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whurnp · 1 year

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Ned Works Too Hard

An indulgent little scenario only barely recognizant of canon. I just love this wet napkin of a man and want to see people being nice to him. Crozier did not look up from the logbook at the entry of his First Lieutenant into the Great Room that evening. He knew he could always rely on Edward to deliver his daily report on the hour, steady and sure as clockwork.

Had he glanced up from his dotting of I’s, however, he might have spied the Lieutenant clatter his broad shoulder against the door jamb with uncharacteristic clumsiness as he entered. Had he broken himself away from the crossing of T’s, Crozier may have noted too the change in gait, the familiar ice-crunching stomp now an unsteady shuffle across the deck.

“Lieutenant?” Crozier queried amiably enough in greeting, still absorbed in the page before him.

“Sir…?” came the uncertain reply.

Now that was a change Crozier could not help but note. Gone the usual deep, warm burr and in its place a faltering, groggy croak. At the sound, he finally whipped his head up to behold the source and found himself shocked to silence.

First Lieutenant Edward Little looked, quite simply, dead on his feet.

Though the deck beneath him was ice-bound and still, he swayed, punch-drunk, as if in the wildest of storms, trembling uncontrollably in every long burly limb. His handsome face was transparently pale, dark hair utterly dishevelled and hanging over his furrowed brow in a manner that would be rakish and rather dashing on any other day but could not be less so now, stuck as it was to his pallid cheeks in odd little wisps that only rendered him boyish and intensely vulnerable. It was Edward’s eyes, however, by which Crozier found himself struck most. Dark, soft, and doe-ish, they were usually the young man’s finest feature, but they were changed now, wide yet barely focused, dull yet darting wildly in barely suppressed delirium and panic.

“Ned…?” It was Crozier’s turn now to croak in bewilderment and uncertainty.

Little’s dark glassy eyes flitted momentarily to the Captain’s horrified face though in truth he gazed not at Crozier but straight deliriously through him. “I’m… I’m sorry, sir…” he mumbled in an impossibly small and childlike voice before, without warning, his eyes rolled right up to the whites, his knees buckled beneath him, and he collapsed rather unceremoniously to the cold deck with a resounding thud and a flurry of papers.

Crozier was around his desk and on his knees before he even realised he’d moved, had tenderly brushed a great lock of unruly hair from Edward’s brow and reached to loosen the stock at the young man’s pale throat without conscious thought. He did not, in fact, even realise that he had hollered hoarsely for Jopson until the Steward appeared dutifully in the doorway, only to reel back himself in shock at the sight of the Lieutenant on the deck, loose-limbed and splayed out like a string-cut marionette.

“Fetch Dr McDonald please, Thomas.” Crozier instructed, managing to sound calmer than he felt, and watched momentarily as the young Steward took off down the passageway at a sprint before bringing his gaze downward again.

Gently, though not without a little effort to strain against the unconscious dead weight of the well-built man, Crozier lifted the Lieutenant’s tousled head up into his own lap. Edward did not appear to have suffered any grievous injury to Crozier’s eye and his great relief. His breathing was steady, although perhaps a little shallow and ragged, and as the Captain worked under layer upon layer of clothing to finally press his hand to the bare, warm, clammy flesh of Edward’s broad chest, he was relieved further still to feel the pounding of a heartbeat beneath his calloused palm.

Little did not stir an inch at the touch of the cold, rough hand but slumbered on, long dark eyelashes resting ever-so-lightly on ashen cheeks, handsome face as pale and exquisitely fragile as the finest porcelain. But for the faint furrow remaining in his dark brow, he appeared to Crozier almost peaceful in his oblivion. “All will be well, Ned, I’ll see to that…” He found himself muttering, pulling the Lieutenant closer to him in a clumsy embrace, cupping the young man’s pallid face in the palm of his hand, and brushing the odd strand of hair from his soft cheek in a manner he hoped and prayed would be of comfort. He was only roused from his reverie by the arrival of Jopson with the sprightly Scots medico McDonald close behind him.

Little also did not stir an inch as the three men worked to man-handle him off the biting cold of the deck and into the nearest warm bunk which happened to be Crozier’s. He remained firmly in his oblivion even as they hauled him upright, tousled head dropping heavily to his chest, to wrestle him out of his greatcoat and the layers upon woollen layers beneath until finally he lay, rather small and vulnerable all of a sudden, in nothing but his shirttails.

“He’s exhausted, Captain.” McDonald concluded matter-of-factly after his examination a few moments later, retreating out from the berth to the spot in the passageway Crozier had all but worn through with his pacing. “Total and complete enervation. I’m surprised the Lieutenant had the strength left in him even to reach your quarters. I can see no great underlying malady to cause it though, sir-“

“I can.” Interrupted Jopson, raising his head from the heavy ships rota he had collected at Crozier’s request. The Captain had wanted to know just what tasks his First Lieutenant had been undertaking before he was so suddenly cut down.

The answer, it became immediately obvious as Crozier took the book from Jopson and surveyed it himself, was all of them.

Or if not all of the tasks, then damned near close. A heretofore downplayed spate of Goldner-can-induced gut problems had plagued large swathes of Terrors in the preceding week leaving many a man and officer alike stuck groaning and miserable in their hammocks and berths and leaving poor Ned Little to all but tend the ship singlehandedly. With a storm raging and cutting them off from Erebite reinforcements, the rota showed the Lieutenant everywhere alongside the remaining healthy men – high up in the riggings surveying the ice one minute, down in the hold hauling coal the next, and out in the seracs and the biting cold directing hunting parties the next still. Totting up the hours in his head, Crozier could have wept. For days on end it seemed, the Lieutenant had barely had a moment to eat and drink, let alone to catch the slightest wink of sleep.

“The mad bastard even holystoned the damned deck…” Crozier muttered, horror-struck, under his breath.

And the Captain himself had been blind, utterly blind, to the young man’s efforts, too, he realised with another pang of guilt. Too lost in whisky and resentment, morbing on about this and that and failing completely to note the extent of the near ship-wide illness or the duties it would have left undone but for careworn and steady Lieutenant Little’s intervention. Ned had not complained nor seen fit to burden anyone else with his worries, least of all the Captain, as he had delivered his reports in the days preceding. He had simply pressed forward on and on until he could no longer.

Crozier entered the berth and dropped wearily onto the stool beside the bunk, plucking Edward’s warm, lax hand up from the sheet and giving a firm squeeze that he hoped dearly would convey love, respect, regret, and every other thing he couldn’t yet put into words to the worn-out and rather bedraggled young man curled up in the bunk before him. As he did so, he noted the fresh and red-raw scrapes and calluses on Ned’s hands and the dirt and bruises that seemed to mottle every scandalously exposed inch of pale flesh, put there by hard graft and toil.

“I must be alone again with my thoughts for a while, Thomas.” Crozier announced at last. “If you’d be so kind as to fetch me warm water and a rag, I’ll tend the Lieutenant a bit while I think…”

The bright-eyed young steward nodded in assent and departed once more to do as he was bid leaving only McDonald by the doorway, a soft and easy smile on his face.

“I have all manner of stimulants and pick-me-ups to choose from, Captain, but in truth I believe he just needs rest. Clean him up by all means, keep him warm, but most of all, just let the man sleep. I’ll be nearby, sir” he concluded as he shrugged on his greatcoat and made to exit the berth, “if there should be another stramash…”

Edward looked smaller and more vulnerable by the second as Crozier gently daubed the worst of the grime away to reveal the alabaster white flesh beneath. That he had clearly lost weight through his exertions did not help and it showed in every outstanding rib and hollowed clavicle. As the water gradually cooled, he at long last began to stir just a little and broke the Captain’s heart all over again when, eyes screwed shut and brow furrowed, he made a half-hearted attempt to squirm away from the chilly water with a low, pleading groan, every inch of him trembling with exhaustion. He was just conscious enough to feel the momentary discomfort but not conscious enough, and with simply no strength left in him to do anything about it…

After a long and pensive night, the first hints of the Arctic sunrise were just beginning to creep up over the horizon when Ned at long last opened his eyes again. First he scanned the low dark ceiling of the berth with a rather puzzled and querulous scowl but when his bleary gaze finally alighted on Crozier’s expectant face, all changed. At the sight of the Captain, Ned’s dark eyes widened, he lurched drunkenly upright in the bunk, and began to ramble, groggy and clearly agitated.

“I-I-I’m sorry, Captain, I’m the… I’m the worst kind of sorry…! What… w-w-what can I do for you, sir-“

As quickly as it began, the rambling was cut abruptly short as Ned’s trembling arms buckled almost immediately beneath him and he collapsed awkwardly straight back onto the pillow with a heavy whoomph. Crozier pressed a hand firmly to his shoulder to keep him there.

“Be easy, Ned… What you can do for me now is be easy and stay right where you are.”

“A-a-alright, sir… Although… although I-I-I don’t believe I know quite where I am…”

“It matters not, Ned, don’t you worry… Here, take this…” Crozier continued, reaching for the water glass behind him. Bewildered and reluctant though he may have been in the moment, Edward was also as weak as a new-born kitten and so had little choice but to consent the Captain to lift his weary head to help him sip at the cool water.

“Wh-what happened, sir…?” Edward began tentatively. His voice was still hollow and croaky with exhaustion but he was growing more reassuringly lucid by the second. “How did I-I-I get wherever it is I am? I’m… I’m afraid I don’t remember a damned thing after Up Spirits…”

“Well, I do hope you remember the week before that, Edward? The one where you worked yourself damned near to death? Even if you don’t recall fainting flat on your arse in my cabin you must surely remember that…!” Crozier tried to keep the reproachful tone out of his voice as he spoke. He knew he wasn’t angry at Edward, after all, but at himself.

“I do recall now, Captain…” Came the doleful reply. Edward raised a shaking, weary hand to brush a lock of dark hair from his brow with a sigh before he continued. “Forgive me… There just…there just didn’t seem to be a choice. There are so many men ill now, sir, that half the berth has become a sick-bay a-a-and with Erebus cut off from us in the storm…”

With that he trailed off and turned away for a moment, biting his lip, trying and failing to mask the tears welling in his tired and bleary eyes.

“It’s been a long winter, sir… Longer a-a-and lonelier than I ever thought possible…” Again, he faltered and again fell silent with dark brow furrowed and a flush of mortified pink creeping into his cheeks – the first sign of colour Crozier had seen in him for days.

“Go on, Ned… Please… You have nothing to fear. I’ve made myself your nursemaid tonight, I may as well be your confessor too.”

“I’ve never been more bloody miserable in my command, Captain, if it’s a confession you’re after.” At his third attempt, bolstered by Crozier’s words, Edward finally came at the matter plainly. “All I have here a-a-are my instincts and my training and I find my faith in both waning by the day. I’m peevish of the ship, e-e-even more so of the men aboard her. It seems the more I seek to do right by them, the more wrong I do myself… I’ve never… I’ve never felt weaker…sir.”

Crozier thought in silence for a long moment, looking at his own careworn hands before meeting Edward’s expectant gaze, his dark slumberous eyes shining in the lamplight.

“I’ve been in your place, Ned.” He began. “I’ve been in your place, and I know all too well what a lonely and uncertain one it can be. But have you ever stopped to think that what you see as weakness could in fact be your greatest strength?”

“Sir…?”

“I didn’t choose you as my second for you to rule with an iron fist and muscle through things with brute strength, Edward. Quite the opposite, in fact. I chose you for your level head and your tender heart. I chose you because you care about the men under your command, because you seek so earnestly to do right by them, because you would never ask of them something you wouldn’t contemplate doing yourself… It has never been clearer to me, in fact, that you will not shy from doing things yourself, Ned…!” Crozier added with a grin, feeling his heart finally beginning to lighten as the weary young man matched it and gave a surprised and bashful snort of laughter.

“The loneliness, the uncertainty… As hard as it is, Ned, it doesn’t last. Have the same faith in yourself that I have in you, that the men have in you… I would implore you to take courage too, but it is clearer to me now more than ever that you have quite enough already.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Ned murmured, a tear shining softly in his eye. “I… I believe that’s precisely what I needed to hear…”

“Having said all that though, Lieutenant…” Crozier continued – his heart lightened and the way before him clear as he made to rise from the stool and exit the berth, “Your actions did violate several of the Articles and for that there must be consequences…”

“Oh… o-o-of course, sir…” Edward replied resignedly, attempting once more to haul himself up onto his elbows and just about managing to remain there this time, despite the slight tremble in his triceps.

“The punishment for your violations is this: you are to remain confined to your berth for the next week, ideally tucked up and toasty in your bunk. You may summon and speak only to Jopson who may only fetch you more blankets, books from the library, or any fine victual you damn well please from my personal stores…”

Crozier paused momentarily in the doorway of the berth.

“Oh, and whisky, Ned…” He added, allowing the veneer of seriousness to fall from his face and a smile to replace it. “I shall be touching the stuff no longer from this moment on. It is your responsibility, Lieutenant, to consume as much of that as you damn well please too and save your Captain the temptation…!”

Those who did not know Ned Little well could be forgiven for thinking that the young man never smiled. It was true that his natural expression was a rakish and brooding one, that he could often become so intensely focused on, so earnest and resolute in his completion of the task at hand that he verged on severity. It was also true, Crozier knew now more than ever, that such intensity was a mask, a front to hide the anxiety and uncertainty that was part and parcel to being a leader of men. He again recalled the feeling he himself had known as a young Lieutenant, admitted to himself that he still felt it on occasion and none more so than last night.

