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eff4freddie · 9 days

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Touch | Part Four

Your skills are tested more than ever, and Joel finds a way to thank you for everything you do for Jackson.

Words: 6.2k

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part five

Warnings: depictions of childbirth, here there be smut (this chapter is a lot), fingering, praise, Joel is grumpy but horny, Joel has unique ways of showing his appreciation, we continue to stan an apocalyptic grump

Minors DNI

Later, you would be grateful that your makeshift massage table had the good grace to collapse when it was just you on it. You’d been leaning over it, all your weight on one corner trying to set the towels right, when you heard the telltale creak of wood. You yelped as it gave way, landing heavily on your knee and for a moment the pain took your breath away, as you suddenly found yourself crouched amongst the detritus of your usefulness in Jackson. For a long moment you were stunned, your brain trying to catch up, before you felt the tears pricking at the back of your eyes, your jaw aching where your mouth turned down. Your first real thought was that Joel had been right. Your second was that you had no idea how to tally this loss.

You felt helpless, made small and childlike by the shock and the pain, and you wondered if it would mean you’d have to leave Jackson. The town council had been dubious at best but you’d made it in based on Maria’s championing of the cause, and you couldn’t bring yourself now to consider how you would need to survive on your own in the cold, in the dark, realising that the last three months of warmth and safety had made you soft, had dulled your senses. You should never have leant on the table the way you had been, you should never have been so careless. You looked down at your shaking hands.

You saw in them your mother. Your memories of her skin, papery thin across her palms, across her knuckles. How easily she would bruise as her treatment went on, how you went from being able to push down into the sinew to dusting light across the surface, how towards the end all she could tolerate was your fingertips, dragging gentle so as not to tear.

You wiped the tears off your face with your mother’s hands, your own only capable of destruction.

—

The expedition to recover the raider’s stash started the following morning, and you along with most of Jackson went to the gate to see them off. Marla was smiling, riding high on her chestnut horse, her eyes bright and wild looking over the crowd. Your eyes, too, scanned over the faces, your tummy somersaulting with the prospect of seeing Joel. You had no idea if you wanted him to be there, if you were worried that he would speak to you or more worried that he wouldn’t, if he would look through you, keep his eyes empty of any recognition, or if he would stare you down, that same look of naked wanting written clear on his face. You felt your cheeks turn traitorously red at the thought of it, a bolt of something sharp and hot between your thighs. In the time since Maria’s kitchen you had wondered if you had misinterpreted, your mind playing the moment back but this time Joel is disgusted, this time Joel is confused, this time it’s Joel who legs it down the hallway and out into the freezing cold. You found yourself trying to cling to the real memory, trying to hold it safe and fragile in your palm, scared of it and scared of cracking it, brittle little thing that it was.

There were no speeches when Marla and the six departed Jackson. Even Jacob, who you expected to grandstand, was quiet. You spotted Ray on the other side of the street, his eyes never leaving Marla’s back until the gate closes behind her. He looked like he wanted to cry, and you took a step towards him before you saw Simon appear, gripping him by the shoulder and steering him towards the mess hall. You decided not to try and catch up to them, your knee aching from standing so long in the cold.

As you swung around to head home a pair of eyes caught yours, and it took you a moment to recognise that Joel’s daughter was watching you, likely had been quietly regarding you, from her position leant up against a fence post. For a moment you just stared at her, her gaze unwavering and her face unreadable. She looked so small, but so wired, her arms held tight against her body. You recognised it, the perennial fight or flight, and you felt a pang of something sad and hopeful, a flip of the gut. You smiled warmly at her, nodding your head. She hesitated, but nodded back, and disappeared into the dissipating crowd. She may not be Joel’s actual daughter, you thought, but they are so very much the same.

You were halfway home before you heard your name being called, a frantic edge to it that made the hair on your arms stand up. You turned, searching for Tommy and finding him barrelling towards you, stopping only when he can hold onto your arms to steady himself, nearly toppling the both of you in the process.

‘God, what is it?’ you asked, unable to get the fear out of your voice and thinking immediately that something was wrong with Joel, the sinking feeling in your gut dislodging bile snd sending it rushing into your throat.

‘Maria,’ Tommy said, and it’s no better, ‘she’s started…it’s happening and,’ he sucked in another gulp of clean mountain air, coughed for a second like he was choking on it, ‘she’s asked for you,’ he finished.

‘For me?’ You repeated, and now you really heard the panic. Tommy swallowed hard and nodded at you, his eyes big and brown and terrified, and you found yourself moving, heading straight to their house without even considering if this was the sane thing to do. You stopped, suddenly, and Tommy nearly slammed into your back. ‘Wait, did you call on the doctor as well?’ you ask, and Tommy sighed.

‘She doesn’t trust ‘em,’ he said, as if this was in any way a reasonable explanation. ‘She made me promise not to call on him unless it was really needed.’

‘Tommy, she’s having a baby. It’s needed,’ you said, and you watched his face fall. You knew in that moment he would do anything for her, that this was testing him more than anything ever had, and you remembered that this was what family was: throwing yourself under the bus just to properly entertain their nonsense.

‘I’m coming, of course,’ you said, and you saw his shoulders relax. ‘When I say so, you go get the doc. I can be the bad guy,’ you finished. Tommy nodded his head so hard he nearly shook his cowboy hat off, and you were off then, determined to be the sensible one, an Apocalyptic Doula with nothing but a twenty-year-old knowledge of human anatomy and a shattered massage table.

You had only just stepped onto the front porch when you heard the low moan, and you felt your stomach twist. Turning back to look at Tommy you saw the way his mouth was set firm and grim in a line, the way he searched your eyes for some kind of reassurance. You had attended a birth once, in the QZ, and it had happened in the bathtub out of fear that FEDRA would cart the woman off and cut her open rather than waste ether on her, waste the time of properly welcoming a new life into a dead world. That baby had arrived squawking and angry, an entirely appropriate response, and you had stood behind the midwife holding the towels and trying not to look at the remnants of what had brought him here. This was the limit of your qualifications, and looking back at Tommy’s pinched face you realised it would have to be enough.

You forged on, reaching down into your gut and pulling some strength from somewhere around your tailbone. In the entry way your eyes adjusted to the dark.

‘She wanted the curtains drawn, wanted the dark’ Tommy explained behind you, and you thought immediately of an injured cat seeking out the damp privacy under a house to tend to its wounds, to face the horror of its own mortality away from prying eyes.

‘That’s good, it’s calming,’ you said, and you saw how soundly this reassured him, two breaths from full blown panic as he was. ‘Do you have towels?’ you asked, and he scurried off to get them, grateful to have something to do.

In the living room Maria was on her knees, leaning over the arm of the sofa and resting her head in the bend of her arms. For a second you thought she was praying, but you heard her deep breaths in and out through her nose and you realised she had retreated somewhere inside herself, the pain sending her reeling back from her own skin. You got in behind her, hissing as you leant on your bad knee, and pushed your hands into the small of her back, over her hips, supporting her pelvis as it worked to expand enough to let the baby through. She sighed, relaxing into you, so that you held some of her weight in your arms.

‘Thank you,’ she breathed. ‘I knew you could help.’ You felt a twang of pride inside your ribcage, and you hummed your acknowledgment to her.

‘How long?’ you asked, and she sighed.

‘Feels like months,’ she said, turning slightly towards you. You took the opportunity to reposition her, sliding your arm under her belly to round her spine out, and she groaned in relief. ‘Had been feeling something for the last day or so, nothing regular, I thought false labour maybe?’ She stopped speaking for a second and you watched as her belly seized, felt the ripple of muscle under your palm. You went back to rubbing hard circles into her hips as she breathed through it, finding that you matched her, that you sucked the air in as she did, shared it between you, caught yourself in the moment of relief when she slumped back against you. ‘Lost my plug around dinner last night, though, waters this morning.’

You did some rough calculations in your head, considering this and by the way she was still able to speak, you estimated she wasn’t even halfway there. You steeled yourself for hours and hours of this, felt a sliver of panic slice at your windpipe.

‘Why haven’t you called the doctor?’ you asked, and she huffed out a tired, joyless laugh.

