#To the Ends of the Earth part 20

[ourloveisforthelovely]

To the Ends of the Earth Part 20

Supernatural

Pairings: Gabriel x Reader

Rating: Mature

Summary:  AU Supernatural. Gabriel is tired of Micahel and Raphael’s constant interfering and dictating what’s best for him. Little do they know that he’s been sneaking to earth to fall in love with you. When he convinces you to run away with him, all hell is about to break loose.

Part 19- link

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Neither Gabriel nor yourself said a word to each other the whole way back to the bunker. When Gabriel turned the car off, he looked at you sympathetically. Your eyes weren’t on him but at the car’s dashboard. He wanted to sight but didn’t. Gabriel wasn’t a fool. You were upset with him and honestly, he couldn’t blame you.

It didn’t take Gabriel being your soulmate to understand your feelings, yet also, be confused by them. You wanted him to be happy about the baby. What expectant mother wouldn’t want the child’s father to be happy? Gabriel understood that, but YOU didn’t understand that he couldn’t. He couldn’t be excited about some extraordinary being in the making that could destroy everything.

There is Jack…he’s good.

The thought came to Gabriel’s mind but he had to push it away too. Jack had to be that one exception. Gabriel wasn’t quite sure that his child would be “that good.”

There was also your safety. Regardless of the fact that Chuck swore to your safety, Gabriel was absolutely and positively terrified! He couldn’t even begin to phantom losing you. No part of his inner being could even think about how his life would be if something happened to you. If Gabriel lost you, he would want to die along with you. Forget raising a child that would scare the crap out of him!

You, meanwhile, hadn’t moved from your spot in the passenger seat by the time Gabriel opened your door for you. For a moment, you didn’t want to move. Sitting in the car and staring at the grey dashboard seemed to be exactly what you needed.

“Y/n…”

Gabriel said your name softly. He held out his hand to help you out of the SUV. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. After the conversation a few minutes prior, you couldn’t meet your lover’s gaze.

Am I being selfish? Did I even think of him?

These were a few of the thoughts going through your mind that you couldn’t push away. There were also the thoughts of what you “needed” too.

It will be a long nine months if he is going to bitch the whole time. I am going to need some support too…not constant condescending looks and comments…

Swallowing, you got out of the car without taking Gabriel’s hand. You heard Gabriel audibly groan as you walked past him to the entrance to the bunker.

“Y/n, you are going to have to talk to me at some point.”

You stopped and took a few deep breaths before turning to face Gabriel.

“Look, I get you were shocked by all of this. I was shocked too! Floored is more like it but it’s happening Gabriel. We had sex and you got me pregnant. Neither one of us was really planning it but it happened. I don’t know why Chuck does what he does but he paired us for a reason. I’m not giving this baby up nor am I going to regret what happened…because I don’t. You know…I’m feeling a lot of things none of which you seem to understand…hell even I don’t understand all of what I’m feeling. I’m not asking you to be over the moon with what's happening because you were entitled to your feelings too but what I want is some support. You’re supposed to be my soul mate and be on my side.”

Gabriel winced seeing the tears in your eyes. He absolutely hated knowing that he was the one making you cry.

“Y/n, I am on your side. I’m always on your side.”

You wiped your cheeks.

“It doesn’t feel like it. If I am going to spend the next nine months wondering what I am to you while you glare at me…I would rather you just go. You can find someone else to fall in love with.”

Gabriel looked floored by your comment. Did you really think that he would consider leaving? That was the LAST thing that Gabriel could even consider doing. If he left you then you would die. Your blood would be on his hands and he would never be able to live with that.

“I don’t want anyone else to love. I fell in love with you and that is all that I need…”

You turned to walk inside.

“I need some time alone.”

You murmured. Gabriel didn’t move to follow you.

“That’s probably a good idea. I’ll be back later I need to have some time to too.”

When you turned back around, Gabriel was gone. It was as if he had never been standing behind you in the first place.

Why did I say that to him?

You grumbled before turning and walking back into the bunker. Feeling 100% worse than you did before, the prospect of falling into your bed and never moving again seemed like a great idea.

Sam looked up when you came down the steps. He immediately stood up and looked at you with a worried expression.

“Where is Gabriel?”

You couldn’t meet your brother’s gaze for a moment. Looking around the room, you wondered where Dean had made off too. Something told you that you would be having to face his fury very soon too. You definitely needed a heads up on when that would happen. With Gabriel not being there to come in on your behalf, you would have to try to reason with Dean on why going through with the pregnancy was the best option. Something told you that saying “this is what I want” wouldn’t fly with your eldest brother.

“He took off. We had some words and we both need some space. Where’s Dean?”

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. It didn’t take him being your brother to realize how upset you were. Your eyes were like a window to your soul…a window that Sam had to use more than he was really willing to admit to.

“He went on a beer run.”

You nodded. That didn’t surprise you. It also wouldn’t surprise you that you would take up to Dean tearing the place apart in a drunken rage.

“I’m not surprised.”

You replied as Sam pressed his lips together.

“Are you okay, Y/n?”

Your eyes rolled up to your brother. Sam was looking at you with eyes full of concern.

“Did you know that you are the first person in all of this that has asked me that?”

Sam frowned. He mentally made a note to tell Dean and Gabriel both off later. While he understood both men’s reactions, neither really behaved the way that they needed to. Sure, Sam was horrified by the road that you were choosing to take…however, it was your choice. He couldn’t make you elect to have Gabriel take the baby away. Sam couldn’t make you do anything. You were a grown woman and what you chose would be what he would accept. Sam could only pray that Chuck lived up to his end of the bargain and wouldn’t let you die.

“I’m sorry. I can’t make excuses for Dean or Gabriel but you should have been asked about your feelings before. Y/n, I’m not going to pretend that I’m not worried because I’m scared to death. I don’t want to lose you but I respect your decision. I’ll do whatever I can to keep you safe.”

Sam walked over and immediately pulled you into a hug. You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around your brother. Breathing Sam in, for the first time, you felt somewhat better. Someone was in your corner.

“I wish that Dean and Gabriel could see things that way.”

Sam kissed the top of your head. He made a mental note to let both men have it when they came home.

“I know. Me too. Maybe when the shock wears off, they’ll come to their senses. They both love you so much, Y/n.”

You wanted to nod in agreement but you couldn’t respond. Your better sense of self knew that Sam was right. Both Gabriel and Dean loved you. The less sensible “Mary Sue” side was still in depression over their reactions.

“I hope so. I’m going to go lie down and watch TV.”

Sam slowly let you go. He wanted to talk more but decided now wasn’t the time.

(meanwhile)

Gabriel sat across from Lucifer at a crappy little diner across town. He wasn’t 100% sure why he came to Lucifer but he did. Gabriel sat telling Lucifer everything while his elder brother frowned.

“So you are telling me that pop decided that Ms. Pretty and yourself are having a baby?”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

“That’s what I said.”

Lucifer was silent a moment as he considered his words. It was no secret to Lucifer about what Chuck’s plans were when it came to you. Lucifer was baffled when Chuck made the grand scheme to pair his younger brother with a human. As far as Lucifer was concerned, Gabriel was a good enough soldier. Throwing him into the thoroughs of love with a human woman seemed to be a bit of a downgrade.

“I’m sorry. I just needed to make sure that I heard you right and wasn’t imagining things. Wow, you're the one to knock up Ms. Pretty.”

Gabriel frowned, reminding Lucifer of the archangel that Gabriel used to be.

“Would you stop calling her that? Who else would it be? I’m her soulmate after all.”

Lucifer snorted.

“You sound so ancient right now. I don’t pretend to know why pop is doing this. I no longer try to make sense of that. How is Y/n taking it? You are acting as if the world is about to end…or whatever else it is you get upset about. You’ve always had a bit of a temper.”

“Oh, I have a temper do I? Aren’t you Satan?”

Gabriel snapped. Lucifer shook his head before holding a hand up.

“This isn’t about me. This is about you! You are having a baby with a human. Not only is that not good but you are about to have both of our dork brothers on your ass.”

“You have a child too who coincidentally my wife looks after so you are in the wrong as much as me.”

Lucifer laughed at that one.

“As you said, little brother, I am Satan.”

Neither archangel said anything for a moment. Gabriel sat wondering why in the fresh hell he even bothered with Lucifer. All that it seemed to be achieving was upsetting him worse with each passing moment.

“Look, Gabe, you are overreacting. If you want Ms. Pretty…I mean…Y/n to survive…there are ways. Use that grace that pop gave you. You’re her soul mate…keep her safe.”

“You didn’t keep Jack’s mother safe.”

Gabriel replied, earning a scowl from Lucifer.

“We weren’t on good terms. Again, this isn’t about me. What are you going to do about Michael and Raphael? I mean, Raphael is heaven’s glorified gardener. You could leave some plants out and totally distract him. Michael, however, well that won’t be pretty. He is still feeling biblical over Jack.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. It was clear that Lucifer had no idea about Raphael being dead.

“Raphael is dead, so I don’t have to worry about him. As far as Michael, he is the one that I am worried about. That’s why I am here talking to you. I’m sure I can keep my wife safe but two archangels would be better than one. We were close once upon a time. You leaving heaven devastated me whether you care about that fact or not.”

Lucifer leaned back in his chair. He wasn’t a fool. When he left heaven and the few times that Gabriel visited him on earth, he could see right through his younger brother’s “tough guy” façade.

“Let me get this straight, you want me to help you? You are coming to me for help with your problems? Wow, that hasn’t happened in millions of years and I am flattered. However, what does Y/n say about all of this? She really isn’t a pro-Luci person.”

“She doesn’t know.”

Lucifer once again looked surprised.

“You are going to have a hell of a time explaining that one to her. Gabriel, you were always my favorite. You always were and you always will be. I’m willing to help you but I’ll warn you…those Winchesters won’t be happy about it.”

Gabriel took a breath. He was no fool. Gabriel knew that you wouldn’t be happy at all. You hadn’t really forgotten how Lucifer had done your family.

“No, they won’t be but we need all of the help that we can get.”

Lucifer had to agree with that one. While he had no idea what “child rearing” involved (and he really didn’t want to find out), Lucifer knew that Gabriel was in over his head on this one.

“So what happened to Raphael?”

Gabriel chuckled at that one.

“Y/n killed him. Maybe that can be an incentive to not tick her off too much.”

Lucifer blinked a few times.

“I knew that girl had style.”

(a few hours later)

You lay sleeping on the couch. After starting a movie, you quickly fell asleep. All of the drama of the day had finally caught up with you. Your peaceful slumber, however, was interrupted when you felt a pair of arms lift you up.

“What?”

You said sleepily before slowly opening your eyes. Gabriel was carrying you bridal style toward your bedroom.

“It's alright, sugar.”

You snuggled your face against Gabriel’s collarbone and breathed in his scent. For the first time in that horrid day, you felt somewhat better.

Gabriel closed the door with his foot before gently lying you down on the unmade bed. You shoved your face into the pillow until Gabriel snapped the lights out. From his place by the door, he could see the sad expression on your face.

…She is still hurt.

Gabriel rolled his eyes at the rather stupid comment going through his mind. Of course, you were still hurt.

Taking a moment longer, Gabriel slowly got into bed with you.

“Come here, sugar.”

You didn’t hesitate to crawl over into Gabriel’s arms. As much as you wanted to be able to play hard to get, you also wanted to snuggle into your soulmate and never move again. The moment that you were against Gabriel he wrapped his arms around you.

Neither of you spoke a moment. It was Gabriel that spoke first.

“Sugar, about all of this…we really need to talk.”

You sniffed again. Gabriel froze. He once again was afraid that you were about to start crying.

“Y/n, I knew from the moment that I saw you that I loved you more than any being known to angel kind. I know you are angry with me and I don’t blame you. I, however, don’t think that you truly understand how afraid I am.”

Your eyes slowly rolled up to Gabriel.

“You aren’t scared of anything…except spiders.”

Gabriel frowned.

“You did not see the size of that spider! Contrary to your, much-appreciated belief, a lot of things scare me. You scare me. The thought of losing you and me being alone to raise our baby scares me. Y/n, I can’t stop thinking about what if I lose you. I spent millions of years waiting for you and so many more looking after you until we actually met. I don’t want to face the thought of the rest of forever alone.”

You stroked your finger over Gabriel’s chest before throwing a leg over his waist.

“I’m not going to die. We’ll figure this out…somehow. There has to be a spell or something. Cas has this theory about using your grace to get me through labor. We have time to figure something out. As far as Michael is concerned…”

Gabriel took a breath before speaking.

“Michael is the least of my worries right now. Can we not talk about him right? I’m worried about us. Y/n, I’m not mad that you’re pregnant. I suppose something told me that you would end up pregnant at some point anyway. No matter how careful I am there was always the possibility that it could happen.”

You smiled.

“Because once you get inside of me you turn into a needy manwhore?”

You were relieved to hear Gabriel chuckle.

“That is one way of looking at it.”

Gabriel placed his hand over your stomach before moving his fingers over your hipbones. He closed his eyes as the sound of the baby’s heart beating filled his mind. Gabriel took a few deep breaths as a new feeling washed over him. So this was what the paternal protective parent felt like.

I have to be feeling like a father to be willing to go to my brother for help.

Gabriel thought with a frown. He was quickly pulled from his thoughts when your lips closed on his neck.

“What are you doing, sugar?”

You quickly wiggled your way on top of Gabriel, looking down at him with a smirk.

“We should probably enjoy my body looking the way it does now…something tells me that I will look like hell before long.”

Gabriel snapped his fingers turning the lights back on. He was looking at you with a frown.

“You’ll be just as beautiful as you are now. You’re always my beautiful wife.”

“You say that now.”

You replied. Gabriel was quiet a moment before quickly flipping the position so he was on top of you. You gasped as Gabriel’s hands fell to cup your breasts.

“Gabriel, please…”

You whimpered as he rocked his hips against yours. Golden eyes rolled to yours as Gabriel leaned down to lick your bottom lip.

“I’m going to make you feel good. You thought that the sex was good that night in the car. I’m really going to make you come apart now.”

You moaned before reaching between your bodies to palm Gabriel through his jeans. When he groaned, you smiled.

“Let's have at least one good memory from today.”

Gabriel gave you a small smirk before snapping away your clothes. He looked down at your naked form before biting his lips. You looked like a total goddess lying beneath him.

You cried out when Gabriel leaned down to lick and suck at your right nipple while his fingers expertly teased your left. Make-up sex with Gabriel often made your disagreements worth it. From the time that the both of you decided to be together, Gabriel seemed to be perfect at makeup sex. He was perfect at sex in general and it often wowed you. You had been a bit embarrassed to still be a virgin the first time that Gabriel touched you.

“Now sugar, that’s what I love the most. My dick has been the only one inside of you.”

Gabriel said with a cocky smirk as he kissed his way down your body. You bit your lip as heat ran through your belly. With each movement of Gabriel’s lips, the want radiated through your body making your cunt ache with need.

“Something tells me that you are already wet.”

Gabriel said with an innocent hum.

“Yes…so wet…Gabriel, please. I need you inside of me.”

Gabriel chuckled to himself and moved no further to have his way with you. He watched your body withering to meet his mouth. When Gabriel stroked a finger over your folds down to your entrance, you could have come from that alone.

“So I heard that pregnancy hormones make you want sex a lot more.”

Gabriel commented as his golden eyes rolled up to your face. He was pleased to see how surprised you were by that statement. Swallowing, you tried to think logically.

“I’m surprised at you, Gabriel. You are already hearing things correctly.”

Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“It's amazing what archangels hear and what information we hold onto. I suppose we will be seeing a lot of this room.”

“Or whatever flat surface I want you to fuck me on.”

You interrupted. Gabriel smirked.

“Anytime that you want it, sugar.”

_______

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[autism-disco]

sometimes i am just filled with so much love for people and the world around me and everything and it is inexpressible

[saymio]

Silent Obsession

Pairing: Hwang In-ho (the front man) x Fem!reader

Summary: your husband was missing, and all you did for days was stay at home crying your eyes out...waiting for your dearest husband to come home. this was until inho had decided to come give you a little visit while you were all alone and vulnerable.

Warning: dead dove: do not eat, noncon, degradation, light bdsm, manipulation, In-ho is obsessed with you, rough sex, mentioned age gap (20 years), cheating (not rlly), there might be more but I'm too lazy to write it.

A/N: not proof read. this takes place during s1. (most/all of the beginning contains junho x reader content)

7.2k Words

...

it was 2015, just a few days ago your boyfriend junho had invited you to meet his family on the day of his brothers birthday. his brother was turning 40 and they were hosting a small party, just a few people... and your boyfriend thought this would be a great time to invite you to meet his mom and brother. he was ecstatic at the thought, he really wanted his family to get to know you since last year he had met yours. and he was really serious about you... but it would be an understatement to say you were nervous. hell, you were scared. you wanted to leave a good impression on his family, this was the man you wanted to marry. if his mom didnt approve of you what could you say? she was wrong? that her opinion didn't matter? these thoughts swarmed your head for hours every day....

junho was driving the two of you from your small shared apartment to his moms place. you were sitting in the passenger seat as you stared out the window of the car, you were shaking... not from the cold but from the anxiousness you were brimming with. your fingers tapped against the interior of the car, your nails making a clicking sound every time they touched the material. "are you cold y/n? I told you itd be cold today..you should've worn a bigger jacket" junho glanced at you for a second before staring back at the road and sighing. he hated when this happened, when youd be so insistent in not 'ruining' your outfit that you wouldn't pay attention to whether you'd be cold or not. this always happens! ..but he always wears a jacket for you. because he knows you'll end up shivering from the cold gusts of wind and he cant stand the thought of you suffering from the freezing temperatures. you let out a small chuckle, it was barely over a whisper but junho heard you loud and clear. "why're you laughing.." he frowned a little, not because he's upset or mad at you but just because you werent taking the situation that seriously. "what if you catch a cold? at least think about me when you dress this way..you know I hate when you're in pain.." the last part of his sentence was soft and quiet, as if he was murmuring to himself..making sure you wouldn't hear him. "stop worrying so much babe...I'm not cold or anything.. just a little jittery, its my first time meeting your family after all." you giggled at his genuine worry for you, he was such a drama queen. making these small actions seem so much more serious then they were..but its something that made you love junho. how kind and protecting he was of the people he cared about. "nervous? you don't have to be nervous y/n...I'm sure they'll love you." junho's right hand made its way to your left hand. holding it tight before giving you a soft gentle smile. his ability to sooth you with just his smile had to be studied, he truly was an angel on earth to you, like he had a halo on his head 24/7. you leaned forward a little and left a quick peck on his cheek, quickly leaning back down to your seat and looking away from him. but at the corner of junhos eyes he could see how red you've gotten...he thought it was adorable. how the two of youve been dating for 2 years but you still got flustered over small kisses. you were so innocent and kind, the exact woman he needed in his life...

but little did junho know, he was right. his family did love you..especially his brother.

you had arrived at his mothers house, .. your nerves were spiking, how should you introduce yourself? what if the cake you made was still raw? what if inho doesn't like his present? these thoughts ran through your head as you two waited for someone to open the door. your finger nails tapping against the box the cake you had made was in. the sound deafening you as you just wanted the damn door to open already. you really just hoped youd make a good impression... after what felt like an eternity the door opened, behind to door revealed the birthday boy himself, Hwang In-ho. junho just shook his hand before you bowed at him slightly before shaking his hand and introducing himself briefly. "happy birthday In-ho, my names y/n" In-ho just nodded coldly at you, if the harsh winds outside didn't freeze you his stares did. he stepped aside, allowing the two of you in. he lead the both of you up the apartment complex stairs, your heels making a loud click sound echo though the staircase with every step you took. after only a bit of walking up stairs you had reached the door to where the party was being hosted.. . . when junho had told you itd be a 'party' you expected a family gathering with like 15 people, but upon arrival you quickly realized..it was truly just him, his brother and mom celebrating inho's birthday today. you were pleasantly surprised, you hated large groups of people..it made you skittish and always super nervous. so just 3 other people being there calmed your nerves down, alot. the apartment was small and cozy, very homey and nice. his mother had made a mini feast with delicious foods and decorated the place with a few balloons and banners. it was a seemingly wholesome sight of a mother doing something nice for her sons special day, it made your heart warm up inside your chest as you took a seat at the table. "hi honey, what's your name?" junho's mother grabbed one of your hands, cupping it with the both of hers. you felt yourself blush and smile, you had barely even been inside yet his mother was being so kind already. her soft gentle voice, and kind soft eyes. it was everything that's junho was. "y/n, what about you miss?" you were trying your best to be as polite as possible, you didn't want to tip her off and cause her to hate you.. but you felt kind of uncomfortable.. inho..he was staring at you alot. and it was like he wasnt trying to hide it, his dark eyes piecing into your soul. as if he were looking for the innocence inside of you... to take it away from you. the entire day just led to you getting more and more uncomfortable. you weren't able to stare into his eyes because you felt if you did he would just jump onto you not giving a shit about his mother and brother being there too. "y/n, what would you say if your favorite thing about junho?" inho spoke, his deep voice sent uncomfortable shivers down your spine.. this entire atmosphere..it was odd. but it was like only you caught onto it. you stared at inho before turning to junho...he was blushing. he tried keeping a stoic face but you could tell he was getting flustered before you even spoke. his ears tinted in a light pink an so was his neck. "ah.. well his kindness..I think its the main reason I fell in love...he's very kind and soft spoken to people. at least until they do something wrong..but either way he's an angel." a gentle smile took over your face, you stared at junho and then at inho to continue your sentence..it was obvious you were head over heels for this man.. "he's just a very likable man." inho smiled at you, not speaking a word but it was like his face said them all for you. but they weren't the words you'd expect a caring older brother to say, it was more like a .. 'wow how nice.' but in a sarcastic tone.. his mother on the other hand.. "aww how sweet! young love, its so beautiful." she clasped her hands together before grabbing your forearm and staring up at you with twinkling eyes, it was like she was already envisioning your wedding and family with junho. "promise me you'll take care of my son, okay?"

it was a little past 10pm by now, everyone had eaten a slice of cake and junho's mother adored it. junho was right, his mom did love you. she was already talking about marriage and how she wouldnt be surprised if you made the wedding cake because the one you had brought today was "just too delicious!" you laughed and giggled at her antics, your face flushed in embarrassment. you turned to look at inho, who was staring at you intensely. your happiness almost instantly vanished as you shuffled in your chair. maybe he was upset you hadn't given him his gift yet...that should do it!! maybe he'd stop once you did. "a- inho, I brought you a gift." his eyes widened and it had seemed like he just heard life changing news, maybe he really was just sulking over a present..it was kind of cute. you grabbed your bag from your feet next to you and shuffled around until you found a yellow box, you pushed it towards inho and smiled. your tried your best to give a genuine, heartfelt smile even though you felt uncomfortable with all his glances and stares. he smiled at you, this time it seemed a little less fake...but still not genuine. he opened the box, it was a watch. a very beautiful one. it was shimmering under the dinning room light, a light white silver with simple but detailed engravings on the band of the watch. it was beautiful and it definitely wasn't the cheapest, you don't remember how much it was exactly since you had bought it the same day junho had told you about his brothers birthday..but you knew it was enough to make you wince at the receipt. "I left the receipt folded under the cloth Incase it isn't to your li-" you were cut off by inhos voice, it was calm, not as cold as it was before..it was rather soothing even.. "no. its perfect." he put the watch on, adjusting it so it fit his wrist perfectly. you felt your lips creep into a wide smile, you were so glad this day was going perfectly. "wow, that's such a pretty watch! it must've costed you a lot." their mother interrupted the two of you, staring at the watch that sat on inhos wrist and then at you. "inho, say thank you! be polite." she hit the back of his head harshly, as if she were scolding a little kid... you laughed at the scene, mothers truly see their children as their babies forever. "no- its okay miss don't wo-" it seemed like today was full of interruptions and cut offs as inho did just it again. "thank you y/n, I appreciate it a lot." his face was blank again, no readable expression was there.. but based off his passed reactions..you felt he was being sincere. . . . "thank you miss, thank you inho." you bowed at the both of them while you stood at the front door with junho, showing your gratitude for their kindness and patience with you and your boyfriend. "of course honey, please come back any time you want." junho's mother grabbed your hand one more time, inho nodded along with her. he wasn't a man of many words but it seemed his scary demeanor had vanished. maybe it was never even there and you were just nervous..either way you were glad you didn't leave the house with a weird feeling about your boyfriends brother. juho's mother then shoo'd the two of you away, telling you it was late and you shouldn't stay up so late at such a young age... you felt happy. a warm feeling sat in your heart and stomach, it was like you had just found your second family.

time skip (5 years)

there you sat in the police station, its been days since youve last seen your husband. you were sobbing into the palm of your hands, the salty liquid dripped onto your long dress as you drained ever drop of water from your body. you were terrified. what happened to him?? where was he?? what had he gotten into? you were devastated to say the least, you explained with a shaky and quaky voice that your husband had just told you he was off to investigate his brothers vanishment and would be back by the night..like always! so when you woke up and he wasn't there you just felt dread. you texted him and texted him all day to no response. when he didn't come back for the second day you reported him missing. you reported this story to the police about 9 times already, everyday since you reported him missing you came to the police station for any clues or help..an obviously everyday they told you the same thing...that they had nothing. the only reason they didn't push you off to the side when you came in was well..because your husband worked for them. he was a police officer under them, it'd feel disrespectful to you and junho if they just told you to give up hope on finding your husband. maybe you'd stop after another week or two..you'd realize whatever fate inho had found was the same junho ended to aswell... and not only that but you were pretty, kind and in obvious distress over your husband. they'd feel like they just kicked a sick puppy in the stomach if they told you to go away. so every day, at 8am you come in. usually in a pretty sundress but your state of mind isn't as pretty. your eye bags were prominent and you seemed to constantly be in a state of dissociation.... "you promise there's nothing? please double check! please..I need my husband back. you don't understand" your words were exasperated and rushed, you wanted answers, your husband, closure, anything! your breaths were getting heavy as you reached your delicate hand to the tissue box on the desk infront of you. you felt yourself breaking down, more and more, every. day. the police officer let out a breathy sigh, he was trying his very best to not tell you off. to tell you to go back to your home and cry there or something. to stop wasting his time every single fucking day.. but he couldn't. and he wouldn't. not when your state was some of the worst he's seen in his years of being an officer. "listen ma'am, there seems to be a dead end a-" you slammed your hand onto the table, one still holding the now damp tissue as you started to cry harder. you shook your head violently, indicating a very obvious no...or in this case obvious denial. "no. there..there isn't a dead end. he's alive and he needs your help!! please..please keep searching i-i'll.." you started to dig into your purse, the same one junho had gifted you for your 5th anniversary not long before this whole ordeal. when you felt what you were looking for you snatched it out your bag, like it was grabbing it, stealing it from your grasp. "h-here..d-dont stop searching please. I'll give you this..p-please.." in between words you started to cry more, tears streaming down your cheeks and dripping off your skin. your head was lowered and you were looking at your lap. you didn't want to stop looking for him. you wouldn't stop until you knew he was safe. "ma'am...you don't have to give me money for doing my job." he slid the stack of money that you had taken from your purse back to you and shook his head in disapproval. "listen.. sigh we're trying our best okay? we arent just laying around doing nothing, he was our coworker and we want to find him as much as you do.." he looked away from your depressing state, you were catching your breath and shaking, your fists were curled into balls. it was clear, even though he was an officer that he didn't want to find junho nearly as much as you did..he didn't think it would even be possible to. "just..take a break. you're overwhelming yourself and it isn't good for you. junho is strong and you know this, so just believe in him and his ability to live..."

the officer opened a drawer that was next to his seat, it was a little pile of candies.. he grabbed a handful and handed you a few. with a shaky hand you took the candies, your eyes were red and puffy. it was painfully obvious that you had just broken down in tears. you didnt want to speak but it was obvious by the way you acted, that all you wanted right now was for your husband to come back into your embrace. "if you want I can step out and let you calm down." the officer stares at you, awaiting the answer that would leave your lips. "no..its okay.. i-...whatever. thank you, I will take a break to calm down and compose myself. please have a good day." you mumbled the first few words, like a scared child who had just gotten caught with their hand in the cookie jar and is now making up an excuse. you let out a loud sigh before you stood up from your chair, rubbing your tired, sore eyes before fixing your hair and grabbing your bag. you turned around right as you were in front of the office door, you bowed at the officer to show your gratitude as you proceeded to touch the cold metal handle of the door and creaked it open. with a click of the door closing you were walking away from the room you had just broken down in.

there you were, sitting on the edge of the bed you and your husband shared. it felt cold every time you sunk your body into the soft mattress..cold and empty. you weren't used to this, you were used to your husband coming home from work and giving you a kiss. slipping into the soft blankets together as you worked as heaters for each other's bodies. you didn't like this. you didn't want this. you flopped your upper torso onto the bed, causing it to make a squeaking sound to the sudden pressure. your legs were dangling off the side of the bed as you stared up into the ceiling. the world around you felt hazy, like everything that surrounded your body was just an empty void of nothingness. the world was meaningless without junho. you felt your eyes getting heavier and heavier...until they had finally closed shut.

knock... knock... knock you jolted up from your bed, who was here at this time? it's like 2am... you stared at the closed bedroom door, thinking about if it was a good idea to open the doorm. you're a young woman alone at her house at 2am...what if it was a sex trafficker trying to kidnap and rape you!!?? knock... knock... knock the loud but slow knocks echoed throughout the house, the knocks took a 3 second pause inbetween..it was so creepy.. it made your skin crawl.. bu...what if...what if the police have clues about junho and came to talk to you about it they heard of it!! or..what if junho had finally come home..... these thoughts rand through your head, you were scared of what might be behind of that door. but not scared enough to not open it. you slowly got up from your bed, making it squeak under the pressure of your body. your soft slippers made a swooshing sound against the wooden floors as you shuffled your way to the front door... knock... knock.... knock there it was...the knocking. you couldn't help but feel this dry lump from in your throat, but you had to do it...you needed to make sure... if it was some stranger you'd just slam the door on them and go and hide in a closet or something.. your swallowed the lump in your throat and placed your palm on the cold metal of the handle, unlocking it with a small click and turning it clockwise so that it opened the door.. you didn't open it alot, just enough to see who was on the other side. your eyes stared at the dark soulless eyes In front of you, it was a random man. you had no idea why he was here or what he wanted..but he looked very familiar..maybe he was an off duty cop that just wanted to check up on you..? "h-hello..? how can I help you..." your voice was small and quiet, barely above a whisper as you used the door as some kind of shield from the strange man. "yes. you can." you stared up at the man with confused puppy dog eyes, what did that even mean?? you furrowed your eyebrows and squinted your eyes as you stared at him..you were about to close the door on the strange man until something clicked inside of you. you recognized where he was from.. "inho?! w-what? what are you.." your judgmental facial expression quickly changed into one of shook and worry, was he here to see junho? how would you break the news that his brother was now missing too?? you raised your small hand to your mouth, covering it in shock..you didn't even know what to do....what should you say..? your eyes started to water and tear up, you were reminded of the harsh reality junho was in..he was seriously missing and now the person he went missing looking for was In front of you...it seemed like everyone was just against you. mocking the disappearance of your husband. "what...are you doing here? a-are you here for junho..he's.." you let out choked sighs after every other word, taking your hands from your mouth to your entire face. you were a crying mess In front of a man you barely knew, it was so embarrassing. you were so pathetic and sad. everyone's been telling you to just get over it but here you are, sobbing for what felt like the 6th time today. a loud sigh snapped you out of your saddened state,, but...it wasn't a sigh of disapproval or frustration...it was like a sigh of...desire. like he was getting off to the sight your sobbing, scared and fragile body. "you're doing this on purpose, you have to be." you stared up at inho with confusion. you eyebrow was raised, as if asking him what the fuck he meant by that. before you could even mutter a word he pushed you, really harshly. you went flying back into your home, head hitting the hard wood. you felt yourself getting dizzier and dizzier for a few seconds...you felt like you couldn't move, speak or even see anymore...your head was spinning and alarms were ringing from the inside of your head..until you were passed out.

