#I ExPECt yOu tO rEAd AhEaD yeah well i expected you to be dead at your age but here we are | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sophiamcdougall · 5 months

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You're a reasonably informed person on the internet. You've experienced things like no longer being able to get files off an old storage device, media you've downloaded suddenly going poof, sites and forums with troves full of people's thoughts and ideas vanishing forever. You've heard of cybercrime. You've read articles about lost media. You have at least a basic understanding that digital data is vulnerable, is what I'm saying. I'm guessing that you're also aware that history is, you know... important? And that it's an ongoing study, requiring ... data about how people live? And that it's not just about stanning celebrities that happen to be dead? Congratulations, you are significantly better-informed than the British government! So they're currently like "Oh hai can we destroy all these historical documents pls? To save money? Because we'll digitise them first so it's fine! That'll be easy, cheap and reliable -- right? These wills from the 1850s will totally be fine for another 170 years as a PNG or whatever, yeah? We didn't need to do an impact assesment about this because it's clearly win-win! We'd keep the physical wills of Famous People™ though because Famous People™ actually matter, unlike you plebs. We don't think there are any equalities implications about this, either! Also the only examples of Famous People™ we can think of are all white and rich, only one is a woman and she got famous because of the guy she married. Kisses!"

Yes, this is the same Government that's like "Oh no removing a statue of slave trader is erasing history :(" You have, however, until 23 February 2024 to politely inquire of them what the fuck they are smoking. And they will have to publish a summary of the responses they receive. And it will look kind of bad if the feedback is well-argued, informative and overwhelmingly negative and they go ahead and do it anyway. I currently edit documents including responses to consultations like (but significantly less insane) than this one. Responses do actually matter. I would particularly encourage British people/people based in the UK to do this, but as far as I can see it doesn't say you have to be either. If you are, say, a historian or an archivist, or someone who specialises in digital data do say so and draw on your expertise in your answers. This isn't a question of filling out a form. You have to manually compose an email answering the 12 questions in the consultation paper at the link above. I'll put my own answers under the fold. Note -- I never know if I'm being too rude in these sorts of things. You probably shouldn't be ruder than I have been.

Please do not copy and paste any of this: that would defeat the purpose. This isn't a petition, they need to see a range of individual responses. But it may give you a jumping-off point.

Question 1: Should the current law providing for the inspection of wills be preserved?

Yes. Our ability to understand our shared past is a fundamental aspect of our heritage. It is not possible for any authority to know in advance what future insights they are supporting or impeding by their treatment of material evidence. Safeguarding the historical record for future generations should be considered an extremely important duty.

Question 2: Are there any reforms you would suggest to the current law enabling wills to be inspected?

No.

Question 3: Are there any reasons why the High Court should store original paper will documents on a permanent basis, as opposed to just retaining a digitised copy of that material?

Yes. I am amazed that the recent cyber attack on the British Library, which has effectively paralysed it completely, not been sufficient to answer this question for you. I also refer you to the fate of the Domesday Project. Digital storage is useful and can help more people access information; however, it is also inherently fragile. Malice, accident, or eventual inevitable obsolescence not merely might occur, but absolutely should be expected. It is ludicrously naive and reflects a truly unpardonable ignorance to assume that information preserved only in digital form is somehow inviolable and safe, or that a physical document once digitised, never need be digitised again..At absolute minimum, it should be understood as certain that at least some of any digital-only archive will eventually be permanently lost. It is not remotely implausible that all of it would be. Preserving the physical documents provides a crucial failsafe. It also allows any errors in reproduction -- also inevitable-- to be, eventually, seen and corrected. Note that maintaining, upgrading and replacing digital infrastructure is not free, easy or reliable. Over the long term, risks to the data concerned can only accumulate.

"Unlike the methods for preserving analog documents that have been honed over millennia, there is no deep precedence to look to regarding the management of digital records. As such, the processing, long-term storage, and distribution potential of archival digital data are highly unresolved issues. [..] the more digital data is migrated, translated, and re-compressed into new formats, the more room there is for information to be lost, be it at the microbit-level of preservation. Any failure to contend with the instability of digital storage mediums, hardware obsolescence, and software obsolescence thus meets a terminal end—the definitive loss of information. The common belief that digital data is safe so long as it is backed up according to the 3-2-1 rule (3 copies on 2 different formats with 1 copy saved off site) belies the fact that it is fundamentally unclear how long digital information can or will remain intact. What is certain is that its unique vulnerabilities do become more pertinent with age." -- James Boyda, On Loss in the 21st Century: Digital Decay and the Archive, Introduction.

Question 4: Do you agree that after a certain time original paper documents (from 1858 onwards) may be destroyed (other than for famous individuals)? Are there any alternatives, involving the public or private sector, you can suggest to their being destroyed?

Absolutely not. And I would have hoped we were past the "great man" theory of history. Firstly, you do not know which figures will still be considered "famous" in the future and which currently obscure individuals may deserve and eventually receive greater attention. I note that of the three figures you mention here as notable enough to have their wills preserved, all are white, the majority are male (the one woman having achieved fame through marriage) and all were wealthy at the time of their death. Any such approach will certainly cull evidence of the lives of women, people of colour and the poor from the historical record, and send a clear message about whose lives you consider worth remembering.

Secondly, the famous and successsful are only a small part of our history. Understanding the realities that shaped our past and continue to mould our present requires evidence of the lives of so-called "ordinary people"!

Did you even speak to any historians before coming up with this idea?

Entrusting the documents to the private sector would be similarly disastrous. What happens when a private company goes bust or decides that preserving this material is no longer profitable? What reasonable person, confronted with our crumbling privatised water infrastructure, would willingly consign any part of our heritage to a similar fate?

Question 5: Do you agree that there is equivalence between paper and digital copies of wills so that the ECA 2000 can be used?

No. And it raises serious questions about the skill and knowledge base within HMCTS and the government that the very basic concepts of data loss and the digital dark age appear to be unknown to you. I also refer you to the Domesday Project.

Question 6: Are there any other matters directly related to the retention of digital or paper wills that are not covered by the proposed exercise of the powers in the ECA 2000 that you consider are necessary?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 7: If the Government pursues preserving permanently only a digital copy of a will document, should it seek to reform the primary legislation by introducing a Bill or do so under the ECA 2000?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 8: If the Government moves to digital only copies of original will documents, what do you think the retention period for the original paper wills should be? Please give reasons and state what you believe the minimum retention period should be and whether you consider the Government’s suggestion of 25 years to be reasonable.

There is no good version of this plan. The physical documents should be preserved.

Question 9: Do you agree with the principle that wills of famous people should be preserved in the original paper form for historic interest?

This question betrays deep ignorance of what "historic interest" actually is. The study of history is not simply glorified celebrity gossip. If anything, the physical wills of currently famous people could be considered more expendable as it is likely that their contents are so widely diffused as to be relatively "safe", whereas the wills of so-called "ordinary people" will, especially in aggregate, provide insights that have not yet been explored.

Question 10: Do you have any initial suggestions on the criteria which should be adopted for identifying famous/historic figures whose original paper will document should be preserved permanently?

Abandon this entire lamentable plan. As previously discussed, you do not and cannot know who will be considered "famous" in the future, and fame is a profoundly flawed criterion of historical significance.

Question 11: Do you agree that the Probate Registries should only permanently retain wills and codicils from the documents submitted in support of a probate application? Please explain, if setting out the case for retention of any other documents.

No, all the documents should be preserved indefinitely.

Question 12: Do you agree that we have correctly identified the range and extent of the equalities impacts under each of these proposals set out in this consultation? Please give reasons and supply evidence of further equalities impacts as appropriate.

No. You appear to have neglected equalities impacts entirely. As discussed, in your drive to prioritise "famous people", your plan will certainly prioritise the white, wealthy and mostly the male, as your "Charles Dickens, Charles Darwin and Princess Diana" examples amply indicate. This plan will create a two-tier system where evidence of the lives of the privileged is carefully preserved while information regarding people of colour, women, the working class and other disadvantaged groups is disproportionately abandoned to digital decay and eventual loss. Current and future historians from, or specialising in the history of minority groups will be especially impoverished by this.

#ukpol #uk politics #fuck the tories #lost media #data loss #cultural vandalism

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 14 days

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The Truth of the Matter

A four part miniseries

@wonderland-girl143-blog @gregre369 @420-hun

Part One

Part Two

Robin poured over the book that Eddie had bought at the Flea Market. She was reading it rather intensely. She looked up at Eddie.

"You said you bought this at a Flea Market?" Robin asked.

"Actually, it was free. There was this woman selling only this. I thought it was strange, especially when she wouldn't sell it until I came up. She said, "This is for you," and gave it to me," Eddie said. "I tried going back the next weekend, but she was gone, and no one ever heard of her."

"That is. . .odd," Dustin said.

"Well, everything else is in English, but the spells are in Latin," Robin said.

"No, they were all in English. I read English," Eddie said.

"Uh, Eddie, you weren't speaking in English when you said the spell," Lucas said.

"I wasn't?" He asked.

"No," Dustin, Mike, and Lucas said.

"Why are you still glaring at me, Michael?" Robin asked. "I almost punched you, but I didn't. . . Anyway, it says here that only people with Wiccan blood can automatically translate the spells in their head and perform them."

"Wait, does this mean that I'm a witch?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah."

"Holy shit! This is the COOOLEST!" Eddie yelled.

"Hey, maybe you can use your powers to help Steve find his parents," Dustin said.

"Oh, shit, that's right. . .Harrington was kidnapped," Eddie winced and whirled around. "Sorry, man."

Steve had plopped down on Eddie's throne and leaned back against it as he crossed his legs. He was staring straight ahead, looking at nothing. Eddie tried to ignore how good he looked in that chair and also the fact that he wanted to untangle his legs to sit down in his lap. His face looked troubled, so Eddie easily pushed those thoughts away.

"You okay, man?" Eddie asked.

"Steve?" Robin asked.

"Shit! Robin, who's at the store?!" Steve asked, sitting up.

"I closed the store and hitched a ride with a customer. Keith is going to be pissed but I thought you were being murdered," Robin said. "Anyway, more important things to focus on here, babe. Are you okay?"

"Well, my parents aren't my parents, which I kind of always thought, but I didn't think they kidnapped me. Do you think they might have killed my real parents?" Steve asked.

"I don't know, but we're going to fucking find out because you look like a goddamn kicked puppy and the way you're inflating your eyes like that is killing me," Eddie said as he ripped the book out of Robin's hands.

"We're just going to ignore a lot of the secrets that Steve spilled, right?" Dustin asked.

"Even the sex dream about - " Lucas started to say.

"Yes, because that's my fucking sister and Will's brother!" Mike exclaimed.

"Ah, the sex dream. Did you mention the clown sitting in the corner watching while it made balloon animals?" Robin asked.

"No!" Steve scowled. "Fucking clowns."

"Did you really touch Steve’s dick?" Dustin asked Robin.

"Yes, and my lesbianism is still very much intact," Robin said. "Thank God."

"I thought we weren't going to talk about this!" Mike yelled.

"Mike's such a prude. He's afraid to talk about sex even though we're all sentient walking water bags made of sex and flesh," Dustin said.

"Okay. Now, you just made me uncomfortable. Never describe it like that again," Eddie said.

Dustin gave him a toothy grin, and he smiled softly before looking back at the book.

"What are we going to do if my parents are like dead or on the other side of the world?" Steve asked.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, Steve," Dustin said.

"You want to know, don't you?" Robin asked.

"Yeah. . .yeah, I guess," Steve said softly. "I guess it's the feeling that I don't know what to expect here that's overwhelming me. I'm trying not to get my hopes up for really good parents."

"That makes sense," Robin said softly. "I'm sure it'll work out."

"I can't believe Eddie's allowing you to sit in his chair," Mike said. "No one sits there except for him."

"It's cause he's pretty," Eddie said without looking up, and Steve giggled. "Hey, I found it! Steve, get your gorgeous ass in the circle and take off your shirt. Oh, you also need a blank piece of paper."

"Does it really need me to take off my shirt?" Steve asked.

"Yes it does," Eddie said seriously.

Dustin looked over his shoulder, frowned, and opened his mouth to say something. Eddie quickly put his arm around him and pulled his face to his chest, cooing at him. Steve looked doubtfully at him for a moment before getting up off the chair and pulling off his shirt. Dustin shoved Eddie away, scowling at him. Eddie grinned at Steve as he moved back into the circle with a sheet of paper. Eddie relit the candles and got the others to stand around Steve.

"Am I good?" Steve asked.

"Hold on, you need to be a little bit more even," Eddie frowned.

He placed his hands on Steve’s hips and moved him slightly.

"I think you're just finding any excuse to touch me," Steve smirked.

"Who? Me?" Eddie asked innocently.

"If I look in the book, it's not going to say I need to be shirtless, is it?" He asked.

Eddie smirked and moved his hands to Steve’s stomach. He dragged his fingertips up, moving softly over his skin. Steve shuddered. He rested his hands on his pecs for a moment before moving them to his shoulders.

"On your knees, big boy," Eddie said as he pushed him to his knees.

"I just want to remind you that there are children in the room, and one of them is me!" Robin yelled and Eddie jumped.

"What were we doing?" He asked as he blinked a lot.

"Oh my God! Finding Steve’s parents!" Dustin shrieked. "Have your way with our babysitter later!"

"You act like it's my fault!" Eddie exclaimed. "Tell Steve to stop being so pretty!"

"Steve! Stop it!"

"I can't help it! It just naturally happens," Steve smirked.

"Well, since you're not human, I guess you could say it's SUPERnatural," Robin said.

Robin and Steve giggled before high fiving each other. Dustin sighed.

"Steve, do you want to find your parents or not?" Dustin asked.

"Not if you're going to have that attitude," Steve scowled.

"It's his tone, right?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, let's get this done before our kid has a conniption," Steve said.

"He's really eager to meet his grandparents," Eddie cackled.

"Oh, now, you're in on the joke?" Dustin asked as Mike and Lucas laughed.

"Yeah," Steve and Eddie said.

Eddie opened the book and began to chant. The lights flickered, and the flames from the candles shot up in the air. Wind whipped around the room as Eddie continued to say the spell. Steve twitched and then shook before falling backward. He started shrieking in pain as the paper fell from his hands.

"Eddie! Stop! Stop! STOP! SOMETHING'S WRONG!" Lucas yelled.

Eddie stopped the chant, and as soon as he did, Steve stopped screaming.

"My back, my back. . .something's on my back," Steve said.

Eddie shut the book and rushed so quickly to get to him that he ended up sliding across the floor on his knees. He turned Steve over to find a painful looking rune flaring up in the middle of his back.

"What the fuck is that?" Mike asked.

Eddie opened the book and began flipping through the pages, cursing as he did so. Meanwhile, he had Steve’s head in his lap, blinking up at him.

"Okay, it says here that it's some sort of rune of protection. . . Against fae. . .you know, fairies. . .a witch placed it on you," Eddie said. "Well, that's fucked. . . No wonder your parents couldn't find you. . .well, let's see if we can't get this fucker off of you. . . Shit, I hope I can do this. . .it says I need to be related to the witch who placed the rune on you."

Eddie took one hand off the book and began stroking Steve’s hair. He muttered something, and the page turned. He did that quite a few times as he read.

"Eddie, what did you say to the book?" Mike asked.

"Oh, I said,"Turn the page." I guess I was speaking in Latin again," Eddie said.

"That's so cool," Dustin muttered.

"Okay. . .getting this rune off is going to hurt a lot. . .do you want to do this?" Eddie asked Steve.

"I'm used to a little pain. Bring it," Steve said.

"Okay, sit up," Eddie said and pulled a knife out of his pocket.

Steve sat up, putting himself on his knees again. Eddie sat behind him and muttered something else. The spellbook floated in front of him, and he opened the knife. Eddie sighed and hesitated before placing a kiss on Steve’s shoulders blade.

"Is that part of the spell?" Steve asked.

"No, it's just going to fucking hurt a lot. It's basically me cutting it out. . .so, yeah. . .sorry, so, so, so sorry," Eddie said.

He muttered another spell as he looked at the book and held the knife over a flame, letting it get hot. He chanted for a moment, and the flames flared up around the blade. Eddie hovered the blade above the rune and started to say the spell as he moved the knife as though he was actually cutting it off. Steve let out an inhuman shriek, his yells bouncing off the walls. The wind picked up, the flames grew higher, and the lights above them exploded as Eddie continued to chant. Tears rolled down Steve’s cheek as he threw his head back. Finally, Eddie stopped, and Steve collapsed in relief.

"Shit, that did hurt," Steve said, and he paused when he didn't get a response. "Eddie?"

Steve turned around and found Eddie still sitting on his knees. Blood was pouring out of his nose. He swayed and fell backward. Steve moved over to him and cradled him in his arms.

"Eddie?" He asked.

"There was a suggestion in the book to not overdo it. I was just like. . .fuck it, I can do it. I'm fine, I'm fine. . .I just need someone's lips on mine," Eddie said and closed his eyes, puckering his lips.

"Alright, I'll just go find Principal Higgins, shall I?" Dustin asked, peering over Steve’s shoulder.

"I'm up, I'm up!" Eddie sat up quickly. "Oh, too fast! Sleepy. . ."

He pressed his cheek against Steve’s chest and closed his eyes again. His snores filled the room.

"I guess we'll take him back to my place," Steve said and picked him up.

Robin pulled out a tissue and wiped Eddie's nose.

"Hey, Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Your tits are still out, you slut."

"Right. Thanks, Robin."

When Eddie woke up, he found himself in a very ugly room. Plaid walls, plaid curtains, plaid sheets. . .Eddie screamed. He screamed louder at the single car poster hanging on the wall. . .it was all so sad. Steve burst into the room, wielding a bat with nails.

"Steve, where the hell am I?" Eddie asked.

"My house and my room," Steve said.

"Oh my God, this is your room? This is hell, Steve," Eddie said in horror.

"Well, my parents like everything neat," Steve said.

"You mean, your kidnappers," Eddie corrected.

"Right," Steve frowned. "Come on, let's get something in you."

"Hell yeah!" Eddie exclaimed and started unbuttoning his pants.

"What are you doing? I was talking about food. There's pizza downstairs," Steve said.

"Yeah, that's what I was talking about," Eddie said quickly. "I was just unbuttoning them to make room for the pizza."

"Right," Steve smirked. "As much as I would love to do that with you, some secrets should remain secret. I do not want the kids to know that I'm a screamer. Let's go, sweet cheeks."

Steve slapped his ass and Eddie cursed.

"I hate you!"

"No, you don't!"

Dustin immediately threw his arms around Eddie the minute he walked into the kitchen. Steve smiled softly at the sight of them and ruffled his hair.

"You scared the shit out of us, man," Dustin said. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Just needed some rest," Eddie grinned. "What time is it?"

"Almost midnight. Are you going to do the location spell again?" Mike asked.

"He just woke up, Mike. Let's get some food in him first," Steve sighed.

"After I eat," Eddie said, snapping his fingers at him.

Sitting down to eat, Eddie spent the majority of the meal laughing with the kids and playing with what he thought was Steve’s leg under the table. It had been Robin's.

"You could have told me!" Eddie hissed.

"Then it wouldn't have been funny," Robin replied.

They gathered in the living room and pushed the furniture out of the way to create the circle. Eddie knelt in front of Steve this time, the book floating beside them, and the piece of paper on the floor.

"You don't have to do this, you know," Steve said.

"I kind of do. . .I judged you harshly before. . .because you're a jock and because of the assholes who's bothered us in the past. I used to think that since you had a big house and a fancy car that you had it easy. I used to mock you mercilessly in Hellfire, and that wasn't right of me to do that," Eddie said. "Not all jocks are bad."

