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Getting back into the swing of things, here’s a wip I’ve been sitting on
#wip#my art#who would’ve guessed that being hospitalized and taken off meds till my procedure would make you so lethargic#sorry if this posts twice I’m in the dead zone that is my work bathroom
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I like Tumblr, it feels more like a community on here than the other sites. I love y'all.
#insta feels like i have to put on a show to get attention and i dont got time to put in that effort#twitter is a dumpster fire. reddit is scary. discord is aight. artfol is dead. tiktok is a no no zone. and YouTube is#i dont make videos so thats also a no no zone. i dont have time to edit videos or be funny...i mean i am funny but i dont got time for video#if i dont got time to draw i dont got time to edit together a funnee video. i dont have to try so hard on here#i mean i do reblog my art like once or twice but thats the extent of my TRYING HARD#im happy to see the same 12-24 folks in my notes. you guys are the real ones. and its nice to know there are still 100+ of you lurking#maybe not actively lurking but still around. im just going thru it right now bfndjsj#social media is awful. content creation is too much. being an influencer is a joke. i like being me and being here#words
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i don’t really ship owain with anyone in either game he’s in but he’s such a good dad to ophelia that i can’t imagine him not having her, and i had the idea yesterday that it’s severa he approaches about wanting a kid bc after their time in fateslandia with inigo the three of them are bonded for life anyway and she’s the only one he trusts with something like that
#i hc that all the awakening kids go back to their own timeline eventually to salvage whatever’s left#since their grima is dead now too since they stupidly followed them back in time allowing themselves to die by robin’s hand#anyway i just adore the severa/owain -> selena/odin character development#bc they don’t even really like each other in awakening but by the time of fates they’ve become very good friends#odin really cares about her and selena sees his antics as more of a comfort than an annoyance; a constant she can count on#she doesn’t have quite as much growth with laslow#anyway ive been thinking about it since yesterday i love them a lot#also should clarify this is a no deeprealms zone and inigo and owain don’t have their kids until they get back to their own timeline#tactician's log#awakening#fates#owain fire emblem#severa fire emblem#jury’s still out on whether ophelia gets owain’s blonde hair cordelia’s red or frederick’s dark brown#(i love you ricken but your hair color doesn’t go super great with yellow)#she does call herself ‘crimson ophelia’ once or twice so the red might actually be fun!
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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
#emotional turmoil fans eating well lately#dodo art#dodo ocs#links may or may not be correct its 3am#this was a mistake i have to get up at 9#violence#edit ive fixed the stupid links TWICE NOW THEY BETTER BE RIGHT NOW#dodo comics#sweet beak bakery#deep sea dead zone
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A) Cute Pride stockings
B) Love that this is turning out to be one of those "played in the background for an hour on loop" videos like those 10 hour log in a fireplace streams
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tagged by @bawnjourno thank u friend!!!! 💖
last song i listened to: my baby's taking me home - sparks 🥴
three ships: hmm i dont ship much However. is there anything better than classic beejhawk. this next one started out as a joke but im genuinely invested in sam/niles. and last one ill go w is uhhh. you know what fine ill be basic and go with kirk/spock too
currently reading: the dead zone by stephen king!! it's so good i dont want to finish it :(
last movie i watched: 9 to 5 babeyyyyyy they own my heart <3
craving: everyday i mourn the loss of my beloved pesto toast that i used to have at the cafe... i may have to make it again myself. also craving warmer weather and SUMMER!!!! where i have some really fun things planned like vacations n concerts and a vacation just to see a concert :) and working on my film idea!!!! its all gonna happen!!
tagging @geddyqueer @emilynightshade89 @dubious-spaghetti @steviecopeland if y'all wanna do it!!! and anyone else who sees this and wants to give it a go
#idk who else wants to be tagged in these things anymore so just go for it!!!!#and yeah sorry my mash ass does go insane every now and again i just dont post abt it much gfjgmmg#i also havent finished the dead zone bc im lazy abt readin PLUS i know how sad the end is gonna be :(#and literally just watched 9 to 5 oh my heart.#youre crying from the end of 9 to 5?#the idea of a pleasant workplace and a livable wage got to me#alright#anyway and YEAH that fucken pesto toast was the shit. i may get my ingredients soon#and SUMMER IS GONNA RULE THIS YEAR!!!!! ILL BE LOSING MY MIND!!!#ill see spars (TWICE (god willing)) and see tmbg once !!!!!!#and when i see them in ca ill see them with my best friend of so many years who ill finally meet IN PERSON!!!#and THEN a little later its back to california to visit the land of disney with another friend. it will be wild#im so !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#anyway thank u again daley for tagging me 💖
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𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘
“𝐒𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭.”
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Prompt: Wolverine x kind reader x Deadpool
Warnings: suggestive, sexual jokes, spoilers (kinda? after the time stuff) injuries,
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮
You couldn’t remember the last time you talked with Wade, it’d been a while. Longer than normal. He’d come into your shop asking for sweets all the time it was nice talking to him he was pretty funny.
You met him after he basically saved you from a creep trying to attack you. After that he’d visit you at work getting a discount for saving you, you grown to like him a lot but it took a while for you to get out of your comfort zone.
With his very vulgar language, very….out there personality you grew close with him, Wade telling his friends about you any chance he got which lead to him introducing you to his friends making you insanely nervous.
The interaction was odd for them not you. There stared at you “…you’re Y/n?” A teenager with a long name asked, you nodded happily a friendly smile on your face. They glanced at you then at Wade then back at you “…if you were forced to be here blink twice”
You chuckled nervously but they seemed to be dead serious “I’m here on my own will, I promise” you clarified, Wade wrapped his arms around your shoulder “you think I forced her to be my friend! You hurt me” you glanced at him “will you kinda did-“ “alright let’s go meet Colossus!” He dragged you away from the moody teenager to continue to interact with his friends.
You thought back on the memory pouting missing your friend. You finished cleaning up your cafe about to leave when there was knock at the glass door, turning to look at it you saw a person standing their it looked like an older man.
You placed your bag down you grabbed your “baby knife” Wade gifted you, you didn’t like violence but after what happened last time you stayed out too late you slid it up your sleeve slowly unlocking and opening the door “hello do you need some help?” You asked.
The older man stumbled nodding “f-food please…” he almost fell onto you but you caught him “uh…um…okay just…just sit down please” you hummed carefully helping him sit down.
You went to get treats that no one had bought, usually you’d give that to Wade but he wasn’t here so you’d give it to the old man.
You turned to hand him the bag but he was standing up straight “um are you alright….sir?” Gripping onto the knife tighter you stepped closer to him, he chuckled lowly “to nice for your own good.” Before you knew it he jumped towards you.
You screamed in surprise pulling out your knife you stabbed him “ahh you bitch!” He fell back clutching him chest “I-I’m sorry!” You didn’t know what to do you felt bad for stabbing him but he was going to attack you.
He pulled the knife out standing up, bad choice you gulped knowing the outcome of this situation.
That night you went home with plenty of injuries and no money. Great. You had unlocked your front door going inside you flicked on the light “surprise! Welcome home honey bun-“ he froze in his spot.
He’d waited to surprise you when you got home. He thought you’d be in-static to see he was home from his thrilling mission and was going to tell you all about it but he was shocked to see you with a busted lip, black eye and bruises covering your face and arms.
“Oh my god what fuck!” He hurried up to you grabbing your shoulders “Wade nice to see you” you greeted, he was panicked but didn’t want to show it “how exactly can you see me? Looks like someone had a run in with Chris Brown, what happened” he joked.
You let out a dry chuckle “some jerk…I thought he needed…I thought he needed help but he was just trying to rob me. And he took my baby knife” Wade gasped “not the baby knife!”
As you went to get in the shower Wade clenched his fists “Honey bun I’ll be right back to tell you all about my adventure and the new friends I made!” He shouted into the bathroom earning a “alright” from you.
Leaving your house he went into his apartment slamming open his door gaining a odd look from the rest of the group.
Logan raised a brow “what’s your deal?” Wade grabbed his swords and guns “some tiny dick loser attacked my friend” Logan stared at him with his usual annoyed face “so?” Wade stopped at the door looking back “so? That girl is one of if not the nicest and hottest person on the planet and some dickwad attacked her!” He turned and left the apartment slamming the door.
“Who’s he talking about?” He asked Colossus got up “one of his close friends Y/n, she’s very important to him” he stated Logan was just confused but didn’t really care.
After a few hours Wade had returned dropping his weapons down at the floor “handled that, I feel so much better” he hummed, Logan glanced at him “you killed the guy didn’t you?” He asked. Wade smiled “yeah duh if you knew Honey hun like I knew her you’d do the same, well actually!” An idea popped into his head.
“Whatever your thinking. Don’t think it.” Wade laughed “oh come on you’ll love her! Not as much as the reader loves us but still” Logan looked at him confused “what?” “Oh come on peanut!”
“If I go will you shut the fuck up?” Wade smiled leaving the apartment “no promises!” Logan rolled his eyes and followed.
Wade knocked on the door “Honey bun! I’m back and I’ve brought a friend!” He continued to knock until the door opened revealing you now patched up and holding a ice pack up to your eye.
“Oh hi Wade, hello Wade’s friend” You smiled politely moving out of the way to let Wade and his friend in “I’m not his friend.” You shut the door “oh well what’s your name? I’m Y/n nice…nice to meet you” you greeted.
He stared down at you, he wasn’t to fond of physical contact and if he was touching someone it was usually stabbing punching slicing. But he grabbed your hand shaking it before letting go quickly “Logan.” He stated, You smiled at him “nice to meet you Logan- wait like Wolverine Logan!” You wanted to scream.
Wade watched as you hurried to your room, “she was a big fan of the X men Wolverine was her favorite you’d be surprised at the amount of edits she and probably the reader has saved on Tik tok”
Logan looked at Wade confused “you wouldn’t get it, I never had the guts to tell her he died. I mean look at her” you hurried out of your room holding an X men comic “if…if you don’t mind could you sign this…please…” you gulped nervously.
Wade leaned over “come on, look how excited she is, kinda like how I was seeing her naked for the first time” Logan scoffed “shut it. Look I’m not that Wolverine…” he huffed, that look of excitement faded from your face almost made him a little sad.
“Oh…wait I’m confused…” Wade held your shoulders “time to tell you all about my adventure!” He pushed you over to your couch.
After telling you about everything that happened you sat with a frown “so the Wolverine from our world is gone…” Wade nodded “yep but yaknow Hugh jackmen just couldn’t get enough of this roll so now he’s alive again.”
You glanced at Logan “so you’re still Wolverine…just from a different world…?” He nodded “that’s still so cool!” You stated excitedly, Logan looked at you a little surprised by how enthusiastic you were.
But he knew how this would turn out, he’s not gonna engage. You seemed like a sweet girl but he knows how this goes so he wasn’t going to even try.
“Yeah I’m not all that great.” He huffed, you lightly nudged him a playful tone “well you still saved the world, and you’re still cool to me” you hummed, Wade’s smile widened “Honey bun” he called out, you looked at him “you got any cookies?” You nodded “sure I’ll go get some.”
You got up leaving the two “see what did I tell you, she’s amazing!” Logan rolled his eyes “fuck off” he grumbled, Wade laughed “ha! You know I’m right! She’s perfect in literally every way!” Logan huffed crossing his arms.
You came back holding a plate of cookies Wade pulled you down onto his lap grabbing a cookie shoving it into his mouth.
You gulped “so um…can I….can I see your claws?” You asked nervously shuffling Wade held you still “no shuffling too much I haven’t got some in a while and the head downstairs misses you” you ignored his comment an stayed focused on Logan.
He held up his hand you lightly touched in between his knuckles feeling his claws under his skin “cool…” you muttered. He wouldn’t tell you but your reactions were somewhat cute.
He clenched his fist his claws coming out a cheesy grin grew on your face as you hit Wades arm “look, look” a small laugh exiting your mouth “trust me babe I’ve seen them and felt them inside me multiple times” Logan glared at him “don’t word it like that.”
Wade shoved another cookie in his mouth “don’t deny what we had!” You touched his blades “cool” he retracted them “well at least I can die happy” you joked.
Wade wrapped his arms around you squeezing you tightly “I won’t let that happen!”
Logan looked at you and how nice you were, maybe you weren’t so bad after all…
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A/n: I fucking loved Deadpool 3!!!! RAHHHHHHHHHHH
#deadpool x reader#wolverine x reader#logan howlett#wade wilson#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool 3#x men#wade wilson x reader#marvel x reader#james howlett#fem reader
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As promised some time ago: Gaz!
The new house is… well, you don’t dislike it. It’s beautiful, already renovated while you were busy selling the old house. Just new, unfamiliar. You’re unaccustomed to the noises it makes, the shadows it casts, the echoes off the walls.
You’re not too proud to admit (to yourself and your dogs) that you’re a bit of a chicken the first couple weeks. Too many nights watching spooky media about people living in walls or stalking new tenants — despite Skipper’s best efforts. So you keep one or more of the dogs with you at all times, fingers in their fur and lights on as you go. Ghost has been especially tolerant, leaning against your leg when the sun goes down and the house feels too strange.
You’ve always been grateful for the peace of mind that four huge wolf-dogs brings, but never more than now. With several sets of teeth surrounding your bed and guarding your locked doors, they’ve made the transition so much easier on your nerves.
The new forest behind the house is also some cause for concern. The first day you brought them home, you went out by yourself for quick inspection of the yard and immediate area. Sharp-eyed looking for glass, metal, or anything else dubious.
You came back to four extremely grumpy pups and were basically bullied out of leaving them alone again. Skipper was especially huffy that night.
But things feel like they’re beginning to settle. You’ve gotten a bigger couch, bigger floor cushions. There’s a second story to this new house — or more of a half-floor really. A loft? It consists of the master bedroom, master bathroom, and a sort of open-spaced landing that you’re using as a satellite collection zone for toys.
