#fuck this. justice for Aiden

[dicktat]

Techland has announced that a stand alone entry featuring Crane as the protagonist will be replacing the DLC2 we’re promised at gamescon

Actual opinion below (very strong language)

Absolutely fuck this. We have been promised for two years for a DLC2 continuing Aiden’s story. Instead they completely ditched him and favored bringing another character back. Does it not sound insane to you that a DLC originally supposed to be about Dying Light TWO was repurposed to be another entry for the previous game. What even was the purpose of the story? What happened to the supporting characters? What happened to five year support for DL2? As far as I know DL2 has been scrapped in favor of a nostalgic cash grab and Techland didn’t even bother giving the second entry of a game to redeem itself. I feel deceived.

[lukewarmoverthinker]

havnt seen season four. i’ve seen how people are feeling about it. i want to puke. i will watch it after i get over my five stages of grief. excuse me while i cry myself to sleep tonight. FUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKK

[fanfictilltheend]

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

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

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

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

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

Word Count: ~13k

PART 1

AO3 Link

Violent Heart Masterlist

Full Masterlist of all my work

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel grins.

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

***

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

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

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

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

Joel’s face flattens.

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

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

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

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

Joel examines your face, looks deep into your eyes.

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

You smile to yourself.

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

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

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

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

You open your mouth, but Joel beats you.

“And that’s that,” he insists. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you truly do appreciate the sentiment. 

***

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

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

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

You nod off.

***

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

Typical.

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

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

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

Sweat drenches your whole body as you come down. 

God, you are so fucked.

***

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

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

And then you realize: that something is you.

You grin back.

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

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

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

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

“Thanks so much,” you tell him.

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

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

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

The butterflies in your chest howl. 

***

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

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

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

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

Joel rolls his eyes.

“Show me what you’ve got.”

***

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

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

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

“Jeez,” you reply.

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

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

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

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

He backs away and you whine internally at the loss.

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

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

You look into Joel’s eyes.

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

Joel watches you intently, sitting up straighter. 

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

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

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

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

You blush. 

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

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

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

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

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

You sit back up straight.

“You did? I never knew that.”

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

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

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

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

“Right here.”

***

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

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

“Looking good, old-timer.”

He snorts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was that Joel flirting? With you?

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

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

***

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

“ Christ, you look beautiful, babygirl.”

***

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

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

“Joel,” Joel replies flatly, eyeing Max.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Max frowns ever so slightly. 

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

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

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

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

Max’s cheeks turn a bit pink.

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

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

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

“Joel–”

“Who said I wasn’t?” Max sneers. 

That makes you feel a bit better. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Max never loses. 

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

You know it’s over then.

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

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

You shiver and Max positively cowers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel flinches.

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

He stares at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then Joel is breaking away from you slowly.

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you,” you whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

“Me too,” you giggle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That okay?”

“Yes,” you whine. “Want more, Daddy.”

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

“Sorry…” you mumble. “I–”

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

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

He snickers. 

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

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

That’s good because you’re positively drenched.

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

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

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

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

Joel looks flabbergasted. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Daddy,” you whine.

“Enough, little one,” Joel whispers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Daddy,” you nod, snickering. 

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

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

You grin, but then your face falls. 

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

Max hates your hair down there.

Joel looks at you in confusion.

He laughs, his face scrunching up.

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

You shiver.

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You happily fall backward. 

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

He bites your lips roughly and you groan against him.

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

“Yeah, duh, Daddy,” you snicker.

As if he even needs to say it! 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Daddy. Only yours.”

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

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

“Only Daddy.”

“Only you.”

“Good girl,” he growls.

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

“Joel,” you whine. “Oh my God.”

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

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

inside your body.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Joel does stop for a moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pauses, sweat glistening on his brow, sneering.

“You really want harder?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When your words come back you reply,

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m serious,” he snickers.

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You think about it for a second.

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

He pauses, both his words and fingerpicking. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PART 1

PART 3 (coming soon)

Violent Heart Masterlist

Full Masterlist of all my work

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@lunpycatavenue

[dragonbard-bastard]

This took me three days to finish and I just about lost my mind. I really like the idea of Aiden exploring his faith/religion and eventually doing so alongside Gale. Also he has his own cat alongside Tara, who is just my irl cat Bowser.

Transcript and close ups will be below the cut!

"To follow a God is to devote your life to them for a better afterlife. What happens to the Godless, then, is less than ideal."

"Then the question becomes... What God is worthy of my devotion, my life?"

"Some are easy for me to rule out"

"Shar, a deity taking advantage of sadness and grief to manipulate her followers, to make escape impossible,"

"and I fucking hate the 'mother of all magic' Mystra."

"I want to be with Gale in this life and the next, though. I'll talk to him about researching more Gods with me. His faith in Mystra has wavered- I'm happy to see him recognize his own worth. Either way he would likely enjoy the learning."

"Some of the deities aren't so bad..."

"Ilmater, for example. Perseverance through suffering, helping others during hard times. That means something to me. I understand it."

"Of course the Dragon God of Justice, Bahamut, speaks to me too."

"There's Bahamut's humanoid counterpart, Tyr, the Maimed God of Justice."

"or Selûne, who's daughter brought light back to the shadow-cursed lands."

"Lathander, who's blood empowered a mace we used during our journey to defeating the brain. (The mace should have been a morningstar though.*)"

"If Milil hadn't been ejected from the pantheon this decision would be simpler. Musical prayer sounds right up my alley."

"I can think about death tomorrow, today is simply about living."

* Its a mace. right. it's classified as that in the game but they're really similar things

Bowser, by the way

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Can we get a ♡ "hey, hey, you're alright! it's okay, just calm down" with Lambert trying to calm down Aiden panicking when they have to cross deeper waters (thalassophobia? maybe they get stranded?), if you want to :)

Hope I did the prompt justice!!

Lambert finished tying his kit to Aiden's horse, freeing his own up to carry both Witchers before glancing over at the other. The Cat hadn't moved an inch in the last ten minutes, posture rigid as he stared at the wide, deep river with an expression suggesting he'd rather chew his own hand off whilst fear came off him in waves (which in turn hadn't made Lambert's task any easier seeing as it was making the horses skittish). It wasn't an ideal solution, but with the only bridge for miles in either direction having been washed away they had no choice - it was either this or add days onto a contract they desperately needed the coin from.

"Alright, everything's secure. You ready?"

"No. But the quicker we start the quicker we'll get to the other side right?" Aiden said, edging towards where Lambert was tethering both horses together like he was making his way to the chopping block, "So...how are we doing this. You in front, me in front...?"

"I have a bit of an idea. You trust me?"

"Stupid question. You know I do."

They'd barely even entered the water before Aiden's breathing was picking up, arms squeezing around Lambert's waist. It has taken a little manoeuvring but they'd ended up with Aiden sat in front, legs thrown over Lambert's as he sat facing towards him, the Wolf figuring it might help if Aiden had something (or in this case, someone) else to focus on besides the water separating them from the opposite bank.

