#it was a breath of fresh air on a level i did not expect. I got 2 dialogues in a row about excavators?

[shalomniscient]

natlan 5.1 was batshit insane but i won't deny cookery when i see it. last 1/3 of the archon quest is just brilliantly done in my opinion, from writing to level design to soundtrack. just genuine excellence

[loveletterworm]

deep cut are the hosts of the world’s first 12 second long podcast

[virtualvault]

The Royal Treatment

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x f!reader

Summary: Reluctant to join the festivities at May’s birthday party, things start looking up for Miguel when he’s able to get the Princess Peter hired alone in the bathroom.

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+ ONLY, teasing, begging, oral (f receiving),fingering, unprotected p in v, pet names ( princess, your highness), fingering,  praise, dirty talk, choking, handjob, cum swallowing. Reader is referred to as small/ short in comparison to Miguel and he’s able to pick reader up, but in my head everyone is small in comparison to him so it isn’t necessarily a defining characteristic of reader.

W/C: 3.7k

A/N: First Miguel fic yayy. This has been in my drafts for forever and I finally got the motivation to flesh it out. I had a lot of fun with it.  Enjoy :)

Miguel was being his normal grumpy self, standing in the corner of the party while everyone socializes loudly around him. He quickly relocates to the backyard where he can at least get some fresh air and a little space. But all too soon everyone is making their way to the yard as well for the upcoming attraction that, unbeknownst to Miguel, would quickly pull him out of his funk.

It’s May's birthday and while Miguel adores her, the snotty kids and loud parents crowding around him make him wish he was anywhere else. Despite his natural instincts to flee, he decides to stay. He’d really love to see the look on May’s face when she opens his gift.

While he's silently cursing the obnoxious children running past, you float into the backyard, and he’s glad he held out. And you truly did float. The shiny tiara and beautiful gown almost made him believe you were actual royalty. He's so entranced he doesn't even notice the screeching children as they flock around you, oohing and aahing at your costume. May is the first to reach you and you curtsey to her, making her giggle.

The first time you speak, his breath catches in his throat. Your voice has this beautiful sing-songy tone. It's enchanting, capturing the attention of not only the kids but the adults as well. Your gentle manner and honeyed tone hypnotize Miguel and he can’t look away. You’re clearly dedicated to your craft, carrying yourself with a level of grace befitting a real princess. The kids love it, but Miguel is the most enthralled; his eyes never leave you. If you weren’t so preoccupied with the other guests, you surely would notice him staring you down.

He roams the perimeter of the group for the duration of your 'act', planning to just admire you from afar. But when his eyes finally meet yours when you head inside with Peter to grab a well-earned drink and your check, he hastily follows. He doesn’t really have a plan he just know he needs to at least speak with you.

You’re standing in the kitchen sipping your water as Peter is telling you how satisfied he is with your service. He says he needs to get back to his daughter and Miguel conveniently swoops in and offers to show you out. Peter thanks him and retreats back to the yard.

“That’s a beautiful costume” Miguel comments, hungrily eyeing your body under the guise of simply admiring your attire. You reply with a quick, 'thank you' and he expected you to drop the princess act but your voice still holds that dulcet tone that has his pants tightening. It’s not as exaggerated, seeing as you’re not trying to fool any children, but just as tantalizing.

Unbeknownst to Miguel, you had felt his eyes on you earlier but did everything you could to keep your focus on the other guests. You take your job very seriously, but his intense gaze made it difficult. So, when you were escorted inside you had to gulp down your water and try to regain your bearings.

When you first spotted him, his tall imposing frame had you a bit intimidated, yet had your mind reeling with thoughts of what he could do to you. He can make anyone feel small and you are no exception. Your mind quickly conjured up the thought of him having you caged in against your bed, pressing you firmly to the mattress as he thrusts deep inside you. You had to shake yourself out of the fantasy quickly to turn your focus back to the crowd.

When he steps into the kitchen, you're on edge again, trying to push away the intrusive thoughts. You try your best not to just stand there, mouth agape and drooling at him, making it obvious you want him to defile you. You don't know what's gotten into you. It’s not that you never get these kinds of thoughts, but this level of intensity and depravity feels new.

He’s very intriguing, but you can’t find the courage to look him in the eyes. While he's scanning your frame, you take a deep breath and try to steady the quiver in your voice. “Um, I need to change. I've got kind of a far drive. Can you show me where the bathroom is?” you ask, impressed you formed a coherent sentence, even going so far as to finally meet his gaze. 

“Oh, yeah. Right this way.” he guides you up the stairs to the guest bathroom at the end of the hall.

 “I'll just wait out here. This house is a maze, I doubt you’d be able to find your way out.” he offers, hoping to spend just a little more time with you. It may be a little inappropriate but he might just ask for your number. You nod and slip into the bathroom. 

As you go to pull your clothes out of your bag, you’re hit with a sudden realization that has you stopping in your tracks. You had your roommate help you zip up your dress. How are you supposed to get out of it on your own? You frantically reach behind you to try to get a grasp on the zipper. You don't even get close. Left with only one option, you shuffle to the door, and are welcomed with a slightly confused look from the man in front of you. You clearly hadn’t changed yet and he looks at you, brow raised.

 “Um…can you…uh… undress me?” you sputter, realizing how that sounded, and frantically try to correct yourself.

“I mean unzip! I…I can’t reach the zipper, can you help? Please?” a small smile appears on his face at your flustered state.

“Of course, your highness.” He playfully bows to you, making you giggle. Still standing in the doorway, you turn around and he reaches for the zipper. He unzips it slowly and can’t help but drag the back of his finger along your skin on the way down. You let out a small gasp as you feel a tingle spread across your skin. He finishes, but doesn’t step back.

“It’s a shame, you really do look pretty in this dress. I’m sure you look even better with it off, but the whole princess thing really suits you.” he says lowly, and you feel his breath fan against your neck. 

 "Do you have anyone taking care of you like one?” his question flusters you so you simply shake your head.   

“No? Tsk, Tsk, Tsk. Why don’t you let me show you how a princess deserves to be treated. Hm?” the rasp in his voice has your thighs clenching together and without even thinking you squeak out, “Yes, please.”

 You mentally scold yourself for giving in to a complete stranger so quickly, but no part of you wants to turn down the offer. He's obviously delighted and you feel him smile against your skin as he places his lips on your shoulder. He surprises you when he zips your dress back up, seeing as you’re ready for him to tear it off you.

 He guides you back into the bathroom and shuts the door, making sure to lock it. Then, he pushes you gently against the counter, having you face the mirror, and proceeds to pull the sleeves down over your shoulders, planting kisses from one side to the other. 

"Aren’t you going to take it off?" you ask sounding slightly confused and then clamp your mouth shut, not wanting to sound impatient.

Miguel chuckles softly, enjoying your eagerness. "Next time." he replies. "You just look so delicious in this pretty little dress of yours."

 He sucks in a deep breath as he peers at your body in the mirror, taking in your silk clad form. Then he flicks his gaze to your parted lips. You're watching him with baited breath, anxiously waiting for his hands to finally start roaming your body. They currently sit firmly planted on your waist and he can tell you're wanting more. He can’t help but toy with you, though. There’s part of him that’s desperate to give you what he knows you want but there’s another part of him that wants to hear you ask or, preferably, beg for it. The latter part wins and his hand moves to grab the length of your dress, rubbing the fabric in between his fingers. You immediately miss the warmth of his hands, something you could feel even through the fabric of the dress.

“The whole time you were putting on your little show all I could think about was lifting up the back of this gown and getting a taste of what’s underneath.” he remarks. You noticeably shiver at the feeling of his lips moving against your ear as he speaks with a low, gravelly voice. Every time he talks you can feel the rumble in his chest, which is pressed firmly against your back. You can also feel his impressive length against your backside that has been rock hard the moment he pressed it against you. All of these things in combination with one another are overwhelming your senses and anticipation pulses through you. You need him. Now.

With desperation clear in your voice, you blurt out, “Please, touch me.”

He gazes at you with a dark look in his eyes and an amused expression on his face.

“I need more.” you add. Your eyes leave his in the mirror to turn over your shoulder and look at him directly. Instead of pressing his lips to yours like he’s so tempted to do, he lets you continue.

“You said you wanted a taste, didn’t you?” you tug on his wrist, urging him to move it lower. He decides he’s teased you long enough. He presses you harder into the counter before moving away and throwing up your dress, handing the fabric to you.

“Hold this for me, princess.” you grab at the fabric although your reaction was a little delayed as the pet name has pleasure shooting straight to your core.

He caresses softly up and down your thighs, and starts kneading your cheeks. The gentleness lasts only a few seconds and you let out a gasp as he rips your pantyhose. As he kneels behind you, he lets out an audible groan. You assume it’s because he spotted the wet patch on your underwear. It must be pretty prominent considering you’ve been dripping wet the moment you saw him. Before you know it, he rips those as well.

With your arousal now fully exposed you can feel his breath wafting over your wet sex, and you shiver at the sensation. He starts teasingly sucking at your folds one at a time, placing one soft kiss to your clit before dipping his tongue into your entrance. He eats you out like he's starving and your legs shake as his tongue dances against your walls.

After exploring your heat thoroughly, he runs his tongue from your entrance to your clit, back and forth, sucking on it gently each time he reaches it. As the rhythm gets faster and faster, so does your breathing. Your teeth clamp down on your bottom lip to try to stifle your moans, not wanting anyone to overhear. What would the parents say if the party princess was upstairs getting eaten out in a frenzy by a man she just met. You push those worries aside as the pleasure builds. You bring the fabric in your left hand and join it with the right, then reach back and grab onto his hair and start gently pushing his face further into you, urging him on.

He easily brings you to the edge with his movements but before you can reach your release, he pulls his face from you. You whine, but the disappointment quickly fades as your excitement over the prospect of him being inside of you grows. Once he's upright, you attempt to face him, wanting to go down on him too. He senses your intentions but holds you in place against the counter.

