#so it being like only explored in one issue and then picked up again in fucking. battle for the cowl and Robin

[hellodropbear]

like she used to (IV)

alexia putellas x sister chapter I, II, III

sorry this took longer! have been very busy with work and uni for the past few days :)

~~~~~~

Aitana has been suspicious of something all week. I feel her eyes on me during training, when we're in the locker room, as she drives me home and as I walk up to my front door.

But she doesn't say anything and I am grateful. Because if she did say something, I don't think I would be able to answer without telling her every single thing on my mind.

Nobody wants that. Not me, not Aitana. Probably not Alexia either.

So instead, I sit in the midfielder's car quietly, only speaking when she prompts me to, although even that has slowed down over the past few days. She was confused the first time I told her I didn't want to stop for ice cream, and I was grateful that she didn't ask again.

"you're sure? You've never refused ice cream before, lena!"

All I could do was shake my head, keeping my eyes focused on the road ahead.

I get home and I go straight to my room which is easy enough, considering Mami comes home from work late. I am supposed to be going to school, but Aitana doesn't know that and Mami doesn't know any different. She thinks I am there, and as long as I pick up the phone to my personal tutor in the evening, the school won't bother contacting my mother.

I shouldn't be skipping school, but I can't face going there and being asked all those questions about how great it is to be training in the first team, to finally have broken through into a squad that I would hopefully play with for most of my career.

But it isn't great, not really. My life has become a game of hide and seek, escaping rooms that my sister enters, too afraid to even face her.

I am not scared of her, more of what she will say. I am barely coping as it is and anything she says will just make it worse. It is best to just leave her alone, keep my distance.

And I think she thinks the same. She said she was going to take a step back, after all.

Not that is has been any different from before she took that step back. Her back was already against the wall, on the other side of the room from me. Any further and she would leave my life completely which does not seem possible, considering we play for the same club.

But I wish she wasn't so far away, I wish that I could just reach out and grab her attention, for her to know that I needed help without even having to ask.

And it hurts me, more than I'd like to admit, that her friends know exactly how to make me feel better, to make me feel valued, worthy. But she is just there, like a fly on the wall, always watching but never doing anything.

Even the more clueless ones have started to realise that things are not perfect between me and Alexia. We are never in the same room together, I leave training with Aitana every day. It is obvious, we all know it.

So they don't push us together. They don't talk about Alexia to me and they don't ask why we don't drive home together, why she isn't the first person to give me a hug if I score in training.

They don't want me to be compared to her any more than I already have been.

Because on top of all the personal issues, there is a lot of pressure, being her sister.

'Will Elena Putellas follow in her sister's footsteps?'

'The younger Putellas - set to be better than Alexia Putellas, but still hasn't come off the Barcelona bench.'

I've seen the articles, of course I have. Nobody ever mentions it though, nobody mentions the pressure I am under, the pressure I feel to live up to the expectations.

Of course I will not score as many goals as her, of course I will not make a debut at the end of the match like a midfielder often does. It is a lot harder for a centre back to come on as a last minute sub. It is harder for a centre back to score so many goals.

There are feasible reasons why they are saying these things, but none of the news sites think to explore those reasons, exclusively focusing on the negatives.

I don't bring it up because I think that if I mention something even slightly about my emotions, every single thing I feel will all come rushing out, a tsunami wave that will destroy everything I have worked towards.

I have to be strong; I can't let a little bit of pressure overcome me. Alexia had pressure, and she was never swallowed by it.

Alexia was not weak. I can not be weak.

But it feels like the tide has been pulled back, brewing in the deep dark depths of the ocean, preparing to build and build and build until it all becomes too much, until it is here, a huge wave ready to swallow me. Too late to escape, too late to stop it.

But quelling the wave does not seem like something I can do.

The only thing I can do about it is play my piano.

It is thing I am most grateful for, my piano that brings me closer to my father, the one thing I have that nobody else does.

I may not have his memories, but I don't think any memories could match the connection I feel, just sitting on his stool, my fingers dancing on the keys that his hands once graced, the keys that we used to play together.

It was the one thing that we shared, just the two of us. Something that neither of my sisters or my Mami could understand. All they know is to leave me be when I am playing the piano. I don't want to be interrupted and they don't want to face the wrath of my anger if I am stopped before I am finished.

Because it is the only way I can express my emotions and the emotions do not stop coming until the song is finished, until there is a puddle of tears in my lap, fed by the streams that track down my cheeks.

So they leave me be. I want them to leave me with my emotions when I play the piano. But they also leave me with my emotions when I sit in the lounge room, staring at a blank tv screen, staring out the window at just about nothing in particular. I wish they would realise that I don't always want to be left with my emotions.

I wish they could notice that something may be wrong, something more than just the loss of my sister.

Because it feels like more than that. I have never felt so lost in my life.

There is just so much going through my mind at any one time and I can't let it out because once I start I will not be able to stop until my walls have burst and I am nothing but an empty shell of who I was before.

Everything I once was is gone.

Replaced by confusion, hurt, sadness.

And I don't know why, because Alexia isn't all of me, football isn't all of me.

I know it shouldn't be but it feels like it is and even though Alba is right there as well, and Mami and my friends from La Masia, all I can think of is the fact that my older sister doesn't want to be my older sister any more.

And I can't stop thinking about what it could be like, if it was still what it used to be.

~~~~~~

I spend another two weeks wallowing in my confusingly overwhelming emotions before Mapi decides to intervene, intercepting me as I walk towards Aitana after training once again.

"No, you are coming with me today, pequena!"

I didn't even realise Mapi was here, her rehab finishes at the same time as Alexia, an hour before training ends.

She beams and throws her arm over my shoulder, ignoring my disgruntled expression.

"I will see you tomorrow, ABC." I murmer softly, but both Spaniards can hear it.

They both think I am too short to see the concerned look they throw at each other, but I notice it. I notice everything.

Mapi guides me out of the facilities and into her car and I can feel her concern grow as she inspects me from the drivers seat.

"You are not ok, Elena."

Her words are soft but understanding. It surprises me how she could just pick it up like that, I thought it was less obvious.

I thought it was less obvious because nobody has brought it up to me before.

I shake my head, not trusting myself to say anything without crying, although at this point it feels inevitable.

"That's ok. It's ok to not be ok, you know?"

I nod and she continues.

"When you came over the other week, I told you to talk to someone, but I don't think you have, have you?"

I continue my vow of silence by shaking my head, my eyes concentrated on how my hands shake and fidget in my lap.

I am too concentrated on my hands to realise that my eyes have filled with tears, to realise that the first one has slipped out. I only notice when the fat tear lands with a splat on my thumb and I stare at it, my mind full of confusion and unfamiliarity.

I don't understand how I feel, because I feel sad, and angry. They are normal emotions, ones that I have always felt, just usually in a less aggressive and persistent way.

But I feel so... lost, isolated. I feel alone and that is something I am not familiar with, not at all. Usually, I would talk to Alexia about my anger and sadness, but this has been going on for so long, slowly chipping away at my self-confidence, at my happiness. Now all I can feel is the loss of someone. Someone so important.

I may be dramatic, but how else would I describe it? She decided she was too busy and threw me away, a piece of rubbish. How am I supposed to cope with the fact that it's all I am to Alexia?

We used to be so strong as a family, we were always there for each other, nobody left behind. But I can't help but feel like I have been, just a bit.

Mami and Alba love me, Mami and Alba are proud of me. But Mami gets home after I go to bed and Alba has her own life, her own friends. She doesn't need to be pulled back by her little sister who has lost the ability to deal with her own emotions.

It would not be fair for me to pile my problems with Alexia onto Alba. It would not be fair to make her pick a side.

Alexia could be the person that helps me. We have similar schedules, interests, personalities. She knew me like the back of her hand and I knew her equally as well. But I don't think I have ever felt so disconnected from her.

Mapi snaps me out of my daydreaming when she speaks again.

"It is not healthy to keep everything inside of you, pequena, so we are going to the beach and we are talking. I am going to force it out of you because I miss my bright little best friend."

She reaches over and wipes the tears from my eyes, awkwardly pulling me into a hug.

"Everything is going to be ok. You are going to be ok, Elena Putellas, because you have me."

I nod, leaning back into my chair and using my palms to wipe my eyes as Mapi turns the car on and begins to drive out of the carpark.

"Thank you, Mapi." It is a whisper, but she hears me loud and clear, offering me a watery smile before focusing her attention right back onto the road ahead.

The car is quiet as we drive to the beach, Mapi just humming along to her song.

Mapi has always been a big talker. She always says she finds silences uncomfortable and sometimes even slightly overwhelming, so she talks. She talks and talks at a speed that makes it practically impossible to register what she is saying, and the inability to comprehend her spoken thoughts is only heightened by the way she jumps from topic to topic, her voice only increasing in speed and excitement as she gets more and more carried away.

But she is Mapi, and Mapi always talks, so I got used to it, finding her chattiness endearing, she was fun, always happy.

Which is why it is so meaningful when she isn't speaking, like she knows that her words are fruitless and likely not particularly tasteful - they won't be received well.

She is silent as we walk down to the beach and as she lays her rug and pillows out, sitting down and motioning for me to sit down next to her.

She is quiet for a few moments, like she is debating within herself on what she should say and when she should say it, captivated by the way he waves crash onto the sand cyclically, the beaming rays of sun showering the crystal water, the first indicators of the imminent sunset.

When she speaks, it is slow and it is quiet. Her words hug me in a way that has been missed for so long, and I immediately soften; she would have noticed my shoulders relaxing underneath her arm.

"I remember when I first met you." Her eyes are closed and a soft smile rests on her face. "It was before I even joined Barcelona, at my third camp with Spain. I had heard about you before, from Alexia, I knew so much about you from how much she would gush about everything you did every time I spoke to her. In person, over text, she was obsessed with you and sometimes I didn't understand why it seemed like all she spoke about was her little 5 year old sister."

She chuckles, but I stay silent, still staring out at the ocean.

"But then I met you and I immediately understood why she wouldn't stop talking about you. You radiated this happiness, like a little sunbeam. Alexia got you from the barricade after a match, it was only my second ever appearance, but Alexia brought you right over to me and introduced us. You grabbed onto my leg and held it, almost yelling about how cool it was that there was another player to meet."

I smile. I have never heard this story before.

"And then the next time, you recognised me and I was so surprised, so happy. But you were also happy, Elena, you always were smiling, laughing. You would hang from your sisters shoulders and whack her on the back, swinging around in her arms and laughing so loudly that we could hear you from the other side of the pitch. You were always like that, every time I saw you. I found myself looking forward to spain camps even more, because I got to see little Elena Putellas with her big smile and cheeky personality. But recently, I think you have lost a bit of your spark because you do not seem as happy. You seem miserable, lena, and I want to help you find that spark again because I promise, it is not gone forever. It has just been buried so deep by all these emotions that are so big and overwhelming and you can't even find who you are anymore."

Her words strike a cord, and I find that my eyes fill with tears once more, but I do everything I do to hold them back as I speak. There is a long moment of silence as we both look out at the waves before I break it with a quiet inhalation.

"I am so scared, Mapi." My voice breaks but I continue anyway. "I don't know who I am anymore and it is so scary. I don't know what happened or where I went but one day I woke up and I was just a miserable shell of the person I was and I don't know what to do."

She is quick to pull me into a hug as the tears start falling because we both know that once I let out the first cry, I will not be able to stop. Her soft hands through my hair and calm words that flow through the small space we occupy will do nothing to calm the turmoil I am feeling on the inside.

Thinking about it only makes it worse, like I am shaking everything up so it rises to the surface instead of letting it lay undisturbed deep inside of me.

But Mapi's words were like stepping into a turbulent plane, shaking uncontrollably, fear falling over me and triggering emotions that I didn't even realise I had inside of me. The dirt hazes up the water until everything is a big whirlwind of confusion. Emotions moving around to quickly to capture them and try to understand them.

The things I want caught up in the whirlwind of unwelcome mess, the whirlwind that I can't seem to get myself out of.

The injured centre back whispers calm words of affirmation into my ear for a while, her hand stroking up and down my back. It keeps me down to earth, does not let me fall into the trap of a million emotions.

"We will find who you are again, Elena. I will always be here to help you. I am right here."

I want to tell her that I want my sisters to be there to help me. I want Alexia to come back and I want Alba to realise that there is something wrong. But neither of them were there like Mapi is. Alba has tried to be there for me, but she doesn't get it because I don't know what to say.

But all I do is cry in her arms. The sobs soften into quiet whimpers as the sun sets, casting a yellow glow over the beach, but we stay there even as the air becomes cooler and the sky becomes darker.

Mapi decides that I will not be going home that night, not trusting me to take proper care of herself and instead taking me back to her apartment again.

Ingrid is there this time, and she looks at her girlfriend with concern when we walk in, immediately noticing my red face and puffy eyes.

"Hey, Elena." She smiled at me, but I was preoccupied by the little black cat that had begun to circle my legs.

"We had a chat on the beach and decided that because her Mami isn't home, she would stay here the night again."

I picked up Bagheera, tickling under her chin as I sat down on the sofa, trying to ignore the wary glances that were being sent in my direction by the Spaniard and Norwegian.

"I don't know what to do."

Mapi's words were hushed, and by the way she immediately spoke more quietly when she saw my head whip towards them, it is clear that they were not for my ears.

But as I fiddle with Bagheera's fur, I dissect her words. More than I should and definitely more than she wants me to.

She doesn't know what to do with me. She doesn't know how to help, how to fix what has been broken.

She doesn't know whether she should talk to Alexia because it would break my trust. Because telling Alexia could just make it all so much worse.

I think I have been holding onto hope that she really is that clueless and is trying to do what she thinks is best for me. I try to hope that is the reason this has all happened, and not because she simply has forgotten about me, or because she doesn't want to be responsible for me any more.

But honestly, I think it is a mix of all of that. And I think it has evolved from guilt, not watching my games, wanting to avoid the awkward conversations that could have arisen if she had apologised to me.

I wish she knew that an apology would make all the difference. A sincere one, from her heart.

Unprovoked. Just her, being truly apologetic.

Because as humiliating as it is, I would do anything to be back in her arms. I would do anything to have my older sister back, I wish that she would just do something that would make this all go away, to pick up the pieces of my shattered insides and stitch them back together. Eventually, the stitches would dissolve, I would forget all about them and I would be able to function normally again.

But Alexia is not a surgeon, and she would not be able to do that stitching seamlessly. She would use glue, but even that won't put it all back together so perfectly.

There is no way for her to just put it back together and pretend it never happened, to move on like this was just a blip. Because I am different now, I have grown. She has missed so much of my early teenage years - the years that I have most needed her help.

But I am not even sure that Alexia wants that any more; I don't know if she wants to fix this all up and move on.

The dinner table is quiet as I pick at my meal, Mapi encouraging me to eat more than a few bites, claiming she won't leave until my plate has been cleaned up.

Ingrid doesn't utter a single word, instead her green eyes piercing through my skin. I feel exposed to Ingrid, as if she can read everything, understand everything, just from one simple glance.

It is ridiculous, but she is deep in thought so I don't say anything to her either.

It is only when Mapi opens her mouth again that Ingrid's eyes flick over to her girlfriend.

"Does Alba know you feel like this? Or your Mami?"

It is a simple question, but strikes a chord.

No, neither of them know. Neither of them have even noticed a change.

I shake my head roughly, and Ingrid releases a scoff.

I look up, offended.

"What?"

She turns her head to me, confused, so I continue.

"It is not my fault! It is not easy to talk about these things."

"No, no. Elena, that was not directed at you."

She seems apologetic so I have to believe her. I push my chair back, attempting to leave the room with a clutter, cursing my misty eyes for what feels like the millionth time that day.

But me exit is not as seamless as I would have liked, and Mapi is standing right in front of me when I get up, wrapping her arms around me.

It is supposed to be to trap me, but Mapi's arms will never not be a comfort.

I immediately relax into her grip, sighing softly.

"I am so confused."

~~~~~~

Mapi's hands were running through my hair, my lap on the sofa as the tv played that evening. It had been an hour since dinner and the three of us had moved into the lounge room, the silence being filled by the Spanish show on the screen.

But there was a knock on the door and Ingrid sighed, standing up to open it, knowing that neither Mapi or I would get up.

It was both surprising and unsurprising to see Aitana standing there, her hair messy and over of her face, as if she had just been in bed.

"Is Mapi still awake?"

She didn't bother to greet Ingrid, clearly here for a reason. Why else would she have arrived at almost 11 at night.

I couldn't hear Ingrid's response, but I could hear Mapi speaking to me.

"She's worried about you too, Elena. You-"

I love Aitana, I always have.

"I know she is, she is terrible at hiding it. But she has avoided bringing it up. If she wanted me to talk to her I would try my best to, but she hasn't."

Again, I love Aitana and I know she has my best interests at heart. She knows I need to talk about everything to someone, but she also knows that I don't want to. She doesn't want to push even though I can tell she is worried. She is stressed.

Ingrid and Aitana enter as soon as I finish speaking, the Spaniard almost running to where I am lying, placing her hand on my cheek.

"You have been crying."

It is blunt, a bit surprising. I don't really know what to expect from Aitana, she has always been the light hearted one who never would shy from telling me how great I was, but we have never really spoken about melancholy emotions like these.

I suppose there has never really been a need to in the past, that is what Alexia and Alba were for.

She sits down on the floor in front of my face, her knees up to her chest as she stares at me, intensity in her eyes. It is not unlike the intensity she often displays on the pitch, motivated and passionate.

"I will help you." She is decisive. "We will fix this."

I nod softly and she runs her hand down my cheek.

"You are too young to be feeling like this, little Lena. I am sorry I let it get this far."

I look at her in confusion and she pauses before continuing.

"I knew something was wrong. I went to your games at La Masia."

I can tell Mapi is listening closer now.

"I know she didn't go to any."

Mapi gasps, quite loudly, and Aitana gives her a frustrated look, rolling her eyes softly.

"I should have said something to her. She doesn't realise how important you are, how lucky she is to have you."

I frown at her words.

"Lucky?"

It hasn't something I'd ever considered my sisters to be, having to look after a small child for most of their adolescence. Having to please me for so long.

"I used to dream of having a baby sister like you, she is lucky."

Mapi decides it is her turn to add something to the conversation.

"She loves you, Elena, she always has. Of course she thought she was lucky. She needed someone to help her pick on Alba."

There is suddenly a lump in my throat. I think it is the mention of the before that triggered it. The memories are too hard to handle, I usually avoid them at all costs.

My eyes become wet again, apparently, but Aitana just laughs softly.

"You two were just so mean to her, the poor thing."

Mapi lets out a chuckle from above me as well, and I find my mouth turning upwards into a smile.

"I probably should apologise now, shouldn't I?"

Aitana shakes her head, not able to hold back her laughs and Mapi is the same from where I can not see her.

It is when I finally laughed that I feel Mapi soften beneath me and see Aitana exhale a soft sigh of relief. They thought I wouldn't notice, but I did. I notice everything.

"We will fix this, ok?" Aitana was somewhat serious again, her hand patting my face. "We have a day off tomorrow, I will be here and we can all talk. We can all decide what to do next."

"Why are you two doing all this for me?"

Aitana sighs and Mapi's hands pause in my hair.

The midfielder looks above me, as if encouraging her to reply, but I speak up again before she can.

"Alexia is your captain, your teammate. She is your best friend, Mapi. Why are you doing so much for me when we are not speaking?"

There is another pause. It looks like Aitana is about to hit Mapi on the head, but the Spaniard speaks up before she can.

"Alexia has so many people behind her. Alexia is strong, she is experienced and she is older than you. You are just young, pequena and you are so lonely and lost. We want to help the both of you, but we need to help you first."

She pauses and Aitana finds the time to interject. It is like they have been talking about me.

Come to think of it, they probably have.

"You looked like you were going to burst. We knew that you and Alexia weren't speaking, that both of you were having a hard time because of it. But Elena, you looked destroyed. We couldn't leave you to your own devices any more. And Elena, we are doing this because we love you. So, so much."

"Alexia loves you too. More than us. She just does not do a great job of showing it, that's all."

I sigh softly, falling backwards into Mapi's lap, wondering just what I have done to deserve this.

How luckyI am to have my older sisters friends there looking out for me.

Because my family was falling apart and it was my fault. I couldn't do everything alone.

I choose not to think about what would happen if Mapi and Aitana weren't here like they are.

A tear slips down my face again, but this time it is not so sad. It is full of emotion, a grateful tear. Not quite happy, but not sad either.

"Thank you."

~~~~~~

hope you enjoyed :)

this chapter was more to gauge where elena is at, sorry if it was boring!

[clearnachopirate]

Terry and the batfam. Terry and the batfam. their dynamics have so much potential and i would LOVE to see it explored in any way at all

Terry and Dick: older brothers, trade stories of how they embarrass and get back at their younger brother(s), anger issue twins, "oh you were batman too??" "yeah, but its only bc one of my parents was murdered" "omg thats how i became robin no way"

Terry and Jason: the second most destructive duo, second only to terry and steph. not bc they fight or blow things up on patrol (thats tim and jasons thing) but bc anytime there a new gadget to try, terry will volunteer to use it, and jason will volunteer to 'spar' with terry to test it out. okay, maybe its bc they fight and blow stuff up, but its only ever in the batcave under supervision! "the tim from my dimension actually killed the joker" "no shit? did bruce stop me over there too?" "... about that--" sometimes they grab the others leather jacket by accident and both have given up on caring

Terry and Tim: terry "from the technological future" mcginnis and tim "designs loads of bat tech" drake talk shop, "my younger brother was made robin without my consent" club. tim listens to the works elcectro pop music ever and it just so happens to sound exactly like what they play at terrys favorite club. tim introduces him to (kon or bernard, take your pick) and they hit it off so well that they hang out without tim

Terry and Damian: ace the dog. terry invited damian to his AC island. both are bruce's bio kids and mamas boys. damian calling him "Terrance" and terry never recovering from it. terry knows damian from the future, kind of, and uses that knowledge to his advantage EVERY DAY

Terry and Duke: team "everyone thinks we're the normal one, they are wrong" they totally do movie marathons you cant tell me otherwise, their favorite thing to do is make bets abt the rest of the fam w cass. they never win against her. on any given day you can find them whispering about everyone else "duke, why the fuck were damian and tim staring each other down over breakfast" "hes mad dick said he can't poison him again" "what" "i know i thought they were over it by now"

Terry and Cass: cass sees him for the first time and sees that he rivals tim and dick in terms of being a mess and is determined to bond. terry hears about what she was trained for as a child and shrugs bc "i was supposed to be a second bruce, things change" cass will make him give her piggybacks when shes tired and terry has never dropped her

Terry and Stephanie: the most destructive duo. something happens to their braincells when they patrol together, buildings fall, bones break, civilians are crying, theres about ten minutes where everyone else thinks theyre both dead. they both are waiting at the cave for the others, terry is teching her how to make really shitty friendship bracelets (dana taught him, and stephanie is pretending she doesnt know how). they dont know why everyone else is so stressed "i texted you that we were fine, old man. steph and i just ran into black masks trafficing ring and took care of it-- why is dick crying?"

ALL of them have asked about the future before and the ONLY thing he ever reveals is out of context sayings and trends "yeah actually luigi and bowser have so much chemistry, well, i guess that movie isnt out yet huh" "???" (they think luigi and bowser are a cononical couple in the future and wonder where the world went so wrong) and (while interrogating smon) "watch out, you're not acting like the sigma you are, batman, try rizzing 'im up, then he'll talk."

him and bart meet (everyone tried to keep in from happening) and theyre from similar enough futures that when they talk, not a single person around them can follow it, they teach each other the different versions of different tik tok dances and terry goes back to the manor and teches them to steph, cass sees them do it once and has them memorized, duke thought it was funny, dick thought it was adorable (eventually they ALL know them, and it becomes an inside joke) tims prized possession is a video he got of damian doing the most dispassionate renegade the world has ever seen bc jon asked and he cant say no to him)

TL;DR:

terry mcginnis interacting w the other bat kids has a lot of potential for chaos and family bonding

[dailyjasontodd]

Hi! Would you say that jason characterization in his titan tower attack vs tim is ooc?

sorta yeah though i could see the reasoning (like damn Jason was right about being mad idgaf) and it wasn't totally ooc for him to go check out what Tim was like, the execution was bad imo. mostly because this came out around the same time utrh was on going and the difference in how the writers handled Jason was very notable, i wish winick would've written that scenario to see how it would fit with the utrh narrative that was going on simultaneously

[highvern]

Silk

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genre: smut, friends to lovers, established relationship

Warnings: weed mention, alcohol mention, moments of self-doubt/insecurity, oral (f. receiving), fingering, boyfriend Mingyu, making out, hickies, mentions of frat!svt, grinding, panty/pussy job, cumshot, first time together, mentions of previous partners, not seeing heaven pt II!

Length: ~4.3k

Note: another Drunk Goggles installment! this is probably gonna be the last one for a while tbh. im working on something new for my gamer boy husband wonwoo as we speak. "adamas et aurum" was written to balance the depravity that takes place.

MDNI! 18+ ONLY

read more here

Mingyu doesn’t recall the details of the first time he saw you naked. At least what your nude body actually looked like. He remembers it being at his frat’s mountain weekend junior year, that one of the other guys brought you as their date, and how Mingyu’s then girlfriend had broken up with him that morning when he came to pick her up to leave for the cabin. The second he arrived he holed up in his assigned room upstairs, listening as people arrived throughout the day from under the covers.

When he finally came down, he stumbled into an already out of hand game Truth or Dare thanks to Hoshi and his liberal drink pours. Everyone was laughing wildly, DK’s shirt was wrapped around his head, and Joshua looked like he had just taken a shower fully clothed.

“I dare you to go skinny dipping in the lake.”

Everyone knew about Jun’s crush on you so the dare just made Mingyu roll his eyes as he grabbed a beer and walked out onto the porch overlooking the water, hoping to drown his sorrows in the bottom of the bong he brought with him. 

You had never been one to back down, so it was no suprise Mingyu was watching you sprint down the steps towards the lake, discarded clothes fluttering to the ground behind you. He caught sight of your bare rear seconds before you hit the surface with a splash, and that was that.

