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ilguna · 6 months

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Can I get 6 and 23 from list 2 with Finnick please?

☼ sunburst (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing, gun use, blood mention, ehh gore.

wc; 2.5k

prompt; 6. "I know, it hurts. I'm so sorry, but we have to get this out." AND 23. "You need to keep your eyes open. Just a little longer."

When you were recruited to be a part of the mission to storm the Capitol, you were under the impression that you’d actually be in some danger. You spent weeks training in District Thirteen, thinking that you were going to be running for your life every waking moment. It was supposed to be more like being inside of an arena, than a walk on the bad side of District Four.

Both of which you can handle, for the record.

What you can’t handle is the boredom that comes with being a member of the Star Squad. While you were told you’d be at the front lines with the rest of the rebels, the reality is that you’re stuck days behind them. President Coin is too afraid of putting their precious Mockingjay into danger.

It’s an interesting concept, considering that Katniss has expressed no issue in the past surrounding the idea of putting her life on the line. The first time she did this was when she wanted to get sent to District Eight, an active battlezone, to see the citizens there. The next time was District Two, where a gun was held to her head, and she still proceeded to give a speech, and got shot for it.

You suppose that’s the exact problem, though. She can be a magnet for trouble, whether she intends to be or not. In that case, you’re not sure why they didn’t tell you that you’d be stuck here with a mixed group, beforehand. You might’ve changed your mind and found a different way to help the rebellion.

And it’s not like you haven’t tried to have patience, because you have. It’s been severely run thin by the propo team—a camera crew from the Capitol, their only job being to film videos to slice together to show the districts. Their incessant need to get a shot of absolutely everything that’s going on has got you beyond irritated.

They’re so demanding with it, and all it is is a bunch of bullshit. They want you to walk down the street the right way, looking fierce and in the middle of battle. When in reality, there’s no one for a several mile radius, and all the threats are being given away by the Holo. A device that was made to tell you where the traps, the pods, are.

If you could, you’d tell them that you’re done participating, but you really have no choice. You’ve been seen in so many of their other videos, that it’ll make the districts and the Capitol question why you’re not in the rest. Either they’ll think that you died, or that you’ve decided the rebellion isn’t worth fighting for.

Which isn’t true in the slightest. You just think that it’s morally wrong to be back here, pretending like you’re fighting, when the faceless rebels at the front lines are the ones almost getting killed everyday. You want to be up there, with them.

The rebels ahead don’t set off all the pods, though. They leave the mild ones behind, marking them as such, assuming that the group behind them will take it out when they pass. That group happens to be you.

Sometimes, Boggs, the squad leader, will see a pod on the Holo, so he’ll ask for volunteers to set it off, naturally. You don’t even know what the point of raising your hand is, anymore. He won’t call on you, or Finnick, or Katniss. He keeps his attention on the District Thirteen trained soldiers to do the important tasks.

Despite the fact that you had, once again, spent weeks training to be able to do something like that.

What will happen is that Katniss will pretend to set off the pod with an arrow at a distance, to keep her from getting hurt by accident. While a soldier off to the side will trigger it. This makes the rest of you all duck for cover, afraid of whatever the pod has to offer. And when it’s all said and done, and you’re ready to move on, the next step is to reenact your reactions to defending yourself from whatever threat came out of the pod.

It’s been four days of this, and it’s driving you crazy. You’ll spend a few hours pretending to fight, and then return to camp for the rest of the night, safely out of harm's way. It’s taking everything in you not to ask Boggs to leave to go back to the Nut, where the rest of the rebel soldiers are. Maybe there, you can get reassigned.

The problem would be convincing Finnick to go with you, because he doesn’t mind being in the Star Squad. He thinks it’s great, because that means you’re not in any immediate danger. After what they did to Peeta, the last thing he wants is for the Capitol to potentially get their hands on you, or for you to die.

Neither of which you plan on letting happen.

The only way you’ll be able to get him to leave is if you do it without bringing it up to him first. Cut out the whole conversation on how he’d prefer if you went with Coin’s plan, instead of making your own. He has a way with words, and he knows this. That’s why your resolve can crumble in the matter of fifteen minutes, all because he’s the one reasoning with you.

That’s what you’ll do tonight then; you’ll go talk to Boggs.

The Holo begins to beep loudly, warning your squad that you’re coming close to a pod. Boggs slows his pace, opening it up to take a look. When he comes to a full stop, so do you.

A sigh escapes you, Finnick glances over, watching as you turn around to take a few steps away. This is the fourth pod that you’ve come across today, meaning that Boggs will probably call it a day after this. Even though you’ve covered more distance today than you have the past three.

“The Holo says it’s going to be a swarm of muttation gnats.” Boggs says, “Who wants to hit it?”

You turn to face the squad, watching as almost every hand flies up, with the exception of you, Finnick and Katniss. Even Gale, Katniss’s best friend from Twelve, has his hand raised. You think he’s been tasked once, which is the hope he’s probably holding on to.

Regardless, Boggs motions at one of the Leeg twins. “Leeg, I want you. The rest of you, go find someone to stand in the meantime.”

You cross your arms over your chest, shaking your head. “Predictable.”

“Come on, (Y/n).” Finnick grabs the underside of your arm, pulling you with him to the other side of the street.

The pod is disguised as an electrical box on the side of an orange shop. If it weren’t for the Holo, you wouldn’t have suspected a thing of it, but that’s the whole point. The pods are hidden in plain sight, meant for your eyes to glance over them, so that they can kill you later on.

The best the Capitol can do is gnats?

“Okay, Katniss, we’ll focus on pulling the arrow back, and holding it.” Cressida begins, she’s the one that has the specific propo visions. If this doesn’t go according to her plan, she’ll rework it and have Katniss do it over again until it’s right.

“Just a regular arrow?” Katniss asks, reaching back to grab one.

“No, we’ll have Leeg set off the pod, and then you’ll use an explosive arrow to kill the gnats.” Cressida says, looking at Boggs. He gives her an approving nod.

“What happens when that shot isn’t good enough and we have to start over?” You mutter, Finnick bumps your shoulder.

“I know you’re unhappy, but can we please not make enemies out of the people that could save our lives?” Finnick asks.

You look at Finnick, “I’m not making promises I won’t keep.”

You watch as Cressida gives Katniss directions on where to stand and how to hold her bow. This gives the cameramen, Castor and Pollux, enough time to find their angles, because realistically, there won’t be an opportunity for reshoots. With one of them on Katniss, and the other on the pod, Cressida gives Boggs the go ahead.

“On the count of three, Leeg.” Boggs tells her. Finnick adjusts his footing, prepared to duck if necessary. You don’t move from where you stand, staring dead at the pod. “One, two, three!”

Leeg shoots at the pod, piercing the metal that encases the gnats, leaving bullet holes. The sound of metal on metal screeches through the quiet street, as the door swings open, releasing what’s inside.

A startled scream comes from you as piercing pains hit you all across your body, throwing you back onto the ground. The back of your head slams against the cement of the sidewalk, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut, as the world begins to spin.

“(Y/n)?” Finnick’s voice wavers.

The punctured points in your body begin to deepen, as the shrapnel from the box begins to burrow in your skin. You grunt, writhing, eyes opening suddenly to see it for yourself.

It’s not shrapnel, they’re metal darts, and they've got claws that are digging into your skin.

“No!” Someone cries.

“We need the medic team!” Jackson barks, her voice is clear. “We’ve got two down, Boggs!”

“Copy.” He says.

From what you can tell, you got a brunt of the hit, a consequence of not taking cover like you were instructed to. There’s over a dozen of these, stuck in your body, going deeper as the seconds tick on.

“Get them out.” Your voice is rough, as you reach to grab one. “Get them out of me!”

“(Y/n), honey—” Finnick seizes your hand, keeping you from doing it. “Stop, leave them.”

“They’re in me!” You cry, “They’re going to kill me.”

“We can’t take them out. We learned this, remember? They’re stinting the blood, we have to wait for—”

“No, she’s right.” Katniss is standing at your feet. “Look at them.”

You don’t want to, not when they all move at once, ripping your skin open further. You can see the brief stream of blood in the air, before it’s gone, covered by the dart. It’s not large enough to block the chunk of skin it’s pulled from your body, though, because the blood begins to pool, quickly.

“Shit.” Finnick says.

There’s a girl crying, when you lift your head to see, you find that it’s the other Leeg sister, on her knees, next to the first one. The one that had shot at the pod, now has a dart sticking out of the side of her head. It’s already found her brain.

She’s dead.

You begin to breathe heavier when you realize that this will be your fate, too, if they don’t start to pull them out. Which must be the same conclusion that Finnick comes to, because he rolls back his sleeves, hands hovering over one of them.

You grab the heel of his shoe, knowing that you’ll need something to hold on to. He gives you a look, and you nod quickly, urging him to do it. The second that his hand is around the dart, it begins to wiggle. To keep it from going further, he yanks.

You scream, throwing your head back, body tense, as the entire world goes white. It clings on, refusing to be pulled off in just one attempt.

“Stop!” You tell them, “Stop!”

“Katniss, I need help.” Finnick says.

She drops her bow without question to get to her knees to help him. You watch through blurred tears as she holds the dart while he pries the claws apart. It’s like a thousand needles jabbing into your skin repeatedly, refusing to leave the area alone.

And then they get it free, and the first tear slides down your cheek.

The metal clinks on the ground from Katniss dropping it.

You can’t help the sob that breaks through your lips. This is just the beginning isn’t it?

“Hold on, honey.” He tells you.

“I don’t—”

He begins to pull at this dart, more aggressive than he was the first time. Unprepared, you cry through gritted teeth, squeezing his shoe. He manages to unhook it faster this time, but that means little to you.

Him and Katniss go back and forth, pulling them out of the areas they think will hurt the least. There’s a few times where their hands slip, which causes an indescribable pain.

The pool of blood beneath you is growing. You can feel the puddle reach your fingers on your free hand, coating your skin in red.

“There’s only two left, (Y/n).” Finnick smooths your hair back. “These will hurt the most.”

“Just wait.” You tell him, grabbing onto the bunched sleeve.

“We can’t stop, or it’ll keep digging in.” He tells you. “Breathe, okay?”

“Finnick.” You warn, bracing yourself when he secures his hand around the metal dart, beginning to pull.

The feeling of your guts being yanked from your body, makes the dark spots at the corners of your vision come around quickly. For a moment, you’re gone, drifting off into the peaceful voice, until Finnick’s lifting your head up with one hand.

“You need to keep your eyes open. Just a little longer.” Finnick tells you

“I can’t.” You sniff. “I want to be done.”

“One more.” He tells you, lowering your head back to the ground.

“No.” Your lips tremble.

He grabs the dart, you squeeze your eyes shut. “Please! Please, please, please! It hurts!”

“I know, it hurts.” Finnick says, he doesn’t sound very happy that he has to do this to you. “I’m so sorry, baby, but we have to get this out.”

This one has decided to hold on, taking twice as long as it normally does. For a second, it almost slips out of their hands, when Finnick’s able to pry the claws open.

A faint sense of relief floods through you, but it’s gone when your body begins to tingle. “Finnick.” You whisper. With a shaky hand, you dip your fingers into one of the many wounds that will end up being scars. The exposed raw flesh against your fingers makes you nauseous.

It subsides slightly when you pull your hand out, and find an orange substance mixed with the blood.

Poison.

“No.” Finnick says, looking at Boggs, presumably. “How far out are the medics?”

“They’ll be here any minute.” He says, coming over to see better.

“They need to have an antidote ready.” Finnick’s voice echoes, bouncing back and forth in your head, as he splits into two people, then four…

Your eyes flutter shut.

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

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glossglamour · 2 months

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Full Robert Sean Leonard 'House'-a-palooza Interview: "As we know, I’m straight, but yeah, it’s like, homina homina homina."

May 01 2006 | By Maureen Ryan

Do you watch the show much?

"I can't watch it. I mean, Hugh doesn't watch it because he's anal and … eight years old. [laughs] And by the way, I don’t buy it, I think he does watch it.

“I watched in the first year. We live in New York and [my fiancé] was in California] and she likes it because I’m on it. But then she left, she had to come back to New York, and what are you going to do? The idea of me watching myself on TV, alone in Santa Monica, was just about... just short of, like, a bottle of Maker’s Mark and a shotgun away from shooting myself. [much laughter] So I haven’t watched it all season. But when I have watched it, I’ve been mildly confused and Hugh is appropriately grumpy."

I have this theory that a lot of my favorite shows aren’t even about what they’re supposed to be about -- they have to be set in a hospital or police station or outer space or whatever because the network can market that, but they’re secretly not even about that. Like, “House” is really about ethics and morality.

“Yeah, sure, I think that’s true.”

But you can’t pitch that show to the network. “Hey, we have this great show that examines personal morality!"

“‘It’s based on “A View from the Bridge.”’

Right! They’re really going to for that.

“Yeah. [laughs] I think it’s good, and when it’s right, when the show works, the mystery works. It has a Sherlock Holmes-ian feel to it, and you do kind of want to know what’s wrong with [the patients]. And it is interesting, the turns and twists that get you there. And there’s always a little bit of character-driven fun stuff in between, of who these people are and how they affect each other. And that’s it at its best. And I guess that could be true of any show.

“It’s tricky, you’ve got a lead character [who’s different from the TV norm] and you’ve got to be careful because those characters can be one-note. He’s the cranky guy, he’s the Australian guy, I’m the friend in one or two scenes a week. You just have to be careful, and I think we are, we have a really great team of writers. And the numbers are building, people are watching.”

So this two-parter on May 2 and 3, I think the unofficial subtitle is the “Festival of Foreman.” I guess they’re his Emmy episodes, and that’s fine. But you’re hardly in them, what’s up with that?

“Honestly, I’m okay. I don’t want an Emmy. This is what I want -- I know exactly what I want. I did play with a guy named Skip Sudduth, ‘The Iceman Cometh,’ seven years ago. I saw him five years later, and I said, ‘Geez, Skip, where have you been? I don’t see you at readings anymore.’ He said, ‘I’ve been on “Third Watch.”’ It sounded familiar but I’d never seen it. He said, ‘I’ve been doing it for five years.’ I said, ‘Holy crap!’ And he was back doing theater. That’s my dream.

“And it’s happening. I walk down the street and people say, ‘Where are you?’ and I say, ‘I’m on this show called “House.”’ My friend Lewis Black [from 'The Daily Show'] said, ‘What is it called? “Head”?’

“I’m okay. I’ve never been happier than where my career is now. And I don’t want it to change necessarily. Money’s good, and I’m glad I’m getting that, and I’m putting it away for later in life when I do more Tom Stoppard plays at Lincoln Center and make no money. But really, I’m great. I don’t mind working two days a week.

“Because those other guys, the Scooby gang, or the Mod Squad -- they are at that studio for 16 hours a day saying ‘tachycardia, lupus, blablahdeblah.’ Honestly, I’d kill myself if had to do those scenes for that long. I’m very happy with the size of my role, I don’t want it to get any bigger. I’m happy.”

So we won’t see the very special “House” episode where Dr. Wilson almost dies?

“That might be how I get off the show.” [laughs]

Well, you could die and come back as a ghost. Then it would be the “House Whisperer.”

“Yeah [laughs]. The hair makeup people were saying one day, ‘Oh, I love those scenes with you and Hugh, there should be more of that.’ And I’m like, ‘Shhh! Don’t say that!’ I’m the luckiest man in Hollywood. I work only with Hugh, pretty much, who’s great. And I work two days a week.”

Do you fly back and forth to New York then?

"No, not really. They don’t let me because they need me around, the schedule changes so much. I’m going to try to get away with that a little more [in the upcoming season]. Now that [my fiancé] is here, I really will kill myself if I’m out there as much as I was last year, without her.”

So five days a week you’re doing what – Botox injections? Going to the mall? Watching “Maury”?

“Rob Lowe once said the secret to being an actor in L.A. is sleeping as late as you possibly can and going to be as early as possible. I remember him saying, ‘I recommend pajamas by 4:30 p.m.’”

What’s interesting about this show is that they’re taken something that could be a very formulaic procedural and quite often turn it on its head.

“I didn’t know anything about TV, I’d never done [a TV show], but I now know very well that there are procedurals and character-driven shows. ‘Law & Order’ is a procedural and ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ is a character-driven show. The test [as to which category a show is in], someone once said to me, which I thought was hysterical, is this question: Did Sam Waterston sleep with [the assistant DA] on ‘Law & Order’? If the answer is ‘I don’t give a [hoot], I want to know the next element of the case,’ then it’s a procedural.

“Our show is weirdly, and there must be precedent for this, but it’s weirdly equally both. I think it’s very much a procedural, and without that sick patient every week, we wouldn’t work. And without the character stuff it wouldn’t work. And weirdly, people do care if House sleeps with one of our characters, and also care equally what’s wrong with this person and how they’re going to solve the case.”

I guess I like the character stuff better, but you’re right, it probably wouldn’t work without the suspense of the weekly case and somebody being critically ill.

“No, I think you need that. I think the echoes of Sherlock Holmes are too strong. The original idea of the show was House and Wilson, like Holmes and Watson. But it got away from that, and his team is Watson, if you want to be technical about it.

“I’m more like … the only way I’ve found to define it, and it’s so pretentious that it makes me want to jump out a window, is like King Lear’s fool. I’m like the only one who tells him the truth. And [Wilson] has nothing to lose. I don’t work for him and he doesn’t work for me. I’m the only character who chooses to be with him as opposed to being there because of a job. And because of that I have the freedom to tell him what I think. Not that Cuddy holds back much.”

I think her role is to say, "No! Bad House!"

“Have you talked to Lisa Edelstein [who plays Cuddy]? She’s so great. This Japanese woman once said to her, ‘You on “ER”!’ And she said, ‘I have been on “ER,” but now I’m on “House.”’ And [the woman says] ‘Oh yes, “House.” You say, “No, you don’t!”’ Every time we do the table read, I burst into laughter at some point, because there is the voice of that woman in my head, ‘You say “No, you don’t!”’ That’s the entire definition of Lisa’s character. Not completely, but we laugh [about it]. We have the same dilemma. We’re on this show that we’re … kind of on. Crew members say, ‘How long have you been on the show?’ ‘Uh, since the pilot.’ They really don’t know what we’re doing there.”

So in terms of the other stuff going on in your career, that’s going well, all the theater stuff?

“I’ve achieved everything I wanted to do. When I was growing up, I wanted to be Kevin Kline, Sam Waterston. I grew up watching the Public Theater and Shakespeare in the park and Marion Seldes. I mean, I may as well be gay.”

I’m not entirely sure you’re not.

[laughs] “But the thing is, I got it [i.e. his goals]. I’ve done 14 Broadway shows and got a Tony award, and now I’m making money and no one even really knows. I’m getting away with murder. If I come back to New York in two years and nothing’s changed, I’ll be thrilled. All I really want to do is [act in] plays, play with my dog, have kids. My desires are pretty simple. I don’t really want to do movies anymore. I’m pretty tired of camera acting.”

Why are you tired of camera acting? Is it the repetition of it?

“No, no, quite the opposite. We don’t rehearse enough. We do scenes where people barely know their lines, where people just about know their lines. In theater, you do it so many times and you get so familiar that then you can actually start having fun with it. And I really miss that feeling.

“It’s true of films too. I don’t know. I think I’m fine on film, but … I have walked offstage and thought, ‘Wow, no one has done that better. People may have done it as well, but not better.' I’ve actually had that feeling after ‘Long Day’s Journey Into Night,’ or a Shaw play or whatever. I’ve never felt that way with film. I always feel like, ‘Boy, Donald Sutherland would have done that a lot better.’ [laughs] I just don’t think it’s what I do best. I think I’m fine, but there are people who are eerily good at it. In all humility, of which I have none [laughs], that’s how I feel about my work on stage. I really do feel that I’m gifted at it.”

Just to change gears completely, what happens in the finale?

“Well, I think the finale is a bit of a cliffhanger. Something very exciting happens. It’s extremely exciting and freaky and I think it’s great. I can’t say what it is. You end this season very curious about how the next season is going to start. It’s a great final show and a big cliffhanger.”

So it seems like Hugh Laurie is so disparaging of his own talents. But he’s so good as House.

“Some people ask me, ‘Oh, why does Wilson want to hang out with House so much?’ and I’m like, ‘You idiot.’ [laughs] House is designed to be attractive! He’s brilliant, he’s self-deprecating, he has a limp. But yeah, Hugh hates himself and he’s very funny about it. There’s no better combination in my book. Like Lewis Black.”

But as an acting partner, he’s good to work with?

“Oh yeah. The thing is, with this part, Hugh has a huge obstacle he has to deal with, having an American accent. His problem isn’t our problem. We as the audience don’t have that problem, because what he doesn’t know is that he does it perfectly. But of course he doesn’t hear that. That’s why he can’t watch the show.

“When you’re doing an accent, you don’t feel like you’re interesting in the role. Even if everyone around is telling you that you are. And to be in a play is one thing, but to be on TV show that runs for years, I don’t know how he’s going to do it. To be that hard on yourself and be that disappointed in your own work. But as I said, and underline this four times, he’s wrong.”

And then he obviously hates when anyone calls him a sex symbol. You read his quotes when people ask him about that stuff and you can feel the embarrassment rising off the page.

“Yeah, he hates that stuff. And even more than the ‘sexy’ stuff, he hates the ‘you’re brilliant’ stuff. Of course there’s a part of him that likes him, there’s a part of all of us that likes that. [But him being hard on his performance], it’s not false vanity.

“I think Hugh does work he’s proud of and does work he thinks is good, I’m just not sure it’ll ever be this [show]. Having an accent… acting is letting go and forgetting yourself, it’s the opposite of ego. It’s flying away and getting away from yourself and forgetting. And when you’re doing an accent, it’s virtually impossible to do that.

