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iamasaddie · 19 days

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tired

paring: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: explicit warnings: explicit sexual content, unspecified age gap, reader has hair that you can run your fingers through, no use of Y/N, UNEDITED a/n: fully inspired by this post @bonezone44 dared to put out so i thank them for basically punching me out of the no-writing period of my life <3 and also thank you to people who've been tagging me in multiple wip challenges and fic games, especially @milla-frenchy and @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog <3 you reminded me that i was indeed an author a million years ago word count: 2.6k masterlist

Joel was tired. His back was hurting from helping Tommy fix up his roof, his knees were aching from climbing up and down that goddamn ladder that he could swore was ready to break at any second. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a night where he could just relax. Throw his body somewhere in his house and have someone take care of it.

Now that Ellie was building her adult life with Dina, their place - his place - now felt like just a roof over his head, all the homeyness gone with the girl that almost single-handedly owned his sharp and rusty heart.

Joel squeezed his eyes shut, dry fingertips running over the lids. He did not want to go home and fall asleep on the couch, cursing everything the world stands on the next morning when he needs to fight the tears of pain with every back spasm he gets. No, he needed someone to take care of him, to give him something good, god knows he’s given these people more than enough over these past years. But, Joel sighed to himself, scrunching his nose as his eyes fell on the dirty knees of his jeans, he was not in shape of wining and dining women tonight.

That’s what you need casual connections for, old idiot, he chuckled to himself, remembering a few times he had to spell it out for some ladies that he wasn’t interested.

You practically jumped on a stool next to him while he was still considering his options.

“Hey, Joel, long night?”

Of course you’d be the first to ask about his day. Little miss sunshine. Well, at least that’s what he thought at first, before seeing you mercilessly killing a couple of infected villagers that weren’t careful enough on the patrol. Still, you were as syrupy sweet as honey on a fresh batch of pancakes when it came to him. The only one who didn’t cringe when he said his firm “no, thanks”. The only one who didn’t actually take his no for an answer.

You never actually threw yourself at him, but Joel learned what desire looks like and you were too young to learn how to mask it properly.

“Hey, kid.” He nodded, he knew how much you hated the nickname because it put even a bigger barrier between the two of you.

“Told you not to call me that, I’m only—“

“Twenty something years younger than me? Yeah.”

He saw your lips hiding in a thin line, your unbreakable spirit was too fragile when it came to him. Joel must’ve gone soft, or insane, because he nudged your shoulder with his, making you lift your head up and look him in the eyes.

“Tommy’s roof’s been a pain in the ass to fix. It’d be easier to burn that place down and build a new one, but my brother is as stubborn as them mules he’s been dreaming to have.”

You huffed a laugh, palm squeezing the slippery glass that was now empty a little too hard. “You know,” you started, shyness verging with hope that you tried to sheath with a nonchalant tone. Joel knew. And for the first time in years he actually contemplated, nodding to you to continue. “I could help you relax, I sometimes give massages in the hospital. It can really help with back pain.”

He purposefully kept silent, looking you in the eyes and trying to make you go back on your proposal. But as he knew already, you were no less stubborn than his little brother. It was karma or something that the only people that were semi-constant in his life were the ones who’d rather kiss an infected than give up.

Joel wasn’t exactly tortured with his conscience, he didn’t seduce you, and most of the old world morals have died already, so the age gap the size of an adult child didn’t bother him either. He was almost glad you tried again, he just needs to make sure you know it’s not something it isn’t.

“Yeah, my back’s been hurtin’ pretty bad today.” He finished his drink not tearing his eyes off you, and then he slowly let them trace your lips, the naked expanse of your neck that you showed off by unbuttoning a couple of buttons on your shirt. He looked lower, noticing your breasts rise and fall faster under his unmasked gaze.

“Wanna go now?” Your voice was breathless like you’d just ran a marathon. He wondered how you’d sound later tonight.

“Sure, darlin’. Lead the way.”

You never said anything when Joel strode past the hospital shack, not even slowing his pace. He was saying something about the roof again but it was hard to understand through the blood pumping jungle beats in your ears.

You kept nodding and humming in agreement, though you couldn’t quite process the words. As you followed him, the anticipation gnawed at you, every step closer tightening the knot in your stomach. You knew he was taking you home, well, he was taking you to his house, and you went too slow for the amount of times that you dreamed to step over his doorstep. Joel's house was small and dimly lit, for some reason it was exactly how you imagined it: homey in spite of the circumstances. Joel took off his jacket silently, the faint smell of cedar and something musky filled the air, mingling with his earthy scent. He turned to face you, those piercing eyes locking onto yours.

“You gonna give me a massage wearing this?” He pointed at the warm coat you put on in a hurry as you were leaving the bar. Your fingers stumbled over each other as you tried to open the buttons of the damn thing. You felt a flush of warmth rise to your cheeks under his scrutiny.

Your fingers touched as you gave him your coat, but there was no electricity, his fingers were rough and scratched your skin, your palm became sweaty and you hurried to wipe it on your jeans when he didn’t look.

“Let’s go, bedroom’s upstairs,” his voice was low and calm, somehow its vibrations helped you settle, grounded you. You gave him a quick smile and followed his broad figure. Every stair squeaked under his heavy footsteps, you looked like a mouse that was chasing a bear. Willingly. The bedroom door creaked open to reveal a space just as humble as the rest of the house. A couple of drawings in handmade frames, a chair with a pair of pants on it, and the bed. Your eyes were glued to it. The bed and its tangled sheets seemed inviting, though a wave of nerves prickled your spine. ‘You’re here to give him a massage, don’t get ahead of yourself’ you thought, teeth sinking in your lower lip. You weren’t too young or naive to think that a massage was all this night would end with, but such a quick change of heart in Joel made you doubt your every breath.

When you brought your eyes back to the man you saw him studying you, you could swear a nervous tick clenched his jaw but you didn’t let yourself ponder on it.

“I’m gonna rip the bandaid off and say it as it is, okay, pretty girl?”

Your breath hitched. Joel stepped closer, his eyes steadily holding yours. You nodded, not trusting your voice. His gaze was intense, making your heart hammer loudly enough to be heard.

"Massage ain’t exactly the thing I took ya here for,” Joel admitted, eyes dark, voice raw with honesty. “If you catch my drift.”

“I…” You cleared your throat, you wanted to look confident, or at least not scared. You’ve wanted to get into this man’s bed for months now, imagined how and when and what, and now that it happens you can barely squeeze out a, “yeah, of course I do.”

Joel smiled, one of his hands flying to cup your jaw as he brought his lips closer to yours and you closed your eyes in anticipation of his soft skin on yours. “Good girl,” the remnants of his wet breath stained your lips.

As quickly as he came at you, he left. His pace was languid when he worked on taking off his jeans, leaving himself in a ridiculous attire of a flannel shirt, a t-shirt underneath and simple cotton boxers.

You bit your lip, suppressing a giggle at the sight. His eyes snagged on your smile, sharpening with mischief. Joel raised an eyebrow, catching your amusement. “What’s so funny, darlin’?”

“Nothing,” your cheeks felt extra hot and you were glad for the poor lighting in the bedroom. “Lay on your back, please. As I said before, I’d like to help you relax.”

Joel held your gaze for a hot minute, but then silently followed your order. “I’d maybe argue any other day, but not now, sweetheart. Today I’ll take all the care I can get,” he smiled, but you missed the warm gesture. He laid back, his head hitting the pillow, long curls that he had left to grow splayed around the back of his head. You were too focused, letting your hands wander over his chest, feeling the texture of his shirt and the years of safer life that he was hiding underneath had grown out brushing against the fabric. You moved your fingers lightly over his chest, watching his eyes flutter closed.

His hands blindly found yours, hardened blisters of his palms scraped your soft skin, and he pushed your hands lower, somewhere you didn’t dare look for too long.

“Don’t be shy, babygirl,” he muttered with his eyes still closed. You let him guide you. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the rigidity slowly melting away under your touch.

You remembered him talking about ripping a bandage off, so you followed his philosophy, hooking your fingers under the elastic of his boxers and tugging the material down. As the cool air grazed his skin, he released a slow, shuddering breath. It felt like something forced you to lift your head up, you met his gaze and saw a flicker of softness and gratefulness in his eyes.

“This okay?” You whispered, hands already exploring the places your eyes were too shy to inspect.

“More than,” Joel’s voice was calm, breathing barely indicating the intimate setting you were in. His eyes fell shut again and a part of you thought that was only to give you more freedom, save you from his scrutiny. You noticed the slight hitch in his breath with each new touch, his body responding to your feathery strokes.

When your fingertips grazed the hot skin covered in coarse hair you couldn’t help but look. Even in half darkness it was easy to see that Joel was well-endowed and eager. His cock laid on the pillow of his pubic hair, the shaft slightly curved. Pink tip was glistening with precum and you wondered if you got him excited or the promise of future pleasure. Your left hand was resting on his hip when as if hypnotized you traced your index finger from his tip to where his base was covered in sparse graying curls.

Joel’s cock jumped to attention, twitching under your light touch, prompting you to close your fist around it which you immediately did. With the first tug on the velvety soft skin both of you released a moan.

“Spit on it, baby, make it wet,” Joel’s voice was relaxed, as if you put your hand on a muscle that was aching for days and relieved the pain.

Your short nails dug into his hip when you started contemplating how to do it. You weren’t completely innocent, far from it, but somehow you could count on the fingers of one hand the amount of times you needed to spit during sex. Deciding against spitting in your own palm, you took a different position, scooting lower down the bed and hunching over Joel’s waiting cock. The moment the smell of his skin and sweat hit your nose it was like you were intoxicated. Your lips closed around his flushed tip, tongue diving to get more of his taste. Both of your hands settled on his hips, either to hold him down or find balance. You abandoned the idea of spitting, the thought of not having his cock in your mouth almost pained you. It was like this was the grand finale of your romantic labor. Here, on your knees between the legs of a man who was holding you at arm's length for the longest time. It shouldn’t have felt so good, but it did. Taking care of him, even in this basic, primal way, felt like taking care of yourself.

Your wet mouth slid further down, the thick shaft of Joel’s cock stretching your lips. It took you a moment to realize Joel’s hands were in your hair. For a moment you thought he wanted you to stop, you even started to lift off, but the firm pressure of his hand on your head made it clear that he wasn’t against this turn of events. You let yourself build up to a comfortable taste, exploring each centimeter of his skin in your mouth, the way a couple of veins bulged under your tongue, the ridge of the head pushing further in your throat. You didn’t hurry and neither did he. You savored the slow rhythm of push and pull, letting him go deeper with every thrust.

One of his hands left your head and you raised your eyes to Joel’s face, mouth still very occupied with his cock. He must have felt it, because he barely lifted his head off the pillow, stray curls sticking to his sweaty forehead and you could swear you saw him wink at you before he laid his head back, using the freed hand to tuck away long strands of hair behind his ear.

The picture of this man, always so rough and guarded, finally relaxing under your touch and shedding the years of hostility made you drunker than any booze Tommy could’ve offered. Your movements became faster, saliva dripping down his cock and making it glisten. You felt Joel’s hips tense under your palms and you didn’t even need to hear the shameless moans drowned by your excitement and the sloppy wet sounds to know he was close.

“Doin’ good for me, baby, doin’ real good,” he groaned as you felt the tip of his cock punch the back of your throat repeatedly. Your eyes watered, but you admitted to yourself that you would rather suffocate and die than let the cock of this man out of your mouth. Your jaw was aching, the pleasurable pain that said how good of a job you did.

The shaft under your tongue felt even harder, a loaded gun pressing on your tongue and you couldn’t wait for it to shoot.

Both of Joel’s hands returned to your head pressing you into his skin so hard that little hairs tickled your nose and your vision started to go blurry.

His load was salty and thick, you felt it slide down your throat like lava, burning you from the inside. Barely catching your breath you sat straight, watching closely how Joel’s chest rose and fell following his erratic breathing. There was an indecent amount of wetness gathered in the gusset of your panties and by the look on Joel’s face you knew you’d have to handle it yourself.

“Feeling good?” Your voice sounded weird, hoarse and raspy in the gritty silence of the room.

“You’re really good at massage, darlin’, I’m more relaxed than the day I was born,” Joel held his gaze on you, using his shoulder to scratch the underside of his jaw. You took it as your key to leave, after all, you never agreed to anything more.

Joel’s voice stopped you with one foot over the doorstep.

“Maybe I could return the favor some time.”

#iamasaddie fic #joel miller x reader #Joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you

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confusedraven1 · 8 months

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my favorite thing so far about season 2 is how, no matter what, the crew of the revenge actively chooses their found family, over and over again

• swede loves and is married to jackie, but double crosses her anyway because of his love and “life debt” for his family

• stede leaves ricky at jackie’z, despite ricky being inexperienced, because he’s fucking around and they all need to leave. stede’s not gonna risk his family just because ricky wants some sort of recognition for something he barely helped with

• oluwande leaves zheng yi sao because he’ll be damned if he leaves jim, who he’s reiterated that they’re family for him

• frenchie and jim disobeys ed’s orders and save izzy’s life because, as jim says, “he’s THEIR dick.” archie follows along cause she knows it’s fucked up and wants to stay by jim’s side

• izzy has chosen ed over and over again, and would’ve continued to if ed had accepted the help he desperately needed, but ed isolates himself and pushes izzy to the point where he HAS to choose the rest of the crew instead

• roach, wee john, and pete all get jobs on the red flag that play to their strengths and they enjoy IMMENSELY, but they go back to the revenge cause there’s no world where they wouldn’t. buttons had the opportunity to probably get more sea witch info and tools from auntie, but he also wouldn’t ever choose that over the crew

• lucius is PISSED at stede, and has a ton of ptsd to work through. i imagine he probably felt somewhat safe finally on the red flag. but after talking things through with stede and pete, i know that it was a no brainer for him as well. he’d never give pete up again after that kind of separation

• even though stede is loving the experience of seeing zheng yi sao doing what she does best and the (seemingly) warm and comforting environment on the red flag, he chooses to rescue the crew, even izzy, and take back their ship. because he knows they would choose him (and did during the act of grace, minus izzy). he’s bringing their family back together despite everything else

• i would say that the crew still with ed DID choose him, constantly. any other crew would’ve mutinied WAY before they did, but they love ed and hoped things would get better despite his behavior saying otherwise. the only times they didn’t choose him was out of self-preservation

• ed became a self-fulfilling prophecy and isolated himself. i would argue that he’s the one exception here. he actively chooses to disregard his family because of his self-loathing and deluded himself into thinking they wouldn’t choose him. BUT, in the end, he finally does because stede cast him that line. he chose to live for himself, of course, but i like to think that that decision was also to come back to the one person that truly felt like family for him

i am so fucking excited to see all of the other ways they’re going to choose each other, yet also keep each other accountable for the things they do. because they’re family

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toxicanonymity · 9 months

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i need more raider joel more than i need air in my lungs

Night air.

