#if this is a bad point in his life why is it called turning point

[ladykailitha]

The Au Pair Boy Part 4

And this story is back!!! Sorry about last week, but I really wanted to finish the rockstar AU.

In this we get, Chrissy and the girls being cute and everyone gets to know each other a little bit more.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

~

Chrissy stayed the first day to help with the meltdowns but was a little surprised when Steve let them just lie on the floor.

Steve caught her raised eyebrow and huffed a laugh. “Sometimes the best way to deal with a temper tantrum is to ignore it. Plus, their dad just left for what is not short amount of time. He’s not coming back tomorrow or even next week. He’s going to gone for months. I think they deserve a little floor time, don’t you?”

She cocked her head to the side. “Huh. I never thought it of it like that.” She walked over to the girls and laid down next to them.

When Steve came back from making breakfast, he found both girls wrapped around Chrissy and all three of them sound asleep. He went back into the kitchen and carefully wrapped up their sandwiches. Lunch could wait.

It was some time later before any of them stirred. Joan was the first. She sat up and looked around. The sun had changed position so the room was darker. She spotted her sister and Chrissy, still asleep.

She wandered the house before she spotted Steve in his room reading.

“Well hello there,” he said gently. “Are you the only one awake?”

She nodded and crawled up on his lap. “I want Daddy, but I can’t find him.”

Steve set down his book and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Remember, Joanie, Daddy’s at work now, but he said he would call as soon as he plane landed. Has he called yet?”

Joanie looked up at him thoughtfully. “Would he call you or Aunt Chrissy?”

Steve scooped her up and started carrying her down the stairs. “He said he would call Chrissy tonight, then me every night I’m working. Which is why I’m taking back to her so you don’t miss his call.”

“Daddy is going to come back right?” she asked, his voice small. “Not like Papa?”

“Your daddy would never leave you like your papa did, Joanie,” Steve murmured. “He loves you too much.”

“Then why did he leave?”

Well he wasn’t sure how to answer that in a way she would understand. “Your daddy got a once in a life time opportunity to get back together with his band. He had work with four people’s schedules. But he loved you so much that he made sure that he had someone he could trust with you and Janie, okay?”

Joan nodded and wrapped her arms around Steve’s neck as he worked his way back to the front room.

Chrissy was just waking up, but Janice was still asleep. She looked at her watch and cursed.

“Aunt Chrissy said a bad word,” Joan huffed as Steve set her down.

Chrissy head whipped around to see Steve and Joan standing in the entrance way. “Oh, hi, Joanie, I didn’t see you standing there. You shouldn’t have wandered off without telling me.”

“I went looking for Daddy and found Steve,” she said pointing to Steve.

Chrissy looked up at Steve and then back at Joan. “Good job, Joanie.” She gently untangled herself from Janice’s iron tight grip and stood up. She straightened her clothes and glared at him.

“Why did you let me sleep so long?” she huffed, crossing her arms.

Steve pulled out his phone without a word and fiddled with a moment, before turning the screen around so she could see.

“Oh.”

There on the screen was a picture of her with the girls, all cuddled together in a pile on the floor.

“Um,” she said shyly, “if I gave you my number could you send that to me? I want it as the wallpaper on my phone.”

Steve nodded. She rattled off her phone number and he sent her the picture with a grin. Behind her Janice was waking up, groggy and disorientated.

“Daddy?” Janice asked sleepily. She looked around and saw only Steve, Chrissy, and Joan and immediately burst into tears.

Chrissy wrapped her arms around the little girl and held her tight. Joan waddled up to Chrissy and tugged her shirt sleeve. Chrissy brought her willingly into the hug. “It’s all right, pumpkins I think it’s past time for lunch. And I think everyone is feeling a little hangry at the moment.”

“I’ve got sandwiches in the fridge,” Steve offered jutting his thumb behind him.

Suddenly the girls pulled away from Chrissy and made a mad dash for the kitchen, Steve fast on their heels to make sure they didn’t try to get the plate out of the fridge themselves. Chrissy followed close behind, shaking her head fondly.

~

Lunch was a hit especially when the girls saw that their sandwiches were cut into little hearts.

“Did you throw away the scraps?” Chrissy asked as she munched happily on her non-hearted turkey sandwich.

Steve shook his head. “I cut the bread before adding anything to it, condiments, meat, cheese and then I use the bread scraps to make bread crumbs. Then I trim the cheese and have a little snacking cheese while I finish the other sandwiches.”

“Clever.”

Steve ducked his head and blushed. “Hey, girls what does your Daddy say about business at the lunch table?”

Joan and Janice shared a look and shrugged.

“Daddy usually doesn’t have lunch with us because he’s working,” Joan huffed. “Usually our nanny would fix us lunch.”

Steve looked over at Chrissy in surprise. “I was under the assumption that I was the emergency au pair, as in he didn’t have one before he left. Was that not the case?”

Chrissy shook her head. “I’m sure Eddie told you that they tend to chase off their nannies?”

“We do not!” Joan huffed crossing her arms in front of her chest and pouting.

“Yeah!” Janice said. “Miss Molly spent all the time on the phone with her boyfriend.”

“We were left unsup–unpup–unstupified!” Joan said, stammering around the big word.

“Unsupervised,” Chrissy said slowly then turned to Steve. “Molly was only the most recent run of bad nannies. One was spanking them for punishment, another was smoking weed in the house. And each time, the girls would misbehave so badly that the nannies would go running and blame the girls, only for the truth to come out.”

“Miss Emily liked to scare us,” Janice said with a whimper. “Jump out of closets and stuff. Said it would make us tougher.”

“Eddie found that one out because he came home early one day when a meeting with another producer fell through,” Chrissy said shaking her head. “She lasted two weeks.”

“Jimney Cricket,” Steve cursed. He turned to the girls. “I promise to not spank you or scare you or be on the phone with my boyfriend or girlfriend, mainly because I don’t have one.”

Joan cocked her head to the side. “You like both? Can you do that?”

“Yup!” Chrissy said brightly. “I’ve had a couple of boyfriends in the past. I just decided that girls were easier and more fun.”

Steve nearly snorted his water. He was so glad the girls were way too young to catch Chrissy’s meaning. Because, hooboy, their dad had only been away for a couple of hours and already Chrissy had gone feral.

“So you’ve had boyfriends and girlfriends?” Janice asked Steve, her head tilted the opposite direction of her sister so their heads were almost touching.

“I have!” he told her brightly. “Just not in a while. I’ve been taking care of sweethearts like you and have been too busy to date.”

Chrissy eyed him like he was a piece of meat she was thinking of serving up. Most likely to Eddie. His boss.

“But you aren’t a nanny, right?” Janice asked. “You’re an off pear? Is that rotted fruit?”

Chrissy and Steve shared a glance before they both burst out laughing.

“Au. Pair,” Steve said slowly. “Traditionally a young woman from a foreign country hired to cook, clean, and watch small children in exchange for housing and a small income. But I’m a little bit different.” He held up his finger and thumb really close together.

“Is because your a boy?” Joan asked at the same time Janice asked, “Is it because you aren’t foreign?”

Steve laughed again. “You’re both right. Though my mom is Italian, but I was born here in Indiana.”

“Just like us!” Joan said, throwing her arms in the air and almost knocking her plate and half of her sandwich off onto the floor.

“It’s all right, Joanie,” Steve soothed when she got really upset about almost knocking her plate on the floor. “You learned a valuable lesson in making sure your plate is pushed far enough on the table that it won’t get easily spilled.”

She sniffled but nodded.

They went back to eating and as Steve was cleaning up Chrissy asked him what he wanted to discuss at the table that got sidetracked by the girls.

“Just wondering when we should start looking for other help,” he said over his shoulder as he washed the dishes. “I don’t think we need to start right away for the cleaner and cook since there won’t be a lot of need for it, but a pool cleaner, ground maintenance, and gardener/ groundskeeper should be our top priorities.”

Chrissy stared at him for a moment. “Holy shit, you’re efficient. Yeah, we can start on all that shit tomorrow. I have the next couple of weeks off to help you settle the girls in. Eddie’s been gone for a weekend or two before and they’ve spent the night with me, so I’m always on call if you need anything.”

Steve smiled at her, wiping his wet hands on a rag he had draped over his shoulder while he washed.

“That’s great,” he said. “I won’t be able to keep calling on you because they’re going to need to get used it just being me.”

“Of course,” she replied. “Eddie really likes you and wants you to do well here so he’s authorized me to help you out anyway I can.”

“You don’t know what a relief it is to hear that,” Steve said, leaning against the counter. “Most parents either don’t care or are so afraid you’re trying to steal their children’s love that they undermine you at every turn.”

“Well you don’t have to worry about that with me or Eddie,” Chrissy said firmly. “Honestly it’s a relief. I’m not mom material. I never intended to be one. I like being Auntie Chris, but I’ve had to step up since Ethan walked out on them. It’s not fair to Eddie and it’s not fair to me either. So for both of us, having you come in and be that other parental figure in their lives is a huge fucking relief.”

Steve chuckled. “Duly noted.” He threw the balled up towel into a nearby basket. He liked having a place to put his used towels and wash cloths so he could remember to wash them as often as they needed to be.

“He shoots!” Chrissy cheered. “He scores!”

She waved her arms like she had pompoms in them and jumped in the air. Steve laughed.

“I may have played basketball in high school,” he said, a little sheepishly. Judging from the answers at the get to know everyone dinner, it seemed that the family didn’t do sports much and were very nerdy.

She leaned forward and put her hand to the side of her mouth and stage whispered, “And I might have been a cheerleader in high school and college.”

Steve’s interest was suddenly very piqued. “Really? That’s so cool!”

“Yup!” Chrissy said with a nod. “My mom wanted me to go pro, but I got a business degree for a reason and that was to manage the band. Eddie saved me from an emotionally abusive relationship when I went to him for weed and came out of the deal with a best friend.”

“Nice!” Steve said holding his hand out for a fist bump, which she gladly gave. “Me and my best friend met working at this hideously themed ice cream shop. We became friends when the owner tried to burn it down for the insurance but the idiot didn’t stop to think that we would still be cleaning up.”

Chrissy grimaced. But before she could respond her phone started ringing. “Oh shit, that’s Eddie!”

She went dashing out of the room, calling for the girls. Steve followed slower behind as he wasn’t really needed for the bit of that conversation.

As soon as he walked into the room and in view of the camera Eddie called out, “There he is! He survived day one!”

“Day isn’t over with yet,” Steve pointed out with a huff of laughter. “I’m dreading night time. It’s a bath night.”

Eddie and Chrissy both winced.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, “I wasn’t thinking about that when we chose today to leave. Good luck and may Poseidon keep you safe from Scylla and Charybdis.”

“Daddy!” Joan and Janice huffed. “We’re not monsters!”

“I got that reference!” Steve said, snapping his fingers. “Do you girls like Percy Jackson?”

Chrissy burst out laughing. “That would be tamer, but no, this idiot has read them straight up Greek myths.”

“Hey!” Eddie protested from the phone. “I’ll have you know I carefully edited out the worst parts and was sure not to introduce to stories like Oedipus and Circe’s island, thank you very much.”

“I loved hearing about myths and legends when I was a kid,” Steve said with a shrug. “I’m sure the girls are no different.” He turned to Eddie, “if it’s okay with you, I’d like to start reading those books to them.”

Eddie shrugged on the video. “I guess, I mean if they could handle me reading myths to them, they could probably handle that. Just not at night. Night time is for learning. They have a lot of great Sandra Boynton books I would prefer you read to them instead.”

They started talking about other things and soon it was time for Eddie to go. He kissed the screen and said goodbye to the girls.

Steve got them all dressed for some outside play that Janice loved and Joan merely tolerated. As he watched them play in the massive yard, he figured that today could absolutely count as a good day.

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @tartarusknight

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @ollieolive

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @sadisticaltarts @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @dolphincliffs @steddie-as-they-go @steddieislife

10- @kultiras @morallyundefined @themoonagainstmers

[dsireland86]

Hello! I have a dad!Noah request that i cant stop thinking about!!

Can you please do something where bad omens is playing a show and its Noah’s daughters 1 year birthday, his daughter and wife are up in the balcony of the venue watching the show and Noah points them out to the crowd and does something special for his daughters first birthday? 🤍

This has been a long time coming! Thank you to the Anon, who requested this and has waited so respectfully and patiently for me to get it out. 🤗🤗🤗

1st Birthday

Tag list: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @theanarchymuse95 @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @fadingintothegrey @an0mallly @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12@sister-sebastian

The birth of his baby girl was the proudest day of Noah's life, next to marrying you. Even though the birth plan didn't go as expected and there was a close call, everything turned out just fine in the end. His daughter was the most perfect thing in the world to him, next to you, of course. She looked like you, except she had a full head of dark hair like Noah's and his brown eyes, instead of your green.

As Baby Davis grew, she became the apple of her Daddy's eye. Noah spoiled her rotten, not just with things, but with his love, too. When she cried in the middle of the night for whatever reason, Noah got up with you, and unless she fell asleep on you, he was the one to get her back to sleep. Middle of the night cuddles were some of Noah's favorites.

Now, it was her 1st birthday, and unfortunately, Noah and the guys were on the road. Noah hated it, grumbled, and complained the whole day because he should've been home, celebrating his baby girl's 1st birthday. Already having a plan in motion, you kindly told him you understood that the date couldn't be changed because of availability and that there would be plenty more birthdays to celebrate. Your love, patience, and understanding were things Noah never took for granted. Brushing tears away, he hung up the phone, completely oblivious to the smiles on his bandmates' faces.

The show that night had begun. Noah tried to give it all, suppressing the feelings of sadness for not being with you and his daughter, but it just didn't work. What was worse was that Noah hadn't heard from you since early this morning, sending his head reeling with the worst thoughts. His heart was hurting a little too much tonight, and it was starting to show.

As the smoke cleared and the clear lights came on, Jolly stepped out on the stage first, strumming the soft chords of the band's most popular song. Noah teared up again, not sure if he could go out and just pretend he was fine when he wasn't. But he looked out and saw all the many, many faces of the people who came to see him and his bandmates and realized he owed it to them.

When his tear-filled eyes scanned the balcony, they stopped quickly, paralyzing Noah where he stood. The faces staring down at him were a blur at first, but after clearing his eyes, he saw them standing there beyond all the noise and lights. You were standing directly in the middle of the balcony, holding your daughter, who was nothing but a bouncing bundle of happiness. You waved to him smiling and blowing him a kiss, making him smile in return as he pretended to catch your kiss.

