#i can’t even be safe from the bullshit on my fucking game

[colbertmmunist]

thinking about how fucking ass backwards society is going is making me want to throw up

#abortion rights getting revoked and having open season on domestic violence victims as long as their abuser is your fave actor #younger people think they’re above misinformation yet they were all buying into fake news from tiktok and YouTube abt That trial #they are no better than boomers with facebook #it really is horrifying how people will just pull something from a rape testimony and make jokes out of it #whenever you actually look at the facts of That case it’s so clear he initiated it and she reacted after YEARS of taking it #his shit is so easily disproveable and yet people just eat his lies up anyway because he was hot and le funny pirate man #i can’t even be safe from the bullshit on my fucking game #im genuinely going insane from how fucked up this is #2022 and you get flayed alive for pointing out that DARVO exists and even your beloved actors are capable of using it #it’s too depressing to put into words #people would really rather believe that a woman would paint on bruises and concoct an elaborate years-long story #than that a man who was twice her age... a man with known substance abuse issues and a history of violence... would beat his wife #whenever he got inebriated #just conveniently excusing his teeheeing with his little friend about the idea of murdering her and raping the corpse #YEARS BEFORE HIS ALLEGATIONS OF ANY ABUSE FROM HER MIND YOU #just conveniently excusing his defense of roman polanski and his close friendship with marilyn manson and allen ginsberg (outspoken pedo) #allen ginsberg was a NAMBLA advocate and openly talked about wanting to normalize raping little boys #and everybody’s favorite pirate man was just buddy buddy with him and hanging out at his house #and you point this out to his stans and they just don’t fucking care #it goes on and on #I could rant about this for eternity #faith in humanity = nonexistent

[honeyhoshi]

hat trick!

the term 'hat-trick' is used to define when a player achieves the feat of scoring three goals in a single game.

summary: the first half of the championships is going to their opponents and everyone is looking to mingyu to lead the team to victory. as their star player, it’s a tall order, especially when his plate is already full with you.

this a part of the man of the match universe

genre: professional football (soccer) au, porn with a little plot

wordcount: 5,616

pairing: mingyu x afab!reader

warnings: HEAVY DDlg kink, HEAVY d/s themes, both parties are safe, sane, and consenting adults, reader is implied to be significantly smaller than mingyu, huge mingyu, big dick gyu (canon), (acknowledged???) exhibitionism, unprotected sex (pls dont do it, its not worth it), multiple sex scenes, spit kink (bec i wrote it), creampie (also bec i wrote it), mentions of masturbation, size kink go bbrrrr, bulge kink, pussy stretching, plenty dirty talk, mingyu uses soooo many nicknames (pretty, baby, princess, etc.)

author's notes: this is written for my dearest friend @madeforgyu who helped me bring forward!mingyu to life and for making his gf such a joy to write. thank you also to her for inspiring me to come back to tumblr after almost a decade.

Mingyu is pissed. He’s absolutely fucking livid.

This game had to have been fucking cooked. There was no way the ref was making all these shitty calls for him not to be paid off or something. The team had been making all the right moves but the second something seems like a foul, a whistle blows and somehow it's always someone from the Diamonds getting the blame.

Mingyu had come to four attempted goals on target and any other time was deemed offside by the refs. If he sees that fucking checkered flag go up one more time before they call for half time he’s going to really give them a reason for a red card.

Any other day he’d probably be able to brush it off after the half time break. But this isn’t any other day or any other match. It was the last match of the season — it was the Korean FA Cup final.

The 23-24 season was grueling but rewarding for the Diamonds. After the major upset at finishing as runners up in the season prior, the whole squad had come into this season with fire under their asses. The change in coaches was another thing — while their ex-manager, Mr. Cho was a hardass, their tearful promise to give him a win even after his retirement paired with Seungcheol’s no-bullshit coach style took them from 100% to 250% in the space of the off season.

Mingyu’s never been a better football player. Which is why he’s unhappy when the half time whistle does blow and they’re down 0-2.

Both teams shuffle into the tunnel to head to their locker rooms where their managers and coaching staff were waiting. Then Mingyu sees a flurry of pink shuffling through the mess of white and red kits.

“Excuse me, excuse mee, coming through please,” comes a light voice, parting the crowd.

There are a couple of chuckles and greetings coming from his teammates and even a high five and a “hey tiny!” from Hoshi before it finds its way in front of him.

It’s his girlfriend. It’s you.

Your presence at the game is no anomaly. You’re pretty much a permanent fixture, sort of like the 12th man of the team. Except you can’t play football for shit and you’re always somehow wearing the worst shoes for going on the pitch.

Everyone on the Diamonds’ side knows you — from the press, to the coaching staff, even some of the nutritionists. You’ve been with Mingyu forever. You hardly phase anyone around you when you bat your eyes at Mingyu and grab one of his hands in both of yours.

Mingyu tries to harden his glare at you, doing his best to send a look of displeasure at whatever it is you’re trying to pull.

“I’m soooorry,” you start, playfully rocking on the balls of your feet and trying to tiptoe to get closer to him.

Mingyu almost wants to roll his eyes.

The last of the team coaches enter the locker room but before the door closes, Seungcheol peeks out and meets Mingyu’s eyes. Hoshi’s head pops out next to him shortly after.

“I don’t have to tell you anything, I’m sure," Seungcheol starts, “But you’ve got 10 minutes, Gyu.”

“Tiny, I need my forward in tip top shape, alright?” comes Hoshi’s laugh.

Now Mingyu really rolls his eyes.

You can’t help the giggle that bubbles out, “Aye aye captain!”

You don’t have to be told twice when Mingyu drags you into an extra locker room and says “Skirt up, pretty.”

He makes quick work of slamming the door shut, not even bothering to lock the door. But he does flick the lights open. He wants to see. He has to see all of you.

When he turns around he clicks his tongue at you seated on one of the benches. You’re still rolling your underwear down your legs. They’re a completely useless pair. Though he admits most of your underwear is useless, either too frilly, flimsy, just there for decoration. It’s okay. He likes pretty things. No wonder he likes you so much.

“Uh-uh, doubletime princess. No time for the usual. I need to come before stepping back on that fucking pitch.”

Mingyu’s agitation from his sub par showing during the first half is bubbling under his skin. He’s been stiffening under his shorts since he saw you shuffling through the tunnel and the minute you grabbed his hands, the only thing in his head was how badly he needed to stuff you with his cock.

He grimaces at the pout on your lips as you finally untangle that stupid lacey thing from your frilly socks and platform sneakers. Mingyu grabs your wrist and drags you up against the wall that isn’t lined with lockers. He presses your front against the wall and uses his knee to spread your legs apart.

On instinct you stick out your ass, eager already despite him still being fully dressed, wiggling slightly to show him you want this too.

With quick, practiced fingers Mingyu undoes the knot of his bottoms and pushes down his compression shorts low enough to pull his cock out. He breathes a sigh of relief because finally he can flip up your skirt and see just how needy you are.

He has one large hand wrapped around his equally large cock and inspecting the view in front of him. His other hand settles on the roundness of your ass, grasping slightly to spread you open. He eyes your pink puckered hole and allows his gaze to move down to your pussy. He’s pumping himself roughly to get himself to full hardness as he eyes the slick that’s seeping between your lips. You’re almost jealous. That’s your job.

Once he’s satisfied with himself, he lets his cock rest between your cheeks, and he grasps you on both sides to squeeze. You want to cry, almost scared he’ll get off like this, just fucking the tightness of your pressed asscheeks. It’s almost quiet save for his panting and the way your slick cunt is starting to wet his cock.

So you whine loudly, that unimpressed, unsatisfied one that precedes a—

“Daddyyyyyyyy!”

Fuck there it is.

Mingyu grimaces and clicks his tongue again. No use being quiet now. Or ever, really. Everyone knows anyway.

He turns you around quickly, hoisting you up in his arms and moving to wrap your legs around his slender waist. This position has your pussy pressing up against the underside of his cock and the slight relief it gives you makes you nearly sob.

Instead you whine. You whine and start to grind sloppily as the feeling of delirium starts to course through you. It comes naturally when it comes to Mingyu. You’re addicted and so is he.

Even if your bare cunt is already pressed against him and all Mingyu has to do is angle your hips slightly to slip in, he goes the extra mile.

He supports your smaller frame with one hand and uses the other to lift a corner of his jersey to his teeth so he can bite it. He pulls it up high enough to expose his stomach and your mouth waters at the sight.

Mingyu looks good. He always looks good and he knows you like it when he’s on display for you as well. The dips and groves of his stomach, how it's still damp from the sweat from the first half, has you clenching around nothing.

He feels it against his cock and he quickly decides to quit playing around. You two probably have around 6 minutes and not a second to lose. So he flips the front of your skirt up and groans at the sight of you.

You’re soaked and coating his cock as you try to grind against him, a futile attempt to somewhat relieve yourself. 

So Mingyu pulls away slightly to position the head of his cock at your entrance.

“D’you play with yourself at all, sweetheart?” He says, tapping the large head of his cock against your clit.

“Huh?” comes your confused response.

“I asked my dumb baby if she played with this little pussy?” He answers meanly.

You flush. It’s like a routine for you to stay with Mingyu the night before a game, allowing him to let off steam and go into a game day glowing and stress free while you sit on his lap in the team bus full of his cum from your morning fuck.

But the night before the cup finals had you attending a work event at the last minute because of a scheduling issue that had both you and Mingyu pissed off and horny.

You suppose that’s partly to blame for the first half that had even you swearing at the refs from your seat in his private box.

“Just a little—“

He clicks his tongue, “How many fingers d’you use?”

“Just two daddy, a-and I stopped!” you cry almost petulantly.

“Yeah, baby? Why’d you stop?”

“Because it was no good!” You bounce in his hold slightly, biting your lower lip as he continues to tease your entrance and clit. Just the head of his cock was enough to get you this wound up.

He grins. It’s brilliant and handsome and just so fucking mean because he says, “Thats right. Two of my dumb baby’s fingers are nothing on daddy’s cock,” and pushes into you.

Mingyu has always been so big and thick and you have always always been so much smaller than him, his cock always stretching a little painfully when he first slips in. But today, with such little time and even spending the night away from each other, the stretch punches the breath from your lungs.

You squeal in equal parts delight and distress and Mingyu sets a brutal pace, not even letting you settle into the feeling of him inside of you.

But you understand. You’re his good girl so you look at him with big teary eyes, bottom lip in between your teeth and nod dumbly at him. Words fail you whenever he’s inside you but it’s okay. It’s better than okay. 

You two have long established how nothing nothing in this world makes you happier than when he uses you as he wants, when slips into you whenever he wants, and calls you his princess while destroying your insides.

His eyes are transfixed on where the two of you meet and you can’t help but follow his gaze. It’s absolutely lewd how you wrap around his cock, airtight, and how the sloppy noise echoes in the room.

“Look at my little pussy,” he starts, “my perfect little hole. My baby’s little cunt was made for me.”

Your cries are growing needier, louder, and more depraved. At the back of your mind you remember to worry about how tonight's the championship match and that the halls are surely bustling with press, staff, and even the opposing team. But Mingyu is fucking you so deep, so fast, that he’s literally fucking the thoughts out of your head.

You fight to stay with him in this room, in this moment, but before your eyes completely shut close, you feel his hand wrap around your throat.

“Daddy’s running out of time, baby,” he says, “so be a good girl and stay still for daddy, huh?”

You whine and nod as his hips move faster and he cages you up against the wall, your arms coming up to wrap around his head. 

“Words, princess. I need words.”

You want to swear at him and thrash in his arms but you’re feeling too good, too lost in the pain and pleasure. You bite at the collar of his jersey because it's the only thing you can do to quiet the pathetic whimpers, babbling, and indecipherable cries Mingyu’s pulling from you. 

Mingyu presses a kiss to your temple quickly, “My dumb baby,” he coos, “look so pretty when you’re crying on my cock. That’s my pretty baby, daddy’s almost there. Keep being good for me, m’kay?”

He speeds up his fucking, hips pistoning, and the press of his cock pressing against that spot in you that makes you see stars.

Mingyu pulls you into a kiss that’s all spit and teeth and bruising lips. He sucks on your tongue before separating the two of you and looking back down at his cock bullying its way into your pussy. 

It happens before your mind can process it but at the speed of light you feel a wet, hot thwack of his spit landing on your clit harshly and you cry out, unable to keep it in.

“Daaaaddy!” It’s loud and keening and you’re sure everyone on the other side of the wall hears.

But it’s all Mingyu needs and one, two, three, brutal thrusts later, he’s spilling deep into you, fucking you through his orgasm.

Your eyes fly open as he rubs at your clit with his thumb while he pulls out and slaps at your puffy clit before he brings your face close and presses back in for a long, deep kiss.

When he pulls away and meets your eyes there’s a mean glint in them and a shit eating grin that is almost frustrating enough to bring you back to tears.

“See baby, if you’d been good, I’d have made you come.”

“B-but! I was good, daddy! I was so good for you!” He settles you back down on wobbly legs and tucks himself back into his uniform.

You’re looking at him in indignation, tears brimming at eyes, threatening to fall. Mingyu’s eyes soften as he brushes the tears away with large thumbs and tucks your hair behind your ears.

It’s a futile attempt to have you looking presentable but your smudged lip gloss and the mess at the back of your head are enough to sell you both out for your halftime activities.

“Being good means not touching what belongs to daddy when he’s not there.”

All you can do is huff. He’s right.

You’re trying to fix how your jersey (a custom pink version of the Diamonds’ home jersey) is tucked into your skirt when you catch Mingyu picking something up from the floor.

It’s your underwear.

“Gimme!” You pout, trying to reach for it. But all Mingyu has to do is raise it above his head and it’s impossible for your to retrieve the flimsy lace

“I think I’ll keep this one for now,” he starts, “Think of it as a lucky charm.”

He unrolls the flimsy fabric and folds it into a small square, tucking it into his compression shorts and tightening up the drawstring of his uniform.

“If you want to be good for daddy tonight, you’ll keep all my cum inside of you, won’t you?” He says sweetly, talking you through the idea he’s suddenly come up with, “then daddy will win this game and fuck you with my medal on.”

After trying to get both of you presentable again, you slip out of the auxiliary locker room hand in hand just two minutes over Seungcheol’s initial 10 minute deadline.

You greet the team as they all line up again to return to the pitch and smile proudly as Mingyu talks to his teammates about feeling more relaxed and ready to play. You don’t miss the way he lets go of your hand just to wrap an arm around your waist, hand resting just on the curve of your ass as you two pass the players of the opposite team.

“Good luck, daddy. Come back to me a champion, please.” You bat your eyelashes at him and press the most innocent of kisses to his cheek.

The sweet moment is interrupted by an exuberant, “OKAY! LET’S GO!” from Hoshi.

You roll your eyes at him playfully but give in when he asks for a fist bump and says, “Tiny, thank you as always for your invaluable contribution to the Diamonds.”

You head off to where Hoshi’s girlfriend is seated, opting to be surrounded by friends and fans alike, but not before hearing the two teammates’ exchange.

“You ready to show them up, rockstar?” Is Hoshi’s jest.

Mingyu can only laugh and say, “Fuck you.”

And show them up he does. Just 6 minutes back on the pitch and Mingyu reminds everyone why he’s one of South Korea’s most prolific strikers. With an assist from Jeonghan Mingyu is lighting fast as he performs one of his signature moves and sends the ball flying to the top left corner of the goal.

You scream your throat hoarse as you watch him run across the pitch towards a camera, pointing and kissing the diamond crest on his chest.

Not long after that Mingyu nets a freekick from just beyond the penalty box, equalizing the game. With so much at stake and still so many minutes on the clock, you can hardly breathe easily, knowing it could still go either way. And it does. 

At the 80th minute the opposition scores their third goal and you could practically feel the Diamonds’ crowd deflating, fearing a repeat of the previous year.

“They can still equalize, I’m sure of it,” you hear Hoshi’s girlfriend from beside you, “As long as Soonyoung doesn’t fuck up and your boyfriend produces another one of his miracles, we can take this to penalties.”

You groan. You hate penalties, but you know how much this match means to Mingyu and the team.

Despite the possibilities, the game has gone into injury time and the crowd around you already look like they’re ready to pack up but sticking around just in case.

The majority of the players are crowded around the opponents’ goal, desperate feet hoping to score or hoping to defend. At this point some of the opposite side’s players are just trying to kill time to secure their win.

Hoshi is yelling orders from along the Diamonds’ midfield, abandoning his goal with the confidence that his teammates will surely take another goal. 

But time just about stops when the Diamonds are awarded a corner. Jeonghan looks like he’s dragging his feet about taking it, walking away to have someone else take the kick. But in a split second he turns back to kick the ball in a beautiful arch that meets none other than Mingyu’s right foot to take a third goal.

Hat trick.

Penalties are an awful cruel thing for any football fan, you think. Even after over ninety minutes a winner still isn’t decided and it falls down to each team’s five penalty takers and their goalkeepers.

Hoshi’s girlfriend is in hysterics next to you, gripping your hand like a lifeline. Mingyu had been the first to take his penalty, the ball floating almost gracefully and finding itself out of the keeper’s reach in a split second.

The score was at 4-3 with the Diamonds in the lead after Seungkwan’s attempt had found the back of the net neatly. If their opponents miss this, the championships would be theirs.

This all falls down to their captain.

Hoshi has always been so dependable and today is no exception. The very second he deflects that fifth and final attempt, cheers erupted in every direction and the final whistle is blown. 

The Diamonds won the Korean FA Cup.

The players, the coaches, and press flood the pitch and white confetti erupts around you. Before you know it your seatmate has vanished. She’s running across the pitch to jump into Hoshi’s arms, kissing away the tears pouring down his face, the team captain overcome with emotion.

Jealousy flares in your chest and you try to look everywhere for Mingyu. You stand indignantly, looking all over for him when you’re reminded of gravity.

The intensity of the match and the anxiety at its uncertainty had taken your mind away from your mid-match tryst with Mingyu and from the fact that he had come so deeply inside of you that it was only now that you were standing and pacing and you could feel the thick, sticky seed moving inside of you, threatening to drip out of your hole. You didn’t even have any underwear to catch it and sop up the mess, the lace neatly folded and tucked into Mingyu’s own underwear. 

You stamp your foot and a whine pathetically when you feel someone come up behind you. You quickly turn to see that, amidst the chaos, Mingyu had found you.

You’d only been away from each other for an hour but in that hour he had become a champion and that fact alone had changed him. He looked like some Greek hero with how he stood with pride painted on his face and how his handsome smirk screamed winner.

God, you needed to suck his cock. 

