#do nothing and kill five people or act and kill one.

[itsabouttimex2]

Do you think that Tang Sanzang was abusive? I see it in the fandom a lot and it’s pretty contentious

The reason people think that LMK!Sanzang is abusive is because the circlet makes no sense outside the context of Sun Wukong being a borderline supervillain, and using a heavenly restraining bolt (That’s putting it kindly, of course. There’s been comparisons to shock collars, which are unflattering but not entirely unfair. Still, let’s be fair to the intention and not simply the execution of the circlet- it was to keep Wukong from murdering people/running away from the journey.) on someone who has already been punished for his wrongdoings for five full centuries is excessive as best, viciously petty at worst.

Outside of the context of Sun Wukong being a borderline supervillain, I’ll repeat.

I’m going to level right here- I think that in the book, the circlet was entirely justified, and that calling Sanzang an abuser for that is silly. But LMK is not the book, and I think it’s also silly to try and use JTTW-specific writing when people are talking about LMK. What Book!Sun Wukong is not what Show!Sun Wukong did, because the two of them are different characters in different stories. Not only that, but the tone and genre of those stories are wildly different, and I’m so tired of people being willfully ignorant to the fact that LMK is a divergent adaptation.

To start: Sun Wukong did nothing to earn the circlet.

Not in the form of “Sun Wukong has never done anything wrong ever in his life!” but really more so in the form of “Does anything in that picture up above seem wrong to you?”

And if there is something that seems off… good job! You’ve noticed a critical change from book to show!

Among the LMK fandom there’s this misconception that Wukong got the circlet because he assaulted Heaven and tried to take it over, but… no. His punishment for that was being locked under Five Phases Mountain, and then when he was released under the premise of guiding Sanzang, that was it. Punishment over. So, what did Wukong do to “earn” his collaring?

One- Smash a non-threatening tiger’s head into pulp and skin it right in front of Sanzang, then string the fur around himself.

Two- round up six people who are currently not a threat to him and beat them all to death in front of his new master.

Three- admit to his master’s face that he honestly doesn’t even remember how many people he’s killed through his life, without a speck of shame or remorse.

Four: Throw a fit and run away to sulk. I’m not fucking with you- it takes being lectured of all ONE time before he quits and gives up on self-betterment, and has to be talked into rejoining by a draconic king.

In Journey To The West, the Monkey King, well- he’s not that great of a person. In fact, he’s pretty damn bad. And he’s quite blunt about it, too. Old Sun really likes to talk in great detail about how many people he’s killed, eaten, and in general just been an absolute menace to. JTTW!Sun Wukong saw that he needed to convince his master that the girl (actually the White Bone Spirit) he killed was a demon in disguise and decided that the best way to do it was… to level out how many times he had murdered people by transforming into enticing forms.

(Source for content and translation.)

Not a good look for you, buddy.

Under the context of Sun Wukong being able, willing, and quick to murder indiscriminately, oftentimes without explanation or even giving a second thought to alternative options, the circlet as a safeguard makes sense, and Sanzang seems rational to turn to using it because not only is there not really anything else he can do, but because we get to see the Monkey King acting like someone who needs a torture circlet to keep him in check, we give him more slack for doing it.

That’s important!

If (Char A) is going to string (Char B) up with a divine shock collar but still be someone we sympathize and agree with, then (Char A) needs to have a very good reason to do it.

JTTW!Sun Wukong has that reason.

He kills people. He kills people for fun, for food, for pissing him off, for causing him trouble.

But LMK!Sun Wukong is not a killer, he’s not a cannibal, and he’s certainly not the threat that his book counterpart ever was.

When this doesn’t earn you a collar?

When butchering and serving up mortals to a horde of hungry demons more than a mile long doesn’t get you the collar, but leading a bloodless siege on Heaven does?

And speaking of blood!

Here is only one shot of the literal mountains of death that Sha Wujing built! He murdered hundreds, maybe thousands of people! And he was still going for more!

When this doesn’t get you a collar? When murder and butchery and the eating of mortals doesn’t get you a collar? When mountains of death don’t get you a collar?

But this does?

Well. That makes Heaven seem a little less reasonable.

Now, this isn’t me saying Wukong should’ve been let off the hook for trying to take over an entire realm, nor be given an immediate pass for ransacking the heavens! He caused trouble, stole things, and made a mess of the whole place! And then he led a siege against it!

No, this is me saying that the writing has accidentally predisposed the audience to think of the Celestial Realm as sort of. Well. Biased to themselves. And that could work, if the show was willing to explore it!

Is a realm’s first duty to itself, regardless of how bad things are down below? It is just incredibly hard to maintain protection of a mortal realm when it’s so much wider and more expansive than their own? Do they question if deities should even be expected to involve themselves in the lives of mortals? Do they think it’s wrong to interfere in mortal affairs? Is there a vague non-interference clause to prevent both good and evil from tipping the scales? Do they literally just not have time to help more than by the bare minimum because their heavenly duties keep them busy?

That sort of exploration could easily lean to people sympathizing with them; and thus by extension the very monk who carries out their will by journeying with his disciples, but they don’t.

In general the Celestial Realm is entirely predisposed to their own (mostly) idyllic happenings, and every time we go there it’s populated with generic armored jobbers or copy-pasted background NPCs… when it’s not gapingly empty and bare.

When the Celestial Realm legitimately is incompetent, faceless, empty, and weak? It accidentally lends sympathy to the Azure Lion’s cause by kind of… proving him right?

So not only does the Brotherhood’s act of rebellion seem less bad by manner of nearly emptying the Celestial Realm of competent/sympathetic figures, it also seems almost justified. All we ever see these guys do is stuff their faces, lose their fights, stand around doing nothing, or fuck around in heavenly leisure while the realm below is inundated with demonic threats that they never interfere to help with!

If it hadn’t been for the “Actually Azure was delusional all along and also the Jade Emperor’s power isn’t made for him!!” twist then really, what exactly is so bad about someone saying “This realm has lounged in luxury long enough!” and then deciding to take it over to help the little guys who are getting eaten by the dozens?

(I mean, just take Azure and replace him with someone like MK, with the same justification and goal, and you can imagine a lot of the fanbase agreeing, right?)

(Even Nezha, much as I adore him, only gets involved when his realm is involved first, not out of the desire to protect innocent life!)

So, when you cut away almost all of the bad things that Sun Wukong has done, accidentally make the rebellion he was partaking in seem legitimately fair by making the target incompetent, strip away the methods by which Wukong establishes his character to Sanzang that justify his willingness to use a divine implement of torture, make two of his brothers worse in comparison without giving them equal methods of restraint?

Well. The intention might not have been for him to be abusive, and I think intentions are important to keep in mind!

This is clearly not meant to be a victim of abuse. Sun Wukong’s love for his master and brothers is played entirely straight. He’s supposed to be uplifted and bettered by his relationship with them. He adores and loves and misses them.

But it’s not wrong to feel iffy about the execution, either.

Because the writers did take out all the justification behind Wukong getting his circlet. They did have Sanzang snap the circlet onto Wukong before the monkey got a chance to make any mistakes, essentially stringing him from one punishment into the next without giving him a chance to see that the first punishment has changed or helped him grow. They did make his brothers far more violent and deadly than him and not address that.

And it’s not wrong to have a worse view of Tang Sanzang as a result of that! It’s not wrong to have a negative perspective of the monk when you look at his actions from an LMK perspective, because LMK!Sanzang is NOT the same as JTTW!Sanzang, and he simply does not have the same justifications behind his actions that the book version does.

I don’t think he was abusive, at least. But I also wouldn’t blame someone for having a negative view of him.

TLDR: Intentions good, execution somewhat iffy.

[nientedal]

What progress at home has biden enacted? What policies of his show that he is making progress that prove he is actually different than trump?

I like to pretend I have faith in humanity, so I'll answer as if you're asking this in good faith.

Biden's DEA has lifted restrictions on telehealth prescriptions to make appointments and assistance more accessible.

He put a funding package into place to help unhoused people get access to mental and physical healthcare, as well as short-term and long-term housing.

He has attempted and is still attempting to get student debt relief through - this was blocked by Republican judges appointed by Trump, but he's still working on it.

Infrastructure repair - his administration has budgeted funds to actually fix some severely-damaged and frequently-traveled bridges.

Trying to expand access to healthcare to include undocumented immigrants who came to the USA as children (Dreamers) under the Affordable Care Act. Support for Navigator programs and outreach has also been increased.

He has vetoed Republican-led bills that were attempting to overturn environmental protections - one that would have forbidden investment fund managers to consider climate change in their portfolios (I have two degrees in accounting and this is actually huge), and another that would have overturned restrictions on agricultural runoff into our waterways.

He and his administration worked for ages to get rail workers paid sick days.

This is just some of what he's been doing. Meanwhile, Trump and other Republicans want to criminalize the lives of LGBT people like you and me. They want to eliminate no-fault divorce and force births that will kill parents or devastate them financially. They have stated flat out that they want to install a military dictatorship in the USA. They attempted to put that in motion on January 6th, 2021. They failed once. They will do better next time.

One party wants to house the homeless and expand social safety nets, while the other one wants to criminalize homelessness. One of them wants a future in which I might be able to vote to change how much of a war machine my country is, while the other one wants to eliminate my ability to vote entirely. Those are not the same. Those literally are opposites.

At the end of the day, all you and I can do is choose to do the least amount of harm possible. You and I cannot choose to do no harm. This is the USA, we sell war, you and I cannot choose to do no harm. I wish we could, my god do I wish we could, but that is not an option. So we grieve for the harm we couldn't eliminate and work to minimize the harm that is done. Despite all the crap they support, Democrats are the minimum amount of harm right now. Acting like they aren't is exactly what brought us to an election where our options are a future where we are either wading in blood or drowning in it.

Not voting for Biden will not help Palestine. Not voting for Biden will guarantee a Republican president who will make the situation in Palestine WORSE. AND it'll hurt a lot of other places as well, both at home and abroad, because Republicans are about business and the USA is in the business of war! And I would very much like that to change someday! I would very much like to someday be able to choose to do no harm! And I know what I have to do to try for that future, so what are YOU going to do? There is no standing off to the side in this. If you aren't helping pull, you're the dead weight we're pulling. Are you going to dig your feet into the mud and blood and drown us there? Or are you going to get the fuck off your ass, grit your teeth, and help us pull free?

[homunculus-argument]

If I had more money than I'd ever spend in a lifetime, I'd spend my life operating a pizzeria at a loss. Something with the slogan of "it ain't italian but you're hungry" - and a statement of how this is not authentic italian pizza because the owner's estranged aunt's italian ex-husband would not serve pizza in his italian restaurant because as far as he was concerned, a pizza is the "just throw that shit together" dish that you make out of leftovers, and he would not serve that to paying customers even if they wanted it. True story btw.

But I'd just like to run a place where the staff is allowed to tell rude customers to fuck off. And if they're scared to do that, they can summon me downstairs to do it myself (this fantasy involves having my own apartment upstairs of the restaurant), because you don't fucking disrespect my staff like that. Develop a reputation as a place where You'd Better Act Yourself or you get nothing, which elevates the quality of the food in peoples' minds because it's human to assume that more work=more worth, and if a pizza place can afford to simply throw rude customers out, that clearly must mean that the food is just that good that going back is worth it anyway.

Hiring enough people to get the work done in a leisurely pace and occasionally have the time to chat with each other or customers. You just do the job I gave you in the time I gave you, don't steal anything and don't watch porn off your phone anywhere where the customers can see you, you're good. Don't care if you quit school at 16 if you can still mop floor. Don't care if you've been to prison because you killed some guy, as long as you're not doing that here. Don't care if you deal drugs on your free time as long as you don't bring your business to your day job. This place is exclusively for pizza business.

Have an item on the menu called "random pizza" - and if you order that one, they'll just throw in a mix of whatever ingredients we've got too much of, like if the bell peppers gotta be used before they go bad, every single random pizza is going to have them until they're either gone or need to get tossed. If you've got dietary restrictions or allergies, you gotta specify that while ordering, because other than that, random pizza is just whatever ingredients we need to get rid of. Surplus ingredients du jour.

Building a reputation as a place that's somehow simultaneously sketchy as hell but also remarkably high quality, getting five star restaurant customer service from a waiter with blue hair and stick-n-poke tattoos, there's a homeless guy at the back of the kitchen eating an order that nobody picked up, every surface is spotless and no matter how important of a suit-and-tie you are, if you won't behave yourself the owner will personally physically fight you.

[verxca]

Imagine Jason being so soft and sweet and clingy with you that when his siblings see him in a store with you they have to do a double take. It would be extra funny if his family didn't know about you yet xD

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ [ imagine #04 ]

[ j. todd ft d. grayson ] ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

── . ✦ in which dick spots something very unusual from his brother at the grocery store.

Late night grocery trips were preferable to Dick for two primary reasons; One, being as the stores were usually less busy, meaning less people would spot him. And two, crime was typically preformed at night here in Gotham, meaning he could keep an extra eye out. It was like killing three birds with one stone!

Turning the corner, Dick hummed a random tune to himself upon entering another produce isle. He was just here to pick up some cereal and butter, nothing too important. As he leaned down to grab what he needed, a friendly couple entered the isle from the other side— giggling and holding hands.

Not wanting to seem nosy or rude, he didn’t stare, still scanning to find the brand he liked.

“Nope- All they do is knock shit over, claw your back, and piss all over the fucking furniture.” The guys voice from across the aisle sounded familiar, a little too familiar— almost like his brother Jason’s. But he ruled that one out quickly… It was obvious that the dude and Jay acted completely different. Though, the mysterious guy did sound like one of his old friends from high school. Maybe it was him— Damn, how long had it been? What a coincidence to see him here!

Dick looked up— fully expecting to run into an old friend. Yet, the realization of his mistake came crashing down like a punch to the gut as the boyfriend moved his face into view, eyes still glued down to his girl. Oh, it was Jason! What was he doing here at this hour? Dick chuckled, looking back down before snapping his neck up for maybe the fourth time.

Wait— that was Jason?

“But, like- Same for dogs! You have to walk them twenty times a week, and pick up their shit too. No animals are easy to care for, but cats are definitely easier!” You argued with your boyfriend, squeezing his hand to try and enforce your point.

