#idk man i’m just trying to survive out here but i don’t feel like i’m doing a good job except for when i do | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wintrwinchestr · 20 days

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an overture of indulgence (joel miller x f!reader oneshot) 18+

summary: it's been a long time since you've seen joel, and some things have changed, but a lot has stayed the same. namely, how quickly he can still get you on his knees for him, ready to show him exactly just how much you like what has changed about him.

warnings: 18+, smut, post-outbreak, jackson joel, d/s relationship dynamics, pet names (baby, babygirl, sweetheart, sweet girl, etc), body worship, belly kink, talk of weight gain, belly riding, m/f masturbation, lil bit of humiliation kink, lil bit of edging, reader is an adult but age otherwise unspecified, reader is shorter than joel and has hair long enough to grab, let me know if i missed anything :)

word count: 4.3k

a/n: just fuckin outing myself left and right these days huh. idk what came over me with this one. started this late last night and here it is now. belly enjoyers rise!!!!!!! nice comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed <3 you can't kink shame me bc i like getting bullied so now what. also i avoided daddy kink for once in my life please clap. i know i’m spoiling y’all this weekend don’t get used to it.

divider by @saradika

“...Joel?!” you shout, your leisurely walking pace quickly turning into a hurried jog as you leave Tommy behind, making a beeline toward the man you would swear on your life is Joel Miller. A small handful of years ago now, he was kind of your boyfriend, kind of not, kind of something else more complicated and unlabeled, because who can afford to put a label on anything in times like these?

Joel’s head turns in your direction at the sound of his name, and as soon as you spot that crooked scar across the bridge of his nose, you’re certain it’s him.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe it,” you half-cry, throwing your weight into him as you wrap him in a tight embrace. He’s much taller than you, but you still managed to knock him off his balance a little. He envelops your whole body in one of his signature, all-encompassing hugs, and it’s like no time has passed at all.

The two of you had ended whatever it was you had on good terms, no hard feelings or animosity shared between you. It was just hard to maintain any kind of relationship in a world like this, and trying to nurture romance in the Boston QZ was much like trying to grow a rose garden in toxic, radioactive soil. You can put as much care and effort and something like love into it as you have in you, but the circumstances will just never allow it to reach its full potential. The end of your “relationship” was mutual, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Especially when he had disappeared one day without so much as saying goodbye.

When you had stumbled upon Tommy and a group of patrollers in the snowy forest outside Jackson just earlier today, you were alone, tired, and losing hope that this rumored safe haven even existed at all. You had heard crackles through the radio in the QZ about the community, and even though it sounded too good to be true, what else did you have to lose anymore? After months of travel and survival and pain and hunger, you’d never been so happy to meet a bunch of strangers in the woods in your whole life. You didn’t hesitate to get on the back of Tommy’s horse, and let him lead you to the sanctuary they spoke of.

As he was giving you a tour, proudly showing off their electricity, running water, fresh food, and clean houses, you had started to look forward to what the future may bring, for the first time in a long time. You could never have imagined you’d ever run into Joel again, that this is where he had ended up, of all places. And now here the both of you are, bodies pressed as tightly together as possible, breathing in each other’s familiar scents and never wanting to let go again.

Joel is the first to break the embrace, grasping your head in his large hands and frantically searching your face for any sign that he could be dreaming, that fate hasn’t really brought you back together again after all.

“Jesus Christ, it’s really you,” he breathes, and you swear his voice breaks just a little bit as he presses his lips to your forehead, closing his eyes as he does.

When he blinks them open again, he meets Tommy’s gaze, who’s standing quietly a few yards back from where you’re having your sentimental reunion. Tommy gives an understanding nod, and gestures that he’ll be waiting inside the community’s dining hall, gathering that whatever this is happening between his brother and some girl he only just met, he shouldn’t interrupt. Joel is grateful for many things today, one of them being the rekindled bond he has with Tommy, the other being how you somehow miraculously found your way back to him.

Small groups of other Jackson residents follow Tommy into the dining hall shortly afterward, and as the sun begins to set behind the mountains, Joel realizes it must be about time for dinner to be served.

He detaches his lips from your forehead, brushing some of your hair away from your face as he takes you in again. “You poor thing, must be starvin’ I bet,” he wonders aloud, giving you a sympathetic look.

“Kinda always am, just as a rule, but yeah,” you reply, trying to make light of your situation. Though, Joel doesn’t seem to find the humor in it the way you do.

“Long as you stay here, ain’t ever gotta worry about that again, that’s for damn sure.” He runs his tongue across his lips as he finishes his sentence, already knowing that whatever meal they’re serving tonight, it’ll be some of the most delicious food he’s had in a long time. He suspects you’ll feel much the same. “C’mon, let’s get you inside. Get you warm and fed for once in your life.”

–

Your heart, your stomach, your soul, all feel full as you relax into the comfortable couch in the living room of Joel’s cozy home. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea of you staying in an empty house all by yourself tonight, insisting that if you’d like some company while you settle in, you were more than welcome to his. He had let you spend as long as you wanted to in his shower, and he didn’t mind if there was hardly any warm water left by the time you were done. He sure as hell wasn’t paying the bill, and you deserved to feel truly clean. He can remember clear as day how he felt after his first Jackson shower, like he had stripped off a layer of grime he hadn’t been able to scrub all the way clean in twenty years. He had gone to Maria to get you some clothes and underwear while you were bathing, and set them silently on the sink counter for you to put on whenever you were done.

And now here you sit, feeling full and clean and satisfied and comfortable and safe, watching Joel stoke the logs in his fireplace as it casts the whole room in a honey orange glow. You take a moment to admire him while he isn’t looking, and even in the dim and flickering lighting, you can see he’s just as handsome as he was the last time you saw him. He looks older, with more gray in his longer hair and meat on his bones, the latter trait likely due to years worth of the hearty cooking you both indulged in tonight. He looks… good like this.

“It really is nice to see you again, you know. You look…” you start, not being able to help the way your eyes wander to his soft lower belly, the way it pushes taut against his tucked-in flannel shirt and just barely spills over the edge of his jeans.

He turns his head away from the fire to face you. You’re not very subtle in your staring, and he knows what you’re referring to right away. He huffs a light chuckle, trying to brush off the way he thinks you’re poking fun at him.

“I know, I know,” he acknowledges, placing a hand on his stomach. “Been tryin’ to get Maria to give me some more patrol shifts, see if I can get some of the weight off. But hey, you try havin’ three square meals a day for the first time in twenty some odd years, see what it does to you, huh?” He pivots his attention back to the fireplace, and he seems to turn his body further away from you on purpose, so that you can’t see the round profile of his tummy as much.

“No! No, it, um… It suits you. I was gonna say you look good, actually.” You’re quick in your reply, trying to make it clear that you didn’t mean to offend him, without letting too much on.

He scoffs. “C’mon, you don’t gotta flatter me, sweetheart. I know I don’t exactly look the way you remember–”

“Joel, will you stop?” you interrupt, your voice laced with exasperation. “I’m being serious. Do I look like I’m making fun of you?”

He cranes his neck to look back at where you’re perched on the couch, and gives you a once over. “Guess not… Look a lil’ like somethin’ else, though, if I'm bein’ honest,” he says with a teasing smirk. And there he is again, the same quick-witted Joel you remember from back in the QZ.

You choose to engage in his banter, just to see where he’s going with it. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

He shrugs, beginning to mindlessly poke at the firewood again. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look like you might like it.”

He’s just kidding around with you, trying to rile you up, you’re sure. But when he gets silence in return instead of the sound of you jumping to defend yourself with another playful jab, he turns to face you once more, and is met with your stunned expression.

“Oh…” Joel looks down at himself, then back to you again, just in time to catch your eyes flitting from his middle back up to his face. “What, you like ‘em big, sweetheart? ‘S that it?”

The truth is, you do, you always have. It was never a requirement, of course, as the guys you’d been with before Joel all had varying body types. But you’d be lying to yourself if you said that your eyes didn’t linger just a bit longer on guys with a little more to them, with wider arms and thicker legs and a softer middle. You’ve never admitted your preference to anyone before, and Joel calling you out on it now has your face running hot, skin feeling prickly as he sees through you like you’re made of glass.

“I-I don’t– I mean, I do, kinda, but not like that… Well, it is like that, I just mean–” You stumble over yourself, fearing you’ve revealed too much, wishing you could rewind the conversation and just tell him it was nice to see him again, plain and simple.

Joel lays the fire poker down on the granite ledge of the fireplace, approaching where you’re sitting and cupping the side of your face with his calloused hand.

“Sh, sh, stop, baby. ‘S alright if you do, nothin’ to be ashamed of,” he comforts, and it takes all the willpower you have left not to let your eyes drift down to his stomach, so close you could kiss it, if he’d let you.

“It’s just… I missed you. I thought about you all the time, wondered what ever happened to you after you left. Didn’t even know if you were alive until today. I’m just happy to see you… doing so well. To see that you’re healthy, and everything.” You swallow hard, hoping you sound convincing enough that he’ll let this go, forget all about your little admission just now. But of course, Joel is as stubborn as he’s ever been, and he doesn’t plan on releasing you from his trap now that you’re ensnared in it.

“That’s sweet, baby, ‘s real sweet,” Joel says, softly, stroking his thumb across your cheekbone as he speaks. “Thought about you too, all this time. Practically every day…” He rakes his eyes over you, noticing the way his touch has you starting to melt already, how you’re looking up at him with your wide, needy eyes. “Why don’t you show me just how much you missed me, hm? How much you love seein’ me healthy, as you put it.”

You’re stunned into silence once again, jaw slack and pupils wide as you search his gaze for proof that he’s just messing with you, making fun of you just to watch you squirm. But you don’t find any.

“O-okay,” you agree in a half-whisper.

Joel smiles down at you, satisfied. “All these years later, still just the sweetest thing, ain’t you? You still just as obedient, too?”

You nod without even thinking, words catching up with your instinctual response a second later. “Mhm, yeah, I am…” You had forgotten how easy it is to submit to him, how good it feels to let the hypnotizing tone of his voice carry you somewhere far away from yourself, when you need it the most. Whether it was after a shitty day of working for shittier rations in the QZ, or after a harsh trek in harsher weather to a forested oasis, Joel always knows how to make you feel like submission is your most natural state.

“Good… Kneel for me please, sweetheart,” he commands, and you obey immediately, his hand slipping from your face as you slide from the couch onto the woven carpet beneath you. Like second nature, your hands automatically fold themselves on your lap, remembering how you were never to touch Joel until he permitted you to. He takes note of this, and praises you accordingly. “Look at that, didn’t even have to ask. Such a good girl.”

He’s so enamored with you, he almost forgets where he was going with this until he watches your eyes flash to the growing bulge in his jeans, then back up to him. “Not tonight, sweetheart. Was thinkin’ you could put that pretty mouth to use on somethin’ different this time, hm?”

You knit your brows together, not sure what he means, but he doesn’t let you wonder for long. Slowly, he starts to unbutton his flannel shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. He tosses it onto the ground, then pulls his undershirt off over his head, adding it to the other discarded clothing. Without the confines of his slightly-too-tight button-up, you can see how much he really has filled out. Everything about his upper body is just a little more plush, with petal pink stretch marks adorning the soft skin in various places. You want to make it your personal mission to kiss each and every one of them, commit their exact coordinates on his body to memory.

There's a deep scar, you notice, to the left of his belly button, that has almost successfully disguised itself as one of those pretty marks. It’s definitely new since you saw him last, and it looks like it hurt, especially with the evidence of how crudely it had been stitched back together.

“What happened?” you wonder aloud, worried eyes glued to the healed injury.

He has to peer over the curve of his belly to see what you’re looking at. “Long story. Happened on my way out here, after I left Boston. Nothin’ for you to worry about, sweet girl, hardly even hurt. Forget it’s even there, most of the time,” he answers, still with a dominant edge to his voice that does a mostly good job of convincing you it’s the truth.

“Can… Can I?” you ask, waiting to receive his permission before you move your hands from your lap.

“Yeah, baby, go ahead,” Joel allows.

You reach out a small hand to gently trace over the raised scar, then press your lips to it with your hands splayed out on either side of your head, just barely pressing into his belly. He releases a soft groan, cradling the back of your head with one of his hands, applying the lightest amount of pressure to let you know this is where he wants to keep you.

“Why don’t you keep goin’, sweetheart? Gimme some more lovin’ like that, know you wanna,” he encourages, and you think you get the idea now, what it is he wanted to put your pretty mouth to use for.

With his explicit permission to continue, you don’t need telling twice. You move your face to hover just in front of his belly button, admiring the dense salt and pepper happy trail that sprouts from where his jeans push into his soft skin. You drag your tongue along the hair, nipping at the soft curve of where it disappears into the divot in his stomach. He makes a noise in response, half pained and half pleasured, but he doesn’t stop you. Just for good measure, you place a kiss to the little blushing mark where your teeth had scraped him.

Almost of their own volition, it seems, your hands begin to knead at his stomach as you make good on your promise to yourself to kiss every single one of his stretch marks. You allow your tongue to dart from your mouth on the last one, and Joel sucks in a breath.

“Oh, fuck. Forgot how good that wet lil’ mouth feels on me, sweetheart. Keep goin’,” he says, voice coming out strained. His fingers curl tightly into your hair, and he begins to maneuver your face around his belly. You lave your tongue over his skin as he does, slicking him with wet, sloppy kisses. “Yeah, baby, you fuckin’ worship it, show me how much you like me like this.”

It’s a little humiliating, but just enough that you like the feeling. You’re breathing hard and fast, letting out little whimpers as your fluttering cunt begins to soak your underwear. He brings your face to a stop at the most tantalizing part of him, the part that truly evidences how much more he’s allowed himself to indulge since settling in Jackson. The ample curve of flesh that just barely conceals the waistband of his jeans, the part you’ve wanted to get your mouth on since you first saw how it strained the lower buttons of his shirt. You latch onto it, massaging the skin around it as you use your teeth and tongue to suck a mark into him.