All in all, Mingyu doesn’t remember much about it.

But the first time Mingyu sees you naked as the girl he’s dating, he’s tempted to grab his phone and document the occasion so he can relive the moment again and again. 

He hadn’t planned for anything to happen tonight beyond the nice dinner he treated you to followed by a stroll downtown. When he walked you to your door to kiss you goodnight, you invited him in. Mingyu thought it was because you didn’t want to end the night yet, happy to oblige you’re desire to prolong his company. 

You’d confessed to each other almost a month ago, and in that time Mingyu tried to be nothing less than a gentleman. Most of his behavior is ingrained in him already: holding open the car door for you, walking on the outside of the sidewalk, getting you the same small bouquet of wildflowers you love from Ms. Kwon every Saturday. All of it as easy as breathing due to his innate drive to care for those who mean the most to him.

Other less appropriate behavior, reserved for you and only you, fights tooth and nail to claw its way out of the most depraved parts of his mind.

The first time you made out, he barely stopped himself from flipping over to pin you against the couch and have his wicked way with you. When he felt you up in the back of his car at the drive in for the first time like a desperate teenager, he had to actually bite his tongue to keep from ripping your shirt off and exploring everything underneath. The few times you’ve sent him suggestive text messages, usually accompanied by a photo of you in the bath with the naughtiest bits covered by bubbles or a suggestive mirror selfie that highlighted your figure, Mingyu nearly cries when stopping himself from sending an even more suggestive response.

The issue isn’t that he thinks you’d dislike him doing those things, tempting him more and more with each passing day. But Mingyu’s worst fear at this point in your very new relationship is that you’ll think he only wants you for sex. Scared shitless that he’s misread the signals you’ve given him, confused innocent gestures as a go ahead to lust and crave. So his simple solution is to not do anything, provide nothing that can point even remotely in that direction. A perfectly PG relationship so you don’t misunderstand his interest.

To say it was a bomb to your self-esteem is an understatement. Mingyu is always the one to pull away first, the one to stop things when they verge on being more, before anything can go too far. Tonight you invited him in with the intention to ask him what his deal was. You know he’s not inexperienced; confirmed by several of your friends in college sharing details after spending a night in his bed. And it hardly seems that he’s regretting sharing his feelings with you; never missing an opportunity to inform you how beautiful he thinks you are or how much he likes spending time with you. The collection of good morning and good night texts littering your phones, each a precious reminder that you’re the first person he thinks of when he gets up and last before he goes to sleep. Down to his eagerness in planning dates, making reservations or buying tickets the second he knows your calendar is clear, effort oozing from his pores. You don’t know any guy that would try even half as much as Mingyu does if they weren’t interested.

There didn't seem to be any hardware issues on his end either. The first time you made out on your couch, the tantalizing feel of his hard cock against your bottom told you he was at least attracted to you. You just don’t get why he doesn’t seem to want to touch you the same way you yearn to touch him.

Tonight starts like it always does. Sitting a little bit too close on the couch, Mingyu’s hand finding your thigh, your own playing with his fingers as you discuss this and that. He tells you how Wonwoo finally got the courage to ask out his coworker he had a crush on. You update him on the work drama with your manager.

Eventually, someone shuffles closer, eyes meet, a head tilts, and all of a sudden your tongue grazes his as he coaxes you into his lap.

Testing the waters, you gently rock your hips against his as you nip his earlobe, releasing a stifled gasp when he rise to meet you. Embolden by his response, your fingertips skate up his chest as you arch further into him, lips searching for his.

“We should—mhm— slow down.” Mingyu pants into your mouth, making no effort to remove himself from you despite his words.

“But I want you.” You gasp as the next buck of his hips has the rough fabric of his jeans grinding against your barely covered pussy as your short dress rucks up higher and higher on your hips.

Dropping to Mingyu’s neck, you hope the rake of your teeth on his jaw will convince him to touch you the way you desperately need.

Your right hand is twisted through his hair, sending chills down his neck when your nails scratch his scalp. The other covers his as you place it on your breast, arching your chest and urging him to give it a gentle squeeze.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans, eyes trained on the way you fill his palm perfectly.

His next squeeze is answered with another moan. Mingyu knows it’ll burn his ears next time he’s alone in his room.

“Wait.” He breaths.

Mingyu’s tone tells you he’s serious. Still in his lap, you lean back to look down at his face.

His eyes are closed and long breath leaves his nose before he mutters, “We should stop.”

“Oh.” You exclaim shakily.

You try to not let the hurt that arises bleed into your voice but it’s impossible. 

Crawling out of his space, you sit back on the cushion next to Mingyu, putting a foot of distance between you. You focus on anything else besides the man beside you, training your eyes on how your fingers pick at the hem of your dress. The silence between you two is uncomfortable in a way it's never been before.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Obviously it's not fine.”

“I guess I’m just,” you pause searching for the best way to explain yourself, still unable to look at him. “confused? Everytime we start, you know, you stop. Am I making you uncomfortable? Do you not want to?”

“No!” He winces, shocked by the booming volume of his own voice. “No, I just— I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to.”

Finally looking at him, you ask, “What part of putting your hand on my boobs makes you think I don’t want you to do it?”

“I,” Mingyu responds, hand dragging down his face. “I don’t wanna mess this up and push you too far o—”

“Mingyu, stop it!” You snap, annoyed with his self sacrificing. “You're not gonna mess anything up by touching me. I thought I made it pretty obvious I want you to.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do.” You try to reel in your irritation but it's impossible.

“Why are you mad?”

“Because you’re acting like I can’t make my own decisions.”

“That’s not what I–”

You jump up from the couch to stand in front of him, arms flailing as you grunt in frustration.

“Yes, it is!” 

“I’m just trying to be a gentleman!”

“Well stop!”

“Fine!” he shouts, matching your own exasperation.

Mingyu throws you over his shoulder in a second, long legs carrying him towards your room. He’ll be damned if the first time he touches you, really touches you, is on the cramped lumpy couch in your living room. 

“Put me down!” you yell, fist pounding at his back and kicking your legs in an attempt to get free.

A gentle slap on your ass has your breath stalling. It’s not enough to hurt, barely a brush of his hand but it has your mind reeling all the same.

“Be good.” Mingyu orders, voice rough as gravel.

Oh, wow.

“And if I’m not?”

His steps falter before he continues down the hall, “Haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

Well at least he hasn’t been completely possessed. 

He gently sets you down on the foot of your bed, stepping back to stand in front of you with his hands on his hips which cocks to the side. You almost laugh at the way he looks like a mom about to scold her kid. 

“I’m not gonna fuck you tonight.” He states simply.

“Why not?” You protest.

Shame rises in your throat like bile when Mingyu hesitates.

“I wanna take things slow.”

“Oh…okay, that's okay.” You reassure him, reach to take one of his hands in yours. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“I do want to touch you. But we’re not having sex tonight.”

“That’s okay too.”  You can’t hide the way your breath stutters, flashes of his hand between your legs clouding your mind.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “whatever you want.”

“Can I take your dress off?”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” You tease, smiling mischievously up at him.

Mingyu's own mouth twists as he snags the neck of his shirt, subconsciously flexing the muscles along his arms and stomach enticingly as it rises over his frame. If anyone asks, he’d deny doing it on purpose but the way your eyes scorch across his skin makes him tense just a little bit more. His vision is blacked out by the fabric as it comes over his head, but when it's gone he sees heaven.

The lilac sundress you’d worn to dinner is gone, leaving your hair ruffled from its hasty removal, fluffed around your face enticingly. But it's what was under your dress that has Mingyu’s tongue on the verge of rolling out of his mouth and heart beating like a cartoon character. Your chest is wrapped in a silky pink bra, swells of flesh threatening to spill over the cups with each breath that stretches your lungs, stiff nipples poking through the edge of the fabric. The alluring pull of a matching pair of panties across your hips, accentuating your curves in the best ways, makes his cock twitch; but when you spread your legs, unveiling a tantalizing damp spot, nearly translucent where it clings to your folds teasingly, floods each of his senses with a specific type of hunger.

Fuck.

“Pants too.” You demand, but quickly correct yourself. “If that's okay.” 

You stare at one another for a beat. The clank of Mingyu’s belt being undone is the only sound beyond the duet of shaky breaths. His eyes don’t leave your face as he bares himself down to his briefs, but yours skim down his body, blazing as they trail across his form, to settle on the obvious bulge behind the cotton. When you swallow harshly, Mingyu’s ego flares.

“Come here.” You beckon.

Complying easily, Mingyu covers your body with his; arms caging you in below him as your thighs spread to cradle his hips. He settles on top of you, length nestled snugly between your folds, tip nudging your mound with each breath. It's maddening. Especially when Mingyu can feel your arousal seeping through his underwear and coating the underside of his cock.

Your noses brush gently, fleeting passes of lips as you settle against one another. You’ve only ever briefly felt Mingyu through thick layers of clothing, whether that when you wiggle your way in his lap or the few times you’ve woken up with his length pressed snugly against your ass. It gave you an idea of his size but in no way prepared you for the feel of him now, rigid as steel against your soaking center and threatening to burn you from the inside out. 

“Oh wow,” you gasp into his mouth, relishing in the slow curl of his hips against you.

“I know,” he nods, mind lost in the sweltering heat between your legs threatening to consume him.

You continue to writhe against one another, mouths meeting in rough passes of teeth and tongues. Your ankles lock at the base of his spine, pulling him firmly against you as your hands flutter across his skin, unable to stay in one place for long. Mingyu’s arm propped above you keeps his weight from crushing you, his other settles on the side of your neck, thumb tilting your chin up so his tongue can delve into your mouth. 

A particularly delicious grind of his hips has your head thrown back, moan aimed at the ceiling as you thrash pathetically. It lets Mingyu look at you. Cheeks and chest glowing with a rosy tint, a faint sheen of sweat blooming across your skin as you whine in his hold. The straps of your bra have fallen down your arms, one nipple peeking out from under the fabric, taunting him. 

The harsh suck of his mouth across your breast pulls your back tight like a bowstring. His tongue worships your chest, laving broad strokes you imagine will feel amazing on other parts of your body. He's everywhere, consuming you like a blackhole, ripping apart your entire being and leaving you disoriented. Head tipped back, you bare as much of yourself as possible for Mingyu to touch and tease; all while your abdomen tenses as your lower half cants against his.

Arching just enough to give you room to reach around, you snag the clasp of your bra relieved that the underwire is no longer digging into your chest uncomfortably. Your arms raise to pull it off, leaving you bare from the waist up for Mingyu to admire. 

“Like what you see?” You whisper, relishing in the shell shocked expression on Mingyu’s features.

He can only nod, gaze burning a hole through your chest straight to your heart.

One of his hands cup your chest gently, taking time to let the weight of the swollen flesh settle in his palm. He thumbs the stiff peak, still glossed with his spit from his earlier ministrations. Mingyu puckers his lip to blow a cool stream of air, delighting in the choke whine you release.

“Can I touch you too?”

“Please.” he moans, diving to leave a bruise on the side of your breast.

A depraved idea enters your head, whispering from the most primal parts of your mind. Mingyu said he’s not going to fuck you and you respect that wholeheartedly; the idea of waiting warming your soul. But you want to feel as much of him as possible; revel in the slide of his scorching length against you, deliver the long overdue pleasure you both want. 

“If you don’t like it we can stop.”

“Okay.”

Mingyu doesn't inform you that he doubts he'll dislike anything you do to him. Instead, he stares at your hand pushing his underwear down, fingers circling his cock in awe as you touch him for the first time. His body is miles away from his brain, like he’s drowning under crashing waves and you’re the sun he can see on the surface. Your thumb smears the beads of pre-cum collected at his tip, twisting your tight grip around the head to work him up. Sweat breaks out on his forehead, muscles in his arms jumping at the feeling of your smooth palm. He knows the image of your hand wrapped around his cock is branded in his mind forever. 

But then you do something he doesn’t expect. Your free hand grabs your underwear, moving the crotch to the side and uncovering your slit entirely. The flesh that peeks out from the outer folds is flushed a delicious pink, glistening in the low light with the evidence of your desire. When you hook the bulbous head of his cock under the hem he panics for a second, afraid you’re going to slip him inside. But you just wiggle you hips till he nudges your engorged clit, skin on skin with no barrier. Letting go of the fabric, Mingyu thinks he might be drooling when his cock is covered by soaked silk, sandwiching him against you. The erotic sight kills any coherent thoughts he has left.

“You’re —,” Mingyu starts, tongue heavy in his mouth. “What the fuck—”

He can’t stop watching how his cock moves, able to discern the nearly purple head of his length through the see-through silk that clings to his weeping tip. Your hand rests on your mound over your panties, pointer and middle finger forming a V to border the flared head on either side, giving him a bumper to grind against and forcing him a fraction harder against you.

“Move.” you beg, voice just as wrecked as his. “Please, Gyu.”

Who is he to deny you any longer?

Arms straining as he holds himself up, Mingyu keeps his gaze trained on where you're connected, entranced. Below him, you’re twisting in the sheets, twitching with each prod against your clit but your hand keeps him from slipping away.

Flashes of how from any other angle it looks like he’s drilling you into the bed, stuffing you with his cock rather than rutting against you pathetically, enter his mind. The firm pressure of your knees against his sides, ankles brushing his waist with each roll of his hips barely register in his conscious. Free hand scratching against his chest, your nails raise red lines and dimple his flesh with tiny crescents as he pummels your clit, slick with a mixture of his spunk and your own arousal. Needy whimpers singing into his ears are answered with his own groans, tempting him to shut his eyes and just feel if not for the vision below him.

The realization that he can feel you clench pitifully where his balls press against you, teasing him to just angle his hips a little bit lower and take you like he desperately wants has him surging against you even harder.

The sudden rush of stimulation overwhelms you, forcing your mind to shut down. It's all too much. The feeling of Mingyu above you, using your pussy to get off, fogs your brain. The crude rhythmic squelch where you meet sends shooting stars across the corners of your eyes. How his cock presses against your clit just so, dribbles of his pre-cum coating your most sensitive parts. The harsh squeezes of his hand on your breast, pinching the stiff peek of your nipple while his teeth nip your neck you feel like you might pass out.

“Mingyu!” You keen, chest pressing against his, allowing you both to revel in the drag of your skin on his.

The broken sound of his name on your lips skyrockets Mingyu to his end. Euphoria exploding in his chest, pleasure running from his balls to the tip of his cock as he loses all control of his body. His chest caves and breath stops as he jerks in your hold, rutting against you as his seed pushes through the ruined fabric of your underwear, collecting in globs above where his tip rests right on your clit; you’re fingers still pressing down on your underwear glossed in the overflowing pool of pearly fluid. Mingyu leans up as far as he can to watch, wishing to live this moment again and again. 

“Fuck, fuck!” He chants horsly, unable stop his own hips, even when the friction becomes tortious.

With one last pass he finally calms, muscles spasming as he collapses onto your chest.

The heavy weight pressing you into the bed makes you shudder below, another rush of wetness escaping.

“Good?”

Mingyu just groans into your shoulder, attempting to catch his breath.

“You’re crazy.”

You give an indignant huff, jaw clenching in mock annoyance.

“Don’t act like you don’t know.”

“Yeah well you clearly liked it!”

“My beautiful girlfriend just let me get off using her panties that she’s wearing. I’d be insane if I didn’t.”

“Girlfriend?” 

Suddenly, you're breathless for an entirely new reason.

“If that’s okay with you.” Mingyu mumbles, comically shy as if he didn’t just cum on you.

“That’s definitely okay with me.” 

“Good.”

“Now, how about you make your girlfriend come too?”

Mingyu nearly falls off the bed in his haste to do just that. Throwing your legs wide, he bullies his way between your thighs to gape at the mess of your panties. Nothing he’s ever seen in his life can compare. Something he doesn’t think even the most debased part of his brain could have imagined but you’ve given him knowledge of a kink he didn’t even know he had. Mingyu just stares, damning his refractory period; ruining the carnal desire to cover you in his seed again and again, until the possessive part of his brain is sated and you’re both on the verge of unconsciousness.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You chide above, impatience reading its head.

“Don’t play with me right now.”

You don’t want to overwhelm him more than you have so you bite your tongue against the urge to tell him you're serious. Maybe next time you’ll let him know how much the idea of him walking around with such a salacious image on his phone turns you on.

“Then touch me, Gyu.”

As pretty as you are covered in silk soaked with his cum, Mingyu knows you’re even more beautiful without the scrap of fabric. Taking a second to rub the puddle of fluids back into the fabric, you twitch as the pad of his finger massages your sensitive clit. When your hips pitch forward to seek more friction, he nearly rips your underwear with his clumsy hands in his haste to free you from them. At the sight of your bare slit, Mingyu pauses. The number of choices he’s presented with nearly drowns him; whether to taste or tease, stuff your clenching hole with his fingers or lick you from top to bottom, maybe make you show him what you like before trying it himself.

But first, Mingyu needs a better look at what he’s working with.

“Hold your legs open, baby.”

Before he can blink, your hands eagerly hook under your knees to spread yourself wide, void a timidity as you reveal yourself; unveiling every hill and valley, soft flesh dappled with pearls of his cum. Desire rushes Mingyu forward to collect the mess with his tongue, a throaty groan clawing its way out of his chest at the combination of fluids.

“Taste so fucking good,” he rasps. “You’re so hot.”

Lightening erupts in your veins under the languid heat of his tongue, every muscle twitching as he delivers maddening swirls through your folds. The fact that Mingyu is tasting the lasting traces of himself as he eats you out is like a punch to the gut. Broad strokes against your clit distract you from his hand sneaking up to circle your opening before a thick finger enters you. 

But the stretch isn’t nearly enough for how wrecked you feel, already teetering on the edge.

“More!” 

The hand you’ve ghosted down your front is pinned to the bed before you can even make it below your belly button.

“You’re gonna take what I give you.” He informs you, but gives you another finger all the same.

When a needy moan tickles his ears, Mingyu knows you’re waving a white flag, a wordless plea for him to continue playing with you as he pleases.

Fingers pistoning, Mingyu’s pointed tongue circles the bundle of nerves at the top of your slit. When he crooks the digits buried deep inside you, your back leaves the bed. The hand pinning your wrist abandons its grip, allowing him to use his fingers to spread your folds and keep your clit uncovered for his tongue to lash at.

“Don’t stop,” you cry, voice thick and broken. “Please, I’m so close.”

Both of your hands find the soft strands of his hair to hold him in place. Your feet plant on the bed beside his wide shoulders, allowing you to hump his face pathetically as the drenched squelch of Mingyu’s mouth against you fills your ears.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,”

Your finish is bubbling to the surface, a roaring boil in your blood that deafens all your senses except where your boyfriend plays with you. Mingyu’s arm stretches up your torso to palm your breast, fingers pulling your taunt nipple. He’s pulling out all the stops, trying his hardest to send you over the edge.

“Come on, pretty girl. Let me make you come.” he begs around your clit.

“Please!” you sob. “Please, please, please!”

You’re in a frenzy above him, ecstasy inches away. Your hips bucking is so hard they threaten to dislodge him but Mingyu takes it in stride. Elbowing your thighs apart, forcing them up and open to pin you in place so he can keep going. It tickles a part in your brain that imagines what he’ll do when he does fuck you for the first time, spreading you out before making you take his cock. 

The visual paired with stretch from a third finger sets you free.

“I’m—Mingyu! Oh my god!”

The simmer in your blood boils over, starting at your core and rushing to your toes and fingertips. Wrecked moans leave your bruised lips, eyes squeezed against the licks of pleasure overwhelming you. The only thing you can hear is the rush of blood in your ears as every muscle in your quivers so hard tears gather in your eyes. He doesn’t stop as you twitch in his hold, arms flexing as he strains to keep you spread so he can work you through it. You clench so hard around his fingers his arm halts before putting in more effort to pummeling your pussy. When you cry at the overstimulation he finally relents, delivering a last long lick along your slit before moving away.

Mingyu’s face is soaked, chin and cheeks covered in your juices, nose and cheeks flushed. You just stare, mouth open in wonder as he sucks his fingers clean.

“Holy shit.”

“You okay?”

“Shhhhh.” You press a finger to his pursed lips. “Brain goo, hot boyfriend just made me cum.”

Mingyu crawls up your body, peppering gentle kisses here and there as he goes. When you're face to face you just stare at each other, expressions full of fondness and exhaustion.

“But seriously, where the fuck did you learn that?”

Mingyu’s question is answered with a maniacal giggle.

[greenishghostey]

Eddie, without prompting, proclaims that anyone who is only willing to eat pussy if it's shaved, is a coward

I wasn’t sure how to do this “without prompting” so it’s more there’s minimal prompting

18+ content MDNI

///

“Okay, okay, wait a sec.” Eddie said hastily, moving your arms from around his neck so he could hold your hands. “What’s up?”

Fuck, he caught on way too fast. “Just don’t think I’m into being eaten out.” You mumbled, averting your gaze to anywhere but his face.

In reality, you’d forgotten to shave your pubes. The other times any one had gone down on you, you were trimmed, if not totally bare. When you sieve through too many cheesy magazine articles about sex, you tend to pick up what the societal perspectives are. Rather than forming your own.

Shaving was a pain. It was itchy. You nicked yourself at least once every time. Reaching every pube covered area was difficult. You hated that it was just sort of expected.

Eddie didn’t look the least bit convinced by your excuse. “You don’t think you’re into it?” He said fixing you with a curious look. “No one eaten you out before?” Now he just looked horrified, but on your behalf.

“No, no, people have. It’s just-“ you sat up and tried to gather together the right words. It was unlikely that Eddie would be put off by hair - but you’d thought that about George Ulrich last year and he’d recoiled at the very sight of it.

“We can give it a try and if it’s not your thing then we can do something else. How’s that sound?” Eddie smiled, perching himself close to you and kissing your forehead.

You wanted to ride his face more than anything by that point. So, you were just going to have to bite the bullet and deal with any consequences. “I didn’t shower or shave.” You mumbled, chewing the inside of your cheek. This felt like having sex for the first time again and it was just painfully awkward.

“Hmm?”

“I said I didn’t have a chance to shower, so there’s hair. Like a lot.”

Eddie was silent for just a touch too long. His big eyes had widened and he just stared at you - his stare always did make you squirm a little.

“Can I see? I really wanna see.” Eddie rasped, still looking at you, but with a much warmer gaze.

For a split second, you sat in surprise. Pleasant surprise at his request. The slight desperation in his voice only served to make your stomach tighten and your cunt throb.

“Uh, sure. Yeah. As long as you’re sure about-“

“I’m so sure.” Eddie wasted no time in hiking your thighs closer to him, laying you down again and clawing your underwear to the side. He deftly ran his fingers across the hair around your cunt, gathering wet as he stroked. It was like Eddie was fascinated or mesmerised by you and your body.

His calloused fingertips flicked your clit and caused you to groan out a moan. “Hair’s not an issue, got it.” You sighed, melting back into lumpy pillows as Eddie continued to explore you.

“Anyone who’s only willing to eat pussy if it’s shaved is a fuckin’ coward.” Eddie stated, looking up at you with a smile. It was a reassuring smile - all comfort and admiration. He really was grateful that you let him get this far. He would have been good with just kissing you at that party and living on cloud nine from there.

Before you could response, Eddie dove into you. He was licking and sucking at your clit and hole, wishing he could focus on it all at once. Thick fingers soon came up to press into your cunt and making you whine for more. Any friction at all. Anything he could give you.

“You like this, huh?” Eddie mumbled, pulling away from your sopping cunt by a hair. “Said you wouldn’t like getting tongue fucked, but look at you.” He sang ‘you’ with a laugh and grabbed at your hips - wiggling you closer to his face.

“Never had you down there so,” you whined, your voice sounding hoarse as knotted your fingers into Eddie’s wild hair. “God - fucking yes, yes, Eddie.”

“The flattery’s doing it for me, keep going. Please.” Eddie groaned into your cunt. From his nose downwards was pressed into you. He was desperate to get as close to you as physically possible. To taste you, smell you, fuck you. Whatever you’d let him do.

“Your fingers are so much bigger than mine.” You sighed with a smirk, pulling at Eddie’s hair to make him look at you. “Bet your cock’s gonna split me in two.”

At your filthy words, Eddie doubled down his efforts. Sucking your clit into his mouth and flicking it with his wet tongue - drool running down the side of his mouth. The fingers inside you crooked just right and rammed into your soaked hole.

“Cum on my fuckin’ face. C’mon, god, please cum on my tongue. Need it. Need it.” Eddie was chanting and rambling.

The sound of it all was obscene. Beautiful and raw. But obscene. Slick squelching and hoarse panting filled Eddie’s bedroom as he devoured you like he was starving.

In those moments of ecstasy, you decided to never shave again.

[showtoonzfan]

Ganna rant about Episode 4 of Hazbin again. For starters it has the same issue that Seeing Stars did for Helluva boss, that being Loona giving Octavia advice in comparison to Husk giving Angel advice. While the characters situations are different, both Loona and Husk were the wrong characters to pick to give advice, or simply just comfort the other character. I’ve already seen some people say that Charlie or Vaggie should have been the one to cheer Angel up, and that would have made more sense. They’ve known him longer and it’s in character for them to do that. For it to be Husk, not only does it feel forced as an excuse to just hook Angel up with a boyfriend and get the shipping fuel going, but it doesn’t make sense narratively.

In Loona’s case, her situation was flawed because she just MET Octavia, didn’t know a thing about her struggles and spouts to her about how she should be thankful just because her dad is “trying”, and the show tries comparing both girl’s situations when they’re not the same. This is practically the same situation with Angel and Husk. While Husk is aware of Angel, he barley knows him. He hasn’t been at the hotel that long considering the pilot took place only a week ago. On screen, all that Husk knew about Angel was that he was a porn star who constantly flirts with everyone, him especially, and we as the audience only see that and only that when the two interact. However episode 4 claims that Husk can see right through him and know that this is all part of his persona that he displays. If we had more time with these two characters outside of flirty banter scenes, this would make more sense, but instead it’s all tell and no show, being rushed with the little time we’re given. Husk even says that the hotel residents go to him to rant their sorrows while they’re drunk and even THAT happens off screen and that’s the problem, the audience has no reason to believe that Husk knows Angel deep down or even cares enough to want to help him, in our eyes, all Angel’s been doing is sexually harassing him.

