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𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐚 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 || 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Previous Joel Fics: Mule [5.1K Words]

Summary: Marlene thinks Joel can save the fireflies. You’re not so sure.

Word Count: 10.2k!!!!

CW: LONG FIC. You have been warned! Slow burn Enemies to Fuck Buddies. Joel is 40 here, 10 years before the events of the game! Military and political themes because, say it with me now, “Jas loves plot”. Moody Joel, before Tess. Aggression. Slight gore. Power play. Hair pulling, f masturbation. Angst. Based off Game!Joel

Tease: “Look at you,” Joel growls. “Totally shameless.”

‘When you’re lost in the darkness, look for the light.’

The white graffiti paint drips down the chipped terracotta walls of the hallway you were designated to patrol. Your feet ache in the brand-new leather boots gifted to you in the last donation drop-off, and you want nothing more than to crawl back to bed and ignore the arrival of this smuggler that had Marlene promising that she could take control of Boston in a fortnight.

“What a bunch of bullshit,” you scoff bitterly, picking at your cuticles. The skin is red raw under the fluorescent lighting, crimson blood pooling around your nails. It's a nervous habit you picked up since joining the Fireflies, marginally healthier than staying up all night but still torturing your body somehow.

There was no light to this way of life, no promise that the darkness would ever subside. It was a brutal cycle of killing a handful of soldiers only for them to execute swathes of Fireflies. You saw it in your dreams, your colleague's brains splattered across the streets in the exclusion zone, a carmine reminder that the military would not tolerate any form of mutiny within their controlled zones. Too many had devoted themselves to suicide missions, but still, you had nothing to show for it. How much longer could Marlene continue to hurl young lives at a promise she couldn't fulfil? The likelihood of finding an immune individual grew smaller and smaller each time squadrons of Fireflies failed to return home, and even the most faithful of individuals were beginning to lose hope that this martyr would ever arrive. That was despite your dogged leader insisting that there must be someone out there that could help provide the vaccine that would eradicate the Cordyceps virus.

You hiss sharply as you subconsciously pull a hang nail down your first knuckle, resulting in a stinging sensation that rips you from your pessimistic thoughts. It's light outside now, and you wonder how long you will have to wait to meet this smuggler that Marlene speaks of so highly. She had claimed that she knew the man's brother, stating that Tommy had fought valiantly for the cause until he found himself unable to justify putting his life on the line for someone that they weren't sure even existed.

As Firefly numbers dwindled, so too did the morale that held the frayed edges of the organisation together. Everyone had sacrificed something and lost someone dear for seemingly no reward. Marlene's fantastical idea that one lone smuggler could change the course of the firefly's suffering left you feeling that options were running out.

As you begin to resign bitterly to your seemingly inevitable end, a pair of footsteps sound down the corridor in an indication of your saviour’s arrival, broken bottles crunching beneath his boots. When you look up from your throbbing finger, now stripped to ribbons, you are caught off guard by the view.

Marlene's expression is grave; eyebrows pulled together in a stark and silent warning. Soldiers aren't coming home today. You had seen that gaunt visage before. Hell, you'd seen it almost every week recently. However, the most shocking sight was the person who accompanied her.

The man is old, much older than you had been expecting. His mousy brown hair, trimmed short, is greying to match the thick, peppery beard that coats his jaw. The edges of his eyes are creased, no doubt carved with the years he spent fighting to survive. His thin lips turn downwards, and his eyes are cold and hardy, indicating his desire to get the job done and escape Marlene’s control.

"Soldier," Marlene addresses you with an air of authority that can only indicate she is attempting to impress her guest, "You will be coming with me."

"Yes, ma'am," you stand at attention and cast your eyes over the guest of honour, who is yet to introduce himself. He doesn't look as though he intends to. He watches you with an air of caution as though he doesn't trust you. It doesn’t surprise you. Everyone in this new world order is a threat. Perhaps this wariness is how he survived so long.

Falling in line, you follow behind your superior. There is an uneasy silence settling amongst you. The Commander and The Smuggler don't seem comfortable in each other's presence.

"So, say you take back Boston. What then?" The man's gruff Texan accent cuts through the silence like a dull blade. It's agonising, an unwanted intrusion to the apparent mutual decision to remain quiet.

"I think you know," Marlene speaks with frustration, "Restore democratically elected government control.”

"Didn’t you say that at the beginning? It ain’t as though you are any closer than 10 years ago." The smuggler points out, his assessment lacking any form of amusement. He doesn't seem to revel in the Fireflies' losses, yet he has the confidence to call Marlene out on her ridiculous ambition.

Marlene shoots the stranger a look of indignation, clearly not appreciating his accurate assessment of the Fireflies’ track record. She doesn't attempt to argue, instead leading him into a room and ushering you inside.

“Joel,” she begins, naming the enigma that had walked in and undermined the entire principal of the organisation he had joined momentarily. Marlene closes the door and locks it for good measure before turning to face her ‘last hope’. “I need you to tell me the plan. I can’t just let you blindly lead the last of my men into a war zone-“

“Didn’t expect you to,” he answers lazily, crossing his arms over his chest. The sleeves of his flannel stretch across his broad biceps, buttons straining slightly against his frame. You assume that his physique is thanks to lugging around the oversized backpack that rests over his shoulders, the worn nylon fabric practically bursting at the seams.

Marlene offers Joel a look, the kind that indicates she doesn't feel like joking around. He inhales slowly through his nose, then exhales as if preparing to begin a presentation at a job interview. In a way, that is exactly what this meeting was.

"Y’all can only gather the number of weapons you need from one place. You won't find this shit just lyin’ around. We'll have to take it from the military themselves."

You nearly choke on the oxygen in your lungs, rocked back by Joel’s confidence in his ability to steal directly from under the noses of the US Military. You knew that Marlene had faith in him, but this was lunacy.

"And just how do you suppose we do that?" Even Marlene, ever the optimist, looks at Joel as if he is crazy. There was no way to infiltrate the military bases that the Federal Disaster Response Agency sanctioned. They had the place secure, triple-locked to keep out humans and infected alike.

"We'll catch them on one of their supply runs," Joe answers her question simply, as though he thought of this already, “If we ambush during the night in the Outskirts, they’ll lack the defences to hold us off. At most, there'll be four of ‘em in the delivery vehicle.”

It's an insane plan. The soldier’s on the border of the quarantine zones are armed to the teeth to defend against the infected. The team would need to be stealthy, catching them off guard and dispatching them before they had a chance to call for backup.

Perhaps it's the kamikaze-like nature of Joel's plan, or maybe the lack of detail he’s sharing, but understandably Marlene seems unsure. "Do you think it'll be worth it, all that risk?"

"What, armin’ yourself and strippin’ them of their next lot of ammunition? Seems beneficial to me."

You can't help but wonder what Marlene is trading for Joel to run headfirst into a death trap like this. Likewise, is it wise for her to place all her bets on one man who seems intent on being captured and sentenced to execution?

The heavy sigh that rattles through Marlene's lungs indicates to you that she has nowhere else to turn. In exchange for Joel's basic scheme, she extends a nod of approval.

"You will be escorting Joel." It takes a second for you to realise that Marlene is talking to you, still caught up in shock. When you do, Joel looks less than pleased at the concept of having a babysitter. He drags his eyes over to you, expression flat. You can't say that you're precisely thrilled, either.

"Yes, ma'am," you offer confidently despite wanting to beg for mercy. She doesn't offer you the chance.

"Joel, gather all the men and firepower you’ll need." With that final comment, Marlene turns toward the exit, leaving the two of you alone in the unfurnished room. She seems animated and enthusiastic about getting this plot up and running.

Joel makes no move to leave, instead leaning against the wall and peering at the Firefly pendant that rests on your collarbone. You know what he's thinking, but he himself fails to speak the ‘why’ out loud. There’s an awkward edge to him, indicating a man who had grown too accustomed to surviving as a lone wolf.

"I heard your brother was a Firefly," you beat Joel to it, asking the question before he has the opportunity to interrogate you. This area of the conversation appears to irritate Joel, his eyes turning to the ceiling.

"Yeah, he wasn't happy with the way I did things. Said it was too violent. Instead, he joined you and continued his brutal crusade here despite criticisin’ mine." Joel scoffs, picking at the thread-worn sleeves of the flannel he wore. His words are bitter, leading you to believe that the brothers don't talk anymore.

"It's less of a crusade than an attempt to set things right," you justify.

"You're killin’ people," Joel accuses bluntly. It's as though he's tarring you with the same pitch-black brush as those who killed for their own benefit. It sparks a rage in you, the words spilling from your lips before you can stop them.

"You kill people to survive this world. I’m trying my best to revert it to the old one. If I have to kill soldiers to do it, who, by the way, act worse than the infected most of the time, then so be it.”

Joel appears to let your argument settle before he nods, pushing himself from the wall and making his way to the door. His boots scuff the flooring, the grating sound punctuating the silence as you await his response, which he delivers with an air of finality.

"Yeah, you just keep tellin’ yourself that bullshit."

—————————————————

Joel has a wealth of knowledge that can only result from his smuggling adventures and the network of insiders he worked with. He is somehow aware of the military's next supply drop-off date, which just so happens to coincide nicely with his arrival. It gave the team two days to plan their attack. It was almost too good to be true.

Your suspicions against the smuggler grow with your inability to discern his reason for aiding Marlene. There was no question that he was no longer involved with his brother Tommy, the two seemingly ending their relationship on less than amicable terms, and there also appeared to be no love lost between your sergeant and Joel.

Yet despite his apparent limited reward, Joel was focusing all of his efforts on ensuring that this mission was successful. His rucksack, which he had held close to him since entering the Fireflies’ hideout, was filled to the brim with rudimentary grenades and modified firearms. He admitted his knowledge of creating these weapons had come from manuals scavenged throughout his time as a smuggler. Reluctantly, Joel shares the blueprints, and the mission squad are armed with Molotov cocktails and nail bombs by the end of the evening.

You wish you could say that Joel's helpfulness had warmed you to his presence; however, you find yourself increasingly irritated by his constant attendance. You see him arrogant and consistently standoffish despite your fellow member's attempts to appease him with light conversation.

Following the half-a-day-long effort to sufficiently arm the team, Marlene had pulled all on-site members of the Fireflies into a meeting room. She stands at a table, an aged, worn map of the Boston quarantine zone spread across the surface. From where you're standing, you can see circles marked in red ink along the border.

Something akin to optimism clings to the air of the dusty meeting room. You feel it when the group goes silent as Marlene raises her hand for attention. Joel stands by her side, eyes assessing the map as he awaits the beginning of the briefing.

"Everyone listen in," Marlene orders, authority drenching her tone as she commands her army, "I want everyone confident in their role on this mission. We only have one chance to get this right."

You swallow thickly, readying yourself to hear how Marlene had taken Joel's absurd mission plan and cultivated it into a scheme for which her troops would feel comfortable risking their lives.

"We have information that the military is due a supply drop from FEDRA in two days. We are almost certain that this restock will contain firearms and ammo that could help us take down the military presence in Boston." A series of murmurs sound, those in the room comforted by the prospect that they may no longer need to ration their supplies.

"It is crucial that we obtain these weapons to take control of the Boston quarantine zone. With civilian support, we could increase our numbers and once again focus our efforts on obtaining a vaccine for the Cordyceps virus."

It was an unspoken truth that the Fireflies' efforts to acquire a vaccine had ultimately fallen by the wayside, the lack of soldiers, weapons and equipment making it increasingly difficult to travel across the country to the medical facility at Salt Lake City where the trials were taking place. The Fireflies focused most of their resources towards protecting the medical officials integral to finding a cure. Taking control of the militarised zone would provide more than enough manpower, vehicles, and firearms to travel safely and restart the process of searching for an immune individual who could help turn the tide of the war against the virus.

"I can confirm that most supply drops are handed over on the east side of the quarantine zone. Our best option is catching the vehicle containing the cache in the Outskirts before it reaches the wall.”

The Outskirts are notoriously dangerous, their desolate plains unlit and infested with runners that try their luck getting past the military blockade. If you somehow managed to survive the creatures, you then had to contend with the snipers on the wall. Many Fireflies had lost their lives crossing these lands to supply the medical facility in Salt Lake City at the peak of testing.

"I will be handing the mission over to Joel to ensure we have the best chance of obtaining these critical supplies,” Marlene finishes, stepping back and letting Joel take control of the meeting.

Wasting no time, Joel points towards the circled area on the east side of the quarantine wall. "They plan to hand over the cache at the gate on the East wall. If we can intercept ‘em before they reach the lit areas surroundin’ the zone, we should be able to take out the soldiers and grab the weapons before they can call for backup."

You're unsure where your frustrations come from. Perhaps it's the simplicity with which Joel delivers his plans, but you find yourself questioning whether or not it was possible to succeed without losing enough men to bring the Fireflies to their knees.

"I assume you expect us to travel through the underground tunnels beneath the apartment buildings. Who's to say we won't run into Clickers and Runners that drain our resources or leave us late and unable to complete the mission?" You question Joel with sincerity, but he looks at you as though you’ve queried his authority.

Marlene opens her mouth to interject and scold you for insubordination, but Joel raises his hand.

"I am gonna do a run of the smugglin’ tunnels myself and sweep for any infected so that the path is clear for tomorrow evenin’," Joel answered smoothly, despite the obvious irritation laced between his words, "Shipment is due at 9 p.m. tomorrow. We're gonna move out at 5 to make sure that we have enough time to get to the Outskirts and set up for engagement."

Still, you find yourself concerned with Joel’s leadership. None of you knew him. He hadn’t developed trust between the team and himself; instead, he kept you all at arm's length and maintained distance.

“How do we know you won’t hand us all in and take the weapons yourself? You’re a smuggler; you’d earn a lot from them,” you accuse, not unlike the tone Joel had taken with you hours before.

“Soldier-!” Marlene speaks up, running out of patience with your disregard for her ‘smuggling saviour’. Once again, Joel keeps his hand aloft to quieten her and fight his own corner.

“This is a job,” he states with a gravelly tone that betrays his relaxed posture, “I ain’t for your little militia group, and I’m not against it. I will lead this mission, hand the weapons over, take my ration cards and my cut of the firearms and leave. You wanna distrust me and end up dead? Be my guest.”

You can’t help but scoff, taken aback by his inability to choose his side of the moral compass. To fight for good with the Fireflies or battle to maintain the new world order with FEDRA. Instead, he doesn’t even sit on the fence. He’s situated in the shadows, benefitting from either side only for himself.

Joel’s expression serves as a warning to interrupt him again, pointing to the map as he begins to detail the step-by-step of his mission.

“Plan’ll go like this….”

—————————————————

You can’t exactly claim to be surprised that you had been left out of the mission squad and ordered to remain at the hideout after questioning Joel’s leadership. ‘One loose link’ and all that. However, you find yourself wracked with nerves as you return to your room for the night. What if they needed you? What if everything went south, and you were the one pair of hands required to maintain a grip on the delicate situation?

That wasn't to say that you didn't have faith in your fellow soldiers to carry out the mission successfully. Joel had picked the brightest and most skilled of Marlene's troops to carry out this night raid, and you knew they had enough experience to achieve this critical assignment. But what if…?