A growl rumbles from deep in his chest, and he curses under his breath. “Like it that much, huh? Fuck, naughty thing, look at you.”

You’re so fucking turned on, you’re shivering, rocking where you kneel and squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to get some kind of relief. You let one of your hands drift to the hard shape in Joel’s jeans, and it seems he’s enjoying this as much as you are. He spots your pathetic little squirms as you rut against nothing, and then he’s using his grip on your hair to pull you up from the floor.

“Got an idea. Up,” he commands roughly, and you detach your lips from his belly to obey his order. “Get these off, there we go.” He pulls down your sweatpants and underwear, helping you step out of them. “Christ, you’re soaked,” Joel teases, eyeing the sizable wet spot in your panties as he tosses them aside to join the other forgotten clothing. He reaches a hand toward the apex of your thighs, teasing your wet pussy and gathering some of your slick on two of his fingers. You let out a tiny yelp, but let him play with you, and then he’s bringing his fingers in front of his face and examining the sticky strings of your arousal when he spreads them apart. “All this just from lettin’ you worship all this, huh?” he taunts, patting his stomach once for emphasis. “Who’d’ve thought? Not that I’m complainin’...”

He quickly rids himself of his jeans and briefs, then reclines onto the couch with a quiet groan, stretching out his body along the length of it. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking as it bobs against his belly, his precum adding to the dampness still there from your tongue. “Come sit, sweetheart,” Joel says, softly, motioning with both of his hands for you to come closer.

You grip a hand onto the backrest of the couch to balance yourself while you move to straddle him, prepared to sink down onto his length for the first time in way too fucking long. “Uh uh, not there, baby,” he instructs, smirking when he sees how you hesitate in confusion. “Take a seat right here for me.” Again, he pats that most tempting area of his lower belly, and you just about fall apart at the sight of how his flesh ripples in the wake of it.

“Yeah, there you go, good girl,” he praises, both hands gripping your waist as he helps you settle your weight onto his soft abdomen.

“I dunno, don’t wanna hurt you–” you start, but he cuts you off swiftly.

“You won’t, baby. I’m a big man, ain’t I?” he teases, flashing you a devilish and knowing smile. “Go on, sweetheart, ride it.”

You inhale a shuddering breath, then place both of your hands on his shoulders to hold yourself up. You start an experimental buck into his belly, and that trail of dark hair tickles your clit so perfectly. It takes a few tries for you to get the positioning and pressure just right, and then you’re truly riding him, using his full stomach to get yourself off while he watches.

“God, that’s good. Use it, baby. You love me bigger, love that I’ve been eatin’ so good, prove it to me, c’mon,” Joel goads, and it spurs you on to grind against him harder, faster, as incoherent mumbles and curses tumble from your lips.

“Love it, Joel, you look so good, fuck. So fucking–mmh–so big, makes me so… so–”

“I know it does, sweet girl, I know. Makes you fuckin’ soaked is what it does, god damn. You gonna get my belly all messy, hm? Gonna rub your lil’ cunt all over it, get me all fuckin’ wet?”

“Uh huh, yeah, gonna… I’m gonna–” you whine, eyes shutting tight as your hips pick up their pace. You move your hands from his shoulders to place them on his stomach instead, grabbing at handfuls of his tummy in an effort to create something more solid to rub yourself against.

You’re already embarrassingly close, the humiliating edge to your earlier worship having gotten you most of the way there on its own. So swollen and sensitive it almost hurts, you won’t need much more to reach your high.

“Not without me, you ain’t. Gonna be right there with ya. You remember how we used to do it?” Joel asks, as if you could ever forget. He’s referring to your many late nights, early mornings, in his bed or in a back alley or wherever in the QZ, where he liked to make sure you both finished at the same time. You’d always be the first one to reach the edge, because he’d focus all his attention on getting you there before him, just to make you wait. It was never something punishing, just something he liked to do as an extra bit of control and dominance, and he knew it always made your orgasms that much more powerful and satisfying when he would finally permit you to let go.

With your eyes closed, so focused on your own pleasure, you hadn’t noticed that he had reached behind you to start fisting his cock some time ago. But you can hear it now, the wet schlick of his hand moving up and down his shaft as he works himself. “Hold it for me, sweetheart, I know you can. Keep rubbin’ your pretty pussy against me, jus’ like that, almost there…”

You mewl, screwing your face up as you force yourself to slow down your thrusts, muscles tense as you try to keep your orgasm at bay for as long as you can.

Thankfully, he must be worked up enough from seeing you fall apart for him so easily for the first time in so long, that his permission comes just a few minutes later.

“Come for me, babygirl, soak my fuckin’ belly, c’mon,” Joel growls, and you fall forward immediately, twitching and spasming and crying out into the soft muscle of his shoulder as you ride out the shuddering shocks of your orgasm. He groans next to your ear as he comes, and you can feel the warm ropes of his own release as some of them land on your lower back. You’re both wet, heaving messes, as you embrace each other for the second time today and work on catching your breath.

So exhausted from the day you had, you must’ve fallen asleep against his chest as you laid there, because then you’re being woken up by the dull scratch of his fingertips against your scalp and his familiar voice working its way through the thick fog that clouds your tired brain.

“You alright, baby?” he asks, and you can hear that he’s smiling, amused at this sleepy little thing he’s got clinging to him.

“Mhm, jus’ tired,” you answer, a barely-there mumble of a sentence.

“I’ll bet… You wanna get cleaned up? Get all tucked into bed?”

You shake your head against his neck, and he chuckles.

“No? Whatcha wanna do then, hm?”

“Jus’ lay here. Missed you. Don’t wanna let… go…”

Your sentence drifts off into silence before the temptation of sleep allows you to finish it, but Joel gets the idea. He smiles to himself, kissing the top of your head, and hugs you closer. Both of you are still sticky and damp, but satisfied. And together again. And that’s a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

So he agrees, and you stay like that for the rest of the night. Joel doesn’t worry about whether or not he remembered to set his alarm clock for his extra patrol shift the next morning, or if he’ll even hear it all the way from his bedroom upstairs, because it doesn’t matter anyway. He has you, and you made it very clear tonight just how much you like him exactly the way he is.

Maybe, your rose garden can finally begin to bloom, now that the pair of you have somewhere safe and comfortable and healthy to try your hand at nurturing it again.

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

#my writing #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #daddy!joel miller #joel miller smut

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futureman · 9 months

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hi idk if u remember me but i literally love u okay anyways

so literally just dbf!joel saying “sweetheart i need you to be quiet” and ”baby i’m gonna cum if you don’t shut up” and maybe covering her mouth at some point 🤭

have a wonderful day and thank u sm for ur time 🙏🏾

hii love, ofc i remember you! tysm for sending this in ♡ accidentally got inspired by my dinner last night, oops. hope you enjoy!!

does your mother know?

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, no outbreak, close family friend!joel, language, smut, rough sex, unprotected piv, age gap, mild exhibitionism, old man joel can't keep it in his pants at family dinner

word count: 1.7k

Friday night dinner wasn’t supposed to go like this.

One hand buried in your hair and the other slapped over your mouth, muffling every moan and sigh you make while Joel fucks you against the sink in the upstairs bathroom of your family home.

He'd arrived late with a charming, drawled apology and immediately made the mistake of taking the seat across from you. If he'd sat literally anywhere else, he might've been able to ignore the perfect curve of your tits in the lowest-cut shirt he'd ever seen you in, or your constant need for the salt and pepper shakers, conveniently placed right in front of his plate.

Every time you leaned over the table, he was reminded of the fact that you’d decided to forgo a bra. Whether that was for his benefit or yours, he was doing his best not to find out.

Not after your parents had taken the time to invite him here, insisting that he eat a home-cooked meal for once, knowing full well he's been surviving off TV dinners ever since Sarah left for college.

“That’s kinda rude of me, huh?” you smiled sheepishly after giving him a particularly revealing peek, but the look that followed was downright sinful. "My bad, I just didn’t wanna keep interrupting your dinner by asking you to pass the salt. Figured it’s been a while since the last time you ate."

And you were right. It had been a while since he’d tasted anything as sweet as you, that satisfied him the way you do, but you already knew that. It’s why you were baiting him—because you know he can’t resist you.

Still, he tried. He really did, but the Southern gentleman in him couldn't refuse dessert or the hefty glass of wine your mom poured after he'd finished helping her clear the table. So, when he'd found himself trapped between your familiar warmth and the armrest of the couch, he should've known there'd be trouble.

When you'd casually gestured a little too widely during the story you were telling and splattered half the glass across his flannel and jeans, he should've gone to the bathroom to treat the stains alone instead of accepting your apologetic offer to help.

He should’ve known better.

But the second your doe eyes lock with his, roving over his body like the lovely dinner your mom made wasn’t nearly enough to fill you up, he realizes he does know better. He just doesn't give a shit.

And that's why you're bent over the sink, taking his cock like you were made for it, and making the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard. You either don’t care enough to stop, regardless of whether your parents can hear you or not, or you’re too blissed out to notice. But he does.

“Sweetheart, I need ya to be quiet,” he grits out tightly, barely audible over his hips slamming into yours and the filthy squelch of your pussy around him. “Don’t want us gettin’ caught, do ya?”

You can’t respond, or even nod, with his hand still held firmly over your mouth, so you whine your acknowledgment into his palm, squeezing your eyes shut as you try your best to do what he asked.

You’re clearly struggling. Those muted, stuttered whimpers grow louder every time he buries himself to the hilt, and he almost wants to remove his hand and let the sounds of your pleasure echo around the room, so everyone in this house knows just how good he’s making his girl feel.

“I know, baby, I know. Feels good, don’t it? S’hard to keep all those pretty noises in when you’re takin’ so much, but I need’ya to try,” his lips graze your ear with each growled word.

Another pained whimper passes your lips through the cracks between his fingers, and he accidentally bucks into you harder than he means to. Christ, he’s never heard you sound like this before. So needy. He shouldn’t, but he wants to hear more. To feel your chest vibrate with it, watch in the mirror as your mouth parts around even just one perfect, drawn-out moan.

The hand buried in your hair trails down your neck, beautifully elongated as your back arches to take him deeper, and snakes around your body. He tugs down the front of your shirt—that flimsy fucking tank top that's been teasing him all night—to cup your breast and, fuck, you like that. Your pussy grips him in response, clenching intermittently while he roughly tweaks your nipple between two calloused fingers.

You’re tight, almost too tight for him to keep up his merciless pace if he wants to last much longer, and so goddamn wet. You’re seeping right into the wine-stained fabric of his jeans, making an even bigger mess than you started with.

“Look at ya,” he mumbles, slowing to watch in awe as his cock drags against your entrance, reappearing slicker with every thrust. “So fuckin’ tight...and sloppy. You’re makin’ a mess of me, sweetheart."

You shudder under his rapt attention, at the sheer want in his voice, but despite the obvious effect of his words, you’re still staying quiet, just like he told you to. You’ve been such a good girl, so he decides to take a risk and reward you.

“M'gonna let go, alright? But ya gotta keep bein' good for me," he leans down to press his lips between your shoulder blades, his hand dropping from your mouth to settle on your waist. "Don't need'ta be silent, just need'ya to keep it down. Can ya do that?"

You gasp as his slow, deep thrusts still and he presses flush against your ass, grinding into you languidly as he waits for your answer.

"Y-yeah...yes, yes," you reply weakly, cold ceramic digging into your breasts as you pant heavily into the sink. "Keep going—p-please, just fuck me."

"That's my girl," he breathes raggedly, and he's a little ashamed at how quickly his balls start to tighten at the soft timbre of your voice.

His pace abruptly picks up, and then he's forcing you onto his cock again, his hips slamming into yours with a steady, wet thock-thock-thock that's probably louder than you've been all night. But he doesn't stop—you feel way too fucking good to stop, and he likely couldn't even if he tried.

In the back of his mind, he tells himself that your parents are probably doing dishes by now, and whatever he's doing to their daughter upstairs is getting drowned out by running water and clattering dishware.

He continues to repeat the shitty lie to himself as he yanks you up, pulling your back flush against his chest and wrapping an arm around your stomach to hold you in place. The abrupt shift changes the angle of his hips so he’s fucking up into you instead, and it feels...indescribable.

He's hitting something he wasn't able to reach before, a sensitive spot impossibly deeper inside you that has your pussy squeezing him, gushing down his cock, and he's—

Fuck, he's not going to last long.

"Mmph...fuck—there, Joel, there. So, so fucking close, please, need it harder."

Christ, and you begging him to fuck you harder isn't helping. His hand drops between your legs to your swollen clit, slipping through the slick mess to rub tight, insistent circles into the hardening nub, and the heady friction has your thighs quaking almost immediately.

"S'good...feels soso good," you slur deliriously, teetering on the cusp of your orgasm. "Wanted you so fucking bad all night...ngh, should've fucked me right there on the table—"

Joel cuts you off before you can finish, pushed a little too far past his limit.

"Baby, m'gonna cum if ya don’t shut up," he grits through his teeth, still pounding into that spot, still rubbing hard and fast swirls into your clit, and he can feel how close you are.

"F-fuck, me too—m'so close. Fill me up, please."

That sends him over the edge. You barely have time to gasp in a breath before he shoves you back down, lifting one of your legs up to the side so he can sink even deeper as he practically mounts you on the edge of the sink.

"Fuck yeah, I'll fill ya up," he groans, drawn-out and wrecked, as he empties inside you, thick spurts coating your convulsing walls. His hands greedily roam your body, caressing every inch of bare skin he can reach. "Send ya back downstairs to your momma and daddy with my cum leakin' out of ya. Filthy fuckin' girl."

