#I have this whole thing mapped out in my head I just need to figure out the dialogue
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The Man 6
Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen
Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️
You stare at your phone. It can’t be. After everything else going wrong, you can’t deal with Floyd. It suddenly makes sense why he was messing around with your phone. Ew, he’s kind of a creep.
You don’t answer and put the phone away. Well. You have no money, you’re about to have no home, and your milk is spoiled. Don’t panic. You can figure this out. You’re an adult, aren’t you?
First, go to the bank. You need milk. Once you have a coffee, you’ll worry about the whole eviction thing. You leave the convenience store and open Maps to look for the nearest bank kiosk. Not too far, one block. At least you’re getting your steps in.
You follow the directions on screen and turn to cross the road. You’re so distracted, you forget to look both ways and nearly get hit by a gleaming bumper. You wave a head but don’t look up. You need to get to the bank.
You come up to the pulsing blue dot and glance around. Huh. You don’t see a bank. You turn around and face the ATM built into the side of the building. Oh goddang! You walked to a bank machine, not a bank. Is it you? Are you the problem?
You drop your shoulders. Alright. You’ll just try again. You scroll to the next location and spin around, nearly colliding with a new wall. Oh, not a wall, a person.
You look up at Mr. Henson as he watches you with a line between his brows. Somehow, you’re not very surrpised. This guy is everywhere. It’s almost like he has no hobbies.
“Oh, hi, sorry, excuse me, I’m just on my way to the bank--”
“Ah, running short? Need me to spot ya?” He raises his hand, showing a black credit card.
“Um... noooo,” you utter in confusion. The other day, you ran off after calling him names. You really don’t believe he’s changed his stripes. He’s still a snarling tiger getting ready to feast. “Thanks, but I--”
“Things are tight. Job market’s trash, housing isn’t any better, and those banks,” he whistles and puts his card away, “they like to fuck around, don’t they?”
You look at him, scrunching your face up.
“Y-yeah. Weirdly, I did just get a notice to...” your voice trails off. “Why are you bugging me?”
“Bugging you?” His brows pop up and he guffaws, “oh, sweet lips, you’re funny, you know that?”
“Yeah, I know few jokes but--”
“Think a little harder, cupcake,” he lowers his timber and stares at you.
You blink and wet your lips, pushing them together. Think about what?
“Look, about yesterday--”
“I’m talking about today,” he insists.
“Sure, uh...”
“Do I really need to spell this out for you?”
“Spell what out?” You cringe, clawing for some hint of what he means.
“Your bank card isn’t working, right?” He asks, you nod. “You’re getting evicted.” Another nod. “You have no job.”
You make a face, “yes, okay. Rub it in. Alright. I get it. You’re some important guy and I’m a loser. Don’t worry. You own this city but I think I’m on my way out.”
He sighs and presses his fingers flat on either side of his nose. He drops them and opens his eyes again, “it was me. I’m the reason you—Don't you understand what I can do to you? I got you fired, kicked out, and poor in one day. What else do you think I could do?”
Your chest hollows out and your stomach lurches. What? Him? He just doesn’t stop.
“Sir, what—why would you—I'm sorry I called you a meanie. I was upset and the coffee, I tried--” You sniffle and shudder out a half-sob, “I didn’t mean to.”
“Yeah, well, you shoulda shut those sweet lips and opened those ears, huh?” He grins, “look, cupcake, you’re not going anywhere. You try to run back to your family, I’ll find you. Your mom’s a good lady, you shouldn’t trouble her. She doesn’t make enough teaching brats to put up with another one.”
“My mom—how--”
He spins his finger in the air, “catch up, honey bun. Alright? This is it. I’ll lay it out real clear for you, right now. You have no money, no home, you have nothing. You are nothing.” He jabs his finger at you, “so, I can solve all your problems and make you something.”
You look around. There’s really no way out. He’s a psychopath. You think. You don’t really know the difference between that and sociopath.
“Are you like CIA or something?” You ask.
He scoffs and flinches, “oh man, you are something else. Really, each time you open that mouth, I’m blown away by the idiocy. Rather just get blown, you get it?”
You shake your head and pout.
“Look, I think we can sort this out, Floyd. Really, I’m really sorry and I understand now. I get it. You’re very important and I messed up. I’m nothing and I did everything wrong. And from the bottom of my heart, I apologise. So, can I please have my life back?” You say, “I think we’d both be happier if we just went on our way and never saw each other again.”
His eyes dart away and he stares into the distance. Exasperation wrinkles above his brow and he looks back to you, hands on his hips, “too late, buttercup. So, let me put it as plain as I can. You don’t get a choice. You belong to me now. Just like everything else in this city. You are mine.”
“You can’t... do that.”
“I am doing that,” he insists. “Another thing,” he raises his hand, showing his palm, “it’s Lloyd.” He emphasizes the consonants of his name, “Lloyd Hansen. You can call me sir or Mr. Hansen. Hell, if we’re getting frisky, you can call me daddy.”
“Ugh,” you groan in disgust and curl your lip.
“Ugh?” He mimick the noise, “I’m about to--” He shakes his hand and sucks in the end of his sentence, “fine. Show, don’t tell. Got it.”
You cry out as suddenly he lunges at you. He grabs you by the back of the neck and hauls you forward down the sidewalk. He marches beside you as you writhe and paw at his large hand. You whimper, helpless as pedestrians move out of your path.
“Your mouth got you into trouble, now let’s see if it can get you out,” he growls.
#lloyd hansen#dark lloyd hansen#dark!lloyd hansen#lloyd hansen x reader#the man#the gray man#drabble#series#au#mob au
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✨ The In Stars and Time Spoiler Q&A ✨
it's time. MASSIVE IN STARS AND TIME SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT. IT'S GONNA BE SO LONG. LET'S GO
I hope you are aware of The Secret Final Boss because I'm also gonna spoil the crab out of that. If you haven't,
1. Did you know the events for interacting with your souvenirs are randomized for some of them, and also change depending on how far you are in the game.
2. Did you know there's a way to show souvenirs to a certain character.
3. Did you know you can go back to Dormont during the Epilogue.
Figure that out, and come back here! Or watch a let's play online. You can also do that.
I will also try to adopt a ~mysterious cool voice with no exclamation points~ for Effect. Come with me on this journey.
Now. Questions time!
✨ Will you ever make a sequel to ISAT, or make a game in the same universe?
Nah. This was always intended to be The Story. This is your turn to imagine things now.
✨ But so what happened to the Country? What was its name? What about the wishes? What about the colors? What did Siffrin say as an openphrase to open the door to the King's room? What about--
I will not answer those. It's your turn.
✨ BUT THE COUNTRY AND THE COLORS AND THE WISHES
Ok fine. Here are some facts that I alluded to in-game, that I am confirming now.
-The Country disappearing and the events that made colors go away are not related.
-The colors disappeared a loooong time ago, which is why knowing they even existed is a relatively new find.
-A wish made everyone forget the Country.
I will ALSO say that ISAT's map operates on Final Fantasy/General Fantasy rules (i.e. in-universe locations are based off of real ones when it comes to culture, but are not one to one parallels, especially for geography), so no, the Country isn't based on the UK oh my god please do not say that to me again or im deleting ISAT out of your computers and putting legos at the foot of your bed. It's based on another place. You can figure it out, I believe in you.
✨ But why won't you give more info on what happened :(
Can you imagine if I did answer. Wouldn't that be a bummer, whatever my answer was. Sometimes things need to stay a mystery. And also, I don't want to answer <3
✨ Does the world Loop came from still exist after they left? Or is this a get mystery'd situation?
There is only One Timeline and it's the timeline that goes from the prologue to ISAT. Every timeline that gets rewound does not exist anymore, and that includes the prologue's timeline.
✨ What's the deal with Siffrin's dream at the start?
It's Siffrin's dream, but that doesn't mean our Siffrin is the main star.
✨ Is [specific missable game moment] canon?
Every moment that you personally experience in the game is canon.
✨ Is there a reason Siffrin remembers their name but the King doesn't?
What makes you think Siffrin does?
✨ At the very very end of the game, if you look out the window behind the Head Housemaiden, Sif mentions seeing an island in the distance. Is that his country?
It is. It's always been there, for the whole game. You can see it in the distance, too.
✨ Who was the King, before?
He was just a guy!
✨ With the King left remembering in the end, does that in any way change the redaction effect for other people in the world going forward?
That's a fun idea. Maybe!
✨ One thing that never really clicked for me is: Is the sweet smell Time Craft or Wish Craft? Or is the sweet smell TIme Craft and specifically the burnt sugar smell is Wish Craft? Other way around? Does this question even matter since without Wish Craft you can't attain Time Craft in the first place? (To me, yes.)
Wish Craft smells sweet. Time Craft doesn't have a smell per se, but it does do something.
✨ Does Mirabelle retain her immunity to being frozen in time after the events of the game or does it go away after the Head Housemaiden is saved? Or does it persist for a while and eventually fade away?
I imagine the immunity slowly faded away. But no one's left to do Time Craft, so it's a moot point anyway.
✨ How was Odile able to stop Siffrin from looping back during the fight against Siffrin?
In the Discord channel I stated that it's because "she's just that cool", but really, she does have access to some skills that heighten the efficacity of Rock/Paper/Scissors attacks, so it's not too much of a stretch to imagine she could lower the efficacity of Time Craft as well. In this last loop, while listening to Loop and observing, she could figure out Siffrin was looping way earlier than she could in even the Sus Quest, so she made plans. She is Very Smart <3
✨ Will you ever share everyone's full names?
That's artbook content <3
✨ In the ending, what happened to Siffrin's hat?
Flew away. It's gone now.
✨ Looking back at the original comics, and seeing how comic!sif has both eyes at the start of their loops, but in ending sequences is shown with his eye patch...did you ever consider making that concept of sif losing their eye a part of the main loop in either of your games? and if so, was there any reason why you decided against it?
Early on, I did think about making that whole event an event that happens during the loops, but quickly let that go since 1. it would be a pain to write and code (two different sets of Siffrin portraits!) and 2. if it happened, the player might want to look for a way to NOT make that happen and so 3. it would be a pain to write and code
✨ How was Siffrin's homelife before?
Pretty good!
✨ How old were Nille and Bonnie when they ran away? How old was Sif when their home got zapped?
Both were teens.
✨ How old IS everyone?
Siffrin is mid-late 20s. Mirabelle and Isabeau are early-mid 20s, with Isabeau being slightly older. Bonnie is a preteen. Odile is Too Old For This. Petronille, Bonnie's sister, is late teens-early 20s. You can ignore whatever I said in the prologue's artbook, whoever wrote this was Wrong!!!!!!!!!!
✨ Regarding the book that talks about someone who crafted a copy of themself using wish craft: is that meant to imply someone we know is the author (and/or the copy), or is it not directly related to any of em? or is it a "who knows ;)" situation where we can just speculate and theorize either way?
Please check the book again during Act 5! This applies to most items/map events by the way, like the pendant. You can check those during Act 5 and 6 for some fun new dialogue!
✨ Why are Siffrin's clothes so warm looking?
The Country got cold at night.
✨ What's up with Siffrin's pins?
They're made out of a special material. And also, they make Siffrin look cool <3
✨ I want to know the story behind Loop’s different eye shades!
They're blind in one eye. Also, fun foreshadowing <3
✨ What determines whether someone is paper/rock/scissors craft? Is it assigned naturally at birth or something else (and how do you find out)? Does it make you more inclined to use that specific craft or is anyone generally free to use whatever craft they want?
Astrology rules, It Just Is A Thing. Being Rock Type means it is way easier for you to do Rock Craft, but that doesn't mean you can't learn other types of craft, although it's way harder. Doing Craft of your type is instinct, doing Craft of another type would take some time and resarch.
✨What crimes has Odile committed before. I need to know.
Odile just smiles.
✨ Why did the King specifically target the House of Dormont?
I had a reason in mind, but adding it to the game would've added a layer of Explanation that really didn't need to be there. It's just a nice House.
✨ Who was Odile's hatecrush...
Dunno. It's your turn.
✨ What is loop's body situation. like is the surface of their "skin" solid? they did poke siffrin that one time, and we know they aren't cold, but...
I have some idea. But it's your turn!
✨ Would Sif still have looped if they hadn't made the wish he made in the beginning? As in, would Vaugarde's combined wish have made him loop until managing to beat the King?
No. But without time powers, you can imagine what would've happened next.
✨ During the Loop Hangout, how did the rest of the team make it all the way to The King? What about during Act 5?
During the Loop Hangout: with difficulty. During Act 5: Loop was there to guide them.
✨ Is Loop: 1. Actually comfortable with both he and they, but only gave the one pronoun to emphasize the distance? 2. Only using they/them because a large life event led to a shift in identity/ how they'd like to be perceived? or 3. time lops stole he from they they :(
Mostly that first one. But all three of those reasons have a bit of truth to them.
✨ Who cooked crab in the House of Change???
This is a very funny question! I've never thought about it. It's your turn.
✨ What are the Orbs that open the gate? Did the King create the Gate or was it there before?
(did not think about the orbs or the gate beyond "plot that proves there was a journey before") Stop Asking Questions,,,, It's your turn,,,,,,
✨ Bonnie's dialogue is *extremely* accurate to how overexcited kids talk, which is really rare to see. Was that something that took a lot of effort to achieve, or did it come naturally to you?
Thank you <3 I'm just that good. Really, Bonnie is an adult with no filter, and less general knowledge. I'm very glad I managed to write Bonnie well, especially since. I haven't talked to a kid. Since I was one myself
✨ The Spoilery Concept Art. Blease
oh yeah. here have it all. this is what I gave Mimi to do the animated trailer!
✨ So. What's everyone's favorite shade.
FINALLY the question. Plus I can say shade names now. White = darkless, Black = lightless. Light and Dark is like light grey/ dark grey. Oh my god I'm checking my notes and I wrote a small event I never used about hair dye colors like "midnight dark", "tomato grey", "snow light" past me that's so fucking funny
Anyway, Siffrin loves darkless, Mirabelle is more of a light shade lover, Isabeau loves that lightless (BECAUSE ITS FASHIONABLE OK), Odile likes darker shades, and Bonnie also loves that lightless (BECAUSE ITS AS DARK AS MY SOUL OK)
✨ Are there any bugs you found during developments that you've made into features?
Two! The first one was the ability to ask Loop to just silently hang out during Act 4. I messed up the code and the game softlocked there, with Siffrin and Loop sitting there silently. I thought it was very sweet. They deserve a little quiet time.
The second was in Act 5 - the House map had a lot of issues with the Act 5 map bringing you back to the normal House map. So one of the testers got brought to the normal House map and didn't notice, and interacted with the Mirror on Floor 3, and it gave them the normal interaction with everyone seeing the mirror and taking a picture, and when they went to look at the picture in their inventory, it gave them the actual Act 5 picture. A little bit after they realized the game bugged out, and told me about it, and begged me to keep that in because they were very unsettled by it. So here it is! Beforehand, it was just Siffrin silently taking a picture, so I'm glad I changed it.
✨ Did you ever have emotional difficulty writing the more sensitive parts of the script, like Siffrin’s intrusive/negative thoughts, for one reason or another? Moreover, did you worry the script may be darker than your initial vision for it anticipated?
Not really. The Mirabelle and Odile hangout scenes were the hardest scenes by far because I really wanted to get them right, but everything else was about the same amount of difficulty. And actually, I wanted to go a little bit darker for the script, but I was worried it was going to be too dark... When it comes to the dagger event, I had a whole tangent about Siffrin thinking about the best way to strike, so to speak, but I deleted it because it was getting A Little Too Detailed. T rating come back to me
✨ For the questions you WON'T answer, did you have your own answers while making the game? Or were they left blank?
Some of them I do, some of them I don't!
✨ I loved this game and I want to replay it but I don't want Siffrin to go through everything again!
Here's a little fun fact I decided: if you hit the credits, you helped a Siffrin escape. If you start a new game, you are creating a new Siffrin that you can emotionally tortu-IIIIIIII MEAN, a new Siffrin that you can help. Do not worry about your Siffrins they are fine
✨ A lot of those answers ended up being "It's your turn", huh.
