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greenglowinspooks · 5 months

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Gävle Goat v.s. two drunk half-ghosts (DCxDP)

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Tw: alcohol consumption (no way), one(1) mention of sex

Summary: Jason and Danny accidentally burn down the Gävle goat. You all voted for this, and I delivered. Merry crisis, tis the season and all that.

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Jason wove through the ever-shifting crowd, an irritated scowl on his face.

Kori and Roy had dragged him here to celebrate a successful mission together, but the two had wandered off together not thirty minutes after they arrived, effectively stranding him in an unfamiliar club in Europe.

Now, his only two options seemed to be stealing someone’s car and getting back to their temporary safehouse himself, or waiting for the two to come back for him.

Still, considering the lecture he’d get from Dick if he hotwired a random guy’s car just because he didn’t want to wait for his friends, option one wasn’t much of an option at all.

It was humiliating. He was a crime lord, not a little kid who’d lost their mom in the store.

Jason sighed, slumping against the wall as he watched the drunken crowd swirl together.

He had never really felt at home in places like this, especially not since his resurrection. It always felt like people were staring at him, like they just intrinsically knew that he was other.

Jason startled when he felt someone tap on his shoulder.

“Sorry!” The stranger said, “I just, um, are you okay?”

Jason blinked. The person talking to him was clearly somewhat tipsy, wearing a blush on his face and a slightly loopy smile. How had he possibly snuck up on him? Was he really that deep in thought?

“My asshole friends ditched me, and now I’m stuck here,” Jason blurted out without thinking. The stranger barked out a laugh, clearly surprised.

“That sucks,” he said, leaning on the wall next to Jason. He hummed in response.

The stranger looked back at the open bar, where quite a few people were frantically miming to him. He motioned back to them, clearly hoping for them to stop, before just flipping them off. Jason chuckled at that.

“Those your friends?”

The stranger blushed brighter, the tips of his ears going red.

“Uh, yeah. We’re here to celebrate some legal stuff that I finally got done with, but, uh, they wanted me to go talk to you.”

Jason hummed again, giving the stranger a quick once-over. He was actually pretty cute; he had messy black hair, icy eyes, and an outfit that screamed “I’ve never been in a club before but my friends dragged me here anyways”.

If he was gonna be waiting for Kori and Roy anyways, why not have some fun?

“Well, I am technically here alone, now that my friends wandered off,” he said, looking at the stranger meaningfully.

The stranger grinned brightly, holding a hand out to him.

“Then, d’you wanna hang out with my friends and I? I promise we’re lot of fun! I’m Danny, by the way.”

Jason took his hand, the beginnings of a smile on his face.

“Call me Jason,” he said, following along as the (surprisingly strong) man dragged him over to his friends.

Danny was having the time of his life.

The restraining order on Vlad had finally been granted. The abolition of the Infinite Realms’ monarchy had gone through. And, on top of all that, he was on the most incredible club-hopping adventure of his un-life.

And sure, it might not have been the best idea to give ghost alcohol to Jason, the mortal his group had picked up in Germany, but he was taking it like a champ!

He hadn’t thrown up yet, in any case, so clearly it wasn’t that much of an issue.

Danny giggled, leaning up against Jason as they walked along the street, his ghostly friends filling the street.

As the night went along and they all got more and more tipsy, they’d mostly let go of their mortal forms. Despite being surrounded by a bunch of ghosts with death-blows clearly exposed and mythological creatures, Jason didn’t seem to be too bothered. He had an arm wrapped around Danny’s shoulders and was singing along with some of the ghosts in Arabic(?), his lovely baritone voice echoing out amongst the dead and unborn.

Danny just snuggled further into his side, enjoying the novel feeling of human warmth. He’d have to get Jason’s number after this, Danny sluggishly thinks. If he wasn’t freaked out by Danny being dead once he was sober, at least. He found that most people weren’t quite so open to cuddling up to a corpse. Even if that corpse could talk and walk around.

The streetlights around them began to spin as they once again walked into a rip in the veil. Everyone cheered as the lights warped and distorted, the sky becoming neon green and foggy.

Danny stumbled forward on unsteady legs, dragging Jason along with him. He wanted to get to the front of the group, to see where they were going before everyone else!

Jason tripped as Danny continued to drag him along, stumbling off the path and straight off the Realms island they were currently on. Danny, still clinging to him like a lifeline, fell alongside him.

A cheer from the spirits rang out above them, unaware of their mistake, fading as they fell. Before Danny had a chance to call out, though, they fell through another rip in the veil.

Jason sat up. He’d fallen face-first into a snowbank, and judging by the pair of legs sticking out of the snow, Danny had a similar fate. He dragged Danny out of the snow by the feet, tumbling over nothing and falling over in a heap.

Danny rolled over, laying down in the snow next to him with both arms around his waist.

Jason just looked up at the sky in awe.

It was most certainly the alcohol, or maybe the lack of pollution, but the sky looked so much more beautiful than usual.

There were so many stars in his blurry vision, and each one twinkled and shone and spun like they were dancing.

With a tremendous amount of effort, he got to his feet, dragging Danny up with him.

He twirled the man in his arms, his legs unsteady as he tried to waltz. Danny giggled, trying to match his uneven steps.

The arctic wind blew over them, carrying with it the snow and ice of the ages. The wind curled around them, spinning in circles around the pair as they danced. Sprites of fire glimmered in the corners of Jason’s vision, glimmering cheerfully. It seemed that something had caught alight, but nothing was going to distract him from the man in front of him, grinning widely with a blush that covered his entire face.

Jason fell over again, collapsing in the snow, and Danny fell over on top of him.

Light shimmered down from the snow-covered trees, falling onto Danny’s face. He scrunched his eyes closed, groaning in agony.

He was so, so hungover.

Served him right for agreeing to go out partying with Johnny of all people.

Danny’s head pounded to the beat of his heart, his core humming in rhythm. He buried his face into the fabric beneath him, trying desperately to block out the light from reaching his sensitive eyes.

Where was he, anyways?

The area around him was definitely snowy; even arctic, maybe, judging by how strongly his core was thrumming. Still, he was perfectly warm, laying on top of…

…a person?

Fuck, he was never partying with Johnny again.

Through great willpower, Danny squirmed off of the stranger and sat up, scrunching up his face as he turned away from the sun. It didn’t make his headache any better, though; the snow reflected the light almost as bright as the sun itself.

Fresh snow can have an albedo of 0.9, Danny remembered, a college lecture popping into his head. It had the highest level of albedo of anything on earth. That’s why it was bouncing the light of the sun directly into his poor sensitive eyes.

Of course Danny would wake up next to a strange man and the first thing that he thought of was science facts.

The man next to him groaned, immediately bringing his arm up to block the sun.

“What the fuck did I do last night?”

“I know, right?”

The man went abruptly still. It took all of Danny’s willpower not to laugh.

“…Do I still have my kidneys at least?”

Now Danny did burst out laughing, bright and cheery. And then he groaned and clutched his head.

“Oh gods my head hurts,” Danny hissed, “does this happen every time you drink?”

“Not unless you hate your liver.”

Danny laughed, and they both fell into silence for a few moments. It wasn’t comfortable silence by any means, though; it was unbearably tense and uncomfortable. Danny almost wished he could die on command, if only to get out of this.

“…Wanna go get breakfast?”

“Fuck yes,” Danny said, getting to his feet before helping the other man up. “Your treat?”

The other man laughed loudly.

“We’ve known each other properly for a total of five minutes, and you’re already bleeding me dry?”

“Come on, I’m a college student, it’s basically my job to ask for free food.”

The two of them sat in utter silence as they ate, watching the TV in the corner of the diner with a fascinating flavor of giddy horror.

Someone had burnt down the Gävle goat, and from the footage, it was very clearly them.

It wouldn’t be obvious to anyone else, luckily; the video had gone so staticky that it was very nearly unwatchable. But when combining the scene on the shitty box TV to Danny’s (very limited) memories of the night before, it was clear that they had done it.

“…Knew I forgot something that happened last night.”

Danny barked out a laugh at Jason’s comment, which earned him a sly grin in return.

“Better or worse than getting laid?”

“Eh,” Jason shrugged. “With most people? Better. With you? Worse.”

Danny laughed harder, wrapping a leg around Jason’s and waggling his eyebrows.

“Hey, arson isn’t the worst end to a first night out.”

Jason snorted.

“By the way, are you a meta? I just assumed, with the fire and all…”

Danny looked at him in surprise.

“Oh, I thought that was you.”

“What?”

Danny summoned a small burst of wind, twirling it around in his hands, creating tiny snowflakes.

“I can do that,” he said, gesturing to the snow, “but, like, fire? Nope.”

To Danny’s utter shock, a core in front of him pulsed in confusion, his own mirroring it.

Jason’s core. Jason was dead.

Jason looked at him, his face pale.

“Did you feel that too, or am I having a heart attack?”

Danny laughed nervously.

“As long as we don’t get arrested, I promise I’ll explain everything on the way back to Germany.”

—

Notes:

If Jason really was alive, he wouldn’t be for long after drinking ghost alcohol.

I brought up albedo because I learned something new in science class. Godbles

The wisps were Jason’s core forming and activating for the first time. That’s also what got the goat

#dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp fic #dead on main #dead on main pairing #merry crisis 😐👍 merry chrysler #it’s extra funny that I’m doing this because I don’t even like christmas

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redfoxwritesstuff · 26 days

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A Taste of Sugar (Part 1 of 2)

Alastor x reader (Hazbin Hotel)

Part 1 rated M, Part 2 rated E 18+ for adult content

TW part 1: Light jealousy, trauma related to past food insecurity, trauma recovery.

TW Part 2: Explicate smut, see part 2 for details.

Almost 4k words for part one. Ps- Fuck you Nonny, this is what you get for trying to tell me what I'll write

~<3 Love, Kit.

As you work through the trauma of your life and starving to death, you dismantle your stash of snacks for what you hope will be the final time. Snack cakes, cookies and crackers are given to everyone around you, except one resident in the hotel whom you knew wouldn't enjoy or consume the treats. Then, as the flow of treats tricked to a stop, stash dismantled, small brown boxes containing treats began to appear at your door. Simple, delicious and seemingly homemade treats without so much as a note.

He watched and he waited, each week for your offer. Each week, no offer came and again he left his gift at your door. Why would you not think of him? Why would you not see him? What did he have to do for you to consider him?

~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~~<3~~~~~<3

A Taste of Sugar

You found yourself in Hell after a rather uneventful death that made of for its lack of excitement with lasting trauma. Now, sitting in a circle in a hotel that functioned more like a rehabilitation center and refuge than actual hotel, you were expected to recount it to the fellow residents that had become more like friends.

It was Charlie’s latest grand idea of how to build trust and bonds between the group and process negative feelings that could hold each of you back from redemption. You didn’t think that was how redemption worked but whatever, it wasn’t your reputation on the line and it got you a safe room to sleep in and three meals a day.

The others had grand stories of murders, crimes and addictions that all landed them in the grave, one way or another, often taking others with them. They had spoken of dark indulgences.

Now they teased you, your crimes amounting to nothing compared to theirs. Damned for the simple crime of being born poor and attempting, rather unsuccessfully, to survive.

You had died fairly young, having lived most of your life on the streets only to starve to death, alone, cold and in the dark. The shelters were full and the food banks near useless without somewhere to cook the food. Stealing food could only get you so far when you had little to choose from. You died dreaming of a warm meal, cooked at home. You died begging to world for a simple snack cake to quiet the pain in your stomach. You died alone, cold and hungry.

The divine didn’t seem to care that you only stole what you thought you needed to survive. Really, not even that considering you starved to death. Maybe you didn’t pray enough. Maybe you didn’t go to the right church. Maybe you didn’t give away what little food you had often enough.

Explaining that felt like shining a spotlight on every way you failed. You failed in life and you failed in death. Not good enough to get into heaven and yet you were also not bad enough to have a respected place in hell. Weak, unless and fueled by fear of once again going without.

“So, that’s why you’ve always got snacks?” Angel pointed out, making you blush hard in shame. The trauma of your life hand a lasting grip around your actions even in death.

“I’m trying to be better about it,” You felt shame in how you tended to hoard snacks in your room, rarely actually doing more than a little nibbling at them. Charlie did a great job of ensuring all residents had access to three meals a day, though someone was almost always missing from one meal or another. “I know I don’t have to worry about starving here, it’s just hard.”

In the shadows of the hall, red eyes watched the group. A smile stretched in the distance as they discussed how the traumas of life leaked into the afterlife and the ways you could move past your traumas.

He couldn’t say why he was drawn to you. You were little more than a lost doe and yet you plagued his mind. He wanted to cast you out so you’ll leave his thoughts as much as he wanted to keep you as a little pet for his own amusements. There was time enough to figure out what to do about the conflicting urges. For now, he can simply watch from a distance, from the shadows.

Rosie had told him that in her expert opinion he was ‘catching feelings’ when he had lamented his inability to settle on a course of action. That aggravated him more than anything else, well almost. The utter glee at the concept was more annoying by just a touch.

He was above romantic sentiments just as he was above the carnal desires of the flesh. Rosie was mistaken, Alastor decided as he also made the decision that he would do nothing about you. There was no reason to let you plague him any longer. Simply look away, move on with his days and it would pass.

Without the desire to do anything about this strange draw to you, Alastor settled on watching you from across the room. He watched as you ate, as you threw out the occasional small package of snacks.Turns out, he wasn’t very good at looking away from you.

It didn’t escape him how you would frown, discussing your decision with Angel. You had decided you would no longer hoard snacks and oh, how proud of you the group was.

You were growing. Healing. Blooming.

If you’d talk to him, he’d tell you that very thing. Yes, he decided as you gave away snacks that he would tell you just how proud he was of you when you presented him with a part of your stash.

He watched and he waited as you gave out cakes, crackers and cookies to everyone else.

But never to him. No, it was always Angel and the other residents you shared your spoils with. Not once had you sought him out to offer him a cracker, cake or cookie. Not that he indulged in processed snacks or sweets on anything but the rarest occasion but that didn’t stop his shadow from bristling in annoyance behind him.

He wanted to be offered. To be recognized. To be thought of. To be noticed.

But he didn’t have feelings for you, he told himself. And that’s what he kept telling himself as the purging of your stash came to an end, drawer empty and flow of snacks becoming a trickle, an occasional treat purchased with the intention of sharing.

Oh, how you’d healed.

~~~~~<3

The first time it happened, you nearly stepped on it. Someone had left a simple plain cardboard box in front of your room door without so much as a note attached to it. Inside were two equally simple cookies. Nothing large, nothing fancy.

Setting them on your desk, you debated eating them or not. They looked good but when you had asked around, no one knew where they had come from.

“Guess you’ve got a secret admirer,” Angel had teased you. “If the cookies are good, you should date them.”

You didn’t know how you’d pull that off without knowing who left them though. Surely they were safe to eat, it’s not like random people came and left the hotel.

What’s the worst that could happen, if they were drugged? You were safe in your room. If they made you sick you had a private bathroom. You were already dead so what’s the harm?

The cookies were good, it turned out. You had nibbled on them over a few days, spreading out the treat. It seemed as soon as they were gone though, a new box appeared at the door. This time with a handful of crackers, some sliced cheese, fruit and sliced cured meat.

This continued for months, treats that were simple, modest and only enough to last for a few days. No matter how quickly or slowly you had consumed the gift, the night you discarded the empty box always brought a new box in the morning.

~~~~~<3

You leaned against the counter watching Alastor work. It was late and though you were not hungry, you often found yourself in the kitchen. Just being able to go down and look at the food you had access to had been helping you resist the urge to hoard food in your room when ever you felt that anxiety claw at you.

It helped too, that you had been able to look forward to the small snack boxes that showed up.

“Something on your mind, Dear?” Alastor didn’t look to you as he spoke, instead keeping his eyes on ingredients he was measuring out.

You hadn’t expected to find him in the kitchen. It was late and those who didn’t leave to party were asleep. Husk was even passed out at the bar.

“Not really,” You said after a moment.

“The food is all here,” Alastor said with a hum, “If that’s what you’re here to check.”

“Oh, No! I-”

“We’ve all got our quirks.” Alastor cut you off, pouring water into a bowl and adding yeast.

“What are you making?” You asked rather than face admitting that he was right about what you were there to do.

“Beignets,” Alastor said, mildly annoyed.

“Those are like donuts, right?” You asked, hoping that you had imagined the sound.

“Indeed, they’re similar.” Alastor kept his words curt.

“For breakfast tomorrow?”

“At this hour, it’s today.” Alastor swallowed his annoyance at the endless questions and lied, “Yes, for breakfast.”

“I’ll go, sorry for bothering you.” You stepped backward as you took the hint, smile falling from your face.

“No,” He answered too fast, bitter sigh huffing through his always present smile, “I’ll need someone to try the test one.”

“Oh.”

You sat, watching Alastor work. He mixed flour into the liquid. This was a way you had never seen Alastor before. It crossed your mind that he probably didn’t let many see him with his coat and gloves off, smile turned soft and flour dusting his dark hands.

But he was letting you.

His coat was draped over the back of the chair you sat in, brushing against your skin as you shifted positions. His gloves were folded neatly and discarded on the table. He worked with his sleeves rolled up and a tune filling the air as he alternated between humming and softly singing to himself.

It was beautiful. You were engrossed watching him work. The sound of his voice seemed to wrap around you, caressing you with warmth.

You’d never spent much time with Alastor. You knew he was a deer, like yourself but until now, you’d thought his only deer trait had been the antlers and ears atop his head. It hadn’t occurred to you that he would have a little fluffy tail to match your own.

It should have, you had fluffy ears to match his though with your longer hair, it was more obvious that they were indeed ears. You watched as his red and black tail moved with him as he put the dough in the icebox to chill.

“What now?” You asked, leaning back from him.

“We wait, my little doe,” Alastor sat front of you across the table, leaning into your space across the small table.

“For how long?” You ask, not sure what to make of spending so much time with him.

“A while,” Alastor said, “But I assure you the wait is well worth it.”

“But you don’t like sweets.”

“You know what I like?” Alastor’s dark hand, stained by blood that could never be washed away dramatically rose to rest over his heart with a flourish as he leaned forward even more. “I’m ever so flattered.”

You stuttered, not sure how to backtrack. Alastor laughed at your flustered stuttering before taking pity on you, pointing a long claw tipped finger so close to you that you swore he was going to stab you with his nail.

“You, my dear, do enjoy sweets however.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, face warm. He knew that you cared for sweets. You were tired but seeing this relaxed side of him was thrilling. That chased away most of the fatigue, driving you to stay and find someway to push the conversation along.

“I didn’t know you liked to cook,” You struggled to decide how to fill the silence.

“I’ve always found it rather enjoyable.” Alastor cocked his head to the side as he watched you. “My mother taught me.”

“That must have been nice.” You weren’t sure what to say, having never really gotten to experience the love of a mother yourself.

“It was.” Alastor watched as you leaned forward, resting your head on your arms. There was something about you that he couldn’t put down. “Did your mother not teach you to cook?”

Your ears sagged atop your head at the question, earning a raised eyebrow from the man across from you. “She didn’t teach me much of anything. I was on my own since I was fourteen.”

“Oh, Dear,” Alastor said as if he didn’t know that already, “How dreadful.”

