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lonelym00n · 11 months

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The Road to Recovery

An epilogue for The Devil Likes the Pirate Series

Tara Carpenter x Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Is it worth the effort to repair your relationships, or should you just let your friends go?

Warnings: Talk about injuries, nothing super gory

A/N: The epilogue is here (finally)! I hope it wraps up the series nicely. Thank you all so much for reading <3

The road to recovery, as it’s often said to be, is going to be a long one. You are confined to your hospital bed for a minimum of two weeks, set to undergo observation and a multitude of x-rays until your body has recovered enough for a laparoscopy to ensure that your wounded organs have properly healed.

You internally groan when the nurse informs you of your long stay. The next two weeks are going to be extremely boring, especially because you've been instructed not to move unless you’re being visited by your physical therapist or it is absolutely necessary to do so.

If it’s not bad enough that you can’t move, as with every other hospital, your only form of entertainment is watching the crappy TV shows provided by the hospital’s very limited cable subscription.

As much as you want to grumble and complain, all the effort that it’s going to take for you to heal is worth it because it means that you’re still alive. If your traumatic near death experience has taught you anything, it’s that you have to be thankful for life and its hardships even when you are desperately wishing for things to be easier.

In an effort to uplift your mood, you switch on the TV, dig into a cup of jello, and carefully shift into a comfortable position.

***

The two cups of jello that you ate must’ve had the same effects on you as a Thanksgiving feast, because your eyes droop shut during the second episode of Property Brothers.

It’s darker when you awake, and after blinking away the sleep in your eyes, you notice that you have a visitor.

“Kirby?”

The FBI Agent turns her head in your direction with a grin, “Hey kid!”

You both take a second to scan the other’s injuries. There’s an array of bandages on her face and you can just barely make out the thick gauze hiding underneath her loose shirt.

Kirby’s lips curve into a frown at your pale and weak form, “He really did a number on you huh?”

You nod, “But the doctors say I’ll be okay.”

She shuffles over to stand right beside your bed, “I’m glad.”

There’s so much you want to say to Kirby that it takes a good few moments to gather your thoughts together. Ever since Tara told you that Kirby had survived, you haven’t stopped thinking about how grateful you are for the older woman. She trusted you when no one else did.

“Kirby, I- I really can’t even begin to say how much I appreciate you having my back. I don’t think I would be here if it weren’t for you.”

She shakes her head, “I only did what was right, no need to thank me.”

Tears prick your eyes, “But I do need to thank you. You didn’t even know me but you were still there for me. None of my friends can say the same.”

Kirby sighs and gently grabs your hand. “I’m sorry. Have you talked to any of them about it yet?”

A shakily exhale leaves your chest. Though you’d seen Tara a few times, the two of you still hadn’t talked things through. You were terrified that it would break the honeymoon phase you and she were living in if you approached the topic, so you refused to bring it up. You knew from Tara that Mindy had been released from the hospital, but the Meeks-Martin girl had still made no effort to come see you. You tried your best not to hold it against her, but deep down it made you even more sad to know she was avoiding you all together.

A few tears trail down your cheeks, “No. Mindy’s treating me like I’m the plague and I’m too scared to talk to Tara about it.”

The agent squeezes your hand in an attempt to bring you comfort. “Mindy will come around, to be honest I’m betting that she just feels really bad. And Tara, well, I’ve heard the way that girl talks about you. It’ll make both of you feel better to talk things through and get that extra weight off your chests.”

“You’re right,” your heart feels heavy in your chest. You’ve been doing your best to avoid thinking about your time spent treated like a suspect, the hurt that it brings you is too overwhelming when coupled with the burning stab wounds littered around your abdomen. But now that it’s been breached, you know your feelings are going to come flying out like the contents of Pandora’s Box.

“God Kirby, it just hurts so much to think that no one even gave me a chance. There was nothing I could say or do. How am I ever supposed to trust them again when they so clearly didn’t trust me?”

A deep frown stretches across Kirby’s face and she moves to carefully wrap her arms around your shoulders in a hug. “You don’t have to trust them. You don’t owe any of them a single thing.” She pulls back to get a better view of your face, “But, I know you still care about your friends even though they hurt you. Just talk to them, and after that, make them earn your trust back. Your relationships are damaged but with time, they’ll heal.”

“Okay,” you nod and lean back in the bed. “That sounds good, thank you Kirby.”

“Anytime. I’m here for you from here on out kid.”

***

Tara comes by two days later, with yet another bouquet of flowers. She’s accompanied by Sam, the older girl refusing to let Tara leave her side.

Under normal circumstances Tara would throw a fit but since they had almost died just last week, she lets her sister’s behavior slide.

The younger girl greets you with a kiss on the forehead and moves to replace the old flowers with the new ones. Sam offers you a smile and a wave before making her way towards the empty bed next to your own.

You scooch yourself over to make room for Tara on the bed with you. Your abdomen screams at you for the small movements, but feeling Tara’s warmth next to you will more than make up for it.

When she’s finished with the flowers, she slides into your bed. Her hands instantly start sweeping across your form, a new habit she picked up to reassure herself that you were still alive and breathing. You melt into the contact, occasionally humming in content.

You let yourself enjoy the peace for a moment. It’s nice being cared for by Tara, letting her fiddle with your blankets and your hair as she quietly fusses over you.

But as much as you want to continue living in this heaven with her, the gnaw of leftover hurt and dejection in your chest has grown incessant since your talk with Kirby. You’ve been avoiding rehashing the nightmarish events with Tara because you’re terrified to lose her again, like you have every other time the two of you have had emotional talks.

Hesitantly, you grab one of her hands to stop its movement and draw her attention to you. Those big brown eyes of hers immediately look up at you, her long eyelashes fluttering slightly. The sight of her has you nervous and bumbling. Whatever you were going to say to approach the topic is stuck in your throat in favor of admiring her.

She tilts her head cutely and entangles the fingers of her trapped hand in yours. “Is everything okay?”

You close your eyes for a second and take a deep breath. When you reopen them, Tara’s eyes are filled with concern.

You swallow thickly, “We um,” you pause briefly, working up the courage, “We need to talk Tara.”

She freezes for a second but quickly finds herself again, “Okay. Yeah, yeah we can talk.”

Sam slides out of her place on the other bed swiftly. She squeezes Tara's uninjured shoulder as she passes by, “I’ll be just outside if you need me.”

The younger Carpenter nods to her sister in thanks. Sam sees the apprehension in Tara’s eyes and offers the girl a small reassuring smile.

The tension in the room increases when the door closes behind Sam. You and Tara blink at each other for a few long seconds.

You shift your gaze to your waist and pick at the thin scratchy blanket. When you start worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, Tara reaches up with her free hand to cup your check.

“Hey, it’s okay, you can talk to me.”

You look up to meet her eyes and see nothing but care and reassurance. It gives you the push you need to open up to her. “Well, I wanted to talk about everything from last week, and uh, how it made me feel.”

Her eyes widen a bit but she nods quickly, “Okay. I’m listening, go ahead.”

“When I saw you in the police station, god I felt so betrayed Tara. I know that since I was the only one who hadn’t stayed over it made me look bad, but no one even gave me a chance to explain myself. I get why you might’ve given them my name, but it still hurt to know it was you because it meant that you didn’t trust me enough to talk to me yourself.”

Her eyes shine with unshed tears and she slowly trails her thumb down your cheek, “I’m so sorry, about that and about everything. Me and Sam were just so scared and shaken up, and Detective Bailey was asking for everyone’s alibis, and Sam mentioned that you hadn’t stayed over. I tried to tell her not to, but she had to tell him. He was the one who decided to bring you in for questioning, not either of us. I know that doesn’t make anything better, but maybe it helps you to know.”

It did make you feel slightly better. It’s not like she threw him your name and told him to question you. “It does help. When I got to the park, I just felt so judged and alone, like I was some sort of outsider. And then Mindy said all that stuff and it just broke me. It upset me so much that she called me out like that and turned everything I told her in private into a stupid motive.”

The memory of Mindy’s words is particularly painful for you to relive. You’d never felt so exposed and let down. Quietly, a few tears begin to slip down your face.

Tara’s bottom lip trembles with the effort it takes to hold back her own tears, “I hate that we made you feel like that. We’re your friends and that’s never how you should feel around us. And Mindy, god, I was so mad at her for what she said to you. I tried to chase after you when you left but Sam wouldn’t let me.”

The timid look that you give her nearly breaks her heart. “You did?”

A tear escapes her eyes, “Yeah. I didn’t want you to be alone, not when you looked so upset.”

“I was so scared that you were going to hate me, or reject me, and that you thought I was the killer. I had to get away.”

“I could never hate you. And I wouldn’t have rejected you, I really really like you. When I told you I only wanted to be friends, it’s because everything that happened with Amber hurt me so much. I was scared that I could get hurt again, so I pushed my feelings away. And that pushed you away, and I’m so fucking sorry. All the Ghostface stuff happened so fast, and I never got a chance to apologize or to explain myself.”

You’re both crying now. You tug Tara closer to you and she positions herself so her head lays on your shoulder, moving carefully so as not to jostle you or lay on top of any wires.

She looks up at you from her position, “I didn’t think it was you, Y/N. I was just trying to be cautious about trusting anyone. The only person I was sure it wasn’t was Sam. When Wayne had you, I hesitated because of everything Ethan and Quinn were saying. And I was so, so scared that all the Amber stuff was happening again, but I believed what you said. You’re nothing like Amber, you wouldn’t have done something like that. I’m sorry it took me that long to be sure of it.”

You wrap your free arm around her waist and bury your teary face in her hair. You feel infinitely lighter having gotten your feelings out into the open. Part of you has healed from hearing things from her perspective.

“It makes me feel so much better knowing all of that, thank you Tara.”

“Of course, I’m sorry about how I made you feel.” She looks down at your wrapped abdomen, “And I hate that you got so hurt because of me.”

You tighten your grip on her, “It’s okay.” Then, a bit playfully you add, “And don’t blame yourself, it wasn’t you who stabbed me 17 different times.”

She lifts her head and slaps your shoulder lightly, gasping. “Stop that you know what I mean.”

You laugh heartily and Tara swears she could stay here with you forever. She traces her eyes along your features and finds herself in awe of your soft beauty, as she is everytime she looks at you.

Her hand reaches up to cup your chin and her fingers splay out across your jaw. You’re utterly lovestruck as you stare into her pretty eyes.

She leans forward and gently captures your lips with hers, sighing softly into the kiss. When she pulls back, she smiles sweetly up at you.

“I feel the same way, you know. I really love you too.”

***

Tara, and by extension Sam, visit you practically everyday after that. The younger sister brings her laptop with her so that you three actually have a good selection of movies to watch.

One night after Tara fell asleep, tucked into your side, Sam offered you an apology too. You forgave her immediately, though she hadn’t really done anything other than be her usual protective self, you appreciate the sentiment all the same.

It’s a quiet day when Mindy finally walks into your room. Sam had to sort out some work stuff, so the two sisters would be heading over a bit later.

“Hey,” she offers shyly.

“Hi Mindy.”

“Is it okay if I come in and sit?”

“Of course yeah, sit anywhere you like.”

Seeing her here is shocking, but not unwelcome. Tara had informed you that she was trying to convince Mindy to come visit you so that she and you could talk. According to Tara, the short-haired girl was entirely sure that you hated her and would never want to speak to her again.

Mindy shifts around a little and her leg hasn’t stopped bouncing since she’s sat down.

Deciding to reprieve her from her fidgeting, you give her a small smile. “I don’t hate you Mindy.”

Her eyes are wide and they snap up to meet yours, “You don’t?”

“I don’t.”

She breathes out a sigh of relief, but still looks a little apprehensive. “I’m surprised you don’t. I would hate me if I were you.

You had thought long and hard about how you felt about Mindy, and while you were deeply hurt by her words, you could never bring yourself to hate her. You considered her your best friend for a brief moment in time and she was the only person that was there to comfort and support you when you were wallowing in your feelings for Tara.

“I thought about hating you, but I really care about you, Mins. I know that you feel some pressure to follow in your uncle’s footsteps. I just wish that you listened to me, and that you didn’t go so deep on the motive stuff.”

She cringes at the reminder, “I feel, so so stupid about that.” Her hands come up to cover her face for a moment as she groans. “I’m sorry, it was extremely shitty of me.”

“It was pretty shitty of you,” you chuckle, “but it’s okay. I’d probably be more mad if things didn’t end up working out between me and Tara.”

She smiles, “I’m happy for you both.” Her face turns more serious and she leans forward to softly place her hand on your thigh. “Genuinely though, I feel terrible. I was just so sure it was you and I guess it kind of scared me. I’m sorry, I know that’s no excuse. Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

You ponder it for a minute. Bingo. Your face twists into a smirk, “I have an idea.”

***

It’s a few hours later when Sam and Tara arrive. They’re wrapped up in a conversation as they enter, so they don’t notice the current state of your room.

Sam notices first, “What the-”

“Surprise!” you cheer.

Your hospital room has been completely rearranged. The two beds have been pushed together to form a makeshift couch, and the chairs are positioned beside each bed. Fairy lights have been strung around the room and a white sheet hangs across from the sitting area, placed perfectly in the center.

You, Mindy, and Chad (who’d been wheeled in by his sister) grin at the dumbfounded Carpenter sisters.

Sam, ever the mom of the group, raises a singular eyebrow, “What did you three do?”

Your smile stretches even wider. “We’re recreating movie night! Hope you Carpenters don’t mind not hosting for once.”

Sam rolls her eyes good naturedly at your comment.

Tara walks over and hops up on the bed next to you. You greet her with a kiss to her cheek and she beams at you, pleased. “Baby this is such a nice surprise. But how’d you manage to put all this together?”

You share a secret little glance with Mindy, “I called in a favor from a friend.”

After a good few minutes of cheerful banter, the group settles in to watch the movie. You and Tara are pressed so close together that she’s practically sitting on your lap.

After a week full of misery, things finally feel right. Your wounds are steadily repairing themselves and your relationships have been mended. Slowly but surely, you are healing.

Tara, the girl who started it all, who stole your heart away with her teasing smiles alone, leans over to whisper in your ear, “When you’re finally out of this hospital, I’m taking you on a date. Just me and you.”

Your eyes shine with the same love that you see reflected in hers. “I’d love nothing more.”

“It’s a date.” She kisses you chastly and quickly pulls back. Her hand reaches towards your face and when she boops your nose softly, you know you’ll be in love with Tara Carpenter for the rest of your life.

Taglist: @thenextdawn @dreifhraniquo29 @fanboy7794 @thelonewriter247 @cartierdreamx @btay3115 @friedryes @bananasplits-world @alexkolax @ordelixx @adaydreamaway08 @youralphawolf72

Note: The last installment for the series will be the alternate ending, which I hope to have finished by the end of this week. I won't be including the series taglist, so leave a comment or send in an ask if you want to be tagged in the alternate ending! Thanks for reading, the angst awaits!

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter #devil likes the pirate series #lonelym00n fic

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wildemaven · 10 months

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Sweet Creature: Chapter Seven

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader (Nicknamed Poppy)

WC: 6600

Warning: 18+ Blog/Minors will be blocked; Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

A/N: We’ll, there’s a lot here. This week was draining with a teething/no sleeping babe— but I was determined to get this finished! I don’t have a lot to say, but I’m excited for this part of their story! Thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey again for her support and proofreading every week! And thank you to everyone who has continued to stick with these two dumb dumbs as they figure their shit out. Love you all!!