Aiden bit back a whimper when the water reached the tops of their legs and by the time they reached the middle and both horses had had to resort to actually swimming across rather than wading Lambert was pretty sure the Cat had forgotten how to breathe.

Lambert let go of the reins, gripping tight with his thighs against the current as he wrapped both arms around Aiden. The other clearly hadn't been exaggerating his dislike of deep water but as far as Lambert was concerned he was totally justified. Having your village caught up in a flash flood as a kid and then spending three days clinging to the branches of a tall tree waiting for the water to recede whilst surrounded by various beasties making the most of the corpses (including those of your friends and family) and anyone feeling desperate enough to try and swim for it would definitely do that to a person.

He rubbed Aiden's back in what he hoped was a soothing manner, trying to banish the tremors running through the others body and also trying not to wince as Aiden's grip on him grew uncomfortably tight.

"Hey, hey, you're alright! It's okay, just calm down." He said, cursing internally at the little yelp Aiden let slip when their mount got caught in an undertow, briefly dunking all three of them below the surface.

"Aiden. Aiden, look at me." The Cat did as he was asked, eyes wide in panic, "We're over halfway, it's ok. You're ok. But I really need you to calm down and breathe for me before you pass out, alright. Breathe with me."

Aiden shook his head, "Can't."

"Yes, you can." Lambert tightened his hold on Aiden briefly, "I've got you. I'm not going to let anything happen. Just look at me, focus on me." He started taking deeper breaths, Aiden shakily trying to mimic him.

"That's it, you got it. Good Aiden, keep doing that. And we made it."

"Huh?" Aiden dared to glance down and sure enough the water was now only up to their ankles and getting lower as their horse picked its way up and out.

"You did it." Lambert pressed a quick kiss to Aiden's cheek, "Proud of you, Kitten. You doing ok?"

"I will be as soon as this fucking river is out of sight." He rest his forehead against Lambert's chest, "Please don't tell me we're going to have to do that on the way back too."

"It's...not unlikely?" Lambert tried, wincing as he tried his best to sound apologetic but knew it probably just came out more sarcastic, "You want me to stop and let you down?"

"Nope!" Aiden bought his legs up to wrap around Lambert's waist for emphasis.

Lambert chuckled, pressing another kiss to the top of Aiden's head this time, "Fair enough." After facing one of his worst fears, Aiden was entitled to all the cuddles he wanted and Lambert was more than happy to oblige.

[daintylotusflower]

The Hunt: Epilogue ONE

The Strategist - Asher Carson

We had to move rather quickly, as the place was getting crowded by now. Not just because we arrived, but also because of the saved girls who really needed to get away from this horror place.

Volkov and Kyle were quick, professionals, as expected, when hurrying everyone into secure cars and hurrying everyone to drive off. Naturally none of the fathers and sons wanted to leave their daughters and girlfriends alone, so it was a cozy family trip driving outside of the city.

Everyone needed some fresh air to breathe, though a few amongst them didn’t have lungs to live anymore.

I looked at Killian through the mirror while driving. 
King’s daughter was seated on his lap, head buried in his neck. She was asleep, or fainted from all the exhaustion. 

Poor girl.

The last days were sure a nightmare for her but the happenings from the last hours must’ve truly knocked her out.

„LANDON DON’T“

It was Levi King’s voice that echoed from the other room when we just stepped into the playfield of the devil. Aiden was quick to interrupt his bickering with Kyle to rush to his cousin and nephew.


His nephew, a tall brunette copy of Levi King, was standing in the middle of the room and shot a man that was captured and beaten, right between his eyes.

He was breathing like an angry bull, his body tensed and his eyes… hollow.

Aiden rushed to his side with his cousin and they quickly took away the gun.


„Landon! This won’t —“

„Nothing, will bring her back“ I felt the hair on my neck standing up.. he sounded like..

He sounded like fucking Arianna.
Empty, soulless and ..gone

I heard about the King men and their lack of emotions and ..heart.. Aiden has been a long-life friend and I witnessed him and his son with my own eyes but this.. this was entirely different.

Aiden was a ruthless son-of-a-bitch but he still had humanity in him. He was maybe -okay most definitely - not sharing the same moral compass as the rest of the world, but he had some.

But Landon King ? He looked like the epitome of anarchy and doom at this very moment.

„What’s going on here?“, Kyle entered the room and looked at the dead man like it was another piece of trash in the hallway.

Volkov entered too, hands in his pocket. He looked around rather calculative and somewhat annoyed by the fact that he had to leave his daughter’s side to come here.

Kyle stepped closer.

„Landon? King? What’s going on?“

Something was off, when Aiden pulled Landon away by his neck and Levi held his arms back when he tried to free himself from his uncle.

They both rushed out of the room but not before Landon was yelling at them to show the prove.

Prove?

Prove for what?

Glyndon stirred in her sleep, her fingers gripping into Killian’s chest. She was having a nightmare.
Killian’s jaw tensed and he pulled her even closer, whispering things into her ear I couldn’t decipher. It seemed to work.

„How long, Dad?“, my son sounded tired.

„An hour left“

„We can’t be going too far away from these bastards. It will only give them the opportunity to flee!“

„I don’t think they want to run, son“

„They will.“ Our eyes met through the mirror for a split second and it was like I saw myself in his eyes. Like that time when Arianna died and I blamed the world for it and stupidly my own love. But especially like that time when I found out the truth and Reina was taken away from me. And I saw her beaten up in her own blood. The rage over what had happened and how I almost lost the love of my entire fucking being, was so fucking overwhelming, I would’ve burned the world for her. Including myself.

„They will“, I agreed and something flashed in Killian’s usually emotionless eyes.

Surprise?

I nodded towards the rode.


„We will take a break-“

„I don’t need a break“, he cut me off, stroking Glyndon’s hair back while he continued gazing out of the window.

„No. You don’t“ I wasn’t being sarcastic. I knew that he couldn’t rest until justice was served.

„But Glyndon might when she wakes up. She needs water and something to eat until she gets the nutrition’s from the doctor“

Glyndon had been captive for what seemed like days without food or water. Killian did his best by nurturing her as much as he could when they rescued her. Naturally a doctor was supposed to see her and give her a nutrition boost but because of recent event’s we all needed to pack as quick as possible and change locations.

Some men stayed there, including Aiden, Kyle and Eli to go over everything.

They wanted to be sure that they had seen and found every clue possible, before joining us.

I halted at a gas station and got out, opening the door on Killian’s side.

„What are you doing?“, he looked at me with furrowed eyebrows.

„I’ll pump gas and check with the others. You go and wash your damn face, grab some snacks and water for Glyndon and come back“

„I won’t leave her“, he said with a final tone.

„I’m here“

„Kill..“ I sighed and crouched down. I slowly lifted a finger and stroked a hair out Glyndon’s face, my son tensed visibly.

„Stop that“, he threatened. I allowed myself a little proud smile at that, before cupping Killian’s head and forcing him to look at me.

