#while i finish setting up soul's blog | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gingernut1314 · 6 months ago

Text

Touch Me, Please pt. 1

Polnareff x GN!Reader

Summary: How Part 3 Polnareff likes to be touched

Warnings: FLUFFFFFFFFFFF, jjba part 3

Word Count: HC: 910+, Drabbles: 370+ & 510+, Total: 1.8K

A/N: soo...have I mentioned I'm head over heels for this man? No. Okay. I love him. Some of this came from a convo I had with the amazing @cinnbar-bun who was also the lovely soul who introduced me to this show and my newest husband. Let's all give her a round of applause because I absolutely love this show 👏👏👏 First time writing for Polnareff so I did my best and I hope you enjoy! 🩷 (Also I plan on this being a bit of a series so look out for that)

↞ to Touch Me Masterlist | Jjba Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠ Part 2

TOUCH THIS MAN!

PLEASE

He needs it

He needs touch like he needs the air to breathe

He’ll turn into literal puddy in your hand if you do

Brush your fingers over his when handing him food

Pat his cheek, arm, shoulder, back

Brush your shoulder against his as you walk side by side

HOLD HIS HAND

PLEASE HOLD HIS HAND

I’m not asking I’m telling you to hold his hand or else this man will become the saddest puddle you’ve ever seen

And all of this is just your average day being friends with Polnareff

Once you two become an item he becomes like a baby koala he’s so clingy

He always needs a hand on you

Some sort of skin-on-skin

He still doesn’t fully believe you want to be his partner let alone let him touch you

So whether it be his hand holding your own or his thigh pressed against yours as you two eat he needs to touch you

Would 100% be the type of partner to hug you from behind while waiting in any sort of line

Would 100% want to follow you into the bathroom just so that he could keep holding your hand (and has definitely done so in the past)

Is honestly so terrified when you two have to go your separate ways for such things as going to the bathroom

Not only because he’s had less than pleasant experiences with those spaces thanks to enemy Stand Users

But because he is so utterly terrified that if he lets you go, you’ll disappear

He’s dealt with enough heartbreak to last him two lifetimes so the thought of losing you is utter hell

He just needs to feel you to reassure himself you are still with him

Still with him and still breathing

Will press his ear over your heart sometimes to listen to your heartbeat

You struggled to unlock the hotel room door thanks to the multitude of food bags cradled in your arms. Somehow you had managed to pull the room key from your back pocket but now your grapple with unlocking the door and turning the handle without dropping the food was threatening your will. The key slid into the lock, pulling a bright laughing cheer from your lips at finally starting to win the battle set before. You grabbed for the handle of the door just as it turned, the door yanking open in a rush of air. “Oh--” You said, taking a small step as you took back at the tall body that now stood in the entrance. Polnareff’s familiar face had your body easing and smile tugging bright once more at your lips. “Good morn--” You never got to finish your sentences before Polnareff’s strong arms were wrapping around your body, crushing you and the food against his chest. “I woke up and you weren’t there and the others were gone as well and--and I--” Polnareff panicked into your neck, nuzzling his face against your skin as a shuddering breath shook his body. His hold tightened further as if to keep you glued to him. The sound of a plastic container crunching filled your ears, letting you know the food you had fought to keep from falling was getting crushed within his embrace. You’re heart twisted in your chest at his utterly panicked state, the food’s destruction far from your mind as you all but dropped the bags. Your hands and arms were instantly wrapped around his neck, fingers brushing soothing circles into his skin. “Mon amour, I-I didn’t know where you were.” He said in a voice smaller than that of a whisper. “I thought I would be back before you woke up. I told the others to be here if you did but--forgive me. I should have taken you with me.” You whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “I--Love, what do you need?” You asked, wanting the panic to leave him and for that goofy smile to return to his lips. “Just…touch me…please.” It was a request you were more than happy to fulfill, pulling him ever closer into your hold.

If you ever need space, Polnareff is more than happy to give it to you

But that sad puddle he became when you went a whole minute without touching him while just being friends becomes an oh-so-sad ocean

The rest of the Crusaders are going to be teasing the hell out of the guy for being such a gloomy, near-sobbing mess

And speaking of the other Crusaders

They cannot stand how touchy you two are

The phrase “get a room”, among other things, is almost always spilling from their lips

Oh boy and talking about lips

KISS THIS MAN

KISS HIM, PLEASE, I BEG THIS OF YOU

Give him soft kisses

Kiss him on his blushing cheeks, forehead, nose, ears, shoulders

Pepper this man in kisses

And he is kissing you right back

Taking your hands in his and pressing kisses to your knuckles

He’s kissing the inside of your wrist as you sit on the train or at dinner

Kissing the top of your head as you walk

Just kisses everywhere, all the time

He likes to talk to you while his lips are touching your skin

Likes it even more if he can whisper sweet nothings in French against your own lips

You happily hummed as you ate, the soft, classical music floating through the bustling restaurant not the tune you had chosen to muse as spectacular spices and flavors brust over your tongue. A warm thumb brushed at the side of your mouth, clearing a bit of sauce from your skin. Your face began to feel warm at the touch, knowing exactly whose thumb had swiped over your skin. You turned, finding Polnareff’s gray eyes already watching you. Eyes so full of loving adoration it took your breath away every time you looked into them. “Did you get it all?” Your voice sounding near breathless as you took in his handsome, which a bright smile adorned. Polnareff hummed in mock thought, taking your chin between his fingers. He turned your face this way and that, searching for a mess that you knew was nowhere to be found. “Ah! There is some just there.” He said, guiding your face ever closer. “Are you going to get it for me?” You asked, lips parting as your face was drawn closer to his. “Of course, mon coeur.” He all but purred, turning that warmth into a burning fire. Your heart raced as he leaned into you, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. He hardly pulled away before you were grabbing hold of his shirt, keeping him close. “I--I think I feel some more. Just here.” You said, voice wobbling as you tapped your other cheek. Polnareff widely grinned, more than eager to place a chaste kiss to your other cheek. “And here.” You breathed, tapping your lips. A chuckle left Polnareff’s chest that grew muffled against your lips. He kissed you sweetly. So sweet it had your heart melting and your stomach fluttering around like it had grown wings like some butterfly. “Good grief.” The gruff voice of Jotaro grumbled from across the table where he sat. “Mr. Joestar,” Kakyoin huffed, his typically smooth voice laced in utter disgust at you and Polnareff’s actions. “Please make them stop.” “Me? Stop them?” The oldest Joestar all but shouted from where he sat at your side. Kakyoin must have nodded because Joseph gave a huffing grumble of his own. “Alright, you two. Knock it off. This place is nice--and in public.” He tried, to no avail. You both ignored the group, lips pulling away only so you could pepper Polnareff’s face in kisses he was more than happy to return. Whispered Mon amours, mon coeurs, among other loving titles pressed into your skin making it tingle in delight. “Eh--see. They won’t listen to me.” Joseph huffed. “I do not believe there is a power on this earth or in the heavens above that is strong enough to keep them apart.” The calm voice was Advol spoke from Polnareff’s side, a light chuckle in his voice. A giggle escaped your lips at his words, nuzzling your nose against Polnareff’s. They were words you couldn’t help but full-heartedly believe as Polnareff cupped your jaw in his strong hand, kissing your lips like it was the last time he would ever taste them again.

If he’s driving the group, you better believe you're sitting shotgun so he can place a hand on your thigh, giving it gentle squeezes to remind you he’s always thinking about you

If Joseph is insistent about sitting in the front, Polnareff either refuses to drive outright or is reaching into the back to hold your hand much to Jotaro and Kakyoin’s displeasure

Will reach over one of the others to touch you

Has and will lead to a shouting match between Polnareff and the others

But he refuses to be so close to you yet so so far

He’ll even go as far as to send Silver Chariot to sit with you and hold your hand if he can’t be there with you

Though this has led to one too many Star Platinum beatdowns

CUDDLE THE MAN

Oh my goodness PLEASE cuddle him

He’s so warm and his arms are so safe

Only one bed?

No trouble whatsoever!

Polnareff wasn’t going to sleep without you anyway

Only a few rooms left?

Polnareff and you have been deemed your own room because the others will not deal with your touchiness while trying to sleep mere inches away

Polnareff’s cuddle could save a life

It’s a fact

His fingers are rubbing circles into your back or arm

His face buried in the crook of your neck so he could take in your scent and dream of you while he sleeps

Whether it be a hug from the front or back, he has his arms around you while you sleep

His legs intertwining between yours, molding himself against you

He literally worships the ground you walk on so why wouldn’t he just want to become another extension of your being?

The only thing he won’t always want touched is his hair

He spent nearly an hour that morning in the dimly lit hotel bathroom getting it just right

And he loves you

GOD he loves you

He loves you so much it hurts

But his hair is off-limits until you both are settling in for the night

Then he is more than happy to let you run your fingers through his hair

He also won’t be completely opposed to you helping him style his hair in the morning, but you’ll need to go through several days of “training” before you can even touch one of his combs

147 notes · View notes

kithtaehyung · 1 month ago

Text

[ 3tanfall ] ok so i posted this in the cul de sac but it's also gonna live on the blog too bc!! it's part of 3tanotes and i'm way too excited about it :')) so thank you all again and here's the spoiler passage!

A gentle autumn breeze wraps around your shoulders as you wait. Leaves traverse the concrete at your shoes, and you feel at peace while the sun starts to set.

How long have you been standing here? Surely Yoongi would’ve responded or at least texted you by now.

Knocking again, you pull out your phone to call him, noticing that the water bowl next to your feet is empty but the food bowl still has some spare scraps. With your free hand, you scoop up the empty container.

Where is he? You know he’s home so—

The door opens while your phone still rings, so you’re staring back at a pair of glasses in shock. Probably not how he expected to see you. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Yoongi responds, blinking at the bowl in your hand. “Oh, was that empty?”

“Mmhmm.” While you step inside, you quietly swoon at the way he slips your bag from your shoulder, laughing at his sudden set of questions.

“What the—? What the hell’s in here?”

You throw an explanation over your side on the way to the kitchen. “A surprise!”

Thumps hit his counter as he exerts effort. “Goddamn. You moving in?”

“You wish!” If this man says that one more time, you're packing your bags. Only hypothetically, of course. Because there's no way he means it right now.

Your sad grin’s light bounces off the sink at an angle. “Just got some things at the store and didn’t wanna use bags.”

When a hand braces the counter next to your waist, your mood instantly blooms. A hint of shyness will linger as always, but it’s paired with beautiful familiarity. Truly a welcome change in this new chapter, new season with him.

Yoongi’s other hand warms your arm with a light skim. And he doesn’t speak until you’re done with your task of filling the bowl with water,

“You could.”

Oh.

Just as the world transforms outside, so does your soul as every pretty and fleeting emotion nestles under your cheeks. When you slowly look Yoongi’s way, you admire his eyelashes as he focuses on the fingers touching your skin.

“I could,” you whisper back. When he lifts his gaze, your smile spreads. “If you convince me.”

That damn scrunch of his nose would be enough. But Yoongi sniffs in determination, straightening his posture before folding sleeved arms. “Mm… Sounds tough.” Your hands are still damp when he squints at the ceiling, but that doesn’t stop you from wanting to strangle him when he jokes,

“And I’m lazy.”

“Oh, you—!” You laugh along with him as he breaks his facade, which doesn’t prepare you for the way he quickly tugs you in for a stupidly delicious kiss. It’s almost lethal enough for you to drop the bowl completely, but he releases as quickly as he pounced.

Leaving you with swollen lips and swirls for eyes.

Gathering what’s left of your sanity, you slowly squeak out, “That’s a… Good start.”

“Nice.” Yoongi flicks your nose before walking to his room. “After you put that out, come in here. Wanna show you something.”

“Something? Or something...”

He laughs. “Just hurry up. You’ll see.”

a/n: goodbye i've missed them so much and i can't wait to finish this oh my godddd. hope y'all are ready for a whole pile of fluff and steamy goodness lmao

#can i just say #UGH???#3tanotes #3tanfall #3tan spoilers #*ryenfictalk

57 notes · View notes

lych33dragoncookie · 3 months ago

Text

So, uh... About that update.

Yeah, I got my hopes up. Irrefutably so. This is definitely not a Shadow Milk release update, considering his body isn't even ready yet. Unlike someone else's, which absolutely is...

I'd been paying attention to leaks, and... Yeah, I knew this was gonna happen. Unfortunately, the way things are being set up, Shadow Milk is likely gonna be the last of the beasts to get a full release. Which, to my impulsive side, is quite frustrating, but...

With a few of the new things we've found out, it... Makes sense, all things considered.

This? This isn't normal. He's not normal. None of this is normal. He doesn't even have a properly finished body yet, but he can still, through the power of his soul alone, bend "the other-space", whatever that may be. We already knew he could manipulate and alter matter and/or space, but the fact he can do the things he does in this update, without even having a body, is... Frankly terrifying, as far as implications about his level of power go. Can... Can he inherently control souls? What's his dominion over the realm of spirits? Because, clearly he has some, otherwise...

... He wouldn't be able to do this.

The screams he talks about aren't fabricated, no, even Wind Archer could sense that the Ultimate Cookie was, in fact, in pain, lending credence to the fact that Shadow Milk could, in fact, hear the agonized screams of the souls being drained from these mindless, artificial lifeforms.