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

Previous/ Next

Breathe.

In.

Out.

Dieter wills himself to regulate the adrenaline surging through him, it has his muscles tingling as its increasing levels spread through every pliable fiber.

Breathe.

In.

Out.

He takes in his surroundings, a steady attempt at grounding his mind, assuring him, keeping him present, giving him a chance to regain his composure.

He Sees…

The ornate tile that dresses the front steps to your Spanish Revival home, the perfect backdrop to the ‘welcome’ mat that greets him the minute he arrives to your place.

The sturdy wooden door attached to your home that keeps you protected, allowing you to live comfortably and securely without a bother from the outside world.

The well maintained landscape, no real knowledge of the specific varieties of plants that decorate the front, he senses a low maintenance and drought tolerant feel— a few things he had never heard of until moving in with Diem.

The way the sky begins to shift from its golden orange and purple hues to an even shade of deep blue as the sun tucks behind the horizon line, welcoming the stillness of the night.

The way he is actively replaying an episodic memory of you from just an hour ago when you had joined him at Diem’s house to read over his lines for his upcoming movie role.

“Are you sure you even want me doing this? I don’t know a single thing about acting. Can’t Diem help?? I don’t want to mess you up.”

It’s been a few days since the Capri re-grand opening. And a few days since yours and Dieter’s almost kiss.

There hasn’t really been a discussion on what had happened, or almost happened, only due to the fact that you hadn’t seen each other since Dieter had to leave to take Wren home.

Now you find yourselves sitting in Diem’s living room, on opposite ends of her sectional couch, ignoring the residual heat that is currently reigniting as you both look over the scripts you’re each holding— alone together, zero distractions.

“This scene is between two people who are navigating a new relationship, dancing around the sexual tension between them—“

The coincidence not lost on you.

“So, there’s no fuckin’ way I’d read through this with my sister. And I doubt she’d want to anyways, she hates this kinda shit, so I don’t even bother.“

“Okay, I’ll try my best, but if I fuck up—“

“You’re not gonna fuck up. I highlighted your lines in pink, just focus on those and you’ll do fine. Besides, you’re a teacher— you read stories for a living, just think of it like you’re reading to your class.”

“Dieter, it says right here at the bottom of the page in bold type, ‘HER EYES CLOSE AT HIS TOUCH FOLLOWED BY LOW SENSUAL MOANS’— there’s no fucking way I can imagine myself reading this to my class.”

You look up from the paper, his eyes already on you. You note the way his neck muscles flex as he swallows, the grip on his paper a little tighter— you’re not sure how you’re going to survive this.

He touches…

The weight of his chip, the brass cool against his warm clammy skin, pulling it from his pocket, it sits heavy in his palm— a quick reminder that who he was doesn’t define him now. A few light tosses, before gripping it with his thumb and his forefinger, one last look before returning it to his pocket.

The compact device that connects him to everything important to him in a single touch, his finger navigating back and forth between the home screen image of Wren and him eating donuts then to the text you had sent not long after leaving Diem’s house — Poppy💐- I have that easel ready, if you still want it. You’re more than welcome to come grab it — Then double checking the numbers on the house match the ones that you sent after he text back asking if he could come over tonight— a perfect match.

The silky strands of his ruffled dark brown hair as he tries to tame his wild curls, the cottony fabric of his gray weathered shirt pulling at it in such a way so it drapes over him just right, the rough texture of his faded jeans against his sweaty hands as he rubs them several times over where they hug his thighs— a blind once over of his appearance.

The way his hand skims over the velvety skin above your knee, the hem of your dress delicately dancing over his fingertips, the faint scar that now lives on the side of your thigh from a biking accident as a kid lays uneven under his gentle graze.

“Is this okay?”

Somewhere between shared lines, and fiery dialogue, Dieter finds himself sitting closer to you, his knee brushing against yours—hand so effortlessly placed on your thigh as he checks in with your comfort.

“Y-yeah— it says ‘HIS HAND REACHES THE APEX BETWEEN HER THIGHS’, so she would know that his hand is moving up her leg—.” Your voice trembles as you try to concentrate on the words printed in bold on the current page.

Looking up, you see Dieter’s focus solely on you, his folded script tucked between his leg and the couch cushion.

“That’s not what I asked.” There's a deep husk to his voice, his movements halted as he draws your attention away from the pages and up to him. “Are you comfortable with this, not what the paper reads or act is telling us to do. Is this okay with you?” Your consent, regardless of what the characters are doing, his number one priority.

“Y-yeah…” You murmur as you look down to where his hand is still subtly holding your leg. Your attention drawn back to his handsome face, placing your hand on top of his, encouraging him to continue his efforts.

He hears…

The symphonic resonance of the nightfall harmonics drifts through in the crisp evening air, a modest breeze carries the lilt of the chirping crickets throughout the stilled neighborhood, the rustling of the leaves scattered and swirling across the sidewalk, the faint cries of coyote pups awaiting the arrival of their mother who’s been in search of a hearty meal.

The way his heart beat reverberates against his eardrums, the thudding of his heart an emotive chorus, its pace evening out with each grounding thought.

The way your breath catches, its auditory staccato floats through the air and nestles somewhere deep within his mind, storing its melodic rhythm away as an echoic file, never wanting to forget how it sounds.

Dieter shifts himself forward, the crunch of the leather puckering as he settles a knee on the cushion, a hand gripping the back of the couch as he angles himself closer.

The crackle of paper startles you, Dieter grabbing the crumbled heap of papers and tossing it over his shoulder, removing any distractions that might be bothering.

Bit by bit you allow yourself to fall back onto the mound of decorative pillows in the corner of the couch. Dieter following your lead, keeping a close distance between you as he settled himself between your legs.

“When is Diem going to be home?” You breathed, a warmth spreads through your body as you fixate on the fact that this is really happening.

“Don’t know, at least an hour.”

A few loose curls fall into Dieter’s face, you lightly comb them back, the movements unhurried and attentive. Your fingers catching the frames of his glasses in the process, you gingerly remove them from his face, carefully tossing them to the side— producing your favorite lopsided grin from him.

Dieter pauses to study every little detail of this moment— the flash of want in your eyes, the way your fingertips skim over and around his taut biceps, the deliberate way the tip of your tongue wets your bottom lip before it’s drawn in between your teeth, the way your lungs continue to fill with the air you’re both sharing— he’s never felt more alive than in this moment.

He smells…

The night brings a refreshing scent of calmer air, the aromatic warmth of the citrus groves meld with the fragrant lavender farms that accumulates throughout the day, the herbal aroma that triggers a distinct nostalgic smell of his childhood.

The way your perfume mixes with your natural pheromones, the unmistakable notes of musky vanilla and orange blossom paired with your own unique scent stimulates his olfactory nerves, his spine tingling with pleasure as he breathes you in.

Dieter takes his time, deliberate in his own way, he wants to take his time— savor the moment.

He lowers himself down to the open space where your shoulder meets your neck— warm, delicate and inviting.

You angle your head, allowing him more space to move, your hands wrapping themselves around his neck, twisting his hair between your fingers.

Dieter places a soft tentative kiss to your shoulder, then slowly dragging the tip of his nose up the column of your neck, mindful of how responsive you are, nudging at your jaw before stopping.

“You’re so fucking soft.” His lips ghosting over your ear, voice honeyed and thick, his hand now situated on your bare hip, thumb toying with the seam of your underwear.

You nuzzle into the side of his head, his scent provocative in the way you crave it immensely. The smokiness of the sandalwood and cedarwood compliment the spicy musk and floral base— it’s Dieter, wild and delicious.

He tastes…

The ache for sustenance, a morsel of pleasure activates his taste buds, a palatable desire that he craves in hopes to fight off the hunger that plagues him.

A fieriness burns through your body, causing you to lose all ability to properly handle the way Dieter is making you feel— ravenous. You need more, something substantial that satiates the emptiness and the yearning.

The unfaltering look in his eyes, an unspoken feeling of infatuation that has you melting under his gaze.

Dieter leans in, gradually closing the gap between his lips and yours, sparking the immediate surge of oxytocin actively flowing through your veins.

His breath fanning across your lips, warm and minty, a brief remembrance of your almost kiss— several times over.

This position offers a new approach, angle of motion, feeling the fullness of his bottom lip catch your top lip, your fingers gripping tightly to his hair in anticipation as the weight of his lips begin to slot gently over yours.

*CLICK*

“Dieter? I’m home!” Diem announces her arrival.

Releasing the breath you were holding, grip loosened, warmth lifted— another moment gone.

“Fuck me!” Dieter grumbles, his forehead falling to your shoulder, your chest vibrating with a silent laugh.

Dieter places a kiss to your shoulder then pushes himself back from where he had been hovering over you seconds before, helping you to readjust the flowy fabric of your dress, a silent look to you asking “are you okay?”— you nod yes.

His body slumps back into the cushioned backrest, head falling back as he pinched the bridge of his nose, willing away his annoyance at Diem’s horrible timing.

“Oh! I didn’t realize you were here too, Poppy. I dropped Wren off for a playdate and picked up some dinner on the way home. You hungry?”

“Umm, no I’m good. Actually, I’m going to head out. I’ve got— there’s some things I need to do. So, yeah— I’m gonna go.”

You feel like two teenagers who were caught by the other’s parents. That awkwardness that looms over afterwards, not really knowing what to say or do.

You give his leg a light squeeze, pulling his attention back from his sulking, propping himself up with his arms on his knees, grabbing your hand and returning the faint gesture.

“I’ll text you later.” You mouthed to him before grabbing your items from the coffee table and making your way to the front door.

“You still on for this Friday?” Diem asks you as she’s unboxing the pizzas she had picked up, arranging a few slices nicely on plates.

“Yep— yeah! Friday is still good! See you later.” Your response short and to the point as you close the door behind you.

Dieter can hear the rustling of the wrappers and then a stillness hangs in the air. His back is to where Diem is standing in the kitchen, but he can feel her eyes boring into the back of his head.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you mention she was coming over? I would have grabbed more food, we could have all hung out together.”

“It was a last minute thing. I asked her to come read lines with me.”

Diem rounds the couch and places the food on the coffee table, before sitting and making herself comfortable.

“So… Did you finally kiss her?”

That gets a laugh from Dieter, face falling into his hands at the ridiculousness of Diem’s question.

“No, I haven’t kissed her.” Tilting his head towards where she’s sitting, chin resting against his clasped hands.

“Oh my god! You haven’t kissed her yet? What the hell, Dieter!”

“Trust me, it’s not for a lack of trying.” He assures her, picking at the toppings of his pizza slice that had fallen onto the plate.

“I don’t get it. If you’ve been trying, then what’s stopping you from actually doing it?”

“You are! Literally every chance I’ve taken, you stroll on in and fuckin’ cockblock me.”

“Wait— you’re blaming me for you not kissing her?” The shocked look on her face is priceless and equally hilarious.

“Yeah, I’m definitely blaming you. You have the worst timing ever!” He laughed, because even as annoyed as he is, the whole situation is a little funny.

*BUZZ*

The vibration of his phone cuts into their conversation, a text from you pops up on to the screen, he swipes it open.

Poppy 💐- I have that easel ready, if you still want it. You’re more than welcome to come grab it.

Uncle Dude - What’s your address? Be there in a few.

He wipes his greasy fingers with a napkin then tossing it onto his forgotten pizza. He stands to his full height, placing his phone in his pocket and makes his way to the door.

“Where are you going? I was going to turn on that one show we’ve been wanting to watch.”

“I’m— going out. Go ahead and start it without me.” He shouts as the door clicks closed behind him.

Uncle Dude - What’s your address? Be there in a few.

Poppy 💐- House number 402. White house on the left side of the street. See you soon!

The distance from your house to Diem’s is a short one, 3 minutes if you’re a fast Walker, 5-6 if you take your time.

Dieter was on his way— to your house.

You toss your phone onto the counter, and run to the bathroom. Not knowing how soon he was leaving after stating he’d be here in a few, didn’t leave you much time to freshen up.

You literally just saw him, so you kept it simple a few swipes of deodorant, clean away any mascara flakes and opting for a fresh coat of chapstick instead of lipstick— less is more approach.

2 minutes down.

Running through the house, you do a quick once over, grabbing any loose items, out of place items or kind of embarrassing items and tossing them into your hall closet— making sure to snag your copy of ‘My Pleasure: An Intimate Guide to Loving Your Body and Having Great Sex’ off of the coffee table.

4 minutes down.

Heading into the kitchen— Maybe he’ll want something to drink? You grab two tall glasses and fill them with ice, sitting on the counter waiting to fill with whatever Dieter wants.

5 minutes down.

Nervously, you stare at the front door, your nervous tick of picking at your fingernails keeps your hands busy. Should I turn some music on? Should I have put on a little more perfume? Maybe I should have brushed my teeth?

*Knock Knock Knock*

You grab for the door handle, pausing for a minute to take a deep breath, then cracking the door open to see Dieter standing on your front porch, hands in his pockets, casually looking down at his feet then up to you at the sound of the creaky door hinges— his face lights up instantly.

“Hey! Hope you found it okay?” You can’t help the dopey smile that grows on your face.

“No issues at all. Didn’t realize how close you lived this whole time.” He says, gesturing in the direction of Diem’s house.

“Yeah, almost neighbors.” Your smirk is laced in flirtation, your head leaning against the edge of the door in the most 90s rom-com way. “You wanna come in?”

“Sure.”

“Are you thirsty at all? I have sparkling and regular water, Diet Coke, and some beer— I haven’t made it to the store this week so I’m running low on things. I’ll be more prepared next time.” You ramble as you lead him into the kitchen, your nervous energy spiking just slightly.

“I’m good for right now, thank you. So, there will be a next time?” He asks, observing the way you bite at your lower lip when he mentions the prospect of a “next time”.

“Yeah,” You shrug your shoulders, noting the way the corner of his mouth quirks up and the light flutter in your stomach that follows. “I think so, if that’s what you want?”

“Yes, definitely want that.”

There’s a beat of silence, sans the sounds of home— the tick of the clock, the clinking of ice falling into the tray, a faint sound of music coming from another room.

“Oh! I—I have your jacket, I keep meaning to bring it over and then it would slip my mind…” Very much a lie, you were wearing it early this morning while you sipped your morning coffee, reading the latest chapter of ‘My Pleasure’… and you also might have worn it afterwards, when you needed a little— relief. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s totally fine. I mean, a little Birdie has been asking about it— it’s not a big deal.”

“Let me go grab it so I’m not tempted to hold it ransom for longer. Umm, help yourself to whatever. Then I can show you the easel, see if it’s something that will work for you.”

“Okay.”

Dieter takes in your home, it’s very much you.

Your love for plants extends inside, dozens of potted green plants, in varying shapes and sizes grace just your living room alone.

There’s a hint of a modern flare to your style, clean lines and lots of wood, a very neutral aesthetic— most of the color living as art work on your walls.

The art hanging throughout your home, he can only assume is your own. He’s drawn to the texture and the style of each painting— faint lines formed into human figures , landscapes resembling the world outside of these walls, and vivid abstract strokes of color adorn canvas everywhere he looks.

A soft glow catches his eye and like a moth to a flame, he’s lured to a dimly lit room— your art studio.

Large windows flank the walls, he imagines the natural light in the daytime is ideal in a space like this.