“I never really had enough food for learning to cook to be a thing.” You shrugged your shoulders, not lifting your head as you stretched out your arm to use it as a pillow. You shifted, allowing you to face him even as you used the side of the table to lounge on.

“But you do now.” Alastor pointed out as he sat with you in a kitchen full of food.

“Full of Charlie’s and the hotel’s food.” You said, “I couldn’t risk wasting it. It’s enough that everyone shares with me what they make and,” You shake your head awkwardly against your arm, cutting off the thought.

“And?” Alastor pressed.

“Someone’s been leaving little boxes of treats at my door. I wish I knew who it was.”

“Why?” Alastor leaned back now, putting distance between the two of you, “Does the origin of a gift matter?”

“I-” Your eyes teared up as your voice strangled in your throat. You sat up, not sure why you were being so open with him.

“You~?” Alastor asked in a sing song tone as a tear slipped from your eye and ran down. His eyes followed it as it cut a path down your cheek. It was maddening to him, what you made him feel. How watching that tear captured his attention, yet he raged at the fact that it was born from pain in your heart.

“I’ve never had anyone give me treats like that.” You said, wiping the tear away much to his disappointment.

“Never? Surely a suiter gifted you treats while courting for your attention.” Oh, why did saying that raise bile in his throat?

“I’ve never-” You laugh, not sure why the idea of discussing this with Alastor made you feel uneasy. “There was never any suiters. No boys. No one.”

“I struggle to believe that.” Alastor laughed as he stood from his chair, “Come my dear, wash your hands and join me.”

You didn’t know what he wanted but Alastor was a man to be obeyed. While you were both deer, he had far more power than you could ever dream to possess. If he wanted to demand your help, you had little choice but to comply.

Sure, the hotel offered a sense of safety but if Alastor wanted to squash you like a bug, shared demonic traits or not, there was nothing that could stop him. Well, Charlie would but she was asleep.

Alastor had the counter floured and a small portion of dough out as you joined him, drying your hands. “Where’s the rest?”

“That’ll be fried up in the morning, if it passes our test.”

He pulled you in front of the counter before stepping close behind you. It was hard to ignore the overwhelming presence of him looming over your shoulder as he reached around to grab the rolling pin only to pass it to you.

“Roll it out until I say,” He directed as he covered the pin in flour only to place it in your hands.

As you worked, his hands rested on either side of you against the counter, boxing you in from behind while not touching you at all. It was hard for you to ignore how close he was.

It was like the man was taking over your mind, something you hadn’t expected considering you hadn’t given him much thought in the months before. The smell of his cologne seemed to surround, making your head light. You weren’t sure why you were reacting to him like this but it left your nerves buzzing.

Now all you could think of was the way his breath caressed over your ears, the way his hands looked without the gloves, dusted with flour, the sound of his voice as he hummed and the smell of his cologne.

“There.” Alastor said, taking the pin from you and replacing it with a dough cutter. “Squares, about the size of your fist.”

Cool air swept around you as Alastor moved away, checking the pot of oil heating on the stove. You’d only just begun to relax under his looming presence and now he was gone and damnit, you missed it.

There was just enough dough to form two squares with some left over. Alastor scooped them up before dropping them in the oil. You stood next to him, watching as the oil came to life around the dough.

“How long do we cook them?” You asked over the sound of the violently bubbling oil.

“Not long.” Alastor said from too close behind you once again as inky black shadow imps swept up the flour and crumbs, wiping down the counters.

On the counter, he set a plate with a rack over it and next to that was a sifter atop a container of powdered sugar. You were boxed in by Alastor as he rested his hands on either side of the fryer, looking over your shoulder as he once again boxed you in.

“Now.” He said softly, “Scoop them out and put them on the rack.”

You were timid, scared of being burned as you fished for the squares with the spoon made of wire.

“Hurry, hurry!” Alastor cried, voice carrying a musical note as he only made your nerves worse, “You don’t want them to burn!”

Finally, you got them out. Oil dripped off the puffed up pastries as they quickly drained the excess oil off. Alastor grabbed the sifter only to put it in your hands. He moved you as if you were a puppet, placing the sifter in your hands over the rack, steam wafting up to caress your hand. You stood still as he poured a few spoonfuls of powdered sugar into the basket.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” He teased. “You can manage to turn the handle, can’t you?”

“Yeah,” You stammered over the word, mind buzzing with the anxiety of having Alastor, the powerful, blood thirsty Radio Demon spending so much time in your immediate space. Your hands shook as you turned the small metal handle, causing the wire bar inside the sifter to spin, agitating the powdered sugar and helping it fall in a smooth, clump free shower over a square.

Alastor used his hand on your forearm to move the sifter over the other pastry when he had decided there was enough dusting on the first. You didn’t know if there was any science to how much sugar each got or if he was simply measuring with his long dead heart.

Once both were covered enough for his taste, he plucked the sifter from your fingers and set it aside.

“What now?” You asked, unsure still of what was going on.

“Now you try one.” Alastor said, plucking a square up. When you went to grab the other, he roughly shoved the rack out of your reach.

“What? Why did you do that?!” Your brow furrowed as you looked at the rack, now well out of reach before looking back at the man standing too close to you. “How can I try it if you won’t let me grab it?”

“Open.” Alastor commanded as he ripped the corner off the beignet in his hand.

“Wha-” Your question was cut off by the soft, warm, sweet taste that invaded your mouth somewhat forcefully.

It was delicious.

“Well?” Alastor asked as you swallowed the bite.

You hadn’t noticed Alastor rip off another chunk of beignet but found it pushed between your lips the moment you attempted to praise the taste. This time, instead of retreating, his thumb rested against your lower lip as you took in the bite.

His nails were long and pointed claws, not the thick claws that encased the fingertips of his gloves, but still dangerous. The sharp point of his thumbnail poked between your lips as he watched you chew for a few moments.

You were spellbound by the way he looked down at you. What exactly was happening, you had no fucking clue but the air between you and Alastor was thick with something you couldn’t begin to understand.

His touch left your lip to rip another chunk off the beignet slowly as you watched him. His dark bloodstained hands were covered in the white powdered sugar and flour, softening their appearance.

“It’s good,” You whispered as he slowly brought another bite to your lips.

This time he offered it, waiting for you to open your mouth and take what he was offering on your own, knowing full well who was offering it. Somehow, it felt like something far more than a midnight snack was being offered to you but what?

“It’s been you,” You said, not asked as Alastor presented another bite that you took willingly as soon as you spoke.

His thumb again lingered on your lips, sugar damp with oil and sticky on his skin smearing.

“Yes,” Alastor said after a pause to toss the remaining portion of the beignet on the counter and wiping the hand that had been holding it on a hand towel on the counter, cleaning it of some of the sugar. Yet his other hand didn’t leave you. His thumb remained on your lower lip, feeling every twitch and breath.

“Why?” You whispered, his thumb slipping against your lip and coming dangerously close to falling into your mouth.

“You never offered me anything of your stash,” Alastor spoke softly.

“You don’t like sweets,” You hadn’t wanted to waste his time when you had made the decision to dismantle your stash. It had been a emotionally difficult choice, one that you had made before and never stuck to for long until now. “Or junk food.”

“You ignored me.” Alastor’s thumb slipped, running along her lower lip but never leaving it. “I thought if you had better options…”

“I’d share them with you?” Your voice was coming out so soft now, Alastor’s tall ears cocked forward to better pick up your words.

“But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t share them with anyone.” You whispered. “I didn’t want to share them with anyone.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to keep them all to myself. They were too good to share. I-”

Alastor’s thumb slipped into your mouth, cutting off whatever you had been about to say. Sticky sweetness exploded across your tongue as his thumb caressed it. You could feel the point of his nail against your tongue, a hint of danger coated in sweet sugar.

Your mind was numb as you caressed the pad of his thumb, rolling the tip of your tongue under his nail softly. You were not sure what he wanted from you. The idea of overstepping Alastor’s unspoken boundaries was terrifying. This was uncharted waters. A side of Alastor you had never seen or even dared to dream of seeing.

