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jessamine-rose · 4 months

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⋆˚♱ଘ Red Sky at Night, Shepherd’s Delight ଓ♱˚⋆

*slides in with more Church AU ideas* May I interest y’all in Priest! Arlecchino x Devotee! Darling?? Do enjoy this sweet story ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

Tw:: yandere, manipulation, psychological trauma, stalking, blood, violence, death, religious abuse, self-flagellation, harassment, MDNI, pls take note of these warnings

Note:: FICTIONAL depictions of religion

♡ 3.7k words under the cut ♡

♡ As with most nations, the Church is the highest authority in Fontaine. This is especially true for the Court of Fontaine, a city that boasts a strong faith in God. However, it is this same faith which has been corrupted by the Church to spin a web of lies, prejudices, and hypocrisies. Still, there is hope for that city, as provided by its head priest Arlecchino.

♡ Not much can be said about her previous life. In the past, she was known as Peruere, a quiet orphan from the House of the Hearth. Raised by her predecessor Crucabena, Peruere followed in her footsteps and claimed to have felt a calling to priesthood. There was a beauty to it, the idea of a child giving back to the Church by bringing its followers closer to salvation. At least, that is how the public perceived her vocation.

♡ In truth, Peruere’s motivations were different. Shortly after her ordination, Crucabena disappeared under mysterious circumstances and her authority was passed on to Arlecchino. Immediately afterwards, she began to reform the Church and the House of the Hearth. She challenged the Church’s falsehoods, eliminated the other corrupt priests, and preached a more compassionate form of worship.

♡ Despite her efforts, however, scars run deep within the city. The children weren’t the only ones harmed by Crucabena; her influence spanned the entire Court of Fontaine, from religious schools to devout families. In the latter’s case, it can be difficult for Arlecchino to reach out to individuals and correct their beliefs. But some have taken to her like a moth to flame, actively seeking out her enlightenment. One such moth is you.

☾⋆｡ ๋

“Excuse me, Father!”

The Church is silent in the wake of mass. Footsteps and voices echo as believers depart to go on with their daily lives. The children are walking through the exit connected to the House of the Hearth, their solemn demeanors giving way to laughter. Only two people remain.

As always, you linger behind Arlecchino, head bowed.

“Ah, ______.” She turns around to face you. “Is something the matter?”

You look the same—shy expression, modest clothing, rosary in hand.

In a quiet voice, you tell her, “I am in need of your guidance. Yesterday, I…can we discuss this in your office? I’ll try to keep it short this time.”

“Ah, of course. Follow me.”

By now, it has become routine for you to approach Arlecchino after weekly mass. She leads you down a hallway and into her private office, her confident gait juxtaposed by your meek footsteps. A few words are whispered to a passing nun—orders to prepare your favorite tea and desserts.

In the meantime, she takes a seat on the sofa and gives you a polite smile.

“Go on. You have my undivided attention.”

☾⋆｡ ๋

♡ If Arlecchino’s trauma led to her disillusionment with the Church, then yours brought you “closer” to God. Technically, there is nothing wrong with your devotion—you pray daily, treat people with compassion, and derive a sense of solace from your religion. The harm lies in your blind faith, your total dependence on Arlecchino’s guidance.

♡ While you’ve accepted Arlecchino’s stance on religion, you still abide by Crucabena’s doctrine when it comes to your own religious life. You abstain from all vices. You repent for actions which barely count as sins. You are in a constant state of shame, guilt, paranoia, confusion. She can only imagine just how traumatic your meetings with Crucabena were.

♡ Still, you make for enjoyable company. It is common for Arlecchino to see you in the House of the Hearth bearing gifts for the children—and she can tell the difference between performances and your genuine acts of charity. When you aren’t confiding in her, you inquire about her hobbies, her favorite things, her life before priesthood. There is something so pitiful, so precious about your trust in her.

♡ Which is why Arlecchino is quick to notice a shift in your attitude. It begins with you sitting in the middle pews during mass, rather than your usual spot in the front row. During communion, you avoid eye contact and accept the wafer from her with trembling hands. There is a decrease in your private meetings. Fortunately, there is no need for her to investigate; rather, you provide the answer on a silver platter.

♡ Confessions are a wellspring of valuable information. Be it a direct admission or small details, such encounters have aided Arlecchino in punishing those who commit evil under the guise of virtue. Neither is it difficult for her to deduce one’s identity through their voice and mannerisms. So when she recognizes you beyond the screen, she wonders why you opted for the confessional rather than your usual face-to-face confessions with her.

☾⋆｡ ๋

“Bless me, father, for I have sinned. My last confession was one week ago.”

That is the first thing you tell her. From the center compartment, Arlecchino can imagine you doing the sign of the cross. The ritualistic gesture lends a short-lived grace to your movements, your hands honed by years of practice.

A pause. “Pardon my insolence but I must know: I am not speaking to Father Arlecchino, am I?”

Oh?

“You are not,” is her swift response, spoken in an altered voice. “And why do you ask? Does your confession concern the head priest?”

What secrets could you possibly be hiding from her?

She hears a hitched breath. “No! I just don’t want her to know. So please, what I’m about to tell you…don’t breathe a word of it to anyone else.”

“But of course. And what do you have to confess, my child?”

There is the sound of beads clicking together—your rosary, an old violet-and-black set designed by Crucabena. Arlecchino owned an identical one up until her death.

“These past years,” you whisper, “I have been consumed with carnal desires.”

She sits up straighter. “Desires?”

“It’s complicated,” you mutter. “There’s this person I’ve known for years, and I’ve always looked up to them as a fellow believer. Yet over time, I’ve been plagued with…impure thoughts of them. They captivate me. Their attention brings me joy and anxiety in equal parts. They haunt my thoughts in debauched fantasies. Yet we aren’t even married, much less lovers.”

Who are they?

A spider has taken up residence in a corner of the ceiling. It sits in the center of a silvery web, waiting for its prey.

She clears her throat. “And what is the matter with that? It is true that many view lust as a sin. But carnal desires are natural and not evil as to warrant eternal damnation.”

Silence. Most likely, you are mulling over what she just said; discernment isn’t your strong suit.

It’s just like you to fret over an ordinary crush. But who is this person that ensnared your heart? Do they know you as well as her?

Arlecchino continues speaking. “Moreover, no human is immune to temptation. From what you told me, it is clear that you have made active efforts to suppress your lust. So is it not possible for you to resist this so-called temptation, if not distance yourself from the object of your desire?”

“But how can I resist temptation when its very source lies in the Church?!”

Even Arlecchino is caught off-guard by your outburst. It is followed by your horrified gasp.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

Your next words are spoken in an even softer voice. “It’s Father Arlecchino. She is the one I desire.”

A fly buzzes through the latticed screen of the confessional. It briefly hovers around Arlecchino before she swats it away.

“Ah, now I understand.”

“She hasn’t done anything to me!” you add quickly. “I swear, it’s purely one-sided. And that is what distresses me most of all. She is a woman of God, dedicated to the salvation of His flock, yet here I am making a mockery of her righteousness.”

“And what do you see in her?”

“Where do I even begin? She’s kind. I know there are people who speak ill of her, claiming she preaches falsehoods, but I’ve witnessed her compassion with my own eyes. The orphans love her. The Church is warmer, more welcoming under her authority. And…”

The fly has taken a liking to the spiderweb. Spying its prospective prey, the spider begins its crawl towards the edge of the web.

You take a deep breath. “She knows of my religious struggles yet has never given me reason to fear her judgment. She is the one who helped me discern my vocation. She is the one who put a stop to my self-flagellation, even though that penance was assigned by Mother Crucabena. She is the one who has reassured me, time and time again, that I am worthy of God’s love. She…”

That is when you burst into tears.

For the next few minutes, the only sounds in the confessional are your choked sobs and rosary beads. Arlecchino herself remains silent but her thoughts are just as discordant.

Her gaze drifts to her necklace. It is a far cry from Crucabena’s rosary, a long chain from which hangs a silver cross adorned with ornate engravings and crimson jewels. When she presses down on a specific jewel, the pendant separates to reveal a hidden blade.

How long has it been since she struck Crucabena with that false symbol?

“I’ve tried so hard to be good,” you continue between sobs. “All my life, I’ve done my best to resist temptation and abide by the Church’s teachings. So why…? What I feel for Father Arlecchino—it’s disgusting, it’s not normal, it cannot be called love. But I…”

Your voice trails off. In her mind’s eye, Arlecchino sees you kneeling with your head bowed and your rosary looped around your clasped hands. If only she could wipe your tears.

“And I am truly sorry for all my sins,” you sniffle. “Now please, Father, what is my penance? If you tell me to distance myself from Father Arlecchino, then I will do so at once. If anything, I think she’d prefer it; I’ve wasted enough of her time.”

“Hush, my child,” she says sharply. Then, in a gentler tone, she adds, “Give me time to think.”

The fly is caught in the spider’s web. From her seat, Arlecchino watches as the spider bites down on the struggling insect and wraps it in silk, sealing its unfortunate fate.

Well, this was an unexpected answer, but not an unfortunate one.

In truth, she cares little about her vow of chastity. It is but a minor offense compared to those of her fellow priests. As for your attraction towards her, it doesn’t bother her at all. Her own sentiments require further reflection but for now…

“Why not put your desires to the test?”

There is the sound of beads hitting the floor. “Excuse me?”

In a calm voice, she explains, “There is nothing inherently sinful about falling in love with a priest. Rather, the fault should lie in the priest who cannot commit to their vow of chastity. But that, too, can be put into question—after all, nowhere in the religious texts is it explicitly stated that God demanded celibacy from His shepherds. It is for this reason that other denominations allow their priests to marry and procreate.”

“I see,” you mutter. “Though I doubt our Church would permit that anytime soon.”

“Who knows? As for the matter of your penance…like you said, it is impossible to escape the object of your desire. So why don’t you continue your usual interactions with Father Arlecchino? It will enable you to discern whether what you feel for her is truly lust or love. And should you ever confess your feelings to her, she will be the one to instruct you on what to do.”

“Is that all? Surely, there must be another—”

She cuts you off. “That is the only way. It is my belief that you need only desire something with sufficient intensity and God will answer. Or are you doubting my words as a priest?”

Your fearful “no!” puts an end to your confession. Thus, you recite your prayers and leave the confessional. After a while, Arlecchino makes a stealthy exit.

Just as she expected, you are still praying inside the Church. With your dried tears and tightly clasped hands, you make a perfect image of repentance.

Shaking her head, she walks down the hallway and into her office.

The tea table is empty. That will change tomorrow; she already has the perfect choice of desserts in mind. Cakes, tarts, macarons, all of your favorite treats.

The next day, an invitation is delivered to your doorstep. The envelope bears the official seal of the Church of Fontaine.

☾⋆｡ ๋

♡ Since then, Arlecchino has treated you differently. In the past, her religious counsel took the form of reassurances, open-ended questions, and reminders that only you can discern your own fate. But now she finds herself giving you more specific lessons and instructions. She invites you to more tea parties and private events in the House of the Hearth.

♡ She is also more…physical these days. During mass, she puts the communion wafer in your mouth, a gloved thumb brushing against your lip. On your walks to her office, she places her hand on your back, forcing you to match her pace. At one point, she even pulls you aside and tells you to disrobe so she can see if you are wearing your scapular properly. There is a moment of silence when your scars are exposed, followed by the warm sensation of her fingertips tracing your skin.

♡ However, it doesn’t take long for another issue to arise. One mass, Arlecchino notices that a certain individual has moved to the front pews to sit next to you. This continues for weeks, with him speaking to you before and after the service. You’re clearly uncomfortable around him, and it reaches the point that you mention it to Arlecchino during a tea party.

♡ Quietly, you explain that you are being harassed by one of your coworkers. For weeks, he has been bothering you at work, walking you home from mass, showing no signs of accepting your blatant rejections. Even worse, no one is taking your distress seriously due to his popularity within the Court of Fontaine. Normally, Arlecchino would be quick to eliminate him but she decides on another solution which would kill two birds with one stone.

♡ Her suggestion is that you stay in the Church for a few weeks. It is a convenient arrangement on both sides—the children are already familiar with you; the House of the Hearth has no shortage of rooms; and in the worst-case scenario, it can serve as a trial period for nunhood. In the past, Arlecchino did deem your personality fitting for a life of religious service, though you disagreed on the basis that you weren’t “worthy” of such an important role.

♡ It doesn’t take long for you to adjust. The House of the Hearth is quiet, secure, shielded from outside disturbances. The children are friendly to you, and they all agree that you’d fare well as their caretaker. Best of all, Arlecchino has more excuses to spend time with you—barbeque parties, walks along the sea, meetings with the other priests and nuns, nightly conversations in your room. It feels like home.

♡ One day, you are fitted into a nun’s habit. It looks perfect on you, with a few embellishments to suit your style preferences. Arlecchino personally helps you into the outfit, fixing the buttons and smoothing out imaginary creases. The final piece is a cross necklace identical to her own; she casually reveals the hidden blade and claims it is a self-defense mechanism. When you cast your gaze upon your shared reflection in the mirror, a flustered smile adorns your face.

♡ Still, you are undecided on your “true” vocation. Eventually, you decide to return to your job and think it over. Arlecchino personally escorts you to your house and insists that you keep your cross necklace, if only to replace your “missing” rosary. Once the front door is shut, she casts a harsh glare upon the figure across the street. Later, her children are assigned to keep watch over you and your stalker.

♡ For the next few days, all is well. Your daily life resumes. Arlecchino keeps a close eye on you through her children’s reports and her own inspections. After mass, the two of you enjoy another tea party, and you make no mention of your stalker. When the news reaches the city of an upcoming celestial phenomenon, you eagerly accept Arlecchino’s invitation for a viewing party.

♡ The crimson moon rises, bathing the world in a blood-red glow. While the children gaze at the moon, Arlecchino waits for you in front of the orphanage. Strange, punctuality is one of your virtues yet you’re late. Just as she is about to leave for your house, Freminet frantically approaches her and leads her to the Church.

♡ Red. It’s all over you, and not from the moonlight. The first thing Arlecchino sees is you curled up on the floor in a state of shock. In the heart of the Church lies a familiar figure—your stalker, writhing on the floor as blood pools from his chest. Lynette stands over him, ensuring that he won’t escape, while Lyney tries and fails to console you.

♡ All three of her children are wearing their crosses. Yours is on the floor, its blade exposed and tainted with blood. Lyney is the one who explains the situation to Arlecchino: They heard a commotion in the Church and by the time they arrived, you had driven your cross into your stalker’s heart. He had attacked you and paid the price.

♡ Calmly, Arlecchino tells Freminet to bring you to the orphanage. Once you are gone, she walks up to your stalker and stomps on his head, piercing his skull with her stiletto. Lyney and Lynette are told to dispose of the body, clean up the church, then return to the party. The crimson moon serves as a silent witness all throughout.

☾⋆｡ ๋

“Father, your face…”

As soon as he sees her, Freminet leaves your room and closes the door behind him.

“Freminet.” Arlecchino wipes the blood off her cheek. “That sinner has been dealt with. You may return to the party.”

“Oh? Okay.” He nods, casting a worried look at your door. As he walks down the hallway, one of his hands comes up to touch his cross pendant.

With that, Arlecchino enters your room.

Even in your change of clothes, your visage is painted crimson by the moonlight. Your body is slumped against the bed, knees on the floor. No sounds leave your lips save for short breaths. Tiny crescents mar your arms—a coping mechanism or an attempt at penance?

Wordlessly, she sits next to you and pats your head with a gloved hand.

“Father.” You are the one to break the silence. “What just…”

“That man is dead.” She says it plainly, her tone void of judgment. “He won’t be able to torment you any longer.”

You immediately look up, eyes glossy. “Are you sure?! Did I…?”

In the blood-red moonlight, your anguish is clear as day. Your hands tremble, nails digging into the mattress, before clasping together in a graceless effort to steel yourself. But the familiar gesture does little to calm you, all prayers futile in the wake of your sin.

“This is it. I’m really going to burn in Hell,” you sob. “I didn’t mean to—what should I do, Father?”

This time, Arlecchino spares no warmth in consoling you. She adjusts your body so that your head rests on her lap, letting your tears drip onto her cassock. Her hand remains on the back of your head, stroking your hair.

“There is no need to fret,” she says gently. “Before the moon sets, the Church will be purged of that man’s filth and it will be as though he never appeared tonight.”

You shake your head. “Even then, you…God knows what I have done.”

“Listen to me.” She tilts your face upwards, her expression firm. “All you did was use your cross necklace for its intended purpose—to save yourself from harm. And yet even in the face of evil, you claim to be the one who sinned. None of this is your fault, ______.”

Her other hand caresses your cheek, wiping away your tears.

“Perhaps it is all part of God’s plan,” she muses. As she speaks, she kneels to your level and holds your hands, intertwining your fingers. “We live in a cruel world and it is only in places such as my Church that safety can be promised. Should you take the veil, no other sinners would dare to violate your virtue.”

Your next words are soft, hesitant, filled with disbelief. “Are you saying that I can still become a nun?! That you…you don’t mind keeping me around?”

“And for what reason would I deny you sanctuary?” she asks, her expression shifting to a frown. “As a priest, it is my duty to shepherd God’s flock. And as a person, it is my desire to protect those I cherish. Everything I do is for your own good.”

For once, you are rendered speechless. All you can do is stare at your lap, at your hands clasped together.

When Arlecchino leans towards you, her grip prevents you from drawing back.

“All you must do is listen to me,” she whispers. “Until our mortal deaths, I will be the one to lead you away from true temptation and deliver you from evil. Does it seem agreeable to you?”

“I…I guess so,” you whimper. Nervously, you meet her gaze, your eyes alight with a glimmer of hope. “If it’s you, I can believe it.”

“Good. And remember this always, ______.”

The crimson moon shines brightly, casting a blood-red halo around your savior. And as Arlecchino pulls you closer, your lips a breath away from a kiss, a secret is divulged with the fervence of a sacred prayer.

“God still loves you. As do I.”

♡

More Church AU here!! Dottore ๑ Capitano ๑ Pantalone

Note:: Please do not send me any Church AU asks/ requests involving other characters or dynamics who are not listed in my masterlist.

…Don’t ask me how many times I broke down over Priest! Arlecchino. Just don’t. To all of the Arle simps out there, I hope I did your wife justice. And may you all suffer from brainrot bc I refuse to be the only one in pain (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

Lastly, lots of love to @diodellet for beta-reading this fic and my mutuals for indulging my brainrot. I hope this was worth the wait <3

Tag an Arlecchino enjoyer!! @navxry @leftdestiny-posts @beloved-blaiddyd @ainescribe @vennnnn-diagram @stickyspeckledlight @harmonysanreads @ddarker-dreams

#arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #yandere arlecchino x reader #yandere arlecchino #yandere genshin #genshin x reader #fatui x reader #yandere fatui harbingers #tw: yandere #tw: dark #tw: blood #tw: violence #tw: death #tw: stalking #tw: abuse #g/n reader #mdni #jessamine-writing

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justkending · 4 months

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Mr. & Mrs. Hunt (Chapter 5/7)

Mini-Series Summary: Two of the most stubborn people in the group partnered together for an undercover mission are also the two people with the most hatred for each other, so what could go wrong? Or is it, what COULDN’T go wrong?…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader (Enemies to Lovers) (Fake Marriage Trope)

A/N: I think we are staying on track for this to wrap up within two more chapters, but again, we are both in the dark if that's the case😂 Thank you guys for the love! If you are wanting to be tagged, please send me an ask. It's a lot easier for me to keep track of who's been added and who hasn't :)

_________

Y/N’s POV:

Okay, so maybe I blew up a little more than necessary, but I tried to chill out before he started chasing me, ordering that I didn’t walk away and talk to him. Let a girl try to get a hold of her emotions for a second big guy.

I’ve been anxious all day, waiting to talk to him about some deep seeded trauma, and then he comes and screws up all of it with a simple exception to an invitation. I know he didn’t mean harm by it, but he’s a trained professional. That was not a trained professional response. Plus, stepping out of my normal routine of being a bitch to him to keep him at a distance wasn’t just a switch I could flip.

Again, I could have handled that better, but now my brain is in mission mode, trying to reprogram what this night has set up for us. Considering the invitation was for tonight, it gave me little to no time to prepare.

“What time did she say dinner was?” I shouted from my bedroom, where I was going through our small, hidden arsenal of gadgets Tony had made for us.

“Six,” Bucky replied from his room down the hall.

Great, that was forty-five minutes from now… “Ok, I can do this.” Deciding it was best to keep some bugs on hand in case we could plant them in the house, and we would be planting them, I needed to consider sizes and placements.

“Should we bring over some wine or something?” Bucky’s voice was now in the doorway to my room, but I kept my back to him as I sifted through our tools.

“I made a pie earlier today. We can take that,” I answered absentmindedly.

“Why’d you make a pie?”

“Felt like it,” I shrugged and walked out of the closet with three small wires/ bugs in hand. When I looked up, I saw he had changed into a nicer button-up and was tightening a tie around his collar he hadn't been wearing earlier. “Why are you wearing a tie?” I examined him.

“Same reason you’re wearing a nicer dress. I want to make a good impression,” he shrugged, straightening pieces of his outfit.

“I’m wearing this because we were going to our ‘anniversary dinner,’” I made sure to put the lie in hand quotes. “I had a story that went with it, but this can pass as casual, too,” I motioned to my dress and moved toward him, placing the wires on the bed. “This looks like you’re about to give a sales pitch.”

Without thinking, I pop his collar up and loosen the tie to get rid of it. The whole time I’m focusing on untying it, I ramble about what the plan is for the night.

“I’m going to give you a wire to put wherever you see fit, and I’ll do the other two. I’ll excuse myself to use the bathroom and sneak it where it’s needed. I feel it’s important we look for cameras already in the house in case it’s a setup. We don’t need them having hard proof that we bugged their place. We want to come off as simple yet good assets if we want them to bring us on board for their work,” I struggle with a certain spot on the tie he somehow fixed in an efficient way I’d never seen. “Jesus, were you a sailor in another life? Might as well have knotted it.”