Three more achingly deep thrusts, and then you're cumming hard, exploding hot and wet around him, already feeling him start to drip out of you and down your thighs. Your entire body seizes, desperate not to make a single sound while he fucks you through your orgasm, but then Joel meets your eyes in the mirror.

The warm chestnut of his eyes has been completely overtaken by his blown-pupils and he looks a little wild, like he's about to do something you'll both regret. Then, he does. Without warning, he buries his face into the crook of your neck and bites down hard, sucking a bruise into your skin he knows you won't be able to hide, and the squeal that erupts from your chest is high-pitched enough that you know everyone in the house heard it.

The thought alone stokes the heat already starting to build in the pit of his groin again, and the sight of his cum leaking out of your pussy in thick globs when he pulls out only fans the flames.

"M'takin' you home, sweetheart. Gonna fuck ya the way you deserve," he mumbles into your marked skin, and you tremble in his arms, whimpering softly through an aftershock. "Then, you can scream as loud as ya want—"

"Everything alright up there?" Your mom's voice filters up the stairs. "What, did one of y'all fall into the sink?"

Joel noses into your hair, chuckling before he responds.

"Just finished."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller smut #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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chrisevansonly · 7 months

Text

𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: charles leclerc x female reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: life is too heavy to carry, thankfully your boyfriend will carry it with you

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: talks of mental health and suicidal thoughts, mentions of depression, heavy topics so please read at your own discretion

𝐚/𝐧: i’ll be honest this is self indulgent and i know i said i wasn’t writing but idk i feel so low and thought writing about how im feeling might help? ive struggled with mental illness my whole life so i find writing it out in a way i can enjoy helps…i hope it helps others that are in need of it too<3

Life is painful, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, it’s dark and gloomy, heavy and hard to carry, life is painful. Okay well maybe not for everyone but for you it was, and it was draining, exhausting really trying to survive each day instead of living like everyone else. Truth be told you’d struggled with mental illness for as long as you can remember. In high school the suicidal thoughts came into play and you had fallen into a place no one deserved to fall.

You’d hear people tell you to smile, cheer up, get outside and take in the fresh air, but they don’t understand. They don’t get the internal pain one feels when they deal with depression and anxiety, unless you live it: you don’t get it.

So yes, life was painful but there was an ounce of sunshine in your life and it came in the form of Charles, your boyfriend of exactly three years. The man who broke through the storm to bring you blue skies and calm waters, the man who held you tightly as you cried for a break, aching for a moment of peace within yourself. Charles was a gift, you were sure of it: he was too.

“my love…?”

His voice was soft, delicate as it filtered through the dark bedroom, eyes filled with concern as he looked at you huddled under the blankets, almost willing them to swallow you whole

“hmm?”

It might not have been a word but Charles would take it

“can I get you anything? do you need something?”

The room fell silent again except for the sound of covers shifting, your head peaking over the duvet

“y-you please”

Hearing your voice break was enough for Charles to promptly move from his place in the doorway, lifting up the covers on his side of the bed before settling down and pulling you into his side, letting you virtually melt against him

“okay, okay i’m here, it’s okay amour..”

“it-it hurts”

“i know baby, i know it does…but it will only hurt for a little, i promise you.”

You wanted to believe him, you really did, but how many years would you have to suffer before it truly felt like you would never know how to feel okay.

“it’s hard to be here”

Now this caught Charles attention right away, having known your past with depression and even suicidal thoughts, he felt his blood run cold at the thought of you being anywhere than right here with him

“listen to me baby, i know it hurts, i know it’s hard, but i promise you i will help you find your sunshine, i will help you find your happiness”

He paused shifting to rest a hand on your cheek, his thumb swiping at a stray tear on your cheek

“i love you with everything in me, and i will do whatever i can to help you through this, if you need me to carry more of the weight, let me, if you need a shoulder to lean on more than usual, do it. you are my entire world baby, i won’t ever leave you out in the dark to take this on all on your own..”

Letting out a soft sniffle you looked up at him, always appreciating just how much love he held for you in his eyes alone

“why, i-i’m so sad a-all the time”

“because i love you. it doesn’t matter if your angry, happy, sad it’s part of you, i love all of you no matter what, and i am not going anywhere”

Charles leaned forward, pressing his lips to your forehead letting you have a minute to just digest everything he was saying

“pinky promise?” you asked softly, holding your pinky finger out which brought a soft smile to his face

“pinky promise baby, always.”

Nothing else needed to be said as you curled yourself further into his side, his arms only tightening on you, as if to keep you from slipping away from him. Charles knew words only helped so much, but he was willing to do whatever it took to bring you blue skies back. Even if it took days or weeks, even months, Charles was going to be right beside you, every step of the way.

Life might be painful, but you never had to go through it alone again.

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defectivevillain · 1 year

Text

this broken design, ch5

summary: “Dr. Lecter?” You blink a few times, convinced that you’re dreaming. The man’s gleaming eyes and concerned expression seem a bit too realistic to be conjured by your sleeping mind, though. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen him look worried. You quickly decide that you don’t like it.

“Hannibal, please,” the doctor responds nonchalantly. You stare at him in utter confusion. Just what is happening right now? You thought you were dreaming, but this feels a bit too vivid. “What are you doing out here?”

read from the beginning here! [this won’t make much sense, otherwise]

[ao3 version]

notes: I privated my ao3 account so that only registered users can see it... since all the ai stuff has been going on and I'd rather be safe than sorry.... I'm not sure how many ppl follow with the series here on Tumblr, but I figured I'd post it here too, in case any of you don’t have an ao3 account... [I posted this a bit ago on ao3, so apologies for the tardiness]

the gif above is so funny. the lil head tilt is killing me, idk.

warnings: panic attack, self harm (digging nails into skin), franklyn having zero boundaries

You’re in Hannibal’s home again. You really need to have more self-preservation—you’re practically a gift-wrapped murder victim here. Although, he hasn’t killed you yet. Maybe you’ll be fine. Perhaps you aren’t as rude as you thought you were. The thought amuses you.

Inexplicably, as you’re speaking with Hannibal, he asks you to accompany him to the opera. The request is so unexpected that it takes you several moments to realize you heard him correctly. Hannibal stares at you expectantly and you take a deep breath.

“You realize I don’t know the first thing about opera,” you remark apprehensively. “Surely there are far better choices than me.” Doesn’t he have acquaintances that are more suited for this type of outing? You’re certain you would look extremely out of place amidst the typical visitors. Surely, Hannibal knows that he will put his reputation at risk by bringing you along. You try to convey those sentiments in the eye contact you’re currently maintaining with the man, but he doesn’t seem dissuaded in the slightest.

“You are my friend and I want to spend time with you,” Hannibal states easily. You envy his ability to be so straightforward with his thoughts and feelings. “Is that really so strange?”

“I suppose not,” you frown. Fond of breaking doctor-patient boundaries, are we, Dr. Lecter? You dispel the thought. Admittedly, from the first moment you interacted with Hannibal, you knew he would be more than a psychiatrist. You’re happy to consider him a close friend now.

“Are you amenable?” Hannibal then asks, just before you can zone out and lose focus.

“When is it?” You ask, despite knowing that you don’t have much going on this week anyway.

“Tomorrow night,” Hannibal answers. You raise an eyebrow.

“Rather late notice,” you say, if only to make him sweat a bit. Of course, Hannibal’s perfectly crafted mask remains in place. “Did your date cancel on you?” Hannibal’s eyebrows furrow and he crosses his arms over his chest. You decide to take pity on him and stop messing around.

“I’m just kidding,” you interject with a grin. It’s kind of fun to see how much you can push Hannibal around. You get the feeling that no one really questions him. It’s amusing to see him scramble for an explanation, even though the effort is perfectly rehearsed. “I think I’m free; I’d love to go. You just may have to deal with my complete ignorance when it comes to opera music.”

“I think I’ll survive,” Hannibal smiles. Is he playing along? You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Admittedly, you weren’t expecting that. It’s nice to know that Hannibal can take a joke.

“Anyway, thank you for inviting me into your home again; I hope I’m not intruding.”

“Of course not,” Hannibal says with a shake of his head, as if the very thought is ludicrous.

“I invited you.” Hannibal then excuses himself for a moment and you take the opportunity to look around his kitchen. You suppress the extremely compelling urge to look through his drawers—you know what you’ll find and you’re certain you don’t want to see it. Instead, you let your eyes rove over the polished cabinets and clean counters. Just before you can lose interest, your gaze falls on the rolodex. Interest peaking, you decide to walk towards it.

It appears the rolodex holds business cards of people Hannibal has met. You idly flip through the rolodex, needing something to occupy your restless hands. A few of the names are (unsurprisingly) ones you recognize. It takes you a few moments of observation to realize just what purpose this rolodex serves. It appears this is a list of potential murder victims. Flipping through the various business cards, you don’t see a common denominator. “Whenever feasible, one should always try to eat the rude,” Hannibal had told you once. On second thought, these business cards are probably people that Hannibal has determined to be rude. You go through the names with renewed interest. A few of them are rather fancy. One even looks remarkably close to yours. You move to the next one before a breath catches in your chest and you find yourself returning to the one that caught your eye.

The business card is extremely similar to yours—same color and font. You squint at it, heart racing in your chest as you look at the name written on it. It must be another government agent, surely. You all have similar, standard-issue business cards. You just hope it isn’t any of your acquaintances. You’re expecting to see anyone from Jack Crawford to Alana Bloom. You close your eyes for a moment, before finally giving in and reading the name. It’s… It’s your name.

You stare at the card in disbelief. Where did Hannibal get your business card? It has your name, phone number, email address… It even has your office location at headquarters. You swallow past the trepidation building in your core. You can’t quite stop the choked laugh that escapes your lips. You let your guard down. You had foolishly hoped that maybe, just maybe, things would be different. You let your guard down and, now, your name rests amidst the names of current and future Ripper victims.

“Is everything alright?” The timing could not be worse. Hannibal walks in as you’re looking at the rolodex and you quickly turn around, trying to shield it from his view. You’re not sure what expression is on your face, but it must be suitably harrowed, because his face twists in concern—mock concern, your mind supplies. “You look rather shaken.”

“Yes, of course,” you answer. It takes every ounce of practice you’ve accumulated to keep the fear from your voice. You sound slightly flat, but you’re convinced that you’ve mostly concealed your true feelings. “Apologies, Dr. Lecter. I think I’d better get going.”

You can tell that Hannibal is suspicious, but you don’t give him the chance to ask you about it—instead deigning to murmur a quick goodbye and walk out to your car. You’re infinitely grateful that you had the foresight to drive yourself. You’re not sure that you would’ve had the energy to maintain your composure in Hannibal’s company.

You wait until you’re a sufficient distance from Hannibal’s home to sag in your seat and sigh heavily. You’d been growing too big of an ego. Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper. The two of you are friends and you foolishly assumed that your friendship gave you immunity. Clearly, that isn’t the case. You need to remember yourself, remember that the composed dinner host you often sit across from is a practiced killer. One false move and you’re dead. Once you get home, you spend the remainder of the evening in an anxious and paranoid haze. It takes you a while to fall asleep that night and, when you do, the Ripper follows you into your dreams.

The next morning, you receive a text from Hannibal—which includes the details of the opera and what time he plans to pick you up. It takes you several moments to ground yourself in reality and remember that Hannibal isn’t aware of your knowledge that he’s the Ripper. Once you collect your composure, you insist that you can drive yourself—but he waves off the suggestion and maintains that he’ll drive. Admittedly, now that you’re thinking about it, you don’t have the slightest clue what to wear. You’ve never really been to an opera performance before, and you can only imagine what the people in attendance will be wearing. You have no idea where to begin searching for an outfit. Your closet isn’t exactly the best.

Eventually, you swallow your pride and text Hannibal. He knows you’re not sophisticated, you think to yourself. Asking him for help isn’t that embarrassing. In fact, you’d rather ask and lose a bit of dignity than try to puzzle it out on your own [and fail miserably.] Hannibal is quick to respond—almost as if he had been expecting the question—and says that he’ll bring clothes for you. You immediately have several objections to that, but they fall on determined ears. You regret asking, now.

A few hours later, there’s a quiet knock on your door. You open the door to find Hannibal waiting on your doorstep, folded clothing in hand. You shake your head in exasperation and let him in. “Thank you,” you say, taking the clothes he’s extending out to you. You still feel the need to try to argue one more time. “I could’ve found something on my own.”

Hannibal looks you up and down, in a manner that makes you feel extremely self conscious. You aren’t exactly wearing the fanciest clothing right now, but that’s only because you knew you’d be changing. “Doubtful,” Hannibal remarks. You glare at him, only to find his lips twisted in that slightly amused smirk. You roll your eyes.

“I’m going to change,” You then realize that this is the first time that Hannibal has been in your home. He’s driven you many times, but he’s never gotten out of the car before. “Feel free to explore, I guess.” You’re struck with the sudden mundane feeling of shame, as you recognize how much less luxurious your home is. Hannibal doesn’t seem to mind, though, as he starts to walk around and look at things. Meanwhile, you head to the bathroom.

Once you place the clothes on the bathroom counter, you’re once again realizing that you’re out of your depth. The outfit he’s given you is extremely lavish: an extravagant suit with dress pants. Upon further examination, you realize that he even gave you an undershirt. You push aside all the strange, conflicting feelings you have about sharing clothes with your psychiatrist. Unsurprisingly, the clothes smell very strongly of Hannibal’s cologne. It takes all of your resistance not to cough once you put them on. You’re not very fond of fragrances to begin with, since they often give you headaches. But, you know you have no right to complain. It was extremely generous of Hannibal to lend you clothing, and you don’t plan to disrespect the gesture by complaining about his cologne. You put on the rest of the clothing and assess yourself in the mirror. You look rather good, you have to admit. Of course, it’s all due to Hannibal’s clothing. You take a moment to brush your teeth again before walking back out into the main area of the house, where Hannibal seems to be looking at your decorations with a keen eye. He turns around upon hearing you enter and, for a long moment, the two of you stare at each other in silence.