So, I guess we now know Shadow Milk, one way or another, can both perceive and manipulate the spirit realm as he pleases, and that seems to be how he afflicts people with hallucinations and visions. By giving them a glimpse into a realm he has a scary degree of control over.

I'd also like to correct my previous post's statements, because...

Yeah, he's here strictly to fuck with Wind. He's just here to have fun while his body is in the works. The Cake Witch seems to have appeared on its own, and Wind is clearly of no threat to Dark Enchantress's plans. So he... Just showed up to fuck with him. Not to ensure his death, not to test out his new body, no. He couldn't actually do anything, for the most part. He just wanted to have fun.

I love it.

Although... Clearly, it's not like he has no power over the physical realm.

Wind Archer's work is undone. Immediately. Just like that. And, presumably, he's also the reason Burning Spice awakens. Though, this may not necessarily be control over the physical realm, he could just use his dominion over the spirit realm to take away the lifeforms' peace, and immediately bring back their suffering. Just as he could perceive it perfectly, he can reinstate it the moment it's soothed.

And I just have to think... Has he been here this whole time? Bound to the laboratorium, hearing all these little things scream in agony, writhing, drained of life? This whole time? And he's still overjoyed to help carry on the process? There's no way Dark Enchantress could sense that same suffering, only he can, and he still goes along with it anyways, and he enjoys it. Every. Single. Second of it.

Christ, man. What the fuck is wrong with you.

I promise this isn't just a Shadow Milk blog, i just think he's neat

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #shadow milk cookie #jester ramblings

124 notes · View notes

erenspussy420 · 1 year ago

Note

Oh well like for crewel and Crowley (seperately )x Latina reader

Rivals to lovers

Soulmate au

Fluff plz

Sorry this took too long to finish but hopefully you like it!

1.8K words

Fem Reader

SFW (However my blog isn't so you have been warned.)

......

Soulmates, a rather direct term for something so vital in the lives of Twisted Wonderland. There is a reason for the plural, instead of the singular term. For one does not have one soulmate but rather two, so to speak, a rival or an enemy many say in your life. And the other as many would garner the true soulmate, the true love.

A touching sentiment, knowing somewhere out there is the other part of you waiting to reunite in the vast sea of life. Those who will understand the depth of who you are and you in turn peek into their heart of hearts. Even the most bitter of men and women, crave that companionship.

At least it would be should you actually know which side is which. The citizens of the world tried to figure it out, taking guesses but to the dismay of many it seems that it is not as direct at times. It made a rather interesting story about how one meets their true soulmate, and their hated sworn enemy.

In some cases, they were the same person!

Some lament at such the idea of having their arms confuse them, some don’t mind and seem to relish having an enemy, some finding the way to find true love a challenge, but all agree they rather have both names than none—-

Unlike these poor souls whose arms will stay bare.

Dire Crowley:

‘It doesn’t bother him, not one bit!’ He proclaims, as he tugs over his sleeves. A big fat fucking lieeeee. Anyone can see or rather pityingly watch the rather pathetic display when it's the annual staff parties, and Crowley drinking himself into the bottle.

Woe is poor Dire! Arms care to the world, no name on either one. Not even a smidge! He always keeps his arms covered in long sleeves, as he could anyway. Summer’s are a challenge for him, he tends to overheat quite easily regardless of his ice magic. He looks longingly at those bright hideous Pleasure Island shirts.

When he’s alone, he rolls up his sleeves and looks at them forlorn. He is a fae raven, and for so many years it's been lonely. It's not uncommon that sometimes a fae and a human or beastman will be soulmates, usually they appear as they are born, but Crowley has yet to see any ink paint his smooth skin after a decade of waiting…and waiting….

He has been practicing making a nest, so leave the man alone when he steals your shit.

Until one day, the day he yearns for came true. It was during the opening ceremony, did he feel a hot sensation climb up his arm. It was so strong, he practically kneeled over, grabbing onto it as it glowed bright like copper, and once it died, it left a singular name in cursive letters. He couldn’t believe it! You were here! You were finally here!

Crowley is laughing, crowing up a storm that the housewardens and newcomers felt wary and a bit scared as Crowley hugs his students, twirling them around. He would kiss their cheeks if it wasn’t for the fact that can be counted as harassment and most of these ruffians have claws.

Happy day! Happy day! He had noticed it's the same name for both sides. Oh dear, but it didn’t matter because as of this day, he wasn’t alone! ….Oh…Oh dear, there was quite the commotion, quite the ruckus! Nothing can damper his mood! Not even a cat setting everything on fire and a magicless human!

Then he catches your name, and oh dear….the headmaster had frozen stiff…until your gaze is now covered in feathers and a man sobbing into your arms crying "how beautiful you are!" And "thank the Sevens! I waited for so long! So long to bask in your gaze!”---while you’re yelling in spanish about the crazy bird man, smacking him with his own shoe.

Truly a beautiful sight you have finally arrived! So much so that Trein had to take over since Crowley hasn’t stopped trying to preen your hair and crying into hair.

Once he finally gets himself in control, does his actual duties as a headmaster and deal with the fact you are not of Twisted Wonderland and from another world completely. He’s totally working on a way home— just let him get to know you as he does.

He catches himself staring too long at you. He can’t help it, he’s waited for you for so long! Every curve, every angle of your face makes his breath hitch. You have a bold look to you, confident and with a loud laugh that adds more to your charm.

Oh when he pisses you off, he can tell the second the house is filled with the scent of roasted dried chilies. Cue Crowley wheezing.

He does try to learn the Spanish you speak, wanting to learn more about you and the culture you hail from. Its rather sweet, even if you were teaching him swear words at first.

You have a big sense of community, his soulmate is so generous! Which does make him pout as he watches you, mother hen some of his troublemakers by putting the fear of God into them.

Though he does like how you bring him into a dance in the kitchens, teaching him the simple steps of dances that have him being twirled around in your arms.

Adding into the second role of being a soulmate, you have pushed Crowley into being more active with his students, something most of his staff has thanked you for. As you were working on your master’s before being run down by the horses in the middle of Los Angeles.

Even working harder than before, Crowley is utterly in love with his soulmate.

Crewel Divus:

“Hm? I see your eyes seem to find my arms rather fascinating, little pup?” The corner’s of his lips quirk in amusement, but the sharpness of his gray blue eyes made his students squeak. It was one of those rare times, Divus had his sleeves rolled over his arms, letting his unruly pups finally take a gander at who their professor soul mate could be. Most, however, made bets if Crowley was his enemy.

But it was bare and pale, the gawking student had found their mouth shut by the aid of a familiar whip pushing up their chin. “Hm, since you seem so fond of being idle, I can keep you busy,” a loud thwap of his whip smacking his gloved hand,” Detention, cauldron duty.”

As a young youth he was rebellious and scrappy in all the ways that come with being a teenager. Always in fashion regardless of how he looks, however it is noted his arms are bare to the world and Divus doesn't care what the world thinks of his unfortunate status.

Frankly, Divus pushes on the importance of it, he hates what it brings on him with expecting eyes and unlike Crowley who hides it— Divus will make you see he doesn't care about what the world thinks. As far as he is concerned, Crewel is standing here with or without a soulmate to his name. With or without you, Divus Crewel is not to be pitied.

Though, it cannot be said he hasn’t beaten a loud mouth punk twice or thrice when entering NRC.

Growing up however, after getting through his angst and anger, Divus accepts it. Maybe he traces over where the name of the person who can push him to capabilities, caresses the bare arm that was supposed to be his soul companion ... .and it takes his dogs covering him to bring him out of that stupor.

He’s obsessive in a way that isn’t easily noticeable, something that reflects in his own outfits, his black and white outfits having a missing half in cufflinks, buttons, or belts. There is a way he walks, still poise and confident that seems to make space for someone who is supposed to be there. One has made the mistake of taking the second glass he has set aside—purposefully or not.

The day you finally had come into his life with a bang, literally as he can describe the sudden burning sensation in his arms that evening, Crewel had finally set up his room. The burst of such power had him kneel over, gripping the sides of his vanity so harshly he broke a chunk of it in his bare hands. It was as if something was being carved into him, not his skin he didn’t notice that but his own soul has been molded. In a hurry, he rips up his sleeve, his cufflinks flying to the corners of his room but that didn’t matter.

His soulmate is here.

Oh when he first meets you, he takes you in. All of you, from the shade of your hair, to the curve of your eyes, the features of what makes you–you. Each note, his mind is already building up the things he can create for you.

You are nothing he expected but that is what thrills him.

What his eyes picked up was your clothes. Well made, and tailored, stylish with personal flares. A fellow fashionista!

The second he brings you to his workshop, he knows—he knows now that all those cliche romance novels he reads when he’s fully alone means it clicks.

He loves the embroidery of your culture that is prevalent in every outfit you make. Bright colors of – pinks, greens, yellows and reds. Everything you make has this brightness to it, eye-catching and so utterly full of pride.

There is a way you speak that is also so different from the Spanish variant he is used to, its more playful, relaxed and a bit cocky.

He’s careful in making sure you settle in Twisted Wonderland, while trying so hard not to prod you for too many questions. Though he does admit, he lingers nearby when he hears you sing in Spanish, the grin you have as you sing something he knows is pretty dirty as it seems the Shaftlands share the latin roots as you call it with French in your world. So don’t think he doesn’t know when you're cursing under your breath!

But he does admire the arsenal of insults you seem to throw on the fly when angered. He saved a video of you perfectly tearing off your sandals to throw it at Crowley for ditching his duties on you both. Three seconds is impressive.

Your fashion taste and his tend to clash, but he loves the way you make your canvas come alive during fashion shows he got you to join in. But the second you and him collaborate on a fashion line together, he sees that drive in you that makes him want to chase.

#twisted wonderland #ask answered #reader insert #disney twisted wonderland #twst #divus crewel x reader #dire crowley x reader #dire crowley #divus crewel #soulmates #twst crowley #twst crewel

153 notes · View notes

shmowder · 6 months ago

Note

Your blog is making me want to replay Patho 2 again... I did play once on the intended difficulty, and then I replayed it afterwards on the easiest settings, doing everything and saving everyone and I'm ngl, that was some of the most fun I've ever had even though it wasn't quite in the spirit of the game haha

The so-called spirit of the game is this senior citizen wirh an overgrown 2000s anime boy haircut who shakes his cane at you sassily when you choose to only swallow a handful of razors as opposed to the razor muckbang the game offers.

I finished the game on the hardest difficulty

This was my first time playing the game ever. I straight up went to the intended difficulty, saved everyone, did everything, and never starved for a single day. I had 20+ Shmowders by the end. I was fully stocked on meat, I was fully stocked on homemade antibiotics and maxed the hospital shift each day.

All of that with only 3 Deaths

WHERE IS MY FUCKING CELEBRATION HUH? WHERE IS MY MEDAL? NO ONE THEW ME A PARTY, NO ONE INVITED BELLA HADID >:( MARK WASN'T IMPRESSED.

Fuck you Mark! ONE OF THOSE DEATHS WAS BULLSHIT YOU DUMB SLUT. YOU SPAWNED A GUY ON TOP OF ME WHILE I WAS PICKING UP HERBS, HOW THE FUCK DID HE ONE SHOT ME WITH FULL HEALTH HUH? YOU WHORE.

What I'm saying is. Look, we both finished the game on complete opposite extremes, yet we're both here. In a pathologic x reader blog on tumblr. We both had fun and shared a good understanding of the plot and characters. That's what matters. Everything else is just people patting themselves on the shoulder. You're the only one who will be impressed with the fact you beat the game flawlessly, and you're the only one who will be bothered by the fact you picked an easier difficulty

Because it's really not that different. To me, I have the kind of autism that makes games like pathologic smoother than water for me, I thrived on the ruthlessness of dark soul and did a no death run in darkest dungeon. But also. I absolutely suck at casual games, I can't play Stardew Valley unless I'm fully cheating, I can't for the life of me beat a single platforming game because I have a slow reaction speed.

Play Pathologic however you want! Ice-pick Joe isn't gonna pop from under your bed at 3am to beat you up with hammers. This is coming from the most tryhard difficulty elitism person there is in games.

Buttttt. I do recommend giving Pathologic classic HD a try. I promise anyone who beat Pathologic 2 on ANY difficultly will cuck tf out of the first game. There is no thirst! The vendors have unlimited money, and you can sell all of your trash to them! THE ECONOMY IS THRIVING I BOUGHT FOOD ON THE DAYS THE PRICES WERE SKYROCKETING BC I COULD AFFORD IT. I would've never financially recovered from buying food in P2 on any day that's not the first one. In P1, I rarely slept because I was deepthroating lemons and snorting coffee beans day and night since I could easily afford the health/hunger penalty.

Meanwhile, in P2, I'd save coffee beans to sell to get enough money to save up for army clothes.

The combat is so forgiving, the houses with good loot aren't the infected ones like in P2 but the burned ones! The AI in that game is so stupid you can trick plague clouds into disappearing if you stand still! You can glitch and jump over fences to take shortcuts through the town! YOU CAN SCAM THAT CUNT ANDREY STAMATIN FOR ENDLESS SHOTGUNS.

Lastly don't forget that 90% of the Pathologic fandom haven't even played any of the games at all. 70% probably never watched a single playthrough either and just video essays instead.

In the steam version of Pathologic 2, Only 10% of players who bought the game have ever reached the end.

10% !!! That's us there! Me and You! It doesn't matter how what matters is that we both did it while 90% of people gave up.

