#it isn’t that deep to them when they’re saying it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slimybeth69 · 1 day ago

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Part 3- Your People

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: After the civilized world you once knew came to an end-- the men that survived... well they just take, take, take. Growing tired of having things taken from you-- you have a hankerin' to take somethin' for yourself... and make him perfect.

w/c~ 8k

content warnings: Reader (no descriptions besides having hair that can be pulled) is in a weird mindset; hears voices, talks to herself. non-con/dub-con (if you're looking for enthusiastic consent, ya wont find it here) smut, cock-warming, unprotected P in V, creampies, oral (m&f receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, pussy and peen pronouns, alcohol consumption (altered mental state). Joel wears a shock collar and other various horrible things that would keep him in check-- and he doesn't fucking like it.

Reader warning- While it looks real pretty, this is a Dead Dove, Do Not Eat. If ya do and then come complaining to me that you ate a dead dove-- I'm gonna fight you. I warned you. I'm coming from a place of love and respect for my readers who have ever gone through anything traumatic and maybe don't want to relive that, it's in here. I try and do it tastefully and respectfully in the best way, i'll mark it with a lil divider where you can skip the part I'm worried about. it's smut but it's sad. There is your warning. I love you.

You gotta sleep, kid. You need it.

Mister-J looks so warm and comfortable… go on and crawl in beside him.

He does look so comfortable and inviting, especially from your spot just out of his reach if you were to fall asleep. His chest rises and falls slowly as he breathes in his sleep. It’s memorizing, and almost hypnotic enough to make you forget all of your fears— forget all of the things that made laying next to him with his arms around you physically excruciating.

S’okay, Baby. You’ll get there, it’ll get easier ‘n he won’t seem so big ‘n scary anymore.

There is a reason he seems big and scary, kid. Your gut is telling you not to trust him, so don’t.

Oh, stop it. If he wanted to kill her, he would have— he would have done it by now. He’s big ‘n strong— he could, and he hasn’t.

That sweet, soft voice does have a good point…

Doesn’t mean he isn’t waiting for a better opportunity.

The dark, serious voice has a point too…

This always happens, the voices say things that conflict one another, but they both have a point. They both make sense but never about the same thing. And they argue. And they’re loud. It’s only when you need them, that you really, really want them to say something that they are quiet.

The little flashlight that had been attached to the backpack Mister-man—

Joel… he has a name. He’s a real person, kid.

You flick the flashlight off quickly so it’s dark again.

Mister-mans, Mister-J… Joel… it don’t matter none, Sugar. He’s yours, and you can call him whatever you want.

You flick the light back on so you can watch him sleep. It’s incredible how calm he is, and how he fell asleep as soon as you laid down next to him after saying he couldn’t sleep.

Sometimes that happens to you though, sometimes you need to touch yourself, and make yourself squirm and moan and come, and then sleep finds you. Sometimes the whiskey puts you to sleep before you even have the desire to do that to yourself.

Whatever Mister-J did with his tongue was so much better than your fingers, wasn’t it?

It most definitely was. It was probably the most incredible feeling you’ve ever experienced. Not that you hadn’t ever experienced it before, but this time…it was soft, gentle— and you wanted it more than anything. That made it feel even fucking better, how badly you wanted to sit down on Mister-mans face and grind down onto his mouth.

He was making out with your cunt. Deep, long, tongue swirling kisses. He would open and close his mouth, and suck. He would lick and lap at all spots you didn’t even know could make you feel good.

When you would take his cock deep in your throat and gag on it, he would moan- loudly-and the vibrations from that were like earthquakes, they touched parts inside of you that were left unexplored by anyone before Mister.

He was perfect.

The idea of laying your head down on his big, muscular bicep was nice until you were actually doing it, and then everything about it felt foreign. It was like sleeping too close to the fire, surrounded by too many blankets.

You had gotten so used to sleeping alone, that the feeling of someone next to you didn’t feel right anymore. It made you sad and you’re not entirely sure why.

So that’s why you’re here on the floor and not snuggled up against Mister-man. It’s like the universe played some cruel joke on you- and you got your favorite food but when you bite into it, it’s rancid.

But your fingers twitch toward him anyway—like roots in dirt searching for water. His arm is right there. His breath is slow and steady.

Go on. He’s warm as fresh bread.

You shift an inch closer.

Dangerous as a snake in the grass.

But his skin smells like leather and sweat and you want to taste him again. Want to run your tongue from the tip of his cock, to the spot just in front of his ear that makes him sigh when you kiss him there.

Crawling—quiet like scared prey— you move until your face hovers over his chest. His shirt rides up just enough to show a scar on his perfectly doughy stomach. And another on his rib cage. It looks newer, still old enough to be a scar, but pink instead of white.

You wonder if it aches when he breathes. If that’s the reason his voice sounds like gravel sometimes.

He’ll crush you.

He’ll hold you.

It sounds like a song the way the sweet voice says it.

You touch the scar with your pinky finger, feather-light—and he doesn’t stir. But then he sighs—a rumble deeper than thunder—and your guts twist.

You scramble back, heart slamming against the back of your throat.

The sweet voice clucks at you.

You’re spooking yourself.

You’re alive because you spook.

The flashlight rolls under your knee when you shift—plastic clattering loud enough to wake dead things—and Mister’s brow tightens. For one gut-drop second, his eyes flicker open, staring up at you, before he grunts and turns onto his side, back to you now.

He’s mad again? How, and why? What did you do wrong? You had done everything right.

You keep poking that bear and you’re going to get mauled, kid.

He ain’t mad…look’it his hands, Sugar.

They’re not balled up into fists, they’re relaxed. His whole body is. Everything about him seems so at peace.

Your stomach growls loud enough to wake the dead. It’s been a while since you’ve eaten— and then you only had half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and some whiskey.

Joel’s boot shifts with a dry scrape of leather—and your lungs forget how air works. But he just mumbles something that sounds like “goddamn horse” with his face smushed against the pillow.

Mister-J talks in his sleep? He’s precious.

He is. It’s hard to contain the feeling in your chest when he sighs loudly, rolling onto his stomach, curling his arms under the pillow.

Instead of trying to face your fears of crawling into bed with him and falling asleep next to someone else, you crawl on your hands and knees back to the chair across the room. The whiskey bottle is still tucked between the cushion where you left it.

Even with almost half of a bottle of whiskey in you, your eyes won’t close. You only know what time it is because the soft whir of the solar powered generator kicks on, and the singular lamp in the corner flicks to life. It’s dark outside now.

The electric hum from the bulb makes your skin crawl, and your head buzz.

Part of you feels bad for keeping Mister down here like this. He doesn’t even know what time it is, he’ll probably wake up soon, getting ready to start the day. You wonder if he misses the sun, if he ever walked barefoot in the grass and if he misses that feeling too.

When you weren’t allowed outside, you missed the sun. You missed the grass between your toes. You missed being able to jump into the river and swim around with your brother whenever you wanted. There were a lot of things you missed when you weren’t allowed to go outside.

Unscrewing the whiskey cap, you take a swig and relish in the way it burns. It drowns out the voices, but it doesn’t dull the ache between your legs— the memory of his mouth makes you shift in the soft recliner.

In the soft, pale light spilling into the room from behind the aged, yellow lampshade, you can see Mister-J… and how excited he is. He’s on his back, shirt riding up over his stomach again, the bulge in his sweatpants clear as day now.

There is a new voice you’ve never heard before, and it’s not saying anything— only screaming. Loud, and high pitched. It’s excruciating. It’s the only thing you hear now, not even the sound of your own voice telling you what to do, or what to think or say.

When you stand, the whiskey sloshes between your temples. It makes you sway and almost lose your balance, but you press your hand to a support beam that juts out of the floor and into the ceiling.

Heavy, clumsy, limping feet and a swollen ankle carry you to Mister-J.

His cock is hard and heavy in your hand and he tastes just like he did last night. He stirs under your touch—a low groan vibrating through clenched teeth—and your pussy tightens around nothing. Mister arches his hips up against your slow moving fist, trying to fuck your hand momentarily before stilling and settling back down into the mattress. His eyes are still shut tight beneath furrowed eyebrows.

It’s pathetically cute how bad he wants this. How badly he needs it.

The screaming inside your head morphs into static.

Your fingers rub slow circles over damp fabric between your legs while your rib cage starts to feel like a hive of wasps. Everything inside of you is buzzing as you lean over and swirl your tongue around the ridge of his cock.

Wrong.

That dark voice sounds like it’s coming through the static like old radio stations.

You pull your hand away from Mister-J's cock and cover your face with it, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to spill. This is all wrong, all of it.

S’right. It’s all right.

The static transmutes into tornado sirens.

Your hand finds his cock again and it throbs in your grasp. There is no hesitation when you take him into your mouth with a gentleness you didn’t know you possessed when you’re this intoxicated. Delicate movements and laps of your tongue along his shaft make him moan softly, still slumbering.

Salt and musk take over your senses as he pulses against your tongue—wanting even in his unconsciousness. Your throat spasms around him as you gag, tears hot on your lashes. One hand brushes against his thigh as you move to steady yourself on the mattress while the other slips into your own waistband. Two fingers slide into you with no resistance. You’re so wet that you almost feel embarrassed.

Inside.

The sweet voice sings to you over the cacophony going on inside your head.

Mister’s hips jerk again, involuntary, desperate. A string of saliva connects your lip to his cock when you pull back to breathe. The room tilts—whiskey and shame on your tongue—but you don’t stop. Can’t stop. Not when his thighs were trembling just a moment ago.

After kicking your shorts off, you climb on top. Mister feels so hot pressed up against your cunt. Yours and his breath catch in your throats when you sink down into his lap. Your eyes close to hide from the stretch that burns in a slippery, and shameful way.

The wasps behind your ribs sharpen their stingers as you slowly start to rock your hips against his. Mister’s eyelids flutter but he doesn’t wake-up, not fully. He just hovers in that feverish space between dreaming and drowning. A place you’re familiar with.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

Good. Good. Good.

You want to carve yourself into his bones before the tornado sirens rip your skull apart.

The oven mitts make useless fists at his sides as he arches beneath you, tendons in his neck pulled wire-tight. His hips stutter upward instinctively, chasing more friction, seeking the deepest, warmest parts of you.

His eyes snap open, “The fuck are you—” Mister-man’s voice is rough like sandpaper but you don’t let him finish before you slap your hand over his mouth.

“Shhhh, makin’ you feel good,” you moan quietly, your hips never faltering. His cock slides across a spot inside of you that whites the edges of your vision.

He mumbles something, his teeth scraping along your palm as he does so. It vaguely sounds like, ‘Get off’a me’ or ‘get off on me,’.

“M’tryin’,” you groan, catching your bottom lip between your teeth. Your cheeks are wet, but from tears or sweat, you don’t know.

How can everything make sense up here on top of Mister-J, and still feel so incredibly… wrong?

The oven mitts start to drum against your thighs as he squirms underneath you.

It…hurts? Mister is hitting you?

Hurting you.

You like it.

“Knock it off!” You press harder against this mouth with your hand, your fingers digging into his cheeks. It’s impossible to stop riding him, to stop yourself from needing this brutal closeness with Mister.

You’re being bad.

You like it.

His muffled growls vibrate against your palm—angry or pleading or both—but your cunt clenches harder around him anyway. Release is so close, you can feel yourself teeter on the precipice, but you can’t seem to push yourself over.

“Please, please, p-please— jus’ wanna, I just wanna— please, please, Mister-J,” you whine, face wet with perspiration and tears now, they’re flowing freely from your eyes. “I want it, need it—”

“Stop, goddammit—” he shouts at you from behind your fingers.

It makes you flinch but you don’t stop, and your pussy pulses around him. Your hand presses harder, fingernails leaving moon crescents in his flesh mingled with his stubble.

You just want to feel good, to be able to fall asleep once this is all over.

Oven mitts thump and scrabble at your hip, and that only makes your thighs clamp tighter around his waist. You want to swallow every twitch of his cock, everything he can give you– you want it.

He bucks his hips up into you and touches a place inside you that leaves you gasping for air. “Yes, yes, yes—” you groan breathlessly, leaning forward to lay your body on top of his, resting your forehead against his collarbone.

Mister bucks his hips up into yours again— once, twice, three times and suddenly you’re being shoved off of him, pushed to the side like you’re weightless.

Before you can really even know what hit you, Mister-man has his entire body weight pinning you down underneath him. He has his forearm forced against your neck.

Your thumb instinctively presses against down, searching for the shock collar button but you just end up pressing against your own palm.

The static, and the sirens and the screaming— the voices. It all goes completely silent and the only thing you can hear is the blood roaring in your ears.

Mistake?

Mistake.

“Got’chya,” He growls down at you, his eyes dark and blown wide.

“Get off me! Get off me! Get off of me!” You scream at him as loudly as you can, “Get off of me! Get off! Off, off, offoffoffoff! I’ll fucking kill you, you stupid fucking sonofabitch- get the fuck off me!”

“Awhh, lil crazy puppy don’t like it?” He murmurs, pressing his lips to your tear stained cheekbone.

Your legs begin to flail wildly in an attempt to dislodge him, push him, get him off. Your hands flying to his face, scratching and clawing at the soft skin, and his vulnerable, delicate eyes. You can’t find the words for how much you don’t like it, so you scream— it’s loud and rattles in the back of your throat as Mister-man clamps his hand over your mouth to silence you.

His breath is hot and ragged against your ear, the oven mitts clumsily grappling at your wrists as you thrash. "Stop—fuckin'—fightin’—," he grits out, but his voice cracks on the last word.

You taste copper—your teeth sink into his palm at some point, his blood smearing your chin. He pulls his hand back back to look at the broken skin, and you clench your eyes shut, flinching away from the incoming blows.

The room tilts and suddenly Joel’s weight isn’t just on your body; it’s inside your head, like pressure forcing memories that had buried deep to the surface like lava from a volcano.

Different hands holding you down. A different room. Different voices in your ear.

“Nononononono,” you whimper in a shriveled voice you don’t recognize.

“Hey!” Joel’s voice is sharp and grounding.

His arm lets up just enough for you to suck in a shattered breath. You’re both trembling now, your chests heaving against one anothers. His beard scratches your temple as he turns his face away from your clawing hands, but you don’t miss it—there is a flicker in his eyes when your choked sob hits the air between you.

Something wet smears your cheek. His blood? Your tears? It’s hard to tell.

“M’gonna make you feel real good, crazy girl.” His lips brush your earlobe as his hips grind down into yours, the length of him sliding between your folds, the tip notched at your entrance.

“Stop,” you whine, but the force has left your voice. Something about him breathing in your ear, something about the sound he makes as he shifts his hips and slips himself inside of you. The tears continue to fall, even as you gasp and clench around him.

“She’s suckin’ me right in baby,” Joel purrs in your ear while his hips start to move.

You can feel every fucking inch of him, every vein, and every single beat of his heart through the slick walls of your cunt. “Oh god,” you groan, your stiff, frightened hands curling in the hair on the back of his head, the other gripping one of his strong, strained biceps.

You're terrified, but Joel's words and touch are overwhelming you, making your body respond in ways you didn’t know could in a position like this.

He thrusts slowly at first as he sinks deeper inside you. But soon his pace quickens and the slapping, wet sounds coming from between your legs fill the small basement room. "Yeah just like that," Mister groans, his lips ghosting over your cheek. "Take it all, baby girl.”

Your walls clench around him, pulling him in as if eager for more. You feel delirious with fear and an unbidden arousal. Tears stream down your face, but soft moans spill from your lips.

Joel licks at your tears and leaves gentle kisses in their place, his beard scraping against your sensitive skin. "Shhhh, I got you," he murmurs between thrusts.

The room spins and blurs as the pleasure builds. Nothing exists and nothing is real anymore; Mister-man’s weight pinning you down, his cock splitting you open, the sour, sweaty, musky scent of him.

He’s real. He’s real. He’s real. He’s real. He’s real and he’s good. He’s good, he’s good, he’s good. He’s not killing you, not hurting you.

So good. It’s so good.

You turn your head to capture his salty, tear stained lips with yours, opening your mouth to let him in. His lips press against yours desperately, tongue licking at your teeth as he slips inside.

Your body arches up to meet him, craving more of his touch even as fear still coils in your gut. It’s like you’re two separate people wrapped up into a whole. One part of you wants him with everything that you are, and the other is ready to hide, ready to slip into the cracks into the wall and never come out.

His oven mitts move to your waist and fumble with the threadbare shirt you have on, trying to push it up over the swell of your breasts.

“Fuck,” he grunts, nipping at your bottom lip as he pulls away from the kiss. He sits back on his knees, cock still throbbing inside of you while your walls flutter around him.

“Don’t, oh god, no. Please don’t go-” you sob, hands and fingers clawing at his forearms, desperate for him to come back. “P-Please don’t leave me,” you whine sadly,

Mister says nothing as he places both mitt covered hands inside your shirt where it’s fastened with buttons. He pulls the two pieces of fabric apart like paper. The buttons fly in every direction, scattering across the floor and some landing in bed with you. Joel stares down at your naked body and you feel more exposed than you ever have in your entire life.

“Jesus christ,” he murmurs, eyes tracing every single one of your curves. His mittened hands cups the swell of your tits, thumb swiping over the stiff buds

It’s like you’ve been zapped by the shock collar. Your back arches into his hand, your eyes clamp shut.

