#she was treated like shit by her mother and probably her father too

[sleepyhoon]

BAJA BLAST - S.JY

pairing. religious stepbro!jake x fem reader genre. drabble, porn w plot warnings. virgin perv jake, stepcest, religious themes, brief mention of alcoholism & death word count. 3.5k smut tags. degradation, dry humping (i guess…), handjob, jake sucks reader’s tits thru her shirt, p in v for like 30 seconds.

a/n. hmm trying to get into darker themes to expand my genres a bit more … not too sure how i feel abt it yet but it was interesting to explore a new trope! i understand darker tropes aren’t for everyone sooo feel free to skip over if this isn’t for you!! <3

———

“You’re disgusting, and you’re not gonna find a God-fearing husband if you keep parading yourself like a slut.”

Jake pries your legs open a little wider, further situating himself between your thighs as he smears his precum on the core of your panties. He glances up at you when you scoff, knees digging into the mattress as he drags the tip of his cock along your clothed cunt. “What?” he sneers, raising a brow at you.

“You have a girlfriend and you’re getting yourself off between someone else’s legs; you’re the slut,” Jake’s cock twitches in the palm of his hand at your insult, you take a mental note of this, “and, I don’t even want a God-fearing husband, whatever that is.”

“It means a religious husband, genius. None of them probably want you anyway, so the feeling is mutual.”

Degrading as it may be, this is the shit that gets Jake off; certainly not his prude, preacher’s daughter girlfriend who only allows him to kiss her for a few seconds at a time, because anything longer than that could be “too tempting”.

He didn’t hate Chaeyoung in the slightest, but he likely wouldn’t have made all that effort to court her had he known she was saving herself for marriage in every aspect. No lingering touches, no suggestive comments, and certainly no racy photos; the poor boy would’ve been fine with her sitting on his lap every now and then if it meant he’d get to jerk off from the weight of someone on top of him.

Much like Chaeyoung, Jake was on the treacherous path of saving himself for marriage, but even he allowed himself a bit of wiggle room. Saving himself entirely for marriage was beyond unrealistic, but he was willing to at least avoid shoving his dick in someone before there was a ring on his finger if it meant he could get off in other ways.

Jake didn’t have the heart to break up with Chaeyoung just because she wanted to stay pure until marriage, but he wasn’t planning on waiting that long to finally get his dick wet. Besides, breaking up with the preacher’s daughter for seemingly no reason was a bad look, especially considering that Jake was the youth pastor at the same exact church.

Aside from the pastor and his wife, Jake and Chaeyoung were the only couple treated as royalty in their church community. They were seen as devoted followers of Christ whilst showcasing what an appropriate, God-fearing, young, Christian couple should look like. From the outside looking in (or even just looking from his girlfriend’s perspective), they truly did resemble a perfect couple.

How Jake got into jerking off between his step-sister’s thighs was a long story.

His original plan was to keep his distance when he first met you a little over a year ago, a few months before his father was preparing to marry your mother. Jake didn’t take kindly to you at first, bewildered on how such a respectful, faith-driven woman such as your mother could produce a daughter the exact opposite of her. Your outfits were entirely too skimpy, you had a horrible attitude, and you had tattoos. In Jake’s eyes, you were the definition of sin.

And that’s exactly why he felt disgusted with himself when he realized he was desperately attracted to you.

It was horrible, the countless nights he’d spent jerking himself off to the thought of you sinking down on his cock and riding him until he passed out. He’s certain his stamina is low and would probably finish in under five minutes, but it doesn’t hurt to dream; and that he does.

Until you showed up to his apartment one Monday morning with a large Baja Blast from Taco Bell and a proposition.

“Taco Bell at ten in the morning, seriously?”

You hadn’t greeted him with a “Good morning!” or “Hey, how are you?” and instead jumped the gun and went straight into, “Hey, you know how my dad died?”

Jake held his front door open, running a hand through his messy, morning hair in confusion as he responded, “Wasn’t it from, like, alcoholism?”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Yeah, but I meant like… you know that he’s dead, right? Also, Taco Bell serves breakfast, genius.”

“YN, it’s too early for this.” Jake says with a frustrated sigh, prepared to close the door in your face because it’s way too early to deal with your bullshit.

“I’m getting his inheritance from my grandmother, a huge one.”

Jake tried his best at attempting to hide the look of shock on his face. From his knowledge, your grandparents were loaded; practically rolling in money since the moment they were born. Having your father’s inheritance transferred to you was a blessing, Jake didn’t even want to imagine the useless crap you’d waste that money on.

“Congrats, did you come here to rub it in my face?”

You sighed, slightly embarrassed and a little defeated knowing you’d need Jake’s help. You felt entirely guilty for even coming to him in the first place, the two of you weren’t close and hardly spoke outside of gatherings, the only reason you showed up to his apartment was because you didn’t have his phone number; only his address you had to scroll in your GPS to find from the one time you drove him home.

“No, I’m not here to brag. I need your help.”

Jake hesitantly opened his door wider, allowing you into his home that you nervously pace around in. “Help with what?” he asked, locking the door behind him.

“I don’t get the inheritance until after my grandma dies.”

“YN, are you crazy?! I am not helping you kill your grandmother!”

“What?! Jake, no! God, just let me finish.” An awkward beat of silence passed before you continued, “She says I’m not getting the inheritance unless I get into religion and be involved in church.”

“Yeah, can’t help with that.” Jake took a moment to look you up and down, eyes focusing on the fresh tattoo right under your knee, “You’re gonna need a miracle.”

You followed behind Jake like a helpless puppy as he entered his kitchen, nervously toying with your fingers as you set your drink down on the kitchen counter, “I know we aren’t really close, and that’s partially my fault, but I’d really appreciate it if you could help me out with this.”

“With what, YN? You haven’t said what you’d need me to do.”

“Just, every so often, tell my family that I’m involved in church and help out. Shit like that.”

Jake chuckled, powering on his Nespresso, “As if that’s gonna work. You know your family goes to church, right? What are they gonna think if they don’t see you there but I’m telling them you showed up? They’d see right through it.”

“They don’t go every Sunday! I’ll just check ahead of time and go with them whenever they do go, and on the days they don’t go you’d be able to cover for me.”

Jake sighed with a shake of his head, reaching into his cabinet to retrieve a coffee mug, “It’s not just Sunday service, YN. They also go to bible study and help plan church events. Your family is very involved in the community.”

“Again, they don’t attend every event, right? I’ll go when they go and you cover when I can’t! And, besides, it’s not like they’re expecting me to go to every single event; as long as they think I’m putting in effort I’ll be fine.”

You seemed proud of yourself and your plan, which only annoyed your step-brother even further, because you clearly hadn’t thought this through.

“What’s in it for me?”

You paused, quirking a brow at Jake, “What do you mean?”

“We barely even know each other and you expect me to do this big favor for you for free? Be realistic.”

“Well, what do you want?”

“I want…half of the inheritance.”

“Jake, even you know that’s too much.”

Yeah, maybe he was being a little petty, but it was your own fault for asking for a favor like this and not offering him anything in return. He may not know the exact amount of your inheritance, but based on your reaction, it had to be a life changing amount of money; enough to give him a portion of.

“I’d rather not say what the exact amount is,” you start, looking down at your sneakers, “but it’s a lot, and I’m definitely willing to give you a fraction of it if you help me out. Just not half.”

“How much?”

“For you? Fifty-thousand.”

Jake dropped the ceramic mug to the ground, eyes widening as the cup broke and scattered across the kitchen floor. You flinched, jumping back on instinct while he remained frozen in place. “Fifty-thousand dollars?”

You wanted to tell him it’s truly nothing compared to the amount you’d have leftover, and that you’d offer him more if he insisted on it, but fifty-thousand seems to be enough for him. Instead, you nodded, carefully backing into the living room to avoid accidentally stepping on the ceramic shards.

“Does that work?”

It was too late to pretend your offer wasn’t more than he’d been expecting, but still, Jake had no reason to believe you’d hold up to your end of the deal; even if giving him fifty-thousand dollars would hardly make a dent in what you’d be receiving.

Jake shook his head, “I don’t know you, how can I trust you’ll actually give it to me?”

“You can’t just take my word?”

“The only word I take is the word of God.”

You should’ve seen that one coming.

Jake continued, “I want a down payment that I can receive now; something so that if you don’t pay me, I still got something out of our agreement.”

Intrigued, and a little frightened, you tilted your head at him, “Money?”

Jake shrugged in response, carefully stepping over the shards of ceramic, “Doesn’t have to be, your mom says you don’t have much of it.”

“I have money!”

Jake rolled his eyes, retrieving a broom and dustpan from the hallway closet, “Right, because your part-time barista job pays so much.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, “I really don’t know what else to offer you.”

“Better think of something or you’re on your own.”

The sound of ceramic clicking together as Jake cleans filled the silence, leaving you to brainstorm on what he would accept as a down payment offer. Money wasn’t an option, and you didn’t know enough about Jake’s interests to offer him some sort of bribe.

However, Jake is a man. Yes, a religious one, but still a man. If you’re lucky enough, there’s one thing you could offer that no man, not even Jake, would pass up.

“Chaeyoung is saving herself for marriage, right?”

Jake paused, suspiciously glancing at you over his shoulder, “I don’t see how that’s any of your business, but yes.”

You nodded, “Are you?”

“Again, not your business, but yes.”

“What about loopholes?”

Jake fully turned around this time, narrowing his eyes at you, “YN, where are you going with this?”

You shrugged, defensively raising your hands, “What if I was your loophole? Like, I help you get off however you want without actually having sex, so it won’t count as sinning. And, trust me, I won’t tell anyone.”

Jesus Christ, you seriously wanted the inheritance that bad?

Jake immediately wanted to accept the offer and drag you straight into his room, but he couldn’t; he had to be nonchalant about this or risk you revoking your suggestion.

He faked a look of disgust, a confused, twisted snarl on his face as he responded, “But, you’re my step-sister; isn’t that wrong?”

You shrugged, “I don’t care if you don’t. Plus, we’re adults and we barely even know each other, it’s not like our parents married years ago and we grew up as siblings.”

Fair point, not that Jake needed any further convincing.

“I’m not offering you this again, by the way. You either accept it now or you’ll never get the chance again,” you warn Jake, taking a seat down on the edge of his couch.

After a few long moments of pretending to weigh his options, Jake extended the end of the broomstick in your direction, slowly using the handle of it to lift your skirt. You didn’t react, your eyes following the edge of the broomstick as Jake continued his actions. He lowered his head slightly, confused as to why he couldn’t see your panties, until he realized.

You weren’t wearing any.

He cleared his throat, quickly pulling the broom away before leaning it up against the wall. “Sure, whatever, I guess. As long as you don’t tell anyone.”

Easiest deal of his life.

Jake made sure you kept to your end of the deal, and maybe took some advantage of it.

The first incident occurred a few weeks after the agreement, when Jake had to cover for you upon missing Sunday service due to you being hungover.

“She was up all night designing flyers for the coat drive next week,” Jake addressed your mother’s concerns, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder, “she really wanted to come to today’s service, but I told her she should get some rest.”

Your mother clutched her heart, staring up at Jake in complete awe, “YN? My YN?”

Jake nodded, a sheepish grin on his face as he responded, “The one and only.”

Your mother was skeptical, tilting her head at her stepson with her brows furrowed, “Just doesn’t sound like something she would do, unless there was something in it for her, of course. You’re not covering for her, are you?”

Jake faked a laugh, “The only thing YN is covered in is the blood of Jesus Christ.”

…And apparently Jake’s cum only a few hours later.

“…Now, guess who’s stuck designing flyers for the coat drive? Me!”

“I told you I would do it, you little brat,” your fist tightens around Jake’s clothed cock and he groans, squeezing his eyes shut at the new, uncomfortable, yet pleasant sensation.

You were slightly off-put and a little humored when Jake showed up to your apartment requesting, “A handjob but I, like, keep my boxers on. Like, just do it through my clothes.”

“Wouldn’t you rather…have your boxers off?”

“Are you nuts? I’m not letting you touch me,” he’d said, unbuttoning his dress pants as he lowered himself on your mattress.

You obliged his request, awkwardly rubbing him through his boxers, watching as his facial expressions changed so quickly and constantly. His brows would furrow then relax, lips would twitch before sinking his teeth in them, all while he tried his best not to finish embarrassingly quick.

Which didn’t work.

Jake was already on the edge of cumming when you lowered your head down to his groin, placing a small peck against the head of his clothed cock, the material sticky and wet from his precum.

His body jolts at the touch, arching off the mattress with swears spewing from his lips as his orgasm washed over him. He shoves his boxers down in record time, grinning to himself when you groan in agony when his cum lands on your cheek.

Had you been literally anyone else, maybe Jake would’ve felt bad that he came so quickly and didn’t have the energy nor interest to give you anything in return; but he didn’t. This was an agreement, and as long as the two of you held to both your ends of the deal, there was nothing to feel bad about. He didn’t owe you anything else.

Surprisingly enough, the arrangements weren’t happening as frequently as Jake hoped they would.

You immersed yourself into the church community, showing up to Sunday Worship and Bible Study as if it were a second nature. Jake should be proud, really, that you’re serious about being devoted; even if it was under the premise of obtaining your father’s inheritance, but he’s pissed.

He waited weeks for you to slip up, intentionally scheduling a Bible Study session or some church fundraiser at a time where he knows you’ll be busy and have no choice to skip, but you show up.

To every fucking event. Until you don’t.

Your younger cousin was getting baptized and you missed it, and if it weren’t for Jake making up some lame excuse and covering for your ass, your mother would’ve gone ballistic on you.

Jake’s happy to cover for you, though, knowing he’d be getting something in return not too long afterwards.

After weeks of feigning, that simple slip up was how Jake found him back between your thighs, pumping his cock along the outline of your cunt through your thin panties.

“Whatever,” you sneer, propping yourself up on your elbows, “marriage is the last thing on my mind right now.”

Jake rolls his eyes, pausing and grateful at the fact that he has a better of your tits. For some godforsaken reason, the air conditioner in your home is always on full blast, and despite assuring your guests that you don’t feel that cold, your body certainly says otherwise; if the way your hardened nippled poke through your shirt is anything to go by.

He licks his lips, pumping his dick a little faster as he leans down and traces his tongue along your clothed nipple. You’re saying something, maybe asking him what he’s doing or to keep going, but he can’t hear you; having you like this is new territory for him, nothing else in the world mattered at this moment.

His saliva stains your t-shirt as he continues, moaning against your chest as he flicks his tongue against your bud. Jake lightly traps your nipple between his teeth, tugging on it just enough to sting before releasing it once again, lapping his tongue against it as if to apologize.

Your hand moves to his hair, giving it a tight grip as Jake moans before shoving your arm away entirely. “Are you insane?! Don’t touch me!”

“But-”

“Wait.”

Fuck, that felt good. It wasn’t much but it felt so fucking good.

He needed more of you, fuck all this waiting for marriage bullshit. He tried his best for as long as he could, and he doesn’t want to fucking wait anymore.

“I wanna try something,” he mumbles, wasting no time in pushing your panties to the side. The sight of your glistening cunt is enough to make his mouth water, and Jake swears he can hear a choir of angels singing as he stares down at it in awe.