There’s no reason why these two need to have an emotional scene together, it’s unearned and unwarranted because we haven’t had enough time with these characters, just like Loona and Octavia, there’s just no purpose or buildup. I also resort back to what I’ve said before: Husk selling his soul to Alastor is not the same as Angel selling his soul to Valentino. The show tries to compare Angel and Husk’s situations and it’s just not comparable because Alastor isn’t a rapist who’s trapping Husk to sell his body and be used like a rag doll constantly. Had it been something like “you’re a drug abuser and I’m an alcoholic”- THEN that would have worked, but that’s not what we get, and this leads me to talking about why “Loser Baby” isn’t good.

Some people have already misinterpreted my opinion, so here’s a few things. Is the song in character for Husk? Yes. Is the song about Husk telling Angel not to act and just embrace himself? Yes. On its own, the song is fine outside of some distasteful lines. The CONTEXT, execution, and placement of the song is the issue. Episode 4’s whole purpose is to see just how much Angel suffers. He’s forced to work like a dog at the studio day in and day out, and he gets abused and SA’d by his boss and other demons constantly. He doesn’t have a say in anything and can never say no because he’s under contract. He can’t Fizz his way out of this one and just go “I quit”, he’s literally forced to work in the porn industry wether he likes it or not, and we see all of that on screen. We also explore just how much this affects him. They reveal some pretty dark stuff here, how Angel doesn’t even want his position as a famous porn star and is so desperate to be numb from the pain and suffering he endorses that he’ll get high constantly and let people drug him for nefarious reasons, it’s his escape. They dump ALL of that info onto us, only for this bullshit to come up:

So the writers slut shame him, call him a freak and an addict to laugh at because “haha he’s addicted to drugs and a slut”, even though we JUST got done with a scene that confirms HE DOES ALL OF THIS AS A TRUAMA RESPONSE. He said himself he does the drugs and is addicted to numb the pain, and his own flirting (while problematic) is shown to be an act of him hyper sexualizing himself due to what he goes through. It’s not excusable but it’s still a fact, and we’re supposed to LAUGH at him??? That’s what’s wrong with his character and what continues to be wrong, because Viv sees him as the butt of the joke. Every line of dialogue he has is always about sex and how we should laugh because he’s a slut, an it comes off as so distasteful and insensitive to not only people who have been abused/SA’d, but porn actors in general. We’re supposed to laugh when he talks about cock and sex, but the reason he’s doing it is so dark that we shouldn’t be laughing about it at all cause he’s a VICTIM, yet Viv thinks it’s funny. It’s so disgusting and makes my stomach twist. Angel is trapped being in a position he doesn’t even want to be in, yet his entire character revolves around comedic sex jokes, and once you figure out the reason behind said sex jokes, it feels so wrong.

And this is why Loser Baby doesn’t work. Aside from everything else I’ve already said, It doesn’t line up with what Angel is going through, it doesn’t line up with the rest of the episode. If you wanted Angel to have this arc about realizing he doesn’t need to stick to his persona, fine, but you should have done it in a different episode. This is why Husk comes off as telling him to just suck it up and stop whining rather than what he’s actually trying to say. It looks bad with how they executed it, it just looks like he’s telling an SA victim to get over it and stop whining and what’s worse is they compare their situations when it’s not the same. You literally have a scene of Angel telling Husk he lets people drug him, and not even a minute later Husk is calling him a loser. That’s the issue. The show doesn’t know how to read the room, build character relationships slower, is just so incredibly tone deaf and is hypocritical. We’re supposed to feel bad for Angel cause he’s sexualized to the maxes and is having trauma responses of that, but then we’re also supposed to laugh at him and his sex jokes while also finding him hot. Pick a fucking side Vivienne, the show wants to have its cake and eat it too and look where that’s gotten us. The writing is a fucking atrocious mess and yet it had so much potential if Viv actually cared enough to take Angel seriously, instead of just desperately wanting to give him a boyfriend, and a rushed arc where he magically feels better in the end.

[fanfictilltheend]

❤️‍🔥Violent Heart Part 1: ♪All I've ever learned from love was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you ♫ (or the VERY DARK Stepdad!Mechanic!Covict!Joel x Afab!you one)❤️‍🔥

A/n: It's here!!!!!! 18+ Only. This took me 7 freaking months so you mofos better like, reblog, and comment. This is both my most and least personal fic I've ever written and it is dark and relies heavily on plot (no smut until part 2 but i swear it's worth the backstory!!!!) READ ALL OF THE TAGS DO NOT COME FOR ME UNLESS YOU DID THIS FR FR. This ones for my dark joel fangirlies(guys and NBies) and the daddy issues fam ily ❤️‍🔥 (also not me naming my fic in part after hallelujah by leonard cohen but there is a reason!!!!!!!!!!)

Summary: The story starts with Part 1 where afab!Y/N is a child and Joel is her new stepdad and this story explores their relationship. Themes of abusive family, domestic violence, child abuse, daddy issues, physical violence, murder, stepcest (kinda b/c he is divorced from her mom technically but she grew up with him as her stepdad), infidelity, age gap, and more are explored throughout the fic. PLEASE READ SPECIFIC TAGS (part 2 tags will be added with the release of part 2). Part 2 picks up with Y/N at age 20 and how her relationship with Joel has changed and gets steamier. NOTHING SEXUAL OCCURS BETWEEN Y/N and JOEL until Y/N is 20!!!!!!! Also check out this playlist of music that's in the fic!!!!

Tags (PLEASE READ): Afab!you, stepdad!joel, mechanic!joel, convict!joel, no apocalypse au, Mentions of sex (little detail), mentions of male masturbation, infidelity, domestic abuse/violence, sibling abuse/violence (no one ever talks about sibling abuse but it’s very real), physical child abuse, neglect, allusions to past domestic violence, cursing, brief mention of pedophilia and kidnapping (David), allusions to committing future pedophilia (David), threats, cancer mention, Sarah death discussion, Tommy death mention, murder, prison, mentions of god and religion, fights, general violence, alcohol consumption, using music lyrics to move the plot, daddy issues, use of y/n

Word Count: ~15k

PART 2 (coming soon)

Ao3 Link

Violent Heart Masterlist

Full Masterlist of all my work

Joel Miller is not a good man, that he knows like the backs of his calloused hands. 

He knows loss too, feels it burrowed in the hollow cavity of his chest. Sees it in the face of every little girl he meets. 

The memories sting. 

He knows pain, deep in the depths of his character, down to the fundamentals of what makes him something that resembles a human being. The belts, the bigger hands, the harsh words, and then the grief. The recent Bring back my babygirl! The ancient ¡Basta, Papí, por favor, no Tommy, no Mamá! ¡Por favor no esta noche! The indignity of begging, always reduced to begging to a cruel man, an indifferent doctor, a cruel universe. 

He knows hard work, how to work with his hands. He knows the grit and grease of labor. Sees the cogs turning in the engines he fixes, relates to them. Feels like he knows them intimately because he is one too, chugging along day after endless day. But no one dares fix Joel Miller.

Until…

Her name is Erica and she’d like her front bumper replaced, please. She has long eyelashes and a soothing voice. And she has money too, at least more than he, who is almost broke from the cost of Sarah’s medical bills. She comes with baggage, Joel can tell from looking into her eyes, but then again so does he. And he hasn’t been laid in god knows how long. 

She takes him on a date and he lets her. She reveals she has two kids, but Joel doesn’t care. They fuck at her place while the kids are at school and she wants it soft, like her hands, and that’s how Joel gives it to her. 

A week later, Joel has moved in, which is good because his rent was due and he couldn’t pay it. He still hasn’t met the children.

***

It’s Joel’s day off and he’s sitting on the couch in his new home. His back hurts, but that’s nothing new. He’s got an excellent view of their nice, big backyard with a wooden fence. The kind of home he would have liked to have given Sarah. He sighs. Technically, nothing is wrong.

Then he sees it. It takes him a second to realize what is going on. It’s a whirlwind. He sees the back gate open and two tumbling forms fall over the threshold onto the manicured grass. One form is bigger, a boy of about twelve or thirteen beating the shit out of a much smaller form, fists flying. The other form is a little girl, no more than eight, defending herself like her life depends on it. Perhaps it does with the way he’s going at her. 

This must be the son, Aiden, and the daughter, Y/N. 

He’s a good boy, really, but he has anger issues sometimes. He’s been through a lot. That’s what Erica said, but Joel does not see a good boy. He sees a bully. A disproportionately violent one at that. Nothing that tiny girl could have possibly done could warrant the brutality he sees before him. 

Anger is something else Joel knows intimately, and that is what he greets when he runs outside to end the fray.

“Stop that!” he roars, pulling Aiden off of Y/N.

“Who the fuck are you!?” the boy screams, fury and hatred radiating off of his entire being. 

He continues thrashing and punching at nothing as Joel restrains him.

“I’m gonna kill her!” he screams, his eyes bulging.

“What the hell happened?” Joel growls, still holding onto the livid boy–verging on young man. 

“She ripped up my paper!” he bellows. “For no fucking reason! I worked hard on it!”

“It was a lie,” she says with so much conviction Joel almost flinches.

He looks down at the little girl, her nose bleeding, her right eye turning purple. She has tears streaked down her face, but she is not crying. Her shirt is ripped. The first thing he thinks of when he sees her is Sarah. Of course it’s Sarah, how could he not think of her? But this little girl is different, has a different look in her eye. This look is much harder and feels like she’s lived a thousand lifetimes. He thanks god Sarah never looked that way, but somehow he wants to hear about everything this little girl has experienced. Something twangs in Joel’s chest that he has not felt in what feels like an eternity. 

“It was not a lie, you stupid bitch whore!” Aiden shouts angrily, still fighting back against Joel’s unrelenting grip. “Take that back!”  

“No, you take it back! Dad is not a hero. You could’ve picked anyone to write about and you choose him? After everything he’s done?” she screams herself.

The sound of her voice is powerful but desperate. Joel feels himself needing to know more and bury himself deep inside her experiences.

“SHUT UP!” Aiden yells, finally ceasing his movements. 

A tear falls from his cheek. 

“If I let you go, will you stop whooping your sister?” Joel snaps firmly.

“Get away from me, you stupid cuck!” Aiden curses, turning his energy to Joel. “Who the hell are you to me? Fuck you! I’m out of here!”

He wriggles out of Joel’s grasp and Joel lets him go and Aiden storms back out the rear gate, slamming it behind him.

“You alright?” he asks Y/N.

Joel crawls over on his knees, still upright, closer to her. 

“Had worse,” she shrugs, running a hand through her messed-up hair. 

She wipes the tears and blood from her cheeks.

Joel shudders to imagine what she means.

“He always like that?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “So you Mom’s new boyfriend?”

“Something like that,” he nods back. ”’M Joel. Joel Miller.”

“I’m Y/N,” she says a bit mournfully. “Here,” she continues suddenly, reaching out a small hand to his cheek. She wipes blood (hers) gently off his stubbly face. “Didn’t mean to get ya dirty.”

Joel is nothing short of touched. He wasn’t even aware he could still have such a feeling. His cheeks go rosy pink. His heart pulses. He stares at her delicate hands and notices a long, thin scar on her left middle finger. 

“‘S no trouble, sweetheart,” he hears himself reassuring her. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Could even mend your shirt if ya want. Know how to sew and all.”

He reaches out a large hand, but she flinches at the sudden movement. A dull ache wells up in Joel’s chest. 

“Not gonna hurt you, honey. Swear it.” 

He wants with every fiber of his being for her to believe him, for it to be true. 

She takes his hand.

***

That evening Erica is still not home, working late Joel supposes. It is nine o’clock when Aiden slinks back into the house.

Joel stops him from making his way up the stairs. He is more than familiar with the art of creeping.

“Think you oughta apologize to your sister,” he says as gently as possible. Maybe he can impart some manners onto this unruly child now that he’s calmed down some. “You beat her real bad. You’re much bigger than her.”

“I’d do it again,” Aiden hisses, his eyes cold. “It makes me feel better.”

And then, to Joel, the answer is simple. What do you do with a bully who won’t repent? Fight him back. Show him who’s boss, who’s bigger.

He grabs Aiden by the arm in a flash of anger and drags him up the stairs. The boy screams and flails, but that doesn’t deter Joel. He brings him to the room he assumes is his, the walls covered in sports posters and memorabilia.

“Take off your shirt,” he growls, a familiar fury pounding inside his chest.

When Aiden protests, Joel does it for him, ripping the kid’s shirt nearly in half. Rage floods through Joel’s veins and he can’t exactly place why, but the feeling is very real and bouldering through him at an alarming speed. He knows this feeling, feels strangely at home there.

He undoes his belt and brings the leather end down on Aiden’s back, not the buckle like his father used to do. Joel does have some decency buried deep in his chest. And then he loses himself to the unyielding anger.

“You get ten,” he snarls. “Don’t you lay a hand on your sister again. Is that understood? Now you answer to me.”

No response except for a scream.

“I said , do you understand?” Joel roars, bringing down the belt.

Rage consumes him like a drug. He barely registers what he’s doing. The belt goes down again and again. And somehow, through the screaming and the pain, and the intoxicating feeling of being completely in control for once, Joel’s line of vision wanders to the bedroom door. In all the excitement, it was left ajar and out in the hallway, sitting on her knees is Y/N. Joel immediately expects fear, despair, revulsion. When Tommy would watch him take a beating his face would betray the most acute sense of hopelessness and terror and the waterworks would begin. But Y/N just stares at him unflinchingly, at what he’s doing. She doesn’t cry, she simply sees. Too much for a child, and yet, she watches. She does not intervene, doesn’t even try to. And for the tiniest moment, her and Joel’s eyes connect, and he feels a sense of calm, of comprehension, of recognition in that uncannily knowing gaze. Her irises sparkle and Joel feels…something that he cannot entirely articulate. Seen? Accepted? Understood? Joel knows logically what he is doing is an ugly, vile thing — he has never claimed to be a good man. Practical maybe, but never good. And yet, Y/N sees it — sees him — and she doesn’t look away. She cocks her head slightly, and images of Tommy grimacing in revulsion and fear as Joel mercilessly beat up their childhood neighborhood bullies to the point of unconsciousness pop into his mind, of the haunting look in his brother’s eyes. Even Sarah could not stomach his violent heart when she witnessed him beat up some pervert with a camera that had looked at her funny at the mall. Even though it was for her — to keep her safe. She had stared at him in disgust and pity. She had not seen him then at all.

But now, looking at Y/N, for the briefest moment, Joel can swear he sees something resembling a smile flicker over her serious face. And though it goes as quickly as it comes, he feels the familiar sensation gnawing at the bottom of his stomach: primal and untameable, soft and vulnerable, but fierce and loud at the same time. He feels an inexorable, inescapable sense of care and devotion to this child. But most of all, because she sees him, truly sees him, and does not turn away in disgust, Joel Miller feels the gut-wrenching, unquenchable sensation of love deep in his chest. For the first time since Sarah died on that hospital bed, weak and unwell from the chemo he could not afford, he feels alive . 

***

Things fall into a tentative routine. Every morning, Joel wakes up in bed beside Erica. They fuck the night before more often than not, but always in that same slow way that doesn’t do much for Joel. It’s enough to get off, sure, she isn’t an unattractive woman, but he’s mostly there for the meal ticket and roof over his head. He goes to work at the auto-body repair shop, Erica goes to her job at her law firm. The kids ride the bus to school. He gets home in the evenings before Erica and spends time coexisting with the children. Usually, he kicks back on the sofa, rubbing his sore back, and watches television, minding his own business. Aiden mostly avoids him, doing god knows what in his room. He bullies his sister cruelly and Joel punishes him when he sees fit. Erica knows what he does to Aiden and either doesn’t care or approves. He never lays a hand on Y/N though. She warms up to him slowly, cautiously. Most evenings she sits on the far end of the couch and Joel on the other, but as she gets used to him and sees that he’s not a threat, at least to her, she scoots closer. 

The children’s father is no longer in their lives from what Joel can tell, which is perfectly fine with him. When Joel’s heart does not feel full of lead, he plays the guitar. Y/N sits and watches him. She is a quiet child, but unrelentingly brave. When Joel lets the TV blare, he rarely cares to pay much attention these days, she stays and watches with him, no matter what is on and never complains or asks to change the channel. Blockbuster zombie apocalypse movie? She watches. News special on America’s most dangerous serial killers? She watches. Documentary on venomous snakes? She watches. Should Joel be letting her watch this crap? Who the fuck knows? He isn’t her father. And plus, he won’t admit this to anyone, hardly even himself, but he likes having some company. It makes everything feel…less. And he likes that she doesn’t try to make him speak. Sometimes there are no words and he thinks Y/N understands this. Unlike Erica who yaps every second of the day. But Joel stays polite and plays along. He has to.

But he will not lie, Aiden gets on his very last nerve. There is something that Joel cannot quite place that makes him feel like he has known this boy his whole life even though they are as familiar as perfect strangers. All siblings fight and rough-house. That is normal. Hell, he and Tommy used to fight rough and tumble all the time. But the way Aiden bullies Y/N is something else entirely. And most times, it is unprovoked. And he is so much bigger than she is, growing bigger by the day. 

Joel’s beatings have not stopped Aiden’s anger and sadistic attitudes, but they do make sure that he takes some kind of physical consequence for his crimes. It makes Joel feel better and he thinks it makes Y/N feel better too. And some days he gets so fucking mad at Aiden that he thinks not even god could stop his wrath even if the boy turned into Mother Theresa herself! Okay, maybe that’s extreme, but another part of Joel thinks maybe it’s not. The truth is, though he is loathe to admit it, some days, he is not in control of his anger. Some days he punches so hard, his knuckles bleed and he has to stop for a second to come back to himself. Others he goes so roughly on Aiden that he causes the kid to become bloody and he feels ashamed of what he’s done. But there are other days, very dark days, where he wishes he could do it over and over again. He convinces himself he’s doing it for Y/N and not some other sinister ulterior motive he does not care to dwell on…

One night, a few months into Joel’s new living arrangements, he walks through the upstairs hallway to his and Erica’s bedroom, passing the closed door to the bathroom that the kids share. He has done this what feels like a thousand times before and doesn’t think anything of it until he stops and realizes he hears Y/N singing. 

♪“ Someday, my pain / Someday, my pain will mark / You…”♫ she sings softly.

He can barely hear it over the crash of the water from her shower, but her voice is beautiful. It pulls at Joel’s shrunken heart, deep inside his long-dead chest. Her voice has an eerie quality to it too, almost haunting. He’s not sure of what song it is, but he finds himself wanting to know. Eventually, she stops, and Joel goes to bed, but her voice echoes in his mind for hours as he lies awake in the dark.

The next day, Joel is sitting on the couch when the kids get home from school. Y/N joins him on the other side of the sofa as usual. They watch reruns of some unfunny family sitcom.

“Heard you singing last night,” he finally grunts unceremoniously.

Y/N goes very still.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll be quieter next time.”

Joel looks over at her. He realizes she looks terrified.

“Ain’t no problem with it,” he tries to explain, confused. “Thought you sounded nice is all.”

“You tryna trick me?” she stammers, tears collecting in her shimmering eyes.

“What? Trick you? What you crying for, honey? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Joel is genuinely flabbergasted. 

Tears trickle down her cheeks. What has he done this time? he wonders. But he is concerned more than anything. Hell, he hasn’t seen her cry like this since the day they met. Not even last week when Aiden slammed her head into the metal oven in the kitchen (luckily it was off or Joel would have really killed him that time).  

She sniffles, looking conflicted, then collects herself as best she can manage.

“M-my dad didn’t like when I would sing. ‘Specially if he was in a depo…I forget the word…deponition? Deposition? When he was on the phone for work, I mean. If I was being too loud. Or too shrill. He didn’t like that one bit. He’d get mad…” she trails off. 

“The way Aiden gets mad?” Joel asks very slowly, not truly wanting to know the answer.

“Yeah,” she nods after a while. “Except he’s a lot bigger. And stronger. He…he broke my arm once. But it was on accident I think. He got me ice cream after.”

Anger, red and hot, pulses through Joel’s veins. What hadn’t this child endured at the hands of angry men? 

“What did your mother do?” he bites out, almost unnaturally calm from trying to control himself.

“Well, most of the time he’d kinda like hit her around, I guess? But the time he broke my arm was the time she made him leave for good and they got a divorce and all. Aiden says it’s my fault he won’t come around anymore. He was so mad. He loves Dad so much. I don’t understand it though because even though Dad likes him a lot more than me, Dad would still be so mean to him sometimes. Mom says I don’t even know all of it...Promise I won’t bother you with singing though, okay?”

“Sweetheart,” Joel says as softly as his blinding rage will permit. Somehow, when he’s with Y/N, he finds he can control himself better. “I’ll never get mad at you for singing. Or being too loud. Or anything. Never gonna put my hands on you. I’m sorry if what I do to Aiden scares you or made you think that I would ever do such a thing to you.”

“It doesn’t scare me,” she shakes her head. “When you get rough with Aiden, you do it because he did really bad, to protect me. It’s like with you there’s rules that make sense. Aiden chooses to be mean and violent so you choose it back to him. With my dad, it was different. It was like I could breathe wrong and I’d get in trouble. Get in trouble for things I couldn’t control or help. Sometimes I did bad, I know I did, but I also know there were other times where I wasn’t hurting anyone and he’d still hurt me so badly. My dad never got mad at Aiden for hurting me though. He thought it was funny, I think. Sometimes he’d kinda like sick him on me. Kinda how you could a dog.”

Joel doesn’t know how to respond, doesn’t know the right words. He figures he can only show her with his actions who he is and she will just have to learn to trust him. If her father ever enters the house though, he will wring his neck. That’s for certain. Thank God he doesn’t come around for his sake, Joel’s, and the family’s.

“I was just thinking,” Joel finally says. “If ya want, I could learn how to play that song you were singing on my guitar and maybe you could sing it for me sometime?”

“M-maybe we could sing it together?” Y/N asks tentatively, her eyes wide. “Singing in front of other people is kinda scary.”

“I haven’t sung in a while,” Joel sighs. “Might be rusty.” 

“That’s okay,” she grins hopefully. 

Joel wants to take a photo of that rare sight and keep it close for as long as he lives, torn in his pocket or snug in his wallet, he doesn’t care. 

“Joel?” she asks a little cautiously, breaking him from his thoughts. “Can I ask you something?”

“‘Course, kiddo,” he says as gently as he knows how.

“Who’s Sarah?”

His heart stops. His blood runs cold. 

“What? How did you–”

“You were talking. In your sleep yesterday,” she says, shrinking away a little and Joel feels sorry for scaring her again. “When we were watching Dexter . Well, you fell asleep right before. You were snoring and all, but you were also talking and mumbling that name. You sounded sad and scared.”

Joel should definitely not have allowed her to watch that! But that is hardly the point right now. 

His heart squeezes so tight it burns. What was there to say about Sarah – the entire reason his life had had any purpose? His perfect babygirl? The light of his life? 

He could lie. So easily too and Y/N would never know. He could say nothing at all. Hasn’t even told Erica about her yet. Hardly ever speaks to anyone about her these days.

And yet…

“She was my daughter,” he hears himself say softly. “She…got sick. Died of leukemia a while back. She was twelve.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the wallet he was just thinking about. Inside is a tiny school photo of Sarah – the last one she ever took. It’s faded a little, but she’s still smiling so big she could block out the sun. He shows it to Y/N.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” she says and she really does look sorry. 

Not the way his co-workers and customers say it – almost as a reflex – to fill the void in the conversation. Her eyes are shimmering.  

“Nothin’ to do about it now,” he shrugs, running his thumb over the photo paper, softened with age. “But she was so damn special. My whole world.”

He has learned to repress the tears, not to show weakness, that is not hard. Not anymore. But the anger that broils up inside him – the injustice of it all – how he was unable to help her. Unable to save her. He feels almost like a child again, powerless in an unforgiving, unrelenting world. He wants to fight back!

He is so angry he begins to shake and his hands clench into fists. 

He wants to flip over the fucking coffee table – fling it across the room! He wants to punch in the glass of the flickering TV screen until his fist is broken! He wants to–He wants–

He just wants his babygirl back…

A sob, small and foreign rises in his throat, but he pushes it down. 

He thinks Y/N knows though. Can see the vulnerability in his eyes.

She reaches out a small hand and touches his fist, pushes it down gently into the soft fabric of the couch so he’ll stop shaking. It doesn’t entirely work, but he thinks he appreciates the effort.

“I don’t know if this is the right thing to say,” she begins a bit skittishly, still not entirely trusting the hulking, raging man above her. “But I think I would have liked to have been her friend.”

And for the first time since Sarah died, Joel sobs . 

Y/N pops up from the couch and Joel’s heart cries out louder in his chest for her to come back, don’t leave me too as he tries to suck the tears back in. It doesn’t work though and liquid gushes down his cheeks. He doesn’t think he can take the rejection, the loss of her. But thankfully, she returns just as quickly as she went with a handful of tissues stuffed into her small fist. 

“Here, Joel,” she offers. “Here. Don’t cry.”

Joel does cry though. He’s ashamed he’s broken down in front of this literal child, and he doesn’t let out much noise, but he doesn’t take the tissues either. He can’t. 

She’s so sweet though, or maybe it’s because she is truly afraid of him now, of his wrath, he’ll never really know, but she frowns and reaches out a little hand, the one with the scar on the middle finger, and tries to wipe up the tears.

The paper of the tissue tickles his cheeks.

“Shouldn’t havta…” he tries.

“Didn’t mean to make you…” she answers.

A pause.

“You didn’t, honey. That was all me,” he assures her finally.

She lets out a sigh of relief and soaks up the last of the salt water from his face, brushes the tissue gently against his nose. It tickles, causes him to snort. He smirks a little.

