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lloydskywalkers · 2 months ago

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three sword style

Or, Lloyd and his evolving relationship with what it means to choose a weapon, as supervised by Kai. listen I know Wu technically gives them all their new weapons in season 11 according to some random book referenced in the ninjago wiki (or at least Lloyd’s sword) but you know who ACTUALLY has a degree in making weapons and canonically has made a golden sword SO. My canon now. (also spot the brain rot I infected myself with in the title)

Lloyd grows up in a world of weaponry and at the speed of light.

There are worse ways to grow up, maybe. There are also better ones — one where kids get to grow up instead blasting into teenager-hood in the span of seconds — but Lloyd doesn’t like to complain about where he’s ended up.

Second to the speed of light thing, though, the weapons part is pretty big.

Weapons determine the single biggest turning point in his life, after all. It’s the Golden Weapons that make him the Green Ninja, a title that’s a lot more important than Lloyd’s ever been. It’s also that particular title that makes Lloyd the weapon, so that’s fun. Ninjago’s prophesied emergency failsafe, the Green Ninja — that’s him.

On a nicer note, it’s the Fangblade that gets him a big brother, and proves that there’s someone out there who cares about Lloyd over some stupid weapon, so hah.

Getting back to the point, though—

Weapons. Lloyd’s been making do without one, and he’s been making pretty good do, thank you very much. He’s got his power, and he’s got himself. That’s all the weapon Lloyd needs.

But no one else seems to agree, and since ninety percent of the time whatever prophecy-of-doom crops up this month involves cursed weaponry of some sort, they all figure it’s a good a reason as any to stick Lloyd with a reliable weapon.

And while wielding all the elements is one thing, wielding every kind of weapon at once would be kind of difficult, even for his dad.

So Lloyd finally gets an actual, for-real, decision that he gets to make all by himself.

It’s a monumentous occasion — and yes, that is a word, Nya, Lloyd knows some stuff — so if Lloyd was smart he’d treasure it and take his time.

With that in mind, it takes all of thirty seconds for Lloyd to choose. This is only mildly insulting to some parties.

“Fine, sure, go with the most basic pick in the world,” Jay scoffs. “Swords. Boring.”

“Sounds like you’re just jealous,” Kai shoots back.

“Jealous of swords? Please. I just thought Lloyd was a little more creative than that.”

“I like swords,” Lloyd says, at a loss.

“Jay is only relieved that no one will one-up his nunchuck expertise, now,” Zane smiles.

Jay sputters indignantly. “No one’s one-upping me, I’m the best there is!”

“Uh-huh,” Cole shakes his head. “Well, if that’s what Lloyd wants, that’s the end of it.” His mouth quirks. “Means more training time for Kai, anyways.”

“More training to be better than you,” Kai retorts.

“Like the rest of you, Lloyd will continue to work toward mastering at least the basics of any weapon,” Sensei Wu sighs. “A ninja confined to one weapon alone—”

“Is a dead ninja,” Jay nods.

Sensei Wu cuts his eyes at him. “That is not how I was going to finish.”

“The point stands though, right?”

“The point,” Sensei Wu pinches the bridge of his nose. “Is that while Lloyd will continue to train with all of you, focusing on swordsmanship will become the priority. So yes, in a way. More training for Kai.”

Lloyd rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry…?”

“Why are you sorry?” Kai beams, more proud than smug. “I finally get an official katana apprentice. We’re gonna be awesome.”

And that alone, Lloyd thinks, makes it worth all the complaining.

“Great,” Jay throws his arms up. “Now we’re stuck with two slice ‘em dice ‘em ninjas.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Cole says. “It’s Kai, how dangerous can he be.”

“I resent that,” Kai says. “Just because you beat me once or twice—”

“Try thirteen times, and counting.”

“—it does not mean I’m not as dangerous as you,” Kai narrows his eyes.

“Oh yeah? Wanna prove it?”

“Bring it on, rock man.”

“Not in the kitchen, for FSM’s sake—“

Whether or not Cole beats him (which he does, pretty badly, because Cole is kinda terrifying like that) Lloyd knows that to some degree, Kai is dangerous. Very dangerous, with or without his swords.

It’s hard to think of Kai like that, though. When Lloyd thinks of Kai, he thinks of warm arms wrapped tight around him in the Fire Temple. Thinks of the first hugs he’s gotten from someone other than his father that felt like home. Thinks of protection — thinks safe. Thinks family.

He’s wanted to be like Kai for a while, now. So yeah. It’s an easy choice.

Plus, swords are way cool.

______

Kai starts training him in Dareth’s dojo. It takes about a week for them to get banished to the roof of their apartment, which is mostly Lloyd’s fault — but Kai’s the one supposed to be teaching him, so he can take the blame this time.

…well, maybe Lloyd’s the one who keeps losing his grip on the katana, but that’s not quite his fault, either.

Kai is better than basically any swordsman on this side of Ninjago in years, if not all Ninjago. Lloyd knows this because Uncle Wu told him so, and because Kai wipes the floor with him the first, second, and twenty-ninth time they spar.

“The point is to keep your grip on the katana, you know,” Kai says, as Lloyd retrieves his sword from where it went flying (again). “What kind of hold it that supposed to be, butterfingers deluxe?”

“You said not to grip it too tight,” Lloyd complains.

Kai rolls his eyes. “Yeah, ‘cause you had it in a death hold. I didn’t say, ‘let go and let it fly’.”

“I didn’t let it fly, you knocked it out of my hand!”

“Aha, so you’re admitting I won. Again.”

“N-no!” Lloyd protests. “I’m just warming up. I’ll show you this time.”

But as Kai takes his stance again, his own katana held with a kind of grace Lloyd has zero idea how to ever accomplish, Lloyd thinks he might be a bit of a lost cause.

It’s difficult, because every time he goes to swing his sword, his power thrums in his blood, in his hands, always ready to lash out. It’s quickly become a habit, to start every fight slinging green blasts around. Lloyd’s already grown fond of the little bell-like sounds his power makes, the steady pulse as bright green builds in his palms.

Lloyd is the Green Ninja, after all. His power is what makes him, well, him. He’s his own best weapon — he’s the one the prophecy needs to make things right.

Kai keeps putting weapons in his hands, anyways.

Training katanas, mostly. He got to hold the Sword of Fire once, before his dad took it. It was beautiful — Lloyd kinda gets why Kai’s so up in arms about it getting stolen.

That and the whole don’t-give-Garmadon-the-Golden-Weapons thing.

Kai seems confused that Lloyd remembers it, which is weird because the Golden Weapons are kind of a big deal, but Lloyd decides to chalk it up to all the other weirdness in his life.

The first true katana Kai ever gives Lloyd is…not quite as cool as the Sword of Fire, and definitely not as beautiful, but in a way that Lloyd likes.

“We’re kinda short on weapons,” Kai admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “And I don’t exactly have access to smithing equipment right now, which means you’re stuck with one of my old ones. Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Lloyd adjusts his hands around the hilt, taking an experimental swing. “This is a great sword!”

“Yeah, okay, liar — and don’t swing it around like that, you look like you’re waving a pool noodle.”

Kai grabs his hands, forcing Lloyd’s arms to hold steady.

“Like this, okay?” Kai says. “We’re gonna start by practicing single movements.”

“Aw,” Lloyd visibly wilts. “More katas? I thought I was gonna get to learn some cool moves.”

“This is a cool move. If you’re good, you finish things in one hit,” Kai says. “One strike, and the fight’s over.”

“Like a headshot,” Lloyd nods.

“No,” Kai rolls his eyes. “This is not a video game. This is a real sword, and you’re going to learn to use it right.”

“And then we can do the cool moves?”

Kai narrows his eyes. “Do your katas or I’m firing you.”

Lloyd sticks his tongue out at him. “You can’t fire me. I’m the Green Ninja.”

“Yeah? I’ll demote you to Green Washer-of-Dishes for the rest of the month.”

“No! You can’t, Nya and I have a deal!”

Jokes aside, Lloyd is sure to remind Kai, as he scrubs dishes and Kai dries them, that he does take training seriously.

He takes all his training seriously. It’s kind of his only job.

Lloyd practices hits until his knuckles split and scab, masters high kicks with shins colored violent blues and purples, forms green starbursts in his hands until his fingers crack and bleed.

When his palms blister from the sword hilt on top of it all, Kai makes him hold still until he’s wrapped the first-aid bandage around his hands at least five times, then shoves his old gloves on him when he starts to form calluses.

He wants to argue that he doesn’t need them, but Lloyd still wears the gloves everyday and tucks them away each night, storing them with the other few, treasured things he’s been gifted.

______

The longer he trains with swords, the more Lloyd gains calluses and nicked fingers and perpetually smells a little like cloves.

That last part Lloyd enjoys, though he’ll never admit it. He’s not about to go and tell people he enjoys cleaning stuff, no thanks.

But there’s something nice about helping Kai take care of the katanas, in a relaxing sort of way. The wood-smoke tang of cloves smells like home, which Lloyd treasures, because home isn’t something he’s very used to.

Treasures is probably an understatement. Lloyd latches onto it like he’s starving. Part of it’s because this is something he gets to have with Kai, all by himself. He’s never had something like that before, either — a special thing that’s shared just with him.

Well, maybe besides the green gi, but the Green Ninja is something that belongs to everyone. Whatever Lloyd does when he puts the green gi on is everyone’s business, since it determines the fate of the world or something like that, and it doesn’t really even feel like his. Not yet, at least.

But sitting cross-legged in the weapons room while Kai teaches him how to clean katanas without damaging them — that belongs to Lloyd.

He learns a lot with it too, because Kai always starts rambling about ten minutes in — not the confident, cocky way he does sometimes in front of everyone else, but in an honest way that Lloyd isn’t entirely sure he even means to be.

“—not the best oil, but it works when you’re in a pinch. S’what my parents left behind, at the shop, so it’s good enough.”

Lloyd looks up at him, curious. He keeps quiet — Kai and Nya don’t talk much about their parents, if at all. Lloyd gets it, of course, but it makes the little tidbits they share valuable.

“I don’t remember a lot about my parents,” Kai continues. “But I remember some things. About my dad. He was a great smith, I know that much. Could make about anything. Swords were his favorite, though.”

Uncle Wu’s candlelight casts Kai’s eyes with a glow that makes it seem like he’s on fire himself, flickering and fading. He looks very far away, all of the sudden, and Lloyd has the urge to grab for his arm and make him stay here.

“Guess I latched onto that,” Kai smiles ruefully, and he’s back again. “Never could reach his level, but I learned how to make an okay sword.”

Lloyd chews on his lip. He knows all about latching on to your parents — wanting to be great at the things they are.

That maybe, if you’re good enough, they’ll be proud enough to come back.

He doesn’t think that’s a happy thing to say, though, so he tells Kai instead, “I think your swords are great.”

Kai’s lips quirk. “Uh-huh. Then you better treat them like it.”

“I do,” Lloyd protests. He gestures at the katana across his lap. “See? I did it perfect this time.”

Kai nods his head at a spot Lloyd noticeably missed. He flushes.

“Almost perfect.”

“Practice, young student,” Kai says, in a gravely voice that’s probably supposed to sound like Uncle Wu. “A thousand hours of practice for you.”

“Ugh,” Lloyd groans. “All I do is practice. Practice practice practice, and then I’m still not enou—”

He cuts off. Oops. Maybe Kai’s honestly is a little too contagious.

Kai goes quiet, hands stilling on the katana. There’s a deep furrow between his eyes as he stares at Lloyd, in a way that makes him feel a little like a bug under a microscope. Or that Kai can see right through him, which is bad, because all Lloyd’s got in him is a bunch of tangled thoughts and worries and nothing an actual ninja should have.

“You know,” he says, carefully. “We probably need to stock up on the good oil. I’m kinda running low.”

Lloyd knows darn well Kai has enough choji oil to get them through an apocalypse.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Kai nods. “If we go now, we can probably hit the convenience store, too. Get a sugar boost before—”

“I’m in!” Lloyd shoots to his feet before he can stop himself, any protests forgotten. Training has included a healthy diet lately, so Lloyd doesn’t collapse and pass out because his blood’s eighty percent sugar — Zane’s words, not his.

If he needs to get his blood sugar up, why can’t he just eat sugar all the time? It makes no sense.

“Do not tell the others,” Kai hisses, as they make their way into the city. “Especially Cole, if you don’t wanna lose your sweets before you can take a bite. We’re just getting polish for katanas, as far as you know.”

“I know nothing,” Lloyd says obediently. “Hey, do you think we could use olive oil on the katanas?”

Kai’s stare could heat iron. “I’ll kill you.”

“It was a joke! A joke, heh.”

______

For all that Lloyd’s life revolves around training to defeat anyone and everyone, the guys are still weirdly protective. Over anyone and everyone, including Lloyd himself.

“C’mon, I can handle the cool attacks,” Lloyd complains, as Kai drags him into place.

“They’re not cool — okay, they’re kinda cool — but that’s not what we’re learning now,” Kai sighs. “You’re learning Aikido. Well, a form of it, technically. It’s focused on defending yourself, but in a way that lessens the chances of injuring your attacker.”

Lloyd frowns. “Isn’t that counterintoo — counterintuitive?”

“Big words today,” Kai mutters. He shakes his head. “And it’s counterproductive, by the way, but — no,�� because now that we’re training, half your attackers are us, and I’d like to leave practice with my arms intact.”

Lloyd grins. “So you’re admitting I’m better than you.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Kai says pointedly.

“Don’t need to. You’ve already admitted defeat.”

“And, brat—” Lloyd yelps as Kai digs his knuckles into his hair. “Defending yourself is incredibly important.”

As they settle back into position, Kai pauses, a muscle in his jaw working. He looks as if he’s having an internal argument with himself, before finally sighing.

“The thing about any weapon, but especially swords,” he says, correcting Lloyd’s grip on the katana. “Is that they can be used a lot of ways. But the one thing you never, ever want to forget—”

And Kai’s tone grows serious, his jaw tensing again. “Is that they can kill.”

Lloyd looks down, to the sharp edges of the blade. It suddenly feels a bit heavier, and the room just a bit darker.

“The way we’re training you, the way we were trained, we don’t always — we try to avoid it.” Kai’s voice wavers, and for a moment, Lloyd remembers that Kai isn’t all that much older than he is.

Well, now, especially.

“But sometimes, it’s…you don’t really…well.” He lets out a breath. “This is a sword. It can take a life really quick, if you aren’t careful. And sometimes, you don’t get the choice to be careful or not.”

Lloyd swallows. He hasn’t thought about it much — hasn’t wanted to, but it lives in his mind like a terrible itch he can’t get rid of.

He’s no stranger to the idea of killing someone. Darkley’s was blunt as it was cold. But as a ninja, it’s suddenly realer than it ever was in school.

As the Green Ninja, with his destiny drawn out in front of him, it’s pretty much unavoidable.

He’s going to kill his father, or he’s going to die.

Kai’s hands grab tight around his shoulders. “We’re gonna do everything we can to make sure you don’t end up in that situation, okay?” He gives Lloyd a small, strained smile. “Don’t ever feel like you have to change who you are, just ‘cause you’re a ninja now.”

How do you know who I am, Lloyd wants to ask. How do you know I’m not a murderer? How do you know I’m not awful?

Kai’s eyes are impossibly kind and far, far too knowing.

“But,” and his tone grows serious again. “If it’s your life or theirs.”

Lloyd feels a bit like the oxygen’s been sucked out of the room.

“Promise me. You have to promise — you will always, always choose your own.”

Lloyd stares back. Kai gives him a little shake.

“You promise me?”

Finally, as if moved by puppet strings, Lloyd nods.

“I promise,” he rasps.

Kai looks relieved, but it’s not quite in a happy way. “As long as you come back alive, that’s what matters. I don’t care what else happens — you come back alive, and we’re good.”

“Okay,” Lloyd says. His eyes feel wet. It’s strange, someone caring so much about something like that.

“Which is why,” Kai says, finally stepping back as his tone lightens. “You’re gonna nail that block this time. Or I’m making you polish every weapon in the dojo again.”

“Oh, no,” Lloyd stares at him in horror. “I’ve been practicing that stupid move for hours!”

“And you’ll be cleaning weapons for hours if you don’t get it.”

“You suck,” Lloyd grumbles. “Worst teacher of all time.”

“Uh-huh,” Kai claps him on the back, and Lloyd lets out his own sigh of relief at the lightened atmosphere. “You’re the one that picked swords, buddy.”

______

Kai’s a hypocrite, though, and Lloyd could hate him for it, because as they slide down the snowy mountain-side, Lloyd’s body clashing against his family in ways he’d never, ever let it if he had control, he has to watch as Kai — again — chooses a life other than his own.

Because Kai doesn’t have the experience Morro does, but he’s better with a sword, he’s better than anyone Lloyd knows, and he loses. And Lloyd’s arm drags the Sword of Sanctuary up and Kai is a stupid, stupid, stupid hypocrite—

Lloyd’s angry enough that tearing control back from Morro is easy.

He knows a thing or two about swords himself, and Morro’s holding it wrong, anyways.

______

Training had already taken a hit after they lose Zane, for obvious reasons. Everything had taken a hit after they lost Zane, and between the tournament and Morro and everything else Lloyd’s pointedly ignoring, it’s suddenly been ages since he’s had a proper sword lesson.

Kai decides to make up for it by finally teaching him the fun stuff.

“Don’t — call it that in front of Cole,” Kai grunts over the loud screech of metal on metal. His knee bends, just the slightest tell—

Lloyd falls back, dancing away from Kai’s returning strike. He knows now, just how dangerous Kai can be — he’d like to forget it, but it’d be doing him a disservice.

Besides, Lloyd’s had his body dragged left and right over Ninjago, used as the worst kind of weapon to hurt the people he loves, and they still trust him. Being on the dangerous end of Chen’s stupid staff is nothing to being on the dangerous end of a katana Kai’s made himself, and Lloyd’s determined to hold onto the faith he’s had since that day in the volcano.

Kai won’t hurt him.

He’ll kick his ass in training, though, so Lloyd had better get back with the show.

He retaliates with a feint to the right — too obvious for Kai, but enough to steal his attention for Lloyd to land a high kick to his side.

“Watch that,” Kai scolds, forced two steps backs.

“Why?” Lloyd grins over the edge of Kai’s blade as he catches his blow dead-on. “Scared I’m gonna beat you too soon?”

Kai snorts. “You aren’t beating me at all, shortstack—”

“Not short—”

“And,” Kai’s katana moves so fast Lloyd barely manages to dodge, rolling into a somersault before surging back up to meet his backstrike. “You’re advertising your weak point.”

Lloyd frowns. “S’not a weak point.”

Kai’s katana flashes — Lloyd moves right just before he realizes it’s a feint, cursing himself — then the hilt of his katana is smacking hard against a bone in his right ankle.

There’s a hot flash of pain as his body completely betrays him, his ankle buckling and sending him stumbling with a yelp.

Kai’s expression isn’t gloating, at least. On the downside, he has that sad kind of look that usually means he’s feeling guilty.

“It’s not usually that bad,” he tries, even as his cheeks flare hot.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kai shakes his head. “You need to protect that. Make sure no one knows it’s a weak point but you. Putting it in reach of your opponent is a bad way to do that.”

Lloyd grits his teeth, but he knows Kai’s right. He’ll never regret pushing himself the way he did, clambering up the tower steps on a broken ankle. The fate of Ninjago was a lot heavier on his shoulders than any thoughts of consequences.

It still sucks, that it’ll never heal quite right.

But it isn’t like he’s the only one with an old wound turned weak spot, he reminds himself, as he wraps his aching ankle once again. Jay’s got zig-zagging lightning scars all down his arms that ache during heavy rain. Nya can only rotate her arm so far before her shoulder goes numb, a souvenir from a broken arm. Cole’s the worst, maybe, with how he’s strained himself lifting impossibly heavy weights, fractured fingers and broken bones that throb in the cold.

