#Also I realized they most of the stories I have been daydreaming about have been my own works

[coruscantiprincess]

📚

Okay, so one I've idea I have running around in my head is a time travel fic, where sometime after the events of ROTS Obi-Wan finds himself waking about the time just before Qui-Gon finally takes him as his padawan. But Obi-Wan decides that since he has this chance he is going to do everything in his power to really help Anakin and with the Force to guide him he decides not to be a Jedi and telling Qui-Gon that he would see him on Naboo. He leaves and finds work and saves as much money as he can (It's seventeen years I think before the POM and about 8 before Anakin is born. Not 100% sure my math is right.) he goes to Tatooine probably around when Anakin is 4 or 5. He would have Gone sooner, but he had to make sure he would have enough money to free both Anakin and Shmi.

He somehow arranges with Watto for Qui-Gon to get the parts he will need in the future.

He does end up telling Shmi some of the truth as to why he came, but I don't know how much. They all move to Naboo and Obi-wan and Anakin become like brothers. (Obi-Wan accidentally call Shmi Mom at some point and she loves it.)

Obi-Wan does teach Anakin some things about the Force. One thing I came up with is that He teaches Anakin to meditate while fixing droids, because the force helps him realized that Anakin focuses better when his hands our busy. He also let Anakin fly his ship. He is trying really hard to help Anakin learn to let go, but he has Shmi to help and a better environment which helps. (Oh, maybe he should get Anakin a pet.)

Well the time for the whole invasion is coming and by this point they have moved next door to Padme's family (Obi-Wan didn't know they lived there.) and have become friends with them. They know Padme a little bit, but not well since she's been busy with her campaign and then becoming Queen.

Anyway, just before the invasion Obi-Wan tells Anakin a little more about his past, (Anakin may have known there was something about Obi-Wan's past he wasn't sharing, but he never pressed to know what it was.) mostly that he traveled through time and is trying to stop bad things from happening again and he'll explain more later, but right now they have to go hide in the swamps.

Qui-Gon is sent to Naboo and Obi-Wan's words keep coming to the forefront of his mind, but he gets the Queen off plant without encountering Obi-Wan and then on Tatooine Watto tells him the part is already paid for and he is really confused.

When he is sent back to Naboo with the Queen he thinks about Obi-Wan's words again and is not surprised when Obi-Wan shows up in the swamp with a kid (Okay, so maybe the kid is a surprise.) Padme knows Obi-Wan and Anakin a bit and is happy to have their help. (Shmi stayed in hiding at Obi-Wan's request. She probably joins the camp later once they've made peace with the Gungans.)

Obi-Wan did build himself a lightsaber at some point because he want's to save Qui-Gon since he's fought Mual so much now he is prepared.

He makes sure Anakin can take out the blockade and saves Qui-Gon making sure Mual is truly dead.

They save Naboo and Qui-Gon offers to let Anakin become a Jedi.

Obi-Wan tells him it's his choice, but makes sure Anakin understands what it means to be a Jedi. In the end Anakin decides to stay with Obi-Wan and his mother.

Obi-Wan began to train him more in the ways of the Force and tells him more about the past and the Sith and how Palpatine is one and he is the person they are trying to stop.

Because of this Palpatine can never get his claws into Anakin because Anakin doesn't trust him.

I'm a little foggy on details now, but I know that Obi-Wan and Anakin get to know Padme more and stay in touch. I think if Anakin ever did have a crush on her it didn't last because he had a different environment and she saw him grow up and kept seeing him as little boy she first meet and then as a brother. (I could chance this later,) I've also thought about her falling for Obi-Wan (Which would take him by surprise) I don't know that is up in the air.

The war still happens and Obi-Wan Anakin still fight in it but not as generals or anything cause they are not Jedi, but they are always ready to help with relief missions.

Somehow they defeat Palpatine, but I don't know how yet.

Sorry this is so long, I didn't realize how many words my daydreaming would take up.

Put "📘" or some other version of a book emoji into my inbox and I'll explain the plot of a fanfiction that I haven't written but daydream about.

[tess-talks-inc]

On the Topic of Telemachus’s age:

First off preface lmao I’m a stranger on the internet if you want to see this and be like “I don’t care” more power to you this isn’t to condemn it’s more like my explanation? I guess? Of why Telemachus being represented as an adult is important to the context of the story and also to me.

Like obviously once again I acknowledge artistic interpretation, and Telemachus being young is important to the story as well and is part of the role he serves as a comparison to Odysseus, but like sometimes the way some artists draw him makes him look pre-pubescent and like… I understand what you’re doing, and honestly I respect it and I hope you are having fun, but I am holding your hands when I say that him being a young adult with that attitude is so so so important to his character and his relatability.

Adulthood isn’t something that magically appears one day, taking all of your dreams, immaturity, and weakness away. Telemachus embodies that- at twenty years old, he should be inheriting a portion of his father’s house and assisting in its running. He should, for all intents and purposes, have been a full and functional independent adult looking at purely his age. However, he is both literally and mentally stuck in limbo- his father is lost, so he cannot inherit in the case of his father’s death because Odysseus’ status is MIA, and internally he knows (literally mentioned book 1 of the odyssey and in Legendary) that if he reaches for that authority as an adult, the suitors will kill him. He doesn’t feel like he can, or that he is even on equal standing to the suitors as an adult man, he cannot see himself as one like they are, and it’s why he imagines his dad doing it instead. He wants to be saved, a childlike desire, even though he has advanced to a point where he himself can do something physically. That’s why, in the odyssey, Athena tells him explicitly that he can do something about the suitors, and lays out a plan for him. She says that he is no longer a child to his face, and the Telemacheia thus begins to be a coming of age story in which he matures, and later is registered as a threat of the suitors. He is a young adult yes, and he still has aspects of his young self (idealization of his father, daydreaming, him being quick to frustration), but him being an adult who realizes that he can do something and can understand the way he is childish is important and central to his character arc.

His arc is him growing into his skin, adulthood no longer being something that fits him like loose clothes and only a description of his physical state, but something that now is tailored to him, something that feels close to right.

Honestly, I think this aspect of him being an adult while still holding onto these aspects of childishness is where Legendary and We’ll be fine falls short in adapting his character. I understand why, because while he is introduced he is not the true central character of the Saga- it’s Athena and how he affects her, that’s what’s most important. Also, once again, he was just introduced. He’s not matured yet, but he’s realizing he needs to. I still love the songs and the saga, because it’s a good adaptation that poses interesting questions, but yeah. Telemachus is v clearly a young adult and that hasn’t translated over sound yet, which I think is why this whole age debacle is happening alongside the uwu-ifying of the man.

TLDR: Telemachus is a young adult and he acts like it due to his blend of childishness and slowly gained maturity. You can draw him and see him as a child if you want, have fun with it, but at least internally understand how his 20 years of age plays into his arc a of him maturing into manhood outside of your own interpretation of him :D

[fanfictilltheend]

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

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

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

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

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

Word Count: ~13k

PART 1

AO3 Link

Violent Heart Masterlist

Full Masterlist of all my work

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel grins.

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

***

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

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

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

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

Joel’s face flattens.

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

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

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

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

Joel examines your face, looks deep into your eyes.

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

You smile to yourself.

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

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

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

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

You open your mouth, but Joel beats you.

“And that’s that,” he insists. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you truly do appreciate the sentiment. 

***

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

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

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

You nod off.

***

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

Typical.

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

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

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

Sweat drenches your whole body as you come down. 

God, you are so fucked.

***

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

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

And then you realize: that something is you.

You grin back.

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

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

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

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

“Thanks so much,” you tell him.

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

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

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

The butterflies in your chest howl. 

***

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

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

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

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

Joel rolls his eyes.

“Show me what you’ve got.”

***

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

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

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

“Jeez,” you reply.

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

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

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

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

He backs away and you whine internally at the loss.

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

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

You look into Joel’s eyes.

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

Joel watches you intently, sitting up straighter. 

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

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

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

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

You blush. 

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

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

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

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

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

You sit back up straight.

“You did? I never knew that.”

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

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

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

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

“Right here.”

***

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

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

“Looking good, old-timer.”

He snorts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was that Joel flirting? With you?

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

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

***

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

“ Christ, you look beautiful, babygirl.”

***

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

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

“Joel,” Joel replies flatly, eyeing Max.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Max frowns ever so slightly. 

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

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

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

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

Max’s cheeks turn a bit pink.

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

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

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

“Joel–”

“Who said I wasn’t?” Max sneers. 

That makes you feel a bit better. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Max never loses. 

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

You know it’s over then.

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

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

You shiver and Max positively cowers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel flinches.

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

He stares at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then Joel is breaking away from you slowly.

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you,” you whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

“Me too,” you giggle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That okay?”

“Yes,” you whine. “Want more, Daddy.”

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

“Sorry…” you mumble. “I–”

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

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

He snickers. 

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

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

That’s good because you’re positively drenched.

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

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

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

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

Joel looks flabbergasted. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Daddy,” you whine.

“Enough, little one,” Joel whispers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Daddy,” you nod, snickering. 

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

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

You grin, but then your face falls. 

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

Max hates your hair down there.

Joel looks at you in confusion.

He laughs, his face scrunching up.

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

You shiver.

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You happily fall backward. 

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

He bites your lips roughly and you groan against him.

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

“Yeah, duh, Daddy,” you snicker.

As if he even needs to say it! 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Daddy. Only yours.”

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

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

“Only Daddy.”

“Only you.”

“Good girl,” he growls.

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

“Joel,” you whine. “Oh my God.”

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

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

inside your body.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Joel does stop for a moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pauses, sweat glistening on his brow, sneering.

“You really want harder?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When your words come back you reply,

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m serious,” he snickers.