Sometimes, when you’re on the couch, you’ll catch a bit of movement and get spooked by one of the boys staring from the railing that overlooks the den. Have fussed at wagging Johnny twice now for it.
Still, the transition to your new home has been as smooth as you could ask for with four giant, protective dogs. You miss the old place a bit; have the irrational fear that you’re going to miss another displaced dog in need of a home, but you try not to think about it.
Maybe you should have thought about it a little more.
One evening, you let the boys out for their pre-bed potty. There’s a cup of chamomile tea in your hand, a blanket wrapped tight around your shoulders. Winter will be setting in soon. It’s already cold enough to set your teeth on edge. Never mind that it’s been raining all day, only just letting up to light patter at sunset.
Commotion at the edge of the (much larger) yard catches your attention. All of your boys seem to be gathered around something. They’re not barking or growling, and from the dim porch light, you don’t see hackles raised but still. Anything that catches their attention is worth investigating.
Cursing under your breath, you set your mug aside, slip into some shoes, and snatch up your phone for the flashlight. It’s only when you’re halfway there that you remember to pray that it’s not something dead. Or dying. Or creepy.
“Please don’t let this be a spooky doll or something,” you whisper to yourself.
Skipper must hear you, because his head pops up. He doesn’t… look concerned. But he’s a dog, how would he know that something in the yard is of human concern?
He trots away from their little congregation to meet you, almost like he’s escorting you to whatever they’re gathered around. You realize why when the flashlight illuminates a ball of soaked fur.
“Oh,” you breathe, “oh no…”
You gently nudge Konig aside to kneel down, a dry sob bubbling up in the back of your throat when you hear a quiet, miserable mew. A pair of brilliant green eyes squint and shy from the light, wide and sad.
“Oh, baby,” you coo. “Please come here. C’mon.”
You slowly, carefully extend a hand. Palm up, just a couple fingers. You’re not as familiar with cats anymore, but you remember enough to know that there‘ll be no scooping it up, even if it needs help. It’ll have to come to you of its own accord.
Relief floods you when you get the briefest cursory sniffle, and then the kitty is bumping its head against your hand for a scritch. You take a moment to pet what you can, heart breaking a bit with each shiver in the cold.
You keep coaxing it closer, gentle words and patient petting, getting bolder with your touch. When it’s finally close enough, the faintest purr rattling in its chest, you decide to try.
Apart from a nervous glance, the cat remarkably tolerant about letting you wrap your now-wet blanket around it, then scooping it up.
“Oof, you’re a big kid, huh?” You mutter, pausing to get a better hold. The darkness and hunkering down to preserve body heat was deceptive. This cat feels huge. “That’s alright, I’m used to it.”
You breathe a huge sigh when you enter the house again. It’s toasty inside — or at least it feels that way after sitting in the cold rain for fifteen minutes.
The boys files in after you, politely shaking off at the door before stepping into the mudroom. (Another upgrade you’ve been extremely grateful for.
You pause, try to get your bearings. You’ve got four soaked dogs, one possibly hypothermic cat, and you.
Christ, sometimes you wish you had an extra pair of hands.
“Okay. Let’s get the heater first.”
It’s already going, so you just turn it up a bit more, warm enough to start drying everyone. Then you go to the cupboard, sparing an arm from your oversized bundle to extract a towel.
You cross back to the heater and sit down, gently nestling your cat-burrito into the well of your legs.
The same big green eyes blink up at you, another mewl comes from it.
“Hi,” you croon, “isn’t that better already? Much warmer in here.”
You present the towel for inspection, let it sniff and decide it’s non-threatening before gently wiping it along the clumped fur. The dogs, to your surprise, don’t crowd to investigate. Skipper stops by to give the cat a sniff, before ultimately flopping down against your hip. But the other three arrange themselves around you, watching, but giving you and the kitty some space.
Remarkably thoughtful of them, and you tell them as much, praising their good behavior. The kitty, in the meantime, just… stares. It’s been a long time since you interacted with one, but you don’t remember your grandma’s tabby being so…
“Can I help you, little one?” You ask, grinning when it blinks at you slowly. You brush a finger under its chin, grinning when its eyes go half-lidded and nearly cross. “You’re worse than my Johnny boy with the staring.”
You receive a huff for that and laugh softly, making kissy noises at him until his tail thumps against the absorbent floor mat.
The cat is back to staring, though, ears up. You hum and keep up the half-scratching, half-drying technique until its fur starts to fluff up and you can take proper stock of the animal you’ve just rescued.
You weren’t kidding about it being big. Biggest cat you’ve ever seen — you’d almost think it was wild if not for the sweet face. You’re sure you might have seen the breed somewhere before…
Maine coon, maybe? Or… Siberian something or other? It’s fluffy, that’s for sure. But even without all the fluff that’s beginning to poof out like a dirty cotton ball, it’s a big cat. Big enough to be an average dog.
You huff in amusement that more it dries out.
“You look like a little storm cloud,” you giggle. “Well, little being relative.”
You receive a more normal-sounding meow for that. It thrills you that it’s already sounding better. Less sad, for sure.
The purring even start up again, developing into a deep hum like a running motor. It’s instantly soothing, the same way listening to the dogs’ breathing is. It lulls you until you’re nearly dozing sitting up. Only the wet nose of Skipper against your cheek rousing you.
“Jesus, right,” you say, jolting. Take a drowsy look around. All the boys seem dry or mostly dry. The only damp spot left on your new feline friend seems to be the feet, which won’t take much longer. “Let’s get inside proper.”
You lock up the mudroom and turn the heater low again, then urge everyone into the den. The cat doesn’t even hesitate, threading cleverly between your moving legs as you shuffle to the kitchen.
You prep an extra bowl of food and leave it up for the cat where the dogs can’t get it. Give it one last stroke from head to tail before trudging for the bathroom.
Normally, you’d be more concerned about leaving a cat in a house full of dogs. But the boys proved already that they have no interest in hurting the cat, despite the earlier crowding. Figure there are plenty of places to hide if they do make the kitty uncomfortable regardless.
The hot shower only serves to thicken the drowsiness blanketing you, leaving you heavy-lidded and sluggish. You pull the curtain aside to the usual audience of huge eyes, a new pair among them — the cat perched on the bathroom sink.
When you lean to grab your towel, they stick their face close for a sniff and you pause, always patient for curious creatures. When the little nose gets too close to your mouth, you twist and drop a quick peck to its snout before leaning back. The flabbergasted look makes you laugh as you begin toweling off.
“What a funny little thing you are,” you coo. “Would you like to be mind.”
“Mrrrow!”
“Yeah, I made a good first showing, huh?”
You have absolutely zero supplies for a cat, but that’s a problem for tomorrow. Right now, you just want to climb into bed and conk out. Home-making and animal-saving takes a lot out of you.
As always, the furry procession to your room leaves you warm and happy. Johnny always the first to hop into bed, licking your shoulder when you climb in beside him. Konig takes your other side, much more willing to snuggle now that you have the California King mattress to accommodate your pack. Ghost licks at Skipper’s chin in the doorway, then jumps up to lie by your hip, cuddling Johnny.
Skipper comes up last, padding over to receive one last kiss from you before lying by your feet, on the side closest to the door. You’re less concerned about kicking him now with the extra room, and enjoy the heat for your toes.
You almost startle at the soft thump next to your head. Turn and blink to see big green eyes blinking down at you, a purr nearly rattling your brain.
“Oh, hi,” you murmur, “make yourself at home.”
The cat does just that, curling himself onto a pillow and pressing his forehead into your neck. You nearly melt as you flick off the light. It’s warm and quiet and dark, just the breathing of warm bodies and soft tap of rain.
“I love you all so much,” you whisper, fingers threading into Konig’s coat. “My loves.”
The house’s new echoes are still unfamiliar, so it’s just a product of being half-asleep that makes you think you hear voices in the middle of the night.
Main Story | Price pt. 2
Masterlist
#cod#my writing#fanfiction#reader fic#1fur1#dog john mactavish#dog john price#dog konig#dog simon Riley#cat Kyle Garrick#woof woof au
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being in true sexyman nostalgia mode today (on account of. IT'S BEEN ONE YEAR BABY.) i think one of the most fascinating things about it is that we will never manage to do that again. like, not in a "we couldn't organize it better" way; there were better ways to do the spreadsheet, we would just turn off comments on posts and anon asks from day one so that we wouldn't then get people accusing us of censorship while we tried and failed to control the tide of things that ended up in the comments and inbox, we'd definitely have a WAY higher non-hermit contingent, both thanks to qsmp and thanks to the sexyman blog and medusa now having MUCH wider reach to other corners of the fandom and the original spread not all rooting at me, etc.
but the reason we couldn't do it again is that i don't know if we could ever replicate the exact circumstances that lead to it blowing up quite to the extent it blew up.
it was while tumblr polls and doing tumblr poll brackets on tumblr itself was still new-ish, and people were still excited about them. the idea of a mcytblr bracket was basically brand new; i won't claim we did it FIRST (because i have no idea if we did and doubt we did), but certainly we did it big first. so there's that; we can never again invent in real time "shit people are sending us threats about fraud lets legalize fraud because its funny, we can't stop it, and that neutralizes that drama as a thing anyone will take seriously", and then in turn accidentally invent a fandom culture of. um. wide-spread voter fraud.
(i don't know if we should apologize for, uh, causing the specific way mcytblr voter frauds. i still think it was better than the alternative at least, especially after seeing how so many other polls crashed and burned after us. there were MANY things we could have done better but i have seen SO MANY ways we could have done things worse since then so i think we came out looking pretty okay.)
but also: february 2023 was a very different time in mcytblr. we were in a hermitcraft dead period, where most of the hermits were either on vacation or playing tcg (which was fun, but didn't end up generating that much fandom activity by that time in february). the former dsmp crew was very much doing Nothing (and in that awkward space when the entire fandom knew dsmp 2 was never happening, but also people were still claiming it would happen, so it was just... busy waiting). qsmp didn't exist yet. there was no ongoing life series and wouldn't be for some time. i think even the dominioners and lifestealers were in a fairly dead zone. there was very little new for people to be excited about, mcyt content-wise.
enter: our poll. our poll which cleo then thinks its funny to call out on twitter. our poll, which was not only new mcyt content for the fandom to interact with (thanks to the fact we KEPT GETTING CC INTERACTIONS???), but participatory.
for about two weeks, we were the mcyt event de jour.
and like. the thing is. now we're in february 2024. mcyt is BOOMING. a new hermitcraft season JUST STARTED. we came off of vault hunters before that. meanwhile, qsmp just restarted and is, if i'm understanding correctly, booming. they just added a new guy! the two current juggernauts of the fandom are in FULL SWING. i honestly think we'd be somewhat overtaken by the fact things are actually happening in fandom. there's stuff to do that ISN'T go insane about a poll.
and it's not new, and we've seen it all before now, and frankly, it's hard to cause a mass hysteria event TWICE. lightning in a bottle, as they say.
i think part of the reason we all just REMEMBER mcytblr sexyman so much is that we could never, ever recreate it, so it remains crystalized in a single moment in time, impossible to replicate, forever memorable.
anyway: HAPPY ONE YEAR TO THE JOE HILLS SWEEP BABY,
#mcytblr sexyman#sorry i'm in nostalgia mode and feel like rambling. o7 happy one year to joe's victory
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Check Yes (to go on a date with a dead guy) chapter 5 progress
“Hey!” Duke hollered, as soon as Jason put the key in his door. “Welcome back, loser!”
Danny huffed out a laugh.
“Hey yourself,” Jason called out, holding the door open and making sure Danny got in before he closed it behind them. “Scruffy little brother, this is Danny. Danny, this is Duke.”
“Wait, what?” Duke skidded into the room on socked feet, eyes wide and mouth grinning in confused delight. “I didn't know you had any friends!”
“Oh, we're not friends,” Danny reassured him easily, missing Jason's scowl. “Just dating. So there's still no proof that he has friends.” He winked obnoxiously.
Jason could see the moment Duke shut down and rebooted twice as excited.
Christ. He quietly cursed to himself and ducked his head to hide the burning in his cheeks as Danny bounced over to hold his hand out. He was never beating the allegations of favoritism after this, Jason sighed.
Danny was a little sun spot when he chirped, “Nice to meet you, I hear you're the generous distributor of games?”
“Yeah, that request makes sooo much more sense now.” Duke met Danny's hand with a friendly slap and then went in for a hug. Jason cringed at the familiarity- but apparently it was the right move. Danny went for it, backslapping Duke amiably. They separated. Danny thoughtfully held Duke at a distance, hands on his shoulders.
“I see. So, you're my true opponent?” At Duke's nod, Danny smiled with a few too many teeth. He leaned in to hold intense eye contact. “Gonna kick your ass,” Danny vowed.
“You can try, old man,” Duke shot back. They separated with grins. “I’ll set up. Jason, your taste is so much better than I thought it would be.”
Jason made an offended noise. “Wait, what?”
Duke gestured at him with one lazy hand as he unlatched the top of his backpack and started withdrawing games. “I figured you would exclusively date super serious tough types.”
“... I'm tough,” Danny said morosely.
Jason resisted the urge to cackle. He didn't disbelieve it at all! Size wasn't everything. But the uh, the big baby eyes and slumping shoulders really weren't selling the toughness.
Duke shrugged, brutal and unconcerned with the damage he was leaving in his wake. “I was thinking more like a forensic accountant who collects rocks and cage fights literally just for the fitness benefits.”
Jason took a moment to consider that theoretical accountant. He would date that person. They sounded well rounded. It was a sensible career, a chill hobby, and a reasonably active lifestyle. What was wrong with that? He frowned to himself. What was Duke even implying??
“I would date that accountant,” Danny reluctantly admitted. He seemed disgruntled about it. “I don't cage fight, sorry to disappoint. You can't imagine how much my sister would kill me if I tried.”