Kai’s got his own share of weaknesses, though he works hard to hide them. Lloyd’s managed to pick out most — some of them he’s helped treat himself.

He doesn’t like to think about those times, though.

“So I’ve got an idea for a move,” Kai grins at him, once Lloyd’s ankle is stable. “It’s gonna take some timing, but since I don’t have a weak spot there — you’re gonna run and launch.”

Lloyd tilts his head. “Launch off your right ankle?”

“No,” Kai rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna go down for a handspring. When my legs are low, you’re gonna jump on, so when I shoot up—”

“Ooh, I go flying,” Lloyd concludes.

“Exactly.”

“Let’s do it! I’m gonna look so cool—”

“Okay, but we’re gonna look stupid as it gets if we don’t get the — timing, timing!”

It takes about five tries to get it right. That’s all they agree on admitting to — the less said about the forgotten sixth and seventh tries, the better.

But on try eight, Lloyd finally feels his left and right foot connect with Kai’s just as he hits the lowest point of the handspring — and this time, he remembers to bend his own knees and launch up, and with a sudden weightlessness, he’s flying.

“Slash, slash, don’t forget to slash!”

Years of training are the only reason Lloyd’s able to get his arms to obey him fast enough, the wind-up pulling on his shoulders before he sweeps the katana down, slashing out—

“Yes!” Kai’s cheer abruptly turns to a yelp as he loses his balance, crumpling to the floor. Lloyd’s already sprawled across the training mats, since landing was a whole lot harder than he’d planned for — but the training dummy is cut in half. One perfect hit.

“Now, if we can just manage that in an actual fight, we’ll look awesome,” Kai grins.

Lloyd glances at him. “Are you gonna fall flat on your face then, too?”

Red stains his cheeks. “No,” Kai sputters. “That was — you didn’t see that.”

“Uh-huh,” Lloyd snorts. He tilts his head, considering the unfortunate training dummy. “Y’know, I bet I can manage a flip in there,” he mutters.

Kai shrugs. “Yeah, probably.” He lips quirk up. “It’d look pretty cool. Y’know what, let’s go for it. I wanna see the look on Jay’s face when you flip down on him during sparring.”

______

It takes Kai all of ten minutes into the next fight to start regretting that one.

“Got a runner!” Jay calls, as one of the thugs they’ve been rounding up breaks loose from where Zane’s kindly explaining the terms of surrender and Cole’s standing with his lava punch ready to show them what happens if they don’t agree.

“I got ‘im!” Lloyd calls, darting after the masked man.

He tugs his katana free from its sheathe, mind already racing. The time spent on his own, guarding his own back, gave Lloyd the rare opportunity to learn things in ways the guys probably would’ve had his head for.

With the lessons Kai’s drilled into him, the steady form of swordsmanship driven into his nerves, Lloyd’s found a creativity in tweaking things to match his style.

So when the thug sprints past a number of abandoned boxes, scrabbling as he narrowly avoids stumbling on the concrete, Lloyd’s already got the perfect move in mind.

Step, step, jump — tuck in tight, so there’s enough momentum to rotate at least twice — and bam, it’s like a wind-up toy. The more spins he gets in, the harder his landing is, disarming the guy with a perfect slash while kicking his teeth in.

Neat and effective, in Lloyd’s opinion.

Sadly, his opinion is not shared.

Kai sputters. “What was that?”

“Cool as heck, that’s what it was,” Lloyd grins.

Kai is supremely unimpressed. “What did I say about wasting movements?”

Lloyd shuffles. “Don’t…do it?”

“Then why, exactly, did you feel the need to flip three — not one but three — times before striking?”

“Because,” Lloyd says. “It was cool. As heck.”

Kai pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Lloyd valiantly bites back any comments about him taking after Sensei Wu.

“There’s a difference between adding your own flare,” he finally says. “And squandering your energy like a spinning top.”

“Squandering — spinning top—” Lloyd sputters. “Hey, I got the guy just fine, didn’t I? I didn’t squander anything.”

“And what’re you gonna do if someone wises up and snipes you mid-flip?”

“Who’s gonna snipe me, there are no snipers around, dummy—”

“There could be, hypothetically!”

“Hypothetically, please. You’re just jealous ‘cause you can only do two flips—”

“I can do sixteen if I want, I’m just smarter—”

Despite his arguments, Lloyd does resolve to try for restraint. Unfortunately, Lloyd’s also got the memory of a goldfish, so Kai should really know better.

He just can’t help it. The next time they clash with a run-of-the-mill villain who’s stealing secret plans for bombs or whatever ridiculous thing it is that week, Lloyd finds himself on one building with the criminal on the next.

The solution is obvious. Kai doesn’t agree.

“FIVE FLIPS?! THAT WAS A THREE-FOOT DISTANCE!”

Lloyd carefully places the now-unconscious criminal on the rooftop, stands back up, and wisely back-flips the heck outta there.

______

As his sword movements grow more complicated and the green power take a near-constant presence in his veins, the gentle pulse of energy as familiar as a friend, Lloyd grows stronger, too.

This kickstarts an entirely new problem, because Lloyd can’t go five steps without ruining something, it seems.

In his defense, he doesn’t start breaking swords at a criminal rate until after Morro, so Lloyd’s gonna blame it all on him.

He stares blankly at the katana in his hands — or the remains of it, to be exact. Half the blade is somewhere across the street, where it went skidding after Lloyd’s final hit snapped it clean in two.

Kai stares just as blankly when Lloyd wordlessly offers the pieces up.

“Okay,” he finally says. “Maybe I went wrong with the balance, or something? This was probably just a fluke.”

He turns it over, frowning. “Wouldn’t hurt to reinforce the next one, I guess…”

Reinforcements or not, it takes the third shattered sword for Kai to wise on.

“I’m so sorry,” Lloyd warbles tearfully, the remains of Kai’s careful metalwork cradled in his arms. “I don’t know what happened, I was just swinging it, and it went — it went—”

“It went in six different directions, apparently,” Kai mutters.

Lloyd slumps. “It was only four this time,” he mutters.

“I guess this is what we get for training you as well as we did,” Kai says. “Cole and his super strength, I’ll never be free of it.”

“Didn’t he beat you by tripping you flat on your face?”

“I don’t wanna hear it from you, oh cruel destroyer of my swords,” Kai scowls.

“I didn’t mean to!” Lloyd protests. “I tried really hard this time, but the last guy had this giant bat, and I thought I could cut it in half, but I swung so hard I screwed up my strike and went…in six…different directions…”

Kai scrubs a hand over his face. He glances at Lloyd, eyes searching.

“But you beat him?”

“Duh,” Lloyd says. The faith people have in him.

“And you didn’t get hit yourself?”

Lloyd shakes his head. “Not a scratch.” It’s not even a lie this time.

“Then I guess it was a noble sacrifice,” Kai sighs. “I can live with that.”

The katana’s sad remnants join the equally sad — and steadily growing — pile of scrap metal made by Lloyd’s awful sword skills. They have a pretty fun time melting it all down though, watching the metal bubble as Kai starts drafting the next run of layered steel he’ll shape into a katana.

“I’m gonna be a master katana maker at this rate,” he huffs, wiping at his forehead. Lloyd, who’s hanging over the forge to watch the different colors the liquid metal makes, taps lazily at his knee with his foot. The forge flares brighter as Kai’s fire does, and he mumbles a distracted thanks.

“A master hothead,” Lloyd says. Kai rolls his eyes. “If I ever figure out how to be a master swordsman, maybe you can take a break and figure out how to make other weapons.”

“Hey, I’m great at making other weapons.”

“Yeah, like ‘block of metal’ and ‘triangle of metal’ and ‘weird rectangle of metal’, and—”

“You’re gonna get a stick for next battle if you keep that up,” Kai growls, but his lips are twitching.

“Hypotenuse of metal,” Lloyd whispers.

“The heck, that’s not even a shape—”

The forge grows steadily hotter as Kai works, bright sparks popping and steam hissing up in little curling wisps. It doesn’t bother Lloyd too much — ever since that day in the volcano, the press of heat is more like a second skin. He’s nowhere near as durable as Kai, of course, who could probably hop in the forge and come out with only a sunburn, but it’s enough to feel cozy instead of sweaty and dizzy.

“Y’know, you don’t have to use a sword,” Kai says hesitantly, as he inspects a hammer. “There are a lot of other weapons that would fit your style. If you ever wanna try out a spear like Nya, that might suit you pretty well.”

“No!” Lloyd says sharply. Biting his tongue, he amends, “I’ve already been training with swords for forever. I don’t wanna change my whole style for something else.”

Kai eyes him shrewdly, but his lips finally twitch up in amusement. “If you say so,” he says. “But I swear, break my sword again and you will get a stick for your next weapon. Or chopsticks. A butter knife—”

______

Lloyd gets a new sword, of course. And another one. He might grouse and complain, but Kai doesn’t truly get angry about the swords. He does, however, get very angry over Lloyd’s total idiocy with what happens to said shattered swords.

His first mistake is the usual one — Lloyd swings a bit too hard at a sloppy angle and there’s a high-pitched screech as the sword dies a sad death, splitting in two.

Lloyd stares blankly at the now much-shorter katana in his hands, which is his second mistake. The delay costs him, and he scrambles to duck the thief’s vicious punch, their own sword having been knocked away in the scuffle. Their boot comes up, swinging for his head, and Lloyd springs back, landing palms-first on the floor and launching himself out of range.

He also, unthinking, drops the broken katana — mistake number three.

His fourth mistake is the worst one possible, because Lloyd brings his hand up to block what he’s sure will be another punch, only to get slashed by the jagged end of the katana he just dropped.

A sharp, burning pain explodes across his hand, and Lloyd stifles a shriek.

Stupid, stupid, stupid move.

The thief comes in for round two, Lloyd’s own snapped katana glinting in the fluorescent building lights, and Lloyd freezes. It occurs to him that he should probably just go ahead and hit the thief with an burst of green, but that’s also when Kai mows them down with a viciousness that reminds Lloyd — Kai always goes easy on him in training.

“I had him handled,” he still protests, after the thief’s been hauled off to prison (or the hospital, possibly).

Kai ignores him, sheathing his katana and storming his way.

He grabs Lloyd’s hand before he can protest, pulling back the torn fabric of his glove and slapping his own hood against the gash on his hand to stem the bleeding.

“What did I say,” Kai says angrily.

Lloyd flinches at the stinging pain in his hand, and tries to glare back.

Kai’s having none of it. “Your sword is supposed to take the hits,” he snaps. “Not you!”

“It did take the hit,” Lloyd finally throws back. “I just broke it, and — I was fine!”

“You hand’s bleeding all over my hood, that is not fine!”

“Then take your hood off and it won’t get blood on it!”

“My hood isn’t what I’m worried about!”

By the time Zane’s stitched Lloyd’s hand up, wincing barely kept at a minimum, Kai’s cooled down.

Somewhat.

“It was an accident, okay?” Lloyd says, for the billionth time. “I didn’t realize he had a weapon. I wasn’t trying to sacrifice my hand, or whatever.”

“Oh yeah? ‘Cause that sounds a lot like something you’d do.”

“Coming from you, that’s somewhat hypocritical,” Zane murmurs.

Lloyd snickers. Kai turns to Zane in utter betrayal.

Of course, this means that Lloyd’s next lesson is how to treat sword wounds in emergency situations, in painstaking and excruciating detail. His hand stings every time he grasps the katana handle for solid week, though, so Lloyd takes equally careful notes.

______

Lloyd goes and breaks another three katanas after that. At this point, he kinda thinks Kai should just give up and let him go into battle weapon-less again. You don’t need weapons to do Spinjitzu. The green power won’t break, and Lloyd certainly won’t split into six pieces.

(He hopes.)

Kai keeps putting swords in his hands anyways.

Lloyd could always just say no — he’s supposed to be leader or something, he can make his own decisions.

But he thinks of sparring sessions and smelling like cloves every other evening, thinks of the tiny dragons Kai still takes the time to carve into his katana handles, and throwing all that away would feel as great as sawing off his own arm.

So he picks the katana up, does his stupid katas, and promises to do better this time.

That doesn’t magically fix things, of course.

“How,” Kai says blankly, staring at the katana that now lies in a record eight pieces.

“Um.” Lloyd twists his fingers together. “I definitely didn’t use it to prop open a door like you said never to do.”

Kai gives him a smile that shows exactly all of his teeth.

“You have five seconds to run.”

______

All that training on treating sword wounds pays off. Possibly more than learning how to fight with a sword in the first place, when Kai drops in the middle of battle with a wicked slash across his lower thigh.

“Of all the — stupid, embarrassing—”

“Shut up,” Lloyd says tightly. He’s already focusing half his energy on not throwing up at the amount of blood soaking between his fingers where they’re pressed tightly over Kai’s leg. “Stop moving, I gotta see if it — if it hit an artery.”

“It better not have,” Kai pants, wincing as Lloyd presses down harder. “If it hit an artery I’m screwed.”

“Shut up.”

Lloyd’s heartbeat is a thunderstorm in his ears, panic welling up in his throat as Kai’s blood swims in his vision.

“Hey, hey,” Kai’s hand falters, then clasps Lloyd’s own. “M’gonna be fine. Takes a lot more than a stupid leg wound to take me out.”

“That’d be so lame,” Lloyd breathes, somewhat hysterically. He’s torn his own belt off for a tourniquet, which is step one, he thinks — hood can go around the actual wound, and if he steals Kai’s belt, then he can double reinforce it—

“I can always cauterize,” Kai says shakily, sounding like he’d rather do anything else in the world. “It’ll be — move!”

Lloyd manages to roll them both out of the way as the assassin who nailed Kai comes in to finish the job, sword scraping sparks across the rooftop. Lloyd flashes a furious glare over his shoulder, mind racing as he holds himself in front of Kai.

“Here.” The familiar hilt of Kai’s katana slaps against Lloyd’s open hand — the other is quick to follow suit. “Remember, double wielding — better for defense.”

Lloyd nods on instinct. He adjusts his grip on both swords, the blood on his fingers making the hilts tacky and sticky. It’s going to be a pain to clean later, a vague part of his mind notes.

Of course Lloyd remembers dual wielding. It is better for defending, but you lose power on striking and reach — he can deal with that. Kai does.

And it’s exactly what he needs, right now. The assassin won’t even get close to Kai.

One spin, then another. The katanas’ weight is familiar, balanced in the slightly-weird way Lloyd likes best, the way Kai makes all his swords. He finds his footing, finds the stance, and moves.

When Kai fights, he fights like the first flash of flame from a match strike — quick and bursting, fast enough it all but blinds the enemy.

When Lloyd fights, it feels like dancing — slower to start, picking steps deliberately, building to that bursting strike faster and faster.

It only takes one strike, after all. And Lloyd’s got two swords.

Silver flashes across the rooftop, a piercing screech as one of his katana meets the assassin’s broader blade, forcing it back—

The assassin drops with a cry before falling silent, the shattered pieces of a katana scattered around him.

“Saw that…one coming,” Kai moans.

Still breathing heavily, Lloyd tries not to cringe.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeats, after Kai’s securely in a hospital bed and enduring Nya’s forty-five minute lecture about the many ways your arteries can kill you.

Kai waves his hand, slightly cross-eyed and loopy from medication. “Y’know what? I wanted a new sword anyways. You saved me, so…skip the lecture and we’ll call it square?”

Lloyd lets a small smirk crawl up his face.

“You know, I feel like there’s something very important you should keep in mind, about your weapons taking the hit, instead of you—”

“When I get out of here, you’re toast.”

______

“I think I know where I’m going wrong,” Kai says.

He’s spent the weekend with his father, the two of them either shut up in the forge or buzzing and forth about blacksmithing. It leaves Lloyd feeling a little weird — some mix between happy for Kai and achingly jealous, which then leaves him mostly just sad, which sucks. Lloyd sucks — it’s terrible to feel that way. Everyone was happy when Lloyd got both his parents back after that first battle, and even if he’s lost that — the least he can do is be happy for Kai and Nya.

It ends up working out pretty great in the end, because Kai looks a little like he’s unraveled the mysteries of the universe right now.

Half his right eyebrow is also scorched off, but Lloyd decides not to mention it for now. It’ll be funny to see the look on his face, when he notices.

“I was talking with my dad, who’s got a lot more experience with this stuff, and he suggested something,” Kai continues. He fiddles with whatever he’s got hidden behind his back, and Lloyd has to stifle the urge to dart around him and see.

“No more katana,” Kai says. “You’re good with ‘em, but I think we need a change-up.”

“You mean good at breaking them,” Lloyd mutters.

“If the sword breaks on you, it’s my fault,” Kai says. “I’m not exactly the world’s best blacksmith. Y’know, you should really think about getting someone else to—”

“No.” Lloyd bites his tongue immediately, aware of how bratty he sounds.

And selfish. It’s not like Kai has tons of time to just make Lloyd swords all the time.

As if reading his thoughts, Kai scuffs his hair. “Stop that. I like making swords.” The small edge of a smile pulls at his lips. “I worked pretty hard to become a blacksmith. So it feels kinda good, that someone appreciates the work for once.”

He shakes his head. “Anyways! Meet your new battle buddy. This is called a dao sword.”

Lloyd stares at the curved, silvery blade Kai’s handed to him. It’s thicker than the katana he’s used to, the blade growing broader at the end before tapering off.

“Historically, it’s better suited for quick slashing, but it’s fairly versatile,” Kai continues.

Lloyd carefully lifts the sword, his eyes widening just a bit.

“And heavier,” Kai grins. “Which means it’s gonna be at least a little more difficult for you to shatter.”

His hands fit easily around the handle — there’s plenty of room for a two-handed grip, and enough balance if he wants to switch back to one.

“The guard’s a bit better with protection, and it’s got this tassel here you can wrap around your hand — yeah, like that — to help keep it steady. Or just look fancy.”

Stepping back, Lloyd adjust his hold. Normally he’d do something silly, or needlessly complicated, just to make Kai roll his eyes, but something about this one feels heavier — he doesn’t want to mess it up. He takes a single, experimental swing instead.

“Oh,” Lloyd blinks. “It’s sharp.”

“I’d hope so. What do you think I am, a half-rate blacksmith — don’t answer that, by the way.”

Lloyd simply grins, taking a few more swings. It is heavier than the katana he’s used to, broader and chunkier — but it feels at home in his hands.

“It’s incredible,” Lloyd says, turning back to Kai. “Thank you.”

Kai colors, just a bit. “You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not lying! I love it. It’s perfect.”

“Well, as long as it holds up, that’s good enough for me,” Kai says, rubbing the back of his head. “Wanna give it a test drive?”

“Yeah,” Lloyd says. “I bet I can do even more flips with it.”

“And stab yourself in the leg in the process, but sure, go ahead, squander my gift—”

______

Lloyd’s careful, more so than ever, with the dao sword. When they all split across Ninjago, Lloyd clings to the piece of his family and tries to remember Kai’s instructions, making sure his hands are firmly wrapped and his right ankle always stays low.

So when it breaks on the river with Harumi, Lloyd wants to cry.

He wants to cry for a lot of other reasons, but it still hurts — another thing he cares for that Harumi’s managed to break so easily. It hurts that they all work so hard, time and again, and it always ends up shattering around them anyways. Hurts that they pour themselves out for this city again and again and it’s still not enough.

(Hurts that he’s never, ever going to outrun that worthless little kid in the snow.)

He learns, later — he’s got much more to lose to her than just a sword.

It hurts all the same.

But the sword’s broken and Lloyd’s on a one-way collision course with his father, and it’s much too late to turn back now.