„You are my son Killian. And no matter what happened between us in the past and how far we are in healing.. this.. all of that doesn’t fucking matter in this situation. Because I want you to be assured that you can always, fucking always trust me“

I leaned our foreheads together. „Trust me, son. Glyndon has become my daughter the moment you brought her home and I saw you -“

„Normal“, he looked at me calmly. He didn’t sound accusatory, merely like he was stating a fact.

„Being yourself!“, I corrected him. „I know I wasn’t the best father you deserved. But let me prove to you, that no one will love you like I do son. Trust me, okay? I’d protect my daughter-in-law with my life if necessary! “

Killian’s nostrils flared and I let him go so he could look down at Glyndon’s face for a second.

He didn’t answer nor reciprocate in any form. I didn’t expect him to because I knew he wasn’t doing emotions. But him putting Glyndon softly into a comfortable sleeping position and getting out of the car was already a big prove of trust. 

I straightened so he could get out of the car. I locked the doors after closing them. He nodded once before he disappeared to grab the snacks.

While pumping the gas I dialed Aiden’s number.

„Are you done?“

„Almost.“ I heared painful groaning in the background

„Did you guys arrive at the location?“

„Almost“ I gave him back his answer. „Will you be there on time?“

„Don’t worry, honey, I know you can’t do shit without me“

I smirked.

„Fuck you, King“

„I pass“ He replied and hung up. 

Being able to fight with Aiden gave me still a form of sanity in this whole damn mess. I texted with the others, apparently some of them already had arrived.

Killian came back a few minutes later, looking a bit fresher than before. Some water droplets were dripping down from his hair strands and gave him a much more awake look. He was carrying some snacks. Maybe a bit too many for the remaining hour. He looked into the car, checking if Glyndon was still asleep.

„Feeling better?“

„No“, he answered calmly. „Not yet“

I nodded, knowing what he meant. I paid for the gas and sat into the driver’s seat and surprisingly, Killian joined me on the passenger side after covering Glyndon with his jacket and making sure that she rested well in the back.

I allowed myself a small smile.

„What did he mean?“, I asked into the 20min silence. From the corner of my eye I saw Killian’s muscles flexing.

„Who“

„Her brother. What did he mean by -“

„Not now, Dad“

I furrowed my eyebrows and passed a large truck before answering.

„I don’t think there are any better moments, son“


He sighed and I watched his Adams apple bob in silent. Was.. Killian struggling to tell me something? No, that can’t be. My son would never struggle with the truth. He didn’t have that empathy level.

„But there are worse…“, he mumbled.

Normally I would argue with him, fight with him and blame him for how he was not responding and hiding important information from me. But just a moment ago I asked him to trust me and ..I needed to trust him too.

I needed to trust in his ability to know what was right now and what was .. just not necessary at this moment.

Levi King calls my son a few minutes after, and he assures him that Glyndon is save. They arrived and were waiting for us. I could see that King was not fond of leaving his little baby girl only after finding her again but he had his hands full with Landon and Nikolai, who was giving updates on his other son.

By all the information I got, he was poisoned.

And though I could see that the elder King wasn’t the greatest fan of my son, I knew that he trusted him in protecting his daughter.

“Tell me about Ilya”, I try this time. We still had 30min to go and there was nothing wrong with getting all the information’s I might’ve missed.

“He betrayed us, what else is there to tell?”

Ilya disappeared with Knight and his daughter, Jeremy’s girlfriend Cecily.

When they were rescuing Annika, Ilya used the opportunity when shit went down to free the men that had been captured and kidnap Knight and Cecily when realizing that the latter was remembering things she shouldn’t.

“What motive does he have?”

“You mean besides Maya?”

I tilt my head down, contemplating. “Why didn’t you tell Jeremy earlier.. maybe he would’ve been more careful-“

“I doubt that”

Killian looked back to Glyndon when she made a soft noise in her dreams. He reached back to stroke her hair back, not for her, but for himself. 

Because he needed her touch just like a drug.

I waited for him to continue.

“Otherwise, it would be my fault, or rather my stupidity for not understanding it earlier but it’s not that”

Killian’s finger started drumming against the window.

“It’s about the fact that Ilya wasn’t so sure about what to do himself.”

I lifted one eyebrow.

“How do you know?”

“Cecily was about to be kidnapped again. Shortly after she was rescued. Ilya checked the room. Now knowing what we know, it’s clear that he was in onto the plan. He knew the room was rigged and yet lied to Jeremy it being safe.”

He stopped drumming and for a moment it seemed like he was lost in his thoughts.

“We dissected the room and quickly found all the cameras and hidden traps. But I also saw something, that I didn’t understand at the beginning.”

I looked over to him intrigued.

“The window. Apparently, it was shut when the men came.”

“So?”

“Are we not using our brain Carson?”

I smirked. “Watch it, punk!”

I could deal with big mouth and provoking Killian. He was much better than soulless Kill.

He chuckled humorlessly.

“So, we established that Ilya chose and prepared the room for Jeremy. Cecily woke up from the men entering the room because the window wasn’t open like it was supposed to be. They had to crash in, which woke up Cecily.”

I raised my eyebrows. It made sense.

“So, you think Ilya did it on purpose, so Jeremy had a chance to rescue her?”

Killian shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s a theory”

“Why would you think that? Maybe the men were really just too dumb? Maybe they didn’t expect Jeremy to be close by or for Cecily to wake up.”

“Possible” 

My son took a deep breath and rubbed his chest, right over his heart. The physical exhaustion was slowly eating him up.

“But I don’t think they planned everything so perfectly, only to fail at such simple tasks.”

“And why would Ilya kidnap Cecily and her father now, if he wanted them to have a chance?”

“Because his motive is Maya, Dad.” He turned his head to look at me and for the first time it seemed like an ounce of empathy was swimming in his cold blue eyes.

“Ilya didn’t betray Jeremy, just to betray him. He did it because of Maya.”

“Are you defending him?”

“Would you?”

Killian looked at me when I stopped at a red light.

“Defend him?”

“No. Betray your –”

“No”, I interrupted him as flashbacks filled my mind. 

“I would never not communicate and hide my problems ever again”

I felt my son’s eyes on me and though we had never told him about his aunt, he knew that a certain family member gave us the worst time of our lives.

She almost made me lose my one true love but she was only so strong because we allowed her to be. We never talked, never shared our pain with each other which is why we almost lost each other for good.

“Ilya should’ve talked to Jeremy.”

My son turned his head back and a silent filled the car until I slowly saw the airport trajectory.

“What is this?”, Kilian asked as we saw our friends and family standing in front of Volkov’s private Jet.

“Would you?”

“What?” 

I parked next to the scattered cars and looked over to him.

“Would you betray your own to safe Glyndon?”

We looked at each other for a long moment, his icy blue eyes vibrating with intensity as he thought hard about his answer.

He looked over to Glyndon who was softly sighing in her sleep when he answered.

“Yes”

Though I didn’t suspect a different answer, I couldn’t help the sting in my chest.

“Because she is my empathy. Without her, I don’t own a different perspective.”

He nodded over to her.

