#but no!!!!!!! suddenly he's thrown into a killing game and just when he thinks he wont lose anyone else! when his guard is down!

[punkshort]

Swept Away | Chapter 6: Undertow

Pairing: sugardaddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel does his best to distance himself after that morning on the yacht, but you finally have enough of his games after attending an art gallery exhibition.

Chapter Warnings: language, slow burn, sugar daddy/baby vibes, food and alcohol consumption, jealousy, sexual tension, flirting, threat of physical violence, good ol' fashioned argument where reader demands some goddamn answers, fingering

A/N: thank you @txtattoostark for beta-ing ❤️ And Happy Birthday @pedropascalsbbg 🎂

WC: 8.7K

Series Masterlist

You weren't going to beg. At least, that's what you told yourself over and over whenever Joel grazed a hand over your back at dinner or you caught him staring at you in your bikini just a little too long.

It had been five excruciating days since the yacht. Five days since that morning you shamelessly fucked yourself on his lap. And five days since you had found another envelope of cash on your pillow after you took a shower. You had stared at it, stomach churning with shame before you tossed it in your bag with the other unopened envelope. You had held out hope that the morning on the yacht would finally tear down his walls and he would let you in, but the cash on your pillow told you that you were wrong.

Ain't part of the deal.

Was that all this was? Were you too naive to think there was something more developing between you?

More than once that week you laid in your bed and wondered how he managed to get you all twisted around so fast. You don't let people steamroll you and you know your worth. That was his assessment of you when you first met, and he was right. That first day in his office you could hardly stand his overly confident and pompous attitude. You stood up for yourself and had a fucking spine. So where did that girl go?

Why don't you hear my terms first and then decide how much your dignity is worth?

How much was your dignity worth now? You rolled onto your side and pulled your knees to your chest, your stomach suddenly feeling queasy. You've never, ever acted this way over a man before. Was it because he kept rejecting you? Were you really that vain? No, that wasn't you. It was something more. You liked him... or, at least, you liked the parts of him he allowed you to see.

And, you don't quit. You're determined.

You breathed out a heavy sigh and rolled out of bed, giving up on the idea of sleep. You had plans to get lunch with Zoe that afternoon but until then, you had nothing but time to kill. Joel had thrown himself back into work the minute you came back from the yacht, so he spent most of his time doing that or he joined Glenn and the others to golf or play cards in the afternoons. He rarely came up for air. If he joined you by the pool, he stayed in the lounge chair, no matter how warm it was, but you could feel his eyes on you when your back was turned. You knew deep down this attraction wasn't one sided, but his resistance was driving you insane.

It was early. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting the living room in a dark blue hue. You sat with your legs tucked under you on the couch, your robe pulled tight over your sleepwear with a cup of coffee clutched between both hands, watching as the sun began to rise over the ocean.

Stop feeling bad for yourself. You're in fucking paradise.

"Oh, you're up."

"Jesus!"

You swiveled around in surprise when you saw Joel standing between the kitchen and living room, panting and covered with sweat. Your eyes swooped down before you could stop them to take in his drenched shirt and athletic shorts before looking him in the eye.

"I didn't even know you were gone," you said while trying your best to ignore the very physical reaction you were having to a post-workout Joel.

"Got an early start," he said before reaching into the fridge for a water. You turned back towards the windows to continue watching the sunrise because if you didn't, your brain was going to short circuit.

It was silent for a few minutes and you had assumed Joel had went to his room to shower, but suddenly he spoke up directly behind you. "Any plans for today?"

You took a sip of coffee so you could resist turning around to gaze at him with big fuck-me eyes. "Just lunch with Zoe."

He hummed while he chugged his water. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up from his proximity, but you remained firm and refused to turn around.

"Meant to tell you last night - Glenn invited the group of us to his daughter's art gallery. She's the curator there," Joel rounded the couch and sat down next to you with a grunt, causing you to tug your legs closer. "She's got some exhibition show all weekend, supposed to be a real big deal for her. Told 'em we'd go and show our support."

You nodded and took another sip from your coffee, eyes still glued to the ocean.

"Alright."

He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and handed you a credit card. "Why don't you go shoppin' with Zoe and get yourself a dress?"

You finally tore your eyes away to look at the heavy, black card dangling from his fingers.

"I think your assistant already bought plenty of options."

"So what's one more?" he asked with a little grin. He tilted his head to the side and caught your eye before saying, "I want you to pick somethin' out. Not my assistant. Want you to get somethin' you like."

The gesture was weak, but it was there, so you slowly took the card and slid it into the pocket of your robe. "Okay. Thank you."

"You're welcome, darlin'," he said breezily before standing up to head towards his room. Only then did you allow your eyes to slide appreciatively down his back, your gaze lingering until he disappeared down the hall. You set your coffee mug down on the table before pulling the heavy credit card from your pocket to examine it. He infuriated you with how easily he was able to disregard what happened while you had spent almost every waking moment for the past week obsessing over it. Then a slow smile spread across your face as you tucked the credit card away for safe keeping.

If he wanted to play games, you could play right back.

"Holy fuck, girl," Zoe gasped when you stepped out from behind the curtain of the fitting room. She was holding a glass of champagne daintily between her fingers, her long legs crossed over one another as she perched on the edge of a pure white sofa. "That's the one. You have to get it. Joel's gonna lose his shit."

You grinned and turned towards the three panel mirror in front of a small platform. Stepping up, you swished the red satin material back and forth, admiring the way it hugged your curves but the eye was particularly drawn to the long slit up your left leg, ending mere inches away from your hip.

"You think so? You don't think it's a little much for an art gallery?"

Zoe shook her head and stood to join you in the mirror. "No, it's absolutely stunning. It was fucking made for you."

You couldn't stop smiling as you fiddled with the off the shoulder sleeves. "Alright, fine," you conceded as Zoe giddily clapped her hands.

After you carefully stepped out of the dress and handed it to a sales clerk, you put your own clothes back on and made your way through the store to the register when something else caught your eye.

You picked up a matching red silk thong with black lace embroidery, feeling the smooth material between your fingers.

"No brainer," Zoe said before you even questioned if you should get it. You giggled and tried your best to ignore the absurd price tag and brought it to the counter with you. You handed over Joel's credit card while the sales clerk carefully wrapped up both items in what you thought should be solid fucking gold given the price of everything in the store, then you were both on your way back to the hotel.

"Good use of an afternoon, if I do say so myself," Zoe said with an easy laugh. You had to agree, although for a different reason. For the first time all week, you felt like yourself again. The shame and the embarrassment didn't have room in your head while Zoe kept you entertained over lunch. You thought when it came time to shop for a dress with Joel's money, those feelings would come rushing back, but no. You felt confident and sexy and if Joel's reaction to your new acquisitions was half of Zoe's, you would finally have the upper hand.

By the time you arrived back to your room, you were feeling worlds better. You quietly shut the door behind you in case Joel was on a call and kicked off your strappy sandals before making your way into the living space. Joel turned around from the dining table to glance your way once before turning back to his laptop.

"Have fun?"

"Mhmm, thank you," you told him, sliding his card across the table. His eyes flickered from the card to your face to the wardrobe bag and small box in your hand.

"Found somethin' you liked?"

You grinned and nodded vigorously. "Very much."

Joel could pick up on your improved mood almost instantly and a wave of relief washed over him. He kept fucking things up with you, but that was no surprise. What was a surprise was how bad he felt when it became apparent you were hurt by something he did or said. He convinced himself it was all for the best, anyway. The more he pushed you away, the easier it would be.

"That's great," he said, eyes trailing after you as you walked towards your room. "Goin' to meet Glenn and the others for golf in a bit." He fucking hated golf, but he sucked it up to rub the right elbows. "You gonna be alright on your own for dinner?"

You glanced over your shoulder and nodded. "I think I'm just going to sit out by the pool and call it an early night. Didn't sleep too well."

You disappeared inside your bedroom and he focused back on his work. You must have went outside because it was so quiet, he became so engrossed in work that he nearly lost track of time. When the calendar reminder popped up on his phone, he quickly shut down his laptop and stood, gathering his things so he could run and get changed, but he only made it one step away from the table before he froze.

He swallowed thickly when he saw you sunbathing, which wasn't out of the ordinary but this time you had chosen to remove your bikini top completely, leaving it discarded in a pathetic little pile next to your chair. You were face down so he couldn't see anything except your perfect ass covered by a deep purple, barely there swimsuit bottom, but it was enough to send a rush of blood between his legs.

He had been doing so good. He forced himself into staying busy, staying away from you, because otherwise he knew it wouldn't take much to tear down what little defenses he had left, especially after that morning on the yacht. And now here you were, practically laid out on a silver platter for him once again while he fought with his inner demons.

Forcing one foot in front of the other, he began to move slowly down the hallway, the destination his bedroom but his eyes remained glued to the window at the end of the hall. He was within arms length of his room. If only he had moved just a hair faster because then he wouldn't have seen you sit up to get a drink of water. He wouldn't have seen the towel you had been laying on get stuck on the arm of the lounge chair. And he wouldn't have caught a quick but very revealing eye full of your bare chest.

"Shit," he whispered to himself as he continued to stare, feeling like a creep but still unable to move. You had quickly covered back up, unaware he had seen a thing as he stood cemented to the ground outside his bedroom, his cock uncomfortably hard. So hard that it made his stomach hurt.

He should have fucked you when he had the chance.

No, that would be wrong. You had no idea the type of man he was, and you deserved far better than him.

But maybe you would like him anyway.

He shook his head, muttering no under his breath as he tore his eyes away from you and slipped inside his bedroom.

He wouldn't fall for it. Not again.

"Glenn's daughter's name is Rose," Joel had told you in the car. He was forcing himself to stare out the window instead of your exposed leg in that slinky fucking dress that made him lightheaded the moment he first saw you in it. "His youngest. It's her first big exhibition as a curator. Supposed to be mostly abstract art from a local artist that's growin' a large following online."

You hadn't been to an art gallery since you were in high school. Art was never really an interest of yours and it was a topic you knew very little about, so you prayed nobody would try to test your knowledge at any point during the night.

When you first stepped into the modernist building, you had to take a moment to absorb your surroundings in awe.

The floor was a shiny, dark hardwood that contrasted nicely with the off white walls which held stunning paintings around the entire room. There was the occasional piece of furniture, a couple of chairs or a table, but the room was designed mostly with space for movement in mind.

The room itself appeared to have three or four partially closed off smaller rooms, most likely created that way so the artist could break up different sections of their collection. And most of the lighting came from the small spotlights hung directly above each wall so it allowed guests to view the works of art in the best possible light.

"This place is beautiful," you whispered so only Joel could hear. He had his arm wrapped protectively around your waist, hardly giving his surroundings a second glance when he had you looking like a piece of art right next to him.

"Hey, Miller," a deep voice said from behind, startling you both. Turning around, you tried to keep your face from falling when you were greeted by Scott and Tammy. Scott stretched out his arm and Joel reluctantly removed his grasp on you to shake his hand.

"Some place, huh?" Scott remarked, glancing around at the art while you and Tammy tried to avoid looking at one another.

"Yeah, seems like a really talented artist," Joel replied. Scott shrugged and made a face just as a young woman in her early twenties walked slowly past, all alone, and stopped in front of a blue and pink painting.

"Abstract ain't really my thing," he said, "I'll have to take your word for it." You frowned and looked around incredulously.

"Are you kidding?" you asked without even thinking. All three looked at you in surprise and the young woman nearby tilted her head to listen.

"What do you mean?" Tammy asked with an air of fake politeness.

"What I mean is this artist is extremely talented," you said, sweeping your arm out to your side to gesture to a wall of paintings. "Look at the way they used complimentary colors in each piece. Look at the texture. I don't know much about abstract art, either, but if you can't feel something when you look at these paintings, you probably should check your pulse."

The young woman smirked to herself and walked away while Scott and Tammy stared at you in surprise. The corner of Joel's mouth twitched and he ducked his chin into his chest.

"N-no, you're right," Scott stammered guiltily, taking another look around the room. "It's always good to broaden your horizons and try to find enjoyment in things you don't expect. Right, Tam?"

You smiled sweetly at them both as you felt Joel's hand slink around your waist again.

"Yes," Tammy hissed through her teeth. "Of course, you're right. Why don't we go admire the paintings that look like someone kicked a few cans of color over the canvas and called it a day?"

Scott's ears turned a little red and excused them both. While they walked away, you caught them angrily whispering to each other and you turned to smirk at Joel.

"Sorry," you told him. He just shook his head and steered you in the opposite direction.

"No, you ain't."

You giggled. "Yeah, you're right."

Then much to your surprise, he leaned over to kiss the top of your head. Before you had a chance to react, you were greeted by Glenn and Mary.

"Oh, there you are!" Mary exclaimed before wrapping her fingers around the shoulders of a beautiful blonde girl who appeared to be in her mid twenties. Her hair was brushed back into a neat, professional bun and she wore a white blouse with flowing sleeves and well fitting black slacks.

"This is our daughter, Rose," Mary beamed. You both eagerly shook her hand and introduced yourselves before you added, "This is such a lovely gallery, thank you for having us."

"Pleasure's all mine," she said with a wide grin. "Truthfully I was terrified only five people would show up."

You laughed and glanced quickly around the packed room. "Looks like it's a little more than five."

"And I'm so grateful," Rose said sincerely. "The artist is so talented that I would have felt horrible if we had a poor showing."

"Where is the artist, anyway?" Glenn asked.

"They have an anonymous persona, it's how they prefer it. Even online, no one knows their real name or what they look like. Took a while before they even trusted me enough to meet face to face," Rose explained with a smile and shrug. "Genius tends to bring along little quirks."

Shortly thereafter, someone else stole Rose's attention and with a quick wave to Glenn and Mary, Joel led you away to look at the art a little closer.

"So, what'dya think so far?" Joel asked, plucking two glasses of champagne from a serving tray before joining you in front of a pink and blue painting that caught your eye earlier. You thanked him softly for the drink and continued to stare at the painting.

"I'll be honest, I thought I would hate it but I think I'm in love," you joked. Joel chuckled and gestured to the painting with his glass.

"You like this one?"

You nodded and took a sip of champagne. "It reminds me of something," you said, tilting your head to the side, studying each stroke of blues, pinks and bits of white throughout the canvas. "I find it so peaceful to look at."

He nodded in agreement and inched a little closer to your side. "So it makes you feel somethin'."

You flushed and averted your eyes. "I hope that didn't embarrass you."

Joel shook his head. "'Course not. I liked it. I like when you stand your ground and speak your mind."

"Careful what you wish for," you chuckled. He grinned and let his eyes roam up and down your body for a moment before blowing a disbelieving puff of air past his lips and shaking his head.

"Did I tell you how beautiful you look?"

Butterflies erupted in your stomach and you wanted to kick yourself for being so weak for him.

"Thank you," you breathed, watching as his eyes continued to devour you. "I picked it out for you," you added a little nervously. His eyebrows shot up and you held your breath as he leaned in a little closer.

"That right?" he murmured, knuckles dragging gently down your arm and sending a shiver down your spine. "Thought 'bout me when you were tryin' on dresses? Wondered what I would like the most?"

"Mhmm," you hummed, eyelids growing heavy as you fell under his spell with ease. "And I got something else, too," you whispered, knowing full well you were pushing it, but you couldn't resist.

It took him a moment, but he figured out what you meant. You could see it in his eyes when they flickered down to your waist and then back up. They turned a shade darker and his jaw tensed, like he was physically trying to restrain himself.

"Careful," he warned lowly. The way he said it made you wonder if he was talking to you or himself.

"Or what?" you teased, cocking your head to the side playfully. He maintained his intense stare for another moment before dragging his gaze away and clearing his throat. His eyes found the painting again and he jutted his chin towards it.

"You really like it that much?"

You blinked, trying to keep up with the quick change in tone. At this point, you weren't sure why you were surprised anymore. Turning back to look at it, you nodded.

"Alright, then," Joel said firmly. "Excuse me."

You swiveled around and watched him weave his way through the crowd, making a beeline for Glenn, Mary, and Rose. You had to stifle your laugh when you realized what he was doing, but then you made eye contact with a set of dark brown, almost black eyes next to Rose and the smile slid right off your face.

Of course Brooks would be there. Why didn't you think of that sooner?

When you spun back around to give the painting one last look, you were surprised to find a young woman standing next to you admiring the painting, as well.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly, then tucked a loose piece of brown hair behind her ear. The rest of her hair was pulled into a messy bun and she wore a midnight black suit with a matching tie.

"No need, I wasn't paying attention," you said sweetly. The pair of you stood in silence for a few minutes while the laughter and clinking glasses from the other guests occupied the air.

"Isn't this piece beautiful?" you asked her, trying to strike up a conversation. She grinned and shrugged.

"What do you find beautiful about it?"

You looked back at the painting, letting your gaze slide over the differing shades of blues, pinks, and whites.

"It's calming," you said. "I feel like I've seen it before but I can't pinpoint where."

The young woman nodded, urging you to continue.

You studied it a moment longer and then let out a dry chuckle. "You know, I'm gonna sound crazy, but there are these pink seashells in the ocean. My fiancé picked some up for me when we were swimming last week. It reminds me of the way they looked through the water, like the pink all distorted with the blue."

"That's exactly right."

You turned to her in surprise. "W-what do you mean?"

She stuck out her hand and you could see the beginnings of a tattoo running up her sleeve. "I'm Ellie. The artist."

"Oh, my god!" you practically exclaimed, covering your mouth before remembering your manners and shaking her hand, giving her your name. "You are incredibly talented," you told her, "and I swear I'm not just saying that."

"I know," she said, releasing your hand and shoving it back into her pants pocket. "I heard you defending me to that asshole and that overly botoxed wife of his. Thank you, by the way."

You laughed and shook your head in disbelief. "You're so welcome." You looked back at the painting as you tried to calm your racing thoughts. "So the seashells on the ocean floor inspired this?"

"Yep," she said, rocking back and forth on her heels. "That one over there's palm trees in a tropical storm. The one next to it is all the different colored beach umbrellas at a resort. And the one all the way in the corner is -"

"Wait, let me guess."

Ellie smiled. "Okay."

You studied it for a minute, tapping your finger against you chin, deep in thought.

"Oh!" you said excitedly. "All the hibiscus flowers along the highway!"

She nodded with a look that told you she was impressed.

"How'd you tell?"

"We drove by them on our first day. You used greys at the bottom and bits of green in between, representing the bushes, right?"

"You got it," she said with a laugh.

"Wow," you breathed as you looked around at her paintings in a completely different light. "I know I sound like a broken record, but you're so talented. You truly have a gift."

"Thanks," Ellie said shyly. "I don't do good in crowds though, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone who I am."

"Promise," you said, giving her your pinky finger. She grinned and looped her finger around yours with a firm shake, and then her phone chimed in her pocket. She let you go and pulled it out, her expression unreadable.

"This painting just sold," she said softly, eyes slowly widening. "Shit, I'm sorry. I would've-"

"It's alright," you told her, glancing over your shoulder, but you couldn't spot Joel anywhere. "I think I know who bought it."

Ellie breathed a sigh of relief and put her phone away. "The fiancé?"

You nodded. "I should probably go thank him."

"Thank him for me, too," she joked. "It was great meeting you."

"Likewise," you said, giving her hand one more shake. "Good luck with the rest of the evening."

You weaved your way through the crowd, heading towards the back of the building where you last saw Joel. On your way, you caught Zoe's eye from across the room and waved, laughing when she fanned herself and gave you an exaggerated once over.

"Hi, honey," Glenn said when he spotted you walking by.

"Hi... have you seen Joel?" you asked, then Brooks piped up with an sinister smile.

"Think he went towards the bathrooms with Scott's wife," he told you, pretending to search his brain while his foot tapped restlessly against the wooden floor. Then he snapped his fingers as if struck with a great idea. "Tammy! That's her name, right?"

Your blood felt like fire in your veins and it must have shown because Brooks grinned and shot you a wink before you hurried off towards the back of the room.

The bathrooms were down a long hallway and around the bend. You walked as fast as you could without the sound of your heels causing someone to think you were running. As you approached the turn, you heard Joel's voice before you got a chance to see him. You couldn't hear what he said over your own heavy breathing, but his tone sounded surprised.

When you turned the corner, you stopped dead in your tracks, unable to believe your eyes.

There, right in front of the men's bathroom, was Tammy. She was pressing her lips against Joel's with her long, fake fingernails raking through his hair. You were too stunned and just barely had a moment to process the shocked look on Joel's face, one where his eyes didn't even close and his brows furrowed in anger before he pushed her back and wiped his mouth with his hand.

Before he had a chance to say anything, someone shouted down the corridor, causing them both to swivel in your direction. It wasn't until you had almost closed in on them that you realized you were the one shouting.

"You fucking bitch!" you yelled, lunging forward, completely fueled by white hot rage. Joel's arms wrapped around you before you could hit her like you intended, but you did manage to get your fingers around a good chunk of her hair. She yelped and clawed at your wrist, begging you to let go, but you ignored her pleas. Instead, you shook her head back and forth like a dog and it wasn't until her hair-do was almost completely destroyed that you finally let go, but not before angrily kicking in her direction while Joel hauled you away.

"You fucking psycho!" she screeched, frantically trying to tame her hair as she stumbled against the wall. "Nothing even happened!"

"Stay away from my fucking fiancé or so help me, I'll undo a decade of plastic surgery in ten minutes," you sneered.

"Relax!" Joel told you sternly. He turned his attention to Tammy, who was catching her breath and looked like a dissolved mess. "Get outta here," he snapped, and just like that, she scurried into the women's room to try to fix her hair.

He released his grip around you and you immediately turned on him.

"What the fuck?" you seethed, jabbing a shaky finger into his chest. He held up his palms and shook his head.

"You saw it, I didn't kiss her back, I need you calm the fuck down right now."

You dragged in a deep, ragged breath but you were still driven by unbridled anger.

"You told me this was over," you said through clenched teeth. Joel grabbed your wrists but you shook him off and stepped back. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his other hand propped on his hip.

"It is," he said calmly. "She was waitin' for me and - y'know what? I don't gotta explain anythin' to you," he glanced up and down the hallway before dropping his voice and towering over you, anger now radiating off him. "Do I gotta remind you this ain't real?"

Tears sprung up in your eyes but you quickly blinked them away. "I don't care. Anyone could have come down this hallway and seen you, and then what? Huh? What if it was Glenn? What if it was fucking Scott?"

He knew you were right, but he just silently glared down at you, each of you breathing heavily as the adrenaline began to wear off.