Yea <3 The answers to some of those questions ARE there if you look. Some just aren't. But you can imagine whatever you want. It's your turn! I finished the game! I'm done working! It's your turn!!!
✨ I loved ISAT and it made me feel so many feelings!
Thank you so much. I'm sorry if you sent a message or ask and I didn't answer it. I read every single one and cherish it! Thank you for playing and thank you for writing me a message!!!!! When I get a little down I look at all of those and I feel better. Thank you. I'm sorry I can't answer them all.
✨ What will you work on next?
I have a project I'm currently in the preproduction stages of. I don't want to talk about it until I feel like I have some stuff to show. Plus I still have to make the ISAT artbook and some other stuff, so it won't be for a while. Nonetheless, I hope you will enjoy it!!!
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might be an odd question, but i have a theory after noticing trends amongst artists iv known in my life and SO FAR it's rung true so im expanding sample size
IDK if u know what aphantasia is already so I'm including reference [forgive me if uv already spoken abt this also]
Where would u say u fit on the scale?
For me I cannot see an apple, I know I am supposed to, or I will see concepts of it [like how the flesh is shiny and holds water droplets but i do not SEE it nor can i hold a clear visual of anything in my mind for that matter it is always flashing IDEAS like components of a visual, never the whole thing]
I'm asking because of people I've asked about this, there's a quality of their art that [i dont know how to put into words WHY] reminds me of each other, and I'm wondering if u will give me the same answer they have because I am a curious little bastard
I'm pretty sure I'm 1? I think I might have one of those brains that operate mostly on visuals. I don't need to close my eyes to see the image in my mind, it just sort of "opens in a different window" and I'm looking at reality and the mental image simultaneously.
It's never a flat picture, I see a 3D model of sorts, and I can rotate it around, cut it into pieces, look "through it" to see it from outside and inside at the same time, and arrange it to different poses if it's a character. Sometimes when I'm drawing something, I imagine what it would feel like to touch it and hold it in my hands, and that helps me to figure out how to convey a better sense of volume and tangibility.
I also think in images (or, like, gifs?) and I've never had an internal monologue. It surprised me when I heard that some people actually have a narrator in their heads, I can't imagine what it's like.
It's not always fun though, sometimes I get pretty nasty intrusive thoughts and they come in forms of vivid and very unpleasant mental images. Like visiting a relative's grave and being hit with a crisp picture of their decomposing body. Or getting those "I could walk in front of that car/ jump down from here" call of the void thoughts and instantly getting a brain illustration of it playing out from an onlooker's point of view and what the aftermath would look like. They're most distressing when it's bad things happening to someone I care about, for example I have a really persistent one about accidentally slamming a door on my cat and seeing him crushed and dying.
Oddly enough it doesn't extend to all visual thinking. My mind's eye and visual memory work well, but I also have severe face blindness and practically nonexistent ability to form mental spatial maps of my surroundings.
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My fathers daughter pt 12
It all comes out sometime
"Jay?" You ask.
"Yeah its me. How the fuck did you get access to the coms?" He asks amused at your actions.
"Trust me hacking this isn't any harder than hydra files" You say passively, " Anyways that's not important, I think I can help with this Joker thing."
"Wait? Really?" He ask seriously, "Y/n, listen carefully, I need you to go into Bruce's office and find the big ass clock --"
"Yeah I already found the secret hide out" You say annoyed, "Mommy dearest kicked me out before I could tell her how I could help."
Jason sighed, knowing that his mother probably tried to use her mom voice on you. " Yeah, she told us she didn't want you to be in the whole vigilante think."
The anger that was simmering under your skin came back, but before you let it get the best of you, you continued. Knowing that this information was more important than whatever mommy issues you had.
"Right, well that's not important." You say," Listen to me now."
"I'm listening." Jason grunted, sounding like was punching someone,
"Whatever chemical agent Jackass put in his venom is the exact same stuff that was used to brainwash the Winter Soldier" You say quickly.
"Kid, I wanna believe you but how do you know that? Tim was just able to get a sample and process it."
"Because, I was told that every antidote you use only makes the effects stronger right?"
"Right" He says strained
"In order to make sure that the Winter Soldier stayed the Winter Soldier and not Bucky, Hydra had to make sure his brain produced a certain amount of hormones. And that whatever anybody used, the effects couldn't reverse. Hence chemical X."
"Chemical X?"
"The name is to long for me to attempt to pronounce, anyways, lucky for us, my daddy just so happened to create a serum that undoes Chemical X. And if I check," You pause, taking over the computer downstairs, and checking the sample Tim had sent in, " The component is there."
"Well I'll be damned"
"Exactly. Now, I need you to find a lab or something. This serum was made with the intention of being made on the fly. So everything you need should be there." You say pulling up a map of Gotham general.
"Wait, I need to tell Bruce." Jason said, " Joker said he had the only antidote and he's fighting him right now"
"No thats not possible. The only ones who know about it is my father and I." You said worridly.
Meanwhile while you were upstair lending a helping hand, downstairs Christine and Alfred were panicking because they lost control of Jason's com and the main computer.
'Alfred I can't find him" Christinen cried, " How did he just disappear like that?
"I don't know miss, there's no possible way he could've."
"Wait." Christine says looking up to the screen, " Bruce and Tim are gone"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"How did you get con-"
"It's not important" You say cutting Batman off, " Listen to me, Joker doesn't have the cure."
"How do you know that?" The dark knight asks skeptically
"Because, until my dad figured it out, there was no cure." You say impatiently, " This chemical wasn't intended to have a cure."
"But you figured it out?"
"YES" You shout frustrated at the constant repetition, " DO you want the step by step or do you want to save lives?"
"hm" Bruce grunted, " And you know how to make it?"
"I do." You say earnestly
There was a pause, you heard grunting and what sounded like fighting in the background.
On Bruce's side, he managed to get the Joker disarmed and tied up.
He searched him for what he claimed was the vial containing the cure. But upon finding it, the Joker decided to throw his head back connecting with Batman's face. The sudden impact caused him to drop the vial, shattering it on the linoleum floor. The liquid oozing out and burning a hole into the floor.
"Ooops" the Joker cackled, " Aww poor Batsy, I guess I may have told a little white lie"
As Bruce rose from the floor, Robin ran in holding another vial
"Batman, the antidote." He says with a stern look on his face.
The smug smile fell from the Jokers face as he looked at the preteen.
"Thats...that's not possible!" Joker cried out, " There is no cure. There was never a cure."
Batman looked Joker straight in the eye, " No Joker, it looks like you miscalculated."
And with that, a swift punch to the face knocked the Joker out. A breath of relief flowed from the Batfamily. Now they can focus on what really mattered, helping the infected.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Back in your room you paced, after explaining how to make the cure, you hadn't hear back from the family. The anxiety you had building up in you made your heart feel as of it was going to explode.
"Y/n" Jasons voice came from your computer, " It worked."
You felt like crying, " Really? Are you for real?'
"No I'm lying and everyone died" Jason said sarcastically, " Yes I'm for real."
"Thank god" You said wetly
"Oh god are you crying?" Jason said uncomfortably
"No." and with that you disconnected, allowing access back to the main computer downstairs. After doing that you sat on your be, taking a couple deep breaths to calm yourself. But the tears kept flowing. You were so worried that you didn't get the information to Bruce on time. You were worried about the people that were exposed for too long. The ones that the antidote may not have worked on.
You may have been able to help a few but how many more could you have saved if you were listened to right away. The anger simmered back in your body.
You hated that Christine treated you as if you were a child. She completely disregarded what you had to say and took a shot at your father. At least he was smart enough to know that you were capable of more than just sitting and twiddle your thumbs.
You had half a mind to go down there and give her a piece of you mind. But before you could, a chime came from your phone
"Hey Starky! guess who's on the neighborhood <3"
Wade?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By the time the Batman co. finally made it back to the cave they all were exhausted. Every single one of them wanted to get home and take a shower. Dick and Jason would be staying at the manor simply because they couldn't muster up the energy to make their respective journeys back home. Damian and Cass were knocked out in the back of the batmobile and even Bruce was having a hard time staying awake while driving.
Honestly, ever since his family was created, Bruce/Batman became less about vengeance and more about protecting the city that he and his family live and care about. And maybe, if there was anyway that he can help mend the relationship between your family and his, perhaps you can be a part of his team as well, as sad at it was to say your hacking skills were way above his and Tims.
Lost in thought, Bruce didn't realized that when he pulled in Christine was in borderline hysterics and Alfred looked a little more frazzled than usual.
"Oh! Bruce!", Christine cried throwing herself into the confused bat, " What happened?! Is everyone one okay?"
"Christine, darling what are you-" Bruce was puzzled, Christine always had somewhat of a flair for the dramatics but there should be no reason for her to be this worried, especially because she's able to see everything .
"I thought we lost you! All of you!" Christine cried, eyes welling up with tears," The coms cut our for what felt like hours and then the main computer crashed! Me and Alfred both were barely able to get it rebooted before you got here!"
"Wait, if the main computer crashed then how was Y/n able to talk to us through the coms?" Tim asked tiredly, only jolting awake when Jason harshly elbowed him, signaling him to shut up about your participation.
"What do you mean? Y/n has been in her room this whole time." Christine says with a look of confusion on her face.
The batfamily all looked at each other, silently daring each other to step up and tell the truth, and face the wrath of their mother. Even Bruce didn't want to rat you out, knowing where Christine stood on her thoughts of you being involved.
Now don't get the wrong idea, Christine is by definition an overprotective mother. Theres no doubt about that. But there is a reason as to why she wants you out of the hero life and spot life in general.
Firstly, you are Tony Stark's daughter. There is no getting around that. And being Tony Stark's daughter also means you're Iron Mans daughter. And that is the whole reason you are there in Gotham in the first place. Amidst all the familial drama, everybody seemed to forget that you are still being hunted by an anonymous group. But Christine hasn't. Every night she lies awake worried to death that that was the night they found you. That they would come for you.
Secondly, the villians that her husband and family deal with are...for lack of words psychoic. If they figured out that you, Iron mans daughter, was helping their enemy Batman there would be more people after you. And from what Christine has witnessed these people do, the horrors and atrocities they casually commit. That frightens her even more.
So, with that being said, the look on her families face and the circumstances that had just occurred, it wasn't hard for her to figure out the cause of their technical malfunctions. And what a coincidence that these malfunctions only happened after you were sent to your room.
"Bruce.", Christine said in a clam even tone, " What are you not telling me." She didn't ask she demanded.
"Darling." Bruce said in a pleading tone, " It was a long night for everybody, why don't we just discuss it in the morning"
"Discuss it in the morning?" Christine asked incredulously, " Discuss it in the morning?! Do you know how worried I was? How worried WE were" She gestures to herself and Alfred who looked mildly uncomfortable to be put in the argument, " We thought you were injured or worse DEAD!"
The kids tried to slowly back out, inching towards the elevator that you totally didn't know was there.
"Don't even think about it" Christine said without looking at them, " How dare you all? How dare you? I asked ALL of you for one simple thing. Just one. To keep her OUT of it."
"Christine that's hardly fair-" Bruce started to say before getting cut off.
"No! It is totally fair! There are PEOPLE after her. People who are still out there by the way! Tony and his team haven't been able to find them! They keep slipping away whenever they get close! They are out there, trying to get MY daughter, for god knows what!"
Bruce glances towards the staircase entrance but before he can say anything Christine goes on, " DO you understand how hard it has been to keep anything from this world from her!"
"Ma she grew up in this world, it's not fair to just cut her out" Jason cuts in, " She feels left out because we're all pretending like we aren't who we are and pretending as of we don't have The Tony Starks daughter in our house. She's not a civilian, she's in it."
"She is not just Tonys daughter she's mine too!" Christine shouts before tears start to drop from her eyes, " Shes MINE, she can't be taken from me."
In the batmobile, Cass buries her face into a sleeping Damians chest.
"Mom, do you think any of us would let that happen?" Dick finally speaks up, " I mean, come on have a little faith"
" I just wanted her to stay out of it, to get out for good."
" Darling, that girl was not made to stay out of things, look at whp her parents are," Bruce chuckled, " Besides, she's never going to come around if we don't fully open ourselves up to her as well."
"You have to admit Ma, fighting is the only way any of us bonded" Jason says, " Except me, she likes me."
"I don't know why " Dick says with a frown, still bitter at the fact that you had bonded with Jason before him.
Christine sniffled before saying, " I still need to go talk to her, the way she cut us off was unacceptable."
"But-" Tim finally spoke out but it was too late, Christine was already marching to the elevator, mind made up about scolding you for what she thought was a practical joke.
The rest of the team was left in the Bat cave shaking their heads at their mothers stubbornness.
Bruce's sighed and started to put things away, " There's going to be fight and I don't want to be in the middle of that."
The three awake boys nodded.
" Someone wake up Damian and Cass, they need to go to bed."
Jason and Dick pushed Tim forward, if there was one other thing they didn't want to get in the middle of, was those two and their sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Back upstairs you were filled to the brim with anger. You had gone downstairs to greet the returning heroes and rub your success in Christines face, only to overhear what you had already confirmed.
Christine had been purposefully keeping things from you. Not only about Bruce being Batman ( Which you already knew), but about your situation.
See, when you had first moved to Gotham, you knew that there would be almost little to no contact with your family. The few times you were able to talk to someone from back home it wasn't even your parents. Something about phone lines being traceable and unreliable.
The only line of communication was given to you by Natasha before you left, a single flip burner phone that was only to be used for emergencies.
But Christine apparently was getting updates directly from your father. Updates you were sure were meant to be given to you. So not only had she had a hand in the intentional isolation of you from her family, she was trying to isolate you from yours as well.
It made you so angry! You already have sacrificed so much just to be here and you didn't even want to be there in the first place. You ripped open your laptop and went to do a little digging. Upon doing that, you found about a dozen of lengthy emails from your father describing in great lengths about your situation and details about life back home. These emails were obviously meant to be read by you and they all were marked as read and filed away. How they got to the Batcomputer was unknown to you but as you scanned each word tears welled up into your eyes, you father had not forgot about you.
You sat on the bed, taking deep breaths trying to calm down. You managed to restrain yourself and not blow up at that woman in front of her whole family and you really were trying to calm down so you can have a mature conversation about it.
You were trying.
but then, "Y/n Stark how dare you disobey your mother!"
What?
"What?" You say eyes ripping open and anger finally bubbling over
"How dare you! I asked you for one thing! All I wanted was to make sure my family would have been okay!"
"And are they dead?" You ask bluntly, " Is everyone who was infected dead?"
Christine turned red, " That is not the point young lady and I don't appreciate you talking about your family like that."
"They are NOT my family!" You shout, " You are not my family"
'Y/n" Christine start but now you were the one to cut her off
"NO, and since we are on the topic of not appreciating things lets talk about how I don't appreciate how you have been deliberately LYING to me."
"Excuse me?" Christine asks angrily, " I will have you know that I do not have to disclose every single piece of information I have to yo."
" Not even when it's about my own father." You said with an even tone, " Or do you not have to disclose that piece of information to me."
Christine lifts her chine, " Y/n I have no idea what you are talking about?"
"Oh you don't?" You ask," So you and your husband aren't hiding emails from my father to me in that big ass computer?"
Eyes widen, " How do you -"
"How do I know about that?" You mock, " So it's true?"
"Y/n that's not the point" Christine started, " Your practical joke could have seriously put the lives of your siblings in danger."
" My siblings?" You ask, " They are not my siblings! I don't even know those people!"
Christine stays quiet, then shakes her head, " If you would just come out of the room and get to know them other than Jason-"
"Why so they could tell me how great you are?' You say, " So they can tell me memories they have of you being a good mother to them?"
Christine's eyes well up with tears, " Y/n that's not fair"
"Oh that not fair to you, mom?" you shout, " And it was so fair to me when you left me to raise another kid?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the hallway Dick and Jason are paused half way up the staircase.
Dicks heart falls into his stomach at your comment, knowing that that kid you were talking about was him.
