#most facts are just about their relationships with their prisoners but if i tried to talk more about their backstories and personalities

[linagram]

[ 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜' 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 ]

here they are!! finally!!

okay, so at first i thought that i should add something like "part 1", since this post will include only the guilty trio's side characters, but i thought about it and.. i don't really think i should make profiles for other side characters too? most side characters are just the family members (like asahi's adoptive father or eiko's mother) or they're those prisoners' friends (riku's friends/bandmates, reina's friends, etc) and i don't want to make profiles for all those friend groups.

but we'll see! maybe i'll just drop some family/friends lore when i feel like it.

Side character 001: Saito Arata

Name: Saito Arata (斎藤新) (his last name means "purification, worship" and his first name means "fresh, new")

Age: 17 y/o

Gender: Male

Birth date: March 23rd (Aries)

Height: 176 cm

Blood type: AB

Occupation: High school student (first year)

Personality: Arata is an interesting and unpredictable person. It's hard to tell what's going on inside his head, but he always looks like he's up to no good. He does whatever he wants and whenever he wants and he doesn't care what others say. He's very chill and relaxed most of the time and there's only a few things that can make him angry. He's very talkative and outgoing, but he still has no friends.. Or maybe he has one, if you can call that boy his friend. It's hard to impress someone like Arata, so if you manage to do that, don't be surprised if he suddenly becomes obsessed with you and starts basically worshipping you. But also.. don't be surprised when he just as suddenly decides that he doesn't find you interesting anymore and leaves you. His interests change all the time, he can't control it. And also, even if you are like a god to him, it doesn't mean that he will forget about everything else. He's not as loyal as he likes to make people believe. Also, what's the point of being so obsessed with someone if he actually has more power than anyone else here?

Trivia:

Arata's grades aren't that good and one of the reasons why he started to like Akio is the younger boy agreeing to let him copy his homework.

Arata doesn't look exactly like Riku, but they share some other traits, like age, zodiac sign, blood type, being taller than Akio and having dark hair. Also, Riku not looking like an exact copy of Arata and Akio still liking him because of how much he reminds him of his follower can be explained as Akio missing Arata too much.

Arata is a year older than most of his classmates, but there's not any particular reason for that.

Arata really likes animals that are considered to be weird, dangerous or scary by most people and he was obsessed with insects and dinosaurs when he was a child (he still is). He also has a huge shark plushie in his room, but it's not cute at all and it's actually kinda creepy. When Akio found out about that interest of his, he tried to find as much information as possible, so that he could impress Arata with his knowledge later.

Arata actually didn't care about Akio that much when he first met him, he only had to spend time with him for reasons I can't talk about yet, but as he kept learning more about him and what kind of person he is, he started to admire him and be truly supportive of him.

Arata knew Akio's victim well not only because of them all being classmates, but also because Akio's victim really wanted to be friends with Akio and that annoyed Arata even back when he wasn't interested in Akio (or at least he thought so). When he fully turned into Akio's follower, he did everything to make his victim's life worse: from stealing his medications to "accidentally" pushing him down the stairs. Akio actually didn't need to try and "manipulate" Arata to kill the poor boy for him, Arata would do it anyway sooner or later.

If you remember, the silhouettes' eyes in Akio's MV were green (meaning envy and jealousy) and only one of them had pink eyes (meaning love and genuine support). Yes, those other figures are Akio's classmates and the pink-eyed figure is supposed to be Arata.. but only in this particular MV (symbolism, am I right), because in real life, as you have probably already noticed, Arata has heterochromia and one of his eyes is pink, meanwhile his other eye is green. And yes, I've made his eyes like that on purpose.

Remember how Akio mentioned in his interrogation that he's okay with anything his mother cooks, but something was crossed out? He actually wanted to write "anything Arata cooks", but quickly changed it to his mother, because he found it too embarrassing and he didn't want the guards to ask about Arata. The funniest thing about this is that Arata actually can't cook at all and he just bought random food and then he was like "Yeah, I've made it for you, do you like it? <3". It worked though and Arata had to hold his laugh every single time because Akio genuinely believed him.

Side character 005: Mikazuki Ruka

Name: Mikazuki Ruka (朏 瑠日) (his last name means "crescent moon" and his first name means "lapis lazuli" and "sun")

Age: 21 y/o

Gender: Male

Birth date: May 19th (Taurus)

Height: 164 cm

Blood type: A

Occupation: Unemployed

Personality: Ruka wishes people would just.. ignore him or pretend he's not here. He doesn't like talking to people and finds it exhausting. Even simply being around people is too much for him. No, actually, everything is too much for him. Getting up in the morning or even simply eating or breathing is too much work for him. It would be nice if he had someone who could just.. do all of that for him. He'd be okay with doing anything in return for that.. well, if it's not too exhausting. Ah, and if this doesn't sound too weird yet, Ruka has this interesting habit of saying that he's actually dead if anyone asks him to do something he's too lazy to do or simply asks him a question about his past or how he's feeling right now. He often says something like "'Cause I'm dead" in the end of his sentences. He never explains why he does that and it seems much more serious than just him trying to come up with an excuse not to talk about something or not to do something. Maybe it's because he genuinely feels like he's actually a corpse and that's why he's always so tired?.. Ah, but don't think that he's always so cold and emotionless. He's actually very expressive, but only around one specific person.

Trivia:

Ruka's voice is very androgynous and most of the time people have to ask him about his gender. It doesn't help that he has a unisex name as well. And when someone asks him or thinks he's a girl, he simply shrugs and goes "I'm dead anyway, so it doesn't matter". He often wears skirts and dresses too.

Speaking of that habit of his, at first Kei thought that Ruka suffers from "Cotard's syndrome", a condition in which the person thinks that they're actually dead or don't have any blood or organs, but he has soon found out that Ruka knows perfectly well that he's alive, he just likes to think that he's dead, a walking corpse or even a zombie.

Ruka stopped growing when he was 14 years old and he still looks very young and people often mistake him for a teenager. When Kei first met him in a night club, he actually got worried and wondered how this kid was allowed in here. Ruka kinda likes the fact that he looks so young, since "it proves that he really has died and stopped aging".

Ruka is much more talkative around Kei in general. And just so you understand, he wasn't a "poor innocent guy who Kei has kidnapped and tortured in his basement", he was free to go anywhere he wanted to (without leaving the house, of course) and do anything that he wanted. He even made fun of Kei and made jokes like "Ah, do you like me for my childlike appearance or something? You're even more of a creep than I've thought" (Kei punched him right after that and made him take his words back because even he got uncomfortable after hearing that) and "Just beat me up and take as many photos as you want already, I wanna go to sleep as soon as we're done". He even teased him and said things like "What, is this everything you've got?" while Kei tortured him. Kei absolutely did horrible things to him, but Ruka still had more freedom than it was shown in Kei's MV and even though he's still a victim of kidnapping, he actually kind of enjoyed the process because he thought he was finally about to die for real.

The outfit that he's shown wearing has sun and moon motifs which is a reference to his name meaning. I wanted his name to be related to both sun and moon to show that he's Kei's "sun and moon", that meaning that he's Kei's everything.

According to Ruka, he doesn't have any parents or siblings and he also hates when people ask him about them. He still had a friend group (he didn't care about them at all) and he actually was basically forced to come with them to that night club from Kei's MV. They have still spent a lot of time explaining that he really is an adult This is how Kei and Ruka met and Kei went "Oh.. He's just like me fr.."

It's hard to explain what kind of relationship Kei and Ruka had, since it's hard to call them friends and they weren't really a couple. Their relationship had platonic, romantic and sexual elements, but they still had no idea who they are to each other and they mostly just treated each other like an artist and a muse at first before they started to become closer.

Side character 008: Kanasawa Takame

Name: Kanasawa Takame (金沢喬女) (her last name means "gold" and "swamp, stream" and her first name means "high, noble" and "woman")

Age: 31 y/o

Gender: Female

Birth date: November 16th (Scorpio)

Height: 170 cm

Blood type: O

Occupation: Maid cafe manager

Personality: Takame is a polite and gentle woman who is always very kind to everyone, especially her employees. She has a very good reputation and everyone knows her as a caring and understanding person who never lets her employees overwork themselves and if she sees someone making them uncomfortable, she will make sure to take care of that and protect them. She's quite passionate about anime, manga and games and that's.. uh.. one of the reasons why she decided to open a maid cafe. What about the other reasons? Haha, you don't have to know that. Maybe this woman really does have a dark side, but only one of her workers knows about it. And that worker still loves her no matter what.

Trivia:

Takame secretly has a thing for cute girls in maid outfits and that's a second reason why she opened a maid cafe.

Takame really does have a secret second job and her being a cafe manager is just something she does to hide her secrets and make herself look like a normal person who doesn't do anything illegal.

Unlike other two side characters who actually liked their prisoners, she didn't have any feelings for Yurika and just manipulated her because she knew that Yurika is the only worker who would agree to help with something like Takame's second job and she knew that Yurika really needs someone to rely on, so she promised she will take care of everything that Yurika has problems with. She thought that Yurika is cute, but that's all.

Takame really does like anime, manga and games and that's not something she made up. She believes that no matter how old you are, you should still do what you like, even if other people judge you for it.

She knew everything about Yurika's past and her problems and she knew about Yurika's relationship with her victims. She used that information to make Yurika trust her, but no matter how manipulative she was, she actually did protect Yurika from her stalkers and people who harassed her. Of course, that made Yurika like her even more, but when Takame did that, she genuinely wanted to protect Yurika because she didn't want her to go through anything like that.

[isaacathom]

im really excited for the next session of my dnd campaign because the side session i was in yesterday had. so many things. that i am very excited to share with the party. and which will be discussed next time

non exhaustive list:

naielle is now married! (this may be a surprise to some, as she has not drawn attention to the fact she had a fiancee)

marius did not recieve leave to attend/officiate her wedding

naielle will be late returning from leave because she stayed an extra two days so she could reunite with her twin brother (this may also be a surprise as she has not mentioned him either)

naielle actively aided her privateer fiancee in committing a revolutionary action against their home country (not shared by the fleet naielle works for, luckily)

naielle has a captive with her

that captive is her younger sister (a further surprise)

also the githyanki fleet is out and pursuing the mindflayers who are all congregating in one location

cause the whole thing, right, naielles ENTIRE plan, was to go over, marry her fiancee (as a surprise!), spend some time with her, and then leave. and then she got roped into kidnapping her sister and trying to prevent a plane-altering incident, and then she got convinced to stay extra time to see her brother, and then convinced to take her sister back with her as a prisoner of war to keep her away from the war entirely for the forseeable future. and marius is just there the whole time, having quickly agreed to accompany her on her ill-defined and ill-described leave because naielle asked for a bodyguard while she planeshifted and so like. naielle asked for a week and a half off, right? she's probably taken closer to two. marius did get ANY leave. my mans just vanished for two straight weeks without so much as a word and :) and :) noone in the fleet had any means of contacting either naielle or marius.

so naielle, marius, and mariela are going to teleport back onto the deck of the Xistina or the Pendaghast, and Commodore Vandervest is gonna go fucking ballistic. its going to be hysterical

[minswriting]

Post prison Spencer being a soft dom but wanting to be pegged still and whimpering how good his girl is doing…. Plz 🙏🏾

nsfw | mdni | pegging (m) | not really soft dom spence but def post prison

being in a relationship with spencer, the two of you had learned a lot from one another sexually. there’s just something about sex and emotions, something that chemically helps the brain in some sort. electrical pulses, hormones, release of cortisol, all that beautiful stuff. one of the things that had always helped stop stressing so very much was spencer was getting your silicone cock in his ass.

but ever since he had gone to prison, he hadn’t been wanting it. in fact, he had taken on a more dominant role, something that you two usually shared evenly together. not that you minded too much but you also worried for his mental well-being.

so when spencer had come home extremely wound up and very stressed, you had taken it upon yourself to calm him down, coaxing him into letting you take care of him. and when he agreed easily, you knew he desperately wanted it.

spencer had his head down and ass up while you thrusted into him hard and fast. the whines that left his lips and loud moans when you gave a particularly harsh thrust was absolutely like music to your ears. you had assumed that he would’ve tried his best to stay quiet, shy to cry out in pleasure. but instead, spencer was quite vocal. not that you minded at all.

“o-oh fuck,” spencer moaned into the pillow, eyes fluttering shut. “just like that, baby, oh my god.”

you continued your pace, breathing heavily as you thrusted your hips. you watched as the silicone cock moved in and out of spencer, watching how his body tensed with each movement. you gripped his hips, holding them tightly. “do you like this, spence? like it when i fuck you?” you asked, your hips not faltering.

“love it so much, darling,” he moaned.

“mm,” you replied, moving your hips harder, hitting spencer’s prostate.

the sudden harshness of your thrusts caused spencer to cry out in pleasure. “right there! please don’t stop, baby. oh my god, i’m so close.” he practically whined.

and you didn’t stop. not until spencer was whining, shooting his load onto the mattress and writhing in pleasure. it had been the most intense orgasm you had seen spencer have in a long while. and one that he most certainly needed.

[noirsdoll]

-> pretty please? bonus!

all aboard! | the dinner party | room for three

pairing: curly / wife!reader / jimmy

words: 4.4k

tags: rape, threesome (f/m/m), painal, double penetration, light cucking, curly and reader are married, jimmy went to jail, mentions of jimmy's abuse towards anya, homoerotic codependent friendship, half of this is porn, no crash au

notes: this is more of a bonus chapter than a third one just cuz i think curly and reader's dynamic switches up a lot with the introduction of jimmy... there's a lot going on here LMAO i hope you like it!! i wanted to touch more on the similarities between jimmy and reader w this one!

read it on ao3

Jimmy’s walking, talking, “Get Out Of Jail Free Card” is pissing you off.

“No, we’re not letting him stay here!” You exclaim and for the first time in your relationship, this is real anger. He can’t be serious.

Curly pinches the bridge of his nose with one hand and sighs, the other arm rocking your newborn. “It’s only going to be for a month at most. Just till he gets back on his feet.”

Your jaw drops. “We have a kid, Grant. And Jimmy’s a convicted sex offender.”

“He wouldn’t do something like that, not with a child.” Curly cups your cheek, his gaze blindingly warm. “Jimmy’s learned his lesson.”

You stare at him in bewilderment. You’ve found it, Curly’s hard limit and it’s for Jimmy of all people. The guy who’s best known for sticking his dick in anything remotely concave.

You were hoping you’d have a few months of peace before this happened, not for your husband to go behind your back and pay Jimmy’s bail. Curly can soothe you and fuck you all he wants, you are not forgiving him for this.

You bury your face in your hands. “Alright. Fine. Fine! But if he tries anything I’m kicking him out.”

“We’ll be fine, honey. Don’t be so negative.” Curly hands you your kid. “I think you gotta change him.” He stinks.

Jimmy stinks.

You know for a fact that prisons have showers and soap, so he has no excuse. You may be biased, however, considering he’s going to be sharing this beautiful house with both you and Curly.

It feels like he’s smearing his filth over your clean floors— the first thing you order him to do is take a shower. Thankfully, Curly agrees, kissing your hair and bidding you farewell for the day like he always does. Jimmy makes a face and says nothing, heading for your bathroom.

As the shower runs, you take the time to cook yourself some food. Instinctively, you find yourself glancing over your shoulder more than once. Down the hall, to the bathroom right across from your son’s room. You know he wouldn’t, Curly said he wouldn’t, but that doesn’t stop you from worrying.

You have a life that you need to put before your own now, a life that needs your protection. This was all for your kid at the end of the day. You ignore the anxiety festering in your gut, turning back to your cooking.

Eventually, Jimmy plops down onto a chair at the kitchen table, wearing Curly’s pajamas. His wet hair falls in strings. The silence drags before he speaks. “You look pretty good for just having a kid,” he draws out slyly.

“Thanks.” You don’t look at him, off put by the compliment.

You hear the telltale creak of him leaning back in his chair. “It’s a nice life you got, huh? Curly’s treating you well?”

“Well, he’s my husband. Of course he should.”

Jimmy just scoffs, about to say something more before he’s interrupted by your baby crying. Instantly, you turn off the stove and take down the hall. Finally, an excuse to get away from him and his thinly-veiled jealousy.

Unfortunately, Jimmy trails after you, pretending not to follow you while also clearly doing so. He catches the door when you go to close it, bullying his way in. “Am I such bad company?”

“No.” You think Jimmy is closer to head lice than anything likeable, but he can be personable at times. You pick up your baby, shushing him, gently rocking him. Jimmy’s looming behind you, against the wall by the door.

He grimaces at the sound. “Does it shut up?”

“He’s hungry,” you say, eyes only on your crying baby. Every heart-wrenching wail tugs at something so innate inside you. “Could you leave so that I can feed him?”

Jimmy grins. “And miss out on a show? Why would I do that?”

Your face crumples in disdain. But he’s clearly not leaving and you’ve got a kid to feed, so you just turn away from him, back to your son’s cradle. The air doesn’t feel intense, it feels stifling as you lift up your shirt, bringing your baby’s crying mouth to your nipple.

There’s this weird pressure in your chest, one you’ve never felt before. The short, subtle crawl of ice down your spine. Unsafe, you feel unsafe. Why, you don’t know, but that pressure builds, sharp and nauseating.

The silence drags, you focus on your kid, making sure he properly attaches, that he’s actually drinking. When he’s full, you pull back and tug down your shirt. On impulse, you look behind you.

Jimmy’s gone, like you just imagined him. A ghost.

Dinner comes and goes. You’re changing your son’s diaper as Curly and Jimmy talk in the living room. You can hear their laughter and lively conversation through the walls. Swaddling your kid, you pull him into your arms.

You sing him a lullaby, rocking him to sleep. Alone in this room, you can still feel Jimmy. That moment is etched in your brain. It clings to the walls of the room like cigarette smoke on drywall.

The door opens and you jump. Fortunately, it’s just Curly. He comes up behind you, big warm hands sliding over your stomach and waist. He kisses your temple. “How are you feeling?”

You lean back into him. “Exhausted.” You rub an eye with your free hand.

“Yeah, I bet.” His voice rumbles against your back, lulling you half to sleep. “Jimmy and I are going to head out to the bar for the night. We’ll be back before it's late.”

That wakes you up. You turn to face him. “What? But you just got home and I missed you all day.”

Curly just smiles as if you’d said a joke that was half amusing. “I haven’t seen him in months. We’re only catching up.”

You stare at him, at a loss for words. This would be the part where you flare up, raise your voice— to make yourself seem bigger like you’re encountering a bear on a woodland trail. Instead you shrink, finding yourself at home with something you never have before. You just stand and say nothing.

He kisses you quickly. “Bye. Love you.”

“Love you too,” you say back, but the door has already closed behind him.

Being a woman is easy.

You can ask a guy to beat you up during sex, only to turn and show your bruises to a cop and you’re believed. Easily. Instantly.

Jimmy thinks it’s unfair that you and him did the same thing, and he was robbed of everything while you lost nothing. You have it so fucking easy: Curly’s dick in your mouth whenever you want it, cushy house, hot water. The type of things a woman like you takes for granted.

He sees the way you look at him. Someone who’s filth, someone who’s nothing, and someone who’s beneath you. He’s not beneath anyone, especially not a dumb slut. You’re the one on your knees scrubbing the floor, at the sink washing dishes, and raising a kid of all things. You’re a servant, no, a service to Curly. Jimmy wonders if you know that.

It’s even worse that it's so goddamn boring in this house. Seeing you walking back and forth past the living room with various cleaning items and Curly’s lacklustre TV subscription is his only entertainment.

He decides to take matters into his own hands. Jimmy follows you from behind, wondering if you can’t sense him or if you’re purposefully ignoring him, but he finds out pretty quickly that it’s the latter.

Curling a strong arm around you from behind, he grabs one of your tits, pulling you back into his chest. Are they the reason why Curly likes you so much?

Instantly, you go straighter than a stick, stuck in disbelief before you start to squirm. “What the fuck are you doing?!” You try and put up a good fight, but he’s got a tight grip on you— like a baby’s hand wrapped around your finger.

You elbow him in between the ribs and it almost gets him. Almost. Pain flares in his side, but he knows better than to give up now. “That wasn’t very nice. I was just curious if these were his favourite part.”

His other hand scoops up your chin, pressing the back of your head up against his throat. “Curly said to make myself at home, so surely you don’t mind.” Jimmy can feel your chest heaving, your breath wild. You’re a cornered animal, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“Get off of me,” you say, your voice muffled, but you are too perfectly ensnared in his grip. Your words mean nothing when he’s kneading your flesh in his calloused hands, tugging up the hem of one of those stupid dresses you always wear. Another aspect of Curly’s barely hidden fetish, he’s sure.

Jimmy makes sure it hurts when he pushes in. He hopes you tear. That way you’ll lose what makes you important to Curly— the stepping stone to everything else falling apart for you.

You look over your shoulder at him and your expression is not one of fear or pain, but anger. You look livid, clipped nails digging into the carpet fibers as Jimmy shoves your face onto the floor.

But eventually you get wet as he opens you up, filling you in his favourite form of entertainment. Seeing you give up, seeing you enjoy getting used by his ‘filthy’ cock that you thought was below you.

You coat his dick in blood and cum when he pulls out of you, spilling over your ass in harsh white streaks. A ruined mess, your true colours have been revealed, the crimson muscle under your skin. You are just a woman, dumb and docile, nothing but what a man can make you.

And he leaves you there so he can go take another wonderful hot shower.

Lying beside Curly, you feel yourself break.

In the dim light of your bedroom, you have nothing to occupy your senses but your thoughts. And you have so, so many of them. Each one winds around your brain in a tortuous loop.

After Jimmy left you there, you didn’t know what to do. Your joints cried out, you sat up and just stared at a spot on the floor. The sound of the shower running filled your ears like an incessant buzz, it carried with you all day. And here it is now. This fog, this emptiness that you can’t shake.

You smooth your thumbs over your nails, worrying your lips till you taste blood. Never have you let yourself fall into your head like this, you feel shackled to that moment, forced to replay it over and over.

