#see also: cat sexism

[istherewifiinhell]

V

likeeeeee im no scientist hoss but seems to me any data we can gather on innate or median sex differences is completey kaput until we stop. BABY SLOPE SEXISM

[judas-isariot]

Let me tell you a story, I do blind test event every month at the club and I put music who end up in the top 100 of the country so it ain't to obscur.

It is not uncommon people tell me "You should not play this person he/she should be cancel" and you would tell me they are right except:

I was ask way more often to cancel Britney Spear (because she shave her hair) or Doja cat (Because she is sometime mean on social media)

Then I was ask to cancel Noir désir (kill his wife and lies about it for YEARS) or Lomepal (Has rape a 14 years old).

[scrappedtogether]

one of your posts made me remember that I used to be obsessed with riva ras regas when I was a kid because i had a crush on rufus lol

This is so valid, Anon!!! I also had a pretty big crush on him when I was a kid. I think it was a combination of his voice, his stage presence, and how sweet he was with his cat. 😂 He’s for sure one of the reasons I love Riva Ras Regas so much! You’re not alone at all, Anon!

[snarltoothed]

proud girlcat mommy for 16 years now!!!

ou they doing cat misogyny on tiktok now

[lesbiansanemi]

I hate my roommate’s cat more and more with every passing day

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

In response to the Mile High Job post, I hate that Parker implies that poor flight attendant slept her way to a promotion/better shift. Her day is super weird but her cat is fine and her life is saved. That rumor, however, might stick and that didn't really feel like Leverage to me.

Agreed!

The thing with Leverage is that it's a show from the late 2000s; it feels contemporary, but actually it is a bit dated. And, like all shows, it had some problematic elements, which get a bit more Obviously Problematic as time goes by (I am just waiting for someone to write a lengthy call-out post in 5 years' time and for the Discourse to start.) For example, Tumblr loves to declare that Leverage has a "canon" throuple, but if anyone read that and then watched the show they would be profoundly disappointed - while it's a fantastic ship with a great many shippy instances, Elliot has a lot of onscreen No Homo moments, and frequently is shown sleeping with random women (I personally read him as aromantic). Similarly, there are two big relationships in that show: Nate/Sophie, and Parker/Hardison. And we all wax lyrical about the brilliance of Parker/Hardison and how healthy it is, and for good reason; but we gloss over how unbearably "I hate my wife/father I cannot click the book" Boomer humour Nate/Sophie is.

(He literally calls her a shrew in one episode. She throws a tantrum and sulks if he doesn't remember the exact details of how/where they met. She's stereotypically 'romantic' and he's stereotypically 'cynical' and she has to Save Him From Himself, and he self-deprecatingly says he should just know when to stop arguing because she's always right. Like... it is a grubby and uncomfortable dynamic; but, it's also aimed at a different segment of the audience that is older than me, and that's okay, actually. It just means I don't much care for the ship myself.)

Anyway, this is one other such instance. Clearly someone in the writers' room thought that was a funny joke, and not enough people disagreed, and so in it went. What's nice is that Sandi McCree, who plays the other flight attendant that stays on the plane, actually kind of saves that joke for me with her performance. When Parker first boards and declares that her co-worker is not coming in, McCree looks disgruntled at the sudden change to her staff list when she wasn't informed; she's annoyed at management. Then Parker makes the sleeping-with-pilots comment, and McCree looks disgusted and furious -

An expression she then pulls at Parker every time she sees her for the rest of the episode, even when Parker is technically not doing anything particularly weird. It's not necessarily intentional on McCree's part (Parker IS very weird in this episode, so it very much can be a response to that), but to me it means you can read it as "This woman is absolutely furious at the lateral sexism of this white girl because We Love And Support Each Other On This Plane." So, for me, between that and the aforementioned revelations of the day (the plane was brought down by the domestic terrorists of a Fortune 500 company, but saved by... a few unexplained Official People who snuck aboard??? And the other flight attendant was made to miss the plane after all under mysterious circumstances and was not promoted??? What???), I don't think Sandi McCree's character wouldn't put those pieces together.

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Nine: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink (Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, nude vids/pics, rape mentioned (somnophilia), gen. sexual content, Panic/Anxiety Attack, forced nudity [Be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin/Ghost having thoughts?? Unselfish ones?? Luke can’t stop roasting/sassing you [diary entries from Ani] [texting/letters/notes]extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: August 10th

I think enough time has passed. I think you’re ready to see Ghost again.

I thought it would take longer for you to recover, but as always, the little fawn in you is curious as ever. Quick to forget fear and ready for the newest challenge.

You’ve responded so well to everything. I’m very proud of you.

I’ve been keeping up with my visits, still cleaning, still watching, still following and protecting.

Now that you know of Ghost, I’ve started completing my tasks. I don’t have to leave anything halfway finished, the dishes are done everyday along with the vacuuming and dusting. I even mop twice a week.

And change the cat litter, which might I add, is disgusting. (Worth it though because I love that little menace.)

I thought for sure you’d run and tell me that you didn’t think the alarms I installed weren’t working, but you didn’t, you just repeatedly tested them yourself. It was very loud, very annoying and I know you could hear the woman down the hall banging her pots and pans together to fight back with her own noise. You didn’t care though, you just wanted to make sure the alarms worked.

They do work, I wouldn’t have installed fake ones, that would be stupid. I’m all for keeping you safe so… what’s one more safety measure?

I just know that they can also be very easily disarmed. Even through the inch and a half thick wooden door to your apartment. A piece of sheet metal (credit card sized) and my handy dandy super strength magnet works like a charm.

You’re such an odd bird. You haven’t told anyone, I don’t think it’s really even crossed your mind too much either. You’ve begun to pretend the cameras aren’t even there. You just go about your normal day to day life and occasionally squint and stare at random objects.

You never actually go check them out though. Is it all for show? I think it might be.

I think you like being watched. I bet it makes you feel safe doesn’t it? Knowing I’m always there for you?

——————————————————————————

You know what the best part of all this is?

Ghost will let me love you in the way that is natural and normal to me. I just hope that you’ll be willing to accept that we are one in the same.

Ghost can comfortably do all the things that I’ve been afraid to. I didn’t want to scare you, but it really was difficult not to leave you things. I’m so glad that you brought that up in your list of questions because it gave me the opportunity to act on it without you flipping out.

Do you like them? I love leaving things for you. Especially little notes.

Ghost has been kind enough to stay out of your way when I’m around, but I can resist making you squirm occasionally. Remember when I left you a note, KNOWING I’d be coming home with you later that day?

Oh babe. It was so oddly intoxicating to see the way you reacted when I got back home and pulled up the footage. You snatched up that slip of paper didn’t read it and didn’t toss it in the trash, didn’t put it in your pocket.

You shoved it in your mouth so I wouldn’t see it. Freak.

I saw it all chewed up and gross in the bathroom trash. You didn’t read it. I know you didn’t. So I’ll have to get alittle more creative.

Don’t ignore me.

DATE

August 13th

For the third morning in a row you woke up to a text from your own cellphone number.

‘Sleep well deer?’

Idiot. Can’t even spell. So finally on this third day, you sent a text back and corrected him.

‘Dear*’

Immediately a response buzzed through.

‘No.’

No? What does he mean no?

‘Little doe. My deer. 🦌’

Oh great, so stalkers use emojis and he’s given you a nickname. How cute.

You laid back in your bed and tossed your phone aside, hands covering your face as you rubbed the sleep away.

The longer this went on, the more insane you felt. This wasn’t normal, of course it’s not normal. So why are you allowing it?

You could ask yourself that a million times and you’d never find an answer.

You could throw away every flower he brought you and they’d still keep coming. You could burn every piece of paper in the city and chew every pen until it’s broken beyond repair and he would still find a way to write you a note.

You could swallow every word he writes, throw it up, flush it, whatever. It’s just going to pop back up. Gross and soggy with an amendment attached and in your panty drawer.

You thought maybe it was an important one. So you read it. Quickly discovered it was semi-important, Ghost just wanted to remind you that he loved you and he was proud of you for continuing to drink your tea even though you knew it was drugged. Once you’re out of it, he’s going to set the pills out next to your birth control. So he ‘doesn’t have to fool with measurements anymore’.

The addendum to the note was tucked inside the original:

‘Good girls swallow.’

You could ignore the trinkets, the jewelry or the pretty stones and shells. But he would just move them to a different spot and force you to eventually set it in your jewelry box along with all the others.

He’s not been bold enough to come around with Anakin in your home. The nights that Anakin sleeps over, there are no gifts, no cleaning done. No disturbances.

But Anakin doesn’t deter him completely.

He’s left you one note at Anakin’s apartment, the first time you’d slept away from your own home in ages. Ghost had the audacity to slip a note into the pocket of your shorts while you slept in the same bed as Anakin in his apartment.

It didn’t say anything, no words, just a heart in red ink. Like he just wanted to remind you that he was there and you were his whether you wanted to be or not. Anakin or no Anakin, Ghost didn’t care.

It’s been horrible lying… omitting the truth to Anakin. Sometimes you feel like blurting it out, but something always stops you. Morbid curiosity maybe. Or maybe you just like the thrill of it, that little shiver of adrenaline you get every time he makes himself known.

It would all stop if you told Anakin. Neither would quit until he’d hunted the other man down and gotten rid of him.

They’d kill each other.

——————————————————————————

Anakin worked tonight, so you had plans to meet up with Luke (sans his pet leech) for a late evening dinner. As much as you loved Han and appreciated everything he did for Luke, how happy he made him, you really just wanted some time alone with your best friend.

So you were thrilled to receive a text around 1:00pm from Luke:

‘Don’t be late. I’m dying to catch up babe.’

You quickly opened the message but before you finished typing, a voice message popped up in your notifications, sent from your number.

You abandoned the chat with Luke and opted to open the voice message instead.

‘I’m coming home.’ then a long pause, ‘have fun with Lukey.’

That scratchy filtered voice; you’d yet to hear it over the phone and this being the first time… it sent you right back to the very first time you watched Scream. That icy chill that snuck up the back of your neck, the tightening of your chest… you felt it now, just not because of fear.

You felt it because you were excited.

——————————————————————————

“Okay, seriously what do you keep looking at?” Luke prodded, snatching your phone and sliding it into his jacket pocket.

“Nothing it’s just-“

“My phone is on ‘do no disturb’, because I have missed my buddy, my pal, my best friend.” He paused, his pointer finger jabbing the table between your plate and his.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. “I haven’t even unlocked it! It’s just sitting there.”

“True, but the obnoxious tapping to check whatever it is you’re hoping for is getting annoying.” Honesty, brutal or not, was Luke’s love language.

“Fine. I’m sorry, I’ll put it in my pocket.” You agreed, holding your hand out palm up.

“No ma’am. This is mine until the check comes.” His answer was definitive, no room for argument there. “What’s so important anyway? I know Anakin is at work.”

“It’s just work stuff.” You huffed.

“Oh? What’s so pressing at the diner?” He scoffed, “got a big shipment of ketchup coming in? Are you ‘on call’?”

“Luke.” You rolled your eyes at his jab. “No and yes. I am ‘on call’ actually. Sara’s son has been sick.’

Not a total lie, he has been sick. Poor guy. But her husband was home with him and he was being well looked after.

“Okay? That’s your problem how?”

“God you’re so negative sometimes.” You sighed. “Her babysitter hates vomit. If he throws up Sara will have to go home.”

“Ew.” He scrunched up his nose. “I’m eating.”

“Okay? That’s my problem how?” You said mockingly.

“Really? Like for real that’s why you keep checking your phone?”

“Yes really.” Giving him a look that screamed duh’. “Her baby sitter is the 14 year old girl that lives next door to her. Do you really suggest leaving a 14 year old in charge of a vomiting 2 year old? When that 14 year old is disgusted by puke? That’s a recipe for disaster.”

It would be a disaster, her sitter is 14. She just happens to be on vacation with her mother right now. Hence the temporary stay at home husband.

“Okay, first of all, 14? Isn’t that alittle young?”

“No? I started babysitting when I was 12.” You shrugged.

“Fine.” Luke sighed. “Here.”

He slid your phone back to you and propped his chin up on his fist. Watching you check it one last time before turning on the sound and putting it in your back pocket.

——————————————————————————

‘I’m walking home now!’

You shot off the text to Anakin after saying your goodbye to Luke at the restaurant. You’d refused his offer to walk you home, you didn’t want him anywhere near your apartment building knowing that Ghost would be there.

Six minutes later he replied:

‘Good girl.🥰 let me know when you get there safe.’

‘Will do💕’

And you did, the moment you stood outside your apartment door.

‘Made it! See you tomorrow💕’

You waited in the hall to receive his response. You didn’t know what would be waiting for you on the other side of this door, and you didn’t want to chance it.

‘Perfect. Sweet dreams doll!’

Your hand poised at the door knob, you inserted your key to discover your door was already unlocked. You very slowly opened the door, but saw no one in your kitchen or living room.

But your bedroom door was closed, boogie hadn’t meowed as loudly as possible and sprinted to you, demanding to be fed. He did say that they were good friends. So they both must be in your room.

Would it be wise to lock your door? The few precious seconds leaving it unlocked would save if you needed to run… no, no. Just lock it. Doorknob. Deadbolt. Chain.

‘Just stay calm’

You kicked off your shoes and tossed your bag to the floor, walking quietly across the carpeted living room to pause in front of your bedroom. A soft yellow glow shone beneath the door, your lamp must be on. You could hear your tv playing something, not quite sure what it was, but it had the all too familiar cadence of a horror flick.

The audacity of this man astounded you.

When you pushed open the door, he was laying in your bed, shoes off, legs crossed at the ankles, propped against the headboard, arms behind his head. He looked like he belonged there. As big a contrast as it was… your soft, pink, feminine room and him. All black, the mask. He just looked so comfortable.

Your cat, the little traitor, was curled up on his chest. It was kind of sweet. How could such an inherently terrifying scenario seem so normal?

Ever so casually he tilted his head toward you, his right hand raising from its relaxed position to lazily give you gloved finger waggle for a wave.

“Have fun?” The filtered voice drifted over to you.

“Yes.” You answered quietly, glued to the spot.

“Are you just going to stand there?” He laughed. “I would come pick you up, but it’s illegal to move a sleeping cat.” He gestured to boogie who had still not moved from her human pillow.

You couldn’t help but laugh, eyebrows raised in an expression of awe filled shock. This was too weird. Too normal. Too scarily alluring.

Yet you found yourself at the edge of the bed, not really knowing how you got there to begin with.

“Sat you some pajamas out.” He said dismissively, the mask fixed onto the tv screen. “Figured you’d wanna change.”

“Huh.” You snorted, seeing that he had.

You expected to see one of your lacy lingerie sets. But he’d chosen something much more modest that you would’ve ever imagined. Loose, thin, stretchy fabric pajama pants, the matching cropped tank top, and fuzzy socks.

“Um. Thanks?” You said awkwardly, picking them up and turning on your heels to change in the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He chuckled.

“To the bathroom?” You scoffed, looking over your shoulder at him.

“You can change in here.” He wasn’t offering. He was telling you.

“No way.” You shook your head. “No I’m not-“

“C’mon little doe.” The filtered voice left little room for change in tone, but you could tell from his body language that it was a challenge.

“Ghost. No! I have Anakin I don’t-.”

He laughed. “I don’t care.”

“Well I do.”

“Mmm… not enough. You’re letting me be here. You didn’t tell him. You didn’t mention me to anyone at all actually.” He pointed out.

“Well that’s not-“

“Hush.” He snapped, making you stall. “I’ve seen that pretty little body of yours plenty of times. What’s one more?”

“But-“ your face was so red hot that you could feel the heat spreading down your neck.

“What? I’m not gonna get up.” He said plainly. “I’m comfy right here where I can watch you.”

“I don’t… this isn’t right.”

“Don’t pull that bullshit with me.” He scoffed. “Nothing about this is ‘right’. But you’re letting it happen, yeah?” He said and got just a nod from you in response.

“That’s it.” He moved his arm to point two fingers at you, “get on with it sweetheart. I wanna see my girl.”

“I’m not your-“

“You were mine first.” He snapped.

“Well, that’s not very fair.” Your voice shaking. “I didn’t even know you were…. I didn’t know about you!”

“That might be true.” He growled, “but it’s your fault for being so ignorant.”

“I-I don’t…” you felt like you were on the verge of a tantrum. This man was outrageous, coming into your home uninvited, being a fucking perv, acting like he owns the place, and now he’s calling you ignorant?

“Do you realize how stupid it is for you to argue with me about the morality of all this?” He asked, going back to his former relaxed state.

“You. Are allowing me to be here. You had all day to call the cops if you wanted to. But you didn’t.” That smug little bastard laughed. “I’ve been here for over two hours. You knew I’d be here when you got back.”

“That’s not-“

“I’m not finished.” He held up a finger and silenced you. “You’re mine. You’ve been mine and you will continue to be mine.”

“I don’t care that you are pretending to be appalled by the situation you are in.” His voice was even and unyielding, he was so confident in his statements.

“You know why I don’t care?” He asked, tilting his head toward you condescension oozing from every pore.

“Why?” You squeaked.

“Because I know, without a doubt, that if I were to stick my hand down your pretty pink panties; you’d be wet right now.”

How did he know what color your underwear is? Better question: why is that the first thing you thought of when there were much more pressing matters at hand?

“That’s not true.” Your voice sounded hollow.

“It’s not?” He laughed. “Show me then.”

“What?” You whispered, eyes bugging out of your head.

“Do it. Prove to me that you’re not soaked.” He snickered.

“That’s not fair you can’t just-“

“You’re not running are you? You haven’t said no, you haven’t come over here and smacked me.” He interrupted.

You stood there with your jaw dropped, you needed a dustpan and broom to sweep up your shattered facade of denial. How could you dispute that?

“Fine!” You shouted. “Fine. I’ll just change in here.”

“Don’t raise your voice at me.” He growled. “You’re awfully bold for a spoiled brat.”

