#and wonder if my own kid thought like that too...

[noxcheshire]

Back at it again with my Danny is mom coded au’s, but this time it’s because of Clockwork that he suddenly has a whole ass teenage kid.

Clockwork had been bored or maybe he was playing a game against an opponent, or even lost a bet, whatever it was, he stepped in right as Jason was searching for his biological mother.

The DNA that would have registered itself as one Sheila Haywood, confirming Jason’s mother, glitched a terrible green across the screens of the batcomputer.

In those few moments of chaos Jason’s heart beat rapidly as he tried to figure out why the computer wasn’t working, wondering if his only chance to find his mom — his blood mom — would never find success.

Then as suddenly as things went wrong the DNA settled and pinged.

Jason watched, his chest tight, as one Danny C. Works, formerly Danny Fenton appeared onto the big screen.

Danny looked a lot like Jason, short cut black hair more straight than the subtle curls of Jason’s own; deep blue eyes, tired in a way that spoke of long days and nights, but with a warm happiness that made the familiar smile — the one Jason would see on himself every time he looked into the mirror — even more striking.

Jason didn’t linger too long on the male identifying gender, nor the fact his mom leaned more towards a masculine name or clothing.

There were plenty of male to female, and female to male leaning individuals that lived in Crime Alley. He had seen it enough to not even bat an eye at it, even now. After all, in Gotham you minded your business least you find yourself in business you can’t leave.

On a different monitor information of Danny C. Works piled for Jason to quickly browse through.

Danny was a senior engineer, no intimate relationships, and with no close connections to family outside of the tentative calls from Jasmine Fenton.

Danny was estranged from Jack and Madeline Fenton, a falling out that had occurred just a little before Danny’s high school graduation. If Jason calculated it correctly that would have been — around the season Jason himself would have been born.

Okay, so no grandparents then but I might have a maybe aunt. Jason scrolled further and stilled.

Twin toddlers: Dante and Danielle Works.

Jason had baby siblings.

He doesn’t let the sting of younger siblings consume him, doesn’t allow the whispering thoughts of why he had been given up when his younger siblings had been kept and so very obviously loved.

Jason took deep breathes, he didn’t have time to linger here. He had a family to get to, and a family he would get to.

It took almost all night to reach, the starlight night sky slowly and surely fading into cloudy wine as the sun rose, but Jason made it.

And when the door opened to his hesitant but firm knock, Jason was unable to speak. His mom — dad, maybe? Did they want to be mom or dad? — stood in the doorway, brows furrowed in confusion.

It was when Danny spoke his vigilante name did Jason only just realize that he was still dressed to the nine’s in his Robin costume.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #jason todd #Danny is mom to two de aged terrors #and will now be a mom to his newest terror #Dan and Ellie de aged due to circumstances when Danny left Amity Park #Dan and Ellie didn’t form until recently from their cores #he had run away with the two and didnt have any connections to other family or friends until Jazz finally tracked him down #but he threatened to go no contact again should she try and push him to return to Amity and speak to their parents #Jazz understands and doesn’t want to lose her baby brother again #clockwork meddled for whatever reason and now Danny is Jason’s mom au #Danny is going to mother that child so hard #yes he is an adult #Jason WILL be loved >:( #Jason is also going to be the best big brother #Dan and Ellie love their mom and big brother #they will bite #Jason thinks Danny is ftm #Danny is biologically male but is more built like Maddie #misunderstandings of gender #and further misunderstandings on how Jason and his two siblings were conceived #Vlad Masters being a theatrical creep #Jason will fist fight old men #he will also fist fight his grandparents

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Hey I’ve been having a rough few days and was wondering if you could do a vox reader with a breeding kink and he’s really protective. Anything else is up to you :) if not thank you anyway! Love your stuff

A/n:I AM SO SORRY I MISSED THIS AND I REALLY HOPE YOU'RE FEELING BETTER!

He wasn't quite sure what was wrong with him, the moment he caught your eye Vox knew that he had to have you, he didn't care what the other Vee's thought and once your where his the Overlord was determined to make you his permanently and what better way than to make you pregnant with his kid.

He knew he didn't have to do this but he wanted it, he needed to do it.

A nail hooking under your chin forcing you to look at him, he could feel the warmth radiating off your skin, your shy little smile was doing something to him.

The way you pressed yourself against him left his breath ragged with barely contained desire. Your small gesture of grasping his tie, the look in your eyes...you wanted this too. His princess, so beautiful, so perfect. Leaning in, Vox wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you flush against his body as his other hand roamed up to caress your cheek tenderly as he kept his gaze focused on you. "You're nothing but trouble." His thumb brushed your plump lip teasingly. "I'm going to ravish you to the point where you forget your own name."

"Vox! Please!" Your lips placed a small kiss to the nape of his neck.

That single plea along with your kiss on his neck was all it took to fray the last threads of his restraint. With a low growl, he spun you around unceremoniously and pinned you against the wall in one smooth motion, caging you with his arms on either side of your head. Your surprised gasp tickled your sense of possession as he ravaged your mouth in a hungry, open-mouthed kiss.

His tongue delved deeper, tasting every inch of your sweet cavern while grinding himself against your core to let you feel how much he ached for you. You mewled and clung to the overlord, arching into his hard length seeking friction. He tore away from the kiss to lavish attention on your neck, biting and sucking marks onto your skin. "You will be the death of me, woman."

Without breaking contact, Vox lifted you up effortlessly and pinned your form between himself and the wall. His hands roamed to squeeze your breasts, swallowing your moans. "I'm going to take you right here, right now. Let everyone hear how much you love it when I fuck you senseless." With that, he tore away your skirts and panties in one go before sinking into your drenched heat with a possessive thrust.

He sheathed himself to the hilt with one final thrust, swallowing your cry of pleasures. You felt exquisitely tight and wet clenching around him, and he had to restrain myself from spilling on the spot. No, this joining was meant to last, to fully worship each and every reaction from you.

Sliding my his under your thighs, he kept you pinned against the wall for better leverage as he pulled out almost completely before slamming back in. The lewd, wet slapping of your joining echoed obscenely but he was past the point of caring, only focused on the ecstasy twisting your expression.

"You like it when I take you like this, don't you, dove? Filling you over and over until your sweet cunt milk me dry." He punctuated each word with deep, punishing thrusts meant to reach the deepest part of your core. Your nails drew blood from his back but the biting pain only spurred him further into a maddened rhythm.

He tilted your hips to change the angle of penetration, targeting that sweet spot inside relentlessly. "Come for me, beloved. Drain this cock inside you and drink every drop as is your due." The chords of your climax snapped shut around him and he followed with a guttural groan, flooding your womb with my seed in thick ropes.