"I'm leaving," you told him, gathering up your dress and straightening it out. "I'm so sick and tired of your fucking head games and I won't stay here and let you embarrass me any longer."

Something in his expression changed but you didn't linger long enough to find out what it was. You bunched up the skirt of your dress and quickly walked away, doing your best to move fast without breaking a heel. You heard Joel call your name but you ignored him, hellbent on disappearing into the crowd and getting away from him as fast as possible.

Something inside him broke when you said you were leaving. Something deep in his chest he didn't expect to feel, and suddenly he was overcome with an immense amount of guilt and shame. He needed to apologize. He needed to make things right.

Shit, did you mean you were leaving for good? Or just leaving the art gallery? Why did he keep saying the wrong fucking thing?

Panic coursed through his veins in seconds and he found himself rushing after you. He must have looked like a fool when he raced out of the hallway and back into the bustling gallery, head twisting around every which way as he desperately searched for a flash of your deep red dress, but all he saw was a sea of unrecognizable faces.

"Better keep an eye on that one."

Joel spun around, eyes wild, when he came face to face with Brooks.

"Which way did she go?" he asked. Brooks just grinned and casually swiped at his nose with a sniffle and Joel narrowed his eyes.

"Where?" he said, dropping his voice angrily. Brooks held up his hands and chuckled.

"Calm down," he warned, making the hairs on the back of Joel's neck stand up. "She looked like she was going towards the side exit. Looked pretty upset. Hope there's no trouble in paradise."

Something about the way Brooks said it gave Joel pause.

"No," Joel said, eyes flickering towards the door, "We're fine. She just wanted to head back to the hotel."

Brooks nodded and rubbed at his chin. "That's a relief. I'd hate for someone to come along and snatch her up from you."

"What did you just say?" Joel asked, taking a menacing step forward before catching himself. What the fuck did that mean?

"C'mon, you know what I mean," he replied, nudging Joel's shoulder good naturedly as if he were in on some joke. Joel clenched his teeth and tried to refrain from doing something stupid, and if he wasn't Glenn's son, he might not have held back. "Girl like that needs to be taken care of."

"I take care of her just fine," Joel said defensively, and as much as he wished he could figure out exactly what Brooks thought he knew, he didn't have time to waste. "Tell your parents she wasn't feelin' well and we had to leave."

Before Joel stepped away, Brooks winked and gave him a thumbs up. "Sure thing, man."

He hurried through the crowd, a chorus of excuse mes being uttered from his lips every other second until he finally reached the door.

The moment he stepped outside he was hit with the tropical humidity he had somehow grown accustomed to in the past two weeks, but also finally found some quiet.

He took a moment to take a few deep breaths and look around. When he spotted you further down the street with your arms wrapped around your middle and your dress fluttering in the night breeze, he breathed a sigh of relief.

You were waiting for the car to pull around with your chin tucked into your chest and he swore if he had made you cry again he would never forgive himself. But when you heard him approach and lifted your head, he didn't see tears. Instead, he saw disappointment mixed with anger.

He couldn't decide which made him feel worse.

"I'm sorry," he tried, but you shook your head as the car pulled up to the curb. He tried to reach out and open the door for you but you didn't allow it, so he hurried around to the other side of the car and slid into the seat next you.

Once the driver pulled out onto the street, he readjusted himself in his seat and turned to look at you.

"Not here," you said coldly before he could speak, gaze pinned to your window. He clamped his mouth shut and sat back. It was smart. He couldn't risk the driver overhearing something and spreading rumors, so instead he focused on what he was going to say to you to make things right once you were back in the room.

I'm sorry, she doesn't mean anything.

Would that imply you do mean something to him? Of course, you did, but he couldn't share that with you. Not after he just told you twenty minutes prior what you had wasn't real.

I'm sorry, this situation is more complicated than you thought.

Somehow he thought that wouldn't go over well.

He knew what he should really say but he couldn't bring himself to do it. I'm sorry for confusing you and leading you on. I can't help myself, I'm weak.

So instead, he settled on I'm sorry, you were right. If someone else saw, it would have ruined everything.

That is exactly what he said to you once the hotel room door finally closed behind you and you kicked off your heels, snatching them up in your hand and storming into the living room.

"Yeah, no shit," you muttered over your shoulder.

"C'mon, you know what you saw," he pleaded, "you know she took me by surprise when I was comin' outta the bathroom. I had nothin' to do with it. I told you it was over and it is, I don't know why-"

"Good question, Joel," you said, spinning around to pin him with a glare. "Why did she think she could do that? Hm?"

Joel shook his head and shrugged. "I don't know."

"Alright, let me ask you this," you said, dropping your shoes to the floor and perching against the dining room table. "What did she say to you on the yacht?"

"When?"

"You know damn well when," you snapped. You were getting too fed up now to play nice and it felt liberating to have that side of you back once again. You don't let people steamroll you. "When she followed you inside that day before the island dinner. When you told me, I only need to know what you say I need to know. Well, Joel, I need to know. So fucking tell me. What'd she say?"

His nostrils flared when he took a deep breath. People didn't talk to him like that. If it were anyone else, he would send them packing without a second thought, and maybe with a few choice words in return. But you? He couldn't do it. He couldn't stomach the thought of losing you.

"Fine," he grumbled, yanking out a chair at the table next to where you were standing and collapsing into it. He tugged at his tie, loosening the knot so it hung wide at his neck, then unfastened the top two buttons of his dress shirt before he spoke.

"She was surprised to hear 'bout our engagement. Wondered why I didn't warn her. Asked if we're happy. Usual beatin' 'round the bush shit."

You quirked an eyebrow and crossed your ankles. "What do you mean, beat around the bush? What was she really asking about?"

He raked his fingers through his hair and shrugged. "Y'know. Lookin' to see if I was interested in meetin' up with her during the stay."

"And what did you say?"

He rolled his eyes and gave you a disbelieving look. "The hell you think I said? No. I fuckin' said no."

"And she still kissed you after you said no on the yacht?"

"Yeah," he replied, crossing his arms and glancing up at you. "Think you ruffled her feathers a bit. Got her jealous."

You scoffed and looked away but secretly you found a sick sense of satisfaction from it.

"Happy now?" he asked after the silence dragged on a moment too long for his liking.

"Thrilled," you said sarcastically. You clasped your hands together in front of you and stared down at the floor. He watched you for another minute, feeling the energy in the room begin to shift back to normal, and he smirked to himself.

"What?"

"Never had two women fight over me before," he said with a wide smile, one which he tried to cover with his palm when he dragged his hand over his mouth.

"Yeah, well," you murmured, fiddling with your ring, "I would have wrecked her if you didn't stop me."

"I got no doubt," he replied, his hand dropping to find your exposed knee. Now that you seemed less pissed, his focus was being drawn back to you wearing that dress just for him. And then he remembered your earlier comment and it took every ounce of restraint not to slide his hand up your thigh and under your skirt to see what else you had on.

"We were havin' such a nice time 'fore all that happened," he murmured, his gaze wandering up and down your leg and you felt yourself begin to soften. "Think you were sayin' you bought more than just the dress, hm?"

Goddamnit, how did he do it? How did he manage to pull every emotion out of you in just one evening?

"You wanna see?" you asked, hoping he didn't hear the tremor in your voice or notice the way your legs fell open a fraction more.

He lifted an eyebrow and smirked, gaze still fixed on your bare leg while his hand began to migrate further past your knee.

Yes, he wanted to say. Yes, please show me. Let me see all of you. But he caught himself and his hand stilled.

"Why don't you just tell me, instead?"

"Or you could just move your hand a few more inches and find out for yourself," you teased, spreading your thighs a little more. His fingers pressed into your skin and you saw him swallow.

"Can't, y'know that."

You let out a frustrated huff and pushed yourself off the table, away from him.

"You're confusing the fuck out of me, Joel! One second you're all over me and the next you're pushing me away. And don't try to tell me it's all for show. You do this shit all the time."

You marched into the living room and plopped down onto one of the couches. You were fucking tired. Tired from the rollercoaster evening, tired from Joel's mixed signals, tired from everything.

He stood up with a groan and followed you to the living room, raking his fingers through his hair as he moved.

"I'm tryin' to protect you," he snapped, startling you. "I don't fuckin' trust myself 'round you, don't you see that? Don't you see what you're doin' to me?"

His fingers twitched at his sides as he stood in front of you, imploring you to understand with a pained look on his face.

"Then why are you fighting it?" you whined, standing up. As you approached you saw his shoulders stiffen, but he didn't move away. "Why can't we-"

"'Cause I ain't a good man, darlin'," he said sadly, gaze dropping to the floor. "You deserve so much better."

"But I like you," you told him softly, reaching out and taking his hand. You brought it up to cup your face while a war waged behind his eyes. "I refuse to believe you're not a good man, Joel."

You turned so you could press a kiss into the palm of his hand, then slowly guided his arm lower, all the while staring him right in the eye until his fingertips brushed against the slit in your dress. Your breath hitched as you led him lower, underneath the material until his fingers finally came in contact with the silky red panties trimmed with black lace.

"Fuck," he whispered, cheeks tinting pink and eyes all wide and dark when he felt the wet patch that had seeped through. After that, he couldn't stop himself. "Dirty fuckin' girl," he growled, taking a step closer so he could tower over you while two thick fingers pressed and stroked steadily over your panties. A breathy moan slipped past your lips and you released his arm so you could grab onto his shoulders for support. Joel wrapped his other arm around your waist and walked you back towards the sofa, all the while staring down at you like he was a predator who finally caught their prey.

You thought he would have laid you down but to your surprise, he twisted you both around at the last second and sat down on the couch, legs spread wide. He removed his hand from between your legs and you were about to protest when you heard the deafening tear of fabric. You gasped and looked down to see Joel had torn your brand new fucking dress from the slit up, exposing half your stomach.

"What the f-" you were about to scold him and tell him how much you liked that goddamn dress when he grabbed you by the hips and yanked you forward so he could bury his face against your clothed pussy. Your eyes bugged out of your head and you grabbed his hair to keep you steady, your shaky legs no longer able to be trusted. And when he took a deep, steady breath in through his nose, your face flushed with heat while staining the red satin of your underwear even darker.

"You smell so fuckin' good," he groaned before taking another deep breath. "Bet you taste even better."

"Jesus Christ," you whimpered, your fingers getting tangled in his hair. "Please, Joel, please..."

"Sit on my lap," he demanded, tearing himself away and leaning back into the couch. He slapped the tops of his thighs and ushered you forward with his fingers.

On shaky legs, you obeyed, spreading them wide so you could rest them on either side of his thighs. He stretched up to latch his mouth onto the hollow part underneath your jaw while his fingers resumed their torturous pace over your center.

"You're right, these were made to be seen," he murmured against your throat. Your hips began to rock, encouraging him to keep going with each little sound from the back of your throat. "Got these just for me, huh? Wanted me to see 'em?"

"Yeah," you whined, arms circling around his neck and jaw falling open as he brought you closer and closer to your climax without still having actually touched you.

"What'd you want me to do, baby?" he asked softly. Your breath was growing shallow and the noises you were making were getting louder and he smirked, knowing you were close from just a few minutes of petting you through your clothes. If this is how responsive you were from just his fingers, he couldn't fucking wait to take you apart with his cock. "Tell me. Did'ya want me to bend you over the table?"

You nodded and gasped when his fingers began to move faster. "Everywhere. In the car. At the art gallery. In the fucking elevator... fuck, Joel!"

His cock swelled in his pants, the material already too unforgiving and tight, when you came shouting his name. A shudder ran through your body when you slumped forward to rest your head on his shoulder, but unfortunately he didn't give you the courtesy of recovery because in an instant, he hooked the material of your underwear to the side and two fingers slid right into your soaked cunt.

You weren't sure who groaned louder, you or Joel, but it felt like both of you were equally desperate.

"Oh, fuck," you whimpered, sweat dotting your forehead and upper lip from the welcome intrusion his fingers caused. You forced yourself to straighten back up so you could grab his face with both hands and slant your mouth eagerly over his. His tongue immediately invaded your mouth and his wrist began to snap between your legs, causing your mind to go numb as you focused solely on the pleasure he was giving you.

"Joel," you moaned in between biting at his lower lip. "I don't think I can come again."

"Yes, you fuckin' will," he said roughly. His free hand, which was clutching your hip, began to guide you up and down on his fingers. "You wanted me so bad and now you're tellin' me you can't come again? Gimme what I want and maybe I'll give you what you want."

You nodded dumbly and followed his lead, rolling your hips and then bouncing on his lap until you found what worked and you felt that familiar warmth building low in your stomach again.

"Keep going, just like that," you panted against his lips. He nodded, eyes so dark they looked black as he stared up at you. Your eyes were squeezed shut, too focused on chasing your high to see the way he was looking at you. It was probably for the best because he was fairly certain you would be able to see right through him in that moment and it scared the shit out of him.

"Oh, fuck, baby, that's it," he breathed, pulling you closer so he could hide his face against your throat. He could feel you tightening around his fingers and your nails were digging into his shoulders, the bite of pain sending shivers down his spine. Your moans grew more high pitched and your skin felt hot to the touch. He leaned forward on the couch and, circling his other arm around your waist, tugged you as close as possible while using the force from his entire body to thrust his fingers as deep as he could into your cunt, curling them inside you each time he retracted his hand.

"Oh, god, Joel," you whined breathlessly, stomach tensing the closer you came to your orgasm. "I think... I think I'm gonna-"

You cut yourself off with a shaky moan when you came for the second time, your entire body pulsing in his arms as your orgasm shot through you violently, taking every shred of energy you had left.

You murmured softly against his neck when he eventually dragged his fingers out of you. Your eye cracked open just in time to see him pop both fingers into his mouth and hum appreciatively to himself while still holding you close against his chest.

"You alright?" he asked before kissing the top of your head.

"You ruined my dress," you whispered sleepily. He chuckled, the vibrations from his chest melting into yours, making you smile.

"It's not funny. It was over a thousand dollars."

"Money well spent," he replied before tipping the back of his head against the couch with a deep sigh. He was still painfully hard but you were too weak and tired to do anything about it. He maneuvered you so your legs were no longer spread open on his lap, then hooked an arm underneath your knees. With his other arm around your shoulders, he stood with a groan and began to carry you down the hall.

Your own arms were still wrapped tightly around his neck and once he approached the bedrooms, you opened your eyes to see which room he would pick. It didn't surprise you when he turned into your room but you were too tired to really care.

"You oughta change outta this dress," he murmured as he laid you down in bed.

"Mhmm, I will," you promised, then smiled when he brushed your hair out of your eyes and kissed your forehead.

"Get some sleep," he said, and just as he was about to step back into the hall, you called out his name. He spun around, the sight of you spread out over your bed, all fucked out in a torn up dress giving him pause before he cleared his throat and responded.

"Yeah?"

"You better not fucking tip me this time."

You giggled when you saw the grin on his face and he shook his head in disbelief.

"'Night."

"Good night."

Once he left, you slipped out of the dress but you couldn't bring yourself to throw it out, so you zipped it back up in its bag and tucked it into the back of your closet before drifting off and feeling the calmest you ever felt.

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[misteria247]

*inhales gently*

I love the Reverse Portal Au because it's an au that's so full of angst potential. Mainly Stanford angst. Like let me explain-

If Stan went into the portal instead of Ford, it would have forced him to come to terms with some things. A bit of a reap what you sow and you don't know what you have till it's gone kind of thing. It's easy to remain angry at someone when you can bury your head in the sand so to speak. When you subconsciously know that essentially that person's relatively safe. You feel like you have all the time in the world to hold onto things like grudges.

Till you're reminded that nothing is timeless.

That's something Ford would be reminded of as soon as Stanley disappears into the portal. It's like a bucket of ice water being thrown on him because it's suddenly a horrifying reality that Stanley, his twin, his little brother could possibly be dead. There one minute, then gone the next. And it's then that grudges and old hurts suddenly have no meaning because despite everything Stanley is still his brother and now he's gone.

Ford would never hear him laugh again. Would never see him and his smile. Wouldn't hear his jokes or feel his arm on his shoulders in a hug anymore. Everything that makes Stanley, Stanley would be gone in the blink of an eye. And that realization would eat Ford alive. And the kicker???

It'd be his fault. (Kinda).

After all, he built the machine. He's the one who trusted Bill over his friend. He's the one who called Stan to come to Gravity Falls. It's like a sick, twisted joke that he in his anger and delirium, while trying to protect the world and by extension Stan, would be the one to do the metaphorical killing blow. And it's after this horrible thing, and months and months of trying to figure out how to help Stanley that he's forced to think about everything. From the argument 10 years ago to the tragedy that Ford unwittingly played a role in. And he regrets so much, regrets that he never got to fix things with his twin. That he never got to sit with him and enjoy his company and share more memories with him.

That he never got the chance to tell Stan that he loves him and that he's sorry.

It's this experience that makes him feel the loss, because it's different being angry when the other party's there and in one piece. It's a whole other ball game when they're gone. And now that Stan's gone, Ford realizes that he took Stan for granted because all he can do is think about things and grieve at the unfairness of everything. He spends the next 3 decades reaping what he sown and it drives him nearly mad with guilt, regret and grief. And then there's Bill who'd fucking feed those feelings in his cruel unusual way, tormenting Stanford and letting him know that his brother's demise was all Ford's doing. Even though it was an accident.

This is only just a little bit of what I'm trying to put down here do you see my vision?????? Do you see why I'm unhinged with the potential here?????

[americaswritings]

When we stole the night

Warnings: violence, mentions of killing, Coriolanus being himself, his thoughts, mix of book/film elements

Summary: When Coriolanus is send into the arena to get Sejanus he doesn't make it out and has to hide in the tunnels. That is where he finds you, his tribute.

Words: 3.2k

Pairing: Young Coriolanus Snow x reader

Masterlist | Hunger Games Masterlist | Add yourself to my taglist!

Coriolanus was running.

He was surrounded by darkness, the light in front of him where the peacekeepers secured the gate the only source of light apart from the dim moonshine.

Hundreds of thoughts were running through his head, at the top of them images of killing the boy, but he pushed them away.

Buried the anger and resentment he felt towards Sejanus, who had roped him into this situation just because he felt guilty for Marcus’s death and couldn’t move on from his life at the district.

Fear and the panic of suddenly becoming prey clouded his mind and he could barely think straight as he ran for his life. Something sizzled through the air next to him, so close to his ear that he stumbled in shock and lost his footing for a moment.

But he didn’t dare to look who had thrown the weapon, could only hope that it had been their only one as he tried to find his pace again.

His leg was burning, a pain he tried to ignore but slowed him down drastically as he attempted to catch up with Sejanus, who was at the gate now.

Despite the immediate medical attention Coriolanus had received when he had gotten injured during the bombing attack from the rebels, there had been too little time for the wound to heal and with every step he took he was slowing down.

It was only a matter of time until they got to him.

The adrenaline was pulsing through his veins as he heard Sejanus yell his name. Breaking out of his narrow focus for the gate he looked up just in time to see Coral launch an attack at him. He ducked, stumbling as his bad leg gave in and he almost fell.

Turning, he saw that Sejanus was already halfway through the gate. The boy hesitated and for a moment it looked as if he would come back for him and Coriolanus felt relief flooding his body, but one of the peacekeepers grabbed him by the upper arm and dragged him behind the gate before he could.

Then the gate closed. Locking him in the arena with the tributes.

Coriolanus had no time to wrap his head around what had just happened, because he had to dodge another one of the girl‘s attacks. Soon the other two of her little murder gang would have reached him and he would stand no chance again them.

They would kill him.

He would die. In the arena. By the hands of tributes.

Alone.

The Capitol would spin a pretty story about his death like they had done when Clemensia had been in the hospital after the snake bite and no one would ever know the truth about what had happened to him.

Except Sejanus.

But his father would use their money to propitiate the Capitol and effectively silence his son and Tigris and the Grandma'am would never find out why he had never made it home.

He couldn‘t imagine a more undignified death.

So he ran. Not towards the gate, but in the opposite direction, away from his chance at freedom and into the shadows.

Coral and the others had not expected his move and it gave him a head start to make it into the tunnels and disappear.

He knew they would follow him, so he kept running, sliding down rubble, rounding a corner and hiding in a niche. Then he held his breath and waited.

If he was lucky and they didn‘t find him here, he could wait until he was certain they were away far enough and try to make it to the gate.

But Coral and her gang weren‘t the only ones he needed to worry about and he pressed himself farther against the wall when he heard a pair of footsteps approach.

It was Reaper.

Coriolanus waited for him to pass. He wouldn’t try to engage another tribute, not if he could prevent it. Better if less of them knew he was here.

Although it wasn’t like their knowledge would pose any danger to him once he was out. Only one of them would get out of here alive, the rest would take his secret to their graves and he would damn well make sure it was you.

You.

Coriolanus blinked and took a breath. You were here, somewhere.

No, he couldn‘t get to you. It was stupid to try and find you. He needed to get out of here as fast as possible, not waste precious chances to do…what?

See you? Make sure you were okay? There was nothing he could do to help you here and now and his presence only drew more attention towards you.

He thought back to the promise he had given you just last night, to do everything to keep you safe and get you out alive.

It was still true, but although he had felt helpless in his seat watching you fight and run for your life on the screen, he now missed that front row seat. He couldn‘t do anything here for you without risking his own life as well and that had never been on the table before.

And what if the day in the arena had changed you?

What if you would turn on him just like the others had? Tribute rather than friend, lover, whatever this connection between you was.

Just minutes - or had it been an hour already? - had turned him into a killer. He had killed a boy. Bobbin, he remembered his name was.

Had the arena done that to him or had that always been inside of him and it was true that the arena only awoke what was trapped inside everyone?

Shaking his head Coriolanus pushed the thoughts away. He couldn‘t allow himself to go mad. With each minute passing his chances to leave the arena alive and unharmed lowered and he could visibly imagine Dr. Gaul writing him off as she fed her snakes.

No.

He would get out of here, alive. Whatever it took.

Getting up from his crouched position Coriolanus stretched his aching limbs before crawling out of his hiding space. He didn‘t know if it was safe yet, but he couldn‘t wait longer.

He would take the leap of faith.

Every step he took echoed twice as loud through the tunnels and he had to force himself to take even breaths. He hadn‘t realised how far he had run into the tunnels and he felt his hopelessness grow when there was no sight of an exit.

When he rounded another corner he suddenly heard a noise. It was right behind him and as he spun around he could only think of what a waste his death was. What a tragedy.