She smiles back shyly, she can’t help it, he can tell. 

“You know,” he says thoughtfully after a few moments of silence, sighing deeply. “I reckon she would’ve wanted to be your friend too…”

***

A few months roll by. Things are virtually the same except Y/N seems more comfortable around him now. Maybe it’s because she saw his weakness up close and personal, his Achilles heel —— knows how to coax it out of him now if she has to. Or maybe it’s because she truly trusts him. Whatever the case, she sits closer to him on the couch now, still giving him a respectful foot of distance though of course. 

Once in a blue moon, she sings for him and he tries to keep up with the lilting sound of her high voice. She says she likes his low, deep voice just fine, it’s just she still gets nervous singing in front of other people so it’s still a rare occasion. His favorite is when she sings solo and he gets to strum along for her and really listen. Sometimes her voice cracks in a very specific way that some might find to be a flaw, but Joel would never. 

Aiden makes fun of them and calls them the ‘Von Trapp Family Singers.’ Are they a family? Joel wonders.

One day after work, Joel goes to the library to find some sheet music for a song Y/N likes. She treasures the photo-copied paper like a gift as Joel deciphers the notes he can actually read for her. She color-codes each one carefully in magic marker so she can remember the differences between them. 

The next day, Aiden burns it up with a lighter he has acquired from God knows where. Joel confiscates it – the last thing he needs is this particular child setting fires – and It doesn’t end well for Aiden. He limps for damn near a week. But some days, when Aiden is calm, he joins Y/N and Joel in front of the TV if a sports game is on. He doesn’t sit on the couch though, just the floor. He doesn’t say much to them but does get invested in the good and bad plays of each game, gets sore if his team is losing. On one particularly good day, when the Rangers hit a grand slam, and Joel was actually paying attention, he and Aiden actually high-five.  

Things are going…well? Is that the right word? It is a foreign concept for Joel. For Christmas, he gets Y/N guitar, Aiden a book on boxing so maybe he will redirect his anger into somewhere productive, and Erica a spa-day kit for 20% off that he saw at CVS (he never claimed to know what women want). Aiden is neutral, surprised, he thinks, that Joel even got him a present. Erica is actually appreciative and returns the favor with some new socks and underwear. 

“A practical gift for a practical man,” she says, kissing him on the forehead. 

Joel supposes he appreciates the gesture. 

Y/N, though, is thrilled.

“Thank you, Joel! Got you something too,” she says excitedly, bouncing up and down in her red and white pajamas.

“That’s not necessary,” Joel chides, leaning over to pick up the wrapping paper that was strewn across the living room floor. 

But secretly he is curious. He didn’t think she even had any money of her own…

Aiden opens the cover of the boxing book with disinterest, eyeing the new guitar distastefully. 

Y/N jumps up, leaves the room, and returns with a small plastic baggie in her hands. Inside are little, different bits of colored plastic clumsily and haphazardly cut into tiny, sharp-looking, badge-shaped pieces. One he recognizes is from the top of a yogurt container he put into the recycling the other day, another one from the top of a Gatorade bottle. 

“Here ya go!” 

She shoves the plastic bag into his large hands enthusiastically.

“Thank you,” Joel responds, still unsure what he was given.

It reminds him of when Sarah was young and would come home with some sort of abstract macaroni painting from kindergarten and he would nod and smile knowingly when she explained that of course it was Two dinosaurs getting married, Dad. Duh!

“You could try one on my new guitar,” she offers, a little disappointed when he doesn’t have more of a reaction. “You said you lost most of yours…”

Joel immediately feels guilty and then it clicks. She tried to make him guitar picks! His heart clenches with emotion he can not quite identify. 

He pulls a little orange one out of the bag and accidentally nicks the edge of his finger. Because of the way it was cut, no doubt with uncoordinated child’s hands and a pair of scissors, the edges are much too sharp to serve as an actual guitar pick without damaging guitar strings or apparently Joel’s finger. Dumb kid. But he’s beyond honored anyone would take the time to do such a thoughtful thing for him. 

He hisses softly and sucks the blood off his finger.

“Oops,” she says, horrified. “Shoot. Sorry, I–”

“‘S no trouble,” he interjects dismissively. “Love ‘em. Was my fault anyway. I’mma be honest with you though, sweetheart; don’t think the guitar strings can handle these babies.”

“Oh,” she says softly, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “Oh, yeah, okay...”

She deflates, looking down at the carpet.

Joel selfishly lets her be sad for a beat before swooping back in to be the one to save the day.

“But here’s what I’ll do…”

She looks back up at him with an intoxicating kind of hope in her eyes.

He takes his wallet out of his back pocket and slips the orange pick into the photo slot next to the picture of Sarah. He returns the wallet back into his pants. 

Y/N positively beams. Brighter than the sun, even, Joel thinks.

Aiden yawns purposefully loudly and rolls his eyes. Erica looks touched and maybe even a little proud of her choice in men. But Joel didn’t do it for them. The only reaction in the world he cares about is hers.

Y/N is still grinning, bouncing on the balls of her feet again. But then she does something new: she leans in and hugs him, wrapping her little arms around his waist, burying her face in his flannel shirt, pressing against his tummy.

The world stops for Joel. 

At first, he just hangs there limply, awkwardly. Literally forgets what one is supposed to do in such a situation, but then instinct kicks in and he wraps his arms around her too and squeezes ever so slightly. It’s a more cautious hug than Sarah would have given him – she would have squeezed him half to death – but Y/N is still holding him. Someone small and warm is holding onto him for the first time in what feels like an eternity. And just like that his past is rhyming with his present and it is the most beautiful sound Joel Miller has ever heard. 

Joel Miller is not a good man, no, but maybe, just maybe, he thinks he could be one for Y/N. 

***

Joel tries to be good. He does. His first order of business is stop beating on Aiden – especially in front of Y/N. No amount of violence towards the kid seems to do any good anyway – he still hurts her. And Joel is sick of bandaging her up and wiping the blood from her cheeks; something has to change. Not that he wouldn’t do it a thousand times if he had to. He’d do anything for the girl, that he is sure of. And the truth is, Aiden is close to getting big enough to really fight back. And Joel knows if Aiden really lays a hand on him, he’s not sure he will be able to control himself enough to not inflict permanent damage. And he doesn’t want that. Truly.

So at first, Joel thinks about having Erica send him away to a wilderness camp for troubled children or some such program he sees mentioned on reruns of Dr. Phil. She has the money to do it too. But she won’t send him away. She refuses, loves him too much. Protecting Y/N seems as far down on her list of priorities as ever. She is useless at disciplining him, always has been, so it is up to Joel to find another solution. So the next thing he tries is to set the boy up in boxing classes. This is risky since it might just teach him new ways to hurt Y/N, but at least it will be a place to direct his anger.

It works for a while, to his and Y/N’s immense relief, but that leaves Joel nowhere to take out his anger. He tries to ignore it at first and shove it down, but it starts to come out in little ways. At work, he barks at a customer who locks his keys in the car he’s trying to fix. At home, he shouts at Erica for missing Y/N’s school play. The rage leaks out of him, pours off his entire being. He tries jerking off more to increasingly violent porno magazines to calm himself down since Erica is sure not satisfying him. It doesn’t do enough though, not really. Finally, he tries boxing at the local gym himself, but it is not enough either. Boxing has rules. The first sorry sucker he gets in the ring with, he beats to the point of unconsciousness. Two men have to pull him off to get him to stop. They kick him out immediately.

So Joel tries going to the bar after work with the guys from the shop and drinking a little to take the edge off. That actually helps somewhat. He’s careful about it, never comes home drunk, never drinks in front of Erica or the kids. But what helps the most are the bar fights. He’s careful about that too. Only fights the assholes, which there are many of. Switches up the bars he goes to. But some motherfucker slaps a girl's ass without permission? Joel’s on him in seconds, watching like a predator from the shadows. Some dude throws a drink in the bartender’s face? Joel clobbers him half to death. And sometimes? People in the bar applaud him, even cheer him on. It’s probably because they’re intoxicated, but that’s how he justifies it to himself like he’s some kind of goddamn vigilante. Deep down he knows he is something much, much uglier. But at least he’s not doing it to Aiden, a child. And more importantly, at least it is away from Y/N.

***

One day, Y/N falls sick. It starts out as what seems like a cold with a nasty cough. Kids are little germ factories, Joel knows that. He tells himself it is nothing to worry about – that all kids get sick sometimes. The first few days she lies on the couch like a zombie, coughing incessantly into her elbow and sleeping a lot. She snores ever so slightly which he finds charming. Joel stays home from work with her because Erica has to be in court and they watch lots of nature documentaries and daytime talk shows. 

Then the coughing gets worse and Joel’s brain stops functioning properly and he has trouble explaining why. He feels more on edge, more agitated. Erica takes Y/N to the doctor and comes back with a diagnosis: walking pneumonia. Nothing too serious, lots of kids get it. She is prescribed antibiotics and is supposed to drink lots of fluids and wait it out. But when Erica tells Joel the news of what the doctor told her he is holding a glass of water and it shatters in his large hand, cutting the skin of his middle finger.

“Fuck!” he yells. 

And he cannot articulate precisely why, but he feels good that there is a justified reason to yell. 

Erica wipes his hand and cleans the glass up.

“Gotta go to court again today, honey,” she says like everything is fine and normal. “Can you look after her today? Call in sick? She’s in bed. Going through it.”

Joel nods and she is gone like this whole thing is nothing. Like her precious, living breathing child is not suffering in the room above his head.

He climbs the stairs and enters Y/N’s room. He doesn’t often spend much time there. The walls are painted pink and differently shaped dolls and stuffed animals line the white vanity across from her canopied bed. He does not think he has ever seen Y/N play with any of those specific toys, come to think of it, or express any interest in the color pink (no doubt Erica’s secret passion for interior design rearing its ugly head). He vows silently, one day, to paint the walls any color she wants. 

But there she is, sprawled out in her bed coughing a nasty cough. Something shifts inside Joel at the sound. She looks unwell and weak and so small. 

“Hey, honey,” he says softly, almost robotically. 

Something is not right. He sits on the edge of her bed, feels her burning forehead. He takes her temperature gently with the thermometer that goes in her ear. He feels that weird sensation like he’s been here before even though he has hardly ever entered her bedroom. One hundred and four degrees Fahrenheit it reads when it beeps. Joel swallows a lump in his throat that he didn’t realize was there.  

She coughs pathetically. She looks out of it, her eyes far away. Joel’s heart throbs painfully.

Y/N is mumbling something incoherent now. Joel leans a little closer so he can decipher the words.

He makes out something like: No, Dad. Don’t. Stop, please. Please, not tonight. 

Joel stops breathing. 

She must be delirious from the fever. 

And then she’s crying. Quietly, but crying all the less. And this time, unlike every time he has seen her tears before, she sobs. Actually makes noise, her chest wracked with it. 

Then she coughs so hard she starts to wheeze and it hits Joel so ferociously he practically loses his grip on reality.

When Sarah was sick she had leukemia, a blood cancer. And cancer requires treatment. Expensive treatment. But of course, Joel hadn’t cared. He would have sold every item he owned to save his child, would have traveled to the ends of the earth if he had to, done literally any and everything in his power to protect her. So he paid for most of her chemotherapy with high hopes. Desperate hopes, but high ones. It had been her best shot at getting better according to the doctors. And the thing about chemo is, the side effects can literally be deadly. Joel is not a man of science, but the doctor explained that those drugs kill the bad cells that make up the cancer, but also the good ones. It fucks with your immune system, weakens you. Makes you lose your hair, vomit, and or be so weak you can barely walk. All that happened to Sarah. Joel felt like a traitor taking her to those treatments. Logically, he knew they were necessary, but he always felt like he was the one doing those awful things to her. It eviscerated him, left him raw and empty, and helpless like a child.

But in the end, it was the pneumonia that killed her. Her body couldn’t fight it off. She’d died in a hospital bed, Joel at her side, holding her hand, unable to do a single damned thing except scream .

Y/N coughs again, simultaneously pulling him from his thoughts and throwing him back into them. His heart is pounding in his chest to Do something! But there is nothing to be done, nothing he can do! Why can’t he ever seem to protect her?

She looks up just then, notices him for the first time since he entered the room, still crying feebly.

“He hurt me,” she whispers up at him, her eyes glazed over and glistening with tears. She reaches out for a handful of his dark blue work shirt and pulls it tightly to her. “He hurt me. And I couldn’t–I c-couldn’t…”

And then he is holding her, not quite sure how, but he is holding her trembling body to his chest and he will not let her go. Not for the world, not for anyone. He will not lose this child. He wraps his arms around her, holds tight. He will keep her safe, no matter the cost. 

“It’s okay, babygirl,” he whispers. “I got you.”

***

Joel and Erica get married that spring. They agree on a private ceremony in front of a judge with only Y/N and Aiden in attendance. When Aiden hears the news, he throws a fit, He breaks dishes and punches a hole in the TV set which sets Joel’s teeth on edge. But Y/N is overjoyed. In the end, he and Joel adorn what Joel considers monkey suits and Erica wears a beautiful white dress that accentuates her figure. Y/N wears a frilly pink dress and carries a basket of pink roses. Joel never thought he’d be a married man and yet here he is. He imagines Sarah in attendance too and his heart aches. This is his life now. 

He refuses to wear a ring.

***

Time passes. Long stretches of time where things feel–dare he think it–normal.

 Aiden doesn’t beat Y/N, but begins to get into fights at school. Joel saves his violence for the bar scene which he begins frequenting more often. 

Erica starts working later, gets promoted in her job. Fucks Joel less and less, not that he cares very much. 

Joel goes to back-to-school nights and family cookouts. He teaches Y/N to play the guitar and how to fix car motors. In both these activities, she is no natural, but she tries her best and listens well. She smiles more than he’s ever seen. He drives her to sleepovers and Aiden to boxing practice. He paints her bedroom walls orange.

Things feel stable.

Two Christmases pass.

And then things take a downturn.

***

One evening, Joel returns home from work later than usual. When he arrives home in his truck, he notices an expensive sports car in the driveway. Erica has affluent friends, sure, but he’s never seen this particular car before. Something about that doesn’t sit right with him.

He opens the front door with a creak and Erica intercepts him before he can make it to the dining room table for dinner. She presses a hand to his forearm bulking with muscle.

“Don’t freak out,” she whispers urgently. 

Joel stops and hears the sounds of people eating dinner and a man’s raspy voice speaking.

“Freak out about what?”

He makes his way past her to the dining room. He sees a man he does not immediately recognize sitting at the head of the table, Y/N is flanking one side of the table next to him and Aiden the other. He is conventionally handsome and wearing an expensive pinstripe suit. When he looks up, he smirks at Joel. Joel thinks he looks kind of like Aiden if you were to squint. And then he understands who he is.

“The fuck are you doing in my house?” he growls, lunging forward.

“ Your house?” the man smirks again, unflinching. 

He looks Joel over, examining his mechanic’s uniform, the grease stain on Joel’s cheek. 

Erica grabs Joel. She pulls him back out into the hallway.

“Tell him he’s not welcome here,” Joel snarls, trying to get a look at the man over Erica’s shoulder. 

She pushes him backward gently. Instantly, he is worried for Y/N, for all intents and purposes alone in there with the man who abused her and this entire goddamn family for that matter. He catches a glance at her and she looks terrified . Aiden, conversely, Joel sees, looks like he just won the lottery, staring up at his dad in adoration. Joel doesn’t think he has ever seen him look so happy.

“This is important to them,” Erica snaps quietly. “That’s their father. He has a right–”

“Get him out of here or I’ll kill him,” Joel says deadly quietly. “He what? Doesn’t show up for over three years and you think that–”

“I know that he has a right to speak to them. I am their mother and they need a sense of closure. Aiden needs this. So you will sit down at that table and have an amicable dinner or so help me God, Joel.”

Erica never speaks to him like this. He is shocked.

“Fine,” he snarls after a while, his chest heaving. 

He can hardly think straight while Y/N is in there alone with that excuse for a man. Better he be close to protect her instead of thrown out of the house.

He walks back in with Erica, who sits next to Y/N, leaving Joel nowhere to go but next to Aiden.

“I’m Derek,” the children’s father says, leaning over the food Erica has prepared to shake Joel’s hand. 

Joel doesn’t take it.

“And you must be Joe? The new husband.”

“Joel,” he replies shortly.

He looks over at Y/N who is trying to be brave, he can tell, but deep in her eyes, looks petrified.

They eat dinner in tense silence until Derek breaks it and begins bragging about his golf club record, the latest client he’s been representing, his new girlfriend, Sylvia.

“See, she’s helping me become a better man,” Derek insists with a forkful of steak. “I know I haven’t always been…the greatest of fathers or partners, but she really convinced me coming here would be a good thing. That it would be healing. You guys will meet someday, I’m sure.”

Joel leans forward toward Derek, reeling at the idea that this man could possibly be back in the picture of his family’s life, but Erica reaches under the table and squeezes his knee in a death grip and Joel holds himself back.

Aiden hangs on his father’s every word. Erica looks somewhat intrigued after she lets go of her husband’s leg. Y/N screams silently at Joel, who tries his best to communicate without words that he will keep her safe.

“And I know I’ve missed quite a bit,” Derek continues. “Which is why I brought these. Sylvia’s idea, really.”

He reaches down toward his feet and pulls out a fancy golden gift bag and takes out two presents. He hands one to Aiden and the other one to Y/N. Aiden rips his open excitedly. Inside is a hunting knife with a red handle. 

Great, Joel thinks.

Y/N doesn’t move though, stopped like a deer in the headlights.

“Open it, girl,” Derek sneers.

She looks over at Joel. 

“Go on, baby,” he says softly, heat pumping through his blood.

She unwraps the pink wrapping paper and finds a Barbie doll in a clear plastic box. Joel has never seen her play with dolls at all come to think of it. 

“Isn’t that thoughtful?” Erica smiles cautiously.

“Thanks, Dad,” Aiden says enthusiastically. “Can’t wait to show the guys at ROTC.”

“Good for you, son,” Derek grins. “Serving our country is the highest of honors.”

Joel suddenly tries not to think about Tommy blasted to bits halfway across the world in Afghanistan, his body in such bad condition all that he got left of his baby brother was a finger and two bent dog tags.  

Aiden beams.

“Well,” Derek barks, eyeing Y/N distastefully. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” he taunts. 

Joel sees where Aiden gets it from. This arrogant, bullying behavior. He shifts in his seat, ready to strike if necessary.

“Thanks,” she says very quietly. 

Derek grins in a kind of satisfaction that makes Joel want to go over there and punch his daylights out. He almost does too until Erica kicks his shin beneath the table and he controls himself. 

Y/N frowns. She looks over at Joel, then back at her father. Something ripples across her face, but it goes so quickly Joel cannot assign any meaning to it. But she looks ever so less scared somehow, more angry almost, but not quite.

And then after about ten minutes of somewhat peaceful eating and Derek making Aiden and Erica laugh with stupid anecdotes from his court cases while Joel and Y/N exchange looks, it happens.

Y/N’s hand reaches forward and knocks against her glass of coke. It goes flying over in Derek’s direction and drenches him in the sticky liquid, staining his suit.

“Sorry, Dad!” she squeaks immediately. “Oh my god, I–”

“You little slut!” he roars in response, almost like a reflex, backhanding Y/N across the face with lightning speed and accuracy. “Do you know how much this fucking suit cost!?”

The force of the blow is so strong it knocks Y/N from her chair onto the ground.

Before a coherent thought can even go through Joel’s head he is on the other man, slamming him up against the wall behind him by the throat.

“Joel, don’t you dare!” Erica yells, but it is too late.

Joel sees red and can’t exactly recall what he does next, but it goes something like this:

He squeezes around Derek’s throat and bangs his head backward against the wall a few times. The other man tries to get a punch in, but Joel ducks and kicks him in the balls. Derek crumples to the ground and Joel gives his chest another hard kick. He whines pathetically. 

Aiden gets up then, but Erica uses all of her strength to pull him back before he can get involved in the mix. He resists, shouts something that Joel cannot make out, but Erica manages to keep him from the two men with a great amount of effort and struggle. 

Derek is on the floor now and Joel is straddling him, landing punch after ruthless punch down onto his head. His nose begins to bleed, but Joel keeps punching. 

“HOW DARE YOU?” he roars down at the trembling, gushing man on the floor.

There is so much blood splurting all over his face, dripping down onto his expensive stained suit, and the floor that Derek almost stops looking like Derek. Joel sees Aiden’s face in his features. And then there is so much blood that it could be anyone’s face screaming back at him for mercy. It could be those creepy, asshole men at the bar. It could be the much bigger kid who always used to beat up Tommy every day in the schoolyard. It could be that damned head doctor who let his babygirl die. It could even be his no-good, bastard, alcoholic papá . 

He turns his head ever so slightly while still delivering punches. Erica has Aiden in a bear hug. She is screaming for Joel to stop. Aiden is bellowing something that sounds like, You bastard, I’ll kill you! Get off of him! I’ll kill you! And then Joel sees Y/N still on the floor from where she was knocked. Her face is still turned in the same direction it was slapped into, but she is not crying or screaming. Her eyes are dancing.

They connect with Joel’s. 

He knows he is supposed to be a good man for her, but she doesn’t seem to mind his deviant behavior. He stops then, though, because otherwise he thinks he will kill the man and he doesn’t want Y/N to experience that. He steals a glance at her again and she looks ever so slightly disappointed, but her wide-eyed expression tells Joel that Christmas has come early this year. She sends him a look of gratitude and Joel thinks that maybe he did act like a good man for her after all in the case of this vile, pathetic person who is supposed to be her father. 

 Finally, Joel stands up. He walks over and reaches out a bloody hand to Y/N and pulls her gently from the ground. Even after she’s standing upright she doesn’t let go of him.

Derek gets up after a while, wiping his sleeve over his face to try to tame the excess blood. Joel thinks that maybe he broke the man’s nose. He feels not a shred of remorse. The other man spits on the ground at Joel’s feet and leaves without saying goodbye to his ex-wife or children, slamming the front door behind him.  

Erica is not pleased with Joel’s behavior. Aiden is shouting and screaming. He breaks a plate by throwing it onto the floor with a loud crash. Joel leans over and grabs the knife his father gave him and sticks it in his front pocket so Aiden doesn’t feel tempted to use it. Y/N’s small hand is still in his. 

When Aiden is coherent enough to listen to instructions and all screamed out, Erica sends the children upstairs to bed. 

Joel tries to walk Y/N up to bed to tuck her in, but Erica stops him.

“ Not you,” she growls at Joel. 

She is livid in a way Joel has never seen before. For a moment, he seriously wonders if this is the end of their relationship. 

The kids scamper upstairs and Erica yells at Joel for ages. 

At a certain point, he stops listening. He doesn’t try to argue back. Doesn’t care to. He is actually calm now, though his chest is still heaving from the exertion, more calm than he’s been in ages. He knows that she will never understand why he had to do what he did to Derek. She lives in another reality where his violence is not acceptable if she has to bear witness to it. She doesn’t care about Y/N the way she is supposed to. Never has. Doesn’t know or see her. Not the way Joel does. Has too big a soft spot for Aiden. Tolerated Joel’s violence toward him though like a coward. Maybe deep down she knew he needed some kind of discipline? But when Joel lays a hand on her scumbag of an ex-husband that’s what’s too far? When he hurt her own daughter? When Joel himself was responsible for hurting her own precious son? Where was her outrage then? 

But he voices none of this. Pushes it down. He cannot lose her. Not this house, not the kids, not the financial security. Never Y/N. 

Erica banishes him to the couch for the first time in their relationship. Joel doesn’t mind. 

Hours later, late into the night, he hears soft footsteps walking down the stairs. He rolls over on the sofa to see who is approaching. He wonders if it is Erica there to apologize because he knows her well enough to know by now that she will forgive him eventually. She will forgive anything it seems. But it is not Erica at all.

“Joel?” a little voice asks quietly. “You up?”

“Yeah, baby,” he replies. “You okay? I’m so sorry he pulled that shit on you.”

Y/N shrugs. 

“Sorry I…I didn’t stop it before it happened,” he admits like a secret. 

She shrugs again.

“‘M sorry she made you sleep on the couch and all,” she replies.

“‘S no trouble. I don’t mind.”

“But it’s my fault you got in trouble in the first place.”

“Y/N, you ain’t done nothing wrong,” Joel tells her seriously. 

It’s hard to see her in the dark, but he thinks she’s grimacing guiltily. 

“I just wanted to say…” she begins hesitantly. “Thanks for like sticking up for me and all that. You…you’re the only one who does.”

Joel hides a smile from his babygirl. Something inside him likes being that person for her, he cannot lie to himself. Likes being the one she can count on. 

“You were like some MMA fighter,” she continues. “But then all the blood was like in The Shining .”

One day, not long ago, Joel had fallen asleep on the couch when The Shining came on and Y/N had watched the entire thing out of her own free will. That movie had frightened the shit out of him as a kid!

“I’m sorry if I scared you, sweetheart.”  

“You didn’t,” Y/N replies matter-of-factly.  “I wasn’t scared of what you did for a second…I know that’s messed up, but I kinda wanted you to…” 

She trails off.

Joel understands. 

“I kinda, please don’t get mad, but I sorta knocked the cup over on purpose,” she admits.

Joel’s eyebrows go way up on his forehead in surprise.

“It’s just,” she babbles quickly in self-defense. “Mom and Aiden were like giggling and hanging onto every dumb thing he said and it scared me. I thought they might let him keep coming around and start liking him again. And I also knew he hadn’t changed too. I could tell on account of how he was looking at me in that same mean way he always did. And I also knew you’d save me like you always do and you had this angry look in your eyes. I knew what you would do. I could feel it in my gut…”

“You little shit!” Joel smirks. 

He has to give her credit where credit was due – that was incredibly shrewd. Dangerous, but oh so clever. She played everyone in that room like a fiddle. Joel is honestly kind of proud.

“You mad?” she asks tentatively, biting her bottom lip.

“Nah,” Joel grins. “At you? Never. You shouldn’t have had to let him hurt you to get him away from you, but you protected yourself and that’s the most important thing. If I had to do it over, I would.”