Alastor watched you as you stood near frozen. “Under some circumstances, I enjoy a sweet.”

~~~~~<3

See part 2 for the smut.

#alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x reader smut #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x you #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor smut

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lightbluetown · 7 months

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i saw some people say ed and zheng are master strategists while stede is just some guy with ridiculous luck, but i think that's unfair. sure stede's ideas are insane, but they fit the looney tunes ass universe of ofmd perfectly. they're mostly well-thought-out, well-executed and they showcase stede's strengths and growth! so allow me to talk about them:

1- ghost of the forest - 1x02

a fuckery™ before stede even knows what a fuckery™ is! this is amateurish and stupid in every way. he's not even threatening izzy with a real dagger-- that's a letter opener. does izzy actually believe that stede has a huge crew hiding behind the bushes? doubt it! but this weird little act is enough to establish stede as a (ridiculous) pirate figure to the legendary izzy hands and to accomplish his goal of taking a hostage back

2- lighthouse - 1x04

imagine coming up with the exact same idea at the exact same time as the most brilliant tactician of the seven seas! we don't know who came up with which parts of the plan (honestly it was probably mostly ed) but this is still bloody impressive

3- stark revelations - 1x05

stede's first big success! he uses his knowledge of the aristocratic world to get a shipful of rich assholes to destroy each other, but he's also showcasing what sets him apart from them: this plan only comes to fruition because stede talks to frenchie, olu and abshir as equals. as people he can learn from, as sources of inspiration

4- duel with izzy - 1x06

this one was absolutely unhinged, but its success was far from dumb luck. only stede could think of using a brazillian cherry wood mast and ed's weird stabbing lesson to win a duel, and that's what makes this plan so undeniably stede and brilliant

5- faking his death - 1x10

i love that he just had to "die" in the most dramatic way possible. a heroic fight (tiger), a realistic accident (carriage) and the most cartoony death in the book (piano)... not only is his triple-death able to convince everyone in barbados that he's dead for good, it also allows him to have closure with his family. it's filled with stede's ridiculous unique flair, but it's designed to be a fuckery™ through and through. ed would be SO proud

6- stealing jackie's indigo dye - 2x01

quick little stealth mission. did ricky manipulate stede into trying this out? sure. did ricky also ruin it? absolutely. but it was working until then! the swede isn't part of stede's crew at this point, but his respect for stede is what gets him to cooperate and risk his relationship with his beautiful wife. also, it's thanks to his love for fine things that stede immediately recognizes the value of "blue dirt"

7- prison break - 2x03

in my eyes no scene depicts stede's growth better than this one. knocking zheng's entire crew out with tea is the most stede thing out there, and this plan uses the cherry wood mast as well! this plan relies on stede's (unrealistic) tea knowledge, overly-fancy ship and ability to coordinate his crew. what makes it breathtaking is that he secretly sets this plan into motion while actively mourning the "death" of the love of his life. he's putting his life on the line to rescue ed's "killers" because he's emotionally mature enough to look at things from their perspective and forgive them

8- inciting a mutiny - 2x06

yet another brilliant plan that could only be executed by stede. this entire episode revolves around his idea of "turning poison into positivity" and here he, well, fights poison with positivity. stede captains his pirates with respect and care (best he can) which just so happens to be the opposite of ned. he exploits this and gently gets ned's crew to turn on him. he singlehandedly saves himself and his entire crew from a notorious pirate! oh he also literally invents walking the plank right after this

9- "it's only suicide if we die" - 2x08

okay, yes, this one didn't go that well (sorry iz). but it's not like ed, zheng or anyone else had any other ideas! stede's weird suicide mission, for the most part, worked. they needed to get through british soldiers to reach their ship and they did exactly that. if only they'd remembered to check if ricky had his gun... oh well, you live and you learn

sure, ed and zheng are legends and stede is a silly newbie with wild luck. but he's also quick-witted, creative, confident and brave! he's a damn good captain and he deserves to be recognized as a good strategist!

#ofmd #our flag means death #stede bonnet #ofmd meta #i love my boy so much i will not let anyone disrespect him thank u #🏴‍☠️

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platrom · 5 months

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Satoru Gojo x Reader x Suguru Geto (ANGST), hinted Sukuna x Reader

this is a general idea I had, but if it’s received we’ll enough, I’ll write a story for it for sure

warnings: stsg love the reader less, reader becomes more muscular, reader loses her humaneness, sukuna whisks reader away

——————————————————

You never belonged in this world.

It was a claim that passed through everyone’s head at least once in their lifetime, you were aware. Whether it was said in one’s lowest or highest moments in life, it was a common, yet minuet phrase for most. There was no truth in those words for others— everyone did belong.

You, however, were certain you did not.

You didn’t fit in with your friends or coworkers. You didn’t feel in the way they did, you didn’t think like them, and you certainly didn’t act like them. Your parents never truly seemed to love you in the way other parents had loved their own— they took care of you, but held you at arm’s length.

And the same could be said for your relationship with Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto, the strongest of the sorcerer world.

You didn’t belong. They didn’t love you in the way you loved them— you were always second to the other.

You suppose you shouldn’t have expected anything else. They had always claimed to be the strongest, just the two of them.

You had only joined in when the love of theirs had long been solidified, serving as nothing more than a piece of entertainment while the other was gone.

At least, that’s what this date had told you.

It was meant to be fun, cozy, and a break away from the world of Jujitsu. The three of you were meant to go out to get some drinks, dance the night away, and go home and sleep until the morning birds chirped and the three of you spent a lazy day in bed.

They had long forgotten about you after you stepped into the car. With the two of them in the front, they chittered and chattered about their days and missions. No room was spared for your input as the two ranted while Suguru drove. And the few times Suguru brought you into the conversation, Satoru would steal it away again.

In their world, you failed to fit.

In the world, their world, you didn’t belong.

You had realized it long before the two loves of your life left the car without sparing you a thought, heading inside the bar with their arms slung over each other’s shoulders. You knew it deep down in your heart as you trailed behind the two, seating yourself a seat beside Gojo as he leaned his head against Geto’s shoulder.

It was solidified as the two bursted out in laughter after they had ordered their drinks, completely forgetting about you.

That’s why you didn’t hesitate to leave the bar once the two had drank half their drinks and been tipsy enough to lose themselves in each other. That’s why you clutched your purse to your hip as you stepped outside and walked until you found a set of stairs that ascended to platforms and platforms of open, flat roofs for you to climb upon.

That’s why you didn’t hesitate to jump onto each ledge, escaping the vicinity where your “lovers” sat. That’s why you ran and jumped until you found the tallest building, where all that stopped you from tumbling below to your death was nothing but a thin brick wall.

And maybe that’s why, you sat there until the sun fell and rose, sure that they never remembered you.

At least, that’s what you could tell from the lack of messages you received on your phone the whole night.

They’re happy, you tell yourself. They’re happy. At least, I know I contributed to that happiness a little bit.

——————————

They never realized your disappearance.

When you enter your shared home, greeted by the sight of your boyfriend’s naked with nothing but boxers on, they simply ask where you were without glancing back.

A simple “I went to Shoko’s” is enough to send them back onto each other.

That is when the end of you began.

————————

You’ve never trained this hard.

You’ve never really bled to near death from training. You never really pushed yourself to the point of complete and utter exhaustion from training.

From the night at the bar, you trained everyday, relentlessly. Before and after missions, in the mornings, afternoons, and nights. You have trained and lost sleep, fuels, and life.

But you’ve never succeeded so well in missions. For a grade 1 sorceress, you perform at the level Suguru does.

You have taken down three special grade curses in a single mission; from all your training, you have become one of the best.

Each mission you return, your students all stare at you in awe. Every sorcerer stares at you in awe and shock.

Yuuji and Nobara dance around you while Megumi watched you wearily each day.

Gojo and Geto stay engrossed in themselves, forgetting about you as each day pass.

And every time, you lose another part of yourself.

——————————————-

At last, they notice you.

They notice your disappearance.

They notice how your smaller body never greets any of them in the bed when they fall asleep or wake up. They notice how in the middle of the night, all they hold is each other.

They notice that each day, more cuts, bruises, and scars grow on your skin as you pass by them in the halls. They notice that you never genuinely smile anymore. Whenever the first years speak to you, a small-lipped grin is all one could spot on your lips.

When you talk to Shoko, your eyes are lifeless, your shoulders are tense, and you are nothing more than a body standing against the pull of gravity. The once soft curves of your body have hardened into dense muscle and the soft slopes of your face have become harsh lines and sharp edges.

You appear so powerful, but so hopeless.

That’s why they confront on the night of your birthday.

In one of the few instances they have caught you, the three of you agree to a date night for your birthday. It’s a way to catch up, they tell you.

You agree after they stop you and immediately move on with your day, leaving no room to talk.

When they expect you to return home, you never do.

All they receive is a text from you saying, “Let’s meet up at 8. Find me with my location.”

They follow suit, getting ready— dressed to impress.

It’s not the traditional garbs they wear, but modern suits and ties that highlights their hard earned muscles and define their slim waists.

They wonder what you’re wearing, too.

They learn when they track your location.

The dot on their phones pings when they reach the bar you all went out to a few months earlier, telling them to turn to the left and continue down.

There are no restaurants or places to eat as the two trek on, and they are left wondering if something happened to you.

Geto sends a worried text and Gojo calls. You don’t respond.

They continue on, until they find the stairs that ascend to the sky-high platforms. A familiar laugh rings in the air and in a trance, the two follow your voice.

The laughing dies quickly, and the two move quickly to where they heard the noise.

Are you okay? They can only ask themselves.

The sight of you sends the worry out of their minds.

Ahead of them, you are dressed in a slim, cherry red dress that hugs your chest and hips beautifully. A slight breeze tugs the ends of your hair behind you.

You are nothing short of radiant. But as they move to approach you, a powerful presence halts them.

It’s a curse, they decipher. It is powerful and it leaks its cursed energy everywhere.

It even swallows your own whole.

Where is it?

You step back and the curse itself emerges.

It is enormous— tall, bulky, with lines of black painted all over its body. Four muscular arms are attached to its equally as muscular torso and legs.

Sukuna.

You are speaking to the curse that possesses Yuji.

How? they want to shout. They cower behind each other instead.

He reached out an enormous hand to you, waiting for you to gently set it into his before another engulfs the small of your back, hoisting you up into his hold.

A bark of pure glee escapes him as a what appears to be a portal opens up, leading you to join him inside.

The two scream your name, preparing to fight.

You simply glance back blankly, watching as the two attempt to threaten the King of Curses to hand you back.

You never belonged anyway.

Why do they care now?

When Suguru lunges first with his dragon, you simply tap Sukuna’s forearm, motioning for him to take you inside.

A handsome grin grows on his face as he unleashes an attack against Suguru, sending him flying back into Gojo.

You spare no mind to them as you walk hand in hand with the King of Curses into a new world.

One where you belonged.

#jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x suguru #satoru x reader x suguru #satosugu angst #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #satosugu x reader

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s1m0nth3swag · 1 month

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Leon S. Kennedy Scenarios

Some sweet and short Leon Scenarios, all inspired by the wonderful @leonw4nter who sent me some of her ideas (gen love you for that)

Three scenarios in this one, all fluffy and cute because Leon deserves happiness, and I will be the one giving it to him !!!

Info about the scenario at the start of each one

[Leon says he isn't hungry, then proceeds to steal your food | Was intended for Death Island Leon, but honestly, I think it'd fit better for Vendetta]

You glare at your boyfriend of a year as you shovel food onto your plate. There was a usual way of going about this. Leon would say he wasn't hungry, that he'd eaten at work, and that you shouldn't make a serving for him as well. Each time, you'd stupidly trust his words, which would inevitably end in him casually helping himself to steal parts of your food, all under the disguise of suddenly being just a little bit hungry. This time, you were prepared. You had prepared a second serving and were ready to defend your food with your life.

You trotted to the couch of your shared apartment, flopped down on it, and swiftly put the TV on. Leon followed after you wordlessly, and you just instinctively knew he was up to something. He always was. He sat beside you, rested his head on your shoulder sweetly - you immediately held your food up as his hand shot out. “You said you aren't hungry!” You huffed, rolling your eyes as you scooted away from the other defensively. “Oh come on, that was so long ago. I just want a little taste!” Leon almost pouts, though the mischievous sparkle in his eyes instantly betrays him. “Fuck off! Get some yourself. There's still more in the kitchen!” You respond, kicking him playfully as he tries to get closer. He puts on his best expression of betrayal, trying to make you feel sorry for him. “That's all the way back there! I've already sat down. It ain't fair!” He exclaims. “Come on, just a little bit, please.” He pleads, resting his head on your knee as he stares up at you. He almost looks like a dog begging for food now. “No, get your lazy ass up and get it yourself.” You simply say, rolling your eyes as you casually continue eating.

Leon stares you down the entire time, waiting for the moment that his usual food manipulation tactic works - you stubbornly stand your ground, though. Each time he opens his mouth to complain once again, you simply shush him and tell him the exact placement of the rest of the food in the kitchen. After you finally set your plate down on the small table beside the couch, Leon huffs as he moves to sprawl himself on top of you. “You're awful.” He pouts, snuggling his face against the side of your neck. “Just get your own food, love. Ain't that hard.” You chuckle and run your fingers through his hair, feeling his following sigh as the air hits your neck. His arms wrap around you tightly as he snuggles further against you. “Isn't fair.” He mumbles. “You're supposed to share with me and shit.” You giggle. “I made you a second serving. You could've taken that, just saying.” Leon doesn't answer, too stubborn to do so as he rests on top of you.

“Next time.” He mutters after a while as you feel him smirk against your neck. “Sure.” You laugh softly. “Next time.”

[Matching Pyjamas with Death Island Leon]

Even though Leon grumbles about being too old for childish things like this, you know that deep down he is more than thrilled as you present him the clothes you had ordered. A set of matching hello kitty pyjamas that you had bought on a whim - you definitely needed to learn how to not spend your money on the most random things (the fact that you had used Leons credit card was a minor issue for that plan though). He looked at you, sighing as he watched how excited you were. “Please Lee, you only gotta wear them this once I swear!” You begged, and you swore it was visible that his facade crumbled down. “Fine, fine. This once.” He gives in, grabbing his set from your hands swiftly. “No pictures, no laughing or I swear you'll regret.” Leon then adds, slightly glaring at you because he knew for a fact that you had taken pictures of him sleeping before - in your defense, the way he cuddled up to you during the night was just too adorable. You quickly nodded, though, even if you planned on breaking that unspoken promise. You were pretty sure Leon knew that already.

He insisted on changing in the bathroom, something about it being a surprise - he probably just wanted to stare at himself in the mirror and rethink all his life choices. You hummed excitedly, patiently waiting as you sat on the side of your shared bed. The second he stepped out you grinned widely, giggling as he came to stand in front of you. “Happy?” He asked, answered by you snaking your arms around him while nodding. “Extremely so.” You sigh, resting your head against the soft fabric of the sleep shirt. “Good. Can we sleep now?” He grumbles, his cheeks ever so slightly flushed. You knew he enjoyed this more than he wanted to let show. “Nuh uh! Gotta take pictures first!” You smile, and Leon groans as he realises that he'd be in for a longer night than he had planned.

[Re2 Leon being head over heels for you (and getting made fun of for it) No Outbreak!]

Leon can't help but grin widely at the text you've sent him, almost like he has to read it over and over again to have it imprinted on his brain or he'll die. He's taking his lunch break right now, nestled into one of the break rooms chairs. You've agreed to come see him and get him something to eat, because he totally forgot his food at home - he definitely didn't not take it on purpose so you'd have to come save him.

The two of you had only been dating for a month or so, but Leon already dreamed of a wedding and waking up next to you every morning - which had happened only once up until now. It had been a stormy day, and during the evening it only got worse, which led to you simply staying over. Leon still got that tingly feeling in his stomach when he remembered how cute you had looked with your bed hair. If he wasn't such a gentleman, or if he wasn't so shy about it, he wouldn't have let you go the whole day. He giggles as he looks back through old messages - he especially likes the outfit checks you sometimes send him, he can't help but grin at the pictures and videos, his cheeks flushing as he thinks about how wonderful you look, no matter what you wear. He comes across the one where you stayed home for a day, and he swears his heart bursts with how adorable you look in your pajamas.

Leon knows he's getting weird looks from his workmates, but he really doesn't care. He's in love, he's allowed to be a little giggly and blushy, even if the others don't agree. Chris looks over his shoulder briefly, sighing a soft “simp”, and Leon shoots him a glare before lighting up at the sight of you walking into the break room. He immediately jumps from his seat, moving to give you a hug. “Missed you, Baby.” He mumbles, face snuggled against your hair, taking in the soft scent of your shampoo. “Can't have missed them much when you're on your phone the entire time looking at their pictures.” Chris speaks, and Leon would be mad at that, if you weren't giggling as hugging him back. “Brought you some snacks.” You hum, and Leon's heart practically stops in his chest with how cute you are - as if he hadn't been the one to tell you to get him food.

Moments later, he sits at the table again, you on his lap, because he insisted that the chairs would be too uncomfortable for you. He munches on one of the sweet treats you had brought him while you spoke about your day so far, Leon was definitely the happiest guy alive right now. He places soft kisses on your neck and jaw every now and then, smiling at you. He'd definitely die happy if it was by your side.

#leon vendetta #re2 leon #leon x reader #leon resident evil #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon death island #resident evil #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader

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thatfreshi · 8 months

Note

As a prompt - maybe Astarion (or Tav for that matter) going absolutely feral (and i mean really) when someone or something hurts badly the other (or try to) ?

I don't know of it has already been donc by you and if it has sorry, really appreciate your writing though ! Thank you <3

Learning to trust is difficult

tw - themes of death, talk of injuries

"I just don't know how you don't seem to care! It's bad Astarion, really bad, and I'm not going to sit here and watch you hurt."

While you and the vampire were on night watch, you got jumped by some thieves scrounging around in the woods of the Sword Coast. He took the brunt of the fight, taking quite a couple slices to the abdomen.

"We'll wait til morning, like I said. Shadowheart will be rested by then, and we'll all be fine."

"Oh right, so you can bleed out? You think you're such a jester, don't you."

You already dealt with the perpetrators, making sure they were flayed across the grass, any hopes they had of stealing from you shot down from miles away.

"If it were that bad I would wake her Tav, but it's not."

Gods, he's frustrating. Driving you to the point of madness, constantly. For someone who finally has a second chance at life, he can be quite reckless. Instead of trying to argue with him further, you walk over to where he's propped himself against his bedroll, and start undressing his wounds. He almost tries to push you away, but the lightest touch of the cuts makes him lose his strength.

"Tav, stop it."

"No! Because you can wrap these all you want, but if you leave these like this overnight it's going to get nasty, and I know for a fact you can't stitch wounds like this."

"Then it is was it is."

"No, I'm getting her. Stay here."

Astarion grabs at your wrist. There's a dreary silence for a moment, and he refuses your eye contact.

"I've done this by myself, for how long? Do you have any idea what it makes me feel like, having to turn to someone who is practically a stranger, and put my life in their hands? I did that once my love, and I have regretted it ever since."

And you know exactly what he's talking about, that night in the alley, fragmented memories only covered up by digging through six feet of dirt.

"You would've died though."

"Perhaps it would have been best that way."

You know that no selfish reason you have about wanting him around could ever make up for all the things he endured under Cazador, that if he had bled out that night he would at least be at peace.

"This is different though. We're all working together, we all want the same things. Shadowheart isn't going to hold this over you."

"You don't know that. I mean look at me. I planned on seducing you and getting rid of you as soon as I could, all to keep myself safe. We will never truly know what the others want, what their intentions with us are."

"Then why trust me?"

He hesitates as you wrap his abdomen once again.

"I... I don't know... You're just, different."

"Then what's to say Shadowheart isn't also different? Or any of them for that matter?"

You cup his face in your hand.

"It's just easier to risk one of you. To risk loving you, and only you. Because if you betray me? Then I've played myself for a fool, and I can't have two knives in my back."

"You don't have to trust her Aster, but you need her right now. We need her, because I can't lose you either."

Your hand trails to his, and you feel at each other's fingers for a few long moments. He tries to come up with something to say, knowing he will most likely bleed out if you two don't wake the cleric.

"You trust me right? You're making that risk at least, taking that chance? Then trust that I'm trying to make the right choice for you."