Tattered empty tubes of acrylic paint, evidence of being overly pinched to extricate every last bit of paint, strewn across a large table against the wall. Empty glass food jars repurposed as storage for your massive collection of paint brushes, while spatulas and other painting instruments lay haphazardly across the tabletop.

The table seems to double as a desk, once light colored, now coated in layers of colorful dried paint drips and spills. He runs his fingers over the surface, a balance of smooth and irregular textures, imagining the years you’ve spent standing over this table deliberately colors and mixing new ones.

Dieter thinks you must have been painting recently, a clear palette holds fresh dollops of paint in the center with a few experimental strokes on the side. He dips a finger into one of the little mounds, rubbing the emulsion between three fingers. It's cold and wet as it glides over his skin.

The wall of windows behind him he finds an easel, it too covered in coats of paint— a newer canvas sits in the support bar, a rough sketch of something just barely visible.

Next to where the easel rests, there are canvases stacked neatly against the wall along the floor. He analyzes each painting with regard, taking in each deliberate stroke and use of color— intently connecting with the emotions you’ve experienced in creating each piece.

He admires your tenacity. Through your long days of teaching at the school, little humans requiring so much of your attention for hours. To volunteering your time to help others explore their creativity at the gallery, planning and teaching weekly. And yet, you still find time to cater to your needs by doing something that makes your life more fulfilling, not allowing any roadblocks to deter your endeavors.

There’s an ache in his chest, a deep reminder of how different his life could have been had he not been bound by the shackles of Hollywood and the dark world that surrounds it.

Dieter had only ever dreamed of having such a space like this of his own, where he could chase a creative high and drown out the loud noises that followed him daily.

Stopping his thoughts before they begin to spiral, he thinks back to a motivational speaker he listened in on while in rehab. There were a lot of valuable words shared during the speech, but he remembers the line that really stood out to him— even through the darkest moments and afflictions that overpowered all his memories and people closest to him, it didn’t mean he is less worthy of a good life, a great life, moving forward.

Dieter realizes that with everything he’d lived through and how much hurt he had caused, he knows those things led him to this point in time— they led him to you.

“I ended up washing it, read the care instructions on the tag so I wouldn’t fuck it up. I found some melted Kit-Kats in the pockets and a few condom wrappers— this jacket has definitely seen some things…” You stop talking when you realize you’re met with an empty room, Dieter not where you had left him. “Dieter?”

There’s a slight movement that pulls your attention in the direction of your studio.

You find Dieter standing in the center of the room, the flicker from a burning candle emits a diffused light, washing his sharp features in a soft glow. There’s almost a pensiveness to his expression, hands tucked in his pockets lost in his thoughts, you watch him quietly take in the room around him.

“I see you helped yourself to a house tour.” You announce your presence as you enter the room, placing his jacket on the overstuffed chair in the corner then turning around to walk in the direction of your large art table, the skirt of your dress shifting from side to side as you walk.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep—“ He starts to apologize, realizing you both hadn’t set any boundaries with each other.

“It’s fine, I’m just messing with you. I hid all my incriminating things already.” You joke, but there’s something about him that makes you feel like you don’t have to be guarded.

“Are these for your showing?” He asks, pointing to the canvases he had just been studying.

“Yeah,” You say as you turn to face him, lean back against the table. “They’re all pretty much done— I’ll probably fine tune some things before the big day.”

“Can I ask what they represent?? I can see two figures— a man and a woman in some sort of intimate setting. I see the woman is fully fleshed out in color with distinct features, similar to your own— but the man looks like a shadowed figure, starting out blank, then slowly gaining color and personality in each painting— like an evolution of some sort. But what’s the narrative behind them?”

The way he’s analyzing your work, makes you feel even more captivated by him.

“I was having this dream— a nightmare maybe? For weeks, it would come to me every night, always starting out in the same way. I would feel him all around me— his hands, lips, everything. I would try to speak to him, but he would never respond, and I could never see his face, didn’t know who he was. Then he would vanish, like I had lost him and I would wake up in a panic. But as the weeks went on, it was like I could start to see him a little clearer…”

Dieter hangs on to your every word, he’s drawn in to your openness to share your thoughts so freely with him. He steps closer to where you’re standing, wanting to know more about these dreams.

“Go on.” He says softly, encouraging you to share more details.

“Some nights his face was a blur, but I could see his features, more clearly each night. And as his face became more visible over time, the dreams didn’t feel like I was losing him— it felt like I was gaining more of him. The last week or so, I can see his face— I know who he is.”

At some point in explaining the story behind your paintings, your eyes fell to the floor— the way he was watching you so intently felt overwhelming the closer he got.

“Who is he?” He asks, placing two fingers under your chin to slowly lift your gaze up to him.

“You.”

It’s a fierce softness in the way his mouth molds to yours, the gentle press of his lips is breathtaking— punching the air right from your lungs.

His touch is meticulous and thoughtful, resting his hands on your bare thighs, fingers lightly graze over your soft skin leaving a trail of tiny goosebumps.

Your hands snake up his body, settling back to where they were not so long ago— cupping the back of his head, slow drawn out scratches to his scalp.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs against your mouth.

“Y-yes— more than okay!” You breathe out— you’ve literally dreamt of this moment.

Experimentally you slowly swipe your tongue across his plump bottom lip, silently begging for a little more and he obliges, allowing you to slip your tongue into his mouth. An equal exchange of feelings and yearning as the kiss alternates between a tangle of tongues and sweet pecks.

Dieter pulls back, resting his forehead on yours, his breaths ragged puffs across your warm face.

“Why did you stop?” Your breath equally as ragged, chest heaving as you question his halted movements.

“Be-because—“ His throat dry as he tries to regulate his breathing. “If we don’t stop, things will get— more serious.”

“I-I’m failing to see the problem in that.” You tease.

“I don’t have any condoms— I didn’t think we’d get this far with our track record.”

“I locked the door, after I let you in— didn’t want to chance any interruptions.” His chest vibrates with a soft chuckle at your response. “I’m clean and on the pill— but only if you’re comfortable.”

“I am, clean I mean— I’m clean, plus haven’t been with anyone in, well, awhile now. Might be a little rusty in all actuality.” He confesses, his thumbs still moving in sweeping motions over the tops of your thighs. “You sure you want this?”

“Very, very sure.” You whisper against his lips, grabbing one of his hands and dragging it slowly up under your dress to the throbbing ache that has settled between your legs since he started kissing you.

“Fuck!” His eyes flutter shut at the sensation of your bare cunt, nearly choking on air— his fingers start to tentatively swipe through your wet folds, watching as your eyes start to roll back in pleasure.

“I thought I had felt some kind of underwear earlier?” He asks, as his fingers coated in your slick start to draw lazy circles over your sensitive clit.

“Ah!— I-I did. But I was so keyed up when I — left, I came home and had to— Oh! I had to— Fuck I can’t think straight when you’re doing that!”

“Did you come home and touch yourself?”

“Yessss— Oh god!” You whine breathlessly as two of his fingers enter your heated core, remnants of your earlier orgasm fully welcoming him.

“You’re so perfect.” He exclaimed,

his free hand cupping your face, keeping you close, his thumb lightly tracing across your lower lip.

His two fingers continue to move in and out of you, working up so effortlessly. He presses a long slow kiss to your lips, followed by a few short light ones.

You can feel yourself moving closer to the edge, there’s a tingle running down your spine, converging with the fire that’s beginning to break within you. Your velvety walls begin to flutter around Dieter’s fingers, prompting him to kiss you a little deeper and it’s just the push you need.

“Oh my god! I’m gonna come—“ Your body begins to shake, your hands slamming done on your table— paint splattering into the air.

It’s an inferno of ecstasy blazing through your body, you wrap your arms around Dieter’s waist, clinging to him as you ride it out— letting the embers cool down.

Without a single breath, you grab for the button on Dieter’s jeans as he tries to pull at the straps of your dress. It’s a jumbled mess of limbs, but finally working in tandem to rid each other of clothes.

Dieter crowds you against the table, the edge digging into your lower back causing you to yelp.

“Are you okay?” His eyes etched in concern, as he scans over your blissed out features.

“Ye-yeah! The ta-table is digging.” You say, pointing to show him.

He bends down to grab onto the back of your thighs. “Jump.” He says as he helps guide your naked body onto the table.

His hands rest on the table as he leans in to kiss you again, unhurried as he licks into your mouth as he guides your body to lay down on the table.

“You’re so beautiful like this, Poppy.” He says as he leaves a trail of kisses down your neck and over your chest, stopping and pressing his lips over the spot that he hopes to hold on to for a while— your heart.

The gesture has your eyes welling up, blinking rapidly to fight them off. You feel so completely overwhelmed by him, you have to actively stop yourself from telling him how in love you are with him.

He lifts himself off of you just enough to reach between the two of you, giving his cock a few hasty strokes before notching its weeping head at your entrance.

“Fuck!” He gasps as he slowly pushes his full length into your warm cunt— the slightest ghosting of your climax now pulsing around him.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in as close to you as possible, silently begging him to move, but he grips onto your leg to halt your movements.

“Wait— I need a minute otherwise this is going to be over before it even happens.” He says, resting his head on your sternum to give himself a moment.

“Dieter, it’s fine. Just take what you need— I’m— I’m good.” You feel more than satisfied with the two orgasms you’ve already had, you just want to feel him.

He slowly states to move his hips, several purposeful thrusts, wanting to savor the way you feel, the warmth already starting to bloom in his belly.

Dieter lifts himself off of you, sensing this new angle is pleasant based on how you start to arch your back off the table, his steady thrusts working you both up in a desired frenzy.

“Fuuuuck, you feel like a dream., Poppy.” His voice is hoarse, glancing down to watch the way your arousal coats him, his hands gripping your waist as he thrusting into with a little more earnestness.

“Dieter— I think I’m going to come again— oh god!!” You announced into the lust filled room, the tell-tale signs barreling through your body.

You try to grab onto something, hands looking for something to anchor yourself to, Dieter too far away and too lost in his own pursuit— each thrust is a little deeper producing your muscles to tighten on their own accord.

An unexpected swipe of Dieter’s thumb over your clit is blinding, sweet erotic sounds pouring from your mouth, hands slamming back onto the table, you're met with wetness, your brain registering where you are and that your hands are covered in paint.

The thick emulsion is cold when it hits your skin, your nipples pebble at the sensation of the paint gliding over them, your hands kneading the weight of your breasts— paint building up between your fingers with each calculated squeeze, each roll of your nipple sends you closer to your third orgasm.

You look up to see Dieter’s slack jawed expression, which only makes you emphasize your movements, giving him a little show. You’re arched back putting your chest on display, your hands working over your exposed skin covering your upper body in a rainbow of colors.

“Oh shit— shitshitshitshit— I’m gonna— fuck!” The sight of you sets Dieter off, folding himself over the top of you, face nestled into the crook of your neck as his thrusts begin to falter at the way your cunt begins to contract around him.

A gravelly moan against your damp skin and one final thrust, his hips still as he’s spilling into you.

The room is still again. The faint scent of your oud and sandalwood candle is overpowered by the sex hazed aroma. Chests moving against each other simultaneously, lungs begging to properly breathe, skin slipping with each pull of air— this might become your favorite way to create art.

A soft kiss to your shoulder as Dieter lifts himself up into his forearms, resting his temple against your jaw to give his arms a chance to regain their strength before giving you a softer kiss to your lips.

“That was—“ He’s still trying to regulate his breathing, words jumbled in his brain and not quite producing properly.

“Amazing!” You finish his sentence for him.

“Yeah— amazing.” He says, one more kiss because he doesn’t think he’s given you enough yet, then he’s slowly pulling out of you and helping you sit upright.

“What a mess we made of ourselves.” You laugh as you examine both of your colorful torsos.

“Worth it.” Dieter replied with a slight shrug and a quirky smile on his handsome face.

“I’m going to go grab some stuff to clean us up. I’ll be right back.”

Hopping off the table to head towards your bathroom, Dieter grabs you by the wrist, spinning you back towards him, your bodies flush against each once more as he gives you a toe curling kiss.

“Alright, hurry back.” He says, giving your backside a few taps.

You take a few minutes to freshen yourself up, wiping away as much of the paint as you can.

Throwing on a clean pair of underwear and a loose shirt, the hardwood cool against your bare feet, you make your way back to your studio where you’re met with an unexpected sight when you get to the door, Dieter sitting in front of your easel where your last canvas sits. His naked body wrapped in his fuzzy coat, his brow furrowed in concentration as his hand moves around the canvas with a paint drenched brush.

You take a moment to just watch him, leaning into the door frame, watching how he looks so relaxed and happy.

“You snoop and you help yourself to my painting, you sir are a menace.” You jokingly say to him, it earns you a generous laugh.

“Sorry, guess I’m two for two now. I saw you had it roughly sketched out and thought I’d paint you the way I see you.” He explained, leaning back into the small metal chair.

“And how do you see me?”

“Beautiful.” The word floats out and around you, its weight settling into that little space in your chest that has felt empty for so long.

“That’s two times you’ve painted me now— I think those would be grounds for someone to fall in love.” You tease, but there’s truth wrapped up in your statement. Pushing yourself off the doorframe, making your way over to where he’s sitting.

He places the brush in the glass of water, his hand reaching out for you to come closer, softly grabbing at your hips he’s pulling you down so you’re straddling his lap— fully aware he’s still naked and covered in paint under his jacket.

“Do you?” He has to know if you’re feeling the same way as him. “Do you, love me?”

“Yes.” Your voice a little wobbly, your emotions bubbling up in your chest.

But you do, you love him without a doubt and it’s the most terrifying and thrilling feeling you’ve experienced in a long time.

“I love you too, Poppy.” He whispers to you, his eyes glossy as he fights back tears.

“Why are you crying?” Wiping the single tear that has started to fall down his cheek.

“I’m scared— that I’m going to fuck this up. And you’re going to resent me. And I’ll be back to where I was a year ago— alone.”

Your heart nearly breaks at his confession.

“That’s not going to happen though.” Brushing his wild hair away from his eyes, caressing his face and hoping he hears the sincerity in your voice.

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t. But a wise man once told me— we’ll figure it out as we go.”

His arm wraps around your waist as his other hand cups the back of your neck, bringing your face to his, your nose bumping into his.

“I love you.” He breathes against your lips.

And before you even have a chance to reciprocate, he’s kissing you with so much love and feeling.

“Will you come? To see my showing on opening night?” You ask between feather-like kisses.

“I wouldn’t miss it, Poppy.”

It’s a few hours later when Dieter walks through the front door of Diem’s house, ready for a shower and sleep.

“You’re home late.” Diem’s voice sounds from the same spot on the couch he’d left her in.

“Uh, yeah. Lost track of time.”

“Were you at Poppy’s?” She asks with herround of motherly questioning.

“Yeah, I was. She had that easel, so I went to get it.”

“Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“The easel.”

“Oh, I— I must have forgot it. We were talking, lost track of time. I’ll grab it another time. I’m gonna take a shower then head to bed. Night.” Hoping to throw her off his scent, the last thing he wants is to hear her boast about what you and him were up to.

“Night. Oh hey, Dieter.”

“Yeah.” Turning back towards her.

“Make sure you wash that cute hand print on your neck.” Her devilish grin beaming at him.

He gives her a middle finger for good measure, then heads to the bathroom.