And the situation in the classic game is even more dire tbh-

Only 6% ever opened the game and made it through the first day. Only 3% ever made it to the last day.

So, really good on you for finishing the game! Good on me for finishing the game! WE DID IT! YAY! Someone really should give Bella Hadid a call.

Also, please do yourself a favour and ignore whatever the video essayist says about the difficulty of the games. They're good storytellers for building an interesting narrative to watch, but they're not good at videogames assessment. Each of their reasons is very personalised by their own experience and doesn't necessarily mean other people will struggle with the same issues. Don't listen to anyone who tells you picking an easy difficulty ruins the game either, Pathologic doesn't relay on its brutal gameplay to shine, it can more stand on its own as a narrative story walking game. If anything, it would probably shine better on easier difficulties when you have time to dig for context clues and plot without starvation breathing down your neck. I missed some flavour text quests because I was too stressed about balancing different objectives to do them or pay attention when something important was said.

#♧other #Pathologic 2 #pathologic classic hd #pathologic

43 notes · View notes

gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan · 3 months ago

Text

Your Touch, So Hot

Author’s note: More of Petras in Divergence au. @kit-williams and I were talking about this horrible Hypocrite of a Chaplain marine and collabed this thing.

Summary: Petras and his Bonded get hot, heavy, and sexy.

Warnings: Smut. Mild bdsm? Public-ish play. They are in his private office and fuck. Let me know if I need to add anything else

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @ms--lobotomy , @thevoidscreams, @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Petras pets her head as she licks and services him. His hand tight around the leash as he keeps an impassive face while she pleases him. Two hands on his cock as she takes as much as she can in her mouth.

"Be a good girl for me," he whispers as you open up your blouse showing that pretty black and white lacey lingerie he got for you.

You nervously look at the door before getting to your knees as he mutters a prayer for you since you do not know them well enough. He wipes away some tears as you take as much of him as you can.

Wet eyes looking up at him as you suck on his cock. You had been uncertain, when he'd started talking about having sex in the Space Marine Base.

You'd talked about your worries and concerns about how badly it could affect him and you, at least socially, among other concerns that you'd had.

He'd listened to you, with that intensely focused way that made you all tingly on the inside. He'd spoken of the safe guards they could put in place to ensure that things wouldn't go too far.

And ensure that if they were 'caught' it would be by Arnault and Angela- as the pair of them had done a lot of fun parallel play with them.

That had eased your concerns. Petras gestured with one of his hands. He'd ensured that the door to his office was locked, and that he had a 'do not disturb, Important Chaplain-patient Session happening' is in place.

"Such a good girl... You look so beautiful like this." He whispers petting your face and then your neck feeling the way the muscles move as you take more of him. "Going to keep you under my desk pretty thing."

Your face flushes in pleasure at his praise- his deep husky voice does things to you when he whispers praise in your ear. You love how dark his eyes get when he's full of lust for you.

He pinches one of your nipples cause you to whine, "Shh shh none of that a little pain is good for the body and the soul... I'm certain your ass is still tender from this morning."

You pout up at him as best you can, through the sting of pain. It wasn't your favorite thing, and you had asked him to limit as much as possible the pain play. Which he usually agreed to.

He sniffs the air licking his upper teeth, "I can smell you... I bet the pretty little thong you're wearing is riding uncomfortably huh? "

You nod at him, it was uncomfortable, your bottom was still red and stinging from the spanking that you had received from Petras. He'd asked you to wear a sexy little set of lingerie that he'd made in black and white.

Your mind goes back to why your thong feels uncomfortable against your ass and cunt. The feeling of Petras's hand against your ass as he spanked it.

You had seen the intense hungry way that he'd looked at you, as he watched you put on the lingerie. He'd moved so fast, that it was within a blink of an eye that you'd finished wearing the outfit and you were suddenly on your belly.

You were over Petras's knee as his hand spanked your ass and you whined, your tits bouncing and rubbing against his hard cock as he growled out words in Astartes-talk that you couldn't understand.

You whined and wriggled and pleaded for mercy, you had worn what he wanted, and he seemed... frustrated, despite you wearing what he had requested.

He had done a half hearted apology after he was done spanking you. His hands massaging your tits the way you like... still not answering for his sudden shift of mood. You look up at him again as his fist is against his cheek just pupils dilated as he took in all of the little details.

"Oh You're too good for me" He says in high gothic... as he pulls himself out of your mouth before pushing his cock between your tits and cumming with just a grunt. "You're going to be the death of me my dear." He says in English with a sigh.

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #warhammer #space marine husbandry #adeptus astartes #oc: petras #reader #reader insert #tw: Smut #nsft #Divergence AU

27 notes · View notes

lettersfromaphrodite · 1 year ago

Text

[10.50]

― pairing : Han Jisung x fem! reader ― content warnings : smut, fluff, grease! au - therefore it's the 50's, unprotected sex (wrap it up y’all) ― word count : 3.752 ― notes : my kinks got worse since the last time you saw me

― notes : this fic looks familiar?it is! I’m reposting ALL my works on this brand new blog and therefore please, bear with me! as always, askbox is always open and feedbacks are always welcome 💌

🕺 GREASE! STRAY KIDS SERIES

Chris part one | part two // Changbin // Jisung // Hyunjin // Seungmin // Minho // Felix // Jeongin

Jisung was so rich it was almost unbelievable. His father owned the majority of the shops and diners in the town you lived in, resulting in him living in a huge mansion with a lot of butlers and maids. Jisung also threw the best parties, had a convertible comfortable car and always had the best weed.

At least, this is what your best friend always said; since all you did was steal longing glances at him from afar, hoping that he’d somehow – magically, take the hint.

«You should come to one of his parties sometimes. I could also introduce to the others Stray Kids!» she said, fixing her lipstick. «Who knows, maybe you’ll finally listen to me and become a Pink.»

You giggled, gently nudged your shoulder against hers. «As if!»

«Oh, come on!» she affectionately linked your arms together. «You and me, Pink Ladies! Can you imagine the fun we’d have?»

«Maybe in our next life. There’s no way I’m going back being a Pink.» you sighed, smiling at her as you reminisced your actions of focusing on your cheeseburger. «I’ve tried that, and I definitely didn’t like it.» you mumbled, before taking a big bite on your food. Few years earlier, you have been the Pink Lady of another boy in another group, even before Stray Kids became popular.

Long story short? Many - too many, tears wasted on someone who was definitely not worth it. You friends quickly re-adjusted her position on the red leather couch as you both heard the bells of the Frosty Palace’s entrance door ring loudly.

“Talk about the Devil…” You thought as your friend waved at Stray Kids, which waved back with loud greetings before heading towards their usual sitting spot.

You both finished your dinner quietly; going back talking about school and you could not help but once again steal some quick glances to the boys’ table. Jisung had always caught your attention, but you did not want to fuel the fire in your friend’s soul, otherwise she would never stop rambling about them. Sometimes, your stealth glances at Jisung would be reciprocated, and each time your eyes met, you would quickly advert your gaze with cheeks flaming red.

A soft tap on your shoulder caught your attention, and you turned your head to meet your friend’s knowingly smile, her grin erupting around the straw of her milkshake as she softly nudged your thigh with her knee.

«Become a Pink,» she whispered again «I could set you up with Seungmin, he’s tall and-» her speech was interrupted by a waiter which placed a tall glass of strawberry milkshake right in front of you. Milkshake you definitely did not order, since you already bought yourself to drink earlier.

«I believe there must be a mistake…» you shyly told the waiter «I didn’t order for this.»

The waiter politely smiled at you, before shaking his head «Han paid for you.» you furrowed your brows in confusion while you friend shrieked next to you, quickly grabbing your forearm, and the waiter pointed towards the counter with a nod.

Jisung was staring at you, partially leaning against the counter with a smug smile plastered on his face. You were sure you blushed as soon as your eyes met; main reason why you immediately averted your gaze as quickly as you have been burned by a wild flame.

«She’ll take it. Thank you so much. And also, say thank you to Jisung on her behalf.» your friend quickly answered before you could even process your thoughts and try to answer him that “No, thank you”, and the waiter quickly returned to his ministrations without sparing the both of you another glance.

«Han Jisung offered you a drink.» your friend’s voice was somewhere in between an excited shriek and a whisper-yell, her hand still firmly gripping on your arm.

«It’s… It’s a milkshake.» you clarified, trying to avoid looking in the general direction of the counter, even if you could still feel Jisung’s piercing stare on your skin.

«I don’t think you get the point.» she ignored your answer, «Han Jisung never buys girls anything.»

This random and unusual gesture turned into a definitive habit. Days turned into weeks, Jisung would sometimes offer you to drink, sometimes directly pay for your dinner and leaving you a confused, flustered and blushing mess anytime the cashier would say «Han already paid for you.»

Eventually, both your best friend and the rest of Stray Kids got tired about the two of you silently longing at each other from a safe distance, and you found yourself sitting with them.

Hanging around with them was fun; you had to admit your best friend was right. They all looked so incredibly badass but once you got to know them, you realized that they were also so incredibly dumb and funny. You honestly enjoyed hanging out with them.

You and Jisung got closer, becoming those kind of friends acting shy around each other because they are too dumb to make the first move. Jisung was a total sweetheart, despite his looks, and him being so naturally loud and funny but also a genuine listener made your crush for him steady grow each passing day. Jisung also never stopped treating you, despite you telling that it was okay, you could pay for yourself but he would just smile and shrug it off.

You did not exactly mind that, you found that new routine quite relaxing. The thought of confessing your feelings to Jisung sometimes came to your mind and wandered there for quite few time, but eventually, you settled for not making a fool of yourself, since no matter all the times he referred to you as “the girl I have a crush on”, you still feared rejection.

«You should definitely come to Jisung’s party, tonight.» you friend told you, bursting into your house. «And by “you should”, I mean, “I’m going to dress you up and drag you there, if I have to”»

Something you had witnessed along your long years of friendship was: your friend did not lie. She did not drag you to the party, but she convinced you to. You spent the first part of the night enjoying the chill night breeze while sitting on the couches of the house’s veranda, a blue plastic cup filled with punch and slowly swaying to the rhythm of the slow songs played by Jisung’s jukebox. Someone plopped on the couch right next to you, a familiar and pleasing whiff of cologne invading your senses.

«There you are, angel.» a deep voice said, «I thought you’d never come.» you could feel the fact that Jisung was smiling, even if you weren’t looking at him, yet.

«My friend dragged me here.» you stated, taking a small sip from your drink.

«Oh, so you didn’t come here to see me?» his voice was filled with disappointment, as he playfully lifted his hand on his heart and pretending to be deeply hurt. You deduced to be already intoxicated by the alcohol because you giggled at him, turning around to finally look him in the eyes.

Jisung was handsome, he had always been, but there was something about him being so close to you that made him look even more breath taking. His hair was neatly styled, his black leather jacket draped around his shoulders and the white shirt he was wearing was so dangerously low cut that you could see his sharp collarbones. You were just about to take notice about how his cologne was so good when you snapped out of your small trance to see him looking at you with his stupid smug smirk and a pleased expression.

“I should really learn how to be subtle,” you thought quickly, quietly sipping from your cup to distract yourself – and having an excuse to look away from his enchanting bronze skin.

«I see my crush is required, then.» Jisung reached out to mumble right against your ear, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. Your breath hitched for a moment, and you turned around to look at him, your noses almost touching.

«And in what parallel universe,» you took a small pause, licking your lips and noticing him following the movement of your tongue. «Could Han Jisung have a crush on me?» you held his gaze, somehow hoping for him to close the distance between the two of you.

«This one! Science sure works fast these days.» Jisung answered with a sweet smile, before leaning back and getting up from the couch. You looked at him, hoping that he would not notice how dumbfounded you were by his sudden actions as he stood in front of you, offering you a hand. «Come on,» Jisung nodded towards his entrance door. «Let’s go and have a bit of fun.» with a nod, you smiled, and reached out to take his hand.

You were not new to the world of parties, getting drunk and smoking – after all, you have been a Pink too once, but you never thought you could do it again while actually having fun. Neither you nor Jisung actually got too high or too wasted; you were both slightly tipsy. He would spend the majority of the night with his arm around your hips while you talked with the others – his friends always randomly saying how the two of you would make a cute couple and Jisung immediately shutting them up, or with his hands tightly wrapped around your waist as you danced together.

«Well, angel.» the grip around your waist tightened, as you both slowly swayed to the rhythm of a slow song playing by the jukebox. The room was full of people, naturally drawing your bodies closer to each other. «I would really love to kiss you, right now.» he was speaking right by your ear, so that you could perfectly hear every word he said. You were about to ask him why he didn’t do it, when he chuckled before adding, «But we’re too tipsy, and I want to make this right.» you felt his teeth grazing the lobe of your ear, and you instinctively hugged his body a bit closer.

«Why, Jisung.» you said, mirroring his actions, «Do you plan to see me again?»

Thanks to the loud music making each conversation almost inaudible, you kept sharing this secret conversation while hugging each other close. Jisung’s soft breath against your skin suddenly making your knees weak.

«Of course. I plan to take you on a good amount of dates,» you felt him nod, while his right hand travelled upwards from your waist until it tangled itself into your hair. «And fuck you so deep and slow with your head pressed against the mattress until you’d beg me to ruin you.» You shut your eyes close as he almost moaned in your ear the unexpected last part, trying not to get aroused in a room full of people. «But we’ll have to talk about this another time.» Jisung slightly parted from you, meeting your gaze.