“I am not a-“

“When will you stop disagreeing with me?” He laughed. “You know it’s true. I’ve spoiled you so much that you’ve rotted to your core. You weren’t always a brat, but you are now. You like being spoiled don’t you? Being taken care of, being treated like a princess?”

“Your little boyfriend does the same thing doesn’t he?” He snickered. “Spoiled. Brat.”

“You’re just a little girl who needs a man to hold her hand.”

“You’re being mean.” You whispered, your voice breaking.

“The truth is hard to hear isn’t it little doe?” He said, his voice going back to its nonchalant, flat tone.

You couldn’t argue. He’d been right about everything and it’s difficult to argue with someone who throws fact after fact at you like he’s doing. So you took a deep breath and closed your bedroom door.

“Atta girl.” He nodded. “Show me.”

So you did, you turned around and began undressing, you could feel his eyes on you, soaking up the display you were crafting for him.

“Turn around.” His voice alittle quieter, the voice box crackling.

Slowly you complied, swallowing your fear and embarrassment. You kept your eyes closed, it made you feel the slightest bit better, I’m the way a kid would think ‘I can’t see you so you can’t see me’.

“Gorgeous.” He breathed out.

Behind your eyelids you swear you noticed a change in lighting, briefly, but enough to take note of. Your eyes snapped open and saw him holding up his phone.

He’d taken a picture of you.

“Ghost, no! Delete that right now!” You squealed, quickly getting dressed in your fresh pajamas.

“Cool it.” He waved you off. “Just gonna add it to my special folder just for you. See?” He turned his screen toward you and you inched forward.

He wasn’t lying. He scrolled through over one hundred images and videos, some of you in public, some nude, some of you sleeping. All in a folder titled ‘little doe’.

“These are for me.” He said simply. “They’re not going anywhere so don’t worry about that.”

“But these…” he turned the screen back to himself and tapped twice, scrolled and then tapped again before flipping it around.

The images in front of you made you nauseous.

You, spread legs and wet cunt, up close.

You with your hand being held up by Ghost, your fingers buried deeply between your folds.

A short video of your pussy being lovingly stroking by a leather glove. Another of one long digit pumping into you slowly.

A picture of your lips wrapped around his cock.

“S-so you did… you did touch me?” You recoiled.

“No.” He said flatly, before you could protest he laughed.

“You loved it.” He snickered. “Never let you cum. I wanted you to be needy for me.”

“Until… until I saw you.” You whispered.

“Mhm, that’s right.” He nodded. “Took care of your poor swollen pussy properly that time.” He cooed, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“You’re sick.” You breathed out. “That’s disgusting… you-“

“Call the cops.” He said gesturing to your phone laying on the bed.

“What?”

“You heard me. Call ‘em.” He snorted. “If I’m so sick and disgusting and you’re soooo horrified by my actions; call the cops. I’ll wait right here.”

“Are you gonna send those to Anakin?” Your voice wobbled as you ignored his challenge. You both knew you wouldn’t call.

“Not if you’re good.”

“Are you gonna hurt him?” You asked quietly.

“Now why would I do a thing like that?” He scoffed. “I want you all to myself, but I want you to choose me. I’m not gonna go all Dexter on your boyfriend.”

“You promise?” You sniffled. “Swear it?”

“Pinky swear.” He said confidently, holding out his hand with his little finger raised.

For some reason you took it. You believed him. He hadn’t gotten up and forced you to do anything, he stayed right there the whole time. He had yet to share those pictures with Anakin. A million other twisted reasons you’d started to accept that this was becoming a new normal. A thousand other things that pushed you to believe him.

He’d only bruised your self image with his cold, hard truths about you. That’s not a crime. That’s a reality check.

“Good choice little doe!” You could practically hear the beaming smile on his face behind the plastic mask.

“Now come up here.” He patted the spot next to him. “I don’t like seeing you upset, I’m sorry.”

He was apologizing? He was apologizing.

“You’re sorry?” You repeated in shock.

“Of course I’m sorry. You’re on the verge of tears and I’ve caused it.” He said, holding out his hand palm up for you to take.

“I’m not a monster.”

You hesitated before accepting his hand and climbing into bed beside him. You sat a safe distance from him at first but he lolled his head to the side in what you assumed was a dramatic eye roll and tugged you to his side in a one armed swoop.

The action had you frozen. This was it. He was gonna hurt you. You’d been naive and stupid and he was going to violate you, this time while you were conscious, you’d remember it this time.

“Relax.” He soothed, tucking you comfortably against his side, his bicep behind your head as a pillow and his gloved hand on your side in a way that was almost comforting. “I mean it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You whispered, what the fuck is happening?

“No, it’s not okay. I could’ve been more gentle with my words.” His opposite hand rubbing his knuckles across your cheek lovingly.

You were quiet for a moment, debating on the course of action you should take. You were in fact very much allowing this to occur. Would it be so horrible to try and enjoy it? He was warm. He smelled nice and familiar, the cologne… you must have a subtle memory of it from all the times he’d been here while you slept. He was comfortable. He was surprisingly kind.

What’s the worst that could happen?

“Before you get comfy.” He spoke quietly, the voice box crackling from his low voice, “you didn’t take your pill.”

“Oh yeah you’re right.” You moved to get up, pink cheeked because once again he proved that you were in fact helpless without him.

“Don’t get up, I have it right here.” He chuckled, reaching over to the nightstand and handing you the pill packet and a thermos. “Tea.”

“Huh.” You stared at him. Gods this was so fucking weird. “Well… wow okay.” You huffed out a laugh and took your medicine with a sip of your tea.

“Tastes different.” You said, handing the packet back to him.

“Mhm. Yeah I poisoned it.” He said nonchalantly, making you almost choked on your second sip.

“You what?” You shrieked, waking up the cat who bolted from his lap.

“Aw look what you did,” he groaned gesturing to the empty space with a few stray cat hairs.

“You- are you serious?” You started to almost hyperventilate. “Should I make myself throw up?”

Why are you asked the man who poisoned you that? Like he’d tell you.

“No, that would be a waste of good tea.” He snorted. “I put cinnamon in it you idiot.”

“What?”

“Cinnamon.” He repeated. “It’s just cinnamon. It was a joke.”

“That’s not fucking funny!” You shouted, smacking his shoulder.

“Ive already told you once.” His hand shot out and grabbed your jaw firmly. “Do not. Raise. Your voice. At me.” He growled.

“I believe you meant to say ‘ha-ha, ghost that was funny. you got me!’” He snickered and released your jaw, soothing you with his hand now gently raking through your hair.

You were stunned. Absolutely shook by his quick turnaround, this should be terrifying. This man can be so gentle one moment and the next he’s speaking to you like he’s ordering you to lay down at the guillotine. It wasn’t terrifying in the right way. Not the type of fear you should be feeling at his unpredictable actions.

You weren’t scared of him at all. But yourself? Yes. Who is this girl? Why is she… why do you like this? It’s scary because you’re not scared. It’s horrifying because you want more. It’s terrifying because you’re morbidly curious about what he’d do if you acted out again.

You shook your head and picked your jaw off the floor, deciding the best course of action was to just tuck yourself back under his arm and watch whatever movie he had paused when you entered the room.

Might as well. You’ve already come this far.

Date

August 14th

When you woke up the next morning Ghost was gone. Your home was devoid of any trace of him, no note, no gift, no messages. Nothing.

He had hardly moved while you sat with him, the only consistent movement was the gentle twist and twirl of one long lock of your hair around his finger. It was repetitive and soothing, just like the calming rise and fall of his chest.

How could he be so calm? So off guard?

You could’ve turned on him at any moment. Ripped off his mask and saw who he was, grabbed your lamp and wacked him with it. Punched him in the nuts and ran.

But, to be fair, he could’ve done the same to you. Yet you stayed there, albeit anxious and on high alert for majority of the time spent with him. Despite the fact that you knew he carried a weapon, even though you were well aware of what he’d been doing to you all this time, even after he’d manhandled your face when you smarted off to him.

It must be a twisted form of mutual trust.

Or you might just be delusional.

Either way, it was wrong and you knew that. You intentionally got naked in front of another man, while he laid on the bed your boyfriend so sweetly makes love to you in. You fell asleep in the arms of this man. Not just *any* other man, the one who has been stalking you relentlessly for months.

You’ve cheated on Anakin. If he knew, it would crush him. It would break apart his big, soft, velveteen heart. Your betrayal would rip a hole right through the middle and slice up the fabric so badly it couldn’t be sewn back up without ending up smaller, weaker, and deformed.

What could you do? Was there anything to do? Telling him to his face… the thought of it soured your stomach so badly you thought you might form an ulcer.

Telling Ghost to fuck off and leave you alone wasn’t an option either. No matter what you did, the precautions you put in place; he would find you. Not only would he find you, but he wouldn’t allow Anakin the privilege of breathing anymore.

You couldn’t tell Luke. He’d lecture you until your ears bled while he dragged you to the nearest police station. Then Luke would be in danger, Anakin would know, and Ghost would still be your problem. And if Luke didn’t believe you, he’d ship you off to the long term care loony bin.

Your sister? Of course you couldn’t tell her either. She has her own family. Ghost already knows where she lives, he’s told you so.

He knows everything about you. Your family tree, your friends list, your schedule, your medical information, banking account, he has complete access to your home, your phone…

You are a canary in a cage and he is a cat pawing at you through the metal bars.

It’s only a matter of time before one of those claws nicks you. A feather or two might come loose, open up a weak spot on your frail body. The next swipe might draw blood, maybe it won’t. Or maybe he’ll be lucky enough to bat you to the bottom of the cage.

It’s hard enough to escape when there’s someone always watching. When there’s a lock on the door. But to attempt to flee with broken wings? You couldn’t hobble your way to safety anyway. Bird cages don’t have doors at the bottom, they’re halfway up. They don’t have horizontal bars. You can’t climb.

You are stuck.

It’s up to you if you want to be trapped there intact, or if you’d rather wallow at the bottom in pain.

——————————————————————————

Maybe you should just break up with Anakin.

Ghost said he wouldn’t hurt him, but how long will that last? How long until he gets tired of waiting? Should you ask Ghost again? Just to make sure? Make him sign a fucking contract?

Maybe it would be best if-

“Sweetheart?” Anakin whispered softly, waving his hand in front of your face. “What’s going on? I’ve been standing here for almost a minute.”

Anakin was here.

“What?” You whispered back, suddenly overwhelmingly aware of your surroundings.

The diner. You were at The Bluebird. You were working. A glance to the clock told you that you’d been here for over two hours, a quick scan of the tables and the counter proved that you hadn’t neglected any customers. Your notepad and pen were in your hand, there was money in the tip jar.

Anakin was here.

“Hey, c’mere.” His voice soft and concerned.

He gently took the pad and pen from your hands, put an arm around your shoulder and held your hand as he led you through the kitchen. Not an uncommon occurrence, Anakin was well known to everyone at the Bluebird due to his frequent visits to see you. He often walked with you out through the kitchen to sit on the curb with you while you took a break and he smoked a cigarette.

“Vigo, I’m taking her out back.” He said quietly, speaking to the dishwasher.

“I was about to call you man.” He spoke back in a hushed voice. “She’s been actin’ like that since she got here.”

“Yeah? Well next time don’t wait to call.” Anakin grumbled, scowling at your coworker.

The heat of the afternoon sun soothed over your skin, making you painfully aware of the cold sweat lacing the back of your neck. You blinked and it felt like it was the first time you’d closed your eyes in hours. Your mouth was dry, your teeth felt cold and your brain might’ve been better described as soup.

Anakin sat down on the curb and pulled you down with him. Placing you sideways between his legs, your arms immediately threw themselves around his neck and you curled up into him.

“Jesus baby.” He whispered, the wind getting knocked out of him at your aggressive tackle.

“An-” You started to sob before you even finished his name.

“W-what’s wrong?” You could feel his heart beat quicken beneath you, hear it pounding in his chest. He was feeling real, true panic.

“Hey, hey talk to me. Breathe.” He tried to soothe you by petting your hair, rocking you gently, kissing your forehead… anything, anything he could think of and nothing was working.

You were sobbing so loudly that Anakin was glad there wasn’t a back parking lot. If someone wanted to see where this horrible wailing was coming from they’d have to walk all the way around back, thankfully most people didn’t care enough to do such a thing.

Unfortunately though, your coworkers did care.

The back door creaked open and you could hardly hear the conversation over your own tears.

“Anakin!” Vigo whisper shouted. “What the fuck did you do to her?”

“What do you mean? I didn’t do this!” His voice angrily gritting through his teeth. “What happened today?”

“Nothin’ man! I dunno!” Vigo squeaked raising up his hands in surrender. “She just clocked in like that, no cryin’ though. She’s hardly said a word.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t call me!” Anakin grunted, “I’m her emergency contact for a reason you idiot.”

“Hey? Don’t get mad at me!” Vigo scoffed. “I figured she was in a funk because of you, why would I call if I thought it was boyfriend troubles?”

“Jesus- did you even ask her?”

“What?”

“Oh my fuckin’-“ Anakin took a breath to regulate himself, one arm firmly holding you while the other was wildly gesturing as he spoke. “Did you ask her what was wrong?”

“No?”

“Are you stupid? God just fuck- go back inside before you end up crying on the ground too.” He snapped at him, huffing as the back door shut behind a quickly retreating Vigo.

“Sorry baby, I’m sorry,” He whispered, petting your head and squeezing you tightly. “I’m sorry, that probably didn’t help did it?”

“N-not really.” You hiccuped out a laugh.

“She speaks.” He gasped, “want me to yell at him some more? I’ll do it just say the word-“

“Anakin-“ you snorted, wiping your eyes and nose on his shirt. “Aw shit sorry.”

“You think I’m worried about alittle snot?” He scoffed, “Sweetheart, I’d lick it out of your nose like a cow if you’d let me. C’mere I’ll prove it.”

He stuck out his tongue and flicked it at you, chasing your face as you squirmed away from him. Despite to horrible ache in your lungs and the scratchy feeling in your throat, Anakin had a way of making everything better. Even if it was accomplished by making a fool of himself.

You laughed in spite of trying to catch your breath, fighting those awkward stalled inhales with a the goofy little giggle only he could force out of you. He relented finally when you gave up struggling, opting for a kiss on the tip of your nose rather than his tongue up your nostril.

“Wanna talk to me now?” He asked quietly, his playful attitude tucked away and replaced with seriousness.

“I don’t know Ani.” You sighed, feeling horribly conflicted. “I just want to go home.”

“Then I’ll take you home.” He said, not leaving room for argument. “But I’m not letting you get up until you tell me what’s going on.”

“Please? Please I don’t wanna talk about it.” Your eyes already filling back up with tears.

“It’s nothing really! It’s okay.” You pleaded with him, “I’m just… I’ve been thinking about a lot of stuff and it’s all overwhelming.”

“That’s not okay, don’t say it’s okay. You just wailed like a banshee.” He said sternly. “Talk, let me help.”

“I just feel like I’m losing my mind.” You scoffed, “Im going nuts. I don’t… I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it without you thinking I’m insane.”

“Princess.” He said, his voice cracking with pain. “You can tell me anything. You know that.”

“W-what if hypothetically…” you whispered. “It’s only hypothetical okay?”

“Okay. Imaginary scenario, let’s hear it.” He nodded solemnly.

“Hypothetically, if I was having… nightmares of someone being in my house. What would you say.” You whispered.

“Hypothetical nightmares?” He asked, one eyebrow raised. “Well… I’d suggest that maybe you… go to therapy? See if you can find the root of the problem.”

Therapy? To find the root of the problem? That would work if you didn’t already know where to find the problem: in your apartment at any given moment. Hell, he was probably there right now.

“Are you having these dreams because of that night at the bar?” He asked softly, tucking loose hairs behind your ear. “You know we didn’t see anyone put anything in your drink. No one left at the same time as you but your friends.”

“Now like I said before, just because we didn’t see it on camera… it doesn’t mean that no one slipped something in your drink. Stuff like that unfortunately happens all the time.” He sighed.

“I know.” You nodded, your eyes wet and sad, you knew you weren’t drugged there. You were drugged in the security of your own home. “I know, I think maybe I was just alittle more tipsy than I thought I don’t-“

“Hey, no… it’s okay.” He soothed you. “I believe you.”

“But there was no one who followed you home from the bar. I can say that with 100% certainty okay?” He said sternly.

“Ani but-“

“Look at me.” He said sharply, his voice turning soft again immediately after. “No one followed you home. I watched that video a hundred times over from every angle possible. No one else left the bar until about 17 minutes after you and your friends left.”

“Now don’t get upset baby okay? Listen I know, I know that it scared you shitless.” He said in a pained way, his face not quite matching his tone of voice like he was having a hard time trying to decide how to respond.

“Which is perfectly valid. It’s totally okay to be terrified if you saw something like that.” He soothed you, squeezing your upper arms. “I’m not saying it didn’t happen, I would never say that. If you say that you saw something, I believe you.”

“But, just because you saw it… doesn’t mean that it was truly there. Those kind of drugs can really fuck with your head baby.” He said gently.

“I know.” You sniffled, wiping your eyes and hiding against his chest again.

Gods… this man. He really was one of a kind, not just any man or person in general for that matter, would respond so well to such a strange temporary delusion. Your past boyfriends would’ve run for the hills. But not Anakin. It was clear he wasn’t deterred easily, he was your personal emotional support pet leech.

It was strange, feeling so comfortable like this with someone you hadn’t known for very long. After this conversation you thought maybe it would be okay to tell Anakin the truth about it all. He’d handle it perfectly well wouldn’t he?

But, you can’t risk putting him in harms way. You wouldn’t know if Anakin would be safe without first speaking to Ghost. If Anakin was your pet leech… Ghost was the the neighborhood street dog who’d decided your porch was the safest place to sleep. Who would be heartless enough to kick the poor thing out without a proper meal first?

That’s the problem with strays. Give them a scrap and they’ll love you for life.