“So, with her being save here, I can rationalize what you are saying. It’s understandable and it’s…” He furrowed his eyebrows as if he was tasting his words “it’s probably the right thing to do. The moral-ethnical and socially acceptable way of seeing this.”

“But.. it’s not how I function Dad. Not how I will ever work. Glyndon is my only sanity so if she disappears-“

“You’d lure your cousin into a trap?”, I interrupted. I knew I had no right to feel attacked. I knew he was being brutally honest with me which I appreciated. Fuck, I appreciated it so much, even though the truth about my son would always hurt me.

But I was proud of how reflective he was and most of all, how he was trying for us all.

Even if he said it was only for Glyndon, it wasn’t true.

It was maybe because of Glyndon, which is why he learned perspective and patience, but he had always put on a mask in order to not hurt us, hurt his mother.

Even if he acted like he didn’t care and yes, yes because of how his brain worked he might not.

But he cared differently.

He adjusted to us to not make us feel sad even if he wasn’t aware that that was a form of empathy.

Killian’s eyes darkened.

“Never. Mia… “ He broke eye contact as he looked out to the others, Adrian Volkov looked at me expectantly.

“I am not defending what Levitsky did” He spat his name like a curse.

“That motherfucker deserves a slow death for what he did to Mia”

He looked then at me again, a shadow darkened his eyes now. Making him look deathly. Ruthless.

“But if someone asked me to exchange Landon for Glyndon. I gladly would”

I allowed a low chuckle knowing how much my son hated his girlfriend’s brother.

The corner of his mouth twitched for a split second before he nodded towards the others.

“We are sending the girls off, right?”

I nodded.

His jaw tensed and he looked back at Glyndon again. Desperation and reluctance were written in his face.

“She will be safe”, I assured him.

“She will be safe”, he said, emphasizing the last words when he met my eyes.

He wasn’t assuring himself or me. 

It was a dark promise.. almost like a threat.

-

Astor’s boy and Aiden’s younger boy decided to stay with the girls.

Well, not quite freely.

Nash’s youngest daughter was clearly a mess and her boyfriend would’ve rather chewed his own leg then to let go of her in any circumstances.

Her father clearly approved, though I knew that Cole would never admit that out loud. But he needed to focus on his still lost daughter and I could tell that he was relieved that she didn’t need to stand alone through whatever she’s been through.

Aiden’s youngest son, Creighton, wasn’t as easy to convince. 

But he wasn’t happy with neither staying nor leaving with Annika.

He knew that she needed to head back home, that she needed to leave this hell hole and he wanted to stay with her and protect her but at the same time the need to kill was also there. Present.

It was a back and forth until Adrian grabbed him by his shoulder and looked down on him though they were almost the same height and told him to choose himself just like Annika did too before.

I didn’t know what they meant by that.

Without using the words for it, Adrian basically told him, that he wanted him to stay with his daughter.

Creighton looked back before they entered.

“I want the one who took her”

And then he disappeared into the plane. It was clear as day what he meant by that.

He wouldn’t be here to find those men and punish them for what they did but he wanted to have at least one to torture which would be the one who took Annika in the first place.

Adrian nodded.

I didn’t look when Killian hugged Glyndon to his chest and I didn’t listen when he whispered her that he loved her and that he would come back as soon as the fuckers who did that to her would be bleeding. 

Levi approached his daughter shortly after and helped her inside.

His son was nowhere to be seen.

The girls would be sent back to one of Adrian’s hidden houses and would have the best security to protect them. 

We watched the plane start from afar when Jeremy’s phone went off. He had been quite the whole time, watching in silence when I knew that his soul was shattering.

“WHAT?”

We all looked at him tensed when he yelled into the phone. His eyes met Levi’s who stepped closer.

In return he held his phone out and put it on speakerphone so everyone could hear my nephew talk.

“Like I said. Levitsky is here. Knight and Cecily are here too.”

We looked at each other in disbelief. Why the hell is Ilya back? 

“Is Knight alright?”, Astor asked, stepping closer.

“He lost a lot of blood and is unconscious at the moment.” He waited a beat. “Cecily is with him and my men are with her”

This information was clearly for Jeremy who was now basically killing his phone with his death grip and laser eyes.

Nikolai growled like he was trying to control his beast.

“He also brought the antidote”

“Are you sure it’s the correct one?” Levi asked now taking Jeremy’s phone. The latter’s muscles ticked but he didn’t stop him.

“It’s the only one we have Mr. King... we need to hurry”

“Nikolai! What if it’s a trick-?”

“It’s not”, Killian cut in, looking at the phone with an empty look.

“How do you know, Carson?”

I looked back at my son.

“Brandon was already dying. What difference would a few hours make?”

Levi bit down on his teeth at the image of his son slowly losing his life.

“Don’t let him out of your eyes Niko!”, Jeremy barked in before they could continue to argue about Ilya’s intentions.

There was a moment of silence on the other line. Nikolai didn’t sound like himself. I knew his boyfriend was fighting for his life at this moment but knowing that he received the antidote should actually make him sound. -maybe not happy.. but more alive?

So why did he still sound like he was trying to make Brandon breathe again.

“He’ll stay. He.. is waiting for you”

Jeremy hissed, his jaw ticking with unleashed anger when he grabbed his phone back.

“Send me the fucking location of the hospital Nikolai and so help me God when I see him because he wished he’d run away”

“You’d be surprised”, Nikolai echoed with an almost hollow voice and hung up.

What was that supposed to mean?

Jeremy didn’t wait to find it out as he rushed to his car, his father following. I knew that Adrian also had a vendetta against Ilya for betraying his son like that.

“How are we sure this is not a trap?”, Astor asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“I don’t think so”, Killian threw in.

“What? Do you think he suddenly had a change of heart?”, Levi spat. His tone towards my son was pure poison and I was about to punch his fucking face for that.

“Not a change but maybe a loss..”

Again, his eyes swam into a further nothing when I could practically hear his brain working.

“What are you saying, Kill?”, I asked.

“I said I would betray my people for Glyndon, Dad. Now empathize with me. When would I come back?”

He looked at me – no, past me. Like he was chasing a long-gone shadow. 

I furrowed my eyebrows thinking about his question.

What did he mean?

When would Killian come back?

Especially like Ilya. Why would he all of a sudden try to help? Seemingly?

If he wanted to safe Maya then-

My eyes widened when realization slapped me.

I felt like someone poured cold water over my head, freezing me to my bones.

“Mr King. Please show me the picture of Mia”

Mia? Wait – why Mia?

Levi looked at me for a second before he looked back at my son.

“Why?”

He just reached out his hand, waiting for him to give him the phone.

After three heartbeats Levi reluctantly handed him his photo after opening something and –

Fuck- FUCK

Was this my heart breaking?

My lungs that were shuttering?

The corners of my eyes blackened for a moment when I blinked, my eyes desperately trying to focus on the picture in front of me but my body was revolting to even witness what I was seeing.

No, no, no. Not my little princess. Not my beautiful, innocent niece!