Y/N smiles. 

She’s a fucked up little girl, but Joel is a fucked up man, and they both live in a fucked up world.

“Got your back,” he grunts. “Remember that. Now scurry along back to bed and get some rest.”

“G’night, Joel.”

*** 

Time passes. 

Erica forgives Joel of course and Derek never comes around again. 

Y/N and Aiden grow bigger. 

They go on camping trips and Joel teaches Y/N and Aiden how to fish. Never thought he would see the day where Aiden was willingly listening to his instructions, but the day comes anyway. Of course, the boy’s favorite part is cutting up the bloody fish guts like Joel’s used to be as a child. Y/N likes the part where you wait for the fish to bite. She sits next to Joel on the grassy river bank, the sun shining down on the lazy lake they are camping by, and smiles softly to herself.

Another two Christmases pass.

All the while, Joel is visiting the bar more and not necessarily to drink. His violent streak is getting worse somehow. He thinks, though he’s no goddamn shrink, that it might have something to do with the fact that he and Erica are not having any sex. Their relationship is still amicable and she is still sweet to him, and he tries his best to be to her too, but in the bedroom is mostly crickets. Joel jerks off, of course he does, but his fist is no substitute for a warm body. 

Joel causes such a scene at the bar he frequents the most, that the cops have to be called. He ditches the place before he can get arrested, but he’s getting worried about his behavior. Something must change.

So then come the women. They practically throw themselves at him. Never has he thought he was that attractive until women literally offer themselves up to him on a silver platter after saving them from some drunken creep. Joel had always declined until now. But Joel is only a man. He fucks them rough and dirty (with their permission of course – Joel is not a good man, and a lot of things, but he isn’t a fucking rapist) in the bathroom stalls, in the alleyways. In the moment it feels good and helps him let off some steam, but after he feels guilty. And it doesn’t satisfy him much more than with Erica if he really thinks about it. One thing that Erica has over these women who let him act out his violent self is the look of devotion in her eyes. That’s always the thing that gets Joel to cum in the end when he does get to fuck her.

 He would leave her, she isn’t that special to him if he’s honest, but she offers him a twofold sense of stability he has never known in his life. The first fold is the financial stability that has evaded him all of his days. The second is the feeling of family . Something so mundane and normal. And despite her flaws, she treats him so well – better than Sarah’s mother ever did. And most importantly, he doesn’t think he could leave Y/N. Not now. Not when she looks at him like he is the universe. Not even Aiden whom Joel has (begrudgingly) begun to see the traces of himself in. 

***

This particular muggy, summer day begins normally. Joel goes to work, fixes a Chevy Impala’s fluid tank. And then he walks in with an old, beat-up Honda Accord. 

His name is David, and Joel has heard of him through murmurings and bar stories and whispers at community barbeques. He’s a notorious neighborhood legend, whose house kids cross the street to avoid. He is the boogeyman at the end of the cul-de-sac. 

The story is, though through the many versions Joel has heard some of the details get muddled, that he kidnapped and raped a twelve-year-old girl (that part all versions agree on). Some say he was supposed to have ten years in prison, others say twenty, but whatever the number he got out in one for “good behavior.” In jail, he supposedly devoted his life to God and became a preacher.

Joel doesn’t want to help him, but his boss hisses at him that money is money and he’s going to serve the man whether Joel likes it or not. 

There’s something wrong with the exhaust pipe, so Joel bends down and takes a look at it. He opens the trunk and sees a box of Bibles next to a plastic bag of zip ties. His blood runs cold.

“The fuck is this shit doing in your car?” he growls, referring to the zip ties.

“The Bible is the word of God, Mr. Miller,” David replies, eyeing Joel’s nametag. “Would you like one? I’m always trying to spread The Good Word.” 

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about,” he spits, looking over to make sure his boss is not watching. 

“If you must know, though it’s none of your business, those zip ties are for my garden to help hold up my plants. They are remarkably useful,” David smiles sickeningly politely. 

And that’s when Joel loses it just a little.

He picks up the ties and pockets them.

“Listen here, you pedophile piece of shit,” he snarls. “If I hear about you stepping one goddamned pinky-toe out of line–”

“Hey, Joel!” A little voice calls.

The breath is knocked from Joel’s lungs.

Y/N bounds up to them holding a brown paper bag out of nowhere. 

“You forgot your lunch! Mom dropped me off so you could have it. It’s tuna though. I hate hate tuna. But you’ll eat anything so I hope it’s good for you at least,” she babbles.

“Baby,” Joel says very quietly, his heart thrumming in his ribcage. “Right now’s not a great time. Why don’t you go on home and I’ll catch up with you later?”

Then she notices David. By the fact that she doesn’t immediately leave, Joel determines she has no clue who he is.

“Hello, young lady,” David smiles, eyeing Joel knowingly. “I’m Pastor David.”

“Uh, hi,” she says.

Joel thinks he might actually kill him.

“Would you like something to take home with you?” he asks.

Y/N blinks in confusion as Joel steps in front of her.

“She’ll be going now, won’t you Y/N?” Joel suggests dangerously.

“Here,” David says before she can respond.

He hands her a black-covered bible.

Y/N takes it, looks at the cover, and laughs. Joel and David both look down at her in surprise.

“No offense, ‘Pastor David,”’ she smirks. “But I don’t believe in that shit. Here, you can have it back,” she offers.

He takes back the book somewhat defeatedly. And Joel grins internally.

“Bye, Joel,” she tells him, still smirking. 

She side-hugs him quickly and returns to Erica’s car. 

“How dare you even look at her–” Joel booms at the sad, pathetic excuse for a man once she is out of earshot. 

His hands are clenched into fists and they are shaking. Every part of him is on fire. 

“I think I’ll be going now,” David interjects lightly. “I can see my business isn’t welcome here. You have a beautiful daughter, Mr. Miller. Quite a mouth on her. Shame if something were to happen to her…Oh, the things someone like me could make her believe…”

Joel reaches back his fist to punch, to pummel, to kill, but suddenly, another hand grabs his and holds it in place. Joel’s boss has materialized behind him and is holding him back. Good thing too. It’s probably the only thing that saves Joel’s career and David’s life. 

David winks and drives away as the boss begins to reprimand Joel who is still shaking and fuming.

All he knows is this: If anyone touches his babygirl he will not hesitate to put them six feet under, no matter the cost to himself. He will not hesitate to get blood on his calloused hands. He will not hesitate to kill. And this time? His baby will not sustain a single scratch . He will not wait for her to get hurt before he acts. 

***

Joel wants nothing more than to go home and spend time with his babygirl and wife and even his step-son if he will allow, but there is blood popping and oozing and broiling and churning under his skin like billowing, bubbling lava. If he doesn’t do something about it soon he will explode worse than a volcanic eruption so he heads to the seediest bar he can think of. He makes his way inside and sits right up at the bar, already occupied by a few people. He orders a drink (his usual: whiskey on the rocks) and waits for the impending opportunity for violence he is sure is lying in wait.

He cannot believe the shit that came out of ‘Pastor-fucking-David’s’ sick, perverted mouth and that he almost lost his job over it. He lets that thought charge him up into a rage, his fists clenched so tightly they are beginning to ache in the joints. He cannot believe that disgusting little fucker had the audacity to say that horrible scummy bullshit in his presence when he would do anything to protect that innocent child. He takes a drink of his whiskey and knocks it back in one gulp. He would do anything , ‘Lord’ only knows. He snickers to himself sinisterly. 

And while he’s on the topic, fuck God! When had He ever done a single damn good thing for Joel his entire miserable life except maybe to give him Sarah and then take her away like she was nothing and not the entire light of the universe wrapped into a small, vulnerable person? Joel doesn’t know much about the bible, truth be told, but he remembers a few things from his Sunday school days. He remembers that people are created in the image of God and the stories he remembers most are from the Old Testament which heavily featured a God of absolute rage. Maybe that is the way he is god-like, built of anger and revenge and wrath and the sick, pathetic hunger for power that lurks inside most people. 

But he also remembers Jesus being meek and mild. Joel never understood that desire until he had Sarah and then Y/N in his care. If Joel could snap his fingers and make himself some fundamentally kind and caring man he would, but he can’t. Joel Miller is not a good man. He tried to be for Y/N, he truly did, but look at everything he’s done in the time he’s known her: he used Erica to get financial stability and roof over his head, he’s cheated on her numerous times, he beat Aiden, a child, and everyday the weight of that guilt grows greater as he begins to truly understand how wrong that was, and he beat his babygirl’s pathetic excuse for a father (but still her father) in front of her. He also beat people in bar fights and that time at the gym. And the thing is: is he even a little bit sorry about any of it – except for maybe what he did to Aiden? No, not even a little. And he’d do all of it again if it could mean getting to spend time with his babygirl, Y/N, again. His babygirl who FUCKING DAVID tried to threaten!

And the problem is: who knows what that fucker is capable of? The police and the judicial system let him out after one year which can only be described as a colossal moral failure and a massive miscarriage of justice. It wouldn’t take much for David to really figure out where they lived and grab Y/N and throw her in his trunk like he did that poor other little girl. Maybe that’s paranoid, but Joel knows better than most that when a man wants to do a dark thing he will find a way to do it. Joel does not want to live his life constantly looking over his shoulder as some horrendous pedophile lives freely. 

And then he turns his head to look down at the rest of the fairly busy bar and he sees him . None other than David himself, drinking a beer. Joel cannot believe his luck. It is like all of the light in heaven has aligned to give him such a gift. A part of him is screaming to not engage because Joel is sure he could kill him for what he said about Y/N. But the rest of him is already standing up and grabbing David by the shoulder and–

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get the fuck out of here now ,” he snarls. “Almost lost my job because of you, you sick fuck. You’re lucky I give you a warning and don’t wring your neck on the fucking spot.”  

David turns around, Joel’s fingers digging into his shoulder.

“Proverbs 24:1 and 2,” he quotes calmly. “‘Do not envy wicked men or desire their company; for their hearts devise violence, and their lips declare trouble.’”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means perhaps I will be leaving. I don’t care to spend my time with wicked men such as yourself. And I have many preparations to make for what is to come. How is your daughter doing since we last met?”

Joel’s heart runs cold. 

“Get my baby’s name out of your goddamned mouth .” 

“Hope we run into each other soon,” David grins as he gets off the barstool and dislodges himself from Joel’s grip. “There is a lot I could teach her.”

He turns to leave. Disgusting coward, Joel thinks. He could let the man go. But then what? Live in fear of him? Let his precious Y/N live in fear of him? Joel is tired of living in fear, of resigning to a cruel man in a cruel world, and he will never do that or let Y/N do that ever again. 

And then David leans in so close that Joel can smell the alcohol on his breath and the sweat on his skin.

“Can’t stop thinking about her pretty little hands around my–”

Joel doesn’t let him finish. In that moment he knows what will transpire. He picked this seedy-ass bar for a reason: so that no one will bother to stop him.

He lands the first punch with ease, doesn’t even feel the pain till minutes later. The force of the blow to David’s head is so strong he slams down into the ground. It is so violent that David’s eyelid starts to bleed and the skin around the impact spot becomes puffy and dark. 

David shouts for help, but no one in this place gives a fuck and even if they did everybody knows who he is and what he did so they don’t give a shit two times over. 

Joel continues the assault. Punch after punch reigns down on the other man as blood begins to coat his features. David tries to get a punch or two into Joel’s stomach, but Joel straddles each of his biceps and holds him down so he can continue hitting. The longer Joel hits, the better he feels. This time is different. This time he does not see the features of every man he’s ever hated in the face of his victim. This time he sees only David’s disgusting smirk in his mind’s eye. This time he only thinks about how he is saving Y/N from a lifetime of fear and cruelty. This time Joel will not let his adversary get a strike in first. This time he will be the one to stop the fate of impending devastation that lies in the palms of David’s shaking and broken hands. This time he can save her . 

When Joel is done with his hands, he is panting heavily. He moves on to his feet, kicking the man’s gut sadistically, his trembling hands, his face. Crunch , goes David’s skull. And then he is not moving or breathing.

Joel stops.

A lick of fear trails against the inside of his stomach, but the rage, always the rage warms his stomach like a rush of flames.

So he keeps going. He bends back down and squeezes the man’s throat just to make sure. It’s good he did too because David’s bloodshot, viens-having-burst eyes snap open and David makes a pathetic little squealing noise and Joel squeezes harder, rougher, with more conviction.

In the end, it takes longer than he thought it would. 

Joel only stops when he hears sirens blaring in the distance. He looks up for the first time since the assault started and sees all of the patrons staring at him in revulsion and fear. The bartender actually has the phone in her hand. Joel guesses she was the one to finally call the cops. He guesses he was so sadistic and violent that even this shitty place had seen enough. He thinks to run, briefly, but where would he run to? Everything he has ever wanted in life is now going to be closed off to him. But he saved Y/N and that makes everything worth it. It has to have been worth it.

Joel puts two scarred, calloused fingers to David’s pulse point, as blood (his and David’s) drips down from his knuckle onto the wooden floor and feels nothing.

When the cops handcuff him and take him away, he doesn’t resist. He comes quietly. He cannot ever really be a good man for Y/N, he understands that now, but at least now she and he may know some peace of mind after what he’s done.

***

The time leading up to the trial is a blur. 

Erica pays for an excellent lawyer, but divorces him on the spot. It seems there are some things even she will not forgive, and apparently murder is one of them. She allows the children to see him one last time in cold, sterile police interrogation room. A court-appointed child advocate social worker must be present. They allow him to have his handcuffs taken off for the first time since he was arrested. The kids are told he accidentally killed someone in a bar fight and for legal reasons he leans into the “accidental” part. 

Aiden comes in first. He knew who David was and tells Joel he did the right thing. Joel is surprised. He reaches out a limp hand, dirt caked under his fingernails, and shakes Joel’s for the first time since they’ve known each other and they part ways on good terms.

“You’re not my dad,” Aiden tells him quietly. “But you always put up a good fight to be there.”

And he leaves.

Joel is more touched than he wants to believe.

Y/N’s visit is much more difficult.

“How could you!?” she screams, standing by the door the second she sees him as he sits at the interrogation table, his chair turned toward her. 

At first Joel thinks she means how could he killl another human being. Y/N didn’t seem to know who David was after all. But that’s not what she is mad about.

“How could you leave me!?” she shouts, tears in her eyes. “You’re going to be taken away from me! Mom is leaving you because of this and that means you aren’t like my dad anymore. You’re going to forget all about me and never get to see me again because you killed some dumb man who tried to give me a bible?”

“He was not a good man,” is all Joel can say. 

He can’t be the one to tell her more, hasn’t told anyone how David had threatened her. Not even his lawyer. He doesn’t want to scare her, doesn’t want to admit to anyone he let those words even get to leave that shit stain’s mouth. 

“I don’t care!” she shouts again. “I want you!”

And then she bursts into tears and runs into his chest and Joel holds her against his orange jumpsuit and starts to feel tears trickling down his own cheeks.

“Never gonna forget about you,” he nearly scolds her into hair. “How could you ever think that, baby? You’re my babygirl. I’ll get out one day and come right back to you, understand?”

“But Mom–”

“You’ll be grown by the time I get out and won’t have to worry about what she says. But I’ll tell you this: you might feel different about me by the time your grown up and however you feel I want you to know I’ll respect that. But I ain’t gonna forget about you. Not ever.” 

“Your time is up,” the court-appointed social worker states. 

“No!” Y/N shouts, burying herself deeper into Joel’s embrace. “NO! I’m not leaving! I won’t leave you!”

Joel hugs her back tightly, crying into the top of her head as she sobs softly into his chest. 

In the end, the social worker has to pull her away as she screams.

“I love you, Y/N!” he calls to her as the social worker drags her from him. “Never gonna forget you, babygirl. Remember that.”

All Joel can hear back is a broken wail.

***

Erica attends the trial; the kids are forbidden. Joel’s defense claims it was a drunken accident and goes for manslaughter. Because he killed a known child molester he has no trouble while he waits in jail. He is even considered a hero by some. No one tries to fuck with him and that’s how Joel would prefer it since if he gets into too many fights it will just add to his sentence and he must get out and get back to his babygirl if she’ll still have him. His lawyer tells him not to mention the threats that David made toward Y/N because it will look like more of a reason that Joel would have had to intentionally kill him as opposed to accidentally like the manslaughter plea would have the court believe. Joel listens. He does exactly what he’s told because this lawyer is good and he needs to get out someday for christ sake.

In the end, he gets ten years and his lawyer tells him he could get eight for good behavior.

Eight years, if Joel can manage it.

They take him away to prison in handcuffs. Erica sobs. It is the last time he sees her.

***

Joel always wondered if his temper would land him in prison. Now that he’s here things go surpringly well. He gets a reputation for being the murderer of a child molestor and people respect him, listen to him when he bothers to speak. He keeps things in order and people start to refer to him as the “pod boss.” He also reads a lot in his cell, tries to help people with their cases and appeals if he can. And if someone steps out of line, Joel is more than happy to put them in their place so long as he can avoid attention from the guards, who he actually mostly gets along with to their faces, but behind their backs beats people to a pulp. No one ever dares to snitch on him and he is considered on the right track to get out for good behavior early. 

Time passes — painfully long stretches of time.

He has a lot of time to think, to read. He reads every book in the prison library over the time he is incarcerated. He reads parenting books, self-help books, books on trauma, books on abuse, books on anger management, books on meditation, books on spirituality (nothing sticks in that regard though, he is still furious like God, but less so these days). Somehow his anger has started to simmer down a notch.   

But he worries his babygirl will forget about him, or worse grow to hate him. He’s not sure he’ll survive that.    

Luckily, or he might have withered away and died, somehow Y/N convinces Erica to let her write him a letter once a month and have one call with him on Christmas. 

Christmases quickly become his favorite day of the year. 

Y/N writes him religiously. She talks about how angry she is at him, how she misses him, how she finally fixed the motor on Joel’s old pickup truck, how some boy gave her a love letter on Valentine’s Day, how she thinks of him every day.

Joel never tells her what David said about her, lets her believe he is just some violent, drunken idiot. He writes back how much he misses her, how he read a new book this week, how prison food is shit, how he’d probably greet that boy with a shotgun if he thinks he’s getting anywhere with his babygirl, how his whole heart beats for her.

She’s allowed to send him one photo a year, her most current school photo, and Joel hangs them on the wall of his cell so he can see her beaming at him at his highest and lowest moments along with the tiny picture of Sarah he managed to save from his wallet. 

Aiden even sends him a card each Father’s Day. It never has anything written in it except for whatever stupid pun or text the card came with, but Joel reads between the lines with that one. Each one seems to whisper to him louder and louder, I love you and I forgive you. Joel writes him back, “Thanks, kiddo. -Joel” He hope that conveys the thousands of sorrys he wants to scream from the rooftops and say straight to the boy’s face. He will someday when he gets out. He makes himself promise. He hears from Y/N when Aiden joins the marines. 

When Joel gets to actually hear Y/N’s voice on the old prison phone it’s like the most beautiful sound he has ever heard except for maybe Sarah’s voice. She babbles away about her life and what’s she’s up to and he hangs on every word like gospel. He barely gets a word in, but prefers it that way. Wishes he could hear her singing. Once, when she’s sixteen, and sounds so woefully grown up it hurts Joel’s entire heart, she hums a little absentmindedly and he can’t get the sweet sound out of his head. Her love for him never seems to waver and that is a blessing that Joel will never forget, the only thing he would thank this cruel God for. And of course, his love for her never wavers either. She is the only beacon of light for him in this dark and mundane existence. She is his everything.

***

When Y/N is eighteen and no longer under her mother’s control, she comes to visit him in person. This is the first time they have seen each other in six years. Despite their loving correspondence, Joel is nervous to see her for the first time since her childhood. He worries about how awkward it might be.

When he sees her walking into the dinky little family meeting room, his entire mode of existence changes.

She looks so beautiful, so grown-up. Sure she had always been a cute little kid, Joel always thought that, but now she is a woman. Tears come to Joel’s eyes. When her eyes connect with his, he feels so seen .

He tries to get a word out, but before he can she is running to him, into his arms and Joel has never felt something so perfect in his entire life. He knows he has never felt a love like this before. Not even with Sarah…something about this is different somehow? Joel is not too in touch with his feelings, but he’s trying to be more attentive to them these days with nothing left to do but read about such topics as “emotional regulation” and “mindfulness.” He’ll come back to this thought later though…

Y/N begins to babble into his ear, something about missing him and not wanting it to be awkward, but this is the furthest from awkward Joel has ever felt.

Joel has never been a man of many words so all he can think to say is,

“Missed you, babygirl.”

She grins at that, brighter than all the suns of all the planets in the universe (Joel has been reading about those too) and he laughs for the first time in what feels like a lifetime.

She laughs too, wipes tears from her eyes, and says,

“Missed you too, Joel. More than you know.”

Joel thinks that can’t possibly be true for that is all he has known for the last six years and possibly his entire life: missing her.

She comes once a month, drives an hour just to see him, and she tells him about college and later her very own shitty apartment. Her mother has thrown herself into her work and Aiden is serving his second tour. She makes good grades and has a stable boyfriend that treats her well, she swears. Joel couldn’t be happier for her, except the boyfriend business does make him want to crush that little fucker’s head in for some reason.

***

The last time Y/N comes to visit before his release (eight years to the day for good behavior) (she is 20 damn years old already!) something feels different to Joel. When he hugs her to greet her, he’s suddenly very aware of her body, the curves of it, her softness. Her hair smells so good, he doesn’t want to let go of her and then to his intense dismay and shock he feels himself getting a little excited down south. Immediately, he lets go of her, feeling like a pervert, praying she didn’t and doesn’t notice. He doesn’t see any obvious signs from her and the two sit down (Joel rather quickly) at the flimsy, nailed-down table and they talk of Joel’s impending release. All the while, Joel is trying to stay calm. He convinces himself it was just an accident and that he hadn’t been around any women in what felt like an eternity and that’s what  led him to get worked up. But when Y/N leaves to go home he feels a kind of dull longing in the bottom of his gut. A different kind of longing then what he had felt for a younger Y/N. Joel tells himself not to repress for the first goddamn time in his life and let himself feel. And he does. He feels butterflies and yearning and need, a great big need inside himself. And then he knows what else he feels: the gut-wrenching, unquenchable sensation of love and beneath that, primal, base, and self-loathing: desire . 

In his solo cell (that he has acquired because he is the pod boss and respected) he jerks off to those thoughts, touches himself to those feelings. When he cums unusually hard, he feels an overwhelming amount of shame. Of this, Joel knows, he will never ever tell another soul. Joel also knows he will not hurt his babygirl any more than he already has, intentionally or not, not ever. But then again, being a good, upstanding man has never really quite been in his arsenal, has it?

Tags (LMK if you wanna be tagged!): @toxicanonymity @motelprincess444 @epicrainbowsheep @anama-cara @sheepdogchick3

@denileisariver @lochnymph @mewantpeepaw @fandomdaydreamer @r3dheadedwitch

PLEASE COMMENT LIKE REBLOG IM BEGGING IM PLEADING IM CRYING

PART 2

Violent Heart Masterlist

Full Masterlist of all my work

[sourslip]

I'm still reeling from that reveal/scene (like most of us, apparently) so bear with the chewing-on-glass scatterbrain but I think the surprise has actually made me appreciate Laura's RP choices even more

going into that scene set up my expectations for some comforting, maybe some discussion of what Laudna was going through post-party split, but overall I was expecting - at most - some cute and friendly intimacy reaffirming they are Very Good Friends

AND THEN ITS LAURA BAILEY WITH THE CHAIR!!!

"Can I kiss you?" felt like it came on so fast without any specific queues (like what we've seen in previous romances where one or both PCs will name their desires in conversation with someone else before acting on it) but it also made perfect sense in retrospect

ever since Laudna came back, Imogen has been sitting on something, always seeming to hold back some burning comments here and there. she was also insistent that Laudna would get to choose everything going forward, and part of that I think meant Laudna having the freedom to think on a response to any question of further intimacy without even a chance of Imogen overhearing. Laudna could have the freedom to wonder if she did want to get in touch with "that part of her mind", to think about how painful, scary, or awkward that might be after decades of being shut off to it.

Laudna has some pretty intense self-image and self-worth issues to work through, but she's also had 2 years of Imogen in her head able to pick up on her wants without having to ever voice them and, ultimately, without having to accept that she does have her own wants independent of the people around her. Laudna seems to have only just started to get in touch with her anger, and that kind of repressed emotion that comes out in the healing process is one of the less intentional ones! Girl hasn't felt safe enough to actually think about her wants, let alone try communicating them!

Imogen and Laudna reconnected after their time apart and discovered that they - as Marisha pointed out in 4SD - have grown into different people, and that resulted in the tension of the first moments in the scene where they kind of made quasi-small talk. They were figuring out how to connect with each other again but, rather than return to their old dynamics (that kept them stagnant), Imogen set them up to try exploring something new and maybe a little healthier with communication going forward.

I think Imogen has been working towards this for a while, and while the circlet was the last "thing" she needed to help force them to communicate better, having the time apart gave them an opportunity to try something new.

Imogen has held a lot back before because she's too tuned into other peoples thoughts, and Laudna held off exploring her own wants and desires for too many reasons - but she is starting to get more in touch with her self-interested emotions. So they've both been tip-toeing towards a change for a while, but change like that can sometimes be like getting into cold water; at a certain point you just have to commit and jump in the rest of the way.

So to me, not only was Imogen trying to give Laudna the freedom to make her decision without an audience (the talk about the circlet), but she also made the most of the new distance between them to push them both towards a change, one that challenged both of them to be more honest with themselves, each other, and about what they want from their relationship.

Laura Ultimate-Romancer Bailey everyone

[yuri-is-online]

Been brainrotting lately and now I present to you what I think is an underused story beat for Yuu. What if “Yuu” isn’t even the prefect’s real name?

Considering that Yuu’s first experience in Twisted Wonderland is waking up in a coffin, wandering around an obviously foreign place, and being questioned by a suspicious man in a crow mask surrounded by people in black hooded robes… I just think most people would not give their real name in such a sketchy situation.