Even if he doesn't bleed out, he doesn't deserve to writhe in pain all night, to which you're sure he would say something about how he's done it a million times before. Why, why does he try to be strong for you?

"Alright my love, wake her."

You get up without a word, planting a quick kiss on his forehead before leaving the tent, your feet gliding to where Shadowheart is sleeping.

"Shadowheart, we need you."

She's a light sleeper, like most of you, and wakes with the few simple words you speak.

"What it is?"

The cleric asks as she walks with you.

"Astarion. We had some unwelcome visitors on watch. It's... it's not pretty."

You come back to your tent, gently moving the fabric by the entrance as Shadowheart moves to him, focused on doing what needs to be done. She unwraps the bandages and you come to his side. He's silent.

"Lady of Sorrows, this is horrific Astarion. How long have you let this sit like this?"

It takes him a moment to muster the words, still clearly embarrassed to be receiving her help this late. You've learned though that he hates people speaking for him, so you just wait.

"It's been about half an hour. Tav and I have been arguing about getting your assistance. They insisted we wake you, and I insisted we shouldn't bother."

"Well, you're lucky Tav isn't as stubborn as you are, because this is nasty. While I'm not as familiar with vampire anatomy, this would not have sat well overnight."

She takes a moment to gather herself, before casting healing touch, letting the magic linger a little longer than normal. You watch as his pale skin slowly comes back together, stitching itself up like embroidery thread. Shadowheart takes a moment to admire her work, smirking slightly. Her expression then becomes somber for a moment.

"As much as I'm not the sappy type, please don't hesitate to get me when you need me. Despite how much you all annoy me, I'm still rather fond of you as companions. I would hate to see any of you go too soon, especially over something as simple as this."

Astarion says nothing in return, and soon after the devout Sharran leaves the two of you alone. The two of you lie down, wrapping yourselves up in each other, limbs entangled as if you're scared of being torn apart.

"I know it's hard, but you have to learn to ask for help. If not for yourself, for me. Because I can only do so much my star."

"I know."

"I'm sorry I yelled. It just really scares me, the idea that I could lose you."

He nuzzles into your chest, the movement dampening his voice.

"I don't think anyone's ever been afraid to lose me, except me. And I fear I lost myself far too long ago for it to matter."

You wrap your fingers in his hair, sitting in the sorrow with him.

"All things that are lost can be found. And we'll find you again my love, I promise."

He doesn't thank you, which you don't mind. After all, Astarion isn't used to having anyone to genuinely thank. But the way he lets you hold him, that slowly but surely the walls are coming down, that's his own way of saying it, saying that he's grateful. And as long as he lives to see another day, you'll take whatever he gives you, for as long as both of you live.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x tav #angst #comfort #x reader

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undreaming-fanfiction · 9 months

Text

Hearts Don't Break Around Here

For the lovely @thefreakandthehair for her wedding. I hope it was everything you wanted it to be!

(also on Ao3)

It’s the small things that make Eddie Munson realize he’d like to make some changes to his life. The mountain of mugs on his desk tells him that, hey, maybe he should get a tea pot (or a bigger desk). The holes in his t-shirt don’t really bother him until he accidentally drops some very hot cigarette ash through one of them and he realizes that he should retire the t-shirt, or maybe re-purpose it for his next battle vest. The way he thinks about it, he needs the universe to send him a small sign.

When it comes to Steve Harrington? Eddie is the happiest in his life. Steve isn’t just a boyfriend, he is THE boyfriend, the alpha and omega of boyfriendness or boyfrienddom, Eddie still can’t decide what to call it. Whatever a boyfriend should be, Steve is. So Eddie doesn’t really think of any possible changes, everything is perfect, except…

Except they’re in bed together, trading lazy kisses and exchanging those stupid little words that make Eddie feel all warm and fuzzy and put a silly smile on Steve’s face. They’re holding hands, Eddie’s guitar calluses against Steve’s sport ones, and Eddie runs his finger over Steve’s and thinks.

I really, really want to put a ring on this man.

The realization hits him like a baby Demogorgon, and once he scrambles together a poor explanation of why he froze mid-kiss (“there was a bug, Steve, like an enormous bug, Shelob-like, I swear on Dustin’s mother!”), he courageously decides to explore his feelings on the matter.

Of course, they can’t get officially married. Yet. Eddie is an optimist, so there is always a yet to be added to any negative thought. It isn’t really about making it legal or seeing Steve in white (well, maybe a little) or having a big party. No, it’s just…

The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes it’s about the promise.

Eddie hasn’t had many certainties in his life, but when they appear, he’s distrustful of them. Nothing lasts long for him and if it does, it only gets taken away the very second he starts feeling hopeful that maybe this is it, this is the one thing he’ll get to keep. He used to feel that way about Steve, but Steve Harrington never left. And when Eddie finally broached the subject, asked him why he tolerates Eddie’s humor, messiness, lack of drive and basically everything Eddie, Steve took Eddie’s hands in his and told him, “I’ve had my share of perfection for a lifetime, Eddie. It’s pretty but so cold. Being with you? It’s like…like being in the sun in the spring, when it’s warm and you’re lying on grass and there are ants walking over you and your clothes are likely to get stained, but you just don’t care because it’s the only place you want to be.” And as if that wasn’t too much for Eddie’s poor heart, he added, “I will never break your heart, Eddie. Never. And I don’t make these promises lightly.”

So no, no one can blame Eddie for wanting to give Steve something back. He wants Steve to be the first commitment Eddie dares to believe, and no matter what, he’ll get that ring.

If only it was that easy.

First of all, choosing anything in Hawkins is impossible. His dear old dad made sure that Eddie can’t go anywhere near jewelry shops without people blaming him for trying to steal stuff, so he makes a trip to Indy and stares to his heart’s content. It’s only when the shopkeeper, a nice elderly lady, asks him what style he’s looking for, he realizes – he has no idea.

He promises to come back the next weekend, a bit more decisive and well-prepared.

Eddie sucks at being inconspicuous, so he enlists help. Robin – after squishing his cheeks to death and beyond – agrees to be his spy and drags Steve off to an emergency meeting, claiming things are way more serious with her college girlfriend than they really are and, “I want to give her something nice, like a ring, but a ring that doesn’t say “marry me”, you get me Steve, no time for that when I’m up to my ears in books, so what would you say is an ideal ring? Is that different for guys maybe? What would you choose? I’m just curious because the only example of a guy with a ring I know is Eddie, and I’m not giving her a silver demon thing, nope, not ever.”

Eddie learns two things this way.

First: Steve doesn’t have clear preferences for jewelry, he is all for “seeing the thought behind it”. Eddie wonders if Steve realizes how many thoughts he has and not all of them are ring-worthy.

Second: Steve thinks having an engraving on the inside is the most romantic thing ever, even something simple can become so personal and touching. What should the engraving be? Robin doesn’t know.

The next weekend comes and Eddie drives back to Indy again (Wayne is covering for him, telling Steve he asked Eddie to run some errands for him) and he’s better prepared this time. He chooses a simple gold ring with a yellow stone, just a small one, almost invisible, but Steve’s sweater is always on his mind, so it’s a good choice. He thinks about the engraving too, and his list is, in hindsight, atrocious, and he might have written it when seriously sleep-deprived, but still. He cringes at his own handwriting.

To my Ozzy

You’re so metal, baby

I tolerate basketball for you

To my only reason why 1986 was good

Get a mug collection with me?

But there is just one that Eddie sees and thinks , this is it . So when the nice lady asks him what to engrave, he hands her a paper with his messy handwriting that simply says:

You’re my home, Stevie

The moment of elation and victory is short-lived. She asks him for Steve’s ring size, and well. He should have probably found that out, shouldn’t he?

He promises to return to the shop as soon as he knows. On his way back, he tries to figure out an inconspicuous way of measuring Steve’s fingers.

Once again, Eddie sucks at being inconspicuous.

He tries wrapping a measuring tape around Steve’s finger when they’re asleep. That nearly earns him a smack in the face with Steve’s bat because he’s a light sleeper and forever scarred by their Upside Down adventures. At least Eddie manages to persuade Steve that it was just a piece of his pajamas stuck on Steve’s finger so he doesn’t question the weird feeling that woke him up.

He practices measuring by touch and holding Steve’s hands a lot. The margin of error is in centimeters, so he gives this idea up pretty easily. He blames it on not having enough time to practice, of course.

He (inconspicuously, of course) wonders aloud whether his hands are larger than Steve’s. They place their palms against each other, notice that Eddie’s fingers are slimmer and longer and Steve’s are shorter and stronger, but otherwise? Not helpful.

The breakthrough finally comes when Eddie actually volunteers to wash the dishes for once, but asks Steve to hold on to his rings. He places them on Steve’s fingers and notices with barely contained excitement that yes, one of his rings actually fits Steve’s ring finger (some shuffling around was required, “I don’t want to lose any of the rings, Steve, they need to fit very, very precisely!”).

Eddie has his answer now. He ties a small ribbon to the ring so he doesn’t forget which one it is, basically races to Indy again after calling Wayne and using the agreed code word to have his uncle send him to run some imaginary errands again.

He bursts into the shop, wheezing and holding the ring between his fingers. “This big!” he chokes out and collapses against the counter while the shopkeeper (Margaret, they’re on first name terms now since he’s been ring shopping for around a month) hands him a glass of water.

“Your Steve must be pretty special,” she smiles at him, and Eddie’s brain short-circuits because Indy is better, but definitely not accepting, and this lady has been so nice, has he blown it? Has he ever mentioned he has a boyfriend? Shit, he must have…

He opens his mouth like a fish several times. “Uh…m…Stevie…is, yes?” he says and prays he’s not going to get kicked out in the next twenty seconds. “The…the stone reminds me of him. He’s like a ray of sunshine.”

Margaret just laughs and refills his glass. “Good for you. It’s nice to see someone have the courage. I wish I had it in my day.”

Eddie is laughing with her now, the water surface in his glass is swaying from side to side and tells her, “Your day isn’t over, it’s never over until we’re done breathing.” She gives him the kindest smile anyone outside of his found family has ever spared him. It keeps him warm on his way back to Hawkins.

He picks up the ring in three days, he can’t wait any longer, and Margaret is kind enough to get the engraving as a priority. She meets him outside of the shop in the evening, hands him the small blue velvet box and grasps his hand before letting go. “Go make that handsome young man happy,” she says and Eddie has never promised to do something so easily and so fast.

He stashes the box in the drawer with his formal wear and waits for the perfect opportunity. That resolution lasts him for about one week because another thing Eddie sucks at is being patient. On top of that, Eddie knows in his heart that Steve has had a lifetime of grand gestures and pretend perfection. Sure, Steve deserves all the romance and luxury Eddie can afford, but if he says he’s even happier in their cramped home, on their old bed, with the constant DIY projects, homemade meals, and bad movies rented from Family Video, Eddie will respect that. Hell, Eddie loves that.

They’re cuddling together on a sofa, dishes unwashed and piled up in the sink, and the latest B-list sci-fi movie playing on their small TV. Eddie’s holding Steve’s hand again and he traces his fingers, feels the bare skin and realizes – this is it. This is when I do it.

He kisses Steve and promises he’ll be right back, he just needs to quickly take a note of something for the next campaign. Eddie doesn’t even try to conceal the rush he’s in, he dives into their bedroom and completely destroys the fragile order in his drawer to get to the priceless box. His hands are shaking, but he’s determined, he opens the door again, slips into their living room and-

And Steve is there, smiling at him like his own personal ray of sunshine, a bit shy but radiant, just as he always is. And in his hand-

“No way,” chuckles Eddie and inspects the blue box Steve is holding to confirm that yes, it bears the logo of Margaret’s shop. “When did you get to Indy?”

Steve takes a step closer and tucks Eddie’s unruly hair behind his ear. “Let’s just say I skipped some basketball practices. And before you ask, yes, I had to use blackmail to keep Sinclair quiet.”

“Oh?” Eddie’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but he can’t help it. “What did you tell him?”

“Nothing big. Just that I still have the list with potential date ideas with Max he forgot at my place and I’m holding that hostage. Now, I believe I have a question to ask. And…” he looks down at Eddie’s trembling fingers, “maybe you do too?”

Eddie kisses him, short and sweet. “That depends, are you going to say yes?” It’s playful, but there’s also a hint of insecurity, the fear that Steve managed to weaken but never truly destroy. And maybe it’s the coward’s way out, but Eddie needs to know if he’s right in thinking Steve wants this too, if maybe he just got the ring because he wanted to make Eddie happy or assumed that’s what Eddie wanted. Which duh, he does, but this is not about

“I told you, Eddie,” and Steve’s hand is back on his cheek, stroking it, grounding Eddie. “I will never break your heart. And I trust you so much that I want to give mine to you. If you’ll have it.”

He leans his forehead against Steve’s, smiling at the ridiculousness of the question. “If I’ll have it? Stevie, I do. So much. I will cherish it, polish it, even dust it because I know you love everything to be clean.” Steve snorts, but Eddie continues, determined to finish his improvised speech. “I know it’s not the life you thought you’d have. I can’t give you a real wedding, kids, I can’t even kiss you in public. And I know it doesn’t change much between us, but I just want to give you this. I want to give you a real promise that your heart is safe with me, just like mine is safe with you. And it will always be.”

They exchange their “yes” between kisses, and when they catch their breath, the rings follow. Steve loves his, of course he does, and he tears up at the engraving, but then Eddie sees his own silver band and notices something written inside too.

I will follow you to Mordor, Eds.

“You remembered,” he whispers as Steve pushes the ring onto his finger. “You don’t even know the books and you remembered.”

Laughing, Steve shakes his head. “Don’t give me too much credit. I had to badger Dustin to tell me what you said during that spring break. I…I just thought it’s fitting, you know. It was fucked up, cruel and painful, and yet…I’d go through all of it again, just to be with you here.”

Crushing Steve in a hug, Eddie knows exactly how he feels.

The next morning, Eddie actually wakes up early. He manages to leave the bed without rousing his fiancé, Jesus Christ, he’s never going to get used to saying it or seeing the ring on his finger. Sneaking towards the phone, he finds his wallet and the card that Margaret gave him, and when she picks up, he doesn’t even give her a chance to announce her name.

“Hello Margaret, my dear,” he drawls, “when were you planning to tell me that you know Steve too?”

He can hear her chuckling. “Well, dear. I thought me saying that Steve is handsome implied it?”

“Oh.” Eddie isn’t entirely speechless, but it’s close. “So…how did you know it was…you know. My Steve? And not any other Steve?”

There’s a strange sound, possibly Margaret sipping coffee, before she responds. “I could tell you it’s the experience I have. Or that I had a hunch. But – he came in wearing a yellow sweater. A very familiar-looking yellow. And he said he’s looking for an engagement ring for someone who is non-conforming, passionate and loves silver, red and black. It wasn’t difficult to put two and two together, especially after he told me what he wanted engraved.” Another sip. “But that’s enough about that, what I want to know is – who proposed first?”

Eddie laughs into the phone and switches hands so he can admire the silver ring glistening in the morning light. “I’d say it was a tie. But hey, we both said yes. Thank you so much, Margaret, for all you’ve done. And, uh. If we ever get to have a wedding, you’re invited.”

“It would be my pleasure,” she says and Eddie thinks she really means it.

“Great, I will call you then. And Margaret?” He twirls the cord around his fingers, only sparing a second to form his thoughts. “In case you find some of that courage too? I can guarantee you a plus one, so be a brave lady and get one, hmm?”

Her laughter follows him as he hangs up and returns to the bed to join the future Mr. Munson.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic

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dumbbitchenergy17 · 8 months

Text

Where the Wild Things Are - Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Cigarette Burns

Plot: Wild men or monstrous infected creatures, the world is wild and ravaged by Cordecyps but some are raised in it and flourish becoming a wild thing.

Word Count: 3.8K

Pairing: Joel Miller x Platonic!Teen!Reader, Ellie Williams x Platonic!Reader

Warnings: canon-typical fighting/violence, injuries, harsh language, tw: near-death experience, trauma from abusive mother, DESCRIPTION OF BURNS

—————

When my time comes around. Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down

The cold is an enemy to fear more than infected or regular people in this kind of world. You could be in a remote area with no one for hundreds of miles, but the cold is always there. It doesn’t hide or wait for you to call it out, it attacks harshly and violently with no forgiveness. If you don’t have warm enough clothes, shelter, or fire you’re not surviving the night out with Mother Nature. It feels like thousands of needles stabbing into your skin repeatedly, or a numbing sensation that fills your body with panic when you can’t move your limbs. The cold could feel like you are melting it scorching your skin as it brings you to the sweet release of death. Cold isn’t a friend to any it went for everyone and everything, and only walked away knowing that you weren’t going to get back up.

Kansas winters were easier than Wyoming. Having a building to hide and be sheltered from, though run down with limited heat. You became resourceful, the puddle of blankets pushed right next to the heater waiting for the sputters and rattling as the heat flowed through it to get you through the night. The heater right beside the window allows you to gaze up into the sky connecting the stars to create paintings in the inky darkness. You are surprised how much was coming from the heater. It was never on for this long maybe a minute max but it was flowing steadily through.

“Honey?” The airiness of your mother’s voice threw you in a whirlwind not expecting the softness coming from the usual snarl and venom. “Come to bed with Mommy. Aren’t you so cold?” She stands at the doorway to her room holding her hand out as you push yourself up from the makeshift bed of blankets.

“But you don’t like me in your room.” You whisper out to her. It was one of the many things she ordered you to never touch. But her room was the biggest, she didn’t want you stealing anything as she puts it. She gives a soft smile still holding out her hand.

“Come on…daddy and I are waiting for you.” She says and you freeze. Your dad? But you never knew him, he left long before you were even born. A thing she constantly reminds and blames you for.

Ruining my fucking life….I should never have slept with that bastard…should have gotten rid of you the second I found out I was pregnant….bastard child along with a bastard father.

You always wondered what he’d be like, probably kind and strong, someone who would wipe your tears away when you were sad and make you smile from the jokes he would tell. To protect you from your bullies…to keep you safe from your mother. You wished he stayed so he’d take you away and it would be the two of you. But you never expressed those things. You tried asking about your father when you were very young but it only led to her screaming at you, how you were an ungrateful brat, after everything she’s done you wanted to think about being with your father. The guilt she held over your head like a toy twisting and molding it to have her be the perfect mother and you the horrible daughter.

Maybe you are a bad daughter…

Your father didn’t want you and she could have abandoned you too but didn’t. Was it love? You don’t think you knew what love is, whether platonically or romantically so those thoughts died. The idea of a father seemed like a fading thought, the idea seemed unrealistic like it was impossible to exist. Staring at the bedroom door that held your mother…and father waiting for you. To protect you…to love you.

“Come on kid!” A voice yells and your eyes snap open seeing Joel above you. Your body instantly shakes and you feel so cold and the striking pain in your shoulder and neck. It isn’t just the lack of body temperature that is painful each shiver and quake causes your body to ache and that produces more pain in your shoulder. Everything is fuzzy and dim your head feels like a dead weight as it almost lolls back if the man didn’t grab your neck to keep you stable. “Keep your eyes open. You’re alright,” He says before he yells over his shoulder, “Ellie where are those damn blankets!”

“I got them!” A young voice yells out and you see the girl holding a crap ton of blankets that she could barely see where she is walking. Another large shiver racks through your body an instinctive groan of pain as Joel looks over seeing your outerwear is off, your coat, socks, and boots are soaked in snow. The single layer of the long-sleeve shirt was still bleeding heavily and you weren’t even wearing gloves. Your fingers and parts of your face were bright red but he was glad to not see any signs of frostbite but mild symptoms of frostnip. The thick line across your throat from the cable made the flesh raw and irritated. He felt cemented in place trying to think of the next best step but he could only see his little girl in his arms when he had to carry you inside when you passed out from the pain and cold.

“Joel move, find the suture kit, and then get something warm for her drink. Tommy washcloths and gets some wood to start a fire. Ellie watch him.” Maria moves the older man aside before giving her son to the younger girl as she takes over the survival and motherly instincts coming out taking complete control of the situation. Your body practically vibrates from the cold and Maria moves closer you try to pull away but your shoulder makes you wince.

“You’re alright I need to take off your shirt so we can check your wounds. You have something under this?” Her voice is warm and comforting and she could see fear in your eyes surprising her used to sharp and cold ones. After gaining more sense of consciousness and understanding of the situation you were in you nod and she helps you sit up the blankets covering part of your stomach and your legs. Tommy returns with the washcloths and Joel with the suture kit before they return to their second task. Her hands move to your shirt and you stiffen and she waits noticing the uneven rhythm of your breathing before helping take off your shirt. Left in a slightly bloody tank top the shirt now clutched between your hands as you hear Maria’s sharp inhale. The noise drew the attention of the two adults just finishing their duties and the young girl.

Ellie had entered the kitchen with the baby to keep their view away from that finding the man standing there frozen unsure what to make, you couldn’t have coffee it could mess with your heart, and alcohol was out of the question. Joel had seen your aversion to the amber liquid. He hadn’t noticed the tightness in his chest and the ringing in his ears until Ellie grabbed his arm pulling him out of his state of panic.