Inexplicably, Hannibal breaks the distance between you and reaches out. Your heart is racing in your chest but you manage to remain still. He fiddles with your collar for a moment before stepping back, apparently satisfied with his work. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“Better?” You ask sardonically.

“Much,” Hannibal remarks. “Shall we?” He holds out an arm and you scoff. Hannibal freezes and you do, too. Shit. You hadn’t meant to scoff aloud. You compensate by putting your hand on his arm and he sends you a smile that is almost… fond. You immediately disregard that notion.

The drive to the opera house is enjoyable. Hannibal is one of the few people that you feel comfortable enough to share silence with. You don’t feel the need to constantly fill the air and, so, you spend most of the ride staring out the window and looking at the trees. Before long, Hannibal is pulling into a parking space and the two of you are ascending the stairs leading to the opera house. The building is rather grand, with beautiful towering pillars and elegant statues decorating the path to the entrance. When you enter, you’re unsurprised to see Hannibal’s mask slide neatly into place.

Evidently, Hannibal has been here before, because he navigates the opera house with practiced ease. There are several people that greet him upon his entrance, and he smiles and sends them a courteous wave. You idly wonder if he truly likes any of these people, or if he merely tolerates them. As you continue to walk in, you’re brutally aware of the gazes searing into your back. You’re sure that Hannibal will be the talk of the town soon enough—you get the feeling he never brings people to these kinds of events. Indeed, he seems the type to want to appreciate art in solitude. You debate asking him once more if he’s okay with being seen with you here. Within a few moments, you’re finally in the area where the performance is scheduled to occur. Hannibal leads you to your seats—which are in one of the balconies—and you can’t suppress your thoughts any longer. Thankfully, it seems no one else has found their seats in your section just yet.

“You realize how this looks, right?” You finally ask. Hannibal sends a curious glance at you and you refuse to acknowledge how handsome he looks right now. You avert your eyes for a moment, instead watching as the people below file into their seats. “Everyone thinks that I’m… you know.” Hannibal continues to stare at you with a blank expression. Damn it, is he really going to make you explain it? You try to push past your embarrassment and remain professional. “I think they’re under the impression that we’re… dating.”

“The thought makes you uncomfortable,” Hannibal states, crossing one leg over the other. That must be why he chose these seats—he probably needs the legroom. The people below are milling about, talking with one another. You’re grateful that these seats are isolated from everyone else—there’s no expectation for you to talk to anyone.

“No, it doesn’t,” you clarify, wondering how he justified that leap in logic. “Besides, if anyone’s reputation is going to be at risk, it’ll be yours.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Hannibal says, something akin to amusement on his face. You’re not sure what he’s finding so amusing—you don’t think your statement was far-fetched or unreasonable. From the moment you walked in, you noticed quite a few people staring at Hannibal and you. They seemed to be making their own conclusions about the two of you; you just wanted to warn him. “I am not worried about my reputation.”

“You think your reputation won’t be affected?” You squint at him, trying to watch for a reaction. “...Or you just don’t care?” Your companion is silent for a moment.

“I was under the impression that I was the psychiatrist here,” Hannibal then remarks lightly. He sends you a look and you feel a momentary inkling of shame.

“Sorry,” you grimace. Hannibal’s lips quirk at the sides—a sign that he isn’t truly upset about your sudden psychoanalysis. You feel the need to justify your reaction regardless. “It’s easy to slip into the criminal profiling mindset sometimes,”

You spend the next several minutes having lighthearted conversation. It’s rather nice. The theater slowly begins to fill up until, finally, the lights dim and someone appears on the stage. To your surprise, the performance is rather enjoyable. You must be rather horrible at hiding your preconceptions, because Hannibal sends you a knowing look after the first song. You pretend not to notice the smugness radiating off the man, and instead focus on the singer. They’re quite talented, unsurprisingly. You’re not quite sure how much the tickets were, but judging from your surroundings, you’d guess they were rather expensive.

You take advantage of the brief intermission in the middle of the program to use the facilities. Once you’re finished, you move to go back into the theatre. However, there’s suddenly a hand grabbing your shoulder and you’re forcefully guided into a deserted hallway. You chance a glance over your shoulder, only to find a far too familiar patient of Dr. Lecter’s: Franklyn Froideveaux.

“Franklyn,” you remark, feeling extremely apprehensive once you recognize him. The man is wearing a three-piece suit again, but this time it’s eerily similar to something Hannibal might wear. You frown at the thought. Franklyn’s obsession with Dr. Lecter is really rather creepy. If Hannibal weren’t such a capable killer, perhaps you’d be worried for him.

“I saw you with Dr. Lecter,” Franklyn states matter-of-factly. He crowds you against the wall and you have to lean back against it to avoid touching him. The look in the man’s eyes is unnerving. It sends a shiver down your spine. There’s nothing in his irises except madness.

“Yes,” you respond, once you realize that Franklyn is awaiting an answer. You don’t tell him that Hannibal invited you, but he seems to come to that conclusion on his own.

“What did he do?” Franklyn asks. “Did he hold the car door open for you? What cologne does he wear? I have a few ideas but I can’t decide between them.” You feel your head begin to ache at his persistent badgering. You’re deeply unsettled by him.

“What’s it like being friends with Dr. Lecter?” He continues. Franklyn doesn’t even give you a chance to respond, as he continues rattling off questions. “Is he a good friend? Do you two spend time together?”

“Um-” You try to say, only for Franklyn to stop mid-tirade. His eyes quickly lock on the suit you’re wearing and you grit your teeth. This is easily one of the most uncomfortable interactions you’ve ever had, and it isn’t even over yet. You flinch as he puts a hand on your shoulder.

“That’s Dr. Lecter’s clothing,” Franklyn remarks, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. His fingers dig into your shoulder and you wince. His grip is beginning to hurt; you think you may have bruises later. “You’re wearing his clothing.”

“No, I’m not,” you try to argue.

“Yes, you are,” Franklyn asserts, not indicating that he’s hearing you or even seeing you. His eyes are glazed and it almost seems as if he’s looking directly through you. “He lent you his clothes. Why? What does he see in you?”

Ouch. That hurts for a microsecond, before you then realize that Franklyn’s opinion bears absolutely no relevance to your life. You want to speak on those thoughts, but there’s a crazed look in the man’s eyes and you decide to stay silent. Franklyn seems to take your silence as an argument itself, though, because his hand tightens on your shoulder rather painfully. You try to shove him off, but the man’s grip is unyielding.

A familiar voice calls your name from further down the hallway. You squint, only to find Hannibal walking towards the two of you. There’s an inexplicable expression on his face, and you can’t even begin to dissect it.

“Hannibal,” you breathe, unable to hide the relief you feel at his presence. Franklyn finally releases his grip on you and you reach a hand up to massage your shoulder. The man’s attention is off of you now, thankfully.

“I presumed you to be lost, but I see that notion is incorrect,” Hannibal says, his gaze flitting about your face as if looking for any sign of distress. He then looks at Franklyn, disinterest and boredom evident in his expression. Of course, Franklyn doesn’t care to notice it. He sees what he wants to see, you think to yourself. “What is going on here? Franklyn?”

Franklyn looks to you expectantly, as if waiting for you to lie for him. You instead remain silent. You know that, right now, telling the truth will unnecessarily escalate the situation. Besides, your exhaustion is starting to catch up with you and you can’t find the energy to continue the conversation.

“We were just having a friendly conversation.” Franklyn answers. Hannibal looks to you for confirmation and you avert your eyes. Meanwhile, Franklyn seems to be falling over himself in an attempt to secure Hannibal’s attention. “Dr. Lecter, it’s so nice to see you here,” Franklyn says, his voice a far cry from the manic lunacy from before. The sudden change is rather dizzying. This man is suffocating to be around. “You know, I thought this might be your kind of place. I was just speaking to your friend here…”

You place a hand on your temple, beginning to get a migraine from the sheer burst of emotions surrounding Franklyn. Your skills in criminal profiling typically allow you to get a sense of other people’s feelings. At worst, you can get a trace of what they feel. Right now, however, you feel every emotion Franklyn is exuding, and it’s enough to make your vision grainy and fuzzy. He continues prattling on, but all you can sense is the horrible flood of obsession, jealousy, and a visceral desire so palpable that it makes you nauseous.

You put a hand to the wall behind you, feeling the need to brace yourself against something. Everything in the background falls to a dull buzzing rhythm—Franklyn’s giddy conversation with Hannibal, the muted sound of the performance that you can hear through the walls. You close your eyes and beg for the torture to stop. Maybe Franklyn will take pity on you and walk away. Maybe Hannibal will lose his patience and walk away, too—you wouldn’t be surprised.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on your forearm. You vaguely register—through swirling vision—Hannibal leading you further down the abandoned hallway until he stops and pushes you into an armchair. Despite the overwhelming emotionality that Franklyn practically assaulted you with, you manage to scrounge up a rather large amount of guilt.

“Sorry,” you choke out to Hannibal. Your breathing is still a bit rough and your clothes feel incredibly constricting. You roll up the sleeves of your jacket—well, Hannibal’s jacket—and try to stammer out the rest of your apology. “Feel free to go back inside; I just need a moment.”

You place a hand over your aching temple and another on the arm of the chair. Selfishly, you think that you could use Hannibal’s support, but you don’t want to occupy his attention when the performance is still happening. You close your eyes and try to pretend that your ears aren’t buzzing. You wait to hear his footsteps as he retreats; you wait to hear an acquiescence. A few seconds pass. Instead, there’s a hand on your shoulder.

“Dr. Lecter,” you choke out, your eyes beginning to burn. You wipe at them furiously, despite knowing that the effort is futile. “Go back inside.”

“No,” Hannibal says. You can’t see the expression on his face through your blurred vision—you just pray that it isn’t annoyance or irritation.

“I’ll be fine,” you maintain through gritted teeth. You think you hear Hannibal sigh at that, but it could easily be your imagination. The man looks down at you before pressing a cool hand to your forehead. Despite knowing that he’ll withdraw his hand in a few moments, you can’t help but lean into the touch.

“I’m sure,” Hannibal remarks, pulling you up to your feet and steadying you as your balance wavers. He places your hand on his arm and the two of you walk back in the direction you came. To your surprise, when you reach the door to the theater, Hannibal pivots and leads you towards the exit. You shake your head in disbelief as humiliation, shame, and guilt battle for prominence in your chest. Before long, Hannibal has led the two of you into his car. The moment you’re in his car, you bury your head in your hands.

Everything in your vision feels harsher and sharper. You begin to dig your nails into your palms unconsciously, hoping for some means to establish yourself in reality. You don’t realize you’re doing it until Hannibal reaches out and pries your hands apart. Your hands are trembling ever so slightly and you ball them into fists.

You’re not sure how much time you spend trying to regain your composure in the passenger seat of Hannibal’s car. Dignity is a foreign concept. You’re sure the embarrassment will catch up to you later—perhaps when you’re home and have some time to think.

At some point, Hannibal begins driving. Thankfully, the roads aren’t bumpy and the ride is rather smooth. He’s entirely silent and you feel the beginnings of remorse prickling along your skin. Hannibal never asked you to explain your interaction with Franklyn, but you feel that he deserves to know what happened.

“You realize Franklyn’s in love with you, right?” You blurt out, before quickly turning your head to look out the window and avoid Hannibal’s gaze. Truthfully, you had hoped to lead into that a little bit more. Somehow, that statement was what came from your lips.

“Yes.” Hannibal responds, his eyes still locked on the road. You take the afforded opportunity to look at him, confident in the notion that you aren’t being observed right back. Hannibal seems… entirely unruffled. Then again, he always looks unbothered. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to notice when something bothers him.

“He asked me what cologne you wear,” you decide to start with. You describe how you had tried to make your way back to the theater, only to be stopped by Hannibal’s patient and led off into a secluded hallway. “Franklyn knew that I was wearing your clothes; he also wanted to know what it’s like to be friends with you.”

“What did you say?” Hannibal asks, his attention still focused on the road.

“Nothing; he didn’t let me get a word in edgewise,” you admit. You run a finger along the smooth fabric of your shirt sleeve. Unbeknownst to you, the sleeve had started to roll up on its own; you take a moment to fix that before continuing to speak. “He’s so… suffocating.”

“It seemed his presence was harming you,” Hannibal remarks bluntly. You nod in agreement. At first, the interaction was merely uncomfortable. However, once Hannibal appeared, Franklyn’s emotions hit you with full force.

“I could feel everything,” you break off for a moment. “The love, the obsession, the jealousy, the envy… It was overwhelming. That man is the darkest person I’ve ever met.”

“He isn’t a killer,” Hannibal points out. That’s true—you’ve seen your fair share of killers, with minds so dark that you couldn’t hope to find an escape. Even so, those criminals were… straightforward. Franklyn, on the other hand, is a paradox.

“I know,” you acknowledge. “Franklyn is extremely neurotic, though—arguably the worst I’ve ever seen. It’s stifling. He has debilitating control issues and a crippling urge to prove himself. He’s often a victim of his own envy and jealousy. His self-concept is… I can’t even begin to describe it.” Yet, there’s a thinly-veiled hunger in Hannibal’s eyes—he wants to hear what you have to say. You inhale slowly. Again, you feel as if you owe him for absolutely ruining his night. Besides, you’re sure that he already knows all this information anyway. Franklyn is his patient, after all.

“Franklyn is sort of… a shapeshifter, for lack of a better term. He’ll adjust and change himself to fit the situation best. When he’s in love, he’s dangerously obsessed. His unconventional actions are reassuring to him, though, because they give him a modicum of control—a control that he cannot possess over anything else.” You have a lot more that you could divulge on the matter, but you decide to stop there. Again, you’re convinced that Hannibal already knows all of that.