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You think about it for a second.

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

He pauses, both his words and fingerpicking. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PART 1

PART 3 (coming soon)

Violent Heart Masterlist

Full Masterlist of all my work

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[meanbossart]

ASK COMPILATION: LORE, CHARACTERIZATION, AND THE ONE IN WHICH I RUIN A BUNCH OF PEOPLE'S FUN

As usual, this is far from all of the asks in my inbox but I'm trying to catch up 😩thank you everyone for your patience!

For the record, if your ask isn't being answered, that most likely means one of three things:

I am saving it as a possible art prompt.

I sincerely don't have a very interesting or good reply for it yet!

It's a question I have been asked multiple times/the answer is in my pinned post.

Glad you like them!!

As much as I don't limit what I draw to canonical events, vampirism is so antithetical to DU drow's character journey that I couldn't really envision it, to be honest, but who knows! Maybe I'll cook up some Ascended Astarion scenario someday that is kind of a role-reversal of the Bhaalist DU Drow AU I have going on in tandem to the story.

I'll be honest, this is one of the rare times where I'm really not sure which aspect of DU drow's weirdness this is in reference to. Do you know something I don't? 😅

His masochism is very... Classic, I guess? He's in it for the pain and for the emotional connection, and the process of being pierced wouldn't cut it whatsoever, it's too subtle. The body modifications he has are an incidental result of it, but they were never really the goal.

Also having stuff dangling off his face or body would just irritate him, he specifically only does rings because all other types of jewellery get in the way too much. Pre-tadpole Bhaalist drow obviously wore them by the ton, but only as a symbol of status and because he had a permanent new-money complex🤷 so yeah not a piercing-type of character at all, sorry!

He's smooth from the eyelashes-down and profoundly weirded out by body hair LOL

I don't personally think that whatever Astarion had for a home before would bear my resemblance to it after 200 years - having probably gone through several owners, remodeled, if not completely lost to the destruction of the end-game. I do HC that he used to visit it whenever he could as an enthralled spawn to read his mail, but he stopped after his father passed.

THANK YOU, I THINK? I can't say that isn't a passionate description at least!

I'm honestly surprised that this comes up as often as it does LOL but it's just an stylistic choice on my end!

The latter - for sure. He figured that them dying at each other's hands at the end was a given and took that assumption entirely for granted (and I'm sure daydreamed about it often while Gortash went on and on about political strategy during their dinner meetings.)

;))) way ahead of you and by "way ahead" I mean "eventually and whenever I can figure out when to do it alongside the other 30 ideas I am currently juggling" (but I really do want to make a little comic out of it!)

He used them! Not immediately, but he grew to trust the guardian after some initial suspicion and happily gobbled up those squirmy little things alongside Astarion. Because I made his character on a whim and without any planned backstory, I didn't really put any thought into his Guardian's appearance either, so she's just a human woman with a Joan of Arc look going on who's of no significance to him or his past.

But DU drow did trust her, again not immediately but eventually. It was honestly a big kick in the gut to him when the Emperor revealed himself and it definitely set their relationship up to fail from the get-go.

This is also why he didn't ascend to the next stage of Ilithid power, he just stomped the thing dead right on the spot LOL

LMAO I think Gortash is too proud to chase a tail he can't catch like that

He was probably very overwhelmed by the sudden realization that OH, THIS IS ALL HAPPENING BECAUSE OF ME which naturally didn't come across whatsoever to anyone present since he immediately bottled it up and tucked it away out of sight. However, as the story progressed and DU drow helped his friends get out of their respective pickles he was probably able to justify it to himself as it having been for the greater good - since it led to Astarion being freed from his master and Shadowheart to defying the Sharrans.

As for all of the rest of the ensued destruction and death that resulted from it? Well you can't make an omelette without cracking some eggs, or whatever is the wizard version of that saying. He has essentially turned the entire situation into a net-positive in his mind and sleeps great at night because of it.

[lightwise]

They Call Themselves The Bad Batch

Parallels between TCW S7 E1 and TBB S3 E11

Watching the latest TBB episode, I realized there are some striking parallels between the very first time we meet our boys in season 7 of the Clone Wars, and watching them be hunted down on Pabu after everything they’ve been through. I know this isn’t the last episode, but this is the countdown to wrapping up this part of their story. Let’s take a look at the first time we see them on screen vs. now:

TCW: The Bad Batch is brought in to help find an algorithm on Anaxes that has been causing the GAR to lose tons of battles by “learning our tendencies and using that data against us”. Rex was one of the army’s best tacticians and he was being defeated by his own strategies being copied. 

TBB: CX-2 uses every tactic that the Batch possesses against them (tracking, data decryption, sniping, hand to hand, demolition). The Batch was the best the army had and they are defeated by CX-2 in this episode. 

TCW: Cody asks his superiors (Mace and Anakin) to let him take a team and go behind enemy lines in order to try and find/defeat this algorithm. 

TBB: Omega convinces Crosshair to help her give herself up to go back to Tantiss so they can finally rescue the clones still imprisoned there. 

TCW: Rex looks at a picture of his “family” - Cody, Fives and Echo. Also, this is where we get Cody’s famous line “sometimes in war it’s hard to be the one that survives”—which is exactly what the entirety of TBB has been about. 

TBB: Omega puts memorabilia of her family—Tech’s goggles and Lula—into the Archium for safekeeping and remembrance.

TCW: Cody and Rex have a conversation about Rex’s theory that Echo might actually be alive. Cody’s response begs him to not have “misplaced hope. I need you to be focused on this.” 

TBB: Omega and Crosshair discuss their limited options as the Empire closes in on them on Pabu. “Think about the greater mission. I’m just a small part of it”. 

TCW: Tech brings the Havoc Marauder brought in onto the platform with the infamous Tech turn. 

TBB: CX-2 has his ship brought in by remote with a menacing turn mid-air so the ramp faces them after capturing Omega.  

TCW: Wrecker’s (and any Batch members’) first line - “The Cavalry Has Arrived”

TBB:  - The last episode of the series will be titled this. 

TCW: Crosshair is introduced as being able to hit precise targets from 10 klicks away.

TBB: Crosshair misses the most important shot he could ever make.

TCW: One of Wrecker’s first “feats” that we see him perform is rescuing Cody from a downed gunship before it explodes. Cody is then severely injured, flat on his back, and out of commission for the mission.

TBB: Wrecker risks his life and rescues Gonky before the Marauder explodes. He is unconscious and flat on his back for the rest of the episode.

TCW: Tech tells Jesse and Kix that “maps can be wrong. Hunter never is”. 

TBB: Crosshair immediately notices when Hunter’s senses go off and asks “what is it Hunter?” “Not sure, but I don’t like it.” 

TCW: Rex states “We should move out before reinforcements arrive. Our position has been compromised”. 

TBB: Omega tells Lyana that it’s safer if they leave, and Crosshair notes to Hunter that ships don’t blow up by themselves and therefore they’ve been compromised. 

TCW: Tech is easily able to hack into the computer and give Rex a reading of the algorithm and pinpoint its location, in the process finding out that it is actually Echo on Skako Minor. 

TBB: The episode opens with CX-2 hacking into Phee’s ship and decrypting her data logs and flight patterns to Pabu. 

TCW and TBB: The episodes end with ships flying off into the sunset with eerie red lighting, and the Bad Batch theme music playing is a somewhat melancholy version of their theme rather than the standard one. 

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[monakisu]

I'm pretty sure Joker being like Sleeping Beauty in Royal was intentional. After all, third semester in general has a fairytale theme, with Sumire being Cinderella and Maruki being the Fairy Godmother that grants her (and everyone else's) wishes. But he's also Maleficent, because he puts Sleeping Beauty (Joker) to sleep. Hence Maruki viewing himself as the good guy but also being the bad guy. He gives Sleeping Beauty his Prince Charming (Akechi) in order to convince him to stay within the dream of the false reality, but fails to realize what Prince Charming's goal is in every telling of the story. To wake Sleeping Beauty. Hence, Akechi being the most against the fake reality and being the one to convince Joker not to stay in the reality. By failing to admit his role as the villain, Maruki brings about his own demise in the form of Akechi. It's so well done I can't imagine it being anything but intentional. I mean, Joker even walks with Akechi, "once upon a dream" if one considers the fake reality akin to a dream.

^^^ YEAH!!!!!! YOU GET IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🧨💥🧨💥🧨💥

i find the irony of goro and maruki’s varying self-awareness levels to be RESPLENDENT!! like here we have goro who has always desperately yearned to be the hero and yet he’s resigned himself to playing the role of villain, the big bad wolf killing mothers and fathers and plotting against the righteous thieves… but come third semester he’s the heroic prince charming saving sleeping beauty!!

(although i like my yaoi toxic, i have to admit how perfectly akira and goro click together as two halves of a whole; they intrigue and excite each other, fulfill their savior complexes and desire to be known intimately, bring the best and worst out of each other...) these two freaks are literally this:

anyways i like to daydream that in the euthanasia ending (i enjoy how horrifying and clinical that name is) even after the rest of the world has long forgotten akira, goro, who has always been stubbornly aware and driven by the truth (i mean, both his AOA's talk about the truth; the boy is FIXATED), will eventually make his way up sleeping beauty’s tower to wake up his love…

and then there’s the other part of the irony: maruki who thinks himself to be his new reality’s messiah but is actually the real Big Bad woa!! a classic evil queen, the evil stepmother, coraline’s other mother trying to trap her in her spiderweb… amazing!!! like u said, he’s simultaneously sumi’s fairy godmother and akira’s villainous fairy! everyday i thank the devs for adding third semester bcuz hoo boy did it elevate p5 to the high heavens!!

i’ve always been very fond of the sleeping beauty parallels in p5, but i’d never thought about it thoroughly enough to realize how instrumental goro’s prince charming role is in dismantling malecificent’s curse! thank u for opening my eyes!! i’m literally giddy from glee!!!