As you went lax yet still clinging desperately in his arms after reaching blissful completion together, he felt his possessiveness growing even more. Nothing makes him happier than pleasuring his star and have you sated. Stilling your harsh breathing, he held you tenderly against the wall, unwilling to part from your warm embrace even for a moment.

His princess felt so impossibly tiny and fragile cradled in his arms like this yet your passion and fire knew no bounds. He worshipped every inch of your flushed face, kissing your brows, nose, cheeks and finally your lips in adoring touches. "I love you, my Star. So much that it consumes me whole."

He meant every word from the deepest pits of his being. You were is his whole world and reason for living. Carefully lowering you until your feet touched the ground but not letting go, Vox brushed aside your mussed hair lovingly. "Come, let get the fuck back to our room for the rest of the night."

Lifting you easily in his arms, you sighed as your eyes closed falling asleep. Vox keeping his head high as he carried you off. He'll keep his word, but for now he's going to let you rest.

You'll need it.

#drabbles #drabble #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin smut #hazbin hotel vox #vox #hazbin vox #vox x reader #vox x you #vox x y/n #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #vox hazbin hotel #vox hazbin x reader #vox smut

[gglitch1dd]

Hi lovey, Can we get more of reader and Bakugou and eijiros kid?? I forgot the names, so im calling them that for now🤡. I kinda wanna know if Katsuki feels some typa stuff like "Lord, she's hugging my kid. Wish it was me who impregnated her🙄"😭😭😭And hunny, eijirous child is so adorable???? I feel like u wrote smth about her being a little plump, and i just KNOW it's from readers cooking and Eijirous genes😛

And btw what do I call u? Just glitch???

(Sorry for answering so late Anon, FORGIVE ME)

Katsuki's kid is Kane, Eijiro's kid is Satomi.

Katsuki definitely feels that way everytime he sees Reader hold Kane.

Fun fact, reader took a lot of care of Kane and Satomi, especially when they were younger and Katsuki, Eijiro and Izuku were busy with hero work, maybe on a long mission or for a few hours, so Kane and Satomi pretty much see reader as their mom but they aren't allowed to call her that (according to Katsuki).

Kane is such a sweetie. He's best friends with Toshinori so he's pretty comfortable around Y/N especially since its a known fact that reader produced a lot of breast milk for when Toshinori was a baby (that brocolli gremlin was a hungry sucker), and considering Kane and Satomi never had a mother in their lives, they got some milk from Y/N (Not directly and she made sure everything was tested and it would be safe for them- be safe with other people's children<3).

So Katsuki would come, Eijiro took a lot more paternity leave than Katsuki, and he would see Y/N trying to teach Eijiro how to take care of newborns and he would see her just holding a little baby Kane who would look all sleepy and drinking from a bottle and holding her finger with his little hand when he was a newborn.

Poor Katsuki sees a glimpse of the future he could have had IF HE HADN'T CHEATED ON READER WITH EIJIRO.

And this man is fighting for his life everytime he sees you. When your hugging little Kane or helping him clean up his face when he eats all messy or kissing him on his cheek happy birthday.

Katsuki can't fight the thoughts in his head.

ESPECIALLY when he sees you all round and pregnant AGAIN, and AGAIN with Izuku's children.

He can't help but think would you glow just as much if it was his baby inside of you and not Izuku's? Would you smile that widely whenever you held your bump like the most precious thing in existence? Would you have that look on your face, that he had engrained into his mind, whenever you came on his cock? That look of pure euphoria with a half lidded gaze and pleasure filled giggles out of your lips.

If he was still at your side, with a diamond ring that he would make sure put Izuku to shame, with his brats inside of you, and his brats calling you mommy, and his brats running to you, and loving you, and feeding from you and hugging you...

would you still look that happy?

Katsuki delusions say you would be even more so.

You love Kane and Satomi just like they were your own, but mostly because they don't have a mom to turn to.

Eijiro is so ever grateful for all of your help. he feels terrible everytime he sees you and he asks for it. He knows that he ruined your relationship with Katsuki, and despite the both of you having talked about it and you having outright stated "No Eijiro, it's okay. I'm happy now! Why would I be mad?"

Eijiro still feels bad.

He tries everything to take care of Kane and Satomi, especially with Katsuki so damn focused on work and trying to surpass Izuku. It was sickening often than not, but Eijiro never got the time to be upset because he was too busy trying to take care of two babies, both five months apart from one another.

Eijiro loved his daughter from the moment he heard her little heartbeat when she was still inside the surrogate's womb. He loved her and prayed for her everyday. And the moment she was born, Eijiro thought his life was full. He had his wonderful Kane, and now his darling daughter Satomi.

Being on breastmilk and her being a Kirishima, Satomi instantly turned into the cutest chubby baby ever. With round cheeks and a giggle laugh that made Eijiro smile. She was a daddy's girl true and true.

She never really does lose the weight even as she grows older, but Eijiro always thinks it suits her because she's so beautiful.

Especially since from a young age, all Satomi wanted to do was follow you around. She would follow you like a little shadow, her ruby eyes, wide and big just like her father's, would watch and try to learn everything that you did. She loved her father but she looked to you as a role model.

She would come home everyday, telling her father of what you had taught her, what new recipe or treat or hack that you had given her today. She would come to you for homework and advice and you even encouraged her extra more with her dreams in singing.

Even though she was a very sensitive thing and often got sad because Katsuki would want her to be a hero just like her fathers, Eijiro never really minded and you were always there to give her that motherly hug that she so craved.

Eijiro knew that his daughter would never have a mother, not in the way that she needed, but he was glad that she had you. He was glad that her and Kane had you. It put his heart to ease everytime his kids would beam up at you with childlike innocence in their eyes.

He wished Katsuki could put the same effort he put into his work as he did with their kids.

-Glitch1d

#kirishima x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki angst #kirishima eijiro x reader #izuku x reader #dilf izuku midoriya #dilf izuku x reader #dilf bakugou x reader #dilf kirishima x reader

[mochinomnoms]

Wondering if MC and Jade marrying each other and have children, will that child have MC ability to read people mind? And If so, imagine that MC didn't tell jade about her ability only for her child casually told their father about it Infront of MC, MC be like:

I am currently leaning to having Jade find out about Yuu's telepathy in PTM, but this scenario is also incredibly funny as hell.

I can't go into why Yuu got magic, as it's a very large spoiler, but I can say that no one is quite sure if their abilities are hereditary or not due to the nature in which they were gained.

Assuming these are biological children, it's a delightful surprise for Yuu when they find out that their little one can also read minds! How nice, to have someone just like you! Yuu is excitedly telling them all the ways in which they can overcome the difficult parts of being a telepath, how to try and not be too invasive, and how to be sneaky about it with others.