“I see why you’re Jack’s best profiler,” Hannibal says, finally looking away from the road to look at you. His eyes are glittering in the darkness. You roll your eyes at the unnecessary compliment, too tired to start an argument. To your surprise, when you look out the window, you realize that he’s driving down your street. That car ride had passed rather fast and within a few seconds, Hannibal is pulling into your driveway.

“We’re here,” you announce unnecessarily, grabbing the door handle and stepping out of the vehicle. To your surprise, Hannibal also gets out of the car. You squint at him in confusion, but he doesn’t seem to notice. You’re not quite sure what he’s playing at, but you’re too exhausted to figure it out. Instead of inquiring about his sudden interest in following you inside, you simply allow him to do so before closing the door behind him.

“Do you want your clothes back now?” You ask, unable to come up with any other explanation for his presence in your home. It’s not that you mind his intrusion—not at all, actually—but you’d feel more comfortable for a legitimate reason for his presence.

“If that’s acceptable,” Hannibal answers, breaking you out of your thoughts. His eyes are fixed on something on one of your bookshelves. You shake your head at his strange fascination with your living room decorations.

“Sure, I’ll go change; mind waiting here?” He assures you that he doesn’t mind waiting. You shut the door behind you in the bathroom and stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment. There are dark circles under your eyes and you look a little frazzled. Otherwise, you don’t look bad. Amazingly, you managed not to ruin Hannibal’s clothing—a feat you’re rather proud of yourself for. You settle for changing into a simple long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants. As you change, you neatly fold Hannibal’s clothing into a pile. Once you’re done, you glance at your reflection one more time. You take a half-step backwards but, before you move to leave, your eyes catch on something below your collar. You squint and lean closer to the mirror, convinced that you’re seeing things. Somehow, though, you’re not. After a moment’s hesitation, you pull your shirt collar to the side, only to find harsh marks on your collarbone and shoulder. They’re almost in the shape of a handprint and it doesn’t take much detective work to realize who they’re from—Franklyn.

That realization is not very welcome, and you decide not to think about it right now. Remembering that Hannibal is waiting on you, you grab the folded pile of clothes and walk back out to the living room. Unsurprisingly, Hannibal is looking around with a scrutinizing gaze. You walk up to him and hold out the clothes, but his back is turned. You eventually just decide to place them on the entryway table—he’ll have to see them on the way out.

“Thank you for inviting me, it was very fun,” you smile. Hannibal turns around, seemingly just noticing your presence. Just what is he looking for in your humble living room? He certainly won’t find anything of value. Furthermore, your decoration skills are nowhere near his. You can’t find a reasonable explanation for his behavior and, eventually, you have to give up on trying to rationalize it.

“I’m glad you found the night enjoyable,” he answers diplomatically. You raise an eyebrow at the stiff response. Perhaps your little… episode… had annoyed him more than you initially thought. Another apology certainly wouldn’t hurt.

“I hope I didn’t ruin your experience too much,” you wince, sheepishly shoving your hands in your pockets. Hannibal shakes his head, before taking a step closer to you.

“On the contrary, I found the performance more enjoyable with your company,” he asserts. Hannibal still looks as handsome as he did when he first appeared on your doorstep this evening—not a hair out of place. You swallow hard, before roughly shoving the thought aside—now is not the time. “I apologize for Franklyn.” Your eyebrows furrow. Why is he apologizing?

“You can’t control his actions,” you say, waving his concern off. “No harm done.” At that, Hannibal’s expression darkens. He takes another step closer, until the two of you are standing face to face. For a while, there is nothing but tense, uncomfortable silence.

“I disagree,” Hannibal says darkly, his hand resting lightly on your collarbone. Before you can protest, he’s gently pushing away the collar of your shirt to look at your shoulder. He frowns and you realize that he’s looking at the marks Franklyn left behind. If you had thought his prior expression to be dark, the look on his face now is nothing short of murderous. You feel your breath stalling in your chest, as you ground yourself in the realization that you’re standing in front of a killer with absolutely nothing to protect you. Hannibal moves to cup your cheek with a tenderness you thought him to be incapable of. His touch makes your skin feel licked with flames. Each breath you take feels labored and harsh. You swear you see Hannibal’s gaze fall to your lips for a brief moment, but you put it down to your imagination. It’s kind of late and you’re tired—you’re probably just seeing things. For a long moment, neither of you move or speak.

“Good night,” Hannibal says, a strangely determined expression on his face. His gaze keeps moving to your collarbone and you idly wish you had concealed the marks better. His hand falls from your face and he stares at you for a long moment, as if regretting your parting. You make sure to remind him of the pile of folded clothes, which he takes into his arms before turning around to leave.

“Good night, Hannibal,” you respond, opening the door for him. You watch as he enters his car and drives away. Despite the knowledge that he’s already out of sight, you feel the urge to wait a few more minutes before looking away. Finally, you close the front door and fall back against it, your mind reeling.

chapter six

#defectivevillain #Hannibal Lecter x reader #Hannibal Lecter x male reader #hannibal x reader #hannibal x male reader #hannibal x gn reader #Hannibal Lecter x gn reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc

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kankuroplease · 6 months

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what do you think of the uchihas (the most important. madara. izuna .sasukr. shisui. itachi...+your OCs the brothers of madara) '' your opinions and your thoughts '' just to know 🤭

I’m going to stick to canon Uchiha simply for time and idk what to say about my own in the same context

Madara

Like it or not, he was kinda right 😬 interesting idea, TERRIBLE execution. He’s a bit cocky (rightfully so) but i love him and he has one of my favorite smiles, look at him 😆

Izuna

I can’t stand him. To me, he’s the devil and angel on Madara’s shoulders and he wants problems, always 💀

Itachi

I’m not going to sit here and act like he didn’t do some horrible and dumb things, causing more harm than good. This guy could have solved a lot a things by opening his mouth. But he looks cool and I’m stuck to the few good things we did get from his true nature

Sasuke

I have strong feelings surrounding Sasuke and I’m going to try not to rant. Out of all the Uchiha, I understand his motives the best and his anger towards Konoha is more than justified… but him being continuously shown displaying a lack of communication skills irks me to my core. I also would have been all for movie with more of his POV, but that’s just me. It’s complicated because I either, don’t care or care too much depending on the day/specific grievance 💀

On a brighter note, I think he has one of the best character designs in the whole series

Shisui

A mischievous sweetheart. 1000% deserved better. He also had a horrifying ability that would have been great for a villain and he has the best lashes in Konoha. I like to believe he survived and is living life as a blind old man somewhere leave me alone 😭

Obito

My Uchiha Husband, you forgot him 😌 sure he’s got a laundry list of problems and he’s a red flag, but I’m an Obito apologist lmao. Unpopular opinion; I don’t think he started a war simply over Rin, I think Rin’s death was just the last straw as he had old man Madara brainwashing him for a good bit. Also he’s the hottest Uchiha imo

In conclusion; they’ve all done a lot of things wrong, but they weren’t necessarily wrong for feeling the way they did. This is the problem when you’re a lover and fighter 💀

#ask #kpz thoughts 💭

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arc852 · 2 years

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blehh i hope this isn't too much for a request as a prompt ? idk I'm just mashing neat tropes together

mouse hybrid tommy avian wilbur soulmate au ? maybe just like a short reveal ?? aaa

I love this prompt! This also made me realize I don’t think I’ve ever written a soulmate au before? This was fun to write though! I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Fear of death, fear of being eaten, being trapped

Word Count: 1152

____________________________________________________________

Tommy banged against the thick plastic of the box he found himself in. He even tried to claw his way out but the trap held firm. It made sense though, after all, it was a mouse trap.

Tommy collapsed onto the ground as the exhaustion from trying to escape for the last hour came at him at full force. When he caught his breath, he brought his knees to his chest, his tail coming to curl around one of his legs. Tommy didn’t want to accept it, but he was completely and utterly trapped.

He knew he should have left as soon as he heard the owner of the house mention a pest problem. Actually, no, he should have left the second he realized the owner of the home was an avian hybrid. But Tommy had been too desperate for shelter and so he stayed despite his instincts. It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go.

That was the problem with being a mouse hybrid or any hybrid that wasn’t considered ‘normal’ size. There was always a good chance that the bigger hybrids would see them as pests or-or even food, if their hybrid natures ended up being that of predator and prey. Sure, the smaller hybrids lived in colonies, hidden away from any bigger hybrids but if you were ever exiled from a colony, then there was really nowhere else for you to go.

Of course, Tommy had been exiled and had no choice but to act like an actual mouse. Living in the walls of a bigger hybrid’s house and scavenging in order to survive.

And now he was here. Trapped and most likely going to be eaten when the avian hybrid gets home.

Tears formed and fell and he buried his head in his knees, quietly sobbing at his fate.

A tingling sensation on his arm caused him to pause, however. He lifted his head and looked down at his arm. Hey, how are you doing? Was written across it, having just appeared.

His soulmate.

Tommy’s breath hitched when he realized he would never get to meet them. Never get to actually know their name. Of course, he never really counted on meeting them. Sure, they could be another tiny hybrid but there was also a chance they were a big one and based on things his soulmate brought up, it was more likely he was big.

But even still, Tommy had hoped deep down they could still meet. That his soulmate wouldn’t care he was a mouse hybrid. That he would be seen as a person instead of a pest.

But now that hope was gone. Because Tommy was going to die.

Tommy reached into his pocket and brought out a marker. Or, well, the very tip of one, fashioned in a way that it wouldn’t get his hands dirty with the color red. He took a deep breath and began to write.

Not good, big man. I…I think this is it for me.

What? What do you mean by that?

Tommy hesitated on the next bit, but knew he had to tell his soulmate. It was now or never.

I’m a mouse hybrid. I got exiled from my colony. I decided to live in a big hybrid’s home and they decided to set up mouse traps. I got caught in one.

Tommy quickly wiped his tears away so they wouldn’t smudge his writing. He looked down at the feeling of more writing appearing.

What? I mean, that’s…that doesn’t mean you’re going to die. The hybrid could let you go, not all big hybrid’s see tiny ones as pests. I don’t.

That was confirmation then, that his soulmate was a big hybrid. Tommy smiled, at least happy to know that his soulmate didn’t think less of him now that he knew.

I appreciate that big man. But the owner of the house is an avian hybrid. And, well, I’m a mouse hybrid. It’s pretty obvious what’s going to happen to me.

Wait…did you say an avian hybrid?

Yeah.

Tommy waited a few minutes, expecting his soulmate to say something else but there was nothing. Maybe he was finally realizing how screwed Tommy was.

Tommy was just about to write out his last goodbye to a soulmate he would never meet when he heard the door to the house open. He tensed, dropping his marker in fear. The owner was home.

He heard footsteps and Tommy curled back in on himself, hoping the owner would give him a little bit more time, that he wouldn’t check the trap right away.

That didn’t happen though.

The footsteps only grew louder and he heard the creak of the pantry door open. There was a pause and then Tommy’s prison was being lifted. It was very quickly put down again though.

“Please…” He thought he heard the avian whisper. He didn’t have time to think about what the avian could have meant by that though because slowly the trap was starting to be opened. Tommy once again buried his face into his knees and shut his eyes tight.

The box was fully open, he could tell from the amount of light behind his eyes. And then a gasp came from the avian and Tommy’s heart skipped a beat.

“Hey, it’s okay…” The avian, his tone soft. Tommy’s heart felt like it was going to explode but he forced himself to look up and meet the avian’s eyes.

Just like his tone, his eyes were soft, nothing like the hungry look Tommy was expecting. Tommy didn’t want to trust it but a feeling deep inside him made him second guess his own instincts.

“I can’t believe all this time…” The avian started to say, trailing off a bit. But that only made Tommy more confused.

“What…What the f*** are you talking about?” Tommy spat out, still unsure of where all this was going.

The avian smiled and for some reason, Tommy didn’t feel threatened by it. “Well…I was just out talking to my soulmate when they mentioned they had gotten trapped. In a mouse trap set by an avian hybrid.”

Tommy’s eyes widened more and more as the avian talked. “Wait…”

The avian lifted up his arm, and plain as day Tommy could see his handwriting in bright red letters. “My name is Wilbur.” The avian said and then he looked sheepish. “Sorry about the mouse trap.”

Wilbur. His soulmate’s name was Wilbur and he was a big hybrid. An avian hybrid. And he didn’t see Tommy as a pest. Tommy smiled back at his soulmate.

“Yeah, well, you’re going to pay for that later.” He said, ideas already forming in his mind. “My name is Tommy.”

They were two hybrids from completely different walks of life. Hybrids of two species who, in the wild, were predator and prey. But somehow, Tommy knew this would work out. He just had a feeling.

#g/t #giant/tiny #mcyt g/t #au #hybrid au #mouse!tommy #avian!wilbur #tiny!tommy #giant!wilbur #soulmate au #platonic #platonic soulmates #prompt #fic #my fic #unedited

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moving-wright-along · 10 months

Text

after mh everyone survives au? idk i found this in my drafts and finished it-

You wake up slowly, a sharp feeling in your abdomen causes you to moan in pain. Your eyes flutter open, but you shut them immediately when the light burns your retinas. Your pupils feel like they’re swimming beneath your eyelids. Somewhere, lost in the darkness, you pass out again.

It’s dark outside when you wake up again, and the pain in your side has faded to a dull thud. You shift your head to look around. You’re laying on a bare mattress with no bedframe, pushed into the corner of a room with concrete floors and stone walls. There’s something beneath your head, but it isn’t a pillow- you think it’s a balled up jacket, and your only source of warmth seems to be a thin sheet. There’s a window in the wall to your left, but the glass is gone and judging by the state of the rest of the room, it probably has been for a while. You can vaguely see plants and trees outside, but the warm yellow light of a camping lantern doesn’t extend far enough for you to see anything else.

