#THESE MEN DO NOT KNOW EACH OTHER. the first brother; i have known he existed my entire life

[fingertipsmp3]

What is going onnnn

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (23)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: masturbation, sexual tension, smut, angst, manipulation, blackmailing and threats ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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Alys had always known that, like any bastard child, she could only rely on herself. Her existence was merely an unfortunate accident to her father and brothers, with which they nevertheless came to terms, and she, in their minds, should be grateful for being allowed to stay and serve in Harrenhal.

Indeed, she never considered herself to have been significantly harmed by fate.

Compared to women who had to sell their bodies for money in order to survive, her function as herbalist and wet nurse completely satisfied her.

Milk filled her breasts along with the baby that one of the guards had put inside her. When he pressed her against the wall and lifted her gown, panting that he had desired her for a long time she did not stand up to him, even helping him by bending over and spreading the folds of her womanhood before him so that he could more easily hit the right spot with the thick tip of his length.

This particular man never aroused her desire, however, he supervised her chambers, and since she allowed him to enjoy the pleasures of her body, he closed his eyes to when and where she went out, giving her more freedom.

His wife, however, was not comforted by the fact that her husband had a mistress.

She could not conclude that her husband was a good lover; his hands only clenched greedily on her firm breasts, his thrusts violent, fast and deep. She knew that as he chased his fulfilment hissing that he would fill her with his seed, it did not even cross his mind to touch her between her thighs or ask what would give her pleasure.

She did not, however, resent him.

She recognised that this was how men were.

Although she tried not to think about it, the sight of his wife, one of her father's servants, filled her with remorse, for although she knew that this woman did not love him, she humiliated her every time she took away what belonged to her.

She had nothing to justify it, but she knew that if she told him to stop she would arouse his anger and his behaviour towards her would change.

He might want to take revenge on her for rejecting him.

She couldn't allow this to happen.

What he didn't know was that he wasn't the only man she allowed to sink between her thighs for the benefit; it was easier and sometimes even more enjoyable than trying to bribe them with money, which she didn't have much of anyway. What she was able to do perfectly was to observe people from the sidelines − their reactions and desires, coming to her own conclusions about what they needed and wanted.

Usually these men wanted not only sensation and elation, but also reassurance, a warm word and understanding; they lay with their faces cuddled between her breasts, muttering for her to stroke their heads, and she did so, allowing them to turn from men into innocent children for a moment.

The women in the fortress began to whisper among themselves that the ease with which she seduced men and with which she maintained her beauty despite her age was due to the fact that she was a witch.

She smiled piteously as she strolled through the corridors of the fortress, overhearing their conversations from afar, hearing about the potions she gave to poor, unaware men so they could not forget her, that she bathed in milk and blood to keep her face young and bright.

She did not deny the accusations, because she derived satisfaction from the fact that they feared and avoided her.

Fear, however, also tended to provoke interest and curiosity, and the young, newly arrived servants who were just learning their trade could not tell what they thought of her.

When she needed a break from the men's sweat and their aggressive, deep thrusts she sought peace and solace in the arms of young girls, much more gentle and understanding when it came to the nature of female fulfilment, their sweet moans and surprised expressions as she caressed them made her feel a pleasant pulsation between her thighs.

Although the prospect of becoming a mother did not fill her with particular joy, when she woke up one morning, feeling a pool of wetness under her thighs and saw blood, the squeeze in her throat and the tears she felt under her eyelids were proof that some part of her hoped she could love this innocent creature that was growing inside her womb.

This did not happen, however, and she, not wanting to waste her milk, from which her breasts had already swollen, decided to feed the children whose mothers had too little nourishment.

She considered her life quite prosperous and peaceful until her father and half-brother died in a fire.

Until Larys became the Lord of Harrenhal.

Everyone, including her, feared him.

He was like a writhing viper, tightening slowly around the necks of those who aroused his suspicions, his gaze black and completely blank, as if he experienced nothing, felt nothing inside himself.

He could not be seduced, appeased, pleaded with, persuaded.

He was like a stone, merciless, cruel, taking satisfaction in domination and power.

She never got in his way.

One evening, however, he summoned her to his chamber, and she feared what he desired.

When she stepped inside he was sitting at the table, having just eaten his evening meal. He smiled slightly at her in a way that made her feel the cold sweat on her back; his eyes remained indifferent, glowing mischievously in the firelight.

"Sit down, sister. I wish to discuss something with you." He said softly, and she swallowed hard, keeping an indifferent, satisfied face, looking at him from under half-closed eyelids. She sat down opposite him in one of the chairs, spreading out comfortably in her seat, sighing quietly and nodded for him to speak.

"We will have guests of honour. Prince Aemond and his wife will be arriving here within two days to spend the night here and then head off the next morning to meet Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon." He said calmly, putting a few pieces of cake from the tray onto his plate, with a hand gesture he encouraged her to eat as well, but she shook her head, analysing his words quickly.

She had heard of them.

Prince Aemond had married and taken his niece's maidenhood on the same night he chose Maris Baratheon as his wife.

His brother the King, to save the situation, married them in the eyes of the Seven before an enraged Borros Baratheon could arrive in King's Landing demanding justice.

There would not have been all the commotion if Prince Aemond had taken her as his second wife, but he clearly only wished to have one, therefore, Maris was sent away with only a dowry and humiliation.

Her half-brother continued, seeing the lack of response on her part.

"I want you to host them well. Both of them, if you understand what I have in mind. Myself and his grandfather do not believe in the success of their mission. Like most of the kingdom we know how it will end: with a war. A war we wish to win. However, our Prince, if I may say so, does not think with his mind now, but rather with what he has between his thighs. He gives in to his wife and her persuasions to bring about a reconciliation. I know you are well acquainted with human nature and will surely win both her trust and his heart."

She chuckled under her breath, shaking her head in disbelief as she looked at her fingers, trying to hide the horror and squeeze in her stomach she felt.

He wanted to expose her, to put her head under the Prince's sword if it turned out that her attempts would only enrage him, and he could wash his hands of everything.

"In any case, in a few days' time the matter of the succession will resolve itself with the help of my birds in the Eyrie. They know what to do. Of course, I'll let our Prince believe that his decision matters, however, everything is already arranged. I hope this should settle the matter. With the help of the gods, the girl might try to take her own life for the second time. Let us raise our cups for that." He said lightly, as if indeed such a course of events would please him the most; she looked at him in disbelief, thinking that she had not even noticed when he had become such a disgusting creature.

A monster that, like a black, empty hole, was consuming everything around him, destroying it and crushing it.

She wasn't in a position to refuse, and he knew it.

That was why she walked out with him to greet their guests, thinking she would simply do what he ordered her to do.

She blinked as the figure of a petite, pretty girl jumped down from the shimmering blue and silver dragon, her long, dark hair of a shade similar to hers tied into a braid, its unruly strands dishevelled by the long journey through the skies.

She stepped out in front of them, breathing heavily, her eyes big, full of curiosity and uncertainty, her gaze warm, kind, her cheeks all flushed from exertion. She stopped in front of them and forced herself into an innocent, almost childlike smile, from which she felt a squeeze in her gut.

Gods, have mercy.

"Your Grace. What a joy." Said her brother. The girl blinked, not knowing for a moment what to answer, shifting from foot to foot.

"My Lord Strong. Thank you for being willing to host us." She muttered at last, clearly tense − her was voice pleasant, melodious, soft, the kind that gives comfort with ease, brings peace of mind.

They all turned their faces towards the approaching figure as they heard his footsteps; Prince Aemond in his long black leather coat and black eye patch indeed looked like someone menacing, commanding, as powerful as the great dragon he was riding.

What immediately caught her attention was that as his gaze traveled over their faces he stopped at his wife, assessing her figure from afar as if quickly examining whether she had suffered any damage after such a long journey and whether she was well.

He must have evidently concluded that she was, for his gaze turned after a moment towards her brother.

"Lord Strong. Take us to our quarters."

The Prince and her brother moved first, followed by his wife, looking around the interior of their fortress with genuine curiosity, not even listening to what her brother was saying.

She didn't even notice that her uncle was glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, checking that she was near and in no danger.

She thought he would sooner stab her in the heart than take her to his bed.

Her brother opened the door of the chamber that had been prepared for him, the largest in the entire fortress, not coincidentally located close to hers. The Prince, however, did not look impressed; his lips pressed into a thin line in disapproval when he heard that Lord Strong had assigned his wife other quarters.

"No need. My wife will spend the night in my chamber." He said coolly, as if the very suggestion was offensive and insulting to him.

He had kept her with him the whole time, she thought in disbelief, glancing out of the corner of her eye at the girl standing next to her.

She stood, gazing at her uncle as if she were looking at a statue of one of the gods; her bright, shining eyes large and filled with affection, devotion, longing, even though, after all, he was standing in front of her, at her fingertips.

She realised, swallowing quietly, that he had not taken her by force the night he married her or any night after.

How long had they looked at each other like this?

"As you wish, my Prince. However, I will leave the rooms I spoke of at your wife's disposal for her own convenience. I have also assigned her a servant to ensure that while we men are conversing, she will have company. There are several matters I would like to discuss with you." Her brother replied.

Prince Aemond then looked at his niece with a gaze as if he was about to explode − his wife pressed her lips into a thin line, immediately understanding what the expression on his face was meant to convey to her, her look of understanding and sigh was meant to add to his patience.

His gaze softened and after a moment he nodded, letting her go.

The girl looked at her, so she smiled quickly and pointed with her hand the way they should go to her quarters. Before moving behind her she looked at her husband, the Prince leading her away with a cold, sharp gaze.

Overwhelmed by this revelation, no longer knowing herself what she thought of it or what she should do in such a situation, she simply followed her into the room, closing the door behind her. She watched quietly as the prince's wife walked to the window, placing her hand on the glass, and smiled slightly, noticing something outside.

Had she been like this all the time?

"Do you desire to change into something…more comfortable, Your Grace?" She asked finally, recognising that she needed to start any light conversation, to try and understand who was standing in front of her.

The girl shuddered and blinked, as if forgetting her presence for a moment, turning to face her. She nodded, forcing herself to smile, unsure and embarrassed, playing with the fingers of her hands in a nervous reflex.

"Yes. What do they call you?" She asked lightly and kindly, willingly shortening the distance between them, which surprised her.

Usually women of her ilk took satisfaction in calling her Lady Rivers, reminding her every time that she was a bastard.

But she, even if she was married to the Prince, was also one.

She was her relative, her brother's daughter.

She swallowed hard at that thought, feeling a squeeze in her throat.

"Alys, Your Grace."

She lowered her gaze, as if pondering something for a moment, and then her bright eyes looked at her again.

She thought with pain that she was like a small flower, a daisy or a forget-me-not, which one picked to weave into one's hair, to feel as innocent as a little child again.

"I would not wish to… misunderstand who you are and what you have in common with Lord Strong, Alys." She muttered with some sort of embarrassment, from which she involuntarily burst out laughing.

Good gods.

"I am not his mistress. I am his relative, though I do not bear his name, as any bastard would." She said softly, amused; her gaze shifted, her brow furrowed in concern and curiosity.

She knew what she was going to ask her, she could feel it in her bones.

"Did you know my father?"

She named him as her father even though she was officially Laenor Velaryon's daughter.

She admitted to her that she too was a bastard without a grimace of embarrassment.

"Yes, Princess."

Her whole body tensed, her hands clenched into fists.

"His death wasn't an unfortunate ordeal, was it?" She asked in a trembling voice, and her lips involuntarily lifted in a dangerous smirk at the thought that her directness was surprising her.

Was this how she spoke to her husband?

Was this how she forced her way into his heart?

"There are no such thing as unfortunate ordeals, Your Grace."

A silence fell between them filled with the weight of their words and what they meant; she licked her lips involuntarily, feeling that she was incapable of denying herself the pleasure of having to see her reaction to her words.

To see if she was right.

"After the word has reached us here all the way from King's Landing, I have been looking forward to our meeting with impatience, and while I will admit that it is not what I expected, I am beginning to understand your husband's desperation." She said with amusement, feeling a tingle in her fingertips and in her lower abdomen at the sight of her flushed cheeks.

"What do you mean?" She mumbled quietly, embarrassed; however, it was not shame feigned and exalted, but more an expression of genuine surprise and excitement at her words.

"Men are easily driven to desperation, though it usually takes time. They like to gain and take pride in what they have conquered; the greater, in their mind, the value of what they enclose in their embrace, the less they are willing to let it go." She said calmly, turning her head away, immersed in her own thoughts.

"Your husband follows you with his thoughts even when he is not looking at you. His head, even when he is not speaking to you, is directed towards you so that he can see you out of the corner of his eye. When he feels discomfort, he involuntarily seeks your face to experience understanding and comfort."

She looked at her, wanting to see her reaction, and sighed almost imperceptibly, feeling heat in her lower abdomen at the sight of her parted, plump lips, her dreamy, hot gaze.

She knew that she had felt something at her words, that it had taken deep root in her heart and made her return with her thoughts to her husband.

Was this how she had looked at him when he made love to her?

She could not imagine that he could take her maidenhood brutally and cruelly, that he would allow her to cry beneath him in pain.

No, she thought − he surely took her with slow, lazy thrusts of his hips, letting her get used to his shape deep inside her, assuring her in a whisper that just a little more.

She felt a strong throbbing and tickling between her thighs at that thought and licked her lips, looking up at her again − her gaze lowered meekly to the stone floor, a soft, thoughtful smile on her face.

She decided on second thought, helping her change into one of her gowns, touching her soft skin, smelling the wonderful scent of vanilla in her nostrils, that she would braid the most elaborate hairstyle she could think of on her head, just so she wouldn't have to leave her chamber before supper.

She knew that her half-brother expected her to then take the opportunity to venture into the Prince's chambers to make sure he was not missing anything.

Therefore, she began to braid her soft, long, dark hair, creating a beautiful, complicated hairstyle surrounding her head.

She escorted her to the proper quarters and bowed, Larys gave her one impatient look.

She felt a cold sweat on her back, leaving immediately.

He was not pleased.

She thanked the gods that the Prince's wife had summoned her herself, wishing her help with her bath, giving her another reason not to head to her husband's chambers.

She thought that if she went on like this perhaps the situation would work out in such a way that she simply wouldn't have the opportunity to do anything, though even if she did she wasn't sure Larys would believe her.

As she walked into her chamber she saw that she herself was trying to untie her bodice, so she approached her, undoing the tangles with ease, looking at her face with curiosity.

"Was the Prince pleased with his wife's appearance, Your Grace?" She asked softly, noticing from the corner of her eye that the girl had lowered her gaze, ashamed and saddened.

"Yes. Though he expressed his opinion that he prefers it when my hair is loose." She said with resignation, and she couldn't stop the smile that appeared on her face.

Of course, she thought.

The sight of her loose hair reminded him fondly of how it had been spread in disarray around her head, shining in the darkness of his chamber as he fucked her greedily.

"Oh, that's understandable. He surely associates it with your intimacy and closeness, as any man would. The entwined curls and braids are for those around you, meanwhile the softness of your hair, the smell of them, the sight of them spread on the bed is something meant only for him." She replied lightly, for some reason wanting to lift her spirits and comfort her; she heard her move in place, the sweet blush appearing on her cheeks again.