"Well, no one is perfect," Steve said. "This is a lot even for all of that. Thank you, you're a good man."

"I mean, so are you," Eddie said, blushing. "I'm still an asshole though."

"Yeah, that's true," Steve said with a grin.

Steve cupped the back of his neck and pulled him for a kiss. It was short and sweet. When Steve pulled away, Eddie let out a soft giggle.

"I am loving this," Dustin grinned and then frowned. "But also, gross."

"Yeah, kids never like it when their parents kiss," Robin said, and Dustin sighed loudly.

Grinning, Eddie performed the spells without any problems. Words appeared on the paper. One of them was an address in Indianapolis, and one of them was a plot number for the cemetery in Hawkins.

"Well, shit, I guess one of my parents is dead," Steve frowned.

"Sorry, Steve," Dustin said quietly.

"We don't have to do it tonight, but we can check out the cemetery whenever you want to," Robin said.

"I'm curious now, and at least, I'll get one answer tonight," Steve said. "Although, going at night seems like a bad idea."

"Don't be a chicken shit, Steve, let's do it," Dustin grinned.

So, now, here they were. . .at night. . .in a fucking graveyard. They had flashlights, and Steve made sure to bring his trusty bat. Meanwhile, Robin made sure to bring a thermos full of hot cocoa that she was currently sharing with the boys in front of them. Eddie was walking beside Steve, swinging his arms and letting his hand brush up against Steve’s.

"So, was that kiss just a one-time thing, or are you planning on doing it again?" Eddie asked.

"I definitely want to do it again. . . Would that be okay?" Steve asked.

"Definitely," Eddie grinned and then paused. "You said back in the drama room that you'd always be in love with Nancy Wheeler."

"Well, yeah, a part of me, anyways. There's just so much history there, and she's just so. . . Nancy. She's beautiful, and she cares so much about people. She's willing to put it all on the line for her friends and for her family. She's the bravest person that I have ever met. I don't regret falling in love with her. . . But I regret that I didn't get to know her best friend and I wish I could have been there for her when she needed me the most. I know what happened to Barb wasn't our fault, but I still can't help feeling guilty. I think there's always going to be that connection between us," Steve said.

"I know that Barb died, and she was Wheeler's best friend, but isn't it that Brenner's guys fault? The one Dustin told me about?" Eddie asked. "Why would you feel guilty?"

"Well, it was the first time that Nancy and I had sex together. While that was going on in my house, Barb was being dragged into the Upside Down and . . . Well, you know. . ." Steve said.

"Holy fucking shit. . .yeah, I could see how that could mess you both up," Eddie said.

"Yeah. . .it's pathetic, I know. . ." Steve said.

"No, man, it's not. You're not pining after her, you love her, and you accept the fact that you're not going to be together. I can see why either of you would want to hold onto the good parts of your relationship. You all have been through so much shit and if you guys can come through it all while still having love in your hearts. . . It's amazing," Eddie said.

"Yeah," Steve smiled and paused. "Have you ever been in love?"

"I've come close. I think at the time, we both had stars in our eyes, and all we saw when we looked at each other were plane tickets out of town. In the end, I couldn't leave town, but she could have, and after everything she did for me, I couldn't go with her. I wish I had done it better, but yeah, I pushed her away so she wouldn't come back," Eddie said.

"Damn, you white fanged her?" Steve asked.

"I mean, I guess you could call it that," Eddie said. "You know White Fang?"

"Yeah, it's not my favorite," he said and paused. "I wish things had gone better with. . ."

"Paige," Eddie said.

"Paige," Steve said.

"I wish things had gone better with Nancy," Eddie replied.

"Yeah," he said softly.

"You like women, too?" Steve asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "It took me a while to realize that I liked men at all or that I was even flirting with them. According to my best friend, Ronnie, it's not exactly very straight of me to go on rants about jocks' sweaty muscles."

"Was I in one of those rants?" Steve asked as he stopped and turned to Eddie.

He pulled Eddie into his arms, wrapping his arms around his waist.

"You were very prominent," Eddie said bashfully.

"Maybe you didn't hate me at all," Steve said, his eyes twinkling. "Maybe you just had a type."

Eddie kissed him, and Steve smiled against his lips. Eddie wrapped his arms around his neck as he deepened the kiss, moaning into his mouth.

"REALLY ROMANTIC, STEVE, MAKING OUT IN A GRAVEYARD!" Dustin yelled. "YOU'RE KISSING OVER DEAD PEOPLE!"

Eddie growled as he broke the kiss and Steve bit his lip to keep from laughing.

"NO ONE IS SUPPOSE TO KNOW WE'RE HERE BUT IF YOU KEEP YELLING LIKE THAT THEY'RE GOING TO. . .BUTTHEAD!" Eddie yelled back at him.

"FOUND IT!" Lucas yelled.

"I don't think they understand the word subtle," Steve sighed. "Although, neither do you, so they're definitely yours."

"Were there doubts?" Eddie asked with a dramatic gasp.

Steve smiled softly at him, grabbed his hand, and laced their fingers together before pulling him in the direction of the kids. When they got to them, Robin and the kids were whispering together.

"There's no fucking way!" Mike exclaimed. "He never had kids!"

"That you know of. I imagine that it was probably painful to talk about your son getting kidnapped and being unable to find him in your own hometown," Dustin said.

"What? What is it?" Steve asked.

"Are we even sure it's the right plot?" Mike asked.

"Yes!" Dustin and Lucas exclaimed.

Steve moved towards the gravestone and shined his flashlight on it.

BOB NEWBY

SUPERHERO

Part Three

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talesofesther · 1 month

Text

until one of us caves

Rolan x Reader

Summary: After fighting Lorroakan, you decide to stay with Rolan.

A/N: I know that like maybe three people are gonna read this but I couldn't care less. The more I learned about Rolan's story, the bigger of a soft spot I got, and this little thought wouldn't leave my head so I had to write this down. Nothing serious, just something I wish I could do in the game. Also, this story kinda drifted a little from the original plan about halfway through and started writing itself, so don't blame me if the quality is dubious lmao. Requests for him are open I guess, if anyone's interested.

Word count: 3k

Masterlist

The scent of smoke and ash hung in the air. Stones and mud, remains of the elementals, littered the floor of Ramazith's Tower; as well as a few burned books here and there, smashed furniture, and splatters of blood in the marble. It would take a while to get the place back to the glory it could hold, but you figured it was doable.

The body of its previous master lay lifeless on the floor, spine broken, skin torn. You held no pity for him, only resentment.

From the corner of your eyes, you could spot a twitching tail and clenched fists, staring blankly at the body of his tormentor. He said nothing, merely huffed and walked away before you could think of saying anything, your gaze followed his steps.

The time between when you'd first set foot in Sorcerous Sundries and now had gone by in a haze. You had stopped dead in your tracks then, breath hitching as you caught sight of the countless bruises on Rolan's skin, and an overwhelming sense of protectiveness took over you. You'd walked up to him, the words "Who did this to you?" were stumbling past your lips before he even had the chance to utter the practiced greeting. Rolan had evaded the matter, as you'd expected, building ever higher walls around himself. And you'd surprised yourself with how restless the sight of him had made you feel.

"Soldier?" Karlach's hand on your shoulder pulled you back to the present, making you quickly turn your head back to her.

You blinked several times until your eyes regained their focus; "yeah?"

She gave you a halfhearted smile and you wondered just how much your turmoil showed on your face. "I was just asking if you're alright, and… where do we go from here." Her voice held kindness to it, as it usually did. More often than not Karlach was, surprisingly, a calming balm in your hectic days.

"Uh-" you hesitated. Perhaps you should already be used to being the one people turned to in search of guidance, leadership. But it was a title you'd never really asked for, was it?

"You guys should go ahead, dispose of him somewhere," you gestured to Lorroakan's lifeless form, "before anyone walks in on… all of this."

Karlach nodded along and then raised a brow at you. "And what of you?" She asked, yet there was a smirk on her lips that alluded to the fact that she already knew the answer.

"I'll hang back." Your cheeks warmed up, "I'll meet you guys at Elfsong later."

"Take your time, soldier," Karlach winked at you, then turned to hurl the dead Wizard's body over her shoulder. "Right let's go people, nothing left to see here."

"And how exactly do you intend to walk around the city with that?" Shadowheart asked exasperatedly, yet followed Karlach to the swirling portal nonetheless.

The tiefling shrugged, holding Lorroakan's body with one arm, "I don't know. If anyone asks we'll just say he's drunk or something."

"Are you out of your mind?"

"Oh, I want to see that."

Shadowheart and Astarion added simultaneously, one rolling her eyes and the other smiling brightly.

"Alright then, you think of some excuse for-"

You chuckled at the banter of your companions, their voices growing distant as they disappeared through the portal that would take them back to the bustle of Sorcerous Sundries.

With a deep breath in and a long exhale out, you turned around, gaze slowly roaming over the empty expanse of the luxurious tower; now so quiet, bordering on serene, save for the damage the battle left behind. Until you finally spotted the one you were looking for.

Rolan was tucked away in a shadowy corner, head bowed as he stacked a few fallen books on his hands and then beside each other on the shelves. His movements all stiff and slow, as if the books were much too heavy and it hurt to carry them.

The worry twirling in your stomach threatened to escape as you took careful steps towards him. Yet you still weren't sure how to approach him. The tower suddenly held a nearly intimate air. It was delicate, fragile. The lines between you and him had started to blur, you couldn't pinpoint when, but they did; and now, in the privacy of the high tower, you started to feel the weight of it.

You cleared your throat, but the tiefling didn't turn to look at you, though his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. You wondered if he knew you'd stayed, or perhaps hoped you would.

"Rolan… would you like some help with organizing things a little? At least for the night?" You tried, unsure what else you could possibly say and biting back the urge to tell him that he looked like he needed a good night's rest. He wouldn't admit it, you knew; but the fight had taken a huge toll on his already bruised body. He looked utterly exhausted; shoulders slumped, tail laying limply on the floor, barely holding himself together.

He turned his head to glance at you, an unreadable expression on his face, and lips hovering with uncertainty for a moment. "No, I can manage…" Rolan's voice was quiet, his features softly highlighted by the last fading rays of sunshine coming through the tall windows. You could see the bruises on his cheek, jaw, and nose—some new, some old; darker shades blooming on his reddish skin.

"You can go," he turned away again.

"Are you… sure?" You took half a step forward, fidgeting with your own hands. You didn't feel like leaving him just yet.

"Yes. I'm sure." He finally faced you fully in a quick motion, eyebrows slightly furrowed, "I'm not a helpless child, I can at least take care of organizing this mess by myself, if nothing else."

You closed your eyes momentarily at his words, "That's- that's not what I meant, I know you can-"

"What is it you want then? That I thank you for saving my sorry ass? Again?" His tone held bite to it, anger even, yet you had a feeling that it wasn't directed at you, but at himself. With a huff, he threw aside the one book he still held in his hands, "Okay then, thank you, your heroic attitude of the day has been achieved." He gestured toward you, speaking as if he had been just another thing to check off your list.

The movement of his mouth had pried open a fresh cut he had on his lip. Rolan didn't seem to notice, but the small sliver of blood glinted in the low light. Your heart ached, but not for his words, they were mostly empty. It ached because you saw how much he was hurting. That defeated look lingered in his golden eyes, the same you'd seen at Last Light Inn when he had been incapable of rescuing his siblings. You wished you could tell him he was enough. You wished he would believe you.

You took in a steadying breath, holding onto your composure for both of your sakes. "It's not about being a hero, Rolan, it's about helping the people I care about."

Another scoff fell past his lips, he avoided your eyes, looking distantly out the window beside him; "What are you doing here then?"

You merely raised an eyebrow at him, features soft, allowing him to believe in whatever he wanted to believe.

His throat worked through a heavy gulp when he glanced at you again, tail swishing behind him as he took half a step back. "Sod off," the words came out heavy and unstable, "You came here because Lorroakan was after your Aasimar friend… Your job is done now, you can leave." He stormed past you then, quick steps taking him to the other side of the tower.

With a roll of your eyes, you followed after him, "I came here because I care about you, too." You tried to convey as much sincerity in your words as you could, staring intently at his back as he raised a fallen chair. You caught a glimpse of his tail, coiled tightly around his own leg. You wondered if he even realizes he's doing it, if it's some kind of self-soothing habit he's learned over the years.

His hair had been undone, too, falling freely over his shoulders and looking a tad longer than what you were used to. The look suited him—a touch of softness in his usually sharp appearance—in the back of your mind you promised yourself to tell him that someday.

Several beats of silence went by. With Rolan holding tightly onto the back of the wooden chair. You tended to be annoyingly insistent, the tiefling thought to himself. Ever since the first time he met you, you had a habit of refusing to give up on people. On him. Rolan tried to tell himself it didn't get to him, that the butterflies in his stomach, and the overwhelming relief your mere presence brought him meant absolutely nothing. Because of course, you wouldn't look twice at someone like him, would you?

It was ironically sad that his heart would choose you—the hero, his hero—of all people, to have a soft spot for. He could never measure up, not really, and he knew that; told himself that very fact over and over whenever his mind dared to hope with what-ifs.

"You don't mean that," his voice was small and he berated himself for allowing it to be. He closed his eyes tightly, knuckles growing white with his grip on the chair. "And I was fine," Rolan emphasized the words yet he didn't know anymore if he was trying to convince you or himself.

Silence engulfed the tower again. Deafening silence. One sharp claw tapped the back of the wooden chair, a fast rhythm, following the heartbeat thundering through his veins. With a defeated sigh, Rolan turned to face you. Still, he refused to meet your eyes, focusing instead on the fabric of your glove wrapped around your hand; he could see faint scars on your fingers, wondered how you got them.

"Were you, really?" You asked then, softly, near desperately; waiting with bated breath for him to just look at you.

Rolan was a little difficult to get to, had been since you first met him. Part of you rather enjoyed your harmless bickering every now and then. Behind the witty words, there had always been hidden smiles and bashful eyes, the hopeful glint of being in each other's presence, if briefly.

Alas, you weren't exactly entitled to pry or demand, much as you cared for him it wasn't your place, so you relented; "Tell me you're alright, truly alright, and I'll leave if that's what you want so bad."

Rolan hesitated for a heartbeat, and then two, and three. Any words he might want to say were stuck in his throat, tangled in between feelings that confused the hells out of him. How could he ever tell you that he's not alright? That he hasn't been for a long time?

How could he tell you that he doesn't want you to leave, ever?

There was a distant stinging behind his eyes and he hated himself for it, for being so needy and vulnerable. He hated how his palms were sweaty and his heart threatened to break free of his ribcage with the speed it was beating. He hated how his knees seemed on the brink of collapsing with his weight. He hated how he suddenly felt all the bruises in his body hurting so badly, as if only now he allowed himself to feel the pain they inflicted. He hated-

A soft touch on his lower lip halted Rolan's spiraling thoughts abruptly, and his breath. With the sleeve of your robe, movement as light as a feather, you cleaned a sliver of blood that had escaped the fresh cut there. Rolan shuddered under your touch, for like a breath of fresh air after nearly drowning to death, that was all he could feel.

Pointy teeth dug into the inside of his cheek, holding back what would only be a flood of embarrassment for him if he allowed his pestering emotions to spill. His throat closed up tight, vision growing hazy until you were nothing but a blur in front of him.

There was something about the way you touched him oh so tenderly that got his walls tumbling down as if they were paper under the rain. Your hand lingered, refusing to part from him. Your fingers trailed a hesitant path to his cheek, mapping the bruises underneath- no, mapping his skin, him.

And he could crumble. Rolan felt himself falling, falling, falling.

When was the last time he felt a kind touch? one that didn't hurt or sting or threatened? He couldn't recall.

"I do mean it, I care about you, Rolan." You promised him, and only him. Whispered words dripping with affection.

The front of your boots hit his shoes as you took a final step closer. Rolan brought one hand up, his fingers closing around your wrist with urgency. Yet his hold was gentle, pressing into the veins there and feeling your pulse running beneath his fingertips. He held you there, all but begging you to stay. Words were difficult, complicated, and messy; hopefully his soul could tell you what he couldn't.

With your heart in your mouth, you mumbled; "it's okay. It's over." You're not sure if he heard or felt the words, but Rolan dipped his head forward until his forehead bumped yours.

Suddenly close wasn't close enough. You wanted to kiss away his tears, his bruises, his pain; promise him that everything would be alright now even if your own life was a sea of uncertainty.

"Why?" It fell past his lips. Such a genuine question uttered with such a small voice that it hurt you like a dagger to the heart.

"Why do these things happen to me?" Rolan's voice cracked and stumbled, his eyebrows briefly furrowed in a mix of anger and sorrow. "I-" he breathed in deep and unsteady, bright eyes welling with unshed tears that shone brightly under the soft candlelights on the walls.

You gulped back your own heartache, struggling to keep to yourself how soft he made you feel. You slowly raised your other hand to push fallen strands of hair behind his ear.

"I hoped it had a purpose," he admitted then, quiet as breath. His lower lip quivered before he spoke again, closing his eyes and leaning timidly towards your touch. "That it was a test, and he would- he would eventually stop. That I just needed to endure a while longer."

A choked sob stumbled past his lips and you felt the first of his tears landing on your thumb. Rolan shook his head, a self-deprecating scoff falling past his lips; "that I deserved it."

"Stop," you said before you could think, finally taking your hand away from his cheek, only to bury it into his hair instead. With the encouragement you knew he needed, you pulled him to you.

Rolan fell forward with no restraints, no hesitations, only a weary soul looking for solace. He buried his head between your neck and shoulder, both arms coming around your waist and squeezing tightly, to the point of his claws nearly ripping your robe.

You held him back with the same desperation, one hand tangling in between his hair and cradling his head to you. Your lips brushed the nape of his neck in a silent confession of adoration.

The fabric of your robe grew damp as silent tears fell past Rolan's defenses, his body shaking in your hold, releasing months if not years of bottled-up emotions.

With a kiss to his warm skin, embers of the fire he ignited in your heart broke free; "You could never deserve what he did to you. You're so very special, Rolan. To Cal, To Lia…" You told him, slow and tender, twirling strands of his hair between your fingers, and a small smile stretched your lips when you felt him relaxing against you. "… To me." It was nothing but a whisper, blown into the wind only for him to hear.

Rolan's breath stumbled, you felt it in the way he gripped you tighter—if that was even possible—and heard it in the soft gasp beside your ear.

"Please don't-" His voice broke in the middle, all husky and wobbly from his tears. "Don't say… that. If you don't mean-" he hesitated, fresh tears cascading freely down his cheeks, beyond any foolish attempt to be held back; they dripped down the bridge of his nose and soaked the fabric of your robe, making him curl into you all the more to hide his embarrassment from the outside world.

"Please," it was so quiet as he pleaded. For what, he wasn't entirely sure anymore. Maybe he just knew he couldn't take losing anything else.

You pulled back and Rolan felt his heart stumbling and cracking in his chest. But you were quick to mend it back together, with both hands coming up to hold his cheeks again, your thumbs brushing away the wetness there, near reverently.

"I promise," you whispered, gaze drifting ever so slightly downward before focusing back on his bright eyes. You were bold enough to lean in until the tip of your nose touched his, and as you did so you felt something coiling around your leg. You smiled; "I promise."

Rolan gulped, his mouth parting as he barely held himself back from closing the gap between you. Goosebumps littered his whole body when his upper lip accidentally brushed yours.