3500 words, raider!Joel x f!reader | ✨gif

Raider master list ⭐ Joel master

reader-curated playlist | sweet pea (smut songs)

“‘s’too cold out here, sweet pea. put on a shirt, would ya?" Your heart flutters at the implicit invitation and you return with a flannel over your nightie. . . He makes room for you, but doesn’t take his eyes off the fire as he lets you climb into his lap. You study his face and see something new flickering behind it. Worry.

You want to ask him what’s wrong, but you don’t. "When are you gonna come to bed?” you ask instead.

SUMMARY: Joel brutalizes a bad guy, gives it to you hard, then works on something for you and gives it to you slow. His POV is revealing. WARNINGS: I8+, POV alternates, ANGST, Joel's trauma, overkill violence, dubcon (stockholm syndrome) unsafe P in V x2 (hard then soft), dark fluff, f masturbation, somnophilia, staying inside, NO Y/N. A/N: ty @milla-frenchy for Qs & recs 🖤

—--- JOEL——

Yeah, Joel killed two of his own men, and they had it coming. He caught them red handed on their way into your room in the stash house. It still makes his blood boil to think about. If they hadn’t walked into that room talking about you like a piece of meat, those two men would be alive. Joel would do it again in a heartbeat.

He’s not surprised when the others are shaken, but if they’re good men, they have nothing to worry about. When things remain tense longer than he expects, Joel rounds them up for a group meeting. He puts you in the usual room with his trusted guard Carter posted at the door. The meeting becomes heated.

“No one’s gonna be left at this rate,” one man barks. “They ain’t gonna say it,” he gestures behind him to the other men, “but I will. She shouldn’t be here.”

Joel’s voice raises with his blood pressure. He asks, “What’d you say to me, Harold?" as he stands up.

Louder, maybe loud enough for you to hear, Harold repeats, “She shouldn’t be here. It’s bound to happen.” Bound to happen? These low-lifes are bound to put their hands on Joel Miller’s girl? Joel can feel the beat of his rage in his veins. All his muscles tense.

He takes a deep breath, exhales sharply, then says matter-of-factly, “I’ll show ya what else is bound to happen.”

Joel picks up his rifle.

"Yeah, kill me," Harold chides. "Kill us all."

Joel shakes his head no. His voice is deep and flat. "Not until ya beg me to." Now he’s gotta make an example out of someone.

Joel forces Harold outside, then puts his rifle behind his back and lets Harold take a swing at him, just for fun. When Joel gets this wound up, he needs to feel something. After getting clocked square in the jaw, Joel beats him until he’s barely conscious. Then, Joel hoists Harold, who is not a light man, and impales him on a sharp, severed fence post.

Joel puts his rifle around front again, leaving Harold alive but doomed, and heads back toward the house. He’s almost to the door when Harold manages to groan through his gurgles. Joel turns around, calmly raises his rifle, shoots him in the head, then keeps walking. He goes back inside, chest heaving, wiping blood splatter off his face with his wrist. The rest of them are still inside. No one came to Harold's defense or ran. Joel stares down the men, and based on the faces he sees, he’s not worried about any of them.

“Rest of ya got nothin’ to worry ‘bout,” he reassures them. “long as ya leave her ‘lone.”

The men nod. Joel thinks about adding, and I’m not the only one you’ve gotta worry about, tempted to warn them that you know your way around a pistol and can handle yourself. One bullet, right between the eyes of that fucker. Joel thinks about it all the time. There’s something about his little sweet pea being a badass. And thank god, because he almost lost you.

“Now back to business.”

They discuss the rival crew they think sent two guys to Joel’s trailer, only for Joel and you to kill them. Joel doesn't think the crew is stupid enough to cause any more trouble, but agrees someone has to keep watch Just in case.

Joel almost reminds his men that he holds all the smuggling routes and contacts, just in case they’re concerned enough to pull something. But he doesn't need to say it. He dismisses them and grabs a duffle bag before collecting you from Carter. Carter asks what to do with Harold, and Joel says leave him for a while.

–

When the two of you get back to his trailer, Joel is ready to fuck out his anger. He sees himself in the mirror, chest heaving, veins about to pop, blood splatter on his hairline. God damnit, Harold. Joel showers because he doesn’t want any part of Harold getting close to you. Not even his blood.

You’re in the kitchen getting a glass of water when Joel walks out of the bathroom in just a towel. He crosses the kitchen, drops the towel, and pins you against the counter, pressing his hardness against your ass. He backs up enough to scrunch up your dress and growls, "good girl," when he finds you panty-less and wet. You knew. You were ready for it.

He grunts as he shoves himself into you, and he gives it to you good. "No one’s," he thrusts, "gonna," he grunts "touch ya." He plunges into you twice more, breathing heavily, then adds, “but me.” The power of his hips sends you to your toes with each thrust. He wraps an arm around you to hold you steady and watches over your shoulder as your tits jiggle with each punch of his hips. It doesn’t take you long to come. Then he curls his hands under your arms to hold your shoulders down from the front and begins to pulse with a low groan. He leans his head against yours and cradles it from the other side as he catches his breath, then asks, “you good?”

You nod, “mm-hmm,” and he pulls out, feeling better.

“Good.”

In the following days, things settle down in Joel’s group and get back to normal. The rival crew doesn't show up.

—--

One night, Joel leaves you inside the trailer while he sits out by the fire, as he often does. What you don't know is that he's not just sitting, drinking, and thinking. He’s working on something. He’s been making things for you. He hasn’t given you anything because nothing’s good enough, and it’s probably not going to get any better, but he keeps doing it. Sometimes he feels a little silly, but they’re things that will help both of you. Practical things.

He made a thigh holster for your gun. There was an old one without the straps in the weapons cache which is just a small room of chaos in the stash house, no telling what else is in there. He used part of a belt for the top strap and some black ribbon on the bottom, for the time being. It would be better than nothing, but he hasn't given it to you in case it wouldn’t work. Maybe it doesn't matter. As the weather changes, you'll probably need new clothes, anyway. Maybe even pants, he internally grumbles. Sweaters, too, so your chest won’t be exposed.

Tonight, Joel has another strap of leather with him, one that wasn't right for the holster. He also has a pot of water and a steel nail with a makeshift handle so he doesn’t burn himself. He heats up the tool and uses the hot nail head to emboss the strap with bold letters. He’s been working on it all week, and he’s only on ‘E.’ It’ll be first name only at this rate. You might not wanna wear it anyway, but it’s for your own good.

Joel’s almost lost you twice now. If there’s anything he can do to make someone think twice about touching or taking you, he’ll do it. Because Jackson, may he burn in hell, was right. Joel can’t have his eyes on you every single second. He's told you before: you tell’em you belong to Joel Miller. They’ll back right off when they hear it. But it doesn’t hurt for them to see it, too. And of course Joel wouldn't mind seeing it himself.

Joel’s fingers are too big for work this small. He accidentally makes the vertical line of the E slanted. Ah hell, this whole thing is no good anyway. You may never see it at this rate. But it feels good working with his hands, especially on something he thinks could help keep you safe and keep you his. You're a good girl, his good girl.

He should be thinking strategy, what’s going to happen with these warring crews, but that’s just not where his head’s at.

—--- YOU 🌸🫛—-----

You listen to the fire crackle and pop, longing for Joel to come to bed, longing for him to hold you, and more. He seems to stay outside longer than usual. When he adds a new log to the fire, you get impatient and decide to go out. You put on your shoes and go to the door, pushing it open just an inch. The rail to the stairs is blocking your view, but he's looking down at something. His jaw clenches in the firelight and he raises his eyebrows as he looks up. You slowly open the door, stepping out onto the stairs in your nightie. He puts something down on the ground, out of view.

“‘s’too cold out here, sweet pea. put on a shirt, would ya?" Your heart flutters at the implicit invitation and you return with a flannel over your nightie. As you approach, he takes a swig of whiskey and puts the flask down. His eyes are dark as he watches the flames. He makes room for you but doesn’t take his eyes off the fire as he lets you climb into his lap. You study his face and see something new flickering behind it. Worry. You want to ask him what’s wrong, but you don’t.

"When are you gonna come to bed?” you ask.

His brows knit as he looks at you. For a few seconds, he concentrates on picking lint off the flannel and smoothing your nightgown.

“I dunno, sweet pea. Got some stuff to figure out.”

“Can I help?”

He shakes his head no. You put your arms around his neck and rest your cheek against his shoulder. Then you slowly roll your face against him so your lips touch his warm skin and your nose rests on top of his shoulder muscle. You close your eyes and stay like that for a moment. He doesn’t stop you. Then you dare to press your lips ever so slightly into his skin before pulling your face back to look at him, your lips disconnecting with a barely perceptible smack. Joel’s still looking at the fire, but he allows himself a subtle smile as he exhales a silent laugh, then cradles your head. “Go to bed, sweet pea.” He kisses your temple. “I’ll be there in a li’l bit.”

You take the flannel off and get in bed, still smelling like the fire. You think of getting naked, eager to feel Joel however he wants you. But maybe he likes undressing you, and it’s chillier than normal, too. You lay under the covers getting wet and tingly thinking about what he'll do when he comes to bed.

The fire is still blazing. There’s no sign of him putting it out. It doesn't seem like he's coming in soon, but you're too turned on to just go to sleep. You close your eyes, recalling the feeling of Joel’s warm skin on your lips by the fire. The way his eyes sparkled. The way he always opens his arms for you to get in his lap–that seat is always yours whenever you want it.

You think about how handsome he is. Even, or especially when he’s looking rough. All dirty and beat up when he got home that one night, muscles pumped up. His sexy stitches. You play a montage in your head of all the times you’ve heard him yell, seen him stomp around ordering guys to do this or that. How fiercely he protects you. Your lip creeps under your teeth and you close your eyes.

All the way turned on, you slide your hand down between your legs and imagine him walking in and ravaging you. You recall how urgently he fucked you at the kitchen table after he thought you almost died. You recall the time he fucked you naked in missionary and and marked your neck. You try to visualize the look in his eyes.

And then, when you’re just about to come, you remember that one morning. Those few seconds you kissed, when he kissed you back. He had pulled you into him before he knew what he was doing. You still savor that fleeting moment he was grinding against you, his plush lips locked with yours. You can practically feel it. And that’s enough to put you over the edge. You turn your head into the pillow and brace for your orgasm.

—----- JOEL —------

You must think Joel can't hear your pretty little sounds when you touch yourself, but over the crackling of the fire he could swear he hears you moan into a pillow. His nose can't help but twitch into a little smile. He lets the fire die as he finishes the 'E', then he comes inside and washes off the smoke in the shower. By the time he gets in bed, you're asleep on your back with your left arm on your chest.

He carefully gets into the bed, spreading his weight out to not jostle the mattress. He's to your left, lying on his side, facing you. You’re so pretty and peaceful with your eyes closed and your sweet lips just slightly parted. An urge has been growing in his chest. He’s tried to push it away, but it's only grown, and he's afraid he can’t stop it happening.

He can’t bring himself to do it when you’re awake. He can’t let himself see how happy it makes you. The loss feels inevitable, and it gets closer and closer. The panic he felt when FEDRA had you on the ground. The devastation when it sounded like you were shot outside his own trailer. It gets worse every time. And last time, there was something new. Two losses flashed before his eyes. The loss of you (in the present and future), and the loss of what could have been–at least for a while, when he had the chance. The worst part is, he doesn't know which would hurt more.

His eyes fall on your mouth again.

If he does it now, it won’t mean anything. It won’t change anything. If he does it now, maybe this urge will stop pulling at him every time you’re close. And then he can tell himself it never happened. Yeah, if he does it now, it can be like it never happened. Like he never let himself get that close, never gave you hope that he could be anything more than the terrible man he is.

His lip twitches as he watches you sleep. Then his breathing syncs with yours, and for a moment, everything fades away but you and him and the physical need that's tugging at him.

Joel leans over you, careful not to wake you, and he hovers over your pretty face. It's happening. His heart races as his face drifts toward yours, drawn to you like a magnet.

He closes his eyes, presses his lips gently into yours, and something rushes through his blood to every part of his body. Fuck. He's instantly soothed. With your lips still locked, he takes one breath through his nose then pulls away. He takes a deep breath, expecting the buzz to fade, expecting to hate himself. But you're so pretty and your lips were so soft. He almost chokes on his own saliva. He's quickly gotten hard.

Still fast asleep, you sigh and your nose twitches. You hum the prettiest little "mm," and roll over on your right, facing away from him like you normally sleep.

He pinches his eyes shut tight. He has to have you.