She was embarrassed, she thought with disbelief and tenderness, as if she were looking at a small child.

She was so innocent.

Was that what attracted him to her?

The idea that he was surrounding her with himself like a dark cloak, devouring her again and again?

"You know a lot about men…don't you?" She heard her uncertain, curious voice; she looked at her in the reflection of the mirror, noticing that she immediately lowered her gaze, as if she could not bear the intensity with which she was looking at her.

"Yes, Princess."

"Have you seduced many yet?" She asked intrigued, and she smiled again involuntarily.

"Yes."

When her gown finally fell to the floor she saw her girlish, pleasing curves peeking through from under her nightgown. She watched as, with a light, confident step, she walked over to the bath and bore herself into the hot water, tilting her head back, sighing in relief, her head still adorned with the braids she had woven herself.

Such a pretty little thing.

"I would like to … make my husband happy tonight. I know he needs relief from what's about to happen tomorrow. However, I can't do it, at least for now, in the way I usually do." She mumbled out at last, looking at her with those big, warm eyes of hers, seeing in her apparently her guide, someone who could help her with these complicated and intimate matters.

She felt a pleasant squeeze in her lower abdomen at the idea that popped into her head.

"The easiest thing to do in that case would be for you to use your mouth." She replied amused, drawing out of her exactly the reaction she wanted − her cheeks turned scarlet, her gaze fled downwards, her tiny long fingers clenched into small fists.

She was wonderfully embarrassed, so sweet that he would have gladly shown her everything, step by step.

"I'm…inexperienced in these matters." She confessed with shame, and she involuntarily licked her lower lip with her tongue, feeling the throbbing between her thighs at her words, her nipples hardening under the material of her gown.

Gods.

"I see." She muttered, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad as she moved slowly towards her, her surprised gaze lifting to her as she knelt right next to her tub, cupping her wrist in her hand.

Her skin was as soft as silk.

Her gaze escaped involuntarily to her breasts, now perfectly visible through the wet material of her shirt clinging to her bare flesh; she felt a tickle in her swollen lips at the thought that she longed to lick and caress them.

She was sure that as he teased and sucked her nipples she moaned sweetly beneath him, begging for more, and he always, always gave in to her.

Because how could he refuse her?

"I can show you how you should do it, if that's what you wish, Your Grace."

She saw her pupils dilate in disbelief, her lips parted as she swallowed hard, her chest beginning to rise and fall in accelerated breaths.

"…How?"

She couldn't stop the smirk that appeared on her lips, nor what she did next.

She heard her sigh quietly, surprised and thrilled when her lips ran over her pointing finger, enveloping her skin with her hot breath.

"Imagine that this is his manhood. Men don't say it out loud because pride won't let them, but they adore it when a woman shows them with gentle, tender caresses." She whispered, running her swollen lips up and down her finger leaving a sticky, warm trail of her saliva on it, surprised at how wet it made her between her thighs, how wonderfully arousing it was, how obscene it was.

She heard her draw in a deep breath without moving away, but as she guided the tip of her finger between her lips, teasing and licking it lightly with her tongue, out of the corner of her eye she noticed that her thighs clenched in some helpless, subconscious reflex.

What other reactions could she draw from her?

"− and then − when he begins breathing faster − when you feel he's completely ready −" She sighed quietly as she suddenly slipped her whole finger deep into her mouth, feeling her swollen folds pulsate hard again and again as she began to suck it in slow, steady movements with the quiet click of her saliva.

She heard her gasp on the verge of a moan as her tongue began to trail over her skin with her low murmur of satisfaction, her free hand involuntarily sliding down to the material of her gown, wanting to slip under it and bring herself to fulfilment with her own touch.

She slipped her finger out of her mouth with a loud plop and looked up at her − her face all flushed, her gaze dreamy, hesitant and warm, as if she herself didn't know what she felt or why.

Something in her gaze made a pleasurable heat spill over her lower abdomen as she dug her own fingers into her fleshy folds, all sticky with her moisture, pulsing aggressively with her every stroke in pleasure.

"− you pretty little thing − it’s usually him taking care of you, isn’t it? − he can’t deny himself − I can’t blame him −" She whispered, trying not to move her hips so that she wouldn't notice anything; she lost the battle with herself as she felt herself getting closer and closer to fulfilment, pushing against her own slit with the tips of her fingers.

Unfortunately, it turned out that her husband was more vigilant than she thought.

When he burst into his wife's chamber she barely had time to remove her hand from under her own skirt and let go of her, standing quickly and bowing before him.

"My Prince."

"− get out −" He growled, and she walked out obediently, grateful in spirit to the gods that he hadn't stopped her to question her, that he hadn't noticed the glistening wetness on her fingers.

Or he saw it and it infuriated him, she thought with amusement, feeling her heart pounding like a mad in her chest.

She finished what she had started in her chamber, bringing herself to fulfilment with sure, swift strokes of her fingers, driving their tips into her sensitive, fleshy womanhood, able now to afford to moan and rock her hips, imagining her body peeking through from under her wet nightgown.

She imagined that she knelt before him to lunge and soothe him, that she barely fit his fat cock in her small mouth, all swollen from the desire she had always aroused in him, that this proud, dark, cold man whimpered before her like a small, innocent boy when he finally gave in, thrusting again and again deep into her warm throat.

She came with a low moan of relief, panting heavily, hugging her face into the pillow, rocking her hips for a while longer, slowly coming down from her peak.

She was sure that as she lay half asleep, feeling a blissful, pleasant peace, she heard their moans in the distance and grinned involuntarily.

Of course he forgave her.

He always did.

She often had dreams whose meaning she did not understand; she saw people she had never met before, observing events that might as well have happened in the future or in the past. That night, however, her dream particularly troubled and worried her, as she had no idea what it actually meant.

Two streams of blood finally merging into one, flowing like a river, which then, however, became a lake that reminded her of a dragon's head in a crown, only to spill over after a while, and she saw nothing but red.

Was this what was about to happen?

Would Princess Rheanyra and Prince Daemon be murdered and another dragon's reign begin upon their blood?

She swallowed hard, thinking of that young, cheerful girl, of how obvious it was that she was not aware of anything, that whatever her uncle-husband knew, he had not shared it with her.

She thought that if he betrayed her, she would wilt like a flower, fade like the sun in a setting sky.

She stood up and headed for his chamber.

His gaze expressed nothing less than disgust and rage at the sight of her. He reached for his tunic, dressing it hurriedly, tense and pale, knowing full well what was to happen if the negotiations did not bring the results he hoped for.

She wondered if he realised that even if he didn't give the order, they would be murdered anyway.

"You will betray her." She said indifferently, and he threw her a quick, horrified look, his nostrils quivering in disbelief.

He knew perfectly well what she was referring to.

She thought that sometimes all it took was a gentle push, putting a mirror in front of someone's face to make them think carefully again about whether they were ready for the consequences of their choices.

"You will betray her at the moment she trusts you the most. You will break her. You will achieve victory, but she will never let you touch herself again. You will come back here to face your nephew and you will take me, because you will decide that I am similar to her enough to satisfy your pain and longing. You will put your child inside me, your bastard son, who will rule Harrenhal after our death."

She said and grinned, seeing that he shuddered all over, that his mask had cracked, his lips parted as if he wanted to groan in despair.

She knew he saw it in his mind, felt it in his heart, and she left his chamber without a word.

She let out a loud breath as she walked down the empty corridor, thinking with some kind of hope that her words, the vision she had invented to break him would terrify him enough to make him fall to his knees before his wife and confess everything he knew.

And if he doesn't, if in fact he betrays her, it will prove that he was never worthy of her.

She had come to her summons when she wished to clothe herself; she saw, crossing the threshold of her quarters, that she too was frightened and anxious, only for completely different reasons.

She wished for them to come to an understanding.

She believed it was possible.

She felt a squeeze in her throat at the thought, at the realisation that she was alone in a world where everyone but her craved war, craved power, craved the throne.

She did not look at her face, at the clear command of her husband not allowing herself any closer proximity to her, which she accepted with understanding.

After she had fastened the buckles of her leather coat, however, she allowed herself to take her soft hand in her own, stroking it with her thumb.

She hesitated and furrowed her brow, but before she could move away, she began to speak, forcing herself to whisper, fearing that her brother's servants might have heard her.

"Do not return here. Fly from the Eyrie straight to King's Landing. I saw in my dream a river of blood taking the shape of a dragon's head wearing a crown. I saw red flooding everything around me." She said quickly, feeling a squeeze in her throat.

She thought in disbelief that she pitied this girl.

"This warning, these words, are my gift to you. Look after yourself. Trust no one."

[punkshort]

look what we've become - ch.3

Chapter Summary: Joel joins Tommy to meet the Fireflies and set up a trade agreement. They come back to Jackson with more than they expected.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, mentions of slavery

WC: 5.4K

Series masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: a reminder this story follows a slightly different timeline. Ellie was born pre-outbreak, but she was little when it happened.

Joel couldn't believe the past day and a half really happened. The rollercoaster of emotions you put him through left him stunned and shaken, wondering how he could read everything so fucking wrong. He found himself questioning everything now, replaying conversations, wondering if you had ever alluded to your feelings about marriage and a family that maybe he misread, misconstrued. Twisted and built up in his mind to fit into his stupid fantasy. One, he acknowledged, wasn't even in the forefront of his mind until his brother brought it back up to the surface. And suddenly, he wanted it, too. Like some resentful child who saw another playing with a toy he hadn't paid attention to in months, then demanded it for himself.

But he had thought about it, well before Tommy decided to man up first. He had the ring, but he never did anything with it. Why? Deep down, had he known you wouldn't want that? Was he subconsciously protecting himself by never acting on it? Or was he truly just waiting for the right time?

Even with Tommy's news, he still hadn't come up with a plan to actually ask you to marry him. He just allowed the fantasy to play out between your legs while he continued to make up excuses as to why he was holding off. Maybe it just turned him on to have a secret. Maybe he just wanted to have you, mark you, claim you. He knew he had a bad jealous streak, but would he have let his possessiveness lead him this far off track?

No. There were real reasons why he wanted you to be his wife. You made him want to be a better man. The way you made him feel was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. You brought out sides of him that others, including himself, never knew existed. Good things. You made him believe in happiness again, after his heart had been stomped on, making him treat everyone around him so poorly, even his own family. At a time when he felt so undeserving, you made him feel like the only person in the world. Even back then, he had a hard time believing you could actually care for him, but you saw through his bullshit to the man he was underneath, and you loved him for being him.

You had this way of looking at him like he was capable of anything. And with you by his side, he felt like he really was capable of anything. He did things he never thought possible to keep you both safe, as did you. You killed for each other. Not many people can say that. That meant something. The trauma and pain you both endured for one another had to mean something more. There was no doubt you both had proven what you were willing to do for the other, so it was only natural he wanted to commit himself to you. Say the words, vow to you in front of everyone you knew and loved that he would happily devote himself to you for the rest of his life.

So why didn't you want the same?

Ages ago, when the pair of you stumbled into the hellscape that was Kansas City, his ex, Amy, had mentioned offhandedly that you were only with him for protection. At the time, he shrugged it off, knowing full well it was bullshit just to get under his skin. But now, against his better judgement, he was rethinking those words. Rolling them around in his head, wondering if there was any truth to it.

"You been real quiet," Tommy said, pulling Joel out of his misery, surprised to suddenly find his brother next to him as they made their way on horseback down the mountains. Joel shrugged, averting his gaze ahead to the three other men leading the way.

"You mad at me for puttin' you on patrol yesterday? I'm sorry, Carl got sick and I didn't have anyone else," Tommy continued.

"Nah, it's not that," Joel replied, still staring straight ahead. "Didn't sleep well, is all."

"Ah," Tommy said, a playful smile pulling across his lips. "She send you off with somethin' to remember her by?"

Joel huffed and rolled his shoulders, his anger bubbling below the surface as he thought once again about the night before.

"Not exactly," Joel responded, trying to keep the bitterness from his voice.

Tommy hummed in response but remained quiet, trying to read his brother from the corner of his eye.

"Everythin' alright at home?" he asked, unknowingly hitting the nail on the head, causing Joel to clench the muscles in his stomach, like he was bracing for a punch to the gut.

"It's fine. What's the plan for when we get to this place?" Joel asked, quickly sidestepping the subject, something that was certainly not lost on his younger brother, but Tommy allowed for the change in conversation, anyway.

"We're gonna meet up with their leader, woman named Marlene. They're lookin' mostly for weapons, but they need other stuff, too. They got lots of medicine and first aid to swap. Bill's been runnin' real low on antibiotics, considerin' how fast the town is growin'," Tommy said with a sigh, readjusting in his saddle. "Girls sent me with a list of inventory, highlighted all the stuff we have a surplus of and all the stuff we could use more of. Remind me to thank her for helpin' when we get home," he said, keeping a close eye on Joel's reaction when he referred to you.

"Sure," was all Joel said in response, refusing to let him drudge up the topic. The wound was still too fresh, and he needed time. For the first time in a long time, he had no idea what was going through your head, and it scared the shit out of him.

Was it marriage and kids in general you didn't want, or was it marriage and kids with him?

He should have asked. He should have stayed instead of storming out that night. Instead, he let his emotions get the better of him and left you all alone, likely crying until you fell asleep if your swollen eyes the next morning was any indication. When he saw you, saw the distress etched in your perfect features, he wanted to pull you into his arms and never leave for this fucking trip. And he damn near did just that, until you confirmed it was a false alarm, and his heart was torn all over again. It was then he realized he had been hoping you were pregnant with his child, and there would be no choice but to face the next challenge together. Then he would be able to prove to you that it was a good thing, that you could, in fact, do it. And so could he.

Now, instead, he wasn't even sure where you two stood. You had said you still wanted him before he left, and that gave him hope. Hope that maybe not all was lost, that you could repair the damage that was done and come out stronger in the end for it. That maybe he could, in time, prove to you that he would be a good husband, a good father.

But then, Amy's words crept up in the back of his mind since he left. Somehow, years and years later, the woman still managed to torment him, making him believe he wasn't worthy or good enough to possibly have someone like you. The same way she manipulated him into thinking he deserved to be betrayed by her when they were engaged, that he didn't give enough of himself, that she warned him she needed more and he refused.

He shouldn't have gone on this trip.

"Alright, we're losin' daylight, let's set up camp and get an early start tomorrow," Tommy announced, much to Joel's relief. He didn't want to admit that, just a mere few weeks away from his fortieth birthday, his back and knees were aching like he was a much older man. He slid down from his saddle with an audible groan, then tied his reins around a tree trunk before giving his mare a few loving pats along the crooked white blaze that split her face.

He unbuckled his sleeping bag from the saddle and shouldered his backpack, dropping his belongings unceremoniously to the ground before he and Jake headed out with a couple hatchets to collect some firewood.

He didn't mind Jake so much anymore. He was quiet, kept to himself and, fortunately, didn't seem to harbor any resentment towards him from the time Joel put him in the infirmary for kissing you. His bad temper mixed with his jealousy nearly killed the man.

Afterwards, he thought he lost you.

You left him, asking for time to process what happened, upset that he didn't take your word for it when you promised him the kiss was a misunderstanding, that you handled it. You viewed it as distrust, he viewed it as protection. It wasn't until later that he realized he was harboring his own trauma from failing to protect you from a past sexual assault.