Luckily for you, Mingyu had the same idea. With the flurry around the win and the podium and carpets still being set up, the captain, manager, and executives still giving interviews, Mingyu knows everyone will be busy and he has time to whisk you away before anyone will even notice he’s gone.

That’s how you end up in the team’s main locker room, still a bit messy from the half time huddle, kneeling in front of Mingyu’s locker and choking on his cock.

“That’s right, baby. Take it slow so you can take more daddy in your mouth,” is his sweet encouragement before he takes the bottle of champagne next to him and takes a long swig.

You’re transfixed, blinking teary eyes to clear them, just so you don’t have to look away from the sight in front of you.

Mingyu had stripped everything off, feeling like he was overheating from the match he’d just played. He sat like a king, leaning back against his locker, spreading his legs and propping one leg up on the bench. He’d popped open a bottle of champagne and pressed the mouth of the bottle to your lips, watching the alcohol overflow from your mouth and drip down your chin to your neck and down your chest.

He kisses you shortly after, tasting the Moët on your tongue and pushing you down onto your knees.

There’s no need to preface anything because in no time you’re gagging on him. It doesn’t take much to have you drooling all over him, his cock so much bigger than what you should actually have in your mouth.

“You can fuck my throat, daddy, please please please!” You gasp out as he pulls you off of him so you can take in a deep breath.

“I know baby,” he says before taking another swig of that champagne, your eyes following the way his Adam's apple bobs. 

He leans down to bring the bottle to your mouth and says, “tongue out, my filthy girl.”

Your spit is thick and sticky in your mouth and you make a show of it when you follow his orders. He wraps a hand around your throat to steady you as he pours champagne into your mouth again, not caring about how much falls down the side of your mouth and dampens your jersey.

He leans back, pleased with the indulgent mess before him, and grabs at the hair at the crown of your head to pull you back down on his cock.

You’re a dream. You had been so good, so obedient at learning to take his cock over the years, and now he’s sure he’s molded himself into your throat the same way he’s made your pussy perfect for only him.

“My perfect girl’s got the most perfect mouth, huh?” He’s holding you down onto him, keeping your head in place, “The filthiest fucking mouth and its all for dad’s cock.”

The noises are disgusting. With your mouth full you can’t say anything but you’re happy just to listen to him come undone. Your spit and his pre-cum gather at the sides of your mouth but you don’t want to stop until he’s pumping his sticky cum onto your tongue.

You pull off of him to lave your tongue over his balls, sucking on one and then the other before saying, “Daddy, I think I deserve to drink your cum, right?”

Mingyu swears under his breath, somehow still not believing how lucky he got with you, your depraved mind the only one that can match his own.

He downs the rest of the champagne and moves to kiss you, sharing the drink. You gulp down what you can before going back down on him, holding down his hips as the muscles beneath your fingers jerk as he fills your mouth. 

Mingyu comes in thick ropes of sticky hot cum that you almost have trouble swallowing, but daddy trained you to be a good girl, thankful for everything she gets. So you swallow every single drop, proudly showing Mingyu your empty mouth.

“Atta girl.”

You try to be on your best behavior and good for Mingyu for the rest of the evening. You’re the picture-perfect girlfriend watching and cheering proudly as he gets his gold medal and the team cheers in unison once Hoshi lifts the trophy above his head. The pictures are taken and the interviews are given but there’s only so much you can take and by the time Mingyu has you buckled up into his car, you’re feeling unnecessarily bratty.

“Baby,” Mingyu starts. You’re some fifteen minutes away from his house and he’s about to get into it now?

“Mm,” is your petulant response.

“Listen to me,” he warns.

But it almost comes as an instinct to you to retaliate, having the most fun when you two go back and forth like this.

“Don’ wanna.”

From the corner of your eye you see his jaw harden.

“Didn’t daddy fill you up, today?” He says as more of a statement.

“He did.”

“Didn’t daddy feed you his come, princess?”

You start to flush, “He did.”

“And then didn’t daddy say he was going to fuck you with his medal on if he won the championships?”

He’s pulling up to his house now and you almost let out a sigh of relief.

“He did,” you answer.

He parks and turns to you, “Then you are going to get out of this car and head up to our room and you are going to strip yourself naked.”

You’ve been waiting for this. Finally, away from any prying eyes and ears, no matter how accepting, you can finally let loose and have him every way you want him.

“Daddy will park the car and unload the stuff and when I come into the room I better see that messy pussy served up for me.”

There’s buzzing in your ears and you bite your lips.

“Of course, daddy.”

It starts with your good intentions, really.

You had asked him kindly to lay back against the pillows and the headboard promising that you were going to be real good, daddy, I promise! And that you were so proud of him, that he was so yummy on the field and of course he was going to be the winner.

You wanted to reward him, said that daddy deserves to be ridden to have your tits in his face, to be spoiled.

To be fair, it was a valiant effort on your end. Once he’d settled into bed, you squealed and threw yourself over him, chest to chest as you rubbed your bare pussy onto his cock.

You were aching to be stuffed but you know how sloppy and wet he likes your pussy to be. And through his cum from earlier today was smeared all over your cunt and thighs, you knew you could do better for him.

You pressed kisses to his chest while running your hands over the dips and divots, the hardness and softness of his chest and abs and sighed dreamily as you met his eyes through thick lashes, “I love you daddy, I’m so happy for you.”

“I love you too, baby. I’m happy I made you happy,” was his simple response.

You bit your lip at the elation that filled your chest and you pressed a quick kiss to the gold medal resting on his chest. You stood on your knees on either side of his hips and kept one hand on his stomach to steady yourself as you lined his cock with your entrance.

The delicious stretch and resistance was still there as you sank down on him, his own spend mixing with your slick, making the slide delicious.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off how your pussy split open to take all of him. The pace is slow and your whimpers of “Daddy, daddy, daddy” made his head spin.

But while slow and romantic was good, it was always just how your love making started. This was all before your thighs had grown tired and your lower back started to hurt.

Mingyu tried to talk you through it, guide your hips on how to grind just right for the head of his cock to press against that spot inside of you. Even his encouragement of you can do it, pretty, daddy’s tired is futile when you finally cry out.

“But daddyyyyy,” comes the high pitched whine, “I’M TIRED TOO. Don’t you feel bad for your baby?”

And he breaks at that.

He sits up and flips the two of you over without even pulling out and your eyes roll as the movements jostle him inside of you.

The anticipation is reaching its boiling point when lifts one leg and places it over his shoulder and pulls out of you to rest his cock on your sopping cunt.

He loves this. It’s fucking sick, but he loves to see how big he is compared to your little hole. He loves to see the head of his cock aligned with your belly button and how you clench around nothing, already missing him inside you.

Before he decides to push his cock back inside you he grasps himself by the base and rubs harshly at your entrance and clit with the engorged head of his cock. It makes you squeal as the rough stimulation shocks your system.

He had left you hanging during half time, with only just enough time for him to fill you up, and you had been too preoccupied blowing him to rub yourself to completion after the match.

But the blessed feeling of an orgasm is finally bubbling back onto the surface now that Mingyu was focusing on your pleasure.

“You’ll give me this, right, baby?” He says pulling you back to him. He wants you to be present, to know how he’s making your body tick, “Be my good girl and wet my cock, daddy wants this pussy to be dripping when he fucks it.”

You whimper in acknowledgment and he speeds up his ministrations, the stimulation getting to him as well as beads of pre-cum mix with your slick and eventually, the spray of your cum squirting out of you messily. 

Your moan is music to his ears and you cry out as he pushes his cock into you, not giving you even a second of respite.

With both hands free, Mingyu positions both of your legs over his shoulders, your stupid frilly socks tickling his ears. This position is a favorite for the both of you. He loves how deep he can fuck you like this, the head of his cock kissing your cervix. And you love how when you put your hand just under your belly button, you can see and feel how his cock moves inside you.

“Fuck, look at you,” he says all too breathless, “So fucking perfect.” The sweat beading on his face falls on your temples and you want to cry — what a waste not to taste him on your tongue.

“My perfect little cocksleeve, that I made just for me, isn’t that right. Fuck.” He’s losing it and God do you want him to fall apart.

He pulls away slightly and laughs to himself a little when he sees how his medal, still around his neck, is resting on your chest, bouncing slightly as he continues to fuck into you. What a sight. And only his.

What a day it’s been for him to have woken up in this very bed alone and just another football player hoping for a dream to come true. And to end up here now, in the same bed with you calling out to him like a litany of prayers and his champion’s medal sitting between your tits, bite marks on the flesh contrasting prettily against the yellow gold.

He bites his lip and focuses on your bodies and how you can barely get the word ‘daddy’ out coherently, mumbling dadd-da-daddy-dad unintelligibly. He does you a kindness and presses a hand down where your smaller one is, and thrusts hashly, loving the way you clench around him as you finally reach a second peak. The vice grip your pussy has on his cock is enough to push him over the edge as well, spilling another load into you and your eyes flutter shut.

Mingyu doesn’t pull out of you but sets your legs down and massages the insides of your thighs because he knows you’ll complain about them tomorrow.

He slips off his medal and sets it on the bedside table next to your phones.

After arranging your bodies to be more comfortable, he presses soft kisses on your ear and into your hair, chuckling slightly as you mumble in your sleep that it tickles. 

Mingyu can’t help but keep that smile even as he settles down. It feels so good to be a winner.

-`✮´- if you've come this far, thank you and it'd mean the world to get a reblog or to hear your thoughts on my first fic on here!

#frizzy fiction #seventeen smut #svt smut #mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #au: man of the match

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ฿Ⱡ₳₦₭ ₴₱₳₵Ɇ ♡

♡ Pairings: frat boy!jaehyun x chubby!fem!reader, frat boy!johnny x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: college au/angst/fluff/smut

♡ Summary: Jaehyun has made it a habit of playing with your heart. One day he loves you, the next he hates you, with nothing in between. Growing tired of his games, you find your attention drifting somewhere else. Toward his roommate and frat brother Johnny to be exact.

[Part Two Here 🖤]

♡ Word Count: 2.1k-ish

♡ Warnings: fuckboy Jaehyun in his full villain era (for now), voyeurism, two couples having sex in the same room (not an orgy), technically unprotected sex by way of protection not being explicitly mentioned, a lil spanking, partying, kissing, mentions of drinking, casual/meaningless sex, sexual fantasies, everyone's a lil morally gray, heartbreak & that's all bbys.

♡ A/N: I had a bloodlust for something angsty and ya know this did a pretty good job at satisfying it. It also satisfied by craving for something sweet so I'll keep my fingers crossed it does both for y'all too. 🖤

It was exciting at first. Weekends at the frat house partying with Jaehyun. No rules. No limitations. Everything a girl could want just waiting to be given to her if she asked. And the sex? The sex was incredible. Jaehyun could be a real asshole sometimes but he always knew how to make you come so hard your ears were ringing. 

You knew from the start that it’d be delusional to think you were anything more to him than a pretty face and a dependable fuck. Jaehyun’s killer bone structure and gorgeous features make him what one might imagine a fairytale prince to be. All the girls on campus dream of being with him and he knows it. He loves it.

That man has an ego bigger than his cock which is unfortunately rather large. There’s so much of himself floating around in his head that there’s just no room for anyone else. Still he has his endearing moments, ones that make a girl feel special, and that’s what keeps you coming back when you begin to think better of tolerating his bullshit.

That’s why you’re here tonight, knees digging into his mattress, cheek pressed to his pillow, as he fucks you from behind. You feel it, the force of his hips snapping against your ass, his cock pulsing deep in your core. But it feels like nothing. It’s like getting a tooth pulled after the dentist has numbed you up real good. The force of the movement is there but the feeling’s gone.

A few feet away another bed creaks as a girl you’ve only met once or twice rides Jaehyun’s frat brother Johnny like one of those mechanical bulls. This isn’t abnormal. During these parties sex happens any time, anywhere, and that almost always includes being in the same room together. But you can’t help feeling like a pervert for stealing a few glances of the adjacent couple.

Jaehyun never formally introduced you to Johnny. Come to think of it, he's never formally introduced you to anyone. It was Johnny who introduced himself one night when you’d had a few too many drinks for your own good and ended up hunched over the toilet with Jaehyun nowhere to be found. 

Johnny sat with you for hours making sure you were hydrated and feeding you snacks until he was sure you were okay. You can’t for the life of you remember what was said. You can only recall that you felt comfortable and safe with him. It was enough to make you develop the tiniest crush that’s only been made worse by how sweet he’s been to you since.

Jaehyun slaps your ass, interrupting your train of thought. Almost simultaneously Johnny begins to caress the other girl’s hips. There’s so much tenderness in the way he touches her and you envy it. You wish Jaehyun could give you even a fraction of that. Just once. Pulling the girl in for a kiss, Johnny wraps his arms around her, holding her close to his chest. With her head nestled in the side of his neck, he cradles her gently as he lifts into her at a slow, rhythmic pace. 

You imagine that’s you, not being hammered into but actually feeling something, and magically the friction of Jaehyun’s cock rubbing your walls feels good. In fact, far better than it ever has before. You let out a moan, a whisper, “Aah, oh god.” Jaehyun takes notice of it, loving the way you clench too much not to hit that sweet spot again and again. He’s so distracted by the delicious jiggling of your body, his vision curtained by messy dark brown hair, that he can’t see that he isn’t the only one captivated by you.

But you notice. Johnny’s staring back at you now, his eyes glued to yours as he takes in all those pretty faces you make. This isn’t the first time he’s watched you either. He and Jaehyun were roommates long before you came into the picture. Johnny’s seen more than a few girls naked in Jaehyun’s bed but you’re the only one he’s cared to sneak a peek at. The crush you have on him is so mutual. How you never picked up on it he doesn’t know but it’s oh so obvious now.

The longing behind Johnny’s eyes is immense, luring you deeper into his gaze until he’s all you see. Setting your bodies on autopilot with your respective partners, you begin to quietly explore each other. Your minds indulge in every dirty thought you’ve had about each other. Thoughts you’d suppressed out of fear that you were doing something wrong. 

You find yourself getting wetter than you’ve been all night, walls dripping twice as much as they hug Jaehyun’s cock. “Damn, you feel so good, baby” Jaehyun praises, planting kisses down the middle of your back. He shifts to a position he knows will have you trembling and you let out the sexiest moan. So sexy it makes Johnny’s cock twitch inside of the other girl, heat washing over both of your bodies. 

“You’re so fucking cute” Johnny whispers in a way that seems to be for the girl in his arms but is meant for you and only you. His face lights up like the 4th of July at every broken moan or arch of your back. You can tell how badly he wishes the pussy warming his cock right now were yours and you get the filthiest rush out of that.

Before you know it the pressure inside you has reached its peak and your legs are shaking, knees threatening to give out from under you. A faint smile creeps across Johnny’s face and he mouths to you, “Come.” And you do, as if on command. Burying your face in the pillow, you bite down on the fluffy cotton and let it fill your cheeks. It’s a gag of sorts, a desperately needed one incase you should cry out the wrong name on accident.

You know in your heart that even by frat boy standards you’ve crossed a line. You’ve stumbled into territory there’s no coming back from. But when it feels this good it’s difficult to want to turn back anyway. 

“You’re overreacting. It’s not like you’re my girlfriend.” 

You know this to be true, Jaehyun isn’t your boyfriend, but it hurts all the same to wake up to him texting another girl. Your heart sank when you rolled over this morning, still in his arms, to find him making plans to meet up with her tonight.

It was so blatant, he didn’t even attempt to hide what he was doing, and maybe that’s what hurts most of all. You thought he cared enough about you to at least pretend he wasn’t playing the absolute fuck out of you. It’s clear now that you thought wrong. 

“You’re such an asshole, you know that?” you shout, gathering your things from the floor, the sheet from his bed still draped around your naked body. 

A fully dressed Jaehyun casually searches the dresser for his keys, the smile on his face so cocky you want to slap it off. “Right, I’m going to the gym. You know how to see yourself out right?” 

Picking up one of your heels, you channel all your strength into throwing it at his head. “I never wanna see you again!” 

Jaehyun opens the bedroom door in time to take cover behind it, the heel of your shoe leaving a dent where it would’ve hit him. “Ooh, feisty” he teases, cracking the door to throw you a wink, “Save some of that for next time, hmm?”

There’s so much you want to say but none of it will change anything. He walks away from you like it’s nothing and that’s precisely what you feel like. Nothing. Unable to hold back anymore, you burst into tears where you stand, gathering up some of the sheet to sob quietly into. You can’t recall the last time you cried like this. A chest tightening, nose dripping, lip quivering type of cry that makes you want to double over in pain. 

“Hey, come here” a voice whispers, the rasp of sleep still hanging over it.

You feel a tug on the back of the sheet and turn to see Johnny sitting up in bed, one hand rubbing his barely open eyes while the other clings to the sheet around you.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up” you apologize, too embarrassed to make eye contact, “I’ll just get my things and—”

“No, come here” he insists, pulling you closer to his bed, “Come lay with me.”

Something in you says to resist it—you shouldn’t be crawling into bed with Jaehyun’s roommate—but Johnny’s already taking you by the hand, guiding you down into the empty spot beside him. No words are spoken as he pulls the soft blanket over the two of you, tucking it at your side to keep you warm.

His head hits the pillow, heavy lids closing, as he pulls you into his chest. There’s tension at first, on your part only. A hesitance to allow yourself to fully relax into the gentle embrace you’ve been desperately pining for. But the longer he holds you, his palm massaging your lower back in soothing figure eights, the more you soften.

“You don’t deserve this, you know?” he finally says when your tears have subsided and your breathing has evened out enough for you to speak. There’s exhaustion in those words as he says them, giving the impression that this is something he’s wanted to ask you for a long time. 

“Is this gonna be a lecture?” you sniffle, nervously patting the tears from the dips between his muscles, “Because I really don’t need a lecture right now.” 

Johnny laughs, letting out a yawn, “Nah, it’s too early for a lecture. My brain’s not heated up yet.” 

“Not heated up yet? What does that even mean?” you giggle, leaning to look up at him, your nose scrunched in confusion. Johnny opens his eyes, staring back at you with those starry brown orbs, and you’re transported back to the way you felt last night. If you thought his gaze made you want to melt from afar, it’s reducing you to volcanic ash at this distance. 

“Well, it’s like, when you first wake up your brain’s cold. Your thoughts are all jumbled so you’ve gotta wait a little, let it heat up” Johnny explains, the tips of his sable hair kissing your face.  

“You’re, uh…” you stutter, searching for the perfect word, “Really…interesting? Yeah, you’re interesting, Johnny Suh.” 