Marlene had delivered her scathing reprimand following the meeting when she had dragged you down a corridor and insisted you get your act together. You hadn’t been able to look her in the eye, believing her reckless for putting the lives of her troops, your friends, in the hands of a man who couldn’t care less what happened to them as long as he got his payout.

Were you being naive? Was it foolish to believe that every surviving person not aligned with FEDRA should stand opposed to the regime and attempt to restore some level of order? Or had humanity evolved beyond the return to everyday life, much preferring to fight for themselves, to remain in the dog-eat-dog system this virus had granted them?

You find yourself fearing the answer.

As you enter the doorway to the barracks, you hear the rapid pacing of footsteps down the hallway approaching you. The sound drags you from your thoughts, but not before a hand firmly grips your collar and pushes your back to the wall so hard that you hit your head off the jagged brickwork.

Pushing his forearm across your chest, Joel stares back at you with rage burning in his pupils. The metal of a watch strapped around his wrist digs into your collarbone painfully, but you grit your teeth in response, standing firm against Joel's display of intimidation.

His chest is heaving with heavy breaths, seemingly infuriated by your display in the meeting room. Despite his fury, his voice is relatively even. "You gotta problem with me?"

"Ha," you scoff, "That's funny. What was it you said? ‘Be my guest’?”

Joel answers first by applying pressure to your chest, his forearm balancing his weight and crushing your bones beneath it in a painful warning. You grab at the skin exposed by his rolled-up sleeves and dig your nails in, though it does little to de-escalate the tension.

"Look,” he sneers, brows creased together, “You don’t gotta like me. Ain’t even gotta respect me. But what you’re not gonna do is put doubt into your fellow soldier's heads. That shit’ll get them killed. You want that?”

"What's it matter to you? You don't care how many die as long as you get your payout," you dig in, not allowing Joel to think he could muscle you into submission.

He inhales shakily in anger, glaring at you as you attempt to pry his arms off. "The role Marlene gave me ain't to ensure the survival of your friends. My only goal is to guarantee y’all get your hands on those weapons, no matter the cost. So I suggest you assure their best chance of survival by keeping your mouth shut and your opinions of me to yourself."

"Aye, Aye, Captain,” you sneer.

"Atta girl."

The sarcasm dripping from those three syllables sets you off again. You grit your teeth while pushing hard on the limb that has you firmly pinned down, but your limited strength has little effect until Joel pulls away completely. Almost instantly, a bruising ache settles across your skin, and you suppose it's Joel's version of a parting gift.

There is a pause between the two of you as you take in Joel's command. He appears to be watching your expression for any sign of acknowledgement towards his order. You both breathe heavily, on the comedown from your respective anger aimed at each other. It's intense, the crackling tension in the air shared by both of you.

You're unsure how or why the mood shifts so violently in the room, but you can feel your heart racing as you watch Joel settle his hands on his hips. His tongue darts out to lick his lower lip as he exhales what must be the last of his anger. In this quiet moment, you note how handsome he is despite his weathered appearance. His usually aggressive, guarded expression is momentarily brought down and exposes the warm, earthy brown tone of his irises.

"Just…" Joel hesitates, searching for the correct words as he looks you in the eye. He's quiet for a long, drawn-out second as if processing you. "You ain't gonna like the guilty conscience of believin’ somethin’ you said is the reason your friends died. Trust me."

The gentle tone Joel offers indicates he has experience in what he's warning you against. When he offers this advice so calmly, who are you to deny this slither of kindness? So you just nod in acknowledgement, refusing to extend him any more appreciation.

Joel steps away whilst clearing his throat, appearing satisfied with your non-answer. He, too, provides little recognition, instead turning around and exiting your room in the direction he came.

You watch as he paces down the corridor, his broad back disappearing around the corner and leaving you alone to dissect what the fuck just happened.

—————————————————

On the morning of the mission, you see very little of Joel. It's all hands on deck, the mission team working hard to ensure they had the supplies needed for the hijacking. Every so often, you would catch glimpses of Joel's red tartan flannel or hear the rough intonation of his Texan accent. It was silly, but you began to think he was purposely avoiding you.

Yes, he had acted carelessly last night by cornering you the way that he did, though you're not sure that is entirely out of character for him. Instead, you believe that whatever happened that caused your heart to race when he pulled away was a shared experience.

Rather than concerning yourself with why he was skirting around you, intentional or not, you focus on enacting your promise from last night. You work hard to ready the troops for the deadline, a subtle nod that you approve of Joel's leadership to urge their confidence in him.

It is painful, but you take your time with each of them. There is almost a certainty that some may not return home, and so you commit them to your memory. It's something you did every time someone left to enter the field, but it felt especially pertinent considering how close the Fireflies were to shifting their luck. Those who died tonight wouldn't get to appreciate the spoils of their sacrifice.

By mid-afternoon, Marlene considered her soldiers ready for battle and ordered them at ease to relax and rest up before heading out. Some opted to share their last meal; others played card games while recounting the time they had spent together with fondness despite the difficulties shared.

Quietly, you had slipped away from the main halls and left them to their final goodbyes. You weren't going out there, so it felt disrespectful to sit amongst those waiting for the call to arms. Alternatively, you made your way to one of the medical bays to ensure that someone set up enough equipment for those who may come back wounded.

By now, you had set out multiple antibiotic syringes, readied bandages and sutures and prepped gurneys so that everything was ready should there be an emergency. You felt better this way, as though you had aided in the effort.

So caught up in the process, you failed to notice Joel leaning his shoulder against the doorway until he cleared his throat to alert you to his presence. When you look up, the sound having startled you, you find him watching you with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Do you… Uh-do you need something?" You offer awkwardly, unsure of what else to say. Joel shakes his head, eyes flitting down to where you had laid out the medical equipment.

"No. Everythin’ is ready, and the tunnels are clear of infected. Just comin’ to tell you I'm headed out." He walks across the room towards the desk you are sitting at, stopping at the foot of the wooden table and laying his palms flat along the surface. You can see the veins raised through his skin.

You look at him through your lashes, swallowing back the nervous energy you feel creeping to the surface as he leans over the table.

"Why should I care?" You ask. You intend for it to appear nonchalant, but it just sounds breathy even to your ears. Joel raises an eyebrow in question.

"Woah Woah, easy. Still bratty then, I see," Joel points out, his tone flat. You cringe inwardly, knowing that that must have been his attempt to extend an olive branch. "Thought we could put this little disagreement behind us before heading out."

"There isn't one."

"Could’a fooled me," Joel chuckles, but it lacks humour. His gaze slips over your body and appears to take note of all the tiny details. You hope it's all in your mind, but you can feel your face heat up and your heart thrum in your chest again.

"You know, you really remind me of Marlene."

Of all the things you expected Joel to say, that certainly wasn't one of them. You look back at him slack-jawed as you feel the warmth of what you assume was a compliment wash over you.

"Huh?”

"She doesn't put up with none of my bullshit neither. Always tellin’ me to take a hike when I'm outta line and put me back in my place," there's a hint of a smile and Joel's face as he recounts their strange dynamic. A fondness touches his eyes, a fraction of warmth you hadn't yet seen in the hardened smuggler. "Thinkin’ that's maybe how she managed to keep Tommy in check for as long as she did."

You hesitate in your response, unsure how to approach this conversation due to the awkwardness from this morning. Turns out you don't have to because Joel continues.

"Only difference between y’all is that you have the balls to question things you feel ain't right. That's a high-value quality in a leader."

You feel as though you've been bowled over. Yet another compliment from the man who had attempted to strangle the life out of you nearly 12 hours ago. They were starting to make you think that maybe he'd succeeded and that you had entered a strange alternate dimension.

Laughing awkwardly, you shift the syringes around the tabletop in an attempt to keep your nervous hands busy. "Don't let Marlene hear that, shall consider it mutiny."

That earns you another elusive chuckle, the Texan shaking his head in amusement.

"Yeah, well, it ain't mutiny if I ain't part of her little militia army. Don't think I got much to worry about." This dynamic isn't friendship, you figure, though it's undoubtedly more amicable than tussling in your bedroom. It may be the closest Joel ever got to anything akin to amity.

It's not hard to assume that almost 20 years of solitary survival might make it challenging to establish emotional ties. Plus, you know nothing of Joel's ordeals getting to this point. Still didn't excuse his arrogance, though.

Again, silence creeps between you and you feel your stomach somersault while Joel maintains his close proximity. You dread to think what you look like, horrified that your expression could give away your internal panic. Even if it did, it wasn't Joel causing it. It wasn't.

"I'm off," Joel grumbles, standing up and pulling away from the desk and allowing you to breathe a silent sigh of relief. You watch him stroll leisurely towards the door, his hands on his hips. "I'll see you in the mornin’."

Most people in the Fireflies were surprisingly superstitious. It wasn't often you heard someone announce with such certainty that they would return from a mission. Regardless of its abnormality, it manages to ease your nerves – not that you were concerned about what happened to Joel.

"Good luck."

The flippant comment causes Joel to stop in his tracks, pausing in the doorway. He peers over his shoulder at you as if to make certain that you said it. He appears surprised.

"Yeah. Thanks."

—————————————————

Pacing.

You're pacing uncontrollably, circling the room in a failed attempt to ease the nervous energy pent up in your system. No matter how hard you attempt to block out the repetitive dialogue in your mind, it rushes back to the surface of your brain. What if, what if, what if –

Joel and his squad had moved out the minute the clock struck five, just as he had promised. Although Marlene had provided Joel with a walkie-talkie, the mission's reliance on stealth meant that no one intended to use it. You were completely cut off, uncertain of Mission status or if the squad was even alive.

Hoping it would make your wait more bearable, you turned your ticking clock to face the wall and put your watch inside your bedside drawer. It had helped initially, but now the sun had set, and you were expecting their imminent arrival. Every second your colleagues don't step back into the compound, your faith dwindles.

Though she maintained a stony expression, you knew Marlene was equally anxious. The most wanted woman in America, though able to defend herself, still depended heavily on her armed personnel. Reliant on this mission being a success, she had offered them up to Joel in the hope that their experience would assure victory. You can't help but wonder if she feels exposed without them.

What if they didn't come back? Could she survive without them?

It’s bordering on the edge of midnight when Marlene informs you she’s turning in for the night. You can’t say you blame her, needing to sleep on the off chance the team didn't return. She had informed you upon the group's exit that if the mission failed, the two of you would be heading to Salt Lake City at dawn.

You opt to stay awake, knowing well enough that you won't sleep until you are confident there will be no return.

Continuing your anxious circling of the room, you pick at your wounded cuticles. They are weeping blood down their knuckles thanks to hours of torture, yet you can't bring yourself to stop the self-destructive behaviour. Not while you wait for news.

Your heart practically leaps out of your chest at the sound of the main doors creaking open. It's so quiet you almost miss it in the silence, the sound of your blood rushing through the shell of your ear nearly drowning out the barely audible noise.

Grappling for your pistol, you release the safety and suck in a shaky breath. No one had announced themselves, and without guards on the door, there was no way to discern that those who had entered the building were Fireflies.

You shake with nervous energy, carefully stepping across the rickety wooden floor to conceal the sound of your movements. Had the US military found your hideaway? Surely not; they would have moved in before any threat to their organisation could be enacted

Leaning your back flush to the door frame in an attempt to conceal yourself, you listen out for any advancing danger. It's quiet at first, but you hear the scuff of a boot against the uneven floor cut through the silence. Inhaling swiftly, you ready yourself before lurching out from behind the door frame with your pistol aloft.

Shock wracks your body upon setting your eyes on the intruder that stands before you. Joel. Covered in blood from head to toe, his hands drip the viscous liquid onto the floor. The shoulder of his flannel is ripped open, loose threads sticking to his sweat-soaked skin.

"Oh-oh shit-“ you gasp out, horrified by the state you find him in. Given the state of his clothes and the sheer amount of blood that continues to run from his hair down his temples, your immediate thought is to check for wounds-but you can't see any. Sure, there is a scrape on his shoulder where the fabric of his flannel has ripped open and a cut that spans the length of his whole knuckle that you can see when he wipes the sweat from his brow, but other than that, you can't see any wound that would cause that much blood loss.

Joel, however, appears relatively unfazed as he points over his shoulder.

"Most came out with minor wounds," he states calmly, his gruff voice laced with exhaustion, "Lettin’ Marlene know we are back and that I have her guns."

It's as though Joel had just completed a simple sweep of the hideout parameters rather than one of the most dangerous and vital missions since the fireflies began their fight for humility, all without having received a single major wound.

As he walks away and leaves you gawping after him, frozen in place, you hear your team filtering in through the main doors behind you one by one. They are shouting your name and proclaiming their victory as they surround you, holding their hard-won weapons aloft. Despite their hollering, you can barely hear them over the frantic thoughts buzzing through your mind.

How?

It takes hours to ease the excitement and adrenaline buzzing through each of Joel's soldiers. You stitch up the wounded and listen to their battle stories in awe. They are enthusiastic about informing you of Joel's brilliance, frequently admitting that they could not understate how much of this victory they owed to him.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” one laughs incredulously. "There were more than we had expected, but it didn't phase him. He took out two of them on his own, and when his gun jammed, he knocked them out with his fists!”

Turns out that the four soldiers the fireflies had expected were accompanied by another five unaccounted for. Joel hadn't let it affect the team, pushing them ahead with the mission. By blinding them with smoke grenades, the team had been able to ambush successfully, and despite the physical tussle that resulted in Joel's bloodbath, the mission had otherwise gone just as planned, the fighting all wrapped up within moments.

According to the many recounts told as you patched up your friends, the only reason it took so long was that the weapons boxes were heavy and made for a tight squeeze in the tunnels. You could have cried at the stupidity of it all.

Eventually, Marlene joined in with the festivities, having been woken by Joel to confirm "Mission accomplished." Leftover Molotov cocktails from the mission we used as celebratory drinks that had the majority of your colleagues wasted within the hour - including your commander.

As fresh, golden beams of sunlight peered through the windows, you excused yourself to bed despite the drunken protests of your colleagues. After explaining your exhaustion, thanks to your immense concern, they reluctantly allowed you to leave on the condition you would celebrate with them later. You imagined their hangovers would be too severe for further partying.

Practically clawing your way to your barracks, you breathe a sigh of relief as you walk through the open door. You can still hear the shouts of jubilation downstairs, noting that you’d probably have to drown out the sounds by covering your head with a pillow. The mattress calls to you like a siren, promising rest. You plan to skip removing your clothes and fall into bed as you are-

"Didn't expect to be greeted with a gun to my head."

The heavy, Southern drawl that sounds from your doorway behind you makes the hairs on your arms stand on end. You wish you could say it was a fear response or disgust, but your heart leaps in your chest with excitement.

Swallowing thickly, you close your eyes to collect yourself before you turn to face him. Your inhale is so deep you feel the edges of your lungs ache at the strain before you turn around to face the Walking Headache.

Joel is leaning against the door frame as he had in the medical room before he left. He has bathed since you saw him an hour ago, scrubbing the gore from his body and dressing in fresh clothes. His hair is still damp, and you assume he’s been forced to borrow the outfit from one of his new-found friends, the seams a little too tight on his broad body.