Noah was in shock as questions ran through his mind, questions like how you managed to get here so fast, did any of the guys have a hand in this, and why would you go through all of this trouble? Whatever the answers were, he didn't care at the moment. All he wanted to do was go out there and perform his best for the fans who paid money to come see his band play.

Noah gripped the microphone stand, holding it as if it was the very thing keeping him up at the moment. He looked over at Jolly, unable to hide the tears glistening in his eyes. He smiled at his friend who grinned back at him, making Noah huff a light laugh. When the bridge came, Noah looked up and waved to his family, laughing when you took your daughter's hand and waved back at you. The little girl giggled and bounced in her mama's arms, making Noah's heart well with pride and joy.

"I want everyone to do me a favor. Pull out your phones, lighters, whatever you have, and hold them up in the air as high as you can get them. Good, good, very nice, good job. Now, if you would look toward the balcony, directly in the middle and wave to my sweet family, who've flown all the way out here to see us perform tonight." The crowd did as Noah asked, making you feel completely embarrassed. Noah smiled, laughing as you glared at him with your dark green eyes. "Hold on, love I'm not finished," he said to you, and the place erupted with light laughter. "Tonight is the most special night of this band's history, you wanna know why? Because that precious little girl up there, being held by her mama, my wife, is turning a year old today." The entire venue filled with applauses, whistles and shouts of happy birthday

By this time, Nick, Jolly, and Folio had paused the song, waiting for what was coming next, already having a pretty good idea. "I need y'all to help me sing "Happy Birthday" to my baby girl. Her daddy had to be here tonight and it really hurt me to be away from her on such a momentous occasion. But lucky for me, I married a woman who is the kindest, most caring, most loving and of course, the most beautiful person I know. She made it possible for me to celebrate the life of my daughter tonight with my family. So, please help me sing.

The crowd came to life, louder than they had that night as Matt embarrassed you even more by putting a spotlight on the two of you. Noah watched how you focused your attention on Baby Davis, watching the beautiful glow of your aura shine brightly. He suddenly needed to be near you.

Jumping from the stage and making his way through the crowd, Noah climbed the staircase to the balcony, thankful to the people who parted and made a way for him to get straight to the two of you. He gathered both of you up in his arms and kissed you hard yet so full of passion and it took your breath away. "I love you, so fucking much," he laughed, laying his forehead on yours. He took his daughter from you, kissing her sweet little cheeks and hugging her tightly. The audience cheered, making Noah's heart flutter with happiness and making this the best show Bad Omens had ever played.

[alipeeps]

Episode 26

"We've caught the demon". Pretty fucking sure you haven't cos uhhh... she literally rocked up with an umbrella for Li Lun at the end of the last episode...

Mmm and if that *isn't* Ao Yin... is it another of Wen Zongyu's demon hybrids, that's been given the shapeshifting power?

(Ooooh and if that's the case, was that even Ao Yin that they went chasing after - that Chongwu camp pointed out? Or was it just their pet shapeshifter pretending to be her? And pointing her out was designed to make the gang chase off after her. Just another part of their plan to make sure Zhuo Yichen/Demon Hunting Bureau got villified/distrusted by the populace.

Called it.

Is she sitting up waiting for Zhuo Yichen to come home?

Oh give him a hug ffs, you both need it...

Meanwhile Zhao Yuanzhou is roaming the halls like a restless, lonely ghost...

Ugh the soft almost smile as he looks as Zhao Yuanzhou...

He wasn't prepared for that. And he also didn't want that - for Zhuo Yichen to have to have the experiences that would make him understand what it has been like for Zhao Yuanzhou.

Oh dang..

My fucking heart...

When the drama straight up goes "Found family? Hell yes. Explicitly yes. Yes."

But he still wants to die of course...

"Wo men yi qi"

Scuse me, officer? I need to report a crime? Yes, this show is trying to murder me.

Oh dang, Zhao Yuanzhou is now putting his coat round every member of his polycule, one by one...

Zhao Yuanzhou you are such a git. I love you.

Yeah he did... but you cut him off.

Shitttt this is too fucking tender. This is killing me.

OMG the camera acting as her POV and her glance drifting down to his neck...

I am dead. This is my ghost typing this.

Oooh I was literally just thinking last night.. they've fixed the baize token, surely they should make it a priority to restore the wilderness?

OMG it that Bai Jiu mama coming back to life?!!!

Holy shit after all the angst and pain of the previous episode, this one is like a fucking warm bath of emotion.

(Which almost certainly means the show is going to rip my heart out again VERY soon, right? Like they're doing this just to make it all the more painful when they reach into my chest and crush my very soul...)

Oh what the fuck?!!

Don't you fucking hurt my boy Ying Lei!! Don't you DARE!!

I thought you said it wasn't easy to break a mountain god's barrier, Ying Lei?!

Oooh was that Xiao Jiu's powder that slows down/weakens demons?

So he's bought the gang some extra time by slowing Li Lun down...

Well that certainly doesn't bode well...

Ooooh so if you had one wish Yichen, what would it be? Turn yourself human again... or save Zhao Yuanzhou....

Well shit.

(However, if there is no need to pursue them into the Bingyi Clan's forbidden area, then why the fuck did you rock up to pursue them in the first place, Li Lun?)

That sounds like a REALLY FUCKING BAD IDEA, Zhuo Yichen!!

You tell him, Wen Xiao! It's found FAMILY, Zhuo Yichen, not found I'mma-nobly-do-this-shit-all-on-my-own!

Well said Sijing.

Oh fuuuuuck. Zhao Yuanzhou. You're fucking killing me here!

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh

Oh god, and the way Wen Xiao immediately looks at Zhao Yuanzhuo with hope... like please, please say yes Zhao Yuanzhou, please say you'll live...

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKK

He's spent so long seeking death... and he's willing to give that up.... because Zhuo Yuanzhou asked him to.

(Oh god, he's definitely going to die at the end, isn't he? It's going to destroy me)

Ha! Wen Xiao pulling rank on Zhuo Yichen! AND on Zhao Yuanzhou!

FUCK. FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK.

Oh fuck, is it Ying Long?!!

Oh fuck, one of them has to stay there?

Oh dang, it's asking him to sacrifice one of the team...

This is Zhuo Yichen you're dealing with here. If the choice is sacrifice one of his team or die himself (due to not fixing the Cloud Light Sword), then he'll choose to die himself. Every time.

Uhoh, it's trying to freeze all of you!

Ohhh the way he just so calmly and casually wraps his hand around Zhao Yuanzhou's hand to forestall his one word spell.

What do you think he's gonna do? He's gonna choose to sacrifice himself.

What the FUCK? He has pre-written goodbye letters to Wen Xiao?!!

This episode is destroying me. They are just constantly fucking verbalising their care and feelings for one another and... how... how am I supposed to just sit here and survive that?

Yesssss Zhao Yuanzhou....

But what's the point if they both die? Or is he trying to take Zhuo Yichen's place?

The fuuuuuuck what a visual!!

And after all that... they still don't even have the way to mend the sword? And who's gonna mend it anyway?!

Holy SHIT this episode was incredible and I am emotionally exhausted.

[makeucrawl]

can u do a short where Dr. Easterman punishes coyle for messing and breaking his office? Pls nsfw pls plsnksjakahks also bdsm and spankings plsss 🙏🙏 (what am I doing with my life. 😭)

((Teehee 🤭))

“BAD DOG”

Nothing could have prepared Easterman for his return to his office. It was usually in perfect shape, but now it looked as if a storm had swept through it. Books and files were strewn around the floor, and when he attempted to pick up some of them, he noticed dirty boot prints on the ground. Prints that he followed all the way behind his desk where the suspect was still lying on the ground, smoking his cigarettes and reading his journal.

"Boy, ya sure do complain a lot!" Coyle laughs, turning his gaze away from the journal to Easterman. Those dark, melancholy eyes were staring right at him. "OOOOooo how scary.." Coyle taunts while throwing the journal aside.

"Why did you ruin my office?" The doctor glares at him while his fists curl and uncurl at the thought of strangling the police officer.

“Why’re you upset? I know ya can just git someone to clean it up."

“God da-..Leland, that isn't the point. I've told you to before to quit tampering with my belongings…Sometimes you behave like a child.” Coyle sticks his tongue out and uses his foot to poke the doctor’s leg. “There ya go. Complainin’ like some woman!” He laughs then shouts in surprise as Easterman grabs his ankle and pulls him forward.

After turning the man over onto his stomach, Easterman ties Coyle's hands behind his back with his tie. "Just what in the hell do ya think yer doin?!” As the police officer shouts, the doctor grabs his dark graying hair and pulls him up. Then, using a firm hold, he drags him over his spread knees and placing him over his lap.

“Since you want to act like a brat..I’m going to beat you like one." Pulling Coyle's jeans down to his thighs, he says. “You’ll refer to me as sir and you’re going to count each blow.”

“Ya gotta be fuckin’ jokin’! Let me up-AH!” When Easterman's palm lands hard and heavy against Coyle's right cheek with a loud clap, causing the man to cry out in surprise.

“Can you count, Sergeant? I can’t hear you.”

“I-I’m not going to-“

SLAP

Coyle grunts his body jolting forward slightly from the blow. He was surprised at how hard the other man could hit.

“T-Two…sir..” Leland said breathlessly. The pain was hot and burning, but there was a pleasure in it too, and when the third blow came down, Coyle groaned,

“Three…three,sir..”

By the tenth, he felt as though his ass was burning red and bright, and there was a burning heat in more than his ass. His stomach felt tight, tight with tension, and his whole body was hot, his cock rubbing up against Hendrick’s thigh whenever his hand landed down

By the twentieth, the pain had on one hand subsided some, and on another was furthering with every strike, the skin burning so much it felt like it would peel, and yet there was such a pleasure in it that Coyle almost felt he could cry. He was digging his nails into his palms now as he whimpered, “T-Twenty-two, sir.”

“I hope you recall that this is a punishment, Leland,” said Easterman, landing a firm blow on the back of his thigh, just under the curve of his left cheek, and Coyle yelped like a kicked dog, gritting his teeth and trying to swallow the sound back.

“Yes! T-twenty-three, sir!”

“Someone might come in if they hear you being so loud.” Purred Easterman pleasantly, and his hand clapped down again, pushing the air out of Leland’s lungs and making his cock jump like a soldier told to stand to attention.

Coyle shuddered. “Twenty-four..s-sir,” he said breathing heavily.

“Good boy, Leland.”

On the thirtieth the cop was breathless and dizzy: by the thirty-fifth he was sobbing between blows, and Dr.Easterman was delivering each of them faster, louder.

When his punishment was at an end and Coyle had called out the final fortieth blow, he lay for a few minutes over Hendrick’s lap, trying not to sob too openly. He could barely move, trembling all over, cock hard and pressed against the doctor’s thigh, although he was far too tired to grind his hips.

Standing was difficult, trying to push himself up without use of his hands was a little awkward. When the cop stumbled, the doctor caught him by the plush, round curve of his hip, and instead of shoving him away, he pulled Coyle back into his lap.

Leland let out a reedy noise, but Easterman gripped him tighter, spreading his legs with his right hand so that Coyle was arranged and accessible. His ass burned in this position, sat in the doctor’s lap, and he stared down at his cock poking out from the thick hair between his legs, shirt stuck to his sweaty body.

Dr.Easterman’s other hand came up, sliding against the side of Coyle’s neck, cupping his jaw. The movement was tender, gentle, and the officer leaned his cheek into it, head spinning.

“..I won’t..I wont do it a-again..” Coyle hiccuped out. “M’ sorry…”

“I know you are, Leland.” said the doctor softly, and pressed his nose against the back of the cop’s neck, inhaling, and his lips brushed against it through the fabric of his shirt as his other hand undoes the binding on Coyle’s wrists.

It then moved to delicately grasp the officer’s throbbing erection, his thumb strummed over his the head as though he were plucking at a cello string. Coyle’s head jerks back as he moaned loudly, his hips pumping upward wanting more friction.

“Good boy,Just like that,” Easterman’s voice was soft and soothing now. He was squeezing harder, pumping faster, and when Coyle came it was a painfully pleasurable thing, made him bite down hard on his lip to keep from crying aloud, and Hendrick rocked him gently through it, hushing him softly.

Leland was breathing heavily, tears still stained on his cheeks, aware of his weight in Easterman’s lap, aware of the doctor’s arms holding him in place, aware of the sweat on his skin and the burn of his ass.

“Clean up my office, Leland.” The doctor mummers in his ear.

“Y-yes sir..”

[matt0044]

This is something I've often experienced with other shows be they stuff I have it bad for or stuff that I acknowledge is good but isn't for me. It's gotten to the point where when I see something getting dunked yet see that it's a fairly thriving series or even a full-on franchise, I start to scrutinize the scrutiny.

Especially when a lot of the popular talking points are either memes or passed around so often, they may as well be meme.

A while back, Netflix's 13 Reasons Why was bandied about Tumblr and YouTube as this most offensive thing for it's portrayal of suicide. I was aware of how this wasn't the sort of subject to take lightly lest I be eating my foot for a full course meal. As such, I took the outrage's word for it and steered clear.

I did start to get curious with a lot of specific scenes from Season 1 being passed around for the afformentioned dunking. Such as Hannah calling Clay a nerd for referencing Star Wars only for said post to show how much The Force Awakens grossed.

Said curiosity grew when I saw many video essays tackling 13 Reasons Why. Most were negative but what I footage saw didn't seem bad. Some of it was pretty... nice actually. But still, this was the show that gave suicide and poor mental health a bad name with how the female lead took her own life seemingly out of revenge.

So... I stayed away. That is, until I saw a billboard for Season 2 in NYC. Now this got me seeing that this show had a legit audience. Not just hatewatchers but those invested in the story of Hannah Baker and Clay Jensen. That's when I decided to add it to my watch list.

At best, it would be bad but maybe a fascinating kind of bad. The kind that RiffTrax would sink their teeth into. At worst, it would be a bore and I'd turn the other way. Then I started to watch it.

Twenty Six episodes later... I loved it. I felt that it... spoke to me emotionally on how life can be so messed up. I loved how no character was totally good or bad. How even Number 12 on the tapes had his depths despite being, well, the worst really.

When Hannah reached the end of her rope, I found myself begging her to not do what I knew she'd do. When Tyler Down tried to take matters into his own hands, I wished I could be there to talk him down. It takes a very special kind of story to invoke that kind of visceral dread.

Now if you've heard me out, how it relates to RWBY is that a lot of the dismissal and derision relies on a specific kind of media illiteracy: the active lack of curiosity.