Yuu, however, forgets to tell their kid that their dad isn't exactly privy to their telepathy. So they're sweating just an itty bitty bit when their kid's big mouth goes off on it with their dad, saying:

“It's so weird, Papa! This one girl at school likes me, I can hear her head, but she's always so mean to me. But Ama says that it's not too bad once you get used to it, like they did with you in school! Ama said that you had a buncha thoughts about them in school all the time, like my classmate did. Oh! Do you think I'll get to marry her too, like you and Ama?”

Jade is staring at you with a pleasant smile, chin in his hand, as he hums along to his child's talking. “Why, of course!” He tells them, still staring at you with mischievous eyes and an even more mischievous smile.

“I think you like this girl too, or else you wouldn't be thinking about marrying her. Now, why don't you go off and play with your friend next door, we'll clean up.”

Your kid, none the wiser and not really trying to process whatever thoughts are going through your heads, nods and runs off to play. You two stay in the kitchen as you take the dishes to be washed, and Jade puts the leftovers away to take for lunch tomorrow. As you wash the dishes, Jade spooks you by wrapping his arms around your midsection and kissing your left temple.

After years of marriage, you'd become less aware of Jade's presence around you, it was becoming second nature. Like his mind was just another part of your own. So, when you were distracted like times like this, Jade reveled in being able to spook you, just a bit.

“So, telepathy, hmm?” Jade sighed, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “That would certainly explain a few things. Though, that does bring up a question…”

Jade pushed you against the sink, tightening his hold around you and he hummed against your neck. His thoughts were busy with ideas of taking you against the sink, of covering your mouth to keep you quiet, of littering bites along your collarbone like a pretty red necklace.

“Did you like hearing all my dirty thoughts about you? About the ways I wanted to take you? Use you? Make you my own?”

The front of your shirt was getting wet, the plate in your hands dropping into the soapy hot water as you grabbed his hands, wandering under your shirt and into your pants.

“J-Jade, not here, it's embarrassing—”

“Oh, but you like that, why else would you let me pursue you? You knew how I felt, and yet never shut me down. Why? Because you wanted me too? You can admit it my pearl, it's okay, I like it when you get flustered~ You're so cute when you are, no wonder you had me wrapped around your finger~”

Jade began moving his hips against yours, his breath becoming heavy as you moved against him despite your earlier remarks. Because yes, you really did like the way he made you hot and bothered. You liked that he desired you so reverently, even now, after years of being together. It was like you two never really left your honeymoon phase.

“Our little one will be at their playmate's for a while, why don't you read my mind and tell me about all the things I want to do to you?”

#mochi asks #lavender-stuff #twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #ptm #suggestive #alskjflaskjflaksglaneio #jaaaaaaade #jade pls i just need a chance

[fanfictilltheend]

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

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

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

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

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

Word Count: ~13k

PART 1

AO3 Link

Violent Heart Masterlist

Full Masterlist of all my work

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel grins.

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

***

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

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

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

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

Joel’s face flattens.

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

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

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

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

Joel examines your face, looks deep into your eyes.

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

You smile to yourself.

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

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

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

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

You open your mouth, but Joel beats you.

“And that’s that,” he insists. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you truly do appreciate the sentiment. 

***

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

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

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

You nod off.

***

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

Typical.

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

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

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

Sweat drenches your whole body as you come down. 

God, you are so fucked.

***

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

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

And then you realize: that something is you.

You grin back.

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

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

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

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

“Thanks so much,” you tell him.

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

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

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

The butterflies in your chest howl. 

***

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

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

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

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

Joel rolls his eyes.

“Show me what you’ve got.”

***

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

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

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

“Jeez,” you reply.

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

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

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

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

He backs away and you whine internally at the loss.

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

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

You look into Joel’s eyes.

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

Joel watches you intently, sitting up straighter. 

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

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

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

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

You blush. 

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

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

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

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

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

You sit back up straight.

“You did? I never knew that.”

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

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

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

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

“Right here.”

***

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

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

“Looking good, old-timer.”

He snorts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was that Joel flirting? With you?

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

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

***

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

“ Christ, you look beautiful, babygirl.”

***

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

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

“Joel,” Joel replies flatly, eyeing Max.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Max frowns ever so slightly. 

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

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

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

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

Max’s cheeks turn a bit pink.

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

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

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

“Joel–”

“Who said I wasn’t?” Max sneers. 

That makes you feel a bit better. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Max never loses. 

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

You know it’s over then.

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

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

You shiver and Max positively cowers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel flinches.

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

He stares at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then Joel is breaking away from you slowly.

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you,” you whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

“Me too,” you giggle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That okay?”

“Yes,” you whine. “Want more, Daddy.”

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

“Sorry…” you mumble. “I–”

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

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

He snickers. 

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

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

That’s good because you’re positively drenched.

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

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

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

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

Joel looks flabbergasted. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Daddy,” you whine.

“Enough, little one,” Joel whispers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Daddy,” you nod, snickering. 

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

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

You grin, but then your face falls. 

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

Max hates your hair down there.

Joel looks at you in confusion.

He laughs, his face scrunching up.

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

You shiver.

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You happily fall backward. 

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

He bites your lips roughly and you groan against him.

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

“Yeah, duh, Daddy,” you snicker.

As if he even needs to say it! 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Daddy. Only yours.”

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

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

“Only Daddy.”

“Only you.”

“Good girl,” he growls.

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

“Joel,” you whine. “Oh my God.”

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

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

inside your body.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Joel does stop for a moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pauses, sweat glistening on his brow, sneering.

“You really want harder?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When your words come back you reply,

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m serious,” he snickers.

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You think about it for a second.

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

He pauses, both his words and fingerpicking. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PART 1

Violent Heart Masterlist

Full Masterlist of all my work

Tags:

@toxicanonymity @motelprincess444 @epicrainbowsheep @anama-cara @sheepdogchick3

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@paanchusblog   @prettystrangething @untamedheart81 @kotourasan123 @valkyreally

@lunpycatavenue

#ao3 #fanfiction #joel miller #the last of us #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller/you #joel miller/reader #violent heart #my fic #dark joel miller #smut #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #stepdad joel miller #mechanic joel miller #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #dark fic #pedro pascal

[venture4treasure]

“Of course I dream of more”

Words: 952

Premise: Servant!Reader washes Noble!Venture hair. They have a conversation. 

Warnings: A bit of forbidden love and mutual pining, but otherwise nothing! 

“Lay down,” you instruct, gesturing at the cot – the edge of the bed frame is pressed against a tub of water. 

Venture does as you tell them, tilting their head back into the water. They try to look at you, but you’re a bit too far out of their peripheral vision. 