“Jake, I thought-”

“Fuck that,” Jake is quick to cut you off, already knowing what your next words were, “I don’t wanna wait anymore; show me how.”

“How to what?”

“The one thing you know how to do.”

“Oh, fuck you. You’re such an asshole.” You say, but it doesn’t stop you from maneuvering your right hand between your bodies and gripping the base of Jake’s cock, encouraging him to scoot forward as you guide him directly to your hole.

You don’t move him any further, making the choice of letting Jake decide whether he’s serious about this.

He is.

He presses the head of his cock further into you, squeezing his eyes shut as you wrap around him so snug and perfect. He stills his movements, head dropping to your shoulder with a groan.

It’s already too much and he’s not even halfway in. It feels too good, so wet and warm and tight, better than he could’ve ever imagined.

“Fuck…”, he mumbles into your shoulder, taking note of how none of this barely had an effect on you.

“It’s okay,” you assure him in an oddly sweet tone, “try moving.”

“I can’t, think I’m gonna come if I do.”

“You’ll be fine, just-”

Jake lets out a loud, frustrated groan as he raises his head away from your shoulder, “You wouldn’t fucking get it.”

Jake spent too many countless nights imagining this very scenario, and now that it’s finally happening he can barely even handle it. Everything feels too good and it’s all too much for him to bear.

He pulls his dick out of you entirely, giving himself a few hard pumps as his impending orgasm approaches. It looks almost painful, the way he’s gripping and pumping his cock, how red his tip is, you’re surprised a few tears don’t slip from his eyes when he finally does finish, painting your thighs with his cum as his body trembles.

He rests a shaky hand on your knee, grip on his cock softening as he makes a mess across your panties, thick, white ropes of cum staining your underwear.

“Fuck,” Jake mumbles to himself as he steadies his breathing. He’s never came this hard before, to the point where he feels exhausted and genuinely empty.

“Are you…okay?” You ask, cringing at the sticky feeling between your thighs.

Jake nods slowly, sitting himself up as he tucks his now-softened cock back into his boxers, “Let’s, uh, get cleaned up so we can go.”

His head his spinning as he rises from your bed, a dizzy feeling coming over him as he stands. Fuck, maybe this is why he should’ve waited for marriage.

“Go where?”

“Bible study is starting soon,” he explains, “if we leave now we can stop by Taco Bell beforehand, I need a Baja Blast.”

[hearts401]

Tessa fucks me up dude can I just talk about her for a sec? Yeah? Yeah.

She loved those drones. She loved them because they were what she had. She felt sympathy for them when nobody else did. And I like to think there was a little bit of loneliness motivating her as well.

Her mother hated her. She was nothing to her. When her mother scolded her by saying "seems you still can't follow simple orders" her respone was "No, no no! Please!" BEGGING. Begging her mother to believe in her and be kind to her. She got chained up in her room (multiple times btw. At leas tthats implied. the hand she winced at and rubbed is the same hand the chain was on, which means shed be chained up long enough for it to rub her skin painfully. long enough to leave lasting pain.)

She is very connected to these drones, to the point where she kept all the error drones aroud because she LOVED them. She spent time digging them up. HELL SHE TOOK A FAMILY PHOTO WITH THEM DUDE...

Even when Cyn was creepy and scary, she kept her around. She'd rather lock Cyn up than get rid of her. and when n points it out, shes apologetic and hesitant. But we know WHY she did that. Even if it was kind of a sucky move, it was because she didnt wanna have to throw cyn out. and in the end that killed her.

Also she knows J well enough to know what sets her off (enough to. bite the shit out of a chain). She knows them. and she loves them.

I wish we'd gotten to know more about her an N. why is he so clearly her favorite? but thats not relevant ig

also her saying "I've only ever yakked to robots, J!" She has NO human friends. she has nobody to support her other than these robots. these robots who get treated like garbage by her family.

and then she has to watch these robots turn on her. Not just THESE ROBOTS but the three that she loved most. (also im going off what wouldve happened in ep 5 WITHOUT uzi, where n doesnt get out of the swamp, and nobody goes down to the basement)

V first, then Cyn, then J. And we KNOW she loved these three+N especially bc she took a family photo w them, interacted with them more often, and generally just seemed much closer with them.

and what does she get for it? killed. And also its implied by this screenshot that she wasnt ACTUALLY killed by cyn right then

(the scientists, the sword beside her, the footprints, the way shes sitting against the wall, the expression she has. she totally just saw all that shit)

and she cant have been skyn bc the scientists wouldve known. the skinsuit wasnt exactly. hm. pretty.

which means she DID see her whole family+more slaughtered in front of her while she was powerless to stop it. She DID see J violently kill everyone around her. She DID see Cyn kill everyone. And she just has to. Deal with that. And despite all her efforts, the solver took over and cyn killed her. (im assuming tessa died somewhere around when n's mineshaft flashback was like i mentioned b4)

and all the while she was convinced shed lose N, id assume. based on the state of the other drone out there.

And honestly, i think what she got was worse.

also i am team "N knew Tessa wasn't the same Tessa he knew back on Earth"

The way he looked at her, and the way he was suspicious of her. He knew HIS Tessa would never treat a drone like this. Cyn has been known to have relatively shitty recreations of people at times (like Thad in episode two) But even so there was no way he could believe it was someone else (like. who would it be? he saw her blood he heard her voice like...) which is why he was so stressed after killing her (when he leaned on his sword and was breathing heavy, yk?)

he loved her and she loved him and now shes dead. just like everyone else he loved.

this isnt about n but like. idk if tessa could see him now i think shed cry. she loved him and all of them

[blueicequeen19]

Something Borrowed

Warnings: non-con, forced marriage, creampie, cheating, unhinged Rafe

I lean back in the chair, my eyes locked on the swells of her ass as she screams at her father while he signs the contract. She probably thinks her life is ending with the swipe of a pen but I'll prove to her that it is just beginning.

The moment I saw her was enough for me. The fact that she was born with a backbone and an educated smart mouth were just added bonuses. I didn't want to treat her like a piece of ass but that's all I could think about currently.

I adjusted myself as my cock hardened painfully in my slacks. I was half tempted to check if she was wearing any underwear under her skin tight pencil skirt when the pen dropped on the desk and all the air seemed to evaporate from the room.

"Done." Her father said, his eyes staying on the desk.

"This is not done." She shouted, snatching up the contract as I stood. She'd meant to rip it in half but I grabbed her wrists before she could, pinning her against the desk with my body. Fire and disobedience radiated off her as she glared up at me like I didn't have six inches on her even in her heels.

"Rip it up if it makes you feel better." I leaned in close, making her arch her neck as her nostrils flared. "But nothing is stopping me from making you my wife." An adorable growl met my ears and I couldn't help but smile smugly.

"I'll never marry you." She spat, rolling her lip in disgust. I shifted so my erection was pressing firmly against her stomach. I watched the realization dawn on her and how her eyes tracked down my body before she released the contract to shove at my chest.

"Ugh!"

"Pack your shit or I'll do it for you." She opened her mouth to argue but I held up a finger, silencing her. "And if I have to do it for you, I'm taking the bare minimum and you'll ride in the trunk." I glance back at her father but his eyes are still downcast, his shoulders hung in defeat. I couldn't leave without her knowing that he'd sold her off. I didn't want to be the only one she hated.

"You should know that you did your father a great service." Her brows raise just as her fathers head does, his eyes wide with fear. "Thank your lovely daughter for paying back your debt. Why sell a couple vacation homes when you could just offer up your daughter?"

"You said--!"

"Are you--!"

I lead her from the room just as the shouting starts. I motion for someone to get her stuff as the office door slammed shut. I let her call me every name in the book while attempting to hit me as I navigated us to the car waiting out front.

"I don't want this!" She cried, shoving me again in the chest.

"Too bad."

"Are you so desperate for a wife that you'd blackmail someone into getting one? Is your dick that small?" I barked out a laugh as I pushed her back against the car. I seized her wrist in my hand and made her feel how hard I was. She resisted, her eyes widening in alarm.

"Would you like to drop to your knees right now and find out how small I am?" Her nostrils flared as her hand tightened on my shaft. I flexed the muscle and she jerked away, an adorable blush heating her cheeks.

"Do you think I've had any complaints about my size?" I ask, licking my lips as she avoids looking between us. I cup her chin, forcing her to look at me.

"I bought you because I wanted you. I could've had anyone on the island but I chose you."

"I don't care."

"Maybe you should. Your family would be bankrupt if not for me. I could’ve liquidated everything, leaving you and your mother in the gutter with your loser father but I didn’t.” Her eyes widen as she sniffles.

“Maybe you should be the one thanking me. With your lips around my cock.” I lick my lips, loving the way her eyes track the movement before she blinks, ruining the moment with a shake of her head.

“If you think I’d ever let you—.”

“Let me? Baby, I own you now.” I fist her hair and slam my mouth down on hers. A startled noise leaves her, allowing me to slip my tongue inside. I kiss her like I’ll die if I don’t. All but fucking her with my tongue. She tries to keep up, humming against my lips when a slap suddenly meets my cheek. I laugh, breaking the kiss to see her panting and fuming, her lips wet and swollen from our kiss.

“Trunk it is.”

The weeks before the wedding are nothing short of amusing. Her temper tantrums seem to be the most exciting part of my day even if they cost me thousands of dollars. I’ve decided to surprise her with her wedding dress since she’s destroyed the last two I’ve given to her. Not to mention flushing an engagement ring that cost enough to buy a house.

Now the wedding day has come and it’s taken more threats to ensure she gets down the aisle than not. Especially since she revealed she had a Pogue boyfriend that she would not give up. I warned her what would happen if I ever saw them together.

The very thought has me seeing red and I’m taking off down the hallway to her en-suite before I’ve had time to reconsider. The door is locked but I quickly slip in a master key. I can tell immediately that something is up. The room is empty and quiet. I move past the bed and to the bathroom as my heart starts to race.

She’s fled. I’m sure of it.

A whimpered moan from the other side of the door has my body flooding with rage and I’ve thrown the door open without a second thought. They both jump away from one another but it’s the white lingerie that she’s wearing that makes me snap. That was supposed to be for my eyes only. And now he’s had his filthy hands on her.

“Oh no.” The words barely leave her lips before I’ve grabbed Maybank but his shitty cutoff and landed a fist to his gut. I hit him again and again. Unable to squash the memory of his mouth on hers even as she hits me. I finally stand, blood on my sleeve as I guide him by his hair back towards the bedroom.

“Damnit, Rafe, stop!”

I shrug her off as I yank the handcuffs from my pocket that I was planning to save for our honeymoon. Her eyes widen as I secure one of Maybank’s wrists to the foot of the bed.

“What are you doing!?” She cries as I start to strip out of my tux and down to my boxers. I don’t even care anymore as I secure my tie as a gag around Maybank’s mouth. He’s bleeding and dazed but he’ll quickly come around. I don’t want him to miss a thing.

“Wake up.” I smack him across the face and he groans, blinking at up at us.

“Rafe, stop! What are you doing?”

“Giving you your something borrowed.” I snarl, fisting her hair and shoving her to the carpet on her knees. My cock grows painfully hard in record time as she struggles, her doe eyes pleading up at me. Her hair and makeup are ruined and I’m past the point of caring if her cheeks are streaked with makeup in our wedding pictures. This is her fault.

“Open up.” I free my cock, letting it spring free in her face as she fights my hold.

“I’ll bite it off.” She spats.

“Do it and they’ll never find his body.” I warn, drawing her closer by the hold I have on her hair and pressing the tip to her lips. JJ grunts angrily behind his gag, yanking on the cuffs.

“I’m going to ruin your life for this.”

“Looking forward to it Mrs Cameron. Now suck.” I force my way into her hot mouth, groaning immediately as she takes me deep. Her throat contracts as she gags but she doesn’t stop or resist as I begin to fuck her face. It’s better than anything I’ve ever felt and for some reason Maybank’s anger only makes me enjoy it more.

“She’s pretty good at this.” I say allowed, not taking my eyes off her as Maybank yanks harder on the cuffs. I’m on the verge of cumming too soon already as my attention lock on the swells of her tits, bouncing with every rough thrust down her throat.

Just as I’m about to unload.. I pull free to immediately wrap my hand around her throat. She’s an absolute mess but she’s mine.

“What—.” I force two fingers down her throat to cut her off.

“If you want to act like a slut then I’ll treat you like one.” Her eyes narrow even as she gags, saliva dripping from the corners of her mouth.

“If you want to spread your legs for someone then by all means, spread them.” I pull my fingers free and shove her onto her stomach on the carpet. The crotchless thong she’s wearing gives me a perfect view of her pretty pussy and the arousal that’s coating her thighs. I’m immediately even more pissed off that the fucking Pogue was so close to what’s mine.

“Goddamn.” I pull her hips back and line myself up with her entrance.

“Rafe.. wait..” I slam forward to the hilt, earning a cry of outrage from her and the Pogue.

“Face down.” I shove her head to the carpet as I pull half way out only to shove back in again. She’s so wet that I glide in and out with ease but she’s still so fucking tight. Feeling the way she opens up only to choke the life from my cock might be my new favorite thing.

“Fuck, baby.” I grunt, not slowing my pace as her moans fill the air. My balls are drawn up tight and I don’t stop myself from releasing inside her wet cunt, not caring if she gets hers or not. She glances at me over her shoulder with a look of pure sexual frustration. I’d think she was on the verge of begging until Maybank yanks against his restraints, attempting to kick me.

“One more thing.” I sink two fingers back into her pussy, showing my cum in deep as she sighs in relief before yanking back out and smearing my cum across Maybank’s face. I step on his knee as I stand, making him thrash in pain and anger.

“You wanted my sloppy seconds so bad so there you go, fucker.” I yank back on his hair, making him look at me. “Come near my wife again and I’ll feed you to a gator.” I snarl, rearing back and decking him one last time for good measure. I turn just as my pretty little wife makes a beeline for the door despite being in lingerie.

“Nope.” I snag her around the waist and toss her on the bed before turning towards the garment bag on the back of the door.

“You’re insane!” She shouts, looking even more delicious when she looks freshly fucked.

“No, insane would be making you walk down that aisle in your crotchless panties with my cum running down your legs. I’m at least letting you put the dress on.” I toss it at her but she doesn’t move, glaring at me under her matted lashes.

“I’m not going out there like this. I’m a mess.”

“You had your chance to do this the easy, clean way.”

“My father will kill you.”

“And what will he do to you if he finds out you’re fooling around with a Pogue on the side?” Her eyes widen for a moment because narrowing back into her perfect scowl.

“You embarrassed me so I’m embarrassing you. Now get dressed. I want to be able to look back on our wedding pictures and see how beautiful you look after being fucked for the first time by your husband.”

[bb-eilish]

I NEED taboo anakin somno shit NOWWW. The worse, the better. The more fucked up and taboo, the better

yes!!

—somnophilia with dilf!anakin who’s your fiancés older brother

-might make something similar but with boyfriend’s dad anakin. This was kinda tame tbh.