“It’s hard when you're in a play, doing the same lines, the same way for eight months. Hugh learns 72 new lines a day and has to put an American accent on them. It really is an actor’s nightmare. I’ve done [with accents] Brian Friel plays, Martin Sherman plays, Tom Stoppard plays, and maybe five months into it you have a night where you kind of feel OK and kind of forget the accent and let go and let the scene happen. To have a strange accent in your mouth while playing a role, and then be judged for it, that’s hard stuff.

“And can I tell you, when you have dinner with Hugh Laurie [speaking in his real accent]… I miss that voice.”

Yeah. He called me once directly for an interview. I was expecting the publicist to put him through, but it was just that voice on the phone. I was sort of thrown for a minute.

“As we know, I’m straight, but yeah, it’s like, homina homina homina.” [laughs]

---- [source (part 2)] | part 1 | part 3 ---

it took me two hours to track this interview down. it might be the longest one he's ever done. first i tracked it down to tumblr pages posting about it with no source please stop doing that. then i found a short youtube video of laurie saying "homina homina" on an snl skit i think and someone in the comments mentioned the site where the rsl interview was posted. however the site wouldn't let me in, i guess they took it down so i headed to archive dot org. i didn't have a specific link though so that didn't really work out either. then for nearly an hour i tried a wide range of word combinations on google until i stumbled upon a livejournal page of rpf hugh laurie/rsl fanfic. SOMEONE tysm karaokegal posted the exact link i was looking for in the comments. quick trip to the wayback machine and here you go!

i should be on those ethical hacking competition things

#house md #hatecrimes md #gg.txt #robert sean leonard #rsl #interview #source hunting success #hugh laurie #james wilson #gregory house #i nearly went insane #trying to find this thing #part 3 is an interview w katie jacobs #part 1 is general quotes #muted

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

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Dirty Work 7

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: This week is killing me.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Sunday sees your second day in your new position. As you send off your letter of resignation to the agency, you can't help the coil that winds tight in your stomach. There's no going back now.

You close out of the several templates you Googled in your efforts. It's the one thing you know how to do. Willa, the friendly librarian who checked out the PC for you, always said, if you can Google, you can figure it out. Still, you feel like there's so much you don't know that you're not sure a search engine can answer.

You close the laptop and take both your phones with you into the hallway. You have to go check out that gazebo and figure out if you need to make a call about it. Oh, and the fridge was beeping when you filled your bottle, you have to call the maintenance number that flashed up too.

That makes you even more anxious. You've never really been the sort for phone calls. You never had anyone to talk to and everything else was easier done in person. Well, you'll have to muddle through. Work isn't supposed to be fun or easy.

As you near the staircase, your flip chimes. You juggle to answer the right phone. The slim touchscreen is set only to buzz, an option not available on the clumsy burner. You answer the call as you stop on the top stair.

The woman on the other end asks for you by name. You confirm your identity as you hear familiar noises in the background. She's a nurse from the downtown hospital.

“I'm calling to confirm your father's discharge tomorrow at noon,” she says over the rustle of paper and clack of keys, “we'll need the bed so if there is any delay, another day would be added to the invoice.”

“I understand, I'll be there, erm… noon. Tomorrow,” you don't have your notebook so you key a reminder into the other phone. “Thank you for letting me know.”

“Of course, miss, we would recommend you arrive earlier. We have some resources and counseling available on what you can expect getting the patient settled at home,” she continues, “nine would be ideal. I'll be able to add a note for the doctor to check in as well.”

“Oh, yes, I can do that,” you squeak, “thank you.”

“Alright then, I have all that logged. You have a good day.”

“You too,” you utter before the line dies.

Phone calls weren't too bad. You think you did okay with that one. Then again, you didn't think! You're supposed to work tomorrow. Mr. Laufeyson said you could take Wednesday off, and tomorrow is only Monday.

You close the flip phone and stare at it. Oh boy. You really don't want to spoil this. Just the mention of the coming invoice underlines your desperation. You need the money. Your dad needs it.

“Are you finished?” Mr. Laufeyson's timbre drawls from down the hall. You glance over as he stands just in the doorway of his study. You gulp.

“Sorry, Mr. Laufeyson. I didn't mean to disturb–”

“Yet you did,” he insists.

“I was only going to check–”

“Not my concern so long as it's done,” he waves you off, “an important call, I assume, to make such a racket.”

“Mr. Laufeyson, um,” you shove the phones away, one in each of your pockets. “I… could I have the day tomorrow? Instead of Wednesday. My father is getting out of the hospital and–”

“The day? What time?” He snips as he approaches with decisive steps.

“Well, I'm supposed to go at nine,” you explain, “I'll come in Wednesday still.”

“You will come in tomorrow, after all that,” he says. “You can work later then.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson, but my father will need help getting settled–”

“Figure it out. You agreed to this schedule–”

“I did but–” you stop yourself as his eyes flare, “I will be here in the afternoon, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“You will be. In the appropriate attire, I expect,” he snarls and spins to strut back to his office, swinging the door shut sharply.

You waver at the hard slam. You didn't mean to anger him. You can't help that your father needs you. You thought Mr. Laufeyson would be more understanding, after all, he's the one who pointed out how much you needed the money.

🧹

Your father shoos you away as you try to help him sit. He lets go of the walker and flops back with a grunt, his oxygen tank clinking against the aid’s metal leg. He coughs and snatches around blindly on the cushion for the remote. You retrieve it from the folding table beside him and put it in his hand.

That agitates him further as he growls and jams down the button to turn on the television. You yawn and back away. You still have a full day left ahead of you, and what feels like one behind you. You spent the night doing some last minute tidying to make sure everything is read for your father.

“Smokes,” he snaps his fingers and hacks.

“Er,” you hesitate. You go to find the half-crushed pack you found with him on the floor. You knew better than to throw it out. You return to him, clutching the package nervously, “Dr. Shearer said–”

“Give it to me,” he demands.

You relent and obey. He’s been doubly miserable than before. You feel like an annoying gnat buzzing around his head as he tries to swat you away.

“I made you meals for the weak. They’re all labeled in the fridge–”

“I’m not a goddamn kid,” he scowls and takes the lighter from the folding table.

“I know, but–”

“But I’m home. You probably hate that,” he sneers, “you’d be happy if I died in that hospital.”

You’re taken aback by the accusation. You gasp and shake your head, “of course not, I’m happy you’re here. That you’re alive–”

“Painfully,” he snorts darkly, “the fuck you keep me here for?”

You take a breath and frown. Your eyes tinge and your cheeks pinch, “because you're my dad… and I love you,” you croak.

He doesn’t reply as he pulls out a cigarette and moves the tube from below his nose. You watch him, waiting. He lights the smoke and sucks on it eagerly. You drop your head and give a shrug.

“I gotta go to work,” you say, “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Don’t be slamming around when you come in,” he dusts ash over the freshly vacuumed carpet, “doctor said I needa sleep.”

“I won’t,” you promise and back away.

As you leave the room, your chest plummets in dread. You think of coming home, of finding him like you did before, laying on the floor, lifeless. You sniff and swipe away the speckling of tears. More than you want him to love you, you want him to love himself. You don’t just want him to want you around, you want him to be around.

🧹

You hurry up to Mr. Laufeyson’s gate with your kit and water bottle jostling. You fumble around until you find the smartphone and bring up the digits to punch into the code box. You buzz through and shuffle inside. You set off on your usual path around the back.

You stop at the rear door and try to untangle the strap of the water bottle from your kit. Your hand lingers on the front of the ballooning shirt. You still haven’t gone to look for clothes so you did your best with what you had. One of your father’s forgotten button-ups and a pair of pants that could pass in an office. It’s ill-fitting and scratch but better than jeans.

You get inside and leave your kit in the closet. Today’s a cleaning day but you have a few things to check off the schedule first. With your water bottle bouncing on your hip, you go upstairs and scurry down to the library.

As you enter, you’re surprised to discover the space less than empty. You apologise aloud and choke on the word, ‘mister’. It isn’t the house’s single resident as you expect, no, this figure could not be more different than Mr. Laufeyson. You recognise them, from the dinner.

The blond man faces you as he stands by the window, the drapes open to add the peculiarity of the situation. Like the man, the space is golden with sunlight. You lean back on your heel as you clutch the door handle.

“Hello,” he grins as he greets you in a playful demeanour. You can’t answer. You don’t know if you should.

Is it rule one; don’t speak unless permitted; or the other rule, do not disturb my guests. You can’t figure out the riddle so you languish in perplexity.

“Aren’t you a sweet little lamb,” he muses as he steps away from the window, placing his hands on the back of the dimpled leather chair. His large hands. If you thought Mr. Laufeyson was tall, this man is even taller and twice as wide. “I remember you. The sweet maid.”

You blink. Where is Mr. Laufeyson? You can’t speak. You’re too terrified; not just of the strange man but of the one you know by name. Your employer would be unhappy to know you spoke out of turn.

“Have you seen my brother at all?” He prompts disregarding your stagnant silence. “Has he spoken of me? His brother? I'm Thor.”

You look down at your hand on the door handle.

“And what is your name?” He asks.

You don’t answer. You know it’s not right but you have no other choice. You pull the door shut and close the man in. You retreat in a half-sprint and barrel back down the stairs. You trip at the bottom and barely save yourself from stumbling to your knees.

You latch onto the banister post to keep your balance and catch your breath. You hear the door above. Oh no, would he follow you? Another door clicks and you look up to find a shadow on the other side of the frosted glass framed in the front entrance.

Mr. Laufeyson steps inside coolly, unbothered as swings the door shut and tugs on the lapel of his suit jacket. His eyes fall on you and he scuffs on his sole, tilting his head in curiosity. You didn’t realise he hadn’t even been there. You look at the ceiling with wide eyes; so how was the other man inside?

“Well, there you are,” he says matter-of-factly, “this place is sore in need of a dusting–”

Laufeyson is interrupted by a clamour of footsteps above. You let go of the banister and sidle away as his green eyes flick to the top to the staircase. You shy away and listen as the man descends in a series of thunder thumps. You turn to peek down the hall, wanting to hide in your chores.

“Stay,” Laufeyson commands. You turn back to him as he points at your feet. You stop in place and sway. He faces his visitor as he comes to the bottom stair, “brother, what is the meaning of this intrusion?”

“Can I not come see my baby brother?” The other man; the stranger; his brother, called Thor, booms.

“You may, when you warn me of it,” Laufeyson rebuffs.

“Ah, don’t be so grim,” Thor claps his shoulders and is swiftly shrugged off, “this place is always so dark. I hope you don’t mind, I opened a few windows.”

“I do mind,” Laufeyson says, “you do always presume.”

“And you are always offer such a warm welcome,” he tries to tap Laufeyson’s cheek but is batted away. The dark of the brothers backs up with a scoff. “Ah, and there she is. I was only just coming to find the little maid. She rushed off so suddenly–”

“You don’t need to bother with her,” Laufeyson dismissed with a slice of his hand through the air, “maid,” he points at you again, “back to work.”

You lean back on your heel, ready to disappear.

“Ah, don’t be so rude, brother. She is sweet. You get more bees with honey–”

“Do not tell me how to run my house,” Laufeyson growls, an edge in his voice you’ve never heard before. Dangerous and dark.

“Is she not doing you a service? A please would be appropriate–”

“You are not mother. I don’t need you to mind my manners,” Laufeyson girds and nears his brother, unflinching even as he comes up a few inches short of chest to chest, “nor do you need to worry for my staff. She does not take orders from you.”

“And I suppose that’s all she gets from you,” Thor chuckles.

You furrow your brow, stunned by their spat. You’re not quite sure what that last bit meant. You work for Mr. Laufeyson so of course he would tell you what to do. And why are they so volatile? They’re brothers. You don’t have any siblings but you always wanted one. So that you had a friend. So you weren’t alone.

“Maid, go,” Laufeyson repeats, “now.”

Your eyes widen and you nod. You quickly turn and rush down the hall to the closet. You’re shaking as you try to sort out one phone from the other and find the old list of tasks. You can hardly steady your hands to get a pair of gloves on.

You take your time in the back of the house as you hear the men’s footfalls climb the staircase. You let your nerves settle just a little. You’re alone, for now, and your mission is simple. Clean and stay unseen.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #dirty work #maid au #au #series #avengers #thor #mcu #marvel

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faerlygraceful · 2 months

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So I rewatched all of the “Begins” episodes last night and it only managed to cement my head canons about Tommy, which began forming after we saw him again.

Of course I don’t know if they thought this was going to be where the character ended up when they filled the firehouse back in season 2. I don’t know what Lou thought about his character. I don’t know what the intentions were. What I am doing (since this is my head canon), is taking new knowledge and using it to recategorize previous interactions. I’m queer, it’s what we all do.

So I’m going to share my analysis with all of y’all cause this is the internet, and I’m allowed.

Spoilers for… well everything.

Tommy is one of the three characters who shows up in all three Begins episodes, the other two being Athena and Sal DeLuca. His first appearance in the show is Hen Begins, but as we know Chimney Begins is chronologically first, so we’re starting there.

Chimney Begins

1) We first see Tommy when probie Howie walks in. He doesn’t seem to notice that Howie is a probie, asking who didn’t tip the takeout guy. Gerrard quickly takes the role of antagonist, and that’s when we move on.

2) At one point when they’re coming back from a call after Howie has been there a while, Tommy says, in a surprised tone, “You’re still here?” I think this is less of a, “You don’t belong here,” and more of a, “You’ve been here for weeks/months and haven’t been out once, I would have quit, why haven’t you?”

3) While man behind, Howie helps a guy who was having indigestion and a panic attack at the same time. When the rest get back, Howie tries to bond with them over the call, but is ignored. They are talking about takeout options and Gerrard asks Tommy, when his girlfriend is supposed to come in and cook. Tommy sounds extremely contained during this interaction, gives a a day, and when pressed he stammers and promises. The conversation fades off so we don’t hear what he promises, but he didn’t seem all that enthusiastic about his girlfriend coming in.

- Now this is where we really start getting into my hcs. Either Tommy is bi (which we’ll hopefully find out tomorrow) or he’s closeted. The tightness in his voice (which is all we have to go on because the camera is focused on the POV character), tells me that he’s extremely uncomfortable with the interaction. He’s been put on the spot, and he doesn’t like it. I think the girlfriend is either a) a friend he’s brought by the house once and everyone inferred or b) someone he manufactured in order to get out of team events ie, “Oh I can’t go out tonight, my girl is cooking.” He is uncomfortable with what his boss (a confirmed bigot) is asking for, and the man is pressuring him to produce his beard. If she was actually his girlfriend and Tommy is also bisexual, it could just be that’s he’s uncomfortable exposing her to the environment that the 118 is at that point.

4) Howie starts to try and broach the barriers between himself and the other firefighters, only to be rebuked. At one point he corners Tommy in the locker room, and starts naming off all these topics, stating, “Tell me what your thing is and I’ll make it mine.” Talking about his formidable people skills and asking if that means Tommy just didn’t like him that much.

Tommy tells him, “If I thought about you at all, I probably wouldn’t.” Which tells me that Tommy has already built his mask, his persona, and since the others don’t try to look beyond the surface he’s able to maintain it, but he can’t afford to let anyone in. He can’t think about the new guy on the squad, he’s too busy making sure Gerrard doesn’t find out about his closet. That would be just another person to have to hide from anyway.

This is when Howie gets pulled for the ambulance. Eli tells him that it’s not personal, because friends die and funerals are held. Which makes me also think that Howie stepped into the shoes of a firefighter who died. Maybe one who Tommy was particularly close to? Eli goes on to call Howie a puppy who doesn’t get a name until they know it’s gonna come through.

The next thing that happens is Kevin Lee’s death. Which is incredibly sad and is a big part of how Howie develops as a firefighter, but this meta is Tommy focused so moving on.

5) The garage collapse at the mall, and Tommy almost dies. More to it, Howie saved him. So Tommy decides to share some things with Howie. “Love Actually, monster trucks, and craft beer”. Maybe not a coming out story, but he did declare that one of his favorite movies is a rom com. It’s a start.

Hen Begins

1) Tommy is first seen when Hen walks into the house. He’s comes up to the railing after Gerrard calls for everyone and is positioned between the captain and DeLuca. Now it’s my personal opinion that DeLuca is an ass and that’s backed up by these episodes but even Hen defends him in Bobby Begins Again, and that started with this episode. But again, we’re not here to get into Sal DeLuca’s headspace, this is about Tommy. When Gerrard calls Hen an “diversity” hire, we see Tommy looking very uncomfortable, and Sal is the one to take up some of Captain’s dirty work for him (“For real?”). This is the episode where I truly see Tommy as “falling in line” with the captain. He’s opened up a little to Howie (no nickname yet), a little more inclined to joke, but still is holding these boundaries.

2) DeLuca talks about taking his girl to see some vampire movie and Tommy immediately knows it’s Twilight. DeLuca talks about how he likes Kristen Stewart (with Hen agreeing) before saying something about getting behind that, which makes Hen uncomfortable. (According to this, it would put it in 2008, which means she’s a paramedic for ten years prior to Buck joining which I hate. All those movies came out rather fast but could all be classified as “Twilight” so it was probably at least Eclipse in 2010 especially with the references made…. But then we start to go into how much I hate this timeline because nothing makes sense ever) Tommy talks about how he doesn’t understand the attraction to KS because she’s too… (Sal puts in hot here) broody, and Sal asks him if that means he’s Team Jacob (which is what makes me think it’s at least during Eclipse, I don’t see DeLuca being a Twi-Hard, and so his frame of reference would be movie based), and when Tommy acts confused (not sure if an act or not, he knew what Twilight was, but that doesn’t mean he knows about Team Edward vs Team Jacob), Chimney confirms that he’s implying that Tommy is gay. You. See. Him. Freeze. There is a few seconds where Tommy freezes in place like he’s processing before he makes a joke, blowing a kiss at Sal before laughing. Gerrard puts a stop to the conversation, and Hen takes a seat.

— Remember when Tommy has buried himself in the closet? What happened when someone rattles the door with a gay joke? One where it’s being implied that you are gay? When you’re bigot of a boss is sitting not five feet from you at the same table? You freeze to not immediately deny the accusation in a way that would make you look sus, and then you make a joke out of it. It hurts, so much.

———-Ah shit I’m going to timeline this———

From what we know, Tommy was in the army as a pilot. For Timeline purposes we’re going to assume that Eli leaving is the reason Hen went to the 118. During her med student arc it talks about how she was a paramedic for 10 years, so 2012 makes sense there. It doesn’t make sense with other thing’s because in Lonestar’s Hold the Line (2021 would make this make sense), Hen tells Owen that Denny is 10 and she and Karen and her were married for 8 years, (Same sex marriage has only been legal in CA since 2013). Bobby was their captain for a year in Worst Day Ever, they had a captain parade for two years (six captains) and before that they had a someone who was cleaning up after Gerrard. Also Hen and Karen were freshly back together when DADT was repealed. That makes Denny a baby on September 20th of 2011.

Enlistment periods are 8 years but that’s a mix of active and inactive duty. If Tommy signed up out of high school (18), was an active duty pilot for 6 years (24) and then moved to the reserves for the remaining two while he became a firefighter, it means he could have been a firefighter for two years longer than Hen or Chimney while being less than 10 years older than Buck.

Now none of this helps in placing where these episodes fall in the timeline, but I would say that Bobby’s first day falls about a year before the pilot, and Chimney Begins and Hen Begins butt right up together. Also I have no more information on Eli and how long he stayed after training Chim, and I probably never will because I cannot watch Boston.

More timeline BS. Hen and Karen had to have gotten together during the captain parade because Gerrard would not have let her on a call where she got hurt enough that Chim would make the call to Karen.

——————— Timeline bs over ——————

3) Tommy asks about how “New York bitchiness” could be a compliment after Howie mentioning that she has an East coast vibe, and Hen thanks him for the compliment. And then Howie makes it seem like Tommy’s calling her bitchy, but I don’t see it that way. What’s more likely is that’s the only vibe he knows from the east coast, so when Howie suggests she has it, he’s like, wait you think that’s a compliment? Howie treats it like Tommy’s calling Hen a bitch, but it honestly didn’t come off that way, more like Tommy trying to clarify that Howie wasn’t calling Hen a bitch by saying she has an “East Coast Vibe”. Anyway this conversation quickly devolves in Gerrard being a misogynist, and Tommy and DeLuca quickly scamper off.

4) Not Tommy related, but we do have someone with insight into being an openly gay firefighter now. Casey with the 115. He says that they knew he was gay from the moment he walked in, and it didn’t matter that he was the strongest guy in the firehouse. Here we have proof that it doesn’t matter your qualifications, if you’re perceived as gay, you’re automatically singled out. He said it was so hard that he was told to quit and find a new dream by his partner. Now, there is a red flag about your SO tellingly you to give up your dreams, but can you imagine how bad it would have been for the boyfriend to get to that point? The person you care about coming home every night defeated and downtrodden over something that’s supposed to be his dream? The ease in which Casey shed the boyfriend makes me think that they weren’t together long enough to earn those privileges, but the job also gets a red flag for being so bad that you’d advise your short term boyfriend to quit.

5) Hen’s speech. During this we don’t see him often, because he’s off to the side. The camera is more focused on Gerrard, DeLuca and Howie for the most part. But he does seem very closed off, when you do see him, his arms crossed, not standing defensively or challengingly like DeLuca, but like he’s trying to shrink. Actually it kind of reminds me of another queer firefighter that we all know.

6) We don’t get to see much more of the reactions because we go immediately into a call where a party limo crashed into a flower truck. Which we only know about because Hen went looking for it, saving the life of a little boy. Tommy tells her good job, that they would have discovered the secondary wreck eventually but that it would have been too late. She also has now earned Sal’s respect.