Lloyd enters Kryptarium Prison with nothing but himself and his power. It was enough the first time, it’s got to be enough this one as well.

Lloyd was enough the first time — if he isn’t enough now—

If he isn’t—

______

He isn’t.

He throws himself against his father and shatters his heart with every hit. Then the rest of him goes and shatters too, ribs cracking and skin splitting as he’s battered through walls and bruised against stone. His power sparks and screams as it tries to save him, pushed to its limits.

A part of Lloyd finds it funny — he can’t even keep his power together. He wonders if he’ll snap into six pieces and fly everywhere, just like Kai’s poor katanas, with nothing left but broken pieces of Lloyd to melt down for scrap.

Kai doesn’t find it funny in the slightest. Not the muffled voice Lloyd hears breaking as his family tries to put him back together, not the filthy embrace Lloyd gets when it’s finally over, not the multiple hour-long lectures Lloyd’s forced to sit through even three months out.

“I don’t care how many swords you break,” he hisses, giving Lloyd a shake that’s forceful enough his teeth almost rattle. “I don’t care if you shatter a thousand. They’re supposed to protect you. You’re supposed to choose yourself. Don’t you ever, ever, put yourself out there to break again.”

Lloyd must’ve broken a hundred promises by now. He can’t seem to do anything right, truly — not being the Green Ninja, not being a good brother, not being Garmadon’s son.

But, as he nods and makes another promise, he can try.

For Kai, he’ll try.

______

Things are different, after his father, but it’s the same way things are always different after their family escapes by the skin of their teeth. Each new threat leaves another lingering wound, but Lloyd likes to think it stitches them closer in the aftermath.

With everyone’s attention so laser-focused on Lloyd after everything, it makes it easier for him to spot the others’ bad days.

It only takes him five minutes to track down Kai this time. Lloyd carefully lowers himself cross-legged next to him on the floor, katana laid across his lap.

Kai tenses, as if preparing for another speech.

Please. Lloyd’s methods are way sneakier — and better — these days.

“So,” he starts, as he dips the edge of a rag in Kai’s choji oil. “I was patrolling today, and I saw like, a demon cat, I think? I mean, it was definitely a cat. It looked kind of like the one Zane used to feed when we lived at the apartment, all stripey and stuff. I was gonna try and pet it, ‘cause patrol was pretty boring and what was I supposed to do, ignore it? So I did the whole pspsps thing, and it was not a fan — and I swear, it hissed at me, and it looked just like my dad. When he's all Oni, y’know? Which is rude, cats are supposed to be comforting, not traumatic—”

Lloyd’s rambling grows more and more nonsensical as he goes, jumping from topic to topic as he works on the katana. He can feel the tension seeping out of Kai where he sits beside him though, bit by bit until Kai’s finally leaning against his shoulder.

“Missed a spot,” he speaks up suddenly, his voice only cracking a little.

Lloyd squints at the sword. “Where?”

Kai taps a bandaged finger on the blade.

“Oh,” Lloyd blinks. He adjusts the rag. “Thanks.”

Kai speaks up again, after a minute, “You’ve gotten good at this.”

“Had a good teacher.”

There’s a faint snort. “Debatable.”

“With who?” Lloyd says. “I’m your number one sword student. And your only one. I win automatically.”

“The others use swords. Sometimes.”

“Yeah, and Jay still whines every time the super special weapon-of-the-week to defeat evil ends up being a sword again,” Lloyd says.

“S’cause Jay’s better with nunchucks. Totally different concept.”

“But he isn’t better with a sword.”

“Definitely not better than me.”

“I’m your best student,” Lloyd says. “Jay can’t be better than me. That’s illegal.”

“If the Green Ninja declares it,” Kai says, but there’s an edge of laughter in his voice, a thawing out of the numb blankness he’d worn earlier. He slumps, just a bit heavier, against Lloyd.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” Kai mutters.

“‘Kay.” Lloyd turns the sword over, squinting at his reflection. “Sometime, though?”

“If you can manage not to break anymore katanas before I finish your new weapon, maybe.”

“You guys won’t even let me out to fight,” Lloyd grouses. “It’s not as if I’ll have a chance to.”

Kai makes a huffing noise. “Maybe if you’d sit still long enough to heal—”

“I don’t wanna hear it from you,” Lloyd scowls. “Look, I know I messed up with — with her, but—”

“That’s not what this is about,” Kai says sharply. “It’s about you being okay.”

Normally, Lloyd would protest. Should protest — he doesn’t deserve to get off that easy. But Kai’s gone tense again, so he lets it go, just this once.

“Sorry,” he murmurs anyways.

“No, don’t. You’re doin’ good,” Kai sighs, and he sounds so very, very tired. “Just…take it easy, okay? ’Til I get your sword done.”

“Sorry for breaking the old one, too,” Lloyd says. “I really did try to keep it safe.”

“I’ll make you a hundred swords,” Kai says. “A thousand, if I have to. Just keep using them, okay? Swords are your weapon.”

Like Lloyd’s ever going to forget that, at this point.

______

It’s only after the Oni are more a memory and Lloyd has been subjected to an unholy amount of recuperation that Kai allows him to even see the sword he’s made this time.

It’s well worth the wait, though.

“It’s gold,” Lloyd murmurs, reverently holding the new dao blade.

“Yeah, well,” Kai shrugs, a little bashful. “I thought you should match us, at some point.”

Lloyd has to try very hard not to pretend that doesn’t make a small, lingering part of him want to tear up.

“Is this jade?” he says instead, carefully tracing a finger over the single panel of green that decorates the blade.

“Technically it’s jadeite, and no, you don’t wanna know where I got it,” Kai corrects.

“I don’t care,” Lloyd says. “I love it. It’s the best sword ever. I — thank you, so much—”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Kai says quickly. “You’re welcome, or whatever, just — you’ll use it, right?”

Lloyd gives him a long, flat look.

“You’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands.”

“You are not allowed to joke about that—!”

______

The golden dao sword never breaks.

It takes Lloyd several fights with it to stop holding back, but once he realizes this sword won’t shatter to pieces in his hands, he lets himself get creative.

And the sword holds, again and again.

Against Aspheera’s burning soldiers, against the bitter chill of the Never Realm, against the Skull Sorcerer’s monsters in the depths of Shintaro, against the heavy weight of water and cold crystal — the dao blade holds.

Kai tells him it’s because Lloyd’s finally learned how to stop using his weapon as a glorified baseball bat. Lloyd thinks it’s because Kai knows blacksmithing for ninja better than anyone else in the world.

His powers grow, too — along with his options, which he’d really have preferred to just…avoid.

Real fun that it wasn’t the many years of pent-up anger issues, but crippling traumatic grief, that’s the key to unlocking his shapeshifting abilities. Hilarious.

It still stings, a bit, that no one ever bothered to tell him he was walking around with the blood of two mythical beings just chilling in his veins, Would’ve been nice to know, maybe, before he got stuck having a whole crisis about it smack in the middle of another world-ending crisis.

Oni, dragon, Green Ninja. Like he needs another title.

In the end, it doesn’t matter much what he thinks. Everyone moves on and Lloyd is a multi-bred freak of nature, or something.

His father thinks he should hone his Oni powers. Sensei Wu thinks he should listen to his father but also remember his dragon side. His mother thinks he should read the eight-hundred page historical brick of a book about all known history of the Oni and the dragon. He doesn’t have a clue what his great-grandparents think of him, except that a family reunion would be world-ending levels of terrible.

Lloyd, who’s grown attached to looking like himself and happens to like being human, keeps reaching for his dao blade first.

Swordsmanship is something he’s proud of. He’s worked hard for it, through blisters and bruises and blood. It’s something that belongs to him and Kai, something shared and freely given. Something passed onto him, something taught and earned, something treasured.

Lloyd doesn’t have a lot of things like that, so he treasures it all the more himself.

Treasures the humanity of his family, and how lucky he is to be part of that.

Treasures the things he’s learned from them like family heirlooms he’s never had.

Treasures the fact that they’re there—

Treasures the—

______

The monastery is so quiet, Lloyd’s starting to understand how people lose their minds.

Not really. He hasn’t started talking to himself yet, so that’s a good sign, right? It doesn’t count, if you’re yelling for other people. Doesn’t count if you’re screaming curses at your stupid grandfather who let your whole world split apart and tore away the only people that were yours.

“It doesn’t count,” he whispers to the sword in his lap.

Lloyd stares dully at his reflection in the dao sword, marred by the splotchy wear and ugly chipping at the blade’s edges. It’s in miserable shape, worn down and neglected.

A lot like himself, maybe.

He shudders, drawing in a breath. Sulking won’t sharpen swords. And when Kai gets back — which he will — he’ll be so disappointed that Lloyd’s gone and treated his sword like dirt.

The smell of choji oil makes his eyes sting, but the familiar sound the rag makes across the blade soothes it.

He’s glad he took the time to sharpen it up, too, when he visits the city. More than glad when he finds himself atop the train, his missing hood leaving him distinctly uncomfortable as he prepares to fight.

Lloyd’s hands have warped and twisted, burst in purple and grown claws sharp enough to slice. If he can make them his own again, after that, he can make them hold steady now.

The handle of the dao blade is worn and familiar, the fraying tassel the same bright green where it brushes the back of his hands, and Kai’s voice yells in his head as loud as ever as he swings it once—

One flip this time, he decides. One flip, one strike.

Swords are his weapon, after all. It’s important for him to remember that.

And even if he doesn’t—

______

Lloyd’s grown up in a world of weapons, and far faster than he probably should.

But with every sword swing, every familiar callous carved into his hand, Kai’s there to remind him that his sword is the weapon.

And Lloyd, power or no power, is just Lloyd.

#ninjago #lloyd garmadon #kai smith #my fic #am still insane about them!!#this is like 80 percent headcanon but it's canon to ME #also its like 9k words im so sorry if it crashes ur browser

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locketsvault · 11 months ago

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「 CUDDLING WITH BSD MEN PT 3/4 」

pairings: fyodor x reader ፥ nikolai x reader ፥ sigma x reader ፥ poe x reader

tags: gender neutral reader, no agab mentioned, first person, fluff, cuddling/phyiscal affection

warnings: curse words, I’m sorry I had to curse the doa is cracked

other parts: ada ᨒ port mafia ᨒ doa + the guild ᨒ the hunting dogs

a/n: this is the most cracked part yet

// fyodor dostoevsky ⌇˚.༄

⮑ … you are crazy for cuddling him, truly.

⮑ Our dear master manipulator, how you trust him enough to let him that close I do not know how. What confuses me even more, how did you get him to trust you? Anyways— somehow you managed it, and it’s now time for some cuddle headcanons with Fyodor.

⮑ His lap is your throne. He spends pretty much all of his time in front of his monitors, so it’s not uncommon for one of the other doa members to walk in and find you curled up on it. As long as you don’t distract him, he will allow you to stay and do as you please. Sometimes he’ll wrap an arm around your waist.

⮑ He actually doesn’t mind pda, he doesn’t see you as a weakness to himself and trusts that you’ll be taken care of and safe, if not by him then by the others. I think having an arm or hand on your waist is common with him when you two are out. He will make it clear to anyone who stares at you too long that you’re his.

⮑ He’s big spoon always, he will never give up control even with something as small as cuddling. Honestly you’re lucky he will cuddle you at all. He’s not fond of touching much. Seriously the fact you touch him without knowing his ability, you’re absolutely insane. His cuddles I feel like are cold. Oh, and if you annoy him he will kick you off his lap.

⮑ 4/10, when he allows you in his lap and you behave you find that it’s actually quite nice. Good luck though.

// nikolai gogol ⌇˚.༄

⮑ I find you crazy for cuddling him as well but for a completely different reason.

⮑ With Fyodor you’re insane because he’s dangerous as hell, and yes Nikolai is too, but I find you crazy for cuddling him because he’s an unpredictable crazy clown. He is the definition of “never let them know your next move��. It’s never safe cuddling him. You never know when he will pull a prank—.

⮑ He will pull shit out of his cloak during cuddle sessions or pull you through. He will come up behind you, hug you, and suddenly you’re teleported to a pool full of rubber ducks. And that’s on the bright side.

⮑ All jokes aside, it scares me to say he’s actually good at cuddling. He’s very attentive, he knows how to read you. Like Dazai, his cuddles feel too secure at time. He knows when to be serious with cuddles, and when he can be unhinged. He’s pretty good at behaving according to what you can handle.

⮑ He’s very comfortable to cuddle, and he loves when you rest your head over his heart. He’s another big spoon for sure, another one who doesn’t like being out of control. Except for him it’s more that it just doesn’t feel comfortable or right. He also loves pda, and he loves messing with you in public. He could care less if people are staring.

⮑ 6/10, you better hope he’s more in an attentive mood than wanting to torment you.

// sigma ⌇˚.༄

⮑ He demands cuddles every second of every day. Give them to, him or else.

⮑ Our precious three year old. I promise you he has never been cuddled a day in his life. Like pretty much every aspect of your relationship, cuddles are a new thing that he has to learn. Once he learns though he adores it. It’s his main form of comfort. More often enough he comes home from work and collapses in your arms.

⮑ Due to how stressed out this poor boy is and how he pretty much never catches a break, he’s almost always the little spoon. It’s either a nervous breakdown or you hold him. How can you complain though he’s so precious. Plus he has pretty and soft hair to play with.

⮑ When he is the big spoon he always holds you in his arms protectively, terrified that if he lets go he will lose you. He often will place a hand over your head as he holds you. If you fall asleep in his arms he will sit there wondering how he got so lucky with you. He loves spooning you because again, you’re safe in his arms.

⮑ He loves when you visit him and sit in his lap, it makes working so much easier for him. He’s very shy with pda but if you love it he will do his best. He gets so flustered when people walk into his office and you’re in his arms, it’s actually so precious.

⮑ I could go on and on about him and his adventures of cuddling tbh.

⮑ 10/10, he’s so sweet and cute and does his absolute best for you.

// edgar allan poe ⌇˚.༄

⮑ Oh my gosh he’s so easy to fluster I can’t. And Karl?

⮑ No literally it takes nothing to make him flustered he’s so shy. 90% of the time you have to take charge when it comes to initiating physical contact. He second guesses himself and worries he might be too much. So he allows you to initiate it. Yet he panics every time. Crawl into his lap? Tomato.

⮑ Karl constantly crashes your cuddle sessions, which is probably a good thing or things might turn… nsfw. It’s actually quite cute though, Poe will be writing a book, you’ll sit in his lap, and Karl will sit in yours. Honestly you get just as much cuddles from the raccoon as you do your bf, something he gets jealous about lol.

⮑ Believe it or not he’s actually mostly big spoon. Similarly to Sigma, it comforts and reassures him to be big spoon. Though he genuinely doesn’t mind being little spoon, especially if you love being big spoon.

⮑ Your most common cuddle position, besides sitting in his lap when he writes, is either you holding him while he writes, or facing each other in bed holding each other. It’s easy to talk to each other softly and give gentle kisses.

⮑ 9/10, sometimes having to constantly initiate it can get a bit frustrating.

main hub ✦ masterlist ✦ to do list

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libraryofgage · 5 months ago

Text

Harlequin Prince (3)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

So that Suicide Squad Isekai anime huh (it's great, I love it actually)

Anyway, I'll be playing fast and loose with Batman canon so all the batkids can be around at the same time have fun with that cuz I did (also forgive me if anyone is a little too OOC; i'm here for a good time not a long time), and the little flashback bit will continue in the next parts as Steve meets more batkids ^_^

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't UwU

----

Harley drops him off at Wayne Manor just after ten in the morning. She tugs a window open, carries him inside, kisses him on the forehead, and promises to pick him up in a week before climbing back out. Steve watches her until she's past the gate, clutching a Green Lantern plush his mother insisted he carry around because it'll annoy his Uncle Bruce.

Steve glances down at the plush, wishing his mother didn't have to go off on a mission when she'd just gotten out of Arkham two months ago. His wishes won't actually change anything, though, so he might as well make the best of his week with Uncle Bruce.

He turns on his heel, taking in the plain bedroom that will probably become his for the next few days. He holds the Green Lantern plush close and marches to the door, stepping out into the hall and choosing a random direction to walk in.

According to his mother, Wayne Manor can have anywhere between two and ten people staying in it at one time. She told him that Dick would be the most welcoming, if not the most confused, the girls would be the most fun, and Damien would be the most guarded, likely to consider him a threat for his entire stay.

It's just his luck that the first person he runs into is Damien. The other boy drops from the ceiling, blade of his sword glinting in the light as it comes to a stop just against Steve's neck. Steve freezes, glancing down at the sharp edge as Damien says, "Think very carefully before answering. Who are you, and what are you doing in my home?"

Steve looks away from the sword, tilting his head slightly as he shrugs. "I'm Steve. I'm staying here for a week," he says.

Damien's eyes narrow, and he takes a step closer, adjusting his arms so the katana doesn't move. "Says who? Does Father know you're here? Are you a spy sent by my mother?"

"Says my mom. Maybe. No," Steve replies.

A few more seconds pass before Damien hums. "Who's your mother?"

"Harley."

"Quinn?"

"Is there another?"

Slowly, Damien lowers the sword. "I suppose Quinn is somewhat reformed. How old are you?" he asks.

"Almost six."

"So, you're five," Damien says, nodding once. He sheathes his sword, apparently deciding Steve is no threat to him. "That makes me older than you, so you have to do what I say. Consider me your big brother for the week."

"Are you gonna make me hurt myself?"

"No."

"Mom said you wouldn't like me."

"Father said I should try being more trusting and welcoming. You are small and untrained, like a puppy. I could dismember you before you hurt me, which makes you ideal for practicing," Damien explains. He's quiet for a few seconds before getting a slight smirk. "Besides, it will greatly annoy my brothers if you obviously prefer me over them."

"I'm great at pretending as long as we can do fun stuff, too."

"Then we have a deal. You will act like I'm your favorite, and I will make sure you have fun."

Steve considers this, decides Damien is well on his way to actually being Steve's favorite, and steps closer. "Mom said Alfred makes the best cookies. Can we have some?"

"Yes," Damien says, "If you're hungry, then it's my responsibility to feed you as your big brother."

He offers his hand, seeming unsure when Steve takes it, like he isn't used to this kind of contact. Still, he doesn't pull away; he just hesitantly squeezes Steve's hand before leading him down the hall.

----

Not two days ago, Steve was telling himself he'd never set foot in Hawkins High School. Now, after getting the run down on the Upside Down (and holy shit did this place suddenly get a thousand times more interesting), Steve decides he'll just have to brave the brick walls to get Eddie out.

He leans forward on his motorcycle, arms resting on the handlebars as he looks up at the building. There's an American flag waving in the wind, faded paint on the outside, and security so lax it'd be suspicious in Gotham. Steve briefly considers leaving his helmet on, but he settles for placing it on the seat once he's off the motorcycle.

Walking into the school is easy. He doesn't even get stopped by the receptionist at the front desk. She just waves him in without looking up from her book. So, yeah, getting in is easy; figuring out where Eddie is might be a little harder.

He wanders the halls and stops the first student he sees, a girl with short brown hair carrying an unwieldy instrument case in her arms. Steve places his hands on the case and gently pushes down, flashing a grin when he can finally see her face. "Uh, can I help you?" she asks, her tone implying she very much does not want to help him.

"Yeah, I'm looking for someone," Steve says.

Her nose wrinkles slightly in disgust. "Listen, dingus, if this is some kind of pick-up line dare, save it," she says, rolling her eyes. She takes a step back and Steve follows.

"Nope, definitely not," he says, "You're not my type, sorry."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, unless you're not a girl...," he says, voice trailing off and eyebrow raising as he watches her understand his meaning.