Ned Little, however, did indeed smile and when he did, Crozier also knew, it was a glorious sight to behold. Beaming and unexpectedly roguish, it changed his whole face, softening every handsomely chiselled line of it to unabashed boyishness, immediately warming his dark slumberous eyes, crinkling the corners sweetly. It lit up his face, then lit up the room, and on this particular morning, Crozier thought to himself as he exited the berth, heralded too by the Lieutenant’s roaring laughter, Ned’s smile outshone the bright Arctic sun itself.

#the terror #the terror amc #lieutenant little #edward little #ned little #francis crozier #whump #h/c #hurt/comfort #matthew mcnulty #jared harris #my sweet boy #absolute wet napkin of a man #i just want everyone to be nice to him #i just want him to be happy #downtrodden and miserable first then happy later #fainting

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whumpcember · 5 months

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Welcome back to Whumpcember!

Or if you're new, welcome!

This is the second ever Whumpcember event and I am happy to be running it again! I am so thankful for all the support for last year's Whumpcember and for everyone who filled out the prompt list form! I hope everyone has a wonderful writing Whumpcember, and now, onto the rules!

Prompts should be answered with whump as the main focus

Fanfic! Gif! Text post! Fanart! Fan video! Any piece of media that you can possibly make that has whump counts!

You can use the prompts any time! Don't feel the need to rush

Though, prompts answered during December will most likely be reblogged

Post anywhere! AO3, Wattapad, Tumblr, or even Fanfic.Net! So as long as you make a Tumblr post with a link to the answered prompt it may be reblogged.

When posting onto Tumblr you can either @ the blog or tag with #whumpcember2023 and the day's tag, such as #whumpcember2023 day1

Don't forget to add any warnings necessary, such as NSFW or sexual content

An AO3 Collection will go out on December 1 and close January 1, it's not mandatory, but if you want your works saved in a collection, make sure you get it in on time!

At the end of the month a masterpost will go out to all participants and a badge you can save stating that you are either a participant or completionist. In order to be on the masterpost though, you will have to fill out a google form at the end of month; don't worry it'll take two minutes!

If you have any more questions, send me an ask, but please read the FAQ first!

Written Prompt list below:

-Main Prompts-

Day 1: Fever

Day 2: Sickness

Day 3: Hypothermia

Day 4: Hidden Injury

Day 5: Impaled

Day 6: Nightmares

Day 7: Fainting

Day 8: Isolation

Day 9: Brainwashing

Day 10: Freezing

Day 11: Infection

Day 12: Touch Starved

Day 13: Restraints

Day 14: Cornered

Day 15: Hallucinating

Day 16: Head Injury

Day 17: Fire

Day 18: Chronic Pain

Day 19: Exhaustion

Day 20: Drugged

Day 21: Choking

Day 22: Seizures

Day 23: Nosebleed

Day 24: Bullet

Day 25: Coma

Day 26: Collapse

Day 27: Bleeding Out

Day 28: Abandoned

Day 29: Paralyzed

Day 30: Delirium

Day 31: Homeless

-Alts-

Alt 1. Stabbed

Alt 2. Forced to Watch

Alt 3. Drowning

Alt 4. Ice

Alt 5. Sacrifice

Alt 6. Concussion

Alt 7. Hunger

Alt 8. Tears

Alt 9. Begging

Alt 10. Abused

#whumpcember2023 #whumpcember2023 prompt list #whumpcember #whump #whump prompts #prompts #writing prompts

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ailesswhumptober · 8 months

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Prompts for AI-less Whumptober 2023

It’s finally time! These are your official prompts for AI-less Whumptober 2023! We have 31 days of wonderful whump prompts. Each day has a set of 3 different prompts to choose from! Alternative prompts will be posted under the cut.

Happy whumping!

Here are the alternative prompts for AI-less Whumptober 2023! There is one alternative prompt for every day in October.

AI-less Whumptober 2023

Drugging / sick / poisoned

Overworked / insomnia / Exhaustion

Sensory deprivation / overstimulation / isolation

Hiding an injury / betrayal / lying

Hostage / kidnapping / Held at gunpoint

Conditioning / mind control / forced to hurt someone else

Flatline / Restrained / CPR

Panic attacks / Dissociation / Seizure

Scar reveal / Interrogation / Presumed dead

Branding / Scarring / collar

Fainting / Paralyzed / Adrenaline

Self harm / Sacrifice / Character death

Earthquake / Flood / Crushed

Bleeding through the bandage / Field medicine / no anesthesia

Experimentation / Muzzle / transformation

Amputation/ chronic pain / Hospital

Hypothermia / heat stroke / “You look a little pale”

Fever / vomiting / Warm soup

Taken for granted/ Left behind/ “Why wasn’t I enough?”

Dehumanization/ Stockholm Syndrome/ Master and servant

Blood loss / shock / Near death experience

Whipping / Punishment / Stress position

Begging / “Take me instead” / Forced to watch

Failed escape / hunted down / Too exhausted to keep running

Nightmares / Flashback / “Why didn’t you save me?”

Magical exhaustion or injury / Curse / Came back wrong

Forgotten/ Locked away/ Immortal Whumpee

Hair pulling / Oxygen Deprivation / Sweating

“The easy way or the hard way?” / Bargaining / Forced to choose

Possession / Mind Games / Coma

PTSD / Headaches / Crying Here are the alternative prompts for AI-less Whumptober 2023! There is one alternative prompt for every day in October.

Bloody knuckles

Gunshot wound

Separated from loved ones

Drowning

Blackmail

Crying to sleep

Disowned by family

Electrocution

Forced feeding

Bullied

Suffocation

Abandoned

Grief

Human Shield

Self-defense

Lab rat

Memory loss

Misunderstanding

Hypnosis

Mutilation

Mouth stitched shut

Nerve damage

Nervous breakdown

Words carved into skin

Stalked

Non-Consensual touching

Paranoia

Peer pressure

Prison

Silent treatment

Truth serum

#ailesswhumptober2023 #whump prompt #whumptober #whump #whump community #whump tropes #prompt list

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bubble-dream-inc · 1 year

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i walk the line.

You had joked with Ghost before about getting married, never with a tone serious enough for it to be taken into account, even if it was something you dreamed about whenever you were alone with your thoughts. What you hadn’t expected was the question to come up at such an inopportune time.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Sergeant Reader

rbs greatly appreciated!

WC: 2.1 K

a/n: i hate giving my fics titles so just assume the song in the title is the vibe i want the fic to have lmao. also this is unedited and not beta read so beware of typos and shit

warnings: estabilished relationship, profanity, whump, description of wound, mentions of death, badly timed marriage proposal, medical inaccuracies, fluff, happy ending

It’s cold.

No, scratch that. It’s fucking freezing.

God, you hate the cold. Considering how much you despise it, it amuses you to think you might have been a desert creature in another life. A lizard, maybe. The types to scurry really fast and eat small insects all day. What a life.

You’re lost in your musings but you think there are a few very faint voices calling for you. Where are they coming from? Above? Seems like it. First, you hear their voices getting clearer, and recognize a word. It’s your codename, meaning, it’s your teammates voices. But why do they sound so agitated? Next, you feel pain. Quickly rising, scorching hot pain in your abdomen.

Oh, that’s right. You were shot.

A scream echoes out wherever you are and only later you’d recognize it as your own, in the same moment you recognize Ghost’s own booming voice frantically calling out for you, and the heavy weight of Soap’s large hands holding you down so you wouldn’t trash as much. It had been ironic, really, how much the mission went smoothly, 99% of it being completed without a hitch, but right as you were about to celebrate success, some fucker neither of you had seen before had decided to put a bullet in you - any of you - blindly, and it so happened it would hit you. The offender was long gone, a throw knife lodged in his skull as quick as a blink of an eye in the split second after the gunshot was heard, but the damage was already done. A few seconds before it happened, you had groaned how much you couldn’t wait for evac to come so you could take a hot shower and sleep, since your bones were aching, and Gaz had laughed and called you old-spirited. So much for that shower, you think as you take in the surroundings of what you could see of the abandoned safe house from your position on the blood stained table. It was painful to think about if that same table was used in the past for a family reunion or to gather folks around for good news, before hell broke loose and war tore apart the people, so you didn’t think about it. Ghost called your codename again and you cast your eyes downwards to look at him, the fear in his eyes sending a chill down your spine.

“Hey! Talk to me, don’t you dare close your eyes!”

You had screamed as he was removing the projectile from your flesh, you realized. Was not your first rodeo, a thought that made you want to laugh bitterly, but just the idea of laughing made you wince in pain. His hands were currently trying to stop the bleeding, and after taking one look at the wound, you suddenly felt at peace.

It was pretty shitty you were going to die in an equally shitty safehouse, but that’s the life you chose. So, against your better judgment, you chuckle lowly and decide to follow your superior’s orders.

“Keep talking, eh? Alright.” You groaned once more when he applied more pressure to your gaping wound. “L.t, do you- do you remember when i told you…I wanted to retire early and - fuck - get to the countryside and get a big ass dog?”

He looked up at you briefly, glad you were talking but clearly wondering where you were going with this. You knew he hated when you spoke of the future as if you were going to die - which, right now, you were pretty sure it was really happening this time - but you couldn’t help yourself. Of course he remembers that conversation, it was in the beginning of your secret-not-so-secret relationship. You had asked him what he would do if he wasn’t a soldier, and he had given you a very cryptic and vague answer that resembled a lot like nothing. In turn, you told him your wishes half heartedly, as if thinking of living for 10 more years was a very distant dream.

The relationship between the 141’s Lieutenant and one of its Sargeants was a sort of urban legend going around. People knew it was happening, but didn’t dare speak of it, and no one had ever really seen any proof of it, so, it was best to avoid prying into Ghost’s private matters as to not risk being at the receiving end of his annoyance, and, in turn, you both found solace in having something that only the two of you knew about. It never hindered your professionalism and it had been going on for a few good years now, so it became somewhat naturalized between the folks coexisting in the same space as you and Simon after a while. However, that never stopped the natural curiosity to flourish in a few people - namely, your comrades, who always knew there was something going on given the fact you’d literally look at your superior with hearts in your eyes - so you had to ignore Gaz and Soap’s expectant eyes on you as you spoke so tenderly, the intensity of witnessing the start of what seemed like a very intimate talk momentarily sharing space with the worry they were feeling over you.

“...Yes. I remember.”

He never forgets the things you say, even if you think it’s not important at the time. You hummed, ignoring the pain that came with it.

“Big dogs were never really my thing. I just-” A cough ripped out of you, and you didn’t need to look to know there was blood in it. “ I just thought it was the kind of thing you’d want. Big dogs fit you. It felt less scary to think about retiring once I added you in the equation.”

You were slurring your words and you knew it. As you regained your breath, you briefly saw a very wide-eyed and angry looking Price curse into his comm asking where the fuck was the goddamn chopper. Your codename being barked alongside the word “WIA” to a poor fellow soldier on the other side of the line left you with a bad taste in your mouth. You hate how scared Ghost looked, your big, scary, stoic Ghost, and you can’t help but feel selfish for leaving him, even if being shot was not your fault and wasn’t really in your plans when you left the base that morning.

“Stop talking like you’re fucking d-”

“We could have done it, you know?” Your laugh is, once again, bitter, and you’re acutely aware of the tears streaming down your face. Death has never scared you, but now that you got a reason to stay, you’re terrified. “Could’ve gotten hitched somewhere nice. Can’t really imagine you in a suit, though.”

The pain doesn’t stop, but it gets duller as you feel your consciousness slipping away, and you never fought so much to stay awake in your entire life. Simon yells something to Soap among the lines of getting something from somewhere so he can continue trying to save you, but you don’t register his words. His tone softens once his eyes are back on you.

“I’d wear a suit if you asked me to, sweetheart.”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask, though.”

Not caring there are other people in the room, you smile at him, well aware it must be uncanny to see Ghost be so tender towards another person, but again, you were the lucky one who got to see it every time it was just the two of you, so you got used to it with time.

Your vision starts spinning more and more, and your eyes start to close the moment you hear the familiar, faint sound of a helicopter getting closer, Simon’s big hands suddenly on your face to try to keep you grounded, and he sounds even more exasperated than before. He calls your name - not your codename, for once.

“Stay alive, do you hear me?! You gotta stay the fuck alive so i can take you to the bloody countryside and get bloody hitched-”

“You askin’ me to marry ya’ in my deathbed, sir?” You manage to slur out, your smile growing despite the panic you don’t have the energy to express settling in your bones, and Simon’s eyes widen even more behind the mask.

“Yes, I am, so stay with me, that’s a fucking order-”

You chuckle, closing your eyes as the frantic sounds around you all blur into a garbled mess. Faintly you feel your body being moved around, a strong wind on your blood and dirt caked hair, hear some more shouting, but then,

Silence.

——————————

Feels like the thousandth time you have woken up, and the feeling of coming in and out of consciousness is unbearable at best.

The first time - or the second, you don’t remember - there was a strong light above you, but you had no energy to open your eyes, so it lasted a measly second before you were out again. Later, you heard an unfamiliar voice saying something about an induced coma for a few days for a better recovery. You wondered if they were talking about you (they probably were). This happens a few more times before you actually feel your consciousness coming back for good, and, before you open your eyes, the first thing you notice is how warm it is, and, if you could, you’d smile. The spring air smells good, and you think you catch a whiff of cleaning products while you inhale, suddenly aware of how empty your lungs felt. The third thing you notice is the weight on your hand, and once you open your eyes, you find a familiar set of skeleton gloved hands on top of your own. A few years back you had told him with a laugh the print was very 2000’s, and he had just brushed you off with a scowl, but you’ve never been so glad to see the tacky thing. His thumb caresses your skin as he patiently waits for you to become more aware of your surroundings, and you instantly smile when you finally meet his gaze, which looks extremely relieved.