7) When they get back the Chief is there. Now remember, she gave her speech, they went out, they come back out and Gerrard is being removed. Nothing that happened on that call or involving her speech has anything to do with this. She thinks she’s being fired, that Gerrard called while heading to or back from the scene to have her removed, but that’s not the case. Her speech wasn’t actually necessary because everyone was already complaining about how Gerrard treated her. They even talk about someone who compared Gerrard and his behavior to hemorrhoids. Which I’m not saying could be from the army pilot who was probably deployed and had to undergo long-term constipation or diarrhea, but it could be.

Now all in all, there nothing really bad about Tommy’s behavior that we’ve seen. He doesn’t approach Hen, but we’ve seen from her interactions with Howie that she barely accepts his overtures of friendship in the beginning, and Tommy is much more closed off, remembering how he only opened up to Howie after he saved his life. He also doesn’t stand up for Hen to the captain’s face, but as an Army guy, he follows the chain of command. Doesn’t mean he won’t file one or two or three complaints through the proper channels. He just can’t afford to put himself in Gerrard’s crosshairs, can’t afford to undergo his scrutiny.

Bobby Begins Again

1) Hen has started a betting pool on the newest captain. Over under is 6 weeks, making me think that that’s the least amount of time a Captain stayed (about a month and a half and if they had 6 captains in 2 years that’s an average of 4 months). Tommy gives Nash a month and has to run to the ATM. DeLuca is obviously the main antagonizer, it sounds like he wanted the 118 and was denied (Also ABC, maybe bring him back ala Billy Tyson? Might be fun.).

2) Tommy has never worked on a farm, or dealt with toddlers. Cause he was floundering and falling all over himself when trying to catch Maurice the rooster. All in all these calls don’t show much. Tommy follows Bobby’s instructions, even though part of time he’s just parroting what Sal says, no arguments. Adds further credibility to the fact that he follows chain of command. It doesn’t matter that this guys only going to last a month, he’s my captain now.

3) During the Guillermo’s fire, Sal breaks rank to save the kid (which considering who that kid grows up to be, it sucks that he was successful). But when Bobby takes him to task for endangering them all, Sal doubles down. I thought I was paying attention during this scene, but it’s hard with the yelling. At least two people try to get him to cool it, one of them being Chimney who calls DeLuca “Fredo”.

4) They’re all at the bar, talking about Sal getting fired when Bobby shows up and the vibes change. Now sometime over the past twoish years Tommy is single, and it seems chronically at least to the house. Maybe because Gerrard is gone he doesn’t have to maintain a beard anymore, but with the endless captain parade and DeLuca being a tool, he doesn’t feel comfortable coming out? I think he’s also classified the 118 as unsafe, so maybe this lended a reason for his later transfer. But as he says, “Single is easier. Having the scars impresses women, getting ‘em freaks ‘em out.” Which gives heavy implications that like Buck in season one, Tommy isn’t dating but hooking up. If he’s gay, then his partners would have to be okay with the fact that he’s still closeted. And mention of women aside, it’s implied that a longer term relationship ended because he got hurt on the job. (This is why I don’t ascribe to the Tommy dated Abby theory. She implied that her relationship ended because of Patricia, and Tommy implies his last was due to injury. Which could be. He got hurt on the job and she couldn’t handle care giver burden for both of them? But that’s also turning Abby into Shannon Diaz pt 1 and while I dislike both women, they don’t need to be same character different font.) Here’s what I think. He got hurt on the job, and his long term boyfriend couldn’t even go to the hospital to check on him because he wasn’t out to his crew, causing them to break up.

Also for all you Buck/Tommy writers, Tommy canonically has a scar on his right side from a piece of shrapnel that he caught. He says it’s from a factory explosion. I don’t have the ability to get screen shots atm, but it’s pretty.

5) Tommy quotes Fight Club with Chim. So maybe another victim of the Han School of Movie References?

6) Bobby starts with family dinners. Tommy decides to transfer. The cake says, “The 217’s lose is our gain,” and they push his head into it.

The very next scene is Buck walking into the 118.

So all in all, we see Tommy as a deeply guarded character. He doesn’t open up easily, he follows orders, he has a soft side. I don’t really know how to conclude this because I sprinkled my impressions throughout, but I hope that this helps anyone who’s looking for Tommy characterization, and we’ll see tomorrow if any of this is right.

#tv: 911 #911 on abc #911 abc #911 spoilers #911 speculation #tommy kinard #faerly meta

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capitalisticveins · 9 months

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Gavin and Guy (separate) HCs!

Reward for @free-boundsoul winning. These are my first headcanons back (this is a lie I have Solaire clan hcs i just dont know when I wanna post them) after a while of not writing so I hope these are up to standards, enjoy!

Guy once BEGGED Honey to buy tickets to see Wicked. Their job pays better than his (like infinitely better) so he couldn’t afford them. After like a week or two they caved and bought a single ticket for him.

He complained about it saying he wanted his “honey bunny booboo bear” with him and after another week of whining they caved again and bought another.

Gavin can’t stand citrus fruit but makes sure to buy some whenever he goes grocery shopping because Freelancer likes them

Gavin prefers games that are either straightforward or rocky with the meaning being unclear, no inbetween at all.

Gavin can pole dance and unlike Damien it is for sexual intentions. Only reason Freelancer doesn’t know is because they don’t own a pole.

Guy has met every character in the cast with the only exception being Caelum, Scorpius, Cicirnus, and Quinn

Yes, even Brachium. He died for like a solid 5 minutes once.

Gavin was egotistical as FUCK when he first coalesced. He thought he was just automatically better than everyone else and that’s why his relationship with Ophiuchus is non-existent

Guy has a fanclub he doesn’t know about, and Honey is the vice president of it

Guy, Geordi, and Ollie are all online friends. Guy and Geordi do know each other irl but they haven’t met Ollie

Gavin used to be teased for his long name, it’s part of the reason his name is so short now

Guy and Gavin are THE most flexible characters in the cast no I will not take any criticism at this time

Contrary to popular belief, Guy isn’t a big fan of pizza. On the rare occasion he does eat pizza though it’s New York Style

Gavin spent at least 5 hours on the internet looking for the perfect name for him when he decided to change it.

One of the many reasons Gavin doesn’t like Ophiuchus is because they keep calling him “Vindemiator” despite him saying he goes by “Gavin” now.

Guy owns a Miku binder ironically

Guy used to have those little fuzzy mohawks as a kid until he decided to get a buzz cut when he was 13 and grew it out ever since

Guy had his first tooth kicked out in a McDonalds play place

Gavin is actually pretty good at “Golf With Your Friends” after Freelancer finally got him to sit down and pay attention.

Gavin owns THREE mermaid dresses

Guy can play the drums…he just feels like a drum guy

Guy is like…..wayyyyy too interested in the Hunting Adeline and Haunting Adeline. He doesn’t LIKE the books but he just…can’t put them down.

Neither can Honey

Gavin unironically listens to CupcakKe

Due to….habits… and him being a demon, Gavin can fit 50 marshmallows in his mouth. He doesn’t know this but Huxley would be the reason he found this out

His name was supposed to be a joke his mom made but Guy’s dad misinterpreted her intentions and told the doctor they wanted Guy to be named “Guy” with no further questions. Guy is putting him in the nursing home for this.

He was bullied relentlessly* for this in elementary and middle school

Gavin scams kids on roblox for fun

Guy was one of these “kids” (This happened last week he completely trusted Gavin because Gavin said “trust me”)

Both Gavin and Guy like to think they can win a staring contest by closing their eyes and not opening them because “technically it’s not blinking”

Freelancer likes to let Gavin thinks he won but Honey just slaps the shit out of Guy and says “YOU HAVE TO FUCKING STARE”

*by “bullied relentlessly” he means “being asked why he was named Guy every week" with no malicious intent whatsoever

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted gavin #redacted freelancer #redacted guy #redacted honey

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natslildove · 1 year

Text

gif not mine

Bring you back

natasha romanoff x reader

summary: since vormir, you haven’t been in touch with any avenger, you went missing. no one knew where you were or if you were even still alive. until one day, you hear a knock on the door and a familiar face awakes something inside of you, you thought was long gone. hope.

warnings: swearing, panic attack

authors note: sorry it took me like 2 weeks.. i kind of forgot what the story was supposed to be lol. anyways !!!! hope you enjoy it ! <3

you can find the previous chapter here.

11:07 AM

You’ve been in the compound for less than an hour and you’re at Tony and Bruce’s lab, being overwhelmed with theories of how and why they think they can bring Natasha back.

But the thing is, they only have about 2 days. To be precise, 56 hours. Natasha died at 7:13 PM. That’s why is always so hard to sleep when every night around that time, your mind goes back to Vormir.

“We think that, if we find a way to get to Vormir in time, we might have a chance to stop her”, Tony said.

“Stop her? Won’t that reverse the whole ‘saving the world’ thing?”, you say while looking at the place. It’s a mess. Natasha would’ve hated.

“No, you see, time doesn’t work that way. We can’t go back in time and undo something. It would just create a different timeline, but not change ours. If we go back in time and kill Thanos, everything he’s done will still be done but, the second we kill him, another string of time would be created.”

“Says who?”

“Someone who knows about this stuff, trust me”, Bruce tries to convince you without revealing his source. You look at Tony who just makes a gesture suggesting you to ignore this part.

“So you’re saying that, basically, all we have to do is… Go to Vormir?”

“At the right time, yes”, Stark seems hopeful.

“And why don’t you just get a quinjet or something and go?”

“Because, and that’s the problem, Vormir is about 15.000 light years… We can’t get there.”

You knew it. All of this was just bullshit and suddenly you hated yourself even more for believing there might actually be a way of bringing her back. You try processing what Bruce just said and it’s like the whole universe is laughing at you for being so stupid. How could you. You were fine. Or at least you tried to believe you were. She’s dead. She is dead. Natasha is dead. Your girlfriend is dead. Girlfriend. God, you couldn’t even propose to her, the ring long forgotten somewhere in the locked room. This is all so stupid. You’re so stupid and your girlfriend is dead and you never even get to call her your fiancé or wife or nothing. Nothing. She was nothing now. You’re not even a widow, you’re just nothing. You’re no one and you have no one. You’re alone. It should’ve been you. Not her. She was perfect, she deserved to live. She deserved to win. She should be here.

“Woah, hey! Y/N! Hey, what happened?” Tony is holding your face between his hands and you just now realize you were crying. Bawling. You heart was beating so fast you felt like throwing up.

Fucking panic attacks.

You couldn’t speak, your eyes going back and forth but never really looking at the man in front of you. You shake your head and dries your tears with the back of your hands with a certain strength. You whole face is red and Tony and Bruce are giving you pitiful looks.

God, you hated this. So much.

“I’m fine, it’s fine” you take a deep breath, “Just keep going… How- Is there a way to get there or not?”

“Are you sure you’re okay? We can-“

“I’m fine!”, you cut Bruce, “I’m fine, okay? Just answer me”

“Uhm, there might be a way”

“Stop with this might this might that. Just fucking say it already”

“You know Carol? Captain Marvel, Space chick, blonde and tall?”

“I know of her”

“She got her powers from the Tesseract”, Tony continues, “And now, she can fly trough galaxies like, super fast!“

“So we need her?”

“Not exactly”, this time, Bruce says, “Carol is really, really far away, not even with all her powers she could get there in time. We can’t even reach her”, the scientist looks at you, “We need the Tesseract”

“To create a machine?”

“To hit someone with it”, Tony says while cleaning his throat. You barely even listened.

“What? Are you- Are you serious?”

“It could work”

“It could kill someone! This Carol chick only survived because she was half Kratos or something!”

“Kree, and yeah, maybe, but”, the sortear guy keeps trying to convince you, “It worked! All we need is someone willing to do it. Without risk tests and all the regular procedures we are legally required to do”

Oh. A lab rat. They needed a lab rat dumb enough to sacrifice their life’s for a maybe.

Maybe the person will die. Maybe the whole compound would explode. Maybe it wouldn’t even do nothing.

Maybe they’d get Natasha back.

“I’ll do it”

“Yeah, we know Romeo”, Tony smiles. Bruce walks fast to a closet, opening and grabbing a suit.

“We made from your old measures but…”, Banner looks at you up and down and you feel embarrassed and exposed, “We might need to tighten a little bit”

Ouch, what a way to call you malnourished.

12:33 - 55 hours and 20 minutes until Vormir

Bruce was still measuring you in the lab and it was quiet. You knew he had questions but you were grateful he didn’t asked them.

Yelena enters the place holding a bag os chips and a bottle of water. She doesn’t say anything just gives it to you.

“Eat. And drink it”

“I’m not really hungry”

“I literally did not asked anything”, she opens the bag while still in your hands and grabs some chips, “Natasha will hate to see you like this”, she smiles, “I can picture her complaining about your habits”’ now she laughs, “I mean, when she sees your house she will freak out! You killed all her plants! The place is a mess”

“You’ve only seen the outside”

“Sure”

“What do you mean, ‘sure’?”

“I mean…”, she steals more chips, “Sure”

You get this weird feeling that she’s been visiting you without you realizing it. It says a lot about you.

When Yelena stops rambling about her sister, that’s when you realize you’ve eaten some chips. Basically the whole bag, per se.

“You talk as if you’re sure this will work”, now you’re drinking the water. Yelena is smiling not only because of the conversation.

“Someone has to, right?”

Yeah. Someone has to.

1049 words.

taglist: @fxckmiup @janashstorm @smromanoff @natsxwife @makkaroni221 @marvelogic @thelonewriter247 @lizzeolsenismommy @g-athenaathens ( tumblr just won’t let me tag u idk why i’m sorry :(( )

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff smut #black widow

417 notes · View notes

tieronecrush · 1 year

Note

I have a request but it’s also infideltiy so I understand if you ignore this lol.

I’ve been thinking lately about a scenario where reader and Joel have been separated since the outbreak for a few years, reader starts dating some guy in the QZ she’s at, joel shows up and they reunite. Joel really tries to stay away and respect her relationship but they’re both too emotional and horny to resist. I really do love passionate reuinion sex tho!!!!

thank you so much for your request lovely nonnie! i switched it up just a lil bit to make the reader the one who shows up with her bf to boston where joel already is - hope that’s okay!!

muscle memory

joel miller x f!reader

rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

word count: 6.5k

summary: when you flee the baltimore QZ to head to boston with your boyfriend and others, the last person you expect to see is joel miller. you had mourned him for years, having thought your last partner was lost to you forever. when the two of you start smuggling together, more time around each other only seems to strengthen your connection - to the point where neither of you can manage the tension anymore.

warnings: NO USE OF Y/N, no age specified, use of pet names (‘bonny’, ‘little lamb’, ‘sugar’), infidelity, previous relationship, mentions of death/loss, some angsty angst, alcohol use, mentions of drug use, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, cockwarming, dirty talk, praise, mild breeding kink, possessive!joel, soft!dom joel

Boston is an upgrade from Baltimore. At least in the state you left it; the Baltimore QZ had finally succumbed to Firefly occupation and FEDRA was forced out. Not that it really mattered to you, but it was another reason to add to the list. The biggest reason for your caravan up north was that your smuggling lines and connections had dried up. Like, completely. Either people found better deals or died on their journeys outside of the walls of whatever QZ they were from. You mostly dealt with Washington and Philly, both having been radio silent for weeks by the time your smuggling group made the decision to move on. You were welcoming the change; sure, the means to get there was full of uncertainty and danger, but the group you were with and your boyfriend of a few months, Danny, made you feel the slightest bit more confident trekking through the decimated country.

It’s been a few weeks since you all officially transitioned into the Boston QZ, registered under FEDRA, and having gone through your quarantine. You all settled into your government-assigned homes, you living with Danny and others grouping up to attempt to make these shabby walls feel like home.

It was easy to be with Danny. You two had known each other for years, done tons of runs together, and developed a comfortable friendship. Your relationship was born out of convenience -- after hooking up one night when you both needed to be taken care of, you stayed together. It was nice to have companionship, but it certainly wasn’t love.

You haven’t felt that way since Joel.

Joel Miller. Your partner when the world went to shit.

The two of you were together for a couple of years, and you were planning to move in with him at the start of the new year - 2004. It was supposed to be your year. Moving in with the love of your life and his daughter that you loved as if she were your own, probably getting engaged or just eloping with him, maybe even talking about growing your little family.

You loved your life before. You mourned it for years after the outbreak happened, knowing you likely wouldn’t see any part of it again.

When Outbreak Day happened, you weren’t with Joel. You weren’t even in Austin. It was the week of your mom’s 60th birthday, and she had begged you to come up north for a visit. You were supposed to fly home on September 26th. You were supposed to surprise Joel for his own birthday.

And then your flight got canceled. Rebooked for the following day.

And everything changed.

But that was years ago, now it’s 2010. Family members were long gone, friends made along the way lost, too. You grieved as well as you could with the way the world moved now. Despite searching for any sign of Joel, or Sarah, or even his brother Tommy, you accepted your fate to be alone and settled in Baltimore.

And now, you were accepting the fate that your new home would be Boston. Seemed like a decent replacement in your mind, and hearing about the smuggling business here made you eager to get involved.

The small group that you traveled with had arranged a meeting with two of the more prolific runners in the city. You weren’t given any details besides a meeting place and time, so when that night came, you and Danny made your way into the dilapidated storage building along with your friends from Baltimore.

You glanced around at the place, attention turning to the small huffs of frustration coming from your boyfriend next to you. He was fiddling with the zipper on his jacket, the grooves stuck in the fabric. Nimble fingers worked it loose as you stood amongst everyone, Danny’s lips pressing to your hairline in a sweet thanks.

There is no way in whatever is holy, if there even is anything out there, that Joel is seeing who he thinks he’s seeing. They must be a figment of his imagination. It’s been seven years.

And then he hears that laugh. This stranger has a laugh that he would recognize anywhere.

That’s your laugh. That smile is yours, too. And when you turn towards him finally, his gaze fixed on you since you entered the room, he meets your eyes. Those eyes that made his heart sing whenever they shined with joy, made him shatter when they were filled with tears, made him completely head over heels for you.

And right now, they were making it all come rushing back. The heartbreak, the loss, the grief, the love.

A small gasp escapes your mouth when you recognize him. He was aging, that much he knew. Had some grays sprinkled into his brown hair, his beard was just as patchy as it had been before. He had harsher lines on his face, the world wearing him down much quicker than it would if the outbreak never happened — if he never knew what loss was like.

You’re taking inventory of all of his changes, and he notices similar ones in you. Your hair is longer, even pulled back he can tell it’s inches past where you normally would keep it. There’s the faintest wrinkles next to your eyes, soft smile lines near your lips. Signs that you stayed light in the world of darkness. That made the pain in his chest lessen just the smallest amount.

He keeps checking that you’re still there during the entire meeting. Tess does the talking, some grumbles of rules coming from him, but he’s thankful that she’s taken the lead ‘cause he doesn’t know if he could get more than a handful of words out at a time. With arms crossed over his chest, he pinches his bicep as he glances at you again, assuring himself that he isn’t dreaming or having a bad trip from those pills he takes.

The rest of the meeting goes by quickly, plans are made for the next few runs to integrate the newest additions. He stays back, hoping that you would do the same. There was no way that he wasn’t going to talk to you; he’d run after you if you left.

Luckily for him, you had understood the subliminal messages in the short bits of eye contact he made with you.

The guy that was with you stayed, too, but he stood near the exit while you stepped closer to Joel.

With you right in front of him, he gave himself another quick pinch before clearing his throat. Just when he was about to break the growing awkward tension in the stale air, he heard your voice crack.

“Hi.”

That’s all you say, and suddenly he can’t help the grin that quips up to the side. A hushed chuckle exhales through his mouth shortly, eyes locking with yours.

“Hey there, bonny.”

He watches your shoulders drop from their frigid position, uneasiness visibly relaxing after the greeting. He grins wider, dimple deepening in his cheek as his chest tightens from the gentle reaction he’s gotten out of you.

He still had the tiniest bit of his accent. Especially when he said that nickname. Short for bluebonnet, Texas’s wildflower, which is where the name originated from. Joel called you his wildflower, and when you asked him what kind of flower one night, he told you he only knew bluebonnets. Typical proud Texan man. Eventually, the moniker turned into ‘bonny’.

It’s a nickname you hadn’t heard since your last phone call with him, disappointment evident in his voice when you had to confess that your planned surprise wasn’t going to happen and that you would be home the next day to celebrate with him belatedly.

“‘S alright, bonny. Sarah’s already got something planned for the two of us. Promised her I’d pick up a cake on the way home from the site.”

Your stomach had toiled with anxiety that day from his sadness that you were going to be missing from his birthday and that he was just missing you. This time around, hearing that same nickname roused your nerves from the thrill that it zipped down your spine, the sound of his voice around the words tingling in your ears.

The two of you make introductions to your respective tag-alongs, Joel to Danny and you to Tess. Greetings were passed and conversation flowed, the two of you skating around your history with company present, only divulging necessary details. You two dated before. That was it. They didn’t need to know how long, how serious, how you mourned the loss of him and the life you two built together.

Ignoring the past in conversation was easy. Ignoring the physical pull you felt towards him was more of a challenge. Heat crawls up your back and settles on the nape of your neck, tongue poking out to wet your lips every few moments. Fingertips itch to touch his skin, to trace the lines on his palms, and to brush over the scar on the right side of his face. One he didn’t have with you, and you wanted to know what it was from.

You wanted to know a lot from him. What these last seven years looked like for him. Once the conversation died down naturally, you faced Joel and asked him gently the first of the two most pressing questions you wanted answered.

“Where’s Tommy? Guessin’ the two of you are still glued to each other like you were back then,” you tack on a light laugh to your query, feeling the rush of panic as you realize that these answers you were wanting might not be answers that you want to hear. A lump forms in your throat as you wait for his response, a tender look on your face.