She blinks, her shoulders rising some. She glances around, confirms the hallway is still empty, and relaxes. "Word of advice," she says, "don't just say that shit where anyone can hear. People aren't exactly nice about it around here."

Steve flashes a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, I can take care of myself, but thanks. Anyway, still looking for someone."

"Oh, right, uh, what's their name?"

"Eddie Munson. Know him?"

She blinks again, her eyebrows shooting up in slight disbelief. "Yeah, I know him. Whatcha need him for? He doesn't usually sell until after school."

Oh. Steve hums softly, filing away that tidbit of information for later. "Not here to buy. I'm here to take him somewhere fun," he says.

A few seconds pass in which the girl looks at Steve, drops her gaze to the instrument case between them, and then glances around the empty hall. "Well, shit, man, I wanna go somewhere fun, too."

Steve considers her for a moment, trying to figure out the logistics of fitting her and Eddie on his bike. Well, he can just have her sit on the handlebars or something. "Okay, but the instrument won't fit," he tells her.

The grin he gets in return tells him that won't be a problem. "Name's Robin, by the way."

This has to be fate, right?

"Steve. Nice to meetcha, Robin."

Robin's grin gets even wider, and Steve knows they'll be great friends.

---

"Eddie usually sits in a corner," Robin says, standing at the edge of the cafeteria with Steve. It's teeming with life, and Steve hears snippets of conversations that blur into one dull roar that settles over the space. It reminds him of bars in Gotham even more than the actual bars he's visited here in Hawkins.

He can't see into the corners from here, but that doesn't bother him. "Wait here," he says, flashing a grin at Robin before walking to a mostly empty table. He climbs onto it, reaches into one of his jacket's inner pockets, and pulls out an air horn.

Steve waits long enough to see Robin cover her ears before raising the horn in the air and pressing down. It blares through the room, drowning out conversations and forcing people at the surrounding tables to cover their ears. A few more seconds pass before Steve lets up on the horn, grinning widely at the sea of eyes turned towards him.

"I'm looking for Eddie Munson," he says, twirling the air horn in the palm of his hand.

Instead of a verbal answer, he watches as the eyes turn from him to a corner across the room. A few people even duck close to their tables to clear Steve's line of sight, allowing him to see a confused Eddie sitting with his friends.

Steve grins, pockets the air horn, and starts making his way across the cafeteria. He walks on tables, jumps between them, and narrowly avoids stepping on more than one tray along the way. By the time he reaches Eddie's table, most of the students have gone back to their lunches and conversations.

"How's it going, Eds?" Steve asks, crouching in front of Eddie with a grin. He glances at the other boys by him, notes the identical Hellfire Club shirts, and nods in acknowledgement.

"Better now," Eddie says, his startled blink telling Steve he definitely didn't mean to say that out loud.

Steve somehow grins wider. "Wanna make like a banana and split? I've got somewhere fun in mind," he says, popping up from his crouch before hopping off the table and into the narrow space between Eddie's chair and his friend's.

"Dude, really?" one of his friends asks. "We have a session today."

Eddie looks torn at that realization, halfway standing and stuck like that. "That we do, Gare-bear," he says, defeat bringing his shoulders down.

"In that case, consider this a kidnapping," Steve tells them, grabbing Eddie's hand and pulling him up. He wraps his arm around Eddie's shoulders, winks at his friends, and promises, "I'll have him home before six, though."

Eddie's friends exchange glances, and Steve graciously pretends not to notice the puppy dog eyes Eddie aims at them. After a few seconds, one of them stands up, towering over Steve and outweighing him by a good bit. He clears his throat, glances at the other two, and tries to sound intimidating as he says, "Make it five thirty, and no funny business."

Steve nods and offers a mocking two-finger salute. "Yes, sir," he replies, flashing a grin before taking Eddie's bag from his seat and dragging him to where Robin is waiting.

"So, where are you kidnapping me to?" Eddie asks, managing to stick close to Steve despite having to weave through chairs and tables.

"Nothing special, really. Just an abandoned laboratory in the middle of the woods that has a gateway to another dimension filled with faceless monsters. Oh, and Robin's coming, too. Don't worry, though, I won't let you get hurt. "

He glances over to meet Eddie's wide eyes, something warm curling behind his ribs when Eddie finally smiles and whispers under his breath, "Fucking metal."

-----

Tag List (definitely still room, so let me know if you'd like to be tagged!):

@nectandra, @y4r3luv, @just-a-tiny-void, @dotdot-wierdlife

@midwestharpy, @twilitdragoneye, @disrespectedgoatman

@lawrencebshoggoth,

And now, a meme:

#my writing #steddie #steddie fic #harlequin prince #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #stranger things #steve deserves good parents actually #damien wayne #harley quinn

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pinkkkkat · 1 month ago

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bedazzled, chanel rings (in new york you can try things)

college!lottie matthews x female reader headcanons (sfw & nsfw)

synopsis: life in college in nyc being friends with lot, and maybe a bit more, too

you knew about lottie matthews of course. she was the center back on the yellowjackets, your college’s varsity soccer team, and shared some classes with you. you also knew about her reputation. girls would whisper in class on mornings after a party about so and so that had hooked up with the lottie matthews and about how good it was. oh well, you thought, there were worse reputations to have besides being good in bed

you guys had never formally met, though. she was friends with your friend van, so you had seen her around and were friendly enough but not close. you lived on campus in the dorms, and lottie lived in a fancy apartment that her parents paid for, so it’s not like you were going to see her in the dining hall

van was the goalie for the yellowjackets though, so when the team secured another win at a home game (which you had missed due to needing to finish a paper which was unfortunate, because they had “kicked ass,” according to van) you were invited along with van and her girlfriend tai to the celebration party hosted by lottie herself in that fancy apartment

you were shocked when you saw the building, it was huge, and had a doorman that let you guys in, smiling familiarly at van and you boarded the elevator which fuck, was also fancy.

lottie let you guys in when you got to her apartment, hugging all three of you even though you guys hadn’t met. that was just lottie though. the party was already in full swing, people bustling all around. lottie all but disappeared once greeting you guys, and so you headed to the island in the kitchen to mix drinks with tai and van

later, you see catch lottie in the corner of your eye, sitting out on her fire escape smoking. you figure this is as good of a time as any to actually meet her, you you stick you head out the window and smile and little sheepishly when lottie turns to look at you, but she just waves you out to sit with her. it’s a bit cramped, legs and arms touching as you sit side by side

(she smells like coconut and vanilla and cigarettes)

“you’re y/n right? van talks about her cute friend she knows from home all the time” she says, handing you her cig without asking. you take it and laugh a little

“yeah, she talks about all her cute teammates, too”

lottie smiles at you, canine tooth poking out through her smile and you blush a little under her attention, handing the cig back. lottie tuns to look out at the city, and nudges her arm into you when she speaks

“wish she introduced me to you earlier though”

and from that point on, you were friends. a few more parties passed, and each one included a smoke break on some fire escape/patio/bathroom window/back alley with lottie, sharing a cigarette instead of just getting your own. there was something cute about lottie’s lip stain mixing with your lipgloss anyways, you thought

lottie was very sweet to everyone, but when it was just the two of you, she had the most cutting things to say about some of the people at whatever party. even if you couldn’t put a face to who she was talking about, you laughed and joined in anyways. you didn’t notice that lottie hadn’t taken anybody home from a party since she met you, opting to get a cab with you guys

before the yellowjackets next game, lottie dms you a picture of a cat with hearts around his head on instagram, followed by a message asking you if you’re gonna come watch the game tonight? you say yes of course! and so you do

van waves at you with a big cheesy grin when she sees you in the stands. you’re wearing one of the school’s generic yellowjackets hoodies that they sell in the campus store. after the first half, (2-0), you see lottie scanning the stands for someone and wave at her. her eyes light up when she sees you there, and she bounces on her toes a bit in excitement when she waves back

when they win, of course there’s another party

lottie texts you as soon as the game is over, right as you see her disappear into the locker room

“coming to the party tn?” “‘course”

lottie is wearing a mini skirt and long sleeve shirt when you walk in, two shades of pink that clash and also work on her. you’re stuck for a moment looking at the miles of tan legs on display before she laughs at you gently and pulls you in through the house (jackie taylor’s house, you think)

there’s music blaring and people everywhere, very much the ordinary. what’s new is that lottie is mixing your drink for you in the kitchen, and laughing when you ask her for the third time what is it? and refusing to tell you, insisting it be a surprise. van and tai have disappeared into a corner somewhere, presumably to make out

lottie hands over the mystery drink and you sip it, humming happily as you taste the sweet bubbly mixture. lottie is smiling at you and she’s just so beautiful, and maybe you want to do something about it tonight. it’s the middle of october and you think that there’s been a vibe this whole time, so maybe tonight

when you ask lottie if she wants to dance in a moment of bravery, her eyes sparkle like she knows you had to fight to get that out, and she just shakes her head no. disappointment fills you, but lottie grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers, and pulls you out onto the small balcony. you fish around in your pockets for your lighter and lottie pulls a single cigarette out of her bra

“m not a dancer” she mumbles a little as you lean into her space to light the cigarette hanging from her lips. once it’s lit, lottie brings her free hand to rest on your waist, not letting you back out of her space. she looks away though as you shove the lighter back into your pocket, puffing smoke out into the chilly air

“me neither really” you say quietly, close enough to lottie that you don’t need to speak over the sound of the street below or the music leaking out from the party. lottie smiles at you, and her eyes are a little heavier than usual. there’s a moment of staring, and lottie’s pupils dilate as she watches your glossed lips part gently. she places the cigarette between them gently, and your hands brush when you reach to hold it, lottie’s hand tightens on your waist

you don’t know what makes you say what you say next, but alas. something in you wants to pick at lottie, goad her into doing something. its not like its based on anything, you’ve never actually seen lottie take anyone home, or even flirt. but you had heard the stories

“thinking about taking anybody here home tonight?” you ask her, voice teasing as you tilt your head, gesturing towards the apartment full of people. lottie pulls you closer, fronts pressing together and laughs gently when your breath catches in your throat. she takes the cig from your hand where you’ve abandoned it, and takes a pull before answering. she smells so good, like she always does

“hopefully” lottie whispers, her mouth right above the shell of your ear, and a shiver goes up your spine, giggling a little at her words. okay so obviously she’s into you, into this. you pull back, watching as lottie smokes what’s left to the cig, acting like she didn’t proposition you

“Lot” you breathe out, and her eyes snap to yours, a smile dancing on her face. “yeah?” she says, equally as breathy, and then you’re kissing her. lottie is immediately everywhere, cig flicked over the railing as both her hands make purchase on your waist. your hands cradle her face, and you whimper when lottie pulls you tight against her front, deepening the kiss

van is ranting about her film studies class when she busts onto the balcony, mouth snapping shut when she sees you two and laughing. you tuck your face into lottie’s neck, embarrassed, but lottie only pulls you closer and laughs, looking at van

so the friendship evolves into this: you spend at least three afternoons a week curled up on the couch with lottie, watching movies or reading for school, and lottie interrupting you every twenty minutes to pull you into her lap and make out with you a little. you guys don’t hookup right away, lottie makes it expressly clear to you that that isn’t what this is to her. you don’t mind

lottie has you wear her own yellowjackets hoodie to the next game, with matthews #5 embroidered into the fabric across your back. lottie is tall enough that you need to roll the sleeves up, but you wear it anyways. lottie loves seeing you in it, no matter how much jackie taylor teases her about finally being “locked down” by somebody

you rant to lottie about your classes with your feet in her lap, and rubs your leg and gives you some seriously sage advice. that’s something you love about lottie, that she’ll be biting and witty with her comments one second, giggling and making you laugh, and the next she’s oddly serious, speaking about life like she’s been around for millennia

lottie rants to you about team drama with her head in your lap, and she lets you brush her bangs out of her face while you offer the appropriate shit talking to benefit of the doubt for her teammates. jackie and shauna and “whatever the fuck is up with them” is often the star of these rants, as well as “nat’s mouth, always looking for trouble”

there’s a yellowjackets christmas gala, hosted by the college’s sports department. you know this because van told you, and she also told you that every player had a plus one. lottie hadn’t mentioned it to you, and since you two hadn’t defined what it was that you were doing, you got it into your own head that lottie was taking someone else. someone she was serious about, and you were just a fun way to kill time, even though she had told you otherwise

you talked yourself into a spiral, because even though lottie said this wasn’t a casual hookup, why wouldn’t;t she mention the christmas party? it was this weekend, for fucks sake. you skipped your last class that thursday and just went back to your dorm, if only to avoid lottie in english. you felt our phone buzz a handful of times but put it on do not disturb. you wanted to wallow in t for at least a second

when you got home, a package sat right in front of your door, on the floor in the hallway. you looked around, but nobody was there. it was honestly a miracle nobody had stolen it, considering. you picked up the rectangular box, wrapped in a dark blue wrapping paper. there was a tag, and you read it as you shut the door to your room behind you

“to y/n. wear it to the gala tonight, i’ll be there at 8. love lottie”

you smiled to yourself foolishly, already regretting skipping class. you texted lottie back before you even opened the box, responding to her “where are you, are you okay?” with “all good! wasn’t feeling it today, sorry lot”

inside the box was a silk dress that swished softly at the tops of your thighs and pulled tight around your waist and up. it was black, and light, and so obviously expensive that you could only gape at yourself in the mirror and rummage around for a pair of shoes that would maybe do it justice

when you let lottie in at eight, she smiled at you, eyes darkening when she saw you already in the dress she had bought. you stood in the middle of your room a little nervously, hands wringing as she drank in your whole form. lottie was wearing a muted pink dress, miles of legs hidden under the length of fabric. she was beautiful, of course, and you told her as much

“good job wearing the dress, y/n” lottie said, as if that was a response, “love you wearing the things i pick for you”

the whole night, lottie was touchier than usual. a hand on your thigh as you sat and listened to coach ben and coach martinez speak to the team. an arm wrapped all the way around you as you guys stood and mingled with the team, hand resting on the front of your hip. a near growl in your ear when nat whistled and let out a “damn, y/n!” even though the blonde was kidding. nat laughed at lottie like she had done it on purpose

when lottie had to go get in a photo with the team, she handed you her keys and directed you to go get in her car, saying she’d meet you there as soon as this was done. she seemed frazzled, and the fact that you had done that to her put a pleasant heat in your stomach. you winked at tai on your way out when she sent you a questioning look, causing her to belly laugh in surprise and nat to nudge lottie playfully

lottie drives you home without incident, pop music that you both like playing at a medium volume and you sign along softly, the window down letting the early december air brush past you. the only indication that lottie was wound up was the near-bruising her hand had on your thigh. you could only giggle at her, she had done this to herself. literally, she had set the no sex right away rule AND bought you the dress

she all but yanked you past her doorman on the way through her buildings lobby, causing you to smile apologetically at the kind man. as soon as the elevator door shut, lottie was kissing you. one hand pulled at your waist as she backed you up against the wall, free hand bracketing around the back of your head to stop it from hitting the wall

you couldn’t help but whimper when she slid her tongue against yours, crossing your arms loosely around the back of her neck and urging her closer. lottie smiled against yours lips, and a shot of electricity made its way through your body when you felt her canine tooth with your tongue. lottie pulled back when the elevator opened onto your floor, but it didn’t matter because as soon as the apartment door was closed, she had you backed into her kitchen counter

the first time you sleep with lottie is everything. her hands leave a trail of fire all over your body, squeezing every bit of skin she can touch, her hot wet mouth leaving marks on your neck and clavicle and its all you can do not to fall apart right there, sitting on her countertop where she had put you (and fuck if that wasn’t hot, lottie being strong enough to lift you like its nothing)

she shoves the dress she bought you up over your hips, bunching it up at your waist and mumbling about “you look so good baby” and “so pretty like this”

lottie is reverent about eating you out. she rubs soft circles on your thighs, your hips, she hums in agreement or sympathy every time you moan her name, she acts like she’s starving. your hands tangle in her hair and pull without trying, and lottie moans into you. she’s knelt on her kitchen floor, and when you finish she smiles up at you

there’s no pressure to do anything else but you WANT to, and you spend at least a full minute just staring at lottie when she pulls the sleeves of her dress off and lets it pool around her feet on the floor once you make it to her bedroom. when she cums around your fingers ten minutes later, moans muffled into your own mouth, you can taste yourself on her lips

after that first time, you both become a little insatiable

every bathroom at every christmas and new year’s party is occupied by the two of you for at least half an hour, but usually longer. van teases the two of you relentlessly, but “what else am i supposed to do?” lottie says, winking at you “look at her”

lottie sleeps at your dorm sometimes, even though she has a huge apartment, and you guys have study dates with tai and shauna all of the time

you’re really happy with lottie, she always says the right thing, but even when she doesn’t, she makes up for it with her attentiveness

so when she asks you to officially be her girlfriend, of course you say yes, and giggle into her kiss when she spins you around on her fire escape where you first met

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets showtime #lottie yellowjackets #lottie mathews x reader #lottie matthews #charlotte matthews #lottie x reader #lottie matthews smut #yellowjackets smut #charlotte matthews x reader #college!au #college!lottie #modern au

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blingblong55 · 7 months ago

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Snow at the beach- John "Soap" MacTavish NSFW

Based on a request: Hi there. I wanted to make a request for something a bit personal. All this week, my family has been criticizing my weight (which I have struggled with my whole life) and told me point-blank that no one would ever love me because of it. That being said, I would like to request a writing with Soap. Let's say the reader has been avoiding sex with him for a while. They'll kiss and stuff, but as soon as he starts pulling her shirt up, she pulls it back down and makes some sort of excuse. This goes on for a while until Soap confronts her about it. She basically then goes off, pointing out all her bodily flaws and how fat and hideous she thinks she is and asks him how he could ever think she was sexy. And all he says is, “How can I NOT?” And he makes love to her and every time she makes a complaint about her body or calls herself ugly, she shushes her, ultimately taking her in front of a mirror and making her look at herself and how sexy she looks taking him. And when they're done, Soap should talk about how she's not fat, she's cute and squishy. ---- F!Reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, established!relationship, self!degrading, body!issues, unprotected!sex, plus size/chubby!reader ----

A/N: anon, I hope you find love from family elsewhere, there words are not correct because love is not by bodies, its by hearts and emotions. Anyway, I got carried away in the smut...love you <3

Three weeks ago, the issue started. Your family decided to visit you and your boyfriend, and that's exactly when they commented how he must be lying to you about loving you. Surely a man like himself wouldn't be with a girl like you. "A girl like me?" you asked and your mother nodded. You know, big…fat and if we are honest, ugly because your body makes you ugly, honey," she feigns kindness as she says this. You don't let her see how terrible her words hurt, so when Johnny and your family were talking, you excused yourself and walked to the bedroom.

In the comfort of the room, you cried, wiped your tears and fixed your makeup. What if they were right? What if Johnny was just trying to pretend to love you to get with a woman who according to them is beautiful? It's funny, watching yourself cry in front of the mirror when just that morning, Johnny watched you smile as you applied makeup.

Once they were gone and the night took over the skies, Johnny found himself sitting on the bed, waiting as his bonnie got out of her shower. He looks around, impatient because he knows how naturally beautiful you look after your showers. If it were for him, he'd create a temple just to worship you, because to him your beauty comes from within.

When you two lay in bed, he turns to you, his hands caressing your sides as his eyes look over your lovely goddess-like body. He leans in, his lips capturing yours in an ever-loving kiss. He places himself on top of you, his hands wandering into your shirt as they always do. Usually, this would bring butterflies but with the conversations held during the day, those butterflies were long gone from your system. All you could think about was the truth that you believed from the serpents you call family.

"Sorry, I'm…tired, Johnny, not tonight, okay?" you say and he nods. He is a gentleman after all so if you say no, that's where it ends and he just cuddles you to sleep.