"Yeah, well, I didn't expect to find a serial killer walking the halls either," you dig at the state he had returned in. It earns you a deep chuckle that resonates in his chest, and you can't help but note the way you hold your breath to hear the pleasant sound better.

"That how you treat all your commanders?" Joel questions, his voice lilting with a hint of humour that you find dangerous, your heart stuttering at the drastic change in him since the last time you were in this room together.

You let out a scoff that doesn't quite match the indifference you were attempting to convey. "Don't flatter yourself. You were consulted to lead one mission; that doesn't make you a commander."

He doesn’t like that.

Standing gormlessly in the middle of the room, you immediately regret the words as soon as they leave your lips. Joel is gazing at you with an intensity in his earthy irises, taking in your feigned lack of respect with a slight arch of his brow. It's less of a look of surprise than it is an unspoken challenge. It makes your body flush with heat.

The sense of security you feel with him on the other side of the threshold to your door bursts the moment he effortlessly steps inside. He has no issue with invading your personal space, finding it even easier when you fail to find the words to protest his intrusion.

Joel doesn't hesitate, but he also lacks urgency, taking his time to leisurely bridge the space between the two of you. Again, he is close enough that you can see the intricacies of his face. There is a myriad of delicate freckles and a small, ruddy scar that kisses the bridge of his nose.

You're so wrapped up in the tiny details that you almost miss the flicker of consideration in his eyes. Despite his steady, authoritative body language, he’s questioning whether or not he can say what he has in mind as he studies your expression carefully.

He leaps.

"Insubordination results in punishment, don’t it, soldier?" His volume pitches right down, each syllable buzzing through your veins as he maintains heavy eye contact that has your knees melting beneath you.

It's only when he speaks that you realise you have stopped breathing, your lungs burning in a desperate attempt to shake you from the trance he’s put you in.

You have no explanation for your response. You don’t have the chance to argue, to insult him for playing this ridiculous role. Instead, each word forces itself from your mouth upon your shaky exhale, coming out in a broken whisper.

“Yes, Sir." Your answer is spoken embarrassingly quickly. There’s a flash of something powerful in his eyes, like he’s still buzzing on residual adrenaline left over from the mission. It surges forward at your answer, and he clings to it, taking control of the room- of you.

“Atta Girl.”

It drips through you like honey, coating your insides and warming them. Your body tingles and pleads for Joel’s attention despite your best efforts to fight the need he draws from it as he drags his eyes across its length.

A tiny voice in your mind rears its ugly head. He’s probably pent up from fighting, and you’re still stressed from waiting up all night. You could give in to what you want. Doesn’t mean you like him.

Joel seems to hear it too, his eyes searching for a hint of approval. You can see he’s itching to touch you, to release the anger that you’ve built in him back onto you with tongues and teeth.

Doesn’t mean you like him.

“On your knees, soldier.” He commands, and it’s like his voice strokes something hedonistic inside of you because your body surges with arousal at the implication of his order.

Doesn’t mean you like him.

Against your better judgement, you slowly sink to your knees in front of Joel, eyes pin-set on the toes of his dirtied boots. The wooden floor smarts your knees, but you maintain your position in an effort to appease him.

Joel doesn’t move, feet firm in their place on the floor as you bow before him. He’s making you wait, arms loose at his sides. You don’t dare to lift your head to look at him, to urge him forward, instead straining your eyes upwards to watch the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Prickling heat teases at your skin, your arousal triggered, knowing he was watching you submit to him so easily. The tension grips you, finding it ironic that Joel entered every situation all-guns-blazing yet had utmost patience when it came to prolonging your suffering.

Your need condenses, acutely aware of Joel’s entire being. It’s as though you can feel his eyes trail over your body like a feather-light touch, and you swear that you can smell the dampness of his hair. Most of all, you focus on Joel’s even, quiet breathing, the expansion and deflation of his lungs acting like a metronome in the silence.

Then- God, then he’s moving his hand forward achingly slowly, fingertips pressing delicately against your left temple. The brush of his fingerprint over your skin ignites a humming arousal between your thighs, and you subconsciously press them together when he pushes his digits into your hairline.

Your jaw drops, slack as you exhale shakily. So starved for Joel’s touch, you’re more than grateful for the innocuous brush of his fingers along your scalp. It’s probably so obvious to him, your desperation, but he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he takes a step forward, his boot settling into the wooden planks you’re kneeling on, his feet on either side of your thighs.

Joel is so close you can feel the fabric of his jeans brush against your forehead. So frequently worn, the denim has lost that rough texture and could almost pass for cotton. You don’t dare to move, knowing if you so much as twitched, your nose would graze over his crotch through the material.

“Atta girl,” Joel murmurs, unironically this time, his voice rumbling in his chest. It cuts through the quiet so suddenly that it makes you jump, almost loud to your ears. He sounds pleased with your reception of his proximity, rewarding you by taking a firm but painless grip on the roots of your hair.

It’s as though you can read his mind. His pulse thrums in his palm against the soft flesh of your scalp, matching the thumping pace of your own. Joel doesn’t speak his thoughts out loud, yet it’s like he whispers into your ear. ‘Good soldiers get rewarded.’

The pressure he applies to the crown of your skull is minute, but it’s enough to push your face into his crotch. Your gasp of surprise is so loud that it almost drowns out the resonant hum that he releases, gripping tighter to your hair as you nuzzle into him.

Rock hard beneath your cheek; you can feel Joel’s cock twitch at the delicate friction you gift him. Having plunged so deep now, you no longer have to reason with yourself to take what you want, kissing the shaft of his dick through the fabric he wears. Again, your reward is to be pushed closer to him, the adrenaline pulsing through Joel’s veins causing a heavy-handedness that makes the walls of your pussy flutter.

“Look at you,” Joel growls as your tongue drags across the fabric his cock strains against, as if resorting to desperate measures to taste him, “Totally shameless.”

You can’t contain it, the whimper that bubbles in your throat. It sounds around Joel’s twitching cock, and it seems to rile him up, momentarily cracking his composure when he thrusts his hips forward slightly.

Fuck, it’s like he’s hypnotising you with his grunts and groans, your body liquidating as they heat you from the inside out. Heaving breaths indicate the magnitude of your desire, and you’re kneeling up before you can even think of the consequences of taking matters into your own hands.

Pushing your nose into the seam of the crotch in his jeans, you use the tip of your tongue to search for the zipper. The brass is warm when it brushes your tastebuds, a metallic tang coating them as you slide your tongue beneath it.

Carefully, you take the fastening between your teeth, lowering your head to drag the zipper down. You probably only manage four links of the chain before Joel’s hand shoves itself between you and the fabric, bumping your nose as he tears the button of his jeans open with a stuttery exhale.

He releases his cock from the confines of his pants, and God, you’re so thankful he does. A thatch of thick curls frames the base of his cock, a subtle curve to the veiny shaft that stands at attention beneath your gaze. The tip gleams in the low light seeping through your thin curtains, coated with precum that weeps from the head that’s flushed a dusty purple. He’s not too big, with a perfect girth and length to him that has you convinced he’d fit inside you just right-

Joel doesn’t allow himself to examine how you practically melt at the sight of him, wrapping his fingers around his shaft and steadying it with his thumb. In any other situation, the gentle slap of his cock against your cheek would have you leaping from the floor and throttling him, but you’re both so needy that you open your mouth greedily without prompt. It drives Joel insane.

“Hah,” he heaves, pressing the tip of his dick to your flat tongue, “Shit- oh shitshitsh-“

Joel sheathes himself inside your mouth with one long stroke of his hips, and you’re almost sure your throat stretches beyond its limits to accommodate him.

“Fuckin’ shit,” Joel curses heavily, watching your eyes brim with tears at the intrusion as you fight your gag reflex. When you glance up at him through your watery lashes, you catch the way his upper lip arches at the sensation of your tongue tracing the underside of his cock. He’s sweating, brow glistening with evident arousal on his brow, and your stomach flips at the concept that you were the one making him feel this way- breaking his almost impenetrable composure.

Carefully, you inch him further down your throat until the tip of your nose buries into the curls framing his pubic bone. A musky smell that is uniquely Joel coats your senses, and you find yourself almost dizzy at the concept of being totally surrounded by him, filled by him. Just hours ago, you couldn't stand him, couldn't bear to be around him, and yet now you think you'd cry if you pulled away.

Joel groans above you as you swallow around his length, his fingers grappling with your hair for purchase and gripping tightly to the strands at the crown of your head. You use Joel’s distraction to begin bobbing your head, slowly pulling off him and feeling him drag against the walls of your throat until the tip of his cock rests over the flat of your tongue. Before he can complain, you sink back down and take all of him back into your mouth, and you swear that you can see Joel’s eyes roll back into his school in your periphery.

"Ah- fu-“ Joel appears entirely enraptured by the sensation of the head of his cock catching on each little ridge of your throat, and you can see him watching you work him in and out of your mouth at a lazy pace. "Look at you- Hnng- So fuckin’ good."

As you get used to the sensation of the velvety skin bumping against your throat, you begin to experiment a little more. You use the slow, steady pace to drag your tongue over the length of his fraenulum and swirl it around the head. The salty taste of the precum beading at the slit pushes you further, feeling him twitch with your ministrations.

Throbbing aches begin to settle in your knees, complaining about kneeling against the wooden floor but are drowned out by Joel's heady groans and the tight coil of arousal between your thighs. It's as though you can feel your pulse throughout your body, complaining about the lack of attention, but also invested in the way Joel appears to be losing his composure that you can't find it in yourself to protest.

“Christ-“ Joel groans out above you, suddenly taking a firm grip of your hair and pulling you up and off of him. The burn in your lungs has you gasping for air as you look up at him in concern. Had you messed up?

Opening your mouth to ask him what you’d done wrong, you find the words die in your throat when Joel pushes the tip of his weeping cockhead against your lips again. He’s staring down at you with this look in his eyes, something dark and potent swirling in his pupils. You taste him on your tongue again, and Joel pushes your head down onto him again.

He's unable to control himself, driven by the sensation of your mouth around him. The comprehension makes your mind spin with pride, and again you submit to Joel.

It’s rough, your hair wrapped around his fingers to better his grip as he forces you to still. Your eyes tear up, leaking tears down your cheeks as he begins to fuck your mouth at a brutally satisfying pace. Despite the bruising sensation of his cock hitting your throat, you’re practically dripping in your underwear when seeing the way Joel snarls at the overwhelming bliss.

Grasping desperately onto his hips to brace yourself, you cling on as Joel fucks deep into your throat. The hinges of your jaw ache at the effort of holding your mouth open for him, but Joel doesn’t let your efforts go unnoticed.

His free hand brushes his rough knuckles across your cheekbone, sliding down your face so his palm can cup your throat. Joel lets out the most wicked groan, applying pressure to your neck to feel himself slide in and out of you.

“God- You feel that?” He laughs out incredulously, his cock twitching, “You’re takin’ me so fuckin’ good.” He’s mouthing off, a lot more talkative than usual. You put it down to the blood having rushed from his head to his co-

“Touch yourself,” he orders, and it’s like the oxygen he’s starving you of begins to make you think you’ve imagined it. Your eyes flutter and blink back tears, your brain working to figure out if he honestly said it. It’s only when he yanks your hair in an attempt to wordlessly urge you to do as told that your hands snap down to your waistband.

Blindly, you push your fingers beneath the waistband of your trousers, practically sobbing with relief as your fingertips clumsily brush your clit. It sparks white hot, the muscles in your thighs trembling as they brace your weight on your knees.

“Mhmmm fuck,” Joel rumbles, watching your face as he fucks into it, noting how your brows pull up at the pleasure you draw for yourself between your thighs.

It drives him insane. You can feel it. His dick twitches against your tastebuds, and you can feel his pulse in the thick vein that runs down the underside of his cock. Joel’s fingers paw at the back of your head, pushing you down onto his length and making you take him impossibly deeper. You’re choking on him, gagging around his girth. It makes your eyes stream, yet it just makes your fingertip swirl around your clit quicker, seeking that high you craved.

“Nuh-uh,” you hear Joel’s gruff voice, his palm patting you harshly on the cheek. Just enough to sting. “Focus right here, right here.”

Blinking through the teary haze and the surging arousal that grips your muscles, you only notice with a particularly sharp slap to your cheekbone that you had closed your eyes. Joel’s urging has you looking up through your wet eyelashes as he continues with his harsh thrusts.

Sinking your digits into your heat, you melt against the intrusion in your throat as the walls of your cunt flutter around your fingerprints. Severely neglected, your pussy aches and arches towards orgasm at breakneck speed. Under the weight of your body, your thighs tremble at your ministrations, and your brows pull together as if to brace against the impending crest of ecstasy.

“Oh fuck, yeah, just like that,” Joel rumbles under his breath, eyes set on your twisted expression as his hips begin to stutter. You feel his pulse on your tongue and draw clumsy, sloppy circles over your clit to match.

The groan that tears its way through Joel’s throat when he cums almost startles you, and you’re almost sure it does the same to him. His fingers are white-knuckling your hair in an attempt to brace for the surge of pleasure, his cum streaking down the back of your throat.

He watches as you desperately stroke over your throbbing clit and swallow his load without prompt. Even through your blurred vision, you can see his awed visage as he watches you take everything he gives.

Perhaps it’s the apparent appreciation he shows you when you hear him mumble a muffled ‘Jesus fuckin’ Christ’, or it’s finally rendering the argumentative Joel Miller borderline speechless. Still, you hurtle off the edge with barely any warning other than a split second of a hot white crackle up your spine.

Your body contracts inwards as you rub yourself through the crescendo, grateful Joel was with it enough to remove himself from your mouth just before. The ragged gasp you exhale sounds strangled, your orgasm blinding you in its onslaught. Your vision spots and slides out of focus, seeing double as the warmth ebbs away.

Soon, the only thing your hearing focuses on is the inhale and exhale of your lungs, sharp and clawing at the oxygen that keeps you from blacking out. Had you stopped breathing?

Joel turns away for a moment to right himself, pulling his jeans back up and buckling his belt again. The afterglow of such an earth-shattering orgasm makes everything slow, and you can’t help but smile almost dopily to yourself as you watch him ruffle his salt-and-peppered brown locks.

A sharp inhale drags you from your brain-melting comedown, settling back on your haunches and stretching out your aching legs as you watch Joel struggle for words. He looks conflicted, opening his mouth to speak and then firmly pressing his lips together in frustration.

Cotton sticks to your back thanks to the perspiration beading there, patches of the khaki shirt you wear stained with darker sweat patches. The birds are singing to fill his silence, allowing him a moment to approach his thoughts without awkwardness. You don’t push him.

“You wanna help me?” He tests the waters, mahogany eyes flicking to your face to gauge your reaction, “You know… Takin’ some time to smuggle instead’a doin’ this militia suicide task?”

It’s like he douses your sticky sweet, pleased muscles in ice-cold water in your shock. You certainly hadn’t expected him to like you, let alone ask you to work for him. It’s your turn to be speechless, the oxygen you had fought so hard to breathe catching in your throat and choking you.

“I-“ You swallow thickly, wanting to approach this carefully, “Joel, I made a promise.”

He nods slowly, eyes shifting to the wooden floor and seemingly tracing the rough surface of each plank as though it were the most exciting art installation he had ever had the time to take in. Perhaps it was. Joel didn’t seem the type to stop and smell the roses.