you woke up... you were sitting in the middle of the dining room, it seemed like someone had moved the table and other chairs out the way as it was literally only you. you and the chair you were sitting on. the room was barely lit up, you could only see some of your surroundings due to the singular light that was on. the ligh that bulb was right on top of you..it felt like you were about to get interrogated for murder,,you were terrified. for you wanted to scream, cry and just run away from what was happening. but you couldn't. your ankles were tied onto the legs of the chair. your arms and torso were bounded to the chair itself with a thick rope., it was digging into your skin hard..it hurt. alot.. you wanted to squirm around and get yourself free but you knew you'd just end up knocking the chair down and you'd be stuck in an awkward position..you tried to start screaming but you couldnt, you were confused..it was like your mouth was glued shut.....your eyes darted around the room, looking for anyone, anything to help you. it took you a second for you to put the pieces together but.. once you did you realized.. your mouth was duck taped shut. you didn't know what to do, you were overwhelmed and you just wanted your husband back to you. you closed your eyes shut as warm salty tears fell from your eyes. your eyes just couldn't catch a break, could they? they were tired and sore. even when you werent sleepy it hurt to open and close the..a result of crying for days.. you just wanted to feel happiness again. but clearly that wasn't going to happen soon. was your fate going to be the same as your husbands? were his kidnappers after you to sew your mouth shut?? you didn't want to die..at least not because you got closure.. "you shouldn't cry Infront of me. its a bad idea. I have a thing for little girls that look pretty when they cry." your head jumped forward, looking at the figure that had stepped out the shadows surrounding you.. your eyes widened, remembering that inho had been the one that knocked you over and caused you to black out. the same man that had gone missing 5 years ago, the same man that your brother went missing looking for.. what was he doing here? was he here to kill you? to keep you silent? to assault you? thoughts rand through your head as he took large, slow steps towards you. as if he was mocking your frightened state. he reached his right hand out towards you, your eyes landed on the silver watch he was wearing. it seemed so similar to the one you had gifted all those years ago..but no way he would still be wearing it, right? before you could even process another thought his hand gripped at your hair, pulling your head back and forcing you to literally stare up at him. the roughness of his grip made you wince in pain..he didn't come here with intentions of being nice and if you didn't realize that person you definitely realized that now. you tried to scream and kick your feet, you knew the tape and rope would stop your attempts and make them useless but you still tried. your screams just came out as diluted, muffled noises. the tape had stopped you from making any loud noises... the chair under your only shook a little but it wasn't enough to lighten the grip inho had on your hair. his dark, soulless eyes stared you down. they were like black orbs, nothing behind them. he grinned at you, like he was watching a cartoon and a character had did something funny. he was laughing at you. he thought this was funny. "you look so stupid, you do know that the tape will just silence all your screams, right? or are you too young and dumb to understand that yet." he tilted his head at you and gave you a mockingly confused expression. he was having the time of his fucking life while you were here, scared for your damn life. you glared at him, trying to intimidate him..doing anything to scare him...trying to find the little humanity in him that feels sympathy was clearly never going to happen. so you had to try another approach..even if it wasn't going to work either... and your suspicions were right ..

he just smiled at you, another mockingly fake smile... he released his hand from the grip he had on your hair and pinched your cheeks, just as roughly as he did with your hair. leaving a red mark when he let go... it was like he was treating you like you were a pouting child, stomping your feet because your mom didn't let you buy the comically huge lollipop you really wanted. "youre not scary sweetie." the pet name made you want to throw up in your mouth. he knew well you were his sister in law but here he was, calling you pet names with his disgusting voice. " you know..ive had my eyes on you since i met you...you're just so gorgeous..and delicate." he took a short but slow walk around u and stopped to stand behind you. his cold hands reached to your face and covered your eyes. you couldn't see anything but you knew he was leaned up in your ear...you could feel his hot breath making you unnervingly uncomfortable. "I just wanna ruin you." your breathe hitched in your throat, he was going to rape you. you know it, you had to fight back, you had to. you couldn't let a man that wasn't your husband put his dick inside you. inho took his cold hands away from your face and walked back in front of you. you glanced down at his crotch and...there was a bulge...he was getting off to your scared shape. he truly was an emotionless sadist.. he held up his index finger to your covered lips. "shh. make any noise and I wont think twice about killing you and your husband." your eyes widened as you heard the last part...that meant your husband was alive..and he knew where he was. you nodded slowly, complying with his words. he ripped the piece of tape off your mouth, causing you to let out a yelp in pain. you stared at him with a frightened face, you realized you had just made a loud sound...you didn't want to die you didn't..you didn't want your husband to die! "I said. be quiet." the truth with inho was, he had already killed your husband..at least he thought he did. only a day ago did he shot junho, causing him to fall off the side of the island...he probably drowned and is floating lifeless in the sea right now.. but you didnt need to know that...and it was clear you weren't even aware. your mouth was shut and you tried to silence your heavy rapid breathing....you really did love your husband..he wanted to steal that love from junhos grasp. he leaned down, his face was now perfectly aligned with yours... you wanted to say something, you wanted to scream and cry but if you did he'd kill you...you knew he would... his left hand started to rub your cheek, it was gentle and warm but it just made you hate it even more...his fake kindness. you hated it. his lips connected with yours, at first it seemed like he was trying to be gentle but it was obvious he had quickly gotten bored of it before he got rough. your teeth were clashing with each other as he shoved his tongue into your mouth. exploring every inch of it before he started to nip at your lips...he was aggressive and messy. everything junho wasn't.. this wasn't the kind of kiss you wanted or craved. you felt like your eyes were sewn shut the way you refused to open them, you didn't want to stare at inho. you just wanted this to end..maybe once it did you'd finally have your husband back. after what felt like hours of making out he has finally took his chapped lips off of your soft ones. a string of saliva connected the two of you as he caught his breath. you opened your eyes to stare at him, they were watery..your tears were pricking at the corners of your eyes as you caught your breath. to inho you eyes were like glass marbles...and he wanted to shatter them into pieces. you took deep breaths in an attempt to calm down. if you were calm it wouldn't be as bad. you read this inside your mind over and over and over again. you just prayed he would use you quickly and then leave... "you know, that day..the day where junho has brought you to our mothers house for my birthday.." his eyes wandered away from you, as if he were recalling the day in exact detail, scene by scene...

his eyes snapped back to yours, holding intense eye contact until he continued his sentence... "when I asked you what you loved most about junho you told me you loved his kindness. you said he was a soft person..an angel in your eyes." he crouched down, staring at you with intense eyes. his sharp features were like daggers, stabbing one by one into your heart. "you told me you loved something about him that I lacked. I'm not a kind person. and right now..you probably think I'm the devil instead of an angel like my brother.." he smiled at you, it was a cold, fake smile. if you touched his face right now it'd probably be ice cold.. "thats how I knew someone like you would never willingly be with a man like me.. but it's okay, I'll just force myself onto you." you started to cry, the salty liquid streamed down from your cheeks to your chin. your eyes were red and puffy, you didn't know what to do. you didn't want to be with this man, you didn't want this. inhos left head reached to your face, this time he squeezed the both of your cheeks so that your lips were puckered at him. "got it, princess?" he leaned in to kiss you again, this time he went aggressive right away. forcing his tongue into your mouth, some of your tears dripped onto his mouth. letting him taste the saltiness of your sadness. and it was delicious.

there you sat, he had freed your ankles from the restraints on the chair. nipping and licking at your clit. you hated this, you couldn't stop crying. you felt disgusting, a man that wasn't your husband was licking and eating your pussy out. why would you let this happen? at this point death felt better than breaking your husbands heart. you lets out cries and soft no's as he slurped your juices. you hated that it felt good, you hated that he knew what he was doing. your moans and mewls filled the room, followed with wet sloppy sounds of spit and cum mixed together. he's been eating you out for what felt like hours, you've probably came like 3 times already. you were getting tired..your legs were shaky, trying to close in on themselves but inhos arms kept them wide open for you. "p-please stop. I don't like thi-this...ah...please..let me go already..please.." you were begging with him, your eyes were shaky, your face was flushed and your lips were wet from his aggressive kisses. god. the scene of you begging for him to stop as he abused your clit was one he wanted engraved in his mind forever. he let go of your pussy with a loud pop, your juices and his spit was all over his mouth and chin. he looked like a wild animal that had just eaten his prey alive. with his sleeve he wiped off the liquid on his face. 'ruining' his all black jacket. "you want me to stop but your cum is all over my face and lips. you want me to stop but you keep moaning. just admit you're a slut for me." you close your eyes shut, shaking your head viciously, you don't want him. you don't want this. you just want your husband to be safe. that's all you want... inho scoffs at you, as if you were lying to his face. maybe he truly did believe you wanted this..that you wanted him.. but you knew it wasn't true, you knew that you loved junho and that you werent fighting back back because you just wanted him back.. you'd break down in tears in his arms once he comes home, you'll explain it when he's home. he'd understand..right..? you were lost in your thoughts, but reality snapped you out of them.. 2 long fingers were inside of your core, curling and pumping in and out... it hurt so much. it was nothing like you were used to, slow paced and gentle..no..it was fast and rough. you let out a cry, you were in so much pain it made you want to go insane. the rope that was still tied around your arms and waist dug into your skin, burning you as you struggled under the restraints..trying to find a way out. it felt like inhos was trying to split you in half, the rough skin on his finger pads only made it worse. but ofcoourse it had to feel good, because he knew what he was doing. even if it was messy, even if it was rough, even if you didn't like it..he knew how to make a woman feel good past all the pain. he tilted his head up towards you, his dark almond eyes burned holes into yours. "you gonna cum?" instead of a question, it felt like a demand. demanding you to answer yes, scaring you into saying yes.. but you didn't say yes, you said no. you shook your head and mouthed no to inho, not daring to say it out loud..and it obviously made him upset. he sneered at you before grabbing is free hand and pinching your clit before speeding the pace of his fingers. this was something you've never felt before, the pleasure finally overshadowed the pain and it felt like he had just forced your orgasm out of your body. your cum coated his digits, leaving a slightly milky white color on them.. you were catching your breath, it was hard to breath..the pain, anxiety and fear were catching up to you...you felt your throat slowly closing on you..you felt like you couldn't even breath enough air to supply your lungs are this point.. you were so caught up in your own world that you didn't even realize how he was pressing against the bulge that was begging to be freed from his trousers..he stared at you with bleak eyes, there was nothing behind them...nothing but desire and want..you were scared witless of what he would do to your poor body next. and whatever it was, you didn't want it

the bed was creaking under you, the same bed you and juho slept in everyday... you legs were pressing onto your stomach, the skin rubbing against each other. inho was slamming his cock in and out of you.. touching spots you didn't even know could be reached before this. you felt horrible for feeling so good. but you didn't want this. you were a crying moaning mess. your nails were digging onto his hands, the ones that were pressing you down. you were begging for him to stop, you didn't want this..you felt like you were being forced into this. with the life of your husband on the line.. inho let go of your left thigh and reached to your neck. his freezing hand sending shivers through your body as he started to choke you whilst pounding in and out of you..destroying your gummy insides. he lowered his face to you and scoffed, you looked so pathetic. crying and sobbing acting like you weren't enjoying his fat cock. why wouldn't you just admit you liked it for once? "acting like youre the victim while my cocks deep inside of you. is this all women do? complain about everything..just admit you like it. I wont tell." you felt so degrading. you were getting fucked by a man you barely knew on the bed your missing husband and you slept on every day at somepoint. using his life against you and now he's blaming you? was it really your fault? could you have just turned him away and still gotten junho back? was that an option that you weren't told about? you started crying, your weak arms pushing against his chest with no avail. you just wanted it to stop, you were in pain and now you're being told its your fault you're in this situation. you can never win. you began to sob louder, begging him to let you go, louder and louder until you were wailing like a stupid baby. your hand grasped at the tight grip he had on your neck, then to his chest to push him away again. "shut up." he snarled before taking off his hand from your neck, he had left a bruise from how hard he was gripping...with the same hand he harshly slapped you. shutting your cries up quickly. a red spot started to quickly form, your skin was now irritated in what felt like every place on your body.. "you're such a slut. taking the dick of a man 20 years older than you on the very bed your husband would sleep on. do you not feel ashamed? hmm?" he hummed at you, waiting for your reply. but you didn't even mutter a word, nothing. you decided you'll just take it with no noise, if you stay quiet up maybe it'll end faster?.. it should...shouldn't it..you were trying to comfort yourself in your head.. "you can keep trying to tell yourself otherwise but youre nothing but a dirty cheater. taking dick like a good girl. this probably isn't the first time youve done this huh?" he laughed at your now soulless face, he was right when he said he wanted to ruin you. he was doing that, and it got worse with every second that passed. "ffuck I'm close. you better cum or else I'll js' keep on using you until you do." you started to tear up, your clit twitching and your hole began to clench around his cock. you felt good, but terrible at the same time..you doubted he was cumming because he thought you felt good though, it was a factor but it was probably your shape that made him so horny. you were sad, in pain...tired... he got off to it so bad. you let out quiet pants and moans, indicating to inho that you were close too. he started to get sloppy, his pace getting even faster as the wet slapping sound of skin filled your ears to the brim. you felt your clit pulsating, begging for release...once you came you'd be free..you'd be...you'd be....be.. "a-aa.. fuck fuck fuckfck fuck! ouOUGH~" you let out loud, filthy moans. probably for the first time that night, instead of your cries it was your moans and whimpers that the room was now brimming with. inho loved the sound of your noises, your cries, moans, everything. God it made him so horny...once he felt you cum all over his cock he let his go through as well. fucking his orgasm into you deeper, and deeper with a loud groan..

he kept moving slowly, fucking you through your orgasm as your breathes calmed down.. "I want to ruin every inch of kindness and hope for humanity you have left in you. you're so perfect. perfect to corrupt.." his hand raised to your cheek and started to rub it 'lovingly'. you had a feeling he wasn't going to let you go like he had told you he would.

...

Another not: I FINALLY FINISHED YAY took me like all day again but ....yay!! I hope u guys liked it. I'm pretty proud of it but idk if its ooc or not... but SMASH THE LIKE BUTTON N HIT SUBSCRIBE 4 MORE..!!!!!!!

TAGLIST: @pollys-doublelife @gongyoosgf

[vampibrainrot]

Maybe I'm wrong (hopefully) but considering the other hints of Zannah's past with the Amazons, I'm afraid DC is going to change her origin and make her and the coda a group of renegade amazons or something like that

[maybefae]

Messages From Your Forever Person

Pile 1 - Pile 2 - Pile 3

Remember, this is a general reading and it may not resonate for everyone or completely. Tarot is a tool to help guide but you are responsible for your actions and life, you choose your path.

Just a note!: I don’t like doing general love readings because I don’t feel like they are as personal as, well, personal love readings, but I had the urge to make one. Your forever person can be what you consider your significant other, long-term partner, or future spouse.

Tips!

|Pile 1

Tarot: King of Pentacles, The Fool, Ace of Pentacles, Three of Pentacles, Black Numen, Six of Wands, Knight of Pentacles, Three of Swords, Ace of Swords, The Star, Ten of Cups (Bottom of the Deck:

Oracle: Uplift, Forgiveness, Consistency

You know how the planet Jupiter is the defender of our solar system? How Jupiter pulls asteroids away from Earth and even take the hits itself? That’s the energy of this person. As soon as I pulled the cards, I got the feeling of comfort from a strong and stable energy. I must say, this person also has a comforting smile and as soon as you look at them, your nerves will instantly be soothed. They feel like they are standing beside me, hands in pockets, as they watch me write this. They could have a favorite cream cable knit sweater that they like to wear as soon as there’s a chill in the air. 

They are very patient and have the mentality of “it doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to be done”. You could suffer from anxiety, but I feel this panicked and shaky energy coming from you. I don’t know if you used to be yelled at or punished for doing something wrong by a parent or partner, but it feels like you are terrified of doing anything around your forever person at first. And there are cards here that are telling me that you have been hurt in the past. It seems like this could be the first safe and healthy partner you’ve had. This could just be the first partner you’ve ever had and now you're 20/25+ years old and you don’t know what you’re doing, which brings out this anxiety towards this relationship. But your partner here holds a lot of patience and comfort for you! They really love you. Honestly, this is really fucking close to unconditional love (which is rare). They hold no judgement towards how you operate now because of your past, absolutely not. And they want you to know that. It’s like they have told you this but you continuously don’t believe them, which does hurt them a little ngl. The Jupiter reference could be what this was for. They will take the small hurts you do but persistently and consistently show up until you believe in their love for you. And it’s not that you don’t know, but there is a voice in your head that makes you doubt often even if there isn’t proof of those thoughts. 

God, pile 1, they love you. They are such a steady energy. They are also very stable in the physical and spiritual realms. They are a very hard worker and would do anything to help your dreams become a reality. Your dreams are their dreams and vice versa. They really just want a peaceful home life with you honestly; they like the simple things. I think a good personality reference would be the husband to the pregnant wife in Kiki’s Delivery Service. 

They really want me to drive home the message of forgiving yourself, pile 1. Sure, your actions or thoughts do hurt them sometimes, but they don’t really want that to be the focus. They want you to be aware that they do but in a way to help you heal. They aren’t your past partner, they aren’t going to react like your parent, they aren’t playing you just because you haven’t had a partner. It’s heartbreaking that you would dare to even compare them to others. Maybe this person hides a lot of their hurt not to upset you and this is a hurdle that they have to work through. It’s only really coming out towards the end so that’s why I want to say that. 

I think this message was to let you know how the beginning part of your relationship will be like. They just want to make you aware of it, maybe so you can comfort the insecurities you have so the beginning won’t be as difficult.

|Pile 2

Tarot: Ten of Swords, Queen of Pentacles, Six of Swords, The Hierophant, Three of Pentacles, King of Cups, Three of Cups, The Sun, King of Pentacles, Seven of Pentacles, The High Priestess, The Moon

Oracle: The Moon (again!), Wept Breath, The Chariot, Vulnerability, Divinity, Sacred

Before I pulled the cards, I heard six months to a year or eight weeks. I don’t like to do timing but that’s what I heard. So if that feels right to you, then take it. Or somewhere between a waning crescent and a waning gibbous moon.

Honestly, they are just happy to be here. I think they were ready to give up on love after so many failed attempts and heartbreak before you came along. And you honestly could’ve sworn off love too but you saw them and was like “I want that one.” This is the black cat, golden retriever pile. Raven and Beast Boy, Maleficent and Diaval, or Roger Rabbit and Jessica Rabbit. 

The vulnerability oracle strongly comes from your side. It does come from theirs but they admit that they were practically enchanted by you. “The idea of giving up on love was a stupid idea on their part, sorry your highness, that was my bad.” They just folded and they would happily fall under any love spell you send their way. They are obsessed with you, in the most healthy way possible. They are banging the table with their fist, credit card in hand. There’s an energy that you were in the same room with them and kept your eye on them because you were drawn to how “pathetic” they were. You couldn’t help yourself so you gave in. There’s also an energy of “of course, you’re the fated one to be with me.” You two end up talking and you could kinda bust their balls a little, tease and be a little sassy, but they keep up with you and “pass your little test.” 

I don’t think they were necessarily a player in the past but they had quite a few lovers and most of them played your person. They could have the vibe of one just from how cheeky and flirty they are but those thoughts are soon squashed with you seeing how pathetically devoted they are to you. They are just a lover at their core, they like to keep things light and fun, but they also know how to be serious and fix any issue that comes up in the relationship. They would truly do anything for you. This could come from an insecurity of not getting the love they needed from their past partners so they are overcompensating to keep you in love with them. :( 

Are these the older daughters/siblings that I usually get? There could be something here that they have a pretty put-together family and you’re the first partner that the family actually loves. You could honestly get the love and care that you missed out on with their family. 

God, I keep seeing your partner looking at you with the biggest heart eyes and they do this all the time, which could make you so flustered. This could be one of the things about them that honestly gets you to melt a little and lower some walls you have up. This feels like a love that you probably didn’t get to experience in your teen years but this will span on until you're old and wrinkly. They will carry the “honeymoon phase” through the rest of your lives. You know those videos that people make of their parents being in love and fooling around? That’s you two! 

There’s just an overall feeling of excitement coming from them. They could talk about you a lot to their friends and family, but not in a bragging way. They are just so happy with you and thinks you’re the most beautiful person they have ever seen. I heard “A wish I didn’t know I was wishing for.”

|Pile 3

Tarot: Two of Cups, King of Swords, The Hermit, The Fool, ? Dreamworld (reconnection), Six of Wands, Two of Wands, Four of Pentacles, Five of Cups, The Chariot (rest, feeling at home)

Oracle: Serenity, Sincerity, Respite, Surrender

If this resonates, this could be a lover you had that had passed away.

For others, this pile is for the ones who believe in lifetimes before the one you’re currently living. Energy is recycled after all. This is the more mystical pile. 

Your person here has a large energy and could come off as cold and intimidating. They have come to me wearing all black, leather boots, and darker hair. They have very muscular arms and a broad chest, very tall. They could be goth. This could’ve been them in the past life or that is how they show up in this lifetime. They have their head down as they stand beside me and there is an energy of wanting you to know they are here. Their soul does watch over you and guide you but they may stay quiet and don’t give you many signs or messages that they are around. But I suppose they came through today to say hi! 

They are very protective over you and they think you’re a ray of sunshine that graces their life. They aren’t one to show many emotions nor really speak them out, but you accept this and know that you are deeply loved. They know you doubt that they even exist or if they are coming or if they love you and so they are very hesitantly showing up through this reading to say that “I’m on my way” and “just sit tight.” They could have a deeper voice. They could give you reassurance if you ask for it, by the way! They want me to specify that so they don’t come across as heartless. I think you’re the only one that they truly love with their whole being and they do make it known, but if you need a little verbal reassurance, all you gotta do is ask. They are a cat person.

There is something here that you may have lived in timelines where they never got to exist in, like it has been a long while since you two have been together. I heard, “I waited for the right time.” There could’ve been timelines where your lives probably wouldn’t have worked together or it was going to end in tragedy “like the one I met you in.” So they had to wait. And they watched over you through each timeline. Everytime you didn’t get to live a happy lifetime or if your partner of any lifetime didn’t treat you right, it would make your person terribly upset and they couldn’t do anything about it. They are very upset while they show this to me, angry and frustrated. But this lifetime is the one where you two will finally be together. 

You could feel like you are meant to be someone, like a little void spot where your soul is…and you could be waiting out until you meet this person. You actually could’ve done this for the past three lifetimes (which you probably lived more happily than others). And this could’ve been a lifetime where you planned to do the same thing, but your person is coming in. You will be suspicious but you will probably be very enamoured by them. They are different than others and stand out to you. I think they like to rub your back because I just got the feeling of someone doing that to me. They let you be your bubbly and lively self and actually love that about you. They have complete trust in you. They may be on the more quiet/shy side but you two work together perfectly. You two can rest easy in this lifetime. 

Dividers: @inklore

[harmoonix]

✨️The art of sexiness ✨

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✨️ FASHION Astrology Observations for both WOMEN AND MEN ✨️

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Men with Venus in earth signs have a unique elegance. They may dress a lot with old money/dark academia styles, very elegant, gentleman type of man, good manners.

Women with Venus - Asc aspects always know how to dress, for different occasions, is like your body tells you what type of clothes to wear for that specific day

Venus in Leo/Leo Rising (for both men and women) may like to show parts of their skin, can be the back, the chest, pants that may have broken parts that show the skin

Ascendant in Libra/Taurus, you're Venus ruled, that means that you are already into all those fashion/beauty trends, Venus will amplify your fashion style and that can help you to be more in tune with your beauty

Ascendant in Pisces/Venus in Pisces is also loved a lot by Venus, they may wear clothes that make them more dreamy, ethereal, sensual

Venus in Fire signs are recommended to wear lots of red/orange or purple if possible, bright colors amplify your Venus, and you may be more comfortable wearing those

Capricorn Placements, but especially Risings, are known to have good fashion choices. They will always wear something classy/vintage style, which makes them look more maturely beautiful

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Mars in Virgo/Mars at 6° 18° may wear clothes that show their waist/stomach area, Virgo rules over those, it can apply both for men and women, specific tops may be a good fashion choice dor them

Neptune - ascendant aspects attract people with their fashion sense, you can get compliments for the way you dress, your style in fashion is unmatched

Uranus - Venus aspects, here the native may put sort of random clothes on them which in the end still look fire, random clothes ends with a good outfit, sometimes wearing whatever you take from your wardrobe but still looking good

Men specifically with Mars - Asc aspects may try to dress in a way to show their dominance or in a way that inspire them to be more in a role leader, they may also have sort of marks on their body

Venus at 11° 23° degrees can indicate a unique fashion style/you may have a different fashion style from anyone else, fabulous.

Virgo/Gemini/Cancer Risings can have a baby face. They may wear more soft-colors clothes that indicate a joyful nature, like yellow or green, they may look younger than they actually are

Venus in the 4H/Cancer/ at 4° 16° 28° may like traditional clothing, sometimes simple but classy kind of clothes that still gives the vibe of an elegant person

Saturn - Ascendant aspects native may dress more casual/dark tones/dark - elegant vibes, these natives may also give the vibe of a 'witch' in fashion codes

Scorpio Placements are known to dress more sensually and based on how sensual they feel in that certain day. They may love to go out more at night, so definitely wear something fitting for night dates

Pluto - Ascendant aspects natives can be called out for dressing 'provocative' even if they don't automatically do that. Definitely dark vibes in the sense of clothing, vampire aura

Sun or Venus aspecting the Sun or MC can make the native to wear more jewels, rings, bracelets even gemstones if you like them

Midheaven in Libra/Taurus/aspecting Venus or at 2° 14° 26° 7° 19° degrees may end up good fashion designers if they put everything in practice because they're also very creative

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Midheaven in Scoprio or at 8° 20° screams 'Cruella deVile' vibes, that type of dark fashion, glamour, elegant and sparkling vibe from the 90's

If you have Moon aspecting your Asc is important to dress whatever you like, to dress how you feel/on your mood because that's the way you shine, being yourself through clothes and fashion

Aries Placements/MC/Venus/Asc can be the type of a seductive person in terms of clothing. They may not have the desire to seduce others with their clothes, but others happen just fall over you

Aries Moons though they may have lots of marks on their body that they wanna cover, but their eyebrows are everything!!

Aquarius Risings/Uranus 1H may have a different way of dressing somehow getting the attention without wanting that, is just the way you style that people love to see

Sagittarius Placements/MC/Venus/Rising have that type of tropical aura, wearing beautiful clothes sometimes inspired by something or someone that makes these natives to shine

Men with sun dominant in their chart may dress more casual yet trendy, seeing and trying different trends of clothes that puts them under the spotlight

Men who are Mars dominant may like to wear military clothes as a trend. Since Mars is the planet of war, these natives may have a fantasy about it

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1° 13° 25° degrees on your rising will make the native to be bold in their styles, wearing things that get a lot of attention because of their strong personality as well

0° on ascendant/venus/MC will just make you indecisive at dressing, may be a bit complicated for you to find a style of your own but once you find it, nothing will stop you from shininggggg

Venus in Gemini/at 3° 15° 27° may like to wear combos of colors in their clothes, like white and black or red and black, they wanna be matchy and to have their own kind of style

Jupiter - ascendant aspects will amplify the way you dress, will put a lot on attention on you since these aspects can make the native to look more curvy

Venus - Mercury aspects are known to be charming, always on point, these may give the vibes of barbie, doll fashion, you can get inspired from others

Jupiter - Neptune aspects create this type of prince charming or a Disney princess vibes, they look ethereal, they wanna look nice and liked by others, works so well for them.

Libra Venus/Moon, their hair can play a big role in how they dress in that specific day, like you can't dress good if your hair isn't looking good, I feel like they wanna combine something that makes their hair to look more close to their outfit

Pluto or Lilith - asc aspecting may also like goth/grunge style pleasant for them, honestly they embody the grunge aura a lot

Aquarius Venus/Venus in the 11th, we all know their beauty is like by a lot of people, but is also something in their dressing style that makes them to be appreciated in public too, carrying a sense of welcoming energy

Taurus & Virgo Risings have the type of 'fairy vibes', but at the same time, their clothing may also be inspired from it, wearing clothes that make them sophisticated, bossy for both for them

Mercury - ascendant aspects may like to talk about the way they dress or their clothing style to others, inspiring others with the same ideas

Air Venus/Venus in Air houses 3H/7H/11H gives ´disco - fashion´ to the native, or the vibes from a 90´s dance club. Very attractive and these natives may wear sparkly clothes, clothes that reflect the light

Venus in Cancer or Capricorn/Venus in the 4th or 10th house women may like to wear long dresses, wedding type of dresses. casual dress but still elegant

Beyonce is a Libra Rising/Madonna a Virgo Rising, one after the other they set fashion trends all over the world, their beauty comes from art/inspired from something

Marilyn Monroe was a Leo Rising, her Leo Rising helped her a lot to gain attention all over the world, Marilyn was an icon for the fashion eye in her time

Aaliyah Princess of R&B was an Aquarius Rising and her impact over the industry was insane, she was always setting new standards and new trends, she fulfilled her aquarius rising path

Venus in the 9th house or at 9, 21 degrees can indicate your ethnicity plays a big role in your beauty and fashion, your culture can make you more than you know

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Ascendant at 6° or 18° may give you a pure look on your face. Wearing white/silver/bright blue makes you more peaceful. Your fashion sense is delicate

Men with Pluto - MC aspects can dress with more dark tones, attracting more eyes upon them, these men are mose mysterious and private about their lives yet they can be so popular

Titanic´s main characthers Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet are both libra risings and they have played in the most romantic movie ever. + The vintage fashion in the movie being associated with Libra

Uranus/Venus/Sun/Jupiter in the 2nd house natives can invest a lot on the way they look/clothes, beauty products, etc

Something i have seen in Libra suns and moons is that they are good to give advices about clothes, they know how sort the things out, they will be honest about looks

Venus in the 5th/11th house natives can create lots of fashion trends people tend to follow. Their friends may also get insipired from them.

Venus or Moon in the 3rd house can get more communicative about their looks. They get curious very easily about others look as well. They may stare at your outfit a lot, lol

Virgo Placements, but especially Moon, may like to dress business casual, boss clothes, or something that tells you they are in a good role in the society

Natives with Venus - Pluto aspects may like to dress more sensually without being sexualized for it. Do it for yourself not for others attention

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Hope you all have a good week 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 lots of winter hugs for everyone!! 🤎🤎🤎

♤ Harmoonix ♤

[mind-intheclouds342]

A new ladder - Reader x Curly

BEFORE I START

Yes, another story of Curly. What can i do? I love him.