Jason on the other hand had a grim look on his face. He knew that this conversation needed to happen in order for anything to move on.He knew the years of resentment you were holding on to. It wasn't fair to you that everyone in this house had this subconscious expectation that you should just put those years behind you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"That is not what happened" Christine says wetly, " It was just hard, Y/n you don't understand."
"Hard?!" You shout angerliy, " It was hard? Hard for you to visit your daughter once every three fucking months? Was it hard for you to lead my dad on then crush his heart every time you left?"
"NO Y/N thats not true" Christine shouted but before she could continue you went on
"No???" you mocked, " Then what was it mom?"
" Everytime I went to see you, you had grown." Christine sniffs, " You had grown and had new adventures and stories and milestones that i was not a part of. I-"
"OH bullshit!" You shout
"Y/n." Christine says sadly
"NO, no you don't get to play that card! You left by choice!" You cry, " You left me by choice, you hid me away by choice! You chose this life for us."
" I loved you so much. I LOVE you so much Y/n!"
"You have a funny way of showing it." You say dryly, " You have this perfect life here. Perfect husband, a shit load of kids who adore you. I adored you. Why wasn't I enough?"
Christine's heartbroke and she couldn't answer you because truthfully, she didn't have an answer.
"And the one parent I was enough for I had to leave. I had to leave him and my mother behind for my other one who didn't want me. And I'm stuck in a house full of these kids who adore you and didn't know that I adored you well before them. And yet even though I'm here I'm alone. And that still isn't enough for you."
Christine wanted to say you weren't alone. You weren't because you have her. She's here for you, but that wasn't true. She hadn't been there. She wasn't there even when she was.
"You had to make me think my father forgot about me the way you did for what? So I can like you again? So I could forget all the times you promised you were going to come see me and you didn't? Why?"
"I..I just wanted to keep you safe.." Christine spouted pathetically.
"Safe?" You said, herding her towards your door, " No, everything you've done is because you want to look better. You're selfish. That's what you've always been"
And with that you slam the door in her face, startling the boys on the stairs and Christine as she didn't even realize that she was in the hallway.
Staring at your door she wept. For once, truly feeling the regret that she said she had been feeling. She did truly love you, she had not lied about that. To hear you finally say how you weren't enough for her broke her heart.
"Ma..are you okay?" Jason softly asked as Dick went to knock at your door, a bit angry at the way you spoke to his mother,
"Leave her be." A soft voice demanded from the hallway, " Dick, leave her be. Your mother was not the only one hurt in that conversation."
Bruce walked to Christine, and gently lead her to their room.
Upon the commotion outside, no one heard you open your window and slip out.
"It's about time, I almost died waiting for you."
"You can't die, that's your whole thing." You reply, wiping tears from your face.
"You're crying." Wade says in an unnaturally serious voice, " Do I have to kill your hot mom?"
You cringe, " No, just get me out of here."
"I could do that, actually I have a surprise for you~" He sings as he leads you to his taxi...
You heard what sounds like banging coming from the trunk and you're slightly scared to open it.
"Wade.."
"Oh don't be a pussy" He says opening the trunk.
Popping out with a gasp is
"Peter?" You say with a sigh, eyes welling up with tears again. You truly have missed your friends.
"That was not cool Wade!" He shouts, not grasping where he was, " The trunk smelled like nachos and vomit! I couldn't nngh-"
He grunts as you throw yourself into his arms, " Y/n.."
His arms wrap around you tightly, " Y/n what are you.. Where am I?"
"Gotham, now get me the hell out of here."
And with that, you're loaded into the car, taking the backseat with Peter and Wade in the front with an Indian man.
"Y/n this is Dopiender"
"Hello ms. Stark, I promise I will defend you with my life."
"Oh...well, thank you."
"This was surprisingly easy." Wade said as they pulled out of the long driveway, " Bruce Wayne should update his security."
What they didn't know, was that a pair of bright green eyes watched your reunion through the security camera in the Batcave. Squinting as they saw the tears flow freely through your face and noting the license plate and the men you were with.
#marvel x reader#avengers x teen!reader#marvel#reader insert#dc comics x reader#tony stark x daughter!reader#bruce wayne x daughter!reader#dick grayson x reader#jason todd x reader#x reader
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Darling I am SO SORRY for adding yet another request to the already enormous pile but OH MY GOD your buggy family saga keeps me thinking! The way buggy wants to have daughters! The way the twins have regular noses but CONSIDER!!!! him and his lady having a baby girl and AHHHH she got his nose!!! Little cherry baby! At first he's so afraid because of his own I security and then he's DETERMINED that his baby girl will never feel that shame or I security neverrr
Cherry Babies 🍒
- Support me on Ko-fi please, For Ramen 🍜
- Old Man Series
• Buggy is head over heels in Love with his Daughters. Ari and Ali- has shown them off to everyone and holds them constantly.
• "Look at my daughters! They are so beautiful! Makes your baby look ugly!" He laughs at a random villager-
• You having to apologize and just explain he's excited-
• Calls them a host of Nicknames like with the Twins. The boys he always calls Peanuts or Double trouble.
• For the girls he has adopted Cherries or Bubble & Squeak. Mainly due to Ari Seeming to always be blowing spit bubbles which he has to clean and Ali being the more vocal of twin and making a host of random noises.
• He trains Dee and Bee more- Wanting them to learn how to protect their sisters and guard them.
• Speaking of the boys, They love their sisters. At first they were jealous assuming that the babies would steal all of the attention, That was till they returned from the ship after your labor and found that you would be in deep recovery from the birth. So Buggy was dealing with the girls mostly- thats when the boys decided to help their father till you were better and fell in love with them just like Buggy did.
• The twins had become massive helps to You and Buggy. Often without even needing to be asked-
• A few weeks after the birth Buggy walked into the nursery to check on the girls and found Dee asleep leaned next to the crib were the girls were and Bee asleep on the floor.
• Buggy had never felt such a strong swell of pride before and picked up the boys and tucked them into their proper beds that night. A smile on his face the whole time
• If anyone mentions their noses- GOES APE SHIT
• A nurse was the first one to be on the end of this treatment- It was there one month check up and the Doctor had given the clear the girls were happy and healthy. He had brought his assistant a young male nurse with him to help with things like weighing both twins and documenting results.
• Buggy caught his eye staring at thier noses and his eyes narrowed dangerously. The nurse fucked up though when he said 'Do we check the noses?.. was that normal?"
• The Doctor and you knowing that there was no stopping Buggy as he screamed in the Nurses face and proceeded to beat him to death-
• He will constantly be paranoid something Is wrong with the girls.
• "(Y/N) Why is she crying like this?" He panics as he holds Ari who is crying hard. You walk over calmly to see the man on the verse of tears as you do a quick check over and touch her rounded stomach which immediately leads to a dart and her quieting down.
• "She just has gas-" Buggy stares "Oh-"
• When the twins open their eyes and start to look around Buggy is overjoyed. Especially when he sees they have his eyes, Is immediately swooned.
• AKA HE THROWS A PARTY
• Buggy of course had thrown another party, Like he did with all his kids it seemed. Dee figuring out how to read the maps- Party. Bee making his first Bomb- Party so now that the girls had opened their eyes- PARTY
• It's a massive event with his entire crew involved. Food, Music, Drinks, the works.
• You catch him buzzed off his ass swaying to some music while holding the twins against his chest. You go to protest and scold him- But notice he is actually levitating by his ankles to keep from tripping as well as using the baby scarf to hold them up.
• It was oddly cute? Here was this pirate, high bounty and nasty reputation red in the face singing along to the music while holding his daughters.
• Ari is wide awake looking around at all the new things while Ali is peacefully asleep cuddled into Buggys chest.
• When he turns you see Bee asleep on his back, like a piggyback ride.
• You of course snap the picture of Buggy holding three kids at once.
• Will want to set back to sea by the Girls 3rd month and has the ship ready by then. He knows its difficult but feels safer on the sea then on land ironically as well as He has been on this island for a year and doesn't want to lose his reputation.
#x reader#one peice x reader#one piece#one peice live action#buggy one piece#buggy the clown x reader#buggy x reader
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knock him down a peg
pairing: QZ!Joel x F!Reader x Tess
word count: 4.4k
summary: A follow up to Never Pegged You For A Quitter. After a raid gone wrong, Joel's been acting out. Cue an attitude adjustment. Inspired by this ask! 🩷
content/warnings: threesome, pussy eating, anal fingering, Tess is 'daddy', sub!Joel, fucking with a strap-on, reader is injured, Tess is protective af about reader, Joel nuts a frankly concerning amount, references to fisting, Tess slaps Joel
a/n: uhhhh i've been working on this for MONTHS but i think it's finally ready?? shoutout to my co-writer @ozarkthedog without whom this wouldn't exist -- thank you for letting me scream about all of my horny Tess thoughts, helping me organise my brain, giving me about a million good ideas, and encouraging me the whole way thru, and to @sp00kymulderr for giving me the fic title (did you know you did that?? you did. thank you!!)
The three of you had been planning for weeks; maps spread out across the kitchen table. Packs filled with ammo and food and product. It was an immaculate plan, every variable accounted for.
It still went tits up.
Just that morning, FEDRA had changed patrol routes altogether, so your route out wasn't clear anymore. It was no matter, you'd figured. You could head south, through the old high rises, and hook around.
That's when you discovered why FEDRA changed their routes.
Swarms of infected like you'd never seen them had flooded the buildings, hissing and flailing and scrambling towards you. Tess nearly got bit. And then once you made your drop and collected your payment, you had to go back through again.
Tess and Joel had taken the rear, and you'd gone ahead, ending up face-to-face with a slimy FEDRA lackey who took all of the cards you had on you, half your new product, and still put you in lockup for three days.
All in all, bad.
Arguably better, though, than the noose.
Tess had been waiting for you when you got out and scanned over you as you limped your way out. Your shoulder had been dislocated, but she'd reset it as soon as you were let outside, cussing out the disinterested agents who were watching you, telling you to breathe deep and setting it on two when she made you count to three.
Now, you’re home, sat across from Tess, hissing as she dabbed iodine on the oozing cut beneath your eye. There was a gash on your abdomen that was just shallow enough to avoid the need for stitches. Small miracles. You watched her scan over you, head-to-toe, as if you were hiding some extra life-threatening wound that neither of you knew about yet. Her concern was firm and fierce; never sweet words, but warm hands and a careful touch.
Joel, however, wasn't handling things well. He was pacing back and forth, dangerously quiet. He wore a mean scowl, and his eyes were nearly black with fury. You could see all of his tells; the clench of his jaw, the flash of his eyes, the way his fingers twitched nervously and he refused to make eye contact with you.
The more he paced, the more Tess tensed till suddenly she snapped.
"Sit the fuck down, Joel. You're not helping, pacing like that," she scolded. He practically growled in response.
"It was fuckin' reckless," he spat, "Shouldn't've let her go ahead."
"Her?" you scoff, "We all decided I should go ahead. Someone's gotta do it, and I'm as much a part of this as you are."
He glowered.
"You think you're some kinda savior?” Your shoulder smarts, and the more Joel talks, the more you want to smack him. “Gotta protect me, is that it?"
“You’re more important here,” he argues, punctuating his point by jabbing his finger towards you, “Plottin’ out the routes, trackin’ product, inventory-”
“Joel-” Tess interrupts, “You know as well as I do that she’s been doing this just as long as we have. You wanna know why you weren’t the one going ahead?”
The guard dog reels, as if he didn’t know his place and his role were calculated. As if it weren’t something Tess would ensure.
“You’re talkin’ bout reckless? You’re the one getting reckless, Joel,” Tess hisses.
“It shouldn’ta gone like that-”
“Shit’s gonna go bad, sometimes. But we’re all here. We’re all okay.”
Joel huffs a sigh. “We nearly weren’t.”
Tess ignores him. “And you think being a martyr, putting yourself in danger ahead of us is gonna help us in the long run?”
“If I’d been up front-”
“If you’d been up front, right now we’d be cleaning your oozing face. Maybe you’d have some broken ribs, too.”
“But-”
“Nah. Shut the fuck up, Miller.”
Joel scoffs, nostrils flaring. Shakes his head and rolls his eyes.
The eye roll–that’s the final nail in the coffin.
Tess glowers. “You’d better fix your fuckin’ attitude, Joel, or I’ll fix it for you.”
He grinds his jaw, glaring at you both in turn.
But then Tess sees it; the way he’s starting to get hard in his jeans. You see it too, and you start to notice other things; the flush of his cheeks, his pupils dilated, blown black.
“Oh-,” Tess smirks and turns to you, “Look at that, baby. Looks like he wants a little attitude adjustment.”
You expect him to fire back, make some quip, talk some shit. Instead, he looks ahead. He avoids making eye contact with either of you. A deer in headlights.
“C’mon, Joel.” Tess soothes, stepping forward to rub small circles on his hips, holding and settling him with a surprisingly gentle touch. "Instead of letting you be a stubborn jackass, maybe we oughta fuck some good sense into you.”
Joel doesn’t groan, he just lets out a breath. You do groan.
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how to be good for us,” she taunts.
You’ve been on the receiving end of Tess’s mean streak before and it’s embarrassing how immediately it excites you. Whenever you think about it, your stomach flips and you have to actively restrain yourself from rubbing your thighs together. Her voice was then as it is now–gleeful and mocking. She made sure you learned your lesson- you fucked up, so now I gotta teach you how to act right.
The last time you’d seen her like that, the night had ended with your ass on fire, covered in raised handprints. Painful indents of bite marks bruised beautifully up along the insides of your thighs, and you’d come so many times you nearly passed out. These days when you touch yourself, you’re thinking of that; how Tess must’ve been wrist deep, fucking her whole fist into you as she opened her mouth, tongue ready and waiting, grinning when your release splashes her face and drips down her chin, telling you, “Now that’s better, baby.”
Now, fully back in the moment, you’re looking at her and you can see the fire in her eyes. Tess grabs you by the collar, kissing you hard. It’s a dizzying few moments as she licks into your mouth, tongue hot and sweet. You love how she tastes.
When she pulls away, you’re breathless and she’s smirking.
“Take a seat, honey,” she tells you, and pushes you back. You stumble and land in the armchair behind you. Then she turns to Joel. “You,” she fixes him with a stern glare, “No touching. Behave.”
She exits the room. You and Joel are left in silence.
You don’t know exactly what Tess has in mind, but you’ve got a pretty good idea.
Joel watches you, wordless. You can feel the energy, the urgency vibrating out from him, but he says nothing. Barely moves. Tess has him trained well.
You unbutton your jeans and lower your zipper. Shimmy them down your hips, past the swell of your ass, and kick them off.
There’s a sharp intake of breath, and you know Joel’s just noticed you’re not wearing any underwear. You recline back, letting your legs spread. Letting him see every part of you.
The wound on your abdomen is hot, a burning pulse. Your shoulder aches. Your jaw stings. You’re pretty sure your face is a swollen, puffy mess, especially where the gash beneath your eye still weeps, and there are bruises in the shape of handprints all down your arms.
You need to feel good. Not broken or disregarded, and certainly not made to feel inadequate. You’d gotten your ass handed to you. Now, you need to indulge in some of your more hedonistic pleasures. And, you want to torture Joel, just a little.
Hoping Joel’s watching, but refusing to look up to see, you start to trace along your body. Your fingertips brush your lips first, trailing down your chin, your throat, your collarbone. It’s grounding. Assessing. You need to know what will make you feel good and what will cause you pain.
Slowly, you follow down your shirt, taking a moment to pinch your nipples, tracing a path along your belly, and then to the thatch of curls between your thighs.
You hear a restrained breath, and now you know Joel’s watching. You cup your mound, feel your own heat in your hand. You don’t want to go too far, don’t want to really start before Tess is back, but there’s no harm in warming yourself up.
A few minutes later, as you’re stroking your cunt, feeling yourself start to drip, she walks back in.
What a fucking sight to behold. Her own shirt is unbuttoned, harness secured at her waist and thighs, the firm silicone cock hanging heavy between her legs. She’s beautiful, breasts unconstrained by any bra, nipples hard, and legs so toned. She looks at you, your naked self, and her scowl softens.