“I have to fulfil my promise to help find a cure,” you tread delicately, but it’s almost pointless because Joel agrees with a nod of his head, neither forceful nor resentful. He appears to take your word, wordlessly encouraging you to chase that ‘pipe dream’, as he had once called it.

“You got it,” he clears his throat roughly, clasping his hips with both hands as he exhales slowly, letting the implications of your decision sink into his bones. Certain death. There wasn’t much else out there for a Firefly, and you weren’t naive enough to think any different.

‘When you’re lost in the darkness, look for the light.’

You couldn’t turn away now. Not when these guns he’d hand-delivered made that light almost close enough to touch.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you watch him slowly pace to the door, wood creaking beneath his weight. He leans his palm against the frame, glancing back at you momentarily.

“There’s a spot for you, y’know? If you change your mind.”

A melancholy smile plays at the corner of your lips. The likelihood that you’d survive long enough to begin sufficiently regretting your decision and change your mind was slim, but the thought that Joel was willing to set a place aside for you…

“Thank you, Joel,” you whisper, shocked to hear your voice crack with emotion with the gratitude you show him.

Doesn’t mean you like him.

“Mhm,” he nods awkwardly, thumb brushing against the circumference of the watch that had dug into your collarbone 48 hours ago. There’s a tenderness in that touch, something that your cheekbones ache to experience. Instead, you ignore the infuriating pining of your body for the man who had irritated you only moments before, watching as he steps out into the hallway and out of sight, no doubt to grab his stupidly oversized backpack and slink away into the darkness of the underground tunnels and return to his regular trade.

Your heart strains in your chest, but it doesn’t mean you like him.

It doesn’t.

END

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#Joel miller #Joel miller x reader #Joel x reader #Joel miller x y/n #Joel miller x you #Joel miller fanfiction #Joel miller fic #Joel miller imagine #Joel miller the last of us #joel the last of us #the last of us #TLOU #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #1k+ club

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veliana · 4 months

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𝓕𝓲𝓻𝓮𝓯𝓵𝔂'𝓼 𝓖𝓵𝓸𝔀: 𝓐 𝓝𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓣𝓪𝓵𝓮

Summary:During a walk with Malleus, you see fireflies, which remind you of a beautiful story. Tw : The reader summarizes the plot of Grave of the Fireflies by Ghibli (so,spoilers from the movie) Type : Fluff Number of words: 332

____________

Y/n was strolling quietly in the gardens of Night Raven College, the night having fallen for quite some time. Suddenly, a familiar voice was heard behind them. It was Malleus, the prince of Briar Valley, inviting them to join him for a nighttime walk.

"Child of man, would you like to come with me?" declared Malleus in a soft voice.

Y/n nodded with a smile, allowing the prince to guide them into the dark corners of the campus. As they walked among the trees, Y/n suddenly noticed fireflies illuminating their path.

Intrigued, Malleus approached and observed the small lights with curiosity. Y/n, noticing his interest, decided to briefly tell him the story of "Grave of the Fireflies"

"Child of man, the fireflies seem to interest you greatly, why is that?" asked Malleus.

Y/n smiled softly. "They remind me of a movie called 'Grave of the Fireflies.' It's the story of two orphaned children during the war. They struggle for survival, and the fireflies accompany them on their journey, offering them a bit of light in the darkness."

Malleus's eyes shone with a new light, filled with understanding and compassion. He listened carefully to every word, absorbing the story with evident fascination. When Y/n finished speaking, he looked at the fireflies thoughtfully, as if seeing through them the echoes of the story that had been told to him.

"Thank you, child of man, for this captivating story," he finally said in a voice filled with emotion. "It seems that even in the darkest moments, there is always a glimmer of hope."

Y/n smiled, grateful to have shared this special moment with the prince of dragons. Then, Malleus turned to Y/n with a gentle smile and said, "Child of man, you are my firefly, illuminating my night with your presence."

They continued their nighttime walk, cradled by the gentle glow of the fireflies, while Y/n felt enveloped by Malleus's warm words.

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland Malleus #malleus x you #malleus twst #diasomnia #malleus fluff #fluff

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casinocarpediem · 4 months

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MOREEEEE BEN REILLY 🙏🙏🙏 IM BEGGING

▪︎■☆Benny, Baby☆■▪︎

☆ 🔞!!NOT SAFE FOR WORK UNDER THE CUT!!🔞

☆ cis!Ben Reilly / spiderhero!male reader

☆ Drabble and probably OOC

☆ angst and fluff headcanons first

☆ kind of cringe? Maybe? Maybe not? Depends on who's reading it

°○☆happy reading☆○°

☆ his morning voice is so deep but not in a sexy way its more like a funny way. Maybe not overly goofy but he's so loopy since he's still a little sleepy he will make you laugh a little with his voice.

☆ seldomly clumsy. He'll walk through corridors and move his hips to avoid hitting tables and when he miscalculates a move he'll wince in pain, but if you're there he'll try to pretend nothing ever happened.

☆ He's clingy. Like, puppy clingy. He'll never admit it but the next best thing other than working out is holding you. It could be in any kind of context. A fluffy moment, a sad scenario, or something a little more intimate. But don't expect him to get his grabby hands off of your body 24/7 because he just loves to hold you and be there for you.

☆ look at me in the eye and tell me he isn't dramatic. ATSV Scarlet spider here, imagine watching Grave of the Fireflies with this guy. Get your tissues.

☆ His hair is so silky. I'm sure he maintains it well. He's willing to share his own secrets to you so that the two of you are walking around with hair everybody wishes they had. haha.

☆ He's a little bit of a jealous person. Not in a toxic way, per se. But he's a little insecure whenever you spend time laughing and talking with the other spidermen. Usually the Peter's. Ben knows he's a clone. He thinks he's just a copy. He hopes you don't leave him for something more "original".

☆ continuation of the hc above me, he'll try holding your hand whenever you're talking to somebody. Not all the time. Just when he feels uneasy. Just a little reminder to you that he's there. Please don't go.

☆ bad nights aren't common between you two but he'll let his laid back facade fade away and he'll lean on you for comfort. You're his strength. His beacon of light. In a world quite cruel he knows he can rest on your shoulder and recharge his energy just being around you

☆ he loves to work out with you. Definitely. He's your best gym buddy and you'll end up exerting more effort into your routine because of how fun and challenging it is with Ben. He might forget a few basic equipment... so be prepared

☆ I just really like to think that he's a clingy puppy when you two are alone, and small remnants of that desperation for your attention clinging in the air. Hugs and cuddles, thumbs-up. Hand holding and a few kisses, thumbs up. Brushing his face against your chest or vice versa whenever you to get to bed, oh absolutely.

☆ I don't know if he'd be a PDA person, but he definitely would be. He likes showing how much he loves you. Like, every part of you. Your hands, your smile, you're voice, everything. It's like a warm presence that has him forgetting about all of the shit that made him edgy /hj. He'd hold your hand on your arm or your shoulder or whatever. He likes touching you

☆ call him petnames. Any kind as long as if it's a petname. And as long as if it's made by you. That takes the cake. His personal favorite is "Benny baby" because 1, it's adorable, 2, it's catchy.

°○☆ nsfw under the cut ☆○°

☆ He's sloppy. Literally about everything. When you'll kiss him or if he'll kiss you it doesn't matter who takes initiative, he won't hesitate to use his tongue. Sucking your tongue to get a better taste of it. Or kissing your cheek so much it becomes wet in a few minutes. He'll drool like a dog no matter what he does. He'd be ashamed of it at first but when you'll reassure him that it's normal and everybody has their own quirks during sex he won't try to struggle and hide it.

☆ pull his hair. He'd adorably whine and complain. He'd tell you to stop but he doesn't want you to stop. The first time you tried it he was feeling conflicted but he definitely didn't try to stop you the next time around.

☆ he'll probably try to cover his face whenever you fuck him. He's so shy all of the sudden... so when you web/cuff his hands above his head, leaving him powerless to cover his face he pretty much just cums sooner.

☆ if you're somewhere else and he's somewhere private, he'll send you a picture of his abs. Pretty normal. That is until he'll send you even more provocative pictures. That's when you snap and try to finish the errand to get home as soon as possible and fuck him till he goes blind.

☆ PET PLAY‼️‼️‼️ Please please PLEASE treat this man like a horny little mutt. He'll go crazy when you call him puppy or bitch or literally whatever. He's a golden retriever isn't he? Oh he'll melt. Get him a leash too. A pretty collar with your name on it. He'd hide it well away from guests but when you two are alone... he has his fun.

☆ remember what I said about pet play? Oh boy, take it to the next level and he'll go nuts. Literally. Strap him tight on a pet crawler and treat him like a legitimate dog. You probably wouldn't need to touch him for him to cum anymore at that point. Drowning in humiliation to the point where all he could do is whimper for your touch, a command, a word literally anything.

☆ he likes to be degraded. Call him a stupid mutt and tease him about his "rut". How badly he wants to breed/be bred. He'll let out a series of whines and please unless you gag your little puppy. Perhaps if you don't gag him, you can make him woof a little. It's embarrassing. Humiliating but Ben's already past point of clarified thinking.

☆ that doesn't me he isn't a fan of praise! Call him a sweetheart. Your loving little puppy. A good boy. Brush your fingers against his hair and scratch his scalp just right. He'll cum right then and there. Dick frotting against your leg. That is, if you gave him permission. If you spoil him and let him suck your dick while you praise him he'll get drunk. So unbelievably drunk, you'll end up doing most of the work again.

☆ rarely ever a bad boy. He'll follow your orders. And if he's being a brat... well, taming him isn't hard.

☆ if you're going to be bottoming he'll be really soft with it. He'll only go hard if you tell him to. He'll do everything you tell him to do. Go soft? He'll go soft. Move faster? He'll rut inside of you while he sobs out how good you feel around him.

☆ oh my god this man's cum. He definitely cums a lot. Ugagahahh like,,, BROOOOO. Istg. It drops down his dick like thick droplets of pearls and its so filling. Goddamn, doesn't matter if you dom or he does its so much. Please milk him.

☆ oh he has a happy trail. Fuzzy, dirty blonde, well kept ish. He doesn't like to shave it because when it grows back it just gets itchy.

☆ He's a biter. Doesn't matter who's on top. Expect love bites everywhere, anywhere. It feels right to him. In a possessive way. He's yours, your his. Actually, try marking him too. It's hotter that way.

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fog-and-the-frost · 6 months

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//ooc but This blog has me So Hooked on the storyline and characters, the whole atmosphere is so damn scary and gloomy and I LOVE IT. It reminds me a little bit of "Grave of the fireflies" in that aspect, when hope gets extinguished and you just have to keep pressing on because there's just nothing else to do. Your writing combined with your expressive art style just brings me to tears <3 Lovely work, keep it up !!

THANK YOU!!!! i love that movie so much . ty :3

#rffooc

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plussizedreader · 7 months

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Hello all! I was inspired by the amazing @391780 and her fat reader stories to start this blog (so give her a follow!) anyways introduction post!

My name is Bo/Maul, and this blog will be dedicated to ONLY fat readers with canon characters with multiple fandoms. There will be smut, so this blog will be 18+, so any younger I will block! I will primarily write a fem reader, but will try my hardest to try male or gn readers!

Here are the fandoms and characters I’ll write for! I try to get all my smaller interest in here for those who also like it and get zero content for it!

Horror-

House of Wax (Bo, Vincent, and Lester)

Firefly trilogy (Baby, Otis, Foxy, I will write Spaulding, but fluff and anything but smut since he reminds me a lot of my grandpa lol)

31 (Doomhead)

Micheal Myers from any version of the series

Texas Chainsaw Massacre (any version of Leatherface Thomas, Bubba etc, Choptop)

Near Dark (Severen, Jesse, Diamondback)

Saw (Peter Strahm, Mark Hoffman, Amanda Young, Adam Stanheight)

Video Games-

Red Dead Redemption (Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch Van Der Linde, Charles Smith, Javier Escuella, Sadie Adler, Karen Jones, Abigail Roberts-Marston, Mary-Beth Gaskill, Tilly Jackson, Susan Grimshaw)

Call of Duty Modern Warfare Remake Games (John Price, Simon Riley, Soap, Gaz, Alex Keller, Farrah (I’ll write romance but no smut for Farrah!), Kate Lazwell, Phillip Graves, Vladimir Makarov.)

Last of Us (Joel Miller, Ellie Williams (I will ONLY write adult Ellie and only ever with a Fem reader) Abby Anderson, Tommy Miller)

Days Gone (Deacon St John, Boozer)

Mortal Kombat (Johnny Cage, Kenchi,Sub Zero, Scorpion, Shang Tsung, Shao Khan, Mileena, Kitana, Sindel, Kabal, Kano, Erron Black. NOTE please specify which timeline these characters are from or which movie so I know the correct characterization!)

Resident Evil series (Lady Dimitrescu, Heisenberg, Carlos Olivera, Chris Redfield.)

Movies/TV-

Star Wars (Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Darth Maul)

Stranger Things (Hopper, Eddie Munson)

Blacklist (Raymond Reddington)

With that being said, while I will write smut, there are things I will not write, such as fat fetish and weight gain fetish bullshit, and I will continue to expand this list, also I can just simply say no I’m not gonna write it if I don’t like it lol.

This list is bound to change with my interest and I’ll add and take off things as needed! Please send in any request and I’ll start working on it shortly!

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missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway · 2 months

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One day I'll be dancing on your grave...

Summary:

Lucien “Luci” Greco, you’re piece of shit ex, has come to NY looking for you. He's the reason you had to leave everything behind in the first place. Didn't stop him from searching for you though. The long lost mafia princess. He needs you if he is ever to rightfully take over the family from your father Declan. Little does he know you're doing mercenary work for the highest bidder. He still thinks you're some wilting damsel, a spoiled little princess. Your daddy didn't raise you that way though. You've been primed to take over since birth. Too bad he beat the shit out of you so badly you had to run for your safety. Somehow, even trying to stay under the radar you've befriended the damn Avengers family. A misfit mafia if you’ve ever seen one. You’re all after the same enemy afterall. Maybe, it's time to finally let someone or several someones in, so you can live life without constantly looking over your shoulder. Question is, do you even want the crown anymore?

Warnings:

Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blood and Violence, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Past Violence, Mafia Avengers, Mafia AU, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Woman on Top

Notes:

Hello Heathens! Welcome to this dark little mafia world I've created. Please be aware there are dark themes throughout this story so be sure to check the tags with each new chapter just in case there may be something that triggers you. Happy reading! Banner @cafekitsune Divider @firefly-graphics

“Well if it isn't the White Wolf and his Captain.” You deadpan as you enter your living room.

“Jinx.” Bucky speaks from his place on the couch.

“To what do I owe the displeasure of finding you in my home?”

“We came to return this.” Steve places a dagger on the coffee table. “Seems you left it behind.”

“Oh Steven. I don't ‘leave’ anything behind. Every blade has a purpose. You should know that by now. That one was left as a reminder of what happens when people underestimate me.” You start to clean the dirt from under your blood soaked hands with another dagger.

“Now if you're done posturing or whatever it is you came here to do. You can kindly show yourselves out. I have a date with my clawfoot tub, a bottle of 151 and season 2 of the Witcher to get to.”