“Hi.” Your throat feels parched, voice straining as if you’d swallowed a kilo of sand, but Simon thinks your voice never sounded so sweet to his ears.

“Hi.”

It hurts to move, but you do so anyway, slowly sitting up despite Simon’s protests just so you can see him more clearly and grasp his hand a little better. While you are busy cringing at the dull pain in your stomach from the stitches, he extends a glass of water for you, to which you grab and gulp down immediately, quenching your thirst and looking over at your partner with such gratitude an onlooker would have thought he was a literal godsend.

“How bad is it?” Your voice still felt rough from disuse, but at least it sounded a bit more familiar to your ears.

“Pretty bad.” He doesn’t bother you with details; he knows you were never a fan of hearing about your wounds descriptively. “But you’ve always been tough.”

You flash him a grin that has him silently flabbergasted both with how beautiful you are and how quickly you seem to bounce back from a near fatal injury. Suddenly, you remember your last words before you blacked out, and your smile turns shy as you cast your gaze down to where your hands meet.

“...Did you mean it?”

Simon has always been extremely observant and smart, he knows what you are talking about immediately, and you like to think he is smiling under the mask as he goes back to gingerly caressing the top of your smaller hand with his thumb.

“I did, sweetheart.” His voice is low, and every time he calls you a pet name it has your heart doing somersaults. “I’m sorry I don't have a ring yet and I don't know when we would have some time off to have a ceremony, but I want to marry ya’. If you’ll have me, that is.”

Feeling like your smile would grow so big it would rip your face, you beamed at him, acutely aware of how you must have been looking like a mess with a - hospital - bed head and tired eyes, but you’d hoped he could notice the hearts in your eyes as obviously as you felt them. Things always seemed to fall in place with Ghost; no need for extravagance or huge acts, and the fact that your marriage proposal was exactly that, made you fall even more in love with him. You watched lovingly as he raised your hand to press a mask covered kiss on the top of it, and shook your head, laughing gently.

“Of course i’ll marry you, Simon.”

#capy.writes #cod #cod mw22 #cod mwii #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod modern warfare #cod modern warfare 2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reade #simon riley x reader #cod ghost x reader

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samwhump · 29 days

Text

a (very inexhaustive, wincest-heavy) sam whump reclist

@transfemmesam asked me for Sam whump recs a few days ago, and I've had other requests in the same vein before (I can't imagine why.../s) so I thought I would throw this together, since these authors deserve all of the love and support for their contributions to our li'l fandom corner.

like I mentioned in the title, this is not at all a comprehensive list; I have at least ~200 more fics in my to-read queue that could thematically fit here, but alas, I have stupid shit like a job and a body and a dog to take care of, so. I'm always happy to get recs along these lines, so if you notice anything important missing, hit me UP. (and don't take any omissions as any specific commentary by me -- it's likely I just haven't had the chance to read it yet, haha.)

disclaimers:

some (most, honestly) of these contain potentially triggering and dark content, including but not limited to rape/noncon, torture, and suicidal attempts & ideation. I have tried to note content warnings where applicable, and most of the works are hosted on ao3, so the tags should have most of the information you need to make an informed decision. that being said, tread with caution. all of the summaries provided are from the original author, with warnings added after by me.

the list is in alphabetical order and separated into wincest and gen categories. a lot of the gen is also focused on the sam & dean relationship, because...I am what I am. and what I am a sucker for these two dipshits. there is also a brief section at the end with a few fics that don't fit into either category.

gen

All That Goes Unspoken by amnesiawife:

A case forces Sam to confront something long kept buried. (Set nebulously in season 12.)

CW: discussions of past rape/noncon, victim blaming

Beneath the Trees 'verse by Lise (5 works total, starting with Beneath the Trees, Where Nobody Sees):

Sam doesn't go to Stanford. Everything goes downhill from there.

CW: suicidal ideation

a boy is a cage by ad_castra:

After expelling Gadreel from Sam's body, Dean thinks they're in the clear. If only they were that lucky. // S9 fic wherein Gadreel's grace causes some adverse side-effects in Sam's mind.

CW: past referenced rape/noncon, body horror

body of proof by Askance (doomcountry):

There are things Sam hasn't told his brother. They're all in the envelope laid on Dean's pillow.

CW: heavy discussion of past rape/noncon

break these bones 'til they're better by redskyatmorning:

After Sam’s torture at the hands of the British Men of Letters, the latest in a long string of violations, he is rescued by Dean and Mary – and forced to ponder his broken relationship with his own body. Months later, when Sam is resurrected and tormented by Lucifer yet again, Dean confronts Mary and Sam gets his revenge against the devil.

catching my death (staring out an open window) by ad_castra:

Sam gazes at the window, catches the faint pink hue tinting the sky. It’s so realistic - he could breathe in the fresh air if he were really here. ----- They got Sam out. Sometimes, just knowing that isn't enough.

CW: implied past rape/noncon

Death of Convenience by WilsonTheMoose:

It should have been easy. Wendigos are no joke but daylight slows them. The weather's been unpredictable though and perfect, idyllic hunts don't exactly stay that way where they're concerned. Or Sam has one card to play and never stops to think that Dean would care if he killed himself.

CW: suicidal ideation, references to suicide

Echoes of Hell by The_Nightbreaker:

It wasn't real. He wasn't in Hell anymore. That's what he tried to tell himself over and over. But two centuries of torture don't disappear in a day. Sam struggles with visions of Hell, fighting to maintain his grip on reality. Dean hates that he can't protect his brother from what isn't real—but curse him if he doesn't try. When the boys stumble on a case with ties to the Devil himself, will they be able to pull themselves together in time to stop the sacrifices? Or will the echoes of Hell finally overtake them? Aka, season 7, but the plot is Hell trauma, not leviathans.

CW: suicidal ideation

Evening Shadows by withthekeyisking:

Sam is hallucinating the monster who tortured him for nearly two centuries, Dean feels like he's failing his brother, and a diner waitress bears witness.

CW: past rape/noncon

Everything Dies Given Time by Lise:

AU from 5.03. Sam discovers something wrong with himself, and learns to live with it. Only a lot less functional.

CW: suicide/temporary character death

The Freedom to Be Loud by jribbing:

It hadn’t occurred to Dean that maybe Sam remembered so much about that little nowhere town because something memorable had happened there.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

golgotha by redskyatmorning:

There’s a vacancy on the throne of hell, and Sam is desperate enough to save Dean from Michael’s possession to give into the abyssal depths of his own darkness.

Head Space by ameliacareful:

A witch curses Sam leaving him blind, deaf, and bedridden. Left with only the inside of his own head and the occasional touch, Sam begins to unravel.

CW: suicidal ideation

Hiraeth by inkandpaperqwerty:

(n.) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past "Dean... I made a really big mistake." For a second, Dean actually thought things were going okay. He was out of Hell, Sam agreed to stop drinking demon blood, they had just wrapped up a successful hunt... for once, everything was okay. And then it wasn't. "I overdosed." Not at all.

CW: suicide attempts, suicidal ideation

if i could leave (i would've already left) by serendipity0930:

“I have a mission from God for you,” the Angel whispers to the man. “It is time for you to do what you were born to.” The man’s face twists into a smile, delighted over being chosen by Him, a purpose from God digging into his heart, carving out a place to fester. “Hunt.” ... 05x03 AU where Zachariah is even more determined to keep the brothers apart and hunters are all too willing to take Lucifer's True Vessel off the board for good

CW: referenced suicide

It's A River (But Not In Egypt) by Lise:

He's still a liar. Maybe always has been.

CW: toxic Sam/Lucifer dynamics

Kindred Instruments by PinBitch:

They’re in a tug of war and Sam is the rope. He doesn’t need to be alive for that. OR Sam dies in detox, being flung against the walls of a metal box will do that to you. Dean and Ruby pick up the pieces.

CW: temporary main character death, permanent supporting character death

lazarus trick by katsidhe:

Sam's alive, so everything is gonna be okay. 13.22 coda.

Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence by Lise:

Sam's back. He's in one piece. That's the problem.

CW: self-harm

love is like ghosts by redskyatmorning:

I’m poison, Dean had said instead of I’m sorry. Well, Sam wants to say, what does that make me? What the hell does that make me? (A look into Sam's mind in the aftermath of the Gadreel possession.)

The Other Brother by RadioFriday:

Sam and Adam are pulled from the cage at the same time. Sam is not right, and Adam, stuck as his caretaker, is not pleased.

Oxygen by inkandpaperqwerty:

“Cas! Cas, please! Please, answer me! Cas!” Castiel ignores Dean for several minutes, but then Dean gives him an opening that might help him complete his mission. So, he goes to investigate, and what he finds is a very bloody, nearly dead Sam. Dean tells him where the injuries came from, and Castiel quickly becomes confused. It doesn't make sense, but Dean tries to explain it to him, and slowly... Castiel begins to understand.

CW: suicide attempt

Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc by AmberSock:

Sam waits, kneeling, for his execution. What if Dean hadn't missed?

CW: temporary character death

Safety In Distance by GalaxyThreads and SpiritClusters:

The Mark of Cain is a brand of violence. Sam was an idiot to think that he'd be exempt from it, just because he and Dean are siblings.

sometimes a kind of singing by adi_rotynd:

Sam gets cursed. They're dealing with it. Jack can see souls. That one they're not dealing with quite as well.

CW: past referenced rape/noncon

Soul Windows by GalaxyThreads and Spirit Clusters:

A few months after his birth, Jack learns how to see souls. Then he comes to a realization about the Winchester brothers, Sam in particular, and it's not a pleasant one. (gen)

Starry Night by keepcalmsmile:

Sam attempts suicide-by-monster. Dean tries to help. It sort of works...until it doesn't.

CW: suicide attempts, suicidal ideation

such fragile, broken things by The_Bookkeeper:

Sam wishes that Dean would just get it over with already.

The Tale of Sir Galahad by keepcalmsmile:

Sam once said he could never be clean like Sir Galahad. Dean assumed he was just talking about the demon blood. Turns out, Sam was talking about something else too. WARNING: Extended discussions of the aftermath of rape and childhood sexual abuse (but NO description of the actual events). Happy(ish) ending, but potentially very triggering.

CW: past rape/noncon, mentioned CSA

They Hammered in His Teeth by jribbing:

Sam has a secret.

CW: suicidal ideation

today's troubles (are history tomorrow) by a_good_soldier:

"It's not really something I know how to share," Sam had said. In which Dean figures he ought to help Sam out a bit.

Touch and Go by themegalosaurus:

Tag to 9.19 (Alex Annie Alexis Ann) in which Dean realises why, exactly, Sam is so angry about what happened with Gadreel.

trust fall by ad_castra:

“I’m nothing like you,” Sam hisses. Nevermind relating to the anguish of going it alone. Nevermind that he knows what it is to be strapped down and forcibly cleansed against his will. Sam wonders if these trials are purifying Crowley as well.

Words Like Glass by broken_cinders:

Dean never figured the cage wouldn't leave a mark. He was prepared for memories, flashbacks, and nightmares. He wasn't expecting the words Sam brought back with him or the way they made him seem just a breath beyond Dean's reach.

Wound and Unwound by fascra:

Sam stops eating spring of his freshman year.

CW: eating disorder

wincest (dean/sam)

Brittle by thecapn:

Sam Winchester has an eating disorder.

CW: eating disorder

Don't You Cry No More by sixtysevenlmpala (schittyfic):

The first time Sam gets badly hurt on a hunt, he doesn’t cry. Dean does.

Fall On Your Knees by dollylux:

Sam doesn't quite make it home on the last day of school before winter break.

The Fall Will Probably Kill You by killabeez:

Set between 7.04 and the aftermath of 7.07. Dean is not as okay as he'd like you to think. Neither is Sam.

CW: self-harm

Feels so good to feel again by Trojie:

The pain keeps Lucifer at bay, at least to start with.

Follow In Your Form by withthekeyisking:

Sam is hallucinating Lucifer in the wake of Cas bringing his Hell Wall crashing down. To make matters worse, it seems like this has his dormant powers flaring back to life.

Last Temptation by merle_p:

Sam is running a fever again, the kind of fever no Ibuprofen or cold compress will bring down, the kind of fever that is eating him up alive, eviscerating him from the inside. He is too hot and too cold and too pale, delirious and shaking, resonating with whatever divine energy the trials are subjecting him to, and Dean is not sure how much longer he can stand to see him be in this state. Because Sam is quite possibly dying, and there is nothing Dean can do to stop it. Because Sam is dying, and he just. Won’t. Shut. Up.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

leeches by Anonymous:

Sam discovers a spell to make everybody forget him. He’s convinced it’s for the best. Pre-Stanford.

CW: attempted kidnapping/torture

Make Thick My Blood by themegalosaurus:

“You’re going to kill me, Dean,” Sam says, eventually. And all Dean can say is, “I think I am.” A season 10 AU, set after 10x14 ('The Executioner's Song'). Cas finds a solution that might cure the Mark of Cain; but if they're going to go through with it, Sam has a terrible price to pay.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

Prophecy of an Abomination by ashitanoyuki:

Sam is kidnapped by fanatically religious hunters and crucified. Coming back from this won't be easy. Canon-divergent from midway through season 2.