Diary Entry: August 14th

Jesus baby I’m sorry. I thought things went well last night, I didn’t mean to make you so upset. I really didn’t. I guess you weren’t ready to see Ghost after all.

That’s my fault, I apologize. I should have known better.

It’s just… you seemed kind of excited for it you know? I thought we had a good time. Was the stripping down in front of me what freaked you out so much? Or seeing the pictures? I shouldn’t have done that. I really shouldn’t have, that was too far, too fast.

I see now that I made a mistake and I plan to rectify it as soon as possible. I’m going to give you a choice, one that I really don’t want to give you. But I will for the sake of your sanity.

I’ve been selfish for too long.

I’ve not truly considered your feelings on the situation, I’ve taken your response at face value and never attempted to dig farther than that. It won’t happen again I can assure you of that. Ghost will still be Ghost, but perhaps just a bit more considerate of your opinions and boundaries.

You must understand though, it’s hard to deal with this for me too. I know it’s not fair to compare our separate sides of the situation like this, but it’s true. It’s painful to watch you get so upset over something I’ve done, knowing I can’t really resolve the issue. I don’t know how to help, or fix this.

I’ve dug myself into a hole. A Pit if you will.

How could you ever forgive me now? After all this time that I have been so stupidly self-centered… I imagine it would be unlikely that you could find it in your immensely kind soul to forgive and forget my transgressions.

Maybe not though? I do see you as a godly entity, my own personal deity. If I leave enough at the altar, bow at your feet for long enough, serve you unconditionally… maybe then you would see that I have discovered the error of my ways. You could see that I am truthful in my pursuit of repentance.

Date

August 15th

Anakin drove to the opposite side of the city to purchase your apology gifts from Ghost. He knew well enough that Luke never had a set schedule, Han was always at the gym and you were at book club. There was limited space in time and even smaller proximity of location for him to safely collect the supplies he needed.

If someone saw him buying a dozen red roses and told you about it without his knowledge… well there goes Ghost. It’d be real hard to explain that away.

So he went to the florist, chose the most beautiful bouquet he could find and tucked it away in a large brown bag with tissue paper over the top so he wouldn’t accidentally bruise the petals.

He strolled down the side walk to another small mom and pop store, just to browse through stationary and cards. Ghost needs to be alittle more classy in his opinion. Maybe if his notes are on nice paper and written in plain black ink… that could ease the discomfort of it. It’s probably not super welcoming to find a ripped scrap of paper with red ink scrawled on it now that he’s come to think of it.

It was amusing to him before, but after your display of emotion, he’s feeling guilty. Very, very guilty. There was no reason to go the extra mile on stupid little things like that.

So, pretty grey paper and matching envelopes join the bouquet.

Now he just has to find something else. It can’t be chocolate or something generic. It has to be something meaningful. Something thoughtful to solidify the sentiment behind his offer for you. Something that will push you to make the right decision.

——————————————————————————

Anakin walked into your apartment, and went straight to your bedroom, it was time for Ghost to set up his apology present.

The big red bouquet was carefully placed in the center of your bed along with the pretty stationary propped against it. Your name carefully and neatly written in **black ink** on the envelope.

Your other gift, had turned into two. A small black box accompanying a short and squat black gift bag with grey tissue paper.

He was proud of his staged display, so proud that he couldn’t wait for you to see it. He was itching for you to get home, he needed to know what you’d choose. He was dying to see your pretty face light up with joy at his thoughtfulness.

So against his better judgement, he snapped a picture of himself standing at your bedside. The photo taken from a high angle to capture just the corner of your red rose bouquet, with himself taking up majority of the frame. His mask tilted to the side and his free hand held up a gloved peace sign.

He’d wait to send it.

He wanted to see your face when the message came through.

Anakin was prepared to be patient, but he didn’t have to be patient for long. He got the notification that there was movement out front of the building, he pulled up the live feed from the stairwell camera on his laptop and excitedly jolted up out of his seat before sitting back down quickly to scoot his seat back up to the table.

He rubbed his hands together and practically combusted from the inside when he confirmed it was you. His fingers moved quickly to send the text message and just as he thought you would, you paused and pulled your phone from your hoodie pocket.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, a bit of panic and maybe a bit of excitement. But mostly, Anakin was saddened to see fear. You were scared, but so brave as he watched you sprint up the steps. He shook his head and let out a deep breath, pulling up the split screen of all the cameras in your home.

You burst through the front door and slammed it shut, tossing your bag aside. Anakin turned up the volume just a bit and immediately realized that was a mistake because you yelled directly underneath the kitchen camera. The audio crackled as you shouted out for Ghost, Anakin realized then that you must think he’s still inside your home.

‘Just missed me.’ He texted quickly, watching you check your phone quickly and let out a sigh of relief as you muttered under your breath.

He thought you might text back, but why would you when you knew he was watching at that very moment?

“Hey!” You said, spinning in place, your eyes darting around to scan the room. “Where did you go? I didn’t see you!”

You rushed over to the living room window and down to the alley below, then up the fire escape, your gaze traveling over to the next building’s roof.

‘You won’t see me unless I want you to.’ He texted back.

“Jesus.” You muttered, rubbing your wrist anxiously. “I guess you want me to go to my room huh?”

‘Yes please.’

“Fine.” You sighed, kicking off your shoes as you walked over to the bedroom door, flinging it open quickly just incase he was still hiding out.

Your eyes drew to the center of your bed, the roses, the bag and box, the envelope. If the situation weren’t so strange you might consider this a romantic gesture. But it’s not, it’s not romantic and you shouldn’t want to open the gifts and sniff the pretty, sweet smelling flowers. You should want to call the police and have them haul the shit off for evidence.

“What’s all this for?” You asked alittle quieter than before, holding up your phone to read the text as it came through almost instantly as you knew that it would.

‘Letter.’

“Letter? That’s all?” You scoffed, “you did all this for a letter?”

‘It’s important.’ The response came quickly, followed by a second in rapid succession. ‘Gifts first.’

“Okay… alright. Gifts first.” You sighed, pulling your hand back from where it was inches away from the grey envelope.

The small box seemed like a good first thing to open, easy enough to snap shut if you didn’t like what you saw inside. Tentatively shifting the lid back and forth you wiggled it free and lifted the small square of padding to reveal a very nice, very ornate, obviously hand crafted hair-pin with a silver rod for the pin.

You gingerly lifted it from the box and held it in your hand to examine it, walking over to the window to open the curtains and see it more clearly. Smooth, black ceramic, gorgeously curved and curled silver fittings. But the most intriguing, the most breathtaking part of it, was the delicate lines and the daintily carved cameo in the center of the ceramic oval.

A woman standing under a willow, with a fawn at her feet.

You wanted to hate it, but how could you hate something so beautiful? How could you pretend to be unappreciative of something that clearly took time and effort to find, it wasn’t just vintage, it was antique. The fact that he’d searched for and seized the jewelry was a feat in itself.

You gingerly laid it back in its box, almost too afraid to hold it. Afraid of its fragility, afraid of what it stood for, how it made you feel. The tiny claws of emotion ripping at your throat stole your voice, you could only hope that Ghost couldn’t see your face from where you were standing or he would clearly see what he’d stirred up inside you.

You picked up the small bag and lifted the tissue paper gently, hoping it wasn’t another emotionally draining surprise.

It wasn’t draining, but it sure as hell was a surprise.

“What’s this?” You snorted, turning the bag over and dumping out a few cat toys.

You waited, checking your phone periodically but got no response. You knew he was still watching, so why wasn’t he answering? Sighing you shook your head and opted to take a look at the toys.

A felt kicker toy shaped as a bloody knife. A couple of fluffy spiders, eyeballs with bells inside, and a little vampire bat that was almost too cute to be a cat toy.

“Thanks.” You said quietly.

It was infuriating how well he knew you, he knew how to crawl into your brain and make you want more. How could you not when he did things like this? Thoughtful, well planned gifts, including your pet too. He knew that your cat was your baby and he’d taken the time to befriend her, cared about her enough to buy her things.

It made it all the more irritating that his choice of toys was just alittle funny. But you’d die before you admit that seeing the knife made you crack a grin.

Finally you decided it was time to open the envelope, as soon as you did, you understood why he’d asked you to open the gifts first.

LETTER

Little Doe,

I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. The hurt I saw, the words heard… I felt it in my soul when I watched you crumble.

My purpose is to love you, my job is to keep you safe, my goal is to make you happy. I’m only doing one of those things, it’s selfish of me to love you the way that I do. I know that.

What I’ve done is wrong, I’m aware. I can’t justify or explain it to you. Just know that the long and short of it is love, it’s not a normal love, but it’s mine and I’m giving it all to you.

There’s no way you’d understand the lengths I’d go to, the things I would do for you. You’d never comprehend how deeply I adore you. That’s okay. It’s hard for me to understand myself too.

The hairpin, it’s the goddess of the hunt and her fawn. I thought considering it all, it would be more than suitable for our situation.

You’re a saint, a deity, someone worth the labors of worship.

Goddesses aren’t meant to be touched, held, loved corporally. They’re meant to be imagined, a comforting presence that you feel all around you, bowed to in hopes of receiving grace. I’ve tried to go beyond the altar to reach you and for that I’m truly sorry.

Please, please take my offerings.

I love you, I need you, but I don’t deserve you. No one deserves attention from the heavens, especially not me. But if you are listening, if you’re willing, I’ll try my best to be the perfect follower.

So I’ll ask for a boon from my goddess:

Grant me passage on the road to repentance, or take my hand to walk through the valley.

You sat on your bed in silence for a long while, your cat coming to join you and accept the gifts left for her excitedly. It brought you a moment of peace to watch her waller around and smack the eyeballs across the floor.

So the overwhelming weight of the thin grey sheet of paper in your hand felt even heavier when she scampered off with her brand new bag toy hanging from her mouth like a fresh kill. She’d left you alone and undistracted again. Just you, your thoughts, and the suffocating silence surrounding you, the creeping tingle on your neck that told you he was still watching the cameras.

He was waiting.

So you sighed and crawled off the bed with your bouquet in tow, cutting the stems into the kitchen trash can and filling a glass vase with water to display them on the counter.

The grey paper followed you from room to room, seat to seat, from one hand to the other as you read it over and over. You could recite it by memory, it was burned into your retinas, you could still feel the indents of his pen on the paper long after you’d sat it aside, the smell of the paper dye singed your nostrils and didn’t leave even after your shower.

You thought you could clean yourself, wash your hands of the problem both literally and metaphorically.

No amount of scrubbing could rinse your brain well enough to wash away the thousands of jumbled words swirling around. You’d been trying to formulate one, just one, coherent sentence for a response. But each time you made progress, you changed your mind on the decision, you scrapped the idea, sent it to the shredder and recycled it into a slightly different, just as illegible mess.

He’s giving you an out. Take it.

Who cares if he still watches you? He won’t interfere. He won’t show up for visits, he won’t leave you gifts or notes.

He’d left you with an offering. A little piece of himself in exchange for your so called ‘divine intervention’. He was asking for the hand of god to stir the pot and serve it too. At least, that’s how he saw it.

For you it was just an awkward toss up of a bunch of jumbled pros and cons.

On one hand he was offering you freedom. Opening the bird cage and giving you the option to escape but clipping your wings, ensuring you can’t go too far.

He’d still watch, just not make an appearance… keep himself hidden like before.

This would also solidify Anakin’s safety, which you valued highly. You’d be free to have your beautiful blossoming relationship, without the worry and stress from the Ghost that haunts your apartment.

On the other hand he gave you the choice to join him in some capacity. To walk through the valley with him; would he walk two steps behind? Two in front? Or side-by-side?

It’d give you the opportunity to explore this stranger you’ve discovered living inside your mind and body. That weird itch that only Ghost can scratch, the thought of him alone just doesn’t do it for you anymore.

You’d have the chance to see who is under that mask and that was more intriguing than anything. You felt like the more you spoke to him, the more you watched him in person… maybe you’d be able to narrow it down to a few people. That might be worth the risks that come with allowing him to continue visiting.

So, you swallowed your fear and closed your eyes. A few silent moments later you spoke aloud, assuming Ghost was still listening.

“I’ll walk with you.” You said slowly, tasting the words as they left your lips. “On two conditions.”

‘What are they, deer?’ His response came instantaneously.

“You leave my friends and family alone. You swear on your life they’re safe and that includes Anakin. I mean it, I’m not fucking around about it okay?” You said confidently. “I already feel guilty enough, don’t make it worse for me.”

‘Guilty?’

“Yes guilty! I have a boyfriend, who I really, really like.” You said, feeling exhausted from the complexity of your choice. “This isn’t fair to him!”

“But it’s… it’s not fair to me either!” You said frustratedly as you blew out a long breath of air through pursed lips. “I deserve to know who you are! You’ve been watching me for god knows how long and I haven’t even heard your real voice.”

“And… and it’s not fair for you either.” You admitted quietly.

‘Why?’

“You’ve been… mostly harmless. Kind.” You confessed, considering saying more, much more. “You’ve been helpful. Despite everything you’ve done, you obviously care about me. I can’t ignore that especially now.”

‘Mostly harmless??’

‘Why ‘especially’ now?’

“You’re joking right?” You snorted in disbelief, shaking your head and trying to stifle a laugh of indignation. “You… well I mean it feels wrong to call it what it is. But- you.. you know what you did!” You crossed your arms frustratedly.

‘Ah… the extracurriculars.’

“Sure if that’s what you want to call it.” An expression of, strangely enough, amusement, crossed over your features. “What it is… well you know what it is.” You sighed.

“But for some reason… I don’t want to call it that.” You said quietly.

‘Hm. I’ll remember that.’

“I’m sure you will.” You huffed in spite of yourself, because if you were honest you’d be telling him you liked it. Your body liked it, your brain liked it, asleep or not, he’d affected you in ways you were unsure you could get with anyone else. Including your sweet and precious boyfriend, he’s too tender and loving.

“Second condition: you promise me that you’ll eventually tell me who you are.” You said firmly. “I deserve to know.”

‘I accept.’

“Okay then.” You sighed with relief and a bit of resignation. “You still have to warn me if you’re gonna be coming to visit though!”

‘Yes ma’am.’

“Ew. Add that to the list. Never call me ma’am again.” You snorted and it rolled into a full laugh when you finally looked up and caught your own gaze in your bedroom mirror. You were sitting in your room alone, speaking aloud, having a fully fleshed, seemingly one-sided conversation.

If anyone were to walk in on this scene playing out, they’d think you’ve lost your mind.

Maybe you already have.

Part Ten

The pendant that inspired the hairpin! I forgot to add it in sorryyyyyy

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[devilscreekballad]

It's here, it's here. The long awaited Chapter 7 is here.

After the MC got knocked out at the end of ch6 they awake back at the hotel, with Charlie telling them of the rescue mission to get them back. And that an old friend of Lynwood's has joined them, albeit just temporarily. Or maybe he's meant to stay? Also there's a cat.

Play it HERE

-

Updates & Changes (Version 7.0; 10/12/2024)

Added Chapter 7

Added Interlude Chapters from Charlie, Mrs. Meadow's and Lynwood's perspective (Lynwood's is atm incomplete and will be added with the ch8 update)

Updated skintone options

Added option for whether MC swears

Added options to not reveal if you're trans/under the umbrella

Added options to say if you bind/pad your chest or if you are flat-chested

Various bug and prose fixes.

Total Wordcount of this update (with code) 46725 words, bringing the overall wordcount (according to twine) to ~219000 (not counting unused/notes passages).

Can't give an average, sorry, but might very well be around 100k per playthrough now.

Note:

With this update the Choicescript version is on ice, though if there's ever a change to how CoG handles publishing (and if CS gets expanded array usage), who knows what the future holds for a more mobile and screenreader friendly version of Ballad.

For those new to the game:

The West is Wild and the West is Weird. A new century is around the corner, and you are an outlaw traversing the towns and terrains of the Frontier, only to one evening get wrapped up in chasing down the means to stop a doomsday cult from bringing forth the end of days. You’ll face hustlers, grifters, gunslingers and vengeful brides as you make your way to the ghost town of Devil’s Creek to find answers, and hopefully get out of there alive.

What can you play as?

Ballad allows you to set your a broad variety of factor besides gender and age, all which will have a variety of impacts on the story.

Who can you romance?

Right now there are six possible ROs, with more going to be added later:

Charlie, your best friend and partner in crime

Seán and Tommy, and odd couple of outlaws happenstance put into your little posse (they can only be romanced together)

Lynwood, a Pinkerton Agent on Seán's trail

Mrs. Meadows, widow, sharp-shooter and doctor there to make sure you'll uphold your end of the deal

Isaac, former colleague of Lynwood's picking up the trail of a cold case

As this is a Weird West game, some Warnings do apply:

Death

Blood

Violence

Swearing

Alcohol

Smoking

Mindsets and Vocabulary of the late 19th century North America/Europe

Mentions/Discussions of

Sexual Violence/Abuse

Spousal/Parental Abuse

Racism, Sexism, other forms of bigotry

Miscarriage

Infertility

Murder

Animal Death/Animal abuse

Guns

Spiritism

Mediumship

Ghosts

Supernatural events

Capitalism

Pinkertons

Like what you're seeing?

You can support the author on Pat or Ko.

~+~

But now, have fun with the game.

Stay safe, stay hydrated, stay weird. <3

[lovebvni]

repetition (a pick-a-pile)

in honor of my friends kai ( @klxudykai )and nile (who doesn’t want to be tagged), i want to do a little pap! this will be black white and purple themed for them too (their pfp colours)

i know both of them are going through cycles of repeating their actions over and over, and it is hard for them. i know it’s frustrating — hell i hate repetition. but you find peace in it.

this pick-a-pile is just advice for your manifesting and/or shifting journey. there is no real theme, but i asked spirit to bring up something you need to repeat for each pile.

this pap is intuition and shufflemancy-based. i am not using tarot nor cards at all for this. this is also for entertainment purposes. take my words with a grain of salt AND please do not use this as legal or life advice.

now, inhale and exhale. believe in your intuition, and pick a picture.