Pulling over a stool to sit down across from Venture, you dip your hand into the tub of water, it’s a pleasant warm temperature. You splash water onto dry locks of hair before reaching to brush back their bangs, submerging them. You’ve barely done anything and you can see dirt muddying the clear water.

“Thanks for making it warm,” Venture relaxes. 

“As opposed to… cold?” You raise a brow, “why would it be cold”. 

“Some of the other servants don’t bother with warm water,” Venture pouts, “I’m starting to think they hate me”. 

“I’m starting to think I might hate you,” you comment, brushing your hand through their hair and watching debris wash out, “how do you even get so much filth into your hair? Weren’t you supposed to be sword training today?” 

Venture laughs awkwardly. 

“Sloan…” you drawl. 

“Well… I may have been helping out in the mines instead today”. 

“The mines? Isn’t that below your station?” 

“They tell some of the best stories! Besides, father doesn’t need to know”. 

You sigh in disbelief, switching to massaging soap into their hair and head. Venture stops themselves from whatever they were planning to say to lean into your touch. You chase off the silence by humming fragments of a song you heard in passing – it’s not good singing but Venture doesn’t mind, they like to hear your voice. 

“So, do you ever think about doing something different from this?” Venture asks, waving their hand in the air.

“What do you mean?” 

“Like, don’t you ever want to try something different? A different line of work, like being a scholar! God, I wish father would’ve let me just study instead of trying to shape me up into some kind of perfect heir to the family – that’s what Mauga’s gonna be anyways!” Venture groans. 

You chuckle at their whining. 

“No, not really,” you answer, “I don’t think there’s anything else I can do to earn money. I am very lucky and grateful to be doing this in the first place”.

Venture goes quiet, their expression drops into a thoughtful one. They turn over the idea of needing money to live in their mind, it’s a concept so far detached from their day to day life, they don’t really understand it. There was always food if they were hungry, nice clothes for any occasion they could think of, and there was always a roof to go home to. Everything they needed was always there within arms reach.

“If you had the money, what would you do?” Venture wonders, both to you and themselves, “like, a lot of money”.

“I’d find a teacher to show me how to read and write,” you answer without hesitation, “and then… maybe I would travel to different kingdoms. I’d like to dance in those big ballrooms at least once. And… I’d probably find someone who treats me well to settle down with, in a nice and safe house close enough to the city market”. 

Venture glances up at you, taking in your face. Your eyes sparkle dreamily, a soft smile on your lips. Their heart aches at the sight combined with your words. 

You shake yourself out of the fantasy, “but my life now isn’t so bad either, it could be so much worse”. 

“What is your life right now?” 

“Right now, I work for your family, it pays enough to support me. One day, I’ll probably marry someone who’ll want kids, and I’ll try to raise them right…” you slightly cringe at your own reality, “protect them if I have to. I just hope I marry someone decent…” 

“You don’t plan to choose?” 

“I don’t really get a choice,” you shrug, “I have nothing to my name, I’ll probably just marry someone like me. Have kids so there’s someone to support me when I grow old. That’s how it usually goes”.

Venture doesn’t like your answers, they want to see you as happy as you were to share your dream. 

“Sit up a bit please,” you nudge them forward, and Venture pulls their hair from the dirty water so you can rinse out the soap. You comb their hair and lightly scratch their scalp as you clean away the soap. 

“Mann, that feels so nice”.

You make a noise of acknowledgement. 

Finally you’re done with their hair – you always forget how much of a pain it is when it gets dirt tangled in it. You wrap a towel over it so it doesn’t drip onto their clothes. 

“Okay, I’m done”, you announce, getting up to stretch. 

 Venture almost makes a noise of disappointment.

“Hey,” Venture calls out your name lightly, “would you like it if I taught you how to read and write?” 

You turn to face them, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “why?” 

They walk over to you, taking your hands into theirs. 

“Because I think you deserve to have a chance at happiness,” they smile, and there’s so much more they want to say, but they keep it to themselves. 

Your face heats up from the touch.

“Ah-” you stammer, “that would be nice, I’d really like that. Thank you”. 

Venture glows at your reaction, smiling wide. 

“Okay, now help me dry my hair, pleaseee,” they beg. 

“You can do that yourself”.

“I’m going to shake”.

“Do not threaten me,” you shoot back.

Venture holds your stare with determination in their eyes and you falter. 

“Okay, fine!” 

Author’s Note: I realized afterward that this setup doesn’t make sense at all and there’s so many logical issues with the concept but I really wanted to write it anyways. Spare me :( 

Mauga is Venture’s older brother in this. 

I just wanted an excuse to write about Venture’s hair. It’s so fluffy and needs to be appreciated. And they most definitely would shake to dry themselves and splash water everywhere. 

#venture fics #venture x reader #venture x you #venture overwatch #overwatch venture #venture #sloan cameron #sloane cameron #overwatch x reader #overwatch fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #what happened… this was meant to be like <500 words #im not going to do art for all of these #just whenever i feel like it :9 #meant to be a lower effort self indulgent drabble in between other works #something soft because my other drafts sure arent

[sunakittymeow]

Summery: You guys broke up due to a stupid reason and he's getting you back no matter what.

Genre: Fluff

Warning: None

Requested: No

A/n: took so long, finished it long time ago but forgot to post 😭. Reblogs are appreciated.

Mikey wasn't certainly good at most of the things but love. He never understood the concept of the word called love. Surely he never dated, he was too occupied with gang shit that he never really thought of love and to give any attention towards it.

Until you came and swept him off his feet. You weren't more special than any girl, you were simple and kind like the rest of them. But what made his heart flutter when you respected his passion for his gang? Brought him his favourite snack-dorayaki. When you comfort him all the time whenever he gets upset because of his dead brother. You never left him or made him feel small.

He was very glad because of that but yet after getting into a relationship you both shortly broke up after 1 year. Why? You still questioned yourself.

Was it because you have gotten chubbier? Or was it because you have gotten skinnier and it made you look like a skeleton? Or was it because he was ashamed to call you his girlfriend in front of everyone or was it because he was simply tired of you, your nagging and the simple gesture of being worried for him? You still wonder about that.

But why does it hurt Manjiro so much to look at you with another boy instead of him?? Something isn't right when you are with someone else, you should be with him. He was shameless after practically breaking up with you for no reason and a proper explanation he still wanted you to look after him and only him. Call him possesive but isn't what he is?

"Are you dating him?"

A cold voice spoke out behind you making you immediately turn.

"What are you...doing here?"

You spoke slowly, too shocked to say anything. He was the least expected person to be here.

You were waiting for your name co-worker to come back from the store since you needed some food supplies.

"You didn't answer my question"

"You didn't either"

He blankly stared at you.