She was already pushing it with her fiancé, he was 10 years older than her. Now she was really pushing it since his older brother was around 20 years older than her. Who could blame her though? He was tall, classy, so charming, and unbelievably sexy.

“Not sure golfing is for me after all .” Her fiancé laughed, he finished telling a golf story to the table, which consisted of his mother, father, and older brother. Her fingers mindlessly played with his own as he spoke, she wasn’t there mentally. Not with the way his older brother’s eyes would catch hers every few minutes.

They’ve all had a few drinks and she blamed the incessant lustful thoughts on it. Why else would she be imagining Anakin’s strong hands? Maybe they’d pull her hair, force themselves into her mouth, inside of her. Even just the thought of how well they could grip her skin made her head dizzy. But the way her eyelids began to droop and become heavy wasn’t something she could ignore any longer. With a soft, sleepy yawn, she tapped her soon-to-be husband’s shoulder. “I’m gonna go to sleep, okay?” He nodded, barely registering what she was saying before going back to speaking.

“Goodnight guys, I’ll see you in the morning.” The smile that graced her face faltered slightly as she made eye contact with Anakin again, her skin felt as though it was going to catch fire as it warmed. He rubbed a hand over his chin as he said goodnight, the small act seemingly very loud. The tension between them, unknown to everybody else, steadily rose and it had her walking a bit quicker up the stairs to the guest room.

It was wrong, obviously. No matter how much her body craved whatever skills he possessed, it was wrong. With a huff, she got ready for bed, soon crawling under the covers almost half asleep.

The dreams conjured up in her unconscious mind weren’t any better than the day dreaming she’s been doing. In her dreams Anakin had a sinful way of talking, a sinful way of touching her.

“That’s it, god I want my cum leaking out of your nose” He’d say, gripping her hair tightly as he forced her further down his cock. He shivered at the tightness of her throat as he slid into it. “Would you like that?” His deep voice was velvety, painfully smooth as he spoke. All she could do was moan around him, spit bubbling from the sides of her mouth.

Back at the table Anakin excused himself, saying he was going to the bathroom. His tall figure stalked up the stairs, stopping in front of the guest bedroom’s door. He leaned closer, slowing his breathing to check if he could hear her. It was silent, proving that she was probably asleep.

With a gentle turn of the doorknob, he pushed the door open, his eyes landing on her sleeping figure almost immediately.

His heart beat faster in his chest as he shut the door behind him, stepping closer to gaze at her sleeping face, the only light came from the tv that softly played in the background. From what he could tell, she was perfect. Perfect face, perfect lips, perfect body.

Oh, he loved her body. The way she’d wear low cut tops, her cleavage almost spilling from the fabric. The pants she’d wear were tight, sometimes too tight and he’d have to excuse himself to jerk off in the bathroom. All he wanted was to get his hands, his mouth on her and do as he pleased. He knew he could treat her better, fuck her better than his brother. She needed a man like him, someone who could handle her, fuck her tired when she couldn’t sleep, when she was bratty, he’d do it all with a smile.

He’d teach her how to be the perfect whore, he knew she’d be eager to please him, to learn how to take it.

His pants tightened at the thought and he couldn’t stop himself from hooking his fingers in the comforter and dragging it down to her ankles. She was wearing a tank top and shorts, shorts that would have killed him if she wore them around him. The globes of her ass strained the material and he thanked whatever god was listening to his prayers and brought her into his life.

“So pretty.” He mumbled, his voice thick with need. The shorts were cute but had to go so he softly yanked them down and off, leaving them discarded on the floor. He bit down a smile at the panties she adorned, white lace, it was almost like she was doing this on purpose.

His gaze flicked upward, checking if she was stirring awake at all. When he knew it was safe to keep going he spread her legs, almost moaning at her panty-clad mound. It took every ounce of self restraint to not tear the lacy material off and force his aching cock inside of her.

She laid on her stomach, shielding her breasts from him which he didn’t really appreciate. He thought about flipping her over but that was too risky and he was on a time crunch. So he pushed down his pants and boxers just enough to free his cock, his hand lazily stroking as he positioned himself behind her. She had such an effect on him, his tip already leaking pearls of pre cum as he pushed her panties to the side.

The gentle musk of her had his eyes rolling to the back of his head, oh what he wouldn’t give to press his face against her pussy and live out the rest of his days there. Another shaky breath left him as he leaned on his hands over her, guiding himself to her core.

The first touch had goosebumps spreading over his clothed skin, and this time he couldn’t stop himself from fully pushing forward and filling her up. His mouth parted and his hips stuttered at the heavenly feel of her tight walls enveloping him. It took a few soft thrusts to fully get inside her but he didn’t care, the house could be burning down at that moment and he still wouldn’t have cared.

She made a few sounds in her sleep, moving a little but didn’t wake up. His gaze was fierce as he stared at the side of her face as his thrusts picked up, her eyebrows knit together a moment later. Lowering himself to her back, his chest pressed against it and he nudged his hands under her to get to her breasts, harshly groping when he made contact. Anakin lets out a strained groan into her neck, feeling like he was on cloud nine.

He fucked her like they’ve been married for years, like this wasn’t the first time, like she wasn’t engaged to his little brother. Her body lunged forward every thrust and soon her eyes were creaking open.

He didnt care, his hand made quick work of leaving her breast and pressing tightly against her mouth. His cock twitched when she fully came to and tried to push him off, her feeble attempts made this so much hotter.

“‘uh-uh, baby, you’re not going anywhere. Be a good girl and take it.” He panted into her ear, his forehead pressed against the side of her head.

She was beyond confused, but the one thing she knew is that he felt amazing in her. Anakin’s tip kissed her cervix every thrust, her fiancé had never done that before.

Anakin was big, she could feel the veins on his shaft, she could feel how he split her in half to accommodate his size. It was mind numbing as he picked up the pace, even just the way his broad frame shadowed her own. He could break her in half if he wanted and it had a muffled whimper leaving her throat.

The man above her smirked, it was lewd and predatory. He was right, she was a whore, a slut for good dick. He hummed against her ear, pressing harder against her mouth so her head was pushed back further. He slowed his hips, opting for pushing deeper in her.

She groaned into his hand, pushing back into his hips as best she could, trying to signal for him to speed up again. He chuckled darkly, digging his teeth into his bottom lip, the action threatened to draw blood but he didnt pay any mind to it.

Most people would’ve been distraught by now, but not her. She wanted this and he knew it. She stuffed her hand down and into her panties, toying with her puffy clit in fast circles.

“You want more? You’re fucking pathetic, begging your fiancé’s brother to fuck you faster. What would he say if he saw you dripping all over my dick? Hm? If he saw you being fucked stupid.” He taunted cruelly, he decided to drive into her again, fast enough to make her brain stop working but not fast enough to have the bed make any noise.

The realness of his words caused her stomach to tighten in worry, but the idea that his brother could walk in any moment and catch them had her squeezing Anakin’s cock and coming around him hard. A broken moan leaves her, still muffled by his hand thankfully. Humiliation nips at her because of how fast she came, but she couldn’t help it. She’s touched herself to this exact scenario multiple times, being taken roughly and without choice by him.

The euphoric feeling had her toes curling, her fingers digging into the sheets below, and her eyes rolling.

“That’s a good girl, pussy so fucking tight.” The feeling of her orgasm had his balls tightening, he was getting close. Her gummy, wet walls almost suctioning around him was lethal, and he would happily die right then and there. Lodged in the most perfect pussy he’s ever fucked.

“Gonna cum inside you, fill you up. Kay, baby?” She nodded quickly, sweat dripping down the sides of her face. Anakin wasn’t any better, drops of sweat dripped onto her hair and the back of her neck.

A muffled “please” came from her and he groaned, probably a bit too loud before his hips stuttered once more. He pressed himself as far as he could inside her and pressed his face into the junction of her neck and shoulder, painting her walls white.

“That’s it, taking it so well.” He murmured, gently thrusting before coming to a stop. The pair panted, catching their breaths before he gripped her hips and pulled out. White leaked from her abused hole, making it almost impossible for Anakin to get up.

But he did, pulling his pants and boxers back up. She thought he was going to leave just like that, but he leaned over to firmly grasp her hair, tugging her head backwards so he could duck down and sloppily connect their lips. It’s all teeth and tongue but has a familiar feeling stirring in her gut again.

“Don’t waste what I gave you, I’ll check tomorrow.” His gaze bores into hers and she dumbly nods. Tapping her cheek meanly, he stood back up straight, stretching his arms to get rid of the stiffness in his joints before he cast one last glance at her debauched form and left. She tried to call out to him softly but he didn’t turn back, only shutting the door silently.

[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

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it's called love <3 || charles leclerc 16

type: one shot pairing: charles leclerc x reader word count: 3.2k summary: going to a gp with your boyfriend who's really protective when a creepy dude comes a little too close for comfort. requested: yes! '' Ok maybe something you are waiting for charles leclerc (you’re bf of 5yrs) and like a creep starts talking to you but you are polite and are just like no please go away. Then he starts like touching you(if you’re uncomfortable with that you can just write that the creep is like in your face) and charles is like losing his shit when he sees it. Have a lovely day 💗'' Requests are CLOSED!!! warnings: angst!charles, harassment? (not detailed, only mentioned), overprotective!charles, anxiety. notes: OH MY GODNESS I'M BACK BABY! Have you missed me? It's been SOOOOO long, I've missed you so much! It's been over 4 months!!! 4 MONTHS! I'm so glad many of you stayed, remember I was at 700 followers and I was doing the 700 drabbles celebration? well, I'm now at 970 followers. I will do a BIG thing for 1K followers, I'm just not sure what. If you have any ideas, let me now in my inbox :) Also, credits to creator of the GIF! Not proofread!

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Your hands rubbed themselves together, your cold fingers getting warmer every second, slowly, but surely. The wind moved your hair slightly, the small locks that framed your face getting stuck on lips which was coated with a nice layer of lip balm which was preventing them from being dry.

5 years, that’s how long you and your boyfriend had been together for. It was long, but not long enough. You knew he was the one, you just felt it. The way he treated you in front of your families was like you and him had been together forever. He was so polite to your parents, got along great with your siblings and always made sure to grab your mothers’ favourite chocolates and your fathers’ favourite beer before going to visit them with you. He was the definition of a perfect boyfriend.

You always tried your hardest to return the favour. Supporting him whenever you could, wherever you could. A red jacket was one of those ways to support him. The red sneakers, paired with the black jeans and red blazer was a way to blend in with the tifosi, but also to support Charles whenever he was driving the shit out of that car. You were supportive, and he knew.

You had promised him to meet him at the hotel in Australia, since you had arrived there a few hours before he would, his plane being delayed due to weather circumstances. The reason you weren’t flying together could get blamed on your work, as you had set meetings in a few minutes, you were either going on a plane which would arrive a few hours earlier, or a day later. You obviously chose the first option.

‘Almost there, bella, just a few more minutes <3’

He was never one to use emoji’s, he was more of an old school guy in that way. Smileys consisting of a colon and a bracket was his way of communicating whenever he was happy, and a left angle bracket followed by the number three made the perfect heart for you.

You rubbed your hands together once more as you were waiting near the entrance of the hotel. You were able to get inside and go to his room – at least you thought – so after a few more minutes of waiting you decided to do so.

‘’Hi, could I check in please?’’ You politely asked the brown-haired lady that was seated behind the desk. She was young, probably around 20 years old. She seemed a little nervous, as she was accompanied by a lady on her left. That lady was older, around her mid 40’s, and had long, blonde hair.

‘’Yeah, of course, what’s the name of the reservation?’’ It was probably the young lady’s first day, as she was following a tight script of questions to ask.

‘’I think it’s on Charles Leclerc, or Ferrari F1 team.’’ You smiled at the younger lady, before looking over as you felt the eyes of the older woman on you.

It never happened that you were checking in before him or any of his team, but you really had to get that meeting started.

‘’Sorry lady, but you’re not the first one to try come in this hotel.’’ The older woman said, and you furrowed your eyebrows a little at her comment.

‘’Excuse me?’’ You replied, your eyes moving from the younger lady to the older one. ‘’I know it might seem weird, but my boyfriend will arrive in a few minutes, and I have a meeting to get to, I’m sure the team doesn’t mind if I enter first.’’ You kindly responded, a soft and gentle smile on your face. ‘’He told me you were aware of this.’’ You continued, knowing Charles had told the team about the situation, and they must have told the hotel.

‘’Look, darling, we understand your problem, but there is a nice café next to the restaurant of the hotel where you can have the meeting. Those drivers want their privacy as well, and with all due respect, you’re the fourth girl trying to get into the hotel with a story like this. I’m sure you’ll get a chance to meet them, but you’ll have to do that around the track.’’ She replied, which made your mind spin. You were speechless, mostly because she thought you were a fan, but also because apparently the team hadn’t let the hotel know you were arriving earlier.

‘’I think there must have been some kind of mistake here.’’ You told the lady, but remaining to stay polite, they were doing their job, which you could only appreciate. ‘’But it’s alright, I’ll just wait here in the lobby till they arrive.’’ You said, grabbing your passport which was laying on the desk, along with your phone.

‘’Oh no, the lobby is only for hotel guests, dear, you’ll have to wait outside with the rest of them.’’ You turned around, slowly, leaning over a little to have a look at the outside of the hotel, the entrance, the gate which was closed. The gate where dozens of fans were waiting to catch a glimpse of their favourite driver.

You couldn’t be there, you’d get mobbed, knowing all too well those fans knew who you were. You didn’t want to be rude, or show off that you were Charles’ girlfriend, so you simply swallowed thickly and looked back at the lady.

‘’With all respect, miss, I’m going to get swarmed if I exit this hotel.’’ You said, reaching for your phone. ‘’I can promise you I’m not a fan, I know it might look like it, but I believe something went wrong with the message. I am Charles’ girlfriend; you can look up my name on Google if you’d like.’’ You said, showing the lady your passport with your name.

‘’I know her.’’ The younger lady spoke and looked over at you, nervously. The older lady looked at the pictures online, and her face immediately appeared to be full of guilt, shame. The younger girl looked at the woman and bit her bottom lip, a clear sign of nervosity. ‘’I do recall Rebecca mentioning something like this, there was a note on her desk this morning.’’

After both employees apologized more than once, they offered you the key for the room. However, you knew Charles would be arriving soon, so you asked them if it was okay for you to stay seated in the lobby till the team would arrive. They immediately agreed and offered you some fresh drinks on the house. 

You had just finished your meeting, which took around 30 minutes, before you could hear the fans screaming their lungs out. You got up, placed your laptop in your bag and zipped it up, making your way towards the hallway of the entrance.

‘’Babe!’’ Charles immediately had a big smile on his face when he saw you standing in the hotel.

‘’Hey, baby.’’ You giggled, feeling how his arms wrapped around your waist tightly. You could never get enough of his hugs, his embraces, it felt like heaven.

‘’How did your meeting go?’’ He asked, stepping to the side with you still in his arms to let the rest of the Ferrari team enter the hotel.

-

‘’You ready, amour?’’ You heard Charles’ low voice against your ear, his arms were tightly wrapped around your waist as he was pressing his chest against your back. You had just gotten ready to go to the track with him. Your love language was touch, and it made the both of you fall for one another even harder.