Rather than be curious about people pitching a fit about "X show" and seeing for themselves what all the hubbub is about, they just stay away. They go with the crowd essentially.

And why wouldn't they? It's like how school bullies get away with picking on their victims even in front of others. Anyone else who doesn't want to play hero would keep their head down and not even be associated with the targeted kid.

I mean, we've got clickbait titles called "We Watch 'X' So You Don't Have To." That is literally ripping off the Nostalgia Critic AKA baby's first Angry Geek. It's not that looking into a show so you'd know if it's worth your time or not is bad. It's when it's from second hand sources like very leading Video Essays.

So many act autoritative and present themselves with the kind of confidence we so wish we had in ourselves. We trust that they're editing isn't being coy and that their assessment is legitimate or, if more emotionally, honest at the very least.

But what about the show itself? Why not find any clips online that highlight certain moments? Why not at least view some of the trailers? Why not go onto subreddits or Socials to ask, "Hey, why do some many seem to like this show?"

Because between James Somerton and Lily Orchard, it's become abundantly clear that there are many who are willing to abuse this this trust. And they are not isolated incidents. Even those who maybe are just giving their opinion may be twisting facts to suit their narrative. They also may be not.

But you won't know unless we let ourselves be curious. Is the show trash? Or is it just another punching bag for YouTubers to hit so money will fall out if they make a hard enough blow?

Is the show truly offensive? Or did it mishandled pre-warning those of its subject content?

Is the show bad... or just not for you?

Be curious. Find the answers for yourself. Nobody is ever immune from mob mentality.

@tumblingxelian @citadelofmythoughts @galaxy98

it is wild to me that the word of mouth on RWB/Y being 'bad' is like, secondhand

almost every time it's someone saying they've never watched the show but they got their opinion from a youtuber or reddit

the casual admittance that they outsource their thinking to other people, who they don't know, and they can't know are telling the truth, because they refuse to engage with the source material, and then proceed to go about their lives on pure confirmation bias, everyone who validates that opinion (regardless of whether they actually watched the show or are also regurgitating someone else's opinion as fact) is truthful and anyone who disagrees and says that the show is good, actually, is dismissed as either being a liar or stupid (because it's definitely smart and mature to make a mass value judgment on people you don't know, about a topic you know very little about)

and that's the thing, when you've got one group of people saying a piece of media is bad and the worst thing ever, and you've got another group who are saying it's good and fun, then a) it's clear there's some level of subjectivity involved here, which means the "objectively bad" claims you've been consuming should have immediate doubt cast on them (though really if anyone says anything is 'objectively bad' then they're conflating their opinion as fact and that's a red flag) and b) the smart thing to do would be to actually try to consume the media to see what it is that has appealed to people enough to contribute to its enduring popularity, even if it doesn't end up appealing to you, and not dismiss it out of hand

[maxiwaxipads]

some people put charms around their house like the cross to ward away evil spirits… do you think pikero hangs bargain jeans to keep tuxam away but it only works for a little while until tuxam has gathered the courage to clean up

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Alternate AU: Turning Point

Seth had hit rock bottom, barely making it by and feeling lost. Yet he, with the unfortunate help of his old “friend”, somehow manages to dig himself even deeper.

TW: blood, violence, hinted childhood trauma, references to alcoholism and manipulation

Notes: Seth standalone story yippie! this is nearly 2,500, being decently short. Basically. Before the BPS Seth got into trouble. A lot. This being one of those instances

-----

March 14th 1993.

Seth missed his birthday again.

It was a simple slip of the mind of course, but it had been happening nearly every year; going for around a week after his birthday before realizing he missed the chance to celebrate it at all. He supposed it didn’t matter anyway, as no one was there to celebrate with him. He had spent the last few birthday’s drinking himself into a blackout with people he barely knew nor liked, though this year the option didn’t seem as fun as it used to, and he was tired of feeling like he could barely stand every morning.

Seth thought to himself as he smoked a cigarette, waiting silently as he sat on the cold bench at the bus stop. He was wearing an unbuttoned, black, cheap hoodie, along with a grey shirt and jeans. His black hair was long, draping slightly over his shoulders, and strands of it hung over his face. His facial hair was messy, and his dark brown eyes had dark circles around them. He had a few piercings, being two silver earrings and a nose ring. He knew very well he looked as tired and haggard as he felt, though he didn’t care. He just needed to get home, hoping he had enough money in his pocket for the bus there.

When he saw the bus rolling down the street, he stood up, feeling an all too familiar pain in his legs. Every single time he felt his joints pop and sting, he remembered how he should’ve gone to the hospital years ago and be given a diagnosis for once. Alas, no one believed his child self when he complained, so there he was; wondering if he was going to have to use a walker before he was thirty.

He walked onto the bus, handing the money to the driver before sitting near the back, seeing that there was no one else sitting nearby. He sighed, supporting his head with his hand as he waited for the bus to move, wondering when the last time he slept well was. After a little while, the bus stopped elsewhere in town, Seth stepping off before continuing his walk. He saw the bus pass by, seeing it roll down the street before grabbing his pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lighting up another one as he passed under the orange-yellow streetlights.

As he walked down the street, his natural limp somewhat apparent as he moved, he passed by the local junkyard, seeing the beat up cars and metal scrap lying around the large lot. He remembered he and a few of his “friends” would hang out there after drinking at the bar, breaking random junk and talking about whatever they got into since they last spoke to each other. Now that Seth thought about it, he realized he hadn’t seen any of them in a while, and he wasn’t necessarily hoping to see them again.

He wondered if he should cut through the junkyard like he normally would, as it was quicker than going around the block to get to his apartment. However, as he thought to himself, staring at the chain-link fence, he began to hear something from somewhere down the street.

“Hello?!” The voice sounded as if it was coming from a radio of some sort, discordant and unnatural. “Can…c-can anyone help me?!”

Seth felt a pit in his stomach grow as he listened close to the sounds of whatever was down the street, suddenly feeling…afraid. He didn’t want to entertain the idea of it being one of the so called “alternates” that have been popping up frequently around that time, though when he caught a glimpse of it, he realized he should.

The thing was stumbling around, partially covering its grotesque face, which from what Seth could see, was mostly jagged teeth in a large maw. It was wearing what seemed like a police uniform, which was stained in splotches of red. It was screaming, groaning in either pain or general discomfort. When Seth saw it appear from behind one of the buildings, he backed away, looking towards the fence to his right before realizing that the shortcut was the better alternative.

He hastily climbed over it, landing on the dirt before turning around, still hearing the faint screaming as he backed away into the junkyard. He didn’t think it saw him, though despite that, he decided to walk further into the yard, weaving in between rusted cars as he tried to shake off the feeling of dread in his chest; the feeling that something bad was about to happen to him. He was almost at the opposite edge of the junkyard, seeing the other fence before he prepared to climb over it.

“HEY!”

Seth felt his soul get startled out of him before he turned around and let his breath out. Luckily, or unluckily for him, it wasn’t the owner of the property; instead…it was arguably worse. It was one of his aforementioned…“friends;” a man he couldn’t remember the last name of, though from what he remembered, the man’s name was Holt.

“Jesus Christ…” Seth sighed, staring at Holt, who seemed particularly pissed off. “The hell do you want?”

“Where were you?” Holt asked with a hint of aggression in his voice. “We haven’t seen you in over a month.”

“So what? I stopped drinking a while ago.” Seth answered. “Thought you’d figure that out.”

Seth glanced behind Holt, seeing two other goons standing to the side of him; unlike Holt, Seth couldn’t remember their names at all. He mentally called them Fuckwad 1 and 2.

“You know how many drinks I bought for you?” Holt asked. “I was just trying to be your friend, yet you never thought to pay me back.”

“Oh…this is what this is about?” Seth asked, taking his cigarette out of his mouth and throwing it in front of Holt’s feet. He stared down at the man in front of him, suddenly remembering how much shorter Holt was than he remembered. “Listen, if you’re gonna beg someone for money, go find someone else to bother, alright? I’ve had a long night.”

Seth turned to walk away, but was stopped when Fuckwad 1 and 2 stood in front of him, stopping him in his tracks; oh boy.

“Listen Seth, you don’t just fucking…abandon your friends like that.” Holt stated as Seth turned back towards him.

“First off, none of you bastards are my friends,” Seth stated, his nose twitching slightly. “And secondly, I never abandoned you. I left cause I’d rather not live off of booze and end up on the street again, okay? Why don’t you and your group leave me be instead of acting like a sorry piece of shit that deserves my money.”

Holt seemed slightly intimidated by Seth’s steely gaze, though decided to push further despite it. “What kind of pathetic, cheap piece of shit are you?” He questioned. “Look, you were nothing before we met you. We helped you get on your feet; I mean, so many people fear you now! You’re a monster in a fight against those losers, yet you thank me like this?”

“I only fought cause I needed the money, no other reason.” Seth stated, leaning over Holt slightly. “I’m not doing it for fucking glory; if anything, those fights made my life worse. I don’t care about the fights, I don’t care about you or your friends, and I sure as hell don’t need you to make things worse for me by bringing me back to that fucking bar.”

Seth leaned away, backing up and pushing the other two out of the way, preparing to head home. “You used me. I don’t think you deserve thanks.”

“Look at this sack of shit.” Holt said, looking for approval from his friends. “No wonder no one loves you.”

Seth froze when he heard that statement.

“Fuck this dude, man.” One of the other men said. “It’s not worth it.”

“What did you say?” Seth turned slightly, seeing that Holt was still staring at him.

“You think I never listened to your rambles when you were drunk off your ass?” Holt continued, despite one of his friends being visibly uncomfortable about it. “I mean…I’m sure people would like to know about your past, right?”

“For fucks sake man, let’s get out of this dump.” The other man’s statement didn’t even register in Seth’s mind.

“What the hell do you know?” Seth asked, his voice low and gravely.

“Oh…I don’t know…remember when you told me about the closet?”

That

Mother

Fucker.

Seth’s fists curled as he approached Holt, fire in his eyes. “How the fuck do you know about that?” He questioned.

Holt had a stupid cocky look on his face. “You want me to tell them about it?”

Seth’s nose twitched again before he curled his fist even harder, his knuckles popping; that’s it. He slammed his fist against Holt’s nose, breaking it almost instantly. He stepped back, groaning as he held his hand over it, his eyes watering and blood seeping through his fingers. Seth grasped the front of Holt’s jacket, holding him closer. “Listen to me, and listen close…” Seth growled. “If I catch you in my sight again, I won’t be so nice, you hear? You pull any shit, and I’ll gut you like a fucking fish, you understand?”

Holt didn’t respond, but instead gave a slight nod, his hand reaching into his pants pocket. “U-Uh huh…” He said, flicking open the switchblade in his hand. “I get it.”

Seth barely caught a glimpse of the weapon before Holt slashed at him, lightly grazing Seth’s face. He yelled in surprise, stumbling back and hunching over as he held the slash with his hand. It luckily didn’t seem to hit anything important; though it did leave a large gash in his top lip, and it lightly grazed his bottom lip and nose. It stung like hell as the cool night air hit the open wound, blood pouring down his face and staining his clothes.

“DUDE!” One of Holt’s friends ripped the knife from his hand as the other scratched the back of his head. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“He attacked me first! You guys fucking saw it!” Holt yelled.

“Yeah, but a fucking knife?!” The second friend asked.

“Dude, we need to get out of here before the cops get called…” The first friend sighed.

“YOU SHITHEAD!”

Holt glanced back at Seth, barely processing that he was holding a steel bar in his hand, lunging towards him with it. He didn’t have the chance to react before Seth slammed it against the side of his head, a loud yell coming from Holt as he fell to the ground, his stunned friends backing away.

“Oh fuck this—” One of them muttered before high-tailing it out of there.

Holt felt immensely disoriented, and his head throbbed from the large gash on the side of his skull, though didn’t have the time to recuperate before Seth bashed his shin with the pipe, it audibly cracking. Holt screamed again, Seth staring down at him before raising the pipe, his eyes wide and bloodshot before hands grasped the pipe in his hand. He looked to see one of Holt’s friends trying to prevent him from delivering another blow before Seth let go of the pipe and elbowed him as hard as he could in the stomach, causing him to fall nearly immediately after.

Holt saw his knife lying on the ground, grasping it before weakly standing up, nearly passing out when he felt the sharp pain in his cracked leg. Seth stared at him, storming towards him before Holt slashed at him, causing a long gash to appear in Seth’s chest, tearing the clothes over it and staining them with blood. Seth punched Holt in the stomach as he yelled, grasping Holt’s hand before wrestling the knife out of it, throwing it to the dirt below.

Seth slammed Holt against one of the old cars, cracking the side window as he began to throw punch after punch, bloodying up his knuckles and causing blood to pour down Holt’s face and chest from the gashes. Seth wrapped his bruised hands around the man’s neck, squeezing until his yells were nothing but choked groans. Holt stared up at Seth’s fury-filled eyes, though when Seth met his gaze his gaze began to soften.

Seth could sense something emitting from Holt’s stare; not cockiness, not malice, nothing even close.

He was scared.

He was fucking terrified.

Holt believed whole-heartedly that he was about to die. Seth was feared, just like he had said.

He really was a monster, huh?

Seth let go of Holt’s neck as he slinked to the ground, falling on his side as he gasped, coughing as he held his now red throat. Seth glanced up, seeing his friend on the ground around ten feet away, staring at him with pure fear in his eyes; Seth hated it. Seth focused his gaze on the man lying next to his boots before grimacing. “Get up.” He growled, half wanting to prove to himself Holt was alright, and that he didn’t hurt him as badly as it seemed. Holt didn’t budge however, barely moving at all. “G…GET UP!” Seth shouted.

Holt, whether out of fear or desperation, stood up, and limped away, his friend helping him stand when Holt made it to him. Seth stared at the two, trembling as he felt the fear coming from them. “…get out of my fucking sight.” He said quietly. Holt hurried as much as he could on a cracked leg, luckily being helped by his one remaining friend before they disappeared out of sight.

Seth’s furious expression softened as he sat on the ground, leaning against the car behind him. His elbows stung, and he could feel blood running from his chest and lip, but when he saw the blood that wasn’t his own staining his hands, he felt…sadness. He furrowed his brows, beginning to breathe heavily before grasping his hair in his hands and bouncing his leg up and down.

He felt adrenaline coursing through his veins, though could still feel the exhaustion creeping up on him. He hurt, and he had no clue how to even begin to process how he was feeling emotionally. The discomfort and pain in his body only made everything he felt more unbearable; even the cool dirt under him felt like he was sitting on cold pushpins. It was all too much, and the guilt that was beginning to set in forced the tears out of his eyes, despite how much he wanted to keep them inside.