“It's fine,” Jason reassured, making a mental note of a sister and the potential for quantifiable subsequent deaths. “Me either.”
He could, though. He thought about it for a moment. He'd kick so much ass. That would be a fun way to give Bruce a heart attack.
Duke snorted, but thankfully said nothing else. Jason didn't want to hear what Duke thought about his odds in cage fighting. Jason knew what was in his heart and that it was fighting potential.
The game Duke and Danny settled on was a multiplayer racing game. Jason dutifully tried. His car bounced along and beat out all but one of the computer's characters. He endured two rounds before he bowed out and leaned back to watch the other two trash talk each other.
Honestly, these games were repetitive and pretty boring. Jason zoned out and stretched. He was laying his arm along the back of the couch before he realized that was a bad idea.
He froze, forearm just barely brushing against the back of Danny's neck. Danny… didn't seem to care.
Well. Jason let his arm relax. It was only weird if Danny thought it was weird.
Duke glanced over out of the corner of his eye and gave Jason a cat-faced smirk. Jason raised his hand just enough to show off his favorite finger.
“Hey, gimme a min?” Duke said. “I need to use the bathroom.”
Liar. Sneaking liar, Jason thought fondly. He was going to try to spy and see what they did when he left the room.
Danny hit the pause button and let the controller drop to the sofa. “Yeah, go piss girl,” he drawled.
Jason cocked his head to the side in confusion.
Duke just laughed, so that must have been some kind of reference. He clambered over the back of the sofa and gave Danny's shoulders a light push on his way past.
Danny went with the motion and bumped into Jason with a giggle. Jason endured it patiently, bemused but enjoying that they were both happy.
The bathroom door shut behind Duke.
Danny leaned further into Jason and contorted his neck at a frankly precarious angle to look up at him. “Are you having fun?” He checked. Danny's ear brushed against Jason's chest in a way that he was hyper aware of. There was line of concern between his eyebrows that Jason kinda wanted to smooth away with a thumb.
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I Don't Want to be Great, I Wanna be Me.
So we all know the classic ‘JL meets Phantom through summoning’ prompt, and we usually get Danny “High King, Savior of Worlds, Eldritch, Cryptid, Ancient, No Shits Given, Chaos Gremlin” Fenton making an appearance, cool and confident, running circles around the JL. But what if, this High King they summoned, just… wasn’t.
The Justice League was prepared for anything, with the latest BBG threatening the world they had to take drastic measures. The JL Dark managed to scrounge up the summoning spell they… “liberated” from a cult group a couple months back. At first the JL was against the thought of summoning another highly powerful unknown, but with extensive research, Constantine and various others vouching for this so-called “King Phantom'' , and no option left, well, their hands were tied. Said to be the vanquisher of the previous Tyrant of the throne, Savior of the Infinite Realms, thousands of years old, infinitely powerful, infinitely old, and some smaller rumors claimed, infinitely kind. Phantom is said to be extremely protective of humans (something they were banking on), loyal to its subjects, and said to rarely get angry (yeah right). A terrifying creature, tall and confident in its destructive power.
So yes, the League was prepared. They gathered as many members as they could spare for this meeting, everyone ready for a fight, but praying for none. The Big Three stepped forward while the rest hung back. Constantine and the Dark members start chanting, beginning the ritual.
The chanting ends. The silence hangs. Bodies still.
Then, a flash from the hieroglyphs on the ground and an explosion of wind with no origin, a blinding light originating from the summoning circle grows in strength, letting out a vibrating hum that causes Superman to cover his ears and wince. The hum starts shaking the ground and the light condenses into itself, revealing the silhouette of an object.
The wind stops. The light is gone, the vibration a memory. Everything is as it is before, with one exception.
Wonder Woman, wasting no time, straightens, “High King Phantom, Ruler of the infinite Realms, We are the Justice league, We ask your help in vanquishing The BBG, it threatens the lives of all those who live…” Her eyes widened as what stood before her.
This… this didn’t look like a High King, Vanquisher of Pariah Dark. This little thing did not give any indication of confidence, power, or age… it looked… young. The only thing terrifying about this creature is the size of bags under his eyes. Drowning in soft clothes, hunched over, looking utterly defeated, Nothing like they expected. Diana would almost mistake it if for a human child if not for the glowing eyes, fangs, and slight aura it gave off. But this, this was no King… Is- are those tears in its eyes?!
____________
Danny has not been having a good day. Or week. Or month, or- anything really. It seems like dying was only the beginning of his problems. No, scratch that, this all started with his parents’ damn obsession with ghosts. Danny swore they were part ghost too with their utter infatuation with all things Ecto. If only they hadn’t tried to access the ghost zone, if only Vlad hadn’t been involved to become Danny’s biggest nightmare, if only his parents gave up their research once they had kids, if only he didn’t walk in that stupid portal to impress his friends.
If only he had stayed dead.
If only he didn’t gain powers, then he wouldn’t be stuck in this mess.
Danny scowled to himself and let himself flop onto his bed. He’s been spending the last couple weeks cycling through this whole rogue gallery, TWICE! Plus fighting a handful of random ghosts who thought they could take on the ‘Ghost King’ (Pariah’s evil reign and thousand year slumber didn’t help either with all the paperwork that’s left for Danny.) Running from the GIW, his parents, and Val as usual, (Ghost Scum,
Dealing with ‘Mayor’ Vlad’s Evil Plan of the Week -Danny’s powers were still on the fritz after that encounter, painful, was a word for it- Not to mention school, between Dash being Dash, forgetting his science homework, missing a test because of Skulker, Lancer and his threats of, “Black Beauty Fenton! If your grades keep dropping you’ll spend the rest of the year in detention! With ME!” and now his teachers (and Jazz) are talking to him about college? He’s still a sophomore, give him a break! It isn’t Danny’s fault the whole universe is apparently out to get him.
The real cherry on top of this whole thing was the recent ‘summonings’. No thanks to the Fruit Loop and his meddling, with Jack Fenton unknowingly helping him, again. A nice little instruction booklet called, “How to Summon the Ghost King, Made Easy!” got out onto the internet and the world, free for any psycho to speed dial Danny away from his life. At various points in the last month Danny has been forcibly -and if he was honest, painfully- ripped from anything he’s been doing and dumped smack dab into the center of various cults’ plans, usually they wanted power, money, or world domination. His saving grace was the process of summoning forced him to transform or no identity reveals, thank The Ancients.
Sam and Tucker have been a godsend in getting the Booklet wiped from the internet, Danny would be lost without them. He would’ve fallen apart the first week into his powers if not for them. Who knew watching your friend half dying created lasting relationships? They really kept him going and he trusts them with his life, really he does.
But Danny would never tell them about some of the things he’s seen getting summoned, he couldn’t do that to them. The various groups of psychos seemed to think Danny was more likely to listen to them if they offered sacrifices.. human sacrifices. Some nights he couldn’t stop smelling blood and incense, couldn’t get those images out of his mind. He hated himself for keeping track, and hated himself for not wanting to. 15. 15 people, so far just because some handful of lunatics wanted some money or something equally stupid like that. Danny was 15, that’s one whole human being, for every year he was alive, one of them was even younger th- she was just- Danny couldn’t- she was- so small…
Pulling his blankets over his head, Danny took measured breaths against the tightness in his throat. It’s Not fair. It’s not. He didn’t ask for this. He didn’t want to be King of the undead, he’s just a kid himself isn’t he? It was just an accident turning on the portal. He didn’t mean to. Why is he stuck fixing everything? Can't he just be a normal kid? Go to school, get good grades, become an astronaut? He’s so completely out of his depth, who is he kidding, it’s just a matter of time before he screws up again and someone gets hurt, or worse. He's trying, though, he is. He tries so hard to be good, to do good. To not turn into Dan.
‘Stop it, Danny. Now’s not the time for bad thoughts.’ This is the first time Danny’s had a chance to sleep in two days, his parents are out and left the home defenses are down, Jazz is studying at the library, Sam and Tucker are playing Doom while keeping an eye on ecto readings around town. He has maybe 4 blissful hours to spend in dream land. He sighed and sunk into his pillow trying to blank out his thoughts before he could spiral again.
A tightening in the chest, and eyes snap open, ‘NO! NO! Please not now!’ is all Danny manages to think before the unfortunately familiar sensation of space displacement takes hold. His transformation is forced on him as he feels himself fall apart and get put back together simultaneously.
‘Just a couple hours rest, is tHAT SO MUCH TO ASK!!??’ The anger leaves before it can fully form due to the pure exhaustion that washed over his ectofied bones and straight to his core. It feels strained, like glass under pressure, not knowing if the slightest change will shatter him. He slowly gets his bearings and- oh, this almost seems worse than a regular cult summoning. At least there’s not a dead body.
It’s the Justice League, and Wonder Woman is talking to him. And Danny, Danny can’t. He can’t. He doesn’t know if they want to trap him, kill him, experiment… if the GIW got their claws into the JL… Danny can’t anymore, He can practically feel his core splintering into jagged gut- wrecking pieces. He just wants to rest, to feel safe, for just a little while. Why can’t he?
Throat burning and eyes watering, Danny realizes he can do something, just one thing. It’s the only thing left that he can do. Something he hasn’t done for a long time, ever since dying.
Danny starts crying.
#danny phantom#danny fenton#dc#dp x dc#dpxdc#dc x dp#dcxdp#justice league#this was supposed to be a prompt#I don't know what happened#many thoughts no time#sad danny#danny needs a hug#and sleep#let him sleep#imagine the amount of paperwork created from a tyrant not doing shit and then sleeping for over a thousand years#yeah it would be a lot#danny needs an adult(TM)#Diana is totally enamored with this small warrior child#batman#frothing at the mouth with adoption papers planned#JL is just like#were are your parents?#Danny doesn't know how to tell them his parents are part of the problem#second ever post#no idea what i'm doing#headcannons#fanfic ideas#crossover#angst
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Decisions | Vinsmoke Sanji / Roronoa Zoro x reader
Summary: You and Sanji are friends. Just like you're friends with Zoro. When a misunderstanding pushes emotions to a boiling point, you're put on the spot to make a tough decision - who really is the man for you?
Word count: 1100
Warnings: none
A/n: this is going to be a choose-your-destiny type thing, where you can choose who you want to end up with! this first part is the prequel to that ~
you chose: Zoro , Sanji
Read on AO3
“Here, like this.”
Sanji took to standing behind you, wrapping his arms around you to place his hands on yours, guiding you through the proper motions to chop a carrot as evenly as he did. You couldn’t help but notice how his biceps flexed against your own, how he smelled of the bath he took this morning, the light caress of his breath on your neck. It was nearly overwhelming. You had to hyperfocus on the task in front of you so to not zone out and chop off a finger.
The carrots now chopped, Sanji’s excuse to wrap himself around you was gone. Reluctantly, he took a step back; you weren’t sure if the sudden coldness you were feeling was disappointment at his lack of proximity.
“Okay,” he started, his voice a little shaken; you wondered – was that because of you? “breakfast’s about as good as done. Do you want to call everyone in?”
“Sure,” you agreed, earning yourself one of Sanji’s beautiful, deep-dimpled smiles.
Gathering the crew for breakfast was rarely a hassle; you were often tasked with the mission after helping Sanji prep breakfast, and so, you already knew everyone’s routines and where to find them. Luffy was usually nearby the kitchen somewhere, ready to pounce on breakfast the moment Sanji permitted; Nami could be found on deck, drawing maps of where you’ve been; Usopp was a bit less predictable, but he’d usually find you as you were making the rounds. And then there was Zoro – which, you learned, was not a morning person.
While Sanji was up at the crack of dawn, already dressed to the nines and on his feet working in the kitchen, Zoro would sleep in until forced out of bed. They really were polar opposites.
This morning was no different; you knocked twice on Zoro’s door before letting yourself in. You smiled at the sight of his sleeping form, splayed across the bed, limbs tangled in his sheets – so unlike the proper way he held himself during his waking hours.
Perching yourself on the side of the bed, you lay a hand on Zoro’s shoulder. He opted to sleep on his stomach, and you couldn’t help but be appreciative of the sight of his muscular back, shaped by the hours of training he put in daily. “Zoro,” you called calmly, caressing his upper back in what you believed to be a friendly manner. “Hey, it’s time for breakfast.”
Zoro mumbled incoherently in to his pillow before shifting to throw an arm around you, his eyes still shut peacefully. “Zoro,” you laughed, being tilted on to him. “come on, it’s time to wake up.”
Finally, Zoro responded. “Mm. Sleep better.”
“Better than Sanji’s cooking?”
“Yes,” he deadpanned. You should have seen that coming. After a short pause, Zoro opened an eye, taking you in. “Did you cook?”
“I helped.”
“Fine.” With that, Zoro threw off the sheet that was covering him, hopping out of bed in surprising speed. While he’d usually sleep in trousers, last night was hotter than usual, and he seemed to opt against them today.
“Sorry,” you apologize, seeing Zoro in nothing but his boxers. You stood up to make your way out of the room when Zoro interjected, “What’s the rush? I’ll walk with you,” as he pulled on a pair of pants. He grabbed a button-up and followed you out of his room, threading an arm in to his shirt.
You stopped dead in your tracks as you came face to face with Usopp. You could see from the way he was looking at you two, just what he was thinking. You both were leaving his room quietly early in the morning, Zoro being half undressed. Usopp’s gaze jumped between you and Zoro, his mouth falling slightly open, trying to think of how to express himself.
Zoro, however, didn’t give him the opportunity. “Usopp.” Zoro greeted sternly. Zoro then placed a hand on your lower back, maneuvering you to keep walking, leaving a confused, suspicious Usopp behind.