Once you had arrived at the track, the two of you passed the entrance of the paddock, many fans asking the Monegasque driver for an autograph or a selfie. It wasn’t something he wasn’t used to, and you had learned to get used to it those years you were with him. People loved him, adored him, and you could only feel proud of that same man that was loved by many.

You both decided to take a break and take a seat in the hospitality area, talking about work, your upcoming holiday and much more. Your eyes moved over his face, listening to how he was passionately talking about all the things they did at the factory a few days ago. The way his eyes were shining brightly, that small sparkle in them that could light up your day. He’d had a few rough seasons here at Ferrari, but this year went better than ever, with him leading the championship, Carlos being second in the rankings as well. Ferrari was doing much better.

‘’Come on, let’s say hi to the engineers.’’ He reached for your hand, his soft and warm one perfectly fitting into yours, like if you were made for one another. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze the moment he felt your fingers intertwining with his, and it felt reassuring. You were in love, and he made sure everybody knew.

As you walked towards the pit area, into the pitlane, you noticed a man staring at you. It made you uncomfortable, but you quickly brushed it off, assuming that it was just a fan who recognized Charles and was trying to get a closer look at the two of you.

You kept walking, holding Charles’ hand and smiled at his engineers as he greeted them.

‘’Y/n, hey, long time no see.’’ Some of the guys walked over to give you a hug, which you gladly returned.

‘’Hey guys, how are you doing?’’ You started talking to them, and Charles occasionally looked over into your direction. He felt so lucky to have you, he really was on cloud nine.

After catching up with the guys from the team, as well as talking to some of the girls on the team, you decided to walk towards the fence, moving your head from left to right to see all the teams nicely positioned in their garage boxes, working on their cars.

When you first started dating Charles, you were nervous when you’d come here, knowing people would look at you, perhaps even judge you for being Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend. But the gentleman he was, he found a way to reassure you, make you feel comfortable and keep you safe from all the paparazzi and fans that tried to get close to you.

As you were waiting, you noticed that same man from earlier step closer to you, causing you to look at him. Maybe he just wanted to have a talk, maybe he was an interviewer, or a fan?

The more he spoke, the more you got the idea he was the latter, a fan, but not particularly of Charles. You felt uncomfortable, nervous, but did not want to be rude and simply walk away. But Charles noticed. He was looking for you, since you were no longer in the garage, and the moment he saw the look on your face, and that man standing not even half a meter away from you, he sensed something was wrong.

He saw that man talking to you, and immediately made his way over towards them. As he approached, he heard the man ask if you wanted to go have a drink with him after the race.

Charles felt his blood boil. He was furious that someone was trying to hit on you, his girlfriend, right here in front of his eyes. He stepped in between the two of you, causing the man to step away to create some sort of space between him and Charles, who was glaring at him with piercing eyes.

‘’Excuse me, do you mind stepping away from my girlfriend?’’ He said, his voice dangerously low. You had never heard him talk like this, but it gave you some reassurance, once again.

The man, who had not expected Charles to react in such a manner, backed away immediately. Your boyfriend then placed a protective arm around you, walking away from that man.

‘’Do you know him?’’ He asked, clearly still somewhat angry at what just happened. You could see the anger still prominent on his face. Although you appreciated his concern, and you were glad he stepped in at that time, you didn’t want him to get into any trouble because of you.

You reached out for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before looking into his eyes the moment you were back in the garage. You shook your head at his question, but immediately tried to calm him down as you saw it made him even more mad.

‘’It’s okay, Charles. Thank you for protecting me, but please don’t get yourself into any trouble.’’ You said, your voice soft and calming. It helped, because you noticed Charles calming down at your words, something you always seemed to do.

He took a deep breath and looked at you, your eyes filled with love and understanding. He knew that he was lucky to have you by his side, and he didn’t want anything to come in between you two. It felt like his duty was to keep you safe, to keep you his.

‘’I’m sorry, y/n. I just can’t stand the thought of anyone trying to hurt you. You mean the world to me.’’ Charles said, his voice sincere. You knew he was meaning every single word he just said.

You simply smiled as a reply and leaned in closer to him, your lips brushing his gently before you placed a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth, causing those corners to curl upward into a smile.

-

You watched the race along with his team, standing the entire time as you were nervous. You always were, because you were aware of the fact one single mistake could have big consequences, such as the car diving into the wall, with a driver still inside of it.

As the race came to an end, Charles ended up on the podium, something that had become a habit lately. The trophies at your place were starting to become more and more, and the pole position tyres were almost filling up an entire room already. But you didn’t mind, you were proud of him, and you were hoping he’d get even more trophies, and even more tyres.

As Charles was climbing out of the car, he immediately searched for you, and the moment he saw you standing in the crowd, he smiled, everybody could see it in his eyes. He went for a dive into his team, receiving pats on the back and on his helmet. He took off his helmet, along with his balaclava, and he made his way over towards you. You were already feeling the cameras and phones being in your face, but you didn’t care. He won, and that’s the most important thing here.

He pressed his lips on yours, cupping your cheek and pulling away after a second or three as he had more duties to fulfil. You watched him get to the back, into the cooldown room before he was ready to take on the big trophy.

-

You were watching behind the cameras as Charles talked to the interviewer, occasionally looking into your direction to check if you were listening, and you were, to every little thing he said. You supported him, no matter what.

However, once he walked towards Sky Sports, you got accompanied by someone else. It was that man again, the one that asked you out for a drink.

‘’So, you up for that drink now?’’ He asked, a smirk plastered on his face. Charles was doing his interviews, so at the moment, he was focussed on the interviewer, his back facing you as it was on the other side of the media pen.

‘’Sorry but no, I’m not interested.’’ You politely rejected the man, but he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. It was at this moment you got scared, as he kept getting closer and closer to you.

‘’Come on, dear, I’m sure you’d love to spend some time with me.’’ The man said, his hand slowly reaching up to brush your cheek. You immediately took a step backwards, looking around to see Charles still facing the interviewer, his back facing you.

‘’I don’t, really, please leave me alone.’’ You were starting to get nervous, anxious, because it was so crowded here, all the drivers were here, so that’s where everybody’s attention went to. And he knew, the man knew nobody was here to protect you at this moment. Nobody to tell that man to back off but yourself.

‘’Why would you say no? Come on, let me buy you a drink, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.’’ He smirked, tucking some hair behind your ear. He was getting too close, and you were looking around for help.

It was like he was aware you were nervous, but Charles looked around in the middle of his interview to try and find you. He looked behind the camera, but didn’t see you, so he simply looked back at the position you were during his other interview. And then he saw it, and the anger that was gone first came back immediately.

Without any apology to the interviewer, Charles jumped over the fence, stepping towards you and that man with heavy feet. The anger in his face was present, and it made all the camera’s, all the interviewers face him, record him.

‘’Mate, I think you didn’t get the first warning earlier today.’’ He said, stepping in between the two of you again, his arm wrapped around your shoulder protectively. You were shaking ever so slightly, feeling all cameras on the three of you.

‘’Back off, seriously, leave my girlfriend alone.’’ Charles stated, his voice low, on the edge of mad, angry, furious. You immediately reached for his left hand, the arm that was around your shoulder, and you gave him a gentle squeeze.

‘’Love, don’t get yourself in any trouble.’’ You whispered, which seemed to calm him just a tiny bit, but not enough. The man in front of you kept looking at you, and not at Charles, which only built the anger up inside of your boyfriend even more.

‘’Stop looking at her, leave her alone, step away from her.’’ He said, his eyes clearly showing he was furious. The security soon arrived, multiple people asking them to go to the media pen, so they did.

‘’This man, he’s harassing my girl, please get him away from here.’’ Charles spoke, and you felt how his grip around your shoulders tightened a little, pulling you closer to his body in order to keep you safe. The security soon took the man away, telling Charles they would handle it.

-

After the interviews, in which Charles made sure you were directly behind the interviewer so he wouldn’t lose you out his sight anymore, the both of you safely made your way back to the hotel. Your phones were already blowing up, you were trending on almost every social media platform out there. Pictures and videos of Charles jumping over the fence, him talking to that man, protecting you, people calling Charles an absolute hero, because he was.

He knew that he would always do whatever it takes to protect her, no matter what challenges lay ahead. Together, they knew that their love would always keep them strong and safe, because they always protected each other, and reassured each other. That’s what they had, and that’s called love.

[weebsinstash]

hey, can I have more husband and wife family dynamics with thragg? maybe more about her pregnancy or the kids' childhood/baby time?

Sure can! It's been pretty fun writing about potential scenarios where this monstrous piece of shit can actually feel love. First and foremost I was watching a video on YouTube going over this scene again and uh Comic Readers KNOW How Fucked This Man Is. um, out of context vague spoilers but, I'm assuming people asking about Thragg have read the comics or are curious about the comics but like yall Need To Know how he treats the kids of his enemies

I feel like I need to share/remind people of this scene because like, this man can be kind of hard to pin down. He's from this loveless society that sees kindness as weakness and he's like King Dickhead but there are still times when he can be quite courteous, even apologetic, sarcastic, whatever. I think at the end of the day he's just a very selfish, explosive, emotionally impulsive man but revisiting this scene was a little surprising for me since I forgot he was even like, capable of "small kindnesses" like saying sorry or whatever. Like. Is him wiping her tears while smearing blood all over her face a well intentioned accident or is he like waging psychological warfare on this like, i think she's literally 5 years old. What is the purpose of him apologizing to a child for splashing blood of her family member on her when he intends to kill her or leave her for dead in front of her dying parents anyways. I'm still trying to get a feel on this man

THAT BEING SAID, moving on, we're talking about a yandere Thragg today and thankfully that comes with perks

- it's pretty obvious but like, you are his favorite mate and your children are his favorite children. I like to think of concepts with Reader being Ursaal and Onaan's mother or even the previously mentioned triplet idea with Mark being their sibling (otherwise I'd have to invent new characters and that doesn't, resonate the same, and I also really like Ursaal actually and I feel like there's some real story potential in Ursaal discovering more of her humanity through her mother's kindness and wanting to protect her mother from her father)

-can you imagine like. I still think about the idea where you're actually Nolan's mate but one day you mouth off to Thragg and he "puts you in your place" in front of Nolan as a punishment to you both and like a month later you find out you're pregnant and, I imagine abortions are only done on Viltrum if the fetus is too weak or defective, so you're forced to carry it and you and Nolan are lying that it's his and then one day Thragg just, passes by, sees your swelling tummy, takes one sniff of you, "it's mine" and demands a paternity test. And you'd think, "oh surely he'd just take the baby" which is what you'd prefer but, no it becomes a pretext for him to steal you from Nolan altogether

-you're fed incredibly nutrient dense, protein packed, ultimate pregnancy food because Thragg wants those babies as healthy as possible. Thragg has probably had other alien kids before but these are his first hybrid or nearly fully Viltrumite children and that makes them special. New dad Thragg holding up these little absolute mammoths of newborns with all their chunk and pudge and rolls and he's just so proud, "look at how robust these children are! Surely they have inherited my strength! Fine additions to the Viltrum Empire were born on this day" and you're like half awake in bed and he just, pets your hair

-ok just. Ok just picture it like. You're pregnant and upset and so stressed out because you didn't want to be Nolan's mate after he helped conquer Earth but at least you had known him and liked him initially. You're just constantly stressed out and angry and watching every single word you say around Thragg because you don't know him or what he's capable of, but I imagine a sort of scenario where he's taking you to the doctor and running tests and procedures and just, you know prenatal checkup stuff, but the doctors are all speaking to Thragg instead of you, you aren't even being told your own test results, and the two of you finally arrive back home and you just break down crying and kind of tear into him, "I'm sure YOU have had lots of kids before but I'VE never had a baby before and I don't know what to expect or what's going to happen or- or -" and you're just bawling because, it's not a lie you're scared. You're having a baby and you're gonna be a new mom and it's entirely against your will, out of your control, and that's incredibly stressful. And this becomes a moment where Thragg actually shows some humanity by sitting you down and discussing the doctors visit with you, and that's one of the first times the two of you actually have a civil, extended conversation

Thragg thinking he's so fucking big and tough and then he sees you this little fragile fleshy untrained civillian with the big teary boo hoo eyes with your shaking hands on your little belly as you cry about being scared about giving birth to his baby and he's just, "shit I DO have feelings" and immediately feels the overwhelming need to comfort you. He'll comfort you under the guise of "stress isn't good for the children" which is true but, it's him blanketing his own concern and masking it under an excuse

-I kind of feel like that hypothetical event would be like, a footnote in your relationship. He starts treating you differently, attentive in new ways, more... emotional ways. He'll stop by while he's working on a break or something to check on with you and the assigned caretakers he has guarding you (because the very second you're confirmed pregnant you have 24/7 security) and he'll awkwardly grunt out questions about, have you eaten yet, are you experiencing any pain today, any discomfort, any new symptoms. He'll check in with your guards/nannies privately about if there's anything you're doing that he needs to know about, give tou a nice husbandly shoulder touch and then (reluctantly) getting back to work

-to be blunt part of me questions if he even has sex to create children or if he uses something akin to IVF and I only say this because of the absolute ASSEMBLY LINE he sets up on Thraxia. Trust me though he beats the kitty up with you CONSTANTLY

-I actually think after giving birth is like the ONE time you're allowed any birth control because apparently if you have too many pregnancies in too close time frames it actually sucks the calcium out of your bones and can give you osteoarthritis and Thragg wants you healthy, "for more future children obviously" which is such a lie because let's say you have your miracle birth of giving him twins or triplets or whatever but you hemmorage and become infertile or whatever. Mf is STILL keeping you around. When you think about it he technically doesn't even need you to help raise his children, he has people for that, but he forces you to be part of the process anyways

- tbh I kind of like the idea of Thragg developing some weird fucking like complex where he discovers he feels comforted cuddling you, like man gets hit by oxytocin like a fucking freight train, and it becomes him literally being unable to sleep without you in his arms. You could be in a yelling screaming argument with this man and he suddenly like, just completely shuts you down, "ENOUGH!! I require rest and I won't tolerate anymore of your childish whining!" And you could be spitting mad at him and he's just, picking you up just physically picks you up and drags you to bed anyways. Hooks his arms around your waist as the big spoon and buries his face in your hair even as you spit insults about how you hope he kills himself

Like I think I've mentioned this idea with other characters before but imagine Thragg waking up on the middle of the night IMMEDIATELY PISSED because the bed beside him is cold and he finds you on the couch, on the couch, maybe even without blankets and visibly uncomfortable, because yeah he WILL wake you up to drag you back to bed with him.