 “I’m meant to kneel to the princess, not the other way around.” he playfully whispers in your ear. He appreciates your enthusiasm but he's fine saving that for another time. He's desperate to be inside you.

He bends you over and you place your hands against the counter to steady yourself. He pushes your knees apart and wedges himself between your thighs, pulling your hips back to meet his bulge and can’t help but rub himself against you. The fabric adds a wonderful friction and you mewl in response.

Reluctantly, he pulls away, then proceeds to run his fingers through your folds before dipping them into your entrance. You're soaking wet but he takes a few seconds to work you open. He knows how big he is and wants to make sure you're ready to take every inch of him.  When he knows you're ready, he pulls his fingers away and releases his aching erection from his pants. He immediately begins stroking up and don’t his shaft, coating himself in your arousal.

Blinded by your desperation for him, you hadn’t really thought about his size being a problem, until you feel him run his length through your folds. You can feel just how big he is and you take a deep breath to calm your nerves. He presses into you slowly, and the head of his dick already feels impossibly huge. But as he slides in, you stretch and melt around him. He lets out a throaty moan at the way your walls grip him.

You hiss at the intrusion, but the slight burn fades quickly as his shallow thrusts push deeper and deeper. As he gains more momentum, he's pushing your stomach against the counter and you feel yourself being pushed up onto your tippy toes. He notices and takes one of your legs and sets your knee up onto the counter and the other is left dangling as he supports your upper body. His strength to support all of you is impressive, but not surprising.

He sets one arm against your waist and tries grabbing at your chest with the other, but can’t get a good grip through your dress. So, he opts for your throat instead. His grip is loose, just to help stabilize you, but you hum in approval and you lean against him. You lift your head up to look at him through the mirror.

"Harder." you plead and grab his wrist, prompting him to tighten his grip. He growls at the pleading look in your eyes and desperate tone in your voice and squeezes firmly, adding a delicious pressure to the sides of your throat. You hear his deep breaths and grunts in your ear as he quickens his pace and the sounds stoke the warmth in your belly.

This new angle has him brushing up against that tender spot inside of you and you know if he keeps going like this you’re going to cum. He knows this too. He can tell just by the look on your face and feels you clench even harder around him when he brings his hand down to your slippery, throbbing nub and begins working it.

Your mouth falls open into a silent scream at the added stimulation and Miguel glances back up to take in the magnificent view in front of him. Your tiara is askew, slipping slightly off your head, and your lips are bitten from how you've been holding them between your teeth, trying to keep quiet.

“Look at you.” He says breathily, leaning down to kiss up the side of your neck.

“So pretty. Who’s my pretty princess?” he asks, his dark eyes meeting yours. You let out a pathetic whine and turn your head away. His words send a shiver up your spine, but are unable to hold his gaze, suddenly feeling bashful at the praise. He notices, but continues.

“Hm? Who’s my pretty princess?” his hand leaves your throat to grip your jaw, forcing you to look at him in the mirror. He slows his thrusts now to a maddeningly slow pace, awaiting your answer.

“I am.” you say, voice barely above a whisper. He caresses your jaw with his thumb, but continues looking at you expectantly. It takes you a second to figure out what he wants, but eventually the realization hits you. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your voice.

Now matching the intensity of his gaze, you reply “I'm your pretty princess.” His eyes flutter closed at your response. His hips stutter, then stop completely and he breaths in deeply, obviously trying to regain some composure.

Your lips curl up into a small smile at his reaction. His words have been flustering you since the moment he spoke. They've had you falling apart on his dick as he whispers filth into your ear while he takes you from behind. But now you get to see your words have the same effect on him, and a wave of confidence surges through you.

When he finally opens his eyes, he has this look in his eyes, like he wants to devour you, and it spurs you on.  You begin grinding yourself down onto him, fucking yourself back and forth on his dick as he stands behind you and he sees there's a playful smirk plastered on your face. A growl rumbles form his chest and he returns his hand to your throat.

 Momentarily overcome with the way your hips meet his and the drag of your wet, warm heat, his eyes fall closed again. He's tempted to let you continue, but the desire to see you cum, feel your walls spasm around him, has eyes snapping open. Without warning, he starts fucking you at the unrelenting pace he set earlier.

He knocks the smirk right off your face and you cry out as he pounds into you, his hand returning to your clit. Before you know it, you feel that familiar pressure building in your core, your breaths come in jagged gasps now, and he knows you're close.

 “I wanna feel it. Come on, give it to me.” he demands. He swipes faster at your clit you let out a squeak before you’re tumbling over the edge. Your body goes rigid against him as the waves of pleasure crash through you. You try to cover your mouth in an attempt to dampen the embarrassingly loud moans he’s pulling from you, but he pushes your hand away, wanting to hear every sound that falls from your lips.

As the aftershocks rip through you, his fingers leave your clit to grip the counter. He feels you pulsating and squeezing around him and it’s drawing him closer to his own release. His brows furrow and he's panting in your ear. You're a bit dazed from your climax, but you see the look on his face and the boldness from earlier takes over.

Before you can stop yourself, you pull his face to yours and tease, “Is princess gonna make you come?”

The noise that pulls from him is one that Miguel's never heard himself make, a mixture between a whine and a groan. His hips stutter and you hear him babble, “pretty pretty pretty” as he kisses the side of your face, down your neck.

A few moments later he’s pulling out and preparing to cum over your ass; before he can you're spinning around and falling to your knees. You don't know what's gotten into you, but you’ll attribute your brazenness to the praise he was just singing to you in combination with your post orgasm haze. You're looking up at him through your lashes and you grab him at the base, giving his dick quick, wet strokes.

You look up at him and his eyes are on you, enjoying the view from above. His lips part and he sucks in shallow breaths at the way you're cradling his balls while your arousal allows your hand to glide up and down his shaft with ease.

You smile up at him and purr, “Make me prettier.” You lean your head back, closing your eyes and sticking out your tongue, ready to feel his warmth spread across your skin.

"Oh fuck." he moans, feeling his balls tighten in response.

His body tenses, blood pumping hot, and with a deep groan erupting from his chest, he spurts his seed over you. You hum as you swallow and the tangy taste goes down surprisingly smooth. He looks down at you, admiring the way your tongue swipes the corners of your mouth, not letting one drop go to waste.

When he recovers, he wets the hand towel and cleans off the rest from your face. His movements are gentle, contrasting his previous actions, and he smiles sweetly down at you.

"All clean, your highness." he says softly. He sticks out his hand and helps you to your feet.

“I guess I better actually help you out of this, now.” he chuckles and unzips the dress, resisting the urge to pull it off you and drag you to one of the bedrooms for round two. But he needs to get back to the party before someone comes looking.

"Thank you.” you say over your shoulder and subconsciously lean into him. He kisses you quickly, yet deeply, before excusing himself to the hall to let you get dressed.

As he walks you out, you exchange numbers. When you finally reach the door, he finds himself struggling to pull his hand from the small of your back, not wanting to see you go.

“Thanks for all your help.” you say with a wink. You stand up on your toes and pull down to you for one last kiss. Before you pull away, he feels you slip something into his pocket. As you make your way back to your car, he slips his hand into his pocket, chuckling and shaking his head as his fingers feel the familiar lace material of your underwear that he ripped off you earlier. As he thumbs the fabric, he's already thinking about getting to pull them off you again.

[writingsfromhome]

Impossibly Real

A/N: cute little story about being in a rough dating world and having a nice neighbour friend.

Part 2

———————————————————

I memorize the face on my phone whilst standing in the middle of my building lobby. I study it as if I hadn’t been staring at his pictures since we both swiped right a couple weeks ago.

“Hot date?” A voice calls out. I look up to the source—one of my neighbours with takeaway in one hand and a case of beer in the other. The smell of his dinner makes my stomach rumble—I’d skipped dinner myself for this 8pm date.

“A very hot date,” I respond. Harry was one of the first people I’d interacted with when I moved to this complex a year and a half ago. He’d helped me move my boxed mattress in and I thanked him with a lukewarm beer. Ever since, we’d pick up on conversation every time we saw each other.

Most of those times were when we’d both be rushing out to work in the morning. Sometimes he’d walk to the tube with me, both of us going in opposite directions. Other times his girlfriend would pick him up.

“Let’s see,” he switches his beer to the other hand and holds his hand out.

I pretend to open the app and look for my date’s profile as if it hadn’t been open for the last three hours. He makes a sound of approval when I pass it over.

“Right?” I grin as he scans the profile.

I wasn’t always lucky in love. When Harry first met me I was fresh out of a 3 year relationship, and the only things to follow were bad dates and lonely nights.

“Likes pizza?” Harry says like he’d just caught sight of the guy’s private pictures.

“Yeah? So what?” I feel my defences go up. “Who doesn’t?”

“Yeah but that’s so…basic.” He hands the phone back. “That’s like saying ‘Drinks tea’ or ‘breathes air’.”

“No it’s not!” I wanted this to be a good one so badly, I wouldn’t hear any of Harry’s slander. “It’s relatable, and shows he’s down to earth.”

Harry groans. “Remind me what you do for work?”

I squint at him, unsure where he was going with his. “Analyst.”

“Ah,” he switches his beer back to his other hand and it snaps me out of the moment. I always lost track of time talking to Harry and this couldn’t be one of those times. I had somewhere to be!

“Ah what?” I glance at the door.

“As an analyst you’re used to reading into things-“

“Piss off!” I shut him down. “I’m leaving now.”

“I’m joking!” Harry calls out. “I’m sure he’s a great guy.”

I don’t respond to him as I walk away but he calls out my name.

“You look great, it’ll be a good date.”

“Fingers crossed,” I echo. “Enjoy your night.”

I find a taxi quickly and sit on my hands the whole way there so I don’t pick at my nails. There was no such thing as out of my league, I remind myself. He was just going to be a guy. A good looking guy.

***

“I’m getting a bit tipsy,” Dave admits. It was half past 9 and we’d had 5 drinks total, one of those being a nervous shot when he hadn’t showed up in the first ten minutes.

“We should get something to eat!” I suggest.

He grimaces. “It’s a bit overpriced in here.”