You shouldn’t be so absorbed in this. It was nothing. He’s just fucking bored. Letting this affect you, ruminating on this, it makes you no better than her.

For a short moment you debated calling Anya, to talk to her about it. You imagine picking up the phone and flat out telling her that Jimmy raped you— and what? What happens then? What could Anya— a dimwit who finally made it into med school through pity alone, do for you?

You wipe your eyes to try to hide the tears brewing there. This is all because of Jimmy. He has the nerve to do this under your household. You have Curly under your beck and call, you’ve assured yourself that that would be the case. This won’t slip through your fingers. You’ll get him kicked out, Jimmy failed to pass the terms.

You feel Curly’s arm wrap around your stomach, tugging you back into his chest. His warm breath fans over the nape of your neck, murmuring listlessly. “Why are you crying?”

Fuck, he noticed. You wipe with more insistence. You need to tell him. Sure you have no proof, but you can twist your words like you always do. Blame it on Curly, braid his heartstrings and play them to your favour. This will be easy.

“Jimmy, he… he…”

Fuck, you can’t speak. Why can’t you speak? This has never happened. Words usually come so easy to you, but right now they’re all crammed down your throat and you’re suffocating on them.

“I know you don’t like him,” Curly says, “but he’s my friend. I can’t just throw him out onto the streets, right?”

You stay silent. Right, of course, they’re friends. And how could Jimmy get off his feet, get a job— do any of that, when he has a criminal record? You should’ve never agreed to this. You should’ve said no. You are competing with a relationship that has stretched on longer than the time you’ve known Curly.

“You both need to learn how to get along,” Curly sighs, burying his face in your shoulder. “Get some sleep. Don’t think about this.”

You nod, more to yourself than him. Jimmy will get bored. This will end.

It will.

Why are you making excuses for him?

When Curly asks about the new bruise flowering on your side, you say you bumped into the counter. You don’t tell him that it was Jimmy. When Curly and Jimmy drink together in the living room after dinner, you spend it in your son’s room, fawning over him and making yourself sick.

There’s no telling when Jimmy will snap and you will become the subject of his entertainment for the hour– when he will split you open and call you filthy things that you are slowly being conditioned to like.

You feel like a hostage in your own house. Your son’s room has become your only safety. No longer do you feel self-assured, confident, and capable, rather, you feel as though you are nothing but a victim. That you are a compliant puppet to the men around you.

It needs to stop.

Today, Jimmy shoves his fingers down your throat and you lurch forward with a gag. His unclipped fingernails drag against your wet tongue and you feel your unimpressive breakfast rising up your throat.

And god, his fucking grin. It’s a show of malice and a couple of crooked teeth, the obvious reaction as he takes a victory lap with your subservience. Globs of thick saliva drag down from your lips and onto the floor.

He always fucks you when your son is sleeping and there’s enough time for your holes to return to normal for when Curly uses them the following evening. You feel so sapped of your energy. You don’t even fight or say much of anything anymore. You’ve lost.

You know what’s happening before you even feel it. He bends you onto the couch and slides his spit-soaked fingers against your ass. You prickle up, going rigid as he forces one finger past your pucker, then a second. Jimmy doesn’t actually care about prepping you and after a couple pumps he replaces his fingers with his cock.

It’s the same sharp drag every time, although now it hurts twice as much. He must get off to it, seeing you in a crumpled, folded heap of holes. His hips smack against yours with ease.

He curls his body over you, looming like a shadow. The cushion beneath your face is wet with tears and drool. You feel like you’re suffocating— he doesn’t even moan. You’re not even doing a good job of whatever he wants from you.

Jimmy calls you a slut, a whore, and all of the other degrading names in the book. He’s sure to let you know what you are and once the slide of his dick starts feeling less like molten lava in your veins, you begin to moan along with it. You fucking hate yourself.

Then, the front door opens.

You didn’t tell Jimmy that Curly got off early today. You were hoping the sight of this would be enough to deter Curly from Jimmy, that’d it be enough to compel Curly to kick him out. If he won’t believe your words, you have the visual proof.

Jimmy doesn’t even look scared, much less worried. He tugs you up into his lap, your back against his chest and your vulnerable body bared to Curly’s gaze. You try to cover yourself, but it’s no use.

“Sweetheart… what?” He looks between you and Jimmy, his expression darkening.

“I didn’t— he made me–,” but Jimmy wraps a hand around your throat and squeezes so hard your eyes bulge out of your sockets. You flounder as Jimmy grinds his hips into you.

“She’s a glutton for it.” Jimmy’s voice feels far away, like you’re in some sort of corporeal third person. “You haven’t been fucking her right, huh?”

Curly’s lips form around a myriad of words he tries and fails to say. “I have been,” Curly says, his eyes wide in disbelief, reeling, “she went behind my back, with you?”

“Don’t blame me. She was begging me for it.” Jimmy can’t stop moving his hips. He can’t even take a break from fucking you just to talk.

“Please, no—,” you gasp. Curly’s eyes flit to yours and then down to your blushing cunt that's currently dripping slick down onto Jimmy’s balls. He can see the way your ass is stretched around his cock.

Curly’s so red you think he might overheat. One hand slips lower, not-so-discreetly adjusting his bulge as he stares at both you and Jimmy in heartbreak.

And Jimmy, being the gentleman he is, scoots forward on the couch, indirectly rocking up into you in a thrust that makes your eyes roll back. “Are you getting turned on by this?” Jimmy laughs, “then use her.”

Jimmy slides his sleazy fingers down and parts your sodden lips, showing it all off to Curly. The man averts his eyes like he’s never seen it before, as if he hasn’t dragged his tongue over every inch of your skin in his own form of worship.

“You like watching this? Fucking cuck.” Jimmy digs his thumb into your windpipe and you worry you might actually turn purple.

He curls in on himself like he’s intruding. “I can’t— not while you’re—”

Jimmy rolls his eyes. “She’s your wife. What, you don’t want her anymore?”

The patheticness that drew you to Curly is becoming a thing of annoyance to you. But for once, you agree with Jimmy— having Curly here with you might erase the pain of Jimmy’s lack of preparation. Curly would be gentle, he would be so good to you, same as he always is. You plead with him as best you can with your eyes. If you can’t rid yourself of Jimmy, at least you can make it better for yourself.

You watch as he reluctantly undoes his pants, tugging out that fat cock you love so much. Before you know it, he’s pressing the head to your cunt and pushing in. His eyes are on you and only you. You’re finally able to ignore the way Jimmy’s hip bones are digging into your ass.

Curly caresses your jaw with his fingers, watching carefully to make sure he doesn’t hurt you, because sometimes he doesn’t know his own strength. It feels habitual, you can almost ignore everything else happening around you. You and him, just you and him.

“What are you fucking her so slow for?’ Jimmy plunges even deeper into you. “You think a slut like her deserves that?”

Curly’s eyes shoot away and then he’s staring at Jimmy, his brow furrowed in thought. It’s usually your job to tell him what to think— you would if you weren’t being stuffed and suffocated from every side.

He picks up speed. You’ve never had him at this pace before, and you’re stretched so full that your hands fly out for purchase, nails skating along Curly’s bicep.

He’s not even looking at you, the pretty tendons of his neck arched so he can look at Jimmy. Your husband fucks you with his careful instruction.

Jimmy bullies himself deeper and deeper. Curly follows suit, your hips all clash with the sloppy sound of your wet cunt and skin.

You squeeze around them both as your heart stammers with pure panic. Jimmy’s fingers are digging into your throat hard enough that spots are appearing in your vision. You tap his arm like he’s got you in a wrestling hold you can’t get out of— Jimmy makes an annoyed sound in the back of his throat as he lets go.

Then he slaps you.

Curly winces like Jimmy hit him too, but he doesn’t say anything. The strike burns against your skin. You’re not even given a moment to process before Jimmy’s pistoning right back in.

You’re so wet that it’s all you can hear— maybe wetter now. Your head tips back to rest on Jimmy’s shoulder and you try to catch Curly’s eyes with your own.

“Grant, Grant—,” your nails dig into his biceps to get his attention. His hands are wrapped around your thighs, spreading you open, and Jimmy’s rubbing your clit like he couldn’t care less about it, missing it half the time.

Curly glances down at you, fleeting. “Yeah, what is it, baby?” His pupils are blown wide, eyebrows curling upwards as he continues to fuck into you.

Your body shakes with each thrust, neither of them are letting up. “Slow down, please.”

“You’re gonna listen to her?” is Jimmy’s immediate response, “thought you were the man of the house.”

A multitude of expressions lilt over Curly’s face until there is a sudden understanding. One of their many secret conversations, you suppose.

Then Curly matches Jimmy’s pace and you feel like you can’t breathe, blackened tears streaming down your face. At least he has the decency to actually rub your clit. Your hips squirm as you try and fail to wrench yourself away from the overstimulation.

He keeps hitting that spot in you over and over again, their cocks meeting inside you with each belligerent thrust. Jimmy’s fingers dig into your waist, his teeth caught on your earlobe as he says the most demeaning things he can come up with, making you whine and squeeze tighter around them both, walls fluttering and a pitiful ache in your stomach.

Then there’s this sudden anger. At yourself, mostly. Curly doesn’t have the backbone to stand up for himself, much less you. That’s why this is your fault. You let it get out of control and you’ve let yourself get conditioned to enjoy being defiled.

You’d only had one plan when you learned about Pony Express terminating its employees— secure your future. That future was Curly’s baby in your belly, being well off under his roof. You were willing to take on every responsibility that came with it if it meant a good life for you and your family. But now you’ve clawed yourself out of a gaping pit just to dive headfirst into another.

Jimmy was the variable that ripped that all to shreds. Him and Curly have something, something that goes beneath their skin, that they share in small glances when you slip up, a camaraderie, one that has spanned longer than you’ve known either of them and has only grown further now.

And then the worst happens.

Jimmy wraps one slender hand around the back of Curly’s neck, tugs him down, and then he’s kissing him. Curly’s eyes fall closed and he makes a keening noise so deep in the back of his throat that you wonder if it’s innate. Jimmy just looks at you, eyes wide open, unable to fight his grin as Curly slots lips with him like an obedient dog.

Your chest sinks even deeper into that pitfall, you can only watch, staring as Curly pulls away, a string of saliva between both their lips. And Curly has never looked at you like that. Yes, his eyes have welled up with admiration and reverence, and he has said just as much to you, but it’s never been this. Like he’ll die if your lips never meet again.

Curly glances at you, and it’s like he’s asking for permission, like you’re some sort of spectator when they’re both fucking you. You can’t believe him, you can’t believe this is happening right now. It’s not fair.

And before you can protest, before the rage can spark in your chest and burst into flames, Curly’s thumb catches your clit just right and you’re cumming.

You’re dragging them both in deep, half-crying out as your orgasm grows spots in your vision. It’s dizzying, all-consuming, and you’re half worried you might pass out.

Curly sucks in a sharp breath and he blows his load right after, Jimmy following too. No one pulls out, you all lay there, catching your breath. There’s a thin layer of sweat on your skin, your bodies all feel sticky as they’re pressed together.

Curly does what he always does, ducking his head to rest his forehead against yours and murmuring praises. He pecks your lips, but all you can feel and taste is Jimmy.

It makes you sick.

The following few weeks are a blur. You become what you’re meant to be, what you’ve been fighting— a shell of your former self. Looking back at the power you once held on the Tulpar, where you were free of the systems of Earth, you should’ve known that their return would throw everything off-kilter.

The white walls of the bathroom grow suffocating. The first time you did this on the Tulpar, there was buzzing excitement thrumming through your veins. You wanted it so badly. It was all you could think about. Every time you and Curly locked eyes, you had envisioned it all, what his reaction would be, the first thing he’d say.

But now? You stare blankly at the positive pregnancy test, an obvious result of yours and Jimmy’s and Curly’s ongoing entanglement. You’re numb more than anything. It was going to happen and so it happened, simple as that.

Though a tiny question tugs at you, somewhere in the recesses of your foggy mind— a curiosity that you don’t want the answer to knowing either option is now equally just as horrible to you.

Who’s the father?

[velvet4510]

Why Magneto’s Storyline in X-Men: Apocalypse is The Worst (it’s not just Cherik)

Ok I just need to vent because this has been chewing away at my brain for far too long.

Cherik is far from the only reason why Erik’s family plotline in X-Men: Apocalypse is some of the stupidest, sloppiest, and most character-ruining pieces of writing I’ve ever seen. Haters may say “oh you’re just upset because he married someone who wasn’t Charles.” But, like, aside from the fact that the original timeline already established that Erik’s top priority was always the fight for mutantkind and he had no interest in settling down - whether that had anything to do with his feelings for Charles or not - the problems with the Apocalypse writing go WAY beyond just him & Charles:

Erik would never abandon his cause at this point. By the end of DOFP, Erik has just been imprisoned for a full 10 years thanks to the JFK situation. Meaning he has spent a full decade being forcibly inactive in the fight for mutants. And he just learned that all of his fears about humans and mutants came to pass in the future to the level where a time-traveler had to be sent to change the past. And he was so set on averting that future that he tried to kill his friend and the sister of the man he loved, and then made a whole speech on international TV begging for the mutants of the world to fight alongside him. This is the POLAR OPPOSITE of a man who would feel like settling down and walking away from the fight within the next decade. The Sentinels being cancelled did NOT make mutant life easy overnight; Stryker was still up to no good, and there is no way that there weren’t others like him doing the same. Yes, Raven’s actions made a very positive difference, but I think we have enough brain cells to agree that this did not mean things for mutants immediately became sunshine and rainbows to the level where Erik - the most (understandably) paranoid character in the X-Men series - would even consider taking a break, let alone giving up the fight permanently. Knowing what he did about the possibilities of the future would’ve made the Erik we know double down on his commitment to his cause and follow up on his actions in Washington.

Erik wouldn’t risk starting a young family at this moment in his life. Erik was a Holocaust prisoner, his people were massacred, his mom was shot when he couldn’t move the coin, and then Charles was shot when Erik accidentally deflected a bullet into him, and then every member of his Brotherhood save Raven were captured and killed. Not only is this more than enough grief for one character to have, but the man wouldn’t dare risk having a new family of his own when everyone he’s ever loved has gotten hurt (largely because of him), and when he’s an international fugitive. That is no time to risk being selfish, and he would know. He would’ve been the first to realize that a potential spouse and child would also end up killed, and so he’d avoid that altogether. In fact, he wouldn’t even consider it, because, as mentioned, he wouldn’t leave his cause behind. You know, if he was actually in character.

Magda is a human. At this point, Erik hates humans. Again, he has just been imprisoned by humans for 10 years for trying to save a mutant, and he just learned that in the future, humans would’ve wiped out mutants, exactly as he feared. Everything that happened in DOFP would only further inflame his already-passionate hatred of humans. He is not in the mental state to even begin to consider Charles’ philosophy and give a human a chance at a relationship, let alone marry a human.

The family lives in Poland. The country where Auschwitz is. The country where Erik and his family and people was imprisoned, tortured, and executed. The country where Erik had to watch Shaw kill his mother. Basically the LAST country in the freaking WORLD that Erik would want to ever see again, let alone spend the rest of his life in. Erik is fluent in multiple languages - he is shown to easily converse in French and Spanish in First Class - and has been all over the world thanks to his Nazi hunting, so if he really needed to flee the U.S., there were a hundred other countries he could’ve gone to and blended into (Canada, France, Mexico, anywhere in South America, heck, he even could’ve discovered Genosha during this time). But in the original timeline, he didn’t leave the U.S. at all despite being a national fugitive after escaping his plastic prison, and he never did get caught again, so….

Erik’s first meeting with Magda is completely OOC for him. Erik mentions that he told Magda who he was the first night they met and he trusted her then. EXCUSE ME??? Erik Lehnsherr does not trust strangers. Erik Lehnsherr does not tell the complete truth about himself and his past to just anyone; look at how deeply Charles had to probe before Erik opened up to him. This stupid line was obviously shoehorned in just to make their relationship seem like perfect soulmates and thus ensure it is doubly tragic when she gets thrown in the fridge 5 minutes later (more on that in a sec). Obviously the intention is for the audience to go “aww, he instantly trusted her, she instantly accepted him, this is true love…” Give me a break. You’re really telling me that Magda met this stranger one night, found out he was none other than the international fugitive who apparently killed the U.S. president and just tried to kill another president on live TV, and went “oh, no problem, honey, let’s make a baby and live the cottagecore dream!” That’s some BS if I’ve ever heard it, and I’m convinced the writers subconsciously knew it; there’s a reason that is revealed in a throwaway line rather than shown onscreen, because then nobody would’ve bought it.

Fridging. Magda and Nina exist in the movie for one reason and one reason only: To get brutally killed and give Erik even more grief and trauma so that he’ll seek revenge on the entire world, aka do what the plot demands of him, aka have the same journey as he did in First Class (more on that in a sec). That’s all. Neither of them are any more than one-dimensional plot devices. They are not characters at all. Magda isn’t even named in the actual movie (he doesn’t even say her name when she dies) - it’s so obvious they didn’t even know what her name would be when they made the movie. This is textbook fridging, and one of the worst examples of it of all time. It’s all the worse considering that Erik never met Magda in the original pre-DOFP timeline, meaning Magda originally most likely lived a long happy life and died old in bed. But now, she gets fridged just because the writers didn’t know what more to do with Erik. It’s misogyny of the highest level.

A parenthood story for Erik was already set up. DOFP already hinted at Erik being a father, with Peter’s comment about his mom. So if the writers wanted to show Erik as a father, and to include Magda, they already had a solution that would seamlessly flow from the previous film - make Erik and Peter’s relationship one of the centerpieces of the story, and let Magda be Peter’s mom! (You know, like she is in the comics!)

It doesn’t contribute anything new to Erik’s character development. From a screenwriting POV, this is unforgivable. May I remind you that Erik’s entire storyline in First Class revolved around grief and trauma for the loss of his family and people, especially his mom, and seeking revenge for it. Giving him a wife and daughter just so they can get killed too adds absolutely NOTHING to his character development. It’s merely retreading everything that already happened in his arc: he loses his family and goes on a roaring rampage of revenge. Completely superfluous, right down to Charles insisting that there’s good in him beyond the pain. The redundancy becomes apparent even in the dialogue, where Charles literally says “I told you since I first met you there’s good in you too.” The script itself can’t help but point out that all of this has happened before and literally nothing new has been added to Erik’s character arc.

See? It’s not just because of Cherik. Erik’s story in X-Men: Apocalypse is an atrocity in basic screenwriting and character development, on every level. And I will always despise it.

(Please tell me I’m not the only one who feels this way…)

[bwat5-blog]

Vi's Grief: An Honest Accounting

**Spoiler Warning for all of Arcane**

The reason I am giving my two cents on this when so many others have done such an excellent job already (check out the one I re-blogged, title is "all because of one woman" i believe), is because of a slew of conversation I have seen recently, making it out like Vi was just having a sad puppy phase waiting on Caitlyn, and that the moment Caitlyn snapped her fingers Vi came padding back for treats and pets.

In fact, what we are witnessing here is to me one of the saddest points of the story. In which a woman so characterized by her tenacity, her hope, her love and her spirit, just has nothing left. So to that end, I am going to be discussing the collective grief that brought Vi so low, and hope to relay the emotional weight and depth this moment should be given. (Even if the pacing of season 2 DID NOT).

Disclaimer: Anyone following me knows Vi is my favorite character and that I have written about her quite a bit. To that end, there be some things in this I just briefly touch on, that I probably got more detailed with in other posts. As always, thank you to anyone who takes the time to read and/or respond. Discourse and appreciation of stories and characters with heart and depth are how keep them alive. Below are a quick list of points I have explored in other posts regarding Vi's character that are relevant to this discussion but not needing full on analyses here.

Vi DID NOT make Jinx

Vi WAS NOT a bad sister

Vi IS NOT the Jinx

Powder:

The genesis of the grief and guilt Vi will struggle with for the rest of the story. In a moment of unimaginable pain, an at most 16 year old Vi lashes out at Powder who has seemingly caused the deaths of their family. She hits her, grabs her roughly around the face and calls her a Jinx before stalking away into the alleyway to cry. She almost instantly stops, looking at her sisters blood on her hands with horror, and stands to go back before Marcus materializes out of the shadows, stealing her away and throwing her in Stillwater for seven years.

I have discussed this tragedy in several posts and with heavy detail, so I will give you the overview here:

Every scrap of evidence before Vi lashes out suggests a loving, supportive, and protective relationship between she and her sister

While older than Powder, as I said per the writers Vi is 14-16 old during this time (I guess they never decided) which is extremely young

Vi tried not to involve Powder in this at all because she wasn't ready, and rightfully so. We have seen Vander's lessons regarding responsibility to those who look up to you settling in Vi's mind over the first three episodes. She knows there is a good chance they may not come back from rescuing Vander, and tries to keep Powder safe.

When Vi lashes out she has seen her entire family die violently, has narrowly survived a fight for her life against multiple adult thugs, and is wounded and afraid

There is no situation where a rational adult would blame Vi for what happened. But, grief isn't rational. One of the last lessons Vander imparted before his passing becomes a part of her so strong it will impact her forever in ways good and bad alike. "when people look up to you, you don't get to be selfish".

Vi loses everything, and everyone. Thrown in frightening, dark, violent prison without cause for seven years. Her whole world shrinks to the darkness in that cell and all she can think about, all she can focus on and hope for, is to someday make it right to the sister who looked up to her.

Jinx:

Seven years locked away from the world and when Vi gets her chance, she takes it. Lets quickly run down their reunion:

Vi immediately embraces Jinx and apologizes for everything that happened.