[creedslove]

FAMILY BLISS 💘

Post outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: After dreaming so much about it, Joel finally finds out you are carrying his baby 🥺

(This can be read as a sequence of SLEEP BLISS 💤, SHOWER BLISS 🫧, MOONLIGHT BLISS 🌙, BABY BLISS 🍼 PART ONE AND TWO, CHOCOLATE CAKE BLISS 🎂 AND STORM BLISS ⛈️ or it can be read as a one shot)

Warnings: fluff, just fluff, pregnancy, pregnant reader, dad joel, fluff, fluff, fluff and fluff

A/N: I am back with a Bliss story because I missed Joel so much and it was about time we make this man happy!!! I know he's out of character but whatever, let's keep him happy! 🩷🩷🩷

1.1k words (short and sweet)

Joel's heart skipped a beat and his whole world stopped as he looked down at you, your scared, teary eyes, your voice not louder than a whisper as you had said two simple words. 

"I'm pregnant" 

Two words that made him feel dizzy and lightheaded for a moment, not being able to wrap his head around the fact you were indeed expecting a child. 

He had longed for that, at the same time he dreaded it, all the nights he spent buried deep inside of you, always hoping something would happen as he didn't pull out, but also being terrified that something would happen and that you two would have to face the consequences. 

Who mentally fit would actually bring a baby into the apocalypse? Who Would risk going through a pregnancy, labor, postpartum when the world went to hell? But the answer was simple: apparently you and him. 

You bit your lips so nervously, anxiety and fear were noticeable at any slight movement, you knew it could happen, it would probably happen, you weren't on birth control, Joel didn't pull out and lately he had been bringing it up the baby talk so many times, you didn't know until what extent he meant it or he was just daydreaming, but the reality hit you hard when you stopped getting your periods, your started feeling nauseous every single morning and suddenly all your jeans seemed tight. He had got you pregnant, and in a matter of months, a baby would come out of you, you were going to be a mom, and Joel would be a dad. 

A dad again. 

After almost a lifetime, Joel was gifted the opportunity of being a father, of having a child of his own, a child he could love, protect, and take care of. Even if he wasn't young anymore, even if he wasn't a good man anymore, no matter how many times you tried reassuring him, he wouldn't believe you, he was convinced he had become a bad person. 

But at the same time, he didn't believe bad people were rewarded good things, so either that meant he wasn't a bad person at all or that he didn't deserve you and the baby. But just as everything about your relationship, he was tired of denying himself a glimpse of happiness, he knew he wasn't worthy of you, and now he wasn't worthy of your baby, but he was selfish and he would keep the two of you to himself no matter what. 

He realized you expected something from him, a reaction, a comment, a smile or a frown. It killed you to see him standing still, an awkward silence filling the room.

Joel tried finding words to tell you, but he just couldn't, nothing would come out of his throat, so his hands just gripped your sides, pulling you to him, lifting you up and twirling you around, at the same time you squealed and wrapped your arms around his neck. 

You felt relief when he picked you up, still without saying a word, he kissed you. Your lips, your cheeks, the tip of your nose and your forehead. 

"Our baby" he finally whispered, resting his forehead against yours. His hands had a firm grip around your body, he just wouldn't let go of you, nor your baby, because the three of you were a family now and there was nothing in the world he loved more than that. 

He cupped your face with both hands, smiling and kissing you over and over "I love you, Y/N, I love your family" Joel said with a true happiness he hadn't felt in so long in his life. 

And over the following months he became the most protective partner in the world. If that was even possible, but he did and god, you couldn't have asked for a better man than Joel to have by your side. 

You were always so happy to welcome him home after patrol, always dinner ready for your man as he picked you up, kissed you and then lowered himself to your belly, kissing it and talking to the baby. 

You two still didn't know if you were having a little boy or a little girl, but it didn't matter, Joel was so excited he asked his brother to help him build the nursery. They would go with neutral colors and once baby Miller grew up you two could pick up the decoration you thought fit your baby the best. 

You were the most beautiful woman to Joel, no one looked as gorgeous as you did, the way your body got curvy with the pregnancy, your breasts looked filled up, it all awakened a hunger in him, he couldn't get enough of you, always touching you and making love to you, because yeah, now Joel also made love to you. It wasn't just fucking, it was also making love, and it felt incredible. 

Even when you were already heavily pregnant, feeling huge and unattractive, Joel was still there, to make you feel better and remind you how much he loved you. Your baby was growing strong in your womb and you were so anxious about it all, but every time you looked into his warm, brown eyes, everything was okay again.

He made sure to be by your side through everything, every single moment of your pregnancy, refusing to go on patrols when you reached the final weeks, not risking missing the birth of your beautiful miracle. And when time came and your water broke, he was also there. 

Joel was strong, ruthless and fearless, but he could swear you nearly crushed his bones when you held his hand. He watched you in awe as you screamed in pain and pushed as hard as you could in order to give birth to your baby. He could see you were exhausted, sweaty and a little pale, but you looked like a goddess to him. When your baby's first cries were heard in the room, the two of you were taken by such emotion. That tiny little thing placed in your arms was a baby girl. 

Joel had a daughter. Again. 

He looked at you and then at your beautiful little one, not believing how lucky he got even after everything that happened, how he had a reason to live after all this time he assumed his life had ended. 

He didn't even try to hide his emotion, the tears in his eyes as he carefully took the baby into his arms. His beautiful princess just whimpering softly before nuzzling his chest. 

You hadn't thought of a name yet, but the new baby Miller was already Joel's whole world and whenever he looked at you, there was nothing he wanted more than make you his wife, even if marriages weren't really a thing in the apocalypse.

_____

A/N: How could you say no to Joel asking you to have his babies???????????

[ffcrazy15]

"Just Write For Yourself"

I think the thing that gets to me the most about the whole "just write for yourself!" response to writers complaining the lack of engagement in fanfic, is that it makes me realize that there's a fundamental misunderstanding between writers and readers of how much work writing fic is.

Like, there are 2-3 scenes in any given oneshot or chapter that I want to write. I usually write those first. They'll take me a couple of, very enjoyable, hours at most.

And then I have to go back and write the whole rest of the fic. Which is work. And it's usually not immediately enjoyable.

For example, one of my best fics on AO3 is a Star Trek fanfic called Rascal'ed. This was one of the fics that was easiest for me to write, one of the ones that just possesses you until it's done. It took me less than five days to create.

And I still had to go back in and fill in blank spots and cut bad prose and revise the dialogue.

If you want to see what a difficult fic to write looks like, like my fic Leap of Faith, here's what I do for my stories that I actually plan out:

And that's just the planning. I still have to write the damn thing. And there are things in the above layout—which is just for Chapter 1, mind—that got changed between this and the final published version of the chapter. You can see that the title of the story itself was changed at some point.

So when people say, "write for yourself, not for engagement!" What I personally hear is: "I as a reader do not understand how much work writers put into getting a story into a publishable form, and I also do not realize how easy it would be for them to write the couple of scenes they enjoyed writing and then to let it sit forever in their drafts."

(Of these eight fics—averaging more than 20 pages each—only two of them ever made it to AO3. The rest remain unfinished and unpublished.)

And for the record: I, personally, have wonderful readers. Kind, attentive readers who leave me comments engaging with the work. And it's because of them that I continue to publish stories! Like, I don't want to sound like sour grapes here, because I know that I get way more comments than many great writers out there.

But I've seen, across the board, writers trying to express that they are just not getting the engagement that they desire and expect for the work they put in, and people responding with "you shouldn't expect engagement; just write for yourself."

And the thing is, I know they're not trying to be rude. I know that! Of course they don't know how hard we work, who would have ever told them? We can't blame them for not knowing what they've never been told. Which is why I just felt the need to get out here and say:

Writing fics takes a lot of work. A lot of work. Hours upon hours of unpaid labor. Any fic that you see on AO3 or Fanfiction.net or Wattpad, is not something someone wrote solely for themselves. They could have just daydreamed about it, or written a couple of scenes and then left it unfinished. But they chose to put in the hard work it took to finish it. Because they wanted other people to read and engage with it.

Please engage with it.

Because if all fic writers ever hear is "you should just write for yourself"—we might start believing it.

[yourheartonfireblog]

So, I've been thinking about The Locked Tomb as a whole, particularly about how Tamsyn Muir pulls off the trick of making a dramatic tone and perspective switch with every book, yet it still feels cohesive as a story and a series.

Something that just clicked for me after a reread of Harrow the Ninth is noticing that a motif obviously present in HtN is actually running through all the books, in a way that supports this constant resetting at the beginning of every novel. And that is Alternate Universes. As in, like, the fanfiction concept of AUs.

Massive spoilers ahead for the first three books of The Locked Tomb:

Probably the biggest link between the books is the structure. All three books of The Locked Tomb roughly follow the same narrative pattern; the narrator/protagonist starts the story hopelessly outclassed and the least informed person in the situation in which she finds herself. At first she is passive or blocked from action, but there's a realization/revelation that she is not as helpless as initially thought. She builds in power and action (and this is rewarded with exposition dumps to catch her and the reader up on what is actually happening). The final act is a fight to the death and as she is dying the narrator makes a sacrifice of her own body in a way that manages to preserve at least part of her consciousness outside herself.

(The secondary narrative in Nona the Ninth -John's confession- loosely follows this pattern too. Except of course John makes a different decision in the final act of his story.)

More than just the structure, each story is a variation on the same themes. Some of them are obvious. Power and how people use it/ abuse it. The narrator's relationship to their own body and how it becomes an expression of trauma.