As he carried an armful of firewood back, he reflected on everything you had been through together. The outbreak, your parents, the time you were stabbed, the assault, the breakup, the accident that nearly killed him. Not to mention all the infected and raiders that threatened you both at every turn. Was your relationship strong enough to endure one more massive hurdle?

They were deep in the woods, the terrain favorable. The trees hid the fire well, and the vast, empty land kept infected away. Still, each man took a quick turn overnight to keep watch. It hardly mattered when Eugene gently shook his shoulder, alerting him it was his turn to watch. He can never sleep well when he's away from you, anyway.

Joel was almost grateful when they reached the hospital late in the afternoon the next day. It was the first time in two days he was able to stop thinking about you, his mind swirling with images of your trembling lip and your tear stained cheeks. He frequently wondered what you were doing, if you told Maria or Carrie about your argument. Were you packing up your things? Would he come home to an empty house? He wasn't sure his heart could handle it again.

You said you still wanted him.

You said you loved him.

But he didn't say those things back, and he left.

Even if you were fighting, even if it was the most significant disagreement you've ever had, he still wanted you near. He could never silence that driving force inside him since the outbreak that screamed keep her safe.

When they approached the hospital, they were all searched, weapons confiscated, as expected, before being ushered inside to meet the leader of the strange group called the Fireflies.

Marlene was a taller woman, with a firm jaw and eyes that could look right through you. He could tell right away she was not to be trifled with, that she took her role seriously in this little revolution she was spearheading. Although the people they had met since arriving seemed very intense, he didn't feel threatened. And he usually had a good instinct for those things. Usually.

They were in the hospital cafeteria, the five men, Marlene, plus a few others seated around a large, circular table as Tommy and Marlene exchanged pleasantries, both parties trying to make the other more comfortable. Joel hadn't really been listening. He was scanning the room, watching the guards pace by the doors regularly, the sentries standing watch with their hands resting on their rifles as they watched the exchange from a distance.

A small group of women entered from the door behind him, heading towards the kitchen to begin food preparations. Joel's eyes glanced over the group of four, three middle aged looking women who kept their eyes pinned to the ground, and a young girl with brown hair, tied back away from her face. She didn't look to be a day over thirteen, and she was the only one who looked around the room, her eyes locking with Joel's. He stared at her, his brow slightly furrowed as he tried to assess the situation. She continued to hold his gaze as she followed the other women, and although her body language gave nothing away, Joel felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Something seemed off.

"Isn't that right, Joel?" Tommy was saying, snapping his attention away from the girl, who he saw in his peripheral disappear behind a door into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry?" he replied, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together on top of the table, trying to look focused.

"I was just sayin' how we know of a few police stations in some small towns that have barely been touched. Wouldn't be much effort for us to get a group together when we get home and go ransack 'em, take just a few days to hit 'em all," Tommy said, his eyes flicking from Joel to Marlene, then back again.

Another trip. More days away from you.

"Yeah," Joel replied, nodding his head and ignoring the pit in his stomach. "It's not enough for an army, but I reckon any little bit helps."

"In the meantime, lemme show you our inventory list. See if anything jumps out at you, and we can work on gettin' those guns," said Tommy as he pulled the list out of his coat pocket and smoothing it out on the table.

Marlene reviewed the list, her dark eyes flicking over the paper quickly with a few hums here and there as she took notes.

"Looks good, but we mostly need weapons," she said, leaning back in her chair. "I could probably do with some fresh vegetables, I think everyone's getting sick of the canned shit. And shampoo. But that hardly is a match for antibiotics." Her eyes shifted back and forth between Joel and Tommy, and the corner of her mouth turned up as an idea hit her.

"I do have another offer, though," she said, leaning forward. "It's not what we discussed, but if you're willing, I could send you home with half a box of penicillin now, and the other half after."

"After... what?" Tommy asked a little hesitantly.

"I'm lacking manpower at the moment. My guys are stretched thin, we're planning a hit on the soldiers at the Boise QZ. I need you to take someone to the hospital base we have in Salt Lake City. It should only take two days to get there, and I just need you to make sure she gets there alive," Marlene said, pressing her pointer finger into the table on the last word for emphasis.

Tommy glanced at the other four men, clearly not expecting to run errands for these people in exchange for medicine. Joel could see the wheels turning in his brother's head before Tommy spoke.

"Show me the meds first," he said to Marlene, and she quickly lifted two fingers up from the table, blindly addressing someone behind her to exit and do as he asked.

"What's the catch?" Joel asked, his defenses going up.

"No catch. Just need to get her out of here and with my other group, and I don't have the time to do it myself," she said with a shrug, but Joel knew better. She was trying to act casual, but he saw her knee bouncing under the table.

He shouldn't have come on his trip.

Once Tommy laid eyes on the unopened vials of medicine, medicine Jackson could really use since Bill, the town doctor, had been rationing enough as it is, Joel knew his decision was made.

"Done," Tommy said with a nod, extending his arm to shake Marlene's hand, which she eagerly reached out to do.

"Tommy," Joel said quietly, annoyed his brother didn't run the decision by the group first.

"Give me a little bit. I'll go talk to her so you can hit the road right away. John, please give these gentleman half the box of penicillin," Marlene said as she pushed her chair back, the legs making an awful screech against the dirty, linoleum floor. "Dinner is about to be served, please help yourselves as my guests," she added over her shoulder, leaving the dining hall.

"Tommy," Joel tried again, finally pulling his brother's attention. "A word?"

He led Tommy a ways away from the table so their conversation couldn't be overheard.

"What're you thinkin'?" Joel asked him, hands on his hips. "We don't do things like this."

"I know, Joel, but we're already out here, what's the harm? It's just a few more days," he said.

"I can't do a few more days, I need to get home," Joel replied, raking his fingers through his hair anxiously.

"I'll send Jesse and Jake back to let the girls know we'll be a little longer-"

"Goddamnit, Tommy, no!" Joel said, louder than he anticipated, a few heads from the table turning to glance his way.

"Jackson needs this medicine, what the hell's gotten into you?" Tommy asked with a frown, shifting his weight as he tried to read his brother's face.

Before he could reply, Marlene reentered the room alone, motioning for the two brothers to join her back at the table.

"Ellie's working in the kitchen, once dinner is over I'll send her to change and gather her things," Marlene said.

"Not a problem," said Tommy as he sat back down.

"Is that true?" Marlene asked, her lips pressed in a thin line as she held Joel's gaze, waiting for him to answer. He took a deep breath through his nose and crossed his arms.

"Yeah, not a problem," Joel replied bitterly.

Joel ate his meal quickly, desperate to finish this ridiculous task so he could get home. The longer he was away from you, the stronger his paranoia became. With each passing hour, he could almost feel the chasm between you growing, and he was beginning to convince himself there was no repairing the damage that was done. On both sides. Communication had never been his strong suit, but he thought he was getting better at it the past few years. Why did he go on this trip?

His eyes flicked up from his empty plate to see Marlene heading their way with the young girl he saw earlier in tow. His anger flared deep in his belly again, and he elbowed Tommy in the ribs to mutter angrily "she didn't mention it was a fuckin' kid" before Marlene could overhear.

"Ellie, these are the men I told you about. They're going to take you to Salt Lake City like we discussed," Marlene said, her hand resting on the girl's back. Joel eyed her carefully, noticing how tense her shoulders looked as she regarded the five men in front of her. His eyes drifted back to Marlene, wondering why on earth she was willing to leave this young girl with five strange men without a second thought. He decided she either was very desperate, or didn't care much for the girl.

Ellie readjusted her backpack on her shoulders and yanked on the edges of her long sleeved shirt, squaring her jaw as she stared them all down. Marlene crouched down to the girl's level and rested her hands on her shoulders.

"Remember what I told you. Listen to them, and everything will be fine," Marlene said, narrowing her eyes at Ellie. Ellie nodded, nostrils flaring before Marlene stood up to address Tommy.

"You need a map?"

"Nah, we got maps," Tommy said with a shake of his head. "This group know when we get there to give us the rest of the payment?"

"I'll radio the leader over there once you leave, let her know the deal," Marlene replied, stretching her arm out again to shake Tommy's hand.

"Alright, then," said Tommy, looking back down at Ellie and shooting her a small smile, trying to make her feel more comfortable. "You ready?"

"Yeah," she said, taking a deep breath and following Tommy out of the cafeteria.

They collected their weapons at the entrance before heading out, Ellie joining Tommy on the back of his horse. They didn't make it very far before the sun began to dip behind the trees and a quiet place was found to make camp for the night.

After getting a fire going, Tommy sat down in the dirt next to Joel, who had been leaning against a small oak tree, sipping from his flask and staring into the flames. The other three men were quietly playing a game of poker across from them, the occasional laugh or taunt floating in the air, while Ellie busied herself with a worn, paperback book further away from the rest.

"You wanna tell me what's goin' on yet?" Tommy asked, taking out his own flask.

"Nothin's goin' on," Joel replied gruffly, eyes trained on the fire.

"What's makin' you feel like you need to get home so bad?" he pressed. Joel felt that anger swelling inside him again, up his stomach and through his chest, and for a moment he wondered if Tommy knew. That maybe you told Maria and she let something slip.

"I told you, it's nothin'," he snarled, taking another sip from his flask and letting his eyes drift over to the girl. "Just wish I knew you were signin' me up to be a goddamn babysitter before comin' on this fuckin' trip."

"I can hear you, you know," Ellie said, her eyes never leaving the pages of her book.

"Good," Joel said, jutting his chin towards her, finally finding something to take his anger out on. "What's your deal, anyway?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she said, sitting upright and letting her book fall to her lap, a flash of stubbornness not unlike his own reflecting in her eyes.

"Try me," Joel argued, his jaw clenching. Ellie glared at him, silence falling over the camp as everyone waited for her to speak. She opened her mouth, then thought better of it, clamping it shut and casting her eyes down. Joel scoffed, not ready to let the topic go just yet. Angry that this child was keeping him from home, from you. Angry that his brother agreed to it, like a fool.

"C'mon now, let's hear it. What makes you so fuckin' special?"

"Joel," Tommy said under his breath, a warning, reminding him to watch his language, that she was just a kid.

"Why should I bother? You're all the same, anyway! No one ever listens to me, 'cause I'm just some kid, right? No one-" she cut herself off, stopping herself before she said too much.

"Who's all the same?" Tommy asked gently, trying to coax the information out of her. She shrugged and huffed, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly.

"The people Marlene hires. Dragging me all over the country like I'm... whatever," she said, stopping herself yet again.

"So this ain't the first time Marlene sent you off with a bunch of strange men?" Joel asked, the edge still in his tone but he could feel his resolve softening, somehow feeling bad for this little girl despite his own problems.

"No," was all she offered, glaring at Joel again.

"Are you in some sort of trouble, kid?" Eugene's voice asked from across the fire. The silence that followed was deafening, only the crackle from the fire filling the air. Ellie's eyes shot over to Eugene, looking him up and down, trying to keep up her steely resolve before giving up and turning her back on the group, announcing she was going to bed, and burying herself in the sleeping bag that was way too big for her.

Joel stared at the back of her head, trying to connect the dots with the context he had available to him, but he couldn't figure it out. Tommy shifted next to him, clearly lost in his own thoughts, as well. Wondering for the first time if he had gotten them all in over their heads.

The following morning, Tommy sent Jake and Jesse back home to let everyone know they were going to be a few days late. The three remaining men and Ellie packed up their supplies early, hitting the trail as soon as possible, ready to make a dent in the long road ahead. Eugene led the way, followed by Tommy, then Joel brought up the rear, his eyes burning holes in the back of Ellie's head as she clung to Tommy's denim jacket to keep her balance on the back of his horse.

Joel chewed the inside of his cheek, still feeling bitter, about everything. You, Tommy, Ellie. All of it. Since he couldn't get to you, and Tommy already got him in too deep, he chose to direct his energy towards Ellie when they took a break midday.

"Marlene send you with any food, or are you takin' that from us, too?" Joel asked, sitting down on a fallen tree trunk with a groan.

"I have food. And what else could I have possibly taken from you?" Ellie replied curtly, sitting further down the log as she opened her pack to fish out some granola bars.

"Time," Joel snapped. "And we don't even know why we're doin' it."

"Isn't Marlene paying you guys?" she replied with a huff. Tommy's eyes toggled back and forth between Joel and Ellie, becoming exasperated with the constant bickering.

"Can you just drop it, Joel?" Tommy asked. "Who cares? It's an easy gig, and we get meds out of it."

"Oh, she's giving you meds? Wow, she must be really desperate," Ellie chimed in.

"Alright, I've had enough," Joel said, standing up to tower over the girl. "Spit it out. What're we doin' here?"

"Fine, Joel," she said, stretching out each syllable before standing up, fists clenched at her sides. The way she said his name set his teeth on edge. "You wanna know how you're helping slavers move cargo? That the answer you're looking for?"

The three men froze, clearly not expecting that. Tommy stood up now, his head swiveling between Eugene and Joel as he processed the information just dropped on them.

"Wait-" Tommy said, stretching his arm out to Ellie, but she cut him off.

"Yeah, that's right. You still think this is a pain for you?" she snapped, glaring at Joel even though Tommy was the one who spoke.

"Stop!" Joel shouted, holding his hands up in the air as silence fell over the camp. He pointed his finger to Ellie.

"You. Explain. Now."

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose as he silently listened to Ellie tell her story. Her parents were dead. She was taken from her aunt and uncle's house at a young age, forced into slavery for the past few years: laundry, cooking, cleaning. Sometimes for twelve hours a day. Said she's been with the Fireflies a long time, that they keep moving her from base to base but she claimed she didn't know why. Joel had to wonder how much of what she was saying was the truth. There was no doubt something was happening at that hospital, but slaves? Something just didn't add up.

When she finished her story, she nervously glanced around at the men, waiting for one of them to say something. Tommy sighed and motioned to the woods.

"We need to talk about this. Privately," Tommy said, narrowing his eyes at Ellie. "You stay here."

"Fine. Not like I can make it on my own out there, anyway," she said with a snort. She picked up a stick from the ground and began drawing into the loose dirt at her feet.

"We're takin' her back, givin' back the meds, and goin' home," Joel said the moment they were out of earshot. Tommy shook his head.

"Joel-"

"This is enough, Tommy! This ain't our business. Any other option here puts the whole town at risk, puts Maria at risk, puts-" he stopped himself, biting his tongue before saying your name. He hadn't thought about you for the past half hour. A new record.

Tommy wasn't an idiot. He knew something was going on, but he couldn't focus on it, having a much bigger problem to sort out.

"She's a kid. We can't take her back, and we can't take her to Salt Lake City. It ain't right," said Tommy gently, hoping he would make his brother see through whatever was plaguing his mind and look at the bigger picture. Joel frowned and glared at the grass below his boots, clenching and unclenching his jaw as his mind struggled to wrap itself around the situation.

"Eugene?" Tommy said, turning to raise his eyebrows at the older, and suspiciously quiet, man. Eugene sighed, dropping his shoulders like he was carrying an enormous weight.

"I agree with Tommy," he said, and Joel spun on his heel, angrily pacing a few feet away to take some deep breaths.