After the three-week mark, his patience runs thin. You avoid his neck and shoulder kisses, you no longer sleep in the comfy tank top you like. You begin to distance the intimacy of tough he would provide. Of course, he would respect your desire to not have sex but he knows there is something more deeper than tiredness or lack of lust for him.

"Lass, what's the matter?" he asks one night and you sigh. It was time the truth lay in bed with you both. "I don't think we should continue this," you say, trying to keep distance. It was common for you to do this with men you thought were too good to be true for you, you break it off and regret it later. But he is different; you never see life after Johnny because he is it for you.

"Naw, we're no' daein this. Ye cannae just expect me tae accept this," he says with hints of sadness. "Johnny, it's not fair if you say with me. You don't deserve to be with a girl of my size-" you say and he cuts you off. "Don't ye dare finish that thought, bonnie. Ye're this incredible, gorgeous girl an' I'm one lucky bastard tae hae found ye afore another man did. I love ye, I love that silly wee mind, I love wakin' up tae ye beside me," he says and leans in. Your eyes try to play strong against the floods of tears that threaten to drown your eyes.

He takes your hand into his, placing it over his heart, "Ye're this smart, funny, stupid at times," he chuckles and goes on, "..look, whit I'm trying tae say is, I love ye. I dinnae see myself with some lass ye think I deserve, whatever that stupid thing meant. I deserve a bonnie that holds me close when I come home frae work. The kind of lass that takes me tae quiet places because she likes them, the kind of lass that makes me laugh so hard, the kind of lass I see masel' in fifty years," he says before he gets emotional and clears his throat.

"My mum always said, find yer other half, worry about their looks when they are sick and dinnae tell ye. An' damn it, y/n, I worry when ye get sick and don't smile, I worry when ye look in that damn mirror and think tae yersel' that yer body isnae enough. So dinnae tell me yer not enough for me when every damn day I find masel' worshippin' yer body like it's my religion. I fuckin' love you," he says out of breath as he looks into your eyes. His gaze is full of sincerity.

You shake your head. "I'm fat, even if I wanted to, there are things I can't do, I prefer dim lights for sex…I limit your life of adventure by being this way," you say with tears finally falling. "Look at me, I'm just not deserving of you. A guy like you doesn't just magically fall in love with a girl like me!" you say frustrated in wanting him to understand.

"Cut the bullshit, bonnie! I rather die for ye than any other girl! Cannae ye see that ye have bewitched my heart and soul with those sweet eyes and lips? That yer laughter alone makes me a madman when I cannae hear it? I have fallen for ye over and over, and if it takes me lifetimes tae make ye realise I'm the one that needs yer soul attached to mine, then I'll sit and wait for ye tae understand that." he holds both your hands by now as he pulls you in.

"You don't get it-!"

"Maybe I don't, but god damn do I love ye," he says breathlessly and cups your face and without a warning, kisses you like there is no tomorrow.

"Ye are the love of my life. Skinny, tall, fat, short, stupid or smart, I love ye and I fucking love this gorgeous body of yours," he says between pecks to your lips.

Your tears staining your cheeks as he wipes them away and makes you walk to the mirror. "Look at ye, bonnie. Men used to worshipped women like ye,…still do," he mumbles the last part.

You look at him and he smirks. He closes the door and bends you over the sink. "Just look at how I make love tae ye, yeah? If you dinnae believe I love you the way ye are, break up with me," he kisses the back of your neck, taking grip of your hair and slowly parts your legs, undoes your clothes and spits on his fingers.

The euphoria and anticipation built up in Johnny as he let out a chuckle, his hand sliding up your leg to grab your ass. "Yer goin' to make me a madman, ye wee temptress," he whispered, tilting your head down to kiss him. His tongue slithered into your mouth, pressing you against him more, feeling your fingers stroking his hard cock.

His hand slid back to your ass, squeezing it before he turned you around. "Bend over the table and show me that ass," he demanded, his voice a mix of desire and command. He was losing control, thinking of how tight and perfect your ass was.

Your body is the perfect temple for his every loving heart and it's time he worships it again but better this time.

"Fuckin' perfect," Soap praised, eyeing your wet pussy and puckered ass. His cock twitched, feeling his heart pound in his chest. He stepped up, taking one of the lube from the table, unscrewing the cap after squirting it on his fingers. "Ease back against me, lass," he ordered, spreading the lube on your puckered hole.

"Take my fingers," he commanded, coating two fingers in lube before slowly pushing them into your ass. Johnny groaned softly at the sensation, feeling your muscles clench around his fingers. "That's it," he praised, his other hand fondling your pussy, slick with your arousal. The scent of sex filled the air, heavy and intoxicating.

"Come on, lass… Tease me some more," he growled, pulling his fingers out, his cock aching to fill you. Johnny stepped away for a moment to roll a condom onto his cock, grunting with the effort of restraint. When he stepped back, his eyes were dark and intense. "Slip those wee cheeks apart…" He commanded eyes on your ass. "Ye're mine, Y/N."

"Nngh," Johnny groaned, the sight of you eagerly waiting for him driving him over the edge. "Alright, lass, take it," he growled, pushing his cock against your tight entrance. He lined his tip against your tight pussy lips, feeling you quiver even more.

"Ye feel fuckin' amazing, ye know that?" He asked jaw clenched as he slowly pushed himself inside you. Your tight walls engulfed him, sending shivers down his spine. "Such a perfect lass," Johnny moaned, grinding his hips, a bit rougher into yours. He grabbed your hips, holding them tightly, feeling that you were made for his cock.

"Fuckin' take all of me," he growled, pulling back slightly before plunging himself in deep, the sound of their clothes slapping together, your moans and his grunts filled the air. Johnny began to thrust into you, each stroke harder and more intense than the last. His grip on your hips tightened, feeling a roughness in him, a need to claim you. "Ah, ye like that, Y/N…don't ye?" He snarled, his voice bordering on a roar.

His hand snakes to your throat, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. Your body and his move in a cosmically beautiful passion as he makes love to you in the best way he can. Your eyes lock with his, the love he has for you is evident in the soft eyes he gives you. He fucks you like a whore but treats you like the princess you are, and that's what makes this all so beautiful.

Your whimpers, mixed with that beautiful face that is riddled with pleasure makes him chuckle a little. "Oh, ye're beggin' for it. Ye dirty kinky slut," Johnny hissed, his hands leaving your hips, only to grab your hair, yanking your head back into an almost uncomfortable angle. "Take it, take my cock, and scream for me, lass," he demanded, increasing his pace, his thrusts harder, leaving no time to catch your breath.

He leaned down to nibble your neck, "You make me feel alive, ye know that, Y/N? I live for this, for the way I lose myself in ye, for the way ye take my cock so perfectly." Johnny's breathing grew ragged, "Fuck, ye're so tight, so wet."

"I'm gonna cum, deep inside ye. I'm gonna fill ye up," he grunted, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Cum with me, lass. Show me how you feel--" He didn't finish, unable to stop himself as they reached their peak together, his cock pulsing inside you, his cum filling your sweet pussy as he moaned your name, his pleasure ringing through the chamber. "Ah, Y/N…!"

You scream in pleasure his name, earning his pants to get rougher as he so gently kisses your neck. His eyes never leave that sight of you in the mirror.

"Nngh," Johnny groaned, his cock throbbing inside you as he waited for the aftershocks of your orgasm to subside. He waited for your body to steady, enough to pull out without making a mess. "Easy, Y/N," he whispered, slowly pulling out and tucking his spent cock away.

"Ye made me cum so hard, and I love every second of it," he praised, grabbing his clothes. Johnny lifts your chin to look at him. "That was… fuckin' amazing, lass," he admitted, unable to stop a grin.

He brushed the hair back from your face, placing a kiss on your forehead. "Ye always leave me breathless, Y/N," he chuckled, a feral gleam in his eyes.

Your face cooling down as you lean to his kiss your arms wrap around him so beautifully. He lifts you and smiles, "Ye believe me now?" he kisses your cheek and you nod. A moment like this, where you can sit naked in front of him, where it feels like a realistic romance movie, where the girl finds the guy that was made for her.

He truly does love you, no matter the size or shape…or even if others whisper venomous words into your ear. He is the land of peace in which your body has found comfort, the one man that in a sea of snakes and evil standards makes you feel at home, even if you wake up looking like a mess. In this world, he and you stick together, not for the looks or the vanity the world tells you, you must fit in. His love is rare, comes every few lifetimes, it's beautiful and weird like snow at the beach.

A/N: at the end of the day, you need to love yourself, no matter your size of if you meet society's standards of beauty because you are your own standard of beauty. I love you, but I'm sure your love for yourself is stronger <3 (which it should be) Also, only tagged those that let me know they are comfortable with plus size!reader pics and those that I believe dont mind it

Tags:

@honestlyhiswife @ikohniik @who-can-appease-me @konigssultwithghost @lovelyvqer @nobodys-coffee @the_royal_bee @luvecarson @soapybutt17 @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @thegreyjoyed @mychemichalimalance @marshiely @sleepyycatt @noodlezz-bedo @trinthealternate @vampsquerade @azkza @anonymuslydumb

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toa-arania · 5 months ago

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I found Touhou on IMDB and then it got worse.

So there's a bit of a story behind this, as there should be with any post. I have spent the past *checks clock* fifteen minutes and counting losing my goddamn mind over this.

Touhou 1-11, including 7.5 but not 9.5 or 10.5 for some reason, are all on IMDB. This is not that strange, as many video games are listed there for their writing or voice credits. What's weird is how I discovered this. I heard a voice in, of all things, a four and a half hour video about the Lego Ninjago show and how badly it fumbles its women. One of the characters sounded a bit like Azula ATLA so I checked. It was not the same VA. Then I saw this.

And then I saw this.

Now the sharp-witted amongst you may have noticed the tiny little inconsistency that

TOUHOU DOES NOT HAVE VOICE ACTING

Touhou has never had voice acting, especially not back in 2003 when PCB came out. There's also the detail that Layla Prismriver does not appear in PCB, nor does she appear in any Touhou game outside of her mention in the character profile of the Prismrivers, which firmly establishes her as very dead and thusly incapable of speech. You'll be pleased to know that it continues to get worse.

This is not the plot of PCB. What the fuck do you mean only one of these heroines intends to stop it. The cast list is also fucking bizarre.

Merlin and Lunasa are here but fuck Lyrica I guess. Alice and Youmu are not credited and REIMU ISN'T HERE EITHER. Youki Konpaku is credited. Youki Konpaku is not in this game. The goddamn Saigyou Ayakashi (which is spelt disastrously wrong here of course) is given a voice credit. THAT IS A TREE. THAT IS A TREE THAT DOES NOT TALK IN A GAME THAT DOES NOT HAVE VOICE ACTING. I AM GOING INSANE. WHERE IS REIMU.

Now obviously what I did at this point is start checking the other ones, and th8, 9, and 10 don't really have much interesting going on other than a continued and bizarre lack of Reimu in all of them. 6, 7.5, and 11 however are all bizarre for fun new reasons. Let's start with Subterranean Animism and work backwards.

I was suspicious of the lack of images so I went to check all of their pages and they're mostly men as far as I can tell. Most of them are credited in a film called Sule, Ay Need You, which a brief google has only barely convinced me is a real film that exists in the first place. It has a wikipedia article in indonesian. One of them, however (the only one with a picture) has been in eleven million different things with reasonably big parts. I have no idea what's going on here. With the player character situation there are eight characters uncredited not including Koishi, who is also nowhere to be seen (which feels strangely appropriate) and Sanae who I remembered literally as I was typing this is in th11.

Moving on to Immaterial and Missing Power:

TGHAT'S REIMU

Also I'm pretty sure Meiling wasn't in IaMP? (According to a quick google she was added in a patch but not given a story mode). Anyway the sudden appearance of Reimu is the only real interesting thing here because random cast absences are just so commonplace now. Now lastly for the weird fucking pages we have the Embodiment of Scarlet Devil and oh wow this one is something else.

Where do I even begin. Reimu is gone again. Three separate people are credited as Remilia. Actually most characters are credited twice except for Marisa and Sakuya for some reason. Sometimes they specify (voice) and sometimes they just don't. Most characters have [Character Name] and [Character Name (Voice)] which implies that one person is doing mocap or operating a puppet or something while another voices them but then there's just Rumia and Rumia. Who voices Rumia. Remilia has three fucking credits. Marisa and Sakuya get to be normal people. Reimu and Patchouli are just fucking gone. What the hell is happening.

And now it gets stranger once again because I said th1-11 earlier, not th6-11. The PC-98 games are all here too. However. Those pages are all just. Normal. ZUN is credited as the writer. There are correct plot summaries. No voices are credited. The name format is even different (Touhou [Number] [Japanese name]: [English name] instead of just Touhou [Japanese name]: [English name]). They're far too good quality. It honestly feels like whoever uploaded the PC-98 games is a different person to whoever's been doing their bizarre uploads of the windows games.

Now at this point I was looking for other interesting stuff to add - IMDB has Did You Know segments that had fun little details about the games, which seemed to be accurate. It also has a More Like This section linking to the other pages and-

...

Luna Nights is here too.

...

LUNA NIGHTS ALSO DOESN'T HAVE VOICE ACTING!!!!!!!!

#touhou #touhou project #imdb #im fucking astral projecting #my soul has left my body #reimu hakurei #who is worth tagging specifically because of how weird her absence is #genuinely what the fuck is happening here

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missaengg · 18 days ago

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Creating a New, Sinful Tradition

15 Days Until Christmas: Tradition Made for Ikemen Advent hosted by @queengiuliettafirstlady and @candied-boys Featuring: Ikemen Villains Roger Barel x f!reader Tags: smut, humor, modern AU, fingering, size kink Word Count: 1171

It hurts… It hurts... It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurts!

Your nether regions literally feel like they’re being torn apart. Tears sting your eyes. You frantically tap on the beefy man’s shoulders, so worked up you can’t find the words to tell him to stop.

“Roger,” you finally choke out.

The chiseled, Greek statue of a man you love peers down at you with his amber eyes, a look of bewilderment on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“It hurts,” you mewl. “You’re too… too big!”

You hate admitting this to him, especially after all the times you’ve boasted you could take him no problem when he warns you of his size, but also because it would lead to this…

“Heh…” Roger snickers. “Did I not prep you enough to take me?”

Your eyes narrow, your lips pressing into a thin line. You glower at the smug man hovering over you, biting back the desire to slap that infuriating snicker off his arrogant lips because… because how dare he laugh at your suffering?! Sometimes… sometimes he could be such an egotistical, insufferable prick – a prick you love, but still, a prick!

“I told you,” Roger swipes his tongue across the tears that have welled in your eyes, but have yet to fall, “you’d have to take three or four of my fingers before you can take me, sweetheart.”

You frown and look away, somewhat in petulance, somewhat to hide your embarrassment. He’s not wrong. It’s you who demanded for him to skip the step where his fingers pry you open and turn you into a gooey mess, but… ugh, you just can’t stand it when he’s right.

However, embarrassment and hate aside, you’re also confused at how you ended up caged between his thick, mouthwatering arms with his delectable, sculpted ass between your legs. When you suggested the two of you marathon the ‘Home Alone’ series after Thanksgiving dinner – your holiday tradition, you certainly didn’t expect it to lead to… this!

Though in hindsight, when it comes to Roger and the couch and movies, you probably, maybe, should’ve expected it…

“Stop teasing me,” you gripe, shooting him a look that could bring any man to his knees – if that man isn’t Roger.

“But I like teasing you,” he grins, “otherwise how would I get you to cry such delicious tears for me? How else would I” – he drags his tongue along your neck causing you to shiver – “hear you moan just for me?”

“Roger, stop!” You squirm from beneath him, but no matter how much you wriggle, it doesn’t matter. He has you caged so tight, there’s no possible way you can escape.

“That’s right, lil lady, keep calling my name.”

You huff, an annoyed grumble rising in your throat, but when he reaches that ticklish spot under your ear, it changes into a sultry moan.

“Mm, just like that. Keep moaning for me.”

Roger’s mouth sucks on that bit of sensitive flesh, and your back – the traitor – arches of its own accord. A faint thought that no amount of concealer would be able to hide the blooming, angry bruise on your skin crosses your hazy mind. It flies away the moment Roger’s hand finds its way to your clit.

“Roger, the movie!” you protest, but it comes out half-heartedly, a shaky whimper rather than a true protest.

“Don’t care about the movie,” he says, his breath prickling your skin. “It’s a shit movie anyway.”

“Hey!” You open your mouth, ready to shoot him a scathing rebuttal because how dare he insult your favorite Christmas movie of all time, but a startled gasp leaves your lips when he takes that opportunity to slip in his thick pointer.

“I don’t think you care about the movie either, sweetheart,” he teases, his amber eyes gleefully taking in the tremor coursing through your body. “That’s one.”

Roger curls his finger, and your eyes flutter shut. Your hands on his shoulders clench. Your fingers dig into the taut muscle underneath.

How was it possible for him to drive you insane with just one of his fat fingers?!

Roger slips in a second finger and slowly begins to pump his hand, the ridges of his joint dragging as they slide in and out. “That’s two,” he smirks. “You like that, don’t you?”

“No,” you spit out between grit teeth.

“Can’t lie to me, sweetheart.” Roger pulls his fingers out, spreading them apart. The slick evidence of your arousal stretches between his fingers. “Your body tells me everything.” He plunges his fingers back, this time adding a third – his ring finger. “That’s three.”

You feel your entrance fluttering around his digits, struggling to accommodate the width of all three of them combined. Even with just his fingers, you can feel yourself stretching to what feels like your limit, despite the fact this isn’t the first time the two of you have been intimate.

“Come on,” he coos. “You can do it.”

“Roger, you’re too…ngh… fucking big.”

“I thought you liked that,” Roger blithely responds.

You roll your eyes at him, but they’re interrupted when he sinks his fingers down to the knuckles, your eyes rolling back into your head.

“Fuu–-uck,” you scream, your hips jerking up to meet his palm.

“I like it when you scream for me.”

Normally his throaty whisper would drive you to glare at him, but with his fingers buried inside of you, you don’t care. You just want him to do something about the growing ache in your loins.

“Roger, your fingers–”

“Hm, what’s that, sweetheart?” He has that shit-eating grin you love and hate on his face.

“Roger,” you grumble.

“Okay, okay, calm your tits,” he laughs. “If that’s what you want, I’ll oblige.”

Roger pulls his fingers out and drives them back in, the tips tickling your cervix in the process. You groan, rocking your hips to match his rhythm, your breasts flush against his firm, broad chest.

Just then, the sound of machine gunfire floats into your ear along with the iconic line, ‘Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal, and a Happy New Year’.

Your muddled mind pops out of the pleasure it's roiled in, your attention back on the movie playing on the TV. Right, you almost forgot. Your Christmas tradition.

“Roger, the movie,” you urgently whisper.

Roger leans in, his mouth right by your ear. “Sweetheart, right now I’m more concerned about making you come, and when you do, you’re going to take me like the good little girl you are.”

“But, Roger, my Christmas tradition…”

Roger strokes that sweet spot within you, sending electricity coursing through your veins and forcing any and all thoughts about your tradition out of your mind. “I was thinking,” he murmurs, his voice enticingly, spine-tinglingly husky, “we could start a new tradition. One where you turn on that stupid movie, and I pound you senseless.”

Your Roger-drunk mind immediately hums in agreement, especially when his fingers send another wave of sparks careening down your spine.

Traditions… traditions are meant to be broken… right?

#missaengg writes #IkemenAdvent #roger barel x you #ikevil roger x reader #roger barel #ikevil roger #ikevil roger barel #ikemen villains roger #ikevil smut #ikemen villains smut #ikevil #ikemen villains #ikevil fanfic #ikevil fanfiction #ikemen villains fanfic #ikemen villains fanfiction

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forestdeath1 · 10 months ago

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Canon Sirius through quotes

Part 2. Intelligence and recklessness. Sirius Black (and James Potter, with a bit of Remus and Peter too)

Or who is the smartest of the Marauders?