“He’s, uh, he’s here still. Doesn’t run with us though, he’s been getting into shit with the Fireflies here. Drives me insane, but you know how he is.”

“Always a joiner,” the words roll off your tongue and you bite down on it, cursing yourself internally for making fun of his brother without really knowing how this Joel would respond.

Relief washes over you when he laughs, not a full one, but nevertheless, you got to see a sliver more of that smile that had you smitten.

“Got that right. Tommy always wants to be a hero,” he shakes his head back and forth, an adoring smirk on his face as his stare lengthens and his mind is taken to his younger brother for a moment.

With the news of Tommy, you were even more eager to ask your second question. It gripped your heart, tugging it nearly out of your chest. Your voice softened as you spoke to him, eyes involuntarily watering in anticipation.

“And Sarah?”

Silence. As if the words catch in his throat and start to choke him from the inside. His eyes widen in loss of oxygen, chest still as he holds his breath. He can’t look away from you, eyes quickly pacing to hold contact with yours. They communicate desperation, as if he wants so badly to explain, to tell you what happened to his daughter that you loved, but he can’t get the words out of his airway.

It tells you everything, that look. You hadn’t lost your ability to read Joel, and the realization completely demolishes the composure you were attempting to maintain. Closing the gap between you, you focus on Joel as you wrap your arms around his waist, tight and full of compassion. Your head rests on his chest, facing to the side. Everything else in the room falls away, muscle memory moving your hands in circles against his lower back in the way you remember he loved. He’s tense in your arms, his own wrapping around your shoulders hesitantly until he feels the comforting touch. Tautness breaks from him, resting more of his weight against you as his head dips down to rest his chin on you and his eyes close.

Yours close too, and just for that moment, you’re back in his kitchen, sticky summer morning air coating the room from the open screen door. Cartoons squeak from the TV in the other room, and the smell of Joel’s French toast wafts from it’s crisping on the stove.

Domestic bliss. What could’ve been.

That hug has tormented Joel for weeks. The first time he saw you, the first time he heard your voice, the first time he held you after he thought he never would again. And that one time has unearthed a hunger for more. A need for you. Doesn’t matter if he’s around you or not, he can’t stop thinking about you.

When you’re on runs with him, he has one eye on you at all times. When it’s a route without your boyfriend, he feels a bit bolder; touches linger on your back as he guides you through obstacles or around your arms as he holds you back to get ahead of you to clear a room.

He’s been trying, so desperately trying, to respect your relationship. Not that you mention him much, but you and Danny arrived in Boston, shacked up together, and have made no hints at that changing. For now.

It’s gotten to the point where it’s driven him to drink, added to the long list of things he needs to be inebriated or high to cope with.

This is how he ended up at the QZ speakeasy, a few blocks from his building which makes it an easy past-curfew destination. Sole occupant of the low, barrel table against the back wall, he pounds a whiskey back which quickly turns into three. A buzz has started in his body and his mind, a clear path to his ideal destination on the horizon. It was a shitty run today, mostly coming up dry and having to deny some trades. Plus, you weren’t with him.

When he’s waving the bartender for another glass, his eyes skate across the room and catch you standing at the top landing of the stairs that snake down to the warehouse basement bar, eagerness evident in your expression when you find him. Overprotective, he watches you bound down the stairs to make sure you get to whoever you’re meeting without any issues. He’d be more than happy to step in if someone got too close.

Focused on his self-appointed task, he doesn’t realize that you’re making your way over to him excitedly until you’re standing in front of his table, gesturing to the empty seat across from him that he offers to you.

Plopping down in the wooden chair, a goofy smile stretches across your face as the giddiness of being around him flickers in your stomach. You’d felt this jolt of energy being near him, thinking about him. It’d been like that for weeks since you saw him again and held him. It was a spark, and now your embers were slowly catching fire the more time you spent with Joel.

Greetings were exchanged, and him buying you a drink along with another for himself. Finger tracing around the lip of your glass, you glance up at him and attempt to make small talk if only to be able to hear his voice.

“So, how was the run today?”

“‘S fine. Pretty dry.” His response is clipped, mumbled out as he brings his drink up to his lips for a swig.

“Oh, really? That’s a shame. You got another one planned?” you keep your eyes on him, watching as he looks anywhere but at you. Around the table, across the room, even at his own boot.

“Yeah, got one next week.” Joel’s grumbling, deep crease between his brows as he sulks in his chair.

“Maybe I can join you on that one?” you propose, hoping that it gets his attention. Sure, you could be reading into it, but something told you that he enjoyed having you around as much as you enjoyed being around him. Brows raised in hopefully curiosity, anticipation swells your tongue in your mouth.

“Maybe.”

That’s it? That’s all he has to say?

Joel’s always been a man of few words, always crafting careful and thoughtful responses when you were together. But this? This is ridiculous. He clearly doesn’t want you around, his eyes darting as if to look for the fastest escape route. It stings, deflating your excitement. The chance of this encounter was the sole reason you went out tonight. Danny had fucked off to play poker or gamble away ration cards with some other guys he’d gotten buddy-buddy with, and it didn’t help that you two had been drifting further from each other over the last week. You weren’t sure how much longer this companionship would be worth it, and with Joel always around, it certainly was starting to blur some lines. He always made you feel better, even when he wasn’t trying. Except for tonight.

Your hurt boils into anger, and you scoff at him, arms crossing firmly in front of your chest.

“You keep acting like you’re looking for a chance to leave. If I’m keeping you here, feel free to go. I’ll drink by myself.”

Joel looks at you, his eyes softening. He opens his mouth, then shuts it, thinking about what he should say. You get annoyed by his lack of response, grabbing your drink off the table and slipping out of your chair to leave him there.

“Are you really that oblivious, bonny?”

You turn back, anger growing at the thought that he’s mocking you.

“Well, screw me for trying to make conversation with you, Joel. I guess I am oblivious ‘cause I thought we could be friends or, I don’t know, at least civil after all this time.”

“Bonny, I can’t be friends with you.”

He’s kicking you when you're down, clearly just being cruel.

“Why? What did I do?”

“I can’t be friends with you, ‘cause I want more than that.”

The honesty stuns you. Sure, you had felt that pull towards Joel again, but you didn’t know that he felt the same way or that he would act on it if he did. He gets up from his chair, taking a step closer to you before he continues.

“I looked for you, y’know? After everything. All I wanted was to have you back. I knew you’d know what I needed. And when I saw you again, I realized why I couldn’t stop looking. What I needed most was you.”

He stands close to you now, warm breaths intermingling with the other’s, humidity heating your cheeks while his eyes stay locked on you. Everything you’ve felt since Joel had been revived into your life suddenly becomes overwhelming; you can’t contain them, can’t compartmentalize them anymore. You reach for him, hand pressed over his heart, feeling the rushed beating pulsing under your touch.

His eyes look down slowly to his chest and then back up to you when you whisper, “Mine feels the same way when I see you.”

“Is that right? Can I feel for myself?”

You nod slowly, peeling your hand off of him only for him to catch it and hold it in his. Your voice is thick, “Maybe somewhere a little more private? Like your place?”

He looks confused for a second, brows knitting together before it dawns on him, pupils widening and darkening his eyes.

“Let’s get out of here, bonny.”

Keys jingle as he twists them in the lock, throwing the thin wooden door open after he pulls them out. He nods for you to step in ahead of him, taking a few paces into the apartment and surveying around. The door clicks behind you and the deadbolt slides into place, the sounds sending goosebumps across your skin at the prospect of being totally alone with Joel, no watchful eyes or possible interruptions.

Eyes continue to skate along the room, tiny details noted. Half-drunk whiskey bottle on the counter, small baggies of pills on the coffee table, other finds from his side occupation littering the space.

His weighted steps drag across the worn wooden floors at your back, the presence of him hanging behind you slowing your breaths in suspense. Saliva coats your mouth at the dryness of your thirst, hair standing off of your skin in waiting.

The first touch you feel is his fingers brushing against the back of your neck, sweeping the hair there off to one side and holding it there. Joel takes one step closer, chest pressing against your shoulder blades and crotch against the swell of your ass. The warmth radiating off of him sends a shiver down your spine, jolting against him briefly. Your breaths pause as you wait for his next move, eyes fluttering closed when his lips touch the nape of your neck in a ghostly kiss. A hand wraps around you, resting just over your breast to feel the rapid beating of your heart, the rhythm matching his own that you feel against your back. A placid gasp puffs from between your lips, snapping the taut tension between the two of you and sending a new urgency to his actions.

Palms encase your hips, spinning you around to face him and tugging you close to feel every curve pushed against him. His lips find yours in a hungry kiss, your own mouth opening in a sigh at the contact. Joel takes this as an opportunity to lick into your mouth, tongue dominating yours and swallowing every whimper that comes out of you.

Your own hands grip his shoulders, nails dragging against the fabric down to his biceps. Fingertips dig into the flexed muscles, steadying yourself as he starts to walk you backward throughout his place. He never leaves your lips, knowing the space with his eyes closed to lead you all the way back through the door to the small bedroom on the left side of the living space.

A whine escapes you when his mouth detaches from yours, working kisses along your jaw to the hollow under your ear, sucking at the space there. A groan rumbles from his chest when you let out a soft moan and hold his arms tighter, hips involuntarily jerking against his growing bulge.

Lust-blown eyes stare into yours as he stands up fully again, delicate touch brushing your cheek before his thumb nudges the scar that sits on your brow. The look in his eyes pains for half a second, and you finally speak up since leaving the speakeasy.

“‘S not a good story. Happened from a lamp falling onto my head when I was raiding around some suburban house. Just an accident. You wouldn’t have been able to stop it from being there.”

His gaze meets yours again, tugged away from the fibrous tissue on your face. The bulb in his throat bobs when he swallows, head moving side to side minutely.

His hand caresses your cheek, voice thick with his drawl when he softly responds, “You underestimate me, bonny.”

The words gloss your vision, quick blinks settling the emotion and clearing the picture of Joel in front of you again. Your heart constricts in your chest, attempting to imagine the amount of pain that he’s been through, but you can’t even begin to know.

Instead of dwelling on the moment, he presses one light, affectionate kiss to your lips before he takes a step back. He grips the hem of your shirt, brows quirking up in a silent question. You nod subtly, the permission allowing him to slowly tug the fabric over your head. He devours the newly exposed skin with his burning stare, compelled to bend down and trace his lips over every new mark he sees while his hands move across your curves to reacquaint himself with your new features. Wider hips, rougher skin, purply stretch marks veining your skin along with ropy paths where injuries had healed over.

Joints crack softly as he settles onto his knees in front of you, sending you into light giggles while he groans and presses his forehead against your lower tummy. He reaches around and playfully smacks your jean-covered ass, a fake scowl on his face when he looks up at you from his praying position.

“‘Nuff gigglin’ at me, you’re gonna feel this sore come morning.”

The threat of his words floods arousal between your thighs, bottom lip toyed between your teeth as you quiet down your laughter. Joel kisses your clothed thigh, fingers popping the button of your jeans and dragging the zipper before they hook in your waistband and tug the denim down your legs. Joel laughs lightly at your silence, eyes finding yours as his hands lift each of your feet one at a time to help you out of your pants.

“Thought that might get you excited, lil’ lamb. I know you’re gonna be such a good girl for me, aren’t ya?”

The wink that follows his drawl jolts your limbs and fingers twist into his locks as his open mouth exhales warm, humid air on your panty-covered mound. He presses his face against the fabric, inhaling deeply and moaning softly at the scent of you.

“Fuck, sugar, it’s still the same. Missed you so much. You think you still taste the same?” He directs the question up to your face, your head lulled down to meet his gaze. A smirk pulls at the corners of your mouth, mischief glittering in your eyes.

“Only one way to find out, baby.”

His amber eyes were pools of ink with how much they darkened, full of carnality. Large fingers smoothly strip you out of your panties, his figure coming to stand at his full height in front of you. Gripping your waist, he guides you back to sit on the edge of the mattress, lifting your legs by your thighs and easily maneuvering you toward the center.

Joel moves to climb onto the bed with you, but your soft sigh of frustration stops him.

“I wanna see you. ‘Specially if I’m completely naked, ‘s only fair that you are, too,” you gripe to him, bottom lip protruding only slightly in a pout. Joel considers for a moment, ultimately deciding that fair’s fair. He pulls his knee off of the mattress and makes quick work of undressing, his own clothes laying rumbled on the floor with yours.

Satisfied with his fulfillment of your request, your eyes completely devour his bare body as he moves to kneel on the mattress between your open legs. Fighting for survival has kept him fit, broad shoulders flexing as he lifts your legs at the crook of your knees to spread them further. His chest is firm, the rest of his torso softer just as it had always been. It was one of your favorite parts of him, the sight of it now taking you back to times cuddling him on the couch or in bed, head in his lap to press kisses against his tummy or resting your head there and being lulled to sleep. Your fingernails comb through the happy trail, pressing into the skin of his lower abdomen as you sit up to kiss him deeply. He moans quietly against your lips, your knees pressing into his stocky thighs, toes curling against the flexed muscles in his calves. Your arms settle around his neck, lips chasing his as he pulls back to look at you.

“I really did miss you, bonny. Couldn’t believe it when you were in front of me again. Still can’t really believe it right now.” His voice is breathy, eyes holding yours, moving back and forth minutely. One of his hands encompasses the left side of your face, the other moving down between your bodies, his frame bent over yours. Two fingers work circles into your clit, inhale catching in your throat while your legs tense from the feeling of his touch on you.

“M-Missed you, too. So much. I looked for you everywhere I went. Needed you again, I need you now.”

“‘M right here, lil’ lamb. Not going anywhere again. I’m gonna make you feel so good, just like I used to.”

His fingers working your clit slip through your wetness, pressing against your entrance to coax a moan out of you. He hooks them into you, pushed against your spongy walls in search for that spot he’d been all too familiar with. Like riding a bike, he fell right back into what you had loved from him before, knowing just how to work you up. His jaw dropped slightly as his eyes glued to where his fingers thrusted into you; he closed his mouth every so often to swallow the saliva flooding his mouth until he couldn’t wait another second to taste you again.

Joel folded over, legs scooting back on the bed to allow his head to sit between your thighs, tongue lapping against your clit feverishly and switching with his lips every so often to suck at the same spot.

The sounds leaving you at that point were wanton and lewd, mixing with the squelch of your wetness. You felt the familiar knot tightening in your stomach until it’s pulled loose, a loud gasp of his name while your nails dig into his shoulder and walls tighten around him.

He keeps his pace, mouth still attached to your core. He’s not going to let up without you saying something, and you can’t take another moment without him giving you what you want — what you need from him. Fingers tangled in his mussed hair, peeling him from between your thighs. He meets your eyes, lips and chin shining with dampness in the low light of the bedroom and fingers pulling out of you. Eyes blown into blackness at the sight of your pleasure, mouth opening to speak when you cut him off.

“More of that later, if you really want it. But I need you. Inside of me.”

Joel smirks devilishly, fingers coated in your come pushing between your lips and into your mouth for you to clean off.

“Just tastes so sweet, bonny. Can’t help but want seconds,” his hard cock twitches where it lays against your thigh at the feeling of your tongue sucking his fingers, “Better ask again nicely, lamb. Or else I’m not giving you anything.”

The smirk stays painted on his face, a huff of frustration as your hips jerk up to chase his hand that hover over you, desperate for more.

“Please, pretty please. I need you,” you beg, pleading in your eyes as you look through your lashes, dull nails scratching his skin.

“That’s my good girl. Kept your manners.” The wink he sends you flutters your walls around nothing, whimpering as he manipulates you into his desired position.

Joel straddles one of your thighs, bringing the other up to lay against his torso and rest on his shoulder. Your hips turn only slightly to the side in the position, opening your pelvis into a kindling heat. He spits in one of his palms, fingers of the same hand running shortly through your arousal and then mixing the fluids to coat the tender skin of his length. The head of him pushes into you deliciously measured, his motion pausing for you to adjust.

It only takes a moment before your body remembers, the muscles of your tight pussy molding around him once again. Your body feels the familiarity of him, the reactions it has are heightened from the comfort of his own body, focusing solely on how perfectly he fits inside of you.

“Damn, sugar, feel like your little pussy got even tighter. Feels so pefect around me, like she knows who’s about to fuck her just right,” his voice is coated with lust, jaw laxing with a guttural groan when he pushes further into you.

When Joel finally starts a rhythm, slow and deep at first, your eyes roll back into your skull as your head presses hard into the mattress under you. The position brings him incredibly deep, and his size fills you nearly to the brim. It was a feeling you hadn’t felt since the last time you’d had him, his veins on his swollen cock carving the same paths along your insides to feel every detail of him.

“Feel so full, baby. Haven’t felt it since I had you last,” your voice is higher and breathier, toned in a whine.

“That’s right, bonny. Nobody makes you feel as good as I do, huh? Probably haven’t had a decent fuck for years, you poor thing.”

All you can do in response is moan, hands gripping his forearms that are the part of his nearest to you.

He fucks you like this for a good moment, moaning your name quietly before he huffs in frustration, completely pulling out of you. Immediately, you mewl at the loss, head shooting up to protest before he’s moving you to his will again.

“Just a second, sugar. Need to be able to kiss you and feel you all over. Being such a good girl for me, I promise you’re gonna love this.”

He still couldn’t be as deep and close to you as he needed to be in the previous position, so he manipulates your jellied limbs easily to be able to fully cover you with his body. His grip is on your knees, bending your one leg that was once between his thighs to move your calf to hook over his shoulder. Once both your legs are settled on his frame, he continues to stretch your hips by leaning over you, pinning your thighs back to your ribs. He’s completely opened your lower half, folding you back to the point where his tummy is resting against yours and his face is hovering over you. Muscles in your legs and hip flexors burn and spasm, but you can’t care for even a moment when Joel thrusts into you again. You’d never been in this position with him before, and your mind instantly clears of any thoughts besides how hard and deep Joel is fucking you, how you had never felt as full and complete as you did in that moment.

He chuckles as he watches you completely cock drunk, one hand leaving your leg. The large palm finds your lower abdomen, pressing against it as he locks his gaze in yours.

“Can you feel me right here, lil’ lamb? Feel me deep, pushing your belly?” His voice is sweetened sickeningly, the pride and amusement of being the one to give you this experience, to make you feel that full once again evident in the twinkle of his eyes and the sideways smirk on his face.

Chants of his name leave your mouth, your voice barely covering the sounds of his skin slapping against yours steadily.

With him inside of you, it was like two puzzle pieces joining together to finish the picture. The satisfaction of completion was there on all fronts, his rhythm frying your nerves and tightening that red hot coil in your core. With his body covering yours in this embrace, he keeps his mouth on you, heady kisses to your lips when you can take it and mouth biting or licking along your chin, jaw, and neck when you need to breathe.

His motions switch up in the next instant, pushed into you at the hilt as his hips circle to grind you on him. He makes tight figure eights, the act getting you to the point where he’s fucked you completely dumb. All you want in that moment is to feel his warm spend inside of you, watch his face contort from his own pleasure. You can tell he’s close the less he speaks and the more he pants, head falling to your shoulder and eyes closing as he focuses hard to keep pace.

“Come inside me, please. I want it,” your tone is urgent, spilling the words out before your orgasm blinds you white-hot, mind clear of everything except for the euphoric high Joel’s given you. Tightening around him, he moans loudly, thrusts becoming messy and stacatto as he chases his own peak.

“God, such a perfect girl for me. You gonna keep my come in you all night? Go back to your boyfriend tomorrow with it dripping out?”

All you can do is nod, cunt fluttering around him as it starts to work into overstimulation, the rub of his skin against your clit so pleasurable it’s getting painful. Your voice falters when a third orgasm pulses through you.

“Y-Yes, yes. I want you inside for as long as it’ll stay there. Pl-Please, baby.”

Your begging pushes Joel over the edge, hips stuttering as ropes of his warm spend fill you up. He starts to work into you again, fucking it deeper before he finishes.

The pair of you are sweaty, sticky messes; hair tangled, lips swollen, eyelids heavy in recovery. Joel stays inside of you, gently moving your legs down and his own arms wrapping under you to lay you on your side with him, lifting one of your legs to rest on his hip.

Soft, supple kisses are shared as the two of you drift in and out of consciousness, eventually falling asleep completely.

Blue tinted sunlight creeps into the sole window of Joel’s bedroom, the night sky fading into a lilac dawn. You’re studying Joel as he sleeps, long lashes grazing his cheeks, lips parted just enough to let some light snores escape. Your finger delicately traces the scar on his right temple, your featherlight touch causing his eyes to flutter open and find your gaze half awake.

Joel’s immediately in fight or flight mode, arm around your waist tightening as he holds you closer.

“You okay? Something happen?” His voice is hoarse from sleep, clearing his throat as the slight panic wakes his up more.

Gently, you rest your hand on his chest and shake your head with a tender smile.

“Everything’s fine, you can relax. I was just lookin’ at you before I have to go home.”

Joel deflates, brow creasing at the mention of you needing to leave, to go home to your equally shitty apartment and some guy that wasn’t him. Jealousy flicked in his chest, a confession sitting in his throat for a minute before he let it out.