The most genuine smile takes over that handsome face as he lets out a joyful squeak, sincerely flattered by your comment. “Yeah? Well, so are you. You’re really interesting and cool and cute. I did mean that last night. You are cute.”

You tuck your head, trying to hide a smile of your own, but Johnny caresses your cheek, bringing you right back where he wants you. “Why do you let him treat you like that?” he asks without the slightest bit of judgment. Your smile fades as you contemplate a question you aren’t even sure you know the answer to. You file through 1001 possibilities before coming to the raw, painful truth. 

“I was trying to prove something, I guess” you confess, feeling an odd sense of relief at admitting this to him and yourself. “I thought if I could obtain the unattainable it’d be proof that I was special.”

Johnny scoffs, rolling his eyes, “Jaehyun? Unattainable? I could fuck him if I complemented him enough.” 

“Thanks, that makes me feel so much better” you huff, beginning to regret that moment of vulnerability. 

“No, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean that he isn’t one of those people that can appreciate when they have something special.” 

You shrug in defeat, letting your fears tumble freely from your lips, “Yeah, I don’t know if any guy can at this point.”

“So you think we’re all the same?” he asks, tilting your head to let your lips brush his. His lips are like static, making the little hairs on your arm stand on end. Your heart’s running a marathon and the butterflies in your stomach are throwing fits. This can’t be happening. Only it is.

You swallow hard, inhaling the scent of the fresh morning air meddled with his cologne. “Well, I…I mean no one’s really shown me any different.” 

Johnny presses his lips to yours, lingering there for a moment to savor the warmth of your kiss. “Can you give it some time?” he whispers, fingers charting a course across the curve of your hip to take your hand into his. 

“It or you, Johnny?” you ask, silently begging him not to say a thing if it’s not something he means.

“Hmm,” he hums, bringing your hand up to gently kiss your inner wrist, your palm, your fingertips, “Me.” 

#nct x you #nct x reader #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun smut #jaehyun angst #johnny suh x reader #johnny suh smut #johnny suh angst #johnny suh fluff #nct angst #nct smut #jaehyun x you #nct 127 x you #nct 127 x reader #chubby reader #plus size reader

[hannie-dul-set]

PATIENCE, PATIENCE.

p — SIM JAEYUN x gn! reader. g — humor, fluff. w — swearing, making out, secondhand embarrassment aka the hannie-dul-set fic triumvirate + a good amount of public indecency. 1.5k words.

requested by — anon: cocky jock (who loses that cockiness around you) x reserved student librarian (who loses that cool because of him).

note — loosely inspired by a moment from the manhwa "unstoppable hayoung" ifykyk. in a prev fic i alluded beomgyu to a mosquito, in this one jake to a pest. i think i'm seeing a pattern here.

a pest has been following you for quite some time now.

“sim jaeyun.”

his name falls icy off your tongue, prefacing it with a sharp inhale yet the man in question is unfazed. he’s trespassing the barrier that’s preventing you from socking him in the face: the front desk of the library where he’s decided to prop his arms over, leaning into the surface, smiling oh-so-handsomely at you as if you aren’t politely telling him to fuck off with your eyes alone.

then again. you don’t really expect him to understand social cues.

“for the dozenth time, please leave me alone.”

so you verbalize your intent instead.

“i can’t do that, baby,” he replies. “not until you agree to go out with me.”

you suck in a deep huff of air, close your eyes, and dig your fingers into your thighs to ward away the distress.

“just one date. please?” he prods, nudging himself closer over the desk as if the scrawls of paper you’re trying to organize aren’t as important as his incessant badgering. “are you really going to keep saying no to this face?” the face in mention looks particularly punch-able right now. you’ve always taken pride in yourself for being a very patient, patient individual. jake sim from philosophy 102 is testing that patience.

“the library is for reading,” you say through gritted teeth. patience, patience, patience. you’re a daffodil on a breezy field, a piece of driftwood on a steady river. you will not fight a man in your workplace. you will keep your job and maintain inner peace.

“i am reading,” he argues. “i’m trying to read your mind because i don’t get why you don’t want to go out with me.”

holy crap. he’s insufferable.

“i’ve already told you dozens of times, jake.” now, you don’t know a thing or two about the ball sport he does, but that pink varsity jacket is starting to look abhorrent. it’s being shoved into your face the more he tries to throw himself over your desk. a bright jarring color, unsafe for the eyes. “i don’t want to go out with you. also, i’d appreciate if you stop ruining my work.”

one of the documents got wrinkled under his elbow. his mouth opens, “oh, sorry!” and he quickly backs off, ironing the sheet with his palms. “but at least tell me why you don’t want to go out with me. you keep rejecting me with a blank face but i don’t know why.”

your upper lip twitches. 

because this is all because of a dare, that’s fucking why.

no, even that aside, the way he keeps arrogantly trying to hit on you, expecting you to just accept it and go is grinding your gears. you’re calm. you’re usually calm. but something about this guy just pushes all your buttons in one go, makes you spew out bullshit you’d never dare yourself to say to anyone else.

“hey,” your rouse. “can you kiss me right now?”

two can play at that game, bitch.

it works. it works really well because jake is suddenly as pink as his jacket. well, you don’t blame him. the library isn’t safe from gross, hormonal activities, but those are usually done in between the shelves— not at the front desk near the entrance. 

you’re mimicking his stance, leaned forward, arms crossed over the desk and all. “like— like a peck on the cheek?” he stutters.

“no. like tongue in mouth kissing me like a starved man and it’s your last meal on death row,” you clarify. it’s funny how you can see his brain circuits crashing in real time. serves him right. you let out a breath and stand up, seeing the clock tick closer to your break. you quickly gather your things and circle out from behind the desk, now in cross-armed disappointment next to your persistent pest. “this is why i don’t want to go out with you, jake. you don’t even have feelings for me. you’re doing this because your friends told you to, and i don’t—”

suddenly, you feel something soft on your lips.

suddenly, your knees are weak, your mind is fuzzy, and you’re exchanging spit with jake sim in the library lobby.

wait, you gasp into his mouth and he responds with a grunt. wait, your eyelids flutter, air knocked out of your chest that’s somehow now pressed against his because wait— this wasn’t supposed to go this way. 

how dare he actually do what you told him to? how dare he give you the best damn kiss you’ll ever have in your life? 

“what the fuck?” you breathe out in intermittent huffs, hands on his chest as you pull yourself back. jake’s hazy eyes are looking at you in a way that makes your brain jump in circles, coupled by the arm that he has looped around your lower back. he’s crazy. he’s fucking crazy. “why— why would you do that?!”

“you told me to kiss you!”

“and you did?!”

your eyes widen at the volume of your own voice, quickly slapping a hand over your swollen lips, but making noise is at the bottom of your library sins today. you see your supervisor’s attention on you from the corner of your eye, and your face flushes. “why would you go this far for a dare?” you say in a quieter voice, still manic, still frantic, and jake flinches hard when you jab a finger to his chest. “you’re nuts, you’re actually nuts, oh my god—”

“wait, what do you mean dare?” your finger seems to be hurting him because he grabs your wrist and brings your hand down. “a dare? a dare to do what?”

you seethe. “don’t play dumb with me, jake. overheard you and your little soccer friends last time—”

“it’s football—”

“i don’t care.” your voice is getting louder again. jake flinches once more. “the problem here is you keep asking me out to date you because your soccer friends are betting on who can bed the quiet library assistant first and— and i’m not going to play dumb just because you’re a good kisser. i’m angry and disgusted and—”

“do you mind continuing your argument outside?”

your mouth is hanging open, paused mid-speech. when you peer to your left, you see that your supervisor has teleported right next to you. oh, god. there goes your job. jake apologizes for the both of you and skews your frozen figure out the door. you’re screwed. your patience could handle six months at starbucks and three months babysitting three toddlers, but i cannot handle one sim jaeyun.

“so,” the perpetrator’s voice snaps you back to reality. you’re both now outside the library, and he’s looking at you with a smugness that begs a kick to the balls. “you think i kiss good.”

your face bitters. “is that your only takeaway from all that?”

“no,” he shakes his head. “i also got that you’re rightfully mad at me for something i have to clear up.”

here we go. you’re curious to see what excuses he’ll make, how many sorry’s he’ll impart, and if he’ll get down on his knees. jake. but his starting words aren’t what you’re hoping for. “there isn’t a bet,” he starts. “my teammates were just trying to tease me because i didn’t have the balls to ask you out. dumb, i know, but they were dumber because they were all like, ‘if you don’t make a move soon, we will, blah, blah, blah’ to provoke me so—”

jake is matching his varsity jacket again.

“long story short, i made them run fifteen laps and decided to get it over with by asking you out on a date.”

you’re brought back to the first instance jake had asked you out— it was in the lecture hall, right after class, and he was wearing the same pink jacket that at this point seems like his second skin. the color isn’t as jarring as you initially thought.

“but rejection didn’t feel nice. so i thought i’d try again.”

you narrow your eyes. “again, as in like, eight times?”

“you counted?” he muses. you are unamused. he clears his throat and continues. “you’re always so calm and collected, but your eyebrows would furrow and your face would scrunch up whenever i threw you the question. it’s cute. i got addicted. you can’t pin all the blame on me.”

you let his words simmer, and with each passing second of silence jake grows more nervous, fidgeting in wait. you decide to spare him the agony, letting out a deep and heavy sigh. “okay. you’re forgiven.”

it’s instantaneous how his face lights up. now, you’re the one flinching.

“nice! does that mean we’re dating now? can i kiss you again?”

“now hold on,” you stop him, mildly appalled, mostly flustered. “i said i forgive you. i never said we can start making out in a public area again.”

he bats his eyes at you. “in private then?” 

you want to hit him. you want to hit him so bad. sim jaeyun is the pest that has been following you for quite some time now. you fear that at this point, there’s no getting rid of him now.

PATIENCE, PATIENCE. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

#enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enhypen jake x reader #sim jaeyun x reader #jake sim x reader #enhypen scenarios #enha scenarios #sim jaeyun scenarios #jake sim scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen x you #sim jaeyun x you #jake sim x you

[gretavanlace]

Crime and Punishment

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, dirty talk, denial, dom/sub, anger, pet names, illusions to impact play, impact play (mild), masturbation, etc

Just a little something to tide my lovelies over. Thank you so much to my anon who asked for a quieter dom jake (I can’t find your ask, but I love you)❤️

“Jake?” You venture carefully from your seat beside him as he stares ahead, navigating the twists and turns of hills and back roads, wipers keeping time through the rain. “You seem upset. Are you alright?”

You know he isn’t alright. You fucking know. Worked toward it all evening, bratting this way and that. Mouthing off. Causing trouble. Flirting with Danny. Let’s be honest, flirting with Sammy, as well…innocently. Flirting with Josh, not so innocently.

You drank a little too much, danced a little too close, spoke a little too softly in an ear or two - and all while he quietly watched. All while he silently drank in your display, swallowing it down for safe, darkened, keeping.

“M’fine, magpie.” He offers with a gentle shrug “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Okay, so maybe he isn’t as angry as you’d feared, hoped? He’s still allowing your nickname, bestowed because he says you sing so pretty when you cum for him, to trip off of his delectable tongue. Perhaps his upset doesn’t run quite as deeply as you believed.

“You’re not angry with me?”

“Why would I be angry with you?” His jaw tightens, betraying him. Liar.

“Dunno.” You shrug right back, if he’s going to play it this way, so will you. Beginning to dig around in your purse, at last, you locate your lighter and cigarettes, flickering one to life with a deep, drunken drag.

Immediately, he rips it from your lips and flips it out the crack in his window, with a clipped, “You haven’t earned it.”

He knows you enjoy the most occasional smoke when you’re floating through a buzz, and this proves what you already knew - his placid demeanor is bullshit.

You clip your bag closed with a sly smile and sidle up a little closer, “Oh, so Jakey is feeling angry? Are you mad at your girl?”

With a firm hand, he pushes you back in your seat, and shakes his head, “Stop talking. Now. Don’t make me say it twice.”

Something in his tone tells you to listen…his warning sounds like it's riding out on broken glass, and his palm, flattened out on your chest, heavy like a paperweight, tells you to find your place, and find it fast.

The galvanic hiss of his energy pops and sparks into the night as you cruise closer to home, but that isn’t what knots your stomach into bends and hitches - his silence is what does that.

Normally, he’d be taunting you. Promising fire and brimstone, forewarning forthcoming doom, sounding the alarms in your head…if only to make your heart and your clit pound.

He prizes it - this ability of his to so easily make you sweat and ache…loves it all the more when it’s an impending punishment he can lord over your pretty head. That’s what you’d been aiming at all night - his wrath…but this, this quiet? Unsettling.

“Jacob Thomas…” you’ve tried on your sweetest tone, allowing a pout to color his full name in the way that never fails to make his cock twitch. Like a game of hide and seek. Come out, come out wherever you are.

“Shut. Up.” His knuckles turn white on the steering wheel and you do, in fact, choose to listen and shut up.

Gravel crunching beneath the tires signals your homecoming, jarring you out of your foggy reverie. What will happen now? You’d be dishonest if you said you weren’t positively fucking alive with racing thoughts of carnal possibilities. You’d also be dishonest if you said you weren’t a tad apprehensive…something in his manner is off. Have you pushed too far this time? Are you really in for it? Do you like the idea of roaring along his furious rapids without a paddle? Paddle. Now there’s an idea.

A caul of tense silence crawls over the car as he breathes heavily and deeply beside you. Finally, his clipped instructions break the spell.

“You are to go inside and wait at the foot of the bed. Naked. On your knees. Hair braided and clipped.”

You shiver at his ragged directive, he sounds like sex, and you can smell the lust seeping from his pores— masked almost entirely by his fury, but there all the same.

Turning to him to beg for just one touch is so tempting you can almost taste the words on your palate, but wisely, you settle on obedience, and squeak open the door before hustling it into the house.

If you had eyes in the back of your head you might have caught the faint smile that curls his pillowy lips as he watches you fumble to fit the key in the lock with shaking hands. You’re nervous, he decides. Good.

He finds you, kneeling and bare - fucking gorgeous. Your hair is woven and swept up, just as instructed. It earns you points, but certainly not enough to matter, and you seem to sense that as you watch him calmly prowl about the bedroom.

His jacket comes off first, shaken from his shoulders in the stillness, only to be rested carefully over the back of his chair. He loves this chair, sits in its overstuffed embrace and plucks at his guitar for hours. But tonight, he has other tasks to complete.

He rids himself of his barely buttoned shirt and lets it fall to the floor, forgotten…and then swaggers over to the dresser, carefully removing his necklaces and nestling them into the velvet case that houses his trinkets.

Boots, having seen better days just the way he likes them, are next. Kicked off and cast aside next to the closet door.

And all the while it’s quiet, quiet, quiet. Normally, he’d be scolding you, issuing soft admonishments that still somehow thunder in your heart as though he’s shouted them. Normally he’s bossy, and mouthy, and sexy as hell about it. Tonight? Silence.

Still, you wait - knelt, submissive, unresisting and docile. Patiently and quietly subservient as your nipples harden into aching peaks, desperate for even a flick of his gaze.

Without blessing you the glance you’re so longing for, he disappears into the closet, only to return with his black leather guitar case. You know this case, you know what it houses, and it isn’t a musical instrument. Though, he does coax lovely sounds out of you with the arsenal hidden inside.

At last, his voice comes, hushed and conversational, as he carefully places the case on the bed and flips the latches. “I shouldn’t, because you’ve been a dreadful handful tonight, but I’m feeling generous, so I will. You may pick your poison this evening, magpie.”

With precision, he chooses his arrows and lines them up along the duvet. Paddle, flogger, crop, switch, length of leather he braided and knotted with his own hands, and cane. You fear the cane most of all…the way it slices through the air audibly; a woeful song just before the pain explodes and sizzles through your system. Still, your eyes linger there once he’s given you permission to turn and look. Maybe you want that tonight.

Though he doesn’t tip his hand, Jake knows exactly what you need. He can sense all of that shameful desire swimming through your veins. He understands that you live in your head a little too deeply now and then. His grasp on your psyche, uncanny. You need this sometimes, this complete submission…his hands offering sacrament with each blow. His words washing you clean in their dominance, their degradation, their praise. He needs it too, to give you these things that might make another shudder and turn away.

He craves the way you blink up at him, eyes blurred with tears, lips swollen and dripping in sobs and breaths of reverence. The way your body yields to his touch, trembling with pleasure tinged in delicious, trustful fear. He is weak for the way you allow him to worship you this way…an outsider might see the opposite, might believe it is you who worships from your place at his feet, they would be terribly mistaken. It is he who prays.

Perhaps it has been a little too long, so you chose to act up in order to force his hand. Perhaps that is his fault. Perhaps. But you will never know it.

“Your behavior was uncalled for tonight.” He sighs, fingers skating across his toys while you contemplate. “For it, I should cane you until you can’t breathe. But, I’m feeling kind. What do we say?”

His fingers have begun to stroke through your bangs. “We say thank you.” You hush with a shiver, “Thank you for your mercy, sir.”

He nods, and then squares his shoulders, impatience edging at him. “Choose, or I will. You don’t want that.”

When your touch lands on the cane, he hides his shock well and bends until his delicious mouth rests against your ear. “Magpie wants my cane? Aren’t you just the prettiest glutton for punishment that I’ve ever seen?”

“Make it hurt.” You’re shaking with depraved anticipation, and he wants to huff a laugh - his lovely little masochist - instead, he tucks the cane away, confusing you.

“Well, darling,” he dips down and places the softest feather of a kiss upon the nape of your neck. “If you want it, that’s not much of a punishment at all, now is it?”

He has decided that, in honor of your wanton little show with his brothers, he will wield his authority in a different manner tonight. You will suffer, but not in the way you might have hoped.

Straightening, he takes your chin loosely in his grasp and tilts your face upwards until he is looking down the bridge of his nose at you. “On the bed, magpie. Right on the edge, legs spread wide open for me. I’d like to look at your pretty cunt.”

Without waiting to watch you comply, he turns and makes his way back to the chair he loves so well, and takes a seat casually. By the time he has settled in, you’re perched on display for him.

“So gorgeous, little bird.” He hums softly, popping the button of his pants. The parting of his zipper causes your entire body to jolt in hunger. “Look at that pretty fucking pussy. You’re so wet I can almost smell you.”

His hand dips behind linen and tugs his cock free. So hard and beautiful. Swollen tip leaking pearlescent drops of arousal that you long to lick away.

“Jake,” you whine, body rocking against nothing so subtly, you don’t even realize it’s happening.

“I told you to shut up.” He snaps, wrapping his fist around himself with a slow, easy tug.

“Yes, sir.” You breathe. A little groveling never hurt anyone.