Sirius and James are described multiple times as exceptionally intelligent. They didn’t need help from Remus or Lily to pass their exams. James didn’t envy Sirius for being ahead academically, and Sirius didn’t ask Remus for help. They could handle everything on their own.

For example, McGonagall rarely gives praise without good reason. Here are her words about James (often unfairly depicted as less intelligent than Sirius or Remus) and Sirius:

‘Precisely,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course – exceptionally bright, in fact – but I don’t think we’ve ever had such a pair of troublemakers –’

Being "exceptionally bright" is an extremely high praise for intellectual ability from McGonagall.

As for Peter, she speaks rather average of him:

‘Pettigrew... that fat little boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?’ said Madam Rosmerta. ‘Hero-worshipped Black and Potter,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I – how I regret that now...’ She sounded as though she had a sudden head cold.

Moreover, Peter "was always hopeless at duelling," according to McGonagall. This means that over 7 years, Peter failed to impress McGonagall with his academic achievements. As the head of his house, she was aware of all his grades. Perhaps he was just an average student, but then it's unclear why McGonagall was "often rather sharp with him." She doesn't seem like the type to be sharp over trivial matters.

Slughorn:

‘Well, anyway, he (Sirius) was a big pal of your father’s at school. The whole Black family had been in my house, but Sirius ended up in Gryffindor! Shame – he was a talented boy. I got his brother Regulus when he came along, but I’d have liked the set.’

While Lupin’s words might be biased, he often speaks quite judiciously about people around him, thus:

"Look, Harry, what you’ve got to understand is that your father and Sirius were the best in the school at whatever they did – everyone thought they were the height of cool – if they sometimes got a bit carried away –"

He confirms that Sirius and James were the best at everything in school. Meaning academically first of all, because school is primarily about studying.

"It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school, and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong – one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it."

And a bit more praise from Lupin towards Sirius and James' giftedness. They were both gifted – Sirius and James.

Even Dumbledore acknowledges:

‘Sirius told me all about how they became Animagi last night,’ said Dumbledore, smiling. ‘An extraordinary achievement – not least, keeping it quiet from me.’

So, not only did they become Animagi (Peter wasn’t much help, according to Lupin), created the Marauder's Map, which contained very unusual magic (they, of course, all created the Map together, but based on the description above, I can assume that the main magical component of the map was the responsibility of James and Sirius), excelled in their studies, created a magical FaceTime – an artefact for communication among themselves, they also managed to keep a lot from the school's headmaster and other teachers. Intelligence plus cunning.

Sirius and James' reaction to others' "stupidity":

‘How thick are you, Wormtail?’ said James impatiently. ‘You run round with a werewolf once a month –’

‘Keep your voice down,’ implored Lupin.

‘Well, I thought that paper was a piece of cake,’ he heard Sirius say. ‘I’ll be surprised if I don’t get “Outstanding” on it at least.’

‘Me too,’ said James.

Here, I don’t want to dwell on their rudeness, but rather on the reaction itself. Often Lupin is seen studying more than anyone (I too like to see him buried in books), but perhaps Lupin simply needed to study more to pass his exams. He buried himself in textbooks not because he was the smartest, but because it was necessary for him. Remus is clearly not dumb; he became a professor at Hogwarts, he’s also described as intelligent in the canon, but things came much easier to James and Sirius, and they were well aware of how smart they were. Hence their reaction. When a teenager is confident in their superiority, and their intellect is often validated by external factors (grades, teachers' praise), such a reaction from James and Sirius, considering their personalities, is quite expected for their still maturing characters.

‘We’ve still got Transfiguration, if you’re bored you could test me. Here...’ and he (Lupin) held out his book.

But Sirius snorted. ‘I don’t need to look at that rubbish, I know it all.’

Sirius' reaction is unequivocal. He doesn’t need to read anything like Lupin, memorising paragraphs. To him, it’s all "rubbish" that he already knows. Sirius likely had a very good long-term memory.

Sirius' memory and attention to detail even after 12 years in Azkaban are also quite remarkable.

"Congratulations on getting past the Horntail, whoever put your name in that Goblet shouldn’t be feeling too happy right now! I was going to suggest a Conjunctivitis curse, as a dragon’s eyes are its weakest point –"

‘That’s what Krum did!’ Hermione whispered.

Clearly, during his 12 years in Azkaban, he didn’t need this knowledge. It’s unlikely he ever used this knowledge in practice. But he remembered it, ready to mention it right away, not having peeked in any books. Even Hermione didn’t know.

‘My God,’ said Lupin softly, staring from Scabbers to the picture in the paper and back again.

‘His front paw...’

‘What about it?’ said Ron defiantly.

‘He’s got a toe missing,’ said Black.

And this is about his attentiveness. To notice that a rat is missing a toe from a small photograph while sitting in Azkaban… I wouldn’t have noticed even without Azkaban.

As for adult Sirius, the fourth book shows many of Sirius' reasonable assumptions that eventually are confirmed. What people mistake for stupidity is his recklessness, as well as his willingness to die for those he loves, to protect them at any cost. His recklessness is usually related to this.

‘The Ministry’s forced through another decree, which means we’re not allowed to have Quidditch teams –’

‘Or secret Defence Against the Dark Arts groups?’ said Sirius. There was a short pause.

‘How did you know about that?’ Harry demanded.

‘You want to choose your meeting places more carefully,’ said Sirius, grinning even more broadly.

‘The Hog’s Head, I ask you.’

‘Well, it was better than the Three Broomsticks!’ said Hermione defensively. ‘That’s always packed with people –’

‘Which means you’d have been harder to overhear,’ said Sirius. ‘You’ve got a lot to learn, Hermione.’

Hermione is very smart, but Sirius immediately explains their tactical mistake. But it still sounds somewhat condescending.

‘But, Sirius, this is taking an awful risk –’ Hermione began.

‘You sound like Molly,’ said Sirius. ‘This was the only way I could come up with answering Harry’s letter without resorting to a code – and codes are breakable.’

It might seem reckless, but he's right, codes can be cracked. And he really wanted to reply to his godson – it's more about his inability to refuse the only living person he loves now and his desire to protect him.

Sirius repeatedly makes correct deductions in the fourth book, here are a couple of examples, but generally, the fourth book is full of rational remarks, assumptions, and overall, he's ready to provide Harry with information, especially in the fifth book, when Harry is having the toughest time and most people simply refuse to tell him anything.

‘Yeah, and Dumbledore said it happened whenever Voldemort was feeling a powerful emotion,’ said Harry, ignoring, as usual, Ron and Hermione’s winces. ‘So maybe he was just, I dunno, really angry or something the night I had that detention.’

‘Well, now he’s back it’s bound to hurt more often,’ said Sirius.

‘So you don’t think it had anything to do with Umbridge touching me when I was in detention with her?’ Harry asked.

‘I doubt it,’ said Sirius. ‘I know her by reputation and I’m sure she’s no Death Eater –’

‘Now, I’ve been keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet, Harry –’

‘You and the rest of the world,’ said Harry bitterly.

‘– and, reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman’s article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm,’ Sirius said hastily, seeing Harry about to speak, ‘but I don’t think so, somehow. I think someone tried to stop him getting to Hogwarts. I think someone knew their job would be a lot more difficult with him around. And no one’s going to look into it too closely, Mad-Eye’s heard intruders a bit too often. But that doesn’t mean he can’t still spot the real thing. Moody was the best Auror the Ministry ever had.’

And much more.

For Harry in the fourth and fifth books, Sirius became the one who supported him and provided information, and all his attempts to break through to Harry, risking being caught – this is an expression of love and desire to help his godson. It's precisely in such moments that his recklessness is revealed – when he wants to help.

Moreover Sirius often gives Harry good advice, there is just one example:

‘Don’t lose your temper,’ said Sirius abruptly. ‘Be polite and stick to the facts.’

‘Good luck,’ said Lupin.

‘I’m sure it will be fine.’ ‘And if it’s not,’ said Sirius grimly, ‘I’ll see to Amelia Bones for you...’

Here's the interweaving of Sirius' rationality and recklessness. He knows the right way. But he himself is ready to throw himself into the line of fire. He never gave Harry impulsive advice. But when it comes to himself or when someone needs protecting, Sirius has a different standard of normalcy.

In conclusion, throughout the series, Sirius makes a number of insightful remarks, and his intelligence and giftedness are exceptionally highly regarded by Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Lupin. I wouldn’t attribute his pathological desire to help those he loves to stupidity. Furthermore, adult Sirius shows recklessness mainly when it concerns his own safety and life — he doesn't cherish his own life if it means the well-being of someone he loves, thus he readily throws himself into danger.

Sirius was a brave, clever and energetic man, and such men are not usually content to sit at home in hiding while they believe others to be in danger. (Dumbledore)

#sirius black #james potter #remus lupin #the marauders meta #hp meta #sirius black meta #peter pettigrew

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starberry-cupcake · 9 months ago

Text

This is a one chapter update because this chapter was 25 years long and I don't want my post to be also that long, even though you're all being super nice about it (thank you ♥).

previously, in harroweena the ninth:

this happened

now, chapter 6:

harrowbean wakes up and is taken somewhere in a wheelchair

we get no sleep in this ship

we get no face paint, no black robes, no sleep, no security from people who wanna suffocate you in your sleep, no explanations

lyctors need a union

as in unionization, not as in a combination of people, that they did when slurping their cavaliers

the person carrying her is very upset at everyone

turns out, she's a lyctor

her name is mercysomething

we have an ortus 2, a mercysomething and an augustine

harrow mentions eyes again and says that Lyctors "kept their own faces, but the eyes they stole from someone else. You had been lucky that your own transition was not as startling"

Lucky, you say...

I don't know about that

anyway, this mercysomething is supposed to be the saint of joy

I'm assuming lyctors are given their names through the ancient art of sarcasm

on that note

harrow: "if you had not of late become the Saint of Emesis"

me: wait, I gotta look something up real quick

me: yeah, that's funny

mercysomething is angry and in a hurry

a bunch of time is spent with mercysomething being angry and treating people like crap and being unpleasant

she's arguing with everyone she comes across and takes harrow to a hangar

yandere twin is sitting on a crate watching a necromancer make a ward with blood and bleeding to death in the process

harrow sits next to her and they are like sportscasters of blood-painted wards

according to the necrocasters, it's a ghost ward

yandere twin updates harrow on the fact that they're at war and they've been attacked and they're down to three Old Lyctors and two Baby Lyctors

it would explain why mercysomething is upset all the time

mercysomething wants to take the emperor somewhere else and the guy commanding the ship doesn't want to let him leave

emperor guy comes in and kind of does this to mercysomething

yandere twin and I are LIVING for all this pute/salseo/gossip/however you wanna call it

harrow isn't as interested

I complained in gideon because gideon wasn't interested in things I wanted to look into and now I'm gonna complain about harrow not being interested in Drama

emperor the fool says: "I know exactly who is behind this terrible blow, and they were fools to show their hand"

yandere twin and I

when emperor guy sees the necromancer bleeding out he goes "for fuck's sake"

it's a quote, not me being funny ha ha

remember when I said this guy is a mess?

that's becoming exponentially more evident

I want to punch him in the face at all times

I don't know how people can be respectful to this dude

the reason there isn't any face paint for harrow in this ship is that the emperor uses it every morning to paint on his clown face

they've been alive like 1000 years or whatnot and they're all a fucking group project going off the rails

so emperor guy, mercysomething, not!dulcinea (now in a coffin package), yandere twin and harrow get in a ship inside the ship

a smaller ship inside the big ship where the emperor has been for the past bunch of years

the small ship has the blood ward for the ghosts

but, before going in, emperor the fool fixes the necro that's bleeding to death

I honestly think she would have preferred to just die

which, same, if he was my boss

necros also need to unionize

cavaliers more than anyone tbh

if cavaliers unionized, idk if there would be any lyctors

emperor guy and mercysomething argue about people they know and we don't yet know

and mercysomething was telling harrow previously that the former ninth was prettier than her (anastasia, heart don't fail me now, courage don't desert me) and telling yandere twin the former third was prettier than her (cyrus? cyril? something like that)

which, absolutely juvenile behavior for someone who's like a 1000+ years of age or whatever

why would we care who she finds prettier????

ANYWAY, throughout this I was once again thinking

nobody here has G & P initials

it's been driving me mad this whole time

gideon and harrow found that former lyctor quarters

and it said "ONE FLESH, ONE END. G. & P."

that was before the note with gideon's name in it was read

and all this time I was thinking those were a set of necro-cav from the previous lyctors

but nobody here has those initials

the only P is the cavalier of Ortus 2 and there's no G

which is DRIVING ME MAD

if the G is the previous Gideon, the one not!dulcinea mentioned, it would explain why there was a note that mentioned a Gideon in the quarters

it would not, however, explain who the fuck that other gideon is, who P is and why they aren't in the list with the other combos

augustine is a former fifth because his cav's last name is quinque

mercysomething's from the eighth because her cav's last name is oct, and because she's annoying to be around

ortus 2 is from the second, because his cav's last name is dve

cyril cyrus whatev is from the third because the cav is trinit and mercysomething mentioned him to yandere twin, who is from the third

ulysses is from the fourth because the cav is tetra

not!dulcinea is seventh because the cav was heptane and because it was a very important thing in the previous book, as we've established

anastasia (dancing bears, painted wings) is from the ninth because the cav is novenary and she was mentioned to harrow

cassiopeia must be sixth, because it's what I have left, but I don't recognize the root of the last name to make a clear parallel from the top of my head

the emperor's guardian is A.L.

I'm taking note of an emperor's guardian who isn't around anymore

could it be ice cube barbie???? idk fam, she's looking at him a lot

giving me magic knight rayearth vibes again

this but with backstabbing instead of love

ANYWAY, all of this to point out that there's no G & P and it's driving me up the wall

now, to a very important thing

VERY IMPORTANT

for me, maybe it's just me

the enemies or whatever are called "remnants" and their leader apparently has been gone for "nearly 20 years"

this is me desperately making timelines with gideon's mom and gideon's birth and the 2 details I know about gideon's mom and her birth

you know what, I'm gonna quote, since I went to fetch it

"One day eighteen years ago, Gideon's mother had tumbled down the middle of the shaft in the drag chute and a battered hazard suit, like some moth drifting slowly down into the dark. The suit had been out of power for a couple of minutes. The woman landed brain-dead. All the battery power had been sucked away by a bio-container plugged into the suit, the kind you'd carry a transplant limb in, and inside that container was Gideon, only a day old."

I'm gonna just...put a pin on that that in the cork board

I don't know you guys, I'm just gonna

let me pin that

I'm probably being wrong a lot more than what I'm getting right but I'm just telling you what goes through my mind, if I'm making a fool of myself, it's too late to act like I'm not a fool

I am also putting my clown paint on like the emperor

MOVING ON

harrow thinks the emperor talks in plural about her at one point and idk if that's the case tbh

we then get emperor guy explaining how they need to go to their safe space base with a name I can't remember

a fancy name very lord-of-the-rings-y

let's call it emperor's mojo dojo casa house

and to get there as quick as they need to, they have to cut through the River

the one with the ghosties and ghoulies

that's what the ward was for

if they went through regular means, it'd take too long and, doing it this way, they could be there super fast, but they need to get in the River and come out the other way in the right spot

and intact

so it's this situation

so, in order to do that, they have to hold on to their souls and their cav souls and whatever they've got using the skills from the first test

I want to point out, once again, WHO PLANNED CANAAN HOUSE AS A TOOL TO GET LYCTORS TO LEARN THINGS?????

THEY WERE NOT DOING ALL THE TESTS

THEY WERE FIGHTING FOR THE KEYS

SOME DIDN'T EVEN KNOW THERE WERE TESTS TO BEGIN WITH

JUDITH WAS LIVING IN LAW AND ORDER

we didn't even get to all the tests, people started dropping like flies

because the emperor had one loose lyctor who thought she was in a telenovela

ANYWAY

the point is, if they drift too far while crossing the River, something else can come into their bodies

we did learn that, because it happened to duracell bunny nephew back in canaan house

but we learned it because mayonnaise uncle thought he was tough shit and ruined it, not because of the tests

harrow, doing her best, thinks "you felt alone in your head"

WHICH IS GREAT for our gideon notes

also, no camilla mention or appearance in this one

(I'm having a lizzie bennet theme going on for Reasons for the time being)

so, we're leaving harrow and yandere twin trying to learn for the first time how to not die by crossing the River because the emperor plans things terribly and mercysomething is too preoccupied being upset at everything all the time

#luly reacts to tlt #harrow the ninth #harrow the ninth spoilers #tlt spoilers #the locked tomb #long post #gif cw

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beegomess · 5 months ago

Text

Dark Paradise | Theodore Nott

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated 🫶🏼

01. Invisible Flirts

The music was loud, and there was a lot of noise from some students around Matthew, who was trying to down an entire bottle of Firewhisky. Pansy and Y/N had drinks in hand when they threw themselves onto the dark couch next to Draco and Blaise.

Draco and Zabini were sharing a joint when the blond offered it to the sister sitting next to Pansy.

— You’re a terrible brother, you know that? — Y/N had a smile as she reached out to take it between her fingers and took a drag.

— Imagine if our father saw you now? — Everyone burst into laughter; Draco and Blaise couldn’t stop laughing, considering their eyes were already extremely red.

— What are you guys laughing so much about? — Nott approached and sat in an armchair in front of his friends.

— You missed the big joke Draco told about what it would be like if your father saw them now. — Pansy said, emphasizing that it wasn’t really funny, just that they were very high. — Where have you been anyway? I haven’t seen you all night. — Parkinson hinted.

— Around. — Nott answered simply and noticed the attention he was getting from Y/N’s eyes while she took another drag of her cigarette. Theodore didn’t look away from Y/N, which would normally make her look away from him, but in her current state, embarrassment was not an issue. However, both their faces were expressionless, revealing nothing about each other.

Y/N only looked away when she saw Astoria Greengrass, a year younger than Daphne, making out with Adrian Pucey in the middle of the party. Daphne walked past the two and made a face of disgust, making Pansy and Y/N laugh. Pansy glanced to see that Theodore still hadn’t looked away from Y/N.

— What’s her plan this time? — Pansy asked Daphne, who was sitting on the coffee table between the sofas, turning her back to Theodore.

— According to her, the plan is to hook up with someone from Draco’s social circle and get closer to Y/N. — Daphne rolled her eyes as she spoke, and everyone began to pay attention, letting out small laughs.

— Is she really getting close to me just out of interest? — Y/N put her right hand on her chest, pretending to be offended by the revelation.

— Yes, but she always talks about how she thinks you’re pretty and that she wanted to be friends with you too. — Daphne said with irony, somewhat coldly as she laughed at her sister.

— Oh Merlin, she thinks like she’s five years old. — Theodore added, drawing everyone’s attention to him quickly.

— Well, I’m sure you didn’t mention that Pucey was once one of the lucky ones Y/N got physically involved with. — Pansy said, expecting a response from Daphne.

— Believe me, I did. — Y/N looked incredulous. — That’s why he was the chosen one for the night. — The three girls burst into laughter.

— Good to know you’re passing along things about my private life. — Y/N said playfully, as she didn’t really mind the situation.

However, Theodore, who was paying more attention to the conversation, just drank his drink, without laughing or reacting to it. He was only thinking about how Y/N managed to silence Adrian so he wouldn’t spread to everyone that he was with the most popular and desired girl at Hogwarts.

[...]