He doesn’t respond, but I get it off in the next two seconds and look at him to see he had been studying me intently as I invaded his space. I see my slip-up, push the tie into his chest, and take a step back.

“Sorry.”

“No problem,” he answers rather calmly, and I look at his eyes, seeing patience there. Always that damn patience. How did he still have it with me even with how I’ve treated him? “Listen-”

“About last night,” I say at the same time, and he seems shocked but gives a single nod to tell me to continue. “I want to say I’m sorry for being all over the place recently. From last night to thirty minutes ago.”

He seems frozen by my apology, and I became anxious enough that I start to word vomit.

“I took some time to think after last night and spent the day stressing, thinking how I was going to talk to you about it because I do want to. I want to get what I can out on the table if you’d be ok with that,” I look up through my lashes, and I see the most subtle turn of his lip as he watches me attentively.

“Are you hinting that there’s a chance I’ll get to see the side of you others are lucky enough to see?” he retorts, grin growing and taking a step closer to me.

His use of the word ‘lucky’ shortcircuits my brain, and all I can do is nod once, slowly, as my answer. He takes another step, and I match it with one back. I feel more vulnrable than I was expecting to.

“You can understand now why having our plans for the night changed made me slightly temperamental.”

“I think slightly may be an understatement.”

“I think you still should choose your words carefully,” I say, tightening my smile. However, it doesn’t shut him down like normal. Instead, he laughs under his breath, and the doorbell rings.

Both of our heads shoot toward the noise, and solemnity takes over the room.

“You don’t think that’s,” Bucky pauses as he turns back to me.

“How often am I wrong?” I take a deep breath in and smooth my dress out as I walk over, pausing beside him. “Hide the wires. I already did a sweep of the house while you were getting ready to make sure we didn’t have anything out of place. I’ll tell them you’re getting ready.”

I don’t need to open the door to know who it is, but when I do, the urge to yell, “I told you so!” in Bucky’s face is strong.

“Bethanne!” I smile kindly and immediately notice the dish in her hand. Reggie is behind her, holding two others, looking like he just got off work and had been dragged over here. “Did Beau tell me wrong? Are we not eating at y’all’s house tonight?”

She scrunches her face in a practiced motion and lifts the ceramic bowl up as she explains.

“I hate to ask this of you, but our oven is still the old rickety one. The new one had some faulty design, and we had to ship it back. Needless to say, it decided to give out on us today of all days,” she raised her shoulders. “I know we sprung the dinner on you suddenly, but would you two be willing to host if we provide the food?”

Not on the money of what I guessed, but pretty fucking close to the money if you ask me.

“Who is it, Doll?” Bucky’s voice carries from the hallway he’s now emerging from. The first three buttons on his dress shirt are undone, and he’s messing with the cuffs on the sleeves. “Hey, Bauers,” he smiles yet still holds shock in his features by the neighbor's appearance. “Did we get the time wrong?” he asks, looking at his watch before coming to my side, where I've now moved and am letting themselves in.

“No, no, no,” Bethanne shakes her head and hands off one of the pots to me as she takes one from Reggie, who looks more bothered to be here than happy. Long day human trafficking, asshole? “We had some appliance issues thanks to some of the renovations we were doing. I was just asking your wife if we can use your house as tonight's setting and possibly use your oven while here.”

Without hesitance, Bucky takes the dish from my hands and the dish Bethanne had swapped for and nods for Reggie to follow him.

“No problem at all. Let me help you ladies with that. Char," A nickname he had never used for my character before, but it seemed to work fluently. "Would you like to get some wine for the two of you while I get this organized in the kitchen?” he asks me, placing a kiss on the side of my head while his hands are full as he walks towards the other room.

I don’t know how he’s learned to play his role so well, but it’s convincing, even to me.

“Uh, yeah,” I almost stutter in my response as I motion for Bethanne to follow me to the wine cooler out in the garage. “Red or white with tonight's dish?”

"Do you have any more husbands like that in the back I can steal? What a gentleman," she coos, shoulder-bumping me.

___________

Half an hour of baking the food and getting it plated, and our conversation continued with questions mostly strictly about us, which would have been fine if not for the reason behind such invasive intentions.

They started off simple. How’d you guys meet? Who made the first move? What did we love about the town so far? What kind of hobbies and adventures did we take on before moving here? All questions we had prepared for, and if not, could easily improvise.

So far. No slip-ups. If anything, we sold the scheme far better than I’d imagined we would even when they became more personal. And our discussion on being the ‘prude couple’ last night seemed to affect Bucky’s actions a lot more than I was expecting.

An obvious hand on my thigh under the table and an arm thrown over my seat in a slightly possessive manner seemed to catch the eye of Reggie, who mimicked some of the moves as if it were a competition.

In addition, Bucky kept making small compliments about how I looked and how smart I was when they asked about my job. Dropping little comments about things I did (not my character) that he loved and appreciated.

“She’s always doing things like that. I almost never have to worry about making coffee in the morning because she has it all set up just to hit a button and go.”

“You should ask Charlotte about that! She’s the reason our house looks like a home. I’m sure she could give some advice on the kitchen backsplash.”

“She may not know how to boil an egg correctly, but her baking skills are unmatched. I've put on a few pounds now that we have a nice kitchen to spend time in."

I did my best not to act shocked every time he dropped a compliment, but the fact he could have made shit up for my character and used those details as conversation pieces, yet he went the honest way (although more convincing, of course), shocked me.

“Speaking of baking skills,” Reggie nodded his head back to the kitchen counter behind us and smiled at me. “I spied a pie on the counter. Any chance we can have that to finish off this dinner?”

I was still staring at Bucky from his last form of appreciation when I blinked out of my distraction and returned to our neighbor.

“Oh, of course! I was just about to offer,” I smiled, standing up, and Bucky quickly stood next to me, pulling my chair out. “Thank you.” I smiled at him and placed a hand on his arm as I moved around to the counter.

“How sweet. Oh, Charlotte, would you mind telling me where the bathroom is?” Bethanne asked, standing and giving her husband a look for not showing the same chivalry as Bucky.

I watched her, knowing that I would have used the same excuse to do what we planned to at their house. But I was two steps ahead of her.

“Of course! Beau, do me a favor and get some plates out for dessert. I’m going to show Beth-”

“Oh, I’m sure I can find it,” she waved off, coming around the table and moving to the hall promptly.

Yeah… Not without a chauffeur, honey.

“No problem,” I waved off, moving with her casually. “I need to grab some floss from my bathroom before dessert. I’ll show you to it.”

I can see the most subtle glaze of annoyance at my insistence, but she smiles and walks a step ahead of me.

I show her to the bathroom and make it seem I’m going into the master down the hall while she’s in there. And I do, but I keep an eye to make sure she isn’t snooping in any other room besides the one. We’ll have to survey it after they leave, but better that and the dining room than the whole house.

Once we’re back with the boys, no wandering to be done, Bucky helps me plate a slice of chocolate pie for each of us, and I offer to move the conversation to the porch. Any kind of redirection from the comfort of the inside of our home is welcome.

“I love how you’ve decorated your porch. It’s so cozy,” Bethanne notices, pointing out the colorful decorative pillows, hanging swing the size of a daybed, and loads of plants and decor that make the space more intimate. She and Reggie are sat on the two rocking chairs facing the front yard, and Bucky and I are sat close together on the swing, where he’s controlling the tempo we sway in.

“I always wanted a spot outside to escape. We didn’t really have that at our last home, and it was important for me to have this time around,” I replied.

My answer is actually very true. I loved being outside, especially when it was something as simple as sitting in the backyard or swinging on a porch. I had one requirement about this mission, one I’m not even sure Bucky knew about. But I asked Tony to supply a nice budget for the porch.

Call it cheesy, but growing up in such an unnatural and dehumanizing way, you crave a small part of that normalcy you see on the movie screens. For some reason, a porch I could escape on but still be within the comfort of my own home was a dream. And because it was, I thought I’d make this situation a little more bearable by granting that small wish I always had.

“Well, I may have to start budgeting for a new kind of renovation,” she patted Reggie’s back, and he gave her a tight-lip smile. "What do you say, Reg? Do you think we can get a swing like that one?” She smiled over at us just as Bucky pulled me into his side, his arm going around my waist and his hand resting on my hip bone.

“I have a feeling we might as well have built a home from scratch by the time you’re happy with the renovations we’ve taken on,” Reggie answered with a nod before taking a swig from his beer. “Get that recipe for the pie from Charlotte, and I’ll consider buying you a new porch,” he winked my way and turned back to the front of our lawn.

I instantly found Bucky’s hand tightening, and his thumb started rubbing in an up-and-down pattern along my hip. When I turned to him slightly, his gaze stayed on Reggie.

Before finishing cleaning up for the night, we said goodbye to our guests, and just when we thought we hadn’t made any headway in our conversation about work (mind you, we had dropped hints and notices about it all night, but neither of the two seemed to take the bait), Reggie stopped on the last step to our porch and turned to Bucky.

“You mentioned working in transportation, and by the sounds of your new job up here, if you’re interested in a more innovative place, I may have some ins for you,” he shook Bucky’s hand. “I have some coworkers around the states that could use some employees like you on their route.”

“I may take you up on that offer. It all depends on how this week rolls out,” Bucky answered perfectly. The Bauers said their goodbyes, and we watched them walk home before turning to each other.

In a silent celebration, we grinned at the invitation and then sent wordless glances to tread carefully when we got in before scoping the place for bugs…

_______________

Bucky’s POV:

I’m not surprised that the blonde sole cycle instructor of a neighbor was able to get a wire in our bathroom, but neither Y/N nor I were in the mood to remove it right away and give away our knowledge of it, so we each grabbed another drink for the night and debriefed subtly on the porch where the only bugs we had to mind were the crickets chirping their music for the night.

Bethanne was right. Our porch was nicely done, and I hadn’t even noticed Y/N had hung lights out here until she plugged them in.

“I feel like this spot is more put together than the rest of the house.” I noticed the details when we were out here earlier. Now, we both have taken up spots in the rocking chairs our neighbors had vacated.

“I may have focused more of my attention on this spot than the others,” she smiled as she brought a tumbler glass up to her lips. She had drank wine while Bethanne was here, but as soon as they were gone, the whiskey I had made a glass for myself was stolen out of my hand before I could take a sip. Now, we had each of our own.

“Was what you said about the porch a real thing? I mean, we have balconies at the compound,” I looked at her as I sat my drink on the small table between us.

“Balconies and porches aren’t the same. At least in my head, they aren’t,” she nodded, taking a deep sigh and resting her glass in her lap. “Did you mean what you said when you were complimenting me all night?” She lulled her head to the side to look at me.

I had been making compliments. It felt easier to use the ones I had picked up on than the ones I made up. Yet again, I think anyone should get the recognition they deserve when they excel in something. Y/N just tended to excel in more than I think she was aware of. And I was learning she didn’t seem to be used to people taking note of those things.

“Why lie?” I shrugged, starting to rock in a steady pattern.

“Because that’s this whole gig. A lie,” she answered, taking another pull of the hard liquor.

I considered her perspective and shook my head, looking out to the lights on the other side of the street. “I guess it gets tiring at points. Don’t really feel like doing it if the truth can be just as usable.”

She didn’t answer for quite a few seconds, and when I turned back to her, she was staring at me like she was waiting for another shoe to drop.

“How are you so patient? Seriously, is it a drug Tony made you before you had to deal with me on this mission? I don’t get it,” she laughs, but I can hear the genuine confusion in it as she sits forward and turns her body to me.

Honesty. I’m in a mood to be 100% honest.

“Want me to be real with you?” I asked, turning my own body.

“It’d be preferred,” she nods and rests both her arms on the armrest.

“I don’t know anything about your past, but I know most people have a reason for acting the way they do. It took years and a ton of patience before I felt like I was even close to who I used to be. I still struggle to come to terms with the fact I’ll never be who I was before the train incident,” I sigh and rest my head back against the chair as I look at her. “I guess I have understanding more than patience. I understand that you have a history of your own that I don’t know, and I can’t blame you for a lot of the things you do.”

“But you should. I’m an asshole to you,” she says, and the admission is kinda nice to hear, even if it is sad.

“Yeah, and I was hoping you’d be willing to share why that is,” I reply calmly.

She tenses some and sits back in her chair, pulling her legs under her to sit crisscrossed, the chair rocking with her movement and her dress overflowing past her knees.

“I guess now is as good a time as ever…” She looked at me sidelong before finding comfort in the view in front of her instead. “I didn’t really have a chance to develop a personality of my own because of my time in this lifestyle,” she motions around her, “started as soon as I could walk. So I had no identity to fall back on since I had to find it after I escaped.”

I had questions, but I found it best just to listen. Clearly, what she was talking about wasn’t something she brought up lightly, and being an ear to listen was what she needed right now.

“I was left behind by whichever no-good parent gave me up, and Adonis Hummel took me as his own and decided he’d try to recreate the famous assassin, The Winter Solider, from birth practically.”

The name drop came quickly and struck home. I didn’t know her whole story, but I had enough imagination and experience to believe where she was going.

“Wait, Hummel?” I started because the name sounded familiar, but…

“He was a low-level scientist who worked for Hydra when they were still using you under Pierce. He thought he had the brains and resources to create his own version of you. A version that would be more undetectable as a woman and a version he could tweak however he wanted,” she rolled her shoulders. “Lucky for him, I didn’t have to be brainwashed since I knew nothing besides the life of abuse, experimentation, and a shit ton of conditioning... "

"To clarify, I say that for context, not sympathy,” she straightened, and I could see her shifting back to her unbothered disposition, but the truth was shining through the cracks. She may not have wanted sympathy, but something about the vulnerability seemed to lighten the load on her shoulders.

“As for why I may have built a wall around you, an unhealthy and senile wall, I felt as though…” She gulped as if the next part was harder for her to say than the abuse of her past. “I felt as though you had been my competition my whole life, and a part of me, a young and in-need-of-therapy part of me, thought it was best to keep you as far away as possible and hold onto that anger instead of work through it. It felt easier than facing the fear that I didn’t actually equate to you in any way. So that’s another reason why I felt everything with you was to prove a point.” She lets out a short breath after using all the air in her lungs in one swift swoop.

I-

It’s a lot to take in…

She doesn’t move her head back towards me after her confession, and I can’t seem to break my stare from her.

“This is where you say something like, ‘Well, it’s your lucky day. I’m actually an asshole either way, so we can go on hating each other for completely understandable reasons!’ or I don’t know? Anything but silence would be preferred, though…”

Her hand is gripping the arm rest unconsciously like an anchor keeping her on earth.

On instinct, I reach across and pull her hand into mine, keeping my stare heavy, enticing her to look at me.

She closes her eyes at first and takes another short breath before turning.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel unworthy of being on the team.” I feel like I personally am the reason for her suffering, even if I had no correlation with her before I joined the team. "You are more than an asset to the team and are your own kind of weapon. It's incomparable."

“Ugh,” she sniffles and rubs an eye with the heel of her free hand as if to disguise a possible tear as allergies. “This would be so much easier if you were a piece of shit misogynistic asshole, but you're part of the few good ones out there. Steve, Sam, and Clint included, not Tony,” she noted.

I smiled, thinking about how I’d make a team like that even if she had me believe otherwise for so long.

“What I’m trying to get at, B, is you’re not the one I should be blaming for my past. You’re just as much a victim as I am, but I took the easy way out of making it more manageable for me, and I only made it harder for us both in the end. And for that,” she turned and stared into my eyes fully, the hand she held squeezing my own. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve an ounce of the kind of cruelness I tried to bury you in. You are the opposite of what they tried to make you, and you’re genuine in proving that to anyone who meets you. I've been envious of the strength you have, and I can say confidently that I deeply regret ever blaming you for that.”

I once again have to process yet another collection of words I’d never thought I hear. From her. Ever. A part of me believed this was a dream, but the part that Y/N had a grip on was practically pinching me into reality.

Without hesitating, I stood up, pulled her arm up with me, and yanked her into my body in a crushing hug.

She froze at first… The motion was quick and surprising, but slowly, she unhooked our hands, brought both of hers tightly around my waist, and laid into me. I rested my head on top of hers and pulled her shoulders in with my arms, wrapping both of my own tightly around her.

I wasn’t going to let go until she did, and by the looks of it… She wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @mythos-writes @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses @livstilinski @basicallylool @starryeyeseunbyul

My Lovelies Forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter1 @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted @snffbeebee @couldabeenamermaid @rebekahdawkins @alyispunk @billyseye @hallecarey1

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker @charmedbysarge @jbarness @bellamy-barnes @katiaw2 @aikeia @stopjustlovethemcu @enchantedbarnes

Mr. & Mrs. Hunt Series:

@jackiehollanderr @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @theroyalmanatee @wintrsoldrluvr @alexakeyloveloki @learisa @bxckybxrnes24 @lillianacristina @selella @heletsmelovehim @lovelybaka @heletsmelovehim @bubblegumbeautyqueen @mostlymarvelgirl @that-d-bitch @rabbitrabbit12321

#justkending #bucky barnes miniseries #bucky barnes x avenger reader #bucky barnes x reader insert #reader insert mini series #bucky barnes x reader #marvel reader insert #mr and mrs hunt #mr & mrs hunt

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 6 months

Note

Guilty Gear time! While I wait for Baiken, could I ask for some available Guilty Gear characters helping their S/O train?

(Guilty Gear: Strive) Elphelt, Potemkin, Millia, and May training their S/O

Every single person in this list goddamn terrifying to be on the opposite side of, even for a training exercise. Also, this is the first GGS post, apologies if there's OOC!

(Elphelt) "Alright! Let's get rehearsals in today!"

(S/O) "Um...You know I meant for fighting right? Why are you handing me a guitar?"

(Elphelt) "...W-Wait, I thought you said you wanted to train! Oops! I guess you can use that to block!"

(S/O) "I don't think there's any guitar in this world that can block your attacks!"

Elphelt doesn't mind teaching her S/O self defense, because at the same time it allows her to have fun with them, and make sure they can't get hurt!

It's a win-win!

Though the result usually ends with S/O flat on their ass, but she's careful enough to not seriously harm them.

Other than their pride.

(Elphelt) "Don't worry, S/O! I know we can get you to knock me down soon, you're doing super well for just a single day of training!"

(S/O) "Hah, I suppose it'll be an accomplishment of it's own for managing to land a single hit."

(Elphelt) "That's the spirit!"

Potemkin hates fighting, but in the service of protecting others, he doesn't hesitate.

And in terms of a friendly match, he doesn't mind. At least when the opponent isn't the person he loves.

He's very aware of his own strength, and even more aware if he's not extremely careful, he could end up doing more than hurting S/O.

(Potemkin) "I apologize, but I must refuse this request S/O. I cannot spar with you."

(S/O) "I'm not asking you to launch me into the air, I just want to make sure you don't have to worry about me in case I get attacked!. Just a little self defense practice is all!"

(Potemkin) "Even the slightest hit from me can be enough to knock you through a building."

(S/O) "W-Well...alright, fair enough."

(Potemkin) "Though, the sentiment is appreciated, at least."

Part of him was slightly curious to see if S/O could perform his Heavenly Buster, but that was a thought for another day.

Millia is against the idea of teaching her S/O how to fight like her.

And the fact she was an assassin was the least of her worries, not even considering the other things she had been a part of, including her cursed hair.

But at the very least, Millia supports the idea of S/O being able to defend themselves, at least enough to get them to safety.

(Millia) "Very well. However, I will not go easy on you."

(S/O) "Good, I don't want you to! Go ahead and throw a punch at me!"

(Millia) "...You don't want that."

Millia obviously does not use her hair once, only using her pure martial abilities to constantly sweep S/O off their feet, and catching their fists.

Though the progress is understandably slow, S/O is getting better each spar.

And that is enough to keep Millia's mind at peace.

May is ecstatic to teach S/O how to fight, if it means that they can help out even more in the Jellyfish Pirates!

(May) "Alright, day's young, let's get started!"

May rolls her shoulders as she puts the massive anchor on her shoulder.

Making S/O's eyes widen.

(S/O) "U-Uh, you're not going to use that thing on me, are you?!"

(May) "Well, how else are we going to train?...Oh, wait! I have an idea!"

May put her Anchor away and suddenly whistled.

(May) "STARTING 3-2-1, MISTER DOLPHIN!"

The next thing they knew, S/O was hit in the face by May riding Mr Dolphin.

Many a training session passed with S/O repeatedly getting hit in the face by various aquatic animals.

Most of the crew, including Johnny, is amazed that S/O's bones haven't been shattered by repeated blunt mammal trauma.

#guilty gear x reader #guilty gear imagines #guilty gear headcanons #elphelt valentine x reader #potemkin x reader #millia rage x reader #may guilty gear x reader #elphelt valentine #potemkin guilty gear #millia rage #may guilty gear

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frenchkisstheabyss · 1 year

Text

♡ peanut butter & tears ♡

♡ Pairing: idol!boyfriend!minho! x fem!reader

♡ Summary: A week after Minho goes public with your relationship, a ghost from your past posts a stream of tweets on social media revealing your darkest secrets to millions and, more importantly, your boyfriend.

♡ Genre: angst/fluff

♡ Word Count: 1.1k-ish

♡ Warnings: mention of sex, brief discussion of scars/stretchmarks/self harm/people being assholes on the internet (none of it's graphic but still important to warn you of, my loves)

♡ A/N: I love and appreciate @aprilskillstory not only for submitting this but for being super patient while I wrote it and for trusting me to write it at all. I named this after a DPR Ian song btw. If you haven't heard it, it's magical.

This is a nightmare...

Actually, it’s much worse than that. Nightmares you wake up from. This is real life. No alarm clock will ring to snap you out of it. This is happening. Sinking further down into the lukewarm water of your bubble bath, you look on helplessly as your phone lights up with notifications. Every few seconds the number in the top right corner of a half dozen apps doubles, triples in some cases.

Minho’s decision to go public with your relationship had initially gone much nicer than you anticipated. A week had passed with minimal backlash and what you did receive had begun to die down before the stream of tweets that have you preferring to prune than to crawl out of this tub and face him.