“You will take what you’re given tonight, and you will thank me for it.” He’s stroking himself with intent now, and you couldn’t look away if you tried. You just want him so fucking badly. “And I so love to spoil you, don’t I?”

“Yes, sir.” You repeat, hushed, and fighting to keep your hand from dipping between your legs.

“And now you’ve ruined that for me, which wasn’t very nice.” He clicks his tongue. “My mean, filthy, little magpie owes me an apology, does she not?”

“I’m sorry.” You sound pathetic, and that’s fine for the both of you. “I just wanted—“

“I know what you wanted.” He interrupts, words rasped as he jerks his cock off just a bit faster. “I didn’t ask for your fucking explanations. Let me see that lovely little clit, I miss her.”

Reaching down, you spread yourself open without thought or hesitation. What Jake wants, Jake gets. Funnily enough, however, he feels the same about you…usually.

“There she is…” you watch his fist tighten around his length…god, you want it so badly it’s nearly difficult to think. Your thoughts, scattered and blurred with want. “Look how pretty and pink. And swollen, too.” He tilts his head sorrowfully. “Such a shame. I could so easily take care of her…if you hadn’t acted like such a whore tonight. And for what?”

“You know why.” You huff, growing slightly insufferable with desire.

“Watch that fucking tone or I’ll spread you out, tie you down, and correct you until the sun comes up.” His warning drives out harshly from between clenched teeth.

He watches the insubordination silently leech from your bones. “That’s a good girl. Can you feel it, baby? My tongue on your clit? Warm and wet, licking and sucking you until your cum is dripping down my chin? Hmm? Can you feel that?”

And fuck if you can’t. You’re conjuring the feeling of his mouth working away at you sinfully, the sounds he makes, groans and hums of bliss that muffle into your soaked flesh. They crowd your mind until it is fat full with Jacob and only Jacob.

“I’d love to taste you, magpie.” He sighs, fucking his fist faster still. “I’d love to crawl over there and bury my face between your thighs. Love to slip my tongue way up inside until my nose is buried against you. Until I can’t fucking breathe.”

“Please.” Is the only word you can manage, and even that comes out weak and warbling.

“Tough love, little bird.” He taunts. Tough love. And it’s only because I care…I don’t want to see you go completely off the rails, I’ve gotta keep you in line, don’t I?”

Your body twitches and writhes and shakes all on its own…you’ve lost control of your muscles. Your veins are searing with fiery need, nerve endings buzzing and sparking like downed power lines. Mouth open and panting like a cornered animal in need of something it can’t quite identify. You want to claw at your body until you can climb out of yourself; until you can discard your own skin like an itchy sweater in a room that’s just a little too warm.

But even if all that were possible, none of it would help, you know as fact, only Jake can soothe you now. Only Jake.

Suddenly, he rises, kicking his pants off along the way as he moves closer to you, closing in on your trembling frame like a gleeful predator.

His body, bare and stunning, glows ghostly in the shadowy moonlight that streams through the curtains. You can smell him now, spiced and soaked in something earthly…like perfumed soil, rich and damp, sifting through your fingers.

“You stay where you are.” His voice purrs out, like silk curling against your cheek.

He reaches behind you and takes up the small switch. Black and spindly, it could almost pass for a wand, fittingly - for his is nothing short of magic.

“I’d like to look at your cunt right up close while I’m cumming.” he whispers, dropping to his knees. “Hello little beauty,” his breath falls against you, though his words aren’t spoken for your ears. “How’s my sweetness?”

His eyes cast up to yours, “Such a beautiful pussy, magpie. Especially right now. Wet and swollen, pink and velvet soft…what I wouldn’t give to fill her all the way up. Pity.”

His arm begins a rhythmic pump against your calf as he lavishes his devouring gaze between your legs, hushing words of praise meant only for your cunt. Murmurs of, pretty soaked pussy, tight little baby, needs spoiled so badly, curses, groans of pleasure and denial that fall hot between your legs.

When your hands give in and reach to bury in his hair, your thigh is met with a harsh crack of the switch, wordlessly putting you in your place. No touching, that sting barks, and you heed the warning.

His frantic gasps and groans grow louder until, as if he can’t help himself, the flat of his tongue laps slowly and heavily from your slick entrance to your clit…the growl that follows is feral and ravenous for more, but he is nothing if not self-disciplined.

“Needed the taste of you on my tongue,” he’s panting now, jerking his cock hard and fast, and then his mouth is resting upon you, lips and cheek pressed right up against your dripping center as you thrust lightly into him, feverish for even a breath of friction.

He cums hard, shoving in closer and digging into your thigh with his hand that still clutches the switch. Crying out as he grabs and pulls at you, nuzzling into your cunt as he spills all over the floor between his knees and your feet, a chorus of his own gasps and obscenities the soundtrack to his release.

Once he’s regained some semblance of composure, he’s on you. Darting up from his place before you to grab you by the throat, decadent cum still dripping from his knuckles and onto your collarbone. He smears it into your flesh like heavenly oil, anointing you.

“You will wear me tonight and remember who you belong to, and you will fucking thank me for it.” He rasps, crawling over you, guiding you along beneath him until your head meets the pillow.

“Yes.” You nod, wide-eyed and grateful. “Yes. Thank you, sir. I’ll wear you forever. Cover me in you every minute of every day. Please, I want it, always.”

Down his hand slips, weaving a winding, serpentine trail of his release to mark his path, then he finds his spot beside you…pulling you in against him until his softening cock is nestled into the curve of your spine.

He will take care of you in the morning, you know without question…but tonight, this is your punishment, and you are more than willing to take it.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @jakesgrapejuice @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @gretasmokerising

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet smut #greta van smut #greta van fleet fic #greta van fic #fanfic #gvf fic #jake gvf #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka #jake kiszka fanfic #gvf jake #jake kiszka smut #josh kiszka #josh kiszka fanfiction #josh kiszka smut #josh gvf #josh kiskza fanfic

[tgirl-armand]

can i just say something? you met this boy in a bar ten hours ago and you have just spent all night revealing our true nature to him. no, i was going to clean it up. it was just a little… god! part of a little game. will you explain to me, uh, the game? because i don’t see the fucking game. oh my god, armand. i lost time. i talked shit the whole interview. but he opened you up, and you talked about him, like, “lestat, lestat, lestat, lestat, lestat, lestat.” fuck’s sake, i’m not doing this now. you know… all of this has really hurt me. i had to say something. you will be okay, because you are a tough fucking bitch who will do whatever you need. are you even listening? i will be okay? yeah? really? yeah. you sure you’re not projecting because that is actually you? should we have a real conversation? with someone broken? no. that was a caring thing. oh yeah, sure. real caring. ha, ha, ha. yeah, no. uh, he broke me. you’re my nursemaid. you’re blank. actually, no, you’re fucking apocalyptic. “i would let him lick my boots or chop my hands off, aren’t i so caring?” i wonder if we shouldn’t clear the air. yeah? mm. sure. yeah. i think that you can be a very selfish person and i think you find it very hard to think about me — what the fuck? — and i think we shouldn’t have even tried to be companions, actually. what the fuck? what the actual fuck? you were the one that wanted to call it a companionship! you came to me at my lowest fucking ebb. i wanted an escape from lestat. what was i supposed to say? perhaps no? i didn’t want to hurt your feelings. oh, thanks! thanks for that! yeah, you really kept me safe while you drained and consummated one-hundred and twenty different boys. oh, fuck off. you’re boring. and then, and then — boring beige pillow — you told the boy it was five, because you were so scared of how fucking awful you are. you were only with me to escape the coven! well, you’ve made it now, armand, you’ve made it! i’m with you because i love you! bullshit. you’re fucking me because i’m your maitre. you’re fucking me for a fucking power dynamic because your daddy vamp groomed you to be a little bitch. that’s not… that’s not a fair characterization. oh, no? well you were fine using it against me in paris, because you’re cracked. you wanna actually clear the air? fine. you betrayed me. you were going to get the coven discovered, louis! you let me break the rules, armand! you let me because you were desperate, you just, you’re desperate! you are incapable of thinking about anybody other than yourself because your sense of who you are, louis, is that fucking thin! you read that in a book, armand? you’re too fucking transparent to find in a book! you’re pathetic. you’re pathetic. you’re a masochist and you can’t even take it. i think you are incapable of love, and i think you were maybe not a good person to have a daughter. well… that’s not very nice to say, is it? i’m sorry. i’m sorry. but you, you, you have hurt me more than you can possibly imagine. and you? you took away the last six months i could have had with claudia. no. yes. no. yes! you knew what they were planning, and you seduced me so i’d let it happen. it’s not my fault… that you couldn’t keep lestat and claudia alive. i have given you my entire life, but it’ll never be enough for you because you’re broken. i don’t like you. i don’t… i don’t even care about you. i don’t care. have we cleared the air, huh? feel good now? yeah. yeah. fucking great. tip-top. you don’t deserve me, and you never did. and everything came out of that. oof, so fucking flat.

#rexcitations #loumand #louis de pointe du lac #armand iwtv #armand le russe #tomshiv #iwtv #if you know. you know #this is what i was thinking the entire time i needed to have it in writing i NEEDED it #i could do it better but i just need to have it down

[depressopax]

Relax - Saul Goodman x gn!reader

Also avaliable to read on AO3 Pairing: Saul Goodman x gender neutral reader Genre: Fluff, hate-love relationship, hurt/comfort, “almost smut” Warning(s): Description of exhaustion and stress. Cuss words, gender neutral reader with they/them pronouns. Age gap, reader is somewhere in their mid 20’s. Nothing too explicit but kissing. Smutty ending. Words: 1.1K Summary: You work for Walter, and he sends you to Saul to hand him over some files. Exhausted after some long days with lack of sleep, you find comfort in talking to the annoying lawyer English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3

“Ah, sweetie, what an honor to see you at my office.”Saul chants, not looking up at you whilst doing paperworks by his desk. You just glare at him, not in the mood for his bullshit today. 

“Saul.”

You reply dryly, him just nodding in reply without even looking at you when approaching the desk holding the files Walter asked you to deliver to the cocky lawyer. You take a seat in the chair across from him, waiting for him to look up. But today, he seems to be in the mood to annoy you. 

“Could you just-”

He holds up a hand to stop you. Offended by his move, you stop talking. After a couple of minutes you’re done with his attitude. You stand up loudly, the chair almost falling in the process. Finally, he looks up. Without thinking twice, you slam the files down his desk, causing the table to shake. He cusses and manages to grab hold of his coffee cup before it falls to the blue carpet floor. 

“What’s your problem, kid?”“My problem? What’s your problem?”The two of you continue nagging each other, and when he raises his voice, so do you. You sink down the chair again after a while, still trembling in anger. 

“Will you PLEASE look at the files?”

Something about the frustration in your voice makes Saul’s face soften. He sighs and grabs the file, bringing out the pile of papers. 

Describing the relationship between you and Saul… Chaotic. You can’t tell if you find him funny or annoying, and the feeling is mutual. 

“What the fuck is this?”

He growls. 

“Don’t ask me! Walter told me to not look at the files, so of course, I did.”

This earns a laugh from Saul.

“Such a rebel… I like that. And don’t worry, that secret is safe with your good pal Saul.”

“...Jeez, never refer to yourself like that again.”

He chuckles and starts reading the papers, and you know it could take him a while. 

He mutters something from time to time, and sighs loudly, clearly annoyed by Walter.

“Should I come back later or wait here?”

He looks you up and down, making you slightly uncomfortable.

“You look tired.”“I am.”

“Well then… Stay. Treat yourself with coffee, play some games on your phone or whatever youngsters do today. Just… Relax.”

“Aight, thank you oldie.”

You taunt him. He replies with something rude, but you don’t really listen. 

You sink into the couch in his office, only now realizing how exhausted you really are. Working in the lab, along with Jesse and Walter - whom you don't get along with - is draining. Gus watching over the three of you doesn’t ease the anxiety.

Saul continues reading and moaning in frustration over the work Walter has left him with. Apart from the lawyers complaining, it’s really quiet in the office. It’s afternoon, and outside, dusk falls. Saul’s office is dark, especially the corner you’re sitting in. You fight to keep your eyes open, but somehow fall asleep…

As you blink your eyes open, confusion washes over you. 

“Mornin’ sweetie”

Seeing Saul sitting next to you on the couch almost makes you jump up. He chuckles at your reaction.

“Calm down, it’s just me.”

“How do you get any work done when you have a couch in the office?”You ask whilst rubbing sleep from your eyes. Truth is, this is one of the best (and only) naps you’ve taken in a while. Saul laughs. “Don’t roast my couch, kiddo.”

“Nah, I would never… How long have I been asleep?”

“10 hours.”

“10 HOURS?!”

You repeat his words and sit up, kicking off the blanket you have no memory of falling asleep with. When you open your phone, you notice it’s 6:20pm, meaning you’ve slept for about two hours.

“Not funny, Saul!” 

You hiss whilst he laughs, clearly entertained by how mad you are. Without realizing it, your eyes burn from holding back tears. Saul’s laughter fades, and an awkward silence fills the room.

“Hey… What’s up, y/n?” His voice is soft and he moves closer to you.

“This is fucking pathetic! I don’t know why I’m crying…”

“When did you last sleep?”

You barely dare to admit that you’ve only slept a couple hours during the last week. Your face says it all.

“Is it Walter?”

“Mhm. I haven’t had a day off in a while. Always something to do at that damn lab.”

“You deserve a rest.”

“I can’t remember when I last got a rest. Apart from passing out on your couch.”

He smiles at you and you realize just how close you are to him. Dangerously close. There’s some sort of tension in the air between the two of you… Before you get the chance to consider it, to think things through or fight the lust, you kiss him. He’s on board directly, pulling you closer to him, almost groaning into your mouth. 

It feels so right, yet so wrong. The kiss gets heated, and suddenly you’re lying down on the couch again, holding onto Saul by his tie as he sinks on top of you. You moan softly as he pulls away and starts kissing your neck whilst his hands move to your waist, pulling your t-shirt. Saul’s lips continue brushing against your skin and the way your body reacts to his touch excites him. Still, you can’t help but look at the clock on the wall, painfully aware that you’ve been away from the lab for way too long now. The last thing you want right now is to get into an argument with Walter, or have Gus react to your absence. But still, being with Saul, having him taking care of you, feels so right… “Hey…”

He notices your absence, and grabs your chin, carefully tilting your head so you look into his blue eyes. 

“Hmmm?”

“Do you want this?”

You take a deep breath. You do want this. But…

“I’ll talk to Walt, ok? Tell him that those fucking files of his took longer then expected, we’ll come up with an excuse for you being away for so long. A white lie.”

You should resist, but something about his touch makes you melt. For the first time in weeks, you feel at ease, thanks to Saul, the same annoying man you thought you disliked. Instead of resisting, you nod. When he smiles at you, you smile back, allowing him to continue.

Fuck it, you need him to continue. 

He continues touching and kissing you, making the anxiety you feel fade away. As he talks to you, he does so in a soft, seductive voice. Leaning close to your ear, he whispers:

“That’s it. Let all that worry go. Let me help you relax. Just… Relax.”

And then his lips move down.

#writeblr #saul goodman #x reader #fanfic writing #breaking bad fanfic #breaking bad #breaking bad smut #better call saul #brba #brbabcs #fanfic authors #fluff #smut #one shot #drabble #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #ao3 stuff #fanfic #fanfiction #archive of our own #better call saul fanfic #saul x reader #light angst #jimmy mcgill #better call saul smut #imagines #hurt/comfort #character x reader

[garfeildfanpage]

Ok so this may just be a personal pet peeve I have but I can’t STAND when fanfics n such include characters listening to music that makes no sense for them to listen to

To each his own, I know everyone has their own understanding of characters; and self-projection is fun! But it’s just so exhausted and I want something that isn’t just the author using their own taste in music for once

Yes OBVIOUSLY a fictional character listening to mitski in a fan fiction doesn’t matter and I’m upset at nothing but when it’s in every single one, it can really strain the immersion

Don’t get me wrong, I love me some mitski! But variety is important, and can give a character more personality, even in fan works!

So, basically, here are my personal two cents on what I think the tbhk cast would listen to.

(If I come off as a hypocrite I give you the permission to shoot me)

Keep in mind I am not Japanese, nor anything close. My understanding of Japanese music stops at idol-game music and everything after that eludes my little brain. these are just vague ideas, to then be added to by someone more well versed than I, so do as you will. Doesn’t necessarily have to be Japanese music either, music is for everyone! Let teru listen to Rihanna! Have akane listen to one direction! Aoi listens to Belgian death metal! So yeah just take everything I say with a nice, handful of salt.

Yashiro: As shown in a volume extra (I think) Nene plays idol games! So it’s safe to assume that she enjoys J-idol music as well, which makes sense! J-pop fucks. ALSO mentioned in a volume extra, she enjoys jaded-lover-type music, which could encompass music akin to some 90’s J-Rock!

I would put suggestions here! But I am bad at listing artists - SUPER☆GIRLS is like the only J-idol group I listen to don’t hit me. ( 7/10 on the mitski meter: she could, and probably would listen to her, but only lush, only lush.)

Kou: Yeah not gonna lie if someone said he’d listen to weezer I wouldn’t have any reason to disagree, he’s very loser-rock and I mean that in the nicest way possible. Though to me he seems much more like a “I-listen-to-mainstream-rock-because-it-sound-good” type guy, keep in mind tbhk takes place in like 2014-2015 (I think) so whatever band were popular then, he probably listened to just that. Anime openings…fucking….Naruto…also, nightcore….anime openings… live that 2010’s life Kou you deserve it…be cringe…be free. (3/10 on the mitski meter: he wouldn’t, just cause he wouldn’t really encounter her in the wild. Maybe if he was recommended her…but not on his own.)

Hanako: ok look idk what the hell supernatural music sounds like so I’m just going to go off of the time period to which he was alive. Orchestras and Jazz were popular around the 1950s in Japan (along with other more western styles of music) so, that, probably, i don’t know. With Amane’s connection to music (at least vaguely) plays, musicals, and other type performances could’ve been an interest; though for Hanako, I don’t really know if he’d even have any interest in music specifically. So considering that he’d probably just listen to whatever people play around him. (5/10 on the mitski meter: totally possible, but not believable.)