You were about to stand on your tiptoes and capture his lips when your friend tapped your shoulder, reminding you of the curfew you both had. Jisung kissed your cheek – dangerously close to your lips, before saying goodbye to the both of you.

The ride back was full of screams and excited squeals because, of course you told your best friend everything that happened earlier.

«He finally asked you on a date? Jisung?» your friend questioned, before excitedly squealing. «I knew it was just a matter of time!» she kept yelping, focusing on the road but also throwing your arm few soft, delicate punches in a rapid succession.

You ran a hand through your hair, giggling at your friend’s behaviour as small; butterflies hovered around in your stomach.

You hated Han Jisung. Well, it was definitely not true; you hated yourself for spending the entire breakfast daydreaming about him, resulting in you being awfully late for school.

You closed your locker, hastily walking towards your first class. You were alone in the hallways, busy wondering how could you lose time like that, when a hand suddenly reached out and dragged you to the stairs. You were ready to drop you book and kick the person who did it right between his legs when your gaze met Jisung’s apologising eyes.

«Jisung! What got into you?!» you lightly shoved him, your hand on his toned chest; with a scoff, you placed your hand on your heart, in the vain hope for your heartbeat to slow down. The thing was, both because of the scare and Jisung being so close to you, you didn’t think it would happen soon.

The boy adverted his gaze, mumbling a shy «I’m sorry,» before scratching the back of his head and releasing your arm from his strong grip. «The thing is, I really wanted to talk to you.»

“What if he regrets what he did yesterday?” you kept staring at him, silently urging him to go on, and feeling somehow a bit anxious.

«I’m sorry. For yesterday, I mean.» his voice reached your ears and your stomach sank; unable to meet his gaze, you stared at the floor. «The thing is, I might have said something a bit earlier than I planned to.»

“Earlier?” You furrowed your brows to look at him, confused. Jisung sighed, heavily. He looked so frustrated, as if you could not understand some simple and obvious concept, when he went on. «I do honestly mean what I said: I really want to take you on dates. I also really want to fuck you into oblivion but, maybe I might have said it a little bit earlier-»

Now, If someone were ever to tell you that Han Jisung would stand in front of you, ranting about him giving you the wrong impression, you’d never believe them.

Moreover, most importantly, if someone were to tell you that you would interrupt his stupid rant with a kiss, you’d never believe them. However, there you were, standing on your tiptoes and balancing yourself with a hand on Jisung’s shoulder to softly peck his lips. You giggled at his expression, his eyes wide and his lips in a confused pout, he looked incredibly cute.

«Jisung, trust me, I want the same.» your kind smile was suddenly matched by his, and he leaned down to finally capture your lips in a soft kiss, searching for one another anytime you parted in order to breathe. You didn’t quite realise when those soft nibbles and shy kisses while lovesick grins were plastered on your faces turned into you being pushed against the wall with Jisung’s head buried in your neck and his right arm supporting your left leg around his waist, but the presence of his left hand in front of your mouth in order to muffle your whine as he loudly sucked on your jaw brought you back to the cruel reality.

«Jis-Jisung» you stuttered, whimpers blocking the words from falling from your lips as you’d want to, but his hot mouth on your skin was just so sinful and so perfect, you almost ignored the fact that you could be caught anytime and be in trouble. «Class. We-We’re still at school.» With a groan, Jisung pulled away from your neck, his lips hovering above yours.

«School literally started two days ago, it’s nothing important.» he mumbled, pushing his body on yours. «Let’s skip. Let’s go to my place, angel.» his eyes blown with lust - mirroring yours, and his boner pressed on your inner thigh made you nod at him without thinking further.

Jisung smiled, parting from you. «And then, let’s go on a date.» he took your hand in his as you scoffed, hiding a smile as you nodded once again. You quietly and hurriedly made your way out of the school and into his red, shiny car.

«Is it okay to go to my house?» he looked at you, starting the car.

Since when do you ask to a hook-up?» you raised an eyebrow, provoking him.

«Since you’re not a hook-up, angel.»

As your hand reached out to intertwine with his above the gear change, you felt butterflies in your stomach once again, happy with the feeling that the boy that you have secretly stole glances at for quite few months, admitted to have a crush on you.

«You live in a castle, Jisung. This is not a house.» you looked around in awe at your surroundings, as he quickly leaded you to his bedroom. «Wait, look at this!» you pulled on his hand, forcing him to stop in front of a painting that caught your attention. He sighed - you could even picture him rolling his eyes, and he let go of your hand.

«You can have a detailed tour of my house later, angel.» was all you could hear before, all of a sudden, your perspective of the world turned upside down. Jisung had effortlessly thrown you over his shoulder, and you laughed at his ministrations, softly but repeatedly smacking his butt and repeating a series of «Jisung, let me down!» which you never actually meant in the first place.

He did throw you down, though. On his bed. As you bounced on the fluffy mattress you saw something green fly all around you, some of them even landing on you.

“Money?” you took a green banknote in your hand, while pushing few others away from your stomach.

«Is there some weird kink I need to be aware of?» you propped on your elbows, throwing few banknotes at a smiling Jisung, which was still standing and towering over you.

He laughed, shaking his head. «I needed to buy something, I forgot the cash I needed on the bed.» his knees now were next to your waist, as he sat on your lap, reaching out to put his hands next to your head, caging you as he balanced his weight.

«And now I’m lying on them,» you mumbled as his lips attached once again to your jawline.

«Do you think I care about money having wrinkles?» he mumbled, smirking against your skin as he balanced himself on his left hand while his hand ghosted over your frame, his fingers looping in the belt loops of your jeans.

«What about… Other stains?» you breathed, your left hand scratching his slightly exposed waist.

«Is there some weird kink I need to be aware of?» the breathless chuckle you felt on your skin made you scratch him even harder out of reflex, and you felt pleased with yourself as he instinctively hissed and grinded against you.

You never had any particular kink - actually, you had, but you had never considered appealing the idea of being fucked on a bed with a big amount of banknotes scattered under your body. Yet, there you were. You both left the foreplay at minimum and now, Jisung was thrusting into you, deep and slow while your head was pressed against the mattress, just as he promised the night before.

You learned pretty quickly that Jisung was loud also in bed, and you absolutely loved it. Hearing his moans mixed with the feeling of his breath hitch against your skin as he kissed your spine, the fact that he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, and his languid thrusts filling you so perfectly was making that marvellous sensation pool into your abdomen. You whimpered as a particular harsh thrust made you grip the blankets next your head even tighter – furtherly wrinkling some banknotes along, and you felt his firm grip on your hips; Jisung repeated the action before staying still inside you for few seconds. And again, and again.

He was purposely keeping his movements slow and teasing, so that you could feel every inch of his pulsing length move out of you, just to shove it right back.

As your moans deliciously filled the room, you gave in, whispering the magic words: «Ruin me, Jisung.» His grip on your waist tightened, as he heard you clench around him with a chocked moan.

«Took you long enough, angel.» he said, with a cocky voice before yanking you upwards by your hair, pulling your back flush against his body. As his thrusts gained speed and intensity, both his hands snaked around your hips: his left one wandered on your chest and pinched your left nipple before firmly gripping your breast in a firm hold, and his right one caressed his way until he pressed his index finger against your clit, trying to match the now messy pace of his thrusts which were making the both of you approach your orgasms.

You turned your head, meeting his lips in a hot, uncoordinated kiss, your right hand locking in his hair with a tight grip and your left hand’s nails sinking into his thigh. Jisung came with a loud moan, his hips stilling deep inside of you and instinctively holding you tighter against his body. He kept moving his hand, so that you’d follow him almost immediately later, the sensation of your orgasm spreading inside your body and relaxing your muscles.

You came back to your senses feeling Jisung’s soft kisses on your shoulders, as he slowly slipped out of you, your mixed releases actually staining few banknotes below you. The both of you plopped on the bed, giggling together as green money floated around you once again – since you both threw yourself back on the bed, and Jisung shifted until he was hugging you into his chest, your head resting below his neck and your fingertips delicately caressing his body.

«How about we go to the drive in?» He said, casually, as he played with a strand of your hair.

«Shouldn’t we go eat something before that? What time is it?» You sighed, closing your eyes as you felt Jisung reach out for his watch on the nightstand.

«10.50» he said, «Let’s sleep a little bit more.» he tried to roll you around, pouting at you.

«30 minutes, then we’ll take a shower and go eat lunch.» you answered dismissively as you let Jisung turn you around, so that now he was the one with his head in the crook of your neck, and you hugged him closer, playing with his hair.

«As you wish, angel.» you felt his soft breath anticipating an open mouthed kiss on your neck, before you both doze off with content smiles.

all works © lettersfromaphrodite

Do not modify, repost, translate or plagiarize my stories. I only publish my works on tumblr & AO3.

↳ BACK TO NAVIGATION 💫 ↳ BACK TO MASTERLIST 🔮

#fanfics #kpop fanfic #stray kids scenarios #han jisung scenarios #stray kids au #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x y/n #han jisung x y/n #han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #greaser au

221 notes · View notes

yatagarasuhonyaku · 2 months ago

Text

Pledge of Loyalty (Novel Translation)

Blog version

Context: Takes place at the ending of Golden Raven, giving some further background for the following story.

This scene concludes the set of isolated scenes I consider necessary for upcoming plot developments. The Prologue to Raven of the Empty Coffin will release after this.

“A True Kin’u exists to protect Yamauchi, is that right?”

All of Yamauchi. In other words, the very same place Yukiya wanted to protect: his homeland. Wakamiya looked at him, blinking slowly before finally opening his mouth.

“The True Kin’u is the progenitor of all Yatagarasu. Which means that—yes, that’s correct.”

For a while, Yukiya simply stood there watching the night scenery until, finally, he turned to Wakamiya. He could see the white bandages depressingly peeking out from under Wakamiya’s light purple kimono.

Yukiya steeled his resolve.

“Your Highness. As I thought, I’m not suited for all the hassle of the Imperial Court. Besides, I’ll always have the option of using the On’i System, yes, but I don’t really believe that many Yatagarasu would choose to follow me if I were to obtain power in such a way.”

Unshaken by the sudden change in topic, Wakamiya urged him to continue. “Then, what are you going to do?”

“I’ll enter the Yamauchi Guard,” Yukiya said with clear resolve, “I’m certain I’ll need the strength to properly wait upon you. And, above anything else, I don’t want to be a liability to you ever again.”

Upon hearing that, Wakamiya let out a chuckle. A puzzled look in his eyes.

“If you plan to become a Yamauchi Guard and get assigned to me through sheer skill alone, you’ll need to graduate from the Unbending Reed Monastery at the top of your class. Even in the worst case scenario, you’ll have to be second.”

The Monastery was the training facility for the Yamauchi Guard. As candidates for high ranking military officers, the skilled young boys gathered there went through very strict training. Only those with a brilliant record were allowed to join the Guard and be tasked with protecting the Imperial Family. Even among those that overcame the training, few got to actually join the ranks.

‘Do you know what you’re getting into?’ An indirect question.

“I’m aware,” Yukiya replied with no hesitation.

“Are you confident you can do it, then?”

“I don’t take on challenges I have no chances of winning,” Yukiya affirmed with certainty. His gaze, now possessed a strength and sharpness it never had before, moved up towards the man standing beside him. “Lord Natsuka was right all along. To protect you is to protect my homeland. What’s important to you and what’s important to me: it was the same from the very start. If it’s to protect Yamauchi, then I shall devote and dedicate everything I have to you.”

Ever so slowly, Yukiya kneeled and lowered his head as far as he could. “Your Majesty, the True Kin’u, I humbly implore you. From here on, I, Yukiya of Taruhi, shall swear my fealty to you until my life ends, my body rots, and the very last fragment of my soul is gone.”

“Right.”

Wakamiya, who had waited patiently until Yukiya had finished talking, sighed and casually raised one arm. All of a sudden, that one arm alone transformed into a wing. It grew in length like a young tree would, fingers elongating as the sound of black feathers covering them filled the air. Wakamiya gently placed this dazzling black wing over the prostrating Yukiya.

“…… One day, you’ll probably be the man that I’ll call my right hand. However, you’ll surely face all kinds of pain and suffering because of that status. If it is ever necessary, I’ll have no choice but to abandon you to your fate. I can’t promise to always be the best master to you. Despite that, will you still pledge your loyalty to me?”

“Yes,” Yukiya answered, “I implore you, concede me the honor of being one of your men.”

“I was waiting for those words,” the True Kin’u laughed with clear satisfaction.

——And yet, there was loneliness in it too.

Year Eight of the Gentle Raven, the Sixth Month of the Lunar Calendar.

The invasion of the human-eating Monkeys came to its peaceful conclusion with the imprisonment of the traitors and the blockage of their invasion route. Upon learning of the existence of the ‘Passages’ around the Central Mountain, the Imperial Court organized a massive search, but they were incapable of finding any other such route. Although still oblivious of the Monkeys’ true nature, the Yatagarasu recovered their peace for a time.

In the spring of the following year, Yukiya of Taruhi requested entrance to the Unbending Reed Monastery as planned. Due to the Monkeys’ appearance, there were far more candidates than any other year, yet he managed to pass the entrance exams with outstanding results even among his peers.

It would be three more years until the Yatagarasu would face the Monkeys again.