Oh. He was cheap.

That was rude. I snap out of my darkening thoughts. I couldn’t help it: not only was Dave late, he looked 5 years older than his pictures, which wasn’t a bad thing, but he was also 5 inches shorter than his profile stated.

It was awkward when he came in and I got up to hug him. I’d worn my 3 inch heels expecting to still come to his chest but we’d met at eye level instead. I didn’t want to make it awkward so I had sat down quickly. I regretted wearing these heels. They were chaffing against my feet even whilst sitting.

And the whole evening had been stiff conversation, like rubbing sandpaper against itself. It had ended in a dull evening. He was cute. That was all he had going for him.

“There’s a really good pizza place around here!” I say casually, like I hadn’t Googled the vicinity for an hour after we’d made plans. “I heard it was rated top 10 in the city.

His grimace comes back, it made him more unattractive the more he did it.

“I can go for some chips. There’s probably one down the road, you alright for a walk?”

“Great!” Maybe some fresh air and a change of scenery could spice the night up.

He pays the bill—maybe he wasn’t so cheap, I think. That is until we get to the chips shop and he hangs back for me to order for us. And pay.

I can already imagine retelling this date to my girl friends. They were all engaged or married so my dating stories were always amusing content for our hangouts.

Crossing from 20 to 30 made the stories more tragic than amusing, but I lived to laugh and that’s what I usually did after getting over bad dates like this one.

“It’s a nice night,” Dave says when we get our chips. He douses his in ketchup like a toddler would. Gah!

“It is…”

“Let’s take these outside.”

I’d rather not, with my heels digging into the backs of my feet and the blisters chafing against the fake leather. But I agree.

“So what’s with the pink?” He asks randomly.

“What?” I say over a mouthful of chip. I didn’t care how disgusting I was at this point. He’d done the bill-for-a-bill thing without asking and I’d lost any hope I had for the evening. I may as well be gross.

“The pink, you’ve got it at the bottoms of your hair and your earrings, your lips and your skirt and your heels-“

“I like pink.”

“That’s obvious,” he says dryly. “Is there a story behind it or something? Usually only schoolgirls wear their favourite colour that much.”

And usually only younger boys have fries with they ketchup rather ketchup with their fries, I want to say. But I keep my mouth shut.

“I think it’s overrated that getting older means getting all serious and boring. Pink’s my favourite colour and the world can know it. Be brighter for knowing it too.”

I keep my tone light yet Dave seems to takes my personal philosophy as a direct attack.

“But it’s a bit juvenile isn’t it? You don’t have to be boring just because you’re an adult but no one’s going to take you much seriously all dressed in pink. It’s a bit childish.”

“Not childish enough for you to want to go on a date with me,” I say. My pink hair was on display in my profile as well as many pink outfits throughout my linked Instagram. I know he’d seen it.

“That’s not what I’m talking about, not like that.” He backtracks. His face turns my favourite colour, even in the dark.

“When grown men are obsessed with Star Wars or Lord of the Rings or whatever, nobody bats an eye. They show up with fictional characters on their shirt and tattooed on their arms and it’s all dandy. But you think the world’s going to take me less seriously because I wear a lot of pink?”

“Okay I think there’s been a misunderstanding here.” Dave backs down like I knew he would. I’d known too many boys like him, who charged up when they thought they had an ounce of intellect over me. Reciprocate with even an ounce of assertive energy and they back down like a well-trained dog.

This night was tragic. My hopes up for nothing. And my feet were blistered for no damn reason.

“I think we’ve understood each other just fine.” I wipe my hands on a napkin and toss the rest of my chips away, ignoring the look Dave gives me. “It was a night, I’m going to head home now.”

“Look I-“

“Goodnight.” I walk away. I had no idea what direction but as long as I can end the night with the hope-zapper Dave.

***

On the lift up to my flat I look at myself in the mirror. Dead eyes, flushed and puffy face from the alcohol, and my hair was voluminous from the windy night air. I couldn’t wait to get to my flat and take my stupid heels off. They were so painful they’d now actually gone numb.

My phone rings as I get to my door. Dave. The nerve of that guy!

I put it on silent and fish out my keys but my phone buzzes a second time and I drop them.

“Fuck!” I say just as the door behind me opens.

“Woah!” Harry steps back into his flat after nearly tripping over my crouched figure.

“Ugh sorry,” I stand back up, keys looped around my finger.

“You’re back early.” Harry slowly eyes me from top to bottom. It makes my stomach feel like a washing machine on high. “Nice night with pizza guy?”

“Pizza guy was just like the others.”

I lean against my door and ignore my phone that’s now gone off for the third time in my purse.

“Fair enough. He did say he likes pizza.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” I whine. “I just wasted £30 on shite company.”

“Can I offer you a beer or have you had too many?”

I look down at my watch. It was half past 10, and I had work tomorrow but life was short and I was miserable so I follow Harry in.

“I’ll just toss this later.”

It’s only then I realize Harry had a trash bag in his hands and he was in his boxers and a robe. He rests the bag near his door and motions to the fridge as he walks down his hall. “Grab me one too?”

I’d been in Harry’s flat a few time, once when I baked too many sugar cookies for Christmas and he invited me in to eat with him. Another time when he was having a birthday party. I had thought it was cute his friends had done that for him old school. The last time was when my wifi stopped working one weekend and I had to ask him to use his. That was a nice day, both of us were going through busy season and had worked side by side on our laptops until Harry announced we were losers and should stop working to get dinner and watch a movie. That was one of my favourite days living in this complex so far.

I’m still standing in his kitchen when he comes out with sweatpants.

“Why are you still standing there?”

I look down at my shoes and so does he.

“Don’t you want to take those off?” Harry lifts one brow, confused.

“I’m scared.” I say. I didn’t know what I’d find. I felt like I was standing in a pool of blood.

“Why?” Harry was lucky he didn’t know the fear of taking off awful shoes after a long day of breaking them in. Men were lucky that way.

I shift my heel away from the back of the shoe and pain shoots up. It sounds sticky. I whimper. “Can you get me a chair?”

“What did you wear?” Harry’s staring at them with a mixture of fear and confusion. He carries one of his dining chairs to me. “Those are like, torture heels.”

“Tonight was torture.” I sit down and cross my foot over my knee. I take a deep breath. Harry hovers above me not able to look away. “Here goes nothing.”

I pry the shoe away and nearly cry.

“Oh my god!” Harry shouts. “Yo-you’re bleeding! What the f-“

“Oh my god,” I was dripping onto his floor. “Can I get-“

“Tissue!” Harry’s already throwing me his roll but I knock it away.

“I need help. Getting. To the bathroom.”

“Right right.” Harry kicks my shoe away and leans down so I can wrap my arm around his shoulder. I feel like an injured football player but so much more pathetic as I limp to his bathroom.

He sets me down on his toilet seat and blasts the tub with water.

“Sorry,” I limp to the edge of his bathtub and swing myself so that my feet dangle in. “I didn’t mean to intrude on your night.”

“I’m glad you did,” Harry’s voice still carries a hint of shock. “What is wrong with you? That’s diabolical you wearing shoes like that! What’s wrong with trainers? Or sandals? Don’t girls like strap sandals?”

“It just comes with being a woman okay?” I couldn’t answer all his questions. “I still need to take off the other one.”

I was more scared for my right foot than my left.

“Just…deal with that.”

Harry’s tub is filling with water and it stings everywhere it touches my foot. But especially my heel and all of my toes. I switch the knob to cold.

“Okay,” I take a deep breath. “The other fucking shoe.”

I can feel Harry peering over my shoulder. This one feels glued on and I squeal as I comes off. My foot looked like a bruised and crusted mess.

“Holy sh-“ Harry whispers. I dunk it fast in the running water and nearly topple backwards but Harry catches me with his knee and then stays there so I have somewhere to lean. It was nice.

“Bloody hell,” I swear as my feet sting and paint the water pink. “Genuinely so sorry about this.”

“Don’t be.” Harry shakes his head. “But please toss those shoes in the bin and never wear something like that again.”

“That’s impossible.”

“It’s not. It’s very possible.”

“I love heels! I just need to break these in.”

“They’re breaking you love.”

I feel him stiffen behind me which makes me suddenly self-conscious. I didn’t really read into his words, love was just a term of affection used around my friends. But apparently it wasn’t something Harry used lightly.

“They are. These ones are going in the bin, DNA and all.” I try to continue casually. This was so weird. Weirder than it needed to be given Harry and I were mates at most; I’d met his girlfriend, I didn’t think of him anything more than a neighbourhood friend. We certainly hadn’t hung out outside our flats before.

“Maybe burn them to be sure,” Harry finally responds. His voice is a bit rougher than before. “Don’t want to get accidentally framed with the free DNA.”

“I’m pretty sure I’d be too obvious a murderer to commit anything stealthily. They’d identify the pink-haired giant walking away.”

“You’re not a giant. You’re not even 6 feet.”

“I’m nearly 5’9 which is tall enough for a woman.”

“I don’t think so.” Harry brushes my hair behind my shoulder and a shiver runs up my spine. Maybe I should turn the icy water off. “Plus I like the pink. Makes you more interesting to look at.”

“So I’m not interesting to look at regularly?” I tease. I look up at him and the back of my head hits his thigh.

I see his adam’s apple bob and I suddenly feel vulnerable sitting here like this. I lean forward so my feet are steadied against the tub which is agonizing for my bloody feet but at least I wasn’t leaning against him.

“I said more interesting.”

The room grows quiet and I try not to read into it. Harry thought I was interesting to look at. Okay.

I turn the tap off and the silence in the room becomes unbearable.

“Have you got any plasters?” I turn inch by inch so I don’t slip on the lip of the tub or need more help from Harry. The energy in here was weird and him touching me was going to make it weirder.

“Yeah,” he’s eager to leave only to come back laughing. “They’re actually here. I…”

He opens a drawer and pulls a box out along with a tiny vial.

I take it from him, some sort of ointment oil. Why not.

“Motherf-“ I bite my lip as the ointment stings my cuts. “Why wouldn’t you warn me!”