“Coriolanus?!“

Your voice echoed loudly, even though you had barely more than whispered. He was frozen, his eyes locked on yours as shock faded into relief.

He wouldn‘t die. At least not now.

“What are you doing here?“ your voice rose and you took a step closer, your eyes squinted in the darkness as they searched his face.

His raked over yours and then your body as well. Your clothes were dirt stained and your face was a little bruised but apart from it you seemed unscathed.

He had believed so, but seeing it with his own eyes brought him a different kind of reassurance.

“I uhm“, he stumbled over his words, struggling to retain composure. You looked at him expectantly, your eyes wide and curious.

But Coriolanus hesitated. Could he tell you the truth? Could he still trust you?

When he swallowed and furrowed his brows you grabbed his arm. “Tell me later. We need to find a better hiding spot. I heard you a mile away and if I did, I am sure others did too.“

He nodded, glad that he didn‘t have to explain himself just yet and earn a few more minutes to think of what he could tell you.

Your hand was still wrapped around his arm as you turned and guided him through the dark and it slid downwards, reaching his hand and locking your fingers. Coriolanus wouldn‘t admit it, but the touch relieved his unease a little. It felt good to know you were here and guiding him, that he wasn’t alone anymore.

He didn‘t know if he could still trust you, but he wanted to and despite a warning voice in the back of his head a part of him did.

Only yesterday he had cupped your face and whispered promises in your ear and he refused to believe you weren‘t that girl anymore until you showed him otherwise.

You led him around a few corners until you stopped, climbing through a little opening between the rubble. He watched you disappear in the hole, crouching down to inspect it.

It was small and he was much taller than you, but then your face appeared at the other side and you waved at him with a confident smile. What good of a mentor was he if he hesitated now?

It was a struggle to get inside and he painfully hit his knees, shoulders and head a few times, but at least it would keep larger opponents outside.

And if anyone wanted to get in you would hear them and kill them before they even got the chance to raise their own weapon. It was the perfect hiding spot.

Maybe he could just wait this out, he thought. The other tributes could kill each other while he sat here with you until the rescue team would show up and get you out.

But that was too good a fantasy.

He knew that the Capitol didn‘t have any cameras in the tunnels, so no one would know he was here with you, but his absence wouldn‘t go unnoticed and he doubted they would crown you the victor, if he stayed with you.

None of the other mentors were in the position he was currently in and although Coriolanus couldn‘t find any benefit of his miserable situation he could easily imagine the capitol and his classmates arguing that it was an unfair advantage.

As if he had volunteered to be sent into an arena full of tributes that were out to kill each other, but probably unite over the idea of killing him, someone from the capitol.

And what about you then? Would you stick to his side or abandon him for your own sake?

Or worse, what if you betrayed him?

It would earn you the sympathy of the other tributes for certain, something that could be the defining factor of your survival. But would you be so calculating, so cruel and betray your own mentor?

He watched you slide down next to a wall and you hugged your knees in, probably to keep yourself warm. He wasn’t feeling cold, but he hadn‘t been in here for as long.

Looking up at him standing there you patted the space next to you, letting out a mixture between an amused and bitter laugh as you saw his hesitation. “Come one, I won‘t bite and I swear I don‘t have rabies.“

He grimaced slightly as he thought of Jessup‘s death and how he had hunted you through the arena. It hadn‘t been so long ago and yet it felt like ages considering how much had happened since then.

Deciding it wasn‘t likely that you had waited this long and brought him here only for you to try and kill him now Coriolanus closed the distance and took a seat next to you.

He stretched out his long legs, glad to finally keep the weight off of his bad leg.

“So“, you began and he noticed your gaze on him from the periphery of his vision, “you never told me why you‘re here. I‘m mean, not that I am complaining. It‘s nice to have some company, especially such lovely one, but it‘s a little…unexpected.“

He noted your hint of flirtation with a smile. It made him feel more in control and fuelled his hope that the girl he had said goodbye too wasn’t gone. “For me too“, he stated, turning his head so he could look at you.

He didn‘t know if he could trust you, but here in the arena you were his best chance of survival. And as your mentor he could help you more from the outside, so you had an interest on keeping him alive and get him out of here too.

Besides, he wanted to trust you. And he hoped you had more than your own motifs in mind when it came to his survival.

“Dr. Gaul sent me here.“ He decided to tell you the truth. “Sejanus bribed the peacekeepers to let him in here. He wanted to scatter breadcrumbs or something for Marcus. It‘s a ritual they have in his district.“

He tried to keep his voice neutral, but you knew him well enough by now to hear the hint of dismay in it.

“I think that‘s brave of him“, you said after a moment of silence and when he furrowed his brows he realised you had been testing how you would react to his words.

“But also stupid“, you continued, “I doubt the capitol is going to let anyone see it.“

He sighed. “They don’t. They froze the frame and his father will make sure he won‘t say a word about it.“

“So he got out?“ Coriolanus nodded, the image of the gate closing behind Sejanus back in his head. “He did.“

“But you didn’t.“ He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning his head against the wall. “How come they sent you? Why not just their thugs?“

“They figured he would just make a run for it, if he saw them. And then they would have a much harder job at containing him and keeping the public from knowing.“

He pressed his lips into a thin line. “And because apparently everyone thinks Sejanus and I are best friends I was the lucky one to get the job.“

When he opened his eyes yours were focused on his face and he realised how close you were sitting. “You‘re not? Friends, I mean.“

He pushed out a breath and pinched the space between his brows. “He lived here for years now, but he still acts and thinks like district.“

He practically spit out the word and you shuffled away from him a little. “I am district, Coriolanus“, you reminded him, trying to hide your hurt but failing. “You think you‘re too good to be friends with us?“

He bit his lip, frustrated at himself for his mistake. This slip-up. He hadn‘t meant it that way. You were different…

You had just been born at the wrong place.

Yeah, the more he thought about it, the more he could see it, you as a part of the capitol. With less mud and stains of course. And a class on etiquette to get the district out of your system. Tigris would make the most enchanting dresses for you and every man and woman would bow their heads when the two of you emerged. A Snow and a victor.

“I didn’t mean it-”, he began, but you shook your head, cutting him off.

“I think I know exactly what you meant.“

Silence settled between you and it felt uncomfortable and heavy.

“You think you‘re better than us. Just because you were born here and not there and you’re wearing that uniform doesn‘t mean your life‘s worth more than ours“, you stated after a while and he swallowed.

“I know.“

Did he?

“Do you?“

“I killed someone today.“

You inhaled and he saw you were staring at his face with undivided attention, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. Staring at the wall in front of him he continued. “He was just a boy. Bobbin, I think his name was?“

He dared a glance towards you for confirmation and you nodded. Your face was a carefully composed mask of guardedness and he quickly looked away again.

“I didn‘t want to hurt him, but he attacked me. I didn’t have a choice. I had to kill him.“

Coriolanus wondered how he looked to you now; his red university uniform creased and filthy, hiding in a cave and fighting the tears as he confessed his sins.

“Hey“, you reached out and gently touched his chin to turn his head to you. “You did what you had to do.“

His eyes found yours and he seeked your reassurance, clinging to it like a lifeline.

“It was horrible. But-”, he cleared his throat, preparing himself for his next revelation, “it also made me feel powerful.“

You took a sharp breath, fear and uncertainty dancing across your eyes until you won back your composure.

“We all do things in here that we‘re not proud of.“

He had feared your judgement. Had feared that you would turn your back on him now that he had exposed this dark part of him, but instead there was understanding in your eyes.

And he knew you would never betray him. You could have left but you were still here. Still with him.

“So what‘s your plan now?“

You studied his face, but you looked tired and even though his own exhaustion was wearing him down he thought about offering to stay awake and keep an eye out so you could rest.

“I need to get out of here“, he said simply, because it was the only thing he was sure of. You nodded, but he caught the hint of disappointment on your face.

He should leave now, use the last hours of the night and get out of this hellhole and back to his own, safe walls.

But he couldn‘t bring himself to get up and risk his life again. Not when he finally had a moment to relax after the last hours had been nothing but stressful and not when this could be the last time he saw you.

The last time and the first time you two had for yourselves, without cameras watching you or anyone questioning your connection.

“Yeah, that makes sense“, you agreed, but he heard the strain in your voice. You were exhausted and worn down from the constant fear, the terror and the need to keep one eye open at all times.

“But…that can wait a little.“

You furrowed your brows. “Are you sure? Aren‘t they going to be suspicious, if you don‘t get back soon?“

He shrugged. “I am just going to tell them the truth. That I got attacked and had to hide.“

“And you won‘t get in trouble?“

He was almost touched by your concern, but decided to conceal it with amusement. When you noticed his look you rolled your eyes. “I was just checking, because I need my mentor to get me out of here alive. I can‘t have him rot in chains somewhere.“

“Right”, he nodded with a smile, but quickly grew serious again. “They are the ones who got me here in the first place so I doubt they get to have a say in how or when I make it out.“

“Thank you.“ Your voice was barely above a whisper and he drew you close, his hand gently moving up and down your arm.

Coriolanus couldn‘t do much for you. But he could stay now, pull your body close to his to provide you with warmth and stop your shivers and let you rest.

Even if it was just for a night, he would be there for you.

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[strawburry01]

We'll Meet Again

Ford Pines x Fem! Reader

Summary: Just a lot of mushy gushy stuff

Word Count 1.5 k

Part 1

Part 2

Part 2.5

Part 3

It was the middle of your game. You had just bet 600 trunkels on red when suddenly you started feeling light headed. If you were about to faint right now you’d never forgive yourself.

“Feeling okay, bold one?” the dealer hissed in its native language.

“Keep rolling,” you snapped back, trying to bury the dizzy feeling deep within you. You’d been doing good in this dimension and somehow had become a bit of a pseudo-millionaire, but nothing filled the gnawing void in your heart, so many times you’d end up betting more and more outrageous wagers just to try and feel something from losing it all. But you never lost it all. Something about this damn dimension meant your luck was infallible. 

It only irritated you more.

Your knees buckled and you nearly collapsed onto the ground before you grabbed the edge of the counter and swore under your breath. Something was happening to you, why was your body just giving out like this? You could see the dealer saying something to you but it felt like all you could hear was the grating buzz of static. You saw it reach out a tentacle for you but all you could do was go limp.

You watched the world around you rise, but you never hit the floor. You melted right through it all. You kept seeing it shrink into oblivion until it was just a small pinprick of light in the darkness. 

In the past whenever you had switched dimensions you were in control. And it wasn’t this unpleasant a process. Had you accidentally touched a button on your portal ray? Had you somehow triggered this jump? You couldn’t theorize for too long until you felt your body go through another nauseating flux. Ragdolling through space you were flung back until you unexpectedly slammed your back against a hard surface, concussing your head in the process of it all. 

For a second everything was a bright white light and through gritted teeth you forced your eyes open, trying to shield them with your hands so you could assess where the hell you were. Head splitting from pain, the room was a wreck. But you’d recognize it anywhere. 

“Oh my god who is that?!” a young voice shouted nearby.

“Holy sh-” was all you could hear in response before your eyes rolled back in pain and your subconscious took over. 

You dreamed the same scene you often did. Over the 30 years, if you’d been keeping track correctly, you still had it at least once a month or so. It was you sitting on the dock of the lake. The lake in Gravity Falls. The pine filled wonderland in the pacific northwest. It was in a perpetual sunset, the sky a faint mix of orange and pink smears. You could always hear someone walking up the dock behind you, but you never were able to see who it was. Except this time. You looked over your shoulder and saw Ford. The version you’d met in college. The young, awkward, nerdy, unsure version of him. Hell he looked as confused as you felt. 

“What am I doing here?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” you responded, looking back at the water. He continued, and took a seat beside you.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I think so?” You answered back, not knowing, “this is farther than I usually get in these dreams,”. 

“Hm,” he hummed, accepting it. 

“Do you recognize me?” you asked. You felt his eyes on you.

“I’ll always recognize you dear,”.

Your eyes lurched open. Fuck that was weird. You were in your room. Your room back in the cabin. A wave of nausea swept over you again at recognizing the room. 30 fucking years hurtling through endless dimensions. It felt naive to trust your eyes. With a grunt, you pushed onto your elbows to look around. It seemed to be mid-day outside. Someone had thrown a blanket on you and left a glass of water on the floor. Still wary, you took a sip. It didn’t kill you.

There was a squeal from the doorway and your head snapped in that direction. There was a girl in a pink sweater giddily jumping and covering her mouth, but continuing to squeal.

“You’re awake!” she shouted, “Gruncle Stan! She’s awake!”. You rubbed your temples as you tried to formulate words.

“Wh-Who are you?” you mumbled out. Suddenly she was right beside the bed staring up at you with the biggest eyes you’d ever seen.

“I’m Mabel Pines! I’m your niece!” she said happily before scrunching her face to think, “I think…”

Niece? Before you could question it any further, there was someone in the doorway. He was in a disheveled suit with a red fez precariously perched on his head. When the two of you locked eyes the air seemed to freeze. 

“Stanley?” you croaked out. It was Ford, but it wasn’t all at the same time. Was this his estranged twin brother?

“Oh come on, did everyone know that except for Dipper and I?” Mabel whined as Stan laughed and turned her out of the room.

“There’s a lot of things you and Dipper don’t know, kid. Now give us some space,” he said, as she sighed and walked out of the room. Stan awkwardly shifted in place besides you and finally coughed to break the silence.

“How’re you doing?” he asked, “the portal shot you out across the room like a damn cannon,”. You rubbed the back of your head. Just a headache, but nothing worse it seemed.

“Just sore I think. I’m still not sure what all happened honestly,” you said. 

“Yeah that’s for sure. You were out for almost a whole day. Really got Ford riled up like you wouldn’t believe,” Stan said with a small smile to himself.

“Ford’s here?” you whispered, not being able to believe what he’d just told you. 

“Unfortunately. Didn’t even thank me or nothing for bringing him back. And hell- bringing his wife back too for fucks sake,” he swore. You tried to move out of the bed but your ribs and back protested. You weren’t as young as you used to be and that was becoming painfully obvious.

“Where’s Ford? I need to see Ford,” you mumbled as you pushed yourself out of the bed. Stan tried to help you, but also didn’t want to offend you by offering help. 

“Slow down y’animal. He’s in the kitchen,” he said, “I can get him-”

“No, I need to see him now,” you grunted as you inhaled sharply and stood up a little straighter.

Keeping a hand on the wall you walked through the house you and he had built. It was the same, but also time had done its work on the walls and carpets. You could hear someone gently clanging around pans in the kitchen. Anxiety crept into your head. It’d been 30 years since you’d gotten zapped into the hellish dimension-scape. You knew Ford had been there too. Being humans, you both stuck out like sore thumbs, but most frustratingly you never ran into each other. Statistically, it made sense. Across millions of unique dimensions and planets, it was unlikely. You hated statistics. 

You heard a gentle swear around the corner and the clatter of a spatula. It was Ford. 30 years across endless dimensions and planes of existence and you couldn’t turn the damn corner to see him. Your husband. It was stupid to tear up over it but you could feel the pricks at the corner of your eyes. You took a sharp inhale and turned.

“Ford I-” you began, but didn’t get the chance to finish before he pulled you into an embrace. 

Both of you were crying now at least. He continued to apologize under his breath as he ran his hand along the back of your head. You just pressed further into his red sweater trying to save every second in case you woke up and it was all a dream. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, we’re here now,” you hiccuped through the tears as you looked up at him. His once brown hair had turned silver over the years and his face had evidence of all the years and adventures he’d gone through. 

“I never thought I’d see you again,” he said, cupping your face and looking into your eyes.

“You’d like that,” you tried to joke but you only broke down crying again as you wrapped your arms around him again. You could feel his chest as he gently laughed.

“I like the tattoo,” he chuckled into your hair. 

You felt your face go red. In an alcohol-addled stupor you’d been convinced to get a small face tattoo under your eye. It was a small black broken heart, that you really had always meant to get lasered off. “Hey I have some too now,” he added with a small kiss on your forehead.

“My scientist? Tattoos? Never!” you smiled as you quickly kissed him on the lips. 

This was it. This was all you hoped for over the past 30 years.

The two of you stood side by side as Ford remembered his cooking. He kept his arm firmly wrapped around your waist, as you laid a hand on his chest and listened to him starting to ramble about everything you’d been out for. The portal, Bill, the house, Stanley, the kids, no- your niece and nephew. 

“Our Graunt is so badass,” Mabel whispered to her brother as she quickly peeked around the corner.

AN: Thanks all! Let me know if you want a little Weirdmagedon action bit because this feels like it's too sweet to end on personally- BUT I got one last tasty treat in the drafts right now :)

Taglist wooooo:

@valinbean

@sunniskyies

@fries11

@fluffymarshmalllows

[ghostsforghosts]

NOTE: This Reader is male!!

TW/CW: Death (minor death, but death nonetheless)

Imagining your city being overtaken by enemy soldiers and you were running away from a group of soldiers who are eyeing you because you're a fit man and thus a threat to them. It doesn't matter that you're not someone who likes to be violent, you were still considered a threat to them.

And so here you were, your lungs pumping over time to compensate for how fast you are running. Your eyes were scanning the nearby areas for any place to hide, somewhere where you can be safe.

That's when you saw it: the very old temple of a god you can't remember the name of because your people stopped worshipping him a long time ago.

Before the siege, your people were debating tearing down the temple and building a new store because the temple stuck out like a sore thumb among the more modern buildings. It was still intact, even after years of being neglected, it kept standing tall and it seemed intimidating to anyone glancing at it. That's part of why people wanted it to be torn down, because it was not helping getting merchants and traders to come to your city, since they thought it meant your people were still stuck in the past and didn't have anything of value to trade.

But perhaps your pursuers are men of honor, or at least somewhat men of honor. Maybe the temple would make them pause, make them wary to step inside something that was once a sanctuary.

So, you didn't hesitate to turn slightly, running up the steps that used to be white but were now brown from years of oxidation. You threw open the doors that surprisingly seemed more intact than they should be, running inside the temple.

The temple used to be gorgeous, you thought as you looked around, having enough time to catch your breath.

Inside the temple was a large altar in the middle, unused and dusty but still decorated with a cloth that had beautiful designs of lightning bolts along the white cloth. There were breathtaking statutes, yellowed over the years but still held the beauty of the god they were sculpted after. There was a deep temple tank to the left, empty but had once been filled with water that came from a spout sculpted as the mouth of a statute of a satyr.

Your awe of the temple was interrupted by hearing the heavy boots of the soldiers who had been chasing after you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked around for where you could hide before they could see you.

Unfortunately, you were too slow and heard the soldiers laugh as they found you in the temple. You were frozen, your eyes stuck on the soldiers who were approaching the temple.

"Look, the boy thinks he can hide in a temple of a forgotten god," the leader of the soldiers said, demeaning you despite both of you being the same age. "Hoping the old god will save you? If he's even still alive, that is."

The soldiers were laughing at your predicament, their swords unsheathed as they continued to advance. This—your livelihood—was just a game to them.

You were just about to shift into a defensive stance, preparing to have to defend yourself, when you felt the ghost of a hand resting on the back of your neck. The surprisingly warm touch made you still, the temple suddenly filling with immense power you had no clue where it came from.

The soldiers were oblivious to the shift in the air, the leader of the soldier about to step onto the first step of the temple before he and his group got blown back by a gush of wind that had flown past you, just barely making you stumble. The soldiers, however, had been thrown backwards until they were at a considerable distance away from the temple.

The leader snarled in displeasure, clearly thinking you had been the one to show that display of power. "Fucking witch, this city is full of witches," he growled, now pissed.

He didn't take the warning that had was clearly the gust of wind, instead, he stalked towards the temple again. "I'll kill you, boy. And I'll kill you slowly too."

He was advancing towards the temple again when a roar of thunder shook the earth.

It was a warning, you thought, before you saw the leader get struck and charred with lightning when he didn't heed the warning thunder.

You jumped back in surprise, the leader having not been able to even scream in pain before dropping dead to the ground. Another roar of thunder shook the earth and the other soldiers took the warning, cursing before scrambling to run away.

"Thank you," you said, not knowing where to look, so you ended up looking up at a statute of the god.

A rumble of approval at your gratitude gently shook the temple as the god finally spoke up. "You're welcome. It was my honor to help a citizen of this city again," he replied, his voice gruff. "It has been so many decades since I've had someone in my temple, even if it's for sanctuary."

Your attention got taken away by hearing sounds of your people successfully running the rest of the soldiers out of the city and taking back the city. Your heart swelled at that, happy the danger was over.

You turned back to the statute and asked, "What kind of god are you? And what's your name?"

"I'm the God of the Sky. I used to be a king of my pantheon, but my family has all faded," the god said, his voice becoming sad at the end of his sentence. He then cleared his voice to continue. "As for my name, well, your people have taken to such easier names that my true name would be too difficult for you to pronounce."

"Still, I need something to call you, my lord." You moved towards the altar, putting your hands into your pocket.

"John. Call me John. I believe that name is common in your region."

You hummed in response to that, pulling out a wooden carving of a handsome angel that you had done a while ago. "I don't have much to give you right now, but I hope this offering of a wood carving will be enough for now, Lord John." You placed the carving on the altar, feeling the pulse of power from the offering being added to the overall power in the temple.

"A little goes along way," John said, feeling very pleased at the offering. "Thank you."

"{Name}!"

Your sister calling out to you, her footsteps running through the streets of the ravaged city, brought you back to the reality of the situation. You couldn't stay, your family would worry and they needed your help to rebuild whatever was damaged in the siege.

"I'll be back soon, maybe tomorrow if everything goes well," you said, turning to leave. "I won't forget you, Lord John. I promise."

You ran down the steps, rushing to where your sister was. There had been determination in your last words to the god, like you were intent on keeping your promise and not forgetting a god that had already been forgotten.

"Run home, {Name}," John murmured, mostly to himself. "I have a feeling you're a man of his word and will be back. I look forward to it."

Banners made by @/cafekitsune and separator made by @/dollywons

Finally got to writing God!Price, after a long time of saying I'd get to him. This is just the start of a new series!