Jinx asks if Vi is real, clearly concerning but Vi doesn't bat an eye and just comforts her sister

When Jinx tearfully admits she has changed (the tone clearly indicating in a bad way as Vi understands) Vi does not judge or question, affirming that Jinx did what she had to in order to survive

After seeing Caitlyn and the paranoia and fear planted by Sevika and Silco in Jinx takes ahold of her, Vi continues to try and embrace her sister even pushing Jinx's machine gun out from under her chin

Fights back to back with Jinx against the firelights. We only see first real sign of fear/concern over Jinx's behavior when she realize how manic/gleeful Jinx is in combat, but Vi is taken by the firelights before it can be addressed

Vi immediately tries to take responsibility, accepts her, comforts her, and tries to protect her. They are separated and taken to the firelights hideout where she is reunited with Ekko. Ekko tells her unequivocally that Powder is gone. There is only Jinx, and that she works for Silco because she wants to. Now of course that is not entirely correct either. Jinx is an extremely complex character dealing with a multitude of factors to her decisions. What it really comes down to is this, when Ekko assures Vi she cannot change Jinx, Vi replies "I know my sister, I can reach her.. I have to try"

The Bridge:

After everything she has seen, and everything she has been through and been told Vi turns around from Caitlyn and Ekko, her every intention of going back into the Undercity for her sister alone. She only turns around after the combined betrayal by Marcus, and detonation of the firelights by Jinx almost kill Ekko and Caitlyn. Vi then is witness to her little sister breaking down and almost murdering them both, surrounded by the bodies from Jinx's bombs.

The Dinner Party:

Vi spent seven years in that terrible place, all with the dream of finding Powder and making things right between them. We have seen Vi stabbed, beaten, hunted and shot at all in pursuit of this dream. Jinx herself has at this point almost killed Vi herself. And even still, "when people look up to you, you don't get to be selfish".. All Vi can see is that she failed her little sister. From the sad and tender moment with Caitlyn in Cait's bedroom, to the fact that Vi goes after Sevika and Silco alone to put an end to it, she is carrying so much grief and sorrow over what's occurred. And its all made manifest at Jinx's dinner party.

This is a very intense scene and we could come at it from a lot of angles. To my view these are what matter:

Jinx has abducted Vi, Caitlyn and Silco

Jinx is finally acknowledging all of Silco's crimes against their family, but wants Vi to kill Caitlyn in exchange for "getting powder back"

Vi will not sacrifice Caitlyn but tries to keep Jinx and Caitlyn from hurting each other. Leading to Caitlyn having a shot at Jinx and not taking it before being knocked out

Vi and Silco "battle" over Jinx's soul leading to her breaking down but ultimately saving Vi's life over Silco. She then attacks the Piltover council, killing Caitlyn's mother

Interlude:

What follows is the aftermath of Jinx's attack and the eventual attack by Chem Barron on the memorial. The sister Vi fought so hard to get home to, has killed Caitlyn's mother. And worse yet, Vi convinced Caitlyn to stay her hand before it happened. Vi has tried so hard to protect the people she loves, tried to keep them safe. And while learning she cannot save everyone, and that the weight of the world is not hers alone are two of Vi's most character defining lessons. She isn't there yet.

The Ventilation Chamber:

"My sister is gone.. there's only Jinx now".

People have said Vi gave up on her sister too quickly, that she never really loved her, and that nothing justified donning the uniform and coming after Jinx in this way. As we have just been over it I won't list it all in-depth, but in short, Vi has been violently forced to recognize that Powder has become a violent, unstable, unpredictable murderer. And Vi still blames herself for this transformation that left only Jinx behind. So she does what she always tried to do, even if its the worst possible thing someone could ask of her. She puts on the uniform that has symbolized her parents death, her peoples oppression, and seven years of terror and abuse. So she can take responsibility and end the threat to the entire land that her sister has become. And it ends with her little sister ready to die.. happy believing it will be Vi's hands that end her.

Caitlyn:

Vi and Caitlyn are one of the driving forces of the story. Their love story has mattered so much to many people for many reasons, myself included. For this discussion, we are focusing on the moments that demonstrate their meaning to each other, and what is lost when it all goes wrong. Eventually I am doing a deep-dive on their story and going point by point, but this will focus more on the big picture.

Meeting:

After seven years of isolation and pain at the hands of enforcers. Vi is greeted by Caitlyn wanting information. They play their roles, Vi the cocky inmate, Caitlyn the uptight officer, until Vi reveals she has been beaten up. Caitlyn's response is a stoic thing. She does not march to the desk demanding justice. She does not get all teary eyed and beg Vi's forgiveness for her organizations corruption. She crosses the red line. She decides not to walk away. Later in their discussion, Vi accuses all enforcers of being "Asshole criminals in fancy uniforms". Caitlyn does not bluster. She does not fight. She does not curse Vi as some undercity thug and leave. She just listens. It's the sort of thing you would normally consider insignificant. But we see it from Caitlyn again later when she is talking with Ekko. Even if she doesn't believe it yet, Caitlyn listens. And Vi hasn't had that in a very long time. All concluding in Caitlyn Kiramman, scion of one of the great houses, freeing Vi from prison. The vulnerability in Vi's face when the door opens, and the shock on Caitlyn's face in response is beautiful.

Caitlyn Saves Vi:

Caitlyn's rescue of Vi from Sevika is when Vi's walls start to slowly come down. It's not an instant process. Even after being stabbed Vi is still making jokes, trying to do it all herself. But as the events play out we see the true beginnings of their connection. Caitlyn barely knows Vi. But she immediately engages Sevika to save her, and even trades her prized weapon to save Vi's life. The incredibly soft and tender physical contact between is so telling. And Vi for all of her tough, harsh exterior has been denied anything like this her entire life. Caitlyn has freed Vi, saved her life, and is likely the first real affection Vi has had in her life since before Vander was killed.

Vi Chooses Caitlyn:

We discussed this incident earlier pertaining to Vi/Jinx. So all we need to say here is that for the first time since being freed, we see Vi prioritize something.. or someone.. over getting back to her sister. The concern and relief in her face clear to find Caitlyn alive.

Caitlyn's Abduction/The Dinner Party:

We discussed this event in detail earlier. But some things we have to remember when discussing Vi's relationship with Caitlyn are as follows:

Caitlyn was abducted from her own home

Jinx offers Vi "Powder" back if she will kill Caitlyn

Caitlyn repeatedly tries to tell Vi Jinx is too far gone, but doesn't take the shot at Vi's urging

Caitlyn is violently knocked out by Jinx

Caitlyn has to watch as Jinx murders her mother

This woman that Vi has clearly come to care for, perhaps even love by now (hard to say it a shorter tv show), has now been terrorized and almost killed by Jinx repeatedly. And now so has her mother.

The Strike Team:

In the aftermath of Jinx's attack, all is thrown into chaos and confusion. Retaliation by Piltover upon the undercity is not a question. Its happening. Caitlyn is trying to manage her grief, while Vi is trying to be there for her and manage her grief/guilt over Jinx's part in it all. Caitlyn offers her the badge in order for them to be together to try and bring Jinx to justice, but Vi refuses. The enforcers are the symbol of too much pain from Vi's past. It takes the attack on the memorial for Vi to relent, knowing the only way she keep Caitlyn safe and have any control over what happens with her sister, is to join the strike team and wage war in the streets of her birth.

I have discussed the strike team and the morality of their actions in other documents so here I just want to talk about what this means between Caitlyn and Vi. Vi knows Caitlyn was going. And this was the only way to stay by the woman she loves. But i think at least on some level, even though they are hunting chem barons, and even though the use of the grey is not NEARLY what the fandom has made out of it, Vi is wearing an enforcer uniform, in Zaun's streets, doing violence. I don't know how that couldn't weigh on her. Even if logically she knows she is doing the right thing, it has to feel like a betrayal of where she came from. Caitlyn knows this as well but with each passing day is relenting more and more to her rage before Vi's eyes

The Kiss:

"Everyone in my life changed promise me you won't change"

We all knew it was far too late for Caitlyn to keep that promise. And as I have said in another post, it wasn't really a fair thing for Vi to ask. But does that make Caitlyn a liar and Vi selfish? No.. Caitlyn sees the woman she loves laying bare her fear and her vulnerability, in a way she knows Vi only trusts her enough to show. A way she knows Vi is only showing because Vi loves her.

And for her part, to ask someone who has lost a loved one not to change is impossible. That loss leaves a whole, and you can't be who you were before that hole was carved from you. But Vi has watched the woman she loves sliding further and further down this dark road unable to do anything but try and be there for and keep her safe. Vi's entire world was violently ripped away before she was imprisoned. And now the events of the last few weeks have taken her sister as well. Caitlyn is all that she has and she is afraid.

Heartbreak:

The fight in the chamber comes. It is fearsome, and terrifying, and heart breaking. But when it quiets, Caitlyn has Jinx in her sights. The woman who murdered her mother, who abducted her, who has caused Vi so much pain she is RIGHT. THERE. And Vi stops her.

There has been much debate on what happened. Perhaps in that moment, Caitlyn didn't care if she hit isha. Or, she truly believed she would not and was willing to risk it. Neither are the Caitlyn we know. So Vi stops her. Trying to get her to see the child in danger through Caitlyn's rage and pain.

This whole sequence turned my stomach. It feels like a violation as its supposed to. Once separated after the explosions, Caitlyn and Vi argue, and Caitlyn breaks her promise. She tells Vi she is no different than Jinx. Jinx who killed her mother. Who terrorized her. Who killed those enforcers and became Silco's daughter. And when Vi tries to stop her leaving. Caitlyn hits her in the stomach with her rifle. Leaving her all alone and in pain, crying on the ground.

Conclusion:

Well once again this ran longer than I meant it to. I for sure repeated some things some of you have seen from me already, and I'm sure there was a more concise way to do this. But much like Vi's breakdown over Vander's body at the end, or Caitlyn's becoming the commander, this is an extremely dark, bleak moment that the breakneck pace of season 2 flashes by. And a lot of people really seem to underestimate what she is going through. Up to this point, Vi had defined herself by her loyalty and strength. Her willingness to stand for those she loves no matter the cost to herself. She only knows how to live for those she loves, and believes that is all she is worth. Now, in a very short period of time, the hope of reuniting with her sister has been violently, savagely destroyed. The Last Drop is forever changed. Vander, Milo and Claggor are dead. And the woman she loves, the woman she began to believe loved her (we know Caitlyn does but her darkness is for another post), has left her as broken and alone its like she never rescued her from that prison at all.

[daisiesinvienna]

daryl being the most protective w fem!reader. maybe reader doubting daryl’s feelings for her & him saying “why wouldn’t i save you?”. reader shaking and daryl putting his hand on the side of her face brushing her cheek with his thumb 🥺

Nexilis

Title: Nexilis

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: You are a wildflower blooming in the midst of death and destruction, a breath of fresh air. Daryl doesn’t know how to tell you he loves you.

Warnings: Swearing

Era: Prison

Authors Note: Nexilis is the latin word for woven together or intertwined. This was meant to be a shorter blurb but dude I could not stop writing. Thank you for the request! <3

Daryl Dixon never liked having his emotions on display for everyone to see.

During his childhood, he learned that expressing emotions led to vulnerability, and vulnerability led to weakness. So, when he was young, he learned how to bottle up his emotions, learned to keep them suppressed so nobody around him knew what he was feeling. As he grew older, It became his second nature. 

When Daryl first met you back in Atlanta, he knew instantly that it would be a struggle to keep up his cold demeanor. He knew he would have to try to keep up the walls he worked so hard to build. Because you were like a breath of fresh air. 

You were the air that filled his lungs, the oxygen he needed to survive. And that terrified him.

The only problem he had with you was that everywhere you went, emotions followed. Not bad emotions, but emotions like joy and hopefulness. Feelings Daryl wasn’t used to. So he tried to keep his distance.

But you, being the beam of sunlight you were, noticed his seemingly sullen personality and made a point of talking to him regularly. He made an attempt at resisting your charm, but it didn’t take long for his carefully built walls to come crashing down. He soon came to realize that a single beam of sunlight could cast away the darkest of shadows.

During your time spent together before and at the prison, you and Daryl grew closer. He often sought you out to ask if you wanted to go on a run with him, and you took pride in knowing you were the only person he’d outright ask to join him. You often asked him questions about himself and whatever other things crossed your mind, seeming genuinely interested in the things he had to say. Daryl wasn’t used to being listened too, to being considered. People would make jokes, feign surprise when one of you was spotted without the other. It was known, the deep bond the two of you had, but it wasn’t pointed out. It was just a fact.

At some point in your relationship, you crossed the imaginary line drawn between friends and something more. Somehow, despite all the horrors that happened everyday in the world, something beautiful emerged. Daryl had no choice but to let you into his heart. 

He’d tried to resist it, but eventually had to just face it. He loved you.

And that scared the shit out of him.

While you showed your love through words and touch, Daryl showed his by keeping you safe. It was the only way he knew how. In a world as unpredictable as this one, he knew that you could be ripped from him in an instant. But he would be damned if he let that happen.

He kept one eye on you all the time, making sure you were eating and staying hydrated. If there was ever an uncertain situation, he was at your side, resting a calloused yet gentle hand on your waist as if you were going to slip away from him. During encounters with other people, people you didn’t know, he was gently moving you behind him. Silently letting you know that he’d guard every hair on your head, that he would do anything to keep you safe.

You always felt safe around Daryl. You always knew that whatever the situation, he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. And for that you were eternally grateful.

But eventually you begun to notice how he was never the first to lean in for a kiss, never was the first to initiate contact. You were always the first. You’d told him you loved him multiple times, normally as a goodbye when he leaves for a run or when you go to help Rick with the garden. But you’d never once heard it back. Which you didn’t have a problem with at first. You knew he’d had a difficult childhood, though he didn’t like to talk about it. 

But as the months passed, you started to question his feelings for you. You started to wonder if he felt for you the way you felt for him, if he didn’t show you affection or tell you he loved you just because he didn’t want to.

One cloudy and slightly damp fall morning, while you were out tending to the garden out in the former prison yard, you spotted Daryl heading towards the gate with his crossbow slung over his back, clearly about to head out on a run. Dusting your hands off on your jeans, you make your way across the prison yard to meet him by the gate.

“Morning!” You say, flashing him a smile. You see he hadn’t retrieved his motorcycle from where it sat near the prison tower, so he was planning on heading out by foot. Probably going hunting.

“Mornin’,” He answers stoically. He doesn’t exactly return your smile, but the corners of his mouth turn up a bit.

“You going on a run?” 

“Yeah,” He murmurs in response, going to fiddle with the chain keeping the gate secure.

“Mind if I join?” You ask tentatively, and he looks at you for a moment before responding.

“Alrigh’,” He says gruffly, and you grin. He successfully opens the gate, tossing the chain aside. “You got your gun?” 

You in fact did have your pistol on your hip, and with that, you followed Daryl through the gate and away from the prison. He was just planning on hunting around the nearby woods, hoping a few squirrels or even a deer would cross his path. He knew that everyone at the prison would be grateful for something other than canned vegetables.

Neither of you talked much as you walked through the woods, the only sounds being the leaves crunching under your feet and occasional bird calls. Other than that, a good portion of your walk was spent in dead silence.

Daryl walked a bit ahead of you, glancing back periodically as if he was making sure you were still there. He moved effortlessly and silently through the woods, while you tried your best not to step on every twig you came across and stumbled once or twice.

As you trudge through the woods, you feel your thoughts drifting back to your doubts about your relationship with the broad man walking ahead of you. You didn’t miss how he’d avoided your gaze back at the prison gate, and it had only encouraged your feelings of uncertainty.  Now, as you step over a fallen tree, you wonder why he rarely shows you any affection.

Maybe it was something you’d done. Maybe you’d said something, done something at some point that had made him grow so distant. But as you rack your brain for an instance such as this, you come up with nothing. Or, maybe, he just didn’t care for you as much as you thought. Maybe he kept you around because he felt bad for you. 

You stare at the back of his head, knowing that you should talk to him about it. If you had done something to him, you’d want to know. If he didn’t love you, you would want to know even more. Better to know so you could move on and stop burdening him with feelings he didn’t reciprocate. But you didn’t know how to start such a conversation. So you hear yourself blurt out probably the worst conversation starter of the decade.

“Do you love me?”

He stops walking. You stop a few feet behind him, and he slowly turns to face you. You’re fully prepared for that signature Daryl scowl, but instead he looks shocked. His eyebrows knit together in concern.

“What the hell ‘re you talkin’ about?” He asks, and you stare down at the ground, embarrassed you’d asked such a blunt question.

“I mean- you’re just always so… distant,” You respond quietly, and he sighs. There is a moment of silence, broken only by the trees rustling in the breeze. 

“I know,” He murmurs after a second, and you look up to meet his eyes. “I know, ‘n i’m sorry.”

The two of you look at each other for a moment.

“It’s just-“ He starts, then trails off. You stare at him, waiting. He appears to be having some kind of conflict within himself.

“I’ve never felt like this for anyone before, and it scares the shit outta me,” He says finally, and you meet his eyes, dumbfounded. You can tell that that was difficult for him to say.

“That’s it?” You ask, quietly. He moves closer to you, and to your surprise, cups your cheek in his large, calloused hand and looks into your eyes before speaking again.

“‘M not used to this. Any of it,” He murmurs, gently brushing your cheek with his thumb. You lift your hand to rest on his, staring into his blue eyes. “And I know ‘m not good at findin’ ways to tell ya I love ya. But I do, and I need ya to know that. I love ya more than anythin’.”

You nod, feeling relief wash over you at the sound of those three words leaving his mouth. A smile creeps onto your face. He moves his hand from your cheek, using it to tilt your chin up slightly. He takes a moment to rake his eyes across your face, hesitating, before leaning in to press his lips to yours.

He kisses you slowly, deeply, trying to convey the feelings he couldn’t come to terms with to you. You reciprocate, feeling yourself smile into the kiss.

And, as Daryl continues to kiss you amongst the trees, he swears to himself that he is going to make sure you don’t have to ask him that question ever again.

[mrs-harrington-reid]

Begin Again

Snow on the beach

" I can’t speak, afraid to jinx it. I can’t even dare to wish it but your eyes are flying saucers from another planet. Now I’m all for you like Janet can this be a real thing, can it?” - Taylor Swift

Pairing: Post Prison Spencer x Single Mom Reader

Summary: Spencer's therapist had encouraged him to get back into the dating scene to improve his mental wellness but after multiple failed blind dates Spencer feels that it is doing the exact opposite. That is until JJ and Garcia set him up with you.

Warnings: talking about traumatic dates, fluffity fluffy fluff, post prison spencer just being a little lover boy cutie pahtootie, lmk if I missed anything else!

Begin Again (Masterlist)

It wasn't that the girls Spencer went on blind dates with were horrible, they just weren't exactly the best. His first date was with a nice women that was in the same book club as Garcia. The date had gone wonderful until she asked if he had a chip in his neck so that the government could track him, and he would've laughed if she wasn't being completely serious. The next one was a girl who used to nanny Henry, that was all fun and games until her ex boyfriend showed up at the restaurant and she left Spencer with nothing but the bill.

Then there was the one who had too much wine and threw up all over him, the one who believed that the earth was flat and that the holocaust never happened, the one who just wanted a signed book from Rossi, and so on. He had been on at least ten failed dates within the spand of three months and to say he was over it would be an understatement.

"Oh come on Spence just give this one a try." JJ pleaded as they walked into the elevator with Garcia.

"I just don't see how this girl could possibly be any better than the last ten that you and Garcia set me up with."

"But she is!" Garcia exclaimed. "You see me and the all so lovely JJ realized the problem was that we hadn't picked a girl for you together as a team so that's exactly what we did and she will blow your little genius mind."

"fine." He huffed in defeat "but if this date ends horribly you have to promise to never set me up again."

Both the girls agreed to the deal so Garcia sent him your number as fast as she possibly could've.

All he could do was pray that they were right and that this date would turn out to be better than the last ones.

_

You adjusted your knitted sweater while you intensely examined yourself in the mirror. You wondered if you had put on too much makeup or if your tan knitted sweater with jeans and converse was too lazy for a first date.

"Can you stop fixing something every five seconds your seriously stressing me out." Your best friend Liv pleaded behind you while her head hung off the edge of your bed.

"I'm scared liv this is the first date I've been on in a long time and I don't want it to turn into a dumpster fire of a night." You sighed and brushed out the curls in your hair one more time.

"I think its going to be just fine from what you told me this guy is just as awkward as you are so maybe it's like a match made in dork heaven." She laughed.

"He seems super sweet I'm just scared he's going to run for the hills as soon as I tell him about Autumn."

“If he has a problem with the fact that you have a daughter he clearly isn't mature enough to handle a real relationship and needs to start acting his age."

Most men you tried to date either immediately ran or told you that they "weren't looking for anything serious right now" after you told them a out Autumn. You just prayed that Spencer would be the exception considering he was six years older than you and had experienced a little more life than you had.

The ping of a text message distracted you from your previous thoughts. "Okay liv, Spencer is going to be here in five minutes to pick me up. Theo is dropping Autumn off at seven and remember please she needs to be in bed by eight or else she gets grumpy in the morning and I'll be home at least by eight thirty." You rambled.

"don't you worry about Autumn she's going to have a great time with the world's greatest god mother. Also I already took the day off so go clean out your cobwebs tonight, I got this." You both let out a laugh at her last comment.

"I just feel so guilty leaving Autumn the day she comes home from her dad's. I promise I will be home by at least nine so maybe I can call in too and we can go get brunch in the morning?" You suggested fixing your earrings; finally feeling less anxious about how this would all play out.

Before liv could answer you the doorbell rang signaling you that either Spencer was waiting or Theo had been there early to drop Autumn off. Your heart rate picked up as you grabbed your purse and walked to the front door and slowly turned the knob.

"Hi you must be Y/N" Spencer smiled when you opened the door. You hadn't expected him to walk all the way up to your door and knock. Most of the guys you'd gone out with were the drive by and honk type, especially Autumns father Theo when you were dating.

"Yes I am and you must be the famous Dr. Spencer Reid I've heard so much about." You beamed as you walked out and shut your door behind you as soon as you heard liv open her mouth.

"Only good things I hope?"

"I think we both know JJ and Penelope would never dare to say anything bad about you." You said as you both approached his car, blushing when he opened the car door for you.

You were sort of confused at the fact that he insisted on picking you up. You could’ve sworn that you remembered JJ saying something about how he hated driving.