"So, what? We take her to Jackson? We don't show people where we live for a fuckin' reason," Joel reminded them, his back still turned on the two men.

"We take her back, just a bit, til we can find where her aunt and uncle were livin', and we'll take her back home," Tommy said, the gears in his head turning as he formulated the plan on the spot. "In the meantime, we tell the Fireflies she ran off in the middle of the night. Maybe if we can get those guns to 'em, we can still keep the antibiotics."

Joel scoffed and shook his head, turning around to glare at his younger brother.

"This is stupid and risky. Lyin' to those people don't seem like a good move to me."

"Yeah, well, it's the only move we got, Joel. Otherwise, we're just as bad as them," said Tommy, his eyes drifting through the trees to make sure Ellie was still perched on the log where they left her. "I won't ask you to help take her back to her family."

"Damn right, you won't," Joel muttered, rolling his shoulders angrily. He stared off in the direction of Ellie, his jaw ticking off to the side with his hands on his hips, lost in thought.

He shouldn't have gone on this trip.

"Alright, is it settled, then? Can we hit the road, go back home?" Eugene asked, clearly tired of the bickering. Joel glared at the other two men before stomping back over to Ellie, who stood when she heard the men approaching, eyes flicking to each of their faces. Joel brushed past her to scoop up his bag from the ground and jumped back up on his horse with a grunt. At least he won't have to be away from you any longer. Not that he was sure what to even say, he just knew he needed to see you.

"C'mon, kid. We're takin' you to our town," Tommy said, motioning for her to grab her things and follow him to his horse.

"Really?" she asked excitedly, a small smile playing on her face for the first time.

"'Til we can get you back to your family, yeah," he replied, holding an arm out to help her scramble up the back of his horse.

Joel remained quiet the next day and a half, inwardly brooding about the potential blowback from taking this kid, which then morphed into nerves when he realized he was a few hours away from seeing you again.

When they arrived through the gates of Jackson, he didn't watch Ellie's eyes light up when she first saw the town, the people, the animals, kids her age playing. Maybe if he wasn't so focused on searching for your face in the small crowd that welcomed them back, then he would have seen how happy Ellie was. How, for maybe the first time in years, she felt a spark of hope. Maybe if he wasn't so focused on the ache in his chest when he didn't see you, it wouldn't have come as a surprise when Ellie snuck off the first chance she got, bobbing and weaving down the busy street, eager to see what the town had to offer.

Tag List @nana90azevedo @ninaminaromina @untamedheart81 @taz-97 @nastiasnow @amyispxnk @plz-be-solo - lmk if I missed anyone or if you want to be removed

[wonryllis]

04. can you afford her a McLaren?

PREVIEW. you always get what you want, spoiled with the love of everyone around you. and it's all innocent love, at least that's what everyone thinks. it comes with much surprise therefore, when heeseung makes a move on you. thirteen long years of being in the brother zone having made him utterly clueless that if he’s going to date you he has to pass through your actual brothers first. and he knows how scary they can be. especially since they are known to have a sister complex and he’s been the third scary one with them, numerous times before.

MEET THE CAST. insanely love struck BRAT TAMER lee heeseung with his SPOILED BRAT RICH GIRL reader.

WARNINGS. swearing is kind of mild, jealous heeseung yeah, jakehoon!, YN IS HELLA SPOILED behavior here!!! wealth and class differences!

PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

READ THE WRITTEN PART UNDER THE CUT! ( 2472 words. )

you stand alone behind the bleachers, fixing the ribbons in your hair, and dusting off the non existent creases from your ironed chanel set. time and again beomgyu’s words echo at the back of your mind, albeit like a little house fly buzzing into your ear, and running your patience thin.

what did he say again? not interested? huh, he got some nerves saying that to your face. it's a little funny how he is so ready to reject you for some other girl from his lit club? god that's so boring. so many guys dying to be in his place and he has the guts to outright say no⁠— when you, the princess of the campus wants him.

well not anymore. you got better standards than to run after a boy who's not grateful for what he is getting. eyeroll.

you recall his words in your mind, something along the lines of your brothers apparently forcing him to hang out with you, quoting that they were practically threatening him to act like he got something for you. well, if he thought you would be upset to find that out, then he was wrong.

you know you have always gotten what you want because your brothers always make sure of it, so it's not a surprise they were involved this time too. maybe you are just a tad bit disappointed cause it did not work this time.

but alas there is a line of men you can choose from and he is definitely not the best fish out in the sea.

the only thing bothering you though, is that he was the one to reject you and not the other way around; and as a matter of fact if this piece of information were to go around campus, you would lose your mind.

all those instances during your supposed dates with him where you felt the possibility of feelings being reciprocated, god you hate the you from there. when you think of it now, it looks so desperate and lowly to you, you feel ashamed to have run after a guy. especially, a guy who just saw you as his best friends’ little spoiled sister.

as you look down on the dirt smeared across your white heels from all the walking to get to this part of the bleachers, you swear by your strongest resolve: that you'd never ever chase after a guy anymore. lowly boytoys undeserving of your perfect self.

you do not think of who to blame or what to do after this. it really did not matter to you anymore, it was just over and done and you could not care to give anymore fucks about it.

a frown grimacing your face at the thought of walking through the same dirt filled path again.

“god what did i even see in him,” you mumble, carefully placing your heels on the ground, making your way out with dainty soft steps.

halfaway through, more like a couple steps out, you come across jake and riki bickering by the wall. whisper shouting things you can not make out the sound of, from the distance you stand at. hushed curses and nervous shuffling and shoving against each other until they spot you. eyes widening and arms halted mid-air and mid-fight as if you were the one person who was not supposed to see it all, at any cost.

the moment it settles upon them that you are walking right over to where they stand, they are immediately rushing to scurry away, stumbling upon their own two feet for the sake of god and falling over each other in animalistic screeches that annoy the hell outta your precious ears. mouth forming into a tight lipped awkward smile as you watch them push at each other in all that dirt and stand up after staggering like a duck numerous times.

it is irksome and displeasing to see them act like a bunch of unmannered pets yet you can not help but laugh out at how hilarious it is.

they chuckle nervously, jake scratching at the back of his head and riki clearing his throat, utterly clueless if they should make a joke out of it as you laugh or apologize for letting you see them get that unruly. probably the latter.

“jake, riki⁠—” “we are okay!” they yelp at the same time, turning to stare at each other when they realize they just cut you off. gulping, they pause for a second and holler out again,”are you sure—” “sorry you had to see that!” same words, same time, same intensity and yet again cutting you off. oh fucking god, let the ground swallow them whole.

unaware if they should apologize for cutting you off, they stand awkward, staring at their shoes, eyes hoevering over their dirty shoes to your dirty heels and then all over to your cutely scrunched face letting out little giggles.

they remain still hissing at each other while waiting for your giggles to seize. throwing in a giggle or two of their own so you do not notice the uneasiness on their face. and once you do stop, eyes perfectly glued to them in confusion, does their stress reach the peaks of mount everest.

“so what were you both doing here?” you ask, watching expectantly for a sensible answer.

“uh actually we— i mean i saw beom—”

before jake can speak any further, riki nudges his elbow into the other's waist and cuts him off, leaving the poor boy groaning.

“the cheesecake!” “cheesecake?”

“yeah you said you'd get me cheesecake if i’m there on time and met jake on my way and he asked me where i was going and i accidentally told him and he begged to come along too but i didn't really want him to tag so we were kinda fussing over that.” he explains in a breath,”yeah.” eyes unblinking as he waits for you to buy it.

“behind the bleachers?” the way your eyes narrow in on them, an unconvinced pout on your lips has them quivering in dread and panic. how are they supposed to explain that behind the bleachers was the perfect place to argue about, over something so irrelevant.

“well it's not everyday you get to go a vip exclusive cafe so i guess you both were really excited!”

or maybe not.

“yeah!” they shout in unison, relieved and finally able to breathe freely.

“well too bad, beomgyu kinda ruined my mood so i don't really feel like going anymore. next time i’ll invite you too jake!” oh. oh no.

and they fall into another dilemma, again, are they supposed to weep and curse beomgyu with you now or should they ignore it all and change the topic? should they leave you be and call your brothers or should they wait with you until one of them comes?

riki is the first to break the silence, already somewhat accustomed to your behaviours and what you might expect at a time like this.

“come on let's get you out this uh .. muddy place,” he mumbles, reaching forward and offering you his arm to hold onto while you walk in your heels. jake shifts uncomfortably in his place, disoriented and muddled over what he should be doing. sure there has been a few times he's met you so he, to a certain extent knows you and your ways, but it has always been with heeseung and heeseung has always known to treat you like a princess, worshipping the ground you walked on, not letting you feel uncomfortable or uneasy, even for a moment.

jake ponders for a second too long, and after much consideration holds out his palm to hold your other hand.

his eyes follow the way your clothes shine so pristine in comparison to the ground below, the stark contrast between the rough soil and pure ivory of your skirt and the diamonds studded at the front of your floral white heels. it does not take much for jake to realize just how different heeseung and you are, just how far apart you are.

in the delicate footings and the mud staining the gems on your shoes, jake comes to the sheer revelation of how uncanny it is for someone like you to ever take an interest in someone like heeseung. probably one in a billion times, it could be possible. and for heeseung to be that one in a billion times, there isn't much he could ever help with.

it's a sad realization, but there could only be so much one can do to overshadow the obvious differences to build love. after all it will ultimately all come down to feelings of the heart and not the material things heeseung could ever afford to do. and yet again there's only so much he could afford.

surely not an island. or a McLaren speedtail.

with little ‘watch out for the dirt’s here and there, the three of you are out in the field in no time.

as soon as you step foot on the clean grass of the sidelines, your hands slip away from both the guys and you walk ahead towards the front of the bleachers nonchalantly. taking a seat at one of the spots after you brush off the non existent dust.

“can you call seungie for me?” you ask, watching them hide away their phones in a startle as soon as you look over.

“actually let it be, i’ll just call him,” you mutter the moment their messages send. taking out your phone and dialling his contact while the two whisper to each other a feet away from you, trying to avoid any kind of eye contact.

within five minutes riki and jake both leave for their soccer practice.

and it takes heeseung a little over ten minutes after that to rush to the field. his frantic figure scanning the space to find you and as soon as his eyes fall on the bleachers he is making a run for it. out of breath and sweat dripping down the sides of his forehead when he halts before you.

almost knocked out by the ball in the middle, flying right into his head if not for his quick reflex of dodging it in time.

something about the way he seems to have rushed over, a look of panic etched over his pretty features, his tone one of worry as he asks you if you are okay and all of it just because you sounded a little bit upset over call makes you feel a twinge of fluffiness in a small corner inside of you. like a little flutter of butterfly wings grazing and tickling a chamber of your stomach that links straight to your heart.

you could have called yeonjun or soobin, knowing they would have dropped everything the moment you would have asked for them. but just something about the genuineness heeseung holds, something he does not have to, but something he does because he wants to, makes you crave to be comforted by him. strangely enough, for someone so spoiled who thinks of anyone less than them to be grateful to be looked at by them, lee heeseung holds a place in your heart that transcends your peculiar distaste and flawed view of class and wealth.

perhaps it is just the fact that you grew up together, hanging out over every break and occasions and special days for as long as you can remember. or perhaps it's because he is one of the few people besides your brothers who does not picture you as an ungrateful bitch(as some people like to call you behind your back) or perhaps you have grown a liking to him for he is there to take your side at every chance he gets.

or perhaps it's because he's lee heeseung, and you were just meant to let him into your world.

whatever the reason may be, you like to believe the kind of affection you have for him, is a tad bit different than what you hold for your brothers and it's also a tad bit different that what you used to hold for choi beomgyu.

the feeling you have for him, is special and in times like these it feels special to think that you are indeed, special to him too.

“tiny, are you okay?” heeseung asks periodically pausing between each word as he takes a seat beside you, the adrenaline pumping high through his veins.

“yeah, i am okay,” the smile you give him is as sincere as it could ever get, stretching wide across your face in a cute grin. you take one of his hands in yours, as always completely unaware of how his heart stops at your touch and place a strawberry candy onto his gym calloused palm. the one you got for beomgyu before he pissed you off. eyeroll.

“i got this for beomgyu but i think you should have it,” you say tracing a circle around the candy before looking into his eyes, cutting him off when you sense he is about to say something,”i want you to have it.”

“you— really— this is⁠—” heeseung struggles to speak, his insides going crazy over the situation. it has been a daily thing, you giving him candies every morning in the car while on the way to college. but it has never been one where you have given him something that was supposedly meant for someone else, someone else that you thought of in a romantic way. someone else that you thought of in a way that he wanted you think of with him in the picture.

to him, this was a small win.

“thank you, buns,” he smiles at you, finger reaching over to boop your nose, making you giggle.

“seungie, can we please go to that arcade you frequent? i really want to blow off some steam right now and i don't wanna take that out on you,” please take it out on me .. the puppy eyes you give him do little to distract him off the thought of you using him to feel better. oh man what wouldn't he give for that.

the look on your face almost making his heart and dick burst at the same time. how could he ever say no to that face? if you were to tell him to just put on a cock ring and deny himself of any oragasms with that look on your face, he'd say yes in a heartbeat ( leaving aside the fact that he'd probably lose control halfaway and pounce on you—) may god forgive him for thinking so unholy of a situation so innocent.

may, in time, yeonjun and soobin forgive him for thinking so unholy of their ever holy baby sister.

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[alexsoenomel]

Chokehold (Sam Winchester x Reader smut)

Request: Hey I don’t know if you’re taking requests but I was reading Adrenlize Me and I had an idea for a part 2? Sam and reader have been getting at it for a bit but this time they finally say “I love you” to each other? Rough smut with a little dash of fluff? 🥰

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: sexy times and I love you’s, mentions of addiction 

Word count: 2.1k

Note: I apologize for being so slow (school+work+ADHD). Writing this made me realize how single I actually am.

 Enjoy! Like/Reblog or both if you like it! :)

PART 1

Addiction. First, it feels like a warm hug, sucking you in, disguising itself as something familiar, something beautiful, and finally, you feel like you filled that hole in your soul. Then it starts taking, it takes and takes until there is nothing left to take, until you cannot give anymore – until you’re dead. You find out, a little too late, that the warm hug was just a one-way ticket to your inevitable demise.

This started as a deep-seated need but turned into a full-blown addiction sooner than I thought, but the only difference was this was a blissful one, with no reaper waiting for you at the end. It only brought endless pleasure. 

Sam was no better than me. We couldn’t stop ourselves; every touch, every kiss would send us into a euphoric state, and it was better than any drug known to man. 

After our little adventure in Dean’s beloved Baby, we tried to keep our dirty little secret hidden. Sam would come to my room only during the night when he could hear Dean snoring in his room, and even then, we had to be careful since Dean was a light sleeper. He would muffle my moans with his hand whenever he was on top of me, he would sometimes even let me bite his shoulder, but it was impossible to be quiet, especially when we both liked listening to each other come undone. Long story short, Dean found out.

“Good thing you two lovebirds finally got together! The bad thing is now I cannot sleep.” He told us one morning while sipping his black coffee, clearly tired and cranky. 

Lovebirds.