“I really did mean it, y’know. I need you. Now that I’ve got you back in my life, I can’t let you go. You’re some of the only family I’ve got left, and I don’t think I could survive losing you again.” His voice is shaky, wet brown eyes locked with yours. You have rarely seen Joel this unguarded, even in your life before, without the hardness that had come with the constant threat to his survival hanging over his head. The words wrapped around your heart, squeezing tightly and ripping it out of your chest to give to him. Silence falls between the two of you as an understanding washes over you, relaxing your body as the memory of safety, comfort, and home ripples throughout every muscle. You tell him what you have felt since the moment you saw him again:

“I’m not going anywhere, Joel. Not without you.”

tagging the mutuals: @swiftispunk @joelsversion @johnwatsn @midnightswithdearkatytspb @pedrit0-pascalit0 @theelishad @undrthelights @ladamedusoif @ruinedbylanadelrey @thetriumphantpanda @pedgeitopascal @dinsdjrn @thepascalofus @pedgito @soaringcloud @somedayauthor @alloftheimagines @pr0ximamidnight @beskarandblasters @atinylittlepain @nicolethered @scrambledslut @lunapascal

#joel #joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x yn #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #me #writing

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phantom-dc · 1 year

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Dad Hood - part 11

Bruce knew something was up. He didn’t need the title of World’s Greatest detective to figure that out. And it had something to with his sons.

‘Tim, why are you in my classified files?’

He had caught Tim looking through his personal files on the Bat-computer. There were strict rules not to go into each other’s personal files, yet Tim had broken that rule. Then again, Bruce was certain Tim did this often, which was the only reason he didn’t get angry.

‘I was just… wondering if your contingency files were still up to date!’

At the time Bruce though Tim had been curious if there was a plan for him. But then the week had continued to become stranger.

‘Dick, what are you doing with our Lazarus Pit? You know I don’t want anyone near it unless necessary.’

Dick had been by the Batcave’s Lazarus Pit, with a ruler of all things! Everyone was forbidden of going near it. If that thing wasn’t so fundamental to have Bruce would have gotten rid of it ages ago.

‘I was just… making sure it wasn’t leaking?’

That had been even stranger. Why would Dick think that Lazarus Water was missing? Both Dick and Tim had been walking on eggshells around him, and Bruce didn’t know why. Part of him wanted to be a good father and let them come to him when they were ready, but the other part needed to make sure that they weren’t in any trouble. Why was being a father so hard? And then dinner had been strange and downright awkward.

‘Yeah, remember when Wally faked his own death and went to that sanctuary? I was so upset! I just missed him sooooo much!’

Dick had brought up his friend. It had been unnatural for the conversation. Bruce was concerned. What was Dick fishing for?

‘Oh yes, I remember. That must’ve been horrible. I remember how I felt when Connor died. I missed him so much, I tried to clone him! It didn’t work, but still! Thank goodness he’s back now’

Bruce was getting more uncomfortable, as were his other kids. He wasn’t sure if Duke, Steph and Cass even knew about that. This sounded scripted, what was this about?

‘Ha-ha yeah! Oh well. Who hasn’t tried that? Raise your hand if you tried to bring a loved one back through cloning!’

Dick was looking at the table. Bruce was confused. Did… Did they think he cloned someone? Why would Bruce do that? They have a Lazarus Pit in the basement, and cloning doesn’t work with memories. It would never work. But that is beside the point. Why did his sons think he cloned someone, and why were they shaken enough to be in a state that they couldn’t even be subtle about it?

‘Guys, can you lighten up a bit? I’d rather not eat and discuss dead friends at the same time.’ Duke was very uncomfortable.

‘Yeah, knock it off. Let’s talk about something else. Damian, didn’t you visit Sgt. Byrd at the zoo today?’ Stephanie tried to switch topics.

As the conversation shifted, Bruce knew he couldn’t just let them come to him anymore. This was a case for Batman.

Tim and Dick were arguing. After dinner they had left to Tim’s room, to discuss things.

‘Really? ‘Raise your hand if you tried to bring a loved one back through cloning’? What was that?’

‘Look, we haven’t found anything else. What was I supposed to do? The week is almost up and we have no clue’s. Zero, nada, nothing! What are we supposed to tell Jason?’

Tim put his face in his hands. This investigation was going nowhere.

‘Ok, arguing isn’t getting us anywhere. We need to work together on this.’

After a week of trying to find more information they had come up empty. Tim had scoured every file in the Bat-computer but there wasn’t a trace of any cloning plans. They had gone over every paper file in the Cave itself, but there wasn’t even an anecdote about it. Dick had gone so far as to measure the Lazarus Pit to see if any water was missing! With how infused with the stuff Danny was, it had seemed reasonable. But there wasn’t anything. There was nothing to be found. But both boys knew that wasn’t the end of it. Bruce could’ve destroyed his work. He could’ve kept it in a different location. Jason would know that too.

‘We need to find out for certain if Bruce cloned him. If we don’t, Jason is going to murder someone, or at least try.’

As both boys left to investigate other Bat-hide outs in Gotham, Damian decided he’d heard enough. Dropping down from the ceiling, he went to his father to report this.

‘…So in short Father, Grayson and Drake believe you might have cloned Jason. Most likely after his death as a coping mechanism.’

Bruce sighed. He had no clue where they would get that idea from. However, he needed to talk to them. But if he knew his sons even a little, he knew that neither Dick nor Tim would believe a word he said until their investigation was over. Which means he had only one son he could reason with, as hard as that was even on a good day.

Leaving to figure out which safehouse he was currently living in, Bruce thought about what he was going to say to Jason.

‘Alright, kiddo. You ready for bed? You had your water? You got everything? Your Blankie and Mr. Bun-Bun?’

Jason tucked Danny into bed. Snuggling further into his blankets, Danny gave him a big smile.

‘Yep! Goodnight daddy!’

Jason turned off the lights and closed the door. Hopefully Danny would be able to sleep through the night. He had been doing better lately, but he still woke up a lot. Jason stretched his muscles a bit. He felt like he was finally getting a handle on this parenting thing. As long as Danny didn’t get any new powers…

‘Jason.’

Bruce was standing in Jason’s living room. Jason instantly felt rage, his eyes going fully green just as fast. This shocked Bruce. What had happened? Did this have anything to do with the cloning theory?

‘What do you want, old man? You have a lot of nerve coming here!’

Jason was feeling strange. This was the first time he’d gotten so mad he almost attacked someone on sight since his dip, and it felt odd. He didn’t want to alert Danny to this, but it took almost everything he had not to snap. But if Bruce didn’t own up to this…

‘Jason, I need to talk to you. Dick and Tim seem to be under the impression that I have cloned-’

‘OH, JUST ADMIT IT, BRUCE! I KNOW EVERYTHING! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?’

Jason broke. Knowing that Bruce had not only known that Jason had a son, but keeping it from him just to try and clone the child was too much. He flung himself at Bruce, and attacked him.

‘AWNSER ME DAMMIT! WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME!’ Jason threw a punch at Bruce, which was blocked. In his rage, Jason was fighting sloppy. Bruce flipped Jason over his head, dropping him onto the couch.

‘Jason, I don’t understand. What are you talking about?’ Bruce was trying to understand. Even if someone had tried to clone Jason, that didn’t explain this anger. He was missing a piece of the puzzle and he needed to figure out what was happening. Did Jason think he wasn’t the original Jason for some reason?

Jason threw a pillow to block Bruce’s vison and got off the couch. Throwing another punch, this one connected and slammed Bruce into the wall.

‘HOW COULD YOU HIDE THIS FROM ME! DO YOU HATE ME THAT MUCH?’

Jason picked Bruce up and pushed him against the wall. Bruce was surprised Jason was able to do that while Bruce was wearing the heavy bat-suit.

‘YOU KNEW I HAD A KID, AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME SHIT! YOU EVEN TRIED TO CLONE HIM! WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME-’

‘Daddy, who is that?’

Jason stopped. Danny had woken up and found them fighting.

‘Danny, what do you mean? Isn’t he the frootloop that cloned you?’

Danny shook his head. He’d never seen that man before!

‘Jaylad, I-’

Before Bruce could say anything else, Jason fell slack. He had fainted from the stress.

First - Previous - Next - AO3

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp #dp x dc #red hood #batman #jason todd #dad jason #dad hood

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pinkcherryblossom18 · 1 year

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Summary: Joe's inner monologue about his reclusive neighbor before kidnapping her.

Tw: Joe, Love, drugging yourself, medicinal drugs being used wrong, alcohol.

Word Count: 1,036

You are shy, silent, and far away as possible if you can help it. You cover yourself even when you're at home, ashamed to be you even when no one else is around. So far away from yourself and so drugged up that you didn’t notice your surroundings half of the time.

Your anxiety meds and the wine would have to go, I could say that. Taking those at night before sleeping couldn’t be good, even throughout the day with you taking them. Thankfully during the day, you take them with water, and at night you take them with wine, how you haven’t died yet is a shock to me. If anything, you should have overdosed, no one would find you until they noticed that you haven’t been in town during your usual Mondays. They would find you, half rotten with a wine bottle in your hand, laying on the couch. It's a horrible thought but a true one, you could die and I can bet that you don’t care.

Though, I suppose you don’t care because no one sees you anyway, am I right about that?

You think you can take care of yourself but you can’t. With the pills and the drinking, again I’m shocked you haven’t died yet or been arrested. You can’t take care of yourself, you need someone to do it for you.

That’s where me and Love come in, we can help you but you refuse to let us. Refuse to let anyone do anything to help you even though you need it. Fiercely independent and self-destructive you are.

You don’t like to be close to them, the people in this town, if you could help it, and considering that barely anyone here knows your name, you got what you want. From what others have told me, you have been here for a very long time and yet only one or two people know your name but no one has been inside of your house or you inside of theirs. No one knows you, you succeeded in what you were planning.

Being completely invisible.

I asked around, but no one really knows you, all they know is that you appear once a week around town and then disappear for the rest of it. Every Monday you make an appearance, you get what you need and then you leave without a trace. Love asked around as well, even if I wanted to keep you for myself, her also wanting you was better than everything ending in your murder.

What can I say? You caught our attention from the moment that you stepped out of your house on that Monday, it was your weekly shopping time but I could see that disappointment in your eyes when we said hello. You really didn’t want to be caught, did you? But you were and over the course of those few minutes, you went from tense to calm, in the span of minutes we accomplished something no one else in this town could.

You actually enjoyed our presence.

Then you tried to disappear again, not walking outside of our home for days and I could see you making sure that we weren’t outside on Mondays before you left. Why were you scared? What about us made you so terrified that you took the measures to make sure that we didn’t see you? It was like you didn’t want anyone to get close to you the way that we were, you were scared so you started to do with us the way that you did with everyone else.

But that's the point, isn’t it?

You don’t want to be seen or heard, rather you would not like to be seen anywhere and just stay at your house with your work and alcohol and pills and never leave but you need to. You have to and you hate it. But somehow, the new neighbors seemed to worm their way to you, seemed to almost make sure that you weren’t alone and after a while you let them.

You gave us the satisfaction of giving in.

You sometimes watched their baby. You loved Henry, always doing something with him when I or Love came to get him, not noticing the adoring eyes that Love would give you with our son, I can imagine the fantasies that play in her mind every time she sees you with him, just paying attention to Henry. Caring and staying with him, doing what every babysitter should do but it makes her go crazy just to see it.

And let me be honest with you, it makes me think things too.

She smiles every time her phone bings with a message from you, just simple things like sending pictures to Love at random times to show her that Henry was safe, though never showing yourself in these pictures.

You never picked up on our small hints, never sensing what we wanted for you that you so clearly wanted from us. But that was alright, comfortable was what we were aiming for and we can stay in the friend zone if needed.

Then we started to come over and you soaked up the attention, still doing your normal Mondays but letting us come over whenever we wanted or you coming to ours. The loneliness was getting to you when someone started paying attention, you started vying for it desperately needing our attention and we let you have all of it.

And we were fine for weeks, never experiencing any interruptions considering that you don’t really talk to your family and don’t have any friends. Then, you fell into your old routine again and made sure that we didn’t go in between those walls again.

Love found out, for a few months before we showed up that you were moving, that you were pulling away because what? It would hurt when you left, the couple that had been so kind to you and had refused to leave you alone like everyone else. That you liked that and so know you needed to get away from us before you got too hurt.

What else were we supposed to do? Let you leave?

I don’t think so.

#joe goldberg x reader #love quinn x reader #joe goldberg #love quinn

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what-gs-watching · 27 days

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"You guys are like a dead married couple on acid."

Y’ALL, I watched Dead Boy Detectives. Which really, should come as no surprise. Because of the whole Neil Gamain thing. But also because that kind of weird is right up my alley.

I have to say, I’m absolutely loving this trend of teen-shows-with-absolutely-wild-shit-happening. This was not a thing when I was younger, and I thoroughly appreciate it. Why did I only have Dawson’s Creek and Sabrina the Teenage Witch and fucking Boy Meets World? Don’t get me wrong, I love all of those but what I really would have benefited from was teen drama with fucked up situations. Gen Z is kind of lucky I guess? (LOL jk except for the entire state of the world, but at least they get good shows…)

Wherein two teenaged ghosts form a detective agency to help solve cases for other ghosts that would otherwise go ignored, while running from death lest they be forced into the afterlife and separated, making friends with a psychic and other humans along the way.

The thing is, you gotta let go with this show. It gets INCREDIBLY weird and you have to roll with it. Edwin’s death by accidental satanic sacrifice? Sure. Crystal the psychic purposely letting a demon possess her? Okay yeah. A supernatural entity that controls all cats in a small town, ridiculously named the Cat King? Harder to swallow, but I guess. A literal crow that gets turned into a boy who loves astrology? Confusing but, go on. Incredibly aggressive and vulgar sprites eventually locked up in a jar? Actually, that’s hilarious I’m good with that.

Truly, it’s absurd. And surprisingly violent. But also, and again no surprise, I was all about the underlying subtext between Edwin, who died in 1916, and his relationship with Charles, who died in 1989. I will always get behind a decades long ‘will they won’t they’ even if it’s between ghosts. Because I’m a fucking sucker for boys maybe being in love. And the entire trope in general. I love love, gang, even if it’s surrounded by horrible things happening. Maybe even more, if it is? I’m not sure what that says about me, but I’m WITH it.

Also there is a TON going on in this show, they cover an incredible amount in 8 episodes. I always appreciate shows that can carry an overall storyline and smaller ones in a good balance. Monster of the week slash lore smushed together is always so satisfying.

I’ve seen some reviews talking about the acting being less than stellar but like, they’re supposed to be kids. Everything is dramatic to kids. Who cares? They carried it as best as they could, and there isn’t anything really that stuck out to me as absolutely cringe worthy. Yeah they look older than they’re meant to but again, who cares. Let go, people.

AND how excited was I to see the actress that played Rowena in Supernatural as the Night Nurse? Absolutely perfect choice. If they get another season I can’t wait to see her relationship with the boys grow.

Thinking about it, maybe I like teen dramas that are absolutely not grounded in reality because it’s easier to stomach the allegories they want you to, that way. Edwin learns to confront his feelings, both about Charles and with the kid that inadvertently caused his death. Crystal struggles with her memory and the person she used to be versus the person she wants to be. Niko has to figure out how to have friends again after becoming a shut-in. Charles struggles with memories from his life and feeling powerless, choosing to paper a happy face over it instead. Jenny has to confront her distrust of literally everyone and her fear of love (even if that went horribly wrong).

I don’t want to be beaten over the head with life lessons (I still haven’t finished Dawson’s Creek, it’s just too much to take sometimes) but I WILL absorb them while characters fight off horrible witches and try to defeat sea monsters. Ya girl clearly needs to be tricked into learning things. Don’t we all? Isn’t it better that way?

I mean, you’re still getting force fed those slightly saccharine sentiments, for sure, but it’s easier to swallow. Gimme a little bit of spice with that sweet, please.

The point is: this show is adorable. Can a show that’s about ghosts and witches and general supernatural fuckery be adorable? I don’t care, it totally is. And it slightly quenched my unending Good Omens thirst for like, a minute, and that’s obviously incredibly hard to do.

So, I’m here for it. Gimme more Dead Boys.

#what g's watching #dead boy detective agency #dead boy detectives #charles x edwin #edwin payne #charles rowland

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theladyofdeath · 11 months

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Better or Worse {19}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

A/N: Two more chapters! Thank you all for sticking along for the journey. Enjoy!

The weeks have passed by quickly and in less than twenty four hours I’ll be standing at the altar with my husband, renewing our vows.

Throwing a ceremony together so quickly has been exhausting, especially considering my book released last week, but I’ve actually enjoyed the chaos. My sisters have helped tremendously, even in the moments that I’ve insisted that I didn’t need their help. Nonetheless, tomorrow's success will go to them. We’ve all worked hard as hell, which is why the three of us are currently dressed in our finest and sitting on the rooftop of one of Velaris’ most prestigious restaurants.

While Cassian, Azriel, and Rhysand are surely at some shithole bar, the three of us decided on a little class in celebration of tomorrow.

As the server fills our glasses and leaves the remainder of the bottle of wine in an ice-filled chiller, Feyre raises her glass in a salute. “I know toasts usually come at the end of the night, but we’ve never been the most conventional bunch. Nes, you and Cassian have been the pillar of strength for our group for so long. When shit gets hard, the two of you are the ones to step up and handle it. Your marriage is no different. Things may have gotten rough for a bit—” I roll my eyes at her understatement, but can’t pull the smile from my lips if I try. “But you didn’t let that break the two of you, you didn’t let that tear you apart like so many others would have. You never gave up on your love, on each other, and I’m so glad we get to celebrate that tomorrow.”

I clear my throat to push away the flood of emotion and we clink our glasses together. “Thank you. But the real toast should be for the two of you because if I had to plan this damn thing alone, I would have died.”

They laugh but it’s no joke.

I think it may have killed me.

Although tonight is supposed to be all fun and games, we go over our checklist one last time. We’ll have to get to the venue early tomorrow and finish decorating, but it shouldn’t be too bad.

“Is it weird that I’m nervous?” I ask, fiddling with the stem of my wine glass. “I mean, we’re already married, but this feels different.”

“I don’t think it's weird,” Elain says, cheeks already pink from the wine. “I think it’s nice. It just means that it means a lot to you.”

“I bet Cass is just as nervous,” Feyre says, chiming in. “And just wait until he sees you in your dress. I’ve never seen anything so sexy and elegant in my life.”

I grin. I’d be lying if I said that I haven’t been dreaming about Cassian's reaction when he sees the dress I bought. “Having to make it through the entire ceremony and reception is going to be torture for him, and I can’t wait.”

“Sadist,” Feyre mumbles, and Elain chokes on her last drop of wine.

She’s not wrong. The sheath of lace fits me like a second skin, the only ornamentation the occasional pattern of intricate beading and the sweetheart neckline dips just low enough to be alluring without being obscene. The lingerie I’ll be wearing beneath it is another story entirely.

Reaching for the bottle, I refill each of our glasses, setting it down at the edge of the table when it’s empty. “Listen, if he isn’t feral by the time we get home, something has gone horribly wrong.”

Home, because we aren’t going on a second honeymoon. We aren’t taking a trip or going anywhere, that’s not what this renewal was about. Sure, we’re having the ceremony and the party afterwards, but it’s to celebrate us.

Home, because there’s nowhere else we’d rather go and no one else we’d rather be with.

The food is earth shattering. By the time we’re done eating, I’m so full that I can hardly move. Cassian will be jealous that I ate so luxuriously without him, but it was too delicious for me to care. I feel a slight buzz from the wine, but nothing too daunting. I feel carefree and completely excited.

With our empty plates in front of us, Elain asks, “Any news on the adoption front? You haven’t mentioned it in a couple of weeks.”

“We have a meeting with an agency set up for next week, actually,” I say, almost hesitantly, which earns two sets of worried glances in my direction. I shake my head. “I just kinda wanted to see how it went before mentioning it, I guess. I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.”

Mine included. I have learned through my struggles with infertility that nothing is to be expected.

Elain reaches over and squeezes my hand. “We only want to be there for you. We’re here with you both on this journey, Nesta.”

Knowing that was the point of telling our family about our past struggles, I nod. “I know, and we've been talking a lot about it for the last couple of weeks, Cass and I. I’m getting…excited.”

The agency we’ve been in touch with works mostly with young, unwed mothers in Velaris who aren’t ready for a child. They know that there are loving families, like us, who would do anything to find that missing piece and they help connect the mothers and families. There’s no guarantee we’d meet the mother, as some women opt for closed adoptions, but we don’t care either way.

We haven’t even been approved to work with the agency yet, so I try not to get ahead of myself.

“We’re meeting with them at their office and if that goes well, we’ll have a home visit a few days after that.”

“A home visit?” Feyre asks, eyebrows rising. “That seems a bit quick.”

“Oh, I’m sure it won’t be,” I reply, swirling the wine in my glass. “This is to see if we even get accepted into the program. I’m sure there are going to be plenty of things we run into in this process that are frustrating, but it’s all going to be worth it in the end.”

“I think it’s beautiful that you want to adopt,” Elain says, eyes misty once again from those mom-of-infant hormones.

We leave soon after and take a walk around the city before I’m back in my car, driving home. I love spending time with my sisters and I’m thankful for all that they’ve done, but I can’t wait to get home, can’t wait to get in bed. The sooner I’m home, the sooner I’m asleep, the sooner tomorrow will be here.

Once I’m home, the house is dark and quiet. Greg is sprawled out on the couch and hardly stirs as I pass him to head upstairs. I’m not sure what time Cassian will be home but hopefully it isn’t too late. If he’s drinking, which I have no doubt he is, he needs time to sleep it off before the morning.

We’re not twenty-one anymore.

I sneak a peek in my office where my dress is hanging on full display so that the wrinkles are all out. Cass has been banned from this room and he’s done very good at avoiding it like the plague. He won’t be seeing me in this beauty until tomorrow.

After I shower, I throw on one of my favorite t-shirts, one of Cassian’s, and brush my teeth and hair before sinking into bed. I just open my newest read when the front door opens and closes. It’s not long after when I hear a bang, clatter, Greg’s pissed off noise, and Cassian’s string of filthiest curses.

Maybe I should’ve left a light on.