‘You’ve seen him,’ she said, and you had - when you had quarantined on arrival, and as soon as you’d seen him you’d wanted to make a Dougie Houser joke, but you had realised he would be even too young to know the reference. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he tried to check your pulse in your elbow.

‘I’ve done this once before,’ she said, and you fought hard against the instinct to ask for more, to mask your surprise. She was quiet for a moment, gently circling her hips in the air. ‘I know I’m asking a lot,’ she said, and you heard the doubt in her voice.

‘Not too much,’ you reassured her, ‘but I reserve the right to call an actual professional if required.’

Maria snorted through her nose. ‘Let me know if you find one,’ she said.

—

Maria laboured into the afternoon, sometimes kneeling, sometimes pacing, sometimes lying on the sofa with a pillow between her knees. You kept her cool, collecting her sweat in a damp towel and handing it off to Tommy to rinse, the stressed soon-to-be-father hovering always in your peripheral view. Occasionally he would ask you how things were progressing, as if you had a magic wand or an invisible ultrasound machine, but Maria eventually got tired of him asking and snapped at him to shut it, that no one had any idea. It wasn’t the reassurance he was looking for.

As the sun set Maria started to get more agitated, finding it hard to get comfortable in any position. Unable to carry her full weight, you had Tommy come over and hold her up while she groaned and swore into his neck. You could see that she was tiring, made worse by the fact that there was no clarity on how much longer it would be, how much longer it should be, that the three of you were holding your breath trying to figure out if danger was lurking around the corner, like it so often was.

She had taken to letting out her breath in long moans, the sound almost mournful, as you and Tommy took turns to sway with her, as you held her hand, as you patted her hair back away from her face. Occasionally you would look into her eyes and see that she was barely there, that the pain had now stolen her away completely, that she had left her body to do its work without her tagging along for the ride. Only occasionally would she speak to refuse medical attention, and then not again for minutes at a time.

It was around this point, when the moaning became constant, when it appeared that there was no Maria in the room, that Tommy swore under his breath, gathered his coat and stomped out the front door. Maria didn’t look up from her position slumped over the back of the couch and you didn’t mention it to her, hoping that Dougie was ready to earn his keep.

Ten minutes later you heard the door open again and two sets of footsteps, calling over your shoulder that you hoped he’d brought the good drugs. You heard a laugh, a huff of a thing that froze you on the spot.

‘If I had those ya reckon I’d be here?’ Joel asked, and you wondered if this would be the thing that finally sent you careening over the edge: opening a pregnant woman’s hips with your hands while the man you had a raging crush on sassed you from the doorway.

‘Tommy?’ you asked him as he appeared behind his big brother, eyes anxiously roaming over Maria.

‘Joel has seen this before,’ he said, not looking at you so not seeing the look of surprise on your face that you quickly wiped from your features, your eyes flitting to Joel to see if he he’d caught you and knowing, in your guts just knowing, that he had. ‘I figured he could tell us if it’s going ok.’

You couldn’t help a little ripple of unearned indignation at this, and you informed them that you had it under control. It was difficult for them to hear, though, as this was also the moment Maria chose to bend further at the hips, brace her knees, and bellow from deep within her soul.

Joel regarded this silently for a moment. Tension hung in the air while you all waited for his assessment. ‘Totally normal,’ he said, as if Maria hadn’t just unleashed a screaming banshee from the fifth circle of hell. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’

‘No, stay,’ Tommy said, too quickly, stepping towards Maria and rubbing sweet but ineffectual circles on her shoulder. ‘I mean, you can…if things get…’

‘You can stand at the business end with a catcher’s mitt,’ Maria said, from somewhere under her own elbow, shrugging off Tommy. You grinned, falling just a little bit more in love with her by the minute.

‘Tried a bath?’ Joel asked, and you were about to offer to start drawing it when Maria shook her head.

‘Too narrow,’ she said, sounding breathless but resolute. ‘Need her with me and we wont both fit.’ You beamed at this, unable to stop yourself turning to Joel feeling just a little smug. You’d been at this for hours and he thought he could come in and fix it in five minutes? He cocked a knee and put a hand on his hip, and you could see that in any other situation he would have rolled his eyes. As you looked away you just caught his little grin in your peripheral vision.

He turned to Tommy. ‘I really don’t know what I can do here,’ he said, but Tommy stopped him.

‘Just stay,’ he said, and you realised that he was appealing to his older brother to stick by him, that he was telling Joel that he felt safer with him there. You realised that Joel, as gruff and stoic as he was, was comfort for Tommy. You realised that you agreed.

—

You tried to get Maria to eat some dry bread around dinnertime but she refused it, tired and sweaty and back deep inside herself. Tommy brought out ice chips from the freezer for her to chew on and you avoided looking at them for too long, the memory of the cold across your teeth as you held Joel by the wrist too strong, and too ill-fitting for what lay ahead of you. You studiously avoided Joel’s eyes, only glancing up long enough to see that he, too, was avoiding what Tommy held in his hand.

Around 10 pm Maria started wanting to retreat up to the bedroom, and you followed her up the stairs slowly to make sure her legs wouldn’t give out. It took three contractions to get up there, her face screwed up tight against the bannister, bracing herself against the wall, and when she reached the landing she wailed that she couldn’t do it anymore, that she wasn’t strong enough. At the bottom of the stairs you heard Joel inform Tommy that she was close, that it was time for the doctor. He slipped away into the night to bring him, while Tommy helped hoist Maria onto the mattress. Within moments she was up again, on all fours and howling, as you encouraged her to swing low into her hips, to drop down and let her pelvis open. She told you, rightfully, to fuck off.

‘Do you need to push?’ you asked her, thinking back to the delivery you saw in the bath in the QZ, racking your brains trying to remember how the midwife handled it.

‘I don’t know, I don’t know,’ Maria cried, and you reached out to wrap your hand around your wrist.

‘I think that means no,’ you said, trying to scrounge together some confidence to push into your voice. ‘I reckon you’ll know when you feel it.’ Maria nodded at you, her head bent back to look at you through her armpit, and you gave her what you hoped was a reassuring smile.

‘You can do this,’ you said, and you knew, looking at her on all fours on her mattress, hair wild and matted and eyes now shut tight against the pain, primal and urgent and so incredibly strong, that it was true.

You felt a hand on your arm gently pulling you away, and you stood to see Dougie Howser at the end of the bed. You repositioned yourself so that Maria could see you, sat at the headboard and let her rest her head on your shoulder. You looked over to see Tommy getting down on his knees to lean beside her, Joel in the doorway watching on. His eyes met yours and for a moment the world was silent. An understanding seemed to pass between you, that what you were witnessing was sacred and precious, but that it belonged to the people in front of you, that it was not for either of you to share.

‘Ok,’ Dougie said, and you were surprised his voice didn’t break as he spoke. ‘We’re close but we’re not quite there yet.’ It bothered you that he said ‘we’ as if he was also writhing on the bed howling in agony, but the one functioning synapse you had left advised you now was not the time to point this out.

Maria groaned when she heard this, turning her head to Tommy and panting, as he rested his forehead on hers. You were close enough that you could hear her urgent whisper to him that she couldn’t do it, that it was going to split her open, and the way that he soothed her, how he held the back of her head and whispered words of love and courage, how he knew she was hurting but that she could do it, how he loved her, more than anything, but how much in awe of her he was that she was going to make him a dad. You felt heat in the back of your eyes, swallowing sour across your throat, the intimacy of the moment so breathtaking that you wanted to turn away from it, even as it played out almost entirely in your lap. You looked over Tommy’s back to Joel, saw that he had heard it too, that he had witnessed this moment, saw the way he stood steadfast in the face of such naked love. Saw that he was holding your gaze, letting you borrow some of his strength to carry you through it, to be able to resist the instinct to shy away.

‘Oh!’ Maria suddenly exclaimed, her eyes wide as she snapped her head up to look at you. ‘I have to push!’ You watched as Dougie ducked down behind her again, busied himself underneath her, before returning to the surface and nodding to Tommy that it was time. Your remaining synapse again advised you not to point out that he had just said she wasn’t there yet, then promptly joined all your other brain cells in death.