Fast forward to when Yuu is more comfortable with the cast and there is both comedy and angst potential here. On one hand, the reactions to the deception could be pretty funny. (Cue a “woe is me” from Crowley. Of course he can’t find a way home for you when he doesn’t have your real name!) On the other, this could be a great way of exploring the prefect having a crisis. Yuu already lost so much in being taken to Twisted Wonderland, and now in a way even the prefect’s name has been taken.

What do you think?

waking up in a coffin, wandering around an obviously foreign place, and being questioned by a suspicious man in a crow mask surrounded by people in black hooded robes…

Annon, annon, annon, when you put it like that it sounds like Yuu woke up in the middle of a cult ritual of some sort. Which I suppose if you were an edgy Night Raven student idia you might argue that the enrollment ceremony totally is as an excuse not to go

But to be more serious, I have seen a few memes about this concept and I like it a lot σ(￣、￣=) It's a fun character concept, it's not everyday you get a chance to re-invent yourself completely.

That being said, just based off of the few dialogue options Yuu has at the start, I think Yuu is implied to believe that they are dreaming:

Which honestly doesn't make this idea any less valid. If you're dreaming about waking up in the middle of some weird necromancer's rite, why not give him a fake name? It's not meant to be serious anyway. Just go with the flow and hope things don't get too weird (and get offended when your dream doesn't give you magic powers) until it's too late and you realize everyone thinks your name really is that bad joke you made.

If you want to get darker, maybe Yuu really did think they died. A black carriage pulling a coffin really only goes to a funeral, and death has been depicted as an unmanned coach with black horses. Maybe Yuu is only just coming to grips with the fact that they really are alive when they see Riddle overblot and he hurts them. Maybe they now are sitting next to two people who have started to think about them as a friend, a really close one. Maybe they think Yuu is really brave because they charged headlong into danger without a second thought, and won, twice now. Maybe Yuu cries themselves to sleep that night because in a way... you died so yuu could live.

As for reactions, Crowley and the other staff members I think would be the most dramatic, followed by Adeuce and Grim. Jack I can see accepting your reasons and not thinking too hard about it, maybe even respecting your survival instincts, while Epel... well he says he's mad but mostly he's just concerned. He knows what it feels like to have two dueling parts of yourself and trying to find the middle ground. Ortho would be excited, you have a secret identity just like a magical girl/super sentai/anime idol/superhero take your pick really. He certainly doesn't mind getting to know you all over again.

Sebek screams at you for being a threat to Wakasama but it's clear to everyone who actually knows him that he's really just worried about the amount of stress you put on yourself. He would hate for you to have the same issues with self loathing he does. And Malleus? Well he lied to you about who he was because he was worried you would be afraid, even though you didn't know he existed. It would be very petty for him to hold a grudge against you for doing the same.

In general I think this would be something the others would have an easier time understanding as opposed to Yuu's sense of alienation or loneliness at not having magic. Identity issues are common themes in fiction, so I could see them actually seeing it as a problem as opposed to an abstract problem like no government papers (since these kids with one obvious exception don't do taxes.) But it would make for a great way to explore the prefect having a crisis just as you say, in a way it's the perfect example for every problem they might have with being in Twisted Wonderland.

[saintsenara]

Thoughts on remadora?

thank you very much for the asks, anons!

while they are by no means my otp, i really enjoy remadora as pairing - and i think they’re fully up there among the canon couples in terms of being an amazing vehicle through which to explore all sorts of questions about life and love - which i am aware is a sufficiently controversial statement that it involves an immediate engagement with some discourse…

because remadora girlies [gender neutral] get an enormous amount of shit within the fandom, particularly from fans who consider wolfstar to be a more plausible pairing for lupin than tonks. i have seen remadora shippers called homophobes for simply enjoying the couple, justified with the bizarre idea that it disrespects remus' relationship with sirius [so... the non-canon one?] to put them together. i have seen tonks turned into a pathetic shrew who is trying to keep remus from the real love of his life by trapping him with an unwanted baby. i have seen remadora shippers get a lot of the usual stuff that people who prefer the canon-endgame couples do [that to ship a canon pair is boring, that it is indicative of a lack of talent, that it indicates an uncritical support for jkr] magnified to eleven because tonks has the temerity to be a barrier to remus’ relationship with the fandom’s favourite hot and brooding man.

obviously, this is bullshit - primarily because its unreasonable and cruel to invest so much time and energy being mean to people because of their harry potter shipping preferences [fandom should never be that deep].

but it’s also a disappointment to me personally because it means that it can be very hard to find the sort of remadora i like without looking like i’m coming to contribute to the pile-on. because where many remadora fans and i don’t see eye-to-eye is that i have absolutely no interest in thinking about them as a relationship which is actually functional. and, all too often, i find myself sifting through fics which do prefer to interpret them like this - as romantic and passionate and stable - largely, i think it’s fair to say, as a defensive move against the tide of “urgh, imagine shipping that” nonsense - even though all the evidence of canon is that they are… very much not.

i am aware of the pottermore article which smoothes the edges of lupin’s canonical reaction to tonks’ feelings for him in half-blood prince - but, while i read this as something of a retcon to make the relationship more palatable, i also don’t think that assuming that both tonks and lupin’s attraction to each other was sincere precludes them being as dysfunctional as they canonically are. i don’t go in for the common anti-remadora argument that tonks “forces” him into a relationship with her - it’s clear in half-blood prince that it’s not only her who has discussed her feelings with molly and arthur weasley, lupin is definitely flirting with her when they pick harry up in order of the phoenix, lupin is an adult man [no matter other power imbalances between him and tonks - such as the fact that she is an agent of the state which oppresses him] who possesses the capacity to refuse her advances, and - since teddy’s conception is not immaculate - he has no issue with enjoying a sexual relationship with her even if he then wants to run away from the product of that.

instead, what i like with remadora is that they reveal something which goes against the grain of the rest of the series: that love is not always enough. throughout the seven-book canon, we see time and time again the idea that love - and, crucially, love-as-noble-suffering and love-as-sacrifice - is enough to overcome any problem. entire civil service collaborating with a terrorist regime? don’t trouble yourself, love has won. your mother dying in childbirth leaving you to be neglected in a state institution? your own fault you’re not interested in love.

i understand the genre reasons for this, but i also love the way in which lupin especially exists on the margins of these genre conventions [just as he exists on the margins of wizarding society!]. i’m always struck in deathly hallows that he’s the only person who’s actually realistic about the demands of war - particularly when he tells harry that it is breathtakingly naive for him to think he can get through the fighting without having to shoot to kill - and that part of him having to be shuffled out of the way when harry tells him to return to the pregnant tonks is because, were the story focused on realism, the idea that a wanted man who is considered an unhuman by the state fleeing in order to guarantee the safety of his wife and unborn child becomes eminently reasonable and harry's defense of the nuclear family embarrassingly unradical.

and so i like the idea of lupin seeing tonks - and tonks seeing lupin - initially as just a bit of fun, as the two of them being just two chill single people who think the other is hot and interesting and want to bang because of it.

[which is something fandoms in general really struggle with as a concept. we like epic love stories - and you won't find me objecting to that! - but we're less good at thinking about casual sexual attraction or transient friendships, and how these can be transformative and meaningful without having to end up going any sort of distance.]

and i then like the idea of the relationship being forced into a profundity it doesn’t really have the juice to sustain by the sheer avalanche of grief which besets the two of them - sirius, dumbledore, mad-eye, ted - and by the pressure of the war and the fact that the order is scrambling and the hangover of remus' self-destruction in half-blood prince which makes each cling to the other as a life-raft. i like remadora as something codependent and messy and strange and sad, and i don’t think this prevents it being sincere and fun and based in mutual attraction, but instead that these positive qualities can exist in conjunction with the fact that, without the war, it would have been a summer of fucking and that was probably it.

on tonks herself, i don’t think i can say it better than @evesaintyves in this meta on her character. i’ve been really uncomfortable with quite a lot of stuff i’ve seen recently which has taken against the idea that tonks can be meaningfully read as queer on the basis of what we find in the text, above all because it so often comes with the implication that one cannot imagine her in her canon endgame pairing and presume that she’s something other than straight or cisgender. eve sets out an excellent case for tonks as bolshy and liberated and in tune with herself and fun and confused and in flux and still figuring stuff out about who she is and where she’s going - and this translates, may i say, to an astonishingly beautiful way of writing her, lupin, and the dysfunction inherent between them which i highly recommend you read.

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Apr 9th

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1. ITMF fics with (a) good and well-developed original characters! i really enjoyed "I told you when I came I was a stranger" and would really love to read more like these. also looking for (b) fics where wwx is brought back in an OC's body, where their identity matters to the plot (eg politically), like "The Housewife’s Guide to Causing Chaos" (wwx brought back as a yu) & "Everyanything" (wwx brought back as qin su).

would still like wangxian to be tgt, & complete/actively ongoing fics only please. thank you!!!!! @potatokunst

1B)

There's the wwx resurected in other people's bodies comp, but more specifically,

❤️ Beauty and the Boot by PTchan (T, 44k, wangxian, summoned by f!oc, Canon Divergence, Romantic Comedy, Genderbending, Denial, Fem!WWX, WangXian kids, Crack-ish, WIP) would probably fit

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2. Hey there! For the next itmf:

I want fics where wwx is in love with lwj, and he knows it too. So I don’t care if its time travel or anything like that, I just wanna see wwx treating lwj good/like a spouse while being aware that he’s doing it.

And even greater would be, if lwj was very much confused/ in gay panic mode/ horny for it .

Thank you :3 @desperation-is-my-middle-name

two guys r in love thats literally it by victortor (M, 11k, wangxian, Time Travel, the fluffiest thing ive ever written)

When the Words Stop Coming by mrcformoso (T, 7k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, POV WWX, POV LWJ, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Canonical Character Death, Love Confessions, Rejection, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Trauma, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending) more of an angst take honestly but it fits the prompt?

And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 139k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together)

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3. Hi! For ITMF, can you suggest fics where it picks up soon after the novel ends and explores wangxian’s relationship and how it develops?

Or just fics where wwx learns to take up space/ adjust to gusu and in lwj’s heart?

Thank you for your help, always!

And Yet Here You Are by cosmicmilktea (T, 10k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Domestic Fluff, Cloud Recesses, settling down, Separation Anxiety, Teacher WWX, very light angst, Chief Cultivator LWJ)

call me home and I'll build you a throne by anaphoricae (E, 51k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Cloud Recesses, Getting Together, Developing Relationship, Self-Indulgent, Gusu Lan Juniors Dynamics, Touch-Starved, Non-Sexual Intimacy... and then Sexual Intimacy, Lán Juniors Gossiping about Wangxian, as a treat, Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, little hurt lots of comfort, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Farmer WWX, Chief Cultivator LWJ, iMutual Pining, Communication, Quietly Falling Into a Married Life, Light Angst, Wholesome, POV LWJ, POV WWX, LWJ in braids agenda, Sharing a Bed, WWX's Birthday, Semi-Public Sex, Cold Springs, Inventor WWX, Jealous WWX, turkish translation)

I hope that you will come and meet me by feyburner (M, 28k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Love Letters, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Literal Sleeping Together, Intimacy, CQL Compliant, No Plot Just Feelings, First Time, Two soulmates figuring their shit out, Let Hanguang-jun talk about his feelings agenda, Podfic Available)

my age has never made me wise by idrilka (E, 63k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Part-epistolary, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Marriage Proposal, Homecoming, One Brain Cell WWX Strikes Again)

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4. hello! for itmf any fics with wei wuxian and mo xuanyu? smth like i'll take a secondhand monster by stratisphyre

tysm<3 @r3n-vy

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5. Hi! Hope u r having a great day!

Do you know any good wangxian fics where LWJ leaving cloud recesses along with A-yuan and raise him on his own? You know, before WWX's return? I remember reading one where LWJ competely fell off the radar once. Sadly, i can't recall the name. Pretty please @grrumpywoof

❤️ And Miles To Go Before I Sleep by Glitterbombshell (T, 23k, WIP, WangXian, Heavy Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, LXC is not really a good brother in this sorry, Canon Divergence, rogue cultivator!lwj) It's a WIP that hasn't updated since 2020, but there's this

Home isn't Where the Heart is. by Hauntcats (Not rated, 7k, wangxian) Jingyi comes along too here

The Best I Can by Zephyr (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish) (T, 26k, LJY & WWX, wangxian, WWX talking to his donkey, Canon Divergence, Light Angst, Drama, Recovery, Coming of Age, Secret Identity Fail, Friendship, Rogue Cultivator LWJ, Road Trips, POV Multiple, Happy Ending)

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6. Hi!!! Thank you, you are all amazing and this place is magnificent!! Well, In the mood for... A) Fics were Wei Wuxian raised or helped raised the Juniors, all of them, modern if possible, I just finished The Edge of Night by Hobbsy3 and the relationship with the kids is so amazing, even if is not the central theme also B) Zombie themes fics, similar to the previous one, modern to if posible with happy ending!! Thank you so much for everything!! Be well :) @monicaop21

6A)

🔒 and having a marvelous time by varnes (E, 108k, WangXian, Yúnmèng Siblings, Sound of Music AU, (i know!!! i know. stay with me on this.), Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Family Feels, spies to lovers???, Protective Siblings, Sometimes You Just Want Your Dads To Admit They're Your Dads, Angst with a Happy Ending, podfic of and having a marvellous time by varnes by Spinifex) not modern but WWX raises all the kids

6B)

Darkness Before the Dawn by Selenay (E, 64k, wangxian, Zombie Apocalypse, Modern With Magic, Necromancer WWX, Reunions, toddler A-Yuan, There Was Only One Bed, There are zombies but not graphically horrific zombies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Find a home in the middle of an apocalpyse)

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7. Academic rivals wangxian? :<

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8. For the next itmf! I wonder if there are any fics where the lan and nie bros are really close and then wwx gets added into the mix, and there are shenanigans! Things like the lan/nie bros having a problem that only wwx can solve, or the bros discover how wwx's been treated by other people and get super protective. I just read With This Shadowed Blade and discovered that I very badly want to read more of this dynamic! Thank you all!

Come Around and Stay by trippednfell (M, 160k, wangxian, modern, slow burn, kid fic, found family, it gets worse before it gets better, PTSD, blood and injury, dissociation, trauma, angst w happy ending, musicals, alternating pov, JC & WWX reconciliation, hurt/comfort, panic attacks) 

Debts of a Child Part 2 by Hauntcats (M, 111k, WangXian, YZY Bashing, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Angst and Feels, lots of anger, JC Bashing, not Jiang friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending, Content warning for icky spiders in later chapters.)

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9. Pls pls next itmf secret relationship wangxian? Bonus points if it’s CRA but modern au or post canon or whatever is great too I just need it (I have read a few where their families don’t believe they’re dating but I want them hiding it)

Silenced With A Kiss by NinjaKK (E, 132k, WIP, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Flirting, Teen Romance, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Soft WangXian, WWX in WWX’s Body, Secret Relationship, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Dates, Inventor WWX, Genius WWX, Canon Divergence, Protective LWJ, Protective WWX, Ripple Effect, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Optional Smut, Supportive LWJ, BAMF WWX, Inappropriate Use of Gūsū Lán Forehead Ribbon, Has an Angry LWJ Kink, Drunk LWJ, Gusu Lan Alcohol Tolerance, No Golden Core Transfer, WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect)

A Guide on How to (not) Have a Secret Relationship by Grapesey (YumGrapeJuice) (T, 6k, wangxian, Established Relationship, Secret Relationship, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Boys Kissing, they are horribly in love, WWX is a Little Shit, LWJ is So Whipped, WWX is obsessed with LWJ's hair, JC is So Done)

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10. For the next itmf could I see if we could find any fics where mo xuanyu is adopted by wangxian. I’ll take both modern au and canon type fics

a thousand fragile and unprovable things by theLoyalRoyalGuard (G, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Trans Male Character, Trans MXY, MXY Deserves Happiness, Best Dads Wangxian, Handwaving The Legal System With The Power of LWJ, A little bit of angst, mostly soft, Happy Ending, Gender Happiness, Let LWJ Wear Skirts Agenda, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note)

silk linked together by theLoyalRoyalGuard (G, 6k, LWJ & MXY, Wangxian, Modern, Autistic LWJ, Cellist LWJ, LWJ, Runs A Rabbit Rescue, MXY Deserves Happiness, Fluff) which ends w/ both wangxian relationship and Mo Xuanyu adoption in process.

🔒 and having a marvelous time by varnes (E, 108k, WangXian, Yúnmèng Siblings, Sound of Music AU, (i know!!! i know. stay with me on this.), Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Family Feels, spies to lovers???, Protective Siblings, Sometimes You Just Want Your Dads To Admit They're Your Dads, Angst with a Happy Ending, podfic of and having a marvellous time by varnes by Spinifex) (link in #6A)

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11. Hello! ITMF current wips? For the last few months Truth Will Out has been super fun to keep up with, but now it is complete I would love to find other wips to follow! Any genre (canon, au, or modern) and any topic/plot! Preferably something that updates with relative frequency, like weekly or every other week. Thank you so much!

No Matter What You Are by LilyFaraday (M, 209k, wangxian, WIP, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Female WWX, MXY is a girl in this one and WWX has to deal with it, Genderbending, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, A lot of comedy coming from WWX dealing with being a girl, and also using it to his advantage, Marriage of Convenience, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, no miscarriage)

A Matter of Time series by mrcformoso (E, 84k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, graphic depictions of violence, underage, LWJ pov, JC pov, dark LWJ, manipulation, grooming, teen body adult mind for LWJ, happy ending for wangxian, problematic consensual underage sex, blood & violence, insane LWJ, manic LWJ) My current MDZS WIP is the A Matter of Time Series, it's currently on worlbuilding extras before the actual sequel. It's update about monthly but considering the amount of thought and worldbuilding and the size of this series I think that's pretty fast hahaha make sure to read the warnings first!

once upon a time, 很久很久以前 by gentil-minou (Flyingsuits) (M, 69k, wangxian, LSZ & WWX, LSZ & LWJ, WIP, Modern, Canon Divergence, Transmigration, of the townwide variety, Amnesia, of the nearly everyone variety, Mystery, of the shenanigans variety, Not Everyone Dies AU, WWX Has Self-Esteem Issues, WWX is sad and down bad, Single Parent LWJ, except a-yuan runs away to find his other dad, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Minor Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, Once Upon a Time Fusion, Curses, part of the fun is figuring out how to make these characters as miserable as possible :) ) may i offer up my wip? Updates arent thay frequent cause each chap is over 15k but im hoping to post the next chap this month!

🔒 The Second Hand Unwinds by trulywicked (E, 51k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, WIP, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Time Travel Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Not Yunmeng Jiang Sect Friendly, Not Jiāng Family Friendly, Not YZY Friendly, Time Travelling LWJ, Protective LWJ, Fluff, Minor Angst, Minor Character Death, JGS is his own warning, Wooing, LWJ is romantic af, Inventor WWX, Genius WWX, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective Gusu Lan Sect, Supportive LXC, Good Uncle LQR, WWX Protection Squad)

A-Yuan's Big Adventure by KatanaHatake (G, 13k, wangxian, WIP, Time Travel, transmigrator LSZ, Found Family, Canon Divergence, Parents LWJ & WWX, People believing WWX birthed A-Yuan, Eventual Happy Ending, Accidental Baby Acquisition)

We Meet at the Thousandth Step by Admiranda, Rynne (T, 273k, wangxian, CSSR/WCZ, WIP, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, CSSR & WCZ Live, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Different First Meeting, Night Hunts, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Romance, Drama, Fluff, Strangers to married, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Everyone Lives AU, Developing Relationship, Minor Violence, Case Fic, Mystery, Flirting, WWX's Canon-Typical Flower Flirting, Arson, There Was Only One Bed, Getting Together, First Kiss, Meeting the Parents, Resolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Romantic Tension, WWX Is a Good Big Brother, New Relationship Bliss, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Blood and Injury, Yiling siblings)

🧡 The Shade of Old Trees by Kryal (T, 266k, WIP, WangXian, Ridiculously Long Notes, History, Canon Divergence, Modern AU, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, Slow Life, Action/Adventure, Magic Returns, BAMF WWX)

At heart by apathyinreverie (M, 28k, wangxian, WIP, Dark LWJ(Ish), Amnesia, WWX gets to be Not Okay after the BM, Hurt WWX, Recovery, Caring, Protective LWJ, Possessive LWJ, some definite manipulation, but not everything is as it seems, not nearly as dark as the tags make it sound, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Reveal, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, kind of, Domestic WangXian, Fluff, WWX Goes to Gusu, Possessive WWX, WWX happily atticwifing away, Sunshot Campaign, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ)

~*~

12. Itmf for qiongqi path divergence 🖤

The Fire Lapping Up the Creek by notevenyou (E, 66k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Blood, Respiratory Illness, Major Illness, Fever, Grief/Mourning, Burial Mounds, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hunger and food scarcity, Surgery, Fix-It of Sorts)

when you're doing all the leaving (then it's never your love lost) by tardigradeschool (T, 23k, wangxian, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Sharing a Bed, Sharing Clothes, Fix-It, the inherent eroticism of under robes, Golden Core Transfer, LWJ finds out about wwx's missing core and says i have plenty to go around)

the cycle of regret by KouriArashi (T, 14k, WangXian, Groundhog Day, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending)

in this place where we don’t have a prayer by Cerusee, Mikkeneko (T, 42k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, WWX dies at Qiongqi path, Demonic Cultivation)

Home and the Heartland by Witch_Nova221 (T, 210k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, Slow Romance, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Self-Discovery, Golden Core Reveal)

isn't there a Qiongqi Path canon divergence comp?

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13. itmf fics with Lan Wangji laughing/smiling/giggling etc. The bts of The Untamed with Wang Yibo laughing his ass off are killing me and i need LWG just being happy and laughing now

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14. An ITMF ask: I am looking for fic where WangXian's marriage is being arranged but one or both of them simply don't know about it until late in the game -not just "everyone knows but them" but literally they are being measured for wedding outfits and are clueless. Pining a plus! HEA pls! <3 @kimboo-york

Searching for a Heart by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 21k, WangXian, Modern AU, married at first sight au, this is basically modern arranged marriage, Getting Together, Reality TV AU)

Lead Me On Through by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 54k, wangxian, Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, Practice Kissing, practice other things, horny boys in love, questionable logic, Questionable Choices, they're dumb but cute, but dumb, but really cute, slight knives, Happy Ending)

~*~

15. itmf modern au inventor wwx, similar to kizukatana's Truth Will Out? thank you for all that u do 💗

💖 One Can Keep A Secret (If He Does Not Know It’s There)by H_Belle (T, 5k, wangxian, NHS & WWX, modern w/ cultivation, inventor WWX, secret identity, identity reveal, YLLZ WWX, rogue cultivator WWX, pining LWJ, WWX pov)

There's An App For Everything by Sweetlittlevampire (G, 4k, wangxian, Modern Cultivation, Rivals to Lovers, Friends To Lovers, Competition, Demon fighting, Getting Together, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Night Hunts, Wangxian x Caves is the real ship here, Happy Ending, Humour)

~*~

16. hi hi! could you recomend any fics where Lan Yuan grows up in Lotus Pier? thank you <3 @nyxiblue

What Remains After the War by Swan_Song (T, 41k, JC & LSZ, JC & JL, JL & LSZ, JL & LJY & OYZZ & LSZ, JC & WWX, WIP, Canon Divergence, LSZ is a Jiang, Good Uncle JC, Cousins JL & LSZ, JC Needs a Hug, JC Needs Therapy, The juniors solve a mystery, Junior Ensemble Shenanigans, Good Uncle LQR, he tries his best, LSZ Needs a Hug)

~*~

17. ITMF any fics where other characters preferably Jin zixuan has an unrequited/one sided crush on Wei Ying. Could be any setting preferably Canon/Canon divergence or with some sort of cultivation and wangxian end game. Gimme all you have please @linossock

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[nataliawrites]

My Boyfriend’s Not in the Mafia // Charles Leclerc

I’ve been having issues with my posts disappearing from the tags so I’m going to give reposting this a try

It was funny at first. You didn’t really think anything of it the first time … or the second … or the third.

When you landed your dream job straight out of college and traded in the familiar streets of your hometown for the glitz and glam of Monaco, you didn’t know what to expect. But the reality ended up being more than you could have dreamed of.

You had a crooked cobblestone and poorly closed latte to thank for that. One wrong step saw you flung across the sidewalk. Fortunately, someone managed to catch you before your head became the street’s next victim. Unfortunately, his white linen shirt also caught the remnants of your coffee.

That’s how you met Charles Leclerc. Who needs a meet cute when you could have a “I’m mortified and can’t ever show my face in the second-smallest sovereign state in the world again” cute?

Of course you didn’t exactly know who he was at first but the gigantic billboard of his face next to the Prancing Horse that you passed on the way to your first date clued you in pretty quickly.

As you became more serious, you never intended to keep your relationship secret. But it was the off-season and that meant that Charles could mostly stay out of the spotlight while the two of you relished in your own little bubble. The honeymoon phase never felt sweeter.

But then your coworkers started asking questions. They saw the Ferrari (and the other Ferrari and the other Ferrari and the other Ferrari) that often dropped you off in the mornings and picked you up at night. They saw how you started to rush out for your lunch break instead of spending it in the office. They saw the new earrings and bracelets and necklaces and shoes and lots and lots of red accents.

“Who is he?”

You turn towards your coworker, Stephanie, as you go to refill your water bottle after lunch. “Who is who?”

She wiggles an eyebrow, “Your new man!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Your other coworker, Jacob, walks over from across the room. “Don’t be coy. We have eyes.”

Stephanie laughs, “And my eyes are telling me that you’ve found yourself a trust fund kid. No judgement here — get that bag!”

“One,” your raise a finger, “he’s not a trust fund kid. And two,” you raise another, “it’s not about money. I really like him.”

Stephanie squeals with as much zeal as she can manage in a corporate office, “I knew it! You have a man.”

