#and then under each of those i expanded on those thoughts

[fadewalking]

You guys ever look at the blank space for a new reply & go. "Man, idk. tf."

Like you have thoughts but you don't even know where to begin with crafting them in a compelling, in-character way?

If this is u, let me share my strategy that's been working for me lately.

Just stream of consciousness write out every thought or even fragment of thought/dialogue that occurs to you. Don't worry about it sounding ic, or making sense or being descriptive.

You can always make it good later. First it has to exist. Seeing it all laid out will help you find that thought through line, and makes it 10000x easier to get things done, as opposed to trying to come up with something cohesive and coherent on your first pass.

[puppppppppy]

Atla live action 😐

[writing-fanics]

more than anything

Lucifer Morningstar x F!Reader

chapter i > chapter ii > chapter iii

[summary: Charlie Morningstar arrives in hell and meets someone from her dad's past when he was an angel.]

warning: mentions of depression: angst: seemingly unrequited love: loneliness: charlie might be ooc:

Charlie gasped her eyes widened with joy, clasping her hands together jumping up and down excitedly. "Are you Y/n?!" She asked, and the angel looked at her shocked, "You already know about me?" the angel looked at the princess of hell, in disbelief.

"Of course, I do!" She exclaimed, remembering the stories her father used to tell her about, [Y/n].

"My dad would tell me stories about you when I was little!" She said smiling, at [Y/n] who's body tensed up for a moment and her cheeks darkened a little. "Really?" She mumbled, under her breath looking away from the princess for a moment. "I thought he'd forgotten about me." She mumbled, her smile faltering for a moment. Before shaking her head. Forcing a smile on her face.

Charlie looked around the angel's office curiously, "So, your father?" said [Y/n], looking over at Charlie, smiling as she continued to look around the room. "So what did your father tell you about me?" She asked, and the princess of hell nodded.

"Good things I hope?" She said, and the princess of hell looked at the angel. "Of course, he said you were the only angel that believed in him." said Charlie, and the angel smiled reminiscing on times that have long since passed.

"We shared the same dream even adding some ideas onto each others, expanding on them. " said [Y/n], looking down her angelic wings seemed to go limp at her side as she frowned, "That was eons ago," She said, looking down.

Their conversation went on for what seemed like hours, the angel saw so much of the one she loved in his daughter. [Y/n] talked about Lucifer, and stories that he never told Charlie. Charlie watched as the angel's eyes sparkled as she talked about memories. [Y/n]'s heart seemed to swell, and then to suddenly falter back to sadness as she remembered, that she was to shy too scared to confess her feelings for the man she loved.

“You loved him didn’t you?” asked Charlie, and the angel looked over at her in shock and smiled softly, and chuckled softly. “Loved?” said [Y/n], and she smiled her eyes closed as she turned towards Charlie. “I still love him?” She said, her smile forced.

She said, “I couldn't bring myself to tell him,” She wrapped her arms around herself, taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh. “I was afraid of ruining the friendship we already had.” She said, placing her hand on her head her thumb resting on her cheek, as she turned away from Charlie. Letting out a sigh, “I-If he didn’t accept my feelings, I didn't wanna lose what we already had." She bit her lip nervously, and turned back towards Charlie.

“S-So I didn’t." She said, looking at Charlie. The Princess of Hell, could see the sadness and loneliness in her eyes. Eyes that were filled with so much regret, "So, I watched as he fell in love with another." Her voice cracking slightly, clearing her throat she continued.

She pursed her lips inward, "Did and said nothing as he was banished to Hell," She looked down, "But, I can't take back what happened eons ago." She said, forcing a smile on her face as she looked at Charlie.

"So tell me about this Hazbin Hotel, I've been hearing so much about?" She asked, curiously and Charlie's eyes lit up. "Your father, wouldn't of set up a meeting with Heaven, without a reason." She said, and Charlie nodded.

[Y/n] listened intently about Charlie's plan, even though she was going to hear it again in court. She nodded in response smiling, "Sounds intriguing." the angel said, looking at the girl. "I do agree that everyone deserves a second chance." She said, a smile growing across Charlie's face.

"If those sinners that come to the hotel are willing." She added, placing her hands on her desk and sighed. "But, it isn't me who you are going to have too convince." She added, and Charlie looked at her, "But, I believe in the cause." She said, smiling looking at the princess of hell.

[Y/n] looked at Charlie and saw so much of her father in her, her heart couldn't help but ache. "You remind me of your father." Charlie looked at her and smiled, "Thank you, if it wasn't for him I wouldn't be here right now." said Charlie, “The apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree.” said [Y/n] a hint of sadness in her voice.

Charlie smiled softly, "You really do love my dad don't you?" asked Charlie, and the angel looked away closing her eyes for a moment. Taking a deep breath and with a solemn look on her face, she turned back towards Charlie. "More than anything." said [Y/n] sadly, the room filled with silence. She still loves him even after eons have since passed they've last seen each other, "Sorry, I shouldn't even be saying this to you." She said shaking her head.

She scoffed at herself, "Telling you his daughter that I've got some silly crush on him," She shook her head and placed her head on her desk, "Ugh, I'm so pathetic!" She groaned, into her desk. For eons, after Lucifer was banished to Hell. [Y/n] hasn't been the same since forcing a fake smile on her face, while doing her daily angelic duties. With a fake smile plastered on her face.

One the inside she was hurting. She was lonely. She was depressed. Filled with so much regret being the cause of her own lonely existence. If she wasn't such a coward maybe things would've ended up differently maybe they wouldn't?

Charlie placed a hand on shoulder causing [Y/n], to lift her head and look up at her. "I'm sure he misses you just as you miss him." said Charlie smiling, trying to comfort the angel as much as she could.

"He used to tell me so many amazing and wonderful things about you," She said. [Y/n]'s lower lip started to quiver as tears welled up in her eyes, hiding her head into desk. She glanced over at the clock on the wall; lifting her head up from the desk. She wiped away her tears, "I-It's almost time for the court meeting. You should probably get ready." said [Y/n], as she stood up from her chair.

"Maybe, you can visit once this is all over?" Charlie said, and the angel looked at her and smiled, "I'm sure that would make both his and yours day." The angel really could see so much of the man she loved in his daughter, "That sounds like a dream to me." said [Y/n], as she walked towards the door and placing her hand on the door knob.

She missed him dearly and for many years she stayed in heaven, wallowing in self-pity and regret. Loneliness and heartbreak. Grieving over the lover she was to cowards to confess her feelings towards.

"But, I don't know. Right now you should focus on convincing the angels." She said looking at the young demon, as her gaze drifted towards the ground. "I-I shouldn't of even mentioned what I said today." She said a solemn look on her face.

"You have nothing to apologize for." She said, looking at Charlie and smiling, "I have only myself to blame." She smiled sadly, and Charlie and the princess of hell a gave her a sympathetic smile. As Charlie left the room, "Charlie?" The Princess stopped and turned around, "When you see him again." She said, "L-Let him know." She stammered, nervously biting her lip her wings limp at her side.

"L-Let him know that I miss him more than anything," She said sadly, and Charlie smiled and nodded. [Y/n] watched as she walked away, and closed the door behind her and turned away. Leaning her back against the door, she sank to the ground and brought her knees to her chest and cried. "I really am pathetic," She sniffled, once again wallowing in self-pity.

"E-Even, if I were to go and visit would he even wanna see me?" She mumbled, maybe she should. She didn't expect anything from it but, maybe it would fill the hole in her immortal heart. The thought of seeing him again brought a smile to her face, she really did love him with every fiber of her being. She envied Lilith and was jealous of her not in a hateful or spiteful way.

She just..[Y/n] sighed, wiping away her tears. Standing to her feet and dusting herself off, taking a deep breath in and exhaling. As she placed her hand on the doorknob, sighed, leaving her office and making her way towards the courthouse.

If only she knew how much he truly did miss her, as on his desk. Sat a rubber duck that shared the same angelic features as her, wings and all. If only she knew how is heart would ache, as he would glance at it.

if only she knew

how much she truly means to him

a/n: ngl..i kinda wanna maybe make her charlie's stepmom.. i mean she still loves lilth of course but.. i mean.. like.. come on.. i should..

[streetlamp-amber]

first kicks

batfamily x batmom!reader

word count: 1.9k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: family fluff, pregnancy NOTES: i wanted to write more batfam fluff this time with jason included. very sorry if jason is ooc, most of my knowledge of him comes from fics lol

Rainy Sunday afternoons at Wayne Manor were usually spent with you and your sons in the living room, occupying the big U-shaped sectional sofa. Sometimes Bruce would join you three, resting his feet on the coffee table as he worked on his laptop. Today was one of those days.

You were helping Dick do some research on the internet for a science school project that was due next week while Jason laid on his stomach on the other side of the couch, reading a Where’s Waldo? book by himself. Your husband sat in the other corner of the couch, doing some research on the latest villain terrorising Gotham. You didn’t mind if the work he was doing was for Batman, as long as he spent some time with the family outside of the cave, you were satisfied. Especially since the Wayne clan was about to expand in a little more than four months. Plus, with your belly growing bigger as the weeks went by, it was becoming harder for you to do some tasks around the house. Tasks that you didn’t want to ask Alfred for help with since it was your husband’s job to be at your beck and call through the pregnancy. Bruce obviously didn’t mind and loved helping you, he just sometimes tended to get lost in his Batman work for long periods of time.

The television was playing in the background, a football game between two teams that you didn’t really care about was taking place but you didn’t mind. You couldn’t work well without some sort of background noise and this was doing the job.

”So Dick, have you chosen which natural disaster to base your research project on?” Bruce asked your eldest while closing his laptop and joining him on his other side, making the twelve year old squished between his parents.

”We’ve narrowed it down to three: the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami, the 1906 San Francisco earthquake and Hurricane Katrina,” Dick answered, clicking on different tabs of each of the natural disasters as he named them. “I want to do my research on a popular one so I can easily find all the information I need.”

”Smart, isn’t he?” You smirked at Bruce as you mindlessly threaded your fingers in Dick’s dark hair who continued scrolling on the internet.

“Never thought otherwise,” your husband said, mirroring your grin. “Jay, have you found all the Waldos yet?” He leaned forward to ask Jason.

“I’m almost done,” the six year old easily dismissed Bruce, not even bothering to tear his eyes away from the pages.

“It’s best not to bother him when he’s searching for Waldo,” you informed your husband in a low volume.

Bruce nodded his head in understanding and redirected his attention back on Dick. “So, how are you gonna make your choice, chum? You could write them down on three pieces of paper and do a draw,” he suggested, leaning his arm on the back of the couch behind Dick, his fingers playing with the neck of your tshirt.

“Dad, I don’t need to write it down on some paper,” Dick sighed, a little annoyed. “You can do that on the internet now.”

“You can?” Bruce asked, surprised. Your husband was really tech savvy when it came down to work related to Batman, but silly, random stuff like a drawing roulette was not part of his internet knowledge.

You leaned your head on your left hand that was propped on the back of the couch and soothingly rubbed your round belly with the other. You watched with a soft smile Dick showing Bruce how to generate a random picking wheel to spin on the internet. Moments like these were the ones you cherished the most, domesticity wasn’t always the norm around here when you had two vigilantes living under your roof so you always tried to savour them whenever they happened.

The calmness in you was interrupted when you felt movement under your right hand.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, eyes round like saucers as you looked down at your bump and raised up the hem of your shirt to make sure what you felt was right.

“What?” Bruce immediately turned his attention to you. “What is it? Is something wrong? Are you alright?”

“I think the baby just kicked,”you said, raising your head to meet his eyes.

“The baby just kicked?” He repeated in disbelief.

You shook your head ‘yes’ just as you felt more movement. “The baby kicked again.”

Bruce rapidly stood up to sit by your side while Dick discarded his laptop before placing a hand on your belly and Jason left his book to climb on your husband’s lap to be closer to you. All had a hand on your stomach, staring at it expectantly, waiting for another kick.

“I don’t know if the baby’s gonna kick again,” you told them.

“Well that’s just not fair,” Jason whined.

“We just need to be patient,” Bruce said. “I’m sure the baby will do it again.”

And sure enough he was right. 

“Oh my God! I felt it! I felt the baby kick!” Dick exclaimed, though he kept the volume of his voice to a low level as if he would scare the baby away if he screamed.

“I wanna feel it too!” Jason cried.

“Here Jay, put your hand there,” you told your youngest as you gently grabbed his wrist and moved his hand to a different area of your belly, closer to Dick’s hand.

“Maybe if we keep talking, the baby will kick again,” Dick suggested.

“That’s true, babies can hear us from inside the mother’s belly,” Bruce agreed with him.

“They can?” Jason looked at you quizzically.

You chuckled at his confused face as you brushed his hair away from his forehead. “Yeah they can, it’s not completely soundproof in there,” you answered him.

“That’s why Dad is always talking to your belly?” Dick asked.

You fully laughed at this. “Yes, that’s why Dad talks to the belly. You can too if you wanna.”

“We can?” Dick perked up then leaned closer to your bump. “Hi baby, I’m Dick. Your big brother,” he said.

Jason also leaned forward. “And I’m Jason, I’m also gonna be your big brother.”

“Yeah but I’m the big big brother, I’m the oldest,” Dick argued.

“But I’m gonna be a big brother too!”

“Boys,” Bruce intervened. “No arguing around your mother. The baby will hear enough of that when it joins our lives, let it have its peace while it’s in the womb.”

A series of kicks started at that moment, making Dick and Jason gasp in surprise at the movements they felt under their hands. Bruce turned to you and the two of you shared a look full of love.

“That’s our baby,” he said to you, almost in a whisper, while Dick and Jason continued marvelling at the fact they could feel their sibling.

“That's our baby,” you repeated in confirmation. Nothing could've erased the smiles on both of your lips.

“I love you,” Bruce said against your forehead before leaving a soft kiss there and pulling away to share a short peck on the lips with you.

“Ew! Gross!” Jason interrupted your moment. Your sons weren’t the biggest fans of you and Bruce’s displays of affection for each other.

You giggled at the boys’ antics but still took a second to say “I love you” back to your husband.

“Someone should get Alfred so we can share this moment with him,” you suggested to the kids.

“Not it!”

“Not it!”

Jason and Dick quickly shouted, the former being the fastest to say it.

Dick groaned before he stood up from the couch and jogged out of the living room. The faster he would find Alfred, the faster he would be back next to you. “Alfred! The baby is kicking for the first time!” Dick called through the manor for your butler.

“He knows he doesn’t need to scream, right?” Bruce asked you. “Alfred can hear the boys break something all the way from the other side of the house.”

“Oh, let him be. He’s just very excited about the baby kicking,” you lightly reprimanded him with the corner of your mouth pulling up in a smirk.

You detached your gaze from your husband down to Jason who now had both of his small hands on your belly, his mouth in the shape of an ‘O’ and his eyes round with wonder in them.

“This is so cool,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“Looks like you’re gonna have some competition Jay, that baby sure is kicking a lot,” Bruce jokingly commented as the kicking didn’t stop.

You chuckled as you remembered all the times you’d stop by the gym room to find Jason relentlessly kicking at Bruce’s punching bag. For a six year old, he already had so much anger pent up inside his little body and it worried you sometimes. But ever since Bruce brought him back to the Manor, Jay had been getting better. The amount of vases thrown at the wall had drastically decreased since then, both to yours and Alfred’s reliefs, and he instead would run to the gym room and let out his anger on the punching bag when needed.

“I can’t wait to play fight with you,” Jason whispered loudly to your belly with a smile.

“No,” you immediately said.

“Best you stick to play fighting with Dick for a couple more years, buddy,” Bruce told your son.

Jason pouted. “But he's always pulling some acrobatic shit–”

“Language!” You scolded him.

“But Ma! Dad and Dick say it all the time!” Jason cried out defensively. “That’s not fair,” he retracted his hands from your belly to cross his arms over his chest.

“Well Dad and Dick, and you too apparently, will not be saying words like that around the baby,” you warned. “Capiche?”

“Capiche,” Jason mumbled.

“Capiche?” You repeated, now glaring at your husband.

“Hey, I’ve really been refraining on the bad words ever since Dick joined us,” Bruce argued but you raised your eyebrows in a way that said this wasn’t what you wanted to hear. “Capiche,” Bruce sighed out, knowing he wasn't going to win this fight.

“Master Dick, slow down a little. There’s no need for running,” you heard Alfred’s voice approaching down the hall.

“But Alfred, the baby is kicking!” Dick reiterated.

Your oldest ran in the living room, his hand firmly holding Alfred’s who tried to keep up behind him.

“I heard you the first ten times, Master Dick, the baby will still be there no matter how fast we get there,” Alfred argued.

“Yeah but it might stop kicking,” Dick said and the two sat on the couch to your unoccupied left.

“Don’t worry chum, the baby’s still kicking,” Bruce told him while looking fondly at your belly.

“Please Alfred, feel the baby,” you said to your butler with an inviting smile, grabbing his hand that rested on his knee and gently squeezing it. “We want you to be part of this moment too.”

Alfred’s hand joined the others on your bump and the old man smiled at you and Bruce as he felt the tiny bumps moving around under your skin. “This is sensational.”

“Isn’t it?” You smiled back at him, content to have everyone you wanted to share your baby’s first kicks with.

Your little family of five (soon-to-be six) remained on the couch until the baby grew tired and stopped kicking, much to Dick and Jason’s dismay. Alfred went back to his tasks, the boys to their laptop and book, and Bruce wrapped his arm around your shoulder as you cuddled next to him, watching over your children and just enjoying the normalcy of this Sunday afternoon.

Domesticity used to be rare at the Wayne Manor, but not anymore. And you, for one, were very happy about it.