There's no telling who would have posted them. Tweet after tweet detailing things that you’ve wanted with everything in you to open up to Minho about. You’ve tried a million times and a million times your admissions have gotten caught in your throat, jagged and barbed, refusing to budge.

But someone dragged them out and your soul along with them, putting your secrets on display for a merciless crowd set on tearing you away from their beloved Minho.

“Trauma like that can’t make her a stable girlfriend.”

“Self harm scars? No wonder she’s always covered up in pics…”

“Our Lino deserves better.”

“She’s dated girls too? Do you think he knew?”

“If Minho knew he wouldn’t be with her.”

You scroll through reply after reply until your screen’s too wet for your touch to register. You’re startled by the sound of Minho shouting, his voice muffled through the thick walls of your apartment but his rage is unmistakable. Placing your phone on the chair by the bathtub, you hop out before courage abandons you.

“It’s gonna be okay” you repeat to yourself, wrapping a towel around you to form a lilac safety blanket, “Everything’s gonna be okay. Just breathe.” Footsteps descend down the hall and you breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. Slow breaths full of intent like the pink haired girl in the yoga pants on Youtube instructed you to do.

“You’re the only big brother I have. Just, please, don’t let them come here” Minho begs, standing in the doorway with his phone to his ear, “I’ll come after. I promise. Thank you.” He hangs up, turning to you, his gaze transforming you into stone like one of the foolish men who dared to lay eyes on Medusa. The rise and fall of your chest ceases almost to the point of lifelessness.

“Minho, I can explain…” He folds an arm across his chest, nervously tapping his phone against his temple, “That you hid things from me?” “I didn’t hide anything. At least, not on purpose. I didn't mean to do it.” “Then what did you mean to do? Hmm? You know what I do for work. What were you thinking?” “Fuck, I don’t know” you weep, sitting on the edge of the tub.

You tilt your head back, hoping to send the tears rolling back to where they came from but it’s no use. They only pool in your eyes, clouding your vision so that the only thing you see as Minho approaches is the distorted silhouette of his figure. “I wanted to tell you, I did, but I was afraid it’d be too much at once. That you’d hate me like other guys in the past have.”

You’re rambling, breathing heavily, blindly reaching for tissues. Minho leans your head forward, resting your left cheek on his stomach while he strokes the other side of your face, soothing your anxiousness. “Hate you? Hate…you?” he asks, more offended by your statement than you expect, “I need you to look at me.” Sniffling, you turn to look up at him and he’s…smiling?

“I love you. Nothing could ever make me hate you. I just wish you’d come to me so I could've protected you. If I had known…” “Wait, you’re not mad?” “At what?” “That I’ve, you know, dated women before.” Minho shrugs, “Jisung’s basically my last resort if we break up so, uh, no.” “But my scars and my stretch marks…” Kissing you on the forehead, he backs away and begins to take his shirt off.

“When you asked me to have sex with the lights out did I ever argue?” For the first time since you met, it sets in that he had, in fact, never questioned why you never wanted the lights on. Come to think of it, you usually didn’t need to ask for them to be off. They already were. Minho tosses his shirt to the ground, running his fingers along the scar that marks his abdomen, “I was afraid you wouldn’t like mine either.”

“Wouldn’t like it?” you scoff, unable to fathom how you’d ever find him anything short of beautiful, “It’s a part of you. I love anything that’s a part of you.” Minho sits down beside you, delighting in seeing you even partially uncovered for the first time, “The feeling’s mutual.” The sound of a vibrating phone grabs your attention. You glance over at the chair. It’s not yours.

Minho digs his phone out of his pocket, groaning as he scrolls through text messages. “Shit, I have to go do damage control” he huffs, jumping up to toss his shirt back on, “But when I come back we have to talk. I have questions about the scars if you’re comfortable? Just to make sure you’re okay.” “Uh, yeah, sure that’s okay. I’ll make us some food for when you get back and you can ask me whatever.”

His phone vibrates again, this time it’s a call. “What?” he whines, “I’m on my way. No, I really am. I’m in the car right now. Oh no, you’re breaking up. Oh…” Minho’s phone hits the bath water with a splash, sending bubbles cascading down the walls. “Oops,” he gasps, knowing very well it wasn’t an accident.

Minho gives you a dozen more kisses on your lips, on your forehead, on your cheeks, before he’s dashing around the apartment searching for his keys. “And stay off of social media unless you plan to make a list of everyone who says something bad so I can fight them! Love you!” he shouts on the way out the front door. “Love you too!” you shout back before it closes.

Left alone in the silence of the aftermath, you nibble at your bottom lip, nervous at having finally found someone this accepting but beyond happy that he exists. That he’s yours. A phone vibrates again. Your phone. Picking it up you see that it’s a call from someone you haven’t spoken to in a while. No doubt with questions about what’s been going on. You stare at it for a moment, contemplating answering but then...

“Oops” you gasp, letting your phone slip into a watery grave beside Minho’s, “Tragic.”

#lee know x you #lee know x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know angst #stray kids x female reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #lee know fluff

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jazzyblusnowflake · 7 months

Note

I saw your post about your Nuzi headcanons and I have to say THEY ARE ADORABLE!

But it got me thinking, do you have any Vuzi headcanons?

I don't why but I've become obsessed with them in the past while and I wanted to know if you had any ideas for them since you made that incredible Vuzi comic a while back.

oh jeesums, i didn't really expect people to like my HCs enough for it to get over a hundred likes 😭😭😭💕

but yesss id love to take a swing at writing down my subconsciously decided vuzi headcanons too XD so lessee-

Some Vuzi Headcanons i got òvó:

[once again only the drone version ones and as sfw as i can manage lmao sorry asddjfkdfl-]

This version being for AFTER everything is over with and V is ALIVE //or I'm going for Liam's neck personally//- but whether she's with N too or not is for your own interpretation, cuz for ME personally she gets with Uzi AFTER N and Uzi were already a thing together-

Starting a bit similar to the previous HCs, unlike with N, Uzi and V looooooooooooove calling eachother names- ranging from pet names to petty insults, they very hardly call each other their actual names lmao; and Uzi is probably the ONLY person that could get to call V pet names or flirt with her and get away unscathed- V has very little tolerance for anyone else. when actually trying to be intimate or flirty- Uzi loves calling V "Kitty" [cliche i know] and its one of the more acceptable pet names that V allows, but sometimes Uzi goes for pet names to actually make V blush and feel flustered, and those are usually from Uzis more compassionate side since V is allergic to romance apparently 🙄. calling V things like "my pretty", "gorgeous", "you wild thing"- drives V up the wall and she's stuck between wanting to bite Uzi's face off or rip her own off- and likewise when V wants to fluster Uzi she has her own range of heat fueled pet names like "baby bat/batsy", "cutie", "my little snacc"- and overall their job is to try and drive eachother insane lmao. less romantic names on both their sides would be=> [Uzi]: fatty, insufferable nutcase, dumb boob// [V]: shorty, edgy toaster, lil freakshow- and etc etc. TLDR: names.... they call eachother alot of names. that's it lmao.

They have a more avoidant relationship, where N and Uzi would seek comfort in one another, Uzi and V realize when the other isn't feeling well they need space to let off steam and trust one another enough that the other will come to them when they are ready. this isn't the most perfect way to deal with things given they are usually on a time crunch and need to get over their traumas quickly, but in the end they both know they are there for eachother when it matters the most.

teasing.... they do alot of that- although one would argue that V is the only one winning here 😭. V would not let the subject of Uzi being short go- if there's any moment that she could make the joke, she will not let the opportunity pass- anything relating to flustering or embarrassing Uzi absolutely goes- its not uncommon for N to walk in on the two fighting while V is just laughing and cooing at the other that she's just a cute lil baby while Uzi is trying her best to strangle the other without actually harming her. but then Uzi says that V is just a big dumb boob cuz that's all she could see from her pov and N is desperately trying to keep himself from laughing in the background-

V loves picking up Uzi.... that's it... she would never admit it out loud, but holding Uzi up, whether on her back or holding her from the front and feeling Uzi cling to her for support gives her immense internal joy, even if she doesn't show it in her expression. she often prefers picking Uzi up when they make out and this works in both their favors too cuz Uzi loves being taller lmao.

V wouldn't admit it but she is terrified of Uzi getting angry. like actually, genuinely, furiously LIVID level of angry Uzi is enough to make V curl her tail between her legs and just step away slowly. and Uzi.... when Uzi is mad, she talks sickeningly sweet to V. that's how V knows its time to fucking RUN or PERISH.

V is a lot more traumatized than N from Cyn's influence. during her comatosed state she can still vividly remember all the things Cyn had done to her in her mindspace, the same way N got to see all of his own mangled bodies in his own headspace, but unlike N she remembered all of it, hence why she turned into a neurological murder bot. So while she is with the others shes often scared opening up emotionally, and to fix this Uzi tries to force her for some cuddle times. don't get me wrong sometimes both N and Uzi have to literally WRESTLE V til she no longer has energy to fight back just to drag her in the cuddle pile. she usually doesn't talk much and even more rarely breaks down into crying but she's secretly grateful of having Uzi to sometimes force her into things she should do more often in order to heal, and one of those is learning to trust again.

V and Uzi have sparring sessions every now and then- tho sometimes V fights dirty- if you catch my drift lmao- and Uzi is weak for that shit, sadly 😔 Uzi finds herself contemplating her life choices when V is constantly giving her new kinks to consider smhhhh. it doesnt help that V doesnt treat Uzi as weak or breakable, she goes all out and Uzi is thankful to her about it. tho N would not touch this particular catfight between two wild ladies with a 100ft pole- [which would probably be the distance he's standing and watching from...just in case...]

funny enough most of their arguments end with makeout sessions. N cant tell if this is their way of flirting from the start or their way of making up after a fight....

V is secretly protective of Uzi, not interfering when Uzi is dealing with someone but standing a few steps behind her, brandishing her claws just in case, to send an obvious message.

V is absolutely rough when trying to be intimate. Uzi needs lots of energy to heal from bite marks but they always make sure the other is comfortable about it. but when Uzi is soft and gentle with her and focuses on being reassuring and loving towards her, V's a flustered incoherent mess-

despite being the more avoidant one, V is usually the one who initiates any intimacy- [mostly because Uzi is too short or busy or embarrassed to do so 🙄] and when she gets needy, Uzi feels internally giddy as though a cat has chosen her or something-

Uzi likes to ask V sometimes of any HAPPY memories she had back at the mansion.

OKAY- damn that was LOOOOOONG- hope these are good enough- i had a lot of fun writing them :D

once again, left out any nsfw hcs 😇 enjoy the dumpster fire lesbiams-

i also tried my best to leave out the N x Uzi x V headcanons so it would seem more specifically for Vuzi :"3

#murder drones #uzi doorman #serial designation v #serial designation n #vuzi #nuziv #vuzin #violetviolence #violentbitingbiscuits #snowballflo #snow rambles #took 3 hours this time #i love writing but DAMN it takes so much time smhhh

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aviradasa · 1 month

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Love long lost pt 4

Aaravos x reader

[Requests are open]

{Angst} Warning: blood,murder,kidnapping,possession,stalking,strong language

This chapter is pretty short cause I'm getting back into writing, so please be patient. I'm trying my best 😭 still. I hope you enjoy 🖤

@delusional-mushroom @imsimping4life @jellyfishxxi @hubba-hubba1 @tired-of-life-86 @delicioussnakeinme

Masterlist

Part one

Part two

Part three

" Years ago, when we found that Aaravos had been stabbing each and every one of us in the back for centuries, and we connected the dots between the disappearance of the late dragon queen and the supposed murder of the late sunfire elf queen, we, of course, all decided we must take action. So when a little bard came to us with months' worth of evidence that one of his performers was engaging in secret relations with Aaravos, we all were inspired with the same idea." Zubeia begins with an odd glint in her eyes.

I sit down on top of the larger stones in the cave, giving the dragon queen my full attention as she speaks. I'm thinking about the many possibilities that could come of this story. ultimately knowing they all end in grief and sorrow.

" After being confided in by the bard, the arch dragons, accompanied by the jailor, all collectively agreed that the only way to be able to imprison Aaravos was to get him to believe that he was successfully protecting Someone he cared for. As some know, He failed at protecting his daughter centuries before, and our best move at the time was to weaponize the trauma of it. By using you." She admits looking down at me.

"What?! That's horrible. What happened to his daughter?" You ask with a surprised look you didn't expect to hear that from her.

"She was killed in the name of cosmic justice for giving humans magic years before my time. Back when the sun King still was just a prince."She explains."After that, 100 years passed, and Aaravos began his plan."

You couldn't believe that. He lost his child, and they used that against him? It's horrible.

" How could you all use that against somebody? I get the need for imprisonment, but come on, that's just horrible." I say, shaking my head in shame. Knowing that somewhere in this story, I agreed to participate.

"We saw no other choice at the moment. You must understand. But back to the story. So you were brought to us by an earth dragon. You were unconscious, sick, and wounded. Just like we needed. The mob you saw was our creation. The bard wanted to be caught so that he could get the people with him. Be authentic. He also knew you were unaware of the two queen's disappearances at his hand, so we knew the confusion would cloud your judgment." She pauses before continuing

" We kept you at the storm spire. And once you were back to your senses. We told you that Aaravos had abandoned you and disappeared to escape prosecution. We told you he had killed the queens for power and that we needed your help. You agreed but started getting suspicious. You were well within your right to have been, as we did not plan to save you as we promised. We gave you to the townspeople under the claim of witchcraft and your relationship with Aaravos. And you were taken to the stake as the other startouched elves came to help and watch with the people. As soon as the flame was set under you, he arrived, and we trapped him. But you. We left to burn." Zubeia explains with a sigh as I sit in shock.

Excuse me. I'm getting told that I was manipulated into getting burned at the stake. For what? I think before Zubeia speaks again

" You know I do regret it. Knowing you in this life, I see that you meant no harm. But we couldn't take any chances we thought you would try to free him."

I wanted to scream at her. But when I went to, no words came out, so I stopped. Frozen for a moment before I can choke something out.

"Thank you, my Queen, for telling me, but I need a moment. Please." I say excusing myself from the room. I can't think clearly with her there. After what I know now. I can't bring myself to even look her in the eye anymore as I leave. As I am making my way through the storm spire, I get some confused looks from Callum and Rayla, but I just keep moving. I have to.

I make my way to the top of the mountain. sitting on the edge with my head in my hands, lost in thought.

It was wrong what they did. But I don't know who to be mad at. Yes, the arch dragons killed me, but Aaravos killed so many and ruined lives. he came to save me, and he just sounds like he did most of it to Avenge, his daughter. When it comes down to it, I can't help but think.

As the sun starts to set, ezren comes up to see me he tells me that they are all leaving to grab food for the night and I should join them. But I can't. I'm not hungry. I need answers. Zubeia is hiding something I can sense it.

Ezren notices something is wrong, but before he can ask if I'm okay, he is called to leave, and as I see them all leave with Zubeia and Zym, I know who I need to speak to.

I march down the steps of the storm spire and into the main room with the remains of a broken mirror. Waiting for the sun to set completely. Once it does, I pick up the shards of glass and place them one by one back in place, and before I know it, I see that glow again, and Aaravos stands before me with a sick grin.

" I know everything, I think." I start unsure of how to go about this.

"I need to know the truth. The dragon queen is hiding something, and I need you to tell me right now!" I say in a strict tone. While Aaravos continues to stare with a cheeky shrug.

" Why won't you speak? I need you to work with me here!" I semi-shout. This is getting frustrating, and the taunting is not helping.

This goes on for a while before I start to pace back and forth, trying to find a way. Before I come up with anything, though, I see him tap the glass.

U couldn't hear it, though.

God damnit I can't fucking talk to him cause I can't hear anything on his side.

"FUCK. THAT'S WHY I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" I shout, running up to the mirror and grabbing it frantically. "There has to be something! Your magic, right? You possessed Callum. What do you need?"

Aaravos laughs at you behind the glass, summoning a paper you step back as you wait for him to write.

' A sacrifice'

Oh.well, that makes it interesting.

I pause trying to think. It's just possession. It's not like I would have to kill them. I would get the answers that I need as well. I look up at Aaravos, still looking smug. He knows. He can see how curiosity eats at my soul. He can see the anger I carry after learning the truth. Oh God, what am I going to do.

I wait atop the roof of a small house deep in the woods. A hunter lives here alone. perfect, it'd almost be too easy. I sneak into the open window and creep silently through the rafters stalking the man through his house.

And once he turns his back, he's mine.

Blood trickles down the man's head as I drag him. I hit him on the head pretty hard. His limp body is heavy to carry, so I decided to make it easy. I stop and take the man back to his house, tying him up and blindfolding m h him. After getting rid of anything, he could escape with me gagging him and head back to the storm spire to get the mirror

Hours pass, and finally, the mirror is where I need it. I put the glass back in and take to covering all the doors, windows, and openings with whatever I can find. The sun has started to peak, so when the last blanket is nailed to the windowframe, I sigh in relief.

Once I see the mirrors glow once again, I run over, untying my sacrifice and dragging him in front of it. Before dropping his unconscious body to the ground

"I got your sacrifice. Now speak. What happened. Truly."

And he did. With a wave of his hand, the man's body twitched and cracked, and he stood before me, removing his blindfold and gag with a laugh. "I knew you would get too curious. You always were. It was the one thing I loved about you the most."

#aaravos x reader #aaravos tdp #tdp #tdp aaravos #aaravos the dragon prince #the dragon prince #tdp x reader #aaravos #tdp rayla #tdp callum #love long lost pt 4

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blindmagdalena · 3 months

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thoughts on ep 4?

ohhhh man this is gonna be really long and disjointed because i just finished the episode. i'm just gonna be focused on the homelander stuff here bc i feel like that's what we're all here for lol

the energy he brought to that whole situation gave me the most intense anxiety. i feel like not even he was entirely sure how all of that was going to go down, but as soon as he was there, all these memories that he had repressed started flooding to the surface. obviously his relationship with Ryan is causing a lot of his trauma to come to the forefront, and this is the culmination of that.

i think what caught me the most off guard was how run down the place looked. a concrete basement with shoddy computers and post-its everywhere. a bunch of techs. it was so small, and yet it's like homelander said. it was a lot bigger when he was a child.

it was their day job. it was his whole world.

that very first moment when Marty calls him John, and he corrects "Homelander," in that boyish voice, i almost burst into tears.

the moment where he's staring at the incinerator made me feel ill for him. i already knew what was coming, and it didn't disappoint.

"I had nightmares about that exact moment, and you can't even remember it."

i had chills throughout this entire scene. it was such a succinct way to lay out how dehumanized he was his entire life. that so many people stood by and were so desensitized to his torture. they tuned out his screams entirely and played little games to pass the time. all while he watched.

this time, when Marty calls him John, there's no quiver in his voice. "Homelander," he corrects firmly, smile tight and closed. direct eye contact, waiting for a challenge. but they won't. he knows no one will stop him. not just because they can't... but because they simply won't. they wouldn't save a child. why would they save Frank?

"You're sorry? Now?"

this whole scene is such an interesting parallel to his conversation with Vogelbaum in s1, where he asks, "You want forgiveness? Now?"

something he rightfully denied Vogelbaum. in this instance, however, we see Homelander enacting his vengeance and giving that forgiveness... but only once they're dead. only once they'd paid his price. once they've suffered as he did. I forgive you.

the only time anyone expresses remorse for what they've done to him is when they're faced with it. when the regret eats away at them not for the harm they caused, but the damage done to the world, or to their own safety.

immediately following that, we see him call Marty over and not just apologize, but very specifically he asks, "Can you forgive me?"

it's perfect foreshadowing for what he's about to do to him. can he forgive the same thing Homelander is about to?

the scene that follows is so profoundly uncomfortable i had a lot of trouble watching. the reality of Homelander's life and teenage years is something that we as a fandom have always been very cognizant of, but seeing it addressed so plainly on screen was both nightmarish and vindicating.

i remember being really squicked out by his comment regarding Ryan getting Zoe pregnant, but it makes total sense that raising Ryan is bringing a lot of his own childhood sexual trauma to the surface. there's SO MUCH to be addressed here that it could be it's own post. but what's great is when Homelander calls an end to it: it's the moment Marty says he's sorry.

"I forgive you, Marty."

this is all about Homelander accepting what happened to him. facing it and the people who were part of it head on.

speaking of...

BARBARA. i know she's public enemy #1 right now, and rightfully so, but i found her so profoundly interesting. did she know Homelander was there? she didn't seem surprised at all. why would she come without backup? how did they even contact her with everything shut down? i don't know, but whatever the case, i really got the impression she already knew what she was walking into. she made a real attempt to get Homelander away from the other scientists, but he wasn't going to be swayed. they were already doomed.

she antagonized him. They were just doing what I told them. It's not their fault. It's mine. Leave them alone.

it's very apparent to me that among his fractured personalities, she represents the kinder motherly one. she, like Stan Edgar and Vogelbaum, are elevated above the other scientists. she's a figure of authority and she spoke to him as such.

"They were scared."

"I was a child."

"They were scared!"

and he does recoil at that. we KNOW Homelander hates being feared. it was his trigger with Madelyn, it's what kept him from lasering that crowd, and it's a blatant, desperate lie when he says to Starlight, "...being feared is a-one okie doke by me."

"Everyone was terrified of you from your first breath."

she breaks his heart a hundred times in this scene. from the reveal that he killed his mother in the same way Vogelbaum told him his son did—the source of that lie?—to the statement that their greatest success was making him obedient by withholding love. by turning his heart into a pit of need.

a sharp juxtaposition to Vogelbaum's You're my greatest failure.

and then she says to him no matter what you do, you will always be human.

here's the thing about Homelander's humanity. he doesn't associate it with kindness or love. he associates humanity with all the worst things that have ever happened to him. cruelty. selfishness. betrayal. his entire life he's been used and abused by the people who were supposed to protect him.

of course he doesn't want to be human. doesn't want his SON to be human. look at what humans have done to him. they're vile, they're vicious, they're dirty.

in another life, that desire could have been his drive to be good. if he'd only had a single fucking example of it.