Jacob chimes in, “So trust fund kid’s out … I’m betting on an oligarch.”

“Or a torrid affair with a politician.” Stephanie seems way too excited at the prospect.

You roll your eyes good-naturedly, “He does something much more dangerous.”

“He’s in the mafia?”

“Damn, you’ve got yourself a mobster.”

You don’t grace them with a reply, just laughing the teasing away.

You should have just straight up denied it. You knew that. But you were having too much fun and what harm could a little joke possibly have? You just didn’t expect the photos you posted on Instagram from when you joined Charles in Maranello and then explored northern Italy together to have your work friends quite so suspicious.

Stephanie and Jacob corner you as soon as you step out of the elevator on your first day back from vacation.

Stephanie starts, “So Italy …”

“Where the mafia is from. What a coincidence!” Jacob finishes.

“Wait,” Stephanie focuses on your neck, “that’s a new necklace.” She spots the patent red bottoms of your new more fashion than function stilettos, “and those are new shoes!”

“We were in Milan!” You explained. “You can’t not go shopping in Milan.”

“Yeah,” Jacob laughs, “you and your mafioso sugar daddy.”

To be fair, the phone call they overheard between you and Charles the next day didn’t help much.

“Did you manage to get the blood out?”

He sighed through the phone, “Yes, finally! Only took me two hours of scrubbing. Remind me not to scratch my leg on a cliff and not notice while it bleeds on my car’s leather the next time we go to the beach.”

Your back turned to them, you don’t even notice the wide eyed look that Stephanie and Jacob exchange.

When your birthday approached right before the season started up, you finally decided to introduce Charles to your friends. Your family, the Leclercs, and your friends would be joining you for dinner at your favorite local restaurant.

Charles was standing next to you, welcoming your guests and inviting them to sit down for dinner, when Stephanie and Jacob walked in.

You think they would’ve looked less shocked if Charles was actually in the mafia.

Jacob stutters, “You’re … you’re-”

“CHARLES LECLERC!” Stephanie managed to find her voice.

Charles extended a hand and chuckled, “Hope I don’t disappoint. Y/N told me you thought I was in the mafia. I’m not quite at that level.”

Your best friends from work turned the same color as Charles’ race suit.

[rondoel]

Quartz & Riebeck brainrot below! doodles + some snippets of my ponders about psychology & neurodivergence in hearthian society

(snippets but it's still very long! 😂)

Started with the thought I like that Quartz is of the same age as Riebeck, making them of the same hatch bath and therefore having grew up together :D

(hanging out with Riebeck who is very cautious is probably the only reason Quartz even reached the adulthood)

--

I think of hearthian society as potentially good place for neurodivergence because of its size and how they seem to function.

It makes sense for something like mentorships going on there where it comes to raising young - a hatchling picks an adult that resonates with them in some way and learns their craft. In small society it's very important to do what you're going to be good at. That would make a person that will be raising you the best fit for you.

I small society a common understanding would be that everyone is different. And again, it's crucial for those differences to be used in the best way. So no ostracizing, no assumption to "fit in" with the "norm". Endorsing those differences to progress.

Those things together create a fascinating environment for me to examine those traits in kind of a vacuum, where I can examine how person will function in society with just the traits they have - instead of mainly through lens of learned trauma responses, masking and social pressures.

--

I'm fascinated by the thought of these two naturally being thrown into the same box of "having a bit of difficulties with people" - while being just so NOT like each other (which later on becomes obvious, but early on they just hang out with each other because 'why not, we're both weird kids after all').

When it comes to social stuff Riebeck just doesn't understand how to relate and connect with others, and it's a big issue for them. While Quartz just doesn't want to participate because they don't feel this need at all.

So there's some common ground here - but they don't really understand each other. Which at some point they start to notice.

(Riebeck - the only person to ever make Quartz laugh. at their misfortune. but. still)

Where exactly the line lies in their difference came further in my research.

--

It started with me wanting to find a better name for Quartz' neurodivergence. I was thinking about psychopathy and sociopathy and how neither are recognized as a official diagnosis. Especially not medically/neurologically.

So to examine it in hearthian society I wanted to know where is that line between actual neurological condition vs trauma response + adaptation. I wanted to know If there are traits that are there from the start.

Then I found about the Callous-unemotional traits (CU).

This name allowed me to find to find actual scientific research instead of some biased bullshit people have about psychopathy - and it was so good. The interesting thing about it is that it actually shows in infants.

In similar way to autistic traits.

So again, I started to research the links.

I wanted to know hypothetically - what If those came from the same neurodivergence but psychopathy was a result of bad handling of those autistic traits? (far reaching, I know, but I wanted to know)

And then it turned out that NO. That those are very different! The difference most visible in different empathy responses.

I explored one of the differences in my last comic.

In which before Quartz leaves the planet for the first time - they want to actually confirm their suspicions.

A thought provoking moment for Riebeck, after which (and just the way Quartz cuts themself off) they start to wonder whether just spending a lot of time with someone is enough to make you friends.

Even more jarring of a thought - to spend most of your life with someone and for it to not mean anything to them at all.

All those things combined, current Riebeck is mostly unnerved by Quartz.

[localplaguenurse]

Now I come into your ask with my usual deranged horniness//HIT

You've done the wifey seeing their past self bc ley line anomalies but consider.... wifey meeting past Morax

Do I want wifey to be sandwiched by Morax and Zhongli and this is my excuse? .....Maybe

wasxdfcghvhjbj but fr imagine past Morax being like, so this is life after winning the archon war (or even retiring from archonhood) hmmm and being so smitten with wifey like damn future me scored I want them <3

(Wifey can barely handle ONE Morax let alone two)

This has not been beta read. Also read prev leylines fic for context because I'm treating this as a part two.

Few mortals travel to Guili Plains these days. It's been a few decades since blood was last shed here, as it's been a few decades since the end of Liyue's Archon War. By now, new plant life has already begun to prosper, though the land still bares noticeable scars.

You're fortunate enough that your body is still youthful, if only because the body of a twenty-one year old can walk off a rough trip better than a fifty-three year old's. The grass is lush enough that any old cuts in the ground are obscured, making for some pretty frequent tripping hazards. You're glad you wore your painting attire, as it would kill you to get grass and mud stains in your nicer clothes.

You've talked with Morax a handful of times about Guili Plains, notably if he was comfortable with you or your children exploring it as you know this place holds a lot of his memories, good and bad. He has told you he is okay with you exploring, so long as you're careful and let him know when you'll be back. You've yet to have any issue with his conditions, save for maybe being careful, but it's not your fault that there are so many hidden cracks and gashes that you always stumble at least once when you visit.

Picking your various pencils and brushes up out of the grass, you look up and pause.

Of course you recognize the figure ahead of you, resting next to a large boulder. What shocks you, though, is the state he's in. The white of Morax's cloak is stained red, as is the tip of the polearm propped up next to him. You freeze up, a hand covering your mouth, before you quickly make your way over to him. What is he doing here. Why is there blood? How much of it is his? What happened?

"Morax?!"

His head snaps in your direction, and something about the harshness in his face stops you in your tracks. He's never given you this look, not once. You've seen him upset and angry but not like this. He stands up, and when he steps forward, he towers above you.

He tilts his head, and though he seems irritated over your intrusion, he also seems... confused?

You snap out of it and step forward, grabbing one of his arms. "What happened? Are you okay?"

He pulls his hand back immediately, taking a step back. He stares at you, almost bewildered, before a smirk cracks across his face.

"Aren't you a bold little mortal..."

The growl in his tone sends a shiver up your spine. You open your mouth to say something, but then you absorb his words.

Bold little mortal.

You two have been married for going on thirty years now, and have had a brood of five children now. He doesn't refer to you as a "mortal," but by a slew of more endearing pet names. Not only that, but he's never taken an almost patronizing tone with you like this.

It clicks.

This isn't your Morax.

Well, not yet. You have a flashback to the incident at the monastery, where you had comforted your former self. To have Morax first and foremost not recognize you, but also refer to you as a little mortal is indication enough of this. Not only that, you can see he has fewer scars on is body, and the ones he does have seem fresher. Whatever happened at the monastery is happening again.

Morax leans down, seemingly amused by your bewilderment. "Hm? Oh, has the cat caught your tongue, or however you mortals use that phrase? You were so confident in approaching me, so what's changed?"

You clear your throat, and you consider how you want to phrase this explanation. I mean, this is just a memory of Morax, seemingly. You don't have to interact with him, but you also want to.

You figure it's better to get this out of the way.

"I'm your wife."

"..."

Morax tilts his head back and quite literally roars with laughter. You feel it thundering in your chest as he hollers. He wipes a tear from his eye, still chuckling, before he grins down at you.

"You are quite possibly the most confident or most foolish mortal I've yet to meet," he says, "and I truly must thank you. I haven't heard a joke like that in years."

You sigh, turn around, and move your hair away from your neck to expose the mark he left there. "I don't quite know how to explain this," you tell him, "or why you are here, but you're a younger version of my husband, and I am your future wife." You let your hair back down and turn to him. "W-We got married near the end of the Archon War, and you claimed me maybe a year later."

Morax looks you over, analyzing your attire, your figure. He circles you, like a wolf sizing up its prey, taking in every detail of your appearance.

"While I admit that you are a rather pretty little thing," he purrs, "I hope you take no offence when I ask why I would marry a mortal woman."

"There's a small village, it's maybe a week's travel north from Mt. Tianheng," you explain, "it has an even smaller monastery. It has an orchard full of ginkgo trees and a shrine dedicated to you. There's a seal put in place to keep the village safe from demons and the Archon War."

Morax pauses.

You continue. "The shrine was broken, and since I was shrine caretaker, the blame was put on me. My abbess..." You look down at your feet. "My abbess gave me to you as payment to fix the seal... You... You would later on kill her for mistreating me all my life."

"... How?"

"You turned her to stone," you say, "and then shattered her body like pottery."

"Hm... I admit, that does seem like something I would have done," he says, "and your knowledge on the shrine lends credence to your story. Still, I have difficulty believing you could be my little wife."

"Why is that?"

He chuckles. "You're very small compared to me. Most mortals have difficulty handling my... form, so I highly doubt you would fare well..."

You blush, but find yourself chuckling with him. You cross your arms. "Considering I've given you five children, I think I handle you very well."

It's Morax's turn to be surprised. "Five...?"

"The last pregnancy was twins," you tell him. "We have two sons, three daughters. They called you baba, and some of them still do. Our oldest, Yānjiáng, calls you father nowadays."

"You gave me... five children?"

"I can show you the stretchmarks."

Morax's face is void of emotion as he considers your words. He stares at your face, looking for any sign of dishonesty or perhaps delusion. Surely, you must be delusional, approaching the Warrior God like this, with no fear and claiming to be his future wife and mother to his five children. He doesn't find any, which is even more bewildering.

After a moment, he smiles. There's still something slightly mocking to it, as though he thinks you're lying, but there's a softness to his expression as he regards you.

"You weave an interesting and truly unbelievable story, little mortal," he states, lifting you chin with clawed fingers, "though I must admit, I'm intrigued. I suppose I will have to find you in the future to see if your story holds any merit."

Morax leans down to kiss your forehead. When his lips disappear, so does he, along with his bloodied polearm. You touch your forehead, and still feel his lips lingering on the skin.

The encounter leaves you with artist's block, simply unable to focus on recreating the scenery. You gather your thoughts and things, and begin to head home. You weigh in your head if you want to tell your Morax about the encounter, if he'll believe you at all. You know he trusts you, but that's still a strange claim to make.

... You're definitely going to ask him to do the growl voice more, though.

[candaru]

just gonna ramble about some Ultrakill/Portal crossover thoughts don't mind me

(considering The End of All Known Land canon for these thoughts, i.e. a world where Gabriel and V1 are the only ones to get out of Hell)

Chell hates robots with all her soul and would try to fucking annihilate V1 if she thought they posed even a sliver of a threat but V1 would be so fucking excited at the prospect of another human. like obviously if they were still in a situation where they needed blood, they'd kill her without a second thought, but now? they're just FASCINATED by the question of "how did a human SURVIVE" and they want to know everything

V1 inner monologue: oh boy a new sparring partner!!! wow they have a cool new kind of gun I've never seen before!! that would've been soooo helpful back in hell. I wonder if that's how they escaped? and they're quiet just like me! I wonder if their organic voicebox is broken? or do they just not have one? can humans not have one?

GLaDOS would fucking despise Gabriel because he's sooooo full of himself. She doesn't even need to hear him say anything robot-racist, She's already decided She hates him and wants him dead. an "angel?" yeah, right. sounds just like another human ripe for the picking. let's see how high-and-mighty you are when you're in my TESTING DOMAIN! DO MY PUZZLES, BOY!!!

Gabriel is like wow this robot is stuck up and has some serious issues but also I am uncomfortable with how much of myself I see reflected in her. hmmmm. yeah I'll try your puzzle, tell me more about your deep-seated hatred of organics and particularly this one that keeps ruining the facility you run and is the only one to ever beat you in a fight. mhm. yeah so quick question have you ever thought about trying to fuck—

(EXPLOSION AND GUNFIRE)

meanwhile if Chell ever met Gabriel on the surface it'd make for such a good tense encounter. bc she is hiding behind a tree in full fight-or-flight mode wondering "how did another human SURVIVE" and also second question "how did they get such sickass wings and where can I get a pair?"

and then Gabriel noticing her would ALSO send him into fight-or-flight mode but only for a moment because of the pure shock of, again, "HOW DID A HUMAN SURVIVE" before curiosity completely overtakes him and he tries to talk to her. trying to get her to talk and not attack or run is like trying to coax a wild injured animal out of a hiding spot. but he eventually manages to earn the barest, most minimal amount of trust by setting down all his weapons and leaving offerings of food in front of her.

...this gets harder when she sees Gabriel and V1 together and registers that they're allies. she's unsure if they're plotting against her or if V1 is manipulating Gabriel. eventually she leans towards the latter and thinks her fears are confirmed when she witnesses them drawing Gabriel's blood while he's sleeping.

she tries to communicate this to him by drawing crude pictures on the ground and is VERY FRUSTRATED when he's like "omg can you not talk? that's ok!! V1 also can't talk but we make it work, they're really incredibly kind and patient and—"

Chell, internally: I AM GOING TO KILL THAT FUCKING ROBOT AND SAVE YOU

I think it would be funny for V1 to try and go urban exploring in Aperture. GLaDOS is initially all excited because a new testing robot literally fell right into Her clutches but then V1 proceeds to be the most stubborn, impudent, tenacious piece of shit and they remind her WAY TOO MUCH OF CHELL so now She's trying to kill them but they have ACTUAL FUCKING GUNS and Aperture is being destroyed in the wake of their battle

meanwhile V1 has decided they don't like this robot but also She makes fun tests. so they do puzzles until they get bored and then they blast holes through the wall and try to kill Her

something something Ultrakill is just Portal for NBs (everyone knows Portal is for women) and I'm so fascinated by the similar dynamics of the toxic yuri/toxic yaoi robot-and-human pairs. and I think they would mostly hate each other and I love that for them.

(also something something GLaDOS is too far gone, too corrupted in Her immortality, and too deep in denial for any possible healthy ending with Chell—it's just not possible. so seeing Gabriel and V1 in a healthy and loving relationship would make Her SO FUCKING MAD for reasons She can't articulate)

[sparrowofthedawnsworld]

Bad Girlfriend - Josh Kiszka

A/N: HERE IT IS! The long awaited brat!tamer Josh fic. Not gonna lie, once I started writing this… I realized that Josh is most definitely a soft dom, if anything. I struggled with this truthfully. I wrote, deleted and wrote again so many times. I hope you all love it, though! I love and adore all of you so much. Thank you for your endless support <3 Lots more to come!

WARNINGS: 18+ minors DNI! light arguing, lots of language, brattiness, brat tamer!Josh, light sir!kink, slapping, hair pulling, choking, orgasm denial/edging/orgasm control, degrading, a little praise, bondage, oral (F receiving), fingering, unprotected sex.

NEW Masterlist

••••

Everyone knew that behind closed doors, Josh was pretty easygoing. He constantly went with the flow of things… always playing with the hand he was dealt.

In most ways, you were like that, too.

Key words, ‘most ways.’

You and Josh were insanely flexible in the bedroom. Both of you loved to be submissive and dominant, depending on one another’s mood. You had explored many different kinks and such, most of which, you both loved.

Lately, however, you had admittedly spoiled Josh into being more so the submissive one. You had absolutely no issues with at first - in fact, you fucking loved it.

Until you started to miss his dominant side…

It aggravated you to no end that Josh wasn’t picking up your sly, playful little hints that you wanted him to take charge more. Your little moments of brattiness didn’t even seem to phase him.

You were completely lost on what to do.

Obviously, the best thing to do would be to just outright tell him what you wanted.

Where would be the fun in that, though?

There were little ideas floating around in the deepest crevices of your mind. Ideas that you scolded yourself for even pondering on for too long. Insisting to yourself that it would be ‘going too far.’

But what was really “too far,” for Josh? You’d never really seen him get mad… so, you didn’t really know.

Not really knowing, only fueled your curiosity and mild desperation to find out. Something about pushing his buttons just enough, until he finally cracks and puts you back in your rightful place, made your stomach turn with butterflies.

Sweet, devious, little butterflies.

<>

“Baby?” Josh called from what you assumed was your bedroom.

You got up from the couch, making your way towards the sound of his voice. Just as you thought, he was tucked away in the closet, searching for something to wear to the studio.

“Yeah, babe? You called for me?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed, smiling softly. “You wanna come with me to the studio today? It shouldn’t be a long session.”

You mulled it over for a moment, considering that the ‘it shouldn’t be a long session’ statement, was probably not true. Your idea and his idea of long, were entirely different. But in light of wanting to spend the extra time with your man, you agreed.

“Okay,” You returned his little smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Should I drive myself…?”

He scoffed at your playful insult to his previous words. “I swear we won’t be there long, mama.” Josh promised, pulling his shirt over his head. “Just finishing one song. Remember that cover we decided to add? Of ‘The Great Gig In The Sky’?”

Retreating to your own dresser in search of a different shirt to throw on, You mumbled a soft “mhm,” remembering the song they had decided to add last minute.

Once you were ready, you both jumped in Josh’s truck and tore off for the studio - late, as usual for him.

“For fucks sake,” Josh muttered, glancing at the clock on the radio. “Jake is gonna fucking bitch at me.”

You gave him an apologetic look, unsure of what to say to actually sooth him. He was right, Jake was definitely going to bitch at him for being so late.

Throughout the remainder of the car ride, you tried not to let your anxiety get to you, thanks to Josh’s excessive speeding.

It was honestly a little bit hot; the way he gripped his steering wheel, the littlest bit of sweat forming over his nose. He was usually always running late, however today he seemed more antsy than ever to get to the studio.

Looking him over, trying to only subtly look over at him every so often… your mind started throwing filthy scenarios at you, rapid fire. Within a minute, you were getting hotter and needier than ever.

‘This is it. This is my chance to piss him off.’ There was that little voice again, sounding so like you, but nothing like you all at once.

It was a terrible idea to piss him off in his work place, but the situation couldn’t have played out any better. Josh was already frazzled. Jake was sure to add to it and who knew, maybe you’d be presented with a moment to throw your bratty two-sense in when it wasn’t asked for.

When you finally arrived, Josh practically slammed into the side of the building as he whipped the Jeep into an open parking spot.

“Jesus Christ, Josh!” You practically shouted, scolding him for his pretty reckless driving.

“Just come on, baby!” He was already out of the car and slamming the door.

You scrambled out, turning around as you closed the passenger door to see he was already sprinting through the front doors.

His name rolled off your tongue in a tired huff.

“Geez, Joshua…”

After having to sprint to catch up with him -barely, might you add- The two of you stumbled over each other through the door of the guys’ recording room.

“Josh, you’re 45 fucking minutes late.” Jake huffed, already showing a sour mood. His eyes followed his twin with a not so subtle glare.

“You’ve only been here 10 minutes, Jake. Shut up.” Sam piped up. Kiszka number three with a foul mood.

“Geez, can you let a man get through the fucking door before you-“

“Alright! Alright.” Danny’s firm voice cut in between all three of them, effectively shutting them up. “Let’s just get this song done and then we can all have the rest of the day to do… whatever.” As he finished, he looked up from his drum kit and flashed you his warm smile. “Also, hi Y/N.”

You offered a warm smile right back. “Hi, Danny.”

Josh scoffed, glancing between Jake and Sam in annoyance. “At least one of you bastards has enough sense to greet the woman in the room, before you start hurling bitchy comments around.”

Jake and Sam both gave you sheepish looks and gentle apologies. Of course, they already knew they’d be forgiven. You saw them all the time and didn’t care for the formalities that Josh was insisting upon. You just chalked that up to his snappy and anxious mood.

They didn’t waste anymore time jumping into the song and It couldn’t have been more than a minute in, before Jake was halting the whole song.

“Okay- stop, stop, stop!” Jake shouted. Everyone came to a grinding and agonizing, halt.

Sam was the first to look to Jake in annoyance from behind the keys. “Jake, what-“

“Something is off. It’s flat as fuck.” Jake cut his brother off, explaining why he stopped them. “Just… make sure your chords and notes are right while I check my tuning. Please.”

“My piano is always tuned, Jacob.” Sam commented smartly, splaying his hands out over a number of keys obnoxiously. “And I know my chords and shit are right, thank you very much.”

The cringe that took over Josh and Danny’s faces had you biting back a laugh. Jake paused his own movements, looking up at his little brother with an incredulous look.

“Can you… i don’t know…” Jake shrugged cooly. “Fix your fucking mouth!?”

Your eyes flicked between the two of them rapidly as you tried to bite back the stream of giggles that was still threatening to bubble out of you. Tensions were high, sure, but that didn’t make their squabbles any less entertaining - especially since you weren’t part of it.

“For the love of god, just fix your shit and let’s keep going.” Josh spoke up through gritted teeth, fixing both his brothers with a very ill tempered glare.

Sam and Jake both reluctantly touched up the tuning of instruments and checked over chords.

Once they were ready, they picked back up at the very beginning of the song.

Surprisingly, they made it a lot farther, not coming to another stop until Josh’s voice cracked on a high note and Sam waved his hand in the air to stop everyone. Again.

Danny just sighed, but Jake’s face turned red with frustration - as did Josh’s.

“Josh, come on, bro-“

“I’m fucking trying, Sam! We’ve recorded every single day this week! My voice is tired as shit and this song is very vocally demanding!” Josh defended his end. “In case you didn’t know that.”

This is it. Do it.

That little voice in your head made itself very known for the second time, egging you on.

You couldn’t take it anymore, so you pushed past the nerves and let your mouth take off with the brattiest thing your brain could muster. “You say that like you don’t sing every night on tour.”

Danny’s jaw was the first to drop, followed by Sam’s snicker that had Josh’s jaw visibly locking up in anger.

Josh’s eyes practically burned through you, melting you with their silent warning to shut up.

“She… she has a point, Joshua.” Sam finally cleared his throat to say.

“We don’t even perform for 7 nights in a row!” Josh raised, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Be fucking serious, Samuel.”

“Okay, enough! Can we just start over?” It was Jake’s turn to plead.

Sam started it off on the keys again, and you admired how amazing he was at it. You didn’t get to sit and listen to them without the harsh sounds of screams surrounding you, so this was a breath of fresh air.

They breezed through the song flawlessly, the energy in the room lightening up just a bit.

That was, until Josh had very obviously forgotten one of the high notes. He stumbled around, trying to find his pitch again and instead groaned straight into his microphone.

“Are you fucking kidding me.” Josh threw his head back in pure annoyance, hands splaying out over his face.

Every part of his body that you could see, looked tense and shiny with sweat.

“Josh, you said you went over this song at home….” Jake sighed, rubbing his hand over his own face.

“I did!” Josh snapped, leaving out how little he’d actually gone over it.

You took that as your chance to rat him out a little, against your better judgement.

“I don’t think going through it once in the shower is really ‘going over it’, baby.”

“Oh, shit-” Danny covered his mouth with his drumsticks, fighting to hold it together.

Danny, ever the observant one, shot you a cheeky look. He knew what you were doing. Based on Sam’s pink cheeks, he’d obviously caught on, too. Either that, or the tensions rapidly rising back up in the room were making him nervous.

“I swear to god…” Josh gave you a verbal warning instead of just a look, letting you know he was reaching his limit with your shit - exactly what you wanted.

Thoughtlessly, another witty, but poorly timed remark flew out of you.

“Do you want me to pull up the lyrics for you, Josh?”

Jake, Danny and Sam all busted out into untamable laughter. Between the heaviness in the room, Josh’s stunned face and the comment itself -considering there were not really “lyrics” to speak of in the song they were desperately trying to record- none of them stood a chance in holding it in any longer.

You and Josh stared each other down, the sounds of his brothers’ laughter fading out into background noise. The smirk on your face was full of pride and satisfaction, your eyes twinkling with the mischief that you were hoping he would finally catch on to.

His eyes narrowed until they were practically closed, looking threatening and darker than you’d ever seen. His whole expression seemed just out of character enough, that it was just the slightest bit unsettling.

Sam’s voice snapped both of you out of your lust and anger driven trances.

“Josh?!”

“What?” Josh whipped his head away from you and towards his younger brother.

“Okay, cool your damn jets…” Sam threw his hands up and waited for Josh’s face to soften - barely. “One more go? If we get it, great. If not, we go home.” He glanced around, waiting for the nods of approval from each of them. “Clearly none of us have good spirits today.”

“Alright, yeah.” Josh switched his microphone back on and sucked in a shaky deep breath. “One more time.”

Sam took the song up on the keys for the last time, the rest of the boys falling in perfectly.

Every so often throughout the song, one of them would look around nervously. sitting right on the edge of their seat, like something was bound to go wrong at any second.

But, they made it through the song flawlessly and you weren’t sure about them, but you chalked it up to ‘third times the charm.’ And maybe a little bit of anger-driven determination.

Josh’s frustration might have also played a part in the strong vocals… but who was to say for sure.

The song came to an end and the room was electric, full of new energy and life. Almost as though no smart comments had ever been made, or sour moods were ever felt between the five of you.