[bunni-v1]

Hiiiiiii, I wanted to, first if all, say thank you for writing so perfectly for Shadow Milk like fr i never saw anyone describing him so well I'm gonna cry. And I wanted to ask ,if you are ok with it, would you be able to expand a little more on the nsfw part of the headcanons you wrote about him? If not it's totally okay ahaha and in any case have a good day :D

Yeah, I for sure can! I left it kinda vague on purpose, purely because there's a lot to him and it was already so long. I'll try and write some more based on the original ones, but they won't be all that long lol. Still I hope you enjoy what I make up for you...

Tw: NSFW; Mentions of choking, biting, bloodplay, roleplay, etc..; grammar errors

Info: Shadow Milk x Reader; Nsfw headcannons

-To start I want to reiterate that he's very much in it for seeing you squirm. There is something so sweet about seeing your body jump and jolt beneath his touch. It makes him feel better about the effect you have on him.

-It's almost like revenge in a way, getting back at you for making him so weak and soft for you. If he can make you melt and mold for him in the bedroom, it's almost like he can call it even.

-For Shadow Milk Cookie, sex is fun. It's less about an expression of love and more about chasing your highs. Letting loose together and seeing how you can get each other to react to different things.

-With that being said he's super willing to experiment with just about anything and everything. If there's a kink you want to try, he'll go for it. Why not? He's just as curious as you are, y'know!

-Seriously, nothing (except sharing) is off the table at all. Hardcore BDSM, roleplay, watersports, pain play, blood play, and anything else you can think of really.

-He's, unsurprisingly, fond of things involving pain such as choking, spanking, biting, etc.. Not because he likes seeing you in pain, (well... he does, but only in the bedroom and ONLY inflicted by him.) but because you make the cutest little noises for him! Oh! Your squeaks and squeals are simply divine!~

-Biting is the most common thing he'll pull out, usually, each session ends with a nice new bloodied mark. It's his mark of claim on you, of course. A warning to anyone out there that you're not to be touched and that he does bite.

-He loves seeing them in private more though, especially after the deed is done. Cleaning the jam from your dough and soothing the marks over with kisses is his favorite pastime.

-Not to mention the absolute trust you have in him. Knowing that he would never let anything really terrible happen, so you sit and bear the pain for him. You like the scars they leave behind too, and trust me, they do scar.

-Speaking of trust, though, choking is up there because of the amount of trust you must have in him. When his hands wrap around your delicate little throat, he's reminded so intimately that he could kill you at any second. You are so small and weak next to him, and you know that, but you chose to love him anyway.

-So as he squeezes the air out of your lungs and hears the wheezy moans leave with each thrust of his hips, he's reminded of just how lucky he is. Sick and twisted in a way, but he can't help but fall in love with you all over again when you grab at his wrists like you can actually do anything.

-He actually prefers you unrestrained, because he likes you better when you can fight him off. He thinks it's cute when you struggle so hard against him, only to lose and get your brains fucked out like always.

-Oh and he loves to fuck you dumb. Seeing you babble and whine for more is such an ego booster. His little doll all limp and useless under him, pretty little empty head filled with nothing but him. (And he can see those stupid endless thoughts too! How sweet you are!~)

-Now when he's bottoming it's a different story. He does not like being vulnerable at all, so being on the bottom and letting you have that control over him is a struggle.

-When he's topping he doesn't say no to much, but bottoming is a different story. Like, very different.

-He fights you when you want him to bottom, like really fights with you about it. He'll make it very hard for you to make him submit, poking and prodding at you with mean words and as much physical force as he can muster (without causing long-lasting damage to you.)

-He is impressed if you get him to behave, though. He knows he's stubborn, so your patience has got to be insanely high to get him to this point.

-Once he has finally given up his control, you have to be very sensitive and in tune with his needs. He's needy, and he's not really ashamed of that fact either.

-I can't imagine him liking being degraded or belittled, it makes his insecurities rage in his dough. Parts of him believe that the insults are truthful, that you really think that about him, and that thought makes him want to cry.

-He doesn't mind being smacked around, especially if he's misbehaving and fighting you, but he isn't a fan of being hit by you. A little smack here and there, sure, but don't hit him like you mean it. It'll fuck with his head a little too much, and I feel he'd have a hard time separating the action from your actual feelings.

-No, he's quite a princess, actually. He likes being pampered and treated like a king. Gentle touches, loving words, and soft sentiments are what he needs from you. He wants to feel loved and adored by you, because he worries that you might not feel the same at times.

-When he bottoms is when sex is more about love than fun. It's the only chance you get to care for him, and the only time you see him willingly showing his softer and weaker side. You have to be gentle with him, or else he won't let you see that side of him again.

-Now I didn't really go into anatomy much when I was making my initial post, but this guy is wild. He can change his physical appearance at will, which means he can have a lot of fun so to say.

-I don't think he has much down there unless he wants to, and when he does want to let me tell you. It's not a penis. I mean, it is, but it doesn't look like one. It's a tentacle, a blue and white striped tentacle that gets thicker the closer you get to the base.

-He controls how it moves (most of the time), and can jerk you off with it or reach deep inside you to places you didn't know would feel so good. He rubs at your most sensitive spots with ease, torturing you with ease.

-He can also use his hair as tentacles as well, and often uses it to restrain you and play with you while his dick is inside. He prefers using his hair as a restraint than anything else because he can really feel you struggle that way.

-His cum is very thick, almost jelly-like, and a pretty light blue. It tastes like overly sweet blueberries. It's hard to swallow, but if you make the effort he'll be so very happy with you.

-He likes to cum just about anywhere, though. Your tummy seems to be his favorite, only because he likes it when you play with it after the fact. Finds it so cute when you can't help but worsen the mess.

-Oh and the last thing, which I feel is very important, he is big. And I don't mean like his dick is big, no. Shadow Milk Cookie is large, like literally ten times your size.

-Normally he takes a more... approachable form around you when he can help it, but... if you want to he would be happy to have his way with you at his full stature.

-You'd be sososososooooo easy to play with when he's so big, he'd love seeing his little dolly melt in the palms of his hands.

[augustjoy]

Come bother me, baby.

Based on the following post: Inspo  you are the bane of young Aaron's existence - back when he was just an agent under Gideon and Rossi. A pain in his ass…so when you transfer to avoid your feelings for him, he begs you to come back. Okay listen, I know that Hotch didn’t really work under Rossi in the beginning, as Rossi had already left…but we’re all gonna pretend for the sake of this fic. Also – Haley just never existed in this, and that’s ok.

Aaron Hotchner x BAU! Fem Reader

Fluff

Word count: 4164

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, female reader, she/her pronouns, age gap (Hotch is 28 and reader is 25), some explicit language, canon typical violence, mentions of case details, reader has experienced the loss of her parents, mention of holidays, mention of food/eating. Mention of reader being a mom, inaccurate timelines, let me know if I missed anything!!!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

July 1993

The year was 1993, Jason Gideon and David Rossi were just granted permission to hire two agents to expand the team. They agreed that they would each pick an agent, that way there’d be no room to argue. They interviewed a total of 17 potential candidates, 13 of those were interviewed by Rossi and the other 4 by Gideon.

Aaron Hotchner had been the 7th file in Rossi’s stack, it was an impressive resume, one that was filled with cases he’d worked as a prosecutor, and then a number of cases he’d worked as a profiler in the Seattle Field office. He now was here in Quantico, Virginia, hoping to gain a spot on the BAU. To Rossi, Aaron had stood out amongst the others, he’d sat through all 13 interviews, and nobody could match the passion for this position like Aaron had. It had been an easy choice.

You had been the 2nd file in Gedeon’s stack, and honestly he’d been let down by his first candidate…so when you walked in, more than qualified for this position, he excused the other two candidates.  He didn’t feel the need to interview them, his gut told him you were the right choice. Your file had been padded with your numerous degrees varying from bachelor's degrees in psychology and criminology, to a master’s degree in forensic psychology, ending with a PhD in psychology. For the last year you’d been working in the Phoenix field office as a profiler. And while you didn’t have a ton of field experience, Gideon had been thoroughly impressed with your tenacity and overall enthusiasm for the profession.  

--

September 1993

Things had started off okay…mostly. Aaron definitely treated you like you were a child, though you were only three years younger than him. While you’d spent a lot of time expanding your knowledge of this field, Aaron had worked as a prosecutor immediately after his completion of law school. You weren’t sure why he thought he was so much better than you…you were a doctor after all.

It had started in the most dismissive way possible. You’d accidentally spilled your coffee at the round table, it had spread fast, covering his copy of the latest case file. You apologized immediately, offered him your copy while you went to print another. He shook his head at you, muttering something along the lines of you being young and unprofessional.

You had thought about going to Gideon to complain but ultimately decided against it. It would only make him see you as more of a child. So, you’d worked your ass off to prove yourself, you needed to show him that you were an asset to the BAU and not a liability.

--

May 1994

���I think this unsub is female.” You stated confidently.

“Are you insane?” Aaron scoffed.

“Before you completely dismiss me Hotch, hear me out.”

“Don’t call me that.” He hissed.

You had to physically wipe the smirk from your face before explaining your theory to the team. You’d pointed out how meticulous everything had been, how much care had gone into the murders and the disposals.

“If we really break everything down, it’s all done with so much care. The bodies haven’t just been dumped, they’ve been cleaned, redressed, and neatly placed in beautiful locations. The field of flowers, the hillside, by the art installation at the park.” You’d gestured to the photos pinned on the corkboard.

Looking around you could see the impressed look Gideon was wearing, it was bordering smug as he turned his gaze over to Rossi with a nod. Rossi couldn’t do anything other than shrug – you’d made a good point, who was he to question your expertise. But then there was Aaron…he was looking around in disbelief, nobody was even going to question it?

Aaron was pissed that you had been right. Three days after that briefing, you taken Helena Murphy into custody. She had lost her siblings in a car accident when she was in her teens, and a recent fender bender had been her trigger. She’d been taking the lives of young people who had resembled her siblings and laid them to rest somewhere beautiful…unlike the highway guardrail that had ultimately taken her family from her all those years ago.

Gideon and Rossi both gave you kudos for narrowing down the profile the way you had. The police officers at the Milwaukee PD had congratulated you and subsequently thanked you for your hard work. Aaron wouldn’t even look at you.

Needless to say, the flight home was tense.

--

August 1994

“Ugh it is soooo hot!” You whined, fanning yourself with a loose manila folder.

“Would you stop that?” Aaron asked.

“Stop what?” You feigned innocence.

“Bothering me! Your fanning is blowing all my papers around, just cut it out.” He huffed.

“Sure, thing Hotch.” You offered a sickly-sweet smile.

“Don’t call me that!” He shook his head and continued his report.

You stood from your desk and removed your blazer, showing off the fitted tank top you’d been wearing underneath. You made your way up to the kitchenette to retrieve some ice water and the ice pack from your lunchbox. At this point, you’d do anything to cool off.

You sat back down at your desk, sipping the water and crunching on the ice, while shifting the icepack from your chest to your neck. Aaron was so distracted by your constant moving that he had to speak up again. But as his gaze landed on you, he was rendered speechless…only for a moment, but it was enough time for him to notice the way the condensation from the icepack had dripped down your chest and when you slid it back to your neck, he could see the effect the could had on your breasts. His throat went dry.

“Stop messing around, it’s distracting.” He ordered.

“You’re no fun Hotch.”

“Would you just stop bothering me? You’re doing it on purpose now.” He sighed.

“Oh, fine.” You conceded.

--

November 1994

You made your way into the FBI building, hanging on one arm is your go bag, packed and ready to go. On the other arm is your purse, struggling to stay up on your shoulder as you held onto a basket filled with baked goods.

“Happy Holidays Jim!” You greeted, handing him a loaf of pumpkin bread.

“Thanks doll, you too! Did you get called in?” Jim, the head of security, asked.

“No, not yet anyway. I just figured I’d stop by.” You shrugged.

“You weren’t celebrating?” He questioned.

“Oh, um no, not this year.”

“Well doll, thanks for the pumpkin bread. Happy thanksgiving.” Jim smiled.

You made your way around, passing out different backed goods to people you saw every day, Maureen the receptionist, Mike from IT, and Sandra who was the director’s assistant. You’d even gone as far as bringing something for the BAU team members in the event that you did get called in.

Speaking of…

Gideon rushed into the bullpen of the sixth floor, in his haste he nearly missed the slight step down into the main section of the floor where your and Aaron’s desks sat. He was ferociously pressing the buttons on his pager – surely sending a page to the team informing them of the newest case.

Your suspicions were confirmed when yours beeped from your desk, drawing yours and Gideon’s attention.

“Jesus, I didn’t realize you were here. What are you doing here already?” Gideon asked.

“No reason to celebrate…I thought I could make myself useful here.” You shrugged and offered Gideon a container of gingersnaps.

“Thanks kid. Can you go get the files from Anderson?” Gideon requested.

“Of course, sir.”

Aaron arrived next; shock evident on his face when he saw you coming back from retrieving the files. He was about to make a snarky comment about you being here so early when Rossi came in behind him and clapped him on the shoulder.

--

The four of you were on the plane heading to Oklahoma, you were seated next to Gideon, going over the file, passing theories back and forth. Aaron was sat next to Rossi, stewing in a feeling the bordered annoyance.

“I can feel the steam blowing out of your ears.” Rossi teased.

“Sorry I just don’t get it…she got there so fast. She just – she just bothers me.” Aaron huffed.

“She was already there kid, she was at the BAU before Gideon even got there, he told me.” Rossi explained.

“What do you mean she was already there? Why would she have been at the office already?”

“I assume to keep herself busy. She lost her parents when she was in college, so she doesn’t really have anyone to celebrate the holidays with. She brought everyone at the office treats.” Rossi smiled, popping another bite of his banana nut muffin into his mouth.

“I didn’t know. That’s uh-that’s…” Aaron didn’t quite know what to say.

“Check your bag Hotch.” Rossi smiled and went back to his file.

Placed neatly in the outer pocket of Aaron’s bag was a cellophane bag containing snickerdoodles, his favorite. A red ribbon tied the bag closed and attached to it was a small note…

Sorry for bothering you all the time. Hopefully these can make up for a little bit of it.

Aaron took a bit of one of the cookies., rolling his eyes because, of course, they were perfect. He couldn’t help but feel bothered by your inability to be bad at something.

--

February 1995

You hated valentine’s day, it had always been a sore spot, all your friends swooning over the overpriced chocolate and roses that their boyfriends would get them. Not you though, you hadn’t received a valentine since freshman year of high school when Mathew Smith taped a rose to your locker. Matt had been nice and all, but he was looking for something…unserious.

You got yourself dressed and dragged yourself to the BAU. Everyone was so chipper as you entered the building, greeting you…but you met the majority of them with a scowl. Stepping off the elevator and going over to your desk, surprise overcoming you as you’re met with peonies and a pack of razzles. You moved them around, trying to find the note, coming across a yellow sticky note.

I thought these could be repayment for the pens you got me for Christmas.    -Hotch

You smiled at the signature, he’d hated when you called him Hotch, you’d been the first to do so and he was annoyed at how unprofessional it had initially seemed, he’d tell you not to call him that and claim you bothered him on purpose, but as Rossi and Gideon joined in with the nickname, he slowly grew to like you…it!

Aaron sat at his desk, plopping into his chair with a sigh. Your gaze lifted to meet his, a timid smile gracing your features.

“Hotch”

“Don’t bother me today.”

“Thank you.” You smiled.

“Don’t mention it.”

--

May 1995

May and June had become your least favorite months of the year. After losing your parents, you thought Christmas would be hard, and it was…but you’d found friends in school who would celebrate with you.

It was Mother’s Day and Father’s Day that killed you. People didn’t invite their orphaned friend over to celebrate those holidays with their family because…well because that’s weird.

These two months brought with them the painful reminder that your parents were gone.

Truthfully, you’d been glad to get the page letting you know that a case came in, it would have been a welcomed distraction…if it hadn’t been in your hometown.

Aaron could see how tense you were. He was trying to profile you, figure out what had you so worked up. He knew this time of year had to be difficult for you, seeing as Rossi told him you lost your mom. But he could tell there was something deeper, rooted within you.

It took some time, but after sitting back and observing, he figured it out. A few different officers knew you by name and were on a first-name basis with you. You’d been extremely familiar with the layout of the city, not needing directions to the location you’d gone to earlier. This must be your hometown.

--

“Alright guys, nice job today. So, we are flying out first thing tomorrow. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” Rossi said.

You were slow to pack up, gathering your things, chatting with a few of the officers before heading out of the precinct. You didn’t really know what to do, you didn’t want to go back to the hotel, but you also didn’t want to go around town. You had too many memories here, it was too hard to go around and picture all the times you had with your parents around here.

“Hey, you want to go for a drive with me?” Aaron asked

You couldn’t even mask the shock as it etched its way across your features.

“Sure.”

At first you had no idea where Aaron was heading, the drive feeling unfamiliar…but then all at once you’d figured it out. He was driving to Blue Grove Cemetery.

“What the hell are you doing? Why are we here?” You questioned, anxiety lacing your words.

“Look, I can’t imagine how hard it must be to go through May and June, now that they’re gone. I thought it might be nice for you to see them before we head back tomorrow.” Aaron explained.

So many feelings were running through you. Initially anger, why would he blindside you like this. But then that morphed into panic, you didn’t want Hotch to see this side of you, the weak and vulnerable side. But lastly was this weird warmth…it was slow moving like molasses, sticking to every part of your body.

--

Aaron parked and let you control the pace. He waited to move until you reached for the handle on the door, slowly exiting the SUV. You stood there, still, unmoving, unsure if you could do this. Aaron grabbed a bag out of the back seat before walking around to meet you where you stood.

“I’m sorry, I – I don’t…”

“Hey,” Aaron placed his hand on your shoulder gently. “Take your time.”

You nodded at him gratefully.

Eventually you began to move, leading Aaron through the cemetery. You’d passed headstone after headstone until you came to a stop at their gravesite, resting just below a beautiful tree, offering just enough shade to allow you respite from the heat.  

Aaron laid out a small blanket, letting you sit first, hesitating for a beat.