"I'm not human. And neither is my son. And I'm gonna raise him so that he knows it."

in other words, he'll raise his son the way they failed to raise him. Homelander wants desperately to raise his son with the love he never had. he just doesn't know how to.

ultimately, like Vogelbaum and Stan, Homelander can't bring himself to kill her. he tears apart the people she tried to save, and he leaves her to stew in her own fucking mess.

#sorry this is really long and it's basically just a messy play by play of all his lab scenes #i have a lot of thoughts i still need to process #it was a LOTTTT #also... so much fic i need to write...#darling anon #ask and you shall receive #homelander headcanons #homelander meta #homelander #the boys spoilers

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runariya · 2 months

Text

Three-Shot: Infinity (JJK) • 3

pairing: alien!Jungkook x human!reader genre: alien!AU, dystopian!AU, dark, angst, S2L, eventual fluff and smut warnings: MDNI, 18+, distrust, panic attacks, trauma response, anger issues though kinda entitled to..., physical pain and bruises, fluff, fluff, and fluff, Jungkook can purr, mention of Stockholm syndrome, discussion about bonding, kissing, huge size difference, smut, big cock Jungkook because duh..., oral (f. receiving), squirting, unprotected sex (please wrap it if you don't aim to get preggy folks!), knotting, bonding, please lmk if I forgot something word count: 4.361

a/n: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. Please do not use this story as your own. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

This story was inspired by the song 🎵Jaymes Young - Infinity🎵

01 • 02 • MASTERLIST

The door of the dock closes behind you with a heavy hiss as you're dragged inside Jungkook's spaceship, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum. His grip is unrelenting, digging into your arm, still tender from his earlier grasp. The beeping of the door closing sounds ominous, ticking like a countdown to your impending doom. Contrary to your panicked assumptions, Jungkook doesn't drag you to the cold, sterile white room. Instead, he steers you towards the cockpit, his steps purposeful and heavy. He forces you into your seat, buckling you in with rough, swift motions that leave no room for protest.

His face is thundering with fury, contorted with anger so intense it seems to carve lines into his skin like lightning. A vein throbs violently at his temple, and his jaw is clenched so tightly you can almost hear his teeth grinding. The bioluminescent markings on his body pulse fiercely, bright white now, the calming blue completely vanished. The sight fills you with dread, certain he’ll unleash his wrath upon you the moment you're in space, far from any possible witnesses. The very thought sends chills down your spine.

Jungkook rises to his full height, his presence looming over you like a dark storm cloud. He strides to his seat at the control panel and begins punching buttons with a force that’s clearly fuelled by his rage rather necessity. The ship hums to life, the vibrations beneath not comparing to the power he holds over you. You don’t dare look at him directly, but out of the corner of your eye, you see his fists clenching and unclenching, his jaw still ticking with barely restrained anger. The tension in the cockpit is palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife.

As the ship ascends, breaking free from Thraxor's orbit, Jungkook activates the autopilot with a swift, angry motion. Within seconds, he unbuckles himself and strides towards you, his shoulders tense, his eyes ablaze with fury. You shrink back into your seat, your body instinctively curling in on itself in a vain attempt to shield against the inevitable onslaught. His wrath feels like it's going to crash down on you with the force of burning lava, and you are sure, in that moment, that you won’t make it out of this alive.

Jungkook's voice explodes in the confined space, "What were you thinking? Are you mental?" He starts pacing back and forth, his steps heavy and agitated, his hand repeatedly raking through his blue hair in frustration. Each pass through his hair seems to fuel his anger, making him look more disheveled and ferocious. You don’t dare meet his gaze, the fear of provoking a physical response paralysing you.

"You could have died! You could have been taken! Do you think so little of me that I would trade you for anything in existence? And to a Silvex of all species!" His voice rises with each accusation, a storm of emotions crashing over you. "I've never done you harm, but clearly, I've been living in a fantasy, thinking you trusted me." Every word, every increase in volume, sends a jolt of terror through you, the prelude to your punishment setting your fear ablaze.

Abruptly, Jungkook halts his frantic pacing and spins to face you, his eyes burning with intensity. The sudden stillness makes your breath catch in your throat, your heart hammering as you brace yourself for the inevitable. "Why did you run? What the fuck did I do wrong?" he demands, his voice a raw mixture of hurt and anger. The words hang heavy in the air, and you’re too petrified to respond, your mind consumed by the dread of the pain you’re sure is coming any second now.

"Look at me!" Jungkook’s voice reverberates through the small space, a command that feels like a physical blow. You flinch, pressing yourself deeper into the seat, though you know there's no real escape. He strides toward you with fury in every step, kneeling down abruptly and seizing your arms. His grip is firm, one hand on the bruised limb, sending a sharp jolt of pain through you that you manage to hide. "Look at me," he repeats, his voice dropping to a low, insistent tone.

Your eyes snap up, locking onto his intense gaze. You suppress a whimper, the pain in your arm throbbing in time with your racing heartbeat. His eyes are a swirl of emotions, more than just anger. In the depth of his gaze, you see panic and a raw sadness that you hadn't expected. His grip, though strong, feels less like a threat and more like a desperate plea for understanding.

As you're forced to look into Jungkook's eyes, the intensity of the emotions you find there throws you off balance. The fury is present, but it’s the panic and sadness swirling beneath the surface that dominate his gaze, emotions so uncharacteristic for him that you feel a pang of confusion and shock. His eyes glisten with a barely noticeable film of tears, his struggle to control them evident in the way his expression tightens and his breathing hitches.

"Someone could have taken you. How am I supposed to protect you from harm if you sprint full force into it?" His grip tightens again slightly, the pressure sending a shockwave of pain through your already bruised arm. You flinch involuntarily, a small, pained whimper escaping your lips as you try to pull away from the agony.

At the sound of your whimper, Jungkook releases you as if scalded, his eyes widening in shock as he takes in the bruises on your arm. He curses under his breath, standing up abruptly and leaving the room in a rush. You take the brief respite to steady your racing heartbeat and ragged breathing, the adrenaline still surging through your veins making it difficult to calm down. But as Jungkook returns, your nerves flare up again, a fresh wave of nausea washing over you. The years of survival instinct are hard to shake off; the tiniest incident still sends you spiralling back into a state of heightened alertness and fear, a deeply ingrained habit that you can’t easily break.

Jungkook kneels before you again, his demeanour noticeably more composed than it had been just minutes earlier, yet the sadness lingering in his eyes remains palpable. With gentle hands, he unscrews a tube of ointment, squeezing a generous amount onto his fingers before carefully applying it to the bruises mottling your arm in angry shades of red and blue. The cool ointment soothes your inflamed skin, but it’s the unexpected tenderness of his touch that surprises you the most.

His voice, now soft and melodic, reaches you, "I'm sorry I hurt you. I forgot about my strength and your fragile body. It shouldn’t have happened. I...I can’t promise it won't happen again, but I promise I’ll be more thoughtful." The sincerity in his tone is disarming, chipping away at the walls of fear you’ve built around yourself.

The apology catches you off guard. In all your life, no alien, least of all a Nepturian, had ever apologised to you. Tears well up in your eyes and begin to fall silently down your cheeks. Jungkook notices your tears and his expression softens even further, a tenderness in his gaze that feels like a balm to your battered soul.

"You're safe with me. I’ll protect you with my life, you hear that?" His words, filled with a gentle promise, seep into the cracks of your heart, easing the pain and fear that have taken root there. The adoration you see in his eyes is unlike anything you've ever experienced, and it stirs something deep within you.

"I'm sorry," you sob quietly, the emotional and physical fatigue weighing down on you as the adrenaline finally begins to ebb away. You slump into yourself, the exhaustion taking over as Jungkook continues to tend to your injuries with a care and compassion that both confuses and comforts you.

Jungkook finishes treating your arm with careful precision and begins to rise, but your uninjured arm instinctively reaches out, your fingers clutching his shirt in a desperate plea. He looks down at you, his eyes wide with surprise, and then meets your gaze. You don't dare look up, fear and uncertainty keeping your eyes fixed on the floor. Gently, he loosens your grip and leaves the room, returning shortly without the ointment.

His footsteps are steady and calm as he approaches you. Standing before you, he carefully slips his arms under your thighs and back, lifting you with a gentleness that belies his earlier anger. You tense momentarily, unsure of his intentions, but as he carries you to his seat and places you on his lap, holding you securely with one arm while the other deactivates the autopilot, a sense of safety washes over you.

As you nestle into his warm, strong chest, the tension in your body begins to dissolve. For the first time since the human race ended, you feel truly safe. Jungkook’s protective embrace is a sanctuary, and the rhythmic beating of his heart lulls you into a deep, restful sleep. Your body, worn from fear and adrenaline, finally relaxes, surrendering to the comfort and security he provides and you longed for your whole life.

You wake to the steady rhythm of Jungkook's breathing and the reassuring beat of his heart. His strong arms still cradle you securely on his lap, and his hand moves gently over your head and through your hair. There's a low, purr-like sound emanating from his throat, deeper than anything you've ever heard from him or any other Nepturian. It's strangely comforting, and you wonder if it's akin to the way cats purr when they're happy. Your thoughts drift to this curious noise, but they’re quickly interrupted when Jungkook notices you’re awake. He stops stroking your hair, and the purring ceases. You startle, a sudden wave of anxiety washing over you. Is it still alright for you to be so close to him, or has he changed his mind?

Your heart races as panic sets in. The comfortable safety you felt mere moments ago is overshadowed by a creeping fear. You stand abruptly, trying to put some distance between you and Jungkook. But his hand catches your wrist gently yet firmly. “Stay,” he says softly.

You look into his eyes, which are nearly black, reflecting the stars and distant galaxies passing by outside the ship. You always thought his eyes were emotionless, but now that you're close enough, you see beyond the distant facade. There's a depth of longing and hope that you never noticed before. His grip loosens as you remain silent, and he reluctantly lets you go. You walk around his seat to the other side, feeling his gaze following you with a mix of curiosity and concern.

You climb onto his lap again, this time facing the other direction. As you settle back into his hold, his strong arm wraps around you from the opposite side. “I’m more comfortable facing this way,” you whisper, feeling a sense of relief wash over you when Jungkook visibly relaxes at your words. He shifts into a more comfortable position himself, and the soothing purr resumes.

Resting your hand on his chest, you inhale his scent. The whole ship carries his scent, but this close, it’s far more intense and comforting. He smells like what you imagine home should be. You watch his markings pulse in time with the heartbeat you feel beneath your fingertips, each beat confirming your past assumption. Without the fear that usually clouds your judgment, you trace every line of his markings with your eyes, appreciating their intricate beauty.

You know you're being naive, perhaps even reckless, but the comfort you feel from the promise he made is too precious to dismiss. Deciding to savour this peaceful moment for as long as it lasts, you gather all your courage. Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you ask in a tentative voice, “Why do you have different markings?”

The purring stops, and Jungkook takes a deep breath, the sigh he releases resonating loudly in your ear. You brace yourself for a negative reaction, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he begins to explain. “Are you familiar with Nepturea Nova?” he asks, and you shake your head. “A long time ago,” he continues, “an ancient prophecy was etched into the sacred stones of the Temple of Luminescence. The prophecy spoke of a time when Nepturea Nova would face a great darkness, threatening to engulf the entire planet. It foretold the coming of a chosen Nepturian, whose markings would differ from all others, symbolising a unique connection to the core energy of Nepturea Nova. This chosen one would be the key to harnessing the planet’s true power and restoring balance.”

Jungkook falls silent, letting you process what he's said. The information is overwhelming, raising more questions than it answers. “And you’re the chosen one?” you ask, your voice trembling slightly.

He hums in response, tensing even more as if he's afraid of your next question or how you’ll react. “And how are you supposed to restore Nepturea Nova’s balance?” you probe further. Jungkook's tension increases, and his markings pulse more rapidly. You lean away from him, searching his eyes that now avoid yours, staring instead at the vast emptiness outside the spaceship. His gaze mirrors conflict and a hint of fear, making you uneasy.

“Jungkook?” you call his name, desperate for the truth rather than being blindsided by it. He clears his throat and finally explains, “The prophecy also mentioned a being from beyond the stars, one who would share a powerful bond with the chosen Nepturian. With me. This being was described in terms that could only be understood as human.”

Panic sets in, and you scramble off his lap, fear clouding your judgment. Jungkook hurries to explain, but his words only send you into overdrive. “According to the prophecy, this human would be essential to unlocking the full potential of the chosen one and the energy of Nepturea Nova.” You bolt from the cockpit, your mind racing with the fear that Jungkook needs to sacrifice you for his planet. You were right not to trust him all along.

Jungkook calls your name, his footsteps echoing as he chases after you. You try to reach your room before he can catch you, but just as you're a few meters away, his next words halt you in your tracks. “You’re my mate! That’s the bond!”

Your breathing is heavy as you slowly turn around, your hands shaking uncontrollably. Jungkook stops at a distance away, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He repeats softly, his heart broken on his tongue, “You’re my mate,___. I’ll protect you for infinity.”

The weight of his words sinks in, and though fear still grips your heart, there's a part of you that yearns to believe him. In the vast emptiness of space, amidst the remnants of your shattered world, perhaps this bond is the anchor you've been desperately seeking.

Months slip by as you and Jungkook traverse the galaxies, each day blurring into the next in a kaleidoscope of starlight and shared moments. At first, you weren't sure whether to trust Jungkook with his revelation of the prophecy and your supposed role as his mate. The idea seemed far-fetched, a desperate myth clinging to the remnants of a world you barely understood. But Jungkook, true to his word, gave you all the space you needed. He never pressed, never forced, responding only to your needs with a patience that slowly melted away your fear.

As the days turned into weeks, you found yourself seeking him out more often, drawn to the comfort and safety he provided. You began to spend more and more time on his lap, the place that had come to symbolise your sanctuary. Conversations flowed easier between you, his deep voice a constant balm to your frazzled nerves. Each exchange chipped away at the trauma you carried, and with every passing day, your trust in Jungkook grew stronger. You reflected often on the feelings blossoming within you—wondering if they were born from the safety he provided or if they were simply a byproduct of your circumstances. But even if it was a kind of Stockholm syndrome, you found you didn’t care. Jungkook was attractive, caring, and protective—more than you ever could have hoped for. As the days shot by like the stars outside your ship, you let your emotions flow freely, accepting your fate as it would come.

One late evening, after leaving the bustling planet of Targulais, you find yourself once again nestled on Jungkook’s lap. The sense of safety you feel with him extends beyond the confines of the ship. Whenever you venture out, he never lets you out of his sight, his imposing stature and the species he is, warding off any potential threats.

Tonight, you are both enjoying a kebab-like dish, its spicy aroma filling the small space. You hold yours with both hands, struggling to keep its contents from spilling, while Jungkook handles his with one hand, the oversized food looking like a mere snack in his grasp. You know you’ll be full after just a few bites, a fact that always delights Jungkook as he happily devours your leftovers.

“I assume we’re not bonded yet,” you say, looking up at his profile. “How do Nepturians bond?”

Your question blindsides him, causing him to cough violently. You pat his back, your small hand likely feeling like a feather to him than real help. Once he manages to clear his throat, he simply replies, “Sex.”

A tiny “oh” escapes your lips, and you both resume eating as if nothing unusual has been said. When Jungkook finishes his kebab, you hand him the remains of yours, which he accepts with barely concealed glee, a smile lighting up his face that makes your heart melt.

“What if I don’t want to have sex?” you ask after he swallows the last of only two bites he used.

Jungkook shrugs. “We don’t bond. It doesn’t matter to me.”

You lean away rom him, searching his face. “What about Nepturea Nova?”

His big hand begins to run soothing circles on your back, and if you could purr, you would. “You’re more important to me,” he says, his tone and eyes filled with sincerity that takes your breath away. He searches your face for any reaction, and for a moment, you are too shocked to respond. Just as his hand reaches up to touch your face, you gather all your courage, cup his face with both your tiny hands, and kiss him softly.

It is your first true kiss with anyone, unforced and mutual, filled with positive emotions. Jungkook responds immediately, his touch on your face and back delicate and loving. When you break away and look into his eyes, they shine brighter than all the suns you have ever seen.

“I love you for infinity,” he whispers.

Your throat tightens, unable to voice your feelings yet as verbally as he does. But you know, and he knows too. It is enough. You are enough.

Barely a week passes when you find yourself not just sitting on, but straddling Jungkook's lap. Your first kiss days ago had become the catalyst for your deepening desire. His tongue dances softly in your mouth, the gentle stubble on his upper lip grazing your nose as your breaths mingle with the slight moans escaping you both. Jungkook's purr forms a soothing backdrop, intensifying your longing for him.

Your hands trace the muscles of his torso, his defined shoulders, and his strong arms, his marks that pulse steadily with his grounding heartbeat. His pecs are firm under your fingers, the vibrations of his purr noticeable.

You've been kissing and grinding against each other for the past hour, as if he were your oxygen and you his. You're soaked at this point and don't want to stop. As you reach the hem of his shirt, he stops your hands and breaks the kiss. Panting, Jungkook asks, "Are you sure?"

You nod, trying to kiss him again and resume undressing him, but he stops you once more. "Are you really, really sure?"

You scan his face, noting the fear and doubt in his eyes. But you are certain—you want this, you want him, and you want to be bonded for life with him.

Smiling, you place your hand on his cheek, stroking his cheekbone as you take a breath and finally say, "I love you for infinity, too."

Tears of joy collect in Jungkook's eyes as he crashes his lips onto yours. With one swift movement, he lifts you in his arms. You giggle with a small yelp, not having expected the move, but immediately cross your ankles behind his waist and wrap your arms around his neck. As you get lost again in the sweet taste of his mouth and the soft feel of his blue hair, Jungkook carries you to his room and gently lays you on his bed, crawling over you.

He kisses his way up your body, over your clothes, his big, veiny hands tracing your shape. They start kneading your breasts as his purr intensifies. You moan softly when he kisses and licks your neck, so gently, not daring to leave marks on your sensitive skin.

"Tell me if I hurt you too much, love," he whispers.

You breathe a "yes" as Jungkook slowly undresses himself and then you. He's gorgeous-muscular, strong, and breathtaking. His girthy, long cock stands proud and leaking before his abdomen, pulsating veins running up to its angry red tip, contrasting with his blueish skin. The sight of his tight balls makes a wave of arousal spill out of you onto the sheets, which causes Jungkook's eyes to snap to your weeping hole. You don't feel ashamed at all, his hungry, loving eyes scaling your confidence to another level.

"You're so beautiful," Jungkook breathes out as he lowers his towering form to your cunt, taking a long, slow lick of your juices. He takes his time, eating you out as if savouring every drop. It's the best sensation you've ever had, his tongue strong and heavy within your walls, stretching you out. You know you're near when the purring starts to vibrate on his tongue and his big fingers play with your pearl.

He moves to his knees, looking at you with hooded, lust-filled eyes, his cock bouncing from want and his fingers scissoring your hole. You come undone, squirting all over the bed, his hand, and his cock.

"Fucking hell, __. You're a goddess. Fuck!" Jungkook moves over you, kissing you deeply while continuing to finger you, swallowing every moan you give him. "I need to bond with you. Please let me bond with you."

"Yes, Jungkook. I need you. Please claim me." You run your hands through his soft hair and across his big, muscular back. His muscles flex as he adjusts his leaking head to your entrance.

"Tell me if it hurts, love," he breaths.

You nod, pushing your hips up to signal you're ready. Jungkook pushes forward, his head entering you with a little resistance despite your soaking wetness. He moans loudly as he pushes inch by inch into your tight hole, your walls greedily swallowing him with pulsating urgency.

"You're so tight," Jungkook presses out, his face contorted with the effort to control his instincts. Your walls flutter at his words, taking them as a compliment. When he's finally balls deep, you let out an elongated moan.

Your cunt can't stop fluttering, wanting all of him. He starts slowly pushing back and forth until it gets easier to move.

You learn he's vocal, moaning and grunting melodically with every push. It spurs you on, kissing him more lovingly, moving with him to give him as much pleasure as he's giving you. He caresses every inch he can reach, his tall build enveloping you, making you feel tiny but oh so powerful.

When your moans increase in volume and you feel euphoria vibrating in your veins, Jungkook picks up the pace, pushing his cock into your leaking cunt over and over. The squelching sound echoes in the room.

"I'm close," he moans. "You sure you want to bond?"

Sweat drops fall from the slope of his nose onto your face, and that alone nearly pushes you over the edge. But you restrain yourself, wanting to come with him so badly.

"Yes!" you nearly scream, wanting him to finally make you his for eternity.

Your name leaves his lips in a moan as he finally comes undone. The sight is mesmerising—his eyebrows knit together, his eyes squinting barely open, watching you with unrestrained love. His big cock pulses, his seed filling your cunt as it sucks him further inside, milking him for all he's worth.

"Jungkook," you moan as euphoria overtakes you in an intensity you've never experienced before. It's like meeting him at the bottom of the ocean, where time is frozen and only you and he exist. You feel his knot grow inside you, making you moan and come a third time as Jungkook pants and moans above you.

His markings start to pulsate violently, switching their colour from white-blue to all the colours of the rainbow. He looks ethereal, and you can't stop coming down from your high; the sight is too overwhelming. Jungkook tries to pump the knot a bit further inside you while moaning just as uncontrollably as you.

Then, all the scars littering your body from a time you accepted to forget, start to shine in the same colours as his markings. They dance around your body, transforming to match Jungkook's. He looks down at you, full of love and fulfilment.

"I love you for infinity," he smiles as his cock and knot soften inside you.

"I love you for infinity," you echo, knowing that in this moment, everything is as it should be.

01 • 02 • MASTERLIST

a/n 2: thank you so much for reading! lmk what you think - also: drabble requests and character asks are open

Like what you read? You can find more here!