[1 ; 2

3 ; 4]

pile 1 the spiral.

hi pile 1! here’s confirmation for your pile : cycles, crying, cynical, the letter c (in your name of in the name of your significant other. casey and clark stand out.), puns, clairaudience, crown, clowns, (a lot of words w the letter c jesus christ..), underwater, drowning, sinking, the sea, oceans, water (s), fix your face, black, sexism, activist, reality shifter, cyclones, spirals, “i feel like im not seeing any signs/progress”

well pile one, you could feel like you are stuck in a cycle. just a torpedo and you’re getting hit with the same things over and over. you’re wondering why things aren’t changing, why this won’t end, but it’s because YOU won’t change. this is the harshest i think i have ever been in a pick a card, but you really need to get over yourself. realize you aren’t the person you should be, throw that person away and reinvent yourself. you want a lot in life, and you aren’t going to get it if you don’t decide to change yourself. the universe chose you for a reason, but if you keep having your own pity party, you aren’t gonna get anywhere. stop getting mad when you’re being told the truth. it isn’t there to hurt you. it’s there to help you. the truth is a tool. and as long as you keep ignoring it, you keep hiding from the monster inside your closet, it’s never gonna leave. it’s gonna haunt you. it’s like a negative spirit. lure it out and keep it coming. it is gonna hurt, but it’s worth it.

your required repetition is “continue to listen and change yourself. transformation.”

the waiting season is one where you need to work, don’t keep sulking.

now to interpreting your song, her by poppy. you have been trying to be someone else that you are not, for someone else. the chorus

“I'm getting to know her And all of her anger You won't recognize her If you encountered I'm getting to know her And all of her anger Picked herself up Put her back together”

you need to change and you know it, and you don’t know how. start with your anger, your sadness, a strong emotion and unravel it. unwrap it like a gift. keep pulling to you get to the root of the cause — hold it.. nurture it… and get the mud off it.

see this as a new start, pile one. i love you. you need to know you’re strong, and you can do this. don’t get annoyed, because i know you’ve been told this before. fix your face.

pile 2 ghouls

hello pile 2! here’s confirmation this is your pile!!: fairies, love, purple, green, heart chakra and third eye chakra, shadows, “on a silver platter”, polite, scars, romance, sacred, girl blogger, skull and bones, doja cat, fear of success, screaming, pink, sexuality, white, sensuality, fire and ice, opposites, blood, self sabotage, royalty, alternative, goth, knight, disability, multilingual, this specific dynamic, vampire

simplicity. simplify everything. that’s all spirit is saying. don’t over complicate things. that’s like all spirit is saying u guys 😭😭

they r literally saying clear your mind, just be the person you are meant to be. listen to your intuition, be creative, have love in your heart, even when times are hard, and let emotions flow.

spirit told me your manifestations are actively coming in 😭😭 idek why you’re reading this pac! like there are no notes, nothing else you need to do. just listen to your intuition and be in tune with yourself. god i love this pile bc yall r js so sweet and light hearted — like there’s so much hidden positivity here that’s waiting to come out.

good job on how far you’ve come, and hav fun where you’re going! love you pile 2!

pile 3 — unclear memory

hi pile 3! here’s your confirmation: “even a worm will turn”, disappointment, ditsy, protector, big eyes, proposal, hobbit core, hermitcraft, minecraft, silence, under another’s control, blush, light colours (pastels), resting, new opportunities, distractions, distant, chapell roan, wlw.

you’re over possessive but you cut out your heart. or someone else cut it out. you need to get your priorities straight. there’s so much going on in your brain. they all lead to the same thing, don’t they? like how a spider web meets in the middle.

you’re sad, i can tell, but you won’t let anyone know. you think you’ve done enough, or even too much, but in reality you’ve been distracted. you’re trying to hide your main in overworking. doing too much.

your repeating advice is “get back on track and focus on your morals”.

but dont become some else. become yourself. stop holding grudges. get yourself back.

pile 4 — kisses

hi pile 4! here’s confirmation this is your pile: shadow work, brooklyn nine-nine, wolf pack, furry, july, suicidal but continuing, height difference, jumbled thoughts, flowers, blue and pink, wash off the makeup, ombré, counting crows poem.

this is my dogs favorite song 😭😭

pile four, you have been looking for outer validation when you don’t need it. you’re searching for signs, for love, for confirmation you’re on the right path when you really jay need yourself. you’re putting yourself down and other people/the universe on a pedestal. YOU ARE THE UNIVERSE!! REALIZE THAT!

what you say goes. what you want will happen. and that’s that.

your advice is as follows ; “you need to just rest.”

and i think that’s great advice. sit down and relax. listen to music, meditate, be at peace. work on yourself. try journaling too!! it will help.

thank yall for reading!! <3 i hope this helps someone. finishing this at 5:55 pm btw!!

[duhnova]

Dancing Queen | Choi Seungcheol

Pairing: disco club owner!choi seungcheol x performer!reader (fem)

Genre: smut, fluff, tiny bit of angst if you squint but its almost nonexistent

Synopsis: the stage is where you felt the most comfortable, letting go and singing for everyone that would sit and listen. but it was hard making a living in America, every corner you turned there was trouble waiting for you because you were too comfortable with your sexuality for the public’s liking. so when you stepped off the ship that took you to your new life in Paris, you were surprised to collide with a disco club owner who was in a similar boat as you.

Warning(s): smut under the cut (mdni!!!), mentions of food and alcohol, joke about marriage, ambiguous sexuality, talks on sexuality and swinging any which way, cat calling, talks of sexism and a little power imbalance, mentions of religion and leaving the church, mentions of immigration, implications of a future threesome, cheol has a sir & daddy kink (big surprise), spanking, bruises (cheol has a bit of a heavy hand and thrust), office sex, a bit of praising (both ways), lowkey breeding kink (are we surprised?), i feel like the sex was a bit tame in this but please let me know if i forgot anything else! - don't mind grammatical errors and typos, i tried!

A/N: biggest shout out to @onlyseokmins & @the-boy-meets-evil for proof reading for me and offering feedback/opinions, and for also putting up with my late night bullshit these last few nights of constantly putting off finishing this - jess really saw my turmoil with this one and BLESS her heart for not telling me to go fuck myself after id message her late saying i either finished a section or i didn't end up writing like i wanted too (and then id send her an idea right after for her to read in the morning). anyways i spent the last few months struggling with this fic and i hope ya'll like it and if you don't... keep it to yourself <3

70s;teen collab masterlist | my svt masterlist

Paris was beautiful, the long voyage was more and more worth it the longer you spent in the city that bustled and thrived. America was nothing compared to France, the countrysides and the cities alike felt like they were straight out of a book. 

Life was starting to finally look up for you, even if you weren't fully able to escape the turmoils you faced in America, you were given more opportunities in the so-called city of love. Cars driven by men still honked at you and women with their children glared and covered their kin's eyes as you walked down the street, your cleavage and shoulders on display and your skirt far above the knees. 

Despite the business of the city during the day, there were plenty of shops downtown that didn’t open up until nightfall. One in particular, Club Kidult, was said to be the best nightclub in all of the country. It’s owned by a man from Korea who is a wildcard, with a knack for “adopting” foreigners - or so you’ve been told. 

“Can’t you read? We’re closed right now.” A man glares at you after knocking on the front door of Club Kidult. 

“Is the owner here?” You brushed the strange man’s hostility off. His glare turned to curiosity as he finally eyed you up and down in a manner that wasn’t unfamiliar. 

“Why? Does he owe you money, doll?” The man moves to fully stand in the doorframe, letting you get a nice view of the inside of the shop behind his tall stature. 

“No…” You huff quietly at the insinuation before giving him your sweetest smile, knowing exactly how to play with a man. “I wanted to see if I could perform here tonight.” 

“You a dancer?” 

“I can be if you want.” You couldn’t help the flirty tone, the man was attractive and so far he hasn’t treated you like an object. “But I mainly sing.”

“A singer?” He hums quietly, his grin showing off his sharp teeth. “We don’t get many of those around here, most women want to dance on our stage.” 

“I could imagine,” You cross your arms, pushing your boobs up slightly. “So… Is he in?” The man hums quietly. 

“Ah, no.” He was very blunt with his answer before he looked back over his shoulder to look at the empty building. “But…”

“But?”

“He might kill me for this but,” he looks back at you. “I’ll let you wait for him. He likes to stop by and make sure everything is ready for the night before he goes to get dolled up.” 

“Well I don’t want to get you in trouble now.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll get me in a lot of trouble, doll,” He gives you a wink before he’s moving out of the way to welcome you into the club. “Too bad I’m not scared of Cheol.”

“Cheol?” You question as you hesitantly walk into the establishment. Despite it being closed still, there was music playing and you could hear a lot of voices coming from somewhere in the back - easing your nerves of possibly being alone with this stranger. 

“Choi Seungcheol is the name of the owner, but don't call him that or he might bite your head off.”

“So what do I call him then?” 

“I’m sure he’ll tell you, but you can address him as sir, I guess.” The man shrugs. “I’m Mingyu by the way, head of security at this joint.”

“So head of security, do you just let all the people that come knocking on the door looking for your boss in?”

“Only the pretty ones.” He smirks as he walks around the bar. “Our bartenders don’t show up for another hour but I can whip you up somethin' simple if you like.” He leans against the counter as he watches you take a seat at one of the bar stools. 

“Whiskey please.”

“Just whiskey?” He looks at you with raised eyebrows as you nod your head. You never felt comfortable in bars back home, the majority of them filled with only men and so the list of mixed drinks intimidated you. The only thing you were comfortable with was bourbon and whiskey as your father always had them in stock in his cabinet. “I like you.” Mingyu grins as he pulls the most expensive bottle of whiskey off the shelfs to pour over ice for you. 

“I’m wonderin'…” You mumble as you pull the glass towards you after Mingyu set it down on a napkin for you. 

“About?” The tall male leans against the counter top. 

“Is it true?” You take a sip of your whiskey and before you can reiterate what you mean, Mingyu beats you to it.

“If the rumors are true?” He shrugs at your scoff. “Most of us workin' aren’t from here… Couple of the girls are from across the pond like yourself.”

“They're American?”

“Well… A little more south. Brazil I think.”

“Are they dancers?” You take another sip of your drink. “I’m assuming that’s what Mr. Choi likes.”

“A few are but one of them is our head chef.” Mingyu hums quietly. “And dancers aren’t Cheols favorite, they're mine.” You laugh quietly at his wolfish grin. 

“Well what does Mr. Choi like?” 

“Well he doesn’t like to be called Mr. Choi, that’s for sure.” He pushes off the counter just as the door to the club opens. “And he likes singers!” He’s quick to rush out as he speed walks around the bar to stand in front of you a little. 

“Wha-” You stop midway through your word as you spin in your chair to see a man dead staring in your direction. 

“Cheol!” 

“Mingyu…” His voice was low and dangerous as he tried to scope you out from behind the tall wall of a man. 

“Hiya boss… Look.” 

“What have I told you about bringin' strays in while I’m not here.”

“C’mon man look at her, she’s smokin'!” He whips around to quickly apologize before he’s turning back towards the man you presumed was Choi Seungcheol. “She wants to sing here.” He doesn’t give anyone a chance to breathe as he steps to the side to give Seungcheol the full view of you. He falters for just a millisecond as his eyes scan you from head to toe before he’s turning to Mingyu. 

“Next time ya bring someone in here without me knowin', I’m cuttin' your pay.”

“Noted.” Mingyu nods quickly. 

“Come with me upstairs.” He doesn’t give you a second glance before he’s walking towards a set of stairs that are blocked off that lead up to the upper level where his office sits.

“So, ya wanna work here?’ Seungcheol wasted no time as he offered the seat in front of his desk for you to sit in. His accent a little different from his friend downstairs and you figured it had to do with the duration of time each had spent in the country. 

“Yes,” you take the seat with a small nod of thanks. “I wanna sing on your stage.” The look Seungcheol gave you as he sat back in his office chair, the slight glare of his eyes as they raked your body, caused shivers to run up your spine. 

“A singer?” He mumbles behind the hand that rested over his mouth as he propped his elbow on the arm of his chair. 

“Yes. I used to sing in New York an-”

“New York? You're American?”

“I... yes,” you mumble. “Is that a problem?”

“No... Not one bit.” He sat up straighter, fixing his coat as he eyed you up again. “My whole staff is foreign, as are my performers.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“My reputation carries, I see.” He smirks. 

“So... Will you let me sing here?” You lean forward a little, letting your chest pop out a little, hopefully his eyes will linger long enough for him to fold. 

“I’ll need to hear you first before I let you on my stage.” His eyes don’t waver from your face, he knew the game you were trying to play - it’s one he’s played plenty of times to get where he was. 

“Oh...” You huff quietly before sitting back in your chair. 

“Don’t sound so disappointed darlin’, I didn’t say no.” He has to bite his tongue to keep from grinning at the way your demeanor changed in seconds. “We’re closed on Sundays, come back then and show me what you got and I’ll decide if I have room for you or not.” 

“Sunday?” 

“What? Don’t tell me you’ve got plans already.” He watched the way you messed with a beat up rosary sticking out of your pocket.

“I didn’t take you for someone that got on their knees for men that were higher than them.”

“Only the rich ones.” You smile back. “But no, I don’t go to church anymore. I just have a date with the eiffel tower.”

“I see, sorry I assumed because I saw the rosary. I’ve only known church goers to carry them.”

“I abandoned the church a long time ago, it just used to be my grandma's, it’s kind of like my good luck charm now.”

“I abandoned the church a long time ago too.”

“Yeah?” Your eyes lit up in curiosity. 

“Times are changing, life’s too short to not love who and what you wanna love.”

“So you swing one way… two ways?...” Your voice trailed off as you tried to guess his preference.

“I swing anyway you want me to, darlin’.” He leans over his desk and rests his chin on the back of his interlocked hands so he can give you a cheeky grin. “We can even invite the idiot downstairs that let you in if that floats your boat…” Your legs squeeze closed at the idea and his eyes can’t help but wander this time. “And I’m sure it does.” 

“So Sunday?” You whisper, your voice getting lost in your throat at the way Seungcheol's eyes looked back up at you through his lashes. 

“Sunday, nine in the morning. Can you do that?” You nod quickly. 

“Yes!” You clear your throat as your voice cracked from the change in volume. “Yes, I can do that.” He laughs a little at your contained excitement as he sits back in his chair again. 

“Good, don’t be late. I expect you to be here the second the clock hits nine and if you’re not… My doors won’t open.”

“Got it... Sir.” You smile sweetly at him, his adam’s apple bobbing a little as he scoffs quietly. 

“Good… Girl. Now go, suns goin down and we open soon.” 

“Right. Well, I’ll see you on Sunday.” You stand up and straighten your shorts before you give him a curt nod and scurry to the door. Just as you open it you turn your head back and give him the cutest smile you could muster. “Thank you, Sir.” 

Before you could get any kind of response from him you close his office door quickly and rush down the stairs, cheering quietly to yourself. You were going to spend the rest of the week anticipating this little “audition.”

“I take it he’s lettin' you in?” Mingyu was leaning against the bar top, a shaggy brown haired male working behind him, cleaning glasses. 

“Well, not exactly.”

“What?” The unknown male stopped what he was doing to look at you wide eyed. “You’re the finest girl to walk through those doors and ask to work here and he just turned you down?” 

“Chan…” Mingyu's voice was laced with warning. 

“Sorry…” He mumbles to you before he goes back to cleaning his cups. 

“It’s alright, I’m used to it.” You shrug with a smile. “But he didn’t turn me down, he just said I have to show him what I got first before I can sing on his stage.”

“First, ya shouldn’t be used to men treatin' you like that, this world is disgusting.” Mingyu pushes off the counter so he can walk you to the door. “And second, Cheol has never allowed just any singers to sing here. You have - ”

“I have to be good, I know.” You smile up at him and pat his arm that was firm under your touch and it took everything in you to not do it again just to feel the muscles that laid under his shirt. 

“Piece of advice...” He mumbles to you as he opens the club’s doors for you. “He likes upbeat songs, things that are funky and out there.” 

“Has he heard of Abba?” 

“Honey... I don’t know who that is.”

“So I know what to play then.” You both mirrored the same grin as you stepped out into the dimming light. 

“Will you be okay walkin' home?” You nod your head as you turn to walk backwards to watch Mingyu watch you walk while he leans against the doorframe. 

“I live close enough to see your neon lights shine!” You call out over the loud roaring of a car passing by. “I’ll be fine!”

“You better be! I wanna see you perform!” He yells back, waving at you as you wave and turn to start to run down the sidewalk in joy. You laugh to yourself, twirling and jumping over the curbs - your dream was one step closer to coming true. 

Sunday couldn’t come any quicker as you spent everyday exploring Paris just to sit at your window and watch the crowd in front of Club Kidult every night. To think that that many people could be lining up next week to hear you sing - if all goes well - when you meet Seungcheol again. 

When you woke up to the sun barely peeking over the horizon, you groaned in frustration. Your little alarm was set to go off in forty more minutes but the excitement of what was going to happen in a couple hours had you jumping up to take a long hot shower. 

You let your hair air dry for a little bit before you set it up in curlers so you could finish off drying them with the fancy new hair dryer you splurged on when you moved here. You could never afford these types of luxuries back home, the prices being drastic. 

You hummed the tune of the song you were going to be performing quietly as you danced around your room getting clothes out so you could change while your hairs cooled off in the curlers - hopefully making your curls last longer. 

“I can’t believe today is the day,” you mumble as you buttoned up your high waisted pants that flared a little at the bottom. Tucking your shirt in a little, you make your way to your front door where all your shoes sat waiting for you to choose from. 

You go back to humming your song as you slip your shoes on, fixing the straps on them before standing up straight to check your makeup in the mirror by your door. You yelp quietly at the sight of your curlers still in before you are carefully rushing to take them down. 