‘Ok baby,’ Tommy said, and Maria reared up then, swinging her legs down so that her knees were back on the floor, her elbows digging into the mattress. You reached out and held her hand.

‘Can she do it like this?’ Tommy asked and you answered for Dougie, knowing the answer almost innately, not wanting him to try and put her on her back.

‘Let gravity help,’ you said. ‘Let her do it how her instincts tell her to.’

In the end, Joel didn’t need a catcher’s mitt. Maria and Tommy’s baby boy slid into his father’s hands and onto his chest, the younger Miller gasping with awe and love while the very youngest Miller gave his dad a piece of his mind. The shrill cries were somehow the sweetest thing you had heard, somehow a symphony of life and resistance, and you found yourself surging with hope at the sight of him, wiggly and squirming and covered in goo. Joel appeared with the towels and Tommy wrapped him up, while you helped Maria back onto the bed and into a comfortable position. You backed away then, over to the doorframe where Joel had stood vigil for so long, letting the new parents luxuriate in their first moments with their creation. After a few moments Joel came and stood by your side and you almost let yourself reach out, take his hand in yours, so awed were you by the events of the last twelve hours.

—

Joel offered to walk you home and you let him, the adrenaline retreating to leave just plain exhaustion in its wake. You had been wired right up until you pulled your coat on, the warmth of it reminding your tired bones of the need for rest.

‘Oh my god,’ you said, as Joel pulled Maria’s door shut behind you and ushered you down the front steps. He smiled at your tired excitement.

‘Somethin’, right?’ he asked, and you just nodded, didn’t have the words, couldn’t find them even as you jumbled through your brain.

‘She was amazing,’ you replied, your breath fanning out in front of you in the midnight chill.

‘She had a good team,’ he replied, and you grinned back at him.

The walk back to your house was only a few minutes, but with each step the exhaustion and the cold got in under your clothes and held you hard and bony by the knee. You’d managed to ignore the pain of it when Maria needed you, but now the ache had settled in. You started to limp.

‘What’s that about?’ Joel asked you, nodding towards your feet.

‘Oh I hurt my knee, you were right, the massage table did come down.’ You were focussed on your feet in front of you, trying hard to slide on the ice, so you yelped a little in surprise when Joel grabbed your arm snd stopped you.

‘You hurt?’ he asked, and in his eyes you saw genuine worry. He faltered, collecting himself. ‘Was anyone hurt?’ he tried again.

‘No it was just me,’ you said, and you turned away from him to keep walking, hearing his footsteps quicken to catch up with you. Your eyes were stinging from the cold and the weight of the day. ‘I was, am, so grateful to Tommy for finding it for me but the table was huge, I had to climb onto it to get the towels right each time, and it was hard to get into a good position sometimes so I had to kind of lean over to get at someone’s shoulders…’ you pantomimed this in thin air, raising one leg up to demonstrate how you would need to contort yourself, and nearly slipped. Joel grabbed you by the armpit to steady you, grunting as you leant on him. ‘Sorry,’ you said, wondering if the fatigue had made you delirious. ‘Slippery,’ you helpfully clarified, as Joel nodded once at you but didn’t let you go.

You expected him to drop you at your front door, but he followed you onto the porch and down your corridor. It felt strange, having just witnessed the miracle of life, to throw him out straight after, so you didn’t, listening to him shuck off his jacket and hang it by the door. He stopped at the doorway of your treatment room, regarding the mess of splintered wood on the floor.

‘Yeah, I know. I’ll clean it up, it’s just really heavy,’ you said and you weren’t sure if you meant the weight of the wood, exactly. You sighed, heading into the kitchen and then stopping when you remembered what tends to happen when you and Joel sit down at a table, and doubled back to flop down on your sofa. You lifted your knee and started rubbing at it over your jeans. You heard the floorboards creaking under Joel’s feet as he continued to inspect the damage in your treatment room.

‘You want some tea?’ you called our to him after a while. He appeared over your shoulder, grinning when he saw you slumped into the cushions.

‘Reckon if I did I’d have to make it myself,’ he said, and you closed your eyes snd hummed your agreement. Instead, he came and sat down next to you, his weight nearly causing the rusted springs to collapse you into him. You watched his eyes roam your meagre belongings.

‘Wood was rotting through at the top of the legs,’ he said after a while. You rubbed absently at your knee and nodded. ‘Tommy wouldn’t have checked, he ain’t careful. Back on the old job sites I spent half my time checking his work, correctin’ his mistakes before the boss got onto em.’

‘He’s lucky to have you,’ you said, honestly. He looked over at you, and you thought you saw the faintest hint of pink under his patchy beard. You wanted to pull him to you and nip on the skin. You swallowed.

‘That botherin’ ya?’ he asked, and you panicked for a second that he knew what you’d just been imagining, before you realised he meant your knee. You nodded, and he grunted in acknowledgement.

‘Show me what to do,’ he said, and your breath caught in your throat.

‘What?’ you asked, frozen in place next to him. He was avoiding your gaze, but he slipped an arm behind you and pulled you over to the coffee table, so that you sat facing him, squarely between his knees. He put his hands on your shin, and you just managed to hold in a gasp.

‘Show me,’ he said, nodding down to his hands.

Your mouth was bone dry, your throat threatening to collapse in on itself. His hands were so warm, scorching through your jeans. ‘Umm…’ you started, taking a second to catch your breath. He waited patiently for you to continue, his thumb gently rubbing back and forth on the inside of your knee. ‘Well, I landed right on it so you don’t want to really massage the knee cap,’ you started, casting your eyes down to your leg where it felt almost safe. ‘It’s better to try and move some of the fluid, support the tendons around it because they got a bit of a sudden stretch as well.’

He made a sound in his throat to indicate he was listening, moving his hands to brace either side of your knee.

‘It’s really about gripping around the back of the leg while you kind of make little circles with your thumbs,’ you said, demonstrating with your own hands in front of your face. ‘Sometimes I imagine it’s like I’m smearing toast on butter,’ you went on, and he huffed out a quiet laugh.

‘You butter your toast with your thumbs?’ he asked, gently ribbing you again.

‘And what if I do?’ you shot back, pretending to be offended. He smiled, returning to his work.

‘This good?’ he asked, and you hummed. ‘What about here?’ he asked, moving his hands above your knee and holding firm. He let out a shaky breath and you watched his face as he kept his eyes trained on his hands. The heat from them was scorching, and you felt sweat break out on the back of your neck. ‘Can I do anything here?’

You wanted to laugh, a giggle forming in your chest and threatening to pop out into the air between you. You wanted to tell him he could do anything anywhere, but you gripped hard on the edge of the coffee table and steeled yourself.

‘Same thing but just rather than circles try and kind of push down towards the knee.’ His grip was firm, his hands so strong. You held your jaw shut tight, not sure whether you wanted to laugh or scream, the wings brushing so hard against the inside of your ribcage now you wouldn’t have been surprised if the feather started to strip away, if you opened your mouth and coughed them up onto the rug.

‘I gotta tell ya, I thought you were lyin’ about going to school for this,’ he confessed, and your attention snapped back to the man in front of you. ‘You must have been young on outbreak day,’ he said, and you nodded. ‘But I saw how you were with Maria tonight I…I knew it then. I was wrong, and I’m sorry.’

‘It’s ok,’ you said, your voice quiet. ‘I was young, but my mum…when I was 15 she got…and she needed so much medical help, one of the things that they said would help with the chemo was…so I went to school for it on the weekends and…I helped her.’ You were aware you had yet to finish a full sentence, but your poor brain was scrambling to understand what was happening, had been scrambling all day. You saw again your mother and father standing at the kitchen sink peeling potatoes, your mother’s favourite knitted beanie covering her head. Honey I’m going to Jackson. See if I care.

You came back into the room, your mind drifting back to the man in front of you, who was watching you openly now, his hands still on your knee.

‘So beautiful,’ he said, almost to himself. You felt heat bloom across your chest. ‘Doin’ so much for so many people. Will you let me do something for you?’

