April 2025

About the post of Mia's first relationships when she was young, why was Will more mad at her for kissing a boy and not so mad at her for kissing a girl?😮 Is there a particular motive?

Definitely. This phenomenon where a father reacts strongly to his daughter’s romantic involvement with a man is a well-documented psychological dynamic, often tied to unconscious notions of possession, rivalry, and control.

For a father like Will, whose relationship with his daughter is already marked by enmeshment, blurred boundaries, and an undercurrent of possessiveness, her interest in men can trigger an unconscious sense of loss. Unlike with a woman, whom he does not view as a direct rival, another man represents a tangible shift in his daughter’s affections. It is a perceived replacement, a symbolic transfer of emotional and physical closeness that he, on some level, resents.

A father’s jealousy toward his daughter’s relationships with men often stems from subconscious territoriality. While he may or may not consciously see his daughter as “his” in a romantic sense, he has always been the dominant male figure in her life. The introduction of another man disrupts that dynamic, introducing an external force that can challenge his influence. This is why fathers who exhibit these reactions often show more possessiveness toward daughters than sons (sons do not “replace” them; they are seen as extensions of the father himself).

Also, there is a cultural and psychological bias at play. Many fathers view their daughters’ heterosexual relationships through a lens of protection, often mixed with control. A male partner represents not only a sexualized presence but also a potential emotional and psychological threat. In contrast, a female partner is often perceived as non-threatening, almost neutral, because it does not disrupt the father’s role in the same way.

Specifically in Will and Mia’s case:

His daughter sees herself for him, her identity is built around him, and he unconsciously placed her in a conflicting triad of roles: maiden, mother, wife. His jealousy at seeing her kiss a man suggests that, on some level, he sees male partners as rivals, competitors for her attention, devotion, and even emotional caretaking. The fact that he does not react the same way when she kisses a woman is because he does not perceive female relationships as a comparable threat. In his subconscious, only another man can “take her” from him.

This reaction is not rational, nor is it consciously malevolent, but it is deeply ingrained. It is an emotional response tied to Will’s own possessiveness, unresolved emotional dependencies, and the psychological framework that has defined his and his daughter’s relationship. It is not about morality, sexuality, or even logic…it is about a primal, almost territorial sense of loss.

What if Mia when she was younger used to take care of Will when he was sick, or when he had a mental crisis? Since there's not a mother/wife figure in the house, I feel like Mia just happend to help Will with almost everything.

(what if she would help him sleep at night, when he has a nightmare, like giving him kisses on the forehead and sweet words?🥺)

Mia definitely dances around the roles.

Will lay sprawled on the couch, his body damp with fever. The house was dim, the only sound the occasional gust of wind against the windows. Mia sat beside him, watching him. She dipped a cloth into a bowl of cool water and pressed it gently to his forehead.

“You always let it get this bad before you tell anyone,” she murmured.

Will stirred, his voice hoarse. “Didn’t want to—” he coughed, wincing— “bother you.”

Mia rolled her eyes but softened almost immediately. “You never bother me. Almost never.” She teased.

She adjusted the cloth, letting her fingers rest against his temple for a moment before pulling the old quilt higher around his shoulders. Will let out a slow breath, his body unclenching just slightly.

“You should sleep,” she said.

His eyelids fluttered, heavy with exhaustion. “Stay?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Mia hesitated for only a second before curling up in the chair beside him, tucking one foot beneath her.

-

Will jerked awake, gasping for air. His heart pounded against his ribs as he stared into the darkness of his bedroom. The dream was already slipping away, but the feeling lingered—something thick and suffocating in his chest.

Mia sat up beside him, her eyes squinting from sleep. “Another bad dream?” she asked quietly.

Will didn’t answer. He pressed his hands over his face, trying to steady his breathing. Mia sighed and leaned down and pressed a kiss on the top of his hand.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re home. You’re safe.”

Will exhaled, his muscles still tense but not as rigid. Mia shifted, stretching out beside him.

After a while, his body eased. The house settled into silence, and they both drifted into sleep.