“Can’t believe I almost walked out the house lookin' like a clown.” You laugh quietly at yourself as you go back to your bathroom to hairspray your hair, mumbling that you’ll clean your apartment floors later tonight as you trudged your outdoor shoes through your living room.

Once you were out the door, you all but skipped down the hall, taking the steps two at a time as you happily jumped down them so you could make it to the club on time - early even, which you hoped made a good first impression on the owner. 

“You’re early.” Mingyu chirps from behind you as you make your way up to the front doors of the club. 

“Jesus!” You yelp in surprise.

“Sorry darlin’, didn’t mean to scare ya.” He walks past you to unlock one of the doors. “Cheol ain’t here yet, it’s barely eight.”

“Guess I’m earlier than I thought.” You laugh nervously. 

“He’ll like that. Most of us barely run on time.”

“You’re here early too, though.”

“Actually, between me and you I’ve been here since seven.” He laughs quietly as he hangs his coat over one of the bar chairs. “We have a delivery comin soon and I was supposed to be here waitin' and cleanin'.”

“Well your secret is safe with me.” You smile at him as you watch the way he messes with the clock on some machine on the wall before he’s putting a card through it. “Don’t forget to set that clock back.” 

You watch Mingyu almost break his back as he jerks back around to make sure the punch machine clock reads the same time as the clock on the wall before he’s putting the glass cover back on it. 

“Thank you, darlin'’” He gives you a grin full of teeth. 

“No problem, handsome.” You giggle at the way he puffs his chest out a little at the comment. “If you need any help I obviously have some free time.”

“Just sit there and look cute while I restock the bar to make room for new inventory in the back.” He winks at you. “Wouldn’t want you gettin' hurt before you're supposed to perform for me and the big boss.”

“Lookin' pretty is no fun.” You huff as you sit at the bar just as the club door swings open to let in a bunch of natural light. 

“You must never have fun then.” Seungcheol doesn’t waste a beat as he locks the club door before shrugging his coat off and making his way to the staircase.

“I have plenty of fun, thank you very much.” You cross your arms and watch the way his pants accentuate his ass. 

“Do you now?” He stops in front of his office door to look back at you. “Hard to believe for a pretty face like yours.”

“You think I’m pretty?” 

“Doll… I’d be dumb to not think it.” You can’t help the little happy wiggle you do as Seungcheol turns back around to walk into his office. 

The bar doesn’t stay quiet for long as Mingyu hauls a bunch of boxes from the backrooms that are filled with supplies. 

“We had a busy week.” He drops the last box on the counter in front of you. “Had to call in this month’s shipment early.” 

Your eyebrows rose in curiosity as you peek into the box to view its contents. Packs of little drink umbrellas filled half the box, and with even more curiosity, you pull one of them out. 

“You mind pullin' those all out for me?” Mingyu sets an almost empty container on the counter next to the box that had a couple little umbrellas left. “Just put 'em in there and Chan will unwrap them later.”

A nice silence fell between the two of you as he replaced missing alcohol bottles on the shelves and put more cups under the counter. Mingyu even gave you a box full of straws and told you to wash your hands so you could fill all the straw dispensers with what was left in the box. 

“Are you makin' her work before she’s even hired, Gyu?” Seungcheol walks down the stairs to smile at the sight of you stocking straws and Mingyu stacking more receipt books under the register. 

“Hey, she wanted to help.” Mingyu shrugs as he goes about his business unbothered. 

“It’s fun stocking things.” You shrug in a similar manner as Mingyu without even looking up from the dispenser you're trying to symmetrically stuff straws into. 

“You two are strange.” He shakes his head before sitting at the bar to admire the way you floated behind the counter, moving around Mingyu's clumsy figure like he didn’t even exist. 

“Strange how?” Mingyu scoffs as he finishes his task before turning to stuff the last straw dispenser despite your whining that you were just about to do that one. “There was time to kill before her performance.” 

“There was only time to kill cause someone here is an early bird.” He smiles at the way you cross your arms. “Which is nice… It’s refreshing to see someone here before me.”

“Hey, I was here before you.” Mingyu butts in. 

“It’s a miracle.” Seungcheol raises his eyebrow at the tall male in a manner that challenged him to keep arguing. 

“Fuck face.” Mingyu mumbles under his breath in a playful manner before he starts gathering all the empty boxes to break down and toss out. 

“So.” Once Mingyu took all the trash to the backrooms Seungcheol put all his attention back on you. “Any reason why your early?”

“Gonna complain already?” You lean against the counter so you were closer to his vicinity. Mimicking you, Seungcheol leans forward too – you're so close your breath mingles together. 

“Who said I was complainin'?”

“Well you don’t seem too happy I’m here.”

“Oh darlin’, I’m over the moon.” He smirks at the way you bite your lip, your red lipstick unwavering. 

“Maybe I just wanted some alone time with your little guard back there without any distractions, like you.” You hum playfully. 

“Ouch, you’re hurtin' me doll.” He runs his tongue over his teeth.

“Aw.” You fake pout before you're grinning. “You could hurt me.”

“The only thing I’d hurt on you, doll, are your hips.” 

“Is that a promise?” You lean over the counter, a little more in excitement. Flirting came naturally to you, it was a great way to get what you wanted but you’ve never felt more genuinely attracted to someone like you are to Seungcheol. Before he could respond, Mingyu comes sauntering through the backdoors with his arms full of cleaning supplies. 

‘Great timing, Gyu” Seungcheol pulled away at the same time as you jumped back from leaning on the counter. 

“Sorry,” He looked at you, then his boss before he was dropping the supplies on the counter. “Did I interrupt somethin'?” Neither of you answered, which was enough of an answer for Mingyu as he starts to clean the bar, mumbling another apology to you as you scurried from behind the counter to stand a little awkwardly off to the side of where Seungcheol was sitting. 

“It’s almost time for you to sing for us, need me to set anything up for you?” You shake your head no, you were more than familiar with the systems that were used in clubs like this. “Everything you’ll need is either behind the stage or off to the side, yell if you need me.” 

While you were turning the system and speakers on, you realized you forgot your vinyl record that had the song on it at home. Cursing quietly under your breath you pray that they somehow have the record as you start to flip through the hundreds of vinyl records they had in the back. 

“How the hell are you not gonna have Abba in here?” You whine quietly as you made your way through the last couple of vinyls. “Mr. Choi!” You yell loud enough for him to hear you from behind the stage. You could hear what sounded like the chair hitting the counter (or floor) and Mingyu cursing as Seungcheol’s quick footsteps approach from behind you. 

“Are you okay?” His voice was filled with worry.

“I forgot my record at home and you don’t have it here for me to use in the background.” You huff quietly, a small pout on your lips. 

“Aw darlin'; you gave me a heart attack, I thought you hurt yourself.” Seungcheol sighs in relief. “Just sing without it, wow us even more without the sound.” 

“I haven’t performed for people without the music before.” You mumble, a little self conscious of your raw voice.  

“It’ll just be me and Gyu, you got nothin' to worry about.” He reassures you with a smile. “I’m gonna sit down, come out when you’re ready.” 

When Seungncheol went back out to the front room, you started to pace back and forth. You focused on the melody of the song in your head – you’ve sang this song a million times, both with and without the track, so it shouldn’t be too hard. 

After a couple minutes pass by, you finally take a deep breath and push your nerves down. Without much of a second thought, you walked out onto the stage and up to the mic that was already setup. Seungcheol was sitting at the bar with a glass of what looked like orange juice while Mingyu leaned against the counter to watch you intensely. 

“This song is supposed to be upbea.t so it might not sound as good without the music but,” you took a deep breath. “I’ll be singing Dancing Queen by Abba for you.” 

“You’ve got this!” Mingyu cheered quietly as he smiled encouragingly, while Seungcheol offered a soft smile that calmed you down instantly. 

You did a count in your head before you closed your eyes so you could feel the song deeper before you started to sing. Even without the music playing, you managed to stay on beat almost perfectly and as far as either male knew, the way you were singing the song was exactly how the song was supposed to sound. 

“That was…” Mingyu broke the silence right after you had finished singing before he started to clap and cheer loudly for you. “You’re amazing!” He flicks Seungcheol’s ear to snap him out of whatever trance he was in to give you his thoughts.

“I told you you didn’t need the music playing.”

“Wow you start off with ‘I told you so,’.” Mingyu mocks him playfully which earned him a rather harsh smack and a giggle from you. 

“Well I’m glad you both liked it since I was up here shakin' like a leaf in the wind.”

“Couldn’t even tell.” Mingyu calls after you as you go to shut the system off before joining the two in the front room again. 

“I don’t know what I was expectin' when you said you were a singer.” Seungcheol watches you take a seat. 

“Yeah he’s picky with his women, I mean singers.” Mingyu quickly excuses himself when Seungcheol glares at him hard. 

“Don’t listen to that idiot.” He sighs quietly. 

“It’s ok, I’m picky with my men.” You shrug and smile playfully at Seungcheol as you hop up onto the bar stool that was one away from where he was sitting. 

“Do you wanna sing here Friday nights?”

“Are you serious?”

“It’s just to start off with, if the people like you I’ll book you for more nights.” He takes a sip of his juice to hide his smile as he watches you practically jump in your seat out of excitement.

“I’d love to!” You bite your tongue to keep from squealing too loud. “I’ll remember my record this time.”

“You’ll have to show it to me so I can buy it for here.” You nod your head quickly.

“I can’t believe it,” You smile brightly again, your excitement hard to contain. “Thank you so so much.”

“Of course, don’t disappoint me now, okay?” His voice was playful.

“Never.” You sounded one hundred percent serious.

“Good girl.” He mumbles under his breath before he’s taking another sip of his juice. 

“I should get going now, I still have that date with the eiffel tower and a cafe to get breakfast.”

“Right.” He stands up from his chair so he can walk you out. “The view from the tower is beautiful.”

“So I’ve heard.” 

“You hear a lot of things don’t you, doll?”

“Only good things I fear.” You give him a cheeky smile as you sigh quietly at the feeling of the warm sun hitting your face as you step outside. 

“Well, have fun. I’ll see you Friday?”

“Maybe sooner if you’re lucky.” You can’t will yourself to step away yet. 

“Well I hope I’m lucky then.” He leans against the doorframe, unable to move himself. 

“We’ll see if you are.” A car horn in the distance finally broke you from whatever was keeping you glued there as you stepped backwards down the sidewalk like you did when saying bye to Mingyu the first day you were at the club. “Bye Mr. Choi, See you soon!”

“I hope.” He mumbles to himself as he waves back at you, yelling to be careful as you almost run into a lamp post.

“Bye Darlin’!” Mingyu pushes Seungcheol out the way so he can yell down the road before you were too far out of earshot. 

“Bye Mingyu!” You turn back around to yell. “By the way, my name is Y/N!” Your laugh could be heard even from that distance as you make your way towards the Eiffel tower, flipping off a man who cat-called you from his car. 

For some reason you found it hard to sleep, the birds were extra loud outside your window and the sun had barely breeched the horizon. Groaning for the umpteenth time that morning, you sit up abruptly, your hair a wild mess from all the tossing and turning you’ve been doing. 

“This is stupid.” You mumble before tossing your blankets off your body so you could go to the bathroom to take a shower, hoping it’ll wake you up more.

The market down the street was going to open soon and you were in desperate need of more milk and coffee for your apartment. So when you got out of your shower you didn’t waste too much time in doing your hair, choosing to put it up in a messy ponytail with a red ribbon you recycled from an old christmas present. You didn’t bother with makeup before walking out of the house in a skirt that you cut to sit in the middle of your thighs along with a tank top. 

Strolling down the street slowly, you reminisced a little with what’s happened the last couple of weeks, from you leaving New York and being stuck on a ship for weeks only to land in France where your dreams came true quicker then they ever would in America, the so called place where dreams come true. In the middle of your thoughts, an obnoxious whistle broke you from your trance and an even more obnoxious voice followed. 

“Hi there, sweets.” The thick French -ccented English was slurred by alcohol and you weren’t surprised as you gave him the fakest and sweetest smile you could muster. 

“Don’t fall on your way home.” You wiggled your fingers as you waved him goodbye. Sometimes it was better to hold your tongue and be nice, especially in a foreign setting that you weren’t too familiar with. 

Luckily that was the only thing you had to deal with before making it to your destination. The market was just barely opened, the cashiers and a couple other customers joined you in the rather spacious store for it being so close to downtown. 

“Well hey there, darlin'.’” The grin in the voice made you know instantly who it was. 

“Hi Mingyu.” You put a jar of strawberry preserves into your little wicker basket that you brought with you as a bag. 

“How’dja know it was me?” You looked up at the six-foot-something male with a raised eyebrow. 

“Kiddin' me? I could hear the shameless grin in your voice from a mile away.”

“Touched you can recognize me without even lookin', I must be that good lookin'.” 

“Hardly.” You grin playfully as you move on to look at the selection of bread they had on display today. 

“Ouch, you hurt me darlin’.” He whines and it reminds you of Seungcheol, and a chill ran up your spine at the mere thought of said male. 

“What brings you to the store so early? Thought you weren’t a mornin' person.” You put a loaf of sourdough bread in your basket and look back to see Mingyu's brown mop of hair peeking over the top of the shelf as he moved to the aisle over. Either he’s tall as fuck or the shelves are short, both could be true. 

“Cheol’s been cooped up in his office all mornin stressin', an' being his right hand, it’s my job to stress with him I guess.” He sighs quietly but you still heard it as you moved further away from him to grab some bagels. 

“Stressed?”

“Yeah, immigration is on his ass 'bout papers for all the workers, himself included, so he’s tryin to get his shit straight before someone gets in trouble.” Mingyu pops up next to you to grab himself some bagels. “So bring your papers with you on Friday, darlin’.” 

“I will.” You hum quietly before looking down at the weird assortment of things in his store basket. “Whatcha makin’?” 

“Whatever Cheol is in the mood for later, I love cookin' and it helps him get the stick out his ass.” He shrugs as he moves towards the refrigerated section. 

“You cook?”

“And clean so if yer lookin’ for a husband I’m takin' applications.” He looks at you over his shoulder. “But only for you, darlin’.”

“In your dreams lover boy.”

“I could always dream ‘bout you.” He laughs quietly when you scoff. “Guessin' I’m not your type?” All you can do is shrug.

“Don’t gotta type.”

“Oh?” 

“All they gotta be able to do is make me orgasm I guess.”

“Scandalous.” He checks through a couple packs of eggs before finding one he’s content with. “You and Cheol are similar in that way - as long as they’re kind he doesn’t care much who or what they are.”

“Do you care?” 

“All I care is that they like my cookin’.” You knew you had found your people as you continue to shop with Mingyu trailing behind, picking up items he wasn’t even planning on until he saw you shopping in the section. 

“Are you going back to the club now?” You walk out the store after you argued with Mingyu over him paying for your groceries, him arguing that it was a “welcome to the neighborhood” gift. 

“Only to drop this stuff off.” He holds up his bag of groceries. “Then I gotta go pick up Cheol’s suit from the tailor and pick up some more food that I can’t get at a regular market.”’

“Imports?”

“Fresh fish straight from the ports of Japan and I’m picking up an order I had put in a while back for fresh Gochugaru.” 

“Chili flakes?” You looked at him curiously.

“Yeah... You know Korean?”

“A little, my neighbor was a little old Korean lady and her kids moved across country and didn’t visit anymore, so I’d hang out with her often and she’d teach me Korean.”

“Cute,” Mingyu smiles gently, a huge contrast from the grin he always had. “Me and Cheol were forced to learn English when we had moved here because it was either that or French and one was significantly easier than the other for us.” 

“You speak really well.” 

“Thank you, I try.” You couldn’t help but giggle at the way he puffed his chest out. 

A comforting silence fell over the two of you as you continued to walk down the street in the general direction of where you lived. Reaching a certain intersection you two stop - one way led you the rest of the way to your apartment and the other way led in the direction of the club. 

“Need me to walk you the rest of the way home?” 

“I got it from here Gyu.” You start to walk again in the direction of home, leaving Mingyu to stand there on his own. 

“Gyu...” He smiled happily at you using his nickname. “Be safe! And I’ll be out of the club for at least an hour if you wanted to go visit the stress ball in his office, he could use the distraction!” 

“I’ll consider gracing him!” You call back over your shoulder before waving goodbye to the golden retriever of a man who all but scurried across the street, narrowly missing a car who he quickly cursed at loud enough for you to hear him from down the road. 

It didn’t take you long to get all your groceries put away, the thought of going to see Seungcheol had you moving on auto pilot. Taking a second to freshen up your appearance, you make sure your hair isn’t frizzy before you make your way out of your apartment to walk to the club. 

The streets were unnaturally quiet as you walked in the direction that has become all too familiar to you in the short amount of time you’ve been here. Finally seeing the doors come into view, you realize that Mingyu said he was going to be out, so you had no idea on how you were going to get in. 

“Oh!” Mingyu jumps a little as he opens the door to leave to see you standing there with a look of contemplation on your face. “You came darlin’. ”

“I hope I will be later,” The look of confused curiosity Mingyu gave you made you shake your head with a fond smile, opting to not explain your innuendo. “You said I’d be a good distraction for Mr. Choi so of course I came.”

“Well he’s up in his office, like he has been for hours.” Mingyu sighs quietly as he looks up at Seungcheol’s office in worry before he’s turning to give you a smile. “Like I said, I’ll be out for a couple hours so whole place is to yourselves.”

“Thank you.” You wave him goodbye, wishing him to be safe. 

“Mr. Choi?” You mumble quietly as you knock on his door. It takes a long few seconds for you to get any acknowledgement that he heard you. “I’m comin’ in.” You didn’t give him the option to let you in or not as you open the door slowly to see tired eyes framed by fluffy and tousled hair looking at you. 

“Whatcha doin’ here, honey?” The new nickname sent butterflies a flight in your tummy as you close the door behind you and make your way to stand in front of his desk. 