Your vision blurred, your eyes watery, and you nodded, suddenly shy. He stood and tugged you up into standing, coming forward to support your weight, his lower hand on your back and your nose buried in his shoulder. You felt him grip the button of your jeans, popping it open with one hand.

‘Take these off baby, so I can take care of you,’ he said and your fingers moved of their own accord, pushing the denim off your legs and down to your feet, where he helped you step out of them. He sat you back down on the coffee table, getting onto the floor in front of you, inspecting your now naked knee as he held it in his hands. His bare skin on your bare skin, his pulse against yours.

He clicked his tongue at the sight of the purple and yellow bruise blooming across it. ‘Poor little thing,’ he cooed, bending down to place a feather light kiss on it, his hand gripping the back of it, his fingers digging into the flesh of your inner thigh. You broke out in shivers, temporarily unable to speak, letting out a breathy whimper when he moved his hand up to pull you towards him, the edge of the table digging into your bottom. ‘I know, baby,’ he hummed, his voice gravelly and dipped in sin. Your cunt throbbed in time to your thundering pulse, the heat between your legs unbearable, making you want to squirm, but he held you fast.

‘Can I do anything here?’ he asked, moving his hand up, his other mirroring his actions on your other thigh, his fingers close enough to brush against your panties but he stayed achingly far from your centre. He pulled your thighs apart, making room for himself as he shuffled forward. You shook your head, willing him closer, higher and further, inside. ‘No?’ he asked, pretending not to understand, and you nearly cried out. The ache was unlike anything you had ever experienced, the heat and the pulse of it stopping you from forming any kind of cogent thought.

He moved his hands to bracket your hips, his thumbs rubbing circles on the crest of the bone, and you keened, staring imploringly into his sparkling brown eyes. If he was going to continue to torture you, you were not going to stand for it, the moment you regained your ability to move.

‘I’m sorry, baby,’ he said, but the bastard didn’t mean it. ‘You’re so good to us, so good to this town. I won’t tease ya.’

And he didn’t, then, slipping his hands under your underwear and running his fingers up against your dripping seam. You gasped, rocking your hips into his hand, as he circled your clit with one hand and pushed two strong, thick fingers into your cunt. He watched your face as you screwed your eyes shut, the pleasure almost painful in its entirety, sending sparks into your fingertips and down to the tip of your tongue. You heard the hoarseness of your voice as you cried out into the quiet of your living room, your hands flying to grip Joel’s flannel shirt.

‘Joel!’ you gasped, genuinely surprised by the way he had set your entire nervous system ablaze.

‘Sssh,’ he said, ‘I know baby, I know.’ He manoeuvred his hands inside your underwear, stretching the stitching almost to breaking point, and you didn’t fucking care if he destroyed every piece of clothing you owned, would ever own.

‘Take them off, take them,’ you muttered, pulling at them to get free, suddenly feeling the cotton too tight across your hips. He gripped them, stripped you of them in one swoop, barely missing a beat as he pumped in and out of you.

‘So good to me, so good to us,’ he muttered, his eyes watching the contortions of your face as he systematically took you apart. ‘Slipping that ice into that mouth,’ he added, and you would have been shy about it except that you were currently spread open on yet another table, every breath pushing you closer to toppling over the edge.

You felt your cunt gripping, your weight now bearing down on his hand, as you reached forward and grabbed him by the wrist, pushing him further into you, to graze against the spongey spot you could never reach yourself.

‘Oh, fuck, baby,’ he said, as you moaned high and tight, ‘show me how you like it, show me how to help you.’

‘There, there,’ you whimpered, the weight in your pelvis heavy now, the heat expanding out into your limbs, the speed of it breathtaking, as if all your life you had been waiting for this one man to touch you. ‘Please,’ you added, a gasping benediction to nothing in particular.

When you came, hips circling Joel’s pumping hand, your own grasped in his shirt, head thrown back to the ceiling and eyes shut tight, you forgot for a moment. Forgot to tally your losses, to keep the running sheet in your head of grief and of fury. Forgot the world had ended, taking with it first your family, then your home, and then your self. Forgot for a moment the dying light over the mountains surrounding Jackson, the cold and the bite of winter nipping fast into your bones. For a moment you floated, anchored as you were to the world by Joel’s touch, his breath hot on your neck as he repeated and repeated and repeated your name.

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@hiroikegawa

@littlemisspascal

@ilovejoel-andjavi

@giggly-otter

@harrysrosetatto

@Hjzghi-blog

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #fanfic #joel miller

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coralinnii · 1 year

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I love the villain scorned by the world feat: Azul genre: drama note: continuation of reincarnated into a new world as the bad guy AU Azul ver, not gender specific reader, no pronouns used, use of non-canon characters (Neveah), 1.4k word count

I know people wanted to see more of the female and male lead’s downfall but Azul’s story has so much potential for drama that I just can’t skip it. This is more of an interaction between villain/ess!reader and the female lead and things are getting interesting. There’s more to the story

Is it funny that the more I write Azul’s villain/ess!reader, the more they’re starting to be like how I think Jade would act…just sassier

You became the talk of the kingdom for quite some time and you weren’t surprised. You had your engagement annulled and disowned from your family but you managed to disgrace your former fiancé the prince and his lover with their affair. Instead of a fallen noble, you became a surviving noble who became a victim of unfaithful love. All according to your plan.

Free from your downfall, you find yourself living in comfort in your own house close to Azul. The royal family and your own parents have requested your attendance but you declined their letters, playing your victim card to the fullest.

“Oh no, how could I possibly return back to the palace where I had my heart broken?” “My family disowned me. The least I could do is respect their wishes” Good riddance to that stifling environment.

You did notice that you never once received a letter from the young prince, the male lead though you would scoff and burn it if he did anyway. You figured that he was too prideful to address the affair with you. He wasn’t regretful for his actions nor was he regretful he got caught. The original series seriously had a bad cast.

Though it could also be that since the disgraceful act the male lead was sentenced to house arrest to “reflect on his actions”. From your sources, he’s just been angry all this time, especially when he hasn’t been able to meet with his beloved.

Speaking of which, the female lead has been busy through all this fiasco. Crying and spinning the tale of how she was a helpless victim in this mess as well, saying how she was clueless throughout everything since being so new to the noble society.

Please, Jade has better acting skills than she does. You supposed you could commend her for her guts.

Like how she was gutsy enough to visit you in your own home.

“I’m so glad you’re willing to meet with me” Neveah smiled but you didn’t return the smile, choosing to sip your tea.

“You should be glad, considering I probably would have ignored you” you replied indifferently. “It just so happens that I wanted to ask you a few questions”

“Oh? What kind of questions?~” That exaggerated childlike tone of hers really rubbed you the wrong way.

Fighting through your irritation, you questioned her “I’ve heard that you’ve been attempting to meet with Azul for the past few days. Curious since you two aren’t even acquaintances”

“But, we are! Me and Azul are really close~”

“That’s not what Azul says, and you will address him as Count Ashengrotto” you rebuked her claim, a little snippier than you wished but your patience is not unlimited and the ditzy lady is truly testing you.

Azul mentioned his troubles to you when you asked about the visible stress on his face. Apparently he has unfortunately been bumping into the female lead at his businesses and she has been trying to interact with him, even offering to have tea with her…in his own restaurant.

“Tricking her would be akin to taking candy from a child, but even a child is more worthwhile than speaking with her” Azul sighed in aggravation with his brows furrowed. You kept a sympathetic expression but you felt a sense of joy over the silvernette’s words. There’s nothing wrong in secretly taking glee in your crush sharing your disdain over the same irritance, right?

“Perhaps you should take a short rest, Azul” you suggested, “This stress will do you no good and you can’t afford to make mistakes due to your clouded mind”

Azul sighed but nodded “you may have a point”

“Would you like to rest on my lap? I wouldn’t mind after all”

“You-!”

Refocusing your attention away from your memories, you sharpened your gaze at your uninvited guest. “Considering Azul is someone dear to me, I worry about your intentions in approaching him”

Then, the situation took an interesting turn.

The young lady in front of you, undeterred from your stare, smiled brightly which some could compare to something angelic…to some. But her words did not match her innocent appearance.

“Are you worried that I would approach Azul the way you did?”