“Nuh-uh, watch me,” he growls. He waits until your eyes are on him before he leans over and takes one of your nipples into his mouth. His tongue swirls and teeth graze and bite down.

“Oh my god,” you groan, your fingers gripping his hair tighter, your nails dragging red, almost bloody marks down his arm.

Mister releases your nipple with a wet pop, blowing cool air across it almost like he’s teasing you. Goosebumps erupt across your skin as he takes the other into his mouth, alternating between harsh sucking and tender kisses.

You mewl softly as he begins to thrust again, each movement slow and deliberate. He drives deep inside of you and hits that spot that blurs the edges of your vision again, and again, and again.

You stare up at him in awe- his beard is longer, thicker than it was when he first came here, his hair disheveled and damp with sweat hangs in his forehead. He leans back and pushes the loose strands away from his face with an oven mitt.

Handsome.

He is.

Strong.

Being so gentle.

With you, Sugar. So gentle—

With you.

"Please," you whimper, spine bowing as pleasure coils tight in your belly as his hips snap against yours loudly. “More. Need more…”

He grins down at you, eyes crinkled at the corners, “I’ll give ya’ more, sweetheart.” If you thought Mister was handsome before, when he smiles your heart swells. and the pressure and tightness inside of you feels like it’s about to burst.

He wraps one hand underneath your knee and brings it up, resting your ankle on his shoulder by his ear, repeating the process with the other leg. He grips your thighs, the scratchy fabric of the oven mitts drags across your skin. Joel never lets up, never slows down the brutal, bruising pace he sets.

A string of expletives and maybe his name more than once spill out of your mouth quickly, stumbling over the words as your body trembles underneath him.

All of the air is pushed out of you as he leans over, pushing your knees up to your chest and starts fucking into you with deep, long strokes. His pelvis grinds against your swollen clit with each powerful snap forward, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"I can feel her squeezin’ me," he rasps hotly in your ear, licking the shell before biting down on your earlobe. “Come on my cock, crazy girl.”

That does it. It’s more than enough to push you over the edge. “Oh—” Your head tips back with a silent scream as your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave, making your entire body shudder and convulse beneath him. “Fuck… Joel!” Sparks burst behind your eyelids as pure rapture consumes you.

Mister sucks your earlobe as you come, his sweaty temple pressed against yours as the waves wash over you. He’s kissing and licking down to your neck, and bites down hard right over your pulse point, sucking hard enough to hurt. "That's it baby girl," he grunts against the spot he just bit.

It’s like your whole body is on fire, everything is too much, it’s all too good.

You feel a new pressure, a new sensation and it’s familiar, but foreign all at the same time. A new release, it’s different and it’s happening so fast.

“Stop! Oh my— Mist- Joel, p-please,” you plead for some sort of relief. “I’m gunna—”

Joel presses his lips to yours again, silencing you. You twist your head to the side, pulling away from his mouth as he kisses down your cheek to your jaw. “S’okay— let go...”

"I...I don't...can't..." You gasp out between ragged breaths. Hot, wet tears still leak from the corners of your eyes as the intense pleasure builds to an unbearable peak.

“Ya’ can,” he pants, resting his forehead on the side of your head. “Cryin’ only makes it feel better, baby girl.” He shifts his hips, angles them differently and fucks you harder- faster.

“P-Please,” you whimper, unsure if you’re begging him to stop, or to keep going. “S’too much!”

“Shut up,” he growls, nipping at your cheek gently, teeth scraping skin as he pistons into you relentlessly. “Let it happen, crazy girl.”

So you do- body obeying his command even as your mind reels with what’s about to happen. A second climax crashes over you, more intense than the first. It erupts from you in a wet splash against Mister’s lower stomach and pelvis, it drips down the curve of your ass and you feel it seeping into the mattress underneath you.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he praises breathlessly. “Such a good fuckin’ girl cummin’ on Mister’s cock again.”

You sob in pleasure and embarrassment simultaneously as he fucks you through it, his deep voice rasping in your ear.

“Crazy,” He murmurs. His thrusts grow clumsy, and he’s panting in your ear, kissing the side of your face. His tongue captures the tears on your cheeks again like they’re his favorite drink as your fingers dig into the soft flesh on his shoulder. “Makin’ me fuckin’ crazy,” he snaps suddenly, pulling back and out of you completely.

You whimper at the loss but he presses your thighs together tightly with his hands and forearms, and slips his cock between them, the length siding through your wet folds.

Mister-J kisses your ankle, his teeth biting down on the skin as he groans loudly, warmth spreads and seeps between your thighs, and slick lower lips, the crease where your legs meet your pelvis.

You stare up at him, watching as his eyes close, his brow furrows, his hips jerking back and forth clumsily as he empties himself onto your lower half.

Your legs tremble as he slides his softening cock out from between your thighs.

That was the most incredible, and intense feeling you’ve ever experienced and you’re not sure if you should love him, or hate him for what he just did to you. The wet spot on the mattress is an embarrassing reminder of what happened seconds ago.

“S’good for ya’?” Mister asks, running one of his oven mitts over his forehead, wiping the sweat away. His eyes move from your face, down your still naked body, his cum smeared across your mound and lower stomach.

You pull your shirt closed around your bare torso, holding it closed with one hand. You use your good foot and the other hand to push yourself onto the cold concrete floor— skin scraping roughly as you shove yourself away from him.

His brows pinch together tightly, and he narrows his eyes on you. “Where’re ya’ goin’?” He sounds… concerned? Angry? Disappointed?

The words don’t find you, thoughts don’t come to you anymore as you hold the shirt over your chest and glare at him. All you can do is scream at him. It comes from somewhere deep and your lungs hurt, your throat feels like it could bleed from how raw it is after.

“Where’re ya’ goin’?”

He watches as tears continue to pour down your cheeks, your face twisting up tightly. You inhale deeply, and it looks like you’re trying to regain your composure.

Then you scream at him. It’s long and loud and hurts his ears, but he stares at you until you’re done. He continues to watch as you scurry away from him in a clumsy, stumbling crab-crawl until your back bumps into the leg of the table.

You flinch and stifle a sob, and finally take a deep, shaky breath. You use the table to push yourself to your feet, turning away from him finally. You shove the table in his direction, grabbing the shock collar remote before you turn, and limp into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you.

The dull roar of the infected grows louder from upstairs. They’re still there, and that means the two of you are stuck together for at least another day or two, maybe longer.

The door opens again, and a metal bucket comes hurdling out of the bathroom and through the air. It hits the wall, and drops to the floor noisily with chaotic, metal clangs until it comes to settle in the corner by the mattress.

The door slams shut again.

You’re broken, he can see it in your eyes almost all the time, but there was a moment when he was on top of you where he thought you might have completely checked out– gone somewhere else, somewhere he didn’t mean to take you.

Traumatized the poor puppy. Pro’lly in there cryin’.

He’s not worried that you’re crying. Nope. Not even a little.

Alright- that’s what you wanna keep tellin’ yourself, go right ahead.

He’s worried he just signed his death certificate.

Joel wasn’t trying to take anything from you— not like that. You were already on top of him, riding him, but you just looked like you needed some help, like you needed him to take control. Like you didn’t know what you were doing up there, rolling and swirling your hips in any direction. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t ever going to get you there- where you wanted to be so badly.

Joel took you there, made you fucking squirt all over him and he took some sense of pride in that.

Joel helps himself to jerky and bread, he drinks as much water as his body will comfortably allow. For the first time in weeks, he’s actually full. His stomach feels like it’s stretched like he might actually burst.

–-

At first Joel thought you just needed a couple minutes. Maybe you wanted to clean up in the privacy of the bathroom without his eyes on you. But hours go by and he hears nothing coming from the separate room. Nothing.

It’s silent. Completely. No shrieking or clicking of the infected from upstairs either.

It’s the lack of control that’s pissing him off more than he would care to admit. Being captive was of course at the top of his ‘things to be pissed off about’ list, but if he was going to be stuck here with you, he wishes he could at least have a say in what goes on.

Hasn’t seen the sun, hasn’t had a proper shower in god knows when, hasn’t had a real meal in just as long. If you would give him just a little more freedom, things wouldn’t be too fucking bad here.

Now you’re gettin’ it.

You’re making Joel crazy, now he’s thinking about complying?

Y’been complyin’, Mister. Complied real damn good in that bed just then.

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit.

Has Joel been complying? What the fuck is going on? Why didn’t he kill you in bed? Why didn’t he strangle you, bite your jugular out of your throat. He could have, he felt your heartbeat on his tongue. He could have ended all of this right then.

But ya’ didn’t!

He sure fucking didn’t. He was so unworried about killing, that he made sure you came– twice – before he finished.

Looked so sweet comin’ on your cock, perfect tits bouncin’, fuckin’ pussy was immaculate.

Joel presses the oven mitts into the sockets of his eyes and groans loudly.

Joel’s eyes snap open at the rattling coming from inside the room. He shoots up, looking around with crusty eyes and blurry vision. He expects to see you but is met with the sight of that fucking opposum sitting on the table with a piece of Joel’s jerky in his clawed little fingers, munching happily on the dried meat.

“Git!” Joel shouts. The small animal doesn’t even flinch at Joel’s outburst, just continues to eat that precious protein. “Y’little fuckin’--” Joel grumbles, pushing himself to his feet. He stands in front of the table, looking down at it- the opposum- Puddin’.

He just stares right back up at Joel, chewing quickly and swallowing.

Kinda cute.

“S’fuckin’ gross,” Joel grumbles. He doesn’t really want to touch that thing, he doesn’t want to get whatever diseases that thing could be carrying.

He’s got a collar on.

Puddin’ does have a collar on. Joel imagines you taking your time picking it out for him, going through all the colors and designs. He can see you finding the teal and pink collar, holding it up against his fur and saying it’s perfect. That Puddin’ would be the most handsome opossum this mall has ever seen.

It makes him smile.

It feels like two fucking days--two goddamn days since Joel saw you walk into that bathroom and slam the door shut practically in his face.

You’re either dead in there or plotting the most painful ways to kill him. Both choices make Joel sick to his stomach.

–--

Joel watches you behind the metal grate that keeps the mattress store all locked up nice and tight. He’s on the wrong fucking side! He’s on the mall side and you’re tucked under the covers of your comfortable looking bed. Seven mattresses stacked on top of each other like you’re in some fucking story he’d read to Sarah when she was really little.

Joel almost wishes he could go back to the basement because this is more dehumanizing than being tied up by the elbows or roped up to a chair.

The metal chain around his neck is tight, and it digs into his skin. It’s thick, heavy and has prongs on it– like he’s a fucking dog. A violent dog that lunges, and bites and attacks.

You opened the door to the bathroom an hour ago with the choke chain in your hand, the shock collar remote taped to the other, and the most exhausted look Joel’s ever seen on anyone's face. Big dark circles under your eyes, disassociated stare like you weren’t even really looking at Joel when you spoke to him in almost indecipherable mumbling.

Joel fought you a little when you padlocked the choke chain to his neck, and added a smaller lock to the shock collar. But he stopped when you said you were gonna take his oven mitts off his hands.

Where are all the infected? It sounded like there had been a horde of them up here two days ago and now there is not a single sign that they had even been here.

When Joel had questioned you about what he would do if more infected came, you very confidently said that no one could get in or out that easily anymore; that you had made this place nice and safe for your ‘mister-man’.

Ain’t ever had no one like that before, have ya’?

No.

That had always been Joel’s job; to keep everyone else safe.

Who made sure that he was safe?

There had always been give and take with everyone else, even Tommy and Tess. There was love there, sure– but never just someone absolutely and completely tearing themselves open to make sure that Joel was taken care of.

The only thing you wanted in return was his company.

Might’a never touched ya’ if you hadn’t asked for it.

He wonders what your name is. How old you are, where you came from. How long have you been out here…

Joel grabs the metal cord wrapped in some sort of plastic or vinyl material that goes all the way up to the ceiling and gives it a shake as he looks up. You’ve attached it to some other sort of rope or cable that’s been tied from one end of the mall to the other.

The other end is connected to Joel’s choke chain.

As soon as your eyes closed he attempted to unclip himself from it but it wouldn’t budge. He tried everything but it was like you welded the clasp closed.

Joel wanders. That’s all he can do. He’s got more than enough slack to go into whatever store he wants and walk around, inspect.

As he does this his mind doesn’t stop thinking about you. Why didn’t you sleep with him? What did you do while he slept on the bed? Did you sleep? Have you eaten? What the fuck did you do in the bathroom for two whole days?

Joel finds a place where the sun is shining through a hole in the ceiling and faces it with his eyes closed. He could fucking cry. He didn’t realize how much he missed this, how important it was for a person to come in contact with the sunlight. He chokes down the lump in his throat and stands there, following the sun as it moves in the sky, the light coming in at shifting angles and directions. He follows it, stays in the warmth- basking in it for as long as possible until dusk settles and the sky slowly starts to turn pink.

Joel has his backpack with him. You packed him some food and water, his flashlight. A clean long sleeve shirt in case it got cold. You even threw in some whiskey for him, which he was enjoying sip by sip.

He pulls his flashlight out and uses it when he goes into an old bookstore. Some shelves are empty; nature guides, atlases, hunting and fishing- basically the entire outdoors section is gone.

The romance novels are almost bare.

Who needs those when lil puppy’s got you, right?

There are still self-help books on the shelves, almost untouched and whatever is left looks like it would fall apart in his hands if he tried to touch it.

Why’s you even in this section?

Joel wanders to the comics and takes a look at whatever is left. Some are in alright condition, wrapped in plastic away from the elements. Some do disintegrate before he can even get them out of their place on the shelf.

He grabs a Batman comic still in a vinyl sleeve and tosses it in his pack for later. There are tons more strewn all across the floor, some he remembers reading with Tommy as kids. He picks through them, looking for any worth saving and finds two more still in decent condition.

There are several department and clothing stores that look bare from the outside, but he wanders into one anyway just to see what might have been missed.

There’s an exit to the outside that's been all boarded up, with what looks like every empty clothing rack pushed in front of it. He thinks about moving all those things, breaking through the boards… but where the fuck would he go? Ten feet outside of the mall where the infected were apparently moving through?

No.

He’ll stay inside.

He paruses the homegoods section all the way in the back of the second floor and finds a wall of empty shelves except for one.

It’s filled with books- he reads through the titles: The Beginners Guide to Foraging, An Introduction to Wildlife Rehabilitation, LIVING WITH WILDLIFE- How to Enjoy, Cope with, and Protect North America’s Wild Creatures Around Your Home and Theirs, The Big Book of Skill Makers, The Complete Beginners Guide to Greenhouse Gardening- A Month by Month Planting Book to Grow 365 Days a Year, You Will Find Your People- How To Make Meaningful Friendships as an Adult. There are several Batman comics featuring Harley Quinn and The Joker.

They all look like they’ve been read thoroughly and many times.

On the same shelf there is a pink balloon animal made of glass, it has fresh flowers in it, with clean water. It takes him several seconds to realize that it’s supposed to be a bong. For smoking weed. And you’re using it as a vase.

Joel chuckles to himself and continues to look at the shelf of your important belongings. A couple rocks of different colors, an old makeup compact that has a broken mirror in it. And a small glass picture frame of a family– a mother and a father, a little girl, and a young man but his face has been scratched out beyond recognition.

On the wall behind the shelf Joel notices lines carved into the wall.

| | | | | | | | | | |

Twelve. Is that how old you were when this all happened? Is that the number of men you did this to before Joel came along? Are you going to add him to this fucking list?

Is that how many months you've been out here?

All of this suddenly feels like someone he can’t see punched Joel directly in the stomach.

Sad.

Joel makes his way to a different part of the mall, checking every entrance that he finds along the way and they’re all boarded up better than they were when he used to walk around here before you captured him. He does appreciate the effort you went through to make sure nothing could get in if you weren’t going to give him a weapon, and he couldn’t escape.

There is an old music and entertainment store where you must get your princess movies and cartoons to watch. He picks through a couple, finding a couple classics that he watched before the outbreak Office Space, Dirty Harry, The Thing, Top Gun.

He grabs a couple more that he watched as a kid with his dad and grandpa; The Magnificent 7, The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. He grabs the three original Star Wars movies as well– the best ones, the only ones worth watching. The ones that started to come out right before the outbreak– Joel can’t even talk about it.

He’s done his exploring and now he sits outside of the mattress store waiting for you to wake up and let him back in. As soon as Joel unwraps the sandwich and jerky you made him, that stupid fucking oppossum comes scampering along like this is it’s dinner too.

“Get the hell outta here,” Joel grumbles, waving his hand in its direction, trying to scare it off– but it persists.

Inching closer and closer until Joel could kick it if he wanted to.

Kinda cute in the little collar.

Joel tosses a piece of his sandwich a good distance away and Puddin’ chases after it while Joel digs into his own portion.

Hours and hours go by, you sleep for so fucking long. He reads all of the comic books that he grabbed and even goes back to the bookstore to look for more. He finds nothing else that interests him so he goes to your bookshelf in the department store and grabs a couple from there to look at.

He’s flipping through the skill maker book when you finally wake up and open the grate.