–

Joel curls himself around you, inhales your hair, and cups your breast. He presses his cock against you, hardening to full strength by now. He lets out a deep but quiet, "Mmm," not enough to wake you up. The exposed skin of your back and shoulder is so inviting, he's salivating. His arm slides from your breast down your nightie to your mound and you sigh. He lifts his head to see if you're awake as he aimlessly caresses you over your nightie. Your brow furrows with his light touch. Aw, sweet pea, he thinks to himself. You're just so cute. He presses a gentle kiss into your neck where it meets your shoulder, and he begins to ghost your clit through the fabric.

You sigh again, but still don't seem to wake up yet. He presses your mound so your hips tilt for him, and he pulls up the nightgown. He tests you with a finger and finds you wet but pulls back and pauses to add saliva to his tip. He teases your entrance with his cock, and you sigh "Mmm, Joel," as you begin to stir awake. He pushes the curve of his tip just slightly inside, then holds your breast.

He asks, “You 'wake?”

“Mmm,” you answer weakly.

"wake you up?" His cock prods at your tight, wet entrance, pushing in a little further.. He's itching to be inside you, but he's taking his time, captivated by your peacefulness.

Your spine arches and you push back on him, taking another inch of his cock in with a moan as you stir awake. "Joel,” you sigh.

He presses his lips into your neck and lets them linger. You ask, "are you awake?"

"Mm-hmm," he answers, his voice deep and gravely. He groans softly as he pushes his cock into you. He takes a deep breath as your insides make room for him. It dawns on him that he's never taken the time to savor the moment your bodies are joined, but shit, it feels good. He didn't know it could feel so good like this. He’s feeling every groove of you in slow motion. Each centimeter of you greets him with a tight, warm hug. You push back on him with a moan, bringing your bodies together.

Oh, sweet pea. You want it so bad, and you take it so good.

—---YOU 🌸🫛—---

Joel’s cock spreads you apart and he buries his length in you slowly at first, palming your breasts. He pauses, all the way inside you, and removes your nightie so your naked bodies are flush. It feels like a dream. The way he kissed your shoulder, the way he’s fucking you right now with his whole body cradling yours, each thrust so deliberate, you can’t help but still wonder if he’s truly awake. If you're truly awake. He grunts softly each time he bottoms out. His sighs and moans are deep and gravely.

“Sweet pea,” he whispers against your neck, “ohhhh, you — ohh, you take it so good, baby.” His hand slides down your stomach, between your legs. He whispers in your ear, "God DAMN, youfeelsogood,” he inhales sharply, then sighs your name. Your nipples harden and you get goosebumps.

“Joel,” you whimper at his fingers on your clit. The fullness of his cock was enough, and the addition of his hand has you twitching already.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he whispers, and his voice is so soothing, you relax again. He slows down his pace, his length sliding snugly into your warmth slow enough to feel the drag of his tip inside you. He touches your clit and you whimper again. He adjusts his hand to touch it less directly, pulsing his flattened fingers. That’s what you need. You moan.

“Good girl.”

You wanna ask him again if he’s really awake, but you don’t want to break the spell. You let the silence linger, peppered with moans and sighs from each of you. You’d love for this to last forever. You love every way he gives it to you, but the newness of this is something to savor. After a few minutes, sweat begins to bead and run between your bodies. You’re both breathing heavily. He gropes at your breasts and the entire front of your body, like he can’t get you close enough. His breathing gets ragged. You memorize the feel of his cock dragging thick and slow inside you. Then he adds his hand again. His thrusts become more powerful. “Come for me, I want you to– nnngh.”

“Joel,” you whine.

‘Ohh,” he moans.

“Joel, I’m–”

“Go ‘head, baby—ugghh—-you can do it”

Your upper back presses into his chest. He groans and holds you tight as you convulse against him and choke his cock with your climax. “Ohhhh, baby, mmmm.” He bottoms out and pulses inside you as you’re still coming. He sighs "ohhh," as he fills you up with his warm release. Your body hugs him more with every pulse of his cock.

When you’re both finished coming, your bodies are still joined. You relish the fullness of him inside you. You expect him to pull out any minute, but his breathing regulates with yours.

At some point, Joel's breath stutters abruptly, and you realize he's fallen asleep like this. Holding you close, body curled around you, cock gradually softening inside you. It isn't long until you drift off, too.

Smut continues here: asleep inside

Next major chapter: hunger

Thank you so much for reading and engaging. Please consider commenting or reblogging to show raider Joel your love, even if this post is old. 💖 Love you guys. I love your passion for him. Your engagement motivates me. <333

Friendly reminder that there will be no pregnancy in this fic, Joel was snipped pre outbreak.

----

@toxicfics for notifications, make sure your phone is set to enable push notifications from tumblr. Some of my fics are pretty dark!

⚠️ Since so many people are saying tags aren't working, I may discontinue the tag list soon, sorry ⚠️

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #raider!joel miller #raider!joel #toxicanonymity ☠️#raider!joel☠️#joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #tw violence #joel miller angst #joel x reader #joel miller fic #tlou joel #tlou smut #raider joel #dark!joel miller #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters

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bowieandqueen11 · 8 months

Text

Love For You / Izzy Hands Imagine

Request: I just found your ao3 account a few days ago and your writing style is excellent! Legitimately some of the most visual and evocative writing I've seen on that website, and I've been devouring your izzy hands fics since I caught up on season two! Can I request another izzy x reader post-amputation and just the reader caring for him while he's pining hard? Maybe the reader has some medical experience so they've been able to help him a little better than the rest of the crew, making sure he's taking time to heal in a difficult moment (physically as well as emotionally, god knows he needs that.) Letting him know he's loved and him realizing he hasn't...heard someone say that to him or treat him this gently in a long time

Thank you so much that's so kind of you to say, it's so lovely people finding me from AO3!! Honestly one of the best feelings, and goodness knows Izzy needs this :)

Okay so I haven't been able to watch the new season so all my knowledge is coming from Tumblr gifs and posts, so I really hope this isn't too ooc my lovely!! Anyway let's get this man some comfort!

I spent all day writing this, so all comments are much appreciated! Thank you! :)

Warning: mentions of blood/injury, mentions of physical abuse, mention of smoking, kissing and some strong language!

(I do not own OFMD or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @goodsirs.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Something monstrous seemed to be creeping up the shuddering walls.

No, it wasn't the stifling silence that had seemed to envelop those of Blackbeard's crew still left, hiding their heads between their legs and closing their eyes as they felt the quicksand drain out through the fingers. Nor was it the creaking organ snore of Wee John thrumming up the timber; the rest of your usually upbeat crew grew despondent as they wracked their brains together and came up with a way to save you all from imminent demise, having flopped onto their sides and fallen into fitful sleeps just before sunset. Sadly it wasn't even the feel of Lucius' finger stroking yours through the cold grates of your jail, his smile lost and forlorn as he thumped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes as well, feeling even more entrapped in himself than you did.

It was, in fact, the hard glare Izzy Hands was shooting into the side of your face. He hadn't spoken a word since Stede had left, choosing instead to let out the odd sniffle from his corner bucket and busy himself by watching you like a man possessed: like something wild, something smothering itself in the shadows to stop its howling heart from devouring the light around itself. From tearing his dagger out of his scabbard and devouring his heart himself with clawed hooks. He looked ghastly, and he looked gargantuan as the life seemed to convulse within him, leeching out and darting its tongue around the creaking wood until it filled up the room and began to fill your heart up with a hope you thought had been lost weeks ago.

He looked beautiful and proud and defeated and assured in spite of it all, and you were finally beginning to understand why Zheng Yi Sao had locked him away in this cage.

And in a way, it terrified you that this cataclysmic, lucent shadow was creeping its merry way straight for you.

The tenebrosity was quickly broken by Izzy's shining eyes gliding across the bridge of your nose to land instead on your top lip. He wasn't entirely sure why exactly he was feeling so timid. It wasn't as if Frenchie was still awake, as he was too busy hugging his free arm around the remaining muscle of Izzy's thigh and burying his head into the muscle with a soft murmur of contentment. Yet the idea of being caught leering at you like a dopey boy was enough to make him judder with embarrassment, and enough to send Frenchie's head keeling sideways so his lips were rammed up against his trousers.

Thankfully, it was exactly Frenchie's floppy head that gave away the fact that he was fast asleep, and allowed you to steal Izzy away for yourself. With a gentle lift, you were quick to replace your friend's cheek with your own hand, giving the side of Izzy's thigh a reassuring squeeze.

'You look like you're bearing the weight of the world on your shoulders', you sighed as you took in Izzy's harrowing form. It wasn't his paleness that worried you, or the redness that cracked and splintered around his irises. It was the way he was watching you, eyes trained steadily on your face for the last hour and a half, as if he were doing his best to memorise everything he could before he ran out of time. As if he would never have the chance to look at you again.

The edges of his lips curled up, and he thumped his head back against the wall. 'Me? I'm feeling fucking fantastic. Never been better. Why do you ask?'

'Well', you began as softly as you could, straining to reach the vials in your hip knapsack to retrieve some salve for the scarring that had begun to pucker around his skin. 'We are about to be executed. I guess I just wanted you to know this is a safe space to let it all out before we are. A confessional of sorts, if a little makeshift.'

He wet his bottom lip as his eyes darted down to you, confused.

You pointedly looked him in the eyes, before unscrewing the vial and dipping your pointer finger in. Making sure he didn't seem too uncomfortable, you leant forwards as innocuously as you could, trying not to startle him anymore than he already had been. With a swipe, you began to rub the herb mixture around the sore looking welts left around his cut leg, making a point to run your fingertips soothingly over the goose-bumps that began to rise at the feel of you against him.

'I wanted you to know- to know that you're always safe around your crew.' You did your best not to let your voice tremble, no matter how much your throat tried to choke you. You turned your head back down to his leg, trying to hide the fact that your mouth was crumpling in on itself.

He winced as your hand brushed against a tender point, and you ran the back of your knuckles over his skin in apology. He felt like he was burning alive: a fire blazing so furiously in the pit of his stomach he was sure it was gushing out, swinging around the room and warning everyone of his impending falter as he fell upon the crags of your fingers below. He had no idea how, in all the seas, you couldn't possibly see how ecstatically devastated he was to be sitting here with you.

He didn't mind dying. He wasn't scared of it. As long as you were there to enhalo his misty light in the end. As long as you were there to love him until his last breath. As long as, no matter what form he took, you were still enclosed around his heart.

'Who says I have anything to confess?', he glanced at you with heavy eyelashes, eyes bleary but sharp as he started straight into your soul. I don't have to confess it, he thought, it's so fucking painfully obvious.

How could he confess something so inexplicable? Something that wrapped around all of his bones, that wormed its way into parts of himself he thought long numb: long lost. How could someone ever articulate the feeling of life itself? It was insurmountable, far too transcendent, too impetuous for mortals to to unsnarl into words.

'Oh Izzy', you said, mouth falling into a frown at the way his hips reflexively bucked up at the feel of a new cream being slathered around his leg to try and numb the pain. He moaned, trying to mask the sound by clenching his fist into his mouth and biting desperately into his knuckles. One more touch, and he was about to fall apart. 'Your eyes are drowning in so many regrets I can barely see the stars in them anymore.'

He huffed out a laugh, looking at you with incredulous, wild eyes. He willed his hand to stop shaking as he let it rest, still clenched, by his quivering chin. 'Not in my eyes. You never could. That's not possible. Not me.'

'I could.' You were quick to reply. 'I always could. You're our guiding light, Israel Hands.'

Oh boy, if he wasn't devastated before he sure was now. His face fell immediately, and for a moment you felt your heart ache with a sore regret at the silvery tears that began to cloud in the crinkles of his eyes. But then he does something that surprised even you.

The way he opened his legs up was almost miniscule: too small for anyone who didn't know this man's quirks and intricacies and giveaways to notice, but a well aimed shot that sent a rush of heat prickling up your cheeks. Before he changed his mind and retreated into himself again, you were quick to scoot your backside over and come to rest far too intimately between the tightening leather of his inner thighs.

'You can't be surprised that we care about you', he started after a moment of comfortable silence, leaning the side of your head to rest gingerly on his intact leg. 'That the whole crew has always cared about you. Look, someone even got you a mop-', you gestured to his side, trying to make him laugh before the sun rises, and thankfully you succeeded.

He shook his head out as if trying to refocus himself as his chuckle died out in his chest. He didn't want to laugh right now. He wanted to focus on the weight on his leg: on the feel of your nose brushing on the length of seam running up to his groin. He blinked back heavy tears that spread along his lashes, sniffling coarsely. He probably should laugh, he thought. He should be fucking howling, spitting, going rabid at the irony that the one thing he had been yearning his whole life was lying right there on his lap, and he only had a few hours left in his pathetic life to savour it.

'How are you doing, by the way? Seriously', you jolt your head up to watch him quizzically. He did his best not to meet your eye, choosing instead to stare at the black grains above Jim's slumped head. 'After, you know, everything that happened with Ed-'

'You don't need to worry about me', he sniffed, but his hand twitched as he lifted it up to rest on his thigh, just above the top of your head. 'It's my job to worry about all of you. Not the other way round.'

'When are you going to get it through your thick skull that we want to worry about you. This isn't some kind of weird mandate or self-preservation tactic on our part Izzy. You may be a fucking idiot, but you're our fucking idiot. Let us take care of you too, like you've been looking out for us.'

He squeezed his eyes shut, his head beginning to shake furiously enough to send his stray silver locks clambering over his eyes. He was glad for their cover, so he wouldn't have to see the way you had lurched forward: the way you were pleading with him with your eyes, as you rose onto your knees and pressed your hands firmly around his waist, just where the joint of his legs met the soft squish of his tummy.