“You can sit…please.” You asked, more than told.

Aaron sat next to you silently. He pulled the bag in front of the two of you, removing its contents, a sandwich cut in half, a bag of kettle chips (your favorite) and lastly two diet cokes. As you watched him, you smiled, you may bother him once in a while…okay all the time…but he cared. Whether he’d admit it or not.

The two of you sat there, eating, enjoying the cool breeze that the afternoon offered. After some time had passed, you found yourself telling Aaron about your parents. How your mom loved to bake, and she would tell you that food brought people together. You told him how your dad did everything himself, he never called in a specialist for everything.

Aaron chimed in with how you’d clearly taken after them and it made you an incredible profiler…and there it was again, that warm feeling.

You’d recognized it… it was the same feeling that bloomed within you on valentine’s day, and before that, on Christmas. You’d bought hotch these really fancy fountain pens he’d mentioned in passing and he got you a coat, a nice warm one, since you didn’t seem to own one.

This warm, sticky, sweet feeling was rearing its ugly head…and you were pretty sure it was called love.

--

July 1995

That warm feeling had burrowed its way deep into your core and you were freaking out. You’d been doing everything you could to act normal around Hotch, you were worried you’d been failing miserably.

“I think your agent has a crush on my agent…” Rossi said to Gideon, peaking out the window of his office.

“That’s interesting, because I am pretty sure your agent has feelings for my agent.” Gideon challenged.

“Do you think they’ll figure it out?”

“Not any time soon.”

--

You flicked a paper football over your screen onto Hotch’s desk. He glanced up at you, only his gaze didn’t hold its usual annoyance, instead there was something that mirrored amusement written there.

“Are you trying to bother me some more?” Aaron asked.

“Um, yes. That’s my job; to bother you…didn’t you get the memo?” You teased.

“I must have missed that one.” He let out a breathy chuckle.

You went back to your report, working diligently. All of two minutes passed before the paper football knocked against your hand as it landed on your desk. You laughed and shook your head gently, there was that stupid feeling again.

--

October 1995

Your knuckles rapped gently against Gideon’s office door. You were shaking, your stomach twisted at the thought of what you were about to do. It had taken you a little while to figure out the best option…knowing that it wouldn’t be professional to continue working with Hotch with these feelings you had for him.

You’d looked at all the openings here at Quantico, trying to figure out which position would best suit you. Ultimately, counterterrorism was looking for someone with a background in psychology, so it just made sense. Which brings you to now, you were about to go into Gideon’s office and request the transfer.

“Come in.”

“Hey Gideon, I uh…I need to talk to you about something.” You stumbled a bit.

“Go ahead.” He gestured to the chair opposite him.

You sat, taking a steadying breath. “I’m requesting a transfer. To counterterrorism.”

“No.”

“Gideon, you-”

“No.” He began. “I am not going to sign a transfer request for you, especially not to counterterrorism, you have exceptional skills, and we need them here.”

“Gideon, I have to transfer. I feel – I have…” You trailed off as your eyes found Aaron beyond the window in the bullpen. “I can’t work with him, not when I feel like this.”

Gideon took a deep breath, looking at you and taking in the longing gaze you wore. He didn’t fully understand what thoughts were running through your head, but if this is what you felt you needed to do, he wasn’t going to stop you. You were a very strong and capable agent…he trusted your judgement.

“How much longer do we have you here at the BAU?” He asked waving for you to hand him the paper.

“Two weeks.” You sighed. “I’m sorry Gideon.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re smart and you need to do what is best for you.”

--

November 1995

“Alright guys we have a case, round table in five.” Rossi called out into the bullpen.

You gathered your things, knowing you wouldn’t be travelling with them for this case. You figured you’d sit through the round table, offer a few theories and then let them go on their way.  Aaron watched you slowly grabbing a legal pad and your signature pink pen, he chuckled grabbing his own paper and one of the fountain pens from the set you bought him.

“Before we begin I just want to say that I am so proud of how you have grown and flourished with this team, and while it is a huge loss for the BAU, counterterrorism is lucky to have you.” Gideon stated, looking at you.

“What? You-you’re transferring?” Aaron asked incredulously.

“Yes.”

“When…when are you leaving?” He asked.

“Today is my last day.” Your gaze shifted to your lap.

“We can talk about this later, let’s go over the facts of the case.” Gideon demanded.

Through the entire briefing Aaron’s eyes were burning into you. He couldn’t focus on the fact of this case because he was completely hung up on the fact that yours wouldn’t be the face across from him anymore…you weren’t going to be there to flick paper footballs at him, or to hum songs all day, to crunch annoyingly on baby carrots. Who was going to bother him if you were gone?

After you finished going over the case, you couldn’t help the sting behind your eyes, slowly realizing that this was it, your time at the BAU was done. But you held your head up high and steeled yourself. You offered Gideon a handshake, Rossi pulled you into a tight hug, and Aaron…well he brushed by you with a curt nod.

--

Aaron was miserable throughout the entirety of the two weeks they were away on this case. He was moping, and it wasn’t going unnoticed. Rossi and Gideon shared a knowing look, thankful that he was finally figuring it out.

They hadn’t quite expected it to take him so long to do something about it.

--

December 1995

The bullpen was so quiet without you. Aaron felt uneasy; he was the only one in the center of the floor now that you were gone. His file going long forgotten as he sat back and thought about things for a bit…

When he first saw you, you’d entered the elevator at the same time for your interviews, you’d offered a quiet thank to him for holding the elevator for you and he couldn’t deny then how cute you were. But then you’d both been hired on as profilers and he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to think that anymore, so he shoved the feeling down.

Then you spilled your coffee all over the table, effectively ruining his file, but you’d cursed, burning your hand as you quickly tried to clean it up. He wanted nothing more than to hold you and tell you it would be okay, so he fled.

It was so many things after that, your intelligence and the passion you had for profiling. Your baking, always noting people’s favorites and bringing them sweets, just to see them smile. The way you listened, remembering something he’d brought up in passing and gone out of your way to order his favorite pens.

Oh shit. He was in love with you. He’d fallen in love with you and had been too stupid to realize it.

--

Aaron moved with a purpose, rushing through the FBI building, making his way up the two flights of stairs it took to get to counterterrorism. He burst through the door, drawing attention to himself, his eyes frantically scanning the room in search of you.

He moved forward, noticing you across the room. He reached you in a few long strides, stopping just before you.

“Hotch…what are you doing here?” You looked around, blushing profusely.

“Sweetheart, you need to come back to the BAU.”

“I can’t…Aaron I-”

“I know that I have given you no reason to believe this, but I love you sweetheart. I need you to come back to the BAU, come back and bother me, baby.”

“No.” You shook your head in disbelief.

“Well yes.”

“Aaron, no.”

“Yes! Come bother me, baby. Bother me for the rest of my life.” Aaron begged. His hands reaching forward to cup your face.

“Okay” You gasped.

Aaron pulled you into a kiss, the agents surrounding you erupting in cheers for the both of you.

--

Bonus scene – May 2016

“Happy Mother’s Day sweetheart.”

“Happy Mother's Day mom!”

“Thank you guys!” You smiled, feeling nothing but joy looking to those who surrounded you.

Before you was your incredible husband and your three children, two sons and a daughter. They had gotten up early to make breakfast for you before they headed off to school. There had been a bouquet of peonies, cards, and a pack of razzles.

“Jack, are you okay to get Zoey to school today? We got called in pretty early.” You asked.

“Yeah mom! I have practice though, so Jason and Zoey might have to hang out a while.”

“Don’t worry about that bud, Will offered to pick them up when he picks up Michael.” Aaron patted Jack on the shoulder.

“Alright kids, we will see you later, be safe and please text me when you get to school!” You called, heading out the door with Aaron hot on your tail.

--

Aaron and you made your way into the BAU hand-in-hand. You glanced around at this team you built together, and you couldn’t be happier. Aaron made his way toward his office, noticing you’d stopped and before he could say anything, Dave clapped him on the back.

“Leave her be. She’s admiring this family you’ve built together.”

You looked over to where Aaron and Dave stood, offering a bright smile. You then made your way down to the floor, greeting Emily, JJ, Derek, Spencer and Penelope.

Taglist: @bernelflo@pastelpinkflowerlife@just-moondust

[infiniteglitterfall]

my all-time favorite Palestinian activist

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A post shared by Hamza Howidy (@hamzahowidyy)

"I think [reaching Greece in an overcrowded boat no one knew how to drive] was one of the happiest moments in my life, because I survived. And I stayed in Greece -- and I was supposed to stay there to apply for my asylum and get my life there.

"Unfortunately, with the atrocities of October the 7th and my activism, the threats I received when I was in Greece by some radical pro-Palestinian folks, I decided to leave.

"And based on a friend's recommendation, I decided to go to Germany because it's somehow considered safer than the other European countries and there is somehow enough space for a free speech here."

"Voicing dissent [in Gaza] was not an option. Hamas has a no tolerance policy for criticism or objections to any of its policies. Even discussion is forbidden.

"Any journalist who objects or criticizes a policy is suspended and investigated. Demonstrations are strictly prohibited. Freedom of speech in Gaza is a fantasy.

"The dirtiest tool Hamas uses to silence citizens is character assassination through online campaigns accusing dissenters of working for hostile bodies or committing immoral acts.

"Hamas also routinely breaks into the homes of people deemed disloyal and humiliates them in front of their family and neighbors.

"...A huge social gap opened between the wealthy elite who belong to Hamas and the rest of the population who were increasingly living in driving poverty. Public sector jobs were limited to Hamas members, and taxes were increasing on necessities day by day, even as the cost of living skyrocketed.

"Many of us could no longer bear it. I was one of them.

"Though we knew dissenters were subject to imprisonment, torture, and even murder, in 2019, a few of us decided to join forces and form a protest to voice our opposition to Hamas. We called it the 'We Want to Live' demonstration.

"Our demonstration elicited an extreme reaction by Hamas. They violently cracked down on the protests and we were all arrested.

"I will never forget my first day in jail—walking up the steps listening to screams of my colleagues, most of them fellow students, who had been arrested before me. I was held under arrest for 21 days and subjected to various types of torture. I was beaten with batons and sprayed with cold water in the late winter night hours.

"My friends didn't fare much better. A Christian friend was in the next cell and I could hear them screaming at him, 'You are a Christian and you don't like the situation? Then go to another country!'

"After we were released, most of those who participated in the demonstrations emigrated away from Gaza. There was no hope for any change in the current situation. We suffered ongoing harassment by Hamas members.

"Some died trying to leave, like Tamer Al-Sultan, a pharmacist whose crime was asking for a reconciliation between Hamas and Fatah. [The political party of the Palestinian president, which Hamas violently kicked out of Gaza in a 2007 coup.]

"People's living conditions got worse. The wealth gap expanded even further. We protested again in 2023 and were crushed in the same manner as in 2019.

"I was arrested again by Hamas last year and held for 14 days, this time in a small cell with no bed, no window, and barely enough space to sit down. I was released on bail on the condition that I not take part in any further demonstrations.

"I still expressed my opinion occasionally on social media, but the arrest warrants after each post and the continuous threats from Hamas members and accusations of treason made me lose hope that I could make any kind of change.

"I left Gaza in August [2023] to seek a better future for myself and my family."

"I know firsthand that when ordinary Gazans like myself protested against Hamas, there was no media attention.

"No human rights organizations demanded the release of prisoners held for months in Hamas prisons, not to mention those who were tortured by Hamas, and even killed by Hamas—like Issam Al-Saaffein, who was killed under torture in Hamas's jails.

"This trend has continued during the present war. Since October 7, hundreds of Gazans have been killed by Hamas' failing rockets. Hamas has confiscated the food, fuel, and medicine sent to Gaza, and they did not stop here.

"13-year-old Ahmad Breka was shot in the head by Hamas in Rafah while attempting to collect humanitarian aid. Others were fortunate because they were merely shot in the legs by Hamas while attempting to grab humanitarian goods that Hamas stole and kept in their facilities.

"These inhumane acts, along with the agony that Gazans have undergone since October, prompted many to demonstrate anew during this war. They demonstrated in Khan-Younis in front of Yahya Sinwar's house; others protested in the north, asking that Hamas free the captives and cease the war.

"They received the same response from Hamas that I did: They were fired upon.

"And once again, the global media largely overlooked these crimes.

"Daring to take some food in the midst of a war or protesting Hamas isn't the only activity Hamas has persecuted us Gazans for; attempting to play any part of delivering this aid to those in need, or even considering playing any role the day after the war, is enough to get anybody the death penalty from Hamas.

"That's what happened to the Abu-Amro tribe leader, along with two members of his tribe who were killed by Hamas militants a few days ago.

"A couple of months ago, they beheaded the head of a clan leader in the north of Gaza and issued a statement on social media: 'We murdered him, and we will do so to anyone who stands against us and cooperates with Israel.'

"Others who publicly criticized Hamas during the war were reported missing."

[bearforcecaptions]

Alex and Bryan had always been close, the kind of friends who made a pact over soda and pizza to turn things around, to finally hit the gym and build some muscle. They’d been nerdy, skinny guys their whole lives, and they felt awkward and out of place as they stumbled into the gym’s locker room after their first workout, faces flushed and sore from the exercises. Both of them wore cheap workout clothes they’d picked up from Walmart just that morning — faded T-shirts that hung loosely on their frames and ill-fitting, generic sneakers.

“Dude, my arms feel like noodles,” Alex groaned, shaking out his skinny limbs as he looked at Bryan.

“Right? I think I pulled something just trying to lift those dumbbells,” Bryan chuckled, but his laughter quickly turned into a grimace as he rubbed his shoulder.

Their voices echoed in the empty locker room, and the fluorescent lights flickered slightly as if the room were stretching itself, adjusting to accommodate these two new, inexperienced bodies. They walked over to the sink, looking at themselves in the mirror, barely recognizing the sweaty, tired faces staring back at them.

But then, almost imperceptibly, something started to shift. Alex leaned closer to the mirror, and he noticed his reflection looked… different. Just a little. His face seemed somehow sharper, his cheekbones a bit more defined.

“Hey… do I look weird to you?” he asked, glancing at Bryan.

Bryan squinted at him. “Maybe? Or maybe I’m just so tired everything’s blurry.” But then he stopped, staring as Alex’s T-shirt started to tighten around his chest, like it was shrinking or his chest was expanding. He looked down at his own shirt and noticed the same thing happening. The fabric stretched and then almost melted away, like it was dissolving into thin air.

Underneath, their chests were broadening, muscles slowly forming in places they’d never had them before. Alex stared, mesmerized, as his pecs seemed to inflate, one solid inch at a time, swelling until they were firm and full. He was startled to see a dark line beginning to etch itself over his right pec, the beginnings of a tattoo forming. Bryan looked over, his eyes widening as he saw the same tattoo mirrored on his own left pec.

“You’ve got the same one!” Bryan pointed, his voice trembling slightly, as he stared down at his own chest​. Both of them were transfixed, watching the tattoos slowly darken, bold lines taking shape, though Alex’s tattoo was slightly clearer and etched on the opposite side of his chest from Bryan’s. Their bare chests shone under the locker room’s bright lights, and it felt almost surreal, as though they were watching themselves transform from afar.

As their chests solidified, so did their arms. Alex flexed instinctively, watching with wide eyes as his biceps bulged out, the veins snaking along the surface like thick cords. Bryan mirrored him, mimicking the same pose, even though he wasn’t sure why he was doing it. Their shoulders broadened, traps rising like hills beneath their skin, framing thick, muscular necks that hadn’t been there moments ago.

The cheap Walmart sneakers they wore started to warp, reshaping into sturdy gym shoes, and they felt a strange tickle as white athletic socks rolled up around their ankles. Their old, ill-fitting shorts slowly lengthened and changed texture, becoming soft gray sweatpants that clung to their powerful, thickened legs.

Bryan felt a sudden pressure on his head, and reaching up, he realized he was now wearing a black baseball cap. He turned to Alex, who was wearing the same cap, the brim low over his eyes, shading his gaze in a way that felt… different. He felt his thoughts slow, like they were softening, melting into something simpler. He wanted to look good, feel strong, and—

“Yo, dude, check it out,” Alex said, his voice deepening, each word sounding slower, less articulate.

Bryan grinned back at him, an identical expression on his face, as his mind began to echo Alex’s excitement. They stared at each other, an odd tension hanging between them as their minds dulled, syncing up, their personalities flattening into something singular, something almost blank.

At some point, Bryan found himself staring at Alex, watching him flex. His own arms lifted in the same way, though he wasn’t sure why he was doing it. He felt a strange compulsion, a need to mirror Alex’s actions, to match him move for move. As he flexed, his mouth moved of its own accord, saying the same thing Alex was saying, their voices blending into one deeper, dumber tone.

“Lookin’ good, bro,” they said in unison, their gazes fixed on each other, and yet somehow, only on their own reflections.

The locker room seemed to shift, as if walls were moving subtly, altering to create the illusion that there was a mirror between them. Bryan blinked, realizing he was standing opposite Alex, but his own reflection now felt hazy, as though he was losing himself in it, becoming less real, less independent. The only thing he could think was how good it felt to flex, to see his thick muscles rippling beneath his skin.

With each passing moment, Bryan’s sense of self faded further, and he became more of an image, a reflection. He could feel his mind flattening into a mere echo, a shadow of Alex’s thoughts, his individuality dissolving as he mimicked Alex’s every action and word. Soon, there was only one real man left in the room, looking into the mirror.

“Lookin’ huge, bro,” Alex grinned, his voice a low, slow rumble.

And Bryan, now only a reflection, grinned back, saying the same words at the exact same time, a perfect mimic. The tattoo on his pec was a mere shadow, reversed and less distinct, as if to signify he was nothing more than Alex’s reflection. With one final flex, Alex turned to leave, leaving the locker room behind, and the reflection vanished, leaving nothing but an empty mirror.