You didn’t break your expression but you must admit you were close to. Is she insinuating…

“Isn’t it weird that the famously lovesick fiancé of the prince suddenly changed?” Neveah questioned, putting on a confused pout on her lips. “No explanations, like a whole new person. The story has changed”

Oh, how interesting.

“So you’re interested in me” you finally smiled back “What can I say, I realized one day this was not my love story so I decided to change my ways”

“Is that so?~”

“Yes. But back to the topic,” you took control back of the conversation “You haven’t explained your reason for approaching the count?”

Whatever calculating look you thought you saw in the female lead disappeared as she smiled even brighter than before, fully committing to her innocent appearance.

“I just felt so bad in interfering with your engagement that I’ve been avoiding the prince in respect for you, not even replying to his letters. Then maybe you can reinstate your engagement with your beloved”

My beloved? You truly had difficulty not outright laughing out loud over that idea. But it was an interesting tidbit the female lead gave, knowing that the prince has been sending her letters meant that those two are still in contact. Just because she said she doesn’t reply, she could still be reading them.

“I’ve been trying really hard to forget the prince so I’ve been visiting the Monstro Lounge to get away” she continued her story, managing a tear from her eyes. “And I’ve been seeing the count there so I thought we could be friends”

So this is how she’s been fooling the masses. You’re willing to admit that she’s definitely a better actress than you initially give her with her sweet words and unassuming “innocence”. But you knew the story she conveniently left out.

Breaking the engagement between the royal family and your (ex)family of duke status, the male lead has been in hot water ever since as his reputation has affected him to the point that his right to the throne is in jeopardy. Azul on the other hand has been making a name for himself and his value in the kingdom is very attractive to many pursuers.

“How shamelessly greedy of you, Ms. Protagonist” you smirked at the female lead who continues to put on a sweet facade, you commend her ambitions at least. She really wants her happy ending.

But you’re done with this conversation already. You got your answers and have no interest in keeping company with this eyesore for any longer.

“That’s all I need to hear, I believe it’s time for you to leave” With that, you waved to your guards who were standing by to escort the lady to the door.

“Wait, then will you take the prince back? And convince the families to restore the engagement” Neveah quickly asked you before she was ushered. Ah, so that’s why she came to see you. You never did bother to ask…or care.

“Firstly, I don’t have the habit of picking up trash I already tossed out” you calmly stood up from your seat, smoothing down your clothes of creases, and gave a smile towards the female lead before speaking again “Secondly, I’m simply respecting what you said to me. Do you remember? You couldn’t stop from loving who you want”

You watched Neveah stutter and stumble, trying to find the right words but you weren’t interested anymore so you proceeded to leave the room first with some parting words before your guards walk the female lead out of your home.

“I’m letting you love the prince like you said you wanted, and I’ll love who I want, and I intend to fight”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst scenarios #villainess au #twst imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #twisted wonderland x reader

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realtalk127 · 5 months

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alright fuck it. i can't sleep and i need to talk about this scene from the last episode of critical role.

because holy shit if this ain't some of the best rp – nay, storytelling in general – that i've ever seen. (buckle up, it ain't gonna be short.)

laudna: i made you a doll. because dolls are for children. and you're a child.

the way she says this is not nice! it's biting, it's snarky. she definitely seems to mean it as an insult – and she probably does! – at first. but laudna's idea of a child is much more expansive than just a cheep insult, as she makes clear shortly.

then ashton's response: i've never had a doll before. this is the nicest thing anyone's ever given me.

i don't know if this reaction melts laudna a little (if it does, she doesn't show it visibly), or maybe she was already coming to the conversation with a more nuanced definition of 'child', but either way, the conversation shifts immediately – and the next two sentences clarify where they're both coming from here.

laudna: i like children. // ashton: i don't.

she likes children! and we knew this, of course. marisha, the god of intentional rp showed us this within the first few moments of laudna's screen-time way back in episode 1. but still! it's worth repeating. despite the bite of her initial comment to ashton, she doesn't necessarily mean it as an insult. i don't know that we could entirely call it a compliment, given the context, but at the very least, i think she intended it as a point of connection.

after all, our data re: Laudna And Kids is not limited to that one scene from episode 1. there's also the parallel scene that mirrors it (with a happier ending) back in episode 38, when laudna first visits the sun tree after her resurrection. we also know (via a 4sd episode that i don't care to dig up right now) that laudna had another friend before imogen, who was a little girl.

and i think it's that little girl that's the most important piece here. we don't know anything about that story except that she exists, but i'm willing to read between the lines and make an assumption that laudna – on average – has better luck getting children to be kind to her (when they've not yet been taught to be cruel) than with adults. there is an innocence there that laudna needs! she needs people who haven't been hardened by assumptions and pre-judgements and all that bullshit. for laudna there is safety – both emotional and literal physical safety – in a childlike perspective.

ALL THAT TO SAY: laudna's associations with childhood are, generally, positive. for a variety of reasons.

but!

ashton's are NOT.

ashton's childhood sucked. from the jump. he was a part of a shitty cult that he barely remembers, and after that they were in an ophanage. their associations with childhood are overwhelmingly negative, and likely associated with feelings of helplessness and loneliness.

whether or not laudna intended that original comment ('you're a child') as an insult, we can pretty safely assume ashton took it as one.

they continue:

ashton: they're awful. // laudna: they're not.

NOW, we're getting into the meat of it. where before they were dancing around a metaphor, it becomes immediately clear what's really being talked about here. ashton is saying 'i'm awful', and laudna is emphatically saying 'no you're not.'

which! first of all, is so insanely generous of her. after what ashton just put her through less than 24 hours ago, laudna has every reason to affirm ashton's assertion that they are, in fact, awful. but she doesn't. ashton knows this, which is why he amends his original statement:

ashton: they can be.

they're saying: perhaps i can concede that i am not always awful, but let's at least agree that sometimes (like specificaly, oh, i don't know, LAST NIGHT) i can be.

laudna: you should remember what it's like to be one.

ashton: i do. it wasn't great.

the LAYERS, y'all. the LAYERS. the important thing here is that it's all in the context of that first comment: you're a child. which is, critically, a statement made in the context of ashton's decisions the previous night. they're talking in generalities here, but they're mostly talking about last night.

so!

when laudna says they should remember what it's like to be one [a child], she also means: you were a child last night, but not in a cool, whimsical way, just in a shitty, immature way. AND! when ashton says they remember, and that it wasn't great, they're saying they know they fucked up last night, but all they know of childhood is an overwhelming helplessness, how can that possibly be spun to a positive?

and this, really, is the crux of their two differing worldviews. these two have a lot in common – much has been said about that in game and out – but this point is where they split. laudna has survived, by embracing her childlike nature (admittedly, to a fault, at times). how to keep from being hurt? just keep everything fun and whimsical! nothing to worry about here, it's all just a silly little game! and she has also needed people who share that perspective. people who are willing to take her at face value and without any of the negative assumptions and prejudices they may have picked up along the way.

ashton, on the other hand survived by growing up immediately. they got through their own shitty childhood by becoming an adult (or acting like one anyway) as quickly as possible and STAYING that way. ashton needs to have a tough exterior (there's the made-of-stone thing again) to feel safe. (admittedly, from an audience perspective, this veneer is basically see-through. but ashton doesn't necessarily know this. they're trying their best. so from their perspective, the tough guy thing is Working.)

laudna: you should find more joy in your inner child.

she's saying two things here:

(1) you can be soft and be safe. those can co-exist, aND!

(2) i need you to be soft for me to be safe. when you have this false tough exterior, it hurts people. it hurts (hurt) me.

which is certainly a resonant metaphor to play with for the literal ROCK GUY who just got literally MELTED into LAVA 12 hours prior.

ANYWAY- that's what i've got for now on this scene. i'll probably never stop thinking about it, and there's even more good shit from later on in the scene when they talk about the doll, but that's it for now.