But another less obvious theme, right from the first chapter of Gideon, is the narrators all have some connection to an Alternate Universe version of themselves/ their lives.

I'll admit this theory is weakest in GtN. But I don't think it's a coincidence that Gideon's entire life plan is inspired by military-themed porn mags - a smut AU, if you will. She's also the only one of the narrators who regularly indulges in daydreams that give her the strength to fight and struggle forward. Also not, I believe, a coincidence.

In HtN things start getting more on the nose - unlike Gideon, Harrow has magic. Rather than accept reality, Harrow uses her power to lobotimize herself into creating and living in an alternate reality, while retelling an alternate version of the prior book. This of course is the book with the infamous role swap/ Regency ball / barista AU sequence, just in case you didn't get what's going on.

But NtN is equally about AUs - Nona is the story where the universe conspires to give Harrow and Gideon the alternate universe of the life they both wanted. Gideon (or at least her body) does turns out to be the daughter of the emperor and the crown prince of the universe. Harrow (or at least her body) gets a found family who love her and a brain that is 100% free of the horrible truth of her abominable origin. We spend most book wondering just who is in that body, Harrow or Gideon, and that's part of the point. The trauma is so deep Harrow and Gideon are unrecognizable as people if their slate is wiped. So of course Nona turns out to be a secret third option.

More to the point, NtN is the book where we learn that the Nine Houses are, in fact, John's shitty self-insert AU. Harrow had a little power a and lobotimized herself, John had more and lobotimized all of humanity he could get his hands on, remaking them into this bizarre and baroque universe centered around worshipping him as a god-emperor. The planet of New Rho, outside John's direct control, is bursting with life and chaos and mess and humanity that is missing entirely from the glimpses we get of John's universe. It's no wonder the other survivors call everyone in the Nine Houses zombies - they are, in fact, brainwiped slaves to John's whims whomever he will pick up, put down, resurrect, and murder exactly as he thinks is best.

I'm very excited for Alecto the Ninth and how this is going to play out now that we've met all three of the people in this relationship, and everyone is in the same place in the right body.

[kirchefuchs]

a random day dream for you if you'd like.

Imagine A: Tinky himself can go in and out of the box to mess with Ted and any Spankoffski inside as he pleases.

B: he can somehow carry the box while inside the box. For everyone BUT Tinky, that box could also be the key out. Or at least it's rumored to be by those inside.

C: As basically a time god, the moment someone makes the decision to do something, Tinky could potentially see it coming if he's focused enough.

Imagine one day while messing with however many different timelines of Ted in the box, one version of Ted actually got bold. Instead of running, he tries to get the drop on Tinky to get the box and fails. But Tinky's amused enough by the attempt he makes a new game out of it. Basically "take this pebble from my hand" with the energy of roommates fighting over the remote. After many failed attempts (cause of course one of the only moments Tinky actively uses this kinda time sight is when he's messing with someone.) Ted gets desperate enough to decide the only weapon he's got left...is the ol Spankoffski charm. This time he reaches not for the box, but Tinky himself and pulls him into a kiss.

The moment Tinky sees it coming catches him off guard enough that the moment it happens, he's a flustered mess twice in a row. Like brain sounds like dial up for a good long minute even after Ted pulls back and runs with the box in his hands.

It may very well have been the moment Ted went from favorite toy to Tinky's hopeless crush. And then the moment after, the realization that his box is missing would send Tinky after that Ted like a bat outta hell.

Just the most out of nowhere daydream I ever got that I thought you might appreciate.

This took up 2 whole pages in my sketchbook, but I had to draw it. I couldn't stop thinking about this since you sent this ask

Anyways, I love this and I love you so much, this is amazing and you are brilliant. This is canon in the little tinkoffski story in my brain now. This is 100% what kicks it all off. I feel like Tinky would run off to Stopwatch after this to ask about what it in the world emotions are, cuz he's the only human he'd be willing to talk to. After all, he couldn't go to his brothers about it cuz A: they wouldn't know either and B: they'd 10000% judge him for it, or worse. From then on Tinky starts going to Daniel whenever he needs help with human issues and slowly but surely starts learning how to be less evil, lol

[leasstories]

Timeless

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

No trigger warning, just fluff.

WC ≈ 1.5K

Based on Timeless by Taylor Swift

January 1987,

You’ve been walking in the streets of Indianapolis when an antique shop comes into view. You enter the shop and stop at the counter where thousands of old photos are on display. Most of them are photos of couples from different period of times. The sign says: ‘Photos, 25 cents each”. All of those old photos make you think of your relationship with your boyfriend, Eddie. 

The first photo you came across was a black and white photo of a bride in the ‘30s, it made you think of how much you would love to be Eddie’s bride, it makes you imagine what your dream wedding with the love of your life would look like. You think about how you would definitely marry Eddie in a heartbeat. It makes you daydream about how he might propose and about how, if one day he does, your gonna throw yourself at him.

You then saw the photo of school lovers laughing on the porch of their first house. It reminds you of the day you and Eddie moved in together. After the events of the Upside Down, Eddie and you didn’t lose a second, seeing Eddie battling for life in the hospital made you realize that your love for him is the kind of love you find only once in a lifetime. Eddie got out of the hospital in May 1986, with the financial compensation that the state gave the both of you, you bought a small trailer at Hawkins trailer’s park. You officially moved in together in June 1986 and have been living together ever since. You were the one nursing his wounds, you are the one who is here for him, in the middle of the night when he wakes up from a nightmare. You know that you’ll be here for him for as long as he allows you to be. Eddie is for you, the kind of love that you don’t put down, you cling to it for as long as you can. Even if Eddie despises conformity, you and Eddie are High School Sweetheart, you met in school and started dating during his second senior year. And this photo reminded you of that, it reminded you of how Eddie and you, are the American Teenage love story. Your first date was in a shitty drive in, your first kiss behind the bleachers and your first ‘I love you’ in the confines of Eddie’s bedroom. You first moved in together before graduating, and almost a year later, your shared trailer feels more like home than your respective childhood homes. 

You came across photos of couples in 1944, photos of women reading letters from their beloved who left to fight for the war, and at that moment, you realized that even if you met Eddie at that time, and were one of those women, you would have been waiting for him. 

At some point you spotted a photo of a teenage couple holding hands, on their way to a dance, the date said 1958. You took the photo in your hands and smiled. You feel like time stopped and remember the first time you saw Eddie. You remember that you were in Junior High and you were already intrigued by this little boy. You remember that, despite his buzzcut at the time, the first thing you thought of him was that he was pretty. Eddie and you were two grades apart, but from the moment you saw him to the moment he left Junior High, you kept admiring from afar. Then, you went to High School and your fascination turned into warmth into the pit of your stomach. During Eddie’s first senior year (and your Sophomore year), you finally realized that you had a crush on Eddie. Then you had the courage to join Hellfire. When Eddie said “hello” is when you story started. You didn’t have any hopes of being Eddie’s girlfriend. Eddie didn’t seem to date, but you took the opportunity to get to know him and spend time with him. And once you got to know him, you became head over heels, Eddie wasn’t only a good looking guy, deep down, he was also a real sweetheart.  You knew that there will never be anyone else than Eddie. Your heart belonged to him the minute he said “Hello” when you approached him to join the Hellfire Club. All of these memories, all of your story with Eddie, you are so scared to forget it all. 

You got out of your trip down the memory lane and came upon an old book, covered in cobwebs. When you open the book and start reading it, you realize that it is the story of a romance torn apart by fate. This story is your worse nightmare and reminds you that you almost lost Eddie in March of last year, it reminds you that fate almost teared you apart. It’s a story taking place a century ago. The couple fell in love just like you did with Eddie, they were teenage sweethearts too, the man died for the woman the same way Eddie almost died to protect you. And you know that you would die for him in the same way, Eddie is the most important person of your life. 

All of those pictures and stories made you realize that if you were forced to marry another man, your heart would still be Eddie’s. You would hide from your husband and read Eddie’s love letters every single nights. You would end up running away, leaving your life behind. Eddie still would be yours. You believe that the two of you were supposed to find each other and that in any lifetime, Eddie would be yours and you would be his. 

Times does affect your body, it’s scientific, but you know it won’t touch your soul, it won’t change your love for Eddie. In 50 years, you still see yourself love Eddie. Eddie’s always going to be yours and you are always going to be his. You know your love is timeless. You know that when you’ll be old and gray, you’ll keep loving him. You know you’ll have a cardboard full of photos laying in front of you. Photos of the life that Eddie and you have made. 

As those photos and this book made you think of Eddie, you went back on the streets and searched for a call box. As soon as you find it, you put all of your cents in the machine and dial your trailer’s phone number. 

“You’ve reached Eddie Munson, what can I do for ya?” Eddie asks.

“Baby!” You say, excited and out of breath.

“Sweets, where are you? Is everything okay?” Eddie asks, concerned.

“Yeah, yeah everything okay. I was just missing you.” You say softly.

“I miss you too, where are you?” Eddie asks again. “Still in Indianapolis?”

“Yes. Eddie I came across an antique shop and there were so many photos of couples. And it’s so hard to explain, but I saw us on those photos instead. It made me realize that somehow, I know that you and I would have found each other, even in another life. Even if we met in 1944 and you were headed off to fight in the war, you still would’ve been mine. I would have read your love letters every nights, praying that you’d be coming home all right. I would’ve impatiently waited for your return and then you would’ve proposed and we would have married each other once the war was over.” 

“You’re so cheesy” Eddie says, you can hear the smile in his voice. “But I also believe that we are timeless, that no matter what we would have found each other. Don’t say anyone I said this but I believe we are two halves of the same soul an that no matter what, we were destined to find each other.”