[axeeglitter]

Melorius's shop: Thank you for your service

Adam stepped into the small, dimly lit Halloween shop without a clue that tonight would be anything but normal. He hesitated for a long time before deciding to go the office party. At 42, he really was finding those kinds of events more and more boring. He was late to get a costume, and with the Halloween party in just a few hours, he didn’t want to show up empty-handed, even more because Nathalie, his coworker he had kind of a crush on since she was hired a couple of months ago, would be here. Adam looked all day long but couldn’t find anything he liked or at his size. The last place on the block he didn’t check was this weird little hole-in-the-wall shop, a place he wouldn’t normally visit. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

As he walked in, the smell of old leather and musty costumes filled the air. Racks of outlandish outfits surrounded him, superheroes, clowns, knights, cowboys, Indians but none of them felt right. He wasn’t trying to win a costume contest. He just wanted something easy, fun, and simple that might bring him some points with Nathalie.

"Looking for something special?" came a smooth voice from behind the counter.

Adam turned to see an older man standing there, wearing a sharp suit that didn’t fit the vibe of the place at all. His eyes gleamed with a strange intensity, his thin lips curling into a grin that sent a shiver down Adam’s spine.

“Uh, yeah,” Adam replied, “Just something for a party. Nothing too flashy.”

The man, whose nametag read Mister Melorius, gave a knowing nod. "I think I’ve got just the thing for you." Without waiting for Adam to respond, he disappeared behind a curtain and came back holding a dark, pressed military uniform. Adam was about to say no thanks when a shimmer of the dogtag caught his attention on the uniform. He thought for a second and as a reflex, his hands reached for the costume. Maybe it could work he started to think.

"Try it on," Melorius said, handing it over with a strangely eager smile.

Adam nodded and took the uniform, heading into the changing room. It felt… strange in his hands. Light but sturdy, with a coolness to the fabric. As soon as he touched it, something seemed to tug at him, a pull he couldn’t explain.

He quickly undressed, neatly folding his 3 pieces royal blue costume and red tie, then slid the uniform over his body. The trousers clung to his legs perfectly, and when he zipped up the jacket, it felt as if it had been tailored specifically for him. But just as he finished adjusting the collar, a sudden warmth spread through him, like someone had flipped a switch inside his body.

“Whoa…” he whispered, looking in the mirror to see his reflection only to be met with weird sensations invading his lower half.

His breath hitched as a deep, pulsing warmth gathered in his chest and spread outwards. He watched, wide-eyed, as his reflection began to change. His shoulders, narrow and unremarkable, slowly began to broaden. Muscles thickened beneath his skin, his traps rising higher, giving him a solid, athletic look, he never had. His biceps bulged, veins snaking under the skin as they expanded, stretching the sleeves of the uniform.

Adam’s arms swelled as they filled with muscle, his forearms thickening to match. His fingers, once slim and soft, grew thicker and calloused as if he’d been doing pull-ups and handling weapons for years. He tried to flex his hand, but the strength in his grip now felt foreign, almost as if he didn’t recognize his own power.

His chest pushed out next. He gasped, watching as his pecs thickened, rising up under the fabric of the uniform. Each breath he took made his pecs swell even more, the fabric pressing tight against them. He ran a hand over his chest, feeling the firm slabs of muscle there, and while his body was filling out with youthful strength, no chest hair sprouted. Instead, there was just a faint happy trail starting beneath his belly button, leading down into his waistband.

But it wasn’t just his chest. His abs rippled underneath the uniform, once undefined but now clear and sharp as if carved from stone. Each muscle tightened, becoming more pronounced, a solid six-pack replacing the soft stomach he’d grown used to over the years.

"What's happening?!" Adam muttered; his voice slightly higher than before. He tried to tug at the collar, but his hands were trembling. He watched his legs next, his thighs, once lean, ballooned with muscle, stretching the fabric of the pants until they hugged every powerful curve. His calves followed, thickening with each passing second, as if he had spent years running drills and hiking with heavy gear.

Adam felt a strange tightness in his groin. His cock, which had been a respectable 5.5 inches before, began to throb. He looked down, his heart pounding as he watched it grow harder in his pants. But instead of stopping, it kept swelling. The pressure inside his trousers grew unbearable as his cock thickened, stretching longer, now standing at a solid 9 inches when fully erect. His balls, too, grew heavier, tugging down into the tight space of his trousers. The weight of them sent an odd thrill up his spine.

He felt every change in vivid detail, the growing weight between his legs pulling more of his attention as his balls swelled, stretching the skin tight. It wasn’t just physical, his mind seemed to grow fuzzy as well. He clutched his head, trying to hold onto who he was, but each throb in his nuts seemed to drain away another part of his mind, like his very memories were slipping away.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he groaned, trying to focus on his reflection only to realize his face starting to change, to regress. In front of him, his hair started to grow back and took a light brown color, his skin tighten on his bones and muscles and his eyes cleaned of any sight disease..

The muscles in his back stretched next, widening, growing strong as if molded for carrying heavy packs. His spine straightened, the tightness there easing as his posture improved, making him stand taller. His entire frame had become lean but muscular, the body of someone fresh out of boot camp. His feet felt cramped as they grew too, filling out and pushing against the leather of his enw combat boots.

The reflection staring back at him was unrecognizable now, his youthful face smooth and sharp, his jawline chiseled. He was 19 again, with the fresh vigor of someone who had just graduated from military school. His eyes gleamed with a new confidence, the innocence of his late twenties long drained away.

Adam, frozen in surprise and incomprehension in his new 19 years old self wanted to scream for help. He grabbed the curtain of the dressing room only to realize something just woke up a bit lower.

His cock twitched again, harder this time, filling his pants with precum as it continued to throb. The uniform was pressing tight against his groin, the sensation making him grit his teeth. Adam felt like he was falling mentally, his old life, his name, his personality, everything that made him himself was being funneled into his swelling nuts, filling them with the essence of his past self. He tried to fight it, gripping his thickened biceps and flexing his jaw, but the pleasure was too much.

“Oh… fuck,” Adam gasped, his cock leaking steadily now, every pulse sending another piece of who he used to be into the pit of his balls. His mind was going blank. Everything about his past, the awkward college days, his old job, his straight lifestyle, was swirling away, replaced by a fresh, cocky attitude that fit his new body like a glove.

Adam felt the last grip he had on his old life give up in his brain as he mentally heard a Gulp sound and without touching himself, he came. His cock twitched violently in his trousers, releasing rope after rope of thick cum into the fabric, soaking through. His knees almost buckled, his muscles tensing as his orgasm washed over him. Every shot of cum seemed to drain away the last remnants of Adam. He groaned, feeling his pants tighten around his cock as it spurted again, marking the end of his transformation.

His breathing slowed, the intense pleasure fading, leaving him standing there in the dressing room. Adam blinked, his expression now one of cocky satisfaction. His body was exactly what it should be, perfectly toned, fresh out of military school, ready to take on any challenge. He gave his bulging biceps a flex, smirking at his reflection.

Just as the last of his cum soaked through his uniform pants, there was a flash of light.

When his eyes adjusted, Adam found himself standing in a dimly lit room, surrounded by cheering soldiers. The Halloween Initiation party was in full swing, but this was no normal party. The barracks were filled with the scent of sweat and musk, and the energy in the room was electrifying. The blue-balled soldiers had been playing games of dares all night while drinking alcohol and thinning about their girls back home. They were taking turns on each other, their pent-up frustration boiling over into raw sexual energy as each other companies was the only thing available for them at the moment.

Adam's cock, still half-hard from his transformation, twitched at the sight. He wasn’t one to back down from a bet, no matter what it involved. His cocky grin widened as one of the guys, a bulky lance caporal sauntered over.

“New guy, huh? Hope you’re not shy,” the private smirked, pointing toward the center of the room where a game of dares was already heating up. Guys were taking turns on each other, sucking, fucking, the air thick with tension, laugh and alcohol.

“Shy? Never,” Adam said, the words rolling off his tongue like second nature. His old self would have been horrified, but that part of him was long gone. Now, all he felt was the thrill of the challenge, his cock already hardening again at the thought of taking one of those dares.

Within moments, Adam found himself stripped down to his uniform pants, standing in the circle of horny soldiers. His cock stood at attention, rock hard, dripping precum as the dares flew around the room. One soldier dared him to take one in the ass to prove he was one of them, and Adam’s grin only widened.

“Bring it on,” he said, his voice steady, confident.

Across the room, another soldier, Ryan, a tall, ripped guy with a mischievous smirk, caught Adam’s eye. Ryan had a reputation for never backing down from a challenge either, and tonight was no different.

“Alright, new kid,” Ryan called out, voice booming over the music. “You think you’ve got the guts to take on me? I bet you can’t last more than four minutes before I make you tap out. And if you think you can, then let’s make it interesting, I’ll fuck you, and if you make me cum first, you win. But if I fuck you senseless before the clock runs out, you’re mine for the rest of the night!”

The crowd hooted and hollered, clearly loving the idea. Adam, never one to back down, chuckled and shrugged, stepping forward. “You’re on,” he grinned, puffing out his chest as if the challenge didn’t faze him at all. Inside, his nerves tingled with a mix of excitement and tension. His old self would’ve balked at the idea, but the new Adam? He was born for this.

Ryan smirked and cracked his knuckles, stepping forward, already unbuttoning his pants while some of the guys set up a makeshift timer. Adam, shirtless, his abs and pecs glistening with sweat, kicked off his boots and started to peel off his uniform pants, his semi-hard cock springing free to a chorus of cheers and whistles from the guys around him. The thought of bending over for the first time sent a shiver down his spine, but instead of hesitation, all Adam felt was excitement. He was ready to win this bet and prove he was worth being one of them.

They positioned themselves in the center of the room. Adam braced himself on his hands and knees, his ass in the air, and his cock still throbbing as it brushed against the cold floor. The crowd gathered close, cheering and egging them on, chanting Adam’s name. Ryan loomed over him, his own cock hard and dripping, ready to go.

With no further delay, Ryan pushed his cock against Adam’s tight, virgin hole, and the moment Ryan started to press inside, Adam gritted his teeth. A sharp pain shot through him, his body tensing instinctively. The stretch was intense, way more than he’d expected, but he wasn’t going to back down. No way. Not with all these guys watching, cheering him on.

“Hah! You good down there?” Ryan teased, but Adam just barked a laugh through the pain.

“Hell yeah, I’m good. Just fuckin’ do it, man,” Adam shot back, shaking his head, trying to ease himself into the sensation. He wasn’t about to give Ryan the satisfaction of seeing him break.

The crowd roared as Ryan pushed deeper, and Adam’s breath hitched in his throat. He could feel every inch of Ryan’s cock stretching him wide, filling him up. It hurt like hell at first, his ass clenching tight, but Adam just grinned through it, biting down on his lip, determined to win.

He could hear the timer start ticking. He just had to hold out, just had to make Ryan cum first.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, hotshot,” Ryan growled and started to thrust, his hips slamming forward, his cock driving into Adam with rough, forceful strokes. Adam gasped, his body jolting with every powerful thrust, but instead of crumbling, he let out a breathless laugh.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that,” Adam taunted, grinning as he glanced over his shoulder, catching the strain on Ryan’s face.

Ryan’s cock pounded into him, faster, harder, his grip tightening on Adam’s hips as he tried to get the upper hand. But no matter how rough it got, no matter how much it burned and stretched Adam’s hole, he refused to give in. The cheers from the guys around him only fueled his determination.

“C’mon, Ryan, don’t hold back now!” Adam shouted over his shoulder, half-laughing, half-moan escaping him as the pleasure started to edge out the pain. He could feel his own cock twitching beneath him, leaking pre-cum onto the floor as Ryan’s relentless fucking started to push him closer to the edge. But it wasn’t about him. He had to make Ryan lose it first.

And Ryan was struggling. Adam could feel it in the way his thrusts were getting sloppier, the way his breath was coming in ragged gasps. His cock was twitching inside him, his composure cracking with every second that ticked by. Adam’s muscles tightened, and he arched his back just a little, pushing his ass up to meet Ryan’s thrusts, making it even harder for him to hold back.

“You gonna cum for me, Ryan?” Adam teased, voice ragged, but still full of that cocky confidence. The guys around them cheered louder, and Adam fed off their energy, his grin widening. He was close to winning. He could feel it.

Ryan let out a guttural moan, his hands digging into his hips as he tried to hold out, but Adam wasn’t going to give him a chance. He clenched his ass tight around Ryan’s cock, squeezing him hard, and that was all it took.

With a loud groan, Ryan’s hips stuttered, and Adam felt the sudden warmth of Ryan’s cum spilling deep inside him. The crowd erupted into cheers, fists pumping into the air as Ryan lost the challenge. Adam let out a triumphant laugh, his chest heaving, body shaking with the intensity of the moment.

Ryan slumped forward, panting heavily as he pulled out, but Adam was already standing up, grinning ear to ear, his own cock still hard, bobbing between his legs as the crowd of soldiers slapped him on the back, shouting congratulations.

“You fuckin’ did it!” one of them laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “You made him blow in under four minutes!”

“Hell yeah, I did,” Adam grinned, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He could still feel the dull ache in his ass, but it didn’t matter. He had won, he was one of them, and the rush of victory coursed through him like fire.

The crowd of soldiers slapped him on the back, congratulating him, Ryan approached from behind. The tall, ripped soldier, still catching his breath from their intense initiation challenge, gave Adam a smirk that spoke volumes. Without warning, Ryan wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him in close. Adam grinned, thinking it was just part of the celebration, the camaraderie of the guys after a wild challenge.

But as Ryan leaned in, his breath hot against his ear, his voice dropped to a low, rough whisper. “You may be one of us now, Adam,” he murmured, his words sending a shiver down his spine, “but you’re still gonna be my bitch from now on.”

Adam’s grin faltered for a moment, his heart skipping a beat as the meaning of Ryan’s words sank in. Before he could react, Ryan’s hand slid down his bare back, slipping lower until his fingers brushed against his still-sloppy hole. The touch was sudden, intimate, and before Adam could even think to protest, Ryan pushed one thick finger inside, pressing against his sensitive, overstimulated prostate.

The sensation hit him like a freight train. His body jolted forward, muscles tensing, and his cock, still hard and twitching, suddenly erupted. Adam’s eyes widened as he came, hands-free, his cock pulsing and shooting ropes of hot cum onto the floor beneath him. His legs trembled, barely able to keep him upright as the orgasm tore through him, pleasure crashing over him like a tidal wave.

Ryan chuckled softly into Adam’s ear, his finger still teasing his prostate, milking every last drop of cum from him. The crowd didn’t notice, too wrapped up in another challenge thrown to another new private first class, but Adam’s world narrowed down to the overwhelming sensation of Ryan’s control over his body, the undeniable pleasure, and the sharp sting of submission.

As Adam’s orgasm finally ebbed, leaving him breathless and trembling, Ryan pulled his finger out, giving his ass a possessive slap. “Good job, Private First Class Adam,” Ryan muttered, amusement lacing his voice. Then, without another word, Ryan stepped away, blending back into the group, leaving Adam standing there, dazed, his cock still dripping, his body trembling from the intensity of it all.

The other soldiers continued to cheer and party, unaware of the intimate moment that had just transpired, but he knew. He felt it deep in his bones, his new life, his new body, and now, his new place in the barracks.

He was Private First Class Adam, the cocky, easygoing guy who never backed down from a challenge. But now, as he watched Ryan disappear into the crowd, his heart still racing, he realized something else.

He may be one of them, but Ryan had claimed him all the same. And Adam wasn’t sure he minded at all.

...

Back in the store, Mister Melorius went on and grabbed the folded blue 3 pieces costume to put it up for sell, a brand new “40 yo engineer costume” was ready to be sold to someone else. ______________________________________________________________

Hey! Here is today's story. Hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always let me know what you think of it and feelf ree to send inbox messages if you want to see what Mister Melorius has in store for you. See you soon!

[defmaybe]

Wrecked (Deluxe Expanded Edition): Bonus Track - Yunjin

LE SSERAFIM’s Huh Yunjin x Male Reader

1k words (as of now)

Base album

Bonus Track - Sakura

A/N: Title gore, yes, I am aware, my apologies. Need to post this to give myself some motivation to write the entire piece out lol. My first time writing daddy kink. Also, thanks to yieldtotemptation's Easy for inspiring a lot of prose choices!

—

Yunjin’s lips sure are the pair that you’re going to remember.

She kneels down on the floor, painting your length with the fire-engine red of her lipstick and her slick, thick saliva. Hot breath from her nostrils brushes against your cock, making you strain on your couch. Her hair is tied up into a ponytail, eyes looking up at you—pleading, begging for your cum.

Her hands grip on your thighs tightly, effectively holding you in your place. The suction is perfect, immaculate, deliberate. You squirm and moan loudly. Good thing the walls are thick here. Never have you gotten a single noise complaint from the other residents fucking women raw—both in the mouth and in the cunt (sometimes even in the ass).

“Keep sucking it, babygirl. You’re doing well,” you whine drunkenly, hands playing with the locks and messes in her hair. They are soft to your touch.

“Won’t leave you hanging, daddy,” Yunjin says, muffled by your thick cock, eyes staring into yours. She breaks the suction with occasional licks on your shaft and balls, pressing her flat, filthy tongue against your sensitive spot, and you’d shriek when she does that. Her hands help, rubbing on your cock while the warmth of her mouth is missing, and you just can’t help but to moan.

“Daddy loves it, doesn’t he?” Yunjin says with a soft giggle, running her hands on your thighs, overstimulating you. “My pussy’s even better than this. Think about it.”

And you think about it—the way her warm mouth envelops you, so unbelievably tight and wet. The image of you fucking her even-tighter cunt elects itself up in your mind as she squirms under you like a slut. Her legs are lifted in the air while you thrust into her with such merciless roughness. Her tight walls contract and heave around your throbbing cock. Both of you moan in unison from the pleasure cutting through your bodies. She’s going to fucking milk you for all you’re worth if you only get a touch of her hole.