Maybe Holt was right. Maybe there was a reason no one loved him.

[weaselle]

i want to talk about real life villains

Not someone who mugs you, or kills someone while driving drunk, those are just criminals. I mean VILLAINS.

Not like trump or musk, who are... cartoonishly evil. And not sexy villains, not grandiose villains, not even satisfyingly two dimensional villains it is easy to hate unconditionally. The real villains.

I had a client who was a retired executive for one of the big oil companies, i think it was Shell or Chevron. Had a home just outside of San Francisco that was wall to wall floor to ceiling full of expensive art. Literally. I once accidentally knocked a painting off the wall because it was hanging at knee height at the corner of the stairs, and it had a little brass plaque on it, and i looked up the name of the artist and it was Monet's apprentice and son-in-law, who was apparently also a famous painter. He had an original Andy Warhol, which should have been a prize piece for anyone to showcase -- it was hanging in the bathroom. I swear to god this guy was using a Chihuly (famous glass sculptor) as a fruit bowl. And he was like, "idk my wife was the one who liked art"

I was intrigued by this guy, because in the circles i run this dude is The Enemy. right? Wealthy oil executive? But as my client, he was... like a sweet grandpa. A poor widower, a nice old man, anyone who knew him would have called him a sweetheart. He had a slightly bewildered air, a sort of gentle bumbling nature.

And the fact that he was both of these things, a Sweet Little Old Man and The Enemy, at the same time, seemed important and fascinating to me.

He reminded me of some antagonist from fiction, but i couldn't put my finger on who. And when i did it all made sense.

John Hammond.

probably one of the most realistic bad guys ever written.

If you've only ever seen the movie, this will need some explaining.

Michael Crichton wrote Jurassic Park in 1990, and i read it shortly thereafter. In the movie, the dinosaurs are the antagonists, which imo erases 50% of the point of the story.

book spoilers below.

In the book, John Hammond is the villain but it takes the reader like half the book to figure that out. Just like my client, John is a sweet old man who wants lovely things for people. He's a very sympathetic character. But as the book progresses, you start to see something about him.

He has an idea, and he's sure it's a good one. When someone else dies in pursuit of his dream, he doesn't think anything of it. When other people turn out to care about that, he brings in experts to evaluate the safety of his idea, and when they quickly tell him his idea is dangerous and needs to be put on hold, he ignores his own experts that he himself hired, because they are telling him that he is wrong, and he is sure he is right.

In his mind, he's a visionary, and nobody understands his vision. He is surrounded by naysayers. Several things have proven too difficult to do the best and safest way, so he has cut corners and taken shortcuts so he can keep moving forward with his plans, but he's sure it's fine. He refuses to hear any word of caution, because he believes he is being cautious enough, and he knows best, even though he has no background in any of the sciences or professions involved. He sends his own grandchildren out into a life-threatening situation because he is willfully ignorant of the danger he is creating.

THIS is like the real villains of the world. He doesn't want anyone to die. Far from it, he only wants good things for people! He's a sweet old man who loves his grandchildren. But he has money and power and refuses to hear that what he is doing is dangerous for everyone, even his own family.

I think he's possibly one of the most important villains ever written in popular fiction.

In the book, he is killed by a pack of the smallest, cutest, "least dangerous" dinosaurs, because a big part of why we read fiction is to see the villains face thematic justice. But like a cigarette CEO dying of lung cancer, his death does not stop his creation from spreading out into the world to continue to endanger everyone else.

I think it is really important to see and understand this kind of villainy in fiction, so you can recognize it in real life.

Sweetheart of a grandfather. Wanted the best for everyone. Right up until what was best for everyone inconvenienced the pursuit of his own interests.

And my client was like that too. His wife had died, and his dog was now the love of his life, and she was this little old dog with silky hair in a hair cut that left long wispy bits on her lower legs. Certain plant materials were easily entangled in this hair and impossible to get out without pulling her hair which clearly hurt her. When i suggested he ask his groomer to trim her lower leg hair short to avoid this, he refused, saying he really liked her usual hair cut.

I emphasized that she was in pain after every walk due to the plant debris getting caught in her leg hair, and a simple trim could put an end to her daily painful removal of it, and he just frowned like i'd recommended he take a bath in pig shit and said "But she'll be ugly" and refused to talk about it anymore.

Sweet old man though. Everyone loved him.

[verushkak70]

imo Victoria has kept tabs on him, or tried to, the entire time she was imprisoned - which would be difficult but not impossible, considering he was her arresting officer & probably testified as to the circumstances of her capture & arrest

& if nothing else, she's allowed to discuss her case with her attorney, & surely the appeals process would have gone on for at least a few years, so she'd regularly have been updated during appeals as to which witnesses/officers would testify, & which wouldn't, providing an opportunity to ask why or why not & the whereabouts of Fraser

but DEFINITELY after she got out, she tried to find him

She had ten long years in prison to think about what Fraser had done & how she wound up there - which, up to that point, we don't know her extent of criminal activity; but given how Jolly treats her in VS, it's not hard to believe that she was coerced to be the getaway driver by the threat of violence (as she tells Fraser "There were only two ways to end that relationship, one of them was with me dead"...)

So I've always figured that she felt she got to prison very unfairly (& lord knows - if she hooked up with Jolly young, which it seems pretty clear she did, there was probably plenty of childhood trauma, for Jolly to seem like the better option)... So she's got 10 years to think about how unfairly she wound up with such a long sentence, that's about 1/3 of her life, all of it in adulthood, which could all have been avoided if Fraser & his foolish faith in the justice system hadn't turned her in... All while quietly seeking updates on where Fraser is, at least during appeals

Plus she would've had all the time before trial to talk with Fraser, while he still thought she wouldn't get a harsh sentence - & things weren't that bad between them yet, because she hadn't been convicted & sentenced, which is probably the time when Fraser acquired the photo of her that he has in You Must Remember This

So I bet that it's ALL she really thought about as she watched her "whole life go by" & "everything [she] want[ed] go away & know that [she] can never get it back" - yeah, it would've been plenty of time to plan her revenge, and with just enough info to go on to at least find where he last was, before he was posted to Chicago

& if you go with the fact that she surely knew what posting he was at when he chased her into the mountains & they got snowed into that crag, it would've been a simple matter of calling that RCMP outpost & asking for him, to which she would likely have gotten a "Oh, he transferred to the Canadian Consulate in Chicago" because Canadians (in the show... IRL too, in my experience lol) are nothing if not polite & helpful

Plus we don't know what they talked about while they were alone together for three days but a probably smitten, much younger & less suspicious, & surely conversational Fraser could easily have mentioned his father's cabin, even if in passing, & about where it's located... Plus since there are few permanent residents there, & people probably don't leave their doors locked, she couldn't just walked into one cabin after another until she found info like mail indicating it was Bob's cabin that had passed to Benton

But even if she didn't know that then, it's entirely possible that during her inquiries after she's released from prison, someone ELSE in the RCMP that she asks about Fraser replied, "Bob Fraser or Benton Fraser?" when she asked about Constable Fraser... & could have mentioned Fraser Sr's death and his cabin as a place to look, if she had recovered quickly and replied, "Bob Fraser" - to which they would've replied "Oh, he passed some years back... Had a cabin up in the..."

& there, at the cabin, she could easily have found old letters, paperwork etc that would tell her which RCMP outpost to call asking for Benton Fraser... You know, before she planted the money & burned it to the ground

And of course Fraser would not have seen any of this coming, partly because he was smitten, but also because he just isn't "too swift about [that] stuff" (women)... He didn't scorn Victoria for another woman, but he did place justice before her - & how could she ever compete with that? At the end of You Must Remember This, he's looking at the photo, but they've just had that whole conversational voice-over where Ray tells him, "She left me, but she left me for the wrong reason. She loves me" & Fraser says "But she's gone" & Ray replies "Well that's what's right for us. Maybe some day it won't be but now it is"

& Fraser points out "But you might never see each other again" & Ray replies "That's what we need - ridiculous odds and just a speck of hope that someday we'll beat them" & all of that is clearly going through Fraser's mind while he's looking at the photo of Victoria, faintly smiling, it's easy to see that he's probably thinking that's what he & Victoria have: ridiculous odds & just a speck of how that someday they'll beat them...

So of course he didn't see any of it coming.

& while yes, I think Victoria was finishing up some business in Chicago, I think it was "business" (trading money for diamonds) that she could've done in any major American city with an organized criminal element - IOW, almost anywhere

If anything, I think she adapted the business to Fraser's location, & not the other way around - Chicago has (or at least had in the 90s when dS was made) a decent "diamond row" which was, back in the day, very heavily infiltrated by the Outfit; I don't think there was a diamond seller on Wabash that wasn't mob-affiliated

How does Victoria find out that Fraser is in Chicago? She's hankering for revenge, but how does she know where to go to exact it?

Or is she finishing up other old business and it's just a happy (for her anyway) coincidence that she bumps into Fraser and decides to take him on her horror ride?

Thank you so much for this question, Anon, it's an excellent one and I'm very curious what answers we'll receive!

Remember, kids: there are no wrong answers except "plot hole" and "Fraser deserved what Victoria did to him". At least one person (me) will find your idea interesting, though I'm willing to gamble (not with money, mind you) that I won't be the only one. If you're shy, try sending your response as an anonymous ask for me to publish!

[pepperyduck]

this is love ft. kento nanami

a/n: a few sappy slices of life with my main man :3 enjoy as i dig up motivation to finish kinktober. 18+ mdni!

"honey?" kento's voice is muffled through the door as he calls out to you, "everything okay?" the door rattles as he tries to open it, knob jingling.

"uhm, yeah! everything's fine!" you nervously shout, much too loud, and rush to unplug the iron that had melted your husband's favorite shirt. you panic and yelp when the hot iron scorches the side on your hand, throwing the stupid device to the ground in a clatter.

"why is the door locked—are you okay?" he asks, voice becoming more concerned as he hears the movement inside.

"i'm—i'm fine! promise! just give me a minute!" you're rushing into your shared master bathroom to run cold water over your hand, and kento’s using a screwdriver pulled from thin air to break into your bedroom. tears well in your eyes when you catch the sight of kento seeing his favorite shirt burnt and melted to his own ironing board. "i’m so sorry…"

in reality, he doesn’t care about the shirt—he’s already at your side to inspect your burnt hand. after a few seconds, he speaks.

"did you try to iron my shirt for me?" nanami asks, a small smile on his face, "you didn’t have to do that." he turns off the faucet and takes a small towel to dry your hand off.

"i tried to, i’m sorry—i didn’t know it would do that." you apologize, looking down at the cold tile flooring in defeat.

"oh, honey." he coos, "it’s only a shirt."

"have you seen your father?" you ask your son, yū, who’s sat at the dining table, eating breakfast. he shakes his head no, and when you look at your daughter, mayu, she does the same.

"jeez," you grumble to yourself, bedroom slippers pattering down the hallway as you go to search for your husband. saturday mornings were his time to sleep in, but realistically, he never slept past 9am. and currently, it was nearing 10am.

you check everywhere. he isn’t found in the bedroom, living room, his office, the garage, the patio or in the little garden he kept. upstairs, downstairs, everywhere, he isn’t there. and when you check in your bedroom for the last time, you hear a soft buzzing coming from the bathroom. upon entering, you see your husband bent over the counter, leaning close in the mirror as he shaves his stubble with an electric razor.

"there you are—when did you get that?"

kento had always been a clean shaven kind of man, going to a barber shop once every two weeks for his straight razor shave. it hadn’t even crossed your mind he didn’t go after work yesterday.

but when he looks at you—you burst out laughing. he’d shaven most of his beard off, but a few fuzzy patches remained on his cheeks, along with a mustache grazing his upper lip. peach fuzz and a few knicks litter his chin. this was the first time you’d seen him unable to do anything perfectly. and he looks ridiculous.

"is it really that bad?" he groans, pouting when you wrap your arms around yourself in a giggling fit. you shake your head, although your unforgiving laughs are a testament to the opposite.

"no—no, let me help," you say after calming down.

after gathering a new razor and some shaving cream, you sit atop the counter and your husband stands between your legs. kento is surprised how flawlessly you shave his face, without creating any more marks or cuts. you giggle and kiss him, getting some shaving cream on your face.

"ken?" you shout from the kitchen, where you’re sat, working on your dissertation. it’s been a long road of blood, sweat, and many, many tears; but you’re finally getting towards the end. about to earn a doctorate.

"yes, darling?" kento replies, walking into the kitchen on queue, his timing impeccable.

"can you read over this paragraph, please?" you kindly ask of him, pointing to your most recent written paragraph. he leans over you, planting one firm palm on the table, the other on your back; his eyes read along the sentences and his fingers tap along your spine.

"ah," his finger becomes more focused on a certain word, "wrong 'there', honey."

"no it's not..." you instantly retort, squinting your tired eyes to read over your writing. and you're right, it was the correct one the first time. this was his version of teasing you. but kento couldn't keep up the face much longer before he's giving in with a shit-eating grin you didn't see that often. "you're funny." you groan as kento stands back up.

after reading over the paragraph for about the nineteenth time, you notice kento silently slipping you some tea before turning back around to keep himself busy with cleaning. you absentmindedly take a few sips, then some more...and you find yourself becoming more and more sleepy...

and you're out like a light, forehead pressed directly against the table as a puddle of drool forms on the papers below. kento already has a warm blanket straight from the dryer to drape over you, and you stir just enough to get comfy on your arms.

kento knows that his back will hurt in the morning, but he sits around the corner of the table next to you, settling his head into his arms to drift off to sleep alongside you.

music of your taste plays rather quietly in the kitchen. you stir the pot of soup and inhale the flavorful aroma that wafts through the air.

kento sets two bowls next to the stove, then rummages through your silverware drawer to find two spoons. the kids are at their grandparents for the weekend, it's only you and your husband, converted into the duo you were long ago.

you step away from the stove to go fill up two glasses of wine, the brand kento had as his favorite had slowly turned into your favorite over time, too.

kento fills up the two bowls to the brim of the delicious food, grinning on the inside at the simplicity of it all. just you and him. he lids the pot with the matching glass top and makes his way over to the table.

you set out place mats for the both of you, then place the wine glasses in their prospective areas. kento places the bowls on top of the mats as you grab the spoons from the counter.

in the kitchen, your bodies subconsciously dance around each other. carefully, in perfect tune and pace. delicate steps of a routine formed over so much time together.

in the universe, your souls are tied, striding alongside one another in each lifetime repeated.

and this, is love.