“And now who’s the cheesy one” You say smiling from ear to ear.  You can hear the bip of the call box indicating that your calling time is almost over.

“Eddie, I have to hang up but I love you, so much. See you tonight.”

A few days after this phone conversation, Eddie proposed to you. He wrote an acoustic song (which is really rare for Eddie) inspired by your phone call, a song telling you how much he loves you and how you and Eddie would have found each other in any other lifetimes. And in the cardboard you made, where you gathered all of your photos with Eddie, you added your engagement photo. A photo of you, arm wrapped around Eddie’s neck your body pressed tight against Eddie’s, tears of happiness rolling down your cheeks. You and Eddie both know it’s only the beginning and that in a few decades from now, the cardboard will be filled with memories, because you are meant for each others. 

In every scenarios, every period of time you could have been living in, you imagine your heart belonging to Eddie. You and Eddie, your love story, really is timeless. 

Taglist: @abellmunsonmovie

[aniimoni]

Hello, have you gushed over your hcs of miserable Narinder somewhere yet? Because.. do you mind doing it again? I think I am intrigued

First off, anon, thank you very much for asking this. Second, it’s more precisely an AU, but a hc works too!

Keep in mind this is a very recent idea for me, so I only have the gist of it.

That being said, you have opened pandora’s box:

This AU starts off with Lamb meeting TOWW (Narinder) while they are very much opposites. Lamb yearns for community and a simple pleasant life, TOWW is still a power hungry god and pretty much hell bent on revenge. However, they both see the common ground they have: the Bishops and their feelings towards them. Lamb hesitantly agrees to start the cult in his name, they find Narinder’s idea of revenge slightly intriguing, but they do not really have a big picture in mind.

Lamb is the first to try and initiate some sort of community with Narinder, especially during the times that gaining new followers was very new to them. Narinder was a familiar face, and they very honestly felt some pity for him; not having been able to step outside for such a long time and all that. They would often die on purpose in order to pay a visit, hopefully start some kind of conversation.

At first, the frequent visits confused him very much and, at times, annoyed him. Getting his revenge was the only goal in his mind, and he wanted it quickly. BUT! I imagine (no, I KNOW) being isolated (even with Aym and Baal) for as long as Narinder was, he got very bored. So, after a couple visits, and some temptations, he began to feel more curious than inconvenienced. Lamb would often bring him things from the mortal world that they think would interest him, or that he should get to know. Eventually, some form of story time became a tradition. Lamb would come to his domain and tell him a story, wether it was an event that happened that day (gossip lol) or even a folk tale of some sort. It was, in a way, ridiculous to him. But he did find them “enriching” at times.

Over time, he grew very fond of Lamb and their visits. He found that it was his way of connecting with the world after such a long time, that’s what a vessel is for, after all. And, with the growing of the cult, they would describe to him how beautifully it was coming along. They would tell him about the gleaming orchards, luminescent nights, bountiful farms, delicious food, and gorgeous architecture. But what he found a lot of interest in was hearing about how the followers were also growing. He got to hear about cultists finding each other, getting to know one another, forming bonds, friendships, falling in love, getting married, forming lives together. Narinder got to hear about community, something he had been deprived of for such a long time. Eventually, the idea of getting revenge as soon as he was set free wasn’t the most intriguing idea anymore. He began to understand and know the feeling that the lamb described as no other than yearning. He yearned for gleaming orchards, the luminescent nights, the bountiful farms, the delicious food, and the gorgeous architecture. He yearned for community. But the horrid realization he had to come to terms with was the fact that he yearned to have this all with the lamb. He wanted to experience it all with no one other than the one who took it upon themselves to bring these ideas to him (the guy would daydream for fucks sake like oh my god get a grip you are in the trenches dude they’re gonna have to die for you to be fully free wth are you doing,, anyway). He yearned for this feeling to be returned, and it made him miserable.

Yes, the lamb enjoyed Narinder’s company- yes, they enjoyed the community the cult offered- but, they had had a growing change in perspective. The amount of control the crown offered was interesting. They could destroy the other gods, the problem, easily. With the power they had been given, they didn’t need to fear. There wasn’t a need to yearn when they could just get what they want at their own will. They began to see a much bigger picture.

The time for the final sacrifice grew nearer- BUT SURPRISE! Even with impending freedom, Narinder was more miserable than ever. He came to terms with the fact he wanted the lamb to be at his side, or well, he wanted to be at THEIR side. However, there was the dilemma of the final sacrifice that was needed. And who could ever want to be with someone who needed them to die? He had no clue what to do but stall, which could only last so long.

Reluctantly, he finally informed Lamb of what needed to be done, they refused (obviously dude). They fought. Neither could really understand what it was the other was fighting for. They couldn’t understand how 2 sides of the same coin could tumble from side to side so much.

Narinder was usurped. Lamb claimed victory. Both of them were in shock, because neither had REALLY imagined this. No one knew what to do next. The lamb expected at least some anger from Narinder’s part, some form of resistance, but they absolutely did not expect him to plead.

Even he couldn’t understand why he was on his knees, gripping at their cape. All he could really understand and know was the feeling, and it was more overwhelming now, more than ever. He yearned for a life. He pleaded for mercy, for a chance. And, the worst of it all, is that the lamb understood the tears in his eyes and the begging of his words, and Narinder the stoic expression on their face and the confusion in their silence.

Lamb allowed him to stay, but had no idea what to do with him. So, they locked him (not literally) in a hut; which he pretty willingly stayed in (in an effort to ease tensions). They try to avoid him as much as they can, but he keeps clinging onto the dreams they passed down to him.

Anyways yea that’s it lol, like i said pretty simple and vague as of right now 🫶🏼 some stuff might change idk

[the-dawn-star]

Place to Stay Klaus M. x Gilbert!Reader x Elijah M. part. 26

A/N: And here we are again! This took way too long and to be honest I have been feeling really uninspired with this story (also life has kept me busy and I haven't felt the best). But still I would love to hear you comments and opinions about the story. Also, any comments are really appreciated!!

-S

+1500ish words.

The rain hit the car window, but I didn’t mind. It kept my awareness of reality attached and made sure I didn’t wander into an endless loop of daydreaming and panic inducing memories. Elena and Stefan were sitting in the front seats, but neither had said anything since leaving. Elena needed a while to process the idea of me kissing Klaus. 

Elenas’ unwillingness to speak clarified that when we eventually spoke, it would be a shouting match. So, I tried my best to prevent the collision, so I had taken the same. 

The sight of our front yard made my heartbeat spike up. With a quick look at the car’s display mirror, showed Stefan’s eyes, who I made eye contact with and showed me he had realized it too.  

Stefan was always polite to me, and valued him, but I avoided upsetting my sister for quite some time.. He was Elena’s boyfriend before my friend. He never stopped his brother from harassing Bonnie, Caroline, Elena, me, or any other woman.  

I was last to get out of the car and face my sister. She was waiting on the porch. All the sadness I had seen before was gone. For a moment, I had thought, for once, it would be just Stefan who proved me and my sister in the house wrong by getting out of the car. But it was better, Stefan a master at resolving conflict, and… just maybe, he might see my side of the situation, too. Or perhaps Stefan would take Elena’s side just because they are dating, but I wanted to. No, I needed to think positive. 

All three of us got nearly dry. I wanted to use the rain as an excuse to run upstairs. Hide until the tension wouldn’t be so high. However, I didn’t have time to execute my escape plan because of Elena’s eyes being glued to me.  

“I’ll get the ring.” Stefan exclaimed before almost running upstairs.  

Elena walked through the hallway to the kitchen. The fridge opening and closing gave her away. I didn’t want to leave the entrance like I could just run away from my sister again. So, with all the care in the world, I walked to the kitchen seeing Elena drinking water next to the island counter.  

I heard Stefan walking down the stairs, most likely because he wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t startle us.  

I took my place on the armchair, not sure if it was a good idea if there was going to be a screaming match with my sister. Elena leaned to the counters not looking thrilled with the situation she was in.  

Stefan walked closer to me and opened his palm. That was the ring Jenna had promised me before her death. The ring was a small old golden band with little carvings engraved on it. I have looked at it since I was 10 years old.  

I picked up the ring, terrified like it could break against my fingers at any moment and turn into nothing. I turned to look at my sister, whispering thank you to her, but she didn’t look at me. Instead, She stared at the floor. I turned back to the ring on my fingertips before sealing it into my fist. I couldn’t wear it, not right now, at least.  

“Give the other one to her...” I turned to look at my sister, whose words had something that I couldn’t name or place. Stefan swapped a quick look with her for confirmation before tucking his hand into his jeans' back pocket and pulling out another ring.  

The Gilbert ring.  

Stefan handed the ring closer to me, but I couldn’t help but push myself against the pillow against my back.  

“I thought you would like to have it, just in case Klaus gets murderous against his brother’s ‘friend’,” Elena whispered, but still kept his eyes on the floor.  

I had always held the opinion that the Gilbert rings were not only ugly, but also useless in most situations. But still, wearing it might save my life one day, even if it forced me to wear such a massive and bulky ring.  

I took it from Stefan and examined it closer, running my fingertips against its rigid surface.  

I gave them one more look before closing my fist around them and I forced myself to close my eyes to make sure I wouldn’t get vertigo. Jenna had been so angry when she found out about our parentage. Especially when she found out that Elena had been in contact with Isobell... And now I had John's ring in my pocket next to the ring of the woman who I had considered more of a sister than an aunt. 

“Is that all...?” I asked.  I knew that saying thank you would have been the proper thing to do but for some reason the idea of thanking Elena caused my body to shiver.  

“That's all you are going to say?” And there it was... The anger, the disbelief, in my sister’s voice like I had murdered someone.  