He pulled away but refused to loosen his grip on your waist. "I don't want you to leave," he said it so quietly, offering you his bleeding heart with a shaking hand.

Gentle fingers brushed away the messy strands of hair clinging to his forehead. When Rolan looked up, there was a loving smile on your lips, it was the first time he saw it and he already knew he'd kill to see it again.

You leaned closer, and with a kiss between his brows, you said; "then I'll stay."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Rolan’s taglist: @milkiane@v1ci0us

#rolan #rolan x reader #rolan bg3 #holy rolan empire #rolan x tav #rolan baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #rolan imagine #rolan x female reader #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #rolan fanfic #my story

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lordgrimoire · 1 year

Text

The Goonion would Like a Word, Chapter 3

[Goonion Headquarters, Gotham, New Jersey]

“ORDER! ORDER I SAY!” The warehouse, once a hideout for a minor gang operating out of The Narrows, fell into a hush as the hundreds of gangsters shuffled back into their seats or places of observation, keeping their hands occupied with papers, phones, tablets, as long as they were out in the open and away from their weapons, that was good. “Alright.” The haggard voice of Bill, the local head of The Goonion, echoed across the room.

“The Ghost Investigation Ward, or the Guys in White as some call them, have been confirmed by the Red Hood Gang to be encroaching upon Gotham, Bludhaven, and Metropolis.” The crowd murmured at that, distress and frustration in their stances. “Yeah yeah, I know, It’s a crappy situations, specially since they want to do some unethical experimentation on the whole lot of us, Crane may actually be better than that now a days but the Joker is at The GIW’s level of things, on a good day, at worse they may be WORSE than the Joker’s “Experiments”. So keep your eyes peeled and if you see em grabbing any of ours, that includes your local Vigilantes, then make a call and get involved, the Bats may steal our bones and make our work difficult but at least they have rules. unlike these petty punks. QUESTIONS! DO YOU HAVE ‘EM?”

The room became a shouting match for a moment before settling into several people bullying their way into the center of the warehouse, at the base of the pile of crates that Bill was using for his podium. After some muttering a short man stepped up onto one of the lower crates. “We recognize the leader of the Goonion members serving under The Red Hood, go ahead Mister Kincaid.” Kincaid nodded.

“What are the rules of engagement? Or are we suspending those since these White Suited Bastards seem to look at the Geneva Conventions and the Laws of the Alley as more of a checklist than a warning?” Bill looked around before straightening.

“I’ve spoken with the Reps from as far East as Boston to as far West as Anchorage, until the Anti-Ecto Acts and GIW are suspended and disbanded the rules of Engagement will be To The Hilt, expect No Mercy, if they catch you, they will torture you, so give back as good as you can, unless you have your bosses or your local Cape nearby. Make Noise in that case, try to get the Bat’s attention, he likes them less than we do.” The room rippled with laughter as Kincaid surrendered his stand to a well dressed woman in a three piece suit and top hat, one of Penguins Goons. “We recognize the Icebergs head of security Miss Eliza Smith.”

“What do we do with anything we take from them? Their, Ecto-Blasters? They use Bazooka’s for Pete's sake!” Bill scratched his jaw as he looked around at the amassed Goons.

“Alright, we can keep those guns stashed away, until we know what they do you keep them as secured as possible, Remember we DO have a warehouse for such things.” The crowd murmured, if the GIW was packing THIS much heat then some plans had to be made. As Miss Smith stepped back down back into the swarm of other Penguin Goons another man stepped forward, wearing a bomber jacket with a question mark stitched on the breast pocket. “We Recognize Jonathan O’Brien of The Riddler’s crew.”

“Why are the GIW here? I read the brief but I’m not all that sure what “Ectoplasm” is.” Agreements were uttered by others in the crowd as Bill reached into the backpack by his feet and drawing out a sheaf of papers.

“Gotham,” He began, “Is on a thin patch of reality, the other side? The Afterlife? That’s on the other side, the only other thin patch in the US is a place called Amity Park and that place has been under siege for YEARS by the GIW, but there's the possibility of a portal opening here in Gotham, so the GIW is planning to put us to the same type of siege, few in, few out. Ectoplasm is the equivalent to matter, to molecules and the like, in the realms of the dead, it’s radioactive to a degree, with people exposed to it for long amounts of time becoming “Liminals”, living beings who gain some abilities, usually becoming more durable and observant, blending more with their environment, hell I think the bats and birds are liminal to some degree, and some of our bosses, some of US, and some of our common civvie friends who live in Gotham are Liminals, Jason Todd-Wayne, the primary rep for The Red Hood Gang, was dead for a while, and came back somehow, current assumption is that he’s a Liminal of a higher order of magnitude. If you have friends or family members who have experienced something similar, please show them the documents regarding Liminals that were with the brief, that answer your question O’Brien?” O’Brien nodded and stepped down, no one else stepped forward. “Alright then, all leaders stick around for information packets, everyone else, go home, keep an eye on things, and try not to walk on any graves. I call this meeting of the Goonion to a close.” With that Bill slammed his foot on the crate and the crowd began flowing out of the Warehouse, mostly in small groups and pairs, but no one left alone.

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In a small town called Spittoon in Arkansas a small family of four waited, watching from a tree line as darkness filled the sky, drowning the last of the sunlight as instead the sky filled with specks of light, the stars coming into visibility as The Sun’s rays dimmed.

“Your sure you have everything?” Jazz looked over at her Aunt, still hovering near, still armed with a rifle that could probably take someone’s head off.

“Yep, just waiting on Extract.” Her Aunt nodded, patting her shoulder before ruffling Ellie’s hair and walking over to Danny. He had taken their parents alleged deaths the hardest, after they had begun accepting his Ghostly half and trying to understand more. Unfortunately when they presented their “New Research” to the GIW, they were deemed compromised. Once they had found that out they had enacted contingencies, locking the portal from the Living side, ensuring the only blueprints were with their children for ANY of their designs, and then taking the GIW on a goose chase as far in the opposite direction of where Jazz, Danny, and Ellie had fled as possible.

They made it to Olympia in Washington State, where the Ops Center had finally been forced to ground. Danny hadn’t felt anything but the reports that the “Mad Doctors Fenton” had been killed in a standoff had dealt a blow to him.

“Danny?” The boy looked up at his Aunt Alicia, “You’ll make it through, Maddie has always been built of sturdy stuff, and Jack is just the same.” The boy nodded, seemingly dragged from whatever thoughts were clouding his mind. The wind picked up an hour later as the four of them sat in the grass, no one had pulled out flashlights but the descending aircraft turned a single floodlight on, bathing the clearing in light before the hatch opened, and out stepped Red Hood.

Alicia turns her attention to her younger Nephew and Niece, allowing Jazz and Hood [one Jason Todd, apparently] and checked them over one last time before hearing a cleared throat behind her. When she looked over she saw the giant of a man who had taken an interest in her niece and suffice to say, he was not as tall as Jazz had made him sound. “He’s shorter than I thought he’d be.” Danny and Ellie cackled behind her as they began lugging their bags over to Jazz, Hood’s helmet not giving away his expression as he slumped slightly.

“Really?” Alicia smiled and patted his shoulder.

“Your not the biggest person I’ve met, these pipsqueaks will take after their Father more than likely, a little collection of giants if you will.” She could hear the poor bastard rolling his eyes. “Anyways, everything set up for them?” She crossed her arms, watching as Red Hood straightened out more.

“Yes, Jazz’s college credits have been transferred, their identities have been hidden and new ones have been confirmed, by the way I still want to know who made those, their good. And I think I’ve found a school for Danny and Ellie.” The Groans that sounded from the two youngest was like music to her ears, she nodded in approval. “I also told some of my extended family about, well, all the stuff going on, so they’ll have people looking out for them who are in the good end of the law.” Alicia raised a brow.

“Like the Bat?” Hood seemed to still and turn slightly. “It’s not hard to figure out if you have some of the pieces, Jazz didn’t even tell me, you were the Second Robin I take it?” Hood stared at her for a moment before nodding. “Alright, good to have that theory confirmed, we’re all a little too curious for our own good, us Walkers always have been, you take care of them, got it?” Hood nodded again, seeming far more sure of himself now, good, she’d hate to spook him too badly. “Good, now,” She unslung her rifle, unloaded the old bolt action, and handed it handle first to Hood, “A little something, that thing’s been in my family for years, This was my Grand Uncle’s first, then my Pop’s, then mine when Maddie didn’t want to have a “Live Firearm” in the house, I know the GIW will come snooping, but I’ve got my own plans for them, if they work out, expect me or a letter within six months.” She turned to her Nieces and Nephews who had come up behind Red Hood. “Be good, be safe, and don’t let them take you quietly, I love you all.” She stepped past Hood, embraced each of her Sister’s children one last time and stepped back, nodding to them before retreating to the edge of the clearing. When she turned around to watch as her the floodlight shut off and the plane rose into the sky, she knew she’d see them again, it may just take longer. She stayed in that clearing for a time after they were well out of eyesight, a fistful of rifle rounds in her pocket, a bowie knife in her boot, and plans, ever churning, in her mind. Alicia Walker had work to do.

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[BEGIN TRANSMISSION, PENTAGON TO JL STATION:WATCHTOWER]

PENT: Prepare for Information Packet.

PENT: [FOLDER.FEDGOV.GIW.A-EA]

JLWATCH: Pentagon whose authority is this coming from.

PENT: Negative, Good Luck. Check on Captain Marvel.

JLWATCH: Pentagon?

JLWATCH: Pentagon Respond.

-SESSION TERMINATED-

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To: Batman, Superman, WanderWoman

From: Comms Officer Sam Thule

Subject: The Anti-Ecto Acts and Ghost Investigation Ward

Boss, the Pentagon just sent us some stuff, I think you need to see this. If you can get Captain Marvel up here too we’ll need him here soon.

[SEE ATTACHMENTS]

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Tag Section

@cass-brightwood @justwannabecat @luckykittens198 @vythika96 @ultimatebluff @amercurio @tkiesai @escelia @jaggedheart11 @lexdamo @ascetic-orange @botwadtict @nutcase8691 @delicioushologramperson @sailor-goddess @meira-3919 @icedbluesoul ALRIGHTY TAGGED FOLKS! IF YOU WANT TO CHECK ON THIS SERIES I WILL BE UPDATING THE LIST BELOW WHENEVER I UPDATE! SO USE THAT! [I may or may not link this chapter or further ones in a similar way, my brain is like, non operable at the moment.]

Links to other Chapters

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

#dp x dc #danny phantom #dc x dp #danny fenton #jason todd #batfamily #batman #bruce wayne #damian wayne #gotham #The Goonion #Bill the henchman #The Goonion V The GIW #the justice league

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aphroditesmoon · 1 year

Note

hello dear! i love your works so much and just have seen you write for wednesday?? (shame on me) if it's ok with you, can you please write hcs about xavier x jealous!reader? like she has a crush on him but thinks he's head over heels with wednesday so distance herself and become kinda passive-aggressive? i can see hurt/comfort and fluff but absolutely up to you! thank u in advance! take care!

how to get out of love

xavier thorpe x reader

warnings: angst, dumbass xavier

a/n: hello lovely, I know you asked for hcs but I overworked myself🫶 for all the early requests w similar tropes, I'm sorry I took so long!

part two

°°°

If there was one thing you lacked that Wednesday Addams doesn't, it's the absence of a heart.

And your heart has been beating for the tortured artist since you've crossed paths.

He wasn't like all the other incels that made you uncomfortable or the bullies who made you cry, no.

He was just a gentle awkward and talented soul. That was why you liked him, one thing you two seemed to have in common is that you both feel immensely.

Yet these days it seemed he's been having less time to notice your lack of enthusiasm, not when he's busy trying to get new girl Wednesday Addams, resident sociopath, to notice him.

It's a lost cause! She doesn't want to be loved by him, you did, why couldn't he see that?

You were sure one of these days she'd end up giving him a piece of her mind, and you look forward to that day.

What you didn't expect, was her asking him to Rave'n Dance.

He seemed so happy you had to compose yourself from breaking down. "I thought we were going together?" You ask, attempting to sound nonchalant.

Either it worked or he was oblivious. "Yeah I know that, but c'mon, I've been waiting for ages for this chance-"

"oh yes her loyal dog at her beck and call." You mumbled, loud enough to reach his ears.

His words halted and he stares at you baffled.

"I've liked her for so long, you can't really expect me to bail this for you? How can you be so selfish?" Your eyes widen as he snaps at you.

"Selfish? I'm saying this because I care about you! Xavier, if she really liked you, she wouldn't wait this long to show it, she's been treating you like shit and you just take it."

He rolls his eyes and reach for his jacket to leave your dorm. "You know, you and Bianca would make really good friends, both so desperately insecure and manipulative."

You lose your voice as you watch him slam the door in your face.

The words doesn't sound like his, something so cruel could never come out of your sweet boy, and yet it did.

You breath out a sigh and feel your cheeks wet as tears fall down. If he wanted to get screwed over by her, then he can go ahead and take his chance.

°°°

Your play was to be held tonight, the tickets all have been sold and costumes been made, yet you still couldn't get in the right headspace.

Perhaps this deep melancholic sadness you're drowning in could help you embody Ophelia better, she was quite a tragic character.

You found yourself imagining your Xavier digging your grave and crying over your dead body as Hamlet did, would he come to regret his rejection of you when it's too late, as the prince did?

You shook your head and waved off your wild fantasies, life was anything but a Shakespeare play, thankfully.

And he had made his choice clear.

The play had been going well so far. Too well for your liking.

And as if the universe has been reading your mind, your Hamlet, Ajax, has accidentally stoned himself, forgetting the mirror in the props.

Laughter spread through the audience. At least they found it funny.

You stood in the middle dumbly, not sure how to continue. Your eyes glare at the vampires in their guards costumes.

"We need a replacement." You hissed, nearing them slowly.

"Is this a prologue or a the posy of a ring?" His voice booms through the stage.

He was wearing Ajax's costume, and if you weren't still upset with him, you'd say he looks exactly the part.

Besides the obvious tremble in his voice as he forces himself to read through Ajax's lines.

You had no idea who had voted for Xavier as replacement, you were sure that all the characters should have replacement actors, yet you could not find Ajax's.

He coughed a bit and you broke your trance, slightly shaking your head.

" 'Tis brief, my lord." You speak, moving into the arranged seats on stage for the scene.

He stares at you for a minute and you found yourself mouthing the lines at him as he immediately repeats it.

"-As woman's love." It might be a trick of light, as you notice how his eyes bore deeply into yours when he spoke the words.

°°°

The play had not gone too smoothly, Xavier proving that he wasn't exactly the best ik acting and theatres, and of course he could barely remember any of the lines, none his faults. The chaos that ensued however only made the crowd merrier, enjoying the random interruptions and the funny awkward moments on stage.

You smiled and shyly took some of the bouquets thrown for you before running backstage.

Your body was tired of the long standings and the heavily designed dress. You strip it off immediately and wrap yourself in your robe before sitting down to remove your makeup.

You breath hitches as you hear a knock on your door, having a feeling that you knew who it was.

You begrudgingly open the door and Xavier's face appears in front of you.

"Can I come in?"

"No."

He pursed his lips and stared at you with pleading eyes.

You sighed loudly and moved aside as he enters.

"Whatever it is, be quick, I'm dying to get to bed." You rushed him.

He nods and inhales before starting.

"You were right-" You scoffed and roll your eyes.

"Wow, barely a day and she's already left you?" You mock him and feel a sense of guilt slithering in as he turns to look down, avoiding your eyes.

"She never liked me, she thought I was the hyde, she was trying to frame me or something."

You frowned and all insults leave your mind. "She thought you, were the Hyde?" He nods and you huffed, baffled.

"That just proves she never really knew you then." You decided.

He looks back at you and steps closer to your standing build.

"No, she doesn't. Only you ever do."

Your eyes soften at his words but the constant reminder of his words and how easily he was willing to replace you still burned at the back of your mind.

"And yet I still wasn't enough." You mumbled clear enough for him to hear.

"You are enough -" He interjects and you cut him off. "Just not for you then?"

He turns silent and you watch him struggle to form words.

"If she had wanted to be with you, for real, you wouldn't be here would you?" Your voice meek as you ask.

Your eyes starts to water as you watch him stand quietly, looking down at the floor.

"I'm a fucking idiot." He whispers.

Tears fall down your face and you chest heaved loudly as you lose control and starts sobbing.

"I have always been here all along, through everything- Me! Not her, not Bianca, why don't you ever see me? I have always loved you for you!" His eyes widen you revel in his guilt stricken face.

"I- I'm sorry, I didn't see you before, but i see you now-"

He startles and move towards you but your hands raise to push him away.

"No, I don't want you anywhere near me, get out."

"[name]-"

"You've said enough Xavier, I'm nothing but a second choice to you, I see that now, and I refuse to be your little pastime lapdog while you dream of someone else when you're with me."

He stares at you mouth agape and you roared at him; "I said, leave!"

Your voice makes him flinch and he rushes out the door, hands shaking as you notice his own bleary eyes.

Tonight you were his Ophelia, and like Hamlet, he was too late.

#xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe fanfic #xavier thorpe wednesday #xavier thorpe #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams

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itsonlytext · 2 months

Text

Restoring Balance · scene ii

"It was never black and white. It doesn't have to be."

as sherlock learns to leave the past where it belongs, his stomach settles and he comes to look forward to the new 'balance' that lies ahead in 221B ≈ 1800 words.

(read this chapter on ao3.)

see part one of 'restoring balance' here. love ya!

He didn't know how he felt about Rosie. He never really had the time to think about it; Magnussen, AGRA, Norbury, Culverton Smith and Eurus all fell on top of each other without a second's break. Rosie sort of just appeared in between all that. Without warning. (Well he had nine months, but that didn't count.)

Regardless of how he felt, it didn’t stop him from giving up the comfort of his leather armchair to her or playing his violin to lull her quiet or from feeding her when John was too tired.

“Apple.”

Sherlock glanced at the small sticky jar. He read the label. “Yes. Apple.”

She clumsily grabbed the spoon from his hands and shoved it into the jar. Sherlock helped her.

It wasn’t that he hated her, but it wasn’t that he necessarily loved her, either. He would die protecting her, of course he would, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to having her around. To being the Godfather. (The parent.)

He leaned his palms flat against the wooden table and glanced back at John, whose silver hair popped up from behind his armchair. Sherlock couldn’t see his face but he knew that John was falling asleep.

He turned back to Rosie. She grinned up at him. His stomach twinged.

"G'na up," she moaned, raising her hands high above her head expectantly.

Sherlock picked her up without hesitation.

"What do we do now?" he whispered.

She yanked on his hair.

"No, that's not going to work," he replied gently.

It had been a few hours since he woke up, since they came, since Mrs Hudson left tea at the table. Sherlock glanced at the half-eaten Danish pastry on the counter. Then he glanced down at Rosie in his arms.

"You alright?"

His head snapped up.

John had hovered into the kitchen, out of his armchair, out of sleep. (When?)

"What?" he asked.

"D'you need me to take her?" John clarified, clearing any evidence of sleep with a harsh rub.

He didn't respond. Did he look like he needed Rosie out of his arms? Did he seem uncomfortable? (Was he?)

"Dada."

"Yeah, here," he reached forward and took her from Sherlock's arms with a gentle smile.

Sherlock, more often now than before Norbury, wondered if John sincerely even wanted him to be the Godfather to his daughter or if he only did it to be kind, to make him feel included, because (at the time) it wasn't like anyone was suddenly going to drop dead. It wasn't like anyone was actually expecting him to have to do it. (He wasn't expecting it either.)