You two had been dating for a good couple months now, but still, Jay was ever so reluctant to get an animal! Every time you brought it up, he’d make the same five points. “Kay- That’s fair, babe, but-”

Jay teased once more, laughing as you tried to protest. Fuck, was it ever cute when you got all defensive like that. It was definitely Jason’s guilty pleasure, and he couldn’t help but tease you when the opportunity was in front of him— practically begging to be taken. Jay quickly leaned down for quick kiss, hands moving to your waist. He hadn’t even realized the two of you weren’t alone in the aisle, nor that the other person here was his brother.

You couldn’t help but just melt into your boyfriend’s touch as he kissed you— moving his lips down your jaw and neck. Your hands steadied on his abdomen, as he lavished your collar in desperate affection.

“Holy fuck.”

Dick was completely in shock. Jason was not only acting clingy with someone— completely vulnerable and desperate, but was also with a god forsaken secret girlfriend he had never told anyone about! It showed in the way he kissed the girl’s neck, and in the way he held her tight, that Jay was in love. But still, was this all some fucking witchcraft? How in gods name did someone get him to open up and act all lovey-dovey like that?

He didn’t know what to do, but sure as hell didn’t want to get caught. Dick slipped out of the asile, your collective giggles still faintly audible as he entered the parallel row. He was debating on taking a photo or not… but he didn’t want to invade the girl’s privacy.

Instead, he made a mental note of the encounter, checking out and leaving, already picturing the faces of his family when he’d bring it up at the next dinner.

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

Working at a restaurant with 141 (pt. 4)

You thought it was a mistake when someone called in reserving a party of 14 for a birthday. The voice on the other line assures you it is not, and that they'll be arriving at 7pm. You inform everyone.

"Who wid want a birthday in this shithole?"

Johnny gaffaued, spraying down some dishes.

"Probably just a prank call."

Kyle replied, arms wrapped around your waist and head resting on your shoulders. But it wasn't a prank call. The first half of the party arrive and you and Gaz have to scramble to push tables together. It's overwhelming, everyone is talking all at once, demanding things left and right. Gaz swoops in to help deal with one half the table while you the other. The food comes out, leaving you to be able to sit in the back for a few minutes, talking to the guys about nothing. Walking back out, some older man was snapping his fingers at you, waving his arms as if they weren't the only fucking people in the joint.

"Steaks burnt to hell, remake it."

He slides the plate to you, making you catch it before it falls off the side of the table. You apologize profusely and send it back to the kitchen. Price raises an eyebrow,

"Looks fine to me."

He stares at the piece of charcoal on the plate.

"Fucks sake, lemme do it."

Simon grabs his shoulder and cooks another steak. You set it down infront of the old man, watching him take a bite. He throws his fork down,

"Still burnt. How hard is it to cook a fucking steak?"

You look at the plate, meats still pink in the middle. Apologize again and offer to remake it.

"No, don't bother. Jesus."

He stares daggers into you. You wring your hands nervously.

"Actually, everyone's food was shit. None of us should have to pay for this."

Your mouth goes dry. You look over your shoulder to meet eyes with Kyle at the bar. He immediately walks over.

"Everything alright?"

He puts on his nicest customer service voice and that charming smile that can melt anyone. Except this asshole apparently.

"No everything is not alright, this was the worst dining experience I've ever had! Everything came out wrong, and it all tastes like shit!"

Spit flies out from the mans mouth. Kyle stands between you and the customer, trying to diffuse the situation. And much to your horror, one by one, the table starts to leave. You try to say something but they ignore you.

"Go get Johnny."

You run back, trying to act casual in front of Simon and John while tugging Johnny by the sleeve. He looks down, concerned.

He's on the floor before you can finish telling him what happened,

"Ye'r gonnae have tae pay sir."

His tone is more firm than Gaz, arms crossed and looking down at the old man. You're almost in tears as you watch more of the table file out the door, you turn back to look at Gaz. He frowns, furious. There's a heated argument at the table, the old man is yelling now. Not at Kyle or Johnny, but the only person he wasn't afraid of; you. The commotion makes John and Simon step out. This idiot is gonna get himself killed. You can see the moment when the customer loses the fight in his eyes. Shuts right up as soon as Simon says,

"Problem?"

Like a fish out of water, all the old man does is open and close his mouth wordlessly.

"Grab the cheque."

You don't know who Simon said that to but you and Soap crash into each other turning around and walking to the POS system. Ghost gently grabs the bill from your shaky hands and shoves it into the customers chest,

"Cash only."

"I don't have cash."

"There's an ATM around the corner."

The old man nearly jumps out of his seat,

"Right. Be right back."

He rushes to the door, Kyle and John follow.

"Oh there's no need-"

"Making sure you don't get lost."

Kyle smiles, eyes dangerous. It's about five minutes when they're back, the old man placing some 20s down before complaining under his breath. Then he gets kicked out,

"I need my change!"

He looks over Johnny's shoulder, looking to you for help. You shrug, arms crossed. When the door closes you sigh, running fingers through your hair

"You alright, darling?"

Gaz asks, voice as sweet as ever, gentle hand on your face. You nod.

~

That evening was pleasant. More than that really. They pampered you, cooed and soothed you as you huffed and sniffled. Ran you a hot bath,

"Poor thing, dinnae deserve tha."

Johnny massaged shampoo into your hair.

"Won't let you stay around next time we deal with something like that again."

Kyle kneaded the tension out your shoulders. John sat you in his lap, brushing hair out of your face while saying sweet nothings. You really do enjoy milking this for all it's worth, sad eyes looking up and huffing like you didn't get over that bullshit as soon as that old man walked out the door.

"Pampered little princess, you know that?"

Simon's lips are pressed up to your neck, just under your ear. You just nod, his words rattling around your brain while you got fucked senseless. You're tired, but the boys promised to coax an orgasm out of you. From each one of them. Then another. Well, you're a trooper, so what's one more round? Showered with soft kisses and praise, a foolish smile is painted across your face in a pleasurable state of stupor; Gosh, aren't you just spoiled rotten?

**sorry if it's short! I am on holiday ( ╥ω╥ )**

[tobiasdrake]

*deep breath* Okay. Here we go.

I don't think the Netflix Avatar show likes women very much. It's a great show for fans of Aang, Sokka, Zuko, and Iroh specifically. All four of those characters get a ton of great material. In fact, it's super great for Sokka stans, because the show takes him ultra-seriously and can't go five minutes without one character or another (usually a woman) praising him.

But the way it handles its female cast is troublesome.

Katara

So, all three of the main trio got some changes made to their stories. They changed Aang's story so that he wasn't running away from his responsibilities; He was just clearing his head and somehow accidentallied himself into a tsunami. Whoopsy-dooodle. Aang did nothing wrong.

They changed Sokka's story so that him being a leader of his people and a great guardian warrior is treated with complete seriousness. Multiple times, characters stop to talk about how brave and noble Sokka is for taking on such an intense responsibility, and tell him to his face what a great warrior and a wonderful leader he is. Also his misogyny is erased.

And they changed Katara's story so that she directly got her mom killed because she sucks at waterbending.

Katara tries to waterbend to attack the Fire Nation soldier but couldn't manage it, provoking the soldier to start actively searching for her and forcing her mom to fake a waterbending attack and draw his fire. They changed Katara's story so that her bad decision making fucking got her mom killed.

This is treated with the same level of severity as "Sokka was bullied by mean kids and also his dad doesn't think he's good enough to be a leader."

"I hoped Sokka would do better but not everyone is meant to have people's lives in their hands," Sokka's dad says of him.

Yeah, you're right, that's totally comparable to watching your mom get barbecued because you tried to waterbend in a situation you shouldn't have and then failed.

In fact, they give Sokka's greatest trauma more weight because it gets examined again with Yue next episode, while Katara actively getting her mom killed isn't brought up again at all. We get traumatized glimpses of it throughout the season leading up to the reveal, but after this scene in episode 5, it never comes up again.

But to be fair, Katara was a child. An event this significant would surely have motivated her, driving her to become the great waterbender she is now, right?

No! Katara sucks at waterbending and needs men who aren't even waterbenders to teach her how to waterbend. She requires instruction from Aang in episode 1 to learn how to waterbend, then from Jet in episode 3 to learn how to waterbend better.

And unlike the show, her relationship with Aang isn't a give-and-take; Katara doesn't teach Aang a single goddamn thing. He never learns to waterbend. She is a strictly a pupil throughout the whole season. Though she at least gets officially labeled a master in episode 8, so there's that.

In any case, the whole traumatic memory thing isn't even the only time she's directly compared with Sokka. Episodes 3 and 4 see Katara and Sokka bicker over whose morally dubious side character is better. Sokka likes the Mechanist and Katara likes Jet.

Ultimately, Katara is forced to eat crow when Jet turns out to be the worst, while Sokka is vindicated when the Mechanist sees the error of his ways and reforms. But not before two separate arguments where Sokka calls Katara childish and accuses her of acting like a little girl.

Arguments ultimately resolved when Katara apologizes to Sokka for not adequately respecting his very serious and ultra important role as village protector and leader. Gives him a whole speech about how great and glorious he is. And Sokka... appreciates Katara learning to respect him properly, I guess, because he never offers any similar sentiments back to her.

The show just... They need you to know how important Sokka is, okay? It's very important that you respect Sokka.

Suki

Suki suffers tremendously from that whole "Sokka's misogyny was removed" thing. Y'know, because they need something else to do with that episode. The show is deeply aware that Suki is Sokka's love interest, so they just do that right off the bat. Suki falls madly in love with him from the moment they meet, and spends the entire episode making goo-goo eyes and trying to get him to Notice Me Senpai.

They still do the "Suki Trains Sokka" stuff. But Sokka is a serious, dignified manly man worthy of the deepest respect now, so of course they don't make him wear the Kyoshi uniform. Instead, the main purpose of his training is to allow them to flirt some more. It's less martial arts training and more an excuse to grope each other and near-kiss.

Suki's just a waifu now. She still fights real good, but all of the stuff that made her relationship with Sokka interesting has been erased.

Yue

Yue, similarly, leaps straight to shipping from the word go. They write out her fiance, Hahn, by having Yue briefly meet Sokka earlier in the season. She spends one minute talking to him in the Spirit World about Spirit World lore; In that time, she falls so desperately, madly, unfathomably in love with him that she breaks off her marriage to Hahn and devotes herself to waiting for him to one day come to her.

"Never have I known such joys as that time you let me explain the spirit bear Hei Bei to you. Truly, we are destined to be together for life."

Like with Suki, they go out of their way to have Yue and Sokka already be a ship from the word 'go' so they don't have to spend time developing any kind of meaningful attraction.

They just. They really want you to know that Sokka is the manliest and most desirable man ever to walk this earth. It is very important that you understand how great he is. Women hurl themselves into his arms with zero effort whatsoever, because he's just so goddamn irresistible.

Fortunately, Hahn is super okay with this turn of events. He's the most chill guy ever, he gets along perfectly well with Sokka, and he completely supports Yue's right to dump him! In the famously misogynistic Northern Water Tribe, no less! What a swell guy. Aren't men swell?

June

June gets hit with that "rewritten as hollow waifu" stick too, but her eyes are set on Iroh. They rewrote June to be super attracted and flirty towards the man who was her unwanted sexual harasser in the source material. So that's fun.

Also, she barely does anything. Zuko hires her to find Aang, she succeeds, and then she fucks right off out of the show - But she manages to find time to express how unbelievably sexy Iroh is twice during that time.

She seriously just dropped into the show to flirt with Iroh and leave. She is unbelievably inconsequential.

Kyoshi

And then there's Kyoshi. They really want you to hate Kyoshi. She's constantly shot from below, as if looking down on Aang and the audience. Her voice takes on a demonic echoing reverb at one point as she's screaming at Aang that "THE AVATAR MUST BE A MERCILESS WARRIOR!!!"

She despises Aang, calling him a coward for running away from his responsibilities - Which, I remind you, is no longer a plot point because they unwrote that flaw from his character. So she's just a complete and utter asshole, shot from the asshole angle, yelling violently at him with asshole sound effects. They want you to despise this woman.

Azula

Awkwardly, they do not seem to want you to despise Azula.

There's a lot to be said for how Ozai treats Azula in the original show. The way the favoritism he shows her is every bit as cruel and manipulative as the unfavoritism that he shows Zuko. Ozai does not love Azula. He loves the reflection of himself he sees in her eyes, and his encouragement urges her to polish herself to ensure his reflection always shines through.

This is not that. The show instead erases the favoritism entirely. Ozai doesn't really care one way or another about either of his kids. He plays them against each other, bragging openly to Azula about how great Zuko is and unpleasably writing Azula off as weak and useless.

They've rewritten the dynamic between abusive father and his two abused kids in order to take Azula's pride away. Reimagining her from a gifted prodigy who excels at imitating the toxic behaviors of a father who doesn't truly care for her, to a put-upon overachiever tearing herself in knots to live up to the standards of her unpleasable father.

This results in a truly wild portrayal of Azula as insecure and jealous of Ozai's seemingly love for Zuko. Here, she is simply a browbeaten child constantly complaining to her friends about how mean her father is and conspiring to get one up over Daddy's Golden Child Zuko.

Which she fails at, because she backs Zhao. Zuko deftly defeats her without even realizing they're in competition.

Conclusion

The season ends well for some of these women. It ends promising that maybe we'll see Katara teaching Aang some day. It ends with Zhao bragging that Ozai just used Zuko to train Azula so maybe we'll see the more confident and misguidedly proud Azula some day. Yue becomes the moon like she's supposed to. June's still out there so maybe she'll get to do something again some day.

Katara gets to fight Pakku and lose, but she looks pretty cool. She gets to fight Zuko and lose, but she looks pretty cool. Azula learns to lightningbend because she's just so mad about Ozai's contempt for her and favoritism for Zuko, which isn't how you lightningbend.

But promises of future content fall flat when the content that exists is so underwhelming. This season made its feelings on these characters pretty evident, and it's unwise to expect better material from creators who've disappointed you with the material they already made.

The women of Netflix Avatar simply do not get to shine, outside of superficial moments like the "Women of Northern Water Tribe demand the right to fight and then fuck off and don't do anything for the entire rest of the episode" bit.

"In the midst of battle, we demand that you stop being sexist and give us permission to fight! This is a way better idea than convincing you to teach us to fight before the battle begins."

The characters of this show feel as if they've been reimagined to glorify the boys at the expense of the girls. The boys are treated with a great amount of care. They're dignified and made important movers of the plot, with their rough edges sanded off. While the girls are molded around them.

[keferon]

Part 4 of Drift/Deadlock and Hot Rods adventure in the mecha au!