Nearby there’s a man sitting on the floor, hunched over. There’s a bundle of black fabric clutched in his hands. As if the stranger felt your stare, he looks up. You think hazily that he looks familiar, but you can’t place where you’ve seen him. He has blue eyes and there’s a slight peek of sandy blonde hair underneath his yellow hood. The stranger’s mouth falls open.

“Jay?” He asks.

Jay... Is he referring to you? You don’t feel like a Jay, but you assume that’s your name. The man suddenly crawls closer. You want to shift away, but your body doesn’t move.

“Can you hear me? Jay?”

You manage a slow nod, and you notice that your brain kind of feels like jello.

“Okay, good...” The stranger leans back, and he shifts a little awkwardly, sitting at your side. “Wasn’t sure you were gonna pull through for a while there.”

Pull through? Oh, you suppose that means you almost died. That would explain the pain and the... well, everything about how you feel right now.

“Who...?” You intend to say more, but that’s all you manage to croak out. The man in front of you looks confused for a moment, like he doesn’t understand what you’re asking, then realization slowly dawns on his face.

“Oh.” He says, then remains quiet for a long moment. “I guess... you don’t recognize me?”

You just stare blankly.

“I’m uh-... I’m Brian.” He says. “You’re Jay.”

You nod.

“Here, hold on.” He mumbles, and pulls a phone out of his hoodie pocket. He sits there for a minute, fiddling with the device until he hums in triumph. He holds the phone out for you to see.

“Do you recognize him?” Brian asks. It’s a picture of another man. He has dark hair and pretty impressive sideburns and he’s smoking a cigarette. Just like Brian, he looks familiar, but no name in your mind matches with his face. You don’t understand why, but your heart hurts at the sight of him. You shake your head. Brian hums.

“That... I don’t know if that makes this easier, or harder.” Brian goes quiet for a few minutes. He looks back down at the phone and continues searching through it. The whole time, you think about the man in the picture. It’s starting to bother you now, a name is on the tip of your tongue but you just can’t force it out- it’s something short, something... familiar. You feel like you’ve forgotten a word you’ve spoken a hundred times before. You wonder how you know him, or how Brian knows him, or how Brian knows you yet you don’t even seem to know you. But your throat hurts at the very thought of trying to speak, so you keep it shut.

“How about him?”

Brian flips the screen around and holds it close to your face. The picture is slightly blurry with motion, like it was a screenshot from a video rather than an actual photo. The man with sideburns is leaned up against a wooden railing, and there’s another taller man looming over him. It looks like they’re arguing. If your heart warmed at the sight of the first man, it runs ice cold when you see the second. A shiver runs up your spine, making you jitter and twitch a little. However, like the first, you can’t remember his name.

When you don’t respond or react anymore, Brian leans back and pockets his phone again with a sigh.

“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. How are you feeling?”

Apparently your nonplussed expression is answer enough, because Brian immediately grins and laughs a bit.

“I’ll take that as a ‘not great’.” He says.

It seemed like he was about to do or say something, but he suddenly tenses, and stands up. You watch, confused, as Brian stalks over to the glass-less window, and peers out into the darkness. He seems like he’s looking for something. You look around a bit more yourself, since now it doesn’t hurt to keep your eyes open. You spot a table in the corner opposite to you that you didn’t see before. There’s a few orange prescription bottles strewn about it, and a few empty ones beneath it. There’s half full water bottles laying around and a few empty food wrappers. It makes you wonder just how long you two have been living here- or rather, how long Brian has been living here, and how long you’ve been asleep.

Brian steps away from the window slowly, and towards the table. He pops a few pills out onto his palm, grabs a water bottle and walks towards you. You tense.

“Here, take these.”

You don’t know why but there’s a clawing at your chest telling you not to take those pills. You’re scared, but just like everything else, you can’t place why. Brian doesn’t seem to notice your plight, or if he does he chooses to ignore it. In the end, you can’t deny them and Brian helps you take them without lifting your head too much. You hope that you’re just being paranoid.

Brian sits besides you heavily, but he winces when his body makes contact with the floor. His eyes stay screwed shut for a moment before he pulls them back open, one hand moving to rub the small of his back. Is he injured too?

"Try and rest up as much as you can. Once you can move, we’ll have to change locations.”

Brian shuffles, seemingly trying to get comfortable himself.

"I guess first on the agenda is finding Tim. Whether or not he'll want to see us is another story, but..." Brian trails off, shifting his shoulders, like he was trying to find a way to say something without knowing how. "First, it seems like there's a lot I need to catch you up on."

#jam marble hornets #jay merrick #brian thomas #marble hornets #My writing #tim wright #alex kralie

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jadedrrose · 1 year

Text

Strange Connections - chapter one

After saving you from an attack that nearly kills you, Levi begins experiencing headaches and wondering why he feels so strange when you’re with him…

Warnings: violence, swearing, typical aot underground things. you should probably read/watch ACWNR before reading this

EDIT 1/19: Today I became aware of an already existing fic that has a similar plot (at least the beginning part, idk abt the bond) and I just want to let everyone know I am not stealing that authors’ work! I simply assumed this sort of plot hadn’t been done yet (or recently) since I haven’t come across it in the last 2 years. Hope you all understand <3

Fight. It’s what you had to, needed to do. To survive. Those were the only words processing through your brain.

You weakly grabbed for your dagger which lay in the dirt behind you, glaring up at the attacker. Don’t let him know you’re afraid. Your fingers fumbled along the handle, sweaty palms struggling to get a good grip on it. Just stab him. And run. Finally grasping it, you pulled it toward yourself and out in front of you. A mistake.

The large man cackled, shaking his head as he stuck his foot out to kick your hand, knocking your only weapon away, entirely out of reach. Now what would you do? Scream? Nobody would ever come though. That’s just the norm down here. You thought about kicking him just under his knees to try and knock him over. Then you could run. But he was so large compared to you, he’d be able to easily grab you. And what about the others helping him, waiting to catch you?

One more thought crossed your mind, though, as you looked at the sinister grin on the man’s face. How did this happen; why is this happening? Would this be the last thing you saw? Or would he keep you alive to torture you?

What would become of you?

Your brave wall of not showing weakness broke, finally crumbling down. The man had rope and not only a knife much larger than your dagger, but a gun too. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the two other men watching with smirks on their faces. You were powerless against them.

Breath shaking, you let out a defeated whimper as he stalked toward you, salty tears spilling over from your eyes, down to your flushed cheeks. You’d lost.

—

-earlier that day-

You’d risen from bed, completely unsure of what hour it currently was. But honestly, did anybody know down here anyway? All you knew was that you’d overslept again, after getting stuck at the tavern super late into the evening.

You went about your usual morning routine. Make your bed, bathe yourself, get dressed for the day, and grab the dried meat scraps to feed to the stray cats that lived on your street.

Pulling your boots on and throwing the satchel with the scraps in it over your shoulder, you headed out of your small home, locking the door behind you. Upon hearing the clicking of the heels on your boots, the cats swarmed you. Just as they did everyday.

“Hey guys, are you hungry?” you called to them, in a sweet voice you’d never allow anybody to hear coming from you. Especially down here.

Living in The Underground was difficult. Well, that was a given for literally anyone living down here. But as a woman who lived alone, it was particularly dangerous for you. If any creep heard you talking like that, you’d be screwed.

But, you felt a little more reassured, knowing how to fight. It was the one thing your sister made sure to teach you before she died.

That was the ironic part, though. You also felt incredibly unassured about whether you would survive, given how many people succumb to illnesses down here. You’d become especially aware of it after watching her deteriorate.

Sighing as you squatted down to pet the cats, you convinced yourself that you couldn’t worry about the past. If anything, your sister would’ve scolded you for doing so. So you put on a brave face and smiled at the cats rubbing against you affectionately, pulling the food from your bag for them.

“It’s not much, but it’s better than diseased rats, I’m sure,” you said to them, as if they could even understand you.

After you ensured that they were all fed and loved on, you stood up and dusted your hands off. “I’ll see you guys later. Gotta get groceries.”

The cats meowed and followed you until you reached the end of the alley that connected with the main road. As soon as you turned to the left to head on your way, they all headed back into the shadows.

You silently glanced at everybody you passed by, taking small notes of everyone you saw. Just in case. There were a few menacing looking men who watched you pass them by. Three of them, to be exact. You’d just have to keep your eyes out for them. Then there was the group of orphaned children, playing in the alley next to the building they lived in with the woman who took care of them. No matter how many times you’d seen it, your heart always broke for them; hoping they’d one day be able to escape this hell. A couple of them waved to you. You’d given them leftovers from the tavern a handful of times, out of feeling like you had to do something to help. Smiling, you waved in return and kept on walking.

It wasn’t until a couple moments later you realized that the men from before were now trailing you. Perhaps you could avoid them.

However, you were surprised when they caught up to you, tapping you on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, miss,” the largest one called out.

You turned on your heel, looking at them with suspicion. “Yes?”

“How much for a day of your services?” He asked with a chuckle. The two men behind him laughed, too.

“Services? Excuse me?” There was no way they thought a simple waitress like you could be a prostitute.

They didn’t stop though, “ah, shy, are ya? Ironic considering the way you’re dressed, darlin’.”

What? You glanced down at your outfit. It was just a loose blouse, corset, and black pants. What about that screamed prostitute? Was your shirt buttoned too low?

“Sorry. I think you have the wrong idea. I’m just a waitress,” you excused yourself, walking away without paying them any more attention.

That seemed to get them off your tail, and you rolled your eyes. Men down here, I swear…

You were now about halfway to the market closest to your home, but you were actually closer to the tavern than you were to the market. Why not stop by? The only friend you really had down here should be there today.

Upon reaching it, you headed in to find it was extremely quiet. Only about two customers in the entire place. Then you spotted your friend, who was leaning against the bar, looking over reports for income. Her brown eyes screamed that she was bored as she lazily looked down at her work, blonde hair hanging over her face.

“What’re you up to, Cass?”

She looked up, eyes lightening up at the sound of your voice greeting her. “Y/n? What’re you doing here?”

“Just stopping by,” you replied, “it doesn’t seem like you’re busy anyways.”

“No, I’m not,” she confirmed, snapping her notebook shut and sliding it onto the counter behind her. “Need something?”

“Nah, just wanted to chat, since you and I haven’t been scheduled together for some time. I miss your company, y‘know? Sucks working without you.”

“Honestly,” she agreed, “who else am I supposed to gossip with or talk about the annoying drunk people who come in?”

You both laughed, and you pulled out a stool to sit next to her. “You know some guys just asked me if I was a prostitute?”

“No way,” Cass scoffed. “Some of the guys down here… they’re just so nasty, ugh.”

“I know! They said I was dressed like one, too!”

Cass looked over your outfit, looking confused. “You look like every other woman down here, just maybe with a better fashion sense… I don’t get it?”

“Maybe there’s some sort of accessory that signals you’re one and I just haven’t figured it out yet,” you pondered. “All I have are earrings and a small pin on my bag, though.”

“Or maybe they were just drunk off their asses like every other creep down here, and got a little confused,” she chuckled. “Oh well. But hey, I guess that means you look pretty today.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing the comment off. “No way. I’m like, the most basic looking girl ever.”

“Yeah, except that you’ve got way better hygiene and take care of your hair, know how to style even the shittiest clothes, and you just generally look hot.”

“Oh shut up,” you said, playfully punching her arm. “But I could say the same to you.”

She laughed along with you, before sighing as some customers walked in, since the lunch hour was starting. “Well, I guess I’m busy now,” she complained. “I’ll see you whenever we both work next.”

“Soon I hope,” you agreed. “Bye!”

—

The market wasn’t too much further up the road. Hopefully it was still early enough that you could get in and out without getting trapped in the crowds where you were sure to have someone attempt to steal from you. But you were too watchful for that to happen. If anything, you’d just steal it right back. And maybe more than what was yours, since they wronged you first.

But, to your relief, the roads weren’t nearly as busy as they were the other days you’d tried stopping by, and you wouldn’t have to focus so hard on protecting yourself and your things.

It was only a few more steps up the hill to the market, when you heard a familiar voice.

“Well boys, if it ain’t the pretty girl from earlier.”

Your eyes widened. They’d continued following you?! How had you not noticed? You took a deep breath and relaxed your features before turning to look at them.

“And didn’t I state earlier that I'm not interested?”

The three of them were together, all leaning against the wall that marked the end of a dark alley. The big guy who had talked to you had his arms crossed in front of him, that same disgusting smirk on his face.

“More or less,” he replied. “But uh, things don’t quite work that way down here, do they?”

You raised your eyebrow, reflecting his mood by crossing your arms in front of you and frowning. If you showed even the slightest sign of being scared, they’d take the chance right away.

“And what’s that supposed to mean? I don’t provide the services you’re looking for, so I can’t help you there. Is it money you want? Cause I don’t think any of us down here have that.”

They all chuckled once again, their sinister eyes shining with a glint of anger. “Fine, then. We’ll just have to force it outta ya.”

“Excuse me?” You snapped, putting your hands on your hips. “I think you’re underestimating me. I’m not just any other defenseless girl.”

“So she’s gonna put up a fight,” one of them mockingly said to the big guy. “Let’s make it even boss, you and her can fight and we’ll stand by.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” their boss agreed, cracking his knuckles. He pushes off the brick wall with his foot and begins stalking toward you, pulling a large knife from his belt.

“Let’s see how long you can last against me, girl.”

You begin to reach to your hip to pull out your dagger, but before you can even react, he’s rushing toward you and pushing you further into the alley, where nobody would help you.