"We were fine, actually," the detective said suddenly. "I was fine. She was fine."

John tilted his head. "You.."

-seemed incapable?

-looked out of place?

-were so inadequate that I couldn't even fall asleep comfortably?

He didn't know what was more fitting. He never would. (John never did finish that sentence.) Suddenly, the pit in his stomach came back. (Didn't realise it had even left.)

"Erm, thinking of going to the park later," John said as he absently stroked the top of Rosie's head, such a subtle action, as if it came naturally to him. But it didn't. (Sherlock knew it didn't.) What did come naturally to John was something that couldn't be brought back, not without the idea of a child in the back of their minds to cushion the adrenaline and control the danger.

Planned trips to the park instead of spontaneously chasing cold cases - this is life now, Sherlock told himself as he tried to squeeze out the knot of awkwardness in his gut, to flatten the silence and accept that what he and John used to have wasn't coming back anymore. This is your doing. (It was never really Eurus' fault. Or Culverton Smith's. Or even Magnussen's. John just never stopped being angry.)

"Thought she could use the fresh air. I think we all do, actually."

All. John was inviting him to come with them. To join them. He was eyeing Sherlock intensely. The detective straightened himself.

Reply.

"Don't see why not."

John glanced up with a sudden change in his brows, his face relaxed, as if he hadn't expected Sherlock to agree to come along. He cleared his throat. "Good."

Sherlock nodded stiffly, pivoting on his heels, shrugging off his dressing gown and heading into his room.

This is life now, he reminded himself. No use trying to avoid it.

•°·•․°•·•°·•․°•·•°·•․°•·•°·•․°•·•°·•․°•·•°·•․°•·•°·•․°•·•°·•․°•·•°·•․°•·•°·•․

The park was opposite of everything Sherlock had originally predicted for his day - full of people (specifically children), loud, and entirely overwhelming. But he didn't say anything that would annoy John. In fact, he sat quietly on a bench by the gates and watched Rosie play as he ignored the awful twist in his stomach.

"How do you stop them from licking stuff?" John huffed as he walked towards Sherlock and sat down next to him.

The detective hummed, his eyes still fixed on Rosie as she toddled around her friends. "I don't think you'd like my solution."

"What, put a muzzle on her?"

He glanced sideways at John. "Actually I was going to say to follow her every step, but I suppose that works, too."

John didn't respond. He kept staring at Sherlock.

It seemed to irk the doctor, that Sherlock remained so well-behaved at the park. That he kept his tongue instead of complaining about an itch for another hit of adrenaline or something to satiate his hunger for a case.

Sherlock didn't move. "What?" He knew what.

"You're being.." he shook his head and laughed. "I mean, come on. Seriously?"

"What?"

He knew what. John's plan had failed.

"What.. What has got into you?"

Sherlock turned to look at him.

He knew that John had never actually intended for them to have the 'perfect family outing' at the park - to grab dinner on the way home and watch a movie afterwards. In fact, John had firmly expected him, when asked if he wanted to come, to refuse - to say that there were more thrilling things for them to do in the labs of St Barts' hospital or the halls of Scotland Yard.

But Sherlock didn't say that.

And so John had hoped that, in going to the park, Sherlock would have gotten distracted by something more thrilling and dangerous, trying to find himself an excuse for getting high so that John could tell him off (and follow along anyway).

But that didn't happen.

None of it did.

"No idea what you're talking about."

"Sherlock, this is ri- You know it's ridiculous."

John knew that after Eurus, Norbury, Magnussen and the wedding, things had (obviously) been different. He knew that Sherlock had changed miles out of the person he had once been on that fateful night in Lauriston Gardens. But John was beginning to see something in Sherlock that stopped fighting back for a hint of the men that they were all those years ago. Of course, it was always bound to happen, the separate courses of their lives creating currents of change - it was inevitable. He just wasn't expecting Sherlock, out of the both of them, to be the first one to let go.

"You have a daughter, John," he said suddenly, quietly, plainly. "Is it not in your better interest to stop being selfish?"

"It doesn't have to be selfish, Sherlock. I'm not saying we leg it all the time and tackle murderers, but.. There are other things." He swallowed. "Even with Mary, there was balance, we had it, didn't we? I think we did. I still joined you, every now and then. It was never black and white. It doesn't have to be."

Thank God, thought Sherlock. Because anymore of that god awful silence and his stomach surely would have imploded. But he didn't say that out loud. He should have said something, anything, because John was still staring at him, but he didn't.

Rosie suddenly came running on wobbly legs to the bench, her hairstyle undone, her cheeks flushed and pink. She was gripping onto a stick. "Look," she shoved it into John's face.

He tore his gaze from Sherlock and lifted her into his arms. "Lovely stick," he cleared his throat and stood up. "It’s getting a bit cold now, should we go home?"

She nodded, clinging onto his collar and smiling at Sherlock, who stood up and slung the baby bag over his shoulder after having come to a resolution on his own:

Tonight, they would go home and order some awful Italian food, whisper after Rosie falls asleep in John's old bed and perhaps dare to talk about Mycroft’s ‘political domestic’ until midnight. Tonight, it will be quiet. But tomorrow, they may find themselves interrogating drug lords or chasing rogue government officials. The edge of adrenaline would be softened, for they would spend fifteen minutes beforehand phoning Rosie's 'on-call' babysitter, but Sherlock will use that time to conclude an experiment or to look for his mini magnifying glass. (Lack of spontaneity doesn’t have to mean ‘no fun’.) They would find their balance and suddenly, they would be perfectly content - there would be no more silence and (definitely) no more stomach pains.

Suddenly, there was a shrill ring that caught them all off guard.

“Nope. That’s not me,” said John, patting himself down with one hand.

Sherlock frowned and glanced back. His phone was buzzing on the bench. No one ever called Sherlock. (Not unless.)

He picked up his phone and held it up to his ear. “Sherlock Holmes.” There was a pause. “Where?”

John perked up.

There was another beat.

Sherlock glanced at his friend.

He nodded.

“Ten minutes. We'll drop Rosie off at Baker Street first.” The detective ended the call and released a deep breath. “Ask Mrs Hudson to babysit?”

John inhaled with narrow eyes. “Drop her off without asking?”

Sherlock grinned as they began to leave the park, calling out for a taxi and waiting (rather excitedly) on the sidewalk.

Rosie, blissfully unaware of what was happening, gave her long stick to her dad once they settled into the cab. He twisted it around. "Are we taking this home with us?"

"Yeah."

Sherlock leaned back into the seat and nodded. "I think we can make some space on the mantle. Right between the skull and the Cluedo gun."

She giggled.

They would come to adapt to this new balance - the perfect blend of comfort and responsibility, to accept their life’s new definition. But there were some things, John knew, that would never change. (Calling Baker Street ‘home’.)

p.s. thank you for being patient enough to wait for this second part! let me know what you thought of it and feel free to make suggestions/ requests for my future works. love you lots.

let me know if you’d like to be (or no longer be) tagged.

tags: @helloliriels @dragonnan @strawberrywinter4 @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @7-percent @totallysilvergirl @inevitably-johnlocked @meetinginsamarra @pressurepoint221 @gaylilsherlock @catlock-holmes @johnlocky @a-victorian-girl @astudyinlaura @nathan-no @peanitbear

#sherlock fandom #bbc sherlock #fanfic #john watson #johnlock #sherlock holmes #authors #itsonlytext #no queerbaiting in this house #queer community #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #rosamund watson #rosie watson #sherlock x john #sherlock bbc

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t-tomuras · 9 months

Text

✺ ─── • 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧 𝐁-𝟏𝟕𝟒

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x F!reader

Warnings: Halo AU, Size difference (hes 8ft) / size kink(?), cornering, fingering, dubcon, creampie if I missed anything lmk

Wordcount: 3.4k

Notes: Reupload, Rampancy Universe, Spartan D-175

You get on his nerves, grating with the click of your heels that he can pick from the clanging of heavy weights anywhere. Jaw setting tightly while he maintains his dead sprint on the treadmill without even breaking a sweat before the clicking on the floor draws closer.

He can see you from the corner of his eye, deadly crimson focused on a random point on the wall ahead of him before that fucking AI greets you warmly. Bidding you good morning and making you even more impossible to ignore, try as he might.

Katsuki’s first mistake was not giving himself music to listen to, the second was not choosing to run laps around base and up the steep hill for his workout. His hubris urging him to hook himself to his monitors and pull up Toga’s time, distance and speed in the hopes of overtaking her as the top scorer.

He elects not to wear the power suit for once, shirtless and in compression shorts only because Katsuki desires to claim his rightful place as number one without the aid of his extra enhancements. It was rare for them as spartans to be without the second skin, always suited up and ready for combat at a moment's notice but he was still human. He deserved to feel like one even while completing inhuman feats.

“B-174,” your voice always sharp when you address him and it makes Bakugou grind his teeth today, not slowing in his stride in the slightest or letting his gaze stray. You wait for a moment for his response, brow quirking when you fail to receive one as well as finding clear defiance on his features; seeing how his brows knit and nostrils flare in a way you know is not from exertion.

You step in front of him, holding your hand up high as you snap your fingers for his attention because you could never hope to block his line of sight with the staggering height difference, “B-174.”

“What?” Comes his clipped growl.

“Your armor, you’re not wearing it.”

“Yeah?” It’s then he looks at you with a bored expression, arms still pumping with ease and his feet thudding against the rapidly moving tread as a lazy smirk finds his lips and he widens an eye, “like what you see without it?”

You scoff at that, folding your arms over your chest in a way that pushes your breasts up and gives Katsuki a nice view of your cleavage in the V cut scrub top you wear. His low and even heart rate elevating a tick, the ping of the machine's reading he’s hooked up to making him click his tongue in annoyance and pry his eyes from your figure. Your face pinches into a scowl, not at all finding his comment or apparent disinterest amusing; pointedly ignoring to acknowledge his statement instead.

“When I address you I expect you to listen, like the rest of your team,” You step closer to the treadmill, reaching to turn off the equipment when his hand envelops half of your forearm. Your eyes dart between the point of contact and the fixed glare he affords you. You think it’s resentment, a disdain and disrespect he always seems to respond with but it’s surface level; it hides the lustful desires that plague him while you’re none the wiser. Why would you? Every Spartan III had the lowest sex drive but of course Katsuki was different in that respect as well.

“Fuck do I care about what a desk jockeys gotta say?” He spits venom, tilting his head at you in the hopes you back off for now, thick veins on his throat and forehead protruding with the agitation you’ve instilled in him. A frustration he’s not supposed to experience with the chip implanted in his thyroid but of course you manage to be the reason his cock throbs and he lies awake at night thinking about bunching that stupid tight pencil skirt around your hips while he—

“Contrary to what you may believe Bakugou, I am your primary care physician. I ride your ass because you’re reckless.”

Katsuki only rolls his eyes at your response, chuckling mockingly with his head thrown back before he leans over the machine's console to crowd your space with ease. One brow raised high with a feral grin spreading on his face to accompany his next taunt, grabbing at his crotch and the grin only grows wider when your eyes dart downward and quickly away.

“I’ll give you somethin else to ride doc, maybe that’ll make you chill the fuck out.”

You jerk to wrench your arm from his grasp, knowing full well Katsuki’s hold on you now isn’t enforced with any real strength but you hardly budge. Another mocking laugh sounds from him when he lurches forward before catching himself when the tread beneath him comes to a sudden halt.

Katsuki snarls, whipping his head in the direction of the AI on his squad leader's shoulder. Likely the culprit and when her arms fold over her chest to mirror Tomura’s stance he’s certain, “I’ll scramble you, code!”

Katsuki releases his hold on you in favor of tapping fruitlessly at the blackened screen of his treadmill, curing his lip to find it’d been completely powered down.

“Hit the showers and cool off, that’s an order,” Tomura’s even tone leaves no room for refusal but it isn’t met with silence. Katsuki hops off of his treadmill, glancing at you one final time before clicking his tongue and rolling his eyes as he stalks towards his captain.

Smaller in stature by a foot but the size difference doesn’t intimidate him in the slightest, bored, lidded crimson fixed on flaring bromine. Bakugou's gaze flickering towards the ever present AI with a scoff before rounding the corner to the locker room.

You watch the minimal exchange, features still pinched in annoyance while you rub at your forearm. His grip was loose, all things considered and it irks you how even while in a dead sprint and taunting, Bakugou was still able to exercise a ridiculous amount of restraint to keep from even bruising you.

“I don’t think they like one another,” the projection of colored and flickering ones and zeros on Shigaraki’s shoulder comments before she retreats into her chip. Watching through the cameras placed around the facility as Katsuki slams his fist into the steel wall before the shower, denting the metal while you storm in the opposite direction, slamming the door of your office aggressively.

“For once, I think you’re wrong on that one,” he responds without elaborating when she voices her confusion. Silent as he resumes his workout as well.

Katsuki stands under the spray until the water runs cold, tensing his shoulders but it isn’t from the temperature. His forehead pressed to the cool tile while he heaved for breath, brows knit with a snarl to his lip as he spilled himself into his fist. Grunting from the fleeting euphoria of another orgasm that does little to quell his frustration.

He leans back, letting the frigid droplets seep into his skin as if it’d be able to douse the inferno coursing in his veins and warming his body. It does little good, but Katsuki figured no less, he knows his fist could never compare to what he imagines you feel like.

Picturing that infuriatingly cute pout of yours in a different setting completely, that when you roll your eyes at his comments it’s from overwhelming pleasure instead. He can’t help himself, pumping himself furiously as he conjures that image of your breast pushed higher and straining the fabric of your top until he’s choking on another groan when he reaches another climax. The high he reaches is shorter than the last one as he washes away his spend again, closing the faucet to finally leave the showers.

The training area is empty, lights dimmed, when he finally exits the locker room clad only in a fresh pair of compression shorts and a small towel draped over his shoulders. Using the cloth to catch stray droplets after tousling his unruly locks wildly in a flippant attempt at drying the spikes.

Even for his size, Katsuki pads quietly through the open space, heaving a bereft sigh when the white fluorescent lights of your office bleed through the partially closed blinds at your window. Illuminating the corridor a bit more even through the frosted glass that serves as extra privacy. He can tell you’re still inside, or that somebody is anyway but you rarely let anyone in your office, by the warping of the light because of your shadow.

Bakugou halts in front of your door, chin down with his eyes downcast as he debates on something, of what he doesn’t really know. His shoulders creep up then fall slack with a deep breath, quick inhale and slow exhale before his knuckles rap on the heavy metal door that currently separates you.

It opens at the third knock, making his eyes widen minutely as he steps inside. You’ve yet to look up from your work, closing certain files with a swipe of your hand as you pull up another one.

“To what do I owe the unexpected visit, B-174?”

He hates when you fucking do that, use his assigned number from his childhood. Sneering at the formality you present when he knows you have a more relaxed and friendly rapport with the rest of his team.

Katsuki is silent as he stalks towards you, fists clenched as he reaches your desk before you finally look up at him. He can tell he’s taken you by surprise, his approach incredibly unusual for him, “can I help you, B-17–“

Your gasp cuts you off, broad palms making their way onto the reinforced glass of your table, effectively clearing all the files you had laid out before you as he corrals you. Invading your space in a different sort of way than he ever has before, devoid of any taunting aura. You lean back, trying to get a glimpse of his face as his head hangs and the lowlight of your office casts dark shadows against rugged features.

“B—“

“Stop talkin,” husked low and deep as the base of your spine is pressed into your desk, Katsuki caging you against the table.

A pregnant silence falls between the both of you, his head hanging until it comes to rest on your shoulder. Concern festers in you, touching tentatively at his bicep, “are you alright, Katsuki?”

The sound of his given name on your tongue makes him groan, spoken softly with a gentle concern you rarely afford him. You jerk slightly when his index finger and thumb encircle your wrist paired with a soft groan.

“No, m’fuckin not,” whispered as he pulls you against him, “sick of playin this fuckin game with you.”

Unspoken and inherently sexually charged in one way or another, something that could be completely one sided but Katsuki doubts that significantly. He pulls your arm up to drape over his shoulder, refraining from holding you tightly. Kastuki gives you plenty of room to push him away and his eyes measure the distance between your free hand and the nearest useless paperweight on your desk. Fully aware of whatever reaction is to come and whatever response he should take but by the feel of the tension bleeding from your body he has a good guess on which action he’ll take.

And rarely is his intuition wrong.

“What game?” Soft, like you still want to uphold the facade, lie to yourself that the hulking man doesn’t leave you frustrated. Leave you wanting when you lay in your cot at night sweating and not fully satisfied with the use of a toy or fingers you know could never compare to the size of his own, let alone his cock.

“You’re so fucking annoyin,” he breathes and you shudder beneath him, Katsuki’s voice alarmingly devoid of any of his usual bite.

His head lifts just enough, moving from your shoulder to your throat where his lips graze your skin and your breath catches again. He loves the sound, delights in how you tense and your fingers press into his trapezius like you’ll press more firmly if he were to pull away.

Like fucking hell he would.

Katsuki’s lips press more intently to your skin, kissing up the column of your throat while you crane to give him more access. One broad palm moves to your hip to help lift you onto the edge of the desk instead of being pressed into it only for it to slide to your inner thigh once you’re settled comfortably.

Instinctively you spread your legs to make room for him to slot between them and Katsuki pushes them a little wider to accommodate himself. Chuckling under his breath when he can hear the stitches in your tight pencil skirt groan at the strain and pop away as the rest of the fabric punches up your thighs. His palm slides up the soft flesh of your inner thigh until he can feel the heat of your clothed cunt, enjoying the sound you make in your throat when he cups you.

There’s a dampness there already, a small wet patch as he cups your mound and thick digits press and roll over your clit above the fabric. Katsuki runs the flat of his tongue up your throat into your jawline as you reward him with soft sounds, noises he can’t wait to make crescendo.

Your nails bite into his skin in anticipation when you feel him move the band of your underwear to the side, calloused pads applying a delicious pressure to your throbbing bud directly now. Toying with you until the slick clicking of his ministrations fills the room before he moves to the band on your hips.

You prepare to lift your hips, make it easy for him to pull them down your legs when you hear them rip completely instead with a slight tug. Unable to protest when he grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging gently but with intent, craning your neck to look up at him.

“You’ll be fine,” he says gruffly before his lips slant over yours.

Katsuki presses his hips into your inner thigh as his fingers run through your folds, allowing you to feel the outline of his hardening cock. His hips rolls, rutting slowly to give himself some much needed friction and with the movement you can feel the substantial girth of him. It earns a gasp, giving him the opportunity to let his tongue slide over yours slowly, enjoying the taste of you as you cling to him.

Bakugou groans into your mouth, finally allowing his index to tease at your entrance. Prodding gently before slipping in slowly, letting you adjust to the size of him after burying to the last knuckle. Cunt fluttering around a single digit and you moan something sinful when he curls it. Tentatively adding his middle and you already feel incredibly full but you both know he’ll have to scissor and curl to prepare you for his cock.

But you already sound so much prettier than he ever fantasized, feel better than the rough pads of his palm and fingertips ever could and he hasn’t even actually sunk into you yet. Taking his time to prime you while you squirm and preen with each plunge and curl of thick fingers until your walls are clamping tightly around them.

Chanting the syllables of his name as he lets you buck your hips into his hand to ride the waves of your first orgasm with rewarding praise of hushed ‘that’s a good girl’ and ‘look at you, already a mess over some fingers.’

Whining at the latter comment as you grip at his bicep and shoulder, groaning while he nips and sucks at your collarbones and tops of your breasts. He’s bent awkwardly with the height difference but Katsuki fully intends to experience at least some of the things he’s fantasized and fucked his fist to right now.