#critical role #laudna #ashton greymoore #my thoughts #cr3 #bells hells #this SCENE you guys #i can't stop thinking about it.#it's just THAT good

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toastyrobos · 28 days

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I’m okay…okay? (Wrecker X Female reader one shot)

Word count: 2.5k

((After everyone's chips are removed on Bracca you try to talk to Wrecker about what happened, since you care for him, but he again tries to avoid you. What happens when you've had enough and confront him))

If only things had gone down as planned. Then maybe the feeling of dread and helplessness wouldn't be permeating the air around you. Maybe then you wouldn't feel so..so terrified and useless. You couldn't have done much of anything in that split second when theory turned reality. When the reason for those chips showed itself to all of you in that room.

That room you didn't want to step foot into anymore. His face...that dull lifeless appearance it took on the second his chip had activated. How when he uttered those words you wanted to cry out. And you did. Not because you were afraid of him.

No.

You were afraid for him. You saw how Wrecker's eyes...the kindness and childlike essence was still there. Fighting whatever the chip was doing to him. He was actively fighting the programming that was inside his mind...and losing.

And you knew...knew that if or when he would came to he'd never forgive himself for what he had done. It's what the Empire...those bastards wanted. A perfect creation that could be programmed, when needed, to do their dirty work. And it happened right under your noises. They used and turned the clones into nothing more than their own personal attack dogs.

It made you sick to your stomach.

They were used and discarded as if they were a dirty rag. No longer serving its purpose. It enraged you. What they did to their most loyal supporters, it enraged you what they did to him.

To the one person who had made you smile at every given opportunity. Could insight the biggest applause of laughter and fill an entire room with it. The person who would do anything to protect those he cared about at a moments notice. He was fierce, powerful when he needed to be. Especially during the heat of battle. Underneath it all though, he was a gentle giant. Always careful when embracing another person...mostly that is. The way in which he looked out and cared for Omega. Being the big brother that maybe he was always meant to be.

All of those things about him.... His heart of gold, that large grin, how infectious his laugh was.

You loved it all. You loved him.

That's why the minute he woke up from this chip removal you were so relieved. Tears lined your eyes before running down your anxious complexion. But something was different about him. A somber expression painted his face. Guilt too. And you immediately knew. How could you not? He only further confirmed it when after apologizing to Omega, he avoided your gaze.

It was obvious. He was swimming in his own guilt and shame. Like an ocean had swallowed him up. And much more weighing heavily on his heart. You didn't need to be a Jedi to see it. It was clear as day. His knotted brows, the trembling in his hands, how his eyes seemed distance.

You understand why it was easier for him to forgive himself when it came to Omega..or at the very least make amends with her. She had no trouble forgiving him. Like us, she knew there wasn't much to forgive. None of this situation was his fault. Yet here he was. Blaming himself, Silently. Away from you. Allowing it to eat away at him from the inside out. And it broke your heart.

If Rex hadn't pushed you out of the way, then that blaster shot would been buried deep within your chest. Ending your life in the process. It's all and intended purpose. That's why he wouldn't—couldn't look at you. The frightened look in your eyes, that would haunt him forever. If only he knew that it wasn't for your life that scared you. No. It was for another reason entirely. And you wanted to—needed to tell him. You didn't care anymore if he avoided you. You had to talk to him. Staying away was no longer an option.

You wasted no time in locating Hunter and demanding where Wrecker was. Seeing how determined you were and knowing the full situation of both of your unspoken feelings, he told you where to find his brother. Before rushing back off Hunter wished you good luck in your pursuits. As the man in charge and a loyal brother, he wanted what was best for his fellow teammates. You being with Wrecker was just that. Heightened senses or not, he saw the way you two were around each other. How you both were captivated by the other, the hidden glances...he'd never seen two people more suited for each other than his brother and you. The newest member of the team, of his family. Maker, he just hoped that whatever pain and guilt Wrecker felt, you'd find a way to reach him.

Finding him wasn't the problem, getting him to stay was. The moment you located him he started to back away from your presence. You understood why, but it hurt, hurt to see him so afraid. You didn't want him to feel this way. You couldn't bare it. He was..he was your—this loveable, big hearted man who could bring a smile to anyone's face. The fear and anguish he held in his gaze, clouding him...that wasn't him. That wasn't the Wrecker you knew.

"Wrecker please!" You cried out. "Please..."

You could how you pleas made him stop in his tracks. How his body visible flinched at the way you spoke his name.

"I want—need to talk to you".

He looked away from you. He wasn't going to meet your gaze. "Stop!" The pleading in his voice. "Don't come any closer".

"Wrecker...". You choked back the tears that threatened to escape from you while you took a darning footstep towards him. And so in turn, like a dance of deep rooted turmoil, Wrecker took a step backwards. "Please stop!" You shouted at him, your voice cracking in the process. You couldn't take it. You needed him to stay, to not run away from you. From what you needed to get off your chest. What your heart was bursting to confess.

Thankfully he understood. You watched his body freeze and just barely his eyes brushed to yours for the briefest of moments before they returned to his feet. Meaning that some piece of him wanted to talk to you. Or at the very least hear what you had to say. He owed you that much. Though you weren't sure if he'd truly listen. But you had to try. You'd never forgive yourself if you didn't.

Letting out a breath you had been holding in, you reluctantly approached him, slowly but with confidence. A purpose in your step. A song in your heart. Within a few steps, he seemed to hesitate in staying put. But he did as you requested. You thanked the maker for that. However your eyes widened as you approached him. The intense guilt swallowing him up. All across his scarred skin, it was plain as day. Wrecker was drowning in his sorrow completely. Wave by wave it was eating away at him. The way you could feel it radiating off his body. It hurt you. Broke you. You wanted to reach out and pull him so tightly against you. Telling him over and over again that you were okay, you were safe!

To see someone as loud and happy as Wrecker be so swallowed up in that hurt...it wasn't fair. He didn't deserve it. None of them did! The stupid fucking Empire. You were not a violent person, but you swore right there that you'd make them pay. One day they'd get what was coming for them.

The embers of your rising anger immediately cooled as his eyes drifted up to meet yours. Tears lined his eyes, some streams leaking down his rough cheeks. You couldn't bare it anymore. Taking four steps forward you reached out to touch him as he started to do the same, but quickly flinched and pulled his arm away. Your breath hitched in your throat. Heart skipping a beat at the action. You felt your heart shatter like glass.

Oh Wrecker.

Please..no

He was so afraid to touch you.

Afraid he'd inflict physical pain on you this time.

"Wrecker, I'm-I'm okay". You had to let him know—let him see that you alright. "I promise you I'm okay. You didn't physical hurt me. I know you'd never—

You saw him tense at those words. "But I did!". You noticed the rumble in his voice. The way in which his voice had raised in tone. How serious he was about what he had done.

You shook your head. "Rex pushed me out of the way!". You matched his tone, clenching your fist in one hand and gripping the fabric of your shirt in the other.

He shook his head furiously, "Don't lie. I did hurt you! I pointed my gun at you. I-I almost shot you!" he gestured to your body. "I could have t ki-killed you!"

"But you didn't". You reminded him, tears well last pouring down your cheeks, running down your neck by this point "He's okay. I'm okay, Wrecker! Besides it wasn't your fault! The Empire put those invasive chips into your head! And they turned you all into their own personal slaves! They violated you and took away your choices! Made thousands of clones—your brothers commit unspeakable things! They had no right to do that!". Your voice broke at how much pain laid in your heart at what they had done. The anguish in his voice was enough to break you into two.

"Don't you dare think for a second that you're to blame—that any of you are to blame for what happened. I won't let you! I won't watch you to that to yourself Wrecker. I will not watch the man that I love so dearly torment himself over something that is not his fault! I can't. It's too much. They took advantage of you. All of you. They took away your humanity!"

"(Y/N)-"

"No, Wrecker! They treated you like you were nothing and that is unacceptable. They treated all the clones like that. It pained me! None of you asked to be used like that. It-it's not fair. It's unjust, it's—"

His mouth was on you before you could even register what was happening. Catching you off balance momentarily before instinct took over and you proceeded to wrap your arms around his neck. Large hands grasped at your waist, pulling you closer to his armored chest. You willingly let him haul you closer as you too wanted it. One of your hands tugged at the back of his blacks and Wrecker moaned into your mouth. Causing your body to shuddered at such a noise.