“And what would you like me to say?” I asked completely calmly before standing up. I was ready to leave, leave anywhere that wasn’t this room. I wanted to go to my room, to my own special safe heaven where I could fall into dreamless sleep.  

But I didn’t get my chance, not that Stefan would have let me leave the room before Elena got out what she had been thinking about the whole car ride. The doorbell rang and I almost jumped because of my unpreparedness.  

Slowly, my sleeves being long enough to cover my fingertips and slowly I opened my fist with the rings inside and slid the bulkier one on to my right middle finger. 

Stefan let out a deep sigh before walking to the front door and opening it to the last person I thought I would see. Rebekah Mikaelson was standing at the door frame with a beautiful smile on her lips. Her eyes scanned through the room keeping her eyes on me for a second longer than the others, her smile softened, before turning back to Stefan. 

“What are you doing here?!” My sister asked, walking a bit too fast to the front door where the Original vampire was still standing. 

“I came to check on my friend. I know how bad you guys are at taking care of each other, so…” 

I picked myself off of the chair, but I didn't move closer to the door. Elena looked like she was ready to attack Rebekah, but I assume that it was due to walking in on me and Klaus. (Like it wasn’t enough that she had also walked in on me sitting on the counter pulling Elijah closer and closer to me). 

“Hey Rebekah..,” I whispered, bringing the woman’s eyes back to me. 

“Hello, darling. Great work with Damon but next time invite me so I can be a part of it.” 

I let out a small laugh but regretted it a second later when Stefan and my sister turned to look at me with a surprise on their faces. I dropped my gaze down. 

“Well now you have seen her, so you can leave…” Stefan tried to sound intimidating but failed to make any difference to Rebekah’s behavior. She was still looking at me, eyes fixated on me. 

Was she looking for injuries?

“Hmm...” Rebekah’s eyes didn’t leave me and if I knew her at all I might have been conscious of her eyes on me but maybe just knowing that she had come to check on me made my heart warm. Our eyes met for a second and I could see the worry in her warm eyes.  

Maybe if I hadn’t known of her supernatural nature or her family history, I might have become her friend the normal way – at school while doing normal schoolwork. 

“I don’t think so..., you see I have grown fond of our dear Y/N. 

I could feel my cheeks getting hotter, but my momentary shyness was ruined when Rebekah decided to step over the door frame making it clear to everyone that the Original vampire had in fact a permission to step into the house. The house that was meant to be Original family-free. 

Elena’s face dropped and I wanted to sink through the ground all the way to the core of the Earth. And by the looks of Elena, she looked like she was ready to attack me and end my life in seconds.  

Without raising too much attention to myself, I put the chunky, ugly Gilbert ring on.  

Maybe it was a good idea that Elena and Stefan gave me the ring...

...

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[peaches2217]

i have a little headcanon to share didjaosskspcjfnsls

i like to think that mario had always wanted kids. when he found the right person, he would drop everything to have ten of them. but as he got older, there was a little fear in the back of his head that he would never be in the financial position to have a family. back in brooklyn, him and luigi were barely making enough money to survive. he kinda put that dream of a family aside.

soooo… when peach eventually gets pregnant, she finds him crying all on his own one day. she was really worried until she found out that they were happy tears. mario was finally able to put his mind at rest. he could have a family just like he always wanted. he didn’t have to worry about money and not being able to give his child the life they deserved. he was married to a royal, after all. peach had plenty of money to spare.

long story short, mario is super happy he can spoil his precious babies.🥹

THIIIIIIIIIIIIS EXACTLY THIS ANON

It doesn’t even occur to him at first, because it’s been so long since he’s wanted for anything. He’s just happy and excited! It’s not until a few days later, when the reality of the situation starts setting in, that he starts thinking about finances. There’s so much to do! They’ve gotta start stocking up on supplies, and he definitely wants to build a nursery, and he’d also like to splurge and get something for Peach to help her remain comfortable as the months progress, but there’s so many options and he wants to narrow it down to what she can use the most for the longest —

But he realizes, just as quickly, that he doesn’t have to narrow it down. He can get her a whole maternity wardrobe and one of those belts that supports your belly once it gets big and one of those big fancy pillows that wraps all the way around your body. For that matter, they can buy all the excessive luxuries she could ever want and all the supplies they’ll need until their kid turns three and never once break a sweat! What’s he trying to crunch numbers for?

At first he feels a little silly for the unnecessary worrying… then it starts to set in that, at one point in his life, those worries wouldn’t have been unnecessary at all. All these daydreams about pampering his wife and spoiling their child? He hasn’t had them since he was practically a child himself, because in adulthood, he was forced to acknowledge that he’d probably never have the means to make any of it happen. Now here he is, a consort to the most beautiful queen, and just as Peach was raised in plenty, their kid — their kids, because they can actually feasibly support more than one — will never have a need that can’t be attended to. They’ll want for nothing. It’s a childhood fantasy coming true in real time.

Peach is initially terrified when she finds him hunched over their writing desk bawling his eyes out, because Mario doesn’t really cry. But he just hugs her and thanks her and promises he’s going to spoil her and their baby rotten, and that’s enough to put her mind at ease.

[bigmusclenm]

Give or Take - Part 4

[Story Collection] | [Part 3] [●] [Part 5🔵]

Bryce woke up early, as always, but felt different than the previous day. Everything felt strange, but the memories of Mason jerking off and confessing that he wanted to grow even bigger flooded Bryce’s mind immediately. Without opening his eyes, Bryce smiled, remembering how desperate Mason had been to blow a massive load, even though a thick layer of his cum was coating the entire room already. While these memories came to mind, Bryce felt his dick getting hard, making him realize he was naked.

Bryce slowly opened his eyes and became confused for a few seconds when he noticed he wasn’t in his room. He was looking at the ceiling, and even though it was similar to his room, the surface looked dirty and somewhat damp. Then, Bryce remembered all the events from the previous night, especially the sweet moment when Mason asked him to stay the night because he was scared of waking up even bigger.

Bryce remembered Mason jerking off for the millionth time while Bryce caressed the big guy’s messy hair. Bryce remembered Mason looking desperate, and even though Bryce’s lust wanted to give his friend a hand, he resisted the urge to rub the massive 25-inch-long dick he had given Mason. Bryce knew his roommate was worried about the changes, even though he was clearly high on pleasure, so when the offer to stay the night popped up, he decided to be a good friend and show some support to his big—and hot—friend.

Bryce’s body stirred to life as he attempted to stretch like he did every morning. However, he felt a warm, hard wall right next to him, making him smile as he figured out what it was. Bryce sat up and noticed Mason was still asleep, and his body looked magnificent. Even though it had all started as a revenge plan against Mason for gaining some muscle mass, Bryce couldn’t deny that he was enjoying how hot Mason looked. Bryce couldn’t help but sigh as he observed the result of Mason’s request for more size, to which Bryce had been more than happy to oblige.

“Damn, big guy, look at you. You’re a true sight to behold,” Bryce whispered, absentmindedly biting his lower lip with desire. “600 pounds, and it’s all muscle. Fuck... I think I overdid it with the dick,” Bryce added, quietly chuckling.

Mason was spread on his king-size bed like a star, leaving only a narrow space for Bryce but enough for him to fit in. Mason was undoubtedly the most muscular man ever. Bryce felt incredibly lucky to have that big guy right next to him. Mason’s body had grown to unprecedented proportions, giving Bryce so much to see that he didn’t know where to start.

Mason’s face looked angelic, as handsome and cute as ever, but the rest of him was massive. His traps were huge, like small shoulders popping out of his actual shoulders. Mason’s cannon-ball-sized deltoids adorned his insanely broad shoulders, which were easily twice as wide as any regular man. His biceps and triceps were enormous, way bigger than anyone’s head, and looking as hard as a stone. A thick vein adorned both biceps, making them look even hotter. Mason’s forearms were as thick as pro bodybuilders’ biceps, and more veins adorned them, giving Mason an even stronger look.

Even though Mason’s arms were really impressive, Bryce moved his attention to Mason’s chest, drooling and having lustful thoughts about the mountainous pectorals. Mason’s pecs stuck out about six or seven inches from the rest of his torso and looked so full and strong that Bryce could barely resist the urge to massage them. Mason’s nipples had also grown larger and looked somewhat erect. A very horny Bryce daydreamed about licking those delicious-looking nipples, but he decided against it. He was having a hard time accepting that he was attracted to Mason’s new body, but the big guy was too hot to ignore him.

Below Mason’s massive abs, his chiseled abs looked carved into stone. Since his arms were wide open, Mason’s lats spread like wings—enormously thick wings of meat. His midsection remained pretty narrow compared to the rest of his body, but it still looked strong. Every muscle fiber on his body had grown thicker, so Mason’s waist had gained some inches to support the weight of his upper body.

Mason’s lower body was so unbelievably impressive that Bryce felt like having a stroke as he observed Mason’s huge thighs, diamond-looking calves, and the most massive dick and balls ever. Mason’s dick stood hard and tall at 3 feet long and 10 inches in diameter. His bigger-than-basketball balls rested heavily on the mattress between Mason’s massive thighs, looking ready to burst. Again, Bryce felt the urge to reach and touch the dick or the cum-filled balls, but he decided against it. He didn’t want to fall deeper for Mason, so he preferred to look from a safe distance.

As the thought of not getting intimate with Mason crossed his mind, Bryce remembered that he was naked. Mason’s growth captivated him so much that he hadn’t paid much attention to his own body. Bryce looked down to discover how much his body had grown, slowly moving off Mason’s bed. Standing on his feet made Bryce realize that his muscles had grown a lot, but he had lost several inches in height.

“Fuck! I shouldn’t have taken so many inches from that guy on the street,” Bryce whispered when he was on his feet, standing at 5’0” tall.