Harry laughs again and it eases the tension a little. “I thought you knew it would burn!”

“I don’t treat cuts often jeez!”

“Sorry! That friend—you met him at my party, black curly hair, the one who does custom stuff?”

“Oh yeah I remember.”

“I helped him out one summer. I had to hand cut all these signs using one of those exacto blades? Cut my hands up so many times I had to buy something for them after one of them got infected.”

I wrinkle my nose at the idea of an infected cut and douse my other foot in the oil, swearing as I take the pain.

“I have a roll and cotton if you want to bandage your foot?” Harry suggests. “I don’t know if regular plasters cut it.”

“That’s so dramatic,” I usually stuck a couple plasters on and got on with it. But this was also the worst I’d ever had with breaking shoes in.

“Let me-“

“No!” I push Harry’s shoulder away as he leans down with the roll of bandage he’d procured. “Harry do not touch my foot!”

“I’ve dressed grosser,” he holds my heel gently and I try to yank it away again without falling into the tub but it’s impossible. I settle for pushing him away.

“Harry please! I’ve intruded enough stop touching my disgusting foot!”

“I’ve seen you wash it. It’s not disgusting, just bloody. Now stop squirming about!”

“Why are you…” I trail away because he wasn’t listening. He dabs my foot with a cotton pad and then begins the process of bandaging my heel and then my toe. I try not to squirm at how embarrassing this was.

Harry’s gentle and attentive as he moves on to the other foot which should make me feel okay but only adds to the humiliation. We were so not close enough to do this—I don’t even know if I’d do the same for him.

Another part of me knows I would. Despite knowing him in passing, plus a few solid occasions, I could tell Harry was one of the good guys. He was always chivalrous around the building, friendly in any interaction I’d seen with him, loved enough to be thrown a surprise birthday party, and caring enough to always ask about how I was doing. And to do this.

When he glances up I don’t expect it. Our gazes clash and the weird energy from before creeps in again.

“Sorted,” he lets my foot down gently.

“Harry I owe you like…a massive dinner, and drinks are on me forever forward.”

“That’s not necessary,” he chuckles as he puts his little first aid kit back. “Just don’t wear heels like that again please. It’s not worth it.”

“They’re so pretty though,” I sigh. They’re now discarded on the tiled floor, the insides bloody.

“Let’s get you that beer,” he holds a hand out.

“I can’t. I’ve kept you late and you probably-“

“One beer.”

“I don’t want to intrude-“

“Just one,” his tone is gentle but he’s not taking no for an answer.

“Fine!” I admit defeat. He helps me up and together I limp to his couch.

We sit in silence for a bit while we drink. I don’t know what he’s thinking about, but the events of the evening play in my head.

“He actually insulted me.” I blurt. Before he can ask questions I explain. “Firstly he was late, then he was droning on and on about shit I don’t even remember anymore. Then he was cheap about food, but because he paid for drinks he got me to pay for chips. Then he said I wear too much pink and nobody would take me seriously as an adult. That it was childish.”

“Really?” Harry leans forward from his end of the couch. “He said all that?”

“Yeah! I said men are allowed to wear their Star Wars shirts and Lord of the Rings bullshite. And when a woman wears more than one article of pink she’s childish?”

“What a prick.”

“I know!”

“You’re too good for someone like that.”

“Thank you,” I sit back, seen and validated.

“The pink makes you cool, stand out in a crowd. He’s just blind to look at you and think that. Or he’s just intimidated.”

“Oh yeah he lied about his height! So I stood there in those stupid pink heels taller than him.”

“That must have got him,” Harry grins. “I actually love that story.”

His words warm me.

“You’re so nice Harry,” I tell him. “Honestly you’re like a gem of a guy.”

“I’m not that nice-“

“Don’t tell me you’re a bad boy or something because you’re a solid good guy. Rare. Never change.”

“Hmph,” he clears his throat.

“Your girlfriend’s lucky. A lot of us have to put up with trolls before we find a good guy like you.”

Harry stays silent. Maybe I’d said too much. Maybe I should stop drinking.

“We broke up. Wasn’t good enough for her.”

Shite. Blistered, bloody, bandaged foot directly in mouth..

“I-I’m sorry. To hear that! Oh my god yeah I guess I haven’t seen her in a while-“

“Yeah been a few months now. I’m mostly over it.”

“How long were you two dating again?”

“Almost 3,” Harry twists his mouth to the side. I’d never seen him look bitter before. “I accepted it, the end of us. Until I hear from a friend she jumped right into another relationship. So…that must have been behind the scenes near the end of our relationship.”

Bitter indeed. “That’s a shitty way to find out too.”

“I wish she was just honest. Y’know like, I met someone else whatever. At least that way I took the hit at once and then got over it. Instead after a month of moving on I just got punched all over again.”

“That’s a dick move.” I agree. “I’ve seen you so many times the last few months why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugs, “I didn’t want to bring down the mood. Felt too loaded for a conversation on the lift.”

“You could have saved it for a walking-to-the-tube conversation?”

“Then just part ways after dropping that on you?”

“Isn’t that perfect?” I tease and he covers his face. I change the subject. “My 3.5 year relationship ended when he said he didn’t see me as marriage material.”

“I thought it was a mutual breakup?” Harry asks. I’m surprised he remembers what I told him when I first moved in.

“I lied. I didn’t want you to see me as your pathetically lonely neighbour.”

He laughs at that. At least I’d gotten a smile back on his face. “I thought it was a bit suspicious but I didn’t push it. Every time I saw you when you first moved in it always looked like you cried.”

“Oh my god!” I cover my face. “Don’t tell me that! That’s so embarrassing!”

It was true. I cried for three weeks straight after the breakup but I also thought I was sly enough to get around unnoticed.

“It’s not a big deal! I used to worry about you.”

“That’s another thing that’ll keep me up at night now—but see that’s sweet! You barely knew me and you worried. Like! You were raised right.”

“Sure,” he smiles my way with a laugh in his eyes. He was enjoying making me squirm but it’s this smile, one I’d never seen before directed at me, that made me squirm the most.

“Okay now stop being sweet and kick me out.” I gingerly stand and suck up the fresh pain that comes back.

“You can stay as long a-“

“Harry.” I look at him seriously. “I know we both work demanding jobs, and that’s what we have to do tomorrow morning. It’s past midnight and I should go.”

He sighs and gets up to help me hobble to his door.

“Good thing I live next door—oh my shoes. They’re in your-“

“I’ll get them to you later.” He promises.

“You just want to try them on in private.” I tease as he opens his door. He waits while I fish through my purse again for my keys. I remember then the missed calls from Dave—that feels so long ago.

“I like my feet whole.” He chuckles. “Plus I’m tall enough.”

“Some girls think 6 feet is short.”

“How do you know I’m 6 feet?”

I turn my key and let my door swing open.

“I’m good at telling heights.”

“What’s your secret?”

“Well,” I turn back to him and put my hand on my head. “I get my height and then just measure against the person. I gauge the inches which if I’m close enough-“ Harry moved closer to me so there’s only a few inches between us. “Uhm. If I’m close enough it’s easy to count up or down.”

“So you count up-“

“Three or so inches.” I look up, determined to meet his eye. It was just Harry. I didn’t need to feel weird around my neighbour Harry.

But I can’t look away. I never noticed the depth of his eyes; they’re mesmerizing and I can’t look away.

“It’s a neat party trick.” He says so low, but we’re so close it’s loud as hell to my ears. Or maybe that’s the blood rushing through my head.

“Don’t really go to enough parties to turn it into a trick.” My voice comes out squeaky and I clear my throat. “Mostly useful to compare a dating profile to the real thing.”

“Hm,” he hums. His fingers toy with the pinks of my hair before draping it behind my shoulder.

“I should go.” I say for the millionth time.

He looks at me again and I forget why I should go. His gaze drops to my lips and I feel hot—hotter than the pain on my bloody feet.

“You’re the real thing.”

It’s unconscious, the way I arch up to him. It’s natural, the way he meets me halfway. It’s unforgettable, the way his soft lips feel on mine.

Until I lean my weight on my toes and I’m reminded of my broken feet, this evening, and who I was kissing.

I couldn’t be kissing my neighbour! I saw him nearly every damn day!

“Har-“ I push gently at his chest and he’s quick to move back.

“Sorry I-that-“

“No I’m sorry that was me-“

“We should…”

“Yeah.” I grasp behind my back until my hand touches my doorframe. “Um…thanks for everything. Tonight.”

“Yeah.” Harry’s flushed and somehow more attractive than I’ve ever noticed. He also has a smidge of pink lipstick at the corner of his mouth but I file that away for later. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight!” I turn and quickly close my door, knowing Harry was not going to be the first to leave. Despite my head telling me not to, I turn and peep through the peephole. He’s still leaning against his doorframe, head bowed, running his hand through his hair. I watch him mutter something and then go in. I stay there until the automatic light switches off and then sink to the floor.

Harry. Friendly, funny, neighbour Harry. He’d dressed my bloody feet, served me beer, and then kissed me.

I touch my lips. I wasn’t even mad about it. This was going to be complicated no doubt, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

***

I manage to avoid Harry for a week. Which is a pretty impressive feat given our doors nearly open onto each others.

But he catches me on the lift after work one day. There’s already two others beside me and Harry nearly misses the lift, slipping in just as it’s closing. He does a double take when he sees me.

“Hey.”

“Hey!” Everything was normal. Everything was fine.

“Smart choice of shoes.”

We look down at my Stan Smiths.

“I’ve learned my lesson…for now.” I look back up at the row of numbers. The lift stops on floor 5 and the couple get out.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He states simply when the door closes.

“I have not!” I finally look at him and nearly lose my breath. When did he become so attractive?!

“We see each other almost every day living the way we do. And you’re telling me we managed to miss each other for a week?”

I shrug, “it’s been a weird week.”

“When did the weird week start?”

Saved by the bell. The doors open to our floors with a ding, but Harry blocks me from my front door.

“Are you serious?” I try to sidestep him but he stays in my path.