Working you up again to another high when you grip tightly at his wrist, pushing at it as you lean away from him, “more Katsuki, no more teasing.”

And he agrees, breathless chuckle sounding in answer along with a breezy, “I hear ya I hear ya.”

But he’s just as eager, pushing down the band of his compression shorts to free his aching cock. Tip flushed a furious red and leaking from the minimal friction he’d provided himself. Your lips fall agape as you look between your bodies, swallowing thickly as he grasps his cock, letting his fingers spread some of your slick before he pulls your hips closer to him.

Your hands rest on his broad chest, fingers splayed out as he runs his cock between your folds in two slow strokes, cursing appreciatively under his breath before prodding at your entrance. Even with his prep, Katsuki eases into you slowly and for that you’re thankfully. Nails biting into his chest as your head lolls back as you take his girth inch my throbbing inch. Bakugou laying soothing kisses to your throat as he pulls your hips into his as he pushes into you.

The uncomfortable burning from the stretch quickly ebbs into an overwhelmingly pleasurable fullness you’ve never felt before. Your hips jerk into his when he’s buried to the hilt, fluttering around him when your clit runs against his pelvis, gripping him tightly while you pant through the sudden high.

Katsuki chuckles breathlessly, signature smirk on his lips despite the bead of sweat that rolls from his temple down his cheek, “did you just cum? Just like that?”

Another of those cute scowls contorting your features while you clutch at him instead of pushing him away, uttering a half hearted, “shut it.”

“More into me than I thought,” his voice an annoying taunt as your cheeks burn up to your ears but he doesn’t give you time for a rebuttal. Eyes rolling back as Katsuki begins to move, dragging his hips back before pushing into you once more.

Setting a steady pace that has you in a constant moan, Bakugou cradling your skull as he handles you with ease. Using your body for both of your pleasure as he fucks into you, grunting with each deep rut.

The room fills with wet squelches and the rhythmic clap of skin on skin, sweet moans and guttural groans creating a lewd cacophony. Katsuki wars with selfishly swallowing every sound you reward him with and letting anyone that could possibly pass by your office now hear what he does to you, savor the praise and file it away for lonely nights on long missions.

Ultimately choosing the latter when another orgasm washes over you, greedily clamping around his cock to milk his impending demise but not before he leans back to see you leave thick, creamy rings around the base. Watch how you slick the neatly trimmed thatch of hair to his pelvis and the way you take his girth so well.

“Fucking A, talk about just what the doctor ordered,” Katsuki groans, clamping one of his eyes shut as he finally tips over the edge after you, filling you so full of hot ropes that it leaks around from you and around his cock.

Rutting slowly into you until you’re twitching, pushing weakly at his shoulders before you slump against him. Slowly coming down from the euphoria before he withdraws from you and even if you’re over sensitive you can’t help but lament the loss of him.

He shushes you quietly, handling you with care as he pulls down your skirt while his cum slowly seeps from your abused cunt. Katsuki’s nose pressed to your temple and his hands on your hips as you slowly attempt to stand on trembling legs, holding you steady.

Waiting a long moment until you seem stable and you tap his forearm to tell him you can stand on your own. Smiling tiredly up at him until he breaks the peace with a swift smack to your ass and that same insufferinfly endearing smirk, “hit the showers. Maybe I’ll join you.”

But you laugh anyway, turning on your heels as you give him your back, sauntering to the heavy door because you know he’s watching the sway of your hips before you turn to him again, “It’s doctors order that you must.”

#vixen writes #hiatus; on queue

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tired-teacher-blog · 1 year

Note

Helloooooo I hope you're doing super fine and that you're reading for 2023 ! 🌺🌟

It's 3 am and I just had to send you send this request if you're okay with it of course 🥰

Do you know the old trend with the corset one tiktok ( y"You bring the corsets we'll bring the cinchers" this is the song ) if not go to 1:33 here she is the one who started the trend I think

Well Y/n is doing it too but for her own entertainment lmao and - Izuku, Shoto, Katsuki, Dabi, Shigaraki, Shinzo and Tamaki - walk up on her doing it 😂 - spice it up if you want 😚

Again not pressure and take care of youself 💚💙

Baby I'm so sorry for taking almost two months to get to it 😭 but I hope you enjoy every part of this ❤️

A lovely view

Characters : Bakugo/ Shouto/ Izuku/ Shinsou/ Amajiki/ Dabi/ Shigaraki/ Fem reader

Genre : Fluff/ Suggestive themes

Notes : The main focus here is the characters' reactions rather than a description of the challenge itself. The challenge will be vaguely referred to and only in some of the parts.

Please do not read if you're a minor

Masterlist|Second Masterlist

Shinsou :

_ "Oh! what do we have here?"

You jumped up hearing your boyfriend's amused voice, and immediately turned the music off on your phone.

Apparently, you were too immersed in the cute little performance you've made for yourself, that you failed to notice him walking in on you.

_ "Hitoshi! You're home!" you were too stunned to do anything other than running around the room in a disparate attempt to find something to cover yourself up with, since the corset hugging your upper body had caught his attention immediately.

He stood there in place, arms crossed and gleaming eyes following your every move, while an amused smirk adorned his features.

He did not expect coming home to such a cute surprise, and your reaction was the cherry on top.

_ "Stop staring at me! This is embarrassing!" you felt self conscious under his piercing stare, and what made things even more insufferable was his lack of response, so you started again in hopes of filling the awkward silence surrounding you, "I was just having fun on my own, no one was supposed to see this, least of all you.." you whispered that last part as if hoping he wouldn't catsh it, but to your surprise, that was what brought him to his senses.

_ "What? Why not? Were you honestly not gonna show me?" he was only a few inches away from you at that point, eyes fixated on the curves of your body, and arms reaching out to pull you closer.

Your only response was a shaky breath when your boyfriend decided to latch onto your collarbone, licking and nibbling like a hungry dog, "I'm hurt y/n, to think that you wanted to keep this from me, tsk.." he inched towards the bed with you still in his arms, pushing you down gently onto the soft bedsheets before hovering over you, "wanna make it up to me beautiful?" and the flare in his eyes intensified as he whispered suggestively.

Bakugo :

_ "Babe I'm home." he called out from the entrance, kicking his shoes and dragging his feet as he proceeded to look for you around the house.

He figured you would be at home already, but the quiet empty atmosphere suggested otherwise.

However, it didn't take long for the music to reach his ears from behind the closed bedroom door.

_ "Hi babe I've been looking for.."

He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening and mouth dropping open as soon as you came into view.

You were standing in front of your mirror, wearing nothing but a delicate panties that hugged your bum perfectly, and a corset that he could swear has never seen you wearing before.

_ "Katsuki! When did you.. wait let me explain!" you tried to sound calm as you raised your hands up and took a few steps back, but the animalistic look taking over his features, sent shivers down your spine.

_ "Yeah okay go ahead, I'm listening." but he wasn't, because the next thing you knew, he was all over you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing down your neck.

_ "It's.. it's really no big deal, just.. something I wanted to do for fun." you struggled between soft moans as his lips carried on mapping your delicate skin, almost losing your balance when he licked a slow stripe down your cleavage.

_ "I see I see, so am I allowed to join in the fun?" and he didn't even wait to hear your response, sneaking his fingers past the lace trim of your panties and groping those luscious butt cheeks he so much adored.

You couldn't take anymore of his teasing, breathing out a lustful "yes" before claiming his lips in a longing liplock.

Dabi :

_ "Are we done already? Can I take it off now?" you were fuming as you stood there in front of him, upper body clad in a floral corset that you casually put on earlier for a little private show you had planned for yourself, not taking into account your boyfriend's sudden appearance.

_ "Hmm.." was he even listening to you? You guessed 'not' based on the flaming look in his eyes and the lower lip caught between his pearly whites.

He demanded to see what you were up to behind his back, and even after giving him a mouthwatering show -despite your crippling bashfulness- he still wanted to see more.

You were fidgety as you regretted the whole thing, and your furiousness grew by the second.

_ "Alright, give me a little twirl, will you? But do it slowly." he leaned back against the back cushion of the sofa, crossing his legs and gesturing you to carry on.

Did he have a death wish? You were ready to punch that irritating smirk off his face, but for some odd reason you also enjoyed his torment.

You took a deep breath and did as he asked, keeping your eyes on him at all times.

_ "Good, now come here." he demanded through a husky voice, patting his thigh with one hand and extending the other for you to take while guiding you to his lap.

_ "So what now?" you ran your fingers through his soft messy hair after settling on his waist.

_ "Now is time for the fun part doll."

And you didn't need to ask any further questions as you felt his fingers loosening the laces of your corset.

Amajiki :

_ "Oh! I'm.. I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to.. I'll be outside." his face immediately turned red as he stammered his words.

You couldn't understand his reaction though, he has seen you wearing a lot less before, so what was it then?

Was it because the garment squeezing your torso defined your breasts perfectly? Perhaps, but you needed to have a clear answer.

_ "Wait ! Tamaki don't go," you grabbed his arm as he turned around to leave, and stepped in front of him, but his gaze refused to meet yours.

In fact, he kept his eyes peeled on the ceiling and that was enough to answer your question.

You took another step closer, pressing your boobs to his heaving chest, and watched amusingly as he swallowed thickly, "Tamaki, look at me sweetheart, tell me what you think of this."

_ "I think it's.. it's.." and it was as if he had forgotten how to speak properly, but you pushed a bit more nonetheless, pecking his reddening neck and giggling as you did so.

_ "I was just a bit bored and wanted to have some fun, care to join me?" your fingers played with the fabric of his shirt, and your eyes watched as he struggled to keep his own away.

He looked incredibly adorable, all blushing and tense, but you wanted to feel his touch.

_ "You're really stubborn." you pouted cutely, taking his hands in yours before placing them on your corset-clad breasts, and biting down on your lip when he unconsciously squeezed on the perky globes.

And that was when he finally lowered his gaze to meet your own, shy expression still present upon his features, but also was a dark mysterious glint that rarely ever appeared in his eyes.

You couldn't control the shivers running through your whole body, because that look only meant one thing: he was going to make you pay for teasing him.

Shouto :

He was not supposed to see you wearing it, especially if he was going to observe you with that blank expression of his, but there he was..

_ "Shouto, say something already." you were only trying to chase away the boredom as you slipped into your corset and started your private performance, unaware of the piercing stare coming from behind you until it was too late.

_ "What was that?" he finally spoke, closing the door behind him as he walked in, and tilting his head to the side as pure confusion laced his uttered words.

_ "Nothing really, this is nothing." you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, still oblivious of what was going through his mind.

_ "Can you do it again?"

Oh?

You failed to respond for a moment, racking your brain to no avail until he approached you slowly, placing both hands on either side of your torso and stroking the thick fabric of your corset like a curious little puppy who's facing the world's biggest mystery.

And all of a sudden, his fingers stopped moving and his eyes popped out, "can you even breathe properly in this?! Okay I changed my mind, just take it off it seems painful."

Seeing the look of concern in his mismatched irises, as he struggled to figure out a way to free you from your confinement, was truly endearing.

_ "I love you Shouto." you giggled softly, cradling his cheeks and gazing into his blinking confused eyes.

_ "I love you too, but I'm serious you should really take it off because.."

You had to silence him with a kiss, you truly couldn't help yourself.

He is simply the sweetest.

Izuku :

_ "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to walk in on you!" his sudden outburst startled you, almost bringing a shriek out of your throat if you didn't turn around to face him at once.

His hands flew to cover his bright red face as he stood there awkwardly.

Your reaction was no better than his though, as you sank through the floor and squeezed your eyes shut.

You could have easily heard a pin drop as embarrassment consumed you both and a stifling silence filled up the air. It was only a few moments, but felt like eternity.

Izuku lowered his hands cautiously, not because he wanted to take a better look at your outfit, but rather to check in on you since you hadn't said a word the whole time.

_ "Y/n, are you okay? Do you want me to leave?" he sounded as nervous as you felt, and you knew for a fact that your voice would crack should you attempt to respond, therefore you settled for a feeble shake of your head as you slowly opened your eyes.

_ "Alright then, can I come closer?" he was still being cautious, but your eager nod comforted him.

He was finally able to get a clearer look at you, and again, the blood rushed to his cheeks as you were utterly captivating.

_ "I was just a little bored so.." you had finally found your voice, small as it was, but your eyes remained trained on your clenched fists.

_ "Oh! Yeah I see.. well," he stopped for a second to take a deep breath and place a warm hand on your trembling ones before carrying on, "you look beautiful."

And that was the moment you finally dared looking in his face, with a bright smile and twinkling eyes that warmed up his heart.

_ "You are the most beautiful y/n."

Shigaraki :

_ "What.. the hell.." he froze in the middle of your room, eyes squinting and head tilted in pure curiosity as he attempted to understand what was happening.

_ "Come closer, I'll.. I'll show you." you were torn between your desire to explain what you've been up to, and the overwhelming bashfulness that took over your being. He was never meant to see you like that after all.

_ "Alright." he moved closer to where you stood, a serious look on his face as if you were about to share a big secret with him.

You hesitantly restarted the song on your phone and proceeded to perform in front of him, giving it your all as you wished to impress him.

_ "So, what do you think?" you turned off the music and whispered your query, eyes fixed on the floor and feet shuffling nervously in anticipation.

_ "So this is what you've been doing here for hours?!" the laughter rumbling across the room confused you, and the eyes studying your outfit seemed mocking all of a sudden.

Your shyness was quickly replaced with pure irritation, how could this be all he had to say? And after you graciously allowed him to watch!

_ "Just forget it and leave! I need to get changed." you turned away from him, crossing your arms and waiting for the door to click shut behind him, but the sound never reached you and instead, you felt his arms sneak around your waist and pull you closer against him.

_ "I'm sorry y/n, please don't be mad."

You refused to face him, and remained quiet until his lips trailed soft kisses along your nape.

_ "Stop it jerk." you protested feebly as you stifled a threatening giggle.

_ "You look so sexy in this I'm not gonna lie," a few more kisses on your shoulder, "I'm sorry for being insensitive."

He sounded sincere, so maybe you should forgive him?

_ "Fine." you placed your hands on top of his, craning your neck so you could kiss him properly on the lips.

@moumouton4

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tobiasdrake · 10 months

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I love the first case of Danganronpa. Right out of the starting gate, the sheer quantity of expectations played with is intense.

So the game's like, "Here you go, meet Sayaka. She's the Maya of this game. She'll be your assistant and help you solve crimes and have witty banter with Makoto. And maybe even love interest? Who knows!"

Subversion: But she's clearly playing you pretty much from the start. Like. You can feel it in every single interaction. She is marinating the shit out of Makoto. Practically every conversation is dripping with manipulation. She's going to murder someone, and she's going to use you as her cover. She is building trust and codependency for her alibi.

And then she comes to you and asks to use your room because "someone's after her" allegedly. And it's like. Yeah. Yeah, this is it. The obvious manipulator who's been playing you from the start is obviously manipulating. She's going to kill someone and let the body be found in your room. This is the other shoe coming down.

Double Subversion: And. Then. The next morning, she's dead. What the fuck? Apparently the person who's after her managed to break into your room and kill her! Holy shit! She's not the first killer after all! She's the first victim!? What!?

This changes e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. Was she really marinating Makoto? Or was she just nice, and this whole murder mystery scenario made you paranoid? Everything is different now. Maybe you should have trusted her. Maybe you should have tried harder. Maybe....

Triple Subversion: Oh, no, she actually was marinating Makoto. Yeah, she actually was the killer. Everything was exactly what you thought it was when you were reading between the lines of her "niceness".

It's just that her murder scheme went awry and she wound up on the receiving end of it. She is the killer here but her intended victim wound up killing her instead. (But don't feel too bad for her victim because he actually had the chance to walk away and chose homicidal retaliation instead.)

Like. This is a fantastic opening case. I love it. I love what they did to players, even to savvy players who are able to stay ahead of the twists and turns. This is a well-written murder.

#danganronpa #sayaka maizono #makoto naegi #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #revisiting dr1

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meenatranslates · 7 months

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[SSR] Taichi | MANKAI Feature

I really like Roy too! I'll go all out for my performance since everyone voted for him~!

__________________________

Today's Star: Roy - Part 1

__________________________

*Director's default name as Izumi

Taichi: Ah, Ban-chan!

Banri: Taichi?

Taichi: So you had class today. Are you heading home now?

Banri: Nah, I still got something to do.

Taichi: Huh, what��s in that bag?

Banri: Some cloth and accessories that can be used as props.

Taichi: Oh~ You’re using them for assignment?

Banri: ‘Course not, these are for you.

Taichi: For me...?

Banri: We have this spin-off project of the supporting role based on the fan survey, right?

It’s your turn next, so I bought all these to go with your outfit.

You’re not the same size as you were then now, so some adjustments are needed.

Taichi: Eh!? It’s already my turn...?

Banri: What, you didn’t know?

Taichi: I didn't~! I gotta ask Director-sensei immediately when I get home!

Banri: Oh, take these while you’re at it then.

Taichi: Woah-! What, this many?

Banri: I’m in a bit of pickle here ‘cause I’ve been tasked with lotsa stuff while I’m shopping.

Taichi: Okay, let’s go shopping together then!

I’m home~!

Izumi: Welcome home, Taichi-kun.

Taichi: D-Director-sensei!

Izumi: Y-yeah? What’s up?

Taichi: I wanna know which of my supporting role is for the spin-off project...!

Izumi: Well, what the fans chose in the survey is...

Taichi: *gulp*

Izumi: It’s Roy from “DEAD/UNDEAD”!

Taichi: ......

Izumi: Um, you okay?

Taichi: I felt both happiness and pressure simultaneously that I froze for a second!

I see, so it’s Roy~.

Izumi: You can leave the script to Tsuzuru-kun. Let him know if you have any requests.

Taichi: Understood!

(If Roy got chosen...)

―Courtyard (Night)―

Taichi: Can I come in, Tsuzuru-kun?

Tsuzuru: Taichi? Go ahead.

―Room 102―

Taichi: Umm, it’s about the spin-off project...

Tsuzuru: That’s what I thought.

Taichi: Hehe, so you expected it.

Tsuzuru: ...So, what kind of story do you want?

Taichi: Well, when I heard that it’s Roy for the spin-off, I have just one request for the script.

You see, I was re-reading the script for our fourth performance in my room just now.

It was decided to be an undead story to put Achan’s make-up skill to good use, but reading it again reminds me that it’s a heavy story with many deaths.

Tsuzuru: Yeah, it is.

Taichi: Roy himself died twice, once when he was alive, and once when he turned into the undead...

That’s why...

I wanna see Roy’s happy scenes if we’re gonna make a spin-off for him, because it was such a sad story!

Tsuzuru: ...Hm, hm.

Thanks for the request. I’ll try writing with that for now.

Taichi: Ok, I’m looking forward to it!

__________________________

Today's Star: Roy - Part 2

__________________________

―Room 105 (Day)―

Taichi: (The script’s finally done. I’m excited to see how the story turns out.)

(Roy’s life with Ivan, before he turns into an undead...)

(He had such a small happiness in his life, although he died a sad death...)

(It’s so... heartbreaking.)

(Since I get to act as Roy once again, I gotta do my best to help him live a happy life...!)

―Practice Room―

Izumi: ...That’s enough for today.

Juza: Right.

Banri: It’s been a while since I last played Ivan, so I still can’t grasp the feeling yet.

Izumi: The spin-off is set before Roy turns into an undead, so the ambience might be slightly different from the main story.

Taichi: ......