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kinardsevan · 4 months

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BuckTommy/911 fic masterlist

as promised, here is your master list for everything I've written so far (and will continue to update as it changes):

(Divide added because this is getting kinda long now)

UPDATE: UNDER CONSTRUCTION - (this list is getting fairly long, so it may grow in to separate pages as I work on it in the coming days/weeks)

The Song Lyric Series:

Just as the title suggests, these have mostly been lyrically driven. The intention is for them to remain looser than a story, but so far it's been the same plot. (subject to change)

what if there's a little boy that needs a safe place :

Chapters: 1 Rating: M Warnings: n/a

“I’m sorry Evan,” Tommy stated genuinely as he watched Evan drop his towel and then redress. “I honestly don’t know what to say.” Evan huffed, unable to hold all the feelings in any longer. Everything felt so tight—his chest, his throat, his stomach. He couldn’t keep it all buried inside against Tommy’s lack of an answer. OR. The one in which Evan is not okay with a drunk rando flirting with his very beasty, very sexy boyfriend and it leads to professions of love.

they all led me to him (he's one of the good ones:

“I might’ve mentioned fucking you properly earlier this evening,” Tommy says, and even in the midst of wanting the older man to tear his body apart, Evan knows that this moment is as serious for Tommy as it was for Evan earlier. “Yeah,” Buck rasps, unable to stop himself from grinding his hips against Tommy. “Please do so.” “I’m not going to,” Tommy replies softly. OR. Tommy wants Evan to understand just how in love with him he is. Chapters: 1 Rating: E Warnings: n/a

i'll be here (and you can lay by my side) :

Chapters: 2/? Rating: E Warnings: graphic depictions of violence

When Tommy has to look back on this weekend in the years that come to pass, he won’t have the words to express how things went from so right, to so wrong. He’ll struggle to even find a way to comprehend the trauma inflicted by having his soul shredded right in front of his face and absolutely unable to prevent it. And at its worst, he won’t even have words to explain it all. OR. part 3.

Multi-Chapter Stories

your arson's match, my somber smile (the love of my life): Chapters: 4/? Rating: n/a (subject to change) Warnings: graphic depictions of violence

In that moment, the nanosecond in which he had crystal clarity, only one thing mattered to him. As his feet finally slipped out from under him, just before the warped metal came swinging down at another angle, he looked Bobby in the eyes. “Tell Tommy I love him.” And then the world was black.

guilty as sin (i choose you and me, religiously): Chapters: 1/2 Rating: T Warnings: n/a

Buck and Tommy's first kiss, as told through Tommy's POV.

Never Til Now (Rolling Up The Welcome Mat) Chapters: 5/? Rating: M (for themes) Warnings: n/a

"Maybe there’s something about tangibility, about holding the real thing versus just the idea of it, but it cracks something open in him that hasn’t existed in a long time. Because all of a sudden, he can’t imagine not having this. Not getting to see Evan like this, every day. And it’s barely been thirty seconds." - In March 2025, with plans to propose, Tommy realizes Evan wants kids. the problem is, Tommy doesn't. In November of the same year, in a happenstance exchange, he meets their baby girl. (OR, we take a trip through a dual timeline in which the idea and reality of having kids drives Evan and Tommy apart, and then brings them back together.)

The Devil Doesn't Bargain Chapters: 12/? Rating: E Warnings: Rape/Non-con, Self-harm, Suicidality (discussed and attempted), PTSD, Anxiety, ALL THE TRIGGER WARNINGS

Tommy Kinard lived a whole life before he walked into Evan Buckley's life, and it's not one that he's offered up much of so far. Until Evan starts asking questions. Trigger warnings for sexual assault, abuse, and so forth.

you're the only one (who ever gave a damn) Chapters 2/2 Rating: M (for themes and mild sexual content) Warnings: Rape/Non-con

“I um… I don’t know,” he admits softly. “C’mon, Tommy,” Eddie replies. “No, not like that,” Tommy says, looking back up at Eddie. “Not like I don’t have a real excuse. I don’t know like…like I really don’t know, Eddie. I was drunk. I remember being at the bar with you and the other guys, and joking about you and Evan sparring the next time we were going to train, and then…” He pauses, shakes his head. “Nothing. I woke up in a house I didn’t recognize.” Eddie stares at him, coffee cup in hand and mouth slack, and Tommy waits for the judgment to come. He’s fully prepared for Eddie to tell him what a dick he his for going home with some other guy and having drunken sex. But Eddie doesn’t speak. Eventually, he’s quiet so long that it makes Tommy uncomfortable. “Look, I know you’re over there judging me-..” Eddie blinks a few times, shaking out of his reverie as he lowers his coffee mug to the counter. “Tommy, man, that’s not cheating,” he states matter-of-factly.

a set of empty bones chapters: 9/? rating: E warnings: rape/non-con, graphic depictions of violence

“You’re not even paying attention right now,” he growls. “Look, Eddie,” Evan tries, lifting his hands up in surrender. Eddie’s eyes trail from his eyes down to his lips, his chest, and then back up at him, and Evan doesn’t like the way it feels. Something about the entire moment feels uncomfortable to him. Eddie sets the bowl on the counter and puts his hands on Evan’s ribs, pushing him back towards the fridge. “Eddie, man, what’re you doing,” Evan stammers nervously. BTHB: "you can scream all you want", lacerations, betrayal

Minis:

the rhythm of your heartbeat: Evan has night-terrors. Tommy has to contend with them.

you are the reason: post 709 buck/bobby conversation in which Buck makes it to Tommy's.

Connecting: 709 deleted scene. Evan is getting dressed before the medal ceremony, and Tommy's pretty sure he's going to make them late.

oceans deep, rivers wide: Evan has a realization after a work incident. Tommy concurs. burn it to the ground: Tommy knew the first time he kissed Evan Buckley he was burning his whole life to the ground.

for a thousand years (and a thousand more): In which Tommy tells Evan what it was like falling in love with him. 30 Day Fluff Challenge: Concept list found here

Prompt Minis: here

Others/Oneshots:

something stronger than me (i can hardly stand up, i can hardly breathe): Chapters: 1/1 Rating: E (for language) Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, TW: Self-harm, TW: Suicidal ideation

It had been years since he’d been down this low. At least, that’s how he’d been presenting it to others. But in the darkness of his apartment, where his boyfriend couldn’t see his legs because their schedules were conveniently not aligning ever since Gerrard’s arrival…his thighs were coated in fresh wounds.

The Saboteur: Chapters: 1/1 Rating: M (for language) Warnings: TW: homophobic language, TW: harrassment

Five times Tommy Kinard is faced with having to file a complaint against Vincent Gerrard, following his reinstatement at the 118.

take me to the other side Chapters: 1/1 Rating: E (for themes) Warnings: n/a

“So what’s on your mind,” Tommy asks him. “Are you imagining a specific scene? Or a particular want you’re thinking about?” “Not a scene, necessarily,” Evan says, twiddling his thumbs. He’s struggling to piece together the words in the right way to convey what he’s actually wanting. “Okay,” Tommy says, accepting his answer. When Evan doesn’t speak again right away, Tommy prompts him. “I want…?” Evan gulps. “I want…I-i want you to t-t-tie me up."

you're the only one (in the dark, i see) Chapters: 1/1 Ratings: T (for language) Warnings: n/a

He closes the door behind Tommy, his hand still resting on the handle for a beat as he stares at Tommy’s back. He wants answers, and if this is his last chance to get them, then God damn it, Evan’s going to get them. - Tommy breaks up with Evan after Gerrard's return to the 118. Evan is not okay with this decision.

BuckTommy Week 2024

Day 1, Date Night: Rating: General

clay wheels and no ghosting: Tommy and Evan attempt ceramics and talk about things.

Day 2, Emergency: Rating: M (suggestive language)

Under the Weather: Evan and Tommy fall ill

Day 3, Bad Weather Days Rating: M (Graphic Depictions of Violence) Chapters: 2/2 its hurting (but it ain't dead) : Tommy is pissed. No one called him to ask him if he was cool with this idea, and it really doesn’t matter to him in the moment that they didn’t actually have to. It was Evan. They had allowed his boyfriend to put himself in the line of fire without bothering to even ask if that was something he was alright with. He wasn’t even forewarned; just showed up to a scene where they’d been asked to send extra support in plain clothes. But if he’d known…oh, if he’d known…

#bucktommy #bucktommy fanfic #master list #bucktommy master list #kinardsevan #tevan fic #tevan fanfic #evan buckley x tommy kinard #kinley fic #kinley #kinley fanfic

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rise-my-angel · 2 years

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Haunted Anguish

Credit: @a7estrellas

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Length: 15.3k

Warnings: Angst/hurt comfort, trauma related mental instability, mentions of blood, accidental self harm, nightmares and sleep paralysis, smut, outdoor smut, p in v, sex as a coping mechanism

Notes: Ptsd is not mentioned by name or diagnoses, but presentation of symptoms is a theme throughout the fic. Direct follow up to Past Retribution but can be read as a standalone.

The week after the bite, you knew you were losing yourself, and you weren’t stupid enough to think Joel hadn’t picked up on it. But you struggled to stop any of it. The metallic flick was the only thing you could focus on. Not the sounds of people walking around, not the conversations that passed you by, not even the quiet shuffling of the horses mere feet from you.

It was hard to pinpoint this feeling that had been growing for days. It wasn’t like your brain was lost in a fog, the total opposite. It felt like you walked through a world that blurred around you. Mute and numb to your existence despite the truth being otherwise. There was a growing heaviness in your chest that each day filled just a bit more with a disgusting guilt and the past 2 days your hands kept pulling out the lighter as if it possessed you to do so.

Maybe if Joel hadn’t grabbed it would this feeling disappear? He had seen what you had done, what you had tried to do, he must had assumed it belonged to you, and now it sat in your pocket at almost all times screaming at you along with the bite that loomed over it all.

You wanted to blame him because it was an easy out, an excuse as to why you carried a burden with you. But it wasn’t Joel’s fault and you knew that, and the lighter wasn’t the problem. It was the memories it held from that day that haunted you, and those weren’t so easily gotten rid of.

There was a small wooden bench pressed up against the corner maroon coloured wall, a small square room protruding from the edge where supplies could be stored allowing you to sit with your back against it and legs stretched out, one knee bent up where your arm rested on. You had been there for quite a while, your tasks for the day long completed yet you sat there.

On and off you occasionally flicked the lighter so the flame appeared, and you felt lost in it, the heat ever so slightly trying to burn your fingers the longer you let it stay lit. The muffled world simmered down to a silence before a clang of metal snapped you out of it. The sliding doors felt loud as you could see Joel’s figure make it’s way into the room.

At first he leaned his hand against one of the doors with the other on his hip, the sunlight shining behind him shrouding his features in as slight shadow, but his voice was as clear as can be. “You coming back anytime soon, or do you want me to bring you a sleeping bag?” The grin in his voice was audible and any other time you would have let out some sort of a laugh.

But all you did was watch the flame for a second to long, Joel calling your name in a louder tone until you snapped your head up to him properly, hand slamming the lighter shut. Almost as if you didn’t really hear him you just raised your eyebrow in question.

“I said, are you ready to head home.” Pushing off of the entrance door, Joel took slow steps into the room, eyes narrowed as he looked you over in an expression you couldn’t quite pick up on. “I feel like I’ve barley seen you the past couple days.”

The one arm resting on your knee pressed down onto it harder as your fingers tightened around the lighter while the other dig into the fabric of your pants until you could feel the stinging pressure. You shook your head slightly and swing your legs over to put your feet down. “Sorry, yeah, I’m done for the day.”

“Hey, easy there.” Joel suddenly had you in his hold as he forced you to stand up slower. “The last thing we want is to redo your stitches 3 days in a row.” The sternness of his voice felt like condescension. You were just an inconvenience, needing him to redo them every time you ripped them open carelessly all beacuse you couldn’t reach the angle to stitch yourself back up.

Swiftly you tried to pull your arms from his grasp, not quite meeting his eye. “I got it.”

“Do you?” Joel has stopped your pulling away with a firm hold on your upper arms, body slightly bent to look at you closer. If you didn’t feel the way you did, you would have known Joel’s tone wasn’t what you interpreted it as. To him, it was concern. The first day after he and Ellie brought you home you were fine it seemed, but the next day it was like you suddenly were trapped in a memory and the fact that you barley even registered the pain of ripping your stitches open only made him more assertive in checking on you.

To you though, it felt like scolding. It felt just like the early days of knowing each other, that night when he yelled at you on the porch of his house in the pouring rain. Like a parent doubting a petulant child, the very thing you had previously worried he saw you as.

Your eyes snapped up to him, a flash of not quite anger, but irritation swam in your eyes. “You wanna check?” Knocking one hand off of you, you brazenly lifted one edge of your shirt up to reveal the unsavoury sight of the healing wound in your side. New stitches in tact.

Joel was silent for a beat, and it wasn’t just his tone that you didn’t grasp, it was also the concern plastered all over his face that you read as annoyance. “Good. They look better today.” He went to put a hand on your lower back to lead you out, but found himself hovering over you instead.

His eyes looking to the side at you debating if you’d shake that off as well. Joel could tell what happened out there was boiling something up inside of you, but it was like you were shutting him out entirely day by day. He couldn’t get it out of you to talk to him, but he was also aware not to push you too hard or you’d likely go back to your own place for god knows how long.

Ellie had pointed out that now he knew how annoying being pushed away was. Meant to poke fun at him, but both of them read her tone. She looked for you constantly, always throwing her head back and forth hoping to see you join them or come home and it was hurting her more than she admitted. Joel knew exactly how she felt.

Your arms were crossed tucked protectively against your chest as you made your way home. The crunch of the gravel filling the air between you as the normally comfortable silence now felt stifling. Joel broke it first. “You know you can talk to me right?”

The only response you gave was a nod, and he prompted again. “I just- keeping all that inside can’t be healthy. Trust me, sweetheart I’d know.” Sensing you weren’t at his side, Joel pivoted around to see you looking at him more harsh then he’s used to from you.

“Keeping what inside me, exactly?”

At this point you were near the main street, people all around as you posed an unfair question you knew he couldn’t answer here. “You know what.”

Your face was firm and somewhat impassive. “Do I?”

It wasn’t an anger Joel was feeling, but a frustration that he wasn’t sure how to help you. He wasn’t stupid, this had to do with what happened with Don, probably what happened all those years ago too. And not that he’d admit it, deep down he wondered if any of this had to do with your immunity as well. You had been left to be infected and die twice by the same man, both times you came out the other side alive.

It weighed on Ellie too, but in a different way. She was young, Joel could protect and guide her through those feelings. But you weren’t, and he couldn’t force you too far.

Your name slipped from his lips in warning, but still soft and close to your ear as he stepped into your personal space. “I’m not just going to let you fall down that rabbit hole.” His large hand encompassed your cheek, finally relieved that you didn’t move away form his warm touch. “That’s a place you don’t deserve to be.”

You slid your gaze away from him, the feeling in your gut quickly flying back to guilt. Once again you just nodded in agreement. Raising your hand up to squeeze his wrist in affection with a smile that certainly didn’t make it to your eyes.

But it was something, so you both left for home in relative calm. You weren’t that much more talkative throughout the evening. You could see Joel and Ellie threw you prompts to join the conversation, but answering with a proper sentence wasn’t common. “Just busy is all. Daisy’s just about ready to give birth so I got a lot on my hands.”

Daisy was a particularly stubborn horse that was most attached to you. She gave most people a stink about everything unless it was you, and her ready to give birth only made her more aggressive about shoving anyone but you away. It did take a lot of your time, but all three of you knew it was just an excuse to be alone more often then not. “I can help out with the others if you want to just focus on her?”

The bright hopeful look on Ellie’s face was slightly heartwarming. She clearly was desperate to get closer to you know that you had something incredibly rare in common. So you tilted your head to the side in a little shrug. “Sure, don’t see why not.”

It wasn’t lost on you that finding such a familial bond in Joel, settling somewhere that felt like home has opened her up to you. The very real possibility, that finding a life somewhere so normal and meeting another person just like her, has her yearning for something akin to a family. Not just a father, but did she really deserve to be dragged down your path?

You were slower than them picking at your food, often tapping the fork lightly against the plate as your eyes fell back into this strange feeling so incredibly hard to understand. At one point you could feel Joel’s hand gently caress you as he slid it along your shoulder blade, before coming up to bring the side of your head closer to him. Pressing his lips against your hair me mumbled into you, “We’re gonna talk later, okay?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you gave back the only affection you could summon. Squeezing the hand on your shoulder and leaning back slightly into his broad frame. He pressed one more smaller kiss into you, “I got you, sweetheart.”

Joel always reminded you of that, but did you have him? Were you good enough to be here, or did your constant mistakes just pull them down? You seemed to keep putting yourself into life threatening situations of your own doing, and you couldn’t help but wonder just how long you should put Joel and Ellie through this.

If you were honest, talking was the last thing you had the energy for especially with a man like Joel Miller, but you made your way into the bedroom anyways.

It was later in the evening when you had said goodnight to Ellie before pausing at Joel’s closed door. Your hand was over the cold metal of the door handle as your rested your forehead against the wood. You couldn’t avoid this one, Joel would just stay awake until you’d try to go to bed. Letting out a shaky breathe, you slowly opened the door just enough to slip inside.

He looked so soft, the dim glow of the room painting the side of his face like a painting. His features so handsome it never failed to pull you into it’s alluring grasp. Dressed in just a soft t-shirt and flannel patterned sweats, he was leaned up against the dresser with his hands braced behind him on the wood.

Gesturing with his chin to where the bathroom sat just outside of the door, “Ellie skipped out today, there should be enough hot water for you to actually enjoy for the whole time.”

Your hands twiddled at your sides, before shaking your head no. Mostly ignoring the side of the room where he stood, you pulled your shirt over your head as the fabric muffled your words. “I’ll just wait until morning. It’s late.” Not really looking at him, you mindlessly grabbed a sweater of his laying on the bed.

Totally missing the fact that Joel had clearly sat it out for you. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you choose an early shower of a night one.” You missed the furrow of his brows as his grasp on the drawer handles tensed more.

You just shrugged. Sitting on the edge of the bed to change into your own sweatpants you now faced his direction but looked at the floor. You could see he had pushed off of the drawer and made his way to your. You didn’t want to be alone with this whirlwind of unknowable emotions anymore today, you just wanted to sleep.

He’d wait up for you if you showered now. You could sneak out tomorrow morning and come back to shower when the house was empty. Besides, if you did now no question Joel would end up leaned against the sink counter. Ready to take care of the hot pressure of the water pouring down onto a wound he knew you weren’t actually trying to take care of.

Joel hovers when he worries, and for the first time you think you hated it.

Crouching down to look up at you, Joel didn’t touch you this time. Just gave you the space. “You can’t just shut me out, not after I almost lost you.” His jaw was clenched but there was a familiar affection in his eyes that shined more sad than romantic.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, I told you what happened that day I wasn’t lying or keeping anything from you.” Your hands tapping against the sheets beside you. “I just want to let it go.”

This time when Joel grabbed you, it was the side of your jaw with his fingers stretched just barley across your cheek. His tug was firm as he forced you to look at him now leaning over you. His face this time, was much closer to the anger you used to think he only ever showed. “Yeah? Well I can’t. You think I can just let go of the fact that I found you unconscious in a pool of your own blood? The fact that there was a fucking trail of it all over the floor, not even sure you were alive?”

You shut your eyes, the watering feeling coming up to the surface of them as you fisted the sheets in your hands. “I’m not asking you to forget-”

His hold on you gave a purposeful shake to open your eyes. “Good, because I’m not about to anytime soon. I’m not about to just get over having to sit there with Ellie, terrified you were going to wake up...but it wouldn’t be you.”

There was upset in his eyes as well, but masked with a desperate anger. It made your guilt feel worse. The guilt flooding you with shame and reminding you how inadequate you had become. How useless you’d soon be to them, and you were terrified of what you’d do if, or when, he kicked you out of Jackson, out of his life. You felt small as you just whispered out, “I’m sorry.”

His forehead rested against yours, his other hand on your side just hoping you’d touch him back. “Don’t be sorry, just stop pretending I’m not here for you, because I’m never going to stop caring about you so goddamn much. Alright?” His thumbs ran comfortingly over your skin, leaving a starch warmth in their path.

You nodded, fists still clutching the sheets. It always came around to not feeling good enough for him, but now you hated yourself for making him waste this fierce protectiveness on someone who didn’t deserve it. Joel’s hands slipped from your face to plant themselves next to yours. Part of you yearned for his touch back, but the other part wanted to get away from him entirely.

Your heart pounding in your chest, each beat feeling as if it constricted your lungs tighter and tighter. You could hear it in your head, demanding you let the feeling take over but you didn’t want to. Joel had put up with enough of this for one day, why drive him away further.

Whatever Joel found in your eyes, it made him pull back from whatever he was trying to get out of you. Leaning off the bed you felt one hand pull your head in just slightly as he pressed a kiss there, mumbling as he pulled away. “Let’s get you to bed, you need the extra rest.”

You didn’t consider it was referring to how little you were letting your side heal, it to your brain, was him wanting you to sleep off this attitude. So you nodded, and that was the end of that.

Sleep though, brought you a whole other nightmare. Nothing was coherent, it was like your memories were mixed together into one warped event. The burning pain of sharp teeth sinking into you, your arm, your side, the blood that covered you from both. The yelling of what you had done ringing in your ears as a distant sound grew louder and louder behind it.

Once again consumed by terror, it was like flashes of mutated once humans and the clicking that followed. That clicking grew even louder, mixing so harsh with the now indistinguishable yelling that the clicking made you cover your ears but it still consumed you. It yelled into your very head as the agony of the bites felt like it was all over your body, the walls closing in as you were surrounded by the very thing trying to turn you into them.

The only thing that you could see as you sat against the wall was fresh dead. The distant sight of a man draped over his dead wife, and then that very man splayed dead on the floor from your own action. His yells still filling the air and the roaring of the creatures echoed in the air, only to stop suddenly as you lurched awake.

Instantly pushing yourself up against the bed on the palms of your hand, you gasped for air as the sound of blood pumping flowed in your ears. You had been turned away from Joel, almost at the edge of the bed as close to the open air as can be. Briefly you shut your eyes as you worked desperately to taper your frantic breathing silently, the cold air in the room freezing with your sweat covered skin.