#sweet creature series #dieter bravo x fem!reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo #pedro pascal #dieter x poppy #wildemaven writes

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fanfic-lover-girl · 8 months

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Sorry but how was Aang “Barely Competent” in Firebending?

It Took Zuko until season 2 to get anywhere near Aang’s level and Aang’s been training for a month while Zuko’s been training for years. Love him or hate him, there’s no denying that it’s clear Aang is the better Firebender.

Zuko can only make 2 fire blasts at the same time. Aang? 3 without avatar state. Zuko took years to get more than smoke. Aang? Took a day.

Iroh admits Zuko was still at Basic Level in Firebending during The First episode. Zuko on Aang’s Firebending? Admits that redirecting Lightning was the last thing that he wants to teach. Considering Zuko’s and Aang’s battles, Iroh and Zuko were likely right about their respective pupils skills.

Hi anon. I regretted that reblog like 5mins after posting. Would you be happy if I just said you can believe what you want and call it a day??

Me neither I suppose. Sigh. I'll try to convey my thought process when I made that post. First, let me address your points.

how was Aang “Barely Competent” in Firebending

Aang trained with fire the least. Of course, with more time, Aang would master it but by the end of the show, Zuko is still better at firebending by virtue of time/experience.

Just to clarify, you are saying Aang at the end of the show is on par with season 2 Zuko? I don't think you can objectively say that. We don't see Aang using firebending seriously in a fight until the finale. And if I correctly recall the fight against Ozai, fire was not his main element. I think he used air and earth the most in that fight. It would have been cool to see fire being used more by him given the power boost of the comet though. And even if season 2 Zuko was on the same level as season 3 Aang, you need to consider that Aang was taught the true way of firebending from the get-go (well there was Jeong-Jeong of course but that was hardly serious training). Being a master is about how many times you failed and how much you learned from those failures. With Zuko's experience, he will always have an understanding of firebending that Aang will lack. My guy Zuko has failed A LOT.

Zuko took years to get more than smoke.

Huh?? Is this meant to be a joke?? Was this said in a comic?? If so, those are hardly canon to me.

Iroh admits Zuko was still at Basic Level in Firebending during The First episode.

Well, Zuko must have advanced quickly anon! With the basics, he was able to hold his own against Zhao (whom Iroh claimed to be a master) twice. He beat Zhao in the agni kai too. Zuko was able to keep up with Zhao in the Northern Water Tribe when Zuko was not at his best. Considering Katara almost murdered him and he still had injuries from his ship's explosion. Zuko is able to fight against Earth kingdom soldiers and fight the Rough Rhinos. Zuko has demonstrated numerous times that he is an above-average firebender.

And that was just season 1! Zuko has changed so much since season 1. Zuko was at the basics because Iroh was practically trying to reteach Zuko the fundamentals! Also, Zuko was gravely injured. I can only believe that Zuko had to relearn how to fight with limited vision and dealing with all that emotional turmoil.

Zuko on Aang’s Firebending? Admits that redirecting Lightning was the last thing that he wants to teach.

Once again, Zuko was on a limited time schedule. He was basically giving Aang a crash course. It's almost like a student learning the most important topic while they cram for the exam the next day. Even if Zuko had other things to teach Aang, redirecting lightning is way more important for Aang's survival. If Zuko was truly able to teach Aang everything in a few weeks, it paints firebending as an inferior bending style. Aang even admits in the finale that he needs more time to master firebending. He was planning to skip the comet because he was not ready. I don't believe in the opinion that students can't become better than their masters. But Aang was still learning by the end of season 3. Just being Aang's teacher gives Zuko an advantage in a fight.

Other small points:

Fire is not Aang's native element. Aang is always most comfortable with air. Aang does not dedicate the same effort Katara, Toph and Zuko do to their native elements. Aang was the better waterbender in season 1 (at least when it came to learning new techniques) but Katara was the one who self-taught herself those techniques. Even though as the avatar he should have been working harder than Katara to master waterbending, she overtakes him by a mile by the end of season 1. Aang and Katara were classmates. If anything Aang should be teaching Katara given he was able to start classes before her due to Pakku's sexism. She should not have to teach him anything. All this to say is that Zuko will have a greater passion for firebending compared to Aang. Zuko does not have to worry about other elements and Aang proves that raw talent is meaningless unless it is backed by dedication and hard work.

Firebending has a stronger symbolism for Zuko compared to Aang. Fire was a roadblock in Aang's avatar journey but firebending literally shaped Zuko's character and played a huge role in his redemption arc. A lot of his family issues revolve around Azula being a better firebender than him. When Zuko redeems himself, he has to relearn the meaning of firebending symbolizing the pivoting of his character. Learning the true meaning of fire is also important for him to lead the fire nation into a better future as the new firelord. Firebending has so much more thematic importance for Zuko than Aang.

By the end of the show, Zuko is able to rival Azula in combat. The idea of season 3 Aang lasting long in a firebending match with Azula is hilarious to me. Azula was able to give Aang a run for his money with the help of his more competent elements. Imagine Aang fighting Azula in the last agni kai. The girl would kill him.

Those are my main thoughts. I think Zuko is a better firebender. If anything else comes to mind, I will add to this but I am not in the mood to have a long reblog debate about it. If you still think Aang is the better firebender, I really don't care. I refuse to be stressed out on Tumblr again.

All of Aang's teachers are better benders in their own respective elements than Aang. That's just how it is. LOK gave me no indications that Aang became better than Zuko or the others either.

I will say that the gap in ability between Aang and Zuko is the smallest compared to Toph and Katara though. Aang may be able to catch up with Zuko (especially if Zuko never learnt lightning) if he works hard at it but there is no way in hell Aang will ever match Toph and Katara.

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fanby-fckry · 25 days

Text

How to Support Your Asexual Friend (Who May or May Not Know He’s Ace)

Day 5 of Ace Alastor Week: Friendship Friday

Please ignore that I didn’t post on tumblr, yesterday, I promise I didn’t forget/give up, I’m just indecisive and late. I’ve got one up on AO3, but can’t post it here until I figure out what I’m doing.

Word Count: 2,942

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel (Cartoon)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Additional Warnings: Implied/Referenced Canon-Typical Violence

Relationships: Alastor & Charlie Magne | Morningstar & Vaggie, Alastor & Charlie Magne | Morningstar, Alastor & Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel), Charlie Magne | Morningstar/Vaggie

Characters: Charlie Magne | Morningstar, Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Mentioned Rosie (Hazbin Hotel)

Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, (mostly), Episode: s01e07 Hello Rosie! (Hazbin Hotel), then timeskip to, Post-Season/Series 01, Fluff and Humor, Fluff, Humor, Attempt at Humor, Light Angst, Friendship, Developing Friendships, Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Aromantic Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor Has a Heart (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor Being an Idiot (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor Being Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Good Friend Charlie Magne | Morningstar, Supportive Charlie Magne, Supportive Charlie Magne | Morningstar, Charlie Magne | Morningstar is Bad at Feelings, yeah I said it. she’s not good at them either she just has more of them, Fallen Angel Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel), Good Significant Other Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel), Soft Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel), Protective Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel), Asexuality, Ace Community Inside Jokes, Unreliable Narrator, Misunderstandings, Baking, Stress Baking, Talking, Conversations, Crying, Implied/Referenced Canon-Typical Violence

Series: Part 5 of Fanby’s Ace Alastor Week 2024 ( <- Prev || Next -> ) || Part 2 of Piece of Cake! ( <- Prev || )

Summary:

“Remember how you said we could work on supporting Alastor and his ace identity after we survived Extermination Day?” Charlie asked.

Vaggie nodded. “Mhmm.”

“Well, we survived!” Charlie gave an awkward, celebratory thumbs up. “So, now I wanna show my support! Be the good, allo-bisexual ally I know I can be!”

“By baking another cake,” Vaggie deadpanned.

“Yup!”

Charlie wants to show some support for Alastor and his asexuality, and decides that the best way to do so is by baking him a cake several cakes! Vaggie does her best to support Charlie in supporting Alastor.

There are only two problems:

Alastor doesn’t like cake.

Alastor doesn’t realize he’s ace.

Better on AO3

Charlie flopped down on her and Vaggie’s shared bed. “You should’ve seen them, Vaggie!” she said. “They were dancing, and singing, and really, really – honestly kind of creepily interested in the idea of getting to eat the invading Exorcists. Especially their wings.”

Charlie grimaced and Vaggie made a mental note not to expose her newly regrown wings while in Cannibal town.

“But I mean, that’s good, right?” Charlie said, sounding like she was trying to convince herself as well as her girlfriend. “Because they’re on our side!”

Vaggie nodded, intently. “Bloodthirsty troops are the most effective kind, sweetie,” she assured her.

Charlie sighed. “Thanks,” she said, smiling softly. “Rosie’s really nice, though.”

“She is?”

“Mhmm,” Charlie hummed. “I didn’t know what to think of her at first because she made a joke about Alastor and I dating and how I’m too young for him, which: First, no. Not dating. I have an amazing girlfriend and I don’t think about Alastor like that, anyway. And second, even if we were dating, I’m pretty sure I’m older than him? Chronologically, at least.”

Vaggie tried her best to follow along with Charlie’s mile a minute rant, but she felt like she was missing some very important context.

“But then she told us she was just kidding, which was a huge relief, and she called Alastor an ace in the hole-”

“Wait,” Vaggie interrupted. “Alastor’s asexual?”

“Huh?” Charlie tilted her head.

“His best friend, who’s known him for decades, called him ace.”

“Ohh.” Charlie shook her head. “No, no, she called him ‘an ace in the hole.’ You know, like a secret weapon.”

“What did she say, exactly?” Vaggie asked.

Charlie thought for a moment. “She made a comment about how I’m ‘too young’ for him, as if we were dating, and then she said, ‘I’m just kidding. I know you’re an ace in the hole.’”

“So, in the context of explaining why it’s obvious that you two aren’t dating,” Vaggie said, slowly. “She called Alastor ace.”

“Yup!” Charlie said, then paused.

Vaggie could see the exact moment the penny dropped.

“Oh,” Charlie said. “Oh shit. Alastor’s ace.”

“Probably aro, too,” Vaggie pointed out. “I bet Rosie said ‘ace’ instead of ‘aroace’ because it fit the pun better.”

Charlie put a hand under her chin. “You know, that actually makes a lot of things make sense,” she said. “I didn’t wanna assume anything, but Al’s kinda…”

Vaggie finished Charlie’s sentence. “Flamboyant in a way that makes gaydar go haywire?”

“Mhmm.”

“Yeah, Angel’s brought that up a few times.” Vaggie sighed. “And by ‘brought up’ I mean complained about. He thinks Alastor is either straight or an incredibly repressed gay man and can’t figure out which.”

“The answer is neither, apparently,” Vaggie added. “Not that it’s any of his business. Or ours for that matter.”

Charlie gasped. “Should we do another lesson on boundaries?” she asked.

Charlie’s words ran together as question after question came tumbling out of her mouth. “What about amatonormativity and asexual/aromantic erasure in the LGBTQIA+ community? Is there a way I can support Alastor without outing him? What if-”

Vaggie kissed her, and Charlie’s questions melted into a pleased hum against her girlfriend’s lips.

“I think we can figure that out later,” Vaggie said once the kiss broke. “Let’s just focus on protecting the hotel, and if we’re alive afterwards, then we can work on supporting Alastor, ok?”

Charlie nodded. “Ok.” She bit her lip. “I guess it’s just that…”

Vaggie waited patiently while Charlie wrung her hands together.

Charlie took a breath. “It’s easier to think about making new workshops and being a good ally to other parts of the community than it is to think about this!” She gestured vaguely to, well, everything.

“I wish I could go back in time before that meeting with Adam.” Charlie sniffled, and Vaggie grabbed a box of tissues from their bedside table. “Before I fucked everything up.”

Vaggie placed a hand on Charlie’s shoulder and handed her a tissue.

“You did not fuck up,” Vaggie said. “Adam is an asshole. He’s always been an asshole. And Heaven is…”

Vaggie hesitated. She couldn’t think of the right words to describe her feelings about Heaven, even now that Charlie knew what she was.

“We’re going to get through this,” she said instead, and kissed Charlie’s tear-stained cheeks. “Together.”

“Together,” Charlie repeated.

In Charlie’s defense, the first cake was incidental.

They’d just finished rebuilding the hotel – which meant a brand new kitchen! – when Alastor made his triumphant return. And what better way to celebrate the hotel’s completion and her friend’s return than with a cake?

Charlie never actually saw Alastor eat the cake, but he did accept it. And Charlie didn’t find it in the trash, later, so she was going to consider that a success!

The second cake… Well, that was intentional.

“Do we have any purple food coloring?” Charlie asked, rummaging around through the – somehow, already disorganized – kitchen cabinets.

“I’m not sure,” Vaggie said. “But I could run to the store and buy you some if you want, hon.”

“Thanks!” Charlie kept looking. “What about gray? Do they sell gray food coloring or should I just use a smaller portion of black?”

“Uh, Charlie?”

Charlie turned around. “Hm?”

Vaggie was sitting at the island, surrounded by various bakeware and ingredients Charlie had set out. “What are you making that uses all of this” – Vaggie gestured to the somewhat-organized chaos in front of her – “And purple and gray food coloring?”

“I’m baking a cake,” Charlie said cheerfully. “For Alastor.”

“Another one?” Vaggie asked.

“No,” Charlie said, before correcting herself. “Well, ok, yes, but… Let me explain!”

Charlie took a break from her hunt for purple and gray food coloring to join Vaggie at the island.

“I’m listening.”

“Remember how you said we could work on supporting Alastor and his ace identity after we survived Extermination Day?” Charlie asked.

Vaggie nodded. “Mhmm.”

“Well, we survived!” Charlie gave an awkward, celebratory thumbs up. “So, now I wanna show my support! Be the good, allo-bisexual ally I know I can be!”

“By baking another cake,” Vaggie deadpanned.

“Yup!”

“Why?”

Charlie took a deep breath. “Ok, I started by voogling ‘how to support my asexual friend’ and I found a website called HAVEN – Hell’s Asexual Visibility and Education Network, which is actually Hell’s version of a website from the Living World called AVEN that asexual Sinners created for Hell’s ace community – and I kind of wound up going down a rabbit hole about ace culture.”

“Apparently cake is a pretty big thing in the ace community. It’s a…” Charlie hesitated. “Mee-mee?” she guessed. “May-may? I’ve never actually heard anyone say that word out loud…”

“Meme,” Vaggie supplied. “Long E sound.”

“Thank you!” Charlie leaned across the island to give her a quick kiss.

“But yeah, it’s a meme,” Charlie said, pronouncing it correctly that time. “Because a lot of asexual people would rather have cake than have sex. So the saying, ‘I’d rather have cake,’ and cake in general became a whole thing.”

“And the food coloring?”

Charlie grinned so hard her cheeks started to hurt. “I’m gonna bake four layers in the colors of the asexual pride flag!”

Vaggie looked at her fondly. “I love you,” she said.

Charlie’s smile somehow got even brighter. “I love you too!”

Charlie squeaked. “This is gonna be amazing!” she said, bouncing in her seat. “I’m going to get a good grade in allyship! Something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve!”

Vaggie shook her head and sighed, a soft smile gracing her adorable face. “Alright,” she said. “Let’s bake a cake.”

Why the hell was Charlie baking Alastor so many cakes?