Joel scrambles to his feet, watching as you rub your eyes with your one free hand, the other still has the remote tapped to your palm.

The two of you stare at each other for several silent moments before you notice the book in his hand.

“Just put it back where ya’ found it when you’re done with it, ‘kay?” Your voice is deep and filled with sleep.

Joel nods his head, and puts the book in his backpack. “Yeah, sure– hey where did all the infected go?” He questions as you toss your own pack over your shoulder and head in the direction of the food court.

“Cleared ‘em out the other day.”

“How the hell did you do that? When? After we–”

“Yup.” You cut him off with a sharp, short response. “Wasn’t that many. Kinda easy when you get high ground on ‘em.”

Joel eyes dart up to the rafters and wonders how good you are with a bow and arrow. He knows Ellie is a great shot, loves her bow and arrow. “And you moved ‘em all out on your own?”

“Yup.”

“How did you even get out of the bathroom?” Joel’s been wondering that this whole time.

You walked into the bathroom, slammed the door and the next time he saw you was coming down the stairs to the basement.

He wonders if you’re even real.

Ohh our lil puppy is real alright.

If you knew that Mister-J was going to ask all of these questions you might not have ever taken the duct tape off.

Where did the infected go? What if more get in? How did you get out of the bathroom? Where are you going now? When will you be back? Are you okay? Are you mad? What’s wrong? Why aren’t you answering me?

He’s so nosy! Asking more questions than any of the other guys combined.

Why does he even care?

Shhhhh, this is what makin’ friends is, Sweetheart.

“Used the vents to get out of the bathroom,” you sigh, not stopping or slowing down but Joel keeps up anyway, his arm brushing yours as he walks alongside you.

“What about the infected– you know the spores–”

“I burn ‘em outside at night when it’s real dark–” you explain to him quickly. “I ain’t stupid. I know ‘bout the spores. I know how the fungus works. I paid attention,” you huff softly as you reach the ladder that takes you up into the rafters and eventually out onto the roof.

Mister is too big, and probably too clumsy to follow you up here.

“M’just goin’ to get some more food… I’ll be right back– couple of minutes, okay?”

Mister looks relieved when you say this, his face relaxes and he sighs softly. “Okay, just be careful.”

— -- --- ---

“Is that my shirt?” He asks about the green and red flannel you have on when you come out of the women’s restroom in the food court. Your hair is clean, your body feels refreshed after taking a shower.

Mister looks good too with his hair slicked back, and his beard trimmed neatly.

You nod, not taking your eyes off of him. It’s almost impossible when he looks like a brand new man- handsome. He looks like he’s lost weight since he’s been here with you.

You’ll fix that. He needs to eat more than you, and he wants meat so… you’ll go get it for him. Real meat this time, even if it makes you sad how you have to get it.

“Yeah, I took it ‘cause it smelled like you.” You admit with no shame. That’s exactly why you took it. So you could sleep with it so he could warm up to his new house, with his new friend.

Mister-J chuckles, and shakes his head at you with a smirk plastered across his face. “Someone told me I stink once,” he says through his laughter.

This makes you smile because he’s happy. He looks happy, like he doesn’t mind talking to you, he’s not saying mean things. He’s sharing.

Told ya’ he’d get comfortable. Just had to be patient. We figured it all out eventually.

“You do stink sometimes, but you smell real, so I don’t mind.” You share with him as you lead him back to the mattress store. He carried the TV up earlier and said he found a couple movies he wanted to watch. They don’t really look like movies you want to watch, but you’ll give them a shot.

Anything for Mister-Joel, perfect, sweet man.

It doesn’t make this easier. Mister wants to sleep in the bed next to you, said he wanted to warm you up, but now you’re next to him again and it feels like you could burst into flames and tears all at the same time.

“What’s your name?” He whispers into your ear, his arms wrapped around your waist, holding onto you tightly from behind.

“Why?” The sirens go off inside your head. No one’s asked you that in so long, it makes your stomach flip and you feel like you could be sick.

“Told’ya mine,” He murmurs into your hair.

Joel.

When you go to answer, the words don’t come because the memories are gone. You can see your mom and dad talking to you inside your head but their voices are on mute. The name never leaves their mouth. “I don’t remember…”

OFC thank you @pedrospookie for making this cutie banner and letting me scream at about all of this!!

I need to give an extra special shout-out to the couple of other people I screamed at about this. @almostempty @gothcsz( your music recs inspired me) and thanks to @probablyreadinsmut and my unnamed friend who helped me with the TW of the chapter.

I was especially nervous to post this because I didn't want to ruin anyone's day or send anyone into their own spiral. I hope you all are OK!

thank you to everyone who has been reading!! I've never gotten such incredible feedback on a fic before and you are all so nice and make writing this story that much more fun. I LOVE YOU

TAG LIST: @pedrospookie @gothcsz @joelmillerisapunk @sp00kymulderr @paleidiot @goodvampykitten @rosebuds-and-moonlight @diabaroxa @zhazy-blog2 @almostempty @xdaddysprincessxx @tobethlehem @lilac-boo @xkyxkyxxlylcylulucuflfluclu @rav3n-pascal22 @baronessvonglitter @joelmillerisapunk @syd-djarin @probablyreadinsmut @itwasntimethatdidit40 @letsgobarbs @lovehappyloki @joelalorian @pedrostories @evolnoomym @valkyreally @youdontknowe @corazondebeskar-reads @pastelpinkflowerlife @tobethlehem

please don't hate me if I forgot you, I have a hamster brain, ok?

#pedro pascal characters #fic: girl dinner #kidnapped!joel miller x unhinged!reader #kidnapped!joel miller #crazy!reader #unhinged!reader #strong as hell bad ass bitch!reader #dddne #dead dove do not eat #smut #joel miller smut #dark!Joel #dark!reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel the last of us

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buzzinrusso · 1 day ago

Text

meeting the family

Based off this request !! Thank you and keep sending in more :)) And thank you for 500!!! That's just insane tbh

You had never been this nervous in your life.

It had started the moment you woke up, a deep, gnawing anxiety settled in the pit of your stomach, slowly creeping up through your chest. Every thought was a swirl of nerves, making your limbs feel heavy, and your mind running in endless circles. The day had arrived: the first official dinner at Emily’s parents’ house. You had met her family before, but this dinner was different. This wasn’t just a casual get-together—it was the first time you’d be meeting them as her girlfriend. Her serious girlfriend. And despite all of Emily’s reassurances, you couldn’t stop worrying about the possibility of saying or doing something awkward.

You couldn’t help but rehearse every potential disaster in your mind: What if they didn’t like you? What if you said the wrong thing? What if you tripped and spilled something on her mum’s lap? What if they thought you were too weird, too quiet, or too different?

Your heart was pounding in your chest, and the feeling was overwhelming as you tried to distract yourself by adjusting your shirt once again in the mirror. Your stomach churned, and your reflection felt foreign to you. Why was this dinner so important? Why did it feel like this moment was somehow a measure of how everything between you and Emily would turn out? You couldn’t even begin to explain it, but the nerves wouldn’t let go.

“Em,” you called out to her, pacing around her room. “What if I mess it all up? What if they don’t like me? What if—”

Emily’s voice interrupted you softly, filled with that calm confidence she always seemed to exude. “Babe, you’re overthinking this.”

You spun around dramatically to face her. “Of course I’m overthinking! I’ve never been this nervous in my life. This is huge for me!”

Emily sat on the edge of the bed, watching you with that patient smile that always had a way of calming you. She was standing now, crossing the room toward you with a relaxed energy, completely unphased by your anxious rambling.

“You’re acting like you’re about to meet royalty, not my family,” she teased, and you couldn’t help but let out a short laugh, even though your nerves were still swirling. “They’re just normal people, love. They’re gonna love you, I promise.”

You raised an eyebrow at her, still not entirely convinced. “What if they don’t? What if—”

Emily placed her hands gently on your shoulders, grounding you instantly. Her touch was warm, reassuring, and when she looked at you, her gaze was soft but full of certainty.

“Stop worrying,” she whispered, her voice tender. “They already love you.”

The words were simple, but there was so much trust behind them, so much faith that you could feel yourself starting to believe it, just a little. “You really think so?” you asked quietly, meeting her eyes.

Emily’s smile deepened. “I know so. You’re amazing, babe. You have nothing to worry about.”

You let out a slow breath and, for the first time that day, felt a sense of calm wash over you. “Okay… okay. I’ll try.” You paused before looking at yourself in the mirror once again, still unsure about your outfit. “But what if I look ridiculous?”

Emily laughed softly, walking up to you and glancing you up and down. “You look perfect. Don’t overthink it. My family isn’t expecting you to wear a ball gown or anything.” She raised an eyebrow playfully. “Trust me, just be yourself. That’s all they’re gonna want to see.”

You sighed and nodded slowly. “Alright, I’ll just be me.”

Emily leaned in to press a quick kiss to your temple, her lips soft and warm against your skin. “That’s my girl.”

---

As you pulled into Emily’s parents’ driveway, the nerves returned with a vengeance.

Your palms were sweaty, and your heart was racing again. Every step felt heavy, every breath shallow as you tried to calm your mind. You could feel the weight of the evening ahead pressing down on you. Emily reached over, gently taking your hand in hers. Her touch was grounding, steadying, and as she rubbed her thumb over your knuckles, you felt a slight calming effect.

“Breathe, love,” she murmured softly, glancing at you with a reassuring smile. “It’s just dinner. It’s not like you’re about to meet the Queen of England.”

You turned to her, eyes wide and filled with anxiety. “It’s not just dinner, Em. It’s my first impression. What if I mess it up? What if I say something awkward or—”

She laughed, the sound light and soothing. “You’re adorable when you panic, you know that?”

You groaned, leaning back in your seat and staring at the ceiling. “I’m doomed, Em.”

“Drama queen,” she teased, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Come on. Let’s get this over with. They’re gonna love you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh along with her. Her playful attitude helped ease your nerves, even if just a little.

---

When Emily knocked on the door, it swung open immediately.

“Oh, finally!”

Before you could even react, a woman who was unmistakably Emily’s mum pulled you into a tight, affectionate hug. You barely had time to register her warm embrace before she pulled away slightly, holding you at arm’s length.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s so lovely to finally meet you! Emily’s been talking about you nonstop!”

Your cheeks flushed a deep red. “Oh—uh, really?” you stammered, still caught off guard by her immediate warmth.

Emily groaned, rolling her eyes. “Mum—”

“All good things, don’t worry,” her mum assured with a wink. “I promise she only says the best things about you.” She looped her arm through yours, pulling you inside as if you had been coming here for years. The feeling of comfort was immediate, and you could already feel the nervousness begin to fade.

The house was exactly how you imagined it: cozy, inviting, filled with framed photos and little trinkets. You couldn’t help but admire the picture of a younger Emily—probably eight or nine—grinning with pride on a football field, holding a trophy in her hands. It was a simple picture, but it made your heart swell a little. You could almost hear her telling the story of that moment if you listened hard enough.

Before you could even speak, a deep voice came from across the room.

“You must be the famous girlfriend.”

You turned to find Emily’s dad standing near the fireplace. His smile was warm and welcoming, a genuine look of happiness on his face. He stepped forward, hand outstretched, and you hesitated for just a moment before shaking it.

“No need to be nervous,” he chuckled, his voice rich with kindness. “We’re just happy our Emily’s found someone who makes her happy.”

“She definitely makes me happy,” Emily added, squeezing your waist affectionately.

Her younger siblings arrived shortly after, and you found yourself instantly caught up in their energy. They immediately bombarded you with questions, everything from “How did you and Emily meet?” to “Who asked who out first?” and, of course, “Do you know she snores?”

Emily protested with a flustered laugh, denying the accusation. “I do not snore!”

You giggled beside her, enjoying the teasing atmosphere. It was light, playful, and completely different from what you had expected.

Her family was so warm, so welcoming, and you felt yourself slowly starting to relax as the evening unfolded. This wasn’t some formal, uncomfortable dinner. Instead, it was like you’d stepped into a family gathering where you already belonged.

---

Dinner was filled with laughter, teasing, and stories of Emily’s childhood.

At one point, her mum started telling a story about Emily getting stuck in a tree at age eight, and you nearly choked on your drink from laughing too hard.

“She refused to come down because she was convinced she could make it higher,” her dad recalled, shaking his head with fond amusement. “Took us a full hour to convince her to jump down into my arms.”

You turned to Emily with wide eyes, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “You never told me you were a little daredevil.”

Emily huffed. “I was a very ambitious child.”

Her younger sibling, a 15-year-old girl, laughed loudly. “You were a menace.”

You laughed so hard you nearly cried. Emily shot you a playful glare before leaning over to press a kiss to your cheek.

“If I had known my own girlfriend would betray me like this, I might have reconsidered bringing you here,” she whispered dramatically, making you chuckle even more.

You grinned at her, nudging her gently. “Liar. You love that I’m here.”

She huffed but squeezed your thigh under the table. The touch was subtle, but it spoke volumes, and you felt your heart flutter at the tenderness.

---

After dinner, Emily led you upstairs to her childhood bedroom.

You couldn’t help but feel a bit in awe as you looked around. The room was a testament to her younger years—old posters still stuck to the walls, fairy lights strung across the ceiling, and the bed that was definitely too small for two people to sleep in comfortably.

“This is where you grew up?” you asked, your voice soft as you took in every detail.

Emily grinned, plopping down onto her bed and patting the spot next to her. "Yup. This is where all the magic happened."

You raised an eyebrow, amused. "Magic? I don't know about that. But it’s cute."

Emily’s room was like a time capsule of her childhood—a mixture of her past interests, little mementos, and the cozy ambiance that made it clear this place had been her sanctuary. You glanced around at the tattered plushies on the shelf, the notes pinned to the corkboard, and the fairy lights still strung around the room in lazy loops. You could almost see the 12-year-old version of her lying on the bed, scribbling in her notebook, or maybe laughing with her friends on the phone.

You stood still for a moment, taking it all in. It was surreal, seeing this side of her—the version of Emily that had been a child, growing up in this very room. You turned in a slow circle, wondering what it had been like for her during those early years. It made her feel even more real, somehow, like she’d had a whole life before you came into it, and you were lucky enough to be part of it now.

When you finally met her gaze, she was grinning, her eyes dancing with mischief. "What do you think?" she asked, obviously enjoying the effect her childhood bedroom had on you.

"I think..." you paused, pretending to deliberate, "...that I’m in danger of getting buried in all these stuffed animals if I sit down. There’s not even enough room for me in here."

Emily rolled her eyes but patted the bed beside her again, an invitation you didn’t hesitate to accept. "Fine. Get comfy. And for the record, I totally offer my childhood room for cuddling. It's a privilege."

You laughed and plopped down next to her, where she immediately threw her arm around you, pulling you into her side. You relaxed into her warmth, and for a moment, the nervousness of earlier seemed like a distant memory. The evening had been so much easier than you had imagined. Her family was everything Emily had promised—welcoming, kind, and full of humor. They had made you feel like you’d been a part of their world for years.

As you settled in beside Emily on the bed, you noticed her room’s soft ambiance. The glow of the fairy lights bathed everything in a soft, comforting warmth, and you felt a strange sense of contentment. Your nerves were completely gone now, replaced with a feeling of home. A feeling you hadn’t expected to have, but there it was.

"You know," you murmured, shifting so your head rested against her shoulder, "I think your family really does like me."

Emily let out a soft laugh, brushing her fingers through your hair. "I told you so." Her voice was gentle, teasing, but there was something else behind it—a pride, maybe, or a deep, quiet affection.

"I know, I just—" You paused, your voice growing softer as you realized how much this moment meant to you. "I’m glad. I was worried at first, but they made me feel like I belong."

Emily's fingers paused in your hair as she looked down at you, her expression softening. She kissed the top of your head, her lips lingering there for a moment before she pulled away, but not without leaving the warmth of her affection behind. "You do belong, love. They like you because you make me happy. And that’s all that matters."

Your heart fluttered at her words, and you snuggled closer to her, feeling the weight of the day slowly ease off your shoulders. You hadn’t expected to feel so... content, so at ease. Her family had made you feel accepted, loved, like you were already a part of their lives without even having to try.

"I’m still kind of in awe of everything," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper now. "It’s just... perfect. You’re perfect. Your family’s perfect."

Emily chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and you could feel the warmth of her smile against your skin. "I’m glad you’re feeling that way," she whispered. "It means a lot that you like them. And that you’re comfortable with me and my world."

You grinned up at her, feeling your chest swell with affection for her. "Well, it’s easy to like your family when they’re as awesome as you are."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," she teased, but there was a sweetness to her voice that made your heart skip.

You snuggled into her more, letting the quiet of the room wrap around you both. Outside, the evening settled into a peaceful calm, and the sounds of distant conversation from downstairs faded as the house grew still. But in this room, in this moment, everything felt so right. You could almost imagine the years stretching out ahead of you—visits to Emily’s childhood home, holidays spent with her family, quiet nights like this one where everything was simple and warm.

And then Emily broke the silence with a soft laugh, her breath tickling your ear. "You know, I can’t believe I let you get away with embarrassing me in front of everyone with that tree story."

You lifted your head from her shoulder to look at her with a teasing smile. "Oh, come on. You were a daredevil! It’s an important part of who you are!"