“Gyu said you were stressin’,” you mumble as you look at all the paperwork spread across his desk. “Maybe you need a break from all this.” 

“I can’t just ignore this all…” He sighs quietly as he runs his hand through his hair for what looks like the millionth time that morning. 

“I’m not saying to forget ‘bout it, just saying you need to relax.” You start to gently and carefully stack the papers into a neat pile before setting it on the corner of his desk. Seungcheol just watches your hands move, even as you slowly move around his desk to stand behind him. “Let me help you, Mr. Choi.”

You hum quietly as you rest your hands on his shoulders and gently pull him to sit back in his chair. Sighing again, Seungcheol lets you do whatever you want as you start to massage at his shoulders - something you picked up from the men that you’d visit that worked on Wall Street. 

“That feels nice.” He mumbles, his eyes fluttering closed as he relaxes into the back of his chair more. 

“Yeah?” You mumble with a smile, a little sultry tone to your voice as you knead a little harder, the knot under your fingertips melting away. Seungcheol groans, satisfied at the tension leaving his body as he curses quietly in Korean causing you to giggle quietly. The words were familiar, your old neighbor having said them a time or two but in an angrier tone. 

“What’s so funny doll?” He opens his mouth, his eyebrow raised in curiosity as he looked up at you. 

“Nothin’ Mr. Choi.” You move your thumbs to rub as the back of his neck, gentler than you treated his shoulders. 

“Y’know, if you keep callin' me Mr. Choi, I might just have to marry you.” He grins a little at the way you squeak in shock. 

“You haven’t even taken me out to dinner yet and yer already proposin’?” You watch as Seungcheol sits up straight and rolls his head and shoulders, sighing in content at the relief he feels. 

“My mother calls my father Mr. Choi, they’ve been married forty years now.” You couldn’t tell if he was joking anymore about the marriage thing as he spun around in his office chair to look up at you. 

“What?” You look down at your outfit to see if there was anything he was staring at as a minute of silence passed by with him just looking at you. 

“You should be on the cover of Vogue instead of in some place like this.” His fingers twitch on his lap as he finally lets his eyes wander farther than your face, but not for long as he’s looking back up into your eyes. Something about the way he held eye contact had your knees feeling weak.  He didn’t look at you like you were a piece of meat but rather that you were the finest chocolates from À la Mère de Famille. 

“I’m not a model sir.” You shrug as you begin to feel shy, something you haven’t felt around a man in a long time. “Besides, I like it here. The workers are hot and the atmosphere is calmin’.”

“The workers?” He raises his eyebrow in a pouting manner. “What ‘bout the owner?”

“Oh, he’s more than hot but you didn’t hear that from me.” You wink, giggling quietly at the way his pout turns to a smirk. 

“Is that so? 'Nother rumor, I suppose.”

“Starting to think it’s not a rumor.” You hum quietly, rocking on your heels a little. 

“Are there any other rumors you wanna prove to be true, darlin’?” He leans back in his chair and manspreads as he props his chin on his hand that’s resting on the armrest. 

“Mm, not rumors per say.” You take an experimental step forward. “More of personal speculation.” 

“Speculation?” He watches you like a hawk, his eyes darkening the closer you get. 

“Can I touch you?” You whisper when you finally stand between his open knees. 

“Fuck…” He groans quietly at the idea. “Thought you’d never ask, darlin’.” He nods his head, giving you approval to touch him. 

Seungcheols adam’s apple bobs a little as he swallows, your fingers lighting a fire under his skin everywhere they ghost. You trailed your fingers up his knees and over his thighs before your palms begin to lay flat against his stomach. When you dig your fingers into the fabric of his dress shirt, Seungcheol flexed, the feeling of you tugging on it gently causes his resolve to crumble. 

“Can I touch you?” It’s his turn to ask as his hands moved to grip at his armrests tightly. 

“‘Course sir,” you whisper as you lean in closer, the scent of your soap filling his senses as his hands move to grab the back of your thighs so he can yank you to sit in his lap in one solid movement. 

“Tell me to stop.” He mumbles as his hands travel up your back so he can pull you closer to his body. 

“Don’t want you to stop.” You mumble as you lean closer to him, your hands leaving his stomach so you can drape your arms over his shoulders. 

“Tell me when then.” He lets you lean in first to kiss and once your lips are on his, he’s spinning his chair around so he can press you against the edge of his desk. Smiling into the kiss you begin to rock and roll your hips in a way that has him hissing and groaning as he pulls away from the kiss.

“You got the hips of a dancer.” He groans at how expertly you moved your lower body against his as he kisses down your cheek and to your neck, something no one has really done before. The time he took kissing and mapping out every inch of your neck until he found your sweet spot had you whining. 

“Told Gyu I was one,” You moan for the first time and it takes everything in Seungcheol to not slam you down on his desk to hear more of your pretty sounds. “Could show you what I got.”

“'Nother day.” He groans as he nips at the sensitive skin behind your ear before pulling away to look you in the eyes. Again the eye contact had your stomach flipping as you swallow the moan in your throat. “God…” He groans, his eyes closing as his hands on your back grip your shirt tightly. 

“Am I a god now  baby?”

“I’ll fuckin' worship you like one.” He growls when you push your hips down harder, the desire growing in every inch of your body as you bite your lip and watch him through hooded eyes. 

“Mmm~” You lean your head back and close your eyes in pleasure when Seungcheol finally grips your hips and grinds up into you. “Fuck daddy.” The name slips off your tongue like the old habit it was, men in America would fall to their knees when the word left your plush lips. 

In the blink of an eye, Seungcheol hoists you up to lay you flat on top of his desk so he can stand between your legs. His pupils were completely blown now, but you were sure yours were too as your thighs squeeze around his hips and he loosens the tie he had on and unbuttons the top buttons of his dress shirt. 

“I’m gonna fuck you till you can’t walk outta here, darlin’.”

“You did say you could bruise my hips daddy, hope you weren’t lyin’.” He haphazardly rolls his sleeves up past his elbows before he’s diving down to kiss you again, this time a lot harsher than the first. 

Moaning into his mouth, you tangle your fingers in his dark hair and tug it when he nips your tongue. All he does is smirk into the kiss and without letting up for much air ,he makes work on undoing his pants in the little room that’s between your bodies. 

You tug his hair hard enough for him to pull away, his eyes half open as he groans at the delicious sting on his scalp. When you let go of his dark locks he stands up straight again so he can push his dress pants down his thighs and make work on tugging your panties off from under the skirt you had on. 

“Tell me where you want me to finish.” He mumbles as he lets his hands travel up your thighs to slowly push your skirt up until it was resting on your stomach. His eyes stared you down like you were an art piece in the Louvre as his hands continued up your body till they were squeezing your boobs through the tanktop you were wearing. 

“Inside.” You could see his cock twitch behind his boxer briefs as his eyes snap up to look at you. 

“You sure darlin’? What ‘bout a kid?” He didn’t seem too nervous about having a kid with you but he was nervous that you might regret it. 

“I’m on the pill.”

“The pill?”

“Yeah, it’s what some of the girls back home would call their birth control.” Your hands reach out to grab the ends of Sungcheol’s dress shirt to try and tug him towards you again, the cold air hitting your exposed pussy making the desire grow even more in you. “Not too sure ‘bout it yet though, haven't had unprotected sex since startin' it but I guess we’ll see if ya knock me up tonight.” 

Seungcheol just smirks at your words and he opens his mouth to make some cheeky little comment but you sit up enough to grab his hair and yank him down to kiss him - shutting him up effectively and kickstarting his gears again as he pushes his hips against yours. The heat of your bare cunt makes his cock twitch more as he groans into the kiss that’s turned a little sloppy but that's just the way you like it as you grind your hips up against his, urging him to finally fuck you. 

“You’re so warm.” He almost whines when he pulls away from the kiss to breathe as he pushes his boxers down enough for his cock to smack up against his stomach. Your mouth waters at the sight and your core pulses at the thought of being filled up more than you’ve ever been. 

“'Nd your big.” You breathe out as he runs the tip of his cock through your folds, letting it nudge against your clit a couple times as he gets all nice and coated in your juices before he’s slipping further down where your entrance greedily sucks him in without much work from him. 

“Fuck.” His hands grip the edge of the desk by your head as his eyes roll a little at how you squeeze around him. It was a familiar feeling but one he hasn’t felt in a long time and he can say with ease that it’s never felt this good before and he’s barely bottomed out. 

“Move please.” You beg, the feeling of being split open made your brain go fuzzy and your mouth fill with drool as you choke on a moan when he slowly slides out till just the tip sits in your entrance. Just when you went to complain about him leaving you empty, he’s slamming back into you, jostling his desk and knocking the papers down that you had stacked up. “Fuck!” Your voice was high pitched and whiny as he definitely set a bruising pace early on. 

“That’s it, take it doll,” He groans into your ear as he kisses and nips at your cheek and ear. “So good.” He moves one of his hands to trail down your side where it rests on your hip. 

Your voice got lost in your throat as all you could do was moan and whimper a pathetic “Yes daddy,” every few seconds and every time you said it Seungcheol would find a new angle to make you say it louder and he’d accompany it with a smack to the side of your ass cheek - and when he felt like that side had enough attention hed switch to the other side. 

“You’re getting tighter baby.” He moans instead of groans this time which causes you to squeeze around his cock tighter, the sound sending shockwaves through your body. 

“So good~” You moan as you claw at his shoulders and scalp which draws more moans from him as he feels his orgasm approaching like a freight train. 

“Oh fuck.” His hips stutter a little as he digs his nails into your hip to keep a grip on you as he quite literally fucks you into his desk. 

“Right there daddy, fuck.” You gasp and lean your head back and bite your lip, your orgasm right there. “Daddy!” You squeal when he angles his hips up a little and hits your g-spot with precision, which finally draws you over the edge. 

The force of your orgasm pulls Seungcheol over the edge with you as he groans your name lowly into your ear followed by gentle kisses to the side of your head as he continues to fuck his cum into you until both of your orgasms have been ridden out. Slowly he manages to pull himself from your grasp as he hisses at the loss of your warmth wrapping around him. 

Pride swelled in Seungcheol’s chest as he looked down at your worn out state, your hair was a mess and little love bites adorn your neck like a necklace. The cherry on top of everything though was the way his cum seeped out of your weeping cunt and it has his cock twitching again. 

“Still think I belong on Vogue?”  You mumble a little shyly as you looked at the way he was just staring at you as you slowly sit up. When you hissed quietly he was quick to jump forward and help you. 

“I’ll always think that,” He smiles as he picks your panties up from where he dropped them and helped you slip them on while you were still sitting on his desk. “You’re gorgeous, doll.”

“Well I feel like I belong on Playboy,” You roll your eyes playfully at your own little joke towards yourself before you're smiling up at Seungcheol as you reach forward to fix his shirt as he tucks himself back into his boxers and pants. “And thank you, you're not too bad yourself sir.” He makes a little noise at the title. 

“What’s Playboy?” He mumbles as he rubs soothingly at your hips while slowly helping you off his desk where you stand on wobbly legs. 

“I’ll explain it later.” You giggle quietly before your stomach interrupts by rumbling. “I’m hungry now.” 

“Sure it’s not a baby in there?” You laugh at him while smacking his side. 

“Don’t jinx it or I’ll never get to have that threesome you promised me.” You joked playfully. 

“Oh we’ll still have that threesome, darlin’.” He grabs his coat to drape it over your shoulders as he helps you walk to the door of his office. “But I don’t take too kind to sharin’ what’s mine.”

“Does that mean I’m yours?” He shrugs as he looks down at you. 

“Are ya?” You try to hide your smile by biting your lip as you walk ahead of him down the stairs. 

“Maybe I am.” You finally hum as you turn to look at him once you made it to the bottom of the stairs. “Does that mean you’re mine?”

“Maybe it does.” He smiles at you as he stops directly in front of you and grabs your hips to pull you against his body. “Never felt like this for someone so quick, like hell I’d let you go.” He mumbles before he’s kissing you gently, one of his hands moving up to cup the side of your face as your hands cup the sides of his neck gently. 

“Well,” Mingyu’s voice was laced in a pout as he opened the door of the club, his arms full of bags. “Havin’ fun without me? I’m hurt.”

“Great timing, Gyu.” Seungcheol mumbles against your lips with a huff. You giggle quietly and pull away from Seungcheol completely to go and try and help Mingyu with what he was carrying. If it wasn’t for the look Seungcheol gave him he would’ve fought you harder to do it all himself. 

“Did you get all your ingredients for lunch?” You hum as you follow the tall male into the kitchen, where he directs where to put the stuff you were holding. 

“Yeah, the market wasn’t that packed yet thankfully, but it also meant I wasn’t as gone as long as I thought.” He turns his head to look at you over his shoulder with a sheepish grin. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be, we had plenty of time.” You snort at the way he almost fell when he whipped around to face you fully. “I’m hungry though so I’ll tell you the details later.”

“Deal, guess I gotta make a heavier lunch to make up for all the energy you two burnt.” He goes back to putting the groceries away, leaving you to wander back into the main room of the club where you expected Seungcheol to be but it was empty. Huffing quietly you sit at the bar and squeak a little at the feeling of your thighs becoming wet from the mess Seunghceol left in your panties. 

“Sorry, I had to go grab somethin' from my office.” Seungcheol joins you in sitting down not even a minute after you had sat down. 

“What is it?” You question curiously as he sets a small box in front of you. 

“A welcome gift, was gonna give it to you Friday, but guess you were right about seein' you sooner.” He smiles as you happily open the box only to close the lid quickly and slid it back towards him.

“No.”

“No?” He tried to not sound hurt.

“That looks too expensive.” He seemed to be a little relieved at this answer. 

“Don’t worry 'bout my money doll, besides you’re worth it.” He opens the box himself and pulls the little bottle of Chanel N°5 perfume. He opens the cap and gently grabs your wrist so he can spray a little bit onto it. 

“I’ve never heard of Chanel.” You mumble as you bring your wrist up to smell the perfume and you almost sigh at how good it smells. 

“Everyone is gonna know Chanel after they meet you.” He mumbles as he carefully puts the cap back on and puts it back in the box for you. 

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Cheol.” You look at him with raised eyebrows.

“You can call me Cheol when it’s just us and Gyu, and maybe Chan but he might tease me for it so try to refrain if you can.” He sighs quietly at the younger male’s antics. 

“Ok Cheol.” You smile, loving the taste of his nickname on your tongue and Seungcheol seemed to like it just as much as his adam’s apple bobs. 

“Ok love birds, try to not fuck on the bar please, don’t have time to disinfect it all.” Mingyu barges through the back door just as Seungcheol had leaned in to kiss you. 

“It’s my bar, Gyu.” Seungcheol glares at him as he sits up straight. 

“Not while I’m here, friend.” He laughs as he grabs three glasses so he could pour you all drinks. 

“Was thinking of making gochujang garlic noodles with some bulgogi and kimchi on the side.” Mingyu hands you your glass.

“That sounds amazing, I haven’t had kimchi and bulgogi since the night before I left.” You take a small sip of your whiskey, the warmth filling your body.

“You’ve had those things before?” Seunghceol looks at you curiously while he takes a sip of his alcohol. 

“Yeah, my neighbor was Korean and she’d cook all the time for me.” You give him a smile as you take another sip. 

“She even knows a little Korean!” Mingyu chirps up as he goes back to the kitchen with his glass of plain cranberry juice. 

“You do!?” He looks ecstatic as he jumps in to quizzing you on all the words you know while also teaching you a couple of his own favorite words while you two wait for Mingyu to finish cooking you lunch.

feedback + reblogs greatly appreciated, especially if you enjoyed the fic!

[barrenclan]

What kind of characters or dynamics would you like to see more often in WC fanworks/OCs? Your characters are pretty unique in their backstories and dynamics with others, so I'd like to hear your thoughts.

Well thank you! I suppose I'd like to see more people willing to push the boundaries of the series, rather than relying on the tropes, plotlines, and character types that come directly from the book. I think Warriors fancomics are at their most effective when they use the book only as a framework to move within, and it also helps avoid picking up the worst traits of the book (hackneyed plots, sexism, racism, nonsensical motivations, etc., take your pick).

I think, perhaps, some fans of Warrior Cats need to read books other than Warrior Cats and similar YA xenofiction, and that will help them develop a better literary diet and write more unique characters, if you like the ones I create.

Doe of Deadwood is a phenomenal comic, and one of the direct inspirations for me making comics at all. Highly recommend!

[oh-no-its-bird]

recently, i've started to see things where tobirama is reincarnated as sakura or is sakura's "inner", which is really interesting. could i get your take on this?

Unfortunatley I don't actually know much ab Sakura's inner! I learned naruto lore via fanfiction (never actually touched any canon media, oops) and have only actually read like 3 Sakura centric ones, I straight up didn't even know Sakura had a multiple personality(?) thing going for her till a few months ago (and boy wasn't that a surprise)

I think Tobirama being reincarnated as her could be p fun!! But also I think I'd be more interested in telling a story where he just straight up reincarnated as someone not existing in canon, if only bc then he could also interact WITH Sakura instead of just being her

I find that a lot of stories that try to give Sakura agency just kind of toss her entire character out the window and start from scratch, which is fun and valid! But it's more fun for me to make direct, uncomfortable eyecontact w canon her and find increasingly stupid or chaotic ways to fast track that whole "character development" thing or at least find ways to explain why she's Like That(tm)

So yeah I don't have toooo much interest in Tobirama reincarnating as specifically Sakura or her inner, but I could be into a story where he just reincarnates in proximity to her and then see how they bounce off of eachother. Maybe as a sibling? That could be cool

If he's born a girl we can zap em with the trans beam on top of the body dismorphia of suddenly being a whole child, that could be interesting. The blatant sexism of naruto canon could also make for an interesting plotline if we want to actually get into that

I kind of like the idea of him not actually remembering his previous life, at least not in full. Maybe he has weird dreams sometimes, maybe he looks at photos of the Nidaime and gets weird feelings of dejavu.