At breakfast, all the friends had a clear expression of exhaustion from the previous night. It was certainly not a good idea to have parties before a day of classes.

— Good morning. — Astoria approached the group cheerfully but didn’t receive the same enthusiasm.

— Shh, no need to shout, Greengrass. — Blaise had his eyes squinted due to the light in the Great Hall. He was exaggerating; the girl spoke normally, but he seemed too sensitive.

— Sorry. — She shrugged. — I just thought I’d invite you to go dress shopping tomorrow for the winter ball next week. — Y/N, Pansy, and Daphne exchanged glances, remembering the girl's plan to get closer to them, even though she already had friends in her year. — Adrian invited me yesterday to go with him, and I accepted.

— Now, if he remembers that, that’s another thing. — Matthew, who was next to Y/N, spoke quietly and laughed. He immediately received an elbow from Y/N.

— Ouch!

— Sorry, but my mother already sent me a dress for the ball. — Y/N said gently.

— Oh, and who are you going with? — The girl seemed to no longer care about the description. Everyone in the hall fell silent, waiting for Draco’s sister’s answer. Y/N felt the pressure; she knew that if she said she was going alone, her week would be full of boys chasing her, and under the pressure of the moment, she needed to think quickly.

— I’m going with Theodore, aren’t I, Theodore? — Her answer echoing throughout the hall made the eyes widen. Nott looked up, somewhat surprised, until she nudged his leg from under the table, making him clear his throat with the contact.

— Yes... Yes, we’re going together. — All the friends looked at them in confusion. Draco had his eyebrows furrowed; they had never been close, and now they were going to the ball together?

— Enough with the interrogation! — Daphne said, giving her sister a fierce look. — Don’t you have a class now?

Everyone continued with breakfast after the younger Greengrass left. Pansy wouldn’t have the next class with Y/N but made a mental note to ask her about this news. She wondered if something was going on between them; she wouldn’t be surprised. Y/N always knew how to hide her affairs very well.

Y/N, however, tried to sit next to Theodore in Potions class, but when she arrived, there was already a Hufflepuff sitting next to him. Y/N mentally cursed herself for not hurrying at breakfast. Theodore was very handsome and never lacked options for girls, and now, close to the ball, all of them were throwing themselves at him, even though they had heard minutes ago about him being Y/N Malfoy’s date.

The girl sat at the table behind him and decided to pass him a folded note while everyone began taking notes from the board.

"Thanks for this morning; if I told the truth, I wouldn’t be at peace this week. I hope I haven’t ruined any of your invitations to other girls; in fact, I’ll see someone else to go with me today, I promise."

Theodore took the note and smiled slightly as he read, the girl next to him seemed to try to stretch to read his reply.

"Don’t worry, I didn’t have anyone in mind to bring either. We can go together if you want..."

Y/N took the folded piece of parchment from her side of the table and smiled as well at the reply.

"Although I don’t believe that Theodore Nott, so acclaimed among the girls, doesn’t have any prospects, I accept to go with you."

And again, the few words made him smile, responding with one last thing.

"I’m pleased to know about my fame among you."

Y/N laughed at the response, drawing attention in the silent room.

— Am I interrupting something, Miss Malfoy? — Snape looked coldly at her, making her immediately stop smiling.

— Oh, no. Sorry, professor. — And then, quickly, he went back to teaching.

Throughout the rest of the day, Y/N felt strange. His gaze was still extremely indecipherable to her, but it attracted her more and more. In recent months, their glances seemed to have increased in frequency. Sometimes, they would catch each other looking. Y/N felt Nott observing her while she read in the common room late at night. It was her ritual to always read a bit when the common room was empty; she liked to enjoy the silence, but when Theodore noticed the habit, he started to "accidentally" find her there day after day.

"If I didn’t know you, I’d say you were following me." Y/N said, smiling at him one night. Theodore could say it was the first time he felt truly nervous around a girl, but he maintained his composure and just smiled, staying there in silence while watching her hands turn the pages.

— And what’s this about you going to the ball with Nott? — Pansy asked, putting on a pair of socks before getting into bed.

— Good point, Pans. — Daphne turned from the vanity where she was applying products to her face. — So, Y/N?

— It was just to throw off the other boys. — She said without taking her eyes off the book.

— So, you’re not really going with him? — Pansy insisted.

— I am; we’re short on dates and decided to leave it that way. — Y/N continued scanning the words on the page.

— You and Nott? Short on dates for a ball? — Y/N nodded, pretending indifference. — Hmm, right, I see. — Pansy said with a mischievous smile, hinting at something that Y/N chose to ignore, as Parkinson often did this just by talking to another boy.

_______________________________

xoxo, bee🫶🏼✨ next chapter>>>

#theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott smut #slytherin #y/n #draco x reader #harrypotter #harry potter #hp #tom riddle #draco #draco malfoy #mattheo riddle #theodore nott x y/n

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sawtastic-sideblog · 3 months ago

Text

Damien Haas x female!reader

Before we starting would like to say that the only thing I've written in months is research papers for school but I have finally written for Damien for the first time in years.

So just a couple things to keep in mind (triggers) there's talk of a horrible aunt and bad childhood and there are brief mentions of parental death and self harm I think that's it but if anything else let me know and I'll add it here.

That being said it's probably bad. To try to excuse it I was woken up early this morning and I've had a migraine since Thursday but I also feel like I'm not a great writer.

Anyway

Enjoy this Damien fluff

"Hello and welcome to Smosh Mouth. I'm Shayne."

"I'm Amanda. Welcome Damien to our table of discussions."

"Hi, thank you. I'm so excited to be here. Big fan, big fan," Damien says, pretending to be nervous. They continue on with the conversation as you set your phone down to go do your normal Saturday chores.

You haven't had the time to listen to the newest Smosh Mouth this week. You've been incredibly busy with online school and being sick. Yes, you realize that you are older than most of your classmates, but you're proud of yourself for going back to pursue a degree in your interest. You have no plans to leave Smosh, but you really wanted this degree just to prove to your childhood self that you could.

Education was always super important to you and you never had the opportunity to go to college right out of high school. You taught yourself how to edit and put in many, many applications everywhere. Finally, after five years of trying to break into the industry, you got an email back from Smosh. You cried and screamed and jumped for joy when you landed the interview and when you got the editor position you sobbed. Partially out of happiness and excitement, but mostly out of relief.

When you were told the amount of money you'd be paid, you were shocked. You knew that you'd save it and use it for school. So, after working at Smosh for a year, you applied for online classes and haven't looked back sense. Only a few people know about you being in school, Ian, Anthony, anyone that you'd need to report to for you job, your best friends at work, Angela, Amanda, and Chanse, your brother, Jack, and his wife, Bella.

You have always been close to your brother despite a seven year age gap. He was on the football team in high school and college. Both teams absolutely adored you and you became the unofficial mascot. Where he went, you went and vice versa. You knew it was just to get you out of the house and away from your crazy aunt.

Your parents passed in a car accident when you were three and your mother's resentful sister was the closest relative who was able to take care of you. She was incredibly strict when it came to you. Jack could do whatever he pleased. You had to cook, clean, learn to sew, and basically just learn how to be a woman, according to Aunt Virginia. She tried to keep you from going to school and Jack would make sure you went. He would make sure you were able to do your homework and do whatever you wanted to do. It was a rough time, especially after Virginia kicked Jack out when he and his college sweetheart, Bella found out they were expecting without being married. You stayed there on your own for nine years becaue Virginia wouldn't let you leave. Discouraged it and made it impossible for you to move out in your home town.

When you got the job at Smosh, you had two months to find a place, move, and get settled. You had told Jack and he immediately told you that he was coming with you.

"What about Bella and Sadie?"

"They'll come with us, silly. Once we get out there, Bells can find work as a nurse, we can enroll Sadie in a good school, and I'll even look for something other than news station camera man."

"Are you sure? Sadie is only twelve she's going to resent you for making her leave her friends."

"Yeah, we've actually been planning to do this anyway. She's super excited about it. That dinner we have planned on Friday was when we were gonna tell you and tell you that you're coming with us. I guess we have to move our plans up."

That's what you did. Bella and Sadie went out there first and got the apartment settled as Jack trained his replacement and you slowly moved what little you had from Virginia's house, to Jack's. Then, in the middle of the night, you vanished. You didn't leave a note because why would you want the hateful old bitch to know where you went?

On your first day of work, Jack took you. You thought he was just going to drop you off but followed you inside.

"What are you doing?"

"I have an interview."

He got the job and now you two were known as one of the many dynamic duos. You're quiet and only really talk to Jack, Amanda, Chanse, or Angela. You do talk to Kiana, Tommy, and Spencer, but not as much as the others. You stayed behind the camera, but somehow became well known in the Fandom for your unique editing that captured the audience and enhanced the joke.

Your first "on camera" appearance was during the Shayne Guesses whre he guessed childhood photos. You submitted one of you in Jack's football helmet, hair covered, eyes almost fully obscured.

"Okay, this isn't fair. I can't see the hair or the eyes very well," Shayne complained.

"Yeah, but I thought this one was cuter. Once you see the answer you'll understand," Spencer explained.

After six months of working at Smosh, you could move into your own apartment. You stayed close to Jack, but you finally got your own space. That you always do a general clean of on Saturdays while listening to a podcast or the newest Reddit Stories before catching up of any homework you need to get done. Which is what you're doing now.

"Your can think your friends are beautiful. Like they have beautiful moments," Amanda says as you place the last of your dishes into the cabinet.

"Yeah, of course," Shayne agrees.

"Yeah, totally. I actually have an observation of a beautiful friend of ours," Damien annouces. Amanda gasps.

"Tell us, tell us, tell us," Amanda all but chants as you start a reset on your living room. Shayne and Damien both chuckle.

"Okay, so we have a couple of friends who work on the crew," he begins. He goes on to reveal the story is mainly about you. "We were at Jack's wedding about a week ago and I just saw her dancing with her niece, and smiling, and having fun. I know that she works hard. She comes in before us and stays until the slack message kicks her out. Then she goes home to do school work." Your head whips around to your phone and you make your way over to it.

"How do you know about that?" Amanda asks.

"Angela mentioned it. Is it something that I shouldn't know?"

"Uh, I'm not sure. I thought everyone knew, but we just didn't talk about it."

"What is she in school for?" Shayne asks. Amanda answers with you special interest and Damien takes the reigns of the conversation again.

"Anyway, I just know she has to be stressed out. I mean, I'm assuming and if I'm wrong I will apologize, but it just sounds like a super stressful situation to be in. Seeing her just let loose and have fun at the reception, after really only seeing her stone faced or with a small smile while talking to Jack. She was laughing, like throwing her head back laughing, and jumping and dancing with Jack and his wife and daughter. I saw her dancing with you, Angela, and Chanse at one point." Amanda nods at this.

"Yeah. I remember dancing to Take a Chance by Abba and we all just took turns pulling Chanse around," she beams as her tablemates laugh. They go off on a quick tangent about their time on the dancing floor and how, somehow, Bella, a Smosh fan since 2007, got Ian and Anthony to do a double decker twerk in their very nice suits.

"Yeah, but seeing her loving life and looking like she didn't have a care in the world other than celebrating her brother and sister in law and niece and the love they have for one another. I mean she was the best lady and we found out during speeches, which is the most I've heard her speak by the way, that they didn't have a greatest of childhoods, which just made the looks of pure happiness of her face so amazing. She was truly beautiful and I'll carry that memory with me for as long as she allows me to know her."

"I know what you mean. I didn't know she had teeth until the wedding. Like, she never smiles," Shayne jokes.

"I know she's not here today, but I hope she watches this when it comes out. Hopefully it'll make her feel better and it'll help her get over whatever it is she has quicker," Amanda says.

"Yeah, if you're watching this while you're still sick, feel better!" Damien says. You smile and wipe at your eyes as they change the subject to something else. You'd never really spoken Damien and you only speak to Shayne when Courtney pulls you into a conversation and he walks up to speak. But knowing that these guys consider you not only a friend but beautiful, as well, makes your heart swell a little.

A timer goes off on your phone just as the episode ends and you quickly pull up the newest Reddit Stories video, after turning off the timer. You go back to the kitchen and take the last dose of your medicine. You had somehow caught bronchitis and have been out of work for a week, but you finally felt better and wanted to get back into your normal routine.

You hear a text notification as you enter your living room and walk over to your phone again. It's a text from Ian.

Hey, I hope you're feeling better. Alé had notes from the all hands meeting sent to your email. We're going to have another one on Monday if you can make it.

Hey Ian, I feel great, thanks. Doctor cleared me yesterday. I'll be there!

He just sends back a thumbs up emoji. You chuckle and get back to your cleaning.

Monday morning rolls around and you are in the office by seven thirty, trying to get a head start on footage that had been give to you. By eleven you'd made good progress and Tommy had to physically pull you from your desk.

You sit at a table in the back with you laptop open to your school stuff. Your habit for every all hands meeting since nobody every sat near you. That is until today.

You can feel the nervous energy radiating off of Angela as she sits down beside you.

"I'm so sorry."

"Why?"

"Because I let it slip to Damien that you're in school."

"It's okay. It was bound to come out sooner or later. Especially with my associates degree coming to me in the mail soon."

"What? No way!" Angela shouts, gaining attention from a few people. You smile softly as you make eye contact with Chanse before rolling your eyes. He laughs as your eyes move to the figure sitting beside him. Your eyes meet Damien's and you give him the same small, but now nervous, smile you gave Chanse. You turn your attention back to Angela.

"Yeah, Gen Ed finally done," you say as you pull up the email. Angela makes noises of excitement as she reads, earning more stares. You try to hide behind the laptop, but you know you've been seen. Your face heats up and you pull the hood of your jacket over you hair. "Angela, please. You're making a scene."

"Sorry, I'm just so fucking excited for you!" She all but yells again as she pulls her feet under her. She stands while squatting in the chair and kind of bounces or jumps, you don't know. You should be use to her antics but you are still easily embarrassed.

"Good morning, everyone," Anthony starts, pulling everyone's attention from you. You remind yourself to get him like a billion cookies for this kindness. Angela situates herself in the chair as you open your last assignment instructions for the semester.

Two hours later, you're watching people mill about as they go back to work. You're assignment on hold until you can do some in depth research at home. You pretend not to notice silver hair approaching as you stand and slip into the crowd, quickly making your way back to your desk, ready to become an editing machine again.

You have no idea how late it is when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You jump and take off your headphones as you turn around. A soft, amused smile plays on Damien's lips as he watches your confusion.

"Hi?" You whisper your question.

"Hi, it's six o'clock." You check your phone and see that it is actually about ten past six and that you have a missed slack warning you to leave. You nod.

"So it is. Thank you," you say as you save the edit and start shutting down for the night.

"Is that a crochet Toothless?" Damien asks, motioning to a small dragon crocheted from black yarn with big glittering, green eyes. You nod again. "Did you make it?"

A third nod as you pick it up and hand it to him. He admires it and hands it back to you. You place it back on your desk, right under your monitor.

"Jack likes those movies too."

"Yeah, it means a lot to us. We have matching tattoos." You don't know why you said that, but Damien nods, enthusiastically.

"I've seen Jack's the black silhouette with the red part of the tail, right? On his forearm. Like where my sword is, but smaller."

"Yeah, that's it," you say. Before you can think about it, you're pulling up your sleeve. Damien looks down as you show off your tattoo. His fingers come up to trace the outline of the tattoo before following the scars that litter your arm down to your wrist. Silently, he lifts your arm and places a gentle kiss to the exposed skin. You look up at his face and you can tell even he seems surprised that he did that.

You take your arm back and pull down your sleeve. You turn to pack up your bag, expecting Damien to be gone when you turn around. You turn back to see he's still there, looking at your decorations on your desk. A picture of you and Jack at your high school graduation, the little Toothless, and a Lego bunny Sadie gave you.

"Can I walk you to your car?" You nod as Damien motions for you to lead the way. You're both silent as you walk. Once at your car Damien speaks. "If I overstepped a boundary by talking about you on the podcast, I apologize. I really hope that's not why you're not speaking to me."

You're taken aback for a moment before shaking your head.

"I'm not mad at you, Damien. I just don't talk. As far as the podcast goes, everything is okay. Spencer warned me about it and what was talked about, just not what was said. And what you said was very sweet and I appreciate it. It made me feel seen for once in my miserable life."

"I'm glad I could be of service," Damien says, seemingly at a loss for words.

"I have to go. I need to pick up my niece. She's been with a friend since I was sick and I told her friend's mom that I would pick her up after work."

"When are Jack and Bella back?"

"Next week."

"When are your classes over?"

"I'm working on my last assignment this week. It's due Friday."

Damien nods.

"Have a good night," he says and turns to walks to his car.

The next day you find a Lego rose set on your desk, after lunch. Spencer is there staring at the attached, unopened note while nursing a Kickstart.

"What are you doing?"

"Being disappointed that the Kickstart hasn't given me mutant powers like x-ray vision," he responds, looking up at you.

"What's this?"

"Legos."

"No shit."

"I don't know. It was just here when I came to talk to you. You're always here but you weren't and the roses were."

"I went to the restroom." You sit at your desk and take the note off the box and open the envelope.

"I'm trying to respect your privacy but I am curious."

"Go away, Spencer."

"Okay, bye," he says as he walks away making a horrible sipping sound, knowing you hate it.

Thank you for sharing with me yesterday. I remember Jack saying you don't like real flowers, so Legos. I'll always see you. - Damien

You smile and put the Legos and note in your bag. You turn back to your work and get lost in the latest Try Not To Laugh.

The rest of the week consists of thoughts of Damien, but not seeing him much if at all around the office.

Friday night, you're laying in bed after turning in your assignment, confident that you did great on it. As you start to drift off your mind wanders to the day with Damien in the office. The softness of his lips against your skin, his words from the podcast "she was truly beautiful and I'll carry that memory for as long as she allows me to know her," and the intestity in his gaze when he looked at you. Your eyes open wide as you shoot upright in bed.

"Fuck, I like him!" You shout into your apartment. You hope you didn't wake Sadie. You listen for a minute before deciding that your neice is still sleeping soundly. You lay bac down and grab your phone, pulling up fan compilations of Damien to fall asleep to.

One week later a bunch of the editors are going out to dinner. You decide not to and continue working until the five forty-five slack. You pack up you bag and turn to see Damien at th entrance to your little cubical.

"We meet again," you say. "Hello."

"Hi," he smiles. "I was wondering what you were doing tonight."

"Going home. My social meter is at it's limit for the week."

"Oh, I was going to see if you want to hang out but I get it." He looks a little disappoint. You get an idea.

"Come over. We can hang out."

"Really?"

"Sure, it could be fun. What could go wrong?"

You unlock your door and let Damien step in before you. You lock the door behind you out of habit. You quickly make your way to your office and put down your bag and go back to the kitchen and grab two glasses of water.

"Thank you," Damien says, looking towards the box of Legos on the table. "You haven't built them yet?"

"No, I've been busy with school stuff. I was planning on building them tonight. Wearing pajamas and watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but still building them."

"Oh, if you'd feel more comfortable in pj's go ahead."

"No, it okay. You don't have any pj's."

"I actually do in my car. My laundry machines broke and I had to go to the laundromat. I've been too lazy to take my clothes inside."

"Go get them. We can have a pajama party." You smile as Damien looks surprised. He nods and stands up, excusing himself to his car. You run to your bedroom and change into a pair of light gray sweatpants and a black tank top. You hear Damien walk in and the lock click before his footsteps lead to the bathroom.

You emerge first and set to work making cups of hot chocolate with just a splash of vanilla. You're not sure when Damien walks in, but at some point you look over and he's leaning against the door frame with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pajama pants and a pizza place shirt. He has a fond smile on his face and you return it.

"You kind of match. Turtle pizza and being Shayne's favorite pizza place."