I hear noises from the kitchen, noises that sound suspiciously like pots and pans being pulled out. I wait, listening, my book open on my lap, waiting for him to come to bed. Then I hear the microwave open and close.

Sighing, I throw the blankets back and head downstairs, making sure he hears me as I descend into the living room.

I hear a cabinet slam followed by another barked curse. Entering the kitchen, I lean a hip against the table and cross my arms, taking in the carnage around me.

The perks of having a chef for a husband: he makes delicious food for every anniversary, birthday, party, you name it.

The cons of having a chef for a husband: he makes questionable food when he’s drunk.

There’s a pot on the stove, pasta boiling away, while a pan filled with an unknown brown sauce simmers nearby. His trusty colander is already in the sink, waiting to be used, while he’s on his hands and knees, digging through the cabinets, looking for something. The microwave beeps, letting us know its contents are ready to be removed. He doesn’t even hear it.

I cross my arms and wait, thinking he’ll realize I’m here eventually. After another minute, listening to the microwave beep as it reminds us it’s done, I ask, “What are you looking for?”

A loud thump carries through the kitchen as Cassian bangs his head on the underside of the shelf he was searching through. He scrambles backward, which is honestly comical, before getting to his feet and facing me.

He freezes as his eyes rove over my body, taking in the t-shirt and the fact that I’m wearing nothing underneath it. “Mother’s tits, you’re so fucking hot. I’m the luckiest bastard on the planet.”

I smirk, welcoming the praise, but just then the microwave beeps again and he gasps. “Cheese toast.”

Blinking, I wait, making sure I heard him right.

Sure enough, he pulls a plate out of the microwave, consisting of two pieces of sandwich bread with cheese melted over it.

“Hungry?” I ask, chuckling as he tears into the cheese toast.

“Carbs,” he replies around a mouth full of cheese and bread, pointing a flailing arm at the pasta boiling on the stove, as if that explains it all. “Need carbs so I’m not hungover tomorrow.”

“You know another way not to be hungover?” I tease, sauntering over to him. “Don't drink your weight in liquor.”

“Baby, if I drank my weight in liquor I’d be dead,” he says, shoving the rest of the toast that’s not really toast in his mouth. “Have you seen me? I’m gigantic.”

“Mhmm.” I’m close enough to him now that I brush his hair out of his face. “Where did those idiots take you?”

“The bar.”

I laugh, quietly. “I can tell that much. Which one?”

“Rita’s,” he croons. “They told her I’m renewing my vows tomorrow, and she gave us a free round of shots…multiple…multiple free rounds of shots.”

“Explains the whiskey on your breath,” I chuckle. “Well, I’m glad you had fun. Eat your noodles and come to bed.”

“You’re not staying?” He frowns. “Stay. Eat.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s after midnight. I’m old. I’m tired.”

“You’re not old, you’re…sexy in my shirt.” He grabs the old, thinned fabric and pulls me back towards him, but before he can make his move, the water boils over on the stove.

The words that come out of this man…I married a sailor.

Despite being three sheets to the wind, Cassian is able to clean up quickly and salvage his meal. He plates his pasta and pours his sauce over it, which is a mix of barbecue sauce, honey, and orange marmalade, and smells much better than it has a right to. Just as I’m about to head upstairs, I pause to drop a kiss to the top of his head, telling him to hurry up, but his arms snake around my waist, pulling me down into his lap.

“Stay with me,” he grumbles, pressing his lips to my neck. “Please?”

“Eight o’clock is going to come super early,” I grumble, leaning back into his embrace.

With his free arm, he twirls the pasta on a fork and takes a big bite. “Sure as fuck is.”

We stay like that until he finishes eating, clearing his plate. I stand to take it to the sink, but as soon as I’m on my feet, he’s sweeping me into his arms.

It’s romantic, but with how much he’s had to drink, likely ill-advised.

“You better not fall down the stairs while you’re carrying me,” I threaten as he heads up to our room.

For a moment, he wavers, but just as I gasp he starts to laugh and straightens himself.

“Just kidding.”

I smack him on the arm which only seems to bring him more joy as he reaches the second floor landing and pads down the hall and into our room. He doesn’t drop me on the bed but brings me into the bathroom with him instead. He sets me on the vanity before pulling his shirt over his head and taking off his belt, giving me one hell of a show.

He knows I’m watching and he loves it, both of us shameless.

After brushing his teeth and washing up, he kicks off the remainder of his jeans and scoops me up, yet again.

“Your hair is still a mess,” I grumble, my lips pressing against his shoulder.

“Sexy mess or disgusting mess?” He asks, and now that the alcohol is beginning to wear off, I can tell he’s exhausted.

“Somewhere in the middle,” I say, and he chuckles as he lays me down in bed and crawls up behind me, wrapping me in his arms.

His body is warm, safe, my own personal haven. I don’t even think he realizes it, don’t even think he knows the magnitude of what his arms around me brings. I melt into him and close my eyes, sighing contentedly.

“Remember the night before our wedding?” He whispers into the darkness.

Laughing softly, I nod. “Yes, but I’m surprised you do.”

If I thought Cassian was drunk now, it was nothing compared to the state he was in when showed up on my doorstep at three in the morning. More specifically, the doorstep of my father’s house, where I was staying with my sisters that night. Feyre and Elain were both still in high school and I was never the best at making friends, so rather than going out and getting drunk the night before I got married, I hung out at home with my sisters.

Cassian, on the other hand, hung out with his brothers in our brand new apartment off campus and got trashed, thanks to one of the older guys in his fraternity buying them whatever they wanted as a wedding gift.

Rhys and Az had passed out in the living room and Cass decided it would be a good idea to come see me. So he called a cab and then he was there, drunk and stumbling and making so much noise that I’m sure my father heard him sneaking in. We fell asleep, just like this, in each other’s arms, just like we did every night. We didn’t care about any old wives tales about staying apart the night before. We wanted to be together, so that's what we did.

My father was not thrilled the next morning when he woke up and found Cassian sitting at the breakfast table.

“Dad was pissed.” I can’t help but laugh. “I knew without a doubt at that moment that I was making the right decision, marrying you.”

He hums. “Were you doubting it before my drunken escapade?”

“No,” I say, and run my fingers across the arm that’s slung around my waist. “But that just proved my feelings right. Validation.”

He kisses the back of my neck. “I didn’t think I could love you more than I did back then. Didn’t think it was possible. But I do. I love you more now than I did then, and I’ll love you more tomorrow than I do today.”

I swallow as my eyes line with tears. “Save it for your vows.”

He huffs a laugh. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. My vows are way more romantic than that.”

I can’t wait to hear them, can’t wait to stand with him hand in hand and celebrate our marriage after all that we have overcome. As I drift off into a deep sleep, I once again know, without a doubt, that Cassian is my one and only, the other half of my soul, my lifelong partner and my best friend.

I don’t know what I did to be this damn lucky.

#nessian #nesta #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #modern au #marriage au #fanfic #fanfiction #snelbz x theladyofdeath collab #sjm

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dumbbitchenergy17 · 11 months

Text

Clan of Three - Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen: The Mines of Mandalore

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers and a heavy role to bear. Now reunited their journeys across the galaxy are just beginning to complete their final mission.

Word Count: 5.5K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: some wholesome moments, light violence/blood, Din being such a father

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The Boonta Eve is in full swing the festivities fill the streets of Mos Eisley as you fly through your home planet. Reaching the familiar hangar both you and Din land and you see Peli watching a wide grin on her face as both of your canopies open. “Whoohoo! You hear that? She’s purring like a nuzzle shrew.” Peli says

“No complaints. Still faster than I know what to do with.” Din comments and Peli laughs, “Well, I’ll tune her up, just the same. So, uh, where’s my guy?” Grogu perks up from his small port before worming his way to Din’s seat.

“Huh? There he is!” With a leap and flip in the air, he’s caught by the mechanic that exclaims in glee, “Now who taught you how to leap like a Lurmen, huh?” Both you and Din climb out of your ships as Grogu babbles at Peli.

“Was that his first word? I think he’s talking to me. Did you hear that? He said Peli.”

“We’re here on business.” Din says and Peli moves the child to her hip as she leads you further into the hangar, “Oh, are the Hutts back? Are you takin’ out Boba Fett?” She asks and Din shakes his head,

“I need a droid part.” Peli groans before turning to her pit droids, “Ugh. Boring! Hey, get the Jawas back in here before they hit the cantina. You know how Mos Eisley gets during Boonta week.” She makes a drunken impression and you smirk.

“Oh, I know my share of Boonta week.” You say, a holiday celebrated during your childhood your parents taking you to watch the pod-racing but during your time as an orphan using that time to get your latest coin and item to trade off with Jawas. Many aristocrats and wealthy figures would make appearances for the Tatooinian holiday.

“I’m looking for a replacement IG memory circuit.” Din says and Peli laughs as the Jawas are brought in, “Oh. Hey, Grandpa. They haven’t made those for a while,” She turns speaking Jawaese though much faster for you to translate you do pick up ‘memory circuit’ in the conversation. The Jawas speak amongst themselves before replying with the bad news,

“Sorry, pal, no chance cubes.” Peli says and Din looks at the Jawas, “They can’t find the part?”

The mechanic shakes her head, “Nope.” She says popping the ‘p’ in nope.

“I need my droid fixed now.” Din explains and Peli’s eyes light up as she returns the child to Din before standing beside an R5 droid, “Which is why I think you should buy this beauty here.” She pats the droid on its head as it clanks and gives frightened beeps.

“I can’t use an astromech. I need a droid that’s rated for spelunking.” Din explains and Peli gives him a look, “Spelunking? What are you spelunking?”

“I’m going to Mandalore. I need a droid that can explore ahead of me and test the atmosphere, make sure it’s safe to breathe.” Din explains and Peli nods but you see R5 start to retreat beeping nervously,

“Okay, well…Uhuhuhuh. Hey! Get right back here. Right back here, scaredy droid. Come on now, you gotta shine,” Forcing the droid to stand in front of you and Din as she laughs, “This R5 astromech is built for adventure.” The droid beeps completely disagreeing.

“What? Of course, you are. You’re supposed to be piloting starfighters across the galaxy and fighting tyranny.” She says and the droid continues giving worried beeps, “It’s falling apart, and besides, I got no room for it on the N1.” Din says.

“We have R4 remember Di-” You start but Peli cuts you off still in businesswoman mode trying to get a good deal,

“Nonsense. R5D4 is as good as the day it came back from serving in the Rebellion. And I’ll reinstall your droid port and this little baby here can even copilot,” She says and you see the droid trembling in fear, “Hey if you don’t settle your bolts, I’ll sell you back to the Jawas. And because it’s Boonta, what I’m gonna do is I’m gonna give you this for half the price and throw in a free oil bath.”

As night falls Peli reinstalls the droid port as R5 beeps fearfully to the side before it's being put in the ship “Oh, come on now, don’t be a coward. You’re an astromech, act like one,” The droid beeps fearfully and Peli looks at the two of you as you sit in your ships, “I wouldn’t rely too much on this one. Its circuitry is a little fragile.”

“I thought you said it was built for adventure.” Din says as Peli closes both of your canopies shaking her head, “What? Sorry, I can’t hear you!” She holds her hand to her eye as the engines of both of your ships startup. You begin your take-off as Peli waves off to you,

“May the Force be with you!”

The fireworks of the city fill the dark night sky in a multitude of colors reflecting off the glass and your face. Looking over at Din seeing the colors reflect off the beskar as Grogu looks at them in awe as they go off right beside you from your height. “All right. You ready for an adventure?” Din says as you leave the planet your mission begins to travel to Mandalore. Exiting hyperspace and reaching the Mandalore system you follow beside Din as he heads toward Mandalore you can see the planet and the storms that cover the planet. R4 beeps slightly grumpy still mad at Din for bringing a new droid when it was truly capable.

“I know R4, you are more than capable of this mission. Din just does things his own way.” You say and R4 grumbles in his beeps. Looking over the planet you couldn’t help the nerves seeing the planet.

“So this is Mandalore..” You say. “Yes…it looks scary but it was once green and beautiful, back when the songs were written. It’s Mandalore, the homeworld of our people. Every Mandalorian can trace their roots back to this planet, and the beskar mines deep within.” Din says as he speaks to the two of you.

“So you were raised there like Bo-Katan?” You ask and you see him shake his head from his ship. “No, I was not raised there. I’ve never been to Mandalore. I grew up on that moon. Concordia.” You see the moon beside the planet that was Concordia, that was Din’s home planet where he grew up and was raised.

“And that’s Kalevala where we visited Bo-Katan. It’s in the same system.” Din says and you see the other planet though further away but you could see it on your navigation map. You hear Grogu babble through your comms as you move closer to Mandalore, “A Mandalorian has to understand maps and know their way around. That way, you’ll never be lost.” Making your descent instantly entering a storm as the rain pellets down on your ship harshly, the thunder rumbling as your ship shakes. Looking at your maps seeing them jam and glitch.

“Din? Din, can you hear me?” You call through your comms getting and you get cuts of his voice though mainly static, “Ke-...ep G-Gooing…d-d-don’t tur-” It cuts off as the ship continues to rattle and you hear R4 beep worried as you try looking through the storm and the failing screens,

“I think the fusion bombs disrupted the magnetic field around the planet. We might not be able to communicate with anyone outside of the atmosphere. Keep your eyes peeled R4…down here, we’re completely cut off from the rest of the galaxy.” You say as the rattling of the ship through the storm finally breaks through and you reach the planet seeing the crystalized planet all of its shards of green glass just like the small piece you got from Jawas.

“K..kid?! Can you hear me?” You hear Din’s voice cut through your comms and you sigh in relief, “I can hear you where are you?” You respond by seeing a large dome but it’s destroyed. Everything here felt familiar though you’ve never been to Mandalore before, it still felt right being here.

“Sending coordinates now,” Din responds and you get through pretty easily, and soon you find a clearing surrounded by jagged pieces of glass landing happy to see the N-1. The child coos happily seeing you in one piece inside your ship, “I’m happy to see you too.” You say as Gorgu taps on the glass.

“R5, you ready? I’m gonna need you to scout ahead and analyze the atmosphere.” Din says to the droid apart of his ship and R5 beeps fearful and disagreeing to go, “That wasn’t a question. Go over to that split in the rock, and take an air sample of the ruins below.” R5 nervously but slowly leaves the droid port as it moves a bit further away before looking back and beeping.

“The droid will be fine. I just need him to take some readings to make sure it’s safe. Don’t be a baby. Just get the samples we need, and hurry up.” Din waves to the droid and it looks at the split in the rock nervously. You hear the droid port in yours open up as R4 quickly speeds past it grumbling in binary about needing to be the only droid. Reluctantly R5 joins the other droid glad to have a companion. You look over at Din as he watches the two droids leave around the corner.

“You got R4 jealous,” You comment and he gives you a look, “Jealous it’s a droid.” The child whimpers and Din points at the scope, “Here, look. You can watch him on the scope.” You can see on your own the two blinking dots of both droids as they head further out before they completely disappear.

“R4? Buddy, you hear me? R4?” You call out in your comms as you only get static, you would jump out there to go after your droid if you knew the air was safe, “R5, come in. Do you read me? It’s probably just interference.” Grogu babbles before Din sighs, “Fine. I’ll go get him. Normally, this is droid work. I was hoping to avoid going out there. I’ll pressurize my helmet, seal yourself in your pod. Be right back.” Din explains as Grogu climbs into his pod and once Din makes sure he’s secure he climbs out of the ship before heading to yours.

“I’m gonna look for the droids,” You go to move to join him your instincts running to be by his side but he shakes, “The air may be unsafe for you without a helmet. You stay here with the child.”

“Be safe..” You say and he nods, “Don’t worry, kid, I’ll be right back.” You’re forced to watch him walk away from your ship Grogu now letting himself out of his pram sitting in the N-1. You could hear the sad cooing and the fear in his babbles and you had your own concern but you didn’t try to panic the child more.

“Din’s gonna be already…he’s strong. Nothing stops him.” You say and you hear the child’s worried noises dialing down but you keep your gaze focused on the turn just waiting for Din and the droids to turn the corner. It felt like hours and you let out a sigh of relief seeing Din turn the corner followed by the droids. Gorgu babbles happily tapping on the glass to be let out but Din shakes his head,

“Hang on, kid. Not until I check the toxicity. You got an analysis on the atmosphere yet?” Din asks and R4 beeps revealing the readings as Din looks at them shocked, “The charts were wrong. The atmosphere is breathable. Bo-Katan was right. Mandalore is not cursed.” Hearing the news you quickly open your canopy taking in the fresh air happy it wasn’t poisoned and would kill you. You felt an energy deep in the planet as you step foot on the planet for the first time,

“So this is Mandalore…” You say in awe of just the surface of the planet as you join the group out in the open, “R4 you wait at the ship in case we need a quick exit.” You say and the droid beeps happy to help and enters the X-wing. Following Din, you enter a cave seeing the large green chunks of glass before you’re led to an opening off the end of the cliff and you take in the destroyed city.

“That’s the Civic Center. This is where Bo-Katan said to go.” Din points towards the middle of the large buried city. Looking down at the large fall as you take in everything, “Ready?” Din asks and you nod letting him scoop you up before walking off the cliff. His jetpack allows for a steady free fall as Grogu follows in his pram that hovers down beside you. Descending past the mangled metal skeletons of buildings that are long destroyed you stop on a metal platform as you look further down seeing the journey you still had down. “The mines should be further down. I guess we’re on our own from here.” Continuing down entering a large well, past ancient water pipes, this must be the system leading to the mines of Mandalore soon you reached the bottom. Brought to your feet stepping on the damp ground as you take in the area around you.

“These waters should flow down to the mines, and the Living Waters within.” Din points to where the water flows before you make your way through the caves, Din used the flashlight on his helmet to light the way, Grogu with his lights built into his pram, and your form of orange light coming from the beskar saber in your hand.

The large tunnel has more water pipes branching off though no large amounts of water flow through them just a steady drip, “Look, that passage heads down.” He says as you enter a smaller tunnel. “So how would we know what these Living Waters look like?” You ask as you continue down the tunnel. This all felt too familiar, remembering the candles and lanterns lighting your path a feeling in your chest pulling you towards the large cave of water.

“You will know,” Din explains and you continue behind him you come across a pile of rubble and a smooth piece of metal sticks out. Din kneels down pulling from the ground a Mandalorian helmet the visor broke. It looked years old, rusted, and encrusted in the dirt. You felt a sense of dread too late to get Din out of the way of the trap as it encloses him. Looking at the large creature that has Din in his clutches you dodge an attack before swinging your saber it cuts through not deep enough as one of its legs hits you throwing you back. Rolling to a stand something whips through the air connecting to your shoulder looking at your shoulder and seeing a needle sticking out of your skin. Ripping it out seeing it empty as a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea rushes through you. The saber falls from your hands shut off as you collapse into the dirt. From the shadows, Gorgu now out of his pram watches Din be in a tight metal cage, and a creature appears from the large mech suit tying a chain around your arms before retreating into the suit and disappearing dragging you along with the Mandalorian.

Your vision comes to feeling your arms encased above your head groaning from the pain in your skull. Trying to move your hands feeling the rattle of a chain that pulls you from the hazy as your vision clears. In a cave with a few lights, you see ahead of you this firepit with a cage on it, as this creature pulls things out of the cage with a large staff. You see the blaster and his other weapons hit the ground and your memory rushes back. Din, you hear him groan in pain as you tug at your restraints feeling no give. Looking at your person seeing your weapons gone as well in a pile beside Din’s stuff. The creature jabs the Mandalorian before disappearing elsewhere. Hearing shuffling and you spot the small child sneaking his way in to rescue the both of you. Grogu approaches Din looking at the cage that is on a spit, you see him raise his hand attempting to free him with the Force. You see the cage shake and groan though quietly to not alert the being. It beings to lift up when a piece of machinery holding the cage snaps off a large clang alerting the creature.

“Get to Bo-Katan,” Din says weakly as the creature grabs a staff to electrocute Grogu but he jumps dodging the attack. It attempts to chase after him as Grogu raises to his pram but you kick your free foot against its metal knee as it trips slightly. It glares at you raising the staff and digging it into you as it electrocutes you. A scream rips through your body as you seize before your head falls down your body twitching from the pain. It hurt like hell, your body drained and overloaded at the same time. But the child was able to escape so the pain was worth it. You just hope he gets to Bo-Katan and gains her help. You smirk up at the creature,

“That’s all you got?” It makes a snarling sound and raises the staff jamming it back onto your body as your screams fill the air before the pain becomes too much and you fall unconscious.

The small child escapes the ruins of the civic center reaching the N-1 and closing the canopy before a reptilian creature could attack it smashing into the glass. The R5 unit looks at the small child sitting in the pilot’s seat pointing at the viewscreen at the planet that resides a Mandalorian R5 quickly understands transferring the information to R4 who beeps confused not seeing his owner return with the child. Soon both N-1 and X-Wing rise and leave Mandalore.

A tired princess of a destroyed planet rests on her throne waiting for her life to wilt away. However, a droid interrupts her moping, “Your Majesty. Unscheduled visitors.” Bo-Katan sighs seeing both the N-1 and X-Wing fly past the castle’s large open windows. Sitting up grabbing her blasters and heading towards the ship the foot droid following behind,

“Let’s get rid of him once and for all.” She says as she reaches the landing pad sees the two ships and calls out to them.

“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear the last time. I want to be left alone.” The canopy for the N-1 opens revealing the lone child as it babbles and Bo-Katan looks over at the empty X-Wing only its droid in command, “What happened to them? Download the astromechs. Find out where they were.” She orders her droid as it takes the information from both astromechs. Once receiving the location she brings the two droids and the child onto her own personal ship.

“We’re going to find them little one,” Bo-Katan promises, though she felt some sympathy towards the child’s father her concern was more aimed at her own flesh and blood.