“Bet you wanna wreck my pussy so bad,” Yunjin teases, hands cupping your balls, nuzzling her nose on your waist as her tongue laves around the base of your cock. She laps her tongue up your cock once more, making you groan from the depths of your lungs, before taking you whole with her mouth again. “Bet you wanna breed me with that white, hot cum, putting that baby batter inside my womb.”

You growl as a response, “You’re a such a fucking slut, Yunjin.”

She only giggles, diving on your length again, and again, and again. Each time brings you such incomprehensible pleasure through your body. She stretches her lips as far as they’ll go, taking your cock into her mouth like she has been built for it. Her puffy, plump lips take you like she was hard-coded into sucking your cock. Syntax be damned, auto-complete all abused. It’s that hot, slick mouth. She’s a total professional, and you can’t help but squirm and thrash in her execution.

Yunjin doubles her efforts, gaining her tempo on your cock while taking you in deep. You can feel the tip of your cock hitting the back of her throat. She begins to gag, making those poor retching sounds from the depth of her lungs. Her throat pulses and convulses from the sheer size of your cock. 

“Nasty cockslut.”

She looks up, lashes fluttering. “I’m honored to be your little cockslut, daddy,” slurs Yunjin, sounding so slutty that it’s sending you into overdrive, mouth still so fucking full of your cock, tip poking her throat.

“Bet every guy in your department has thought about fucking that mouth of yours,” you snarl, barely coherent, cock aching and throbbing so desperately inside the cavern that is Huh Yunjin’s mouth. Your hands dig into the fabric of your couch as her head goes haywire on your cock, so eager to drink your white, hot nectar.

“You’re the first in the company to fuck my mouth, daddy.”

The idea spurs you on, and you feel it, that wave from afar, ready to crash into you. You’re straining, hands moving to grip her ponytail at the back of her head, thrusting your cock into her slutty mouth clumsily. Her mouth is begging, pleading to be fucked like this, you tell yourself. The suction, the plumpness of her lips, the sound she makes when the tip of your cock hits the back of her throat. You use her, making her take you fully, making her mouth yours, making her yours.

The feeling builds up inside your loins. Your body arches into her, rutting into her mouth roughly. You hear Yunjin gag and retch around your cock, tightly gripping on your thighs for holds. God, she’s such a perfect cocksleeve, taking you in so hungrily.

Until you break.

“Fuck!”

You press Yunjin’s head against your crotch, unloading your balls into her mouth, spraying seemingly an endless amount of cum onto the back of her throat. Yunjin gags on you, but she takes it—every, single, drop. She lets it run down her throat into her stomach, swallowing all of you. Your cock twitches painfully against the confines called her mouth, body unable to stay still on the couch. The sight is nothing short of ugly and obscene—you pressing Yunjin’s head against your crotch while your body twitches from the sheer force of your orgasm.

The orgasm slowly subsides, as you let go of Yunjin’s ponytail, giving her the much-needed space to breathe again. She’s shaking in front of you, trying to recompose herself back up again. Yunjin languidly drags her mouth off your cock, making a loud pop sound once it detaches. She smiles, showing you her prize, showing you the mess she has made. Strings of cum latch onto her teeth, and she moans, so drunk on your cum, so fucking lewdly you swear that you can just cum again. She absorbs your flavor into her tongue, licking the tongue around her teeth.

And she’s doing all this while she looks you in the eye.

“Any errors, daddy?”

“Not at all.”

—

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

riddle and how he views his mother

Consider this a part 2 to this analysis! A while ago, I was asked "Why doesn't Riddle resent his mother?", which is the question that the original analysis answers.

Recently, Riddle's Night Sky's Chiffon vignettes were released into the world, and it contains a lot of interesting detailsthat expands on how Riddle views his mother. I wanted to commentate on this new information and how it supports what I said in the original post.

The topic of mothers comes up in these vignettes. Deuce, who was talking about his own mom, quickly realizes that it's awkward to mention parents in front of Riddle, so he apologizes. To his surprise, Riddle is super chill about it and tells Deuce he doesn't really mind, so be at ease. And then Riddle states it outright, clear as day: "I'm grateful to my mother."

Deuce follows up with a comment to the effect of, "It looks like moms are strong in every family", to which Riddle actually agrees.

Riddle credits his mom for his ability to do many things in the present. For example, he took gymnastics classes so he was able to pull off the ballet in this event (one of the Princess in the Tower's required activities). He also learned social dancing, which comes in handy for formal events such as Ghost Marriage and Glorious Masquerade. Most notably, Riddle excels in academics--he is noted as being top of this grade multiple times, has prevented any students in Heartslabyul from dropping out, and is able to memorize 3 magic engineering/coding textbooks in only just a few minutes + helps to keep Malleus at bay in a recent main story update--something which no one else would be able to achieve. He's also able to cast powerful spells in quick succession as the result of his magical training from a young age. It can be argued, then, that despite Mrs. Rosehearts' methods, she did ultimately instill many useful skills in Riddle to set him up for success as a mage. He recognizes the value in that, and acknowledges her for it. There is always a part of Riddle that thinks he is a "better" person today because of his mother's discipline, even if he is just now starting to question her methodology.

He is disciplined and capable because of his upbringing--this cannot be denied. And Riddle can't find it in himself to resent his mother because of that. This woman raised him and taught him all these things because she genuinely believed this was what was "best" for him. How can he hate her for that? For just doing what she thought was her "best"?

I also want to point out how Riddle and his mother are shown to be "one and the same" in these vignettes. Later on, Riddle expresses that he wants to send out a mass email commanding all the Heartslabyul students to prepare at least 10 lanterns each to release in the night, or else there will be punishment awaiting them. He worries that the mobs won't be motivated to help without the threat of a punishment looming over them. Sure enough, when Trey and Cater pass on Riddle's order, the mobs complain and talk about how much nicer it is around Heartslabyul without the dorm leader breathing down their necks. However, the two third years then remind the mobs that while Riddle is strict, he HAS helped them. He provides test notes, edits essays, and hosts study sessions for his dorm members. The mobs eventually realize they need Riddle around, so they end up pitching in and getting those latnerns.

THIS IS PARALLELING MRS. ROSEHEARTS. Like his mother, Riddle is very strict with those under his care--but it comes from a place of his "love", from wanting to see them succeed. And, like Riddle is with his mom, the mobs cannot detach themselves entirely from their dorm leader. I know that book 1 primarily paints Riddle adopting his mother's attitude as a toxic thing (and it is, when it gets out of control)--but with moderation, it also has its useful applications, as we see in these vignettes.

Now let's not get it twisted; none of this erases the absurd restrictions imposed on Riddle, her intense rage, or the child neglect/abuse committed. What I am saying is that she is a person too, not a blob of all things bad in the world. She deserves grace and to have her positives acknowledged too--and this naturally feeds into Riddle's complicated feelings about her, especially now that he sees her bad sides... something he never really faced before.

Riddle's vignettes end on a hopeful note, though I don't know if the characters themselves realize the implications of it. The final scene takes place with the lantern-filled sky, and Deuce wondering why the Princess in the Tower grew her hair out so long to begin with. Was she planning to escape all along? But Jack explains that the witch that kidnapped her wanted the Princess to grow her hair long. The Princess in the Tower obeyed this wish, even though maintaining such long hair is a hassle. To this, Deuce comments that she really must have seen the witch as her mother. Riddle then says that no matter how precious the hair was, it's still cumbersome. "She can't even walk like this." AND THEN RIDDLE JUST CASUALLY SLICES HIS HAIR OFF, NO HESTIATION... ONE CHOP. Deuce panics because the ends look ugly, but Riddle simply replies there's no need to worry, "I do not need long hair anymore."

DO YOU REALIZE WHAT THAT MEANS???????? ? ??? ? ????? Long hair is the symbol of Rapunzel's oppression. It is something she maintains because her oppressor, Gothel, told her to. But long hair is also what ultimately frees her from the tower. The same is true of Riddle. He largely does what he is told to by his mother, believing that she is always correct. Riddle almost doesn't leave the library (despite the long hair being an easy way out) because "I've decided. Never again." He's so close to locking himself up in that metaphorical tower and not allowing himself out for fear of incurring her wrath for disobeying. And in the end, Riddle is still able to leave that tower. He so easily slices his long hair, something which prevents the Princess--HIM--from walking. But in severing that thread, CUTTING THE HAIR, he is freeing himself and finding a way to walk independently.

Maybe Riddle can't do it today (as he so clearly still respects his mother and all that she has done for him)... maybe not tomorrow, either... but someday. Someday...!! Someday, Riddle will be able to "cut his long hair" and walk on his own 😭 and then his life will truly "begin"... Why this nuanced writing get shoved into a vignette and not in the Wish Lantern event story itself, I'LL NEVER UNDERSTAND--

[tadpolesonalgae]

Fire In His Blood

Lucien x reader

For Day 2 of @acotar-omegaverse-week - Turning Up The Heat: You seem a little flushed, darling... is everything alright?

a/n: avert your eyes

warnings: smut obviously, knotting, pussy-eating, overstim, squirting, light nipple play, spanking, praise kink, breeding kink, kinda rough sex, biting, belly bulge

word count: 3,696

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Across the room Lucien sits patronisingly silent, both eyes focused with infuriatingly faux concentration on the book clasped in his long fingers. 

Your throat rolls, a pearly bead of sweat gliding down your spine, throat rolling as you shift once more in attempts to shy from the blazing heat of the miniature furnace. If you’d also hailed from the Autumn Court you’d be singeing the carefully trimmed ends of his thick, silky hair; burning the hem off his perfectly tailored trousers that wrap themselves greedily around the mouth-watering muscles of his thighs; turning his slippers to coal. 

Perspiration gathers between your breasts, but you refuse to yield an inch. He’s used this tactic plenty of times before, and each and every one you’ve naively fallen for it; not this time. 

In the evenings when the light fades, and the air becomes cool but dry and the two of you take up your seats in the living room, windows flung wide to allow that evening breeze to sweep through the interior should the day have been too much of a struggle, he’ll do this. Slowly raise the temperature of the room, incrementally inching higher until you discard your outer layers. Then it will continue to creep higher…and higher…and higher…until there’s a dewy shine to your skin and you’re in little more than a vest and underwear. Then one thing will lead to another. 

“Your clothes are already off.” He would reason with a self-satisfied smirk, a broad palm gliding up to pause between your shoulder blades, the pads of his fingers splayed across your skin. “Might as well help you sweat out the fever.” 

Of course, it was never a fever. Nor an oddly warm night. Always Lucien Vanserra, inching up those degrees. 

On this cooler night, however, there’s a fire lit in the spacious living room, burning and crackling and sparking. A log splits, popping cavernously and you flare your skirts under the guise of rearrangement. The temporary rush of air that sweeps up your legs is welcome, but the following stagnancy is hellish. With a subtle glance to the windows, you ache for them to be open, for the curtains to be swaying in a nighttime breeze bringing in a moon-kissed wind that would soothe the burning heat of your skin, but as it is the curtains are drawn shut, trapping you within the sweltering furnace of a room. 

Breathing becomes difficult, the dry air itching at your parched throat, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth and lips sticking shut. 

When a bead of sweat rolls down your temple, your jaw grinds, pushing abruptly from the armchair to stride over to your mate. Arms fold beneath your breasts, glaring down at the cocky alpha you’d somehow thought would be a good idea to spend the rest of your life with. 

“Lucien.” His name is a sharp hiss of vehemence from your lungs, his eyes snapping from his book at the furious tone. “Cut it out.” You grit the words through a clenched jaw, nostrils flared with indignation.  

His brow raises in denial, lips parting to produce a no-doubt snarky reply, when he pauses. His pupils dilate, chest expanding on a slow and deep inhale. A few seconds pass with you stood before him, arms crossed tightly as you glare down at your alpha while he stares silently upward. Then his book closes. He doesn’t take his eyes from you as he lays it across the chair’s arm, and the heavy novel slides from the fabric, thumping to the wooden floor. 

Lucien’s attention remains on you, making the heat increase tenfold, blood scalding as it gushes through your body. 

“I said cut it out,” you pant, fury singeing at the edges, steadily disintegrating to ash as you have to drag your sleeve below your jaw, drying the dampened skin. 

Lucien’s throat rolls, irises almost entirely swallowed by the black of his pupils. “Lovely…” he tries, but you cut him off with a low hiss that boarders on a snarl. “Right now, or I’m—” 

Hot palms caress your hips before long, deft fingers curl around the sweep of bone and your pulse fumbles, spiking higher than you thought possible. Breath catches and sweat slowly slips down your inner thigh, trickling over the scalding skin—so hot you’re surprised it’s not evaporating. 

Lucien swallows again, hot mouth parting on a short breath, a fang glinting shy from beneath his lip. “That’s not…” He’s breathing heavily now, nostrils flaring delicately and his grip closes around your ribcage, fingers splaying up your back while his thumbs graze beneath the swell of your breasts. Your inhales match his, growing laboured as he stands from his seat, slowly rising higher until your head tips back, forced to crane your neck from the proximity. 

Another droplet of sweat slides down your inner thigh, meandering down until it drips over the roundness of the interior of your knee. “Turn down the heat,” you demand breathlessly, “it’s too hot.” 

“That’s not me,” he murmurs, tongue flicking over his lips, eyes refusing to remove themselves from your face. “Lu, there’s currently sweat dripping down my thighs, don’t you dare…” You trail off in a moan when hunger darkens his eyes, pulling you tight to his body and sliding those long fingers between the roundness of your ass, pushing between your legs to graze your clothed sex. “I don’t think that’s sweat, princess.” 

He spins you around faster than you can blink, pushing you down into the deep cushioning of his armchair, spreading your thighs so they hook over the arms, skirts shoved up to your hips. Firelight shudders over the burning orange room, walls alight with the heat of flame and arousal liquefies in your lower belly, hundreds of tiny butterflies fluttering wildly in your abdomen, between your legs, so much intensity your thighs begin to shake. “What-…?”

It seems Lucien’s figured it out before you, knees hitting the hardwood floor with a painful thud, fingers wrapping around and squeezing the flesh of your thighs as he pushes them closer to your chest. A shiver breaks down your spine as his fangs graze the interior of your knee, tongue dragging hotly against your skin, flicking up over that heavy droplet of— 

The growl he releases has you sinking further into arousal, leaning deeper into the instincts that are swiftly surfacing. You push your legs wider, leveraging yourself upon the arms of the chair to incline your hips, offering and begging for him to do something. 

A russet and a golden eye both flick upward and you swear you can feel them over your pussy, skating up over your breasts, nipping and tugging at your lips. Heat, they say, You’re in heat. 

You think you shake your head but you can’t be sure, not with the haze that’s descended down on your mind like a wave of fog cresting the mountains and falling to fill the valleys. 

“Lucien,” you breathe. “Lucien…” 

His nostrils fare, scenting the arousal that’s practically rolling off your body, almost vibrating with need, slick dripping from your sopping pussy. Soaking all the way through your underwear. Dampening the fabric of the cushions beneath you. 

A moan spills from your lips, hips rolling upward desperately as he tears the underwear from your body, fangs having pierced the delicate fabric, ripping them clean from your sensitive skin. His eyes are glued to your cunt, glistening in the firelight, and pulses of pleasure flutter up through your abdomen as he drags his tongue through your centre. A thick thread of slick is attached to his chin from a single lick, and he dives back almost instantly, tongue, teeth, and mouth centring at your entrance, his nose pushing against your clit and your thighs fall apart for him.

The sound of slurping bounces off the walls, his tongue practically burning as he licks you clean, swiping against the innermost parts of your thighs, trailing around the the curve of your cunt, lapping from where your ass meets the cushion to the tip of your clit. You want more. You need more. You open your thighs wider, as wide as they can go, hips bucking and rolling, rubbing against his face. Fingers lazily, weakly, thread through the length of his silky hair, feeling as it slips between your digits, perfect to grab onto—like luxury reigns. 

Your hands bunch into fists, knuckles turning white from the grip you have on him. Powerful arms band around your thighs, muscles stretching from how far you’re being pushed apart, aching from the pleasurable strain but it feels so good. The babbling moans that are falling from your throat are probably more than enough to tell him that, though. 

The orgasm rises smoothly, swiftly, dragging you under like a stray riptide as a wave passes overhead, dragged down, down, down, as breath is locked in your lungs, drowned as the pleasure pulses through your thighs, cunt fluttering as your clit aches. 

It’s not enough. 

It’s not enough. 

“Lucien.” Hands tug on his hair but his face is still buried between your thighs, tongue and teeth working hungrily, dragging up through your centre, licking up and tasting your orgasm. “Lucien. Lu. More. Please.” Your breathing is far from even, laboured and huffing from your lips, fabric rustling as laces fly free from loops, ruffles strewn from your waist and arms, flung to the floor as you surge forward to meet the firm body of your alpha. 

His palms wrap themselves in a cage around your ribs, moans and groans spilling hotly as your lips meet, arousal gleaming thickly over his mouth as his tongue dips inside. Fuck, you can feel him against your stomach, the hard outline of his cock digging into your abdomen, and he can’t have all those clothes on. Feral fingers claw at buttons, sending them flying as linen is ripped away from hot, bare skin, your tongue instantly dragging up his sternum, teeth biting hungrily at his collar bone like you might be able to feast on him. 

“Love,” he pants, hands squeezing and exploring, tracing and retracing each line of muscle, every swell of your body as if he’s blind. “Love.” It comes out as a snarl, fresh arousal bursting through your body, every spec of skin aching with acute awareness, searching for the feeling of his rough hands to satiate the keen yearning that’s itching below your flesh. 

His hand fists in your hair, tugging you back, forcing you to stare into his molten gaze, starving hunger simmering so blatantly a whimper escapes your throat. His fangs glint in the flame light, then he’s hauling you back with him, shoving you down to the floor, the impact hardly registering as he fits himself between your legs, and you can feel him. Oh gods you can feel him. 