Banri: What’s wrong? Something on your mind?

Taichi: It’s true, Roy from the main story is different from the Roy in the spin-off.

There wasn’t that much depiction of his daily life in the main story either...

I thought that, maybe the role study I’ve done for Roy is still not enough...

Izumi: In that case, why not try to think about what kind of person Roy was when he was still alive?

Taichi: Okay, I’ll try it!

Banri: ...Even if that’s the case, you don’t need to cling to me around 24/7.

Taichi: I’m sure Roy loves Ivan a lot, so they must’ve been working together to hunt down the undead!

That’s why I think being with you will help my role study!

Banri: Haah... It’s good that you’re passionate about your study.

Taichi: I’m sure Roy also thinks this kind of happiness doesn’t last forever.

Banri: ......

Taichi: Just kidding- ...wait, huh?

That’s not the way to the dorm, Ban-chan!

Banri: I know, just follow me.

Taichi: ......?

So yummy~! I was just thinking about trying out the new menu here.

Banri: I knew that.

Taichi: Huh, how come?

Banri: You wouldn’t shut up about it at the dorm.

Well, I was also interested from the ads.

Taichi: Hehe...Thank you, Ban-chan.

Banri: Oh right, about the script for the spin-off. Were you the one who requested for it?

Taichi: Yup. As soon as I know that Roy was chosen, I thought that the story theme would inevitably become serious.

I wanted to see Roy being happy before he became an undead, even if just slightly.

Banri: ......

Taichi: But, when I thought about Roy’s feelings while reading the script that Tsuzuru-kun wrote for me, I felt a different emotion.

I wonder if Roy, like Bill, gradually lost his rationality and became the undead.

I think his memories of everyday life with Ivan, will also gradually fade and be forgotten.

When I thought of that, no matter how happy the scenes are, my heart ached thinking about what happened afterwards.

It’s like, a bit different than I thought.

Banri: ...Ain’t that just fine?

Taichi: Eh?

Banri: That’s the kind of position Roy’s in.

The happier Roy and Ivan are depicted, the more believable it becomes that Ivan sought revenge after losing his younger brother.

So, what you felt is possibly one answer as a spin-off of “DEAD/UNDEAD”.

All that’s left to do is for you to accept Roy’s life.

Taichi: ......

...I’ll try to consult with Tsuzuru-kun about the script again.

__________________________

Today's Star: Roy - Part 3

__________________________

Juza: ...So the conclusion’s like this.

Banri: Your lines doesn’t change much before and after the script’s revised, y’know.

Juza: Aah? It’s natural to understand the overall flow of the script.

Taichi: Haha! It’s nice to see you guys still at it today too!

Izumi: Are you ready, Taichi-kun?

Taichi: Yeah! I can start anytime!

Izumi: Okay then, everyone! Do your best!

―Performance starts―

(...This is a story that sets before Roy turns into an undead.)

(Ivan and Roy are raiding a hangout of the undead.)

(Just when he thought he’s winning, Ivan sees something that creates an opening.)

Roy: “Watch out!”

Ivan: “Ah-!”

Roy: “Phew... It’s rare to see you screw up, Nii-chan.”

Ivan: “...My bad.”

“......”

Roy: “What did you pick up?”

Ivan: “Let’s move on.”

Roy: “H-hey! Wait for me...!”

“Hear this out, Doggy~!”

Doggy: “Hm?”

Roy: “I asked Ivan what he picked up earlier, but he won’t show it to me at all.”

Doggy: “Hogging to himself? What a bad brother he is.”

Ivan: “Shut up.”

“Can’t be helped... This is what I picked up.”

Doggy: “Ohh, a tin of candy. That’s pretty rare. It’s been a while since I’ve seen this package.”

Ivan: “Right?”

Roy: “I didn’t know you like candy so much that you want it all to yourself.”

Ivan: “......”

Doggy: “Pfft-.”

Roy: “...?”

Doggy: “So you don’t remember it anymore. Y’see, this is your favorite when you were a lil’ kid.”

Roy: “Eh?”

Ivan: “...From what I see it’s still unopened, but it could be poisoned.”

“I just didn’t want to show you until I can confirm it’s safe to eat.”

Roy: “Even so, you didn’t need to hide it from me!”

Ivan: “You’d steal and eat it out of my sight otherwise.”

Doggy: “Haha, true that.”

Roy: “You guys are mean. I won’t do that, just so you know.”

Ivan: “...Alright. Seems like it’s fine inside.”

“Here, take out your hand.”

Roy: “Okay!”

Doggy: “What about me?”

Ivan: “Yeah, yeah.”

Roy: “...Mmm~ So sweet! Right, Nii-chan?”

Ivan: “Yeah, it is.”

Doggy: “Yum, I forgot this is what it tastes like.”

Ivan: “Here, take this.”

Roy: “Eh? Why...?”

Ivan: “The rest is yours. Savor them carefully.”

Roy: “You’re giving it to me? Thank you, Nii-chan!”

Doggy: “......”

Ivan: “Wipe off that creepy look on your face.”

Doggy: “Such a foul-mouth as usual.”

Izumi: (After receiving the tin of candy from Ivan, Roy eats the candies one by one with care.)　

Roy: “Oh man, I ate the last one.”

Ivan: “Doggy gave me the location of the undead hideout. We can go raid there.”

“You can buy candies or gum with the reward later.”

Roy: “Yeah! And then we’ll eat together with the three of us!”

Ivan: “I don’t really... Oh well, sure.”

Izumi: (And then three years had passed... Roy, who is now an undead, is wandering around being hungry.)　

(He then picks up a tin of candy rolling at his feet.)

Roy: “...?”

*sniff sniff*

“...Smells bad.”

“...Only rocks. Empty.”

"......”

“...I want to eat humans.”

―Candy shop―

Taichi: (Is there a tin of candy here?)

...There it is!

Excuse me, I want to buy this please.

―Lounge (Evening)―

Taichi: ......

......

*nom*

Izumi: Taichi-kun seems kinda down, is he okay?

Banri: Well, that guy’s always been the type to empathize with his role.

I’m sure he’s fine.

Izumi: I see...

Taichi: ...Even if Roy forgets, I won’t forget.

Story Clear!

#a3!#a3! translation #meenatranslates #nanao taichi #taichi nanao

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verdemoun · 1 month

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jumping ahead in the timeswap au because i am the captain personally i headcanon jack not making it to 20. i think life had well and truly defeated him and he was too tired to keep running, and he ended up hanged for ross's murder.

side tangent a) imagine the emotional devastation the VDLs in modern era would feel reading that. there's a grainy photo/sketch and they can almost tell what jack looks like, how much he looks like john, how old he already looks at 19, and then there's the noose sitting on his shoulders waiting for the trapdoor to be pulled. the article portrays ross as a poor elderly man of honor killed by jack marston, outlaw, a dangerous sociopath

side tangent b) john and jack being reunited. john really struggling not to be angry because he wanted/expected so much better for jack: knowing he was never an ideal father (or even a good father) but how much he didn't want his son to be like him, how clear he had been to never become an outlaw. then, the grief. it's only been 3 years but being able to see how much those three years have changed jack, physically and mentally, just by the way he carries himself and that dead, destroyed look in his eyes. jack struggling not to be angry for a lot of the same reasons because at 16 he was left taking care of abigail as heartbreak and illness killed her, and a ranch they could barely take care of together. jack realising his mom, dad and little sister got to play happy family in current day without him.

well now that that's out of the way: dues-ex-isaac morgan

isaac morgan deciding jack marston is his personal responsibility. sure, the whole recipe of staying in a house for a few weeks slowly learning about the current day slowly works for most VDLs, but isaac understands that not only is jack 19 (a teenager) but the culture shock isn't quite as severe going from 1914 as it was 1899.

isaac throws rocks at the window until jack sneaks out his first night in modern day. he forces a helmet onto his head and gives a vague warning that 'it's going to be faster than a horse', before setting off at very illegal speeds on his motorbike

jack immediately loves it. it's very much what he needed: the adrenaline, feeling like he's rebelling, seeing the chrome and crowds of city as a blur become more and more recognizable in outdated suburbs until they're pushing 100mph on the highway

isaac strategically takes him out to the desert, because the desert really hasn't changed that much, and pulls out a bottle of whiskey. they lay down and trauma-bond about how fucked their lives have been (isaac, who experienced the timewarp like a child moving house and had to teach things to his 19th century mother, jack, who grew up in the chaos of the VDL gang with his mother as the only constant: deadbeat dads taken to the metaphorical extreme).

'there's only two things you really need to know: you can't buy alcohol until you're 21 and cigarettes are actually really bad for you' 'cigarettes are BAD??????'

isaac introduces him to cliche teenage emo music through a dodgy bluetooth speaker. jack marston actually listens to music for the first time

arthur getting a frantic phone call from john saying jack snuck out

charles offering to help track them down, because they immediately know isaac is involved

charles and arthur finding a drunk isaac and jack air guitaring to mcr in the middle of the desert

isaac and jack are instant best friends. instead of the coddling most of the gang do when something is new and initially intimidating, isaac laughs at him and it's honestly more comforting. like yeah, traffic lights take a hot second, but jack does feel dumb for not realising that the changing lights and loud beeping meant it was time to walk/run.

isaac literally doesn't hold his hand unless he has to, meanwhile jack has had months of living alone as an outlaw in 1914. they balance each other out in the worst ways. isaac will say they shouldn't walk through a dark alley and jack is like pfft if someone tries to mug us i can take them

their hangouts go from jack bookworm marston helping isaac study at college to isaac being the one calling his dad because 'heeey we might be in jail' in 3 hours. all parental figures involved are going grey with stress

#rdr2 timewarp au #isaac morgan #jack marston #john marston #arthur morgan

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morallyinept · 2 months

Text

A full transcribe of JAVIER PEÑA'S dialogue/lines from the TV show NARCOS.

S1/E10 - DESPEGUE

Includes full dialogue, and dialogue from any deleted/additional scenes available.

I've created this as a point of reference when writing for Pedro's characters, and I hope you find it useful. Even if you just want to read the dialogue. 🖤

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE

☝🏻Dialogue has been fully transcribed by myself using reference to original scripts (if available), audio subtitles and using my own two ears. Therefore, mistakes can be made, however I have tried to be as fully accurate as I can. If you spot an obvious mistake, please kindly let me know. Where audio is not clear, I have marked with *inaudible* Scenes are separated for ease of reference.

FULL SCRIPT DIALOGUE:

What’s this?

This is uh… this is blowing up a little bit more than we expected, no?

Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We gotta transfer him first.

__________________

Well, how do you know it was us? Escobar has a lot of enemies.

Ambassador-

__________________

Did you call embassy security?

Good. Don’t.

Nothing. I just… I don’t wanna ring any alarms before I check things out.

Connie… Just try to relax, okay? I'm sure everything’s fine. I’m gonna take care of this. I’ll find out where he is, alright?

Look, I’ll make you a drink.

__________________

I forgot my socks.

We gotta talk.

I think Agent Murphy got snatched. I checked all area hospitals, police stations. We were pursuing leads on the Cali cartel. It could be related to that, or it could be Escobar.

If I tell the ROS, it becomes a five-alarm fire, and whoever has him might panic.

Well, can you check your sources? See what comes up?

__________________

So, there's no indication Escobar had anything to do with Murphy’s disappearance?

Just hold off for a couple of hours, okay? We call out the troops, he ends up dead like Diana Turbay. Thanks.

__________________

Sorry, I’ve uh… I’ve been working on it.

Yeah.

__________________

What did Herrera say?

What?

Do you think that I would do that to you?

I got one goal: get Escobar.

__________________

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE

#pedro pascal #javier peña #javier pena #pedro pascal characters #javier pena narcos #javier pena dialogue #pedro pascal character dialogue

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ghostssweetgirl · 1 year

Text

crazy over you ~ simon ghost riley x reader slow burn/enemies to lovers

description: y/n gets transferred to task force 141 and quickly becomes friends with soap and gaz, but her and ghost "hate" each other for the first part. warnings: mentions of violence and death (duh), alcohol intake, smoking (at some point), nsfw (at some point), subtle flirting with soap. i'm new to writing? so don't expect this to be the greatest. this is not in line with the game campaigns or missions. the only characters i included are y/n, soap, gaz, price, & ghost. i have no knowledge of the military this is just creativity disclaimer: i do not own modern warfare or any of its characters.

chapters: [introduction] next

You're transferring to the Task Force 141. Nervous and scared of rejection, you can't help but think that this was going to end up going bad. You've read the files of those who are already in the Task Force, and you're going to be the only female on the team. This just can't be good. But you're a damn good shot with a sniper, really good in stealth, so you'll be beneficial to the team, and you'll fit in ability-wise. But a lot of men in the military don't treat women that well, and as much as you expect it, you know you can handle yourself if need be.

On the 4-hour ride to the new base to meet with the supposed 'Soap', you found yourself dead-asleep until the jeep came to an abrupt stop, jolting your body awake. You gather your duffel bag and thank the men who drove you and exit the vehicle. You breathe out as your feet meet the ground, hoping they won't fail you. They honestly have no choice but to tolerate you since you're there on behalf of Captain Price but fuck if it wasn't gut-wrenching, you silently spoke in your mind.

Walking up to the building, you straighten up your posture and go to knock until the door opens. Ahead of you, you see a man taller than you with a dark brown, almost black mohawk, walking out with an open folder in his hand. "Uh, hi," he says with a thick Scottish accent. "You're y/n? Or Diamond?"

"Yes, sir," you nod and hold your hand out to shake his. "Soap?"

He shakes your hand with his, much bigger than yours, and affirms, "Aye. Head this way. I'll show you your room, then give you the grand tour." He leads you to the next building, the safe house.

"So, why Diamond if I may ask?" he noses.

"Eh, couldn't think of anything cool, so. And I didn't want anything too stupid," you silently laugh.

"It's not that stupid," Soap giggles. "I mean... Yeah, not stupid."

Stepping foot into the safe house, you met with all eyes on you, all unfamiliar faces except for Price's, and what was on the files. And the man in the skull mask, you read about Simon Riley who had no picture but didn't and wouldn't assume him to be him.

He points to the men in the room, introducing you shortly. "That's Kyle, or Gaz, Captain Price, Ghost, and you've already met me. Guys, this is y/n or Diamond. Welcome to the team. And everyone... for fuck's sake be nice to her."

You speak out shyly and say "hi" and everyone answers except for Ghost, he just stares and nods at you. Weird, you think to yourself.

Being shown to your room, Soap stays at the door. You set your bags down, figuring you'll have time to unpack later, even though you're so tired that you don't care to. "Um, hey Soap? Question."

"What's up?" he cocks his head.

"Not trying to be too nosey, but... I read the files before I came here, um, who's Simon Riley? I didn't get to meet him," you shrug your shoulders.

"Oh, well," his hand plays with his hair then whispers to you, "Look, you didn't hear this from me, but that's... that's Ghost. It would've been better off if you let him be the one to tell you his name, so please don't get me killed for telling you."

"Gotcha, won't say a word," you smile as you step a little closer, gesturing to walk outside. "Well, I'm just going to unpack later, so I guess we can get on with the tour."

"Right," he says, heel turning and walking to the door. Walking past the guys, he asks if anyone wants to accompany them on the tour. To both of your surprise, Ghost says he'll walk along.

You two have shared eye contact twice, and you find it nearly impossible to read him. You can't tell if he's mad or what.

Walking behind the two tall men as they give each other shit, Ghost peeks behind and sees if you're still following. He nods at you, then at Soap.

Soap then slows down to walk with you while Ghost keeps walking ahead. "Aye, lass, so, quick question. Would you be down to spar...train with us? Just to show us what you're about... We're not doubting ya, just want to know what Price kept going on about."

"Sure thing," you shrug, thinking you had nothing better to do. "So, fuck the tour or something?"

"Pretty much, yeah. You'll learn the rest of this shit as it comes to you, no worries. It's pretty much like any other base."

"Aye, Ghost, she's in!" he yells ahead of him, and Ghost nods, turning the path to the training area as you both follow suit.

He looks at you and warns, "I might go easy on ya, but Ghost definitely won't. He wants to make sure you're able to handle yourself and that you're right for the Task Force 141. Oh, forgot to ask. What're you good at? Your abilities?"

"Sniper. Damn good one. Never missed a shot. Stealthy. Hand-to-hand is pretty good," you answer. "Ghost is... much bigger than me, so I'll try my best. I know I could handle you in combat, though, Soap."

He laughs, "You don't even know me! I could whoop your arse, girl."

Ghost chuckles, "Cocky one, eh, Johnny?" You didn't think he could hear you guys.

You furrow your brows at Soap, "Johnny?"

His face straightens, "You don't get to call me that. Just Soap, darlin'."

It's silence as you all approach the building, filled with mats and equipment. You don't know if it's your stupid hormones, but thoughts cross your mind how you're now alone in a room with two very attractive men. Ghost was much bigger than Soap, but you couldn't deny the attractiveness of them both, but you shake your head of the feeling, you're new, of course at first you may have a tiny crush on the men.

At least an hour and a half go by during your training. You got your ass handed to you by Ghost, to no surprise that he didn't go any bit of easy on you, but you showed Soap up. Even Ghost laughed as you had Soap in a headlock and you were teasing him, reminding him of what he said earlier.

"Thought you could whoop my ass, Soap?" you whispered in his ear, choking him tighter with your legs locked around his until he was forced to tap out.

"Aye... I could've..." he defended himself, even after you blocked all of his blows.

You think you blocked one hit against Ghost, but holy fuck, you didn't have anything on this brute. You thought you had him good at one point, and even he praised your attempt, but it was to no avail - you failed.

You became distracted when he complimented you, 'smart, good girl' after you tricked him with one move against him, and then it went to shit. Fuck me, you thought, I could have done better. Goddamn that "good girl" shit, damn his accent. Yeah, you were blaming it on his accent. Damn, was he an asshole, though. The way he corrected your actions while you were sparring made you feel almost dumb.

It was already 1700, getting late and time for dinner, and boy, were you exhausted. Walking back, Ghost was walking by your side this time, causing your heartbeat to slam against your ribcage.

"She's good, Soap. Could be better," Ghost spoke about you to Soap as if you weren't there. "But she beat your arse."

"Yes, sir," you nod and try to butt in. "Yeah, it was fun beating his ass."

Soap shakes his head playfully, "I'll get you back, Diamond. I will!"

Everyone gets to enjoy their dinner, except Ghost, you didn't see him take one bite due to that damn mask, and you head back to your room afterward. Exploring, you open a door you thought to be a closet, but it was your bathroom. Relief floods down your spine as you were happy to have your own space. Your last safehouse only had one bathroom in your hall, it was a living hell.

You get the water nice and hot and get ready to take a shower, stripping out of your uniform. That is until you hear a faint knock on the door. Hurriedly, you wrap a towel around you and slightly crack the door, peeking into the open space. "Yes?"

It's Ghost. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Figured I'd let you know that tomorrow morning, 0600, we're going to the range," and he then pulls the door shut, not giving you time to respond.

Okay, you tell yourself, calm the fuck down.

You let the shower calm you down and call it a night. It did take a while for your heart to steady, but you told yourself this anxiousness of being around Ghost would sort itself out. You're just new here, you don't even know him, he's honestly a bit of a dick, too. Yeah, it'd be okay, you kept telling yourself.

After being in the shower until you ran almost all the hot water out, you dress in sleep attire and lay in bed, hoping to drift away soon. 2040 the clock read. You better get to sleep as 0530 comes early and you're going to need all the rest you can get. Not knowing if it's just going to be you and Ghost, or if Soap will be accompanying you, you decide to worry about that when the time comes and let yourself drift off to sleep.