The first one, that made sense. Alastor had just returned after being mortally wounded in the battle to defend the hotel, and dare he say it, a celebration was in order.

Of course, he would’ve preferred a strong drink or some freshly killed venison, but he graciously accepted the gift he was given. He didn’t eat it of course, but it would’ve been rude to reject Charlie’s misguided attempt at a welcome home gift.

But then came a second. And a third. And a fourth, fifth, sixth cake. What the fuck was going on?

Was there a joke he wasn’t in on? Had Charlie developed some sort of dessert-related madness? Was this her latest hairbrained scheme to send Damned Souls skyward?

It would all come to an end if he would just turn the damned things down. He knew that, but…

Charlie stood in front of Alastor, holding the sixth – the sixth – cake, smiling like the sun he hadn’t seen since 1933. He took the cake, thanked her, and left.

Something had to be done about this. He needed to go see Rosie.

Vaggie walked warily into the hotel’s kitchen. It looked like some kind of culinary warzone. Mixing bowls and baking sheets were piled precariously on top of egg cartons and sacks of flour.

“Hey, hon? Charlie? Sweetie?”

Charlie popped her head up from behind one of the towers of bakeware. There was purple cake batter on her cheek. “Yes?”

“Don’t you think this is getting to be a little…”

Somewhere, something crashed to the ground. Vaggie hoped it wasn’t something breakable. Niffty had a habit of collecting shards of broken glass or ceramic and turning them into makeshift weaponry.

“Much?” Vaggie finished.

Charlie tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

Vaggie pursed her lips. “It’s just that…”

A bag of sugar fell from its perch. The only thing that stopped it from hitting Charlie in the face was Vaggie’s quick reflexes.

Vaggie opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted yet again. Not by another object falling from the crumbling towers, but by a different kind of chaos all together.

Alastor returned to the hotel at a completely reasonable rate.

Which is to say, as fast as demonically possible. That was a very reasonable rate considering he was facing the possibility of a seventh cake he could neither eat nor refuse.

When he arrived at the hotel, the first thing he heard was something made of glass being shattered on the kitchen floor. He could only hope that it was Husker drinking while cooking or Niffty breaking glassware to have a mess to clean and sharp objects to play with.

Much to Alastor’s chagrin, it was neither.

The kitchen was a disaster. How Charlie had managed to get it in such a state was beyond him. Alastor had cooked dinner for the other hotel residents just a few nights ago, and while the organizational system was somewhat of a mess – as is often the case when you have seven cooks in the kitchen – it wasn’t anywhere near the catastrophic levels of the kitchen’s current state.

Vaggie was balancing on her toes, wings outstretched, with one arm in the air, holding a bag of sugar over Charlie’s head.

“Hello there, ladies!” Alastor made his presence known before Vaggie could do something ridiculously sappy like pour sugar on Charlie’s head and call her ‘sweet.’

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked, knowing damned well that he was.

“No!” Charlie said at the same time that Vaggie groaned, “Yes!”

“Ah, good to see we’re all on the same page!”

Charlie smiled nervously while Vaggie grumbled something under her breath in Spanish. Alastor didn’t speak Spanish, but he was fairly certain that whatever she was saying was both directed at him and incredibly rude. He magnanimously decided to ignore it.

“Charlie,” Alastor said, allowing his voice to drop slightly. “If I might have a word.”

“Uh, yeah, sure, of course!” Charlie made her way through the absolute nightmare that was the hotel’s kitchen, occasionally cursing when something crashed to the ground in her wake.

Vaggie glared daggers at Alastor from over Charlie’s shoulder. And yet, there was something beneath it. Some sense of desperateness. Interesting… He should follow up on that.

“What did you wanna talk about, Al?” Charlie asked once she was finally standing face to face with Alastor.

“I’d like to discuss the cakes.”

Charlie’s face lit up, and from across the room, that look of desperation and wrath on Vaggie’s face intensified. Very interesting indeed.

Almost interesting to make him pause his attempts to stop this nonsense long enough to figure out how he could use it to his advantage. But not quite.

“While I appreciate the gesture, I must admit, I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.” Alastor adjusted his monocle, trying to ignore the way Charlie’s cheery demeanor had started to droop.

He could only hope that Rosie was right about this.

“In fact, I’d rather have garlic bread,” Alastor said, repeating the exact words Rosie had used.

Instantly, Charlie’s expression changed. To what was debatable. Alastor thought he saw about ten different emotions run across her face, most of which he had never had the displeasure of feeling, himself.

When she finally did speak, the words came rushing out all at once. “Oh my goodness, I didn’t mean to assume!”

Charlie reached out as if to touch him, then pulled back, balling her hands into fists and holding them rigid against her sides. Smart girl.

“I’m so, so sorry, Alastor!” she said, barely pausing for breath. “Of course, I know aces aren’t a monolith, I just thought that…”

Charlie continued speaking, but Alastor wasn’t paying very close attention. Whatever she was saying was of little importance and made even less sense.

However, there was one word that kept catching his ear, persistently clamoring across his consciousness like a single note out of tune in an otherwise unremarkable song. And like an off-key note, it didn’t seem to fit within the context provided for it.

Which begged the question…

Why did everyone keep calling him ‘ace?’

Oh, Charlie was starting to look teary eyed. He’d better tune back in.

“…and I just wanna be a good friend.” Charlie’s voice wavered. Her knuckles were somehow even whiter than usual as she fought to keep her hands at her sides, and tears were already starting to spill down her cheeks.

Alastor made an executive decision to cut the waterworks off before they could truly begin. Of course, this would mean he’d be liable for Charlie’s famous ‘happy tears,’ but well… anything was better than this.

Alastor reached out and hugged Charlie, who promptly collapsed onto his shoulder and began to cry what he hoped were the aforementioned ‘happy tears.’

“You are a good friend, my dear,” he said, which triggered another – happy? – sob.

Alastor looked to Vaggie for help. He was out of his depth, here. Somehow Rosie’s advice had both made things better and worse.

Vaggie – whether for the sake of her sweetheart or to put Alastor out of his misery – met them in the doorway.

Alastor was just about to pass Charlie off to Vaggie when she lifted her head off of his shoulder.

Charlie looked up at Alastor with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face. “Thank you, Alastor,” she said. “That means a lot.”

Alastor’s own smile softened. “I do consider you a friend, Charlie,” he said, his voice almost entirely unfiltered.

Charlie made a truly pathetic – and somewhat endearing – whimpering sound, and between that and her expression, Alastor suspected that the ‘happy tears’ which had finally begun to stem were threatening to return in full force.

“That’s quite enough of that!” Alastor spun Charlie out of his arms and into Vaggie’s.

“I think I’ve had enough cake to last a lifetime, and enough sentimentality to last two!” Alastor made a show of dusting himself off. Well, it was mostly for show. His shoulder was wet, and a bit of magic goes a long way when combined with such a gesture.

“If you do decide to transfer your obsessive baking fixation into garlic bread, please limit yourself to once a month or less,” Alastor said casually. And then, with just a hint of darkness, “Lest I lose my appetite for that as well.”

Charlie sniffled and wiped her tears away with her palms. Vaggie held her protectively, wings still visible. Her feathers were fluffed the way Husker’s sometimes got when he was feeling rebellious, and she looked like she was poised to kill should Charlie give the word.

Instead, Charlie gave quite the opposite! She giggled, a much more appealing sound than all the sobbing – happy or otherwise. “I can do that,” she said.

Both Alastor and Vaggie let out a sigh of relief.

Oh, so that’s what the look was about. Vaggie was as disturbed by Charlie’s baking mania as Alastor was.

Alastor probably could’ve used that to his advantage – and potentially gotten another Deal out of it – but he was honestly just grateful that the whole thing was finished.

Alastor and Vaggie shared a brief and odd moment of comradery, silently celebrating the end of a hell within Hell.

“Well, it was nice chatting with you both,” Alastor said, more than ready to leave both the conversation and the kitchen. “I’m happy we could put this whole cake confusion behind us!”

“Agreed,” Vaggie said. Her tone and expression spoke volumes. Clearly she’d witnessed horrors beyond Alastor’s comprehension. Which is saying a lot considering the Eldritch nature of his abilities.

Charlie laughed and hummed an, “Mhmm,” in agreement.

Alastor was going to consider that a success!

Alastor hummed along to a song he’d strung together from the airwaves as he made his exit – read, ‘escape’ – from the kitchen.

That had gone smoother than expected, all things considered.

“Ha!” he laughed to himself. Piece of cake.

#fanby’s fuckery #fanby’s fics #acealastorweek2024 #hazbin hotel #alastor #charlie morningstar #vaggie #rosie hazbin hotel #aroace alastor #asexual alastor #aromantic alastor #chaggie

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bxddiebloss · 10 months

Text

✦ In which Nagi Seishiro can’t stop thinking about you when he joins Blue Lock.

✦ Fluff.

✦ Part one here. ✦ Part three here.

⟡ masterlist

⟡ A/N: Thank you for requesting another episode w/ Sei!! <;3 @nerdiel-has-no-braincells

After the argument between you and Reo, Sei apologized and took you out on the date he promised you.

When you got to his apartment, you noticed a letter mailed to him that was set on the front door of his apartment and got curious.

You asked him if you could open it and he shrugged, not really caring only because he was busy making the supper he promised.

As you opened the letter, your eyes widened when you read the letter.

“Sei! Congrats!” You said excitedly.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“You got scouted to go to a soccer/football camp! It’s a great opportunity, you should go.”

“But that means I can’t be with you though…”

This warmed your heart.

“But you can always call me! You’ll make so many new friends. You need some anyway.”

“Hm. I’ll think about it. I’ll call you every night then. Foods ready, though. Can we eat while we play Mortal Combat, please?”

“Of course, this date is supposed to be fun.”

A week later, Sei found himself wrapping his arms and legs around your body, as you packed his things for Blue Lock.

“Nooo, I don’t wanna go,” he mumbled.

“Yes you do, I told you it’s going to be a great opportunity. Plus, Reo is going to be there. He told me that he was going to look after you.”

Silence. You try to look behind you but all you see is Sei’s head leaning on your shoulder.

He fell asleep, standing, and leaning on you for support.

That’s what you get for staying up so late playing video games, you think.

You set his things by the door and let him take a nap before he gets ready to go. As you wish him goodbye, he keeps on complaining until you give him a hug and kiss while ruffling his silky white hair.

A few days after Sei and Reo joined Blue Lock, they haven’t texted you once.

Understanding, you just came to the conclusion that they were training extra hard but just didn’t have the time to text you, even though you found it a little suspicious that Sei would’ve texted you back already, with him always playing video games and such. There also was a toll taking on you as well. Lack of sleep from worrying about the boys gave you eye bags and little to no patience with your classmates.

Little did you know that Sei actually couldn’t go a minute without thinking about you. It got to the point where he was playing with his food, thinking about how much he missed you. Even Reo had to carry him back to their room because of how exhausted he was from his lack of sleep (staying awake and thinking about you).

More days pass and you get more stressed out from the lack of messages from your brother and boyfriend. As you were about to fall asleep, you got a text notification. Picking your phone up, you see that it’s from Sei.

Sei <3

I just got my phone back. Such a hassle. :x

Smiling, you shoot a response back just as quickly.

(Name) <3

What happened?

As he texts you a reply, you both stay on the phone all night together and end up pulling an all nighter.

Of course, there was going to be consequences. The next day (more like a few hours later), Sei gets yelled at for being even lazier than usual meanwhile you fall asleep during class and get detention.

But you and Sei both realized one thing, you needed each other to survive.

#blue lock x reader #nagi seishiro x you #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi fluff #nagi x you #bllk nagi #seishiro nagi x reader

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neorukixart · 6 months

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Digimon Adventure 02: THE BEGINNING countdown! Day 7, Free day: Lui and Ukkomon

02beginning x Digimon Survive

My final piece for @digimon02countdown uwu I don't think this is very "spoiler-ish" but I hope it's ok ;w; I just really wanted to include my new son in the countdown and yes, I used Haru's pose because I ran out of pose ideas when I reached Takeru xD

Well, the day is here. I hope the peeps who can watch the movie can enjoy it on my behalf ;w; because I'll have to wait until Nov 30th and only if it's available in my closest cinema OTL

The next episode of Digimon Adventure 02, "THE BEGINNING" hits japanese cinemas this October 27th 2023. The gate for a new adventure opens now!

Static version below ;3

I have no idea how to draw Ukkomon OTL

Man, can't believe I actually did it... I FILLED ALL THE DAYS!! OH MAI GAH WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME I COULD FINISH A WEEK EVENT?!

*cough* well... now I will have to wait if the miracle of the movie being available in the cinemas that are at 5 and 10 mins away from my home happens... I really hope I don't have to make a 3 hours trip OTL

#digimon02countdown #digimon #digimon adventure 02 the beginning #oowada rui #ohwada lui #ukkomon #rui oowada #lui ohwada #I did it *coughs blood* I filled all the 7 days #thank you so much #now if you excuse me I have to go cry somewhere else because I can't watch... for now~ bye #02beginning

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smnthchrstn · 5 months

Note

heartbeat prompt 28 for austin? 😍

Literally can’t tell you how sorry I am that this took me checks calendar five months to write and finish. Thank you for requesting ❤️ to see more prompts from this particular list click here. To send me a request please click here. To see my masterlist please click here. Thank you :)

plot: based on no. 28 of this post: “"I love hearing your heart racing like this for me." / you work at the SNL studios and it is December 2022. Austin has arrived to practice for the week to host the holiday show and you two are getting busy in a dressing room. Happy Holidays! 💋

Content warning: smut/mature themes, p in v (protected)

He had his head against your breast. Or at least that’s what it had felt like. You were both basking in the aftermath of one explicitly rated endeavor, in your dressing room, hidden far away from everyone else on a couch.

The two of you had been screwing around for some time - but you lived and worked out of New York City. Geographically, it hadn’t been the easiest of things to figure out. Austin was this up and coming movie star, his success with Elvis that summer had been unlike anything you’d witnessed before and it had kept him as busy as ever.

But you’d pulled some strings and Lorne Michaels said he’d be thrilled to have someone who had so much publicity going around him that summer to host the final Saturday Night Live episode of the year, and especially the holiday show! You were excited beyond belief and couldn’t wait to share the news with Austin, although it had to come from his agency first.

Once he’d landed in New York it hadn’t taken him long to get to your dressing room.

“Wait, what about your girl-“ he cut you off as he placed a hand on your arm. “We’re on a break,” he murmured. His cologne made you want to sneeze a little but you didn’t. You laid back against the couch and took him in. His sparkly blue eyes captivated you, swallowing you wholly, as if you could get sucked into them like waves on a beach carrying you far, far away. “My God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, looking at you the same way you were admiring him.

It took mere seconds for him to lean in and press his lips to yours, the heat rising between both of you. You could tell instantaneously that he was growing beneath you, he kept attempting to grab at himself. “Baby, let me take care of you,” you whispered, moving your hands to his jeans and unzipping them carefully. Light eyelashes fluttered open as his blue eyes darkened some and settled on your face. You ran your free hand through his hair, feeling sweat at the base of his neck and scratched down his back gently. You nodded once or twice to let him know. “Go ahead,” you mouthed. Long and slender fingers peeled away your leggings and slipped off anything underneath them. Hot breath and warm lips sent shivers to your lower stomach and pelvic area as he kissed down your legs and reached your inner thighs.