[szasfuckingwife]

“Yuji, get your ass over here!” Sukuna yells. His nephew is spending some of summer break with him and he can’t for the life of him understand why he doesn’t clean up. I mean, it’s his apartment.

The teenager grumbles out of the guest room (practically his room) and rubs his eye, “Uncle, you can’t just yell at me when I’m sleeping…”

Sukuna points to the scattered dishes and opened packs of ramen on the counter, “Felt peckish last night?”

Yuji shrugs, “You said to make myself comfortable.”

His uncle has never been so provoked to hit a teen in his life. Forget the takeaway meals and home-cooked meals Sukuna had fed the boy. Because apparently, instant noodles from the corner shop tasted better, “Yuji, you didn’t even clean up. God, my girlfriend’s coming in like twenty minutes and now the place is a mess…”

“Y/N’s coming?” Yuji suddenly fixed his posture and stood up. “Like now?”

Sukuna’s brow raised at how his nephew immediately went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and shower. And how when he came out, he put on his best casual fit and used some of HIS cologne, that was way too expensive for Yuji to use.

Sukuna couldn’t even get into the shower as quickly as he wanted to because he was trying to scrub the burnt pot that Yuji used.

That boy can’t cook a thing, Sukuna thought.

But just then, three knocks came from the door. Sukuna knew it was you because even after giving you his apartment key, you still choose to knock. Yuji raced to the door and opened it.

“Hi, Y/N!” He grinned.

“Oh, hi! I didn’t know you were staying over. Your uncle didn’t mention anything..” You scowled at Sukuna causing your boyfriend to roll his eyes.

Sukuna gave you a chaste kiss before sitting you up on the countertop, “Please try use your influence to make him be more tidy.”

“You’re such a mom, Sukuna..” You chuckle, “He’s just a teenager. You were probably the same, giving your brother the same flak.”

He rolls his eyes once more, “When we have a kid, they’re not turning out like that. They’ll be neat, respectable people.

Your cheeks grow warm as you note down how he said ‘when’ instead of ‘if’. “He’s not that bad, Kuna…”

Sukuna only dead panned you before asking if you want anything for breakfast. Before you could answer, Yuji loudly yelled, “Choso said he’s coming for breakfast too! Should I call my dad to come?”

“NO!” Sukuna responded.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Coffee Crossfire

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You own a cafe in Brooklyn, Bucky Barnes' territory. You occasionally let him hold meetings in the cafe after hours and things usually go well....but not this time.

Bucky looks around the disastrous mess around him. He's so fucked as he takes note of the shattered windows, bullet holes in the furniture and walls, broken tables and chairs.

You're not going to be happy with him at all.

Bucky looks at Sam and Steve, who've just finished getting rid of the bodies.

"She's gonna be pissed," Sam says looking at the mess.

"I know!" Bucky exclaims and runs a hand through his hair, "Fuck. Okay," he points at his two best friends, "Call up a clean up crew and construction crew. We need to get started on fixing this place up ASAP."

"Got it, boss," Sam says with a nod, pulling out his phone.

Steve approaches Bucky and claps him on the shoulder, "Start planning your funeral, Buck."

"Shut the fuck up, Steve." Bucky pulls out his phone and starts searching for places that are open late. He needs to find you some flowers.

_____________________

You're up late working on paperwork when you hear a knock at your door. You get up from your desk and peer into the peephole. You see Bucky holding a bouquet of flowers and you're immediately suspicious.

When you open the door, you see the flowers and the look on Bucky's face. You cross your arms over your chest and ask, “What did you do?”

He shrugs and responds, “Why do you assume I did something?”

“Because you got me flowers and you have a look on your face that says ‘I did something bad and you’re gonna be mad at me for it.’”

He gulps and confesses, “…the cafe got shot up.”

“WHAT?!” You look at him with wide eyes. You immediately grab your keys, slip on your shoes, and ready to head out, but Bucky stops you.

“I already have my guys cleaning it up and repairs will start tomorrow!"

You groan and grab the bouquet of flowers, whacking Bucky with them, “Unbelievable, Barnes! I can't believe you!”

“Sugar, I swear, I didn’t anticipate for the meeting to go that way!”

You grunt again, turning around and heading back into your apartment. Bucky follows you in and watches as you toss the flowers onto your kitchen counter, the petals falling off.

"Listen, I promise you, that the meeting was going well and then we were ambushed. They did a drive by. Romanoff and Maximoff were able to track them. Sam, Steve, and I handled the guys in the cafe."

"None of your people got hurt?"

Bucky shakes his head, "Thankfully, no."

"Good, I might kill you myself then," you look at him with a stern glare.

He holds his hands up, "Understandable. But I already have the guys working on cleaning the mess and fixing it up. Might take a few weeks depending on the damage."

"Take me there."

"Sugar-"

"Take. Me. There. Now."

Bucky gulps, "Alright." Bucky leads you out of your apartment and to his car. The ride to your cafe is filled with silence. Bucky knows how much he fucked up.

____________________

Your heart drops when you see the shattered windows and busted door. Sam, Steve, and several of Bucky's men are sweeping up the glass, surveying the mess.

Bucky can't stand the sad look on your face, "Sugar, I-"

"Don't."

You take a look around, any man in your way immediately moves to the side. Your life's work was ruined and all because you decided to set shop in Bucky's territory.

You hold back tears and look at Bucky, "You're going to handle it?"

"All of it. You just let me know what you want and need and I'll pay for it."

"Okay...and, maybe don't have anymore meetings here from now on."

"I understand. No matter what, your cafe will still be under my protection."

"Okay. Can you take me home now?"

"Of course."

The ride back was in silence once more. It drove Bucky crazy because he loved hearing you talk and joke with him. Knowing that he was the reason for your silence absolutely breaks his heart. After dropping you off, he definitely needs to pay the guys who did this a visit.

______________________

You go to the cafe the next morning and see a group of people already working on fixing the windows and doors.

You're also surprised to see Bucky there, very dressed down in a tshirt and jeans.

"Bucky?"

"Oh, hey," he hands you a paper, "Here's a list of things that need repairs or replacements. Just send me the links to any furniture and decor you want."

You take notice of his wrapped knuckles. You immediately grab his hands and look at him, "These weren't like this when I saw you last night."

"Had to give some people a talking to."

"YOU RUINED MY GIRL'S CAFE! NOW TELL ME WHO YOU WORK FOR!"

"Hm. Did they suffer?" you look at him with curiosity.

He smirks at you, "Of course. Romanoff and Maximoff are good at what they do."

"Remind me to buy them dinner later."

He looks at you with a pout, "I helped too!"

"Hardly, I'm sure."

"Well how about I get a kiss since I'm paying for everything?"

"The damage is your fault. I'm not rewarding you for solving the problems you caused, Barnes."

He groans, "You break my heart, sugar."

You shrug, "You'll live," you pocket the list and head to the counter to overlook all of your equipment.

Bucky stays back and watches you for a little bit. He can't deny how much he cares for you, which is why he's working so hard to fix the problems he caused.

He just hopes you'll eventually see how much you mean to him and take his feelings for you seriously.

PART 2 HERE

[plumipal]

The Tattoo (part two)

After scarabias overblot, and seeing what ace and Deuce were willikg to do for you, you were so touched that you decided ro get them tattooed on your body as a small heart and a spade. After that chaos ensues-

If you wanna read the whole prolouge, then it's here

Floyd feels a lot. He feels betrayed and enraged over the tattoo, feeling the urge to fight those two damn guppies you call friends. How dare you betray your mate like this, you were meant to be! Atleast he will show you that he will fight for his mate, if that's good or bad that's for you to decide...

He hates the tattoo, yet as much as he hates it he can't really put the anger onto you. It's that damn mackerel and crabs fault! They must have forced you into it! Don't worry, like the good mate he is he will mark over their dumb marks, showing who's boss. He hates hurting you but he needs to do what has to be done to show that you're his...

Jade is... off. As soon as he hears about the tattoo his composure just, shatters. He cant understand why you would play him like this, you're quite cruel aren't you? Playing him like this, making him lose his composure... you want him to kill to show how much he cares? Because he will- in fact, he will use any dirty tricks in the book to make sure he wins, magic or not..

If magic won't work, he will result to desperately trying to insert himself into your life more than he already has. You'll have a personal butler at this point, one begging for your attention and affection,, to think all this started because of a harmless tattoo...

Azul is about to throw up. The world is spinning, he feels like he is about to throw up. This can't be happening, right?? You, you really hate him don't you? Why else would you get those two troublemakers a tattoo but not him...

The desperation gets worse, the longer he thinks about it. He cant stop crying, having to lock himself in the vip lounge so nobody sees how this issue has reduced him to a sobbing little crybaby. The desperation turns somewhat into determination, the urge to write up the best contract ever to make you happy, maybe throw in a little condition where you need to get a matching tattoo with him..

Jamil is about to have another overblot. He, he is the reason? His overblot? He can't, he cant take it. Being the main reason for the tattoo makes him lose his mind. He avoids you for a week, nor being able to look at you without losing his composure and crying on the spot.

Desperation grows, turing ugly. He cant control himself, searching you out after a week of not seeing you. He begs for forgiveness, for you to not hate him, please, he begs you... He needs you, he needs you in his life, he needs you to love and cherish him, to be your number one.

Kalim feels off. This is one of the few times where he doesn't get what he wants. It's an unknown feeling, a hated feeling. He could be fine with anything else, bur a tattoo of your friends? Isn't he your friend too?? Is it because of the overblot that happened at his dorm? He will get you anything if it means that you'll forgive him! Please, he is begging you..

The jealousy grows, turning into an ugly mess. He cant help but hate on the Adeuce duo, hating them for taking you from him. He tries to endlessly gift you anything you look at for more than a second, trying to get you to spend countless hours at scarabia with several parties a week that always end in a romantic carpet ride. He tries really hard, okay? Just let him show you he is the best choise...

Epel is enraged, how dare you? The emotions get too intense, and he storms off. He cant believe you, picking favourites in your group? They may have been there before you but he loves you way more than they could ever love you!

He is in constant state of dissaray the first day, his anger rising the more he thinks about it. The anger stops being directed towards you and instead those two dumbasses, Ace and Deuce. He cant stand their asses! Going straight to battle living shit out of them.

Only, that isn't how it goes for him. He gets his ass kicked with everyone he tries to fight, getting so beat up he can barely stand up straight. Oh well, he can atleast leech off of you to nurse him back to health. You have to, please, he is begging for some alone time with you...

Also please someone help him with getting a new blazer, his old one is currently torn to shreds. The fights he got into wasn't really that good for him, since he is trying to fight people twice his size. Only for you, he would only go so far for you...

Rook feels... nothing. He can't bring himself to feel emotions currently, too stuck up on the tattoo. Sure, it's such a beautiful thing you care enough for someone that you would permanently etch that into your body. But why? Why couldn't it have been him? He is your friend too (he wish he was more to you, but that can wait, he will wait eons for you, only you)...

You feel bad for the man, wondering why he was so down all of the sudden. You still care about him (you care for everyone, they're you're friends after all), deciding to let him stay the night at ramshackle. He is forever grateful for your endless kindness, swearing to get into your good graces just so he can one day also get a tattoo..

Vil is desperate, he is emotional. The pain of not only comming second, but THIRD in your heart, it feels like you are stabbing him over and over again in the heart. He cant breathe, he cant stop the tears wellinh up in his eyes, he cant stop the emotions overflowimg his poor body. Why would you do something so heinous to this poor actor, he only wanted your love...

He has been acting since he was a little kid, yet this time he cant control his emotions, the stakes are too high. Your love is on the line! He can't stand to look himself in the mirror, feeling way too ugly for his emotions, his outbursts, his feelings. He wants to be enough for you, and he will do anything to achieve that..

THERES PART TWO DONE!!! The literal biggest thank you to @artdolliewishes for helping so much and expanding on the au with me!! It means so much to me that someone cares about a project I've done as much as I do :,)

Also I'm very sorry for being so delayed on posting, I went to the ER and all, I swear the students of nrc was trying to kill me lmao

[nanaslutt]

Ok so I was thinking about soul swap (??) With gojo. Gojo doing🫣 stuff to his body in which readers soul is from readers body. Or can have reader doing stuff with her body..hope u understand kinda high rn. 😵‍💫😵‍💫

Body swap with Gojo

contains: fem reader, masturbation (m&f), reader & Gojo’s perspectives, perv!gojo & reader, multiple orgasms, “first orgasm” (experienced as the opposite sex), dirty talk, teasing, mutual pining

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"Gojo this is fucking serious!" You yelled, still getting caught off guard when Satoru's voice could be heard in your ears even though you were the one talking. "Okay okayy, I'll text Ijichi to come to get us, relax your little head." He responded in your voice. This whole thing was so fucked up. The two of you were fighting some curse together-- Gojo had no real reason to be there but he insisted on it for "safety reasons" (he was bored). You had gotten hit once by the curse right before you finished it off, and nothing strange had happened until Gojo came up to you and laid his hand on your shoulder to make sure you were alright, and that's when it happened—the soul swap.

Gojo pulled out his phone and held it out in front of himself, waiting for the face ID to scan him in. The man that currently resided in your body shook the device, frustrated. "Oh, this fuckin'..." He gave up, typing in his password as the device buzzed again and again, refusing to let him in. His antics made you giggle, turning your head to the side you sniffed to conceal any laughter he might pick up before you went back to watching him call for help.

"Ijichi? Heyyy, little problem~" Your higher-pitched voice reverberated through his speaker, no doubt confusing the poor overworked man on the other end. "Why do I have Gojo's phone? Funny you ask.." Gojo went on to pace around the area, throwing your hands up in the air as he explained the situation to Ijichi. You took the opportunity to look down at your temporary body, running your hands down the sides of Gojo's massive coat, which actually fit him. You felt the hardness underneath his clothes, pouting your bottom lip out in surprise, you figured Gojo would be fit, but you never knew for certain.

You had been a teacher at Jujutsu High for as long as he had, and the two of you had gotten quite close—which is why you didn't put up a fight when he insisted on coming on this mission with you, now you were starting to regret your decision. "Checkin' out my body while I was callin' for help? Perv~" Gojo teased, blocking your body off in a cross with his arms dramatically as he spoke. "Don't flatter yourself Satoru, you had something on your jacket." You lied through your teeth.