She turns to Joel. “Now, that’s a good girl, huh? Look at that.”
Joel says nothing, just grunts a vague noise of affirmation.
Tess raises a brow. “Really, Joel?” she admonishes, “You had plenty to say earlier.”
He’s grinding his jaw, has been grinding his jaw for a while. You start to gingerly pull the shirt you’re wearing off and over your head, and Tess leans down to help, taking care to avoid your fucked up shoulder, all your cuts and bruises.
“This is what’s gonna happen,” she tells Joel, “I’m gonna fuck our girl, and you’re gonna watch. If you’re good, then we’ll fuck you, too. Got it?”
Joel grumbles an affirmation, but Tess is sick of his avoidance. She rounds on him, closing the space between them in only a few steps, and slaps him hard on the cheek.
“-The fuck, Tess.” Joel growls, and he’s mad now, “Goddammi-”
She smacks him again. “This isn’t a negotiation, Joel. You can leave if you want,” her eyes glance down to where his cock strains painfully against the fly of his jeans, “But I’m guessing you want to stay here and play with us.”
Finally, Joel looks at her. Directly at her. It’s like staring at the sun.
“Yes,” he admits, “I want to be here.”
“Good boy.”
Now, her attention turns on you. “How’re you feeling, baby?” she asks.
“Better every minute,” you grin up at her, fingers lazily swirling around your clit as you let yourself feel.
“Let me see,” she commands, and you let her spread your legs, opening your thighs wide as she examines your glistening cunt. She nearly gasps when she takes a look. “Oh, baby,” she praises, “Look at you-”, and it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.
It feels so vulnerable, having Tess on her knees in front of you, looking at you bare. She breathes in deeply, groaning as her nostrils fill with the smell of you. The vulgar eroticism sends another surge of arousal through you and you’re almost embarrassed at how much it makes you drip.
Gently, she presses an exploratory middle finger against your opening and hisses out a breath when she slips in easily.
She turns her wrist, twisting the digit, letting you feel the width of her fist pressing against your mound. The pressure against you is delicious. It obsessed you, every time you considered it; the way she can make every time feel like the first time. You could never get bored. She’s a force.
You want to taunt her or tease her, rile her up just a little more. You love her rough side. But you know she wouldn’t go for it, the state you’re in, and besides–you’re tired, and the way she’s fingerfucking you feels so goddamn good you can’t even think of a single thing to say.
She goes from stroking your folds and covering you with your own slick, to slipping her ring finger in with her middle. It’s an easy glide, too, and she starts pumping the digits, thumb hard against your clit as she works you open.
“God damn,” she groans, “All beat up and you’re still fuckin’ gushing for me, pretty girl.”
The pressure is overwhelming but you want to endure, need to endure. That doesn’t, however, stop your body from writhing and shaking, and the combination of her words and her ministrations, you know Tess feels how hard you’re clenching around her, feeling yourself get too close, too fast. She winks at you before turning back to Joel.
“C’mon over here,” she beckons him. He obeys, kneeling down beside her. She leans over and narrates. “Look at how she’s taking my fingers. Barely any resistance. Slipped right in, see how wet she is for me?”
Joel hums in acknowledgement, something between a sigh and a growl.
“Good thing she’s this wet already,” she tells Joel, nodding at the strap between her legs, “Otherwise you might have to suck it first-”
His growl turns into something like a whine, desperate and beautiful. You know more than most how much effort he’s putting into not allowing himself to speak. How he must really be desperate to get fucked if he’s restraining himself like this.
“And we know that’s not a punishment for you, don’t we?” She swats him on the cheek, “We all know how much Joel Miller loves suckin’ cock, huh?”
She’s not wrong. His eyes somehow grow darker, and you’re so focused at watching his reactions that you barely even register Tess spreading your legs even further apart till the head of her cock presses against your drooling cunt, and she slides the entire length in, bottoming out in a single smooth thrust.
“JESUS, Tess,” you cry out.
She just grins and holds you by the waist. “Hold on tight baby,” she tells you, “I know you can take all this and then some.”
After a few restrained thrusts, she finds her rhythm and starts fucking you. The initial sensation of being filled starts to wane, and you swear your pussy is a starving entity of its own. It wants and it wants and it wants.
The ache is so good, and she’s deep, too. It’s a perfect balance of pleasure and pressure. With each cant of her hips, you sink further into a blinding euphoria. It’s exactly what you need.
“Taking me so fucking good,” she praises, “Like you were made to take me. Goddamn, baby, you’re dripping like a faucet.”
“Needed this so bad-” you mumble, “Fuck, Tess, I need you-”
“You got me, baby,” she promises, “You got me, I’ll give you anything you need.”
Every word is punctuated by another thrust.
“Tell me what you need, honey.”
“Faster,” you gasp, “Please, Tess, need it faster-”
With a growl, she shifts you, pulls out for a moment and grabs you by the legs. She drags you further down the chair but rests the back of your calves on her shoulder before plunging the strap back in, deeper and rougher than before.
You wince a little, the tender part of your belly stinging, and she notices immediately. Rearranges you, just a little.
When she slides back in, the pain is gone. Only pleasure remains.
“See?” Tess snarls, “She knows how to be good, huh?”
Still holding your legs with one arm, she wraps the other around you and lands a hard smack on your ass, grinning when she feels you gush around her again.
You buck and writhe, and you know you have the stupidest grin plastered across your face.
She makes you dizzy.
“That’s it, baby,” she tells you. “So good, telling me what you need,”
“Fuck–” you rasp, “I’m gonna cum, Tess, please-”
She keeps to the rhythm, letting her fast strokes and the snap of her hips undo you. You’re close, so fucking close, but you can see the way she’s trembling, so focused on you, you don’t think she realises she’s close to the edge too.
Now, the only thing you want is for you both to cum together.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Tess, daddy, cum in me, please–”
A strangled moan leaves her, breathless, and she fucks into you and feels the way you tighten and pulse around the cock, feels the way you drip greedily down her thighs, and that’s enough; Tess comes with you.
As you come back out of the fog, your head is giddy with bliss. You’re tangled up, sweaty, sticky skin pressed together. You hold her close as she runs her hands up and down your back, soothing you. Your breasts are pressed together like a jigsaw puzzle, and the thought is silly, but it’s true.
The strength of your orgasm has knocked you numb, and it takes several moments for your vision and hearing to come back fully. Tess seems to be in the same boat, because it’s at the same time that you both hear it.
Slick squelches. Soft moans.
You both look over at the same time. Tess’s jaw drops. You feel another surge of arousal run through you as you focus on Joel.
“I’m- I’m sorry, honey,” he tells you, “Shouldn’t’a acted like that.”
You barely register his words. Instead, you watch how he’s stripped down near completely, barring his socks. That should make you laugh, but his legs are lewdly spread. With one hand he’s gripping his balls, clearly trying not to touch his drooling cock. With the other, he’s three fingers deep in his asshole, moving desperately. There’s a bottle of lube nearby and you can see its contents dripping down his wrist as he pumps his fingers hard and fast into his aching hole.
Tess looks stuck between telling him off for touching himself, and wholly impressed by his dedication to preparation.
“Well I’ll be damned,” she laughs, incredulous, “Someone’s eager.”
She’s still inside you, and you can feel another rush of your cum drip down the strap. An idea strikes you.
“Fuck him with it,” you tell her, looking down at the thick silicone as she glides out of you, “Fuck him with it, while it’s still dripping with me.”
Tess moves a hand to her breast, pinching and flicking at her own nipple, practically growling at your words. She stares at you for a moment. Then back to Joel.
He’s lost for words, too, it seems. He looks absolutely wrecked. His fingers are still buried deep, but they’re not moving anymore. Focus on the motion is forgotten, he’s just fixed on you both, eyes darting between you, waiting for a decision, any decision, to be made.
“Honey,” she smirks at you, “Why don’t you move over to the head of the bed there, that’s a good girl.”
You get up and scoot back, snorting a laugh as she swats at your ass while you rearrange yourself so your back is against the headboard.
“Spread those legs,” she orders. “Mmm yes, that’s it. My good fucking girl-”
She turns to Joel. “What a nice view, huh?”
Your lips are puffy and used, shining with slick. The room smells like sex, heavy and intoxicating.
“I think you’d better clean up the mess I made of her,” she gestures towards you and Joel doesn’t hesitate. “Hands and knees, Miller.”
He moves from his seat, crawling up the bed, wrapping his hands around your thighs and spreading them further.
The first stroke of his tongue feels like coming home. The hot, wet pass of it is intoxicating, and you’re already so sensitive you don’t need any focus on your clit to feel the build clutch at you again already.
“Good boy,” Tess praises him. He growls into you, the strokes of his tongue growing wider and faster, drinking up every drop of you.
He pulls away for only a moment. “Fuck me, Tess, please-”
“You focus on her and you’ll get what you need,” she promises, “But you’d better move fast, Texas.”
He sighs, but glances up at you. He nods, more weight to it than you’d expect, before he runs another lick up your cunt.
You shudder at the sensation, your legs turning to mush again. His calloused hands scrape against your thighs as he holds them apart, nuzzles at your pussy, dives back in, alternating between licking and sucking.
There are many things that can be said about the man worshiping between your legs, but no one could ever say he eats pussy with anything less than religious devotion.
He nibbles gently in a way that devastates, knocks you back and wears you down. Once you’ve hit one peak it doesn’t take you long to hit the next, and he has you on the edge so damn fast you’d feel embarrassed if you didn’t also feel so fucking good.
“Fuck,-” you breathe, “Fuck, Joel-! Can’t fucking stop coming- Fuuuckkk–!”
He blinks, dark brown eyes gazing up at you as he continues, relentless, barely impeded by the way your body is convulsing from the overwhelm of sensation.
You shudder on his mouth, legs shaking, involuntary whimpers turning into something more like panting whines and moans. You’re pretty sure the entire building can hear you. You really don’t care.
Tess has been watching the whole time, smirking but silent. Now she lines up her still-wet cock against his slick hole.
“Y’ready, Miller?” She asks, and you feel yourself melt at the tenderness of it. You fall in love just a little bit more, every time you see her soft.
He grunts an affirmation. His mouth is still on you but his movements slow and he buries his nose between your folds, nudging at you gently as Tess presses the head of her cock to his slick hole. The most beautiful whine slips out his mouth, reverberating against your cunt. You can feel the way his entire body moves, pressing up into you, as she lets herself loose, thrusting shallowly at first before snapping her hips in longer, deeper strokes.
With one particularly brutal thrust, he knocks forward. The curve of his nose hits against your clit and you come again with a shriek, soaking his face as he takes everything she gives him.
You’re worn out, spent and satisfied. You clutch him by the hair and yank him off of you, and now his moans aren’t muffled anymore.
He keeps his head between your thighs, breathing in your scent as the cum on his face cools and starts to dry. He’s loud, whining and grunting, taking Tess’s cock like it’s his only purpose.
“Fuck, Tessa-” he sobs, the heat of his breath on your used-up cunt. “Feels- so fucking- good.”
“Feels real fuckin good, don’t it?” she echoes, rhythm never ceasing, “Lettin’ your daddy fuck you like this.”
“Uh huh.”
“You wanna be good for me, say thank you?”
“I-” His words come out stilted, punctuated by each thrust. “Yes-”
“Say thank you, Daddy.”
“Thank- Thank- you- daddy-” he chokes.
“Thank you for what?” you prompt, and Tess grins. Joel looks up at you with a flash of something that could be fury or hunger.
“Thank you-” he hisses, “Thank you- daddy- for teaching me a lesson-”
“Good boy,” she soothes, “Say ‘thank you daddy, for teaching me how silly and childish I’ve been.’”
“Thank you daddy,” he echoes, “For teaching me how silly I’ve been. How childish. Ain’t been actin’ right. Not to you honey-” he presses a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh. Closes his eyes when he speaks to her. “Not to you either, daddy.”
“You feelin good, baby?” she asks him.
He breathes out a shudder. “Feels so fucking good, but–”
“But?”
“Need more. Need to be touched.”
“Poor baby,” Tess pouts, “I’m afraid we can’t do that.”
He whines, but nods.
“But since you’re taking this lil attitude adjustment so well, I suppose we can let you cum. That sound alright to you honey?”
“Sure,” you beam, “He can rub himself up against the mattress if he likes. Cum just like that.”
“Mmm yeah,” Tess agrees, “You able to cum from rutting up against the bed?”
“Yes- yes anything, please-”
“Love it when he begs,” you sigh and Tess hums in affirmation.
She presses him down, keeps her cock in him as she knocks him so he’s flat on the bed, legs splayed, swollen dick rubbing against the covers as she holds him by the hips.
This whole time, she’s kept a steady pace. Not quite brutal, but certainly not leisurely. You see the way his own hips rock as he humps the bed, trying to find an angle that’ll give him the release he needs.
“I’m- fuck, I’m getting close Tessa– Gonna fuckin cum–”
“Good,” she smacks him hard and watches the flesh of his ass shake deliciously from the blow.
The masochist he is, it’s all he needs to tumble over the edge.
He comes with a shout, cum painting the bedsheets and pooling on the fabric, coating his stomach, his cock, his balls. Tess is still inside him, still hitting his prostate with every stroke, and it strengthens his orgasm to a point of almost overwhelming intensity. After a few moments, you’re not sure if he’ll ever stop coming, the amount of it verges on concerning as the pool of cum threatens to trickle over the edge of the bed.
Finally, his orgasm comes to an end, and Tess’s thrusts slow.
They both reel back, panting, Tess pulling out gently and Joel whimpering at the loss of sensation.
“Good boy,” she tells him, unbuckling the harness and letting the strap fall to the floor.
“Fuuuuuckkkkkk-” he sighs, and you giggle. His eyes snap up to you, but he’s laughing too.
He shakes his head and starts to peel himself up from the sticky mess he’s made. “Sorry I’m such a jackass.”
“Eh,” you shrug, “We know you’re a jackass.”
He nods, considering.
“And–” Tess joins in, “We know how to set you straight.”
He snorts.
“Just– I know you were scared out there,” you tell him, and he must’ve been fucked real good because he doesn’t even try to argue. “We’re always gonna have close calls. But we’re in this together, yeah? Don’t shut me out just because you’re afraid.”
He’s silent for a moment. Then nods at you.
“Okay, honey. And- thank you, Tessa. You know how t’ keep me in line.”
“Anytime, Texas,” she grins.
You get up and turn on the shower. The rest of the day, you’ll get clean. You’ll rest. You’ll let your aching bones start their healing. Just over the sound of the shower spray, you hear Tess speaking to Joel; “Now, unless I’m much mistaken, it’s your turn to change the sheets-”
#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#tlou fic#tlou fanfiction#joel miller x f!reader#tlou#joel miller x tess servopoulos#tess servopoulos x f!reader#tess servopoulos x reader#save me daddy tess#daddy tess save me
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Hiii <3
Could you maybe write the monster trio + ace reacting to when their s/o is sick and has a fever? I’ve been pretty sick this week and I think this would be a cute idea T-T
Tysm<3
Hiii, you are my first ask and yes no problem! I hope you will feel better soon 🤍 Sending you much strength 🫶🏻
I Hope you will like it somehow. I didn’t know truly what direction I wanted to go but I would like to think it still satisfied your demand💕it’s 2am here so sorry for any mistakes, I will correct later 🤷🏻♀️
📂Op men + sick s/o reader
Featuring: Monster trio + Ace
Warning: Pure fluff so none, F!reader
Note: I got carried away. I wrote sm oml 💀
Luffy
Your name was being screamed across the ship by none other than the captain himself. He was excited to show you a new goofy trick that Chopper and him had come up with. But when he didn’t receive any response from you, he turned to the small reindeer with a confused expression.
-Oi, where is y/n ?
-She said she felt dizzy so she went to lie down in her room.
Nami answered him while putting down her magazine. She furrowed her eyebrows now also worried about your silent behaviour. It’s been now around three hours since you had left. You weren’t one to be overly loud like your boyfriend, but having you completely out of sight was worrisome.
-Aahh?! Nami! You should’ve told me she was feeling unwell!