“I don’t care how you have me, just take me,” you finally moaned, feeling the pressure between your own legs intensify unbelievably. “Baby girl, give me a minute to warm you up.” That damned Southern drawl had stuck around - good thing too because it’d be written into a sketch or two. “Austin Robert,” you breathed, your heart galloping along harder and harder until you weren’t sure whether you’d survive the next thing the man before you would do. “Don’t full name me, I’m trying to give you your gift.” You nearly scoffed. “Sex is my -“ you paused, your breath hitching and your heart jumping inside you.

His lips had reached your center and he began moving his tongue teasingly. It was already too much for you and it had barely begun. “Oh,” you breathed quickly, hoping you didn’t come too quickly. You could feel the arousal pooling in your lower stomach and your hand instinctively moved there until his did and moved your own aside. Austin’s fingertips rubbed gently and he could almost swear he’d been able to feel you. He sat back for a moment to wiggle off his underwear and open a condom with his teeth before sliding it over himself. “God, you’re so hot,” you breathed, reaching up to pull off his shirt. Smooth skin. Abs that you could see if you looked for them but could mostly feel with your fingertips. And strong arms. “You look so good,” you breathed again. “You do too, baby love,” he murmured before leaning back down.

He kissed and kissed everywhere he possibly could. Your face, your neck, your arms, your chest, your stomach, that damned lower stomach area that he knew would drive you absolutely wild. “Ready for me?” Austin whispered against your ear. “Yes,” you confirmed and closed your eyes, moaning softly once he’d entered. Your hips began to move rhythmically - part of you sad that he’d chosen to wear the condom in the first place, but you knew it was smart to be responsible. You wanted to feel him in every inch of you and you could now. You could feel him in your toes, your legs, your abdomen, your chest, your head. You weren’t sure how your heart hadn’t managed to escape your chest by that point but it still beat furiously inside you.

His breathing was unsteady above you and you moved a hand to his chest, smiling to yourself as you felt the unstable rhythm of his own heartbeat through his skin and if you’d had your eyes opened, you probably could’ve viewed it too. “Pace yourself,” you thought to both yourself and Austin - but you didn’t dare say it. Didn’t want him to stop. Never, ever stop. “Baby, harder,” you instructed. He viewed you as this fragile being, you knew. But you weren’t fragile. You were wild, and horny and hungry for him - you had been for weeks and you were finally getting your fill, literally. Austin bucked his hips harder against yours, stifling a moan. You pressed your hand against his chest, feeling his pulse quicken somehow after going harder. “I’m going to come,” you finally murmured and you did - your eyes rolling back some into your head. Austin had too.

Which brings you back to the beginning. You’re both on the couch, his head is resting on your chest. “I love hearing your heart racing like this for me,” he murmurs drowsily. “My heart?” You asked with the smallest of giggles. “I felt yours during it. It was the most exhilarating and amazing thing I’ve ever felt, Aus.” Your fingers threaded through his blonde hair, that had become darker with sweat. He turned his head some to press a gentle kiss to your chest once or twice. “I’m pretty sure it’s yours,” Austin confirmed, lifting his head a little to look at you and to press another soft kiss to your lips. “Does that mean there’ll be a round two?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “Mhm,” the blonde man murmured. “Always gonna be a round two for us,” Austin agreed.

#austin butler #austin butler imagines #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #my ficx

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agi-ppangx · 8 months

Note

hello, hello, we meet again for a new idea of a ff. (atp I think I deserve an emoji or smth, so you can know it's me bcs get used to me giving you ideas. you write too beautifully to not have requests, I'm sorry. P.S.: js recommended you to a few friends and to my girlfriend and they all congratulated your skills of writing!💕)

anyway, what do you feel about an enemies to lovers trope with lee know? reader's a trainee (dancing is her speciality) and she is the first one to break the trainee record of being the fastest trainee to learn the basic JYP entertainment moves in 4 weeks, which she was very proud of. This until a new trainee comes, Lee minho, who learns the moves in 2 weeks, breaking reader's record. This gets reader annoyed and works even harder to prove the people around that she is a better dancer than him. They never talk, only rarely mocking each other when the other one wasn't around.

Then, it comes the Survival Show (im sorry - not really - but im changing the shows's rules. there will be two teams, FEMALE 2TEAM - made with Yeji, Yuna, Chaeryeong, Ryujin, Somi and reader - and MALE 2TEAM - we already know the contestants for this team- which will create then a group of people who didn't get eliminated. the elimination happens every episode, two people leaving) where the two of them have to work together in order to create the perfect balance for the choreography between the two teams. That's how they start getting along better and actually realize that they could be friends. They still had arguments but never something too big. When it was time for the elimination in episode 4, minho, reader and yuna were om the verge of elimination. However, only reader didn't get eliminated. Tears in everyone's eyes as minho and Yuna leave the set, but reader soon understands that it was minho's place to be in the boy group. She talks to JYP about being a bad idea the fact that it will be a mix group and that she prefers not to be involved in such a drama, in order to get minho back in the team. she succeeds and runs to minho, telling him the situation. (the last few sentences, make it soft like- fluffy? idk??)

~ the jeongin ff anon

💭the right thing

pairing: lee minho x fem!reader

an: im really for the wait but the fic is finally here !! i hope you'll be satisfied with it❤️ also thank you so so much for recommending my blog, it means the world to me🥹 and yes, you do deserve an emoji !! please let me know which one you choose<3

“our dancing queen~” you heard ryujin’s voice which interrupted your conversation with yuna. you looked up at her, curious what was that about. “i have bad news for you,” she added, sitting next to you. you raised your eyebrow - bad news? what kind of bad news? “someone broke your record, yn.”

you weren’t mad at all. were you mad? no, no, you weren’t. it’s okay, it’s just a stupid record. it’s nothing important. it’s okay. it’s not like it was something you’d worked hard your whole life. no. no, it’s fine. you were completely fine- “yn, put the knife down,” yuna said firmly, looking at your dissociated figure. “put it down, did you hear me? you have this weird absent expression on your face and it looks scary.” you slowly put the knife in the sink, sighing loudly, and leaned your hands on the counter. you felt yuna’s arms wrap around you from behind, gently placing her chin on your shoulder. “you know it means absolutely nothing, right? you'll always be our dancing queen,” she whispered, trying to cheer you up a little bit. did it work? no, no it didn’t, but you knew you couldn’t sulk for the rest of your life, so you just nodded weakly and proceeded with your daily routine, trying to forget about everything. after all, you had to prepare for the showcase and you didn’t have time to worry about some random dude you’ll forget in a month anyway.

your next practice was intense to say the least. It all started with just yuna, yeji and you, but then some other trainees decided to join you and after some time almost the whole practice room was filled with people. and among those people was lee minho, dancing at the front next to you. his presence was making you nervous, but motivated you as well. you tried your best for hours, sweat (and some tears) were making its way down your face, muscles hurting and head spinning, but you didn’t slow down. minho noticed your state in the mirror and mumbled something under his nose, smirking, but you didn’t catch it. so, you stopped the dancing and took a step in his direction. “you wanna repeat that?” you asked, your cold piercing gaze was trying to burn holes in his head. but he just looked at you and shook his head. “i don’t know what you’re talking about. go back to practising,” he responded, visibly happy with your annoyance. “you definitely need it more than i do,” he added with an evil smile, much quieter, but that you managed to catch. you scoffed at his words, amused by his exaggerated self-confidence and decided to try ignoring him for the rest of the practice. you had to prove something, not to get into stupid fights with minho.

“you need it more than i do,” you said in a mocking tone when you decided to take a break from practising. you were currently sitting in a convenience store with the girls, fumbling with your noodles and losing your appetite just thinking about minho. you were furious. “who does he think he is, huh?” you rambled on and on, your head hurting from all the negative emotions that were building up inside you. “yn, i love you, but i think you care a bit too much,” chaeryeong said softly, taking a sip of her drink. you looked at her and raised your eyebrow. she noticed your not-so-friendly gaze and spoke again. “don't get me wrong, but it really doesn't matter that he beat the record. there are so many other people who are great dancers without breaking the record, it's just a formality.” you nodded weakly at her words. she was right. of course it didn't matter. “besides,” ryujin started with a mouthful of ramen. “you still can show you're better by debuting sooner than him,” she continued and went straight back to eating. she was also right. the only way to show you were better than him was debuting and that was your goal.

“a mixed group?” you huffed after the showcase was done. you were still in your stage outfit, catching your breath after an exhausting performance. JYP surprised you all, deciding to change the rules a bit and create a mixed group instead of choosing one of your teams to debut. it wouldn’t be anything bad, but since minho was a part of the male group, to say you were mad was an understatement. “yn, look at the positives - we might be able to finally debut. you’ve been here for so long already, you should be celebrating,” yeji said firmly and the rest of the girls nodded with approval. “i am happy, of course i am. and i'm gonna celebrate. i just don’t feel too fancy about the fact that i might end up in one group with lee minho,” you exhaled loudly, sounding more and more defeated with each word. “i mean, nothing’s sure for now. lots of us are gonna be eliminated, so maybe he’ll be one of those people?” ryujin suggested and earned a slap on her arm from yeji. “stop the negativity, no one’s eliminated yet. let’s just go eat something and don’t think about anyone else other than ourselves,” yeji exclaimed, hyping you all up and you decided to drop the topic for the night and enjoy your little success, knowing that there was just gonna be harder with each day.

“no, no, i'm not doing this,” you whined loudly, falling on your bed late at night. your body was aching from the whole day of practising and recording a song JYP asked you to create with the male group. he assigned the composing to chan, changbin and han, while the people who were responsible for choreography were you and minho. and to no one's surprise you weren't happy about this. but you had nothing to say since it was JYP's decision - you had to respect it.

that's how you ended up in the boys' dorm, alone with minho. it was awkward, to say the least. you didn't know how to behave and since minho hadn't really said anything else than “come in” and “you wanna drink something?”you just stood there in silence and looked around a little. the rest of the boys either went to eat or stayed at the company to practise, so it was really quiet there. “chan sent me the finished song,” he finally spoke, his voice soft and steady. you nodded and asked him to play it to you so you could think about the choreography a bit. you closed your eyes when the song started playing and listened intently, paying close attention to certain parts of the chorus. when the song was done, you opened your eyes and noticed that minho was staring at you. you raised your eyebrow and he cleared his throat, converting his gaze at his phone. “so, um… do you have any ideas where we should start?” he asked faintly and you started to share your concept with him.

that's how your little cooperation started. your first choreography was met with a huge enthusiasm from both teams as well as JYP himself. you did well and because of that minho and you were officially in charge of creating a perfect balance in choreographies between both teams. you weren't as mad as before, because you actually kind of enjoyed working with minho - he had different experiences with dancing and therefore he was able to share his unique ideas with you. it wasn't too easy though, because you both had strong characters and you struggled to come to a compromise sometimes, but regardless of your small disagreements you warmed up to him and felt this weird urge to spend more time with him. what was happening to you?

that's why, when episode 4 came and you two were on the verge of elimination alongside yuna, you felt as if your world was going to collapse. you struggled to breathe standing in front of JYP. he had this serious expression and was looking at the three of you. “yn and minho,” you heard his voice and stiffened, your heart speeding and tears welling in your eyes. “you were in charge of the choreography again, but something didn't work this time,” he continued and your hands started shaking. minho noticed it and quietly took your hand in his, squeezing it to reassure you. JYP shared his feedback with yuna as well and you exhaled shakily. you were scared. “yn.” you looked up at JYP again, expecting the worst. “for me your enthusiasm and willingness to work and become even better is clearly seen. and even if this week you and minho didn't do your job properly, i see the most potential in you,” he continued in a serious tone. “that's why you are the one to stay. you can come back to your team.” you stood there in shock, tears now streaming down your face. you bowed clumsily and took a step back, your vision blurry. you didn't really remember the rest of his words, but when he left the set, you rushed to yuna and minho and hugged them tightly, sobbing. “i'm so sorry,” you babbled. “i'm so, so sorry.” “it's okay, it's not your fault,” yuna said shakily. she then smiled at you and went to say goodbye to others. you then hugged minho again, burying your face in his chest. “you should be the one staying here,” you mumbled, sniffling. “i'll fix this,” you added, looking him in the eyes. he only patted your head and smiled softly. “it's okay, we did a great job anyway,” he chuckled. “bye, yn. i liked to work with you even if you hate me” “bye, minho. i don't actually hate you.”

it wasn't right. no. it was his place, he belonged here. you spoke to JYP once, but he brushed you off after a minute. then you spoke to him for the second time, he said no. you tried again, he told you his decision was made. but you didn't want to respect it. it wasn't right. after episode 5 you went to him again. this time, he listened to you, taking in everything you wanted to say about this being a bad idea. “i'm willing to switch places with him, just please bring him back,” you pleaded. but he only said you should go back to your dorm. you cried on your way there. and you cried yourself to sleep that day.

episode 6 and minho came back. you couldn't believe your eyes - JYP brought him back. you didn't really listen to the man when he was explaining everything. you only saw minho - his eyes were so sparkly and when they met yours, you saw him smile widely. then JYP left the practice room to give you some time to reunite and you didn't waste time. you ran to him and immediately wrapped your arms around his neck. you rambled on and on that you were so happy to see him again and explained the whole situation. you must've started crying at some point cause minho had to wipe some tears from your cheeks. “i make you cry a lot, huh?” minho said jokingly when you stopped the ramble. “no wonder you hate me,” he added and your smile faded. “i don't hate you. if i did, i would've choked you instead of hugging you right now,” you giggled, smiling again. “fair point. but if you don't hate me then how do you feel about me?” minho teased, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. “i was hoping you would know by now.” “oh, i do. i just want you to say it out loud,” he said, his face getting closer and closer to yours. but you didn't respond to that, pecking his cheek instead and finally backing off a little to let the rest say hi to him. you were smiling the whole time and you knew you did the right thing.

taglist: @lynlyndoll @iyenbread @flooo71 @skz-streamer @inniescandy-01

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feedback and reblogs highly appreciated🫶🏽

#skz #stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids headcanons #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz au #stray kids scenarios #skz comfort #stray kids comfort #skz lee minho #skz lee know #lee know headcanons #lee know scenarios #lee know fluff #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know comfort

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 1 year

Text

Healing

Summary: A quiet night in after escaping what should have been certain death in Kansas city turns into a nightmare when you wake up to find out your sister had been infected.

(future) Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.4k

Rating: M

Warnings: SPOILERS for Episode 5 of The last of us, angst, (little fluff though?), character death, implied suicide thoughts, blood, does have kind of a happy end though

A/N: This came to me after watching the latest episode of The last of us. I am not saying this could turn into a series. But you should know me by now lmao Thank you @psychedelic-ink for reading over this for me 💜

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics to get notified for new updates

A part of Joel still could not believe they made it out of Kansas City unharmed and alive. All of them. His sole focus should have been on Ellie. Getting her out of there. Getting her to the fireflies. But he wanted to keep you safe too. You and your sister.

You were joining them on their way to find Tommy.

Even if they walked all day it would take weeks until they were even close to finding him.

He had been taken off guard that night you had found them, holding your gun pointed against Ellie before you asked him for help. And while his first instinct was to shoot you, he couldn’t deny that you were… beautiful.

He jumped out of reflex, his hand finding his gun when you walked back in.

When you had come to the abandoned motel and settled the girls down in the room next door you had told him that you had to use the bathroom, taking your backpack with you. You gave him a weak smile as you settled down across from him on the floor.