Not M-

“Maya. This is Maya” 

Killian’s voice came out like the reapers.

Dark and lifeless.

Gone.

“The message said-“

“It’s a lie. Only to pitch Landon against us. This is Maya.. ..I ..recognize my cousin”

A heavy and dark blanket laid upon us as we all stared down to the picture. No, not everyone. Astor, Nash and King were avoiding it.  So they knew before.

And.. I looked at Killian. 

He knew too. He didn’t see the picture, obviously a mix up happened between the twins, but he knew that his cousin died. That’s why he wouldn’t tell me.

“That’s why Ilya came back”, I whispered.

That’s the only reason Killian would come back too. If it was too late. If he had lost Glyndon. Only then he’d help for a last time.

Maybe him not because of guilt but because of revenge. To stop them from plotting and pull them all to hell with him. 

“Maya is..”

“What about my daughter?”

The voice belonged to my brother-in-law. Kyle Hunter who stepped out of Aiden’s car together with him and his son Eli.

He had stayed with them behind to clean any mess they might’ve left with their last snooping and got rid of unnecessary attention.

We were so indulged that we didn’t even hear them approaching, yet alone getting out of the car.

Levi snatched the phone back from Killian and everyone kind of stepped away from the circle we all built.

“We got Ilya”

Killian announced to his uncle. “We are heading to the hospital; Brandon is being treated.”

I refused to look into Kyle’s eyes as I followed my son back to the car, but a strong arm stopped me.

“Ash” 

The familiarity broke me for a second and my eyes met with Aiden’s who was looking at us from a few feet away with a calculative look.

“What did you guys talk about? What happened to my daughter?”

I felt like needles were piercing my skin and a heavy stone was setting in my throat.

“She-“

Sudden gun shots interrupted me when we found ourselves in the middle of an attack. 

Kyle pulled my head down and we ran to the next car, jumping in.

I checked if my son got in safely but gladly there was nobody left on the open field as we raced out of danger. How the fuck did they find us so quickly?

I dialed Aiden’s number, and he picked up after the first ring.

“Did everyone make it?”

“Yeah” I heard him driving over a man.

“Everyone’s safe.” He sounded too calm.

“Put it on loudspeaker”, Kyle grunted next to me.

“How many can you see King?”

“A few. Your little trap worked.”

I furrowed my eyebrows.

“You brought them here?”

“We were on a hunt remember? Time to catch the prey.”

I looked back and saw Aiden behind us, both him and his son looking almost bored as multiple cars were chasing them. 

“By putting everyone in danger?”

“We didn’t. We knew they would come, obviously” Aiden stated through the phone. “Why chase them when we can let them follow us.”

“Work smarter not harder” I smirked, and I knew Aiden was doing the same. It was his motto since I could remember.

“How did you lure them in?”

I asked, not quite understanding yet why they were suddenly so open with their attacks.

“Simple”, Aiden said with and obvious undertone. “Find out that Adam is not the only one behind this shit and kidnap their accomplice who most definitely would spill his whereabouts with a tiny bit of torture”

“What a pussy”, Kyle grunted, obviously speaking about a session they both had when we left.

How long were they gone exactly?

But wait? Accomplice? As in-

“It’s not Adam Herran behind this?”

“Oh he is”

“But he apparently wasn��t alone”, Kyle commented while he made a sharp left turn, the car chase getting more difficult as we snaked through the traffic.

I furrowed my eyebrows.

“Who?”

“An old high school friend”

I waited.

“Christopher Vans”, he spoke darkly. 

[canonically47]

post-DCAS character ranking

18. yul. the worst dsvc character to ever grace our screens. i should not have to explain myself for this, i feel like it goes without saying he's the worst of every cast ever

17. riya. a one-dimensional character who refuses to change. the only reason she's ranked higher than yul is because she's not racist which (virgil sanders voice) that CANNOT be where the bar is.

16. ashley. her entire development was becoming jake's friends and helping in a very small way to get tomjake together. she did nothing for herself, her entire character was just jake's bff and that goes to show how little ONC cares for their female characters

15. ally. the worst development of the season, with the most boring ending, with the least pay-off. how she made finale is beyond me

14. hunter. somehow higher than ally because he was funny

13. tess. higher than both of them but she just existed to me

12. tom. he existed and i still dislike him despite the finale desperately trying to make me not to.

11. connor. a whiny manbaby who achieved nothing this season, whose only role was being there for riya’s drama. genuinely, why did they bring him back if this was all they were going to do with him? only ranked this high because the others behind him are somehow worse or even more boring.

10. lake. similarly to tess, she also just existed. they brought her back just to nerf her like idiots. because guess what if the drama doesn't revolve around a mlm couple then it's not interesting to ONC!

9. miriam. poor queen how you have fallen. decent but deserved more

8. james. consistently funny and good, just wish he had more screentime. others rank higher than him because they actually got some type of development.

7. ellie. pains me to put her this low, she's one of my favorites ever, but i gotta do what i gotta do. she should've gotten better and more believable development. i dearly miss her season one self

6. aiden. he and jake were gay and i don't remember anything else that he did. only ranked this high because he made it far again, played fair, was super entertaining, and his VA is my all-time fav. sue me, i got biases.

5. fiore. she managed to not be ruined my baby <3 she escaped the bad writing so proud of her

4. gabby. it's okay gabby we all know in the better timeline you won the money and helped ellie pursue her dreams. you did your best. yes gabby we are all ignoring how weird the whole evil shadow realm you thing is. we love you too much to blame you for it. that's all ONC. you're innocent. we love you gabby we all say in unison

3. grett. i am sooo happy she got her development this season but by GOD did she need to get her justice earlier. she should've killed yul tbh

2. alec. he was at his worst mid-season, but fuck it, i'm biased and he actually bounced back. he was not likable from beginning to end, but he was a strong player with a consistent and (somewhat) believable character arc. in a better timeline, we got an alec - rosa-maria - grett finale and alec won.

jake. this will come as a shock to anyone who's followed me for a longer time/has seen my early reviews, and even to myself. i never expected myself to like jake as much as i did, but credit is due where credit is due: ONC did something with him this season. he got his development. he became a better person, outgrew his mistakes, befriended those that did him/he did wrong, forgave them and/or made it up to them, and he even got the guy in the end. never thought i'd say this, but jake is probably the best written character in this show, and will be one of the only characters or overall things i will miss about disventure camp seasons 1 & 3.

thank GOD it's over

[cadybear420]

So this post by @somerandomjewelleryonthefloor got me thinking, and I wanna go a little more in-depth about this topic for Evie and Aiden...

It goes without saying that the primary reason Evie and Aiden are together is because of each other's personalities, how they're always there for each other, and how well they relate to and understand one another.

But there is also a significant amount of physical attraction in their relationship. Both of them have their favorite assets about each other and frequently act on it.

Details below the cut because I made this way too long. CW for suggestive-ish stuff I guess

To start, Evie is a major Ass Woman when it comes to men. There are many assets she loves on men- tits, thighs, belly, hips. But ass tends to be her biggest fixation of them and she can't quite place her finger on why. Probably because it comes off as the most intimate? (Especially since Evie always, y'know, "plays pitcher" with Aiden).