Recall by De_Nugis:

Sam's having a hard time telling what's real and what isn't, especially when it comes to some voicemails from Dean.

The Room Upstairs by brokenlittleboy:

Sam comes back from hell, but he’s inside-out and all wrong, and Dean can’t fix him.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

Ruin You (and its companion fic Worth) by Mumble_Bee:

Cole fucks Sam with Demon!Dean watching from a devil's trap, snarling that anyone would dare touch what was his. “I told you I don’t care what you do to his face or his blood or his fucking nose,” Dean growled, “but you put your dick anywhere near him and I will end you.” “Better hurry up then, Dean, because I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

CW: explicit rape/noncon

Snowed In by HelloStarlingFics:

When working a case, Sam and Dean get stuck out in a shack in the woods when the snow comes in hard and fast. Trouble is, Sam’s hated the cold ever since the Cage. Time for Dean to step up and look after him.

Wake by minchout:

Gadreel has had Sam for four years, and Dean, lost in guilt and obsessed with finding a way to get his brother back, has isolated himself in a cabin in the Missouri Ozarks with nothing but the woods, a stray dog, some chickens, and all the books the Men of Letters had to offer to keep him company. Then Sam shows up one day without his passenger, and Dean learns quickly that it doesn't matter that Sam is with him again - there is still a lot of work to be done before they can find their way back to each other.

Wanting to Forget by morganaDW (morgana07):

1-shot. S1 fic. After getting Sam freed from the Benders Dean thinks all he has to cope with is some bruises and cuts. He learns quickly just how wrong he is when Sam wakes up with a nightmare, reliving his brief but bad captivity in every detail. Sam just wants to forget & Dean has to try to get him to let him help. Will one night of cruelty and pain ruin what’s been formed between them?

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

when I wake up I'm afraid, somebody else might take my place by quake_quiver:

Sam doesn’t remember the last time he cried for Dean like he did that night. And now it’s been…two weeks. Maybe more. Sam is tired, and in pain, and starting to doubt that Dean’s going to show up. He’s weak and shaking from a combination of constant pain and hunger. Sam longs for Dean. Dean would make it better. Dean would fix it.

CW: rape/noncon, body horror

Wire Inside Me by merle_p:

There are a lot of things Sam hates about his current condition, to the point where he sometimes feels for the gun under his pillow at night, blindly toys with the safety, imagines pressing the muzzle into the underside of his chin and pulling the trigger just to make it stop. But there’s nothing he hates as much as the shadows he sees in Dean’s eyes whenever his brother is looking at him these days. It’s not an expression he remembers ever seeing before, but Sam thinks it’s probably something like revulsion. Horror. Disgust. What else could it be.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon, body horror, forced pregnancy

Worth (and its companion fic Ruin You) by Mumble_Bee:

Episode 10x01 "Black" where Dean is a human, and very, very, pissed off to hear someone has hands on his brother. “It’s nothing personal,” Cole whispered into Sam's ear, too quietly for Dean to hear, “but I need to kill your brother, and I need him off his game when he gets here. I don’t wanna hurt you, kid, but I’m going to, anyway. I’m going to hurt you a lot."

CW: explicit rape/noncon

you'll never see us again by according2thelore:

Then finally, his eyes trail over to Dean. His pupils are pin-point thin, and his hair is straggling in his face so Dean can’t see most of what expression lies there. Sam usually wakes up from nightmares in one of three attitudes: confusion, fear, or calm. A scary, sense-prickling calm that Dean hates more than anything else. Resignation, almost. Or: Sam suffers from nightmares and touch starvation post-Cage. They do their best to deal.

other Sam/Lucifer noncon

Cage Fight (No Way To Do This Right) by Dyed_Red:

Sam’s visit to the cage is already going awry, but Dean’s one-man rescue ends up skidding it sideways into territory neither him or Sam are ready for. (Gratuitous episode scene re-write. If Cas hadn’t come till after, if he hadn’t been there yet when Dean ran down to the 'parole' cage after hearing Sam scream - how bad could it have got for the brothers before he made it?)

CW: graphic rape/noncon

Into Being by withthekeyisking:

When Sam wakes up in the cave on Apocalypse World after having been killed by vamps, it's not just to find Lucifer there with him. It's to find him in him.

CW: graphic rape/noncon, necrophilia, forced pregnancy

Reggie/Tim/Sam noncon

a pointless resistance for you by withthekeyisking:

Sam doesn't know how long he's been with Tim and Reggie by the time Dean shows up and tries to take him out of there. Long enough that's he's already lost one baby and is pregnant with the next. Long enough that this life is starting to feel like all he knows.

CW: graphic rape/noncon, forced pregnancy & miscarriage, victim blaming

screaming birds sound an awful lot like singing by withthekeyisking:

Sam has done his best to move past what Tim and Reggie did to him, pretending it never happened at all. But running into them again makes that very difficult—especially when Dean gets involved.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

Waste 'Em All by withthekeyisking:

When Tim and Reggie try to force the demon blood down Sam's throat, he spits it back out. He has no interest in being turned into their own personal attack dog. They don't...take it well.

CW: explicit rape/noncon

#sam winchester #sam whump #supernatural #supernatural fic rec #wincest

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tightjeansjavi · 6 months

Text

Slow Hands | Chapter 8

“If I ever were to lose you, I’d surely lose myself”

A/N: This chapter has taken me weeks to write, but I am so happy with the final results. This is another doozy, so tread carefully. Thank you for your endless support and love. 🤍

~word count: 7.0k~

Pairing | Joel Miller x f! reader

Summary: Joel tells you what happened to him and Ellie before they returned to Jackson.

Warnings: angst, anxiety, trauma, mentions of death, child loss, grief, fluff, flirting, another almost kissing situation, lots of flashbacks, mentions of a miscarriage, mild alcohol consumption, Joel gets a little shy, hurt, comfort, protective! Joel, Joel whump, mentions of alcohol consumption, self deprecating thoughts/actions, anger, frustration, alluding to past traumas, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions, reader's nickname is beanie (coffee beans) +18, minors dni! heed the warnings please this is a very very heavy chapter.

main masterlist masterlist

Angie was a real sweetheart. A country classic that you’d want to play over and over again. Toffee butter sweet with pure southern charm. She was one of the kitchen staff ladies working in the mess hall. She loved to cook. She prepared food straight from her soul that warmed the hearts, and kept all the bellies full in Jackson. Her bubbly spirit was a decoy to mask her ceaseless grief that weighed heavy on her mangled heartstrings that were poorly sewn back together with a dull needle and thread. She recently went through a misscarriage. The brutal endless cycle of life in all its beauty and cruelty swinging like a pendulum. Angie was forever grateful when you and Joel appeared on her doorstep with Honey the fawn tucked protectively in your arms.

“She miscarried last fall. Right before the leaves started turnin.’” He whispered softly to you as he reached up and thrummed his knuckles against the chipped paint on the wooden doorframe.

Angie struggled to let go of her loss. She held onto the hand-me down infant clothes. The baby booties, swaddling cloths and the bottles. Grief causes even the strongest people to break as the world as they know it shatters around them. They try to claw and grasp what little remains of that person, whether they existed in the world yet did not matter. Angie took one look at that innocence bundled in your arms and she immediately darted off to the kitchen. She returned moments later with a swaddling cloth and baby bottle that showed the faint remnants of little hearts and flowers. The decals were peeling upwards like a bandaid, but it was a small token of kindness that this poor woman had to offer for the cost of nothing.

Joel thanked her with a gentle squeeze to her shoulder. Tender hands that could bruise, tender hands that could heal.

Angie only could nod as she quickly wiped away her dewy tears that rolled down her cheeks and dripped down the curve of her chin. Her eyes were glassy, her lower lip trembled under the soft blooming glow of the porchlight overhead. She reached one quivering hand out to gently stroke the soft fur on Honey’s head.

A moment of silence followed by the swishing sound of the front door slamming shut.

Oh, Angie. You deserved so much better than the cards you were dealt.

The walk back to Joel’s home was one in deafening silence. He kicked a stray rock along the ground with the toe of his boot as his arms hung at his slides. He appeared to be deep in thought as you tried to meet his gaze. He was as hard as a stone with furrowed brows. Grief was so prominent, even in a town that was built around ‘peace.’ Grief was there in every corner. Every crack and crevice down to a grain of rice. Even in a garden of Eden, grief sprouted from the stems.

“She likes you.” He murmured gently as he pushed open his front door with a soft huff through his chapped lips. “Honey.” He added.

“I hope she survives the night.” Was the first thought that popped up into your mind as you met his thoughtful gaze.

“She will. She’s n’good hands with you’n me.” He reassured you as his hand came to gently rest along your lower back as he nudged you tenderly inside as the front door softly swung shut behind you.

Honey had curiously peeked her head up from the safety of your flannel to observe her new surroundings as you slowly walked towards the well loved couch in the living area. Your knees cracked noticeably as you sank down onto the cushion.

“Y’want anythin’ to eat or drink while I warm some milk up for our little one?” Joel asked you as he padded towards the kitchen. Seconds later you heard the soft squeak of the refrigerator door opening as you sunk further into the plush cushions.

“Oh, that’s alright. Thank you for asking.”

“Not a problem, darlin.’” He hummed soothingly under his breath as he turned the burner on the stove. Once the milk was adequately warm, but not too hot, he poured it into the baby bottle. It was hard for a wave of nostalgia to not pass through him as he slowly blinked.

“S’matter baby girl? Y’want your baba? S’okay, daddy’s gonna get it for ya.” a considerably younger Joel spoke to baby Sarah in her crib. On the nights she couldn’t sleep, he’d fix her a warm bottle of milk and rock her to sleep on the old rocking chair that he and Tommy built with their bare hands. He’d sing lullabies in her ear and kiss her little head of soft curls.

Fuck.

He stared down at the baby bottle that was nearly engulfed by the sheer mass of his hand as his thumb slowly brushed across one of the peeling faded floral decals.

Fuck.

Keep it together, Joel.

Be still, my foolish heart. Be still.

Please.

God, please.

I’m good.

I’m fine.

Really, I’m okay.

God, she was so tiny.

Used to nearly fit in the palm of my hand.

Remember when she would cry and cry and cry?

Only person that could calm her down was you.

“Joel?” Your voice sounded so far from his reach as if he was across the ocean desperately trying to hone in the almost sweet music of your voice. Not here, not now. Please. He couldn’t shake the feeling of crisp trepidation as he slowly sunk down to his knees in the middle of the kitchen floor.

Breathe.

In and out.

Through your nose, out through your mouth.

Y’can do it.

She was so tiny. So pure. She was my babygirl.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to wail and throw his fists up towards the heavens but instead he sat in stoic silence as his ears rang like a mocking symphony that had him cowering from the harsh reality that he was presently facing.

“Joel?..” There you were again, but closer. Much closer as you went to investigate. The sight that laid before you took your breath away in a morbid fashion. Joel Miller on his knees looking like a man that had the weight of the world constantly pushing down on his aching shoulders. He was vulnerable in this state. He looked ten times smaller with his chin tightly tucked into his collarbone as if he was trying to appear as small as physically possible.

Your heart split in two to see him in this state as you slowly sank down to your knees in front of him. Grief was indescribable. It gnawed at a person with jagged teeth and sharp claws. A constant reminder that what you once held in your grasp, was no longer attainable. It was ripped from the roots, dry and brittle as precious life is stolen so swiftly.

His lips moved as he struggled to speak. To say anything, but nothing. No words could be formed as he stared down at the bottle in his hand. The slightest flinch from your unsuspecting touch upon his cheekbones as the palms of your hands gently caressed his face. “You okay?..” You asked in a hushed tone, keeping the octave of your voice level and gentle.

“No.” He murmured in defeat as his freehand slowly traveled up the length of your arm before resting along your cheek with the utmost delicate care.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You wanted to give him that choice. The open space to speak his feelings only if he chose to.

“Dunno. I jus’ needed to sit down.” He confirmed with a soft wheeze as he squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

“That’s okay, Joel. Sitting is good. It’s alright to rest. I’m right here.” You were, and you weren’t going anywhere.

“She was jus’ so tiny. Tiniest lil bean. With the cutest toes. A button nose. Used to have to give her a bottle at night when she couldn’t sleep. Would sit with her in the rockin’ chair for hours, singin’ her lullabies.” He croaked out as his chin slowly lifted as his dull faded eyes met yours.

You knew he was speaking of Sarah, and you also recognized his silent desperation for comfort. The baby bottle clutched in his trembling hand was the root cause for his current episode. Loss was so difficult to rationally explain sometimes. It was something that couldn’t be journalized as being the same for every person, because every single human being reacted in a different way. Loss was universal, and inevitable, but dealing with the grief that followed was structurally diverse in its nature.

“She was one lucky baby, getting to have you as her father. She loves you so much, Joel. She’s right here.” You slowly dropped one of your hands down from his face and gently rested it against the left side of his chest, right where his heart lay. “She’s always going to be right here.”

“Jus’ miss her so much. S’been creepin’ up on me lately. Feel like I’m seein’ her everywhere.” He felt discouraged as he slowly shook his head with a heavy sigh. “Thank you for being here with me. You don’t understand how much that means to me. To have..someone jus’ understand me.”

“I know how much you miss her, Joel. It’s better to let yourself feel everything instead of bottling it all up. I know how much it means to you. I’ll always be here to listen, for as long as you’ll have me.”

Hope to have you till the end of my days.

“Should–should probably give this to Honey before it gets too cold..” He trailed off as his thumb gently brushed across your cheekbone.