Chopper screamed worried as he ran across the ship to grab his medical bag. He ran to your room, soon followed by Luffy and Nami.
As they opened the door, they watched your frame all curled up in the sheets as if it was cold outside. Luffy ran to you and touched your warm forehead.
-Chopper ! She’s burning hot! Do something!
-Yes!
Your eyes slightly opened from all the noises suddenly filled in your room.
-Everyone…what are y’all doing here…
-Y/N! ARE YOU OKAY?!
Luffy screamed happy to see you awake.
-DON’T SCREAM LIKE THAT! ITS NOT GONNA HELP HER HEADACHE AND FEVER!
-You are one to talk…, he mumbled under his breath after being yelled at by Nami.
-I think you simply caught a cold. I will ask Sanji to make you something warm and you will eat some medicine to help your fever go down.
Chopper concluded as he looked at you with his big eyes, reassuring you that you will be okay. You weakly smiled.
-Thank you, Choppy
-Y/N! I will keep you company until you feel better !
He announced suddenly determined. He caressed your hair softly and his eyes filled with worries. Nami shook her head and gave you a sorry smile.
-You don’t have to… I’m fine…
-No, you’re not. I will stay here with you until you are yourself again. I won’t leave you alone.
He retorted suddenly full of seriousness. It wasn’t like him to be so serious about things in general, but seeing him like that with you made your heart warm.
He indeed stayed the whole day and the day after too. He kept you company until you started feeling better.
He tried to make you laugh by telling you stupid stories about his childhood and doing goofy ass shit. He would ask Sanji to make you the best nutritive food he could so you will heal faster. He cuddled with you at night even though Chopper told him he could catch your cold. He tried his best to brush your hair, but he let that to Nami after failing miserably 💀.
He tried his best to make you forget you were suffering even though it could be just for a second. If he was able to make you smile, he considered you were slowly getting better. He loves you so much. So for him, you needed to stay by his side until you both achieved your goals and more, and he was gonna make sure of it.
Zoro
-Zoro, I think we’re lost.
-No we are not.
He said convinced of himself. You rolled your eyes well aware of the direction skills of your boyfriend. Y’all stopped for a second trying to figure your position (mostly you) in this jungle. You leaned against a tree and let your body slide down until you were sat on the ground. Your head leaned on the tree as you searched for the map you found on the ground yesterday.
-Aren’t you a bit too exhausted for a little walk in the forest?
Zoro teased unaware with a slight chuckle as he watched your frame completely relying on the tree to hold your body. You have been sweating a lot more than you are used to and fatigue waves were hitting your body since y’all slept in this jungle. You didn’t say anything not wanting to worry your boyfriend or the crew, but it was starting to take a toll on you.
-Yeah, I don’t know…
You replied without much interest to bicker with him. You pulled the map out of your bag and started to try to localize y’all position.
-Hey, are you okay?
You feel your boyfriend tower over you, creating a much needed shade. You blinked at him as you felt your vision getting weak and nodded. He shook his head and leaned towards you and placed his hand on your forehead.
-You are burning. We need to get you to Chopper.
-No don’t bother, I’m alright. It’s probably the heat from this place.
-Y/n, you’re obviously not feeling your best. You’re sweating and your body is barely keeping you conscious at this rate.
-I’m fine seriously.
You insisted with now tears in your eyes because of a sudden sharp pain you felt in your head. You had a bad headache in the morning but it seemed to have left, but now it came back even worse. Zoro eyes filled with worries seeing your eyes get teary. He picked up your body in a bridal style and pecked your forehead.
-Okay let’s try to find the others as quick as we can.
You chuckled knowing it would probably take hours with his poor direction skills. You let your head rest on his chest and closed your eyes. You trusted him no matter what anyway.
-Okay
It was the last word you said before you fell asleep in his arms. Sanji and Chopper had randomly fell on the both of you as Zoro was walking with you in his arms and yelling the crews name to grab their attention. He explained shortly the situation to the doctor. They decided it would be better to head back to the ship.
After some time you opened your eyes and saw y’all were still walking in this warm jungle, but with now Sanji at the front followed by Chopper.
-You’re awake? How do you feel?
Zoro deep voice asked you softly, but his eyes were still following the cooks figure.
-I’m okay, thank you for carrying me.
He didn’t reply but simply smiled and nodded. His eyes looked down at you with a rare grin.
-Let’s just heal you already so we can go back to our explorations.
-More like finding our way out of being lost, you mumble weakly with a weak smirk.
-Yeah yeah whatever.
Sanji
-What a beautiful day, especially when I’m accompanied by my beautiful lady~
Sanji exclaimed while lightening up the cigarette at the edge of his lips. He tightened slightly his grip of your hand as he gave you a sweet look. You chuckled and rested your head for few seconds on his shoulders.
-Of course, how could I say no to a grocery shopping with my beloved man.
He blushed like crazy at the nickname and left a quick kiss on your cheek.
-AHHHH, Im so lucky to have you~ Look! The vegetables look fresh which is perfect when we have to sail for a long time.
He excitedly walked to the few standing shops to see the quality of the vegetables and you followed behind him, your hands still intertwined in his.
You weren’t paying much attention to what he was saying due to a little fever you caught this morning. You didn’t know the cause but you were still able to function, it was just giving you a harder time to do simple task. Like walking around the new island and spending time with your boyfriend, it was surprisingly more demanding than you would’ve thought.
-Did I lost you, ma jolie ?
He asked worried that he got carried away with his excitement to try new ingredients and buy fresh food for everyone. You used your other hand to caress his arm and reassure him.
-Of course not, I’m sorry. I think the heat is getting to me, it’s making me feel a little dizzy.
-Would you like to sit somewhere in the shade until you feel better ? We can go back to the ship if you want? I will make you something refreshing.
-I think sitting in the shade for a moment could help.
-Alright my love.
He kissed you once again and you two walked to a cafe and sat on one of the table on the terrasse. He ordered a cold drink for each of you. You closed your eyes and let your body lean over the back of the chair. You felt nauseous on top of the fever, it wasn’t your day.
-You look pale, darling.
Sanji expressed in a soft and worried tone.
-I think I’m sick, you retorted plainly, accepting your fate. You hated being sick but you knew not to push yourself too hard to heal faster.
-Should we head back to the Sunny ?
-I will. You still have to shop for the food. It’s important.
-You are important too. It won’t kill anyone if I do it tomorrow or later.
-Sanji, we can’t afford staying somewhere too long. Robin stayed on the ship, I’m sure we will figure something out until Chopper comes back.
-Are you sure darling? Let me at least walk you to ship and make sure you are okay before I go. Please?
You sighed and a smile curved your lips.
-I cant say no to you, can’t I ?
He smirked satisfied. After drinking your refreshers and paying, you both started to walk to the Sunny.
-Do you want me to carry you?
Sanji asked looking down at you. You were walking a little slow and you seemed out of breath. Your sweaty hand was tightly holding into your boyfriends one. He pushed your hair behind your ear and you blushed a little.
-I think I can do it…
-Like I’m gonna let my lady walk all the way to the ship in a sickness state.
He retorted determined after you turned him down. You secretly smiled to yourself. You loved how much of gentleman he was. He carried you all the way to the Sunny and asked Robin to take care of you until the doctor was back from his exploration.
He made sure she would run to any doctor if your state got worse. You reassured him it was simply a little fever and you were fine. He reluctantly left after making sure you were all comfortable in your sheets, that you had your favourite snacks, a big water bottle, your favorite books, etc.
-You are sure, you don’t want me to stay?
-Sanji, I swear to god if you don’t go I will kick your ass out of the boat.
He caressed your hair back and pecked the top of your head. He lifted your face by putting his finger under your chin as if he was trying to read your eyes and make sure you were truly honest with him. He gave you a long kiss on the lips and brushed your cheek with his thumb before pulling back.
-Alright! I WILL BE BACK SO REST A LOT! I WILL MAKE YOU A GOOD SOUP!
He exclaimed as he ran out of your room. Robin walked in after his departure to check up on you. You collapsed in your bed, eyes closed as sleep took over you. Robin shook lightly her head as she closed the door behind her. You stayed strong in front of him just not to worry him. Sanji made a bussing soup when he returned tho.
Ace
-So my girlfriend is sick ?
Ace spoke as he opened the door of your room. You were reading a book that you bought not too long ago at the last island y’all stopped. Your eyes looked at your freckled lover that had just bursted into your space.
-I guess I’m not so untouchable, you declared sarcastically with a smile. He scoffed and walked over to your bed. He softly grabbed your face and kissed you.
-Aren’t you scared of being sick by kissing me, you idiot.
-Like I care, I know I have my pretty girl who will take care of me.
-I ain’t no doctor Fire boy. The only nurse fantasy you will get is Marco.
-Can you not put images in my head.
You both started to laugh. He sat on your bed and stared at you.
-What
You finally ask after he stayed silent.
-You are still cute even in that state.
You lightly push his big arm as you roll your eyes. You were really self aware that your hair was a little bit a mess and you had a red nose. It wasn’t your best day, but it still made you blush to hear those words from him.
-I got you some candies. I know those are your favourite.
-Omg, I was in need of those. Thank you!
You exclaimed at the view of the candies in the small bag he had brought. Your pulled him into you and pressed your lips against his. He smiled against your lips and pulled away.
-I thought you were worried about me getting sick too.
He muttered barely few inches away from your lips. You grinned and wrapped your arms around his neck.
-Shut up and cuddle with me.
-Don’t you have a fever?
He asked conscious of his abnormal body temperature because of his DF.
-Yeah but my body feels cold. You know how getting sick just fucks up your body temperature.
He shrugged his shoulders not truly sure to understand what you meant but he kissed your lips again before pushing himself in the bed next to you.
-Sooo, what were you reading?
-A romance book- oh babe, can you grab the bottle on my desk? Marco told me to drink some this morning before he left but I got distracted.
He nodded and stood up grabbing the bottle for you on the desk. He opened it and poured some on a spoon.
-Open your mouth.
You grinned and opened your mouth. You drank the bitter medicine with a slight chill going down your spine.
-Damn that was gross
You said while sticking your tongue out.
-When it’s gross, it means it’s gonna work fast.
You perked your eyebrow at him and smiled.
-Since when are you a doctor, baby?
-Since my pretty girl is sick.
He replied after jumping in your bed and pulling you to rest on his chest. You closed your eyes to just enjoy the moment. You let your arm rest on his waist as your ear was pressed against his chest, hearing his soft heart beats.
-I think I’m already feeling a little bit better, you comment as you feel your body relax in his embrace.
A silent fell between you two. You furrowed your eyebrows.
-Ace ?
You looked up only to see he was dead asleep.
#one piece#one piece zoro#portgas ace smut#portgas ace x you#portgas d ace#zoro fluff#zoro headcanons#zoro smut#black leg sanji#sanji headcanons#sanji fluff#sanji x you#sanji x reader#monkey d. luffy#luffy x reader#luffy fluff#one piece headcanons#ace one piece#ace fluff#portgas ace x reader#zoro imagine#op sanji
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lovefool — “you’re welcome to stay, if you want” w eddie!!
librarian!reader is always calling my name so i needed to do something before i combusted | 1.1k fem!reader
Eddie’s got his feet propped up on the study table and his chair teetering on its hind legs. The dull sound of his rings tapping the hardcover in his hands fills the immediate space. Despite the fact that he’s actually read this particular horror novel at least thrice before, today it only serves as bookworm-ish guise.
The boy aimlessly flicks through the pages, eyes reflexively leaping over entire paragraphs to peak over at the reception desk. With each glance, he feels his heart start racing, his stomach starts flipping. And it has nothing to do with Stephen King, everything to do with you.
You’re sitting behind the polished wood with a pair of deep auburn-colored reading glasses perched on the bridge of your nose. Every so often, they slide down and prompt you to scrunch the muscles in your face and wiggle them back up. Whenever you ultimately give up and push them back into place with your finger, Eddie smiles to himself.
The pair of you have spoken quite a handful of times, but it only took Eddie seconds within that first interaction to be smitten. You’d worn a pretty color on your lips, an even prettier smile behind it. Your eyes lit up upon seeing the tower of Tolkien novels he’d placed in front of you to check out, then you’d complimented his taste, then his hair. Then as if to seal the deal, you reached underneath the desk to retrieve a flimsy bookmark with a map of Middle Earth and placed it on top of the stack.
Now, he’s proud to be a frequent library-goer. Admittedly he feels a little silly about it, at first. But the flash of recognition that crosses your face before you wave at him makes him forget.
You float through the building, burning hot under his watchful eye, shutting off yellow desk lamps and bidding farewell to patrons with a sweet smile. The closer you get to him, the more the familiar aroma of cigarettes and his cologne seem to engulf you. It’s your turn now to have your heart beat erratically in your chest.
“Hi, Eddie.” Your saccharine voice cuts through the silence and has him immediately closing his book. He gazes up at you, big brown eyes boring right into yours. Like he knows you’re about to swat his feet, he grins and kicks his legs down onto the floor.
“Hey,” he sighs out.
“Carrie’s that good, huh? ”
Eddie’s head twists in confusion. It’s like your presence sent him face first into a stupor, and now he’s racking his brain trying to figure out what you were asking. Only when you smirk and point at him does he realize you’re talking about the book. The book that’s in his hand, that he was meant to be reading this whole time.
“Oh! Yeah, Carrie,” he confirms with a gummy smile as he waves the novel up, “What can I say? The lady calls to me. You finished it yet?”
You wince at the question. A few weeks ago you’d each recommended each other a book, per Eddie’s suggestion. He’d read your recommendation within the week, returning it with a broad smile that made you feel giddy. It’s taken you a little longer. He sees it all over your face and gasps.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t read it, yet? You’re really hurting my feelings here, sweetheart.”
The nickname makes your heart catch in your throat and stumble on your words for a second. “It’s—I just…I started it! I promise. I just haven’t had time to read the whole thing,” you explain through a shy smile.
Eddie chuckles at your suddenly bashful demeanor before an idea pops into his mind. Even thinking about it makes him blush. He doesn’t give himself much time to dwell on the idea of your rejection before he’s blurting it out.
“I can read it to you.”
You watch him, surveying his expression to find any hint that he’s joking. But he’s got a doe-eyed look on his face. He’s dragging one of his rings across the curve of his lips with uncertainty.
“You’d…? You’re kidding,” you decide matter-of-factly.
He vigorously shakes his head, hair flying in every direction as he throws his hand over his chest. A bright smile shines across his face. “Cross my heart. I’ve been told I got a shot in the audiobook industry. Might even hear me on one of those little cassettes in the future.”
The boy is lying through his teeth. It’s rare that someone indulged in a positive conversation with him, let alone complimented his voice. Though, it makes you huff out a laugh, maybe a little too loud for a library setting and he swears his heart is about to break out of his rib cage.
You nod at him rather emphatically and agree, “Must be your charisma.” Your hand drops to pick at the chipped wood of the table and your gaze drops with it to hide from him.
“Hey, your words.” He tosses his hands up in the air, smugness tugging at the corners of his mouth. He clears his throat before asking, “What do you say? Think it’d be good practice for me to have a live audience.”
He looks so genuine, a soft expression taking over rough features. His leg bounces under the table with anticipation. His fingers move to where yours are, and he hesitantly reaches his pinky to your own. It’s just a tap, but it sends a tingle up your entire arm and has you reciprocating the touch.
He’s making it so hard for you to say no. You glance up at the clock on the nearby wall and frown. “Well, right now I’m kinda supposed to tell you that the library closes in a few minutes.”
Eddie spares a glance behind you and realizes that he’s the last person on this floor, maybe the entire building.
“Oh. Yeah, well…some other time.” His shoulders sink just slightly before he’s standing upright and smiling at you. “I’ll get out of your hair, m’lady.” He bends at the waist to bow at you, waving his arms theatrically.
You’re smiling at him again, something warm and entirely too sweet. As he turns to the exit, you feel something tug at your chest. Like he’s taking a piece of you with him. It has you calling out before you’re able to stop yourself.
“Eddie?”
He twists back and hums.