“We should talk.”

“We’re talking now.”

“C’mon.” He sighs and moves out of my way. I sigh myself before opening my door and leaving it open behind me. He takes the hint.

“I want to apologize for that night.” Harry says. “I was just feeling vulnerable and it shouldn’t have happened-“

“You’re joking right? I was going on about how good you were and I got a little too into it I think. I totally kissed you so I’m sorry. For making it weird-“

“I kissed you,” Harry tries to correct me.

“No I kissed you so I should apolog-“

“No.” Harry cuts me off.

“Why are we arguing about this?” I throw my hands up. We’re standing in the entryway going back and forth about this. It was stupid. “We’re both sorry. It shouldn’t have happened. Let’s just move on okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees. “So we’re friends? You’re not going to avoid me in the building?”

“No.” I put my hands on my hips. “Cuz I wasn’t avoiding you in the first place.”

He laughs, throwing his head back and my breath catches. I lied. I wasn’t sorry I kissed him but I was sorry it ruined our friendship. Damnit.

“You’re impossible.”

“I thought I was the real thing?” I ask without thinking.

Slightly healed, but still bruised foot, directly in mouth!!!

“Impossible things can be real,” Harry’s mood changes. He stands taller and he takes a step towards me. “Do…do you want us to just move on?”

I don’t know how to answer that.

“I…we live right next to each other Harry. It’s-“

“Unconventional but not impossible.”

“Impossible.”

“But it can still be real.”

I can’t help it. I grin at how serious he was being with his play on words. He was serious about this though. It scared me a little.

“A date.”

“What about it?” I ask.

“We go on a date, see how things are. It they’re weird we go back to friends like we always were. If it’s good…”

“Okay. How about Friday?” I wanted this as much as it seemed like he wanted it. Dating was hard, apps were impossible. This good and kind man standing in front of me was impossible and real.

“Friday’s perfect. Wednesday would be even better.”

“Today is Wednesday.” I say before realizing what he meant.

“It is.”

“Okay. Pick me up at 7?”

“I’ll be on time.” Harry’s grin is contagious.

“Great.” I watch him walk back to the door.

“One favour?” He asks. I ask him what it is. “Wear something pink?”

“Most definitely.” My heart surges and I feel seen. So seen.

I think he was the real thing too. Impossibly real. And possibly something more than neighbourly friends.

Excited and hopeful were an understatement. I couldn’t wait.

[villainousauthor]

The diver coughed and sputtered for a full minute, gasping for air as the sharp rocks digged into her palms.

"Aww poor human, I forgot how much your kind needs air." The melodic voice didn't sound sorry at all, and the moment she caught her breath, the diver looked at the fantastical and terrifying creature that pulled her down into the murky depths.

A mermaid. Of course, it was common knowledge that they existed, but sightings were rare. She never expected to come face to face with one during what was a normal dive.

"Why...what is this place?" She asked, voice still raspy from the salt water. Looking around, she could see she was in a cavern of some sort. An underwater cave with some chambers of air? Sunlight shone in from a crack high overhead, so she must be above sea level, but water lapped all around her feet.

The creature spoke again, and she could decided that she could put the voice and appearance of the mer as vaguely female.

"This is your new home, silly!" She looked her in the face now, noticing her inhuman appearance. She was beautiful, of course, but the diver didn't miss the sharp teeth, and the flash of a third eyelid when she blinked. She felt herself shudder.

"What do you mean? I don't understand," She sat up, moving the clinging wet hair from her face. "Why did you pull me down?"

The mermaid inched closer, pulling herself up on the bank, and the diver's eyes looked down the long expanse of her tale, noting her scales and sharp looking spines and fins. This was a dangerous creature.

"I always wanted a pet human. Your species is so fascinating! But I couldn't take just any human," She speaks with such enthusiasm, and if it wasn't for her appearance and strange lilt of her voice, the diver could almost mistake her for one of the upbeat girls she went to school with. "I saw you swimming, and you looked so pretty that it had to be you!" She finishes with a flourish, tail smacking against the water.

"I can't be a pet! I need to go back." She demands, voice desperate. "I'll just swim out of this cave."

The mermaid flashes her another sharp toothed grin. "You can try, but these caves are dark and twisty. You might run out of air before you can."

The divers frown deepens. She knows the statistics for underwater caving. She hasn't even been trained for it yet, never having thought she'd need it. Her breathing apparatus was gone too, ripped away by the mermaid as she dragged her down.

"I'll starve here," She tries reasoning, "What good of a pet am I if I'm dead?"

The mermaid brought her sharp claws up as she rested her own head in her hands. She watched as her gills fluttered. "I'll bring you food. I know you humans can eat fish, and I'm a good hunter." She says this with pride, as if trying to impress.

"Okay, but I need water. Humans will die without water." She tries countering, heart racing as the situation starts to set in.

"You're silly. There's water all around us." The mermaid giggles, her expression playful.

"Humans can't drink salt water. We need fresh water." She deadpans, trying to make this mermaid see logic.

Her lip juts out, as if this doesn't make a lick of sense. "I don't believe that. This water is perfectly fine! I live in it, and others live in it, and you humans swim in it."

She leans closer, her cold and clammy hand going to toy with a strand of the human diver's hair, and her heart jumps to her throat at the close proximity of those claws that could tear her to pieces within seconds.

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of you. We'll have so much fun together."

[cupidscorpsee]

Just Say It

WC - 5,880 / 22 minute read

Warnings - Smut / 18+ content throughout / light degradation / very brief mention of blood (rough kissing) / age gap / feminine terms used for reader

A/N: ummm

In which you, Hugh’s year-long assistant, finally tell you him how you feel and it leads to unexpected events…

You had been his assistant for almost a year now, having done this since you were fresh out of college. You felt you were pretty close now with Hugh or, at least, as close as you can possibly get with such a busy man.

The assistant-actor relationship you had expected in the very beginning dissipated almost as quickly as you were hired. No, things felt very much like a casual friendship with him and you enjoyed that fact very much.

It was difficult, however, to ignore the difference in power dynamics you two shared. You felt so small compared to him, like you only mattered on a superficial level at most. You often wondered if you meant any more than just the “young woman who brought Mr. Jackman coffee every morning on the set of Deadpool & Wolverine”. You hoped you did.

As you walk around town one evening, making casual stops here and there—Hugh even buying a box of cigars at some point, which he rarely ever does—you notice how he was taking his time. He wasn’t in his usual rush—no speed-walking with his unrelenting athletic zeal.

Nor did he seem in a rush to go back home and read over his new script like he intended, or call his two kids to set up another father-daughter and father-son date (you believed he was such a phenomenal father and that warmed your heart every time you thought about it), or, as was usually the case, beg you to get him a coffee from his favorite barely-known Aussie cafe, which was only three minutes from where you two stood.

Perhaps he has nothing better to do but be with me right now, you thought.

Hugh lights up a cigar, then, to your surprise, offers one to you as well. You had been twenty-one for only [insert number] months now and you wondered if that was why he had finally offered you one when he had never done so before.

You accept it. You clumsily fumble with your cigar, not used to the strange size of it as compared to normal cigarettes. You weren’t much of a smoker, really. You attempted to light your cigar, but your red lighter refused to cooperate. The wind, it seemed, was stronger than your ability to fight your embarrassed blush.

"Here, let me help," Hugh said softly, his warm breath brushing against your cheek as he reached across the table you two were sitting at. His hands cupped gently around yours, and the proximity sent a jolt through your already frazzled nerves.

Your heart raced as Hugh’s fingers brushed against yours, igniting a heat that spread through your veins. You try to focus on the task at hand, but the closeness between you two made it nearly impossible to think straight.

Here was the truth: Hugh fucking Jackman was damn fine for his age and you’d be an utter fool to not recognize that.

With practiced ease, Hugh flicked the lighter and held the flame just inches from your face. You could feel the heat against your skin, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe. As the flame danced before you, casting flickering shadows across Hugh’s kind features, you couldn't tear your gaze away.

Burn me, your brain whispered like a naughty secret better left unsaid. Burn me, burn me, burn me.

You would let him if he truly desired it.

"Thanks," you managed to murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

But Hugh only smiled, his eyes holding a warmth that sent your pulse into overdrive. “‘Course, mate.”

Your moment lingered, the air thick with a tension that seemed to only be on your part, before Hugh pulled away, his hand retreating back to his side of the table. But the memory of his touch lingered, seared into your mind like an indelible mark.

“Not bad, right?”

What? Oh. The cigar. You forgot to pay attention. “Not bad at all.”

“If I remember correctly, your application all those months ago said you didn’t smoke,” Hugh commented, a knowing smile on his face.

Feeling bold, you stand from your spot at the table, lean forward, and blow smoke towards Hugh. “I don’t.”

He grins.

After a bit, you two walk towards the rental house Hugh is staying in during the filming of his next film. You pause for a moment and then pull the slightly-bent script from your bag. Hugh only watches you, puzzled.

“I picked up your new script, by the way,” you say with a practiced calmness that doesn’t really match the stressfulness of the situation. “They just tweaked a few things, y’know?”

“You’re bloody joking,” he groans. “Changes already?”

You look at him, hesitate, then blurt out, “I can help you go over it, if you want. I want. Well, I– Yeah, I can help…”

He looks back at you steadily. “Okay. I would like that.”

You were growing frustrated, though unsure of the reasoning. It was as if some sort of organ in your stomach was clawing up to your throat and begging to be let out. Keeping it in was as exasperating as it was confusing. “I want that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve said that already. Are you alright, mate?”

You look him straight in the eye for once, surprised by your sudden courage to do so. You take another drag of your cigar, hesitating. “I think you know I’m not.”

There’s a silence, though not one of confusion or wondering.

“What do you mean?” Hugh finally asks.

“It’s not that hard to guess. No offense…”

What were you doing? What were you doing? What were you doing?

“Y/N,” Hugh starts slowly, obviously playing for time as he considers the weight of what you were subtly admitting.