Emily groaned, but you could tell she was enjoying the teasing as much as you were. She leaned forward to press a quick kiss to your lips, her hand resting on the back of your neck as she pulled you into the kiss. "You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?"

You laughed against her lips, the sound muffled but light. "Nope. I’ll bring it up every chance I get."

When you finally pulled away, Emily smiled at you—one of those soft, full smiles that made your heart flutter. "I don’t mind. I like that you’re here. That you’re part of my life now."

The words felt like they meant so much more than just a simple statement. You could feel the weight of them, the affection, the depth of emotion in the way she spoke them. And for the first time that day, you truly believed it. You belonged here. You belonged with Emily.

The rest of the evening passed in a comfortable haze, filled with soft laughter, shared glances, and moments of quiet contentment. Emily’s family eventually came to say their goodnights, but the feeling of being welcomed, accepted, and cared for lingered. You were no longer the nervous, unsure person who had walked in through the front door. You were part of something now—a family that embraced you without hesitation, and a love that made everything feel possible.

As you lay there, nestled against Emily, you couldn’t help but smile softly. Everything had gone better than you could’ve imagined, and the future suddenly felt bright. For the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to dream of all the memories you’d create together. You belonged, and this felt like just the beginning.

---

Emily pulled you closer as the night stretched on. The soft flicker of the fairy lights created a peaceful glow in the room, and the occasional sound of distant laughter from the downstairs mingled with the silence of the bedroom. It was surreal being in this space with her, the two of you sharing such a simple, yet deeply intimate moment. You rested your head on her chest, your hand resting lightly on her stomach. It felt like time had slowed down in the best way possible.

“I can’t believe how much your family already loves me,” you murmured, breaking the silence, your voice soft and reflective. “It feels like... I’ve known them forever.”

Emily’s hand brushed gently through your hair, and she chuckled. “You’re making it sound like a fairy tale,” she teased. “But seriously, I think they just see how happy you make me. That’s all it takes, really.”

You smiled against her chest, your fingers tracing little patterns on her skin. “Still, I didn’t expect it to feel so natural. Like I just fit into your world without any of that awkwardness I thought would happen.”

“I told you,” she whispered, kissing the top of your head. “You fit perfectly. And they see that too.”

You both grew quiet again, the contented hum of the house lulling you into a comfortable peace. The warmth of Emily’s body next to yours and the rhythmic sound of her breathing soothed you, filling you with a deep sense of belonging. Her family had embraced you with open arms, and it wasn’t just their warmth that made you feel like part of the fold—it was the way Emily looked at you, the way she made everything feel effortless, like nothing could go wrong as long as you were together.

“Hey,” Emily murmured after a moment of peaceful silence, her voice low and playful. “You know what’s something I didn’t mention earlier?”

You looked up, intrigued. “What’s that?”

Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “I told you about my family, but you haven’t heard any of my embarrassing stories yet. There’s a whole list of those.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, now I’m intrigued.”

She laughed softly. “Well, let me just say—there was the time I tried to bake cookies for the first time and nearly set the kitchen on fire.”

You gasped in mock horror, pressing a hand to your chest. “No way! Tell me more!”

Emily sat up slightly, an impish smile on her lips as she began to recount the story. “I was about 10, and I had this ‘brilliant’ idea that I would surprise my mum by baking cookies. But... I didn’t read the recipe correctly. The oven was on too high, and the cookies were black before I even realized it. I remember standing in the kitchen, staring at the smoke, thinking, ‘Well, at least the house is still standing.’”

You burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the quiet room. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you did that! Did your mum freak out?”

Emily giggled, lying back down beside you. “She was more concerned about the smoke alarm than the cookies, honestly. She came into the kitchen and just stared at me, and I remember her saying, ‘Emily, you’re never baking again.’”

You snorted, unable to contain your laughter. “I can totally see that. Your mum seems like she’d be very direct about things.”

“She’s definitely not shy,” Emily agreed with a grin. “But she’s also got a big heart. She was laughing just as hard as I was once we aired out the kitchen.”

You smiled, your heart feeling fuller as you listened to Emily’s playful retelling. It was these small glimpses into her childhood, these intimate stories, that made her even more endearing to you. She had grown up just like anyone else—messing up, laughing at herself, and learning along the way. It made you feel closer to her, like you were discovering pieces of the puzzle that was Emily, and you loved every second of it.

"You're so lucky," you said softly, your fingers brushing against her hand. "Your family sounds amazing. I wish I had that when I was growing up."

Emily turned to face you, her expression softening. “You know you’ve got that now, right? With me, and with my family. They already see you as part of the crew.”

You sighed contentedly, letting her words sink in. There was something about the way she said it—like it was just a fact, a given—that made you feel truly accepted, more than you had in a long time. You didn't have to prove anything. You didn’t have to try to fit in. You just did.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice quiet but full of gratitude. “That really means a lot to me.”

Emily smiled, leaning in to kiss your forehead softly. "You're more than welcome, love."

You both lay there for a while, just enjoying the quiet of the room, the weight of the day finally lifting off your shoulders. Eventually, though, Emily broke the peace with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“So,” she said, her voice suddenly playful, “since you’re all cuddled up in my bed and I’m feeling generous, I think it’s time for one more embarrassing story. This one’s a real gem.”

You groaned dramatically, but your curiosity won out. “Oh, here we go. Hit me with it.”

Emily chuckled, her fingers gently tracing patterns on your arm. “Alright, so when I was 14, I had this huge crush on this girl in my class. Like, I had it bad. I had the whole ‘love letters, blushing every time she spoke to me’ kind of crush, you know? Anyway, I decided to write her a note, because obviously, I was the best at expressing myself in writing at that age.”

You snickered, already loving where this was going. “Please tell me you didn’t make it too dramatic.”

She rolled her eyes with a grin. “You have no idea. So, I handwrite this note, and I even put a heart doodle on it to make it super obvious. Then, during lunch, I finally work up the courage to slip it into her locker. But... well, turns out, I was so nervous that I grabbed the wrong locker.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “Oh no. Did you leave the love note in the wrong locker?”

Emily nodded, stifling her laughter. “Yeah. And not just any locker. The jock’s locker. The guy who, by the way, was the worst at keeping things to himself. He found the note, read it out loud in the middle of the hall, and—well, let’s just say that story made its way around school faster than wildfire.”

You gasped, holding your stomach from laughing so hard. “Oh my god, that’s priceless. What did you do?!”

“I spent the rest of the week hiding in the library,” Emily admitted with a sheepish grin. “But the worst part? The girl I had a crush on? She was actually really sweet about it. She came up to me the next day, apologized for the misunderstanding, and then said—‘If you ever want to try again, just make sure it’s the right locker next time.’”

You wiped a tear from your eye as you giggled uncontrollably. “That’s amazing. Honestly, you’re lucky she didn’t totally roast you.”

Emily shrugged, her smile genuine. “I learned a lot from it. Mostly about being more careful with where I put my notes and not trying to be so dramatic.”

You settled back against the pillow, still chuckling to yourself. “I love hearing these stories,” you said softly. “It’s like I get to know you in a whole new way.”

Emily smiled, her hand finding yours again, intertwining your fingers. “I’m glad you like them. I think there are a lot more to tell, if you’re up for it.”

You squeezed her hand gently, feeling the bond between you both deepen with every shared laugh and story. "I'm definitely up for it," you whispered, smiling as you closed your eyes. "As long as you promise to always be this honest with me."

Emily’s voice was soft as she whispered back, "I promise."

And in that moment, with the warmth of her presence beside you and the quiet peace of her room wrapping you both in its comfort, you knew—this was just the beginning of something

#womens football #woso soccer #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso community #buzzinrusso #emily fox #arsenal wfc #arsenal #emily fox x reader #uswnt x reader

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goodlucktai · 3 days ago

Note

I don’t know if you’re still taking the angsty dialogue prompts but if you are could I humbly request 18 and/or 25 with either the twins or Leo and Gio?

dialogue prompts

18. “Stop. No. Wake up. Wake up! I said wake up!”

When Donnie designed the broadhead arrow with an explosive tip, it was after a vision board evening with Mikey that someone definitely should have crashed before the peanut butter half of their iconic duo starting pitching chaotic and nefarious ideas to an audience of the only mad scientist in the greater Manhattan area willing to indulge him.

A few of the trick arrows they came up with skirted the line of comic book fantasy and practicality neatly—the smokescreen and knockout arrowheads were things of beauty, to name a couple. The three hours spent in an abandoned grain elevator in Brooklyn testing the range of Gio’s brand-new arsenal was some of the most fun Leo could remember having post-invasion.

But the explosive ones—those were unmitigated destruction in a tiny unassuming package. Gio considered one of them for all of two seconds before sliding it back into its designated sleeve.

“Aww, what?” Mikey said.

“We’re on the fourth floor of a derelict grain terminal,” Gio said, which was a very compelling argument. Raph looked a little greener than usual at that reminder, and glanced down at the floor beneath his feet as if visibly reliving the way the whole building had shuddered from the concussive force of the knockout arrow Gio had fired through the window into the overgrown field outside.

Mikey still pouted about it until their eldest brother, physically incapable of not spoiling little siblings rotten whenever he had half a chance, notched one of the zipline bolts into the barrel of his bow and said, “Angie, how fast do you think you could get down to the field and back up on this?”

Brightening predictably, Mikey shouted, “Like, two minutes, probably!”

It turned out to be more like eleven minutes, but Michelangelo was not the giving up kind of turtle. Leo had a stitch in his side from laughing by the time their youngest had clambered gracelessly back up the line, and Donnie was muttering about electric rope ascenders to add to their usual kits. That was about when a security truck rolled up to the grounds and they had to skedaddle, and those explosive arrows were left unassessed.

Donnie built them because he could and because they sounded cool and because when Mikey says anything with stars in his eyes it makes you want to pluck it out of thin air and present it to him before common sense can elbow its way to the front of your brain and say, ‘hey, uh, is that, like, the best choice we could be making?’

He didn’t build them for this.

Whoever the EPF are, they’re coordinated and heavily armed, and have the turtles backed into a corner in a manner of minutes. Fighting baseline humans isn’t really their bag—their bad guys tend to be Foot Clan goons, or mutants running amok in New York City, or any random yokai from the Hidden City they manage to tick off just by existing—and Leo’s heart thuds in his chest when he finds himself on the wrong end of a dozen guns.

What the heck, he wants to ask, where did you guys come from and where were you ten minutes ago when the mutant silverfish outnumbered us ten to one?

He doesn’t ask, because he really doesn’t think this is a situation that can be solved with their words.

His hand drifts toward his sword, just an inch, just to see. One of the men in riot gear fires a warning shot so close that Leo feels the heat of it on his thigh. It punches a noise out of Raph instantly, a chest-deep rumble of panic that sounds, to the untrained ear, like a dangerous snarl. Leo can practically see trigger fingers getting itchier around the room. The situation is spiraling out of his control by the second.

I just need two seconds to reach my sword, Leo thinks, mind racing for a way to pull those seconds out of thin air.

And then a bolt shatters through the window of the warehouse behind him and hits the floor right at the foot of one of the EPF agents. The room is filled with rolling curtains of thick gray smoke instantly and enthusiastically, and Leo has his sword drawn a second later.

He teleports to Mikey first, and then opens a portal beneath their feet that deposits them in front of Donnie, and opens one next to them like a door that Raph’s huge hands reach through instantly to scoop them up and yank them in close to the armor of his plastron.

“Get us back up to Georgie,” Raph says, and Leo has another door open to do exactly that almost before Raph has even finished speaking.

Something makes him look back over his shoulder. A tug on one of the strings tied around his heart.

None of the humans have pinpointed Leo and his brothers yet, despite the light show Leo has put on, and in part that’s because Donnie designed this smokescreen the way he designs everything he puts his Genius Built stamp on, so it looks like it could be dense enough to bear Leo’s weight if he were to test it.

But it’s also in part because those humans have someone else to gun down, and that’s the spotted turtle making a clear and present target of himself on the other side of this huge abandoned packaging plant.

No, Leo thinks in the one corner of his brain that hasn’t shuddered to a stop like a cold-stunned reptile.

Raph’s hand on his arm starts to pull him backwards, through the portal, and it shocks Leo into action, propelling him forward, body on autopilot. Something bad is about to happen. Something bad, something bad. Something like a Krang spike piercing through shell and shoulder, something like an escape pod that wasn’t his carrying him to safety, something like a big brother left behind in the hands of people who want to hurt him.

Time slows to a crawl. The tableau burns itself into Leo’s mind.

No, he thinks.

Gio’s dark eyes swallow all the light in the room, unflinching when they meet Leo’s. He slips a white bolt from the quiver and Leo’s heart climbs right up his throat. He fights the hands grabbing at his shoulders and the arm wrapped around his middle but it’s three against one and he’s hauled through the blue light a second later.

“Leo, what the hell was that?” Raph bites out, shaking hands gripping him by the arms as the snapper crouches to look him in the eye, searching Leo’s face for any clue as to why Raph had had to wrestle him to safety. “Why would you try to—”

The explosion cuts him off. It’s the loudest thing in the universe. Leo exists outside his body. His mind is the aftermath of a flash grenade, burnt white nothing.

It feels like watching the portal close around the Technodrome, feeling the searing heat of it on his skin before the void vacuumed even that away. He’s floating. He’s back in the dark. It’s the end of the world again.

“Wait, where’s Georgie?” Mikey says, loud over the sound of crumbling concrete and tearing sheet metal. He’s looking around the roof they’d left their eldest brother on when they noticed the mutant silverfish making a racket, their archer in overwatch position behind them as always.

Donnie notices the zipline first. The usual rich gold of his eyes is bleached with fear, neon yellow, when he turns to meet Leo’s. As always, they’re a perfect mirror of each other.

Leo doesn’t remember saying anything. He doesn’t stick around to see understanding creep into his twin’s face, or to listen to his baby brother’s questions get loud and hysterical, or to watch his big brother’s expression slacken with horror. He clenches his fist, feels the familiar shape of a hilt beneath his fingers, and falls through a portal back into the warehouse.

He has to pull the collar of his jacket up to breathe through the dust, squinting to see anything. There are still wafts of thinning gray smoke, and the disconcerting loose-gravel sound of broken concrete giving way. It’s disquieting to feel a structure made up of tons of concrete, among other things, wobble above and around him.

“Gio!” he shouts. The call reverberates and goes unanswered. A first time for everything.

Running footsteps thunder past him, too many and too heavy to belong to his brother. Leo slips around behind an upstanding pillar and watches the humans appear through the grit and gloom like spectres as they beat a hasty retreat. A few of them are supporting the weight of a few others, but a quick headcount proves more or less all of the agents are accounted for as they pile back into the armored cars outside.

Leo wouldn’t lose any sleep if a few of them had been turned into pancakes, but he’s pretty sure of his math, and—and the warehouse is still standing. If Gio had fired it at the roof, or at the ground where the agents were standing, the building would have come down matter-of-factly.

But, Leo thinks, heart remembering how to beat and doing a really messy job of it, all uneven and in his ears. But—if he’d fired it away from himself—if it went off outside—it would have been enough to scare the goons away without anyone getting hurt.

Still a risk he shouldn’t have taken, still a call that was much too close, but better than the alternative. Better than the waking nightmare Leo almost had to live in.

“GIO!” he screams, hands cupped around his mouth.

His phone is ringing in his pocket, he realizes belatedly. The ringtone is Kesha’s We R Who We R, which means it’s his twin trying to reach him. He scrambles over a collapsed metal shelving unit with tinny synthpop blaring from his hoodie and feels detached from reality. He feels like a studio audience is waiting for the cue to laugh. It doesn’t feel like real life.

Then he feels a tug again—that muted gray string in the multicolored skein of his soul, pulling him forward—leading him right to the crumpled form of his oldest brother.

The music cuts off and starts up again. The strength goes out of Leo’s legs and he folds to the floor. He cuts his knee on something sharp, and as he crawls over to Gio’s side, the cut stings every time he puts pressure on it. It shakes him out of the strange haze he’s in. His hands tremble as he rolls Gio over. The music cuts off and starts up again.

Shaking fingers wrap around Gio’s wrist and find a pulse. Leo plants his finger at the pulse point beneath Gio’s jaw just to double-check. That stubborn heart is beating loud and clear. Leo has to blink a few times, because for some reason his eyes are all wet. He runs a careful hand over the back of Gio’s head and doesn’t find anything broken or bleeding. The facts are presenting a tentative case that the world isn’t ending after all, but the fear is loud and clear and shouting over everything else.

Gio’s face is slack and still manages to look tetchy, two spots on his forehead drawn low above his eyes. Leo has only known him for the better part of a year and he can’t imagine life without him. He can’t imagine waking up from a bad dream and not having Giorgio’s steady presence beside him at the dinner table at two o’clock in the morning, tireless and patient, like he had nowhere else to be when Leo needed him.

“Stop,” Leo says thickly. He feels stupid. He knows better. It doesn’t stop him. “No. Wake up. Wake up!” His voice climbs into a shout, echoing around the empty cavernous room, “I said wake up!”

He’s not expecting it when the hand in his turns, and cold fingers close around Leo’s tightly. He’s startled into silence, staring down at the proof of life he’s holding. He doesn’t miss it when Gio’s expression twitches, brow furrowing, like he’s fighting sleep.