That word was stuck in my brain that day. It still would pop up occasionally. It reminded me that we never labeled our little arrangement. When it happened, we would carry on, pretend like this thing was meaningless, and then we would do it all over again. We would cover every topic under the Sun apart from this one. We completely ignored it, but it was there, just around the corner, something more than just a meaningless hookup. 

Sure, he was able to make my legs shake, make me forget my existence, and his touch would set me on fire every damn time, but the way he would look at me right before I would come, the way we would look at each other…  I knew I was falling for him. 

We were birds of a feather –we connected through art, books, and music. We liked the same things but were far different characters. I was more of a 'Shoot first, ask questions later' kind of girl, like his older brother, and he was far from that. He was my voice of reason when I would let my emotions consume me; he was the one who would tell Dean and me to get our shit together whenever we would jump the gun (and that would often happen because we were both hotheads). We worked perfectly together. 

***

"God, I'm exhausted!" I said and put my bag on the table. 

We just got back from a hunt in Omaha, Nebraska, and it was a wild one. It dragged to no end until we finally ganked the ghost that was killing unfaithful men. I almost got thrown off the balcony, Dean almost got stabbed, and Sam, well he took care of it. Overall, I was just happy the case was over and, that I could sleep in my/Sam's bed. 

"Me too! Gonna hit the hay!" Dean said taking his shoes off. 

"Already? It's only 10 pm." Sam said. On a rare occasion, Dean would sleep early, he was the worst night bird in the flock. For him, 2 am was too early for bed, and mornings started at noon. 

"Sammy, I almost got stabbed today! Yeah, already." Dean said and disappeared into the hallway. 

"Night, Dean!" I said. 

"Night, night!" I heard him say. 

I was immediately hit with the realization that I was alone with Sam. There was something so alluring about him that made me nervous in the best way possible. It would boost my dopamine and adrenaline – like a drug. I swallowed nervously as I turned to see he was staring back at me and I immediately recognized the look – the look of devotion. 

"What?" I asked. He looked tired, with messy hair, and bags under his eyes. I was a tired mess too. During these days caffeine kept me awake and sharp since we were working night and day trying to solve the gruesome mystery. 

"Shower?" He asked.

"Please!" 

We went to his room since I would spend most of my nights there. What started as casual, grew to be a routine. I started hating sleeping alone in cold sheets – his warmth kept me safe. 

When we entered his room, pleasant silence joined us. We stripped down our dirty clothes and sins as we went to the bathroom. We didn’t say a word until warm water touched our tired bodies.

“Warm enough?” Sam asked me.

I nodded. He shampooed my hair, and I did my body while letting my muscles relax under the shower, feeling every part of me slowly shutting down from exhaustion.  Once my hair was nice and cleaned and I turned to face Sam, kissing where his heart was as I balanced myself on my tiptoes since he was much taller than me. 

“My turn?” I asked and got on his knees, like he usually would do when I wanted to wash his hair, and wrapped his hands around my waist, cupping my ass. It wasn’t the first time we showered together, the aftercare was as important for him as it was for me, but this time it felt far more intimate and real. The aftercare would usually turn into rough shower sex, leaving me breathless and sometimes even covered in bruises, but this time I saw true intimacy and meaning of showering together. 

Sam kissed my stomach as I washed his hair, sending light shivers all over my body. His hand went between my legs, and a light moan escaped from my lips. 

“All done!” My voice trembled. Sam stood up and kissed me hungrily. I could never get enough of his kisses, his lips were soft, kisses sweet kinda like cherries in spring, nothing like I’ve ever tasted before. He broke the kiss as our eyes met, water still running down our bodies. I could feel his breath on my lips. The air, even though hot and heavy, got a little bit chilly for a second – or was I getting nervous? I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. I didn’t know why I was getting nervous. Everything that seemed familiar was now foreign to me. Even though we fucked a million times, even though we both had seen each other naked, I was still feeling that tickling sensation in the pit of my stomach. 

Sam turned off the shower. We did our night routine in blissful silence. Skincare, haircare, the whole nine yards…in blissful pleasant silence. Sam even started using my Vitamin C serum, when I told him how good it is for the skin. 

I was pleasantly surprised when he took a little bit of my hydrating cream after the serum. I would always use that after having a rough day on the job, it did wonders for my tired skin. 

“You’re learning,” I told him as I brushed my teeth. 

“From the best.” He simply said. 

***

I didn’t remember the last time I did my night routine in my bathroom – and it all started when Dean caught me leaving his room to get my toothbrush. 

“You two are louder than a jackhammer!” He told me as he opened the door of his room, messy hair, eyes barely open, clearly feeling creaky from lack of sleep…again. “Keep it down, or I swear I’ll kill you both!”

“Sorry!” I was embarrassed but trying hard not to laugh.

Ever since then, I decided not to leave his room during the night. So, naturally, I started leaving my stuff in Sam’s room. 

***

After we got in our pajamas; Sam in his gray sweatpants and me in my oversized blue T-shirt I “borrowed” from him, got under the covers. I could feel my whole body relaxing, as I let my mind drift God knows where…I was ready to fall asleep, but Sam had other plans. He wrapped his hand around my waist pulling me closer to him. His semi-hard cock was pressed against my ass, and I felt his lips on my neck. 

“Yeah, Sammy?” I bit my lower lip. 

“I don’t wanna sleep.” He mumbled between kisses. 

I turned around, missing the softness of his lips on mine. I kissed him, feeling the minty taste on his lips. My hand went in his hair, pulling him closer to me. He moaned when I pulled his locks, sending shivers all over his body. He pushed me back onto the mattress as he climbed on top of me, leaving kisses all over my jaw and neck. I loved his lips on my skin, I loved everything about them; the softness, the taste, the ability to make me wet in seconds… 

“You got me worried today,” Sam whispered between kisses. 

“Sorry, I was a hot-headed dumbass.”

I thought I could take down the ghost by myself. I didn’t stick to the plan and almost got thrown off the balcony when the damn thing attacked me – my mistake.

“Like always.”

And that’s why you love me. I bit my tongue. I felt my walls completely coming down under him. I didn’t care about labels, I didn’t care what we were, I just knew my heart was struggling to stay silent. I wanted to say those words as much as I desperately wanted to hear them from him. 

“Shut up and kiss me!” I told him instead. 

Sam pressed his lips on mine, this time his hand went down my stomach between my legs. His fingers were cold, making my skin shiver, but his touch bought endless pleasure. 

I could feel his two fingers in me for a few seconds before he pulled away. 

“Tease,” I said annoyed. He loved making me beg and feel desperate and I loved every second of it. 

He licked his fingers clean and kissed me letting me have a taste as well. 

“You are delicious.”

Everything about this seemed different. He was sweeter and far more gentle. Usually, he would tell me to be quiet, his good girl, he would be rough, but this time…he wasn’t? He had a gentle side, but I’d rarely see it. I felt something was different. I felt my heart connecting with his and my soul feeling closer to his own. 

“And you’re a tease.” 

He laughed, showing off those cute little dimples I adored so much. 

"Just a little. " He smirked before kissing me again. I was growing impatient, and it was like he heard me. He wasted no time, he moved my panties to the side as I helped him lower his sweatpants. He entered me slowly, letting me adjust to his size, letting me bask in the pleasure his cock was giving me. I buried my fingers into his damp hair, arching my back slightly. 

"You feel so good!" 

He would always tell me that. Every time. No exception. He knew his words made me needy, horny, and desperate…He knew what buttons to push. 

He started to move and that was when my heart decided to work against me…or it did me a favor? My eyes were lost in his, not wanting to break the contract. I was feeling every inch of him, slowly moving in and out, skin to skin….

"I love you!" 

I heard myself say. My heart was pounding, I could see his expression change as his hair was falling on my cheeks…he smiled and kissed me.

"I love you too!" 

I didn't expect this answer from him. At the moment it didn't seem real but I think we both knew it was coming. Between the constant staring, and flirting just to gross out Dean and the genuine connection we had, we knew…

Sam's pace became faster, and I was slowly losing it. His face was inches away from mine, feeling each other's breaths as my climax was getting closer. I could feel my body shaking, my nails digging into his back as I couldn’t get his name out of my mouth. 

“Come on, baby!” He whispered in my ear. 

I loved his voice, I loved his touch, his kiss. I loved him.

I came hard, biting his shoulder (Sam didn’t even flinch), not wanting to be too loud because of Dean and his “Next time I’m gonna kill you both” sentence. 

He kissed me before collapsing next to me. We were both panting, waiting for someone to say something, to break the ice that had already been broken when I told him I love you. But no one did. Instead, we fell asleep, my head on his chest, safe and sound. 

[kurt-hummel-eat-your-heart-out]

Can you write something about the outsiders gang with a trans guy reader whos supper dysphoric. Or maybe coming out to them? I don't know just a thought

Yesss ofc! I decided to go with headcannons bc I can do a little section for each of the boys, I hope that’s okay. I wrote this pre-existing to the book/movie btw.

Transmasc! Reader x The Outsiders gang HCs

_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•

•_Johnny Cade_•

Johnny is one of the first people you come out to

He’s generally the most accepting of the group at first

He helps you figure out how you’re going to tell everyone else and reassures you about it

If someone is upset or unaccepting towards you, he’ll make his disappointment in them known

And if Johnny is disappointed in you, you know you’re in the wrong

So he gets his point across very easily

Don’t let him cut your hair-

He will fuck it up so bad

We all know what happens when this boy tries to cut hair

Offers to get (possibly steal) things like men’s cologne or other little things for you

If you’re having a bad dysphoria day, call him. He usually knows what to say or how to distract you from it.

•_Ponyboy Curtis_•

A little confused at first

Not upset or anything, just confused

You’ll have to go into depth a little for him to understand

But once he gets it, he’s supportive

He already saw you as ‘one of the guys’ anyway, so this isn’t really a big difference to him

If he has some shirts or flannels to spare, he’s definitely letting you borrow them

He will also offer you a haircut

I wouldn’t trust him with hair either

He wouldn’t even bother with scissors, he’d just grab any blade and start hacking away

It’s the thought that counts

Not the best with comforting words, but he’ll listen if you need someone to talk to or hug you if you feel like shit

•_Dallas Winston_•

Really bad initial reaction, unfortunately

He’s really confused about it

He known you’ve never really been into all the typical girly things. Like makeup, skirts, all that

He knew you’d rather be caught dead than in a pair of pumps

But for some reason he still doesn’t seem to be able to wrap his head around the fact that you’re a guy

At first he sort of thinks you’re joking and doesn’t really take you seriously

But he comes around eventually (not without Johnny having to talk to him, though)

Once he kind of realizes how big of a deal this is for you, he becomes a little more protective over you

He’ll act really casual about it, but he secretly worries about you a lot

If anyone so much as looks at you wrong, he’ll take ‘em outside

•_Sodapop Curtis_•

Probably the second or third person you tell

Similar reaction to Ponyboy, you might have to go into detail a bit

But regardless, he supports you. He doesn’t really care what you do, as long as you’re happy

Like Pony, he’ll also offer to let you borrow his clothes. He knows it makes you feel a lot better to actually wear men’s clothes, so he’ll give you some of his

He really wants you to teach you how to do your hair if you end up cutting it short

He’s so going to teach you guy stuff, like he would love to

He’s in the room when Pony attempts to cut your hair. He immediately stops him before he can cut anything off, he already knows it’s gonna end badly

He’s also a little protective of you. If you’re around a lot of people in public, he stands next to you in case anyone decides to be rude.

•_Darry Curtis_•

You have Soda and Pony in the room when you decide to tell him

You aren’t really sure how he’s going to react, so you’re a little surprised when he’s supportive of you

Since he’s basically had to become a father figure to his younger brothers, he feels very protective over you now

He’s gonna give you a talk about how rude people are going to be and how you have to be careful (like you don’t already know)

He’s really worried about you. He knows how stupid people can be, and he doesn’t want anything to happen to you

If he has a say in it, he won’t let you go anywhere alone. He’ll always have Soda or Pony go places with you or walk you home

He’s gonna offer to get you a switchblade if you don’t already have one

He’s just very worried. He’s stern and overprotective sometimes because he cares, it’s the same way with his brothers

It’s just his way of showing love and that he cares

•_Steve Randle_•

Sodapop probably tells him for you, just because he’s not sure how he’ll react

He acts like he doesn’t really care, but he does

He honestly slips up with your name a lot in the beginning

Deep down he feels really bad about it, but he acts like he doesn’t care that much

He’s trying, I promise

He would steal things for you if you asked him to. He’ll act like it’s no big deal, but he’s glad you’re actually asking him to

It makes him feel like he’s helping or making things better in some way

If you’re younger than him, he’s definitely going to call you ‘little man’ to annoy you

He’s there to listen if you need someone to talk to about things, but he really won’t know how to be supportive. He’s not the most empathetic person, but he’s sympathetic to your situation

•_Two bit (Keith) Matthews_•

When you come out to him, it’s like probably the one time he’s ever been serious in his life

He even paused the TV for it

But after that, it’s back to his usual joking and tomfoolery

His way of ‘guy bonding’ is offering you beer and cigarettes every time you hang out

He kind of assumes you’d want to smoke and drink like rest of the guys, so if you decline he’d be a little surprised

If Steve isn’t calling you ‘little man’, he absolutely will

He’s going to have so many new nicknames for you now, just wait

Mister man, stud, boss, things of that nature. It’s not to make fun of you, he just thinks they’re funny

He’s for sure going to go make fun of you if you’re short, though. Unless it bothers you and you ask him to stop. But if you aren’t super bothered by it, he’s so doing that

_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•

Thank you for the request, I hope I wrote something you liked:) this is not proofread so lmk if there’s any typos as always.

[fantasy-the-final-frontier]

I’m on my (third?) watch of Agents of Shield, currently on 2x08, The Things We Bury. And it just occurred to me how good the parallel stories are in this episode in particular, all centering around the title.

(This breakdown got a lot more in-depth than I was expecting, so I’m putting the rest under a cut)

Storyline 1: the backstory of Daniel Whitehall. Shortly after finding a person (Jiaying) who can survive contact with the Obelisk, Whitehall and his men are captured by the Allied forces (as seen in 2x01). After being interrogated by Peggy Carter, Whitehall is consigned to a Shield prison for life. But that is not his end - HYDRA members release him from prison decades later, where he can continue his research on the Obelisk, experiment on Jiaying, and work his way to the position he holds in HYDRA in the modern day.

Whitehall: We could learn so much together.

Peggy: Instead we’ll forget. Forget you, forget your work. When I leave no one else will come. No one to hear your stories, study your deadly artifacts. You’ll be buried.

Whitehall: I seriously doubt that. Nothing stays buried forever.

Storyline 2: Grant Ward kidnaps his older brother Christian to have an emotional confrontation about their abusive past. They go to the site of the well (from episode 1x08), where Grant forces Christian to unearth it. The entire time, the brothers accuse each other of gaslighting and manipulation, blaming the other for the events of that day. Once the well is revealed, Grant threatens Christian until his brother confesses to forcing Grant during the incident at the well. The storyline ends with a news story reporting the deaths of Christian and his parents.

Christian: The well. You still blame me for the well. We both know that it was you who nearly killed Thomas down there.

Grant: Do you sleep better telling yourself that?