“Lucien,” you cry, on the verge of melting into nothing. “Inside…I need you…inside, now.” 

Thigh are pushed upwards, knees to your chest, sweat trickling down the nape of your neck, dripping onto the rug below. Your eyes lock as he slides in to the hilt, the entrance swift and effortless. Wet slurping noises sound between you as your arms and legs lock around him, panting and crying as you feel him deep inside, powerful muscle hot and firm against your soft and supple form. 

Lucien groans, muscles flexing in his arms as he pulls back to look at you. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he growls, jaw straining as molten iron simmers in his one russet eye. He leans closer, lips searing your own. “Perfect little omega cunt.” 

Your eyes flutter, grinding sloppily against one another, hips rolling and bucking lazily, not yet focused enough to organise your movements. His cock rubs against your walls, pushing a bulge into your stomach and your toes curl. “Lucien…I— I need—”

“I know what you need,” he growls, palms splaying across the carpet as he pushes himself up, firelight kissing sun-warmed skin. “And—fuck—I’m right here.” 

A loud moan is shoved from your chest as he pulls back and slams in, pleasure knocking the breath from your lungs, and you don’t think you’ll be able to live through this if he doesn’t let you take his knot. 

You need his knot. 

Need to feel it swelling inside of you, locking you so firmly in place as he releases into you, making sure you can’t pull off him when he unloads inside of your sweet, dripping pussy. Not until you’re dripping his cum down your thighs from being stuffed full, so full— 

Lucien hits a spot than has your nails scraping and scratching his back, clawing hungrily as your arms shake, needing to feel him inside of you, spilling into your cunt, filling you up until you can’t move without some of him dripping out. Lucien curses under his breath, hips stuttering as he feels you tighten around him, sucking him deeper into your wet heat. “Such a perfect cunt,” he groans, hips rolling roughly to your own, bucking sharply as instinct demands he give and give and give. “So fucking pretty. So fucking prefect of you.” 

Your eyes flutter, and you’re coming, squeezing his cock tight, hips bucking as your clit grazes his abdomen, thunder and lightening storming in your veins, fuelling the fire that’s burning between the two of you. 

Lucien releases a deep-throated groan, bordering on a growl as he feels you fluttering around him. His brows furrow, eyes shutting as he pants, basking in the aftershocks of your cunt. “Feels so good,” he mutters, hot breath fanning across your throat, fangs scratching faintly, promising more. “Gods, I could stay in you forever.” 

“More,” you urge, thighs squeezing him, hips already bucking against his despite having just orgasmed. “Lu, please. Need your knot. Need it inside of me.” 

“If that’s what you want…” 

You whimper with pleasure as he rolls onto his back, bringing you with him so you’re straddling his hips. Tears slip from your lashes as gravity pulls you down on his cock, his tip pressing against that spot that… 

Your palms splay across his chest, his hands gripping your hips tight, cock nestled deep inside your dripping cunt. “Lu…” you start, but his grip tightens on you, lifting you sharply from his hips only to slam you down, bucking up to meet you. Your spine arches with the surge of pleasure, teetering along the line of overstimulation…but that’s exactly what you need. To be shaking, trembling, sobbing. Need to hardly know up from down, and still have him pounding your pussy, filling you up. 

His hips buck, and your nails push against his skin. “There…!” You pant breathlessly, “right there…!” Lucien angles your hips, keeping you from moving away. “Here?” 

“Yes…yes, yes, yes!” 

Your breathing falters as you feel a swell at the base of his cock, noting how his chest is lined with tension…you begin bouncing, vibrating with pleasure when you feel him swell, grow larger, and larger…and… You whimper, wiggling your hips faintly, nestling down on him as you feel his knot lodge inside of you perfectly. Lucien groans, and you know he’s undeniably close. Close to spurting loads of cum into your pretty pussy, his knot keeping you locked on top of him as he finishes…you can’t wait for it. 

“Lu…” you whine softly, bringing your body to a still, fingers half-wrapping around his wrists, encouraging them higher. “Touch me…please…” 

“You want more?” The laugh he releases is strained to say the least, but his russet eye is glinting with hunger. “Greedy little omega. Isn’t that right?” Your teeth find placement in your lip, nodding eagerly as a lazy smile curves your lips. “Greedy…so greedy, Lu.”  

“Want my cock and my knot, huh?” 

“So badly.” You arch into his touch as he palms your breasts, grazing the pads of his fingers over your sensitive nipples. “So, so badly.” 

“Mhmm. So if I do…” Fingers pinch at your nipples, hips rolling up to meet yours, grinding against you so his knot rubs against those sensitive inner walls. 

Lucien chuckles as your eyes roll, hands falling away from his wrists, barely holding yourself upright on his cock. “Please…” you whisper, swirling your hips, tightening around him in encouragement. Urging him to finish inside of you. “Want to take it…” 

“You think you can?” He taunts, bucking upward sharply. 

“Mhmm. I can…”

“And you’re gonna do it…?”

“Well! …so well,” you pant. “Please…!”

A smirk curves his mouth, and you hungrily slide over him, lips pushing together as you moan into the sloppy mess of a kiss. His palm connects with you ass, squeezing appreciatively, soothing the sore skin before pulling back and spanking you again. Curses are muttered over your lips, Lucien feeling how you tighten around him with every impact, his canines nipping at your lips, his own still tasting of your arousal. 

“You’re going to be a good girl and take it? All of it?” A nod, followed by a hard spank. 

“My sweet little omega? Desperate for my cock? Not going to complain or whine when it gets too much because she doesn’t know her own limits?” Another nod, another spank. 

“Gonna take everything you can? No complaints? Not gonna brat about how it’s too much when you love it being too much?” An eager whimper, followed by a firm and final spank. 

“I won’t…I’ll take it…I’ll be perfect…!” 

“Such a good girl,” he praises, russet eye twinkling with male satisfaction, pride shining in his blown-out pupils. His fingers flex around your hips, readjusting his hold. “Have it.”

Together, you lift as far as you can go and slide down, swiftly finding motion and rhythm that works—you finding what you like, and Lucien carrying your movements with his grip, following whatever direction you choose. 

Both of you curse as he reaches his peak, feeling his knot pulse inside of you, feeling all of him inside of you, releasing, spurting hot cum, unloading himself deep into your cunt. Euphoria floods your body, heart fluttering in your chest. Your head tips back, hips swirling over him, Lucien’s hands pressing you down tight to him. Cock nestled deep, cum releasing deeper. 

Power crackles through the air, magic blazing from within his chest, the very tips of his fingertips glowing with red-hot brightness, russet burning the colour of freshly forged steel as pleasure courses through his body. 

Breath is knocked from you however, when he flips you over. 

You gasp at the sensitivity, shuddering with overstimulation, sweat surely beading down your spine. Is he—? “Lucien!” 

His hands grip your hips tight, his knees between your own on the rug, your palms flat against the soft fur and tears line your eyes as he pulls himself out, knot deflated enough for him to slip away. 

And slam back in to the hilt. 

The force knocks you forward, arms giving out beneath you as he pounds your poor pussy, slick coating your thighs—his, too—as it continues dripping, spilling from where you’re joined. One hand snakes between your legs, the pad of his middle finger effortlessly locating your clit, and you squirm as he begins circling it—mean, tight circles than make your muscles lock. 

Pleas fall from your lips, begging for more, for less, to go slower, to go harder, to fill you up, to full out, to fuck your mouth, to fuck your pussy, to come on your tongue, to spill more inside of you…to fuck you into babbling, sobbing mess of pleasure, arousal, and come.

“That’s it,” he soothes, curving over your arched back, heat pressing into your spine. “You’re taking it so well. Let me keep you full, yeah?” 

You moan your desperation, nodding your head as much as you can, feeling heat boil and bubble within your core, having trouble dealing with all of his stimulation…and with another knot forming… Gods, this. This is perfect. This is what you need. Every minute of every hour of every day for the next week. Maybe more. 

Lucien pulls himself upright so the hand that was bracing him on the rug can drop to the slick interior of your knee, gripping tight as his fingers wrap a good way around the circumference of your thigh, cocking your leg. You drool into the carpet as he fucks you deeper into the pleasure, knot swelling larger, larger than before, once again locking you tight together, except this time his fingers are rubbing against your clit and you sob as you reach your peak. 

Pleasure unlatches within you, and you feel as liquid pleasure releases onto him, gushing as he hits those spots again, and again, and again. Fucking you into an oblivion of ecstasy. 

In the back of your mind you can hear the breathless praises falling from his mouth. Telling you how perfect you are, how well you’re taking his cock, how full you’re going to be by the time he’s done with you. And sure enough you can feel him spurting into you, releasing himself deep inside your cunt. 

You’re a panting, sweating mess beneath him—both of you are, really. Skin glistening before the hearth, flame flickering its heat onto the walls. You’re far too sensitive to be moving, the aftershocks still fluttering through your overstimulated cunt, and yet part of you wants Lucien to roll you back on top of him and start slamming you down again, pounding into you until you’re orgasming again, feeling his knot swell inside, keeping you together. 

Teeth prod into your lower lip, tilting your head to one side. Together sounds good. Joined; locked; tied. 

Your throat rolls as Lucien’s tongue licks up the side of your neck, a low growl rumbling in his chest where instincts are ordering him to bite, searching for the spot he likes. And when his fangs find those marks, the rightness of your unity floods you with pleasure, weakly pushing back against him so his cock remains tight inside of you. 

Gods, a week of this…fucking heaven. 

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover @mrsjna

[munsonpetal]

joel miller x reader fic rec list

smut !!

angst ☁︎

fluff ♡

last updated: dec 7

3 or more parts

masterlist @pedrospatch

masterlist @pedgito

masterlist @kiwisbell

put your sweet lips on my lips !! @thetriumphantpanda

he won't ever kiss you, those are the rules, but you fall in love with him anyway.

my joel, !!☁︎♡ @tightjeansjavi

the story of two forbidden lovers finding each other once more.

by the grit of sandpaper !!☁︎♡ @penvisions

joel miller is a gruff as they come, the world having changed him for the worst. but settling in jackson with his brother changed him for the better. he’s known around town as someone to help, whether it be with home repairs, construction, and hand carved trinkets. an offhand comment from you inspires him to branch out and create helpful kitchen wares. and it seems everyone has been gifted one from him, except for you. it makes you rethink the casual friendship you had developed with the man that had just begun to expand beyond patrols.

confused warmth !!☁︎♡ @rise-my-angel

daydreams ♡ @morning-star-joy

it’s been years since joel’s kissed anybody, and your lips are all he can think about.

plum !!☁︎♡ @thyme-in-a-bubble

“fuck…” all the air escaped Tommy’s lungs, “I thought she was dead…” his glistening eyes didn’t rip away from your frame for even a second as he revealed, “yeah… yeah, I know her. She’s like family.”

ma’am !! @mssalo

joel miller’s spent a lifetime in control, but under your confident lead, he’s discovered just how good it feels to let go. as your right-hand man in jackson, he’s desperate to please, finding himself worshiping you in ways he’s never dared before—and loving every filthy second of it.

never made it as a wise man !! @almostempty

joel solves your car troubles for free, and you try to return the favor with a homecooked meal. when you accidentally interrupt his jerkoff session, you take a chance and help him out.

but he’s the one i want !!☁︎♡ @wheresarizona

all you needed was to see if your dad’s friend, joel, had a spare key to your father’s house. instead, you get railed within an inch of your life on joel’s couch. 

whiskey sour !!☁︎♡ @/kiwisbell

reuniting with your estranged father while you finish college in austin has unintended consequences. his best friend, for one.

heavenly bound !! @ozarkthedog

the world crumbled before you could experience the touch of another. Joel does his best to keep you innocent for as long as he can.

[starshipsofstarlord]

parental advisory | daryl dixon

summary. at the beginning of the strenuous outbreak, you never thought there would ever be the opportunity to build a family. it was never safe, that was until you reached commonwealth. all you want is a baby of your own, but you are unsure if daryl would agree due to the impractical risks and unspoken label of your relationship together (5.8k)

warnings. smut, unprotected sex, cumming inside, fingering, slight handjob, some angst, fluff, reciprocated love, mentions of death, swearing, scars (on both reader and daryl), petnames

MINORS DNI (18+), I DO NOT CONTROL YOUR CONSUMPTION ON THIS BLOG 👻

divider credits. @cafekitsune

It was difficult to keep striving on and forwards after so many of those that you had cared for were gone, taken by the harsh circumstances of which you had fought to survive. You’d never forget a single one of them for as long as you lived, they had made you realise that the world still had things to offer, even if you had to look past the traumatic bloodshed and the dead walking to see them.

Your hands weren’t clean of blood by any means, but you had done what had been necessary, and because of it you remained breathing. And so did Judith and RJ, of whom had fallen under the care of you and Daryl amidst the cold and imposing effects of the reality that they had both been born into. It was never expected for your mind to conclude on the realisation that you desired a child of your own, however it was constantly plaguing you, like a fever that you just couldn’t shake.

But it was another daunting responsibility that you would need to protect, and it was more important to prioritise those that were already around you. Whilst you had never sought out something for yourself after the end of the world unless it was a product of vitality, you couldn’t be selfish in that way. You were well aware that with time your clock was ticking, for each day you were getting older, and at any moment the unexpected could end your life, but seeing the parents walking through Commonwealth with their own bundles of blood in their arms forced your heart to yearn.

You loved Judith and RJ, and of course Dog, with your entire being, and you would do anything that they required from you, and so you became mercilessly frustrated with yourself for secretly wanting more. There was no conclusion on how, if you were to, to mention your maternal cravings to Daryl, you were companions who had been through hell together and shared the same bed. To those on the outside, it would look like you were the parents of one small but happy family.

And to some degree you were. But they knew that you were auntie y/n and uncle Daryl, and sadly enough, the last family that they had, apart from Carol. Everyone else was gone, either cooped up in the rebuild of Alexandria, or dead. All that remained was unceremoniously precious, and you weren’t willing to so much as give up even a smidge of what you had desperately salvaged. The earth was in in-emendable ruins, but parts of your own world remained, and whilst your ovaries wanted to expand the metaphorical horizon of which you loved, you were content even whilst you were passively brooding.

Your thoughts were instantly shaken from your skull when you heard the front door open and close. It was late in the eve, Daryl had been out completing his responsibilities throughout the daytime, whilst you had been occupied with your unrealistic daydreams, and doing absolutely nothing else besides keeping a watchful eye on the Grimes children. And your lack of incomplete household chores made you feel disposable, and you were aware that Daryl wouldn’t care, but you still felt pathetically guilt ridden.

Dog abandoned his resting place which had been beside your feet to greet the archer, his tail excitedly wagging, as you remained in your attempts of forcing your lonesome pondering away. You stood in defiance to appear as though nothing was bothering you, it was a routine on your part to wait for Daryl to get home, even if the kids were in bed like they were tonight. As you neared the door where the man was ruffling the fur behind the loyal canine’s ears, you could see the exhaustion that weighed heavily beneath Daryl’s eyes. It hadn’t been a good day for him, clearly it had been long and agitating.

“Supper’s in the kitchen.” No doubt he was hungry, and so you had scraped together whatever was edible so that there could be food on the table. It was still strange to you that you no longer had to ransack empty homes and stores, or hunt to keep your stomach full. Times had certainly changed, and you sent Daryl a small yet somewhat forced smile as you hugged your middle with your own arms. The man stood up straight as he squinted in your direction, examining your form. It was stupid to think that you could try and hide anything from him, your wishful thinking was a detrimental shield for the unrealistic desires that lingered on your mind. You were only taunting yourself further and worrying your domestic companion.

Dog watched with tilted ears as Daryl strode toward you, tipping your chin upwards with his forefinger to subdue your eyes with meeting his. “Somethin’s botherin’ you.” It wasn’t a question, he needn’t have if there was a live wire alight in your brain, he knew you too well. “Y/n, you can tell me anythin’, ya know that.” A part of you felt guilty, he was exhausted, and if you’d have just gone to bed rather than waiting up for his return, then he would have been none the wiser. You were certain that he would view your dreams as circumstantially foolish, he not only knew how great the responsibility of caring for and protecting a child was, but that were too many risks that threatened the the health and overall life of the mother.

Without strict medical structures within the communities that had formed after the outbreak which was dealt with a tough comparison against the government ran hospital facilities, options that could aid during a pregnancy were very slim. Almost nonexistent in fact. The both of you had bore as mourning witnesses to Lori’s fate which was sympathetically horrific, it was an enormous gift that Judith remained well and breathing considering that she would have cut it close to a short and youthful life if it hadn’t have been for Maggie, who was now a mother to her own son.

Everyone had moved on somehow from the dark events that had implored themselves with terrible timing, and now you were ready to do the same. Nothing could hold you back, other than the sadistic rejection that you feared Daryl would meet your idea with. Your mouth felt dry, as though somebody had rubbed sandpaper upon your tongue, as you opened your lips, preparing every imaginable possibility to spew desperately in the form of many passionate words. But there was only a straightforward statement that abjured from you. “I want a baby.” You said with your head bowed down in a likeliness of shame.

The silence that prevailed had you feeling resentful of yourself and uncomfortable. It coiled in a cruel grasp around your shoulders, and you could only apologise profusely for your honest communication. “I’m sorry Daryl, god I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have sprung that on you like that.” The tears that dwelled in your eyes befuddled your vision; things were more than fine the way they were, and you just had to go and ruin it with your selfish impulses. “Forget I said anythin’,” you fearfully demanded, rubbing your damp eyes with the curve of your palm.

The dream that you had was nothing more than an epiphany of your greatest delusions, it was never going to happen. Whilst you felt largely incomplete, you felt guilty for the plague that you had erupted in Daryl’s mind, you couldn’t even dare to look at him. It was expected that if you did you would only be met with a flavour of emotions. The worst of them would be disappointment. You had never let Daryl down, and you had always been profusely loyal, but you deemed that all to be over now. If only you hadn’t been poisoned by the sins of greed, you wouldn’t have felt significantly judged by your better half.