Aiden has a good amount of each of Evie's 5 favorites for sure, top that with also being Pretty Boy Extraordinaire. But his ass and legs and hips definitely stand out from the rest. I imagine that all that marching in marching band definitely does him justice, plus (in my headcanons) he sometimes runs or jogs as a side exercise. And he's canonically good at roller-skating. He may have spent most of his life up to this point being very music-focused, but he does not miss leg day. Thus Evie is also very obsessed with the way he walks.

Of course, she also craves the physical interaction with his best features just as much as she does the visual. Caressing, holding, squeezing, squishing, kissing, sucking, leaving hickeys and bite marks, resting against them. Aiden straddling/sitting in Evie's lap, Evie hugging Aiden from behind. These can be turn-ons for her, but they can also be very soothing. Having a bad day Evie? Just squeeze your boyfriend's ass like it's a pair of stress balls. Or smother your face against his tits (which not only feels nice for her, but it allows her to listen to his heartbeat, which is extra soothing). Or lie down while he straddles you and just sits or lies down on top of you.

For Aiden, Evie's infatuation with his body is sort of a guilty pleasure. On one hand, he's a firm believer that physical attraction isn't enough for a relationship, and sometimes he has felt a bit weird about a lot of focus on physical featues. But he also feels very confident in Evie's admiration for his personality, musical talents, dedication, etc. She's made it very clear ever since that night on the Hearst rooftop that he inspires her, after all.

Plus, he does put a fair amount of effort into his appearance, and he's quite proud of it too. To the point where he's even composed a whole song about his own good looks prior to his relationship with Evie (yes, this is canon). So he loves to see some appreciation for it.

Aiden getting flustered is also the perfect cherry-on-top for Evie too. Even just the slightest touch gets him to react. Standing in place as his face turns red. Starting to sputter, tryng to avert his gaze. Letting out a gasp, squeak, whine. Squirming in her grasp. Or just getting the biggest fucking grin on his face because he loves her touch so much. It feels that good to him. Often he'll actively egg her on, sometimes even doing things like bringing her hand back to his ass, or gently pressing her face against his chest.

And let's face it. Aiden totally has a praise kink. He may get easily flustered, but he loves when he gets compliments. Whether it be for his music, his looks, etc. He loves when his partner desires him, makes him feel sexy, props him up. He will take offense if you give tell him his outfit is just "pretty okay" (yes, this is also canon).

Speaking of which! Dating a gal like Evie who is A) very proudly GNC about her own appearance and B) infatuated with his ass, legs, belly, etc. definitely gets Aiden curious about trying new kinds of clothing, often in the more risque and daring category. Stuff like crop tops and short shorts are his favorite, and he's also a big fan of skirts/dresses with high leg slits, thigh-high stockings and boots, even waist jewelry. Trying on risque outfits and flaunting himself gives him feelings of excitement and confidence, along with making Evie unable to take her eyes off of him. He loves to look like a goddess and he loves when Evie treats him like a goddess, they're such guilty pleasures for him.

That's not to say Aiden doesn't like his old in-game clothing styles either. He can't give up that sharp distinguished look. And even those can make for some very good eye-candy for Evie. Jeans or slacks that hug his rear and hips, and a waistcoat that hugs his waist? Perfection. I mean just look at the fall casual, marching band, concert, and prom outfits. You know those outfits are hugging his ass in all the right places. You know all the Aiden-romancing MCs are checking out his rear in the marching band uniform at the football games. Man knows he's got cake.

Sometimes Aiden will even combine the two styles- like wearing a sleek crop top with a pair of sharp, snug slacks or jeans. Or taking on a serious demeanor while wearing a slinky gown with a hip-high leg slit. Blend sharp and serious with daring and risque, and you've got the perfect recipie for cunt-serving.

And Aiden of course, has some physical attraction of his own. However, there is a distinction to be made between which part of her that he likes in a more romantic sense. and which part of her that he's most sexually attracted to. Romantically, his personal favorite is, as per canon, Evie's nose, as it reminds him of how close she is to him. He definitely takes on the habit of kissing her nose, touching noses with her, sometimes even booping her. He loves the goofy lil smile and squeaky lil giggle she makes when he boops her. It's cute.

Her hands are a close second, but that one is sort of a mix between romantic and sexual for him. Aiden, being a dedicated musician, has a fascination with hands, the dexterity of hands and fingers. It intrigues him to see how they work, it excites him to see different skills that rely on hands and fingers. And Evie may not be able to play an instrument to save her life, but there are plenty of... other things she's good with her hands and fingers at.

Aiden's other favorite is Evie's muscles, namely her abs and biceps. There's just something about musculature that fascinates him (especially musculature on women) and he just doesn't know why. Probably a big part of it for him is the texture, the grooves and bumps, the firmness and tautness. It sort of inspires ideas for music in him. Needless to say, he loves when Evie does anything involving muscles. Lifting weights, lifting him, holding him protectively...

He has a hard time choosing whether he likes Evie's abs or biceps better. Visually, he probably prefers the biceps, as they're part of the arm and thus share some connection with the hand and fingers. But he probably prefers the physical feel of her abs. They've got more bumps and grooves.

Aiden also tends to be a lot more reserved when wanting to get a feel for her features in a public setting. Well, he tries to, anyways. He doesn't do it as frequently as Evie does, and when he does do it, he tends to be a lot more sneaky. Like if he wraps his arm around her, putting his hand on her arm, and gently feels or squeezes her bicep while having his arm around her.

And uh... there's probably more, but that's about all I can think of for now.

[inhibitionfreewriting]

slime + fluffy christmas? maybe decorating gingerbread houses

on one hand, doing traditional gingerbread houses would be sweet and in general the two of you love to spend time together. but this is the look of a man who would roast the shit out of your gingerbread house (but with love)

stay with me here, imagine getting all the things you need for it. you've got gingerbread panels and you're in the process of making the royal icing for it while slime pulls out a few bags of candy to use in the decoration - gum drops, candy canes, jelly beans, chocolates, basically whatever you two could grab from a local store. you question as the price reaches 75$ if you grabbed too much but slime shakes his head, "you need bricks to build." you agree.

i think it starts not as a competition, just deciding to do two separate houses so they can each look how you want them to look. you're probably going to break them afterwards anyway and just nosh on the sweet treat, but as soon as one of you accidentally knocks something off of the others and the response is a gasp and "sabotage", it turns into whoever can build the coolest looking house.

the problem is, both of you have different ideas of what would be the coolest looking house. slime is taking it too seriously and working on a gingerbread house with a complicated layout and interior rooms ("you're using too much gingerbread, you don't need to make an interior layout" "you're only saying that because you don't want to lose, give me the gingerbread") and you're working on patterns between the royal icing and the candy.

the BANTER? 😘👌🏻

"only a whore would live in your gingerbread house." "that just means i can live there and you can't." "woah, slutshaming? for christmas?" you give him this incredulous look before saying "you're not a whore!" before he gasps and goes "how DARE you!" it turns into this 15 minute long rant about how yes he is a whore and the fact that you're unwilling to face who he is down at the core of his being? the worst betrayal from you he's ever experienced.

you barely remember to take pictures before you start to break at pieces, sitting on the couch leaning into him and trying to find which ones highlight both houses the best. it IS a competition afterall, and who better to ask than the boys? he brings the pictures to the yard and its a small segment on the show to have them decide (it's important to note that you're not there)

when they pick his house (he doesn't say whose is whose), he immediately is defending yours and on your side. "hers is perfect what the fuck. what do you mean mine? look - the pictures just don't do it justice. you're all wrong"

"wait do you," ludwig shakes his head "do you NOT want to win this?" aiden is laughing

"lud doesn't get it. we want women to win," nick says "stop being misogynistic dude." lud throws his hands up in exasperation and shouts that he's NOT being misogynistic.

rewatching the clip on the yard makes your heart glow.