"You have bad taste"

"Huh"

You questioned him.

"What do you mean?"

"Your taste has gotten worse"

You widen your eyes at his statement, what does he mean by that? Was he thinking you and your co-worker are dating and that's why he is saying? Or something else.

Questions after questions keep flooding inside your head making your head spin.

"We aren't..dating"

"Really?"

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his statement.

"What you are doing here anyway?"

"To buy dorayaki what else...don't think I'm stalking you or something"

His tone changed after your last statement, which makes you wonder if was it really because he was relived you weren't dating your co-worker or if was it because he has bipolar disorder.

"Okay, I guess"

You decided to walk away from him. But he keeps catching up with his bike. You stopped in your tracks.

"What do you want?"

"Aight, let's get back together"

You stared at him as if he was talking gibberish.

"Are you for real?"

"For real"

he smiled confidently.

"No, we broke up already"

"Well we did but it was your fault anyway"

He gasped dramatically and shook his head at you imitating a hurt expression.

"You ate my dorayaki".

He exclaimed once again.

"Geez Mikey it was just a dorayaki"

You rolled your eyes.

"See, that's a valid reason"

you stared at him for some seconds and started to walk away as fast as you could.

"Wait!"

"What now?"

He took a deep breath.

"Sorry."

"for?"

"I took this matter too far"

"You did"

He wondered everywhere except you, he was trying to find words to tell you but looks like he could not find any.

"Ken-chin told me that it was too childish and I was immature acting like a kid"

"He is right and you are a kid though"

His eyes darkened.

"I'm sorry. Please don't leave me. I couldn't fall asleep nor eat peacefully"

"So you are bringing me back just for your own benifit?"

He shakes his head.

"No. You are kind of my habit. Just like people can't spend a day without blinking their eyes I can't spend my day without you, I need you. Please forgive me and let's get back together"

"That was... lowkey cringe"

You murmured to yourself.

"I heard that"

"I missed you"

He smiled.

"Hop on my bike already"

You did as he said and drove off somewhere. It was already evening. He stopped, parking the bike somewhere.

"Mikey?"

He hummed.

"Will you leave me ever again? For somebody else?"

You asked him.

"Never."

"How can I believe you? You broke up with me because of a dorayaki."

He realized how big of a matter it was to you. He felt bad for making you feel this way.

"Come here!"

You did and closed the distance between you and him.

"Would you mind?"

He pointed at your lips. You understood what he meant and slowly nodded.

Soon he brought his lips closer to yours and placed his lips onto yours, it was a soft and gentle kiss. Mikey didn't have to say anything after it. The kiss said enough about how he misses you. The slight desperation was visible that he had missed you.

Shortly after, he pulled away.

"I don't know about promises or keeping them but I promise that I won't do that again"

You both stared into each other's eyes once again.

"You sure?"

He gave you a small smile and leaned once again to let his lips collide with yours to tell you the answer.

#tr x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #mikey x reader #mikey x you #tokyo revengers x you #mikey sano x reader #manjiro sano x reader #bonten x reader #bonten x you #bonten x y/n #toman x reader

[thedenofravenpuff]

How do you feel about other ship's?

Like jack-o-moon x bloodmoon?

Sun x foxy?

Ruin x kc?

I've seen those ships and I canda like them

What's your opinion about the ship's?

Oh boi. I don't consider myself the biggest shipper, though I do find it fun to explore certain relationships just for the heck of it. I love observing how such things get handled in stories and art around in fandoms.

And for these specific examples, you be giving? Well, let's see..

Jack O Moon x Bloodmoon:

Purely platonic to me. For one Jack is too much of a kid, a young AI still learning, to really feel right to ship him with anyone. He's just a sweet bean still learning and growing. More interested in friendships and family than anything else. Let him reach robot puberty before I'll consider anything beyond that with him.

And Bloodmoon is absolutely not interested in anything, physical or romantic. I do adore Jack liking to hang out with him because of the things they have in common and I do hope they can build a brotherhood or at least a friendship together.

Kids Cove aka Sun x Foxy:

Nah, that one was purely crack from the show. Just them making fun of shippers and how things often get read too much into if two characters stand too near each other one minute too long.

So far in the show Sun's showed no interests or preferences since Roxanne, besides the funny commentary on game videos like Cult of the Lamb. Yes I do be a suneclipse shipper, just because I like the idea of the fixer-upper with the anxious ray of sunshine together. And Sun's attraction to the right mixture of toxic traits.

Foxy's also the most straight guy on the entire SB Show. Although I do like he's comfortable enough in his own masculinity to play into Kids Cover just for funzies and clickbait. He really hasn't moved on from Mangle whatsoever.

Ruin x KC:

Yes

I entirely blame @witchysolfan and @dana-chan-the-control-brain for this one, I just find it entertaining in all the right ways! I love a silly ship you can really dig into and look at from all sorts of angles to see how it'd work!

KC being a floozy on tinder already a funny joke on its own, to make one wonder how he swings. Throw in a chaotic nihilist like Ruin? Yeah, I'm bringing popcorn!

Heh, well, these are just my over all quick thoughts on these ships. There's no wrong or right way to ship as long ya respect when others go about it their own ways. Is just about having fun.

Enjoy!

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#PuffBlog #MyArt #Ask #Anon #SAMS #TSAMS #The Sun And Moon Show #Shipping #Ship #Shipping AU #Jack O Moon #Jack #Bloodmoon #Sun #Foxy #KC #Ruin #Kids Cove #OTP #Suneclipse #Daily Doodle #Sketch #Traditional Art #Ramble #Puffy Rambles

[some-little-infamy]

Here For You

(Read on AO3)

Tommy can’t believe that he’s about to meet Evan’s parents for the first time while Evan’s entire face is covered in soot from their kiss in the hallway. Tommy does his best to wipe at it during the short distance they have to travel from the entryway to the room that Chimney, Maddie, and the rest of their friends and family are in, but he’s pretty sure he only makes it worse somehow.

“Sorry I missed the ceremony,” Tommy says, making a quick beeline for the happy couple before he can get pulled into the rest of the reason he’s here.

“Thanks Tommy. Looks like you were… busy,” Chimney says pointedly, glancing from Tommy to Evan with realization dawning on his face. Maddie simply smiles next to him, and Tommy gives her a knowing grin in return knowing that she’s one of the few in the room already aware of his and Evan’s relationship.

“Would you believe that I told the fire it was your wedding day, and it still wouldn’t just go out on it’s own?”

“The audacity,” Chimney laughs, shaking his head. “You could’ve gone home first, you know.”

“And miss a single second of this?” Tommy replies. “Not a chance.”

“I think there’s a shower in here if you want to use it,” Maddie offers with a wink. “Looks like you could both use it,” she adds with a smirk in her brother’s direction.