“Oh,” he mumbles. “You’re okay. Sorry for shouting. You’re okay.”

His ringtone goes off for the hundredth time. This time, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s voice pipes up over the music, announcing, “I’m pushing this one through, boss.”

“Nardo,” Donnie says on speakerphone.

“Tello,” Leo parrots automatically. “He’s okay,” he adds.

There’s a loaded second of silence. He doesn’t have to hear his twin’s relief spoken out loud to know it exists.

“Disappear like that again and I’ll disappear you,” the softshell bites.

“Can you get the two of you out of there, big man?” Raph says with that forced calm that has never fooled Leo once in their lives. “Can you, uh, meet us back up here now? Please?”

Leo’s knee-jerk reaction is to respond to that particular tone with reassurance. To spring to his feet and create a solution. To banish his brothers’ fear with a dumb joke or a silly scheme. But when he tries to pull himself up, his limbs wobble like jello and he gets exactly nowhere.

“I, um,” he admits, embarrassed, “I don’t think I can stand up.”

“Oh, buddy,” Raph says, his whole heart in it. “Raphie’s coming.”

“Yeah, sit tight, Lee,” Mikey’s voice rings through, force-of-nature cheerful. “I’m the master of this zipline thing now. I’ll be down in two shakes. Maybe a shake and a half.”

Leo hums, grateful to have their overlapping chatter keeping him company. It’s not the end of the world. It’s not the prison dimension. It felt like it for a second back there, but he’s sinking slowly back into his body now. His knee stings from whatever he cut it on, and his eyes are itchy from all the dust and smoke, and Gio’s grip on his hand tightens as his eldest brother claws his stubborn way back into consciousness.

They have a new bad guy to be on the lookout for, and since they don’t do anything by halves, this new bad guy is an entire evil organization. They have explosive tip arrows to dispose of, since clearly Giorgio can’t be trusted with that much firepower any more than Donatello can. Dad’s gonna have a conniption when he hears about the events of this evening—if they manage to make it past the part about the EPF agents drawing guns on them without being grounded until their thirties it’ll be a miracle.

But they’re all okay. It could have gone so differently. It could have been a lot worse.

Leo has a brand-new understanding of what that view from Staten Island had looked like for three of his brothers, and he hated every second of it. There has to be another way to do it. To keep them safe without hurting them. To be the kind of hero that comes home.

Gio’s eyes finally open, two narrow slits. Usually so quick to alertness, his gaze skates muddily over Leo’s face for a few seconds before finally focusing.

“You’re not allowed to disappear, Gigi,” Leo says quietly, feeling bruised and fragile and one harsh wind from coming completely apart. “‘Cause I’m not going anywhere without you. You made me your problem and now you gotta live with it.”

If Gio held his hand any tighter it’d probably hurt.

“You are my problem,” Gio mutters through gritted teeth. “All of you. And if anyone ever tries to tell you otherwise, I’ll blow them up next.”

“Uh, we’re gonna have to have a serious talk about that one,” Leo says. “I don’t think it’s gonna be a viable option. Ever again.”

“Hm,” Gio says, very clearly a ‘we’ll see about that.’

The laugh that bubbles out of Leo is entirely involuntary, and probably makes him look like an insane person when their brothers arrive to extract them from the structurally unsound warehouse they’re hanging out in.

But it could have been worse.

#rottmnt #hamato leonardo #hamato raphael #hamato giorgio #the archer au #my writing #prompt #tmnt fic #morrigan-cotk95

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plotthotrobin · 2 days ago

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I’ve talked about the polite neutrality between the three lords during White Clouds, but I have another point about friendships in this game to make. The Golden Deer are the only house that feel like something close to an actual friend group to me - but that’s not a complaint or me saying that GD is objectively the best house. (There being a ‘best house’ actively defeats the point - and I actually like more of the students from the BE.) It’s just neat to compare and contrast.

Despite most of them having known one another from a young age, the Blue Lions feel more like the reunion of kids who played together during their parent’s work meetings. They’re stiff and awkward around each other a lot of the time despite being more familiar. They get along because they have to for the future of their kingdom. Hell, I think at least half of their interrelationships are at least initially born out of obligation. And that isn’t to diminish the sincerity of some of the friendships that do blossom, but that energy overall never really goes away. I think it reflects the tone/culture of Faerghus and Dimitri both really well, actually, since there are a lot of themes of tradition and doing what is socially expected of you.

The Black Eagles are kind of a weird mix of strangers and friends when they start out. I read them as being more individually isolated than the other two houses. Because the unspoken obligation of the BL’s isn’t there, this group falls into almost the opposite camp. Dorothea, Ferdinand, and Petra are on good terms with almost everyone - but aren’t actually close to anybody. Linhardt and Caspar are childhood friends of sorts, but a lot of it seems like the former merely tolerating the latter (especially during WC) - and neither of them are really close to anyone else. Bernadetta is… well, Bernadetta. Edelgard and Hubert are the one exception since they are very close, but even then they are princess and retainer - not ever really friends on an equal level, even though they have a deep love and respect for one another. The house as a whole, though, doesn’t feel very tight-knit. Again, none of this is a complaint. I can’t say much when it comes to Adrestia itself, but I do think it reflects a lot of Edelgard’s individualistic mindset on a personal level as well as her overall approach in Crimson Flower.

Other than Raphael and Ignatz, none of the Golden Deer seem to know each other by much more than name at the start of the game - which means that they’re all getting to know each other at the same time. I truly think that different foundation makes them growing together feels a little more organic in terms of friendship. I can easily see this group naturally sitting around a campfire and swapping funny stories. While, again, I can’t say much in terms of Leicester’s culture or anything, I think this works extremely well considering Claude’s whole thing is wanting to tear down walls and bring people together. It’s really nice to see. (Quick disclaimer: I don’t believe Claude truly sees them as his friends until post-timeskip during VW specifically, but do think most of the others view him as a friend pretty early on.)

It’s interesting how these setups affect their respective routes. 😊

#fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem #fire emblem: three houses #few3h #fire emblem three hopes #blue lions #black eagles #golden deer #character analysis

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letmebeyourcrrsh · 10 hours ago

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the echo of his broken heart

idol!jeongin x reader

warnings: mention of hate, angst?

tell me if there is more-

genre: breakup

summary: you are dating the one and only maknae of stray kids. you two had been in a happy and healthy relationship for very long now.. until suddenly the internet was filled with pictures of you two…

You never thought you'd be here. Never thought the day would come when you'd have to walk away from him. The man who made your heart feel whole.

Jeongin was your secret—your calm in the chaos. You never wanted the world to know about your relationship. It was yours and his, tucked away in a quiet corner of the universe. The late-night phone calls, the stolen kisses when no one was looking, the soft promises to always be there for each other… That was enough. It was always enough.

But nothing stays hidden forever.

It was one photo. One innocent moment. You were both at a small café, tucked away in a quiet corner, laughing at something he had said. It was like any other day. However.. A fan saw. A fan snapped a picture, and from that moment, everything shattered.

At first, it was just curiosity.

“Is this real?” “Who are they?”

People wanted to know. But soon, the floodgates opened, and the hate followed.

They don`t deserve him. They’ll ruin his career. They’re just using him. They dont even look good next to him? ew. Bet they are only there for the money.

Jeongin tried to protect you at first, tried to deflect the hate, tried to pretend it wasn’t happening. But you saw the pain in his eyes. You heard the exhaustion in his voice when he called you late at night, asking how you were holding up.

It hurt him. And it hurt you.

The once peaceful love you had shared started to feel suffocating. You didn’t want to be a part of the world that was judging you, tearing apart your life for the mere crime of loving someone who happened to be famous. But you knew that as long as Jeongin was by your side, you could endure it.

But then came the threats.

They started slowly—comments on his posts, DMs flooding his inbox. It wasn’t just hate anymore. It was fear. The " fans " were relentless. They told him to end it with you before things got worse. They said if he cared about his career, he would choose them over you. They said you weren’t good enough for him, and that you would bring him down.

And then the worst part came.

The messages you received. The ones that told you to leave him. The ones that told you to disappear. They weren’t just cruel; they were dangerous. They said they knew where you lived. They said they knew everything about you.

Your life became a nightmare.

You wanted to fight back, to scream at them that they didn’t know you, that you weren’t some kind of villain. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t risk his safety. You couldn’t risk your own.

And in the quietest, darkest part of your heart, you knew what was coming. You knew this couldn’t go on.

It was the night after a particularly ugly comment had gone viral. Jeongin called you. His voice was low, almost robotic, as if he had rehearsed these words a thousand times in his head.

“Y/N, we need to talk.”

You already knew what he was going to say.

“I think... it’s best if we end this,” he said, his voice trembling slightly.

Your chest tightened. You had been expecting it. You had known it was coming. But hearing him say the words felt like a knife twisting in your heart.

“No,” you whispered. “Please, Jeongin. We can’t just let them win. We’ll figure this out. We can make it through.”

He was silent for a moment. And then, you heard the deep, painful exhale of a man who was already broken inside.

“I can’t do this anymore, Y/N. I can’t see you like this. You’re scared all the time. You’re hurting, and it’s because of me. You don’t deserve this. You deserve peace. You deserve a life that isn’t filled with hate and threats.”

Your tears began to fall silently, as if your heart knew the end was coming even before your mind could process it.

“Jeongin,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I don’t care about the hate. I care about you. You’re worth every bit of pain. I just want to be with you.”

He was crying now, and his voice was barely audible as he responded, “I love you so much, Y/N. I always will. But the truth is… I’m not enough to keep you safe. I can’t protect you from this. I can’t let you drown in a world that doesn’t care about you the way I do.”

Your world felt like it was crumbling. All of the love you shared, all the quiet moments, the dreams you had together—they were slipping through your fingers, and you couldn’t stop it.

“Please… don’t ask me to walk away,” you begged, your heart breaking with every word. “I can’t do this without you.”

But he was already shaking his head. “I’m so sorry. You’re everything to me, but I can’t be the reason you lose yourself.”

There was no more fight in him. No more hope in his eyes. Just sorrow. Just resignation.

And so, you did what you had to do. You said goodbye. The words felt empty as they left your lips. They were hollow, unable to fill the space between you two, because the truth was, neither of you wanted this. Neither of you wanted to let go.

“I’ll never forget you,” he whispered, his voice broken. “I promise.”

You wanted to say the same, but it was too much. The tears clouded your vision as you turned away, walking out of his life with the weight of everything you couldn’t change.

And as you walked away, all you could hear was the echo of his broken heart, calling your name in the distance.

#jeongin #i.n stray kids #skz jeongin #i.n #stray kids #k pop #skz #i.n x reader #jeongin x reader #jeongin x you #jeongin x y/n #jeongin fanfic #breakup #jeongin angst #skz angst #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x you #skz x you

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beneathsilverstars · 2 days ago

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I think maybe they’re acting odd enough in Dormont that when Isabeau leaves the favor tree and goes up to the cliff, he stays closer to the town side — looking at Mirabelle and the path to the favor tree — as he considers whether he should talk to anyone else about it, or ask Siffrin if they’re okay once they’re back from the favor tree, or something. And honestly he probably wouldn’t have ended up doing any of those things! But it means he is close enough to see when Siffrin is about to slip on the banana peel, whereas Siffrin didn’t even notice him there, because why would they look for any changes? Nothing ever changes unless they change it by force.

So Siffrin casually strolls towards the peel, and Isabeau shouts, "Woah, Sif, look out—!" and manages to catch him right as his legs go out from under him. Which, wow! That was scary! Good thing he was there, that could’ve been awful, what with the cliff right there and everything!

So now Siffrin can’t use the banana peel; Isabeau threw it away. And they can’t will themself to just jump off the cliff without it. So they resign themself to getting to the house the slow way, but, stars, they do not feel like sitting around Dormont right now. And it wasn’t even the first floor that they needed to go to anyway, so they’d be doing the whole entire night in Dormont, just to end the loop asap anyway! So. Eventually they give up and go for the dagger. But they’ve never used the dagger in Dormont before, and once they decide to use it they don’t waste a lot of time planning, so. They don’t do a good enough job making sure no one is nearby.

And it turns out Odile was right around the corner behind him, and she rounds it just in time to see him raise the knife. She casts slow on him and rushes forward and manages to yank his arm back before he can cut unsalvageably deep, then shouts for help. She sends the nearest villager to get Mirabelle, who hasn’t used any craft yet today, so she’s able to pour everything she has into healing him. Meanwhile Odile goes to get Isabeau and make sure Bonnie stays away until the situation isn’t so gory.

Eventually Mirabelle has Siffrin all healed and cleaned up and situated at the clocktower, and Bonnie is retrieved to start making dinner a little early. And now Odile and Isabeau and Mirabelle have allll evening to talk to Siffrin and try and figure out what’s wrong and how to help. Though Siffrin, of course, is being very unhelpful. They're desperately looking forward to their next chance to loop, and worried they won’t get one, and spiraling about upsetting everyone, but refusing to tell them about the time loops because it doesn’t matter, Siffrin doesn’t want to upset them more, they just! need! a way to loop!!

And of course he doesn’t say any of that out loud. But it’s not hard for the others to pick up that Siffrin wishes they hadn’t stopped him and is looking for a chance to escape, so of course they don't give him the chance. They ask if anything happened during/before his nap, and he insists no, nothing happened, he's fine. They suggest he doesn’t have to — and in fact, probably shouldn’t — go to the house tomorrow, but that really upsets him, because he wants to help them, he doesn’t want them to get hurt without him!! But they don’t want him to get hurt either.

But eventually they’re like, okay, even if we did give you your dagger back tomorrow so you can fight with us in the house, because we trust that you wouldn’t put us in danger, and we’ll keep a close eye on you — what next? We can’t just! Leave you! I mean we can't stop you from leaving but we want to help if you’ll let us!!!

And Mirabelle starts saying, "Maybe you could stay in the Dormont house with me, when it's back to normal? Until you're feeling better? I know everyone here, I could help you find a counselor if you'd be okay with that!" And Odile adds, "Or if you have somewhere to be I could accompany you; I didn’t have any particular plans on where to go next, so I might as well go the same direction as you." And of course Isabeau chimes in, "I really don’t need to get back to Jouvente any time soon — I quit my job, after all. I can stay with you as long as you need, as long as you want." And they ask Siffrin what their plans were, where they’re headed, and. Siffrin can’t come up with an answer that’s specific enough to be believable, not when they’re currently trying to plan specifics. Playing it off with a joke won't work, not this time. He tries to reassure them that they don’t need to change their plans for him, he’ll be fine, he knows they have their own things to do, and he’ll be fine on his own—

But Isabeau says, "You gotta understand why I don’t really believe that right now, Sif. You don’t have to let us stay with you if you don't want, but please don’t lie to us, you're obviously not fine. We want to help, if there’s anything we can do." And Mirabelle realizes she knows something relevant, so she says, "You told me... You told me a couple weeks ago that— this journey was the happiest you’ve ever been." And in the horrible quiet, Odile reaches the inevitable conclusion: "That journey will be over tomorrow, one way or another, and you don't have anything else to keep going for."

And Siffrin — they've been internally freaking out and spiraling this whole time, right? But it was never quite enough to automatically loop back, because— every mistake they made was immediately followed by clear assistance and compassion. Even when they first cut their throat, the moment that they realized they'd been caught was also the moment Odile touched them and then held them, reassured them with uncharacteristic desperation between shouts for help as she used her own coat to staunch the blood.

And now, no matter how horribly guilty and sick he feels that he's forcing his family to stay with him because they mistakenly think he's suicidal, this is them staying with him. It is a way forward.

So. The truth is out. They know that Siffrin was dreading the end of the quest because he had nowhere and nothing and no one to return to. They're wrong that he was about to kill himself over it, technically, except aren't they right about that too? No one knows it, but that was the reason for the loops, and he sure did kill himself far too easily in them.

The others talk about how they enjoyed the journey together, too, and... none of them wanted to part, either, they just hadn't brought it up yet. Odile says, "If I'd just said something sooner... I couldn't have known this would result, and yet... I should've known something was wrong. I'm so sorry I let you feel so alone and hopeless." Isabeau breaks the sorrowful quiet to say, determined, "We'll just have to make it up to you now. Bonnie will need to get back to their sister, right? What if we all accompany them to Bambouche?" And Mirabelle says, "Yes! That would be wonderful! And, you know, I was thinking of going on a pilgrimage soon — Siffrin, would you want to come with me, after we drop Bonnie off?" And of course Isabeau and Odile chime in that they'd love to go too. And, if they're all staying together, Bonnie might be really disappointed to stay behind in Bambouche, but maybe they could ask their sister if the two of them would like to travel for a bit as well...?

And Siffrin just starts sobbing. After a moment Mirabelle can't stand it, she has to at least offer, "Would you like a hug..? No pressure! But if you want one!" She holds her arms out a little in offer, and Siffrin can't stop themself from falling into them, and soon enough even Odile is patting Siffrin's back while Mirabelle and Isabeau hold them. After a bit, they hear Bonnie from outside the door, sullen: "I know you said they need space because they got hurt. But. You're all in there. And dinner is ready..?" And they tell Bonnie to come in, and Bonnie was mad at Siffrin for getting hurt again, but it turns into shock because, "What the crab, since when are we allowed to hug Frin??" And Isabeau says, "Since now, I guess?" And Bonnie hesitates for a moment, but relief that Siffrin is upright wins out, and even as they launch into a lecture they launch themself into the hug and nearly knock everyone over.