THIS IS ALL INSPIRED BY THIS AWESOME ARTIST THAT I FOUND ON TIKTOK

btw the curly of this story will kook like this so you can already imagine him.

The user is ladonb.kokosa

PLEASE GO CHECK THEIR ART ITS WONDERFUL

That being said. Lets get start with

Part 1 - Next

"Cryostasis ended"

"His vital signs are stable"

"Who could it be?"

"Disinfect the wounds"

"There are no more survivors"

"They authorized us to give him the implant."

The man could hear several voices in the distance, he saw silhouettes, shadows, he couldn't distinguish the people around him.

He felt them putting a mask on him to anesthetize him, and everything went dark again.

When he woke up, he saw a woman checking his signs, and he was astonished to recognize her despite some of her physical changes.

She was his fiancée, the woman he was supposed to marry after that trip.

Why did she look like that? She seemed older, but in his sigth, she remained beautiful.

He made some sounds to get her attention, causing her to turn and look at him. She approached and pressed something on his neck.

Curly: "Linda..."

Linda: "...No... Tell me it's not you..."

The woman immediately stepped back, covering her mouth, unable to believe what she was seeing.

She didn't recognize the man laying in that bed in front of her, and she prayed so hard that he wasn't the man she was going to marry, but the fact that he recognized her confirmed her fear.

He could understand the terror on her face, but he didn't know there was something else he didn't know.

She took a deep breath and set her fear aside, sitting next to the man.

Linda: "Curly... If it really is you..." she said, still holding out a small hope that it wasn't him, "You were cryogenically frozen for 20 years... They rescued you because the Tulpar re-entered orbit near Earth before running out of energy, they were able to detect it and bring it back without causing damage, and that's how they found you inside... You have been in the hospital for two weeks today..."

He wanted to laugh as if what he was being told was a bad joke, it couldn't have been that long, right?

But looking closely at her, the small wrinkles now on her face and the few gray hairs she had showed her that she was real.

Linda: "They didn't find any more survivors and... The same press has taken care of paying your medical expenses because they want to hear your story... You have an implant in your neck so you can speak, a voice box, you have to press it if you have difficulties but in a while you won't need to do it anymore... and they did a skin graft... Including some prosthetics..."

She carefully took the prosthetics of his arms and raised them so he could see them, Curly felt like a completely different being.

Linda: "I recommend that you ask for what you want now because... As soon as they find out you're awake... They're going to bombard you with questions and the press will come here, they won't show any mercy."

The man tried to raise the prosthesis and pressed his implant on his neck to be able to speak.

Curly: "What about us?"

Linda: "Oh Curly..." she sighed, "When you didn't come back, I thought the worst... That you were dead... I just keep going with my life... I married someone else, I have two children... There is no longer an 'us'."

Before he could say anything else, a reporter peeked in and made a fuss upon seeing him awake; the place filled up in seconds.

The woman lowered her head and left the room in search of security to throw out the press, but the harassment didn't end there.

Curly chose to give them the answers to the questions they had by scheduling a meeting at the hospital.

Thanks to this, many people started donating things to him, including money to help him reintegrate into society.

But beyond the kindness of people, no one wanted to take care of him and help him, not even the nurses, they said they couldn't spend too much time near him.

Linda took care of him during his stay in the hospital while they fixed up his house that had been left abandoned.

Linda: "I found someone who can take care of you."

She commented while pushing his wheelchair, entering his house, that it looked completely renovated.

Linda: "I don't know if you still remember that I mentioned my younger sister, (Y/n), a couple of times?"

Curly: "The one who lived with your father?"

Linda: "That's right... My mom got full custody of her after a few years, and since then she has been living with her until she became independent shortly after turning 18..." 

Curly: "She was 12 back then..."

Linda: "She recently lost her job, I thought it would be a good opportunity for her. She is very responsible, I promise."

When they arrived in the room, he could see a woman standing and looking at the paintings hanging on the walls.

He had never met his fiancée's sister, but he had heard many stories about her, about how her father unjustly gained custody by labeling their mother as crazy, and since then they had fought to get the girl back.

He had been struck by how incredibly different she was from her sister; you two didn't seem related at all.

Linda: "Good thing you were already here," she mentioned with a smile to catch your attention. 

When you turned to look at them, Curly didn't expect such seriousness from you towards your older sister. 

"...Thank you for the job opportunity, I will do my best to help you," you mentioned, looking at the man, ignoring the woman. 

Linda: "Let me show you where everything is-"

"I've already been getting familiar with the place, it's not necessary, you can go."

Linda: "At least let me tell you which medications you should-"

"You have already sent me a message with clear instructions. I can do this, Lin."

Curly: "You should be more respectful to your older sister."

Upon hearing him speak, you turned to look at him again, without any expression. 

"...Lin"

Linda: "I'll leave, there is no problem. I'm sure you've already memorized everything to the letter. If you have any problem, don't hesitate to call me."

She indicated, she didn't want to make a scene and left without even saying goodbye to either of them. 

"...So you are Curly... It's a pleasure to meet you, I hope we get along well."

You had already made a bad first impression on Curly by treating the love of his life so poorly. 

"Lin left your pill organizer with me, and gave me the schedule for them, it's time for the first pill."

You took a bottle and opened it to take a pill, causing the man to tense up a bit as he remembered moments when he was given his painkillers.

Noticing his nervousness, you tilted your head somewhat confused and went to get something to drink so he could take the pill. 

What a surprise he got when you brought him a cup of chocolate along with the pill. 

"When I was little... I didn't know how to swallow pills, I would choke, so I would bite them... My dad used to give me pills with chocolate milk so I wouldn't have a bad taste in my mouth, don't you like the taste of the pills? These can be very bitter..." 

He thought it was very kind of you to consider that, immediately regretting having judged you without knowing anything about you. 

You helped him take the pills, giving him chocolate to drink slowly, it really helped with the bitter taste. 

Maybe... you weren't so bad.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The reason you can’t buy a car is the same reason that your health insurer let hackers dox you

On July 14, I'm giving the closing keynote for the fifteenth HACKERS ON PLANET EARTH, in QUEENS, NY. Happy Bastille Day! On July 20, I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

In 2017, Equifax suffered the worst data-breach in world history, leaking the deep, nonconsensual dossiers it had compiled on 148m Americans and 15m Britons, (and 19k Canadians) into the world, to form an immortal, undeletable reservoir of kompromat and premade identity-theft kits:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2017_Equifax_data_breach

Equifax knew the breach was coming. It wasn't just that their top execs liquidated their stock in Equifax before the announcement of the breach – it was also that they ignored years of increasingly urgent warnings from IT staff about the problems with their server security.

Things didn't improve after the breach. Indeed, the 2017 Equifax breach was the starting gun for a string of more breaches, because Equifax's servers didn't just have one fubared system – it was composed of pure, refined fubar. After one group of hackers breached the main Equifax system, other groups breached other Equifax systems, over and over, and over:

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/equifax-password-username-admin-lawsuit-201118316.html

Doesn't this remind you of Boeing? It reminds me of Boeing. The spectacular 737 Max failures in 2018 weren't the end of the scandal. They weren't even the scandal's start – they were the tipping point, the moment in which a long history of lethally defective planes "breached" from the world of aviation wonks and into the wider public consciousness:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_accidents_and_incidents_involving_the_Boeing_737

Just like with Equifax, the 737 Max disasters tipped Boeing into a string of increasingly grim catastrophes. Each fresh disaster landed with the grim inevitability of your general contractor texting you that he's just opened up your ceiling and discovered that all your joists had rotted out – and that he won't be able to deal with that until he deals with the termites he found last week, and that they'll have to wait until he gets to the cracks in the foundation slab from the week before, and that those will have to wait until he gets to the asbestos he just discovered in the walls.

Drip, drip, drip, as you realize that the most expensive thing you own – which is also the thing you had hoped to shelter for the rest of your life – isn't even a teardown, it's just a pure liability. Even if you razed the structure, you couldn't start over, because the soil is full of PCBs. It's not a toxic asset, because it's not an asset. It's just toxic.

Equifax isn't just a company: it's infrastructure. It started out as an engine for racial, political and sexual discrimination, paying snoops to collect gossip from nosy neighbors, which was assembled into vast warehouses full of binders that told bank officers which loan applicants should be denied for being queer, or leftists, or, you know, Black:

https://jacobin.com/2017/09/equifax-retail-credit-company-discrimination-loans

This witch-hunts-as-a-service morphed into an official part of the economy, the backbone of the credit industry, with a license to secretly destroy your life with haphazardly assembled "facts" about your life that you had the most minimal, grudging right to appeal (or even see). Turns out there are a lot of customers for this kind of service, and the capital markets showered Equifax with the cash needed to buy almost all of its rivals, in mergers that were waved through by a generation of Reaganomics-sedated antitrust regulators.

There's a direct line from that acquisition spree to the Equifax breach(es). First of all, companies like Equifax were early adopters of technology. They're a database company, so they were the crash-test dummies for ever generation of database. These bug-riddled, heavily patched systems were overlaid with subsequent layers of new tech, with new defects to be patched and then overlaid with the next generation.

These systems are intrinsically fragile, because things fall apart at the seams, and these systems are all seams. They are tech-debt personified. Now, every kind of enterprise will eventually reach this state if it keeps going long enough, but the early digitizers are the bow-wave of that coming infopocalypse, both because they got there first and because the bottom tiers of their systems are composed of layers of punchcards and COBOL, crumbling under the geological stresses of seventy years of subsequent technology.

The single best account of this phenomenon is the British Library's postmortem of their ransomware attack, which is also in the running for "best hard-eyed assessment of how fucked things are":

https://www.bl.uk/home/british-library-cyber-incident-review-8-march-2024.pdf

There's a reason libraries, cities, insurance companies, and other giant institutions keep getting breached: they started accumulating tech debt before anyone else, so they've got more asbestos in the walls, more sagging joists, more foundation cracks and more termites.

That was the starting point for Equifax – a company with a massive tech debt that it would struggle to pay down under the most ideal circumstances.

Then, Equifax deliberately made this situation infinitely worse through a series of mergers in which it bought dozens of other companies that all had their own version of this problem, and duct-taped their failing, fucked up IT systems to its own. The more seams an IT system has, the more brittle and insecure it is. Equifax deliberately added so many seams that you need to be able to visualized additional spatial dimensions to grasp them – they had fractal seams.

But wait, there's more! The reason to merge with your competitors is to create a monopoly position, and the value of a monopoly position is that it makes a company too big to fail, which makes it too big to jail, which makes it too big to care. Each Equifax acquisition took a piece off the game board, making it that much harder to replace Equifax if it fucked up. That, in turn, made it harder to punish Equifax if it fucked up. And that meant that Equifax didn't have to care if it fucked up.

Which is why the increasingly desperate pleas for more resources to shore up Equifax's crumbling IT and security infrastructure went unheeded. Top management could see that they were steaming directly into an iceberg, but they also knew that they had a guaranteed spot on the lifeboats, and that someone else would be responsible for fishing the dead passengers out of the sea. Why turn the wheel?

That's what happened to Boeing, too: the company acquired new layers of technical complexity by merging with rivals (principally McDonnell-Douglas), and then starved the departments that would have to deal with that complexity because it was being managed by execs whose driving passion was to run a company that was too big to care. Those execs then added more complexity by chasing lower costs by firing unionized, competent, senior staff and replacing them with untrained scabs in jurisdictions chosen for their lax labor and environmental enforcement regimes.

(The biggest difference was that Boeing once had a useful, high-quality product, whereas Equifax started off as an irredeemably terrible, if efficient, discrimination machine, and grew to become an equally terrible, but also ferociously incompetent, enterprise.)

This is the American story of the past four decades: accumulate tech debt, merge to monopoly, exponentially compound your tech debt by combining barely functional IT systems. Every corporate behemoth is locked in a race between the eventual discovery of its irreparable structural defects and its ability to become so enmeshed in our lives that we have to assume the costs of fixing those defects. It's a contest between "too rotten to stand" and "too big to care."

Remember last February, when we all discovered that there was a company called Change Healthcare, and that they were key to processing virtually every prescription filled in America? Remember how we discovered this? Change was hacked, went down, ransomed, and no one could fill a scrip in America for more than a week, until they paid the hackers $22m in Bitcoin?

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2024_Change_Healthcare_ransomware_attack

How did we end up with Change Healthcare as the linchpin of the entire American prescription system? Well, first Unitedhealthcare became the largest health insurer in America by buying all its competitors in a series of mergers that comatose antitrust regulators failed to block. Then it combined all those other companies' IT systems into a cosmic-scale dog's breakfast that barely ran. Then it bought Change and used its monopoly power to ensure that every Rx ran through Change's servers, which were part of that asbestos-filled, termite-infested, crack-foundationed, sag-joisted teardown. Then, it got hacked.

United's execs are the kind of execs on a relentless quest to be too big to care, and so they don't care. Which is why their they had to subsequently announce that they had suffered a breach that turned the complete medical histories of one third of Americans into immortal Darknet kompromat that is – even now – being combined with breach data from Equifax and force-fed to the slaves in Cambodia and Laos's pig-butchering factories:

https://www.cnn.com/2024/05/01/politics/data-stolen-healthcare-hack/index.html

Those slaves are beaten, tortured, and punitively raped in compounds to force them to drain the life's savings of everyone in Canada, Australia, Singapore, the UK and Europe. Remember that they are downstream of the forseeable, inevitable IT failures of companies that set out to be too big to care that this was going to happen.

Failures like Ticketmaster's, which flushed 500 million users' personal information into the identity-theft mills just last month. Ticketmaster, you'll recall, grew to its current scale through (you guessed it), a series of mergers en route to "too big to care" status, that resulted in its IT systems being combined with those of Ticketron, Live Nation, and dozens of others:

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/05/31/business/ticketmaster-hack-data-breach.html

But enough about that. Let's go car-shopping!

Good luck with that. There's a company you've never heard. It's called CDK Global. They provide "dealer management software." They are a monopolist. They got that way after being bought by a private equity fund called Brookfield. You can't complete a car purchase without their systems, and their systems have been hacked. No one can buy a car:

https://www.cnn.com/2024/06/27/business/cdk-global-cyber-attack-update/index.html

Writing for his BIG newsletter, Matt Stoller tells the all-too-familiar story of how CDK Global filled the walls of the nation's auto-dealers with the IT equivalent of termites and asbestos, and lays the blame where it belongs: with a legal and economics establishment that wanted it this way:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/a-supreme-court-justice-is-why-you

The CDK story follows the Equifax/Boeing/Change Healthcare/Ticketmaster pattern, but with an important difference. As CDK was amassing its monopoly power, one of its execs, Dan McCray, told a competitor, Authenticom founder Steve Cottrell that if he didn't sell to CDK that he would "fucking destroy" Authenticom by illegally colluding with the number two dealer management company Reynolds.

Rather than selling out, Cottrell blew the whistle, using Cottrell's own words to convince a district court that CDK had violated antitrust law. The court agreed, and ordered CDK and Reynolds – who controlled 90% of the market – to continue to allow Authenticom to participate in the DMS market.

Dealers cheered this on: CDK/Reynolds had been steadily hiking prices, while ingesting dealer data and using it to gouge the dealers on additional services, while denying dealers access to their own data. The services that Authenticom provided for $35/month cost $735/month from CDK/Reynolds (they justified this price hike by saying they needed the additional funds to cover the costs of increased information security!).

CDK/Reynolds appealed the judgment to the 7th Circuit, where a panel of economists weighed in. As Stoller writes, this panel included monopoly's most notorious (and well-compensated) cheerleader, Frank Easterbrook, and the "legendary" Democrat Diane Wood. They argued for CDK/Reynolds, demanding that the court release them from their obligations to share the market with Authenticom:

https://caselaw.findlaw.com/court/us-7th-circuit/1879150.html

The 7th Circuit bought the argument, overturning the lower court and paving the way for the CDK/Reynolds monopoly, which is how we ended up with one company's objectively shitty IT systems interwoven into the sale of every car, which meant that when Russian hackers looked at that crosseyed, it split wide open, allowing them to halt auto sales nationwide. What happens next is a near-certainty: CDK will pay a multimillion dollar ransom, and the hackers will reward them by breaching the personal details of everyone who's ever bought a car, and the slaves in Cambodian pig-butchering compounds will get a fresh supply of kompromat.

But on the plus side, the need to pay these huge ransoms is key to ensuring liquidity in the cryptocurrency markets, because ransoms are now the only nondiscretionary liability that can only be settled in crypto:

https://locusmag.com/2022/09/cory-doctorow-moneylike/

When the 7th Circuit set up every American car owner to be pig-butchered, they cited one of the most important cases in antitrust history: the 2004 unanimous Supreme Court decision in Verizon v Trinko:

https://www.oyez.org/cases/2003/02-682

Trinko was a case about whether antitrust law could force Verizon, a telcoms monopolist, to share its lines with competitors, something it had been ordered to do and then cheated on. The decision was written by Antonin Scalia, and without it, Big Tech would never have been able to form. Scalia and Trinko gave us the modern, too-big-to-care versions of Google, Meta, Apple, Microsoft and the other tech baronies.

In his Trinko opinion, Scalia said that "possessing monopoly power" and "charging monopoly prices" was "not unlawful" – rather, it was "an important element of the free-market system." Scalia – writing on behalf of a unanimous court! – said that fighting monopolists "may lessen the incentive for the monopolist…to invest in those economically beneficial facilities."

In other words, in order to prevent monopolists from being too big to care, we have to let them have monopolies. No wonder Trinko is the Zelig of shitty antitrust rulings, from the decision to dismiss the antitrust case against Facebook and Apple's defense in its own ongoing case:

https://www.ftc.gov/system/files/documents/cases/073_2021.06.28_mtd_order_memo.pdf

Trinko is the origin node of too big to care. It's the reason that our whole economy is now composed of "infrastructure" that is made of splitting seams, asbestos, termites and dry rot. It's the reason that the entire automotive sector became dependent on companies like Reynolds, whose billionaire owner intentionally and illegally destroyed evidence of his company's crimes, before going on to commit the largest tax fraud in American history:

https://www.wsj.com/articles/billionaire-robert-brockman-accused-of-biggest-tax-fraud-in-u-s-history-dies-at-81-11660226505

Trinko begs companies to become too big to care. It ensures that they will exponentially increase their IT debt while becoming structurally important to whole swathes of the US economy. It guarantees that they will underinvest in IT security. It is the soil in which pig butchering grew.

It's why you can't buy a car.

Now, I am fond of quoting Stein's Law at moments like this: "anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop." As Stoller writes, after two decades of unchallenged rule, Trinko is looking awfully shaky. It was substantially narrowed in 2023 by the 10th Circuit, which had been briefed by Biden's antitrust division:

https://law.justia.com/cases/federal/appellate-courts/ca10/22-1164/22-1164-2023-08-21.html

And the cases of 2024 have something going for them that Trinko lacked in 2004: evidence of what a fucking disaster Trinko is. The wrongness of Trinko is so increasingly undeniable that there's a chance it will be overturned.

But it won't go down easy. As Stoller writes, Trinko didn't emerge from a vacuum: the economic theories that underpinned it come from some of the heroes of orthodox economics, like Joseph Schumpeter, who is positively worshipped. Schumpeter was antitrust's OG hater, who wrote extensively that antitrust law didn't need to exist because any harmful monopoly would be overturned by an inevitable market process dictated by iron laws of economics.

Schumpeter wrote that monopolies could only be sustained by "alertness and energy" – that there would never be a monopoly so secure that its owner became too big to care. But he went further, insisting that the promise of attaining a monopoly was key to investment in great new things, because monopolists had the economic power that let them plan and execute great feats of innovation.

The idea that monopolies are benevolent dictators has pervaded our economic tale for decades. Even today, critics who deplore Facebook and Google do so on the basis that they do not wield their power wisely (say, to stamp out harassment or disinformation). When confronted with the possibility of breaking up these companies or replacing them with smaller platforms, those critics recoil, insisting that without Big Tech's scale, no one will ever have the power to accomplish their goals:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/18/urban-wildlife-interface/#combustible-walled-gardens

But they misunderstand the relationship between corporate power and corporate conduct. The reason corporations accumulate power is so that they can be insulated from the consequences of the harms they wreak upon the rest of us. They don't inflict those harms out of sadism: rather, they do so in order to externalize the costs of running a good system, reaping the profits of scale while we pay its costs.

The only reason to accumulate corporate power is to grow too big to care. Any corporation that amasses enough power that it need not care about us will not care about it. You can't fix Facebook by replacing Zuck with a good unelected social media czar with total power over billions of peoples' lives. We need to abolish Zuck, not fix Zuck.

Zuck is not exceptional: there were a million sociopaths whom investors would have funded to monopolistic dominance if he had balked. A monopoly like Facebook has a Zuck-shaped hole at the top of its org chart, and only someone Zuck-shaped will ever fit through that hole.

Our whole economy is now composed of companies with sociopath-shaped holes at the tops of their org chart. The reason these companies can only be run by sociopaths is the same reason that they have become infrastructure that is crumbling due to sociopathic neglect. The reckless disregard for the risk of combining companies is the source of the market power these companies accumulated, and the market power let them neglect their systems to the point of collapse.

This is the system that Schumpeter, and Easterbrook, and Wood, and Scalia – and the entire Supreme Court of 2004 – set out to make. The fact that you can't buy a car is a feature, not a bug. The pig-butcherers, wallowing in an ocean of breach data, are a feature, not a bug. The point of the system was what it did: create unimaginable wealth for a tiny cohort of the worst people on Earth without regard to the collapse this would provoke, or the plight of those of us trapped and suffocating in the rubble.

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/28/dealer-management-software/#antonin-scalia-stole-your-car

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[halsteadlover]

𝐀 𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐧

*Pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female!Reader.

• Requested by anon: Could you please write a derek Morgan x reader smut where the reader and derek and the team obvi are on a case and while interviewing neighbors in the apartments the reader makes a stupid bet like "I bet whoever lives here is a hot single bachelor in his 20s" and then it's the opposite and when they are back in the car derek makes the reader pay up but with her panties and when she goes to get them back at the end of the day it leads to smut.

• Warnings: a really brief mention of a murder case (it’s just a sentence), dirty talk, cuss words, making out, semi-public foreplay (f. receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up you guyssss!!)

• Word count: 5.5K

• A/N: my first Derek fic 😭 I hope you like it guys, please let me know what do you think about it and also comment, like and reblog, it’d mean the world. Sending lots of love to everyone ❤️

What part of your brain thought it was a good idea to make a bet with Derek Morgan?

You didn’t even know why you did it, it must’ve been the pleasure of losing because there was no way on earth you would’ve won.

You and Morgan were about to go interview a witness for a case you were working on: a serial killer who was killing his victims by setting fires. You were walking next to each other while you thought of some way to make what was going to be a long and boring afternoon, interesting.

You and Derek had a, well… Particular relationship, to say the least.

Months prior you and him had started to have sex. It started out as a purely physical thing as you had always been very attracted to each other, but as time went on you found yourselves spending time together and enjoying each other’s company even outside of a sexual sphere.

Your relationship, both from a working and private point of view, had always been characterized by a playful banter, mischievous jokes, by the constant flirting so it wasn’t strange you both often found yourselves making bets aimed to make lose the other’s mind.

In fact, it was at that moment that you came up with an idea for a bet, however forgetting he took them so seriously it seemed like his life depended on it, especially since most of the time he won, and the penances were of a sexual nature. Of course you didn’t mind losing one bit.

“I bet whoever lives here is a hot single bachelor in his twenties,” you said, pointing to the apartment where you were heading, ready to question the witness. He grinned and glanced at you, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Oh baby girl, you still don’t understand it’s a losing battle?”

“What’s the matter Agent Morgan, you afraid of losing?” You challenged him with the deliberate pleasure of teasing him and in fact he immediately gave in to your provocation.

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly in amusement. You arrived in front of the apartment door that had the number ‘23’ on its sign. You were standing facing each other while he thought about the penance, he would’ve make you do if you – most likely – lost.

Another evil, mocking grin appeared on his lips, and you immediately knew you were in trouble. “You’ll give me your panties when you lose.”

“If I lose.”

“When. But you can still back out.”

“Never.”

He held out a hand towards you but you didn’t miss the way his eyes roamed over your body from head to toe, checking you out without shame. Over time you had learned to understand what he was thinking, what was hidden behind his look and you almost caught fire because you immediately recognized that look, it was the one he gave you when he was imagining you naked in every possible and imaginable position.

And in fact, you weren’t wrong.

Just the thought of having your panties in his pocket, walking around and smelling you, was enough to make his dick stir in his pants.

You knew the odds of you winning the bet were slim, but your competitive nature made you shake Morgan’s hand, and he gave you another one of his panty-ripping smiles.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, don’t take the victory for granted.”

He raised his hands in surrender, chuckling. “I would never dare but be realistic darling. Do you know how low the odds are?”.

“What if I win?”.

“You won’t.”

“What if I win?” You repeated, crossing your arms over your chest.

He shrugged, very sure he’d win. “You’ll choose the penance.”

You thought about it for a moment and a mischievous smile appeared on your lips this time. “I’ll do a strip tease and a lap dance.”

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “How is that a penance? Baby I’d drop on my knees right now to make this happen...”

“…But you’ll be handcuffed, you won’t be able to touch me and I won’t make you come.”

He opened his mouth wide, feeling his dick twitch just at the thought. He had to force himself to think of something else since he didn’t want to question a witness with a raging hard on but it was awfully difficult when all he could do was imagine you strip teasing and grinding on his lap. “Fuck I don’t know if I should win or lose.”

“If you want to end up with blue balls then you have to hope to lose.”

You knocked on the apartment door, still maintaining eye contact with Derek and trying to hold back your laughter since you knew exactly what he was thinking. You took your eyes away from him only to let them travel down his body and to the crotch of his pants which was clearly prominent at that moment. You bit your lip as you looked back at his face and he glared at you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispered, feeling the situation getting even worse. Damn it, he felt like a damn horny teenager.

Before you could respond to his comment the door opened, revealing a person who couldn’t be more different from the object of your bet. He in fact was a she, a lady who couldn’t have been less than sixty years old.

Your smile dropped as the one on Derek’s face grew even more and, as you had already said, you wondered what part of your brain had thought it was a good idea to make that bet.

“Good morning. Can I help you?” she looked skeptically at both of you.

“Oh yes ma’am, you just made my day so much better,” he replied softly but glancing at you. “We’re FBI agents, may we ask you few questions?”

Over the next hour and a half you interviewed other witnesses near the fire scene and on your way to the car, Derek wouldn’t stop trying to get close to you and touch you.

“Derek stop it! We’re in public! God you’re so unprofessional,” you slapped one of his hands away that had been squeezing your ass for the last couple of minutes, trying not to laugh.

“There’s nothing professional about what we do, baby girl,” he replied with mock annoyance, “Plus I can’t help it, I can’t wait to rip your panties off.”

“Nuh uh mister, the deal was that I have to give you my panties not you taking them off me.”

He snorted and rolled his eyes as you approached the car but before you could get in he grabbed your hand and turned you towards him. He placed his hands on your face and as he pushed your back against the car door he crushed his lips on yours.

He didn’t care about passers-by in any way, in people’s eyes you might have looked like a couple who was passionately making out.

After the first few seconds of surprise, you immediately kissed him back, parting your lips and letting him slip his tongue into your mouth. You knew it was totally unprofessional to kiss your colleague in broad daylight while you were doing your job but all it took was for him to get close for you to lose your mind, no longer able to think clearly.

Your hands moved down his chest to encircle his waist, trying to pull him closer to you than his body already was. Your mouths moved in sync while he seemed to want to suck his soul out of you and although you were now used to kissing him, every time it was as if it was the first.

You almost moaned into the kiss, your body already on fire, wanting more. You wanted him so badly, you wanted his hands, his fingers, his mouth and his tongue all over you.

“Derek please…” you sighed when you broke away, his face still dangerously close to yours.

“Get in the car princess,” he ordered and his voice was so low and seductive that if he had asked you to give him a blowjob right there on the sidewalk you would’ve dropped on your knees without the slightest hesitation.

He opened the door for you and you giggled like a teenager before getting in, thanking him as you watched him walk around the car before getting in too.

“I would’ve fucked you in the car here and now if we weren’t in public. You’re so fucking hot baby,” he whispered against your lips after moving closer to you and taking your chin between his fingers. “But I’ll settle taking your panties off for now.”

He placed a hand on your breast and groped it before sliding it across your stomach to your jeans-covered pussy. You moaned as he began to touch you, making you squirm under his expert fingers.

“I bet you’re already wet, aren’t you honey?” He continued to tease you.

“Fuck Derek… They’ll see us…”

“You’re right,” he replied, stopping touching you, causing you to moan and grunt at the same time. “No one should look at what is mine.”

God Derek Morgan and the things he made you feel. You were starting to really hate him.

“You’re having so much fun aren’t you?”

He started the car but not before throwing you one last mocking and sexy as hell grin. “You have no idea how much.”

You squeezed your legs together in anticipation feeling the urge and desire grow more and more. You continued to look at him as he drove, observing every feature of his perfect profile with your hungry eyes.

How could someone be so perfect?

And it didn’t help he had one hand resting on your inner thigh as his thumb was stroking dangerously close to your intimate area. You didn’t know whether to hate him, to beg him to go higher or both but certainly the smug expression on his face made you want to punch him.

Derek drove to a hidden, dead end road, not caring the rest of the team was probably waiting to hear from both you and him.

He kissed you breathless again, threading a hand into your hair. But he didn’t stay there for long as he moved down your chest again, wasting no time in groping your breasts again, until he reached your pussy again.

“God Derek you’re driving me crazy,” you hissed as you struggled to keep control. He kissed you again and unbuttoned your pants and you lifted your hips before your brain could even process the movement, allowing him to slide them down your thighs. You took off your shoes, slipping your pants off.

He slipped his hands into your underwear and a loud moan escaped your lips that Derek felt right in his dick. “As I imagined… So fucking wet.”

“Fuck yes just like that,” you sighed as his fingers drew circles on your clit. You gripped the sides of the seat as if searching for a leverage, pleasure flowing through your veins.

He knew where to touch you, he knew HOW to touch you, what to do to make you lose your mind and control.

“I'm dying to taste this pussy, look at you soaking up my fingers,” he whispered in your ear, pressing his lips to your neck and sucking on your skin but being careful not to leave any marks. The team already didn’t give you any respite suspecting there was something between you, he certainly didn’t want to give them clear proof.

Two of his fingers slipped easily inside your wet pussy, curling inside you and touching that spongy spot that made you moan and thinking you were about to ascend to heaven.

“Yes, yes, oh god yes,” you kissed him, spreading your legs even more to give him more access.

“You like that don’t you? My pretty girl loves being so dirty, letting me finger this pussy in public.”

You dipped your head back in pleasure, feeling the orgasm already building inside you.

He pulled his fingers out and you grunted at the loss and took off your panties, bringing them to his nose and deeply inhaling the scent that drove him so crazy: you and sex. “Now I really don’t know how I’m going to go through the whole day without being hard knowing I have your panties here,” he spoke up as he stuffed them into his pocket. “But we should go back.”

What?

“Derek you can’t leave me like this!”.

“Oh I can and I will, we shouldn’t let the others think we might be doing something shouldn’t we?”

“You fucking piece of shit.”

He burst out laughing and you nearly punched him in his handsome face.