'Don't you shake your head at me. We all know you've been trying to direct Blackbeard's anger your way. We do!' You cocked your head, trying to follow his face as he squirmed in your grasp. Losing your patience, you gripped his jaw with your thumb and pointer finger, directing Izzy's widening eyes back your way. 'We do, Izzy. We know what you've been doing for us. What you've been sacrificing. And I'm sorry - I'm sorry that none of this is fair. I'm sorry that any of this happened at all.'

One. Two. You tapped your finger a third time, your fingernail swirling over the fine nuances of the holster running over his sawed leg.

It had always been your little secret: a shared confidence, between you and Izzy. One tap. Two. Three on each other's arms after battles, three taps there on your shoulder before you went down to your bunk, three fleeting touches burning at the back of his spine to let him know that you were alright: to let him know that he was alright.

You only stopped when you heard a brisk inhale: a sharp whistle that broke through your indulgent repose and made Roach roll over. Thankfully, a moment later, the cook's arm was splayed out across the floor again, and his leg kicked out backwards with a swift jolt up poor Button's behind. Izzy, though. Izzy, despite the surprising tenderness of the moment, was almost smouldering. The muscle by the side of his femur began to writhe underneath just the point of your fingertip, the feeling of just your warmth making him feel too feeble. Too needy to even control the rest of his body; he desperately tried to reach out a hand to shove your shoulder back and push you away, but his mind was too busy swimming with the concentration of trying to remember how to inhale.

The sharp breaths he dragged in painfully were starting to worry you, as were the wracks of his spine as he seemed to writhe backwards and forwards, back arching off the wall before collapsing back down on itself painfully again.

He felt your hand clench around his back, guiding him to sit still again. You were close, far too close - your noses almost touching, as you took a risk and used your free hand to slowly.... god, so fucking slowly he felt like he was going to split in half. He looked like a wounded animal: something terrified of being hurt as his eyes stayed trained on your approaching fingers, face wary until your fingertips touched his hair and tucked it behind his ear.

And then he felt that warmth. That warmth against the shell of his ear. He bit down hard enough on his lip to draw blood, and for once, he was glad for the taste. It was comforting. Familiar. Deserved. He wasn't one for the fucking heartache of tenderness. And god, how his heart ached.

'Come on,' you nestled yourself between his legs again and perched your elbow up on his left leg. 'People must have cared about you before. Might as well get it all out in the open. Be honest with each other now.'

He paused, before the stubbornness wormed its way in again. 'No, they haven't-'

'Well, what about your parents? Your parents must have been kind. Besides, the crew obviously cares about you. I obviously care about you. Stop being so pig-headed.''

He startled you with a laugh: he seemed to choke on it, his teeth baring as he barked it out, yet he still couldn't seem to look at you quite yet. That's alright. You had an eternity left in these few hours.

Kindness?

He couldn't remember a time before joining Stede's crew that he had ever felt such a thing, let alone let it fester in the crevices of his ribcage until he felt the dreaded thing was going to claw its way out. Perhaps, if he let himself fester in the silence for a moment, an image of his mother would squirm its way out of his long repressed memories. Clawing and scratching and digging her pointed nails to dig her way out. No, his mother had never offered him a jot of comfort. She could stay buried in that coffin he had stuffed her down into, instead of rotting inside of him. He had enough barnacles to scrape off his body as it was.

It wasn't as if he had any surprisingly sweet memories of his life before. His mother had never been one for grace: her words always bit at his brain like a frenzied tempest, his actions never good enough. Once, when he was six years old, he had tottered up before the sun rose and followed his older brother down to the docks, trying to please his mother. Even so young, he had spent most of his years yearning to be seen as anything but the 'nuisance' or 'pest' his mother used to spit at his feet, and yearned to return with a line full of fish to please her. To help her with the chores that she always yammered his father had left her to rot with. Had left him. That he rotted away her youth. When he came slinking into the doorway, a nervous smile twitching at his ruddy cheeks, his mother had taken one look at the muddy, damp fringes of his trousers and had slapped him clean across the face for his troubles.

Another part of him remembered her warmth. The same that radiated off your palm as you spread your fingers across his knee; the way she would sometimes scutter into his bed at night, and he could smell the harsh sting of alcohol on her breath as she curled up and hugged him close against her chest. Of the way she would sometimes let him sit on her knee once the three of them had returned home after service, and she would brush back his growing hair and he would curl himself up to chase the stray ray of sunlight that glowed against her neck.

It had left him a Gordian mess of a man. Simultaneously spending his life seeking any kind of validation, any kind of affection, while his stubborn self-preservation did its best to push everyone away.And yet here you came, watching him with those sweet, sad eyes. Swinging the sword to undo him.

'I don't remember much about them', he replied curtly, but not unkindly. 'My father left us when I was young. I was... mainly left to my own devices.'

You nod slowly, letting his words thinking in. Letting the misery drenching every seething heave of his tongue wash over your head. 'Well', you began to rub your thumb in circles against his trousers, 'at least you have us here now. One good thing to add to the pile.'

There we go. The knot's slowly being undone.

You tried to smile, but the intensity of his gaze falling on you again unsettled you.

'You're right.' His voice was far too earnest for his own good. 'I have had one good thing in my life. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.'

You nearly jolted when you felt his hand smack down on top of yours. He had closed his eyes to try and hide himself from his discomfort, but his gloved fingers still slid between yours and squeezed despite himself. Once he was assured they were firmly intertwined: his own grasping tight enough to bust the leather at the stitching, he dared himself to finish his train of thought before he lost his nerve.

'I do... I do care about the crew. None of this was their fault, and they shouldn't have been fucking blamed for it. But I- I, I care about someone else far more than all of this twatty lot put together.'

It's a whisper into the darkness. A despairing yell of defiance against the solitude. A smothered light, long lingering and far longer forgotten. A spark of hope against the threat of ruination. It was a silver tear, glinting like starlight against his iris and falling with a content plop onto the back of your hand.

'I-I-', he stuttered out, clenching his teeth as he wills himself not to cry. 'I-'

The words refused to unlatch from his throat. Luckily, you were adept enough to notice the longing that drew a sad ache across his face.

'Izzy, I-'

'Let me finish', he stumbled out, his whole face now contorting as he struggled with the weight of it all. His bottom lip began to wobble against his will, face falling in on itself.

'I have-I have... love. For you. 'What I'm trying to say is'-, he shakes his head, chiding himself.

'Izzy, I know, it's alright. I know. I understand.' You grabbed tighter onto the back of your hand, enveloping it with your free one until his stopped shaking, begging him to realise you could see him.

'No-. No. If I don't say it now, I'm worried I never will.'

'Take your time, take your time. We have all the time in the world'. A sob finally gasped out from Izzy, chest heaving as he felt you draw his hands up towards your mouth. Still safe. Still warm. Still firmly cupped between your own, but the feel of your lips brushing against his knuckles was enough to send him reeling. The gentle peck that followed, though, was enough to finally let him break free.

A tentative finger reached out, checking for any signs of repulsion before landing awkwardly to point into the blade of your shoulder. He seemed to freeze: immobile marble frozen in fear as he seemed unaware as to what to next. After a few wary blinks, he clumsily spent a few seconds trying to manoeuvre the rest of his arm to cross across your back, before tugging your torso to lean closer towards him.

For a moment, it finally seems as if the world has skittered upright on his axis again. It felt normal. It felt right, feeling him grow comfortable with affection again as he melted, for the second time that week, into your hug. For his sake, as he burrowed his head into the pulse point of your neck until his stubble began to tickle your collar bone, you pretended not to hear the maimed whimpers that struggled past his closed lips.

The only time he moved was to raise his head up towards your nose, bumping it playfully against the tip of your own. Then another graze. A rub, and then another one, his eyes the whole time languidly drawn down to stare at your cupid's bow, until he slowly brought himself down to breathe unsteadily against your mouth. After a final moment of contemplation, he blinked placidly before closing his eyes and tilting his head to close the miniscule distance between the two of you.

His jaw was tense as you ran your finger down it, so busy trying to commit to his memory the pressure of your lips against his bottom one that he was forgetting to breath. But he didn't pull away. In fact, his hand clamped around your neck, digging almost painfully into your back as he stumblingly latched onto you, forcing himself further against your opening mouth. His hand found solace by cupping the back of your skull, chest squeezed against your breasts as he opened his lips and almost devoured you whole.

A loud 'awww!' erupted from your side, making the two of you jolt apart. The only problem was, Izzy's bottom lip had been rather firmly attached to yours. This meant that as you drew back, Izzy, in his stubborn unwillingness to let you go, let his bottom lip drag down along your inner mouth until a line of saliva connected your bottom lips, which only made the person the other side of the brig giggle even louder.

'You guys are cute', Black Pete yawned with a wakening stretch.

'Yes!', Roach chimed in as he teddy bear rolled his lanky legs round in front of him. 'I swear!', he continues, ostentatiously wiping his finger underneath his eye, 'I must be crying! I'm two seconds away from going up there and commencing our escape myself.'

With a tilt of your head that hit Izzy's chin, you looked at the cook incredulously. Izzy only gazed down at you past the crook of his nose, wonderstruck as the he let the words wash over his head.

'You. You really think you can take on all those very competent pirates up there.'

'Of course!'

'You cried for twenty minutes earlier about soup!'

Roach waved his hand unconvincingly in front of his face. 'Broth, it was broth! But I'm great with knives, remember! I have one hidden in my underwear right now!'

'Why... why is it in your underwear?', Oluwande piped in as he rested his head on the side of a barrel.

'Yeah, you weren't captured', Archie added, shuffling her own head off Jim's shoulder to look out past the bars. 'Why isn't it, I don't know, in your pocket or something.'

Even though Roach has opened his mouth to answer, his train of thought is broken by the tired grumble of another one of your friends. 'I hate to admit it, but that was actually very sweet', Lucius chimed in, twisting his lips into a shit-eating grin as he eyed the both of you up, another cigarette now firmly tucked in and freshly lit between his fingers as he took a drag.

'Is everyone on this fucking boat awake?!', Izzy cried, wrapping a hand protectively around your shoulder joint.

You snorted, burying your head protectively against the soft skin of his bellybutton. The sound of the crew beginning to argue with an increasingly impatient Izzy was like music to your ears; the monster was beginning to retreat.

No longer did it hang and shake and pierce the walls with its talons until it bled umbras. It retreated: chased away by the comely love of your crew. Of your family. Of the man who held you protectively against him, blinding you with his tender love.

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lila-lou · 4 months

Text

✨ His only exception - Pt. 6/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2515

A/N: This is part 6 of “His only exeption”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

You could both hear Frenchie, but neither you nor Ben wanted to be the one to look away first. Be the one to give in. For once, Frenchie realized he was out of place a little quicker than usual and ran away before things got too messy.

“I definitely don’t have to fucking justify myself to you. I'm fucking Soldier Boy. I don’t have to justify myself to anyone”, he stood in front of you with broad shoulders and looked down at you.

“That’s not the point”, you raised your voice, but you were put in your place faster than you would have liked. With his forearm on your chest, he pushed you against the wall next to the door.

Once again he was portrayed as the bad guy, even though all he wanted to do was help. Wanted to do the right thing. Ben thought you were different, that you saw something good in him, but obviously he was wrong.

“I think i went too soft on you. Know your fucking place or I’ll make you”, he growled threateningly, fixing his gaze on you for a moment longer. He shook his head pathetically, the corners of his mouth hanging as he heard your heart start to race. “Fucking pathetic. Like all fucking women”, he hissed, releasing you with a firm jerk.

Ben had to protect you both. Despite all the hate and anger within him, or perhaps because of it, he still behaved like a soldier.

He had to protect you from losing your life because of him or his actions, and he had to protect himself from being abandoned and disappointed by a woman again. He wouldn't let something like the the thing with the Russians happen again. Whatever made him want more from you, than your mouth around his cock, wouldn't be allowed from now on.

It was Annie who broke the silence between the two of you by entering the room. “Hey (y/n). How are you doing? How you feeling?”, she gently stroked your forearm. Your eyes stayed on Ben for a moment, but he fled, leaving the two of you alone.

"Good. I guess”, you mumbled, watching Ben leave.

Annie pressed her lips together as she saw your longing look. “Nuh-uh… (y/n)… Seriously. You don’t want this, trust me”, she sighed, looking at you with pity. “He’s not one of the good guys”.

“I don’t know what you mean” you murmur, wrapping your amre around your torso. Lost in thought, you chewed on your bottom lip as you continued to look at the door to the room.

“Mhmm, sure. Now try again”, Annie murmured.

Your eyes met Annie's and unfortunately revealed too much of what was going on. Feelings, that you neither could nor wanted to place, were boiling inside you.

Shaking your head slightly, you sighed, thanked Annie for looking out for your well-being, but then left the room.

After a long shower, you slipped into fresh clothes and walked past the living room, where Ben and the others were sitting, to leave the apartment. “Oi, where are you going?”, Butcher called to you, craning his head. A football game was playing in the background. “Just out. I need some fresh air”, you crossed your arms and looked into the living room from the door. “I don’t think that’s a good idea”, Butcher replied, putting his beer on the table. "Should I come with you?", Annie looked at you.

Ben was listening to your discussion about whether or not you should go out alone, but he acted as if his attention was just on the television.

“I’m a Supe now. What’s going to happen?”, you shrugged, earning a snide mockery from Ben. “You have something to say, huh?”. You narrow your eyes at Ben, who is sipping his bottle of whiskey. “Oh, absolutely not, Dollfface. Go out and have fun”, he gave you a fake smile. Butcher looked at the two of you and knew something was off. Why would Ben react like that to what you just said? But he couldn't put his finger on it. “All fucking amateurs”, Ben chuckled, standing up with his whiskey. Before he walked past you into his room, he stopped right in front of you and leaned so close that his lips touched your ear. “You'll notice soon”, he whispered, winking at you and leaving you confused.