Here comes the Sun do do do do- here comes the Sun at Mach five.

———————————————————————

Deadlock needed to kill something. Badly.

He’d kept it together through Ratchets confession. And he kept a relaxed mischievous banter going from the Hangar all the way to Ratchets makeshift clinic. When they finally arrived in Dead En-

The refugee camp. It was called a refugee camp and nothing else.

Deadlock almost transformed in the fragging middle of a refugee camp.

The memory snuck up on him okay?

Ever since he cracked open that one, tiny, memory from before he was Deadlock, pieces of Drift kept floating to the surface.

He gave Ratchet a quick goodbye, saying he needed something to eat. And sped off before the medic could question him.

He needed violence and isolation. Needed to reset his whole damn processor and banging his helm against a hard-organic-stick-thing? Whatever the fuck. Frag? Ugh. It wasn’t working.

He was shaky, couldn’t focus. His chassis felt like it was put inside a vise and someone who hated him had control of the handle.

Ratchet had been a breath of fresh air when Deadlock hadn’t even known he was buried alive. And since then the medic had been stubbornly digging him the rest of the way out.

It. Just felt good.

Being cared for. Being able to relax around someone. And knowing with absolute certainty it wasn’t just an act.

He got used to it. Comfortable with a certain level of vulnerability. Then Ratchet brought in Hot Rod.

If Ratchet was a breeze that slipped inside Deadlocks mental fortress, then Hot Rod was a Fragging bunker busting missile. None of it felt like he deserved it.

Ratchet laid out his spark for judgement. Because Ratchet, amazing and wonderful and impossible Ratchet, didn’t want Deadlock to be stuck with someone like him.

Something shitty inside him whispered, “What if Ratchet doesn’t want to be stuck with someone like him?”

He ignored it. Pushed it down. He didn’t leak coolant over slag like that. He didn’t need people like Ratchet or Hot Rod in his life. He just really, really wanted them in his life. For completely selfish Decepticon-y reasons.

You’d die for them you know.

Shut up.

Deadlock’s processor wouldn’t stop spinning.

He felt exposed.

He felt like slag.

He felt like Drift.

So Deadlock set out to do the most Deadlock thing he could think of.

———————————————————————

Deadlock fucked up.

Deadlock fucked up very badly.

Snow was getting caught in his optics, melting on contact into a slush that made it that much harder to see.

The fragging swarm of quintesson scouts surrounding him were not having that same problem.

They moved in a pack. Smaller and smarter than the standard issue quints that normally devastated the planet, these things unfortunately had a tiny sense of self preservation which made mowing them down that much more difficult.

Deadlock was forced to constantly turn on his peds to avoid the majority of the quints that kept going after his back. There wasn’t a moment he wasn’t beating them off with the stock of his rifle. He couldn’t switch to any close range weapons because if he stopped fighting them off for even a second, the quints would rush him all at once, forcing him to continue.

Couldn’t stop moving for the same reason.

They kept trying to get behind him. Snapping barbed tendrils at the backs of his knees, the gaps of his armor. Trying to force him down.

If I fall I’m dead.

Deadlocks vents were screaming. A brave little fragger went for his face, Deadlock swung his rifle like a bat.

Distraction.

Shooting pain went through the back of his left knee joint. Something with barbs was forcing it apart. Something tore.

Deadlock immediately brought down the barrel through an eye socket and pulled the trigger. Didn’t have time to register if the quint was dead before another one came at him from the opposite side. His peds dragged furrows through the earth and snow. Spinning. He had to keep spinning.

He was slowing.

If I fall I’m dead.

The quints redoubled their efforts to get behind him. More lashes at his back. Another quint darting the other direction. Didn’t even attack. But Deadlock wasn’t ready for the feint and swung at empty air.

The pack leapt at his back as one.

I’m going to die.

Deadlock wedged his rifle between him and the ground. The quintessons tore into his back but the weight was too much to throw off without help.

I’m not gonna see them again.

The rifle dug into his pauldron.

I don’t want to die.

A tendril wrapped around his neck. He clawed at it.

I don’t want to die like this.

One of them was dragging a ped backwards. Forcing his weight onto his injured knee.

I don’t want to die alone.

Drift screamed.

For a moment, from the corner of his blurry optics, he saw a light growing brighter and brighter.

“Huh”, Drift thought deliriously. “I always figured the last light you see before death would appear in front of you.”

IMPACT against the mob at his back sent Drift and the quintesson scouts scattering across the ground.

He fell.

He wasn’t dead.

Deadlock scrambled into an upright kneel, ignoring the lightning like pain shooting up his knee.

Leaning on his rifle, Deadlock saw another mech. Orange and gold with propane blue lights, he had multiple quints trapped in a bear hug. What hit him the hardest was an EM field overflowing with wild, unrestrained joy.

“HOT ROD?!?”

The mecha pilot only got about half the squirmy, bite-y little scrappers in the hold. The other half were quickly shaking off probable Roddy-induced concussions and began leaping at the nearest, newest prone target.

Hot Rod waved.

“Hey dude! Holy shit, that gun looks awesome!” Deadlock looked on in disbelief as more quintessons piled onto Hot Rod.

“What are you doing?! Rod get up!” Deadlock lurched to his feet, his last few thoughts repeated like a skipping track.

I was going to die. I was going to die. Hot Rod is going to die.

The cybertronian rushed towards the mecha. Hot Rod released the remaining quints who quickly turned to join the crushing mass subsuming him.

Hot Rod raised a hand, “Stop! Stop! Don’t get closer!”

Deadlock stopped just short of where the quints would turn on him. “Are you insane?! I’m trying to help you!”

“Just trust me!” Half of Hot Rod’s helm was covered in blackish tendrils. “And then help me in about five seconds!” Orange and gold disappeared under the writhing mass, the light snuffed out before Deadlocks optics.

He finally subspaced his rifle, switching to duel short range handguns that were both messy and loud. He counted five, fucking human seconds.

Something happened to the mass. The squirming suddenly stopped, and in the gaps of the knots surrounding Hot Rod, Deadlock saw something start to glow.

In the next instance, the quintessons exploded off of the mecha. Partially from the act of fleeing, entirely because Hot Rod was completely engulfed in flames.

“WOO! Now the party can get started!” Hot Rod wasted no time in engaging duel flamethrowers and began chasing after the remaining quints with manic glee.

Deadlock stopped questioning shit and started shooting with a vengeance.

Soon enough, the field around them was littered with the quintesson scouts burned and shredded remains.

Deadlocks vents were finally kicking down from maximum and he finally managed to wipe the stupid slagging slush out of his optics.

For the moment his eyes were offline, Deadlock felt a spike of happy that almost bowled him over. A half second before Hot Rod physically bowled him over.

Deadlock’s overtaxed fight or flight systems just gave the fuck up and let the tackle happen.

Hot Rod had him in a tight enough embrace he wasn’t sure he could have gotten away anyways.

“Holy shit I thought you were going to die.” Hot Rod crushed him to his chassis. The twin waves of Worry and Relief were doing things to his processor again. Deadlock (Drift?) was still feeling the aftershocks of it all. Memories skipped again. I’m going to die.

Dea-Dri- he wrapped his shaking arms around Hot Rod. Later, he could just say his knee gave out. Everything was spinning. Wait. No. Hot Rod picked him up and was spinning with him.

“You’re so lil now!” Hot Rod was ecstatic.

Deadlock was back. “Put me down. Gently.”

Hot Rod acquiesced, but seeing Deadlock nearly fall on his own, took the liberty of slinging one of his arms over his shoulders.

“M’kay. You look like shit. Need help walking back to Ratchets? Or can you drive?”

Deadlocks knee and entire back ached, but it wasn’t so debilitating once he’s had a chance to process it for a click.

“Uh, I think I’ll be okay to drive once I get to a road.” Hot Rod pulled him a little more securely into the supporting hold and started walking in the direction of the nearest road.

“Man, that’s still so cool you can do that. I wish I could turn into a car.”

Deadlock snorted, “Oh I’m sure if you keep practicing you’ll figure it out. Try stretching.”

Hot Rod laughed. It was so weird to think there was just a little guy in there. Sitting in like, a fancy cup holder. He sounded like the real thing. Moved like it too. If Deadlock hadn’t met Hot Rod the human first, the uncanny valley would have tipped him off something was wrong, but teeny tiny guy in a big person-puppet would not be his first guess.

Hot Rod stopped short, snapping his helm toward Deadlock.

“Wait. Do you ever drop off Ratchet at the shatterdome?”

Deadlock rolled his optics at the third near spark attack Hot Rod had given him that day.

“Yeeeah?”

Excitement started bubbling over.

“YOU’RE THE MOB BOYFRIEND?!” Hot Rod was stomping his peds while scream-laughing, probably because he couldn’t go for a run without dropping Deadlock.

“Dude! Dude dude dude. Pharma haaates you!”

Well that put Deadlock in a better mood. Albeit, only due to a “misunderstanding”.

“S’not like that. I just give him a lift sometimes. Make sure he doesn’t forget his lunch. Or to take care of himself. We’re not, you know.” Deadlock was pointedly looking the other direction.

Hot Rods cackled at the confirmation of the rumor, and his field steadily shifted towards mischief.

“Oooh Ratchet!” Hot Rod had begun speaking in a falsetto voice. “I love you sooo much! I’m from space but my favorite stars are the ones twinkling in your eyes! I wanna drive you to every beautiful place on this planet and when we finally come home we can watch Golden Girls while you pet my big bald metal head!”

“I’m going to punt you into a fragging Sun.”

Hot Rod laughed harder. He started making some weird wheezing noise that Deadlock hoped meant the imaginary strangling he was doing was working.

“THE UNICRON DAMNED SUN.”

Deadlock’s threatening was severely undercut by the fact that he was laughing now as well. They’d just about made it to the edge of the forest when Hot Rod asked a question that made Deadlock freeze.

“How’d you piss off so many scouts at once anyways? They’re normally way too spread out to all be grouped together like that.”

There were only two times when a pack of quintesson scouts were all gathered in the same place. When they first get dropped off, and when they gather to get picked back up.

Deadlock unhooked his arm from Hot Rod, turning behind them.

The change in air pressure made his finales tingle. Between the snow and the darkness, it was almost impossible to spot with the untrained optic. The snow had stopped falling. It was being blocked.

“Oooh shit.” Hot Rod checked the fuel levels on his flame throwers, glancing between those and the telltale green bio lights of the fuck off massive quintesson descending like the lethargic offspring of a meteor and a shark.

Deadlock brought out two of his heaviest duty guns. And then a third he handed handle first to Hot Rod. Ratchet had only warned him against encouraging Hot Rod’s stupid ideas.

Hot Rod was now looking rapidly between three points of interest.

“Wha-?”

Deadlock gave Hot Rod a gun.

“Do not tell Ratchet.”

Hot Rod held up the side arm. Focus zeroed in. Pretty nasty piece that looked more intimidating than it was. Slagged range but it packed enough of a punch to be worth keeping. Covered in spikes and blades and heavy enough to act as a crude but very nasty club, it was also one of the most over the top looking things Deadlock owned.

Hot Rod’s free hand started flapping faster and faster. His peds similarly bounced rapidly in place, until Deadlock was certain he was about to combust. Hot Rod was making A noise. One that was steadily rising in both pitch and volume. His field going supernova.

The quintesson broke through the clouds, maw open, carving up the earth before them with the bottom of its jaw. A cliffside of teeth was closing in at speed.

Hot Rod screamed.

And Deadlock followed suit.

Sprinting towards death, guns blazing and voices raised in preemptive victory, Deadlock and maybe also Drift, had a suspicion the he and Hot Rod were friends in every universe.

Much to the terror of everyone else.

———————————————————————

And that’s the soft finale to this tale!

Over the course of writing this, the story kept getting longer, but the two scenes it started with were “Hot Rod Meets Deadlock” and “Hot Rod Saves Deadlock” and then more ideas kept popping in between those two scenes.

There is more I plan on writing for these dipshits as well as Jazz and Prowl now but we’ll see what comes first.

I just wanted to say as well that @keferon you are a very talented writer and you’re the reason I was brave enough to share my own stuff. You fit so many little details into your work that just hits like a hammer down the line.

-SSTP

THE SWEET SWEET COMFORT YESSS THE SHENANIGANS!! ABSOLUTELY. Y E S. PL E A S E fklgjgidowjehrkrndhdof

Oh this is amazing. The dynamic you give them. The enERGY. It's like a candy for my soul I love it so so much ogkfhdgd I'm so happy you decided to share your writing! It's filled with joy and and I-dont-fucking-know purified enthusiasm?? I can't remember the right words rn but hopefully you get what I mean haha

[alllgator-blood]

FINISHED THAT ONE COMIC I POSTED ABOUT ALMOST 30 FULL DAYS AGO?? I FINALLY REMEMBERED IT EXISTED AND FINISHED IT. I HAVE SO MUCH I WANT TO SAY ABOUT MY LAMB NOW THAT THEY'RE FINALLY THE MAIN CHARACTER IN A LONG COMIC, BUT it went on forever so I put it below the cut.

While we're above the cut, I have a bunch of REALLy good asks I'll be trying to draw for soon. But keep an eye out for a poll coming up soon...cause now that this is out of the way, I want another big project to have in the background and I have Big Ideas for Big Angst Comics........

OH YOU CLICKED THE THING, NICE. OKAY. SO:

Have I ever talked about how my lamb works?? I need to do more with them but I'm a bishop enjoyer to an obsessive degree. The lamb operates on the same kind of level as kallamar did during the breakdown comic, but on a more permanent, more stable level. After being told to hide for their whole life, to never show their face and not even being given a name......being beheaded by four gods and recruited by a fifth forgotten one who claims they're the Chosen One just made the lamb think "OH! None of this is real. My brain wanted me to feel important before I died, and this is my dying vision. Okay, I'll play along >:)" and now they're the equivalent of when you beat a game and replay it while picking the funniest/worst options to see what'd happen.

USUALLY their decisions are clouded by the assumption that nothing they do actually matters, but they're still......a person who held things dear and had standards while they were alive. So they love hijinx, but aren't like leshy who launches people out of catapults for fun, or kallamar who sees mortals more as lab rats than people living their own lives. They'll do some things for the lolz but their humanity definitely shows through when dealing with someone like shamura.