[sanjisboyfie]

yandere zoro headcanons

male reader of course <3 also this is actually a very soft yandere zoro, nothing super duper hardcore...i think

yandere ! zoro . . . just expects you to know that he likes you. it's so annoying. he does the bare minimum and genuinely thinks that's enough for you to know. he's held the door open for you one time and equated that to a love confession. because he's not gonna ever blatantly confess to you, so he does these other minuscule things to get your attention and make it "known" that he likes you.

yandere ! zoro . . . will be at your beck and call. he will do whatever you ask of him. he'll act like its annoying, but he is more than happy to do whatever you ask him. it's undeniably a really sweet gesture that he does, but sometimes he gets really pushy and aggressive with it. the reason why is because he wants you to completely rely on him, even for your own basic needs. he wants to be doing everything for you for the power-trip and control it gives him.

"give it to me," zoro gruffly said, taking the bags from your arms. you were more than capable in carrying the groceries, but zoro took them off your hands. he knew you could handle them, but he felt the need to aid you.

"i am more than capabl-"

"shut up, i'm doing you a favor," zoro rejected your want to carry the bags, shaking his head.

"fine, thanks, zoro." a flash of your gentle smile was enough to send him into a flustered, crimson red blushing state.

yandere ! zoro . . . kind of going hand in hand with ^ that one, zoro would easily kill for you. the amount of dead bodies you'd be responsible for would be uncountable. every single man or woman thats hit on you has - unknowing to you - have been murdered by zoro. he doesn't take people trying to take you away from him lightly. to him its serious enough he needs to take their life. and he has and he will continue to.

yandere ! zoro . . . is very pushy on affections. it may sound out of character, but zoro never thought he'd get lucky enough to find someone like you. so now he's found you, he's gonna be selfish about, as far as he can go.

zoro had a nasty habit of physically taking you away from conversations. it would be out of nowhere - when you're just playing games with chopper and then you're suddenly being thrown over zoro's shoulder. you could try fighting against him all you want, but he easily overpowers you.

and when you're finally dropped onto the crow's nests floor, you berate him, "what's your issue?! chopper and i were talking you know!"

"i know," zoro says, not bothered one bit by your shouting.

"so?" you say expectingly, not enjoying how nonchalant he was being about the whole situation.

"if you're my boyfriend, don't i have the right to spend time with you?"

"i can still have friends though,"

zoro yawned, taking you into his lap and trapping you in hie arms, "come on, let's just sleep. we don't have to keep talking about stupid shit like this,"

"you can't just-"

a hand on the back of your head made you crash into his chest and effectively shut you up, his chest silencing you as you were smothered (suffocated) in it.

yandere ! zoro . . . has two sides of his personality - one he uses with you, and only with you, and then the side he shows everyone else. he never speaks as softly as he does with you as he does with other people. he's hyper aware that he looks intimidating to others, but he goes out of his way to be softer with you. it's sweet, honestly, but it's terrifying to see it happen in real time.

zoro had an arm drapped around your shoulder, simply following in whatever direction you took him to. whenever he saw something that he'd think you'd like, he pointed it out to you with a hidden smile.

"wait, look, do you like it?" zoro gently asked, picking up the ring and examining it in the natural light, "i can get it for you, if you want?"

"but it's pretty expensive-"

"don't worry about it, i can afford it," zoro shrugged, enjoying the way your eyes brightened. if only he could keep that for himself completely, hide you away from the rest of the world.

the two of them walked up to the vendor. zoro's soft smile was wiped away in an instant, looking gruff and annoyed at the man, "this one."

"what a lovely ring, you two are-"

"could you just hurry up? our crew might leave without us," zoro lied, already so annoyed with the innocent man who was just doing his job. you slapped him on the chest, shooting him a look.

seeing the disappointed expression on your face, he faltered in his glare a little bit. and an embarassed blush came onto his face, looking to the side and forcing himself to not glare at the vendor.

the man looked grateful for your intervention, quickly taking the exchange of beri and handing you the ring. a quick thank you left your lips before you walked out of there, zoro in tow.

"you're such an asshole," you murmured in annoyance, shrugging off his arm from your shoulder.

"babe, c'mon, don't-" but he shut up immediately when he saw the look you shot him, a warning look. it worked and he kept quiet the rest of the walk to sunny.

he practically grovelled for forgiveness the rest of the night, only gaining it back when he gently put the ring around your finger and peppered kisses on your face.

yandere ! zoro . . . is really only nice and doting to you - he doesn't give a shit about anyone else but you and makes it known. it earns him a scolding but he needs you to know that everyone that isn't you doesn't even cross his mind. you're the only person he thinks about and will continue to think about - everyone else isn't even worthy of being as important as you are in his head. you are the only thing he cares about, he devotes his entire strength in making it known he is at your disposal.

[possessiveandobsessive]

Another Lucanis Obsessed Post

It's only a problem if we call it that...

**Spoilers for late game events in Dragon Age: The Veilguard. If you havent finished and care about being spoiled, stay away!**

Something I think about a lot is Lucanis's reaction to Rook being pulled into the fade after they kill Ghilan'nain. This kind of scene is definitely making it into my current work, but I need to get it out of my brain.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Lucanis is riding a magnificent high for all of a minute. He just killed one of his two targets. A GOD. Finally, he completed the contract that slipped through his fingers so narrowly last time. He has this blissful, thrill of adrenaline singing through his veins. And then, it's all gone in an instant.

The hot blood that had been rushing through his limbs following his vistory turns to ice at once when he realizes: she is gone. The woman who had believed in him from the start. The one person who never once had looked at him with disgust or fear. The woman who had only just broken through the last of his walls and now held his heart. Lucanis can see her smile, can see her head thrown back in laughter at some silly comment he made. And then he watches as all that fades out of his view. She was GONE, and she took his heart, his soul with her. He never got the chance to tell her...

Lucanis can faintly hear a raw, primal, and broken wail. It sounds distant at first, before he realizes it's coming from him. The agonized scream tears from his chest violently without him even realizing. An enraged chant fills his mind and blinds him to his surroundings. His vision fills with only a blinding purple light and all he can hear, all he can think is, "GONE. TAKEN. GONE. LOST. OURS. OUR ROOK IS GONE. MUST GET HER, MUST SAVE HER, MUST HAVE HIS BLOOD. GONE. GONE...."

The chanting, screaming really, continues over and over. Each word caused pain anew to cut through him like a blade. He had already lost everything, become a monster, and now he was losing the one thing that kept him tethered to this reality. She was the one thing that made him feel human. Rook trusted him even when he couldn't yet trust himself. And the elven god of lies and betrayal had just stolen her from him.

Lucanis was dimly aware of shouts directed at him and hands pulling at his arms and shoulders. The team must be trying to stop him from completely destroying, leveling, everything in his immediate vicinity. All he knew now was this pain fueled rampage. Their pain fueled rampage. Spite and he are currently of one mind. They always are when it comes to Rook.

Suddenly, he feels a wave of magic wash over his body. Lucanis shudders as his bones seem to turn to liquid and his body begins to feel as of it weighed thousands of pounds. His eyes were closing against his will, and he could hear Spite's screams grow more desperate as they both were pulled under into a deep nothing. The last conscious thought Lucanis had was of her face, terrified and screaming his name as she disappeared in a flash of light.

I will find you Rook, NOTHING CAN KEEP YOU FROM US....

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You're welcome for the devastation! If it lives in my head rent free then it also gets to live in yours 🥲 Look forward to a more fleshed out version of this scene later in my current work in process: The Spirit of Determination.

[angelfoxx]

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° “…US?”

…in which their feelings for you become apparent.

FEATURING: simon “ghost” riley, john “soap” mactavish, & keegan p russ I AM SALIVATING

WARNINGS: suggestive, but nothing nsfw. yet 😇 also so sorry i write k**gan’s name and i just get fucked up. i just can’t behave myself. so i lose my mind a little in his section eek

NOTES: excuse my rather small starting lineup; i’m still new to the game and all of its lore and i’d rather get to know the characters first rather than make horrible headcanons based off of their fanon interpretations. you know, like making a six foot ten war criminal dresses in a fucking executioner’s hood a little uwu baby

— SIMON “GHOST” RILEY.

✧ Everything I see on TikTok regarding this guy makes him seem like a fucking demon in the sheets. I really don’t get that vibe. Especially not at the start of a relationship.

✧ The first time you meet, he thinks you’re attractive. And then he pushes that thought aside, because he’s a soldier. He’s actively at work doing a high-risk, high-stress job. You’re attractive, yes, but he’s not going to pursue you. This is not the right time for that.

✧ Things develop after…like, a long ass time. And it’s not sexual in the start. It’s, like…you’re cleaning your gun down after a mission, and you get a clean rag thrown into your lap. You look up into those hollow soulless fucking eyes and Ghost just shrugs, not meeting your gaze but instead just vaguely gesturing at your gun. “Your rag’s dirty. You’re rubbin’ dirt int’a the thing.”

✧ It’s small things like that. Things that are helpful but always laced with a comment that could be considered sort of rude or abrasive. He doesn’t notice; he only realizes that he’s coming off as rude and probably pushing you away after he makes a comment on your form being lazy and Price, sort of quietly laughing, asks why he’s so insistent on snarking on you. He replies that mistakes like yours could get you hurt. Which, they could. But so could everyone else’s, and he doesn’t make comments about them. So…?

✧ Phase two of him trying to…hit on you? Exist with you? Who fucking knows. Anyways, he just stops talking. He’ll still throw you clean rags, but he won’t make a comment about how using a dirty rag is ruining your gun. He’ll still make a point out of sweeping fallen food and shit off of your spot at the table after you eat, but he doesn’t grumble and scoff at you not to waste anymore. He resorts to silent acts of service to the point where it gets annoying. He’s always quiet, but now he’s unnervingly quiet and honestly, is it still him if he doesn’t catch you for random things every now and then?

✧ The silent stage can go on forever, so a catalyst really saves you. The catalyst comes when a new recruit gets a little too aggressive; a small argument about your ability on the field turns into a minor brawl. Aforementioned brawl immediately ends when the recruit dares to put their hands on you and shove you and Ghost, like some six-foot-one demon cast from the pits of hell, appears behind you and gets very up close and personal with them. Asking what the hell they think they’re doing, asking if they think that’s a good way to have a team on the field, et cetera, et cetera. Basically, he makes the recruit feel like absolute shit. Oh, and he doesn’t look at you the entire time.

✧ So, obviously, now you have a weird situation at hand. You’re getting ready to go to sleep and everyone’s sort of looking at you funny, because there’s no reason for a fucking lieutenant to jump in and break up an argument like that—pulling people apart, sure, but not so suddenly and not so aggressively. The recruit hasn’t spoken to you. Ghost hasn’t spoken to you. So, anyways, you pay him a visit.

✧ You go down to say thanks, and for some fucking reason, the guy can’t take a compliment. Or gratitude. He says you were slower than the other recruit, that it’ll get you killed on the field, et cetera. He can’t just shut up and take the thanks.

“I’m telling you, I…I came down here to thank you, of all things. Can you cut the criticism one time and accept it?”

Ghost stiffens. It’s not a thousand-yard stare anymore. It’s just a wide, pissed-off glare. For a long minute, he’s silent. And then…

“Welcome.” His voice is grumpish. “Happy?”

“Sure.” You manage a little smile. It’s sort of funny; he can’t just take your thank you and drop it. “It’s improvement.”

Ghost nods once, albeit stiffly. “Okay.”

“…so, you gonna tell me why you did it?” You ask it as a joke. You aren’t dumb. You know he wants you gone. You’re expecting a harsh “get out” or something of the like. You aren’t expecting an answer.

“Disrespect makes ignorance. Ignorance makes casualties.” Oh. An actual real, reasonable answer. Surprising. Ghost himself seems a little surprised; he blinks owlishly again, and he doesn’t say anything else. He’s just a big guy standing in a little room with a skull mask on.

“Oh.” You swallow. “That’s…rational.”

“Were you expecting irrational?”

“No. I wasn’t expecting anything.” You scoff. “You’re not exactly chatty.”

“I don’t waste words.” Ghost’s eyes narrow. “I’m not dumb.”

“I didn’t call you dumb.” You shrug. “I’m just surprised you gave me an answer that wasn’t bitching at me.”

“I don’t bitch.”

“You do.”

“I’m not a sixteen-year-old schoolgirl, recruit. I don’t bitch.”

“Even Price thinks you bitch. At me, at least. All the time.”

✧ Price thinks he bitches at you? And he’d told you? Oh, no, no. Externally, Ghost is stiff and stoic. Internally, Ghost is shitting bricks. Price had told you that? Straight-up told you that? Oh, no. You and Price talk and he comes up in conversation? Oh, no, no, no.

✧ He addresses this with Price, obviously. Storms in all puffed-out and pissy and asks what the hell he’s doing gossiping about his soldiers and Price just sort of laughs him off, asking what he’s talking about and then why he’s so upset that he’s bringing up one of his best men to one of the recruits.

✧ Oh.

✧ Ghost swears up and down it’s not like that. He swears and he bangs the side of his hand on the table and he curses on his own heart that it’s not like that but the whole time Price is laughing because in all of the years that he’s known Simon, not once has Simon broken through Ghost. But now, he has. The stumbling over words, the defensive aggression, the way he’s pacing so furiously—oh, Simon Riley is melting down inside that big mask and it’s equal parts heartbreaking and hilarious.

✧ Cue Price becoming a wingman. Ghost swears he’ll kill him every time he puts you two together to spar or puts you two on cleanup duty or god fucking forbid you’re in the doghouse doing some foul task and Ghost has to watch you. God fucking damn the captain, because he knows Ghost will grumble and complain but with you, he’ll eventually stop that in favor of helping you. And it’s sort of heartwarming for him to do his nightly rounds and it’s all quiet but there’s voices coming out of the kitchen and he can hear Ghost in that gruff, grumbly tone telling you how to mop and you snidely telling him that if you can’t do it right, then maybe he should do it instead. And he objects, of course, and then within ten minutes Price watches Ghost’s shadow come up to yours and he hears the mop change hands.

✧ It takes you a long time to realize that you’re really being assigned to Ghost’s side for every fucking thing you do. It takes you an even longer time to realize that Price tends to pass by you two on occasion, and every time he does, he’s smiling. And it takes you a ridiculously long time to realize that Ghost isn’t always radiating heat; whenever he takes the mop from you or takes the gun you’re cleaning from you, whenever he finishes off a task that you’ve started, it’s not that he’s always that hot. It’s that, under that mask, he’s flushed.

✧ It takes you a very, very long time to realize that the legendary Ghost has taken an actual liking to you.

— JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH.

✧ Thank fucking god this guy is next. Slow burn ass Ghost makes me want to rip my eyes out. Just have passionate angry sex and talk about your feelings after. Christ.

✧ It’s not exactly a secret that the minute you arrived on base, you gained an admirer.

✧ Soap isn’t someone who rarely gets hooked on someone else. The guy’s a walking heart eyes emoji. The difference with you was that it wasn’t the kind of attraction that had him sweet-talking you over drinks that night.

✧ This was different. Rather than chase, Soap wanted to impress — and, well, he tried. He tried his fucking hardest. He tried so hard the other higher-ups noticed. How embarrassing.

✧ Every time you’re in the room, he somehow gets even chattier. His voice drops. If he’s working out, he starts loading weights onto the bar he’s using to an almost comical degree. He loses his fucking mind. It’s like he short circuits. Which is ridiculous, because he’s a fucking soldier. What the fuck is he doing trying to lift five hundred pounds on a Tuesday morning? Why is he freaking the fuck out?

✧ The thing is, right, is you’re not exactly hovering over the guy. You have your own agenda to adhere to and also, it would be really weird if you just started laying praises on him, so you go about your day as regular and poor Soap is left heartbroken and also achy-armed because you literally could not care less that he’s lifting double, triple his body weight.

✧ Literally every higher-up notices. They make jokes about it and he borders on threatening friendly fire. It’s just a little crush. That’s all it is. Yeah. And so when you’re all doing team sparring and you keep winning, he’s just watching you like a lovesick puppy because it’s just a little crush. That’s all.

✧ Price can’t have his soldiers slacking off. Of course not. He can’t have them getting lazy — so he orders Soap to go up against you. Because, you know, he seems out of it and you’re the best of the recruits, so you’ll go against someone better. Yeah. That’s why he calls him out.

✧ God bless the poor guy. He panics for like three seconds and then makes a very thickly-accented taunt about how it’s unfair to you to go up against him. You, of course, in the spirit of good fun, reply to his taunt and tell him to prove it.

✧ He goes into the circle with you. He goes into the circle with you and he fucking falls apart.

You’ve quickly learned that talking is Soap’s weakness. If his mouth is moving, his feet fall behind.

“Get enough sleep last night, MacTavish?” You dodge a flying fist. “You look a little sleepy.”

“Got plenty.” A wry grin crosses his face. “Don’t worry about my beauty sleep.”

“I have reason to. You need it.” You wrinkle your nose. “Bad.”

Soap’s jaw drops slightly, and — there! — he hesitates. Probably out of surprise, but it’s enough. Deftly, you lunge in at his knees, swipe them out, and…hm. Simple. Almost too easy, actually, to pin him.

Soap’s heart is pounding under your hand. His chest is flat against the ground, but you can feel it through his back, which is wild in and of itself. He grunts when his cheek hits the ground; he mumbles something akin to “bloody hell”, but you can’t quite make out the words.

Grinning, you sit back and kick your heel up against his neck, keeping his head pinned down. The cheering you receive mostly comes from recruits who are impressed with your skill.

The minority is higher-ups, exchanging amused glances. They seem awfully humored with the sight of one of their own being pinned so easily by a new recruit. Hmm…

✧ From that point on, Soap somehow manages to watch more of your sparring sessions. He usually just watches, rather than critique; if you ask, he’ll just say you certainly seem to be doing fine. If you ask for help, though, he’ll help you. Christ, he’ll help you. He’ll genuinely spend time assisting you on whatever is troubling you.

✧ Eventually, after a long training day, you decide to ask Soap to join you in the ring. You genuinely just want to see how you stack up to a “better” opponent; you’ve apparently pushed beating him to the side. Or you just want to do it again. He doesn’t think of that, though.

✧ He’ll come in (after teasing you just a bit) and he will spar with you, just giving you advice and pointers mid-action. He’s whipped, but he’s also still a trained soldier. He knows what he’s doing, and once he gets through the brain fog you seem to weigh down onto him, he is genuinely helpful.

✧ Still, after you’re both hot and panting and finished and resting on the sidelines, you have to ask him why he helps you so much. You have to ask if it’s because he thinks you’re lacking, or bad, or if it’s some sort of personal vendetta for that one time in front of the recruits and the higher-ups.

✧ Soap just laughs and, rather awkwardly, rubs at his neck. He avoids eye contact, and he bites his lip, and he tilts his head around before he dares answer you, tone sheepish. “Consider it a, ah, personal interest.”

— KEEGAN P RUSS.

✧ SHITS MYSELF VIOLENTLY. SO SORRY

✧ i love this fucking man so very much and i don’t know jack shit abt him because i need to play ghosts and get the first hand experience like I don’t want to spoil his character but I URRRGHHGGGGG

✧ imma try to do him justice but sorry if im missing on important lore

✧ He’s not as uptight as Ghost, but he’s not as whipped as Soap. He’s somewhere in the middle; he’s aware that you’re attractive but he does push it aside. He’s working. You’re working. He doesn’t have time for that, and it’s also a safety concern. He remembers what they did to Ajax, and god fucking forbid they try to pull that shit with anyone else to use as bait.

✧ When he’s at base, he’s busy. He’s devoted to his work and he doesn’t cut corners to chit-chat. The most social he’ll really get is at dinner; he’s the kind of person who will eat with the group, but rather than talk, he’ll really just listen. he’s me fr fr

✧ Getting to know Keegan is sort of awkward because he’s just not super outgoing. He’s attractive (if your radio is on and you don’t buckle at the knees the first time you hear his sexy deep pantywetting voice over the thing, are you even real?) and he’s got the whole mysterious quiet guy thing down, and yet when you approach him to try and strike up a conversation with a simple question (“So how was your day?”) he’s prone to just looking at you and raising a brow and answering sort of flatly. (“Same as every other one. What, did something happen?”)

✧ Most of your bonding actually occurs when it’s just the two of you. You’ve bumped into him late at night before — sometimes he’s at the range shooting targets and fiddling with a variety of weapons, or sometimes he’s in the kitchen scouring the shelves, or sometimes he’s in the gym working out when nobody is there to bother him and ogle his fine ass fucking body holy shit his thighs. He’s a little easier to talk to at night, actually. Maybe it’s the lack of a crowd, but the first time you stumble into him making himself a pot of fucking tea at damn near midnight, he actually seems friendly.

“What are you making?” For a moment, you panic, thinking that you might’ve just scared the shit out of poor Keegan by speaking so suddenly and from behind where he’s standing beside the sink, a little humming kettle in front of him. His shoulders god his fuckinf shoulders i want to lick them don’t so much as twitch, though — and then you remember the guy’s entire job is stealth and observation. Hell, he probably heard you across camp.

“Tea.” Yeah, he couldn’t sound less concerned. His voice is as low and gravelly as usual; he sounds a little more relaxed, actually, not so brash and shout-y. “Chamomile.”

“Sergeant Russ drinks chamomile tea?” You laugh a little, sort of tentatively. You two aren’t strangers, but you’ve only had a few conversations…if you can call brief exchanges conversations, of course.

“…yeah?” Keegan actually sounds confused; it’s dark in the kitchen, but you can make out the outline of his head turning over his shoulder. “What, you got a problem with that?”

“No. No, sir. No problem.” You shrug. “I just didn’t peg you to be the chamomile tea type.”

“Didn’t you?” The short scoffish bark Keegan lets out is a brief laugh. “What did you peg me for?”

“Dunno. Black, I guess.”

“Are you calling me boring?”

“No.”

Keegan hums in response to that. He busies himself with pouring his tea and thank fucking god your eyes have adjusted to the dim light in here because god, his fucking hip to waist ratio under that gear is something wicked and you let your conversation slip. You’re in here for a snack, but you don’t want to bother—

“You come in here for somethin’ other than staring?” Oh. Good. This is the Keegan you’d expected after hearing him sass half of his team on comms. You can hear the edge of a grin in his voice; there’s a shuffle as he turns around and then a wooden groan as he leans against the counter. A short second later, you hear the almost exaggerated slurp of tea.

“Crackers. I’m hungry.”

A wooden scrubbing sound. He’s moved over, presumably to let you open the cabinet housing boxes of sort of dry, not particularly good crackers. He doesn’t say a word; he just keeps drinking his tea and pretends to ignore you as you make your way over, crouching down to fumble for a bag of crackers. Pretend, because you can feel that he’s watching you. His presence on the field is invisible; his gaze in the kitchen is not. Still, he doesn’t bother you; he lets you get your crackers and retire to the edge of the counter across from him to snack, and he doesn’t say a word.