The drive was mostly silent and sort of awkward on your way to the unknown restaurant that Penelope had insisted he take you to after you told her that you enjoyed pasta, she had made your guys' reservation and everything. And when you arrived he opened your door for you once again. Even after being told almost every detail about the man standing before you still felt extremely nervous to make conversation.

"So JJ tells me that your a teacher." He attempts to make small talk.

"I am. I teach kindergarten, honestly I wanted to be an English Lit professor but you kinda of have to wait for one of those guys to die before the position is opened." You winced at your own shitty joke. You and Liv had always joked about how college professors looked like they were decomposing but Spencer didn't know that. And now that you’re thinking about it you remember Penelope telling you that Spencer was a professor when he wasn't with the BAU.

He let out at small laugh and you were absolutely flabbergasted. He got your joke? And he laughed? You were starting to wonder if this was just a laugh at all her jokes type of flirt tactic. But then again JJ had told you that he was sort of oblivious and bad at flirting.

"That's so true. You know the average age of college professors in the United States is 42 but there are significantly more faculty that reported their age at 55 and above so technically there's a lot more old professors in the USA than young professors." He rambled.

"I didn't know that." You smiled. He did understand your joke.

When you arrived at the front door of the restaurant you were met with a sign that said "CLOSED" in bold letters. You swear you could've cried you were only twenty minutes into the date and it had been so wonderful until this.

"oh...well if you wanted we could find a food truck and eat in my car? But only if you want to." He suggested, anxiously waiting for your response. You noticed him fidgeting with his fingers and you immediately interpreted that he was outside his comfort zone asking you to stay but he was still trying nonetheless.

"This isn't your master plan to drive to some viewpoint and get me in your back seat is it?" you smiled trying to ease his anxiety.

"I promise" he held his hands up.

You both walked back to his car unable to stop smiling. He was glad that you already weren't like the other girls he had gone on dates with. And you were happy that he wasn't as douche like the other guys you had been on dates with but you also still needed to tell him about autumn before you fully came to any conclusion about his character.

"Spencer before we continue this date I have something I need to tell you." You stopped walking and looked at him and he had fully set into a panic. This is it. This is when you would turn out to be just as insane as the other ones. He braced himself for your next words. "I have a one year daughter. I needed to tell you before I got too attached and you decided to run. I told JJ and Penelope not to tell you so that I could see how you reacted."

He exhaled a breath he didn't even know he was holding in. "That's a relief."

You quirked your brow at him. "So you don't care that I have a daughter at home?"

"Not at all" he reassured you "I actually quite like kids. I've never had any of my own but I have my two godsons and they're wonderful." You smiled at him. How could he have been so damn perfect.

You continued walking and he opened the door for you once again when you reached his car. And once you were both in the small talk started up again. "So I assume you know how I know JJ and Garcia but how did you meet them." He was still astounded at the fact that they both knew someone this perfect and didn't set you up with him sooner.

"I used to be Henry's teacher and then when my I had my daughter me and JJ were in a mom group together and we became friends. And then I met Penelope when JJ invited me out one night and I've been friends with the both of them ever since." You responded. "And I'm guessing your Henry's godfather that he dressed up as for Halloween when I had him as a student?"

"How did you know? That was such a long time ago I'm surprised you even remember that." He smiled at the fond memory.

"Because it was probably the cutest little costume I had ever seen and extremely creative might I add. My daughter was a pumpkin for her first Halloween and Henry beat her in cuteness by a long shot." You gushed. "But don't ever tell her I said that."

"Can you tell me about her? Your daughter." Spencer asked. You felt like you needed to pinch your arm to see if this was real.

"Her name is Autumn. I named her that because she was born in October and my favorite poem is Autumn by Alice Clary. She has so much personality for a one year old and she’s just so beautiful and amazing. I never saw myself being a mom but now that I am I couldn’t imagine anything else." He admired the way your eyes sparkled and your voiced softened when you talked about her. It was so incredible how in love you were with being a mother. He parked the car and you both walked out and towards the first food truck that you had passed neither of you cared what kind of food it was considering you were absolutely starving.

Within the next couple of hours you had both ordered your food and we're currently eating it as you spoke on the hood of Spencer's car. He has his head thrown back laughing as you told a story about one of your lousy dates that you had been on in the past.

"So I really thought I got stood up and I was ready to leave until this guy shows up and explained to me that he had to have his mom drop him off because he missed the bus. And then he continues to tell me all about how he still lived in her basement and was unemployed." You laughed.

"What did you tell him."

"I pretended that Autumns dad called me and told me that she was sick and I had to leave immediately." You responded "and then he asked me if I could take him back to his mom's house on my way. I ended up taking him home and paying for my own dinner."

"I can do you one better." Spencer laughed "One time JJ set me up with this woman from your mom group named Amy and she seemed okay until she started drinking and in the middle of me telling her what I do for a living she threw up all over me in the middle of the restaurant. I had to carry her out because she could barely walk and I swear my car smelled like puke for a week."

"why would JJ even set you up with her" you wheezed "we literally call her alcoholic Amy. She always has a flask in her son’s diaper bag it’s absurd.” You giggled.

Spencer sat there admiring your beauty as you laughed. Something about you made him feel so comfortable. In the short time you'd known each other you made him feel so comfortable that he didn't need to hide behind all his knowledge. Comfortable enough that he could just be a carefree and casual version of himself that he barely even knew existed. He felt bold and confident in your presence and it made him so truly happy.

Your phone starting to ring. You picked it up extremely fast, scared that it was Liv wanting to face time to tell you that something was wrong with Autumn. But Penelope's name and face was the only thing that covered your screen.

"Oh look who it is." You giggled and flashed your phone at Spencer before you answered. "Hey pen, what's up?"

"So I was calling to ask how the date went but then I realized that I had gotten the confirmation for your guys' reservation at six this morning and I thought it was weird but sei la vie you know?" You and Spencer smiled at her rambling "But then I looked at the website and these people are open at six in the freaking morning! So turns out I made your reservation for seven thirty am not seven thirty pm cause they're closed at five which is completely bonkers if you ask me." She took a second to finally breathe "so I am so sorry if your date got ruined. Ugh and you were the first good one we set him up with too but I'll fix it no worries my love."

"Pen I'm gonna say your hours too late on this call but your all good we found something else to do so no worries." You laughed and turned your screen so that Penelope could see Spencer sitting next to you.

"Oh look at that you guys are still out. I would like to end this call with a quick" she cleared her throat preparing for her next words "I win Spencer, I told you she was a good one! ha!" After those last words she hung up.

"oh my goodness I didn't even realize what time it was" you gasped when you looked at the time on your phone and saw that It was almost midnight. "I'm so sorry I kept you out this late."

"No really your okay. I'd be lying if I didn't already see the time a while ago, I just didn't want this to end so fast." He admitted and it made you heart absolutely melt.

"If I didn't have autumn waiting at home for me I would totally stay for longer but I really should get going." You sighed.

He nodded and took your guys' garbage to throw away before he opened the passenger door for you to hop in. After he got back into the car and put his seat belt on he felt the need to ask you about your previous marriage. Something intrigued him about the fact that you had gotten divorced for what he considered to be at a young age.

“So I know this is sort of first date taboo but um, why did you get divorced? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to I was just kind of curious because I just feel like twenty eight is a young age to get divorced.”

“Oh no I really don’t mind talking about it.” You reassured him. “Me and Theo met in high school. Honestly it was one of those cliche high school sweethearts type of things. I was a cheerleader; he was the captain of the basketball team and our parents were friends so we just thought why not? It seemed right at the time but after I got pregnant with autumn everything changed so I filled for divorce before she was born.” “you know it’s actually proven that children who never experience their parents unhappy relationships actually live a much happier and healthier life than those who experience their parents divorce.” He tried to make you feel better about your failed marriage in his own special way.

“I hope that’s the case with Autumn” you sighed.

“I’m sure it will be. I know we haven’t known each other for very long but you seem like a really good mom.” He smiled as you pulled into your driveway. Neither of you were ready for the night to end but you knew it had to eventually.

“I’ll walk you to your door” he cleared his throat before exiting his car. He opened the door and you both silently walked to the front door but as you went to turn the knob Spencer stopped you. “I’m going to ask you a question and you can feel free to tell me no but it’s going to drive me crazy if I don’t ask. Can I kiss you?”

“yeah” you let out softly. He placed his hand on your cheek and slowly leaned down until your lips met. You moved your arms to rest on his shoulders while he moved his other hand to your waist. Something as simple as a kiss had never felt so perfect to you.

That was until Liv opened the door and cleared her throat in an incredibly overdramatic manner. “Hi I’m Olivia, Y/N’s roommate.” You and Spencer pulled away from each other, cheeks flushed and chests heaving.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Spencer” Olivia waited for a handshake that was never going to happen.

“He has a thing with germs”, “I have a thing with germs” you both stated at the exact same time.

“Anyway I should get inside now I had a fun night with you Spencer, feel free to text me anytime.” You smiled at each other with a silent understanding before he walked away.

you walked past liv to get inside. “So coming home after curfew young lady. Tsk. tsk. Did you get lucky?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“no he was a perfect gentleman and we just got lost in conversation.” You beamed.

“I imagine it was hard to have a conversation with his tongue down your throat!”

“that was the only time we kissed tonight! I really like him liv something about this guy just feels so different. It feels like I was meant to meet him you know.” Liv let out a small laugh but you were completely serious. You knew Spencer Reid was about to change your life you just didn’t know how yet.

“oh my goodness and what was that germ thing about. I mean the man wouldn’t shake my hand but he would swap saliva with you?”

“you know it’s actually more cleanly to kiss than shake hands.”

liv just shook her head “you two really were made for each other. I’m going to bed now but I will be ready for brunch in the morning.” She said before she walked to her room. You threw yourself on your couch and you couldn’t help but kick your feet at just how happy you were and little did you know Spencer was just as giddy as he walked into his apartment.

-

A/N: sorry this took my so long to get this out I’m revamping my fics rn so hopefully I’ll be posting more soon! I hope you enjoyed this and heads up I have not proofread so I’m sorry for any mistakes you come across. I appreciate feedback and I hope y’all have a wonderful day and lmk if you would like to be added in the taglist💕

also if any of y’all are into the Harry Potter universe please feel free to check out my other fic im working on called: The Alchemy

Taglist: @witchsbitchestime @sonicthehedgedoggo @feyresqueen @donttrustlove @alcoholandcakes @person-005 @ilwsma @mega-kittyglitter-1 @creative-heart @chicken-fifi

[gentrychild]

An anon who was rereading Anyone asked me what would have happened if Izuku didn't like eggs and how you tell a supervillain you don't like what he made and that you want something. I have bravely tried to answer said ask but Tumblr laughed at my pain, so here is it, on a new post.

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

When confronted with the super villain Izuku had accidentally broken out of the most secured prison in the country, a man who had basically walked out of said prison as soon as he hadn’t been restrained anymore, Izuku did the only thing any rational person would do.

He ran like hell. No shoes, no plan, nothing except Full Cowl roaring in his veins and he fled.

At least, he tried to.

Strong tendrils stopped him dead, then hands picked him up by his shoulders and suddenly, his feet weren't touching the ground and he was forcibly brought to the kitchen table.

''No, no, no,'' All for One said with the tone one would employ with a disobedient pet or a very young child. ''Your breakfast is going to get cold and we have so much to talk about. Sit. Enjoy the eggs. If you don't like them, I can make something else.''

And he dropped him on his chair, before putting the plate in front of him. Then, he sat at the other end of the table, facing Izuku, his own plate in front of him and he started to eat. Slowly, his manners perfect, while Izuku was dying of sheer stress over there.

Then, he looked at Izuku. Then at Izuku's plate.

''You're not eating?''

Izuku looked at the man who had literally reduced people to paste last night and then at his plate of eggs and bacon, then back at the lunatic who was probably going to skin him alive soon enough. He needed to do something, to get the time to find a way out of this mess.

Now, any reasonable human being would have eaten a bit of eggs and bacon – well, eaten the bacon in Izuku’s case – but he had just woken up, was in a pre-caffeinated state and truly, Izuku had never claimed to have the slightest working relationship with sanity.

“I don’t like eggs,” he blurted out.

The supervillain, the very same man who had literally gone through a prison riot of fellow villains like he was running through wet paper, was startled so badly by those four words that he dropped his fork.

“What do you mean, you don’t like eggs???” he asked like this was a ludicrous notion, like everyone’s favorite breakfast should be eggs and bacon.

“Never liked them,” Izuku lied, by pure spirit of contradiction, far more developed than for most people, for it had been left with quite the amount of room after the disappearance of all his survival instinct.

And it was indeed a lie because, once upon a time, it had been his favorite comfort food, but when he had been a kid, during one of those weeks where his mom was gone and the neighbor supposed to watch over him was busy forgetting his existence, he had gorged himself on it at every meal until he had gotten so sick of it that he had been unable to eat them ever again.

All for One watched him with something that went beyond annoyance, it was the patented look of someone who knew one was messing with him and the words “You’re a goddamn liar” were probably fighting to be left out but he had no proof that Izuku was bullshitting him and if even if he somehow had a lie-detecting-quirk, Izuku would keep denying it because he probably wasn’t making it out alive anyway so why deprive himself of the chance of annoying his would-be-killer?

And actually, why wait?

“I prefer waffles,” Izuku informed him because, after all, All for One had offered him to make him something else.

All for One stared at him without saying anything, probably thinking about all the ways he could have killed Izuku back when they were in Tartarus. Meanwhile, Izuku gave the illusion to be staring back at him when he was actually thinking about the fact the window made a faster exit but All for One would have the time to catch him before he landed seven floors lower while the door offered him more options.

All for One eventually abandoned his plate and started to rummage through the cupboards, going straight to the place where Izuku and his mom usually put the baking ingredients. Either everyone organized their kitchen the same way, or All for One had broken in so many homes that he was just a pro at using any kitchen he found himself into.

“Do you have flour?” the lunatic called out. “I can’t find it.”

Izuku had already flowed out of his chair and was making his way to the door by walking backwards, trying to radiate nonchalance and not the need to RUN AWAY WITHOUT LOOKING BACK.

“Try the highest shelves,” Izuku helpfully suggested, his hand on the doorknob.

It was where his mom put the heaviest pots and pans they usually didn’t use, since everyone in this household needed to climb a chair to access it. With a little luck, they would all fall on All for One.

Izuku left the apartment, not even bothering to fully close the door behind him, and he ran. He was in his pajamas, had found his sneakers by the door and they were still in his hands as he booked it out of his neighborhood as fast as Full Cowl could carry him and he didn’t stop until his building wasn’t in sight anymore. Then, he stopped on a bench, the couple flirting on it deciding they could do that somewhere else when they saw him approaching, and he put his sneakers on, took a deep breath, and decided to run some more, still in the opposite direction of where Todoroki was living, and then, he would figure out a plan.

Unfortunately, liquid shadows chose this moment to appear right in front of him, revealing All for One, who was holding a bag from Waffle Palace in one of his hands.

“I didn’t find any flour or sugar so I just ordered in.”

Some people would have screamed or been startled but Izuku had already ripped the bench from the ground and thrown it at All for One. The villain batted it away with his empty hand but it didn’t matter because Izuku was already half way through the park, or at least until black tendrils grabbed him and yanked him back.

 “Your waffles are going to get cold,” All for One sternly informed him before grabbing him by the back of his shirt and he warped again, this time with Izuku under his arm.

[fanfictilltheend]

❤️‍🔥Violent Heart Part 2:  ♪Remember when I moved in you, and the holy dove was moving too ♫ (or the VERY DARK Stepdad!Mechanic!Covict!Joel x Afab!you one)❤️‍🔥

Hi I apologize that a lot of these reference pics are just of white girls. I tried to find "aesthetic" images that go with the story but so many of them are just of white people and I want to call myself out for this because in the fic's only descriptors are that she has hair and is AFAB -- nothing about race. I also realize that all of the girls in this are skinny too and Y/N's body type is never specified. Sorry fam!! These images are just to get the creative juices flowing and don't truly depict anything from the fic!!

A/n: It’s here!!!!!! 18+ Only. This took me 7 freaking months so you mofos better like, reblog, and comment. This is both my most and least personal fic I’ve ever written and it is dark and relies heavily on plot (smut this time tho!!) READ ALL OF THE TAGS DO NOT COME FOR ME UNLESS YOU DID THIS FR FR. This ones for my dark joel fangirlies(guys and NBies) and the daddy issues fam ily ❤️‍🔥 (also not me naming my fic in part after hallelujah by leonard cohen but there is a reason!!!!!!!!!!)

Summary: Part 2 picks up with Y/N at age 20 and how her relationship with Joel has changed and gets steamier.  SMUT and feelings <3 Also check out this playlist of music that’s in the fic!!!!

Tags (PLEASE READ): Afab!you, pov change, Infidelity, threats, age gap, dressing Joel up (swear I wrote this before he wore that outfit to the SAG awards — the mr.Darcy-core one), racist comment (from Y/N’s douchey boyfriend), douchey boyfriend, confidence issues, feelings, voyeurism, masturbation (m and f), kissing, penis in vagina sex — unprotected (wear a condom), lightest hint of ass play, scar worship?? kinda??, daddy issues, daddy kink, using music lyrics to move the plot, multiple orgasms (m and f), religion and god discussions, stepcest (kinda bc technically he is divorced from her mother), tagging psuedo-incest just to be safe!!, use of y/n

Word Count: ~13k

PART 1

AO3 Link

Violent Heart Masterlist

Full Masterlist of all my work

If you’re being honest, you’ve always had a little crush on Joel Miller. How could you not have? The first day you’d met him had been like some kind of fucked up yet extremely satisfying whirlwind of a daydream. He’d come in, broad and tall and strong, and saved you from your evil (though you do love him somewhere deep, deep down) older brother’s onslaught. Protected you like a knight in shining armor from his punching, beating fists. Treated and touched you so tenderly, so many miles different from how your own father did that you’d been hit with whatever the pleasant opposite of whiplash is. And the way he finally punished Aiden after years of his reign of terror, the violence of it, the justice of it. You didn’t have words for it then, but the way you looked into Joel’s eyes when he was doling out that righteous punishment became some kind of strange secret understanding between the two of you. Maybe it was the first sign of love? You aren’t sure.

As a kid, he’d given you what you like to think of as quiet butterflies. They were always there when he spoke to you, looked at you, touched you, beat the shit out of your father and brother for you, but they were faint enough that you could ignore them. It was a comforting, fluttering kind of love, a gradual understanding of your loyalty to one another. But then puberty hit and the insects became incessantly loud when you thought of, wrote to, or talked to him. They ate at your heart day after day while Joel was in prison – the longing, the missing. Aiden told you that you were obsessed with him. Your mother told you to forget him, that he would forget you. But somehow, he didn’t. You wonder if those bugs live in him too. You wonder if they are quiet or loud and if they gnaw .

You think that they are probably loud. You think this for a few reasons. The first is that you know for a fact, you can feel it in the lining of your soul, and from the evidence of his constant correspondence and care for you, that he is just as obsessed with you as you are with him. The second reason is the fact that you think but aren’t one hundred percent sure is that the last time you’d hugged him he’d gotten a little hard (you don’t want to think too much into that because he is only a man who had been deprived of touch for a long time – but still you wonder…). And the third is the way he looks at you like you are the universe like you are the last drop of nectar and he is the last butterfly left on Earth in a famine. 

That’s how he’s looking at you now in the passenger seat of his old, clunky pickup. You know that he wanted to drive, but you wanted to show him how well you could because he had never seen. Never had the chance to see how well you had fixed, maintained, and took care of his baby and of course he gave into you like he always does. He's smiling at you quietly, but his eyes contain multitudes. Right now mostly pride at your driving.

Joel is a bit different than how you remember sitting near him in the truck the last time you were together, him as a free man, you as a little girl. Somehow, even though you are obviously bigger now, he still seems massive and broad and stronger than ever. His biceps are huge – probably from all the time he had to work out in prison – and peeking out under his blue t-shirt that you brought for him, you think you see the outlines of some tattoos. You look a little closer. On his right arm is text in curvy black ink. You think it reads, “Sarah.” You smile softly at that. On his other arm is a strange orange shape that you have to squint at to understand. The edges of the object are jagged but they form a shape like a badge – and then you know what it is! It is the guitar pick you made for Joel as a child. The one that had pricked his finger and drawn blood and he stuck it in his wallet. You can’t articulate how honored you feel that Joel loved you enough to tattoo something you made for him on his body, permanently, forever. 

“ Well , the light only turned green damn near eons ago,” he complains about your driving, but you know he is just teasing.

There is hardly anything wrong you can ever do in Joel’s eyes. He grins at you a bit lopsidedly and you smile back. You also can’t help but notice the greying of his brown hair. It’s a bit longer than it used to be too and the length gives it a little bit less of a shaggy look. You think it suits him, makes him look a bit older and more distinguished than when he first came into your life twelve years ago. 

Objectively, you know it’s weird to think that your ex-stepdad who is a convicted felon is hot, but it’s just something you’ve always known and thought like that the sky is blue or that orange is your favorite color. You know it’s weird to think of someone who was? – is? – supposed to be a father figure to you that way, but it’s already second nature at this point. You’ve had a few boyfriends (luckily all of them had treated you right), but none of the feelings you’ve ever had for them have compared to the cosmic-sized love and affection you have for Joel and you’ve never known anything different. The years you spent longing, missing, loving, obsessing over, and aching for him in every way under the sun, can’t be healthy, you know this, but they have eclipsed practically every other relationship in your life. No one has ever made you feel as safe and protected and loved as Joel has. No one else has ever looked at you the way he does. No one else’s entire existence has revolved around you the way his has. The sheer devotion in his gaze is enough to make the butterflies inside you scream and beat their wings against your insides like hungry bats. 

And you especially know you shouldn’t have these feelings about another human being violent enough to be capable of taking a life – inebriated or not. You’re grown now and know the man he killed was a scum-of-the-Earth child predator, and secretly you’ve always wondered if there was more to the story than Joel told the police in the official court transcripts you’d read as an adult, maybe even something to do with you since you had been there that day in the repair shop when they met , but you haven’t pressed because you’re sure the whole thing is quite traumatic for Joel and if he ever wants to tell you, you know he will. And more importantly, you don’t really care. Drunken, violent idiot or not, you were already deeply invested and never intended on wavering in that. You’re not sure there’s anything Joel could do to get you to stop loving him and that both terrifies and excites you. 