"It feels weird to hear my own voice chastise myself.." He pouts, placing a hand on his hip. "Yeah, well it doesn't feel great to see you flaunting around in my body either." You respond, holding a dejected look on Satoru's features that he probably has never made in his life. "Oh? you don't like me inside you?" He teased, covering his mouth as he giggled mischievously. "Please don't say gross things in my voice," you responded, rolling your eyes as you started to make your way out of the run-down building so Ijichi could see the two of you from the street.

"You're so serious~" He teased, using your shorter legs to run up to you and wrap himself around your arm, leaning your head against his arm as the two of you walked. "Also why did you not tell me you had to pee so bad." He said, making you choke on your own spit as you stopped in your pursuit of the road. "You are not under any circumstances going to piss while you're in my body." You emphasized, making a point to look into his eyes when you spoke.

"Why? Don't want me to see your cunt? heh." He laughed, once again using his filthy mouth to defile your voice. "What do you think Satoru?" You said, deadpanning at him. "Ahh~ you make my face look so scary~" He teased, curling your body up to his own arm once more as the two of you pushed forth towards society once more.

Once Ijichi's car, and the anxious man himself, came into view, you pushed the body that was clinging too tightly to your arm off of you. "Are you two alright?" He asked, coming up to your body. "Oh, Ijichi ~ you're such a caring man~ why don't you-" "That Gojo Ijichi, don't forget.' You reminded, looking blankly down at the dark-haired man, who had started to blush at your words. After an apology from the nervous man, and a quick slap to your body's shoulder that made Gojo whine through his laugh, the two of you got into the car.

The drive had started off with more shenanigans from Gojo in your body, trying to fluster Ijichi, which you quickly shut down by slapping Gojo's large hand over your own mouth. After that though, the drive started to quiet down, the three of you falling into a comfortable silence save for the radio playing some generic song in the background to fill the void. You noticed Gojo had started to bounce his leg in your body, peeking out the corner of your eye you saw your head was tipped back on the headrest, your eyes were squeezed shut, and your lip was pulled between your teeth; you looked like you were in pain.

"Gojo." You whispered, making him drop his chin and look at you, before he smiled through the uncomfortably, "I wasn't lying about needing to-" You quickly cut him off, waving his hands in front of you, "I know, I know." You said, before heaving out a sigh, "This fucking suuuuck." You drawled, letting your own head tip back agaisnt the headrest as you heard your own voice giggle at your unfortunate situation.

—

"Satoru hurry!" You yelled, tapping your foot anxiously on the ground as you stood in front of the bathroom door with your arms crossed, waiting for Gojo to finish his business. "Don't rush me! It's hard to pee with a blindfold on you know." He sighed, your voice coming through the door muffled. You had tied Gojo's own pitch-black blindfold over his eyes before you let him go into the bathroom, making sure he couldn't see a thing. You wanted him to leave to door open so you could make sure he really didn't peek, but then you put yourself in his shoes and realized you wouldn't want Gojo to watch while you were.. so you abandoned that thought.

Right before you were about to yell at the man for taking too long again, he opened the door, the blindfold off of your eyes and in your hands. Your face tunred beat red, your jaw dropped and your lungs filled with profanities and curses, ready to spill but- "I took it off to wash my hands captain stick-up-her-ass, relax~" He said, giving you a smug look before he pushed past you and started walking down the hallway. You bit your tongue as you watched your body move down the hall, "Where are you going?" You asked, placing your hands on his hips.

"Well~ I was hoping you could show me to your room because.." He held your hands out in front of him before he gestured to your body, which was covered in dirt, debris, curse blood, you name it. You could feel a headache start to come on, rubbing your fingers against his temple you sighed, realizing he was going to have to take a shower. You followed in his footsteps down the hall as you passed him, leading him to your room. "Thank you~" He cooed, a pep in his step as he followed behind you.

Once you reached your room you gripped your hand on the top of the door as he slipped under your arm and made his way into your room. You were caught off guard for a second, you knew Gojo was big, but you never really realized your size difference until now. Feeling yourself grow hot in the face you quickly snapped yourself out of it as you followed him into your room.

"Ahhhhh~" Gojo moaned in your voice, plopping him and his filthy body down on your pristine sheets. "You have two seconds to get off my bed before I use your own technique to kill you." You said with his deep voice, making him sigh as he reluctantly dropped his legs back down onto the floor and dragged his body off the sheets, standing as he crossed his arms at you. "Im tireddd, you seriously need to work on your stamina." He said, rubbing your thighs with your hands, "This body is exhausted, I feel like I'm going to collapse." He complained.

You ignored his comments as you dug through your drawer, trying to find something sufficient for him to change into. You settled on a pair of shorts and a baggy t-shirt, collecting them under your arm you threw them in his direction, the man skillfully catching them in his hands. "You don't have anything a little sexier?" He said, holding up the ragged band tee in front of him while he tucked the shorts under his arms. "Please." You begged, your eye twitching when you turned to look at him.

"You should probably.." You froze, your face heating up at the words you haven't even spoken yet. "Stop making me look so bashful, it's unbecoming." He said, a face of displeasing spreading itself on your futures. "God- Fuck, please just go take a shower and don't.. don't- don't be weird!" You sputtered, throwing your hands in the air in defeat before you opened the door and stepped aside so he could leave your bedroom and head for the shower rooms. "Yes ma'am~" He cooed, looking up at you through your lashes at you while he walked past you and started down the hallway.

Once he was out of view, you shut your door behind yourself as you slid down the wood dramatically, burring your face in Gojo's massive hands as you tried not to think too hard about what he might see, or what he was going to do with your body.

--

Gojo locked the door to the shower rooms behind him, screw anyone else that needed to wash up he needed to be alone right now. Your pleas and begs to not look at your body too long or be weird with yourself getting thrown out the window when your frame came into view in the full-length mirror that was in the bathroom before the shower stalls. He whistled at what he saw, turning himself around he looked over your shoulder and stared at your ass through the mirror.

Gojo was having the time of his life checking out his new temporary body. He was astonished at how pretty you still managed to look with messed up hair and ruined clothes. He stared intently at your body as he turned back around and started unzipping your jacket slowly, biting his lip when your body clad in a tight black t-shirt came into view. "Fuck, this is insane." Gojo laughed to himself, feeling a familiar yet unfamiliar warmth blossom in your stomach.

He let the jacket drop to the floor before he crossed his arms over your body and gripped the bottom of your shirt as he slowly dragged the fabric up and over your head, a shaky breath escaping your lips when he saw your bare flesh, the top half of your figure only being clad in a bra. "She'll never know." He giggled to himself before he turned around again, slipping your fingers under the hem of your pants he slowly and seductively slid them down your body, the heat in his stomach growing when your pantyclad pussy came into view as he kicked the pants to the side.

"Who knew all I had to do to get you naked was to do it myself." He said, watching himself in the mirror. Fuck, your voice was turning him on. He might be the one in control of your body right now, but the soul residing inside was still Gojo Satoru, the man who got hard watching you stretch your arms over your head before you spared. He turned around and reached his hand behind his back to unclasp your bra, biting his lip and smiling when he felt your tits fall freely in the air.

"Fuck." He wined in your voice, making your body grow wet as he slid the garment off your body and let it join the pile that had built up on the floor. He brought your hands up to your breasts as squished them together, kneading the soft mounds in his hands, pinching your nipples, jiggling them around, he touched and manipulated them in all the ways he could thing, all while he giggled at his own ministrations. "Now to see this cunt~"

--

Back in your room, you were still on the floor, your head had left the confines of your hands as it rested against the door with your eyes shut. You were going over in your head the way you looked from his point of view; how much smaller than him you were, the height difference, his deep voice, how warm his body was, how- what the fuck was that? You swore you felt something twitch in his pants. You dropped your gaze hesitantly to his lap and noticed a large tent was poking up right where his crotch was.

You had got to be joking. While fantasizing in his body, you had accidentally riled yourself up to the point you were sporting a boner? This was unreal. How did it go away? How long would it take? Oh god, why was his pervy body so sensitive? You did notice the familiar warmth in your lower regions, only in this body, instead of almost feeling your arousal throughout your whole body, you felt it more focused on his crotch.

You bit your lip, shutting your eyes as you tipped your head back against the door again. You couldn't stop your mind from wandering back to all the little things you noticed while being in his body, you wanted to stop you really did, you could not be like Gojo, you were not a perv, you were not a hypocrite.. but one look couldn't hurt anything right? Gojo would likely be in the bathroom for a while, he would never know if you just looked at it, right?

With a heavy sigh, you stood up and walked up to your full-length mirror, unzipping his jacket quickly and throwing it on your bed you lifted his shirt up on his body and stared at his insane physique. His abs seemed to glow under the light in your room, and the indents and muscles on his frame seemed to go on forever. How did he manage to stay so fit when he was constantly eating all those sweets? Men..

The bulge his body was sporting in his slacks made the whole view look so much more erotic, you bit your lip, your breath picking up the more you shamelessly gazed at his body in the mirror. You lifted his shirt more to get a view of his rock-hard pecs, a shaky breath leaving his lungs at his long and toned torso completely unobstructed by clothes to your eyes. You had already come this far.. looking a little more wouldn't hurt right? It's not like you were going to touch anything and besides! Gojo was absolutely doing the exact same thing right now.

Although the thought of Gojo checking out your body the way you were doing to him right now made your face heat up, you once again felt that same twitching under his pants. "Ugh, fucking quit that!" You chastised his dick, your face scrunching up in annoyance as you spoke to it.

You slipped his fingers under his waistband, you slid the fabric down lower- his v-line became more visible to you, lower- a white happy trail was exposed, lower- the base of his cock was unveiled as you could now see it throb under your gaze. You slid his pants down to about his mid-thighs, biting your lip as a shaky moan left his lips, making you feel dizzy at the erotic sound. His cock dripped a thick drop of pre onto the floor beneath you as you watched it hang freely in the room, twitching in the air.

He was so big it almost made you mad, realizing at that moment his cockiness and confidence not only came from his good looks and impressive talent but also from his massive cock. You dropped to his knees, perching yourself on them as you pulled up his shirt and bit the fabric between your teeth, letting yourself have a full view of his body. "Fuck." You moaned, the sound coming out muffled from the fabric tucked between your teeth as you let his warm hands come up to caress his body.

You felt every indent and ridge his body had to offer as you smoothed his massive hands over his body. Any guild you might've felt earlier being washed away at the unreal sight in front of you. The throbbing in his crotch was becoming unbearable the longer you worked yourself up. You tried to stop your hands from dropping any lower, you really did, but when you felt the way his hand wrapped around his cock, the relief, the pleasure, you had no regrets.

--

Gojo sat on the floor of the shower with a slack jaw as he watched your small fingers piston in and out of your tight cunt, moaning and whining at how warm and wet you felt around your fingers. "S-Satoru, Satoru-" He moaned in your voice, getting himself off on hearing your voice moan out his name. "Fuck- this feels so fucking good-" He whined, tipping his head bak agaisnt the shower wall.

He thought fingering himself would feel uncomfortable, but he was sorely mistaken. Your body was made for taking things inside your tight little cunt, the feeling of pleasure immediately washing over his body from just sliding his fingers inside your cunt. He had already cum twice from fingering your body and rubbing your fingers over your sensitive clit, he just couldn't get enough. He had no idea how long he had been in there for, but the water was still running hot so it couldn't have been that long.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, yesyesyes-" He moaned in your voice, wanting to get the most out of this experience while he could, he didn't know if he would ever get to be this up close and personal with your body again after all. He tweaked your nipples in his fingers, biting your lip as loud moans echoed off the walls of the bathroom, his hips humping into your fingers as he felt himself approach another orgasm.

"Soooooo fucked- heh- S-so fucked up" He groaned, your voice raising in pitch as he fought the urge to keep your legs apart, moaning out his name once more when he came. Your body curled in on itself as he continued fucking his fingers in and out of your cunt, working himself through the orgasm. "A-ahhh ngh- fuck-" He wined, pulling his fingers from your walls as your legs snapped shut, and your cunt clenched around nothing. The friction your thighs brought on your sensitive cunt as you came down from your orgasm felt heavenly.

Your body relaxed under the pelting water droplets hit his body, your gasps filling the bathroom as he tried to catch his breath. Gojo couldn't help but think how much better it felt to come as a woman, he felt like his whole soul left his body each time he came, the electricity that zapped through his whole body and made his mind cloudy was a feeling that could not be beat. He almost started mourning the curse you had killed, he wanted to experience this all the time.

With a sigh he pulled himself off of the floor, standing on shaky legs as he shut off the water and giggled to himself as he took the towel down from the side of the shower. "Fuck, it feels a little sore down there.. hope she doesn't notice, heh." And with that, the white-haired man started to dry off your hair and dress your body back up in the nice clean clothes you had given him.

--

"Fuck- fuck- o-ohmygod" You rapidly stroked your hand over his cock while you stared at Gojo's body in the mirror. It was a weird feeling, being aroused by this body while you had full control over it, but the fucked up situation almost made it more exciting. Gojo's balls felt so heavy and warm under your palm as you massaged in between your fingers. His back arched in the mirror every time you ran your hand over the sensitive tip of his dick.

It had taken you a minute to get used to the feeling and to find the right rhythm, but once you did, you were going fucking insane. You don't know how Gojo had lived his whole life with such a sensitive cock, every time you stroked over his length his body jerked and twitched, pre cum dripped from his dick, and his breath hitched, it was a mess. His needy whines and deep groanes you had occasionally let slip was driving your arousal up the walls, the way his abs clenched under your ministrations, and the feeling of his cock twitching when the stimulation got too much; you were feeling drunk.

"Right fucking- there- yess~" You groaned in his voice, stroking his cock slower but rougher as you squeezed your fist tightly around him. You wished you could fuck someone while you were in his body. If his hand felt this good, could you imagine how a mouth felt around it? Or a pussy? An ass? The possibilities and fantasies you were painting in your head were making his balls tighten, a familiar feeling coiling itself in the pit of his stomach.

"Shit, think I'm gonna cum." You vocalized, wanting to hear his voice, as the effect it had on you was embarrassing. You might be incapable of saying the filthy shit Gojo says on a daily basis, but you were sure as hell good at moaning and vocalizing your pleasure when something felt good. You wanted to hear how his voice sounded when it moaned out your name, but the embarrassment was too much, just thinking about it made you blush.

Your breath picked up as you thrust his hips to meet your strokes, both losing rhythm as you brought his body closer and closer to orgasm. "A-ahhh- fuck its coming its- fu-fuck-" You groaned, watching with a slacked jaw as long ropes of cum spurted out of his dick. Some of the ropes coated his hand and eased the slide on his cock as you stroked him through his orgasm, some being shot out onto the mirror in front of you, making the whole scene look pornographic.