With a yell, you pushed him off of you to the ground. A cloud of dust flew up from the impact, dirtying his and your clothes.

“You bitch!” He roared, getting up quickly and raising his knife.

Seeing how much larger his knife was, you decided to not waste time grabbing your dagger and instead swung your right leg out, kicking him as hard as you could.

He let out a grunt and clutched his side with one hand, but still didn’t hesitate to try and swing at you with the knife. You swiftly dodged, grabbing his wrist with one hand and pulling your dagger out with the other, quickly swinging it over to slice his arm. It wouldn’t be enough to make him back off, but surely the pain would give you a little more time, right?

The man cursed at you, holding the spot on his arm that now bled, staining his hand. Taking the opportunity, you then punched his face with all your strength.

You glanced over to the other men, who watched in shock. They clearly didn’t think you’d be able to fight back.

But you couldn’t look at them for long, because you had to put all your attention back on their boss, preparing yourself for his next move.

He circled you for a moment, before looking back at the other men. “Bring the rope! Now!”

You lunged at him with your knife, but he must’ve anticipated that because he blocked your attack, pushing you onto the ground, effectively knocking your dagger out of your hand. You watched in horror as it slid multiple feet away from you. The other men advanced toward the bigger one, handing him the rope.

Shit. His attack had left you beaten, despite it being only one move against you. You weakly dragged yourself closer to the dagger, desperately trying to find it among all the dust. Seeing a glimmer of light reflecting on its blade for just a second, you quickly reached out for it.

The man laughed, preparing the rope to tie you up. His men trailed behind him, cackling along with him. “Finally. Thought for a second I might have a harder time catching you, darlin’. But, only one attack and you’re down. Poor thing.”

You glared up at him, swinging your upper body up despite the pain it put you through, spitting at him. “You bastard! Don’t think that I’m just gonna give up!”

Your fingers fumbled along the handle, finding a good grip on it. You’d just have to stab him, and then you could make an escape. You might have to deal with his men, but they seemed significantly weaker than him. Probably a couple punches to them and you’d be able to keep running.

You pulled the dagger to your front side, preparing to throw yourself at the man and stab him. But then something caught your eye; another glimmer through the shadows. When you looked closer, you realized he had a gun.

You can’t outrun a gun. What would you do now?

While you tried coming up with a plan now that there was a gun involved, the man kicked the dagger out of your hand.

You let out a gasp, watching in horror as it flew far away from you. You were completely defenseless now. What could you do?

Your tough front all but disintegrated, and worry came over your features, breath shaking as you looked up at him with fear. You felt tears spilling down your cheeks. There was nothing you could do. You’d lost the fight, and now he’d either kill you right here or torture you until you died.

This wasn’t how you were meant to go. You needed to get up top, experience the hot sun burning on your skin, feel a cold snowy breeze, stand in the rain in awe as it poured down on you. You couldn’t die here.

You wouldn’t die here.

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman #aot levi #levi x you #attack on titan x reader

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lovingmattysposts · 5 months

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there's this one guy at school who i really really like and he quite literally doesn't know i exist. autumn u don't understand im fucking obsessed w this guy he's so fucking sexy i need him so badly. i mean his stubble is just so UGHFH and his face is so sittable im sobbing at the fact that i can't have him. idfk how to make the first move like we follow eo on insta but idk how to approach him (ik this contradicts what i said earlier but he doesn't know it's me). he's not like popular or anything he's just hot to me personally ygwim? my friends never listen to what i have to say ab him and it pisses me off even more bc im always there to listen to everything they have to say. i acc get left on read in the gc so often and it makes me feel so crappy. idk man im actually convinced that this guy can solve all my petty problems for me i just UGFHUF i need him. i cant even do anything anymore bc hes just always running on my mind.

“His face is so sittable” is crazy

Okay I have a lot to say

I delt with the same thing with my friend group of constantly being there for them with their problems because I’m really good at listening and giving true non sugar coated advice, but when I came to them they were not happy for me or wouldn’t give me advice. I would voice that to them and be like “I’m always there for you why can’t you be here for me, I really like this guy and I need help” and if they aren’t willing to listen, then that is a one sided friendship that you don’t need.

With the guy, all you can do is try to talk to him and if he makes it weird or does resprocate the feelings all you can do is move on and take the L, which sucks but you never know unless you try. Life is short go for it

ALSO! As much as it may seem, he will not solve all your problems. As much as I love writing the trope in stories where they are each others EVERYTHING and can’t survive without each other, that is not the way a relationship should be. They shouldn’t BE your life, they should just add too it. You have to be content in yourself without them so you don’t put everything in them and if things don’t work out you become destroyed.

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader

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weirwoodforest · 2 months

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I’m almost halfway through with Bessel van der Kolk’s well-known book on trauma, The Body Keep The Score (Apple Books tells me I’m 42% done) and I’m taking a break from it for a bit and just wanted to write down some of my thoughts. I don’t really talk much about my own experiences here, just some of my thoughts on the book so far, but TW and CW for trauma (obviously), SA, CSA, child ab*se, inc*st, and mention of animal testing.

- I guess for every 1 (one) “nice” animal test, there are 4534858943834 horrific and unethical tests lol 🫠 (the “nice” test is scientists found out that the rat moms who lick their babies more in the 12 hours after their birth make their babies braver and cause them to have an overall better life experiences than rat moms who don’t lick their babies as much. Idk, I’m not a rodent person but I did think that was cute)

- On the subject of tests, I thought the test that van der Kolk and his colleagues did of the amount of women who had survived inc*st and had an autoimmune disease was so interesting. As an SA survivor myself, I know how we can tend to hate our bodies after the ab*se… I can only imagine that that hatred for your body is tenfold with inc*st. It makes sense that their body starts attacking itself then… I’m summarizing heavily but I thought it was a very interesting study. (Also the recent article by Sarah Zhang about people finding out they were the product of inc*st via ancestry sites is… I don’t really have words. The statistic that AT LEAST 1 out of 7000 people are born from close-relative inc*st is mind boggling. In my home town with a population of 192,366 people, that would be AT LEAST 27 people whose parents were parent and child, sibling and siblings, etc etc. I think about where I grew up, the shopping centers, the parks… that is a lot of people. Unfortunately it seems inc*st is a lot more common than we think, as van der Kolk points out…)

- I know hindsight is 20/20 and I’m in 2024 reading a book published in 2014 that details many cases and studies stretching back to the 70s but man… the lack of insight on childhood trauma these doctors had blows my mind. When van der Kolk talks about being at the Boston mental health center for kids and none of the doctors were interested in trauma but just slapped on labels like ODD, ADHD, etc and just pumped these kids full of medication I was just… wow. (And I say this as someone who is medicated for ADHD, I’m not trying to disparage medication). Of course van der Kolk and his colleagues found out all these kids had suffered horrific trauma. Also, the two and half year old he talked about being labeled as “oppositional” when the doctors later observed his mom actively neglecting him… god. Yeah!! Of COURSE that has nothing to do with his behavior /sarcasm. Also kids younger than 5 being prescribed seroquel is so ??? to me.

- van der Kolk’s criticism of the DSM was really eye-opening and like… I understand that yeah, maybe Developmental Trauma Disorder does appear somewhat niche, but kids and adults like myself with high “adverse childhood experiences” scores would benefit greatly from a diagnosis and treatment that is catered to their specific needs. I’ve been diagnosed and treated for PTSD and at times it does feel so broad. My PTSD is not the same as someone who experienced something like Hurricane Katrina or the Fukushima Disaster or someone who went to war. People kind of swear by the DSM and feel comforted by it, but after reading the criticism of it I honestly have become very critical of it myself.

I think… for now that’s it. There’s a lot of the book that I’ve read so far that I’m still ruminating over in my head, so I’m sure I will come back with more Thoughts… but for now, I’ll leave it here.

(Also if you’re interested, I have a digital copy I can send mutuals.)

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stardustdiiving · 8 months

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From the ship ask! What's a pairing most people seem to like in Genshin that you don't?

(ship asks prompt)

MAN OKAY I honestly could answer this with a good third of popular Genshin ships…but none of these are really solid dislikes, it’s just me feeling specific about how I like to see it executed & finding the way the fandom handles it is either unsatisfying, or generates an environment that kinda stresses me out NJDNCNC

To narrow it down to one I feel matches the question best I think I’m gonna go with Kokomi/Sara. It’s not really an active dislike or anything I promise I’m genuinely chilling. *insane person voice* but see I am just very stressed out with the in universe geo-politics happening in the background of this Genshin impact ship

I MEAN THAT IN A VERY SILLY WAY. but also I do have a genuine elaboration on what i mean which is like…how do I say this.

I really like Watasumi Island and find their existence + circumstances as a nation really interesting, especially regarding their dynamic with the Shogunate—it’s like the one part of inazuman politics that really catches my interest. But see the way I took the way the Shogunate + Watasumi dynamic was being written was specifically that Watasumi is/was suffering from colonization/imperialism at the hands of the Shogunate. I don’t see them as equal enemies on opposing sides of a conflict I’m just kind of like. Oh my god the Shogunate tries to control their primary food sources + military and after the war u see like, Gorou helping smuggle medicine and food supplies to treat their wounded war veterans bc the Shogunate is imposing high taxes on them they can’t afford to pay. The Raiden Shogun slaughtered their deity who was kind of backed into a corner on trying to secure vital resources for his people and to this day his corpse is just sitting on her territory getting ravaged and mined for weapons !! That’s crazy! I like thinking Abt that!

While I think Inazuma suffered from the writers dropping the ball with a lot of things I am generally happy this dynamic is explored/acknowledged repeatedly and Watasumi at least to me doesn’t feel like it’s constantly written in a really meanspirited and shitty way you know. Like, in the medicine supply smuggling thing i mentioned — that’s a route in Heizhou’s hangout that ends in a conclusion that something may have severely hurt the vitality of Watasumi’s land and it’s ability to provide, but that doesn’t mean they won’t survive or all hope is lost, because theres people within Watasumi who care and embody that hope and vitality within themselves and are working hard to build stability and provide for everyone. Like idk that’s really cool and I genuinely found it a really nice narrative that really makes me root for Watasumi

But then we get to Sara & Kokomi and ppl just do not talk about this dynamic between both nations at all from what I see, despite it being really relevant to the characters and in theory the appeal of the ship? And I jusurjfucn I guess it confuses me a lot bc I remember, most recently for example on the TCG event, I was so confused seeing everyone post about their interactions for days about how it was cute they were engaging in card matches together and Sara wanted to be friends…and then I played the event myself and we get this scene where Kokomi is standing off starring out at sea alone, and she talks about how she doesn’t like how she can’t see Watasumi from here, and how that was especially agonizing to experience during the war, and then gets caught up in her memories of the war and talks about how a lot of her people are still recovering from the trauma of it, and how she’s participating in this event bc she’s anxious about wanting to build good relations between the Shogunate and Watasumi so her nation doesn’t suffer more in the future AND IM JUST…MAN

Like I do think I can see Sara & Kokomi being friends, Sara’s character feels like it’s the concept of “individual with genuinely good morals working in an oppressive system doesnt stop the damage the system causes” kind of deal BUT IDK…I get fandom experiences can very anecdotal and I’m sure there are shippers who handle this aspect of the ship but when at large it just feels like it’s filed down to a vague enemies to lovers + contrasting aesthetic girlfriends ship I guess it def leans more towards being one I’m not really into. I think it doesn’t help it strikes the specific fandom pet peeve I have where I sometimes feel ppl water down a lot of wlw ships down to just being surface level cute and I am a lesbian who likes very nuanced and complicated character dynamic exploration so I’m personally just like. Yeah idk I guess this seems rlly widely accepted fanon wise but I don’t rlly click with it at all djjcnfj while I could be interested in this dynamic being explored, just if I were doing my own take on it ik adding romantic tones wouldnt feel super necessary to make it feel more interesting to me personally yk x__x

I just feel very excitable about a lot of genshin things and Watasumi vs Shogunate related things hits that mark of interest for me…definitely not implying the shippers r doing something wrong by making silly lighthearted posts and being less interested in types of analysis I enjoy but I guess that’s the most popular ship I feel the least interested in I can think of?

#fern.txt #asks #ask game #I tried to pick a more specific ship to discuss vs smthng I feel is more standard or expected #in terms of ‘popular ship u habe unpopular opinion Abt’ for genshin #ppl rag on ships like xv and zc a lot in these kinds of contexts n while I get what ppl mean when #they gripe about mischaracterizations but that happens with every ship and I don’t get ppl being hostile Abt either pairings #bc there’s plenty of cases I feel they can be fun and am down/open to interpretations of it….everyone has their own take on their Guys you k #maybe that’s bc anyone ik who likes it on my feed is just rlly nice and chill n I like their posts Abt it #like I 110% know how polarizing fandom can be and how u can get sour Abt things if u run into the wrong ppl enough #but sometimes ppl r so mean #Abt the ppl who like popular Genshin ships in general when i think like all of them r generally fine n maybe it’s me being very #specific in how I think of fandom but all their popularities make sense even with the one I talked Abt here #this one is just the one I guess I would feel i get the least but that doesn’t mean I don’t get it st all JDJNCNC

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smilesrobotlover · 8 months

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(Dad au anon) either one! Both sound interesting!

Ok! Let’s see here… I honestly don’t know how most of them will react with some of their Links but I will try to answer all of it

Talon: Time was ten when he first met him, and he sort met him when he was woken up by that cuccoo. So first impression he thought Time was a little rascal. But he soon understood that he helped him and Malon, and he had some respect for him. Now this is the child timeline so the whole thing with Ingo didn’t happen here (or it could’ve, if Ingo found another way to claim Lon Lon ranch). When he saw Time again all sick, he knew he had to do something to help him. When he reunites with Time, he is very relieved that he can go home and be with his pregnant daughter and not have to adventure ever again in his life.