“Okay, whatcha wanna eat?” you ask, reaching out to rub Joel’s shoulder gently. “Now that you’re free you can have whatever you want! On my mom’s credit card of course. Swear I won’t tell her.”

Joel grins.

“Deal,” he tells you. “I was thinking of a nice steak dinner.”

***

You pull into the fanciest restaurant you can find in the tri-state area and sit down to order a regal, all-American, full three-course steak dinner (though you’re both woefully underdressed – not that you care – though the host gives you a dirty look). All the while, you tell Joel about your major (psychology) and how you want to become a counselor for abused children.

“That’s sort of beautiful, sweetheart,” he tells you with a genuine smile that used to be so hard to coax from him, but now seems to float over to you so easily and gently like a kiss from something as soft as the wings of a butterfly. “Wanting to help defenseless children. You’re kinda like a guardian angel for them, ya know? Damn proud of ya! Also, these mashed potatoes are goddamn delectable!” he exclaims after taking an experimental bite. “Have I mentioned that prison food is shit?”

You smile bashfully and want to tell him that he is your guardian angel (you wonder if he thinks the same of you) and inspiration in a backward sort of way for wanting to help kids in the first place since he was so good at protecting you for the most part (though you obviously don’t believe violence is the correct answer in your line of future work). But kids need protectors. Somehow you know that deep down you forgive him for all of the violence he caused because you would forgive him for anything. And him being proud of you? You don’t think there’s a better feeling in the world than that! You burst with pride. Your real father never said that to you, but Joel doesn’t feel like your father now. He is something different entirely. Something that entirely belongs to you.

“And you’ll meet my boyfriend, Max, tomorrow,” you nod as Joel moves onto the steak and lets out a soft moan at how good it tastes. “He’s heard a lot about you.”

Joel’s face flattens.

“And who is this kid exactly?” he sneers a little, attacking the steak with his knife. 

You smile internally at the obvious jealousy he’s trying to hide from his voice.

“Hey, Max is a decent guy!” you insist in his defense. “He’s pre-law. Real smart. He’s gonna be an important person someday, I know it. You’ll get on.”

That last part is a bit of a lie since you’re not sure the two will actually like each other. 

Joel examines your face, looks deep into your eyes.

“All I know is, just because someone is important, don’t mean they’re good to you or for you for that matter.” 

You can’t help but think of your father, the most “important” man you know and how much of a degenerate he is compared to someone ostensibly average like Joel who didn’t even have a status symbol like a college degree and how perfect of a man you think he is, despite his obvious flaws. You blush a little, scrunching up your nose. 

“Just lookin’ out for you, sweetheart,” he continues, smiling at the way you do. “He ever fuck with you – he ever break your heart, you know just where to send him, alright?”

“Yeah, Joel,” you grin. “Don’t need you getting any more jail time though, alright?” “You may have made a valid point,” he concedes with a smirk. 

***

When you two enter your shitty, one-bedroom apartment it’s already dark outside. Joel actually grins when he notices his and your guitars have both been mounted on the wall. 

“We can play ‘em tomorrow,” you tell him excitedly. “If you want to, I mean…”

“Hell yeah, I do,” Joel smiles. “Wanna hear ya singing for me, honey. I missed that.”

You smile to yourself.

“You can have my bed, and I’ll take the couch,” you decide, getting back to business. 

“No way, babygirl. I ain’t taking your bed.”

“Joel, you’ve literally been on a prison mattress for eight fucking years! Can’t imagine that’s been very comfortable.”

“That’s exactly why I won’t mind the couch. That’ll feel like heaven to me. Don’t want you messin’ up your back, sweetheart.”

You open your mouth, but Joel beats you.

“And that’s that,” he insists. 

“Alright, alright,” you concede, knowing by the look on his face he’s not budging. If one thing, Joel has always been stubborn, but you like that about him. “D’you wanna watch a movie or something?”

“Actually, baby, if ya don’t mind, I’d like a quick shower. Been dreaming about taking a real, private one for ages.”

“Yeah, of course!” you nod, motioning toward your bathroom door. “Towels are under the sink.”

Joel makes his way inside and soon steam is billowing out the bottom of the door. 

You busy yourself with some homework, but just as you walk past the door to grab a glass of water, you think you hear Joel singing.

You listen more closely over the fall of the running water and make out him singing the chorus of an old ABBA song with a deeper, sadder tone to it,

♪ “ Slipping through my fingers all the time / I try to capture every minute / The feeling in it / Slipping through my fingers all the time / Do I really see what's in her mind? / Each time I think I'm close to knowing / She keeps on growing / Slipping through my fingers all the time…” ♫

You feel like such a sap, but you feel a tear forming in your eye at the way Joel must be thinking about his and your relationship and everything he missed in your life. You aren’t mad at him, but his absence hurt in a way you didn’t know you could feel. And you’ve never blamed him, really, but the lack of him for eight years of milestones really did kill a piece of you. You can’t help but imagine a butterfly at the bottom of your stomach with its wings pulled off. That’s how you felt all that time without Joel – like a butterfly without wings. A writhing worm of a human being, senseless and lost in a giant world full of forces you couldn’t control. 

You listen to Joel’s beautiful, deep voice until you hear him turn off the tap and you scurry away and act innocent. 

Joel emerges from the bathroom then with nothing but a white towel around his waist, steam from the shower floating lazily into the room behind him like precession. And oh, wow, is he ever a sight to behold. His hair is wet, dark brown flecked with grey, and starting to get curly from the moisture. You also can’t help but notice his broad chest, the expanse of it, the dark curls of hair, his bulking, muscular tattooed arms, his soft, hairy tummy, the V-shape of muscle that descends beneath the towel, his happy trail. You are overwhelmed by the soaking beauty of him. You’d seen Joel shirtless before, sure, but it had never felt like this . 

“Gon’ grab some of those clothes you bought for me and then maybe we could watch something?” Joel asks as you try so fucking hard not to stare at him.

“Sure!” you squeak, staring down at your notebook at the kitchen counter. 

You think you see a smirk from Joel, but you're not sure because your gaze is averted as he grabs some clothes to change into and disappears back into the bathroom.

When he reemerges, dressed in a wifebeater and shorts that accentuate his form, you two sit next to each other on your cushy sofa and surf the TV for something to watch. You feel Joel’s hairy knees against your jean-clad one and your heart flutters.

“Can’t believe I’m really here,” Joel says softly as you pass re-runs of Full House, a dog show. “Like I gotta fuckin’ pinch myself to know it’s not a dream.”

Suddenly you feel a large, weathered hand on your cheek.

“Missed you so much, babygirl,” he murmurs, looking into your eyes, massaging the line of your jaw ever so lightly, trying to hold your skittish gaze. “More than I even have words for.”

First, you avoid looking at him a bit bashfully, but then you stare up cautiously into those big brown eyes that feel like a familiar kind of home and you’re such a goner. You lean into his warmth, the warmth of his hand.

“Missed you too, Joel. So much,” you admit, never wanting this moment to end or him to let go of you. “More than anything.”

He leans forward a little and for a second you think…but then he’s leaning in and planting a heavy kiss on your forehead. A kiss that has weight to it – not those soft, weak ones that Max gives you haphazardly when he’s drunk or high – the only time he’s brave enough to be vulnerable with you. This kiss says something, means it so sincerely too. 

“Love you, honey,” he tells you. Then his face falls. “Sorry I…wasn’t quite there to say that to you enough in person.”

“It’s okay, Joel. I forgive you,” you insist. “I love you so much, dummy. More than you even know!”

But you truly do appreciate the sentiment. 

***

You settle on an old, black and white classic, Paper Moon, that’s playing on the TV Land channel.

Joel wraps a big arm around you and you snuggle close. You’re pretty sure there isn’t a better feeling in the world than being this close to him. Even after all these years he still smells like Joel; like home (and, if you’re being honest, a bit like your vanilla shampoo) .

You lean against him, your cheek pressing into one of his firm pecs. You begin to feel sleepy, drunk on the steady sound of his heartbeat, alive and beating against you and really here . 

You nod off.

***

At first, you don’t believe it, but you feel someone with strong, firm arms lifting you into the air, cradling your back and the insides of your knees in a bridal-style carry. The movement wakes you, but you don’t open your eyes because the safety and security you feel is too good to give up. Joel carries you to your bedroom and lays you down gently in your bed. You’re still in day clothes and shoes so Joel takes off your worn sneakers with a feather-light touch and places them at the foot of the bed – you can tell from the soft thumps it makes. He maneuvers you so tenderly under the covers and tucks you in with love and care. You wonder the last time someone did that for you and pull up a blank. If anyone ever did that for you it was probably Joel. Maybe your mom did when you were really young. Certainly your father nor Aiden ever did – your father hadn’t liked to touch you except out of anger – kind of like you had some kind of weird, contagious disease. Aiden’s hands had almost always hurt too, but not Joel’s – never his. 

He breaks you from your thoughts by pressing another kiss to your forehead. Your eyes are still closed so you aren’t sure, but you think he watches you for a second and lets out a long sigh. 

Then you hear your bedroom door close softly so as not to disturb you. You smile, you can’t help it, and drift back off into a peaceful sleep.

***

You wake up to a mumbling, grunting sort of sound. You look over at your clock and read 3:42 a.m. You sit up. You can kind of hear some muffled noises coming from outside your room. At first, you feel a little concerned – like maybe Joel is in pain or something as he is the only one who could be making the noises. The walls in your apartment are paper-thin. Like you could hear him sneeze clear as day if he were to because sound travels through the shitty walls so easily. You should have told him that. But what the fuck is he doing up at 3 a.m.? 

You creep (and you mean creep) silently to the door of your bedroom and open it the tiniest crack. The way your apartment is laid out, the back of the sofa is the first thing you see and the back of Joel’s head about six feet away. He doesn’t sound in pain the way he’s groaning and then you understand exactly what he’s doing. Of course the man is jerking off! After being in prison, stuck around people for so long of course he wanted a good, private wank. He isn’t looking at anything from what you can tell, no magazines or anything. Must be using his imagination. You wonder what he’s thinking about, if he’s gotten good at that over the years.

You should turn around, slink back into bed, and cover your ears with a pillow so the man can have some privacy. But, fuck, the way he’s grunting. His voice is so fucking deep and sexy and then he lets out a soft, vulnerable moan and you feel heat envelope your whole body. You think you hear a soft fuck roll off his tongue and your heart almost beats right out of your chest. You can hear the lewd slapping of his fist on skin getting louder and more intense. Then you hear a soft take it, fuck. And Jesus, you are so fucking wet between your thighs. You ought to be ashamed. Instead, you reach down your hand feverishly beneath the band of your jeans and soaking underwear instinctively to stroke yourself ever so slightly. You sigh in relief, but you are fucking gushing, your fingers covered in your slick. You can’t see anything besides the back of Joel’s head, technically, so this couldn’t be that wrong, could it? He lets out a soft groan, you can tell he’s holding back so as not to be heard, but the desperation in the pathetic little noises this hulking man is making is turning on every switch inside you. Oh how you want to go over there and take him in your mouth, to taste him. God you are so fucked up! You’re still touching yourself gently, not really fully going at it yet, considering the possibilities that could follow if you went over there. But before you can decide to do anything, Joel positively whines, moans, and grunts fuck, unh, and you think but aren’t sure, babygirl, and finishes.

You stop dead still in what you’re doing. Did he really say “babygirl” or was that just your horny-ass imagination playing tricks on you? You’ve never heard Joel call anyone babygirl except you. Was he really thinking of you? On the one hand, if true, mega fucked up. On the other, wow, incredibly hot. You think about going over there and asking him to finish you off or something as crazy as in all those dumb romance novels you used to read in middle school, but just as quickly as the idea comes to you, you hear another noise: loud snoring. Joel is asleep.

Typical.

You snort to yourself. That was so quintessentially Joel. You don’t want to disturb him now. The moment has passed. And only then is when you remember you have a fucking boyfriend. 

That doesn’t stop you from closing your door softly, crawling back into bed, and reaching your hand down beneath your panties to touch yourself. You stroke your clit, imagining it is Joel’s rough hand rubbing against you. Holy fuck. You haven’t been this wet since you used to touch yourself thinking about him in the past. It’s like he can reach every part of you, every layer in a way that no one else can. You know the whole thing is so fundamentally fucked up, but you can resist sinking into your favorite fantasy. The smell, the touch, the feel of him. You imagine the noises he was making so beautifully on the couch, feel heat coil through your entire body, and immediately cum hard without even sticking a finger inside yourself. 

The pleasure you feel is so unparalleled and real you have to cover your hand with your mouth not to scream out your powerful orgasm. 

Sweat drenches your whole body as you come down. 

God, you are so fucked.

***

The next morning you wake up to the wafting smell of someone cooking eggs. You emerge from your room a little sheepishly from last night’s events to find Joel behind the kitchen counter making eggs and toast. 

“Mornin’, babygirl,” he grins, his eyes shining like he’s excited about something.

And then you realize: that something is you.

You grin back.

“Good morning, Joel,” you beam at him.

You were so afraid things would feel awkward after what you heard last night, but nothing ever feels awkward with Joel. In some ways, he’s still just your average dorky, friendly old ex-stepdad, convicted felon. In other ways, everything about him sets your heart on fire, but it would be stupid to ruin what you have with him because you think it’s remotely possible he might be interested back. You know this is dramatic, but if he flat-out rejected you, you think you might die. Truly. Like those butterflies inside you would beat their wings so hard they’d burst your heart.

“‘Membered you liked ‘em poached,” he nods, breaking you from your thoughts. 

He scoops two poached eggs onto one of your plates and grabs a piece of toast from the toaster which he smears with butter like how you used to eat toast as a kid. You can’t believe he remembered.

“Thanks so much,” you tell him.

He grabs a few eggs and toast for himself and sits beside you at the counter. 

“Nice to be able to cook me ‘n you some real food,” he remarks. “If I eat one more cup o’ noodles in my lifetime I swear to God Almighty…” he trais off.

He’s looking at you like you put the goddamned sun in the sky. Your heart melts as you stare at his features, the faint curls in his hair. Oh, how you want to reach out and touch him. But that just isn’t how you operate. You won’t ruin what you already have.

The butterflies in your chest howl. 

***

` You lay out the day’s schedule to Joel. You have plenty of time to hang about (you see him eyeing the guitars), and then you need to go shopping for some actual clothes for Joel since the things you brought for him don’t constitute a proper wardrobe. Then you will go out to dinner and meet Max. 

Joel grunts a nod at that last part. He doesn’t seem too thrilled.

“Wanna show me what you’ve been playing?” he asks hopefully as he gets up to put both of your plates in the sink,

“‘Course!” you nod enthusiastically. “Max says I need to work on my fingerpicking so I can’t promise it’ll be all that good.”

Joel rolls his eyes.

“Show me what you’ve got.”

***

You sit down on the couch right next to Joel, each of you holding your respective guitars in hand, across your laps. 

Joel looks ecstatic to have his guitar back in his hands. He fiddles with the tuning and finger-picks a faint melody.

“Haven’t played one since the prison band. But then some dumb motherfucker clobbered another sorry son of a bitch to death with a saxophone so that ended our music privileges,” Joel explains. 

“Jeez,” you reply.

Joel is sitting so close you can feel his body heat. You just want to hear him sing, but he insists on hearing you.

“Joel,” you try as innocently as possible. “D’you remember how to do an A-flat? I forget and I need it for my song.”

“Sure, baby. Lemme help ya. Now put one finger on this bit of the 4th fret here,” he begins, snaking a big arm around your shoulders so he can maneuver your fingers to the correct position. 

His touch is electric. He feels so good and warm. You feel the intense urge to climb into his lap and embrace and stay there forever. His big caloused hand full of scars places your fingers correctly for the chord. The same hand that must have jerked himself to completion last night…You can’t help but wonder how much cum there was…The truth is, you know how to make an A-flat. You just wanted to feel him.

He backs away and you whine internally at the loss.

“There we go,” he says soothingly, reaching out to rub your shoulder. “That one can be tricky. Now where is my performance?”

Your nerves are squirming around inside you but you begin to play and sing to the best of your ability. 

You look into Joel’s eyes.

♪“ You've got a heart on fire / It's bursting with desire / You've got a heart filled with passion /  Will you let it burn for hate or compassion?” ♫ you sing. 

Joel watches you intently, sitting up straighter. 

♪ “What's the point with a love / That makes you hate and kill for? ♪

You sing as best and as seriously as you can. You look up and think you maybe see a tear in Joel’s eye.

When you finish, it’s clear Joel is finding it hard to select the right words to convey what he’s feeling. 

“I–” he tries. “That was…well, let me just show you how I can answer that if anyone ever could to a performance as beautiful as that.”

You blush. 

He begins to finger-pick a familiar tune, Instantly, you are transported back to eight years old in the back of Joel’s old pickup truck, listening to one of his many cassette tapes. It’s “I’ll Never Find Another You” by The Seekers. The original version of the song is pretty happy and upbeat, but the way Joel sings it slowly in his deep and weathered voice makes you feel sad and achy inside. The emotion behind his voice is palpable.

♪ “But if I should lose your love, dear / I don't know what I'd do / For I know I'll never find another you / Another you / Another you…” ♫ he trails off.

It’s your turn to tear up a little. It’s crazy to know he means every word he’s singing too. He sings like every word is his last breath. When he finishes you are crying a little.

“You oughta record an album,” you sniffle, leaning into his shoulder, throwing him a side hug.

“Wanted to be a singer,” he replies with a small grin, leaning his head against yours. “Back when I was young.” 

You sit back up straight.

“You did? I never knew that.”

“Don’t tell nobody really,” Joel replies, looking a bit sad you left his immediate proximity. “Just a stupid dream ‘n all that crap.”

“‘S not stupid,” you tell him. “You really have a beautiful voice, Joel. It’s like if I could take it, hold on to it, and keep it forever in my chest pocket next to my heart, I would.”

“That’s where I keep you, baby,” he tells you honestly.

He reaches up a big hand to yours and guides your own to place it right on his heart over his plaid shirt. You can feel it beating steadily below your palm to the rhythm of something as delicate and ferocious as the beating of butterfly wings.

“Right here.”

***

You take Joel shopping. At his insistence it is nothing fancy, just the local department store. That doesn’t stop you from dressing Joel up in ridiculous outfits of your choosing. You make him try on a Hawaiian shirt, some golf polos like your dad liked to wear, a pinstripe suit and he lets you because saying no to you has never been in his vocabulary. He acts grumpy on the outside, but you can tell he is amused. You know in the end, you’ll just end up buying every flannel shirt and jeans combo they have in the store, but it’s just fun anyway. You watch the fabric hug his torso, his tummy, the slight bulge at his waist. At one point he comes out shirtless and you try very hard not to swoon as you stare at the hair lining his chest and his adorable little tummy that you for some reason have the urge to bite. The band of his Hanes boxers sticks up past his jeans and he looks so good. He even lets out a genuine smile. The middle-aged sales attendant who is helping you even takes a good look at him which makes the butterflies inside you swarm possessively. 

Finally, you make him try on a proper white-collared button-down shirt and black dress pants with matching black shoes and he looks so good you’re actually at a loss for words when he asks you what you think. They hug the curves and lines and planes of his body so nicely. All you can do is ask him to put on a black tie to match and he does at your behest following some customary griping that he would never wear such a monkey suit in the first place. The effect that a fully dressed-up Joel has on you is not one to be reckoned with. He might as well be wearing the men’s version of lingerie for how it makes you throb and ache between your legs. He looks like a force of nature, commanding and tall. It makes you weak. All you say is,

“Looking good, old-timer.”

He snorts.

When you finally ditch all the fun clothes and grab the essentials, Joel offers to go pick up the car while you pay. He tries to give you his eight-year-old credit card, but you insist on treating him on the condition he buys the “monkey suit.” After a bit of prodding, he gives in and you go to the sales attendant to pay at the counter. 

“Your dad is really cute,” the sales attendant giggles to you as she rings up the pile of clothes. 

Your cheeks go a bit red. You don’t really care enough to correct her.

“He’s my guy,” is all you say absentmindedly as you fish out your wallet from your purse.

The sales attendant hands you the receipt and on it, you see a scrawled phone number.

“For If he’s single,” she explains. “I’m Barb from sales.”

You look her over. She’s close to Joel’s age and conventionally pretty with long brown hair. The exact kind of woman Joel should be dating should he choose to get back in the game. Your stomach twists and the butterflies howl inside you.

You take the receipt, thank her, and join Joel back in the car (who is more than happy to be driving this time). 

“What took so long?” he asks casually. “You two writing a novel in there?”

You think seriously about what you should do. You consider letting the bugs have their way and tearing the receipt with Barb’s number on it to shreds. But you want good things for Joel. The chance of you two ever being together the way you wish is so far-fetched that you know you shouldn’t even be thinking it. A literal pipe dream. He was your stepdad for christsakes. He literally fucked your mother! (Gross!). Barb is exactly the kind of woman Joel should be going after if he’s up to dating right now. You hand him the receipt begrudgingly. 

“Sales Lady likes you,” you sat flatly. “Name is Barb.”

“Oh,” he says softly like he’s a bit flattered. 

He looks back at her through the glass door of the store and she waves at him. He waves back politely. You feel your stomach twisting into knots. 

“You think…you think you’re gonna call her?” you finally ask as casually as humanly possible, dreading the answer. 

Joel looks over at you, his gaze sweeping over you. Then looks back at Barb through the window. He looks her up and down.

“Nah,” he says with a smirk, looking back at you. “She ain’t my type. Only need one girl in my life right now anyways,” he winks.

Was that Joel flirting? With you?

Regardless, you smile back and then sigh in relief and grin to yourself as you two drive away. 

Much to your satisfaction, Joel crumples up the receipt and throws it out the window for good measure. 