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fanficshiddles · 9 months

Text

The Call Of Fate, Chapter 14

Jade found Loki lounging about in the living room, reading a book. She sneaked up the best she could behind him and reached over the sofa to cover his eyes.

‘Guess who?’

‘Hmm, the tooth fairy?’ He asked casually.

Jade giggled and hopped over the back of the sofa to sit next to him. He instinctively wrapped his arm around her straight away as she made herself comfortable right in at his side. ‘You got a wobbly tooth?’

‘No, why?’ Loki raised an eyebrow. His fingers began lightly stroking her upper arm absentmindedly.

Jade shrugged. ‘Just wondered, since tooth fairy was the first thing that came to your mind.’

‘Hmm, I guess the tooth fairy would be a lot quieter and graceful creeping up on me, so not the best guess.’ Loki smirked.

Jade nudged him playfully.

‘Will you read to me? If you’re not busy… that is.’ She asked shyly.

Loki smiled. ‘Of course, darling. You feeling alright?’

‘Yeah, just a bit nervous about tomorrow.’ She snuggled in close to him again.

‘As expected, it’s only natural to be nervous.’ Loki gave her a squeeze as he picked up his book with his other hand and flicked it open to the page he was on.

‘I guess so. But still, not like it’s the first time. Should be used to it by now.’

‘I think with what you’re about to do, it’s very valid to be nervous. Heck, I think even I’d be nervous if I was about to play at a festival on front of thousands of people.’ Loki chuckled.

‘Really? I didn’t think a God such as yourself would ever get nervous.’ Jade smirked at him.

‘It does happen, but it’s a very rare occurrence.’ Loki smirked back at her. ‘Now, are you going to keep your mouth shut and let me read to you to calm your nerves.’ He said as he put his hand over her mouth.

She licked his hand, hoping it would revolt him. But he just gave her a look with an eyebrow up. ‘Was that supposed to ick me out?’

Jade couldn’t respond because his hand was still over her mouth, but she raised both eyebrows in a maybe kind of motion. Loki shook his head and began reading, eventually he did let go of her mouth but she was enjoying his voice reading to her by that point so kept quiet anyway.

When it was dinner time, Jade was feeling much calmer after listening to Loki read for the afternoon. They made their way together to the dining room.

‘You will be great tomorrow, cupcake. You always are.’ Loki assured her and rubbed her back.

‘Thanks, Loki. I’ll be fine as soon as we start once we are on that stage. It’s just the initial nerves. Plus, it is a big deal for us. This could open up so much options for us… Well, at least for the rest of them anyway.’ She said sadly, thinking her time performing with them was getting more and more limited. She doubted she’d be allowed to play again once she was married.

Loki had a lump in his throat at what she said.

‘Don’t think about anything else, just focus on tomorrow and enjoying yourself. You’ll have an absolute blast. And so will the rest of us. I’m looking forward to it and so are the others.’

‘What are we looking forward to?’ Clint asked as he came down a corridor from the side, falling into step behind them.

‘The festival tomorrow, supporting Jade.’ Loki said as he glanced over his shoulder at him.

‘Oh, you have no idea how much I’m looking forward to it. Been a long time since I was at a good festival.’ Clint said as he walked a bit faster and moved between them, he draped his arm over Jade’s shoulder and spoke a bit quieter. ‘Plus, I can’t wait to see this one shaking his big booty.’ He motioned his head towards Loki.

Jade burst out laughing. Loki stopped dead in his tracks and glared at Clint, who started laughing and then ran off ahead down the corridor, worried he’d be tossed out the window.

‘I’m going to kill him.’ Loki growled as he carried on walking with Jade.

‘To be fair, you do have a nice booty.’ Jade laughed and couldn’t resist hitting his ass. She then decided that running for it might be the best option for her too.

When she ran into the dining room, with Loki hot on her heels, Clint was still laughing as he’d told the others.

‘I hit the big booty! I hit the big booty!’ Jade screeched with laughter as she ran and hid behind Natasha for safety.

‘Do you really think you’re safe behind Natasha?’ Loki asked with a growl as he started stalking around the table towards them.

‘Can I kick the big booty?’ Natasha asked excitedly, making the team laugh.

‘What is this, pick on Loki day?’ Loki groaned and flapped his arms at his side.

‘Aw, brother. Do not worry, your booty is tiny compared to many.’ Thor chuckled.

‘Can we stop talking about my booty?’ Loki huffed and folded his arms over his chest.

Jade came out from behind Natasha and walked up to Loki, she opened her arms to him. Loki looked at her suspiciously for a moment, but then let his arms fall to his sides so she could hug him. But he should’ve known it was a trap.

She slid her hands down and squeezed his ass. ‘Nope. Definitely not tiny.’

‘You are so dead.’ Loki growled and grabbed hold of her tightly so she couldn’t get away. He then began tickling her, making her laugh and scream for help.

‘Heeeeeeeeelp! Clint! This is your faaaaaauuuuult!’ She screeched.

‘I’m staying out of this.’ Clint said as he raised his hands and took his place at the table.

The rest of the team sat down too, while Jade just continued to cry out for help. But Loki’s hunger eventually got the better of him so he relented and let her go. But not without smacking her ass in retaliation, making her yelp.

‘Hey! Your swing is harder than mine, that’s not fair.’ She whined as she rubbed her ass and pouted.

‘Well, all the better to keep you in line with.’ He winked at her cheekily then took his seat.

Jade glared at him across the table as she sat down too. Loki stuck his tongue out at her, so she did it back at him.

‘I thought you two were adults.’ Steve commented with a smirk.

‘He started it.’ Jade said quickly.

‘I think you’ll find it was Barton who started it.’ Loki drawled and glanced at him.

‘We all know Clint is pretty good at starting things and not finishing them.’ Said Tony.

‘Oh is he?’ Natasha asked, smirking.

A few of them sniggered.

‘Hey, I always finish what I start.’ Clint said in defence.

‘Yeah, sure you do. Your wife would say differently though.’ Tony smirked.

‘Oooooooo.’ Came from Jade, Wanda and Natasha.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘You couldn’t even finish fixing the tractor, so who did that? Oh yes, me.’ Tony said cockily. ‘I dread to think what else you leave unfinished.’

‘Ok, ok. So I started the pick on Loki, now I’ve been had at too. Can we just eat?’

Everyone nodded and went quiet for a few minutes. But of course it didn’t last long.

‘I really can’t wait to see Loki shaking his booty tomorrow though.’ Bruce quipped up.

The table erupted into playful bickering back and fore again, even bits of food ended up flying through the air a couple of times.

Jade just couldn’t stop smiling and laughing at the whole scene.

She was really going to miss this. It had become home and everyone like family.

#tom hiddleston #loki #fluffy loki #the call of fate

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tommysversion · 1 year

Text

Unconditionally: Joel Miller x OC { Part 1/10 }

Summary: Lucy loves Joel Miller unconditionally. A cross country trip to escort an immune, bad mouthed teenager to safety might just prove it.

CWs: canon typical violence / unsafe sex / age gap / language / spoilers (if anyone cares) / canon divergence / mentions of attempted sexual assault / themes of previous suicidal tendencies

Note: this work is intended for adult audiences only. It is not strictly canon compliant, and was originally posted to A03 when I first ventured into the fandom.

Unconditionally. Part One of Thirteen.

Joel doesn’t want to stay the night, not really. It feels too much like invading the peace, too much like an intrusion, even though Bill and Frank are dead. Maybe that’s precisely why it feels that way.

It feels too much like an intrusion, and he’s lost enough, as of late. He didn’t much like Bill, and he’s certain that feeling was mutual. Grudgingly, he admits he didn’t mind Frank so much. He was hard to dislike, even by someone as prickly as Joel. He can’t afford to get caught up in thinking on it, not too heavily. Even with Tess gone… he has two travelling companions still relying on him. One more than the other, he supposed, on account of Ellie being a goddamn kid. Lucy, not so much. The younger woman he met by chance in the QZ isn’t bad with a weapon, and she’s good at being stealthy. All good traits in a smuggler. He never wanted a fucking apprentice, or whatever the hell she started as, but when she found out he was leaving the QZ, she’d pretty much invited herself along to “watch his dumb ass”. He hadn’t exactly argued.

As requested in the letter, he doesn’t go into the bedroom. What he does do, before he showers, is take inventory of the gas canisters, the truck, the supplies in the garage. Only once he has an idea of what they’re working with, does he relent to Ellie’s nagging and hit the shower.

For a kid, she’s persistent.

It’s not his ideal scenario, to crash for the night in the bunker Bill installed beneath his house long before the infection ever started, but it soon becomes clear to him that it’s the scenario he gets.

Ellie’s rubbing her eyes, clearly exhausted but making a show of pretending she isn’t; even the hype of the handgun she pocketed earlier can’t fight off fatigue. Joel doesn’t know about the weapon, nor does Lucy, and in Ellie’s eyes, the adults guarding her don’t need to know. Not yet anyway.

Lucy doesn’t look much better; there’s only so far you can go on caffeine pills and pure adrenaline, and Joel fully expects her to crash at any moment. She’s currently examining the wall of guns along the far side of the bunker, occasionally pausing to check the security cameras.

“We may as well stay here for the night.” Joel offers, because he knows Lucy wants to ask, but won’t, and he’d rather she was sharp for the journey ahead.

“You sure?” She’s not questioning him, more making certain; she knows he’s not a huge fan of staying in one place for too long. Even though the compound is protected, it still feels too exposed. Too risky.

“May as well. We can get some sleep, load up the truck and be out of here by dawn.” He’s already taking a mental inventory of everything they’ll be taking with them.

“Right.” Lucy turns her attention back to the wall of guns, running her fingers over a few, occasionally taking one down to test the weight of it, to see how fast it reloads and cocks.

Ellie, meanwhile, busies herself opening a cardboard box stamped: US ARMY MRE RATION.

“Is this food?” She turns a vacuum sealed bag over in her hands, squinting at it.

Lucy looks over her shoulder, a rifle in her hands.

“Oh, yeah. That’s old shit, but it’ll survive anything. Whatcha got there?”

“Chilli.” Ellie reads the print on the package, “and something called a snack cake? The fuck is a snack cake?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. Probably an old Twinkie.” Lucy puts the rifle back and selects another, weighing it in her hands, checking the ammunition capacity. Satisfied, she raids the ammunition cabinet nearby then sets about repacking her backpack.

“It’s safe to eat, if that’s what you mean.” Joel reaches past Ellie to snag his own freeze dried food, unsealing the package to inspect the contents.

It’s not the best meal they’ve ever eaten, but it’s decidedly better than some of the worst, and certainly enough that each of the trio made room in their backpacks for a few of the rations. Better to have ancient, somewhat tasteless food, than no food at all.

“So we’re sleeping down here?” Ellie surveys the bunker in mild amusement. They’re all aware there’s a spare room upstairs and a couch, but it feels too exposed, and too much like squatting.

“May as well. You take the cot, Ellie.” Lucy nods to the camping cot tucked away against the wall, under a rolled sleeping mat and a small stack of blankets.

“Not gonna complain.” The teen shrugs, helps move the sleeping mat and most of the blankets off the cot, then drops herself down onto the surface, pausing only to take off her new hoodie.

Joel keeps his eyes on the security cameras as Lucy unrolls the sleeping mat; it’s relatively large, they can probably both squash onto it and have enough room, and a blanket each.

“Tonight only.” He warns both woman and girl, “don’t get comfortable.”

Lucy sticks her tongue out at him. She wants to argue with him, make a smartass comment about it being impossible to get comfortable on a thin ass sleeping mat in a bunker, but she knows the road ahead is likely to be unpleasant, far more uncomfortable than the current situation.

Joel rolls his eyes, watches as she unlaces her boots and leaves them to the side of the sleeping mat; if they were anywhere else, he knows that she wouldn’t have taken her shoes off at all. But if they’re compromised in the night? Best thing they can do is wait it out in the bunker. He’s not going to begrudge her taking off her shoes, not when he plans on doing the same.

He glances over to the cot, where Ellie’s already out like a light. He has to hand it to the kid, her ability to sleep wherever the fuck they land is somewhat impressive.

Another glance, to Lucy this time, then he returns to the security feed.

“We can swap out watching the monitors, if you wanna be sure.” Lucy unfolds a thin, itchy blanket, then another. Sighs. Wool isn’t what it used to be.

“Honestly there ain’t much point, but. I’m not the type to be a sitting duck. Not that we’ve got much choice.” Joel frowns, surveys the makeshift double bed Lucy’s put together. “I can sleep in the chair.”

“At your age?” Lucy’s mouth turns up into a smirk, the way it always does when she’s teasing. He can hear it in her voice, even when she turns away from him so she can crawl under the blanket, nose wrinkled with distaste at the fabric.

“Rude.” Joel replies without rancor; honestly, the chair looks uncomfortable as hell, more so than the camping mat, itchy blankets or no.

“Don’t argue with me,” Lucy says in response, “there’s room. Besides, these blankets fucking suck. We’ll freeze down here without each other.”

Her tone is playful, makes it clear she’s just messing with him. Sighing, he takes off his own shoes, leaves them on his side of the ‘bed’, then sets his handgun down beside them, within reach. He notices she’s done the same thing, has her pistol within reach, just in case. Her new rifle isn’t far off, either. He wants to think he’s taught her well, but honestly, Lucy was a survivor before he met her.

Joel turns out the fluorescent overhead lights, leaving the bunker illuminated only by a camping lantern next to the ‘bed’ and the security feed monitors.

He strips off his coat, folding it into a makeshift pillow, then slides under the blankets, immediately feeling the slight itch of old fabric mixed with the chill of the night coming.

“These blankets do suck.” He comments as he turns onto his side, facing her. He can look over her shoulder or prop himself up to check the monitors every now and then. He doesn’t think they’ll be disturbed, not really, not down here. It’s probably the only secure night of sleep they’ll get until they’re back in the QZ, or something similar.

“Told you.” Lucy huddles under them nonetheless; he supposes it is somewhat cold down here, and it’ll only get colder during the night. That, and she gave the best blanket to the kid. Of course she did.

He looks over her shoulder to check the monitors one last time before he turns his attention back to her; she’s trying not to shiver, even in the long pants - jeans - and shirt she’s wearing.

“Fuck sake, c’mere before you wake the kid with your chattering teeth.” Again, there’s no heat in his words as he opens his arms to her. Anyone else, it might feel weird or uncomfortable, but Lucy is just…. Lucy.

She doesn’t even hesitate, even though she might have normally done so. She’s too damn cold to care, and fully aware it’ll be a long night if they don’t warm up soon.

When she’s right against him, Joel pulls the two blankets over the pair of them, adding an extra layer to her before wrapping his arms around her, rubbing his hands up her back to generate heat.

“How are you always a goddamn furnace?” It comes out muffled, on account of her face being buried in the crook of his shoulder, cheek resting on his collarbone.

“Luck of the draw.”

“Very funny.”

He can feel the curve of her smile against his neck, though, so he knows he hasn’t actually annoyed her with his sarcasm.

“Warming up?” He doesn’t want to push her away, not really. They’ve shared a bed - or a makeshift one - plenty of times, when the situation has called for it. There’s never been anything strange about it, not really, and if there’s an unspoken tension? Well, that’s not his problem. Or so he tells himself.

“Little bit.” Her lips graze his throat when she speaks, but she’s not so tense now; clearly she’s warming up, feeling more at ease than she was before.

“Good. Can’t have you come all this way just to lose you to frostbite.”

“I don’t think it’s cold en- oh.” She huffs, realising too late he was making another joke, albeit in that dry way of his.

A low chuckle escapes his throat, not laughing at her; at least, not in a mocking way, more just amused by her embarrassment and the little huff she made.

“Just tell me if you’re still cold.”

“A little,” she admits, “but I’ll take being a little cold as a fair trade for a single night of sleeping in relative comfort and safety.”

She said relative, so he doesn’t argue with her, just keeps running his hands up and down her back.

“We’ll find somewhere safe enough in Wyoming. After.” Joel says instead. He doesn’t add the unspoken rest: after they find his brother. After they find someone who can take Ellie in. Lucy understands; there are too many variables, too many things that could go wrong.

“Go back to being FEDRA slaves?” She suggests.

“If that’s what it takes to be safe, sure.”

He can’t see her roll her eyes in the dimmed light, not really, but he can almost hear her doing it.

“Safe.” She mutters, “as if that’s a reality.”

Joel hums agreement, adjusts his arm around her, tucks the blankets a little tighter around her shoulders.

They lay in silence for a few minutes, Joel watching the monitors, thinking she must have drifted off to sleep, when her soft voice breaks the near silence.

“Thank you.”

“For what? Keeping you warm?” He isn’t too sure what precisely she’s thanking him for.

“Keeping me around. Keeping me safe as best you can. I know I get on your last nerve, but I really do appreciate you.”

He can feel the heat of her breath on his skin as she speaks, hushed words into his good ear, not wanting to disturb Ellie.

“You don’t get on my last nerve.” He says finally, “and you don’t have to thank me. You watch my ass, I watch yours. It’s a good partnership.”

He can feel her smiling again.

“No longer a padawan, huh?”

It’s his turn to smile, a rarity for him.

“Those movies are older than both of us. How do you even know that phrase?”

“Keeper of my secrets, I am. Never know everything, will you.” Lucy responds, mimicking Yoda in a whisper.

Joel has to turn his face into her hair to muffle his own laugh, instead getting a good inhale of whatever shampoo she pilfered from the shower earlier. Something floral.

“Nerd.”

“I miss pop culture.” Lucy half shrugs, dislodging the blanket, then shivers and tucks herself further under his arm, pausing only to peek over at Ellie, who’s still a steadily breathing shape under her own blanket, probably a great deal warmer for not being practically on the concrete floor. Lucky kid.

“I miss good music and decent coffee.” Joel readjusts the blanket again, tucks the edges down around her shoulder to keep the chill out.

He misses about fifty other things, some things far more painful to talk about than others; he’s barely been able to talk about Sarah with her. He doesn’t know if he ever will. But he doesn’t want to ruin the good feeling between them by being a downer, even if he thinks she’ll understand, so he keeps it light.

“Gas station coffee was never decent.” Lucy counters, “but I get you.”

“Yeah? You were a Frappuccino girl, huh?”

“Latte.” She informs him, “with a flavour syrup.”

Joel snorts in spite of himself.

“And here I am giving you the shittiest black coffee in the history of shitty instant coffee.”

“That means we have access to it, so I’ll take it.” Her tone makes it plain she doesn’t mind, not really. Her preference might have once been for sweet coffees with lots of almond milk, but these days, she’ll take whatever caffeine she can find. Especially when it means he’s sharing his limited supply with her.

“You’re too kind.”

She’s laughing again, soft sounds muffled in his shoulder, but at least she’s no longer shivering.

“If you say so.” She says finally, hands flat against his chest, keeping herself as close as possible, trying to conserve heat. “I guess I should move, huh? I’m not about to freeze on you anymore, so.”

He doesn’t want her to move. Even the four or five inches they’d have between them if she did suddenly feels like too far.

“Only if you want to.” He says finally, “I don’t want you to just freeze again. I’m comfortable like this, if you are.”

Lucy shrugs against him.

“I’m not opposed to this.”

If there’s more she isn’t saying, that’s her business. Joel doesn’t pry, because quite frankly he’s not sure he wants to go down that path. Not because he finds her unappealing, but because letting someone close could have dire consequences.