You turn on your heels and head down the hallway towards your bedroom, undressing and leaving a trail of bloody clothes behind you along the way. You're faithful Doberman Hades on your heels. The pair of enforcers sat on your couch are fixated on the sway of your hips until your form leaves their line of sight.

Bucky runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back. “What do you want to do about this? I’ve never known her to kill just for fun. Clearly someone with deep pockets hired her to take out Sitwell. Not that I’m complaining. That Hydra piece of trash deserved it.”

“Tony is going to want answers. Answers that only she can give.” Steve shrugs.

“If she’s willing. She’s not the biggest fan of Tony.”

“Thankfully she loves Pepper. Let’s see if she’ll come to the compound with us voluntarily first.”

Arching his brow and giving Steve a sly grin. “Afraid to get your hands dirty Stevie.”

“More like I’d prefer to have her tied up in my bed than in the back of my Range Rover.”

“Don’t we all Stevie. Don’t we all?”

You’re staring at yourself in the mirror as your phone begins to vibrate along the counter. You glance down and upon seeing the name flashing across the screen you take a calming breath and answer.

“It’s done. There was no need for you to check in on me.”

“That any way for you to talk to your Da? I know it’s done. I had 100% faith in ya to finish the task. I did raise ya after all. So what if I wanted to check in on ya. You’re so damn far away now. I’m not allowed to call my daughter?” Declan proclaims.

“Da. What do you need? You never call to just check in. We don’t work that way. If you wanted to see how I was doing, you’d fly a goon of yours out and stalk me for a week before deciding if it was worth it to come out here to see me. So what is it? I can’t re kill Sitwell for you.”

“Alright. Alright. I get it." He sighs into the phone. "I have some info I feel ya need to know.”

“And that is?”

“Lucien has been gone for a week. Said he had some business to attend to out of town. I just came to find out from one of his little lackeys that said business seems to be in your neck of the woods. Be careful, petal. Keep your eyes open. He very well may be there for some reason other than to hunt you down and drag you back, but I won't risk it.”

You freeze at the mention of your toxic, waste of space, abusive ex. The reason you had to run away to NY in the first place. You swallow and test the water for your bath.

“Thanks for the heads up. I’ll stay vigilant, as always. Now leave me be so I can enjoy my post kill ritual.”

“Never one to waste words.”

“I got it from you. Night Old Man.”

“Night Petal.”

Placing your phone on the tray next to the tub you proceed to submerge yourself in the steamy water. You tilt your head back and exhale as tortured memories bring themselves to the surface.

“Sunshine” His voice is getting closer to the darkened corner you’re hiding in. “Come out, come out wherever you are.” He throws one of the dining room chairs away from the table. “Come on baby, I won’t hurt you. I promise. I didn't mean to scare you. You know how I get when I have a shit day and your dad calls attention to my fuck ups in front of everyone.”

His steps get closer and the next thing you know his hand is in your hair and he’s pulling you out into the living room. Tossing you harshly on to the coffee table. You barely get your hands out in front of you before your face can connect with the solid wood.

“You know better than to hide from me, Sunshine. For that, I’m gonna deny you the use of my tongue to open you up. Hopefully you’re wet enough cause I’ve got a lot of pent up anger that I need to get rid of. Don’t move if you know what’s good for you and take this dicking I’m so graciously giving you.”

You brace yourself as he slams himself inside you, grabbing a fistful of your hair and craning your neck back so he can wrap his other hand around it. He’s squeezing so tight you know there will be finger shaped bruises left behind.

You find yourself zoning out as you try to preserve your precious air and he continues his brutal pace. It’s the only way to get through it with your mind intact. Your body will heal. It’s the emotional trauma you're most afraid of. Before you get too lost in your head, he speeds up, hips moving erratically until he stills and you feel him empty inside you. Thank the goddess is stamina is so shitty.

“Much better.” He kisses the back of your head. “See how easy that was Sunshine. Go get yourself cleaned up so we can have dinner. I don’t feel like staying in so wear something that’ll help cover those bruises. Don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”

You numbly nod your head and limp off to your ensuite bathroom where you stare at the mottled mess of purple around your neck. You heave a sigh and get to work covering up his handiwork.

Hades emitting a low growl, snaps you out of your daydream when the pair of Super Soldier enforcers saunter into the ensuite to see if they can persuade you to come to the compound of your own freewill. You decide then and there to have a little fun with them first. A sort of quid pro quo if you will. You're keyed up from your kill and want to drown out the memories of your past that seem to want to flood back tonight. What better way than with some orgasms.

“Can I help you? As you can see I’m trying to relax.” You announce to the steam filled room.

“Tony would like to see you. He has some questions pertaining to your last kill.” Steve states.

“And before you give some snarky ass comment, we’re asking if you wouldn’t mind coming in with us of your own accord. Although I’m more than okay tying you up and dragging you in myself.” Bucky wiggles his eyebrows and shoots you wink.

“Okay.” You casually declare.

“What?!” The soldiers stare at each other in shock over how easy that was. Too easy.

“What’s the catch?” Steve asks.

“It’s simple, really. It’s a win/win all around. I’ll go if Bucky uses those metal fingers of his and gets me off, then lets me ride him while I suck on that golden dick of yours Captain.”

“Deal!” Bucky blurts out, making his way over to the tub as he rolls up his left shirt sleeve.

He wastes no time submerging his hand in the hot water and seeking out your folds. He lightly runs his fingers along them and up to your clit where he makes a couple light circles, eliciting a moan from you.

“Fucking soaking and it aint even from the bath water. You’ve thought about this before, haven't you Doll.”

“Wh-what can I say? The metal is sexy. Oh Fuck!” He slides two thick digits knuckle deep inside you and curls them upward. “Yes. Yes. Right there. Right fucking there Wolfie.”

Your head is thrown back in complete pleasure as you give in to the manipulation of Bucky’s metal digits. Steve is off to the side, all of his blood having run to his cock, making his pants extremely uncomfortable, watching you writhe and make the most delicious sounds.

“That’s it. Come on babygirl. I can feel how close you are. Give it to me and then you can take me for a ride. I know you want to be stuffed full.”

His words have the desired effect and your pussy squeezes down on his fingers as you detonate and ride the wave of your orgasm.

Before you fully can come down from your high, you're pulled from the water and impaled on Bucky’s thick girth as he sits on the edge of the tub. The stretch and feeling of being so full almost sets you off once again. You take a moment to let your body accommodate him.

“Thought you wanted to ride me, Doll? So ride. Before I change my mind and bend you over this tub instead.”

Your hips move of their own accord at his threat. Undulating and bouncing to a sensuous rhythm. Losing yourself in the moment.

That is until Steve strolls over and teases your lips with his precome coated tip. “Open up, Doll. Gotta make good on that deal.”

You gaze up at the Golden Adonis standing to your right and give him one sweet kitten lick before you take him down to the root. Hollowing your cheeks, you begin to bob your head along his length, sucking the life out of him. He can’t help the moans and groans slipping out of his mouth as you suck his dick like no one ever has before.

Knowing your mouth is setting the Captain's world upside down, you pick up the pace, grinding and bouncing on the dick splitting you open. You set a tempo that has the room filled with nothing but the wet sounds of skin against skin, moans and language that would make a nun blush.

Bucky has a firm grip on your hips as he pulls you down one final time and erupts inside you, triggering your own orgasm. You come screaming around Steve’s length, setting him off as well. Rope after rope of his hot white seed coats your tongue and throat as you swallow every precious drop.

Releasing him from your mouth you lick any run away drops off your lips and proceed to lift yourself off of Bucky’s lap. “Fuck that was even better than I imagined it’d be. We most certainly need to do that again. Many many times.” You grin devilishly. You are a glutton for sin after all.

You grab a washcloth, dip it into the hot bath and begin to clean up the mess Bucky left behind. Satisfied with the level of cleanliness, you turn towards the out of breath enforcers. “I’m nothing, if not a woman of my word. Grab yourselves a drink and recoup while I throw something presentable on for the big boss man. What are we riding in by the way? Will I need my leathers or are we in a cage tonight?”

“As much as I would love to see you in your leathers, straddling me on the back of my bike.” Bucky bites his lip at the image presented in his mind. “Stevie here, brought his Range. So cage it is tonight, Doll. Gonna have to save that ride for another time.”

“No problem. You’ll just have to enjoy that sight when you're watching me from behind as I sped past you on my Ducati.” You tease.

“You won't be ahead for long, sweetheart. And once I catch you, I’ll gladly bend you over it and fuck you til cant stand, let alone handle you bike and are stuck riding bitch with me.” He cockily proclaims.

“Promises. Promises.” You smugly smile back.

Steve interrupts your moment before it escalates further. “Okay. Enough you two. Although I would love to watch that transpire, we do have somewhere to be. Come on Buck, let our little murder queen get dressed. We’ll be ready when you are Jinx.”

You walk up to Steve and plant a kiss on his cheek. “Always so polite. Even after you just had your massive dick shoved down my throat. Oh you're the best kind of dangerous. I can’t wait to see you unhinged.”

With a whistle to Hades you head back into your room and your walk-in closest to throw on some clothes and be on your way to the Avengers compound.

"There's the woman of the hour. I thought you'd put up more of a fight with the Super Soldiers. Guess I was wrong this time. We were just talking about you." Tony gets up from his chair, grinning.

"We?" You question.

"He'd be talking about me." You gaze down to a blonde head of slick back hair and a voice that haunts your nightmares sitting in front of Tony.

"Jinx, I'd like you to meet…"

"Lucien Greco." You deadpan.

He stands from his seat and turns in your direction. His blue eyes scan you from top to bottom. Cocky smirk plastered on his face. "Hello Sunshine. I was hoping I'd find you here."

"No one calls me that anymore." Another emotionless response from you.

"So I've heard. Jinx. Fitting if I do say so." You barely restrain the growl that wants to emit from your chest.

"You know him?" Bucky asks.

"Yeah. He's the asshole who gave me this.” You lift your shirt and pull up the center of your bralette, showing off the jagged scar in the middle of your sternum. “Right before he left me for dead on the side of the road."

“I didn't leave ya for dead darlin’. I was always coming back. Just needed to teach ya a lesson first.” Lucien imparts.

Before he gets a chance to even take a step, you have him pinned against Tony’s desk. Your favorite dagger, precariously placed under his chin. Blade pressed so close against his throat, a deep breath would break the skin.

“Tony. Please get on with whatever it is you need to discuss with me. Every second that passes I’m one step closer to slitting his throat and that’s just too quick of a death for him in my book. So make it quick and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Tony lets out a sigh. “Unfortunately you’re going to have to deal with him for this discussion. Says he knows who hired you for the hit on Sitwell and that we’re all after the same thing. Revenge.”

“Of course he knows who would have hired me for this hit. He’s been working for him since he was a teenager. Been around him his whole life actually. He is correct about revenge though.” You state a little too calmly.

“Are you implying Declan Scott paid you for killing Sitwell?” Tony questions.

“Never said I got paid for the job.” You shrug your shoulder.

“Why didn't you get paid?” Steve utters.

With a smug little grin Lucien answers for you. “That’s an easy one, boys. He killed her mother. In fact he was the reason she went into labor. Little Sunshine here was born in blood. Taking her first breath as her mother took her last.”

“You’re extra chatty tonight Luci? It’s a pity those words just might be your last.” You look him dead in the eyes, a look of murder in yours.

“Wait. Wasn’t Declan’s wife murdered while pregnant? He has a daughter right? She’s been MIA for the last 3 years.” Bucky adds in.

“That would be, correct gentleman. Although I wouldn't classify her as MIA any longer now would I darlin’.” Lucien chuckles.

You press the dagger in a fraction harder and watch as a trickle of blood begins to slide down his neck.

“Alright. Enough with being vague. Just tell us what you're trying to say, Greco.” Steve growls out.

Smug as ever he lets them know what’s going on. “Alright. Alright. I’ll lay it all out. You’re little Jinx here, is Declan Scott’s one and only daughter. The rightful heir to the Bay Area Mafia. I’ve come to drag her back home where she belongs before Hydra makes good on their threat and ends her fathers life.”

“I’ll be going nowhere with you.” You say through gritted teeth. “You seem to have left out the part where you only want me home so you can lock me up and throw away the key. That way you can run things solo. Not happening. I’d rather bleed out in a ditch again than see you take over for my father. Whatever deal you thought you’d strike here it’s over. Your word is as good as a knife in the back. Your mouth is full of nothing but slick words and a poisonous tongue.”

“You used to love my wicked tongue Sunshine.” You press the dagger in a bit further once again. The tiny river of crimson soothing your raging emotions.

Not wanting to have to clean blood out of the carpets Tony takes charge of the tense situation. “As sexy as it is watching her hold you at knife point, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Seems you are no longer needed for this conversation.”

He presses a button on his desk. “Happy. Would you mind escorting our guest off the premises please. Take him wherever he wants to go, as long as it’s far from here.”

“Will do, Sir.” Happy replies.

“Thanks. Now Jinx. I’m gonna need you to step back from the deadbeat ex so Happy can remove him.”

Bucky comes up behind you and places his flesh hand on your hip and his metal one around the wrist holding the dagger. He whispers in your ear so only can hear. “Let’s make him wish he never stepped foot in here thinking he could get one over on you.” He kisses along your neck as he lowers your hand away from the lowlife's, guiding it down to your thigh, where he helps you return it to its sheath.

“That’s my girl. Head on over to Tony now. Steve and I will be right behind you.” He places a final kiss on your lips and turns you toward is awaiting boss.

You walk over to Tony and he grabs your hand, kissing your knuckles. “We have a lot to discuss, little one. Seems you’ve been holding back on us.”

You laugh. “Don’t say I didn't warn you.”