I suddenly have a very specific mental image of him getting a scar on his cheek, where one of his tattoos used to be, and just staring in a mirror afterwards at this super weird feeling of dejavu mixed w a sensation of it not being right mixed w just general body dismorphia and aw fuck why does he feel like he's both a little more right and further from himself than he's ever been?

Anyways would he be born younger or older than Sakura? Older brother him is just super overprotective, often suffering from nightmares of sensing as Sakura and some unnamed "other sibling" of his dies. It could also mean he can interact with Itachi actually, maybe they can be emotionally stunted baby genius friends or smthn

But younger sibling him could make for a surprisingly compelling parallel with Sakura and Hashirama! Especially w how Sakura later goes on to train with Tsunade n stuff

Part of me wants to say he's still names Tobirama for simplicitys sake, he can just be named after the Nidaime or smthn. But also that feels a bit cheap even if it is easier, so at least for now we'll name him Tora

Him and cat Tora can square off for name rights idk

Tora speaking oddly formally for a civilian, and having the kind of respect for your elders that come from being a second son in an elder run clan in ancient Japan. He has an awful time trying to form emotional attachments with people, including but especially his parents, who for some reason never really felt like his

But also him having a super easy time being attached to his new little sister Sakura, who he refuses to see anything bad happen to ever

So Tora and Sakura's parents being like suuper traditional, which is why Sakura is Like That when it comes to boys (she's constantly being told she needs to find a man to take care of her) Tora acts as a good figure and role model in her life, so while she's still interested in romance like canon she isn't AS boy crazy and can do a bit of thinking for herself.

And then we can get some fun conflict between Tora and his parents, who unfortunatley don't get the whole trans thing and constantly insist he needs to either drop the shinobi thing and find a husband, or if he does keep going at the shinobi thing, use it to find a husband there then drop it

Yeah he's not doing either of those things.

(they find out he's friends w the Uchiha clan heir and immediatley get weird about it, all glowing with pride that he's "attracting such good potential husbands" n stuff (Tora is PISSED))

Anyways Tora being just alarmingly good at literally any jutsu Tobirama invented. Like, ALARMINGLY good. He has that first life muscle memory, which unfortunatley is NOT a valid alibi and he's about to get his ass beat for seeming to have reverse engineered secret jutsus he shouldn't be able to know.

It isn't HIS fault that just glancing at the flying thunder god technique that one time was apparently enough for him to instinctively understand how to use it!!! Maybe this "Tobirama" guy should have just been better at making his jutsu harder to understand, this is clearly not his fault

He manages to help avoid the Uchiha massacre by being friends with Itachi, the two of them both graduating early and at the same ages, joining the same team and then ANBU together and so on.

Tora being really strong and graduating early and all that only further motivating Sakura to be a super strong shinobi, just like her big brother! Maybe she and Sasuke can even bond or have met earlier through Itachi and Tora's friendship.

Sakura and Sasuke childhood friends agreeing to try and graduate early together just like their older siblings. Not really into sasusaku but Ill say Sakura can keep her crush on him but be actually normal about it via exposure plus maybe some boy advice from Tora (he's a shinobi, so if you really want to charm him, you'll have to beat him first)

She can maybe lose it with time (and exposure to him being a dumb cringe fail kid w his brother still around) and maybe go kiss Ino idk

Anyways, Tora and Itachi friendship. Shisui is also there!! (Love that guy)

They're dynamic is just emotionally suppressed bastard (thinks hes better than you) + emotionally suppressed bastard (knows hes better than you) + upbeat guy smiling at you as he holds a gun to your head

Shisui and Tora take turns driving the car as Itachi sits in the back seat peacefully eating some applesauce (he's just happy to be here)

They're gonna blow up the hokage tower for the good of the people 👍

They're on an ANBU team w Kakashi and Tenzo and forget about going grey, they're gonna make Kakashi's hair straight up fall out from the stress

Maybe Tora can move out of his parents house the first chance he gets, and then whatever place he manages to find can be a little safe place for Itachi. Itachi accidentally ends up almost moving in w him as things at home get worse and worse w the coup. He just stays over more and more and doesn't want to return home

Circling back to the "Tora instinctivley knows how to navigate Tobirama's seals/techniques" the most terrifying point of the story is when he sees Naruto's jinchuriki seal and realizes he knows how to mess with it

Uh oh!! Shouldn't have that information!!

Anyways take some doodles

(Danzo is "that jackass who won't let me look at the nidaime's old research" and Tora has a GRUDGE.)

[specialagentartemis]

Something always fascinating to me is the "character who thinks they're in a different genre" phenomenon. The theme of the story you are telling determines what the right and wrong actions to take are; but the characters, reacting in-universe to the situation, don't know what story they're in, and the exact same responses can be what saves you or damns you depending on what kind of story the author is telling and what the story's message is about what life is like.

In Wolf 359, Warren Kepler approaches the mysterious and powerful aliens with threats; he kills their liaison and tries to position himself as a powerful opponent. However, he's shown to be wrong and making things worse: his preemptive aggression is unwarranted and unhelpful and bites him in the ass. The aliens want to communicate and understand humanity and share our music. It's Doug Eiffel, the pacifistic (and kind of scaredy-cat) communications officer who loves to talk and share pop culture, who talks to them and understands that the aliens are scary not because they want to kill us but because they don't understand the concepts of individuals and death. Talking to them, communicating with them, understanding where they're coming from and and bringing them to understand a human point of view, is what succeeds. Openness rather than suspicion, trust rather than aggression. Kepler thinks he's a dramatic space marine protecting the Earth from the alien threat by showing them humans are tough and can take them, but that's not the kind of story this is.

Conversely, in Janus Descending, Chel is in awe of the strange and beautiful alien world around her. She wants to touch it, understand it, get up close to it. When she sees a crystal alien dog, she wants to befriend it, despite Peter's warning. But when she gets close to it, extending her arm in greeting, it attacks her and drags her down into the cave to try to eat her. This sets the inevitable tragedy in motion. Suspicion is warranted; trust will get you killed. Because this is a sci-fi horror, with a major running thematic reading about how racism and sexism will destroy your brain and your society, and how the people who think they're too smart to be prejudiced don't see their own prejudice and will end up ruining the lives of the people they still don't fully see as equals, this kind of trust that Chel shows this strange alien is tragic. However it is also a horror story where there are very real hibernating space snakes ready to wake up and eat the fresh meat that has landed on their planet, and by being too trusting Chel has accidentally introduced herself to one.

Kepler, suspicious and ready to shoot any alien he doesn't understand, would likely have survived Janus Descending; Chel, with her enthusiasm for learning about and meeting aliens, would have been a wonderful and helpful member of the Wolf 359 crew.

In a similar manner, in Alien, Ellen Ripley yells to the rest of her crew not to bring the attacked crewmember with the alien on his face back on the ship and into the medical bay, you don't know what contamination that thing might have; she's ignored. She tells them not to let the crewmember out of quarantine even though he seems fine; she's ignored again. Ripley is the one person protesting this isn't safe, we don't know what's going on, and she is consistently ignored, until an alien bursts out of her crewmate's chest and then eats everyone and Ripley is proven to be right and also the only survivor. (And it turns out that the science officer consistently overriding her protests was an android sent by the company that contracted them, and said android was given orders to bring the alien back so the company could study it and do weapons development with it, try not to let the crew find out about it, and kill them if he had to in order to do so!)

Ripley's paranoia and mistrust of the situation was correct, because Alien is a space horror and the theme is in space no one can hear you scream (also corporations consider you expendable).

Conversely, in All Systems Red, we have a damaged and almost-combat-overridden Murderbot being brought back into the PreservationAux hab medical bay after being attacked by other SecUnits. Gurathin becomes the one person protesting this isn't safe, we don't know what's going on, he doesn't want to let Murderbot out because it's hacked and probably sabotaging them for the company contracted their security and sent it with them. Gurathin thinks he is the Ellen Ripley here! He is trying to warn his teammates not to make a dangerous mistake that will get everyone killed!

However, All Systems Red is a very different story than Alien, and Murderbot is neither a traitor on behalf of the company to sabotage them and steal alien remnants for weapons development, nor a threat to the humans - it's a friend, it's a good person, and it wants to help them against both companies willing to screw them over. Trusting it and helping it is the right thing to do and is what saves their lives. Gurathin is proven to be wrong.

If everyone on the Nostromo crew had listened to Ellen Ripley, they would still be alive (except Kane. RIP Kane), because this is a horror story about being isolated and hunted and going up against this horrifying thing that wants to kill and eat you and just keeps getting stronger. If everyone on the PreservationAux team listened to Gurathin, they would all be dead, because this is a story about friendship and teamwork and trust and overcoming trauma and accepting the personhood of someone very different from you.

Same responses. Different context. And so very different moral conclusions.

Warren Kepler was about how the brash violent over-confident approach to things you don't understand is wrong, and that openness and developing that understanding between people is what's important; Chel was about the tragedy of trust destroying a Black woman who wanted so much to believe in a world that could be kind and beautiful. Ripley was about a woman whose expertise and safety warnings were ignored and brushed aside and everyone who did so died because of it; Gurathin was about how even justified fear shouldn't mean you make someone else a scapegoat and mistrust them because they seem scary.

Sometimes you're in the wrong genre because you need to be, because the author is trying to show how not to react to the situation they set up in order to build the mood and the theme they're trying to convey.

[danytherelentless]

A Heartfelt Goodbye

Eddard Stark x fem!reader

summary: after his wife's recent passing, Lord Stark is looking for a governess to raise his children

warnings! smut, cunniligus, p in v, pre-marital sex (big deal in Westeros), asoiaf typical sexism (if you squint)

word count: 3k

note: please forgive me if there are any mistakes or it appears a little disjointed, the editing was shaky at best

It was more than a year after the loss of his wife that he decided to take on a governess for his children.

He had refused marriage so soon after, and did not think he would ever take a wife again, and had not wanted to have a governess raise his children for it felt an insult to Cat, yet Maester Luwin had been advising him that his children would need such guidance in their lives, especially with them all being so young, and Eddard had finally relented.

He mulled over the options of Northern ladies for some time before deciding upon you. He'd never met you before, but he had known your father, brothers and some of your cousins. Your father had been one of his greatest and truest advisors during Robert's Rebellion, your elder brother one of his friends as well, and he remembers hearing much of you then, though you'd been younger at the time. Patient, caring and wise as a child. Surely you remained so as an adult? You were also unmarried which meant you had no other obligations nor children of your own to tend to. So he sent the letter to your Lord father asking if you would be suited and able to fill such a position in his household.

He received response soon enough and it was settled upon that you would be arriving to Winterfell within the next few weeks.

Your smile was the first thing he noticed upon meeting you, a kind and gentle thing which warmed him to you almost immediately.

"My Lord," you greeted with a curtsy after you had dismounted to stand next to your father and brother who had led you here.

"My Lady. I am thankful you have taken upon this position."

"It is a great honour, my lord. One I hope I shall be able to fulfil."

Robb was the most reluctant of his children to you, though that was expected and understandable as the eldest. His youngest three, however, were instantly enamoured with you, even baby Bran. But it was Jon which made him realise you were perfect for the role whom you treated well as any of his other children.

It took some time of course for the new dynamic to settle, for you to become comfortable with his children and vise-versa, but eventually, even Robb warmed to you. Even Ned himself found that he enjoyed your company. You had to ability to always make him feel at ease or give him the perfect advice for whatever situation he was put in.

He began to fall for you, which felt inevitable given how lovely you were. But he could not help the vicious guilt which he felt. It felt wrong, no matter how much time passed since Cat's passing, it still felt like a great insult to her memory, and to your own honour, though he never acted on his own feelings.

At least not until Robert called upon him when Balon Greyjoy rebelled against the crown.

He sat in the Godswood, the night before he would leave in contemplation. Many of his bannerman had gathered already at Winterfell with more on their way straight to White Harbour. He did not want to die so soon, though that was something he expected just as he had during Robert's Rebellion when he rode away from Riverrun, yet this time it felt so much closer to him. He couldn't bare the thought of Robb being made Lord so young, of his grief. Of the struggle and strife which he would face and the deceit he would no doubt face in spite of his youth. The idea of his little lady Sansa, or his wild little she-wolf Arya not remembering his face as they grew. Of baby Bram not having so much as a memory of him to place to his name.

He thought of you, of never seeing you again, of never confessing the feelings held within his heart. Though his guilt remained to an extent not as it once had, the idea of never getting to tell you made his heart ache something fierce. It overwhelmed any guilt he was feeling.

"My lord," your voice snapped him from his glum pondering.

"My lady. The hour is quite late, the air cold," he could barely see you in the darkness, the only light emitting from the lantern in your hand and the one sitting near his feet.

"I was worried for you," you confessed.

It was a normal thing to worry about. He was beneath no assumption that you felt the same as he, but he knew that you viewed him as a friend for you often spent hours drinking, exchanging stories and laughing well into late evenings together. So much so that he’d had to quietly had to expel rumours amongst the staff to the best of his ability, hoping you had not heard of them. He knew that it was a sign of the impropriety of your relationship, but he just couldn’t bring himself to stop.

"I'll be back soon enough," he found himself reassuring you.

He watches as you walk closer to him, "may I sit?"

"Of course," he spoke embarrassingly quickly.

You took your seat on the tangled roots at his side, shivering slightly as you burrowed closer into your cloak.

"You really shouldn't be out here, my lady. You may catch a chill," he voiced his concern.

"And neither should you. What sort of a friend would I be if I allowed you to wallow out here all alone?" there was teasing in your voice. He found a smile growing across his face.

He looked to you then. You looked truly beautiful in the low light of the flickering lanterns, shadows cast across your face. You seemed quite sad, though he could see a longing in your eyes has he stared at you.

He felt something get trapped in his throat, unable to say anything as he looked upon you. There was a vulnerability which always clung to you, in the way you smiled so freely, the way you spoke so kindly and could be so forgiving. He saw that in you now. Something raw. He craved it, craved you, craved you near him, in his arms. He felt a stirring in the pit of his stomach.

He craved you, completely and utterly. Entirely vulnerable, bare flesh beneath him, moaning for him. His name, not his title, he loved it when you said his name. Not Eddard, just Ned. He wanted to hear it. Now.

He kissed you instead, a hand on your cheek pulling you close to him. Regret flooded him immediately.

"I'm so sorry," he apologised, pulling away, yanking his hand from your flesh, suddenly feeling quite sick. Barely a moment of your lips on his, so sweet and true. The taste turned to ash on his tongue, however.

"That was dishonourable of me, my lady. Forgive me please. I lost myself."

"No," you grabbed at his forearm and moved closer, you leg leaning into his own, "I... I don't mind."

He looks to you then, a goddess at his side. Meant to be worshipped. It was fitting you were both sat beneath a Weirwood tree.

He feels your delicate hand upon his bearded jaw and he allows you to pull him to you, eyes closing as your lips are joined with his.

He can tell you're inexperienced, but he relishes in it. It has been so long since he'd had any company, and he wanted this. With the thought of possible death so close, he could hardly deny himself you, especially if you wanted him too.

He part from you, breathless, "I want you."

He hadn't quite meant to just blurt it out so bluntly, but can't bring himself to want to take it back. It is his truth, after all. And in this moment, it would be wrong for him to not tell you.

You seem shocked for a moment.

"I want you too," you admitted.

His heart stops for a split second before he crashes his mouth back on yours, your tongues tangling together in some dance.

He kisses you for what feels like hours before he remembers you are out in the cold, and then he guides you back to the keep and to your chambers. The walk is silent and you bump into no one, though guards trail you both outside the keep and through some of the hallways.

He is about to part ways with you and leave for his own when you grab his wrist.

"Wait. Why don't you join me?"

Your cheeks are beautifully flushed, and he can hardly refuse such a welcome invitation, though his honour is screaming at him to stop. His desires simply win over, he is a weak man for you.

He undresses you slowly, pulling away your cloak, helping you unlace your dress as you exchange kisses. You help him with his own layers, and soon you are both bare as the day you were born. He looks upon your beauty, across your smooth skin, your breasts, the mound of hair between your legs. He feels his mouth water. He would turn you around and simply sit gazing upon your naked flesh for hours, studying you like a tome of history.

He lays you down upon furs and kisses down your neck, sucking a bruise some too dark into the flesh which he may regret some the next day should he notice, yet he cannot help himself as he listens to your sweet sighs and feels were hands caressing his arms then his chest.

His lips continue down your body, sucking and licking at your breasts and listening to the melodic sounds you bless him with, hands pawing at your thighs as he further parts them. He kisses down you stomach, beneath your bellybutton and then your naval, before finding his place between your legs, eyes upon your cunt, so close to him and oh so delectable.

"What are you..." your sentence is broken by a surprised and quiet moan as his tongue parts your folds and tastes your sweetness. He licks and sucks at you observing each reaction from his place which he could. Every twitch which you body made and every sound which left your lips. Ned took one of your thighs in his hold and brought it up over his shoulder. His nose is buried in the mount of hair above your cunt as he sucks on that bundle he knows will have you see stars.

You moan and gasp, legs tensing around his head and fingers tugging at his dark hair. He cannot help but groan into you, grinding down into your sheets to attempt to relieve the ache in his cock. He resists the urge to fist his cock in hand by instead pushing a finger inside of you, curling it upwards to feel that spongy spot. You are tight and warm and so so wet. He savors every moment of it.

He curls a second finger inside of you, listening to you high keening whimpers and stretches you wider, and then a third.

"Ned!" your fingers tighten and tug harshly at his hair, and his eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels your body tensing as you climax on his fingers. He licks some of it up before he finds himself too impatient to see your face again. He hopes he will be able to do this again so that he may taste you for longer.

You are worn, face etched with sweet ecstasy. He kisses you with your own taste on his tongue, an action which should disgust you, yet you answer with fervour, a laziness to your motions. You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him into you, deepening the kiss even further till your tongue is again in his mouth.