You were sure how long you were unconscious but you woke up to sharp pain. A hiss pulls from your lips as your eyes wearily open seeing a needle coming out of your arm. You hear a groan of pain and you look over to the cage Din is in seeing tubing coming from there. “Din..” You croak your voice hoarse from the pain of being electrocuted.

You see the creature return coming over to a droid and starting it up seeing it being to pump, a hiss comes from your mouth and you hear a groan come from Din. Looking at the needle your eyes widen seeing your blood being drained by it and you can assume it’s not going to stop. Pulling at your chains trying to force the needle to be ripped out only for the blood to be drained faster. You can feel your body grow weaker from the energy being put in and the quickly draining blood. A blaster bolt hits the pump droid stopping the extraction and you let your head fall trying to stop the black spots from filling your vision. You hear footsteps and gentle hands cupping your face, “Y/n?! Can you hear me?” You’re surprised to see the bright orange hair and the woman’s face. You spot the creature sneaking up behind her with the electric staff,

“Be..behind.” You mumble and Bo-Katan realizes and was able to dodge the attack but is hit multiple times stunning her as she groans in pain. Rolling on the ground grab the Darksaber igniting it as your head falls back down. You hear the struggles of fighting before a large sound of metal being cut and it grows silent. Bo-Katan comes over to you pulls the needle out of your arm and starts working on the chains but you weakly shake your head, “Din…” Your grand-aunt sighs before going to help the Mandalorian as you rest your head back trying to get rid of the waves of dizziness but soon fail falling back unconscious.

“Din, are you okay? Can you hear me?” Bo-Katan asks looking around at the cage and seeing him lying on his stomach she couldn’t even tell if he was breathing, “It’s Bo-Katan. I’m gonna get you out of here, all right? Can you move at all?” The Mandalorian mumbles something but she shakes her head,

“Din, I can’t hear you. Are you trying to say something?” The Mandalorian weakly speaks two words, “Behind you.”

Bo-Katan barely dodges the attack of the creature in the large mech suit it was not dead the first time. The large suit stomps trying to crush Bo-Katan as she rolls out of the way cutting off one of the limbs. It brings a leg dodge but she brings up her shield deflecting the attack. With much more grace than Din has even wielded the blade she has ease chopping off the limbs before chopping the head of the machine. Before the cyborg creature could try to escape again Bo-Katan stabs the creature straight through its mechanical/organic head.

A fire crackles far away from the caves as the once-trapped Mandalorian begins to stir away. Din wakes up groaning in pain holding his head and taking in the new location as he sees the female Mandalorian tend to the fire, “What happened?” He asks looking seeing the small child beside him babbling happily and seeing his father awake.

“I saved your life.” Bo-Katan says and Din notices one person missing trying to sit up faster but groans in pain, “Relax she’s alright just still asleep.” Bo-Katan gestures over to your sleeping body Din sighs in relief seeing you alright. He had heard your cries of pain that was inflicted on you but he was useless in helping you. Bo-Katan with the help of the small child had to take two trips to first bring you to safety and set up camp while the child stayed with his father before Bo-Katan returned to bring them both to the set camp.

“How did you find me?” Din asks getting himself into a sitting position, “Your kid. He’s tougher than he looks.” She points to the small child who sputters entranced by the small fire, the flames though much larger than him, “And he’s quite the navigator.” She adds and Din nods,

“Thank you for rescuing me. You were right. Mandalore is not cursed.”

“Was I? Look around. There’s nothing left. A great society is now a memory. I once ruled here for a brief time,” Bo-Katan says reminiscing old and dead memories, “Now, it’s destroyed. Nothing to cling to but ashes.” She sighs getting up holding a small cup filled with a mystery liquid Din looks at it curiously,

“What is this?”

“You’ve never eaten pog soup?” She says shocked and Din shakes his head, “No.”

Bo-Katan chuckles at the irony, “Can you appreciate the irony? Any Mandalorian worth their armor was raised on this since they were his size. You should rest. I’ll get you back to my ship soon enough.” She explains as Din drinks part of the soup lifting his helmet slightly though not revealing his face before giving the rest of the soup to Grogu. He rises with a groan shaking his head,

“I’m not going with you.” He says and Bo-Katan watches him behind to put his weapons and jetpack back on him, “What are you talking about?”

“I must continue to the Mines of Mandalore so that I may be redeemed.” He says finishing by grabbing the darksaber to return to you.

“I honestly think that it’s adorable that you actually believe these children’s stories. But there is nothing magic about the waters.” She says trying to convince him to but he was already on a mission he was not going to drift from.

“Without the Creed, what are we?” He asks her moving to the fire grabbing the last cup of the pog soup and moving towards the sleeping girl, “What do we stand for? Our people are scattered like stars in the galaxy. The Creed is how we survived. You rescued me and I’ll always be in your debt. But I can’t go with you until I fulfill my obligation.” He kneels down and slowly shakes the girl awake.

You feel a gentle caress on your head as you stir from a dreamless sleep, “Come on kid,” You hear Din’s voice as you slowly blink your eyes open a groan coming deep in your chest as you see him kneel down beside you.

“Din..” You whisper as he helps you to sit before he holds out a cup, “Drink. Regain your strength.” He says as you accept the cup drinking what is soup as he looks over you taking any injuries you might have sustained but you just look tired. Bo-Katan watches the gentleness that the Mandalorian gives to you. How the fierce warrior that fought against the Imperials and many bounty hunters and lived act so soft around a small green infant and her own grand-niece.

“I will take you.” She says and you both look over at Bo-Katan, unsure what the context was of their conversation.

“To the Living Waters?” You ask and Bo-Katan nods, “Yes. You’d never find them on your own. Not in all this wreckage.” She says and Din nods,

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me until you see them.” She says and soon you begin your journey once more through the ruins of the old city. The place seemed trapped in time the ruins holding the history of this planet or the few Mandalorians that escaped the purge. Everything felt familiar and welcoming about this place, never once have you stepped foot on Mandalore but it feels like you were returning after years of being apart. An unknown force connects you to this place as Bo-Katan leads you through the city ruins.

“It’s hard to believe that this all was once filled with our kind,” Din says as he takes in the ruins of the once glorious city. It was rare to see a Mandalorian in the same system or planet but having them all together cultivating a planet, growing up, and raising foundlings here, Din couldn’t believe it. He wishes the planet was in its state of prosperity, he would raise you and the child here as foundlings, and you would be back on the planet of your ancestors.

“It wasn’t that long ago. You’d never know it looking at all this destruction.” Bo-Katan says taking in the ruins.

“It looks like it’s been centuries.” You say spinning around while walking and looking at the buildings that are high above you, you imagine Mandalorians traveling by jetpacks or trains and speeders. The people in their armor with pride. You try to imagine your father, being born here. You wonder what he would say if he knew you return to his homeworld, did he wear Mandalorian armor? Did he speak the Creed and Walk the Way?

“The Empire set out to punish us. To wipe away our memory.” Bo-Katan says and Din glances over at the woman, “It must pain you to see it like this after witnessing its beauty.”

Bo-Katan is silent before speaking up, “What pains me is seeing our own kind fight one another time and time again. Killing each other for reasons too confusing to explain. It made us weak. We had no hope to resist being smashed by the fist of the Empire. There. The entrance to the Mines of Mandalore.” She points ahead and you see a tall entrance before you that still remains intact.

“olaror adiik…at te oya'la pirun” (come child…to the living water) A chorus of whispers calls out to you, and the harmony of voices graces your skin. An electric feeling dances along your body the hair on your skin standing feeling the presence. It was the same feeling as you felt that energy from your dream as Din spoke but it felt drowned under your thoughts

“This area looks much older.” He says and the feeling of eyes watching you fade as his voice becomes clear,

“The mines have been here for thousands of years. The Living Waters are in the chambers below.” Bo-Katan explains and you look over at her, “Have you been there?” You ask and she nods,

“Yes, when I was a child.” She says before glancing at you briefly, “So was your father.” You perk up hearing the mention of your father.

“Really?” You ask wanting to know more about your family and their past. The history that connected them so deeply to this planet and its people.

“I was part of the royal family. I took the Creed and was showered with gifts. But the rituals were all just theater for our subjects. They loved watching the princess recite the Mandalorian tenets as her father looked on proudly. Such a heartwarming spectacle. Your father was the same reciting the Creed though he wanted to grow and be the right ruler to Mandalore. One that Mandalorians could fight for and alongside.” Bo-Katan says glancing at you with a nostalgic expression seeing the familiar features of her nephew on your face, “Our family thought it taboo what he believed in at such a young age. He wanted Mandalorians to know that wherever they were in the galaxy they had a home on Mandalore…” She grows quiet glancing at Din slightly, “No matter what Creed they follow.”

Your wide eyes turn to Din and you can sense the surprise coming off him, from your father’s ideals at such a young age. “He would be happy,” Bo-Katan says looking at you, “That you are home.” She says before looking away and you can tell this was a very emotion-filled conversation she hadn’t expected to have in a long time or ever. You grab her hand and she looks at you surprised,

“Thank you for telling me about my father…Your father sounds like an interesting man as well. I would’ve liked to have known him.” You say, you felt like so much of your history was hidden, with only one living relative and the planet that would hold all its secrets in ruins. You could only grasp pieces of your fragmented family legacy. Bo-Katan nods squeezing your hand in return,

“They were great men. They died defending Mandalore.” She says and you knew that even though your father didn’t die defending your planet like your great-grandfather but your father had protected you all those years ago. Keeping a piece of the Kryze Clan alive, protecting his last piece of Mandalore.

“This is the Way.” You speak the words of both Mandalorians' Creed surprising them both. Bo-Katan felt like a piece of her lost family restored with your words, the last living members of a dying clan. Din felt pride and complete shock as well as hearing you speak the words of his Creed with every intent behind it.

“This is the Way…” The two whisper back as they look at the young girl. You were of two dying worlds; the Jedi with its people massacred many years ago being the grandchild of a great Jedi Master and the Mandalorians their planet destroyed their people scattered across the galaxy grandchild of their late Duchess one of the last survivors of a clan.

“ibic cuyir te ara” The chorus echoes through the caves but you’re the only one that turns to the sound. Your hand drifts from Bo-Katan’s as you take the lead. Returning to a familiar tunnel the holders for the torches and lanterns are now destroyed you don’t even use the light from your saber letting that energy guide you. Din, Bo-Katan, and Gorgu quickly follow behind you as you are pulled into a daze turning down a complex system of tunnels as they catch glimpses of you as you move ahead.

“Kid! Wait for us!” Din yells seeing you quickly disappear around a corner of darkness the three of them having light while you travel in darkness, “She doesn’t even know where she’s going.” Din grumbles but Bo-Katan shakes her head with a surprised expression.

“She’s going the right way…” She says as the three quickly follow after the two adults confused about how you knew the way.

“ibic cuyir te ara…olaror adiik” The voices whisper again as turn down another path the darkness surrounds you but it guides you the whispering of Mando’a becoming louder and overlapping as it echoes through the tunnels until you reach an opening. A vast pool of water is accessible by a wide stone staircase. Pillars of stone though roughed by erosion, a greenish glow fills the cave from the green glass that surrounds the planet. It was just like your dream, remnants of broken lanterns make a path toward the murky waters. It’s completely silent as you look out into the water and it ripples and you sense something in there.

Lo te pirun

The voices whisper as you slowly move forward and you pull off your holster holding your blaster and vibro-knife as they fall to the ground.

To mhi

It echoes around as you pull your saber letting it clatter to the floor, the voices whisper into your ears pulling you to the water as you take a step down the water licking at your boot. You pull the Darksaber from your belt the weight heavy in your palm as you ignite the blade the light draining from the room as your gaze follows the sword-like energy coming from the blade. Whispers and haunted memories flow from the blade. Presences fill the room as a hand reaches from behind you grabbing your wrist that holds the saber you look to your side seeing a human man wearing grey Mandalorian armor with blue accents his head is shaved and his eyes a storm blue, another hand grabs your other wrist and you see a man feeling his presence in the force his black robes with red skin and black markings, his head covered in spikes and his eyes a mixture of red and yellow.

“Blood for the Mand’alor.” The Mandalorian says his hand guiding the weapon to your other hand. “Blood for the Jedi.” The red-skinned man hisses. You feel numb as the Darksaber slices across your palm feeling a muffled heat before the blade is pulled back and palm pours from your palm. The force-sensitive man holds your wrist out as the blood pours into the water a ripple of red mixing with the murky water. Your grasp on the Darksaber disappears as the men’s grasp leaves you and the weapon clatters to the ground.

“I swear on my name. And the names of the Ancestors..” The voices echo and you repeat the words as you draw deeper into the water at your hip

Ad be Kryze…kemir te ara be Manda'yaim

“That I shall walk the way of the Mand’alor… and the words of the Creed shall be forever forged in my heart.” The chorus of voices some familiar you pick but they speak in harmony as you repeat what they whisper to you.

t'adyc ad be jetiise Kenobi. t'adyc ad be Mando Kryze.

“Ibic cuyir te ara” You call out the water reaching your chest, “This is the Way.” The chorus echoes as you feel that presence in the water grows stronger.

Mand'alor be cuun adate

“It ends here Mand’alor.” “Kid!” Moff Gideon’s and Din’s voice fills your head the haze that covered you clears right as you walk off the shallow shelf and Bo-Katan and Din see you abruptly disappear in the water.

Tal kelir galar par gar

Both Din and Bo-Katan dive into the water without hesitation using their jetpacks to speed up the quickly sinking girl. Their lights look around frantically for the girl before Din notices the seemingly lifeless body of his daughter resting at the bottom of the trench. Swimming down wrapping an arm under her armpits quickly using his jetpack to assist him to get to the surface with Bo-Katan following behind as cover. Din is so focused on getting his daughter to safety as Bo-Katan watches out into the dark water when they suddenly pass a giant reptilian creature with white horns. Bo-Katan’s eyes widen when her light hits the creature seeing its eye open and staring back at the woman. A creature only told in myths said to be long dead but the symbol of its people. The mines according to folklore said to be the lair of this creature. She lets out a gasp as they speed away as she watches the large creature swim off into the darkness. The three reach the surface crashing onto the steps as Bo-Katan gasp for air while Din who also struggles to catch his breath hovers over the young girl trying to get her to wake up. Sudden coughs fill the air water expelling out of her mouth as she wheezes trying to get air back in her lungs but she was alive.

The small clan of three comforts each other from the event as the female Mandalorian stares out into the waters taking great, heaving breaths. She wasn’t sure what she saw down there or if she even saw something down there at all. They were meant to be extinct the last one seen during the age of the first Mandalore…then why did she see a mythosaur in those waters.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian #clan of three #clan of three series #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x teen!reader #din djarin x jedi!reader #din x reader #din djarin x y/n #mando x reader

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happysaddca · 1 month

Text

I'm gonna pretend this isn't as good cause I am feeling off today and not because I crammed like four different ideas into two scenes here and didn't flesh anything out as much as I would like normally.

There is some very, very mild suggestive flirting that goes nowhere.

I think I've got things worked out for Constellations Redeux now so drabbles like this will slow down in favor or working out other AUs/the actual story. But I'm still gonna need a beta reader :')

Oh, and your nickname from Sun is introduced here, so we're 3/4 on DCA nicknames. I'm not sure if it's noticeable, but I personally struggle if a fic overuses nicknames or explicitly says y/n or reader. So I avoid that as much as possible lol.

You barely make it three days before start worrying that Sun is angry with you. Moon’s reassurances can only work so long, especially since you have to work and sleep and sometimes even go home so your roommate knows you’ve not died and been turned into pizza. And with Sun and Moon back, your usual coping mechanisms only go so far. Still, you’re able to keep the seed from taking root for nearly two weeks.

“How are they adjusting to being online again?” You’d been sent to fetch more flour from the main kitchen, where Anika is currently fussing with the pizza ovens. You’re avoiding going back upstairs, sneaking pepperoni slices every time her back is turned.

“Okay as can be expected. Moon is still fronting every time I see them, even when it’s bright out.” Your mouth twitches and you rub at it absently, massaging the scars out of habit. “They haven’t Eclipsed at all since the restart, and Moon is mostly avoiding people. I think he’s nervous.” You pop a pepperoni in your mouth as Anika turns around.

“Dude, don’t eat the product!” She rolls her eyes at you, going to wash her hands. “Between you and the other gremlins I work with, it’s amazing we have any food at all.”

“You love us,” you say sing-song, but you pull away from the food, trailing after Anika. She turns and flicks you with water for your trouble. “Hey! You know I’m a witch. I’m gonna melt now and what are you gonna tell the Attendants?”

“That I defeated the evil that eats all my pepperoni.” Another flick of water, and you give an overdramatic hiss, moving to hide behind Anika instead.

“Cruelty, abuse, harassment. I should call HR on you now.”

“Nah, I’ve got too much blackmail on you.” She shakes her hands dry and turns to lean against the sink and look you over. “You look less like a witch and more like a ghost. When’s the last time you’ve gone outside?”

“A couple days ago?” You are used to being stared at, but Anika has this uncanny way of making you feel like she’s not just looking, she’s peeling back the layers, clothes from skin, skin from fat, fat from muscle. Looking for something, something you decidedly don’t have. “I’ve been using the employee showers. Shockingly okay if you give them a good scrub first.”

Her nose wrinkles anyway. “You know you have to go outside at some point. Your Sun and Moon won’t like you neglecting yourself for their sake. Neither will our Attendant for that matter.”

“I haven’t even seen Sunny lately,” you complain, and a muscle twitches in your cheek. “I haven’t seen either Sun. What if they’re both—”

“Stop.” You open your mouth, but Anika holds her hand up. “Stop. I know this mental trainwreck far too well. Stop whatever oh they actually hate me mind game you’re playing and go talk to them.”

“But the daycare is still open,” you protest weakly. Anika gives you a look. “I have to work?”

“Then why are you down here eating all my pepperoni?”

“Because you’re my friend and I was supposed to be getting flour,” you say slowly. “And friends let you avoid work to talk about relationship stuff?”

Anika rolls her eyes, walking around you and grabbing the massive bag of flour, shoving it in your arms with a grunt. “As your friend, I’m telling you not to let this fester. Talk to your Moon and Sun, and go see Sunny after work. And tomorrow, get the fuck out of this building. Sleep in an actual bed for eight hours and get some vitamin D.”

You nod slowly, resisting the urge to pout, physically biting it back. “Okay. I will.” You pause before nodding again. “I will. Thank you Anika.”

“You’re welcome. Now shoo. I have to test the oven and if it blows up I’d like to limit the casualties.”

You do return to work, but it’s hard to concentrate when you want to skip the rest of your shift and find Moon. You text them, a quick reminder when you’re off, and proceed to overbeat your icing. You have to dump the ruined buttercream, starting over. It’s only a couple hours, but your attention is splintering fast, and by the time you can clock out, you’re itching to go.

“See you Alex! Sorry about dropping the fondant!” You get some mumble for a reply that’s completely missed as you open the back door and step out, directly into a hard exoskeleton and metal arms that catch you and wrap you in a hug. “Oh!”

“Hello to you as well. Where are you going in such a hurry?” Moon sounds amused even as it pulls you out of sight. “Did you have an appointment to get to?”

“I wanted to see you.” The unpleasant twinge in your stomach isn’t from getting dragged along. You reach up to flick the bell on Moon’s nightcap. “And Sun too, if they’re…”

“She’s still resting.” Moon’s tone is apologetic even as you both stop near the back wall, out of sight of any but the nosiest of plex patrons. It cups your scarred cheek, leaning down for a kiss. “Starlight, you’re crying again.” A finger curls under your eye, catching a tear.

“Sorry. I don’t mean to.” You try to wipe your eyes clear, but it just happens again as you chew on the inside of your cheek. “Can’t Sun come out, for just a little? I’ve not seen her since you were eclipsed. I know she’s there; the diagnostics are all fine and you wouldn’t lie b-but…” Shoot, now you were really starting to cry, and you tried to hide it, ducking your chin and covering your face with your hands. Moon’s fans have started alongside a click click clicking noise as it holds its hands out, servos popping. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Moon. I know it’s been a lot for you two, but I miss… I miss both of you.”

“Star,” Moon’s voice peters out as you can’t seem to slow your tears, or your words.

“I’ve not seen Sunny from the daycare either, and I know it’s because I’ve been spending so much time with you — and that’s not complaining! If I didn’t have to work, I’d always be with you. But it feels like both Suns are avoiding me now and I get it’s dumb but… does Sun hate me?”

Moon’s hands settle on your shoulders featherlight, pulling you into a hug. “It’s going to be okay,” it says, and a shiver goes through its frame. You pull back in time to nearly get poked in your good eye with one of Sun’s rays. You stare blankly, voice gone as Sun straightens, one hand checking everything was in place before turning that blank, unmoving smile on you.

“Sun?” you say in a small voice, and she nods, something clicking inside her headcase. You’re immediately reaching out, ignoring the sharp edges of the rays, feeling for any irregularities you’d missed before with Moon. “What’s wrong? Can’t you speak?”

“I’ve missed you.” She speaks so softly you nearly miss it. “I’m sorry Sunflower. I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you.”

“Sun!” You hold her tightly, her rays digging into your arms before she can retract them. Their hands flutter over you before settling lightly on your back, barely touching you. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t. But we’ve been so worried about you.” You squeeze her more tightly to make up for the lack of a hug on Sun’s end. “Let me look at you. I want to see…”

You pull back, hands sliding down Sun’s arms, curling into their sleeves just above their wrists. Sun watches you, but she holds still, rays remaining half retracted, an impression left from you. You have to wipe at your eyes again, realizing you’re still freely crying. “It looks like you took over easily enough. We don’t have the fiber optics in your clothes hooked up yet but—”

“Flower,” Sun says softly, and you quiet down, blinking hard. Sun’s hands shift, longer fingers tracing patterns on your inner forearms. “How can you tell anything when we look like this?”