#poc reader #avengers x reader #avengers smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #mafia au #steve rogers x reader

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 1 month

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Hi ari 🤍 brought you a question. Again 😋 Which ghibli movies or characters best suit different jjk characters? Mention non ghibli anime too if u want :D include the heartbreaking film - grave of the fireflies if you have seen it. Gotta sleep bye!! Have a nice day 😁

hi toruuuu :333 thank you for the question!!! I LOVE STUDIO GHIBLI SOOOOO MUCH i actually haven’t watched grave of the fireflies tho 😭😭 i’m most familiar w the miyazaki movies but i’ll include some others for this question too !! most of these are entirely vibe-based LMAO

satoru - howl’s moving castle

do i even need to say it ???? gojo is howl. howl is gojo. they’re soooo similar and this movie in general just reminds me of him sm :(((( i think he’d love it a lot!!! the star motifs, the war, the breakfast and kindness in sophie’s found family…… howl who is so strong and out of reach. who views himself as a monster. but he finds love in so many ways and he gives love to so many people….. sob. he makes me so emotional. he’s also a pathetic loser which is very gojocoded <3333

suguru - spirited away

I HAD TO PICK IT . I HAD TO. throwback to my childhood friend!sugu and his queer awakening being haku LMAO……. i just think this movie is so unbelievably sugucoded with all the yōkai and ominous vibes…. but then also those little bits and pieces of family as a theme :3 obv he reminds me a lot of haku. with the dragon form and everything… the devotion….. think sugu would love this movie a ton and i think nanamimi would adore it. they force him to watch it all the time hehe

shoko - castle in the sky

CHOOSING ONE FOR SHOKO WAS TOUGHHH but eventually i landed here ….. this one is entirely vibe-based but. just. the plot…. the pirates and planes and high-speed chase scenes and the castle in the sky with all its advanced technology….. especially the castle. the robots!!!! the retrofuturistic style in general is soooo shoko…. and obviously the war themes but that’s kind of a given for any of miyazaki’s works. honestly i think porco rosso is very very shokocoded too but i had to give that to another one of my blorbos….. this movie just makes me feel so nostalgic and i think the themes fit shoko a ton :3

honourable mention to the ghibli lupin movie that i Have Not Seen but i just KNOW shoko would love it. trust. anything detective/phantom thief based makes me think of her

kenny - the boy and the heron / nausicaä of the valley of the wind

I COULDN’T DECIDE 💔 nausicaä was another big contender for shoko’s movie but i just think it’s too weird and freaky to give to anyone but kenny. that movie TRAUMATIZED me as a child. and i think kenny would love it. also just???? the creepy bugs????? nature vs humanity?????? those themes feel so kenny. he’d like the protag a lot i think!!

as for the boy and the heron…. it’s just Vibes. the heron reminds me of kenny!! and i think he’d love the movie a lot…. the depictions of war and the fantasy world, the blend between comedy and violence….. i just feel like there’s such a strong contrast between the bleak realism and the colourful fantasy elements. and that makes me think of kenny!!! i want to watch this movie w him so BAD bro i know his commentary would be the best 😔😔

toji - porco rosso

IT FITS HIM SO WELL. I FEEL INSANE. porco rosso is one of my Absolute Favorite ghibli movies andddd i think toji would love it / it’s just so Him!!!! porco rosso is genuinely him. a literal pig who smokes cigars and flies jet planes….. this movie is so special to me and it’s just giving toji vibes :3 the cigarettes and planes and beautiful gorgeous women…. the macho men. etcetc. but also the grief and the tender scenes….. i’ll never forget that One scene with all the planes of the people who died ascending up into the sky :(((( yeah. this movie is so good and so underrated and i think toji would love it sooooo damn bad

nobara - whisper of the heart / the cat returns

had to give my best girl the best movie <333 being whisper of the heart. but since the cat returns is connected to it and also very nobaracoded i thought i’d go with both!!!! the cat returns is just so funnnn and since nobara is a cat person i think it’s perfect for her!! i can imagine her watching it as a kid and having a crush on both the protag AND the baron lmao. she watches it for comfort now n then <33

and whisper of the heart…. my favorite ghibli movie Of All Time <333 it’s sooo nostalgic and coming-of-age as a genre is very Her. there are so many fun lovely scenes that i think noba would like :((( idk if she’d actually like romance movies bUT. shizuku’s journey with writing and growing up and finding more control in her life feels very nobara. she’s true to herself!!!! i think nobara would hateeee seiji tho rip to him 💀💀 these movies just bring me soooo much comfort and nobara does too <333

megumi - ponyo

THIS ONE IS JUST SO. yeah. the nature themes?? the sea???? the fishes?????? everything is so megumi i could see him loving this movie soso much :(((( he’s embarrassed to admit it but it’s his comfort movie. he loves the scene w the ramen…. idk the vibes here are just very gumi. again!!! the sea!!!! the sea rising to the surface!!!!!! all the underwater scenes are so vibrant and pretty….. ALSO THE ABSENT FATHERISM? yeah. megumi is ponyocoded. he loves it so much <33 watches it with yuji and nobara and feels so cozy. baby boy.

mai - kiki’s delivery service

you know i had to give this one to her <333 momo and miwa and her watch it for sure. ANOTHER one of my Absolute Favs btw and it’s just!! yeah. it’s mai. what can i say. the witches and cats and also just the whole theme of being thrust into a completely new environment??? having to adjust???? and the difficulty kiki has with that…. her eventual burnout :(((( it just reminds me a bit of mai’s life. i think she’d love to run away to a completely different country… find a place where she feels wanted and loved. sniffle. i love this girl w all my heart :(((( i like to think that her and maki watched this one as kids…. maki likes the more action-leaning ghibli movies more but she would watch it to make mai happy. i love them.

takaba - pompoko

aaaand finally!!!! a silly movie for a silly meowmeow :3 NO BUT ACTUALLY THOUGHH CAN WE PLS TALK ABOUT THIS MOVIE . I’M NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO LOVES IT RIGHT…. it’s just so funny and sooooo weird but also soso heartfelt and that’s takaba down to a tee!!! the japanese mythology elements made me think of kenny too….. this movie is both kenny and takaba coded i think. they’d both love it. BUT YEAH I JUST THINK THIS MOVIE IS VERY HIM…. the tanukis and their lil adventures :3 but also the spooky scenes. and the struggles they face!! when humans destroy their homes!!!! takaba would watch this movie and he would cry. sweet sweet puppy of a man.

#THANK YOUUU FOR THE FUN QUESTION <333 #it’s been a while since i watched some of these but i love them very much :3 #ask tag ✩

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centrally-unplanned · 2 months

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Thought this interview (From a 1987 issue of Animage) about Grave of the Fireflies from director Isao Takahata & animator Yasuo Ōtsuka was quite fun. Otsuka was a young teen during World War Two, similar to the protagonist of the film, and so the discussion was about uncovering the "real stories" of that time.

And he comments that he is a pretty bad example to go to because while most people of the time surely were experiencing tragedy, he was running around going "oh cool, an air raid!" Absolutely the kind of kid who would climb up to a hill and do sketches of military hardware or battles because, neat, why wouldn't you. And meanwhile it was a great time to explore nature, adult control was low and fish were everywhere.

He is laughing at himself tone-wise but I think its an underappreciated truth - war is simultaneously tragic but also exciting, and its very human to experience that. It doesn't justify the tragedy, but no one (here at least) is claiming it does, and you profit little from ignoring that side of things. It reminds me of when I was a very similar age to Otsuka at that time watching 9/11 happen; I wasn't that sad, I was excited! I felt the thrumming of history in the air around me, the intensity of the spectacle. And I was too young for the reality of it to blunt that for me.

Grave of the Fireflies definitely doesn't lean into this element, but you can see its shadows in there; its not a story of tragedy at every turn, instead a story of youth with all its ups and downs that slowly grinds down into tragedy at its end. Takahata is on the record about how he intentionally wanted to downplay the "nobility" of the children, which other narratives often impose, and show that on many days they had fun and enjoyed themselves. I always respected it for that level of realism, and even in Seita's valorization of his father's military commission you see a bit of this more direct valorization of war-writ-large, even if its not as explicit as this interview is.

#grave of the fireflies #anime archives

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onesemesterfilmstudentta · 4 months

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Film #9: Godzilla

I don't think I've seen a monster movie up until this point. After hearing about Godzilla so much, it was very interesting to see this film! I am probably more familiar with horror movies where the rule is to avoid showing the 'monster' too much and to keep things suspenseful instead. That's why I was so surprised that Godzilla was actually shown full body and moving and that every scene it is in is honestly terrifying.

First though, I appreciate the tension set up at the beginning of the movie. The strange flash of light in the water, the scattering of the Coast Guard on their boat as the camera captures an upended table of cards and a fallen violin, the violent "typhoon" that slowly devastates the house and kills the last survivor from the boats, the team of researchers quietly exploring the ruined town and stumbling upon a gigantic footprint. Godzilla actually appearing seemed silly at first but the sound effect of his roars and his footsteps was actually terrifying. I do not think this reveal would have been so dramatic if Otherwise, the characters mentioning the war so many times as well as actual scenes appearing so much like what shelters for the wounded and fleeing may have looked like was hard to miss. That scene of the seriously wounded mother being carried away reminded me too much of the protagonists' dead mother in Grave of the Fireflies. I've heard Godzilla as a franchise decries the devastation of nature in pursuit of industry and now I know it also decries science in the pursuit of war.

I would have liked to know what the professor would have proposed to do in order to study Godzilla. He does have an interesting idea and this seems to have been the "good" path if Japan (and the rest of the first world nations really) had not been riding off the 'military for self defense' fear. Serizawa had wanted to discover a kinder, better use for the Oxygen Destroyer that wasn't purely destruction. Being his student, I would not be surprised if the professor was also aiming for the continuation of life through long-term study of Godzilla's resistance to radiation. It gives the implication that focusing on self-defense is not the aim of science but the real aim is to ensure health and safety for humanity. In other words, studying Godzilla might have removed the issue of radiation created by people in the first place.

I also have to say it's a little sad to think Godzilla is just as much a creature angered by all the lights and being attacked while just looking for food as it is a monster that wrecks devastation on humanity. Not the greatest comparison but I get the same sob-story feeling as the ghost girl from Ugetsu Monogatari.

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dickarchivist · 5 months

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I'LL COME BACK WITH A BETTER QUESTION (hopefully) BUT before I forget 🤣

This is a question for any and all that are willing to answer 👀

What...?!

Is their favourite Ghibli movie????

and do they wanna snuggle up and watch it with me? 🤣

I love Ghibli and I thought it was a cute thing to ask (｡>//﹏//<｡) (maybe I'll think of something more adult and spicy next time)

okay bye bye 😘💜💜💜

Ghost: oh! This one is rather easy, it's-

Phantom, excitedly: HOWL'S MOVING CASTLE!! That's the best one! It's the best!

Wraith: Athena and I like-

Phantom: it's got everything! Magic, action, A DOG!! And Howl????? He's me! Cool, suave, capable, gets all the ladies~

Banshee, rolling his eyes, smiling at his brother: Insecure, obnoxious, has too much stuff, has a hard time being genuine. I like Totoro the best, by the way.

Phantom: okay big guy but the way Howl turns into a B--

Specter, covering Phantom's mouth: shut up, you've said enough. We get it, you have a hard on for Howl's Moving Castle. Castle in the Sky is my favorite.

Dax'Malkin: I like Kiki's Delivery Service. It's a good reminder that taking breaks can actually improve your work. You cannot serve from an empty vessel after all.

Athena, loudly: WRAITH AND I LIKE PONYO!!!! Ugh! Tommy you're so rude sometimes!

Ghost: ... I like The Cat Returns, if anyone is still listening.

Stone: No one listens to you, Ghostie Boy. I'm a fan of Grave of The Fireflies.

#from the archivist #grave squad clones #clone oc banshee #clone oc ghost #clone oc specter #clone oc phantom #clone oc Wraith #clone oc stone #jedi oc athena bello #jedi oc dax'malkin #asks for grave squad #take it to the grave nye 2023

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reallyromealone · 5 months

Note

YES PLEASE I WOULD LOVE TO SEE UR POEMS

-🕷️ anon

I couldn't pick one so here are like a bunch--

I'm very bad at deciding quq

Endless seas rapture my mind

Pulling and seeking the fireflies of hope

That lift me to the heavens

In an endless cacophony of bells and whistles.

Sweet velvet skies and honey golden glows,

My grave though cold and my eyes unmoving

May my heart remain warm and loving

As those before and after my wake.

Death so shallow yet bold,

It's tender kisses through the night

Remind me that my heart had grown cold,

Wavering with reminders of growing old

Like flowers of autumn,

My soul becomes withered,

Unable to hold.

May my weary heart lay,

Hopeful and kind as daisies tangle and snare

My honest corpse.

The weeds and insects harvest and thrive

Over my own demise.

Oh softly the wind blows

Over the calm ticks in my minds eyes.

Secret sirens ushering the weak willed

And the filthy to a forgotten Neverland.

Though my mind is man

My body is woman

I share experiences with those whom

I hold no connection with

Other than the red blood

Of mother earth

Though my body is woman

My mind is man

I will take these values

Given to me by the women

Oh strong and free

And thrust it upon all

Who cannot see

Though my mother's and father's long before me

Exist not in my mind but in my heart and blood,

I strive to become the person they fought to become.

Clear the roadblocks and the broken dams as I become the favorite version of myself.

Filled with love and trust.

As Pandora's box I will have nothing left but hope to become one that others look fondly to.

It's my one right.

Oh how beautiful the sun,

Hiding our sins but showing our shadows.

Though every ray warm and bright,

It reveals the ugly and the dangerous.

We cannot hide our foul nature nor our pride,

Under the unyeilding light.

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aevyk-ing · 6 months

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Rambling about the Ghibli movies I’ve seen Part 2

Read part 1 here.

11. Tales of Earthsea

This one was... weird? Just boring? I really liked the designs for the mosaics and the city, but the rest needed a lot of work. I was intrigued about the main character and found myself thinking how the books are probably better. I had some problems with the character designs and the story was all over the place.

12. Only Yesterday

A little too long, dragging in the middle, but really cute. I loved the way it depicted the country life, the softness of the scenes in the past and the fantasy bits. I also have the feeling I should live somewhere else since I was little (I love nature and forests) and I’ve been remembering a lot of stuff (well, that’s a side effect of going to therapy, I guess). Anyway, I enjoyed the little story and the way some moments were animated and I wasn’t expecting to hear castanets in a Ghibli movie.

13. Porco Rosso

Em... this one was pretty, but the story was weird. The scenery, music and flight scenes are really good. I was interested in the transformation part, but then it started saying things like: “Sorry only women are going to build the plane.” and then making a 17 years-old fell in love with a 36 years-old. Yikes. Just yikes. Then the ending is rushed. Started out good, ended up... meh.

14. When Marnie Was There

I really liked this one. The story got me hooked, I related a lot to the main character and everything was so beautiful (just look at that house!). It can be a little confusing sometimes, especially during the middle part, but once it starts explaining things... oh, boy. My only complain is that I only knew it was the story about two girls and, once Anna started blushing I started shipping them... SPOILER it didn’t end up well.

15. The Wind Rises

So beautiful... and also sad. Miyazaki sure loves aeroplanes and that sort of stuff, huh? But I can’t complain: his flying sequences are always amazing. I also really liked the cinematography in this one, there’s a lot of interesting angles and uses of animation. It can also be funny sometimes (I still think that German guy ate a decorative plant) and I’m glad it didn’t dwell too much in the sad parts, even though I would have liked to see a little more after Nahoko leaves and before the dream sequence. Talking about dream sequences, that’s yet another thing Miyazaki excels at. BTW, I was ready for the sad ending, but still got me.

16. The Cat Returns

Utterly bizarre at the beginning, took an interesting turn midway where it reminded me of morning cartoons. It’s a cute story, although I’d have preferred something a little deeper or more nuanced. But it’s nice. Not the best one but fine enough for spending some free time. And yes, I’m well aware this one was made for small kids (maybe it’s the only one so far). Also, didn’t like how they teased out that Haru and the Baron are in a relationship. I still ship him with the other cat statue from A Whisper of the Heart, thank you.

17. Grave of the Fireflies

There are some movies you can just watch once... but even though, you’re glad you watched them. This movie was a ride and I was getting ready mentally to watch it, thinking that I could never find the perfect moment. However, something happened that hurt my soul so I was at the right place. It was painful, with exquisite music, but it hurt a lot. Just like Life is Beautiful... I won’t be rewatching soon... but I’ll thank it for what it is.