Christian: You know, I don’t know what crazy lies that you have built up all these years, but the well doesn’t even exist anymore. It’s gone. Mom and Dad buried it.

Grant: (pause) Oh, no. They just covered it up.

Storyline 3: the search for the alien city. Taking inspiration from Fury, Coulson decides to one-up HYDRA by putting in place a series of dominoes that will gain him access to a satellite. This allows the team to locate the alien city,

Coulson: We may actually have a shot at finding the city.

Skye: Are you sure it’s something you wanna dig up?

Coulson: If we don’t, HYDRA will. We need to get there first.

I just love the juxtaposition between the three storylines! From figurative digging into Bakshi and archived Shield files in storyline 1, to literal digging in storyline 2, to the city in storyline 3 being underground, all are about the things that get buried (hence the title) but not destroyed. Usually “bury” implies a final ending, as in burying a body, but this episode shows that buried is not the same as forgotten.

Daniel Whitehall is able to gain a new life and new identity. The well is unearthed and the Ward brothers’ past is laid bare. The alien city, which was lost for thousands of years, is discovered. And to dig more into storyline 1, Whitehall’s background in 2x08 teases parts of Skye’s background - more past which was buried (redacted by Shield) that is now being revealed. Jiaying’s barely-living body is dumped in a ditch in lieu of a burial, and in 2B we learn she was nursed back to health. The buried live once more.

Season 2A is all about the past coming back in full force to influence the present, and this episode is chock-full of that theme. More specifically, parts of the past that were supposed to be hidden or forgotten, parts which are demanding themselves to be known again.

This right here is the Good Shit™️, aka my favorite part of this show, and I’m so fucking pumped!

[slashingdisneypasta]

Foxy Coltrane x Crazy!Reader || Headcanons

Topic: Foxy with an S/O who hates Otis.

Warnings: Hating on Otis, curses, threats, smuttiness (Specifically meaning talk of cum, penis, and um... volume+proximity to other people)... look, its Driftwood-Coltrane fanfiction. Its not gonna be clean.

For as long as you've known this family, which is pretty much as long as you've been friends with Foxy (He brought you home his next time visiting them. He said you're crazy and you'll fit right in- which you do XD )- you have h a t e d Otis.

He brushed you the wrong way immediately when one of the first things he said near you was putting Foxy down (Someone you really like. Someone you genuinely just click with. Someone who later becomes more then a friend). You tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, I mean brothers do mess with each other right?

But goddamnit. The more you tried to look for a redeeming quality in this piece-of-crap man, the less you liked him. He was just gross. He's gross, and cranky, and god d a m n i t, those r a n t s. Just shut up! You're not as smart as you think! No one is listening to you. You're the boss of no one!

Anyway, so your stance on Otis has been pretty steady since the beginning. You god along great with everyone else, cuz like Foxy said you a r e crazy, so they loved you and they didn't put you off at all. You could even have a good time with them when Otis was there, you just didn't really interact with him.

As for Otis' own feelings... well, Otis doesn't like anyone (Except maybe Baby. And he clearly has a soft spot for Mama Firefly too otherwise he would never have come down to dinner in the first movie and brought... whoever was in that jar for her. I cant clearly hear the name.). So he pretty much disliked you from the beginning too. Took one look at you, rolled his eyes and moved on.

Foxy... is a big fan of your distaste for his brother honestly XD Like, you like him more??? Really??? Hell yes. He is fucken better.

And every time that you snap at Otis (Whether it be because he said something rude towards your favourite person, Foxy, or just cuz he was getting on your nerves by... you know... existing- ), Foxy just has this shit-eating grin on his face and he'll keep you safe if Otis decides to lash out and try to hurt you for it. He'll aim a loaded shot gun right at his brother and mean it. And Otis will see that he means it.

(Sure, he may not intend to actually kill Otis like you might enjoy, just wound him, but uh- being shot is gonna hurt like a bitch no matter where the wound is)

It turns him on, too. Like goddamn- the moment you grit your teeth and growl or even spit at Otis- Foxy feels himself getting as hard as rock. The first few times this happens, he doesn't both you about it. He's a grown man, he can handle this. And by 'handle this', i do not mean jerk off. I mean he'll just, sort of, adjust his jeans and live with it until he stops being turned on and it softens up again?? He ignores it, basically. Yes, he will have a yucky creamy mess in his underwear (Or? Just his jeans?? I don't know if these men would wear underwear. They stinky) but eh he can live it. He's gross, you must know this.

One day either you notice it (I mean how can you not? I bet you good money Foxy's pretty large, bigger than Otis and thats saying something, and that would create a thick indentation in his pants 😅😅😅), or Foxy draws your attention to it (Having decided that, yeah. He does wanna fuck his friend. Lets give this a try and see if you're into it), and welllllllllll~

That begins your more then friends thing with Foxy XD

And oh! Yes. You can bet your bottom dollar you are extra loud when Foxy's fucking you in the Firefly house. You dont give a fuck if most of the family hears, they don't care themselves (Mama Firefly is probably just like 'Oh good for sweet Winnie~ ^^ ~', Baby rolls her eyes like 'Ugh, i'm trynna watch a fricken movie here!', Spaulding is at work, Tiny figures someone's having a tantrum upstairs which is pretty standard, RJ just leaves like 'fuck this i'd rather be outside anyway', and Grandpa... 😂😂 sorry but Grandpa probably cheers you on- )- you just want Otis to know how good Foxy is in every single aspect. Its a low blow, but hell if you care?? Otis is a bastard.

Foxy thinks your craziness is amusing and adorable, and he's so chuffed that the one you're crazy for is him.

You're also super affectionate with Foxy when Otis is around. I mean, you're normally affectionate with Foxy (How could you not be?? Look at him! Tell me you don't wanna give him kisses and hug him) because he's great, but it definitely hits different when Otis' (self imposed) lonely ass is around to see it. No one wants worship him, do they?? Nope.

Like, you're all over him like some kind of obsessed love-struck freak (And, again, who could blame you? look at him-). Running your hands up his sides or over his chest (Dipping under his shirts sometimes), your lips on is jaw or giving him a very deep very obscene tongue-kiss, sitting sideways his lap so you can still see him and have intimate whisper-little talks with him (And kicking Otis if you're close enough 😅😅), sucking slow and wet hickeys into his neck while he watches his old movies, etc.

Again- Foxy does not mind at all 😂😅😅 He loves it actually. He doesn't move to stop you at all. In fact, if he brings Otis around you (Which he loves to do on purpose, because he loves to see how protective and loving you get about him when you see Otis with him) he will apologise. Like 'Sorry, sweetheart... couldn't get a sitter on such short notice. Its not my fault y'cant schedule your booty calls better, sweet thing... he'll jack off in the bushes or something.'.

You are totally willing to brawl with Otis if you it comes to it!! If he keeps insulting Foxy, or you, or just reach your limit- you have lunged at him before and Foxy has had to catch you, throw you over his shoulder and walk off like 'nope you, crazy pants, are the best fuck i've had in a while; you're not gettin' yourself killed that easy on my watch'.

Otis... Otis is not much more disturbed or pissed by your attitudes towards him then he is by everyone else's annoying little Things that he hates. He's not bothered, basically (Cuz uh, being annoyed and cranky are his default settings), and that pisses you off more.

... but hey. At least Foxy feels good ^^

[setagaya-division]

Mina's Thoughts on Kobe Division

Ren Nakashima

"The music artist known as 'Vox'. ...Would you believe me if I told you that I'm actually a fan of him. You have Yorii to thank for that. The two of them are in the same profession, so it's no surprise that they both know each other. He brought some of Vox's music home one night and kept playing it until five in the morning. Naturally, some of the songs sounded good, so I decided to listen to them. Now, I'm kind of a fan of his. Not saying I like all of his songs, but some of them are actually quite good."

"I actually had the pleasure of meeting Vox when Yorii introduced us. He seemed nice, but... for some reason, I could smell blood on him. And it wasn't his blood either. I wonder why..."

...

"Hah, it's no big secret that this guy is a killer. I mean, if you listen closely to some of his songs, they sound strangely possessive. Like he's talking about someone. ...Well, I don't know who he's talking about, and I don't care, but if he hurts Yorii or Elliot, he won't have to worry about his precious "darling" anymore! Cause he'll never see her again!"

Max Soukoku

"...Is it weird to say that I see a lot of myself in this young man? He's so quiet that you sometimes forget he exists. ...At least until you hear that he sent two or three guys to the hospital because they called themselves bullying him, but wound up learning the hard way to not judge someone based on appearances alone. You'd think after the first few times, people would get the hint, but stupidity can be infectious sometimes."

...

"Besides that, I get the same sense from 'Rocker Boy' that I do this kid. Both of them smell like blood. And this kid, even more so! But as long as I don't smell Elliot or Yorii's blood on him, he's safe. But the moment I do, we'll see just how fearsome he truly is!"

Kaiji Sano

"A lot of the girls at school are big fans of this guy. ...And some of the guys too. Me, I'll admit, he's attractive, but I don't know why people go nuts over him dressing up as the opposite sex. He's not the first to do that, but I guess there's something about how he dresses that attracts people. I don't know enough the fashion industry to make a guess, though."

...

"And just like his two buddies, this guy smells like blood too, though I only smelled two types of blood: his and one other's. A female's, I think. Still, that doesn't exactly fill me with fuckin' ease. He may not be a killer like his buddies, but this guy has spilled blood before. For his sake, those two blood types had better be the only ones I spell on him."

Lovesick

"These three men... they seemingly have nothing in common with each other. I have to wonder how exactly they met one another. ...Is it possible they all adopted each other like we did? If so, I wonder what the circumstances were that caused them to get to know each other?"

...

"These guys may not have anything in common, at first glance. But there is one thing they share: they're all murderers. Oh, I know I don't really have room to talk, but unlike me who has to kill to survive, these three kill simply for sport and enjoy it. Well like I said before, they can do whatever the hell they want. But if they come do anything to harm either of my brothers, I'll show them what true murder looks like."

[muu-kun]

Timeline of Mason Thompson’s Most Prominent Traumatic Events (Part 3/4)

Disclaimer: I am not the peacekeeper for what can or cannot be considered trauma. This is solely a document containing a list of what Muu has personally found to be traumatizing to him. And, yes, while nearly 90 percent of it is derived from instances between himself and other muses on tumblr, the original identities have been scraped and replaced with entirely new ones to save face. Any similarity to hereby existing muses is purely incidental. Be mindful of the numerous (but perhaps not limited to) triggers that appear in the upcoming text including: mentions of abuse, bullying, abandonment, neglect, and NUMEROUS discussions on sexual assault. I cannot express enough how frequent that appears in his history, so please proceed with caution. If you have any further questions, my IMs are always open.

Further Disclaimer: This one is not as minor in impact as the prior two were by comparison. Be aware that one contains instances of far more cruel and heinous acts by a longshot. I couldn't sugarcoat a bulk of them even if I tried. There are no silver linings to be had no matter how hard one might squint. I wish with the upmost sincerity that I could take these away from him, but I can't. All I can do is condense them here as a reference guide for those with muses he brings up the topic of something called, "The Big Box". These events are what lurk within it.

18-20: Headed to Hell in a Hand Basket

Losing everyone. His first partner, the one he attempted to build a strong connection with that followed shortly after, his two best friends, and his older brother. They all went forward to live their lives without the hinderance of him being present. Which while, yes, he understands their reasoning on that to some extent, their departure without so much as a glance back ever so often to check in on his state of being was something he held such self blame for that it locked him into a state of chronic rumination-- namely when he was attempting to fall asleep. His insomnia has maybe since improved, but the extent of the damage it caused is presently irreversible.

With everyone leaving back to back, he found himself unknowingly forming an attachment into a vampire much younger in age than the best friend he'd adored for two years straight. This one was his age. They'd exchanged platonic utterances of love being held for the other, and the other male had also declared his concern for the wellbeing of the innocent minded human. Looking back, he'd almost wondered if they had become his favorite person by simply being kind. Not that he could confirm with certainty that he would have fit the diagnosis criteria of Borderline Personality Disorder at that age. It just remains something he is curious of is all. Also a question in his mind is if maybe his increased desire to achieve additional closeness with the vampire was because he held (very one-sided) romantic feelings for him. Logically, he had known they lacked compatibility in that area as both were submissive leaning individuals. With all things considered, though, he was never a logically led person as is at eighteen as is anyways.

When the very vampire he was growing uncertain feelings towards showed him an illustration of two men with appearances mirroring their own kissing each other, and he mistakenly took that as an indication they should have kissed one another as well. He hadn't asked for permission. Or even asked at all what their opinion of kissing was as is. Never had he taken a millisecond to ponder if other people enjoyed the closeness to be had in one as much as he did. He had no idea that had been assaulted in a malicious manner by someone close to them in the past. All he knew was that they were angry and critical of him for his chaste press of his lips to theirs. That were immediately disinterested in him as a friend, and as a person. Scum. That is what they called him.

Know that at the indication he was inevitably going to be left behind an additional time by someone he wanted to love him, and that his own mistakes were solely responsible for the shift from loved to unloved to occur, Muu had not been kind. By his logic, if he was so terrible as they began to imply, he was going to at least put evidence of such right there to back it up. He grew mean. Resentful. Reactive. And what other way to really cement in place that he was as awful as he was implied by them to be? To press the exact buttons he knew existed early by pure mistake. Kissing them. Again. And again. Hell, he'd lost count. And boy did he learn to regret it.

When the kissing he was guilty of got him labeled a sexual predator. It takes being an adult looking back on this one for Muu to find it a gray area in retrospect. On one hand it isn't an incorrect statement as he knew he was purposefully retraumatizing something that had confided in him a personal truth. On the other, however, Muu would swear it had no underlying desire to be with them in any kind of lustful manner. At the time, he lacked the maturity and understanding that sexual assault didn't actually boil down to sex. It was power. So while this statement hurt him by really pressing on the existing wounds left over from not having his own trauma being ignored, who else is to really fault for his autonomy being utilized for giving that pain to someone else to carry as well?

When he'd been told that he was going to go Hell to spend an eternity alone while his friends were all going to get to play together in Heaven without him. Neither Muu or the person telling him it believed in those forms of afterlife to begin with, and yet the intention and fear going in and out from statement was acquired from the same energy. Both parties were well aware that Muu was significantly afraid of being left behind. For a lot of reasons, though, Muu really wish they had just left each other's lives after that conversation. A lot wouldn't have happened if they did.

When things between himself and his newly sworn vampire enemy, known by Muu in present times as A Bat, when from bad to worse. Words aimed at him continued to be more thought out attacks of his psyche by gunning for his most deeply rooted insecurities. Of those that came out, the most devastating to his system didn't even come from the Bat personally. Instead, it came from the Bat's best friend. She informed him he was unlovable. And together they would remind him of this suddenly undisputed fact about himself every chance they could. And later, so would many others.

Words didn't stay words for long. Eventually resentment was carried out in physical altercations. Strangers he didn't even know were arriving from the woodwork to fight for their Bat brethren how they deemed necessary. That included having his arms repetitively twisted in multiple spots by people far stronger than himself. Some went out of their way to truly showcase their strength by picking up the young adult and throwing him against whatever surface was available. Walls, the floor, playground equipment, etc. He had broken rips, numerous sprains to all of his limbs, and acquired a bullet wound scar from being shot at from a close distance. It was left known to him to say the least that he was more desirable dead than alive at that point.