Your arms shook with the force it took to hold you up, your jaw clenched so tight you could feel the strain being pulled to it’s limit. You didn’t want to flip over to look at him, you felt too much shame and such sickening guilt you didn’t want to look at anyone. It was too late in the night to slip out of bed.

Joel’s internal clock was atuned to when to be suspicious of sound or movement, he’d wake up and you were not about to explain your painful trembling state. You just lay there once more. Staring out the window you faced at the dark nothingness the angle allowed you to see.

You wondered if you had slipped in and out of sleep without noticing as the sky slowly brightened before your eyes quicker then you expected. You could still hear it, the sounds of your dreams, and all you could think was how little you wanted he or Ellie to see how pathetic you looked.

It was close enough to morning that you knew you could get away without issue. Silently you slinked form the bed and got dressed, barley paying attention to what you were grabbing. As you dropped your shirt over your torso, you looked slightly behind you. Joel’s large frame still peacefully asleep like he deserved to have. You bit the inside of your cheek again, and left, slowly shutting his door behind him.

Luckily the house was still silent. The only stop you made was downing a glass of water before throwing your bag over your shoulder and walking out. That though, did make you stop. Because Ellie was awake and leaning against the railing looking directly at you.

Arms crossed and a hard frown, she wasted no time. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

Your face tensing as you squinted in the growing sunlight, you really needed to find a pair of sunglasses. You nervously readjusted your grip on your bag and shrugged. “I just have a lot to catch up on after-”

Her voice got louder this time. “After what? Ripping your stitches open twice already?” Ellie’s tone was a bit easier to catch then Joel’s. There was an anger in her voice but it was mixed heavily with a waver of genuine upset. “You should be letting it heal before jumping back like nothing happened.”

Her bright eyes bore into yours this time. No trace of anger, just distant desperation. Sighing as you looked down with your eyes shutting briefly, “Ellie,”

“No.” You once again shot up this time brows furrowed as you looked at her. “What happened, it- it wasn’t nothing. I know it wasn’t.” Voice cracking weakly as she consciously or unconsciously grazed her fingers over where you now knew was a healed over brand of teeth.

More guilt set in. Stepping forward you tilted her head up more to your height, “But that’s just it isn’t it? What happened happened, and it turned into nothing. For both of us.” The tension in her body was clear and while you hadn’t known her for as long as Joel, this was still the first time she was distinctly upset about something serious.

“I know there’s Joel, but...” Sighing deeply she let her arms fall to her sides. “It’s different with you. No one but you knows what it feels like, and..”

“It doesn’t feel good.” You knew exactly what she meant. Having to watch the exact same fate fall on person after person and you are silent in the background knowing that never became you. It was eating away at you, but that was the last thing you wanted for her. Your thumb moved to trace over her cheek. “You have me, I promise. It just...getting used to people knowing isn’t easy.”

Ellie nodded. “Joel was the only person who knew that didn’t want something from me.”

The pause in your breathe nudged at a thought you had not too long ago. Mixing what on had told you about the job he took that led him to her, and the mention of places Joel and Ellie had travelled through before arriving here. You looked at her, almost a hopeful look that you knew you didn’t feel.

What exactly did she think those people wanted from her, you wonder. How much did she really know. You wanted to ask Joel, but the last thing you’d ever do to him is push for information about his past. So you settled for a middle ground. Kneeling down to her height more, you made her look you in the eye. “The only thing anyone should want for you, Ellie is to let you feel normal. That’s what Joel wants and it’s what I want for you too. You have me, but this?”

Your own hand reached out to gently hold where you now knew the mark was. “I don’t want this being what defines you. What happened then is important, but so is now. Okay?”

Ellie nodded again. Seemingly backing up a bit to give you room to leave. You gave a nod back before standing up straight and taking a step down the stairs before Ellie called you name.

Turning your body, she stood now in front of the steps, fidgeting as if grappling with a decision she wasn’t sure she wanted to make. Whatever she really wanted, she changed her mind. “Are you going to be late again, tonight?”

You wished she wasn’t getting so attached to you. Your intrusion on their lives felt much more like a leech minute by minute. “I’ll try.” Ellie took that as a final answer. Her eyes lost in thought before going back inside, slamming the door just loud enough you knew Joel had heard it. So you wasted no time and walked away.

You had too much to catch up on, and you were sick of being stuck with your thoughts. The distractions was all you wanted to depend on right now, and to be honest? You really didn’t care if you ripped your stitches open again to do it.

The entire day blurred around you once again, the time that passed feeling like hours were the length of days. It wasn’t even a week since the incident, yet if you were to say what it felt like, you’d say months. People always joked how quickly time passes, but you didn’t experience it the same way.

To you, really ever since that day you had been left to suffocate on the heavy air, die from your wound, or worse, time felt like an eternity. So the day dragged on endlessly. Sometimes the people around you asked what was up with you, but you shrugged it off. You were naturally quiet, so they took it as such and you didn’t want any attention otherwise.

Ignoring it was probably a mistake. During the afternoon, you had hopped up onto a platform to help drag up a heavy box, only to jump down with force. You knew right away what you did, you could feel it. Before joining up with the others, you slowly lifted your shirt just enough to see a trickle of blood.

Rolling your eyes with a sigh, you dropped it back down. It wasn’t much blood, you just wanted to ignore the bite for once. You wish Joel had just finished the job and seared the skin over, but he was adamant and pretty offended that you wanted him to put you through what would basically be torture. “It’s deep and it’s fucking huge, do you know how painful that would be? Even if I did it when you were passed out, that kind of burn would wake you up from the pain and knock you right back out from shock.”

You tried to reason with him, but the conversation ended with Joel raising his hand to interrupt you. “It’s not going to happen. Now or ever.” Pointing at you, the tension radiating from his body. “Don’t ever ask me again.” He stormed out of the room at that point and you never suggested anything like it again.

You figured no one would notice what happened anyways. You had 3 layers on at this point and that’d be enough to cover up whatever blood seeped through your clothes. You did start to wince as the day went on though, but maybe it was deserved.

Meeting up with Joel later on, the stinging reminded you that you deserved to feel this way. Multiple times in the evening you missed his eyes narrowing as he looked you over, but you gave nothing away he could easily detect. It wasn’t until that night did he find anything to confront you with.

It had stopped bleeding by the time you went to sleep, it was just now open and painful. Later you wondered if it was just a normal nightmare would you have been normal enough not to catch his attention, but this time that wasn’t the case.

Sleep paralysis was a new thing to you. You were half aware that it was Joel’s room you were in, but nothing around you looked like it. No it looked like the view on that grimy floor you laid out on as you waited in terror for the infection to take effect. The quiet wind blowing just outside the walls and the scattered movement of the creature reminding you what you were waiting to become.

In the memory you got up eventually, but here you couldn’t. Nothing about you could move. Your body strained and vibrated as every nerve in your body buzzed at their inability to shift even slightly. Every attempt to turn failing.

Your heart started to race as the panic built in your chest rapidly. You didn’t know if it was real or the panic you felt that caused the pressure, the sensation like your chest was being pressed and you couldn’t breathe. Fear filled your veins as you lost sight of knowing you weren’t here but in what was supposed to be a safe place.

The reality forming into a terror that maybe this was it. That this was the final state, would you soon lose yourself or would you be trapped? Always fighting to move your body but instead of being paralyzed on the ground, would you be fighting against the infection doing it for you?

You wanted to scream, but you couldn’t move any of your muscles enough to produce any movement of sound. In the back of your head it felt as if your eyes fluttered, like but nothing around you changed. It just felt like a taunt. The yelling seemed to come back, only quiet and different then before, and you lay there, radically terrified that you couldn’t even turn your head or open your eyes properly to see what was coming.

What did startle you from this hell and pull you up into the real world, was a grasp of hands on your body and a stark voice in your ear. Suddenly you drastically flew up in bed and open your eyes as fast as possible. The deep heavy sensation threatening to pull you back under it’s still spell if you closed them again.

Joel at this point had leaned across the bed with your cheeks cupped in is hands as he spoke softly to you. “Just breathe,” Nodding you slowly started to force yourself to breathe steadily in and out as your heart slowed, and your mind finally tore away from the pull. Joel’s whispers continuing comfort your disjointed thoughts. “Good, that’s good. You’re okay, sweetheart.”

Without looking up at him, both of your hands weakly reached up to grasp at his wrists. Your head sort of tipping down into his hold a little firmer. In the back of your head, you were demanding to pull away and not fall for his endearing protection, to just separate and stop this before he decided he was caring too much for a lost cause.

But your anxiety won out. Looking up at the different kind of terror in his own eyes you wondered just how you looked in that moment before he woke you up. Wondering if the strange fluttering of your eyes wasn’t just a spine tingling figment of your imagination. God how could he even look at you anymore, if he saw such an uncomfortable sight laying out side him?

You tried to whisper, but your voice was weary and your tone not in any way assertive. Just a mumbling, “I’m fine.” Which wasn’t enough for Joel. One hand moved to hold just under your chin to tilt your head up with his thumb, the other fingers finding part of your jaw.

He kissed you perhaps a little more aggressive then he should have for dragging you from a terrifying sleep, but you couldn’t comprehend the kind of worry you continued to put in him by shutting out anything that was happening to you.

His soft lips capturing yours over and over, almost muttering things into your mouth. Pouring words of scare and comfort into how he felt. Joel was always better at showing you how he felt then saying it, he he did it again here.

Your own hands at that point, found a home on his torso. One pressed against his chest while the other grasped at his meaty side and dragged him into you more. Joel in that moment allowed himself to get dragged over top of you, one of his hands pressing your waist into the bed.

It wasn’t until he teased your mouth open further with his tongue, and gently feeling the brush against yours that he tried pulling away. Muttering your name, be pulled back twice when you tried to chase his lips again, each time telling you, “Easy baby,” or shushing you with a gentle “Hey, hey settle down”, while his hands raked over the side of your head soothingly.

He dragged the tip of his nose over the length of yours before pressing a kiss there. Leaning up enough to look you in the eye, his other hand cupping the back of your head to support you as you lifted it slightly to follow. “Joel, please I just-”

His face was set in a firmness as much as you could see in the dark room. “Take it easy for me first.”

You dove in already though, jumping into a water that needed Joel’s touch, his kiss like survival. “Please, I just need you right now. I need you.” Your voice almost pleading with him as you dragged your hands over around his neck, your forehead moving up to press against his. “I don’t want to think about that, I just need-”

Joel nodded, his lips brushing against yours with every move. “You need me sweetheart, is that it? Need my touch to calm you down?” He wasn’t mocking or even teasing. It was a serious tone he asked you in like nothing else mattered. You must have looked pretty terrifying to get this kind of response in the middle of the night.

But you needed it too. So you pleaded yes. “Please. I just need you in me, just for a little while.”

Joel’s breathe was warm on your face as he sighed through his nose. Clearly conflicted in thought for a moment. Pressing one last gentle kiss to your lips, you could feel a fond almost smile breaking onto his face. “A little while, that’s it.” Joel sat up to straddle your legs between him, helping you up enough let you touch him as you needed.

When he went to lift your shirt up, you stopped him instantly. Giving him to chance to even ask, just grasping them with yours and moving them to your bottoms and kissing him more. He dragged them down with relative ease, he was a man that honestly? Didn’t care about taking his time to undress your most private parts. He needed touch, and looking and feeling your bare skin on his, is what he wanted. You pulled his shirt over his head, and greedily felt his chest.

His broad frame always consuming so much of the time you explored him. His broad frame spanned smiles on your small hands, and it seemed to go on forever as they naturally found their way to the soft rounder stomach beneath. Joel once told you that your softness and how much you had of it, made him obsessed. “Sometimes it feels like you’re the only damn thing in this world that isn’t rough or hard.”

He very quickly tossed you onto the couch immediately after when you made a wisecrack about how he didn’t “feel very hard”. That was blatantly untrue and you both knew it.

Even now pressed against your front you could feel his cock hardening with every trace of your fingers or swipe of his tongue against your own. With little warning, Joel yanked you up to straddle his lap as he sat upright on the bed, his knees and calves resting below him as his thick thighs and equally thick cock functioned as your own seat.

You lucked out in the nic of time. The very moment Joel grabbed too close on your waist to your still ripped open stitches, he also ground you down onto his cock. The jump in his arms was followed by a needy gasp that disguised the painful one behind it. You once again wrapped your arms around his neck as he slid his hands down to your hips.

“Spread out for me, sweetheart.” He meant to kneel you back down onto the bed, finding his favourite spot between your legs but you couldn’t risk that. Joel was grabby when he tasted you, and he’d no doubt either push your shirt up too high or grab at it mindlessly.

“No, no no, I just need you in me, please. All of you.” Your hands flying down to his waistband and trying to push it down enough to feel the course hair spread across his pelvis. He sensitive area pulled a shaky moan from him before he kissed you again.

“I need to stretch you open, baby it’s been a while.” He meant it kindly, but you just didn’t want to risk it as insane as you knew it was. When you protested, he pulled you into his bare chest with a hand wrapped behind your back. “You’re a tight fit even after I’ve already fucked you plenty, let me take care of you.”

You needed to distract him. So you took your chance and pulled his waistband down enough to wrap your hand around his cock. He jolted in place and groaned into your shoulder as his head dropped into you. “Fuck,”

Pulling him out into the open air, you worked him over taking advantage of every leak of precum he gave you. For a moment he was lost in you. The sound of the wet skin of his cock you stroked up and down, the tightness of your grip and the steady speed you jerked him forced moans out of him and his arms to tighten around you.

The muscles of those arms impossibly large and all consuming as he luckily held you just above your side. It almost surprised Joel how much just you stroking his cock could work him up. His hips trying to chase your pace as he could feel the tension in his body coiling, but he wanted to take care of you more.

Pulling back from your shoulder he aggressively kissed you, ripping your hands away and positioning your hips to hover just above him. Mumbling into your mouth, Joel still checked in. “Are you sure, sweetheart?”

Nodding against his lips, Joel took your word for it. Every time you were sat in his lap, his cock never eased into you. He sank so deep and it pulled mutters and swears from his gritting teeth. You had covered his cock as much as you could, smearing his own cum over his cock as you stroked him to already get him wet.

You were wet, but you knew not what he would think was acceptable enough. There was a distinct burn that made you hiss out. You could see the instant concern but took advantage of his still somewhat sleepy state. Dropping your head into his neck and shoulder just as he did, you gave a genuine moan from how deep he was and how thick his cock felt snugly inside of you.

You very quickly begun kissing and nibbling at the skin of his neck and Joel’s moans were shameless at the attack of such a sensitive area. His hands with a grip on your hips so tight the bruises already started to bloom in his fingertips shape. Moving you slowly up and down the length of his cock got gasps and whimpers out of you.

The slow pace didn’t last as long as he intended. His cock finding that spot inside of you quickly, the intense pleasure it would spiral you into was something he almost always took advantage of. You grinded into his cock more and more, trying to meet his pace, but Joel was the one yanking your hips up and down.

It was his cock that he thrusted up into you as he pulled you back down with an echoed slap of your thighs against his. That sound that drove him insane, and Joel didn’t quite know why but it only started after he found you. Fucking up into you as the slap of your skin together rang in his ears and harmonized with the moans and whimpers you stuttered out between pleads of his name.

One hand of his snaked down to grasp at your ass as pull your hips even tighter against him just as he sunk his cock as much as he could into your warm, wet pussy. “Oh god,” the gasp bled into his own moaning.

Working you over his cock as he rambled about how good you were, how “so fucking good” you felt around him. Nonsensical muttering about staying inside you forever as his entire body coiled and tightened once more, causing him to sacrifice a steady pounding into quick and breathtaking shallow thrusts. His hips slamming into your own fast, making the air nothing but the moans of each others need, and your skin slapping together so fast that by the time the first slap had faded it was replaced with a newer one once more.

His grip on your ass pushed you into him more, your clit now grazing against the rough hair around his cock. His hair tight in your hands as you whimpered, high pitched and desperate as you could feel the pleasure building as fast as he fucked you.

“I got you, I’ve- fuck- I got you, let me have it, baby. Just let me have it, you can do it, you can cum all over my cock, sweet girl.” His cock against the warm wall inside you that blanked your mind of any thought, a whiteout in your head filled with nothing but your orgasm shattering around him.

“Good, fuck- that’s my fucking girl. Jesus Christ, you feel so fucking good around my cock.” Joel was chasing his own orgasm and he throbbed inside of you, the sensitive brush of hair against your clit not allowing you to really come down. “Gonna let me fill you with my cum? Let me spill inside you?” A question he’s never asked of you before.

You nodded into a gasp, and it didn’t take but a few more thrusts before Joel’s orgasm let go. The unbelievable need it fed you, feeling his warm cum spill inside of you, never really dripping out until he slides his cock out of the tight hold you have around it.

You both held the other as you breathed heavily coming back down. Joel tipped your chin up to look at him with his fingers, cupping it gently enough to pull you into another kiss. You were distracted all right.

Because as he hand smoothed over what he thought was a healing wound, you hissed in pain and there was no slide of his cock inside of you to disguise it.

He pulled away from your lips without hesitating. His eyes narrowing at the guilt you had painted all over you. If it was lighter he might see the very start of another bleed finding it’s way over the fabric of your shirt, but he found it anyways when he yanked it up with one hand, and awkwardly leaned over you to turn his bedside light on with the other.

It was clear they weren’t newly ripped. There was a distinct wear and tear that mocked him for not noticing the issue earlier in the day. The anger he felt looking at the painful memory didn’t last long when he looked back up.

The shame and guilt on you was heartbreakingly distinct. You looked off to the side as your hands shook slightly pulling away from him. Assuming he was mad at you, assuming he didn’t want you touching him anymore.

Whatever complex contemplation you normally thought through stoically was disastrously affected by the curtains being whipped open so soon after he fucked you. Joel took sex with you very seriously, but he also knew you did too. He knew how intense it was for you and his chest lurched seeing how fast those two emotions mixed together and collapsed in front of you.

His jaw clenched briefly, before kissing your nose. “C’mon.” Gesturing his head to the door, “Let’s patch you up before that gets infected.”

If Joel noticed your distinct pause at his word choice, he kept it to himself for now. As quiet as you could, Joel nudged you to take a seat in the washroom as he grabbed the med supplies. Bracing yourself, you hissed out again as you made you way to sit up on the sink counter.

Peeking out the door you could see Ellie’s own bedroom, your thoughts consuming you with something you never considered before. You were at least an adult when you found out, someone supposed to be equipped to handle information like that, despite your current jumble of emotions aside. Ellie is still a child though. You filled with more guilt, wondering just how hard it must be for her to watch others around you fall to a fate they don’t know is impossible for you.

Once Joel came back in, silently shutting the door you were back in your own head. Without even thinking about it, he gracefully pulled your shirt over your head once more, needing broad access to stitch. Your arm resting above your head as Joel coaxed you with warm mumbling every wince or hiss in pain, he noted you more than once glancing back to the door where you had been looking at Ellie’s room. “She needs you more than I think she’s willing to admit.”

You only nodded mildly, but the guilt gathered in your eyes as Joel continued. “We uh, it wasn’t easy getting to this point.” You knew part of things, how they met, where he was supposed to take her, and what happened along the way to change his mind. It wasn’t until a little before getting to Jackson that Joel struggled to speak on, but you did know what he was asked to do was from the Fireflies.

“They thought you’d just hand her over and wouldn’t care.” Joel stopped for a second, his bright eyes looking up at you, but you didn’t return it. “They never tell you why they want you. I only ever met them twice once I knew they found out, but they never tried to kill me straight out. They always wanted to drag me across the country. What they wanted from me was useless if I died before they could get it themselves.”

Joel swallowed heavily, finding his voice wasn’t easy. The waver in his tone, how small it made him appear despite the deep intensity of his tone. “They didn’t tell me what they wanted with her until after I handed her over. Already had to prepped to go on the fucking table like the months I spent with her wouldn’t change a thing. She...I wasn’t going to let that happen.” He focused on your side as he spoke.

The water was freezing as you dipped your toes into it, never wanting to ask about what happened that day but what you knew now had unwillingly connected a few dots. Tossing some things to the side, Joel rested his palms on your thighs, soothing them up and down. If not for you, then for himself. “The hospital.”

Joel’s eyes shined with realization, and you almost knew then exactly. It made sense. You knew about that day with Sarah and you knew about that day as well. Ellie covered in blood after god knows what those degenerates wanted to do to her.

It seemed so weird to you now. You’d only ever known them this way, how unquestioningly the fact of Ellie was his daughter. This protective love that was still forming, both of them navigating their fears. Ellie needing to get used to seeing someone care about her, let alone a father, and not be afraid she’d find herself alone again.

And Joel grappling with becoming a father again, and your sudden understanding that he was right. He’d do anything to protect his family, and Ellie was his daughter. He wasn’t going to let it happen again.

“It was you. The hospital in Salt Lake City.”

Seeing his entire body tense up, you instantly leaned forward, pulling him by the back of his head to rest your foreheads against one another. You had crossed a dangerous border, and it needed to be softened before he let it fester in his mind. His grip on your thighs tightened, as if the feeling was keeping his feet on the ground. He nodded, “Were you-”

Raking your fingers through his hair, Joel’s eyes shut. His face was so soft in moments like this, and you wanted more of them for him. “I didn’t know until Don told me. He uh-” You gulped, hoping to keep the boiling sickness in your stomach at bay. “He was apparently there that day. He mentioned some father killing a bunch of people to get his daughter out before the doctor could cut into her.”

The sick feeling only increased. “I didn’t know they had kids. That they just didn’t give a shit about sacrificing a child for whatever they thought was their purpose.”

It sat strangely with you. The life you had taken, lives you had taken to protect this secret about you. The image of Don, slumped dead on the floor had haunted you more than the memory of him trapping you to die in the first place.

Did you deserve to live for even a sliver chance of saving a life? You didn’t know. Not for you, and it’s torn you apart for days now. That Joel and Ellie’s lives would be easier if you just let them take out, and you never had brought this to their door.

But that’s why Joel let you in. That’s why he refused to let you keep this bottled up, he knew what toxicity was consuming you. “She doesn’t know.” You both lifted your heads at the same time, Joel’s hands moving to your waist this time, his thumb stroking back and forth over the sliver of skin below his handy work. “She was already under when it happened.”