Akane: m starting to blank gimmie a moment. Instrumental. That’s really all I can say. He listens to music when studying, cleaning, or performing any task where he has to focus, so anything rhythmic and calm, something to take up the brain space that isn’t doing the task at hand so he doesn’t get distracted by something else. Video game soundtracks (like Mario or some ambient bullshit), soft pop. He also seems like the kinda guy to just listen to whatever his parents play, so yes most definitely some old shit. Recommendations from Aoi or Nene. Basically just noise, a nice distraction from the horrible horrible world, yknow? (5/10 on the mitski meter: anything goes I s’pose)

Teru: Classical?? I guess?? Dude does not listen to dick, nothing, absolutely fuck all. Old classic, a nice orchestra or quartet. western or eastern it don’t matter, as long as it’s nice, repetitive, and peaceful it’ll do the job just fine. (2/10 on the mitski meter: probably too much for him to handle, man’s constantly on the edge of a mental break mitski’d kill him, maybe if he handled his underlying issues first, but until then no mitski)

Aoi: last one cause I am clocking out. Similar taste to akane, undefined and flexible. probably listens to the same stuff as Nene, though I think she probably enjoys older j-pop, just cause she seems like that, Yknow? Movie soundtracks, Anime soundtracks (shoujou, probably. Precure n such just cause Aoi seems like someone who deserves to heal her inner child, same goes for Akane as well) Similar to Teru she probably also likes the more calmer and downbeat stuff. (8/10 on the mitski meter: totally possible, I’d believe it, but she wouldn’t tell anyone, it’s her special secret.)

Anyway see you next week for more awesome pubg 360 no-scope compilations ninja out

#jibaku shounen hanako kun #jshk #tbhk #toilet bound hanako kun #hot cheese #akane aoi #aoi akane #yashiro nene #nene yashiro #amane yugi #minamoto kou #kou minamoto #minamoto teru #teru minamoto #god I love tagging this totally isn’t a massive inconvenience

[trainingdummyrabbit]

ok so i’ve just been feeling. real normal. the thing with angela is that i really really feel like a looooot of people refuse to see her as a complicated, nuanced, and EXTREMELY complex character in favor of disliking or hating her from reasons ranging from her treatment of the sephiriah in lobcorp to point blank misogyny. and like, im not saying you can’t dislike her. like and dislike whatever characters you want. but what’s really annoying is when people actively ignore core aspects of the story or the things that Led to angela becoming the way she was because it’s more convenient or just because they Don’t Like Her. every relationship she has including the one with herself and with carmen as two clearly different people by the end of ruina is messy and complicated turned up to the absolute fucking maximum. it’s easy to paint angela as the villain of the story at first, because that was…..the point. that’s what she was trying to do. in lobcorp she was keeping herself safe by playing that cruelty until it genuinely became an inescapable part of her that guarded the love that carmen (and then Angela by proxy) had for others. it kept her very clearly safe from the things she had to watch, the things she had to do and manage, and how she could never comfort a single person about the hell they were in, NOR could she confide in anyone else. playing off that, i think you could also definitely compare that idea of angela purposefully playing her cruelty up as a purposeful antithesis on her part to carmen’s whole theme of being perfect and their savior. by the lobcorp we play when we finish the 50 days, shes given up trying to be carmen, trying to be good, and is solely focused on herself— and that’s another thing too!!!! to a degree it wasn’t even focused on herself that heavily! a major part of her stealing the light was so that she could spite ayin and spit in the face of his plans, everything he had done for carmen’s “greater good”. angela playing (up) the bad guy is a purposeful thing!!! she’s doing it for a variety of reasons too: she’s trying to keep herself emotionally safe, she’s trying to double down to be as far away from carmen as possible, she’s trying to keep the sephiriah unattached to her and make them similarly cold to the way she is to minimize the pain they have to deal with. and it’s not like angela learned those ideas of “for the greater good” from nowhere. COUGHS.

sorry this is so long im just. so annoyed. i love you angie. im so sorry people don’t get you.

POINTS !!! POINTS AND CHEERS. GOD yeah that part of her character fucking KILLS ME so bad its fucking insane... i never leave my funy lil circle of mutuals so i am not exposed to The Bullshit(tm) but girlies... girlies weve had an ENTIRE GAME t go over this... every day i think abt that one post thats "Congratulations! You have fallen for the ruse this character has put up." bc like. [waves hands around]. MAN.

AND ESPECIALLY LIKE... that purposeful distance makes me think really hard about th pale librarian ending too; presenting herself in a way that breaks that bond before that bond inevitably breaks her-- constantly preparing for the worst because the worst is just what is always given to her. and how she allowed herself to forge a bond between herself and roland, one that ultimately ends up burning her yet again, and becoming a tie she has to snap with her own hands. how this completely reinforces her own self-defensive (and self-destructive) instincts, which ultimately lead to her doubling down on it in confronting the sephirah, ending up completely alone... thinks abt it real hard.

just!!!! grabs and SHAKES.... they werent kidding these hands really are in unloveable hands................... insufferable. iwould kill for them. if anyone is mean to angela ever im exploding them with my mind lasers.

#long post #PAWLOCHEESE IF MY RESPPONSE IS SCRAMBLED iam as they say: scrambled #but i think abt it so so much. literally cannot look at ppl talk abt ruinacorp w/o Intense vetting bc if i hear anyone give angela any mess #its on sight! it is Just on sight! nothing i can do abt this bc im Right; shrimply. #nothing in my brain but a single rotating png of her. u understand. #piktalk #projmoon #also i need u t know how DEEPLY funny it was catching this in my notifs and seeing Nothing but a 50x50 px AyinJumpscare.png JSNFJDH #to everyone able 2 interact w th community at large: 1) You Are So Powerful. 2) I Am So Sorry. #AND ALSO HOKMA'S ''You still are awfully dishonest.'' IS RIGHT!! THERE!!!!!! GOD!!!!!!!!

[sinnaminttoast]

Monarchal Summit…SPOILERS FOR PART THREE

I’m back on my bullshit to give you my reactions/thoughts on this video.

First of all I want to establish…HOW MUCH I LOVE PORTER SOLAIRE! Literally argue with someone else cause I refuse to change my mind on him 😍 he’s such a sassy man and I just…omg 🤭

If there’s one thing Porter Solaire will do…he will give his one liners

I haven’t gotten this giddy over a character since Gavin’s second love confession video. (Tbh also Hush…BUT I DONT NEED YA’LL JUDGING MY TASTES ON THIS POST! 😭 tbh I should talk about like my top five or seven characters…?)

I also never thought I’d hear him say “clout” but here we are.

Tbh, I’m not completely surprised Porter killed Alexander. He had the time to do it. Now my question is…He never told Asher that he was the one to push Sweetheart out of the room but maybe it was him? He also just never explained where tf he got that demon blood.

SO WHAT IF VEGA— *gunshots*

But omg…ya’ll this game is a MESS! All of the houses just do not give a fuck…AND ME TOO! FUCK BOTH OF THOSE BITCHES!

I don’t know if William fully thought this through though. Maybe he did but this kinda leaves a bad look on Vincent and Lovely. He already had no experience in hosting the summit. He was told to host the summit and THEN was told he had to deal with Porter. He was stressed OUT

And even at the summit, he gets treated like the naive kid who knows nothing.

I Can see why Vincent is upset. I’ll give him a slight pass since the only murder he’s ever committed was Adam and that was purely because he had broken vampiric laws? Customs? I forget the word. Anyways, he’s always been the type to just want normalcy. As much of it as he can have ever since he lost his humanity.

So to find out that the people you are around have blood on their hands and that there’s been a game going on unbeknownst to you…oof. My man has also been stressed the fuck out the days following up to the summit AND on the day of the summit…can’t say I blame him.

BUT WHEN PORTER SAID WILLIAM SEES VINCENT AS HIS CHILD???

Why would you say that? PEOPLE ARE CRAZY PORTER! 😭

William has quite the way of….doing things? But just because he ate this one little thing DOESNT MEAN I forgot what Dean wright said in the first video of the summit.

I’m not trusting we’re safe from Quinn and his friends UNTIL I HEAR HE’S DEAD!

AND ANOTHER THING—

Porter I’m so sorry sweetie for what you’ve been through 🙁

But not him just leaving and saying “I love my voice and all but I am tired after committing a bit of murder. Good night 🫶☺️”

He was also just getting tired of repeating shit 😭 like he was about to whack Vincent if he had to repeat “Closeknit and House of Bennett work together. Both bad. Me kill Alexander. Society = safe.”

Anyways…that’s all I have I think?? Oh and Lovely! I’m sure they’re pissed off about Vincent being hurt and how he was treated over all. Like…they just had their business all aired out and now their partner is just…hurt.

Is William a bad guy? Nah, I don’t totally disagree with him killing those two fucks. However, I wonder if he thinks this won’t bite him in the ass?

Idk..hopefully this does start leading to Closeknit’s downfall CAUSE I NEED THEM GONE

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted monarchal summit #redacted william #redacted lovely #redacted porter #redacted vincent #idk..thoughts #i hate my brain

[qin-ling]

hi - for the icemav prompt fic i was hoping to request either number 19 or number 63 !! (i cant remember my tumblr login lmao - im princ3sskenny on ao3)

hello!! i went with 19--i hope you like it! this one was real fun. :^)

--

19. “if we're caught kissing we're most likely dead but let's risk it”

This is new, Maverick thinks, when Ice approaches him after the post-mission debriefing with a face etched from stone and his eyes pale and cold.

For all his namesake, the Iceman is not actually made of ice. Maverick’s always been aware of this, even when Ice would give him bland, cool looks back in TOPGUN like Maverick was no better than a swatch of gum beneath his shoe. No—Ice has always blazed under there, especially nose-to-nose with Maverick, all competitive fire and colossal ego tempered only by the iron fist he has around his composure.

It’s a skill thing, that callsign of his. It’s Ice’s irreproachability in the air, his marble-wrought patience and crystal-cold perfectionism. Hard edges, sharp lines, every piece of the puzzle slotted together with laser-cut precision.

But it’s a whole different ball game, on the ground. On the ground, Ice bends when Maverick least expects it; yields when Maverick most needs it. Those razor-sharp lines become pliant and hazy. Despite everything, Maverick doesn’t think Ice has ever truly been angry with him. Has never really seen him angry, at all. 

Until now, anyway.

Ice approaches, and Ice doesn’t stop approaching, shoving right up into Maverick’s face and bullying him against the bulkhead with his height alone. “What the hell was that?”

“The hell was what?” says Maverick, glancing around. The passageway is claustrophobically tight, overflowing with exposed ductwork and pipes. They’re the only ones here right now, but from experience he knows it won’t be for long.

“Don’t bullshit me,” Ice snarls. “What were you thinking? That stunt you pulled—”

“It was a calculated risk,” says Maverick.

Ice’s eyes flash under the overhead light, the color of an overcast winter sky. “Calculated risk, my ass. It was stupid as shit and you know it.”

“You’re welcome, by the way,” says Maverick. “If I hadn’t done that—”

“I didn’t ask you to!”

“Well too fucking bad!” Maverick’s jaw snaps shut. His voice rings in the meager space, acrid and caught. He hisses between his teeth. Lowers the register. “You can’t stop me from making decisions like that, Ice. You won’t ever stop me.”

Ice’s upper lip curls. “You really think you’re invincible.”

“I told you, it was a calculated risk,” says Maverick. He raises his chin. “Besides, it worked. Got you out of radar lock, and we’re both back on deck. We’re both safe.”

Ice stares at him. Fury strings his entire body taut. His shoulders are rigid as a board, his handsome face an effigy carved into a mountain. 

“You put your RIO in danger,” he says.

“Merlin was on board,” Maverick fires back. “Besides, we all know the risks.”

“That’s right,” says Ice, deathly cold. “We do.”

“For God’s sake, Kazansky.” Frustration pounds in Maverick’s temples. He jabs a finger directly into Ice’s name tape, just above his heart. “What the hell’s your problem? Like it or not, I saved your ass. Just fucking accept it.”

Ice knocks his hand away. The USNA ring stings Maverick’s knuckles. “I won’t,” he bites out. “Not like this. Never like this. I would’ve been fine. Slider would’ve been fine. We could’ve handled it. As far as I’m concerned, you fucking panicked.”

“So what if I did?” Maverick snaps. “So what? What did you expect? I’m not you; I’m not called Iceman. I saw you in trouble and I did something about it. Fuck me for giving a shit, am I right?”

“And you think I don’t?” says Ice, knife-sharp, brittle as glass. “You think I can watch you risk your neck—for me, because of me—and just—what, exactly? Shrug it off? Move on with my day?” He laughs bitterly. “Is that what you really think of me?”

Regret slams into Maverick like a freight train, abrupt and staggering. “No,” he says. The air turns viscous in his lungs. “No, Ice.”

Ice grabs him, his fingers clamping hard around his biceps, trapping Maverick where he stands. His hands are shaking. Not from fury, Maverick realizes now, but from fear. “You’re not alone anymore, Maverick,” he says. His voice cracks halfway. “You’re not the only one with skin in the game. Never do that to me again.”

“Ice,” Maverick says again. He sags against the pipe at his back. Remembers, distantly, Ice’s voice over the comms, fuzzy with static but the alarm unmistakable, Slider shouting in the background. Remembers how his head went light with terror, with blinding panic—the icy fingers that slithered down his spine, slipped ruthlessly between his ribs at the very thought—the very possibility—

And then he thinks of Ice, watching Maverick swoop in like a fucking hero. Swoop in like Maverick had a fucking death wish, like Maverick was ready to leave the whole world behind. Leave Ice behind.

“Fine,” he says. He gathers himself. Exhales unsteadily, throat tight. “Fine. But only if you promise me the same.”

Because Maverick can’t lose Ice, either. He can’t. Not after—not when—

Ice is too close; close enough that Maverick can see the blue flecks in his eyes, the way his gaze flicks over Maverick’s face like he’s searching for something. The distant hiss and boom of a catapult above them rattles the overhead. Voices resound from an adjacent passageway, commingling with the clang of boots on metal floor grates.

This is dangerous. They shouldn’t be doing this, not here. Ice knows this better than anyone—is so scrupulous about it that it actually pisses Maverick off, sometimes, even though he knows, even though he understands. 

“Okay,” Ice says at last. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. Then another. This time, his shoulders relax. “Okay, Mav.”

But he doesn’t pull away. His fingers dig bruises into Maverick’s arms.

“You should let go,” says Maverick quietly.

Ice’s grip only tightens further. He raises his head, sweeps a look around. Then he leans in.

Maverick’s eyelids flutter as their lips meet. It’s too chaste, too quick. Not enough. Not ever fucking enough. He surges up on his toes, fists his own hands into the front of Ice’s flight suit. Manages to deepen the kiss for only a moment before Ice breaks it off.

Their breaths intermingle. Ice cups his neck, his hand warm and protective. There’s still a hint of strain around his eyes, a touch of tension rippling through his forearm—but his hold is gentle. Maverick aches, fiercely. When Ice finally releases him, finally steps back, he swallows through the bitter pang of loss.

Not a moment too soon; a pair of boots hammer down a nearby ladder. Ice immediately straightens, face closing shut, his bearing collected and aloof once more. They look at each other. 

“I’ll see you topside,” says Ice.

“Wait.” Maverick darts forward. He presses one more kiss to Ice’s mouth, brief and daring, his heart thudding in his chest. “Okay,” he says. “We’re good.”

Ice’s expression softens by the barest degree. He nods. Maverick allows himself to watch his retreat for only a second, then turns heel and exchanges greetings with the lieutenant who’s just rounded the corner.

Only a few more weeks. Maverick can hold on a little longer.

#icemav #top gun #top gun 1986 #prompt fill #i might take a pause soon to work on a new fic #more to follow <3 #qin writing

[hanasnx]

screw your friendship.

summary: han and you have been at this silly charade for a while. you’ve got a boyfriend you never see, but can’t seem to let go of. that sure doesn’t stop you and han’s “relationship” from blossoming out of your neglect. but he’s getting tired of beating around the bush.

minors dni 18+

character(s): modern!han solo x f!reader

warnings: infidelity kink, reader being technically unfaithful to their boyfriend, fem!reader so female pronouns + anatomy, a teensy bit of angst and a little bit of smutty dialogue <3, han being persistent

Your phone is pressed to your ear, Han’s voice on the other line. “What your boyfriend doesn’t know won’t kill him. He’s probably out having his fair share of tail right now, you shouldn’t feel bad—“

Your nerves are running amok inside your body. As if your skin is the only thing keeping you from going everywhere at once because of your snowballing mistake. “Don’t say that!” You hear his sigh.

“Sweetheart, listen to me. I’m tired of the game we’ve been playing. I want you, and I’m gonna have you. And your imaginary boyfriend can’t stop me.”

You sit up in your bed, pulling a pillow to your ribcage to calm your beating heart from the thrill he’s causing you. “It’s just that.. You can’t just..!” Somehow, you steel yourself from his wiles. “Han!Stop confusing me—“

“You know who can stop me? You. And you haven’t.”

You swallow, falling into complacent reticence at how his truth rings.

“You like the attention, and I’m happy to give it to you. All night. Say yes.”

You can’t even speak, your skin is on fire, your throat aches. So he invites himself to continue.

“You know how much I’ve been thinking about what you sound like? All those pretty noises. Wonder how tight you are, how wet I can get you.”

Hoping to displace him, gain the upper hand before it hopelessly eludes you, you scramble: “Aren’t you at work?”

“I’m in the truck on my way home. Gonna shower. Wanna join?”

A deep inhale and exhale, leveling your voice to speak as you rub your legs together. Regardless, you try to be graceful voicing your denial, “Han...”

His hurt shines through. The sting of yet another rejection. So he lashes out, “Yeah, it’s better that way, isn’t it? Staying safe. Stringing me along so you can have your cake and eat it too, right?”

Desperate to figure out a way to fix this, to show him you appreciate him, you’re quick to reply, “No, it’s not like that— I just… I cherish your friendship—“

A wry laugh that alarms you comes from the other line. “Bullshit! Bullshit you cherish my friendship. I should fuck you for lying to me like that.”

#indy: drabbles #ch: han #han solo drabble #modern!han #han solo smut #han solo x reader #x f!reader #x fem!reader #x female!reader #sw #han solo imagine #han solo fanfiction #au!han solo #han #infidelity kink #angst #han solo angst

[evita-shelby]

They didn't know we were seeds

Chapter 10

Lucy Winters belongs to @emotionalcadaver

Cw: mentions of death, suicide

Taglist: @justrainandcoffee @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @call-sign-shark

Augustus Braun is the winner of game 67, he was made for Capitol Couture which was material to get people hyped for the movies.

Telling his mother everything feels like a great relief.

He doesn’t leave much detail out of how his relationship with Eva began. He had never told her about what the Capitol does to Victors, he had never told her about Snow’s visit and his attempt to kill Eva.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did, mom. I know she killed Laurie; I know the games haunt her just as they haunt me, but being with her has made it all bearable.” Because he never realized how alone he was until he woke up that Monday morning knowing he’d have to leave.