[cheesecakeislazy]

Disventure Camp Episode 20 Spoilers- Oh boy here we go..

1. Justice for the Jake Cheer, I wanted to see it.

2. Holy shit Emily was so poorly written this episode… she has been for the last few.. I tried to overlook it because she got so little screen time but I genuinely cannot stand this bullshit. I liked Emily!! Please I would have loved this villain arc IF it was hinted at throughout the show! Like.. make Emily have moments of going a little crazy?? So that the finale makes sense??

3. Did.. did they kill Emily? She was with the scorpions.. and then part of the cave collapsed. Is she dead or not?

4. Where the hell is Yul’s scar?? I’m going to personally headcanon that he put makeup on it to make it look like he’s still pretty. IT SHOULD STILL BE THERE ONC, STOP DOING THIS SHIT.

5. Riya. Please for the love of god.. JUMP OFF A CLIFF. /gen

6. I was so happy that Ally and Jake finally talked! And then Ally immediately got mad at him for “lying” about his grandma. …ALLY YOU DUMB BITCH. HE CRIED ON TV IN SEASON ONE. YOU REALLY THINK HE WAS LYING THEN???? I FUCKING HATE YOU!!!

7. Ally could’ve been great, she was great. Until she did stupid things. Until the writers decided to give Riya plot armor. Until the writers decided to make Ally a dumb angry bitch.

8. Ally, your feelings DO matter. The issue I have with your feelings, is the fact you constantly go against them. You constantly flip and switch and change up who you are. It feels like the writers just wanted to make Ally the character who can fit into any situation where they need a specific type of character.

9. Yul and Jake carried this episode. I loved Yul being a bitch to Riya. I also loved Jake being the best version of himself. Jake is the best character in the show. Fight me, he is the best written. He has flaws that come back like a real person, he finally realizes that in order to make things right and win he needs to trust his only ally, he becomes braver and becomes a better version of himself to win. Jake is written like a good flawed and growing character.

10. Do you guys think Ally is spelled ally because she’s an ally? Makes me wonder if this entire time ONC has been planning for her to be the “helper” or whatever to the winner..

11. James respects Jake. Yay? James still.. feels kinda empty ngl- James should really have more of a personality but.. nope. Still doesn’t have a personality other than “He reminds me of myself” and “I love Aiden” DO YOU SAY ANYTHING ELSE?

12. If Riya wins this season I’m never watching DC ever again.. please Jake I’m fucking begging you. Jake better win this bullshit.

13. People complain about Derek and Trevor having no chemistry- and they’re 50% right. The two of them had good chemistry in season one, or at least better chemistry. I was constantly thinking “oh they fuck” so I think the issue is that season 3 Derek and Trevor have no real chemistry, but season 1 Derek and Trevor do. It’s just been a while so people have forgotten about it? Maybe?

14. Ally you don’t fucking deserve Hunter. Tess x Ally would be better- Tess x Hunter would be better- FUCK THEY STILL FEEL LIKE A POLY COUPLE. JUST MAKE IT CANON YOU COWARDS.

15. Ally is a dumb bitch for putting Minecraft logic in real life. Fiore is amazing for calling her a dork. We love you Fiore.

16. I did laugh at how Hunter and Tom were both like “OH NO! MY PARTNER!” And Aiden didn’t get a speaking line for that?? I don’t ship Jaiden but the poor Jaiden shippers got a single crumb this episode.

There’s probably some other things I can’t think of right now- that I’ll probably make other posts about or reposts about or whatever- but all in all. Jake and Yul were the best characters this episode, Riya has stupid plot armor and should’ve been out, Ally is stupid, James is still an NPC, Fiore is still amazing, Emily was written horribly, Trevor and Derek deserved more screentime, and Grett should’ve been one of the finalists. Not Ally or Riya. ONC- what the actual fuck are you doing?

[ladykailolu]

Remember the Marigold getting murdered Scenerio

Imagine it’s the 3rd day of trial, Phoenix is defending Godot

(bonus is it’s with the help of Maya who managed to spirit channel a particularly determined and bitter Mia)

and Phoenix has finally found out who the real killer is

A older (16) boy who went to the neighboring high school, who Marigold caught dealing drugs before stabbing her

And as Phoenix presses him to get him to confess on the stand the boy finally snaps and says

“It’s that bitch’s own fault she’s dead!”

“All she had to do was shut her mouth!”

“I told her I would let her go with no issues if she kept her mouth shut!”

“But that stupid girl just had to keep going on about how “I had to pay for what I did””

“Going on about “upholding justice” like her stupid whore of a mother did, and like her idiot uncle or something would do, and like her fool of father would want her to do”

“If anything, her father should go to jail for raising her to be a god damn idiot!”

“My parents raised me for success, and I wasn’t about to let some dumb bitch fuck it all up”

How would old Godot, sitting in the defendant’s chair, and Uncle Phoenix at the defense table react to that

(And Ghost Mia for the bonus)

The knowledge that she died trying to make them proud of her

[I’ve been watching a lot of homicide documentaries and things in courtroom outbursts]

Poor Marigold Fey was in the wrong place, wrong time. This reminds me of the Aiden Fucci case--a 14 year old boy who killed 13-year old Tristyn Bailey via 114 stabs.

Mari probably caught the guy meeting up with someone else near a forested area and tried to run away to notify the police, but he caught her by the wrist and dragged her into the woods. Then stabbed her until she stopped talking or make any kind of sounds for good. Mari had died at the scene long before anyone found her body.

Imagine if on day 1 of the trial, it began as a missing person's case. Marigold wasn't found out to be dead yet, but she was missing and hasn't come home in quite some time. She missed classes which was entirely unlike her, and Godot, whom she lives with, hasn't seen her come home. Throughout the trial, Godot is upset, mind racing, trying to think of where she could be and what happened to her. It's tough simply not having answers of what happened to your own child. At this time, the most likely suspect was Godot. He was the closest one to Mari, and Mari wasn't known to have enemies. He must have done something to her, right?