You didn’t need to even say anything. What you thought about it didn’t even matter, because you weren’t the only one with a guilt building up inside of you. Joel’s guilt was a lie, where yours was a regret, but it made you feel all the same.

“She needs to know eventually. It’s a part of both of you.”

You cupped his face in your hands, you both knew what was at risk now. This feeling inside of you, would that also be Ellie? The death around her at the expensive of a procedure neither of you knew much about, but was told it was for the greater good. It wasn’t just that though.

You said it before Joel forced it out, easing his pain. “It’s you lying to her that’ll hurt. She can forgive you for that.” There was a distinct look of distance in your eye, something deeper that even here and now, wasn’t going away. “She’s not the one who has to bear the brunt of what she’s done.”

Joel’s eyes bore into your own, a whirlwind of thoughts and need in them that he poured into your mouth as he leaned in for a kiss. His hands returning your own gesture and grasping at the sides of your face desperately. He knew it wasn’t him you were talking about, but there was no way to grasp the gravity of how you felt.

Ellie is young, and was rescued from a fate she didn’t know she would suffer and wasn’t the one who spilt the bloodshed along the way. Joel’s at risk unlike her, he can’t survive what she can, he understands what he might be giving up when he killed those people.

You can though, and you’re the one who has to face the selfishness of protecting your own life against the slightest possibility of something akin to a cure. Ellie needs to know the truth, but the heavy weight in your chest was something you didn’t want for her.

Joel’s touch was refreshing, but it didn’t take away the conflict toiling your mind about the what if. A fate you refused to let fall to a child, but couldn’t let go for yourself, the painful truth that you just may be hindering a chance of help.

Don wasn’t the first person you killed, and he likely wouldn’t be the last. But it had started something unlike any other time. It started a chain reaction of emotions spiralling out of control and you couldn’t catch your breathe long enough to understand them, let alone say what they felt like. You felt more and more worthless.

Like you were starting to depend too much on others for your own well being, and the constant frustration that you didn’t know why. You haven’t been around people for this long in a few years, and never with a connection like this. How much of this was normal, and how much of it was you burdening Joel with your own interpersonal problems.

Sometime in between the little bit of sleep you managed to get once back in bed, a sprinkle of rain has grown quietly in strength until how it poured down now. A loud heavy stream with clouds bearing above that darkened the afternoon sky.

You had found solace in the steady ting of water against the roof. Many things flashing in your mind, but the focus of the repeating water droplets making any of them indistinguishable as you saw less and less of the present and more seeing into the white noise in your head.

Unbeknownst to you, the amount of time that had passed was enough to draw Ellie over to you as you appeared to be lost in thought, your hand trembling in the air as it hovered above the counter. Interrupting your work in the kitchen with an overtaking buzz of incomprehensible flashes of pain before your eyes.

It just so happened the very same time she called your name did the faint sound of a distinct click mix together and snapped your out of it. All in one fell swoop did the you turn to look at her, and the knife slipping from your hands, and slicing into the underside of your arm before slamming onto the ground.

You didn’t really react at first, the sight of the cut now bleeding didn’t even register with pain, but the splatter from the angle of impact left a splatter on the side of the counter and ground that had Ellie shout, but what you couldn’t really tell.

The only thing that found it’s way through your head was one word. Useless. To be honest the next few seconds you hardly did with any knowledge, as if you were alone once again you moved to clean and cover it, the entire time Ellie beside you, hands hovering trying to find a chance to help you.

It wasn’t until the stinging surged through your veins at all once when you tightened and closed off the cloth wrapping did you snap out of this automatic state. Ellie finally grabbed you saying your name once more, “Are you-” Her blazing eyes darting to the blood still visible behind the wrappings back to the sharp look you gave her. “What the hell happened?”

Confusion and panic was all over her expression, and for a second you almost remembered yourself. But over the sound of the pouring rain out heard the distant shouting of a voice that you just couldn’t take right now.

Later the guilt would set in, but in the moment you felt very little other then the warm burning of your forearm and the constriction of your chest. You couldn’t be here anymore, you had done enough here and the only rational you could come up with was you should leave before being forced too.

Before you knew it, you were slamming the backdoor with a throw as you took off in the rain. Did you run or was your walk just faster then normal? You couldn’t tell, by the time you found yourself with your back leaning against a tree far off from town did the cold air and even colder rain really cover you entirely did the world come rushing back.

You leaned your head forward, closing your eyes as your chest heaved to catch your breathe. The time of year and the rain made your hands stiff with a brisk coolness that shouldn’t have felt good. But you didn’t really care. You found yourself sliding down the length of the tree trunk, and sat with your knees bent in front of you.

With a thonk, your head fell back to rest on the bark. The water soaked the bandage on your arm and you figured it didn’t really matter. It was rain water, nothing dirty or festering with bacteria to make it worse, so you left it uncovered.

For a while you sat there, arm hovering beside you as you stared into the red. You had never felt this way from killing before, not for killing a man who tried to kill you first. What Joel told you meant nothing. Just something to calm you down enough to shut up and go back to sleep. He didn’t want to carry your issues and he shouldn’t, anyways.

Being back on your own felt daunting. A knowing silence that you long forgotten over just months, creeping back to mock you with it’s isolation. You had little understanding of how a relationship was even supposed to work.

Every step of the way with Joel you were guessing. You had hid your immunity from him, because you knew only conflict would follow and look what happened. It was unspoken even to yourself how you felt about Joel.

Something you didn’t know or understand blossoming into a deep emotion that you did in fact have a name for, but a wonder if Joel would return it now was wrapping itself around your throat as it suffocated you to thinking he’d throw you out for who you were.

The sky had grown more dim as the clouds moved on, yet the rain didn’t let up. Moving suddenly you pulled the lighter out of your pocket once more. This time you didn’t taunt yourself with the metallic clink of it’s open and close. You turned it in your hand, eyes a blank vacant stare towards it.

It meant nothing anymore. What happened that day happened, and it doesn’t matter if you hold onto it. Don’s still rotting on a wooden floor next to the corpses of creatures you couldn’t become, and you would always have to face that. Face that your own mortality was dependant on refusing to give it up for a rebel group to cut into looking for the answer to a question they don’t even understand.

Your jaw clenching as you felt the digging of your teeth into your cheek, maybe that was the fate you deserved, just not one you wanted for the only other girl you’d ever known as also like you.

Pushing up from the tree, you leaned forward enough to throw the lighter with a grunt. Watching it disappear into the treeline before your head fell into your arms now resting on your knees.

“Not a bad throw for sitting down.”

You damn near jumped out of your skin. Head whipping to the side to see Joel sitting beside you. The man was too sneaky for his own good sometimes. To the side of him, Ellie stood against another tree at a good enough angle to see both of you.

“How the hell does a man your size get around without anyone noticing?” Joel didn’t laugh but it got a smirk out of Ellie.

“I swear he uses it just to sneak up on me when I start slacking.” You both chuckled quietly at one another, their calm and cavalier attitude putting you at a strange ease without effort.

The deep rumble of Joel’s voice sat snugly into your ear, “Let me see it.”

Your head lulled to the side to watch as he gently grasped your arm, pulling the soaked wrappings away enough to inspect the slash. His face wasn’t in view but Ellie’s was. The sudden panic earlier now replaced with a stoic look you knew spoke volumes more than she wanted it too. Eyes squinting to see it without having the nerve to come closer.

“Needs to be re wrapped now obviously, but it looks good.” The lack of a disappointment in his tone sent you right back into the ever annoying world of confusion.

You wanted to bite back with tone, try and prove yourself, but exhaustion and defeat was all the muttered out. “Used to do it all the time when I travelled by myself. Good to know it’ll come in handy again now, I guess.”

Joel didn’t let go of you but his grip tightened somewhat. “Like hell you’re going anywhere.”

You tried yanking your arm out of his hand, but his strength was as stubborn as his personality. His name slipped out in protest, but he turned to look at you more direct, the view of Ellie side stepping to change her view in the corner of your eye.

“Hey. I need you to sit here, and just listen to me.” Sensing a hesitation, he pulled you in closer with a furrowed brow and eyes burning into yours. “Just let me say what I need to say before anything else. Okay?”

You nodded your head yes. His grip softened in your arm, and the feeling of this thumb trailing over your skin soothed the fading sting.

“We’re not here to change your mind, but we want you to. Whether you can accept it or not, you’re family now. And a family protects the ones they love, period.” His fingers grazed your cheek enough to turn you more to face him. “You try to do everything to prove yourself at every goddamn turn, worried if you even say you need help that’s some sign of weakness. That’s just not the case, sweetheart. You’re allowed to need us, you should need us sometimes, because,”

The half a second pause let Ellie finish his sentence. “Because we need you.”

Fingers sliding from your cheek, Joel still held onto your arm gently as you looked up at Ellie, the stoic slipping down with the rainfall. There was a waver overpowering the noise of the slowing water. “You don’t get to just walk out, just leave us here because you don’t think we care. You just can’t do that.”

She never spoke about this fear of abandonment that festers inside. Likely hardly knew it still existed after almost being dumped as Tommy’s problem when Joel got too scared of caring about her. Now it wasn’t just him she worried about walking out of her life.

Shoulders sagging slightly as the tension washed off, your mouth parted as your eyes met ones threatening to cry. This time Joel let your arm go, as he watched your reach begin to reach them out to Ellie. Only to be thrown backward into the trunk once more as she lunged into your chest.

The hug didn’t last long, but she squeezed with desperation, as you leaned your head into hers. Suddenly being pulled back at the gentle behest of Joel, “Watch her side.”

He was now leaning forward, replacing your hands on her with his. One of his own softly cupping the side of her face with an intensity that only could be read as a reassurance. Wiping her eyes before looking at you, she swiped some excess from her forehead in a thinly veiled act as if it was just the rain.

All three of you knew better. Ellie sat back on her heels, her emotional outburst not something she meant to explode on you with. You winced as you got up slightly on your knees to run your hand over her hair, you could feel Joel’s hands guiding you up, “Easy.”

The grumpy almost glare on her face reminded you of the man next to you. Clearly that was a learned trait of hers, not a hereditary one. Sucking in a deep breathe, you found it in yourself to stop being so afraid to just say what you felt. “I’ve done a lot of hard things to protect my own life over the years, a lot of shit that cost other people theirs. Some of it to get out of the most terrifying shit I’ve ever seen.”

Her eyes peering over to you with a stark understanding. You knew about that day, the vivid description of fear Joel felt seeing her with that horrific expression and a face covered in blood.

“But doing it because of what I am, when people who about it and only want your life for it, that’s a kind of guilt I don’t want for you. The kind of guilt I don’t understand and I don’t know if I ever will. But-” You took a deep breathe and moved to hold the other side of her face. “But you don’t deserve to do it, any of this, alone. And I’m sorry for trying to force you otherwise.”

Ellie nodded, a little too much as she compensated for a stirring of emotion she tried to hold together. All she could get out as a question forcing as little upset as possible, “You’re coming home...right?”

Honestly? It was sweet. Never once has she called your home anything but the place she shared with Joel. You may not know about the amount of times she debates with the man about getting him to just ask you to live there permanently, but you were beginning to feel the sentiment. “Yeah...I am. Can’t miss seeing how many more times you can possibly fail at guitar before you start learning anything, afterall.”

There it was, with a roll of her eyes the toiling anxiety left her in favour of a huffing annoyance. Pushing up onto her feet she mumbled, “Everyone’s got something to say don’t they?”

You and Joel joined her, his arms supporting you as you stood trying not to let a hiss come out with the wince from your side. Before you could start to follow, Joel stepped in front of you with a hand still on your waist. “Wait here a minute, will you?”

You nodded, and watched him pull Ellie over to the side in a conversation to quiet to hear even in the slowing rainfall. Your eyes distracted themselves with the dark leaves now encased in water with your arms wrapped around your front. Relationships confused you.

Speaking of which, you were turned around to face Joel his hand on your hip and the other tilting your chin up to his height. Just as you expected, he didn’t beat around the bush. Just skipping straight to the point. “Anytime something’s almost happened to you, I can barley manage to do anything before you end it all yourself.” Deep brown eyes deep into yours.

“It doesn’t exactly feel that way.” Hands without your permission, begin to find their way onto him. Not brave enough to settle anywhere you typically loved to hold, but palms lightly resting close to his stomach.

Joel shook his head, eyes bright still and a half smirk forming before he pulled your chin close and captured your lips with his. Pulling you in by your hip he deepened the kiss with a trace of his tongue exploring your mouth. Separating you just as you yearned to reciprocate.

Giving a full smile nearing adoration at the sight of your still closed eyes before you regained your senses. “You sure you don’t need glasses?” Your eyebrows raised in a total confused look and he only chuckled in response at it. “Because you are so fucking blind sometimes.”

The warmth in your heart eased from painful to much more relaxing. “I’m still not used to this.” Your hands now closer to a usual spot near his collarbones. “Felling like I depend on someone they way I do you. Worried it makes me just a burden on top of everything you got.”

Kissing your nose, Joel leans in as his mouth teases yours as his words brush against them. “Good. I want you to depend on me sometimes, sweetheart. I sure as hell depend on you. Ellie had to be the one to calm me down when I walked in and saw some blood on the floor and the knife. I damn well knew wasn’t hers.”

His fingers left your chin and pulled you in by the back of your head, this time pulling your hips so your front pressed into his as much as it could before pulling away just as quick. Resting his forehead to yours. “We’re family. We depend on each other, and don’t think for a second I think less of you because you need me sometimes. I’d sure as hell need you if you left.”

Shaking his head he kissed you once more just as you tried to let out an apology, and pulled away just enough “Don’t be.” Before resuming the kiss.

As easy it was for you to fall into his touch, Joel was just as weak. Your lips holding love instead of a panicked urgency the other night, your arms winding around his neck to rake gently through the hair you could reach.

He didn’t really think about it much as he moved you backwards until your back was pushed up against a tree. The collide against the surface sparked something inside him. It wasn’t the time nor the place for this, but too much had happened. It wasn’t just your head that was storming with difficult, painful emotions.

His kiss all consuming, tongue demanding he explore yours as much as he raved, and only pulling way to bite at your lips before starting the process all over again. You had put him through enough, but maybe he deserved a different kind of apology than being left behind.

The second your hands reached the top of his jeans, a needy groan fell from his lips as he changed directions to your neck. His teeth marking it up and down as he soothed each one with a kiss and brush of his tongue. The gentleness doing little good as his ravenous urge to mark you up also traced your skin with his facial hair, leaving a redness on his the harder he bit.

He mumbled into your neck as he felt you undoing his belt, “Fuck, sweetheart, you don’t-” only to be cut off with a moan as you kissed your way up to his ear trailing a path along his neck as well.

“Let me take care of you. For once.” Before kissing the skin just under his ear as you undid the zipper. He leaned into your body as his grip on you no doubt would brighten the fingertip shaped bruises he already left before.

Tugging his jeans just down enough to reach your hand inside your palm brushed against the coarse hair above his cock. Joel captured your lips once more with a bite right off the bat. Grinding his hips forward as you teased your way down with your fingers along the length of his cock. You didn’t have much room, so you traced the thick length down, down, down until you found his tip, stroking over it with a feather like touch.

Joel knew you didn’t have enough room and separated from your lips. Eyes blasting dark and lustful, he raked his eyes up and down your body before snatching your hands, fingers joined together and raised them above your head. “You going to be good?”

A nod was all he needed, to undo your own pants and yank them halfway down your thighs with one strong tug. Hardly giving himself the pleasure of looking at your bareness, he pushed himself back into you as kissed you. Wasting no time as his hand roughly cupped and squeezed your mound.

Smirking at your gasp, the fingers just reaching your entrance teased dipping in before caressing just around where he wanted. The palm of his hand rubbed against your clit roughly until the sensitive bundle had you trembling against him.

When he could take his time with you, Joel would take however long he desired to work you over, open you up and ease you into everything. But now, the warmth and growing wetness made him impatient. In one go he thrusted two thick fingers inside of you, eliciting a gasp of his name as your arms fell down to his shoulders, fisting the fabric there with no remorse for his earlier command.

One of his hands reached for your throat, not restricting it, not even encompassing it, just holding the side of your throat firmly to rub his thumb over the length down to the top of your chest and back up. “Can never fucking listen to me, why do you make me do this, baby?”

His only punishment though, was to thrust into you in tandem with the grinding of his palm into your clit. His fingers seeking the golden spot inside of you and smiling against your skin when you moaned out, hips writhing into his hand. Punishments to Joel meant nothing more than overwhelming you with pleasure.

The coiling in your stomach grew with how wet his thick fingers made you as they slid in and out. The sound of it even heard over the existing rain. But you wanted to make him feel good first, so you’d just have to disobey him a little more to treat him to it. Your hands on his shoulders moved to quick for him to catch it, grabbing at his jeans and pulling them down just enough to pull his cock out.

One hand jumped right in, gathering what was already spilling from his tip and stroking it up and down his length, the other sneaking just a bit more and gently cupping his balls. It was Joel who writhed this time, “Fuck, you-”

You stopped him with a kiss, pulling back just slightly as your hand slid up and down his length slowly, knowing how much it made his cock buzz with need, the other ever so slightly keeping his balls in your hand as you pulled your head back to lean against the tree. “This is supposed to be about you, let me help you, okay?”

His jaw clenched as one hand left him, the other now just holding his cock firmly as you dragged his hand slowly away from you, letting the wetness on his fingers trail up your chest, holding it just above your tits and your other pulling his cock just enough between your legs.

Not letting him in, but between your thighs. His eyes weren’t weak or even a hint of willing to give you control, but he still let you tease him just for now. Dragging his cock just enough to not slide inside you, but coating him with you.

His head looking down to your hold, seeing his cock shining more as it was dragged between your wet folds. Only pulling it away enough to press his hip up against your clit as you continued to stroke his cock. Much easier now, the wet sound almost matching up to what he pulled from you. Only granting you his length, Joel moved a hand to reach behind and grasp your ass tight, and pulling your hips in more, forcing your clit to press up against the tip of his cock.

His hold on your ass let him lift you onto your toes and increase the pressure on your clit and the whimpers that followed were music. Never really giving you control, he pushed his tip into you and pulled back. Never leaving your clit but easing and increasing the pressure against it.

You wanted to focus on stroking his cock, but his other hand on your ass took control. The sensation of his fingers tapping along to the middle, and dragging down before stopping just against where he knows no one has ever touched you.

You gasped his name, but he grinded himself into you more. “Shhh, I got you, sweet girl. You’re okay.” Not quite touching, but hovering over it until you felt you nod against him. “Out loud, baby, please.” Not a demand, but a soft beg of permission.

You nodded with your words this time, “Anything, fuck, anything you want, please just-fuck”, his other hand had overtaken his cock, pressing yours against his hip beside as he dragged his cock from your clit down to your entrance, and back up to continue rubbing it against you, and then dragging back down to slick his cock up more.

If you asked him later, Joel couldn’t tell you what was consuming him right now. He had almost lost you, and how you had the audacity to think he wanted you to leave. It made him almost angry. A burning sensation spreading from his chest all through his limbs. It was something akin to possessive, and he wanted to be easier on you. Ease you into something Joel hadn’t even thought about doing until this very moment. But it was the only thought he could focus on that wouldn’t send him back to memories of blood. So he lost himself in something he didn’t quite understand.

He was gentle behind you, very gentle. A tiny whimper leaving you as his index finger just rested against you, giving the same tiny rubs that he rubbed his tip into your clit with. Your body slightly tense, he only wanted you to feel relaxed. So he kissed you once more, not sparing any time as he opened your mouth up to let him in, keeping you only focused on his touch.

You gasped into his mouth, but Joel recognized that needy pleasure without failure. Joel never pushed his fingers inside, just pressed against you with occasional gentle caresses of the skin around it as if he needed to feel how much you leaned your body into him, or the sounds the teasing pulled from you. Your hands on him dragged all over but you whimpered in need, his name, and a please for more.

His cock now sat heavy against your entrance, threatening to push in if he pulled back enough. But his other hand kept a slow rub. He knew your body scarily well, knowing that if he stopped or slowed too much, that you’d tense up on him, always just on the edge of nervous if he pushed you just a little more.

Always afraid you’d disappoint him somehow no matter how much it frustrated Joel that you couldn’t stop thinking that.

His touch slid back and forth from teasing just outside of you, to a soft knead of the rest of your ass or hip. Not tight, not aggressive, almost soothing. For you, it enough that you leaned forward into his chest, head on his shoulder with one hand raking through his hair. His cock dragged back a bit, and he eased the tip of his cock barley inside you. “Look at me, sweet girl.”

You expected him to be cool and collected, but he was anything but. His eyes dark and blazing with need, his mouth parted sightly and breathing heavy enough you felt it on your cheek. “This-” The stoke pulled a difficult gasp from you, but it was so much, too much but you didn’t want him to stop. You’d beg for more if you thought he’d give it to you but you still tried to explain yourself. “I wanted to make you feel good.”

His teeth clenched as he lid just an inch more of his cock into you, his pace slow as he treasured how well you fit him. “This right here,” once again raking his eyes down you and back up. “You make me feel good.”

Just as his cock slid inside you with a soaked ease, your arms wrapped around his neck as he swore out himself. His cock was always so thick, and it filled you so deeply, but something about this moment weighed on your heart much heavier than ever before.

Joel dragged his cock in and out of you so much that he threatened to slip out every time, his finger no longer teasing your ass, but keeping himself his large hand splayed over the skin of your cheeks he could reach.

The slower pace didn’t pick up, but when he was as deep he could be inside you, Joel would pull out of you less and less. You pulled both sides of his face into you to kiss him.

It was just as deep as everything else he was inside of you, but not fast, not aggressive. He tasted your mouth just as slowly and intimately as his cock slid in and out of your warm walls. His thrusts never sped up, and you never asked him too.

Neither of you kept track how long he has you pressed up against the tree, but it was long enough that the sky turned darker as the sun started to go down and the rain had stopped all together.