With self sufficiency blending the lines that your sight gravitated towards on the floorboards as you attempted to brush past Daryl and escape the suffocating room, you felt his hand grab gently at the inner crook of your elbow. You became tense from the contact that you were normally no stranger to, afraid that he would guide you to the front door. But he didn’t, his stature remained still as he hoisted your chin up with his pointer finger again. “Don’ walk away y/n/n.” He inwardly gulped as you failed to recognise the glint that twinkled in his oceanic eyes. His mouth wavered as he too tried to pronounce the reeling of his brain. Daryl cleared his throat, attracting his body closer to your own.

You were almost shaking from the desolate nerves that scrutinised worrisome aura; he’d confided in you about the hardships of his youth. Had been selfish of you to have shared such an intimate aspect of the inclinations that your inner demons harboured. “Shit.” The curse fell from his lips, and you were no to being a witness to Daryl struggling to express how he was really feeling. Your expectations were for him to condone you with a faucet of repulse - he’d never have the intention of being your sexual partner again out of fear of putting an infant bun in your abdominal oven. There were always risks of an unwanted pregnancy in the apocalypse where any preventions were scarce. But you wanted this, and you highly doubted that he ever would.

“I don’ know how ta say this…” He had you hanging off the edge of a cliff with dreaded suspense. His exterior was a nervous wreck, he chewed with irrational refuge at his thumb as he was lost in a purgatory of speechlessness. “I…, um.” He stuttered over his southern accent, shaking his head at himself. There was never a time that he couldn’t confide in you, so why was he suddenly so apprehensive? All he needed to do was ogle in the familiarity of your eyes, and then the torturing weight was removed from his chest. “I’m ready to be a father and you’ll be the best mother.” He confessed nervously with tenderness, his heart beating with pure and innocent love.

Each of the survivalist quirks that you had adapted throughout were attributes that Daryl adored about you - he had never perceived himself to be a man that would fall in love, but here he was, gouging the elated expression that had cracked unto the lines of your face with his eyes. In the swallowing depths of the devastating apocalypse, there was no need for labels, reciprocating live for one another was enough. It was rare and pure to have love like what you and Daryl shared even before the world had fallen into unmendable shambles, you were so very lucky on the planet that had been overtaken by the dead.

“I love you Dixon.” Your confidence had returned to your previously nervous bones, as you licked your top lip in a moment of sultry thought that would condemn you from entering a church without sunning, and the notion did not go unnoticed by Daryl. His piercing azure gaze imbedded wistful daggers into your naked tongue, which only prompted you to teasingly stroke it against your opposing lip. In little to no time the strong archer shot forwards, grappling your maternal hips in his sturdy hands as he fought effectively to suck your tongue into his own mouth.

He stroked it passionately with his own vocalising muscle, making your head spin from the excitable onslaught of thoughts of what was to come. Hopefully him inside of you, the filthy corners of your mind prayed like a desperate whore, as the prospect of growing his child within you hit your hormonal drive hard. The process of procreating the baby that you desired so much hadn’t even resonated as a priority as silly as it may have sounded. Just carrying that bundle of untarnished flesh and infant limbs would bring you joy enough, and fulfil all in life that you had assumed would surpass you. “Love ya too y/l/n.” He said as he broke away from the impactful, rhythmic collision course of your conjoined lips.

Daryl missed the feeling of them already, but he knew how your mind had a habit of running wild if it wasn’t grounded securely, and thus his palm steadied a hold upon your waist, pressing you’d chests obscurely close together. “Bedroom.” The word escapes you as an instinctive order, filling the brief break that hung in the air as you shared a heavy breath. With no coordination, your feet stumbled through your home, careful to keep some quiet on your intentional route as to not disturb the the kids from their slumbers. Somehow you had navigated yourselves to the room that was occupied by the bed that Daryl often held you in as you drifted off into a rest, and he closed the door in an attempt to be as silent as possible behind you both.

Being in here with a lustrous purpose awoke something inside of you; this could finally be it, the amorous event that turned you into a mother! There was nothing that could contain your excitement, including your comfortable cotton panties, you were pathetically soaked from the arousal that pooled with momentous desperation in your underwear. Your skin was boiling to the touch, and only Daryl would be aware of the flush temperature that your body was running. His large fingers brushed down your inner thighs, eliciting a shuddered gasp to puncture through the bared enforcement of your clenched teeth. It almost felt scandalous as you touched one another with an intention of more than sex.

The reality that had been nothing else but a tempted dream was to be possible, that was if you could in fact carry a child to full term. This was the fear talking as a devilsome voice in your head, there was no contending culprit, however the sadistic qualms that it brought up had a viable point. Those trained in the medical field were scarce to come by, and whilst there was a resident doctor in the Commonwealth, there were still the hurdles of limited medicines. It made sense that that you were becoming a worrier, you had been enduring the role of the strong yet cautious guardian for Judith and RJ in a time that felt so long that preventing any arising risks had almost become second nature to you.

“Don’ think about it sunshine.” Daryl knew you better than the back of his hand, and his observations of your overthinking behaviour had paid off, you could feel the weight from your shoulders fall as you listened to his words. They were soothing, a wave of calmness across the storm that crashed in your brain, a constant reminder that he would keep you and the living legacy of your old friend Rick Grimes alive. That was why you had fallen for the redneck in the first place, he was not only a loyal soldier whom was willing to risk his own life for his friends, but he also was your source of all reason. “Jus’ feel, don’t think.”

His words held a temptation that you couldn’t resist, as did the grip of his hands that swallowed the curve of your hips; there was hardly an occurrence that he could not hold you steady during, although the rare moment was creeping upon the two of you like the overhanging shade of a tree’s natural canopy. “Make me feel all of you then Daryl.” He did not restrain himself, you’d offered yourself to him, and he was never one to resist your body. There was a burning and wanton aggravation pooling in the destination of his chest, the archer lunged forwards with a distinctive growl.

The weight of his body launched yours back so that you were positioned on the mattresses just as the man wanted, laid out all vulnerable and ready for Daryl to prevail merch within your form. Simply the thought of impregnating you had the ability to make Daryl’s head dizzy, it was an arousing image to picture you full and round with his little redneck spawn. He already thought you were ethereally beautiful, but the prospect of you being the physical shelter for your human creation would transform you into a literal goddess. He was becoming rabid, like a starving animal that hadn’t eaten in weeks, and you were the only present source to quench his damning hunger.

The tip of his tongue tantalisingly stroked along the column of your throat; you looked intoxicatingly pretty beneath him, and Daryl was getting impatient with the long and drawn out foreplay. Your left breast was fondled in the side grasp of Daryl’s palm, and your face felt flush from the chaos whisked tsunami that rotated your blood within your body. All of this touching with no orgasmic outcome was making you not only disgruntled and impatient but lightheaded too. “I need you to put a baby in me.” You spoke with the intention of sounding dominant and full of copious confidence, however it escaped form you as a tender whimper. The tone that you had used seemed to spur Daryl on, prompting him to finally get to work.

Swift motions left you in a state of undress, distorted in the bare exposure of nudity that made Daryl fixated on every inch of your flesh. He kissed each limb, every scar until your shoulders were shuddering from suspense, and eventually his mouth drifted lower, causing your thighs to tremble. Daryl was face to face with your sopping centre, his eyes ogling at your perfectly constructed folds as he salivated from his own thirst to lather your sweet juices on his tastebuds. It felt like a precious moment to spark pleasure through each cell in your body; there was a chance that spilling his cum into your walls could depict a new path for the both of you - parenthood. Daryl needed to feel the breathtaking vice grip of your tight cunt squeezing his girthy cock, however it was his intention to make you already have the blissful aftershocks of an orgasm prior to him entering you.

This was your special moment, and you deserved to be treated like a queen during it. Lingering butterfly kisses were sporadically placed on the inside of your thighs, his teeth delicately scuffing on the meat of your legs, provoking your desires until you began thrusting your hips towards his face, trying to instigate Daryl into speeding up his loving touches until it escalated into something more. You must have been blessed with some kind of grace since Daryl stroked his slick tongue across your pussy, moaning onto your mound from your addictive wetness. Without any warning Daryl slithered a thick finger through your welcoming entrance, which made your skull fall defeatedly into the pillow that supported it.

It had been close to a fortnight from the last intimate instance that you and Daryl had exchanged, and that lacking span of time involving your sex life together had made you tight. Your pussy walls were hugging onto his singular digit as it worked its way in and out of you, refusing to release it in fear of having to survive without Daryl’s hands for another two weeks. That wouldn’t be the case in your present circumstance, the presence of his mouth joining in on the fun that his right index was having as his lips wrapped around his your clit vowed just as much. To observe that with a quietened moan and harsh bite to your lower lip, it was a signal to Daryl that you were enclosing to your high. It wouldn’t be long now, and adventurously he added another finger within you to be company for his other.

The stretch that his fingers made you feel almost had you in tears. You were already threading your hands through his wavy locks, tugging at the roots to express the sweet contortion of pleasure that belittled you. Daryl was a practised genius when it came to knowing the landscape of your body, his eyes gouged every reaction that he pulled from you into his memory. He was addicted to making you feel good, and so he acted begrudgingly with a forlorn huff as he withdrew his fingers from your heat. They were sewed with your own personal glaze, shiny from the interior of your count which he was eager to impale with his aching length. To be inside of you was an escape from the dystopian reality that mankind was haphazardly tossed into, and he relished in every break from it that he was able to spend with you.

“Daryl!” The meandering frustration spewed out from your mouth which the man half atop of you adored, but his reflexes were fast enough to cause him to slap his hand over your mouth, aware that your noise was a risk of waking the sleeping children in the household. They were far too young for the talk, and Daryl ironically felt the same when it came to explaining it. He wasn’t a father… not yet anyway, and it felt almost intrusive to be the one as to decide when Judith and RJ had adult activities explained to them. He’d rather get on with being their remaining guardian than stepping into the shoes of their father whom had been a dead friend of his. He hoped the same as you that Rick was alive, and in the case of that, he would reserve the dreaded talk for him.

“Ya gotta be quiet peach.” Daryl reminded you, foreseeing the morning that followed the current eve where you would be kicking yourself if your whines sparked curiosity upon Judith. He gently released his clasp that his palm had over your mouth, softly running his moist thumb across the area of your bottom lip, vigilantly slipping it to be resting on your tongue. You suckled delicately on the calloused pad of flesh, staring with faux innocence that drove him mad. “Think yer cute, don’ cha?” The rasp of his voice rumbled in his chest as he leant down, allowing his lips to mumble against your flesh. “You’re real fuckin’ cute sunshine, look even cuter when I fuck our baby inta ya.” There was no room for him to deny it now; he had without a singular doubt thought about beating you with the gift of a child previously, if not multiple.

Daryl could be guarded at times, but even if he wasn’t vocal about the runnings of his mind, his actions always showed that he cared. There’d been nobody that he could open up pre-apocalypse, not even Merle as he had had the habit of oversharing his judgemental opinions without concern for upsetting the feelings of others. But with you, he could lower his walls and still feel safe. He was enamoured by the beauty of your soul, he felt like the luckiest man alive to have you by his side. You were like an angel whom was stripped of her wings and forced to walk among the walkers and remaining humans.

“Do it.” You begged desperately once he had removed his thumb from its balance on your tongue, tears pricking with threat in your eyes. “Please, please, please fuck me Dar.” Whilst your words were sharp with gouging intent for Daryl to mercilessly rail your insides into orgasmic obliteration, your tone was hushed, since you knew that the bowman would force you to wait even longer if you ushered above a whispered sound. And if that were to be the prevailing sentence which you served, then you would surely combust. You could not wait any longer, and so you could do no more than continue your symphony of begging. “Jus- just need you to cum inside me and keep filling me up ‘til you knock me up. I need to carry your baby…”

The world was spinning, your dream consciously making every avid sound cascade with profuse focus in your eardrums. The metallic clank that riveted around the room had your bloodstream flowing with wild vigour; it was the noise of Daryl unbuckling and discarding his belt, the rugged sight of witnessing him undress causing another wave of lustful discharge to lather your lady parts. Your own body was on instinct preparing itself to physically wield his mushroom tipped length within its walls, and you were grateful for that, seeing as his wife girth to this day after countless times of fucking throughout your years of companionship still took adjusting to.

His scarred flesh became uncovered as he stripped piece by piece of tethered clothing, the old marks strained atop of his skin in the gloomy shadows of the room. Daryl was aware of them, but only vacantly in your presence. As he shoved his boxers and utile trousers down and off his hips, he rose his head to be glowering at you. But it wasn’t with dominance, it was a fluorescence of tranquil ice blue that heart-fully admired each minor aspect of your appearance; from the crinkles created from expressions of joy on your face to the speckles of randomly dotted freckles around your pores (some of which were so minuscule that he had to squint as though he were looking through a telescope), Daryl always felt like his breath had been taken away each time that he turned his head in your direction.

It didn’t help that you were as naked as the first day of when humans began to roam the earth, your flaws were bare to the eye as were the streaked memories of past injuries. Those very scars however were evidence that throughout the difficult hardships that you had been cruelly handed before and after the dead had risen in ungodly ways, you remained. There had been no justice, and some all at the same time; the sick minded individuals that had strewn chaos upon the surviving communities as though they were swimming through oxygen had met the dire consequences of their dictating actions. Vengeance that you and Daryl and others had rationed out was never swiftly executed, despite earning victories with expenses, none of you had got away without more than scrapes. Immense torture contaminated you all mentally and physically - a harsh line was sharply drawn from the thinner flesh along your rib cage, the violent line work meeting at the middle section of your sternum.

It was one of many marks that you carried, however the biggest mark you had was on your heart. It was like Daryl had precisely struck you through the heart as though he was Cupid with one of his crossbow bolts, he had tainted your affection towards him without even having to try, he had just been himself and that was the best version of him that there was. He had changed and that was for certain, but you would be concerned if he hadn’t after all the shit you’d faced. You weren’t the same person either, the thick and thin of your triumphs moulded an armour of resilience. In the past life that you had lived you had held no priorities of mothering children, you had ensured through reliable contraception and carefulness that the possibility would not present itself.

It was made that in an ended world that your desires could shift so dramatically, it was the unexpected that forced you to carry on towards a brighter future. And that path was in the process of being mapped out, there was no blueprint, only two bodies that could harmoniously create another. Flesh on flesh when it came to the living was a profound risk for conception, there were methods that you and Daryl followed previously that had complied to avoiding the inevitable that meandered the both of you away from being parents. Now all of that wasn’t necessary, you had earned yourselves a grand slice of piece, and this was it.

“Ya ready sunshine?” The chalky rasp of his voice gently pried as he shifted to manoeuvre atop of you on the simple bed, his eyes that held years worth of every emotion that silently telling you that it was okay if you changed your mind or wanted to reschedule your sexual efforts of conceiving. Rather than speak straight away, you ran your hand across his curved hip, the notion was intimate as you reached to grasp his pulsating cock in your palm, softly applying pressure as you twisted your wrist in motions to grant Daryl a rush of adrenaline throughout his nether regions. He bared his teeth as he hissed, infinitely having flashbacks to the first time you had manhandled him.

“Yeah. I think that we’re both ready Dixon.” You had always had a smart mouth, and Daryl huffed and rolled his eyes at the little ‘innocent’ giggle that you had gifted his ears with. He moved to brush his thighs against your own as he reevaluated his position of straddling you, pulling your legs apart so that he could slot his body straight between them. Your centre was enchanting to his aching erection, and Daryl could not await any longer. He had been diversely patient, and somehow had managed to control himself all through it. Daryl held his length in his dominant hand, running the engorged tip along the outskirts of your vulva and dragging the head around your clit.

It made you squirm frivolously under Daryl as he sweetly teased you to make sure that you were ready to take him. But your words put a stopper to his tantalising game, and finally give each of you what you were hungering for. “Put it in Dar, please. I fucking need you inside me so bad.” Whilst your voice was not loud it spoke volumes to Daryl’s brain, and finally he prodded his cock at your slick entrance, taking his time sliding into you. The twitch of your cunt’s trembling walls as he began to sheathe his girth into you was making your lover lightheaded, you were so tight and it derived animalistic and strung out groans from his warm throat.

He had sank so deeply into your cervix that you were already feeling close, it was heaven to feel so full. His sternly knuckled fists framed a bracket on either side of your face, his hair was draped and hanging down like the branches of a soulful willow tree, some of the sun kissed strands tickled at your nose. Your hands found their resting placement on the bouldering structure of his defined shoulders, the nails on your fingers leaving indented crescent moon shapes on his skin in their wake. There was no distance in between your abdomens as you were pressed together, your legs tangled around Daryl’s waist, appreciating the motionless moment that you were sharing.

“Gonna move now,” Daryl made you aware so that you would not be surprised by his administrative thrusts that would undoubtedly churn a pool of ecstatic pleasure in the pit of your stomach. The crossbow archer leant slightly back, dragging his wide cock closer to the exit of your pussy, you grappled with needy loss and misery at his muscled arms, wantonly needing him to return to reaching the sensitive spot inside of you. Your agonisingly aroused pleas and prayers were answered when Daryl pivoted forwards, knocking all oxygen out from your lungs as you frustratedly chewed your bottom lip, needing to scream out and wail his name but knowing that you couldn’t.

He had started a pace, one that was not too fast or too slow. He was quite literally rocking your world, obscuring your vision with dizzying light spots in the corners of your eyesight, as you laid there restlessly, your nerves indignantly contorting the control that you had on your own limbs. Daryl chose to handle the battle that your legs were putting on his own terms, raising your legs in the air so that he could wind your ankles around the behind of his neck. One of his large veined hands sloped onto your calf, holding you captive by your own free will whilst his tense balls roughly slapped against your ass.