***

You get ready for dinner, to go to a nice Mexican-Japanese fusion restaurant that Max picked out. You wear a red dress that accentuates your figure and matching heels and to your shock, Joel reemerges from the bathroom in the white button-down shirt and black dress pants you picked out for him (you had been sure flannel would be part of his ensemble). God, he looks good. A part of you wants to ditch Max and just stay here with Joel forever. He looks you over, his dark eyes sweeping over your frame. You think there is a tinge of possessiveness in his voice when he says,

“ Christ, you look beautiful, babygirl.”

***

You arrive before Max and sit down at the fancy white table-cloth-covered table next to Joel, a booth facing you. Max finally makes an appearance a half hour late and sits down across from you, sweeping his hair out of his face, sliding into the booth. Joel is frowning and the butterflies beat their wings inside you nervously.

“Sorry I’m late,” Max announces, puffing out his chest a little and smoothing out his collared shirt as he looks down at his watch and then over at Joel. “Hey, baby,” he says to you. Then, “And, uh, nice to meet you. Joe, was it? Heard a lot about you.”

“Joel,” Joel replies flatly, eyeing Max.

Max is a good-looking guy, everyone says so, but he looks more like a little boy than you’ve ever thought as he squirms uneasily in his seat under Joel’s unrelenting gaze and launches into a tirade about his frat’s inter-mural lacrosse team practice and how his team should have totally won the scrimmage and that’s why he’s late. And of course, he was the one to score the most goals.

“And the taxi cab driver was a nightmare. Only spoke Spanish. It’s like, if you come to this country speak fucking English, am I right?”

You notice Joel’s jaw tighten and his fingers clench. 

“Max, that’s so rude!” you tell him, frowning. “We’re at a fucking Mexican restaurant!”

“Anyway,” Max continues, rolling his eyes at the interruption like he barely even heard you, smirking. “Where’d you go to school? What do you do for work, Joel?  Besides making license plates, I mean. Kidding!” he insists as you stare daggers at him. 

Joel leans forward ever so slightly but you slip your leg over his to hold him back and he calms down a fraction. It’s like when you touch him, everything tense in him melts away. 

Joel sits up straighter in his chair and looks at you, stretching his arm across the back of your seat protectively like it’s a casual thing and not an unconscious sign of possessiveness.

“I’m a mechanic,” he grunts unceremoniously to Max. “I mean, I was anyways…Didn’t go to school.”

Max frowns ever so slightly. 

“You didn’t go to college? You must’ve gone to trade school at least?”

“Nope. Picked up what I know over the years. Not everyone gets a free ride from their parents,” Joel smirks.

“Free ride?” Max snaps. “I’ll have you know I spend every summer interning at a law firm!”

“Yeah, your dad’s,” you can’t help but snicker.

Max’s cheeks turn a bit pink.

“At least I’m not a psych major,” he shoots back. “I mean, no offense, babe!”

“What’s wrong with psychology?” Joel snarls, his eyes darkening. “You ought to be proud to have such a thoughtful and intelligent girl like Y/N studying such a topic.”

It’s your turn for your cheeks to go pink. 

“Joel–”

“Who said I wasn’t?” Max sneers. 

That makes you feel a bit better. 

“I’m just saying, she could have inherited the second-best law firm in the tri-state area from her pops if she was pre-law like me,” he smirks.

Your smile fades, used to hearing this kind of shit from him. He knows you and your father don’t get along at all, but not the full extent of it. He also knows you don’t have an interest in pre-law. But you swallow down how you really feel.

“It’s fine, Joel,” you tell him, placing a hand down on his thigh.

It’s not that you enjoy the way Max has been talking to you, but you are so used to it from the men in your life that it feels like the common denominator must be you. And sometimes it feels like maybe they have some kind of point. And fighting back only makes things worse. You’ve learned that over the years the hard way.

“It’s not fine!” he snaps like he’s trying to get you to see sense, looking deeply insulted on your behalf. Your heart thunders in your chest. “This boy has never worked an honest day in his life and he’s telling you what you ought to be doing? Bet his hands are soft as a baby’s ass. He doesn’t know shit about you, babygirl.”

You may not know the hardship of labor that Joel has taken on in his life, but your hands are not smooth. They are full of scars. And Joel is right. Max’s are soft like silk. You look down at the most prominent, ugly scar on your middle finger. You don’t even know which man in your life gave it to you. But you do know it means something. Shows you survived something. Survived your stupid father too, not that Max seems to care.

But Max never loses. 

“Whatever,” he smirks dismissively. “Sorry I’m not some, like, common blue-collar worker. But I guess I should be taking advice from someone who became a fucking convicted felon ‘cause they drank too much one night,” he shrugs with a terrible sneer.  

You know it’s over then.

But Joel surprises you. Doesn’t immediately strangle Max like you thought he might. Simply stands up tall and silent over Max’s frame which has suddenly begun to shake ever so slightly in obvious fear, his blue eyes widening. Joel’s fists are clenched tightly at his sides. 

“Wouldn’t mind them sendin’ me right back in, ” Joel growls low. “Drunk or not.”

You shiver and Max positively cowers. 

“Got something to say? Don’t wanna take it outside?” Joel leers, smirking ever so slightly at the trembling boy before him. “I’d even let a little boy like you take the first swing.”

“Your stepdad’s a freak, Y/N,” Max stammers, not taking his eyes off of Joel. 

“Joel, it’s fine, okay?” you growl, not wanting him to actually hurt your boyfriend. Let alone in public! “Shouldn’t talk about Joel like that though, Max! Jesus!”

“Babe, I’m sorry, okay?” Max tries, eyeing back and forth between you and Joel. “I’m just trying to look out for you. I don’t get what you see in him with a real Dad like yours! Your dad has so much to give you!”

Look out for you? So much to give you? What could he possibly give besides a stupid law firm and two black eyes? 

Max looks a bit desperate. Him apologizing for anything is actually a new concept for you. Your heart twitches ever so slightly. He must actually like you a lot. But Joel would never do anything to hurt you if it was in his power. At least not intentionally, unlike your real father. 

“That’s it. I’m leaving,” Joel snarls moodily, turning around. “Don’t want to do things I might regret to Mr.Future-Corporate-Lawyer over here. Have fun with him .”

Joel looks deeply hurt. Like you are choosing Max over him or something. That’s never what this has been about, has it? Doesn’t Joel know you’d do anything for him? That the hurt on his face hurts you more than anything you’ve ever felt. Ever.

“Joel, wait!” you decide and disappear after him, leaving Max behind at the table.

“Babe, what the fuck!?” Max yells, but you don’t care. “Come back here!”

***

You ride back in silence, Joel’s hands turning white against his grip on the steering wheel. 

When you break through to the front door of your apartment, Joel finally snaps, the anger on his face directed at something that feels like you for the first time in your life.

“You really love that little son of a bitch, don’t you?” he sneers, uncharacteristically harshly towards you. 

“So what if I did?” you shoot back, a little shocked. “It’s none of your business, Joel. What the fuck?”

“It is so my business,” he snaps back. “That kid is no good for you, Y/N. He doesn’t understand you. You deserve someone much better than that who will actually go to the ends of the earth for you. He wouldn’t do anything for you.”

There is a desperation and vulnerability in Joel’s words and tone that you’re not sure you’ve heard before. He sounds like he had been waiting the whole car ride to say this, maybe even his whole life. You aren’t sure.

“Max does give a shit about me,” you try to convince yourself, getting angrier. “I mean at least he was there for me while you were gone.”

Joel flinches.

“How do you know what’s so good for me and what’s not when you dipped out of my life for eight years?” you continue harshly. “Because why? It wasn’t because you were drunk, was it? It was because you couldn’t control your anger. You never could.”

He stares at you.

“I controlled it for you,” Joel says so quietly you almost miss it. “ You are the only reason I did any of it.”

“What?” you stammer, not sure you want to hear more. “W-what do you mean, Joel? Any of what?”

A million thoughts begin to run through your mind, but you push them aside. Theories about the case and your ideas of Joel’s true nature all threaten to drown you but you push them away.

“Do you want to know why I really killed that sick son of a bitch?” Joel asks dangerously after a long moment of silence. You stare at him, your body frozen. He looks down at his hands, flexing them like he can still feel them punching or around that disgusting man’s throat. “Why I killed him all those years ago? It was no accident, I’ll give you that. Manslaughter, my ass. I killed that scum of the Earth because he threatened you . To do terrible things to you with those disgusting hands of his. So I broke each one, but it wasn’t enough. I killed him because I didn’t want you to get hurt and because I didn’t want you to live in fear of him. I was tired, Y/N. Tired of being afraid for you in a world that doesn’t let you do shit except fight back. I loved you so much, Y/N, it hurt me. It scared me, but I couldn’t let him hurt you. I’d die before I let anyone hurt you again, not him, not your father, not Max, not anyone. You have to understand. I love –” 

And then it’s all over. You’re not sure who moves first, but you think it might be you. The butterflies are rustling and thundering and screeching inside you and you kiss him. And Joel kisses back, devouring your mouth in his. You grab the back of his graying brown hair and pull him as close to you as you think is humanly possible. He cradles the back of your head so gently you almost lose your breath. And you are kissing and kissing and kissing and kissing. There is nothing else in the universe except this kiss. You have never felt anything like this in your life. It is like every butterfly inside you has gone silent. It is like the world has stopped just for you and something new is forming inside you.

Joel killed that vile man for you. To keep you safe. Like he always said or showed that he would. He gave his life away for you. He did the unspeakable for you.

He bites down on your bottom lip and all your brain can manage to coherently think is: more, harder .

But then Joel is breaking away from you slowly.

NO! your heart cries out, the delicious pleasure and pain draining away from you. The butterflies swarm dangerously inside your chest, worse with every inch he travels from your lips.

“Joel,” you whine. “What? You…you don’t want–”

“Don’t even say that, Y/N,” he growls dangerously. “Of course I want you. How could I not? I have spent my entire life wanting you in some capacity, baby, but I ain’t no good for you either, alright? I…” he says slowly like it takes every inch of his body to agree to say this. “I am not a good man, Y/N. I never have been. I’ve done wrong in every chapter of my life. You deserve someone much better. I don’t want to hurt you. Physically or mentally. Our history… The damage I’ve done…” he trails off.

“You don’t understand,” you swallow, tears forming in your eyes. “You have already loved and hurt me more than any human being on planet Earth. And yet somehow there is nothing you could do that would keep me away from you, don’t you get that? The Joel Miller I love is not a good man and I don’t care. I want all of you. All of the pretty and crooked pieces you try to hide away from me. You killed a man with your bare hands, arguably one of the worst things a human can do, and I don’t care. I still want you, Joel. Maybe even more because of it. No one has ever loved me the way you do and that is the love I want and it terrifies me.”

A single tear falls down Joel’s right cheek. You reach up to wipe it away, but Joel grabs your hand on the way reflexively, so you help him wipe his own tears away. 

“I love you,” you whisper.

“I would move the Earth for you,” Joel whispers back.

“I know,” you nod. “I’ve always known. I–”

But he is kissing you again before you can say another word, like a man starved. You hold onto his cheeks, your fingers caressing his stubbly beard. 

“ Joel,” you whine when you break for air.

“I wanted this so badly,” he says softly, grinning a lopsided grin. “Can’t believe this is real.”

“Me too,” you giggle.

You have to lean up a bit, but you press your forehead to his gently.

“Oh, baby,” Joel smirks. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive, ya know that? You like

it when I go a little rough, honey?” he smirks down at you in satisfaction, reading your mind.

You have to stop yourself from getting lost in the warm pools of his brown eyes, your panties soaked.

He reaches an affectionate hand down to rub your side softly.

“This okay, babygirl?” he coos, massaging his hand down your torso.

“I’d let you do anything to me, don’t you know?” you snicker. “Pain or pleasure, it’s all the same to me. I like all of that. I just want you so bad.”

“Think a safe word is in order,” Joel grins, leaning down to kiss your neck. “How about ‘butterflies?’” you suggest. 

“Sounds good to me, baby,” he grins, looking genuinely happy for the first time in hours. 

He leans down and places a calloused hand around your throat, not squeezing (yet – you hope) and plants soft kisses and bites down your expanse of skin. 

“All mine,” he mutters into your skin. “My beautiful babygirl.”

You feel his erection pressing against you through his black dress pants which makes you moan softly.

His hand trails over your crotch and he starts rubbing over the tight fabric of your red dress.

“That okay?”

“Yes,” you whine. “Want more, Daddy.”

Oh shit. You don’t mean to say it like that! You know it is about ten levels of fucked up to call Joel that, but how is it your fault that in every fantasy that’s how you think of him? You figure you’re probably past the point of weird and every other standard of decency, but you’re still afraid.

“Sorry…” you mumble. “I–”

“No, no, baby,” Joel says quickly. “It’s alright, you can call me whatever you want. I don’t mind, sweetheart.”

“You think it’s weird,” you mumble again, further stupid tears forming in your eyes.

He snickers. 

“Baby, I think we’re beyond weird at this point. Let me show you how turned on it makes me.”

Joel takes your hand and places it on his crotch. He takes your left hand, the one with the scar and you cringe a little, but he is rock-hard.

That’s good because you’re positively drenched.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. Daddy likes that more than you know, alright?”

You take your hand back, smiling, but you cover your scarred finger, shocked he will allow this fantasy for you.

“Whatcha hidin’ from me, baby?” he asks, noticing the positioning of your hands.

“I hate that scar on my finger. ‘S so ugly,” you admit.

Joel looks flabbergasted. 

“That’s the last damn thing I think of when I look at you. Ugly? Who in the fuck told you that?”

“How it got there is ugly. It’s marred skin, looks gross,” you mumble.

Joel moves to take out his cock, and when you nod he unzips and unbuttons his dress pants, pulling out his length. You have fantasized about his cock for god knows how long so you are more than excited to see it. He reaches to place your left hand with the scarred fingers around the length of his dick, which is thick, but longer than you expected. The leaking head is almost purple and your mouth begins to water as you stroke him gently.

“It’s part of you,” Joel tells you, his eyes connecting with yours. “I love it. It shows you survived. Gonna jerk off to it, Daddy loves it so much. And when I’m done you’re gonna love it too. Swear I’ve got so many over the years I can barely even count ‘em. Even got a few on my middle finger. Maybe even one from a certain guitar pick you made me. Nothing like that could ever make me stop wanting you, ya know that, right?”

You smile and take your time stroking him, wanting to show him how much you love and care for him, scars and all.

He grunts softly, closing his eyes, but then shoos your hand away with a feverish kind of want. 

“Yeah, touch yourself now, baby. Daddy wants to see how wet you are for him. With that scarred finger. C’mon, now. ‘S gonna make you feel so good.”

You do as you’re told and reach down underneath your dress and begin to touch yourself, especially with your middle finger. You stroke your clit and then your dripping wet slit. You moan softly as Joel’s eyes rake over you, taking in every sigh and groan you emit. The butterflies are forming something big inside you, which presses against the inside of your tummy and ribcage.

“Daddy,” you whine.

“Enough, little one,” Joel whispers. 

He takes out your hand and begins to suck the slick off of each of your fingers, groaning deeply, making intense eye contact the whole time.

“Fuck, angel,” he moans, having a tough time keeping himself together, you can tell. “Taste and smell better than like how I pictured. Like you were fuckin’ made for me, I swear.”

He reaches a hand of his own down to stroke himself and his moans become more desperate. Finally, he sucks on your middle finger covered in your slick and groans so deeply you feel like you might cum untouched. He stares into your eyes. 

“ Mine, ” he growls possessively. “Oh, shit! Gonna–”

Then he takes your left hand and leads it to meet his throbbing cock. You stroke him, harder this time, fisting his thick length, moaning softly and that does it for him.

Joel cums all over your hand, oozing white globs of cum over your fingers, once, twice, three times. 

“Fuuuuuck, babygirl,” he groans. “Oh, shit, I’m so sorry! Couldn’t help it. Yeah, suck it off, baby. That’s it,” he commands, and you do, licking up all of his cum, even the part that got on your middle finger. 

When Joel comes down he still looks half-crazed with desire.

“Sorry about the, uh, early release. It’s been a while since anyone touched me,” he babbles in embarrassment, his cheeks flushed pink. “But I don’t wanna hear shit about your gorgeous hands ever again, you hear me, babygirl?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you nod, snickering. 

He looks like that one word has set his entire universe back in order again. You honestly don’t care at how fast Joel came. You love how much it shows he wants you. And his heady taste is making you weak. You could taste him for days and days and never get tired, you’re sure.

“Can still get you off though, don’t worry. Shoulda let you cum first, but I couldn’t help it with the things you do to me. Goddamn. Can Daddy eat your pussy, baby?”

You grin, but then your face falls. 

“Didn’t shave,” you admit, feeling dirty. 

Max hates your hair down there.

Joel looks at you in confusion.

He laughs, his face scrunching up.

“Oh, sweetheart. You think I care about that? Only little boys give a shit about things like that. Not men.”

You shiver.

“Really?”

“Of course I don’t care. Didn’t ya hear what I just said? C’mon now. You can lie down on the couch.”

You follow instructions, pulling your dress over your head to reveal white lace panties and no bra. 

You move to take the panties off, but Joel stops you, staring at the lines and curves of your body. 

“Jesus, fuck,” he growls, taking you in.

You think you see his cock twitch ever so slightly. He palms his softening length instinctively.

“Beautiful,” he snarls, pushing you back on the sofa. 

You happily fall backward. 

He lies on top of you, his white button-down shirt pressing against your naked body tantalizingly. 

He bites your lips roughly and you groan against him.

“Daddy’s mouth,” he commands against you.

“Yeah, duh, Daddy,” you snicker.

As if he even needs to say it! 

He kisses down your neck expertly and you begin to shiver and whine, your pussy aching with need and neglect.

He stops at your breasts, sucking and biting each one.

“Daddy’s tits,” he declares, snaking a finger over the lace panties that protect your clit. “Of course,” you respond, moaning softly, grinding needily against him.

He continues lower, licking down your breasts and over your tummy which he plants with kisses that tickle and then one hard bite on your hip that leaves behind teeth marks.

“Daddy’s body,” he impresses upon you.

“Yes, Daddy. Only yours.”

“No more of that little shithead, Max,” he snarls, an inch above your clit.

“No more Max,” you repeat as he presses kisses down your pussy, still covered by soaked white lace panties. 

“Only Daddy.”

“Only you.”

“Good girl,” he growls.

He finally removes your panties and begins to eat and suck your clit and pussy so hard and enthusiastically, swirling his tongue around your bundles of nerves that you grow exponentially closer by the second.

“Joel,” you whine. “Oh my God.”

It doesn’t take long. The second his calloused hand is pressing a finger and then two inside of you it’s over. You were so needy for him that you could have even cum from just his mouth alone, but his hands are what send you over the edge. And something different happens as orgasm crashes down upon you. The butterflies all join together and transform into something bigger and softer, caressing your insides, cooing. It feels like a breathing white dove is spreading its wings inside you, the tips of its feathers brushing against your rib cage. And you cum harder than you ever have in your life. 

Pleasure engulfs you in currents, facilitated by the gentle flapping from deep

inside your body.

“ Joel,” you moan. “Oh my God. Daddy, pleaseee–”

“Please what, baby? Make my princess cum again? I would eat that pretty little clit and

pussy every day for the rest of my life if I could, fuck. God, so perfect and you’re so fuckin’ tight. Look how fucking hard you make me, angel.”

He takes one of your hands and places it on his half-hardening cock. Not going to lie, you are partially shocked at his recovery, but another part of you seems to know that if there was anyone in the universe that could do that to him it had to be you. 

“Never got hard again from anyone I’ve ever fucked before…” he trails off dreamily like he can read your thoughts. “You’re so gorgeous, babygirl.”

“Not so bad yourself, handsome,” you tell him lazily, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth as you pull him closer to you. 

The heat from his body keeps you so warm and tender and for a moment you lie on the couch, Joel’s still-clothed body pressed to yours.

“Can you fuck me, Joel?” you ask, squirming against him needily.

“You can’t say that shit to me, baby,” Joel groans, his cock getting harder. “Not quite ready yet.”

“Lemme help you out,” you offer, pouting. 

You reach down and stroke his half-hard length and then bend over and press a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock.

Joel swears, staring down at you with so much adoration it pours off his face. No man has ever looked at you like that before. You’re certain. Perhaps no man ever will again? Not like that.

“Shit, baby,” Joel babbles stupidly, his eyes threatening to swallow you up in that beautiful shade of umber. “Never gonna forget this moment,” he grunts as you begin to suck his cock properly, feeling it slowly get hard enough to throb between your lips with each thrust of your head and gluck of your throat. 

You stare up at him, your eyes wide and wanting and Joel lets out a soft, vulnerable moan as you begin to really suck him and take him down the walls of your throat.

“ Unh , babygirl, fuck,” he whines and you have never quite heard Joel so desperate before. “Gotta pull out or I’m gonna cum. Holy fuck.” 

It sounds just like it did the night you accidentally spied on him jerking off. 

“You’ve been thinking about me a lot, huh, Daddy?” you ask, releasing Joel from your mouth like he wanted, though his hips buck forward ever so slightly with desire, the tip of his cock just barely scraping against your mouth. He grunts.

“Maybe so,” he replies, looking a little guilty. “Don’t know how not to these days.”

“Heard you on the couch last night,” you whine yourself. “Had to touch myself ‘cuz of it, Daddy. I’m sorry.”

Joel reaches out a hand to cup your crotch and rub against your slick pussy.

“That’s so fuckin’ naughty, baby,” he groans. “Look how wet that made you. All for me.”

You steal a glance at his cock and find that the tip is weeping too. And he is so fucking big compared to the size of your hand. Fuck!

“You were thinking about me, weren’t you?” you whisper.

“All about you, baby,” Joel nods in agreement, his hips twitching ever so slightly. “‘Bout touching you just like this.”

He slinks two big fingers inside you and you moan deliciously, the feathery wings of the newly-formed dove fluttering against your insides. 