“Thank you,” you said quietly. He tilted his head.

“For getting us out of there. You didn’t have to,” you said, opening your backpack to look for something to eat. You smiled when you found some grapes that had surprisingly survived the journey. You got up and handed them to Joel who looked at you with a strange expression.

“You’re welcome,” he said, his finger brushing over yours as he took the grapes from you. You smiled softly, nodding once before you turned around to your makeshift bed.

Your smile widened when you heard the girls next door giggle. You hadn't heard your sister laugh in a long time.

You didn’t notice Joel watching you as you prepared your bed and got out of your boots before you laid down.

You sighed, closing your eyes before you turned to your side.

Joel had turned the light off, his silhouette only visible by the moonlight shining through the dirty windows.

“Do you ever wonder how your life would be if the outbreak hadn’t happened?” you asked after a while, not even sure if he was still awake.

“Not really,” he said after a while.

“I wonder about it all the time. I was barely sixteen when it happened. I wonder where I would work now. If I’d still be friends with the people I went to school with. I wonder if I would have experienced real love even once,” you whispered.

“You’ never been in love?”

“I’m... not sure,” you answered after a while. You heard him shift on the floor.

“You’d know if you had been, trust me.”

“What’s it like?” you asked. You heard him sigh.

“You can’t stop thinking about the person you love. Ever. Fucking sucks,” he groaned and you chuckled.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said softly, ignoring the way you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Joel since the moment you had seen him for the first time.

“Sleep. We got a long way to go tomorrow,” he said.

“Good night,” you whispered, falling asleep within minutes, missing how Joel got up to cover you with his jacket to keep you warm.

It happened too fast.

You were abruptly woken up by Ellie’s scream before the door burst open and you watched with wide eyes as your baby sister attacked the other girl. Your gun was out and pointed towards the girls on the floor, Ellie fighting against your baby sister.

The screech that came out of your sister’s mouth would haunt you forever.

“Don’t,” you heard Joel say but you were blinking your eyes to try to make sense of what you were seeing. Ellie was screaming, trying to get your sister off of her. She was just trying to sink her teeth into Ellie and before you realised what you did, your finger had pulled the trigger, the gunshot abruptly bringing silence into the room.

You watched the blood pool beneath the body of your sister, unable to realise what you just did. You blinked your eyes a couple of times, the gun in your hand shaking as it still pointed towards where Ellie was now looking at you with tears running down her cheeks.

“Don’t,” your head snapped to the side, your eyes finding Joel’s, your gun still pointed to where you just had shot your baby sister.

Joel was looking at you, his hands in front of his body in a calming manner. As if he was approaching a wild animal.

You shook your head, your eyes wide.

“I… I …. I….” you stuttered, the gun shaking in your hands. You began to turn your head back to look at her when Joel snapped you out of it, snipping his fingers.

“Do not look at her, look at me,” he said. You shook your head, your lips trembling.

“What did I just do?” you asked yourself, your voice breaking.

Joel said your name and your eyes found his.

“Put down the gun,” he said, taking a careful step towards you but your fingers only grabbed the cold metal of the gun harder, your finger aching from how tight you were gripping it.

No matter where you looked, all you saw was how you shot your sister. The sister you had protected from a whole city for weeks.

The only family you had left on this god forsaken planet.

You wanted the pictures to stop. Your eyes wandered to the gun in your hand.

You could make it stop. You could make the pictures stop. You could make it all stop. You just had to….

Joel said your name again and you looked at him.

“Please don’t,” he said pleadingly, taking another step closer and this time you loosened your grip, tears filling your eyes.

“I killed her,” you whimpered.

You turned your head but before you could look at her again Joel was there, one of his hands pulling the gun out of yours, his other hand turning your head so you had to look at him.

“You saved us. You saved us all,” he said, and then his other hand was on the other side of your head, making you look at him and only him.

“I killed her,” you sobbed, whimpering before you broke down. Before you could hit the floor Joel had pulled you against him, holding you up as you broke down in his arms.

“I know,” he whispered against your ear.

“I’m here,” he mumbled and your fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt, crying against him.

“I’m here.”

You were kneeling at your sister's grave, your tears dried, but your heart broken. She had her whole life in front of her. You would never see her grow up. You would never see her smile again. You would never talk to her again.

Ellie knelt down next to you, putting her writing pad on top of the grave, the words I’m sorry written on it.

You looked at her briefly as she got back up.

“What direction is west?” she asked.

“There,” Joel said from behind you and you closed your eyes, breathing in deeply. You wondered if there would ever come a day where you wouldn’t hurt. Where you wouldn’t feel guilty anymore.

You got back up on your feet, slapping the dirt off your knees as you briefly looked at Joel.

He was looking after Ellie.

“Will it ever stop hurting?” you asked. His eyes found yours before he looked down at his watch.

“No,” he finally said and you nodded.

He looked after Ellie, a strange expression on his face.

You didn’t know who he lost, but you knew whoever it was must have been important to him.

“But it will get better, if you allow yourself to heal,” he said as he looked back up at you. He bent down, picking up his backpack and jacket, putting it on.

“How do you allow yourself to heal?” you asked.

“I don’t know but I think I’m ready to find out,” he said and you swore his lips barely twitched upwards into what could be considered a smile before he walked past you and followed Ellie.

You took one last look at your sister's grave, before you grabbed your backpack which now also contained hers. And then you turned around, taking step after step into a new future.

#my fic #Joel Miller #Joel Miller x fem. reader #Pedro Pascal #tlou #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction

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marvel-starwarsfangirl · 1 month

Text

Episode 9 "The Harbinger" Review

Ah Jennifer, Jennifer, Jennifer... you love to watch us get all worked up don't you? But in all seriousness, I really enjoyed this episode. It's so beautifully animated and scored. I need the Kiners to drop the OST asap because man was the music stunning. (This episode also further proves that Echo clearly was the braincell of the group and I'm cackling).

As always, spoilers below:

BEHOLD! THE RETURN OF OUR QUEEN VENTRESS! I loved how she was utilized. I was surprised to see her actually be there on Pabu, but it makes sense since Fennec told her to find them. However, I am wondering how she did find Pabu. My guess is that Ventress was given Hunter's photo and meditated with it until she felt his presence... somewhere. Or she knew a guy who knew a guy who knew Phee. Everything from Ventress' design to voice acting was perfection. The animators really popped off with her Dark Disciple look. But, how did she survive? Nightsister magic? There's probably some explanation, but it'll be left ambiguous for reasons.

Her relationship with Omega was very well done. She's changed so much since her first appearance in CW. I liked the balance between her ability to still kick butt while also being a good person at heart as shown with Omega. She doesn't kill the Batch even though they got defensive (and I understand why they did). The scene where she calms the giant kraken-like creature was so so good. It's a nice way of showing how Ventress has found the light with the Force. Her line about being on a side of her own was also good and pretty much sums up her character perfectly. She's neither dark nor light, she's just right.

It's also obvious from the title that she's the harbinger. Harbingers are people that herald the approach of someone or danger. For the Batch, she's a harbinger of doom. That doesn't mean she herself brings the danger, but she tells them that their time is up. Repeatedly, she tells the Batch that they aren't safe even on Pabu. Which means that Pabu is gonna go down next week *cue sad yaying*. Even the lighting this episode signified doom. Pabu is shrouded in fog and the only light we see is from a sunset, indicating the end of the Batch's peace and safety.

Speaking of the Batch, they really do share one braincell and even then, it's usually with Echo. It's so awesome to see them work together again in combat. And we got to hear their theme again!! It was so triumphant and such a great moment! I know we'll hear it again, but this was such a good moment. I love that most of their moments were them just watching out for Omega. I know we all joke about the Jango Fett Mandalorian dad genes, but it's so true. Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair love their sister so much. Every time Cross was like "we're not handing her over," I got excited. Omega aside, the smaller moments like Wrecker teasing Crosshair or Wrecker mimicking his brothers were gold.

My favorite moment with the three was when Crosshair threw Hunter and Wrecker's weapons to them. The music went hard and the camaraderie between them is so heartfelt. These brothers will always have each others' backs. (Also, this is the first time we hear Cross call Tech by his name. Tech is still with them, even if it's in their hearts).

And of course there's our sweet bean, Omega. Next week will definitely be about her conflicted over the possibility of being Force Sensitive. It breaks my heart to see her so lost and confused. The Batch can try and help, but they're so out of their depth. I honestly think Omega will go back to Tantiss simply to see if she is capable of using the Force. There are so many questions about her identity. Why was she created? Why is she so important? I know a lot of people now think that she will off with Ventress in the finale if we do get a confirmation that she is force sensitive. Honestly, I hope she stays with her brothers. If they kill the Batch off, then I can see the Ventress end working, but I really hope that's not the case.

I wonder how the Empire will find Pabu. They could get really lucky, find a bounty hunter to track them, or even have a brainwashed Tech. I know the theory about Cross having a tracker or something was popular, but if that was true, then the Empire would've already descended upon them. Maybe Palpatine finds them through the Force; that I would believe. Either way, it will be very angsty and Pabu is doomed. But what do you guys think?

Anyways, that's all I have for now. Let's all prepare mentally for next week. Our little family is gonna need all the therapy and support they can get.

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb omega #asajj ventress #tbb spoilers

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moonlight-prose · 1 year

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HURT

➝ 02. ONLY ONES WHO KNOW

a/n: i am in deep for this man and it's only the second week of his show. not sure how i'll survive the rest of it. what did y'all think of episode 2? so, the story continues and i finally get to delve in a bit deeper on the relationship between these two. something i'm incredibly excited about. look out for some drabbles/interludes coming soon regarding this story. thanks for all the lovely comments on the last chapter. i'm glad you're all enjoying it!

summary: for days you traveled with a man you barely knew. until you finally gain the courage to ask him about the watch on his wrist.

word count: 4.7k+

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: not explicit yet but still 18+, cussing, violence, gore, angst, blood, tw death, gratuitous prose about the apocalypse setting, slow burn, tw food consumption.

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Silence filled the space between you, filling the void of what was never there. You’d been walking together for days, taking paths here and there through unknown streets and abandoned towns. It seemed that when Joel made the offer for you to accompany him, he simply meant he’ll show you the way. He wouldn’t be your friend, your buddy as you walked, hell he would barely even talk, and for a while you accepted that.

You kept yourself busy by looking at the scenery, digging through empty buildings for useful things, and fighting off the odd infected that still remained. For the first three days you told yourself that neither of you would stick around long enough to know the other. Eventually, you’d part ways. Meaning you would be alone once more. So what was the point of learning meaningless information, that would do nothing to help either of your situations

By the fourth day you were slowly losing your mind with just small worded responses, and questions that still hung in the air—frozen against the time that passed. You weren’t sure how long it would take to get to Boston. Shit you weren’t even sure where you were now, having crossed through town after town without ever finding a name or sign. All that would remain of them in your memory was the sight of the decay. Of the buildings slowly losing the remnant of a lifeless humanity that remained—nature overtaking what was rightfully hers.

You’d seen it everywhere. The brutalization of the apocalypse coming to full fruition before your very eyes. With humanity gone, the world could finally heal. You could recall learning about the fall of humanity in school; professors talked about what the world might look like once everyone disappeared. Would the world fall to pieces from the destruction humans caused, or would it adapt?

You never used to see it that way though. Never thought that nature was healing, so much as it was taking over. There was a time where you could remember hating the world—wishing for its ultimate demise. You wanted it all to end. Life, death…time. You didn’t care which one went first, as long as it took you with them.

But now that the years had passed and you’d finally grown up, you could see what you didn’t catch before. You were still alive…somehow. Yet still the pain remained. The grief that you tried so hard to forget about was stored inside your bag, carried around with each trudging step you continued to make in silence.

Silence had been your only companion for some time now, and you were thoroughly exhausted of its company.

Perhaps that’s why you eventually broke down and asked him the question that made him close himself off.

It was a reaction you never expected to happen. One that left you wracking your mind for what you could have said that made this journey even more uncomfortable.

“Where did you get your watch?”

You had asked him as you ate dinner—or at least a makeshift meal of something he killed. The fire crackled in the night air, creating warmth you hadn’t enjoyed in awhile. Reminding you of late nights in your childhood home. The fireplace emitting the soft warmth that lulled you to sleep on the couch. Before you could stop and think about it, you’d simply asked him—thinking it would start a small conversation.

Only for the question to hang in the air like the deafening silence. Each minute ticked by just a little bit slower because of it. You watched his entire body stiffen, his jaw twitching as he stopped chewing his food, and stared into the fire. The man you thought you knew as Joel, disappeared before your very eyes.

It was an honest question. One that usually created small talk. Except you couldn’t help but think that you’d fucked up in a big way once the words left your mouth. You’d seen him fiddle with the watch before. Tracing his finger along the wristband, touching the broken glass that still remained. You had half a mind to ask why he still wore it if it was broken. But then you realized…if you had something left from your old life—you’d keep it with you too.

Even if it stopped working.

The sun began to dip below the horizon again, bathing the small forest area you were currently traveling through, in darkness. Eventually you’d have to stop for the night, find a place that both of you deemed safe enough, but Joel seemed intent on continuing. The past few days he stopped before the sun began to dip below the trees. However, today he seemed different. Off. You didn’t want to blame your question on his actions that resembled a lost man simply putting one foot in front of the other, but you knew it had to be the cause.

So, you stopped walking. The small hideout was covered with larger rocks, creating a makeshift sitting area. You wondered if people used this before—thinking they could survive in the woods as the cities were torn apart.

It took him a minute to realize the echo of your footsteps didn’t follow his, forcing him to turn. A look remained in his eyes that told you everything you needed to know. He was lost. Though his expression was empty, he couldn’t hide the dazed glint in his eyes.

“We can’t stop here,” he said gruffly, his voice rough from not being used.

You shrugged, dropping your bag to the ground and starting to button up your coat. “You’re exhausted, I’m hungry, and there’s nothing we can do in the dark.”

“I’m not—” he started, his eyebrows pulling together.

“You know how to use a bow and arrow right?”

He watched you dig up the archaic weapon you both found in an abandoned house a day ago. Joel didn’t question why you picked it up, figuring that you knew how to use it. When in reality, you simply grabbed it in case it would come in handy. Weapons weren’t your forte. You barely learned how to shoot a fucking gun the right way. But he looked like he knew enough to use the weapon with ease; hopefully it would assist both of you in hunting down something larger to eat.

“If you didn’t know how to use it, why did you take it?”

Tracing the design on the side of the arrow with your eyes, you stepped away from the small hideout, heading towards the thicket of trees that were ahead of you. “Figured you knew how to use it,” you called over your shoulder. “Thought you might need another weapon.”

He didn’t respond, but he did follow you. The crunch of leaves underneath his boots, reverberating off the trees. If you weren’t careful you would attract something that neither of you would be able to outrun. You knew his bullets were too important to use hunting wise, but arrows could be reused if they stayed intact. Or at least you hoped that’s what would happen.

“We’ll need to go further out,” he said, walking past you and quickly taking the lead, his gun still strapped to his shoulder—his bag back with yours.

Once again, you walked in silence. Conversation didn’t seem to come easy to him you noticed, and rather than push him into talking, you allowed him to start it off. After the question, you knew that stepping where you didn’t belong wasn’t the best choice with Joel. He was reserved. Far more than you. His past would remain a mystery—you were okay with that—but it seemed he didn’t want to share anything other than hunting tips and small words shared over a meal.