Usopp was the last to join you all for breakfast. When he had finally arrived, the expression he wore was one of slight terror, or maybe just pure disbelief; a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the crew. Usopp took his place sitting opposite Nami, who wasn’t afraid to just ask – “Usopp. What’s up with your face?”
Usopp, reluctant to vocalize at this place and time, opted for giving Nami a wide-eyed look before raising his brows and shifting his eyeline between you and Zoro.
If that was meant to be a discreet message from himself to Nami, it failed, because even your oblivious captain had picked up on the cue – “What’s going on with y/n and Zoro?”
You could see Sanji tense visibly, his eyes growing wide. Zoro, however, seemed completely unbothered.
You could see the panic rise on Usopp before he blurted out, “Zoro and y/n are sleeping together!”
You, Luffy and Nami all shout – “What?!” to varying degrees of emotion. Strangely, Zoro doesn’t protest.
Then, a chair falls back to the floor. Sanji was on his feet, his hands fisted. You knew him well enough to know how mad he was just from the way he held himself.
“No.” Sanji said, his voice almost a growl. Slowly, he picked up his gaze from the floor to Zoro. “This… This is the one thing, I refuse to lose to you. I won’t let you have her.”
“Sit down, cook. This doesn’t regard you.” How Zoro could be so unbothered right now, you had no idea. Why wasn’t he clearing things up? Was he – was he okay with the others thinking you were together?
You could see Sanji flaring up – there was a fight about to break out, you were certain about it. “Sanji, I literally spent all morning with you.”
Instantly, Sanji’s rage melted away. Sanji made his way to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you to him. “That’s right. I shouldn’t be listening to this nonsense when I know I’m the first person you see when you wake up.”
Zoro’s brow twitched at that. “What are you saying, cook?”
Looking more smug than need be, Sanji replied, “What do you think, mosshead?”
“Enough with this already!” Nami yelled, far too tired with the duo’s one-upmanship. “You’re talking about a real person here, not a toy. Ever think to ask her how she feels, what she wants?”
“Yeah, y/n.” Zoro stood, and the look he was giving you could set you ablaze. Sanji’s arms around you tightened. “What do you want?”
you chose: Zoro , Sanji
#vinsmoke sanji#one piece sanji#one piece live action sanji#sanji x reader#sanji fanfic#sanji fanfiction#vinsmoke sanji x reader#one piece sanji imagine#one piece sanji x reader#one piece live action sanji x reader#opla!sanji x reader#roronoa zoro#zoro roronoa x reader#zoro roronoa x you#opla zoro#one piece live action zoro#roronoa zoro fanfic#zoro x reader#zoro roronoa
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You Like Me? - Matt Sturniolo
Pairings; bsf!Matt x bsf!Reader Summary; After Chris & Nick convince Matt to go to a party with them, he overdoes it and has to carried home. The night ends in a silly drunken confession. Wc; 1458 Warnings; Just a lil bit of fluff 🥰 A.n; This is my first imagine & third post. Check out my Matt & Chris hc!! All reactions are highly appreciated ❤️ Current Matt series - City of Love
"Chris, you have to hold him up," Nick complains to his brother. You guys were coming in from a fun night out, after finally convincing their introverted brother to tag along, with the help of yourself of course.
You fumbled with the key, trying to put it in the keyhole but failing once again.
"C'mon Y/n, this man is fucking dead weight back here," Chris groans. You look over your shoulder to see a flustered, yet aggravated expression etched across his face. Poor guy.
Matt overdid it and had way too many shots tonight which was odd because you'd think he would've been completely out of his comfort zone, making him not want to drink at all but it did the complete opposite. Little did you know the only reason he even came out tonight was because you were going to be there and he couldn't bear the thought of sitting at home alone, not knowing if another guy was flirting with you or not. That and he had plans to let the liquid courage help him confess his feelings for you tonight. The feelings he had been dying to tell you since the third month of your friendship, when he actually figured it out it wasn't just attraction he had towards you.
You felt bad seeing the boys struggle to hold him up, each one of Matt's arms draped over their shoulders as he lets all of his weight hang at his feet. You quickly mumble a sorry before successfully sticking the key in the keyhole and unlocking the door. You push it open, stepping aside so you aren't in the way, going in behind them and closing it.
"Birds of a feather, we should stick together," you hear your best friend sing as his brothers drag him down the hall to his room. You throw your head back laughing as you stumble out of your heels. Matt already threw up twice - once at the party and another time in the car. It was in serious need of a detailing this week.
"Oh my fucking-," you hear Nick shout from Matt’s bedroom, "gross!" His voice is quickly followed by gut wrenching gags from Matt, or maybe it was one of his brothers. All you knew is that someone was puking so you raced down the hall, your own drunken haze wearing you down causing you to go slower, stumbling over your own two feet.
You turn the corner of Matt's bedroom, seeing him slumped over his bedside trash bin, emptying his stomach, for the third time tonight. Your motherly instincts kick in and you make your way to him, rubbing his back as he continues to throw up. His body wasn't used to that much alcohol, he wasn't a drinker at all.
"Oh Matt," you coo, attempting to soothe him as he hurls. You look over at his brothers, both covered in Matt's throw up with disgusted looks on their faces. "Has he eaten anything?" concern laced through your voice, "his stomach can't handle all the alcohol he had to tonight. Go get a couple pieces of bread for him to eat," you order, hoping one of them will do as you say so you don't have to leave Matt's side. You had been through the exact same thing he was going through one too many times, so you knew exactly what he needed.
Nick rushes out of the room, coming back with a couple pieces of bread and a bottle of water. He sets it down on the nightstand and takes a few steps back, clearly concerned about Matt because he's not worried about being covered in puke.
You look over at him, "you should go get changed. I got him, he'll be okay," reassuring him. Chris stood in the doorway, "are you sure?" He takes a few steps forward and looks at Matt, "what if he has alcohol poisoning?"
"Alco-whaa?" Matt grumbles, lifting his head from the trashcan and falling back on the bed.
"He'd be way worse if he had that," you tell him, "trust me," before sitting Matt up and wiping his mouth. To no avail, he slumps over and hits his head on the headboard, groaning and throwing a hand up to cover the goose egg that's more than likely forming. You sigh, pulling him up again, this time propping him up with pillows. "Here," cracking the water bottle open and bringing it to his lips, "drink."
Matt takes a sip from the water bottle, looking at you with his eyes bleary from the inoperative state the alcohol had him in. You smile at him, taking the water bottle away and replacing it with a piece of bread, "eat it," nodding him on. He takes a big bite and chomps on it, making you giggle. You look at Chris and Nick, kind of like you're reassuring them he'd be just fine. It works and they go on their way to clean themselves up.
You watch has Matt still chomps on his bread, staring at you with ogle eyes, "you're so fucking pretty," his speech is still slurred but a lot clearer than before.
A blush creeps up on your face, "shut up, Matt. You're drunk."
"S'what," he slurs, a kool-aid smile stretched across his smile, "you're still gorgeous."
Over the last year and a half, you and Matt had been friends, and he never flirted with you. So, your immediate thought was it had to be caused by his intoxicated state.
"Shut up and eat your bread," you mumbled a bit embarrassed. Thank God Chris and Nick weren't in the room, they'd never let the two of you live it down. Standing up to set the water on his nightstand, Matt reaches his hands out to your thighs, pulling you towards him.
You squeal at the sudden contact, "Matt, what are you doing?!"
"Cuddle with me," he whines, making sure to keep a tight grip on the backs of your thighs, pressing his head to your stomach. You look down at him, pushing a piece of hair out of his face. Matt looks up with the biggest puppy dog eyes, "please."
How could you say no to that face? Yeah, you found Matt attractive, who didn't? But you never thought he'd have his arms wrapped around your waist, begging you to cuddle with him. After debating with your inner conscious for a second, you convince yourself the outcome couldn't be that bad. Nodding to Matt, "fine," pushing him back and crawling up next to him.
His arm snakes around your shoulder and you lay your head on his chest. The two of you stay frozen in time for a while and he finally looks down at you, "I really like you, Y/n."
You snicker, "go to sleep, Matt." You were definitely giving him shit about this in the morning.
"I'm not that drunk anymore," he tells you in a defensive tone before sitting up, making you sit up with him. What was this kid getting at? Confusion spreads across your face and your eyes search the room, almost like you’re for hidden cameras. "The water helped," you hear him say.
"So, what are you trying to say, Matt," you keep your tone quiet. Was he implying he had feelings for you? You two have been friends for a little a year and a half so this sudden confession had you struck for words. Matt had never indicated he liked you or even looked at you as anything more than friends. There were no signs. This was out of the blue for you.
"I like you," he hums, obviously still drunk but not as drunk as before. He was sobering up by the minute now that the bread was absorbing all the leftover alcohol in his stomach. He looks at you, leaning in, "just told you that, silly goose," and bops your nose with his index finger.
"Y-you like me?" you stutter, trying not to overreact, "since when?"
"Since forever, duh," he laughs. Usually Matt would be embarrassed to no end having confessed his feelings to you but his intoxicated state put him at ease, "ask anyone. They all know," he nods proudly.
You ran your finger through your hair, not believing what you're hearing. "You're gonna regret this in the morning, Matthew," you tell him, using his full government name so he knows you're serious.
"Nuh-uh," he argues, "that's the only reason I got this wasted tonight, so I'd finally tell you." His final confession leaves your jaw hanging wide open, "ask my brothers. They knew the plan," he giggles before falling back onto his bed and letting the liquor take over his system, sending him into a deep sleep.
Not my photos for dividers. All credit is due to original creators! ❤️
Wrote this while taking a hot bubble bath. 10/10 recommend.
First imagine so let me know what you think!! 💚
My requests are always open!
#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#chris sturiolo fanfic#chris sturniolo x reader#matt x reader#sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#nick sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#matthew sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo imagine#matthew sturniolo fluff#bsf!Matt x bsf!Reader#bsf!matt#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo fanfic#the sturniolo triplets#sturniolos#nicolas sturniolo
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to hell and back l two
Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader
series masterlist l main masterlist l next chapter
summary: After escaping a group of brutal slavers, you are left with permanent physical and emotional scars. Unwilling to put your trust in another human being ever again, you spend a year fighting for survival alone in the post outbreak world. But when you choose to save the life of a man named Joel Miller, the wall that you’ve built to protect yourself slowly begins to crumble.
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. canon violence, canon language, reader has a flashback, mentions of slavers, implied threat of assault, guns, reader gets groped, reader has a panic attack, a lot of angst, trauma. soft Joel, protective Joel, and i even threw in some domestic Joel because just imagine that old man making you a nice lil late night snack. 🥹 i think i got most of the major warnings out of the way, i’m sorry if i missed anything!
Word Count: 8.7k
Smoke was coming off my jacket
and you didn’t seem to mind
I left a long trail of ashes and
you said, I like your style
California l Spring, 2023
Your hand trembled slightly as you gripped your pistol and aimed it at his chest.
You’d never pointed your gun at another human being before. At least not one that was still alive.
“Hey now, it’s alright. You can trust us.”
Anxiously, you glimpsed from the man who had just spoken to the woman who stood beside him.
Surely the two had to be related. Both possessed the same fiery red hair, a face full of freckles, and vivid green eyes. They stood before you with their weapons lowered in an attempt to show you that they weren’t a threat to your safety.
The man, who had to be in his mid to late thirties, moved to step forward, but halted in his tracks when he caught sight of the way your finger had twitched over the trigger. “My name is Mark,” he said, carefully gesturing to himself with his free hand. In his opposite hand, he clutched his rifle, an assault style weapon that made your gun look like a fucking toy in comparison. Still, it was you who had the upper hand, at least for now. “This here is my sister. Her name is Jessa.” He paused and when you said nothing, he asked, “Can you tell us your name?”
Chewing your bottom lip, you shook your head at him in response.
You didn’t trust them.
Not quite yet.
Jessa, who was younger and looked to be closer to your own age, offered you a kind smile. “That’s alright. You don’t have to tell us your name until you feel comfortable.” She took a look around at the small, makeshift camp that you had made for yourself. “Are you all by yourself, sweets?”
You quickly wracked your brain.
“No,” You fibbed. “I’m with my father. He should be back any minute now. He’s armed and he does not take all too kindly to strangers, so you’d best be on your way before he sees you.” You added in a steadier tone, “He won’t even think twice. He’ll just kill you on the spot, so you better leave right now. Or else.”
Amused, Mark let out a soft chuckle. “Oh, come on now, dollface. You don’t have to lie to us,” he stated, shaking his head. “Let’s try this again and let’s be honest this time, alright? How long have you been alone?”
Your throat bobbed as you swallowed harshly.
Fuck.
He had seen right through the bullshit threat.
“For about three or four days now,” You admitted, your shoulders sagging in defeat. “I was with my father and my sister. The three of us were on our way up north. We were trying to get to Seattle to the quarantine zone, but then they were—”
You suddenly stopped.
It felt like someone had driven their fist right into your gut, knocking all the wind out of your lungs and hindering your ability to speak.
You couldn’t even say it out loud.
Gruesome images of them being torn apart limb from limb flashed through your mind. Bile slowly started climbing its way up your throat and your stomach churned violently.
You were going to be sick.
“Are they both dead?” Mark questioned you.
You nodded, whispering shakily, “Yes.”
Jessa frowned. “I’m so sorry for your loss, honey. If it’s any consolation, me and Mark know exactly how it feels. We lost our entire family about three years ago. It’s the hardest thing we’ve ever been through.” Swinging back her own rifle behind her, she approached you and reached out, placing her hand over yours—the one that was still clutching your weapon. She didn’t even so much as flinch at the way the barrel was now pointed at her, how it was just an inch or two away from her chest. It didn’t seem to faze her that all it would take was you bringing your index finger down a bit harder on the trigger and she would be dead. “We know you must be fucking terrified, but it’s okay. You can trust us. We’re good, honest people and we just want to help you. But we can’t do that if you try and kill us, now can we?”