His orgasm felt different from the ones you were used to, but it felt just as good. The heat was stronger in the pit of your stomach, and his cock was ten times as sensitive as your clit usually was right when you came. You felt different afterward too, a wave of shame and realization flooded over you when you realized what you had just done. "Ughhhh.." You groaned, being able to blame the unreasonable hornieness on this new body of yours as you washed the shame from your head, using a nearby towel from the other night to wipe off your dirtied mirror and his sensitive cock.

You winced and sucked a breath in through your teeth at the oversensitivity you felt while you wiped off his softening cock; silently curing him as it was still massive when it was flaccid. As soon as you tucked his cock back into his pants and straightened his apearance back up, you heard a knock on your door that nearly sent your soul flying out of your body.

"Let me innn, it's cold out here~" You heard your voice whine from the other side of the door. You took a deep breath before you walked over to the door and pulled it open, being faced with a damp-haired you. "Why do I look like shit? My face is so red." Gojo complained, walking past you as he dumped your clothes in your hamper before he walked over to your mirror to fix up your still-wet hair.

"Just got hot," You brushed off his remark. "How was your shower?" You asked, avoiding eye contact as you watched him fix your hair in the mirror. "Ohh you know~ Hot." He giggled. You rolled your eyes at his words, dismissing him as you plopped his heavy body on your bed and stared at the ceiling.

"I need to get my body back." You mumbled under your breath, making him look over to you from his place in front of the mirror, "What was that?" He asked, making you bite your lip between your teeth as you sighed heavily, replaying the last couple minutes over and over in your head. "Oh, nothing." You replied, biting the inside of your cheek.

part 2 :)

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Constantine Is Having Fae Problems

Not as in 'problems with the fae', but as in 'the Batfam don't understand shit about fae and it is somehow Constantine's problem'

"Thank you."

Whatever thoughts Constantine had before come to a screeching halt. He slowly turns around, praying he's misheard, but, unfortunately, no. He heard that right.

The black-haired kid - he looks like a kid, but, really, he is not, and he is not even human to begin with - is smiling at Nightwing, who just laughs and ruffles the boy's hair.

"Don't worry about it, it's nothing," the moronic eldest batkid says, like it's not a big deal, and Constantine just... can't. He is not dealing with this right now. He needs a drink.

And then it happens again. Not with the Nightwing, though. This time, it's Black Bat. Now, in all honesty, Constantine is not so sure about her being human either, what with her appearing out of goddamn aether and being silent as a ghost, but the point still stands. The new addition to Bat's menagerie of children, the fae boy, the changeling who insists he is Robin's brother, thanks her.

It's quick and easy, just like a human would say it, and Black Bat just nods back at him, but Constantine knows what it means. He knows the weight of fae gratitude.

The big question is, do the Bats know it?

He promises himself to address this issue later with the Big Bat himself. But every time he encounters the man, he just forgets to bring it up. Constantine strongly suspects it's not his bad memory at fault here, but a certain fae. Not that he is going to outright go and blame the damned creature, of course, Constantine values his life, mind, and consciousness. Also, he is very aware of the consequences of talking to the fae, unlike the furry brigade.

Alas, he can't forget something if he witnesses with his own eyes. So the next time he is in the Batcave, he makes it a point to wait until the same thing eventually happens. And, score for Constantine, it does.

"Thank you," the kid - again, not a kid, not a human, but whatever - tells Red Robin, and Constantine immediately snaps his head to him, pointing a finger at the smiling fae.

"I mean no disrespect, but what are you doing?"

The kid - Danny, as he insists to be called, although Constantine knows better than to call a fae by any name - tilts his head to the side. He looks confused, but there's a sly glint to his blue eyes. Oh, the fucker knows exactly what he means. He just doesn't want to admit to it.

"What do you mean?" It's not him, but Red Robin asking, and Constantine turns to look him in the eyes. Mask. Whatever.

"He is thanking-" a terrible thought crosses Constantine's mind, and he stares at Red Robin with horror, "Oh, don't tell me you were all thanking him and apologizing to him like he is a human being."

"I don't see how this is your business," Red Robin scolds, and his eyes narrow. Constantine can't see his actual eyes through the mask, but he knows the Bats well enough to know the kid looks as deadpan as he can.

"You can't do that!" He reaches down to the pocket where he keeps his cigarettes, but stops halfway. Right, no smoking in the Batcave. Wait, he never obeyed that rule! Constantine turns to glare at the fae boy. Danny appears as innocent as a newborn baby. Little bastard.

"Quit making a scene," comes another voice, and this one John recognizes, turning to look at little Robin. Now that he thinks about it, the demonic child claimed the fae as his brother, and he definitely should know how to talk to fae!

"Why didn't you tell them about the rules?!" He asks Robin, and the kid doesn't even bat an eye at him.

"You will not accuse me of incompetence in front of my brother," Robin huffs, not stepping closer and keeping one hand on his hip, "I did."

"You-"

"Okay, how about you calm down?" Danny interjects, and John is positive this is the first time he's heard the boy say anything other than 'thank you'. He turns to the fae, facing him, and, oh, Jesus, those are not human eyes. Or teeth. Or face. Holy fuck how do Bats live with this, it's like uncanny valley but hundreds times worse.

"If I tell you I use it for easier access, will you leave it be?" The fae tilts his head again, and this time it is not in confusion, but in the eerie manner of how all very much not human beings do it. Constantine swallows, but doesn't back down.

"Access to what, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Transportation," Danny provides. This does not explain shit and he knows it. Red Robin groans and rolls his eyes.

"We use it to summon Danny if we need him. It's faster than calling or texting."

Constantine freezes.

These fucking kids. Are using the fae debts. To summon him. Because they don't like texting.

Do they know that they can literally ask a fae to destroy a small country to fulfill a debt like that? It's not just a small favor, it's a gratitude. Fae take their gratitude very seriously. They value it. A lot.

Actually, you know what, no. John is not going to be explaining that part to them because God knows the batkids are all batshit crazy and this is an opportunity he is not willing to give them.

So he just nods stiffly, turns around, and heads to the zeta tube.

"Thank you for caring about my family," he hears a voice behind him, full of mischief and joy. Constantine feels the weight of the newly acquired debt, or better call it a favor, bind itself to his soul, and, great, he now has the power to part the sea like Moses, but only once.

He needs a drink. No, correction, he needs a whole bar to himself.

Wait, that's an idea.

"Get me a bottle of good bourbon, and we're even," he throws around his shoulder, stepping into a zeta tube.

When he steps out of it, there's an unlabeled bottle in his hand. John sighs and opens it, foregoing the glass or cup and drinking straight from the neck.

...It's good bourbon.

Inspired by @blackfoxsposts

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[sematarygirls]

   EX-CONVICT!BABYDADDY!RAFE x FEM!READER

WARNINGS .ᐟ unprotected p in v, breeding kink if you squint, heavyyyy angst, rafe being an asshole (as per usual), brief mentions of guns/police raid and drugs

NOTES .ᐟ guys, i need him so bad, like actually. based on this concept from my silly little brain. dad!rafe stays in my mind 24/7, but this is me we're talking about, so of course, i had to put a lil spin on it. also this turned out way longer than i meant it to, woah

After almost four years, you were finally starting to feel like you were getting your shit together. You were living in a nice house in a nice neighborhood where everyone knew everyone—the kind of place where people literally asked their neighbors for cups of sugar. You had a stable job that allowed you to live comfortably and provide for yourself and your daughter, and you had a big St. Bernard, lovingly named Moonshine after you'd watched one too many episodes of Moonshiners, that provided a sense of safety and security when the nights were cold and the paranoia started to creep into your mind.

Being a single mom was not easy, and it definitely hadn't been a part of your life plan, but then, you met Rafe Cameron—the ever charming, sweet talking man that he was. He swept you up and made you feel like the only girl in the world, like nothing else mattered as long as you were by his side, so when you found out you were pregnant, you were over the moon at the idea of starting a family with him.

But Rafe Cameron was a liar. He was selfish and manipulative, and he turned your life right on it's head.

You could still remember the day the police kicked in the door of your apartment, bursting in with guns drawn, pointed directly at you. You were eight months pregnant and having a gun pointed at you—at your baby—made you physically ill.

They had raided the apartment and found copious amounts of drugs. Your heart dropped, and you immediately felt like an idiot. How had you not known? You knew he made more money than he realistically should have, but the thought never even crossed your mind that this could be the reason. You were heartbroken and angry. Angry that he had lied. Angry that he put you in this position. And, angry that he was leaving you.

Rafe was arrested, and eventually charged with possession with intent to distribute due to the amount of drugs they found, which resulted in a five year sentence. You were sad and angry, not only because you were losing the man you always thought was the love of your life, but also because now, you were alone, and your daughter wouldn't know her father for the first five years of her life.

This anger and resentment festered, mixing with longing and a deep, aching sadness. You couldn't bring yourself to answer his calls or letters, let alone visit him. You didn't know who he was anymore. The man that you saw sporting handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit at his trial was not the same man you fell in love with, and you wouldn't pretend like he was.

You had known Rafe's release date was approaching, but you were under the impression that you still had a little over a year to plan on what you were going to do when it finally came. That's why you were so unsuspecting when you went to answer the harsh knock at your door.

It was a Thursday night, and you were cuddled up on the couch with Moonshine, who was practically the size of you. A horror movie was playing on the TV before you, one you'd seen practically a million times, and every few minutes, your gaze would flicker to the baby monitor on the coffee table that displayed the feedback from a camera in your daughter, Rhiannon's, room.

You jumped a little at the harsh sound of a knock on your front door, the horror movie already having you on edge. You could be paranoid sometimes, especially being a single mom, so realistically, you knew you shouldn't have been watching it so late at night, but they were your guilty pleasures that you couldn't indulge in the light of day because of your toddler.

Moonshine immediately jumped up, a low growl escaping his throat as his hair stood on end. Your brows furrowed at his odd behavior, pausing the movie and unfurling yourself from your comfortable position. Your steps were soft on the hardwood, your socks cushioning the sound as you padded over to the front door, patting the dog's head comfortingly as you unlocked the door, completely unaware with what would greet you on the other side.

As you opened the door, the cool night air hit you, carrying with it the faint scent of cigarette smoke. You blinked in surprise, expecting to see a neighbor, but instead, you found yourself face to face with Rafe Cameron.

Your eyes widened, the air knocked from your lungs as you took him in. He was changed, broader and more imposing, his muscles flexing under his tight black t-shirt as he crossed his arms. His hair was buzzed, his chiseled jawline sporting stubble that made him look older, more mature.

He looked so different, but still, somehow, the same. You were hit by a wave of emotions—longing, love, sadness, but most presently, anger. Who did he think he was showing up unannounced in the middle of the night after all these years, especially looking so unapologetic and devastatingly handsome.

His piercing blue eyes bore into yours, captivating and dangerous like a wave pulling you under when you least expected it. "Hey, baby," he greeted, his voice low and smooth, like honey dripping off his tongue. The term of endearment fell from his lips without any semblance of warmth as he stared at you with an intensity that made you want to shrink in on yourself.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, your jaw clenching and grip on the door's edge tightening. You shivered a little as the cold air bit at your bare skin, barely registering the low growls of Moonshine behind you due to your tunnel vision on the man standing before you.

He smirked confidently, knowing the effect he had on you—the effect he always had on you. His eyebrow arched as he took in your appearance, his eyes lingering on your bare thighs, courtesy of your pajama shorts. "Aren't you going to invite me in, sweetheart? It's been a long time." He took a step forward, his broad frame filling the doorway intimidatingly.

You swallowed hard, resisting the urge to step back and let him intimidate you into getting what he wanted. You craned your neck to look up at him, his close proximity looming over you, making him seem even taller and more imposing than he already was. "And whose fault is that?" You managed to say, despite the pit in your stomach—a mix of dread, anxiety, and strangely, desire.

Rafe's gaze sharpened, his eyes glinting dangerously. He uncrossed his arms and braced one hand on the doorframe beside your head, leaning in closer. It made your breath catch in your throat, but you held firm. You couldn't let him see that he was getting to you. "Let me in," he clenched his jaw. His anger at you for abandoning him in there had been bubbling up, and your defiance was bringing it to the surface.

A light flickering on in the house across the street caught your eye. Old lady Flanigan had a habit of making everyone else's business, her business, and she was a nasty gossip. Unless you wanted people talking, you either had to let him in or get him to leave, and one of those would be a nearly impossible feat. "Rafe, you can't be here. You can't just barge back into my life after all this time," you told him firmly, your own eyes blazing with a fiery intensity.

"And why not?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. His body was practically vibrating with pent-up anger, his muscles taut as he leaned in closer, his breath fanning across your face. "Did you ever think about me? Did you ever think about what you did to us?"

"What I did?" You scoffed, anger bubbling up inside you at his accusation, blaming you as if he wasn't the one that went to prison and left you alone. "Are you fucking kidding me?" The old woman across the street was now shamelessly watching through her window, and you knew you had no choice but to let him in before her nosey ass called the cops on the strange, clearly out of place man lurking in the neighborhood.

He followed your eyes, looking over his shoulder to the nosy neighbor, his expression darkening. Without another word, he pushed past you, entering the house and forcing you to step back.

Your jaw clenched at his blatant disregard or respect for your wishes as you gently closed the door behind you. Moonshine barked, baring his teeth at the intruder, clearly sensing the tension and jumping into action to protect his family. "Moonshine, stop," you told him firmly. You were proud of him, but you didn't want his barking to wake Rhiannon. The last thing you could deal with right now was Rafe and a crying toddler. You could only focus on one temper tantrum at a time.

Rafe's eyes narrowed as he watched you control your dog, a muscle ticking in his jaw. His gaze then swept the interior of your home, taking in every detail as if memorizing it. "Nice place," he commented flatly, turning back to face you. "Where's my kid?"

You took a deep breath, your gaze hard at him calling your daughter his kid, like he had any right. He didn't even know her name or that she was a girl. "She's asleep," you told him, crossing your arms over your chest.

His piercing eyes bore into yours, unyielding. "Her name." he demanded gruffly.

"Rhiannon," you informed him hesitantly, your gaze darting to the monitor on the coffee table, making sure she was still asleep.

His expression flickered briefly, a flash of something softer, almost vulnerable, in his eyes before it was quickly concealed. He nodded once. "I want to see her." It wasn't a request. His posture remained tense and coiled, ready to react to your response.