Their lives and world were hell, but every second he spends with her on her farm is by far the best moments of peace he’s had since his games 7 years ago.

“Neither of us had a choice in that arena. She didn’t want to kill Laurie any more than I wanted to kill all those kids, even Juno.” He’d been trained all his life for them and when the moment of truth comes, you realize it’s all bullshit. That they made you kill for so called glory and in the end, you were nothing but an object to entertain them.  “I know you can’t forgive her, and we both understand why you can’t, but it won’t change my feelings for her.

I love her.”

His mother sighs in acceptance and speaks. “Out of all the girls in the world, you had to go with that one, kid.”

He loves his mother, knows she’s a good woman and stronger than anyone gives her credit for, but she won’t move him to break things off with Eva no matter how dreadful things get.

“If it makes you feel better, I don’t think she’s forgiven herself for it. She actually tried to deny the games a victor, but the Gamemakers were ordered to revive her or risk punishment.” The young man admits knowing all his secrets are safe with her.

“A rebel as well, oh joy.” His mother’s sarcasm reminds him he never got around to asking Lyme for what she sought out Eva for. It wasn’t just for him; Shelby was still a criminal and had bought those lands for a reason.

He couldn’t risk a visit to Eva now that every district is crawling with peacekeepers, he’ll have to wait until they reunite on July 5th for the 67th Hunger Games. He’s counting the days to see her, even if it means having to see children go off to fight and die.

Strange how he’s no longer seeing the games as he used to. Whether this new outlook is good or not waits to be seen.

July 5th comes and the first words he says when he finds Eva after the Tribute Parade are: “I love you.”

Took him long enough if you ask him.

He doesn’t bring up his mother, not today at least.

While their tributes go down to train, they make use of his empty suite. Matty had joined her as a mentor and while he’d be schmoozing sponsors in case their tributes live long enough to need one, his floor was closer.

She’s set foot in some of these, not this one though. Enobaria was not very friendly, and Lyme usually went to her floor instead.

“Wish I could take you to my cabin instead of this place.” Jack admits when he waves the Avoxes away and one of them is bold enough to wink at them as they agree to keep their secret. They like him, he’s boisterous and strangely carefree, knows when to keep his mouth shut too.

“Me too, shame travel between districts is forbidden. Who knows President Snow can add that to his campaign promises this year.” The left earring from the set Wiress gifted her pings as it detects several devices trained on them. The rebels had many victors in its lists, it made sense that they would join up. Something worse than living the games was sending two children to die year after fucking year.

Jack catches on quickly that they can’t speak about it here.

Her balcony was safe, the rooftop as well. Haymitch wouldn’t mind, he’s too out if it to even know they’ve been there. Cashmere’s dressing room was the only safe place in the entire suite.

Eva wonders if 2 had a nook or cranny that’s empty of cameras or microphones. She’d need to find it first and show it to Jack. It was why she’d accepted his invitation to have breakfast here.

He gave her a tour of the place, it was finer than 10’s floor. Decorated with the colors and some aesthetics associated with their district, with all the portraits of their victors scattered about. Jack looks so young in his portrait, reminds her of the boy from 1 everyone’s betting on.

Augustus Braun would win, this year the children reaped were on the younger side, hungrier because of the extreme weather that ravaged the country this spring. Even 2 had a tornado this year.

But 1 and 2 don’t know suffering like the rest of them, they are allowed to store food for this, they have enough to rebuild and act as if nothing happened.

Jack had learned to scavenge from her, how to survive without someone sending you food because even in the arena their sponsors fed them. He’d taught her how to hunt, how to wield a knife for other than cooking.

They could make it if it came to war. Running was out of the question; they’d be dead from exposure or bullet wounds before they got anywhere.

But she’s not been able to bring up the secret rebel society she joined just so she could play house with him every other weekend.

The only place without any sort of device spying on them was the sauna this floor had. And she tells him so.

“My mom thinks you’re a rebel, I’m starting to think she might be right.” He says revealing his mother’s feelings about their relationship.

She expected as much, and she reminded Jack she doesn’t mind it.

“If it makes you feel better, I didn’t know I was being recruited until Lyme showed up at my house.” Eva had wanted to tell him, just never found the moment. Didn’t want to ruin their happiness like that. “There’s many of us in it, Shelby is one of them too. Its why he gave me the farm, to gain a foothold in my district.”

Jack won’t tell, he’s not like that.

“They could kill you, Evie. What happens when Shelby gets taken down like Luca? What happens when it fails?” He voices the same worries she’s had all this time.

“But what if it doesn’t? Don’t you want to live in a Panem where we can be together freely, where we won’t have to send children to die for something they didn’t do? I know the risks, Jack, believe me, I do.” She had allowed herself to hope when he began to come without fail and imagined a life together with him.

A life where they wouldn’t have to leave the farm fearing they’d be caught, a life where they’d have a family together and not worry their children will have to brave an arena. Where no one would face what they had, where no one starved to death or died for knowing they deserve better.

“I won’t say anything about this, but I have my family to think of, Evie! I can’t do that Gina or my mom. You don’t know what they do to people in 2.” There is true fear in his eyes, something that makes her feel as if she doesn’t know what the Capitol is capable of.

“I understand.”

They don’t speak to each other until the games are in full swing. He claims he’s busy training his tributes, but she knows better than to believe that. Part of her fears that he won’t ever come to the farmhouse again, especially as the games draw to an end and he refuses to even meet with her in private.

“He’ll come around, Miss. Smith. They all do.” It’s not Shelby who approaches her at her balcony.

“Have we met?” the dark-haired woman asks the red-haired woman.

Shelby had become a widower in the past year. Some assassination attempt meant for him that took out his insufferable wife ---apparently, she wasn’t liked amongst her peers either according to Clemens. Some thought he ordered the hit to make space for his new lady.

Not Lizzie Stark, she’d moved up the ladder and moved on from Shelby. Married a swell guy who didn’t mind her past and was expecting her first child.

This woman was his right hand, the one who killed Finnick’s rapist and pruned what needed pruning.

The Red Demon, Clemens had named her when they saw her the first night on his arm.

She was pretty, with red curls and green eyes. Too pale to belong to any District, but there was something about her that told the victors she and Tommy had more in common with them than Plutarch and Fulvia.

“Not officially, Lucy Winters, Mr. Shelby's fiancée.” There is no handshaking, there is however an offered cigarette.

“Eva.” Eva had tried to give up the habit but now that Jack isn’t here to keep her grounded, she needs one badly.

“You and your loverboy are on the outs because of it, aren’t you?” to others it would sound like Winters means her killing Laurie and his mom hating her for it.

Those in their secret society, know its because he is not a rebel…yet.

Everyone goes through that phase, Cecelia, who won her games the year before Jack’s at 16, assures her. Cecelia had only joined when she felt her first born move inside her and knew she couldn’t let her children be raised for slaughter. She is pregnant with her second now, not old enough to be reaped but who’s to say where they’ll be in 10 years.

Cecelia claims she knows it in her bones that her children won’t ever be reaped. That

Eva wished she had that certainty.

“He fears repercussions, has a family to think of.” Eva doesn’t lie about his reasons. It was the reason everyone did as they were told.

Victors weren’t invincible.

Prostitution, the mentoring, the inability to do anything meaningful were all to show how powerless they are. Haymitch had only used the arena to win, and he’d lost everyone he loved. Cashmere and Gloss had families too, Enobaria, Jack, Finnick, everyone had someone they didn’t want the Capitol to touch.

And yet Cecelia had been braver than most by having children. Not many victors did, especially after the 25th games. Even the careers feared birthing a child for the slaughterhouse.

“He’ll come round to it; they always do.” The red-haired woman assures her as if knew it. “Might be by the end of the games or in six years, but they always do.”

In 5 years, Gina Nelson will turn 12, the birthday everyone dreads. Nothing like knowing death is coming for your child to make you hate the Capitol.

Eva should know, her mother killed herself on her 12th birthday.

#evacore #jack nelson #jack x eva #they didn't know we were seeds #hunger games au

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone: Chapter 97

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Rake (OFC)

Warnings: profanity and angst

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @munstysmind @secretaryunpaid @youflickedtooharddamnit @asirensrage @residentdormouse @alisbackalleybbq @themaradwrites @ninjasawakenedmystar @kmc1989 @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciationtag @occommunity @karimac @thebewingedjewelcat

If I forgot someone, please let me know! My brain is mush!

My tag list is OPEN! Just ask if you'd like to be added :)

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28860450/chapters/127049641

****

He paces the length of the deck as he waits for K to pick up the phone,  occasionally glancing over his shoulder and into the living room. Millie watches him in nervous curiosity;  undoubtedly concerned about his mental and physical well-being, and wondering about the conversation that will take place.  And when he gives her a reassuring smile, his daughter returns it with a shaky one of her own.  Then stretches out on the couch stomach down and faces the sliding door;  chin on her forearm as she continues to keep an eye on him. 

“Rake?” K’s voice on the other end of the line. 

“I’m here.”

“Sorry to call so late.  I know you’ve got little ones to worry about and…”

“No such things as too early or too late.  Not when it comes to my family.  And especially not when it comes to Esme.  I hope you have some good news for me.  That you’re not calling to stall things even more.”

“I’m not…”

“Where’s my wife?  I’m sick of playing these fucking games. Waiting on you to decide what’s best when it comes to her.  You don’t know her.  You don’t know a damn thing about her.  So how about you cut the shit; tell me where she is and I’ll pay you a little visit.”

“I’m not the enemy in this, Rake.  I’m far from it.  If it wasn’t for me…”

“I never said I didn’t appreciate what you’re doing; putting your ass on the line to make sure she stays safe.  But I’m tired of this shit; waiting on you to decide when you’re going to get off your ass and make things happen. I’m nearly out of patience, kid. And you don’t want to see what I get like when I run completely dry.”

“I’ve had to wait things out.  It isn’t easy, you know; finding the time to contact you. Not with all the bodies coming and going from here, all hours of the goddamn day. If any of them were to find out I was talking to you…”

“They’d put a half dozen or so bullets in you.  I get the risk.  But if you continue to fuck me around, whatever they would do to you?  I’ll make it look tame. Now where’s my wife?”

“I can’t let you just show up.  Do you know what kind of firepower we have here?  What kind of training these guys have?  It’ll only make things worse.  Right now,  she’s safe. But I can guarantee that if I tell you where we are and you decide to show your face around here? It’s not going to end well.  Especially for her.  And I know that’s the last thing you want; to put her further at risk. So how about you…”

“How about you give me something to work with, then? That won’t put an even bigger target on her back.  When are we going to meet?  ‘Cause I’m ready to go when you are.”

“Unless you agree to my terms…”

“I already told you. I’ll be alone.  I won’t try and follow when you leave.  I just want to get these meds to her.  To keep her and my baby safe.   Until you’re able to get her out there. So when is it going to be? Because we’ve wasted enough time.”

“Two days from now.  I’ve already made up an excuse.  Had to lower myself to the gutter and use my son, but…”

“We’ve all done things we wish we never had to.”

“You speaking from experience, or…”

“I’ve got a lot of regrets.  That I don’t wish on anyone.  But you’re going to have a bigger one if you don’t stop fucking me around.  We could settle this right now, mate.  Put this all to bed. Avoid all this needless bullshit. Just tell me where she is, and I will come and get her.  With a lot of people and a lot of firepower backing me up.  So if you want to get out of this alive…”

“Do I need to get her back on the phone? Do I…?”

“Don’t do that,” Tyler warns.  “Don’t weaponize her like that.  It’s a real piece of shit thing to do. Weaponize her like that.”

“Look,  I know you’re used to being the boss.  The one calling the shots.  The legendary mercenary who turned himself into a legendary boss. But I need you to let me take the lead on this. I’m the one that’s right in the trenches; trying to keep her alive. BOTH of us alive, for that matter.  And if you come around and fuck things up,  it’s all going to horribly wrong.  You think you have regrets now? How will it be if something happens to her? Because of YOU?”

“Please, Tyler,” Esme begs in the background. “Please just listen to him.   He knows what he’s talking about.  I know it’s hard for you sometimes;  you react emotionally when it comes to me and the kids.  But I need you to just stop. Please. Just stop and think about all of this.  Think about what he’s saying.”

Both chest and throat tighten.   Nearly brought to his knees by the sound of her voice;  the fear and the desperation that weighs down every tearful plea.   And as his grip tightens around his phone, he briefly closes his eyes, struggling to get the mixture of emotions under control. A combination of intense rage,  profound sadness and near-painful helplessness.  And emptiness and loneliness unlike anything he’s ever experienced before.

“I know what it’s like.”  K’s voice is softer; laced with patience and sympathy.  “Being used to always having a handle on things.  The one everyone turns to when there’s trouble.  And I also know what it’s like to feel all that slipping away.  It’s fucking awful, mate.   no longer being in control of things.   Especially through no fault of your own.”

“I have seven kids here.  That need their mother.   And you keeping her away from them even longer than you need to…”

“I’m doing what’s best for her.   I’m not doing this to cause more problems. Or to punish anyone. I know what these people are like; I know the kind of power they have and I know what kind of resources they have backing them up.  It’s why we can’t just jump into things; we need to play along and gain their trust and their confidence.  I can’t just break her out of here.  It’s not that easy.  And I think if you’d look at this as a mercenary and not as a husband, you’d say the same thing.  You wouldn’t take any unnecessary risks with a client, would you? You’d do whatever it takes to keep them safe, yeah?”

“We’re talking about a client. We’re talking about my wife.”

“Which is exactly why you can’t be taking risks.  Why you shouldn’t be WANTING to.  How many times have you had to talk a husband down? Or a wife? From doing something stupid?”

“More than once.”

“Well, now it’s my turn to talk YOU down. I’m not stalling.   I’m not dragging things out to make things worse on you or those kids.  Everything I do? It’s for Esme’s benefit.  And I know it’s a lot to ask, but you need to trust me.”

“That’s awful damn hard.  I don’t even know you.  I don’t just hand out trust to everyone I come across.  You’re holding my entire life in your hands.  And if there’s something I’m willing to die for, it’s her.  You and your buddies fucked with the wrong man.  And the wrong man’s family.  You do all this damage and then expect me to just blindly trust you? Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I’m the one who is keeping your wife and your baby alive.  And if you want to stay that way…”

“Tyler…”  Esme’s voice once more. Tearful.  Terrified. “...please just listen to him.  I’m begging you. Please.”

“I swear to God…”   Tyler growls through clenched teeth. “...if you hurt her in any way…”

“All I want to do is help.  Without causing more issues.  I tell you where we are and you come storming in here?  It will be the worst possible ending. You want your wife and your kid alive? Then you do exactly as I say.”

“Two days.  I’ll meet you at our place in The Kimberley.  If you don’t show up,  I will hunt you down.  No matter how long it takes.  And I will find you and I will make you suffer. Beyond anything you ever thought possible.”

“I don’t doubt it for one second.  But I WILL be there.  We’re on the same side, Rake.   We both want the same thing.  Your wife…safe and sound…back with you and your kids.  I’m not the enemy here.”

“You were.  Four nights ago.  When you showed up at the place in Tasmania.  When you stood by and watched your buddies take my wife.  And then stayed behind to kill me.”

“But I didn’t do it., did I? I backed out.  Couldn’t go through with that.”

“You’re just a regular bleeding heart, aren’t ya.”

“I’m trying my best here, alright?  I don’t want things to get any worse.   And if you don’t listen to me and you track us down and just show up here…”

“I already said  I’d back off.  But we need to get a couple of things straight.   This change of heart you had? When it came to killing me? Everything you’re doing to keep Esme and the baby safe? Whatever plan you’re cooking up to get her out of there? That doesn’t make us friends.  We’re not buddies. We’re not going to be hanging out or going for beers or sending each other Christmas cards.  Once this is over? You disappear. I better never see or hear from you again.”

“Fair enough.”

“And if anything happens to my wife, you’re going to wish you’d killed me that night.  Because I will hunt you down.  And I will put you in the ground. Don’t fuck me, mate.  Because those stories you’ve heard?  About the things I’ve done? The things I can still do?  They’re all true.”

“I never doubted it for a second.”

“I’ll meet you in two days.  You don’t show up?  I WILL find you.”

“I’ll be there,” K assures him. “And do as I say; don’t bring an army with you, don’t try and stop me from leaving, don’t have anyone follow me. I’m the only thing that stands between your wife and whatever these assholes have planned for her.  I’m sure you don’t want to chance it.”

“You just make sure she stays safe.  That no one lays a hand on her.  And if I find out all this time that you’ve done nothing but fuck me around…”

“If there was ever a time for you to trust someone, this is it. You need to take me at my word.  That I’ll keep her safe and sound and find a way to get her the hell out of here.”

“And what are you going to want in the end? If this all goes according to plan?  If you get her out of there and I bring her home? What are you going to want? As reward? A payment?”

“Just my safety.  All limbs attached to my body. All my internal organs still inside and functioning properly.”

“I guess we’ll just have to see about that.”

“Two days. I’ll be there.”

“Yeah…” Tyler snarls. “...you fucking better be.”

******

He wakes to the sound of little feet and voices overhead.  Addie and Brookie whispering and giggling as they scurry down the hall and towards the stairs. Declan cheerfully obliging Takota’s request to piggyback him to the kitchen as  TJ mutters in that grumpy, first thing of the morning way of his;  yet showing off his unlimited patience when it comes to Tanner’s cheerful, incessant rambling about the dreams he’d had.  And Millie and Alannah, discussing their plans for the day: seeing a movie with Nanny Stel, Addie, Takota and the older kids. 

It resembles a typical morning in the Rake house. A mixture of the immediately cheerful and energetic and their easily annoyed and frustrated counterparts.   Yet the reality will soon set in;  the realization that -as they’re settling into breakfast- that a huge part of their household is missing. An empty chair at the kitchen table serving as a stark reminder of the nightmare that is continuing to unfold around them.   

The little ones greet him with their unusual enthusiasm; Addie declaring how much she’d missed him and the tearfully declaring how she’d been worried when she’d woken up in the big bed and he wasn’t there to snuggle into.  He’s the best for snuggles after all; his body is big and strong and warm and safe.  

The safest place on earth, in her opinion.

With the help of Estelle, he manages to get the day started. Not only Fighting through the incessant pain that inhabits nearly every inch of his body, but struggling with the immense emptiness that Esme’s absence has left him with.