When he attempted to confide in mutual friends of his and the Bat that people were hitting him, or being unkind to him in what words were still being used, they all just told him that they refused to aid him in anyway. That he had it coming, so therefore he needed to endure it. And that while they were not blatantly going to admit to picking sides, surely none of them would have picked his anyways. Having no one to stop it-- especially not himself as he didn't know how-- there was really no shock at the fact everything escalated even further than what had already transpired.

When it became what he assumed to be universal knowledge that not only would Muu allow anything to happen to himself, and that no one was going to intervene to aid him, could he have really faulted anyone from thinking, "Why physically assault him when we can do so sexually instead?". Not to mention the fact that as a response to a lack of safety for his body on that front, he became so detached from all sensibility that he ignored indications of it in other parts of his life as he could only become attached to the idea of a saving friendship. Lacking the ability to reach out to anyone, the know how to recognize grooming from those more educated in the long haul of hurting another human being, and desperate enough to go to any ends to be "good" as a means of stopping all the pain going his way, Muu would find himself so frequently assaulted in the two year span that a number can't even settle himself down enough to go through all the gray areas in between all the red flags to get a proper number. Only what can really be provided is the most prominent acts of violence that area listed below.

Warning: These are graphic depictions of rape. And reminder: none of these muses are my own. These were all things to occur on tumblr-- and, no, they were not brought up to me beforehand and gained my permission as a writer. These were non-consensual on all fronts and therefore were severely traumatizing for Muu, who had no idea what was coming. The only thing I've changed is names for the sake of the fact that many muns involved have sought out to apologize for their carelessness at the time. Nevertheless, the damage was done, and this is for Muu to have his story told.

Lennox, 16 at time of assault. He was sixteen to Muu's eighteen. You read that right. The teen brother to someone the older male began to establish an infatuation with, but never reciprocated his feelings as they had far too much to focus on than a relationship. Even so, it didn't stop Muu from visiting often in the hopes that they would take a liking to him once they were truly able to settle down from an extensive list of adult responsibilities to sit down and have a chat. He'd try his hand at helping as he could, but being that they thought of him as a little brother enough as is with his noticeable cognitive deficit, they often found what opportunities they could to get both boys to boys together. What they didn't know was once left on their own devices to hash their distain for one another out, Lennox frequently pantsed and molested the special needs adult male out in secluded areas of the family's home. Thinking he could take it as he held out for the eldest sibling to pay him mind, he kept what was going on a secret. Or at least until the eve of what was supposed to be a night over between the adults over at the house. He'd found himself wandering about while everyone else appeared asleep, as his insomnia forbid him most nights from reaching slumber until late, late into the night. Awake as well had been the teenager, who invited him into the room with a promise to teach him how to play some of the most popular videogames at the time. Wanting to be educated on what boys liked to do, as he had always wished to fit into a group of them growing up, he agreed. As it would turn out, Lennox had a far different game in mind that they were going to play. One that involved taking a thin, not quite phallic looking item found in his room, and forcing it inside of Muu with no preparation whatsoever. When it was over, he located a parent within the home to drive him home. Only in the car did he confess that the teen had hurt his privates, and that he was concerned about the bleeding caused by such physical trauma. The only response he had been given was to tell no one else what had happened before being dropped off at home to tend to his wounds on his own. This is the event responsible for Muu not wishing to show his backside to anyone even years later. He is aware there has to be scarring present from what occurred, and he is incredibly self conscious of that fact. No part of him wants anyone to notice. Even if maybe they couldn't do so in the first place. He'd rather be cautious than not.

Chun-hee, 19 at time of assault. Otherwise known as Cherry, a gender non-conforming employee of the streets. Notorious for mugging, yet they never claimed to being above anything else outside of that. For what reason he might never know, but Muu happened to catch their eye after the first time he'd walked unassuming into their territory as his best method from getting between work and home as someone that relied on the transit system to get around. At first, when they would cross paths, all that was wanted from him was whatever was inside his wallet. If he had nothing, the next to be demanded would be his clothing. When he grew tired of being compliant, and only wished for them to leave him alone in order for him to get on with his day, their aggression towards him only grew. Any respect for him they could have possibly found in their empty heart went out the window. Once, when Muu had refused to give up his wallet, and instead shoved it inside his own pants for what he anticipated to be a safe place for it, Cherry had simply went in after it to retrieve it. What organ they were in proximity to, and grazed against in the process, was completely irrelevant. Or at least seemed so until any refusal on the younger male's part was intended at being kept in check with threats of sexual violence. That if he didn't comply, they would "fuck" him. Eventually, if turned to when. The first instance of things taking a turn for the lewd and unlawful between them was Chewon forcibly held Muu down onto the ground before inserting their genitalia into his mouth without his consent. To keep him compliant then and thereafter, they would threaten him with a knife. Once they'd even gone as far as to hold it near his groin, causing him to urinate on himself in front of them. At the sight of their disgust at what he'd done on instinct, he utilized it thereafter to pee on himself immediately at the sight of the other until they eventually gave up to go after someone else in his place. It is because of the events associated with them that he often discusses "making like a deer". He'd learned that they too release their bowels to escape being eaten by predators. Even years later, he is still at the ready to empty his own if he thinks there is a high probability someone is going to rape him. Also note that Muu had told someone immediately after Chewon had forced him into giving them oral copulation. The person he reached out to had really only told him to not confide in them again unless he had something far worse to share, because plenty of people had it more severe than that. Everything had something worse to compare it to, so at that he opted to tell no one about anything. There was no one to disappoint by doing so.

Kenji, 34 at time of assault. He and Muu met after the younger man answered his online ad seeking out someone to be his pet. Muu had been familiarized by the concept by another older man in his life who claimed it was the process of someone teaching another man to be good. Hoping that becoming such would solve all his problems in life as being bad had caused them, he couldn't have been more enthusiastic to stumble on someone's shared proposition. In the beginning, nothing they'd done on a sexual level as anywhere close to involving penetration, so he hadn't really thought on it to escape a situation that got him attention, and didn't require him to settle on a intimate dynamic that made him uncomfortable. Eventually, however, the older man's true colors really started to come out in the form of going from kind towards him when he made what was perceived to be mistakes to punishing him crudely. Worse even was that he always made Muu pick his own punishment from two unpleasant options. And if he failed to endure the one, he faced further consequence in being made to handle the other. That included becoming aggressive towards them from trying to introduce electricity play into their lessons to the point he hit the older man in the face. In retaliation to spoiling their underlyingly intimate encounter, and for striking them, he was made to pick between seeing if he could withstand having four climaxes prevented, or endure quadruple that in harsh smacks against his posterior. At first he attempted the option involving denial since he hadn't experienced the sensation of it before to know what pain and discomfort to anticipate. When that grew too overstimulating, he cried out and had to face the reality of being rid of the clothing covering up his lower half without a single word before enduring the first of many painful and hard smacks to bare flesh. The scene would grotesquely be mirrored later down the road when the older man reached a boiling point of anger towards the young blond for something forgettable, they chased him out into the living room to pin him along the arm of the couch, stripped him of the clothing adorning his skin below the belt, and assaulted him.

The Grayest Area of Them All

Amais. Ageless. A demon of demons. This is the person that told him when he was sixteen that the reason he was getting in trouble for confiding in people about his second and third assaults involving Grim was because they were his fault. He is also the only one Muu knew was a rapist as they had bragged about it to him in the past that his immeasurable amount of crimes were still incapable of putting him behind bars because he was in everyone's pockets. That and the fact not even Hell could contain him as that was his origin of place anyways. Amais knew no bounds when it came to sex as he was a demon associated with it. He openly shared the fact that he had fornicated with men, women, and even children against their will hundreds of times with no end in sight, and yet the then twenty year old still kept in contact. Mainly because by then he really didn't feel like he had anyone else's support. As such, he admittedly shared a bit too much about his most modern day predicaments. Including the conversation of being made good through a pet based dynamic. Seemingly feeling sorry for the young adult at the tales of his misfortune, the demon suggested that they take his teachings instead. Amais warned, though, that those who lived in his home to acquire his lessons were at times expected to please him regardless of whether or not their own desires were there in the moment. He had also gone to indicate that he really wouldn't have thought to pick Muu for a nightly event anyways as he held no attraction to him in any kind of manner. It was actually Muu himself that pleaded to keep in mind as he did not want to feel any different, or less desirable than those around him. In response, the elder stated to the younger that he was expected to be at his chambers at an approximate time for the two to engage in sexual intimacy. And that regardless of if he cried, screamed, or kicked as best he could, Amais was not going to stop. Why the smaller blond anticipated in any way that he would have been different from all the others he'd said those words to is anyone's guess. In the end, he did go to their room fresh after a bath as additionally expected of him, got undressed, climbed into the other's bed, and then spent an indiscernible amount of time begging his way out of an assault that didn't end until the demon himself decided it was over.

It was immediately following the assault involving Amais that Muu went no contact with everyone and ran away to not be seen years later. He highly suspected that not only was no one going to believe him for a rape that had to have been his fault, it probably would have just acted as further encouragement for those being harmful to his body on behalf of the Bat to get friends and monsters they were associated with involved with what was being inflicted on him from all sides in life. He couldn't take it anymore, so he disappeared. And now that he is back and trying to speak on these events to people, do you know what he really wants out of it? To be held not as the eighteen to twenty year old that endured all this, but actually of the section of sixteen year old version of himself that split off after the first time they had been hurt with no where to go following it either. He'd been carrying it unsuspectingly through each patch of grass, sidewalk, piece of furniture, and bedroom he'd been hurt in thereafter as if any bit of familiarity would have assisted him to detecting the pain before he couldn't prevent it anymore. They've only had each other this whole time, so it would so freeing to his heart to get the opportunity to be coddled so lovingly that every bit of him knows he is someone's baby in the way he never got to be enough to finally give into the idea it doesn't have to be just him on his own anymore. And that it is safe for him to truly be himself by coming back into the out now, because it is safe for him to do so. You'll know you are there when the broken bits of him wither away to reveal the mirth that has always been lurking in desperation to be seen again. Only when you can describe him as nothing more fitting than a child that won't cease coming to you for affection, or give you a moment to breathe for a moment without joyfully telling you all about his otherwise mundane sounding day, will it be put to your attention that you are in the vicinity of Muu in his finest, happiest, and most genuine form.

[fantasycorrupted-a]

"I'm sorry. For causing you trouble. I wasn't sure where else to go..." She said quietly, looking at him from the corner of her eye. Watching as he wrapped the bandages around her arm. The bruises were dark on her pale skin. They were only a few hours old and they had already turned a dark, and violent navy blue. She was not sure what to tell him how she even got these. There were people after her. She was not sure who even sent them.

She was leaving the cafe, and then all of a sudden there was a few men on her. She didn't recognize any of them.

Everything was a blur. Her size and speed was the only thing she had going for her. There was no way she could go back home, since that was probably the first place that they were going to look in the first place. Looking back at Lyle she frowned, tucking her hair behind her ear as she shifted on the bed.

"Can you close that rubbing alcohol? I've been trying not to throw up since you opened it."

Fate was a funny thing, wasn’t it? A few years ago, Lyle would have never believed he could ever have anything close to a friend; now, he had tasted love for the first time – as well as true happiness, from Tim’s smile – and he wanted to grab this feeling with both hands and hold it close until his arms started aching. God, he had needed this. In the back of his mind, he had known that a world beyond the laboratory existed, a world beyond the pain and tears his days were filled with as he became a toy for his demon and was forced to fight the other demons – his stepbrothers – until they all fainted with exhaustion.

But it had been only once he had crossed paths with Timantha that he had realised they had finally taken back their freedom. It was theirs. Lyle could breathe easily now. His brother and his five stepbrothers could go back to the lives they had once had. To the happiness. To the peace. To the safety. To the annoying predictability of their every day. He knew it made no sense to experience the surge of relief and joy each morning when his alarm clock rang; people usually hated that noise. It meant leaving bed. Leaving warmth and rest. And yet... this was life. Now he could experience it with his every sense.

As his hands followed Tim’s request without thinking – thank goodness, he was finally done wrapping her in bandages – Lyle’s hands shook. He had to steady himself to be able to cork the bottle. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry... I...” He trusted her. (Why else would he be doing this for her?) And yet, the words came hard, stopping at his mouth like they were stubborn gum sticking to his teeth. “I’ve seen sights like these before... much worse ones... and... some were caused by me. Against my will.” He swallowed. His hand slithered into hers, caressing its back with a thumb.

“I’ll explain better someday... I promise. But for now... just know that this sight, seeing you like this... I felt so bad for not having found you earlier. And I’m so glad you’re safe now...” His voice shook, and he bit his lip. Though he was choking on his words and on tears of worry, he forced a smile, and his hand gave hers a gentle squeeze. “Get some rest, okay? I’ve got some work to finish in the other room, but I’m here. Just knock on the bed if you need me. I’ll come...”

@technobratx

[sinceileftyoublog]

Willi Carlisle Live Preview: 2/9, Schubas, Chicago

BY JORDAN MAINZER

The critters in Willi Carlisle's Critterland (Signature Sounds) aren't just varmints like the one that graces the album's absurd cover, nor the two-headed lamb "too strange to survive." They're anybody--human or otherwise--considered an outcast by the unrealistic standards set forth by society. On his Darrell Scott-produced third album, Carlisle digs into his own personal history and local mythology to paint a picture of an American south that pits the freaks against each other, and where those who dare to be different nonetheless find kinship in one another. With a pared-down instrumental arsenal (most songs contain just acoustic guitar, banjo, steel guitar, and/or harmonica), Carlisle's ramshackle delivery and utmost longing stand tall and beckon you to sing along.

On Critterland, Carlisle gives you anthems right from the start. The album's title track, based on an attempt at living in an intentional community in Arkansas, celebrates those "makin' wagers on the critters that we see crossing the road;" led by propulsive banjo, the song soars in the chorus with celebratory harmonica and expansive steel guitar. Purportedly, Carlisle wanted to let loose on the record, inspired by the ragged rambunctiousness of his live show, and you can see "Critterland" becoming a set highlight for the rest of his career. Critterland is far from a fists-in-the-air record, though. Many songs tackle substance abuse, addiction, and suicide with a mix of earnestness, dark humor, and self-awareness. On the gorgeously finger-picked "The Arrangements", the narrator can't take too much joy in the fact that his horrible father has met his maker, as he's beginning to see himself in his dad, ultimately leading himself to think, "It's still sad when bad men die." "Higher Lonesome", the album's only completely true story, sees a drug-addled Carlisle at first "dreamin' of a country I saw at the rodeo," mistaken in his quest for non-existent perfection. As the song progresses, he toys with his own mortality: "See, I don't want to hit rock bottom, just to see how deep it goes / Shine a light on six feet under so I ain't afraid to go." Eventually, he joins AL-Anon and realizes the pain he's inflicted on himself and others, and his penchant for soul-crushing wordplay shines brightest: "With every coin the joiners get, they're farther from the pain of it / All the hurting that we did, it's a shame no coin'll pay for it."