Slowly, Jessa guided you to lower your gun. She then looked over her shoulder, exchanging a look with her brother, as if asking him to back her up.
“Yeah. She’s right. We just want to help you,” he repeated after her. “We aren’t going to hurt you. If we wanted to, we probably would have by now, don’t you think so?”
You let out a tiny breath you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding and loosened your iron grip on your pistol.
He did make a fair point.
Now that your gun was pointed at the ground, he could have easily killed you. And yet, he’d made no move to blow your fucking head off.
Maybe they really were good people.
But what if they weren’t?
What if it was just a trap?
You didn’t know what to fucking think.
All you knew was that you were so helplessly lost now that your family was gone.
You were afraid.
Alone.
Jessa turned back to you. “Listen, we’re part of a settlement,” she informed you. “It’s not all too far from here, maybe six or seven miles tops. We’ve got a really big group of people and we’re always looking to bring in anyone in need. Come with us, sweets. There’s plenty of food, water, and we can you into some fresh, clean clothes too. How does that sound?”
You momentarily hesitated, still unsure whether or not you could trust the two strangers.
How did it sound?
It sounded too fucking good to be true.
“It’s a safe place,” Mark assured you from behind her. He could see the reluctance written all over your face.
“It’s as safe as safe can be,” Jessa promised. She touched your arm and flashed you another smile, one that was more kind than the first—one that was so comforting it made you feel like you could actually trust her. “So? What do you say? Will you come back with us? Will you let us help you?”
You nervously bit the inside of your cheek.
Scared, starving, and exhausted, their offer for a safe haven was much too tempting to decline.
Besides, how long could you possibly survive out here all on your own?
“Alright,” You finally agreed after a moment. “I’ll come with you.”
“There’s just one condition,” Mark stated, falling into step beside his sister in front of you. “We’re going to need you to hand over your weapon.”
“What?” You stared at him. “Why?”
“Oh, don’t worry. It’s protocol,” he said, waving a hand dismissively at you. “It’s purely for safety reasons. Anyone who comes into our group must surrender their weapons. We want to be sure that we’re bringing in someone who isn’t going to be a threat to our people. We have children, so we just want to be cautious, you know?”
“I guess that does makes sense,” You admitted.
“You’ll get it back,” Jessa reassured you. “Once you speak to the council and they determine you aren’t a threat, you’ll get your gun back. Okay?”
Left with very little choice, you agreed. “Okay.”
Mark held out his hand for the weapon.
Slowly, you placed your pistol in his open palm.
“Perfect.” Jessa chirped. “Now grab your things and let’s get going. If we hurry up, we can make it back before nightfall.”
Nodding, you turned around to grab your pack.
The second you turned your back, the barrel of the same gun you’d just handed to Mark poked you between your shoulder blades and you froze, your blood running cold in your veins.
“Hands up, bitch,” Jessa commanded. Her warm and friendly tone had vanished. “And turn around towards me slowly. Now.”
Terrified, you did as you were told and you lifted both of your hands, turning around on the heel of your sneaker to face her.
Her expression, much like her tone, was frigid.
Hostile.
“You’re going to do exactly as I say when I say it.” She held up her rifle, aiming it at you. “And if you don’t, you fucking die. Do you understand?”
“Please,” You choked out. “Don’t—”
“Do you fucking understand?” Jessa repeated in a hiss, her finger hovering over the trigger. When she was met with a small, meek nod, she turned to look at her brother. “Cuff her.”
Mark smirked. He tucked your gun away into the waistband of his jeans and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a pair of rusted handcuffs. He walked around and stood behind you, instructing, “Hands behind your back.” Once he had both of your wrists in one hand, he used the other to slip on the cuffs, tightening them so hard that the old oxidized steel dug painfully into your skin. “She’s a pretty one,” he murmured. As soon as he made certain the cuffs were securely fastened, he put a hand on your ass, groping it roughly. “Oh, you’re going to be popular with the guys, dollface. Kind of makes me want to break you in, right here and right now—give me a few minutes with her, Jess.”
Completely paralyzed with fear, all you could do was stand there in silence as his hands continued to roam your lower body, feeling you up through your jeans. He squeezed at your inner thigh, then brushed up over your zipper.
“Mark! That’s not what she’s for, you idiot,” Jessa reminded him, rolling her eyes. “Now quit fucking around and let’s start heading back to camp.”
She whirled around and started leading the way.
Mark grinned and pressed his mouth to your ear as he whispered in cruel reassurance, “Don’t you worry, now. I’ll get my chance with you—we’re all going to our chance with you.”
He grabbed you by your upper arm and roughly shoved you forward, leading you to what would inevitably be hell on earth.
Joel leans against the tree with his arms crossed over his chest. His dark eyes are fixed intently on you, carefully observing you from where he stands, more so out of concern rather than curiosity. Something isn’t right.
It’s late in the afternoon and the two of you had been about halfway into the six hour trek down south to Jackson when Joel offered to stop for a while, just long enough for the both of you to rest and take a quick breather, find a second wind before finishing the journey—but as he continues watching you, Joel starts to realize that perhaps stopping had done you much more harm than it’s done you good.
Just a few feet away from where he’s standing and keeping a watchful eye on you, you sit perched on top of a small, flat boulder hugging your knees up to your chest with both hands wrapped tightly around the grip of your pistol.
You’re in a trance like state, staring straight off into the distance at nothing in particular. Your face is completely blank. Emotionless. It appears that while all the lights are on, nobody is fucking home.
Squinting against the sunlight, Joel takes a closer look at you. He sees it so clearly, the faraway look in your eyes.
You are gone. You’ve checked out and completely disconnected from reality.
He would go as far as saying you’ve disconnected from this fucking planet.
You’re sinking, slowly drowning in some kind of thought or perhaps it was a memory—whatever it is that’s currently preoccupying your mind, it sure as hell isn’t anything good. He has no fucking clue how he’d managed to clock it so easily, so quickly, but Joel had sensed something was wrong the instant you’d drifted off.
The deeper you go and the further you lose yourself, the harder your hands clutch at your grin, the thin delicate skin on your knuckles stretching taught over the bones. It’s not until Joel notices the way your chest begins to rise and fall rapidly as your breaths quicken, the way you start struggling for air, that he knows it’s time for him to intervene before you worsen and suffocate under the weight of whatever it is that’s sitting so heavily on you.
Pushing himself away from the tree, Joel begins to approach you, taking extra care so as not to spook you into turning your pistol on him and pulling the trigger in a moment of panic. He lifts both of his hands and holds them out in front of him. Cautiously, Joel makes his way over towards where you’re sitting on the boulder, his footsteps slow and careful.
“Hey,” he calls out to you, keeping his tone firm, but somehow still gentle as he tries to garner your attention. When you don’t even acknowledge him or his presence, he tries again, speaking a little bit louder. “Hey. S’okay. S’alright. Everythin’ is alright—come on back now.” Joel draws closer and closer to you, taking tiny step after tiny step on the steel toes of his worn, black leather boots. “S’alright, darlin’. I need you to come back to me now, okay? You ain’t where you think you are. You’re alright—”
The sound of a twig snapping underneath his boot startles you. Jumping to your feet, you aim your gun at him with shaking hands and wild, terrified eyes.
Even as your finger trembles over the trigger, Joel remains calm. “Hey, c’mon. Take it easy. S’okay. You’re alright. Look, it’s me. It’s just me and I ain’t gonna do anythin’ to hurt you,” he swears. He shows you his empty hands, hoping that you would be able to snap out of it and realize that he isn’t a threat. That you aren’t in any kind of danger. But as you hold your weapon, chest heaving as you panic, Joel knows it doesn’t matter that his hands are empty. It doesn’t make a fucking difference. He knows it isn’t him who is standing in front of you.
It’s someone else. Whoever you were seeing standing there in his place, it’s someone who had done god knows what to you. Joel has a gut wrenching hunch it had something to do with the marks he’d seen around your wrists back at the cabin. The mere thought of it is enough to send an unpleasant chill up and down the length of his spine.
Joel speaks again. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.” He feels the sudden urge to reach out for you, but knowing it would be unwelcome, he resists it. All he can do is try and use his words to bring you back to the present. Back to him. “Breathe. You’re safe. I need you to breathe, can you do that for me? Do you think you can breathe for me, darlin’?”
Somehow, his voice penetrates its way in through the thickness of the white fog that you’d been lost in. You had been stumbling around helplessly in it, desperately searching for a way through. Joel’s heavy, deep Southern drawl permeates the memory, causing the haunting images from that fateful day when your life had taken a sharp turn for the worst to dissolve into nothing.
“Just breathe. Nice and slow. Inhale through your nose, then out through your mouth. Easy does it.” Joel controls his own breathing, slowing it down to demonstrate. He inhales deeply through his nose and exhales slowly through his mouth.
You stare at him with wide eyes as you fight to get the rise and fall of your chest to match his. How the hell do you know what to do?
Joel can practically hear your question ringing in your mind amidst the chaos. “My kid, she gets these awful nightmares sometimes. Wakes up in a panic thinkin’ she’s somewhere else, somewhere she ain’t safe. So my brother’s wife, Maria, well she was kind enough to show me what to do whenever it happens. She taught me a couple different breathin’ techniques that help soothe Ellie and calm her down. Told me it helps if I do them with her,” he explains to you. He can tell that you’re now coming out of the worst of it and that you’re finally starting to get some oxygen back into your lungs. He lowers his hands. Your pistol is still aimed at him, but Joel trusted you enough to know that you wouldn’t pull the trigger and blow his fucking head off. “C’mon, breathe. There we go. That’s it. Easy does it, now. In through your nose and out through your mouth, that’s it. That’s a good girl.”
It takes you a good minute or two, but your breaths fall into sync with his own and before you know it, the two of you are breathing together in harmony.
Oh. You’re not in California.
The man standing before you doesn’t have red hair and green eyes. He doesn’t have that twisted smirk on his face. He isn’t putting his hands on you. He’s not hurting you. He’s helping you.
Swallowing dryly, you lower your weapon. Your gaze meets Joel’s and somehow you find the courage to look him in his eyes for the very first time. Even though you had turned your gun on him, he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it all. He isn’t upset or angry. The look of worry on his face has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you could have easily killed him just now. It’s as if he’d known for certain that you wouldn’t pull the trigger.
“There we go,” Joel says after another minute passes by. “You see? You’re alright. You’re safe.”
There’s comfort in his words, in his deep brown eyes.
Fuck, there’s comfort in him.
Still. Your mind refuses to allow you to accept it.
At least, not completely.
Averting your gaze, you shuffle your weight from one foot to the other and then back again.
Joel clears his throat lightly. “It’s gettin’ real late,” he murmurs. “We should get a move on. We’ve still got a bit of a way to go and we really don’t wanna get ourselves caught out in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere after dark for too long, y’know?”
You give him a small nod and start to gather up your belongings. You pick up your canteen, which is now almost completely empty after you’d shared your water with him during the first leg of the hike, and shove it into one of the side pockets of your back.
“S’kinda cold,” Joel states. “And it’ll only get colder as nightfall approaches. You, uh—you warm enough in that little denim jacket?”
You shrugged a shoulder at him, not thinking anything much of the question. I’m fine.
However, as if on cue, a chilly breeze blows its way through Wyoming’s plains, causing you to shiver.
Joel quickly shrugs out of his brown jacket. “You mind if I—?”
You toss him a confused glance.
Do I mind if you what?
Joel steps towards you and lifts his arms as if he’s going to put them around you. Flinching, every muscle in your entire body goes rigid and he halts. “S’alright. I’m just gonna give you my jacket, that’s all,” he assures you, his arms frozen midair. He patiently waits for a small nod of approval. Once he has it, he drapes his jacket over your shoulders and then takes several steps back, giving you your space. “Should keep you from freezin’ your ass off out here.”
As he turns around and walks over to where he had set his rifle down, you stand there somewhat stupefied over what he’d just done. Something so simple, and yet you can’t seem to wrap your fucking brain around it.
Willing yourself to move, you carefully slide both of your arms into the sleeves of his jacket, wrapping it around your body. The scent of him, a mixture of earthy sandalwood and whatever soap he uses to wash his clothes, fills your senses and a strange, but pleasant warmth radiates throughout your chest, gradually spreading itself to the rest of your body from head to toe.
Ignoring the feeling, you pick up your backpack along with your bow and quiver of arrows, slinging everything over your shoulders.
Joel slings the strap of his rifle over his shoulder and turns back to you. “Ready to get goin’?”
Pistol in hand, you gesture for him to go ahead and walk in front of you, much like he’d done for the first half of the trip.
He lets out a small sigh. “Alright, I get it. Still don’t fully trust me. Well, we’ll keep workin’ on that, then.”
A couple of hours had gone by. The slanting rays of the setting sun give a warm orange tinge to the skies as late evening begins settling itself in.
“Y’wanna know somethin’?” Joel asks, breaking the silence between you.
You look up at the back of his head, your eyes fixing themselves on his mop of thick, unkempt salt and pepper waves. Occasionally, as you’d been slowly trudging along behind Joel, you stole glimpses of the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck and brushed against the collar of his henley.
Despite the lack of a response, Joel continues to talk. “Earlier at the cabin, just when I was startin’ to come back around, I heard a woman singin’ to me. At least, it sure seemed like she was singin’ to me. It was a real pretty song too.” He glances over his shoulder at you with curiosity. “Was that you?”
You blink at him, keeping a straight face.
“Hm, no I s’ppose it wasn’t you,” he answers his own question. He turns his attention back to the path ahead of him. “I reckon that it must have just been some sorta dream I had while I was out cold. But it sounded so vivid, y’ know? It sounded so fuckin’ real. And the strangest part of it all is that I don’t know how it’s even possible for me to dream of a voice like that,” he muses aloud.