"You're my favorite pizza place," Damien says. His eyes go wide as you let out a giggle. You hold a mug out to him. He takes it and immediately goes to take a sip.

"Careful its-"

"Ow!" Damien almost shouts as he puts a hand to his mouth.

"Hot. Are you okay?" You ask. He nods but his brows are furrowed as he takes a deep breath. "Did you burn your lip?"

He nods as he sets his mug onto the counter. You set your downs beside his and walk to the freezer, grabbing an ice cube. He takes it and holds it to his lip. He pulls it away as he says, "Thank you. Sorry about that."

"It's fine. You were just being a silly goose and didn't listen." You pick up your mug and walk over to Damien as he holds his fingers to his lips again. With your free hand you grab his wrist and pull it away from his mouth. "You're fine." With that you stand on your toes and give a quick peck to his lips. "There all better now."

You walk around him, leaving him to make the next move. You look over your shoulder and see him still standing there. You shake your head and make your way to the couch. You deposit your mug on a coaster and open the box of Legos.

You're sat on the floor between the couch and coffee table, Buffy the Vapire Slayer on the television screen, and piles of organized Lego pieces in front of you as Damien walks in and sits to your right. You silently follow the directions as the roses come to life in front of you. On the screen, Buffy punches Spike and your eyes get caught on it. Your brain turns off as you mindlessly watch the episode.

A hand on your left shoulder brings you back to your apartment. You look over and notice how the black painted nails match your shirt. Your attention goes to your right. Damien's face is unreadable as he stares at the screen. Your hands find themselves on the Legos again. Another two episodes and you've finished the roses and you're leaning back against the couch, watching Giles explain something to the Scooby Gang. Your eyelids grow heavy and your head starts to nod.

"Hey, I think it's time for bed." Damien's voice is soft. You nod and shift to stand up, but find Damien's shoulder instead. You sag onto him and close your eyes fully. "Oh, no, no, the floor isn't comfortable, babe."

"It is right now," you say. Your tired brain barely registered the pet name.

"Come on, it's late. Let's get you to bed."

You allow him to pull you up and guide you to bed. As he pulls the covers over you, you grab his wrist.

"You okay?"

"If it's so late then stay the night. Just don't watch any more Buffy."

"I don't want to impose. I should go."

"Please stay. I want to hang out with you."

He nods and you smile. You drift off pretty quickly, but you feel a kiss pressed to your forehead and hear the light switch click and the door shut before you're pulled into sleep.

The next morning you walk into the living room, hearing the TV playing New Girl. Confused, you look to the couch and remember last night. You smile at the softly snoring Damien on your couch. You grab the mugs and water glasses from the table and take them to the kitchen. You decide you want to hear the sweet words Damien said about you again, so you turn on the Smosh Mouth episode.

After his speech, the sound from your phone stops. You spin around to find Damien standing there.

"Good morning," you smile at him.

"Good morning. I have a question."

"I have an answer."

"You've already listened to this podcast. Why are you listening to it again?"

"To hear the nice things you said about me."

"But you've got the real thing right here. Don't you want me to tell you new words?"

You think about it a second before shaking your head. He looks a little confused as he cocks his head to the side with a smile.

"Why not?"

"Because I'd rather have your mouth on my mouth," you say shrugging and turning back to your project of deep cleaning the oven. The very confused "huh?!" noise that comes from Damien pulls a silently laugh from you.

"So, you do like me?"

"I literally kissed you on the mouth."

"I thought you were joking or, like, I don't know. Maybe doing a bit."

"You go process and once I am done with the oven, I'll come talk."

"Yeah, okay," Damien says as he turns around. As you take the next hour to clean the oven, you hear Damien in the bathroom. You shouted to him that an extra toothbrush is in a drawer.

When you finish cleaning the oven, you wash your hands and make your way to the living room where Damien is watching New Girl again. You sit on the opposite side of the couch and he pauses the show.

"Hi," he says.

"Hello," you say back as you turn your body towards him and cross your legs.

"So, you like me?"

"Yes."

"And I like you."

"Yes."

"What are we going to do about it?"

"Date? Make out? Fuck? I'm down for any and all of it."

He smiles and leans toward you. His hand goes to your knee closest to the couch.

"So, you don't mind if I do this?"

You shake your head. He brings his knee up to prop up on as his hands trail up to find your waist.

"Or this?"

You shake your head again and he leans fully over you as you lay back. He's holding himself on the arm of the couch to hover you. He brings his lips to yours in a quick, teasing kiss.

"Or this."

"Please keep doing that."

He smiles fondly at you as he pulls back and sits back down on the couch, pulling you into a sitting position.

"I like you, like, a lot and I want this to be something."

"I want the same."

"Can I take you on a date?"

You nod and grab his hand. You play with his fingers and you two talk about where you're going to go, what your relationship status is, and when and if you'll tell the fans. When you've settled everything for the time being he leans back and pulls you on top of him. He turns on Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the twonof you cuddle as you watch.

"Hey, wait a second."

"What's up?"

You shift to where you can reach his lips and kiss him. His hands find a home on your wait and neck as yours perch on his chest and cheek. He deepens the kiss and pulls you closer.

"They got the mustard out!" Sounds from the television and you break away, laughing and slightly out of breath.

"Dude?"

"Shut up, this is my favorite episode."

He chuckles and holds you close as you cuddle and watch your favorite episode of your favorite show.

#damien haas #damien haas fic #damien haas x reader #damien haas x you

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corazondebeskar-reads · 1 year ago

Text

you know you never stood a chance - epilogue

you know you never stood a chance series

epilogue: maybe light a candle

series masterlist | prev chapter

Joel Miller x f!reader

Words: 2.9k

Summary: It's Christmas Eve, and Joel hasn't come home yet. (this takes place about three years after the end of the main story.)

Warnings: established relationship, angst, christmas in the apocalypse, technically spoilers for tlou pt 2, mentions of breastfeeding (not as a fetish), found family, poor communication, oral (f receiving), postpartum depression, possibly violating child labor laws by using a baby as a plot device, pls remember I am playing fast and loose with both canon and the timelines lol

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

It’s Christmas Eve.

Or, at least, according to the council. You’re not sure if anyone is really sure what the date is anymore.

But for all intents and purposes, maybe it’s Christmas Eve. The holiday is a thin, moth-bitten version of its former self, but you’ve never been the holly-jolly or the religious sort, so Christmas Lite suits you just fine.

Maria had invited you and Lulu to the mess hall for a big meal and activities for the kids. It was less of an invitation than an expectation, but you stayed home anyway.

And maybe it wasn’t fair. Maybe she wanted you there for the same reason you didn’t want to be there. She’s fucking tough, maybe the strongest person you know, but she has to be feeling Tommy’s absence today, too. It isn’t Aléjandra’s first Christmas, but likely the first one she’ll remember, which is worse.

But it’s more than it just being Lulu’s first Christmas. It’s that Maria had made a point of telling you that Ellie would be there.

You prepare to watch her leave for the night. The light pours in the window when she opens the shed door, and you know she can see your shadow haunting the living room.

You want Ellie to meet her sister. You dream of it nearly every night. But there’s no way in hell you’re doing it without Joel. It’d break his heart. You like to think she knows, at least. Someone (probably Tommy) had to have told her.

So when she climbs the steps instead of walking past, you freeze. Her knuckles rap against the wood, and you close your eyes. You can’t. You need to, but you can’t.

“Maria asked me to remind you that you promised to come by tonight,” she calls through the door.

She knows you can hear her. She knows you choose not to respond (but she doesn’t know you bite your lip so hard to resist that it bleeds).

It would be wrong. But the ache is so strong you’re convinced it must be a physical wound.

She leaves.

“There goes Ellie,” you tell the baby, as you always do. “She’s got places to be, but she loves you very much.” The guilt of keeping them apart makes you nauseous.

Maybe it isn’t true yet, but you think it is. You think, despite everything, despite the anger she harbors for Joel (and a fragment of that for you), that she already loves her sister. Even if she’s only the shadow of a sister spied through dark windows and across the street.

You wonder if she knows her name. Tommy had started the whole “Lulu” thing, and though it had grown on you now, it made you suspect he hadn’t thought to mention she had a real, full name.

Luna Luann. Luna, for Ellie, and Luann for Joel’s favorite tía, the one who smuggled them chewing gum and taught Joel his strong right hook when the other kids were picking on Tommy.

You’d take this secret to the grave, but you hated the name Luann. But when he brought up the suggestion, he had talked about her for nearly twenty minutes, and so you love the woman despite her name, just for the way she brought a little more of Joel out.

You thought they’d be home by Christmas. You’re trying not to worry, but worrying’s one of the things you’re good at. It doesn’t help that you’re still struggling. You’ve been told it’s normal, but these last two weeks with Joel gone have been so hard.

She’s cutting a tooth (her very first), and you can barely catch a break. You sleep when she sleeps, but it’s never enough. A few neighbors have been bringing casseroles still, and it’s the only reason you’ve been eating.

So, you think it’s probably understandable that you crumble after you watch Ellie walk away and Luna starts to cry. The lights are out except for the single candle in the front window. You keep it lit all night in case Joel comes home. A beacon.

If you had a widow’s walk, you’d be haunting it. But you’re not a widow—couldn’t be, you’re not even a wife—and he’ll be fine. He’ll come back.

Joel always comes back.

It might be Christmas Eve, and you’re slumped against the wall of your living room, crying in tandem with your infant. There’s nothing wrong, you checked. It’s so much worse that she’s probably just picking up on your mood.

You orbit around each other that way. She is the sun that you and Joel revolve around, but his absence has sent you both off balance.

The sun might be the more accurate comparison, but you usually like to say Lulu, your Luna, was your moon, and Joel was the sun. He disagrees. He says he’s the rock, and you are her light.

It was profoundly beautiful, but none of the concepts held up to the reality. The truth was that you were a constellation, but without Ellie, you made no recognizable form. Sagitta with one feather, an arrow that can never fly true.

When you settle down to sniffles and the errant tear, Lulu has fallen asleep against your chest. You creep upstairs and lay her in the crib squeezed between the bed and the wall.

The room was plenty large, and part of it had been set up as a nursery. But after she was born, you spent each night on the floor next to the crib.

Joel hadn’t been having that. After the first week, he sat you down and asked if you’d be able to sleep in the bed if she was next to you.

And then he just… built a second, smaller crib. One that fits right up against your side of the mattress. It was low to the ground, so all you had to do was reach down, and you could feel her little chest rise and fall, or scoop her up to nurse her in the middle of the night. She’ll grow out of it fast, but by then, you hope you’ll feel secure enough to move her to the big one just across the room.

You had been embarrassed. Didn’t want anyone to know. After all, mothers had been putting their children to sleep in different rooms for ages. But you weren’t afraid to tell Joel, knew if there was anyone in this town that understood, it’d be him (and Maria).

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with keepin’ your baby close,” he said, as gruff and blunt as always.

When Joel comes home, he finds you that way. On your side, arm dangling into the crib with Lulu’s tiny fingers wrapped around your own. He sat down and gently tapped your shoulder, trying not to disturb the baby.

“What’re you doin’ here, darlin’?” he whispers when you stir. You blink up at him through sore eyes, then smile softly, sending his heart skittering.

“You’re home,” you say, extracting your finger and sitting up to reach for him.

He wraps you in his arms, lets you burrow into the nest of his broad shoulders. “M’sorry,” he murmurs into your hair, chasing the words with a kiss.

“Tommy okay?”

“Yeah, he’s good. Just hit some delays on the way home. Bridge was out. I thought y’all were going to the party?”

You don’t answer right away. You know he’ll feel bad. That he does feel bad, that the guilt eats a little part of him each day. All he wants is his girls all together.

“I was,” you mumble, feeling the tears prick with a vengeance. “But Maria said… Maria said that Ellie would be there.”

Joel’s arms squeeze you a little tighter for a moment. “Y’know I don’t want to get in the way of you talkin’ to her.”

“I know. But after last time… she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore, anyway.”

“She’ll come around,” Joel says.

It reignites a new round of self-hatred, that he’s sitting here consoling you. After all, she had spoken to you after their fight. Sat down and told you she wasn’t mad at you, that she knew he probably didn’t even tell you.

And he hadn’t told you, hadn’t clued you in, trying in his foolhardy way to spare you the burden of the lie. And you were mad at him for it; you’d had your own spat after.

But you weren’t mad he did it. Not one bit.

He can tell you don’t want to keep talking about it, and that’s fine by him.

“You miss me, baby?” he murmurs, a teasing brush of his lips over your neck.

You roll your eyes. “Oh no, did you have to go two weeks without gettin’ laid?”

He chuckles, dark and raspy, as he reaches to cup your ass and squeeze, smirking when you gasp.

“And you’re tellin’ me those little fingers were enough for your greedy cunt? Like ya ain’t droolin’ for my cock right now?”

You whimper. He’s right. Two weeks is too fucking long for either of you.

He tugs you properly into his lap, legs wrapped around his waist, before he just stands up and carries you into the guest room across the hall. It’s not ideal, but if you leave both doors open, you’ll be able to hear Luna if she wakes.

“How’ve you not thrown your back out?” you grumble as he manhandles you.

He tosses you onto the bed, already peeling off his clothes and pointedly ignoring you.

He’s halfway through tugging his jeans down when he stops and looks at you. “What’re you doing? Let me see ya, sweetheart.”

You’ve long gotten over how easy you are for him. You only hadn’t stripped yet because you wanted to work him up. “You can see me just fine. Or do you need your glasses, old man?”

He takes the bait, shaking his head, before looming over you and running his hands down the sides of his old shirt you use for a nightgown. He barely grazes your breasts, just brushing the tips of your hardened nipples and grinning when you whine.

“Up,” he orders, tugging at the hem of the shirt.

You lift enough for him to pull it off and flop back down. It’s your turn to smirk as he watches the way your tits bounce with deep hunger.

And then he fucking rips the along the side of your panties and pulls them off, throwing them to the floor.

“Hey!”

“Shut up, you can sew ‘em back.”

“I’ve already sewn that pair twice, Joel. You’re a fuckin’ menace.”

“Is that so?” Suddenly his breath is hot against your cunt, and you clench around nothing.

“Uh-huh,” you moan as he runs one finger along the seam of your cunt. “‘Cause you’re a menace.”

“Only for you, darlin’.”

You laugh. “Oh yeah? Let me do a survey around town.”

He shuts you up by sliding two fingers right into your cunt, the stretch almost too much. Almost. But you don’t really notice because he buries his face between your lips, and any sassy remark comes out in a desperate cry.

He pulls away and gives you a warning look, head tilted. His free hand comes up to cover your mouth, thick fingers clamping down and digging into your cheek. It makes you moan, but it also muffles it, so it works out fine.

“If you want your turn, you gotta be quiet. Otherwise, I’ll just have mine and shut you up proper.”

You choke down the moan dredged up by the thought of his cock down your throat and make the saddest pleading eyes you can muster.

He rolls his, shaking his head, before he goes back to your neglected clit.

You’re close, so close when you hear it. You pat Joel’s head, sitting up. “Was that the door?”

The shift is immediate. Three years in town has allowed Joel to relax somewhat, sometimes, but he slips back into it in an instant. He pulls back, brow furrowed, squinting like it’ll help him hear better.

It comes again, louder this time, insistent enough for him to pick up. A firm knocking.

There’s a pause, but Joel’s already on his feet, pulling his clothes back on. He tosses your shirt over as he ducks out of the doorway and you’re slipping it over your head when whoever is outside grows impatient.

Rapid, furious banging rattles the door, and you dart across the hall to shut the bedroom, but it’s too late.

Lulu starts wailing immediately, her little face scrunched up, nose wrinkling, and tears pouring out faster than a faucet. You scoop her up and soothe her, cradling her as she finds solace for her hurt feelings and empty stomach.

Joel goes downstairs, partly to shut up the racket but mostly because the sound fills him with dread. When he opens the door, it flings wide, and the tirade begins immediately.

Ellie storms in, already yelling. “—could you? What the fuck is wrong with you? You won’t even let her come out for fuckin’ Christmas because she might see me?”

You’re going down the stairs as soon as you hear her voice, but she stops yelling when she sees you on the landing.

“It’s not his fault,” you say, face hot with frustration and raw hurt. You hate the way your eyes water.

“Like hell, it isn’t. Maria said you were going to come, that one of you might actually have the balls to tell me you had a fuckin’ baby, and—”

“And I decided not to go, Ellie. Joel wasn’t even home. He didn’t know.”

Lulu has started to cry again, distracted from nursing by your ire. You murmur apologies, kissing the little tuft of dark hair on her head, and try to coax her back to your breast.

Ellie’s eyes are wide, and feet planted, ratty sneakers dripping filthy snow across the floor. Her mouth hangs open as she takes in the tiny, ruddy creature who finally agreed to return to her meal.

“Hey, Ellie. We had a fuckin’ baby,” Joel says after the silence hangs for a minute too long.

The bark of laughter that bursts out of her looks like it hurts, but she can’t fight it. The tension dissolves into absurdity and then tears.

Ellie sits on the ground instead of the perfectly nice sofa to her left. You come down the stairs and sit beside her.

You look up at Joel, and he nods. You wish he’d come sit, but he’s too afraid to break the peace. “Would you like to hold your sister?” you ask Ellie, keeping your voice low and steady.

“Can I? I mean… what if I break her?”

“She’s pretty tough.” Lulu is done eating, just suckling for comfort, so you pry her off your breast and tug your shirt back up.

Joel takes her without thinking, leaning her against his shoulder to help her work out the air.

Once she gives a satisfactory belch, he thrusts her at Ellie, who’s startled enough to take her without thinking about it.

You all hold very still. Except Lulu, who is blissfully unaware of the strife and coos up at her big sister. She bats a little hand at her face, smacking her nose in an attempt to grab on. Ellie laughs, and her smile, her perfect smile that you haven’t seen in a year, breaks out.

You can’t help it; you start crying. Ellie looks up in alarm, but Joel shakes his head, moving closer to rub your shoulder.

“It’s not you,” he says solemnly, “it’s just hard, after.” He gestures at the baby.

“It is you,” you say, and Joel scrubs a hand over his face with a soft groan. “It’s—I’m sorry, I just—”

Ellie’s looking like she might make a break for it. She tries to hand the baby back to Joel, who refuses.

You get ahold of yourself. “It’s not bad, Ellie. I’ve just been waiting for this since she was born.”

Ellie softens and then scowls. “Then you should have told me. You should have told me you were pregnant in the first place. I said you could talk to me.”

“No, I couldn’t,” and you pause as she shoots a dirty look at Joel. “No, not because of him. Because I would have done the same damn thing, so you may as well hate me too.”

“What?” She seems genuinely shocked, which you don’t have the patience for.

“I would do the same damn thing. If I had been there, there would have been nothin’ in the fuckin’ world keeping me from getting to you, Ellie. Nothing short of death. Not then, not now. I’d do it for her, too.”

The room is stifling, and Joel hasn’t even lit the hearth yet. Your breath comes out in little puffs, and every one of you has wet, devastated eyes. Even Lulu, who looks like she might be the first to break into tears.

Ellie looks down and sighs. “So, Lulu, huh?”

“Actually,” Joel says, and chances a step closer, squatting down. “It’s Luna. Luna Luann. Tommy’s just an idiot.”

Ellie’s a smart kid. You can see the moment it clicks—the way she looks up at Joel with something akin to hope. It fades quickly, but you know he saw it, too. His own staggering heart, heavy with love unspoken, is betrayed in the way he has to fight a smile, choke down the relief. Maybe, just maybe.

Maybe next year, you’ll get a tree.

thank you all so, so much.

*title from "Alone This Holiday" by The Used

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller x f!oc #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfic #the last of us smut #you know you never stood a chance series

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