Carlisle certainly knows how to start a song and hook you. He'll pay tribute to a friend who committed suicide and whose body was never found because his note used words too complex for the cops to understand. His immediate vocal harmonies with Jude Brothers on "I Want No Children" catalyze a fiddle-and-banjo instant folk classic. And as soon as 7-minute spoken word closer "The Money Grows on Trees" begins, you know you're in for Carlisle at his troubadour best, showcasing the lyrical dexterity of your favorite rapper. It's "When the Pills Wear Off", though, that devastates all the way through. "Father forgive me for what I have done / Drove 200 miles for six inches of love," he sings, placing you in a world of neon-lit bars and dingy motels. But the song's big reveal, from both an emotional, plot, and instrumental standpoint breaks you. "It's selfish to fall for yourself in someone," Carlisle opines, the other side of the coin of the mourning narrator of "The Arrangements", before continuing, "I know that I want him and always will / I don't think he could have known that it was fentanyl." At the moment he names the deadly drug, the song's plaintive piano and cinematic strings squeak and warble to a clumsy stop, as if to emulate a life cut short. When the "The Money Grows on Trees" ends--it's a song based on David Mac's When Money Grew on Trees, firsthand accounts of a weed moonshiner and the corrupt sheriff that allowed him to do it--it's clear that Carlisle's use of regional history is far from mere aesthetic cosplay like it is for so many of his contemporaries. He can change endings all he wants, in the stories of his lives and those of others, through his songs, but it's the act of analyzing contemporary ills through bonafide folklore that emphasizes the absurdity of the here and now.

Carlisle headlines Schubas tonight. Nashville folk duo Golden Shoals opens. Doors at 7:30 PM, show at 8. The show is sold out.

[myah--reads]

Carnage (L.O.R.D.S. standalone) Shantel Tessier

I vaguely recommend. I know it's a standalone but it'd be much better if you read the other four.

I hate to say it, but this one is just my least favorite story in Shantel’s world. The first half was super good and had some amazing 🌶 scenes, but the second half fell a bit flat for me. The conflicts and resolutions were a mess. I didn’t fall in love with either the MMC or the FMC. The emotional connection between them was love-hate-hate/love but the communication was meh. I know that was the point in some parts, but just me personally, it wasn’t enough. The supporting characters were much more interesting than the mains and I’m excited for the next one she writes about them.

Thank you, Candi Kane PR and Shantel for the advanced copy. This review is of my own honest opinion.

Blurb: A PUPPET

The men in the secret society known as the Lords think they rule the world. And in a way, they do. Each has sold their soul to the devil at a young age in exchange for power and wealth. Like anything else, they have different levels of success. The more they’re willing to serve, the more power they have. Among them are the Spade brothers, who run Carnage. It’s where the Lords who have not held up their oath go to live out the rest of their lives in shackles. Tucked away from the world as if they never existed. I VOW. YOU VOW. WE VOW. I once belonged to a Lord—Saint Beckham Carter. Although nothing was holy about him, I still kneeled as if he could grant me eternity in a world where only evil existed. At the time, I willingly vowed to be his and allowed him to share me with his “brothers.” But things changed. And what I thought couldn’t get any better got exceptionally worse. So I did the only thing I could and ran from him, knowing I could never return. Now he’s found me and dragged me back to his hell, where he will make me his pet. The world already thinks I’m dead, so no one will miss me. And I’m just another name on a long list of those who will never know freedom. What he doesn’t know is why I ran from him in the first place. A Lord doesn’t listen to reason, so it’s not like he’d care anyway. Saint was born a Lord, and he will die as one. If life has taught me anything, it’s that we all pay for our sins. And Saint will never let me forget that my place is at Carnage, serving him on my knees until death is granted.

Things to know about Carnage This is not an RH Secret society MF J/P (jealous/possessive) Hero OTT (over the top) Hero Can be read as a standalone Told in dual POV

[yhwhrulz]

Morning and Evening with A.W. Tozer Devotional for October 6

Tozer in the Morning Committing to Personal Revival

One consequence of our failure to see clearly the true nature of revival is that we wait for years for some supernatural manifestation that never comes, overlooking completely our own individual place in the desired awakening. Whatever God may do for a church must be done in the single unit, the one certain man or woman. Some things can happen only to the isolated, single person; they cannot be experienced en masse. Statistics show, for instance, that 100 babies are born in a certain city on a given day. Yet the birth of each baby is for that baby a unique experience, an isolated, personal thing. Fifty people die in a plane crash; while they die together they die separately, one at a time, each one undergoing the act of death in a loneliness of soul as utter as if he alone had died. Both birth and death are experienced by the individual in a loneness as complete as if only that one person had ever known them.

Three thousand persons were converted at Pentecost, but each one met his sin and his Savior alone. The spiritual birth, like the natural one, is for each one a unique, separate experience shared in by no one. And so with that uprush of resurgent life we call revival. It can come to the individual only. Though a visitation of divine life reaches seventy five persons at once (as among the Moravian Brethren at Dusseldorf), yet it comes to each one singly. There can exist no collective body of believers that can be revived apart from the units that compose the body.

Understood aright these are truths full of great encouragement and good hope. Nothing can hinder you or me from experiencing the revival we need. It is a matter for God and the solitary heart. Nothing can prevent the spiritual rejuvenation of the soul that insists upon having it. Though that solitary man must live and walk among persons religiously dead, he may experience the great transformation as certainly and as quickly as if he were in the most spiritual church in the world.

Tozer in the Evening Laboring in the Lord

Certain passages of Scripture, if carelessly read, might give the impression that God delegates some of His work to Christian leaders to do for Him as a manufacturer might sublet to others certain items in a contract; such, for instance, as First Corinthians 15:58, "Therefore, my dear brothers, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain." In First Corinthians 16:10 Paul says plainly that Timothy "is carrying on the work of the Lord, just as I am," but we must never understand from this that these men did a work of God apart. Rather they were the obedient instruments in whom and through whom God wrought His own work.

Any misunderstanding about this is cleared up by the explanation of Paul in Colossians 1:29, "To this end I labor, struggling with all his energy, which so powerfully works in me"; and First Corinthians 15:10, "I worked harder than all of them--yet not I, but the grace of God that was with me."

Copyright Statement This material is considered in the public domain.

[lindajenni]

sep 29

decision making time ending soon

"to everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven." eccl 1:10

it's difficult for humans to imagine life without time. it is so critical to every area of our lives, and each have a limited amount of it. animals, precious to be sure, exist without a soul. they have no perception of time - no dread or hope of a tomorrow, only now. but we humans have a soul, a vacuum reserved for God or self. we know dread full well while only the wise have a hope in Christ.

we all have moments in our life, special times; a birth, the death of a loved one, maybe even a marriage - but there always come a deciding moment; a moment that changes everything. abraham had a moment when he offered up his beloved son in pure obedience. esau had a moment when he foolish sold his birthright for a hungry belly. moses had a moment when he decided to check out the fire burning on the mount of God. all of these were life changing. unfortunately, many don't recognize how important a "moment" can be.

all our lives are a ministry of sorts; to God or self. how's yours going so far? i want to read a short passage from one of my favorite authors, o.s. hawkins.

"an effective ministry of God's word will balance teaching doctrine, correcting false path, and instructing in godly living. some believers overemphasize doctrine: they are doctrinally sound, but living without power. others focus much on reproof or correction, apparently thinking it is their calling to reprove and correct everyone else. still others concentrate on "instruction in righteousness" 2 tim 3:26 to the exclusion of teaching doctrine, and thus they have no direction in life. an effective christian life is a balanced life, and God's word helps give balance to Ministry and to a person's life. so when you study the bible, do not judge it; it judges you. God's word has withstood the test of time and will be the Book of all books when all others have passed into obscurity."

we must all spend our time here, holding each second as precious and opportunistic. that's how our Lord lived; each moment - each word purposely spoken because He knew the weight of them and how they would be recorded and read down the centuries. our words do not carry such significance, but their importance remains. "but I say to you that for every idle word men may speak, they will give account of it in the day of judgment." matt 12:36

Jesus, being God, had many life defining moments. as when He was tempted. Jesus was "showed Him all the kingdoms of the world in a moment of time." luke 4:5 His victory in that moment led him on to know other moments, some joyful, some painful - all leading to the ultimate moment, our redemption and reconciliation with the Godhead.

there was a generation that lived in the time of Christ's first coming. like joseph, His identity was hidden from His brothers at the time. these were known as biblical times and we are that chosen generation to live in them once again.

the prophecy: "seventy weeks are determined for your people and for your holy city, to finish the transgression, to make an end of sins, to make reconciliation for iniquity, to bring in everlasting righteousness, to seal up vision and prophecy, and to anoint the Most Holy." dan 9:24

beloved, this is our moment; a moment like no other, a generation like no other. many have made their decision, but know the game isn't over until time's up - then there will be crucial overtime period called the seventieth week. in the game of life one is allowed to switch sides at will if it is genuine. God is so merciful that way. but know this, our choice has consequences. one will lead to a beautiful eternity with our Creator - the other to unimaginable torment and regret. "oh, how they are brought to desolation, as in a moment! they are utterly consumed with terrors." psa 73:19

what will you do with your moment and how will your life reflect it? will it be indicative of the light of life? "true faith involves not just knowing Christ, but also developing and maintaining consistency between what we read and our conduct, our words, and our thoughts. faith and works are not contradictory to each other. in fact, in scripture we find them complimenting each other. may your life reflect your faith. make your moment count!

[pgoeltz]

sharing Bobby Weir's father story.

happy Dad's Day y'all.

"Both my natural and adopted fathers were military men. My adopted dad attended Annapolis for seven years and came out with the military equivalent of a doctorate in Engineering. When they gave him his first commission and put him out to sea he was seasick from the time he left port to the time he got back. It was so bad they had to put him in the hospital. Then he tried it again right at the beginning of World War II. He wanted nothing more than to serve his country but it just was not going to happen. He showed a lot of perseverance.

He was quite a guy. In fact, never in my presence did he ever use bad language. Rarely did I see him ever become angry, and it was not that he wasn't a lively, energized person, he was just a consummate gentleman.

He was born with three kidneys so he could drink all he wanted and was never affected. He did not drink much, but as far as getting a little buzzed, it was not a doable deal for him. I think one time my parents had a party and he was drinking pretty much all night and toward the end of the evening I may have seen a twinkle in his eye. That was about it.

My natural father was born and raised in the Tucson, AZ area. He was 19 when he joined the Air Force and they put him behind the wheel of a bomber. He later became a test pilot and rose to the rank of Colonel. In fact, when he announced he was retiring, they offered him a Generalship but he declined because he had a son who was terminally ill.

My adopted parents passed on in 1972 from separate illnesses.

My mom died on my dad's birthday and a month later my dad died on my mom¹s birthday. So you don¹t argue with that kind of stuff.

Then about ten years went by and I came home from a tour and it was my first night home and I was trying to sleep in. I had this very strange dream about my family home, my brother and a stillborn baby. And at the point of the dream where my brother and I pick up the baby and hold it, and each other, I was awakened by the phone ringing in real life.

It was the Grateful Dead office calling to say there was a lady on the phone by the name of Phyllis who says she¹s your mother and did I know anything about this. Apparently she had known for some time who I was and had tracked me, but had to sign a promise not to contact me while my adopted parents were still living.

I myself had actually done some research to try and find her but she pretty effectively covered her tracks.

But I went and met her the next day and unfortunately we did not exactly hit it off ­ she had twelve other kids. So I could ascertain with a fair bit of ease that she didnt really have a need for me in her life. But I kept in touch with her, called her on Mother's day and over this time she gave me some information regarding my dad; his name and where she last saw him which at that point was 40+ years.

The story was that when she got pregnant she ran off to San Francisco without his knowing, and had me, and then came back but never let on that I existed. So he had no idea he had a son. When she told me who he was I had a private investigator track him down.

It took all of an hour for him to find him. As fate would have it, it turned out he was the commanding officer at Hamilton Field, the local Air Force base in San Francisco.

But because I am almost pathologically anti-authoritarian I figured this would not go well for either of us because it does not get much more authoritarian than the commanding officer of a military base. Then I just sat on the info for close to ten years. Finally I figured this guy¹s not getting any younger, I guess I better just buck up and do this. But there was still some apprehension because I didnt know what I was going to find. If my dad was an ass what does that say about me? I just assumed that military officers chose that profession so they could boss people around. So I figured I had three choices for contact: I could write him a letter ­ but he might crumble it up and throw it away. I could go see him ­ but the last thing I wanted was for my first and only memory of my father watching him clutch his chest and fall over backwards. I decided to call him.

It was early evening the next day and I called and said "I¹m looking for John Parver,"

and he said "That would be me"

and I told him "well, I'm Robert Weir and I live in Mill Valley and Ive been doing some research and have dug up some information that may be of considerable interest to you. But first I have to ask you a question or two."

And he replied, "ok."

And I continued, "It concerns events that took place in Tucson about fifty years ago"

and he said "ok"

and then I asked "is it possible that you were romantically involved with a woman by the name of Phyllis?"

and he said "well, yes"

and so I told him "sir, in that case there's a very strong likelihood that, even though I"m not sure how many children you have, but you may have one more than you know."

This was followed by a long silence and then he said,

"The only Robert Weir I know is the guy that sings and plays with the Grateful Dead."

And I said "well sir, that would be me."

So we arranged to meet the next day at a local restaurant of his suggestion which was coincidentally a favorite of both of ours, and we have become very, very close. We both share a singular inability to take anything seriously or an ability to make light of pretty nearly any situation. The more time we spend together the more similarities I see and realize that the apple does not fall far from the tree. And even though I didn¹t grow up with him, in many ways I am as much, if not more like him then is own sons.

On a weekly basis my family and I have been going up and staying with my father in Nevada where he now lives. We stay over for a night and each morning Grandpa cooks me and my family pancakes. Towards the beginning of this year he and his wife began to leave a guitar out that belonged to his eldest son who tragically died of Spinal Cancer some time ago. He had been a professional musician in a fairly successful band and had a collection of guitars when he died that the remaining sons divvied up but because nobody really wanted this one it was left behind with his parents.

They pulled it out of the closet and it was in a funky old case and it was just sitting in the corner of their home. Now I saw this case for a month of so and finally rose to the bait and opened it up and inside there was this beat up old Telecaster with one pickup kind of sprung out of it¹s moorings and broken up a little. So after looking at it for two or three weeks I finally said, "okay, I'll bite, can I take this to rehearsal with me and have my roadie / tech guy fix it up?' and they said

"we thought you'd never ask."

So I took it to him and he had it working in no time at all. And I plugged it into my rig (amplifier) at our first rehearsal for the tour. Now I had not even

picked up a Telecaster in years, let alone played one, but I started playing it and from the first note it was obvious, for me, for the band, for everyone

that the characteristically tin sound really was perfect and helped everything. It became my "A" guitar.

After no one wanting this guitar it fell out of the sky one me. All of the family, as

opposed to feeling forsaken, are really overjoyed at seeing a piece of their older brother and eldest son make it on the big stage.

The whole story is really a little bit of mysticism. The lesson I learned from my new dad is confirming for me that fate follows in your footsteps so you need to have faith in your path and live life with a sense of wonderment."

& Thanks to Dawn for posting this first!