I think they went into the bishop slaying quest wanting to hate shamura, assuming they were an irredeemable antagonist that deserved to be vanquished. They were told by narinder that shamura was the big bad, so they figured there was nothing to it beyond that. But then they actually MET shamura, who wasn't at all what they were expected to be. Every other bishop is just like "RAHH I'LL KILL YOU" when you meet them, and then shamura is the only person who actually tells you about what happened, speaks to you like a person and not an obstacle, and doesn't seem bothered about the fact they're going to die. So that got them thinking....hmm...perhaps these people are slightly more realistic than I anticipated. Still gonna kill them tho

I'm not sure the lamb hates the bishops, especially after the realization that they're a fucked up family acting out in desperation rather than logic. When you're born into circumstances you know will eventually doom you (like being a sacrificial lamb destined for slaughter) you kinda...lose the ability to care after a while. They don't really *forgive* the bishops for the slaughter of their people, and definitely enjoy bullying them and kicking them around now that they're powerless mortals- but the initial horror of being born to die has subsided. Now that they're presumably in some kind of afterlife, and have better, more fun things to move onto now that they're the ruler of everything- it's not worth it to hate those five forever.

I think *because* the lamb has only been a god very briefly and still remembers mortality well, that's why they're the one god who does things "because they're funny" but also is respectful of people like shamura. It's like when you're playing GTA V and you accidentally drive over a dog while trying to pull over and look at it closer. Is it a real dog?? No but you're still gonna feel bad!! So like I said, in the lamb's mind they have NO reason to care about any of these people or show them mercy, but the fact that they're not as detached from mortality as the bishops were makes them a benevolent god. I'll be doing a comic about this very subject in the future and it WILL be depressing >:)

Also. Unrelated. But if you read this far, I feel the need to justify why heket and leshy suddenly have boobs in this comic. I'm sure it's obvious that I headcanon the gods don't have sex characteristics cause like...why would they need those. I don't want to draw that. But as MORTALS they would probably need to have all their organs intact to function properly, so pour one out for shamura + leshy who probably completely forgot they were transgender until they woke up in mortal bodies. NOT SURE HOW KALLAMAR WOULD REACT, I think they're more just horrified they lost all their tentacles

I debated doing another silly comic about the concept but I don't want this blog to get too raunchy, so instead have this epic ms paint art (I CAN MAKE THESE JOKES, I'M AFAB TRANS I DESERVE THIS ONE THING)

[astrologydray]

The Shady/Bitchy side of each moon sign

Moon in Aries ♈️:

Very much hot heads in the moment, then act like nothing happened five minutes later🙄

“Me first, feelings later” head ahh Their emotions take priority, and they can bulldoze others without realizing (or caring).

Even in casual situations, they have to win, and if they don’t, they get salty fast.

If they don’t like you (or even if they do), they’ll say the harshest truth with zero sugarcoating.

If they feel unappreciated or ignored, expect passive-aggressive mood swings disguised as independence🤣.

Moon in Taurus ♉️:

If you piss them off, they won’t yell—they’ll just pretend you don’t exist, maybe Forever to 😭.

Once they claim something (or someone), good luck getting them to share or let go. Possessive & Stubborn as Hell.

They won’t waste energy on just anything, but if it’s about proving a point? They’re on it😫.

If they don’t like you, expect side-eye about your outfit, job, or bank account very much shady Materialistically.

They might not say it out loud, but their face will definitely tell you what they think😐.

Moon in Gemini ♊️:

Cliched, but They’ll talk sh*t about you, then smile in your face like nothing happened. Very much two faced 🤷🏾‍♂️.

They can flip from “I love you” to “Who are you again?” with zero effort.

Their insults are fast, witty, and so clever that you won’t even process the shade until later.

They collect gossip like it’s currency and will use it to their advantage😫.

One minute, they’re your best friend; the next, they’re ghosting you for something more interesting. Inconsistent Energy .

Moon in Cancer ♋️:

They get way too invested in people’s lives and feel personally betrayed if you don’t do what they expect.

Will act innocent and shocked when called out, because they would never!🤣

They’ll cry, vent, or act like the victim, even when they were the problem.

They might forgive, but they’ll never forget (and they will bring it up again).

Expect moody silences, heavy sighs, and “I just think it’s funny how…” energy🥲.

Moon in Leo ♌️:

“Omg, I love how you don’t care what people think of your outfit!” Y’all give backhanded compliments.

If you don’t hype them up enough, they’ll subtly (or not-so-subtly) undermine you🫠.

They’ll act like they’re being humble, but the flex is always right there.

If they’re not the center of attention, they will find a way to redirect the spotlight.

Their emotional outbursts are theatrical, and you will be their audience.

Moon in Virgo ♍️:

They’ll find that one tiny flaw and make sure you never forget it.

“I’m just trying to help!” (while tearing you apart with unsolicited advice).

They act superior by staying “calm” while you look messy.

They’ll shade you while acting like they’re just “being practical.”

If they’ve done anything for you, expect to hear about it forever.

Moon in Libra ♎️:

Smiling in your face, but dragging you in private (or to their other friend group) like Gemini moons y’all be two faced 🤷🏾‍♂️.

Pretends to be neutral but definitely stirs the pot behind the scenes.

Charm is their weapon, and they know how to use it.

If you throw off their vibe, they’ll quietly fade out of your life without a word.

Will ruin you socially if you embarrass them in public😭.

Moon in Scorpio ♏️:

Forgiveness? Never heard of it. They will get their revenge.

They won’t argue—they’ll just stare at you with a look that kills your soul👁️👄👁️.

If you betray them, they’ll cut you off so coldly you’ll question if they ever cared.

Plays it cool, but behind the scenes, they always have the upper hand🤫.

They know your weak spots and will hit them where it hurts if you cross them.

Moon in Sagittarius ♐️:

They’ll say the most offensive thing and then act confused when you get mad.

Will debate you into exhaustion just to prove a point😵‍💫.

Will drop a chaotic take, watch the drama unfold, and then leave the chat.

If you’re too emotional, they’ll hit you with, “Ugh, can we not do this right now?”

Acts like they’re above petty drama but somehow always involved.

Moon in Capricorn ♑️:

If they’re mad at you, expect zero reaction. They’ll just act like you don’t exist.

Every insult is strategic and meant to hit exactly where it hurts🧠.

They will find a way to have the upper hand in any situation.

If they don’t respect you, they’ll make sure you feel it.

They won’t say it outright, but their face will definitely let you know you’re beneath them.

Moon in Aquarius ♒️:

They’ll hurt your feelings and then genuinely not understand why you’re upset.

“I’m just being objective” (as they completely invalidate your emotions).

They hate being told what to do and will do the opposite on purpose.

Will talk to you like you’re slow if you don’t see things their way😐.

If you confront them, expect a shrug and a “whatever” instead of an actual response.

Moon in Pisces ♓️:

Instead of confronting problems, they’ll just ghost and act wounded.

They rewrite reality to fit their feelings, even if it makes zero sense.

“I guess I just care too much” (while making you feel awful).

Acts forgiving, but months later will bring up how you ruined their life.

If confronted, they’ll cry or act confused until you end up apologizing.

[sometimescharlolette]

JOEL MILLER X F!READER (BRAT TAMING)

Synopsis: You disobey Joel, putting your life at risk once again, his patience runs out, and he teaches you a lesson.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: +18, age gap, p in v, rough sex, punish sex, dirty talk, possessive behavior, degradate, orgasm denial, age gap not explicit

A/N: Hello pretty people, valentine's day is coming, and I thought I'd write a few things to celebrate this special day. There will be five in total, starting today and ending on the 14th. I hope you enjoy this idea as much as I do. In any case, comments and feedback always motivate me to keep writing and trying to improve. Kisses 💜💜

How many times would Joel have to repeat himself until your stubborn little head got it through your thick skull? Keeping you within the perimeter wasn’t some arbitrary punishment—it was survival. He wasn’t the bad guy for trying to make sure you didn’t get yourself killed. Or worse, turned. The thought alone made his stomach churn, a bitter taste rising in the back of his throat. He had already lost too many people. He wasn’t about to lose you, even if it meant keeping you under lock and key.

And yet, there you were. Again.

He found you near the HQ containment zone, cigarette dangling from your lips, laughing at something some idiot had whispered in your ear. Smoke curled from your mouth, slipping between soft, pink lips as though the world wasn’t on fire around you. As if you had no care at all.

Joel never wanted this job. Never wanted to be responsible for you. But Tess, of course, had volunteered to keep an eye on you, which meant he’d been dragged into this mess, forced to play babysitter to a reckless brat who didn’t seem to give a damn about how dangerous things were outside those gates.

“Let’s go.”

His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument, the crunch of his heavy boots against the gravel matching the unwavering determination in his eyes. He didn’t slow as he approached, didn’t hesitate as he wrapped his fingers around your wrist, yanking you away from the wall you were leaning against.

“Wait—” you whined, twisting in his grip, but he didn’t stop. The cigarette slipped from your lips, embers snuffing out against the cold ground. You cast a glance at the others, as if hoping one of them might step in. But no one did. No one ever did. Not when it came to Joel.

With a frustrated growl, he had enough. In one swift motion, he hauled you over his shoulder, one arm locking around your thighs as you yelped in protest. You kicked, fists thudding against his back, hair falling over your face as the blood rushed to your head.

“Joel, put me down! You caveman—”

He ignored you, jaw clenched tight, stride unwavering as he carried you back to the apartment. Your struggles were useless against his iron grip, every squirm and protest met with nothing more than a gruff sigh. Only once he crossed the threshold, locking the door behind him, did he finally let you go—unceremoniously dropping you onto the worn couch.

You landed with a huff, limbs sprawled in a graceless heap. “What the hell was that?” you snapped, glaring up at him. “I’m not a damn child.”

Joel exhaled sharply, running a rough hand down his face. His patience was gone, his body taut with frustration. His dark eyes locked onto yours, voice low and edged with exhaustion.

“No. But you sure as hell act like one.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, your breath hitching as his gaze pinned you in place. He was tired—tired of chasing after you, tired of dragging you back from the edge when you so eagerly danced on it.

Joel stepped closer, looming over your sprawled form on the couch. He could see the defiance in your eyes, the stubborn set of your jaw. It was infuriating, but it also stirred something primal in him. He had to put an end to this reckless behavior, one way or another.

"Listen up, 'cause I'm only gonna say this once," he growled, voice rough and low. "You can't keep pullin' this shit, darlin'. It ain't safe out there."

He grabbed your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. His calloused thumb brushed over your bottom lip, a rough caress that felt a jolt through you. "You're playin' with fire, and you're gonna get yourself burned. I won't let that happen."

Joel leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Maybe it's time I taught you a lesson about listening in' to your elders." His other hand slid down your side, coming to rest on your hip. He squeezed, fingers digging into the soft flesh.

"Wh-what are you doing?" you stammered, a flush creeping up your neck. You tried to pull away, but he held you firm.

"Shh, just relax," he murmured, voice a low rumble. "I'm gonna make you understand, one way or another." His hand slid higher, brushing over the curve of your breast. He could feel your nipple stiffen beneath the thin fabric of your shirt.

Joel captured your mouth in a demanding kiss, swallowing any protests. His tongue delved past your lips, claiming your mouth with a hunger that stole your breath. He kissed you until you were dizzy, until you could only cling to him for support.

When he finally pulled back, your lips were red and swollen, his chest heaving. "You're not leaving this house until I say so," he declared, voice rough with desire. "And if you try, I'll just have to punish you again."

His hand slid under your skirt, finding the heat between your thighs. He groaned at the dampness he found there, a finger tracing your slit through the fabric of your panties. "Fuck, you're already so wet," he muttered. "Guess you like bein' manhandled like this, don't you?"

He ripped your panties away, tossing them carelessly to the side. Then his fingers were on your bare flesh, stroking through your slick folds. He circled your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your hips buck up against his hand.

"Joel..." you whimpered, head thrown back in ecstasy. "Please..."

"Please what, baby?" he taunted, fingers delving deeper. "Please stop? Or please don't stop?" He pumped two fingers in and out of you, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot inside.

You could only moan in response, lost in the pleasure he was giving you. He worked you closer and closer to the edge, until your thighs were trembling and your walls were clenching around his fingers.

"Please, Joel, keep it up, I'm, I'm gonna cum," you moaned breathlessly, your head thrown back on the arm of the couch, your chest rising and falling with the scorching heat building in your pelvis, but before you could get caught up in the sensation of pleasure, he pulled his fingers out.

Joel smirked at the confused, frustrated look on your face as he abruptly pulled his fingers from your aching, desperate cunt. He could see the need written all over you, the way your body trembled and your chest heaved with each ragged breath. It was a delicious sight, seeing you so wound up and wanting. He planned to take his time with you, to make you beg for release like the needy little thing you were.

"Please, Joel, I can't-- ah!" Your protests turned into a yelp as his palm cracked against your sensitive pussy, the sharp sting only adding to the fire burning under your skin. He could feel your slick coating his hand, your arousal dripping down your thighs.

"Listen up, you brat," he growled, voice low and dominant. "You don't get to cum until I say so. This is your punishment for being such a reckless little fool."

Joel grabbed your ankles, pushing your legs up and back towards your shoulders. He held you in a tight hold, folding you nearly in half as he loomed over your exposed, dripping cunt. His cock strained against his jeans, rock hard and aching to be buried inside you. But he had other plans first.

Leaning down, he ran his tongue along your slit, tasting your essence. "Fuck, you taste so good," he murmured against your flesh. "Sweet as honey." He delved deeper, tongue plunging into your entrance as he ate you out with eager.

Your moans filled the room, back arching as much as his grip would allow. He could feel your walls fluttering around his invading tongue, desperate for more. But he pulled back, leaving you wanting once again.

"No, please Joel, I need-- I need to cum," you whined, voice high and needy. Your hips bucked, trying to grind against his face, but he held you still.

"Not yet, you don't," he chided, giving your clit a sharp nip. "You don't get to cum until I say so. Until I've had my fill of you."

Joel released your legs, letting them fall to the couch. He undid his belt and jeans with quick, rough movements, freeing his hard cock. It sprang up, long and thick, the swollen head already leaking with need.

Joel fisted a hand in your hair, gripping it tight as he rubbed the leaking head of his cock along your cheek. The scent of his arousal filled your nose, making your mouth water with anticipation. You could feel the heat radiating off his thick shaft, the weight of it as he painted your lips with his pre-cum.

"Open up, baby," he ordered, voice rough with lust. "If you do a good job sucking my cock, maybe I'll let you cum. Would you like that?"