And then they're all laughing, and crying, and telling Bonnie about their travel plans. And then Bonnie brings in dinner, and Siffrin is ready to make himself eat it, but his poker face is gone right now and it's obvious he has no appetite for it — even aside from the fact that it's the same clocktower dinner that he's eaten dozens of times in a row, there's the whole recently-healed neck injury thing — and Bonnie's like, "Well, duh, if you're hurt or sick or whatever you need like, plain rice! And soup! And crackers! And lots of water!!" And they rush off to get a little of the extra rice and whip up a quick simple soup. And it's so nice to eat something new after months of the same stuff that Siffrin starts crying again, so of course they all have to hug him again. And eventually he falls asleep like that, surrounded by his family.

... And then they have to go through the house again the next day.

And, actually, at this point Siffrin is so scared of losing all of this. It's what he deserves, after guilting everyone into staying with him — after making Odile see such a horrible sight, making Mirabelle exhaust herself healing them, making Isabeau carry them back to the clocktower, making Bonnie cook them a whole separate meal — but still, he doesn't want to lose it. And he knows that doesn't actually matter, he'll loop again like he always does; if the perfect family loop didn't work, why would this failed loop change anything, this disaster where he didn't help anyone and instead they all helped him? But he wants to stay with them so bad. Can't he pretend, just a little longer, that there's any chance of escaping? Can't he force himself through the entire house again, just in case? Can't he act like this miraculous plan to travel together is possible? Can't he hope, one last time?

At the very least, they can linger. Siffrin can feel the dread building, they can't imagine how they're going to bear waking up in that meadow again, but they can put it off for as long as possible. They take their time to check every item. They try not to zone out, and sometimes they accidentally drift for a bit, but sometimes they listen and they do catch something new, bits of travel planning and bits of worry. They don't even use their strongest attacks unless the battle is looking dicey. They just make their way through the house as slowly as they can without raising suspicion.

Siffrin is terrified the entire time; he tries to hide it but he's so so tired, and he's so tired of hiding it, too. Everyone tries to reassure him, but it's to little success; and honestly, that's fair enough, with the King ahead! But then they beat the king and Siffrin is more scared, not less? And he's starting to feel sick and dizzy, too — the wish's conditions have been fulfilled. Its craft is dissipating, and without that energy the craft exhaustion is starting to hit.

But everyone is determined to help. They remind him that they've promised to keep traveling together, and it sets him off crying because he wants it so bad and he's so scared, so they all hug one more time before heading to Euphrasie. And Siffrin reminds himself, just one more time. He just has to hold onto hope this one, last time. Just in case.

They talk to Euphrasie, Siffrin shaking, one arm around Isabeau and other hand in Bonnie's, Odile right next to them, Mirabelle right ahead. When it's their turn, Siffrin takes a deep breath in and out and steps forward, and Euphrasie starts to talk and then—

Stops to ask if they're alright.

And she says something else to him, but he can barely hear it, because it's something different. It's something different. And then Isabeau is guiding him to sit down and reminding him to breathe, and Euphrasie is discussing something with Mirabelle, concerned, and it's all different.

It's different.

And it stays different for the rest of the day, and they wake up the next day to Bonnie shouting that they all need to pack so they can leave for Bambouche. Together.

:( au where siffrin tries to end a loop early but someone sees in time to stop/heal him. and they’re desperately trying to figure out why he did that and convince him life is worth living, and in that discussion someone suggests traveling together after the loops. and then ofc they’re keeping a very close eye on him after that, so, he doesn’t get another chance to reset. then they beat the king! so! conditions met! that’s the last loop! the one where they all saw siffrin try to kill themself! the one where the party surely only agreed to stay with them out of guilty obligation. but he’s selfish so of course he won’t do the right thing and refuse to go along with it. :( :( :(

#well that's not what i meant to do with my afternoon but that's fine i guess. i did deserve a treat #isat #siffrin #the whole family #thoughts #thoughts about siffrin #yknow what i think this counts as #silverstarsfic #isat spoilers #suicide mention #suicide #dagger ending au

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meazalykov · 1 day ago

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eyes on the right

lynn wilms x reader series

last chapter - next chapter

chapter three

being back in your home country feels like a deep breath after a long stretch of holding it in.

there’s something comforting about seeing familiar faces, hearing familiar voices, and knowing that, for a few days, you can just be yourself without any pressure.

no wolfsburg, no past club drama with arsenal, no jonas.

just you and your national teammates.

training had been good today…light drills, laughs with the girls, and anticipation for the upcoming friendlies against south korea and china. it felt refreshing to be part of a team where the chemistry clicked so naturally.

no one was trying to prove themselves too hard since they’re already here. the olympics ended already. everyone just wanted to play.

after training, you find a quiet spot on the grass, letting the sun soak into your skin as it edges toward golden hour. you sit with your knees up, teeth gently nibbling on the plastic of your water bottle, scrolling through tiktok absentmindedly.

the warmth of the evening settles around you, soft and calming.

“mind if i join?”

you look up to see emily standing above you, her cheeks pink from exertion. you grin and pat the grass beside you.

“of course not.”

emily plops down with a groan, stretching her legs out in front of her.

“how was training?”

you lock your phone and place it on the grass beside you.

“it was fine, i believe. you?”

she leans her head on your shoulder with a dramatic sigh.

“i’m tired, honestly.”

you chuckle, leaning your head lightly against hers.

“same.”

the moment is quiet and peaceful, the kind of moment you don’t realize you need until you’re in it. then, your phone buzzes on the grass, the screen lighting up with an incoming call.

the name makes your stomach flutter.

“vivianne?” emily asks, glancing at your phone.

you nod, quickly swiping to answer.

when the call connects, it’s not vivianne’s face filling the screen.

it’s lynn.

“hi!” you blurt out, a little too enthusiastically. the blush that creeps up your cheeks is instant, and you hope the phone’s camera isn’t clear enough to catch it.

lynn grins at you, leaning slightly into the frame.

“viv’s here too, don’t worry,” she says, and sure enough, vivianne’s face appears next to hers, her expression amused.

“i told her to call you,” vivianne says, smirking.

“she couldn’t wait to talk to you, though.”

lynn playfully nudges vivianne.

“don’t listen to her. she’s making things up.”

you laugh, the sound light and genuine.

“so why do you have her phone? why am i talking to you, lynn?”

“because i’m better company,” lynn teases, her grin widening.

vivianne rolls her eyes.

“don’t let her fool you. she’s been talking about you being at wolfsburg since we got here.”

your face heats up again, and you try to play it cool.

“well, i’m flattered,” you say, raising an eyebrow at lynn.

“you should be,” lynn says with a wink, her voice dropping into a tone that makes your stomach do a little flip.

the three of you chat for a few minutes, catching up on your respective breaks and any other life stuff. vivianne and lynn tease you about being so far away, and you tease them back about how much they seem to miss you.

“i do miss you,” lynn says suddenly, her voice softer now.

“can’t wait to have you back in wolfsburg.”

“jeez, i’ve been gone for two days so far.. you are not in wolfsburg either.” you giggle.

“yeah, but we are not on the same team right now.”

“true, at least i’ll see you on the 27th!” you say.

it's currently the 20th.

the sincerity in her words catches you off guard, and for a moment, you forget how to respond. finally, you manage to say,

“i can’t wait to be back either.”

there’s a pause, and then lynn adds, “you better be ready to train hard. i’m not going easy on you when we are back.”

you smirk, finding your confidence again.

“oh, don’t worry. i’ll make sure you can keep up with me.”

vivianne groans dramatically in the background.

“oh, great. now you’re both insufferable.”

you all laugh, and eventually, the call comes to an end. as you hang up, your cheeks still feel warm, and you realize you’ve been smiling the whole time.

“well, that was cute,” emily says, breaking the silence.

you blink, looking over at her.

“what?”

“you and lynn,” she says, smirking.

“it’s nice to see you’ve finally gotten over your crush on viv.”

you frown, though your stomach twists with nerves.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

emily raises an eyebrow.

“oh, come on. it was so obvious back at arsenal. you couldn’t even look at vivianne without turning red.”

“i—” you start to protest, but she cuts you off.

“and now? your eyes were glued to lynn. like, completely on the right side of the screen the whole time.”

you bite your lip, trying to push away the fluttering feeling in your chest.

“i was not—”

“you so were,” emily interrupts, grinning.

“and honestly? i think it’s a good thing. at least you actually have a chance with lynn.”

you scoff, shaking your head.

“she’s not interested in me like that.”

emily tilts her head.

“really? because it seemed pretty clear she was flirting with you.”

“she was not,” you insist, though your voice lacks conviction.

emily gives you a pointed look.

“oh, yes she was. and you were flirting back.”

you let out a laugh, trying to brush it off.

“you’re ridiculous.”

“no, i’m right,” she says firmly.

“and i think you should stop overthinking it and let yourself like her.”

next part here

#lynn wilms #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #oranjeleeuwinnen #vfl wolfsburg women #vivianne miedema #emily fox

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spadeprincesss · 2 days ago

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you mentioned Blue holding his ground despite being heavily wounded until help arrived, and I just imagining a wonderfully whumpy scene where as the others finally get there, Blue's strength gives out and he passes out. He wakes up possibly a day+ later in the infirmary surrounded by the others, all relieved that he's okay.

this is very spot on to what happens! I wanted to share the scene without giving anything away first but this moment is very important to all their relationships and i like what i’ve come up with so i’ll take this ask to share a bit!

It’s a harsh fight where all five of them are separated:

• Red is lost first and Vio asks Shadow to look for him so he won’t be alone. Shadow doesn’t want to leave Vio but he won’t leave Red alone so he goes and helps him.

• Green and Blue get separated from Vio and the two of them end up surrounded, with Green taking a blow for Blue and ending up injured, so Blue stands his ground and doesn’t let anything else get close.

• What feels like hours passes by and Vio finds them, he’s scarred from using dark magic, his bow having been broken when they were separated. And when Blue sees Vio, someone he can actually trust, its like his body gives in and all his strength leaves him.

• That freaks Vio out, because both Green and Blue are bleeding out and he is not a healer! However he is skilled at dark magic, its easy for him to mold it, so when he kneels beside the two of them he gets to work.

• Long explanation short Vio uses dark magic to make temporary tissue for the parts that are bleeding out (temporary arteries that may have been broken, organs that may have been torn, etc.) and he keeps that up until help arrives, which drains him a lot!

• When Red and Shadow find the three of them Vio’s body is full of dark magic scarring, and Green and Blue are breathing but they’re pale and clearly in pain.

• It leaves them both shaken, with Red managing to get the rest of the knights there to help him administer first aid and Shadow having to pull a barely conscious Vio back from treating them, hiding his appearance from the knights to keep his secret.

• Once back at the castle it takes a day or two for Blue and Green to regain consciousness, which makes Red burst into tears and hug them tight enough to hurt, and Shadow is there too saying he’s glad they pulled through, they even had him worried they wouldn’t make it.

• They talk for a while until Blue remembers seeing Vio before he passed out, and he asks where the purple hero is. Red immediately begins to cry again, which makes Green’s and Blue’s hearts drop, but Shadow lightly smacks Red and says he’s fine– sorta, being looked over by Zelda and the maidens and weak, but he’ll live.

That’s it for the whump itself bUt the angst isn’t over because the days following this event are full of self loathing, deep talks, feelings being shared, and eventually comfort! I want to write this scene and go into detail about Blue’s fight, Red’s feelings and Vio’s recovery so look forward to it!!

#four swords #blue link #green link #vio link #shadow link #red link #asks #decorated heroes au #sorry for the long reply #im very excited to share this part of the story #vidow

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patchouii · 12 hours ago

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Some Hannibal & Will headcanons I have, just for fun:

. Hannibal has a sweet tooth. Usually he doesn’t allow himself to indulge in it, but every so often he’ll have a designated “cheat day” and make pastries and sweets. All of which somehow manage to utilize the versatility of his favorite secret ingredient, just for the wickedly ironic juxtaposition of it.

. Part of the reason Will likes fishing is because it’s an activity in a quiet, meditative environment that makes it easier for him to use his empathy to visualize the world around him as he wishes, sort of how he does with crime scenes. He started doing it while fishing with his dad, and he’d joke that Will would “go all glassy-eyed like the fish”.

. Will can use the excess of mirror neurons that give him his unique “empathy” abilities to mimic bird calls and even people’s voices really well, and he enjoys doing so. Sometimes he’ll say something stupid with Hannibal’s voice just to annoy him. Usually it’s something with a bad cannibal pun in it.

. Despite his criticisms of Will’s old aftershave, the reminder of their beginnings and how far they’ve come is too strong for Hannibal to resist. A bottle of it appears in the bathroom of wherever they’re staying for Will to use— it’s nostalgic, and it also lets him know where Will is if they’re separated in a crowd.

. Hannibal has an old scar where the back of his neck joins his shoulders. It has a faint chain-link pattern to it from abraded skin freezing to a metal chain and being pulled off thanks to the horrors of one fateful winter. Will never asks about flaying it off like he did with the Verger brand— he knows the answer.

. Will develops a phobia of deep water after the fall, his decision to take them over due to Dolarhyde’s camera still running for Jack to find and the adrenaline-and-euphoria l’appel du vide of the moment haunting him with nightmares. He refuses to let it rule him, swimming laps in their pool at night. Hannibal often joins him.

. Sometimes, instead of going right to sleep, reading, or having some fun before bed, they’ll lay on their backs side-by-side with their hands laced and delve into their minds together. Hannibal will close his eyes and enter his memory palace, Will often keeps his eyes open and unseeing and visualizes with his empathy.

. The actual first time Will kisses Hannibal is when he’s on Chiyoh’s boat on the Atlantic. He’s high on pain meds and roiling with emotion over Hannibal’s unconscious form beside him. It’s just a soft, weak brush of lips. In his feverish state, he hopes that Hannibal’s infection will spread to him so that he can’t leave him behind if he dies of it.

. The first kiss they really count happens when they’re both settled in Cuba, sitting on the porch of the little beach house Hannibal secured for them and watching the sunset, drinking iced hibiscus tea. Will only confesses much later that the red droplets on Hannibal’s lips reminded him of blood and he just leaned right in unconsciously.

. Even though they have to be careful with their kills post-fall, Hannibal makes sure to allow for one special kill every year. He sets up a tableau of a skinned man in the shape of a heart with flowers stabbed through the skin in a remote location and lets Will figure out how to find it by Valentine’s Day.

. Will lets Hannibal teach him how to do serial killing. It ends up sating his curiosity about the theories he’d had on the Ripper as well as further sating his dark urges, growing those appetites. The fact that Hannibal has his victims awake on the table sometimes is a point of contention, Will feels bad that the only part of him that feels bad is the part that mirrors the victims if he isn’t careful.

. Between Will’s empathy picking up on all the little details and emotional indicators and being able to copy them back and Hannibal’s analytical skills and expertise with conveying the image he wants through tone and body language alone, they can communicate wordlessly. They sometimes default to this, whether intentionally or not. It’s a little unnerving to watch.

. Will has a not-so-slight caffeine addiction after many years of drinking coffee to get out the door early from college to his cop years to Jack calling at ungodly hours. He won’t drink anything but instant microwave Folgers. Hannibal has tried to replace the coffee in the container but Will catches it every time.

#hannigram #nbc hannibal #hannibal headcanons #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannibal nbc #hannibal textposts #hannibal meta

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mirisss · 21 hours ago

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Chapter 12

Wordcount ≈ 4.2k

Warnings: Some talking of anxiety but mostly this is a fluffy chapter,

Taglist: @ayoo-bangtan, @lose-lose07, @kingcarrot-thecarrotking, @starjane312, @reighlee-greaves, @hi-39024, @queenmea604, @septicrebel, @justayoungandwisefangirl @imasimplol, @k-p0p-4ever, @detectivedoodle, @hehe-24-hehe, @jinnie-ret, @0325tiny, @borahae-reads, @shycreationdreamland, @kiaralynn3838, @blondechannie, @theydy-madamonsieur, @boi-bi-ahaha, @riri321, @3rachasninja, @kkamismom12, @yuki-sama6, @fun-fanfics, @turtledove824, @skybluelixie, @ellisdefrog, @odetteskies, @xxeiraxx, @aalexyuuuhm,

Please reblog!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11,

Jeongin joined Seungmin in the kitchen, helping with the final pieces of the clean up, before he went to the living room, joining the hug-pile on the couch and letting himself fall asleep as well. Perhaps, the afternoon, will be kinder on all of them.

Third person POV

Seungmin stayed awake, looking over his loved ones during their nap, he checked in on Jisung and the others as well, most of them were asleep, though Chan was half awake as he recently woke up from his nap. “How’s everyone else doing?” Chan whispered, “They’re asleep on the couch, Innie is there too, I prepared some tea for everyone, I was thinking of going out and getting some cookies as well, Felix is asleep so he can’t bake any and we don’t have any left at home,” “Sounds good, Min, be careful,”

And so, Seungmin left to buy the group some cookies, a much-needed sweet treat after the morning they had, hoping it would cheer both Jisung and (Y/n) up. Chan checked Jisung’s temperature, happy to see it was going down, he went out to the living room, smiling as he found the pile of his loved ones on the couch. He carefully woke Minho up, the dancer mumbled a curse at him, but once he opened his eyes and found Chan in front of him, he stopped complaining and did his best to leave the couch without waking anyone else up.