Evan, his hand clasped in Tommy’s, stands close enough that their arms are touching, effectively ruining the blue hoodie that brings out his eyes better than anything else Tommy’s seen him in to date.

“Maybe later,” Evan jokes back.

The timing of that suggestive back-and-forth could not have been worse, because it’s at that moment that an older couple Tommy has to assume are Evan’s parents come up behind him with a disapproving frown and narrowed eyes.

“You’re with the groom, I’m assuming?” Mr. Buckley says, glancing at the entire state of Tommy’s… well, just of Tommy, really.

Before Tommy can reply, Evan steps in.

“Actually, he’s with me,” Evan says, his tone a hint of defiance mixed in with a lot of pride and a dash of nervousness to bring it all together. Evan’s grip on Tommy’s hand tightens and Tommy squeezes right back. He’s taking Evan’s lead on this, here for whatever Evan needs. “Mom, Dad, this is Tommy. Tommy, these are my parents.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Buckley. And congratulations on your daughter’s wedding,” he says, feeling more pride than he thought he would at how easily Evan introduces him. It isn’t an easy thing, he knows first-hand, and he’s honored to be here not only for Evan, but with Evan. “Forgive me for not shaking your hands,” he adds, glancing down at himself with a rueful smile.

“With you?” Mrs. Buckley asks, not missing a beat.

“Yeah. Tommy’s, uh, he’s my date. We’re… seeing each other. It’s new.”

“I’ll say,” Mr. Buckley comments, eyebrow arched.

“You have a wonderful son,” Tommy offers. “You must be so proud of Evan.”

“Evan?” Mrs. Buckley echoes, sounding surprised but pleased to hear Tommy use Evan’s name. Then her pursed lips curl up into a smile. Tommy’s relieved, and Evan looks genuinely shocked at the shift. “Well, Thomas, it’s nice to meet you too.”

Ah. Well, it may have been entirely unintentional, but he isn’t about to turn down the accidental approval from Evan’s mother.

“I’m going to freshen up, then I want to hear every embarrassing story about Evan as a kid you have time for,” Tommy suggests, earning a look of mortified betrayal from Evan and a gentle chuckle from Evan’s parents.

Evan follows him as he turns towards the small bathroom attached to the side of the hospital room.

“Too much?” Tommy asks, hoping the answer is no.

“You were perfect,” Evan says, leaning in to give him a kiss that’s comparatively chaste after their last one. “Maybe a little too perfect.”

“Ah, I get that complaint a lot,” Tommy says with an overly dramatic sigh. “I simply don’t know how to be less perfect. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

“Uh-huh,” Evan says, shaking his head. “Just hurry up in there.”

“You’re not coming in with me?” Tommy asks, joking. Well, mostly joking. There’s a small part of him that wouldn’t be opposed, even with everyone here to watch them slip away together.

Evan rolls his eyes, but hesitates for just a moment too long to pretend he doesn’t consider it, too.

“Go,” Evan repeats, pushing Tommy towards the door.

Tommy laughs, heading in to shed a layer or two of gear and wash what bits of his face and hands he can before making his way back out to the one person in the crowd he’s really here for.

“Thanks for being here,” Evan tells Tommy while they’re still off to the side of the main group. “I know it’s for Chimney, but-”

“I’m here for you, Evan. Sure, it’s Chimney’s wedding, but I could’ve congratulated him tomorrow. I’m here right now because you wanted me here.”

Evan flushes slightly. “Well… thanks,” he repeats. “It means… it means more to me than you know. I think it means more than I realized, uh, before now.”

Tommy gave Evan a knowing smile. “You don’t have to thank me, but you’re welcome. Now, ready to show me off to all your friends?”

Evan laughs, the tension in his shoulders loosening with the action. “Let’s go.”

#bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 on abc #911 spoilers #coda fic #elle writes a few deadbeat lines #kinkley #evan buckley x tommy kinard

[nicosraf]

Hi Rafa!

Back again in your inbox and I have what’s probably a silly question but I am nothing but silly and goofy so I’ll ask anyway

I was thinking about yk the verious depictions of lucifer (as every sane and normal person does) and it got me wondering onwhat made you decide to characterise Lucifer the way you did, mainly because usually in modern media he’s very much seen as a anti-hero and mostly he’s seen as a good (-ish) guy that didn’t do too much wrong, the rebellion is usually very much written off as something akin to teenage rebellion and God is just seen as a disappointed parent that had no other choice but teach a lesson to his kids (and well that is of course because gods forbid someone sees God as anything less than the perfect father but I digress), for example the Lucifer series does this and in part too hazbin hotel.

And idk it was refreshing to see your read of Lucifer, he starts good and very much kidlike and then his wonder and love become corrupt I’d say, I struggle to call him evil because well for one I have what could be considered too much sympathy for him and I understand him, he was set up to fail in a lot of ways. So I guess I just wonder what made you say “no I’m going to keep the “bad” and “evil” that is in him”

(I am aware that the answer is probably just well he’s like that in most classical depictions but idk I want to hear you ramble about Luci and his development because that’s always interesting and I love it ajdhsh)

Sorry for the confused ramble anyway lots of love from Italy <3

-J :)

Hello! This is a dangerous question!! I have many many essays I'd love to write about the depiction of Lucifer in media and about what eventually led me to making Lucifer like that. It's also fresh in my mind right now because I saw that Lucifer Hazbin Hotel episode recently. (I actually don't have a ton of thoughts on Hazbin Lucifer. He is very cute, but Hazbin isn't trying to be theological I think; it's just having fun with the mythology.)

I would say that societal depictions of Lucifer always mirror a lot of the way that society has come to understand not the devil, but God, parent-child relationships, authority, tradition, and so on. Some people think Paradise Lost was the first to make Lucifer a hero, but it's actually very clear that Milton wanted his flaws to outweigh the good things, to make Satan ultimately a bad person, and to justify God's actions to us.

Like 200 years later, William Blake started saying that Paradise Lost was pro-Lucifer, though by accident: "Milton was of the Devil's party without knowing it." But Blake lives in a very different time, during the French and American revolutions and the industrial revolution. Old traditions and empire are getting shaken up, the story of Lucifer looks a lot more heroic.

I won't get too much into how Satanic panic affected things (or even the rise of anti-theist communist regimes!), though I think the Satanic panic of the 90s really exacerbated Lucifer's connection to teenage rebellion. (Also, I'm focusing on the US because of how much their media is exported and influences other countries).

But so then we got the modern Lucifer I used to see quite a bit — suave, night club owning, slutty, probably referenced bisexual, manipulator of women. I always thought this development was kind of strange. It's almost like what Blake did to Milton's Lucifer; we didn't change how the people before us thought of him, we just decided that the Lucifer we're supposed to hate is actually super cool.