“Are you always so quiet?” You gesture vaguely at the slight shape of him. “Is it just part of the job?”

Keegan laughs, more to himself than in response to you. “Sure.”

✧ He is, generally, pretty quiet. His usual demeanor is laid-back and observant; if he’s not under stress, though, and you start talking to him, he’ll respond almost always with something mildly sarcastic. You come to learn that he isn’t actually boring. He’s got a quick sense of occasionally-dark humor. Sometimes he laughs at his own jokes—usually after he’s started to walk away from you. He’s fiercely protective of the Ghosts and any recruits training near or with them. He also doesn’t seem to mind you.

✧ You’d hesitate to say you two were friends — it always seemed like there was something in between you, though you couldn’t name what — but you were friendly, and it was nice.

✧ During group dinners, he’d stand against the wall behind you. Or across from you, though usually doing that meant that he’d make a game out of trying to get you to squirm under his constant staring. He’d run into you late-night in the kitchen and make casual, not uncomfortable, small talk. Hell, at one point he offered you a drink post-training and made a sort of point to always offer you one whenever you had returned to base and were lingering around in the later hours.

✧ After a particularly long day, you find him in the kitchen, just drinking straight from the bottle. He offers you the thing — he seems more than a little tipsy, but when you decline (he’s been drinking directly from it, and…the fuck does army hygiene look like?) he sort of half-laughs and says, sarcastically, “What d’you look so horrified for? Too good to share a bottle, princess?” and then he immediately excused himself afterward.

✧ You know that saying, “drunk words are sober thoughts”? Yeah. Yeah.

✧ i need the fatty part of keegans thigh in my mouth right now i need to bite it i need to bite it and go rrrrrahrhrahrah like a fucking rabid dog

[mahitomylove]

Mahito is desperate for your attention - Part 1

Mahito x Reader, fluff

Your house was filled in complete silence, ignoring the sound of the writing on the paper. You were studying, and Mahito was sitting on your bed, sighing every two minutes. He would occasionally turn himself into some animal and jump on your table to scare you, making you unable to focus. This time, he turned into a cat, rubbing against your leg.

"Look, I don't have time for this! I'm busy!" you yelled as you pushed your leg away, shaking it so that he'd let go. Instead, he turned into his real form to tap on your shoulder.

"What are you doing all this time?" he asked, pouting. He glanced at all the textbooks as he noticed some chemical formulas.

"Studying. Now leave me alone."

"Useless shit." Grabbing the textbook, he tossed it away. "Do me instead," he said while pointing at himself. Your face became red hearing his words, heart beating in your chest.

"M-Mahito- do you even know hear what comes from your mouth?" You averted your eyes and stood up to pick up the textbook he had thrown.

"Yeah? What's wrong?"

"Seriously!?"

"I mean, what's wrong with spending time with me?" he asked, confused. It seems like he really didn't know what "do me" meant. Or maybe he was just teasing you. You couldn't know. You didn't want to ask either, forcing yourself to believe in the former.

"Later, Mahito!"

You spent another two hours studying for your final exams, having to deal with Mahito whining every now and then. You were extremely distracted and finally snapped.

"Stop it, Mahito! Go outside and kill some people I don't care, just leave me alone!"

"But I like watching you..." he pouted once again. He looked so silly. "Wanna go with me?"

"No thanks."

"So mean..."

"I swear to god, if I fail because of you..."

"So what if you fail?" To him, such human concepts were so hard to comprehend. Why did the humans lock themselves up in a cage, following whatever society wants them to be like a mindless puppet? Curses were different. They had much more freedom. It was difficult for curses to understand humans. It made Mahito fascinated. "how pitiful..." he mumbled to himself.

"Okay! That's enough studying for today!" Mahito's eyes brightened up upon hearing your words.

"Finally!" he smiled and stood up.

"I should probably cook us some food." You stood up, ignoring Mahito who was walking towards you.

"You can cook later, we could play some board games now!"

"I'm hungry."

"We can order food."

"I'll go take a shower."

"Ugh. Do you really hate me that much?"

"No?"

"Then why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not. I'm just really busy. And in a bad mood."

His heterochromatic eyes darkened in disappointment as he frowned, thinking of a way to make you feel better.

"In a bad mood?" he was deep in thought, when he suddenly smiled, finding an idea. "How about we shower together? I could wash your back and stuff..."

Part 2

[toomanyideasandfandoms]

Idk if you're still taking requests but imagine one day Kazuha finds Creator's death note diary and finds a bunch of names. Realizing those are the people who killed the Creator before, he went "Ykw, I'm giving Our Holy One some therapy with the help of my friends" and kidnaps grabs Fischl, Mona, Xinyan, and finally you for an adventure-therapy or something something-

*cutely inserts Tomo breakdancing in Celestia*

PFFT that would be obviously hilarious and adorable.

I can definitely see the group having so much fun, probably telling stories of their lives that aren't mentioned in game. Maybe the creator also gaining information on how these specific characters views others. Like Mona's views of Fontaine or something.

Bonus if where they went was towards those summertime event islands.

But if we're considering Death Seeking Creator (I should probably make it known if those who send in asks don't want me to talk about Death Seeking please just tell me cause otherwise I'll just assume and we know what happens when assuming) though I don't think it would be possible considering he also was someone who killed the creator. Now I don't think he did it out of pure religious reasons, he's more level headed than that. He's someone who only kills "imposters" out of mercy, like Kaeya actually.

He makes it as quick and painless as possible, sometimes having done sneak attacks (so in the diary, the entries would only mention what the day as like before they write about them suddenly seeing darkness and then waking up in another nation). Not too mention the creator would use every single opportunity to experience another death.

They definitely would question Kazuha on why he's doing this, maybe even have some small breakthrough of where they're screaming at him and hurling insults that were thrown their way. Just absolutely trying to beat a dead horse essentially of why they have to die and that they don't understand why everyone is suddenly saying the opposite.

Tbh this makes me think of how confusing any therapy would be for Death Seeking Creator, because I can imagine them as this childishly stubborn person who refuses to see it as any other way purely because everything they did, they tried to do to change the outcome, always resulted in death no matter what. Peaceful talks? They couldn't get a word in before being sliced down. Fighting like a wild animal? Like they could defeat a god with their bare hands. Hiding and never greeting another person? They're always found out somehow, it's like the characters are drawn to them. Disguises? Even that doesn't work. Nothing they did work. So it had to be destiny right? They had to have this role of constant death? Why? Who fucking knows? They're not a god, they were never supposed to be a god. Why question the ways of a being they have no comprehension of how they think? It would be better to just play the role given, to be the the target every hunter wants. To be that white rabbit that gets chased by Alice throughout the story. But how they go? Well that'll be up to them, if the gods want some sick entertainment, why not make it more interesting?

[thecoolerliauditore]

Pls tell me about Scott's views on women in general pls I'm begging you

o7 and I'm sorry

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

fyi, the post itself isn't NSFW, but I'll be getting all gender theory in this bitch so I'll be referencing a lot of things and putting in pictures of naked ppl sometimes. maybe skip this one if you don't like that

(long post)

Disclaimers

An explanation for the tweet up there

I usually don't write these because I assume the people on my blog have enough sense to realise when I'm talking about the characters vs the CCs or are comfortable enough being a little confused, but I feel the need to extra-clarify here and expand on how I specifically view C vs CC because I think it differs a little from the average person.

To me, C and CC are two separate entities but not entirely disconnected. What differs (e.g. the exclusion of irl relationships -- their wives, kids, etc.) is poignant enough to severely detach them from the people they originated from, at least in my eyes, but there's also the fact that these are not scripted characters, just creators being themselves with a hint of behind the scenes drama-adding and improv thrown in.

For example, CC Pearl is a car nerd. So I assume her character is too.

This is where I state very clearly that yes, a lot of these thoughts come from things I've seen on Scott's twitter, which is undoubtedly the CC and not the C. However I, to me, am still talking about the C because any observations/judgments I could make on actual irl youtuber CC guy Scott Major would be tabloid at best and slightly invasive at worst. I'm seeing these statements within the context of "the death game guy would say this too and I'm writing this based on that", not "this is the inner psychological workings of the youtuber because I, as a fan, can totally tell".

TLDR I don't consider this post RPF but you might. This is a little more RPF-y than my usual stuff. If you don't rock with it we cool.

Everyone is weird about women, and that's okay

One short-hand I've used in the past to talk about Scott and women is just by saying that he's "weird about women" which I'm sure isn't exclusive to him.

(shitpost I made awhile back)

I see a lot of people now who love "villains" and "evil" but when it comes to any traits resembling real life evil (e.g. misogyny in this case) they suddenly become insecure. Just a couple of days back a saw a post on twitter essentially asking for permission to continue liking CC Scott in spite of the "bad things" he did.

And I think, in order to present an analysis like this, I must address that mindset first.

This is not a judgment on Scott's morality, nor is it trying to dissuade you from liking him. This is not saying that he is any more misogynistic than any other player in the series. This is just me pointing out Scott's attitude towards women and what I read it as, nothing less or more.

The feelings that me pointing these things out - be they apathy, disgust, anger or, what I would hope to see most, interest - are your own. I'm not here to tell anyone how to feel and never will try to police that on my blog.

Scott's Relationships with Women

aka. oh yeah this is about minecraft.

Scott and Cleo || "Yeah, you can kill me."

Scott and Cleo's alliance is arguably the strongest in the entire series, spanning through all five seasons and remaining unbroken with no (serious) drama attached. You'd expect from this that they two have a very settled and stable understanding of eachother, yet this isn't a case.

Their power dynamic shifts dramatically from one season to the next.

3L's initial Widows Alliance began on fairly equal footing, built on the mutual agreement that they were waiting for their respective partners to die. Both understood they were eachothers' "plan B" and felt comfortable in that arrangement.

Come LL, Cleo does what she couldn't in 3L, and initiates that plan, going to Scott after her last alliance, the fairy fort, fell apart. Scott requests nothing from her in return.

DL is the longest the two spent as eachothers main ally. Cleo is the one who initially proposes teaming up to spite their "cheating" soulmates and Scott agrees. Cleo admits to Martyn in private that she's aware she's taking advantage of Scott (which I've always interpreted as her talking about all seasons, not just DL). Due to the time they spend together, it's here where it becomes apparent that their initial assumptions during 3L were not entirely accurate, as Scott shows a level of gameplay competency much higher than Cleo's (e.g. teaching her how to axe-crit) but despite this Scott never berates her or thinks any less of her value as his ally.

LimL is probably this pairing at their most unhinged, as Scott, despite once again asking for nothing (or very little -- I'll be honest I'm a bit fuzzy on this) in return from Cleo, allows them and their allies to butcher him repeatedly for time. He gives more time to the Clockers than he does to Martyn, his closest ally that season. Despite this, Scott is never ever considered as a "family member" by the Clockers, despite them giving that title to even temporary allies (like the Bad Boys being their cousins) -- even Martyn gets a title with Scott completely unattached.

SL is relatively more chill, but shows that the two inevitably end up teaming together even despite their oath to avoid eachother that season.

The point being -- again and again, we see Scott literally and metaphorically making sacrifices for Cleo, with the only real transaction he requires from her being that she continues having his back when times get rough. This is despite that he's aware she isn't any more capable than he is and the fact that so far it has only been Cleo in rough times (LL, LimL and SL) and never Scott.

Speaking from a purely transactional perspective, Scott is not getting a bargain here -- and even Cleo seems acutely aware of it, judging by her comment during DL as well as the way she tends to speak of her survival capabilities very lowly in general ("rubbish pvp skills and spiffy one-liners"). I'm speaking in this sense because I've seen discussions in the past about the transactional way Scott views relationships but rarely does Cleo get brought up.

This is at stark contrast to how he treats Jimmy, whose predicted death was what spurred on Scott and Cleo's alliance in the first place.

Scott assumes Jimmy is "incompetent", where he assumes Cleo is capable. When Jimmy messes up, he reprimands him, when Cleo struggles to crit him, he patiently teaches her. When LL begins, Scott's first instinct was to look at Jimmy's lives and note that he was "useless to (him)", but holds no objections to Cleo joining his alliance despite her already having enemies being a potential liability. In SL, he jokes about how Cleo and him being allied is a given and pretty much expected of them, whereas in LimL he explicitly requests from Jimmy a recognition that he still cares ("say love you back!") before he will help him.

Scott and Gem || "You HAVE TO kill me, Gem,"

In SL, Gem settles in very easily in a leadership position within Gem and the Scotts due to her trying to live up to her reputation but also due to Scott and Impulse's more laid back, passive playstyles.

Both Scott and Impulse let Gem kill them for extra health this season, although Scott is arguably much more subservient than Impulse is, with him not only insisting that she kill him in the final episode but also not fighting back (and only yelling for her to stop) when she starts hitting him with a sword during the episode where her task was to literally kill everyone on the server.

Once again comparing her to Jimmy, Scott in 3L had a tendency to brush aside Jimmy's concerns over alliances (e.g. Jimmy questioning if they could trust Cleo) while in SL Scott runs his plans by Gem (and Pearl and Impulse) in terms of who he wanted to team up with (specifically excluding Joel from the potential mounders alliance) implying he held her opinion in some form of regard.

Before this becomes less of an analysis of Scott's treatment of men vs women and more of Scott's treatment of Jimmy vs everyone else, I think it's notable enough to mention that he and Martyn also lacked this sort of communication in LimL. He would inform Martyn of his plans, but rarely was it ever framed as a request.

SL almost feels as if Scott has slid Gem into the slot he had previously designated for Cleo in 3L (his girlboss ally) as he provides her and pretty much forces onto her by the end the acts of service he'd become accustomed to performing for Cleo.

Scott and Lizzie || "You killed her! I don't.. I don't know what to even say!"

Relatively shorter section because this is the one woman he hasn't teamed with, but there's still some interesting stuff I wanted to touch on.

In LL, one of the first thing Scott does is yell at Pearl to revenge-kill Joel for boogey-killing him. Pearl does as she's told and Joel's wet miserable pathetic LL life gets worse from there.

Several episodes later, the roles are reversed -- Lizzie lies to both of them and manages to isolate and boogey-kill Pearl. Scott, instead of reacting with the anger he had for Joel, is almost in a state of shock as he asks Lizzie to let him down so he could collect Pearl's belongings. He doesn't act aggressively towards Lizzie at all, with his most antagonizing act against her being to lie about his intentions when giving her a wither skull.

In SL, he's the only one aware of her early permadeath, but keeps quiet about it almost as if he's in a state of shock akin to when he saw Lizzie kill Pearl in LL. It's not until the others have noticed when he finally brings it up.

Scott and Pearl || "Tilly death do us 'part"

I wrote a whole post just for their relationship alone so for the sake of my sanity I'll be leaving this here.

So now I get to dedicate this section to the meat of this post -- how the way Scott treats women in general impacts his relationship with Pearl and how I view his heel-turn on her as seeping with relevance to Pearl's perceived gender.

In all three of the previous sections, the running theme is that Scott is 1. kinder and more patient with women, regardless of their competency and 2. someone who likes to be in a supporting role to women, occasionally aiding them more than he aids himself and his closer male allies (e.g. Jimmy and Martyn). As shown with Cleo, he assumes that girls have it together, but even if they don't it's not a big deal. When a girl's actions are truly disastrous, such as with Lizzie's, he goes into a state of shock and doesn't really react, preferring to swallow it down and not acknowledge it.

With the amount of times he sacrifices himself, I don't think it's a reach to say that Scott values his own life less than he values the lives of his (female) allies. This specific point actually does extend to his male allies too, shown when he's happy when Martyn literally backstabs him in LimL, but just as with the Martyn post where I point out his victim status-ing doesn't end at only women but includes all the women, Scott has pedastal-ed all the women he's teamed with.

Lizzie is, once again, the exception here due to his limited interactions with her. However that's actually somewhat patched over if you look at adjacent series (such as x-life) where he definitely shows her a level of admiration and respect.

Back to Scott and Pearl.

Their relationship during LL is very standard of how Scott treats women. While the power dynamic between them is obviously more caused by the initial life trade agreement, I don't think it's a far reach to say that Scott is somewhat comfortable in the arrangement.

However, this is also the first thing that sets their relationship apart from Scott with Cleo or Gem -- Pearl is the one making sacrifices, not Scott. She is the one "sacrificing" her lives to him, just in a more non-violent way as allowed by the season's mechanics.

When viewed through this lens, Scott trying to make it up to her and wanting his effort acknowledged makes even more sense. This is suddenly uncharted waters for him. His assuming that Pearl doesn't value him as a person goes hand in hand with him valuing himself less than her.

What Scott has with Cleo or Gem, situations where the other party is clearly uncomfortable with how he treats himself (Gem) or actively aware they are taking advantage of him (Cleo), is equalized to him because he is inherently worth less. What he has with Pearl, on the other hand, looks more equal to most people (lives vs labour) but is wildly imbalanced to him.

It's one of the many factors I see going into Scott's weird decision to abandon her in DL.

An Interlude, Before We Get to DL

La Pieta, Michelangelo

So this has been a lot of words so far and some of you might be wondering at this point: why say Scott is "weird" about women when so far this has been describing how he values women more, is kinder to them, is more patient with them, etc.? How is any of this behaviour remotely misogynistic?

And I would feel horrible if I forced you to read through all of my DL thoughts before I clarified this -- Scott is not your classic wifebeater "women are lesser" misogynist, Scott is someone who subscribes to misogynistic schools of thought and probably considers himself an ally to women, when in reality his beliefs are still rooted in dehumanizing them and these beliefs end up harming the women around him as well as himself.

After all, seeing women are your superiors is still not seeing them as your equals.

I know it's a bit of a meme on this blog at this point. But. Sigmund Freud identified what we know refer to as the "madonna/whore complex", which he described as a pattern of behaviour in men who separated women into being madonnas (pure, holy and admirable) and whores (debased, sexual, deviant). We'll be focusing on the former, the madonna, as it is more relevant to Scott's character.

Freud proposed that the madonna figure was something men projected onto women as a replacement for maternal love. These women are sacred and untouchable, literally as the projection of the maternal role onto them also makes it so that the sufferer cannot feel any sexual attraction towards her (keep this in mind for later).

Scott projects the madonna figure onto his female compatriots -- they are to be protected, served and supported. They are goddesses, queens, but they are never human. The madonna role in of itself is not inherently harmful to the woman, as seen with Cleo who takes control and advantage of it. However, it is enforced, as seen with Gem who at first revels in the superiority but almost breaks down when Scott offers him up as her sacrificial lamb one last time.

I linked this Utena AMV awhile back when vaguely talking about Scott and women, and this was the point I was alluding to.

Girls are beautiful and pure. They don't spit on the street, they don't piss on the street, they don't build hierarchies -- they subvert all the expectations of masculinity that I hate having to deal with. They are my escape.

But what about the girls who do spit on the street? The girls who piss on seats? Who build social hierarchies, who size up their competition?

The girls Scott interacts with are all painfully human. Cleo weaponizes his beliefs and take advantage of him. Scott is smart enough to know and accept this. Gem's playing into a role she has been assigned into by not only Scott but everyone around her. Scott supports the character she plays. Lizzie reflects traits he hates in Joel and Jimmy, but for her, he looks the other way.

Are they "demons", as the song says, or are they no longer girls at all?

(demons, gods, but never humans)

Weaponized Femininity and Women In Total Control of Themselves ;)

Hylas and the Nymphs, John William Waterhouse

Historically, weaponized femininity I'd argue is one of the oldest tropes in storytelling. Whether it's nymphs or sirens or witches or succubi or even more roundabout cases like Helen of Troy, there's countless stories of men's sexual attraction to women leading them to disaster.

One way to view these stories is to see them as warnings, don't let womens allure be the end of you.

There's a lot of good writing done on the femme fatale trope both in the context of weaponizing femininity and as a sexist way to argue against victims of sexual assault, as these stories often say that men who experience attraction to these "evil" women no longer have agency over their own actions.

Look at the painting above, for example - is it the nymphs who are responsible for drowning Hylas, or is Hylas climbing into the lake of his own accord?

Despite the fact we all know sirens, nymphs and succubi aren't real, the belief that men will simply lose control of themselves when encountering a particularly alluring woman persists to the modern consciousness. That there's something inherently dangerous about women and attraction to them.

(this is not 100% applicable to Ninja saying he won't stream with women, but it's the real life example I felt most comfortable putting in here)

Now, let's combine this with what's been said so far -- let's say you don't hate women. You love women, in fact, and you hate the way men treat women. You hate men, in fact.

Yet, you still believe in this inherent power women hold by being female and the loss of agency that men experience when attracted to them -- how disgusting.

It quickly becomes easily to not only demonize men for sullying the holiness of women, but also men, masculinity and attraction to women as a whole.

(apologies for using twt discourse in the meta post but this flew by my TL and i had to grab the irl example of mens non-violent attraction to women being used to frame them as misogynistic before the stupid app refreshed and i lose everything forever)

"To Venner" is a student film exploring a world set within this belief, where all the women have vanished and the men have become monstrous figures as a result of their pent up sexual frustration. fyi this is one of my favourite student films (and ive watched a bunch), but I do think its messaging is worth breaking down (especially its juxtaposition of dirty horrible monstrous sexuality vs pure and beautiful romantic love)

NOTE: this film is super graphic, lots of violence and nudity. have fun. or not

I admit this section is a bit hard to gauge as everyone in the series is gay as fuck. The closest in-series example I can think of is Scott reacting to Martyn's antics in DL with a sort of indigence but otherwise I can't really think of an example of a man expressing attraction to a woman at all, let alone one Scott reacted to. However, I do think it's still worth talking about because it opens up some interesting trains of thought in regard to Scott and Pearl.

For Scott, he himself has never been part of the picture. He's gay, after all, which gives him an edge over the bad straight men who objectify and assault women. Likewise, there's little evidence to suggest he finds the expectations of masculinity frustrating, but I don't think it's too far a reach considering how common of an experience that is for gay men and his adapting of more feminine mannerisms.

Double Life and Corruption

As mentioned in my previously linked post about Scott and Pearl's relationship, I do think Scott experiences what he would name as attraction towards Pearl, so my writing will reflect that.

Pearl is. ahem. not like other girls.

Not actually. But to Scott, she probably isn't like other girls.