#yatagarasu #yatagarasu series #the raven does not choose its master #karasu wa aruji wo erabanai #isolated scene

24 notes · View notes

bluemoon1331 · 6 months ago

Text

Hello, hello! Welcome to my main blog, where the DCA fascination consumes! My alt blog is @sharetheartman, go check it out if you wanna see the amazing art this community has to offer!

My Ko-fi (if you're able to help a struggling writer, very much appreciated. Can request written commissions if you want): BlueMoon1331

Below is a list of all my current fics on A03 and planned AUs! Give them a read if you love fantasy and the DCA! (Updated to divide between the SFW and NSFW stories)

<<<<<First up, the SFW section!>>>>>>

Finished Works:

One Lost Star- You are a bit of a hermit, living solo off the land since the death of your grandfather. Until you draw certain godly attention, that is.

Scarlet Masquerade- The sole heir to your kingdom, you find yourself caught in the tangled web of the automaton emperor's plans. However, things are about to go from bad to worse when you catch the interest of the deadly automaton assassin sent to end you.

WIPs:

Cosmic Journeys- Trapped in the depths of depression, you seek an unfortunate out. The nearby land owner won't let that happen, though. Thus begins a journey of self-worth and finding hope in a world of madness and compassion, monsters, saints, and everything in between.

Come and Go- A Megamind-inspired AU with Sun as Metroman, Moon as Megamind, and Eclipse as Titan, while you are a delivery driver caught in the middle.

Unusual- An oceanographer, there is no place you'd rather be than scouring the depths of the seven seas, studying its plant life and creatures, in particular the infamous mers, beings most of your co-workers are quite wary of. They don't seem to mind you too much, though, a fact you try not to put stock in until an encounter on the beach near your house flips your entire world upside down. Strings of fate and a battle to rule the oceans with you as the key? Ridiculous. Right?

Of Metal Parts and Roadside Shenanigans- You are a trucker traveling home before unwittingly tripping headfirst into a giant mystery. (More of @deceptiveshadow's Blood Moon cause I love him and cannot help myself.)

One-shots:

Party Crashing 101- A piece inspired by the mafia episode from Helluva Boss. Badass, protective reader ftw XD

Blooming In Adversity- You and the princesses were great friends in your youth, until you had to move away. Years later, you return, your friendship blooming anew. However, dark plots turn in the background, and it may be up to just you to save them.

Phantom Tide- You are a siren, crushed under betrayal. Sun and Moon are brothers recovering from the throes of grief. Perhaps you may be just what each other need.

Connotations- Your duties as a druid are fairly life-consuming, but you have happily devoted yourself to them. Keeping the peace is not the easiest, but you do it all the same. Unfortunately, the arrival of contesting priests threaten your efforts, setting you on a collision course to meet three of the forest's most powerful caretakers.

Diamonds and Iron- Being a rather big-time mafia boss, of course Eclipse needs places to stash away his income. As an outdoor enthusiast, you love visiting the local motorsports arena when you can afford it. Oh, who's that standing in the middle of the track, where you can't see?

Birds of a Feather- You are stuck as the basically powerless manager to the newly opened pizzaplex. With problems everywhere you look, you're not sure which one to focus on or handle first. Perhaps you could find a kindred soul in a certain mechanic, however. (Based in the EAPS universe)

<<<<<<<<<NSFW area ahoy!>>>>>>>>>>

Finished Works:

Never Play Cat and Mouse With Vampires- Living alone is a necessity, your skills in hunting, magic, and evasion giving you all you need for contentment, or so you tell yourself. In your newest home you, unfortunately, find that your capabilities only draw the infatuation of three local creatures that are intent to finally capture you and make you theirs. Annoyingly, they may just get that chance.

Dancing In Orbit- The lunar vampire is the last of his kind, a deadly plague on the Earth that refuses to yield despite the uncountable years that have passed since the last of his kin and kind died off. You, running from your intertwined past, seek to finally put an end to that, with some help from friends old and new.

Familiar Constellations- The vampires get a bit quirky about you, especially when you egg them on. Mature. Very, very mature. Good gods they are rough, but you love it. After all, you can get a bit rough with them, too.

Gravity- Featuring another of @deceptiveshadow's lovely OCs, Nova. Normally quite the quiet and cat-like companion, you join him for a round of games in which his behavior becomes increasingly odd. That's nothing compared to when you strangely wake in the tower the next day, having no recollection of how you got there, and what comes after.

WIPs:

Embers and Ash- Ghost hunting is your profession, and you are damn good at it. Which is why you don't think twice when you're hired to cleanse an abandoned mansion of its otherworldly resident. Too bad this job is not the cake walk you thought it would be.

Burning Stars- You run your farm alone on a world teeming with aliens and humans, content with your animal family and helpful community, even if you keep the latter at arm's lengths. Until your peace is interrupted by a certain intergalactic bounty hunter, anyway.

Rosewood's Serenade- The eldest child of your kingdom, you have trained since birth to be all your home needs and more, intent to take the throne when the time comes, marriage or no. However, your parents harbor a secret, a deal struck when disaster threatened to destroy all they hold dear, and you soon find yourself meeting a most intriguing being...

Demonic- The saying of Hell is empty for all the demons are here has never been more apt. Caught smack dab in the middle of the infamous Hell-Day event, you come out with an unexpected passenger woven into your soul. Now, you secretly fight to preserve the fragile balance between mortals and the demons trapped on Earth, all while contending with the fact your new neighbors are the very ones responsible for sealing the gates, the infamous Celestial Graces. They also happen to be the mortal enemies of the one currently living in you. Fun times all around, especially with devil himself on your heels, seeking to reclaim what he lost.

Along the Akesh- Blessed with visions since your youth, you were taken and raised by the temple, becoming one of the highest-ranked priests, second to only the grand heijut himself. With an awe-inspiring festival and ritual that happens only once every five centuries under way, you are eager to meet the moon god, one of the many you have had the pleasure of conversing with throughout your prayers and oracles, in person. Things take an unexpected turn, however, when the temple must pay recompense for an accidental screw up with a gift left by an old friend. You are about to learn just how intrigued you and the moon god truly are with each other.

One-shots:

Bleeding Feathers- You weren't supposed to go into the exclusionary zone, but that's never been a problem for you before. This time, however, you might just get more than you bargained for. Fan piece for @deceptiveshadow's harpy au! (Not TSAMS)

Color Theory- Moving back to your late grandma's cabin, you pray for things to finally settle down. Unfortunately, her myriad of secrets seek to come back and haunt you, but hey, it might not be all bad this time. You could use the comfort of an old friend. Another fic inspired by @deceptiveshadow! Their god Blood Moon this time. (Not TSAMS)

<<<<<<<Lastly, miscellaneous potential AUs!>>>>>>>

Lich King AU- With the three realms in shambles, cut off from each other, it is up to the most powerful warriors of Earth to fend off the lich king and his Elite army, including his own brothers. You, whom offers them a secret safe haven and relaxation when they need it, cannot deny your love for Sun and Moon, nor they you, but with Eclipse hounding for any weakness he can use against his kin, is the danger really worth it? You find the answer may be coming sooner than you would like when the two go missing after a fight.

Spirited Away AU- You have moved to a more remote region in hopes of forgetting a troubled family life. Content to spend your time among the lush jungles of the land, you inadvertently stumble upon an obviously long-forgotten temple. Curiosity eats at you, and you cannot help get closer, initially unaware of the myriad of eyes watching you, until you spot...an icy blue leopard? It's a good thing you helped those snakes and that spider on your way here.

Harem AU- You saved them from certain death, and now the clan of vampire brothers serve you. For years uncountable, you have pulled the strings, quite happy to cause chaos around the world when it becomes too dull for your liking, going from hero to hero. On blood soaked ground, you are content with your helpful vampires, though can things really stay the same forever?

Skyrim AU- Every place has its demons, no matter how reclusive or small. You consider yourself one of them. Seeking an escape, you move to Solstheim hoping for a fresh start. How unfortunate for you that you would arrive during the island's darkest hour. Cults, strange creatures, a frost giant king, and the arrival of two Dragonborns drag you right back into the spotlight, dredging up your past as you all race against time and the greedy daedra of knowledge to stop each other's destruction.

Then There Was One- You wake up to an empty world. You don't comprehend how or why it happened, just that everyone seems to have vanished in the blink of an eye. Cars sit vacant in traffic, meals left uneaten, internet full of messages that abruptly stopped hours ago. You try to live on your lonesome, keeping yourself distracted, and ignoring the gnawing loneliness. Except, well, you might not be as alone as you think, a fact you find out far too late when your page gets flooded with AI messages and bots are suddenly knocking at your day. Just what the hell kind of universal joke was this robot apocalypse you were stuck in? Or...do you have this all wrong? Your new companions may yet help you figure it out.

50 notes · View notes

rokishimizu4 · 3 months ago

Text

Signal’s Fast Food Adventure

(I’m gonna be finishing up the BatFam headcannons on my tumblr, then take a small break before starting my actual BatFam story on my AO3, as I’m gonna be starting my new job soon and I need to get it into my routine. Doesn’t mean that I’ll quit posting, but I’ll be posting on my other blog more than on this one.) (Also, Reader is small and has those soul stealing gray/blue eyes, you’re welcome)

To say that Duke was so happy to be stuck on the day shift due to his powers and such would be undermining the sheer wiliness of Tim, who can barley stay awake during meetings on a good day, to replace him for an entire week after the spider incident.

Duke, while facing worse things than a giant spider that wasn’t even gonna hurt anyone, had allowed Tim to join him. Not because he was terrified that Tim would find someway to get him to agree, like putting a fake spider in his bed or something, certainly not.

But he was incredibly thankful when Tim returned to the night shift. Not that his brother was bad at being a daytime bat, but Duke knows that the daytime rouges would appreciate not getting a double dose of roasting from two bats (One bat bringing up mommy issues was enough, thank you)

Plus, the daytime rouges were polite enough not to attack during lunch rush (As the line to any fast food place, not to mention restaurant and gas stations, were packed with already hangry people) and mostly tried to pull off a few bank robberies instead of trying to blow shit up.

Speaking of the lunch rush, Signal sits down on the roof ledge overlooking some of the fast food places/ Restaurants that busy rouges and Gothamites frequently stop to grab a quick bite to eat (That a few tourists go to as well if they’re brave enough), and waits a good half an hour before making his way down once the crowd thins out enough that he could get in and out without being recognized. (Hopefully)

He waits a bit more, until he notices that someone was stepping out of the Batburger and placed a sign out a bit away, then turning back and going back in.

Signal smiles to himself, before dropping down onto the empty sidewalk and casually walking past the sign into the restaurant. (Which reads: Closed for cleaning, this is not an invitation to rob us! Signal is watching!)

The bell rings with the pleasant dings of common dinner bells (not unlike Alfred’s little dinner alarm) as the smell of pure greasy food assaults Signal’s nose as his mouth begins to water and his stomach growls.

“Hey Mr. Signal! Got your order up and ready!” A man back behind the counter calls out with a smile, a gray wife-beater hugs tightly to the man’s chest and eagerly clings to his prosthetic hand/arm and steel plating. The man had a weird Australian/Canadian accent, but the man’s skin reminded Duke of a cup of coffee with either too much milk or too little (depending on the light, he guesses)

Signal just gives the man (who he’s not sure what the guy’s name is as he has no name tag) a smile and a nod. Eagerly taking the bag of four bat burgers and a large fries and setting money on the counter.

He turns to leave, but stops when he accidentally bumps into someone (much smaller than him cause he was almost reaching 6ft).

Cue him looking down into the pouting storm clouds above a flooding river eyes of a very small person, of whom was wearing a knitted purple and turquoise sweater and ripped jeans, and something in his chest flutters like when he first met Damien and won his respect after a brutal patrol.

“Sorry little one. Here, let me help you back up.” Cue Signal reaching up and gently grabbing the kid’s? Hand and starting to help them up, only for his powers to activate mysteriously.

”SHIT CLOSE YOUR EYES!”

Cue Signal running out of the restaurant and back up onto the roof of the tallest building close to the sun.

Cue Signal experiencing a different type of ‘ghost vision’, one were he feels a brief flash of pain of a needle prick, and a taste of chocolate. But, he sees nothing but white, hospital white but different.

Once, the vision is over, he rushes back down to the Bat Burger. However, the person he accidentally ran into was already gone but he swore that he could make out a faint smell of bitter chocolate. (Which was weird as there were nothing made with chocolate in the Bat Burger, not after the Riddler broke the Milkshake and ice cream machines months ago.)

“Hey Mr. Signal, back for a new meal?” The Australian/Canadan man asks as he points down to the ruined bag that was supposed to be Signal’s meal. (Smoking like it got lit on fire and everyone was too lazy to even put it out correctly)

*Biggest dramatic, one full of regrets getting up this morning, sigh* “Yes please.”

(Let me know if you want the reader to be an actual adult, teenager, or a child. Also, I’m like 5’2” but I’m an adult. I feel more and more like I should make the reader a child, so please let me know)

(Also if I should do a Eddie/Venom headcannon too)

#batman #batfam #barbara gordon #tim drake #bruce wayne #cassandra cain #damian wayne #dick grayson #stephanie brown #duke thomas #jason todd #batfam headcanons #batfam shenanigans #symbiotic reader

29 notes · View notes

howlyourmelancholy · 1 year ago

Text

Amortentia

summary: to her, he is the smell of Amortentia.

warnings: little bit of fluff, little bit of angst, it is SFW

word count: 450

a/n: this came of the blue while i was working one day, like a year ago, and have been sitting in my drafts for a while, while i figured out what i was going to do with this blog and how i wanted to set it up. finally figured out what i was doing, so came back to finish this. sorry in advance for the heartache :(

Sirius Orion Black is many things, and she would describe none of them as simple.