Joel’s slow pace dragging right up against your walls, and the every present pressure of his finger deep inside of you, your orgasm built slower this time, but it made your body tingle so much more and you felt desperate at that point.

“Let me have it sweet girl, I want it baby, fuck I want it, you’re so close,” You clenched against his cock and his name fell from your lips, your walls tight around the thick length, your entire body arched in pleasure as he slowly thrusted still, never stopping just sliding in and out of you to drag you along as much as possible. Everything inside of you bursting at once, all you could do was hold on to him.

His hold on your ass and hip tightened, his pace increased as he chased his own orgasm. The feeling of you in such an overwhelming way took over him as he sped up every thrust until he pace had his skin slapped more steady against yours. The sound of your skin against his mixed with the how much he could hear how wet you were around his cock kept his pace faster. Every thrust bringing the sounds to his ears and it didn’t take long until he lost himself.

His teeth clenched and your nails raking through his hair, he pounded a few quick thrusts into you as his orgasm let go with your sweet voice in his ear, and your other hand reaching down to grasp one of his own ass cheeks, just enough to push his hips to sink into you faster.

He fucked you at that pace as he came. He couldn’t not. Last night and now were the only times he’s ever came inside of you and Joel couldn’t tell you why. There was a feral part of his brain that became possessed at how well you let him fuck you. He thought he should have felt bad. He wasn’t actually a possessive man, but there was an unspoken intensity that overrode a part of his brain and left a desperation in it’s wake.

He spilled into you, more and more cum leaving as he kept fucking up into you needing that feeling those sounds as now the wetness mixed with his cum. You moved your hand up to his waist with gentle squeezes as he finally slowed down almost instantly.

Panting, he looked to where he slid in and out of you, seeing with each pull how absolutely coated his cock was. Glistening from you, and covered white with his own cum and slowly pushed it back into you a few times before he stopped.

You gently pressed your lips against his, everything about you felt weak now, but your sanity felt tied to his touch. Joel slowly eased out of you completely, having to look up at your face instead of his cum soaked cock. The tip of his nose rubbed along yours and each of you reached for each other. You tucking him back and doing his jeans and belt back up as he pulled your pants back and rubbed at the skin of your hips he could see from your raised shirt.

Neither of you could say it yet, today was too much, this entire week had been too much. But Joel wasn’t in any doubt. “We work together from now on, you’ve got me, and I’ve got you. That’s all there is too it, sweetheart.”

Maybe it’d get easier with time, your brain was quieter then it had been since a week ago that day, and put the pain at ease, filled only with here and now, and who you have. Guess Joel and Ellie weren’t about to let you go anytime soon, so you’d just have to repay the favour.

You had plenty to work on but you at least had a new flicker of hope that having what could be a family might make it easier to do. You decided not to think about what Ellie didn’t know. Only time would get them there, and at least he had you.

Joel knew he couldn’t keep it from her forever, not did he want to. Maybe in another universe he’d keep it so long she’d find out on her own, and that would tear her away from him more then Joel could bare, but he had you, and you understood not just how he felt about it, but you knew exactly how she felt about it too.

You all had each other and maybe he could make it through when that day comes together.

Ellie was his daughter now, and you helped remind him of how much that means to him. He had been holding back for a while not to say it to you.

It damn near slipped from his mouth the second he lost himself as you came around him. But it wasn’t time, the words meant everything to him, but he suspected they weren’t something anyone has ever said to you in your life. Even before hand, knowing enough about your previous life only made him more careful. Not to say it too fast or at the wrong moment, and to make sure you felt safe and belonging in this family you were all creating together.

As you both made your way back, Joel stopped in place at one point, grabbing you by the hip and turning you to him. He rubbed right below your side as his heart melted at the softest you have looked in days. “You know....right?”

Maybe Joel was along the same lines as you, you realized. Your shoulders rose as you took a deep breathe, taking a step forward. Your hand rubbing along the scruff on his cheek as you gave a tiny chaste kiss, only giving him a nod.

That’s all that was needed for right now. He knew this turmoil inside of you wasn’t gone, but maybe now you’d let him support you in whatever way he could. He knew all to well what letting that pain build up for too long could do to you. It wasn’t something he wanted for anyone.

Joel smiled, and wrapped an arm around you, turning you forward once again to go home. Gracing the top of your head with a kiss, there was another burning question he just couldn’t stop in time from slipping out. “If I ask you to just hurry up and move in already, is that gonna be too much for one day?”

This time you stopped in your tracks, but only long enough to drop your head in a breathe that turned into a laugh. You leaned into his touch. “I’ve got nothing left at my house that I need. Would be a pain to make you bring it all back there now, wouldn’t it?”

“Why would I be the one having to do all the work?” The smirk on your lips all he got back.

You didn’t need to look at him to see his face flat and his eyes roll on cue. “Still got a long way to go with that attitude don’t we?” What you also didn’t need to see to know about was the double meaning to his words. This was more than just about teasing, or the physical part. What happened that day and now meant something more than just a few minor incidents to all three of you.

You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen Joel today the way he was, but maybe it was your fault for letting it build up to this. You knew it wasn’t just Joel pushing your limits for the sake of it. No, tonight was something new for both of you in a much more desperate emotional way. Like he needed you as close as possible and he worked you weak enough to let him.

Sex wasn’t casual for you, and you were lucky Joel didn’t treat it as such. You didn’t know what to say a lot of the time, but he could read your touch like a book and you hoped he knew it was the same for you. Today wasn’t the right time or place, but it was the only thing that grounded you and Joel to the present in almost a week.

It was easier to express things through touch with him sometimes because of that. You both can struggle to open up, and almost losing you, only to have to sit back and watch not knowing how you would wake up. You can’t imagine what that felt like for him, and you’re not sure you want to.

Having something akin to family was unusual, and would take some getting used to going forward. The pain, the memories, the demons toiling in you were still there. This feeling wasn’t going to go away, but maybe now it wouldn’t destroy you for it.

Joel made it clear you can rely on him to be there for you, and you had a feeling he was going to need you in just a matter of time. He’s strong on his own, but you can only handle so much on the inside.

Neither of you knew though, exactly what about that past day would come looking for him.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #pedro pascal x reader

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sysmedsaresexist · 3 months

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im a system trying to learn more about endos.

so far in syscourse ive only seen proof of cdds being traumagenic but they dont disprove non-cdd plurality, so what sources are there that have evidence of endogenic systems, if you have any?

Right now? There isn't any hard evidence that would satisfy anti endos. There's TONS of papers and articles talking about the recent emergence of endogenic systems, but they're mostly interview based. I debunked a lot of them when I was still anti. Small sample sizes, personal bias about dysfunction levels, all interviews. Those won't stand for those who are skeptical.

Now that I've calmed my gender neutral tits, though, I can look at where all this research is heading, and I can look back and find all the different terms that have been used to describe this same phenomenon. Those terms don't fall under psychology, they appear in journals about consciousness and self and philosophy, and they go all the way back to the 1800s, developing right alongside theories on hysteria and split personality, and the TOSD.

I don't need to do the work for you (/nm), just Google multiple self theory and fall down the rabbit hole. Trust me. One Google search, move at your own pace. It'll mean more when you find all this yourself and make the journey on your own. It was way more effective when I went alone.

That said, I'm not heartless.

The most promising research coming out is the tulpa studies.

Tanya Luhrmann and Michael Lifshitz are incredible, but it's Luhrmann who really stole my heart. She has a long list of work on religious communication with God and "others", and was a huge part of putting tulpas, and several other different voice hearing, religious communities into the fmri scanners to see what's going on. The reddit AMA is being passed around now, and it's largely being ignored by antis, without understanding what it was.

The tulpa studies began... shit, 5 years ago? Covid put a hold on the project, but it's back up and running and they're working on the final paper. The AMA was a chance for people to ask questions to the lead researchers about the project, including whether they found anything.

And they did.

The brains of tulpamancers and other practitioners lit up in unexpected areas and outside of conscious control (very basic overview).

Luhrmann also wrote about how this kind of research can help other voice hearers, and could potentially point to some new therapy opportunities for those struggling.

No, Luhrmann and Lifshitz are not dissociative specialists. Endogenic systems have screamed for decades about how they don't have CDDs and we just refuse to listen. This research is occurring in other areas and specialities. They don't need to be dissociative specialists to work fmri machines and see there's something happening.

My hope is that once the final results are published, we'll see some very quick movements comparing CDDs and endogenic systems. We're not there yet, but I think we'll actually have firm answers within the next couple years.

And after looking into other areas of research, and seeing the potential positives, and that they DID see some unexpected things on the scans...

Not to mention that I've spoken with Colin Ross, THE dissociative expert, who in the 1980s, wrote about "endogenous multiplicity," a subsection of those with MPD that had no trauma history, no dysfunction, no amnesia, etc, and he still stands by that to this very day. I've spoken with several other experts. Go look at Jamie Marich on Twitter and see all her colleagues in the notes.

Anti endo is a dying stance.

Learn nuance while you can (CDDs and endogenic plurality are different, occasionally overlapping), and jump ship before it's too late to take the harm back.

Happy googling and good luck!

#syscourse #not syscourse #anti endo #pro endo #system safe #pro syscourse conversation #research #debunk

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faeriekit · 6 months

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Health and Hybrids (XX)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... A LOT of readers google what an "ostomy bag" is! Danny reestablishes his comfort with the Arabic numeral system!

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

The next time Diana comes to visit her charge, her gloves are blue. Her scrubs are a pale pink. She is given a new face mask, and a new hair net, and walks through the double doors without needing to be buzzed in.

Alright. Perhaps the boy is not genuinely “her charge”. Still, he is hers to protect and to keep; although her position is, officially, as security to the medical team working with their young patient, the medical team knows as well as she does that the boy does not genuinely intend harm.

Is he prone to outbursts? Perhaps, but very few of them are powered. It is entirely understandable too, according to the mental health professionals on board the Watchtower: trauma affects how well one comports oneself and how one interprets their environment. They may see things, hear things, or misunderstand things, and believe they are under threat. The circumstance makes for a great deal of residual fear and mistrust.

Diana was once raised amongst communities of women with few untouched by battle fatigue. She recognizes the signs of lost time and of reawoken fear. She understands what battle-weary warriors are truly fighting against.

A doctor and a nurse mumble a greeting as Diana passes by them. “Morning, Wonder Woman.”

“Good evening,” Diana returns, eyes crinkling. One nurse visibly glances out the window—and then smiles, sheepishly, having forgotten their location in space. Time zones on the Watchtower are often…flexible; Diana, however, has only just returned from her day job. “How is the patient?”

A doctor jerks their head towards the monitor. It is only ever left on if no one else is in the room; privacy is key to recovery. The active monitor means that the medical team has left him alone for now. “Take a look. You might have to go kid wrangling again, Ma’am.”

Alright. Diana obliges them.

On the monitor, in little stick-figure form, are three figures, all sitting or crowded around the room’s singular bed. Her patient sits in his little white gown, legs still as ever, as Impulse drapes himself across the bedspread, and Robin (ex-Robin? Third Robin? Doesn’t he have a new name now?) stands at the bedside.

The Speedster wiggles, mouthing out words she can’t hear without a microphone. Robin is focused on something in his hand—a tablet, perhaps? If Impulse is chattering into the air, then Robin is short on answers; her charge, in comparison, looks back and forth between them, likely unable to understand what the two are up to.

Diana’s mask catches her sigh. “Busy, are they?”

“Do you think you can hold the red one down long enough for a refresher on proper PPE usage?” the doctor begs. The question appears to be genuine. “They just zoomed in a little bit ago. We’ve been trying not to disturb them, but without masks and gloves…”

…Her charge was still at risk for possible contamination or infection, as they couldn’t get consistently accurate test results on his immune system. Diana hummed. She could see the problem.

“I shall. Buzz me in, if you will.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

The door clicks open. Diana strides through, unafraid of teenagers or similar ilk, and content with her position as designated scolder.

And, to his credit, the Robin at her charge’s bedside recognizes Diana’s lack of enthusiasm with the situation, and winces with artful precision. Silly boy— as if Diana would believe that any Bat would be ashamed of breaking a rule if they had already chosen to break it. She cannot help but be fond of each Bird’s eccentricities in their own ways. Robin hides the contraband food in his hand behind his back.

Impulse, however, hardly notices her approach, draped over her charge’s casts as he is—a whiteboard in his hand, furiously scribbling away at whatever attempt at communication he has decided to test today. Having met several male teenagers in her recent years, there is a decent chance he has been drawing genitalia as well.

Diana politely coughs into her mask. The gesture is entirely performative. Robin responds by hiding a separate can of energy drink—opened—on the side table behind him, in the hopes of hiding it from view.

Impulse, who failed to notice her arrival, continues to scribble. Occasionally there will be a burst of superspeed, but it will be in contained little bursts. He likely either wants to preserve the marker, or he is taking more care with his attempted art than usual.

Her charge looks up.

His eyes are still a concern—glazed with a green film, they jitter back and forth ever so slightly when he tries to focus on any one object in particular. He hasn’t indicated any discomfort with his eyesight, however, so it hasn’t been addressed beyond documentation.

The crack in his face—from two inches above his white, nebulous hairline and trailing down to his chin—is visible evidence of an injury or gouge of some sort, with new pink skin all around the edges as the only visible sign of inhuman levels of healing. Diana has seen a number of scars, and a number of healed, gaping wounds, but it is occasionally unsettling to set eyes on her charge and see the still-healing brain matter, skull, and inner sinus cavity through a viscous, green, not-quite-organic wound filling material.

There seems to be a consistent rate of healing, though. Diana can only hope that recovery is possible.

“Good afternoon,” Diana greets softly. Her charge’s discolored fingers flex as his face turns to look at her. “Are you well?”

His green-tinged lips part and then come together again. He’s not not paying attention—he listens very well, and has begun to use certain words in English to compensate for his need for communication. That being said, Diana has little idea what he is and is not capable of understanding.

Impulse, however, finally recognizes the newest occupant in the room. “Wonder Woman! Uh—we totally had permission to be here this time! Promise!!” he offers, immediately switching from someone gleeful to see her from someone remembering their misdeeds.

Diana is very lucky that her mask covers her fond smile. If it is her job to be stern today, she ought to live up to the task. “Did you, now?”

Impulse beams sheepishly, and rolls off of the casts of a bemused half-alien boy. “Yes! Remember last time when the nurses all said I could ‘come whenever’ and ‘bring a friend’ and—“

“You were asked to buzz in ahead of time and put on your protective gear?” Diana finishes, wry. Before she is able to scruff him appropriately, however, the superpowered boy is already gone and back—now with an askew hairnet, an upside-down surgical mask, and gloves a size too large for his hands.

“So I did that!” Impulse protests, the mask moving unnaturally over his face. “Look! All dressed up!”

It is a well-intended last minute effort. Alas, it would all be for naught. Diana scoops up a squawking speedster by the nape, and a now-blinded-by-a-misplaced-surgical-mask Robin, and trots them both back to larger medical.

“One moment!” Diana tosses back to her charge, who is, understandably, concerned.

Still. It takes Wonder Woman, two nurses, and a paraprofessional to successfully sanitize and gear up an uncooperative speedster. Robin sulks through the entire process, but capitulates to it with more grace.

Her charge’s green eyes shine and his fingers curl around his few personal possessions as Diana returns to him his companions; she wishes, so dearly, that she could ruffle his pale hair. “All done!”

The teenaged heroes sprawl across his bed just as casually as they had before—if better prepared for their environment. Robin largely gives her charge his space, careful not to impede where he isn’t wanted, but Impulse freely shares affection that her charge, at least, does not visibly deny.

Diana has her own routine to complete. She heads for the intravenous injection bags, pulls out a fresh one, and cracks the seal. After that, it’s shaking to mix the concoction and a fresh replacement.

Impulse grabs one of the toys off of her charge’s side table and brings it into his lap. The board is tilted, and all the slotted-in pieces fall out. He spends some time sorting them by shape, and then by color, until her charge lifts trembling fingers to pick them up, very carefully, one by one.

She’s impressed. His pincer grasp recovery has not been consistently smooth sailing. “Excellent work,” she praises.

Robin looks up from his tablet. Impulse looks back at her and beams. Her charge gives her a brief look, observes that she doesn’t need anything from him at the moment, and gets back to sorting the little pieces back into their allotted slot.

Impulse rests his chin on the steel arm bar of her charge’s cot. The pose seems…uncomfortable. “Hey, Tim. He got them all right.”

Timothy Robin taps away at his tablet—no doubt taking down documentation of his own. Diana can’t help but feel affection; every Bat and every Bird is so nosy, but if she wants to actually see those notes on her charge, she will have to press Batman for them with a reasonably-sized threat.

“Really?” Robin asks, eyes on the screen. “Do you think the pieces were matched based on color, or actual understanding of the numerical system?”

Diana looks down, line in her hand as she reconnects the intravenous bag. The toy in her charge’s lap is a mock clock face. Each of the numbers is printed onto the removable piece, in different cut-out shapes, and painted different colors.

The atmosphere changes. The air itself tastes different—something like electricity sparks on her tongue. And then it’s gone.

“No, he’s looking to put the clock face back in order, specifically,” Impulse confirms. Ah. Speedforce. Diana should have been able to recognize the feeling by now. “He’s kind of annoyed, actually. It’s like a baby toy.”

“Well, it is a baby toy.” Robin taps away.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s annoying. He knows he should be able to do it.”

Impulse buzzes again, and her charge hums, stuffing his flat hand between the board and the sheet until he can tip it over without grabbing at it. He repeats the same process, the only difficulty stemming from his shaking grip and his shaking eyes.

The urge to pull him close and pet his hair is understandable, Diana reminds herself, but not conducive to his long-term comfort. She smiles at him, as best as she can behind a surgical mask, and discreetly checks his drainage bags to see if they need replacing while she’s already close.

“All’s well,” she declares at last, finished with anything that isn’t social. Thankfully, having two teenagers in the room takes care of her charge’s most frequent issue—boredom. She claps her hands together, and her charge looks up at her, eyes vibrating. “Do you require anything?”

Her charge looks at her. Her charge looks at his friend. “Ouatair?” he tries to enunciate, tongue thick against the green-filled split in his hard palate. “Pleese?”

“Ithinkhewantssomewater,” Impulse rushes to translate, but Diana already knows this request. The water provided is chilled in a refrigerator, and it takes no time for her to find sanitized cup and straw—steel, so as to be safe when dropped, and relatively uncrushable, with a handle for simple gripping.

She presents it to him grip-first. His expression is grateful, and frustrated. No warrior wishes to be in the position of needing constant. Diana can understand the wish to do things on his own.

“Soon,” Diana offers, voice a whisper. “You’re already better off than before.”

Her charge grumbles into his cup. His tongue, half-green, finds the straw for him; he chomps down on the straw, slurps as loudly as he can, and sulks.

Teenagers. Diana finds herself unable to understand how Bruce has so many of them, and understands perfectly well how easy it is to take on a child in need and make them your own.

The cup goes back onto the side-table, half-empty.

“Hey,” Robin starts again. He puts his tablet to the side. The white board is pulled out of Impulse's hands and goes onto her charge's lap, and with only a little whining. “How’s this?”

Her charge mumbles something neutral. His eyebrows scrunch together, but he takes the offered blue marker from Impulse and lets the boy uncap it for him.

“Yeah, it’s more adult or whatever,” Impulse encourages. Her charge sticks out a green-mottled tongue, but takes the marker to the white board and writes. Robin peers over his shoulder to watch. “It’s just the alphabet. A, B, C, D~!”

Her charge hums the tune back to him, continuing seamlessly where Impulse left off. The teen hero beams.

Diana stills.

“Yeah, you got it!” Impulse encourages, and peeks over the edge of the board to see her charge hard at work. His letters are wobbly, certainly, and there are some that he misses, but the alphabet song is a longstanding English-language tradition. He know it. He knows it by rote.

“You missed the ampersand,” Impulse points out. Her charge scowls through the fissure in his face.

…There is no reason for Diana to get excited. Yet. Robin-the-former is already jotting down his own notes, pleased with his observations. There are many reasons and many ways this teenager might have picked up the song. J’onn famously picked up on Earth’s radiowaves before being transported to Earth; this could be further evidence that her charge has some connection to Earth, or it could be a connection to something more bizarre and unusual.

There is no shortage of unusual events these days.

And, of course, Diana runs out of things to do. She smooths down her charge’s blanket, which he hardly notices in his frustration. She refills his water. She is tempted to go grab her copy of The Art of War from her bag in the other room, which she has read before, but which she is rereading at behest of Bruce’s newest initiative: Tactical Book Club. She is optimistic about the opportunities for further education this will provide her comrades-in-arms, if not underwhelmed by the reading material. As long as the teenage heroes are in the room, Diana is obligated to remain with them, in the event that the danger level might…fluctuate. A book would give at least the semblance of privacy to the three.

Her charge makes a noise. “Hay!”

Diana looks up. In shaky hands, resting on his lap, he holds up a largely complete alphabet. There are one or two shaky letters—thorn, which is fairly common, and eth, perhaps less so—but otherwise carefully drawn, very neatly done.

“Excellently done,” Diana praises. The alphabet is a triumph of the physical work it takes to heal.

Her charge beams through his craggy face, buzzing with delight.

"I dunno," Impulse teases, upside down on her charge's legs. "They're kinda wonky."

The boy's face scrunches, smears the color away with a swipe of his arm, and draws something else.

The board shakes with his exertion as he lifts it back into place on his lap, and Diana allows herself to sigh, audibly; sure enough, as she had expected, there is a misshapen, blue, cartoon representation of a penis.

Robin full-on cackles with surprise, but Impulse falls of the bed with laughter.

Unfortunately, it is now Diana's job to figure out how to scold a teenager, and one who speaks no known language besides. Based on the resulting expressions she earns, Diana is unsure if the scolding works, but. Well.

...She tried.

#teenage shenanigans triumph over adversity #even trauma. Even pain. Even horror.#ALSO we finally get an outside POV on his FACE #Danny's body is perhaps a little more fucked up than he knows #health and hybrids #danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #tw gore #tw medical #tw body horror #dcu crossover

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