“Huh?” The confusion snaps you out of the lingering fog of upset. “Sun, it’s still you.” You reach forward, noticing Sun’s flinch before she holds still, letting you press your hand against one of the stuck rays. It pops out, nearly cutting your hand. “I know this isn’t ideal but… it’s. It’s still you in there.” You repeat the process twice more, until Sun is able to test them, ticking them in and out in a wave without them getting stuck. “We should oil those so when you come out they won’t get stuck like that.”

“Flower.”

You attempt a smile, playing with one of Sun’s rays, making it spring back and forth until Sun withdraws it completely. “I told you, your rays have always been your giveaway. We got to take care of them so they can keep giving you away.” Your giggle is a little manic, but a big hand covers your mouth and part of your jaw. You stare at Sun blankly, biting the inside of your cheek again.

“How are you sure it’s us?” Sun asks again, her voice soft, nearly devoid of emotion. Her rays are half withdrawn, and you can tell they’re avoiding looking at your face. At least until you lick her palm. She jerks back in shock, staring at their hand, then you. “Sunflower, why! You don’t know what Moon’s been up to or the last time we washed our hands. You’ll get sick!”

You smile and this time your laugh is far more genuine. You wipe at your mouth. “I’ll brush my teeth in a minute. How am I supposed to answer your questions when you won’t let me speak?”

The rays pull back further in her head, and Sun looks away, wiping their palm clean on their pants. Your smile fades, and you lean forward, touching their knee.

“I was worried we might’ve picked up the wrong chips,” you admit softly, scooting forward, wanting to touch as much of Sun as possible. “Anika had grabbed a bunch of different parts for Gemma to scan, but we were scared of waking you too early and giving you false hope. So there was this chance that something could go wrong. Gemma knew the spare body was safe enough but it wasn’t until you both came online that I really knew it was you and Moon. My Sun and Moon.”

“But how? Other than our software, none of this is us.” Sun gestures vaguely at herself. “The clothes are close now, but we’re smaller, our faceplate is wrong and empty, our programming doesn’t map properly across these new actuators and servos.”

“It feels bad, doesn’t it?” You aren’t able to properly smile, but you try anyway, lifting Sun’s faceplate to meet her eyes. This close, you can see the barest amount of light denoting where she’s looking. It’s not at you, but it’s close enough. “I’ve gone through the same thing. After the accident,” you ignore her flinch, “I had so many surgeries. Some of this skin on my face is from my thigh, you know. And some isn’t even from me.” You reluctantly touch the worst of your scars, the one that cuts over your eye. “I have metal pins in my arms and legs. Even my brain got damaged. I still don’t really know all the changes to my personality yet — hey, don’t look like that. This isn’t your or Moon’s fault.” You grab her face with both of your hands, squeezing it tightly, shaking her very gently. “Neither of you are allowed to blame yourself, okay? I’ll come in there if you do.”

There’s a bubble of laughter from Sun, a hand catching and holding yours while her rays slowly extend. “And how will you manage that Flower?”

The laughter is infectious, and you giggle despite yourself. “I know you’ve not been fronting much, but I’ve made friends with some super smart people. We’ll upload my brain on the mainframe and inject it into your headspace so I can give you and Moon a proper chewing out. So unless you want to be stuck with me for all of eternity, you’ll get the idea this is your fault out of your mind.”

“How horrible would be to be trapped with you for all of eternity.” She pulls your hand over to her mouth, teeth pressing lightly against your palm. When you curl your fingers, tracing the length of their nose, her rays tick back and forth once again, fans whirring deep in her chest.

“A nightmare even Moon won’t be able to save you from.” You take advantage of the moment, moving to crawl into Sun’s lap, back against her chest. If you lean back, you can watch her rays shift back and forth. Her arms settle slowly around you, still barely holding you. You have to tighten her arms around you yourself. “I know it’s a lot right now Sun, but Gemma is going to help make it easier. New pieces for your exoskeleton, better silicone. She’s currently working with another technician to recreate your old face. Anika’s other scavenged pieces are helping create some new code so you will control this endoskeleton more easily. It’ll be new, and it won’t quite be the same as before, but you’ll be in control of your body again. You’ll look like you again.”

“You’re saying we will be like you? But there won’t be scars.” You shiver as Sun pulls her hands from yours, touching over your arm, pushing your sleeve out of the way. “We’ll look like our old selves.”

“You can ask if you want to see,” you say, pulling Sun’s hand free. “Between the two of you I’m not sure if you’re trying to satisfy some morbid curiosity or get into my clothes.”

“Sunflower.” She sounds scandalized, but there’s no true attempt at denial.

“Besides, I think there will be scars. Maybe not as visible as mine, but… this isn’t easy.”

“No.” It comes out like a sigh, and for the first time Sun hugs you tightly. “I don’t like feeling so lost Flower. We’ve lost everything.”

She’s not entirely wrong. Her daycare, her body, the children she’d basically helped raise. They were all gone.

“But you have Moon again.”

Quiet except for the sounds of Sun working away inside, the pitch of her insides indicating a second opinion from Moon itself. “I do,” she finally says, her face dipping into your hair. “And we have you.”

“And you have me,” you agree. You sigh, the sound dragging out all the tension from your shoulders and back. You ragdoll against Sun, and they hold you tightly, concerned until you give a smile. “We’ll figure it out. I promise Sun.”

Sun is quiet, and when you look up, her rays are withdrawn again. They look away when they catch you staring, hands dropping away.

“Sun,” you try again. “It’s all right if you don’t feel better.”

“You can read me, even like this.” Sun’s chuckle is sad. “I don’t hate you. But I hate this. I hate being this.” Her hand lifts and drops again. “Moon is handling it a little better. That’s why it has been center stage.”

“I understand,” you say. There’s a pang of pain deep in your heart and you gather her arms around you again. “If Moon is comfortable being in control, then… then I understand. But please don’t hide away all the time. I know, I know you don’t hate me but it can still be hard. Is that too much to ask for?”

You can hear and feel Sun shift, rays extending as her neck cricks to one side, thinking. “I think it’s all right,” they say finally. “I think Moon will appreciate the break too.”

“Have you two been all right?” you ask, leaning your head back once again to watch Sun’s rays. She nods and then gives a little, uncertain shrug.

“We have been talking. It’s so good for Moon to be itself again, but there’s still pain. And distance.” Sun’s voice flattens and cuts off before the end of their sentence, making her rays pop in and out in surprise. “Oh. That’s new.”

“I think Moon disagrees with you.” You move slowly, pushing Sun’s legs wide so you can kneel between them and open your arms. Sun stares, rays still clicking in and out as a circle. “Come here.”

“I’ll stab you with my rays. They aren’t flexible like my old ones.”

“Don’t care.” You wiggle your fingers at her. “Come here.” Sun does eventually move into your arms, rays withdrawing so you can rest your chin on top of her faceplate. You squeeze her tightly again as her arms wind around your middle carefully. “You’re not going to break me,” you promise. “Everything’s all healed up now, even the brain stuff.”

“You’re not as funny as you think you are.” Sun’s voice is muffled in your shoulder.

“I’m hilarious. I learned from the best after all.” There’s a little giggle. “I’ve been working on my gymnastics too,” you add. “I can almost do a back flip.”

“Oh really?” She sounds bemused. “You’ll have to show us sometime.”

“You’ll need to hold my legs.” That got a proper snort, Moon and Sun overlapping.

“I love you Sun,” you say softly. Sun’s arms slide further up, gripping the back of your shirt. “I’ll miss you. You should try texting me back sometime. Just to say how you’re doing.” Her grip tightens. “And I’ll try to say sooner if my thoughts start spiraling out of control again.”

“Okay.”

“Mm?”

Sun straightens, and you have to lean away to avoid knocking against her head. “I’ll text. If you promise to take care of yourself.”

Ah. You feel your face go hot and it’s your turn to look away. “I’m fine, really! I just sort of spiraled with that one thought and we’re working on it now!”

“You’re pale and you haven’t been sleeping well.” Sun’s fingers trap your chin and force you to look up. “Have you eaten any fruit or vegetables recently?” You grimace, and their thumb taps over your lips. “Have you been outside the pizzaplex at all this past week?”

“You’re a bully,” you complain, unable to escape. “I wanted to stay with you and Moon.”

Sun’s hand slips from your chin to your apron pocket. You make a very undignified sound until she fishes out your phone, holding it up. “You will be with us. In our own head, in a way.”

“Right.” Your lockscreen is an old picture of you and Sun, clearly taken by the animatronic. You take your phone back, holding it to your chest. “You won’t be able to escape me so long as I have this.”

“How terrible,” Sun’s smile is in his voice.

“The worst,” you agree.

#fnaf daycare au #fnaf daycare attendant #daycare attendant #daycare attendant moon #daycare attendant sun #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #daycare attendant fandom #fnaf dca #sundrop #moondrop #seriously how many tags are there in the world that focus on the dca #constellations au #dca ocs #my writing #I'll be backtagging my writing soon

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jankwritten · 10 months

Text

JASICO WEEK DAY 3: Angst/Comfort

CW: major character death, grief

Nico runs his brush over the lettering on the face of the headstone, delicate despite the dirt worked into the cracks. He should be harder with it, he knows - it’s not like he’ll be able to break it. The headstone is too new for that, not worn down with age like the others in the cemetery. The dirt around the grave is so fresh, weeds haven’t even begun to grow over it, not that Nico would let them. He’s gotten good at weeding. Pruning flowers. Anything, to take care of this spot.

Jason Grace, the headstone reads. Beneath that, his rank, and years of service. The date he died.

Nico brushes his thumb over the curves which mark Jason as seventeen on his day of death. One of the eldest in the graveyard.

Back when he first heard, when Nico first felt the impact of Jason’s death like a saw blade through his gut, Nico couldn’t come visit the grave at all. Every reminder of Jason being gone was too much, the weight of loss sitting in him in a way Nico hadn’t felt since he was ten years old. He didn’t know what to do with himself, with his grief, except to cry, and cry, and cry.

He’s glad to be past that stage. His heart still aches, every day is still hard, but Nico can breathe through it, now. He can clean the gravestone, and talk to Jason even if Jason doesn’t talk back. He can make sure this site is as respected as the man it honors.

Nico adjusts the flowers Hazel brought last night, a bouquet of blue and purple and white. Jason would think they’re pretty. The smell would make him sneeze.

His favorite color was yellow, though. Nobody ever brings Jason yellow flowers. Always blue, like his eyes, like the sky, like his father.

Daffodils. Nico will have to bring him some daffodils tomorrow. And irises, and carnations. Maybe Persephone will help him put together a bouquet. She always had a soft spot for Jason, not that she’d ever admit to liking one of Nico’s friends. Whenever Nico would talk about Jason with her, she would listen with this look on her face, like Nico was saying the most interesting things. It felt good to know someone appreciated Jason in the same way Nico did.

Maybe not the same way. But as close as someone else could get.

“It’s been a good day today,” Nico says. He runs the brush over the crown of the stone again, gentle as before. “Things have been slow. Father hasn’t given me as many jobs this week, and there’s finally been a lull in attacks near the borders. Hazel and Frank are introducing a new bill to the senate tomorrow, which…well, I’ll tell you how it goes, then. I don’t want to jinx it for them.”

A breeze blows through the valley. Nico leans back, tilts his chin up into it.

He closes his eyes. He can almost imagine the wind in his hair is Jason’s hand, ruffling in a way nobody else has ever been brave enough. Easily affectionate, despite all the ways Nico threatened him, kept him at a distance. Jason was just like that, always eager to be there, to hold, to comfort.

Gods, Nico wishes he could’ve accepted one more hug. Had one more conversation.

It’s starting to rain. The temperature drops and the sky darkens and Nico can smell it, the dampness in the air. The first drops splatter across his cheeks and his nose, his lips. He doesn’t flinch. He’s used to sitting out in storms, now.

“I love you,” he tells the sky.

In return, the rain pelts harder, quickly turning from a drizzle to an outright downpour, soaking Nico’s hair to the root in seconds. His clothes stick to his skin.

He still doesn’t move.

“Don’t cry with me.” It’s silly, to act like the rain is Jason’s doing. Still. It helps Nico cope. Sometimes, if he imagines hard enough, he can still see memories of Jason’s grin, that scar on his lip, the tilt of his nose while the skies opened up around them, a display of power, a force of nature.

Nico never saw Jason cry. He supposes Jason never saw him cry, either. Just another thing they’ll never get to share. Another thing they missed. “You’re going to drown your flowers, at this rate.”

The deluge does not die down.

It’s enough to almost make him laugh, the sudden mental image of Jason scowling down at the flowers he doesn’t really like at all, the ones that make him sneeze and itch. Jason Grace, mighty son of Jupiter, champion of Hera, using all of his power to destroy a few flowers that have wronged him.

Nico didn’t get to know that side of Jason very long, the side of him that was a young boy, the side of him who was a person. But gods, of everything they did get together, that is what he’s happiest to have had. The truth. Not the son of Jupiter, not the champion, not the praetor. Just the boy.

Nico smiles, even as he cries, leaning back in a graveyard during a near-biblical rain storm. Nico smiles.

Every day, it gets a little easier to. Every day, he hopes Jason is smiling back, from wherever he is.

#jasicoweek2023 #day3 #tw major character death #tw grief #tw this shit sad #jason grace #nico di angelo #jasico #i'd say sorry for this but I'm not #It's supposed to be comforting but I don't know if that part comes across LMFAO #i was going to have this end with Nico going home and Jason is actually still alive and the grave is just there as a reminder #but then i decided that was cheap and a cop out and sometimes you just have to write something that's sad #i'm guilty of always trying to Fix Things in my fics and make them Better #instead of letting the characters learn to deal with their situation #so here is my first foray into 'this situation fucking sucks but i'm making the best of it because it's what he would have wanted'

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older-men-are-sexy-okay · 10 months

Text

Soft Spot

CH 5

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: You have just graduated with your Bachelor’s degree and decide to stay at home with your dad to save some money before graduate school. The thing is, he is moving from California to Texas to live next to his best friend/college roommate, Joel, along with his daughter, Sarah. Growing up, you heard so much about him from your dad. It’s almost like you know Joel, but you don’t. You’ve never actually met him. This Summer will be interesting…

Warnings/Tags: Dbf! Joel, slow burn, eventual smut, kinda mean Joel, explicit language, references to death, struggles with depression, reader is younger than Joel (22/43), lowkey creepy Joel?

Note: Yay, we get soft Joel for like 30 seconds!!

Past Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

CHAPTER 5

You don’t see Joel for two weeks after that. Not that you have been actively avoiding him or anything, but both your dad and Joel have been working like dogs so they haven’t planned a get together. Sarah is over most days though, just to hangout while she’s out of school for the summer. You’re not technically ‘babysitting’ her, you were never asked to, more so just spending time together. She keeps saying she is too old for a babysitter. You don’t think she is too old for one, but she is very mature for her age. I guess that’s why Joel lets her be in the house alone while he’s at work. It’s one day in the middle of June when it hits you. You were binge watching ‘Degrassi’ with Sarah at your house when you started to feel a knot in your stomach. You know this feeling all too well, but it hasn’t paid you a visit in a long while. When you were a teenager you began struggling with depression. It started to get better a couple years ago, but it still hits you sometimes. You think about why you’re feeling this way, if there is a reason. Then, you remember the date: June 17th. You knew there was something off about today, it’s the day your mother passed away 19 years ago. Gosh, that seems so long ago. It hurts even more not knowing entirely what you’re missing, you were only 3 when she passed.

You turn toward Sarah, “Hey, Bear, I’m not feeling too good. You think we can postpone this to another day?”

“Sure. Are you okay?” She asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a stomach bug.”

“Okay, feel better!”

Sarah gets up to go back home. Right after she leaves you turn the tv off and go upstairs. There’s a hole in your chest today, and you feel the need to desperately fill it. You take a shoe box out from under your bed that has mementos of her. You open to find her old hair tie, a few photos of you and her together, and her old necklace. Not much, but it’s the best you could do considering you were a toddler when she died. It was sudden, her death. A car accident on her way home from work. Your dad told you that you were at daycare, she was supposed to pick you up on her way home. You wished you had known that morning that you would never see her again, you would’ve given her a million hugs and kisses and said goodbye. You take out the pictures and lay on your bed. You look at them for a minute before holding them to your chest and beginning to cry.

You’re not sure how long you stayed in bed, crying, trying desperately to remember her. But it felt like forever. ‘I wish my dad were here’, you think. He always knows how to make you feel better. But he’s at work and you don’t know when he’ll get back. You pick up your phone and dial his number. The phone rings.

“Hello?” Your dad answers.

“Hey, dad. I’m, uh, I’m having a really hard time today.” You say sniffling through the phone.

“I know, hun. Me too. I miss her.”

You don’t even have to say why you’re having a hard time, he knows what today is. Maybe he didn’t mention it hoping you wouldn’t notice.

“When will you be home?” You ask.

“I don’t know, maybe around 8. I’m trying to get out of here as quickly as possible.”

You and your dad would always spend this day together every year, I guess with his new job he wasn’t able to get the day off.

“Okay.” You say softly.

“It’s okay, honey. Take deep breaths, drink water and cuddle with Obie until I get home. Call me again if you need me.”

“I love you, dad.”

“I love you too.”

You both hang up the phone.

You really did try what your dad suggested. The only thing that helped was cuddling with Obie. But he kept getting too hot cuddling and would jump off the bed. You cry yourself to sleep at some point and dream of her. You love your dreams, they always seem so vivid and real. You see your mom standing in front of you smiling. She reaches her hand to your face and touches your cheek, it’s almost like she’s actually touching you.

You jolt awake and realize that you actually do feel something on your cheek. You turn your head to see Joel a few inches away from you sitting on the edge of your bed, taking away his hand. He must’ve swiped away a tear with one of his thumbs while you were sleeping. You look around, it’s dark except for the dim light in your room. You have no idea what time it is.

“Joel? Why are you here?” You sit up in your bed.

“Your dad asked me to check on you, he’s stuck at work for about another hour.” He responds in a low voice. You’ve never heard him speak so softly.

You look around puzzled, “How did you get in?”

“He told me where the hide-a-key was.”

“Oh.” You respond. As you’re both just sitting on the bed, silence fills your ears. You’re not sure what to say. You’re not sure if he wants you to say anything.

He looks down at the pictures next to you on your bed, the pictures of your mom and you as a baby. He looks back up at you and pauses.

“I knew her, you know.” He says.

“Really?” You ask intently. Your dad must have told him what today was.

“Yeah, I met her when your dad and I were still in college. Your dad called me up one day and told me that I just have to meet this girl he’s been seeing. He told me he was going to marry her someday. I met her that night and, gosh, they were so in love. I knew after that he was going to. Marry her, I mean.” He kept his voice soft and comforting. You’ve never seen this side of Joel before.

“What was she like?” You ask, wanting to know more about her personality.

“Very outgoing, happy, and was super funny. She could even make me laugh.” He says smiling.

You chuckle at his description of her. A tear starts to roll down your cheek, you wish you had gotten to see her like this.

“Everyone liked her, no matter what.” He continues.

He pauses. “You two are similar in that way.”

You scoff. “Trust me, not everyone likes me. Not even you.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.

“You hate me. It’s obvious.”

“I could never hate you.”

You both sit and look at each other for a second. You’re a bit confused, how he could act a certain way toward you then say this. It’s like he forgot to put on his protective mask or something.

You hesitate. “Can I ask you a question?”

He nods his head. “Sure.”

You hesitate again. “The, uh… picture of me…. in your wallet. Why do you have it?”

You hope to god you don’t regret asking this question. This could get very awkward.

“What picture?” He asks.

“The one in the back of your wallet, me on my graduation day.” You quickly clarify, “I wasn’t snooping, well maybe a bit… but Sarah asked me to get your bank card so we could order a pizza.”

He looks down at the floor for a moment before turning back to you.

“Your, uh, dad sent me it in the mail. He said he was so proud of you. I don’t know, you just looked so…” he looks to the side of you, trying to find the words.

“Beautiful, happy. I knew I wanted it to be with me wherever I go.” He meets your gaze.

“Do you… ever look at it?” You ask.

“Only when I’m having a bad day. Which seems to be a lot.” He answers half-smiling.

You sit there, hands in your lap, trying to process the words coming out of his mouth. Then you realize that he just called you beautiful, you didn’t even acknowledge it.

“Wait… you think I’m beautiful?” You ask looking back up at him.

“If I didn’t, I’d be an idiot.”

You decide, without giving it much thought, that you’re going to try to kiss him. You lean in slowly. When he notices you leaning in, he leans in response to meet your lips. It’s just a peck, at first. A small kiss. You attempt to pull away, as you’re getting no indication that he is enjoying this. When you’re about an inch from his face and he notices you pulling away, he puts his hand up to hold the side of your neck and pulls you back. It is then that he swipes your bottom lip with his tongue, as if to ask for permission. You allow him entrance and he explores your mouth with his tongue. It’s a gentle kiss at first, but then hunger starts to grow. He goes even deeper in your mouth, and bits your lip softly. You whimper quietly in his mouth in response. You want more. And you want it now. As he’s still kissing you, you reach your hand to place it on his knee. When he does not protest and continues exploring your mouth, you slowly move your hand higher and higher up his thigh. Right when you get to the bulge in his jeans, he pulls his mouth away abruptly.

“I have to go.” He says breathing heavily.

“What, why?” You pull your hand away.

He doesn’t answer, he just stands up and begins walking to your bedroom door.

“Joel!” You call out his name. He again does not answer and he slams the door behind him. You then hear him close the front door.

You sit there, confused and wanting more.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #dbf! joel #the last of us #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal

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