“Joel..” The girl pulls him from his thoughts as he looks at his surrogate daughter, “You alright?” He wasn’t sure where this sudden state of panic came from. He had watched you ride out after one of the horses, himself and Tommy following after entering the storm urgency in them knowing you had no idea what was out there and you were defenseless. They had heard the large bang that sent fear through both brothers before the horses appeared without the rider. Joel headed off where they came from while Tommy wrangled the creatures. He had arrived just before it was too late seeing you being choked by a raider quickly shooting the one that was suffocating you seeing the damage you committed to the other raider. You had almost attacked him the fear and adrenaline probably overdosing your veins seeing the cold affecting you and the speckles of blood on your face.

It was that same fear in your eyes that he’d seen before. The years ago when Ellie had been kidnapped he was too late to rescue her from losing her innocence as she killed her captor, but the same fear that night all those years ago as his little girl clutched his arms as the life faded from her. He saw that same fear in your eyes and it sent him into a panic like he was reliving a horrid memory where he just kept failing. The nightmares he couldn’t remember when he woke up though he didn’t have them as often but when you came into his life they seemed to return. You are harsher and ruthless, everything he was during the beginning of the end of the world but you were only a kid. Tainted with the basics of childhood and thrust into the hate and death of the world. There are many things he wanted to know; how did you end up in Wyoming from Kansas, did you lose your parents during your travels, he wanted to know everything that there was about you. This draw and connection he didn’t think he’d feel. You are blunt, crude, aggressive, and an annoyance to him but here he stood panicking over you.

Why?

“I don’t think we have anything…to um..drink.” He says forcing himself to take a shaky inhale to calm his rapid heartbeat. Ellie seems to sense the panic and see the softness in the man’s eyes. Despite it being about a year in Jackson Joel was still a recluse, sure he helped around the community being a contractor in his past but he wasn’t one to make friends. He spoke in short phrases, grunts, and nods when people talked to him. It reminded her of someone she knew. He only really cracked a smile or told those dumb jokes around his brother or Ellie, and sometimes Maria. But you are here and she saw the softness as he held you in his arms bringing you inside or when he spoke to you before he was sent off into the kitchen. Ellie moves through the kitchen opening a cabinet reaching into the far back feeling the bag of treats she has hidden pulling out the bag of chocolatey goodness then to a fridge pulling out some milk. She puts the objects in Joel’s hands as he looks at them confused.

Ellie points at the chocolate and the milk, “Put that in there and heat it up, it’s good. It’s called-” “I know what hot chocolate is.” Joel grunts surprised to see the candy it looks handmade as he gets to work. He remembers a time when he made these during Christmas with small marshmallows and using candy canes to stir, even on rainy days watching a movie, or during sick days knowing they always warmed up Sarah making her feel better from whatever illness was affecting her. It was domestic and normal standing over the stove watching the milk heat up as he stirred the broken pieces of chocolate to melt once warm enough pouring it into a mug. He enters the room with the younger girl and his nephew and hears Maria’s sudden inhale and panic rises in him.

“What is it?” Tommy asks heading towards his wife stopping and his eyes widen taken over by shock. Joel was more panicked and Ellie was curious about what was going on as she and Joel took in what was shocking Maria and Tommy. They all noticed the scars that litter your arms, they expected something from someone who protected themselves out in this fucked up world. But they were crude the scars probably worse than the injury with the suture work you likely performed on yourself, but that wasn’t the scar and injury that had caught Maria’s attention and soon drew all theirs as Ellie tried understanding what a group of scars on your arms were.

“What is that?” Ellie questions the dot-shaped scars and Joel feels a sickness fill his stomach, “Are those burns?” She says that the adults in the room who did live in a normal world at one point recognize the scars that could only be caused by an object that was used by frequently stressed-filled parents with sticks of nicotine.

“Ellie take Liam upstairs. Now.” Joel’s voice is harsh and the teen tries to protest but with the look Joel gives her she doesn’t dare to defy taking the young baby upstairs the door to her room closing. Tommy stands up holding a fist to his mouth trying to hold in his rage.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Tommy spits the anger thick in his voice “Tommy.” Joel gives a warning tone to his younger brother.

“It’s fucking cigarette burns Joel. Christ,” Tommy wipes his hands down his face, “Those have to be years old.” You frown at Tommy's pacing vibrating with frustration and rage. The younger Miller seems to have noticed your look bending down to your level, “I’m not mad at you kid it’s just…you didn’t deserve this whoever did this to you.” You look away from the male using part of the shirt to cover your arms the small burns covered your forearms but the damage was already done they had seen it. Maria starts grabbing the needle and thread but you try stopping her.

“I can do it,” You look ashamed seeing their pity in their faces, “I don’t need your help.” Maria shakes her head.

“Just let me do this for you or we’re getting the doctor.” She places the final offer but you’re trying to pull your shirt back on biting your lip to stop the groan of pain and the once-clotted blood begins free-flowing. Joel curses grabbing one of the washcloths and presses it to your shoulder.

“Stop it! I don’t need your help!” You yell trying to pull away but it only creates more pain for you. “Stop it kid. You can��t see the full extension of it and your previous work isn’t a good show of trust,” Joel says and you glare up at him.

“Please kid, you’ve been bleeding for a while.” Tommy pleads and the rational side that wishes to live wins out but the more pissed off side doesn’t go down easy.

“I don’t want you here.” You say and Tommy sighs but if that was what got you to comply he gets up heading towards the stairs. You look over at Joel who hasn’t moved, “You too. I don’t fucking need you, Joel.” You hiss and for a second you feel guilty seeing his concern reveal slight hurt before it’s quickly covered by the mean expression constantly on his face. Joel nods stiffly moving out of the living room past his brother the door to his room slamming shut while Tommy makes his way to Ellie’s room to see his son.

The living room is quiet except for the occasional grunt of pain from you when the needle pierces through your skin and a murmur of apologies from Maria. Holding one of the washcloths to wipe away stray blood that spills Maria sits behind you as you sit sideways on the couch. Your gaze is drawn to the falling snow from the window in the living room counting the flakes that made contact with the glass.

“You know you should talk about it.” Maria speaks up and she watches your shoulders stiffen at her words before she continues, “You had us worried when Tommy and Joel watched you rush after that horse.” It’s quiet and she isn’t even sure if you heard what she said.

“We only want what’s best for you and seeing these kinds of injuries on your body. I worry Tommy worries, Ellie worries, even Joel. Especially Joel.” She says and a mixture of a scoff and laugh comes from you.

“What do you know what’s best for me…you’ve kept me here for your safety.” You say, “If you wanted to you could have killed me already so no one would find this place.” It was true if this had been any situation and you had stumbled upon them you would have been six feet under by now, but they met you, they came to the cabin, they decided to bring you back and help you. You could have bled out in that cabin if they had left when you told them to.

“And we didn’t because we are trying to bring back a sense of normalcy here. If we just killed people left and right we would be no better than those raiders after you,” Maria says and you hiss slightly from the needle entering your flesh. “In case you hadn’t noticed everyone in this building cares about you. And no matter how much you curse or say you don’t need our help. Deep down there’s a part of you that wants to let us in to ask for help.”

Maria lets silence fill the two of you as she continues her sewing and you don’t seem to even flinch at the pain. “It’s my fault anyway.” You say and Maria glances over your shoulder seeing you grip the bloody washcloth between your hands.

“I got myself in that mess and I found out what happened….I fucked around and I found out.” Your voice was thick tracing each burn on your arms with your eyes each ranging from light scar tissue from how long it's been others just as old darken from how long the butt of the stick pressed into your flesh. The young screams still echo in your ears as your arm was held to the table when it first happened just to get hit for crying. You learned quickly to not cry when she gave you that punishment.

“And who said it was your fault cause those don’t look like just a one-time occurrence.” Maria presses wanting to hear a name or someone. She prays whoever did this was long dead or suffering a horrible life. You felt a tightness in your throat at the question. You can still smell the nicotine and liquor on her breath the harsh grip of her nails breaking the skin with her warnings.

“Tell anyone and you’re going to wish you were never born.”

She isn’t here she couldn’t do anything. As much as you knew she was long gone Kansas City was running wild with infected from what Ellie described in her journeys.

“My..my mom.” It was so quiet you are certain she didn’t hear you but she did. She pauses the needle held in her hand as she looks at the profile of you. “It wasn’t her fault. She acts out when she’s mad. We were low on ration cards and I had gotten in trouble with Fedra.” It was a ramble of excuses that Maria knew did excuse burning your child. Maria’s silence makes you stop.

“Just…don’t tell them. I can feel your pity eating away.” You say and the older woman frowns she does feel bad for you. No child should have ever been treated like that and she was certain some of these other injuries may have been the cause of your mother.

“And your father,” She finally speaks up as she ties off the last stitch moving to clean the rest of the blood with the cloth, “He didn’t try to stop her?”

“A man that I’ve never met can’t really help ya know.” You say dryly. You wish he was there. Maybe he would have stopped it all, taken you away, and been the dad you’ve only seen in stories and dreams. But he wasn’t. Did that make him worse than her, he left a woman pregnant in a world that was ending around you all. Wrapping your shoulder in the bandage and briefly covering your neck she pulls back beginning to collect the items for the suture kit and bloody washcloths.

“Thank you.” You say and Maria looks back seeing you still not facing her and a small grin grows on her face. It was progress, slow progress but progress. More than a one-sided conversation though not a lighthearted one and a ‘thank you’ not some nod or even forced. Genuine.

“Just be careful with your shoulder.” She says before she heads upstairs to collect her husband and son from the event-filled night. When both Miller brothers, Maria and Ellie return downstairs to head out but also check in on you just catching a glimpse of you retreating to your room. The living room was back in order the suture kit was all packed up the bloody washcloths and your shirt was thrown away. Maria reassured the three of them you were alright and Ellie was a bit upset wanting to see you but retreated back to her room to sleep. Joel looks over at the mug still full resting on the table his gesture of help is forgotten and it makes his chest ache slightly.

“She’s gonna be alright?” Tommy says while fixing his grip on his sleeping son, the three adults had seen the scars and burns, and how you acted to them and towards people explained a lot.

“It was a pretty deep cut and her neck was raw as hell but other than that she’s alright,” Maria explains but Joel could see she was hiding something. There was a look on her face something she knew but she didn’t tell him even Tommy.

“And the burns,” Tommy whispers not wanting to speak up on it around his son even though he was fast asleep and too young to remember. Joel watches Maria as she pauses before fixing her coat.

“She wouldn’t tell me how she got them.” Liar. He could spot the lie as clear as day. But why was she covering for you? Joel nods and with nothing more to say the small family of three left to return to their home as Joel moves to the living room. Your coat hung on the hooks and your shoes and socks were piled neatly in the corner despite him ripping them off you in a panic. It’s as if you were never injured and sewed back together on the couch. Your features for such a young girl held such tiredness and stress even as you bled out. No fear though. Not a moment where you were afraid of dying just wanting this moment of weakness to go. A weight in his gut from the circumstances of today, thousands of scenarios running through his head, what if he and Tommy were too late for the raiders? What if your injuries were too severe for them to help you?

Stop it, Joel.

He shakes his head looking at the couch and your words ring back at him,

“You too. I don’t fucking need you, Joel.”

Pulling back like he was burned he returns to his room pushing away the insecurities and questions. The still-filled mug remains on the table the only thing holding the memories of what occurred tonight.

#the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #joel miller #joel miller x teen!reader #joel miller x platonic!reader #joel miller x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x platonic!reader #ellie williams x teen!reader #ellie williams x reader #tommy miller #tommy miller x platonic!reader #tommy miller x reader

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aemondsquill · 1 year

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ok well now we all need an alternative “keep going” ending where they do make it. you know, for our mental health and stability.

Keep Going (alt ending)

Aemond Targaryen × Pregnant!Reader

Hey I'm happy to oblige! This ending will contain some good ol' tooth-rotting fluff because this family deserves some PEACE!

This is going to start right when they reach the mouth of the cave before Daemon appears.

Warnings: Mentions of war, fighting, violence yadda yadda yadda, we stan Rhaenyra in this household

"Escaping into the night with your treasonous husband, daughter?"

Y/N's blood freezes as Daemon slinks out of the shadows along with ten bloody thirsty Queensguard.

"Father, please. Rhaenyra promised us safe passage. We want no part in this war." Y/N put her hands up in surrender gently, as if approaching a wild animal. Daemon chuckled, but the humor did not reach his cold eyes.

"Whose idea do you think it was to send you that raven, my dear?" Daemon sneered. Betrayal, grave and cold, threaded through Y/N's entire being. A tender heart so easily swayed by pretty promises on a page. And she fell for it so easily. Tears of frustration welled in her eyes. Aemond gripped the hilt of his sword beneath his cloak, ready for a blood bath. 'Run. Run, you insolent little girl.' He begged internally.

Before he could unsheath his sword a defeaning roar rattled the granite around them. All eyes turned skyward at the site of Rhaenyra, beautiful and fearsome atop Syrax.

Syrax lands gracefully upon the beach.

"Let them pass, husband."

Daemon looks startled at his Queen's sudden appearance.

"My daughter is attempting to smuggle out the Kinslayer! She must pay for her treason!"

Syrax stalks closer and Daemon, flanked by the Queensguard, only steps back further. He was a fearsome knight, but without a dragon he was still merely a man. This was a fight he would not win.

Rhaenyra glares down at him. "I will deal with the Kinslayer after I take back the throne. Right now your daughter needs him as she is carrying his child. Let them pass or you will meet the same fate Aegon will." Y/N and Aemond could only watch in pure astonishment, surely this was all a cruel dream? Aemond silently thanked the gods numerous times, promising to spend the rest of his waking moments honoring them.

Daemon begrudgingly demanded the Queensguard to stand down. Y/N grasped her husband's warm, yet trembling hand in her own and lead him to the rowboat that awaited them. Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest and bile nearly rose in her throat. So close to death she had been.

Aemond could not help but let a small smirk linger on his face as he passed Daemon. The older man could only tightly grip his dagger and snarl as a way to restrain himself.

Aemond helps Y/N into the little rowboat and hops in after her. He takes a moment to fully embrace her. He wants to remember her warmth and the softness of her skin. When he pulls back he just gazes at her lovingly, hoping to commit every little feature and flaw to memory. The slope of her nose, the bow of her lips, and her bright violet eyes that glow in the moonlight.

Aemond's chest fills with warmth at the site of her, such a perfect little wife she is.

Finally, he reaches down and caresses her belly. He can feel the delicate movements of his child within and joy floods his veins. How could he be so lucky? The thought of losing either of them overwhelms him and causes his chest to clench painfully.

The whiplash of emotions took a toll on Aemond. Just moments ago he was fully prepared to give his life to save his bride and now he is rejoicing and thanking Rhaenyra, his half-sister who he had learned to hate. This vile woman who intended to steal his brother's throne, whose bastard children were seen as equal to him, bestowed the greatest mercy upon him and he couldn't help but stare at her in admiration.

Rhaenyra watches them, heart warming at the sight of her stepdaughter receiving all the love she deserves. She could not bear the thought of taking away that child's father, knowing what she went through after Harwin's death. Rhaenyra's eyes felt misty at the memory of him.

Rhaenyra kept a protective eye on them as they rowed further and further away, until they were just a dot in the distance.

"You would so willingly kill your own daughter, husband? That makes you no better than the Kinslayer." Daemon looked down in shame, but he knew she was right. He was acting out of anger and he knew he would've come to regret murdering his eldest daughter.

---

The couple reached the island where Vhagar waited. Neither could believe they even made it to the boat.

Y/N was overcome with emotion.

"I thought we were done for! Almost murdered by my own father!" She wept. Aemond just held her tightly in his arms and gently pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"I would not have let it come to that. I would give my life for you and our child." His thumb brushed away the tears that rolled down her cheeks as he smiled down at her.

Aemond knelt down in the sand and placed his forehead against her belly. "Hello, little one" he cooed, "I want you to know I will always protect you. You will never feel fear as long as I am around. I will spend the rest of my days loving and cherishing you." He pressed a firm kiss against Y/N's swollen stomach, sealing his promise.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x fem!reader #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine

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david-talks-sw · 1 year

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For a lot of fans, the "Jedi lost their way" take really comes down to:

"I never saw the Jedi Council genuinely be kind to Anakin in any meaningful way, so I just filled in the gaps and assumed they were dicks to him".

From there you get the myths that the Jedi manipulated him, only cared for him because of his power, forbid him from seeing his Mom, Mace in particular hated him, etc etc.

Well, quick reminder: in George Lucas' script, Anakin refers to the Jedi as his family.

But hey, if "not enough evidence" is a factor, how would we fix that?

PITCH: A five-issue comic book miniseries, featuring self-contained tales of young Anakin's interactions with various Jedi - seen from their POVs - about how they all come around to liking him, only to epilogue each issue with events from Episode III.

Not all of these are fully developed, but just to give you an idea...

Issue #1: Yoda.

Lesson: "letting to of what you fear to lose"

Set only months after Episode I, Obi-Wan is off on a mission, and Anakin is shadowing Yoda, for the day. Both are reluctant...

Yoda is still grappling with Anakin's uncertain future, maybe reeling from Qui-Gon's death and Yaddle's disappearance.

Anakin misses his Mom, and the last conversation he had with Yoda was the elf telling him he shouldn't be scared for his mother (or so Anakin thinks).

Throughout the day, shenanigans ensue.

Yoda takes Ani to a Council meeting and he keeps interrupting by asking Yarael Poof why his neck is so long, or asking Oppo Rancisis if he ever trims his hair. Giggles from all but Yoda.

Yoda mediates a negotiation between Senators and the subject of Malastare podracing comes up, so Anakin hijacks the meeting.

Yoda goes to Thustra to fight off mercenaries for the King and Anakin tags along, seemingly becoming a burden for Yoda.

However, despite their bumpy start (Anakin being a brat and Yoda being a grump) Anakin and Yoda bond and Anakin's input seemingly becomes the key to the mission's success.

Yoda discovers he admires Anakin's outside-the-box thinking and finds kindness deep in his heart. The issue's narrative voice is Yoda talking to Qui-Gon, noting how similar Anakin and Qui-Gon are.

Anakin realizes that Yoda trained the master who trained the master who trained his master... so that makes him his sort of grandpa! That's so wizard!

Once the task at hand is over, Yoda and Anakin have a moment and talk about the idea that Anakin misses his mother.

Yoda comforts Anakin, explaining that his mother let him leave the nest, and in life things come and go, things which they may grow to care for. But as Jedi, they must be able to let go of these attachments, when the time comes.

Anakin asks if Yoda ever lost someone he cared about. Yoda answers that he's almost 900, by now. A lot of loved ones of his came and went. Qui-Gon was one of them. Yaddle, too. Another one (thinking of Dooku)... still hurts to this day.

One day, it'll be up to him to be as strong as his mother, who Yoda adds might've made a wonderful Jedi. And who knows, maybe he'll see her again, once Anakin becomes a Jedi himself.

Anakin smiles.

Epilogue:

Anakin scowls.

We're seeing Yoda's scene with Anakin in Episode III through Yoda's POV. As he did years ago, Anakin still has problems with attachment... but in this case, he doesn't even tell Yoda anything. So Yoda can only give a general answer.

As Anakin refuses to elaborate on his premonitions and leaves, Yoda feels powerless, and can only hope he was able to help this troubled young man who, day after day, reminds him less of Qui-Gon and more of Dooku. Dooku who died yesterday.

Issue #2: Kit Fisto

Lesson: "don't try to be some 'Chosen One', just be yourself"

Anakin undergoes a trial that involves swimming. And he grew up on a desert planet. So of course, he fails. At night, he steals Obi-Wan's breather and sneaks out of their quarters to go to the pool and train.

He puts the breather on wrong and is about to drown but fear not! Jedi Knight Kit Fisto and his dashing smile are here to help!

He shows Anakin how to put his breather on right and shows him how to swim and fight underwater.

Now, this isn't just a pool. It's a pool in the Jedi Temple! So it's filled with a whole lot of marvelous fluorescent flora and fauna, I'm taking Avatar-style stuff.

So the swimming lesson becomes a lesson about the Living Force (who said it should just be Qui-Gon's thing? Lucas certainly didn't), using water as a metaphor.

The overall idea of the issue is that Anakin is concerned... he left his Mom behind, hoping to make her proud, make Qui-Gon proud, make Obi-Wan proud and live up to this expectation of being the Chosen One... but he's struggling at basic stuff like swimming! How's he gonna be this big time Jedi, one day?

Kit reassures Anakin: he shouldn't aspire to be a "Chosen One". All any Jedi should aspire to be is the best version of themselves.

Next day: Anakin passes the trial, Obi-Wan congratulates him, and Anakin completely misinterprets what Kit was telling him in a hilarious way by saying something silly and cocky like: "I just had to remind the water that I'm the best me there is so it better let me float or else."

Which gets an eye roll from Obi and a giggle from Kit.

(BTW, maybe we can have Nadar Vebb help Anakin swim too! Maybe even set him up as passing that trial the first time round with flying colors to contrast with Anakin, maybe he's an antagonist that comes around by the end, I dunno)

Epilogue:

As Mace battles Sidious in the other room, Kit Fisto, still breathing, rises to his feet and takes a few steps, intent on helping his friend despite his wound, but collapses... he's not gonna make it.

He turns around, stares at the ceiling. Is this how it ends?

Anakin appears in his line of sight, looking around at the dead Jedi, shocked. Kit smiles (ROTS novelization reference) as Anakin rushes into the adjacent corridor.