“See you later”, you mumbled after a while to Butcher and left the apartment.

Ben should have told you, but he didn't. He didn't even know why. It would have been much safer for you to know.

You walked through the dark and empty streets, lost in thought, for over two hours. Aside from desperately trying to discover your abilities, you were busy trying to understand Ben's behavior. One moment he was kissing you, the next he was treating you like a worthless piece of shit. He had saved your life, but he was also the one who had put it in danger. You felt like you were hanging on a rope that he tightened or loosened at will.

But what did you actually want? In any case, you didn't want to be a Supe. Never. And now you have the crap. And then the whole thing with Ben. It felt like you hadn't had any other topic on your mind for weeks than him. It wasn't that you were in love with him, but rather that you tried to find justification in all of his actions, despite your actual dislike for Supes. Not seeing him as the bad guy. Like Annie. Or the others. You knew there was something good in him somewhere, even if he really didn't make it easy for you to stick to your beliefs. Despite your best efforts, you just couldn't put your finger on what made you so attached to Ben. Of course you had a similar sense of humor, often similar opinions and views and of course Ben was really good looking. But that wasn´t enough for… You couldn't even finish your thought, and probably wouldn't have wanted to, when suddenly someone landed on the floor behind you. With a force that almost knocked you to the ground.

“Well, look at that. Who do we have here?”. The Supe puts his hands on his hips behind you. “What is a beautiful young woman like you doing here all alone?”. Your breath hitched as you turned around to make sure it was who you thought it was. After you had been looking for him for months and there was no greater mission than to finally catch him alone and take him prisoner, the son of a bitch just stood in front of you.

"Are you speechless?", Homelander cocked his head to the side before taking a few steps towards you. You needed to somehow regain your nerve. “Homelander. Wow. What an honor”, you accomplished your acting masterpiece and bowed slightly. "Mhmm, all nice and polite. Well-bred. I’m almost thrilled”, he gave you a bright smile. “Of course you know who I am, but would you like to tell me your name?”, he was now standing directly in front of you. You knew that even as Supe you wouldn't stand a chance against Homelander. “(y/n)”, you said, quieter than you planned as his scent invaded your nose. Normally you wouldn't be so awkward and intimidated around Supes, but Homelander was different. Not only was he stronger than all the other Supes, he was also crazier.

“Pretty name, pretty girl. But seriously. Don't you know how dangerous it is out here this late? With the psychopath Soldier Boy on the loose”, he shook his head and clicked his tongue. You almost raised an eyebrow at his statement, but you stopped yourself at the last moment. He of all people said Ben was a psychopath.

“Oh, I'm a Supe too, it's okay. But thanks”, you waved and were about to leave, but Homelander’s laughter stopped you. "You? A supe? Hardly, darling. I can smell your human blood from miles away. Not to mention your off heartbeat”, he placed a hand on your shoulder.

Your eyes met and as a cold shiver of the bad kind ran down your spine, Homelander's pupils moved quickly and repeatedly left and right as his eyes narrowed. It seemed like he was trying to concentrate. His mouth opened and he raised a finger before putting it thoughtfully to his lips.

With much effort, Homelander could hear the Compound V in your blood and feel it pulsating under his hand on your shoulder. But it wasn't pure V. It was mixed. He frowned in confusion and surprise. And from one second to the next his expression was ice cold. How could you be alive with compound V in your blood and still be human? What were you?

"Who did this? Why are you still alive?", he pulled on your arm so hard that it almost broke. As shocked as you were, there was absolutely nothing you could do. Especially not when Homelander grabbed your jaw and squeezed it tight. "Answer me!", he roared before being thrown backwards with great force.

When you turned around, you saw Ben. Well, the pissed off version of Ben. With quick and heavy steps, he walked determinedly towards Homelander, who stood up again within seconds. "You did that!". He knew as soon as he recognized Soldier Boy. “If you want to fight, then fucking fight! But do like a man and stop scaring little girls, like a little pussy”, Ben hissed and swung his shield, but only hit the street, which immediately opened up as Homelander quickly turned to the side. "What was your plan?", Homelander looked at Ben with his crazy eyes and wide grin. Ben swung again, but missed his target again. “Did you want to equate her with us and it didn’t work? Maybe I should try it".

That was all Ben needed to escalate. With anger flaring within him, he lunged at Homelander and started a actual fight. Meanwhile, trying to ignore your dizziness and racing heart, you fished your phone out of your pocket and called Butcher.

"We'll be right there, darling", Butcher grinned on the other end of the line before gathering the others and heading out.

The minutes before Butcher and the others arrived seemed like hours. And all you could do was watch helplessly as Ben and Homelander beat each other to death.

However, when Ben was on the floor with Homelander on top of him and you saw Homelander's eyes start to glow red, you knew you had to do something. Ben’s chest began to glow too, but you knew he wouldn’t recharge in time. As if guided by an invisible force, you grabbed the nearest stick from the ground, run towards the two of them and ram the stick into Homelander's ear. He roared, fell to the ground and while you were still on top of Ben and his burning chest, Ben pushed you away with all his strength before finally exploding.

It was a blessing that Butcher showed up at that exact moment and with great difficulty catched you before you hit the ground. While Annie sprinted off with Hughie to find Homelander, Butcher handed you off to MM before he and Kimiko ran into the cloud of dust surrounding Soldier Boy.

“It’s okay, I can stand”, you murmured. MM carefully lowered you to the ground, keeping an eye on you as you frantically asked about Ben. You started to run, but Frenchie stopped you with a hug from behind. “Wait”, he murmured and like MM, looked expectantly at the dust that was slowly but surely dissipating.

It seemed like you couldn't catch your breath until you saw Ben walking towards you. As always, unharmed. When he arrived with Butcher and Kimiko, he brushed the dust off his suit and looked around. “Fucking pussy. Hiding somewhere”, he cursed under his breath as he continued to look out for Homelander, not noticing how his arm had found its way around your waist. He held you protectively, just inches away from his body as he scanned the entire area. Butcher looked at the two of you thoughtfully, but was brought out of his thoughts by Kimiko, who nudged him with her elbow as Hughie and Annie returned. “There’s no sign of Homelander", Hughie announced between heavy breaths. "Fucking amazing!”, Butcher cursed loudly and hit the nearest lantern so hard that it fell over and shattered with a loud crack.

As Butcher and Hughie discussed what to do, you only now became aware of Ben's tight grip on your body. You looked up at him, breathless. Only when your eyes met did he lower his arm and take a step away from you.

A few minutes later you were in the backseat of Hughie's car with Ben. Annie at the wheel and Hughie in the passenger seat.

“How did you even know where I was?”, You looked sideways at Ben as he swallowed a few pills so he wouldn’t have to endure all this shit sober anymore. “Don’t bother”, he murmured, crossing his arms and closing his eyes, hoping you would let the subject go. “The fuck, Ben. Why can’t you just talk to me?”, you raised both hands angrily. "Why can't you just shut the fuck up?", he replied monotonously, his eyes still closed.

You just groaned in annoyance because you knew he wouldn't tell you anything in front of Annie and Hughie anyway. His moods would probably give you whiplash at some point.

When you got home, you wanted nothing more than to fall into your soft and warm bed and forget the last 3 days. Unfortunately, Butcher had other plans. First he wanted to discuss what had just happened.

The meeting went slowly. And while Ben could at least get drunk and snort one line after another, you had to endure it all sober and tired. You felt like you were at marriage counseling as Butcher paced in front of you and the couch, you answered questions, and Ben either sniffed oder drank.

When Butcher finally left you alone after almost an hour, you followed Ben into his room.

“(y/n). Seriously. What the fuck do you want?”, He groaned in annoyance as he sank onto his bed and you closed the door behind him.

“I wanted to thank you. For saving my life. Again”, you sighed, dropping your hands. “And", you walked over to him and sat down onto the bed next to Ben. “I want to know what all the Supe Blood stuff means. Homelander said I wasn't a Supe. What am I? What have you done to me, Ben?”.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 7

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch @mimaria420 @kaz11283 @uncle-eggy

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x y/n #the boys #billy butcher #hughie campbell #homelander

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angelbarelywrites · 2 months

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♡ scenarios | dating billy

♡ fandoms; The Boys

♡ characters; Billy Butcher

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; explicit sexual content

♡ notes; he’s the bane of my existence + love of my life tbh

reader isss implied to be working with Billy and in my mind a supe but i made it ambiguous since i didn’t write a meeting section :v but i love the idea of Billy falling for a supe so much

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

I. Kisses/ PDA

> he doesn’t like PDA…or at least that’s what he claims

> Frenchie and Marv give him shit- and Hughie is so supportive it makes him angrier than the others giving him shit

> but tbh they’re all happy to see him happy, and he knows that somewhere under that thick skull off his

> so when you give him a kiss or hold his hand or hug him in the base he grumbles, but he never pushes you away or actually complains

> and sometimes he’ll haphazardly pull you against him without saying a word, cheeks a bit pink as he mumbles something into your hair

> usually a ‘good job’ if it fits the occasion, otherwise a comment about how his coworkers are idiots

> now undercover, it’s a different story

> everyone is a potential threat then- and even worse, everyone is potentially going to bother you

> if he even gets a whiff of someone looking you over he’s got an arm around your waist and a hand not so subtly on his holster

> if you want to get any actual surveillance done you have to shoo him away so he doesn’t scare anyone off

> and even then he’s checking in way more often than he needs to

> it’s hard to get mad at, because it’s sweet in his stubborn, assholeish way

> and if you don’t care about surveillance it’s easy to get him riled by playing into it

> and then he’ll kiss you hard right in front of whatever chucklefuck was eying you

> “hope he’s enjoying the bleedin’ view”

> he’s a big cuddler when you’re alone- another thing he’d never admit

> but he loves when you snuggle up with your head on his chest, listening to his heart and nearly dozing while he goes through files

> or when you’re exhausted on the van ride home and make sure no one is paying attention as you hold with his hand in the front seat, rubbing his probably bloodied knuckles and pressing soft kisses them

> he likes your little late night rendezvous the best, though

> you’re both bad at sleeping, so most nights in the base he’ll find you in the kitchen near midnight brewing chai

> you’ll be sitting on the counter in one of his shirts and smile brightly despite the bags under your eyes

> and then when he comes over and puts a hand on either side of you, you trap him in your legs

> the kisses are sometimes heated, sometimes chaste

> but either way you enjoy the tea, and spend the rest of the restless night together

II. Sharing a bed

> when you’re all living in hiding, space is tight under the pawnshop

> you’ve both got shitty little twin beds, and he’s always complaining about space

> but the nights are getting cold and the heater barely works, so you hatch your evil scheme

> evil scheme might get giving it too much credit. like way too much

> all you plan on is asking to snuggle and never leaving his bed

> but he’s taking forever to get whatever he’s doing done, and you’re tired

> no biggie, you’ll just crawl in and wait for him so you can ask

> the next thing you know it’s two a.m. and he’s nudging you

> “oi. who said you could be in here?”

> you whine and give him the biggest pout, eyes all hazy from sleep

> and not wearing all that much either

> he sighs but you can hear the smile in his voice “c’mon then love.”

> before you can scooch over he’s pulling you on top of him completely, making you feel tiny on his broad chest

> he tried not to seem too delighted when you’re there again the next night

III. Let’s get kinky

> listen. i swear i don’t think every character has a daddy kink. just all the ones i’m super attached to

> but he canonically referred to himself as daddy and that’s not leaving my brain anytime soon. so.

> he refers to you as so many sweet nicknames- and he likes to pair them with a healthy mix of degradation and praise

> “you’re a filthy fuckin’ whore aren’t yah sweetheart?”

> his default is rough. he’s a frustrated man, and he’s been pent up for a while now

> but you can take it. probably.

> he likes choking. and spanking, he loves when you’re a brat and he can bend you over his knee

> mostly because then he can finger fuck you right then and there when he’s done and make you a complete mess

> if you wear makeup he thinks it’s twice as nice with your lipstick smudged and mascara running down your cheeks

> and you look prettiest to him on your knees, already a bit teary and sucking on his fingers until you’ve earned the real thing

> he wants to breed you so bad it makes him look stupid. (tbh not literally, even if it is possible, but god the dirty talk is so good that it doesn’t matter)

> his favorite position is reverse cowgirl- he loves seeing you whine and slowly ease yourself onto him

> and to me- he’s an ass man lmao, he loves watching it as you bounce on his cock

#reader insert #gn reader #gender neutral reader #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #william butcher #the boys #cw sex #cw kink

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londonspirit · 8 months

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Was there ever any doubt that Our Flag Means Death Season 2 wouldn't end in thrilling fashion after taking all of us on a rollercoaster of emotions? Probably not, but show creator David Jenkins and writer John Mahone, who teamed up on the script for the finale episode, seemed distinctly driven to squeeze as many tears out of us watching as possible. With the dynamic between Stede (Rhys Darby) and Ed (Taika Waititi) seemingly fractured as of the season's penultimate installment, it was unclear how — or if — the two men might eventually reconcile, but a new threat to the Republic of Pirates, alongside Ed's realization that maybe he isn't meant to be a fisherman after all, sends the two back into each other's arms, literally.

While some characters are afforded something resembling a happy ending, with Stede and Ed deciding to try their hand at being innkeepers as they watch the Revenge sail off into the sunset under Frenchie's (Joel Fry) command, not every single crew member emerges from the finale battle unscathed, chief among them Ed's first mate and formerly ruthless right-hand Izzy Hands (Con O'Neill), whose parting words to Ed may be the very thing that the former Blackbeard needs to hear in order to fully come to terms with accepting the man inside him all along.