So he just hums agreement, rests his chin on top of her head. Almost expects that to be the end of it, until -

“Not opposed to it, or okay with it?” He speaks before he can think it through, and he knows it. Wants to take it back almost right away, because this is precisely down the path he wanted to avoid. Apparently not. Again, he’s not blind to the tension between them, but he isn’t truly sure he wants to allow someone to get close to him. Not after so many losses.

“What a leading question.” Lucy tilts her head against his shoulder.

“That’s not an answer.” If he’s going to walk this path, he may as well walk it properly. Or maybe she’ll save them both the awkwardness and just go to sleep.

“Do I really need to answer it? Spell it out for you?” She laughs softly, “I’m comfortable here. I feel safe here, with you.”

“Nowhere’s safe, Lu. You said it yourself.” Joel feels like a dick the moment he says it, but he’s trying to keep it light, almost afraid to let this go any further, even if he wants it to.

“I know that. What I mean is this. Lying here like this. It feels nice.” She knows she’s doing a terrible job at explaining herself, but he’s caught her off guard.

“Yeah. I get you.” He admits, because he’s not so much of a jerk that he’ll let her confess that and not be honest in return.

“I know you do.” She adjusts herself, fingers playing idly with the fabric of his shirt. “Get me, I mean.”

It takes him a moment to formulate a response; he’s almost ashamed of how distracted her touch makes him, as though he hadn’t been running his hands up and down her back a short while ago. As though he hadn’t been distracting her just as much, even if he doesn’t know it.

“Be a shit team if I didn’t, huh?” His hand moves to briefly cover hers, planning on giving it a light squeeze of reassurance before letting go.

Lucy has other plans, flipping her hand over and interlocking her fingers with his, surprising both of them.

“What are you doing?” He asks, truly surprised by her touch.

“Tell me to stop, and I will.” There’s a quiet determination in her voice, something he’s heard only hints of before. Not like this.

“I’m not gonna tell you to stop.” Joel says finally, “Hell, I got you wrapped up against me. How’s it any different?”

He’s being deliberately vague, toying with her. He doesn’t mean to, but he’s curious how far she’ll push it. He’s almost glad she’s making the first steps.

“To keep warm.” She reminds him, “that’s why I said… tell me to stop if you want me to.”

“I don’t want you to stop, honestly. This is nice.”

He means that; it’s been far too damn long since he held anyone like this, let alone had someone hold his hand the way she’s holding him, her smaller thumb tracing over his, rubbing little circles. It’s soothing, and quite frankly probably the only tiny piece of serenity they’ll get for a while.

“I’m glad.” There’s a sheer honesty in her voice, even with it pitched so low, so as not to wake Ellie.

He sighs, weighing his options in his head, fighting a losing battle with himself if he’s honest. Maybe it’s strange to even be considering any sort of romantic entanglement when laying in the basement of someone else’s house, when that someone else is dead in the bedroom the floor above. But somehow, Joel thinks, Bill and Frank would understand. Here, in this house, where their story began and ultimately ended… why shouldn’t it be the place something else starts too?

“Hey, you okay in there?” Lucy tilts her head up to look at him, eyes searching his face, trying to figure out what he’s thinking.

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

“Escape route?” She’s only half joking, so used to him constantly being wired, attuned to their surroundings.

“Not quite.”

“Then what? Is everything alright?” Truly she sounds concerned, which in itself is touching. Maybe it once annoyed him that she gave a shit, but now? It’s grown on him.

“Everything’s fine. Honestly.”

She’s still looking at him like she doesn’t quite believe him, like she’s trying to work him out. Fuck it. Why shouldn’t this be the place something else begins too? Isn’t that what they’d have wanted? Isn’t that why Bill left him an entire goddamn arsenal? To protect those he cares about? So maybe that’s a foul mouthed teenager and a woman he used to help scavenge black market medicine with. Better than the alternative. Better than the aching emptiness of being alone.

Lucy’s still looking at him, lips slightly parted.

“Ah, what the hell.” Joel mutters, and tilts his head down so he can connect his mouth with hers.

It’s not the perfect moment to kiss her, not really. They’re barely above freezing cold in the basement of their dead friends’ house, with their antsy charge asleep twelve feet away, but it feels right nonetheless, and hell, it may be the only chance he gets.

Seize the fucking day, or whatever whoever said that shit said.

He’s almost surprised by how soft her mouth is; honestly, in a world without makeup, or very little of it, he knows her singular concession to vanity is chapstick, if she can find it. She doesn’t waste her time trying to find box dye or eyeliner or anything else that she once used daily, lets her hair be streaked with silver in places without shame or concern. She wears practical clothes to keep herself comfortable and protected, usually keeps her hair tied back for safety. And yet somehow, somehow, she has the softest goddamn mouth he’s ever kissed.

She half pulls away, just for a second, her eyes searching his once more. She must have found some sort of answer in his gaze, because she doesn’t hesitate to lean back in to initiate another kiss.

Lucy’s younger than him, it’s true, but not by so much that she’s inexperienced; that much is clear by their second kiss, by the way her teeth nip gently at his bottom lip, almost demanding better access to his mouth. He doesn’t remotely hesitate to let her, lips parting, letting their tongues entwine as he pulls her tighter against his chest, holding her there for a moment before he rolls them, carefully, propping himself up on one elbow so he’s not putting his entire weight on top of her.

She breaks the kiss once more, glances over to the other occupant of the room. Joel looks too. Still dead asleep.

“We’ll have to be quiet.” He breathes into her ear, dropping a kiss below her jaw. “Can you do that?”

A little smirk is her first answer.

“I’m sure I can.” She hums, undoes the top button of his new borrowed shirt so she can lean up and drop a kiss to his collarbone.

Once, she might have bitten, left a little mark, but since the outbreak, biting one another has sort of lost any amorous appeal. Thanks, cordyceps.

Still, the kiss there is intimate enough, considering. He doesn’t stop her, lets her hands wander down his chest, settling there for a moment before they slide under his shirt, fingertips tracing every old scar she can find, like she’s committing every inch of him to memory.

His hand - the one that isn’t occupied propping himself up, slides along her side, thumb rubbing circles on her hip. It’s the most he’s touched another person in months. Years, maybe. He can’t say he dislikes it; it’s unfamiliar, sure, to be touching another person in a caring and intimate way, but he’s certainly not opposed to it at all.

“Joel…”

He’s not entirely sure, but it almost sounds like a plea. One he’s more than happy to answer, letting his hand drift to the button of her jeans. He’s gotta admit, he’s glad he can get them undone with one hand, not wanting to appear as out of practise as he realistically is.

Her hands slide out of his shirt to help tug her jeans down, not fully off, but out of the way. Neither of them are stupid enough to undress fully, not in their surroundings. They’ll make do, and Lucy does, shaking one foot loose from her pants, keeping them looped around her other ankle. Their shirts can stay on, not wanting to waste time or expose themselves too fully.

As her hands move again, he leans down into another kiss; it’s his turn to nip at her lips this time, leaning right into her as she gets his jeans undone. It only takes her a moment, considering she has both her hands to work with.

Speaking of hands. He has one free, and he decides to make use of it, rubbing his fingers across her hips, now bare to him, just watching how she responds to each little touch. He doesn’t get much time to observe her, though; she seems far more interested in kissing him, which is fine, it’ll at least keep her relatively quiet as things progress. It’s a shame; honestly, he almost wishes they were back in his apartment in the QZ, or hers, somewhere where he could coax all sorts of interesting sounds out of her and not care about the volume. But things have changed, and they’re here now, and that necessitates they be as quick and quiet as possible.

It’s almost disappointing. He would have liked to take his time, but well. He’ll take the situation as it is. His fingers move inwards, across her thigh, slowly, teasing her, their lips still locked together, her tongue teasing at his bottom lip between kisses.

He can tease right back, letting his fingers slide between her thighs, pausing just before he reaches his target to break their kiss.

“Remember what I said about quiet.” He warns, a gentle reminder whispered into her ear. She hums her assent, her fingers carding through his silver streaked hair, as though she can’t get enough of just simply touching him.

He understands the feeling, truly, but he has other plans, beyond touching her hair. His fingers trail along her inner thigh, amused to find her already soaked and waiting for him. Amused, yes, but aroused, too; his thumb finds the little bundle of nerves at the apex of her core, rubs it slowly, watches her eyes widen, her teeth sink into her lip to keep herself from making a sound.

He finds himself smirking, just a little, rubbing slow little circles on her sensitive skin, fingers skimming across wetness, spreading it, coating his fingertips in it.

Her lips part in a silent gasp as he slowly slides two fingers inside her, giving her a warning look as he curls them, buried to the knuckle inside her soaked heat. He can feel himself aching against the fabric of his jeans; even unbuttoned, he feels constricted, a dull aching need throbbing in him.

“Been thinking about this for a while,” he admits, voice still low and sensual in her ear, “maybe not in this setting, but I’ll take it.”

He keeps slowly moving his fingers, pumping them in and out, agonisingly slow, wanting to watch her reaction, wanting her to beg him for more. He knows her well, knows her better than he’d like to admit, and he knows damn well she’ll crumble eventually.

It comes sooner than he expected; he can feel her tensing up, her back arched up, her chest pressing flush against his, her entire body trembling. And somehow, somehow, she manages to stay almost completely silent, burying her face in his chest to muffle the tiniest of whimpers that fall past her parted lips.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers out of her slowly, “just ride it out. You’re okay. I got you.”

Her whimpers fade as she recovers, lies back, gazes at him with half-shut, adoring eyes. Fuck, why has he never done this before? All this time…

He wipes his soaked fingers on his pants, pausing just a moment before he moves the offending fabric out the way, tugging them down slightly, freeing himself. He damn near sighs himself when her hand wraps around his length, stroking slowly, her thumb caressing the tip of him.

“I want you so bad,” she whispers, leaning up to kiss him softly, “you have no idea…”

He laughs, a quietly amused chuckle.

“I’m getting an idea, darling. Don’t worry. It’s nowhere near as much as I’ve wanted you.”

It feels wrong, in a way, how long he’s wanted her, since the first time they ventured out of the QZ together, since she proved herself a capable survivor, since she back talked him and brought a smile to his face.

Her impossibly soft mouth curves into a smile.

“Then take me,” she whispers against his lips, “I’m yours, Joel. All yours.”

As she speaks, her hand tightens slightly around him, guiding him between her legs, rubbing the head of his length against her dripping sex.

“Mine.” He repeats softly, before he sinks into her, slowly, inch by inch. He has the foresight to cover her mouth with his, to muffle the soft moan that falls from her lips.

Fuck, she feels so good. So warm and tight around him, her velvet walls tightening and pulsing as he buries himself to the hilt.

Her fingers ball into the flannel of his shirt as she returns his eager, desperate kiss, wrapping her freed leg around his waist loosely.

He breaks the kiss, takes a breath, before he slowly starts to move. Her head falls back against the sleeping mat, eyes half closed as her leg tightens around his waist, drawing him in deeper. In spite of himself, a low groan tears from his chest.

“Careful there, baby girl,” he murmurs, “careful.”

He’s warning himself as much as he is her, reminding himself to keep his head as best he can. It’s difficult, so difficult, when her fingers are curled in his shirt, when she’s so tight and wet around him, when her breathing is becoming more and more frantic as he starts to move again.

Lucy leans up to pull him against her, her lips brushing his throat.

“Joel…”

He understands what she’s asking, without her having to say it; he picks up the pace, lets his hips rock against hers a little harder, a little faster. He has to bury his face in her shoulder to muffle his own sounds; it’s been so long since he was intimate with someone, and she’s so desperate for him, one of her hands leaving his shirt to tangle in salt and pepper curls.

They’re both being pushed to the limit, trying to keep as silent as possible, not wanting to wake Ellie, trying to keep their noise as low as they possibly can, quieter than the low hum of the generator Bill kept down here, just in case, always switched on and wired to the security system.

“You feel so good,” Lucy whispers, lifts her leg slightly higher around his waist, wraps it tighter, keeping him buried inside her. Her voice shakes as she whispers it, as he keeps up the deep, steady thrusts, in and out of her.

“Mm, you have no idea, baby girl. No idea how good you feel. How are you so fucking wet?” He can’t help the low moan that he lets out into her ear as his hips steadily collide with hers, harder and faster, chasing both of their release.

She can’t answer, not a full word, only tiny whimpers as she clings to him, raking her fingers through his hair. She can’t get enough of touching him, of feeling him close to her, the scratch of his beard on the skin of her throat.

“So close…” she whispers, back arched up against him, “don’t stop…”

“Not a chance, baby girl. Not a chance.” He murmurs, picking up his pace once again. Chances are he’ll feel this in his lower back and his hips tomorrow, but he’s beyond caring. All that matters is her, and the pleasure building between them, and her soft, soft mouth, kissing at every inch of him she can reach.

His mouth finds hers, captures it in a deep kiss, letting his tongue sweep her mouth as she clings to him, feels her tighten around him, feels her entire body tremble as he brings her to a steady climax, feels her soak every inch of his length as he buries himself to the very hilt inside her. Her moans and whimpers of pure pleasure are muffled by their kiss, her hand tightening in his hair for the briefest moment before she goes limp, lets her hand fall from his hair, caressing his face gently before her hand falls.

“I know baby, I know. Let go for me,” he murmurs, presses a kiss to her forehead, “that’s it, darling, breathe through it…”

She whimpers again, links her fingers with his.

Regrettably, Joel realises he can’t hold back much longer, not with how tight she is, the fluttering of her around him. His mind is hazy with pleasure, becoming more and more clouded with each snap of his hips.

He presses deep one final time, rolls his hips into hers slowly, before he reluctantly pulls out of her warm heat, spilling his release onto her stomach with a low groan against her lips.

The temptation to finish inside her had been overwhelming, but he wasn’t about to risk any complications. Not in this world.

Joel rests his forehead against hers, breathing heavily. Lucy glances over to ensure they’re still as alone as they can be, before she exhales, sighs, looks down at their joined hands and smiles weakly.

“That’s it,” he sighs, “fuck…”

He’s most certainly going to feel this in the morning, but he’s in no rush to roll away from her; he moves so he’s no longer on top of her, tucks himself back into his jeans and gives her a moment to pull her own pants back on. Once she’s redressed, he pulls her right back into his arms, inhaling the scent of her hair, their mingled sweat.

“You alright there, old timer?” She whispers, pure tease and thinly veiled adoration.

Joel huffs.

“This old timer just made you come so hard you went limp. Smartass.” He kisses her forehead and she giggles softly.

“Yeah, but I’m your smartass.” Her fingers trace the lines of his face, committing every little wrinkle and detail to memory. Just in case.

“True enough,” he agrees, pulling her closer against his chest.

Joel isn’t one to half ass things; he’s a stoic bastard at times, sure, but he’s protective as hell when he cares, and hell, he cares about her. He wasn’t kidding when he said she was his, and they both know it.

“Joel?” There’s a hesitation in her voice as she says his name. It’s a harsh contrast to the soft, adoring reverence with which she spoke minutes before.

“Yeah?”

“Are you gonna pretend this never happened in the morning?” There’s a raw fear in the way she asks it, the way she doesn’t sugarcoat it or dress it up. He likes that about her. That she’s brutally honest.

“No.” He says finally, “there’s no going back. I’m not gonna shut you out like that. It’s… not easy for me. You know that. But … for you? I’ll try.”

“I know it’s not easy.” She agrees, fingertips tracing in his hair, her other hand splayed on his chest, “I just… that’s all I want. For you to try. I just want you.”

“I know. Don’t worry, baby girl. You’ve got me.” He presses a soft kiss to her lips before he kisses her forehead once more.

He’s a lot of things, but he’s not a liar. Not to her. Never to her.

She hums happy agreement, “You know you’ve got me. Til the very end.”

“I know.” He assures her, shifts the blankets tighter around them. “Try get some sleep, darling. I’ll be here when you wake up. Then we can hit the road.”

“Hmm,” she sighs, nuzzles her face into his shoulder. “You should get some sleep too.”

“I plan on it. Someone tired me out.” He chuckles, surprised at his own good mood, in spite of everything he’s lost recently.

“Your own fault.” Lucy replies, her voice heavy with sleepiness as she settles against him.

Try as he might to fight his own fatigue, he can feel it overwhelming him. He’s exhausted, warm and comfortable, and the weight of her in his arms is so goddamn inviting.

“Not a fault.” He mumbles, but she’s already asleep, unable to answer him.

———

Morning dawns, but Joel is awake long before he originally planned to be. He wants to take an inventory of supplies, pack up Bill’s truck, and hit the road, but first he wants to allow himself a moment.

It’s been so long since he simply lay in a bed with someone, let alone allowed himself to hold someone in such an intimate way.

Lucy’s still asleep, her head tucked on his shoulder, arm draped over him, legs tangled with his. They’ve shared a bed before, but only for necessity. Never have they allowed themselves to become intimate before, and now…

If he thought he was protective of her before, it’s nothing compared to the dull ache in his chest whenever he looks down at her now, taking in every detail of her sleeping face.

“I’m yours,” she had said, “all yours.”

There had been so much longing in her voice, going beyond lust and physical need. He doesn’t think he deserves it, and yet. And yet he isn’t going to refuse her. Not when he so desperately, deeply, needs her to be his.

He sighs. Presses a kiss to her forehead, untangles himself from her just as she stirs.

“Time to get going?” She asks, her voice thick and heavy with sleep.

“Yeah. Time to pack up and move on.” He almost wishes they could stay in this stupid bunker for a little longer, but that’s not their path. Wyoming calls. His brother waits.

Lucy doesn’t argue, just sits herself up, untangles her hair, braids it back and slips her boots on.

“I’ll pack up some supplies from down here.” She offers. He likes that about her; she asked him for reassurance before they slept, but she’s not about to ask for it every five minutes. They both know everything’s changed between them now, but simultaneously, nothing has. All they’ve really done is act on what was already there.

“Great idea. Some rations, some ammo. Whatever you think we need.” Joel shoves his own shoes on, surveys the monitors for a moment. All quiet.

“I’ll get Ellie ready, too.”

“I’ll fuel up the truck, pack a few things. Come on up when you’re ready.” Almost without thinking, he drops a kiss to her lips on his way past, climbs the ladder, pushes the bunker door open, and disappears into the morning light.

Lucy stares after him for a moment before she’s interrupted by a soft snicker. Turning, she finds Ellie sitting up and staring at her, grinning.

“What?”

“I fuckin’ knew you two were a thing.” Ellie shrugs, unravels herself from her blanket and tosses her jacket over her shoulders.

“Wh-?” Lucy doesn’t even try to deny it.

“I saw that. And I see the way you two look at each other. It’s gross. You’re both old.” Ellie makes a face as she starts to pack MRE rations into her backpack.

“I’m not that old!” Lucy protests, somewhat lamely.

“Not as old as Joel, that’s for sure.” Ellie smirks, then laughs when Lucy opens her mouth. “I’m just fucking with you. I don’t care. Maybe it’ll get him to stop being such a stone cold asshole.”

Lucy laughs in spite of herself, stocks her own backpack with another box of ammunition for her new rifle and her handgun, before shoving a few rations of her own on top.

“Not gonna argue there,” she agrees, “c‘mon. He’s fuelling up so we can leave. Let’s go.”

“Back to the road. Yay.” Ellie sticks her tongue out, takes one last look around the bunker, then heads for the ladder.

Lucy follows her, taking one last look at the rumpled sleeping mat on the floor, a small smile crossing her face.

She’s not sure where they’ll go from here, but it doesn’t matter. She has Joel, and he has her, and that’s all that matters right now.

#my writing #rue unconditionally #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x oc #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #pedro pascal character fic #pedro pascal characters #tagged: jocy

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