His last thought is the knowledge that everything's going to turn out alright, now that the Chosen One is here.

Issue #3: Mace Windu

Lesson: Control your feelings, don't let them control you.

Simple story. Obi-Wan was captured by a bunch of IG-11 assassins, allowing Anakin to escape and rescue a Senator's daughter. Now, Anakin and Mace are on a mission to get him back.

They make their way through a jungle filled with traps. Anakin is rushing, he's angry at the droids and afraid for Obi-Wan and it's making him do dumb stuff. After it happens a second time, Mace scolds him.

Around a campfire, Anakin apologizes for his impulsive behavior.

Mace comments that it's understandable. He only started being a Jedi, like, 5 years ago. Mastering your emotions isn't an easy thing to do, and in Anakin's case it's twice as hard. Anakin pries: is that why Mace didn't want him to become a Jedi?

Mace hesitates. Then says it, point blank: "yes".

And while he's sorry for being blunt, the fact remains that last week he threatened two of his fellow initiates with a lightsaber to the face.

Anakin points out that they were bullying him because they were jealous of his skill.

Against all expectation Mace smiles and reveals that he can relate to that. His own classmates would bully him for the same reason. You know who'd step in, in that situation? Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon was like a big brother to Mace, always had his back.

After sighing, with a calmer tone, Mace says he'll have a chat with those students. But Anakin needs to double his efforts to keep his feelings under control, lest he become enslaved by them.

The way he went about it was by developing Vaapad. He demonstrates it to Anakin, whose eyes are filled with stars.

Mace concludes that while he did have misgivings, he has faith that Anakin can find the way to do it.

In the morning, Anakin and Mace storm the castle filled with assassin droids. One of the droids sees they're losing and electrocutes Obi-Wan, hoping to unbalance them. Mace orders Anakin to stay focused, Kenobi can take it! And Anakin does!

Once the courtyard is cleared, Mace lifts the remaining droid torturing Obi-Wan with the Force and crushes it into a ball of metal.

As they walk away, Mace lets out a "good work, Skywalker."

Anakin asks Mace if he can teach him Vaapad-- Mace cuts him off with a "Nope".

"C'mooon!"

"Don't push it, Skywalker."

Epilogue:

In the Chancellor's office, Mace reflects the lightning back onto Palpatine's face.

The Sith seems out of commission.

And Mace is scared shitless. He almost died, a few seconds ago. His instinct is to run. He uses shatterpoint, tries to sense the future because Force knows he's got no idea what the hell he should do next. And that's when he sees it:

The various ways Sidious can kill him and Anakin.

Stop Mace's blade mid-air and Force Push them out of a window,

snap their necks with the Force,

crush the crystal in his lightsaber and let it blow up in his face.

Palpatine is faking and there are barely any scenarios in which Mace and Anakin are walking out of this room alive. And even if they do capture him, then

Sidious can bribe judges and Senate officials and supposing that doesn't work either, he can

escape any prison, kill thousands of clones in one night and

set up a new power base, starting from scratch.

This either ends now or the galaxy is doomed.

For a full second, the gravity of it all terrorizes Mace... then he chases his fear and musters his courage.

Anakin argues but Mace knows what he must do. He prepares to end the conflict once and for all, like a true Jedi would.

Anakin argues again, and Mace detects something else. Wait, why is Skywalker scared?

As he falls, Mace realizes the very thing that he feared would happen, a long time ago, has finally come true:

Anakin let his emotions rule him... and it doomed them all.

Issue #4: Shaak Ti

I was thinking for this one, we can have Obi-Wan bring her in as a sparring partner so she can demonstrate Jar'Kai to Anakin.

I haven't thought of a deeper lesson for this one, I just like Shaak Ti, folks, she's awesome :D

If anyone has suggestions, put 'em in the replies.

Epilogue:

(This one will definitely age poorly when The Mandalorian Season 3 comes out tomorrow!)

Order 66 rages as Shaak Ti protects a group of elderly Jedi in charge of the babies. She takes clone after clone down as she escorts them to an escape room the notices one baby left in the infirmary: Grogu.

Suddenly, she senses an overwhelming darkness approaching this wing of the temple. She thinks fast, she takes Grogu, crosses a corridor where 2-3 Jedi are killed (which is what Grogu remembers in the flashbacks)...

... and goes to a meditation room nearby. The shadow closes in and Shaak Ti realizes who it is: Skywalker.

We catch her moments later as she finished recording a message in her Holocron (the one from Star Wars #9)...

"It's up to you now. Don't let our deaths have been in vain. Don't let this be the end of the Jedi."

... then places it in Grogu's pod and hides him in an air vent. She sits on the chair, pretending to meditate.

The door slides open. Anakin enters the room, senses something in the air vent. Shaak Ti realizes he's about to find Grogu and distracts him: "what is it Skywalker?"

He stabs her. She falls.

He picks up her saber as he prepares to engage Cin Drallig and his apprentice with two lightsabers, just as she showed him.

A tear rolls down Shaak Ti's eye.

She looks at the air vent, sees Grogu's wet eyes peer through the grate. At least he's safe.

Issue #5: Obi-Wan

Lesson: Be less cocky, beware of Palpatine, ffs

Obi-Wan and Anakin are on a mission, maybe they're being chased by monsters, maybe it's in the middle of a firefight, maybe Anakin is trying to stop a train.

Bottom line: Anakin gets cocky and tries to do something incredibly stupid, thinking he can pull it off... and almost dies.

Obi-Wan manages to save him, but that hits him like a ton of bricks.

"I almost lost him."

Anakin's justification? Something along the lines of: he told the Chancellor he'd manage to do a triple flip next time he's on a mission, and that he'd try to catch it on a holovid.

So Obi-Wan loses his shit on Anakin, takes his saber and grounds him for a friggin' month.

Privately, he feels guilty. He almost lost Anakin and it would've been on him. His promise to Qui-Gon would be broken, Shmi's sacrifice, wherever she is, would be rendered pointless... and Anakin would be dead.

He talks to Mace and Yoda, who tell him not to blame himself. Obi-Wan takes this to heart and realizes who's to blame.

He goes to see the Chancellor.

And it's awkward af.

Put yourself in Obi-Wan's shoes. How do you tell your boss, the leader of the free world, to back off because he's a bad influence on your kid, in the most diplomatic way possible?

But he somehow manages. He puts his foot down and asks Palps if he wouldn't mind being a bit more hands-off.

Note: for one page, we're on Palpatine as he remembered every time he undermined everybody else's lessons. "Don't listen to Windu, your emotions are what make you human." "Still, a bit heartless of Yoda to not even send someone to free your mother. I'm sure they had their reasons." "Trust me, you're definitely a Chosen One, even if Jedi like Master Fisto don't see it."

Then Palpatine smiles. "Of course!" He even apologizes and agrees to step back for a bit, he understands that he may have inadvertently undermined Obi-Wan's authority. My bad, Master Kenobi. My bad.

Back in Anakin's quarters, Obi-Wan enters and sits next to Anakin on his bed. Silence.

What follows is a scene like this one in The Lion King:

Obi-Wan admits that Anakin really scared him today.

Anakin is sorry, but at the same time, he knew Obi-Wan would be there to save him in case he failed.

Obi-Wan explains that he won't always be able to be there to have Anakin's back. Anakin dismisses that, saying he trusts him.

"As long as we're together, it'll always turn out alright."

Epilogue:

As their dialog from the previous scene continues, Obi-Wan watches as his Padawan, his ward, his brother, his everything for the past 13 years, kneels in front of the Chancellor on a hologram recording.

So yeah, that was my attempt at writing Star Wars ^^' Thank you for making it this far!

Why only 5 issues? Well, it could be 6 issues. Could be 12, released monthly. I focused on 5 because I didn't wanna spend too much time photoshopping collages. Other scenarios could feature:

Saesee Tiin teaches Anakin flying maneuvers and finds he also has much to learn.

Quinlan Vos and Aayla Secura partner up with Obi-Wan and Anakin. Anakin initially finds a kindred spirit in Quin, even wonders if it would be possible for two knights to do a "Padawan swap", but eventually he sees that - as cool and laid back as Master Vos is - maybe he needs a Master who'll give him a bit more structure than the guy who'll let him stay up late.

Anakin and A'Sharad Hett going through a trial together. #Tatooineboys #arooo #kraytdragonsounds

Here's why I wrote these story ideas down:

There'll always be fans who see the Prequel Jedi as corrupt and arrogant, regardless of how much evidence from Canon or Lucas you provide to dispel the notion.

But sometimes, Star Wars transmedia content is used to fix inconsistencies or bolster ideas that were only alluded to in the films, or show a different point of view.

We got this recently with Shadows of the Sith, for example, which helped smooth some plot-holes from the Sequel Trilogy.

Sometimes, the material around the movies manages to re-contextualize and make the characters or the film itself more endearing, to fans. I mean, that's what The Clone Wars did for a lot of Prequel haters.

And I'm just disappointed this approach wasn't used to help the Prequel Jedi's perception among the fandom.

'Cause these are characters that have slowly been reframed as "the corrupt/complacent establishment" by authors who didn't find them likeable when they watched the films, when they were originally supposed to be "the underdogs who're doing their best".

An approach that was being taken during TCW was "let's question whether the Jedi are really all that good and moral and pure".

Nobody ever said they were, it's just that they tried to be their best selves, but whatever, let's play "devil's advocate", sure. Let's get some new points of view.

But skip to almost two decades later, and Star Wars has played "devil's advocate" with the Prequel Jedi so much that seeing them in a negative light is now mainstream.

So, now... how about we explore:

The trauma Mace Windu felt when he was actively seeing people he grew up with get shot to shreds by battle droids on the daily.

The ex-Jedi Knights who come back to the Order to help their former family, instead of focusing on the ones who left.

Rael or Sifo-Dyas calling Dooku out on his ideological bullshit and forcing him to face the fact that he's just a crook who talked himself into betraying his brethren.

The young Padawans whose masters went to Geonosis and never came back.

Plo Koon being attacked by a mob because he "looks evil" and both the Republic and the Separatist's war propaganda reflects badly on the Jedi, framed as “baby-snatching warmongers in their ivory tower”.

How about - instead of focusing on a series set 200 years prior, y'know, Back When The Jedi Were Great™ - we roll up our sleeves and question whether or not the Prequel Jedi were all that bad?

Just a thought.

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figsnpassionfruits · 7 days

Text

Paint Away, My Little Dove - Chapter 6

word count: 2.2k tags: arthur morgan x fem!reader, fluff, kisses, mentions of sa, mentions of death, canon-typical themes, mentions of human trafficking dividers by: @strangergraphics-archive pictures are from pinterest

“What do you think, Arthur?”

Both of you were back at the Heartlands, close to a nearby farm you had seen last time you rode past. Arthur came up with the idea of letting you practice sketching animals. You wanted to include them in your art; it was just that Arthur could not be around all the time to sketch them for you. So, he came up with the idea of teaching you.

He leaned over, eyes scanning over the cow you had sketched. “Aghhh-“ He started. “If I saw a cow like that I would’ve shot if out of pity.”

“Arthur!” You yelped, slapping his arm in a playful way. “You’re horrible.”

“m’sorry, dove. But we gotta keep on practicin’.” Arthur had a big smile on his face, his voice erupting with laughter as he kept teasing you.

Both of you had missed this. Just sitting on the dry grass, a soft blanket underneath you to protect the clothes from the dirt and a can of dried peaches for the missing sweetness in your mouths. After the past few times you had met, it had been nothing but bad news. This? Yea, Arthur had missed this. The joy you would bring him would make him feel young again. Slowly, his doubt was starting to vanish. Maybe the age gap would not mean that he, an older man, was stealing away your youth. Maybe you were just ready to share a chunk of that.

Arthur had allowed you more insight into his life. The morning after your nightmare he had made the decision to tell you about his upcoming. You had poured out your heart to him. It was only fair to you for him to do the same. Thus he started talking about his camp and the people who brought it to life. He told you stories about each of the members and the adventures he had lived through with them; good and bad. It was heartbreaking hearing him talk about the deaths they had to endure at Colter. Arthur was such a good man, always trying to protect and defend his loved ones. Even without all this knowledge, you had a feeling that he was a hard shell with a soft teddy bear inside. On that morning, he proved you right.

Laughter after laughter you had leaned onto one another, shoulders and arms grazing each other each time the sound would fill the air. His deep voice would harmonize pleasantly with your higher one. Gosh, anyone watching from afar would think that you were on your honeymoon.

Without realizing you had bit your lip, drifting your upper body closer to his, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth as you did so.

Arthur had caught on to your motion. His laughter died down along with yours as he analyzed your movements, trying to predict the next. To him, it seemed like you were leaning in for a kiss. Whether you had comprehended it or not, he did not know. Either way, Arthur was not backing up.

Pecks on shoulders, hands, cheeks and foreheads you had done. Touching each other’s lips, however; not.

And so you stopped. In order to come over the awkwardness, you let out a small cough and plucked an imaginary feather from his hair, mumbling something about that it had annoyed you before he replied with a small ‘thanks’ in return.

“So, ehm- when will I get to meet them? Your camp, I mean.” A pitiful attempt at changing the topic, but it was better than silence.

“I don’t know, Y/N. It’d be safer right now not to. You know now what kinda bastards are looking for us. Not the kind to take it easy on folks. I just don’t want you to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

You hummed to his response. He was right. From what Arthur had told you before, the Pinkertons were constantly on their tails, just waiting for the right moments to strike. How the gang dealt with the stress, you could not explain to yourself. But you could relate to being on the run. That feeling of constant anxiety and fear was nothing you would wish on your worst enemy. The toll it could take on someone could end with death. Paranoid people throwing themselves on train tracks or jumping off cliffs was not rare at this time. And no one could blame them. Folks would rather meet death than whatever else life had in store for them.

“What about that Charles? You always speak so highly of him?” You asked, moving loose strands out of the Arthurs face. “I’d just be at ease knowing you’re around someone that I know as well. That’s all.” You explained, softening your voice, hoping to receive a positive response.

Arthur smiled as he put his rough hand on your cheek, covering most of your soft skin with his. “Alright, darlin’.”

Hours after asking more about the social circle around Arthur and poor attempts of drawing various deformed animals on paper, it had become nighttime. Crickets were making their presence known as coyotes barked all over the Heartlands. Sleeping together in a tent was not unknown to you both anymore. Rather, it had become a routine whenever you spent more than a day with each other. Your body knew who was next to you. Therefore, it was not uncommon that you would snuggle his arm in your sleeping state. Arthur was no different either. Every once in a while he would find himself having a meaty arm around your form, squeezing it tighter instead of letting go when he caught himself doing so.

The chirping of the birds and the warm rays of the sun beamed through the thin fabric of your tent. Arthur was usually the first one to be awake. Today it was no different. As you stirred around, humming soft and quiet sounds, Arthur was leaving soft kisses on your forehead, travelling his lips from that very spot to your nose to give its tip a peck as well, refusing to ignore it. As he was roaming his blue eyes over you, he thought about the conversation you had. Arthur wanted to keep you safe. But at the same time, he was refusing to let you get involved with the gang. There was no way he could be at two places at the same time. If you were at Hamish’s, he was either there or not. If you were at the camp, at least someone else could keep an eye on you. Now that Bronte knew you were still alive, you basically had a target on your back. Minutes and minutes passed as Arthur weighed out his options, pondering about what was the right decision to take. Nevertheless, he could not find an appropriate answer. No matter what it would be, he had to hurry finding it. Time was ticking and Bronte was just getting started.

………………………………………………

Arthur was sitting in the wagon along with Dutch, Bill and Hosea. The four were on their way to Angelo Brontes mansion who was hosting some sort of party. The Italian had invited them to join and so Dutch accepted, assuming it would be casual business. Arthur, however, felt different. None of the others could figure out his mood. For them, he just looked extra grumpy today, not knowing the devastating reality behind it. Keeping his cool was something Arthur never had to struggle with. Tonight, oh god, he did not know if he could.

“Y’okay, boy?” Hosea questioned, sensing Arthurs energy deficiency as the rest of them were laughing over the suits they were wearing. Never had they imagined to be dressing fancy like this while being on the run from the Pinkertons.

Arthur nodded, not facing the older man, staring out of the window instead.

Upon arrival, the four removed their weapons and handed them to Brontes guards at the gate. It seemed like an eternity as they strutted through the massive mansion, following a man who was leading them to a balcony a floor or two above to meet with Angelo Bronte.

Once Arthur set his eyes on him, he could not turn away. Every single thing you had told him about what that man did to you was now being envisioned. No matter how hard he tried to block it out, the rage could not be filtered.

Thankfully Dutch took care of the talking.

To calm himself down, Arthur accepted a cigar given to him, bit off the tip and started inhaling the tobacco within. Every word said by Bronte was igniting the fire within him. ‘Why the hell did I agree to this?’

Angelo Bronte had mentioned something about a trolley station that he would allow to be robbed, whatever that meant. Now being able to recognize the Italians false facade, Arthur did not believe him. Not a bit. Dutch however, gave into it right away, making Arthur curse under his breath, just loud enough for himself to hear.

After what felt like hours of torture, the four had managed to act normal and socialize with the rest of the guests. Arthur had poured drinks here and there, Bill succeeded in stealing a letter from the mayor to Bronte and Dutch and Hosea blended in with the high society.

“Dutch, we gotta leave. I’on know how much longer I can stay here without doing anything stupid.” Arthur said to Dutch as he looked around the garden, faking a small smile to the guests passing by.

“Whatchu mean, Arthur?” Dutch questioned, raising a brow at his statement.

“Ain’t you realizin’ what’s happenin’’ here?” Arthur whispered in a quiet, yet harsh voice. “That man was about to traffic little Jack to sick people and out of a sudden we are fine with him. Who knows how many children are involved.”

Dutch let out a sigh as he put a hand on his shoulder. “Arthur, this ain’t our fight. Senior Bronte just offered us to rob a station in the middle of Saint Denis. He is basically handing us money. We gotta take it.”

“The hell it ain’t, Dutch.” Arthur brushed off his hand off him, taking a step back, shaking his head in disbelief at Dutchs words. “This is wrong and ya know it.” Arthur was pointing a finger at him, venom spitting from his tongue with the way he was accusing him.

Just as they were about to leave, Bronte stopped them at the gate, saying his farewells as he watched the outlaws grab their weapons from the chest they had previously placed them in.

“Mr. Morgan!”

Arthur did not look at him. If he did, he did not know what he would have done to that man, if you could even call him that.

Bronte came up to his side, putting a hand on the taller mans shoulder, standing close enough to Arthur so only he could hear his words. “Did you think about my negotiation?”

His touch felt disgusting. If this was under normal circumstances, Arthur would have pushed his slimy hand off and ground pounded him until he was choking on his own blood. But they were on his property. If he would not get pulled off right away, he would have been shot. This was neither the time nor place.

Arthur joined the rest of the gang, letting Brontes hand fall from his shoulder with the large steps he took. He did not even care enough to look back at him as he stepped into the wagon. Arthur was not going to pretend. That man made him sick and he was not going to allow Bronte to believe otherwise.

……………………………………………

Arthur had returned in the middle of the night, declining the thought of letting you sleep by yourself at the camp you both had set up.

The tents dark fabric was flowing along with the slight wind. Arthur pulled the opening apart, seeing your sleeping form rising and falling in the same slow pace. Even after all the anger he had felt, he could not help but crack a lazy smile at your sleeping position. Your hair was all over the place, mimicking a snake attempting to strangle its prey. After taking off his coat, he crouched down to your level, removed your hair from your face before delivering a kiss to your nose once again.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Stirring at his words you gently fluttered open your eyes, smiling at the sight of him. Even if it was late, you did not mind being woken up by Arthur. Especially in this way. “Hi.”

“You sold enough art in Rhodes t’day?” He asked while getting under the covers which you had slightly lifted up for him.

“Mhm.” You nodded. “Enough to get by for some time.”

Arthur mimicked your nod, putting his calloused covered hand underneath his head, placing his other on your waist to pull you closer to his broad torso.

His shoulders were a dream to sleep on. If you had been the slightest bit more tired, you would have already fallen back asleep.

“What was your most expensive sell?”

“Today?”

“Yea.”

You snuggled further into him, intoxicated by his scent as you smiled to yourself. “Fifty-three.”

“Jesus, woman.” Arthur chuckled, pulling you even closer to him. “Tomorrow ya gotta go back to O’Creagh’s, alright? Don’t wanna risk things if someone followed me.”

“M’kay.”

- 🍯

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #paint away #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan fluff

62 notes · View notes

ahdraftingco · 1 year

Text

pairing: hard dom!joel miller x desperate!reader

ao3 crosspost: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44445643

rating: explicit (minors DNI)

word count: 7.8k+

summary: joel is your only hope, unfortunately. you and him aren't on the best of terms…not after you left him for dead during a smuggling run. but, he's the only one you can turn to when there's no one left in your life that gives a fuck, so you swallow your pride and ask for help from the man who hates your guts.

a/n: as always please read through ALL the warnings before proceeding: porn with plot, **dubious consent**, hard dom!joel miller, enemies to lovers, heavy angst (be ready for feels!), age gap, jealousy, possessive behavior, size difference, breaking and entering, use of the words "sir"/"princess", dom/sub undertones, death threats, degradation, spit, praise kink, forced orgasms, squirting, spanking, bdsm, choking, knife play, unprotected piv, breeding kink, body worship, minor injuries/scars, hair-pulling, alcohol mention, drug abuse (sleeping pills), hurt/comfort, no use of y/n

enjoy this little one-shot I whipped up in the moment! it's been raining and I love the idea of being stuck in the rain with nowhere else to go except to your worst enemy's home ;) have a fun read!

｡ﾟ🌨｡ﾟ｡⋆ ﾟ petrichor (n.): the earthy scent produced when rain falls on dry soil ｡ﾟ🌨｡ﾟ｡⋆ ﾟ

You're about to do something very stupid. Though, it's not like that's atypical for you. You're used to doing impulsive things, but this…this is just downright idiotic.