“Fuck, I could lose my job for this,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair as you put your cigar out on the stair railing beside you. You two stood just outside Hugh’s temporary living space, Hugh leaning back against the railing of the stairs leading up to his front door, and you, in your nervous shuffling, at the other end of the railings near the potted flowers. “I’m sorry, I… It’s been a long day. Just forget I said any–”

“Just bloody say it, mate.”

You paused. It almost sounded like he was upset or annoyed, but from the slight, curious tone in his voice that you had come to understand as genuine interest, you knew he wasn’t, so you kept going. “I wanted you to know. Just in case I had a shot at… whatever. Anything. I just wanted you to be aware of… Yeah. I don’t know. I just… I just want you.”

It was sloppy. Really sloppy. But it was out now.

The silence between you was deafening and you could barely stand it. You thought you might implode if you didn’t tell Hugh how you felt, but, right now, you felt like you may still implode anyway.

His eyebrows furrow, his jaw clenches, and his mouth twitches as he considers his response. “This is wrong, kid.”

But I want you. I need you in my body and my soul. It hurts every second I spend looking at you and wanting more than what I have, you think. I can’t take another year of this. Not a month. Not even a week. A day would kill me.

Your thoughts were like a funeral pyre of which he had set the flame to.

“Is it?”

From the silence that follows, you know you won’t be getting a response. He simply nods once, as if finalizing the moment, and moves to unlock his front door.

He holds it open and gestures for you to head inside first. You do so and, being already familiar with this house (you had picked it for him when he had asked you to do so before filming started a week ago), you go to the living room and sit down on the dark blue couch, leaning back against the uncomfortably stiff pillow.

Hugh stops at his fridge first and goes to the couches with two bottles of beer in one hand, script in the other. He sets the bottles down on the coffee table between you two and sits down.

“I don’t want to lose this, Hugh…”

“What? Your job, you mean?”

“That, too.”

You don’t speak any further on that. Instead, you reach out for the bottle of cold beer and hold it in your lap. You stare down at the cap for a few seconds before realizing: “Do you have a bottle opener?”

Hugh takes his keys out from his pocket and you notice the small bottle opener keychain attached to his set. It was a gift from you during the holiday season a few months back.

He stands up with a soft grunt and leans over the seemingly plastic coffee table to move up closer to you. Very close. He stares right in your face, as though he likes it and wants to study it, linger on it. He reaches out slowly, hesitantly, and touches your lower lip with his finger, letting it travel left and right, then right and left again.

Hugh finally, for the first time since your hasty confession, smiles slightly at you, and that very smile fills you with a kind of apprehension about what will happen next. Or, at least, what you hope will happen next.

He slowly takes the cold bottle of beer from you, setting it, along with the other, on the hardwood floor beside the couch.

He looks at you for a moment, as if deciding something, before he places his hand at the end of the small, plastic table that served as the only barrier between you two, and gives it a harsh push. It makes a sharp scraping sound as it slides over, leaving the space between you two open.

Please do it, Hugh. Please, please, please.

Hugh nods slowly, as if reading your thoughts, and lowers himself in front of you, his waist between your legs now as he gently moves you lower by his hand on your chin. He brings his lips up to your mouth in a warm I’ll-meet-you-halfway-but-no-further kiss.

A conciliatory kiss.

A pity kiss?

You smile, nearly exploding in giddiness before returning the kiss—so famished you lose yourself in it. It's a gentle collision, a meeting of softness and warmth that sends shivers down your spine.

As you finally break apart, your breaths mingling in the air, you open your eyes to meet Hugh’s gaze. There's a newfound understanding between you two, a silent agreement: This stays between us at all times.

“Is that what you wanted?” Hugh murmurs afterward, lips still grazing against yours.

This is where it would logically end.

You don’t answer. You kiss him again, lifting his face, as if to discover more, know more. Even with your faces touching, your bodies are angles apart, it seems.

He lifts himself off his knees and stands in front of you, body angled downwards so he could keep his hands on your face. It was almost desperate, your kiss. Not because his kiss still lacked the satisfaction you were looking for, but because you weren’t so sure you’d get another opportunity.

You had your lips against his, practically pulling the man as close to you as possible now, and yet you still seeked more. Kiss me, love me, need me.

You wanted to consume the man one kiss at a time. It didn’t take long for him to get the picture and easily part his lips for you. Your tongue explored his own and you didn’t seem to mind when, in your excitement, your teeth knocked against his. In fact, you wanted more of exactly that.

You stopped wanting to be the gentle, secretive assistant you had somehow molded into around him. You stopped wanting passion at this moment. You did not even care for pleasure—his or your own. You didn’t even want proof that this job risk you were taking was worth it, for you already knew it was.

You didn't want words. Just the turning ceiling fan as it was, the stiff couch beneath your clothed thighs, the soft scent of Hugh’s cologne, and your spot between his open legs. You wanted all of it. Every inch of his kind soul’s beautiful vessel.

Against his lips, you murmur between breaths, “I’ll quit after this. If you want me to.”

He pulls back, though his heart isn’t in it. He feels wrong in a moral sense, yet he can’t seem to fully stop this. He starts to move his body away from yours. “You can stay here tonight, Y/N… It’s late and your apartment is bloody far.”

“I can take the couch.” It was the most sobering thing you could possibly say in the moment.

————————————————————————

Okay, so you were an idiot.

You laid on the couch beneath the blanket he had given you (he had profusely offered you the bed instead of the couch several times, saying he’d take the couch, but you declined), shifting your position multiple times—feeling restless—to combat the discomfort between your legs.

You had been having a dream a few minutes ago and you were glad you woke up from it. It was silly of you to be having such morally wrong dreams about your famous boss, so you decided to suffer and not go back to sleep.

Instead, you got up from your spot and took a warm shower. He had told you that you could do so if you wanted to at any point. Even with your stupidity, he was still as kind and considerate as ever.

He had headed to bed in his room hours ago, his door shut.

When you finish your quick shower, you step out with a blue towel wrapped around your damp body. It doesn’t take long for you to come to a horrifying conclusion: you had no clothes to wear now.

You sat at the edge of the tub and stared ahead at the mirror on the wall. Your hair was still damp and it clung to your face not unlike the way your shame did to your soul. You let out a frustrated groan of defeat and pushed yourself off the tub.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

You knocked on Hugh’s bedroom door, hoping to God he was still awake and you were not being a bother.

A slight shuffling sound was heard from the other side of the door before it was opened to reveal the man in a pair of dark-blue plaid pajama pants and no shirt in sight. His hair was a bit disheveled, but he still looked as handsome as ever. Your grip on your towel around your body tightened. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

“No, mate,” he lied, his barely-noticeable groggy tone giving himself away. “You alright?”

You nod. “Clothes. Um. I don’t have any.”

His eyes lit up in recognition and he quickly moved to his closet. “Ah, damn, of course. Come in.”

You followed him back into his room, your eyes darting over its contents. Each breath you took seemed to echo in the dimly lit room, filling your lungs with the intoxicating scent of distant cologne mingled with the subtle aroma of his laundry detergent.

Your eyes swept over the space, drinking in every detail with a mixture of longing and adoration. The room itself seemed to pulsate with Hugh’s essence, from the unmade bed adorned with plush pillows to the scattered array of books strewn across his desk. You couldn't help but marvel at how each item seemed to reflect a different facet of his personality, further deepening your infatuation that almost bordered now on obsession.

He rummages through his closet for something—anything—that might fit you, though you knew that anything he could find would always be a few sizes too big with a man of his stature.

He takes a step back from the closet and huffs in defeat, unable to find a thing. “I have no idea, mate, unless you’d like to wear a belt to bed.”

You look at him and he looks back at you, and then there it is. There it is. That unspoken moment of mutual clarity.

There was a hesitancy that clung to the air. He understood your look and you understood his. All that was needed now was action, but could that happen?

He steps closer to you and slowly brings his hands to your hips. You wished the damn fabric of the towel wasn’t in your way. He begins to lightly stroke up and down your bare arm now. “You sure you want this, kid?”

Kid. Call me anything else. I am anything but.

“Y/N…?” he corrects when you don’t respond immediately, as if reading your less-than-content thoughts. You like having someone read your mind so effortlessly.

You nod. Yes, you’re sure. Never been more sure of anything in your twenty-one years of living.

Hugh lifts your face with his hand and stares at you the way he did in the living room when you first kissed, though even more intensely now. More sure of himself. Of his actions. “I’m going to kiss you now and you are not going to ask me about losing your job.”

You feel as if your fingers are suddenly burning with desire—like a sled dog deprived of work. Of purpose. “I will not ask you about losing my job.”

Then, he suddenly pulls back, as if he might change his mind about allowing this to unfold with his thirty-plus years younger assistant, but doesn’t and instead runs his fingers through your damp hair, messing it up with ease.

You bring your mouth to his in a fiercely eager kiss. If he wouldn’t do it first, you would. Something seems to clear away between you two, and you both abandon your hesitance to the kiss.

You hungrily kiss his closed eyes, his nose, his ears, his throat, discovering them with your lips. You didn’t realize how badly you wanted to explore every part of him with your mouth alone.

Hugh kisses you back just as eagerly, even roughly, nearly disregarding your need for oxygen. His grip on your arm was so tight, you wouldn’t be surprised if you had bruises the following day.

You, submitting yourself to him without being asked to, back up towards the bed. He steps forward and gently brings you down onto the mattress, climbing atop you and beginning to almost hastily remove your towel.

You are soon naked and lie back in a kind of ecstasy as Hugh moves his hands over your body. No secrets this time. No holdbacks. Hugh kisses you, kisses your body all over, then returns to kiss your open lips again more deeply, as if he too is finally letting go. Not a part of him isn’t touching you now.

You were squirming, as if unsure and desperate at once.

“I don’t bite,” he mumbles against your skin.

The man looked incredible. There was no way he was real, considering he looked like some guy out of a celebrity photo shoot. Not even “looked like”—he was that guy.

Loose pajama pants low on his hips, a soft trail of hair leading beneath it—and you knew what laid under them. His arm was beside your head and muscles bulged a little, hair messily swept back on his head, a bit damp. He wasted no time at all kissing your neck so much that blood vessels seemed to break.