She remains unaware of his different standards for her (how could she when she had nothing to compare them to), she acts out, sometimes violently, against Scott's urging (such as when she stole from Scar's wagon). She maintains their already irregular dynamic, and while she appreciates his care for her, she never quite falls into seeing him as a source of subservience the way Cleo or Gem do.

At the end of LL, right before the 1v1v1v1, she monologues to herself that she no longer has to feel bad for killing Scott. Which, in turn, implies she expected Scott to give it his all against her as well.

She entirely fails to embody the madonna with her immature naivete and her questionable morals. She is unpredictable, she doesn't take what she is owed, she is a monster in a lot of ways.

Scott, too, is a monster, to himself, for how he feels about her.

The very foundations of your understanding of yourself being ripped apart aside, let's rewind to the madonna/whore complex. To sexualise the madonna is to corrupt her and make a monster of yourself. Suddenly, you are no better than the men around you, the ones you've grown to hate. Suddenly, you are the grotesque figures in films like To Venner. You are Hylas and she is the nymph. And you are so stupid. Your worldview crumbles around its flawed foundations.

Scott is, however, immune to this corruption. This is a theme that appears in Empires as well, but throughout the traffic series he's prided himself on being loyal and kind and good. His monologue leading up to LL's 1v1v1v1 summarizes it quite well.

He can't let himself or anyone else see this side of him, but the energy needs to go somewhere. To defy fate, abandon your soulmate, is to admit you had a fate in the first place, is to acknowledge that she was your soulmate in the first place.

I've previously talked about how fate and romance are very ingrained in Scott's belief system, if it was anyone else it would've been amazing. He could've been like Bdubs and Impulse or Ren and Bigb, diving into domestic life and performative romance with a stranger. Or the world could've made his happy ending from 3L real, as he got to be Jimmy's husband all over again. I think it says something that he accepts Cleo as a "soulmate" before Pearl.

So what do you do with all that energy and tension, clearly apparent to yourself and everyone else, when you can't let them observe your feelings?

You project them.

Shout-outs to @/legally-allowed-to-slime for pointing out Pearl's comment early on in DL that she "feels like (she's) been broken up with" confirms she never saw Scott in a romantic sense. The "crazy ex-girlfriend" and "this is why I'm gay" comments really did come out of thin air, or perhaps insecurity.

Pearl is the crazy one. She's insane, because she wants me. She wants to be with me, so she does all this crazy stuff. She's lost control of herself because she wants me. She's disgusting.

I mentioned before that Scott is not your classic misogynist, but this is where the gears start turning. Scott's views of Pearl echo that of other players, most prominently Ren and Martyn, that Pearl has been overcome with some sort of corruption. She has become the witch, the demoness, the whore, in their eyes. Scott does not want to be the same as these men and I think his overcorrecting his behaviour in SL makes sense when you view it from this angle, but for now he has to rely on more traditional misogyny in order to navigate this new obstacle.

"Corruption" also implies that she had to have been pure (or at least pure-er) beforehand, something Scott personally knows is not true, but it falls in line with defaulting women to being "madonnas".

This is a Scott post but. shout outs to Ren for being all of this about Pearl but without the complexity of Scott like he literally accuses Pearl of seducing Bigb what the fuck man.

Pearl is, of course, none of that. But she plays into the role of being the witch much better than she fared playing into the role of the madonna.

Sidenote: I know I'm looking at this from a Scott/Pearl POV but I do feel like you can omit Scott's attraction if you look at it from a purely "pearl not performing to standards of femininity I expect and she makes me realise I don't view women as a whole as human which makes me feel weird so now we have to do this" POV. Like idk I think the exact reason he abandoned Pearl is going to be lost on everyone forever so any analysis I could perform is going to suffer at least a little bit of making-shit-up-itis.

I do also think there's something to be said about Pearl being pushed until she performed a role, any role and generally failing at Being A Girl tm but that's another post i think. yknow shes um. a bit. 🏳️‍⚧️ (but also very much not at the same time idk that's gonna need its own post)

anyway yeah uh the minecraft movie looks crazy huh

[joelsmochi]

Playing Dangerous

SUMMARY: female Reader, who works for the Cartel, received instructions to burn down a house for her boss. Javier went to arrest her, but once she realized he wouldn't play the same games as her, she knew she needed to offer up something else as her ticket to freedom... WARNINGS: 18+, no use of Y/N, power play, prostitution & bribery if you look close, unspoken degradation, handcuffs, unprotected piv sex, creampie, lots of good girl bombs, car sex (one day i’ll write good smut in a bed…one day) WC: 4.9k - It is finally here. The second story in my LDR series. So sorry for the long wait, but I hope you enjoy ♡

masterlist

You just can’t stay out of trouble, can you?

You were standing on your small porch with an admirably handsome DEA agent questioning you about a fire. You knew you had the upper hand here when you noticed his eyes casting over your half-naked body that glistened with a light layer of sweat.

“Do you know anything about that, ma’am?” He asked you softly; you knew he knew it was you, but what proof did he have?

You just smirked and shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “No, sir,” you cooed while pursing your lips.

He cleared his throat hastily and his eyes narrowed. “Really? Because witnesses say you’re the one responsible.”

Apparently, he had enough proof.

You shrugged, maintaining eye contact with him. “Everybody knows that I’m a good girl, officer.”

His body tensed at your voice’s softness but he maintained his composure for the most part. A breeze passing by gave your skin goosebumps and made your nipples perk up; he briefly daydreamed about his tongue twirling around it, feeling annoyed that he was thinking about something like that during a stressful time for him.

“It’s Agent,” he corrected.

Your eyebrows raised and you gave him a fake apologetic look. “Oh, my apologies.”

“So… It wasn’t you?”

“No, I wouldn’t do a thing like that.”

And it was mostly true. You preferred a less obvious way of taking out enemies and outposts, but your boss’s boss wanted everyone to know who was still in charge here. You disagreed with the approach but didn’t argue. After all, they do pay your bills.

“Are you sure?” He edged, sensing how you wanted to play games with him. He was over it, and to be frank, your short and thin nightgown had his head full of inappropriate thoughts that made him want to hurry up and get home to fuck his fist.

He hated how pretty you were in the moonlight with your makeup from the day still on, but his wandering eyes saw how fresh your lipstick was. He perceived it as your way of trying to seduce him, or whatever officer came by, and being turned on by it pissed him off even more.

“I heard from the neighbors that the house was already on fire,” you said simply with a swift shrug, but his warm and inviting eyes suddenly turn shallow and cold; you were thrown off of your game of lies so you attempted to change the subject. “Gosh, I’m all exposed here in my nightgown… Do you mind if I go and cover up? You’re more than welcome to come inside.”

Yeah. Right. Javier may be attracted to you, but he’s not stupid. You could take this as an opportunity to shoot him or kidnap him.

As harmless as you look, you were still one of Escobar’s employees and they typically did whatever they needed to survive with confidence. This just wasn’t a chance Javier could take.

“Nice try. Come on, hands on your head,” he said contemptuously while unveiling his handcuffs.

You frowned feeling confused at the sudden shift of his energy, stuttering over your own words as you defiantly obliged.

His eyes avoided yours as he readied the cuffs and stepped closer to you to make the arrest official. He didn’t care to be gentle with you either — why should he?

After all, you did almost kill someone tonight.

His slender fingers jabbed at your ribcage as his hand forced your body to turn around; you felt a few knuckles crack uncomfortably from how hard he pulled your hands from above your head to the small of your back.

“Do you really have to put those tight handcuffs on me?” You asked when he clicked the cuffs a little too far. He didn't respond.

He tried to keep his eyes off of how plump your ass looked beneath the thin gown, but it was hard when the force of his hands moving your body as he cuffed you made your ass jiggle effortlessly.

But still, he maintained composure.

You accepted your fate, but you still wanted to try to earn your freedom. Something you’d never done before but weren’t ashamed to do. Not when a man this handsome wears his heart — or rather, his cock on his sleeve.

He pulled at your arm roughly and began walking you to his car. The lack of communication from him only prompted you to speak even more.

“Please, I’ll do anything,” you said.

Still nothing.

“Please, officer, I will do anything.”

Fuck… How he would give almost anything to bend you over and—no.

He knew that you were just trying to get off scot-free, and he couldn’t—wouldn’t let that happen.

“Anything you like, sir,” you cooed oh so sweetly it nearly gave him a toothache.

He stopped you right in front of the car to glare at you. At least he tried to. Your smile was smug yet innocent, and your eyes expressed an eagerness foreign to him.

You weren’t a prostitute, and he knew that from your record. You weren’t the type to sell your body, so… Why do it now? He wondered if you were trying to be let go or maybe…? No, no, it can’t be that…

He realized he’d been in thought too long when he looked back into your eyes, and that eagerness hadn’t left. Was it possible you really just wanted to have sex with him?

The light in your eyes gleamed different than most of the women he’d been with — he just couldn’t put his finger on the particular emotion.

“Nobody has to know if that’s what you’re worried about,” you whispered as your eyes faltered to his partially exposed chest.

Oh.

The excitement and eagerness and anticipation he was picking up from you? It was rebellion. You didn’t want to have sex with Javier. What you wanted was to lay in bed with the enemy. It all made sense.

And it made him undeniably weak in the knees. His stomach flipped just thinking about it.

“Sounds like that’s what you’re worried about,” he retorted.

A flicker of vulnerability highlights your eyes that wasn't unnoticed by him. He didn’t understand why his body was under so much hesitation by your damsel in distress act.

Maybe it was how you called yourself a good girl even though everything about you screamed otherwise. Your short gown and your evilly beautiful smile… Your cockiness and playful personality…

Or maybe Javier had just gone too long without any.

“Let’s get in the back of your cop car, officer,” you keenly propose; though the repetition of officer had him gritting his teeth, he no longer wanted to hold off your fantasy of betrayal. “You can ask me anything you want.”

“Anything?”

You simpered at the way his eyebrows raised and nodded. “Anything.”

He didn’t hesitate with your negotiation, using his broody arm to swiftly pull you to the side of the Jeep before he opened the door for you.

He shouldn’t be doing this. No, Steve is gonna kill him. What kind of person takes sex from an arsonist as a bribe? Had his standards for morality really dropped that low? But he caught a glimpse of the still-burning fire in the distance and decided: what the hell?

He climbed in after you and shut the door, thankful you live in a more than secluded area. He could have been a gentleman and taken you to your bedroom. He just didn’t want to.

He studied you like any of Escobar’s other men — and you surprised him tonight. You were notorious for being hardheaded (that had only been proven correct tonight), but you also had the reputation of making men your bitch.

So he couldn’t help but wonder… What made him so different that you’d degrade yourself for an arrest that probably wouldn’t have even held up anyways?

Were you that desperate? Didn’t matter. He was going to find out.

“Do you have a girl?”

Your question threw him off. “Hmm?” He raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I don’t see a ring on your finger,” you said instead of repeating yourself.

“Uh, no,” he said though he wasn’t entirely sure what the truth was at this exact moment. “No Misses… Is that seriously where you draw the line?”

You grinned and giggled loudly, shifting to find comfort within your current restraint. “No, but that does make this a little less fun.”

He couldn’t ignore how his cock antagonized his jeans, enthusiastically twitching against his zipper. He cleared his throat and spread his thighs to try and give his member some room to breathe, to no avail.

His tone was mean and cold as he spoke. “Is that what this is? Fun?”

Your smile faltered almost entirely, replacing itself with a much more shy one. No man who was only minutes away from fucking you had ever spoken like that. You couldn’t deny the insecurity that suddenly rose inside of you.

“It doesn’t have to be,” you said bashfully, unintentionally batting your eyes at him and cowering your head down. As embarrassed as you were, you almost enjoyed it: the shame and the submission eradicated any impulsiveness within you. 

This was no longer an escape plan but a mere effort to make him remember you.

“…I can ask you anything?” He asked after squinting at you. He tried his best not to smile when he realized he was getting to you.

“Anything you want,” you said just barely above a whisper.

He watched you look at him through your eyelashes with admiration glowing in your pretty eyes. He took your chin between his thumb and index finger to tilt your head up a little; he gave you a crooked smile before asking, “Are you a good girl?”

Your heart leaped inside your warm chest. You wanted to stoop to his level and be mean and taunting right back, but you just fucking couldn’t.

God, he was handsome. So dark yet so bright. With a mysterious charisma that no other man could possess, he had you wrapping yourself around his finger. So… You try to appease him.

“That’s what I said, isn't it?”

You didn’t hear how harsh it came out, so it was a surprise when his gentle fingers wrapped tightly around your jaw below your chin. You whimpered and leaned your chest to his forearm, giving him goose skin.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed out. “I didn’t mean to—“

“Shh,” he whispered, “I know.” He teasingly moved your head around and half-smiled again. “Did you set the house on fire?”

“I—“

His grip tightened, resulting in your cheeks and lips being squished up a little. “I’ll know if you’re lying.”

“Y—yes. I did.”

“C’mere.” His hand remained clamped around your jaw while he managed to guide you atop his lap; he used his free hand to undo the button and zipper on his jeans and then reached beneath your nightgown and rubbed your panty line. “Good girl… Right?” You could only nod at his question, untrusting of your voice. His grip loosened so that he could trace his thumb over your tinted cheeks. “S’this what you really want?”

You gave him a daunting smile and nodded once more. “Yes.”

His hands disappeared below your gown; his right arm wrapped around your hips to lift you slightly while his left hand reached for his semi-hard length, pulling it out with a hard tug.

He kept his pouted brown eyes on yours the entire time, wanting to see every movement your face made. He pulled your panties to the side and let his swelling head meet your entrance.

Javier admired your patience — even dragging the head of his cock back and forth along your pussy lips for a minute wouldn’t make you act out of line. You wanted to prove to him how good you were so that he could forget all of the bad things you did.

He carefully placed his cock head at your entrance and slowly let go of your hips so that you could take your time to adjust to him.

A contentious sigh fell from his lips when he felt how tight you were compared to his girth. He took the liberty of undoing the rest of his shirt while you tried to gather enough stability to fully sink onto him, but with the lack of foreplay, a pain-filled hiss was heard by you.

“Take it slow,” he instructed confidently. “Take what you can.”

A sense of relief washed over you, and for the time being, you only took a couple of inches inside your needy cunt. You exhaled softly as you raised your hips kindly and slid back down.

Javier watched with attentive eyes, finding the little frown forming on your face adorable. Your eyes were shut with focus as you tried to maintain balance and a slow but consistent pace.

“Fuck,” you whispered, feeling the slight burning sensation of him stretching you out slowly dissipate into pure pleasure as your slick walls relaxed around him, allowing you to take more of his length in.

Even though his eyes were on your face, all his focus was on how tightly your sopping pussy squeezed around him. He loved how your pussy clenched around him to adapt to his girth. If your pussy felt this good now, he couldn’t wait to know how much better it’ll get when you come.

“Why’d you set the house on fire?” He asked randomly.

“What?” Your movements faltered, and you frowned at him. Is that seriously what’s on his mind right now?

“Did I say you could stop?” He said darkly.

You hesitated, stuttering out a, “N—no.”

But you were too lost in his stern eye contact to start riding him again.

So with one brief movement, he forced your hips down so that his cock filled you. A cry of pain left your lips, and you unintentionally tightened your knees against his thighs, which he didn’t seem to mind.

You were sure to not waste another moment, so you lifted your hips and took everything in again, but he filled you to your brim.

The bulbous head of his dick grazing against the peak of your cervix became more comfortable within a few more movements, and you finally gained enough composure to answer his question.

“I do everything the boss tells me to. Mnh…” You breathed heavily and settled at a steady pace, feeling your arms beginning to lock up behind you. “I don’t question it. I just do it.”

He surprised you by thrusting into you once as you were lifted, but he was careful not to go too deep. “Okay… I believe you.”

You grinned and sank onto him completely. “What’s your real name?” You asked him, leaning your face closer to his.

He stared plainly at your eyes and held his breath for a moment. “Javier.”

You rewarded him by going up…then down again. You watched how his body responded to the slow but forceful movement. “What a pretty name,” you complimented. “Do you prefer Javier… Or something else?”

“I’d prefer it if you stopped teasing me,” he groaned through clenched teeth. You felt his body tense up despite the lack of physical contact.

Your eyes battered back and forth in brief ponder. You wanted to tease him a little longer, make him beg for it even, but you had to remind yourself that he was in charge whether you liked it or not.

“Can you hold onto me for a second?” You asked, which he seemed happy to do.

Something about feeling up the smooth fabric that clad your body sent shivers down his spine and straight to his dick.

His long fingers found their way around your waist, and you trusted his grip enough to shift onto your feet so that you were squatting on him.

“Okay,  now I need you to put your arms under my thighs,” you instructed, praising him when he listened. “Just hold me steady, okay?”

You didn’t give him much time to respond before raising your body until his cock was almost entirely out of you, then you slammed your hips back down so that he filled you again.

He couldn’t prevent the pathetic and loud whimper that escaped his throat. The slight change in the position provided more than enough pleasure to make his entire body jerk. His hands instinctively grabbed the cuff of your ass as you repeated the motion at a relentless pace with an intense force every time you squatted.

At this angle, your walls gripped around him so much he grew afraid he would come too soon, but he couldn’t stop — he didn’t fucking want to.

Everything felt too good. You were so wet for him, and he felt your hot precum leak out of you and coat his balls. Your ass was warm but still covered in goosebumps from how his cock stretched you out so sweetly — nothing was painful anymore. Not even your handcuffed wrists.

Seeing the pure bliss spread across his face was motivating you to continue. His eyes were shut, and his eyebrows were raised with concern. You watched as his tongue flicked across his bottom lip between the helpless moans he let out.

When he noticed how quiet you were, he looked at you worriedly, but you were just focused on being good for him. He saw how heavy your eyes were and how you were almost biting back your moans.

“That feel good?” You asked when you saw him look.

His eyebrows stitched together as he profusely nodded and gripped even more of your ass. “Yes, fuck yes, keep going,” he encouraged.

The strap to your gown slipped down your shoulder enough to reveal part of your nipple. Javier was inclined to fully unveil your breast, but something about almost seeing all of you was more invigorating, at least for the time being.

All these feelings were too much: he had to come, but he didn’t want to stop. But your velvety walls only felt like they were getting tighter and tighter.

You felt him getting close with how his body kept twitching, flinching, and tensing up with every squat. His moans grew breathy and hitched rather than full of bass. He wouldn’t be able to hold off any longer.

He let you get him as close as possible. So fucking close. His body was on fire, and his head fell back against the seat again.

His cock was tortured by the slickness of your walls that dared him to empty himself inside of you, but when an inch of his orgasm had begun, he was quick to push your hips up and slip himself out of you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he shouted. You chuckled, shifting back to your knees for comfort, then leaned forward to kiss him. He looked up at you again and gave you an embarrassed smile. “Fuck, sorry,” he laughed against your lips. His laugh was so sweet and gentle.

You loved the way he talked and how hollow his voice sounded. His words were bitter, but his voice tasted so sweet.

He gave you another kiss while lifting you off his lap; he guided your body so that you were on your knees facing the window before pulling your panties aside again to slip back into your glistening pussy.

You gasped at the newfound depth and rested your head on the seat, smiling when you felt him tug at the link connecting the handcuffs.

This was wrong.

The lack of respect you had for your colleagues and bosses got you here. Fucking ‘the enemy’. It felt so good to decide on your own, to betray them. It was like Javier took a lighter and ignited every flame inside of you again.

He pleased parts of you that he wasn’t aware of, and you couldn’t be bothered to let it end so soon. Not when rebellion tasted so sweet and fucked you so good.

Javier noticed you biting your lip again to quiet yourself — yet another habit you picked up on from previous partners — and hated it. He loved having vocal partners, even if words weren’t being said. He felt a little insecure, wondering if he wasn’t doing a good job, but your trembling body told him otherwise.

“Com’ere,” he said, lifting your upper half from the seat. His clad chest pressed against your back with the cool metal of the handcuffs hovering over your ass, and he kissed your jawbone before trailing a lick up your ear. “Don’t hold back for me, baby. Let me hear you,” he pleaded weakly.

Shivers trickled down your body, and you shuddered at the feeling. He smelled of expensive cigarettes, a light layer of musky cologne, and sweat. His scent was so intoxicating and made you even more needy for his touch. His calloused hands grazing over your ass beneath your pajamas tickled your skin and made you exhale loudly.

You felt his hand snake between your bodies before he lined his dick up with your entrance. He pushed it in at an achingly slow pace, making you whine and pout.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” he said in a way that sounded like he was laughing at you. His hand palmed your hip as he began thrusting inside you, filling you up nicely each time. “That feel good?”

You nodded and held your breath, making him punish you by reaching around your hip to land firm a smack against your clit. You yelped and flinched, yet found the pain to be a turn-on.

“Yes,” you said, not wanting to be scolded by him any further. “Yes! It feels good.”

He chuckled wryly and began pounding into you at a relentless speed. His thighs slapped against yours, and his grip on your hip tightened.

You let out noises you didn’t even know you could make. Squeaks, yelps, falsettos — all this for Javier, and oh my God, did it bring him close to the edge again.

He wanted you to feel him, touch him. No. He needed you to. He needed your hands to undress him. To tug at his hair and claw at his back. He needed you to hold his face in your soft and clammy palms. He wanted to watch your pretty fingers work patterns on your clit while he bent your legs to your head and fucked into your stomach.

Then, suddenly he began uncuffing your wrists. You were thankful for the relief but tried to contain your excitement. He held the handcuffs in front of your face, then whispered, “You misbehave, and they go right back on. You understand?”

You nodded, shouting out, “Yes,” before gripping his hand on your hips as he still pounded your squelching pussy.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he began hitting your favorite spot at a new angle, fulfilling your need for pleasure in the deepest parts of your heart.

He moved his hand to grip your jaw and pulled your head back so your forehead pressed against his chin. Your back was in discomfort from the arched position, but his cock made up for it.

“Look at you…” He grunted. Your mouth was agape, and your eyes were clenched shut as your raspy moans filled his ears. “So fucking helpless,” he whispered, leaving soft pecks against your forehead. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good, baby girl. Oh.”

You cried out his name as he continued to speak sweet nothings to you. Your nails clawed at his hand at the rise of tension building inside of your stomach.

“You treat me so well, Javier,” you breathlessly spoke. “That feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He kept his momentum up as best he could when he felt your walls flutter around his shaft. It made his head feel dizzy, and his cock ached from wanting to release inside you.

The pressure began to release itself, and you weren’t sure how much longer it’d be before you came. “Can I—fuck! Can I cum? Can I please cum?”