Maker, if you didn't pull away he'd surely be the end of you. Not that you wouldn't have minded it. For kissing clone force 99's brute strength member was everything you had pictured and more. Something about the mixture of rich musk and gun powder crept into your senses and coiled around your veins. Sending tingles down your spine as its owners lips heated your body beyond measure.

How could kissing someone be this addicting? You had plenty of kisses before, but not a single one of them felt, tasted like this. None of them made you feel this electric. Bringing you to new heights. You could feel yourself losing touch as Wreckers hands gripped at your hips this time, making you arch into him. Pressing against him, you heard the groan from deep in his throat. That was moment you knew you had to stop. Unfortunately. You needed to tell him how you felt. Truly.

Very reluctantly you pulled back from him, disconnecting your lips from his. Scarlet quickly flooded both of his cheeks as well as yours. Two blushing messes. You couldn't help but giggle lightly.

"W-woah that was-"

You pursed your lips together and nodded. "Yeah, it was—"

"You said you loved me!". Wreckers eyes grew at suddenly realizing what you had said in an heated exchange. He was stunned to say the least.

"I did—I do Wrecker".

His grip on your hips tightened, "I hurt you!".

You shook your head. "Wrecker when will you understand that it was an accident and not your fault. Watching you tear yourself apart...it hurts me. To watch someone I care about—"

"Love". He cut you off, a small smile blooming across his face. "You love me...".

Again you nodded.

"You love me".

You couldn't help laugh at how out of nowhere his mood had changed. It was if someone had given him a happy pill or put something in his drink, not that he was drinking anything of course. Maybe his earlier activities with Omega had started to affect him now, or perhaps she had said something to him that was now coming to the forefront of his mind.

"HAHA YOU LOVE ME!" He cheered like a Wookie on life day. Before you could even respond, he picked you in, raising you up in the air and twirled you around like you were a child.

You vigorously nodded. Fits of laughter erupting from within you. Bringing a hand to rest on his pink dusted cheeks, "Yes, Wrecker". You exclaimed. "I love you. So much". A magnetic storm of love and protection and so much more flowed in you as you remained in his embrace, the place you never wanted to be without. From the person you never wanted to be parted from.

"I'm so sorry". He sniffled, setting you down gently. "I hurt Tech and Rex. I-I didn't mean to! And Omega I-I scared her. I saw how scared you were too".

Lifting yourself up, you took hold of his face between your palms. "Wrecker, Omega is okay. From how she hugged you earlier, I'd say she's more revealed that you're okay. She didn't want to lose any of her brothers. Rex and Tech too. Though Tech probably won't outright admit it".

Wrecker chuckled lightly, "hah yeah..I'm sorry that I avoided you". He apologized, melting under your touch and pressing a light kiss to your palm, causing you to blush.

"I understand why you did. Just promise me next time that you won't run away. Talk to me, Wrecker. You're important to me. To all of us".

He chuckled. "Y-yeah okay. I promise". He met your eyes fully this time and that wonderful warm smile that you loved so much was back, gracing his features. "I love you, (Y/N)".

You leaned up on your tippy toes to rest your forehead up against his. Wrecker was a gentle giant with a heart of gold. At times he could be more worried about his next bag of mantel mix then when he'd get to blow something up. He had stolen your heart unexpectedly and you'd let him keep it. For as long as he wanted it. Though if said gentle giant could have it his way, then he'd keep it forever. As you were the only person for him. That was crystal clear to him as the day he fell hopelessly in love with you.

#star wars #bad batch #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #clone force 99 #bad batch wrecker x reader #wrecker fanfic #bad batch wrecker #wrecker x reader #wrecker bad batch #tbb wrecker #bad batch x reader #tbb fanfiction #megabeewrites

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swedishboyfriend · 10 months

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fandoms really need to have a think about how they treat (learning)disabled and autistic characters, in canon and headcanon. the eagerness to infantalise these characters, and especially to strip them of their sexuality, is alarming. why do you see this adult character and instantly make them a weak, childlike, sexless being? is it because you don’t see disabled and autistic people as adult people? is it because disabled and autistic people are incapable of autonomous thought including sexuality? because disabled and autistic people are weak and helpless subhumans?

it’s also not a coincidence that these characters are also usually headcanoned as transmasc. so you see a male character as soft, weak, in need of protection, virginal and sexless? feminine, right? there is a whole thing on the internet of infantalising trans men just like this. because trans men are really just women. like that’s what you’re saying. (life hack: you can be misogynistic to trans men if you don’t see them as real men!)

you have been brainwashed by society’s views of disabled people and the palletable online ideal about trans men. you are subconciously playing into ableism, transphobia, and sexism. please rethink this. you will meet disabled and autistic people in real life with autonomy and sexuality. you will meet trans men who are big manly guys who fuck and have never heard of dan and phil. it shouldn’t shock you. real people exist.

#actuallyautistic #charlie kelly #will graham #abed nadir #heartbreak high

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lornaka · 3 months

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Hello! I remember you saying a bit ago that you didn't like it when fic writers "infantilized" Tech in their writing. Can you explain what you mean? I'm trying to write about him in my own story, but I'm proceeding very cautiously because I know his representation is important to a lot of people. So I'd like to hear more of your thoughts. Thanks!

Basically I’ve been seeing a lot of Tech being presented as the pure oblivious baby uwu who needs to be coddled and protected, as opposed to the incredibly capable actual genius super soldier who’s shown great understanding of people around him, be it his own siblings (his analysis of Crosshair’s behavior), or people like Cid (where he was completely aware of her pattern of questionable behavior towards the Batch and actively tracking the risks associated with it).

He might not pick up on things like social cues perfectly, that’s up for interpretation, and we know that he processes and expresses emotions differently but in my eyes, by no means does that mean that he is naive to the reality around him or less capable of drawing the right conclusions when it comes to interpersonal interactions than his brothers. And when/if he does struggle with those things, it doesn’t make him a helpless child that needs to be protected from any discomfort. If misunderstandings or uncomfortable situations happen, he should be allowed to deal with them as the fully grown and highly intelligent man that he is.

Which leads me to another point: I’ve seen some fans make him into this pure soul with childlike innocence, depriving him of any personality flaws. In my eyes, Tech is not a saint and is as flawed as anyone else, and to grow as a person he must learn to meet others halfway, like he did with Omega in The Crossing. And not in a beating-himself-up-for-messing-up kind of way (because that serves nothing but to again show “look how sweet and unproblematic he is! Poor baby is hurting!”) but in a he-is-an-adult-who-takes-responsibility-for-how-his-behavior-affects-others kind of way.

This is my personal interpretation, at least. I’m not saying it’s any more valid than anyone else’s and if someone disagrees, that’s fine. But this is where I’m at regarding Tech’s character.

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siempre-bucky · 2 years

Text

Scrapbook

Robert 'Bob' Floyd x Fem!Reader

Summary: to soothe your daughter while Bob's deployed, you finally show her a scrapbook that detailed your long relationship with the wso.

wc: 2k

1am rolled around, your eyes were burning and your lower back was aching as you straightened your spine on your headboard. Your lap was covered with completed work from your Top Gun students. You took in a deep breath and rolled your neck side to side, trying to release some of the tension. They'd be in the air soon enough, it seemed like the cockpit of a jet was your only source of relaxation.

Picking up another paper, your eyes began to scan the words. Concentration didn't last long, your door gently began to open, sad sniffles coming through first. You looked up as your daughter slid into the room sheepishly. "Amy," you cooed, leaning forward, "what's wrong, sweetheart?"

The 8-year-old was silent as she made her way to your bed, climbing up where you welcomed her with open arms after placing your stack of papers on the table. "I just really miss dad tonight," she whimpered into your side, fighting back another round of tears.

Your heart plummeted as you listened to her soft cries. Bob’s special detachment was taking longer than expected. One month turned into three, and three turned into four. She wasn’t used to this like you were. “He’ll be home soon, baby,” you tried to tell her as you rocked her gently.

“You said that last time,” she sniffled.

You maneuvered your body and moved the little girl so that she was resting in between your legs. Amy laid her head on your chest and let out another shaking sob. Tears were starting to form in your own eyes, feeling helpless for her. “What do you miss the most? Sometimes it's good to talk about it.”