- Thragg being this warrior who literally watched people be disembowled and tortured and conquered races but suddenly you're in labor and he's in the delivery room (he refuses to wait outside) watching you literally scream in pain and he just, takes your hand and tells you to squeeze, and that it'll be alright, and he sees you so vulnerable and scared and emotional and you're looking to him for some kind of help but he can't, even with all his strengths and feats he can't help you right now, however this pregnancy goes is up to fate and the doctors and he feels like an actual visceral HUMBLING sense of helplessness that just makes him, even more obsessively protective over you

- deadass if it becomes a "he can only save one: you or the children" life-threatening pregnancy scenario, he chooses you. Says you can always try again but even if you wind up infertile and "useless" to him, he's too attached to you at this point, it doesn't matter if you "don't serve a function" or whatever bullshit Viltrumite mindset he may have had with previous mates before. You're different to him, and you're making HIM different as a person

- You're just half alive on the couch because Giving Birth is Hard and here's Thragg doing shit like personally bringing you water, feeling your forehead for any fever, monitoring your condition, aggressively interrogating your guards for extra info, sitting beside you with your babies in his arms. He lets you rest after giving birth and nearly bends over backwards

- I feel like at some point you're forced to accept a lot of real fucked up stuff and especially if you are a hybrid Vultrimite yourself and thus will be with Thragg for, basically forever, like some real "mate, do you have any cravings today. What do the children require" "ummm... at the ceremony last month, there was that... blue, little.... crab thing?" "A Florkian. They are incredibly rare" "oh... I'm sorry, I didn't know-" " -and since I observed that you were fond of the taste when you were consuming them, I went ahead and conquered their homeworld and farms have been established. I can have the slaves prepare a dish for you right away" "oh, thank you, ive been craving it ever since i ate it but i didnt want to bother by asking 🥰" "as your mate it is my duty to provide for you. Do not keep any of your desires from me"

- your children are getting trained as soldiers the second they develop powers and that's something you'll have to get used to. If your little babies get their powers at 5, they're still learning combat, getting knocked around, near beaten, "toughened up". Thragg will conceal the full extent of how they're treated from you because the way he sees it, you weren't raised on Viltrum and you're simply ignorant of their culture. He doesn't need you to accept how things are. Your kids will come home with black eyes and bruises and bloodied noses and he'll growl at you not to make them too soft as you weep over Ursaal missing a chunk of her hair because an opponent grabbed her by it and she had to break away and some was ripped out at her scalp, like. The psychological damage of asking your small child how their day with their father went, "it was excellent mother, I made my first kill!!" And then gleefully describing to you in detail how while their father was fighting an enemy soldier, the soldiers child attacked yours, and, your baby killed another kid. Like. That's the sort of thing you have to be raised with to block out of your heart. Going to hug your child who may not even be 10 years old and they have literal blood on their hands

-personal headcanon but also semi canon but I imagine Ursaal is the most competent of your twins and is Thragg's favorite. She just has a better tactical mind on her shoulders and isn't, uh. As horribly sadistically violent as Onaan. Like say your kids become platonic yandere or whatever, or, you have your own kids with thragg and the twins are separate but still attached to you. Onaan is the kid you find killing cats because he's jealous they get more attention than him while Ursaal is like, giving her father incredibly detailed reports and her own insight into what you've been up to, how you're feelings, things you say and do when Thragg isn't around

-so I know y'all see that image I posted with Thragg and his twins. I tried to censor, The Cape last time but I realized like, even with censoring the head it's still super obvious who that is, there's only one white furred creature in this entire show. I imagine after Thragg gets his Beast Drip that, once Throkk's daughter comes for revenge, she is also slaughtered, and her pelt becomes YOUR cape. Or maybe Thragg offhandedly mentions to you that BB Jr has vowed vengeance and you're casually flipping through a book, "is she as strong as her father, like if you had to rate it 1 to 10 with her father being 10 and 1 being a human. If the daughter is at about a 7 or below, Ursaal should be able to handle her, get herself a nice coat to match her father" and Thragg feels this warmth in his chest to hear you're actually observant of his/your children and their prowess, especially to hear you praise Ursaal in such a uh violent context, just casually suggesting his daughter could turn another sentient humanoid creature into a pelt to wear. This is another example of "living the viltrum life will eventually dehumanize you and rob you of certain empathies"

- I don't think you would actually have a title but could you imagine if Thragg decides you're like, officially his true mate, like the mate above all others, like you're the Empress in his little harem of concubines and ladies in waiting. I hc that your official title is something like Grand Duchess or perhaps if this is the twin/triplet scenario something more vaguely historical sounding like The High Mother or Regent Mother or, you get the point

-I still think "Reader turns out to be an incredibly late blooming hybrid" is a neat concept but I also don't know how they would miss that since during your pregnancy and all you're receiving medical care out the ass but like. Thragg personally training both you and the children as a family. Would be kind of humiliating honestly because it's kind of vaguely implied you should learn things before the kids do and if you struggle, here's Thragg, telling his kids in private they have to protect you and keep an eye on you and report any problems back to him

- thragg would definitely be training you in hand to hand but suddenly finds he can't bear hitting you in the face or hitting you at a certain strength. Like. Absolutely 100% you're gonna have a lot of scenarios where you're brawling or wrestling and he pins you and it swiftly transitions to you getting rawdogged from your high on adrenaline husband. Tbh that sex would probably be his favorite, where he has to defeat you in combat and then rewards himself. Can probably border from hatesex to consensual to noncon, not that he has a problem doing THAT to you either

- probably has portraits done of you and him. Idk do you think Viltrum has like enough art culture for portraits to be a thing? Most fascist tyrants have portraits. He would have several done: you and him, just you, you while pregnant, him and you while pregnant, you holding your babies, you and him holding your babies, and family shots as they grow up. Say you conquer a planet together as a family and one day you're revisiting and there's some sort of museum set up amd you find like a wall length portrait of, you and your children soaked in blood tearing carnage through the fire and flames and Thragg is beside you just nodding in approval, "they captured your image rather well"

- goooooddddd imagine you're just a normal human and you progressively start showing signs of aging. You start getting more wrinkles. Your body starts working in different ways, popping, cracking, aching. Onaan, Ursaal, and Thragg all notice and they're like FREAKING OUT HONESTLY. The children don't want to accept that their mother is actually going to be a speck on the timeline of their entire lifespans. Thragg doesn't want to accept that he has to let you go and you're never coming back. They all become obsessed with finding ways to keep you young, keep you alive, fuck it they'll clone you and transfer your consciousness into a new body if they have to! This is comic book world and these are obsessed aliens and they have OPTIONS

- something something "what if Reader isn't a viltrumite hybrid but is still like super-powered or a mutant or whatever and this isn't revealed until you like are fatally injured or even DIE die and suddenly you, pop back up". Cause I feel like this "close call" would drive any yandere literally insane because, what if there's no second chance, what just happened, can you still die, they can never never never never never allow you to get hurt ever ever ever again

Thragg just walks into the kitchen and you have the stove top red hot and you've just got your palm resting on it and you look to him kind of just shocked, all, "look... nothing happens... I just feel some of the warmth" and Thragg just puts his fist through your oven anyways, "you could've gotten hurt" and immediately picking you up and carrying you to some sort of perceived "safer place"

- this is like a specific scenario but like, can you imagine as a mom you like to brush and comb Ursaal's hair and you idly suggest she could always grow it out more and you could help braid it and things, but once it starts getting longer Thragg objects and says it could get grabbed during a fight and orders her to cut it but you step in and say she shouldnt have to, it's HER hair, and you two get into it, and one day Ursaal is brought home by her father and he's all but shaved her head after she had actually grown it out to a decent length. You and Thragg are at odds over how to treat rhe children and Ursaal begins to realize that many of the restrictions her father instills on her are because of a way of life she may not fully agree with, a life filled with violence and bloodshed with no room for love or kindness or creativity. She probably helps you from going over the edge too, honestly. If anything else through this life with Thragg, in your darkest places you may still find yourself thinking you have to keep going to try and help your children

- with others, Thragg is the kind of yandere where he's standing in the same room as you and you're both doing completely different things and he suddenly says, "so I noticed during the meeting that your eyes kept lingering on my mate" and without further warning he's beating up someone on the accusation they were lusting for his wife, no discussion, just fists , and he'll do shit like this a lot to the point people don't feel comfortable being around you and you're just further socially isolated

- I feel like Thragg would have some weird like fondness slash fetish for watching you breastfeed. Like, awww here's his cute little wife with his chubby little babies and you're giving them their nice milk, what a good mom, providing for the babies he put in your belly ❤️ part of me is convinced if you're a viltrumite or hybrid or whatever that you uh. Eventually wind up with a lot of babies. A LOT of babies. Do you think he would want a specific amount or its just vibes. Like you're over 300 years old and you've already got 50 kids with him but he sees you teaching one of your youngest sons how to throw a punch and suddenly he wants another

- all I'm saying is if he ever catches you self harming or attempting to hurt yourself he's gonna have a real extreme reaction. Like he finds you cutting yourself with a broken glass and you're immediately restrained and taken to a hospital, completely stripped, inspected for other wounds, and if there are any and especially a lengthy history of them, you're in such trouble. But I also think it would be extremely difficult to hide this from him since as time goes on you two are constantly having sex or he's inviting himself into your shower to bathe with you. You accidentally bang your arm on a counter or something and get a tiny bruise, this man will know about it and wants a detailed report on where it came from

- even when you guys aren't super familiar with each other and you've "just met" he's already protective and all that. Like you've just been brought into his home and you barely even know him still and he may even act mean and angry to you and then one day he sees you have a large bruise on your arm, "what is this?" ".... it's nothing, Grand Regent" "I asked you a question and you'll answer me: where did this come from" "... I spoke out of turn with one of your advisors and turned to leave without permission, Grand Regent" "And so they grabbed you?" "Yes Grand Regent" "who" "it was my fault, I-" "WHO" and the second you give a name or description he's wordlessly leaving the room and shows up again HOURS later with visible blood on him, "it has been handled. You are not to be harmed or punished without my permission or instruction"

- in some scenario where you leave the kids behind and try to run away, like... he isn't just gonna throw up his hands, "well I already got children out of her, she has served her purpose" and leave you the fuck alone. If anything this man would track you down just to tell you off for having the fucking nerve to disobey and defy him! I can picture an actively captured wife where you are constantly kept on some kind of restraint or have a bracelet or collar or even a LEAD THAT HE HOLDS and you're IMPRISONED rather than "I'm being monitored but otherwise I have my own agency". Thragg will make himself a throne that you can be chained to if he has to. He'll have restraints made that are decorative and complimentary of your features. Imagine he's making some sort of public appearance and while he's speaking he's got an arm around your waist and you're pulled up against him and meanwhile you've got. A bar gag and cannot speak

- really, truly, in a way, you become a symbol, but one of all different kinds. There are Viltrumites who see how their mighty Grand Regent treats his mate and they are viscerally disgusted (Kregg and Lucan comes to mind), like people who really start to question the society they are living in, questioning if it really must be so selfish and devoid of empathy, questioning if they really want to keep living this way and for their children and their children's children to live like this. Then there are others who see the way the Grand Regent controls his mate and see its as a sign of strength and permission to treat their own mates the same.

Mostly, though... the only thing that will take you away from Thragg is death. Until the day one of you dies, you're stuck with him, and there's basically no one around who's stronger than he is, period. You might as well cozy up and get friendly with your new husband, since you're going to be together for a long time and spend lots, and lots, and LOTS of time together ❤️

[mickeyswhore]

Billy's Plaything

A/N: Part 2? Maybe?

Summary: Billy is your stepbrother, he makes you embarrassed. What happens when you tease him instead?

Billy Loomis x Reader

Warnings: inappropriate step-sibling relationship, creepy behaviour, light smut.

GIF by @coppoladelrey

You hated Billy Loomis, despised him. You often dreamed about him being dead, but that was only half of the time, the other half you wanted him in your bed, you dreamed about him fucking you in the best way possible, or when both of those emotions collided and you thought about fucking Billy Loomis after he came to your bedroom to yell at you.

After his mother left, his father found a nice woman to settle down with. The only problem? That was your mother, and the two of you met and it was clear as day that you hated him and he hated you but both of your parents were too in love to notice the animosity, ever since your father died when you were 5, your mother was never in a relationship and she was so happy, so you decided to just take it for her happiness.

His father was a nice person, he treated your mother very well and made sure to get things you liked and also paid for a lot of classes just to accommodate for uprooting your life and moving to his house. But Billy? He infuriated you, he made your life hell but it was such small things that it didn't make sense to talk to your parents.

“WHAT THE FUCK, BILLY?” He did it again, he stole so many of your panties and he always had the same excuse.

“It probably got mixed up with my boxers, you need to chill.” His voice was so calm but his smirk made you furious, so you slapped him. Your breathing was hard and you felt yourself getting wet because of Billy and you hated yourself for it. “I’m gonna give you a pass because you’re probably on your period or something…” You were about to slap him again but he stopped your hand by holding your arm, fuck he was strong you thought. “You only get one of those, baby.” He was looking at your lips, fuck you wanted to kiss him.

“Let go of me.” Billy laughed, he knew as much as you that your words had no weight behind them.

“You can just remove your arm.” You snapped out of your trance and removed your arm from his grip.

“You’re a fucking psycho, Billy.” You were so annoyed at him, his eyes darkened and he got even closer to you.

“But what does that say about you?” He whispered in your ear, shivers running down your spine but you frowned. “If I am a psycho like you say, why do you want to fuck me?” You were stuttering and Billy laughed at your sudden shyness. “Do you think I don’t hear you fucking yourself calling my name, huh? Do you think that I never noticed you trying to take a peak at me changing? Baby, you’re not subtle at all…and I bet that if I put my fingers inside your tight little pussy, you’d be so fucking wet.” His smirk never left his face, you got caught and you hated that he was right.

“You’re wrong, I would never call your name when I’m cumming. You’re just delusional.” You were proud of yourself for not stuttering but Billy laugh.

“Who said that you called my name when you were cumming?” With that Billy left you in his room, you were flabbergasted by his antics and you felt like shit because despite his antics, you wanted your step brother to fuck you.

-------------------------------------

It kept getting worse, Billy was teasing you all the time and you were so annoyed about the fact that he had that much of an effect on you. Billy made you into his plaything and you had no say in it whatsoever, it was infuriating and the fact that he was plaguing your dreams and fantasies made all of this ten times worse.

“We’re going on a trip to Switzerland, I trust that you kids will be alright for a week?” Billy’s father announced at dinner and you saw how happy your mother was, so you decided to simply go along with it and not say anything.

“Sure, dad. Hope you guys have fun, don’t forget to call.” Billy smiled and then he looked at you, his gaze was making you feel as if you were naked, he saw right through you and you hated it.

“I’m so happy for you mom.” You kissed her cheek, even though your mother was the reason why you were living with Billy, you could never resent her. She deserved to be happy, even if you weren’t.

---------------------------------------

You decided to just be in your room and not see Billy, but you weren’t that lucky. He came to your room and was snooping around, you hated when he did that but decided to ignore him. Giving in and fighting was what Billy wanted, so you decided not to fall for it. Be strong, you thought to yourself.

“You’re gonna ignore me the whole week, baby?” Billy laid in bed next to you, but you decided not to react. “Come on, have you been dreaming about me?” You took a deep breath, but decided to change the dynamic between the two of you.

You straddled him and got extremely close to his face, you could tell that he was surprised and you were so proud of yourself for making him speechless.

“Every night, baby.” You whispered and started grinding on his cock and it was hard already.

“What you’re doing?” He asked with a small voice, he definitely wasn’t expecting that from you, Billy does the teasing, not you.

“What we want, right?” You kissed his neck and Billy pushed you away and left your room, you started laughing and went back to reading your book.