“Do you want to give it to her?..I bet she’d love it if you did. After all, you are the one who saved her.” You offered purely to encourage him only if he desired to.

“I’d love that. Help me up? Knees are feelin’ a little stiff.”

“Mine too.” You murmured as you slowly stood up and offered him your hand.

A ghost of a smile crossed over his features as he grasped your hand in his and pulled himself up from the floor.

He followed you into the living room where Honey was curled up in a fluffy little ball on the end of the couch. Her head perked up when she could smell the milk in the bottle as she struggled to stand on wobbly legs. Joel was right there to aid her as he gently scooped her up under his arm. Her fluffy little white tail wagged excitedly as she let out soft little bleating noises that sounded more like squeaks if anything.

“S’alright, baby. Got your bottle right here f’ya. Daddy’s got it for ya.” He softly cooed to the tiny creature.

You swore you saw a silent tear trail down his weathered cheek when Honey began to nurse from the baby bottle all the while he was gently petting down her tawny colored ears, and humming under his breath soothingly.

When Honey had consumed every last drop from the bottle she curled up right against Joel’s chest. She felt safe in the presence of you and Joel, which was quite obvious from the way she made herself right at home. Joel was careful to not disturb the sleeping creature as he reached his arm over and set the now empty bottle onto the nearby coffee table. The two of you fell into a comfortable relaxed silence, until the rumbling of Joel’s stomach interrupted it. The last meal he had was around breakfast time, and there wasn’t much substance to it. A cup of coffee, slightly rubbery scrambled eggs, and toast with butter. His appetite had been long forgotten since he and Tommy had stumbled upon the gruesome scene of the deceased doe while on patrol. Time seemingly had gone by in a whirlwind, and judging by the late evening light, it was far past dinnertime.

He shifted uncomfortably when his stomach rumbled again. This time it caught your attention from where you were sitting on the opposite end of the couch. You were currently reading one of Joel’s many coffee table books. Exploring Space, Dinosaur facts, The American Mustang, Woodworking for Dummies. You had chosen The American Mustang, and as soon as you heard his stomach grumble for the 5th time, you gently closed the book with your finger holding the page down before you looked over at him.

“Did you eat today, Joel?”

“Jus’ a bite of breakfast this mornin.’ Coffee, toast, and slightly rubbery eggs. Had the pan on a bit too high.” He softly responded as he lifted his chin slightly in your direction.

“I didn’t have much to eat today either. I could make us something?”

“Darlin,’ you ain’t gotta do that. You’re my guest after all. It wouldn’t be right if I just let ya cook f’me.” He was already attempting to gently lift Honey from her curled up position on his chest when you reached your hand out and gently grasped his forearm.

“Joel, it’s okay. I really don’t mind at all. We both should eat something.” You gave his forearm a reassuring squeeze before you pushed yourself up from the couch.

His eyes slowly followed your movements into the kitchen as he let out a deep sigh. “Y’know, it’s times like these where I wish that takeout still existed. What I wouldn’t do for a pizza right now.” He mumbled as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“Dominos, or Papa Johns? You better answer wisely, Miller.” You peeked your head around the corner with a playful smile playing on your lips.

“S’that even a question? Papa Johns. I’d order extra of those goddamn garlic sauces because the amount they gave you was truly never enough. I wish they would have started selling it in tubs or somethin.’” He stifled a chuckle. “Dominos was a last minute resort that I regretted every goddamn time.”

“That garlic dipping sauce was to die for. There was also that really good family owned pizza place on Main Street. Napoli Per Tutti I think is what it was called? They had the best Neapolitan pizza that I ever had the pleasure of trying.” You chatted casually as you opened his fridge.

“Darlin,’ you’re killin’ me over here with all this pizza talk. I actually never tried that place before. Sarah mentioned it a few times, but we Millers like to stick to our roots.” He chimed in as he managed to very carefully, and very gently, move Honey off of his chest and onto the couch where he then proceeded to cocoon her in a blanket that was draped across the armrest of the couch.

“I don’t know the first thing about making a Neapolitan pizza, but I can certainly try? That’s assuming that you have all the basic ingredients of course.” You could hear the wooden floorboards creak under the weight of his feet as you slowly turned around with your arms across your chest. “Just couldn’t stay away, huh?”

He sheepishly grinned and rubbed the back of his neck with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “Can’t stay away when there’s pizza involved, darlin.’”

“Fair enough. All we’ll need for the dough is flour, yeast, water, salt, and I think olive oil?”

“Well, we definitely have flour..water and salt. Olive oil maybe, but does it expire? I haven’t done much cookin’ around here lately so I really don’t know what I've got in the cupboards.” He stepped around you with his arm just barely grazing yours as he opened up one of the many cupboards in the kitchen. “I’ll be damned. Guess we do have yeast and olive oil jus’ layin’ around here.” He reached for the packet of yeast and the bottle of olive oil before setting them down on the counter.

There was something oddly comforting for the two of you to be putzing around the kitchen like an old married couple. You fit right into Joel’s domestic budding life without even grasping the idea of it just yet. You worked together at making the dough, but once it came down to the kneading part, you let Joel take over. Maybe it was your cheeky plan all along to see his hands at work, or perhaps it was totally innocent. Regardless, it was hard to not let your wandering eyes drift across his exposed skin where he had rolled up the sleeves of his flannel revealing strong, veiny forearms. Some areas of his skin were littered in scars, and indentations from years of survival, but his hands were the main part of the show. Strong, weathered, yet gentle as he didn’t want to knead the dough too much. The tendons in his fingers flexed as his eyes drifted upwards towards you.

Gotcha.

“Like what ya see?” He rasped with a teasing grin.

Fuck, were you really staring that long?

You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks as a nervous laugh bubbled up your throat. You struggled to find your words. “Joel, i’m so sorry I shouldn’t–”

“Hey, Beanie? S’alright. You can stare for as long, and as much as you’d like.” He reassured you with a slight nod of his head.

So, this is where you flirt back.

OH!

Right.

“You just..have really attractive hands.” You murmured softly.

Joel cocked a brow at your answer as he looked over at you. “My..hands? What about ‘em are attractive?” He held the same genuine curiosity like the time you had complimented his eyes.

“Well they’re just..strong looking? Maybe that’s not the right verbiage that I'm going for here.” You trailed off.

“S’you don’t mind that they’re a lil rough lookin'?’ Take this hand for example, I’m pretty sure it never really properly healed after I beat the livin’ daylights outta a FEDRA soldier shortly after Tess and I agreed to take Ellie to the fireflies. Sometimes I’ll get like these ghost pains n’my knuckles is what I like to call ‘em.” He shrugged as he grabbed a towel to wipe the flour off from his hands.

“No, I don’t mind at all. I’d honestly be surprised if your hands weren’t at least a little bit damaged. Y’know? I get what you mean with the ghost pains. I get them too, but usually in my wrists and ankles. It’s almost like a tingling sensation.”

Joel felt his heart slowly sink to the pit of his stomach like the sun gradually dipping behind the horizon. It was easy for him to draw the conclusion as to why you’d feel these sensations in your wrists and ankles. There were visible scar indentations along the inside of your wrists. Based on the scarred tissue, it was probably due to them being bound together by zip ties, rope, or possibly even chains. He felt a shiver roll down his spine when he remembered the charred women in the forest having their wrists and ankles bound together by chains.

“Well, I think your hands are beautiful too, Beanie.” He murmured.

I think you're more beautiful than the stars, sun, and moon combined.

You smiled at him. That same soft smile that sent his heart beat skipping every time he was graced by the simple beauty of it. It was as if there was a magnetic force between the two of you that was working on overdrive to bring the two of you closer in proximity.

“Thank you, Joel. I’ve got a real nasty nail biting habit that spurs up every so often. I guess..after you brought me home from the bar, I absolutely tore my nails to shreds, but I had no recollection of it happening..”

“If it makes ya feel any better, I also have a nasty habit of picking at the skin around my nails till it bleeds. Ellie’s yelled at me for it numerous times, but no matter what I do, I can’t stop.”

“Maybe we can help each other break these habits? Or, at least show encouragement when we’re struggling?” You suggested.

“Yeah, I'd like that a lot actually. It’ll be a good way to hold ourselves accountable. Lord knows I need to sometimes.” He agreed. “Well, this dough is gonna have to sit for a bit before we can roll it out..whad’ya wanna do in the meantime?” He had his hands resting along the edge of the countertop that was lightly dusted in flour as he awaited your response.

“That’s a good question. Do you happen to have any records? Maybe we could listen to one? I have a good feeling in my bones that you have impeccable music taste.” You mused with a small grin spreading across your lips.

“Y’know, I actually do have a box of records in the living room. They ain’t mine, unfortunately. They were here when I moved in. There’s a lot of classics in the collection though. I’m sure we can find somethin’ that we both enjoy.” He tilted his head towards the direction of the living room.

You let Joel lead the way as he showed you the box containing the records. There was everything from the Beatles, Prince, Queen, Zeppelin, Frank Sinatra, and so on. “Well,” You started, “whoever lived here, clearly loved their music.”

“Ain’t that right.” his tone was slightly rasped as you made yourself comfortable on the floor with your legs crossed.

“You want a pillow?” He asked softly. “Might be a lil’ more comfy.”

You gave him a small nod in response as you began to carefully flip through the record albums.

He grabbed two pillows from the nearby couch without disturbing Honey before he joined you on the floor.

“Who’s your favorite? I know it’s a tough choice t’make. I don’t even think I could narrow mine down to five.” He chuckled warmly as he rested his weight back on his hands.

“Oh, gosh. I also don’t know if I could narrow it down..Stevie is definitely at the top of my list.”

“Ah, yeah. She was incredible. I was a big fan of Linda Ronstadt back in the day. Although, growin’ up, there wasn’t a song or artist that I didn’t enjoy.”

You slowly looked over at him as your fingers gently played with a torn edge on one of the records. “Was music a big part of your life?..Before, y’know.” You chose your words carefully as you watched him take a deep inhale.

“Yeah, it was. Used to be a big dreamer, believe it or not. Always wanted t’be a singer. Taught myself how to play the guitar, wrote a few songs here and there. None of them were very good, but I got a lotta joy out of it. Then when Sarah was born, I knew I had’to hold down a real job, and push that dream to the backburner. Spent a lot of time playin�� the guitar for her though. She loved it. Used to tease me n’tell me that I had a god awful singin’ voice.” He snickered.

Your giggle was soft, sweet, floating like a warm breeze. “Hey, I’m sure your singing isn’t that bad! It's wonderful that you found a lot of joy in that hobby. What about now? Do you still play the guitar here and there? Perhaps..sing in the shower like the rest of us?”

“Wouldn’t ya like t’know?” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully in your direction. “Yeah, I’ve picked it up here n’there. Started writin’ some lyrics as well. Maybe..one day I can play for ya? Give ya your own lil’ private concert, front row.”

“Yeah, you dork. That’s why I'm asking!” You giggled. “Wow, a private concert, just for me? Well, I'd be honored.”

“Mmm.” He hummed, “don’t go gettin’ your hopes up jus’ yet, but I think I can manage.” He shot you a subtle, yet playful wink. “Now, whad’ya got there? Frank Sinatra, You Make Me Feel So Young?”

“An oldie, for the oldies.”

“I ain’t that old, darlin.’” He scoffed playfully.

“Mhm. Let’s face it, we’re a little old, but silver looks good on you.”

“Not nearly as good as it looks on you.” He countered smoothly.

“Charming.”

“Jus’ tellin’ the truth, darlin.’”

“And they say chivalry is dead.” You were looking directly into his eyes which naturally sent a blush rising to his cheeks. Yeah, he had it pretty bad.

“Y’wanna give it a listen?” He offered with a sheepish grin.

“Absolutely.”

He reached for the vinyl, fingers gently brushing yours as he gently removed it from your grasp before he stood up. He shuffled over to the nearby record player that had been neglected for years. He blew off a bit of dust buildup that had naturally settled along the surface before he placed the vinyl down carefully.

The needle slowly fell into place as the old turntable crackled to life, flooding the small expanse of the room in sweet music.

You make me feel so young

You make me feel so Spring has sprung

And every time I see you grin

I'm such a happy individual

Joel watched the way your eyes suddenly lit up, bright, glassy, beautiful. Your energy was infectious as his knuckles lightly thrummed along the hardwood. He wanted to ask you to dance, to make up for what happened at the Tipsy Bison. Why was he so apprehensive? What did he have to fear?

Connection. Intimacy. Devotion.

You seemed to recognize the inner turmoil he was presently facing almost immediately. The nervous thrumming of his knuckles, the way his brows furrowed inward as if he was deep in thought. The light unmistakable pursing of his lips.

“Hey, Joel?”

He blinked once before his eyes hesitantly met yours, “Yeah, darlin?’”

“You wanna dance with me?..It can be like a redo for our first date?” Your thoughtful suggestion was as comforting as a warm summer breeze as his fingers absentmindedly inched closer towards yours.

“Y’wanna make up for that night?..Beanie, we don’t gotta–I mean..only if you want to?” He was nearly stumbling over his words by the time you had gently grabbed his hand and interlaced your fingers through his.

“C’mon,” You replied with a small smile tugging on the corner of your lips. “Dance with me, Joel.”

His hesitation was evident, at first, but your gentle smile, and kind eyes eased his nerves as you both slowly stood to your feet. You could feel how clammy his palm felt around your own as his other hand slowly dropped to his side. He wanted to hold your waist, but after everything that happened, he was apprehensive.