To her, he is the smell of Amortentia.

He is a mystery wrapped in leather, and she longed to understand him. He is a bad boy with a wicked tongue and old-world charm. He is someone who is unravelling because the world is smothering him.

He is midnight motorcycle rides beneath a pitch-black sky and hushed laughter as he snuck her out of the bedroom window. He is the wind in her hair and the adrenaline rush in her veins.

He is whisky-flavoured kisses and nights of endless passion. He is the reason she sees stars at night and why she can’t ever seem to catch her breath. He is dangerous and forbidden, but he is hers.

He is a beautiful soul, so full of love, and a dark fantasy come to life. He is the reason her thighs quiver at night and the reason she cries out for more. He is ecstasy, desire, and love.

He is every heartache and every recovery. He is the safety net that holds her close when the world threatens to consume her. He is the breath of a new day and the reason she smiles each morning.

She had never thought of him as anything else.

He is still the smell of Amortentia.

Except now he is beautiful lies and the broken promises that followed. He is a bad boy who grew into a bad man, whose silver tongue can only weave dark webs, not beautiful spells.

He is the knock at her door, and the authorities standing on her doorstep. He is the ice in her veins and the cause of her heart's skipping beats. He is the reason her world fell apart and the reason she still cries at night.

He is the taste of betrayal lingering on her tongue. He is the reason that she lies awake at night, longing for the past. He is the memory of a decade together—the memory of the future they’d both fought for.

He is the echo of a man she loved so dearly. He is the reminder that even love cannot save people. He is the heartache that brings her to her knees and the smell of roses on their caskets.

He is the cause of waggling tongues and loose lips. He is the reason she gets sympathetic looks every time she enters the room. He is the reason the world is cold, dreary, and oh so dark.

Sirius Orion Black is many things, and she would describe none of them as simple.

He is still the smell of Amortentia.

And she wants nothing to do with him.

#sirius black #sirius black drabble #sirius black imagine #sirius black angst #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #why do i do this to myself

152 notes · View notes

f3maled0g · 2 years ago

Text

“What’s eating you?”

Edmund Pevensie x Fem!Reader

Warnings - We live in a society, allusions to sex, innuendos.

Summary - Gurl I dunno.

A/N: Don’t repost, re-blogs are absolutely fine

—————

“Pevensie!”

There you appeared with a moonshine induced stagger. One could have sworn Edmund Pevensie’s eyes shone. He quickly assumed his original demeanour. Cold and unbothered, although now with a certain lightness to his shoulders. All the while, you made your boisterous trek to his spot, sporting a lopsided grin.

“Hello,” you sung, albeit badly.

He released an audible humph.

“Geez, something crawl up your trousers, old boy?”

“Okay.” Edmund raised a brow. Then, another.

You paused, maintaining deadly serious eye contact as if about to divulge the most sordid goss.

“What’s eating you?”

“Excuse me?”

“The phrase,” you jabbed at an explanation. “What’s bothering you?”

“In what world are you from where they use that euphemism?”

��Give a girl a break, concern is the most honourable gift I’ve ever bestowed upon anyone,” you returned a salute.

He scanned your hopeful countenance with a critical eye and took a generous swig of brown from a suddenly procured flask in his hand. Ed sighs, his thoughts muffled by the wild clamour of teenagers coupled with the cantankerous ambience that parties generally possessed without fail.

“So,” you inhaled, teetering on the edge of a conversation doomed for death. “Wanna get out of here?”

His lips twitched with a growing smile at the sight of your determined look in his periphery, more than prepared to bolt at the door. Not that you ever noticed the subtle glances, after all, stoicism was his magnum opus while yours ignorant bliss.

“Suit yourself,” you concluded with a shrug and waltzed out the exit and Edmund felt obligated to follow, legs mechanically willing themselves in your direction. Someone had to look out for you.

Just when he thought he’d lost you, Edmund found you leaning against the stout wood of an old oak. You bathed in the staple warmth of summer air, skin set aglow by the moonlight streaming through cracks of the foliage.

“You know, it’s considered rude to stare.” You whispered with closed eyes, conscious of his burning scrutiny.

He lingered at a comfortable distance from you, enraptured by your surreal tranquillity. Your eyes fluttered open, the reflection of the moon evident in your dilated pupils. He drew closer, your presence willing him to motion, like a magnet, until he was close enough to hear the rhythmic pattern of your breath.

The proximity was agonising, enticingly so. Your tangibility rushed him into a confused frenzy. He wanted to touch you. Worship the deity that you were. Longing nagged at him. How was it you were so close yet out of reach? It was aggravating. You were aggravating and this puzzle could only be solved in one way.

You looked at him through your lashes, a haziness dancing across your face. “What’s eating you, Pevensie?”

What passed in the moment was a blur.

Edmund stood before you, obscuring the view of the moon. You tilted your head, the bare slope of your neck appeared so inviting. It took everything to restrain himself. To maintain his resolve. But if you would just ask nicely, sweetly. Edmund’s heart would yield.

Your stare was a siren call to him. Beckoning and beckoning. It seemed his heart was not the only appendage at your beck and call. Edmund’s hands had a mind of their own and commanded forward. You bristled, the grip snaking around your waist shook your guard.

“Is this o-”

“Yes,” you gasped, much like a fish out of water.

Edmund chuckled, “You didn’t even let me finish, love.”

“In the biblical sense, I just might if you got on with it already.”

Seriously, you were rushing this? He pictured this a little differently, wanting to take his time with the pretty thing before him and explore the contours of your soul. After all, not only was Edmund Pevensie a fighter but a lover too.

Impatient hands latched onto his shirt collar, willing him forward and flush against you. The contact stirred something deep within your lower belly, something reserved only for him. He kissed you hard, then pulled away, noses nudging each other’s. You smiled, baring your teeth with closed eyes.

“Y/N,” Edmund breathed, “Look at me.”

“Hmm?”

“I like you, alright?”

“Alright. I like you too.”

Resolve broken.

You laughed heartily. “So, why don’t you just get it over with, buddy boy?”

“Buddy boy, huh?” He pulled away, extending a hand to pull you from the mighty oak. “You really are something.”

“Thanks a bunch, Eds,” you scoffed, jutting your tongue out. “Not only am I aroused, but aroused and disappointed.”

You turned to leave but Edmund stopped you.

“Listen, it’s not that. I just-”

“Are you a virgin?” you deadpanned, “Is that what this is?”

Edmund pouted, wounded. You raised two brows.

Ignoring the blow to his ego, he pressed on, “I just want to take my time with you, is all.”

Oh. You warmed from the explanation.

“So, that’s what’s been bothering you.”

You approached again and this time planted a kiss on his cheek, his face unusually ruddy from the affection.

“Well, at least let me take you home?” he suggested.

“I do have a curfew.”

“So, about the sex…” you began, looping an arm around his.

Edmund rolled his eyes, “Name the date.”

#edmund pevensie x reader #narnia imagine #edmund pevensie x y/n #edmund x reader

219 notes · View notes

pedrito-friskito · 2 years ago

Text

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

during - part nineteen

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

you make some new friends.

a/n: this might be my favourite chapter yet. I had sooooooo much fun writing it, and finally touching on/adapting scenes from the show is bringing me so much joy I can’t wait to get to the meat of it, but the parts between now and then excite me too!!

word count: 6.7k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, if you’ve been reading up until now you know the drill, I’m getting lazy with my warnings LOL, no smut here, a bit of angst, F R I E N D S H I P

✨@friskito-library for new works and updates✨

Your days in the radio room have become more and more frequent, since your run-in with Gwen and her crew. It’s like you told Tess; with Hartford gone, you’d lost one of your more consistent meet-ups, and you needed to know what else was out there. You needed new connections, new friends, allies. You needed something. In case Boston went belly-up and needed to get the hell out of dodge and never look back, you needed a soft place to land.

Abe’s garnered quite the collection, over the years, and it’s like everywhere you look, there’s another wire connecting from one wall to the next, batteries that probably shouldn’t still work plugged into far too many devices. His map collection is something to write home about, and you spend some time trying to figure out the path Joel and Tommy took from Austin, but when your finger finds Cincinnati, your chest goes tight, and you return to the room Abe’s set up for just for you, branched off the main room he uses to send requested messages.

You’re still paying him with cigarettes, although some of them are the hand-rolled FEDRA shit that McCoy has a penchant for. The soldier’s other habits always seem to win, though, and you always have at least half a dozen for Abe, who’s quietly grateful, waving you off into the side room, closing the door behind you.

“I don’t wanna know,” he told you when you first asked. It’s been a while now, though you stopped for a while when Nick shot Joel, when you both needed time to recover. “Just do what you need to do, and leave me out of it, okay?”

“So you don’t want any more cigarettes?”

He pointed a finger at you. “I never said that.”

And here you are, one side of the big headphones pressed to your ear. The foam has definitely seen better days, but the sound is relatively clear. You’ve kept a notebook of your contacts, the frequencies they’re usually on, the days of the week and times they’re usually available. Today, you’ve gone through every single one, and no one is out there. So you’re just twisting the dials, the strange sound of the static and frequencies almost giving you a headache, but then—

Well, I’ve been afraid of changin’, cuz I’ve built my life around you.

You haven’t heard that song in a long, long time. In fact, you’re pretty sure the last time you heard it was in Joel’s truck, in that field just outside of Austin, staring up at the stars. Fleetwood Mac has always been one of your favourites, and you slide the other side of the headphones over, encasing yourself in the song, shutting your eyes as the music crackles over the radio.

But time makes you bolder, even children get older, and I’m getting older, too.

You can feel the song in your soul. It digs straight into your chest, the crooned lyrics wrapping around your heart and squeezing tight.

Oh, I’m getting older, too.

You let it wash over you, sinking back into the chair, wrapping your arms around yourself, tilting your head back on your shoulders and making the cable connecting the headset to the radio stretch. You’ve found a few cassette tapes over the years — namely the same Led Zeppelin album you’d once given Joel for his truck — but you make a mental note to keep your eye out for Fleetwood Mac or Stevie Nicks.

The song finishes, and you sigh, straightening in the chair, reaching out to turn off the radio, fingers brushing against the knob.

“If there’s anybody out there, my name is Frank. I’m on frequency 1462. We have resources, and we are looking to trade.”

He repeats himself again, and then another song starts. More Fleetwood, Go Your Own Way.

Well, shit.

Your fingers fly across the knobs, turning to the right frequency, wincing at the whine as it clicks on. You reach for the microphone.

“Hello?”

There’s a fraction of a pause before, “Oh my god, hi!”

If your years of smuggling have taught you anything, it’s that you can’t trust anybody right off the bat. You have to be wary, you have to be careful. Hell, there are still people you’ve traded with that you don’t trust as far as you can throw. It’s just the way things are.

But fuck, if he doesn’t have the kindest-sounding voice.

“Is this Frank?”

“It is!” he replies, his excitement somehow palpable through the radio waves. “Oh my god, I was starting to think no one was gonna hear that message.”

“It’s a good song,” you laugh, pulling the mic closer to you on the table. “Haven’t heard it in a long time.”

“It’s a classic,” he agrees, and there’s a slight pause before, “Okay, I’m gonna admit, I have no idea how to do this.”

“How to do…?”

“Make deals,” he says, “meet people over the radio. Have you done this before?”

You’re not quite sure how much truth you should offer a perfect stranger, regardless of how kind he sounds. If this is a FEDRA trap, chances are good you’ll be able to blackmail your way out of it. So you settle on, “Once or twice.”

“Am I allowed to know your name? Or is that not…?”

“It’s Liv,” you offer. “Where are you, Frank?”

He pauses again. “I’m not sure if I should…” You can hear the sudden hesitancy in his tone; you know it well.

“Why don’t I tell you how I normally do this?”

“That would be perfect.”

“You tell me what you have to offer, I tell you what I have to trade. We settle on terms, pick a meeting spot and a date, and that’s that. You don’t kill me or my people, I don’t kill you or yours, and we part ways with what we’ve bargained for. Simple.”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“But before we get into that, can we at least make sure we’re in the same state? I try not to cross the borders if I can manage it.”

“That’s fair, I suppose,” he agrees. “We’re in Massachusetts.”

“Good,” you nod, reaching for your notebook and pen, scrawling Frank’s name on your page, along with the frequency number. “So are we.”

“Coast?”

“Pretty close.”

“Good.”

“So we’re in the same state,” you say, tapping the pen against the paper. “What are you offering to trade, Frank?”

“Tell me something first,” he prompts, and your brow lifts slowly. “How long do your…relationships with traders usually last?”

Your throat bobs, Gwen’s screaming voice echoing through your head, but you shove it away. “Depends. As long as everyone holds up their end of the deal, there’s no real time limit.”

“What’s the longest you’ve traded with someone?”

“There’s a group in Providence I’ve been trading with since 2008. Never had any issues there.”

“Uh-huh, good to know. The thing is, what I’m proposing here, it might not be the same as the other deals you’ve made. We’re well-protected here. My partner, Bill, he’s…he’s a survivalist, and he’s built this place to last. We’re not going anywhere fast, we’re sustainable.”