Will's frustration when he mention about the times people would stare at Mia-😭 Imagine Mia going like "yeah so, that's my dad." to her friends/classmates, and Will is actually a handsome man in his own, so now they'll understand why Mia is such a pretty girl😂

You can't tell me Mia won't tease her father about her classmate saying he's handsome 🏃🏻‍♀️🙏🏻

Mia leans against the counter, idly twirling a strand of hair around her finger as she watches Will take his first sip of coffee. His usual grumpiness clings to him, but there’s always a sharpness beneath it, something alert, watchful.

“So,” she starts, voice light, teasing. “I think I might start walking home from school.”

Will doesn’t look up from his coffee. “No, you won’t.”

She ignores him. “It’s just getting unbearable, you know? Every day, the girls won’t shut up about you.”

That gets a reaction. His fingers tighten around the mug, but his expression stays neutral. “Mia.”

“I mean, honestly, they have no shame.” She lets out a dramatic sigh, tilting her head at him. “Do you know what Charlotte told me today?“ She makes a forced voice, "‘I think your dad is so hot. Like, unfairly hot. I would literally commit a crime just so he could put me in handcuffs.’”

Will finally looks up, jaw tensing. “Jesus Christ.”

Mia grins. “I told you…No shame. And then Emma goes, ‘Do you think he’d let me call him Daddy?’”

Will’s face twitches—something dark, unreadable flickering across it before he scoffs, shaking his head. “That’s disgusting.”

Mia just shrugs. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I told them all you’re emotionally unavailable and impossible to live with.”

“I am emotionally unavailable and impossible to live with.”

“Yeah, but that probably made it worse, though. You know how girls are about the whole damaged and brooding thing.”

Will exhales sharply through his nose.

She leans in slightly. “And now they’re all begging to have a sleepover at our house. I think we might need to move away, change our names—”

“Enough,” he interrupts, but there’s something else in his voice now, something amused. He shakes his head, looking at her with that expression she knows too well—half exasperated, half entertained. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“I am enjoying it,” she admits. “Because it’s funny. And also because you’re not arguing about it.”

He raises an eyebrow. “About what?”

“That you’re hot.”

A slow, knowing smirk tugs at his lips. It’s brief, but she catches it. “Let them think I’m hot, so what?”

Mia gasps in mock offense. “Criminal—”

Will steps closer. His voice drops lower, quieter. “Maybe you should put me in handcuffs.”

The way he says it makes something curl in her stomach, warm and electric. Her breath hitches slightly, but she masks it with a roll of her eyes, forcing herself to scoff. “Shut the fuck up, get away.”

Will just smirks again, tilting his head as he studies her. “Don’t start games you’re too afraid to play, Mia.”

Mia huffs, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl and biting into it just so she has something to do. “Whatever. Just know if one of my friends breaks into our house one night, it’s your fault.”

“I’ll be sure to lock the doors.”

Mia narrows her eyes at him but doesn’t push further.

I headcanon Mia stopped bringing friends over because they'd all get crushes on Will lol

Mia stands at the door, her lips stretched into a tight, artificial smile as her friend waves goodbye. “Bye! Text me when you get home,” she chirps, voice dripping with fake sweetness.

The second the door clicks shut, her whole face drops. She exhales sharply, rolling her eyes as she turns around.

Will, still lounging in his chair, watches her with vague amusement.

She strides past him, arms crossing tight over her chest, face set like stone.

His eyes follow her. “Something wrong?”

“No,” she snaps, too quickly.

Will tilts his head, smirking. “Mia.”

She doesn’t stop, doesn’t turn.

“Mia.” His voice is lower this time, coaxing.

She lets out a sharp sigh, halting mid-step. Her fingers twitch at her sides, like she’s debating whether or not to say it. Then, finally, she whirls around, eyes narrowed.

“You know. It’s really weird when you flirt with my friends.”

Will blinks. Then, he scoffs, shaking his head. “I wasn’t flirting, are you insane?.”

Mia glares.

He leans back in his chair, sighing like this conversation is exhausting. “I was being polite, stop being crazy.”

She lets out a humorless laugh. “Polite? She was practically melting every time you so much as looked at her, and you knew it.” She narrows her eyes, voice dropping slightly. “You liked it.”

His brows lift, like the accusation is absurd. “That’s ridiculous. And weird.”