He pressed the tip against your lips, demanding entrance. Your gaze flicked up to meet his, seeing the dark hunger in his eyes. He wanted to use your mouth, to fuck your face until he spilled his load down your throat. The thought sent a thrill of excitement through you.

Reaching up, you wrapped your small hand around the base of his thick cock, feeling it throb against your palm. Slowly, you parted your lips, letting the head slip past them. Your tongue darted out, lapping at the slit, tasting the salty essence leaking from the tip.

"Fuck," Joel groaned, hips jerking forward slightly as your tongue caressed his sensitive flesh. "That's it, baby. Take it deeper."

He pushed more of his length into your mouth, the thick head hitting the back of your throat. You had to relax your jaw, letting him slide in further. He was so big, stretching your lips wide around his girth. You could only take about half of him before you started to gag, throat convulsing around his shaft.

"That's enough," Joel growled, pulling out abruptly. Strings of saliva connected your mouth to his cock, dripping down your chin. He wiped the head of his cock across your cheek, smearing your spit mixed with his pre-cum across your skin.

"On your knees," he commanded, voice rough and demanding. "I want to fuck your face properly."

You quickly complied, slipping off the couch to kneel before him. The hardwood floor was cold against your knees, but the heat of his body was warm against your face. You looked up at him, waiting for his next instruction, ready and eager to please him.

Joel gripped your hair tighter, fisting it like a handle as he began to thrust into your mouth. His cock pushed past your stretched lips, hitting the back of your throat with each pump of his hips. Drool leaked from the corners of your mouth, dribbling down your chin and onto your heaving chest as he used your face.

"Take it, you cock-hungry slut," he grunted, eyes dark with lust as he watched your lips stretch obscenely around his shaft. "Fuck, your mouth feels so good."

He set a brutal pace, fucking your face with long, deep strokes. The head of his cock slammed against your throat again and again, making you gag and choke around him. But he didn't let up, too lost in his own pleasure to care about your discomfort.

"Touch yourself," he ordered, voice strained. "Play with that needy cunt while I use your mouth."

You quickly slid a hand between your thighs, fingers delving into your soaked folds. You circled your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles as Joel continued to pound into your throat. The dual stimulation was almost too much to bear, pleasure and pain blurring together until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

Joel could feel his release approaching, balls drawing up tight against his body. He thrust harder, chasing his end with single-minded focus. With a guttural groan, he buried himself deep in your throat and held himself there, spurting jet after jet of hot, thick cum directly down your gullet.

You swallowed convulsively around him, trying to gulp down every drop of his release. Some of it leaked out, dribbling down your chin and onto your heaving tits. When he finally pulled out, you gasped for air, coughing and sputtering, face flushed and eyes watering.

"Good girl," Joel praised, tucking himself back into his jeans. He hauled you up by your hair, crashing his mouth against yours in a filthy kiss. He could taste himself on your tongue, the salty flavor of his cum mingling with the sweet taste of your own saliva.

"Now, beg for it," he demanded, hand drifting down to rub your clit hard and fast. "Beg me to let you cum, you dirty little brat. Beg me to give you the release you so desperately need."

Joel smirked down at your lascivious state, taking in the way your face was flushed and smeared with the evidence of your debauchery. He could feel your hips writhing against his fingers, desperate for more friction, more stimulation, more of anything that would bring you the release you so desperately craved.

"Please, Joel, please let me cum," you whimpered, voice high and thready with need. "I'll do anything, I'll be so good, just please let me cum!"

He could feel your pussy clenching around his fingers, greedy and hungry for more. He rubbed your clit harder, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with rough, calloused fingers. His other hand slid up your body to grope at your tits, squeezing the soft mounds roughly.

"Beg harder," he demanded, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. "Convince me of how badly you need it. Tell me how much you want to cum all over my fingers like the desperate little slut you are."

He pumped his fingers faster, plunging them in and out of your soaked cunt. The obscene sound of your arousal filled the room as he fingered you hard and fast, the wet squelch of your pussy echoing off the walls.

"Please, oh god please!" you cried out, head thrown back in ecstasy. "I need it so fucking bad, Joel. I'm so close, I can't-- ah! I can't take it anymore!"

He could feel your body tensing, your walls starting to flutter around his invading digits. He knew you were on the verge of cumming, teetering on the razor's edge of the most intense orgasm of your young life.

"Cum for me, you filthy girl," he growled, rubbing your clit with quick, rough circles. "Cum all over my fingers like the vicious brat you are. Show me how badly you craved it."

With a scream of pure pleasure, your body convulsed, back arching as your orgasm crashed over you like a tsunami. Your pussy clamped down on his fingers, rippling and squeezing as you gushed all over his hand, soaking his palm and dripping down onto the couch.

Joel worked you through it, fingers pumping and rubbing, drawing out your pleasure for as long as possible. He could feel your juices flooding out of you, your body shaking and trembling as the aftershocks rolled through you.

Finally, as your orgasm started to subsid, he pulled his fingers out of your dripping cunt. He brought them up to his mouth, sucking your delicious essence from the digits and groaning at the taste.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he murmured, eyes dark with renewed lust. "I think I'm going to keep you, baby. Keep you here, so you won't put your pretty ass in danger"

He pulled you close, crashing his mouth against yours in a esurient kiss. He could taste himself on your lips, the flavor of your shared pleasure mingling together. His cock was already hardening again, straining against his jeans and pressing insistently against your hip.

"You will take seriously what I say," he declared, voice rough and low. "If I tell you not to leave the perimeter, you don't, if I forbid you from going out alone, you obey. Understand?"

You could only nod, still dazed and pliant in his arms, your body humming with satisfaction. You knew that no one would ever make you feel as good as he did. And god help you, but you couldn't wait.

"Good," Joel mused softly, pulling your limp body closer to him, holding you affectionately, "cause I don't want to chase you around to save your ass anymore."

[sangwookisser]

⭒AFTER HOURS - HWANG JUN-HO⭒

cw: switch dynamics, fighting, choking, piv, fem! reader, guard! reader, (this is a bit non canon as junho already got his square mask before confronting you) creampies, unprotected sex, praise, choking, not beta'd

You screwed up today.

You'd worked here so long that every time you'd shot a player, or moved a body, or ordered a circle mask to clean up the area after a game, it felt unconscious, like a menial chore. Perhaps you'd gotten too careless and forgotten your place, because you'd frozen on the spot when a player, a woman, young and pleading and desperate, had crawled against your leg and pleaded with you to let her live after she'd cracked a side on her star Dalgona.

You froze.

A careless mistake. She'd taken your hesitation as an opportunity to grab your rifle and wrench it from your hands, trying to shoot you in the head and missing, before she managed to hit a soldier in the arm that'd been rushing over to pry the weapon from her hands. The entire playground was a mess now, with yells of terror and people cracking their Dalgona due to stress, all because of you.

Now you were following a very tall, quiet square guard to a private room, only meant for very important matters. no cameras are placed in here. He locks the door behind you and turned to face you. You hung your head, fighting the urge to wring your hands.

"Look at me."

You look up at the sound of a deep, distorted voice, placing your hands behind your back so you could hide the way they're shaking. He doesn't move, watching you through the thick black plastic of his mask, assessing you.

"Explain."

You inhale shakily, unable to hide your nervousness. You knew that you wouldn't have been brought here if you weren't about to receive a terrible punishment. There was no one watching, and the games were long over for the day. You pause for a moment, trying to find your voice, but he speaks again.

"Do you forget yourself, soldier? You answer promptly when asked to. The longer you try to wrack your brain to find a reason why you fucked up today, the less ill believe your stupid excuses."

You bristle at the condescending tone of his voice. You don't like being spoken to in such a way, even if its by a superior. Still, you can't come up with a good reason as to why you froze. Perhaps you'd seen a glimmer of yourself in the way the woman pleaded and searched for mercy.

You were weak and vulnerable once too. She'd cracked a part of the walls you'd built up around yourself to try and make killing players easier. "I'm just trying to collect myself, sir." You say, your tone a little too sharp for his liking.

"Collect yourself?" Jun-ho says in return. "I'm not playing games with you, soldier."

"And neither am I," You snap back, frustrated and scared enough to act with your emotions and not logically. You're not thinking about the repercussions of talking back to a superior. "I made one mistake in the five years I've been here, and you're just attacking m-"

"Take off your mask."

The order sent a chill down your spine. You weren't ever supposed to show your face around here, not even to your superiors. It usually meant you were about to take a bullet to the head.

You look around anxiously to try and spot any cameras, but most of them are turned off for this location since it is meant to be vacant right now. You step back and finally speak.

"S-sir, I can't. It's against policy."

"Don't give me any more bullshit. Take off your mask. that's an order." You grit your teeth but don't budge, refusing to go along with the inevitable that happens when you show your face. He growls and raises his hand, his pistol at your head in a second. "Now, triangle."

You let out a shaky exhale and reluctantly peel off your mask, letting it drop to the floor, along with the balaclava underneath.

There's a tense moment of silence as he looks you over, and he nearly groans in appreciation of how cute you are. Jun-ho expected an old hag with nothing to lose, not... you.

His eyes roam over the wide, sparkly eyes staring up at him and the soft frown on your face, as well as the way your lashes skim your cheekbones when you blink, your soft, pretty hair, your full lips...

You take his hesitation as an opportunity and knock the gun out of his hands, shoving him back and debating on running or staying to fight him.

He lunges to grab you, and you aim a kick to his chest to try and steer him off course again, but he grabs your ankle and kicks the back of your other leg to make you crumple. You curse, reeling back a bit as you stand straight again, punching his stomach to make him let go of you.

He grunts, but doesn't relent, so you aim a few more punches to his chest and stomach, but he grabs your arm and twists it, letting go of your leg and shoving you against the wall of the room, pressing your chest against the wall. You scowl, struggling fervently, but its hard to when he's a head taller and has the strength of a gorilla.

He pauses for a bit, smug at how easy it was to beat you when you had the advantage of disorienting him by making the first move.

"There, was that so hard? You're making me feel like a monster. Pretty girls like you deserve to be worshipped, not roughhoused like this." You growl at the implication, aching to demand what exactly he means, but you figured that if you play into the act a little bit, you might be able to get your advantage back.

You sniffle, making the slightly-exaggerated sounds of someone about to cry. "I-I know sir," You choke out, your voice breaking. "I... I d-didn't mean for it to come to this, I just... d-don't wanna b-be punished or killed for one mistake, I didn't mean to hesitate today, really. P-please don't kill me..." You make the soft sounds of crying, trying to imitate the feeling of desperation and hopelessness.

His heart aches uncomfortably, and he feels your little body shaking with tears. He feels bad now. He just meant to scare you a bit so he could get information about this place, but you attacked him, so he had to do this to you. But it feels wrong. He can imagine your sweet little face scrunched up and flushed with tears, and he sighs, turning you around slowly so he can help wipe your face and soothe you.

You don't wait a second, delighted that your plan worked to some degree, enough that he was willing to let go of you long enough for you to drive your knee straight into his crotch.

"Fuck!" he curses, doubling over. "Shit, you fucking maniac!" You get the rifle off your back that all triangles are equipped with, astounded that he didn't disarm you at the first opportunity, and you shove the barrel under his chin.

"On your knees, square." You sneer at him, and he grits his teeth, dropping down to his knees with his hands raised.

"You're fucking crazy." He says angrily, panting as he massages his aching privates, his gaze roaming over your pretty face, and he scoffs, in disbelief that he, a trained cop, ended up in this situation.

"Now you take off your mask too. So we're in this together." You say coldly, nudging the gun at his neck. He freezes for a bit. He didn't know what you'd do if you found out he was a stowaway posing as a guard, and so he hesitated, but with a gun to his face, what more could he do?

Slowly, he took off his mask, letting the black plastic clatter to the floor as he pushed thick black hair out of his eyes, eying you warily.

You too, as he did, paused for a minute at the sight of his face. You didn't expect your manager to be so handsome. His features were soft and handsome, like some pretty boy you'd see on TV, not at your feet with your rifle to his head.

"Who are-"

He took a dive for your legs, realizing he couldn't go through the process of revealing everything to you. Even showing you his face was going too far. You squealed, tumbling to the ground, and he stuck his hand under your head so you wouldn't crack it open under the concrete, and he quickly straddled you, putting one hand around your throat and moving the other to hold your hands together above your head.

"The hell's your problem, huh?" He sneered, holding you down without much struggle even as you thrashed under him. "You don't listen. If you just shut up and answered a few questions, you'd be out of here in no time."

You choke, panting a bit, and he squeezes your neck a little tighter, fascinated at the way your cheeks warm and your eyes darken. His cock twitches a bit in his pants, excited by the way you look so helpless. The way you're squirming under him and rubbing your body unintentionally against his dick isn't helping. It's already tender from you hitting it with your knee earlier, and his hypersensitivity is just riling him up more and more.

"Shit..." He murmurs, loosening his grip just enough for you to get a big gulp of air, before he puts the same pressure on your neck once more.

"I'm not afraid of you," you hissed, despite the nervous flutters in your stomach. His eyes narrowed, and he leaned in closer, his face mere inches from yours.

"I don't care. You put yourself in this situation, and now look where you are." He mocks you, no longer caring about your feelings after your earlier deception. Your lips press together in a scowl.

You let out an infuriated growl, trying to shift your body up to attack him, maybe bite him, but he slams you back down with his grip around your neck. Your vision sparkles around the corners, and you pant, gasping weakly for air, and he lets go just before you pass out.

"Let... me go." You wheeze, inhaling unsteadily. He leans closer, about to say more, when you shove your lips against his. It's not a good tactic, and you hate doing it, but it's a last resort, and you needed to wind him so you could get your upper hand back.

To your disbelief, he moans, his grip on you loosening so he can lean down and kiss you deeply. He's pleasantly surprised, to say the least.

You're gorgeous, of course, and with the soft taste of strawberries that linger on your mouth, he's not complaining at all. He squeezes your face in his hands, rubbing his tongue over your lips to try and coax your mouth to open. You grit your teeth, annoyed by how enjoyable this is.

His lips are soft, and he's good at kissing. You enjoy the way he parts his lips and slots his mouth over yours to search for the best angle. However, you try to stay present enough to try and find the right moment to throw him off you. He, however, was lost. He's managed to get his tongue in your mouth, and he groans at your taste, one hand going to stroke your hair softly as he rolls his tongue over yours slowly and sloppily, almost savoring the feeling.