One of your arms caresses down his body as your lips part, your eyes hooded, breathing erratic. Your hand trails over his hip before it wraps around his hard cock.

He thrusts forwards as your fist closes around his tip, jerking downwards experimentally. He wraps his own hand over you guiding it up and down as he would his own in the privacy of his own chambers on lonely nights.

He guides himself within your hand to your cunt, nudging it over your nub, toward your sopping hole.

The thought suddenly hit him hard and fast. So suddenly he jerked back slightly from your touch.

"What... what is it?" you looked concerned, eyes wide, braided hair mussed.

"I shouldn't be doing this, it's wrong." It was dishonourable and an insult to such a fine lady as yourself for him to be debasing you so. You weren't married, after all. Not yet, he thought. He could see you at his side as his wife. But you were not his wife now, and you may never be his wife.

"No, no, no! Please, take me," eyes blown wide, cheeks flushed and chest heaving with each breath you take as you tug him down so gently, "if you'll have me?" His chest clenched at such tender words.

With you begging him so sweetly, he could not resist, though there was a part of him still demanding he stop now, for this was wrong. Yet it was drowned by his raging desire which he had harboured for for so long.

He takes his position once more over you, between your thighs, and pushes himself inside of you slowly and carefully. His eyes nearly roll to the back of his skull at feeling such pleasure, and he nearly thrusts into you as a wild man would, but he resists easily enough for he knew it would cause you harm. He listened as you groaned and your face tugged into a discomforted expression, he felt himself stopping then, ready to pull out should you change you mind.

"Just slowly. Be gentle with me, please," your hands grabbed onto his shoulders, you knees farther parting to allow him better access.

He moves his hips so slowly at first, thrusts shallow and experimental, before his lips captured yours in a passionate flurry of movements. You were so warm, so wet. He knew you were most likely a virgin, a lady such as yourself. That thought only made his feel more hungry for you.

His movements continued as a slow and steady pace, before you whined prettily into his mouth and grabbed at his hip.

"You can move more," you spoke, breathless as he parted from you.

He obliged, building up his pace, pulling one of your legs up and around his waist as his thrusts became deeper and faster with each moan that left you mouth.

He could not tear his eyes away from you, from your sweat slick brow, your squeezed shut eyes and 'o' parted lips. He felt his own release build, but wanted you to finish at least once more for him, so he brought one hand between you and felt for you nub and began to rub at it, listening and watching your reaction as to what was best.

You tightened further around him, legs squeezing at his sides as you came for a second time. He could no sooner hold onto himself and buried his face in your neck and lost himself to you, thrusting without abandon as he chased after his own climax.

He came with a low groan, sucking kisses into your neck, filling you with his seed so deeply that for a moment, he prayed it would take, the thought of seeing you with child so tantalising.

He stayed within you for a few moments, perhaps even minutes, catching his breath and listening to yours.

He presses a tender kiss to your brow before pulling his softened cock from you with a wince. He was unable to look away as he sat up and eventually saw some of jus seed dribble out of you. He had to supress a groan.

"I'm sorry," he eventually broke the silence.

"Whatever for?"

He looked back at you, a goddess much to perfect for someone such as himself, worth more than ten of him, "for dishonouring you, my lady. I would have wed you before bedding you, yet I have not."

"I don't expect you to wed me, my lord," you admitted.

"Please don't call me that now. I have no right to any title after the disservice I have given you," for even thinking of getting her with child.

"You haven't. I wanted to be with you, just as much. I hope you don't think any less of me for it."

"No, I do not."

"Then we are simply two friends having a long and heartfelt goodbye," your smile is sad and small, not one of any joy or happiness.

"Is that all you view me as? Your friend?" he found himself speaking before he could stop, pulling on his underclothes.

"No, no. I... I feel for you. In my heart. I..." you paused and he looked at you, "I have come to love you, Ned. For not only the just and honourable Lord which you are, but for the loving father, and kind man. I enjoy the companionship you have offered me in the time which I have known you, and I have desired more of you for some time now."

He found himself dropping his breeches from hand and returning to your bed where you sat looking at him.

"It is fine should you not feel the same--"

"I do," he interrupted, bringing his hand to your cheek, "I love you."

You leaned into him, smile broadening across your face.

"I will wed you upon my return, my lady. I swear it to you."

He kisses you once more, a deep and long kiss filled with his love, before dressing and bidding you goodnight, feeling wrong to leave you after you had shared something so intimate with him.

Despite himself, despite leaving for war and having bedded you, confessed his love and swore to marry you though he may not even live to see you again after tomorrow, he sleeps well and peacefully that night.

He wed you the same day of his return.

comments are looked upon fondly here so don't be a stranger ;)

(please no negativity, my heart can't take it. I am a delicate soul)

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Dogs

Hildur Knutsdottir: submitted for the approval of the midnight society, i call this the tale of the night guest Knutsdottir: its about a woman who gets a full night's sleep so you would think she would be well rested (she's not) Knutsdottir: it's almost like something is possessing her while she sleeps (something is)

Knutsdottir: this possession Knutsdottir: you might think it's the yule lads (it's not the yule lads) Knutsdottir: or maybe grylla (its not grylla) Knutsdottir: perhaps its the hidden people (its not the hidden people)

Knutsdottir: now this woman also has a dead sister Knutsdottir: so you would think maybe the ghost of her dead sister is possessing her King: Poe: Lovecraft: Koontz: Barker: King: um King: was there supposed to be a parenthetical there Knutsdottir: not saying

Knutsdottir: now of course when this woman has weird sleep problems, you would of course take advantage of our socialized medical system to see a doctor (she does this) Knutsdottir: but even socialized medicine is not free from the scourge of sexism (there's a lot of it) Angela Carter: yes yes this scans

Knutsdottir: anyway that's the Icelandic socialized medicine system for you Dan Simmons: why do you have to bring politics into this? Simmons: i just want a nice apolitical scary story Knutsdottir: ok i'll fast forward to the cat murders Lovecraft: WHAT

Knutsdottir: yeah someone's been killing cats (it's her) which you wouldn't expect (she loves cats) Lovecraft: i can't listen to this! Lovecraft: i can tolerate rac- Barker: we know howard you say that everytime Lovecraft: it's my catch phrase! Barker: no it's not!

Knutsdottir: every night she walks across the city (to the harbor) Knutsdottir: now you think she might be visiting Bæjarins Beztu Pylsur (but she's not) Cynthia Pelayo: aw that hot dog ain't no good! King: what? hot dog? Knutsdottir: you're entitled to your opinion (it's actually the best in the city)

Pelayo: what dya even put on a hot dog over there? King: why are we talking about hot dogs? Knutsdottir: með öllu Pelayo: pfft! með öllu indeed! Pelayo: ya don't even know what you're getting!

Pelayo: i tell you, you want a hot dog, you get it CHICAGO STYLE Pelayo: mustard, chopped onion, pickle spears, sport peppers Pelayo: YEAH! CHICAGO STRONG, BABY!!! Pelayo: GO BEARS OR MAYBE WHITE SOX!!!

Knutsdottir: no no see a hot dog should have remolaði sauce (and apple ketchup) Pelayo: wtf! the only sauce that goes on a dog is mustard Knutsdottir: WHAT?! like the infidel bill Clinton?! (he ordered with only mustard during his 2004 visit) Knutsdottir: NEVER!!! Knutsdottir: it's með öllu!!! always með öllu!!!

Lovecraft: now i prefer my sausages providence style Barker: no you don't Barker: that's not even a thing Lovecraft: no it is! its when you put a Vienna sausage on a slice of white bread Barker: howard, we all know you don't eat ethnic food

Pelayo: who's ready for mouth watering hot dogs?? Lovecraft: ah sausages! Pelayo: Hebrew national hot dogs! Lovecraft: Lovecraft: [sweats]

[jesncin]

The Potential of Asian Lois Lane. Pt 1: Girl Taking Over and American Alien, a comparative analysis

Lois Lane has had many iterations over the years. But specifically in the last decade, Lois has been reimagined as an Asian American woman in both the comics and recently in the animated show My Adventures with Superman.

I believe making Lois Asian is a very inspired choice for the Superman mythos! I would like to take a moment to analyze these versions of Lois from an Asian perspective, seeing what works, what doesn't, and what I'd like to see more of. We'll start with the comics first, as MAWS is going to need its own post.

Usual disclaimers: I'm just one Asian perspective, I do not and never will claim to cover every Asian person's opinion on a thing ever. We're not a monolith, we come from a variety of backgrounds and experiences. I'm simply a fan who enjoys media analysis and believes it's valuable to have my perspective in this topic. Secondly, this discussion covers the comic run American Alien, which is written by Max Landis. He's an ultra creep and while I think the comic is worth a read for what it is, I leave it up to you whether you'd like to buy the comic. You can always arg-arg-ahoy otherwise.

I'd like to start with Girl Taking Over: A Lois Lane Story written by Sarah Kuhn with art by Arielle Jovellanos. This is a self contained YA graphic novel about a young Japanese American Lois dealing with the ups and downs of breaking into journalism as a career in National City. When her dream internship at Catco gets a corporate take over, Lois seizes an opportunity to write an exposé on a shady art director. But when her story is turned down, Lois does some out of the box things to get the story of marginalized performers shared with the world.

Girl Taking Over is a fantastic story and I happily recommend it to anyone looking for how an Asian American Lois could be reimagined (with fabulous art by Arielle! The fashion especially is on-point). This story isn't just a diverse coat of paint on a Lois Lane story, being Asian informs Lois' experiences and choices. Both she and her frenemy roommate Miki, are ambitious Asian women yet have hidden insecurities where they still made themselves small to their respective white male bosses. They played into model minority in different ways, and it's only by working together that they're able to foster a community for their stories to be told.

Lois and Miki don't just "have a diverse friend group", that friend group is actively being taken advantage of and suppressed by white gatekeepers. By extension, Lois' friends from work find solidarity in each other. Lois looks up to Cat Grant, a Filipina-American journalist, because seeing Cat succeed made Lois feel like her dream as a journalist is possible. I love how Lois' mom (a character so rarely expanded on in DC canon) acts as a voice of comfort for Lois in the story. All these characters feel holistic and whole, going through their own unique struggles.

It's clear from interviews with both the writer and artist that they care for the history of Lois, and saw an opportunity to reimagine her in a way that aligns with her character but also revitalizes her for new readers of color who aren't used to seeing themselves reflected in media. It's taking Lois' ambition and fearlessness and channeling them into the need to be a model minority, and the insecurities that can come from the desire to succeed constantly. It's taking a character historically frustrated by sexism and disrespected by her male peers- including Clark Kent (who got better treatment than her as a man), and expanding her to be a Lois that has to deal with both sexism and racism in the workplace. It's humanizing Lois' excellence into something painfully specific and relatable for many Asian women.

The only thing I feel I want from this version of Lois is... honestly more of her! I want to see what Japanese Lois does when she moves to Metropolis and works at the Daily Planet. I want to see how her experiences in National City informs her adulthood. Girl Taking Over sets up an incredible groundwork for stories to be told in the Superman mythos. How would Lois react to Superman, a fellow immigrant? Would Superman see himself in Lois? Since she's someone who, in the American context, is perceived as the perpetual foreigner? What would their relationship be like? Out of all the Asian Lois' in media we have so far, this Asian Lois' story has the most rich potential in my opinion.

Up next, we have American Alien written by Max Landis. This 7 issue series swaps artists for each issue, as a means of reflecting different milestones in Clark's life. I will be focusing on issues #4, 5, and 7 since those have the most prominent Lois appearances. With that, I'd like to celebrate the artists for those issues: Jae Lee (issue 4), Francis Manapul (issue 5), and Jock (issue 7). All these artists did a fantastic job, their art styles are energetic and fun to look at. Lee and Manapul are both Asian artists (Korean and Filipino respectively) and I love how they draw Lois- who looks undeniably Asian in their art styles.

American Alien is a modern take on the Superman tale. It expands Clark's story to be connected to Batman, Green Lanterns, Green Arrow, and more. We see Clark grow from his days in Smallville to a city boy in Metropolis, coming into his own as Superman. It's a bold and pretty divisive take with some standout story moments. From what I know, this is likely the first time Lois has been reimagined as Asian- and continues to influence Superman media like MAWS (the producer specifically calls out this comic as inspiration).

In issue #4, Clark moves in to his Metropolis apartment and talks on the phone to his mom about "some bigshot guy named Louis Lane". The reader, likely familiar with the Superman mythos, knows Clark is coming in with biases and a preconceived notion of who he considers a promising student reporter. Once we meet Lois Lane however, the comic turns the reader's expectations on their head:

Lois Lane is an Asian American woman (it's not specified what her exact ethnicity is)! This is a fun moment where the comic metatextually challenged the reader's own biases, showing it's not just Clark who had a different idea of who Lois Lane could be.

Lois' introductory panel is my personal favorite part of her characterization in American Alien. Lois proudly stands as a wall of text behind her recounts how she was considered as a winner for the Daily Planet's Charlton Memorial Laureate Program. When asked why she deserves a place on the program, Lois snaps back that the very question itself is loaded. She's listed her credentials and looks professional- so she's either already been rejected and is just being made to "at least had my say" or she's been accepted and is "meant to garnish my success with eloquent affirmation" to which Lois refuses to do either.

This is a great defiant introduction to Lois, showcasing how jaded she is with the way the world perceives her- but is very confident in her self worth as a journalist. By the end of the issue she reaches out to Clark to combine their exclusive interviews into one story to make a big impression on the news. Her words inspire Clark to seize an opportunity to make a big change in the world as Superman.

Afterwards, the comic plays the classic Superman and Lois dynamic straight. Lois is initially suspicious of Superman, but eventually comes around and is inspired to hope through him. There's a great back and forth between the two where Lois' words initially inspire Clark to be Superman, then Clark assures Lois that Superman is probably just a good guy, and when Clark loses hope from a bad day of heroism, Lois gives him hope again. In the end, Lois realizes her love for Clark Kent over Superman and they share a passionate ending kiss.

Overall American Alien nails the Clark and Lois dynamic and understands their relationship. I consider this Asian Lois "just okay". I like that we get to see an adult jaded Asian Lois meet Clark Kent and Superman, and see them get together. Similarly to Girl Taking Over, I'd like to see how this Lois and Clark would play out. My only issue with American Alien's Lois is a sense of missed opportunities.

The writing overall leaves room for plausible deniability over Lois' Asian identity. The artists (particularly Lee and Manapul) are doing the heavy lifting delivering Asian Lois. If she was drawn as a white woman, none of the writing would need adjustment. Sure her introductory panel implies that people judge her based on her appearance- but that could be just sexism instead of the intersectional experience of Asian Lois going through racism and sexism. Clark did assume she was a man after all- it's never specified if he assumed she was a white man. The only thing you'd lose is the metatextual shock value of Lois Being Asian This Time. That's really what this Lois boils down to, initial shock value with no specific writing to follow through. Her marginalization and identity is written broadly enough that it could be attributed to general sexism and womanhood. It's not specific to being an Asian American woman.

However, because of its broadness, there's room for Lois' Asian identity to be built on in the world of American Alien. The story centers Clark's experiences, but I can easily imagine a continuation of the story expanding on Lois'. The basic groundwork is there. I think it's telling that in a comic called American Alien, we get a more diverse Superman cast system. Jimmy Olsen is Black, Lois Lane is Asian- when Clark moves to the city it feels expansive compared to Smallville. It's a world that feels ready to tackle themes of racism if it was ever to continue (and probably in the hands of a writer with that kind of life experience!). In the end, there's room for this Asian Lois to be something special. Clark isn't the only American Alien in American Alien, if you catch my drift.

You can see how Girl Taking Over has a huge piece of what American Alien is missing. The characters aren't just diverse for shock value, they're not an aesthetic change over historically white characters. They have a story to tell that is inseparable from their identities. Whereas in American Alien, the art is doing the heavy lifting with the reimagined diverse characters- Girl Taking Over has both the writing and art carry the representation. Lois can't be changed into being white in Girl Taking Over.

Both of these stories have potential- but if I had the choice to pick which story should continue, it would easily be Girl Taking Over. This graphic novel works for what it is: it makes sense that this is a younger and idealistic Lois that hasn't met Clark or Superman yet. It's a YA book and Lois can absolutely carry a story on her own. What I want as an Asian fan, is for the potential of Asian Lois Lane to be seen through to the point it's considered the definitive version. As of right now, Girl Taking Over is a fun twist on the Lois Lane story. Not something that is seen as inseparable from the Superman mythos. However! If those themes of marginalization and immigrant identity are tapped into for both Superman and Lois Lane? I feel that has the potential to radically strengthen the overall themes of Superman. It's certainly been touched on before.

(TW/CW: racial slur mention in below image)

Superman Smashes the Klan by Gene Yang with art by Gurihiru is a retelling of the Clan of the Fiery Cross arc in the classic radio show The Adventures of Superman where Superman faces off with the Klan who had been terrorizing a Chinese American family. The graphic novel adapts the story to center the Chinese American characters, and makes it a point to show that Superman relates to them. If that dynamic was applied to Asian Lois, that feels like a definitive love story waiting to happen.

The classic two person love triangle with Clark and Lois is that Lois loves Superman and is indifferent to Clark Kent. She thinks Superman is this ideal macho man and Clark is a cowardly fumbling guy at work who rivals her. What happens when you take that dynamic and made it so Lois identified with Superman- the more othering identity? How complicated would that make Clark Kent feel? How would he navigate that when his marginalization isn't always visible? That's a whole new depth to the love triangle we're not used to seeing. I feel so far, none of these versions of Lois have touched upon this potential dynamic. The perpetual foreigner, Lois Lane and the ultimate alien foreigner that is Superman. The jaded city girl meets the alien farm boy who gives her hope. They inspire each other to be more of themselves in a world not ready to accept either of them.

Up next, we'll be discussing My Adventures with Superman's Korean Lois Lane in pt 2. It's well. You can probably guess how I feel about it from what I wrote here but welp. We'll talk about it.