“Gotta stretch you a bit more,” he grunts into your throat, pushing in a third finger. “Daddy’s so big and you’re so tight, angel. Don’t wanna hurt ya. Not too bad at least. Not yet…That’s it, pretty girl, fuck,” he grins when you slide back on his thumb in pleasure which had traveled to the rim of your asshole “Good girl, so good for Daddy. So naughty too. Don’t think Daddy won’t punish you.”

“Want you to hurt me, Daddy,” you moan. “When you fuck me. Please fuck me hard. I want all of you – pain and pleasure. One hundred percent Joel. Joel, please, I need–” 

And Joel does stop for a moment.

“Never hurt you in a way you didn’t beg for,” he tells you seriously. “You know that right, baby?”

You stop your rutting against him and look into his eyes.

“Are you kidding? You would protect me with your dying breath. I know that, Joel. Never been afraid of you since I’ve really known you. Not once. I mean: fuck; you gave up your whole life for me. To keep me safe, for fuckssake. In every word you say and don’t say to me I can feel how much you love me.”

 “I do love you so much, babygirl,” he whispers, nuzzling your forehead. “If I had to, I’d do all of it all over again if it meant I’d get you. I’ve made mistakes, big ones, but protecting you, loving you was never one of them.” 

Warm tears trail down your cheeks, but Joel licks and kisses them away. 

“Wanna feel me inside you?” he asks. “Don’t wanna go too fast, but I need you, baby. Needed you for so long…Sweet little pussy’s just cryin’ for Daddy, huh? Gonna fit me just like a glove, I just know it — if you wanna…”

“Yes, please, fuck me, Daddy! Please, Joel Wanna feel you—ah!” you moan as Joel shoves his entire length into your pussy in one hard thrust eagerly. “Oh my God, please fuck me harder!” you moan, reeling from the deep blend of pain and pleasure of him sinking inside you, clenching down around the thickness of him. “Joel, please!”

He pauses, sweat glistening on his brow, sneering.

“You really want harder?”

You shiver. The way he says that makes your heart beat wildly in your ears.

“Because babygirl, I would treat you like porcelain if you want it so. I will never hurt you, my angel, my gift from god, my goddamn sweetest heart please know I will break my fucking hands before they would hurt you, before I would ever hurt you in a way that you didn’t want, no matter how much it hurt me. Do you understand me?”

“Of course, Joel. But you want it too,” you smirk. “You aren’t innocent in this, are you?”

“Fuck, of course i’m not innocent. I want you, babygirl. In every way there is to want another. Want every inch of you, inside and out. Wanna mark you up so the world knows you’re mine, honey. Want everyone to smell me on you and know I marked you, moved in you, darlin’, please, see, I’m no fucking Hemingway, I didn’t go to college, I’m not like you with words, but I need you to understand that I mean this with my whole chest and heart. Really, I’m not a big talker, never was, babygirl, but I need you to understand I—”

  “I do, you dumbass fucking fool!” you shout, giggling at his desperation. “I’d understand you even if you were speaking another language. You’ve made your intentions loud and clear. I don’t want a Hemingway, I want Joel Miller!”

You pull him in for a kiss and he thrusts in you again a second time and you end up moaning clumsily in his mouth, but you can feel him smiling , smiling like some dumb idiot against you and maybe you called him the correct insult because he is a dumbass fucking fool for you. And it turns out you must be one as well because you are smiling like an idiot for him too.

“ Joel,” you moan as he begins to move inside you, hitting deep places that Max or any of your previous exes never went. Pleasure is tracing itself along the line of your stomach. “Oh my god, I love you so much,” you babble and you’ve never meant that more than you do now.

You can feel Joel coming apart above you, plowing into you, sighing deeply. His grunts and moans and thrusts spur on the intense pleasure. 

“More!” you moan. “Oh my god. Harder, please, I need–”

Joel plants rough bites on your neck and kisses too like he’s trying to consume every inch of you. 

He places a large hand around your throat questioningly and you nod.

“Beg for it,” he commands in his deep, sexy voice — the voice that’s been in every wet dream you’ve ever had. You think you might just pass out from the sound alone. 

“Choke me, Daddy,” you whine as pathetically as you possibly can, batting your eyes. “Oh, please, I could cum from just this, but I want more. More of you. All of you.”

“As you fuckin’ wish, baby,” he snickers in amusement. “Bet no little boy ever fucked you like this, huh?” he growls, continuing his rough pace, slamming against your walls, his eyes growing wild.

“They don’t compare to you, Joel. It’s always been you. In every orgasm. Fuck, never felt like this! Shit! Shit!”

Joel reaches out his large scarred hand and applies gentle delicious pressure to your throat. You know even something like this can be dangerous, but you crave that feral look of violence in his eyes and the power that comes with it. You want him to own you completely – every inch of you. You want him to mark you just like he said he wanted to because he is yours and you are his and has it ever really been any other way? You can’t remember properly from the pleasure rushing through you, the white dove inside you spreading and fluttering its wings, cooing softly. You think it’s only ever been what you feel now.

“Joel, Joel, fuck!” you scream, orgasm building in you.

“I know, babygirl. I know,” he coos himself into your mouth.

He pulls you closer, presses his nose to yours, his lips to yours, biting and kissing like a starving man possessed. He looks into your eyes and it’s there! That look of pure predator closing in on its prey, that look of ownership but also the most intense love you think you’ve ever witnessed. You would recognize that look anywhere. Your starved brain cries out for oxygen beneath his iron grip. 

“Gonna cum again, angel,” Joel growls. “Gonna make you cum so hard you’re never gonna forget who you belong to. Whose pretty pussy this is.”

He is pounding so hard against your cervix and his dick is so big inside you and the pressure of his hand squeezing around you is so overwhelming and the scent of him could make you faint straight then and there, but you let go and feel yourself cumming in enormous waves as you squeeze down around Joel’s prick, the pleasure more intense than any single bodily experience you’ve had.

“ Daddy ,” you whine breathlessly, tears trickling out of your eyes. “Oh my god!”

“You’re mine, babygirl, always have been–FUCK!” he shouts into your throat, collapsing on top of you.

And then you feel him starting to empty himself inside you, painting your sensitive insides with trustful after trustful of hot cum. You’ve never felt so helplessly full and sticky in your life, the brilliant pleasure billowing through every inch of you. You want to feel like this every day, stuffed full of Joel’s cock, so close to him you can feel his heartbeat against yours, the one true place you belong. 

“So beautiful, babygirl,” he whispers in an exhausted type of awe.

When your words come back you reply,

“Shut up, you’re the hot one,” through a snicker. 

You look down at your body, covered in purple bite marks and bruises forming like galaxies across your body. 

Joel snorts. Then he sits up on the couch and you lean your cheek against him. You lean up to kiss his cheek and he blushes ever so slightly.

“I said a lot of stuff, Y/N, but I want you to know that I meant all of it,”

“Yeah, you probably said more in the last hour than you’ve ever uttered in your entire life,” you tease, sitting up.

“I’m serious,” he snickers.

“I am and was too,” you nod. “I’m so glad that you’re here with me — that we did this. I know that our…origin story is weird and unconventional and some might argue straight up wrong, but I need you, Joel. I don’t care about that or think I could go back to pretending to be what we were.”

“You think I’d want you to act like that?” he asks incredulously. “You think I want this to just be a one-time thing?”

“Of course not,” you smirk. “But as close as we are I can’t actually read your mind. I mean…how are we going to be together realistically?”

“I’m not sure,” Joel admits, frowning a little. “For now it has to be a secret unless you want your mother or brother in jail for murdering me this time around. But someday, I dunno. It’s dumb…”

“What?”

“I just have these thoughts sometimes about you ‘n me. I…” Joel’s cheeks turn a bit pink. “Had a lot of time to think in prison, you know? And I’d Imagine us living on a ranch somewhere quiet out in the country with a flock of sheep. I could work at the tractor and auto-body repair shop that’d be out there, you know, in this dream of mine, and you could be a counselor at a local school if that’s what ya wanted. I don’t know, l know it sounds silly, but nobody would know or bother us there. But I want you to finish school and have the best life possible, babygirl. I’d wait a thousand years for you, but if you didn’t want me anymore the way we are now, I’d respect that. And if you’d allow it, I’d still be there for you just in a platonic sense — or just there for you however you want because I can’t imagine my life with you in it. I’d do whatever it takes, brokenhearted or not. I just can’t be separated from you like that again. A day longer in prison and I could’ve keeled over and died. And it’s crazy how much I mean that.”

“I don’t ever want to be separated from you again, Joel,” you agree. “I know the original plan was for you to find work and get an apartment of your own and I would love for that to still happen, but with you being intimate with me in every way – even if it has to be a secret. I don’t pretend to know what the future holds, but I need you in mine. I’ve never needed something more than I need that. Understand?”

Joel pulls you into a hug and leans his chin on the top of your head. He kisses it then your forehead. You lean up and plant a kiss on his throat and then his Adam’s apple.

“Don’t mean to get too ahead of ourselves now. We can take things a day at a time,” he mumbles into your skin.

You yawn contentedly, the tiredness clawing at your eyes, so unbelievably spent.  

“I like hearing about your dreams and I’d go anywhere with you, Joel. But I am kinda dead from how good you just fucked me. Take me to bed?” You ask exhaustedly into his chest.

“Of course, babygirl,” he smirks down at you.

***

You don’t let go of Joel all night long, burrowed up against his chest, his heartbeat against your ear. And he doesn’t let go of you either. After the most intimate night of cuddles and snuggling you’ve ever experienced as well as the deepest and most restful sleep you’ve had in ages, you wake up to Joel gone from the bed. You frown, having wanted more than anything to wake up in his strong arms. Fear grips your insides as you wonder if he finally realized last night was a mistake and that you were never meant to be together in the first place (what you fear more than anything). A stupid vulnerable tear comes to your eye, but then you cock your head and hear music playing. Guitar music. 

You think of your apartment as shitty, but truthfully you care deeply about your little private space and one of the things you do actually love the most about it is the tiny balcony that overlooks a measly courtyard and part of the city. That’s where you find Joel in the deck chair holding his guitar, strumming it lazily.

“Mornin’, beautiful,” he says, fingerpicking a melody that scratches at the back of your mind with familiarity. 

“Morning, handsome,” you tell him softly, plopping your smaller hand down on his shoulder. 

The city hasn’t woken up yet, the soft glow of morning shining beams of light onto you and Joel, filling you with warmth. You sit down in the deck chair next to him, bathing in the sunlight.

“Whatcha playing?” you ask curiously, crouching to sit up on your knees.

“You know the song ‘Hallelujah’ by Leonard Cohen?” Joel asks in that beautifully deep voice of his. 

He isn’t even singing yet but you could listen to him forever. 

“‘Course,” you nod. “It’s a classic. You used to play it for me once in a blue moon.”

“Know what the word ‘Hallelujah’ actually means?” he asks. 

You think about it for a second.

“It’s about praising god and all that, right? Why d’you ask?”

He pauses, both his words and fingerpicking. 

“Babygirl,” he begins and you can tell he’s about to say something serious. “You know I’m not too good with words, but I need you to know this: I’ve never had much to thank god for in my life, except for Sarah, you know? But then He took her away…”

You place your hand on Joel’s and he looks at you sadly, but appreciatively. He flips it over and holds it in his giant paw of his own marked-up hand. 

“And I was so fucking angry. Nothing left in me. The only good part of me gone. I was a broken man. And I hated Him. But then He, despite the shit I’ve done…He gave me you . And I know our road hasn’t been easy or fair, and the pain you’ve felt and I have felt but…I guess what I’m trying to say is you are the reason I believe that any type of…goodness— of holiness— can exist in this universe. And I’m not a religious man, I don’t believe in most of that dogmatic type of shit, and I don’t think you do either, but I do think someone or something is up there and I wanna thank them for you. Does that make sense? Do you wanna hear what I mean? I just feel so damn grateful.”

A tear you hadn’t noticed was there rolls down your cheek. 

“Of course it does and of course I do,” you tell him.

You think perhaps this is the closest thing he can do to bearing his soul to you. 

And then he leans over and kisses the tear away and begins to fingerpick the familiar melody.

♪ “I heard there was a secret chord…”♫

You listen to his deep weathered voice as the sun grows higher in the morning sky, casting both light and shadow over Joel’s wrinkled, handsome face. The light trails over you too. You feel the dove inside you cooing contentedly, dusting its wings gently against the edges of your insides. 

♪There's a blaze of light in every word / It doesn't matter which you heard / The holy or the broken Hallelujah…”♫

When he finishes he places his large, scarred, calloused hand in yours and you hold it between your own scarred fingers.

“Thank you, Joel,” you tell him, meaning every word. “I think there’s hope for us, you know? I don’t believe in hippie-dippie type stuff, but something in this universe did bring us together. And I’ll be forever grateful for that too, ya know?”

Joel squeezes your smaller hand, his big fingers engulfing yours as the dove coos louder inside you.

“Babygirl, you know that I ain’t a good man, or a rich and educated one like maybe you thought you’d end up with, but I am less of a broken one because of you and I’m never letting you go. If we’re together, I think we have a chance.”

A/n:PLEASE COMMENT LIKE REBLOG IM BEGGING IM PLEADING IM CRYING DID THE SMUT LIVE UP TO YOUR DREAMS????

PART 1

PART 3 (coming soon)

Violent Heart Masterlist

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@lunpycatavenue

[verstappenf1lecccc]

mafia max origin story.

You didn’t even know when or how you ran into Max, but the fact that you did run into him meant that this was the end of your freedom.

You were almost dozing off in class while your friend complained about her toxic relationship. Seeing as your friend was not even supposed to be in one, you knew any involvement from your side would result in nothing but trouble.

You had planned to help your friend run away, far away from her family and her toxic partner, just far away from everything. It was a foolish idea, one that you should have known would get you into trouble. Alas, you just wanted to help. You fled from the university campus; your friend came from good money, meaning you had so much money you could afford to have 16 cars lined up just for security.

You made the mistake of trusting one of your other friends, Daniel. In short, you got caught, and your friend swiftly disappeared, leaving you to deal with this mess all alone. What seemed like good fortune quickly turned around once you kneed the guard to run free back into class.

Your hair was messy, eyes erratic, and breathing even worse.

You tried to blend into the classroom of around 100 students, opting to sit right at the back behind the projector. You were praying to whoever was listening that no one would find or even recognize that you were involved.

Alas, no one must have listened to your prayers because not a second later, the closed doors banged open, and you meekly raised your head at the sudden intrusion.

That’s when you felt your blood run cold; you had eyes on you from everywhere. You played it cool and hoped that they were there for someone else. They were not. In a blink of an eye, rough hands were on you, dragging you away from where you sought shelter.

No one around you even dared to raise their heads in protest or curiosity. You were doomed. No amount of screaming or crying seemed to affect the men who held you in a tight, bruising grip. It was almost as if fate was trying to mock you and give you the slight chance to run away.

A guard slipped up and accidentally let his grip on you falter. You took the chance and ran as fast as you could, not bothering to check where you were running to. Your body hit something hard and muscular; your eyes quickly took in the person in front of you.

If you thought your luck was horrible then, well, you were in for a hell of a ride now. In front of you stood your ex-best friend's brother; you had never met him in person, only seen him in pictures you were shown. Max was handsome, tall, and had the most beautiful eyes; his eyes, however, currently showed nothing but anger and hate.

If you thought his guards were being rough, you had no words for his grip. "Where is she? I know you know where she is. Just tell me, and you can get yourself out of this, or else," or else what? you rebutted, an ugly snarl raised on his face, one that screamed don't provoke me. You really did not expect what he said next. A light chuckle left his mouth before his grip on you hardened even more. “You will take up her place,” meaning? you questioned before being pressed up against his hard chest. “You will be my prisoner, her freedom for yours.” Your eyes shuddered and tears automatically leaked from them. You would never have understood how or why the universe hated you so much, but to give up your own freedom for your friend seemed idiotic.

As you were being shoved into the car, you kept on uttering your defense and how you genuinely didn’t know what or where his sister was. It all fell on deaf ears. Your tears kept flowing; your direct thoughts were to jump off his car regardless of the consequences.

But it was almost as if he could hear your thoughts and was two steps ahead and had locked them away before. Frustrated, overstimulated, and overall miserable, and drowning in your tears, you ended up fainting right as he stepped away from the car.

You laid there unconscious, almost as if you were dead; it was the unfortunate symbolism of your freedom dying away. You were rudely awakened by his firm grip on your face, shaking you awake.

That invoked your nausea, urging you to rush towards a bathroom. He must have seen that something was wrong and let you go to run towards the bathroom, not before letting you know that there was no way out of here.

After emptying your stomach, you lay still on the cold bathroom tiles. Only then did you realize that you had your phone on you and attempted to call your father; on the last ring, he picked up, but while you shakily tried to let him know the situation, he simply ended the call, not before saying that these were the actions of your consequences.

Your eyes yet once again watered up; you weren’t giving the peace of crying alone as the bathroom stall door was kicked open, revealing another guard who simply called his boss in to assess your situation.

He was annoyed with the amount of tears you were wasting; it was as if you were trying to make him feel bad for his decisions.

He didn’t feel anything, unfortunately.

It wasn't long until they reached the mansion, and you were thrown towards what seemed like a herd of maids, each one of them having inquisitive looks on their faces. From there, you were being dragged to what seemed like endless salon services, each of them making your eyebrows rise higher and higher.

You went through everything from a hair pampering session to having your body waxed, all of which you didn't consent to.

After what seemed like ages, you were finally left alone in a rather large room to sit and ponder what was going on. You were thankful on one hand for the opportunity of finally being alone but were concerned as to why your salon treatments seemed to be as though you were being prepped to become a bride.

Your eyes once again watered at what your father had told you.

Here you were, dying to somehow escape and reunite with your family, and yet your father simply didn't bother to even ask how you were doing.

Everything seemed so messed up and painful; your perfectly manicured nails came up to tug your perfectly blow-dried hair.

You felt suffocated, and you didn't even know how long you were going to be his prisoner.

The thought of being far away from him did calm you down, but being locked up in a room with nothing but a wardrobe seemed rather anxiety-inducing.

Just as you were getting comfortable with the silence and your thoughts, he walked in, loud and proud, his perfectly polished boots smacking the floor, alerting you of his presence as if his cologne didn't do enough.

Max spoke rather quickly, but slowly but surely crashed your whole world down with each word. "Why are you looking at me like that? Did you not enjoy your salon services?" You shook your head, which resulted in him chuckling.

"Why am I here?" you asked him.

"Oh, you haven't figured it out," he smirked.

"I was under the impression that you were rather smart, but alas, we are to be wed," he stated, a statement that made your head feel heavy and light at the same time.

You were to be married to him, the monster who took you away just because of his sister and left the same man who refused to listen to your justifications.

You were to be married to that same man.

Your legs gave out, and you almost landed on the ground, his strong hands helping to break your fall. "and listen, I like my women in blue; make sure you tell that to the maid when she takes you to the lingerie store."

With that, he left you to collapse and shrink away from his touch, something about even getting to the stage of him seeing your lingerie made you want to throw up.

You were stuck with no way out and with someone who had no idea of letting you go.

[the-badger-mole]

I read your Azula redemption post, and I like it. It's kind of sad, but hopeful at the same time. I saw you said you had other ideas for Azula redemptions. Can you give us another? Is there a version you see where she and Zuko are still in each other's lives? One where she maybe still has some power, like as a general or advisor or something?

Thank you! Yeah, it was kind of bittersweet. I think it's also the most complete version of a redemption for Azula that I could think of working for her. The thing about her staying in court with any sort of power is that, to me, it feels kind of like letting a drunk run a bar. The reason I see Azula needing to either be in prison or in exile is because within certain circles, Azula would have a lot of people wanting to put her on the throne in Zuko's place. I think it would take a long time for her to not want to be on the throne in Zuko's place, and well, there goes the whole redemption narrative for her.

As for her having a relationship with Zuko, the version I put in that outline is probably the healthiest one they could have. In a redemption arc where she actually wants a close relationship with Zuko, I don't see her wanting to share him with anyone. At best, she would tolerate his friends and family. Mostly, I think she would resent the fact that he was all she had, but she wasn't all he had. I don't see her being the cool Aunt Azula to his children. She might form a bond with the child that is most like her, if she's allowed the time to spend with them, which I don't see being the case. Obviously, in any of my stories, the mother of Zuko's children is Katara, and I don't see Katara being okay with Azula being around her kids. Especially, unsupervised (completely understandable, btw). I mostly think she wouldn't want to interact with Zuko's kids at all. Her resentment for Zuko having people who love and support him apart from her would color their relationship and cause a lot of tension between them.

The one version of an Azula redemption where I could see her and Zuko having a "normal" relationship where she is actively a part of his life and knows and is known by the people most important to him is an AU story where she never tried to kill him.

The problem I have with most Azula redemption stories is that they don't tend to address the very real harm she did. They just kind of blow past the fact that she was a villain and excuse everything she did because of Ozai's abuse. First of all, canonically, the most abuse we see her get is being Ozai's Golden Child, which yes, I do believe is a form of abuse, but isn't enough to let her off the hook, which a lot of Azula redemption stories do. Second, blaming all of her actions on her abuse completely ignores any agency Azula had, which I think is insulting to her character. Azula was cunning, astute, and ruthless. Let her be those things. She hurt Zuko and made enemies of his friends. Let her have to face the consequences of that, too. An Azula redemption would be messy and inconsistent, and that is not only okay, it's necessary.

[frvnkcastles]

hey i hope ur okay❤️ can you do Frank x Reader where she has an alcoholic and abusive father who has been in prison for two years and one day he is released and shows up at her house and she is very scared so Frank protects and comforts her

FIND MY PEACE OF MIND ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: When your abusive father turns up on your doorstep, Frank takes care of it.