His plump lips neared your ear as he said, “Yes, yes, yes, you can cum for me, pretty girl. You’re such a good girl for me.”

You screamed embarrassingly loud as your pussy flexed and contracted against him at his words, amplifying the orgasm peacocking throughout your body. He released your neck and ran his hands over your shoulder blades as you bent over and fucked him back to ride out your orgasm.

He looked down where you two were connected and saw a thick, white ring of cum wrapped around the base of his cock. He listened to your lowering volume carefully, waiting until you were finished as he didn’t want to overwhelm you.

At least not yet.

“Good…” He paused to land a firm smack on your ass cheek. “…Girl.” Another smack.

You flinched both times, making you both lazily giggle. He nibbled at your earlobe and kissed your neck before directing you to lie down.

You made sure to slouch down a little so that your back was against the seat and your legs up in the air; he rid you of your panties before cupping the back of your knees. He kept your legs pushed back and spread wide open for him as he slowly dipped his cock inside you without assistance.

You watched in awe as he stretched you out again, humming when he filled you and yelping when he pulled out. You laughed when he repeated the action a few times: fill you up, leave you empty…

He loved watching your muscles twitch due to his movements, such as your clit throbbing and your entrance clinging to him.

Finally, he went as deep as he could reach and watched the peak of your belly rise a little. He looked into your eyes and gave you a reassuring smile.

“You okay?” He asked quickly.

“Yeah,” you assured, “that feels good.”

His smile turned to a smirk, and he rocked his hips slowly. “Yeah?” He laughed.

You reached out to hold his face in your hands while biting your lip. He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. He allowed himself to fall into the euphoric feeling of you.

His mind wanted to remember how all this felt: your walls were so warm with soft edges, but your hands were so smooth against the grain of his beard. Your moans were intoxicating and addictive.

It was all he wanted to hear at this point in time. Who you were before didn’t matter anymore. Fuck no. You were Javier’s newly founded favorite priority, and he’d do anything to feel this good with you again.

He felt he was also rebelling against his morals and nature. How could he resist you, though? Standing there in your cute little nightgown and fresh lipstick on… So naughty and daunting yet so beautiful and obedient.

He reopened his lust-filled eyes and watched you moan and cry for him and for more. Your eyes were narrow, and your lip was swollen from where you were biting. You looked so pathetic beneath him, and it stroked his ego a little too much.

“Look at you.” He leaned his chest down to yours and gave you a sloppy kiss. “Look at you taking my cock like a good girl, hmm?” He laughed bullyingly and smacked the back of your thigh while he rose again. “Play with your pussy, baby girl,” he told you; you obeyed without a second thought and gave yourself the added pleasure. “That’s it, good job… Yeah, keep doing that. Oh-ho, you look so pretty like that.”

You rubbed your clit like you do any other time you touch yourself, but your nerves were already so overwhelmed that you went in a little more rough than usual.

You twisted, pinched, smacked, and rubbed relentlessly at your innocent clit, almost like you were punishing yourself. Javier saw how needy you were to come again and couldn’t hold out much longer.

He was preparing himself to ask you where you wanted him to finish, but he felt you gather some of your cum up from around him before you shoved your slicked fingers into your mouth while maintaining eye contact with him.

He couldn’t control nor stop it.

He was a whimpering and moaning pathetic mess above you.

He collapsed on top of you and finished his orgasm with lazy thrusts, feeling overstimulated sooner than he would have liked to admit.

He lifted his head shamefully and rolled his eyes when he saw your arrogant ass smile.

“Shut up,” he said though you hadn’t said anything. He felt guilty for not giving you a second orgasm, but you were already reaching for your panties and slipping them back on. He sat beside you and tucked his faltering erection in his jeans before zipping them up halfway.

“Gonna keep you inside of me as long as possible,” you whispered seductively in his ear after he lit his cigarette. He rolled his eyes more playfully this time and simpered bashfully. “You still gonna arrest me, Javier?” You chirped after facing him and sitting on your knees.

He breathed out the smoke from his lungs and looked at you while rubbing your half-exposed thigh. “I thought everybody said you were a good girl?”

You grinned, a blush spreading rapidly over your cheekbones. You responded to him by subtly nodding.

“Come ‘ere.” You two shared a kiss that was full of post-sex love and excitement. “If I have to put these handcuffs on you again, I won't be so nice."

[jenna-ortega]

history of man

pairing - joelmiller x femalereader ratings - 18+ word count - 4k warnings - arranged marriage AU, dubious con(the whole arranged marriage against readers will thing), angst, brat!reader, softdom!joel, kidnapping, jumpscare!david, salt lake but a very different salt lake than the games (aka no cannibalism) , panic attack authors note - thank you for waiting for this! i really hope you enjoy it, no smut in the first chapter :( (ik boooo) but there will be smut to come. cause you know joel miller is nothing if not a seducer of woman. comment, and let me know what you think! lets have a discourse.

SUMMARY - You thought coming to silver lake would be better than your previous QZ living situation. Come to find out, you had more than freedom waiting for you on the other side of the wall. You had Joel Miller, whether you wanted him or not.

series masterlist

Fuck this. Fuck him. They hold you hostage then offer you food and water? This shit doesn’t feel right. Your whole body turns away from him. Pushing the glass further from you as you pout.  “Drink.”  “No.”   “Now. The growl in his voice startles you. For someone who swears they aren’t going to hurt you, it feels a hell of a lot like he is. Your eyes find his, now dark with a scowl on his face.  “I’m not gonna tell ya again, girl.”  You scoff. “What…you’re gonna force me?” 

Nothing you’ve been through thus far could have prepared you for this. 

It’s dark. So, so dark. 

“Get off me!” you screamed while trashing your body in the man's arms. Earning you an elbow to the side that made you groan at the harsh hit. Your body trembling, wishing you could see through the pitch black area ahead. 

You arrived at Silver lake only a short time ago, not realizing how much of a mistake this stop in your long journey would be. You only made it a few hours into nightfall trying to observe the town from the far woods when a bunch of men caught you from behind. Now dragging you across the snowy town and making a scene of it. 

“I will KILL you!” Your empty threats made the man dragging your left arm along laugh, causing you to turn your head and give him a nasty look. 

“Hear that, ted?” the mystery man nodded his head to the man on your right, “we caught a feisty one. Know just who’d like this one…” the men disregarded your attempts at kicking, laughing as they went back and forth as if this was just another day. 

You made it to what looked like some sort of run down restaurant, your brain working over time to think of every possible scenario that could happen here. Worst is you’re dead. Best is they feed you, cloth you, and tell you this was all a prank. But you doubt it’s the latter. 

You huff out a small ouch as you’re being thrown into a makeshift jail cell at the back of the place you surveyed earlier, hitting the grown so hard dust particles float in the bright white light casting above you. 

“Don’t move.” the taller man shouts down at you, 

Your eyes roll at the request, “Nowhere to go in here, jackass.” you cross your arms and death glare at him from below. 

“Fucking bitch,” his hand grabs your hair from in between the bars and drags you to it. Your whole body moved to follow his hand, trying to shield yourself from the pinching pain, 

“HEY!, get off her, man. You know they’ve gotta be in one piece.” the other man warns, thankfully giving your scalp a break from the pull. 

“Whatever.” he scoffs, turning to walk out with his buddy. Both of their backs towards you. You slap the cell bars and scream in frustration. Quickly realizing you needed to figure out your next move. You need to stay alive, you need to get the fuck out of here. Your body pushes itself against the wall, head falling back as you begin to silently cry. Nobody here but you and your thoughts for the foreseeable future. Your head falls against the wall, and your eyes close. Forcing yourself into slumber. 

—

Drool begins to dry on your face before you are suddenly awakened by the loud slam of a door. You gasp, waking up and forgetting this is now where you have been staying. A cold, dirty cell floor. You look up quickly and your eyes find a taller man, one you haven't seen before; walking slowly towards you. You instinctively crawl to the further edge of the cell.

“Stay back.” you warned, as if you had any upper hand in this situation. 

“m’sorry to scare you” the strangers hands raise in defense as he stopped walking towards you. “Just wanted to check on you.” He stands with his arms to his side now. Waiting on your next move. 

“Check on me?” you begin, voice dripping with malice. “I was just kidnapped and thrown into this fucking cell.” his eyes follow your body as you kneel to stand up. Wiping down your pants to get the dust off. Fully standing, now closer to his height. 

His face is flat and stern as he begins to observe how you are acting. Deeply in his own thoughts as he looks down at the ground, only to be brought back by your incessant nagging, 

“HELLO! Can you even hear me?” 

“I want to help you” 

You’re confused by his bold statement, but accept his help by nodding slowly as you walk towards him in your cell.

“You’re not leaving this cell until they think you’re calm enough…and you’re not leaving this town. At least not alive, I’m sorry.” 

“What does that even mean? What do you guys even want from me?” 

“It’s not the right time.” the man turns on his heels and begins walking out, leaving you more pissed than you originally were.

“Please, please don’t leave yet!” you whined,

He turns his head over his shoulder slightly to acknowledge your plea, his back still to you.There is a comfortable silence until he breaks it, “What’s your name?” 

You go back and forth with yourself for a little while, wondering if you should be honest. You have to get out of here, and maybe he is your best bet. If you play nice with him, maybe you can bring his guard down enough to get released and escape. You’ll play this role for now, and you tell him your name in a silent whisper. 

He nods in acknowledgement, and you throw his question back to him. Another silence looming before he breaks it, 

“Joel.” 

—

It’s been hours.

The metallic clang echoed through the dimly lit room as a new man fumbled with rusty keys. You squinted at the sudden sound as he swung the creaking cell door open. His average figure standing at the opening of your cell, beckoning you to come with him.  

“About time," you muttered, rubbing your eyes and standing up.

The man flashed a wry smile, his reddish beard framing weathered features. "Apologies for the delay. We don't get many visitors here in Silver Lake, and security is tight." 

You stay silent as you give him a shy smile. Following him out of the room, and close on his trail as you walk an appropriate distance away from him as he brings you outside. It’s an oddly calm vibe, and you begin to overthink. Is this your chance to run, he’s giving you so much freedom…would he be able to even catch you? He does look kind of older, skinner than the other men you’ve had the pleasure of interacting with. As if he reads your mind, he breaks your thought pattern, 

“Sorry about my guards. They can be protective of this place.” he eyes your bruises, 

“What is this place?”

The man gestured for you to follow again as he led you through town. "Silver Lake is more than just a town. It's a haven for those who survived the apocalypse, a place where people from different walks of life came together to rebuild what was lost."

As you walked, you noticed families huddled in makeshift homes, the sounds of children playing echoing through the air. The aroma of cooking wafted from a communal kitchen, and people greeted you with nods as you both passed.

"It's been a tough journey, but we've managed to create something special here," the man continued. "We have families, we have friends, we’re a community"

“A community that throws people into dark dungeons and leaves them there for days?” you bite back, causing him to stop in his tracks, turning to you. 

“I am very sorry about that. Let’s start over.” he holds his hand out for you to shake, “I’m David. And who might you be?” 

You give him a funny look, face scrunching in disgust, not wanting to do whatever this is. But you remember what Joel had told you. Remember your plan to play along. 

You shook his hand and told him your name, earning a smile from him, “It’s very nice to meet you.” 

The air was thick with a sense of uncertainty the rest of the walk. You both ended up at a rather small house, the look of it just like every single other one. As you approached the house, the wooden boards creaked beneath your feet. The windows, covered with tattered curtains, revealed only glimpses of the dim interior. A sturdy figure with a graying beard stood on the porch, his eyes scrutinizing the surroundings.

"David," Joel called out, a tight smile breaking through the gruff exterior. "Wasn’t expectin’ you so soon." 

“Thought I’d bring her here, have her rest up by you. Get acclimated to the community.” 

You’re confused by David’s words. Was Joel one of his guards? Like the other two men who had caught you? You have so many questions you wanted to ask, but you were insecure. Didn’t know if these were people you could really trust or not, and you just wanted to make it out of here. You had to push through, had to endure whatever the hell this was. Just until you were able to make it out. 

David begins to introduce you both, but Joel raises his hand stopping David’s words– “We’ve met.” 

David looks at Joel in a peculiar way, a way you couldn’t quite decipher yet. Then back at you, grinning widely, “Glad you’re taking this so well, Joel.” he walks back off down the stairs, turning back just once to shout, “You’re in good hands!” 

You sway back and forth slowly, hands crossing over the other as your gaze is glued to the ground. You don’t know what to think, what to do, what to say…

“You can come in.” 

—

You’ve been sitting in silence for the past 30 minutes while Joel is simmering something on the stove. His kitchen table is small, and placed in the corner of his modest sized kitchen. It all looks so..normal. So much like how it was before. You watch Joel as he stirs the big pot, banging the spoon handle on the side to watch the sauce drip back down into the pot. He brings the spoon back down onto the counter, turning towards you to sit. You rip your gaze away from him, pretending you haven’t been observing his every move.

“You’re nervous?” His voice is soft. He is still standing at this point, noticing you flinch as he goes to sit. You get the feeling he isn’t bad…but at this point, you don’t know what to think. You look up at him, biting your lip as you stay silent. 

“m’not gonna hurt you.” he reminds you. Joel grabs a cup from his counter, turning on the faucet and pouring you water. Water. You haven’t seen a stable source of water in…oh god it’s been long. 

Joel takes note of the glint in your eyes as he pours you a cup, taking a deep breath in relief. Seeing you nervous only makes the seed of guilt in his stomach grow. The soft look of fear you’ve had plastered on your face since he’s seen you makes him angry. You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t have to do this. 

“Here.” He sets the water down in front of you, sitting in the seat next to you. 

Fuck this. Fuck him. They hold you hostage then offer you food and water? This shit doesn’t feel right. Your whole body turns away from him. Pushing the glass further from you as you pout. 

“Drink.” 

“No.”  

“Now.

The growl in his voice startles you. For someone who swears they aren’t going to hurt you, it feels a hell of a lot like he is. Your eyes find his, now dark with a scowl on his face. 

“I’m not gonna tell ya again, girl.” 

You scoff.

“What…you’re gonna force me?” 

“f’i have to.” 

“Then go ahead.” 

You hear him grumble to himself, words that resemble “fucking stubborn.” as he pushes out his chair, pushing it back in roughly. He slams a bowl down on the counter, causing you to gasp. You watch as he scoops a few spoonfuls of food into the bowl, turning abruptly to slam it down in front of you. Rushing off after he does. Leaving you to ponder your own thoughts. You’re looking down at the steamy bowl of what looks like a stew as you hear the front door slam open and closed. He’s left you. Has he gone to tell David about your interaction? Shit. You should have listened to him, you wanted to play this smart. Now for all you know this will be the last bowl of food you’ll have in a while. Will they bring you back down to the cell? Your thoughts frighten you into eating scoops of the food, taking huge gulps of water. Your belly burns from the nutrients you’ve been neglecting yourself for weeks. You sip the last remnants of liquid from the bowl and get up to set it down into the sink. With Joel gone, you were free to roam the house. But you just felt like a scared little mouse, too afraid to disturb anything not familiar. 

You’ve decided against your better judgment to take a look at the place. Just until someone eventually comes back to take you away. 

You look around the living room first, a small brown couch, enough to fit three bodies comfortably sits directly across from a fireplace. A mantle with nothing but dust lays atop of the fireplace, not homey at all. You inspect the room, finding nothing that tells you about the man who left you here. You decide to move on. 

There are 4 stairs that lead up into what looks like a small wing of the house, the last square footage you have left to survey. To your left, a small bathroom. A large tub, one that reminds you of yours from home. Bubble baths and candle lit nights fog your memory. You surprise yourself as you feel water run down your eyes. Tears. Shit. This is all too much. 

Just a few feet down, there’s an empty room with nothing but the sunlight of the open window shining through. Directly across, there’s another room. You break through that doorway and find a bed, a nightstand, and what looks to be a 6 drawer dresser filling the room. So empty, yet you wonder how he lives. You walk towards the drawers, opening up the top left one to find a few pairs of flannels. Of course. You open the top right and find it empty. He must travel light. 

You get bored and begin walking to the bed, sitting atop of it to feel how soft the sheets are. You haven’t sat down on a bed in forever. So comfortable. The sheets stretched over the bed softer than you remember sheets being. The pillows are fluffier than you ever felt. The blanket is so warm…so…inviting. Your body does it before your brain thinks of it. Crawls under the covers. Your head hits the soft pillow, and you feel your eyes closing and your brain settling down. Your shoulders relax into the mattress, and your breathing evens out. You’re gone before you know it. 

…You feel a thump on the bed that startles you awake, darkness engrosses the room and you thrash in bed to find your bearings. 

“Joel?” you rub your eyes and see him standing in front of the bed, you look down to see fresh clothes lying next to you. 

“Take a shower. We got somewhere to be.”

—

You are trying to catch up to Joel as he’s walking ahead of you, “Slow down!” you shouted to him, stumbling over your feet as you grabbed his arm to stay up.

“We’re already late,” 

“For what?” 

He huffs, but begins walking slower for you. Both of you now silently walk into the same restaurant you were kept at just a day ago. Your body goes rigid as you think of all the things that will happen. You fucked up. You did this to yourself, you didn’t follow the—your thoughts pause as you see the place crawling with people. Like a huge get together, chatter and laughs bounce off the walls. It’s so…alive. 

The crowd of people part, and all eyes are now on you and Joel. David at the forefront of the room. “Welcome, Welcome! We’ve been waiting for you two.” he laughs as he walks past the sea of people to you both, grabbing onto Joel’s shoulder and smiling widely,  “Hopefully you were late for a fun reason,” he winks at you two and you shudder, what the fuck was this guy assuming? You rip your hand off Joel’s arm, patting down your dress and making note of all the faces in the room. Your eyes catch the two men from your capture, hand and hand with ladies. How the hell did they land those girls? They were absolute dicks to you. But as you rip those men apart in your head, you notice everyone is coupled up. Kids in the mix as well. Maybe the community wasn’t terrible…seems family oriented at least. 

You follow Joel to the front of the room, wanting to stick by him and not venture off too far. He seemed to be a rigid asshole sometimes, but he was an asshole that didn’t hurt you yet. You stand close to him, arms bumping as you look up at him. He looks down at you, smiling with his eyes turned down, a worried look etched on his face. Maybe he was as anxious at public events as you were. 

“Please, everyone welcome our newcomer into silver lake!” David introduced you by name to the room, the whole room saying hello directly towards you in a cult like manner. 

“Uh–Hi everyone?” you stuttered, heart beating so fast the pounding began to overtake your hearing. 

David’s speech began again, mentioning new updates and new hunts their men had succeeded at. You zoned out again, only brought back to the present by Joel nudging you gently, your head batting to look towards David who had beckoned you to stand on the other side of Joel, sandwiched between the two men. You smiled and nodded, doing as you were told for this one instance. Put on the spot as you got comfortable in your new position, David called upon you, 

“She has been a wonder, ladies and gentlemen. An absolute prize. That’s why I think we should all welcome her with open arms.”

You stood by David's side, feeling the curious eyes of the community upon you. Joel, a stern figure with a rugged exterior, stood nearby. The unease in the room was palpable as David continued his introduction.

"And this, my friends, is a crucial time for us. Unity is our strength, and it's my pleasure to announce that we have a new bond to forge. In the days to come, our friend here will be joining hands with Joel."

Your heart skipped a beat, panic creeping into every fiber of your being. You exchanged a wary glance with Joel, whose expression remained stoic. David's words echoed in your ears like an impending storm.

"Joel," David continued, "our only hermetic guard, will stand as a pillar of strength for our newcomer. Together, they will contribute to the resilience of Silver Lake and ensure the prosperity of our community."

A lump in your throat formed, the weight of the announcement settling in. Arranged marriage—a relic of a bygone era—now thrust upon you in the midst of survival. Your eyes darted between David and Joel, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

"Survival often demands sacrifices," David said, his tone filled with conviction. "And in this new chapter, we come together to build a stronger, more resilient future."

The room buzzed with whispers, but you could only hear the thudding of your own heart. Joel's gaze met yours, and you saw a glimmer of understanding in his eyes, as if he, too, had been thrust into this against his will.

As the community welcomed you both with a mix of cheers and polite applause, you felt the walls closing in. The air grew heavier, and your breaths quickened. This was worse than the cell. This was worse than your impending death. This was something you could have never seen coming. 

As David's words lingered in the air, a suffocating tension settled over the room. The weight of the announcement hung over you like a dark cloud, and you couldn't bear the collective gaze of the community any longer. Without a word, you turned on your heels and bolted from the room, breaths coming in erratic gasps.

The cold night air hit you as you stumbled into the open, the dim glow of lanterns casting long shadows over the uneven ground. Panic gripped you like a vise, and you ran blindly through the narrow pathways, seeking solace in the darkness.

"Wait!" Joel's voice echoed behind, his footsteps closing in. You refused to stop, the desperation to escape overwhelming reason. But he caught up, his hand gently gripping your shoulder. "Stop."

You whirled around, chest heaving, eyes wide with fear. "I can't do this, Joel."

He stepped closer, his gaze softening. "None of us asked for this. But we're survivors, and sometimes survival means making tough choices."

You shook your head, the panic escalating. "I won't be someone's pawn. I won't let them control my life."

Joel's expression softened, and he pulled you into a hesitant embrace. "Shh, babygirl, calm down. Running won't change anything."

The unexpected term of endearment caught you off guard, but the gentleness in his voice began to chip away at the walls of panic. You trembled against him, the tension in your body slowly dissipating.

"We can figure this out," he murmured, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. "You're not alone here. We'll find a way out. Told ya I wouldn’t hurt ya."

You took a shaky breath, the warmth of his embrace offering a strange comfort in the midst of chaos. The reality of your shared predicament began to sink in, and you reluctantly nodded. "I don't want this, Joel.."

He pulled back slightly, locking eyes with you. "I know. You gotta smarten up if you want to survive. No more being stubborn."

You wipe your tears from your cheeks, sniffling as you nod at him. “Okay.” 

“If we want to get out of this together. There are some rules ya gotta follow.” Joel began, surprising you with how fast the gentleness in his tone shifted into something more stern…

“This is not a fairy tale. It's about survival. Our survival."

You nodded, a bitter taste settling in your mouth. The harsh truth of your situation echoed in Joel's words.

"First rule," he continued, his eyes piercing through the darkness. "We stick together. There's safety in numbers, and in this world, trust is a luxury we can't afford. You stay close, and you follow my lead."