18. The Boy and the Heron

Proof that we still need fairytales! Have to say it was strange to go from the last movie to the beginning of this one because SPOILERS, I immediately knew what was going on. I loved the take on trauma and mixing past and present in a fantasy world that also looked an awful lot like a limbo (thanks, Over the Garden Wall). Overall, while it reminded me of other stories, it had enough heart and stuff going on to keep you hooked. You can tell it’s the result of a lifetime telling stories and my only complain is the creepiness. It was the least thing I liked from Chihiro and while I get why it has to be done, it doesn’t make it less disturbing.

19. Tale of Princess Kaguya

(disgruntled noises) I loved the first part. Cute animation, interesting style and adorable characters. I was having such a great time. Cut to the palace bit and the escape after the party and the story starts dragging on and totally changes genres. It went from fluffy and uplifting to depressing and sad. Why? Just why? If I had seen this movie when I was a kid, I would have never wanted to watch it again. Sigh.

#ghibli #ramblings #me #personal #studio ghibli #tales of earthsea #only yesterday #porco rosso #when marnie was there #the wind rises #the car returns #grave of the fireflies #the boy and the heron #tale of princess kaguya

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viking-raider · 2 years

Text

Afterlife *One-Shot*

Summary: Clark becomes aware of his own death, in the aftermath of his battle with Doomsday, while you grieve for him.

Pairing: Clark Kent (Superman)/Reader

Word Count: 6.6k

Warning: G - Angst, Trauma, Mention of Death and the Great Beyond, Greiving, Depression, Fighting, Alien Technology, Light Amnesia, HEA

Inspiration: I had this headcanon after watching Batman v Superman.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy it! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’

The first thing Clark remembered, after Doomsday stabbed him through the heart, was emptiness. It was quiet, dark and empty. He couldn't pinpoint where he was in the universe or if he even was in the universe anymore.

His next thought was for you, you had been in downtown Metropolis, while he, Bruce and Diana fought Doomsday. He had to save you, when you went for the Kryptonite spear. He recalled telling you that you were his world, that he loved you, before taking the spear himself and flying off towards the monster, impaling Doomsday through the chest with it.

Had I killed it, before it killed me? Is she safe now?

It became abundantly apparent to Clark that he was dead. There was no other way around it.

If it were anything else, he likely would have recovered by now, however long by now it was. He was inhabiting some state of being, aware and conscious of himself, and could only answer it by him being a Kryptonian. He wondered if this was a natural Kryptonian occurrence, once their body died, that their consciousness lived on for some sort of duration or perhaps his body was still intact enough and his body's refusal to decay allowed him to be mentally aware, while still dead, somehow.

It truly baffled him.

Is Zod in a similar state? Are my biological parents? Is there a way for me to reach out to them?

He let himself go quiet and listened for anything that might potentially be moving or making a sound around him, he remained that way for a long time, hoping for any semblance of contact in the space beyond, but heard and felt nothing, other than himself.

Finding no reason in returning to the surface of his consciousness, Clark receded further inside of it, the quiet outside was only a tortured reminder of the loneliness and his death, of being without you and the pain he knew he left you in. The life the two of you would now never have the pleasure of living.

At least, she gets to live, then my death was well worth it. He thought, before finally falling silent.

“It's been a month.”

Martha pointed out, as she found you sitting on the pouch, staring off in the direction of the graveyard. “You haven't been to his grave since we buried him.” She said, holding a steaming cup of tea out to you, before taking up the spot on the porch swing beside you.

You opened your mouth, but the words jumbled into your throat, like a traffic jam. Shaking your head, you took a sip of the tea and washed the tangled words down, before finally managing to speak. “I don't have the courage or the bravery.” You whispered, biting your bottom lip against a fresh onslaught of tears that threatened you. “I could walk into a war zone, into a pack of rabid protesters and stare down the most decorated and brazen, four star Generals, to get a story.”

“But I have to use the back road to drive onto a farm I'm more familiar with than my laptop, just so I can avoid seeing that graveyard, or I'll end up losing myself.”

Martha pressed her lips together and rested her hand between your shoulder blades. “It took me a week to walk halfway down there, after Jonathan died, and then three days to finish the other half.” She confessed to you, sighing softly. “I thought I was going to cry, like a newborn baby, when I finally made it to his headstone.”

“But, I didn't.”

“What did you do?” You asked, looking at her.

“I was finally able to tell him all the things I wanted to tell him, but couldn't at his wake, since it was all still too raw and new.” She admitted, gently rubbing your back. “If it takes you a month to walk down there, or longer, we both know there are still things you need to tell Clark, so you can heal.” She told you, leaning in to kiss your hair, then stood and went back inside.

You let out an unsteady breath and stared down at your cooling cup, you missed Clark, like you were missing one of your body parts. You had become a shadow of yourself, you had only returned Metropolis for a few days in the month after he died, to grab some of your belongings from the apartment you shared with him. But staying there was too hard, seeing his things around the apartment and sleeping in the bed you had shared with him, and seeing the construction being done to rebuild the parts of the city destroyed by Doomsday, was just too much of a reminder, things were still going on, even when your life had stopped.

So, you took Martha's offer to stay at the farm with her.

It wasn't as hard being in the place where Clark was raised, and buried. You didn't see him as Superman, where in the Metropolis, all you saw were the flying black and silver symbols of Hope and people mourning their superhero and god. On that small Kansas farm, you saw his life, you saw Clark Joseph Kent; the son, reporter and fiance that just happened to be an extraordinary and more unique being than most people on Earth. The Kent Farm was the solid foundation you needed in the wake of his death and you weren't sure you'd be able to set foot off of it again, without your life falling apart. Even though you knew Clark would be upset with you, understanding, but upset that you were allowing your life to spin to a halt.

But Clark had been your world too.

You took a deep, fortifying sip of your tea and stood up, setting the cup on the porch rail and walked down the front steps, the gravel leading up the driveway to the house crunched under your feet. “Oh god, it took your mother a week to make it halfway there, might take me two weeks just to get farther than the porch steps.” You huffed, smirking and shaking your head. “Look at me, talking to you again, like you're here.” You scolded yourself, even though Martha and the therapist Perry made you talk to on the phone told you it was perfectly normal and part of a healing process.

“Hey, Dusty.” You sighed, leaning over to pat the fluffy Border Collie on the head. “Got any encouraging advice for me?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Maybe, if we lined up a bunch of juicy journalist leads along the way, I could just write one article at a time to his grave, hm? Might take a year, but I'll get there!” You laughed, straightening up and sighed again. “I bet if it was me in that grave, Clark would have built a house next to it, so he'd see me every day, and here I am, a month in.”

Squaring your shoulders and putting on your best expression, the one you usually used when one of your leads was being a hard-ass, you put your foot in front of you and did the same with the other and kept focusing on that, one foot in front of the other, in the direction of Clark. While trying to convince your panicking brain, you were just going out there to grab him from visiting his dad's grave, for lunch. You had done it several times before, you could do it again, minus the catch attached to it.

Before you knew it, you were standing at the edge of the graveyard, Dusty was trailing behind you a little ways. Your hands were trembling and sweating at your sides as you looked out over the sea of varying headstones. Even though you hadn't been here since Clark was buried, before they had even closed his grave, you knew exactly where to look. He had been laid to rest beside Jonathan, who you had visited several times. It put a small smile on your face, remembering the first time you had come to the farm with Clark, he had introduced you to his mother, then afterwards, he walked you down here to introduce you to his dad, saying even if he was gone, it didn't feel right not at least having the two of you meet in some capacity.

You had found it sweet, a tad cheesy, but all Clark, with what you would later coin as his Southern Kryptonian charm.

“It only took a day for me to make it this far, Clark.” You said, biting your lip and rubbing your hands on the thigh of your jeans, standing at the edge of gravel and lush, emerald green grass, his grave just in view with the brown granite headstone, just like his father's, you noticed the grass had grown in over him, seamlessly.

Your hands balled up and you moved a few steps closer, before stopping again, breathing hard and shaking a little bit. “Clark.” You mewled, chin quivering as you finally made the last couple of steps. “Clark, I miss you so much. I don't know how I'm supposed to go on without you here.” You sniffled, lowering yourself down, to sit cross legged in the grass, between his and his father's graves.

“Everything is so much duller, now that you're gone. I just don't--” You sighed and looked at the blue sky above you, picturing him hovering in it.

Clark became aware of a murmur that did belong with a sequence of memories he had been inhabiting and swam away from them.

He'd become innately skilled with his conscious surfing, flitting from one memory to another, mostly memories of you, a couple memories from before his dad died. He had been learning how to manipulate them to a degree, so they'd last a little longer. He was currently engrossing himself in reliving the night he proposed to you. He had flown the two of you to the farm, his mom had left the house to the two of you, staying with a friend for the night, to give you space. He had taken you on a walk through the corn field, just before sunset and as you both came out on the other side with a perfect view of the sun melting into the horizon, Clark got down on one knee and revealed the simple diamond and platinum band.

The murmur became more clear, the closer to the surface he got. It was the sound of your voice, calling out to him from somewhere outside his consciousness, that he could somehow still hear you from.

Clark, I miss you so much. Your voice was crystal clear, as if you were standing right next to him.

I'm right here! Clark tried yelling back.

I don't know how I'm supposed to go on without you here. You cried, your voice weakening. Everything is so much duller, now that you're gone. I just don't see the world like I used to. I can't find the point or the center of a story anymore. I keep waiting for Perry to call me, to tell me the Bosses have fired me, since I haven't been into work in the month you've been gone.

A month.

If Clark's nervous system worked, he would have jerked with surprise.

I've been dead for a month! Oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry. You can't even hear me.

I'm sorry, it took me so long to come see you, after the funeral. A whole month. But I do talk to you, I feel absolutely insane and like I should hand myself in to the Metropolis Asylum or something. But your mom says, she still talks to your dad, to this day. So, that's comforting. She's the most sane and wonderful woman I've ever met. She's the only real rock I've had, since—you know. You sighed, twisting blades of grass between your fingers. Other than Dusty. You added with a weak chuckle.

At least, you still have Ma, and Dusty. Clark took some consolation in that. I hope she's holding up well. But if you're visiting her regularly, then I'm sure the two of you are being strong for each other. I wish there was a way for me to come back to you both. To go back and try something different. But, at least you and Ma are safe.

I promise to visit you more. I'll come back before bedtime and say good-night to you. You promised, softly. Now, I know I'm actually strong enough to make it down here, without turning into a pathetic mess of a human being. You chuckled, smirking. There's a joke for you, Kryptonian.

Very funny. Clark quipped, before growing somber. Wish you knew I could hear you. That you could hear me too.

I love you, Clark. You cooed, finding a little more strength to place a gentle kiss to the cold stone of his grave marker.

I love you too, babe. I love you too.

You starting to regularly visit Clark's grave began to give him a general sense of time. You always visited him after breakfast in the mornings, telling him about how you slept, describing the dream you had, which usually always involved him in some way.

He learned quickly, you had a recurring nightmare about the day he died, but you had only spoken at length about it once, as if his grave and consciousness were the only things you could unburden yourself of it too. Which wasn't wrong. You hadn't told anyone about the night terror. You were sure Martha had an idea about it, mother's intuition and the several times you'd woken her up screaming Clark's name, but she never pressed you for it.

After that though, you just referred to it as that dream, before moving on again.

After an hour or two, you'd leave his graveside for several hours, to try and get some journalism done with the stories Perry had sent your way via emails and such, he was being extremely understanding and accommodating. But you knew that was going to run out soon enough. You'd either go back down to Clark again around lunch time or for a break. Going on and on about the piece you were trying to write for the Planet. Clark, even in the grave, would out of habit throw in his suggestions on ideas you could use, possible ways you could look for leads or just his loving encouragement, before catching himself.

But you always came down before you went to bed to say good night to him.

“All right, Super-Boy.” You sighed, stopping beside Clark's grave, your feet bare and wearing a pair of Jack Skellington pajama bottoms and Clark's old Smallville High School t-shirt. “It's bedtime. So, I've come to say good-night and don't let earthworms bite.” You chuckled, even with the smallest twinge in your stomach.

Even dead, you still make fun of me. Clark remarked, entertained. If I ever get out of this box, I'll tickle you mercilessly.

“I love you, Clark. I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well.” You said, keeping to your ritual of kissing his headstone and walked back to the house.

With you gone, Clark began filling the time with memories, until he sensed something, that wasn't you. He couldn't put a name on what it was, he knew what you felt like. Even dead, Clark understood your approach and presence, it called out through his consciousness and it had pulled him to you through the world and cosmos, when he was alive. This felt as Alien like he was, strange and strong, and right on top of him.

Beyond that feeling, this presence, he heard nothing else.

The next morning, you were coming down the stairs and heading towards the kitchen, when you stopped dead in your tracks, hearing a familiar voice coming from that direction; one you hadn't heard in three months, since Doomsday and Clark's death. Panic bubbled into your chest as you slowly approached the kitchen door and saw, none other than, Bruce Wayne sitting at the kitchen island with Martha, enjoying a cup of coffee with her.

“Oh, you're awake!” Martha started, spotting you. “This young man,” She smiled, touching Bruce's shoulder. “was a friend of Clark's and wanted to come see how you were doing.” She explained, but saw the look on your face and quickly slipped off her stool and rushed over to you. “Honey, what's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost.”

“You can say that.” You rasped, wide eyes still on Bruce with shock.

“That's my fault.” Bruce said, setting his mug down. “I should have called you first to see if it was all right I came by.”

“You think?” You huffed, eye twitching a little bit, before you looked at Martha. “Do you mind if I speak to him, for a moment?” You asked, keeping the edge out of your voice.

Martha got the hint and nodded, made a polite gesture to Bruce, then went upstairs, to give you both privacy.

“What the hell are you doing here, Bruce!” You barked, starting towards him, anger flaring in your eyes.

“Well, I came to check on you and Martha.” Bruce replied, a tad surprised at your reaction, but didn't move off his seat. “I know you haven't been back to the Daily Planet, or even the Metropolis in the three months Clark's been--”

“Don't you dare.” You hissed him, snapping your fingers and sticking your index finger in his face. “Part of why my fiance is dead is because of you, Bruce Wayne. You were hell bent on making him some monster that wanted to burn the world to the ground. When all Clark wanted to do was be a reporter, plan our wedding and bring Hope to people, when they needed it!” You growled at him, tears beginning to stream down your face. “But instead, you both let Lex Luther manipulate you into fighting. Maybe that's why the word starts with man. I don't know. But you had a hand in taking him away from me.” You seethed, before slapping him across the face, though it hurt you more than it hurt him, it felt good.

“I'll never forgive you for that!” You huffed, finally turning on your heels and storming out of the kitchen.

“Even if I could bring him back!” Bruce called back out to you.

You froze on the steps going upstairs, part of you said to keep going back to Clark's old room, the one you had taken over, that Bruce was just baiting you back into the kitchen to talk. But the part of you that knew Bruce, knew he didn't mince words or promises.

“Shit.” You mumbled under your breath, turning around and heading into the kitchen again. “If you're lying to me, I'll expose your ass as Batman before you can get off this property.” You told him, coldly.

“I'm not.” Bruce said, ambiguously, picking up the coffee pot Martha had set on a pot holder in the middle of the island and poured some into the cup she had clearly set out for when you came down to join them. “Coffee? I know how cranky you are, before your first sip in the mornings.” He smirked, holding it out to you.