However, Bryce had gained so much muscle mass that he looked like a short pro bodybuilder. Bryce looked at his pecs, and they weren’t only thick but also pretty heavy, making his nipples point downward. His arms were way thicker than his previous skinny legs. His whole body was the definition of power, except for his short height. Bryce explored his new body with his own hands and finally realized that he was naked because his body had outgrown his clothes during the night.

“Man, that’s so fucking hot. My muscles are so big, but…” Bryce said, looking up at the giant snoring in bed. “I’m not nearly as hot as you, big guy,” Bryce added, grinning with lust.

While Bryce continued exploring his new big—and short—body, Mason started moving in bed, finally waking up. Bryce was excited to see Mason’s reaction to his new body, and his hard-throbbing dick didn’t let him hide his excitement.

As Mason tried to turn, making the whole bed creak, he noticed something was different and opened his eyes wide. Mason attempted to sit up, but he evidently wasn’t used to his new heavier body. For a few seconds, Mason looked like a turtle trying to get on his feet due to the size and weight of his muscles.

“What? What? What the hell is happening?” Mason shouted when he finally sat up and saw at least part of his huge body.

“Hey, calm down. Don’t... don’t get scared,” Bryce said, trying to contain his laughter.

“What? Look at me, and... Wait, why are you... naked?” Mason looked at Bryce from bed, and his massive dick throbbed, making Bryce chuckle.

“Long story. I had some problems with my clothes last night, and... well, you probably know about that,” Bryce said, stepping closer to Mason’s bed.

“What? No! Well, yes, I know how that is, but... Wait, that means you see what’s wrong here? I’m a freaking monster,” Mason replied, trying to get out of bed, but he clearly struggled to get used to his new weight.

“No. No. I mean, you’ve always been a huge guy, so I guess you understand about struggles with clothes, I guess,” Bryce nervously replied.

“You gotta be kidding; I weighed 190 pounds a few days ago. You’ve always been heavier by 70 pounds. Now look at me. Come on, you have to…” Mason said, unaware that Bryce had just grown as well. Then, Mason finally got to the edge of the bed and slowly rose to his full 7’0” height. “...accept there’s something wrong.”

With Mason standing on his feet in front of him, Bryce could finally understand how big his roommate had become. Mason towered over Bryce by two feet and more than doubled the weight and size in the muscle department. Everything in Mason’s body was huge, but it was the three-foot-long dick and the massive balls that caught Bryce’s attention.

“Nothing’s wrong. Okay? You’re a big guy, and... I think you look great. So, I have to go to work now, and you... I think you should go back to bed and relax. I promise we’ll talk about this later,” Bryce said, trying to hide the fact that he was getting horny while looking at Mason’s magnificent body.

Bryce approached Mason, intending to kiss the big guy’s cheek like the day before, but the height difference made it impossible. Bryce kissed Mason’s enormous right pec instead, leaving the big guy speechless and extremely confused. Mason stood in the middle of his room, unable to say a word, while Bryce slowly walked away and went to his own room.

When Mason was alone, he looked down at his body once again, trying to comprehend what was happening to him. His muscles were enormous, and his dick was definitely a sight to behold, but even though he was pretty scared about the sudden growth, an irrational part of his mind couldn’t help but get aroused in an instant. His dick throbbed violently, and a thick glob of pre leaked out of his slit.

Mason looked around, and for a few seconds, he pondered his options. A part of him wanted to go to the hospital to get checked because no one could grow that much naturally. He knew he was for sure the most muscular man that had ever existed, which didn’t sound that bad, but he knew it wasn’t normal. However, as he lifted his arms and flexed his biceps, another glob of pre leaked out of his slit, evidencing he was more aroused than scared. His massive size made him feel powerful.

Mason observed his enormous biceps for a few minutes and then paid close attention to his massive pecs, not seeing much past them. He smiled as he accepted that he had always dreamed about something like this. When Bryce had joined the gym months before, Mason had decided to join as well because it was an opportunity to get Bryce’s attention but also as an opportunity to accomplish what he secretly wanted: to get huge muscles.

“I look good, I feel good, and Bryce likes it. I guess it can’t be that bad if I get big,” Mason whispered while flexing. He had longed for Bryce’s attention for a while, and the kiss was definitely a good sign. “I’ll call in sick again and wait for him to come back. I have to take care of something anyway,” Mason added, moving his hands to his massive dick to caress it.

Mason jumped back into bed, breaking the bed frame due to his weight. The mattress landed on the floor, making the whole room shake. However, with a wide grin, Mason pulled his dick against the valley of his meaty pecs and started rubbing the shaft up and down, synchronizing with him popping his pecs like giving his dick a massage. Pleasuring such a big dick wasn’t easy at all, but Mason had the entire day to find ways to do so, and he also had the best motivation he could get—Bryce’s kiss on his pec.

****

Bryce rushed through the apartment, trying to find something to wear. Part of him wanted to stay and enjoy being close to Mason’s new body, but he also needed to go to work to see the changes in his boss’ and friends’ bodies. The only problem was that Bryce didn’t own clothes big enough to wear with his thicker—but shorter—body. He literally didn’t fit in any of his pants or any of his shirts. While looking for some clothes, Bryce made a quick stop to weigh himself on the scale in the bathroom and was surprised by the number 264.25. The fact that he had nothing to wear wasn’t surprising since he weighed almost twice his previous weight.

The only option Bryce had was to borrow some of Mason’s clothes he found in the dryer. Bryce found an oversized T-shirt and jeans that seemed to be able to handle his size, even though they were way too long for his body. Mason’s T-shirt reached down almost to Bryce’s knees, and the pants were tight and long on him. Even then, he didn’t have more options, so he tried to look as good as possible and rushed out of the apartment. As soon as he closed the door behind him, Bryce heard and felt the ground beneath him shaking and the walls trembling like an earthquake. It happened really fast, so Bryce just continued walking.

On his way to his job, Bryce made a quick stop to fix a few things on his own body. He stopped by a construction site and found ten hunky construction workers who were pretty hot already but could definitely use some adjustments. Bryce knew he had to grow others to grow his own body, so he decided to make those hot construction workers look even better.

The shortest man was about 6’0”, and the tallest was easily 6’6”. Since Bryce’s short height was his main issue, he used his power to give each of these men four extra inches in height. Bryce thought their new height would be helpful in their job, but his motivation was only to get taller by growing others. Doing some quick math, he estimated he would gain 10 inches with what he had given the men at the construction site, which was good enough.

Using his powers to remove the men’s clothes, Bryce could observe their bodies and stats more carefully. Some of them had some measures that caught Bryce’s attention, so he decided to have fun with them. The second shortest, at 6’1”—soon to be 6’5”—had the most delicious-looking bubble butt Bryce had seen. It was so juicy and yet so firm that Bryce’s mouth watered while looking at that man’s ass, so he decided to give him an even bigger ass—about 10 pounds of muscle and fat—to make him look even better.

There was another man, very likely the youngest of them all, who had a 12-inch-long dick with a pretty decent girth. Bryce—a size king—gave this guy’s dick four more inches in length and a whole extra inch in girth. With a dick that big, Bryce thought the guy needed bigger balls, so he gave the guy some seriously-big balls, growing them to approximately soccer-ball-sized.

Another one’s chest caught Bryce’s attention because it looked round and full. The man’s upper body reminded Bryce of Chris Evans’ Captain America, giving him some ideas. He added 20 pounds of muscle and a little bit of fat to the man’s pecs to get them really big and juicy at the same time. He also altered the man’s nipples to get them larger and pointier. Bryce was having lots of fun, but he remembered he had to get to his office to see his friends.

Before leaving the construction site, Bryce added 2 inches to the rest of the men’s dicks, leaving most of them, except for the youngest-looking one, with 8 or 10 inches of dick and giving Bryce’s dick, by his own calculations, about 5.5 inches in length. His motivation was only to grow his own body by growing these men. When he had set all the changes for them, Bryce made a mental note to stop by the construction site the next day to see how they were doing. At that moment, he was more excited about his coworkers than looking at random people on the street.

Sadly, a few minutes later, Bryce arrived at his office and was informed that all his coworkers had called in sick, so the department had been closed at least for the day. The company wanted to inspect and clean the entire department because it was weird that most of the employees, the new supervisor included, had reported experiencing allergic reactions. Bryce contained his laughter while the man informed him that his friends and their boss were sick because he knew what was happening.

Bryce was sad because he wanted to see his friends’ new bodies. He also wanted to mess with their boss’ size again, but he understood that he had changed them too much for them not to get scared. Anyone would freak out and get worried, just like Mason did every morning because the changes were too abrupt. The difference was that Mason clearly enjoyed the changes, and his horny thoughts surpassed his fears or shock.

Bryce had to give a blood sample to a medical team to check if the thing affecting his coworkers had also affected him. Then, they sent him home, and Bryce didn’t hesitate because he had someone very likely waiting for him at the apartment. The memory of Mason’s huge body lying in bed, fully naked, made Bryce’s dick chub up. He still felt strange to feel so attracted to Mason’s body, but he couldn’t deny the big guy had him hooked. His revenge plan against Mason had changed directions, and all Bryce wanted was to get Mason even bigger and enjoy having such a stud so close to him.

When Bryce arrived at the apartment, as soon as he opened the door, he heard Mason moaning loudly, and a bumping sound echoed through the apartment. Bryce immediately remembered his dream where the apartment exploded. However, the sensation was different; the bumping sound wasn’t as loud, and a strange salty smell made it feel very different.

Bryce had left only an hour before, so he knew Mason wasn’t waiting for him, so he tried to be quiet. He approached Mason’s door very slowly but stopped when he noticed something coming out beneath the door. The substance was almost liquid but pretty thick, and the salty smell intensified. Bryce kneeled down and touched the sticky white substance, finally recognizing the texture, the smell, and… the taste.