“You’re welcome to stay, if you want. I mean I’d love to take you up on the offer, if you don’t mind following me around while I reshelve some returns?” A nervous laugh falls from your mouth as you hitch your thumb towards the non-fiction shelves. Eddie spots your other hand still picking at the chipped wood.
He beams at you with flushed cheeks and a puffed chest.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
#the long forgotten celebration……………#im workikg throigh them! im motivated mow! not to fret!#ily roma thank you for sending this in <4333362525#ᝰ cece’s scribbles#✸ 100 celebration!#stranger things#eddie munson#eddie munson hc#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x reader#stranger things blurb#stranger things fluff#stranger things fic#joseph quinn
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cardigan
Pairing: Joel Miller x reader
Author’s note: *gasp* a stand alone drabble
Summary: “You can have my heart if you have the stomach to take it.” - Yves Olade, from Bloodsport; “When rome falls” aka you and Joel talk about scars [1.6k]
Warnings: talks of Joel’s attempt, grief, talks of self-hatred, feeeellliiinnnggggsss, learning to live despite it all
"Tell me bout this one." He asks as he traces over the jagged scar on your bicep. It always started with one, and then, before you knew it, you were mapping out each other's bodies like cartographers with sacred valleys and mountains never seen by another. You laugh and move your hair out of your face to see Joel better. He looks gorgeous in the calming orangish light of your room, his eyes bright and his muscles relaxed.
"I got into a fight with a tree branch and lost," you say, and he laughs, burying his head into your neck to hide the sound. You smile and shove at his shoulder. "I don't know why you're laughing at me. It was very scary."
"'M sure it was."
"Alright, asshole," you say as you grab his hand and trace the scar littering the space between where his thumb and pointer finger connect. It's long and silver and barely noticeable, but it looks like it would've hurt when it happened. "How'd you get this one?"
"Workin' my first job."
"What was your first job?"
"Mechanic."
"Your first job ever was being a mechanic?" You ask, and he nods like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "How old were you?"
"Sixteen. Maybe seventeen." He says. You try to imagine a much younger Joel with softer features and darker hair. That little creature of habit probably wore the same things he wears now, but with more Texas paraphernalia. Cowboy boots and a hat. Maybe even one of those absurdly large belt buckles. Just the thought of a skinny, sixteen-year-old Joel wearing a huge belt buckle makes you laugh.
"I bet you had all the cute girls coming in to get their car fixed, huh?"
"Somethin' like that." He smirks, and you roll your eyes.
"So, how'd you get the scar?"
"I cut it tryna fix an engine in an old car. It barely ran as is, and my boss wanted me to just gut the whole thing, but my dumbass wanted to see if I could fix it, and I cut my hand open on something. I still don't know what. Got blood all over the shop and had to get one of the guys to drive me to the hospital," he raises his right hand and traces the scar. "Ten stitches all through here, but other than that, everything was fine. Scared the shit outta my mama, though."
"D'you ever figure out what was wrong with the engine?"
"Nope. Boss replaced it before I could come back."
"Bummer." You say, and Joel hums, reaching up to feel for the thin scar on your neck. His fingertips are warm and gentle as he traces the bumpy skin like braille. Like he could know every piece of you through touch alone.
"Another fight with a tree branch?" He asks, and you chuckle.
"A fight with a pissed-off client. Held a knife to my neck because I didn't give him his usual supply."
"And is he still with us?"
"You're cute," you say as you brush some hair from his face. You try to smooth it down so it doesn't look as crazy, but your fingers catch on the scar on the right side of his head. You pause and let yourself memorize the feeling of the raised skin. It's long and rough as it peeks out of his hairline. He must've needed a lot of stitches if it's still so prominent all these years later. His breaths get shallow, and his eyes search your face. "Can I ask about this one?"
He takes a deep breath and nods. Wordlessly, he grabs your hand from the side of his head and kisses your fingertips. He traces circles into the back of your hand and stares at the ceiling. You watch his face change ever so subtly as he thinks, a quick pursing of his lips or a muscle in his jaw jumping when he glosses over the memories. You're convinced no one else in the world can read him like you can. You're a little smug about it, but you'd never tell him that. God forbid he try to school his microexpressions too.
"It happened the day after Sarah died." He starts, and your heart sinks. He swallows thickly and shakes his head. "I didn't care anymore. She was gone, and there was nothin' I could do to bring her back, but I thought... I don't know. I thought I could make the pain stop. So, I tried," he mimes pointing a gun at his head. "But I flinched. Still don't understand why. Tommy hauled me off to a FEDRA medical tent, and they patched me up. Scared him half to death findin' me like that." Your eyes flutter shut at the image of a frantic Tommy trying to get Joel medical help, both choking on their grief as they stumbled through. Joel always told you how much he worried about Tommy and made sacrifices for him. You wonder how many nights Tommy stayed up and watched Joel sleep so he wouldn't reach for his firearm again. You wonder how much pain they were in and never talked about it. When your eyes open again, Joel stares at the scar on your neck to avoid your gaze. You reach out to trace the shell of his right ear.
"That's why you're deaf in that ear." It was meant to be a question, but it comes out as a breathless realization, and he nods.
"It's why I'm deaf in that ear." He mumbles. You look at the scar with a new understanding and sadness. Your fingertips graze the rigid skin again, and his eyes fill with tears. He's waiting for you to flinch and pull away. He's waiting for you to ask him to never talk about this again. He's waiting for you to get angry at the past like he is. In slow, precise movements, you sit up until you're half on top of him, your eyes heavy with emotion. Then, so slowly he thought he dreamt it, you lean down and kiss the thing he hates the most about himself.
You linger for a few seconds like you're trying to repair the skin with your touch alone before moving to kiss the ear he's deemed useless. You kiss his forehead, nose, cheeks, and jaw, catching his tears as they fall. He holds you close and tries to bury his face in your neck to hide from the love he doesn't think he deserves. You put your hands on his cheeks to keep him in place and stare down at him.
"I'm so fucking happy you flinched." You whisper, struggling to keep your voice steady at the thought of him being gone before you could meet him. Then, you obliterate his world. "I'm so happy you're alive." You say.
In all his years on this earth, nobody has ever told Joel Miller they were happy he was alive. He doesn't know how to react. He just catches your lips and tries to press the words he can't find the strength to voice into you. I'm sorry. I won't do it again. It's okay if you can't love me like this, but Jesus fucking Christ, I hope you can try. I won't be weak anymore. You make me want to live. Nobody's been able to do that in a long time. Please forgive me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You let him flip your positions and hover over you, tears still falling down his cheeks as he kisses you.
Rays of early morning sunshine filter through the dusty window and cast shadows across the room. You both have to get up for work soon. You know what'll happen if you don't go, but you also want to get lost in the cartography of Joel. It's okay, you think. We have the rest of our lives. You rest your forehead against his, and he takes a shaky breath, thoughts crackling loudly in the quiet room. You grab his chin and turn his head so you can kiss the scar one more time before forcing him to look at you.
With determination and longing in your eyes, you say, "Stay with me." And you both know you're not just talking about the crisp October morning. Like so much of your lives, intention slips between the cracks for the other to pick up and examine like a long lost earring you find and wonder, "Where have you been this whole time?" He kisses you again, feeling his eyes prick with water before nodding.
"Okay," he says. "I'll stay with you if you stay with me."
"I'm not going anywhere, Miller."
"Good." He smiles.
The grief will never go away. It will never be fair that Sarah died that night. You can never go back to the people you were before that day. But you can do this. You can find ways to live not despite the pain but because of it. Because he loved Sarah. Because you were kind and empathetic before Cordecyps wiped that from memory. Because grief is a conglomeration of memories so jumbled together you can't tell them apart anymore, but you can still feel the love left behind. So, you'll continue to kiss the tears away and soothe the nightmares and stitch the wounds that will heal over into nasty scars with nastier stories. You'll endure as long as you can have more mornings like this.
And little by little, step by step, you'll learn how to do more than survive with him. You'll learn to stop waiting for the darkness to find you. You'll learn to be kind again, and he'll learn to forgive himself. Together, you'll make something whole and beautiful and worthy from your pile of broken pieces. It can't change the past, but goddammit, if it doesn't make the future look pretty good.
#the last of us angst#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#joel miller the last of us#joel miller hurt/comfort#the last of us hurt/comfort#tlou angst#tlou fic#tlou x reader#joel miller one shot#joel miller#tlou fanfiction#joel tlou#tlou hbo#tlou game#the last of us fic#the last of us x reader#joel miller angst
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Drafting the Adventure: Dungeons Without Walls
I love the idea of dungeons, but there was a significant portion of my life as a DM where they didn’t feature in my games. While Pathfinder and 5e provided a great framework for character building and tactical skirmishes that I could build story on top of, neither was really great when it came time to detour into a dungeon. My players tended to get confused when we headed out to plunder the local ruin or cave system, spending a lot more time figuring out where they were and what they should be doing than actually doing anything.
The problem as it turned out was limited information. I had a picture of the dungeon in my head/notes but I couldn’t telepathically infer that to the party, and the back and forth questions where they tried to orient themselves within my mental labyrinth ate up a lot of session time prevented us from attaining that snappy pace that every table needs to keep the players invested.
Recently though I had an epiphany about overhauling exploration in d&d, and wrote up a whole post detailing how you could build and run wilderness adventures the same way you could a heist or a murder mystery. Because I was already writing a series about dungeon design it didn’t take long for me to realize that this exploration overhaul was 100% applicable, and could solve a lot of the delay and confusion my players usually faced on their next trip underground. Spoilers: it worked amazingly.
The key to this overhaul was giving my players enough information to see the dungeon as a sort of abstract checklist, and then giving them the power to investigate and check things off that list in whatever order they wished, when they enter a new level of the dungeon they get a new checklist to fill out which still keeps that sense of exploration. Folk love checking things off lists, and I as a dungeonmaster love it when players engage with the content I’ve spent so much energy creating even if it’s only poking their head in the door to realize they want to run away as fast as possible. Likewise, designing the dungeon this way let me tackle much larger concepts without having to sweat the details of filling up every little room as I would have to in map-centric design.
To summarize my exploration mechanic as It applies to dungeons:
During Design: After you’ve got the dungeons’ major concept, you divide it into unique “zones” (essentially what might be levels in a regular dungeon) with an interconnected theme, mechanic, or threat.
Each zone has a number of points of interest, which can be anything from trails to follow, odd sights they might investigate, to full complexes of rooms that you’ve mapped out. You don’t need to map out the points of interest otherwise, they sort of float abstractly within the zone
When players enter a zone, they become aware of its name and general descriptor, as well as how many total points of interest are in that zone. They also become aware of some points of interest immediately to serve as landmarks and give them a direction for their exploration, but most remain undiscovered until they venture off the path and start checking out their surroundings. Hidden among these points of interest are the doors that lead to zones deeper within the dungeon, encouraging the party to explore in order to progress.
During Play: When the players enter the dungeon, one player is appointed as the surveyor, who’s job it is to keep track of the zones, fill out that checklist, and check things off when the DM tells them that they’ve fully explored a point of interest.
Rather than needing to be aware of the exact room layout, the party just need to know what zone they’re in and what options are available to them, Because this information is delivered in the form of a checklist with empty spaces, the party know exactly how much of the dungeon they’ve explored, what’s left to explore, and when they’ve cleared out an area.
Lets take the image above as inspiration. Say the party is trying to make it up to the tower, you can easily see a progression of zones and maybe imagine a few to go alongside them:
Ruins & Foothills: The first area, filled with the remnants of an ancient civilization. Picked over by looters and now a home to all sorts of wildlife,
Mountainside: The obvious next goal, but locked off behind a challenging climb, Filled with hazards that threaten to knock the party back down to the foothills if they’re not careful
Caverns: Secret area accessible only if the party explore a cave on the mountainside, or make a beeline towards the old aqueduct landmark in the foothills, realizing it might be easier than the climb.
Spire Foundations: The door connecting to the foothills is guarded by a complex puzzle and arcane ward, but the party might be able to sneak in through the caves where erosion has caused a breakthrough into the cellars.
Spire Peak: High among the clouds, the party’s prize is somewhere here. Access to the upper sections of the tower are guarded by a territorial sphinx under arcane compulsion, though the party might just be able to skip that fight if they figure out the riddle to make the portal mirrors work in the foundations.
Trying to design all this by pencilling it in on a gridmap would take weeks, to say nothing of the headache it’d cause you trying to make things fit together and fill up empty space with content. Designing it first as a sequence of zones and then filling those out with interesting fights, puzzles, and encounters is the work of an afternoon or two. Likewise, its easy on your players: five zones with six to ten points of interest is far easier to tackle when you can make a checklist and see how much progress you’ve made, despite the fact that the area they’re exploring is quite vast.
I hope you find this as useful as I have, and if you need a more concrete example of how it might work, don’t worry, I’ll have one of those for you in the coming days.
#dungeon design#dnd#dungeons and dragons#d&d#5e#dm advice#dm tip#dm tips#dm tools#writing advice#pathfinder#ttrpg#homebrew#5e homebrew#homebrew mechanic#exploration
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Im trying to take note of real world influences in XIV for some projects going forward, like languages used in areas (French names in Ishgard, Roman terms in Garlemald) or like in aesthetics I suppose (like Radz-at-han in particular reminds me of Istanbul), and I'd like to hear others' thoughts about those kinds of influences that they've noticed
(little more context on things im working on under the cut)
right now this has a lot to do with things like stamps lmao I have in fact gotten kinda into stamp collecting now and I'd like to design some for XIV areas based on similar irl counterpart countries? like regular stamps and stuff like a sort of Garlean version of US postal war savings stamps? so having irl countries to reference for stamp styles would be helpful to like figure that stuff out
and honestly all of this is just part of making a physical copy of Q'ihnn's journal more complicated than it needs to be but never let it be said that I dont have a love of unnecessarily dense world building
plus by having a list of reference countries I can also build out other kinds of like, souvenirs? in the journal from the places visited across msq - a lot of things I see people keep in journals, especially travel ones, are stuff like wrappers or other packaging, pieces of maps, receipts (that's its own rabbit hole ive gone down), ticket stubs, and other various little paper things along with photos and drawings (which are much easier to manage in comparison)
cause a lot of this shit doesnt extensively exist within the game often beyond a mention in a stray line of dialogue or two so there's advantages to having irl cultural and historical reference to make something that feels real - plus im often off in lala fantasy land in my head because im stuck at home a lot, im not exactly well traveled, so im sure its easy for me to miss especially like language use in certain areas (I didnt even notice how French Ishgardian names were until someone else made a joke about it, it just doesnt occur to me)
like some of these influences are fairly obvious, right, like Doma and Kugane being Japanese inspired and Greek influence around Sharlayan (which the Greek/Roman dichotomy that Sharlayan and Garlemald have going on is its own whole thing I could go into btw they're so similar yet different in such interesting ways) - but places like Ul'dah?? not a clue. Ala Mhigo? no idea. The Crystarium and Eulmore in the first??? oh I'd put my head through a wall trying to thing of a real world counterpart for reference
granted now having said that someone is going to point out something obvious that I just entirely missed some way or another lmao but like that's why im asking, right? anyway if you have nerd ass thoughts too just hit me up
#ffxiv#ff14#most of this is rambling cause even i dont know where the fuck im going with this#not that I ever do but ya know#final fantasy xiv#final fantasy 14
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Processing Process, and More Processing
I made this post free and publicly readable on Patreon, but I'm reposting the whole thing right here too because, well, it's a free post, and I don't want to make you click away from your dashboard if you don't need to. But also if you want to support my work, here's the link to the post.
It's a little bit about cartooning, a little bit about drawing, and then it turns into a eulogy for a chicken.
I wrote “process” more than once, and now the word looks funny and is beginning to lose its meaning to me.
This post is about a few things, and it’s a little bit on the sad end of things. Nothing dire! No worries. There’s just a little mention of death, just as a heads up.
Before we get to that, though, I’ve been doing some work and had some thoughts.