You were furious. Irritated.

You were furious, irritated but above all horny.

After that little stunt he had done in the car Derek had really left you like that, without an orgasm and with a mad desire to fuck.

The rest of the day was torture, especially having to work with other people while pretending you didn’t feel like you were on the edge the whole time. You didn’t spare Morgan some dirty looks after which he had to force himself not to laugh but he didn’t spare you those languid looks full of lust either.

It wasn’t easy for you but it wasn’t easy for him either since, unlike you, couldn’t hide his excitement so easily. Knowing he had your panties in his pocket and the memory of your wet pussy were giving him no respite.

In reality, you both loved that little game, teasing and torturing each other until the other lost his mind, even if… To be honest, wearing jeans without underwear was complete torture.

At the end of the day, when you were finally all in your own room, you took the opportunity to take a shower and put on a dress and the sexy lingerie you had put in your bag before leaving for the new case.

You giggled just thinking about Derek’s reaction.

You went to his room, knocking twice before he opened the door making your jaw drop and almost fall to the floor when you realized he was naked and only had a towel around his waist.

His body was still wet, sign he had just gotten out of the shower, the drops running down his sculpted chest that you wanted to lick off one by one.

“Oh man…” He sighed. “You’re breathtaking baby,” he began, shamelessly scanning your body from head to toe, a smirk on his lips. “I was wondering when you were coming.”

“You always opening the door like this, Agent Morgan?” You asked ironically before entering his room without even waiting for him to invite you.

“Woah woah woah, where do you think you’re going baby girl? Where is my kiss?” He scolded you, almost truly offended after closing the door behind him.

You giggled, but unable to take your eyes off his body and stop them from wandering hungrily over his figure.

“No, dry yourself first and then I’ll kiss you,” you replied before going to sit on the edge of the bed, placing your hands behind you on the mattress and tilting your head slightly as you looked at him.

He didn’t answer but came closer to you and placed two fingers on your chin, forcing you to lift your head and pressing your lips to his in a sweet kiss that took the air out of your lungs.

“Jealous Agent Y/Ln?” He whispered an inch from your lips, referring to your initial question after making you get up from the bed.

“Not even a little bit, it was just an innocent question agent Morgan.”

Absolutely. You were 100% jealous.

But you knew from the way the corner of his mouth lifted in a twisted, mischievous smile he didn’t believe it one bit. “You know, being a profiler I thought you were better at hiding emotions. Lies don’t look good on you pretty girl.”

“That would be true if I had told a lie but that’s not the case, I’m not jealous at all,” you said with a confident tone as your gaze alternated between his eyes and his lips. He was so close and so tempting you felt like you were already losing patience.

“To answer the question, no, I don’t answer to anyone. Just you.”

“You? Derek Morgan?”.

He chuckled. “Strange right? But it seems like you’ve done some weird witchcraft on me because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“You already got in my pants, no need to be cheesy,” you retorted, biting your lip to keep from smiling.

He sighed, slightly shaking his head. “Always so cynical. What should I do with you?”

“Give me back my panties?”.

He raised an eyebrow. “Have you forgotten what the word ‘lose’ means?”.

“If I had known you liked them so much I would’ve bought you a new pair to wear you know.”

“You think you’re so funny don’t you?”. He grabbed your face with one hand, his mouth dangerously close to yours but never touching it.

You nodded with a smirk as you watched as his eyes were fixed on your lips. “Maybe you might like what I have now better.”

You took a step back and the look of pure confusion on his face was replaced by astonishment when he saw your hands lower the thick straps of your dress down your arms, then lowering the side zip and letting the dress fall around your feet.

The look of shock on his face was something you’d never forget.

Derek widened his mouth and eyes, letting his hungry gaze travel along your body wrapped in lace lingerie, studying every curve and inch of your skin. A warm feeling spread in your lower abdomen and it was amazing how just the way he looked at you was enough to turn you on.

“Holy shit…” he breathed out, “You… Are… You… Holy fuck…” he continued stuttering, unable to form a single meaningful sentence.

“Wow did I really manage to surprise Agent Morgan?” You giggled, your cheeks flushed and stomach filled with fluttering butterflies, knowing you had such an effect on him. Derek Morgan – the man who with a single smile and a look could’ve make rows and rows of women fall at his feet – was drooling over you, looking at you like you were the eighth wonder of the world.

“I’ll answer you when some blood returns to my brain.”

Your gaze trailed down his body and your insides clenched at the sight of his prominent erection beneath the towel around his waist. Your mouth watered just thinking about what was underneath that single fabric, imagining his dick in your mouth, in every hole in your body as he filled you completely.

“You look spectacular Y/n, my god” he murmured, his chocolate brown eyes still on your body and never on your face. You could see him struggling in not knowing what to pay more attention to, your breasts which were perfectly highlighted by the lace that gave that see-through effect while it showed the shadow of your nipples, if the hold-ups that surrounded your thighs that Derek wanted nothing more than to mark and bite or your pussy also covered in matching lace in which he wanted to dive and feed on it until he drown himself to death.

Derek moved closer to you, closing the small distance between the two of you. “Turn around. Show me this beautiful ass that torments me in my sleep.”

The tone of his voice alone made you almost beg him to do anything he wanted. You didn’t have to be told twice and you turned around, your skin on fire as you felt his penetrating gaze on you as he observed and studied every millimeter of your body.

You heard Derek exhale a deep breath behind you. “A fucking goddess. You’re absolutely mesmerizing.”

A rush of shivers gave you goosebumps as he placed his rough hands on your arms, stroking them slowly before moving up and moving your hair from your shoulders and letting it fall along your shoulder blades, leaving your neck exposed. His lips began to plant kisses on your skin and the mere contact made you sigh and tilt your head to the side, giving him more access.

“Do you have any idea how crazy you drive me?” he whispered in your ear and you clenched your hands into fists, pressing your nails into your palms in an attempt to release the frustration you felt. Every second that passed while he didn’t touch you as you wanted there was a shred of your sanity that was shattered.

You shook your head, realizing you hadn’t answered yet.

His hands went down your arms again, then moving up your hips until they reached your ass. You let out a gasp when his fingers tightened around the flesh of your ass, squeezing it, groping it with the sole purpose of torturing you and leaving you eager for more.

“God the things I want do to you baby, you can’t even imagine.”

“Do it Derek, do whatever you want to me… I need you.”

“I love feeling you so desperate for me.”

An empty feeling came over you as his fingers let go of your ass, moving to your hips. However, you moaned when he pushed his body against yours, pressing his erection against the curves of your ass and grinding against you without shame or restraint.

“Fuck Derek,” you murmured, now on the verge of losing your mind.

One of his hands ended up around your throat, forcing you to bend your head and rest it on his shoulder while the other cupped one of your breasts, palpating it over the top of your bra. You sighed, rubbing your ass against his hard dick as you couldn’t wait for it to stretch your pussy.

“That’s what you do to me, you make me so hard I can’t even think straight anymore.” He pinched your hard nipple from above the fabric. “You have no idea how much I want to rip this off of you but I know you’d kill me,” he chuckled in your ear.

“I don’t give a shit.” You blurted out, not evens embarrassed about how fast you said it.

“What do you want baby? Talk to me.”

God it was so damn hard talking when you were so horny you couldn’t even remember your name, the denied orgasm making things worse.

“You. Fuck me, please. I need you so badly Derek.”

He tightened his hand lightly around your neck, cupping your chin then turning your head towards him and before you knew it he slammed his lips onto yours, sucking the breath from your body as his tongue explored your mouth in a sloppy, deep kiss.

He slowly slid the fingers of his other hand – that until a few seconds before were on your breast – along your chest, your lower abdomen, touching your needy and drenched pussy with his fingertips. You whined during the kiss, spontaneously lifting your hips to try and meet his fingers.

God you were hating him at that moment.

“I can smell your wetness from here, is my baby horny for me?” he whispered on your lips swollen and red from the impetuous kiss.

“I’ll fucking kill you right now Morgan I swear to god.”

He laughed and your stomach clenched in on itself. “Don’t worry baby, I’m here. I’m going to fuck your brains out, so good you won’t even be able to get up when I’m done with you.” This time it was your pussy that clenched when you squeezed your legs together for some friction. Derek let go of your throat and began to play with your panties. Your breath hitched as he slowly began to lower them, trailing them down your legs.

“I think I’ll keep these too,” he whispered even as his voice came loud and clear to your ears. You turned your head to the side so you could look at him and let out a ragged sigh when you saw him kneeling behind you. His eyes shone under the light of the hotel room as they looked at you with so much intensity that they alone would’ve been enough to set you on fire.

He left a kiss on your ass, making you gasp to the point of embarrassment as he bit your skin and groped your now bare ass. “One day I’ll fuck this pretty little ass too and you’ll love every second of it.”

“You can start by fucking my pussy now.”

He chuckled again as he stood up. He placed a hand on your heated back, inviting you to lean on the bed in front of you and you obeyed, resting your hands on the bed and giving him a perfect view of your ass.

“I can see from here how wet you are baby girl,” he moved closer to you, his bare thighs touching yours and then you realized he had removed the towel from his waist.

God have mercy on me.

“I’ll eat this beautiful pussy later but now all I can think about is fucking her so good,” he said as his fingers brushed against you and this little contact, combined with his dirty words, made you squirm with anticipation. “After all, you deserve it after being such a good girl all day.”

You felt him place his tip near your entrance and you both moaned as he slid his dick against your folds, wetting it with your fluids. He provoked you, tortured you with every motion, it was what he was best at, he knew which points to touch to drive you crazy and leave you painfully longing.

“Derek please, I want you so much,” you whined in a pathetic tone full of lust and desire as he continued to penetrate you with just the tip and then pull out. You hated him and wanted him at the same time, so much it hurt.

“What do you want, princess?” His hands gripped your hips and he leaned over you, pressing his lips to your skin before leaving damp, wet kisses all over your back.

“Fuck me.”

“Fuck,” he hissed through gritted teeth before lining his dick up with your entrance and finally filling you.

“Oh God yes, you feel so god Derek.” You panted vigorously, your heart beating so hard it almost stopped as you felt his soft and especially bare skin touching every corner of you.

He remained still for a few moments, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to maintain control of his body. You were so wet and it felt so good being inside you, Derek feared that with just one push he would’ve come on the spot.

“Baby please… Move…”

Baby.

Fuck.

That simple little word had no business making his insides twist like he had. You were used to calling each other nicknames, it wasn’t new, but there was something in that ‘baby’ you said: perhaps it was the vulnerability with which you pronounced it, breathless and as if he was the only one who could save you, the way your voice was so full of desire.

Derek pulled out before thrusting into you again with a strong thrust so deep if it hadn’t been for his hands firmly gripping your hips you would’ve probably fallen forward.

“You have no idea what you do to me, fucking hell you drive me crazy,” he breathed out, head tilted back and eyes closed as his dick pounded into you like he was angry.

You tried to formulate a meaningful sentence but as you opened your lips only gasps and moans came out. He was fucking you so deeply that with each thrust you felt a piece of your brain coming out of your head and your soul out of your body.

Exactly like he promised.

All the hidden frustration made its way and exploded like a time bomb, not much time passing until even the orgasm began to build inside you.

Your face was pressed into the sheets of the bed, your breathing heavy and quickening as your hands clenched the fabric into a fist. “Derek…” you whimpered in pleasure as you pushed your pelvis towards him with each thrust. It didn’t seem to be enough though, you wanted more and more.

One of his hands continued to hold your hips firmly while he slid the other along your back, until he reached your hair which he tightened in a fist forcing you to lift your head. His moans and groans sounded like music to your ears and you couldn’t contain the joy of knowing it was you who made him feel this way, it was you who made him lose control.

“Fuck I could stay inside you forever, you take me so well. This pussy was made for me,” he groaned as the tip of his dick hit your G-spot, making you see stars. You wanted to answer but when you opened your mouth all that came out were moans and sighs. “Just for me… You understand?”

“Just you baby, only you,” you babbled while loudly moaning, not caring one bit if someone could hear you having sex.

His lips kissed your shoulder, his tongue traced every inch of skin he could reach. “That’s right pretty girl…” he groaned in your ear, his sentence interrupted by another moan. “Fuck yeah you’re mine.”

“Holy shit baby… I’m about to come…” You managed to say and the orgasm that hit you full on like a truck gave you no mercy, didn’t let you escape as it sucked away your ability to breath. If it wasn’t for Derek’s hand still in your hair you would’ve collapsed on the mattress.

His thrusts became unhinged, even more out of control than they were before and it didn’t take long for him to reach his climax too. How could he resist? There was no chance, not when your pussy was tightening around his dick in the throes of orgasmic spasms, leaving him no escape.

Derek exploded inside you, emptying himself into you until the last drop of his seed filled your pussy, then leaking from your entrance and sliding down your thighs as he pulled out.

“Shit,” he breathed as you felt the weight of the mattress dip as he collapsed next to you. “You destroy me baby, how do you manage to do this every single time?”

You mumbled something nonsensical in response, eyes closed and too tired to say anything. He chuckled and stroked your hair, brushing it away from your face so he could get a good look at you.

You were so beautiful, ethereal, so mesmerizing it hurt and seeing that happy and pleased look on your face almost sent him to his knees, internally promising himself he’d fight every single person on earth just to always see you so relaxed and happy.

“How many women do you tell this?” you managed to say, opening one eye and keeping the other closed and a flock of butterflies exploded in your stomach when you saw the breathtaking smile he was looking at you with.

“If you think there is someone capable of making me feel what you feel, you’re very wrong. Like I already said, I don’t know what strange witchcraft you did to me but you really hooked me baby.” He propped himself up on one elbow and leaned towards you, pressing small kisses across your face, neck, shoulders and all the way up to your lips. “There is no one else since you came in in my life, I’m so obsessed with you it’s not even funny.”

You opened your second eye too, suddenly not so tired anymore. “Really?”

“Why, isn’t the same for you?” he asked, his stomach clenched with jealousy at the thought of a man laying a finger on you. “Please tell me no or someone help me I will kill every man who even looked at you, I’m an FBI agent and I know how to hide dead bodies in such a way that not even the families will ever find them.”

You burst out laughing, and rolled onto your back before throwing your arms around his neck so you could bring him closer to you and press your lips to his. “Don’t you think that’s a bit extreme?”

“Y/n. Don’t fucking test me.”

“I’m just kidding,” your lips brushed against his before planting another small kiss on them. “There couldn’t be another man even if they forced me, you’ve really messed up my life Agent Morgan and I’m pretty much obsessed with you too.”

“That better be. We’re exclusive since the day I kissed you in that elevator,” he grumbled. “God I love when you call me baby,” he then sighed happily and the way his mood shifted so quickly made. Your fingers caressed his soft, perfect skin and he mumbled with contentment. You noticed how his pupils were so dilated the chocolate surrounding them had almost disappeared. “Mine, only mine.”

“And you’re mine darling, I’m an FBI agent too and I know a thousand ways to make deaths look like accidents.” He pressed his lips to yours again, kissing you so deeply your heart almost stopped in your chest.

Derek Morgan would be the death of you, you were certain of that.

“Just give me five more minutes and I’ll show you how much we belong to each other princess, how much I look, think and breathe for you only.”

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[lewisvinga]

around the world | lewis hamilton x fem! reader

summary; influencer y/n decides to do the trend of showing off her outfits with lewis as they traveled around the world.

warnings; none ??

word count; 815

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

note; requested! this was longer than expected😭😭

masterlist !

“Okay, ready?” Y/n questions after setting up her phone on the desk in their room. They were currently in their hotel room in Las Vegas, almost ready to leave for the opening of the Las Vegas Grand Prix when she got the idea to shoot the tiktok.

“Wait, what do I do again?” Lewis asked with a chuckle, smoothing down the long black coat he wore on top of a black top with a deep v-neck.

“I showed you like 20 times, Lew.”

“Was too distracted by your pretty face.”

Y/n playfully rolls her eyes, ignoring the blush on her face as she holds one hand out. “Just clap my hand while crossing your legs at the same time.” She explains while copying the motion.

Since they were known as a fashionable couple who always matched, she wore a similar outfit to his but in a dress form. She wore a midi tight black dress with a v-neck and a matching black coat. They both wore their matching pearl necklaces from Valentino and even had matching sunglasses. She of course had her black mini Kelly in hand, an anniversary gift from him from a couple years prior.

“Ready, Lew?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, gorgeous.”

Y/n puts on the countdown and takes a couple steps back to make sure their full outfits are in the frame. The moment the song began, she held her hand out and Lewis did exactly what she explained to him.

“Perfect, now I just gotta remember when we go to Abu Dhabi.”

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“Okay, now we do the same but in these outfits,” Y/n explains again, adjusting her phone in his driver's room. Fortunately, she was quick to remember to record the next part of her TikTok.

They both wore baggy red pants but Lewis wore a white Mercedes shirt while she just wore a plain white blouse with a white Lady Dior in hand.

“Same thing as last week, right?” He asked with a smile as she began the timer.

“Exactly!” She nods in reply, her smile matching his. The song began to play and they copied the same movement they did the week before. Once it was over, she quickly grabbed her phone to check the footage. “Oh, this is gonna be amazing once we finish!”

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“Roscoe, sit,” Lewis tells the bulldog who wore a wide smile. They both watch as Y/n props up her phone on the front porch of their home in England.

The ground was white with snow and the sky let more snowflakes fall. They were wearing layers upon layers due to the freezing temperatures. Of course, they had matching navy blue jackets, and even Roscoe wore a matching vest. Their pants were both black but he wore black boots while she opted for navy boots.

She adjusts the grey scarf she wore that matches his as she starts the timer. “Roscoe, smile for the camera!” She exclaimed, rushing over to stand on the other side of the dog.

Roscoe was seemingly posing as the song began once again, and again Lewis and Y/n did the same movement.

“Roscoe is gonna look so good in that one!” He lets out a laugh, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he bends down to pet his bulldog’s head.

“He’s such a good boy, aren’t you, Roscoe?”

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“Ending it with Brazil?”

“To let the fans know it’s our honeymoon.” Y/n replies in a ‘duh’ tone. She smiled at him and glanced at their matching outfit once again. Lewis had decided to take his braids out and wear his natural curls for the summer, something he usually does when he isn’t racing.

His honey-brown curls were tied into a low bun and covered by a blue hat. He wore an oversized yellow Nike shirt and an earth-green tone pair of baggy pants. Y/n opted for wearing a skirt the same color and a blue Christian Dior tote bag instead of the cap. She also wore a yellow Nike top but it was fitted instead of loose.

It was one of her favorite outfits in one of their favorite countries. Brazil was always special to him and it became special to her, hence their honeymoon location.

“Okay, last one, and be ready!” She exclaims, pressing the countdown once again.

Lewis couldn’t help but stare at her with adoration in his eyes and a loving smile as they did the same moves for the last part of her video. He can already see all the comments they’d get on how he stared at her but he honestly couldn’t care.

He zoned out as he watched Y/n get excited over the video. He was eternally grateful that he was able to go around the world with his wife by his side.

[titan-senpai]

What the hell??

A young lady who was a model lived on earth ended in a tragic way.. and ended up in hell somehow? While she cant hurt a fly..

Part 2

I woke up on the cold streets in the middle of nowhere.. " Where am i.." Holding my head trying to stand up, taking a look around, seeing creatures everywhere. " What the.." I blinked a few times not believing my eyes. I turned my head and saw a shop with mirrors and took a look at my reflection.

shocked to see my own reflection.. White with red marks on my body.. then i turned around and asked a girl "Little girl can you tell me where i am?" The little girl just laughed. " You're new around here?" She took a drink of her milkshake. I just nodded.

" Wel.. Welcome to hell! " She laughed walking away from me " Goodluck newbie" I stood there in shock.

How did I end up here? Wat.. it was that bastard.. looking at my red spots indicating wounds. It's all his fault...I felt my knees get weak as I fell down on them next to the shop.

I don't know How many hours have passed by but out of nowhere a girl walked by me taking an interest in me. "let me guess.. your new?" She said chewing her gum looking at her phone.. she's probably addicted. I nodded.

" You've got good bone structure and a taste in fashion.." She cupped my face looking at it.. " You wanna work for me?" she let go letting me stand up. I took a look at her clothing and thought it must be an influencer or something.

" Whatcha say dear... I need a yes or no." She said firmly and I nodded without saying anything. "Follow me." As she walked away I followed her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Walking into a building called VoxTech? Following her into the elevator as she presses the highest button and scans the card. "Names Velvette.." She checked her phone again, typing away.

"My name is Y/N." I fidgeted my hands anxiously. The elevator door opens revealing a room filled with Photos of her and 2 other guys.

"VOX VAL! get your asses here" She yelled into her phone. Dramatic much.

Seeing a spark out of a tv turn into a guy with a tv head while the other was nowhere to be found. "VAL NO JOKES!" She yelled as smoke entered the room. Turning into a man with 4 arms.

" This is the girl i was talking about.. take a look at her" she walked off sitting on the couch nearby checking her phone.

" And what do we have here.." taking a look at me while he checks me out breathing smoke into my shoulders feeling his breath giving me shivers, "your a pretty one aren't you.." feeling his breath closer to me M" Doll..." walking to his desk. "And what is your talent?" The TV headed guy asked me. "i.." Speechless as I left a shaky breath shivering.

"No time for chit chat.. I'll figure her talent out, follow me me newbie" velvette said walking to the room, opening the door revealing a whole wardrobe " FIrst let's get you dressed.. Cant have them see you with us wearing normie clothes can we.." She smirked, pushing me in the room. " Pick one.. I'll be outside." I looked at the clothes, feeling fine silky clothes. None of them caught my interest.

Looking in the mirror at the end of the room touching my clothes that I currently have on. Imagining the clothes i used to wear. and suddenly my hands start to glow. and they started to make the clothes i was thinking off. and soon I was holding them.

20 Minutes passed and I heard a knock " R you done yet dear.." I opened the door walking out in baggy jeans with a Crop top with a window revealing my cleavage a bit and a Jacket with fur. White boots to match the white bag.

" You look fabulous dear.. Where did you get these? I don't have these in my small closet.." I finally let go of her phone pointing at my clothes.

" I think i figured out my talent.." showing her my hands. " Welcome to the Vees my dear.." 

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[munsonluhvr]

WATERWORKS!

synopsis: older!eddie munson x college student!reader. out on a joyride, Eddie subsequently passes your sorority car wash fundraiser and decides his clean car desperately needs to be washed. word count - 4.5k (!) warnings: 18+ smut with a teensy plot. fingering, body parts described, choking, spanking, squirting, cream pie, age gap, not spell checked yet!

In all honesty, Eddie has no reason to be pulling into your sorority houses’ driveway, forking over twenty dollars for you to wash his car, but he knew he had to when he saw you. It’s a warm day, just a few days after the end of summer, only a few days into the new school year. The hot sun beats down the earth making it the perfect day to stand in a bikini all day, hosting a car wash fundraiser. 

Eddie had been minding his own business, taking a joy ride in his new red corvette, enjoying all the progress he’s made in his life thus far. It was only a half hour into his day out and about when he noticed your sorority hosting a car wash, more specifically seeing you stand at the edge of the sidewalk with a sign that read: ‘Car Wash 4 A Good Cause; 20 Bucks or Free if UR Sexy!’ It was the sign that caught his attention first, but it was you that held his gaze long enough that he almost rear-ended the car in front of him.

You are a sleek little vixen, barefoot on the sidewalk, your drenched hair pulled back to show your beautiful, angelic face. You are hardly dressed, your body adorned in the skimpiest bikini Eddie had ever seen. It was a no brainer; he slows his car, flicking the blinker on to turn into the driveway. 

Eddie’s car was pointed in the direction of commotion, lines and lines of cars parked in different directions, males of all different ages scattered across the front yard either talking to girls that  suggestively scrub their cars or just watching from a distance. Eddie didn’t care about any of the other girls that flock to the cars, slipping folded bills into their bikini tops or bottoms. He just wanted to watch you bend over his car, breasts pressed against the hood of his car.

He watches, in his sideview mirror, as you wipe your forehead with the back of your hand, your arms dropping down with the handmade sign, your body wilting with exhaustion. It was hard work to wave a sign around, especially in the hot sun. All you want to do is sit inside with some water, far away from the seething hot sun. 

You’re bored, annoyed with cars honking and men whistling; you didn’t want to be the one holding the sign, but you had been forced to by the other girls. You decide to take a break, and you turn on your heel, beginning to walk up the driveway to the front lawn where the rest of the sorority worked. It was then that you notice a bright red corvette, clearly brand new, and that the driver was glancing over at you. You watch as he offers you a small smile, his hand that dangles on the outside of the car pick itself up and offer you a wave. He’s cute, clearly older, late twenties, early thirties at the latest. You feel your day, and your energy, start to pick up. 

Within a few paces you stand at the driver’s side of the stranger’s car, bending forward, placing your hands on your mid-thigh, as you peer into the car. “Here for the car wash?” 

The curly haired man nods, his eyes lingering down your nearly naked body. “That, amongst other things.” 

You smile innocently. “Doesn’t look like your car needs to be washed.” And it’s true; as you stand close to the car you see how it’s practically new, not a speck of dirt on the exterior, not a single scratch. Standing close to the window, you can also smell the scent of brand-new leather, the car barely lived in.  

He shrugs, his eyes looking forward then back to you. “A car can always use a good wash. I’m Eddie by the way.”

You raise your eyebrows, already amused by the man in front of you. “It’s nice to meet you, Eddie. I’m y/n. If you pull up, I’m sure one of the girls will happily wash your car.” 

Eddie hums, glancing in front of him where tens of girls scantily clad in bikinis, soap suds clinging to their arms and legs, scurry across the sorority house lawn to attend to the ever-growing line of customers. “They all look pretty busy with cars already. Can’t you help me?” 

You clasp your hands in front of you, understanding, now, that Eddie wants you to clean his car, not anybody else. You purse your lips and make an over-exaggerated sigh, though a hint of a smile is displayed across your face. “I suppose I could. Pull on up.” You gesture for Eddie to follow you up the driveway, searching for a free spot for Eddie to park his car. 

As you walk, Eddie is lucky that he doesn’t run his car into someone else’s as his eyes are completely entranced by your ass that’s exposed in your bright yellow bikini bottoms. He clenches his jaw, doing the best he can to park where you gesture towards, as he feels himself grow hard in his jeans. The lust he feels, staring at your nearly naked body, cloaked in a light sheen of sweat, is unbearable. 

“You can stay in the car if you want,” you say, watching Eddie move to step out of the car. “It’s kind of the whole point of the car wash in the convenience for the customer, you know? Pull in, get your car washed by a girl in a bikini, then pull out.” 

Eddie shrugs, closing the driver’s side door. “Darling, I wouldn’t want to pull out, but I think I’d prefer to watch from outside of the car.”  

You feel your cheeks flush, the back of your neck get hot with heat. All day, boys from the surrounding fraternities, or creepy, married men have been in and out of the sorority driveway. However, there is something about Eddie that’s so edgy, nerdy yet confident. Eddie is a refreshing change; one you want to entertain for a little while. “Suit yourself,” you say, as you bend over, dunking your hand into the bucket of cold, soapy water, then pull your hand out with a sopping wet sponge. 

Eddie stands a foot or two away from you, his arms crossed against his chest. He watches closely as you pick up a super-sized sponge, bubbling with soap bubbles, dripping with water, and smudge it across the hood of his car. His heart thumps against his chest watching as water trickles out of the sponge, down his shiny red car, and dribbles down your thighs. 

You move slowly, bending across his car further and further, as you work hard to scrub the imaginary dirt off his car. You can feel Eddie’s eyes on your body, knowing his eyes must be as wide as saucers, his skin crawling with lust, his stomach churning with anticipation - you just have that impact on men. You move to the opposite side of Eddie’s car, working on the other side of the hood. Now you face Eddie’s direction, making a show of leaning over his car, once again, pressing your breasts against the car, flicking your eyes to meet his only for a fleeting second, enough to get his heart rate up even further. 

Once you turned your eyes back to his car, Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, suddenly feeling disoriented. Was it the sun and the heat or was it you that was making him feel this way? It had been a long time since Eddie pursued a girl, he was never very good at it. He had a small sense of confidence, but that only got him so far. Now, he’s several years older, still unexperienced, yet here he is, letting you seduce him happily, not knowing if he’ll do anything about it. 

You continue to work on Eddie’s car, making your way around his vehicle. Every move, every stretch you make is calculated, made to manipulate the male mind. It’s fun, you think, to put on a show for a boy, no a man. It had been so long since you been intimate, the boy you were surrounded by were useless, only out to use the female body to solely pleasure themselves. The act of being fucked boys that were in college was a cold venture, one that only left you feeling alone and empty – and certainly not feeling any pleasure at all. You had hoped you’d meet someone older, someone who would care about how you felt. Now here stands Eddie, clearly older, clearly into you by the way his cock is so clearly pressing against his jeans, and the way he makes no attempt to hide it. It’s worth a try, you think. 

With one last swipe of Eddie’s car, you take the hose that snakes throughout the driveway and spray his car down. Lastly, you take a soft towel, wiping the small droplets from his windows. You were finally done, your body more exhausted then before. 

When you turn your attention back to Eddie, he’s holding out a twenty-dollar bill. “I think I recall your sign saying it’s twenty dollars.” 

“Then you’d also recall that the sign also said it’s free if you’re sexy, so you can keep your money,” you say, wiping your wet hands on the towel. 

Eddie frowns lightly, then smirks. “All that hard work you just did for free?” 

You shrug, mimicking the way Eddie shrugged earlier. “What can I say? I’m eager to please, especially for a pretty guy like you.” 

Standing in front of Eddie, you see the size difference between you two. You’re shorter then Eddie, your body much smaller than his. Even from where you stand, you can smell his cologne, the scent making you salivate – you’re a sucker for good smelling cologne. He’s dressed in all dark colors; his body lean underneath his fashionably tattered clothing. It was then you realize that you want him bad.

“Oh, really? For an old guy like me?” Eddie says, interested to gauge your feelings on older men. He is sure you’re constantly approached by guys of all ages, constantly turning heads or breaking hearts. 

You lean against his car, crossing your ankles and crossing your arms against your chest. “It’s even better that you’re older. Guys my age don’t know anything about how to please a girl,” You unfold your arms, making a show of glancing at your fingernails. “Emotionally or physically.” 

Eddie gulps, scenario after scenario rolling over in his mind Thoughts of every position he wants to fold you in to in a matter of minutes, replacing the soapy water trailing down your legs with ropes of his own cum comes to him immediately. “A girl as pretty as you shouldn’t be neglected emotionally or physically.” 

You glance at Eddie now, knowing that you have his full attention. “Tell me about it.” 

Your eyes linger on each other, tension as thick as the heat hanging between you. You forget that the rest of your sorority is hard at work around you, cars entering and exiting the driveway consistently. All you can focus on is Eddie. “You look parched,” you say suddenly, pushing yourself off his car. “Why don’t you come inside.” 

Eddie nods without saying a word. He’s pretty sure he’d walk to the ends of the earth for you. Eagerly, he follows behind you as you weave through the cars parked in the driveway and across the lawn. You glance over your shoulder once, amused to catch Eddie’s eyes stuck on your rear end once again. You have this man wrapped around your finger. 