You huffed, running a hand through your hair and heading to the kitchen with him hot on your heels. Maybe you wanted to busy yourself. Maybe you wanted an excuse not to have to look at him. Maybe you just wanted to walk away from him, to assert some kind of power. Either way, your next words were spoken with your back to him. "I told you. She's asleep. It's the middle of the fucking night, Rafe, what did you expect?"

He followed you into the kitchen, his presence overwhelming in the small space. The air felt charged, thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. "I don't give a fuck what time it is," he growled, his voice low and intense. "I've missed four years of her life already."

You rounded the kitchen island, planting your hands on it as you turned to face him, feeling more comfortable with the counter between you. Not because you were scared of him but because, despite yourself and despite your anger, you longed to touch him and have him touch you. "And whose fucking fault is that, huh?" You asked angrily, echoing your earlier words that he had ignored.

Rafe's expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he stared back at you. The muscle in his jaw clenched as he ground his teeth together, trying to rein in his anger. "Yours," he bit out. "You left me in there," he accused.

"You left me out here!" Your voice raised slightly before you caught yourself, letting out a hard breath. The only way you could keep yourself from getting sad, from crying over the loss of the only man you'd ever truly loved, was getting angry at him.

"You think I wanted to go to prison?" He hissed, rounding the island and backing you against the counter. "You think I had a fucking choice?"

"You did have a choice," you said sharply, bracing your hands on the counter behind you as you stared up at him. "You chose to deal drugs, and you chose to keep dealing even after you found out I was pregnant. Prison was just the consequence of all your shitty choices."

His hand came up, slamming on the cabinet beside your head, the sound making you jump slightly. "And what about you?" He seethed, his chest heaving as his breath came in short, angry bursts. "What about your choices, huh? You could've waited for me."

"I did what I had to do," you said, glaring at him. You weren't quite sure what else to say. You had to protect yourself, your own feelings, and your child. You couldn't have stayed in touch, sick with worry every night while you soothed a colicky baby all by yourself. You had to forget him; it was better that way, easier.

"What you had to do," he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm and the faintest hint of hurt. "You moved on pretty quick, didn't you? Found some new dick to warm your bed, is that it?"

"Fuck you," you spat, the words stabbing you like a knife to the heart. You hadn't been able to bring yourself to even look at another man since he went away. You told yourself it was just because of Rhiannon, that you were focusing on raising her and being the best mother you could be, but deep down, you knew it was because your heart would always belong to Rafe.

"Is that it?" he repeated, his face inches from yours. His voice was low, his eyes searching yours for something. "You found some other man to replace me?"

"Maybe I have," you said stubbornly. You knew you were being petty, wanting him to hurt like you hurt, but you also knew you were a shit liar, so there was no way in hell he would actually believe you. "Maybe I have moved on."

His other hand shot out, gripping your chin roughly as he forced you to look at him. "Bullshit," he growled, looking down at you, his blue eyes darkened. "I can see it in your eyes. You haven't moved on to shit."

You stared up at him defiantly, your chest heaving with anger, which only intensified when you felt the wetness between your thighs. Even after all this time, all it took was a look and a simple touch to get you so wet, and as much as you hated it, you couldn't deny that something about his post-prison appearance—how rugged and large he was—made your knees week.

His hand tightened on your chin as he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a brutal, demanding kiss. It was clear he was angry, punishing you for the words you'd spoken, and you knew you should've pushed him away—yelled at him and told him to get the fuck out of your house—but you didn't.

Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you kissed him with an intensity that matched the war going on within you—the jumbled mess of love and hate that he had brought up within you.

He groaned into the kiss, his hands gripping your face roughly as he devoured your mouth. He pushed you further back against the counter that was now digging into your lower back, his body pinning you in place. You could feel his anger, his frustration, his desperation, and it only fueled your own emotions.

The kiss was raw and charged with a passionate mix of need, longing, and pure, unbridled anger, both of you trying to show the other that this wasn't a surrender of power or giving into the other and accepting blame. The kiss itself was an argument, a fight all of its own that didn't require words.

He hands went to your hips, lifting you onto the counter and stepping between your parted legs. Tearing his mouth from yours, he began kissing along your jawline and down the column of your throat. His lips were hot and insistent, his teeth nipping at your skin as he continued to mark you.

You panted, your chest heaving for an entirely different reason now as you let out soft gasps and breathy sounds of approval, your head falling back against the cabinet behind your head. You had forgotten how good he was with his mouth, always knowing exactly how to drive you wild.

He took advantage of the exposed column of your throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. His hands gripped your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the counter. You let out a low moan, your nails raking against his buzzed scalp. As sexy as he looked with a buzzcut, you wished you could run your fingers through his hair, tugging on it slightly everytime he touched you just right.

"Mmm," he hummed against your skin, his voice a low vibration that seemed to go straight to your core. He kissed his way back up to your mouth, his hips pushing forward to press his hardness against your core. "Did you forget how good I am, baby?"

You internally rolled your eyes at his cocky tone, like he had won. "God, do you ever shut up?" You asked, sounding less annoyed and effective since you were still breathless from his kisses.

His hips thrust forward again, making an involuntary whine fall from your lips at the feeling. "Not when I'm right." He smirked, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His smirk was as frustratingly handsome as it had always been, and it made you want to smack him and kiss him all at once. "And I am."

"Don't be a dickhead," you glared at him, his arrogance and your own unyielding need for him only heightening your frustration. You were desperate and aching for him, but you refused to give in and beg him like you wanted to.

"Then quit acting like you're not soaking wet for me." His grip on your thighs tightened, calloused fingers digging into the soft flesh. "I bet if I slipped my hand into your shorts, I'd find you drenched and ready for me, wouldn't I?"

His smug tone infuriated you and turned you on all at once. "Shut up, Rafe," you demanded, balling your fist into the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer, so you could press your lips to his, forcing him to shut up and quit pissing you off.

Your grip on his shirt loosened, hand sliding down his hard, muscular chest to his waistband. You had always seen the trope of guys working out their frustrations in prison movies, but you didn't know that was actually a thing. Your fingers fumbled with his belt as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, sliding it along yours in a way that had you moaning against his lips

He groaned low in his throat as you finally worked the belt buckle open, sliding the leather through the loops and dropping it to the floor with a clank. His hands immediately slid up your thighs, hooking into the waistband of your shorts and pulling them down your legs—with the help of you awkwardly shifting to lift your ass enough to do so.

He discarded the garments to the floor with his belt, his palms running along your bare thighs as he parted your legs wider, opening you to him. His calloused fingertips brushed against your center, feeling your slick folds, making you gasp into his mouth. "Told you," he grinned against your lips, finding it in himself to be a complete dick, even when he was about to be inside you.

"Asshole," you mumbled, fingers deftly popping open the button of his jeans and unzipping them. You hooked your fingers in his waistband, shoving his pants and underwear down as he had done to you.

He kicked his pants and boxers off the rest of the way, stepping between your thighs again. His hard cock was flushed, the tip glistening with precum. He gripped himself at the base, rubbing the head through your slick folds teasingly. "What was that, baby?"

Your breath caught in your throat. "Just put your dick inside me before I kill you," you threatened him, though you both knew you wouldn't do anything, not really.

He chuckled lowly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "You want it so bad, don't you?" He teased, his tip nudging against your entrance but not pushing inside. "Beg for it, baby. Let me hear how much you need my cock." He didn't need to be angry when he could punish you like this. He knew begging was the last thing you wanted to do, but he also knew that you'd do it.

"Don't piss me off right now, Rafe," you gritted your teeth, the feeling of him against your entrance making you dizzy with desire.

"Or what, baby? You'll what?" He pressed against you again, the tip of his cock pushing inside just slightly before pulling back out. "Tell me what you'll do if I don't give you what you want." He was pushing your buttons, knowing exactly how to make you snap.

You practically whimpered at the feeling of him pulling out. "Fuck- fine, please, Rafe," you panted, furious with yourself and him that you were giving into him. "Please just fuck me already."

The confident, victorious smirk that instantly appeared on his face had you wanting to slap him. "Now was that so hard?" He condescend. Your annoyed retort died in your throat as he finally pushed into you, making you moan, your head falling back against the cupboard at the feeling of him inside you after so long.

He groaned as your tight heat enveloped him, his fingers digging into your thighs hard enough to bruise as he started to move. His body tensed, using every ounce of his self control not to cum on the spot. Four years of fucking himself in his hand was nothing compared to the way you were squeezing him right now.

One hand moved up to your mouth, muffling your growing moans and whines. "Shh," he cooed. You were thankful for it. You knew you had to be quiet, but the way he was pounding into you made it nearly impossible.

"Did you miss me, baby?" He leaned down, breathing hotly against your neck as he nipped at your throat. "Did you lay awake at night thinking about me stretching you like this?" He flexed his hips, driving deep inside you.

You nodded, letting out a muffled "mhm" against his palm as your back arched into him. He felt so good, better than you'd remembered, and you hadn't had sex in four years, so you were so worked up.

"Good," he purred, his teeth scraping against your skin as he continued to pound into you relentlessly. "Because I missed you too, baby. Missed this tight little cunt wrapped around my dick." The hand on your thigh dipped down between your legs, his calloused thumb rubbing circles on your clit.

You gasped against his palm, your eyes rolling back at the mix of sensations. You were already so pathetically close, feeling that familiar aching deep within you.

He could feel your weepy cunt starting to flutter around him, and he was more than glad that you were so close so quickly because he didn't know how much longer he could hold back. "Gonna cum inside this pretty little pussy, baby. Gonna get you pregnant again, and this time I'm not gonna miss a damn thing"

His words turned you on more than they should have, snapping that coil inside you and sending you over the edge. You tensed around his dick, feeling your orgasm wash over you as you cried out his name.

"Shit, baby," he groaned, burying his face into your neck, his facial hair tickling your skin as he pushed himself deep inside you, painting your insides white with his release. His breath was hot against your already heated skin, a thin layer of sweat coating both your bodies as he slowly softened inside you.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you tried to catch your breath, his hand falling from your mouth to brace himself on the counter. You couldn't believe that after all these years of promising yourself you wouldn't let him back into your life, you had so easily opened your legs and even let him cum inside you—because clearly that worked out so well for you last time.

He stayed buried inside you for a moment, enjoying the warmth and the feeling of finally being home where he belonged. He eventually pulled out, his softening dick slipping from your tender cunt.

You had to tell him that he couldn't stay, that it would confuse Rhiannon to wake up to a strange man in the house, but you didn't know how, not after what just happened.

He stepped back, allowing you to get down from the counter. A silence fell over both of you as you got dressed, neither one knowing what happens now. He finished buttoning up his jeans, his eyes flicking up to you as he ran a hand over his buzzed head. "So... what now?" He asked gruffly, breaking the silence.

"You can't- you have to go," you told him, pulling your shorts back up and crossing your arms. It seemed unfair to say such a thing after sharing such an intimate moment, but you needed to think of your daughter. She didn't even know who Rafe was.

"You're kicking me out?" He echoed, as if he couldn't believe it. "After... that?" He gestured vaguely, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, both of you finding yourselves right back where you started. "You cant just... be here. Rhiannon doesn't even know who you are." The words seemed cruel as soon as they left your lips, but they were true. You wished they weren't, but they were.

"I know. Fuck, I know that. Don't you think I know that?" He was frustrated, your words like a slap to the face. "But goddamn it, I want to know her. I want to be a part of her life."

"I'm not saying you can't be, but... she's four, Rafe. She's old enough that you can't just walk in and call yourself her father," you told him firmly. "It's going to take time. I don't want to overwhelm her."

"Time?" He asked incredulously. Deep down, he knew you were right, that you were doing what was best, but he was so angry at himself, and instead of facing that anger and acknowledging that this was his own doing, he was taking it out on you. "I've already missed four fucking years. First steps, first words, first everythings."

"I can't keep going in circles with you, Rafe," you ran your hand through your hair, utterly exhausted. "You do this my way, or you don't do this at all." It hurt you to be so cold. You wanted Rhiannon to know her father, but she was just a kid. She wouldn't understand why her dad just showed up out of the blue, and you didn't know how to explain it to her.

He stared at you, his face unreadable. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. Then, he spoke, his voice low. "Alright. Fine. Your way. But you better not shut me out again. I'm not gonna miss anymore. Understand?"

You nodded, thankful that he was going to stop fighting you on this. "Do you have a-a number or something?" You asked, unsure how long he'd been out, if he got his phone back and was able to pay the bill or if he bought a burner. You didn't even know where he was staying.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "It's the same as my old one," he said gruffly, clearly annoyed by your previous ultimatum.

"Right, okay," you nodded, your fingers drumming against your upper arm. You two stood in silence for a long moment. Rafe didn't want to leave, and you didn't want to tell him to.

Rafe's gaze fell to the floor, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. "Can I see her before I go?" He asked softly. "Just... just to see her."

There was a shift in his demeanor, a vulnerability about him that told you he really did care about Rhiannon, even if he'd never met her. "Yeah," you found yourself nodding, turning to lead him to her room. As you entered the living room, you could've sworn Moonshine was giving a disapproving side eye. "Don't judge me," you mumbled.

He followed you down the hallway, his heavy boots thudding on the floor. He paused in the doorway of Rhiannon's room, looking in on her sleeping form. She was curled up on her side in a princess toddler bed, her little arms wrapped around a stuffed cat. Rafe's expression softened as he took her in.

His eyes swept over the room, the nightlight plugged into the wall illuminating the space. The walls were painted a light shade of pink, toys strewn about. A small bookshelf sat tucked in the corner, various children's books inside, some sitting on the floor in front of it.

He stepped into the room, moving closer to the bed. He crouched down, his eyes fixed on Rhiannon's sleeping face as he reached out, his large hand gentle as he brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. "She's so little," he murmured softly, almost reverently.

You leaned on the doorway, a small, sad smile pulling at your lips as you watched the exchange. You found yourself wondering what life would have been like if Rafe never got locked up, your heart aching as you thought about sharing all of Rhiannon's firsts with someone, bickering over whether she would've said mommy or daddy first. The wobbly first steps, the soothing and band-aid applications after she scraped her knees. What would it have been like to share those moments with him?

Rafe's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "She's beautiful." He turned his head to look at you, and you saw the sheen of moisture in his eyes. He blinked it away quickly, clearing his throat as he stood, masking his emotions as he always had. "I should go."

You hesitated, for a moment wanting to throw everything you'd said out the window and tell him to stay, but you knew you couldn't. You just nodded, letting him push past you. You didn't move from your spot, even after you heard the front door open and shut. You simply closed your eyes, leaning your head against the doorframe as a few tears rolled down your cheeks.