From the altering of your intimate position, the upper half of your body was pinned flat upon the mattress, your hands now empty of Daryl’s broad shoulders. Your torso and above it was completely on display for Daryl to appreciate, and to distort his beaded pupil focus even further, you teasingly cupped your breasts that wee already bouncing with perkish sin. Daryl’s tongue stroked his dry lip, as he tried to refrain from insulting any expectation that you had held onto for the length of your creative lovemaking session. “Y-y/n, I ain’t gonna-“ With an outstretched arm, you grabbed his bicep with as much strength that you could muster, frantically nodding your head in muted agreement.

“Me too honey.” Your strained sentence fell gracefully from your lips in the same smooth fashion as an upturned sand timer, the grains of your bliss swiftly contracted within your centre, strangling Daryl’s struggling cock with the labours of your orgasm. “Fuck.” You stuttered out as your eyes crossed and then closed, causing you to accidentally miss the state that Daryl was in; flushed temples, dripping sweat and a crinkled nose from trying to hold off his inevitable release. He almost pulled out on methodic impulse, but remembering what this was all for compelled him to refrain. And so, once the aftershocks of your high hand roused you into an ordeal of sensitivity, he let go.

Rope after rope of his release entered your maternal system, it was the first time that he had ever down so, and Daryl realised that he would never be able to cum elsewhere every again. He’d give you a million babies if it meant he got to do it every time. “Holy shit.” Daryl moaned with your legs still around his neck. He laid his chest atop of you, nuzzling his face against your collarbone. You laughed lightly and breathlessly whilst combing your fingertips through his hair. “Ain’t nothing holy about it baby.” You countered, watching astoundingly as he raised his head and your eyes met. “Same time tomorrow?” You queried, feeling hopeful at the prospect of something new and in the shape of a newborn.

There was nothing left to live for in this estranged life where infection was not the greatest risk, being mauled apart by walkers was, or the graphically dark libation of execution. You had to find some light that would make your eyes shine with illuminated happiness until you died, otherwise none of the consequential hurdles were worth the masterful sorrow that they had eternally etched behind your eyes. It all had to stand for something; the possibility of not only having a future but also creating one for the younger generations. You would do anything for the child that was not yet formed in your womb, nothing would happen to them on Daryl’s or your own account. Whenever they presented themself as a life form inside of you, it would be the peace that you and Daryl had each searched for even before the outbreak.

[mythblossoms]

nebula

pairing: caleb x gn!reader content: first! kiss!, yearning & down bad caleb and reader, light teasing, nicknames (pip-squeak), two dummies (affectionate) in love, loose EPIC/Odyssey reference because it's me a/n: double posting today to BECAUSE IT IS LOVE DAY and this is dedicated to beloved @spiderlilypetals - happy valentine's day, i think you deserve the world and sweet nights cuddled up and looking at the stars ;u; wc: 1.6k

Solar systems begin with the collapse of a nebula, swirling clouds of dust and gas expanding, swelling, building until caving in on itself. Waves of energy rippling across space and time, clinging to the remnants and tugging them in and forming a new home.

Funny, Caleb thinks, that this is what loving you feels like. 

Years spent memorizing the way your lips quirk up into a smile when he teases, the way you bit your lip when you were upset, how your eyes sparkled  when sharing some new interest — moments building something in his heart until it caved in on itself and you became the center of his universe, the brightest star with the strongest pull, keeping him stable but spinning.

“Any one home?” your voice broke through the churning cloud of thoughts encasing his mind like a bright light, the slight nudge of his knee with your foot grounding him — as you sat curled up on your couch. “Is someone getting too sleepy?” 

He grinned at you, lightly grabbing your ankle and squeezing. These light touches were familiar, safe. Contact that came easily after years of knowing each other. “Me? I wasn’t the one who stayed up late last night looking up best claw machine tactics.” 

“Well, at least one of us is trying,” you scoffed, tucking cold toes under his thighs and crossing your arms. “Your skills are getting rusty. Might have to revoke your arcade membership.”

“Don’t pout, pip-squeak —” his hand grazed your knee before settling on the back of the couch, another barely there touch that sent a ripple of energy towards his heart. “Pretty sure those new plushies on your bed came from your very dedicated co-pilot.”

“You can’t always use your evol, you know.” You poked your tongue out at him. “It’s cheating.”

It was easy like this, hidden under the familiarity of teasing and the safety of nostalgia. You would laugh, poke him in the cheek, make some silly joke at his expense. And he would collect this moment, another star in the galaxy of you. 

“And I’ll do it again,” he grinned. “Anything for you.” Only for you. 

You yawned then, the late hour truly not lost on either of you. Your hands stretching above your head, the collar of his old sweatshirt loose on your shoulder. 

“Remember the time we hung all those glow in the dark stars in my room?” You leaned in, head resting on your knees. Wistfulness lingered in your eyes, and Caleb’s heart stuttered - the gravitational pull of your gaze that strong. 

And how could he forget. All day spent arranging those stars in different paths across your ceiling, every pillow, blanket, and plushie to be found pulled into a massive pile on the floor. The night spent creating stories about constellations found in the patterns crisscrossing the ceiling. The pale green glow of the stars reflected in your eyes, the atoms hovering in the smallest space between the two of you humming with the energy of a combusting star. A night sky for just the two of you. A memory so ingrained that he could feel that weighted charge clinging to his skin. 

“What, you think I’d forget that?” He pinched your chin gently. “Someone wasn’t tall enough to put them on the ceiling so I had to do all the hard work”. He waited for the eye roll, the huff that would surely follow or the pillow that would be tossed his way. Safe he thought, easy.

The energy in the room had shifted, perhaps in the way you had looked at him or in some memory that had reawakened. The comfortable silence now thrumming in time with his beating heart. He wondered, briefly, could hear it? You sighed, wrapping your hand delicately around his, offering a gentle squeeze. “I miss it.”

Did you know the effect you had on him? Eyes closing as you relived the memory, fingers threading delicately with his. “I miss it being just me, and you, pretending like the stars were meant for us.” Caleb would pull every star out of the sky and hang it in your room, if it meant you were happy, if it meant your hand entwined perfectly with his.

“We don’t have to pretend anymore,” he said gently, his eyes speaking every word that drowned on his tongue. Simultaneously hoping you felt the weight of his words, wishing you would stay in your reverie. He moved imperceptibly closer, hovering on the boundary of what was familiar. “We could grab some blankets and look at the stars now.” His voice just above a whisper, the softness masking the slight quiver in his words. 

You hummed, a soft content sound, squeezing his hand - a slight glimmer in your barely open eyes. “Don’t forget our plushies.”

Your balcony had become your very own cozy fort. Big pillows carefully arranged against the windows of your apartment, every blanket you owned layered up, plushies propped up in the optimal stargazing seat — and Caleb sat next to you. The warmth of his leg pressed against yours, the chilly night a distant memory. He was safety, a constant comfort entangled in your life - never just you, or just Caleb, but you and Caleb. 

From here, the bright city lights hid most of the stars from view, only the brightest peeking out from their inky blanket. “I never thought it would be so hard to see the stars in the city,” you sighed curling into the blanket, pulling it up to your chin. “No stars means no stories.” 

Caleb grinned then. “Are you sure? Look-” he pointed to two stars that shone brightly - directly across from each other in the night sky. “You don’t know the story of the man who couldn’t return home?”

He was always better at this, the lightheartedness, the ease in offering something to you. Even back then, pulling stories from nothing just to make you smile. And of course you did. Earnest hands pointing to each plastic star, words energetically tumbling out, his own warm smile. Could he see warmth dusting your cheeks then? The way your eyes widened with each knock of his knee? 

His voice brought you back, the simplicity of a story much like before, but this time his voice was softer, the words more delicate. “Every time he tried to get home, some new obstacle blocked his path. Monsters and mayhem — but each time he would use his strength in strategies and calculations to pass them.” 

You leaned in, enraptured, eyes focused on him as he gazed up at the night sky. “And each time he felt like it was too much, like giving up - he only had to think of her. His guiding light. His constant - always together, always tethered. No matter what happens, he would stop at nothing to be by her side. “

Truths always lie hidden in stories - offering a semblance of reality. You could feel that here too, tonight. Time had stopped, or was it moving too quickly? Outside your balcony everything was a blur, here it was just you and Caleb. 

“Did he ever get home?” you barely heard your own voice. 

He finally looked at you, brows knit together in some unreadable expression. “He did, but things weren’t the same. All those things he did to get home had changed him.”

Your fingers found his, easily - simply. Fitting together as they always had. “But she loved him all the same.”

You felt it now, the restraint. The way Caleb held his breath, how his body stilled. His eyes the only thing betraying him — flicking from yours, to your lips, down to your clasped hands. The soft sound of surprise that escaped him. A bundle of energy bound so tightly it threatened to implode. 

“He was always hers too, right? Time can’t change that.” You moved closer, angling your head closer to his - warm breath against his cool cheek. “It’s always going to them.” It was always going to be Caleb and you.

The space between you felt too large, too charged with an energy that bound you and Caleb together. Closing the distance, you placed a tentative kiss on his jaw. His hand squeezed yours tighter, eyes fluttering shut — a slow shaky exhale released, as he leaned just slightly into your touch. 

“Is this okay-” you hummed into the tender part of his neck. The flutter of his heartbeat strumming against the soft of your lips. 

“More than okay,” he said hoarsely, fingers still laced tightly with yours — grounded in familiarity in the face of this gravitational shift.

“Okay,” you smiled, pinching his chin with your other hand - flitting small kisses against the length of his jaw and angling his lips towards yours. The space between so small but electric, sparking against the sensitive skin. He murmured your name, soft and pleading, before your lips met his. 

Kissing Caleb felt like the universe had exploded - stars and cosmic dust swirling between as gravity rearranged, realigning into a place that was you and him and this moment only. Something new yet familiar. His hands once hesitant now desperate pulling you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you, kisses becoming rushed, tongue tentatively brushing against yours.

Letting go was harder, Caleb chasing after your mouth - planting small kisses to your chin, the corners of your mouth.

“Just wait,” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours. “Don’t move.” 

You ran your fingers through his hair, drawing lazy circles at the nape of his neck. “Why?”

“If you move, I’m worried I’ll wake up and this will all be some dream.” He whispered into your skin, hands playing with the ends of your hair. 

Cradling his jaw, you moved him towards you again - kissing the worried space between his brows, the outer corners of his eyes, then lightly on lips. “I’m here.” Then, with a soft pinch of his chin again, “This is real.”

[saixria]

The ICHBW live stream animatic is hitting me hard hours after the fact I’m not a crier but I’m actually tearing up. Now I can fully articulate what I love about Athena’s part. Athena’s character came together so well I love it and I think the visuals combined with a day more of thinking + discussing with friends really helped me better understand everything. Those last 90 seconds of ICHBW was the BEST PART OF THE ENTIRE SHOW. Ridiculously long Athena character analysis under the cut which quickly devolves into thematic discussion lmao

First of all, the expressions they have on the animatic makes it abundantly clear that ody and Athena weren’t separated. HER SMILE!! HER LIGHTNING SCAR!! ODYSSEUS’ EXPRESSION SOFTENED TO A SMILE AFTER GETTING OUT OF QUICK THOUGHT!! Odysseus definitely pieced together what she did for her right then, there’s no other reason for Jorge to show Athena showing Odysseus that scar otherwise. It’s like they immediately slid back into place like puzzles pieces even after 10 years. They’ve been changed in completely opposite ways. Odysseus the mortal has been turned to be less human, more ruthless, while Athena the immortal goddess has been turned to be more human, more empathetic. The latter partially because of Odysseus. Tbh Athena ever showing her face to Odysseus after My Goodbye and saying “I can’t help but feel like I’ve led you astray” is as close to an apology as it’s gonna get LMAO. The unresolved WOTM melody in the end is actually because their story together hasn’t ended, it’s because Odysseus doesn’t have to be her warrior of the mind anymore.

I once said that open arms is more than mercy, but treating the world kindly to lead to kinder souls down the road, to change the world for the better, and it holds true even more now. Odysseus is too tired for this. He’s just a man, he knows a better world is possible but he can no longer be a part of it. He can’t witness the better world in his short mortal lifetime, he just wants his happy ending with his wife. He doesn’t want to be Athena’s warrior of the mind anymore, and that’s ok. And yet, and yet he knows it is possible. He needs it to be possible, and he needs Athena to make it possible. Athena accepts it with a soft “very well”. That doesn’t mean they won’t ever see each other again, just that they no longer have that obligation of mentor-student, they’re just two old friends. They can rebuild their relationship slowly but surely with what they have.

Telemachus is the Warrior of the Mind now (AHHHHHH HIS ATHENA CAPE AND HELMET I LOVE HIS UPGRADE). From here, Telemachus and Athena are gonna truly fulfill Athena’s mission of “making a greater tomorrow” except it isn’t to turn the world more logical and ruthless like she once thought, but to make the world more empathetic and kind — she’s finally found what she was fighting for. Perhaps this is why the WOTM melody in God Games ended with Legendary — Telemachus is the new warrior of the mind. Odysseus fought for a world where his son can be safe and grow up kind and he succeeded in that. Far from war, Telemachus grew up able to afford kindness and empathy while also retaining the ability to be ruthless in face of obstacles — and now he can use this to change the world to Athena’s new ideal — where people held each other with more empathy — as Athena’s new Warrior of the Mind.

Athena’s verse existing is a sign of her reconciliation with Odysseus (in character might I add! I don’t think they’re the type to express their affection so easily, they know each other so we’ll that they just know), so instead her verse is there to expand on the show’s theme as I will be talking about next.

I absolutely adore the depth Athena’s ICHBW verse adds to the thesis of the show. I’ve always thought of epic as mostly being about how it was best to strive for a balance between ruthlessness and open arms, but circumstances only allowed Odysseus to become ruthless which was tragic, while different circumstances allowed Telemachus to be both. But it’s not just that. Sure it’s good to have a balance between the two ideaologies but what if we could make a world where ruthlessness wasn’t needed at all? What if we could be unconditionally kind and be treated with kindness in return instead of taken advantage of or hurt? Where, when given the choice between open arms and ruthlessness, people would choose open arms? It wasn’t possible for these characters, but it could happen someday in the future. If Athena and Telemachus can work towards that future so can we. So should we, considering we’re in a much better place compared to them. A friend of mine said this was a call to action to us in the present and I just. Have not been able to stop thinking about it.

Athena has always thought in “maybes” about her purpose. from WOTM to My Goodbye we’ll be fine to ICHBW. “Maybe one day…” -> “One day you’ll…” -> “maybe if I…” -> “what if…” it’s like she’s representing the future, the “greater tomorrow” of what could be, because as Odysseus said, she’s immortal and she will live to see it and change it. Circe saga has something similar — “Maybe showing one act of kindness leads to kinder souls down the road”, “maybe one day the world will need a puppeteer no more, or maybe one day the world will need a puppeteer more”. The connection of these hypotheticals “maybe one day” with a future world that could possibly be changed for the better by spreading kindness and open arms extends from Athena’s songs to There are Other Ways, one of the only times in the musical where, when Circe could choose between ruthlessness and mercy, she chose to show mercy and help them in hopes of spreading kindness to the world and making the world a slightly better place — aka a scenario that showed how unconditional kindness, “open arms”, could work, for kindness isn’t the inability to be cruel but choosing kindness even when you have the choice not to be. “Kindness is brave”, like Polites said.

Because of her immortality, Athena is the character who’s most connected to “time” in the musical with her time-related abilities like “time dive”, making people think quicker, having a domain essentially outside of time and space… She doesn’t just have a connection with the future but also the past. As someone who lives forever, she is the one who can connect the past, learning from past mistakes, to change the future: “To fall is to learn one way”.

Speaking of her connection to time, You can almost see that at one point Athena was the narrator of the story (see cut songs: full speed ahead demo and Ismarus) like Hamilton’s Burr: simultaneously an observer and a participant of the story. In the animatic of ICHBW she’s overseeing everything happening from her hour glass, wondering out loud from a meta perspective about the themes of the show, hypotheticals of what a different story, a different world could have looked like, and bringing everything to a close. It really feels like Athena is who’s gonna “live and tell their story” as per Hamilton, as always has been the case from burrthena narration days of Old Epic. She’s not just the bridge between the past and future but also between the story and the audience, by bringing up these themes on a meta level to directly tell the audience to make the world a kinder place, because we have the choice, unlike Odysseus who can only choose to accept his actions and move forward. Because she lives forever she can carry on their memories forever. She can keep telling their story over and over again to remind herself and others to change the world by showing empathy and open arms, and she will keep telling this story to us until ruthlessness is no longer needed in the world. The world where this is possible is not theirs but OURS. It is WE who have the chance to choose between ruthlessness and open arms and the show is telling us that, when we have this choice and aren’t forced to be ruthless, to always choose kindness and empathy. Like Circe, like Telemachus. So that we may impart some kindness unto the world and make it a better place.

“Maybe one day we’ll reach them and we’ll make a greater tomorrow then they’ll see I know we’ll change the world cuz we are the warriors of the mind!” — yes, they have reached us. We are all also warriors of the mind, doing our part to change the world for the better, to be kinder.

To me, one part of Athena’s character that’s never clicked for me was her motivation in WOTM. “Make a greater tomorrow” “we’ll change the world” why? How? What’s the point of including this in her song when it’s never come back up again? Now with the ICHBW verse, everything is tied up with a beautiful ribbon. She has always wanted to change the world for the better, and now she’s finally found out how — to spread empathy and Open Arms — and it’s inspired by the desire to help her friends, to prevent what happened to Odysseus from happening again, honoring him, just as how Odysseus tried to embrace Open Arms to honor his dead friends’ memories.

All in all, I’ve grown to genuinely really really like Athena’s verse in ICHBW. It’s so short but so effective at conveying so much. I hope that made sense bc it’s more a compilation of thoughts I had rather than a structured essay. Perhaps one day I will restructure this into a proper essay but not today for after all I’m- *gets shot