Amy straightened her glasses and her sobs started to subside, “I miss,” she hummed in thought, “when daddy picks me up from school—we go get ice cream by the beach. He always gets the basic flavors.” There was the little giggle you were hoping for as she spoke with a distaste for Bob’s ice cream choices. He was never adventurous with food if he could help it, his friends always had to pester him into trying new things; tried Neapolitan ice cream one time and he nearly lost his damn mind. “What do you miss, mommy?”

You sighed and fought back more tears as you thought about the reserved blond. You missed his gentle touch when he slid his hand down your forearm before interlacing your fingers, the way he would flirtatiously wink at you while you taught your class as he passed by the window, the soft domestic moments with his children. There was a lot to pick from, “I miss his laugh,” you managed, swallowing hard.

“Mommy!” you heard your little one shout from her room.

You looked down at Amy’s solemn face as Jo cried for you again. “You should go,” Amy whispered, fighting back the bitterness in her tone. She started to move away but you clutched onto her tighter, pressing a loud kiss to her temple.

“Wanna do me a favor?” you asked. She nodded, looking up at you. “I’m gonna go get Josephine back to sleep and I want you to go into my office and get the baby blue photo book off my bookshelf, it's huge you can't miss it. Meet me back here, but you gotta promise me you won’t open it until I get back, ok?”

Amy grinned and wiped her eyes as she hurriedly got off your bed, “Ok!” she giggled.

—

You walked back into your room, smiling at Amy who was lightly bouncing on your bed out of excitement. “What is it, what is it?” she beamed as her wide childlike eyes watched you take your place back in bed. She grabbed the binder and clutched it to her chest, getting on her knees and crawling to cuddle beside you.

“Ready?” you asked as you grabbed the corner.

“Mhmm!” Amy bit her lower lip and nodded enthusiastically. Her eyes were trained to the book as you opened it, a little gasp escaping her throat as she saw the neatly placed photographs of you and Bob during your childhood before you met. “Dad,” she giggled as she saw a photo of him as a little boy playing with farm animals. “He’s always had glasses too?”

“Sure did,” you told her as you let her take control of turning the pages. Amy took her time with her eyes taking in every photograph, trying to commit the way you looked as children to memory. "You look like him when he was your age," you said softly, booping her nose.

She nuzzled closer to you during the childhood pages. Her fingers trace the embroidered design of one of Bob's boy scout patches, "I want to earn one like this…it's pretty," she stated, glancing at his troop photo.

You couldn't help rolling your eyes when she called your prom dress ugly. "It was fashionable," you defended, shaking your head. Amy looked up at you and formed a face, her lips deep set in a grimace.

"Mine will be," she smirked.

You playfully scoffed and nudged her "And if you have kids they're gonna call it ugly too."

Amy huffed and kept gently turning the pages, her excitement only rising as she got to your flight school years where you and Bob first met. She giggled at all the photos he did the famed ‘rock on’ hand gesture. "He's so weird," she groaned like the typical daughter embarrassed of her father.

She listened carefully to the stories you told her about the photos.

"Rooster took that one when we got deployed," you told her, pointing to a photograph of the two of you in a bar, simply smiling for the camera. His smile was shy, that must've been from the early years of dating, back when you and Bob decided it was safer to keep your relationship a secret.

Amy turned the page, her eyes instantly going to the one in the center. She got a little closer, narrowing her eyes to see the details better. You stood in front of a jet, candidly laughing while Bob climbed up the ladder as he spoke with one of the guys on the ground. Amy adjusted her glasses. Your last name was different on the plane, but both of you were on the plane?

"You were dad's front seater!" She exclaimed at the new knowledge, turning to you in shock. You had a soft, fond smile on your lips as you ran your hand down the back of her head.

"We were a team for a long time. The best they'd seen in a while."

You were excited the day you had gotten your assignment, the universe decided to throw you a bone and make the shy wso you had a crush on your back seater. Your feelings only grew in the box, Bob was a totally different person while he worked. You fell in love with the man inside and out of the box. "Talk to me, Bobby." You remember you let slip once, you also remembered the crimson blush on his pale cheeks after landing.

Amy leaned in closer, taking the book with her to look at the photos of you and him together. "Why don't you fly together anymore?" She asked softly.

You gently moved her hands and went forward a few pages to your wedding. "We wanted to get married, the Navy didn't allow us to fly together anymore—but, I got something so much better," you giggled, looking down at the two rings on your left hand.

"Still lame though," she mumbled dryly.

Her favorite part of the book so far was the uranium mission, her face lit up by the photos of her favorite people. She blushed at the sight of Jake's abs from dogfight football and was delighted by all the photos of Bob and Phoenix. There was something missing…you were in none of these. "Mom? You didn't fly that mission?"

You shook your head and yawned, noticing your eyes were becoming heavy. "No," you yawned again, sinking lower into your pillows. "I was assigned but I had to disobey orders," you teased, urging the confused girl to turn the page.

A sonogram was glued in the top corner, and a photograph of Bob tearing up with the pregnancy test in his hands was right below it. "Me?" Her eyebrows knitted together, eyes scanning the page.

"Mhm," you acknowledged, "Found out we were having you a couple of days before we were told about the mission. I knew I couldn't keep you safe and fly." Amy didn't need to know the details and all the fear that came with that mission.

You yawned again.

She looked over to you and rolled her eyes playfully, “Go to bed, mom,” she told you and she didn’t have to tell you twice. You pulled her in for one last hug, pushing her glasses higher on her face for her.

“You can keep looking, baby,” you told her as you took a last loving look at the girl before you rolled over and snuggled into the warm blankets. Amy turned off the lights, keeping Bob’s bedside light on as she got comfortable on his side of the bed.

It didn’t take long for you to reach the precipice of sleep, your body comfortably tingling as the darkness became even darker. Almost there—almost there—your ringtone started to blare, a light evaporating the darkness. “Shit,” you groaned quietly as you cracked open an eye, your hand slapping down on top of your phone. ‘Fanboy’ it read. “What do you want, Mickey?” you groan as you press it to your ear, your frown deepening as you heard Amy’s defeated sigh.

“I thought you’d be happy to hear from one of us, baby,” Bob teased from the other end.

You instantly started to tear up at the sound of his sweet voice, your other hand covering your eyes. “H-hey,” you greeted kinder this time around.

“Don’t cry, my love. Fanboy miraculously got service and wanted me to make sure I got to talk to you,” Bob chuckled, “I have good news…we’re coming home.”

“You said that last time,” you sighed.

“You can tell the girls.” That was always his way of promising that he was on his way home, not wanting his daughters to get false hope each time away. He learned the hard way, hearing his girls cry as he told them his mission was going to take longer than expected.

A weight was lifted off your shoulders as soon as the words left his mouth, “I’ll tell them in the morning,” you whispered happily. As much as you wanted to listen to his stories, and laugh along at something your friends said and how the mission was going, there was someone that needed Bob more. “Honey,” you began as you rolled to the other side, “will you call me back in the morning or when you get service? There’s a little girl who really needs her dad.”

Amy’s ears perked up, her eyes still pinned to the scrapbook.

“Of course, darlin’. I love you.”

“Baby bob,” you reached out and tapped her arm, “do you wanna talk to dad?”

Her eyes went wide, a large smile breaking out on her face as she snatched your phone and pressed it to her ear gruffly. “Daddy,” she giggled happily, rubbing her eye underneath her glasses from the welled up tears. With a sudden gasp, she slammed the scrapbook shut with a loud smack before standing up on the bed. “Dad! Mom showed me the book she made! Can you tell me about when you broke your arm? Or, or what about the time you won the Little League championship? Wait! Dad! I wanna know about when you and mom first flew together,” she ranted excitedly, jumping off the bed and made her way to the door.

You sat up and smiled as she closed the door, remembering to softly close it so she wouldn’t wake her sister. You picked up the book and turned it to the last filled page, moving it back and forth only to notice it was the very last page of the book. Looks like it was time to start another book with new memories.

#bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x fem!reader #dad!bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fluff #top gun #top gun maverick #lewis pullman

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