“This can’t be. I left just an hour ago,” Bryce said, taking some of the creamy substance to his mouth to taste it again. “Damn, why is it so delicious?” Bryce added and chuckled.

Bryce slowly opened the door, and the salty smell hit his nose like a wall. Bryce’s mouth fell to the ground when he saw a pool of white substance covering the entire floor of Mason’s room and some more coating the walls and the ceiling. It looked like the morning after a heavy snowfall, but the room wasn’t cold. The room felt hot instead, and the massive person lying on his back in the middle was the hottest part.

Mason’s body was covered with his own cum, making him look even bigger than he was. He was still on his mattress, rubbing his massive dick, while a strong stream of cum came out of his dick slit. Bryce could see Mason’s balls churning while producing even more cum. Bryce took his shoes off and started walking toward Mason. The big guy was high on pleasure, so he didn’t notice Bryce arriving, but when he did, a broad and goofy smile spread on his face.

“What are you doing here? You should be at work,” Mason said, heavily panting while the stream of cum weakened and his dick slightly deflated. “And… is that my T-shirt?”

“Oh, yeah, this is your T-shirt, and I think it fits me better than it would fit you,” joked Bryce, making Mason laugh. “And we had some issues at work, and they gave me the day off, but... you did all of this in just an hour?” Bryce said, standing right next to Mason’s bed.

“You said I could jerk off, and I did. This one was only round two, but I can’t stop; my balls seem to go crazy every time I think of you,” Mason said, caressing his half-hard dick. “My shirt looks good on you, by the way,” Mason added, making Bryce blush.

“Thanks. Well, you look good, all covered with your own cum. Pretty hot,” Bryce replied.

They looked into each other’s eyes for a few seconds, and suddenly, Mason pulled Bryce by the arm to get him closer. Mason placed Bryce on top of his strong cum-covered torso and pulled Bryce’s head into a long and passionate kiss. Bryce was initially hesitant about the kiss but then embraced Mason’s expression of love, and they started making out. Bryce loved how Mason’s cum-covered lips felt and tasted against his. And after so much denial, he finally accepted that he desired Mason and wanted him with even bigger muscles.

...

[gooch-cancer]

Steven Meeks x (GN!) Piano Player! Reader

In which: You are a church pianist for the Welton church whose gentle melodies caught the attention of Steven Meeks

A/N: AGGHHHHH IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO WRITE THIS I HAVE BEEN SO BUSY. I'm so exhausted but I love this story so I've been writing during any piece of free time I have. I love being in control of when yall kiss muehehehe. dw i'll probably cap it at around 9-10 bc I also have school coming up and i'm taking so many aps this year. In this chapter it's just some good ol yearning! prev chapter here:

Chapter 3:

That Friday morning Meeks was an anxious mess, as pure usual. If it couldn't get any worse they had to orally present their poetry to the class. He felt sweat run down the back of his neck as he looked out amongst his peers. He felt their eyes on him, staring, mocking. He looked over at Todd who often felt the same as he did, Todd just gently nodded. He glanced over at Mr.Keating who just gestured him to continue.

He cleared his throat, almost a death grip on his paper as he read out the poem. His poem to you,

"When I am kissed by you

It's like life grows around us

Giving us both breath and light

The plants grow

It's natural amenities preserve us

Our bodies will never rot"

By the end he was shaking, he looked out at his classmates, a lot of them were giggling at the thought of Meeks having a crush. Mr.Keating raised his eyebrows, "Interesting..." he slowly walked toward Meeks. He turned his body back to the class, "Does anyone want to guess at what Mr.Meeks's poem is about?" One of the boys raised his hand, he was large a football build with a buzzcut, he snickered before answering, "So like basically you guys made out till you died?" Keating nodded, "Yes I suppose that's a rather simplistic way to look at it,"

As Keating spoke Steven couldn't even pay attention. He was so embarrassed he just stared at a spot of the wall his face pink until he heard Mr.Keating telling him to sit down. He sat down and took a breath, he heard a whisper and turned around to see Pitts giving him a thumbs up from across the room. He smiled but he still held his head in his hands while his classmates presented their poems.

At dinner that night Steven was mostly silent, picking at his food. His friends conversed around him. Pitts, who was sitting beside him, noticed the look on his friend's face and leaned forward looking at him with worry. "You doing alright Meeks?," he raised an eyebrow,concerned for his friend. Meeks sighed and shook his head, smushing the peas on his plate with his fork, "Wish I can say yes Pittsy,"

Pitts turned his body toward his friend, giving him his full attention, "Well what's the matter? If this is about english then-," Meeks cut him off, "No- no it's not that..." Pitts looked at him confused for a second before realization dawned on him, "Ohhhh," he replied his mouth in an 'O' shape, "You miss them don't you?" Steven nodded without looking up, still absentmindedly picking at his food. Pitts let out a low whistle and smiled, "Meeks got it bad don't he?" Steven glanced up at him, he wanted to lie and say it wasn't true but there was no denying the growing blush on his face.

The next day came, just this one more day until he could see you again, he thought. He lazed in his bed daydreaming of you, of holding you, of laughing with you, and which in the back of his mind he desired the most, kissing you. Charlie, Todd, and Neil wandered into his dorm, Pitts was nowhere to be seen, something about a chem test. Steven laid down on the bed staring up at the ceiling while the three boys looked down on him. "Meeks...," Charlie chuckled, "C'mon...," Steven turned his head and squinted at him, he didn't even bother to put his glasses on. Neil shrugged, "You gotta get up man," he smiled at Meeks, not like the teasing smile Charlie had. It was friendlier like he was trying to encourage him.

Todd remained silent but even in his facial expression it was apparent that he agreed. Meeks sat up in bed frustrated, "I can't stop thinking about them," he ran his fingers through his hair, "I- I feel nauseous," Charlie widened his eyes, his smile growing bigger, "Woah...Meeks got bit by the love bug, and we get to see it finally happen!" he exclaimed. Meeks glared at Charlie, "Shut up..." he muttered and fell back into his original position. It was by then that Neil was having none of it and he grabbed Steven by one of his legs, trying to pull him out of bed. Steven shouted in surprise and he began clawing at his bedsheets,desperate to hang on.

Unfortunately, this only gave Todd incentive to help as he grabbed Meeks's other leg and Charlie his torso. Eventually Steven was on the floor his blanket on him as he fell on his back, his face twisted in shock and horror. He looked at the three incredulous, "Wh- why would you-" Charlie cut him off, "Cmon don't make us pull you to your feet as well..." In response Steven quickly stood up and smoothed out his pajamas. Neil laughed, "We're having a meeting tonight in the cave, that is if you're not too lovesick to join us,"

Steven grabbed his glasses and put them on before shaking his head, "No of course I'm able to," Neil nodded approvingly, "Good we're leaving at 9, now go get ready, you can't just be looking like that all day," He gestured to Meeks plaid pajama set earning a snicker from Charlie. Steven nodded and waved his hand, "Ok ok now get out," He ushered them out of his dorm room and slammed the door behind them. He stood in the middle of his room holding his head as he plotted his next move, he missed you so much it was sickening.

Later that night, Meeks was there with the others flashlights in hand as they trekked through the forest. He mindlessly followed his friends to their meeting spot, dazed. The night was bitter and he could hear the leaves crunch under his feet as he walked. His mind went back to you, how beautiful your hair was, the way you laughed. He absentmindedly smiled at the thought, his face heating up despite the frosty atmosphere. "Meeks!," he heard someone hiss, he turned toward the noise. The boys were now outside their cave and Pitts was gesturing him to come on.

He nodded and followed them in, sitting in their respective spots. Neil stood up and cleared his throat, "Welcome to The Dead Poets Society," he opened his book and began to read the excerpt he always started the meetings with. Steven stared at Neil whilst he spoke, he soon came to the realization that Neil always had quite the flair for the dramatic. It was impressive to him, the confidence and how suave he was. He would be so perfect for theater, and then his thoughts back to the conversation he had with you.

There really was no arts department at Welton. Not even a simple drawing class. It disappointed him when he thought about it because what would he be like if he had access to such things? Would he be any good? He sighed and frowned, the thought began to get to him as he daydreamed what could've been. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Charlie, "Hey..." Charlie smiled at him, "Put your jacket down for the picnic," He gestured to the ground, and Meeks shook his head, taking it off anyway. "Wh-what why does he have to be mine?" he complained as he put it on the ground.

Charlie shrugged, "You were sitting the nearest to me," When the jacket was smooth on the ground the boys began to contribute their offerings. Various pieces of stolen dining hall fruit, cookies, and a singular Milky Way all thrown onto his jacket. He stared down at it and groaned, "I'm gonna have crumbs for days," he looked over at Charlie, "If I get ants because of you..." Charlie shook his head, "Relax!" he chuckled,"It's all in good fun, it's your turn to read anyway," Steven turned to his other side as Knox handed him the book. He flipped through the pages and found one that interested him, 'Love Philosophy' by Percy Bysshe Shelley.

As he read it out, his mind again jumped to you. He gradually got louder and louder until he shouted the final line, jumping up from his seat ,and throwing his arms out, "IF THOU KISS NOT ME?" only to be met by cheers and whoops and hollers. He panted, his heart beating with passion as he handed the book to Charlie still standing. He ran his fingers through hair and swallowed before sitting back down. His heart rate slowly decreasing. When he shouted that final line he felt a weight lift off of his shoulders. His mind unclouded as an idea began to form, he looked around the cave as Charlie read out his part eager to share the idea and to get some opinions on it.

As Charlie finished out Steven took the opportunity, blurting out the idea he'd been keeping,"What if I gave them that poem I wrote for english class?"