But I was not super compelled by this Lucifer. And I reference these lines a lot, but the idea of Satan in Western Christianity came from several passages from the Bible, one of which is Ezekiel 28, and I was really struck with line 14: “You were blameless in your ways from the day you were created till wickedness was found in you," as well as the multiple times the chapter stresses that the cherub of Eden fell because of his corrupting beauty above all.

I realized I never really saw "blameless" Lucifer, innocent Lucifer. In a lot of interpretations, he's just sort of born wrong or always a little Evil. But the lines say that he was innocent once, and I got really caught up in that. I thought of God watching Lucifer be beautiful and innocent in all that time (like a voyeur).

It felt like the next step in Lucifer's development to take the child-parent relationship between him and God and make it ugly. (Though sticking with the dichotomy of good vs evil didn't really work for me. Lucifer isn't good but he's not evil either, and the weird love and hate mixture is what brings him closer to how God is, too (to me)).

We live in a day and age where all authority is being critiqued, where we don't laugh at teenage rebellion as much. I mean, if you watch any recent Disney movie, you'll see parents learning from their children to stop the cycle of generational abuse. And, of course, with Lucifer becoming so associated with queerness (Lil Nas' MONTERO for example), the framing that he's just a metaphor for a teen rebel who will one day realize his dad was right... falls apart. Lots of teens kicked out of their house for being gay are grown up now and making shows/movies/etc.,. And I think it's always better not to shy away from trauma victims being imperfect and, occasionally, cruel.

So. yeah! I've always been surprised that Lucifer as an imperfect victim of parental abuse, running away, taking some of his sibling with him, isn't more common in general.

#i may not be making sense rn #mine #ask

[arliedraws]

Hi! I hope you don’t mind me sending you this ask, I saw you answered some others and there is something that I wonder about but have never really seen anyone talk about?

There’s this theory that the Dursleys come off as worse than they actually are because they have to take Harry and he’s a horcrux, and we see with the locket that horcruxes can bring out the worst in the people carrying it. This lessens immediately when it’s taken off, even if it’s still close, so it’s probably a thing of possessing it or having responsibility for it.

This has also been brought up in regards to Kreacher, who’s also not too pleasant when we meet him, but then again, he also sort of carries responsibility for the horcrux at that time, considering Regulus ordered him to destroy it.

But the horcrux is in Grimmauld Place all that time, and technically, Sirius owns it, and is probably the one who spends the most time in its vicinity (except for maybe Kreacher) because he can’t leave the house. This period is also the period we (as readers) see Sirius at his worst.

Of course there is more than enough reason and then some for Sirius to get depressed in that place/time, but I thought it was really interesting because fans give some leniency to the Dursleys and Kreacher for their behaviour with the theory that it was influenced by the Horcrux, but that same leniency is not extended towards Sirius.

So, I’m personally not sure if I think being the owner of and close to a horcrux (and perhaps even two when Harry’s there as well; although he of course doesn’t ‘possess’ Harry or have (legal) responsibility for him at that moment unlike the Dursleys, and we never see a negative effect on Ron, Hermione or any of the Weasleys due to contact with Harry either) really made things worse for Sirius seeing as they were bad enough by themselves, but I was wondering what you thought? Do you think Kreacher/the Dursleys are affected by their respective horcrux, and do you think Sirius could be as well. And if yes, do you think there would be a negative effect if in theory Sirius got custody over Harry instead of the Dursleys?

Sorry, this turned out a bit longer than anticipated!

Always bother me with this stuff! Haha, I love thinking about theories.

I’ve heard this theory before, but I’m afraid I don’t find it particularly interesting. This theory does not illuminate the most salient themes of the series nor does it explain characterization in a compelling way. The truth is, Petunia was always a judgmental, selfish person and she married a judgmental, selfish person. The Dursleys were always terrible! And like you said, Harry’s other friends don’t seem to have anything but normal conflicts with Harry. Fans want to forgive people for their terrible actions (and not Sirius? why do people hate him?)—but my question is: why?

Characters, in general, need to atone for actions if they are to be “redeemed” (which is…not even necessary most of the time, tbh). Giving them an out by saying “Ah well, they can’t be blamed—they were under the influence of Dark Magic!” is so boring. What are we learning as an reader? What is the message here? I don’t want characters to be saved—I want them to save themselves! It’s so much more compelling and satisfying.

If Kreacher was under any influence, it was the pure-blood supremacy rhetoric of the Black family. He was devoted to Mrs. Black—he parroted her beliefs and values, and it was deeply offensive to him that Sirius would insult the family like he did. The Dursleys, likewise, are just unpleasant, bigoted people. No, I think the only way for the Horcrux to have an effect is to have physical contact—this is demonstrated when Hermione pleads with Ron to take off the locket, and when Harry expresses his relief when he takes it off and feels normal again.

Now, I’ll tell you what might be interesting (devastating) would be to see Sirius wearing the locket in DH because he insists on taking the burden himself instead of the kids. Maybe Harry would argue, but the longer Sirius has it on, the more he sinks into this sort of toxic “I must sacrifice myself you dumb child” sort of thinking. I’d be interested to see how it would really bring out the absolute worst in him because I think if he were REALLY under the influence of a Horcrux, he could be quite cruel if he weren’t careful. Granted, I think Sirius is very aware of his own actions, so maybe he would keep those cruel thoughts to himself, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t have them.

Ooooh, someone write a fic now where Sirius insists on carrying the locket and really has to fight off the darkness…

Anyway, thank you for the ask!

#asks #sirius black #harry potter #horcruxes #hp meta

[a-small-tired-lonely-potato]

Girl met Mel and immediately chose violence, and ya' know what? I don't blame her.

But while Anne being 237% done with Meliodas being a pervert is hilarious, it was not funny enough to prevent my brain from coming up with a heart shattering observation.

Mel kept it together but if that were me, and a bunch of Teenagers, kids, were crying about having to leave their friends, and I go to rectify that, maybe prank them a little, and they all start freaking out and apologizing because they think I'm going to beat them?

Like actually Stab them? Cut them?

Kids that are my own child's age???

I would be heartbroken, even if they all bounce back afterwards, for a couple of seconds this child, this young girl, really thought she was about to get assaulted and the only thing she thought to do was get down on her knees and apologize.

I'd be awake for nights afterwards wondering what I did to have them think that...

#nanatsu no taizai #seven deadly sins #the four knights of the apocalypse #4kota #percival #donny #nasiens #anngalhad #meliodas #oh look I made myself sad again #id cry #i would shed real tears at this thought #and wonder if my own kid thought like that too...