Ahead of the Season 2 finale premiering on Max, Collider had the opportunity to reconnect with Jenkins to discuss some of the episode's biggest moments. Over the course of the interview, which you can read below, Jenkins explains why Izzy's speech is both a eulogy for the character and a statement about the show itself, how the Season 2 premiere and finale bookend each other with those beach scenes, and why he wanted to use that Nina Simone needle drop in particular. He also discusses why the season concludes with a wedding at sea, what the finale sets up for Season 3, and more.

COLLIDER: I feel like my first question, in a completely non-serious way, is: how dare you, and my immediate follow-up is: what gives you the right?

DAVID JENKINS: I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Also, I am God to these creatures! But it was hard. It was a hard decision.

The episode kicks off with a somewhat more lighthearted moment, which is Ed realizing he's not cut out for the fishing life after all. On the heels of Stede and Ed’s big fight in the episode prior, why did it feel important to have Ed humorously have the revelation of, “This isn't what I really want after all?”

JENKINS: Well, I like the idea that Season 1 is about Stede’s midlife crisis, and Season 2 is about Ed's midlife crisis. I like that he had a little prima donna moment where he thought he could go and be a simple man, and then it's revealed that he really isn't a simple man; he’s a complicated, fussy, moody guy. No, he's not gonna be able to catch fish for a living. For him to be told that, “At your heart, you're a pirate. You have to go back and do it,” he doesn't want that to be true, but it was true.

Speaking of characters that have a revelation about themselves, Izzy's speech about piracy, about belonging to something and finding family, feels like the thesis statement of this show. Was that the intention behind it?

JENKINS: When I wrote that, I wanted to give Izzy a proper eulogy for himself. He gives a eulogy for himself, but it felt true writing it. Yeah, this is how he sees piracy, and also that's not how he would have viewed piracy in the first season. He would have viewed it as, “I'm here to dominate you, so you work for the boss.” By the end of his journey in the second season, he sees that they built him a unicorn leg, he learned to whittle, and he mentored Stede. He's learned that, actually, a pirate crew works differently than what he thought and that they are all in it together, and they do this for each other. So it felt right for Izzy’s arc, and it is kind of an overall statement about the show.

It's interesting that you call it a eulogy, because, by the time we get to the scene where we know Izzy's not going to make it, it feels like he's using his last moments for Ed more than himself. He has those final words to Ed of, “They love you for who you are. Just be Ed.” Is that the kind of the thing that Ed needs to hear in the moment — even as he's losing, arguably, someone he's known even longer than Stede and is just as close to on an emotional level?

JENKINS: Well, I like that Izzy gives that to him, and then Izzy also apologizes to him because he says that he fed his darkness and that they were both Blackbeard together — that Blackbeard wasn't just Ed, that they did it together. In a way, it's very much for Ed, that speech. The “we were Blackbeard” is claiming that he is also Blackbeard, that Blackbeard is not just Ed’s creation, and I like that for him, too, because he's worked so hard for that — and then just to say, “You can give it up.” There can never be a Blackbeard again as far as Izzy’s concerned because he's dying, and they did that together.

I wanted to ask you about the Stede/Ed reunion. We get Ed finding Stede's love letter that was written all the way at the beginning, and then also the beach fight/reunion. It's definitely a callback to the dream, but was that always the way that you wanted to bookend the season? Here's the dream and the fantasy, and then this is the real moment that we get to have?

JENKINS: It was nice. I knew that I wanted to have the Republic of Pirates at the beginning and end up with the Republic of Pirates. I think the reunion of it was a nice surprise, but it felt right. And finding the letter in a bottle — if you have a letter in a bottle, it's thrown out somewhere, it has to pop up somewhere, you have to see one of them at some point. But yeah, there's a circular nature to it, and that's why I thought it would be good to use Nina Simone at the beginning and at the end as a callback. This dream in this way did come true, and they made it come true.

When I talked to you at the beginning of the season, you mentioned the Nina Simone needle drop, but couldn't say anything about the significance of it at the time. I talked to [music supervisor] Maggie [Phillips], as well, about the needle drops throughout Season 2, and she said you always had a very clear vision for what song you wanted there. A lot of people know the original, but why did you pick Nina's cover? It strikes a different tone; there's a hopefulness to it in a lot of ways.

JENKINS: Yeah, it's wistful. There's a lovely part that sounds like church bells, which is great for the wedding part of it, and then it's just moving. I love her interpretation of it. It’s wistful, positive, and it felt like the end of the show to me. There's a size to it that, up against these images, I just was like, "Yeah, this would be really good. I want this to be in the show."

I did want to ask you about the wedding because on the heels of Izzy's death, it's bittersweet, but also, it's a sign this crew has become a family, and they can still find happy moments and reasons to celebrate. We’ve seen Black Pete and Lucius reconnect, but also reconcile and navigate through Lucius's problems and have their own, almost parallel trajectory journey as a couple alongside Stede and Ed in a way. Was that something that you always wanted to close the season on, the two of them getting hitched?

JENKINS: Yeah. We knew we wanted a matelotage in the season, which is the real term they had for marrying crew members. And yeah, they've always been in relief to Stede and Ed, and they're a little bit ahead of Stede and Ed in how much they can talk about things. So to have a bunch of family things in the season, like a funeral and a wedding, and have the parents kind of watch the kids sail away, felt right, and all of those things seem to work well together and build on each other.

Speaking of Ed and Stede watching everybody sail off, that was an outcome that was somewhat surprising, I think because where they are, you think maybe they're going to end up sailing off with everybody else.” But no, instead, it's just this sweet, lovely note of them getting to play house for a little while. What inspired that turn for them?

JENKINS: I think that they've come to the point in the relationship where they say, “Yeah, we're gonna give this a try,” and that's where the story really gets interesting. That will-they-or-won't-they is interesting to a point, but the real meat of it is always like, “Can they make the relationship, and can they do better than Anne and Mary?” That's the question that we all ask ourselves when we end up in a serious relationship is: can we make this work, and can we get through the hard times? Then they're both very damaged, and it's gonna be a challenge for them, and that's where the story gets interesting.

I'm not sure you can really tease much for a Season 3, but we talked before about how you have your vision for where you want to take this, and based on what we see at the end of Season 2, the implication is that we're going to have Stede and Ed off together, but is the plan to also continue with the other characters as well in their own places?

JENKINS: Yeah. Frenchie’s in charge of the Revenge, and I think Frenchie's Revenge would be an interesting place to work and an interesting ship to be raided by. Then I think that the Revenge means a lot to Stede, and it would be very hard for him to give it up, and he hasn't had a great track record of that. So I think the odds of them all finding each other again are quite high.

All episodes of Our Flag Means Death Season 2 are available to stream on Max.

#our flag means death season 2 #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #spoiler #our flag means death #ofmd #david jenkins #interview #collider article

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gallavichsreddie1128 · 1 month

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You’re A Supe (Billy Butcher)

Description: Y/N is a supe so Billy hates her until she saves his life

Word Count: 1,521K

His glare was unsettling towards the Supe as she sat next to Kumiko. He hated that she was there, he already had to deal with Starlight. Thanks to Hughie. She hadn’t done anything for him to hate her but he believed that anyone that was a Supe was bad. That simply wasn’t true but Billy didn’t see that. Starlight and Y/N were part of The Seven so that made him even more skeptical of them.

He watched with hatred as Y/N laughed at something Frenchie had said. Her smile was sweet and her laugh was adorable but Billy hated it. She wasn’t scared of him but found him to be a dick. He wasn’t nice to her at all. Everyone else was nice to her but him. “Will you cunts shut the hell up?” He asked, annoyed. He got up and walked to his bedroom. Y/N watched him as he walked away. Wondering why he hated her so much. She sighed and got up to go to Kumiko’s room.

The two were the only ones up, awkwardness filled the room as she entered the kitchen. He tensed up and sighed not wanting to be around her. She saw this and frowned. She opened the fridge and grabbed the orange juice and went to grab a cup but couldn’t reach it. Billy watched her struggle to grab the cup. “Hey, can you grab the cup for me please?” She asked him. “Use your super powers.” He tells her and walks away. “I don’t have that kind of power.” she said but he was gone. She sighed and put the orange juice away.

“Are you coming?” Hughie asked. She shook her head. “No, I’m tired.” She yawned. “You’re coming with us. You aren’t staying here by yourself.” Billy tells her. “Butcher-” MM starts but Billy interrupts “I don’t need a Supe destroying the place.” She stood up from the couch so fast. “What is your problem with me?” She asked, glaring at him. “You’re a fucking Supe, love. Ain’t that obvious?” “I haven’t done a damn thing to you.” She growled. “Yet.” He growled back. “I get that Homelander hurt you but that’s not an excuse for you to blame the rest of us.” “You don’t know what you’re talking about little girl.” “What he did to your wife I know that-” “DON’T TALK ABOUT MY WIFE YOU DIRTY FUCKING WHORE.” He yelled at her.

The silence was all through the room as they stared at each other. “You can act like ya hate Homelander and Vought but deep down inside you’re a no good piece of shit just like the rest of them. If it wasn’t for everyone else in this fuckin’ room you wouldn’t be here. Everyone knows I don’t want you here, I want you to fuck off.” He growls. Her eyes filled with tears as he degraded her in front of everyone. “Cat got your tongue?” Billy asked her, smirking. She didn’t say anything. She just walked away and out of the apartment, everyone calling her name.

Tears streamed down her face as she walked to the Vought towers. The words Billy said to her replayed in her head like a record player that was broken. She hated that his words affected her this much. All she's ever been was nice to him but look where that got her. She walked in the towers and to her room where she collapsed on the bed and cried. That was until she heard a big crash. She got up confused as to what could be going on. Maybe Homelander was throwing another tantrum. Gosh she hated that cunt more than anything. She chuckled at herself for using that word in her head. Fucking Billy, always using that word. The loud crashes continued and she sighed and changed into her suit. She got down to where the noises were coming from and gasped.

The Boys and Homelander were fighting. “Oh my god.” She whispered. Homelander turned towards her. “Y/N hey. Come here to help?” Homelander asked. She looked at him. “What is going on?” She asked walking up to them. “Oh like you don’t know. These assholes are trying to take us down.” He said. “Homelander whatever you’re doing you need to stop.” She told him. He laughed. “You don’t think I know.” He turned to her. “You don’t think I know that you’ve been helping them.” He growled and walked closer to her. She took a step back. He grabbed her by her neck and choked her. “Homelander.” Starlight yelled.

“You dirty whore, you really thought I wouldn’t find out that you’ve been helping them.” She squirmed as he had her off the ground. “Fuck you.” She choked out. He squeezed her harder making her gasp out. Starlight hit him with her powers, making him drop Y/N. She gasped out, catching her breath as Homelander and Starlight fought. She got up to help Starlight fight the bastard. Billy kept shooting at Homelander but that wasn’t helping. “Let em go you cunt.” He yelled at him. Homelander turned to Billy ready to laser him. “No.” Y/N yelled and jumped in front of Billy making the laser hit her instead. Everyone gasped as Homelander lasered her.

She fell down and Billy dropped to his knees cradling her in his arms. “You saved my life.” He whispered to her as she looked up at him, breathing hard. She smiled at him. “Not all Supes are bad, huh?” She asked, making him roll his eyes. Her body was healing the wounded stomach. “Guys I can’t hold him much longer!” Starlight yelled as her, Kumiko and Homelander kept fighting. Y/N gained enough energy to get out of Billy’s arms and help. Queen Maeve had turned up to help them. In the end Homelander was bloody but not dead.

He was wounded badly as the girls watched him. He glared at them and flew back inside the towers. Y/N turned to the group and looked at them. “Why the hell were you guys fighting Homelander?” She asked. “Well we came to find you and he happened to be here.” Hughie said. She shook her head and laughed. “You guys shouldn’t have.” She told them. “Well we were making Butcher apologize.” MM said. Y/N looked at Butcher. For once,

He didn’t have the deadly stare and hate towards her. “Yeah these Cunts were going to make me but I’m not being forced to now.” He said. The others took that as que to walk away leaving the two. “I’m sorry for being a cunt to you, luv. You didn’t deserve any of the words that I said to ya. You saved my life and I owe you for that.” He said. She walked up to him with a smile. “I’m glad you realized that all Supes aren’t bad.” She said.

Ever since then they have been on good terms. Butcher no longer hated her and even had feelings for her. But he planned to never tell her, thinking that she wouldn’t like him after all the things he said. He was wrong, she had feelings for him as well. But they were stubborn about these feelings and everyone around them knew. “Y/N tell him.” Annie would say to her. “Billy, you should tell her.” Hughie said to the man.

They both would shake their heads and say that the feeling couldn’t be mutual. But when she got up and went into the kitchen Billy was there and with her glass of OJ. “Thank you.” She said and took the cup with a smile. “Figured you would like some.” He said and she laughed. “I do, every morning.” She said and took a sip. Billy stared at her as she enjoyed her drink. She looked beautiful. Her hair was a mess and she didn’t have any makeup on but looked like a dream. She noticed that he was staring at her.

She set the glass down and looked at him. “Ya got a staring problem, Butcher?” She asked with a smile. He chuckled and smiled. “When you look as beautiful as ya do, luv.” She walked closer to him with no words. He stared at her as she reached up and cupped his face. She gave a small smile and he kissed her. His hands pulled her body closer as they kissed. She wrapped her other arm around his neck, standing on her tippy toes trying to deepen the kiss. That made him chuckle into the kiss. He lifted her up onto the counter making her gasp.

He took that as an opportunity to slip his tongue in her mouth. They heavily made out as her hands rubbed up his chest. His hands moved up her long shirt and massaged her boobs, making her gasp into the kiss. “Billy, maybe we shouldn’t fuck on the counter.” She said. “You’re right. You deserved to be fucked properly, on a bed.” He said, making her moan at his words. He picked her up and ran to the bedroom dropping her on bed making her laugh. Maybe Supes aren’t bad after all.