“It’s okay, Joel.” You reassured him as your free hand dipped down to his side and delicately wrapped your hand around his wrist before coaxing his hand to rest around your waist.

“I’m a shit dancer, honey.” He murmured low and soft as his fingers slightly flexed against your waist.

“Joel, don’t overthink it. Just dance.” You encouraged him with a reassuring smile.

When his nerves slowly began to dissipate, he fell into a rhythm as he spun you around playfully. He was less worried about accidentally stepping on your toes, and more focused on the way the soft glow of the kitchen lighting bounced off your skin. How pretty you looked. How your eyes never seemed to leave his. The increased thrum of his heart drowned out the soothing crackle from the tabletop. All he could see was you.

It was as if a magnet was slowly pulling you in closer. The gravitational pull, foreheads touching, noses brushing, exchange of breaths. So close. So close. You could nearly taste him on your tongue–

“Beanie..” He breathed out. Pausing. Thinking. Just ask her. The worst she can say is no.

“Can I–”

“Please. Please kiss me, Joel.” Your thoughts were swirling, tumbling like a shaken up jar of marbles. You wanted him so bad. Terribly. You wanted and yearned to know what it possibly felt like to be kissed by Joel Miller. The moment was there in your grasps, and gone in a flash from the distinct creaking sound of the front door opening.

Ellie’s footsteps were soft along the floorboard as she pulled the door shut behind her. She was hoping that Joel wasn’t home. She wasn’t ready to confront him after what took place at the Tipsy Bison just a few nights prior. She was still hurting. Her curiosity got the best of her in the end when she saw that the kitchen light was on.

“Joel?..” She rounded the corner, eyes going wide, cheeks turning a deep bright red as she caught the moment you and Joel nearly kissed. She squeaked a fast apology, “Shit, I’m so sorry!” before darting out of the room like a bat out of hell.

You and Joel were startled by her presence to say the least. His eyes went wide before he was dropping his hand from your waist. He murmured an apology of his own before he slipped out of the kitchen to follow his kid.

“Ellie, wait! Kiddo, can we please–” He was hot on her heels as she scurried up the stairs and b-lined to her bedroom. If he was there a second sooner, he would have stopped her from slamming the door in his face.

“Kiddo, please. I jus’ wanna talk.” He sounded gravely defeated as his forehead came to rest upon the chipping paint on her bedroom door. He could hear her muttering to herself as she stuffed her backpack with overnight clothes.

Moments later the door flung open as she brushed past him with her bag slung over her shoulder.

“Ellie.” He tried one more time.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Joel. Sorry for interrupting your date.” She muttered before jogging down the staircase.

“Kiddo, please. I’m sorry.”

“I’m going to Dina’s.” Was her short response. He could detect the hurt in her voice as he pathetically watched her disappear through the front door once more. The entire house was silent as he scrubbed a weathered hand across his patchy beard. Healing took time, he reminded himself. It didn’t happen overnight, but fuck. He missed his baby girl so much.

The old floorboards of the staircase groaned under his heavy footsteps as he trudged back down the stairs. His brain was telling him that it was time to call it a night. Send you home so you didn’t have to witness his pain at the forefront. His heart told him differently. His heart urged him to seek out your comfort, so he did.

He found you right in the kitchen where he left you. You had just taken the freshly made pizza dough out of the fridge and set it out on the counter. Your eyes slowly flitted upwards at the sound of his footsteps.

“Hey, I think the dough is ready to be rolled out. Want to give me a hand?”

Bless you.

“Yeah, of course. I’m sorry for runnin’ off like that. She’s been avoidin’ me since that night at the Tipsy Bison.” He admitted in a hushed tone.

“It’s okay, Joel. You don’t have to apologize for that. Did you..want to talk about it?”

“No, not right now. Let's just..make these pizzas. I’m starving.” He sighed, feeling his own mental and emotional exhaustion begin to way down on him like a bag of cement.

He met you on the other side of the counter, shoulders brushing as he pulled out a rolling pin from one of the drawers. You rolled out half the dough in silence together. It was almost as if you were sharing the weight of his present grief, soaking it in and absorbing it like a sponge.

Once the pizzas were dressed and popped in the oven, he wiped down the counter before grabbing a glass from one of the overhead cabinets. “I uh–really could use a drink. Would you like one? I’ve got wine and some spirits.”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having, Joel.”

“Whiskey it is then.” He murmured as he grabbed another glass. “I really don’t usually drink. I jus–’ need somethin’ right now.” He didn’t know why he felt like he needed to explain himself to you, but it was too late to take his words back when they were already spoken.

“Joel, you don’t have to give me a reason as to why you need a drink right now. We all have our vices, and I hold no judgment towards yours.”

“I know I don’t have to explain myself to you, Beanie. I’m jus–’ I'm not okay right now. I don’t know whether I should laugh, cry, punch a fucking wall in.” He muttered bitterly as closed the cabinet door a bit too harshly. He shuffled past you to the wet bar area where he snatched up the bottle of whiskey with trembling fingers. He popped the cap off with his teeth as he poured a hefty splash of amber-colored liquor into his glass. He was considerate enough to give you half of what he was having.

“Joel, I know you’re not okay right now. Do you want me to?..”

“No.” He croaked softly, “No. I don’t want you to leave, please.” He took a sizable sip from his glass before he returned to your side, sliding your glass over.

“Okay, I won’t go, but is there anything you..need from me?” Your hand slowly grasped the crystal glass before raising it to your lips. The warmth of the liquor coated your insides like sticky molasses. It had a twinge of smoke, finished off with a hint of cinnamon. In short, it was fucking delicious.

“I don’t know.” He admitted somberly before he slowly sank down to the kitchen floor with his back resting against the oak cabinets, and the glass resting in his hand between his knees as his head fell back with a soft thud.

You descended alongside him with your legs outstretched, and ankles crossed. Sometimes all a person needed was a gentle soul. A wordless extended notion of comfort. Sometimes that was enough, but sometimes a person needed more. Whatever Joel needed in those crucial moments, you’d be there.

“Can I be honest with you?” He broke through the growing silence with a heavy huff through his lips.

“Of course.”

“I am fucking terrified of losing every goddamn person that I love, Beanie. I’m terrified of losing my brother. I’m terrified of losing my daughter, and I'm terrified..of losing you. I feel like a broken record that can’t quite find its rhythm because the vinyl is scratched, and the needle keeps catching. Do..you get what i’m sayin?’” His head slowly turned to meet your eyes.

Your heart skipped a monumental beat when he said that he was terrified of losing every person that he loved, and that you had made the cut. (not that there was one to make). You ignored the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and focused on him, and his willingness to rawly communicate with you.

“Joel, I understand why you are terrified, but you haven’t lost Tommy, Ellie, or me. We’re all right here. I don’t think you sound like a broken record at all. Try and show yourself a bit of compassion, okay?”

He stifled a bitter chuckle as he brought the rim of the glass back to his lips. He took another sip before he closed his eyes.

“Beanie, I don’t think you’d be tellin’ me to have some compassion for myself if you knew what I've done, the people I've killed, the choices I've made. I ain’t a good person. No matter how many times I have tried to justify my actions, I ain’t a saint.”

“Joel, do you think that anyone is truly a saint? Do you believe that we’re all innately good? That we’ve never hurt a friend, or said words we didn’t mean? Joel, even if the outbreak never happened, and we didn’t lose the people we loved, we still would be making mistakes. We still would be hurting people whether it was intentional or not. I mean this with full honesty, your past isn’t going to scar me. It isn’t going to make me think of you in a darker light, because goddamnit, we all had to fucking make some hard choices in the name of survival. I’ve killed people too, you know that, right? I lost count years ago. I lost my fucking faith in the shreds left in the remants of humanity until–” you felt yourself choking up with tears welling along your waterline, and your words lodged in your throat, clawing to be set free.

“Beanie–”

“No, please. Please just let me finish, okay? Joel, you’re so incredibly hard on yourself, and hell, we all are. I just want you to realize that you are not a bad person. You’re not a bad man. You’re not some evil monster lurking in the shadows. You’re a fucking human being that has spent over 20 years trying to survive. You have endured and survived up until this point. You and Ellie will be okay. She’s hurting, and so are you, but one day she will forgive you, for whatever it is that you have done. She needs time to heal, and so do you.” You felt mildly exasperated from the energy you were exerting.

Joel was speechless. He was floored as his pupils were blown out wide. His jaw physically dropped. He scrambled to gather his thoughts so that he could come up with a well-rounded response. He struggled with his words, as you knew. All he knew is that he had to be just as vulnerable as you were being.

“I killed an entire hospital of fireflies. I killed every single one of them to save her. To save my Ellie. My light. They were going to kill her, Beanie. Ellie is immune. She’s the only one. Marlene told me that the doctor that was going to perform the surgery on her thinks that the Cordyceps has grown with her since birth. Because it’s adapted to her, it tricks the normal Cordyceps into thinking that Ellie is one of them. That’s the reason why she is immune. Tess and I were taking Ellie to the fireflies because I made a promise to Marlene. It turned into something else along the way. I grew to care for Ellie as if she was my own. I even–I even told her that we didn’t have to keep going. We could come back to Tommy’s and forget all about the fireflies. My baby girl didn’t want that. She wanted to save the fuckin’ world, but she didn’t want to die. I know she didn’t want to die, Beanie. She thought that after it was all said and done, that we would be going home together.

“And when we’re done, we’ll go wherever you want, Joel.” Ellie reassured him.

“Tommy’s, sheep ranch, the moon.”

“I’ll follow you anywhere you go.”

“But there’s no halfway with this.”

“We finish what we started.”

Ellie was determined to use her immunity to save the world, and Joel couldn’t stop her.

“Ellie..is immune?” You whispered softly as the weight of Joel’s words sunk deep into your soul.

“Yes, she is. You have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone, Beanie. Not even Maria knows. Only Tommy and I. The rest of the community would turn to chaos if they knew.”

“The fireflies were looking for a cure, and Ellie was the answer? But, Cordyceps–”

“Grow inside the brain.” He deadpanned as he finished off what was left in the contents of his glass. “I did what I had to do to save her, and if I had to go back and do it all over again, I would. She didn’t want to die. She never consented to the surgery. Marlene never gave her the option, and neither did I. The worst bit? Beanie, I lied to her. I told her that there were more people like her. People who were immune. I told her there were dozens like her, and that the doctors couldn’t actually make any of it work. That they’ve stopped looking for a cure entirely.”

“They’ve stopped lookin’ for a cure.”

“Where are my clothes?” Ellie mumbled.

“Raiders attacked the hospital. I barely got ya outta there, kiddo.” he squeezed the steering wheel tightly as he lied through his teeth.

“Were people hurt?..”

“Yes.” He didn’t lie.

“Is Marlene okay?”

Joel paused as he glanced back at his daughter through the rearview mirror.

“I’m takin’ us home.”

“You never told her the truth, did you?” You knew the answer, but you wanted him to confirm it.

“No, I did tell her, and she hates me for lying and taking that choice away from her. She feels like..she holds no purpose in life now, and it’s all my fault.”

“Joel, you did what every parent would have done for their child. Biological or not, she is your daughter. She was in danger, and you saved her. I can’t blame her for the way she currently feels towards you. Her emotions are valid, and you should have never lied to her. You should have told her the truth from the start, but I understand why you didn’t tell her. You felt ashamed of your actions.”

“I just wanted to protect her.” He murmured as his eyes casted downwards.

You reached your hand out and gently grasped his shoulder and gave it a firm, grounding squeeze.

“Joel, you did just that. You protected her. You saved her. You saved the world.”

His own eyes began to water. His lower lip trembled, wobbled with uncertainty as his glassy irises met yours.

“You’re right. I did save the world.”

And then, you were hugging.

His tears and your own fell freely as you cradled his head protectively against your chest with your chin resting gently against the top of his head. Your fingers threaded through his soft salt and pepper tendrils as he enveloped your frame in his strong arms. The oven dinged signaling that the pizza was ready, but neither of you moved an inch.

“Spend the night with me, Beanie. Please.” His words fell heavy on his tongue. His heart begging you with a steady thrum to stay.

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homiu-l · 2 years

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have been thinking of this whole Sculk corrupted!Grian bit since seeing lots of cool fanart about it

its reasonably popular among fandom cuz Grian Whump Pog yet I want to propose some less painful alternatives after studying a bit of how Sculk works

・Sculk only spreads when mobs and players die on it. So instead of slowly eating over his skins, now whether Grian dies his body just, splatted into a big pile of Sculks. The longer he lives (= more Exp he holds) the bigger the splat gets. He'll still respawn but the Sculk pile will always be there, over his spot of death.

・He notices the Sculks on his hands grow faster when he kills monsters and animals overtime. His Exp shouldn't be gaining this fast. And he feels his own body becomes heavier, and stronger.

・Sometimes he slips his mind and start wondering how heavy it would be when another hermit dies on his hands. He doesn't act out. Just being curious.

・He starts hearing things when he gets closer on the sculk areas while mining in the deep dark. Faint whispers echoing in utter silence underground. The things they say are... mildly unpleasant to him.