“Meaning you wouldn’t come to the city,” you say, catching on, and now you’re the one feeling hesitant. “Depending how far out you are, it might not be worth it to us. There’d have to be something worth the risk each time, and I don’t—”

“Freshly cooked meals,” he says, and you stop dead. “Fresh vegetables. Wine, the good kind. New clothes, building materials, and weap—”

“Stop,” you say quickly, cutting him off. “I only trust the radio so far. Give me coordinates, and a date, and we go from there.”

He gives you the coordinates, you scribble the numbers down, and decide on a date, three days from today. You say your goodbyes, and you tell him not to get back on the radio until you’ve met, but to keep playing the music, so you know everything is still a-go. “You like Fleetwood Mac?”

“I love Fleetwood Mac.”

“Then you and I are gonna get along just fine.”

You can’t help the smile in your voice. “I’ve got a good feeling about this, Frank.”

“Me, too.”

“Well, I’ll see you soon, I guess.”

“See you soon. Oh, and Liv?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay safe.”

It catches you off guard, makes something crawl up the back of your throat.“Thanks, Frank. You too.”

You dial to a different frequency the moment you’re done, shutting down the radio entirely, and leave without a word. Abe doesn’t so much as glance at you as you head out, past the long string of people waiting patiently for him to send their messages.

Joel’s home before you are, which is a shock.

His back is killing him. Tommy’s skipped out on every single one of his jobs lately, and Joel feels like every time he turns a corner, there’s something else that needs repairs, another new face asking him to fix something. His hands hurt, he’s got a kink in his neck, and all he really wants to do is fall into bed and have your body curled against his.

He sighs as he gets through the door, brow pinching when he doesn’t find you perched at the table or sitting on the couch, head bent over your maps or flipping through your notebooks. It’s become habit for you lately, wanting to build up your connections more and more, now that Hartford is gone.

The guilt over the entire situation lingers in the back of Joel’s mind, a nagging voice that sounds suspiciously like his brother.

Joel shakes the thought away. He did what he had to, to protect you. To protect his wife, his family.

He did what he had to.

Locking the door behind him, he tosses his makeshift tool bag — a ratty backpack he found at the donation hall before it shut down — into the corner, and flops onto the couch. He slings his hand over his eyes. He’ll just close them for a minute, just until you’re home, until you’re…

A nightmare latches onto him with a vice-like grip, throws him fully out of sleep with a gasp, his chest heaving.

“Joel?” your voice calls, a soft echo across the apartment, and he turns to see you perched in one of the kitchen chairs, pencil between your teeth, your hair falling in your eyes. “Baby, you okay?”

He doesn’t answer right away, swinging his legs off the couch, getting to his feet with a groan. He rubs at his lower back as he pads over to the kitchen, coming to stand behind you. He leans forward and plants both hands on the table either side of you, leaning down until he can fit his chin into the curve of your neck, planting soft kisses at your pulse.

“Fine, now that you’re home,” he mumbles, and you lean back into him slightly, turning your head so you can kiss at his, lifting a hand to ruffle your hair. “You were out late.”

“I’ve been home for hours,” you reply, huffing a laugh, setting the pencil on the table. Your maps are all spread out, the big one of Massachusetts on the top. “You’ve been asleep the entire time. Didn’t wanna wake you.”

Joel drags one hand off the table, moves his arm so it’s slung around your chest, curling his fingers around your rib cage. “How nice of you.”

“Best wife ever,” you say, and Joel laughs into your skin. “Oh, and there’s dinner for you. Abe’s wife sent me home with food as thank you for fixing their door the other day.”

“What is it?”

“Something with Spam in it,” you tell him, and Joel wrinkles his nose. “It tastes better than it looks.”

“Noted,” he grumbles, pressing one last kiss to your throat before he straightens, spine creaking as he goes. “Fuck, I’m getting old.”

“I think the grey in your beard suits you,” you answer, turning back to your maps, “just for the record.”

The corner of his mouth quirks as he heads for the fridge, fishing out the plate of food and leaning against the counter. “How was your day, baby?”

Your pencil drops again, and you push your chair back, the legs squeaking against the floor. You turn yourself towards him fully, slowly getting to your feet, taking a step towards him. “I made a friend.”

Joel’s brow quirks. You know a lot of people in the QZ, that much he knows for certain, but he’s really not sure how many of them you would refer to as friends. “Oh?”

“On the radio. His name is Frank.” You turn back to the maps, eyes raking over the paper, your finger finding a spot marked with pencil. “He lives in Lincoln, and we’re gonna go see him in three days.”

He nearly drops the plate. “What?”

“I mapped out the path. It’s a bit of a hike, almost five hours outside of Boston, but—”

“Ten miles?” Joel repeats, and you just nod. “Liv, we’ve barely been outside the city limits, and you wanna hike ten miles to some random stranger?”

“Frank,” you say, your tone almost petulant, and Joel puts the plate down. “They have food, Joel. Real food, not bullshit QZ rations. Wine, weapons, building materials. New clothes. This could be good for us, Joel. Really good.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “You want me to hike five hours for wine?”

“I want you to hike ten miles for a chance at something good, Joel. Something new.” Your gaze drops and you knot your hands together. “Something to make up for what we did, maybe. Somehow. I don’t know. I just…I feel good about this, baby. And it’s just a meeting, to start. I didn’t promise him anything, just that we’d meet, and we’d talk. Then we go from there.”

Something in your voice tugs at him, and for a moment, Joel’s not quite sure what it is, but then it hits him.

It’s hope. It’s the most hopeful you’ve sounded in a long time, and when you take another step toward him, he opens his arms to you.

“The route will take us right past Cumberland Farms,” you continue, and Joel cups your hip in his palm, letting out a quiet oomph as you lean against him, reaching up to twine your arms around your neck. “We can stop there first, stash some stuff just in case.”

“A safety net,” Joel says, and you nod.

“Exactly.”

“You’ve been thinking about this a lot, haven’t you?”

“You were asleep for a long time,” you reply, and Joel just scoffs, leaning in to kiss you softly. “Wait,” you pull back, moving one hand to the middle of his chest, pushing lightly. “Is that a yes?”

“Well, I’m not about to let you go by yourself now, am I?”

It’s a long fucking hike.

Thankfully, it’s relatively easy. The path you’d chosen isn’t overly adventurous, no daunting hills or thick forests. It’s mostly open air, rolling fields, forests either side of the roads. The weather is beautiful, which is a plus, though you can feel the sweat pouring down your back as you walk, on the right side of Joel, as always.

You recount the entire conversation you had with Frank to Joel as you walk. Tess had offered to come with you, too, but you decided the two of you would go for the first meeting, and if things worked out, then you’d all go together the next time. You could tell part of her was relieved, and she admitted to you later she had plans to see Robin the same day you were going.

“You got instinct, baby,” Joel tells you after you’ve finished the story, your fingers twined together as he pulls you out of the path of a fallen telephone wire in the middle of the road. “Don’t forget that. I’ve seen it; you know what you’re doing. And if you feel good about this, then I’m game. We see what happens. And if anyone tries to lay a hand on you—”

“Hit ‘em real fuckin’ hard with my bat.”

He grins. “That’s my girl.”

The praise makes your chest warm, and when he’s close enough, you slide yourself against him, slipping your arm around his waist, tugging his around your shoulders. “Your wife is a badass, Joel Miller,” you say, and he barks a laugh, the corner of his eyes crinkling. “In case you weren’t aware.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” he says, his brows lifting. “Believe me, I’m aware. It’s fuckin’ hot. Only reason I married you.”

Now you’re the one that laughs, sliding your hand into his back pocket and squeezing his ass through his jeans. “Jackass.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, and squeezes your shoulder, turning his head to kiss the top of your head. “Liv, baby?”

“Mmm?”

“When we get back to Boston, I’m gonna try and talk to Tommy. Make peace or somethin’.”

You nearly stop dead in your tracks. In fact, if Joel wasn’t still walking with his arm around you, you might have fallen over. But you don’t let your shock be known, schooling your face as neutral as possible while letting one brow raise. “Oh, really?”

“I’ve been thinkin’ about it a lot, and I just…He’s my baby brother. He’s a fuckin’ idiot, and he’s gonna get himself killed, but he’s family. And we keep going for family, so I gotta fix it. Somehow.”

Slowly, you nod. “You think he’s gonna tell the Fireflies about me?”

“I’ll break his fuckin’ nose if he does.”

“Joel.” You smack at his chest. “That’s not how you fix it.”

“I know, I know. It’s…” Joel shakes his head. “I want to believe he won’t. I really do.”

“So talk to him,” you say with a nod. “See what happens, go from there, and please, just don’t fucking hit each other.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You continue on, the sun beating down on your every step. There’s not much more conversation, but the silence is easy, a comfort. Joel doesn’t let you wander far, you eventually step out of his grip but your hands are still linked together.

Your stop at Cumberland Farms is brief. In the early days, you brought a stash box to the gas station, tucked it below one of the floor panels. You and Joel mostly empty your packs into the box, some ammunition, a spare knife, food that’ll last a good while. A backup. You pull one of the long-empty freezers over the panel, try to make the trash and debris cover it up, just to be safe. Joel gives you a nod of approval, and then you keep going.

Eventually, the tree-lined road gives way to open space. More hills, dips in the earth. Far in the distance, you see a plane broken in half on the hilltop — an emergency landing gone wrong — and your stomach rolls at the thought of what’s still up there.

But then you turn another corner, and it’s even worse.

Beside you, you hear Joel’s quiet shock. “What in the…?”

You grip his hand tighter, pushing yourself against him, tearing your eyes from the sight before you. “I thought he was lying.”

Joel’s head whips in your direction. “What? Who? You knew about this?”

You swallow hard around the lump that’s formed in your throat. “Early days, after the outbreak. Like, the week after, FEDRA swept through the small towns and evacuated them. Told people they were going to a QZ. And they were, if there was room. If not…” You tilt your head towards the pit.

“How did you know? You’ve been out this way?”

“Never this far,” you answer, shaking your head. “Nick, he…he told me about it.” Joel stiffens, and you squeeze his arm. “He wasn’t part of it, but he knew soldiers that were. It wasn’t just here; it was all over. Across the country. Who fucking knows how many people FEDRA killed.”

“I just don’t get why.”

“Better dead than infected.”

“Jesus Christ,” Joel mutters, and pulls you closer, turning you away from it. Not that it makes a difference; you know you’ll be seeing the half-buried skeletons, the scraps of clothing and the scattered belongings, in the back of your mind for a long time. “Maybe there’s a path through the forest.”

You shake your head. “Just keep going.”

“Liv—”

“Keep going, Joel.”

So you do. You try to bury the sight, try to push it away, try to focus on where you’re going instead.

It’s like you turn the corner, and all of a sudden, there’s a town right in front of you. A small town, to be sure, a handful of buildings, some that have seen better days, and when your eyes land on the nine-foot metal fence around the perimeter, Frank’s wavy voice on the radio echoes through your head.

We’re well-protected here.

He sure as hell wasn’t lying.

As you approach the fence, Joel situates himself in front of you, his expression wary, an arm held out, protector mode on. You get closer, and suddenly it strikes you that you have no idea what Frank looks like. You have no idea who you’re looking for.

But you’re pretty sure it’s not the large bearded man with the giant fucking gun pointed at your head.

Instantly, you’ve both got your hands in the air, Joel still a half step in front of you. “What do you want?” the man barks, lifting the gun a little higher, switching between aiming the barrel at your head and at Joel’s.

“We’re here to see Frank,” you say instantly, nearly tripping over the words. “I’m Liv, this is Joel. I spoke to Frank on the radio.”

“Oh my fucking…Bill, put the gun down!” another, strangely familiar voice shouts, and over the larger man’s — Bill’s — shoulder, you see a slightly smaller man, a touch taller than Bill, but thinner, his hair shorter, his beard a little more well-kept. He’s got a dishrag over his shoulder, and as he jogs up to Bill, pushing his partner aside and reaching for the gate before you, he grins at you.

The gun is lowered, but as Frank pulls the gate open, Bill pulls out the same bio-scanner machine you’ve seen FEDRA soldiers toting around back in the QZ, and your heart sinks into your toes.

“Would you put that thing away?” Frank chides, waving at Bill, beaming at you now as you take a hesitant step towards the now-open gate. “You must be Liv.”

His smile is infectious, and as Bill stows the scanner, your excitement returns. “Hi, Frank.”

“Come in, come in!” he says, and reaches for your hand, tugging you through. “You guys are just in time; lunch is almost ready. Right, Bill?”

“…yes.”

Joel’s a half step behind you now, his hand finding the small of your back as you walk through the gate completely. Bill sniffs as you step past, and closes the gate behind you both, hitting a keypad that emits a loud beep, the heavy sound of magnets slamming together.

You’re at a loss for words as you follow Frank down the street. It looks so…normal. So alive, so lived in. You’ve become so accustomed to abandoned buildings and broken windows; to be around buildings that look well taken care of, a house that looks like it belongs to someone, you’re at a loss.

“This place is beautiful,” you manage to say, picking up your pace to keep up with Frank. “It looks so…”

“Normal?” Frank asks, and you just nod, giving a little laugh. “Cookie-cutter? I know. It’s definitely grown on me.”

“You weren’t always here?”