The two eldest made their way into the kitchen, Minho saw the preparations for tea, the cups, the bag of tea, everything was prepped and ready. “Seungmin’s out to buy some cookies, he also prepared tea before he left, I woke you up because I wanted to talk about what happened, I never thought this could affect Ji so much, perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to take her in or?” Chan looked down at the kitchen counter, he was tired, sad, and worried. He felt responsible as the oldest and the leader, should he have been thinking differently about this whole thing?

“I don’t think it was a mistake, she completes us, we all love her and she loves us, we’re family now. Everyone has baggage and some of us are more open to sharing it with each other, Jisung cares a lot, and so he took on too much of her anxiety and past on himself, he’s an empath, we all should have been more careful but none of us regret saying yes to adopting her, this isn’t your fault, it’s no one’s fault,”

Minho put his hand on Chan’s shoulder, trying to reassure him that everything would be okay. “Thank you, Minho,” Minho smiled, “Let’s go wake everyone up so that everyone’s awake when Seungmin gets back,”

Minho went into Jisung’s room to wake Jisung, Changbin, and Felix up, while Chan went to the living room to wake (Y/n), Hyunjin, and I.N up. “Hey, guys, time to wake up,” Chan said as he sat down beside them on the couch, Hyunjin was the first to wake up, followed closely by Jeongin, and finally, (Y/n) after some gentle shakes to wake her up from her deep slumber. “Hmm, what’s going on?” (Y/n) mumbled lowly, her voice husky from sleep, “It’s time to wake up, we can’t sleep through the entire day,” Chan said, assuring smile on his face as (Y/n)’s eyes searched for any anger or emotions alike it in his eyes.

Meanwhile, Minho went into Jisung’s room, finding Changbin already rubbing his eyes as he looked up at Minho tiredly from the floor. “Hey, how are you?” Minho asked as he went over to Felix, to wake him up. “Tired and my neck hurts a little, I fell asleep with my neck bent awkwardly,” Changbin answered as he stretched his neck from left to right to try and straighten it out. “That’s why we don’t sleep on the floor,” Minho said teasingly. “Felix, Lixie, wake up,” When saying his name didn’t work, Minho began lightly tickling Felix who jumped awake at the feeling, swatting at Minho’s hands.

“Sorry, but nap time is over,” Minho said as he walked over to Jisung, who was still sleeping soundly. Minho was relieved to see that Jisung seemed to have calmed down, anxiety is no joke, it can be detrimental, so he was happy that they all had each other, they weren’t alone and they would never be alone again. The same was true for (Y/n), she had been alone for most of her life but now that she had them, she would never live in the shadows again.

“Ji, time to wake up,” Minho sat down on the edge of the bed beside Jisung, after no luck with trying to wake him up by just saying his name, Minho opted for gently (and then not so gently) shaking Jisung until he woke up. “Uh? What?” Jisung woke up with a jolt after Minho shook him, “Sorry, Ji, but you needed to wake up, Seungmin’s gonna be back with cookies soon,” Jisung instantly perked up at the mention of cookies. “Oh, cookies, that sounds nice, how’s (Y/n)?” Minho smiled at Jisung’s concern for the hybrid. “She’s fine, just tired, like you, we’ve all been tired lately from working so hard, so we deserved a day off,”

Jisung smiled, relief washed over his face, “That’s good, then,” “Now come on, let’s go join the others in the living room,” Minho got off the bed and waited for Jisung to follow, which he quickly did, Jisung stretched his back and his arms a little before the two walked to the living room just in time for the front door to open, and Seungmin came back home.

Minho went to help Seungmin bring the bags to the kitchen, while Jisung walked into the living room, happy to find (Y/n) sitting there smiling as she talked with Jeongin and Hyunjin. “Hey Ji, how are you feeling?” Chan asked as soon as he saw Han standing in the doorway to the living room. Jisung walked over and sat down beside Chan, “Better, I’m still tired and a bit hungry I think, but otherwise, I’m good now, I’m sorry that I caused some inconvenience,” “Hey, Han, don’t even apologize for your mental health, I much rather make sure we have a day off at home to handle everything and make sure everyone’s okay, even if that can be inconvenient than us going to the company and having no time to take care of ourselves,” Chan put one of his hands on Jisung’s cheek, to show his sincerity.

(Y/n) looked over from her spot on the couch, relief and happiness filling her as she saw that Jisung looked okay, she tried to see with her other senses if he truly was okay, her hearing heard his heart beating soundly in a calm and normal matter, her nose told her he was still a bit tired and stressed but way less than earlier in the day. The bunny took in a big breath, happy to see that her family was safe and sound. She stood up and walked over to Jisung and Chan, sitting down on the other side of Jisung, without a word, she embraced Jisung in a tight hug, her muscles once again relaxing as she inhaled his sweet and warm scent, the familiar scent of home.

“Hey, bunny, I’m sorry if I scared you earlier.” “I’m just happy that you’re okay.” (Y/n) stayed there, embracing Jisung for a few minutes before Sengmin and Minho came into the living room with tea, cookies, and a few sandwiches. It wasn’t until then that (Y/n) let go because finally, everyone was there, everyone was okay.

The rest of the evening, the group stayed close together, cuddling, watching movies and just enjoying one another’s company. Before they knew it, it was time for bed. Because tomorrow they need to go back to the company, and they need all the rest they can get.

That night, (Y/n) would sleep in Hyunjin’s room, she was excited about it because she had spent some time in there with him previously when they were painting. She wished she could paint some more with him, not tonight but hopefully soon. Even though they had taken a long nap during the day, (Y/n) was exhausted now so she was sure she would fall asleep quickly. Once dressed in her pajamas, she walked over to Hyunjin’s room, it was empty because he was still getting ready for bed. (Y/n) walked around and looked at the paintings he had out in the room, the bunny was in awe at all the art, she knew he was talented but she was still surprised.

After looking around for a little, she laid down on her bed, getting cozy in the sheets, she had to fight the sleep away so that she could stay awake and say good night to Hyunjin. Hyunjin finally walked into his room, ready to sleep, he found (Y/n) blinking rapidly, trying so hard to stay awake, he walked over and gently scratched behind one of her ears, he placed a kiss on her forehead. “Good night, Bunny, sweet dreams,” “Night, Jinnie,” The words were mumbled but Hyunjin understood what she meant, and only seconds later, small snores could be heard from the bunny as she fell into a peaceful slumber.

The next morning, the alarms rang early, causing all residents of the SKZ dorm to groan as they reluctantly woke up. “Morning, (Y/n), did you sleep well?” (Y/n) sat up in her bed and rubbed her eyes as she yawned. “Mm, I did, what about you?” Hyunjin too sat up, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed. “I slept very well,” (Y/n) smiled at the response as she once again yawned and tried to find some energy to get through the day. Hyunjin thought she was so cute at that moment, he just wanted to wrap her up and put her in his pocket.

“Come on, let’s get ready, did you shower last night or do you want to shower now?” “I’ll shower now because I was too tired last night,” “Okay, great, go get some clothes for the day and jump in the shower, I’ll pack some things for today, we have 1 and a half hours until the driver is here, so take your time,” Hyunjin took out a bag and walked out of the room while (Y/n) got up and walked over to Jeongin’s room to get some clothes and once she had a pile in her hands she went to one of the bathrooms and took a shower.

It wasn’t until the water was running through her hair and down her body that she realized, just how comfortable she was now. She used to be terrified of water, but not once since Minho found her, has she feared it, that’s how comfortable she is around the boys. The baths she has taken, the showers, have all been calming and nice, it has been nothing to fear. The realization made her smile, these boys are her home and they had helped her so much already in their short time together, she never wanted to leave them, she wanted to get closer to them.

She finished her shower, got dressed, and headed out to meet the others. Most of them were dressed and ready to go, once again they would eat breakfast at the company, (Y/n) thought about the first time they ate the company and how crowded it could be but also how nice it was to meet people who treated her fairly, like an equal.

“Okay, everyone we still about 30 minutes until the car is here, so anyone not ready should hurry up. Anyone hungry? Make a smoothie or a sandwhich because we won’t be eating breakfast for a few hours,” Chan listed of his morning speech, and at the mention of a smoothie, (Y/n) couldn’t help but want one. They are just too delicious.

“Here, (Y/n),” Changbin put a smoothie down in front of her, she was shocked, she hadn’t asked for one. “Why?” “I figured you’d want one, if you don’t just give it to someone else,” “No, I really do want it, I just didn’t think you would have prepared one already, thank you, Binnie,” Changbin smiled and put his hand on her head, “Of course, anything for you bunny,”

(Y/n) didn’t wait a second longer until she began sipping on her smoothie, it was just as good as the others she had tasted. Sometimes she wondered if this was all a dream, or maybe something like heaven, just a few months ago she couldn’t imagine life could be this good, but now, here she was.

Chan looked over at (Y/n), she sensed his stare immediately and met his gaze, he looked nervous. “Could I talk with you, alone?” (Y/n), became a bit worried, what could this be about? But she nodded and took her smoothie with her to leave the kitchen and talk with the leader.

Chan sat down on the couch and (Y/n) sat down beside him, still worried about what this talk could be about. “It’s nothing serious, sorry if I made it seem that way, it’s just a little awkward for me to talk about so I didn’t know how to bring it up, the vet mentioned earlier that as you begin to become more healthy, your heats could be triggered, and he messaged me yesterday about having a check in to see how everything seems, and to ask if you want to take surpressants or have your heats come naturally,” Chan’s entire face became red as he continued speaking, (Y/n) was surprised at how cute he looked, he tried to be supportive even though he was embarrassed.

Not to say that (Y/n) wasn’t embarrassed as well, because she was, a lot. But she was relieved, her anxious mind instantly went to thoughts of being kicked out after the previous days events, but she argued with herself, she should know better, these boys aren’t like the other humans she has met.

“Oh, um, well, I don’t really know, a lot of other hybrids took surpressants at my previous, um, place-” Chan reached out and held on her trembling hands, to show that he was there, she was safe. “- I won’t call it home, because it wasn’t one, but they seemed to like taking them, but I don’t know anything about heats or surpressants so maybe it’s best if the vet has an opinion on this,” Chan smiled, to reassure her that they wouldn’t do anything that she wasn’t comfortable with. “Yeah, that’s probably the smartest move here, I’ll talk with the vet sometime today and book an appointment, this time we have to go the office though, he can’t do the check ups here,”

Even though, (Y/n) was a bit scared of going to a vet’s office, it was new and scary, she felt safe because she wouldn’t be going alone, she would have at least one of the boys with her. The past is in the past, she was living a different life now, she had met this vet before and he seemed nice, so it would be fine. “That’s okay, as long as someone comes with me,” Chan smiled, he noticed how her small bunny tail was twitching, he knew she was anxious but he was proud to see that she tried her best to be brave about it. “Of course, anyone in particular you want to come with?”

(Y/n) took a second to think about it as she took a sip of her, almost empty, smoothie, “You, I want you to be there with me,” Chan felt happiness surge through his body, he knew he was a safe space for the bunny but he had thought she would have asked for Minho, Felix or Jeongin, he didn’t expect her to ask for him. “Then I’ll come with you, now, let’s go down, the car should be here any minute,”

“Chan,” “Yes?” “Thank you,” “For what?” “Everything,” Chan almost teared up as his eyes once again met the hybrid’s, they were shining with life and happiness, such a stark contrast from how dull they had been when Minho had found her, how scared she used to be to just speak around them, and now, here she was, speaking freely and smiling. “No need to thank us, darling,” (Y/n) blushed at the nickname, yet she yearned to hear it again.

~ Time Skip ~

It was lunch time for Stray Kids, (Y/n) had been sitting in the dance studio, watching the group dance from morning until now, she was glad she drank that smoothie in the morning because they had all been so focused on perfecting the last parts of the dance that they forgot to eat breakfast, but finally it was time for lunch.

“Ahh, I’m so hungry, I want to eat like a horse or something,” Han exclaimed loudly as the group was walking toward the cafeteria. “Anything in particular that you want to eat today, (Y/n)?” Seungmin asked as he walked beside the bunny at the back of the group. “I don’t know, maybe a soup or stew, it sounds good because it’s cold outside,” “Oh, yeah, a nice stew does sound really nice, they should have something like that,” “Do you think it will be full like last time?” “Probably, it’s unfortunate that they don’t switch the lunch times for everyone around so that not everyone had lunch at the same time,” “Yeah, but it was kind of nice sitting with just you, last time” Seungmin smiled, feeling warm inside from the bunny’s cute confession. “I’m glad to hear that,”

Chan’s phone suddenly rang and so he stayed behind to take the call while the other eight went to the cafeteria. As usual it was packed with people. (Y/n) found two people that were familiar to her just in front of them in the line to order food. It was two of the girls from Itzy, though she wasn’t too sure which ones they were. As the girls heard the familiar voices behind them, they turned around to say hello.

“Hi, guys, hey (Y/n),” “Hey, girls, how are you?” Felix asked, they continued their conversation with each other as the line slowly moved forward. (Y/n) tried to remember the names of these two girls but she drew a blank and she didn’t want to seem rude and ask them. “Lia, Chaeryong, nice to see you two, it’s been a while,” Suddenly Chan came up behind her and said the girls’ names, (Y/n) felt her anxiety wash away. “We’re good, how are you (Y/n)? Are the boys taking care of you?” “I’m good, and yeah, they are,” “That’s good to hear, if they start slacking, you just come to us and we’ll take care of it,” Chaeryong said jokingly, (Y/n) smiled at the joke, and seeing how well they got along with the SKZ members, though she knew, that she would never have to ask for help because she knew that SKZ would take good care of her for the rest of her life.

Just then, it was time to order food for the Itzy girls so the conversation died down. “So (Y/n), I just talked with the vet and we have a time booked for tomorrow, at 2 pm, I have taken a few hours off around it so that we can go,” “Okay, I hope it isn’t to much of a burden for you to take time off for this,” “No, not at all, right now we’re mostly doing the finishing touches for the dance, and we’re scheduling which variety shows to attend, and things like that can be dealt with by Changbin for a day or two,” “Your, um, comeback? is quite soon, right?” “Yeah, it’s just 2 weeks away, and once it starts our schedules are going to look quite different from now, we’ll be travelling around more, you can of course come with us but if it seems like too much for now, you can stay at home or maybe be with the Itzy girls, if you’re comfortable with it,”

“It sounds like a lot, but I want to try being with you guys, but I also want you to be honest with me if my presence becomes a burden or a distraction, I know you love me and you’re not saying it to be mean, but I don’t want to be the reason you guys can’t work,” Chan reached out and petted the hybrid’s head, “I promise, if it ever becomes a problem, we’ll talk about it,” “Good,” That was the end of the conversation, they ordered their food and went to sit down at a table, fortunately they managed to get one that fit their entire group this time.

The rest of the day went by quickly, and before anyone knew it, the group was home and ready to head to bed. Now it was time for the sweet bunny to sleep in Jisung’s room, she was excited because she had barely been in his room, since she moved in. “Hey,” Jisung said with a yawn as (Y/n) came into his room, they were both exhausted after the day. “Hi,” (Y/n) answered with a shy wave, feeling a bit awkward for some reason. She noticed a few plushies in the room, but they all seemed to have been recently moved from the bed, as they didn’t seem to belong on the floor, half in a bookshelf, or on the desk by his computer.

“Um, so, I heard that you cuddled with Changbin, the night you slept in his room, and well, I was wondering if you might want to do it with me as well? Only if you’re comfortable with it of course,” He looked shy and nervous, maybe even anxious if the bunny focused on his scent. While it did seem a bit scary, she was also intrigued and quickly agreed with the rapper’s proposition. “Yeah, I’d like that,”

(Y/n) went over to her bed and picked up the pillow from it and brought it over to Jisung’s bed, she laid it down beside his own pillow, and then she got into the bed. It felt a bit weird but she was excited to cuddle again, she has come to love being close to the boys. The two laid there, facing each other in silence for a few minutes, just looking around and into one another’s eyes. Blushing. Like two high school kids having their first sleep over with their first love.

“I’m really happy that you live with us now, I know it hasn’t been that long, but I really do love you, we all do,” Jisung shyly reached out and caressed (Y/n)’s cheek as he gazed into her eyes. “I love you too,” The bunny reached out and mirrored Jisung’s action, caressing his cheek too. They stayed like this for a minute, before their eyes met once again, and they both leaned in, slowly, milimiter by milimeter until finally. Their lips met. In a short and shy kiss, their lips pressed against each other, their eyes fell shut as they basked in the presence and feeling of each other.

As their lips parted from the short kiss, their cheeks were painted as red as a rose. They looked away from one another, their eyes instead falling on the other’s lips, (Y/n) took a deep breath, searching with all her senses for an answer as to what this meant, while she recieved no such thing, she slowly fell into a deep slumber, surrounded by the scent of Jisung, the warmth of his arm around her, the sound of his breathing and his heart beats, and the feeling deep inside of her, that she yearned for more, to be closer, to all of them.