Billy left you alone all day, you were grateful that you weren’t an ass out of yourself in front of him and maybe the worst was behind you now, but wrong you were.

You were now ready for bed, you put on your nightgown and already moisturised your skin and you were happy. When you were in bed Billy entered your bedroom, and he got on top of you with a predatory look on his eyes and you too stunned to speak.

“I gotta say, you caught me off guard earlier but we need to fuck so we can stop playing this game, baby.” He was expecting your answer, but you were simply looking at him, you felt yourself getting wetter by the second. “What do you say, baby?” You nodded your head but Billy wagged his finger in front of your face. “I need words, baby…come on.” He whispered.

“Please, fuck me Billy.” He started kissing you, there was no tenderness to it simply lust. Billy started playing with your nipples, and he inserted two fingers inside you.

“Oh, baby…you’re so wet, you’re such a freak for wanting your stepbrother to fuck you, huh?” His words making you even more turned on, you were moaning and pulling his hair, it felt so fucking good.

When you were about to cum, the phone rang. You and Billy were frozen but you were the first to move, he finally removed his fingers and you picked up the phone.

“Hello?” You answered.

“Hey, honey. Just called to let you two know that we arrived at the hotel, and I love you very much. Try not to kill each other.” Your mother laughed, you did too, awkwardly.

“I love you too, mom.” The two of you started to chat about other things, and she hangs up.

You slowly start to walk back to your bedroom, now that you’re less horny it started to dawn on you that this was a bad idea, Billy is your stepbrother for fuck’s sake. It doesn’t matter how much you wanted him, you didn't want to ruin your mother’s relationship.

“It was my mother.” You announced to Billy.

“I heard.” He got closer to you, and started to kiss your neck but you stopped him.

“We shouldn’t do this, Billy.” He was now making patterns across your arm.

“Why not?” He kept eye contact with you, making it hard to keep your resolve.

“Our parents are happy, Billy. If we do this, they might break up.” His touch was comforting, but it really wasn’t helping.

“I get what you’re saying, but they won’t find out.” You didn't seem convinced, at all. “I won’t force you into this, ever. But just so you know, I need to fuck this tight little pussy and I know that you need my cock deep inside you until I fuck you dumb and you don’t know anything but my name, baby.” He kissed your cheek and left your bedroom.

You could hear him masturbating, he sounded so hot and when he finished he yelled your name. You had a decision to make and Billy made it all up to it, he wasn’t going to pursue you, if you wanted…you were going to have to get it.

[pamgkrthwrites]

Hi umm question can I make a request of a macaque azure lion wukong x fem single mother tiger

Like she has like three cubs (kids) and she had to raise them and there still young because because there recently born because her ex mate (husband) cheated on her with another woman and when he found out she was pregnant with his cubs (kids) he left her while she was pregnant

Finally, getting to this as ehehehhehehehe

Support me here

Sun Wukong

Is very disappointed that your ex mate left you all alone with your triplet cubs.

Is very angry that he cheated.

When he visits you, he more often then not offers to babysit for a day or two so you can have some rest.

At some point he gets you to bring them to his island and he does so much.

He won't let you talk down about your body, will kiss your stomach.

He understands if your not ready to enter a new relationship, willing to take it slow.

Most importantly though, he understands that to date you, he does have to be a good influence in your kids life.

He is willing to fake a certain idea of himself, but he also isn't really willing to change who he is as a personmonkey.

Macaque

Probably found out about you having kids after a date and he coughs on the glass of water you gave him when one kid comes running out to say hi to mama.

Coughs even more when he sees the other two.

He doesn't treat you any differently(besides from letting you choose times when to meet up more freely) because of your cubs.

He does ask questions about the father though. And is fucking pissed.

This man will hunt down your ex and kill him for leaving you and your cubs. Will make sure you suddenly have this man entire wealth in your bank too.

He doesn't let you figure it out, playing innocent and all.

He does like spending time with your kids, though he likes spending time with you more.

Though he does hate it when one or more of the children join you two in bed because of a nightmare. He doesn't like grubby hands touching him as he sleeps.

Azure Loin

This man does not question it.

He just thinks your husband died while you were pregnant and is willing to look after your cubs.

Why else would a father not be in a child's life.

He goes feral when you tell him the truth.

Will hunt this shit down and cut off his gentiles.

"If he is too much of a coward to look after a child then he doesn't have the right to make anymore children."

Will convince your cubs he is their father and he will treat you as if he is your husband, even if you two never get married.

He won't let children be raised thinking they have no family.

[hunterwritings]

okay but can you guys imagine bi-han with like a shit ton of kids

like this man probably wants to have as many kids as he can before his wife begs him to stop. he wants to make as many little warriors as he can and each of them would be training as soon as they are able to walk. He also loves the site of his wife being a mother, he loves seeing how gentle and caring she is around her children. Bi-han would go to the ends of the world to protect them. He would legitimately kill anyone who threatens them and will follow through on it.

He vows to be a good father, promising that his children will never resent him as he did with his own father. While he sets strict rules and training regimes, he wants to be loving and caring to his kids.

His boys? He will train them to be powerful warriors and teach them tradional values, like protecting their mother and sisters.

His girls? Oh my God, they are treated like princesses. He is always looking out to protect them and holds them any chance he gets. Although he's not too keen on them fighting like he is with the boys, he still wants them to know how to defend themselves.

God i just know this man would do anything for his kids

[purfectstormzz]

Think I need someone older | Sebastian Stan x reader (social media au)

Summary: in which guys her age don’t know how to treat her right but a certain Romanian actor knows exactly how to treat her.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x fem!reader

Warnings: Age gap (reader is 25, Sebastian is 41). Mean comments about reader.

A/n: The photos are all photos that I found on Pinterest so credits to whoever took those photos :). The dates under the post are random dates that I chose😊

Masterlist

Instagram.com

Yourusername

Liked by TomHolland, CharlesLeclerc and 567000 others

Yourusername: Young, wild & free!

21 October 2021

Comments:

FlorencePugh: You dropped this m’lady 👑

Zendaya: Mother!

Username23: When is she going to finally find someone to be with. She’s 23 it’s about time.

> Y/nswife: Let her live her life, she’s happy without someone!

> Y/nsfan: Exactly and every guy she has dated treated her like shit so let her be happy dude!

TimotheeChalamet: Check your dm’s😚

> Y/nswife: Not this guy making his move🫡

Yourusername

Liked by TimotheeChalamet, Bobbyskeetz and 657000 others

Yourusername: Last weekend with the friends✨

4 March 2022

Comments:

Y/nswife: Is that who I think it is???

> y/nsfan: What in the soft launch is this😮

FlorencePugh: Best weekend ever😙

TimotheeChalamet: We should do this again!!

> y/nswife: y’all I think we lost her

> username224: it is about time, at her age most people are already married.

> y/nswife: Respectfully, shut the f*ck up 😊

Menshealth

Liked by Yourusername, SebastianStan and 547000 others

Menshealth: Sebastian Stan in our latest photoshoot.

6 June 2022

Comments:

Yourusername: Respectfully Smash🫣

*comment liked by @Sebastianstan

> y/nswife: Girl😳

>Sebastianstanswife: She’s so real for that🤭

Yourusername

Liked by TimotheeChalamet, Zendaya and 736000 others

Yourusername: Prada 2023🖤

27 June 2023

Comments:

Zendaya: Prettiest girl ever🥰

>yourusername: Stop it, you’re making me blush☺️

Y/nswife: Mother fr

TimotheeChalamet: I’m so lucky to have such a pretty best friend🫶🏼

> y/nfan2: Best friend is code for girlfriend🤭

SebastianStan

Liked by Yourusername, ChrisEvans and 647000 others

SebastianStan: Prada ‘23

23 June 2023

Comments:

SebastianStanswife: I have something inappropriate to say🥵

> Yourusername: Same tbh😫

> SebastianStanswife: you’re so real for this girly🤭

Y/nswife: Ngl I kinda ship y/n and Sebastian😨

> username23: He’s literally 17 years older then her.

Yourusername added to their story

25 July 2023

Celebritynews

Liked by Y/nswife, SebastianStanswife and 6570000 others

Celebritynews: Actor Sebastian Stan (41) and actress Y/n Y/l/n (25) seen together in New York last night. Is there a new couple?

2 September 2023

Comments:

Y/nswife: Mother and father!!

SebastianStanswife: I’m not even mad, they look so good together.

Username23: The age gap is a bit weird🤔

> username234: exactly, he could be her dad!

>y/nsfan: Dude they’re both legal adults it’s not like she’s underage or something.

> Username23: Still. It’s a bit weird he’s 41😳

Username347: She’s probably only after his money

> y/nswife22: Did you miss the part where they said that she’s an actress too. She literally makes as much money as he does🤷‍♀️

> username236: Still, there are enough guys on the planet that she could date that are around her age😬

Y/nsfan45: I’m actually really happy for her. Finally a guy that knows how to treat her right.

Yourusername

Liked by SebastianStan, Y/nswife and 765000 others

Yourusername: Older men just do it better. Happy 4 months my love🫶🏼

Tagged: @SebastianStan

27 October 2023

Comments:

SebastianStan: Happy 4 months love🫶🏼

Y/nswife: 4 months?🫢

TimotheeChalamet: I’m finally able to speak again without almost spoiling this secret🫣

> Y/nsfan: All the people that thought that Timothée and Y/n were a couple are clowning so hard rn🤡

Y/nswife33: I’m so happy for her!!

Username23: The age gap is still a bit weird!

SebastianStan

Liked by Yourusername, ChrisEvans and 765000 others

SebastianStan: What the kids call a hard launch these days. Happy 4 months love❤️

Tagged: @yourusername

27 October 2023

Comments:

Yourusername: Happy 4 months honey❤️

ChrisEvans: Congrats both of you😊

Y/nswife: Mother finally found a father for us!

Sebastianstanswife: I find them so cute together!!

[thehollowwriter]

I think we should talk more about the mysgony when it comes to parents in media, and how fathers are favoured and praised for the most the most basic shit while mothers are demonised for making mistakes or being bad. This is gonna be a long one, buckle up.

I hate Mrs Rosehearts as much as the next guy, but it's unfair that Mr Rosehearts is not given similar criticism for allowing his wife to treat Riddle the way he does. I hardly see people bring him up apart from mentioning that Riddle's parents probably have an unhappy marriage, and some people say something along the lines of "poor Mr Rosehearts, struggling with a wife like that".

Of course, we don't know enough about his character to gauge how Mrs Rosehearts treats him, bit it's clear he just passively stands to the side when it comes to whatever Mrs Rosehearts wants to do with Riddle. That itself is very harmful and it's own form of abuse, imo.

The same applies to Alador Blight from the Owl House. He's praised for being a wonderful dad that finally came through and stood up to his "horrible wretched bitch of a wife" (who, if she was a guy, would probably have more people analysing her and trying to find ways to sympathise with her just saying)..

And while, yes, he did stand up to her and that's a good thing, the general consensus is he was a brilliant dad from the start that was held back by his wife's wicked ways. But... that's not true? His first appearance is him telling Amity to stop being friends with Willow. He ignores his children constantly, and, like Mr Rosehearts, stands passively to the side when Odaliah treats her children like her property.

He's a neglectful parent at best and just as concerned with image and status at Odaliah at worst. But... that stuff is just forgotten. Most people just say "we thought he was bad but it turns out he was manipulated by his wife". He is HIS OWN PERSON. You cannot just blame everything on his "evil manipulative wife" (which is also smt that sometimes happens irl when both parents are abusive). He is still fully capable of making his own decisions.

And again, it's unfortunate, but if Odaliah were to be given his treatment or if Alador were a woman, the general response would be "That's sad but not an excuse! I can't believe she was forgiven!"

The worst I can think of atm, is Silco and Vi from Arcane. Now ofc they're not married. But the circumstances are similar.

Silco is praised to the high heavens for being one of the best dads in animation (#1 goes to Doofenshmirtz ofc, which I agree with) and the reasons for this are because he... shows his care, puts Jinx first, and loves her. Wow. Fucking groundbreaking am I right. The bar is soooo high/s

The thing is, Jinx is a child soldier. She works for Silco, protects his shipments of Shimmer, takes out the enemies that need taken out, etc. He found her as a young child, and when we cut to the present, she's murdering people without so much as flinching, even delighting in it, and suffering badly from trauma and hallucinations.

Obviously, Jinx was not given the care she needed, and was instead trained to assist Silco.

Am I denying Silco loves her? Of course not! He clearly does. But that's just not good enough. He's a loving dad, but not a good one. He's not the father that neither Jinx nor Powder needed.

Meanwhile, we have Vi. Vi loves Powder, protects her, cares for her, tries to keep her out of harm, stands up for her, and so on. She cares so deeply for Powder, and you can see it. The moment she got out of prison, her first goal was to find Powder.

However, because she hit Powder once, and shouted at her, she's apparently an abusive monster who never cared about Powder. Reminder, she hit Powder because her entire family was killed in front of her and then she learned Powder was the reason that happened. She was like... 14? And she immediately left to calm down. She did not abandon Powder, she left to take a breather because she realised she was too angry. And when she came back, she was drugged and arrested.

Silco is a grown adult who purposefully flooded the streets of the Undercity with a highly addictive drug, turned Powder into a soldier, and is generally a terrible person, even if he is a three dimensional amd well written antagonist.

Vi started the story as a teenager suffering poverty and discrimination just like Silco, had to deal with her own parents death, then her adoptive family was killed in front of her, and then she was forcefully taken from her sister. And yet, people are convinced Vi is a terrible and abusive sister who never loved Powder?

The only example worse than this, methinks, is Stella and Stolas from Helluva Boss.

Stella is a shitty mother who ignores her daughter, which the the audience is shown via a scene were Octavia is having a nightmare and she tells Stolas to deal with it. She frequently screams and swears at Stolas and throws things at him, with no regard for her daughter's presence or feelings.

This is pretty terrible, right? Of course! Everyone knows Stella is a horrible mother.

Stolas on the other hand, is praised for being such an loving and caring father, who tries his best. He even has a song with Octavia!

Well, he also: openly talks about having sex with Blitz and how much he likes it while she was right there, told her people want her money and her body, generally doesn't pay much attention to her either bc he's wallowing about Blitz not loving him back, and doesn't give her feelings much regard.

And yet, the misogyny extends beyond just Stella because people generally agree that Octavia is ungrateful and doesn't appreciate Stolas enough. They get mad at her for disliking the fact that Stolas is cheating on her mother with an imp who's been nothing but rude to her and ruining their family further, and even mock her for feeling unloved. Hell even Brandon, one of the creators, has allegedly recently called her a "cockblocking slut" which, frankly, is a disgusting thing to say about a 17 year old girl.

Idk man I'm just tired.

[fluff-n-cookies]

Hello :)

Could you please do and platonic Aizawa x daughter reader?

His daughter is in her teen years so she is being like really rebel and all that so they fought a lot, but one day she just breaksdown during one fight and starts crying and apologizing for being a shitty daughter?

I have been avoiding this for so long, and it's all because I have no idea how aizawa would handle something like this. because it goes against everything that Aizawa would try and teach his kid so this may be a little forcefully written, apologies.