“Oh, no, not always. It’s been about…three years now? Something like that?” He waves a hand. “We can talk more about that stuff over lunch. You two must be starving.”

You turn another corner, and the most beautiful house stands before you. Two stories, perfect white picket fence out front, planters filled with flowers lining the walkways, the hedges and lawn neatly trimmed. A US flag sticks out from the front of the house, the fabric billowing in the warm breeze, and you nearly topple over when you see the patio furniture set out, four chairs around a table, each place already set, wine in the middle, glasses at each spot.

You and Joel are frozen in place, but Frank continues on, stepping through the small gate in the fence and walking towards the table. Bill stalks past you, heading into the house, and Frank waves you on. “Come! Sit!”

Joel’s hand pushes against your back, his voice low in your ear. “You still feelin’ good about this?”

“Very,” you reply, and let him propel you forward slightly, unable to wipe the grin on your face as you walk towards the table.

You take a seat, Joel sliding into the chair next to you, and Frank produces a bottle of wine, filling the glass in front of you. Joel gives a little nod as Frank fills his glass, and you’ll be the first to admit you reach for the glass quickly, taking a long sip that tastes like heaven. You’ve never been a huge wine drinker; you indulged every once in a while before — the occasional glass if you were out for dinner, and your mom had a penchant for rosé — but this is good fucking wine.

“How long did it take you guys?” Frank asks as he fills his own glass, then the empty seat for Bill. “Easy travels I hope?”

“‘Bout five hours,” Joel answers as you take another sip. “No Infected, and the weather’s good.”

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” Frank says, still beaming at you, and you’re smiling into your wine. “We’ll eat first, and then I’ll show you two around. Bill’s a bit…hesitant about the whole thing, but he’ll come around. He’s a big softie.” He pauses, brow furrowing slightly. “Sort of.”

As if on cue, the front door opens, and Bill appears, calling Frank’s name. The taller man rises, jogging towards the door and when he turns back, he has two plates of food in his hands. It’s fine china, piled with steaming veggies and pieces of meat, actual fucking gravy and Bill has a bowl of dinner rolls tucked in the crook of his arm.

Frank sets a plate down in front of you, and for a second, you honestly feel like you could cry. “Oh my god, thank you.” Bill hands the other two plates to Frank, then disappears towards the house. Frank goes to follow, but then waves his hand at his partner’s back.

“He can handle the salad himself.” He settles into the seat across from you, gestures to the plate you’re still staring at. “Go ahead, eat! There’s more too, if you’re still hungry after.”

Joel wastes no time, but you wait for Bill to return, saying your thanks when he hands you a bowl of salad that looks fresh from the garden. Your mouth is watering. He just gives you a curt nod, sinks into the chair opposite of Joel, and pulls a handgun from the holster on his leg, setting it beside his plate. A warning, and you see Joel’s eyes dart to it before he glances at you. You sip your wine again, your hand finding Joel’s thigh beneath the table.

“Well, this is just incredible,” you say, breaking the awkward silence that’s settled. “Honestly, it’s just…it’s amazing, truly.”

“Right?” Frank agrees, giving you an almost conspiratorial grin. He picks up the wine bottle from the table, gestures to your glass. “Refill?”

“Please,” you say, holding your glass out.

Frank side-eyes Bill as he picks up the gun, pulling back the hammer with a quiet click. “Could you not, please? They’re our guests.”

Joel stares at the gun for a long moment before, “I’m the same way.”

“Oh, you’re a paranoid schizophrenic, too?” Frank asks, and you have to stifle your chuckle, covering your mouth with your hand so you don’t spit wine.

Bill rolls his eyes. “I’m not a schizophrenic.”

Bill and Joel share another glance, and you take another sip of wine before clearing your throat. “Well, I just wanna say, uh, gun aside — which I get, for the record.” You squeeze Joel’s leg beneath the table. “You’re protecting your family. But this is just so nice, and so appreciated, to have a meal like this, in such a beautiful place. It’s been so long since things felt normal, and this…even if we don’t end up working together, I just…thank you. Both of you.”

Frank meets your eyes, holding his glass towards you. “We are working together.”

“We haven’t even—” you start, but before you can finish your sentence, Frank sets down his glass for a moment and gets to his feet, reaching for his glass and the bottle again.

“You know what?” he says, giving you a grin. “Let’s go inside. Liv, I wanna show you something.”

You feel Joel’s eyes slide back to you, his brow furrowed deeply, and you squeeze his leg one more time before you’re getting up. “Actually, I’m dying to see the inside.”

“Let’s go,” Frank continues, ignoring Bill’s protests. “Bring your wine.” As you follow him towards the house, he pauses to let you catch up, turning to you. “Like I said, he’ll come around, he just…takes a while.”

You can’t help your chuckle. “Reminds me of Joel.”

As you step inside the house, you’re at a loss for words. Antique furniture, beautiful paintings, and it feels like a home. A stark contrast to your apartment back in Boston, which has felt more and more like just a place to keep your stuff. Especially since Joel showed up; wherever he was, that was home.

You dance your fingers across the piano keys as Frank turns towards the dining room, a large mahogany table taking up most of the space, matching chairs, an old grandfather clock, a covered desk. You don’t have enough of a musical ear to know if the piano is still in tune or not, but then Frank calls your name, and you wander over, sipping your wine as you go, careful not to let it spill.

“This place is amazing,” you comment, and Frank grins, turning to rifle through one of the desk drawers. “Did you and Bill find this place? I’m shocked it’s in such good condition.”

“No, Bill has always lived here,” Frank answers, still searching for something. “I was heading for Boston, after the Baltimore QZ fell. There were ten of us originally, but by the time I ended up here, I was the only one left.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, almost a reflex, and Frank waves you off. “So, you and Bill…you found each other, in the middle of all this?”

He finds what he’s looking for, something concealed in his hand as he pushes the drawer shut, and the grin on his face as he straightens to look at you makes your chest warm. He’s just so charming, kindness radiating off of him in waves. You’re not used to it.

“We did,” he says with a nod, an almost dreamy look in his eye. “It’s hopelessly romantic, isn’t it? Must be the artist in me. And you should have seen this place when I first got here. At least an inch of dust everywhere you looked.”

“Bill’s not much a cleaner?”

“He’s practical, but he forgets to pay attention to things sometimes. But he’s learning.” He smiles. “We all are.”

You scoff a little laugh. “That’s a good way to put it.”

Frank holds the thing he’d fished out of the desk to you. “For you.”

Your jaw drops. Fleetwood Mac. “You’re kidding.”

“No,” he laughs, putting the cassette tape in your hands. “It’s yours. Landslide is on side B.”

“Frank, I can’t—”

“You can,” he presses, chuckling at your protest. “A token of appreciation for travelling this far to meet with us.” Before you can refuse, Frank turns, refilling his glass where he’d set it on the table and sinking into one of the chairs. “Now, tell me how this works.”

The majority of the afternoon is spent following Frank around, him showing you the numbered but incredible sights Lincoln has to offer. It feels like stepping into a history book in the best kind of way, and that feeling of normalcy, the white picket fence only adds to it.

“So, how long have you and Joel been you and Joel?” Frank asks. You’re in the clothing boutique, poking through the racks of clothes. Frank told you to pick out an outfit, and you’re taking your choices very seriously, your mind torn between desperately wanting something cute while knowing you need something practical.

“Hah. It’s, uh, complicated?” you reply, your voice hitching on the word. You rub the sleeve of a green sweater between your fingers, savouring the softness. “We knew each other before the outbreak.”

Over the top of the rack, you can see Frank make a face. “That doesn’t sound that complicated.”

Before you know it, you’ve told him everything. It throws you, to trust someone this quickly. But, he invited you into his home, trusted you not to turn on him and his partner, his family. And that warmth he seems to radiate, it just adds to it all, making you feel like you’ve known him much longer than you have.

“Okay, let me get this straight,” he says after you’ve given him the whole story. “So you were together in 2001, then you moved to Boston, then shit hits the fan, you’re still in Boston, and Joel shows up five years later with his brother and another woman?”

You nod, flicking through a rack to find a pair of black jeans in your size. “Yes, Tommy and Tess.”

“And Joel and Tess were a thing when they first got to Boston?”

“Yes.”

“Then Tess broke it off with Joel, and you two got back together? And she’s one of your closest friends?”

You nod again. “Yes.”

“And Tommy is…?”

You sigh. “Tommy is even more complicated. I think I’d need another bottle of wine before I even start talking about Tommy.”

Frank grins. “All the more incentive for you to come back.”

“As if I’m not already convinced.”

Outside the boutique, you can hear Joel calling your name. You glance at your watch. “Shit. We probably need to start heading back.”

“Take those,” Frank says, gesturing to the jeans in your hands. He has the green sweater you’ve decided on in his hands. “I told Bill to pack up some food for you too.”

You head out of the boutique and towards the gate, and as you approach, Joel and Bill walk out of the house, Joel’s bag slung over his shoulder, looking a bit fuller than it had when you arrived. He hands you your own bag, and Frank hands you the sweater as you crouch down to stuff the clothes in your bag. “You’re sure about this?” you ask, pulling the Fleetwood Mac cassette out of your back pocket.

“Of course,” Frank answers. “Don’t think of it as a gift. You’ll come back in a few weeks, and we’ll trade.

“We will. And I’ll bring Tess, like I said.”

“Oh,” he continues, glancing over his shoulder at Joel and Bill, who have stopped a good ten feet behind you, “and I had this idea, that we should use codes for the radio. Y’know, just in case someone’s listening. I know you were worried, the first time we talked.”

You nod. “That’s a great idea. What kind of code are you thinking?”

“Music,” he grins. “Sixties, seventies, eighties. We’ve got this book on Billboard hits we could give you. Sixties if there’s nothing new, seventies if we’ve got something new, eighties if there’s trouble.”

“Eighties for trouble,” you repeat, nodding again. “I like that.”

“Good,” Frank says, and you get to your feet. “I gotta say, Liv, I felt good about this before, but now? It’s nice, so nice, to have new friends.” He reaches out, puts his hand on your arm. “And yes, before you try and deny it. That’s what we are.”

You can’t help your grin. “Friends.”

He grins back. “Friends.”

Joel and Bill have been talking the entire time you have, and when you glance back, you see Joel heading toward you, squinting in the sunlight. “Ready?” he asks as he comes to stand beside you, his hand finding the small of your back again, and you nod. He turns to Frank. “Thank you, for the lunch, and for…” He trails off, gesturing to you. “We needed this.”

Joel and Frank shake hands, and after, Frank pulls you into a tight hug, wrapping his arms tight around your shoulders. “See you soon.”

You get back to the QZ late. You’re both exhausted, worn out by the hiking and the sun and the abundance of food. You’re both drooling over the leftovers Bill and Frank sent you home with, and as soon as you’re through the door to the apartment, Joel pulls out one of the containers, and you eat it with your fingers standing over the sink, both of you laughing at the absurdity of your day.

The next morning, Joel goes looking for Tommy.

Unsurprisingly, his brother has skipped out on his job for the umpteenth time, so as soon as morning curfew has passed, Joel heads into the city, and starts combing the buildings he knows are Firefly hideouts. The third building he’s poking around, and he’s stopped by a woman. She seemingly materializes out of the alleyway, arms crossed over her chest, dark hair tied back. She calls him by name, and Joel freezes.

“You won’t find him,” she says, her voice deeper than Joel is anticipating. “Tommy’s not here.”

Joel turns slowly, regards the woman as she steps out of the alley. She’s dressed the same as everybody else is, clothes that have seen better days, boots wrapped with duct tape. “You must be Marlene.”

“Guilty,” she answers.

“Where’s my brother?”

She looks down at the pavement, digs her toe into the asphalt. “Tommy left this morning.”

Joel’s stomach twists. “Left? What d’you mean, left?”

“I stationed him at our base in Minneapolis,” she says, and Joel’s heart stutters. “He left with a few other men this morning.”

His hands clench into fists. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

“I know how you feel about the Fireflies, Joel,” Marlene continues, and the edges of Joel’s vision tinge red. “Tommy told me. And I understand why you would have your…reservations. But your brother just wants to do some good.”

“My brother is a fucking idiot,” Joel spits. “Is that what you told him? That blowing shit up and killing soldiers was good?”

“We’re doing more than that,” Marlene starts, “and Tommy understands that. He knows what he signed up for.”

“Does he?” he replies, and his voice is climbing. There’s a handful of people out on the sidewalks, and some throw glances in his direction. “You turned him against his family. Against his own brother.”

“I didn’t turn him against you, Joel. Tommy made a choice.”

Joel shakes his head. He’s shaking with anger, confusion, fear — every emotion crawled up the back of his throat and making a home there. “That’s a load of shit.”

Marlene digs in her pocket and extends a folded piece of paper toward him. “This is the radio frequency for the base in Minneapolis. Give it a day or two, then try and get through. I know your wife works the radios, she shouldn’t have any problem reaching him.”

He just stares at her, eyes darting between her face and the piece of paper. But finally, the desperation that’s been added to the mix wins out, and he snatches the paper. “If he dies, it’s on you. I’m not responsible for what happens after that.”

“If he dies, I’ll await your wrath, Joel.”

Before he can do anything more, she turns on her heel and disappears, leaving Joel in the alleyway, alone.

PREV | NEXT

🍓in case tumblr eats the ending🍓

#my fics #strawberry wine #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us spoilers #joel miller x oc #joel miller x liv stone

246 notes · View notes