I’m often asked about how I draw the noodle hair on my characters, and the answer is typically that I draw each and every line with my hand. But there are considerations of movement and volume that go into it beyond its texturally decorative purposes. I love being able to convey shape and motion with it. It’s less evident, I think, in my illustration work, but I think it’s much more obvious when I do sequential work. In the above image, you can see me working out a sequence of Angelica having a series of thoughts. Her head sort of moves, and her eyes follow. You can see I’d planned out the general shape of the hair and how I’d like it to move.
I wound up moving the drawings a little bit so that the readers eyes will actually follow the character’s eyes as it moves gently rightward on the page. The hair is there to accentuate the movement, like so:
It’s a consideration I employ in all my drawings, but especially when I’m drawing hair and fabric. I don’t use a lot of action lines, so this becomes an important way to give the reader the information that someone is moving through a space. Resistance, gravity, and motion are all things I have to keep in the back of my head when I’m doing these little drawings. I think the planning actually takes more time than the inking, which can happen pretty quickly once I map it all out.
In other news, I’m starting to take my extracurricular artistic development a little more seriously in the silliest way possible.
You wouldn’t know it, but I studied painting college—a medium I switched to after the printmaking professor and head of the Art Department at the time told me I probably shouldn’t be an artist (he gave me a hard candy for my trouble). I recently bought a bunch of little dolls, dressed them up, and am returning to my painting roots. It feels really nice to work in big blobs of color instead of lines. It’s an exercise I came up with in response to a common lament from art students.
One of the more aggravating generational tensions described to me by art school students is when professors describe a student’s portfolio as “too anime” without much explanation. I know what the professor means. They’re trying to get at how referencing your favorite anime or cartoons means that your style becomes a simulacrum, an imperfect copy of a copy, and you never learn to develop your own sense of judgment about where a line or a shape needs to go. And we can tell. It’s a way of working that is perfectly fine for cartooning because cartooning is closer to hand-writing than it is to drawing. I always turn to Charles Schulz’s work for an example. Those figures aren’t literally depicting children—with their little chessboard-pawn proportions and bread-loaf feet—but we read them as endearing children because we’ve come to a consensus between us, the readers, and Charles Schulz, the author, that those shapes mean those things. There are no whiskers or paws in the shape of the word “CAT” but you look at those three letters together, and you know the thing to which it refers. That’s an aspect of cartooning, too. Of course, what elevates it from mere writing is, in part, due to the fact that those little figures do not lose their meaning the more you depict them.
To really draw well, though, you have to do those fundamentals. You have to draw from life. There’s no way around it. It helps you develop a stronger sense of where you like to lay down your lines and shapes, no matter how stylized you like to work. It grows your judgment, and every artist’s best tool is their own well-honed sense of artistic discernment about their own work.
But that doesn’t mean you have to surrender the stuff you like or the things that inspire you to make art! I tell students that if they want to hold fast to their anime style AND hone their fundamentals to develop their eye as an artist, they should buy little figurines and toys of their favorite characters, prop those up against a light source, and draw them as still life objects. Like, yes, do the vases and the figure drawings and all those, I still think those are important. But if this is what you need to keep you interested in drawing from life, having some toys around is a great way to do it! Also, bless those sculptors and toy designers. They’re the best.
I think there’s something to be said about remembering to imagine the physicality of the things we draw, in all its dimensions and in the way it catches the light or casts a shadow. It helps sentimentalize things, too. Makes them feel more real, even emotionally.
Edwina died on Tuesday night, after a few final snuggles, surrounded by her favorite treats. She was about five years old, which is old for a chicken, and she had a very comfortable life. We buried her this morning. She was a good hen, J’s personal favorite.
It really feels like the end of an era. She was the last surviving member of our very first flock. After the other hens died, she really seemed to prefer the company of people over other hens. She is survived by Snooki and Nelly, our two other young birds who get along quite well together, actually.
A baby chick costs between three and five American dollars, typically. An egg-laying hen could be between twenty and fifty bucks, depending on the breed. There are roughly 26 billion chickens living in the world today, about 518 million of them here in the United States. They come pretty cheap. And a part of me was moved to cynicism, entertaining the thought that it might be strange to feel sadly over a little animal that, at most, might be roughly equivalent to the price of a fancy lunch and a coffee.
I watched the 1974 musical version of The Little Prince recently, and I remember it mostly because Bob Fosse was in it and scared the crap out of me as a kid—he played the snake that would take the Little Prince back into the sky when his body gets too heavy to take with him. Gene Wilder plays the Fox whom the Little Prince befriends and tames among a garden of roses. The Fox explains that he is like any other fox in the world, but he is changed—made special and particular to the Little Prince—with time, effort, and patience. So, too, is the Prince’s little flower special to him. Out of all the flowers in the universe, she was the one he watered and protected under a little glass jar. And that’s enough.
I knew my little hen would not live that long. It could be very easy to take a broad view of the life expectancy of a hen and distance myself from it by virtue of its mortality and its commonness. People who raise livestock do it all the time. But I also think it’s wonderful that we should all be capable of loving very small, very brief little things. Edwina is not, to my mind, the rough equivalent of a fancy lunch and a coffee. She was our little hen. For her whole life, she was ours. And I’m so happy she was here.
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Ficlet: O that I were a glove upon that hand
Dreamling || Human AU || Rated E || ~1100 words
(Because Tom doing Romeo at VogueWorld 2023 gave me some feelings and Ferdie is often in his Venice Preserv'd look in my head... although with longer hair.)
This has, perhaps, gone too far.
Let's back up.
Everyone in the department, most people on campus, and – because of a viral video of him going off at the director during a dress rehearsal of a Shakespeare in the Park performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream – a damned large swath of London all know of Dr. Robert Gadling's particular and peculiar hate of the Bard. It is what makes this whole thing incredibly frustrating.
Gifts. Hob has been getting gifts. Left for him in conspicuous places, each more finely crafted and expensive than the last. And each with a goddamned Shakespearean love sonnet on it.
If it wasn't for the nature of the gifts themselves Hob would be absolutely certain someone was taking the piss. (Jo, that would probably be Jo.)
But each gift is so bloody thoughtful; carefully chosen with an uncannily tuned awareness to Hob’s personal needs and tastes. This person either really cares for him or… well, he would think the person a possible stalker except that everything they have done relates to something that has happened in public, with full easy access for many people to make a judgment that Hob likes or needs something.
There have been six of them now. And aside from the fact that Hob’s living room wall now looks like all those movies where the authorities are frantically tracking a serial killer, complete with a map of London and lots of red sharpie, he is rather… flattered?
It has been a long time since… well. The anniversary of Eleanor's death will be rounding on eight years this winter.
Hob thinks he has worked out a pattern to when he gets the gifts, is like 80% confident he can guess when they have gotten placed in each location, from his university office, to the men’s dressing room at the White Horse Community Theater, to his usual table at the New Inn. Add to that his approximately 60% confidence in the reasoning behind the temporal spacing of the gifts, and he is ready to roll the dice.
He locks up his office a tick early, as usual on Thursdays, and makes all appearances to head home before going to that evening’s rehearsal. But as soon as he gets home he is donning a new hoodie no one has seen him wear before, slinking back out the garden door, over the hedge, and jogging to the theater. Hob closes himself into the darkness of the men’s dressing room a solid two hours before anyone is scheduled to be anywhere near the place.
And he waits.
Hob is good at waiting.
He is crouched where he will be behind the door when it opens, but this puts him immediately next to some of the accessories storage for costuming for this show. And oh, they have gotten in a new pair of leather gloves for him.
Just because he is good at waiting doesn’t mean that he never gets bored.
Hob slips on the new gloves and works his hands in them. These will be perfect to swordfight in, fantastic.
And then the door creaks open.
He freezes and watches, only the sliver of light coming from the hallway to help him. A masculine figure, slim, in a peacoat, walks silent as a hunting cat to the second chair from the far wall, just where Hob usually gets ready.
A hand runs softly across the back of the chair once before a small box is left on the tabletop. Then as quietly as they came in, the person turns to leave.
Just before they get to the open door Hob pounces.
There is a shout and a scuffle, the two men – for it is another man, of that Hob has no doubt – grappling as one tries to escape and the other hold on.
Which is how Hob ends up with his black leather-gloved hands wrapped around the pale swan neck of his longest friend.
They haven’t seen each other in… fuck, it feels like more than a hundred years. And they had not parted on good terms.
“Christ, Dream?” Hob pants out the nickname but does not let go.
Diamond-sharp blue eyes that could belong only to one person stare at him from beneath heavy lids. He parts his lips to speak, but at the same time Hob shifts the grip of his hands and any words Dream was going to say get lost in a breathtakingly thready moan.
Barely a heartbeat later they meet in the middle, Hob’s hands going to the back of Dream’s head and Dream’s arms going around his shoulders and their mouths fit together like goddamned puzzle pieces and Hob knew, he fucking knew, it would be like this.
They knock over no less than two chairs, collapse against a wall for a minute, then one of them pushes off and they are almost going ass over tea kettle onto the couch. A bit of quick footwork on Hob’s part and they are on the opposite side of the room.
By the time Hob has Dream sitting on the vanity they have gotten their shirts off and his bare back slams into the mirror’s surface, sliding and squeaking with the thin sheen of sweat. He gets his hands under Dream’s thighs, hikes him up to grind their clothed erections together, and once Dream has his legs wrapped around Hob’s hips he brings one hand to his mouth to pull off the gloves.
An unsteady hand grabs his wrist. “Leave them on.” Dream’s voice is even lower than Hob remembers it.
There is fumbling to get flies open and then Hob has his hand wrapped around both their cocks and is pumping. Dream’s fingers are now tugging on Hob’s hair, his body arching prettily as Hob gets his lips and tongue onto that beautiful neck.
Hob is about to be embarrassed by how quickly he is nearing completion when Dream pulls him into a kiss, moaning into his mouth as he shudders through his orgasm.
“Come with me, Hob,” is whispered against his lips and Hob is absolutely lost to it, shouting into Dream’s collarbone.
They are still panting, large heaving breaths, when Dream tugs Hob’s hand up from where it is wrapped around their spent pricks so that he can lick the leather clean. Hob watches that pink tongue dance between his fingers and his cock almost twitches in interest. He huffs a laugh and takes Dream’s chin in his grip, pulls their mouths back together so that he can speak against them.
“Hello, Stranger.”
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I’m so stuck in my fantasy novel. My protagonists need to do some sneaking and researching and such to figure out what the antagonist is up to, but I feel like I can’t make it interesting. It’s supposed to be mysterious, but the antagonist is also smart and isn’t just leaving clues in the street. They’ve also been framed for some crimes because he knows they’re coming after him, so they can’t just go ask anybody on the street for help either. But I’m so stuck.
Adding Interest to Fantasy Investigation
Well... in any mystery, no one is "just leaving clues in the street," you know? The whole point of clues is they're subtle hints of an event that were inadvertently left behind.
So, where you can start is with your antagonist's goal and plan... what are they trying to accomplish and how? In other words, when you say your characters are trying to figure out "what the antagonist is up to,' what *are* they up to? And what are they doing in an attempt to accomplish that?
Look at each of the steps the antagonist has to complete in order to accomplish their goal and break those steps into smaller steps. Look at every facet of each step and think about ways clues might be inadvertently dropped. So, for example, let's say you have an antagonist whose goal is to get the current king dethroned and replaced by a heroic-looking usurper who is in fact their puppet, and one of the steps they need to accomplish is throwing a battle which, when lost, will cause the people to lose faith in their king. And lets say one of the steps in throwing said battle is leaking information to the enemy that allows them to ambush a supply caravan that was headed to the king's army. And lets say he accomplishes this leak by paying a peasant boy to sneak into the enemy's camp and deliver the information.
What are some clues that could inadvertently be left behind for the investigating protagonists to find? Well, for one thing, there could be a witness that saw one of the antagonist's associates coming out of a mill where he wouldn't normally have been. And maybe, upon closer investigation, the protagonists discover that one of the miller's sons was seen talking to this man and then disappeared for two days. Maybe they talk to the boy and he claims the man simply asked for directions, and explains his time missing by saying he got lost in the forest. But... further investigation reveals that one of the boy's playmates saw him in the town square, where he climbed into the wagon of a man who fits the description of the antagonist's associate. And maybe the protagonists are able to trace the journey of said wagon through a few witness reports, and find that the boy climbed out of the wagon and followed a particular path into the forest. Looking on a map, they see that this path leads due east into the enemy camp. These are not clues what were intentionally or even clumsily left by the antagonist, but rather little elements that, when looked at closely, became hints as to the bigger picture.
Ultimately, that's what you're going for here... and see how much more interesting that is? Because now there's interest in the process... finding out the associate was in the village, at the mill, and seen talking to a boy. Finding out the boy went missing temporarily. Tracing the wagon's path and they boy's path into the forest... There are many opportunities to create mystery and tension with the investigation.
I hope that helps!
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this is so tropey and cliché yet I cannot help but adore it sooo a calm chill peace n love pacifist type of gal who only uses computer skills/detective skills/whatnot for the titans but never violence. that is until some asshat takes jason hostage and reader to the sheer shock of everyone goes deathstroke level violent, demolishes everything, sneaks out alone to single handedly rescue jason whilst the titans are still tryna figure out a plan, and jason wakes up back in titans tower to find out that it wasn't a team effort to get him back, that reader did it all alone and killed the people who took him, jason is maybe a lil shit and is all thanks but I had the situation under control, and then he asks why she cares so much and she's like I don't but if they killed you I would kill everyone in this room and then myself 😊 👉👈
Jason Todd x Fem!Reader
Note: I'M SO SORRY IT'S TAKING SO LONG TO GET THIS OUT, BABES!!! I'M IN MY FINAL YEAR OF SCHOOL, AND I HAVE EXAMS LIKE EVERY WEEK REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE THIS CRIES. ALSO, the first part of this fic is kinda based on Jason and Gar's little moment before they go down to the subways.
"What are you doing now, nerd?" Jason walks into the computer room where yoh sat in front of the downgraded version of the Bat Computer. He leans against the edge, budging your leg with his to get your attention.
"That name is hypocritical, theatre nerd," you bite back.
"Holy shit, they're thespians, not theatre nerds."
"Same difference. Anyways, if you must know, Arkham Asylum's system broke down. Dick asked me to help them fix it. It's fine now, but a bunch of crims broke out. Some are back in, but a few handfuls are still out there. No one above Riddler level. We'll be fine," you say, leaning back on the chair, hands resting behind your head.
"Need any help, babe?" He asks.
You'd be a pathological liar if you said all the nicknames he gave you didn't make your face heat up. You always liked Jason. He has the smart potential that everybody else seems to refuse to see. But you appreciate it.
You shrug. "I dunno. You can if you want, I'm just trying to find where these criminals would be next. But it just looks like they're breaking in and stealing shit from wherever. They pick one building and then move on to a whole different area," you frown, unable to find a pattern.
Jason squints at the big screen. "Hey, zoom into that street over there," he points to the corner of the city's map. You furrow your brows, but oblige. "They're not targeting random buildings, sweet thing," he mutters.
"What? What do you mean?"
"Look. See those buildings there? They already have past records of breaking and entering, and robbery. These Arkham crims are targeting untouched places." Jason says, observing the area.
You then go on your own computer, searching the history of crime through Gotham. Sure, the majority of residents were witnesses or victims to these crimes, but there's still places that have been safe for a good while.
"Hey, all these buildings. I know them." He adds. "Bruce enforced higher security. They're aiming for Wayne Enterprise sponsored buildings!"
"How did I miss that?" You whisper to yourself. "Fuck, Jason, your a bloody genius." You missed the whiplash he got, looking at you in awe for such a simple compliment. "Alright, let me just go mark these locations and I'll go and let Dick know."
"Woah, woah," Jason holds your shoulder. "He doesn't need to know. He's already so busy. I'll handle them. You said it yourself, 'we'll be fine'." He says proudly.
You sighed. "Jay, I know you'd be fine. What's not fine is knowing for a fact that you'd show no mercy and probably make all of them bite the curb." You crossed your arms, folding one leg over your other.
"Ugh, c'mon, Y/n. I promise I won't, and I promise I'll be safe. Dick and the other guys need to know that I can do shit on my own!" He starts to beg. You always knew how important Robin is to him. You were actually impressed about how passionate he was to a mask.