Oh? Unable to help yourself, you move yourself from behind Joel and fall into step beside him. Now it’s you that’s riddled with curiosity. What do you mean by that?
Joel glances down at you. He grips the leather strap of his rifle and shrugs his shoulders. “Well, to be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a voice quite like that in my whole entire life,” he tells you. He shrugs once more, his arm brushing against yours by accident. Joel half expected you to deck him for it, but much to his surprise, it doesn’t seem like his touch had bothered you. “It was too fuckin’ gorgeous. So beautiful that part of me wonders if it was someone or somethin’ out of this world.” He pauses and peered at you, detecting a slight glimmer of light in your eyes. “Felt like I had a real life angel singin’ to me.”
You feel the corners of your lips threatening to turn upwards into a smile. Turning your face away from him, it takes everything you had in you to force them back down.
“Well look at that. You’re walkin’ right next to me,” Joel observes after a minute, raising an eyebrow.
Your head whips back around.
“Must mean that I’m doin’ somethin’ right, huh darlin’?”
You snort and roll your eyes.
I think I liked it better when you weren’t talking.
Still, you remain at his side.
The rest of the trek is silent.
Night had just fallen by the time that you and Joel finally made it to Jackson. The moment that you set your sights on the massive wooden gate out in the distance, your heart begins to pound, slamming against your ribcage.
The closer the both of you draw to the barrier, the easier it is for you to see the men and women who are standing on a platform on top of the gate, heavily armed as they keep watch—their lights illuminate the perimeter of the settlement and light up the velvet purple sky.
You stop dead in your tracks. Oh fuck that.
Joel shakes his head. “S’alright. Don’t be scared.”
There’s six people standing on top of that gate armed with fucking assault rifles. And you don’t expect me to be scared? Are you for real?
“Look, things might be a little tense at first when the patrolmen see us,” he admits, raking a hand through his hair. “None of them have any idea that I’m still alive, but as soon as they see that it’s me, they’re gonna stand down. All I need is for you to stay calm and follow my lead, alright?” He nods at the pistol in your hand. “M’also gonna need for you to put your gun away and out of sight.”
You glare at him, your eyes flashing angrily in the darkness.
You said I could have my weapons on me.
Joel holds up his hand. “I promise that I ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you, alright? I swear it on my fuckin’ life,” he vows. “You have my word. No one’s gonna hurt you. I won’t let them. Just stay calm and do as I say. Please,” he adds, a hint of desperation lacing his tone. “Y’think you can do that for me?”
Your mind is screaming, begging you to run and run fast. Instead, you find yourself reluctantly tucking your gun into the waistband of your jeans, concealing it just like Joel had asked you to do.
“Stay behind me,” he instructs, shoving his own rifle behind him. He begins leading the way towards the gate and beckons for you to follow close.
The second the two of you step out from the darkness and into the light, the sound of firearms cocking breaks through the silence of the night.
“Stop right there!” A woman’s voice shouts. “Freeze! Or we’ll fucking shoot!”
“Melissa, it’s me!” Joel calls out, holding up his hands. “It’s Joel!”
“What?”
He huffs and yells again, “It’s Joel!”
“Wait a goddamn minute, everyone fucking stand down!” Melissa loudly barks the order at the five other patrol men and women who are standing on either side of her with their firearms aimed and at the ready. “Joel? Joel Miller, is that really you?” She leans her body forward over the gate and squints at him, letting out an incredulous laugh. “Well butter my fucking ass and call me a goddamn biscuit, the man is fucking alive! Quick, open up the gates! Somebody go and get Tommy! Let’s go, fucking move it people!”
Joel drops his hands, sighing in relief.
You, on the other hand, are scared shitless and wonder if it’s too late to make a run for it.
“Remember,” he says, looking back at you. “Calm. Okay?”
You force a small, tight nod of your head.
Okay.
The gate’s doors pull apart and he leads you up to them and through to the other side where you and Joel are met with a frantic crowd of at least two dozen people—the obnoxious, overlapping chatter coupled with the blatant stares you’re receiving cause an overwhelming feeling of anxiousness to wash over you in a massive wave that, if you allow it, is going to drown you right there on the spot. Refusing to make eye contact with anybody, you fix your gaze on Joel, keeping it focused on the broadness of his back as more and more people circle around the both of you, caging you in with nowhere to run.
“Joel!” Melissa elbows her way through the large crowd, rushing up to him. She grabs him by the arms, giving him a quick once over. “Holy shit! We thought you were fucking dead! I can’t fucking believe it!”
“Where’s Tommy?” Joel asks her.
“At home with Maria. Lisa went to pull him out of bed—where the hell have you been, Joel? It’s been three fucking days!”
Joel purses his lips together tightly. He can feel you inching yourself forward, trying to stand as close to him as possible as more people join the scene. The toes of your boots touch the heels of his, your chest lightly brushing against his back. While Joel doesn’t blame the people of the town for being curious, he isn’t all too fond of the way they’re staring at you—the gestures and the finger pointing, the mutters and the whispers. He doesn’t have to see you to know it’s making you uncomfortable, and his priority is to get you out of there and somewhere where you would feel safe. “Listen, it’s a real long story that I ain’t got time for right this minute. I need Tommy—”
“Miller!”
A loud, booming voice comes from behind Melissa.
It belongs to a tall, bulky blond haired man—his mere presence is intimidating, proven by how it had taken absolutely nothing for the crowd to part and make room for him to pass through. Smirking, he saunters up to Joel and remarks, “I thought you were a fucking goner.”
Joel’s jaw clenches, but he says nothing.
The tension between the two men could be sliced with a fucking machete.
His blue eyes flit over Joel’s shoulder to you. “Well, well, well. Who is this sweet little lady?”
You step even closer to Joel, pressing yourself against his backside and taking a fistful of his shirt.
“None of your fuckin’ business, that’s who.”
Keith’s smirk widens. “Actually, as head of safety and security for this community, it fucking is my business,” he reminds him. “She infected?”
Joel raises his eyebrows. “Does she look fuckin’ infected to you?”
“You know the commune’s rules, Miller.” Without tearing his eyes away from you, Keith calls over his shoulder, “Bring out one of the hounds! Now!”
Behind him, Joel hears a small gasp.
Hounds?
Joel whirls around. “Hey, s’alright,” he says quickly before you can start to panic. “We have dogs that have been trained to sniff out the cordyceps infection. S’just gonna smell you, that’s all.”
The crowd backs away as a woman with cropped hair brings out a large black dog on a chain leash attached to a brown leather harness. Once it catches sight of you, the unfamiliar newcomer, the animal begins to bark and growl, thrashing around as it tries to lunge towards you. The dog tugs and pulls at his leash so violently that he nearly knocks his handler over. The woman unclips the leash and sets the dog free—it approaches you, snarling and baring its teeth.
You start to back away, but Joel stops you.
“Relax,” he mutters to you under his breath. He moves to stand beside you and holds out his hand, offering it in an attempt to comfort you and ease the fear. He hadn’t expected you to accept it, so when you place your hand in his and lace your fingers with his own, he’s taken by complete surprise.
You squeeze his rough, calloused fingers as the dog comes closer towards you. Nervously, you hold your other hand out to it, prompting it to snap at you, its teeth snapping together. Somehow, you muster enough courage to hold your hand steady and the animal growls, but then gives it a sniff. When it doesn’t detect what it’s searching for, the dog happily wags his tail and gives your hand a friendly lick before running back over to its handler who puts the animal back on the leash.
You breathe out in relief.
“There,” Joel snaps at Keith. “You satisfied?”
Keith clicks his tongue. “Almost,” he drawls. He walks over to you, another smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “What’s your name, dollface?”
Your stomach drops at the nickname. Looking down at the dirt, you don’t reply.
“Aw, she’s shy! Well isn’t that just adorable.” Keith lets out a raspy laugh, causing a couple of the onlookers to laugh along with him. “What’s the matter, sweetie pie? Hm? Cat got your tongue?”
Joel drops your hand, his nostrils flaring. “Back off asshole or else—”
Ignoring him, the blond patrolman eyes the weapon hanging on your shoulder. “That’s a really nice bow you’ve got there,” Keith states, cutting off Joel’s threat. “But we do have rules here. Newcomers have to surrender their weapons so they can be stored away securely. We don’t know you and until we can know for sure you won’t be a threat to the people of this town, you’re going to have to surrender that bow along with all other weapons you’re carrying.” Keith lowers his voice as he adds, “And I would advise you not to try and hide anything because I’m going to be the one to pat you down—and I’ll be thorough. I don’t take all too kindly to liars, so keep that in mind.”
“You just threaten her in front of me?” Trying his hardest not to cause a scene with so many people watching the three of you, Joel keeps his voice low and quiet—but the sharp, dangerous edge to his tone can’t be missed.
“Of course I didn’t,” Keith responds, innocently. “All I was doing was letting her know how we work around here in Jackson. We’ve been operating the town the same way for years now for a good reason. The rules we set in place apply to any and all newcomers, regardless of who they came here with.” He holds out his hands to you. “Surrender all of your weapons to me. Now.”
Shaking your head, you take a step back. This was not what you’d agreed to. This wasn’t the promise that Joel had made you back at the cabin.
Joel glares at him. “She ain’t surrenderin’ a goddamn thing—”
It’s too late.
Keith steps towards you and goes for the bow. As his hand shoots out to take it from your shoulder, you quickly turn your body and swiftly dodge it. He feels his face burn with red hot anger as several onlookers gasp at your act of rebelliousness. Furious, Keith reaches for you again and grabs you, taking the upper part of your arm in a harsh grip that makes you squeak out in pain.
You lift your opposite arm and swing a curled fist up towards his face, but he catches your wrist in his other hand before it can connect with his jawline.
Joel!
You try to say his name, but you fucking can’t.
Your mouth opens and nothing comes out. For as hard you push and try to force it, you can’t find your voice. Instead, all that falls from your lips is a pathetic, strangled little cry. You yank and pull, struggling as you try to tear yourself out of Keith’s grasp.
Livid, Joel nearly goes fucking blind with rage. He snatches Keith by the collar of his leather jacket, ripping him away from you. Though he’s still sore as from the fall off of his horse three days ago, he uses every ounce of strength he has left in him to throw him down into the dirt at the feet of a fellow patrolman named Wyatt. “Don’t. Fuckin’. Touch. Her.” He barely manages to bite out the words through gritted teeth. “Ever.”
Wyatt helps him up to his feet. “You alright, man?”
“Get the fuck off me!” Keith snarls, pushing him away. His chest is heaving and his face turns a deep shade of red. Whether it’s because he’s embarrassed or if it’s because he’s angry, no one can quite tell the difference. One thing is for damn sure, he isn’t used to someone going against his authority and everyone watching holds their breath, waiting to see what he’s going to do next. After all, the man going against him happened to be their leader’s brother in law. “What the fuck is your goddamn problem, Miller? It’s protocol—”
“Not today it ain’t.”
Keith approaches him, his hands curled into tight fists at his sides. He stands so close that the two of them are chest to chest, ready to tear each other to shreds. “Do you think just because your fucking brother is second in command, you can just do as you please? Is that it?” He questions, bitterly. “It doesn’t fucking work like that. We have rules set in place for a reason, Joel. We are going to do this by the fucking book whether your little girlfriend here likes it or not, got it?”
Stepping around him, he starts towards you but Joel is quick to block his path. He stands in front of you and squares his shoulders.
He speaks, his voice dangerously low. “You listen and you listen good. If you even so much as think about layin’ another fuckin’ finger on her, I’ll make sure you spend the rest of tonight pickin’ up your teeth off the ground. You understand me?”
“That a threat?”
“It ain’t a threat. It’s a fuckin’ promise.”
Keith pulls his arm back and he’s about ready to take a swing when he’s stopped by the sound of Tommy Miller’s frantic voice.
“Joel! Where is he—where the fuck is Joel?”
The much younger, raven haired man approaches the scene, shrugging a blue denim jacket over his cotton white t-shirt. The instant that he spots Joel, he runs up to him and throws his arms around his shoulders. “Fuckin’ Christ, I thought I fuckin’ lost you out there! What the hell happened?”
“Where’s Ellie?” Joel demands. “She okay?”
“She’s fast asleep at my place with Maria and the baby. She’s been with us this entire time.”
Joel’s shoulders sag in relief.
Tommy looks around, frowning. “What’s going on? What’s everyone doin’ out here?” He then sees you and raises his eyebrows at his older brother. “Joel? Who’s that?”
“Look, I’ll explain everything, can we just—can we talk in private?”
Although he’s confused, Tommy nods.
“Of course. C’mon, let’s go back to my place.”
“Well I’ll be damned,” Tommy states as soon as Joel had finished recounting the story—well, what he could remember, anyway. It wasn’t much.
You’re sitting beside Joel across the table from Tommy and Maria in the kitchen of their home. All three of them speak in quiet, hushed voices so as not to wake Ellie and Samuel, Tommy and Maria’s infant son. Maria had offered to go upstairs to pull Ellie out of bed so that she and Joel could reunite, but when Tommy mentioned tonight had been the first night since Joel had gone missing three days ago that she had finally managed to fall asleep, everyone agreed it would be best to wait until the morning.
“So, she saved your life,” Tommy concludes. His brown eyes, even darker than those of his older brother, flicker over to you once again. You sit there in complete silence, staring at the top of the wooden table, refusing to meet his gaze—or that of his wife.
Joel nods. “She did, Tommy. I don’t fuckin’ know how, but what I do know is that if it wasn’t for her, then I wouldn’t be sittin’ here at this table right now.”
You shuffle uncomfortably in your chair. Though the couple had been kind to you, it didn’t make it any easier when they stared at you like you had a second head.
“She saved your life and you don’t even know her name?” Tommy’s in complete disbelief.
“No. She doesn’t talk.”