Breaking into Joel Miller's apartment in the middle of a hurricane may take the cake of shit you really should not do in your lifetime. You reason to yourself that you'll hide there until you dry off and then you'll find some other place to fuck off to. He should be asleep so you'll have at least a few hours if he took the pills. He loves those pills. They're the only thing that will get him to sleep.

You remember being on the road with him, out to pick up the very pills he was used to taking and smuggling them back. To think, he actually lived after you left him for dead. In your defense, you're younger and the moment those slavers caught up to him, you weren't going to stop running in hopes of saving him.

You both were only business partners, anyways. You were the liaison, he was the muscle. That's all you were. Nothing else.

Even the few times you both were bored out of your minds, waiting for a contact, the sex was to kill time. It wasn't bad, but there wasn't any feeling in it. Neither of you can feel much. You've lost enough and so has he. You both kept your distance from getting too close and that's why it worked, your little partnership.

That is, until you left him for dead.

Ever since he managed to get back, you haven't taken a single big smuggling job. You've completely cut yourself from the network because you don't want to deal with the wrath of Joel Miller. You settled for solo trips between cities to deliver smaller items, like letters between loved ones. The work didn't pay well and it was dangerous, but it was all you could do in the meantime.

You heard Joel was heading out of town for some job and he won't be back for a long while. That'll be when you can reintegrate yourself into the smuggling scene, without the fear of being murdered by him.

You've spent so much time avoiding him, and now you're about to throw all that away because you're fucking freezing your ass off in the pouring rain and you need a place to go that isn't flooded. All your usual spots are filled to the brink with water and you haven't had your own place in quite some time. Rent is too expensive and you don't need a space to call your own anyways.

Back to the matter at hand, this isn't the first time you've snuck into Joel's apartment.

You've done it three times.

The first time, it was to steal some of his booze. It was a long day with no pay at the end of it because your contact fucking cheaped out and got killed so you needed a drink and you weren't going to ask him for one. Steal first, beg for forgiveness later, though he never did find out.

The second time, you needed some pills. Sure, you could buy your own, or pocket a few on your runs, but you knew Joel kept the good shit for himself, so you snatched some and replaced them with counterfeits. They weren't going to kill him. Or, well, they didn't. You weren't actually sure if they were safe or not, but at that moment, you didn't really care.

People die all the time. What's one more death?

As for the last time you snuck into his apartment…it's the reason why you would never want to do it again. It didn't feel good. You can't explain it but you forgot why you were there in the first place the moment you saw Joel and Tess together. You watched from the fire escape outside the bedroom window as Joel held her more tenderly than he has ever held you. You wondered then if she meant something to him.

You wondered then if you ever meant something to him.

Maybe that's why you left him for dead. He didn't need you. He had Tess. You had no one but yourself to protect.

You hope—prayed—Tess wasn't there now. You don't know what you'd do if she was.

Could you still sneak in, or would seeing them together again break you once more?

You don't understand why it pains you as much as it does. Envy, you think, that must be it. You envy that Joel has someone he can hold like that, someone who can hold him like that, while you're all alone, cold and soaked in the rain.

You're sick and tired of this fucking rain, so you decide to say fuck it and sneak in.

If Tess is there, so be it. You'll live. Maybe.

With a quick spin of your lockpick, you easily get the bathroom window open, sliding quietly inside. The apartment is still and silent, so you're certain they're asleep if they are here. You take the moment to strip your clothes off, half because they're wet beyond salvageability, half because they'll be too loud for you to sneak into Joel's closet to take some spare clothes.

You dry yourself off with what you assume must be his towel because it smells musky with a hint of cigarettes and whiskey. You then make your way out of the bathroom, opening the door as slowly as you can so that it doesn't creak. It's fucking cold since you're completely naked, but you fight back the shivers as you tiptoe into the living room.

You hold in a sigh of relief when you see the bed is empty and Joel is asleep, alone, on the couch with an empty glass of whiskey on the table near him. He's knocked out. You should be fine for a few hours, like you predicted.

You still keep your guard up, being as stealthy as possible as you rummage through his closet for something to wear. You manage to find a shirt and some sweats that fit you decently and socks. You're very thankful for the socks.

Now, all you have to do is decide where you're going to hole up for the next few hours. You contemplate laying underneath the bed. You doubt Joel will check there for any reason and that way, you could maybe get some sleep since you'd be on your back. But, it's a bit too risky.

You could hang out in the closet, but he might need to look through it, so that's not the best option. Same goes for the bathroom. You'd have to be ready in case he needs to piss.

So, you throw the idea of sleep out the window. You just need a place to chill and not get caught.

Easier said than done, because the moment you decide to hide in the bathroom closet, arms wrap around your body and slam you to the hallway floor.

You spit out the word "fuck" as you try to get yourself back up, but then you feel a knife press against your neck, sobering you up from the pain real fast. Joel holds you down with his entire body, consuming you completely as he towers over you like a wild beast.

"Don't fucking move or I'll slit your throat, princess." Joel's southern accent has such a bite to it that you get more goosebumps than when you were cold.

"Alright." You stay completely still as you tell him, "I just need to stay until the rain stops, then I'll go. I won't bother you again, Joel. I promise."

"You've done enough bothering as it is." There's a tinge of anger in his tone and you know why it's there. "Why are you even here? Ain't you got somewhere else to be?"

You slowly shake your head then admit, "I had nowhere else to go. Everywhere's flooded."

"What happened to your place?" He knew you back when you had one. Probably assumed you still had it.

"Couldn't afford to keep living there. Haven't had a place of my own in a while." You don't know why you're being honest to him, but you're hoping it'll build some rapport so that he'll get off of you. "Will you please put the knife away?"

"You aren't in a position to make demands." He presses the knife further into your neck with those words, the blade cutting into you just enough for you to really feel it. "You've got some fucking nerve, breaking into my place and stealing my clothes."

"I'm sorry, Joel." You're starting to feel the air sting the cut on your neck and you bite back a wince as you plead, "I really didn't have anywhere else to go. I just wanted to get out of the rain. You weren't even supposed to know I was here."

"You think I didn't know?" It sounds like you've ticked him off more with that. "I've let you steal from me enough times, but this time, you aren't getting away with it, princess."

This is news to you. "You…knew?"

"You don't think I keep track of my whiskey and my pills?" He scoffs, irritated that you thought he wasn't going to notice.

Then what about…you don't ask. You can't bring yourself to.

If he knew you were there when he was with Tess, then Joel did it on purpose. He wanted you to see them together. He wanted you to suffer and yearn for a moment you could never have. Fucking asshole.

"You had plenty and you know it's hard for me to get shit." You retort, not allowing him to act so high and mighty. "They don't give a fuck about selling you alcohol or drugs because you're just a dying old man."

Right when you finish your sentence, Joel tosses the knife aside and before you can stop him, both of his hands wrap around your throat and press down hard. You gasp for air as he starts strangling you. You reach up with your hands, clawing at his arms, trying to get him the fuck off you, but he's so much stronger than you. He always has been.

"Is that all I ever was to you? A dying old man?" He spits in your face out of pure anger, making you flinch. "Is that why you left me there? Because you figured I'd be dead soon anyways, so why fucking bother? Do you know what those slavers did to me?"

You blink back tears, not from the pain of being choked out, but because you knew. You heard what happened to Joel. How they used him as their punching bag. How they forced him to kill people for them in the most sadistic ways. How they stripped away the last shred of humanity left in him before he found the strength to slaughter them all.

"I'm sorry." You breathe out meekly. "I'm so sorry…"

"No, you ain't." Joel releases you from his grip then, allowing you to breathe.

You swallow as much air as you can through your bruised neck. Every breath hurts but you're too desperate for air to care. Then, you start to sob because it's all too much.

"I shouldn't have left you, Joel." You confess everything to him in a moment of weakness. "I should've stayed and fought them, but I was scared of getting caught by them. I know what they do to women like me…and I just…I couldn't…I'm sorry. I fucked up. I should've—"

"Get your ass up." Joel snaps his fingers and you listen to him all too reflexively, standing up beside him. "Now go over to the bed and bend over."

Your throat goes completely dry and you want to protest but…

"Listening to me right now is what you should do." He makes it clear that he won't repeat himself.

So, you quickly run over to his bed and do as you're told, bending over so that your stomach is on the bed but your feet are planted in the ground. It's humiliating, having your ass up like this and not being able to see Joel staring at you.

That's the point, you figure, since he goes, "now kick off your pants and spread your legs again just like that."

You freeze because…you really don't want to do that since you aren't wearing anything underneath. He doesn't like your hesitation at all.

Suddenly, you feel him yank you up by your hair and he yells straight in your face, "do as I say or I'll hurt you worse than those slavers would have."

Joel finishes his threat by spitting in your face and you whimper in fear, nodding your head to show him you understand before you strip off your pants. He lets go of your hair and your face drops back onto the bed as your legs spread with your ass up, completely naked from the waist down.

"Now, present to me." He demands fiercely. "Use your hand and show me your pussy."

You squirm, mainly out of embarrassment. You've never done anything like this before. It's degrading, dipping your dominant hand between your legs so you can hold open your folds so he can see all of you. You can't even tell where he's looking because he's directly behind you.

Then, you let out a shocked gasp when you feel him spit right on your clit. It's wet and warm and you should feel uncomfortable but it tingles in the weirdest way. You shouldn't want any of this, but your pussy is starting to ache uncontrollably.

"Poor little princess." Joel mocks you as his fingers trail along your bare ass. "It looks like it's been a while since someone's used this hole of yours."

He isn't wrong, as humiliating as it is to admit. You've been on a dry spell since you left him for dead. You just couldn't bring yourself to have a fling, not with all the guilt. It's hard to get turned on when your thoughts won't stop haunting you.

It makes you wonder why you're feeling the heat rise in your body despite it all. You're almost certain you're getting wet. It's more than just his spit between your legs and that haunts you in a totally different way.

"Tell me the truth." He addresses himself like he used to when the two of you would fuck. "Has no one touched you recently?"

You take in a deep breath before you answer, "no one, not even myself."

"Why?" He asks, his fingers slowly making their way down the line of your ass, brushing along all of your sensitive skin with his rough fingertips.

"I-I couldn't." You feel ashamed saying this but you do anyways, "I didn't want to feel good."

"Is that why you've been taking those shitty courier jobs?" His words surprise you.

Has Joel…been keeping tabs on you?

"Someone has to do them."

"Enough people have died doing them." He tells you as you feel a finger teasing your entrance. You quiver at his touch, stunned at how it contrasts with his words, "do you want to die, my princess?"

You press your lips together and then, when you can't seem to hold it in anymore, you whisper, "yes, sir."

His finger slips inside of you right then and your toes curl. It feels foreign because it's been a while but so familiar because it's Joel. Your body leans into the feeling as he grinds his finger against your g-spot.

"Now, why would the girl who left this old man to die want to die now?" He asks as he bends over on top of you, engulfing you in his body. His hot breath lingers on your ear when he whispers, "are you scared to be alive in a world where I'm not dead?"

Joel digs another thick finger inside of you, spreading you wide open. You bite the comforter, trying to ease the sudden mix of pain and pleasure that's coursing through your body.

"Answer me." He commands, grabbing you by the hair once again so he can yank you up, pulling you away from the hold you had on the blanket with your teeth.

You don't know what to say. It's hard to think when he's stirring your insides like this while he taunts you for your past actions. You're a mixture of guilty and aroused right now.

Your mind is so foggy which is why you start mumbling out your thoughts without a filter, "I'm not afraid of you, Joel. I don't mind if you hurt me for what I've done to you. I deserve it. I deserve…all of it, even death. It should've been me. I don't have anyone to live for. At least you had Tess so—"

Maybe mentioning her name is what got him mad, but Joel cuts you off from speaking by roughly fingering you faster. Your legs start to wobble as your orgasm builds, your body threatening to collapse in on itself. You can't say another word because every breath is occupied by a moan or a gasp for air.

"Cum." Joel is stern and his fingers are unyielding. "Cum your fucking brains out, princess."

Your orgasm spills out like a broken dam the moment he thrusts side to side, forcing your body to convulse inwards. He catches you before you collapse entirely, guiding you onto his lap. There, he wraps his arms around you, holding you as you navigate every wave of sheer intensity surging through you.

You lean on him with your head buried in the crook of his neck, and Joel gently rubs your back, helping you calm down. Maybe that's why you feel secure enough to cry. You latch onto him and you just sob everything out, needing to release all the feelings built up inside of you since the moment you found out he'd never be yours.

"I didn't want to leave you." You breathe out softly in between your tears. "I didn't want to admit that I was jealous of you and Tess. I didn't want to deal with it, with the fact that I was really all alone and you weren't. It's selfish but…I liked that you had no one else because it meant you were like me. When that wasn't the case anymore, I just…I panicked and ran and I left you for dead. I'm sorry, Joel. I'm so sorry. It's all my fault."

Your heart aches so terribly now that the pleasure has washed out of your system. It felt good to be touched by him again, even if it was under these circumstances. But, that fear creeps back in, the fear that he'll never touch you again, and you hold onto him tighter because of it, not wanting to let go.

"Come here." He whispers, nudging you until you're straddling his lap. Then, he taps on his shoulder and instructs, "bite."

You nod, listening to his orders, wondering if he even heard anything you just said. You pool the fabric of his shirt in your mouth, holding it with your teeth. You keep your head buried in his neck, unable to look at him after everything you confessed.

That's okay, though. He doesn't need to see your face. Not for what's about to happen.

You fully understand the moment you feel his cold hand grip your ass. He's keeping you steady for a reason.

"No screaming." He warns and you nod, bracing yourself by biting down a bit harder.

The first spank is a test. It's not hard, but it's not light either. You squirm after he smacks your ass and unconsciously, your body grinds up against him. You realize then that he's hard underneath you, his cock bulging right through his sweats.

Now, you're biting back a moan.

"Good girl." He praises you for keeping quiet but then switches to a more sinister tone. "Now, I won't stop until you've been thoroughly punished. Do you understand, princess? Let me hear it."

You let go of his shirt from your mouth, shocked that it's already soaked in your drool, so you can answer, "yes, sir."

Before you can get the fabric stuffed back in your mouth, Joel slaps you hard on the ass and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from screaming. You hold in your whines and he rewards you by gently kneading your sensitive skin, easing you through the pain.

"I treat you well, don't I?" He asks and you nod in response, which is why he allows you the time to bundle his shirt back into your mouth. Then, he whispers, almost too quietly for you to catch, "then why did you run from me?"

Another smack connects with your ass and you quiver all over from the suddenness. You can feel how wet you've gotten because you've soaked his sweats, his cock pressing wet fabric up against your bare pussy. You want him inside of you. You can't resist it when you're right up against him like this.

But, you don't deserve it. You don't deserve him, not after what you did. So, you grip onto his back tightly with your hands, preparing yourself to endure whatever he wants to do to you.

"Lift your hips." He pushes you upwards until you're no longer fully sat on his lap. "Now strip."

You don't protest, pulling away from him once more so you can tug your shirt off, tossing it on the floor. You don't even remember being cold, not when your entire body is on fire right now.

You watch as Joel scans every inch of your skin with his eyes, swallowing you up in his intense gaze. Then, when he has had his fill of looking at you, he demands, "show me that pussy of yours."

As much as it kills you to do so, because the sheer thought sends heat through every inch of your skin, you lean back and use your hand to spread your folds to give him what he wants. It's hard to hold this position, but that's the point. He wants you to suffer both physically and mentally. It's what you deserve so you submit to it.

"Look at your clit." His rough fingers brush against that bundle of nerves, rippling shockwaves through you. "It's begging to be touched with how swollen it is."

You swore, you could feel more of your slick drip out onto your fingers when he said that. There's something in the way he draws you in with his words that forces your body to respond. It aches for him, truly.

"Tell me what you want, princess." He teases your inner thighs, drawing circles there as he waits for your reply.

You shouldn't say a word. You shouldn't want anything because you can't have it.

But, you can't resist telling him, "I miss the way your mouth feels."

That's the first time you see Joel smile all night. It's a light smirk, but a grin nonetheless.

"Did you like the way I'd eat your pussy when we needed to kill time?" His words spark so much desire in you as the memories flood your mind.

It was lazy, the way Joel would rest with his head between your legs, spending hours exploring you with his tongue out of sheer boredom. Half the time, it was less for pleasure and more for comfort. It helped you sleep. It helped him sleep. Why? Neither of you knew, but if it worked, you both kept it up.

"I liked it more than I should have." You whisper quietly into the night, hoping your words will be washed away from the heavy rain pouring outside.

Suddenly, Joel tosses you onto your back on the bed and then buries his face between your legs. You gasp, not expecting to feel his warm tongue on your clit so soon, but he's impatient. You grab onto his hair as he swirls his tongue just the way you used to like it, making your mind all fuzzy from delight.

"If you keep doing that…I'm going to…" You clamp your hand over your mouth, silencing yourself because you know it won't do you any good. He's not listening, anyways.

You stifle your moans in your palm as Joel keeps ravaging your pussy. You can feel your orgasm building and it's a big one. You're going to explode and it scares you.

You want to tell Joel to stop because you won't be able to handle it. You can't live with the thought of how good it feels to have him touch you like this. It's too much. Maybe that's why the tears pool up in your eyes.

"I can't." You try to push him away, begging him, "please, Joel, we can't do this…"

You can feel how close you are and it's taking every bit of your strength to edge yourself. You need to hold it in. You can't cum. You can't…because he isn't yours.

This all ends tonight and you can't bear more memories of this. You avoided him for a reason…and now it's hitting you at full force.

You feel something for Joel. You wouldn't call it love, but it's something. It's meaningful enough that it scares the living fuck out of you.

"Please, stop." You shove at him, needing him to listen but he won't so you have to say what you must, even if it breaks your heart, "what about Tess? What would she do if she found out–"

"Shut up." He's quick with his retort, silencing you. "She has nothing to do with this, with us."

There is no us. You want to tell him that but it hurts too much to admit.

So, instead, you confess something else, "I saw you, before our run. You made love to Tess. You held her more tenderly than you've ever held me. You can't…you can't throw that away. Please, Joel. Don't ruin a good thing."

"Fucking hypocrite." He curses at you, his southern accent peaking as he growls back at you, "you're the one who ruined a good thing. You're the one who slept with my fucking brother and now you're lecturing me about fucking someone else?"

You blink, stunned that Joel knows about that. It was a while ago. A long while ago. Maybe the third time you met Tommy. You both got drunk and slept together. It wasn't a big deal. It wasn't anything special. It was just a drunken one night stand that never happened again but you told Tommy that you both needed to keep it from Joel. It would just be better if he didn't know and Tommy agreed…

So, what changed? Did Tommy have a change of heart and tell Joel?

Joel confirms it. "Tommy told me everything. Said he needed to confess his sins after he married his wife. And here I thought…"

There's an expression on Joel's face that you can't quite parse. It's not anger. It's not resentment. It's just…pain.

Heartbreak.

You and Joel went to Tommy's wedding, since it was a stop on the way to one of the hubs you both had a job at. He made you dress up, which you never do but you did because it was a wedding and you'd never been to one before. You spent that night with Joel, shared a dance, talked about life before the outbreak. You were young when it happened, so you practically grew up in this world, knowing very little of the world before.

The night came and went in a flash. You and Joel had stayed up, just mindlessly chatting together. You remember calling him handsome because you'd never seen him in a suit before.

You had shoved the memory of him kissing you gently on the cheek before telling you to go rest for the day, since you both had to head out soon. It was a soft peck but it…it was unlike anything he'd done before. It was almost romantic and you couldn't fall asleep with that on your mind.

Joel mentioned nothing of it when you both left Tommy's place. He didn't really talk much for the rest of that job. He did, however, fuck you roughly every now and then on the road.

Boredom, he claimed. He liked toying with his submissive little princess.

When you both got back, he got close with Tess and then you caught them sleeping together and the rest was history…right?

Wrong.

"I knew you were there." Joel climbs on top of you then so that he can look down on you, seeing how much smaller you are than him. He wants to be powerful because his words make him feel weak. "I knew you were watching me and Tess so I fucked with you. I wanted to make you jealous. I wanted to get back at you for fucking my brother behind my back. I wanted…I wanted you to feel something for me, but you didn't. You just left me there to die. You didn't give a fuck about me and I should've realized that sooner before I gave a fuck about you."

"What…" You're in total disbelief.

Did Joel really fuck Tess like that because of some kind of jealous vendetta? He wanted you to yearn for his love and that was the only way he could show it because he was scared you didn't want it.

"Joel, I–"

He cuts you off to ask, "did I really mean nothing to you? I let you steal my booze. I let you steal my pills. I let you steal my fucking heart and you left me to die."