He frowned when he had stopped kissing you and noticed your weary expression. “Am I making you uncomfortable, mate? We really don’t have to do this. I like the idea but I’d never want to push you. If I got the wrong impression…”

“No, no,” you blurted back quickly, desperately. Your face flushed. “I’m just… How do I do this? I want you—need you—so much I might implode if I don’t get every inch of you soon, but… is that too much? Should this not mean so much to me?”

He could see you were slightly stiff and it made his stomach clench in unease. This was already risky enough as it was.

He shook his head and leaned down to place a soft kiss against your jaw. “I like a little neediness, Y/N. And… if I’m already saying ‘fuck it’, then I’m taking that mindset all the way. I’ve been wanting to know what you taste like ever since you opened that bloody mouth of yours.”

A sudden shift in position left Hugh a little closer, his groin beneath the pants hitting your bare sex. Your breath shuddered. He noticed, but did not comment on it. “You’ve wanted this for a damn long time, haven’t you?”

“Yes.” It was an easy answer for an easy question.

“Well, you’ve got it.”

Your bare heat was growing a bit achy with need. Grow up, grow up, grow up. You hated how you were thinking and feeling like a teenager filled with hormones, but you wanted more than ever to climb on top of him and beg—beg for his hands or mouth or cock to take away all these stupid thoughts that were running rampant in your brain.

Give me something. Anything.

“You’re right.”

His eyebrows furrowed a bit before he understood the tone shift of the conversation. You wanted to get what you intended from him, and he wanted that for you. It was wrong—oh, so wrong—but who was he to deny you of that? Of him?

And fuck it, maybe he wanted this more than he initially let on.

He nodded.

You shifted and your body now sat beside Hugh as he stayed down for you, his body weight resting on his meaty pillar of an arm. You felt warm and tingly in all the right—and wrong—places as you reached for the fabric of his pajama pants.

You pulled the clothing over his cock and your face reddened at the sight of him. You were gentle with it, your warm hand shaking slightly as you wrapped it softly, carefully, around the base of him.

“You have no idea how often I’ve thought about this,” you whispered, giving him a slow stroke. He was warm in your hand and you could feel him twitch, sucking in a sharp breath.

“I could tell,” he whispered with slight grin and a follow-up swallowed groan as you continued to stroke him. “You were obvious with your signs, pretty girl.”

Pretty girl. Pretty girl. Pretty girl? You liked that a lot. Of course, you had been called that before by other exes, but something about hearing it from him in this context made you whine—audibly whine—and it embarrassed the fuck out of you.

“Oh, you like that? My sweet, pretty girl,” the man crooned, stroking your [insert color] hair back—a soft, intimate caress you would have never expected from him barely a week ago.

He watched you pull his cock again, rubbing the pre-cum over his tip with your thumb, making him breathe harder. “Y/N, pretty, I’m gonna need that mouth on me soon, fuck.”

He twitched again, getting desperate, watching your face grow a pretty flushed pink. You leaned forward and glided the tip over your bottom lip, his pre-cum wetting it. Hugh wanted nothing more than to frame the image in his head forever.

“Just tell me what to do. I’ll listen.”

You’ll listen? Where had this sudden version of you come from?

You began to kiss up the length of him. He swallowed another groan, his grip on your hair a little tighter now as his hips involuntarily bucked upwards. “I like seeing you like this, pretty girl. Honest with yourself. Do you think you can swallow whatever shame you might feel tomorrow?”

“I’ll try anything for you, Hugh.” You blinked up at him as you went back to slow strokes. That’s all you wanted. To behave. To be good. To let an emotion take over for once.

“You can’t use a safe word—”

Safe word?

“—with me in your mouth so tap twice on my thigh if you don’t want any more. If you want to stop or take a break. I hope you know I’ll be gentle with you.”

He’d never be angry or upset if you wanted to stop.

You loved the way even his sweeter, more considerate words in a sexual setting turned you on profusely. You smiled and kissed the hairy space just above his cock. “A famous big-time actor being thoughtful of others?”

“How bloody unheard of,” he mumbled back, matching your playful energy.

You looked up at him, seeking a green-light with your eyes. He gently twirled your hair on the left side of your head around his finger, seemingly studying your face, before he reached forward with both hands and pulled your hair back in a make-shift ponytail that he held together with only his right hand.

It was his permission.

You had no need for hesitation, quickly leaning down to take the head of his cock into your warm mouth and, despite yourself, moaning softly in relief. You’d been dreaming about this all year, just as he had—though his desire was maintained a secret much better than yours. You could feel the raging throb of your poor unstimulated clitoris as you took more of him.

“Fuck, that mouth…” he mumbled, wiping with his thumb as some of your own saliva coated the corner of your lips. “Have you really been hiding how much of a desperate slut you are?”

The derogatory words coming from his mouth shocked you, but did not disturb you. You tried your best to confirm his question, a muffled mm-hm leaving your throat.

“Yeah? Are you like this with every cock?”

Your stomach twisted at the thought that perhaps he did this with all the younger women—all his “pretty” assistants.

You let out a small mm-mm sound, denying his previous question. No, Hugh, only for you.

He gave you a low groan as your hand trailed up his thigh while you sucked him off. It was almost like a reward. He waited—almost hoped—for you to tap his thigh, signaling your stop, but you didn't. You didn’t even think of it.

You did, however, pull back, nearly choking but somehow managing to keep it down. You blinked your tears away and pushed yourself forward, wrapping your arms around his torso—bare chest to bare chest.

He hardly had time to return your affectionate gesture before you kissed along his jaw until you reached his mouth. You kissed him fiercely and he didn’t even seem to mind that your mouth had just been wrapped around his leaking cock. He couldn’t care less.

He promised himself not to have feelings for you that went beyond friendship and natural lust, but you were making that impossible.

What made you so fucking irresistible?

You pulled away, breathless. “I want you to fuck my mouth, Hugh. The way no man has.”

Your words were quiet, whispered, but so very filthy. Enticing, really.

He did as you asked.

He really did.

Hugh was gentle at first, scooping your hair up into a makeshift ponytail again. You were kneeling on the bed platform now, giving yourself more ease to suck at the level you were at and him the ability to move you as he pleased.

At first he pulled you down onto his cock, easing you into it—giving some opportunity to retract your wish—but when you proved you could take him, he began to truly fuck your mouth.

He wasn’t brutal. It wasn’t exactly what you expected. You thought he would be careless of your safety and mean, even. You had given him a chance to truly do anything he wanted and he chose… this.

It was so much better than you expected, but fuck, you were wondering now if he meant more to you than you had ever wanted him to.

He was firm with his strokes, but only pushed you to the limit, making you drool around his cock. You liked that he held your head still while you let him thrust into your mouth, pulling out to the tip and thrusting back in.

Even more so, you loved how he talked to you.

“God, look at you. My pretty assistant who could’ve been helping with something else this whole time,” he groaned, eyes dark as he looked down at you. “Taking it so well.”

His gaze was hooded as he pushed you down as far as he knew you were comfortable with, and he let out a low moan that went straight to your own arousal. “Fucking perfect.”

You couldn’t believe how easy it was for him to make your stomach flutter.

“You look so innocent—make quite the show being the perfect, sweet assistant in front of me all year, but you’re a bloody cockslut when you want to be, huh?” He was testing the dirty talk, giving you a glimpse of the degradation you had somehow known he was capable of.

You liked it. You liked him being mean in a specific context.

He could work with that.

His head was clouded in pleasure as he watched you drool down your chin. You were a goddamn dream, and he knew this had been the right decision. Morally wrong? Sure. But the right decision for the two of you and your pining.

He pulled out from your mouth suddenly, feeling himself get too close to finishing. He didn’t waste any time, for he was already five steps ahead.

Eyes looked down at you with intent, hands running over your inner thigh as you waited for what he would do next. You’d pictured that expression of his so many times, bit down on your tongue behind books held up to your face to get this very mental image away.

His hand had moved down to your wetness, giving your clitoris a few firm circles as he positioned himself closer between your already-spread legs. He smiled—that fucking stupid smile you loved—while his thumb rubbed over your bundle of nerves, making you shudder as you bit down on your bottom lip.

“What do you like?” he asked, his thumb’s pattern unwavering. “What makes you feel good, pretty?”

Honestly? You could cum just like this. Him touching you slowly, looking down at you with that beautiful, intimidating face. But you knew he wouldn’t like that answer. You didn’t want to seem so pathetic, either.

“I’m okay with anything you give me, but I…” you swallowed, a shaky exhale leaving your lips, “I just want you, Hugh. Please.”

He looked like he was taking note, nodding at your words. He smiled when you let out the softest accidental moan, as if he were becoming all-too-aware of how easy you were to please. How desperate you really were after all.

Before you could wrap your head around what was to be, his lips were kissing yours so passionately and brutally that you tasted blood from your bottom lip.

It’s as if he had no real care in the world; he just left his hardened cock visible to your eyes as he began to insert a finger into you. You tightened your grip on his free arm, becoming a quick mess of moans and heavy breathing with only the use of one finger.

“Pathetic,” he mutters quietly as he pulls his finger out.

You are sure your face goes beet red. He finally starts to slowly push his cock inside of you, stopping once only his head was inside. You weren’t sure when he had shifted himself in order to do so.

He took a deep breath. He was more wound up than he had thought he was and your walls already squeezing the head of his cock weren’t helping as he did his best to hold himself back instead of just pounding into you. After all, he did promise gentleness.

Inch by inch, his cock dragged against the inside of your walls. You whimpered and moaned, your eyes shutting despite your burning desire to watch his face. He kept his thrusts slow, making sure to drag every inch, every vein up against that sweet spot inside of you. You were starting to get more vocal, your breathing picking up and eyelids closing shut.

He pressed his thumb to your clitoris once again, rubbing it to the same rhythm of his thrusts. Your hips started to move with him, like you were urging him to start moving faster.

So he did.