TW : unhealthy parenting, mental illness, some suicidal thoughts, probably angsty shit, I dunno, read at your own risk.

We can start this by walking through how this may start in the first place. I think the best place to start is that reader's mom left her and Aizawa when she was very young, and Aizawa, assuming here he didn't understand how to properly tell her why her mother left her, never tells her why.

Now reader is very young so she might blame one of two things.

herself

her father

While both instances would technically work, I think the more favorable option is she blames herself since a young child would probably never blame an adult they look up to and hold dear as the problem.

Up to this point her father has been really kind to her so the only other variable is her, this spirals into social anxiety, low self esteem, and depression. all of which don't help when you have an absent mother and a neglectful father who is both a teacher and a full time hero, which leaves little to no room for children.

(this is also why I think it isn't realistic for Aizawa to keep Eri or a child without another non-hero caretaker. Fight me, I dare you.)

As time goes on, and this child becomes a teenager, she might not know how to properly express her feeling and after being misguided by factors like the internet, other adults, and "friends" she might take out the feeling of being abandoned on her closest caretaker and another source of her problems; Aizawa.

if you purposely yell at him or start arguments it's not going to be very fun because Aizawa has this complex where if his students or other heros represent incompetence or arrogance he expels them or ignores him rather than explaining it to them and helping them improve, this is especially with students.

and since he lacks a true connection with you as his daughter mainly because of his job(s) and past with Oboro which he is still trying to heal from keeping him from bonding with you, he'll treat you as a student like the rest of the teenagers he knows. and even then, you may actually be treated worse than his students because while he interacts with them daily, he interacts with maybe 1 hour every other day.

so from all that he simply ignores you, just stops interacting with you entirely, he's too tired for your bullshit. this action makes the wedge between you two even worse.

if you keep persisting though he will yell back but it's often really short and really loud. something like "SHUT UP" a cold "I don't care." before slamming the door in your face. He knows it's probably not right to do that to your daughter but let's face it. you're just this annoying teenager he legally has to live with if he doesn't want to lose his hero and teaching license.

this is where things actually get very interesting, because let's assume he stops approaching you entirely, you just live in the same house nothing more than that, and while you may act like you hate your father for ruining your family and neglecting you all your life on the outside, remember, you're still that little kid in second grade that blames yourself for your mother leaving and your father not caring for you.

so let's say you realize this and go back to blaming yourself for everything like you did when you where a kid but since your father stopped talking to you entirely explaining your faults to him maybe difficult.

this where my personal experiences come in, I've actually had this happen to me in my own life, and I truely hope that you'll enjoy it. thank you.

---------

why is it that the voices are the loudest in the dead of night?

the moon is gone, the birds are silent, there isn't a single light that shines on your tear streaked face, puffly, swollen, sad, just sad.

years of confusion, neglect, a lack of love in it's purest form.

all because of you.

it's all because of you.

it's sings so prettily, like it's a church choir spreading the word of the lord like it's common knowledge.

it's common knowledge that you are a terrible person!

it cackles.

the urge to strangle yourself to finally feel some relief has never been stronger.

lie awake in the dead of night, in pitch darkness, a proper scenery to match ones broken and cracked soul, be careful, you might hurt yourself, again.

however, one cannot weep in their wallows forever.

the night has to make way for the morning sun.

and a relaxed self pity has to make way to dread.

dread.

dread of him, he who you blame for everything, everything you know is your fault.

it's all your fault.

a click at the door,

the creak of the old wood and the hinges never oiled.

mild thumping footsteps that wander around the apartment that can barely hold your overflowing buckets of tears.

you can mumble out all your pleas.

pleas that this is all a terrible nightmare and your real life is actually one with a kind and loving mother and a supportive and encouraging father.

mumble out the little lies that you made up all these years to make yourself feel worse and other better.

"it's pointless to keep trying."

"I wish I wasn't here."

"why can't I just be happy?"

"it's all my fault,

it's all my fault,

it's all my fault."

the thin walls don't do those in mourning justice though.

for the wind is calm, the branches don't dare to move, the owls, the bats, the sleeping heros in training downstairs don't make a peep.

for the only ones alive, awake, aware, is a man beaten down and broken by society serving as it's protector, ignoring the one in most need of protection all this time. With him is a girl. a girl that's scared, scared of her mirror image that haunts her, a girl who's cried an ocean, screamed a thousand wails of pain, a girl lost in her own heart,

"No wonder no one loves you."

you lie again.

but keen ears trained from years of work with villains hears you, for the first time, he hears you.

not the rebellious teen he's seen yell out strings of pure hatred and fiery insults like he's her own worst enemy.

it's the girl who he saw waiting on the steps to their apartment all those years ago. waiting for her mama to come back home with the promise of cupcakes.

it's the girl who never smiled for the remainder of elementary school.

it's the girl who's heart withered way that autumn evening.

he heard the softest little voice in the dead of night. he heard his daughter cry

"No wonder no one loves you."

.

.

.

"But I love you."

for that whole night, for that whole night.

the peace was disturbed.

for that whole night, it seemed that the moon shone once again.

it may not be the sun. but it'll do for now.

Aizawa walked away shortly after that.

leaving a little girls and her mirror image to ponder.

ponder.

---------

Afterwards I don't think he'd talk about it too much, he's proabably approach you after breakfast the next morning and tell you "you can talk to him about it if you want." but not much more than that

he definitely would change his practices though. like getting you a therapist, taking the weekends off in favor of being around the house more.

he'll let you get used to his presence first like one would with a cat, and one day. maybe years later, or tomorrow, you'll talk to him.

you'll tell him you love him too.

and maybe.

just maybe.

the world will stop,

and everything will be okay.

[iridescentdove]

If it is not too much trouble, may I please request a Yandere? Platonic! BSD x Arlecchino! Reader, let's say that the reader has played an important role in almost everybody's life.

For example, she took Kouyou under her wing when she failed to escape the Mafia, advised and convinced Fukuzawa to save Yosano, treated and viewed (15) Dazai as only a child and not the demon prodigy, never once used or placed Chuuya as the second choice, etc. Things like that, but the reader is still in the Fatui and does run the House of the Hearth and looks after orphans while also training them to be enlisted in the Fatui. So, they probably view reader as a parent figure and someone dear to their hearts and don’t want anything bad to happen to them.

A LIFE OF OUR OWN.

Yandere!Platonic!BSD x Arlecchino!Reader

A/N: I immediately worked on this request on seeing it omg anon you guys do not know how much I love Arlecchino ... also for here I use "Father", but that's only because in the game Lyney & Lynette call Arlecchino that. Feel free to pretend it's mother or something else!

You're the second whole of their hearts.

They'll do anything for you ...

Father.

It's not a coincidence. To take one for an example. KOUYOU, that poor little girl who did nothing wrong. She was such a sweet kid, someone nice ... and yet she was there in the Port Mafia. Taken away and unable to live her life like a child should.

In an attempt to leave the mafia with a man she liked, it was rather unfornature enough – both were caught red handed.

And that man? He was killed.

KOUYOU was desperately holding on, wanting him to open his eyes, to survive and still find a way. And yet deep down, she knew that it would be impossible.

Good things never last.

She began to see the light as something meaningless. That the moment a flower born in darkness is exposed to light, it will wilt and burn away to nothingness. She can't escape. Not anymore. But that also wishful thinking.

That was until you came along and helped her up.

It was like a moment's heartbeat, the moment she looked up. You were right there – holding your hand out.

Even if you weren't expressive as to be expected out of sympathy for what happened, she can tell that you were no ill-intentioned person. So what did she do? She took it. Your hand. And gave you a smile ... one that faintly shined of hope.

Of course, she never left the mafia. But she had you to take care of her ... and treat her like a true daughter.

She was ecstatic to have family of her own.

You even gifted her a little plushie. Of course, of the the most fine and exquisite type of material. Your rich ass is flexing without even saying it out loud. slay

And you never treated her as a second choice.

Just like CHUUYA. As the time passed, he too joined the Port Mafia by boss orders. Honestly – you probably didn't give much of a shit, but that obviously changed.

Even now, your fatherish figure still remains after years. And that may as well never change.

He takes some great pride on his abilities, and he's rather smug about it himself. Although – sometimes he does question himself, and his humanity. Due to basically being merged and being Arahabaki's vessel.

But no, fuck that. You treated him as your own child, and although had more better things to do in the Fatui – this kid was insecure as hell and needed a parental figure.

CHUUYA adores you from the bottom of his heart. You showed him what it was to be human. To be alive. You gave him good reason and even let him visit the orphanage you looked after. Since he was merged with basically a God, you found it curious as well.

Well Arahabaki doesn't have a Gnosis so he's luckily safe

And then also, boom. Your attention extended towards his partner! DAZAI himself, of his young age. And from that time on, you already knew something was up with him.

Honestly – it can't be doubted. He was destined to live in the darkness forever. Nothing in the world can compel that deep etched loneliness in his heart; and even his late friend ODASAKU had acknowledged that.

Even after their unfortunate deaths, you were right there.

He was almost weirded the fuck out at first. You're not treating him like a monster. Or a demon. Not even his position and affiliation. You straight out threw those ourt the trash and instead? You treated him like your son.

It comforted him a little. To know he finally had someone to call his own. At first – just like anyone, he thought he'd lose you.

But you proved him wrong in various ways.

No matter how hard he tried, you kept him his side. Trained with him and succeeded in his defeat (much to his surprise), and gave him a few fatherly hugs and gifts that he would need and like. And DAZAI couldn't help it either.

He wanted you to be his real father quite badly. You were always there, and his eternal loneliness?

What's that again?

No. Even with that in mind, you never stopped to pursue and keep going with the mafioso. You'd go as much as to take him and meet with the rest of the harbingers, maybe taking CHUUYA and other executives from time to time.

Of course, avoiding The Doctor because it might as well just give back DAZAI his trauma.

And when he keft the mafia? You came along with him. Words cannot express how happy and relieved he was. He didn't want to loose his only comfort, his family. And if any9ne ever tries to threaten your familial bond?

He's gonna pull out the fucking demon prodigy card and show them how demonic he can be

In any case, same is due to everyone else. Like the fact you just always seemed to be there in the right place, at the right time. Like when YOSANO was being forced into healing soldier after soldier in the war.

The poor girl. Safe to assume the Fatui didn't really care about such and didn't participate in the war.

Much unless the Tsaritsa commands them to stop it, they may as well do that. But as of now they didn't really care. But that was only an 11 year old child ...

A child. You just had to take her in, didn't you?

And if not – in any case, you went ahead and got FUKUZAWA to save her. You reasoned with him, quite the good convincer yourself. You were a woman of a hundred, if not a thousand faces that could easily fool others.

So he took her in to the agency.

Although YOSANO was never told about what had happened in the sidelines, the moment she saw you walking away from the both of them – she just had that feeling.

She wants to thank you, if it's the last thing she did.

From the time that came on, you continued to do what you did and appeared, woving yourself into the hearts of everyone. At first, it was obviously never easy. But that wasn't a reason to give up. And you're you, would you seriously give up from that?

Many of them expresses gratitude in multiple ways, sometimes a bit unhinged – which you were yourself. There's not a sane bone in your body.

At least, that's what people like to think.

You've come this far into giving others a new life, being a father figure that everyone cherishes dearly and adores. Oh, and if anyone try to tear away that dream or hurt you – even a single scratch on that body of yours ...

There will be hell to pay.

You'd think they got very protective of their father. They can all quite collectively agree that they need no other familial figure in their lives other than you. Dearest you, who saved them from their shameful lives and gave them a future.

Even one who isn't supposedly a kid like SIGMA – he came from a book. He doesn't have a family. But correction, he does.

And it's you.

Or anyone else from multiple affiliations across. The Decay of the Angels, the Hunting Dogs, supposedly those that caught your eye in these several factions.

Suppose the easily jealous ones of seeing you paying attention to kids more in the orphanage, or giving a certain triplets more of time can get them boiling with anger quite enough. Even if it was wrong, it just seemed so right.

And so? They try to steal more of your attention away. This is one of the time they truly act like children once more.

CHUUYA would most likely not want anyone even gazing at your direction. Must they make things worse? You're around kids almost 24/7 and taking care of them yes, but you should only be taking care of him!

DAZAI acts like a child throwing a tantrum. No! No! No one can be with his father other than himself! How dare those kids call you their father?! He's livid, and tries to hide his anger and jealousy, yet he was visibly so eerie and tense.

KOUYOU can bet it was saddening to see you paying attention to work at the Fatui. Come on now, can you blame her? If you took her under your wing, you better be responsible. So she tries to invite you to her own missions and do fun together, just like when she was little. She wants your care.

YOSANO can tolerate it mostly, although at some point she comes with a breaking point as well. She's normally kind and likes hang around you and feel protected and loved, but oh, when you're not looking? Let's see ... pulls out chainsaw

So if a child or two goes missing in the orphanage?

Let's just say it wasn't anyone's fault, dear father :)

[mooneggtarts]

Okay what I think about Alastor's mother and both her and Alastor's dynamic that affect him in general (PERSONAL HC)

Now, Alastor's mother; I don't think she's a shit mom, but I also don't think she's a "perfect angel" mom either. She's a mother with a lot of flaws of her own, either from her husband, the society's view in people of color, the year era they live in, or other things.

My thought is that she probably killed her husband when Al was in an age where he doesn't even remember his father's face, but remembers clearly of what his mother did to his dad. And she definitely tries to tell him that what she did was wrong and should not be put as an example.

("Why did you do it if it's wrong then?" "I... because I..have..to... your father isn't a good person sweetheart" kinda thing)

His father *could* actually be bad, which drove his mom to the point of murder, remember the *red* on his mother's hands and on the body laying motionless behind her. (For a moment, Al thinks that red might be his fav color)

Because again, where does Al's sudden murderous tendency come from? I kinda suddenly thought how "your parents are your first teachers" and stuck with that. There COULD be a possibility that she does it to protect him, amongst other things. But it has been stuck in my head for a while.

Having only interact and living his childhood mostly with his mother made him a gentleman and easily/perferably befriended the ladies.

Now about his bitterness towards men, well, I don't think he's *that* bitter with them, considering we knew that he and Vox *used* to hangout before things went south, not to mention his respect towards Zestial. I don't think he knows how to even get along *well* or be comfortable with most males considering, again, his mother being the only figure in his life thing, And well, most of the male cast seem to not really like him, or like him *too* much, or generally doesn't make a good first impression. 

Though I don't think it stems mainly on how his mother killed his father in either defense or resentment of how awful his father had treated her. But I suppose it does involve in some way.

Anyways, I don't think Al's mom really pay any attention to Al's struggle and mostly perhaps told him to just "suck it up" kinda deal during his childhood (Im projecting so hard in this). Cause I think, with him being a mixed, in the 19's on south? Definitely would experience some bullying or being pushed away by another group, kids nonetheless.

Even when Al got home with scars and bruises, his mom would just told him not to fight back, to just take it, cause if he fought back then he'll only make the situation worse, and told him to just endure it and wait, that one day things will get more bearable and perhaps something would change into his favor. Not wanting her son to turn violent like his father, and taint his hands red like her's. Not wanting him to change.