Maria hums. “I have an idea. Let me find her a notepad or something to write on,” she suggests after a minute. She stands up, wrapping her cotton blue robe around herself, concealing her pajamas as she walks over to the kitchen counter. It takes her a bit of digging around, but in one of her junk drawers, she finds a pen and a small notepad. She makes her way back over to the table and sets the items down in front of you. “Can you write down your name for us?”
You don’t move a single muscle.
“It’s okay, honey. Just write down your name—”
“Best we don’t push her too much,” Joel warns her, holding out his hand to stop her from coming too close into your space.
You glance up at him, your lips parting slightly.
“Don’t worry,” he tells you. “You ain’t gotta tell us anythin’ until you’re good and ready. Alright?”
Tommy clears his throat. “Joel? Can me and you have a quick word in private please?”
Your heart skips an anxious beat.
No, wait! Please don’t leave me.
Less than eight hours ago, you’d been wary of this man, unable to fully trust him. Now, just the mere thought of him leaving your side puts you on edge.
“S’fine, we’re just gonna be out in the hallway,” he assures you. “It’ll only be for a minute or two.”
Realizing you didn’t want to be left alone with her, Maria jabs a thumb over her shoulder towards the gas powered stove. “I’m going to make myself a hot cup of chamomile tea. I can boil water for an extra mug if you’d like some?” she offers, warmly.
You’d turned down food and water already, much too afraid to accept anything from her. However, a warm drink did sound tempting and truth be told, Maria did seem like a nice woman. She’s Joel’s family—maybe it wouldn’t hurt to at the very least try and trust her too.
Finally, you nod your head.
“Great,” Maria smiles, looking pleased. “I think it’ll do you some good. Chamomile is very soothing. It helps me relax—something that’s hard to do when you have a fussy six month old,” she kids as she whirls around and goes about preparing the tea.
After making certain that you’ll be fine without him, Joel follows Tommy out into the hallway.
“Joel, what were you thinkin’ bringing her here?”
“What the hell are you talkin’ about?”
Tommy sighs. “We need to be careful about who we bring into Jackson—”
“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me right now? You worried about this girl bein’ a threat?” Joel stares at him in complete shock. “You serious, Tommy?”
“For all we know, she could be a threat. She didn’t want to give up her weapons, Joel! She even took a swing at Keith!” He hisses. “And she did it in front of a fuckin’ crowd!”
“He put his fuckin’ hands on her—”
“She didn’t cooperate, Joel. You know damn good and well what happens when someone isn’t willin’ to cooperate with the rules. It leads to nothin’ but trouble and you know it as well as I do,” Tommy says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Her first impression here wasn’t a good one. And to make matters a whole lot worse, we don’t know anythin’ about her. It’s a risk takin’ her into the community.”
Joel can’t even believe what he’s hearing.
“So you’d rather I just left her out there alone?”
“Look Joel, we don’t know what she’s capable of,” Tommy reminds him, quietly. “If she’s managed to survive out there all on her own for this fuckin’ long, then who the hell knows what she’s done or what kind of blood is on her hands—you might be thinkin’ that she’s some helpless little victim, but maybe she’s not. Hell, we’ll never know because the girl can’t fuckin’ talk. Or maybe she just won’t talk. Either way, we’re runnin’ a huge risk by takin’ her in without knowin’ who the hell she is or where she came from.”
Joel glares at him. “Listen here, whether she can’t talk or just won’t talk, that doesn’t fuckin’ matter,” he says. He pauses briefly, long enough to take a peek back into the kitchen where you’re still sitting at the table. After she’d finished making the tea, Maria took the two steaming mugs and sat down in the chair beside you. She’s now trying almost desperately to get you to write down your name on the notepad. He immediately notices the way that you’d started wringing your hands together anxiously in your lap and he knows you’re debating in your mind whether or not you should reveal your identity to the stranger. He turns back to his brother with a frown. “She ain’t a helpless victim. She’s a survivor. She saved my fuckin’ life out there, Tommy. If it weren’t for her, I would be dead right now.”
“And where is she gonna stay?”
“With me and Ellie, of course.”
Tommy almost laughs. “Wait. You’re gonna be in charge of her? Someone who won’t fuckin’ talk to you? Whose name you don’t even know? Are you serious?”
Joel doesn’t even think twice about it. “Yeah.”
“Look Joel, I know you can be kind of a fuckin’ dumbass, but you can’t possibly be this goddamn dumb, big brother. Think ‘bout it—”
“I already have thought about it. She’s stayin’ with me.” Joel shrugs. “I know it ain’t gonna be easy, but maybe I can get her to trust me enough to talk to me.”
Tommy raises an eyebrow at him. “You really think she can talk and she’s just choosin’ not to?”
“I think she wants to talk, but she can’t. She’s too scared right now. But if I can get her to really trust me—”
“That girl ain’t gonna fuckin’ trust you, Joel.”
“She trusted me enough to come to Jackson,” he says, fiercely. “That has to mean somethin’, I just know it does.”
Tommy exhales a long and heavy sigh. He already knew just how fucking stubborn his brother could be. There’s no changing Joel’s mind once it was made up.
Maria steps out into the hallway. “No luck,” she tells them, shaking her head lightly. “I can’t even begin to imagine what she’s been through. If she’s too terrified to even give us her name—”
“It must’ve been somethin’ real bad,” Joel finishes for her. He places his hands on his hips. “I think I might have some idea of what happened to her.”
“What do you mean?” she asks.
Joel lowers his voice as he briefly tells Tommy and Maria about the scars he’d seen around your wrist. “Like she’s been in handcuffs or somethin’,” he murmurs. “Think it could’ve been FEDRA?”
“Possibly.” Maria thinks it over for a moment. “There’s also a good possibility that she’s been a prisoner in a slave camp.”
Slavers.
Joel’s stomach churns at the thought of it. He’d heard about those kinds of groups, about the cruel and inhumane things they did to their prisoners.
He fucking hoped that wasn’t it. But something in his gut told him not to be so goddamn naive.
“Listen, we feel for the girl, Joel. We do,” Tommy admits. “And we’re willin’ to give her some time to adjust, same as we did with you and with Ellie—same as we do with all newcomers. But regardless of what she’s been through, she’s still gonna need to pull her weight around here, just like the rest of us. She’s expected to take on work duty just like everybody else. It’ll be hard findin’ the right job for her if she’s not gonna talk to anyone so the sooner you can get her to break her silence, the better it’ll be,” he advises. He points a finger at his brother. “From this point on, she’s your responsibility.”
“I can handle it, Tommy.”
“For your sake, I really hope you can.”
“Good to know you’ve got faith in me,” Joel makes the sarcastic comment under his breath, but he’s certain Tommy had heard it. “It’s gettin’ pretty late now. She’s exhausted and so am I. M’gonna take her back to my place and get her settled in for the night.”
“What ‘bout Ellie?”
“Best she just stays here with you two tonight. As soon as she’s up in the mornin’, you can bring her on over to mine if that’s alright with you and Maria?”
Tommy nods. “You got it, brother.”
“Besides, I figure it’ll give me a bit of extra time to think of how I’m gonna explain everythin’ to her.” Joel suddenly realizes that he hadn’t given much thought about how he was going to tell Ellie about you—how he was going to explain your condition to her and how you’d be sharing a roof with them from this point on.
Tommy chuckles. “Yeah, good luck with that one.”
Rolling his eyes, Joel roughly shoves past him and back into the kitchen.
You hadn’t drank the tea Maria had made you, but you’d wrapped your hands around the ceramic red mug to warm them up.
“C’mon,” he beckons to you with his hand. “Let’s go. M’gonna take you home now.”
Home.
The word rinds oddly in your ears.
You stand up from the table.
“Wait.” Maria picks up the notepad and pen, handing them over to you. “Here. Take these with you. Just in case you decide you want to use them.”
Joel pushes through the front door, switching on the lights in the foyer of his home before stepping aside to let you in. He watches as you stand there at the door looking rather apprehensive. “It’s okay, darlin’. S’just me and you here tonight.”
Carefully, you step over the threshold. When was the last time you’d even set foot in an actual house? One with running water and electricity?
You couldn’t remember.
Joel shuts the front door behind you and locks it. “Let’s go upstairs.” He gestures for you to follow him up the cherrywood staircase. “It’s pretty late, so I’ll show you the rest of the house tomorrow in the mornin’,” he promises you over his shoulder. At the top of the staircase, Joel switches on more lights that illuminate a short hallway. He points to a door at the end of it, stating, “That one there at the end, that’s mine. This one here is Ellie’s. We also have a third spare, it’s right across from her.” He nods with his head towards the door of the bedroom he’d been referring to. “Go on. Open it up and check it out for yourself.”
You want me to open the door?
Seeing your expression, Joel chuckles. “Go on. It’s alright. There’s nothin’ bad in there. I promise.”
You momentarily hesitate. Fingers trembling, you reach out and grasp the brass door knob, slowly turning it and pushing the door open. You peek inside and flip the light switch next to the door frame.
You gasp. Holy shit, is this fucking real?
The spare bedroom is fully furnished with light oakwood furniture—a dresser up against one wall, a desk nestled in the corner, and two nightstands on either side of the most comfortable, full sized bed that you’d ever seen. The décor is minimal, but whoever had occupied the space before had a clear adoration for simple, warm, earthy tones. You nearly smile at the shades of mud brown, forest green, and autumn orange. Setting your things down on the hardwood floor, you make your way over to the bed and sit down, planting your hands firmly on either side of you. You relish in the softness of the cream colored duvet comforter.
“I’m guessin’ you like it.” Joel can’t help but grin a little. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go see if I can get you one of my shirts or somethin’ that you can sleep in. Make yourself comfortable.” He spins around on the heel of his boot, disappearing into the hallway.
Unable to resist, you lay back onto the bed. Your body sinks into it, melting right into the mattress. It feels like a fucking cloud.
Joel reappears in the room just seconds later. “I can see you took what I said about makin’ yourself comfortable quite literally.” His voice causes you to shoot back up into a sitting position. Joel stands there at the door holding a long sleeved, navy and white flannel shirt in one hand—in the other, he’d been holding a gray hooded sweatshirt and from his arm swings a brown canvas tote bag. “Not too sure what you would prefer to sleep in. I figured you might want somethin’ on the warmer side. Here’s a couple options to choose from. I’ve also got t-shirts if you’d rather sleep in one of those.”
Standing up from the bed, you walk over to him and he holds out the articles of clothing for you to see better. It’s his flannel you gravitate to the most. Taking it from him, you run your fingers over the fabric.
“I can throw your clothes in the washing machine for you first thing tomorrow so they’ll be clean by the time you wake up,” he adds.
You breath out shakily.
A fucking washing machine.
“Overwhelming, ain’t it?”Joel drapes the hooded sweatshirt over a nearby chair, deciding to leave it for you as well. “Trust me, I get it. I felt the same when I first got here with Ellie. It took a lot of time for the both of us to adjust to this new way of life after being out there for so long,” he confesses to you. “The important thing is to take it one step at a time, darlin’. And somethin’ is tellin’ me the next step for you is probably takin’ a nice hot shower?”
Your mouth falls open. A hot shower? Hot?
“You’ll have to share a bathroom with Ellie.” Joel leads you out of the bedroom and to another door adjacent to yours. He shows you the bathroom, telling you which knob in the shower was for hot water and which one was for cold water. “You can use Ellie’s shampoo, m’sure she won’t mind. I’d offer you some of my own, but I don’t think you’ll wanna walk around smellin’ like sandalwood and spice.” Joel hands you the canvas bag he’d had draped over his arm. “Here. Should be pretty much everythin’ you’re gonna need. There’s a bar of soap, a couple clean washcloths, a toothbrush, and a tube of toothpaste. There’s also a razor.” He pauses. “It’s a men’s razor, one of mine I’ve never used, but I reckon it does the job just the same as a woman’s razor.”
Amused, you quirk an eyebrow at him. What the hell are you trying to say? That I need to shave?
“Not that you have to use it,” he adds quickly, his cheeks burning bright red at what you thought he had been insinuating. He shifts awkwardly from boot to boot. “I tossed it in there just in case you’d want to, but you ain’t gotta use it, that’s not what I meant at all—”
Deciding you don’t want to see him squirm, you lift a hand up to stop him and shake your head.
Truth be told, you actually couldn’t fucking wait to shave your legs.
Calm down, cowboy. It’s all good.
Realizing he hadn’t offended you, Joel relaxes. “I’ll let you get to your shower. You take as long as you want, but just try and leave some hot water for me since I’m next,” he chuckles. “As soon as we both get all cleaned up, we can meet downstairs in the kitchen for a quick bite to eat before bed. Deal?”
Deal.
He’s about to leave you to it when you stop him, grabbing his arm. Wait a second, Joel.
Joel’s eyes meet yours. “Yeah?”
Thank you.
Your gratitude might have been silent, but it was there and he knew it.
Feeling brave, Joel reaches up and places his hand over yours for a moment, his thumb brushing against the softness of your skin. “No need to thank me, sweetheart.”
Letting his hand drop away from yours, Joel then turns and leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him to give you your privacy.
Once you have the hot water running, you kick off your boots and start to peel off your clothes, tossing them into a pile on the floor near the door. Completely naked, you turn your back towards the oval shaped mirror hanging over the bathroom sink, unwilling to take a look at the scars on your body—painful reminders of the cruel punishments you’d endured during your time in captivity.
You grab the toiletries from the tote bag Joel had given you and set them on the side of the tub. Pulling the yellow floral curtain aside, you step into the shower and position yourself directly underneath the scalding hot water, letting it burn your skin to give you an entirely different kind of pain to think about, even if it was just for a minute until your body adjusted to the temperature of the water and it no longer hurt.
You begin washing yourself, trying your hardest to keep from crumbling. But you couldn’t. Lump in your throat and a tightness in your chest, tears brim your eyes, ready to fall.
You’re willing to let them.