Benji: he’s Hyrule’s biological father, but shock was what he felt when he first saw him. I thiiiiiiink I’m having it so that he meets Hyrule after he was born, so he was a lil newborn bb. He was shocked that he had a kid with a great fairy of all things, and he quickly understands how dangerous it could be for a half fairy. But he feels responsible for him so he cares deeply for him. Now reuniting with Hyrule is… not yet figured out. Idk if they’ve already reunited before lbl and got taken away agin, but I might have that cuz I have an idea for when they do reunite. Benji is relieved that his son is safe and sound and doesn’t ever want to lose him again.

Rusl: ok I’m trying to figure out when they first met. Cuz I started writing a thing when twi was four years old when he showed up at Ordon, but the game makes it seem like he arrived at Ordon a lot later, and Rusl was just opening up the option for twi to officially be apart of the family. Like in tp if you talk to Rusl before you go after Talo in Faron, he invites twi to really train under Rusl, but only if he wants to. Twi is an old kid and doesn’t need to be coddled, but he can be apart of the family if he wants. Either way it’s cute, it feels like a step into adopting him. Anyways Rusl wants to take him under his wing and be there for him since Link is alone in a new place he’s unfamiliar with. Now when Rusl reunited with Link, he’s crying and sobbing and giving him hugs and kisses cuz he’s so happy to see him again <3

Leon: he’s another biological dad so he met Four when he was born lol. I write Leon as a grumpy and serious man, but he’s very loving towards his son. So I feel like holding his baby for the first time was surreal for him. It didn’t comprehend to him that this was his own child so when he first held him he felt pure love for baby Four. His wife died when Four was three months old unfortunately so he’s really taken care of Four the best he could as a widower. Even tho he’s had a few rough moments, he loves his son very much. When they reunite he’s shocked to see him split into four people again, but he doesn’t mind all that much. And he’s fine with them staying that way. It makes Four happier to be split, and Leon always wanted a big family.

Linebeck: now when Linebecj first met his little green monkey, he thought he was just a dumb kid who survived the temple of the ocean king out of sheer luck. And he calls him a green monkey mostly to comment on how bouncy and hyper he is, but it turns into a cute nickname cuz he’s just a dad. Now when he reunited with Windy, it’s a… situation… cuz last time Linebeck saw Windy, he was being pulled down into the ocean by some weird tendril. Let’s just say he’s VERY happy to see Windy

Ammon: another biological dad. I think when he saw his baby boy for the first time, he felt a need to protect him. That’s Ammon’s whole thing is that he wants to protect the people he loves for reasons that you will see in whumptober :> now Age is very capable and not a child so he’s not too worried about him, but he doesn’t get to see his family as often as he’d like, so anytime he gets to see his son he’s always happy. And of course he’s happy to see that he’s safe and sound.

Kass: well when he first met Wild, he was a random kid with battle scars who’s never seen a Rito before. At first Kass was annoyed at him, but realized that the things Wild said was pure ignorance and that Wild was just a curious amnesiac wanting to explore the world. So he happily explained the different areas he was in. Singing him song, telling stories, and explaining legends. Now he hasn’t adopted Wild, but he happily invites Wild over for dinner or just to be around. Really both Kass and Teba. Wild needs a family. When they reunite, Kass didn’t really comprehend that Wild was in any danger, he was kinda there. I honestly don’t know what they were doing when they reunited, but I do know that Wild is very happy that Kass is there.

#asks #strangers across eras #I hope this makes sense I’m so tired #but it was fun to explain #!

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babiebom · 2 months

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Doctor Who Villains and how I Feel about Them

A/N: idk why I’m on a doctor who streak right now(yes I do it’s taken the place of number one special interest again) but here’s some more of my scuffed content regarding it as a person who has only seen the revival of the show. Though I’ve said I probably won’t watch classic who the edits are getting to me and I might watch all of classic who literally just for Sarah Jane and the Doctor(all of them) being chaotic in a different way than they are in nuwho(I did not know the man used to throw hands like that why did no one tell me?). No the master is not included as a villain because they’re the loml and neither are the Ood it’s not their fault people be mind controlling them. The ratings are how much they scare me so 10 is a lot 0 is none

Tw: mentions of murder, cursing, death, yk dw things!!

Bc: at least 3 or 4 for each maybe more lmao

Doctor Who Masterlist

Daleks

Idk they’re not really scary to me

Like I’d probably be killed by them but they don’t scare me

Like oh no they can shoot at me

I’m from Texas people have guns here that’s like basic

Like I don’t think they’d let me get close enough

But if they did I think I could beat a dalek up

I would actually find a way I genuinely think they’re annoying

EXTERMINATE EXTERMINATE

Literally became one of the sounds I copy

Kinda iconic ngl but they show up way too damn much

I feel like the characters should be allowed to curse when Daleks are around

Like oh my fucking god YOU AGAIN?

DO YALL EVER GIVE UP DAMN????!!!!!

Literally I’m on season one of classic who and they show up HERE like WTF

6/10

Cybermen

Cybermen only scare me bc they kinda give me uncanny valley vibes bc they’re used to be humans.

Like that creeps me out

But I do think I could survive them if I hid well enough

Like actually they’re like only finding people who are making it obvious that they’re hiding

I’m turning off all the lights and opening the doors to make it look like my house has already been gone through

Like zombies but robots

8/10

Weeping Angels

Terrifying

Actually I hate them so much

Like WYM IM NOT ALLOWED TO BLINK

and as a black person I do NOT want to be sent back in time

I think I’d attempt to do the blink one eye at a time thing but I think I’d fail bc I’d be to focused on that

I WOULD however attempt to hit them with a sledgehammer

Like actually I would try to destroy them and then probably be sent back bc I don’t think that’s possible unless it is

I haven’t seen anyone try to just wreck they shit

15/10

Slitheen

They’re not scary at all

What are they gonna do fart me to death

I’m pretty sure it’s something like baking soda that you can kill them with

Like actually they’re no match for my feralness

And since they need larger people (in size and in height) they won’t go after me bc even though I’m chubby I’m short so they won’t try to get me anyways

Literally so easy

And I think they could just be straight up shot

2/10

Sontarans

They have no necks how are they gonna get me fr

Like actually again all they’re gonna do is shoot me

What are they gonna do CHASE ME?

Like if I hide well enough I can bonk them like Donna did

I feel like if I asked for hand to hand combat they might indulge me

They don’t know I know this one simple trick (being an absolute menace)

4/10

Beep The Meep

Unlike Rose Temple-Noble (or Noble-Temple)

I would not have been nice

I would’ve killed him with a hammer bc wtf

But probably if I didn’t kill him he would’ve killed me bc it’s hard to manipulate me because I’m always confused

Like he would actually get tired of me

And I don’t want the police at my house so you gotta go sorry

Like my dogs will tear you apart get out of here loser

3/10

The Empty Child

SCARY

Have you seen my mommy

Like actually scawwy

Like he’s just a baby and I would be gasmasked immediately bc I can’t help but try to comfort a child

I mean I literally work in childcare it’s something that I can’t help but to be like “omg well find your mommy baby it’s gonna be okay!!” Then immediately I’m possessed or whatever he did to those people

Kid is adorable tho

7/10

The Carrionites

The witches

They’re not really scary

And I don’t think I’d be in their way because I’m a woman and not powerful at all

So they won’t try to kill me or anything

Like actually irrelevant to their plot and they’re irrelevant to mine

Kinda funny tho

3/10

Cassandra

I mean in the words of the ninth doctor what is she gonna do? Moisturize me?

Like she’s a sentient trampoline she’s not scary at all

Literally throw something at her and she’s dead

Like somehow she managed to take over Rose’s body but like she wouldn’t do that to me

Not scary at all

Moisturize meeeeeeeeeeee

-2/10

The Celestial Toymaker

I LIKE HIM

I want to be twirled around by him!!!!!!!

But also I’m bad at games and can only win by accident

So I would actually be trapped in his dimension bc I would lose

But like eh? Not so bad me thinks

Especially if I can get him to change the terms of the game

He just seems so fun but tbh I think I would get tired of him quickly lmao

5/10

The Family of Blood

I’ve only watched the episodes once each because I actually hate them

So I don’t remember anything other than Martha threatening them with a gun

And honestly if they could be killed by that I think I’m fine

Like what were their powers or like ways of killing people

I don’t remember honestly just possessed people I think

Like that’s like not really scary seeing as they weren’t climbing walls and their heads weren’t spinning as far as I remember

2/10

The Thing in Midnight

Terrifying but also funny

Like haha you’re copying me

Jokes on you I’m not scared I’m just gonna be amused bc I’m gonna make you say stupid things

But also scary bc do not take my voice or my movement that’s mean

I just wanna make you say things that I think are funny be NICE TO ME

like actually I would’ve had fun but would’ve been scared in that episode

Though again in not easily manipulated so I wouldn’t have been part of the screaming and panic

Like would I have committed violence against stupid married couple and the train lady like WYM KICK HIM OUT OF THE SHIP ARE YOU DUMB

I feel like they all lacked common sense that episode but again I’m supposed to be talking about the thing

6/10

Futurekind

They’re literally just people but cannibals?

With sharp teeth

Like that’s not really scary that stuff exists right now

Like it didn’t looks like they ran faster nor did they have like special abilities

We’re afraid of guns and could be kept out by a fence

Actually just people

I could literally just shoot at them and they’d leave

Like okay you’re cannibals so are people now you’re not special and people get body mods all the time.

1/10

Judoon

Scary because they’re dumb

Like they don’t really understand anything except for their concept of justice and would kill me in an instant

Also kinda ugly

SHO TO RO TO LO TO FLO TO

I like the way they talk

But also if you’re innocent odds are they’ll leave you alone?

Unless you try to fight against them

So not really scary just like…honestly similar to the bad cops out there

Like scary but I shouldn’t be in their presence because I don’t think I do anything wrong

7/10

The NotThings

Honestly I just think clones are scary

Like you know that thing that’s like what would you do if a clone of you was right in front of you and it’s like fuck it or whatever

I would kill her

Not because I hate myself but seeing myself would terrify me and I would have to kill her out of sheer panic

And the fact that the more you think or talk the more they copy until they’re 100 percent an exact copy of you.

And irl with my friends I do have an unhinged sense of humor so they wouldn’t even be able to tell anything is wrong bc I talk about eating them and keeping them as a taxidermied thing every day because that how I portray my love (I swear I’m normal)

So they would be able to say all sorts of shit and my friends would be like lmao yeah that’s her unless they eat or do something I would absolutely never do

9/10 scary

The Silence

Do they even do anything except for be there?

Like I don’t think they bother people unless they’re feeling particularly evil I guess

They’re literally just npc’s

Like the most terrifying thing is like them being there when I poop or shower or something and I just keep forgetting they’re there.

So scary kinda but not really

They’re just kinda ugly

4/10

The Beast

I don’t remember anything about this person or thing

Other than it’s just like…satan?

Don’t kill me but I haven’t gone back to watch any season 2 episodes so I don’t really remember

So not really scary just alien satan

Like all I remember is the drawing on dudes face like oh well

And I’m pretty sure the doctor defeated him by breaking some vase or something

Because I don’t remember he gets a low scare rating

3/10

The Smilers

I DONT THINK I WATCHED THIS WHOLE EPISODE

But I was not happy with the doll head thing turn around and look angry

Like NAUR WHAT DID I DO?????????

Was this the episode with the big ass space whale????

I think they were feeding the whale

They kinda terrified me bc imagine going to like a fortune teller booth with the little fake people and it just gives you a bad fortune and it’s face is mad at you now

Like HUH was misfortune am I gonna have because of this

Like 6/10

A literal Sun

BURN WITH MEEEEEEEEE

I just rewatched 42

Honestly scary in the fact that I hate the sun because it’s too hot and I hate it when it’s hot

And the fact that it’s a LIVING SUN and can POSSESS PEOPLE

Like WTF do you mean??????

But also I would have never done what miss girl did so I would not be forced to burn

Also I just read a hella good fic on ao3 that’s tenmartha and the sun is still possessing ten and is OBSESSED with Martha and literally only wants love.

So that has also changed my opinion

So like 5/10 scary but wouldn’t try to kill me because I’m nice.

Tecteun

THIS BITCH

I’m not scared of her nor will I ever be

Would beat her to death with my own hands

Or with a hammer

Deserves no kindness

Like actually who takes advantage of an actual child?????

Insane people that’s who

She better hope she never sees me out in these streets

-5000/10

Toclafane

This just makes me sad

Like they really wanted to go to Utopia and ended up as these things???????

Also just balls that can shoot you????

I think a baseball bat and a good swing would allow you to survive as long as it’s only like one or two

They also have the spinny knives but I think you can avoid them if you try and aren’t trapped

Like haha you stupid metal ball try to get me now as I go in all the hidey holes that you can’t fit in because you’re METAL

6/10

Vashta Nerada

THESE EPISODES WERE NOT OKAY

like what do you MEAN there’s little monsters in shadows

I have to SLEEP in the dark

What do you MEAN they’re responsible for the bones left in roadkill WTF

actually terrifying

Can just kill me whenever it’s dark?

BFFR

They’re name is actually cool though

Also the episode we meet miss mother river song

But like can turn me into just bones in a second

That’s rude

Literally no way to survive unless you’re always in light

And they can turn lights off (I think) so like ur fucked dude

10/10

The Autons

Terrifying

I’m already scared of mannequins and this is like a nightmare come true.

The only way I survive this is if I immediately run

Like I don’t think y’all understand I HATE MANNEQUINS

Also the fact that their limbs can still move detached is scary

Like actually being an adult that’s already afraid of these things I would actually just piss my pants and die on the spot

Only funny part is nine being choked in the back ground and even my first time watching I was so nervous for him

And auton Mickey is actually a nightmare I hated that

9/10 hate them

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