You push open the front door of the sorority house, noticing how a few of the girls had sought refuge from the customers and heat within the kitchen and cavernous living room. Eddie’s eyes disconnect from your body to look around the house. He honestly never thought he’d ever find himself in a sorority house, he could never imagine a sorority girl giving him the time of day. But here he is- here you are. The inside is large, all the furniture in the rooms dwarfed by the tall ceilings and large rooms. 

“Come this way,” you say softly, gesturing towards the large, winding staircase that’s directly at the front door. Your feet are tempted to carry you to your room quickly, but you do your best to stay composed, not allowing yourself to showcase your eagerness. At the top of the winding staircase, the hallway to the bedrooms is long. As you walk, you pass door after door, each of your sorority sister’s rooms. Finally, you reach yours near the end of the hallway. 

You remember that your room is messy, but you don’t care. You doubt Eddie would even notice; you can feel his eyes glued to your backside. 

You open your bedroom door, glancing over your shoulder to encourage Eddie to follow you into your room. You notice his eyes flick to across your bedroom, landing on your messy bed, the blankets, and bedsheets all tangled. 

Eddie clears his throat. “Is it okay if I’m up here?” 

Technically, boys aren’t allowed in the sorority house, especially not in the bedrooms. You shake your head softly. “No, but I’m sure we can make it quick.” You let a small smile play across your mouth as you clasp your hands in front of you. 

Eddie’s eyes widen, your insinuation making him realize your intentions loud and clear.  Underneath his jeans, Eddie can feel his bulge begin to ache even more, his core aching from anticipation. Even you can feel the tension between you and Eddie, it’s clear you find each other attractive. Between your thighs, you can feel your stomach tingle with excitement; what kind of pleasure this encounter hold for you? 

You back yourself up to your bed, feeling a small chill standing in your airconditioned room in a skimpy bikini. Your heart thumps against your chest, your breath escaping your body. Eddie takes a small step towards you, biting at his bottom lip. You are the loveliest sight Eddie has ever seen, so delicate and soft but he so badly wants to be rough with you, turn your body inside out with pleasure. 

Now merely a few inches from each other, Eddie reaches his hand out, his fingertips brushing against your cheekbone. His fingertips tails across your face, guiding their way to your lips. Instinctively, you part your lips, Eddie taking advantage and slipping his thumb into your mouth. Your eyes flutter shut, tasting the salty sweetness of his skin. Watching you suck his finger, Eddie loses his breath, the feeling of your tongue around his finger too much to bear. 

You take the opportunity to reach your hands out, playing with the hem of his t-shirt. You lift up slowly, and Eddie lets his thumb slip out of your mouth, helping you lift his shirt off. Now you see his torso, his soft skin decorated with scattered tattoos. Your mouth salivates at the sight of his happy trail, disappearing into the band of his jeans. 

You lean forward, raising up on your toes to let your lips hover of Eddie’s. Without a second thought, Eddie cups your face, his lips pushing into yours. He steps forward once, twice, and you step back once, twice. You gracefully fall back onto your bed, your legs parting to allow room for Eddie. With one swift movement, Eddie reaches his hand behind your back, pulling at the string of your bikini, the string unraveling and your top slipping off. 

At the sight of your bare chest, Eddie can’t help but groan. He cups your breast with his large hand, his head ducking down to let his lips envelope your nipple. Instantly, your head throws back, the feeling of his tongue flicking across your nipple heavenly. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your lips parting just in time for a soft moan to escape from your throat. 

Letting his fingertips drag across your torso, Eddie slips his hand into your bikini bottoms, his fingertips grazing your cunt. You hold onto his shoulder for balance, your fingers gripping him tightly. With ease, Eddie continues to place his body over yours, arranging yourself on your bed comfortably. Anticipation and lust begins to bunch in your stomach, arousal beginning to drip from between your thighs. 

“You’re so pretty,” Eddie mumbles, his mind spinning. He places his lips on your jaw, messy kisses trailing down the front of your throat. His fingertips begin to work against your sensitive core, teasing your entrance. Your thighs tremble, pressure building in the bottom of your abdomen. Eddie’s movements are slow and sensuous, and your hips begin to rock back and forth against his hand, unable to take his slow movements any longer. You begin to whine softly. 

Without warning, Eddie plunges his long digits into you, curling in the right spot to turn your whine into a loud moan. Already, you can see the difference between the ridiculous college boys you’ve played with and the man that Eddie is. Pleasure courses through your torso, your skin tingling, a shiver running down your back. Your thighs begin to clench around Eddie’s hand, begging him to keep going. 

Your arms reach out, your fingertips seeking eagerly to unbuckle the belt that holds his jeans. With success, Eddie’s belt buckle unravels in your hand, your hand moving away to palm his bulging cock over his jeans. Over you, Eddie shutters at the sensation of your touch, his breath leaving his body. He so badly wants to have his way with you, but he knows he’d rather take his time. 

Not able to sustain your calmness further, you unzip the zipper on Eddie’s jeans, his cock already pressing against his boxers. As you attempt to work his jeans off, Eddie continues to plunge his finger deep into you, causing your ambition to de-clothe Eddie to take longer then usual. 

Just as Eddie jeans dip passed his mid-thigh, his cock springs out from underneath his boxers. His member is large, larger then you could have ever imagined. At the very tip, a drop of pre-cum slithers out, the veins protruding across the thickness of his cock. Your mouth waters just at the sight, an intense need for him to fill you blossoming in your abdomen. 

To be able to help you pull his jeans off, Eddie lets his fingers slide out of you, your bottom half feeling empty and incomplete without Eddie’s touch. With one swift movement, Eddie’s jeans and boxers are off and all that’s left is your bright yellow bikini bottoms. 

Eddie presses his lips on your neck, and begins to trail down to your stomach, feeling the warmth of your skin underneath his light touch. Hooking his pointer fingers at your sides, Eddie gracefully pulls your bottoms off, leaving you completely naked. Without much thought, Eddie drops the skimpy article of clothing on the floor beside your bed. You blush in your nakedness, feeling your eyes flutter shut. 

Eddie parts your legs gently, lowering his head towards your bottom half. His warm breath flushes against your skin, goosebumps beginning to appear down your thighs. With every second that goes by, the anticipation grows thicker, leaving you breathless, arousal gathering between your thighs.

Eddie feels his anxiousness jitter throughout his fingers, his hands trembling ever so slightly. His hands tighten around the flesh of your things, prying your legs open. Without the slightest hesitation, Eddie lets his lips connect with your slick cunt, his tongue beginning to work on your immediately. 

Your head throws back in instant pleasure, your thighs beginning to tremble from the motion of his tongue. You begin to writher underneath Eddie’s touch, and he tightens his grips around your legs to hold you still and in place. Your toes curl as he continues to go on, your muscles tightening and releasing rhythmically.

Eddie is in bliss, the taste of you sweet to his tastebuds. You are so soft, so gentle, yet so bold and in charge. Although Eddie doesn’t know you well, not even at all, he knows that he has found heaven between your sun-kissed thighs. 

Eddie blinks back into consciousness, noticing how your body is reacting to his touch. He looks up at you, seeing how your eyes are fluttered shut, the bright sunshine from your window above your dashing across your face, your back arched from the pleasure. His only goal is to make you feel good, to let pleasure course through your body, so he does what automatically comes to his mind – he plunges his fingers back into you. 

A loud squeal escapes your lips, followed by your hands grabbing at your bedsheets. The frat boys have never made you feel like this before, not even close. 

With rhythm, Eddie plunges his fingers in and out of you, causing pressure to build in your lower abdomen. It’s only been several minutes and already you feel yourself getting close; you don’t want your time with Eddie to end.

Without warning, around Eddie’s fingers you squirt profusely, your thighs trembling around Eddie’s head. A strong course of pleasure runs up and down your body, leaving you breathless and exhausted once your orgasm is through. On the other hand, Eddie is energized by your loud moans.

Coming up from between your thighs, Eddie hovers over your slumped body, his large hand lightly grasping over your throat. He doesn’t want to scare you with this move, it is after all the first encounter you’ve ever had with each other, but he wants to take control a little more. 

His long nimble fingers place themselves around the length of your neck, and your eyes flutter open at his grasp on you. You feel small underneath Eddie’s touch, and you love the feeling. 

With his other hand, Eddie reaches down to part your thighs again, and then adjusting himself to line up with you. 

Eddie dips his face down, hovering over your lips; they brush yours ever so slightly. “Can I?” he asks softly. Your hand reaches out to grasp his bicep, anticipating the intoxicating burn of a thick cock entering you. You nod eagerly. Eddie lets go of his grasp on your neck, leaning on to his arm to position himself comfortably. 

With ease, Eddie pushes himself into you. You feel yourself stretch around his length, a slight groan escaping from your lips. You squeeze your eyes shut, seeing stars, a fluttering feeling emerging in your chest. 

Evenly, Eddie moves back and forth out of you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. His fingers drag the length of your side, finding your hands in the process. He intertwines his fingers with yours, enveloping his hand over his. You squeeze back, the small gesture making the moment more intimate with this complete stranger. Your legs find the strength to wrap around Eddie’s waist, driving him further into you. 

With slow strokes, Eddie brings you immense pleasure, making you wonder why luck was on your side to meet such a generous stranger out of nowhere.

You and Eddie stay in the missionary position for a moment, slight eye contact here and there. You’re drawn in by the soft brown of his eyes and the darkness of his pupils. He was a beautiful human, his messy, curly brown hair adding to his attractiveness. 

You’re brought out of your thoughts when Eddie pulls his upper body away from you, your body feeling cold from the lack of warmth from his body. He pulls you up with him, making a quick movement to flip you on your stomach. 

Your head spins from the quick movement but feel a small smile creeping across your mouth: oh, how you love being manhandled. 

Lifting your hips with both hands, Eddie elevates your bottom half, placing you on your hands and knees. Once you’re in a stable position, Eddie guides himself back into you, pushing in roughly. You gasp, loving the feeling of him inside of you all over again. 

You jolt when Eddie places a small smack on your bottom, adding spanking into the mix. You offer a small giggle, biting your lip in the process. The sharp sting of his hand meeting your soft skin makes your stomach flutter in a way that’s never happened before. You find the feeling dangerous as you become curious at the other kinks you’d find exhilarating. 

Behind you, Eddie’s movements become rigid, his back-and-forth movements no longer fluid. He inhales sharply, his grip tightening on your waist. 

Eddie feels woozy, pressure building in his lower abdomen. He knows he’s close, though he doesn’t want to be. He wants his moment with you to go on forever, laying out on your bed to recover and when you’re ready, fuck you in all different angles all over again. 

He inhales and exhales sharply, his heart beating fast and blood flowing rapidly throughout his body. He pushes into you one last time, a thick load filling you to the brim completely. Eddie’s cum leaks out from around his member, beginning to drip down your legs. Although you’ve already orgasmed, the feeling of Eddie dribbling down your legs is nearly orgasmic. 

As you hold yourself up, your arms and legs quiver with exhaustion. You slump against your bedsheets, your muscles not about to help you sit up. “That was…really fun.” You say, then frown at your own words. You feel like you sound juvenile, though what you said was trust; it was indeed a lot of fun. 

Eddie smiles, nodding once. Although, he’s distracted by looking at the specks of his semen that decorate parts of your thighs. “I-I’m glad. Nothing I did was too much?” 

You shake your head. “Not in the slightest.” You watch as Eddie gets up from the end of the bed, beginning to pick up his clothes that are scattered across your bedroom floor. You wish Eddie didn’t have to go so soon but you know it’s for the best; the last thing you want is for your sorority sisters to notice that you’ve broken the most important rule – no boys in the bedroom. 

Your naked body captivates Eddie as he glances down at you while refastening his belt. It seemed like only seconds ago he was about to pass you by on the road, and now here you are lounging gracefully on your bed in front of him. And to think it all started with spotting you in your bright yellow bikini. 

“You know,” you hum, bending over to search for spare clothes to throw on. You really want to see Eddie again and to not let this be the first and last time you interact with him. “We’re having another car wash next weekend. Your car might need another scrub by then.” 

Eddie laughs flattered that you want to see him again. “My car will absolutely be dirty by then; I’ll for sure swing by.” 

[genderqueerdykes]

holy shit wait…your 32???

I…im gonna cry

I didn’t know we can live this long…

not just trans mass but…

alterhuman…and plurals..and…

I can’t…

so happy

gonna cry……..

yes i am! i was born in 1992 :)

that's exactly why i have my age in my bio- i've wanted to show people that you don't "outgrow" fundamental parts of your identity. it's natural to adopt and shed identities as we age, but i've been out as genderqueer since 19! nothing has changed, i'm still the same genderqueer person i was all those years ago!

and if anything- life has gotten better in my 30s. as a word of advice to most people out there: your teen years and your twenties FUCKING SUCK!!!!!!!! they tell you those are the "best years of your life" but they're NOT- you're growing into a world that is terrifying and doesn't understand you. you're scared. your brain and body are still developing and you're constantly facing new challenges. those are honestly i think the HARDEST years of your life, hands down

when i was a teenager, i would think to myself "phht there's literally no way i'm making it past 25 lmao" and figure that life ends after 25. well, that day came where i turned 25... and nothing changed.

and then i turned 30. still, nothing changed

now i'm 32 and... nothing has changed. maturation happens with age, yes, but it doesn't mean that you're suddenly a completely different person. people have such a shitty view on 30 year olds, like it's somehow "embarrassing" to be above the age of 25 years old. people in their 30s are constantly picked on, we're constantly told to "act our age" when... we are. i'm happier than ever realizing that I made it to my 30s, still trans, still nonhuman, still plural

i've been in treatment for DID since 2017, and while i've healed a lot, i have not integrated with my alters, and i never will. i don't want to. this is how my brain functions. the dissociation can be a nightmare for me, but my brain needs different people inside of it in order to be able to function properly. we tried to force ourselves to live as a singlet for 3 years and what ended up happening was that host at that time cracked from being under the constant pressure and still has never returned. the amount of stress it placed on us to try to live as a singlet was not worth it. at all

there hasn't been a singular moment in my adult life where i stopped being nonhuman, either. that was something that i never even tried to force myself out of. i never viewed it as weird or something that i should "outgrow"- i told my own mother that i did not identify as human as a child and that never left me. even now, i still wear dog collars, ears, tails, and take nature walks and do things to make myself feel more like my nonhuman selves. i'm still a furry, too!

i might not be a queer "elder" yet, but i'm happy as can be to be able to be an older queer person who can use their experience to help younger folks. thanks for sending this message! trust me, there really is a life after your 20s. your teens and 20s suck massively. but after i passed 30 i became more down to earth about my age. it's not a bad thing to live past 20- in fact, it's a badge of honor. i made it. i'm still breathing, i'm still here, still queer, despite all attempts to prevent me from still being here.

i'm going to continue be here for a long, long time, and you can be here with me, too.

take care of yourself! thanks for stopping by!

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Saving What Was Lost Part 1: You’re Safe With Me✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: The first chapter is finally here, and I’m so excited to bring this to all the healing girlies that need a protective, soft Joel in their life 🥺 Thank you to @alltheirdamn and @mountainsandmayhem for screaming about them with me. This is raw, heavy, and very emotional. I hope you love it as much as I do 🥹 Screaming because I need a hug from this man 😭

Chapter Summary: The night of the auction, the night you’ll have to face your fate of being bought. But an unexpected man dips his money in and fights for you. His eyes are soft, kind, unlike all the other men. And maybe he’ll just be your saving grace.

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 13.9k

Chapter Tags: Mentions of being trafficked, flashbacks of being abused, non-consensual touching, a lot of angst, soft and protective Joel, emotional reader, trust issues, PTSD, no use y/n, age gap (reader is late 20’s, Joel is late 40’s), pre-outbreak au, switching POVs

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

  Red. That’s all you see, all you know. The dark crimson lipstick that stains your tainted lips, the cardinal curtains that drape across the buyer’s room, your bloodshot eyes that reflect in mirrors that you can barely stand to look into. It’s all just… red.

   You hate your reflection, hate the mascara that runs down your eyes night after night like the blood that covers your once white sheets, hate the way your voice is silenced even when you so desperately want to scream your lungs out. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters because you’re about to be sold to the highest bidder who deems you worthy enough to claim. 

   You scoff, biting your tongue until you taste copper run down the back of your throat, the tears pooling to the surface against your lash line. 

   “Stop fucking crying and suck it up,” Angela spits out sharply. “You’re going to make me a lot of money today, sunshine. So put on a big smile for me and stop smudging your makeup. You want to go back with the girls who didn’t get chosen to go on to the next rounds?”

   “No,” you mewl, your eyes wide and rounded, your heart lodged in your throat. You know what their poor fates will be, and you’ve had enough abuse and horror to last more than a lifetime. 

   “Then get out there and stop fucking around. You’re driving my patience, girl. The men are waiting.” She narrows her beady blue eyes and curls her thin red lips into a scowl, pushing you forward and nearly making you trip over your strappy high heels, your ankles barely able to hold your fatigued legs up any longer. 

   Your heart thunders loudly in your chest, blood rushing through your ears, anxiety threatening to take you down at any minute. Angela would be at your back, digging her spiky heels into your spine, barking at you to move, but what does it matter anymore? You’re already dead. What’s one more scratch to your fragile body that has been violated in ways you’d never speak about aloud. 

   You’re just a vacant body that’s hollow and worn inside. A mere ghost that’s left this earth long ago, imprisoned to this life to bring pleasure to men who only inflict pain and torture on innocent souls. But there’s nothing you can do. Not a damn thing. You’re stuck like glue unless you find a way to just end everything. Then they’d never be able to touch you again because you’d be buried six feet under the dirt. But at least then you’d be at peace.

   You’ll never know peace again. Not in this lifetime. Not ever. 

   As you turn the sharp corner, the vibrant red curtains separate into a stage-like theater room. Draped material clings to the velvety walls, the color reminding you of death and destruction. You can almost see the imprinted blood stains of the girls who got dragged away by the strands of their fragile hair, leaving claw marks in the walls. 

   You can still hear the blood curdling screams from some of them left behind, a plea for anyone who was listening, begging for just one person to help. But no one did. Their desperate calls weren’t enough to even stir up a care in the world from any of the men, including your awful handler, Angela. They were just a number, a dollar sign to every single one of these insufferable men, and the only thing they cared about was power, control, and sex.

   You weren’t any different in this scenario. And tonight, your soul would be auctioned off. And then you’d be enslaved till your master either killed you, or you found a gun and pulled the trigger yourself to just silence it all.

   Your high heels click audibly against the polished stage, your feet dragging as you keep your eyes peeled to the floor like a good submissive. “Keep your head down, don’t ever look them in the eyes. Be the good slut they want you to be and maybe they won’t punish you as much.” That’s what Angela always said for all those unbearable months you lived under her roof, and it was engraved like stone in your mind, imprinted words that might as well be tattooed on your wrist. 

   You were taken at twenty-six, now a twenty-seven-year-old fucked up girl who doesn’t even know what state she’s in. It’s been a year, maybe two. You don’t fucking know anymore. All you know is that you want to die. 

   You learned to be submissive, small-minded, belittled, pliant. And the worst part, she taught you to say thank you to your abusers after they were finished having their filthy ways with you night after night…

   You were nothing but a collared bitch who forgot how to say the word no. You were their prized possession now, and your body wasn’t your own anymore.

   “Ahhh. There she is. There’s my favorite slut of them all.” The word slut cuts you like a sharp knife penetrating deep through your skin, sinking down to stab you right where it hurts worst. “Why don’t you give us a spin, princess? Show these gentlemen what you’ve got to offer. Give them a show.” Garrett’s cackled voice booms through the large room, sending goosebumps down the base of your spine. You never liked him, especially when he cornered you in the bathroom, pushing you against the tile until he forced you down on your knees and told you to suck or he’d wring your neck.

   Your eyes press closed at the traumatic memory, teardrops threatening to spill at any moment. You just do what you're told and keep your quivering lips together, your long nails brushing against your bare thighs. The midnight blue dress barely covers your ass, the diamond earrings and pearl necklace weighing you down like a heavy anchor, tethering you to the ocean floor. Your cleavage spills out from the low-cut v shape of the top, breasts almost on full display because Angela said the men would just love it. You hate it, hate her but there’s not a damn thing you can do about any of it. You’re a slave and nothing more than a fuck toy and a quick money maker for the sex traffickers. 

   You wish you felt more human, but you’re just… not. Most days you can’t even remember your full name, nevertheless your favorite time of year. Being holed up in a horror house for over a year will do that to a girl. Make them forget their entire identity. And that’s exactly what happened to you. 

   Now you’re just… dust. 

   “Alright, boys. Shall we start this off with let’s say, ten thousand dollars?” Garrett’s sharp voice zaps like lightning through your nerves, and your whole body is visibly shaking now. His cold emerald eyes look like a viper about to strike its prey, and his smug smirk makes you want to curl in on yourself, hide yourself so he’ll never be able to torture you again. 

   You hear sounds of squeaking chairs, men cursing under their breath, whistles being thrown around like they’re catcalling you. They are catcalling you. But instead of harmless whistles, they’re poisonous fangs reaching for your skin, trying to seep their venom deep in your veins, claim you as their own. You fucking hate it.

   Taking a deep breath, you focus on the plush of the black carpet around the stage, try to pretend it’s lush green grass instead, like you’re running through the woods, escaping far far away from these bad men.

   “Come on, love. Don’t be shy. Show me those pretty eyes, so I can see just how gorgeous you’ll be down on your knees, pleasuring me with that pretty mouth of yours.” A man vulgarly shouts at you, the other men’s loud laughter echoing around the room, making you want to curl into a ball and die right on the spot so none of these men can lay a finger on you.

   Breathe. Focus. Don’t lose hope. Keep fighting. The words echo through your mind, but you’re so lost that it’s hard to keep going. You’re going to die under one of their hands anyway, so what does it matter? 

   “Did you hear him, princess? Chin up and look at him.” Garrett’s tone is stern and demanding, and you don’t flinch a second because you know what will happen if you do.

   When your eyes snap up, you come face to face with an older man who has cold blue eyes, spiky bleached blonde hair, and a jawline that could cut a man’s body in half. He has an evil glint in his eye, and it’s so revolting that it makes you want to puke. “Ten thousand you say? I’ll take her.” A devilish smirk marks his mouth, and fear strikes through your insides as fast as a lightning bolt. 

   No. Not him. Anyone but him. He looks like he’s murdered people, and you have no doubt that he’s killed women he’s bought before. 

   Fear slices through you, but you can’t run, can’t even move. Your feet are nailed to the wooden floor of the stage, and you know he sees how scared you are in your swirling irises filled with fright.

   “And shall we go up to fifteen thousand? Any takers?” Garrett looks around the room and two hands go up, but you’re too tired to look to see who they are.

   The bets continue, slowly climbing all the way to forty-five thousand dollars. An amount that is insane for a broken body who doesn’t even want to be breathing anymore. 

   Men scream and fight, shouting different prices, trying to win you over, making Garrett slam his fist down and sell you to the highest bidder. You don’t want to listen, don’t want to hear their rambling nonsense anymore. You just want to go to sleep and never wake up again. Maybe then you won’t feel any pain anymore. Maybe then you’ll find peace.

   More chants and vulgar noises come from the men’s mouths, their hungry eyes glued to you, their lips smacking and fingers digging into the velvet of their seats. Some men adjust themselves in their fancy suits, tongues darting out, wetting their salivating lips. And it’s so disgusting that it makes you nearly vomit on the floor, but Angela would have your head for that. So you just stand there helplessly and wait because that’s all you can do. 

   You’re their ragdoll, and they can do whatever the fuck they want with you. You have no say and trying to fight would just make everything that much worse. 

   Minutes go by, ridiculous numbers flying around the room, the air stifling and sticky, your body fizzing with anxiety, a panic attack creeping up against the surface, threatening to take you down in mere seconds.

   Don’t freak out, don’t freak out, don’t freak…

   “Sixty thousand dollars.” Your eyes dart up, panic flashing across your irises. You find a man you hadn’t seen in the very back, and you have to squint to make him out in the shadows of the corner of the room.

   Your mouth nearly drops open at the amount he just said but apparently, these men are dripping with copious amounts of money. 

   You take a few seconds to assess him, your eyes glued to his large form against the velvet recliner he sits in, palms pressed firmly into the sunken arms of the chair. His body is broad, tensed, thick veins spidering down his tanned forearms, a black Rolex watch clasped to his left wrist. He’s clad in a white button-up shirt, black dress pants pressed against sculpted thighs. He’s dressed like all the other filthy rich men, but this one stands out amongst the rest. There’s just something about him that’s different. 

   He drags a heavy hand down his patchy scruff, greying threads shining under the dim light. His tousled sandy hair is slicked back, silver streaks giving away his older age. He looks to be in maybe his late forties, if that. A thick mustache hangs over his plush mouth, but what draws you in the most isn’t anything about his physical appearance but the way he’s looking at you. Soft, gentle brown eyes that have no violence swirling in them like the rest of the men. While the others look at you like a raw piece of meat, he doesn’t follow their lead. In fact, his gaze never hovers, never draws down your body. They just stay locked entirely on your eyes.

   His eyes are soft, dark brown pools with honey flecks glittering in the darkness that surrounds you. They aren’t cold, unfeeling like the rest of the men’s are. They’re… soft. And that alone almost brings you to your knees in relief.

   “Sixty-one thousand,” the spiky blonde hair challenges, piercing his icy blue eyes on you, making you want to hurl at the thought of that one winning you over. 

   “Sixty-two,” the mysterious man in the corner barters. Your eyes snap up to his until you hear Angela’s venomous words spew in your mind. Eyes on the ground unless you’re getting spoken to. Your gaze involuntarily falls to the polished wood, and you hear her click her tongue behind the fancy curtains. You’re nothing but a disappointment to her most days. Never perfect, always pathetic. 

   You bite your lower lip in panic, digging your heel as far into the floor as it’ll go, your nails biting into the palms of your hand, almost to the point of blood being drawn. 

   “Sixty-three!” The blonde pushes out of his chair angrily, his fists balled at his sides, getting frustrated with the man that challenges him. 

   Please, please, please. Don’t let him take me. 

   Praying was something you gave up on long ago but at this moment, you really have nothing left to hold on to. You can only silently beg for the man with brown eyes to win the bid. 

   “Sixty-five,” the brown-eyed man growls, his voice clipped and harsh, letting the blonde know he isn’t going to lose this fight. The blonde glares at him, anger fuming in his icy eyes, a deep snarl embedded in his mouth. You’re almost positive that’s how he’d look night after night hovering over your bed if he were the one to win, but you can’t think about that now. All you can do is wait. 

   “Do I hear sixty-six?” Garrett smiles, his eyes flicking between the two men who look like they’re about to duel in an old western shootout. You already know the brown-eyed man would win. 

   The blonde’s jaw ticks, and he holds back violence in his flexed fingers. After a few unbearable seconds of waiting, he slowly shakes his head and sits back down in defeat. “No. Guess he gets to take home and fuck the whore however he likes.”

   Anger flashes over the broad man’s brown irises, and a murderous stare penetrates his gaze. He clenches a fist tightly, and a part of you thinks he may jump out of his seat and beat him to a bloody pulp, but he doesn’t. And for some reason, your breath is completely knocked from your lungs.

   The deep boom of Garrett’s tone makes you jump from surprise, stirring you from your deep thoughts. “And sold, to the man at the back of the house! Congratulations. You got our rarest gem tonight. Aren’t you so lucky.” 

   The brown-eyed man’s jaw clenches for just a second, but he relaxes it instantly. Walking up to the front of the room, he throws on his pressed black jacket, straightening it as he walks past the deranged men, following Garrett as he leads him to the side where he’ll transfer the money and make it official. You’re his now, and there’s nothing you can do about it. 

   Angela grabs your elbow harshly, pinching skin and drags you off the stage. She should be happy you just got sold, but she’s still acting like you belong to her. “Look at you getting fought over. You just earned me a shiny paycheck. But don’t forget your place, brat. You’re just a body to these men, and you’re here to please them. Sex is what they want, and your new master will surely punish you even more than all the other men at the house did to you.”

   A sick feeling twists up your stomach, threatening to empty your lunch remains from yesterday on the floor, right on top of her shiny stilettos, but you wouldn’t dare. She’d probably kill you herself before your new buyer even got you in the car.

   Suddenly, you realize you won’t have to deal with her backhanded remarks or abusive commands anymore. No more late nights of being held down on the ground and no more non consensual touching from strangers. 

   A feeling like freedom washes over your senses, relieving you of some tension, but you won't be truly free. Not really because you just got sold, and you know nothing about this man. Even if his eyes were kind doesn’t mean that’s who he really is. Men pretend with you all the time.

   When she pushes you up the stairs that lead to the back of the room, the blonde stands and blocks your way, an angry leer in his eyes while he skims his gaze down your exposed body. Something like panic and sickness stir inside you, an unwelcome hand brushing over your bare thigh, his hand sliding higher under your short skirt. Angela just stands back and lets him take advantage, and you have nowhere to run.

   “Well, looks like I won’t be taking you home after all, but I’m sure your new master won’t mind sharing you before you leave, right?” A sly smirk curls against his thin lips, his eyes smoldering with ice and mischief, making you feel extremely small in the moment.

   “I don’t think..”

   “Shut up, whore,” he silences you, wrapping a tight arm around your waist, snaking his hand higher and higher, brushing his fingertips over the thin material of your lacy thong. Anxiety floods your senses, panic taking over. You try to pull away, but he just presses you tighter against his body.

   Where the fuck is he? Where is your master? You’re not supposed to be touched after being bought, at least not by another man. Unless it’s agreed upon by him explicitly. 

   He skims across the outer edge of your lace, his slimy fingers feeling like hot lava boiling you alive. You want to run, hide, scream into his twisted face, but you have no more fight in you. You’re paralyzed by fright and right now,  Angela doesn’t give a single fuck if one of these sick freaks pins you against the floor and takes advantage of you.

   Right when you feel a warm teardrop leak from your eyes and a long finger pull against the thin fabric, a loud smack echoes around the room, and his body is thrown to the ground, blonde hair flitting across your peripheral vision. Your eyes blow wide when you realize what just happened. Your new master just punched the blonde man’s nose and tackled him to the floor, and you can’t stop staring in complete shock.

   “What the fuck man! What was that for?” The blonde tenses up and pinches his broken nose where blood is spewing on the floor in a thick pool, staining the black cuffs of his suit.

   “Mine,” he growls protectively, shoving him once more for good measure. He pulls himself up from the floor and straightens his button-up, ticking his jaw and scowling at the coward lying in pain on the floor. 

   Your jaw goes slack, and your heart thunders impossibly fast in your chest at what just happened. He saved you from getting taken advantage of. Why would he do that? You should thank him, but you’re stunned in silence. 

   He gives you a once over to make sure you’re unharmed and when he’s content, he tips his head toward the open door, signaling for you to follow. “C’mon.” It’s all he says, but you follow nonetheless, desperate to get out of this cesspool. 

   You take one more glance back at the carnage of the room, collecting the memory of the blood red curtains and taking the fancy velvet seats to your grave. The reflective mirrors make you gag, and the wooden stage makes your legs shake at the implication of what it means to be up on that high platform. It makes you sick to your stomach.

   You were just auctioned off and hopefully, you’d never have to step foot into this room ever again. 

   Trailing after him, you stay close. Close enough to inhale the woodsy cologne that drips off his body. You don’t know why, but there’s an odd comfort in the scent. Like fresh pines and a brisk fall day. Something you haven’t got to experience since… you can’t even remember now.