・The things they say are far much more unpleasant to him when there are other hermits near around.

thats what I got rn Happy Halloween or sth

#and since its hermitcraft hes gonna become a walking sculk farm soon 💀#tw horror #< just in case #hermitcraft #grian

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wangxianficfinder · 4 months

Text

Fic Finder

~*~

1. I'm looking for a story that was set in more modern times and Wangxian are both female, LZ moved to America and was chronically injured, sometimes stuck in a wheelchair, believes WWX dead until she runs into her in America, LSZ is being brought up at the Lan compound by LXC @readingdj

FOUND? 🔒 everything's going to be discovered by everythingispoetry (M, 98k, wangxian, F/F, Modern Cultivation, Reunions, Soft Wangxian, Female LWJ, Female WWX, Family Feels, Soft LQR, they are all softies, Starts with angst ends with fluff, it's a progression, bamf everyone really, Hurt/Comfort, Disability)

~*~

2. I remember it was on ao3 and Wei ying was presumed dead from the waterborne abyss but then washes ashore some days later alive I think he was found by LQR or LXC @i-cant-think-of-one-meh

~*~

3. Hi I have two very vague fics that I'm trying to find A) a fic where yuan named the burial mounds bunny mountain or valley? Something to do with bunnies. I remember it was a yiling Wei sect fic but that's it. B) a fic where Wei Wuxian pretends to date lan Wangji. I remember lan Wangji had like a see through wall in his bedroom or at least a big house/apartment? Or something and Wei Wuxian stayed with him for a bit. It could have been a sugar baby AU but I know it was fake/pretend au and that they slept together. I think they had a misunderstanding or something and broke up then confessed to each other? Sorry all I really remember is them going to Lan Wangji's apartment at one point 😅

3A)

FOUND! 🧡 Never Again by Hauntcats (T, 67k, WangXian, WWX & WQ & WN, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Angst, Not JC Friendly, BAMF WWX)

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4. So I came back to the fandom after about a year and a half and I can’t for the life of me find a story. I don’t remember much, but it was like a murder mystery or something. Or a threat to Jin Ling’s life. But at the end, a girl was killing people with voodoo dolls and was trying to kill Wei Ying with one.

I’m hoping this is in the same story, but they were in a lighthouse and a resentful ghost was murdered and sealed in the structure.

I’m sorry I’m not giving you much, but hopefully someone knows what I’m talking about. Thank you!

FOUND? And I Will Call You Home by Spodumene (E, 42k, WangXian, Case Fic, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood, Ghosts, Suicide, Explicit Sexual Content, Attempted Sexual Assault, LWJ whump, Original Character Death(s))

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5. Hii hope you all are well. Um this fic was modern wwx somehow getting transported into the wuxia version and kind of gives therapy to everyone I believe they were also viewing the past it's not rly a jiang family fix it but I think the ppl that died came back. I think wwx mentions that ljy in the modern world is older than lwj @thatperson0-0

Hi I'm number 5. Sadly the fic was not found :(. If it helps, modern wwx is engaged/married/dating modern lwj and when the two wwxs switch, past wwx and modern lwj have yk in the modern world and when he comes back he mentions wanting to try the stuff he learnt with past lwj.

NOT FOUND! Wrong Turn, Right Place by diamondbruise (E, 71k, WangXian, Time Travel, kind of, it’s more reality travel but there’s modern wwx and cultivator lwj, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jealousy, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Cultural Differences)

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6. hello I would like to request help in finding a modern Wangxian fanfic on Ao3 in which they are I think starting university & WY has 2 cores one golden core and a dark core from resentful energy with I think a reincarnation theme too for WY seeing LZ triggers both his cores & memories then faints which leads to LZ building a barrier around them & helps WY merge both cores together to save him also both their families are alive with baoshan sanren being close with Wangxian like a grandmother also LZ burns baoshan sanren hand when activating the shield also LJY & LSZ are immortals with LSZ gone into a meditative state and that JWY is an idol as he is unable to cultivate as he returned the core back to WY this particular piece of info I think was mentioned in the ending notes, this is all that I remember of it hope it helps. thxs @1p1rose1

FOUND?🔒 Because you loved me by ThisIsWhereTheMagicHappens (T, 133k, WIP, WangXian, NieLan, SongXiao, Canon Compliant, Modern AU, College/University, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, supportive family, POV Alternating, a lot of cultivation, they reincarnated, but not everyone remembers, the lan and wei parents are alive and caring, Happy Ending, No war, Hurt/Comfort, Mpreg, magical mpreg) but it doesn't match exactly

~*~

7. I need fic finder help 😭 I cannot for the life of me find this one fic or remember the name, but I remember it very clearly.

So the premise was that the Lan soloed the SSC after the Wen attacked Cloud Recesses, and LWJ was sect leader (and chief cultivator??) after. He demanded a person be given to him (as compensation?? To show the sects alliance to him?? I forgot the exact reason) and WWX saw it coming a mile away that it would be him chosen to be handed over. Everyone was terrified of LWJ and was certain WWX would be miserable, but LWJ knew it would be WWX they sent and because Wen Qing vouched for him LWJ treated WWX like he deserved instead of how the sects thought he'd be, and got the shock of their life when they ended up married.

The last chapter I read (and the last update I saw, it was a (nearly finished?) wip last I read) Wen Qing sent a notice that LXC, who'd been in a coma for the entire fic up to that point, was awake.

If anyone can find this fic, I'd be eternally greatful 😭

FOUND! golden when the day met the night by glitteringmoonlight (Not rated, 95k, slow burn, sugar daddy LWJ, light, angst, fluff, developing relationship, eventual smut, WIP)

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8. There is a fic I'm looking for. After wwx comes back in Mo village he decides to just stay there and run the town for several years as mo xuanyu and I can't seem to find it on AO3 @mortavita

FOUND? focal, filler, and line by bosbie (T, 26k, wangxian, canon divergence, flower shop au, fluff, hurt/comfort, pining, falling in love, WWX is not recognized in Dafan mountain, slice of life, WIP) WWX stays in Mo Village and is noticed by LWJ 3 years later the out-of-season flowers "Mo Xuanyu" sells have touches of resentful energy on them

FOUND? Gave my Heart and Soul by mel_darling (T, 47k, WIP, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, References to Depression, Survivors Guilt, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, wwx knows Lwj was the one who kissed him, Canon Divergence, Panic Attacks, AnxietyPining, Healing, Gardening for the soul, Accidental Child Acquisition, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Nightmares) It doesnt take place over years but the premise is similar.

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9. Does anyone have that threadfic where omegaverse a!WWX donated sperm for money and o!LWJ bought it? LWJ had two(?) kids with the third on the way when the two of them met and toward the end one of the kids got injured and had to go to the hospital which is how they found out that WWX was the donor

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10. I’m looking for a fic where Wei Wuxian is helping Lan Wangji move in, only to get pinned to a sex bench. Turns out Wei Wuxian is one of a very small subset of males who can get pregnant, Lan Wangji found his e-reader, and calmly decided to divest them both of their virginity. It is not nearly as dark as it sounds.

FOUND? Touch me, tease me, fill me up by Lanwangjisnights (E, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, BDSM Scene, Domestic BDSM, Restraints, Bondage, Rope Bondage, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Boypussy, Vaginal Sex, LWJ Has a Big Dick, Daddy Kink, Pregnancy Kink, Consensual Non-Consent, Vibrators, Sex Toys, Rough Sex, Overstimulation, No Refractory Period, Aftercare, Marriage, Proposal, WWX POV, First Time)

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11. Hi! I’m looking for this fic, I don’t know if it was time travel, but one of the main things was that Wei ying, lan zhan, jiang Chang, and Jin Zixuan became martial brothers. Thank you!

FOUND? Quartet series by WithBroomBefore (T, 69k wangxian, JZX & JC & WWX & LWJ, Canon Divergence, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, WWX's canonical comfort with the prospect of his own death, Hurt/Comfort, JZX makes friends, Eventual Happy Ending, some unhappiness along the way, Canon-Typical Violence, JC keeps his golden core, JYL Lives, WQ Lives, Minor Character Death, Kissing, WWX Lives, no golden core transfer, JZX Lives, Fix-It, WN Lives, Weeping, temporary major character death, Murder Road Trip, Implied Sexual Content, Sunshot Campaign, Nonbinary NHS, Telepathy, platonic group soulbonding, Family, Found Family, POV WWX, Podfic Available, Siblings Sworn Brothers, aroace JZX, Happy Ending, all the Wen remnants live, POV JZX, JGY is less murdery, Asexual Character, Aromantic Character, JZX's social awkwardness, Poison)

FOUND? The Same Moon Shines series by sami (E, 799k) since the asker specifically mentions time travel, I wonder if it's Sami's time travel series? at least the main continuity, where WWX is the time traveler. the sworn brotherhood isn't central like in Quartet but it's still a key plot point.

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12. Hi, I’m looking for an abo fic (o!wwx and a!lwj) where wwx is sent to the cloud recesses in an arranged marriage bc madam yu thought he would be miserable there. Lwj is super cold to him at first and I think wwx is left kneeling in the cold during his preheat? Lwj also doesn’t want kids with him, which makes wwx upset. Xichen and wwx end up becoming good friends, wwx solves the water abyss with talismans, and lwj warns wwx about associating with xichen since the elders would cast them in a bad light, and wwx takes this as threatening him. @vellialavellious

FOUND! To Bring You Back Within My Reach by ablaiseofglory (M, 20k, WIP, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, No dubious consent, Adopted Children, Kid Fic, A/B/O Dynamics, omega wwx, Alpha LWJ, Orphanage, canon levels of physical abuse, aka cloud recesses punishments, Verbal/Mental Abuse, Misunderstandings, so many of them, a comical/horrifying amount, Depressive Thoughts)

~*~

13. Hii this I'd for fic finder

I'm looking for a fic where wwx and wq pretend to be married, a yuan as their child when wwx confronted the jins about qionqi path, in the end I remember he also married lz ( after a misunderstanding where he accused him of infidelity). Thank u ☆

Hii I'm number 13 on the recent fic finder, it's unfortunately not what was recommended :')

I remember more of the story , wwx and wq were married out of convenience to save her family, they had children together but never slept together, when wwx told lwj he loved him , lwj accused him of being bored of his wife or something (they got married in the end, there was implied mpreg I think & lwj was referred to as second madam wei)

Not FOUND that is a door by ShanaStoryteller (Not rated, 7k, WWX/WQ, Marriage of Convenience, POV WQ, Post-War, Canon Divergence) if the asker is certain about marrying LWJ then it's not ShanaStoryteller's this is a door, but otherwise it might be

Not FOUND🔒the tragic and entirely true story of the romance between the yiling patriarch and his wife, most renowned doctor of her generation by ravenditefairylights (T, 18k, WangXian, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Canon, but also during canon, Character Study, Canon Temporary Character Death, excessive use of personal headcanons, Baby LSZ, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Oblivious WWX, Rumors, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Heteronormativity, Fake Marriage, Chronic Pain, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining)

FOUND? 💖 The Epic Lie of the Yiling Laozu and His Wife by JaenysBloodcourt (T, 9k, wangxian, WWX/WQ, fake/pretend relationship, fake marriage, misunderstandings, lies, jealousy, BAMF WWX, yiling wei au)

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14. Hello I am trying to find a fic that is a modern reincarnation au, wei wuxian and nie huaisang are reincarnated roommates, but lan wangji is immortal and from the canon time and he fights a big ghost head in their apartment which is wuxian and huaisang’s first experience with cultivation in this time

It had maybe two chapters then didn’t update for like a year and I gave up and closed the tab for it but that was a big mistake because even unfinished I still think about it for some reason

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15. Hellooo im really trying to find a fic where weiying travelled back in time to gusu classes and tried to end his life with his sword and everyone get scared there's a similiar fic called (un)hidden but it's not the one im trying to find can u please help me find it

FOUND? 🔒 Without end by barisan (M, 69k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel, Suicide Attempt, Hurt/Comfort, Depressed WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, WWX Needs Therapy, Protective LWJ, Good Uncle LQR, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Canonical Character Death, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Time Travel Fix-It, YZY Bashing, JFM Bashing, WWX Protection Squad, WWX Has Self-Esteem Issues, YLLZ WWX, Forehead Kisses, hand holding, Scheming NHS, Wēn Remnants Live, Broadway References, Yúnmèng Jiāng Sect Bashing, Literal Sleeping Together, Feelings Realization, Like Speedrun, First Kiss, sentient resentful energy, Medical Inaccuracies, Sentient Burial Mounds, Protective Siblings, Soft WangXian, BAMF WWX)

FOUND? Better Off Without Me by lindgrsl77 (M, 2k, WIP, WangXian, Suicide Attempt, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, WWX is not okay, Time Travel, Happy Ending)

FOUND? For the Best by Weiyun (T, 5k, WangXian, Suicide Attempt, Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Angst, Canon Divergence, Time Travel)

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16. Hi ☺️ I'm here again for finding recs that I have forgotten the title but not the storyline part ... Well for starter it's like watching their show but they time travel(?) Also there was a scene that while they were watching the library punishment when they get to the book that's when LZ thoughts of the library incidence were broadcast to everyone and any other fantasies he has but they realized it was only his not really happened. And they didn't know this until they watch it... I dunno how to find it 😔 @myst1210

FOUND? Song of Joy and Regrets by HelloKitten (Not Rated, 134k, wangxian, hualian, WIP, TGCF, Angst, Self-Harm, Child Abuse, characters watching their series, Time Travel Fix-it) chapter 31

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17. hello this is for ficfinder.

A) it was a modern au in which wwx is lan yuan's art teacher and i think lwj has adopted him, the fic starts w lwj being late to pick him from school. wen ning is the receptionist at the school. at some point wwx and lwj and a yuan also meet at a market and end up eating together.