You grunt, squirming a bit as his long tongue pushes deeper in your mouth. He's getting way too excited for someone who was just trying to suffocate you, and you start to worry that you made a mistake by riling him up like this.

Your suspicions are confirmed when you feel something hard and thick poke your thighs, and he lets out a full-blown moan into your mouth, his hips beginning to rut against you. You've had enough. With as much effort you can muster, you bite his lip hard enough for it to be uncomfortable, and he lets out a yelp, smoothing his tongue over his now bleeding lip.

You desperately try to push him off you. His eyes are wide and shiny, like a puppy aching for a treat, and he pants a bit, before frowning. "I want more," He says gruffly, upset at your denial. He leans down, wanting to kiss you again, but you hook your legs around him and flip him over, using the element of surprise to your advantage.

He tries his best to try and buck you off, but once you get his hands pinned beside his head, he stops struggling, staring up at you with wide, glassy eyes, his breath coming out in tiny gasps.

"W-wha..." He starts weakly, but you tug his hair to shut him up. He doesn't oblige, moaning at the feeling and returning to humping you, his hips thrusting up against your ass as you straddle him.

"Stop it," You hiss angrily. "Acting like a fucking dog, have some shame."

He doesn't listen, his hands clenching into fists as he aches with the need to touch.

"F-fuck me..." he breathes out, and you try to put your hand over his mouth to shut him up, but you can still hear his loud groans as he ruts against you, dry humping you through his pants. "Fuck me, please." He insists. You squeeze his wrists with frustration, pissed off by his excessive neediness, but you start to lift his shirt, your hair tickling his cheek as you lean down. You pull it above his head, reveling in the sight of his soft, creamy white skin, and plush pink nipples.

He shivers as the cool air of the room hits his skin, and you slowly start to drag your fingers up his chest.

Unfortunately for you, that, paired with the constant feeling of his clothed cock rubbing against the juicy fat of your ass causes him to still, and he tears his hands out of your grip with little to no effort, places them on your butt, and rubs you fervently against his dick until his hips stutter, and he squeezes you tight.

"Oh G-god... mmh, fuck, fuck... fuck... 'm cumming, im cumming now..."

You can feel him throbbing against you as the sticky liquid of his cum stains his pants. You look down at him as he slumps down, keening loudly as he tries to catch his breath. his chest heaves hard.

You look down at him in shock, scowling down at him. "You dirty little..."

He doesn't let you finish your words, flipping you over.

Panting harshly, he loomed over you, his eyes wild with desperate, primal hunger. His large hands roamed feverishly over your curves, grasping and squeezing at the fabric of your guard uniform as if trying to rip them away from your body. "Please, baby... I need... I need to feel you... all of you..." he babbled, his voice ragged with urgency.

Fumbling fingers made quick work of the zippers, scattering them haphazardly across the floor. Jun-ho's breathing grew louder, more labored, as more and more of the your soft, supple skin was revealed to his ravenous gaze. "Please... let me... let me see you... touch you... taste you..." he begged, his words spilling out in a whining, desperate litany.

Hie hips undulated, grinding his clothed erection against the your core, seeking some measure of relief from the throbbing ache that consumed him. "I'm so fucking... so fucking desperate for you..." he whined, his hands finally succeeding in baring your breasts to his hungry eyes.

"My god... look at you... so fucking perfect..." Jun-ho dipped his head, peppering your newly exposed skin with desperate, open-mouthed kisses and sharp nips. You moan, squirming under him at the unfamiliar yet desirable sensation. He's worshipping you, obsessing over your body

"Tell me... tell me you want it too..." he urged breathlessly between kisses, his hands roaming lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants, your panties. "Tell me you need my cock...almost as much as I need to be inside your tight, wet little cunt..."

His desperation was palpable, his body trembling with the force of his desire as he awaited your response, praying you would give him the green light to plunge forward and claim you. He shoves his pants down, his slick cock, tender from his recent orgasm, hits his belly, and you try to sit up.

"Fuck, you bastard, get off," You try to protest, to hide how bad you want it despite the risk of you losing your job or being killed for doing something so reckless and idiotic. But your pussy can't hide how you crave to have his fat cock deep inside you.

His mouth watered at the intoxicating scent of your arousal, ripe and heady and consuming. He lavishes your breasts with desperate, open-mouthed kisses, his tongue swirling around one stiff peak, lapping and suckling greedily, before switching to its twin, determined to taste every inch of your succulent flesh. You cry out, keening dumbly. You hate how good it feels.

"Mmm... you taste... fuck, you taste incredible..." he praises between slurping kisses, sending vibrations tingling through your skin.

Below, Jun-ho's aching cock jerked and throbbed against your soaked pussy. Each twitch of his sensitive flesh against your core drew a guttural groan from the man's throat, and a soft whine from you, his hips rutting instinctively, chasing more of that exquisite friction.

"You're so pretty," he panted, the words tumbling out in a desperate, incoherent jumble.

He could feel the heat radiating off your cunt, could sense your body's readiness, yet still you held back, trying to retain some semblance of control.

He whimpered in frustration, his cock pulsing urgently against you as he gazed up at you with pleading, lust-glazed eyes. "Tell me... fuck, tell me you want it too..." he rasped, his voice breaking on the desperate words. "I can't... I can't hold back much longer..."

For a moment, you remained silent, your expression an unreadable mask. But then, with a sharp inhale and a barely audible hiss of air through gritted teeth, you finally uttered the word he craved to hear. "Yes... " you gasped, your voice tight with barely restrained desire. "Yes, I... I want it..."

Relief crashed through him like a tidal wave, and he released a shuddering sigh, his body relaxing slightly as the tension drained from his muscles.

And then, with a careful, deliberate movement, he positions the dripping, weeping tip of his cock at the entrance to your pussy.

With a deep, shuddering breath, he began to press forward, his hips inching closer, the sensitive crown of his cock parting your slick, swollen folds, eliciting a shaky gasp from you as your hands fly to his broad shoulders.

"Ohhh... fuck..." He groans, his voice a low, drawn-out rumble as he felt the exquisite, silken walls of your pussy clenching around the invading head of his dick.

You're so incredibly tight, so deliciously snug, that he had to pause. The sensation was almost too much to bear, the way your body resisted, then yielded, then resisted again, as if trying to suck him in deeper, to swallow him whole.

His hands clench on your hips, fingers digging into the supple flesh hard enough to leave bruises. Sweat beads on his brow as he focused all his concentration, every ounce of his willpower, on the slow, tortuous process of sinking into you.

Inch by excruciating inch, he invaded you, feeling your slick, plush walls flutter and clench around his sensitive cock, as if trying to draw him impossibly deeper.

"Goddamn... " Jun-ho groans, his breath coming in harsh, tortured pants as he finally bottomed out, his pelvis flush against yours, causing his heavy, full balls to nestle perfectly into the curve of your ass.

He could feel every ridge, every vein, every throbbing, pulsing beat of his flesh as it was engulfed in your sloppy little pussy. It took every shred of his control not to cum then and there, to spill his seed deep inside you. "Atta girl... squeeze me just like that..." He murmurs lowly, beginning to withdraw, feeling your walls drag against him, before plunging back in, starting a deep, deliberate rhythm.

Unwillingly, your composure starts to waver, your cool demeanor cracking. Soft, breathy moans leave your lips insistently, making his cock twitch inside you. "Y-you sound so pretty, you know that?" He chokes out through moans, thrusting steadily into you. "So good... S-so good for me, baby. I got you."

He talks you through it, feeling you flutter and clench around his sensitive flesh, as if trying to draw him even deeper. "Shit... fuck... so fucking tight..." he grunted, his hips pumping in a slow, deep rhythm that had your body jerking and bouncing beneath him.

You could feel your mind starting to go fuzzy, your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind as the pleasure mounted. "T-too deep, so deep..." you say, your words slurring together as you struggled to form coherent sentences.

Your fingers scrabbled at his back, nails digging into his sweat-slicked skin as you clung to him, anchoring yourself against him. Jun-ho could feel your body starting to tremble, could sense the desperation building in your touch and your breathy little cries. They spurred him on, urging him to thrust harder and deeper.

"That's it... fuck... take it... take my cock... take every fucking inch..." he growled, his voice a low, feral rumble that sent shivers down your spine. His mind could barely process the feeling of your pussy clenching around his cock, watching the way he'd stretch you out with every thrust.

The obscene sound of your arousal filled his ears, each deep, powerful thrust eliciting a lewd plap, plap, plap as your dripping walls struggled to accommodate his girth. "Fuck, listen to her... listen to your greedy little pussy sucking me in. She doesn't want me to go anywhere, does she? Wants my cum to fill her right up." he bends down, panting hotly against your neck, his lips and teeth and tongue working over your sensitive skin, leaving a trail of marks and kisses.

He could feel you trembling, could sense you trying to hide your face in the crook of your shoulder, no doubt an instinctive move to hide how good you feel, but he would not allow it. He hooks his hand under your chin, tilting your face back towards him, forcing you to meet hungry gaze. "Don't you hide from me now," he cooed, his voice low and rough with desire. "I want to see your cute little face."

You whimper, a deep blush covering your cheeks as you were forced to confront the his blatant, almost reverent adoration of you. "I'm not... I'm not cute..." you protested weakly, even as your hips begin to move up to meet his, seeking more of that delicious friction.

"You're not?" he asks, punctuating his words with a sharp, deep thrust that had you seeing stars. "But look at you... taking my cock like you were made for it... like your perfect little pussy was molded just for me..." His hand slid down, fingers splaying possessively over your lower belly, feeling it clench and quiver as he filled you so completely. "That's right, baby... this is your pussy's purpose... to milk my cock dry."

He could feel you starting to tense, your thighs beginning to quake around his pistoning hips, your belly fluttering beneath his splayed fingers. Your breathy moans and whimpers rose in pitch and volume, blending with Jun-ho's guttural groans and ragged pants to create a symphony of carnal bliss that echoed off the walls.

"Fuck, yes... that's it, baby... Come with me." the man urged breathlessly as he drank in the exquisite sight of you lost in ecstasy. "I want to feel this greedy little cunt squeeze the cum out of my cock. You miss a drop, and we do it all over again, you hear me?" He delivers a sharp snap of his hips, a brutal thrust that buried him to the hilt in you, kissing your womb so sweetly.

You size up suddenly, letting out a cry as your pussy clenched down hard, rhythmically, milking his throbbing cock for all it was worth as you rode out the crest of your climax.

The man threw back his head with a groan, a feral sound, as he felt your velvety walls spasming around him, sucking him deeper, urging him to fill you with his cum. He slams into you one last time before his own release overtook him. His cock jerked and pulsed, erupting as he pumped you full of his hot, thick seed, painting your insides white.

You collapsed together in a tangle of sweat-slicked limbs and heaving chests, the aftershocks of their shared climax leaving you both breathless. You could only cling to him as he leaned down and pressed a gentle little kiss to your temple.

"Don't try and beat me up ever again."

"Fuck you."

"Just did, baby."

[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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[misstycloud]

Haunted House

Ghost yan x ghost reader

TW: suicide mention

——————

It was with curiosity you stared out the window. A car had pulled up in the drive way. Through the car windows you sa two adults and three children in the backseat. Well, it was definitely not a maintenance company then. It always bothered you so when they came and meddled with your house; though it technically didn’t belong to you anymore you still considered the building as you home, and prison.

You watched as the kids ran out of the vehicle to inspect the house. You had to admit, they were rather cute. Before you hadn’t really thought about having kids and weren’t sure if you ever would, but now you found yourself wondering if you would have made a good mother. One always ponder about the choices out of one’s reach.

They seemed happy, the family of five. Perhaps you would be fine with them around.

“What are you thinking about, dear?” A voice interrupted your dazed thoughtfulness as your mood instantly soured.

“Nothing so you can leave.”

The man behind you sighed. “Do you always have to act like this whenever I’m around?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look back at him, fearing that the sight of him would send you into a frenzy. “I do when you’re the one who ruined my life.”

“Ruined your life? We were happy together, in fact, I remember you telling me ‘I promise to love you even in death’ but I guess that doesn’t apply, not with the way you treat me.”

You nearly gasped at his audacity. The nerve some people had!

“What? Are you actually serious right now- you can’t be? The way I treat you? You want to talk about the way I treat you? You killed me!” You shouted.

You had turned around now. Your eyes took in the handsome man you had once called the love of your life. Despite the hatred for true actions and pain he caused you, a small part of you still felt something when you looked at him. Maybe it was affection? Maybe it was the anguished feelings of a happy life that could have been? You weren’t sure.

He stilled for a moment before speaking again. “I know, and I am sorry it had to go that way-“

“Had to? You weren’t forced to do anything. At least take responsibility for your actions!”

“I wouldn’t have had to do it if you had just stopped flirting with those other men.” It seemed like it was his turn to become angry. “Don’t think I didn’t see how you looked at them, how your eyes lit up when you saw someone you very clearly fancied.”

“Oh my- we’ve been over this a hundred times, they were just coworkers nothing more. Besides, they have wives and kids of their own!”

It didn’t matter how much you insisted, your (ex)husband did not relent in his accusations.

“That doesn’t mean they’ll be loyal. You have no idea what a treasure you are, many would do anything to get to have you.” The man twirled a strand of your hair around his finger, entranced by your beauty.

“Oh, like you, you mean?” You fired back.

“Stop that.” He said. “I don’t want to fight with you, we’ve already done enough of that. I did what I had to do and nothing will ever change that. Now we’ll be together for ever, even in death, just like we promised each other at the altar. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I hope that one day you will understand how deep my feelings for you go and see things from my perspective. I love you, I really do.” He turned to leave you to your lonesome. Before he left, he told you one final thing, “No one else will adore you as much as I, especially now considering no man will ever see you besides me. You’re nothing more than a ghost after all.”

The tear threatening to escape earlier finally welled up. You cried and wiped your eyes with you cold, dead hand.

——————

Just as you had imagined, the family did bring you a new sense of happiness. Whilst not exactly ideal, watching over(spyin on) the parents and the children made your days more fulfilled. They brought laughter and fun back into your undead life.

Unfortunately you weren’t able to look out for them unless they stayed in the house. It was a real pain in the ass, not being able to leave the building. If you could, you would have left decades ago- much to your (ex)husband/ dismay. You suspected he was relieved to find that you were both confined to your place of death. It meant you couldn’t leave him, which was his goal the entire time. He got what he wanted in the end.