You choke on your own inhale then, the guilt consuming you. You know you shouldn't have left him. You know you should've fought and tried to save him. You know…but you were afraid and selfish and running from more than just your feelings for him.

"You meant too much to me." You speak the truth into the night because you need him to know it. "And that scared me. I never felt that way about anyone before and…and I thought I was all alone in it. I was angry because I thought you could be happy without me. I was sad because I didn't want you to be with Tess. I left you…because I didn't know how I'd live if I had to come back and watch you live a life with someone else that wasn't me. I'm sorry, Joel. I'm so fucking sorry…"

You feel tears streaming down your face, but they aren't yours. They're hitting your nose, dripping down your cheeks and onto your lips. They're hot and salty. Nothing like the cold, crisp rain outside.

And, they're coming from Joel of all people.

This hardened, soulless smuggler is crying in front of you because of you.

These tears are for you, right?

"I told myself if I made it out of there alive that I'd kill you." His words send chills down your spine even if his eyes are spilling tears. "I told myself that the only reason I needed to live was to get back at you for leaving me in the dust. But then, I came back and…you were doing worse than me. I didn't even think that was possible, but I watched you. You tried your hardest to avoid me, but I still found ways to keep an eye on you and…you would've let yourself wither away over this. My beautiful princess would've let the light die inside of her because of me. Am I right?"

You close your eyes, pinching them shut because seeing him sad is too much for you. It's hardly believable that he's sad over you.

Has he really been watching you waste away? Would he have…wanted to help?

Is that why he hasn't kicked you out of his place? Is that why he wanted to make you feel good?

"I didn't think I deserved to be happy after what I did to you."

You open your eyes then but immediately close them when you feel Joel's lips on yours. Out of necessity, you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your hands in his hair, pulling him close to you. You and Joel rarely kissed, and it never felt like this.

There's such a desperation in it, where both of you just have to be connected, sharing breaths and space in each other's mouths.

"I haven't been happy without you." Joel breathes out onto your lips when he pulls away. "I wanted to be with you. That's why Tommy told me. It's because I told him how much I wanted you and he couldn't keep it a secret any longer."

"He was worried I didn't feel the same." You gather that to be the case and he nods in agreement.

"And I thought he was right, until now." Joel cups your face in his hands, carefully wiping away the tears from your cheeks as he explains, "I was so angry with you, but it hurt more not having you by my side. I thought I lost you forever. The only reason I had the strength to come back was for you."

"Joel…" You can't help but pull him in for a hug, sobbing into his shoulder, "don't let me go. I don't want to be alone anymore. Please let me stay here."

"Until the hurricane ends?" He asks, the nerves apparent in his tone.

You shake your head against his chest and then promise, "until you want to kill me for what I've done."

He chuckles lightly at that and nods. "Deal."

You smile at him then and you realize that's the first time you've smiled all night. It warms your heart and you lean up, giving Joel a kiss on the cheek like he had done at Tommy's wedding.

"Let's get you under the covers." He must notice that you're getting cold so he helps you get warm, bundling the comforter over the two of you. "Have you been cold without me?"

You feel embarrassed that he'd ask something like that, mainly because you know he's prompting you to say, "it's always warmer snuggling up with you, sir."

"Good girl, still knowing who she belongs to." Joel must be very happy about that because he slowly sinks his way under the covers until he's back between your legs. "Now, is my precious princess going to cum for me this time?"

"Yes." You assure him that you won't hold back.

"Ask politely." He's demanding and it shoots such a thrill through you to see him like this again.

"Will you please make me cum, sir?" You chew on your lip right after you say that, trying to hold in your shyness.

"Only if you don't hold in your voice. I rarely get to hear you be vocal, so I want you to be now."

You hadn't realized how used to being quiet you were in bed. Holding in your moans was a necessity since you and Joel normally fucked out in the open and rarely behind closed doors. This wouldn't be the first time you've gotten to be loud, but it would be the first time you can really let yourself drown in the pleasure.

"Please hurry, then." You grip onto his messy hair, urging him to continue. He smiles at your impatience and doesn't keep you waiting much longer.

Your eyes roll back when Joel's lips wrap around your clit, giving it a light suck. It's like all the air has escaped your lungs because you can't breathe anymore. His beard scratches at your inner thighs and it makes you want to grind on him more. You just want to remember this feeling.

You want him to etch himself into your mind and body completely.

"I love it when you ride my face like that, darlin'." The term of endearment rolls off his tongue before he dips lower, teasing your aching pussy with the tip.

"Please." You hate that he's stalling. You're wriggling at his soft touch, at the way he dips his tongue so casually inside of you. He knows it's not enough to get you off.

Joel relishes in the control he has over you. He might be smothered between your thighs but he's in charge of the pace. He gets to choose if he wants to give you what you need and you love every second of it.

That's why when he finally eats you out the way you've been craving, you gush out uncontrollably when you're taken over the edge. Your breaths are all raspy and your mind is trying to catch up with the pleasure that's searing every inch of your body.

Joel licks his lips with a grin, proud that he made you squirt with just his mouth. You cover your face at the sight of him, timid because you haven't cum that hard in quite some time.

"Can you handle more or will you give out on me too early?" He asks as he pulls off his shirt, showing off the body you've been missing.

Though, you can't seem to answer his question when you see the new scars on his chest. There are…so many…and it's obvious they were left to fester because the scars are like spiderwebs of pink and red. Your hand unconsciously reaches up and Joel takes your hand, pulling it towards him so you can lay your palm on the scar closest to his heart.

"I-I did this." You stammer your words, your nerves heightening at the thought of what pain Joel went through. "You got hurt because of me. I-"

"It's in the past." He holds your hand securely, as if to ground you back into reality. "Don't think about that anymore."

"Can I touch you then?" You press your hand into him more, wanting him to switch places with you. "Please, Joel. Let me so I can forgive myself."

You can sense he's afraid in his own way. It's obvious neither of you have sought comfort for what had happened between you two, so opening up to that now is difficult. But, Joel nods slowly and then pulls you onto him, having you straddle him once again.

For the next hour, you kiss every inch of his body. Your hands trail along every scar, old and new, and you whisper quiet affirmations to him, telling him that you appreciate him and his resilience. You apologize here and there, even though he tells you not to, but it isn't for him. You need it more than he does and he understands that soon enough.

"You're so…beautiful." Joel tells you when you come up to him for a kiss. "It makes me wary that you want to be here with a man like me."

"I think you forgot that I'm the one who broke into your house." You say with a smirk and he lets out a hearty laugh.

"What would you have done if I didn't find you?" He wonders aloud, so you think for a moment.

A part of you thinks you chose Joel's place because you wanted to get caught. It would be the only way you could get yourself to talk to him again, after all.

With a chuckle, you tell him, "I think I would have woken you up. You've never been a heavy sleeper. Plus, I know you stopped taking the pills."

"How do you know that?" He's curious.

"You always ween off them before a trip and I know you've got a big one coming up." You don't shy away from the fact that you've been keeping tabs on him too. "I…heard you're taking Tess."

"It was either her or go alone, since I didn't have you anymore." He says as his hand comes up to caress your face. "Would it be wrong of me to ask you to go with me instead?"

"What's the job?" You ask, leaning into his touch.

Joel adjusts until you're both facing one another side by side so that his hands can idly run along your skin while he explains, "Marlene has some kind of cargo she needs transported."

"You're working with the Fireflies?" You're surprised to hear that.

"I ain't, I just need what they're willing to give me so I can get to Tommy." That makes a lot more sense.

"I heard you've been looking for him." You bribed the radio man for that information a few days ago, actually.

"Mhm." Joel nods, his hand slipping between your legs then, getting distracted.

You part your legs so that he has better access and he smiles at you when you do. His hand dips deeper, his fingertips teasing your entrance as his palm rests on your clit. He won't go any further than this. Not right now.

Not unless you give him a reason to. "Make me cum again and I'll go with you. Tess can tag along if you think we need the extra body."

"Are you telling me you wouldn't be too shy to fuck in front of Tess?" He dips two of his fingers into you when he says that and you have to hold back your gasp. "You'd be too horny not to. Isn't that right, my greedy princess?"

"Yes, sir." You roll your hips against his hand, needing him to knead your clit with his palm. "I wouldn't care. I'd let you do anything you wanted to me, wherever, whenever."

"Tess won't be tagging along." Joel tells you as he grabs your face with his free hand, lifting your chin to meet his fearsome gaze. "No one gets to see you look like this but me. Understood?"

"I understand." You say with a nod so he drags his thumb across your lip before pushing it into your mouth. You swirl your tongue along his calloused finger and then let it rest there with your lips wrapped around it.

"My princess. All mine. Every hole of yours is mine to fill." He curls his fingers inside of your pussy, rubbing up against your g-spot once again. "Do you like being mine?"

You don't even respond. Instead, your hand sneaks down and pulls his hard cock out from his sweats, needing to feel him. You gently stroke him up and down as he starts to thrust his fingers inside of you, making you wish it was his cock instead.

"You drive me crazy." He lets out a low growl before he topples you over, smacking your hand away from him. He pulls his fingers out of you then and rubs all of your slick onto his cock, the wet sounds filling the air.

It's erotic and hot, watching how his cock throbs for you.

That's why you slip your hand down and spread yourself wide open like he has made you do all of tonight and tell him, "take what's yours, Joel."

He doesn't wait a second longer. You're ill-prepared for him to slam every inch of his cock inside of you, but the moment he hilts, you swear you could've cum right there.

The way he fills you up is perfect. Thick, hot and hard, curving inside of you at the perfect angle to rub every inch of your pussy the way it needs to be.

You're already swimming in ecstasy just having him sit inside of you like this, but then he starts to move and it's all over. You cum hard, clenching around his cock. Sparks tingle on your skin and you can't help but want so much more.

"Fuck, you feel so good, princess." He grunts, gripping onto your hips to steady himself. "I shouldn't fuck you raw like this, though."

"I don't care." You should, but you've always been a bit reckless so you wager, "I won't forgive you if you pull out right now."

"Someone wants me to bury my seed deep inside of her." He leans down then, his eyes locking on yours as he goes, "if you want me to fuck you until you're pregnant, all you have to do is beg."

You do so without hesitation, "please fill me up with your cum, sir."

He's glad to hear it, which is why he responds, "I'm going to drown your pussy until it's leaking out over my cock and then I'll do it again, and again, as many times as it takes, my little princess."

Joel drags his hand across your stomach and rolls his hips, like he wants to feel the way his cock is stirring you up inside. You're tightening up so much because it's been so long since you've been filled like this. It aches in the best kind of way, that pleasure of being split in two by him.

When he starts to go faster, rougher, it's hard for you to edge yourself. You can't count the number of times you must have cum before he finally did. It drips out of you like a flood as he slowly pulls out.

Though, right when you think he's going to slip away entirely, Joel shoves his cock back inside of you, making your toes curl uncontrollably. You crave more already and he's well aware.

That's why when he does finally pull his cock out of you, his fingers replace it. You don't stop him from forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you until he's hard enough to fuck you once more.

How could you say no to a man like Joel Miller?

Somewhere along the way, you and Joel take naps together and eat small meals before fucking again. You can't get enough of him. You don't ever want to let him go again.

You want to stay by his side forever.

"The hurricane will be over soon." Joel notes the lighter rainfall outside. "We'll have to leave soon for the job."

"Does that mean we should sleep or…" You chuckle at your own joke and Joel presses a kiss on the top of your head before laughing lightly with you.

"Just promise you won't leave me for dead again." He tells you and you know he's never going to let you live that down.

"I'll think about it." You say with a cheeky grin and Joel retaliates by pinning you down onto the bed, glaring at you.

He's going to devour you for that and you're thoroughly ready to be swallowed whole.

Oh, how you love such a dangerous man…

a/n: this was really fun to write! I'm sure you noticed, but this oneshot kind of acts like a possible prologue to a canon-divergent series where you replace Tess on Joel's trip with Ellie. will I actually write a whole series? who knows! but I think a little prequel like this would be a nice dabble into the idea! should I write it? hehe

if you enjoyed this read, maybe you'll enjoy my other joel oneshot: trouble! thanks again for reading ~

#joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel x reader #the last of us #joel miller

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bonefall · 4 months

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Talk and/or rant about why you like Bumble from DotC please?

Bumble makes me want to cry. Her story is just... heartbreaking. She's one of the sweetest, most honest characters in the entire series, and the way she is abused by Tom the Wifebeater and denied asylum by the Moor Cats, then murdered for Clear Sky's arc, genuinely makes me feel sick.

But I've talked about that before. Many, many times. Let me celebrate her brief life for this one post, just covering her during The Sun Trail. Her first appearance in Book 2 where Clear Sky murders her, Thunder Rising, is the start of the scene that begins her slow, agonizing death.

I don't only love her out of spite for how she died; I love her because she was a wonderful, warm, confident character, and an excellent friend. She provided relief from the agonizing Settler group, who are insufferably angsty and controlling of each other, and most importantly, space away from Turtle Tail's awful friend, Gray Wing.

The closer that Bumble gets to Turtle Tail, the more confrontational Gray Wing becomes. He starts to hate Bumble, as if she's stealing his Plan B while he spends all the rest of his time with Storm. I'm convinced that the writers (and the fandom sometimes <_<) believe that this is "compelling romantic drama" which makes Turtle x Gray sweeter when it finally happens, but it just makes me feel like TurtleGray is the Bad Ending for every woman character involved.

After a brief appearance as she witnesses the Settlers arrive on the moor, the very first time we get to meet Bumble is when Gray Wing and Turtle Tail are hanging out on some sunny rocks. She's cheerful, outgoing, and curious, wanting to get to know her new neighbors.

Gray Wing, the POV character, immediately makes an incorrect assumption about her weight, thinking she won't be able to climb. She can, just fine, and she plays an Uno Reverse card on how skinny they are lmao

First thing out of her mouth is, "Oh you are SKIN AND BONES!!" Same energy as grandma who is about to make you feel more full than you have ever been in your entire life, considering she's going to open her home to Turts in a couple chapters.

They get into a conversation where Bumble asks where they came from, and why they left the mountains. She remains friendly and open, just enjoying small talk with these total strangers. She's enjoyable and lighthearted, in welcome contrast to the Settler's group which is full of moping, miserable cats.

(and in my live-read I was even frustrated at the time by how it seemed like the Settlers would have 1 or 2 nice moments, and then go back to fighting or brooding. It's unpleasant.)

In this first interaction it's just a glimmer, but it seems that what Turtle Tail LIKES about Bumble is that she makes her feel special. She LISTENS, unlike how Gray Wing is going to be in a couple of chapters.

She likes telling the shocking tale of giant birds to Bumble, and Bumble is happy that they're away from such hardships now. When Turtle Tail turns the questions back on her, Bumble is happy to gush about her life as a house cat.

She loves her people, playing with their children and always having plenty of food, explaining that when she gets bored she comes to the woods for a nice walk. Then, she mentions something very important.

Historically, there WAS no aggression towards outsiders. Cats like Bumble didn't take what they didn't need, and were left alone for it. This first interaction paints the full picture. Bumble wasn't afraid of the Settlers because there never was a reason to be scared.

CLEAR SKY is inventing the borders to aggrieve random cats. Him. His idea. Before him, you could walk through the forest freely like Bumble did.

This is before the arc irrevocably goes up in flames at the end of Book 3 by committing to a Clear Sky "Redemption," and is forced to create One Eye and Slash out of nowhere for Books 4/5/6. Before that absolutely baffling mistake of a choice, it is clear that The Settlers are the problem.

There WAS no Slash or One Eye. They were retconned in midway through the arc to make Clear Sky and The Settlers look less bad.

After this exchange, Turtle Tail dismisses Bumble's way of life and chuckles at a joke Gray Wing makes about how they'll probably never see Bumble again because she'll be afraid of them... but she's thinking about her. It strikes me as being the same kind of feeling as the swirling, murky feeling of a new crush.

Can't get the chunky kitty girl out of her head, can you, Turtle Tail?

We don't see Bumble for a few more chapters, but in her next appearance, it's implied she's been visiting Turtle Tail for a while. Gray Wing sees them sharing a meal. Please note how Turts is immediately defensive. As if she feels like she's being caught in the middle of doing something wrong.

(Tangent: note the constant suspicion and aggression towards Wind and Gorse. who live here.)

Gray Wing is as oblivious as ever. For a character described as "wise" he's incredibly dense towards the feelings of others. Yet, always, ALWAYS, Bumble is cheerful. This brewing animosity is NOT returned, she's happy to see him again.

He tries to recruit her to the moor group and she enthusiastically declines with a "No way! I love my life, actually!"

As soon as she's out of earshot, Here Comes The Confrontation. The exact one that Turtle Tail correctly anticipated when she got defensive earlier;

"You shouldn't have friends I don't approve of, Turtle Tail. It bothers me."

How can I NOT love Bumble? When her primary purpose is to be a friend for Turtle Tail, while Gray Wing is either ignoring her or sending her on guilt trips through this entire book? She's RELIEF for a woman who's being treated like trash, and every time she shows up she's doing something cute or helpful!

(Tangent: This book's pacing is garbage. The next scene is a sudden fox raid where a billion foxes attack the camp, and then the Settlers reveal that they don't know what a fox is. BUMBLE taught Turtle Tail about the danger of foxes. This is contradicted by the later books where there's cats back at the tribe named after foxes and Quiet Rain calls her shittiest son a foxheart. But there's waaay worse continuity errors in this arc.)

Gray Wing, the POV, hates her for no goddamn reason. It's right there on the page that he can't give Turtle Tail an answer as to why she should stop hanging out with her. The two continue to fight as Turts desperately tries to salvage their relationship while Gray Wing finds ways to snap at her or offend her.

I think the next appearance of Bumble is actually the most cringeworthy, though. I get secondhand embarrassment reading this one.

Turts just stayed with her friend overnight, and Gray Wing throws a fit about it, hissing at her that she's using the wrong terms and that she's forgotten where she belongs. Bumble watches this all happen like 😬, and then when Turtle Tail apologizes for this asshole having a conniption, he hisses AGAIN and whines about how he doesn't need to be apologized for.

But Bumble, up to her very last appearance in this book, is helpful and open.

After Gray Wing is nearly slaughtered by Fox at the border on Clear Sky's orders, so he kills him in self defense, causing Clear Sky to disown Gray Wing as his brother, which is the final straw for the pregnant Storm to run off, and then The Pacing Brothers have a casual chat over the still-warm corpse of the dead lackey, the input lag finally sends the signal to Gray Wing's brain that he needs to go find Storm.

It's BUMBLE that tells him where she can be found, as always, cutting through tension. Turtle Tail stays behind because she's understandably fed up with Gray Wing, so Bumble brings him where he needs to go. She guides him through the town, over roads, to the abandoned building where Storm is staying.

Gray Wing whines the whole time because he is a loser.

It's also interesting to me that when Bumble's annoyed with him, she doesn't huff or even get rude. She just glances back, and points out that there's disadvantages to his lifestyle too. You get used to it.

In better books, Gray Wing's POV would be considered unreliable in the end. He's an oblivious jackass whose thickness causes him to treat other people poorly, EXCEPT for his monstrous brother, whose violence and abuse he enables through the entire series. Though he's hailed as a "perfect boy so very full of love," he causes a LOT of the problems in his own relationships and familial dynamics.

Smarter books would encourage you to step back and think critically about the events as he perceived them;

Why did his judgement of Bumble begin to harden as Turtle Tail spent more time with her? Did Bumble do anything to deserve this?

Did Gray Wing's behavior lead to Turtle Tail's eventual decision to leave the moor? Were there other factors?

What are the flaws he can identify about himself? How will he grow from this?

Are there broader problems with The Settlers, which may have influenced the mindsets of both Turtle Tail and Gray Wing?

Unfortunately with Gray Wing, the only thing they identify as a "problem" in how he treated Turts in The Sun Trail is that he spent less time with her, as he pursued Storm. The controlling behavior and frequent arguing, the condescension, and the public embarrassment are NOT treated as negative traits to address as the series goes on.

(they never are. These are not directly addressed in any of the other terrible men in the series; Clear Sky, Bramblestar, Raggedstar, etc. only paternal neglect is condemned. Men are even allowed to beat their kids and it will not be called out.)

And breaking through that lens, you see Bumble. Who is just here to be a person that Turtle Tail needs, a good friend, someone who's confident, self-assured, and LOVES the life that she lives. I can't help but feel joy every time she walks onto the screen in The Sun Trail, because Gray Wing is SO frustrating that I'm rooting for Turtle Tail to go somewhere that she'll be appreciated.

It's as if they NEEDED to invent Tom the Wifebeater, who spawns in like some kind of random event just before Thunder Rising (the humans just... went to the shelter and adopted The Worst Cat. No checks on if he's aggressive towards other cats or anything), so that Turtle would HAVE some kind of reason to leave. Because, as you can see here, she wouldn't have gone back otherwise.

#bumble wc #bumble dotc #gray wing hate #warrior cats analysis #Bumble

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