B) there is a series in which basically everyone ia simping over wwx and he also finds a way to get his own body back and everyone is like oh you really wee HOT and i think the series named smth similar to simping over wwx but i cant seem to find it.

thank you

17A)

FOUND! 🧡 paint smears on sunny days by SnowshadowAO3 (E, 53k, WangXian, Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Everyone Is Alive, Modern AU, Dadji, Mutual Pining, Happy Ending, Brief Alcohol Mention, Masturbation, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Accidentally co-parenting with your son's art teacher, Fatherhood)

17B)

FOUND? Simping over WWX is my fave hobby Series by brrrrrRawr (T, 10k, WangXian, WWX's original body, Fluff, Pet Name,s Blushing, No Smut, Genius WWX, yunmeng bros reconciliation, endgame lotus pier, big bro wwx rights, also dad wwx rights, BAMF WWX, Bad Writing, Body Dysphoria So OOC, world building, cliff diving, corpse wrestling, OOC, Canon Divergence, god WWX, god WN, god WQ, child JL, teenager MXY, xuanli get resurrected, rip nmj tho, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, BAMF WWX, BAMF WN, BAMF WQ)

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18. hi! I just remembered a fic I read a while ago but I can't find it now and I really wanted to read it again. So what I remember about it is that it's set in cql verse and wei wuxian was taken to the nightless city. He was planning on learning about wrh's demonic cultivation and so he kind of tries to make wen rouhan favor him while secretly learning demonic cultivation. Wrh fell for it and he kinda made wwx his consort and lwj thought wwx really betrayed them. please help me find it T~T

I can remember but I can't find... But I remember that I think WWX still had a golden core. He made Chenqing to let WRH think he was only playing music to help him concentrate on creating the Yin Tiger Seal but actually WWX was using it to use demonic cultivation to create weaknesses in the Seal that he could exploit later (and also to try to protect his golden core grin the resentment). Chenqing becomes semi-sentient and wants to help and protect him. In the end he shatters the Seal while shielding everyone else from the backlash and almost dies in the process, because he drops Chenqing and so she can't protect him.

FOUND? 🔒 Pendulum by ShippersList (M, 69k, wangxian, graphic depicitions of violence, rape/non-con, underage, A/B/O, Canon Divergence, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Misunderstandings, Canon-Typical Violence, Spies & Secret Agents, Fake Character Death, Slow Burn, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, BAMF WWX, Attempted Sexual Assault, Canonical Character Death, Mutual Pining, Good JGY, Introspection, Self-Sacrificing WWX, Love Confessions, Protective LWJ, past child sexual abuse)

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19. Hi! 🥳 Happy new year! And also thank you so much for your hardwork for the past year. I hope you will also help me with this as well.

I’m looking for the fic wherein Wwx went to the bunnies. Wwx was shocked because they went to him and some bunnies actually nuzzles his tummy. Wwx find it odd since usually bunnies don’t like him. Eventually, they learned that the reason why bunnies wwx now because he’s pregnant 🫄.

Hi! I’m the fic finder #19. Thank you for helping but unfortunately I think this is not the one. Though they are similar, it still different because in the fic I read, there is a scene where wwx scolded the bunnies like saying ‘You only like me now because I’m pregnant’ like that.

NOT FOUND! How strange... the bunnies like me! by Selene210 (M, 3k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Using bunnies as a way of discovering pregnancy, Mpreg, Mild Smut)

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20. Can you please help me find a fic? Lan Zhan decides to leave the Lan clan and to do so he has to cut his hair. Wei Ying finds him by a river and helps him with the hair cut. I don’t think they had met prior to this, it is possible Wei Wuxian had already also left his own clan? Anyhoo, they go on to live together and it is very domestic and sweet.

FOUND? my life’s journey is far from over by thelastdboy (E, 148k, wangxian, modern au, canon divergence, PTSD, post-sunshot, everyone lives au, depression, suicidal thoughts, unhealthy coping mechanisms, slow burn, case fic, recorvery, healing is a slow process, kink negotiation)

~*~

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

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whumpsoda · 4 months

Text

Fixed - Part Three

Fixed Part 1 Fixed Part 2 Finally got around to it!! Kind of obsessed with the fact that you (or at least me) can really see the improvement in my writing with this one compared to the others :D

Taglist- @softvampirewhump @meddlingclocks (as you expressed interest in being tagged)

cw: pet whump, conditioning, brainwashing, villain whumpee

———————————————————————

The strong, overwhelming smell of sweetness wafted through the apartment, taking a hold on Hero’s room especially. Villain could clearly hear the other man’s faint whistling as he cooked, while the former criminal lie silently in bed.

Villain had been awake for hours, unable to sleep for long with the rush of his mind. It was probably well past morning, yet the air smelled as if Hero was making some sort of breakfast food. Villain was unable to place the scent, considering he hadn’t had a nice breakfast in a long time.

His mouth watered, and he clawed at his growling belly. The urge to exit Hero's bedroom was growing, food tempting him to make such a risky move. What if Hero got mad? Hero hadn’t gone over the rules yet, and Villain couldn’t bear making a mistake in the first twenty four hours of being there.

Time ticked past, and he couldn’t pry his thoughts from the thick smell enthralling him. His stomach was screaming, and Villain knew Superhero hadn’t fed him at all the day prior.

But Hero seemed kinder than his predecessor. He’d always appeared that way, even before Villain’s rehabilitation. Maybe he would go easier on Villain if he messed up.

Rolling out of the bed, as silently as possible, Villain positioned himself on his tattered hands and knees. Gingerly, he crawled his way through the junk covered floor, trying his best not to mess with any of his master’s belongings. The door led right to the kitchen, and he made his way to a spot where he was sure Hero would take quick notice of him.

Hero stood above the stovetop, flipping a thick, pillowy pancake to its cooked side. He eyed it for a moment, before turning to face the man on his knees.

“Oh!” He exclaimed, taken a bit aback. Villain hung his head low, bangs concealing a majority of his face. “Hey, man. Didn’t know you were up.” He gave Villain a soft grin, his heart fluttering at the sight. Superhero never smiled at him.

Hero gestured to the pan in front of him. “You hungry? I didn’t really know what you liked so I just did pancakes. I think I’ve got some bacon in the fridge if you want that too.”

Hero seemed so genuine, Villain couldn’t tell if it was a vicious trick. Pancakes? For him? The idea just seemed ridiculous. He still had yet to prove his worth to the man, so why would he ever?

Villain gave no response, instead his stomach did it for him. He winced at the sound, grabbing at his tummy as if to cover the noise. Hero simply huffed back a chuckle. “Just give me one sec. You can sit at the table and I’ll bring it over.”

Villain ignored most of his words, the single command captivating his attention. His vision turned to the rusted, foldable table and chair in the corner. He eagerly made his way over, knees thumping painfully against the hard flooring, simply happy to complete an order.

He followed dutifully as Hero bumbled around the tight space, putting together a messy plate of magical smelling food. His bulky socks shuffled over the ground with every movement, and occasionally Villain would catch a glimpse of the cartoonish cat plastered on the front of them.

Hero finally turned to Villain’s direction, making his way to the table and eyeing the man on the floor as he did so. Villain practically drooled when he caught a glimpse of such bliss, as the plate set to the table with a tap.

“You can sit up here.” Hero stated, gripping onto a metal chair.

Villain tensed, knuckles turning white as his nails dug into his palms. Hero was testing him. Testing him to see how obedient he could really be, how well Superhero had trained him. Villain couldn’t entertain the possibility of failing.

The two past enemies just stared back at each other, and awkwardly so. “Do you… need help? Standing, or something?” Hero questioned, and it was obvious he expected an answer.

Don’t speak unless spoken to.

“Uh,” Villain’s voice cracked. “Um, well, I can, um…” He was unable to voice his confusion with the situation, to his increasing dismay. Hero listened to his attempt at words, before reaching a hand down to Villain’s level.

Villain swallowed thickly, taking in the sight. Hesitantly, he lifted his own sickly pale hand, delicately placing it atop Hero’s. Hero took it gently, before grabbing for Villain’s other hand as well.

His bony legs buckled for a second as he made his way up, but Hero was there to keep him steady. Hero softly guided him into the chair, to which Villain quickly tucked his legs back under himself, resuming a kneeling position. He could sense Hero’s judging eyes at the behavior, but he said nothing.

The hearty meal looked even more delicious up close, and the pleasant smell was even more intense. Thick, gooey syrup dripped off the stack of savory, plush cake. He couldn’t resist licking his lips.

Was this really for him? Was it possible?

He turned to Hero timidly, who stood tall over Villain. Hero nodded for him to continue, but it wasn’t enough.

Hero must’ve taken the hint from the other man’s hesitancy. “Do… you can eat, man. It’s all yours.” Villain’s hopeful, puppy eyes were tearing into his heart. “I promise.”

Villain slowly began to eat, before he was overtaken by such extreme lusciousness that he wildly dug in. His lips were soon covered in a layer of sticky syrup, but he was too starving to even think about cleaning himself up, in favor of shoving more food down his throat.

Soon though, a severe knock pounded to the front door, Villain flinching in surprise. Hero didn’t seem the least bit disturbed by the furious sound, like he was expecting it. “I’m gonna go get that, ‘kay? Be back in just a sec.” Villain tried to reply, but his words were far too covered by his full mouth.

Villain picked up Hero stepping outside, presumably to speak to whoever was at the door. Muffled voices conversed in the hall, too dull for Villain to make out. Not that he would dare eavesdrop on his master.

He quickly finished his meal, smiling sincerely with satisfaction. The delightful tastes still coated his mouth, and Villain eagerly savored them on his tongue.

While Hero continued his conversation, Villain studied the room. Ingredients and tools still littered the counter, and of course his dirty utensils still sat in front of him. Maybe Hero would be proud of him if he cleaned it all up. He did a lot of cleaning at Superhero’s home anyway, and Villain was practically made for it.

Enthusiastically he began his adventure, first placing his dishes into the dishwasher. He next returned all of Hero’s ingredients to their respective cabinets, noting which ones they belonged to as he went along. He soon found the cleaning products and supplies under the sink, starting off by wiping down the counters as his nerves began to rattle.

Hero had been outside for a long time. The voices were still noticeable, but were so incoherent they didn’t really help ease him. What if Hero was hurt? Kidnapped even? What would he do? His powers were off limits, he was well aware of that, so how could someone as weak and stupid as him help?

Villain expelled an audible sigh of relief as the front door clicked and Hero stepped back inside. Villain could almost make out the visual of someone behind the man, but was soon covered by Hero stopping to cover them.

“Villain!” He exclaimed nervously, eyes noticing the rag in the pet’s hand. “So, I have someone here to see you.” Hero said, hands motioning for the person behind him. He stepped out of the way, to reveal them.

Villain’s eyes stayed warily on Hero, as he smiled uneasily. They only turned to the stranger when they stepped toward him.

They were decked out in a bundled outfit of all black, only their eyes and a few strands of hair visible. Only when a leather gloved finger reached to their mask did Villain finally place who they were.

“Villain…?” He stumbled back at the words, clutching to the countertop. Assistant’s eyes were watery as she watched him, a smile creeping to her lips. “Do you remember me? I’m so glad to see you.”

This couldn’t be happening. She was here. A criminal, a dirty, nasty, scummy criminal. One he knew. One he had cherished once, in another life. He hadn’t thought of Assistant in months, the memories of anything villain related having been brutally beaten away. But she was here.

“Get- get away!” He shouted maliciously, stumbling back in an attempt to distance himself from the woman. “V- villain! Evil, evil, evil, villain!” Villain yelled, checking Hero’s bewildered expression.

Why wasn’t Hero doing anything? Why would he let a disgusting freak like her into his home?

“Villain!” She growled, both irritation and hurt elicited by his reaction.

He didn’t even hear what she said next, continuing to spew hateful cries. “Disgusting criminal! Terrible, terrible, terrible! Get away, get away, get away! I hate you!” He was already across the room from her, his back pressed against the wall.

Assistant, ignoring his wails, continued closer, her arms stuck out before her. “Villain! Hey, what the fuck? It’s me!” Her voice wavered as she yelled over him, and Villain could tell she was holding down her emotions to her best ability.

Attempting to fully block out her noise, he hollered louder, eyes shut tight and head thrashing. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! Disgusting, stupid, sick! I hate you!” He went on and on, raising his voice so loud all he could hear was himself.

Fat tears slipped down his caving cheeks as he banged his head into the wall behind him, still screeching. Burly hands rushed to grab at his shoulders, gripping him to a stop. The flesh was warm and commanding, and his wide eyes opened to meet with Hero. Faced with his master, Villain’s voice trailed to a whisper.

Villain made an instant glance for the woman, but she seemed to have left. He hoped she would never come back.

The two made no moves for a beat, before Hero softly wiped the liquid from Villain’s cheek.

“H- hey. Are you with me?” Villain rigidly nodded. “Are you okay?” Villain supplied no response.

He slipped from Hero’s grip, sliding clumsily to his knees. “I- I didn’t, um, master, I- I’m a good boy, good, good boy, nice and fixed,” He stumbled horrified over his words, before his face twisted in agony. “Please don’t hurt me, just wanna be a good boy, not a bad, bad villain-”

He leaned into Hero’s leg, enveloping his face into the crisp denim pant fabric. His tears soaked in as he continued pleading, hugging Hero’s leg in a tight embrace with all four limbs. “Please, I’m, I’ll be so good for you, a good boy, a fixed boy.”

Yet again, Hero was stopped with the terrifying decision of what to do next.

#my writing #writing drabble #whump #whumpblr #pet whump #whump writing #hero x villain #villain whumpee #hero caretaker #brainwashing

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