   The guards at the front let you pass, and it’s almost like it’s a trick. Just one more step and they’d be dragging you back by the crown of your head, not even sorry for ripping strands from your skull. You tense up and wait, but nothing happens. They just let you go. And suddenly, tears are pooling in your vision. 

   You wipe away the evidence, afraid your new master will scold you for shedding a tear. Maybe he wouldn’t, but you have so much trauma embedded in you that it’s like it’s an automatic response. 

   Back at the house, Angela would smack you across the cheek if she caught you crying for any reason. She always said tears were a weakness, and she wouldn’t have one of her girls going into a man’s room looking like a train wreck. So even crying brings out the trauma responses. You fucking hate that you can’t show emotion without getting a whiplash of her snide demands.

   You’re broken, and you don’t think you’ll ever be repairable.

   The air is chilly, a full moon hanging high in the night sky, bright stars blinking every couple of seconds behind grey clouds. The trees are mixed with a swirl of colors: yellows, oranges, deep reds that remind you of the shed blood back at the house.

   You shake your head out of the fog and focus on the smell of fresh air and a hint of spice. It has to be the end of September or October. Maybe November? God, you don’t even know what month it is or where the hell you are. This isn’t home. Not anywhere close at all. You know because there’s no deep green mountains or endless forests in sight. Home is nowhere to be found…

   The tall man walks you to a dark black Chevy, unlocking the passenger door and opening it wide for you. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t even offer you a hand. He just stares at you with a slight tick to his jaw, tilting his head to signal you forward. Your body responds in an instant. 

   You climb in, feeling the cool leather on your exposed skin, pulling on the bottom of your dress to cover yourself more, but it barely even moves an inch. It’s no use trying. He’ll probably have your dress ripped off in less than an hour. You’re surprised you even made it this far without him pinning you down to your hands and knees. 

   Shaking the sick images from your mind, you let the invading thoughts float far away as he closes the passenger door. He wouldn’t do that to you. He’s not like those other men. He couldn’t be. He attacked a man for you, but maybe it’s just because he doesn’t like other men touching his property. 

   That’s what you are. Property. That’s all you’ll ever be.

   It doesn’t take him long to appear in the driver’s seat, clicking his seatbelt into place and turning the key in the ignition, letting the rumble of the engine rev to life. You sit back in the passenger seat and try to breathe, letting air pool into your tight lungs. 

   The inside of the truck may be warm, but your body is freezing just thinking of what that blue-eyed demon was going to do to you back there. Panic consumes your insides, making you violently shake in your seat. Your eyes gloss over and then you feel as if you drown in a frozen lake, frostbite making its way across your flushed skin.

   “Whoa, easy there. S’alright now. You’re alright,” he coos, quickly throwing off his jacket and wrapping you in the warmth, draping your arms through the long sleeves and bundling up inside the blanket-like material. 

   Warm. It’s so warm and for the moment, your body relaxes just enough to relieve yourself of the onslaught panic attack. Your erratic breathing shortens, and then you can finally think clearly again, breaking away from the thick fog.

   Your eyes flick over to his, and there’s nothing but pure concern laced in his golden-brown irises. “You alright?” The question confuses you, and you stare blankly his way. There’s nothing hostile or violent in his eyes. They’re just… soft. Like they were back in the auction room. The first time you stared into anything remotely warm since you were taken.

   He lifts an eyebrow in question, and you finally register that he wants you to answer. “Mhm,” is all you can muster out, your words lodged deep in the back of your throat. Men don’t ask you how you’re feeling, so why is he?

   He looks at you for another beat, nodding his head once before you drop your gaze back to your lap like the submissive you should be. Don’t make eye contact. That’s showing control, and you’re not in control. Angela’s taunting words will follow you to the grave, you just know it. 

   He looks like he wants to say something else, but he holds his tongue and lets the truck roll to the long gravel road ahead.

   A sudden realization hits you like a car crash. No more Angela, no more Garrett, no more assaulters crowding your broken body. You’re free. Of them, at least. But your new master? Not so much. 

   The ride is silent apart from the soft rumble of the truck, tires spinning along the quiet road, moonlight shining through the tinted window, reflecting shiny stars in the side mirrors. You haven’t been outside in months, and the sight of a clear night sky makes you want to burst into tears. 

   “What’s your name, sweetheart?” His deep, soothing voice lilts into your ears, and you gulp at the sweet nickname he uses.

   Sweetheart. The men back at the house only called you crude, filthy names. Slut, whore, and bitch were their favorites. But no one ever called you sweetheart. Not ever.

   You take a deep breath in before you speak, afraid your vocal cords will shred apart the moment you tell him what it is. But when he looks over at you all soft again, you break. You tell him your name quietly and avert your gaze back down to your pale thighs. 

   Your name rolls off his tongue like honey, and you can’t help but fight the tug of a smile curling over your lips. He said your name and for once in your life, a little part of you clicked back together. 

   Bravery seeps into your body, and you cautiously peek up and ask something you’ve wondered since you saw his dark brown eyes in the corner of the room. “And your name?”

   His gaze flicks over to you, and for a moment you think his hand might fly out and smack you across the face. You flinch, remembering the sting of every hit your abusers marked you with. Your palm mechanically brushes over your cheek, and you swear you can feel the bright red welts they’d leave on your tainted skin.

   The muscles in his jaw tick as he watches you, assessing your shaky movements. It’s like he can see the pain deep down in your soul, and you don’t understand why he’d care about that. 

   He clears his throat and answers, his eyes attentive to the dark road ahead. “Joel Miller.” 

   You don’t know what to answer to that, so you stay quiet and lean against the window, looking out into the thick fog of darkness. 

   After he sees you trying to decipher your surroundings, his thick Southern drawl fills the quiet. “Do you know what month it is?”

   “No,” you answer solemnly, eyes still focused on the blurring background as the truck drives on.

   “Do you know what state you’re in?”

   “No,” you shake your head, eyes closing for less than two seconds. 

   He sighs, and you see him drag a hand slowly through his scruff. “It’s the middle of October. You’re in Texas. Jus’ a little north of Austin. That’s where we’re headed now. Jus’ about forty minutes away.”

   Texas? Well, that’s a very very long way from home. But you don’t have a home anymore, so what does it matter?

   “Oh.” 

   “Home,” he says hesitantly. “Is it anywhere close to here for you?” 

   You swallow back a lump in your throat and shake your head no, curling in on the warm jacket that envelopes your tired body.

   When you don’t speak again, Joel flicks his eyes slowly to you, his thumb tapping quietly against the leather steering wheel. “Where’s home at, sweetheart?”

   You flinch at the endearing name. It sounds like a knife dragging down a dirty chalkboard if you’re being honest with yourself. You’re nothing but a dirty slut. And that’s exactly what he should be calling you. Not sweetheart, not baby, just… slut.

   When the truck comes to a halt at a dimly lit stop sign, he looks over once more at you, his eyes a dark shade of chocolate. “Washington,” is all you can muster up, thinking you owe him an answer. You can’t even say Seattle without the word getting stuck in your throat. 

   His eyes widen and something like softness resides deep in his warm irises. “You’re an awfully long way from home, aint ya?”

   Quiet. His voice is too quiet, too… sad. And you don’t know what to take that as.

   Tears swim up to the surface, pooling in the corners of your eyes, but you hold them back. Don’t show him you’re weak. “I don't have a home anymore…” 

   His mouth turns down in a tight-lipped frown, and he looks so defeated that you can’t quite understand why he would be. He doesn’t care about you. He never will. He’ll bleed you dry until you have nothing left. That’s what Angela said. And it’s ingrained like a sickness that won’t leave your body. Permanent damage that’ll leave scars like the ones that etch the back of your raised skin. 

   You’re nothing but a vacant body to use. 

   “What about your family? They must be lookin’ for you.”

   Your fingers dig into the silk of your dress, and you almost let them tear right through. “I don’t have a family,” you whisper quietly.

   You feel his careful stare waver over you, but you don’t have the energy to look up. “No? Surely someone’s lookin’ for you. They have to be. A girl like you—”

   “A girl like me what?” you snap, quick to pull back your reins. The last thing you want to do is get backhanded from talking too loudly.

   “Take it easy now,” he presses, his voice gentle and soothing. Almost enough to consume some of your sadness. “All I’m sayin’ is someone has got to be searchin’ for you. Your parents?”

   You bite your bottom lip hard, chewing the glossy skin that’s marked with invisible bruises. “My parents are dead.”

   Silence carves through the inside of the moving vehicle, but you hear the faint whisk of shock leave his mouth. “Oh. I’m… fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t know…”

   “How could you have? You don’t know me,” you shrug, leaning closer against the smooth interior of the door, your head resting against the cool window that’s doused in fog and sorrow.

   “Well, I’m tryin’, sweetheart. I really am. Do you have anyone else? Maybe an uncle or cousin or—”

   “No,” you interrupt. “They’re all gone… I have nothing.”

   His hands clench tight over the steering wheel, his knuckles turning ghost white, and his jaw ticks like something just deeply upset him. Your eyes fall back to your thighs, but you can feel the weight of his body tightening up against the back of the seat. 

   He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t ask you any more questions. There’s just a thick silence that encompasses the cool air. And the only thing that keeps you warm now is the comfortable jacket that envelops you like a tight hug. A hug you desperately need. But you don’t want to be touched. 

   Not now, not ever again… 

   You’re almost fading off to sleep, the minutes ticking down painfully slow, but the rustle of gravel stirs you enough to where your eyes snap open in surprise. You gulp at the view in front of you. A large, lavish house with floor to ceiling windows and expensive wood panelling.         

   Your eyes peel to the thick brush of trees that expand into darkness behind the giant house. And for just a second, you feel like running far far away into the expanse of darkness. Maybe it’d swallow you whole till you were nothing but a ghost beneath the ground.

   The truck finally comes to a halt and then the engine cuts off. Your body hums with electricity. The kind that threatens to strike you dead. Joel unlocks the truck with a click, and he tilts his head toward the house. “C’mon. Follow me.”

   Your body hesitates, but the anxiety of lagging behind and getting punished sends you nearly jumping from your seat and out the door of the truck. Your feet hit gravel and you follow silently behind him, eyes fixed to the grass as your high heels click after him. 

   You feel like a puppet he’s strung behind him, your limbs moving without your permission. But he hasn’t done anything to you, so why are you panicking? And then your shoulders hunch with knowing. It’s the trauma that’s engraved like permanent ink from a tattoo deep inside your skin.

   You’ll never be able to escape it. Not even when you’re dead and gone.

   When you get to the front double doors, he slips a key in and turns, pushing it open with the flick of his wrist. Your eyes blow wide when you enter the massive house. A sparkling chandelier hangs high above the entryway. A marble staircase sits to the right side of what looks to be the living room. Polished wood covers every inch of the flooring. Exposed beams fill the ceiling, and the white painted walls don’t seem to have a speck of dirt on any of the surfaces. 

   It’s only a two story house, but it seems much bigger than that. Well over three thousand square feet. But the earthy textures and wooden trimmings of the house make it seem less like a prison and more like a, dare you say, home. 

   Home. This is your home now. And whether you’re happy about it or not, there’s not much you can do. Your body tells you to run, but there’s a tiny slither of a voice inside you that says you’re safe. 

   Safe. A word that means nothing anymore. You haven’t been safe in over a year, and a part of you thinks you’ll never be again…

   “C’mon. I’ll show you where your room is.”

   You stop in the middle of the entryway, your brow furrowed at his sentence. “My room?” 

   He nods. “Yes, your room.” He reiterates the word your, saying it like it’s spelled out in capital letters. You think he does it for your sake, to let you know again that this is a safe place.

   “You mean I don’t have to sleep in your room…” Your voice betrays you. Fear and panic flooding your eyes at the thought of having to be forced into another man’s bed. You quickly shake the awful memories from your thoughts, afraid to slip into another panic attack.

   His jaw clenches up, but his eyes soften into warm pools of brown when he sees the distress in your wide eyes. “No, darlin’. Not gonna make you do that.”

   “Oh,” is all you can muster out. That’s… new.

   He nods his head to the staircase, and you take that as your cue to follow. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t put his hand on the small of your back, doesn’t make you go first so he can stare up your dress. And you can’t decipher why he bought you in the first place. 

   Maybe he’s waiting till later to snatch you away into his room, maybe drag you to the floor and climb on top of you. The flashbacks make you sick to your stomach, and you’re having a hell of a time keeping it all inside. 

   You distract yourself with the rustic art that hangs on the pristine walls, reflecting off the marble staircase you climb. Pictures of deer, horses, shiny lakes, deep green forests, like the ones in Washington, scatter around the walls in various shapes. And it calms the anxiety that’s rolling like a violent storm through your mind. 

   A long, dimly lit hallway stands at the top of the steps, another sits on the opposite side of the long archway that overlooks a grand living room, leather couches, and a grand piano sitting in the left corner, right next to a picturesque window that overlooks a sea of trees. It’s just as lavish as other men’s homes, the ones where they’d throw parties for all their friends to indulge in the trafficked girls, but this one doesn’t feel like that at all, strangely. 

   His low timbre pulls you out of the fog, and you find him standing by an open door, the first one on the left. “This is where you’ll be stayin’ at.”

   You follow him into the room and gasp at what lies ahead of you. A queen-sized bed with clean white sheets and a light purple comforter sits in the middle of the room, some new clothes folded neatly on the edge of the bed. A walk-in closet sits to the left side of the room, and it looks to be fully stocked with a colorful array of shoes and clothes that still have their tags connected to the material. To the right is a large bathroom that smells like fresh roses and fragrant perfume, but you’re too stunned to walk in and see. The walls are painted in soft muted colors, and the lilac curtains drape loosely over the expansive back window. You almost cry when you see a sea of dark trees in the distance. They remind you of home. 

   You miss Washington, you miss when you had a home, you miss having a family…

   “I bought you some clothes. Hopefully they fit alright. If not then I can get you more, but I’m hopin’ you feel comfortable in them.”

   Your fingertips trace over the soft material of the various shades of t-shirts, hoodies, sweatpants, and shorts, your brain muted and fuzzy because there’s not a gown or short dress in sight anywhere in the room. That’s all you wore back at the house, all you know how to wear. And the sight of comfortable, unrevealing clothes makes your eyes glossy with tears. 

   You feel his weight shift behind you, but yet he still stands more than a foot back, not daring to touch you. You should thank him, get down on your knees and show him just how much you appreciate this, but you can’t. Because the thought of that makes you want to throw yourself over the lavish wood railing of the staircase. Angela would be so disappointed in you.

   When you say nothing, he clears his throat and then you turn to face him. “You must be starvin’. Let me go fix you something. You like chicken?”

   Your jaw drops, and you’re stunned silent from the ask. He’s asking if you like chicken? 

   He gives you a minute to respond, but all you can squeak out is, “What?”

   “Do you like chicken?” His voice comes out softer, more tender. Why isn’t he raising his voice? Why isn’t he smacking you across the cheek for taking too long to answer him? 

   “I—I… yes,” you finally whisper out, your eyes glued to the shine of his polished boots. 

   “Okay then. It’s settled. I’ll get something fixed up real quick. You can come down when you’re ready. Jus’ please, feel free to wear what you want. Find something comfortable, whatever it may be. All these clothes are yours now. I imagine you wanna get out of that dress you’re in.” His eyes flick down to your midnight blue dress for just a second, but he doesn’t lock his eyes on your body. No. There’s a flash of something like hurt in his deep brown eyes. 

   You tug his fancy black jacket further around you, letting its warmth wrap you tight to keep away the flashbacks of grabbing hands and torn shreds of material on the floor while your body was torn apart…

   “Hey.” His mellow voice breaks you away from the nightmarish thoughts. “You okay?” A deep wrinkle furrows against his tanned forehead, and something like concern washes down his soft brown eyes.

   “Mhm,” you hum, suddenly realizing you’re still wearing his jacket. You quickly shed it and try to hand it off to him, afraid he’d rip it from your body if you kept it on for too long.

   He presses a palm out to stop you and just shakes his head, a tousled curl escaping the gel in his slicked back sandy hair. “Keep it.” 

   Your outstretched arm falls to the side and so does the jacket to the floor. He pays no mind to it falling to the ground, not even flinching when it hits the plush carpet. Why didn’t he scold you for dirtying up his things?

   “I’ll be downstairs. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll let you have some space. And please, take your time.” He turns and walks out the door, letting it shut softly. And then you’re all alone, in a strange place that’s now yours. 

   Your eyes don’t lift till he’s gone, a bad habit that’s been ingrained into your very core. You’re not supposed to look them in the eye, not unless they say. But Joel? He doesn’t tell you to keep your eyes on the ground. 

   Slowly casting your eyes away from the cream carpet, you find yourself at the edge of the bed again, your fingertips hovering over a pair of grey sweats and a navy t-shirt. Turning around to make sure the door is still closed, you quickly peel off the midnight blue dress that’s tainted from dirty hands and prying eyes. You let it fall to the floor in a messy heap and throw on the large t-shirt and comfy sweatpants. 

   Looking at your bare arms, you decide it’s not enough, so you find a dark grey jacket deep in the closet and zip it up to the very top, so no exposed skin or scars are left to be seen by his dark eyes. You still feel completely bare, even with a pair of long pants and a long sleeved jacket. But that’s because in the last year, even if you did have actual clothes on, they were just torn away and ripped apart, and you have the scars to prove it.

   Carefully bending down and picking up the wadded up dress, you smooth it out and run your fingers over the sheer material, almost tempted to put it back on because that’s what you should be wearing. Not some oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. You don’t look presentable, not in these clothes. You should always dress to entertain the men, always have your hair perfect and your makeup just right, always have a smile on your face and say thank you for every single thing they do to you…

   Your body starts to shake violently as you look up to find yourself standing in the reflection of the closest mirror, the mini dress held up to your body, fingers curling over the muddled memories of dinner parties that ended with you and other innocent girls faces down on the table with your legs spread.

   Your bottom lip trembles as you look at the twenty-seven-year-old girl staring back in the mirror. You don’t recognize her anymore. Stained blood red lips and long wavy curls, your eyeliner smudging, and the dark creases beneath your eyes telling you just how exhausted and battered your body is. You’re wrecked. Completely and utterly shattered, torn to shreds. And you just don’t know how you’ll ever find yourself again. Because the girl you knew before is long gone. And now? Now you just feel… lost. 

   The tears that pool in your eyes fall like raindrops that pelt the outside window, your body humming with anxious thoughts and a blur of emotions. And the dress burns like fire beneath your palms; every second you hold it brands another forgotten memory into your brain, and then you just crack like shattered glass.

   You tear the dress to shreds, taking out all your anger and resentment on the sheer material, pulling it apart till it’s only unrecognizable scraps on the floor. And you let your tears soak them, stain them just like every single one of those men did to your body. Even Angela. 

   You hate them, you hate yourself, you hate the way they made you feel. Useless and disgusting, a piece of meat they could chew on whenever they pleased. 

   You spend the next half hour crying over what you did, regretting ruining the dress, the one thing you could’ve kept with you, a fragile memory that you should’ve held on to. But that wouldn’t be healing to you. But at this rate, you don’t think you ever will heal.

   You forget about dinner, forget where you even are. Joel had to come get you and lead you down to the kitchen. And yet, he still didn’t touch you. Not even once. And you just don’t understand why he won’t touch you. Not that you want to be touched. You don’t. You just expect it now. 

   When you finally make it to the kitchen, you decide on a black barstool and take your place there at the sleek kitchen island that’s swirled in shiny white quartz. And when he sets a warm plate of chicken Alfredo noodles and a glass of cold water in front of you, you just stare with wide-eyes at the hot meal before you. 

   The savory Alfredo dinner taunts you as it sits right in front of you, screaming at you to just take one bite. Your stomach churns and rumbles with the scent of a put together homemade meal. When was the last time you had one of those? Maybe two years ago. 

   You keep your eyes peeled to the polished wooden floor, your fingers twisted tight against the sweatpants that hang loosely around your thighs. Your body is yelling at you to eat, but you can’t make yourself move, can’t do anything. You were never allowed carbs back at the house, wasn’t even allowed to eat until the men were done. Angela once pulled your hair and pushed your face into the floor when you dared to take a bite before they were finished. And now you can’t even get yourself to chance that again. Even if Joel never would, you feel as if Angela will come charging around the corner just waiting for you to make one wrong move. 

   You’re so very broken…

   “What’s wrong? Do you not like it? I can make you something else.” Joel’s voice is etched in concern, but you only have the strength to shake your head. 

   “No. It’s fine. It’s—it’s great. It’s just…” Your breath is shaky, just like your hands. And you can’t seem to look up from the floor. 

   Don’t ever look them in the eyes. You’re not in control. You have no power. You flinch at Angela’s spiteful words. You wish you could just drown them out, forget everything she ever taught you. 

   “You haven’t even touched your food, sweetheart.” A tear licks at the corner of your eye, but you don’t dare let it fall. 

   “I—uhh. I…” You’re pathetic. You can’t even look him in the eye at the table. Not even when he’s standing across from you, staring at you with those soft brown eyes you know are boring into yours. 

   “Can you look up for me, sweetheart?” The pain in his deep timbre cracks something inside you, and your eyes snap up to meet his. “There ya go. Attagirl.” You wince at the word because it sounds like praise, and you don’t deserve that at all. You deserve to be scolded. 

   “Wanna tell me why you’re not eating?” You choke on your voice when you see those soft brown honey eyes. You’ve never been looked at quite like that. Not with kindness or concern or anything genuine before. And it makes you want to cry.

   You take a deep, steady breath and pray you can muddle some coherent words out because you’re about to spill something very personal that you’re not quite ready to share. “Back at the house… they wouldn’t let us eat until the men were done. We—we’d get punished if we disobeyed.” You flinch at the painful memories but press on. “We weren’t allowed to eat carbs. And some days they’d just starve us to teach us a lesson. I can’t even remember the last time I had a decent meal…”

   Joel’s fingers flex against the sink, his nails digging into the metal, his jaw clenched and something like pain and understanding lit up in his honey-colored eyes. He looks like he actually feels your pain, and you can’t comprehend how he’d possibly know what that pain is like. 

   He nods his head and darts his tongue along his bottom lip in response. “I uhh—Jesus. I’m sorry, sweetheart. That’s fuckin’ awful. I can’t imagine how that must’ve been. But please, eat. You’re allowed to eat anything you want now. You want sweets, sugar, greasy pizza? Then it’s yours. You’re allowed to eat in peace here. There’s no rules in this house. I want you to be able to eat. So please, don’t ever wait for me. You jus’ go on and enjoy.” 

   It takes you a couple of minutes to find enough courage to pick up the silver fork, but you do it. And that right there is a step in the right direction. 

   The first bite slides down your throat slowly and when you swallow, it’s like a slice of heaven to your insides. You quickly take another, devouring the delicious noodles, letting the savory taste melt against your tastebuds, groaning silently at what a real meal should taste like. It’s not cold soup or oatmeal or dry lettuce. It’s actual food. 

   You somehow forget Joel is watching, and it takes you two whole seconds until your cheeks are burning with embarrassment. He’s looking straight at you, watching you enjoy from a safe distance, and you swear you see a small smile curled against his lips. He hasn’t even touched his food. All he seems to care about is that you’re eating. And that makes you feel extremely guilty.

   You take a paper napkin and wipe the Alfredo sauce from your lips, letting the red lipstick smear across the napkin, suddenly fully aware you just ruined your makeup. 

   Flashbacks of getting slapped across the face course through your body, making you sick to your stomach. Don’t smear your makeup, filthy little slut. Go back to your room and make yourself presentable before our guests arrive. Another sharp smack stings your cheek, and you find yourself cradling your cheek like it just now happened to you.

   Panic blindly traces every inch of your body, anxiety creeping in as your heart palpitates at an alarming pace. You ate without Joel, you didn’t wait, you ruined your makeup. Oh God, you’re in so much trouble. Safe. You’re not safe. You need to run, you need to…

   “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Joel’s concerned voice whips through your mind, and that’s enough for you to drop your fork in alarm on the floor, your eyes wild with fright. 

   You’re not safe, you’re not safe, you’re not safe. He’ll hurt you. Run.

  You pull back the barstool and stand, your back tense and fingernails digging into the kitchen island. “W—Why are you being nice to me? Why did you cook for me? Why aren’t you starving me?!”

   His body tenses, just like yours, and his eyes swim with concern. “Sweetheart, it’s okay. It’s all gonna be jus’—”

   “Why aren’t you using me? Use me! Tell me to spread my legs, tell me to get on my knees, tell me I’m worthless!” You scream, letting your voice echo around the clean kitchen, feeling as if your panic attack might take you out this time around. 

   “No.” His voice is careful, quiet, not at all stern.

   “No?” you mewl, feeling the tears prick the back of your eyes.

   “No,” he repeats, softer than before.

   Your hands shake, and you need to find something to hold to soothe your whirring anxiety. So you grab the glass that’s half full of water. “Use me! Tell me I’m nothing! Tell me I don’t matter!”    

   He shakes his head slowly, his eyebrows knit together in rapt attention, eyes crinkling. “You do matter. Don’t for a second think that you’re—”

   “Just fucking use me!” You slam the glass to the floor, letting it shatter into tiny pieces just like your heart looks like. Broken and fractured. You fall to the floor, crying out when a piece slices through your palm, letting the pain serenade your insides, reminding you of all the times you saw red back at the house. 

   The tears splash against your cheeks, falling to the floor like droplets from a waterfall. But you can’t find the strength to let them stop. You’ve held them in for so long; there’s no more room to keep them tucked away inside.  

   Your eyes widen when you realize the mess you made. You broke his belonging, completely shattered it in pieces. He should have your fucking neck for this, and you cower just thinking of the beating he might give you. “Oh my God. The glass. Fuck, the glass. I’m so… s—sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t…” You frantically try to pick the pieces up, but all you do is tear another cut open in the same palm. And now blood stains the dark wood. Fuck. 

   Joel’s at your side in a second, kneeling beside you, trying to calm you down the best he can without alarming you. “Shhh. S’alright. It’s fine. I don’t care about the broken glass.”

   “But I made a mess. I broke your belongings. And I should be punished. I should…” Your voice fades off as the tears blur your vision, completely breaking you just like the scattered shards of glass that surround you. 

   He shakes his head slowly and places his palm flat on the ground, so close but yet so far from brushing against you. “No. Don’t think for one minute you deserve that, sweet girl. Don’t for one fuckin’ minute believe any of that. S’not true. None of it is.”

   “But—but I… No, I—I can fix this. I can clean this up, I can…” Your words come out jumbled and muddled, and the panic still writhes high throughout your body, making you want to crawl out of your scarred skin.

   “Sweetheart, shhh. S’alright. I promise I’m not here to harm you. Jus’ let me clean you up. Your hand. Jus’—let me help you. Please.” His voice is calm, collected, and you have a hard time looking up because you know those deep brown eyes will only make you cry harder.

   You feel his fingertips brush against your wrist, and you jolt back in panic, eyes wide with retaliation. “Don’t—don’t touch me,” you choke, whining as another piece of glass digs into your hand like a knife carving its way deep into your bones. It fucking hurts, but you’ve taken worse. You can manage the pain. 

   He lifts his arms in the air like he’s surrendering, showing you he means no harm. But your body doesn’t know the difference anymore. All you’ll ever know is how to continue to take the pain. 

   “Please. I promise I ain’t gonna hurt you. Let me take care of your hand. Let me help you.” He draws out the last word, the syllables dragging like sweet honey across his tongue. And he sounds genuine like he really does want to help you.

   You have no more fight left in you, no energy to give. So all you do is nod your head and whisper out a defeated, “Okay.”

   “C’mere, sweetheart. Let’s get you up off the floor.” He scoops you up in his arms, cradling your head in the palm of his hand. He doesn’t even care that you’re staining his white button-up red. If he does, he doesn’t say anything about it.

   Your body revolts against his touch, but he’s so warm that you don’t fight it. He smells like firewood and scented pine trees, and that’s enough to keep you calm in his arms. You just nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck and let your tears stain the dark stubble of his patchy beard. 

   “There ya go. Easy now. You’re alright,” he coos gently, lulling you into a calm state.

   You’re freezing cold, even underneath the layers of clothes that wrap like thick vines around your body. But somehow, the warmest thing right now is being in his arms... 

   You’re completely and utterly vulnerable but just for a second, you relax into his strong arms and breathe in the mahogany scent of him. The man that got you out before you completely shattered. For just this moment, you give in to what you really need. Warmth and safety. 

   He feels safe.

   And for the next couple of minutes that it takes for him to get you across the house and up the stairs, you fade into his warmth, blocking out every single panicked and anxious thought. For just those few seconds, you breathe, letting the unruly voices in your mind die out. 

   For just that minute, you’re safe. 

   You come back to yourself the moment he sets you down on a white step stool, warily telling you to hold still, your palm open over the bathtub, blood running down the porcelain material, staining the walls with the crimson of your stupid mistakes. 

   You did this. Your fault, all your fault. You should have never broken the glass, should’ve never lashed out, but you did. And you guess this is how you’ll always be now. A hollow body that just doesn’t know how to live a normal life anymore. 

   You wince as Joel drags the washcloth slowly over your open wound, tears swimming in your eyes the more he tries to assess it, searching for any pieces of glass that may be stuck deep in your hand. And you don’t know why he’s doing this after you had a meltdown because he wouldn’t make you pleasure him. What the fuck is wrong with you? Is this how your brain just operates now? After being stuck in that god awful house, this is what it does to you? 

   You don’t want to be used anymore. You don’t even want to be fucking touched by a man ever again. So why did it hit a nerve after he refused to tell you that you were nothing? 

   “Ouch,” you whine, tensing as he washes the open wound with soap and water, apologizing each time he goes over the sore area. 

   “M’sorry. Jus’ hold on, I’m almost done. Good news is I don’t see any glass in your cut. S’good. Means I can jus’ clean you up and wrap it for tonight. Might be sore for a couple days, but you’ll be fine,” he assures you, working meticulously to fix you up. 

   You flinch each time his calloused fingers brush against your hand, struggling to not push him away. You don’t want to be touched by anyone, especially not by a man. But you can’t shake how warm he felt when he was carrying you to your room. He wasn’t mean, wasn’t rough, wasn’t even hostile. He was just… gentle. Just like he’s being now with each careful graze of his fingertips to your fragile skin. 

   And even though ninety percent of you can’t stand the thought of him being this close to you, you don’t seem to hate him. Not even a little bit. Because whether you want to admit it or not, he saved you. 

   You don’t trust him, you don’t trust anyone. He could turn on you in a second, show you his true colors. But again, he would’ve already done that. Wouldn’t he?

   “How old are you, sweetheart?” he asks, carefully drying your cut with a clean towel.

   “Twenty-seven,” you whisper out, wincing once more from the pressure on your palm.

   “And your birthday? When’s that?”

   You watch his brown eyes flick up to yours, and your gaze drops immediately back to your lap. “January 22nd.”

   He takes a minute before the next question comes, diligently wrapping your hand in a gauze padding. “How long you been gone now? Do you know?”

   You chew on your bottom lip and hold back a tear, trying your best not to fall apart all over again. “A little over a year and a half…” you respond in a muffled tone. “I wouldn’t have even known my birthday passed. But they—they were sure to remind me. Because I was—I was…” you can’t even finish your sentence without a tear slipping down your cheek, holding on for that sliver of sanity you have buried deep inside you.