#the boys #the boys imagine #the boys amazon #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher imagine #billy butcher #karl urban #homelander #the boys x reader

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joelmillerisapunk · 16 days

Text

WIP Wednesday

Tysm @milla-frenchy for the tag 🥰

I have a million things in my docs, it's a disaster in there 😅

Wine daddy/sending the wrong nude to your dbf instead of your tinder match

The next morning, you wake up to a message notification. Your heart leaps, thinking it's Tinder Joel, but as you reach for your phone, a sense of dread washes over you. The message is from your father's best friend, Joel Miller, a man you've known since childhood and who has seen you grow up. The preview of the message is enough to make your blood run cold.

11:58: "I think you might have sent this to the wrong person, sweetheart."

Panic sets in as you read the full message and your face flames with embarrassment. You type out a flurry of apologies, each one more frantic than the last. Joel's response is swift and unexpected

8:05am: It's all good, baby girl. You don't need those Tinder boys when I'm right here for ya.

Determined to apologize in person and clear the air, you find yourself outside the sleek glass building that houses Joel's wine company Vita Vino: where every sip is a celebration of life. You certainly don't feel very celebratory at this moment. The receptionist leads you up to the top floor, where Joel's office overlooks the city with floor-to-ceiling windows.

Some random thing I just found in my docs

You reach out tentatively, your fingers brushing against the coarse hair on his legs, feeling the solid muscle beneath his skin. You let your hand drift over to where his boxers lay. With a mixture of reverence and desire, you hook your fingers under the fabric and carefully pull it down just enough to reveal what lies beneath. His cock is there in its resting state—impressive even in repose—thick and long with a softness that belies its potential for hardness and power. You remember how it feels when it grows rigid in your hand or against your thighs; how it fills you completely when he's inside you; how it satisfies an ache within you that only he can reach.

Npts: @pascalssbabyy @sawymredfox @mermaidgirl30 @katiexpunk

@604to647 @bitchesuntitled @alltheirdamn @sixhours @pedrosarmsling

@aurorawritestoescape @vivian-pascal @mothandpidgeon @starry-eyes-love @magpiepills

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut

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piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 20 days

Note

Regarding this post (https://www.tumblr.com/piratecaptainscaptainpirates/750832838350340096/okay-so-theres-one-thing-that-im-kind-of-tired), the racism of Stede having the crew members of color acting as servants was clear, but I always thought he did that because that's what Badminton and his officers would expect. If he had had everyone sit at the table, or even if he'd had the "servants" be both white and PoC, that would have given the ruse away. I saw it as Stede pulling off his first fuckery before he even knew what a fuckery was, and creating what he thought would appear to Badminton as "a bunch of upper crust lads trying their hand at the seafaring life". In other words, he was well aware that it was racist but asked his crew to go along with it so they could get Badminton and his officers off the ship as quickly as possible. Had Wellington not been such a blatant racist prick, they might have succeeded, but Jim was never gonna let that behavior slide. Quite right too.

Now, in S1E2, him and Pete thinking that the tribe were cooking and eating their hostages was incredibly racist and they absolutely deserved to be called out on that. But I never got the sense, even in those early episodes, that Stede treated his PoC crewmembers any differently or worse than he treated his white crewmembers. And especially with Olu and Jim, he valued their advice and counsel, and Olu had no issues speaking his mind to Stede, which to me meant that he never felt threatened by Stede or worried that Stede would abuse him or anyone else on the crew.

If I've misinterpreted Stede's actions, please let me know. I'm white, so I know I don't see a lot of the micro aggressions that you see every day, though I have been working on actively listening and learning.

Hey there! I don't disagree with any of your points here, but I think there are wrinkles!

Was Stede just falling back on the easiest option to allay suspicion? Absolutely! Was it still a racist move? You bet!

See, I think Stede's first fuckery is the "ghost of the forest" bit in s1e2, and this is more...him leaning back on established social hierarchy. He fails to think outside the box in a way that would allow all of his crew members to feel respected. Think about how Frenchie gets himself and Olu onto the party boat - by thinking up a creative story. Stede thought up backstories for his white crew. His crew members of color could have been African royalty, rich benefactors, envoys from distant lands...the possibilities of avoiding suspicion are endless, and they could've even used these exoticizing tropes their guests were unlikely to see through as a way to boost the Revenge's apparent prestige for their guests.

The important thing to remember here, I think, is that Stede's plan in the pilot fails not in spite of the racism of it but because of that. If their guests had known that it would be not only inappropriate but a social faux-pas to insult the crew members of color, then there never would have been a need to fight back against an escalation in racist language.

And I don't disagree that Stede doesn't treat his crew members of color differently! My point is rather that his racist biases are an important facet of his general ignorance of the lived experiences of others - like, he genuinely doesn't really get that most people are pirates because they have no other choice (there's a huge racial component there, no coincidence we hear it from Olu), he doesn't realize most of his crew will be illiterate, he fails to account for the differences in lived experiences he's enjoyed thanks to his relaive privilege. In these early episodes, he talks at the crew, not with them.

I love Stede and his journey so so so much! And every time I rewatch the show I love seeing all these ways that he's grown and learned.

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thesilmarillionblog · 1 month

Text

Protect Me From What I Want

Chapter 1: Don't try to fight the storm, You'll tumble overboard.

Summary: You've been working with Butcher and his team since your sister died in a plane crash caused by Homelander, and months later, you met Soldier Boy. Drowning between hatred and your desire to have your vengeance, you have to face your feelings for Soldier Boy eventually.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Female! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Hurt, Language, Asshole Soldier Boy, Mention of Death

Word Count: 2106

A/N: English is not my first language.

Its been a year since the greatest supe ever known of America woken from his forty years of sleep, and it did not even take a large amount of time for your thoughts to revolve around him only. Oppressed with grief, your life has been consuming you inside since your sister died in a plane crash caused by Homelander. It changed many things. It made Butcher and his team find you; it turned you into something you couldn't name anymore. Each passing day was the same. You were all alone with despair when darkness took over the daylight; you knew you did not even mourn properly for your sister. What's worse was that you had fought just before the flight. Funny, that was the only time you two had a fight in twenty-three years, and it was over for nothing. Time heals, they say. They are all wrong. It won't heal a shit till it kills and throws you away with one last heavy strike.

The day you rescued Soldier Boy was definitely a hard day to forget. He looked like an unleashed, savage animal freed from a cage. Actually, he was literally something like that. Ben was so hard to control. Besides, the worst thing about himself was not his character; it was his erratic, nuclear-muscled chest, ready to blow up anytime. It was a hidden menace under his thick skin.

At first, you weren't sure if Homelander or Ben were worse. Probably both were pure supe evils in their own unique way. After all, intentionally or unintentionally, they both hurt many people.

All things aside, at least you were certain about one thing you truly craved for. The only thing. Homelander must die.

Walking on tiptoe, your heart was beating fast, and it was not the first time. Your palm was sweaty around the pistol, and your knuckles probably turned white. No need to be humble; you were a good shooter, a very good one, but you weren't sure if you could aim right into the eyes of the supe you were looking for when the right time came. Ben gave you the big eye and almost chuckled. You knew his senses as a supe were highly developed, and that made things embarrassing for you. In addition, the house being so silent and dark was another problem.

You did not know when all these things started when he made you feel such things. Maybe it was just a silly and temporary crush that would disappear sooner or later. However, as time passed, the way you reacted around him just grew irrevocably stronger. It was getting out of hand or already did. You hated that feeling but loved it; you also despised it and became obsessed with it. He was hard to ignore in every way, especially when he was that heartbreakingly handsome.

“Hey,” he said mockingly. “Why so excited suddenly?”

You were both grateful and angry with Butcher for leaving you alone with Ben in such a place like this. You were chosen to work with Ben most of the time since he broke Hughie's arm, got into a fight with Annie and Frenchie, and threw Butcher to the tree. Lucky for him, he was on Compound V, so, no one wanted to spend a single second with him. Especially Hughie was scared as fuck of him.

The only one who did not have a fight with Ben was Kimiko, as she never said a word at all that could make him mad in any way. Though you knew Kimiko was even more savage talking to Ben with sign language, you never dared or needed to translate her words directly.

Checking around nervously, you took a deep breath. “I am not excited.”

“Don't worry, it's not a big deal,” he continued, ignoring what you've just said. “I am used to such things.”

“What things?”

“You know,” he sighed. “Knowing that the strongest supe in the world is with you right now in this house and all alone got you wet. I’m sure your clit is flickering with such excitement that you might cum any moment.”

Judging by the look on his face as he went on acting his fingers obcenely and not stopping talking in an inappropriate way, he was amused. You just wanted to shut his voice completely down. He was not familiar with embarrassment at all. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes, waiting for him to finish his pornographic ted talk.

Taking back some steps from him “Have you totally lost your mind? Every single thing you say is so gross and nasty,” you finally said. “You're so delusional; you should have been an author.”

It wasn't the first time he teased you. His choice of words was getting more obscene each time, even though you never took them seriously. The things he said caused pathetic butterflies to punch your stomach hard. But you knew Ben was being like this to everyone. It was in his nature, after all.

“Say delusional one more time and see what happens.” His sharpened eyes were fixed on you.

Fuck Butcher.

“Ben,” you whispered nervously. You got closer to him and touched his chest hesitantly.It would be a terrible idea to get on Ben's sensitive nerves. It would be easier if Butcher was there. “Are you on coke?”

“Course I am.”

Pushing your hands away from his chest with a rough move, Ben looked around cautiously, searching for any sign of the supe.

You followed in his footsteps. “Do you hear anything?”

“No.”

Stopping for a moment, you sighed. You did not want to push his buttons any further. “Is it true that this Supe can play with memories? Does she change them? Like mind control?”

“Worse.”

You felt his posture suddenly get serious.

“How?”

“The slut has a strange talent that can make you see stupid things, things you desire the most. They’re all fake and all made up stuff. Total bullshit.”

“What happens if you see them, though?”

“It’s impossible to wake up if you are a little pussy. You'd trap yourself like a rat driven by pathetic fake scenarios just because your little brain is a weak shithole and you’re just too scared to face reality. That’s it."

The way he sounded made you even more curious.

“You sound like you experienced it,” you said, raising your eyebrows.

Judging by the way he sounded, you were sure he experienced every single thing he mentioned. But what could be Soldier Boy's nightmare or dream? You were dying to know what he desired the most. What on earth would be his dream? He always looked so confident and sure of himself. It was like there would be nothing in the world he would ever desire. Of course, it would be Crimson Cuntess. Remembering the way he looked at her with disappointment made your stomach crumble in pain and despair.

“Absolutely nothing,” he insisted. “Only pussies desire things they can't get, right? I am smart, and I can have everything I want, sweetheart.”

“I thought it would be Crimson Countess,” you murmered, hoping he would not get mad. You needed him to deny it so bad.

Looking at him with pleading eyes and waiting patiently, he looked genuinely lost in thought for a moment.

“Jealous?”

Looking away, you said, “Why on earth would I be jealous?” You would make him believe you easily if you did not sound that needy and weren't flushed. You could never be completely honest with him. How could you?

Putting his left hand on your chin, he murmured. “You’re so obvious.. Do you really think I’m not aware of the way you look at me?”

With a heavy heart, you looked up at him with beseeching eyes.

“I don't understand what you mean at all.”

“You do,” he insisted indifferently. “I know, you wish you were her, I know you’re so envious of her that you would even let me fuck you as I like it if I made a move, right?” he paused and snickered. Your heartbeat skipped at his harsh words.

You made a move to get away from him, but his grip on your chin tightened hard enough to hurt, so you stopped moving, surrending his cruelty for a moment to catch your breath and let him do whatever he had on his mind.

Despite his roughness, you put your hand on his daring one softly, savoring his touch unintentionally as you try to push him away with helpless and meaningless attempts, hoping to show your affection for him. He didn’t make a move. Getting even closer, his broad chest touched yours ungently. Ben curled his lips into a mischievous smile and lowered his hand to where your heart is. When you felt his forearm touch your nipple, you gasped for breath and struggled determinedly not to melt into his warm touch.

Knowing his hand could easily rip your heart from your chest in a second should have been enough to take him out of your heart and mind right there, but it was always easier to blame destiny and others for what happened and is about to happen. Moreover, his being that dominant, confident, and powerful made your stomach curl in excitement.

“You’re wrong, Ben,” you denied.

You were angry at yourself for being like this and feeling that way. Between all things.. your sister and everything that happened in the last few months- you let your thoughts be driven into something you should stay away from in the very first place. Coming to your senses and accepting the truth about yourself hurt more than Ben’s words. You could never be at his level, but you let your fantasies take over your logic.

As you struggled not to melt into his touch, you tried harder to get away from him, hoping it would convince him. You mumbled, “You’re hurting me.”

His grasp was indeed firm, but it did not hurt at all. You just wanted to save yourself from the intensity of his seductive presence since you did not know if you could resist this irresistible pull for one more minute.

He pulled away his hands from you but remained still.

“How can you fucking normals endure being that weak, huh? You know, I could kill you without even using half my strength, right? It must take great energy and luck to survive,” he said mockingly.

You wanted to say he was nothing without Compound V in his veins, that he wasn’t naturally the strongest but a made-up product. However, it wouldn’t be smart at all to say such a thing. Supes were not known for having reasonable conversations and handling criticism. Maybe Supes were physically the strongest breed, whose emotional and narcissistic fragility was suppressed under their thick skin. And Ben’s short temper wasn’t something you’d want to face.