After stabbing you out of jealousy, you died in his arms, crying and demanding answers to why he would hurt you. When you (surprisingly) woke up again, you were in the same position you had been when your life drained out of you. Your man was clutching you tight to his chest and he was stroking you hair. At first you had believed it was all a dream, then you thought you survived the whole thing. He was still petting your hair and rambling on how he loved you and how he would rather die than be separated from you. You hadn’t expected him to be so literal.

You were shocked when you had pulled away from him, only to discover a second version of him lying unmovingly on the floor next to you. Then you noticed the pool of blood spilling out from his neck, and the knife he stabbed you with in his hand. With disbelief you glanced back at the ‘living’ version of him. He smiled somewhat solemnly at you as you took in his too-pale skin and the large scar he had on his throat.

You tried not to think about it too much. No matter what he did, you would never forgive him for taking your life away from you because of his irrational fear of you cheating on him. Well, it was impossible for you to leave or cheat on him now. You were the only ghosts in the house and didn’t have the ability to take even a small step outside the front door.

Instead of spending your days avoiding him as usual, you now followed the family around the house. Mostly the children of course. They had the habit of getting into trouble whenever their parents weren’t around. You had forgotten how many times you had saved them from tripping or bumping their heads. You were lucky you could touch things in the real world for a short second. You couldn’t before so you assumed it was because you were a young and weak ghost back then.

The whole babysitting act also appeared to bother your husband, which you relished in. You remembered one day when he approached you after the family had left for the grocery store.

“Don’t you think you’re spending an awful lot of time with those children?”

“I like them so I don’t mind.” You answered and continued staring at the drawings they made that afternoon, right before begging called to get dressed and meet by the car.

“Well, I don’t think it’s right for you to do the parents job.” He sneered.

Rolling your eyes, you said, “Like I said, I don’t mind.” Your wanted to leave it at that but your (ex)husband had other plans.

“Sweetie, I will be honest; I believe your getting too attached to this family, it’s not good.”

You sent a glare in his direction. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What I mean is I think you should let them be. They’ll eventually move on whilst you’ll be stuck here. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You scoffed at the audacity he had again. “A little late for that, don’t you think? This is the only source of happiness I have, don’t take anything more from me, please.”

“I don’t make you happy, then?” He asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

You could look him in the eye, choosing silence. He grumbled something incoherent. After another long minute of silence, he sighed. He did that a lot these days, you thought.

“Alright, my love. Continue to look after these living people if it brings you joy, but remember, it won’t last forever. I will be here when you’re done.”

Once more he left you alone to look out the window. Despite your will to disagree, you knew he was right. These people- this family- they were all still alive. You were not. Your time was over, your life stolen from you. It was only a question of when they’d leave. Until then, you’d be their guardian in this haunted house.

[prythiansprincess]

── .✦ DAY FIVE | [02/18] : TOM. ♡ ₊˚⊹

prythian's princess presents... day five of the valentine special ⋆.˚ .ᐟ this one is dedicated to my love, my darling, my angel @writingsbychlo who wholeheartedly understands my need to be stalked and chased through the woods by tommy.

[stalking] — unwanted and/or repeated surveillance or contact by an individual toward another person.

[voyeurism] — the practice of obtaining sexual gratification from observing others while they are naked or engaged in sexual activity.

home ✦ special ✦ more

tom riddle knew that what he was doing was wrong.

the problem was that he simply did not care.

he wasn't weighed down by silly notions of morals and virtues. while most people subscribed to the archaic notion of good and evil, tom was more realistic. in truth, the choices and actions one made were very rarely so black and white. often, they fell somewhere between right and wrong; a morally grey area in which tom chose to operate.

all his life, he toed the proverbial line, testing the boundaries of ethics. most of the time, the acts he committed were neither completely right or completely wrong, which allowed for plausible deniability. this time though, even tom couldn't deny his own immorality. stalking you was undeniably and irrevocably wrong, but he simply did not care.

the black lake lapped against the shore as he took cover behind a tree. from his hiding place, tom had a clear view of you walking down to the edge of the pier, looking behind you every now and then to ensure that you were alone. you weren’t. though you were completely unaware of his presence, tom accompanied you for every one of your nightly swims.

as always, you toed your shoes off and stripped off your shirt and skirt. most nights, you wore a skimpy bikini, but sometimes you skipped it altogether and swam in your bra and panties instead. tonight, tom peered out from the cover of darkness as you unhooked your bra and slipped your panties off. the moonlight glistened against your skin, tracing your curves and edges in a way that tom would kill to be able to do. he drank in your ethereal expression, head tilted up to the skies as the night cascaded down your long, elegant neck, between the valley of your breasts where your nipples stiffened against the cold air, trailing down to your supple ass and succulent thighs.

the goddess of beauty herself had nothing on you, tom thought. the very image of your naked body would be burned into his memory like a brand. this would be what he thought about when he got himself off later, imagining that it was your delicate hand wrapped around his cock. tom felt the front of his pants tighten at the thought, groaning at the stiffness of his erection.

the noise drew your attention and you looked over your shoulder, scanning the beach warily. for a second, tom could have sworn that your gaze snagged on his hiding spot, almost as if you sensed his presence. watching, waiting, wanting.

tom had always been careful, but something about the way you bit your lip in anticipation made him consider throwing caution to the wind. he lurked in waiting, the tension weighing heavy as you turned around to fully face the shore.

“I know you’re there, tom.” the soft breeze carried the cadence of your lovely voice, its call like a siren song in his hears.

all these months, tom thought that he had been careful. he purposely watched from a distance, following you only when there was no one else present, sneaking into your dorm and installing cameras while you were in class. outside of these clandestine meetings, tom never even acknowledged you. he was so certain that you were none the wiser to his obsession, but clearly he had been wrong in his assumptions.

“don’t be shy,” you rasped as your lips curved up into a devious smile. “i’m not mad. in fact, i've grown rather fond of our little rendezvous. though it does seem unfair that you get to see all of me while I never see you.”

tom stepped out of the darkness, his brow furrowed in confusion. “you knew?” he questioned, racking his brain for any indication of your knowledge. “how long have you been aware?”

“a while,” you said nonchalantly. “I felt…your presence. watching me. following me. stalking me.”

“why haven’t you said anything?”

“because,” you drawled, pretty doe eyes tracking his movements as he came closer and closer. “it’s thrilling. knowing that you’re out there, tracking my every move like you’re a predator and i’m your prey. it makes me feel special. it makes me feel wanted.”

“but most importantly,” tom paused in his tracks as you pressed your naked body against him, delicate hands traveling under his robe to slide down his chest. “it makes me fucking horny.”

his breath hitched at the fucked up confession, pupils blown out as you palmed his erection. “i’m willing to bet that the feeling is mutual.”

tom groaned, melting under your touch. he felt like he was in a dream that he never wanted to wake from. “you have no fucking idea, doll.”

you grinned as you slid off his robe, letting it pool by his feet while your deft fingers made quick work of the buttons on his shirt. “why don’t you show me, tommy?” he watched with a dazed expression as you waded into the water, the waves lapping around your legs while you smirked. “well? aren’t you coming in?”

tom shed his clothes in mere seconds and followed after you. he remained silent as you threaded water, leading him to a small alcove hidden from the rest of the beach. a small smile tugged at your lips from how eager he was, standing before you with lust filled eyes. you ran your hands down his body, nails raking against his solid chest, his bulging biceps, and his perfectly toned abs.

“we’re all alone now,” you whispered seductively. “the poor little dove finds herself in the jaws of a snake. tell me, tommy, do you plan on swallowing me whole?”

tom growled as he grabbed your chin, his fingers digging into your skin as his mouth crashed against yours. the heat of his kiss was punishing, taking you under as you lost yourself in the feel of him. you moaned when his tongue pushed past the seam of your lips, devouring and consuming you from the inside out.

your stiffened peaks pressed against his tanned chest, sending shivers down your spine as he backed you into the rocky wall of the alcove. tom’s lips never left yours as he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as his hard cock pressed against your stomach. precum smeared against his abs as he throbbed in your hands, so thick and veiny as you pumped him between kisses.

tom pulled away, his cheeks flushed and his waves matted across his forehead as one errant curl defied the rest of his hair and swooped down over his eyes. he looked so delicious that you just couldn’t help yourself. without warning, you positioned him over your entrance and sank down onto his cock with a moan.

“fuck,” tom growled. “oh fuck, doll, you’re so fucking tight.”

“please, tommy,” you pleaded, nails raking across his back as you grinded against him. “I need you to fuck me.”

the air left your lungs when tom growled against your neck. the two of you watched his cock slide inside of you, pulling it out to the tip just to slam it all back inside again. the way he fucked was so feral, so animalistic, that you were sure you were ruined for any other man. tom didn’t hold back, he didn’t hesitate as he fucked you until your back arched and your thighs trembled.

“yes, god, split me apart with your cock,” you screamed as you dug your nails into his back. “you feel so fucking good.”

“yeah? you like when your stalker fucks you, doll?” tom said with a dark chuckle. “you’re so fucking wet for me, so turned on for all the fucked up things i’ve done. the fucked up things I will do. you’re just a whore for this cock, aren’t you?”

“fuck yes,” you screamed in pleasure. “i’m a whore for you, tommy.”

tom grunted as he came into his hands, his sticky cum covering his fingers as his body slumped against the tree. in the middle of the black lake, you continued swimming laps under the inky black sky, unaware of the filthy fantasy that tom had just gotten himself off to. he cleaned himself off, pulling up his trousers and tucking his shirt back into place while you were none the wiser.

for now, this secret of his would remain safe, but tom knew it wouldn’t last much longer. one day, the desire would grow too strong for him to fight. one day, he would succumb to all his dark urges and impulses.

one day, tom would come for you.

[heartlogan]

living to learn

✮— logan x f!mutant!reader (set in deadpool & wolverine)

✮— summary: logan mulls over all that he has lost, and all that he has found, in the void

✮— a/n: i was enabled by yall - please heed the warnings! you dont need to read pt 1 to read this!

✮— warnings: MAJOR DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE SPOILERS, major character deaths, angst, incredibly sad backstory, dead kids / teenagers, practically a genocide of mutants, suicidal ideation (from logan, kind of), reader acts as a mother figure for someone, incorrect dialogue from dp&w, a smidge of comfort, again ANGST, lmk if there’s more!

part one | masterlist

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It’s almost impossible not to linger on the things that you have lost.

And for Logan, it is impossible.

He spends every waking moment craving for the touch of somebody he lost, and he’s painfully aware that it’s all his fault. He caused the loss. And he’s the only one left to mourn you, because god knows the humans won’t.

Even for him, some two hundred years old, it’s all too painful. And he has experienced plenty of pain in his life. But this? Losing you? Losing everyone? It’s too much. So, he does what he can, he pours so much alcohol into his body that he can’t think, can’t imagine what your final moments must have been like.

But between bars, when his healing factor wears the alcohol down, it’s all he sees.

He imagines you there, surrounded by all of your loved ones except for him, unable to save them. And he can remember finding you so vividly, can remember the ashy tone your skin had taken on, all the life drained from you. He can remember exactly where he found you, in front of the doors, your dying action being to try and save the kids in the mansion. He prays to a god that he doesn’t believe in that you died before they did, because knowing that you hadn’t been able to save them would have killed you.

And the other X-Men, they died the same way. Trying to protect each other, trying to protect those kids. And perhaps the only one who knew that it was all in vain would’ve been Jean. Jean, who he found in front of the children.

Where was he?

At some bar, surrounded by humans he couldn’t care less about, all because he was selfish. All because he didn’t want anybody thinking he wanted to be part of the team. God forbid he actually care about something.

And because of his selfishness, his fear, he lost it all.

He lost you.

So when Wade said he could fix Logan’s universe, he would’ve done anything to make that happen. Anything that Wade asked for, he would’ve done. And as soon as his universe was fixed, Logan would go to you and get to his knees, he would beg for your forgiveness.

And all of that, that hope that had evaded him all those years, was for nothing. For an educated wish.

Logan couldn’t do anything but resort to his old habits, grabbing the first bottle of actual alcohol he saw, and finally numbing the image of you dead in his arms.

“There’s five of us.” Elektra told Wade, and Logan paid her no mind. Everything was futile now, pointless. He was only helping Wade to help the team, to help you, and that was likely impossible. So whatever these so-called heroes were planning, he wanted no part in it.

Logan had already secured his legacy in his universe, and it wasn’t the one you had always imagined for him. He was the Wolverine, and he was every bit of violence that name suggested. Because even though he hadn’t been able to save the X-Men, he sure as hell got his vengeance. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten, until every single human who was remotely involved in the blood bath at X-Mansion was dead.

You wouldn’t have been proud of his actions, true, but you were dead.

Cassandra had mentioned something about temperance, earlier, and it hadn’t taken him long to recognise that you were the anchor of his. Without you, Logan hadn’t managed any sort of self-restraint. He had slaughtered people. And he could only bring himself to regret those that hadn’t quite deserved it.

By the time the red had faded from his vision, Logan realised he had gone too far. He hadn’t just killed the ones who had murdered his friends, but anyone in connection to them, and anyone who had gotten in his way. The only reason he wasn’t arrested was because they were too afraid of him, and the only reason he hadn’t been killed was because he couldn’t fucking die.

Even the fuckers that had slaughtered the X-Men couldn’t figure out how to kill him, and that was a sick kind of irony.

“Logan, that’s who I was telling you about! X-23!” Wade said excitedly, pointing across the room at a teenage girl, who stared at him like she was seeing a ghost. From the sound of what Wade had said earlier, she probably was.

And the sight of her, for some reason, tugged at his chest. He drowned the feeling with more whiskey.

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“Hey.” Laura greeted you, fidgeting with the strap of her bag as she watched you enter the back of the base, carrying a bag full of food. She seemed nervous, and you couldn’t figure out why.

“Hey, Laura, everythin’ alright?” You asked fondly, glancing at her as you started unpacking the supplies that you’d found scattered across the void.

She hesitated, glancing back through the doorway she was stood in, before focusing on you. “Yeah. Uh, I need to talk to you.” She said, sounding incredibly serious, which wasn’t unusual for her. Laura had been through so much, including everything that she had told you about her life before the void. Being here hadn’t made her life any better.

You immediately paused your actions, and turned your full attention towards the teenager across from you. You nodded for her to start.

“I was out patrolling earlier, and I found some people.” Laura said slowly, thinking her words over thoroughly before she spoke them aloud. She didn’t want to make this any worse. “I drove them here, and we’ve made a plan to attack Cassandra’s first thing. Except for one of the two, who doesn’t want to help.”