Two years. For almost two fucking years, you had been suppressing your emotions. You’d been in a constant survival mode, there had been no time to feel anything. And now here you were, standing in a fucking shower with all the freedom in the world to just let it all out.
Silent sobs wrack your body, bringing you down onto your knees.
Joel’s shower had been a quick one.
You hadn’t left him very much hot water—but he couldn’t even be mad about it.
He pulls on a pair of light gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt. He haphazardly dries off his hair and makes his way downstairs, knowing you would be heading down there any minute now to meet him like you’d agreed. Without much time to make a proper meal for you to eat, Joel goes about the dimly lit kitchen and prepares a couple of cold turkey sandwiches. He’d just plated them and set them on the table when the soft padding of bare feet on the hardwood floor prompts him to look up.
His breath catches in his throat. You stand there in the doorway wearing nothing but his flannel shirt. The hem of it falls to the middle of your thighs, and it takes everything in him not to think about the fact that you weren’t wearing anything under his shirt. His fucking shirt.
Clearing his throat lightly, he makes sure not to let his gaze wander where it’s not supposed to. “I bet you feel a lot better, don’t you?”
You sigh softly. Oh, you have no fucking idea.
Noticing you’re holding your hands behind your back, Joel shoots you a puzzled look. “What’cha got there?”
You bring your arms forward. Clutched in your hands is the notepad and pen that Maria had given you.
Although he takes it as a sign that you are willing to communicate with him, Joel knows better than to get too far ahead of himself. He’d wait until you were ready to make the first move and he’d follow your lead. “I made you a sandwich to eat,” he tells you, pulling out a chair at the table. “C’mon, come have a seat.”
After you sit down, Joel goes over to the sink and fills two glasses of water, one for you and one for himself. Setting them down on the table, he finally takes a seat across from you—that’s when he notices the redness in your eyes. You’d been crying. Even though he wants to ask you if you’re alright, Joel decides against it for the time being and the two of you eat in comfortable, tranquil silence.
“I can make you another one if you’re still hungry,” Joel offers when you polish off the last couple bites of your sandwich.
Shaking your head, you place your hands on your belly signaling that you’re full. You’re not, though. You’d eagerly scarf another three of them down if you could, but you were a lot more exhausted than you were hungry and you couldn’t wait to crawl into that bed upstairs and get some sleep..
Joel studies you. “You okay, darlin’?”
You shrug. This has just been a lot to process.
“I know it’s gonna be tough for you. It’s like I told you earlier, it’s gonna take some time to adjust to your new life here in Jackson. But I need you to know you ain’t alone anymore. I’m gonna be here to look out for you. And trust me, I know you don’t really need me to.” Joel pauses and shoots you a crooked little grin. “Hell, you took a swing at Keith. You’ve got bigger fuckin’ balls than half of the men in this town. Includin’ myself.”
You let out a huff of amusement from your nose and the corners of your mouth tug into a small smile—you don’t try to force it down.
Joel blurts the words before he can even think to stop himself. “You’ve got a real nice smile, y’know.”
Biting down on your bottom lip, you move your empty plate off to the side and grab your pen and notepad. You swiftly scribble something onto the blank page, then slide it across the table to Joel.
He picks it up, an odd sensation fluttering inside his chest when he realizes what you had done.
You’d written down your name for him.
He says it out loud, and then looks up at you.
“That’s a real beautiful name.” Sincerity drips from his tone, going hand in hand with his compliment.
Cheeks burning, you glance down at your hands, which you’d begun wringing together on top of the table. It was out of nervousness, but this kind was different. You couldn’t quite explain it.
“I know it’s gonna take a whole lot more than a hot shower and a sandwich to get you to trust me. But I swear that I’m gonna do whatever I can to show you that you ain’t got anythin’ to be afraid of. Not with me around. Okay?”
Okay.
You open your mouth, trying to repeat the word back to him.
Joel’s eyes widen slightly. You wanted to talk to him—you were actually trying to talk to him. But it was a clear struggle. Something wasn’t letting you find your voice.
Clamping your mouth shut, you sigh and sink back into your chair. I’m sorry. I can’t.
“It’s okay,” he says, softly. “We’re gonna take this one step at a time. Together.”
#to hell and back fic#to hell and back#joel miller series#joel miller story#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x you#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller hbo#joel miller comfort#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#the last of us fic#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fic#tlou fanfiction
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"Sleep." (Astarion x reader pov fluff)
After nearly 200 years without any real respite, Astarion felt annually pampered by the tranquility his dead-life brings now to him. Sleeping. And he’s discovering this wonder.. while sleeping.
He turns a lot, quickly and very suddenly. To the point where his subtil, but rough movements gave you the scares once or twice. Sometimes, he mumbled things, some quiet garbled sentences, often ending on a random word.
His lips slightly parted, his cute but dangerous fangs pointing out as a quiet purr escaped his mouth. Those nights were more or less enjoyable, but you weren’t against the idea of being with someone, being with him. He never touched you. Contact we’re silently forbidden. You got it. You knew it was hard for him. You never expected anything, or waited after him for something in particular, which was, by all means, making it easy to shift the tense atmosphere to one where it felt almost tender and sweet. The only thing you wished for silently, was for him to stay with you. So many years of baggage trailing behind you, a boulder written loneliness on it, a silent burden that you never dared to talk about to anyone.
The first nights with him were calm and cold. Astarion masked often, pretending to sleep, anchored firmly by himself in the corner of the bed, closing slowly his eyes for the simple sake of relaxing them. He was simply not ready to allow himself to feel so vulnerable in this state, not next to you or whoever else, something that you had a lot of respect for. He stopped pretending, shifting his attention to you when he realized you weren’t sleeping most of the time. And when you did, he found himself staring at you when you whimpered quietly through the night in your dreams. Sometimes, he realizes he stops breathing until you cease your littles shakes and those sad little sounds. Not that he needs to breathe, of course.. But the fact that he does it with.. such.. no.
Despite his own denial, his words became gradually less mean, harsh and without him noticing, or at least, not on the spot. He often stayed awake with you, and you whispered to each other about anything and everything. Your dreams, fears, needs, stories, gossip.. He discovered one thing leading to another, such a sweet, nice and patient person, full of dreams and ambitions. Although, he easily recognized the sorrow twitching at the corner of your lips sometimes when you spoke, late at night, a little bit more open, a little bit more vulnerable next to him. A connection settled it between the both of you after your laughs, little screams of joy and even your fights - only to know who would take the pillow tonight (him, lol).
Once Astarion understood that your intentions were, frankly, far from being vile and that you never asked or expected anything from him, trust began to sprout rather quickly to this point. With more nights and more time spent with him, there are two things the vampire was in hunt for : heat and comfort your body provides.
Oh! And now that a well-established mental and physical comfort zone was made for both of us, Astarion had no respect for your personal space, having his leg on your back while he slept in star-shaped, an arm over his eyes as he snored quietly.
That night, you woke up, dreamless, sleepless like a countless time before. You blinked softly in the middle of the night, watching a small and soft dancing light at the back of the tent on the pretty nightstand. Astarion adopted a new habit : keeping a small candle lit so he could sleep properly. The reasons are obvious, even if he never spoke about it, not that way. That was the only way he could allow himself to finally sleep next to you, safe and sound, unafraid. It was a favorable environment, because you gently leaned and lifted a pretty book of his off the ground, deciding to distract yourself as your favorite rogue snored quietly, sweetly, half sleeping on you with no remorse.
You were used to him moving a lot, but that night, he was unstable like a kid that ate too much sugar before going to sleep, his muscles moving by reflexes in his dream state. He groaned a lot, grabbed your leg, holding it almost as a side pillow, then woops - never mind - turned around, pulled the covers to wrap himself firmly, throwing it away after only two single minutes. You tried to hold back some snorts and some quiet giggles. But you sometimes glanced back at him with worry, figuring out if he was having a nightmare. You nodded gently after a while. He was just a very light and maybe a tad violent sleeper. Well, that’s what you tought of the whole thing, at least. But for him? He was simply longing unconsciously for something to hold.
You were reading his book, turning the pages so quietly as you tried not to wake him up. Everything was sweet and quiet for at least a small second before you heard the sheets shifting. You turned very slowly towards him, lowering your book, holding it next to your waist. You blinked nervously and had a shy smile as you saw him, dropping it as quickly as it came as you saw the facts:
Astarion was sitting in the bed, rubbing his eyes with both of his hands for a moment. He stopped as he lowered his hands and glared at you. Frustrated. Angry, even. You wondered if you woke him up as you shyly watched him, not sure what to do. You started to stutter some apologies and a small, very quiet :
“-..is everything alright..?”
He still watched you, the same gaze on his beautiful and perfect features, not doing anything at all. After a while, he exhaled a loud sight, noticing the uncomfortable position he left you in. His leg graciously lifted off your back and his feet stomped the ground once, making a loud thud that made you shivered. A moment passed as you both watched each other. Suddenly, he shifted slowly, lazily towards you, his eyes wandering on your body for a moment. His gaze found yours again and he blinked slowly, almost as if he were asking a question without talking. You raised gently an eyebrow as you smiled shyly again. He suddenly shoved an arm under yours, making you yelp as he yanked your arm, your book falling, Astarion leaning back with you in his previous position. He sighted happily as you half-fell on him and turned so you could lean on the bed as he faced you. Everything next happened so softly it almost made you cry. He wanted to hold you, so he moved your limbs gently but still firmly so you were more comfortable this time. He shifted close to you, a hand on your back as he cradled your head, pulling you closer to him. He boldly pulled a leg over yours, just for his own personal comfort, grinning a little. He softly whispered as you fluttered your eyes shut.
“Sleep.”
Hello, i'm new and probably not very good at writing and this is the first thing i've done since a couple of years (i'm not speaking english very well also lol) but it's just a sweet tought i had of Astarion aw a pov. Very cute and funny in my little hamster mind. That's it!
ta-ta!
#astarion ancunin#Astarion#Astarion x reader#astarion x reader comfort#astarion x reader fluff#astarion fluff#baldur's gate 3#bg3
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Zoning Out With Them Tokyo Revengers
Featuring: Chifuyu Matsuno, Kokonoi Hajime, Taiju Shiba, and Souya Kawata.
Genre: Fluff
Synopsis: You zone out while spending quality time with your boyfriend.
Chifuyu enjoyed spending time with you, even if it was just him reading and you playing on your phone. Your presence was much appreciated after a rough day of school and doing things with his friends, and Peke J wouldn't complain about you giving him chest scratches.
It wasn't until the black cat jumped in his lap that he noticed the same sound kept coming from your phone, a video on loop. Peke J was pretty upset that you had stopped petting him, but Chifuyu could see your hand stretched out as if the cat was still there.
"Y/n?" He reached out and shook your knee, snapping you out of it.
You looked up at him, your arm falling back to your lap, "What?"
Chifuyu laughed, patting your knee and returning to his previous position, "Ya' zoned out, weirdo."
It wasn't anything new or surprising for Kokonoi to bring you to work with him. Something about having you next to him as he checked papers and counted cash, occasionally asking you to double check numbers, and having everyone see you when they stopped by for a brief moment, it only cultivated Koko's ego.
His fingers rubbed absently at your back, helping him feel more than hear your massive sigh.
"Are you alright, love?" He asked. When you failed to respond, Koko diverted his attention to you. He could've pissed himself if you were glaring at him like that.
His dark eyes inspected your face. Knit brows, relaxed lips, soft gaze that tracked something slowly up the side of the wall. For a moment, Kokonoi let himself watch you, your mind gone from where you sat and somewhere deep in thought. As much as he loved knowing your mind felt safe enough to wander, he didn't like the way you glared.
"Hey." Koko lightly slapped a band of cash on your nose, chuckling as you jerked backwards, "What has your mind running away from me, sweetheart?"
You giggled, and Koko swore his heart stopped for a second as your eyes closed, "I was thinking about what to make for dinner."
Asking for something twice wasn't something Taiju was good at, nor was it something he wanted to do. When he asked you to go and grab him something and you didn't even respond to him, he was nearly thrown for a loop. You always responded to him, you were always alert to the things around you.
"Y/n?" Taiju leaned over the back of the couch, brushing your hair aside to look at your face, "Can you hear me?"
"Huh? Yeah..." He could tell you weren't actually listening, your eyes looked almost dead, "What did you need?"
He sighed, swiveling your head and watching as your pupils refocused. "Hm?" You looked into both his eyes, "Sorry, what did you need, Taiju?"
Taiju rubbed your head, his worry vaporizing, "Nothing...I'm already up anyway."
It was weird for you to stare. You hated when people stared and it bothered you even more when people were staring at you. It was confusing as to why in the world were you sitting at the lunch table, staring at Souya?
The poor boy didn't know how to bring it up or how to gain your attention. He looked over at his twin, who was, of course, busy slamming a bowl of spicy ramen. "Smiley? What do you do when someone has zoned out?" Souya asked quietly.
His brother paused, "Let them be?"
"Uhm...what if they're staring at you?" Souya glanced back across the table. Nahoya laughed, "Ew, how weird. Hey!"
Nahoya kicked you under the table, making Souya glance fretfully between you and his twin. But you just hissed and turned to glare at Smiley, "What the hell?"
"You're staring like a creeper." Nahoya went back to his bowl, "You made Angry uncomfortable."
"Shit, sorry, Sou." You smiled, tapping his foot with yours, "Zoned out for a sec."
#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo revengers headcanons#tokyo revengers fanfiction#tokyo revengers x you#tokyo rev#tokyo revengers#tokyo rev x y/n#tokyo rev x you#tokyo rev x reader#chifuyu matsuno#matsuno chifuyu#kokonoi hajime#taiju shiba#souya kawata x reader#souya kawata#taiju shiba x reader#kokonoi x reader#chifuyu x reader#fluff#anime#manga#x reader#fanfiction
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