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse (not specified), alcoholism, hurt/comfort, feminine nicknames

Word count: 1.7k

Author’s note: I know what it’s like to have alcoholism in the family (parents especially) and how dire the consequences of it can be, so you have my absolute sympathy, anon! I’m sending you so much love, and I hope you’re doing alright <3 I added a little detail of Frank offering to make it a completely alcohol-free home because that’s something I’ve thought about a lot, I personally don’t drink at all because of my family and I don’t think I’d be able to share a space with someone who drinks regularly. We see Frank drink occasionally on the show but I don’t think it’s ever implied he has a problem? So I 100% feel like he’d give it up if you asked. Anyway, I hope you enjoy :)

Upon meeting Frank for the first time and subsequently learning he had been in prison, you were understandably sceptical about getting involved with him. You already had a man in your life who had deep-seated anger and hatred within him, manifesting in violent tendencies, and that had scarred you for life. So, you hesitated, and he had immediately seen the doubt and even fear on your face, and although he couldn’t explain why he wanted your approval so badly, he did.

”Hey, if you don’t wanna see me again, I ain’t gonna hold it against you. But you, uh… maybe you should read about me first. Judge for yourself”, he had suggested before parting ways with you, and you had promised to do just that. You had a napkin with his phone number scribbled on it, and against your first instinct, you didn’t throw it away. His words stuck with you, and when you got home that night, you searched up his name and were smacked in the face with a flood of news articles about him.

Most of them were negative, and you had quickly questioned why he would encourage you to read them. Journalists hadn’t hesitated to write horrendous things about him, but they had also dug up his past and spread it all over the internet for everyone to learn about. And it was those tidbits that soon opened your eyes to the enigma that was Frank Castle. He wasn’t a senseless killer and he wasn’t an abuser or a tormentor of innocent people — he was seeking justice for his brutally gunned down family and cleaning up the streets from evil.

You had been wary because of your past with your father, but the more you read about Frank, the easier it became to see that he was nothing like him. In fact, your father was a man who would sicken Frank, a man that Frank wouldn’t think twice about hurting, and that realization welcomed an odd feeling of safety into your heart.

You called Frank the next day, and it was the beginning of him always hanging around you. Before you knew it, your life had turned from bleak loneliness and anxiety about your father’s eventual return to endless kisses, late-night dates on the rooftop of your apartment building and sitting on your boyfriend’s lap while icing the newest bruise on the corner of his eyes. He was a whirlwind but in the best way, and you found yourself completely enamored with him.

He felt the same way, certainly not having expected falling in love with someone, and especially as hard as he had with you. He had tried so hard to stay guarded and deny himself the truth, but it had been impossible to resist you, and so, inevitably, he let his heart be in the driver’s seat for a change and admitted to himself that he adored you.

With your new relationship came opening up to each other about everything you had been through. You had already learned so much about Frank on the news that it felt like an invasion of his privacy, so you had asked him to tell you in his own words when he was ready, and in return, he was all ears when you shared the story about your father and his issues with alcohol. Frank had been more than understanding, immediately insisting that cutting out drinking entirely was something he was willing to do for you — whatever it took to create a safe environment for you. On top of that, he had assured you that he’d do his everything to keep you safe from everyone, but especially your father, and you fully trusted him to keep that promise.

Still, you didn’t expect that hypothetical situation would come to life. You were used to worrying about your father and the eventual time when he’d get out of prison, but when Frank began spending more and more time at your apartment, you lost track of that nervousness and it became an afterthought. You felt safe for the first time in years, but it all came crashing down on one otherwise regular Sunday.

There was a knock on your door and it caught both your and Frank’s attention in the kitchen where you were cooking dinner together. ”I’ll get it”, you smiled at him before he could jump at the opportunity, gently squeezing his arm before you left him with the chopped vegetables and headed for the front door.

You swung it open, and at the sight of your father, your face lost all vitality and your heart sank all the way down to the floor. ”There you are! At least you had the decency to open the door”, he slurred, clearly already intoxicated, and panic emerged in your chest. He had to have been only just released from prison, and here he was, already drunk and tracked you down.

”You’re not welcome here. Leave, okay?” you stuttered, far less demanding as you wanted to be, and the attempt made your father snort. He tried to step inside, but you quickly narrowed the doorway, not letting him invade your home. He reacted with a mean stare, calling you an ungrateful brat under his breath, and you tried your best to fight off tears.

”Sweetheart, who is it?” Frank called to you from the kitchen when you didn’t return, and with a shaky exhale, you realized you didn’t have to face your father alone. You had the city’s greatest weapon right there with you.

”It’s my father”, you declared loud enough for him to hear, and you instantly heard him drop the knife in his hands. Not more than two seconds later, Frank was stomping from the kitchen, fueled by his concern for you but his face twisted into something furious.

”And who’s this?” your father chortled, swaying back and forth in the hallway, barely able to stand up. Frank assessed the situation, and he swiftly understood that there was no talking sense into a drunk man. That was fine with him — he wasn’t really in the mood for polite conversation, anyway.

”Get the fuck outta here. This is your only warning”, Frank grunted, leaving nothing up to debate. He stood in front of you, shielding you from your father who was hardly impacted by Frank’s thinly veiled threat, and you quietly cried from the sheer terror.

”Hey, you can’t tell me—”, your father began, but Frank was having none of it. He shoved your father into the hallway and closed the door behind him, not wanting you to witness their bickering and get upset even more. You were scared for him, but realistically you knew that Frank could take care of himself, especially against someone absolutely wasted and delirious.

Frank dragged your father outside by his arm, his grip enough to leave bruises in the shape of angry fingers, and he wasn’t stopping despite the drunk man’s feeble protests. He was fuming, absolutely livid that your father had had the audacity to show up and put your life in shambles all over again, and he couldn’t stop thinking about all the abuse you had endured. The man under his grip deserved nothing but the worst, and he would have been honored to be the one to give it to him.

Once outside, Frank pushed your father forward, causing him to stumble down onto the pavement. ”You’re a pathetic asshole, y’know that? You don’t deserve someone like her. You don’t deserve to call yourself a father. And if you come here again, I’mma make sure you regret even thinkin’ about it”, Frank seethed, standing above your father menacingly. He didn’t get up or argue back, so Frank considered his job done for now — but he was going to stay true to his word if he’d ever show his face again. The only reason he hadn’t killed him yet was knowing that you struggled with the idea, and he didn’t want to hurt you by hurting him.

He made his way back inside where you were a trembling mess, and instantly softer, Frank closed the door behind him and pulled you into his arms. ”It’s aight, darlin’. He’s gone”, he soothed you, his heart breaking when you burst into sobs against his firm chest. He felt sickened by the thought of what you had suffered through. As a father himself, he could not imagine ever doing that to his children, and he couldn’t fathom how broken a person had to be to resort to abuse the way your father had. It was the lowest of the low in his opinion, and he was almost hoping your father would give him further excuse to royally beat him up.

”I was so scared”, you confessed through cries, and with an understanding nod, Frank kissed your forehead and caressed your hair. He didn’t consider himself to be an expert at giving comfort, but for you, he would always pull out all the stops.

”I know, baby. It’s over now. He ain’t comin’ back, I promise, I’ll make sure of it. He can’t hurt you no more”, he swore, swallowing down his rage before withdrawing from you enough to look down into your eyes. ”I’mma help you file for a restraining order, yeah? And if he still won’t listen, I’ll break his fucking legs”, he guaranteed, entirely serious, but it still got a little laugh out of you.

”I’d like to see that”, you pointed out, and with a small smile, Frank swiped his thumb across your cheek in a comforting motion.

”There’s my girl. Hey, I’ll always keep you safe, you know that, right?” he reminded you, and slowly, you gave him a nod to confirm you trusted him.

”Thank you, Frankie. I’d be lost without you”, you sighed, hugging him again, and he enveloped you into his strong arms while resting his chin on the top of your head.

”You know I feel the same way about you, sweetheart”, he whispered, always so grateful to have you in his life. He found you so utterly perfect and beautiful inside out, he couldn’t believe anyone would ever hurt you. And even though your father had done exactly that, you were still so strong and kind, something he didn’t think he always was himself.

He admired the hell out of you, and he was going to do whatever it took to help you keep your peace of mind.

[yanderes-galore]

And maybe a Gojo concept? Or a oneshot of him with a darling that is like horrified of him because of his abilities? (Which makes them try to doge and not talk to him)

I can probably write down some ideas I have of him for a concept :) It'll probably be like some of the other stuff I did for him but at least it will get down my ideas for him properly!

Yandere! Satoru Gojo Concept

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Stalking, Manipulation, Kidnapping briefly mentioned, Violence, Murder mention/implied, Clingy behavior, Fear of loss, Forced companionship/relationship.

Gojo at first seems like he'd be a laid-back and casual yandere.

One who is silly with you and wants to make you laugh.

He wants you to smile and be happy... and he just seems like a good guy at first.

But underneath the surface? Gojo is a man plagued with traumatic experiences and losses... he may be the strongest but it's awfully lonely at the top.

He's a yandere fully capable of protecting his obsession.

In his eyes doing such a thing is making up for not being able to save others he's cared about, such as Geto and Riko.

Which is why I doubt Gojo would have many rivals as a yandere.

After all, he is the strongest Sorcerer.

The only competitor I can think of would be Sukuna... but thankfully those odds are low... right?

For the most part, Gojo really is happy and casual with you.

He is goofy and silly, acting really playful with you when he greets you.

He doesn't like showing the full extent of his emotions often.

There's times he gets overly worried about your safety, but he reassures himself with his abilities.

You'll never be as strong as him, he doesn't think anyone will be, which means he feels he has to be the one to protect you if no one else can.

Gojo can see you as a student, friend, or lover.

He acts very similar, although you could argue he'd be more flirty while romantic.

Gojo probably doesn't need to resort to kidnapping, but he could do it easily.

I say he doesn't have to because Gojo could already stalk you and protect you whenever he wants.

Gojo probably never leaves you alone for long.

Not when he's mastered his techniques, including teleportation, and his Infinity technique.

There aren't many who are going to mess with the guy who has Hollow Purple in his arsenal.

Not unless they have an ego or are trying to seal him.

Point is, you are probably the most protected person while simultaneously being the most smothered person in the world.

Gojo has a lot of unmentioned trauma, everything from the burden of being the strongest to the entirety of his arc with Geto and Riko.

He tries not to burden you with it, but the pain from said events still shows in his obsession.

After all, the man hates leaving you alone.

To the point he'll be childish and cling to you at times or just be a brat.

I also imagine Gojo is petty and childish when it comes to being jealous most of the time... he'd probably whine about it.

Gojo hates the idea of getting attached at first.

He fears he'll just lose you, so he would definitely try to suffocate his feelings.

Until he eventually snaps and realizes he doesn't have to hide such feelings.

He won't lose you, he just won't let it happen.

After all... he is the strongest, right?

Anyone who tried to hurt you is probably going to be "nuked from orbit" by his techniques, be the Curse or Curse User.

Normal humans will just be redirected by him.

Gojo adores his obsession and promises to them and himself that that he won't let anyone hurt them

You can bet when the Shibuya Arc happens he would have a panic attack in the Prisoner Realm until he gets out.

Then after that he'd just be worse?

I think the scariest part of Gojo is not his personality during his obsession.

It's the fact he's so damn strong.

Even Sukuna is strong but his personality lets you know what you're expecting.

Gojo? He's nice, caring, overprotective, but can obliterate anyone near you if he wanted to.

He can be manipulative but does try to listen to you.

Even if he did kidnap you then he'd make sure all your needs are met, you're comfortable, there's a seal somewhere in the room to prevent curses from coming in...

You could call him paranoid, but you can't entirely blame him.

He carries a lot on his back.

If he lost someone else he cared about again, Gojo may snap.

Do we really want to see a man as strong as that snap?

You soothe Gojo, but his obsession also curses him.

Gojo is a yandere who would sacrifice anything for his obsession.

As one of, if not the, strongest out there...

How much can a man like him sacrifice just to keep the one he adores the most safe?

Would it just be your happiness... or if he snaps... would it be the lives of those around you and himself? All in an effort to prove to you and the world that he's not only strong... but can protect you.

[gaypiratepropaganda]

Izzy's apology in the finale seems to have taken some people by surprise. During the break between seasons, I tried a few times to politely bring up the fact that Izzy was technically abusing Ed. Not because I wanted anyone to stop liking him (you can like a character who's doing abuse! it's not real. who cares), but because I was worried about the reaction when season two came out. I love this show very much and I know how tumblr can get. Most importantly, I love fucked up fictional relationships and cannot abide people making these two boring. So here we go. (I also love lists)

First. Emotional abuse can occur in intimate relationships, family relationships like father and son, or in the workplace (Ed/Izzy triple threat!). Second, it has to be an ongoing thing. Someone doing one of these things once is not abuse. Abuse is a pattern of cruel and frightening behavior in order to control the victim.

(Don't feel bad if you didn't notice this stuff! It's relatively subtle and we're kind of trained to ignore and forgive it, especially from characters like Izzy. I wasn't 100% sure I was right about this either until season two confirmed it. I think a lot of people don't even know what emotional abuse is, at least where I live.)

Below are some pretty solid warning signs (this said "criteria" before but I changed it to be more accurate) for emotional abuse, followed by examples:

•Monitoring and controlling a person’s behavior, such as who they spend time with or how they spend money.

One of Izzy's main motivations in season one was trying to force Ed to act more like his image of Blackbeard. To achieve that, he bullied, belittled, and threatened Ed. He attempted to kill Stede because Ed was spending too much time with him and he felt that Stede was a bad influence.

• Threats to a person’s safety, property, or loved ones

He tried to kill Stede (Ed's loved one) or get him killed several times. Once trying to get Ed to do it himself with the doggy heaven situation, once directly with the duel, and once by calling in the navy.

He didn't directly threaten Ed's safety until episode ten, but he did seem to have Ed convinced that the crew would kill him if Izzy wasn't there to protect him and then when Ed did things he didn't like, Izzy threatened to leave. It's indirect, but has the same result: Ed felt he was unsafe unless he did what Izzy wanted.

• Isolating a person from family, friends, and acquaintances

Izzy seemed to keep Ed isolated from the crew, act as a go-between, and control their perceptions of each other to a certain extent. In the first few episodes, Ed was always shown alone in his goth cabin with Izzy as his only contact. When he started to make new friends Izzy tried to make him kill them.

After Izzy was banished, he secretly sent Ed's ex in to manipulate him and get him away from his new community. Then he got them all arrested, culminating in the deal he made with the English that would have made Ed his prisoner. Not sure that was on purpose, but it was so fucked up I had to mention it.

The bit that really got me, for some reason, was when Frenchie asked after Ed and Izzy told the crew he was sick.

• Demeaning, shaming, or humiliating a person

Izzy is often shown berating Ed and yelling at him. The way Ed reacts suggests to me that he may be used to this kind of treatment from people in general, or from Izzy in particular. He never leaves or asks him to stop, he just takes it.

• Extreme jealousy, accusations, and paranoia

He was so jealous of Ed's relationship with Stede that he got the literal military involved. His explanation to for why Ed enjoys spending time with Stede was that he has "done something to [Ed's] brain." Like, what magic powers do you think he has, Izzy?

• Making acceptance or care conditional on a person’s choices

Izzy made it very clear that he would only support Ed if he conformed to the Blackbeard persona. He also seemed to have Ed convinced that there was no way he could survive without Izzy's support.

I just realized that if you subscribe to the headcanon that Izzy acts as a sort of caretaker to Ed (I do not) then all of this is way more fucked up.

• Constant criticism, ridicule, or teasing.

In season one he criticized everything Ed did, all his plans, even while telling him to come up with more plans. He ridiculed Ed and called him names pretty often: "twat, namby-pamby, insane." Even in season two when he's doing better, most of their interactions consist of Izzy teasing and making fun of Ed for being mopey or in love.

• Refusing to allow a person to spend time alone

I didn't think of this until now, but Izzy is often around when Ed thinks he's alone. He knows about things that happen in scenes he isn't in. Izzy's always sort of lurking, though? And he does it to everyone. So I'm not sure if we should count this one.

• Thwarting a person’s professional or personal goals

He's ok about piracy related goals, but as soon as Ed tried to do something other than that he got so weird about it. "This crew is so talented, why are we even being pirates?" is what got Izzy to threaten Ed. Which is interesting because he was fine with the retirement idea before, when he thought he'd get to be captain.

• Instilling feelings of self-doubt and worthlessness 

"insane unpleasant shell of a man merely posing as blackbeard." "I should have let the English kill you. This... whatever it is you've become is a fate worse than death."

• Gaslighting: making a person question their competence and even their basic perceptual experiences.

He called Ed insane and implied that the crew would mutiny if he wasn't there to stop them. This is clearly untrue, as we were already shown that his method of "massaging the crew" consisted of calling Ed half insane and pulling Fang's beard even though Fang hates that. The fact that he calls Ed insane more than once while at the same time trying to get him to act more insane seems like basic gaslighting to me. Then again, Izzy's definition of "insanity" may be like, depression, crying, showing emotions, loneliness, and enjoying softness.

[can't find a gif of this so just imagine Ed in the gravy basket with Hornigold saying "you're worried you're insane."]

Something that wasn't on this specific list but is generally considered part of emotional abuse is manipulation: the use of indirect tactics to change someone's thoughts, feelings, or behaviors in an attempt to influence them for personal gain.

I think Izzy often tries to be manipulative. He's not the greatest at it, but it's the thought that counts. He manages to be surprisingly successful through persistence and repetition.

He's got Ed convinced from the first time we see them that he is useless as a captain without Izzy. That's why Ed feels like he needs him. He tells him that the only thing standing between Ed and a crew constantly on the brink of mutiny is Izzy. Then he tells him that he will leave if he can't live up to his expectations.

He has a pattern of lying to Ed or not telling him the whole truth. He threatens him directly and indirectly in an attempt to influence him and control his behavior. He wants power, whether he gets it by becoming a captain when Ed retires or by making sure Ed remains powerful by any means necessary.

this is what he was apologizing for, along with the years of being terrible to Ed before Stede came into the picture. I never expected him to admit it so clearly like that. He fed Ed's "darkness," poked at his trauma for so long because he needed Blackbeard. It was something they did together, and he enjoyed Blackbeard's dominance and cruelty.

Of course there are other things that can be part of this kind of abuse, like infantilization, silence, and harassment. There are more examples of abusive behavior from Izzy at the start of season two, especially in the scene where Ed's asking Izzy to kill him. but I am not ready to get into that right now.

Anyway, Ed and Izzy's storylines in season two only make sense to me with this in mind. Ed is recovering from not only the suicide attempts but also this fucked up situation he was in, whether he realizes it or not. Izzy learns to stop being such a shitboy and admits he was wrong. ~growth~

if you interpret their relationship differently that's obviously fine. but I think this is the most interesting interpretation, as well as what was intended. It's no fun for me when people make them both equally awful to each other. I like it better as it is in the show: Ed fighting back against Izzy's emotional abuse with physical violence, which only ends up traumatizing him further. It's such a unique and fascinating story.

[t0rturedangel]

Ohhh since you're writing for him could you write something about evil morty being jealous/possessive with the reader (in a romantic relationship) please and thank you!

𝟎𝟎𝟏. 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘴 [ 𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘷𝘦𝘳. ]

⠀⠀⠀: ᯓ 𝟎𝟎𝟐.⠀ EVIL MORTY SMITH X READER

› 〉 𝟎𝟎𝟑. SYNOPSIS, Evil Morty is one hell of a bf, his jealousy and possesiveness is crazy.

› 〉 𝟎𝟎𝟒. WARNINGS, Evil Morty, maybe a bit ooc, threats / threats of violence, ect

› 〉 𝟎𝟎𝟓. AUTHOR'S NOTES, Happy to do another rick and morty request! I hope this one is good- i'm not too good when it comes to writing for characters like him but I'll try! ALSO SOME WORDS MIGHT BE SPELT WRONG

🜸 ㅤ▎ㅤ▍ㅤUnlike RICK, EVIL MORTY is well aware that he can get jealous and possesive over you- in fact most Morties are aware of that fact, and well you cant exactly blame them, love is something they dont get often, and when they do it doesn't last.

🜸 ㅤ▎ㅤ▍ㅤSo it is no surprise that when you began to date EVIL MORTY, he was quick to become jealous and bitter to all other morties (even more than he already is). After all, now that your his significant other, others may be prone to want to go after you which is something that will bother EVIL MORTY.

🜸 ㅤ▎ㅤ▍ㅤThis especially happens during his presidental run, now that he's making himself and, ultimately, you public- many would be bound to try and get you away from him for various reasons. Though don't worry too much, EVIL MORTY has it all sorted- pull a few strings and the rouge morties that tried to even interact with you will be gone, like they never exsisted.

"Morty.." you called out, staring at your boyfriend who was currently sifting through various files, persumebly all to do with the votes and campaign as he was running for president in the citadel- something you heavily encouraged because it would be good to have a new, democraticly elected, leader for the citadel and hey, if morty needed any help or things got to stressful you'd be able to help (I mean how hard can it be?). "Yeah [name]?" He lifted his head up, staring at you with a quirked brow, clearly wanting you to continue though under his gaze you felt slightly uncomfortable- jeez when did your boyfriend become so damn scary? "Do you know what happened to the two Morties that jumped me the other day? I was searching for them coz I found out they were trying to make bootleg portal fluid but they were gone" you picked at the skin around your nails, avoiding your Morty's gaze nervously though your attention was quickly brought back to him when he sighed "Don't worry about them [name], they've been dealt with..... now come on- can you help me with these papers" he smiled at you, gesturing to the seat next to him which you quickly sat down on. You can only assume that Morty sent the cops after them, and that they're now in prison.

🜸 ㅤ▎ㅤ▍ㅤLet's say you're evil with him, meaning that you agree with what he does, and so when you met c-137 Rick and Morty you too pretened to be normal until you didn't- you were the first person the two were introduced to as you sat with them to eat food before evil morty appeared. Both of you then confessing to the fact that you hated ricks and the citadel.

🜸 ㅤ▎ㅤ▍ㅤIf you were 'evil' like him, then it would be perfect- because then he would be able to leave everything behind with you! Which is brilliant coz that means it will be just the two of you together, no one else trying to disturb your relationship (until season seven episode five).

🜸 ㅤ▎ㅤ▍ㅤOverall, EVIL MORTY is a little extreme when it comes to his jealousy- he doesn't like being jealous so he takes care of the problems quickly and swiftly, the quicker the better.