[shorlinesorrows]

qpr jean and neil. that's all i'm gonna say.

do you see my vision?

#i might add onto this later but right now I'm too busy crying #“misplaced forever partner” ARE YOU KIDDING ME THAT DESTROYED ME #neil ordering a hit to keep jean safe changed my brain chemistry #i need them to be friends #i need them to call each other and gossip and send each other stupid memes that only they understand #i need them to slowly grow closer as they heal until one day they can finish each other's sentences #and they ocassionally make super dark jokes about their trauma out of the blue (they bet on how people will react competitively) #i need them to call each other derogatory names but get Super Upset whenever anyone else talks shit about the other and offer to kill them #and i would love them to reclaim the spots next to each other that riko set #and make them their own #they're not partners on the court but they sure as hell are partners in life #the mcs ever #at one point andrew and jeremy are just looking at each other across a table at a restaurant as these two bicker #and realize they have somehow both become the Third Wheel despite the fact that 1) there's four of them and 2) jean and neil aren't dating #the amount of queer platonic pining i could fit in these traumatized people #the: “i'm lowkey obsessed with you but I Really don't like you romantically and I don't know what to do with it” #and the: “oh thank hell me too i thought i was even weirder than i already am. wanna go harass the fbi with me?" #jeremy and andrew watch this trainwreck both exasperatedly and proudly you can't convince me otherwise #cannot convince me that these four won't somehow end up living in each others pockets even if they live 1000 miles away #kevin pops in frequently as his usual wonderful diva self #anyway i'm going insane how yall doing #neil josten #jean moreau #all for the game #the sunshine court

[veggiecorner]

I saw someone on Twitter talk about how BOTW-verse Zelda wouldn't have kids, which would end the goddess bloodline and now it has me thinking like....did every Zelda...always end up having kids? For thousands of years? Was the bloodline continuous since Skyward Sword Zelda (which has to be like...hundreds of thousands of years AT LEAST at this point). It's interesting to think about in a scenario where a Zelda doesn't manage to have kids....how does the bloodline come back...

#but to add to the first point: i do like the idea of Zelda (botw/totk) not having kids #she would just raise her found family #we know Zelda is good with kids but her own??? idk...i just see it as her being like “the people of hyrule are my family” #link who has been wondering if their kids would have her hair or his hair: hm? yeah? oh okay. sure. yeah. yeah.. #(he'd definitely agree with her but i like to think he's often thought about family stuff...he wants to be in his his trad wife era) #anyways just things i thought about thats weird about the timeline and lore #shout out to botw/totk for being inconsistent! #i also think it would be a nice end for her character arc too? #she's been so pressured about goddess's powers #the royal family/line #her duty #etc #it'd be weird if she has a kid (god forbid a DAUGHTER) and doesn't fear history to repeat itself for them #okay rant over bye #is it though #botw #totk #zelda #zelink #because i mention link here KJDBAJK #and my mind will always be on some zelink shit

[handsomegentlebutch]

My 3 little cousins were baptized today. "Triggered" is kind of a strong word but being in a catholic church again... I'm a little fragile rn ngl.

#butch speaks #it was hard not to shake as i held J over the basin to have the water poured on his head #when he was cleansed of sin. as if a little kid could ever knowly or intentionally offend a so-called loving god #the words came naturally to me #but they meant nothing #i remember when they used to mean something. when i begged gods forgiveness for my sin (being a lesbian) and tried to pray the gay away #i remember how much i wanted to die bc i could never truly embrace the sacred #i STILL deal with the complex of catholic guilt. its a very real thing. its hard to shake #i cant help but wonder if the catholicism ingrained in my brain is why i have a hard time with casual dating n sex #fun fact: there was a point when i was a teen that i got REALLY catholic #i prayed everyday. i talked to my patrin saint (st agnes) every day. i wantsd to become a nun #the thought of marrying a man mad me more sad than feeling like an alien did. so id marry the church as a nun. #not the way to hide being a dyke when ur fam is catholic btw LMAO #the first priest i knew was father joe. i loved that guy. he was so kind. friendly. briming with love. #he was one of my biggest references for what a good person was like #he talked about gods love a lot. how its for everyone. no one is exluded. ever. #he used to look right at me when he said stuff like that. a few other kids too. all of whom grew up to be queer #then father joe passed away. our church merged with another church. father jeff was the priest there. #he was kind but not as kind. he talked about hell and sin more. he looked at the same kids father joe did. #but the kindness in his eyes wasnt there. #that wasnt for us. #my family wasnt even THAT catholic #i went to church every sunday i did vacation bible school and catechism classes and youth group #i was an altar servant and in the choir #i even used to speak/understand a little latin #imagine how much worse id have been if my mom could have afforded catholic school lmao #grateful to have grown up poor in that regard #hm. actually... reading my own tags. mayne we were pretty catholic actually. #fucking hell. #i need to have lesbian sex in a church before god and everyone. mayeb that would fix me.

[whysamwhy123]

IT IS DONE.

I mean...not really because I need to proofread it and if I was really a good writer, I'd probably have to edit it down a ton but whatever, I finished the OrangeHook fic!!

It's just over 8k words, yikes. I should probably take out a ton of it but who knows if I actually will or not. Mostly, I'm just happy because this is the first thing I've finished writing in months? The slump I was in was so bad, I honestly thought I might stop writing completely again. Turns out, all it took to get me back into the swing of things was a brand new pairing and a bad idea!

Didn't write the smut in the end though. I did my usual 'fade to black and then we pick up right afterwards'. Whatever. It's better than embarrassing myself with some shoddy, badly written, unsexy-sex times. And this monstrosity is long enough as it is, so.

At least I had the restraint to not include the part I was thinking of where OC politely asks Hook to never call him daddy. Ever. And Hook's just like ''Uh. Sure?''

Now I just need to polish it up a touch and then I've gotta decide whether I feel up to actually posting this thing or not...

#What is wrong with you Sam you should not be allowed to write #I'm honestly a little impressed by my ability to write something so long and yet so little actually happens LOL #I bet in the hands of a skilled writer this baby would have been like...3k words at most? #But ol' Sammy Sam-Sam's over here like ''WHAT IF EVERYONE TALKED TOO MUCH AND HAD A MILLION THOUGHTS ABOUT EVERYTHING #AND WHAT IF I WENT INTO EXCRUIATING DETAIL ABOUT ALL OF THESE THOUGHTS REGARDLESS OF HOW LITTLE POINT THERE IS TO THEM?'' #Still I had fun and maybe that's what matters in the end? #Still don't think I'm the right writer to handle OrangeHook but it's my brainrot now might as well own it #Oh and in case you're wondering - the final count of the amount of times OC refers to Hook as ''the kid'' is 32 🙂🙂🙂