You both jumped when a noise coming from the second floor filled the house. Ben’s eyes were down. He was probably nervous considering he could potentially be put to sleep by the supe. Unlike Ben, you took a step right up the stairs, tightening your grip on the pistol and holding your breath.

“Be fucking slow,” he warned you, but it was more like he meant to threaten you.

You turned to him and whispered, “Hey, who’s being a pussy right now?”

“Don’t fucking provoke me.”

“Hey,” you said, giving him a playful wink. “I’ll always protect you.” Just before he said something, you’d seen supe’s dark figure behind Ben. Your eyes were fixed on each other. His body tensed with anger as his patience grew thin. He was about to lose his temper, knowing he should kill her without meeting the eye of the fucking bitch. He simply did not know how to do it. Before he turned around, you shot at the darkness randomly, trying to stir panic in the supe. The darkness of the room was in your favor until you met the heinous eyes of the supe just before Ben caught her and slammed her on the floor with a furious growl.

Next Chapter

#soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #the boys series #jensen ackles #the boys #the boys tv #jensen ackles soldier boy #the boys season 3 #soldier boy the boys #the boys amazon #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #jensen ackles the boys #the boys soldier boy

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ambi-kiko · 7 months

Text

tma music tma music tma music

please reblog with your own! i need it (:

also im more than willing to elaborate on any of em, just ask! (i have much to yell about)

for bitchard, we have:

kiss me, son of god (they might be giants)

i'm gonna win (rob cantor)

blood & money (the orion experience, orion, linda XO)

ruler of everything (tally hall)

BlackBoxWarrior - OKULTRA (will wood)

community gardens (the scary jokes, louie zong)

the main character (will wood)

your body, my temple (will wood)

laplace's angel (hurt people? hurt people!) (will wood)

saint bernard (lincoln)

welcome to the internet (bo burnham)

all eyes on me (or3o)

my ordinary life (the living tombstone)

cabinet man (lemon demon)

peter x elias (for my frenchies out there <33)

marine marchande (les cowboys fringants)

ok dont judge me too much i had to have smth for them ((: plus its not that unrelated

next! martin

a better son/daughter (rilo kiley)

12 feet deep (the front bottoms)

things to do (alex g)

be nice to me (the front bottoms)

step on me (the cardigans)

heart for brains (roar)

mama (my chemical romance)

summer child (conan gray)

hello my old heart (the oh hellos)

i cant handle change (roar)

against the kitchen floor (will wood)

least favorite only child (leanna firestone)

sharpener (cavetown)

empty bed (cavetown)

life's a beach (bears in trees)

jmart ((:

no children (the mountain goats)

the moon will sing (the crane wives)

euthanasia (will wood)

as the world caves in (matt maltese)

the truth (the front bottoms)

balade à toronto (jean leloup)

doctor (jack stauber)

apocalypse (cigarettes after sex)

talk to you (ricky Montgomery)

cabo (ricky montgomery)

meteor shower (cavetown)

juliet (cavetown)

feel better (penelope scott)

would you be so kind (dodie)

two birds (regina spektor)

line without a hook (ricky Montgomery)

and jon, ofc <3 i rly dont have enough for him ):

body terror song (AJJ)

downhill (Lincoln)

montreal (penelope scott)

ramblings of a lunatic (bears in trees)

its called: freefall (rainbow kitten surprise)

chin music for the unsuspecting hero (foster the people)

love, me normally (will wood)

dinner is not over (jack stauber's micropop)

also melanie! dont have that many but she deserves the mention (:

saturn suv (fredo disco)

brave as a noun (AJJ)

tongues & teeth (the crane wives)

wreaking ball (mother mother)

we fell in love in october (girl in red)

and just random songs with tma vibes (other characters, ships, dread powers, etc)

underground (cody fry)

hand me my shovel, i'm going in! (will wood)

terry's taxidermy (teddy hyde)

cotard's solution (will wood and the tapeworms)

amnesia was her name (lemon demon)

memento mori: the most important thing in life is death (will wood)

skeleton appreciation day in vestal, n.y. (will wood)

icicles (the scary jokes)

puppet boy (devo)

oh ana (mother mother)

i dont smoke (mitski)

choke (I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME)

thermodynamic lawyer esq, G.F.D (will wood and the tapeworms)

sorry haha i fell asleep (egg)

despair (leo)

stuff is way (they might be giants)

baby teeth (baby bugs)

king park (la dispute)

i/me/myself (will wood)

dr. sunshine is dead (will wood and the tapeworms)

amygdala's rag doll (ghost and pals)

little pistol (mother mother)

burning pile (mother mother)

this is home (cavetown)

body (mother mother)

turn the lights off (tally hall)

like real people do (hozier)

im going insane

#long post #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #magnuspod #jon sims #jmart #martin blackwood #martin kartin blackwood #jonmartin #jonny sims #melanie king #elias bouchard #lonely eyes

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punkascas · 4 months

Text

okay, so i don't want to, like, Start Something or whatever so we're doing a barely-tagged, separate post. i also realise this is mostly pointless because others have already said what i'm going to say, and did it better, with far more grace, and sound less like an asshole than i do.

but jesus louise helen christ, the weird fucked up ideas people have around abuse and personal responsibility and the effect of trauma. like as an abuse and csa survivor, it genuinely alarms me to read posts that use arguments i remember my dad making. like, i'm assuming most of this rhetoric comes from gen z — maybe that's inaccurate; maybe that's unfair. but right now i'm very much Having A Moment Here that the kids aren't alright.

no 22-year-old should be repeating the same awful, manipulative, logically and morally bankrupt justifications for violence and torture my dad says. like literally what's in the first two episodes of ofmd s2 is torture.

i love ed; he's an amazing character. taika is hella wowza top marks acting him. but like.

like.

torture, my dude. physical and psychological. trauma. harassment. that we see the lasting effects of through s2.

just. i. what??

so here we go, okay. have too many, zealously highlighted screenshots so i can dig into details.

cut to save your dashes. content warning for discussions of abuse and trauma (if that wasn't obvious), as well as spoilers for ofmd s2.

re: ed knew what he was doing was wrong and felt guilty about it at the time:

we have no on-screen, textual examples of this. not in the dialogue; not in the acting; not in the blocking; not in the cinematography or music. nothing.

knowing the crew are overworked and kind of traumatised by all the violence, ed bribes them with cake. because, as we know, cake like tea fixes everything. only ed wasn't even with them to share in the eating of the cake. he made izzy responsible for that. he doesn't give the crew a break; he doesn't choose less ethically-fraught prizes to hunt. there is not one scene of ed talking directly to the crew — until he points a gun at each of them.

we see ed crying (and drinking, and rhino horn-ing [way to help further extinction, man]) but it's always paired with shots or flashbacks that reference stede. ed is still all up in his feelings about stede, and ed confirms this when he tells frenchie the myth about albatrosses never needing to return to land. ed cannot go back, does not want to go back, because he was rejected. (like, stede is literally landed gentry, come on!) all he wants to do instead is stay at sea committing to this unhinged version of unstable, sadistic piracy.

but okay, okay. say we ignore all of that. let's say ed does feel sorry and guilty and ashamed of his actions. he knows what he's doing is wrong and unfair and cruel. that it's harming others. that it's particularly harming the dude that ed has, for better or worse, basically spent his life with (izzy; i mean izzy). ed… still continues to do the things! how far off are we at this point from the definition of malicious? you know action x hurts person b and then you do it anyway. is that honestly a better, happier, more ethically defensible reading of the character?

re: the crew didn't mutiny because they love ed despite his violent, sadistic actions.

mutinies were a thing, yes. but both historically and in the world rules established by the show, mutiny is disincentivised through threats, distraction via extra work, and corporeal punishment. we see both ed and izzy use all three of these to try to prevent the crew from disobeying orders. they didn't wait until the storm and izzy shooting ed to mutiny because they understood or sympathised with ed; they took the chance to kill him then because that was the first real opportunity they'd had. the reward finally out-weighed the risk given that ed was going to kill them all that night anyway.

again, we have no scenes, no dialogue, no visual or audio cues to tell us that the crew understands or loves ed — excluding izzy, obviously. fang could also be on that list, if you take into account his personality and his behaviour both in s1 and later in s2 in the fishing boat scene. but in the first two episodes, we only see the crew show trauma responses around ed. they talk about him but almost never to him. and when they do have a direct conversation with ed, it is either confrontation or head down, submissive, "of course, blackbeard; anything you say" placating. i'm so baffled where the show points to any sign of love from the crew towards ed before his "death".

re: ed can't be held responsible because he was suicidal.

uhm. no. hard no. a harder no than stede's brazilian cherry wood mast. fucked up people do fucked up things but part of being an adult is owning your fucked-upped-ness and not fucking up others while you work on unfucking yourself. children, children are not fully responsible for the impact of their actions on others when they're deep in their feelings, especially if they're feeling their feelings as a trauma response. this is because literally their brain cannot do that kind of control. it doesn't have that software pack installed yet. ed does have all the adult updates installed, even if he isn't running them at that moment. he has no right to take out his feelings on other people: to maim them, to psychologically torture them, to abuse them, to work them to exhaustion. to kill them. he does not get a free pass to do suicide by abused employees. (like suicide by cop but more indirect and passive and harmful.) talk about passive aggressive.

secondly, ed is not just passively suicidal and happy to find new risks that might end his life. he is very purposefully taking izzy with him (see: literally removing the bits of izzy that would help let him walk away from ed; the fact that ed becomes actively suicidal only once he thinks izzy is dead; the whole keeping izzy's corpse in front of his and stede's beach shack i mean inn — the codependence, she runs deep). ed is also putting the crew through the same risks, the same isolation, the same danger. both stede and izzy agreed that ed had gone full scorched earth policy. you don't get forgiven for the murder part of a murder-suicide pact just because of the suicide part. not to mention that no one (once again, you could potentially argue izzy as an exception) was good on a murder-suicide pact with blackbeard.

and then to say the crew felt guilty? i assume i'm misreading that. the crew. felt guilty. for ed's actions. that is, if not victim blaming and if not darvo, a very close inbred cousin of them. like hapsburg jaw inbred close.

re: ed healing and his view of himself as a monster.

to heal means, in part, to accept responsibility for the harm you've caused, whether it was intentional or not. it means making amends. it means building or rebuilding relationships where possible. it means putting the other person or persons' feelings and boundaries and need for safety above your desire for absolution or forgiveness. it means working through your own guilt and shame and anger (or whatever drove you to act the way you did) in a separate space, not with the people you hurt, but someone who can be a step removed, more impersonal and objective to help you reflect and face hard truths as needed. i say this as both someone involved in activism and community reparations and as an abuse survivor who has done nearly 30 years of therapy learning this in order to not hurt people. it's not ed's fault he's fucked up just like it isn't my fault i am. but it is on me, like it is on anyone, to make sure i limited as much as possible the harm i can cause to others because i learned some awful but very effective tricks at a young age to survive.

ed does not really do any of the above. he doesn't say "sorry". he speaks in generalised language. he complains about the cat bell (which he seems to wear only for one day, given the implied timeline with lucius and pete's engagement). i have a model ship on a stand that says "this is a safe space ship" as a joke because i work for the government and have written press releases that sound just like ed's "apology". where you take no responsibility and encourage "the culture" to move on.

so, really, my question becomes: ed sees himself as a monster. in s1, we had enough balance between ed's current actions and his referenced past actions to see this belief as likely untrue. in s2 though — i mean, is it? is that an unfair or inaccurate belief? i can understand how carrying that belief can get in the way of ed's growth and eventual healing but like. from an outside perspective of ed-the-fictional-character. he's not a "good" person. he's capable of and has done and continued to do horrible, cruel things. ethically, can you argue with that statement about him?

re: ed trying to destroy relationships because of his self-worth issues and instead the consequences of his actions proving that he's loved.

this is the point that made me go: right, no, i need to respond. i need to say my piece about this. izzy and the crew suffering ed's violent tyranny and then sticking around on the revenge anyway afterwards is not a sign of love. it is not showing love to bear pain for someone. it not showing love to let someone mistreat you, threaten you, hurt you, maim you. their actions are selfish and done to give them feelings of power and control over you. lying back and thinking of england to get through it is not love. it is absolutely a survival technique. but it is not love when you do it at the expense of yourself or others.

i also disagree that ed was trying to push people away or break his relationships with others. we know from s1 that ed is fairly blasé about whether crew members die. again, we don't see any friendly or intimate exchanges between ed and any of the crew to imply any kind of relationship there beyond "tools who accomplish ed's goals". the one exception, as always, is izzy. and as previously stated, ed seems bound and determined, in a very conscious way, to bring izzy into death with him. ed does everything in his power to make izzy want to kill ed, or at least agree that it's best if ed dies, and to want to kill himself so ed doesn't have to die alone. that isn't ed breaking that relationship; it's making it permanent in a really fucked up shakespearian way. the only relationship we see ed waffle between wanting to keep and wanting to push away is stede. after his corporate "apology" and the fishing trip with fang, all of ed's dialogue is with stede and a little bit with zheng until izzy's death scene. the crew loving ed just isn't a thing, at least not one we're shown. not from either side. ed's relationships are with stede and kind of, sort of with izzy (because he does manage to, if not fully break, do some major damage to that).

love did not save ed. ed wanting to live, because stede came back, because he didn't want to jump off hornigold's cliff in the first place, saved ed. izzy saved everyone else.

so yeah: that's it; that's the post. the rhetoric that abuse is love or that abuse can be "cured" with love or that trauma isn't lasting and serious and has impacts on people's daily lives is just. wild. wild.

and terrifying.

my dad was born in the 40s. why is anyone born in the 80s or later still defending this mindset? it honestly, truly freaks me out.

guess it's good i have a fucking therapy appointment on monday.

#ofmd critical #ptsd problems

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