“Is it?” she challenges, stepping closer now. “You know when people are reacting to you. You love acting like you don’t, but you do.”

Will shakes his head, exhaling through his nose. “You’re overreacting.”

Mia crosses her arms tighter, fingers digging into her sides. “You think I don’t notice? The way you look at them, just enough to keep them hooked? The way you smirk when they get all shy and giggly? It’s disgusting.”

He laughs, low and quiet. “I think someone’s jealous.”

Mia’s glare sharpens. “I’m grossed out, not jealous.”

“Oh, of course not,” Will says, still smirking.

She clenches her jaw. “You know what? Forget it.” She turns to leave.

But before she can, Will grabs her wrist, stopping her. His grip is firm but not forceful. When she meets his eyes, they’ve lost their teasing edge. His voice is quieter now, measured. “Mia.”

She doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t soften either.

He watches her for a moment, then tugs her just slightly closer, enough that the tension shifts into something heavier. “I don’t care about your friends,” he says, voice smooth, deliberate. “You know that.”

Mia stays silent, staring at him.

He tilts his head. “You don’t have to throw a tantrum every time someone looks at me.”

She scoffs, ripping her arm from his grasp.

hii!! i’ve been seeing posts about Rotten Meat come up on my dash and i’m really excited to read the whole thing on ao3!! before i start, i was just wondering if Will is Mia’s dad in a literal biological way or a kinky way or a both way? sorry if this has already been answered or clarified!! hope you’re having a lovely day :D!!

Hello! Haha Will’s Mia’s biological father, he raised her by himself. The rest I think it’s better you answer for yourself by reading the fic hahaha 🤫.

Mia. Mine.

I was raised in the wreckage of a man. A man with too many thoughts and too little peace, a man who loved with all the desperation of a drowning thing. A man who would rather tear his own hands apart than ever let me slip through them.

Will Graham, my father. Will, a name that trembled on the edge of hesitation, that collapsed into itself with the weight of too many almosts. But to me, he was just Daddy. Daddy, who burned the toast but always scraped off the black parts before giving it to me. Dad, who looked at me sometimes like he had forgotten where I came from, like he wasn’t sure whether I had been given to him or taken from him.

There was no softness in my childhood that was not also sharpened at the edges. No safety that did not feel, in some way, like a trap waiting to spring. My father, the hunter, the hound, the man with too many ghosts pressing up against his ribs. He raised me with hands that shook and eyes that never stopped looking for danger. I grew up in the space between his heartbeat and his fear.

I was a quiet child, but not an obedient one. I loved him, but I tested him. I traced the line where his patience ended and stepped just beyond it, just to see what would happen. And always, always, he would pull me back. Sometimes with words. Sometimes with silence. Sometimes with a grip on my wrist that was just a little too tight, his breath uneven, his eyes gone dark.

I never asked what scared him more—the thought of losing me, or the thought of keeping me too close.

The last lines of the post about Mia being 13 and Will being drunk at night, so when Will is drunk he's less in control of his mind and actions? And if the actions tends to get too far, Mia won't say anything? 🍄

Milk Safety Bar

🥛

Will has DiD, dissociative identity disorder, he gets triggered by his own feelings of inadequacy and guilt and splits. Alcohol just makes it worse.

The way he manipulated everything made Mia completely unaware and unable to even distinguish between affection and abuse. He made her feel as if she wanted it, asked for it, tempted him, bribed him to do it. It’s a common tactic to revert the blame to the victim.

He’d always do it in a way that made it look like he was making a sacrifice, like he was saying “fine, you want me? here, have it”, “if I don’t do this you will leave me, won’t you?”, “you’re such a bad girl, look what you are forcing me to do”, “I love you so much that I’m tainting myself for you”.

She thought it was pleasant but it felt physically overwhelming. The pleasantness came from pleasing him, not from the act. And the body reacts, and so he would take that as a her asking, wanting, enjoying. But the body just reacts. She didn’t know how to be present, she just accepted it, told herself little stories in her head until she felt empty again. Until it was over. But she didn’t realize what was happening. It was just another way of showing love. It was what she made him do. Right? As she got older, more experienced, sharper, and bad, she learned to enjoy it. Take what little control she had available. Might as well.