He’s standing on the back deck when Brookie rushes over to him; nursing his second cup of coffee and watching as the kids tend to their weekend chores. Watering the various plants in the garden and cleaning out the animal habitats; making sure food and water dishes are full and showering the ‘pets’ with unlimited love and attention.  They’d all been taught at an early age to put in the work;  learning as they toddled alongside their parents and asked what seemed like a million and one questions.  Their enormous levels of curiosity quickly paying off;  experiencing that rush that comes with the reward of accomplishment and pride.  

 Esme and him had always been on the same page when it came to how to raise a family;  he can easily remember those early days when Millie was still in her belly. Those often emotional late-night chats about the things they’d been robbed of in their childhoods; filled with promises to make sure their offspring never suffered in the same way.  Both determined to provide the same things:  lots of love, acceptance, and support.  While they’d be given both things they would need and desire, they would also be trusted with responsibilities; simply chores that would start in the toddler years. Their parents wanting them to grow up to be not only self-sufficient adults but damn good humans; compassionate and empathetic and blessed with both book smarts and practical hands-on knowledge.

“Daddy!” Brooklyn wraps an entire hand around one of his fingers and gives a firm tug.   “We got a problem!”

“What kind of problem?”

“A big one! No one got Pumpkin Lumpkin’s carrots ready! Momma always does them the night before; she puts them in a bag and puts them with my helmet and my boots.  So we don’t have to rush around and do stuff. But momma isn’t here so now…” Taking a deep breath, she exhales dramatically. “... there’s no carrots to take!”

“We’ll stop at the store.  On the way to the stables. We can run in and…”

“That won’t do! It’s not the same! Pumpkin doesn’t like the ones from the store!”

“I highly doubt Pumpkin knows the difference between store-bought and ones from our garden.”

“She’s REALLY smart, dad.  Super smart! She definitely knows! And she likes mommy’s carrots best. ‘Cause mommy’s are  grown with love.  ‘Cause she sings and talks to her plants and that makes them taste better.  Pumpkin will know something is wrong. If we don’t bring momma’s carrots.  And I don’t want her to know about mumma. I don’t want her to be depressed like us.”

His throat tightens and his heartaches.  Even in the smallest and most mundane of ways, Esme’s absence is an enormous loss to all of them. “I promise I won’t tell her.  And we still have a bit of time before we leave. Why don’t you run and grab some carrots?  That we can take with us.”

Brooklyn’s face visibly brightens at the suggestion. “I’m going to pick the best ones! Pumpkin deserves them!”

“Well, leave some good ones for humans. We gotta eat them too.”  He tousles her hair before she runs off, then calls to Declan to help her in the garden.  He’s inherited his mother’s green thumb; first developing a love for all things gardening when he was merely four years old.  Always excited to be ‘helping her’;  all smiles and giggles and chatter as he walked alongside her, carrying a watering can.

“Looks like ‘business as usual’ around here.”  Riley’s voice comes from behind as she lingers in the open doorway; leaning against the frame with her arms folded against her chest. And Tyler briefly glances over his shoulder; immediately noticing the absence of the vibrance that normally accompanies the redhead. Currently replaced by stormy eyes, furrowed brow,  and tightly set jaw. 

Sighing, he  turns his attention back to the hustle and bustle in the backyard.“Gotta keep things as normal as possible for them.”

“Things are as far from normal as they can possibly get.”

“I need to try to bring them a little bit of happiness.  Not every aspect of their life has to completely suck.”

“You certainly don’t seem to be suffering any.  You’re just back to everyday life.”

He wants to argue about it being the furthest thing from the truth; remind her that he’s the one suffering the most. Both emotionally and physically.  But at the same time, he understands her anger. Albeit misplaced, she’s worried and terrified and desperate to ‘get the show on the road’.  Anxious to do whatever she can to help find her sister.   And it’s her heartache that is convincing her that she needs someone to blame.  That she has to hold someone responsible for what happened.

“I’m just doing my best.  Trying to hold things together.  For my kids.”

Riley joins him, laying both forearms along the top railing of the deck.  “Might be better for them if they see something…anything…from you. Emotion wise.”

“I’ve shown a lot of emotion.   In front of them.  Just because you haven’t personally seen it, doesn’t mean it’s not happening.   I could turn the tables and say the same thing about you.  You haven’t exactly shed a tear.  Ranted and raved.  Not since a couple of days ago anyway.”

Scowling, she casts her brother-in-law a sidelong glance.

“I heard what you said.  To Shaena.  I heard ALL of it.  And I wasn’t going to say anything but I totally get where it’s all coming from.  It’s a hell of a thing that happened and we’re all suffering and we’re all trying to find a way to cope.   And I’ve been there myself;  worried and scared and angry and needing to take it all out on someone.  I think it’s pretty normal for a lot of people;  needing someone to place the blame on.  Even if it is no one’s fault.”

“But it IS your fault.  The blame is all on you.  You’re the reason this happened.  You and what you do for a living and all the people you’ve pissed off and…”

“What happened has nothing to do with me.  These people? That took your sister?  They’re from HER past.  Not mine.”

“Now there’s something I never thought I’d hear from you. Victim blaming.  Especially when the victim is your own wife. My sister.”

“That’s NOT what I’m doing.  I’m trying to explain my side of things. I was the one who was there, Riley. Not you.  All these details you have in your head? You put them there. I didn’t.  No one else. You let your imagination run wild; your brain made up all kinds of bullshit and you’re actually believing it.  Everything you said to Shaena? None of it was true.”

“Seems like it’s pretty cut and dry.  Someone is out for revenge. And they’re getting it through my sister.”

“There’s nothing cut and dry about this.  And yeah, they’re out for revenge. But not because of something I did.  Not because of the past I’ve led.   I HAVE crossed a lot of bad people. Stepped out on a lot of toes. Burned a lot of bridges. And I see how it makes sense;  someone out to get me so they chose her as a target. But that’s not what it’s about AT ALL.”

“Don’t even try and pretend you’re innocent in all of this. That who you are and what you do didn’t play some kind of part. Don’t…”

“I wasn’t even going to tell you all of this.  I even asked Shaena and everyone else who knows the details to keep it from you.  I wanted to protect you. I wanted to spare you from all of that.  Because this IS your sister we’re talking about.  But if you’re going to keep up with your bullshit, maybe it’s better if you do know the truth. So you shut the fuck up about me.”

Riley blinks at the vehemence in his voice.

“This is about Mark.  He’s the one behind this.”

“Mark.   Douchebag ex-husband extraordinaire?  That’s who we’re talking about, right? THAT Mark?”

“Don’t talk to me like that.  Don’t be a condescending little bitch. Yes. THAT Mark.”

“The same Mark that cheated on her while coming back from their honeymoon? By joining the mile high with a stewardess?  The same Mark that used to beat her senseless?  Force her to eat food off the floor?  Rape her? That put her in the ICU? TWICE.”

“I know everything he’s done.  Everything that he put her through. I probably know more than you do. Things she never even told you.”

“The same Mark that you ordered someone to kill? Only to later find out he was still alive? The same ‘back from the dead’ Mark you ever told my sister about?  Until it was too late?”

“I had my reasons. For not saying anything to her.  There was a lot going on; I had just been through all that bullshit with Nathan, she was pregnant with the twins. She didn’t need anything else added to her plate. I didn’t think it mattered; whether he was really dead or not.  She THOUGHT he was.  And that made her really feel at peace for the first time in years. I did what I had to do. For HER.”

“How come every time you decide something for her it ends up being the shittiest possible outcome?”

“I had no idea it would come back and bite me in the ass.  He flew under the radar for five years.  I thought he’d just given up; decided to leave us alone and go on with his life. How the fuck was I supposed to know he’d do some shit like this? You think I wanted this to happen? That I somehow ASKED for it to happen? Esme may be your sister, but she’s MY wife.”

“If you’d just left her alone. In Dhaka. If you’d just kept your dick in your pants…”

“Don’t bring that up. You have no idea what happened in Dhaka. During those five days. But it was more than that. Way more.”

“Y0u should have let her walk away. Afterwards.”

“I was in a coma. I woke up, she was there. I didn’t force her to stay.  I didn’t hold a gun to her so she’d stick around. That was HER decision.  Both on the bridge and off it.”

“You should have MADE her.  You should have…”

“She’s a grown woman, Riley.  She was a grown woman when we met.  Every decision she made? She made it on her own.  She stayed because she wanted to. Simple as that. And you know Esme as well as I do. No one tells her what to do. NO ONE.”

“You brought her into this kind of life.  You did whatever it took to KEEP her in it.  Knowing that there were people who would just love to get revenge. And use her to do it.  THAT should have been enough to convince her to walk away. That was selfish, Tyler.  And deep down, I think you realize that. You were selfish to bring her into this life.  And to bring kids into it, too?”

“I love your sister.  More than I ever thought it was possible to love someone.  I don’t regret how we met.  I don’t regret not trying harder to push her away.  I don’t regret a goddamn thing when it comes to her.  And yeah, there were times I didn’t do right by her. Where I was a really shit husband.  But we got past all that. We worked on our shit.  We still work at it. Every day.  So for you to stand here and accuse me of manipulating her or bullying her or…”

“What happened, Tyler? The other night? HOW did it happen? Can you at least tell me that? How someone like you -with all your skills and all your strength and experience and all the blood on your hands- could let this happen? How could you let them take her?”

“I didn’t LET them take her.  Look at me! Look how fucked up I am! Does this body look like it belongs to someone who just LET them?”

“She isn’t here, is she?  You have no clue WHERE she is.”

“You weren’t there. In Tasmania. You don’t know what went down.  I didn’t stand a chance.  It wasn’t just one or two guys.  I’m not even sure how many there actually were.  But they knew they had to blindside me; take me down and keep me down.  They knew every weak spot.  Every fucked up part of me.  And that’s how they were able to do it.  They took me out first and then went for her.  Do you really think I’d just let them walk in and grab her? You really think that little of me?”

“I never…”

“I fought. For as long and as hard as I could. I wouldn’t look like this if I didn’t.  And you know what they did? When it still wasn’t enough for him? They used her against me.  They were going to kill her, Riley. If I didn’t stop fighting and I didn’t calm her down.  They would have killed her right in front me. Maybe even done some really sick shit to her before that.  And you know what? They probably would have left me alive. So I’d remember every second of what she went through for the rest of my life.”

“Tyler…”

“Yeah, I gave up.   And that’s the only reason she’s still alive.”

“You don’t know that she is.”

“I DO know that.  I can’t tell you how. But I know that she is.  She’s not a hundred percent safe, but she has someone working damn hard to get her away from these people.  I love your sister.  I’d never do anything to hurt her.  Not intentionally.  I WILL find her. And I will make them pay. For EVER touching her.”

“You promised her.  When you met.  That you’d protect her. No matter what. Against anyone and everything.  You PROMISED,  Tyler.”

“And I meant it.  Every word.  I didn’t have a choice.  It was either lose her right there and then, or keep her alive and then do everything I had to to track her down.  It wasn’t an easy decision, believe me.”

“Promise me you’ll bring her home.  No matter what. Even if she is…”

“She’s NOT dead. She’s very much alive.  And I know you’re stressed and you’re scared and you’re pissed off.  I get it, believe me.  But I’m not the enemy here. I didn’t want any of this to happen.  All I want is for her to be here.  With me, with her kids.  That’s all I want. More than anything.  My entire existence? My world? It begins and ends with her.”

“Daddy! Daddy, look what I got!”  The soles of Brookie’s bare feet slap against the wooden deck as she races towards him.  And Riley mouths a ‘I’m so sorry’ before giving his arm a comforting squeeze and bidding a hasty retreat into the house.

Managing to swallow down the emotions,  he turns to Brookie with a smile.  “What’cha got?”

Frowning, she makes her way to the sliding door and peers inside, looking for her aunt.  “Where’d she go?”

“Who?”

“Auntie Riley. She was here and then she was gone and she looked really upset and…”

“She had a phone call.  What’cha got?”

The four-year-old relents and hurries over to him, proudly holding out a reusable grocery bag. “Look!! Look at all the carrots I got for Pumpkin Lumpkin! Declan helped me pick all the best ones! We put some in there for Bodhi too, but he loves apples more, so…”

“We’ll grab him some, on our way out the door.  You ready to go or…?”

“Daddy?” Brooklyn tilts her head to the side as she peers up at him. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t look okay?”

“Not really.  ‘Cause of what the bad guys did to you. If you don’t feel like going to the horses, it’s okay.  I won’t be upset. I understand. I know that you got a lot of ouchies.”

“Come here.” Scooping her up with his one good hand, he presses a kiss to her temple and then settles her on his hip.  “I WANT to go, alright?  It makes me happy; getting to spend time with you.  And I really need a little bit of happy right now.”

“I need some too.  But you don’t look so happy right this sec.  You look like you’re going to cry. Is it ‘cause you’re hurtin’? And ‘cause you miss mumma?”

“Yeah…” Manages a smile through a threatening flood of tears. “...I miss her a whole lot.”

“I miss her too. We’ll take lots of pictures! At the stables.  Like we always do.  Mumma always asks to see our photos! We can show her. When she comes home.”

“Gives her something to look forward to, yeah?  I’m sure you guys will have a lot of things to tell her.”

“I already have tons! Lots of stories. But I have to get to her before Addie does or I’ll be waiting forever!”

Chuckling, he places a noisy kiss on her forehead, then tightens his hold on her.  His eyes closed, chin resting on the top of her head.

*****

The stables are half an hour north. Sitting hundreds of acres of land that includes riding and jumping facilities,  buildings for boarding, and a modernized, eight-bedroom farmhouse that comfortably fits the owner and his extended family.  An army veteran thirty years Tyler’s senior; highly decorated and renowned for numerous acts of bravery and selflessness.  They’d met him and his wife through a support group for military PTSD sufferers and their partners, and an instant -albeit slightly reluctant on Tyler’s behalf-  friendship had evolved. 

 He finds it hard to be social. Not one for mindless chit chat and an immensely private person;  always desiring to keep certain parts of his life a secret.  But Esme had needed someone to bond with and he couldn’t deny or rob her of that.  Someone who would understand the fear and the worry and desperate need to take care of him; not judge her those feelings of helplessness when it comes to not being able to ‘fix’ him. And it had given her much-needed support, understanding, and guidance; someone -outside of him- that she could cry and vent to when things just became a little too difficult to bear.  

It was through Karl and Rose that they’d learned about equine therapy and the positive effects on many war vets battling various demons.  After six months of using a facility-supplied horse and being unable to deny the sense of calm and control riding gave him, Tyler had decided to purchase one of his own.   In turn, Brookie had shown and expressed an interest at a very young age; barely two years old when she’d first been taken to the stables and immediately toddling over to one of the holding pens and drawing the attention of many of the horses.  By the time she was three she could ride the ponies; showing impeccable balance and control of the animal for someone so young.  While not interested in the ‘higher end’ activities like show jumping,  she loves both her leisurely rides and how the wind blows through her hair during the harder gallops.  And she doesn’t mind the mess;  helping muck stalls and fill the feed and water troughs. 

Always used to being outtalked by Addie, she seizes the opportunity of being alone with him. Sitting on the hood of the truck while he tends to tying her riding boots and securing her helmet;  chattering about her week at school and about her excitement at getting to ride her horse and even cleaning her stall and grooming her afterwards.  And she skips alongside him as they head into the main holding barn; the bag of carrots and apples swinging  from one hand as the other tightly holds onto two of his fingers.

In that moment,  she reminds him so much of her mother. The zest for life and the intense and unwavering passion she commits to the things she loves. The fierceness with which she protects those closest to her and the startling amounts of empathy and patience.  And that smile as she beams up at him in pure delight; bright and beautiful and crinkling the corners of her eyes and the bridge of her nose. And somehow -in the painful, horrific midst of his worst nightmare- she manages to pierce the dark and stormy veil that’s shrouded him for the last four days.  Bringing a tiny yet much-needed amount of warmth and sunshine.   

“You know what I want to do, dad? When I’m older? And Pumpkin is too? Guess what I want to do!”

“Show jumping?”

“I already told you tons of times! I’m not into that.  That’s NOT my thing.  That’s more something Addie would do. IF she wasn’t scared of horses. I don’t get it, daddy. How is anyone scared of them? Especially Pumpkin Lumpkin and Bodhi. They’re so sweet! They wouldn’t hurt her.”

“I think it’s because she’s so tiny and they’re so big. It scares her; being so high off the ground.   Probably afraid she’s going to fall off. It’s why your mum doesn’t want to ride.  She’s scared of getting hurt.”

“Bodhi is really big but Pumpkin isn’t. She’s still a baby.  Maybe we can get Addie one of those little mini horses. Remember those? The ones I learned on?  They’re mini just like Addie so maybe she wouldn’t be scared of them.  Can we? Get her one?”

“I can definitely talk to your mum about that.”  

His heart sinks the moment the words leave his mouth. Just something else he took for granted;  her presence in his life, home, and bed always a surety.   And now even the basics have been viciously torn away; he can’t just send a quick text or call her on the phone or simply wait to arrive back at the house to share something he’d seen or heard while he was out. 

For thirteen years,   Esme had been the one constant in his life. Her mere presence had gotten him through the darkest and most trying of days following Dhaka; consistently and devotedly camping herself at his bedside and refusing to leave even when given the most dire of prognosis.   She had supported him through the months of recovery;  his one-person cheering section as he laboured and struggled to relearn even the most basics of tasks and functions.  She had taken him back after their sixth-month separation; tearfully calling him in the middle of the night and begging him to come home.  She’d missed him and didn’t want his absence to become permanent; worried his drinking and drug use would only grow in need and intensity and lead to his demise.  And he’d followed every ‘rule’ that she’d put forth; checking himself into rehab and anger management and agreeing to attend both solo and individual counselling.

She’d been there after Nathan had destroyed both his body and his mind.  Accepting the responsibilities of feeding him, washing his hair, helping him in and out of the shower.  Never losing her patience when the lingering effects of his concussion and added brain trauma had caused him to ask the same questions over and again. She had been by his side when he’d been given the CPTSD and Bipolar diagnosis; angrily and adamantly refusing his suggestion that she walk away and spare herself the torment that would come with having to put up with his ‘episodes’. And the very real worry that he’d one day snap and take all his frustration and hurt out on her and the kids.

“We’re better together than we are apart,”  she’d reminded him.  “You said  that yourself. In Dhaka. So if you think I’m letting you deal with this on your own, you’ve got another thing coming.”

So many roles in his life that she fills.  Loyal confidant.  Fervid supporter.  Best friend.  Lover.  Wife. Mother of his children.  And he’s simply not ready to give any of those up. 

But it’s lonely and he feels so empty.  His broken and aching body constantly reminds him that he isn’t the same man he used to be.  And he worries that maybe…just maybe…he really HAD failed her.  Reneging on his wedding day promises to provide for her and love her and cherish her. To keep her safe, happy and warm.