   His brown eyes gloss over into a deeper shade of brown, and his eyebrows furrow in concern as he stops what he’s doing so he can put his full attention on you. You decide to finish your sentence, needing to get it out of your system. Hoping it’d be a way to forget as soon as the words left your tongue. “They—they had me bent over a table the entire day while a vanilla cake with the numbers twenty-seven taunted me while they ate it in front of me. And then they—-they…” a sob chokes you up, and tears trail like rain down your face, landing on top of Joel’s hand that sits atop his knee.

   “Hey, hey, hey. S’alright, sweetheart. You don’t have to talk ‘bout it if you don’t want to. I’m—fuck. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I jus’ can’t imagine what sick fuck would do that to you or any girl at that. I’m so sorry.” His deep voice is full of pity and heartache, and his chocolate eyes make you want to cry even more.

   You dip your head in anguish and sigh. “Yeah, me either. Maybe I deserved it. Maybe I…”

   He interrupts you, hovering his hand over yours like he wants to comfort you, but you flinch away at the notion. “Shh. No, sweetheart. You never ever deserved any of that. Not in the least bit.”

   You scuff your bare feet against the tile floor, reaching for anything that might keep you from tipping past the breaking point, but you’re way over the edge. You’re all the way at rock bottom. 

   The searing question bubbles up again in your stomach. The one question you’ve been dying to know ever since he called out that number. And you can’t go another minute without knowing. “Why did you do it?”

   “Do what?” he asks, an eyebrow arched in question.

   “Why did you buy me? You could’ve left me with the blonde. You could’ve walked out empty handed.” Your voice is raised, but you keep your composure from sliding again, not wanting another broken glass incident.

   “I wasn’t gonna do that,” he presses, his lips in a tight line, jaw ticking with a dark look in his eyes.

   “You paid thousands of dollars for me. Why would you do that? Why didn’t you just—”

   He stops you right there, a sad look blanketing his face. “‘Cause. My daughter, Sarah. She… she went through the same thing you did. And I couldn’t fuckin’ stand by and watch the same thing happen to you.”

   Your lips part wide, and a gasp leaves your throat. His daughter was taken? “Oh.” That’s all you can say for the moment. You’re stunned in silence.

   Holy shit.

   You try to find one sliver of pretense, a glimmer in his eye that could prove he’s lying. But the way his face falls and his eyes drop to the floor in agony, like he’s in physical pain, you find no lie. He’s telling the truth.

   “Is she still…”

   “Yes,” he nods, eyes in a far off place. “She’s alive.”

   “When did she…”

   He takes a deep breath and flexes his hand over the side of the tub, holding on to something solid while he gets into the thick of what happened to his daughter. “She was taken young. She was only fifteen, taken right under my nose at the mall. She was just walkin’ to the bathroom. It took less than five minutes. And I—fuck. If I would’ve jus’ watched her walk in and stood outside the door. She would’ve never been taken in the first place…”

   He drops his head in defeat, and you feel your eyes widen in shock. You don’t know what rushes over you, but the way his soft brown eyes tear up make yours do the same thing. “Joel?” you choke out, tears stinging against your lash line. “I’m—really sorry that happened. And as much as you might blame yourself, it wasn’t your fault.”

   He looks up with teary eyes and a deep frown, nodding. “Wish I could come to terms with that. But… she made it out. I found her and got her out. And that’s what matters.”

   “How old is she?” you ask quietly, your left hand brushing over your fresh bandage, careful not to tear the material. 

   “She’s twenty now. Livin’ down in Houston, startin’ her sophomore year of college, and workin’ as a part time vet tech at a clinic specializin’ in horses. She absolutely loves it,” he smiles, his eyes turning into a lighter brown the more he talks about how much she’s grown over the years, leaving behind her trauma.

   “That’s incredible. More than incredible. Just—wow,” you breathe out, your eyes casted down to the floor, wishing you could heal like that. But at this rate, you don’t think you’ll ever get over the immense trauma that occurred to your body and mind.

   He licks his bottom lip in thought, his eyes burning into yours. And you see it even out of the corner of your eye. He’s concerned for you. “It took her a long time to adjust back to a normal life. We had a rocky time there for ‘bout a year, but she got the help she needed. She was only gone a couple months, but that was more than enough time to give her PTSD and mentally scar her. But she’s shining now, finally at a place where normal life isn’t as scary as it used to be.”

   Another tear slips free and splashes to the floor, creating a tiny puddle of your shattered heart that’s made of tears. “I’m so happy for her. Sarah sounds amazing.”

   “Mmm, that she is. I’m gonna give you her number. Think it’d be good for you to connect with someone who’s been through something as traumatic as this.”

   Your mouth gapes open, and you tilt your chin up until you come face to face with him. And he looks… kind. He is kind. “But I don’t have a phone anymore…”

   “I’ve already got one ordered and on the way for you.”

   “What?” you ask with wide eyes. He gives you a small smile that curls against his lips. And you nearly sob from the gentle way he’s looking at you. “You didn’t have to do that.”

   “Yes, I did. And I have a therapist on speed dial. Her name’s Tess. She’s the best of the best. If there’s one therapist I trusted with Sarah then it’s her. Trust me, Sarah went through a lot of them, and Tess was the most helpful. And she’s helped so many other girls, too. Not just Sarah.”

   Other girls? Did he help get other girls out? You have so many questions. “Why are you doing all this for me?”

   “‘Cause I wanna help you,” he states simply, his thumb tapping against the side of the tub, eyes focused right on you.

   “But why? I’m… nothing,” you whisper, bottom lip quivering, afraid you’ll break down in tears once again. And you most likely will. You feel it deep in your bones.

   He shakes his head in response. “Sweetheart, no. Don’t say that ‘bout yourself. You’re not nothing. You’re somebody, and you matter. Whether you believe it or not, you matter.” His words are definitive, final, but his voice is as soft as cotton candy.

   “I… matter?” you ask, voice shaky from the kaleidoscope of emotions that pummels through you.

   He nods, eyes alight and glittering under the bright bathroom lights, a soft smile curled on his lips. “Do you know what I saw when you were standin’ in the middle of that room tonight? I saw a young woman that was worth saving. I saw a light deep inside those pretty eyes of yours that was jus’ screamin’ for someone to hear you. I heard you. And I wasn’t gonna jus’ leave you there to be preyed on by those starvin’ wolves. So I got you out.”

   You’re breathless, lips parted in awe. “But—but I…”

   “Look. You may not be fine tomorrow or next week, but someday—someday you will be. And I’ll try my damn near hardest to make sure you are. And if you’ll let me, I’ll see that you’re kept safe. Whether you choose to leave next week or next month or in a year. I promise I’ll do what I can to make sure you feel safe and that you can learn to thrive in life again. Trust me when I say you will get there. Jus’ gotta take it one step at a time. That’s all you can do. One day at a time.”

   Tears pool in your eyes, soaking them up like the promise of his words. I’ll keep you safe. He wants you to stay, to heal, to thrive. He’s trying to help you, and you just don’t know what you did to deserve his help, but you’re eternally grateful. And even though you’re scared, maybe you don’t have to be scared of him.

   After he puts away the gauze and the bathroom supplies he used to clean your hand with, he lets you get settled into bed. But before he walks out, he raps his knuckles on the doorway and clears his throat. “My room is jus’ across the hall if you need anything. I’ll be up, so don’t hesitate if you need something.”

   You nod your head, pulling the fluffy comforter up to your chin, too tired to give him a smile.

   He tilts his head and starts heading out the door, but before he can turn the doorknob all the way, you call out. “Joel?”

   “Hmm?” he hums, turning his head, directing his full attention your way.

   “Thank you,” you whisper, your eyes telling him everything that your words can’t.

   He curls his lips into a half smile and nods. “Don’t mention it, sweetheart.” And when he walks out and closes the door, you hear him say, “Sleep tight.”

   You want to know more about how he found Sarah, what he meant when he said he’s helped other girls before, how he found you in the first place. But you’re tired. You’re so fucking drained. Maybe tomorrow you’ll find the strength to pull yourself together and ask but not tonight. Tonight you just want a full night’s sleep. Something you haven’t had since you were taken. So you close your eyes, focus on the soft patter of rain on the window, put all your anxious thoughts to the side and drift into the dark depths of a sea of blackness. 

   And then you sleep.

   Hot pain shoots through your wrists like a jagged knife splitting you open, painting you scarlet. Dirty fingernails shred your skin, clawing you until you taste blood in the back of your throat. You can’t speak, can only silently scream. A muted cry for help that no one else can hear but you. Chains fasten to your ankles, pulling your legs apart, grimy men surrounding you, suffocating you until you seep into the the blackest pit of despair. 

   Trapped. You’re held captive against your will, your body on full display, eyes wide with fright every time they snake their filthy hands around your throat, hot breath fanning against your core until you scream bloody murder over and over again. 

   But no one comes; no one saves you from this pit of hell. 

   Dead. You feel dead, and they just keep bringing you back from the grave with every touch they steal. 

   You thrash against the sheets, screaming for help, tears staining the brand new comforter, but you’re still trapped in the horrific nightmare with the demons of your past torturing you way beyond the point of pain.

   “No, no, no! Get off!” you cry as you feel a body dip into the side of the bed, drastically trying to escape what’s to come. “Stop, stop!”

   A voice. Deep, intense, wrecked sounds in your fuzzy mind, trying to grasp you out of your nightmare.

   “Wake up. Wake up.” It’s muddled, almost unrecognizable. But it’s insistent, a loud gong that spirals into your racing mind.

   “No, no, let go!” you mewl, twisting violently in the sheets when you feel the mattress dip down further, spiraling your thoughts further.

   “Sweetheart, wake up. Please. You have to wake up!” He shouts, stirring you from your nightmare, but the men reach for you, dragging you back under the thrashing waves, but you extend your arm, fighting the tossing sea, battling the teeth that gnash at you. 

   “Stop, let go!” Your flesh stings as they continue to tear you apart, dragging you down down down until that sweet Southern drawl that sounds like honey resonates throughout your mind, and the fog starts to clear just a little. 

   “It’s me, I’m right here. Open your eyes, please!” Deep. That thick baritone voice crashes through your mind, pulling you away from all the insufferable noises.

   Your eyes snap open, realizing you’re pounding your fists into his broad chest, barely making a dent because he’s that strong. And then your anxiety races, building horrific hallucinations in your mind. And you just keep throwing everything you have at Joel, tears spilling down your cheeks, your t-shirt drenched in a cold sweat. 

   “The men… They—they…” You choke out a sob, continuously throwing your arms against his chest, taking everything you have bottled up inside you and spilling it all over Joel, showing just how bloodied and bruised you are from the traumatic events. 

   The stage, the men, Angela, the blood, the torture, the misery, the deaths, the excruciating pain of it all. It’s too fucking much, and you just want to die. Maybe then you’ll be at peace, away from the weight of everything you’ve kept resting on your shoulders. Like a rock weighing down on your chest, crushing you till you’re nothing but dust. You feel like dust. Faded, dirty, and useless.

   “S’alright, sweetheart. It was jus’ a nightmare. You’re safe,” he soothes, his calming voice bubbling up and taking some of the anxiety off your weighted chest. 

   “But it was real…” you choke out, your vision blurring with the salty water that forms in your eyes. 

   A tear slips free, crashing down to his hand, smothering it in cold, icy liquid. But he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even back away. He just stays sitting next to you, careful not to touch you or reach for you. He’s just… there. And somehow there’s comfort in that. 

   He stares at you like a lost puppy, chocolate eyes melting, tears filling his own concerned eyes. And you keep hitting him, your hands growing tired from the balled up fists punching against his chest. And he just sits there and takes it, like it doesn’t bother him one bit.

   “Let it out. Give me your pain. I can take it, sweetheart. You jus’ take it out on me. As long as you need. You want a punchin’ bag then let me be that for you. Whatever helps, you jus’ go on and let go,” he says softly, brows threaded together, big doe eyes consumed in pain. It’s like he’s as wrecked as you are, and that makes you cry even harder. 

   “Joel…” you break, dropping your tired arms to the bed, curling your fingers into the soft comforter, trying to lose yourself in the soft rain that pelts the back of the window. 

   You’re so tired and drained and ruined. They ruined you, and you hate every single one of them for taking away everything. Your dignity, your pride, your body, your life, your mind. They took everything.

   “I know, sweet girl. I know. Shhh. S’alright. I’m right here. No one’s gonna hurt you anymore. Not while I’m here,” he whispers, his woodsy scent grounding you back to earth, calming you down just enough to focus on how soft his eyes are.

   Soft. Just like velvet. He’s so soft.

   He just sits there patiently, waiting for your cries to die down, waiting to know you’re okay. But you’re not okay; you never will be okay. You’re just a tree in a sea of thousands, but your branches are withered, leaves falling, and maybe you’ll never bloom again. 

   You focus on his soft brown eyes, the light tap of raindrops, your erratic breathing slowing to a normal pace. You’re so tired. Tired of fighting the panic attacks, the flashbacks, the pain.

   You’re just… tired.

   “You gonna be alright, sweetheart? Think you can get back to sleep?” he asks thoughtfully, his voice warm like a fresh cup of coffee, his scent permeating around the room, keeping you from spiraling again. 

   You take a deep breath and nod, pulling the comforter under your chin, trying to control the chill that runs down your spine. “I think so,” you say slowly, your voice still a little shaky.

   He tilts his head and scratches the back of his neck, a tight-lipped smile forming over his lips. “Alright, I’ll let you get back to sleep then. You come knock on my door if you need me.”

   When he pushes off your bed and pads over to the open door, he calls out and says, “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

   Panic consumes your mind just thinking of being alone again with your nightmares, your body trembling underneath the warm sheets. And before you know what you’re thinking, you stop Joel in his tracks. “Joel?”

   And just like before, he turns and arches a brow, questions reeling in his calm brown eyes. “Hmm?”

   “Can you… would you mind staying with me? I just… I really don’t want to be alone.” Your voice is shaky and nerves pull through your body, but for some reason his presence just gives off that impression of safety. 

   You don’t trust him yet, not really. But he’s got the softest aura swirling around him, and you just know he won’t hurt you. He’s already proved that.  

   You’re safe…

   He smiles, running a hand through his thick curls, his bicep flexing under the weight of the white t-shirt, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. You might’ve thought he was handsome under different circumstances, if your brain wasn’t ruined from trauma, but the only thing that seems to capture your attention is his soft brown eyes. The only kind ones that were in that auction room tonight. 

   “‘Course I will, sweetheart. Whatever makes you feel safe,” he says, walking over and sinking down into the champagne colored saucer chair by the open door, eyes locked on you. 

   You mold yourself to the cool mattress, the sheets wrapping loosely around your legs. You stare at him for a couple of minutes, using his woody scent to calm you down. He reminds you of Washington, of your favorite pine trees. He smells like home, when you had one. Tears line your lids, but you close your eyes and get lost in the rain, until your breathing is shallow and slow. And then you’re out like a light.

   He keeps his eyes fixed on you, watching for any signs that you may be in distress. Every whimper and strangle against the sheets makes him jump up, ready to take you from your vicious nightmares, but they don’t come. Not like the one that had you screaming bloody murder, tears staining your pretty eyes. 

   Scared. You’re so very scared, fragile. Just like the glass that ripped you open, staining his white button-up crimson. He hates that that’s how they made you feel. Afraid of men, to be broken again. They took it all from you and he fucking hates them for it. 

   They hurt you, ruined you. It makes him sick to his stomach, makes him want to hunt down every single man who put their filthy hands on your sacred body. He’d chop their hands off so they could never touch you again, take a gun and end their pathetic lives. That’s what he did with Sarah’s kidnappers, when he found out who took his precious daughter. And he’d do it for you too. In fact, he’d search the whole goddamn map to wring the necks of any man who even thought of putting their filthy paws on you.

   He’s not against violence, not when he spends half his time working to take down auctioneers and human traffickers. And the blonde man that tried to violate you tonight would be the first to go. That one he’ll take down himself. 

   He stays up the entire night, never letting his eyes close, afraid you’d start drowning again. But he won’t let you slip beneath the rocky waves; he’ll keep your head above water, pull you out, do his very best to make you feel safe.

   Safe. You’re safe here with him. And even if you don’t trust him yet, you will. He’ll make sure of it. He saw the absolute terror in your eyes on that stage, and he just couldn’t leave you with the venomous snakes in that house. You have a long road ahead of healing, but he’ll be there to help you through it. 

   A beautiful girl like you deserves a second chance at life, and he’ll give it to you. Pretty flowers don’t deserve to wilt. They deserve to thrive. 

   And you will. 

Tagging those who seemed interested 🩷 @joelsgreys @amyispxnk @whxtedreams @clawdee @jellybeanxc

@lotusbxtch @thebeldroramscal @laurrrra @sawymredfox @sanarsi

@christinamadsen @missannwinchester @aurorawritestoescape @evolnoomym @littlevenicebitch69

@milla-frenchy @magpiepills @604to647

[widebrimmedhatsblog]

ONYX STORM ⚡️⚡️⚡️

My thoughts below the cut! Spoilers galore. This is all from my first read through, so we’ll see what changes by the time I finish my second read. I’m still pretty jumbled up about the book (I am physically incapable of opening up goodreads and giving it a rating) and, frankly, I think my notes are going to reflect this! Also, this is thoughts for the WHOLE BOOK, so please don’t open the full post if you’re not done with the WHOLE BOOK.

I’m pasting my notes directly from the doc I took them on while reading , and adding extra post-read commentary when I feel the urge! Also this is your warning that I swear quite a bit in these! For they are candid.

ch1-10:

- i will say i thought the ch 2 epigraph was an inntinnsic clue but now im not so sure bc it’s not that rare it’s just that they kill everyone who has it ??? (commentary from future helena: this is about lilith…right?)

- tell me something, violence. why is it always you? 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

- what IS a soul. how can you take a soul apart piecemeal. why do you think he gave up part of his soul. who told you that. (CFFH: i stand by this. none of this makes any sense to me.)

- hmmmm no red post fingering! curious…very curious (CFFH: i still don’t know about this one dawg)

- the kiss beneath her ear after he helps her get dressed somebody sedate me

- god DOES garrick like imogen because mans does NOT act like it poor im (CFFH: I seriously cannot stop wondering when the hell Rebecca decided to make immrick canon because i LIKE the ship, but on my fw and if re reads it does not read like Garrick likes her, and I would say that holds true till the very end of the damn book)

- VIOLETTTTTTTT I LOVE HER she’s so fucking back (CFFH: violets characterization was my favorite thing about this book. i was really scared about xaden leaving because frankly rebecca writes violet best with him, but she held her own so much better than she has in the other two books. i always love her, but she was incredible here.)

- the bits about vi being a good duchess i Knew that was him saying he wanted to marry her (CFFH: this is an example of what i like to call RY’s “gotcha ass foreshadowing”)

- also i have always characterized fen in my head as loving the movement more than xaden i know what’s up

- i’m soooo excited about him being the duke this is so embarassing im pumping my fists

- did NOT see the samara field trip coming what the fuck

- EVEN HUNDREDS OF MILES AWAY HES STILL TSKING CARE OF EMD EKDNRNRNRN (CFFH: yeah.)

- hey guys what the fuck was that dream? did RY see the cat/violet shippers and get ideas

- WHAT THE FUCK. i saw NONE of this coming

- GARRICKS A WIND WIELDER ???? (CFFH: obviously did not age super well…however garrick was acting so sus here and his dialogue felt so off that i genuinely thought he was the traitor for a fat minute)

11-20

- WHETS RNRJRNRNRNRNRNRJEKEKKRRN

- IS THIS THE MARKED ONES SECOND SIGNET TNEORY (CFFH: can you tell i was a big fan of the marked ones second signet theory. also what’s xadens third signet then? also i feel like if EVERYONE has 2 vi will have 3! i have a theory explaining it below somewhere)

- WLSO DID XADEN FHCKINF KNOW (CFFH: they actually handled this really well i was so nervous they’d have the fight again)

- dude im like short circuiting sick to my stomach HES SOOOOOOO BOYFRIEND ? (CFFH: what on EARTH was this about?)

- well the fuck aware!!!!!!!!!

- i can’t breathe

- i need my inhaler

- LIAM WIELDINF ICE (CFFH: again, can you tell i was a big fan of the marked ones second signet theory? fun fact, i actually wanted to write it into ITHOIA but then i realized a. how much work it would be to concoct that many signets and b. i’d have to give xaden THREE, and decided to pick my battles. however i did brainstorm what signets had xaden energy for giving him a third one and immmmmm immmm having ideasssssss)

- YOURS X

- why do i agree with JFBs venin logic man

- god halden is her traumatic ex relationship goddddd (CFFH: i edited out most of my complaining, but i was super against the halden idea (per my predictions). this might get me cancelled, but it did feel fan service-y? to me? which is fine! fans deserve to be serviced! there are moments of this book in which i am the fan being serviced! but when it become clear RY was going in the halden direction, i was super stressed about how she’d handle it, and im thrilled she made him toxic. THRILLED.)

- SECOND KROVLAN UPRISING

- knowing miss yarros and her gotcha ass foreshadowing ridoc is going on that quest lmdao

- PRFOEOEKEENDJEJEN PROFESSOR RIORSON PROFESSOR RIOROSN (CFFH: not only do i stand by this, but i actually wanted to write teacher roleplay for kinktober and i didn’t bc i didn’t think the fandom would take a liking to it, but CLEARLY rebecca didn’t have those concerns)

- i am going to commit crimes against humanity your relationship did not just END SJEJEJEJENR R (CFFH: i’ve noticed miss yarros has begun to really lean on chapter cliffhangers, and frankly, it pisses me off. i understand she needs to get her bag with kindle unlimited and all, but it makes for a stressful reading experience imo. however, this one got me. this one got me SO bad i had to take a walk to calm down. i have been looking forward to professor riorson for MONTHS and i was convinced it was crashing and burning before my eyes. maybe this is why i shouldn’t read past 1 am. i know rebecca has given interviews and has said she needs there to be constant tension in their relationship or else there’s no story, and while i know what she means, THIS tension felt so manufactured to me. i also think she could pull off a war story with them just like …together. i believe in her. the story needs tension, but it doesn’t need to be between them like this, imho.)

- we live by the codex/i live by you 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫I AM YOURS AND YOU ARE MINE AND THERE’S NO LAW OR RULE IN THIS WORLD OR THE NEXT THAT CAN CHANGE THAT

- you know what we might get shadow sex in this book. we might. (CFFH: we do! and i think we can get more with asim!xaden)

- fun fact about me it took till my THIRD RE READ to see that xaden controls the shadows with his hands.

- there’s been like 3 indirect marriage references if my fucking empire of storms prediction was correct im going to scream (CFFH: so i actually didn’t get to scream because i was too busy MOURNING the lack of a RIORGAIL WEDDING.)

- PAPA SORRENGAIL HAS NAME AND ITS ASHER ?????

- ridocs blow job joke was funny i cackled

- papa sorrengail (im going to deadname him) i do love you man

- SHADOW HANDCUFFS OH MY GOS i had a seizure in my reading hammock

- he is my choice. that got me. that felt good.

- DRAAAAAAAAKE (CFFH: i may say this later, but alli (no tag bc she’s not done reading yet) made drake so sexy to me (and amy! also no tag) and i was kind of disappointed lmfao)

- vi rlly out here playing cousins or dating

21-30

- i loooooove him calling her love all the time

- it’s so crazy to me that he’s relaxed without magic but im glad! since i do think this is his ending over all

- helena bets time: the deal the krovlan rebels didn’t uphold was smth to do with the irids or the feather tails

- “xaden riorson is a lot of things, but happy usually isn’t one of them” hey man what the fuck

- this feels like a fever dream this is the dragon show christmas episode that isn’t relevant to the plot what do you mean they’re bonding over horses

- hey guys is this…capitalism?

- i can’t get over the isle kingdoms being kerch (CFFH: if you haven’t read six of crows this won’t make any sense, but if you have….)

- ARETIA IS THE SECOND MOST BEAUTIFUL THING I MVE EVER SEEN AND MY HOME IS THE FIRST (CFFH: he was ON ONE in this)

- maybe im toxic but he’s being so nice im so anxious about something going wrong 💀 like he stays in the isles or something jesus

- “even if we did, we can’t be in two places at once” + xaden acting weird ….. (CFFH: i want to say third signet but i don’t know)

- what the FUCK is going on with him like it’s really hot but it’s freaking me out

- IM GIVING DIPLOMACY A TRY NOT SURE ITS FOR ME THOUGH (CFFH: dare i say lilith parallel)

- HE WOULD HAVE IF HE’D MET HIM. knocked me on my ass.

- i have an idea i just dont like being wrong baby violet i need to give you a forehead kiss

- why is violets dad the grandpa from the inheritance games

- im going to bed fr fr now but my last minute prediction is that he marries vi to make her an aristocrat (this is wishful thinking) (also we don’t HAVE to rescue halden) (like it’s fine if we don’t)

- MY CONSORTTTTTTTT

- WHEN WOULD BE. can he propose for real. please. (CFFH: this is hurting my feelings)

- bro his LINES IN THIS ???? who do you swear fealty to/VIOLET

- he’s acting less sus…i did NOT like that epigraph abt “returning to his true nature” (CFFH: maybe im on something but idk if this was meant to reflecrt him draining the alloy or whatever it was orrrr if it was abt vi channeling somehow!)

- im almost worried he’s trying to marry her before he kills himself or something but he keeps telling her how selfish he is so maybe not (CFFH: close!)

- her EDS is also a lot better done this time around (CFFH: from a layman’s point of view, obviously, but her injuries were much more graphic, and her other symptoms were actually on page. i really appreciated this)

- oh my godddd sloane and dain.

- i feel like the bond fuckery is vi’s second signet ???? i ALSO feel like it’s sexy

- DAXTON

- PAPA SORRENGAIL HAS A MAIDEN NAME

- also bodhi TOTALLY has a second signet that little LIAR i wonder if he’s an inntinnsic too or smth.

- god imagine bodhi has resurrection

- im trying to be normal but i feel like its insane we’re just now learning where violets family is from idk!!!

- why is dain sweet in this idk also this happened earlier but vi’s dad teaching him languages FOR violet makes me want to cry

- im so fucking proud of violet holy crap

- is violet ??? unnbrian????

31-40

- FOREHEAD TAT LIKE THEOPHANIE!!!!

- violet absolutely can wield there im calling it rn shawty is MAGICAL (CFFH: i guess maybe it’s her touched by dunne ??? thing ??? and she’s somehow ??? half god ????)

- god xaden and dain love her so much

- why does rebecca never let me see xaden do her wraps for her i want to seeeeee

- they’re all in couple pairs so obviously dain and garrick are fucking next (CFFH: this was a joke but tbh…i could be convinced idk)

- god so timing wise DID papa sorrengail meet xaden’s mom !/!:!3&3’ejd (CFFH: i don’t think so ??? but maybe ???)

- not sure my thoughts on the name talia (CFFH: this is bc i picture my bestie Thalia Grace)

- the mommy issues are churning my stomach

- i loooooove aaric holy

- dude i totally thought ridoc was dead

- babe! this isn’t you!

- oh my god ?????? i was NOT expecting violet to give them the old kazzledazzle (CFFH: this is another six of crows reference in which Kaz uses someone’s child as leverage by implying that he’ll kill them, basically, except Kaz is on page morally gray. in THIS book violet is, but i don’t think she had been before now)

- this is genuinely honest to god NOT how i thought their relationship would go and it’s freaking me out

41-50

- you’re my soul JESUS what is he ON

- god poor andarna

- I KNEW HE WAS AN ARIES AND NOT A PICSES I KNEWWWW ITTTT

- she wrote him a letter 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

- i will say i’ve been wondering if the venin effects xaden experiences are more of a ptsd metaphor than anything

- is cuir trans bc i totes thought she was a woman

- ….it would be a shame to kill my last living relative….

- god the adaptations to the running landing mean so much to me im so proud of her

- violet baby i love you to pieces

- you do some of your best work on that throne 😭😭😭😭 (CFFH: the amount of callbacks in this book was very intriguing to me)

- WERE HOME VI ACT LIKE IT

- i was actually rlly against xaden telling anyone he was venin but it’s all gone surprisingly well

- if lindell and lewellen are xaden and liam’s gay foster dads….dont call don’t text

- shadow handcuffs………………..

- im a fan!

- god i did NOT expect that to be the route they took? with the sex ? (CFFH: i thought they were gonna handcuff XADEN. )

- she is absolutely having xaddys dreams but idk what the FUCK the cat one was

- IS XADENS THIRD SIGNET PROPHETIC DREAMS. (CFFH: im leaning towards venin mindfuckery but who knows)

51-end

- i am actually really enjoying tairn and adarna this read although id like a dragon punnet square

- violet is so venin. xaden IS power she says while she says SHE IS power mmmmm rebecca i know your secrets (CFFH: see yall after book 4 idk)

- hi who the fuck was the high priestess and why does it matter im so confused i can see the puzzle pieces and i am flipping the table

- also crack pot theory entered my head. if xaddy gets 3 signets then vi has to get 3 signets. tairn never says naolin he always says “the one who came before” what if…hear me out…somehow it was papa sorrengail???? and not naolin ??? at least not naolin the whole time so then she’s getting a third signet from tairn

- why the fuck did vi not listen to aaric in the first place mans clearly knows what he’s talking about (CFFH: #drama)

- okay is violet a demigod. is that what’s going on

- IS HER HAIR NOT ACTUALLY SILVER (CFFH: i feel like it has to be ????)

- okay wait im thinking about the dedication thing they said earlier -> lilith is sick -> they think fetus vi is going to die -> they ??? dedicate ??? her ??? to dunne ??? (CFFH: i still don’t know actually except she’s two and not a fetus? and it was just papa sorrengail. also i think they rode tairn there LMAO but maybe im insane)

- i cant get over garrick being a distance wielder i need to check on the immrick girlies (CFFH: immrick girlies i hope you’re well!!)

- god how are the irids involved in rsc ???

- i exist for tairn, but i live for xaden okay girl okayyyy

- god does she get to keep being an inntinnsic now ?????

- THRILLED about her sleeping in xadens clothes

- were past the break up stage he’s sooooo real i love him

- core. memory. (CFFH: this is the biggest sin rebecca’s committed anachronism wise my god)

- god DID they get secret married ????

- god when they said bring your brother and i thought she meant liam was being resurrected i actually started to enter cardiac arrest (CFFH: am i the only one 😔)

- is bodhi actually his secret brother and garrick knows and we don’t because what the fuck (CFFH: i guess it could just be vibes?)

- my heart is not in my chest cavity after the liam business

- COLONEL DAXTONS GUIDE TO EXCELLING IN THE SCRIBE QUADRANT!!!!!

- i knew that was how it was going to go purely from alli’s take the second they said they had mira i was like reciting the sitq ending (CFFH: obviously i was slightly wrong but still! this is controversial but the fact that she let everyone were close to (mira/ridoc) live and only killed off tertiary characters kind of undercut the experience for me idk!)

- oh my god dain and sloane 🥹

- come back to me/only ever you

- DUKE OF ANGST

- is garrick’s distance wielding how they dealt with the fuck ass trips to aretia that didn’t work with the timeline bc that’s brilliant actually god damnit

- the bullshit about being everywhere at once means something i can feel it

- RHIANNON?????