“Fucking FINALLY!” Sam stood up from his bench, clapping his hands together in uncontrollable excitement.

And Jake wasn’t far behind his little brother, sharing the same enthusiasm. “That’s what the hell I needed from you, Josh. That was it!”

“I think that was the one.”

Danny sat his drum sticks down and released the breath that one might have sworn he’d held the entire song. “It was too perfect to even dare try one more time.”

“Josh?” Jake looked to his twin, awaiting a final comment of approval.

“Well, I don’t know…” Josh shrugged, sarcasm laced in his tone. “What does my little critic have to say first?” He turned to you with a fiery glare.

‘Well… his mood was sure not changing,’ you thought to yourself.

“Oh, that time was perfect.” The smile on your face hopefully only came across as smug to Josh. “I think you guys should use that recording, for sure.”

Josh snickered at how you went from sly comments, to being sickeningly sweet within the time it took them to run the last recording.

“Great! So we’re good here, yeah?” Josh rushed the question out, picking up his things from the floor beside him before any of them had even answered.

“Yeah, I think we’re-“

“Perfect! Baby, let’s go.” Josh breezed through the room, cutting Danny off as he exited.

You glanced around to the boys, huffing a laugh at their half stunned, half amused faces.

“Yeah… Good luck with him.” Sam gestured towards the door Josh just disappeared through.

“Don’t wish her luck, she pissed him off on purpose!” Jake cut in with a snicker, subtly taking his twin’s side. “What possessed you to piss him off on purpose, I don’t want to know. Regardless, you’re crazy.” He turned his attention directly towards you, smiling knowingly as he joked around.

“BABE!”

Your head snapped towards the door the second Josh’s voice boomed down the hallway.

“Best not keep your man waiting.” Danny smirked, nodding his head in the direction of the door.

“Yeah, yeah.” You rolled your eyes at them. “See you guys later, I love you, ya fools.”

Their collective goodbyes and ‘I love yous’ were the last things you heard as you closed the door to the recording room.

By the time you made it back to Josh’s truck, he was already in there, buckled in and ready to speed back home.

You couldn’t help it… the smirk that started tugging at one corner of your mouth. Josh was staring daggers at you through the window of his truck, only making you feel even more accomplished.

Opening the door, it was deathly silent inside; very unlike either of you. There was no talking, no music, just the sound of the truck itself running.

You got in and buckled up, jumping in your seat a little when Josh roughly put his truck in reverse.

“Would you mind telling me what the fuck that was about back there?” Josh finally asked, speeding out of the parking lot. He hissed the words out like some angered snake.

His eyes never left the road, his jaw clenched so tightly you could see his muscles pulsating.

You decided to unwisely play innocent. “What do you mean? What was what?”

“I swear to god…” Josh slammed his palm against the steering wheel. “You have the next 10 fucking seconds to fess up, or so help me, I’ll force it out of you.”

An overly excited giggle bubbled out of you before you could even stop it and you quickly tried to cover it by clearing your throat.

Josh looked over at you with the most floored and annoyed expression you’d ever seen. “You’re seriously gonna laugh right now?!”

“Fuck! Maybe that’s what I want you to do, Joshua!”

To Josh’s ears, the desperation in your voice sounded much more like you’d developed your own little attitude.

“Do what?!” Josh practically yelled, pleading for you to give him some sort of hint, not even realizing you’d given him -what you thought- was more than enough. “What do you want me to do so fucking badly, mama??”

“Oh, I don’t know… maybe-“ You gestured around dramatically on your momentary pause for emphasis. “Put me in my goddamn place?!”

Josh froze, still as a statue in his seat. A dumbfounded expression flashed over his features so quickly, anyone other than his twin or you would have completely missed it.

Little did you know, he was putting the rest of the pieces together. His mind flashed with all the times you’d thrown him seemingly random and uncalled for attitude, or sly comments that he had always just brushed off. Weeks worth of memories piled up in his head within seconds.

Josh’s silence had started to worry you and you were silently pleading for him to say something - Which you were immediately regretful of wishing, when his eerily calm and collected voice cut through your ears.

“You’re shitting me… Right?” Josh looked over at you, and you wondered when exactly his eyes had darkened to the almost black color that they were. “i’d just like to know…” he began in genuine curiosity. “Where in your pretty little brain did you come to the conclusion that all that was a good idea? Instead of just straight up telling me that this was what you wanted?”

You were stumbling around in your mind, trying to come up with a better answer than just ‘I don’t know’ or, ‘I was scared.’ You didn’t find one.

“I mean… I don’t… I don’t know.”

“I’m just trying to understand, is all.” shrugging cooly as he pulled into your driveway, Josh put the truck in park just as aggressively as he’d put it in reverse just a few minutes before. “Because now, I have to punish you for weeks worth of shitty behavior… and I don’t think you thought that far ahead, did you, mama?”

A shiver ran up your spine, visibly shaking your whole body. “I didn’t- I didn’t think I’d get this far… no.” You admitted shakily.

Josh let out a low, barely audible hum.

“Go inside and upstairs. I want you completely naked and sitting on the edge of our bed, hands in your lap.” Josh commanded, looking over at you with a stone cold expression. “I’ll be there when I’m good and ready. I need to figure out how the fuck i’m gonna turn my little brat, back into my good girl.”

Your hand scrambled for the door handle with an embarrassing level of urgency and excitement. You all but slammed the door of Josh’s truck, sprinting to the front door and inside, as if some sort of demon was chasing you after shutting off a light.

Between the heat cursing through your body and Josh’s orders, once you made it upstairs, you were ripping your clothes off piece by piece. Even once you were completely naked, you were still blazing with need; heat pouring off your body like a wood stove on the coldest Winter night.

You sat down, placing your shaky hands in your lap and to your surprise, you heard the door open and shut just a few moments later.

Josh wasn’t going to come and tend to you in any way just yet, though. You sat there rather impatiently, listening to him shuffle around downstairs, doing God only knew what.

After a few long and agonizing minutes, you finally heard his footsteps growing louder as he made his way up the steps and down the hallway towards your bedroom.

When he appeared in the doorway, your breath hitched in your throat. He had obviously discarded his shirt somewhere downstairs, his belt was undone and hung loosely in the belt loops of his pants. The only light in the room was that of your bedside lamp and a small oil defuser, casting a beautiful, warm glow over Josh’s skin.

“Aren’t you just a sight.” Josh hummed in approval of the sight of you, bathed in the same warm glow.

“I’m surprised you actually did what I told you to, though.”

He sat the two bottles of water in his hands down on the dresser and laid his forearm across the top, leaning some of his weight into it.

“Now, before we dive into absolutely anything,” Josh started, his tone no longer dominant, but serious. “We’re gonna settle on the color system.”

“We have a safeword, Josh.” You pointed out softly.

“Yes, mama, I realize that.” Josh offered a nod of understanding. “But I don’t want to ever, EVER have to use that. So, color system.”

“Okay.” You agreed and waited for him to continue.

“Green, yellow and red. Green means you’re good and want to keep going. Yellow means slow down, maybe stop for a moment to check in, too, if it’s called for.”

You just nodded along every so often as Josh spoke, listening to him intently.

“-And red. If you say ‘red’, everything stops and we’re not going to continue on.” Josh raised an eyebrow in question. “Does this work for you, mama?”

“Yes, that’s perfect, Josh.” Your answer was just above a whisper. “Do whatever you want to me. Please.”

Josh gracefully pushed away from the dresser he had still been leaning against. “Good.”

Your eyes followed Josh as he made his way closer to you, until he was towering above you. He reached up and firmly took your chin between his thumb and index fingers.

“Look at me.” He used his grip to tilt your head back and waited for your eyes to lock with his.

“My sweet girl... Did your need to be fucked like a whore finally make you cave and become such a brat? Hmm?”

Your eyes fluttered closed, a soft whimper floating out of you. “Yes.”

“Pity.” Josh clicked his tongue, squinting his eyes at you. “I wanted to make this pretty pussy cry all over my face tonight, but now I don’t know if you deserve that.”

“You’ll cave.“ You stared up at him, giving him the same challenging look that he was giving you. “You always do.”

“You’re in for a rude awakening if you think that’s how tonight is gonna go.”

Josh growled, releasing you from his grip. “I don’t want to hear another fucking word from you for the rest of the night.”

Josh grabbed the buckle of his belt and yanked it out of the loops swiftly. “You ran your mouth more than enough at the studio earlier. Don’t speak unless I tell you to.”

Josh fiddled with the belt in his hands, taunting you with it as he leaned back over you. “Let me have your hands.”

You lifted your hands up and slipped them through the loops he had created. He took the belt and secured it around your wrists, tugging it to make sure it was tight enough for his liking, and your’s too.

He stepped back to admire you - naked and mostly helpless in front of him. It was his first time seeing you like that in a long time and he had missed it. A lot.

“Color?” Josh asked as he fought to break out of his own little trance, eyes growing even darker the longer he looked at you.

Your answer was confident, despite you shifting around in your spot under his intense stare. “Green.”

“Stand up, little dove.” Josh ordered lowly, tugging you up by the arm. His voice was far too sweet for the things he was planning in his head.

Once you were steady on your feet, Josh took your previous position on the bed and he started to guide you down across his lap.

“Tomorrow, when you come back to the studio with me…” Josh started in a low tone, smoothing his hand over the swell of your ass. “You’re gonna remember why you should keep that fucking mouth shut.”

Smack. The sound of it echoed through the room, the force of it sending you slipping off of Josh’s thighs just a little. He readjusted his arm over the middle of your back, holding you even tighter.

You choked on the gasp your lungs attempted to suck in. “Jesus fucking christ-“

Josh slapped his palm across your ass again. “And didn’t I say not to talk?”

“Fu- yes! Yes. You said to only talk when you- tell me I can.” You struggled to get the words out.

The mix of pleasure and pain was absolutely dizzying. You could feel the wetness pooling at your entrance, slick and warm every time Josh’s hand came down against your ass.

“So you heard what I said and still didn’t obey.” Josh tsked, bringing his hand down for the third time. “So damn hard headed.”

Josh’s hand soothed over your red, blazing skin for a moment, teasing around until he couldn’t help himself any longer. He slipped his fingers down to your entrance, groaning when he felt just how wet you were.

“Oh, little dove…” Josh sighed. “You’re so fucking wet. Do you just love this that much?” He was taunting you.

You nodded, lip still tucked between your teeth.

“Dirty little thing.” He caught you perfectly off guard with another blow to your opposite cheek, making you cry out loudly.

After two more, his fingers traveled back to your heat and teased around mindlessly, tormenting you.

You wanted to open your mouth and beg him, but he took your little whimpers as begging enough.

“Aw. You want my fingers, don’t you, mama?” There was that condescending tone again. “Answer me.”

“Yes sir.” You sounded and looked purely pathetic, trying to press yourself harder against his fingers.

A groan rumbled through Josh’s chest, clearly liking what you chose to call him. For a split second, he had to fight with himself to hold onto his composure and not start giving it all to you right then.

“That’s just too bad, isn’t it?” Josh circled the tip of his finger around you, but didn’t push it in even the slightest bit.

Your breathing quickened, much to Josh’s amusement. The light tracing of his finger was enough to make you scream out of pure impatience.

After a few more swirls of the tip of his finger and listening to you whine and whimper, he hauled you up off his lap as he stood, pushing you back on the bed before you even regained your footing.

“Put your hands up to the headboard.” Josh commanded, pointing to the intricately swirled metal.

Often times, you would voice your distaste for that god forsaken metal headboard. Josh was always the one insisting on keeping it, telling you over and over that he loved the way it sounded hitting against the wall when you two fucked.

Momentarily thankful you hadn’t given it up yet, you lifted your hands up to the headboard and your stomach twisted in anticipation and need. You couldn’t put your finger on a time when you had needed him quite so badly. The thought of him having his way with you, punishing you however he saw fit… it was almost heart stopping.

Josh finally joined you in the bed, straddling your hips with his legs on either side of you. The woodsy notes of his cologne hit your nose like a bone crushing punch, intoxicating you by the warmth of it - faint notes of vanilla making it smell the slightest bit sweet. His fingers hooked into the belt binding your wrists together and he undid the buckle, creating one last loop to secure it to the headboard.

With one hand supporting his wait next to your head, his other trailed slowly down the inner part of your wrist, all the way down arm, to your shoulder and then finally rested just shy of your breast.

“How’s this, hm?” Josh’s voice still held the dominant edge, but you knew he was checking in. “Use your words.”

“Do something, please.” Your hips bucked up subtly in search of any sort of friction against your pulsing clit. “I need something. Anything.”

“Anything?” Josh cocked an eyebrow, slowly shuffling back down towards the foot of the bed. He mumbled the word out one more time. “Anything.”

You watched him slip over to his dresser, yanking open the second drawer and pulling out two of his silk scarves that he sometimes would take to shows.

He let them dangle from his fingers as he made his way back to the foot of the bed, where he dropped them down and proceeded to smack at the inside of your ankle.

You knew exactly what he wanted and you exhaled loudly, sliding your foot right up next to the bedpost. He tied the scarf around you ankle and then to the post, repeating the same process with your other.

Your eyes closed as various emotions surged through you. Josh’s stare was steadily making you feel so seen, resulting in the slightest twinge of shyness to bubble up and mix in with the unbearable need and lust pumping through you.

Josh couldn’t look away, either. Stuck on how your body looked, glowing with the lightest layer of sweat. The way your chest rose and fell quickly - swearing to himself that he could see your heart pounding against your ribcage from the outside. It was at that moment that he realized how hard he was seeing you like that.

“So, here’s what’s gonna happen...” Josh finally spoke after what felt like forever, making you jolt in your spot; his voice like electricity shooting through you. “I’m giving you permission to talk now, because You’re gonna tell me exactly what you want.”

You stared at him a little confused as he climbed back up between your legs. “What?”

“I want you to tell me whatever it is that you want. Right now.” Josh repeated, a little firmer and clearer. “And make it sound pretty.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a punishment?” You scoffed, watching him as he dipped down and placed kisses along the inner part of your thigh.

He looked up at you with a wicked smile from between your legs. “Oh, but it is.” The smile was gone just as quick as it appeared. “Now what did I tell you to do?”

“Tell you what I want.” The words fluttered out through a high pitched sigh. You tugged at your legs against their restraints when Josh started getting closer to your aching core.

“Tell me.” Josh demanded, biting harshly at the conjunction of your inner thigh.

“I want your mouth on me, Josh.” You begged. “Please. I want you to make me cum and-“

Josh’s hand cracked against your outer thigh. “Who? Try again.”

“Sir.” You corrected yourself. “Need you to make me cum, sir. Please.”

Without wasting anymore time, Josh’s mouth connected with your heat, licking from your entrance up to your clit.

“Fuck yes.” Whining, you pushed your hips off the bed as much as your restraints would allow.

In the back of your mind, you were still confused as to how exactly it was a punishment… Josh was giving you exactly what you wanted.

“Such a sweet little slut.” Josh groaned against you, teasing his tongue over your clit with light, little flicks. “You better tell me when you’re close.”

“Yes, sir.” Your head started spinning thanks to the degrading names he was sprinkling in. “Fuck, holy shit. You’re so good. So, so good.”

Josh’s tongue circled your clit, sucking it into his mouth to drag you closer and closer, groaning at the way he could feel it throb in his mouth every so often.

As you grew louder, he added a finger in, curling it right into that spot that had you jerking your legs in attempts to close them around his head. The two scarves served as a silky and secure reminder that you weren’t going anywhere, any time soon.

“Poor thing already wants to close her legs,” Josh said lowly, huffing a deep and airy giggle. “Does it feel too good? Huh, little dove?”

His thumb had replaced his mouth in light of wanting to talk you straight to your first orgasm.

And it was working.

“Fuck yes, it feels so good.” You whined, arching and writhing lightly against the mattress. “Keep going, please, keep going.”

“Keep going? Why?” Josh tilted his head back, watching you with a cocky expression - identical to one you had seen him sport on stage. “Are you getting close already, mama?”

Your walls clenched around him and no sooner than Josh felt the squeeze around his fingers, he was slowing down his movements drastically.

At that moment, it hit you like a ton of bricks. “No.” You shook your head frantically. “No, no, no.”

“”No”? No, what?” Josh questioned, languidly pushing his fingers in, only to pull them all the way out.

“You said-“ A whine from the sudden loss of Josh’s fingers briefly cut off your words. “You said to tell you what I want!”

“Yes, I did say that, didn’t I?” Moving over your body, Josh nudged your chin with the back of his hand.

You opened your mouth and he pushed his soaked fingers in, practically melting over the way you immediately moaned around them.

The words you’d been dreading left his mouth through still smirking lips. “I never said I’d let you cum, though… Did I?”

He pulled his fingers out of your mouth. Through an irritated and whiny huff of air, you begrudgingly answered him. “No, you didn’t.”

“Such a good girl for kind of listening to me earlier. I’ll have to reward you for that… eventually.” Your normal, bubbly, Josh peaked out for less than a split second when he giggled at his own words.

“Eventually.” Your eyes rolled back, but not in pleasure - much to your body’s internal and external pleading for relief.

“I want you to ask me for what you want again.” Pressing kisses to your sternum and down your belly, he gradually worked his way back down your body - leaving a few hickeys as he went. “You’re gonna learn how to tell me properly what it is that you want, rather than trying to get me worked up enough to treat you like the fuckin’ brat you are.”

“I need you to make me cum around your fingers.” You told him, clenching around nothing at even just the thought of it. “I want you to… to make me look at you when I cum…”

Hardly even following your own words, you dropped eye contact with him and felt a rush of warmth spread over your cheeks. That’s why you needed him to make you. Eye contact with Josh was a struggle in just casual, softer moments… This was filthy and obscene. There was no way you could bring yourself to hold his fiery gaze on your own.

“That’s it, tell me.” A kiss was pressed just above your clit, and another, then Josh’s lips finally pressed against the swollen bundle of nerves. “Say it all again.”

Josh’s tongue started teasing over you again, taunting at little areas around your clit that he knew made you toe the line of insanity.

“Fuck, I can’t-“ Gasping, your hips tried to tear away from Josh’s teasing mouth. “-Not while you’re… you’re teasing me like that.”

“Stop.” Josh growled, slinking his arm over your lower belly to hold you still. “Take it and do what I told you.”

“Yes, sir.” The two little words climbed out of you through a small cry of desperation. “Will you make me cum, please? Please, I need it so badly.”

Josh glanced up at you through hooded eyes, swiping the tip of his tongue just underneath your clit, causing a squeal to erupt from you. He loved how the littlest actions proved much more intense, when you were bound in such a helpless position.

“Yeah? Right there?” Josh babied the same spot again, watching almost the same reaction unfold. “I bet this little spot would make you cum so fast and hard, wouldn’t it?”

You were dying to free your hands and tangle them in Josh’s hair, unsure if you wanted to pull him closer or push him far, far away.

“Yeah,” you whined, high pitched and out of breath. Your brain was rapidly turning into mush, losing track of any coherent thoughts.

A soft and low “aww,” floated out of Josh, just barely audible and clearly lacking any real sympathy towards you.

His fingers slipped back down to your entrance, joining in with the pleasurable torture of his tongue. The arm he’d draped over your belly slid down lower, holding you more firmly across your hips.

The smirk that took over his lips was sinister. Hidden between your legs, you couldn’t see it - but could feel it. More than likely the cocky product of how your legs had started to shake and tug at their bindings more steadily, while he stayed attentive to that spot just at the bottom of your clit.

“Fuck!” You cried out into the thick, sex filled air of your bedroom.

The coil in your stomach started to tighten rapidly, each flick of Josh’s tongue making your body jolt and shake.

“Josh-“ His name came out strangled and broken. “Josh, i’m gonna cum, please….don’t stop!”

His fingers curled up inside you and mercilessly pressed into that spot only his fingers were long enough to reach. The patterns of his tongue slowed, only to speed up again and drag you back to the edge again. He kept your there, just under the peak of your orgasm . Every so often, he let you dangle over the edge for a few long seconds and then let you fall back down again.

“You’re fucking e-evil, Joshua,” You hissed from the deepest parts of you, quickly followed by a string of desperate pleas. “Please, please, please. Josh, please.”

You almost sobbed at the loss of his fingers and mouth, huffing out another incoherent plea as he got up from the bed. He couldn’t stand it any longer.

Just as sweaty and somewhat disheveled as you, Josh undid the button of his pants and pushed them down his legs, taking his boxers with them. He looked painfully hard and red. The quick little glisten of precum coating his tip, didn’t go unnoticed to your lust-blown eyes.

“Fuck me.” It came out in a whisper, but Josh still heard it.

“What?” His eyebrows raised, but you weren’t sure if it was from your question or his hand lazily stroking over himself.

“Fuck me.” You repeated, louder. “I want you to fuck me. Right now.”

Josh smiled brightly, as if you had spoken the most beautiful words he’d ever heard in his entire life.

“Listen to you,” Josh practically groaned. “Telling me what you want like a good girl. Finally.”

“I’ve told you what I wanted for the last fucking hour!” You pointed out sharply, bound hands clasping together in frustration.

“Mhm, you have…” Josh’s hands tugged at one of the scarves around your ankle, undoing it. “But that time I didn’t have to tell you to do it. You just did it.”

“I hate you.” You definitely didn’t and he knew that good and well.

“Hey.” His finger was pointed directly at you, accompanied by a stern look. “Don’t get fucking bratty again.”

You were aching to feel him inside you, his mouth on yours, your hands on him. Anything. “Obviously there’s a little bit left that you need to fuck out of me, but you’re just taking your sweet time.”

A humorless laugh bubbled out of him as he pulled the knot out of the other scarf. “Do we need to start this whole process over again? You don’t sound like you’ve very learned much.”

“No, sir. We don’t.” You parted your legs wider than the bedposts had allowed for, taunting Josh with you dripping core.

Like some sort of feral animal, he pounced on top of you and you knew you were in for it, when his hand clasped roughly around your throat.

“Don’t even try to tempt your way into getting what you want from me.” Josh said, low and hushed into your ear.

“Give it to me and I won’t have to.”

Josh’s grip around your throat slid up to your jaw, using just a little bit of his weight to press you firmly into the pillow. He held you there all while his other hand lined himself up with your entrance. A strangled cry of pleasure tore its way up your throat the second he slammed into you, filling you all the way up with one sharp thrust.

“Is this what you wanted?” Josh delivered another sharp thrust into you. “My cock filling you up… fucking you like the fucking brat you are?”

All you could do was nod. Your eyes were rolled back into your head, mouth gaping in a river-like flow of cut off moans.

“Will you ever learn, mama?” Josh continued on through gritted teeth. His hand tangled up into your hair, pulling your head back slightly. Finally, his lips were ghosting over yours. “This beautiful mouth is gonna get you in many more worlds of trouble, I fear.”

Your lips met in a sloppy kiss, tongues and teeth clashing together in attempts to get closer than humanly possible somehow. Josh’s hands held onto each of your wrists for leverage as he relentlessly pounded into you, groaning into your when your legs hooked around his back.

Everything about him was intoxicating. His cologne was faded, but still faintly present - mixed in with his pheromones. His lips just barely tasted like alcohol; likely the remnants of a shot he’d taken while downstairs earlier.

His hands left your wrists, sliding down your body until one was rested against your side, the other stopping at your chest to play with one of your nipples.

Much to your dismay, he broke away from the frenzied kiss.

“Tell me how much you love being fucked like a sweet little slut, mama.” Josh demanded, somehow sounding sweet and dominant all at once. He was good at that.

“I love it,” you managed to squeak out, arching your body into Josh’s. “Ha- harder, please!”

“You want it harder, yeah?” Josh’s voice strained as he switched positions. His arms hooked around your thighs, pushing your legs back until you swore they touched your shoulders and picked up his pace to something likely to bruise you in a delicious way.

“Oh fuck, yes!” For a split second you forgot your hands were still bound, yanking them in attempts to claw at Josh’s shoulders. The clanking of metal on metal was your haunting reminder that you couldn’t. “Josh please, I need it-“

“Need what, mama?” His fingers, soft yet skilled, reached around to your swollen bud. He swirled his fingers around it in tight and quick circles. “Is this what you need?”

A moan erupted from your lungs, your back arching away from the bed. You forced an animalistic moan out of Josh as you squeezed tightly around him.

“No. Don’t cum until I say so.” Josh said, desperately trying to catch up with you.

That coil was burning inside you, though - threatening to snap at any given moment, completely out of your control.

“I can’t- I can’t hold it, Josh!” Your eyes burned, a stray tear or two threatening to spill over the corner. “PLEASE!”

He cooed at you, letting go of one of your legs to swipe the stray tears away. “You wanna cum that badly, mama?”

“Yes,” you sobbed, letting your head fall back as a few more tears fell.

“Come on, then.” Josh finally caved. “Give it to me, nice and sweet right on my cock, mama.”

His fingers pressed more firmly against your clit, sending you flying over the edge and into the raging waters of your orgasm.

He tumbled into his own peak just seconds after you, his curses and groans mixing with yours in a lustful harmony of sounds.

Muscles all over your body tensed and released rapidly, arms and legs trembling weakly. Your high sucked every last bit of energy you had left.

Eventually, you started to come down. Josh was barely holding himself up above you, but forced himself to stay up until you were back to some form of coherency.

“Are you still with me, baby?” Josh’s voice cut through your ears, accompanied by the comforting sound of his giggle.

A tired smile took over your lips as you draped out. “Kinda…”

Josh immediately worked at undoing the belt around your wrists, taking them in his hands once they were free to massage over them gently.

“How does a bath sound, baby? Or some water?” Josh asked sweetly.

He would always be your sweet, caring man. You knew that for sure.

“Water, please, baby.” You stretched out, face twisting from your sore muscles. “I wanna lay here for a bit.”

“Did a little number on you, yeah?” Josh snickered, grabbing the water off the top of the dresser.

“Hush.” You rolled your eyes at him and took the water, snatching it playfully.

He flashed the quickest little wink in your direction, slipping towards the bathroom. “I hope that’s what I just taught you how to do.”

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