And to always…above all else…protect her. 

“Mumma will say yes!” Brookie declares, oblivious to the darkness that has descended upon him.  “Mumma loves animals! Like me.  And like you! We all love animals!”

“No one loves quite as much as you. And you never did tell me what you wanted to do.  When you’re bigger.”

“I wanna own a ranch! Just like this one. Well maybe not JUST like it, ‘cause I wanna raise cattle and have some alpacas and a pumpkin patch where people come at Halloween! I’m going to decorate it all up and it’s gonna have apple cider and pumpkin muffins and cookies and pie and there’s gonna be a haunted house! And a hayride! There’s GOTTA BE a hayride.”

“What are you going to do the rest of the year?”

“Spend time with my cows. And my alpacas. Don’t worry, I’ll have some chickens for you and some goats for mum.  ‘Cause they’re YOUR faves.   Maybe I’ll even have horse riding lessons and stuff like that. Or have summer camps for kids!”

“Sounds like you got it all planned out.”

“I’m gonna be a cowgirl! I’m going to wear cool cowgirl clothes and hats and on special days Pumpkin will get her hair braided and her ribbons will match what I’m wearing.”

“You’re going to make a mint.  Beef is a huge business around here. Always in demand.”

Brookie stops dead in her tracks; brow furrowed as she stares up at him incredulously.  “Excuse you, dad! The cows aren’t going to be for eating! Those cows are gonna be my pets! You can’t eat my pets! You wouldn’t let anyone eat Mac or Saju, would you?”

“There’s kind of a big difference between a house pet and beef cattle.”

“Listen, you can get your meat somewhere else. Eat someone else’s cows. Not mine! I swear if any of them go missing and up in the freezer, I’m going to know it was you! And I’m really going to be pissed and I’m not going to talk to you  for a long time. Like a week. Or two! Just to teach you a lesson!”

“Oh man,” he heaves a long, dramatic sigh. “How will I ever cope? A week or two of peace and quiet?”

“Dad…”  Planting a hand on her hip, she cocks her head to the side. “...that is NOT friends!”

“You just told me I can’t eat beef again. I’m a carnivore, damn it.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t eat it ever again! I said you have to get it from someone else!  Eat someone else’s cows. Not mine.  That’s eating your own grandchildren, you know.  That’s the only kids you’re getting from me! Why would you eat them?  You’ll be okay. You’ll find meat somewhere else. Just go to the shops!”

“How did you know ‘carnivore’ means someone that eats meat? You’re only four.”

“It’s ‘cause  I’m smart. Like mum.”

Tyler smirks. “Is that a backhanded way of calling me stupid?”

“You’re smart too, daddy.”  Brookie curls her arms around one of his thighs and leans her hand against him; eyes sparkling mischievously as she grins up at him. “In your own way.”

“You’re a real little shithead, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know!”  With a giggle and a squeeze of his leg, she turns on her heel and skips off into the barn. Pausing only long enough to cast a glance over her shoulder and add, “Mum says I get it from you!”

*****

An hour later, he keeps an ear open for any difficulties in the stall next to him.  Brookie tending to Pumpkin; alternating between talking herself through each step of the care routine and repeatedly singing, “Dirty deeds! Done dirt cheap!”. Earlier she’d insisted on carrying the feed and water buckets herself; slow yet steady trips across the barn as she muttered about how heavy the hauls were.  Informing him: “I can do it! I can do it!” each time he offered a hand.

“Daddy?”

Glancing  over his shoulder, he finds his daughter peering through the slats in the wall that separates the horses’ stalls “Brookie?”

“I got a bit of a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

“Pumpkin is out of those salt licky things and I checked the storage in here and there’s none there.  I know where they keep them. Out back. And I’m not supposed to go anywhere unless I tell you or ask permission. 

So is it okay if I go and grab some? I’ll be really quick. Like a ninja.”

“Promise? Just there and back? No stopping every stall to say hi to the horses?”

“I promise. There and back! No stopping to say ‘hi’. But it’s going to kill me not to!”

“Go ahead then.”

Tyler keeps an eye on her from over the partition; gaze following as she bolts from Pumpkin’s stall and then scurries through the barn and towards the rear exit.  And he returns his attention to Bodhi when the four-year-old steps out into the sunshine;  speaking in a low, smooth tone as he gently glides a brush through the horse’s mane and along his glistening, chestnut coat.  

There’s something so comforting about it;  the smells, sounds, and sights within the barn’s four walls.  The smoothness of the horse’s coat against his palms and the coarseness of the mane as it slips through his fingers.  Far more therapeutic than any counselling session has ever been; no awkwardness between yourself and a doctor,  no embarrassment at some of the secrets and confessions you share.  And he thoroughly enjoys his time at the ranch;  left alone to tend to his own business and the fresh air and rolling hills soothing him in ways no medication ever could.

He’s filling the water and food troughs when it happens.  An ear-piercing scream that he can hear over the din inside the barn; managing to find its way over the rustles of horses within their stalls and the loud chewing and slurping and the grunts and neighing.  And it makes his blood run cold and every hair on his body stands on end;  initially rooted to the spot he stands in before his instincts take over.  Crossing the stall in two long strides and rushing for the exit; hand reaching under the bottom of his t-shirt for the Glock -nestled in its holster- that he’d clipped to his jeans before leaving the house.

“Daddy!” Brookie’s panicked voice floats in the air. “Daddy! Help! Help me please!”

The sunshine burns his eyes when he steps outside; initially blinding him.  When he regains his senses he glances down and finds a panicked Brookie looking up at him;  her vision blurred by tears of both frustration and fear.    And both feet stuck in a large, thick puddle of mud.  

“Daddy, help! I can’t get out!  I can’t move my boots! Not without my feet coming out!”

Relief surges through him and his fingers slip from the handle of the Glock; tucking it back into its resting place and covering the holster with the bottom of his t-shirt.   And he drops to a knee in front of his daughter; her hands immediately clutching his shoulders as he investigates the situation. 

“Calm down. You’re alright. I’ll get you out of there.”

“What if you can’t? What if I have to stay here forever?!”

“That’s not going to happen. It’s just mud.  Not like you’re stuck in concrete.”

“What if it isn’t mud? What if it’s quicksand? What if it’s quicksand and it sucks me under!”

“I won’t let that happen. And besides, it’s NOT quicksand.”

“How do you know?”

“I know everything, remember? Santa’s email and phone number, how to speak kangaroo.  Now just take a breath and calm down and I’ll have you out of there in no time.”

“I don’t want to lose my boots! They’re my favourite! Mummy got them for me.  And it might be the last thing she ever bought me and I won’t have them anymore and…”

“You won’t lose your boots,” he assures her. “Or your mum.  She’s got a long life ahead of her. Lots of time left to buy you things.”

“You sure?”

“I am one hundred percent sure.  I’m going to find her mum and bring her home and she’ll never…ever….get taken away again.”

“You promise?”

Tyler mods.

“Pinkie promise?”

He hooks his little finger around the much tinier one offered to him, then leans in to peck his daughter’s forehead.  “You’re alright, Brookie.  Nothing bad is going to happen. You’re not going to be stuck here forever. Maybe a few days. At the most.  And if that happens, I promise I’ll come visit three times a day and bring you all your favourite snacks.”

She manages a shaky, tearful smile.

“Let’s get you…and your boots…out of there, yeah?  Then we’ll get you clean and finish stuff with Pumpkin and Bodhi and go for ice cream?”

“Can we get a banana split to share? That’s always our special treat.”

“You read my mind. I was just thinking the same thing.  Come on, let’s get you out of this nasty old mud.”

As he begins working at clearing layers of mud with his bare hands,  her much smaller ones come to rest on his shoulders; tiny body leaning into his, her chin resting on the top of his head.  And after several minutes of scooping away muck and wrinkling her legs, she’s finally free and she gives an ecstatic cheer, an enormous sigh of relief, and then promptly bursts into tears.

“Daddy…” Her sobs shake her entire body, and she curls her arm around his neck and buries her face in his shoulder.  “...Daddy…”

He wordlessly comforts her; one muddy hand in her hair and the other on the small of her back.  Waiting until her sobs diminish in frequency and force before speaking.  “This isn’t just about getting stuck in the mud.  And the boots.”

Brookie vigorously shakes her head.

“It’s about your mum, yeah? And how much you miss her?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to.  And I’m not going to force you to.  As long as you know that when you’re ready to get it all out, you know where to find me.  You’ll come to me, yeah? And tell me all about it?”

“I don’t want to make you more sad.”

“Listen to me, Brookie.”   Pulling away, he clasps her face in his hands.  “It doesn’t matter what I’m feeling or what I’ve got going on.  Don’t ever worry about that.  You come first. You and your brothers and your sisters. So promise me;  that you’ll come and talk to me. Promise?”

“I promise.”

“ I know you want to be strong.  Especially for Addie.  And you are an incredibly brave and strong little girl for even trying.  But do you know what the best thing is? For your sister?  For her to see you get upset.  Because she might be older, but she idolizes you and wants to be just like you.  And right now? She needs to know it’s alright to be sad.   To get angry. Cry a lot.  That’s what she needs.   I mean look at your brothers;  they’re not afraid to show it.  Even TJ and Delcan, as tough as they are.  Even She-Beast Millie’s been out in the open about it.”

“She-Beast,”  Brookie repeats, and manages a giggle. “And you cry too.”

“I do.  Lots of daddies cry.  Even the really big and really strong ones.  It took me a long time to do it, though. In front of people. And you know who taught me that it was alright? Your mum.  And she is the smartest person I have ever known. Not to mention the strongest.  So don’t hide things, okay?  That’ll just hurt worse in the end. And for a long time.  I don’t want that for you.  I don’t want you to end up like I did.  Understand?”

She nods. “I understand, daddy.”

“I miss your mumma so much.  Every second of every day.  She’s not just my wife and the mother of my kids, but she’s my best friend.  And she’s been all those things for a long time now.”

“You promise you’ll find her? And bring her back?”

“I will do everything I can to make that happen. So that we get a lot more years with her.  So she gets to meet her four-legged grandchildren.”

Laughing, Brookie rests her forehead against his.  “I’m scared, daddy.”

“I know.”  Pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose, he again embraces her;  large, muscular arms holding as tightly as that little body will allow.  “So am I.”

#Tyler and Esme series #Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fanfic #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction #extraction 2 #Extraction fanfic #Extraction fan fiction #Chris Hemsworth #Tyler Rake x OFC #Esme Drummond #Esme Rake #Rake kids

[trashquisitor-shirozora]

I keep feeling like I’m taking the mandalorian s3 way too seriously when I get mad about what’s happening… but I just can’t help how upset it’s making me 😭 I stopped watching after episode 2 but have kept up for the most part. Going through the mando tag here on tumblr is so surreal because there are people actually thinking the direction makes sense and that DinxBo is a natural next step?? Anyway, I really appreciate reading your thoughts on how it’s all going. Makes me feel like I’m not alone in this!

(I hope you don't mind me lumping my response/thoughts re: your ask in here too, @just-prime, since uh there are a lot of spoilers in it and I'm not sure it's a good idea to make it public)

You have every right to be upset. This is a show you invested in, a show that sold you a story of a lonely Mandalorian bounty hunter and his Force-sensitive child in a post-war galaxy. It gave you story beats and the promises of adventure, trials and tribulations, and self-discovery in the micro and the macro. There was a road map in all the ways Din discovered and challenged himself as he gave up basically everything he ever knew about himself, his covert, and the galaxy to keep the child safe and get him to his kind. There was a story to be told here in Din taking his helmet off in front of other living beings to save Grogu and in Din winning the Darksaber from Gideon despite Bo-Katan's best efforts to get it back.

I wonder how much of this was corporate meddling to keep raking in the money (KKKennedy, is that you and your white girlbossing ways again?), how much of it was success getting into Filoni and Favreau's heads that they think they can turn bullshit to fucking gold, and how much of it was the game plan to MCUfy Disney Wars. This is fascinating the way that the Sequel Trilogy was fascinating, in that somehow, both times, Disney fucked the fuck up.

People will take what they want from whatever they're consuming. It is what it is. I quit after the season premiere because i hated the short runtime, the cramming of three different potential subplots into thirty fucking minutes, the ridiculousness of all three subplots, and, most of all, the desecration of IG-11. I read elsewhere that the season premiere was a hit! People liked it! They were excited by it! Good for them! I'm glad they got something out of it. People got paid and put hours, blood, sweat, and tears into producing this show and I would want for them to know that their efforts were worth something.

But it is so hard to ignore how increasingly inconsistent, aimless, illogical, and bewildering the the entire season has been. We have now seen 7 of 8 episodes and even the 7th episode, supposedly the "best of the series", got a ton of complaints on a storytelling level. I read elsewhere, both on tumblr and twitter, that this season is now very plot-driven rather than character-driven when previously the show was extremely character-driven. Season 1 happened because Din couldn't leave Grogu behind in Imperial hands and thus uprooted himself and his covert with his decision to go back for the child. Season 2 happened because Din was now searching for Grogu's kind while we the viewers knew that Gideon was alive and well and likely still hunting for the child. Season 3 - and I'm saying this as someone who'd been reading reaction posts, summaries, meta, discourse, etc, instead of watching it because I love myself enough to Not Do That - doesn't seem to have that. It really felt like the story beats, wherever the fuck they were, felt more like "now move from Point A to Point B in order to get closer to Point C". They needed to check things off on a list in order to prepare for the MCUfication of the Disneyficaiton of the OG Thrawn Trilogy, something that I know a lot of people want... but at what cost?

I really hate how likely it is that the show is going to push DinxBo on us and I really hate how much people are expecting it and dreading it. I hate the compulsive heternormativity and the expectations and dread that come with it. I hate how it ruins characters and stories. If you like this ship, good for you. Don't talk to me, I don't care.

This really feels like watching The Last Jedi all over again. I was sold on Finn and Rey as co-leads only to be told to my fucking face that white neo-fashy Kylo was now co-leading because for some reason Rey got it into her head to save him? Meanwhile Finn got tazed and shoved to the side in a tone-deaf subplot with Rose, and Poe turned into a bizarre caricature who needed to be taught lessons by older white women. Like, sorry but I can't unsee this shit. I can't undo the betrayal I felt at the bait and switch of the ST.

And now it happened all over again with The Mandalorian. I'll give it one thing: When Din and Greef first encountered the pirates on Space Renn Faire Nevarro, I got those space western vibes again. And for those few seconds, I felt hope that the previous however many minutes were just a rough start and we're back to space westerning our way to Mandalore. That hope died real fast, didn't it? Fuck me, I guess.

I've started using Tumblr's tag tracking feature to keep tabs on the more critical Mandalorian tags. I'll add them to this post so that you can use them yourself. There are also a lot of interesting coversations happening elsewhere by various blogs. You might have to get creative with your tag searching. Just know that just as many people are out there happy with this show, there are just as many who are dissatisfied with it. That's usually how it goes, but man I can't remember the last time I saw a bunch of the fandom community turn on a show/movie/book series the way we've done with The Mandalorian. It's a damn shame because deep down, a part of me is desperate for it to find its feet and get good again. But honestly, with all the announcements that came out of SWC 2023, I think that ship has sailed and the best thing to do is take all the good you can find from it and mold it into your own sand castles.

#shirozora awkwardly responds to asks #the mandalorian #the mandalorian critical #mando critical #the mandalorian season 3 #mando spoilers #mandalorian season 3 spoilers #sorry this ask got a leeeeettle too rambly #but today was a helluva day between all the meta and discousre and being nearly triggered by gif sets from the last minutes #and honestly i just feel so disappointed and frustrated by the writing on the wall #to me it's also running into the same problem I had with Kenobi which was that there was a fixed point that neither show can deviate from #and I have no faith in Favloni being able to give us good storioes up until Filoni's movie comes out #I think a lot of other people have already said so much about various aspects of this show #and quite frankly I'd rather work on my fic now and try not to think that favs and I crossed brain wavelengths at some point in 2021

[emilykaldwen]

The individuals harassing people are just offering softsoap apologies because a fire has been lit under their asses with the threat of legal action. Absolutely hollow. One of them posted it was about winning a fandom even as they regretted the means of achieving it. Winning what? It's a fandom. It's fanfiction. We should be having fun. It's just fiction and we are the fans. They're turning into the Hunger Games here. Absolute unbelievable behaviour from these kind of people. If it's true they were operating in other fandoms then safe to say they will do it again.

First off I love the term softsoap and now I need to add it to my lexicon.

Genuinely, I wish people in GENERAL would understand that there is the bullshit internet bullying and trolling, and then there’s actual cyberstalking and harassment. Should Ange move forward with legal rep (which I fully support), at best I can see them getting banned from tumblr (hey staff, how about getting to those harassment reports we’ve all been filing across the platform). At worst? I can’t speculate. But it won’t be fun, that much I know.

I hope what people learn from this is that actions SHOULD have consequences. We are all so ready to shout out to not stand silently when people are harassed in our every day lives, that should hold true here. It’s why I came out immediately after being contact about ‘why did you block me?’ With screenshots of the conversation that individual was twisting. I know why people don’t want to be part of the ‘drama’ because frankly, the behavior these people have shown is beyond anything normal. But I’m also completely disgusted by people going ‘I don’t want to pick sides’. I can only speak for myself: I did fucking nothing to anyone, but there’s a side when people are going around claiming I’m running a cult? Setting up hate blogs about me? I’ve never interacted with any of them, I’m literally some fucking random small blog they decided not to like because they happened to fit the toxic behavior profile I called out.

And that was nothing compared to what they’ve done to Ange.

Me at these assholes: that’s my purse I don’t know you!

I have had these people blocked long before I ever became friends with Ange or Em. 95% of the time it’s ‘your take crossed my dash and I didn’t like it’ or ‘wow you are tagging things that don’t belong in the tag’ or ‘wow you make me uncomfortable and I don’t want to see any more of this’

As everyone fucking does.

This is beyond ‘Hobbyless Behavior’. What does winning fandom even mean??? That you want to be the most well known asshole? Because honey lemme tell you, this is just one section of fandom. I have mutuals that have messaged me going ‘who the fuck are any of these people?’

I’m mostly just devastated for everyone whose first fandom experience is a bunch of narcissists intent on DARVOing their way through this (deny, argue, reverse victim and offender). I know one of them has been in the Outer Banks fandom. Would not be surprised if they had been in others.

#yeah i said what I said #I’m too old to interact with minors #and I would not be surprised if these people were lying about their ages #because grown fucking adults acting like this boggles #but then I’ve seen how grown women act on JustNoMil and all those bridezilla Reddit threads #so