You swallowed hard, the gravity of the arrangement sinking in. "Fine," you mumbled, my defiance momentarily subdued.

"Second rule," Joel continued, unfazed. "We present a united front. Whether you like it or not, we're bound by this arrangement. Any sign of discord, and it puts both of us at risk. We can't afford internal conflicts."

You bristled at the demand,  frustration bubbling to the surface. "I didn't sign up for this, Joel. I won't be some indentured servant."

He narrowed his eyes, his patience wearing thin. "You're not the only one dealing with shit. I won’t touch you, I won’t make you any kind of servant. You follow my rules, and you don’t fuck with our chance at getting out. Understand me?"

Reluctantly, you nodded, conceding to the harsh reality that enveloped you.

“I said, do you understand me?” he repeats, expecting an answer from you. 

“I understand,” you whispered to him, lips curving down as you felt tears swell in your eyes.

You met his gaze, defiance flickering. "I won't play house just to appease the crowd."

He sighed, the weariness in his eyes suggesting a history of battles fought and lost. "You don't have to like it, but you have to do it. It's the only way we make it out of this mess alive."

As Joel's rules echoed in the silence that followed, you couldn't shake the feeling that your autonomy had been sacrificed on the altar of survival.

taglist - @joeldjarin @love-affair-with-fandoms @punkshort @movievillainess721 @fragilefable

[regularconvexheadcanons]

okaokayokay hELLO IT IS SCULK!SCAR ANON HERE AGAIN TO BRING YOU ANOTHER IDEA

Hear me out Hear me Out Hear Me Out

Scar first being from tcd and having the Worst chance of getting out of the server because all tech-ways had been damaged and broken beyond repair and knowledge for Scar to even try to figure out and the last resort being literally dying except his chance of his player self being wiped and becoming another mindless dead in the infected and *quarantined* server eventually burning a survival instinct in him he'll never be free from

And imagine the type of Feralness Scar has on Kingdomcraft before they're taken to Hermitcraft- all feral swipes and swings and flying fists that Do hit their targets no matter how sloppy it looks because he Has to be Good he Has to show he's not easy to take down he Has to prove hes capable- the few groups of survivors he'd been in- they didn't take kind to broken bones or someone suddenly unable to be as productive as before

And he works it all out in the most cathartic way imaginable - by fighting the other server members of course who aren't trying to harm but *spar* but *play* but *care* but *trust his ability*

But when Scars taken to the life games? When hes mellowed out, vexed, and certainly has a charm for tv?

They underestimate him

And at first it drives his need to be useful in the games, he wants to be a good friend right? Pranks and deals that mean nothing and alliances that aren't alliances right? The whole goal is to be the last one standing sillies! Of *course* nothing can be serious, of course you can say sorry, of *course* you're not going to live forever because it's a *game*

And then every game after stacks and stacks and stacks- and Scar can't access who and what he is as a vex by the purpose of being *fair* but maybe just m a y b e he needs to remind his so called friends that the Vex Choose, no one else, and they didn't even change who he was! Just made him left hesitant for what he always had been before they claimed him for their own, who had cooed and hissed and thrown him about after pampering Scar

And so he slips in his old but There and More Trustworthy than everyone else whos ever betrayed him in the series *instinct* and it's all Him

It's only fair he'd think, seeing as they turn the games slowly into something more serious than they were supposed to be, into something that meant actual life or death and they would condemn *him* for treating it like its not? For treating it all as it's truth?

He bites

Scar can't waste good food now can he?

Ooooooh!

I've been meaning to play with the idea of fitting Scar's TCD series into my headcanon (for those who don't know, Scar had a Minecraft series called 'The Crafting Dead' with a zombie apocalypse before Kingdomcraft and then Hermitcraft.)

1: Scar having a faulty communicator or code from TCD? That's such a cool idea, the thought he might glitch into a zombie after dying?

I'd imagine Scar asked Xisuma at some point about his past, and what might happen to him, and he definitely told Cub about everything he'd been through. I want to imagine there was a bit of a glitch in Scar's code because of it in Season 4, but the Vex just completely overrided it (because the Vex basically kill and resurrect players they like to make them vexlings, which would activate and then override any death glitch in some way). And Xisuma told Scar as much in Season 5, after they figured out the vex stuff.

3: Scar getting anxiety about whether he's an 'important assess' to a team, based on experience of TCD groups kicking out, or even killing, hurt players. This works so well as a reason why Scar feels so hurt and perhaps even scared by Grian calling him a bad soulmate after Double Life. Being told he's not good enough, and then pushed to be on his own because of it? It's a fear Scar thought he didn't have to face, and now he's facing it from Grian.

4: the Life Series would so bring back Scar's TCD instincts. And he would so treat it less seriously, and be alright breaking friendships and causing chaos, thinking it's nowhere near as bad. Scar knows the worst of the worst survival situations, and this isn't it. He's happy to play along, let the Vex control his actions a little because this is a safe place with friends.

And the vex push for more. The vex push for him to get fully possessed. They play on the fears they know Scar has, the instincts he has. And even though Grian and the watchers say no, Scar snaps.

His just snaps back into TCD instincts in Secret Life. He's been too soft. He lets himself use all the skills he learnt from TCD, and all the power and ruthlessness of the Vex in the final episode. He gets to win in his own right, by his own skill.

And Cub recognises all of this when the other Hermits describe Scar's behaviour, he always feared Scar was going to return to those instincts one day. And, when Scar's back from his several months of isolation, Cub has to pull him out of that survivor-TCD-mindset and back into happy, Hermitcraft Scar.

[lizaluvsthis]

What If (BR AU): SMG4 lost all of his vision during the arc?

Title: Helping Onwards, Putting Entries Living Each Soul's Sympathy

HOPELESS

Tags: Fluff/Angst/Comfort

Previous Chapter...

Summary: Four with his permanent loss of vision, it's been too difficult for him to manage. But with a help of his crew and someone in particular helped him reach up and discover something new. PART 2/2 COMPLETE

"I'm sorry..." 

Tears streamed down from his face, hiding the soft and quick breaths. This strong and emotional feeling... it was... it wasn't just nothing...

This was something...

A 'thing' he couldn't quite define it.  

But that doesn't matter either way, what matters right now is HIS condition.

"Three?" SMG4 lifted his head, in the feet of shivering from a warm heart inside. His tender for the man gave back a sad look that he could not describe.

It must be so sad... losing visions and not even knowing what Three is giving that face right now...

With no such response, Four's arms leaned forward. Letting go of Three's hand, leisurely reaching for his face. He could feel a light touch of water from his gloves with his right hand caressing Three's cheek.

"You're- are you- are you- crying?" "N-no I'm not you idiot! I wasn't crying! Just- just- something got in my eye..." 

Liar...

SMG4 thought, three wouldn't make up any excuses for that. He was Mostly bad at lying and would call him the "not-so-good-liar" whenever he lied back right in front of his face.

This was different, but he knows how Three acts this way. Even though his eyes are covered with an empty black void of nothingness, he knows SMG3 very well. 

Sure, being linked with the other guardian's emotions was something. But it got him feeling slightly confused about how Three had a blasting fill with mixed emotions when he was with Four.

He doesn't quite get the number on this, why would Three cry? Why would he tho? Honestly, I'm thinking of which. He'd barely even see the man cry at other moments of his life with him.

Not just because of something stupid like- games, or- magazines of Justin Bieber thrown out¿ his other memes lik-

Wait a minute.

"OH- SH-T!" SMG4 Screamed, with his voice bouncing back from the sound of echoes in the room were heard.

"I'M SO SORRY FOR FORGETTING ABOUT TERRANCE- I know how much it hurts losing someone you meant to, a lot."

SMG3 gasped, getting himself pulled out from the chair and held tight from Four's arms hugging him in an uncomfortable position.

Into the front where SMG4 hugged him, Three placed both hands to the sides. Keeping his position stable. "You and Terrance seem so close..." 

The tears had taken him aback, sure Terrance was his assistant. He was like a son to him. But it wasn't the reason that mattered just for it.

"He was my closest child than any other dead memes I've taken care of. Besides with any other children of mine that you killed..." 

SMG3 glared down at the memory Four had done. 

"It's... from the past... I've moved on already like I said." He dropped the subject, in mentions of Terrance. He couldn't bear to remember such painful memories and the fun times he and Terrance made.

But he couldn't blame SMG4 even tho he hated the man so much. "Do you... still hate me?" Four's hands shook, upset with the actions he'd done. 

A long pause holds within the air, contemplating to himself if he would want to tell the truth, but he'd rather shove that marker up his ass if he would too.

SMG4 had been waiting for his response, holding his patience. 

"SMG3?" 

.

..

...

"I don't know." 

When three tried to respond, he couldn't answer straight away. It felt like the words were choking his throat.

Unable to answer the most obvious things...

"What do you-" The man in white and blue spoke that us when suddenly abrupted their conversation.

A nerve-wracking scream from an Italian, barged into the room with a Mario Kart destroying the door.

With Three taking him on the cover, Four hugged himself. He didn't know how to react and if he did, what should he express? In what words will he put?

Four just stayed put, this is all enough for today. Everything that is happening puts a spiral on his head.

How could he- SMG3- protect his rival even tho they aren't enemies anymore? 

Even tho they both hate each other, the nerve of wanting to kill one another, the HATE they both keep gaining. 

But still, these actions that four had caused. Were still permanent from the things that he'd done to damage three.

How- why would SMG3 still help SMG4 after everything…?

“The door was locked.” The fat Italian hopped out of his broken kart, walking towards SMG4. SMG3 lets go of Four before Mario can even react. With each step the man’s footsteps took, Four listened to the sound of how it synched from the heart beating in his chest.

SMG3 took a step back but immediately tugged in hugging them both by Mario himself. “Mario’s-a-glad you both did it! But S-M-G-4…?” He shared glances between the two guardians, then to SMG4. He cupped his glove to Four’s right cheek, looking closer to see those grey eyes reflecting light from the ceiling. 

“I’m alright Mario, you don't have to be worried.” “BUT MARIO SHOULD WORRY!” Smg3 eyed the fat Italian, he was four’s closest friend. A dearest one. When will he ever stop thinking about this jealousy that happens whenever Mario is near him when they’ve been both PRACTICALLY TOGETHER in some ways in a fight?

He didn’t want to keep on pressing buttons. He’ll just play the role that he’ll put through.

As a Meme Guardian with a bond to one another.

“Mario has been worried about you! Thinking if you barely even made it alive but you are! He thinks you could’ve died!” He screamed “MAMA” feeling the words bounce back from the thick walls. “MARIO THINKS YOU DIED AFTER GIVING EVERYTHING FROM YOUR POWER TO SAVE YOUR GAY FRIEND!” He started whining like a baby with his tears bursting out in the corner of his eyes.

Both of the meme guardians winced at Mario’s comment when the mention of ‘gay’ was heard.

“THE HELL? I’M NOT GAY FOR HIM YOU ASS!” SMG3 smacked off Mario’s head making it form into a completely flat folded face, he sat right beside SMG4. He didn’t know what he was doing at all. He never stopped and kept on doing so. (not just because to make sure he was there. It’s to keep him safe, and to remind that he’s already got his back.)

SMG3 covered his chest with both arms, his legs tilted on the other side where he could give foursome space of his own.

Mario is a good person. In some ways when it’s for his friends, he has a kind heart and a soft one when it’s with the ones he loves the most. But he couldn’t handle pain like how Three had dealt it with his way. It pities him.

“I’m okay now Mario like I said, I just lost my vision-” “Just lost? JUST LOST?” He threw out a “MOMA F-CKER” and ranted about what could’ve gotten worse than losing both eyes for sightseeing.

“Alright, red that's enough! Cut SMG4 some slack will you?” Meggy yanked off Mario’s back overall. “He doesn’t want to!!! He needs to be on his friend’s side! AAAA!!!!!” Mario tried to resist but ended up getting pulled out of the room. 

…

And it’s just that. Once again the silence covered the room with thicker ones, both of the boys were far more speechless.

“What- what just happened…” SMG4 asked looking nowhere but upfront, SMG3 sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. “Mario is being the typical again.” SMG3 said with a slight kick of his right foot from the air.

But anyhow. Smg4 is lucky to have a friend like Mario, he knows it’s not much for the red man that could offer any good benefits but does come by very much to hang around with Four. What he’s worst at? No one knows.

If SMG3 were to think after Four has been fully recovered he can go back to the Peach’s castle and probably teach himself how to walk with a stick.

Now that’s a bit improper.

SMG3 thought, if he were to leave four right now they both are going to have such huge complications with each other or more than that- HIS PARTNER IS BLIND. So maybe the option of leaving right after is more of what a d-ckhead would do for a living, he may be a bastard for ruining and destroying Four’s life again and again. But now that he’d changed after giving up? He didn’t even care wherever four goes.

He thought he moved on already but some part of his guts pulled him close to his link. The connection he and his ex-rival shared was a bit of a match and the future’s destiny for them both to protect the universe. How would they both still use their meme energy powers even tho one is blind?

What’s worse? Leaving Four solves all of his problems now that he’s blind? Or literally, stay with him for the rest of his life?

It was an exception for him that he couldn’t even decide with his own choices. How could he, the Hero, be the one who risked his own life to save his mortal enemy?

“It hurts…”

“It hurts…”

“It hurts…”

“It hurts…”

“It hurts…”

“It hurts…”

It hurt him. How could he…? It wasn’t fair at all.

“You could’ve…” SMG3 turned his head to him. “Huh?” SMG4 never quite caught the attention of what Three ever wanted from his life, but now that he has done all that. Saving his eye, almost the result of his dying is a tragic way to think of now that you’d want to consider leaving the blind guy to deal with his own.

“You could’ve just left me out there…”

Four could’ve left three out there, back when Niles almost took out three’s right eye.

“And I didn’t, I saved you.” SMG4 calmly replied, brushing his fingers against the edge of the sheets. “I didn’t want to lose a friend of mine you know? That’s why I had to act it all out.”

“Do you still hate me?” 

He recalled his words.

Despite everything, there were no words left to say in a sentence.

“Three…?” SMG4 wanted to look three in the eyes, but he couldn’t. The man didn’t answer.

“What was the reason?”

—-

SMG3 didn’t think through, he didn't know what words he could say to the man. Why must it be so hard for him to come up with the answer rather than just saying one word? Sure he hated the man for about so long now, but the problem of him is…. 

What exactly was the problem at this point?

Why does he still hate Four? Does he? Yes? No? What is taking him so long to respond?

He doesn’t know, of course,7 he doesn’t know. What else would be a better way to tell him?

“Three, the truth. Now.”

“I-” “I need to know if you still- please…” SMG3 stared at his faded white eyes, something about it made his body tingle in such a sensitive feeling that it wouldn’t let him look away.

Staring back at the man’s eyes just made him shiver, feel guilt, and feel the bottom of his pit hit him the most. 

“Three….?” “I don’t know!” SMG3 cried out loud, both his knees now dropped down fully to the ground. Sobbing relentlessly waiting for what's going to happen next.

SMG4 stayed quiet, he didn’t know what words he could say to him but listened. 

Three moved towards Four while both of his knees were down on the floor, now holding both of Four’s hands.

“I- I hated you since before…. When we were enemies, back when I tried to steal away your videos, back before this happened, and even taking it back from the past. I’m not even sure what to think about it anymore. If I still do or not.”

SMG4 is easy to hate on, his stupid antics, his stupid sh-ts that were tossed again and again, he was just as miserable as Three is. They could never understand each of their signals. It already messed them both up one time, it could have gotten even worse if Four pushed more buttons and double-jointed his trick up his sleeve. 

He can’t blame SMG4 after assuming he’d be doing something wrong during his uprising popularity. He was the bad guy, always has. Why else would Three expect that things are okay now between him and Four even after the stupid cruel things he did to him?

“You were an -sshole, I was a f-cking disaster… I don’t even have any idea what made you still stay close here with me after the things I did…” He spat out the words from his throat, he couldn’t believe the words he was saying out loud in front of him.

Three felt the tears from his eyes wouldn’t go away. He tried to stop this heartbreaking, tried to hold it inside of him yet he failed once again. “But I-I don’t hate you anymore…” Four looked at the man in worry. “I gave up on being evil like I said, I couldn’t blame you for assuming… You still see me the way how you always do.”

“I’ll… never be… good enough…”

Four brushed the tears away with two thumbs softly pressing to his cheeks. “You’re already good enough, to me… To everyone in here isn’t that already enough for you?” He leaned closer, bumping his forehead onto his partner. 

“I may have been a b-tch to you and everything that I did. It was my fault too, not yours only so don’t blame yourself.” he ran both of his arms through his back slowly feeling each other’s breath. 

Three spotted his lips, staring, gazing, and slowly… started to get closer finding an opportunity to kiss his lips. SMG4 could feel his soft lips touching his, the burning sensation, hearts now collided together. The fluttering feeling from his stomach and his heart hammering. Four closed his eyes, seeing imaginative colors whirling yellow, blue, purple, and red  

The combination of blue and Purple made an amazing explosion pulsing of Indigo. 

He loved this feeling, he needed this feeling, they both carved their names to each other’s souls knowing that they belonged together. They finally pulled each other apart after that kiss, it was magical, it was emotional, breathtaking…

Three covered his mouth in shock at what he had just done, it started with making sure the guy was safe then kissing his lips. Does it even matter anymore? What is this strange feeling that wrapped him around? Is this the meaning of love? Did he do it after 8 years of his rivalry with the most important and loving person right in front of him?

To experience the feeling of Love?

Four was too stunned to speak with his mouth open, his eyes were in shock. His cheeks were tinted red, therefore started questioning his life between SMG3 He never thought much of it but now that he does, he was left with so many thoughts about it. 

He never thought falling in love with his arch nemesis was soon to discover each of their tainted mistakes.

“I- I’m sorry- I-I- didn’t know what came over me- Four I can-” SMG4 quirked up his cheeky grin and started giggling, by a low sound of his giggle grew louder. He started tearing up in tears of laughter. “Why are you laughing dumb-ass?!” furrowed eyebrows formed from the man in purple, the confusion on his face says it all. 

Mixed Feelings sent signals to his brain, he now wasn’t sure if Four was even joking around or laughing at him. “Are you making fun of me?” “N-no!” SMG4 flicked a tear from the corner of his eye.

“I was laughing because I never thought you’d also feel the same, it took us more than five more years just to understand…” “Understand what?” SMG3’s body stiffened after four rested both hands on his biceps. “This that we had a falling… both of us falling in love with each other at the worst moments to start.” Four smiled at Three now finally understanding what the man meant.

Three joined in, and both waves of laughter escaped out of the room’s atmosphere. They both are different, but love is always here. Unconditionally giving them strength, growing stronger day by day without even realizing it.

Love may be blind but it couldn’t be hidden. When push came to shove, his heart landed on the Blue man, and he did as well. SMG3 started hugging Four even more tightly. “Thank you…” SMG4 lowered his hand going down to place it to the man’s waist. “I’ll be here, always…. I’ll watch over you, I’ll take care of everything…” 

“Woah now, didn’t expect you had this soft side honestly I wouldn’t mind… wait- taking care of me?” SMG3 placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. “SMG1 told me I should look out and watch over you more often now. I don’t know why or what he meant about that, I wouldn’t mind honestly. At least I get to check up on you.”

SMG4 smiled weakly, he knew something that Three didn’t. 

What images he could describe when SMG1 told Four about what his arm looked like, even when Three is around now that he checks up on Four? He’ll surely know about this sooner or later.

In other ways, he won’t tell him about this just yet. 

“So, does this mean we’re both- uhh… you know?” SMG4 asked while holding Three’s hand. Three smiled back at him. “Yes, we are, unless… You don’t want to?” Three smirked making four roll his eyes now both of them flirting.

“Alright-alright we’re alright now, stop playing with my feelings.” 

-- THE END --

[mochiwrites]

I 100% agree that grian is one of the most loyal lifers, im just genuinely curious how you view/explain double life?

I LOVE being asked this omg okay SO

points to grian's most defining character trait being loyalty. it just doesn't make sense to say the grian cheated when he's literally. so loyal????

that being said, grian did not cheat on scar in double life !!!!!! why? because there was no relationship for grian to cheat on

allow me to explain. it's as simple as neither grian nor scar were ready to be thrown back together when they were in double life. grian, who's still carrying the guilt of killing scar in third life (because he has the world's biggest guilt complex), and scar, who had an incredibly rough time in the previous game. neither of them were prepared to be in each other's orbit as soulmates because neither of them had healed from the past two games

looking at grian first, we saw how destroyed grian was at the end of third life after killing scar. he was upset and guilty, to the point that he took his own life

and then we move to last life, where grian avoided teaming with scar, and stayed away from scar. why? so that grian couldn't hurt him, so that grian couldn't kill him. and yeah you can point out that grian and joel threatened scar to get some lives out of him but grian is pleading with scar the entire time to stop running, he doesn't want to kill him, etc etc

being teamed with scar for double life, literally having their souls connected, is like a nightmare for grian because he's so worried about being the reason why scar dies again. yet he's drawn to scar anyway because he loves him (and vice versa)

as for scar... well... he's starting double life fresh out of last life, where he spent majority of the season alone and taken advantage of. he's isolated and lonely, and he really doesn't have any true allies to lean on. he's backstabbed and left to rot. he went from having grian at his side, this strong relationship, to suddenly having nothing but the cold winter mountain top and people using him for what he has… and now they’re suddenly forced together again when they’re not ready for that

and scar didn't even want his soulmate !!! he didn't care about finding them, seemingly happy to settle down in the jungle with the jellie pandas. he didn't want an alliance, because some of that winter chill from last life was still there and he couldn't handle the risk of being left alone again. he didn't stay with grian until grian pleaded with him to stay

but they're forced together by fate and now they exist in the same space, falling into old habits (kind of), but there's still this separation between the two of them. there's still this distance that neither of them are willing to cross simply because they aren't ready

there's no relationship in double life, just two hurting people who haven't healed, and who aren't ready to heal together just yet. as for grian's thing with bigb, it was just an alliance. he got extra resources for himself and scar, and I take him keeping it a secret from scar simply as a refusal to communicate

NOW DO I THINK THAT'S HEALTHY... no. there's definitely some communication issues going on between the two of them. grian keeps pushing scar away because of his fear of hurting him, scar keeps distancing himself because of his fear of being hurt. neither of them handled it particularly well

but not once did grian betray scar. grian never plotted against him, never actively stabbed him in the back, none of that. everything grian did was to keep both himself and scar alive