You sighed again, staring at the floor while thinking. "Fine. But you need to be wired. At least be in contact with me. The moment you get into trouble, you call me, I'll get the others to help."
"Why don't you just come out with me? I know you git them badass combat skills?" Then, Jason gives you those eyes for when he asks you for something, and shamefully, you always give in. Not this time.
"Jay, you know why. Even just giving someone a oetty slap just doesn't do it for me."
"Yeah, yeah I know. But if you're ready to throw a punch, make sure I'm there to see," Jason winks as he's about to leave to suit up. But you call out to him.
"Jason." He turns. "You don't need to prove yourself to anyone. Not to me at least," you gave him a sympathetic look. Jason just gives a slight nod in return before turning again and leaving to get ready.
"You sent Jason out there?!" Dick storms into your room without knocking.
You were sat on your bed, holding your hands up. "Woah, man, I could've been changing or something," you say nonchalantly. "Jason will be fine, Dick. He is capable enough of defending himself. Besides, I have him wired, so if he needs help, he can contact me." You say, eyes focused on the laptop placed on your legs.
"Okay, genius, then why did Hank inform me just now that Jason's unresponsive and that his tracker has been disconnected!" Dick yells at you. You stop typing.
"I'm sorry," you choke out a sarcastic laugh, getting off your bed, walking out of your room, Dick following suit. "What? It sounds like you're saying someone cut off all connections that Jason has to us," you said, hoping that you heard wrong or that it was some lame, insensitve prank. You walk into the debriefing room, where the other Titans were. And to prove what Dick said was true, the screens showed that there were no signs of Jason, his tracker, or his wire.
"That's exactly what I'm saying." Dick replies sternly. "Jason's gone missing, possibly kidnapped. Why didn't you tell me he was going out?! Why didn't you tell us?"
Hank chimes in. "Yeah, kid. You know how reckless Jason can be-"
You chucked your laptop to the wall, completely smashing it, the screen chipping everywhere, and the keys scattering across the floor. It instantly made the room dead silent.
You stayed silent, too. You said nothing, giving the others no explanation to your sudden, quiet outburst, and headed back to your room.
From behind you can hear Dick sigh, and preoare everyone to find Jason.
You had other plans.
You didn't know where Jason could be. But from the tracker, you can pinpoint his last known location. Not that you told Dick or even Bruce, but you managed to connect your smartwatch to Jason's tracker. No, you are not a stalker... is what you always repeated to yourself. You just wanted to be the first one to always be sure that your spontaneous friend is okay. And look at what good it's doing.
Opening your closet, deep in the back, situated your throwing knives and flame thrower.
"Come to mama," you whispered. Sure, the use of violence is more or less a disturbance to you. But these assholes have your friend hostage. And you know that if you stay with the others, they'd slow you down.
You packed a backpack with everything you think you'd need, and you climbed out your window and ran to where Jason was seen last. You didn't have a hero suit of your own, seeing as you refused to kick ass with the others. Oh, well, you thought. A face mask would do you good.
You ended up in the outskirts of the city. There was no noise, and no Jason. But there was blood. Possibly his.
Unfortunately, there were only splatters and no trails that could guide you.
"Well, aren't you a pretty little thing?" A deeo, raspy voice said behind you.
You turn around and tilted your head. "Hello. I'm lookin' for a friend. About yay high, black domino mask, Christmas coloured superhero suit with an R on the left breast of the chest plate. Goes by the name Robin. You seen him anywhere?" You politely ask.
The gruffy man hummed. "Hmm. Show me what you're made of little lady, and I might spill a secret or two," he disgustingly smirks.
You shrug. "Since you asked so nicely." Swiftly, you threw a knife at him, slicing right through his shoulder as the man howls in agony.
"YOU BITCH," he screams.
You slowly walk up to him, and right as he tries to throw a punch, you dug, slicing his leg with another one of your knives, making him tumble to the concrete.
As he lays on his back, you tower over him, your foot resting on top of the knife that was impaled through his shoulder, making him cry out in pain.
"Now you listen to me, pretty little thing," you smile, mocming him. "After this, you're going to live. Because the sight of a dead body makes me gag. But the catch is," You reach for your flamethrower from your back, pointing it to the man's crotch as he whimpers in fear. "You're gonna be walkin' around with a fried dick. So what's it gonna be? Giving me a location? Or giving yourself a grilled sausage?"
You blink twice before he yells and reveals where Jason is. "Thank you so much, sweetie," you smiled, moving the flamethrower away and your foot lifting off the knife, turning to go find your friend.
He sighs out in relief, but you then turn back around. Saying nothing else, you point the flamethrower at his face, setting it off, letting the flames char his skin.
You hide behind crates in a dimly lit, abandoned warehouse, trying to search for Jason. You then go into a different room, and upon going in, you see a figure tied up in a chair, mouth covered in a dirty rag and a blindfold over his eyes.
My poor- shit. I mean. Poor Jason. You think.
The room was empty. It's an opportunity for you to help him. You cut the ropes, take the rag, and blindfold off.
"Jay?" You whispered. "Jason, wake up, c'mon we gotta go." It was no use.
"So you're the little gal burning up faces," another rough voice says.
You stand up straight, facing the significantly larger man in front of you. "Why does everyone keep calling me that? I'm the average height," you complained, crossing your arms.
The man grunts, snapping his fingers. Then, what seemed to be a whole army of men dressed in black and white striped jumpsuits appeared from every corner, with crooked grins and nasal chuckles.
"Naw, but you'd be cut, chopped, and sliced into little pieces after we're done with you, little thing," he smiles.
"All of you against me?" You pouted. Well, that's just not fair, is it? How about a little disadvantage for you guys." You threw knives in all light sources, smashing the bulbs, now with the only source of ligbt being the moon shining out from a window or two.
You quickly whip out night vision goggles, activating them and your flamethrower ready in your hands.
You start blasting at all the men that attempt (and failed) to attack you, quickly burning their faces, hands, legs, all over their bodies.
All you could hear were the sounds of their writhing pain. You also made sure to stay close to Jason, making sure no one tried to hurt him.
Just as you were about to roast another guy, your flamethrower suddenly ran out of fuel.
"Well, shit," you muttered to yourself. "Old fashioned, it is."
You used the flamethrower itself as a combat weapon, hurling it through their guts and crotches, any of their most vulnerable areas.
The last guy to go down was the supposed leader. You smash the flamethrower into his head, probably leaving a dent, and he falls to the ground. You then take out any knives that remain, stabbing them through bith his shoulders and shins.
You took out your remaining anger and adrenaline out on him by using the flamethrower, striking it against his abdomen.
"Asshole! Perveted! Kidnapping! Ugly! Son! Of! A! Bitch!" You exclaim with every blow.
You pants, looking around the room full of unconscious men. Even the one in the cape.
You lift him up, throwing his arm over your shoulder, beginning to haul him out of the warehouse.
By the time Jason woke uo, his head was spinning, his throat was dry, and his vision was blurry. He sits uo, trying to stay still to focus his vision. He then notices that his shirt is off and his torso is bandaged. There were also many patches all over his face.
He slowly gets uo from bed, wincing at the pain. On his nightstand, he sees a glass of water, pills and a sticky note.
"Take the pill and drink all the water, theatre nerd
- Other Nerd."
Jason couldn't help but smile at the little message and consideration. He did as was told, swallowing the pill and gulping down the water.
Wanting to get into bed, he heard voices coming out of his room. He leans against his dokr, trying to listen.
"Half of those guys are in death threatening condition! The other half have permanently damaged bones! You killed a guy, Y/n! When the fuck do you even kill!" It was Dick. Who seemed pissed. Wait.
Did he just put your name and the word kill in the same sentence?
"What was I meant to do, Dick? Lock them up and wait for them to escape again? You and I both know the justice system is bullshit!" You spit back.
"That doesn't make you the judge of death, Y/n!"
"What-Fucking-Ever! Here's an idea! Maybe if you had just a little faith in Jason, he wouldn't feel the need to go out there! He was just trying to help! You're his older brother. Act like it!" You bite, not wanting to hear another word coming out of Dick's mouth, and stormed into Jason's room.
Too bad you didn't know he was leaning on the other side of the door.
He grunts heavily, and you shove the door against him.
"Shit! Jay, what the hell are you doing out of bed!" You scold him, taking him by the arm and leading him back to bed.
"Hello to you too, nerd," he mumbles, lying back down.
"You just wake up? How you feelin'?" Your hand rests against his face.
"I'm fine. What happened?" He replies groggily.
You sighed, sitting on the floor, resting your chin on the edge of the bed. "You got kidnapped. Your tracker and wire went offline."
"So what were you and Dick arguing about?" His brows knit together.
Your head tilted so that you were leaning on your cheek.
"Just tell me, nerd," he scoffed.
"Went to save you on my own. Killed a guy," you shamefully admitted.
He smiled in disbelief. "I thought I was fuckin' hallucinating. Fuck, wished I was conscious to see you in action. You didn't even need to get me, nerd. I had everything under control." He scoffs at the end.
"Mm.. Okay, Mr. black eye and stabbed stomach," you reply tiredly, while poking his nose.
Jason sighs and stares at the ceiling. "Thanks." He mutters.You smile.
"Hm? What was that?" You tease.
"I'm not saying it again. You know what I said."
"Yeah, yeah. I know." You admire the side of his face.
"Why? Why go through all that, Y/n? You haven't even punched a person in who knows how long. And suddenly you put people in the hospital and kill someone? I don't understand," Jason suddenly says, turning to face you.
You look back at him. "They took you."
He shook his head, unsatisfied. "No. That's bullshit. Gar and Conner got kidnapped once. You didn't kill people then."
You looked away. "They aren't you." You mumble.
"So what? What the hell's so special about me, Y/n? Why do you care so much?" Jason was confused. He wanted answers as to why someone could care so much for him. He wanted to know why someone who doesn't believe in violence would kill for him when even his own family couldn't.
"I don't," you tried to excuse yourself. "But if they killed you, I would've killed everyone, and the Titans, and then myself," you casually say, still avoiding his gaze.
Jason couldn't help but snicker. "Sounds very caring to me, nerd," he lowly says.
You hum. "Mm, whatever."
He then dramatically sighs. "You know what, sweetheart. It's pretty cold up here. And I assume the floor isn't as comfortable as the bed," there's a look of both want and need in his eyes.
You smile. "What? Wamt a blankie?" You teased.
"Fuck, just come up here," he scoffed, rolling his eyes.
You said nothing else. Just quickly obliged, going around to the other side of the bed, lying beside him.
"You're too far," he complains.
"I'm gonna mess up your bandages," you pout.
"You're so stubborn," Jason says, using his gokd arm to pull you closer, making your head lay on his chest.
"You're one to talk," you snap, though nestling your head into his warmth.
He just hums in response, letting his lips linger on the crown of your head.
I'M SORRY AGAIN, ANON. this is probably lame... and I didn't know how to end it
cries 🥲
#mickeysideas#jason todd#jason todd x reader#red hood#jason todd is my life#red hood x reader#titans jason todd#i love jason todd#dc titans#jason todd titans#jason todd headcanon#jason todd angst#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x you#jason todd x f!reader#jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd fluff#jason todd ff#jason todd fanfic#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd fic#red hood x female reader#red hood x fem!reader#red hood fanfic#red hood fluff#red hood fic#red hood fanfiction#red hood angst#hc red hood#red hood hc
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The Art of Stealth
masterlist
summary: jason doesn’t seem to understand the art of sneaking into your dorm room quietly
pairing: jason teague x female reader
rating: R for language
word count: 0.9k
warnings: none really, language, bed sharing, jason being adorable, tooth rotting fluff
timeline: set before the show, so no real spoilers
author’s note: i looove this character so much and i really wish he was in more than 20 episodes :,,)
You and Jason started dating when you were Sophomores in High School. You were there for him each football game to cheer from the bleachers, and when he got accepted to Metropolis University you were both overjoyed. When you also got accepted, Jason was that much more excited about going to college.
Suddenly all the trips back to Smallville he’d been mapping out had no need to be taken and he could simply see you on campus.
Jason was part of a fraternity with his teammates, but you hadn’t joined a sorority. So, Jason would sneak into your dorm room. However, he wasn’t very good at the actual sneaking part.
**
A loud crash woke you up and you grabbed the baseball bat from under your bed. You were ready to whack the shadowy figure that had climbed through your window when you heard his voice.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Jason groaned. “God, you need to put some pillows under the window or something.”
“Jason? What the hell are you doing?”
“Visiting my girlfriend? So we can sleep in the same bed?” He stood up, a smile on his face. “What? It’s Saturday, everyone’s sleeping in and no one will notice I’m in here!”
“You’re adorable, but if you get caught in the girl’s wing you could get expelled!”
“You kidding? Who could expel this adorable face?” He was still smiling as you turned on your light and tossed the bat onto your bed.
“How do you look so cute right now? You just fell into my room!” you laughed a little.
“Awe you love me, don’t you?”
“I really do.” You got on your tiptoes and wrapped your arms around his neck, planting a kiss on his full lips. “So much.”
**
You were studying for an upcoming test when you heard a rushed knock at your door. You slowly got up from your chair and walked to the door, the knock continuing up until you opened the door.
“Oh my god, Jason!” you gasped and pulled him into the room quickly. “What the hell?”
“What?” he asked, furrowing his brows and smiling.
“It’s after nine and a weekday! You can’t be here! Did anyone see you? God damn it, Jason if I have to bribe the girl across the hall again I-” He cut you off by grabbing your face and kissing you. “Alright, you’re forgiven.”
“I think I’m getting better at this whole sneaking around thing, though,” he said, walking over to your bed and sitting down. “I’m like ninety-five percent sure no one saw me.” He leaned back and grinned before someone knocked on the door. You motioned for Jason to hide, so he rolled onto the floor.
You opened the door and were met with your smiling neighbor, “Hey Casey, wha- what’re you doing here?”
“I saw Jason come in here, Y/n,” she said flatly. She held out her hand with a smile. “C’mon, girl’s gotta eat!”
“This is so unfair! I see your girlfriend going into your room every night!” you said. You went to your dresser to grab five dollars.
“The perks of being a lesbian, Y/n!” Casey smirked when you handed her the money. “You should try it sometime.” You closed the door.
“Jason, you can come back out,” you told him before he slid out from under the bed.
“You know you’ve got like ten pairs of panties under here?” He smiled up at you from the carpet. You rolled your eyes and held out your hand which he took and used to heave himself off the floor. “Love you,” he said and kissed you.
“Next time I’m sneaking into your place,” you mumbled.
“Ooh no!” He shook his head. “House full of horny guys that might combust if they see you in your tiny pj’s? No thanks, sweetheart.”
“Well then, just slide five dollars under Casey’s door before knocking on mine tomorrow, okay?” you laughed.
**
“Good morning,” you mumbled, snuggling into Jason’s chest. Your eyes suddenly flew open. “Oh my god!”
“Shit,” Jason sighed.
“Shit is right! Hurry up and climb out the window!” you exclaimed, pulling the covers off of him and standing up. “I am not getting expelled just because you haven’t grasped the art of sneaking in and out of my bedroom!”
“Wouldn’t it be smarter to just act like I came here early in the morning?” he asked. He stood up and put his pants on from the night before. “If anyone asks, you can say you had to help me study?”
“Yeah, that makes sense.” You nodded a little, looking into his bright green eyes. You then shook your head, “Wait, no it doesn’t! Stop giving me that look that makes me do anything for you and just hurry out of here before someone sees you!”
He grinned, “You really are a sucker for this smile, aren’t you?”
“I really, really am so please get out of this room before I fold and jump back into bed with you!”
“I love you,” he said before he kissed you. He then put his shirt on, kissed you again, and climbed out the window. “See you in class, my love!” He peeked his head into your room and you kissed him one last time before he left for good and you closed the window.
“My love?” You scrunched up your face a little. “Who talks like that?” You laughed lightly then groaned to yourself, “god damn it, I love him so much!”
#smallville x reader#smallville fic#smallville#jason teague x reader#jason teague#jackles character#by mind empty just fictional people#by jean
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