They don't have a body or any signs that there was violence or bloodshed during the investigation, so they don't accuse Godot of murder. Yet.

Then they find Mari's body, cold and lifeless, stuck with several knife wounds all over. It's a bloody, tragic mess. And when Godot hears of the news not just of his daughter's violet death but that the blame was being focused on him, his heart breaks. There's simply no coming back from this. He could never heal from someone so dear being ripped from his heart again.

At first, it's his bitterness and anger that keeps him fighting, but by day three when the truth is revealed, Godot is simply burned out. He has no more energy to fight. Only despair. He lost everything all over again, and when he's found not guilty and allowed to walk as a free man again, he'll never feel free. He'll never feel okay again. The whole point of living, to work his coffee shop, to stay among the living was to support his daughter. It was pointless now.

I imagine that after this trial is over with, after that kid was put away for life, after the funeral for Marigold finally ended, and she was laid to rest, something changed in Godot. He looked older, frailer. Quieter and lived like a shut-in. Feenie tries to check-in with him, but Godot hardly responds. He essentially fades out, and the memory of him stays a memory for Pheonix, Maya, and everyone else who knew him.

Every father's day and every one of Marigold's birthdays and major holidays, Godot visits Marigold's grave to lay flowers at her tombstone and spend some time with her. And he prays. He takes comfort in knowing that Mari is up there with her mother, and someday, he'll be with them too. He hasn't touched her room since her death was announced. Her bed was still unmade, her clothes strewn over her desk chair for days since Godot told her to put it all in a laundry basket. He would never touch any of it as if he was trapped in a delusion that she would come back home someday.

Do you think that if Maya or Pearl channeled Mia and let her speak to Godot that Mia would say that Marigold is doing ok now? Would Mia even know? Or maybe they would channel Marigold and let her talk and describe where she is. Or maybe the ghosts simply don't know where they are and their memories are limited to the physical world.

Either way, it'd be sweet if Godot could talk to Mari from time to time. It might be another reason to live--if he could only hear her daughter's voice. Even now, Godot spends a lot of time sipping coffee and thumbing through Marigold's scrapbook, looking over her baby pictures, her kid pictures, her quinceañera pictures, etc, etc. She was a princess through and through. His princess.

And sometimes...Uncle Feenie and Aunt Maya join Godot in visiting Marigold's grave. She was buried next to her mother, Mia. And they reminisce about Marigold, all the cute stories of her childhood, that time she spilled the coffee beans all over the kitchen floor, the way she looked just like a princess during her quinceañera, her first dance with her father, all those pictures she drew in crayons of everyone close to her, how bright she was.

Her mother would be proud of her. Her father most certainly is.

[virgoanmaenad]

Aiden died in a bus accident caused by (legal!) Haitian immigrant Hermanio Joseph, who was sentenced to jail for up to 13.5 years.

Justice has been served, and this father is pleading with you ignoramuses to take Aiden’s name out your fucking mouths.

[dragonjadearts]

just a bard, a wolf pack, and a cat

[gyooza]

the more I hear about the watch dogs legion dlc the more it rubs me the wrong way. if this was their attempt at getting people to buy the game this sure didn't win me over. spoilers in the tags

[youngjusticerulez]

First fic character: Eh...my first fictional crush is Artemis Crock from Young Justice...which was kinda recent...and still my current fic crush

Colour: Blueeee

Most traumatising fic: It was a Taylyn fic. THE AMOUNT OF ANGST IN IT WAS INSANE AND I AM STILL SCARRED

Food I'd cook for ya: Eh probably some random indian food since I'm Indian but if you ain't into that i guess noodles. Can't go wrong with that

Lions or Kangaroos: Lions cause why not

Fictional villain that u brush past all the issues cause you like them: Don't really have one i guess

Burn book thingy: I don't really know what that is but probably....Pikachu plushie...No questions asked.

How long I'd last in my favourite fandom: My current favourite fandom is School Bus Graveyard or Young Justice. If Young Justice then probably a really long time. (For afrogwhocandraw I will fight the Phantoms with you :D) And on School Bus Graveyard....eh... I'd be like Aiden, so maybe not that long maybe I'd rip off a Phantoms a idk but I'll survive for like...a year max..

Do you know what Mischief Theatre is: Nope. Wth is Mischief Theatre???

Do I feel bad for Medusa: FUCK YEAH. THAT AIN'T EVEN A QUESTION

Song for my OTP: What's a OTP exactly? Anyway imma just say my favourite song which is GMFU by Odetari and 6arelyhuman...i have weird taste in music okay

Song I would dream of disassociate to: I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys or Dandelions...as i said my music taste is kinda weird

ANYWAY TAGSSSS

@sindella96 @whatsuplin @lee1504 @t4ylorh3rnandezz + open tagsss and no pressure tags btw

My own get to know you game:

Who was your first fictional crush?:

What’s the first colour you think of when I tell you to think of a colour?:

Which fanfiction emotionally scarred you and still makes you shudder to this day?:

I’m coming to your house for dinner, non-negotiable, what are you making me?:

Do you prefer lions or kangaroos?:

Which fictional villain do you brush past the glaringly obvious issues for because you really like them?:

What would accompany your picture in the Burn Book in Mean Girls?:

How many days would you last in the universe of your favourite fandom?:

Have you heard of Mischief Theatre?:

Do you feel sorry for Medusa?:

Which song makes you think of your OTP?:

Which song makes you disassociate and daydream the fastest?:

Tags: @weltato, @snarky-wallflower, @feathertru, @barclaysangel, @fanficwriter284, @silvershewolf247, @shadowbrightshine, @luxury-nightmare and anyone else who wants to have a go, feel free!

[maneskinmealive]

Pissed - Spoilers/Episode 5

all i’m gonna say is never say the name ‘R*paul’ in my presence ever again, he must be on some hard drugs to not see talent and praise the talentless. Miss Mediocre, Brita Filter, and ‘i’m too good for this competiton’, Aiden Zhane should’ve lipsynced. Period. R*paul is biased, hypocritical and clearly has favourites. The judges clearly cannot see how many talented queens they had before them - Heidi, Crystal, Jackie, Jan, Widow, Jaida and last but not least Nicky (Gigi not included purely because the judges DO love her) - but no, Sh*rry P*e, Brita, Aiden Zhane are the ones who are favoured/safe, seriously? I wholeheartedly say this season brought the best of the best and this was a double edged sword because they ruined it by not appreciating what the have. Michelle, stop telling Crystal to change who she is, Jan and Jackie are top tier queens who are overlooked despite being one of the best, Widow and Jaida have not enough screentime at all even though they’re some of the most entertaining, Heidi is perfect as she is and her name is Heidi N Closet, not Heidi Ho or whatever mediocre shit R*paul wants to change it to - HEIDI N CLOSET, and Nicky fucking Doll has one of sassiest personalities in this season and I don’t care how Americanised R*paul wanted her to be she was the French diva for a reason. Justice to my love, my queen - Nicky Doll, Haus of Sheep, celui que j’aime le plus, JUSTICE I SAY!