And so the two fell into a deep and calm slumber, no nightmares of anxiety in sight, nothing but sweet dreams of their future together.

~ To be continued ~

And that ends chapter 12! What did you guys think? Finally a chapter with little to no angst, did you enjoy it? Or do you miss the angst?

In the next chapter, (Y/n) and Chan will go to the vet, what will they find there? What will happen with the bunny’s heat? And what will happen once the boys finally have their comeback?

Thank you to everyone who reads this! I appreciate you all, have a good day/night!

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hey-hey-j · 1 day ago

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anyway here's another excerpt because I'm starting to lose confidence in the fic overall pfgggfhhf

He only has to catch himself on the doorframe once when he starts stepping out of his room, but from there it’s easy-peasy to keep one hand placed securely against the wall as he makes his way down the hall, slowly, all the way to the bunker’s small kitchen. The smell of something getting overcooked greets him before he can make it all the way inside.

Like most mornings, John Dory is already down here, grinning that goofy grin of his as he hovers over the stove, flips something in one of the pans he’s got ever-so-slightly smoking on it. When he notices Floyd coming in he turns to greet him cheerfully, ears perking up excitedly. “Morning!”

Floyd makes a low hum of acknowledgement in his throat, then follows it up with a mumbly “Morning.” He leans against the doorframe, rubs at his still tired eyes. God, he wants to go back to bed. “Where’s Branch?”

If it’s not John Dory, then it’s usually Branch who’s down in the kitchen before anyone else, cooking breakfast with a lot more precision and a lot fewer pans than John Dory is doing now. If he’s not here, then he’s gotta be busy somewhere else. Floyd’s learned by now that Branch isn’t the type to let the day go to waste.

John Dory brings his free hand up to his chest and flattens it there, says in a voice gone all melodramatic, “Our dearest Bitty B had to get an early start today.” Then, bringing his voice back down to its usual deep tone he adds, “He said he’s helping Poppy with the expansion plans.”

Right, the expansion—weeks of back and forth correspondence with Clay and Viva, calculating the amount of new pods needing to be built to accommodate the Putt Putt trolls, how many Putt Putts total split up into how many couples and families, how many caterbuses will be needed to bring them all to the village and what adjustments need to be made to their food stores to account for the extra mouths to feed…. it’s giving Floyd a headache just thinking about the amount of work involved.

(The amount of work he could be out there helping his baby brother with, but thinking about that just starts making his stomach feel all squeezy. It’s either that or the fact that he just chugged down a handful of pills on an empty stomach.)

Speaking of: John’s already placing a steaming mug and a plate of scrambled eggs (only slightly burnt at the edges) on the table before Floyd can even sit down, and once Floyd does he lets himself sink into the chair immediately, biting back another sigh at the tension seeping from his muscles.

For a moment, he’s grateful that John didn’t notice the gesture, back turned to Floyd as he fills up his own mug at the counter. When he does turn to Floyd again it’s with a big smile plastered on his face, his best attempt at coming off as inviting.

“So!” Way too cheerily. “How’re we feeling today?”

Sitting up gingerly (despite the squeal of protest in his lower back), Floyd reaches for the coffee mug. For as much as he’s been going on about his empty stomach, he’s just feeling vaguely queasy at the sight of food right now. “Okay,” he answers John. Halfheartedly sips at his coffee—wait, no, that is bitter. Floyd peers warily down at the drink as he adds, “I took my meds early today, so….”

He doesn’t know how to finish that sentence.

Regardless, he can see John Dory nodding through his own swig of coffee, replying when he’s able, “Good to know they’re working, uh?”

“I guess, yeah….”

Though Floyd doesn’t feel like they’re working.

An awkward silence passes over the two brothers then, abruptly. Floyd goes on peering down into his mug. Briefly he thinks about getting up and getting some dang creamer but even that feels like too much effort today. John Dory goes on standing at the other end of the table, mug cupped in both hands, one finger repeatedly tapping on the ceramic like he’s looking for something to say. Or like he’s nervous.

“....Well, Branch is probably going to be gone for most of the day.”

Floyd nods in response. “Yup.” Busy guy.

“So, I was thinking….”

Floyd blinks up in time to see John Dory setting his mug down on the table. Placing both palms down flat on the surface so he can lean in closer to Floyd, just a little bit, like he’s trying to be conscious of his brother’s personal bubble.

“Maybe you and I could do something together, yeah?” John’s voice has gone uncharacteristically low. Almost…. soft. His ears are pricking up with anticipation. “Just the two of us!”

There’s a kind of gleam in his eyes as he says it, something small and bright and almost like…. almost like hope, Floyd realizes, and right at that moment he feels his own ears droop with the knowledge of what John is trying to do….

Something leaps in Floyd’s stomach. He finds himself sighing, suddenly, not bothering to stifle it this time. One hand comes up to pinch at his temple again, the headache threatening to emerge earlier finally setting in. Another sigh.

“I…. I think I just want to stay in today…. I’m so—”

Suddenly he’s biting back the next word. Literally—he feels his tongue catching in his teeth before he can spit it out.

I’m….

“I’m…. I’m just…. not really feeling it right now.”

He casts his eyes back down to the drink in his grip but he still catches it.

John Dory’s hands clenching against the tabletop.

“Oh…. th-that’s okay!” The words are cheerful, but Floyd can still sense it, the pang of disappointment in his older brother’s voice. It’s almost enough to get Floyd walking back his statement right then and there, but—no. Floyd’s tired. He’s sick and he’s tired and he doesn’t want to go out today. No matter how much John Dory pouts about it.

But, seeing that big desperate smile still clinging to John’s face….

That awkward silence again. Just as abrupt as before. Floyd closes his eyes against it….

“....Hey, um. D’you wanna…. come up to Rhonda with me?”

This time Floyd does swallow back the irritated sigh that wants to escape him. His eyes flutter back open, his mouth starting to say something—

“You don’t have to do anything!” John Dory briskly interrupts him with a raising of his palms, almost panicked, before he seems to realize what he’s doing and quickly tucks his hands under his arms, shrinking back from the table and therefore Floyd with his gaze going down to the floor. This time when he speaks, his words come out slower. More careful.

“I just…. need to declutter some stuff up there.” Nervously he moves his gaze back up towards Floyd, suddenly looking a kind of anxious that Floyd hasn’t seen in him since….

Bro, you look stressed. Breathe….

It’s in that moment that Floyd realizes he’s been biting his lip. He lets it go gingerly, eyes still trained hesitantly on John Dory. The tense line of his shoulders.

If it’s just from here to Rhonda….

For what feels like the hundredth time, Floyd lets out a sigh. He moves to take another sip of coffee—BLECK, yeah, no, that’s still terrible. He pushes the mug away from himself, fixes John Dory with a look he hopes comes across as Fine, but don’t ask anything more of me.

“Okay.”

At that, John Dory smiles. Relief clearly flooding his eyes as he goes to pick up his mug again, starts making his way around the table. “Okay then, cool!” He says it breathily as he steps past Floyd, on his way to the exit. “I’ll meet you up there, okay? When you’re ready!” He points a finger before he disappears down the hall entirely. “Eat your breakfast!”

Just like that, Floyd is left alone in the kitchen.

#j screeches #trolls #there's a line taken directly from junie b jones in here because i'd been re-reading the first book at the time

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saintvainglorious · 1 day ago

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Fics I Enjoyed in January - DC Comics Fic Rec List Part 2

I am still neck-deep in DC fandom this month and the fics have been so so good. Unlike last time, I am too tired to write mini summaries/reviews, so I'm going to feature my favorite quote from each fic instead.

My first DC Comics fic rec list is here!

Floor Plans by @oh-mother-of-darkness (Teen & Up, 1k, 2016) “I really didn’t want to die,” he finished. “I was kind of hoping if I laid here long enough, I would remember what that felt like.”

Losing two brothers in six months takes an emotional toll.

almost right by @bitimdrake (Teen & Up, 3k, 2020) He desperately wishes that he didn’t know what Dick’s cheekbone feels like under a gauntleted fist.

Bruce sucks in a breath, hand raising to fix the cowl. Dick flinches back.

but more with love by @danishsweethearts (Teen & Up, 3k, 2022) Dick wakes up one morning, groggy from a dream that he thinks might’ve been about the circus and also about his favourite car and also about how lonely he is, and realizes that he can’t remember what his mother’s voice sounds like anymore.

O Robin, Robin, wherefore art thou Robin?

The Mechanics of a Hug by @sohotthateveryonedied (General Audiences, 4k, 2017) “You know… that crushing sense of depression? Like,” Dick chews his lip. “It’s. A physical weight. Makes it hard to breathe?” “Yeah,” Tim says, soft. He smiles, wryly. “I sort of hoped you didn’t, though.”

“So,” Tim ventures. “It's… what, a cuddle pollen?” Bruce just shrugs. “Something like that.”

No Pain, All Gain by @sohotthateveryonedied (General Audiences, 1k, 2020) Tim’s eyes go even wider. “You stole my organs?” “Technically,” Jason chimes in, “the doctors stole your organs. We just gave them permission.”

Bruce checks Tim’s IV. “Are you in any pain? Do you need more morphine?” Tim’s pupils are so wide that only the faintest ring of blue can be seen. He watches Bruce the way a five-year-old watches cartoons. “I’m all good, B-dog. All Gucci, like we cool teens say." His words are slurred almost beyond recognition, but Tim doesn’t seem to notice or care. "I could fight Superman right now.”

The Wind Sits in the Shoulder of Your Sail by @birdchildsnest (Teen & Up, 7k, 2020) “Oh my god. Bruce. I can’t even tell if you’re serious. When everybody finally eats the rich—they’re going to eat you first.”

At least, back then, Tim had barely been a teenager. He could almost forgive his own volatility. And he’d been smart enough (scared enough?) not to tell Jack that he didn’t need him. What was his excuse now? Bruce was his dad (at least, in the legal sense), but (surprise, surprise) it turned out that Tim wasn’t any better at being a son. Or Tim and Bruce still have some things to sort through after the adoption.

I Left My Conscience On Your Front Doorstep by @dustorange (Teen & Up, 21k, 2022) He doesn’t want to be loved if being loved is like this.

"I think I'm leaving," Dick whispers. "I think I'm not coming back."

bad boys bad boys (whatcha gonna do) ♫ by @drakefeathers (Teen & Up, 20k, 2014) "They live their lives thinking they can charge through the city with the right to hurt and kill and destroy as many lives as they want. And they do it all without a shred of remorse." “But—” Damian begins, brow furrowed in confusion. “Isn’t that like you?”

a Jason and Damian as Batman and Robin AU!! featuring a bunch of graffiti, a rival dynamic duo, and Cat Jason (a cat named Jason).

The Biggest Mistake by @oh-mother-of-darkness (General Audiences, 1k, 2016) “I could ground him anyway, if it would make you feel better.” “He only said it because I called him ‘a garbage can so ineffective it actually became garbage.’”

"You know what really needs to be addressed? Bruce's truly terrible treatment of Damian." -Me, on a daily basis

been a number and a name by @wynterstars (Teen & Up, 35k, 2023) “Turns out if you just say ‘spacetime’ until people’s eyes glaze over they don’t really question anything you say. Also, somehow nobody expects me to be able to actually do enough math to explain it.”

On a field trip, Robin has a close encounter with the newest super in Metropolis, only to discover the hard way that Superboy secretly works for Lex Luthor. They agree to work together on a plan to free Superboy from Luthor’s hold, but Robin isn’t sure how far he can trust him—and his developing feelings only make things more complicated.

clean it like you mean it by @wynterstars (Teen & Up, 70k, 2024) "Wait, ugh, you're not my dead dad, right? If I'm getting a dying vision of my dead dad I want a do-over because he suuuuucked."

When Gotham's crooks have to scrub down their lairs, who do they call? Jason Todd, Gotham's first and only underworld crime scene cleaning specialist. He's spent his life dodging the Bat, but after a chance encounter he saves Robin's life. Tim Drake finds himself drawn to the conflicted rogue, and soon Jason becomes Robin's street informant. But they can only stay on opposite sides of the law for so long before something breaks.

3:16 by @wufflesvetinari (Teen & Up, 70k (WIP), 2023) “Try to decouple one thing from the other. I’m proud of you, but ice cream isn’t my grand statement about whether you’ve been good or bad today. Good things are good. Happiness is precious. Sometimes you just want caramel chocolate chip.”

The knife pushes thin along Dick’s carotid artery, cupping the indent between neck and jawline—forcing him to angle his chin. The metal is warm, pulled with execution speed from under Damian’s pillow. “Okay,” Dick says quietly, tracking the intricacies of his own heartbeat—counting the space between breaths. “Guess I did need a shave.” (With faltering steps, Dick and Damian become Batman and Robin.)

wolf-king of rome by @mysterycitrus (Not Rated, 25k, 2024) “You go after Joker, but you don’t kill him, because it’s not about the Joker dying, it’s about Bruce breaking his code for you. It’s about Bruce loving you enough to change himself for the worse. It’s about your idea of grieving.”

Jason doesn’t fear Dick Grayson. Fear itself has changed shape for him, since his return from the Pit - it tastes of dirt in his mouth, of drowning, of fire and blood and laughter, more than a tangible face. Still, he’d be stupid not to be cautious. Dick liked playing on an uneven field, and would do anything to keep him off balance, so he just had to stay focused. That’s the nature of the armistice, both waiting for the other to make a move. It’s like balancing on the head of a pin.

Declensions by @dustorange (Teen & Up, 13k, 2018) “Do not tell them your name. Do as I did to survive. I lied. I have always lied. Make one up. Do not let them have you. Say your name is…is…is…Richard Grayson. Or something. They are going to steal you; do not give them anything to steal.”

“My father,” Dick says, “worked the rope. It cut him. His hands were never clean.”

Passiontide by @bigdvmnhero (Teen & Up, 5k, 2025) Despite its faults, the day had tried to be good. He felt young, like someone's son.

On the 96th day Bruce didn't call, Dick remembered their old game. Three things he knew: 1) In three months, it would be Dick's death anniversary; 2) Bruce was still missing his check-ins; 3) Here Dick was, persisting. Imagine the things I'd survive, Dick thought distantly, if I loved Bruce less. Or: Agent 37 and his various crises of faith, on Day 277 at Spyral, Day 150, and Day -0.

the time you won your town the race by @silverwhittlingknife (Teen & Up, 4k (WIP), 2022) Tim. Tim is Dick’s. Death sharpens, clarifies these things. Who will receive the body, decide on the funeral, receive condolences, make all the decisions that matter. No one has questioned it, not even Tim’s friends. There’s a terrible clarity about death. If Dick said, let’s burn everything he owned, Alfred would do it.

He doesn’t know exactly what Tim would say. But he knows what Tim would do. Tim dies. Dick doesn’t take death for an answer. A Red Robin 12 AU.

door, opening by @cowboysorceror (Mature, 70k (WIP), 2024) Dick, with the keys to every locked door Jason has ever tried to open, tucked inside the cradle of his skull; all of that, snuffed out like a candle.

It’s barely audible, but he knows what he heard. A short, four-note whistle, chirping down – E, C#, then jumping up to A, F#, a little trill on the finish. He waits a moment, head turned slightly towards the dim shapes of storage containers between him and the ramp, eyes straining against the blackness. Long, stretching seconds. There it is again. His gloved hand, prickling with cold, closes into a fist. It’s a wood thrush. A small North American songbird that doesn’t sing at night, doesn’t live in the city. He knows what it means. It means hold, steady, not yet. It means wait for me, I’m behind you.

#fic recs #fanfiction #dc comics #batfamily #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #kon el #timkon #god i read so many emotionally devastating fics this month my whole soul is a shattered wreck #Floor Plans is my favorite by that author read it back in high school and never forgot will always be haunted by the Tim on the floor fic #almost right hit WAY too close to home uhhhhh maybe i should acquire a therapist #but more with love is 100% how I'd want Dick telling his family about the origins of Robin to go down in canon #(and is also a fic about Bruce fucking up but his relationship with Dick still being repairable which i. desperately needed this month #after reading many MANY other fics where It Will Never Be Okay Between Them (And That's The Point))#I Left My Conscience On Your Front Doorstep aka yet another fic that has made me be like hmmmm maybe i need therapy for my father issues #been a number and a name aka delightful 90s references AND Kon's origin being the Death of Superman animated movies #(my FAV version of his origin ever) AND Tim crossdressing??? rlly what more could u ask for in a Timkon fic chefs kiss #wolf-king of rome literally had me writing an essay to multiple friends explaining how galaxy brained this fic is #the themes of that whole fic series (the body is a haunted house) are once again therapy inducing im rotating them in my mind #Declensions is just straight up literature they just weren't writing Dick fic like this when i was in high school i feel blessed #the time you won your town the race was the only silverwhittlingknife fic I hadn't read yet and oh my god the SCREAMS i SCRAMPT #it was so so hard to pick a favorite quote from door opening that fic has got some spectacular prose #some other quotes I strongly considered for that fic:#“Jason worries sometimes that there’s a piece of him that will be fifteen forever calcified like a little black pearl”#“Gotham is a shade a moon-pale queen withered by the grief of the centuries the crypt of the empire”

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