(I have a feeling that the more he grown, the more he feel how.. wrong it is? A slight feel of uneasiness. The feeling of captivation, The way he felt he was held back whenever his mother lovingly embrace him (as if not willing to see him change or grow, afraid of the unknown to who will he became, not ready to lose him if he did, cause she had lost the man she once thought would love her))

I also believe she has that mindset where "big boys don't cry" or "boys are suppose to be strong", which could largely explain Al to have a hard time in expressing his emotions and bottling or repressing them seem like the easier way (which, ofc, led to him unmanaged to properly expressing his emotions- and would be quiet defensive with it). And explained as to why he roughs up the male casts more than the females cause by his view, again, guys could handle a bit of a rough-housing better.

And so for years he had kept his mother's advice, enduring and just let them do whatever they want with him, bearing the loneliness, bottling up his frustration and sadness, forcing himself to keep on standing tall upfront.

But things changed after his mother's death. Things are more confusing for him.

Cause he can recall the pain- he *felt* the grief, the moment when he saw her finally kicked the bucket, but suddenly it's different when it was her funeral.

For some reason he felt numb- detached, for lack of better word. Which I suppose what bothers and confuses him. For how quick he got over her- DID he got over her? He's not sure, he deeply cared and respect her for taking great care of him for years, but he isn't *suppose* to move on so quick yes?

I think that's a whole worth of spiralling breakdown of questioning himself that will never gain an answer of.

Then the house are too empty and too big for him, the first time living without the presence of his mother. Somehow, it felt both uncomfortable and... relief?

Guilt settles in afterward. Somehow everything seems a lot more suffocating than how things are when she's still with him. Like hoping that her lingering shadow of a presence would accompany him, but he doesn't want it to be near him.

I think he'd shut down those kinds of thoughts, cause it disturbs his daily living, and do what he was best at. Repressing everything, ignore them. And just go on with his life pretending to be unbothered.

It bothers him because, he believes he cares for his mother. Loved her even. But there is a part at the back of his mind where he felt... free. Like nothing was holding him back anymore. And thats what bothers him. And I guess at some point, he feels like an ungrateful kid. Cause his mother has done nothing but the best for him, the only person that ever cared about him too. And here he is, feeling a bit of the weight on his shoulder shifted after her passing??? What is wrong with him? 

I feel like he's in denial how the way his mother been teaching him had been wrong, and would DEFINITELY be VERY MUCH REALLY defensive when someone call her out on how wrong she is. Cause she can't be wrong, he doesn't (want to) believe that she's wrong.

I feel like the moment he make his first kill in his human life, and I believe, that his first kill could be either someone that bullied him or some guy that harrassed someone else (my thought went to mimzy for a moment but it makes good sense for that could be how they first met)

And when he painted his hands red, a short flash of image of his mother's first murder as well, and it dawned on him. He had waited all this time, that fate will turn it's favor on him. For years he held back, in the end, the only way for things to turn, is if he *himself* change.

Feeling a strong surge of power like never before. Looking at the harrasser's fear induced face. It felt *good*. To be the *predator* instead. How the tables have turned.

Emotions running through his veins along with adreline, there was guilt that he had disobeyed his mother, there was hatred (which feeds his guilt) how much his mother has held him back from this, there was an overpowering sense of addictive of how much control and power he has in the situation for the first time.

And he finds himself unable to let go of the feeling. Wanting *more*.

I think at this point, he is willing to let go of the love that held him back, he loves his mother dearly, but he is unable to stop breaking every promises and lessons his mother taught him. By then, he hopes, that his mother would forget about him in wherever her soul went. He doesn't seem to mind if his mother doesn't love him anymore, he finds it better that way, she shouldn't be burdened by him cause there is no way he will stop.

He doesn't care if that made him unloved (Love is what holding him back in the first place, held him captive, making him doubt, making him hesitant, pressuring him), or that it made him into a monster. Because for once, despite him drowning too deep into the trench surrounded by his piling up hatred and rage against everyone that wrong him, he can breath.

He felt free.

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch.3

Warnings/Mentions: Merle being Merle, History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut, slowburn, angst

Summary: You reminisce on the old days spent with Merle and Daryl.

Notes: This is mostly flashbacks to life growing up with Daryl and Merle, the good ole days :D Merle says some homophobic and probably racist stuff, cause he's Merle

“Dude, just go apologize, holy shit. You're worse than the teenage girls I went to school with.”

“Mind your own goddamn business. S’between me and Merle.” 

“He's got a point. You're acting shifty as hell. What happened to leaving? Huh? We've got Merle back, nothing's changed, these people still see us as redneck trash, can we just go already?”

“Said mind your business.”

Hindsight is a bitch.

You were five years old when you met Daryl and Merle for the first time. Unless your memory served you wrong, it was the fourth of July, and the trailer park was getting together to set off a bunch of illegal fireworks. You were sitting with your family as your neighbors got everything ready, a few of them grilling hotdogs and hamburgers. Your father had brought your mother a burger, which she split with you.

Your father was the only black sheep in your lives at that point in time. Anyone could tell just by looking at him that he didn't belong there, in a dingy trailer covered in blotches of mildew and rust. He was always clean shaven, no tattoos, perfect white teeth. He never smoked, never did drugs, never even drank. Even his name stood out among the Tammys, the Justins, Tuckers, Mandys, the Brandons and the Krystals. He was a Sebastian. He always wore clean clothes, and it was a stark contrast to your mother, who was the whole reason he was there in the first place. 

She was nothing like him. She had a beautiful face, sure, but that was about the only thing beautiful about her. Most of her teeth were yellow from cigarettes and drugs, some of them missing, and the molars in the back had eventually all turned black. She was never seen without a cigarette in her fingers, her nails a different bright color everyday. Her clothes always stank of cigarettes and BO, but despite all of that, she wasn’t all that much of a terrible human. Not until later on.

Your mother loved your father, and he loved her. She loved you too, even if she was mean most of the time, she never hit or screamed at you until he left. After that she took a dark turn, becoming a woman you grew to despise. She blamed you for him leaving, but  you knew the truth, she was the reason. She’d relapsed one too many times and he had enough, he left and he took you with him, but CPS ultimately dragged you kicking and screaming from your grandmother's house back to the prison that was your trailer.

That fourth of July was one of the last good memories you had with your parents. Your mother had been clean for seven months, and she looked stunning that night in her pink sundress and purple nail polish. She brought you a freeze pop and you ate it like it was a gourmet dessert, sitting beside her on the grass as you watched your neighbors set up the fireworks. 

When you finished eating you went to play with the group of kids, they would end up becoming your last resemblance of a friend group, a pair of girls your age and a handful of boys. One of the older boys made a rude comment about the DIxon brothers, and you decided to introduce yourself. 

Merle was about sixteen then, maybe seventeen, but he treated you and Daryl like you were the same age, something you deeply admired about him. You threw rocks at beer bottles behind their trailer, and you smoked your first cigarette there, hacking your lungs out, much to their amusement. Merle bragged and showed off his father's gun and crossbow collection, and soon after that their mother shooed you all out of the house like stray cats. 

You wished you could say the three of you became thick as thieves after that, but truthfully you didn't have many memories with them. To echo the point, you weren’t really friends. Just people with similar situations that lived near each other.

You took a deep drag of Daryl's cigarette and pulled away from him, holding it in your lungs. 

He didn’t say anything, and neither did you. You sat in silence, your legs hanging off the bridge you sat upon, sharing one of your last cigarettes. 

You turned a spent shell casing over in your fingers as Daryl flicked the butt into the river below. It was Merle's bullet casing, you knew that, the three of you had been on that bridge a few days prior when he let off a few shots into a small group of walkers. It was small, from the little .22 pistol that he’d borrowed from you. He’d never given it back, and it pained you to assume it was most likely still in his waistband, stuck to his rotting corpse until some other survivor came along and took it. 

“C’mon. Let's get back.” Daryl grunted as he hopped off the ledge and slung his crossbow over his shoulder. This was the only thing he said to you for the rest of the day, and for a while after that. 

Once you had said that your odds of survival were higher when there were more people around. World views change fast, apparently, because when the prison group took in the Woodbury citizens, you felt more at risk than when it had been a group of ten. 

Though you always despised the word ‘outcast’, it was the only word good enough to describe your place in the prison. 

It was easier when Merle had been there. It was only a few days but it was nice, you found yourself making an effort to hang out with him more, something he secretly appreciated. There wasn't anyone in his life anymore that enjoyed spending time with him, aside from Daryl. But some days it felt like not even his baby brother wanted to be around him. 

“You know how to fish?” You had asked him one evening as the two of you walked back from a supply run mostly empty handed. 

“Do you know who you're talkin' to sweetheart? Course I know how to fish.” 

You sat on the riverbank as he dumped his fourth trout into your bucket of water. You had caught one small catfish, and that seemed to do wonders for his pride, it gave him another thing to brag about doing better than anyone else in camp. 

“Little asskickers gonna have her first taste of good ole American fish tonight.” Merle laughed proudly, wiping his hands on his pants. 

“I don't think babies can eat fish. I don't think they can eat anything but formula.” You commented and stood from your spot, pulling in your makeshift fishing line. 

“A lil’ fish can't hurt.”

“No, seriously. I don't think she can have any.”

“Psh.” He muttered and picked up the bucket. “Useless fuckers. Can't eat, can't speak, can't walk, hell.”

Before the outbreak, you'd spent the most time with the eldest Dixon brother. Only to buy or trade drugs, occasionally getting high together, but it was still time spent in each other's presence. He very much enjoyed doing speed and teaching you things, normally how to shoot different types of guns, or just sitting in some random person's house listening to his rants about racism, homophobia, whatever he felt passionate about that day. 

“It just ain't natural, and I said, you couldn't pay me a cold million to touch one of you shitlickers. Yessir.” He was laughing then, amused in his retelling of some high school escapade that you weren't really paying attention to. Merle could be tasteless at times, and it was of no interest to you, you were enjoying your expensive high and there was no way in hell you were going to ruin it by getting into an argument with someone like him. 

You must've dozed off, because the long, drawn-out yell of your name had your heavy head lolling back up to see Merle a foot away from you. A grin split onto his face and he slapped your shoulder. “C'mon. Got a hot date, wouldn't look too good bringin’ your ass around. Get up. C'mon now!” 

Maybe you should've stuck around, cause he ended up getting a nasty case of gonorrhea from her. About a week later you found out from the man himself, standing in front of the coolers in your local gas station. They didn't sell gas anymore, too expensive, but they didn't lose any customers. 

“Should'a known a bitch that ugly would be crawlin’ with it.” He cursed, hiking up a six pack of beer on his shoulder as he followed you to checkout, his little shadow following behind.

“Told ya. Just didn't listen.” Daryl muttered, swiping a pack of cigarettes to slip into his back pocket. 

“Yeah, well, that's cause you don't know jack shit about women. The hell would I listen to you for?” 

“Even I could've told you that.” You spoke around the SlimJims between your lips as you handed the cashier a crumpled up ten dollar bill. She said nothing about you obviously being underaged and buying a cheap bottle of wine, everyone in town knew about your mother. “That's what you get for being a dick to that poor kid.”

“You talkin' about that-” The noisy chime of the bells above the front door covered his derogatory choice of words. 

“Those men, yeah. Don't know why it's so hard for you to leave people alone.”

“Cause it's America sweetheart, ain't no place for that kind of degeneracy here.” 

You bit back your quip concerning the women he surrounded himself with and looked to Daryl, who was too busy flipping through an obscene magazine to notice.

You weren't the model student after your father left. Most days were spent by yourself in the surrounding woods, fucking around until the buses prepared to leave. On the rare occasion that you had company, it was usually the senior you bought drugs from. He was weird, overly gentle with a very soft voice, something about him extremely off putting. 

Maybe things would've been different if you had been friends with Daryl back in school. He had only gone for a little while, using any and every excuse to get out of that house, even if it did include going from one prison to another. You weren't sure when he dropped out (technically he didn't drop out, he just stopped showing up), but it was right around the time Merle was out of prison. 

They left their father then, moving from couch to couch, and eventually ended up staying with another dealer you were vaguely familiar with. 

“Holy shit, look at you!” Merle whistled playfully after realizing it was you that had just come through the door. 

“The fuck? Merle?” You could barely recognize him. He looked so different from the last time you saw him, hardened by the months in prison. Daryl looked different too, he'd started growing some facial hair and looked a bit larger as well. It had been about a year or two since your last encounter, so it was to be expected. They stood up from the couch they sat on to greet you, Merle offering you a hit from his glass pipe, which you declined. 

“Nah, you know I never liked that shit.”

Merle snickered and held his lighter flame under the glass orb. “Right, right. Forgot you were too classy for crystal. Only the,” he tapped the side of his nostril, “for you.”

You caught up in the dealer's living room, some guy named Jesse, and enjoyed your purchases. You were happy then, for a few reasons. Jesse's shit was a lot better than what you were used to, so you found yourself a new reliable source, but also because you got to see Daryl again. You got to see him laughing, joking, no black eyes or busted lips. You got time with them as they were, before the world changed. 

You found yourself missing that time, watching as Daryl flung dirt over his shoulder into the grass behind him. It was the present, and you were sitting beside the hole he dug, too hungry to help. You'd forgotten to eat breakfast that morning and it was too early for lunch to be ready, whatever it was Carol or Beth had fixed up for the prison members. 

“What do you think Jesse's up to?” 

Daryl squinted against the sun to focus on you, momentarily pausing his digging. “Who?”

“That dealer you guys used to stay with. Beanie guy.” 

“Oh, yeah. Shit.” He grunted and stretched his back, happy for a break from grave digging. “Hell, I don't know. Probably dead.”

“You think? He seemed pretty tough to me.”

Daryl laughed abruptly at that. “Guy was a prick, but he wasn't no ‘tough guy’. Would go straight to usin’ guns instead of fightin’ like a real man.” 

You would never discover the fate of Jesse, but the decision to bring Daryl's mind back to wander in the past did wonders for bringing the two of you closer once again. 

To everyone's surprise, including you, Daryl dealt with his brother's death far better than you had. You'd expected he'd want to leave after that, go live alone and shut out everyone else. He didn't though, he cried a few times, sure, he got distant and chose to only keep you as company, but while you were still angry and grieving, he was laughing and forming bonds with the new group members. 

You weren't too sure why Merle's death had devastated you that much, the two of you weren't exactly best friends. Maybe it was due to the fact that he was one of the only two things keeping you connected to your past life, even though it was awful, it was better than the constant looming threat of being eaten by dead people. As shitty as your mundane life was, it would have gotten better, one day you would've been stronger than your mother and you would've stood up for yourself, put an end to the physical abuse, and if you were lucky you could've been able to leave and find your father and brother. 

Now Daryl truly was the only bit that remained, not counting material possessions. 

The same went for Daryl as well. The difference between you and him though was that the loss of his brother turned into a good thing. He was no longer a shadow of another human, no longer basing his ideals and opinions on said human. While you dealt with the pain by using Daryl as a crutch, he used it to find out who the unbiased Daryl was, abandoning the ‘Merle Dixon’s kid brother' persona. 

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