“Don't act chummy with me, Wayne. Just talk.” You told him, taking the cup from him and walking out onto the front porch, spotting Bruce's ultra expensive car in the driveway with your car and Martha's truck.

Bruce followed you onto the porch. “We, my team and I, found a way to bring Clark back.” He said, standing beside you.

“Oh, more Kryptonian technology?” You asked, sipping your coffee, trying to scold your hopes from coming up.

“No, it's some form of Alien technology, we're not exactly sure what kind, but...” He paused, looking down at his feet for a second, considering how much he should tell you. “Take a walk with me.” He said, stepping off the porch, before looking back at you.

“It's nothing chummy.” He reassured you, before moving forward.

Sighing, you caught up to him and waited for him to continue.

“One of my team members was in a horrible car crash, nearly died—should have died, his body was maimed, almost beyond recognition.” Bruce began to explain to you, slowly walking towards the graveyard. “His father was a top scientist for the Department of Defense, he used this Alien Technology, a Box, to put his son back together again. I have a theory that with the Kryptonian Ship, where Lex made Doomsday, in the regeneration chamber, and this box, we would be able to revive Clark.” He finished, just as the two of you reached the graveyard.

“Dear God!” You gasped, your cup slipping out of your hand and broke on the gravel at your feet. “What have you done!?” You demanded, seeing the gaping hole where Clark should have been buried. “Bruce!” You yelled, punching him in the arm. “Where—Did you just take Clark's body without asking his mother and I?”

“I did.” He nodded, unapologetic. “We need him—alive.”

You glared up at him, and finally saw it. “No.” You shook your head at him. “You don't need Clark alive. You need Superman alive. You don't give a fuck about Clark, you never have!” You growled, burning with anger.

“You're wrong!” Bruce snapped, jerking slightly towards you, spooking you. “You're wrong.” He said softer, pulling himself together again, not meaning to scare you. “I know going after him was wrong and I regret that decision every single day. I blame myself for his death. I don't need you or anyone else blaming or reminding me of it, I do it already. But, as much as my team and the world needs Superman, they need Clark Kent more. You are right, he gave this world Hope, but he also gave this world more than just Hope.”

“There's something coming, and without him alive, we won't survive it.”

“Then, why are you here and not wherever you need to be, to bring him back?” You asked, sighing heavily.

“Because, we have all the components.” He answered, looking down at you with a soft smirk. “But, we don't have Clark Kent's key.”

“Key? You mean, the Command Key?” You frowned up at him, shaking your head. “We lost that, when we fought Zod.”

“No.” Bruce laughed, resting his hand on your shoulder. “You are Clark's key. I need you to come back to Metropolis with me. We don't know what's going to happen, when we use the Box to revive Clark, but something told me you were the key. So, I need you to be my secret weapon, should anything happen. Besides, if I know anything about Clark Kent, you'll be the first person he'll want to see, when he comes back to the world of the living, and I can't deny the Kryptonian that.”

“When do we leave?” You asked, with no hesitation.

“As soon as you're dressed.” Bruce laughed, looking you over, still in your pajamas. “I'll get you some breakfast on the way there.” He added, heading back to the house with you. “But, don't mention the Clark thing to Martha.” He whispered as you walked up the porch steps.

You shot him a look, that asked, who do you think I am?

“Martha!” You called out, heading upstairs to change.

“Is everything all right?” She called back, coming out of her room.

“Everything's fine.” You reassured her, resting your hand on her arm. “But I need to return to Metropolis with Bruce.” You told her, feeling a small part of you needed to tell her of the possibility, however small or big, about bringing Clark back, she was his mother, she deserved to know, but you also didn't want to get her hopes up either. “I won't be gone long, he has a lead on one of the articles I'm trying to write.”

“The privileges of a Billionaire PlayBoy.” You said, chuckling and rolling your eyes.

Martha studied you for a long moment, before smiling and nodding her head. “All right, you both be safe then!” She said, hugging you tight.

“I promise.” You replied, hugging her back, but had that reporter's tingle that she knew something more was going on, but wasn't saying anything about it. “I'll see you, hopefully tomorrow or the next day.” You promised, letting go of her and heading off to get changed, then met Bruce at his car and sped off to where his jet was parked.

“I really hope this works, Bruce.” You whispered, settling in your seat on the plane. “I miss him. I miss him so much.”

“I do too.” Bruce replied, sitting across from you.

“Just stay here with Alfred, when we're ready for you, he'll bring you to us.” Bruce explained as he sat beside you in the back seat of one of his luxury cars, Alfred at the wheel.

“All right.” You nodded, nervous and impatient.

The flight from Kansas to Metropolis had been shorter than it would have been on a commercial airplane, but it mentally felt longer, thanks to you tossing the idea of Clark potentially coming back to life or not. You had no idea what you would do if it failed. You supposed it wouldn't actually change anything, he'd still be dead, you would just have to somehow explain the fresh dirt on his grave to Martha and anyone that visited it. You also had no idea what you would do if, and when, Clark came back to life. There would be explaining his reappearance to people.

You had thrown this scenario at Bruce during the flight and he had replied simply, witness protection.

You had considered that avenue, Clark had done some digging into the Batman and drew the eye of Lex Luther. So, using the Doomsday attack as the perfect timing to fake Clark's death to cool the heat from those two, even though Bruce was Batman, would make a damn good cover story.

“Would you like to listen to anything on the radio, madam?” Alfred asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“No, thank you, Alfred.” You replied, smiling kindly at him.

He nodded his head back at you, before turning to face forward again and went back to his newspaper. You pulled your phone out and scrolled through your photos, smiling at the pictures of you and Clark, not realizing you had chuckled out loud at a photo of the two of you covered in cake frosting, until noticing Alfred smirking at you through the rear-view mirror.

“Sorry, I was just looking at a photo of Clark and I at my last birthday.” You told him, turning your phone around to show him. “We ended up eating my cake plain, because we got into a frosting fight.”

Alfred chuckled, seeing the photo. “I truly hope Bruce can bring Master Kent back.” He said, softly.

“So, do I.” You sighed, looking back at the photo and running the tip of your finger over the image of Clark's chocolate covered, grinning face. “I'm so terribly lost without him.” You admitted, quietly.

The look on Alfred's face was soft, understanding and sympathetic, but you hadn't noticed, your attention had been drawn outside. You bent your head low to your chest with your eyes out the heavily tinted windshield, almost rolled into the back of your head just to look up at the object hovering in the sky.

“Oh, dear god.” You gasped, jaw hitting your chest. “Clark.” You mewled, voice creaking. “He did it. Bruce actually fucking did it.” You sighed, a smirk pulling across your lips, watching Clark move across the sky, away from the building Bruce had vanished into sometime before, and towards Hero's Park, where Superman's monument once was and now his shrine stood.

“I have to--” You started, grabbing the handle to your door, only to have the lock click shut on you. “Alfred!” You barked, head snapping to him.

“Mr. Wayne said he would call, when it was time for you to join him and Mr. Kent.” Alfred replied, calmly, his index finger still holding down the master lock button on the driver's door. “It's safer this way.”

“Safer? You think Clark would hurt me?” You asked, snorting at him and the notion of it.

“No, I don't, Miss.” He answered, tipping his head forward slightly, offering his silent apology for the apparent slight. “But, we don't know how Master Kent would react to being brought back to life, and until we do know, it's safer for all parties concerned, that he and the team assess the situation first.”

You bit your bottom lip and clenched your jaw, before straightening up in your seat with a sigh. “Fine. Clark would tell me the exact same thing.” You said, impatiently turning your phone in your hands. “In fact he has, many times.”

It wasn't ten minutes later that the sound of sirens filled the city air outside of the car, you weren't entirely surprised by the sound, it was the middle of Metropolis, if there wasn't at least one police siren going off every five minutes, then there was something truly wrong. But as time progressed, there were more and more sirens, and not just sirens, soon there were cop cars speeding by you and Alfred, lights blaring. You became uneasy, seeing them make it to the intersection up ahead and turn left, towards the park.

Soon, Military Humvees joined the cop cars and your unease and anxiety only increased. You couldn't see the Park from where you and Alfred sat in the car, but regardless, you knew things weren't going as planned. Gripping your phone in your left hand, you slowly crept your right hand up the side of your door, carefully eyeing Alfred as he watched all the cop cars, military personnel and civilians crowding into the streets to see what all the commotion was, until your fingers found the lock. Your heart stopped in your chest as you strained to unlock your door, freezing in place as it popped, but Alfred didn't react, his attention firmly focused on what was outside the car and not what was inside it, probably believing both of you were safe and sound.

With the door unlocked, you gripped the door handle and took a quiet, but deep breath, waiting for the perfect moment to pull it open and bolt out. It came a minute later, with the sound of a new police car ripping down the street. You yanked the door open and tore out of it, before Alfred could fully react, yelling out your name through the left open back door. You ignored him as you sprinted down the cracked and weed strewn sidewalk, your sneakers beating the pavement and shocking your legs with the impact, but you kept going, willing yourself faster.

You needed to get to Clark, to find out what was going on and why Bruce was taking so long to call in his secret weapon. You hardly looked both ways, before cutting across the street and around the corner towards Hero's Park. Just turning the corner onto the street the park was on, was a whole other world, there were cars and people everywhere, being pushed behind establishing lines, but you weren't about to let that deter you, you never had before for a story and you sure as hell wouldn't, if it meant getting to Clark. You stopped for a second and looked around, before spotting a small spot in the chain-link fence they put around the fence after the Doomsday fight and went for it, squeezing your body through it.

Getting through the fence, you found a small-scale battlefield. The three pillars that once stood behind Superman's statue had been smashed to bits, even more rubble and debris filled the space, with smashed Metropolis Police cars and a burning Humvee. You saw Diana laying on the ground by one of the shimmering pools, a kid in a red suit splayed out on the steps beside a larger, heavily tattooed man. You finally spotted Clark just past Diana, barefoot and shirtless, only wearing the shredded suit pants he had been buried in. His body was tense, the muscles of his back defined and his hands almost completely curled into fists as he strode intently towards someone just beyond him.

“Bruce.” You mumbled, spotting the Billionaire in his full Bat suit. “Oh, Christ.” You gasped, watching Clark rise up from the ground, just before he reached Bruce, a cold chill of fear rushed down your back, prickling your skin, you took off towards him.

“Stop, don't!” A half metal, half man yelled out, as you dashed by him, but you kept going, your eyes locked on Clark.

“He doesn't know who he is!” Diana tried to warn you.

“Clark!” You screamed out, coming to a halt as he blasted Bruce backwards into a parked police car behind him with his laser vision. “Clark, don't!” You cried, begging him, your heart giving way with relief, when you saw Bruce had managed to block the scorching light with his gauntlet, and was mostly unhurt.

Clark slowly turned towards you in the air, his ordinarily cerulean blue eyes lit up like molten steel made the breath in your throat freeze solid, but he didn't unleash his vision on you, not yet at least. He only cocked his head at you, clearly scanning and studying you.

You gulped thickly, not wanting to show him fear. “Clark, please.” You rasped, biting the inside of your cheek. “This isn't you.” You told him, daring to take a small step closer to him.

“Don't-” Bruce started to call out, but stopped, when Clark jerked a look at him over his shoulder.

“Just shut up, Bruce.” You growled between clenched teeth. “You wanted your secret weapon.” You hissed at him, then focused back on your fiance. “This is not who you are.” You said, steadying your voice and taking another step forward. “You are a good person, and he-” You pointed to Bruce, and took a deep breath. “Is your friend. He's an idiot, but he's still your friend.”

Bruce shot you a look, but didn't say anything.

“So, please, don't kill him or any of them.”

The bright, fiery-orange in Clark's eyes faded, revealing the eyes you had missed and loved so much, bringing a grin to your face and even more tears to your eyes, before he slowly lowered himself back to the ground. You reached out to him, your fingertips touching the warm, but cool skin of his shoulder and sighed softly, it was all real and not some insane dream.

“I know you.” Clark's deep voice rumbled.

You chuckled, sniffling. “I know you too.” You replied, looking up at him. “You are Clark Joseph Kent, the love of my life.” You whispered, feeling the world around you brighten again.

Clark cupped your face in his big hands, tenderly rubbing his thumbs underneath your eyes to wipe away your overflowing tears, before pulling you in tight against his body, wrapping his strong and solid arms around you, then took off into the skies, with a thunderous boom.

“What the hell was that?” Asked the tattooed male, as he helped Bruce up.

“My secret weapon.” Bruce replied, flexing his sore body.

Clark landed the both of you on the edge of the corn field he had proposed to you in.

“Home.” He whispered, looking out over the waist high stalks to the Kent Farm.

“You remember this?” You asked, looking up at him with your hand resting on the small of his back.

“I do.” He nodded, looking down at you and smiling. “It's starting to come back to me. I was really jumbled up back there, but seeing you kick started me again.” He confessed, cupping the side of your neck in his hand and leaning in to kiss you deeply.

You melted against him, wrapping your arms around his waist and returned his kiss, before pressing your forehead to the center of his chest and took a deep breath, inhaling his scent. “I missed you very much, Clark.” You mumbled, relaxing.

“I know you did.” He replied, nosing your hair and kissing the top of your head. “I heard you.”

“You what?” You squeaked, tipping your head back to look up at him, confused and caught off guard.

Clark smirked at you, brushing his fingers through your hair, reveling in being able to feel your tresses and skin again. “When you would visit my grave-” He licked his upper lip and cast his eyes in the direction of the cemetery. “I don't know how to explain it or how it worked, but I could hear you. I could still sense you too, when you were close enough to me. Everything you said, while I was—away—I heard it all. I know about your nightmare about my death and Doomsday, that you haven't been back to our apartment since it happened.”

“Clark-” Your mouth worked, but you didn't know what to say.

“It's crazy, I know.” He laughed, shaking his head. “At first, I was alone with myself and the memories I had of my life. It probably has something to do with my being Superman and Kryptonian. But, I want you to know, I heard all of it. You weren't really alone. I would answer you, even if you couldn't hear me. Which reminds me.” He said, dropping his hands to your sides and gave them a tickle, making you laugh and squirm.

“What was that for?!” You giggled, slapping at his hands.

“Making fun of the dead!” Clark chuckled back at you. “Don't let the earthworms bite! Really, babe?”

“We both know, I've always had a good deadpan humor.” You replied, winking at him, before scurrying away, so he couldn't tickle you again. “But I do find that oddly comforting, you being able to hear me.” You said, returning to him, but paused for a moment. “What was it like, being dead?”

Clark took a deep breath and let it out with a soft sigh. “It was--” He shook his head, then leveled his eyes at you. “It doesn't matter, I'm here with you again.” He said, pulling you against him for another kiss. “And, I'm not going back there again, for a very, very long time. I promise.”

“You better keep that promise, Kent, or so help me God!” You proclaimed, lifting a brow at him. “Now that I know you can hear me from the grave, I'll hound you day and night with the most god awful things I can think of and buy!” You threatened, jabbing a finger in his chest.

“If that's the case, I'll make sure to live to at least a hundred.” Clark smirked, closing his hand around yours and brought your fingers to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

“That's what I want to hear.” You smiled, pushed up on your toes and rubbed noses with him.

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