- cannot believe that line is feirge

- hi so fun fact i don’t think jm meant to read for this many hours straight i feel like im locked in a trance

- THE ONLY PERSON I TRULY LOVE ???? ABOUT QUINN??? IMOGEN ???

- what on earth is imogen’s second signet bc i don’t think that’s how fire wielding works ????

- i cannot believe the marked ones all have second signets what the ever loving fuck

- i feel like quinn’s death was just not that impactful however imogen saying her mom and sister will know who she is made me tear up jesus

This is where I stopped taking notes!! I’m SO confused about the ending. To be quite honest, I think I’ll reblog this with my thoughts on the ending after I’ve re read it, because I’m LOST. What did Xaden show Sgaeyl ???? Who turned venin with him, because I thought Bodhi but maybe Garrick but maybe both??? how DARE rebecca now show me the riorgail wedding ?/??2?3?3$33&:! WHO does he have a DEAL with???

misc thought that didn’t make it up there:

- i LOVE how she handled Sawyer’s amputation and rehab.

[ateliersss]

Blooming Family Part 3 - He Shan‘t Lose

Pairing: Yautja x F!Reader Summary: Mere two months ago, you returned home after the incident on Earth. Now you were back, ready to indulge yourself and go on the weekly "date night" with your mate. If only your unborn pup had better timing… Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 6,716 Part 1: here Part 2: here Masterlist

⇨ Oh, I missed my Mi‘ytiar.

⇨ I can't believe I finally got this done and I'm able to present this to you. Also, my birthday, guys! God, I'm 20 and I already feel old. Please spoil me with comments, re-blogs and likes.

⇨ Want to join the tag list?

“Be'jaa, go! Go! Good boy.” You laughed as you watched your four-legged companion chase after the trail he had scented.

Hell Hounds, they were called, and probably the closest thing to a pet you could get on Yautja Prime. You learned quickly, after your first encounter with them, that they were similar to the hounds on Earth, and like hounds on Earth, they had one purpose — hunting prey.

Unlike a curious Beagle, a devoted Pointer, or a stubborn Basset Hound, Hell Hounds were more similar to Yautjas than dogs, both in looks and characteristics. But you still could recognize some traits that reminded you of your childhood dog.

You didn’t hunt with Hell Hounds often — it was more special and intimate when it was just you and Mi‘ytiar — but your mate had insisted that at least one of them should accompany you. As experience showed, the two of you had to split up at times; sometimes he also kept in the shadows, high on top of a tree, to watch you hunt on your own. It was simply a safety measure.

It wasn’t like you couldn’t handle the prey on your own. The creatures you hunted were either as small as a cat or as big as a horse. They were insignificant opponents, laughable for a Yautja and not nearly on their hunting standard, but Mi‘ytiar felt different. He didn‘t care how tiny or weak the prey was compared to him.

It wasn't about him, after all.

Those hunts were solely for you, so you could be a part of his culture without him having to worry about endangering your life. 

He had been ecstatic when you voiced your wish years ago for him to teach you how to hunt, how to track and kill as it was custom on his home planet. And even now, after you had exceeded his expectations, he still was immensely proud of you every time you succeeded.

No, Be'jaa wasn’t only there for tracking or for flushing out his targets but also for guarding. You were in the final stages of your pregnancy, and your strength, your speed, and your stamina had decreased, leaving you more vulnerable should prey ambush you. 

Speaking of him, he had been gone for quite some time.

“Be'jaa?” You called, whistled, and waited for a moment for him to return to you.

When you neither could hear him bark, or see him running towards you, you tried calling him again, “Be'jaa?”

And again.

“Be–”

The other half of his name turned into a strained whimper as a stabbing pain pierced through your body, coming from your stomach. You stifled a scream, but when something wet suddenly ran down your legs, a shaky breath escaped your lips.

You knew what this meant.

Your water just broke.

“Oh no. Not now, my sweetling.”

Clutching your stomach, breathing in and out, you slowly approached a tree and practically slumped against it. One of your hands gripped the meaty texture of the tree trunk for support while the other snaked down and between your thighs. When you pulled your hand back, it was coated with the clear substance of the amniotic fluid.

And blood. There was also blood on your fingers, but it was nothing too alarming. When you had been pregnant with Akail, there had been blood too, but it was still an unsettling sight to you.

“Ahhh!” You cried out as another wave of agonizing pain washed through you, your head thrown back.

As much as you had enjoyed the mostly perfect pregnancy, you had completely forgotten about birthing the pup at the end. Maybe you had just pushed the whole thing aside since the mere memory of Akail‘s birth was still able to instill that deep-rooted dread within your body.

You went into labor when both moons were at their zenith.

Mi’ytiar, who had slept peacefully next to you, was hovering over you the second you tried to wake him up. 

It took one panicked look from you and he knew what was going on. 

He got up from his lying position on your nest and knelt beside you.

You had already pushed the furs you used as a blanket to the side and he saw your legs shining with moisture in the moonlight.

“My water broke.” You faintly answered his silent question. “Our little one is coming.”

Mi’ytiar was on high alert as he knew what that meant. 

He tried to lift you into his arms, his mind fully set on bringing you to Cahrein, the healer, but unfortunately, a contraction hit you right at that moment. The pain, plus the one you felt as Mi’ytiar lifted you up, ripped a heart-wrenching scream from your throat. 

It hurt so very much that you punched him out of instinct, an instinct telling you to do anything to stop the pain, hitting him right in the face.

You looked up at him with wide eyes. “Oh God, Mi‘ytiar. I’m so sorry.”

His heart clenched at that. 

You shouldn’t apologize. He’d barely felt the impact anyways, your human strength too weak to actually hurt him, but he didn’t deserve to not feel anything. 

He should have felt pain, should have been knocked from his feet.

He had hurt you, had caused you more pain than you were already feeling.

You noticed the guilty expression on your mate’s face and grabbed his hand. “It’s okay, tahní. It‘s o–”

You cut yourself off as you pressed your lips together while another contraction hit you.

“–kay. It’s okay.” You panted, “Just get Cahrein.”

Mi’ytiar shook his head determinedly as he placed his free hand on yours, which clasped his other hand in a death grip. 

“Cannot leave you.” He growled.

Another contraction made you cry out, “Mi’ytiar, please!”

It took a lot of persuasion for him to finally leave your side to get the healer.

You understood that he didn‘t want to leave you on your own, out of fear something bad would happen to you if he let you out of his sight only for a second, but you needed Cahrein to deliver your son safely.

The healer had gotten to work as soon as his eyes met your tiny, withering body. Putting aside the various instruments he had taken with him — you recognized them from one of your visits where he had shown you which ones he used for births — he helped you to remove the panties that you wore with the little piece of clothing you called nightie, which you had already pulled up, over your bulging stomach, and out of the way.

Usually, you and your mate slept naked with nothing shielding you from each other’s skin, but since you got closer and closer to your due day, you wanted to be prepared. You wanted to keep at least a little of your dignity, not wanting to lie completely bare in front of Cahrein. 

Even though you knew he wouldn‘t care, taking his job far too seriously for that, your body in all its naked glory was meant for Mi’ytiar‘s eyes and Mi’ytiar‘s eyes only.

With your mate on one side and the healer on the other, you spent hours in indescribable agony.

Mentally, you were so far gone, blacking out for a second here and there. You barely caught how Mi’ytiar was insistently talking to you or how Cahrein alternately injected you with a transparent and a bright green fluid.

It felt like a miracle when the unbearable pain decreased bit by bit but not fully disappeared. Your fuzzy mind and your blurry view started to clear. 

With the pain now more bearable, you could finally focus on the natural instinct that told you to push.

What you didn’t know was that the following screams and cries woke up the clan in alarm, gathering almost everyone in front of your home, eagerly awaiting the new addition. 

This occasion was special, after all. Their fierce and mighty leader was expecting his first pup, something no one had expected to happen. Ever.

The tense uncertainty inside and outside of your home dissipated as soon as the whiny squeals of your newborn pup finally filled the air.

“Such a bad timing, my sweetling.” You mewled.

Tears were gathering in your eyes and you quickly blinked them away. You didn’t know if it was because of the pain of the contractions, which were now four minutes apart, or out of fear of being all alone in a hostile environment.

With your tongue between your teeth, you waited until the pain subsided, fully intending to call for your mate, but when you did, his name only escaped your lips in a short-winded whisper.

It was like you couldn’t breathe.

Biting back a sob, you formed your hand into a fist and hit your chest repeatedly, trying to get yourself to breathe regularly again. And when you thought you had enough air in your lungs, you bellowed, “Mi’ytiar!”

Your breath hitched and tears finally streamed down your cheeks. You bend your upper body forward, towards the tree, and pressed the palms of your hands against the tree trunk. With your head facing the ground, tears left your eyes and rolled down the bridge of your nose before dripping down the tip to the forest floor.

You were crying and panting, your body clenching every time another contraction hit you.

“Mi’ytiar, please, please… I need you… please, please.” You begged, your voice barely audible.

Contentment.

That’s all you could feel as you adjusted your lying position on the soft fur and the woolen and cotton fabrics of your nest. It was living up to its name as it reminded you of an actual nest, a bird’s nest; just as round but with more comfortable materials. Mi’ytiar had been very picky, something that amused you to no end.

That and the fireplace embedded into the floor, enclosing the round platform the nest was on, kept you warm and cozy.

You and the pup that was sleeping on your chest.

Little Akail let out little purrs while he enjoyed the warmth of his mother’s body, which kept him tranquil and happy.

Only ten hours old and he already had such a significant place in this clan and his parent’s hearts.

You hummed quietly to your pup, only looking up from the endearing sight when Mi’ytiar entered your home and came to a halt in front of your nest, taking in the very welcome view of his (tantalizing naked) mate and his newborn son.

“Don’t get any ideas.” You warned him playfully when you noticed his heated gaze racking over your body.

“Back on Earth, some parents hold their babies like this. The skin and warmth forges a strong bond between them and the baby can get used to its parents’ touch.” You explained, your fingers slowly caressing Akail‘s back.

Mi’ytiar only clicked his mandibles in acknowledgment before he started to take off his armor and his traditional clothing as clan leader. 

You had to bite your lower lip, reminding yourself of your own scolding words only seconds ago, but you simply couldn’t help yourself. Your mate was a fine specimen, a strong and gorgeous Yautja. You were one hell of a lucky woman.

You watched him get on the nest, now only dressed in his loin cloth, and he moved on his knees towards you. 

You wrapped an arm around Akail — still curled up into a ball with his head tucked under your chin and his feet resting on your belly — and got up into a sitting position.

Mi’ytiar grabbed you by your thigh and hip, lifted you up, and pulled you to him so you were sitting on his thighs while your legs were wrapped around the width of his hips.

He looped his arms around you, drawing you into an embrace, so little Akail was now nestled between both of his parents’ warm bodies.

The smile that had grown on your lips since the moment Mi’ytiar had entered your home was now so bright and wide your cheeks started to hurt. 

But you didn’t really care. You couldn‘t hide the sheer happiness you were feeling right now at this moment.

You felt movement against your throat and above the valley of your breasts, and when you looked down as best as you could manage, you saw Akail nuzzle his face into your skin while his tiny hand was now lying on your chest where your heart was beating.

You wanted to cry happy tears.

You had never expected to become a mother, never planned on it, never even remotely wanted it if you were being honest, but having your baby now in your arms made every antipathy disappear. 

You placed a soft kiss on Akail‘s head, using as little pressure as possible so he wouldn’t wake up.

“He’s perfect.” You whispered and looked up at Mi’ytiar who was already watching you intently. “Are you happy?”

He cocked his head to the side, his chest vibrating when he confirmed, “Happy.”

He felt Akail‘s small body against his own, felt his tiny body press against his every time he was breathing.

Breathing.

A beating heart.

Alive.

He loosened the embrace of one of his arms around your body to reach between the two of you and for his son, his fingers tracing from Akail‘s forehead to the back of his head — there, he had the same scale pattern as his father, only with reversed colors — and from his temple over the hints of dreads on each side of his little head with his thumb.

Akail was indeed perfect, just like his mother, and he loved him with all his heart already, but the price he almost had to pay for having him here…

“I thought I would lose you today.” He admitted, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

You lifted your head from where it had been resting on his chest to look up at him with a small smile.

“For a second, I thought I would never see you again. I thought I would never meet our son." You nodded, thinking about the sharp pain and the feeling of life leaving your body as your pup fought his way out of you. “But Cahrein had prepared me as well as he was able to. He helped me through it. Who knows, hadn’t he injected me with your blood…”

You trailed off when Akail began to stir. You quickly started to rock him up and down, luring him back to sleep.

“He’s a very gifted male. I’ve trusted him with my life since the first time we visited him together after my arrival here so many moons ago.”

You adjusted your arm and its hold on Akail, the other reached up and cupped Mi’ytiar’s cheek. You let your fingertips glide over the scaly texture of his skin and dragged them over his jaw to his chin, down his throat to the middle of his chest.

“He also told me that I would be able to give you another pup in a foreseeable future…”

Mi’ytiar frowned, asking skeptically, “After what you gone through today?”

You shrugged and leaned your head forward, your cheek pressed against his pec. “I’m not talking about now or tomorrow, my love, but someday. In a few years, maybe.”

Mi’ytiar bristled, a loud rumble shaking his torso. “No.”

“No?”

“No.” He shook his head, a very human gesture in your eyes. “You almost died.”

You smiled into his skin. Protective through and through, even when it came to his own offspring.

You were incredibly lucky to be chosen by a Yautja like him. 

It was rare for them to be interested in a human. It was rarer for them to treat that human-like an equal instead of a slave or one of many lovers. It was the rarest for a human to be injected with Yautja blood to largely adapt to their DNA and enable life on their planet.

And Mi’ytiar told you himself — you were the only human ever being Life-Mated to a Yautja who carried his offspring and had a similar leading role as him as the mate of a leader, all in one.

You were the rarest of the rarest, a uniqueness, something completely new.

But humans had birthed Yautja-Human-hybrids long before you, most of them more than one or two.

“The next time will be different, Mi’ytiar. My body will be stronger and mentally I will be more prepared.” You told him and peppered his chest with feather-light kisses before you looked up at him again, a loving smile on your lips. “You shan’t lose me.”

You whimpered in relief when you finally heard the familiar growling bark of a Hell Hound. 

“Be'jaa!” You called, “I’m… here!”

You felt something move under you and fill the free space between your bend-over position against the tree. You opened your eyes, which you had closed to calm yourself and your breath, and looked down to see the Hound’s face already fixed on yours.

“N‘yaka-de. Get him.” You panted and watched as Be'jaa turned around to run.

When he suddenly stopped to walk hesitantly back to you, not liking the fact he was about to leave you behind who was obviously in distress, you stomped with your foot and yelled, “Be'jaa, fucking now!”

He darted off and you felt a tinge of guilt for lashing out. After all, he was loyal and a surprisingly good cuddle partner.

“Argh!” You cried out when another stabbing sensation almost made your legs give out.

Once again, it felt like you were being torn apart, but at least you didn‘t feel like you were closer to death than life, like at Akail‘s birth over 30 years ago. You were kind of proud of yourself, actually, considering you were still able to stand. 

Yeah, standing against a tree for support instead of lying in your warm and soft nest where you had actually planned to deliver your second pup. You didn‘t want to give birth in an unsafe environment, with no Mi’ytiar and no Cahrein. 

But who would have expected that your pup was ready to be welcomed into the world on a hunt?

You did. 

You had felt premature labor pains for two days now, but you hadn’t paid them any mind as Akail was born only six days after those pains had started. 

But even those pains had felt different in those two days, so why hadn‘t you just listened to your body when it undoubtedly told you “No!” while you answered Mi’ytiar‘s question “Hunt?” with an enthusiastic “Yes!” ?

You knew the answer to that, too. 

While women on Earth had to stop certain activities at one point in their pregnancy and were limited in their doings, Yautja females could still follow their everyday lives throughout their whole pregnancy. Meaning, they could still jump from one obstacle to another, chase their prey, and kill it. 

Thinking that you were able to do that too had been utterly stupid and arrogant, but you just didn’t want to seem weak. Yes, the clan had accepted you and saw you as one of them, as the mate of their leader, but you couldn’t stop the suffocating need to prove yourself again and again.

It was unnecessary. Mi’ytiar had told you that, Cahrein had told you that, the Females you liked to spend your time with and considered friends told you that and, hell, even a few Males who were close to your mate told you that.

But here you were, crying and groaning when another contraction cursed through your body. You regretted leaving your cozy home, regretted not being pampered by your loving mate in your nest, and regretted leaving your son behind, who had been by your side all the time, hovered over you in case he had to step in should you need anything in your state, followed you around like a lost puppy if you weren’t napping in your nest.

It reminded you of the time when he had been much younger and much smaller. He had been practically attached to your hip and everywhere you went, he was there. He had been such an adorable and shy little boy. Who were you kidding? He still was, but you missed those times anyway. He had grown up too fast.

You were nervous.

With your arms wrapped tightly around your body, you watched the hustle and bustle in the distance. They were preparing for the departure of the five Young Bloods who would soon leave for a faraway world to hunt and complete their initiation into Adulthood.

Among them was your son, your Akail, who would leave you for who knows how long to presumably search for the largest and most dangerous beast and kill it to prove himself.

Just like his father, you thought.

In the first year of your relationship, Mi'ytiar had told you everything imaginable about himself, and one evening about his own initiation ritual. He had told you how reckless and sure of himself he had been as a Young Blood, how he threw himself into danger to impress his clan.

Although that had secured his position as leader, he’d summoned his son the day before to admonish him to proceed with caution, to be logical and strategic, and to not let arrogance control him.

Lost in worried thoughts, you didn't notice as Mi'ytiar approached you, dropped to one knee, and pulled you to his torso with his strong arms. He nuzzled his face into your hair, his mandibles running through it.

He loved your hair. It was just as soft as the rest of you.

“What on your mind, yawne?” He asked.

“I’m scared.” You breathed.

“On your home planet, oomans worry too when child leaves?”

You put your hand on one of his arms that was wrapped around you. “They do, but not like this. On Earth, human children leave the safety of their homes every day to go to school, to learn, and then they will return. In a few hours, Akail will leave the safety of his home to finish school, so to say, but will he return?” You told him absentmindedly, your attention still fixed on the ship. “Human parents don't have to fear that particular day when their children go on a journey to possibly get killed just because of a custom.”

You felt his arms tighten around you. “Do not be scared.” He said.

“I can’t help it. I’m his mother.”

Mi'ytiar let out a chuckle that sounded more like a growl than an actual laugh.

“And I his father.” He said and turned you around, not loosening the close embrace. “I trained him well. Made him strong and made him smart. Doubting my skills, yawne?”

Although he had already lowered himself, reducing his height to be closer to you, you still had to raise your head to look at him.

God, you loved his eyes. Even though there were rare variations at times among their kind — sometimes a lighter shade, sometimes a darker shade, sometimes more orange than yellow — the eyes of all Yautja had the same color.

But to you, Mi'ytiar’s eyes were different, even though one couldn’t possibly spot a difference when he was standing next to other Yautja. To you, they were brighter, more intense, more expressive. Or maybe it was just the way he looked at you, with so much gentle affection and love you wouldn't credit a beast of his stature with.

“Of course, I’m not. I could never.”

You suddenly could feel large arms engulfing your body from behind, pulling you into an upright-standing position, and you just let yourself instinctively fall into their embrace.

You knew those limbs, knew their warmth and their strength.

“Mi’ytiar, the pup… the pup is coming.” You panted and dug your fingernails into his forearm.

You felt him move behind you. He lifted you up, his arms supporting your back and the back of your knees as he held you to his torso. He briefly registered how you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck before he took off.

He ran like he never did. At the same time, he was careful not to let your body jolt around too much as he jumped over fallen tree trunks and climbed rocks to reach the Scout Ship while you clung to him.

Every time a contraction hit, he could feel your body tense in his arms and your mouth press against his chest as you muffled another scream.

Oh, how he wished he could take away the pain, but at least it wasn’t as horrible as it was at Akail’s birth.

Mi’ytiar remembered your glistening tears and your little withering body, how you had squeezed his hand so hard that even he had felt pain, and how you had begged both him and Cahrein to stop it. Especially the fear of death in your eyes haunted him to this day.

He had almost lost you — you, his precious human — all those years ago and it had been his entire fault.

The possibility of becoming a father had been zero, non-existent, and at one point in his life, he had accepted the fact that he may be not meant to be a father. He stopped caring and someday just forgot about it entirely. The wish to continue his line like any proud leader faded away and instead he settled for the idea of passing on his knowledge and experiences to the pups and Younglings of his people.

Then he met you, this petite beautiful thing, when he was lounging on a building near an alley. He heard you before he saw you, heard you and them.

They were calling you strange names and whistling after you before they decided to follow you down the street. Trying to escape them, you took a left turn and quickened your strides as you crossed the alley.

Mi’ytiar, who was attracted by the noises, slid down the rooftop and soundlessly landed on the metal balcony of one of the apartments. Even from the third floor, he had a perfect view of what was happening down in the alley as the men grabbed you, pushed and pulled on you, and he felt mildly impressed when you started fighting back; kicking, scratching and screaming.

The men’s playful, taunting behavior quickly turned fatal when one of them, fed up with your attempts to flee, slapped you so hard across the face that you stumbled back, tripped over your own feet and fell backwards to the ground.

Your screams quickly turned desperate when one of them pushed up your skirt and tore on your panties, mumbling something about teaching you a lesson while his companions held you down.

At this point, Mi’ytiar knew something had been wrong. Mating between a Yautja male and female consisted of fighting each other, too, but not like this. Not with more than one male and not with the female resisting long after the male fought the female into submission.

Your behavior told him everything he needed to know — you weren’t even close to being interested in mating with those males — and before things could get any worse, he jumped down and killed those who forced themselves on you.

By the time four bodies in various morbid states of dismemberment were littering the alley, your whole body was trembling as you stayed on the ground, cowering.

He had crouched down to your level and one of his bloodied claws reached out to touch your face, your horror-widened eyes watching him with caution.

To him, you were what a kitten was to a human. You were so small, he noted, so small and soft and pink. He also thought you were beautiful, contrastive to what Yautja usually thought about your kind. He took you with him that night and the rest was history.

Even though you weren’t a suitable mate, his clan begrudgingly accepted the idea of a human being with their leader. He couldn’t have pups anyway, so why not just let him indulge himself and let him seek happiness and pleasure in other things?

And then, one day, you told him about your wish to carry his pup. He had been excited, absolutely ecstatic, but not about the image of your rounding belly with his offspring — he knew he was unable to have one — and rather about the fact that you were willing to mate with him in a way that could lead to a child. The fact you loved him and trusted him enough was all he cared about.

As much as he loved his son, he should have done something the second both of you learned that you were pregnant. He had been so overjoyed his human mate was extraordinarily able to have his pup that he never thought about possible consequences.

Anyone would have had serious doubts and would have objected because there was no way a human would survive that, but Mi’ytiar didn’t, too blown away by the prospect of becoming a father.

That changed as the day of the pup being due crept closer and closer, and slowly worry and fear set in.

And to make one thing clear: if you hadn’t been injected with Yautja blood from the beginning — first daily, then weekly, then monthly, until it stopped years ago — you wouldn’t have made it and Akail would have torn you apart from the inside out.

He was glad that Cahrein had kept a cool head and realized that his blood would help you when all other means had failed.

It was like history was repeating itself as he tried to focus on the task at hand — getting you to the ship — and not let the fluid running down his arms and body distract him. He wished he hadn’t dared to look down, to look down and see the blood you were losing, coming from a source that was his fault.

Why did he let you convince him to have a second pup? Why did the mere thought of getting you pregnant again make him so ignorant of your near-death experience? Why did he listen to Cahrein when he told the both of you that another pup was possible? Why did he forget that you weren’t like his kind?

His heavy, thumping footsteps suddenly sounded different, and when you pulled your face away from his chest to look around, you noticed the soft earth of the forest had been replaced by the cold metal of the ship.

As careful and gentle as he could in his rattled state, he put you down on the closest surface he could find — the table used for planning, briefing, and orientation with several holo-maps — and slammed his fist down on the surface. He growled and hissed a few words you couldn’t understand. Your translating earpieces were perfectly fine, but your brain was only picking up the pain shooting through your body instead of noticing any stimuli from your surroundings.

You were so out of it, the tears blurring your view, that you missed the conversation between Mi’ytiar and the holographic image of Cahrein.

“Mi’ytiar.” Cahrein greeted his leader in the customary way of placing his left fist on the right side of his chest while slightly bowing down his head.

“The pup is coming.” Mi’ytiar said without hesitation, straight to the point.

Cahrein rounded the table to stand next to him and he leaned over you to get a better look at you. He reached out to grab your calves to open your legs, but his hands went right through you.

“Pauk. I can’t help her like this. You have to bring her here.”

“No.” You cried out, answering before Mi’ytiar could even open his mouth. “The pup is coming now.”

Cahrein looked conflicted, contemplating what to do next as he was restricted in his actions. He could already tell that this was going to be hard.

“Mi’ytiar, I packed a Medicomp for emergencies when you said you two would go hunt. Get it.”

You let out a whine when your mate disappeared from your side, which was quickly occupied by the healer who noticed your distress. “Calm, (Y/N), calm.”

“It hurts so much.” You cried out.

“I know.” He retorted and eyed the red fluid running down your thighs to your calves, dripping down your toes. “You need to take off clothes.”

With trembling hands, you started to open the pants-like cloth that hugged your legs like a second skin and circled them from your ankles up to your hips. You struggled with the complicated lacing and cursed as you began to rip on them out of frustration.

Bigger hands replaced yours and when you looked up, you saw that Mi’ytiar had returned and stood between your legs. He used his sharp claws to cut the cords open and he pulled the rest of the garment down. He was more considerate with the bloodied panties underneath and tried not to rip them, although you believed that they were irreversibly ruined.

The first and last time he had torn your panties to shreds, you had scolded him for it after he was done fucking you from behind like a dog in his rut. You didn’t have much of your human clothes left — most of them had been replaced by self-made clothes of local fabrics inspired by their style anyway — but what you definitely wanted to keep was your underwear. So when Mi’ytiar returned to you one day from a spontaneous trip to Earth with a dozen new undies, you had been more than thankful.

Mi’ytiar grabbed your ankles, placed both of your feet flat on the table, and spread your thighs apart, stepping aside for Cahrein to finally take a look at you.

The healer’s holo-image got down on his knees and peered between them at what was happening between your legs.

You wanted to hide and press them back together, but you knew that it wasn’t much of help and just let him do his thing. Instead, you let your head loll to the side and looked at your mate.

Mi’ytiar had his hands in fists, keeping them tightly pressed to his sides, and he watched Cahrein with concern and something else in his eyes. You knew he was worried about you. He tried to hide it, tried putting his true feelings behind the mask of a collected and strong leader and warrior like he always did in dicey situations, but you could see right through it.

“And?” He urged Cahrein to finally give him an answer.

“She is ready. She has to push.”

“What about the blood?”

“Incidental. She has to push.”

So that’s what you did.

Taking a deep breath and gripping the edge of the table for the support, you strained every muscle in your body. The resulting blood-curdling scream even got the two Yautja to flinch and Mi’ytiar lunged forward. He pried your fingers away from the table where you had been holding on for dear life and intertwined them with his. You instantly squeezed them and Mi’ytiar let out a surprised hiss.

After a moment, your tense body slumped down. It simply gave up after not being able to endure the pain any longer.

“You need to keep going.”

“I can’t.” You hiccuped, choking on your tears as you shook your head vehemently.

“You can. You did this 30 years ago. It was impressive. I never expected such a tiny creature to survive, but you did. You will again.” Cahrein turned to Mi’ytiar and pointed to the Medicomp. “Take the syringe, take your blood and inject it.”

Rather reluctantly, he loosened the hold you had on him and opened the Medicomp. He rummaged through it, found the syringe, and jabbed it into the flesh of his arm, uncaring of the following pain. You were far more important than anything else right now.

While he filled the syringe with his fluorescent-green blood, Cahrein was talking to you and encouraged you to keep going. He tried to distract you and keep your mind from drifting off to a place of no return.

“Something is wrong.” He murmured after a while.

He had watched Mi’ytiar inject you with three doses of his blood already, but you still were in agonizing pain. You even had lost consciousness twice, something that hadn’t even happened when you birthed your first pup.

You squeezed your eyes shut and only opened them again when the pain subsided a bit. “W-What?”

“You should have started crowning already, but you don’t.”

“Why?” You asked in a long-drawn cry.

Cahrein, for the first time in over thirty years, looked baffled and completely clueless. He couldn’t explain it as he had no idea himself. There had never been complications when the females of his clan gave birth. You were the only exception.

“What are typical problems that arise for oomans during childbirth?” He asked, not knowing what else he could do.

It took a moment until you became aware that you had been asked a question.

“Am-Amniotic fluid e-enters the bloodstream… the u-uterus tears… the ba-baby is in an abnormal p-position… it’s s-stuck…” You offered between pained huffs, trying to come up with as many options as you could think of. “In most emergencies, w-when a natural birth isn’t possible, they d-do a c-section… they cut into t-the woman’s belly a-and get the baby out... and then…”

Mi’ytiar wanted you to stop talking. He wanted you to stop putting images of your cut-open body in front of him. He wanted you to stop making him think of your lifeless form after the pup was pulled out of it.

“You have to incise into her abdomen. I will instruct you.” Cahrein finally said.

Mi’ytiar immediately straightened his back and let out a roar. “No!”

“If you do it, either the pup and (Y/N) survive, or just the pup... but if you do nothing, then they will both die.” Cahrein pressed and eyed you for a second.

You were running out of time.

“I… I can’t.”

He sounded defeated. You had never ever expected to see him like this — so vulnerable, so hopeless, so broken. He was the definition of strength, of courage, of accountability, of resilience, and now only a hollow shadow of the man he was was standing in front of you, thinking about the chance of losing his entire world.

He couldn’t lose you. He couldn’t.

How could it be possible for him to live, breathe, without you?

He had a taste of a life he never wanted to leave, a life he wasn’t able to quit, a life only something as extraordinary as you could give him. Not because you were human, although that was probably one of the aspects, but because you were you.

He loved you.

You had taught him that love was the most valuable thing to a person. Love was worth more than anything else in life. It was such a strong, overwhelming feeling no one could put exactly into words until one actually felt it.

And he loved you.

“No, Mi’ytiar… you have to, you have to.” You urged him between panting breaths. “Save our… our baby. Forget me… ju-just save our son… please.”

Mi’ytiar looked down at you as you begged him to do something he wasn’t willing to do in a million years. Cahrein would have hesitated in his stead, but he wasn’t your mate and would have cut into you. Mi’ytiar, on the other hand, could never do something that would harm you.

But he already did, though. He had doomed you the second his seed took.

“Mi’ytiar!” Cahrein barked and pulled the male out of his thoughts.

His body was on autopilot when his hand reached for a scalpel-like tool from the Medicomp.

“Thank you, thank you!” You cried out.

The only thing you felt was relief as your body slowly went numb, tears clouding your view. Everything around you became blurry and Mi'ytiar started to disappear. The world around you grew darker and darker as he set the sharp blade onto your skin and slowly applied pressure, cutting into you until blood flowed onto the table and down to the floor of the ship, creating a red puddle.

You never even registered the feeling of him cutting you open.

Your body shut down before you could.

continue with the fourth part He Shall Prevail