“Okay…” You said cautiously, almost confused. “This all sounds good, doesn’t it? Whoever they are, they can stay here if they want. Fill me in on the plan, and we’ll handle it.”

“It’s… okay. It’s about who they are.” She clarified finally, giving up on trying to approach the situation cautiously. “It’s a variant of him. Of Logan.”

Your chest squeezed painfully immediately, and you hand to hold a hand to your sternum to try and ease it. If it were any other situation, Laura may have made a joke about you having a heart attack, but she knew better. She knew how she had felt when she first saw the man, so she could imagine how you were feeling.

Immediately, your heart was torn between rushing to see him, and refusing to lay your eyes on the man at all. You weren’t sure you could handle seeing him, or, well, a variant of him.

It hurt too much. Every day you were reminded of how you had failed to save him, but you had to keep going, for the others in the void. Because they needed you, just as much as you needed them. Laura needed you.

She knew your pain all too well, having lost her own Logan. So you knew what she was telling you was the truth. There was really, finally, a Wolverine variant in the void.

“You okay?” Laura asked, after you had been silent for more moments than she was comfortable with. She was looking at you with such concern, and you could tell that her own heart was practically bursting in her chest from the sight of him.

“Are you?” You asked in return, eyebrows raised as you finally started to get a grip on yourself, shaking yourself from the pit of loss you had begun to get stuck in. She nodded, and you nodded yourself before pausing to think. “And this… Logan, he doesn’t want to join to Cassandra’s?”

Laura shook her head, looking down momentarily. “No. He’s… he’s as messed up as my Logan was.”

You approached her, drawing her into a silent hug. She squeezed you tightly, and the strength her mutation — Logan’s mutation — had given her wasn’t lost on you.

“Do you want me to talk to him?” You asked her quietly, and felt her nod against your shoulder. “Alright. Where is he?” You questioned, silently steeling yourself to face a copy of the man you had lost. The man you had loved.

She pointed you in the right direction, letting you go with a simple, “Good luck.” The entire walk outside, you were holding your breath, trying to prepare yourself somehow. As if this was something you would ever be able to prepare for.

And the moment you saw him, you knew it was all in vain. Because nothing could’ve prepared you for seeing him again, after all this time.

For a moment, it felt as though time was stood still, suspended.

Until he opened his mouth. “‘M not lookin’ for company.”

It was him. His familiar voice. The voice that you would’ve recognised anywhere, even after so long not having heard it. He sounded just the same as your own Logan, the same gruff tone to his voice, all grumpy expressions and furrowed brows. You could imagine it all as though your Logan was still alive, as though he was actually here. It took more than a moment for you to recall that this wasn’t your Logan.

You shuffled over to the log he sat on, the sun setting over the trees surrounding the two of you. He lifted the bottle of whiskey to his lips, glancing at you as you sat. His entire body went shock still, and he turned to look at you fully.

You smiled, and prayed he said nothing about the way your eyes became watery. “Hi, Logan.”

He said your name, sounding as though he was a mere man sat before a god, reverent. The bottle slipped from his hand as he spoke it aloud, his eyes watering immediately, his lip trembling as he looked at you like he was seeing you for the very first time.

“Are you… her?” He asked hesitantly, hand hovering halfway towards you, and you hated to be the bearer of bad news. But if you had to be conscious that he wasn’t yours, it was only fair for him to know the truth.

Reluctantly, you shook your head. “I’m sorry. I’m not your version of me, and you’re not my version of you.”

His hand fell to his lap, but he didn’t take his eyes off of you for a moment. He seemed reluctant to believe you, and you couldn’t blame him. He looked just like your version of him, grey streaks and all. But it wasn’t him, you knew, because he wasn’t coughing up blood, wasn’t actively dying in your arms.

You cleared your throat, glancing to the fire before him, watching the way the smoke curled into the slowly darkening sky. “My Logan died. I—I couldn’t save you. I’ve been here, in the void, for a year, I think.” You elaborated slightly, not wanting to overwhelm him with information. “I’d like to go home. Mourn my losses.”

He stared at you, saying nothing, fingers still outstretched where his hand lay.

“Laura said you weren’t coming with in the morning. I was hoping you might change your mind. We need your help.” You continued, trying to remain convincing despite the shake in your voice.

But that seemed to do the opposite of what you wanted, and he blinked out of the trance he had been in. He started shaking his head immediately, fingers clenching into a fist. “You got the wrong guy. I’m not… I’m not who you think I am.”

“Maybe not, but, Laura told me you were always the wrong guy, up until you weren’t. And to her, that means something. To me, too.” You said, hoping he wouldn’t pull away further than he already had. As selfish as it was, you didn’t want to lose another Logan. You wanted to see him and his friend succeed, even if you didn’t. Maybe, this time, this Logan, you could save him.

“You don’t get it.” Logan refuted, shaking his head, glancing towards the fire as the sun finally finished descending the horizon. He seemed to get lost in the blaze, and you watched his eyes become unfocused, showing him images that weren’t really there. “I failed them. My team. You.”

You stayed quiet, wondering if he was going to elaborate, or if he was too caught up in his vision.

“D’you know something’?” He asked, blinking until the fire came back into focus. “You used to beg me to wear this suit. So did Storm, Scott, Beast. All of you. And I refused, because god forbid anybody believe I wanted to be there.”

“What happened?” You asked him, wanting to reach for his hand, but knowing it wouldn’t help him get through this.

“I went out. And the humans went mutant hunting. By the time I stumbled home shit-faced from the bar… you—you were all dead. Every single mutant in that house.” He explained, his voice shaking, his lower lip trembling once again. You were almost certain he was seeing those images again, because he squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth.

A surge of sympathy shot through you. You wanted so badly to comfort him, to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but you knew he wouldn’t believe it.

“So now I wear this goddamn suit as a reminder. To remember all of you. To make sure I never forget what I did.”

You released a deep sigh, the story sounding familiar to you, in some ways. He glanced over at you, seeing somebody else for a moment. After another few seconds, you reached into your shirt and pulled out the dog tags you had been carrying with you. You turned them over in your hand, running your thumb over the inscription.

He glanced wearily at them, and you reached out, grasping his fist in your own hand and pulling it loose until you could fit the dog tags in his hand, which you then squeezed shut. “I carry these with me, for the same reason. To remind myself that I failed you. That I can’t take that back. That I have to do better, even if all I want to do is give up. You aren’t the only one who did something wrong, here. If I could fix my mistakes, I would, but I can’t. So I carry on. For Laura. For anyone who needs it. And it seems like this… Wade needs it. From you.”

His hand was splayed open, turning over the dog tags in his palm as he listened intently to you.

“Be the hero you weren’t the first time around.” You told him finally, reaching out and placing your palm in his, squeezing around the dog tags, before letting go.

You went to stand, and he stood after you, reaching out.

“I—I know you aren’t her. I know that. But can I pretend, for a minute, that you are?” He asked you, and the vulnerability of the request wasn’t lost on you. Your Logan rarely ever asked for anything, even if he desperately needed it, so you could only imagine the courage that this Logan had mustered to ask you that.

You nodded, silent.

There was a pause, and he looked into your eyes, searching for something that you didn’t know you possessed. But he seemed to find it.

“‘M sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Logan told you at last, the apology seeming to burst from the depths of his chest. “I love you. I have loved you the whole time. I should have told you as soon as I felt it.” He confessed, and you saw the dog tags hanging from his fingers as he reached for you. And you couldn’t help yourself — you reached right back.

Your hands landed on either side of his face, so full of care, and you watched the tear run down his cheek. His own hands gripped you tightly, scared to let you go.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, voice broken.

“It wasn’t your fault.” You told him firmly, before rushing forward, pulling him into a hug so tight you could’ve heard his metal bones creak. He buried his face in your hair, breathing you in, and held you tight. “I don’t blame you. I love you.” You said, breathing the words into his ear as though that would make him believe it. He gripped you tighter, squeezing you against him. “I love you.”

You cradled the back of his head with one hand, pressing him close, because you were just as scared to let him go. Distantly, you heard Laura call your name.

After a moment, you pulled back slightly, only to press your forehead against his for a minute. You could pretend that he was your Logan, selfishly, just for a moment more.

Laura got closer, calling out your name once more, and you pulled back to look in his eyes. “I love you.” He told you one last time, before he allowed you to pull yourself from his grasp.

You had no idea whether he would be joining your group tomorrow, but you walked away from him with an empty chest, wiping away the tears that had dared to fall during the encounter. You would leave the last of the motivational speech to Laura, who you smiled gently at as you passed her in the woods, nodding towards where Logan still stood.

Logan had gotten what he needed from you. And you, from him.

[frudoo]

The 141!slasher au has me cackling. Reader lowkey being like "well, if the dick is good"

Imagining reader being taken in to be questioned by the cops for something unrelated to the boys killing. Maybe she witnessed a crime, or maybe someone else got assaulted by the guy who grabbed her. Would the guys be suspicious? Do they have a "get picked up by the cops" protocol, or do they believe there's no chance of ever getting caught? (Does reader already have a "don't talk to the fucking cops without a lawyer [ACAB!]" mindset that helped Johnny be confident in telling her the truth?)

Does reader ever help with kills? Ngl kind of seeing reader work at a children's hospital or as a social worker and taking note of ppl she knows are abusive and being like hey...Simon...<3...did u need ideas of who to kill next...

Anyway thank you for letting me share my thoughts:)

We love a reader who has her priorities straight ;)

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse/trauma.

Deep breaths. It has nothing to do with you or your boys.

     The blinds are shut and there’s a weird buzzing noise coming from somewhere inside the room. Across from you sits a social worker and a detective, and your leg bounces anxiously. 

     It’s mandatory. You’re helping a child and his mom out of a bad situation.

     You’d suspected something was wrong the first time Oliver was brought to your class with a couple of bruises on his leg. You had immediately written your observations down on his sheet and reported it to your bosses, but they brushed it off. Little boys are clumsy, after all, especially when they’ve just recently learned to start walking. The next couple of weeks, the toddler showed up unscathed and happy. 

     This morning, however, his mother dropped him off with a black eye and scratches all over his torso. You could see cuts of her own beneath the makeup she’d been crying off. You’d paged your bosses to come to your classroom immediately, and this time, they took it seriously. You weren’t thrilled that the police had to be involved, but you understood that it was necessary in saving this sweet family. You answered all of their questions honestly—neither saying too little nor too much.

     “Thank you for your time, ma’am. You’re dismissed,” the detective gives you a solemn smile and rises from her seat, opening the door to allow you out. 

     You clutch your purse tightly as you walk through the precinct, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth. You’re no stranger to facilities like these. Much of your childhood was spent sitting beside your father at his desk, acting like a good little girl, coloring on blank sheets of paper and pretending that daddy wasn’t such a monster. At work, he was a hero who citizens and coworkers alike depended on to keep them safe and happy. At home, he was a tyrant, taking every opportunity he could to use you and your mother as a punching bag.

     As a child, you’re taught to depend on all the people who are meant to care for you—family members, the police—those whose first priority should be to protect. You should have been able to trust your father. You should have been able to run to him whenever you scraped your knee or got bullied at school, but instead, he was often the one causing you harm. Your mother got sick of the abuse and left when you were five but didn’t bother taking you with her, so he was all you had. He intimidated you into silence, but even if you had reported him, who would have believed the troubled young daughter of such a dependable officer? You learned too quickly, too young, that it would always be their word over yours.

     When you first became a daycare teacher, you didn’t expect to see yourself in so many of the children you either cared for or saw in passing. It broke your heart every time you saw a toddler with a limp or an older child who still wet themselves at naptime, because you knew what they were feeling. You knew the despair they felt in every step they took, the fear they felt every time someone came to pick them up and take them right back to their broken home. The very day you started is the same day you decided you had to stay there, to be some kind of light in the darkness too many of these children should have been too young to ever know.

     You have an unspecified amount of time off—your bosses decided that there was too much of a risk that Oliver’s dad might show up and try to start shit with you for reporting him. There’s still a lot of investigating that the police and child services have to do, and as of right now, the scumbag’s whereabouts are unknown. It’s nerve-wracking to leave your babies even despite knowing they’re in good hands. You’ll have to make sure and call in every day to check on them. 

     It’s about an hour drive back to the farm, and you spend every minute dreading the reunion with your lovers. None of them know about the situation, and you’re not exactly thrilled to catch them up to speed. Still, you owe it to them to be honest. God forbid they find out about it somewhere else and start believing some warped version of the truth. Just the mere idea of them distrusting you makes a sour feeling rise in your gut. 

     Kyle is working in the garden when you arrive, a wide smile on his face as he waves to greet you. The grin you send his way isn’t quite so excited, and immediately he knows something is up. If he was a bloodhound, you’d be sure he could smell the unrest in the air. The slam of your car door alerts the other three men of your presence, and they all line up by the front door curiously. Your heart is racing as you walk inside, motioning for them all to join you in the living room.

     You sit in the recliner with your hands folded in your lap, nervously eyeing each of your husbands. The fear that they might hate you because of what happened gnaws at the front of your brain, chewing until it aches. You’re not even sure if you could blame them—after all, they had a good thing going before they met you. One wrong move and the cog in the machine gets tossed aside like trash. 

     “Speak, lovie,” Simon grunts impatiently, syrupy brown eyes scanning over your face, watching, analyzing.

     “There was an incident at the daycare today,” you begin. “Child services had to get involved, and I was called to the police station to explain my side of things.”

     You’re shaking like a leaf, unable to look at any of them. The tension in the room is so thick that John could probably cut through it with his machete. Not one of them has so much as blinked, each waiting on another to say or do something first. You do.

     “It had nothing to do with any of you, I swear. I’m off work for a few days while the whole thing gets settled. I can’t say much about the case, just that… there was an abusive father involved. They haven’t found him yet, and they’re exercising the idea that I might be a target for reporting him.”

     “Fuck,” Kyle mutters exasperatedly, rubbing his hands over his face as Johnny wraps an arm around his shoulder.

     You finally gather the courage to lift your head, and to your surprise, there is no fury or hatred in any of their expressions. At least, not directed at you. They look more like they’re waiting for an order, leaning forward in their seats like attack dogs ready to pounce. Suddenly it’s clear to you—they may have been an item before you entered the picture, but once you joined them, you became their commander, one that they’ll remain loyal to until the day they die. 

     “I have a proposition,” you whisper, looking directly at John.

     “Give us a name, sweetheart.”