He headed towards a small cliff, his eyes scanning the area for animals. Over the years, you’d seen hunters before. Been privy to how they worked, how they killed. They held an animalistic quality to their movements that reminded you too much of the infected. They killed as if they enjoyed it. You had killed yourself, but Joel was different. He moved like a predator, taking in his surroundings with a careful and analytical gaze. You noticed it while walking with him, watched him take note of everything that could be used as a weapon and every place he could hide.

Joel was a survivor, that much remained clear to you. He was dangerous beneath the surface. And you wondered how much he had to endure to get to this point. What had he seen or even done to stay alive as the world crumpled at his feet? You figured you’d never know the truth, and perhaps it was better that way.

What was the point of knowing this man? By the time you reached Boston, you would go your separate ways—following different paths in order to remain alive and somewhat human. You didn’t want to see his humanity, witness his vulnerabilities, because that would make parting so much harder.

What was the point in growing attached when eventually…time would tear you apart in the end anyways?

“You know what you’re doing with that?” he asked, breaking you out of your thoughts. Thankfully he ignored the fact that your gaze was trained on him.

Nodding, you notched the arrow in place, attempting to pull it back and aim well enough to make the shot. “Easy,” you replied, hearing the slight shake in your voice.

Fuck the nerves. You’ve killed before. Taken life from animals and people alike, but never like this. A gun had always been your preferred weapon, due to its easy nature, and you hated that Joel could see that. All you ever had to do before was aim and pull a trigger, but this called for something more. A skill you didn’t have in your arsenal.

He shook his head subtly, standing to his full height as you struggled with the weapon—your arms shaking beneath the strain of keeping the position.

“Relax,” he said, his hand settling on your tense shoulders. “You’ll hurt yourself if you do it this way.”

Huffing, you tried to listen to his words, forcing your body to release the tension that riddled it. “I told you I don’t know how to use this.”

“No, you didn’t.” If you turned your head you would have caught the small hint of a grin forming on his lips. “Lift your elbow more,” he stated, nudging it with his hand and causing a jolt to go through your arm.

“Like this?” Your words were soft as he shifted your movements with his hands that barely touched you.

Something moved in the distance, the rustling of branches telling you where to aim, but Joel was already way ahead of you. His hand slid over yours, helping you adjust your hold until the arrow went steady—pointing directly where it needed to go. The breath you released was shaky; your nerves showing through clearly enough for him to see. You hoped he had the decency to ignore them. To help you take the shot and move on, but his hand clasped over yours tighter, as if to reassure you.

Whatever existed in the air between you, unspoken and forever silent, worked its way through your body. Until the shake in your arms disappeared and your chest felt lighter.

Once again the rustling echoed in the distance, what you guessed to be a wild rabbit coming out to find food for itself. You didn’t give yourself time to wonder anymore, because Joel was nudging your foot forward with his. Pushing you into a stance that released the pressure you felt on your lower back. Taking in a breath, you felt him release his against the back of your neck, causing your hair to stand straight and chills to spread down your spine.

You wanted to lean into him. Feel his warmth a bit longer, but the animal was getting closer—your window closing with each passing second.

“You see it?” he murmured, head nodding in its direction.

“Yeah…I see it.”

Taking in a breath, you felt him guide your arm, the arrow in position, before you let it go. You could have sworn time slowed down as it flew through the air. Its movements, soundless amidst the echo of nature that resounded through the area. With bated breath, you watched it soar until it hit its mark with a thud—the animal collapsing into the brush. Dead.

Laughing, you dropped your arm and half expected him to shift away from you, but he remained. His hand, still clutching onto yours with a gentler touch. Rather than pull away, you allowed him to stand there—his breath brushing along your neck softly every few seconds. Neither of you spoke. Too afraid of breaking whatever this was, of losing the small comfort of his touch.

Eventually you would have to collect the rabbit and things would go back to the semblance of normal that came before. But for now…you weren’t two survivors. You weren’t on the brink of losing to the fear, giving into the idea of a quick death. For those small minutes, you were a woman being touched by a man.

You were human again.

“Good job,” he said, pulling away entirely and allowing the cold air to envelop you again.

You wondered if he felt it. The speed of your heartbeat, the longing that caused an ache to spread throughout your body. Did he long for touch too? Or had he cut himself off from that? You wanted to know the answer, but asking him questions never went well with you. So you stood there, watching him walk down the cliff and towards the animal whose life would sustain yours for just a bit longer.

That was the irony of the apocalypse. No matter how much you tried to escape it, death would remain.

Whether good or bad, it would forever be the only constant in this world.

The fire crackled in the night air. You watched as sparks floated up to the sky before being extinguished by oxygen. The sight made you smile, bringing you back to childhood memories of camping and college nights sitting at bonfires. You remembered fire being contiguous to joy, small moments of peace that came before the pain.

It was pure, a way to end the infection, but also a way to sustain life. So, you relished in it, sitting on ground beside your bag as Joel worked with the rabbit. He claimed that it needed to be cooked and eaten so you could move on—the smell attracting not just infected, but larger animals that might have survived too. You took his word as the truth, assisting him by bringing the fire to life and setting it in a makeshift pit.

“Where’d you learn to do this?” he asked, setting up the rabbit over the flames.

You grinned, pushing a piece of wood in closer. “He speaks,” you joked.

“When he needs to.” He didn’t smile, didn’t offer you anything other than the small retort, but you took it nonetheless.

“My brother. He used to be a Marine.” You pushed around the brush beneath the wood. “He’d always tell me that I needed to know two things. How to defend myself and how to build a fire. Somehow I was always better at building the fire.”

He didn’t comment, didn’t need to. You saw the way he listened to you, his eyes flickering back and forth from the fire before landing back on you. The moon hung low in the sky, the light from it illuminating the area around you, but the fire illuminated him. Casting shadows across his face and deepening the growing lines that were barely beginning to show with his age. You never asked how old he was—didn’t feel the need to—but now as you gazed at him, you wondered.

“I’m sorry about before,” you admitted, tearing your eyes away from him.

“Sorry ‘bout what?”

A crack echoed in the air as the wood snapped in two, falling to the ground and catching onto the brush.

“I shouldn’t have asked about your watch.” Once again he averted his attention elsewhere, turning the rabbit and avoiding your gaze. After a moment, you figured pushing past it was your best option. So you opted for something different. “What’s your name?”

He glanced up, eyebrows furrowing. “You know my name.”

“No, I mean your full name.”

“Hm.” He shifted, stretching his leg out. “Miller’s my last name.”

Your lips pulled up, teeth digging into your bottom lip. “Joel…Miller. It’s nice.”

He huffed slightly, almost a laugh but not quite. “What’s yours?”

“Hm.” You mused, glancing at the fire that ate away at the wood.

Your full name fell from your lips, foreign sounding to your ears after years of never hearing it. At times you felt like a myth that no one could remember—a forgotten deity with no name to hold as your own. When he repeated it, the sound curling around his tongue and filling your stomach with warmth, you knew you wanted to hear him say it again.

If only to remember who you used to be for a brief moment longer.

He used his knife to tear off pieces of meat, handing it to you quickly before it cooled off. The small gesture reminded you of the people you used to survive with. How they’d make sure everyone got enough to eat, handing off the food with a smile; the kindness in their hearts, extinguished at the first pull of a trigger. You wanted to remember them with the same nostalgia as your old life, but there was nothing to be had there.

“Where’s your brother now?” Joel asked, interrupting your train of memories.

A sour feeling spread through your stomach, your chest tightening with each intake of breath. While normally, you’d forgo answering questions about your past, it seemed only fair this time.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, digging your teeth into the meat and chewing slowly, savoring its flavor. “I uh…I managed to get out of Boston before they bombed the place. Made it home to see him gone.”

He stayed quiet, giving you room to continue if you wanted to. You should have stopped there, having answered his question with the truth, but after so long of sitting in your grief—it begged you to spill free.

“I had a mom too,” you said, staring at the orange glow of the flames. “I thought I’d find her when I got back. I mean she raised a man to become a Marine so she obviously must have known how to fight.” The breath felt heavy in your lungs, the sting of tears burning your eyes. “She was dead when I got there. Didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye,” you finished bitterly, the memory still burned into your mind.

If you could go back you would in a heartbeat. If only to have a chance to speak to her again, to tell her all the things you left unsaid. The world fell to shit faster than anyone expected—the virus spreading too quickly to give you enough time. So, you remained with what little you could still remember about her—hoping it would be enough in the end.

Joel didn’t respond. He simply stared at his watch, his thumb brushing along the face of it tenderly. You almost didn’t want him to say anything. For the first time in days, you were okay with sitting in silence with him. Content to simply stare at the fire, finish your meal, and go on your way. You knew that if he spoke, if he answered your question, there’d be no going back…for either of you.

“Her name was Sarah,” he said, eyes not meeting yours and body rigid. The words made you freeze, eyes trained on his silhouette that the shadows played along.

You didn’t ask who she was, what she meant to him, because you knew he wouldn’t tell you either way. He said her name, and answered your question in his own way. It occurred to you that you were the only ones who knew each other's secret weight of grief and that was enough for you. Taking his words with a nod, you continued to eat until you finished off what he gave you; your stomach finally full after so long.

The smell of smoke filled your senses as you fought against the wave of exhaustion that riddled your body. You couldn’t sleep here. Not when the threat of infected remained dangerous in the woods. Although you weren’t sure what the fuck they’d be doing in the middle of nowhere anyways. They couldn’t survive here.

You weren’t sure how much time passed before you decided to lay down, your head propped up on your bag. The floor was uncomfortable; the rocks digging into your spine were the only thing keeping you awake, but you made do.

“What I wouldn’t give for some vodka,” you said, staring at the stars in the sky, trying to catch sight of some familiar constellations.

Joel scoffed, the sound still unfamiliar to your ears. “I’m more of a whiskey man myself.”

“Oh yeah? Where are you from?”

“Texas,” he replied, his southern drawl thicker as if to emphasize his point.

You snorted, staring at the moon. “Should’ve known with the way you can fucking shoot.”

The fire would die down soon enough, leaving the both of you to freeze. Yet that didn’t stop you from settling further into your position, in an attempt to find a comfortable spot. You missed the bed from a few days ago—how it was so soft beneath your body. So normal after the hell you’d been through. But you knew if you two had stayed there, you’d be left to deal with the consequences that were sure to come.

“Do you think they’ve got alcohol in Boston?” you blurted out, feeling your eyes grow heavy.

He sighed, shifting his movements until his back was pressed up against the boulder. “Don’t know. I hope so.”

“What else do you like Texas?”

“Ha ha,” he drawled, his eyes falling shut. “I used to own a guitar.”

That perked you up a bit. “Don’t tell me you can sing?”

“I can’t sing.”

“Shit,” you whispered. “A girl can dream.”

“What about you Boston?” You could have sworn you heard a smile in his voice.

You smirked. “Ha ha.” Crossing your arms, you did your best to fight sleep, knowing if something happened you needed to be ready to run. “I used to have a record collection my mom started for me as a kid.” He hummed, his eyes still shut. “Nothing you would have listened to since you probably like country music.”

His foot tapped your arm, bringing out a peal of laughter from your chest that was most likely caused by the delirium of your sleeplessness. The last time you got some rest was a few days ago in that house. Even if you wanted to fight against it, you knew you’d pass out regardless—leaving the both of you vulnerable to any attacks. You reasoned that an hour or two wouldn’t hurt and before you could question the feeling in your gut, you were gone.

Falling into the arms of exhaustion that beckoned you closer. Promising a safe haven of a dark void without pain.

“Boston. Wake up.” Someone shaking your shoulders, jolted you awake. Your eyes flew open, hand going to the gun on your side. Only to see Joel crouching over you—the morning sun barely coming up above the trees.

You groaned, head falling back against your bag. “There’s a nicer way of waking people up, you know. A good morning—”

His hand slapped over your mouth, fingers curling around your jaw to snap it shut as he raised a finger to his lips. Fear filled your body, the cold wash of anxiety spreading down your spine as you sat up slowly. His eyes were hard, expression mimicking his emotions. The longer you stared at him, the more you realized that the man you met had returned—the hunter who was ruthless when need be.

Before you could ask him what was going on, you heard it. The familiar chilling screech of an infected. Your body jolted, eyes going wide before you slowly reached for the gun and pulled it into your lap.

Joel nodded, letting go of your jaw before gesturing with his hand to follow him as he crouched behind the rocks. You had half a mind to ask what the fuck one of those things was doing all the way out here, but figured neither of you knew the answer. Both of you were bound to run into another one sooner or later. From the sound of it, you could tell it was a runner.

Probably some poor bastard who was out trying to survive on their own. A flash of sympathy shot through your heart, before you loaded a bullet into the chamber of your gun.

“We need to go around,” he said lowly, his gun at the ready—bow and arrow strapped across his back.

“Can’t we just kill it?”

He shook his head, slowly shifting around the rock. “There might be more than one.”

“Shit.” Exhaling, you nodded at him to move, ready to run if you had to.

Standing to your full height with him, you caught sight of the infected staggering around the forest. They were barely turned, the fungus not even grown out of its body yet. Which meant that they were fast, able to chase if they caught sight of you and Joel. Holding your breath, you crept around the trees with your weapon at the ready—the nerves now prominent in your racing heart.

Neither of you spoke, too afraid of catching its attention, but it was too late. Before you could pull him back, Joel’s boot landed on a stick, snapping it in two. The sound bounced off the trees—a terrifying stillness accompanying it, and for a moment you thought maybe you both got lucky. Maybe it didn’t hear.

Until it screeched, whipping around to see you and him standing there, guns at the ready.

Joel loaded his shotgun, pointing it at the runner, but it launched its body at him, taking him to the ground in a tackle. You heard Joel shout, his arm slamming against the thing’s throat to block a bite. Only you knew that wouldn’t work. Grabbing the fallen gun, you pointed it quickly, took the best aim you could, and pulled the trigger. It went off with a loud bang, blood splattering on the dirty floor. The gun slammed into your shoulder, nearly toppling you over, but you held steady as Joel pushed himself free. His head falling to the forest floor.

While he caught his breath, you surveyed the area for signs of more of them. But the forest remained silent. You must not be far from a city or town for one of those things to find you all the way out here. Thankfully it was only a runner and not something far worse. You’d heard the stories, knew what else resided in the darkness, and hoped that you’d never have to meet it.

“Not bad Boston,” he rasped.

You shrugged. “I had a good teacher,” you said, offering your hand to pull him up. He groaned as he stood, wiping the leaves off his pants. “Hey Joel.”

His eyes met yours—a flash of something you guessed to be concern going through them. “Yeah?”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

For the first time in days you saw his lips pull up into a smile, his laugh hitting your ears and sending that familiar and welcome heat through your body.

“Good idea,” he replied, taking the shotgun back.

This time, you took the lead. Heading further into the trees with him following close behind. The sun continued to rise in the distance, morning finally greeting what remained of the world. All the while your brain replayed his laugh, the sound deep and raspy just like his voice, yet…more. You found that you wanted to hear him laugh again. Wanted to know what he sounded like when he was happy, but that you’d probably never get to witness it again.

Maybe in another life, you reasoned to yourself and that thought alone was good enough for you.

For now.

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #the last of us fic #the last of us #my writing

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