Your orgasm had you tightening around his cock and he fucked you through it. He leaned forward, almost folding you in half to capture your lips with his. You moaned into the kiss, your legs locking around his hips and your fingers finding their way into his hair. He kept his thrusts shallow now, barely coming out of you before bottoming out again. “Hugh…”

He gave a particularly hard thrust in response, making your eyes shut once again and your back arch as you whimpered. He set a more brutal pace, chasing after his own pleasure now.

Your nails began to dig into the meat of his ass and your legs locked around his hips, bringing him closer to you.

“You’re such a good girl. Such a pretty girl.”

“Yes,” you gasped. You were struggling to string sentences together, your brain overwhelmed from the pleasure. “God, yes, keep going, Hugh, please…”

His kisses had become sloppy and his rhythm erratic. He felt his orgasm quickly approaching.

One.

“God, fuck…”

Two.

“You feel so fucking good…”

Three more pumps of his cock and he was burying himself as deep as he could possibly get, releasing deep inside of you. He lets out a low, guttural moan.

He collapsed against you, catching himself on his forearms so that he wouldn’t crush you. He kissed your neck, making his way up to your jaw, cheek, and, finally, your lips.

You sighed softly, parting your lips to let his tongue slip inside of your mouth. Your legs were still wrapped around him, keeping him inside of you—exactly where you wanted him to stay. Bodies entangled.

“Will you explain the new film to me?” you whispered, your gaze nowhere near his own, but rather focused on the lips of the object of your desire—the same lips you had kissed only moments ago. “In detail.”

He pulls out with a grunt and lies beside you on the mattress.

“You’ve read the script,” he said, his deep voice rumbling in your chest. “You know what it is better than I do.”

You reach for his hand, lean back, and move it to your bare, practically-abused sex. You slowly swipe his finger between your slick folds before moving it away.

You look up at Hugh and move his now-wet finger towards his mouth. Understanding what you wanted in mere seconds, he opens his mouth and allows himself to taste you in an image that had you nearly swooning.

“Tell me anyway, Hugh…”

He wouldn’t have ever truly declined your request no matter how much he feigned logical hesitance.

You listened to him speak while his fingers trailed back down to your sensitive heat underneath blankets and the dead silence of the night of which would soon once again be interrupted by his whispered sweet nothings and your soft gasps.

Neither of you could quite get enough.

[raineandsky]

Your stories are something amazing!!!! What about hero and villain are forded to work rouge their against a common enemy , then villain accidentally hurting his leg and hero is supporting him by walking

Bonus points is villain rejects help at first and then falls

(Both male)

🐝

another fun one!! thank you for the request (and the bee)!

tw: injury

“Come on, we don’t have all day.”

The villain scowls. “I’m trying.”

“Try harder.”

The hero is in the doorway, on the cusp of freedom, of escape, but the villain had to go and injure himself in the least convenient way possible. Who knows how long they have before the supervillain figures out where they’ve gone.

The hero hates this. He hates having to care. Well, not that he does, but he still has to help, that in itself is a massive pain in the ass.

He sighs defeatedly and jogs back to where the villain is limping at snails-pace. “Here.” He holds his arm out expectantly. The villain glares at him like he’s offering him a pile of shit.

“Fuck off,” the villain says sharply. “I haven’t stooped that low yet.”

“I could be in the car driving away right now,” the hero comments. “Hurry up.”

The hero starts his way back to the door, walking this time, but he’s still faster than the villain. Why did this have to happen? Why did the superhero pair him with the worst villain on earth?

He’s halfway there when some kind of choked “ugh,” is followed by the sound of something hitting the floor. He turns, half expecting the supervillain to be making an appearance, but all he finds is the villain—on the ground, looking a lot worse for wear than he was a second ago. He goes to pick himself up, his arms trembling under his own weight, but his legs refuse to get themselves under him.

The hero watches for a moment, that fuck off reverberating nice and loud in his ears. It’s pitiful. He’s always looked forward to the day he can watch karma catch up to a villain, but naturally his first time seeing it is the one time the villain is on his goddamn side.

He goes back, a second time, to the villain’s side, squatting down to his level. “Okay, this is getting pathetic now,” he snaps. “Time to stoop that low.”

The villain glares up at him as he holds his arm out again. The hero’s expecting another insult to come out his mouth, but instead he scowls and reaches out to grab a hold of the hero’s sleeve.

The hero’s moving to help him stand before he even realises he’s doing it. He’s done his fair share of helping people get up in his time—this is no different to helping the civilians off the street and out of the path of destruction. Except this is the villain, and it’s obvious that he’s miserable to be needing this in the first place.

Together, they slowly get to their feet. The villain tries and fails to hold back a wince. The hero hooks his arm over the villain’s shoulder, carefully pulling him forward. Half of the villain’s weight is resting on the hero’s side, his fingers holding his shirt in a death grip.

They take a step forward. Then another, then another. The villain grimaces the entire way, but the hero is, much to his dismay, in hero mode. All he’s thinking about is getting the two of them out of danger and to the safety of the car outside.

Breaking into the fresh air outside is a relief. The villain seems to feel much the same; he heaves a deep breath the moment the breeze touches his face. The hero throws the car door open and shoves the villain in without remorse. Heroism sometimes requires a little pushing around, and luckily he gets to do it to someone who kind of deserves it today.

The villain yelps as he meets the backseat. “What the fuck, you absolute—”

The car door slams behind him, and the hero wastes no time clambering into the drivers seat. The car starts with the purr customary of the agency fleet. “Okay,” he says shortly as he pulls off with a squeal of tires. “There’s a med kit in the pocket in the back of the chair.”

“Are you serious?” the villain snaps. “I got shot in the leg and you want me to put a plaster on it?”

“Get it out, [Villain].”

The all-familiar groan. There’s some shuffling, then a long silence. “I’m not using a fucking needle and thread in a moving car.”

“Beneath that, you moron.”

More shuffling. “What am I looking for exactly?”

The hero glances in the rear view mirror, getting a glimpse of the villain’s head as a result. “Bandages. Have you never had to patch yourself up before?”

“Not with a fancy-ass med kit before.”

The hero sighs deeply. “And I’ve never worked with such a pain in the ass before. I hope you’re goddamn proud of that.”

The villain pulls what could be bandages, or perhaps a packet of wipes. It’s hard to tell anything beyond the fact he’s pulling the hero’s carefully laid out box to shreds. “I am very proud of that,” the villain says faintly.

The next time the hero glances in the mirror, the villain is carefully wrapping his leg in a bandage, and the hero could swear he's smiling.

[vandnana]

In Love With The Enemy [Prologue]

Prologue: Playing Scientist

pairing: lo’ak x female turned na’vi reader

summary: during the time when jake became toruk makto, you were quaritch’s youngest and most valued soldier, the daughter he never had. but, pandora changed you and you died during the final battle, betraying quaritch and wishing that you had been able to do more. now, you have been reborn again, as a na’vi, tasked with quaritch’s new military avatar crew to kill Jake Sully. taking advantage of this second chance at life, you help the Sullys and fall in love along the way.

genre: fluff, angst 

highlights: grace being like a mother to you and jake being like your father figure while quaritch is in his toxic dad era 

warnings: mentions of blood, war, violence, adult language

word count: 6,265

note: thank you to everyone who has been so excited for this series! i wasn’t originally going to make this prologue, but i really wanted to establish the reader’s old life before she was revived and how close the reader was to jake and grace first before diving into the rest of the series! 

[chapter 1] [chapter 2]

The forest of Pandora holds many dangers, but the most dangerous thing about her is that you may grow to love her too much. 

You were the youngest in the regiment back then, too young for war and far too young for what was in store for you in Pandora. But, Quaritch took you in when you were a child. You had no family, no home, and no promise of a real future. He had seen himself in you: cunning, willing, strong, and unafraid. You were everything he could have hoped for in a daughter, but you were real. His prodigy. And not a day went by when you didn’t live up to those expectations. You loved being with Quaritch. He had become your father and he always thought that nothing could ever change that. 

Then you met Grace.

You were only a child when you first met her, and having been around army dogs your whole life, meeting her was a breath of fresh air, air that you never knew you were missing. 

She was hesitant at first. You were Quaritch’s kid, an actual carbon-copy of the worst trigger-happy moron out there. Yet, even with all your harsh military training, you maintained an unmistakeable innocence in your eyes, an innocence that Grace couldn’t ignore when you asked her to teach you about Pandora, about the Na’vi, about the avatars. You were curious, genuinely curious and for Grace, although she would never admit it, it was refreshing too.

“You know, for a little Marine, you’re actually pretty smart.” She was watching you with her elbow resting on the lab table as you took notes of your findings, your eyes glued to your notebook

You didn’t look up at her, “I don’t know about that. I just did what you told me to.”

She put a hand on top of your notebook, halting the pen in your hand, “What I told you to do was simply look at the sample.”

You looked at her with confused eyes, and she sighed, taking the notebook out of your reach.

Holding it up, she displayed your work in front of you, eyes flitting from your notebook to you, “I did not tell you classify your observations and make a surprisingly accurate diagram of the snaketree’s cellular levels.”

You nodded, acknowledging your mistake. You had disobeyed a direct order and unsure what else to say, you apologized on instinct. “I’m sorry, ma’am. It won’t happen again.”

Grace looked at you in awe, laughing suddenly, “This isn’t military training numbnuts. What you did was good work, real good work. I’m impressed.”

“Are you serious?” You were still in disbelief, but the feeling in your chest was one you’d never had before.

She smacked you lightly on the head, “Yes! You’re smarter than all the idiots in your squad, especially your father. And from now on, don’t call me ma’am, okay?”

You rubbed where she had hit you, smiling as you nodded, “Yes ma- I mean, yes Grace.”

Suddenly, you understood what you felt in your chest. It was different from the feeling you would get when you were praised by Quaritch. This feeling, it was like being recognized by a mother. Yes, you were that cunning, willing, strong, and fearless girl that Quaritch adored, but you were also smart beyond what you were told and you had an admirable moral compass that put the rest of your squad to shame.

Grace never let you forget that.

Still, you were Quaritch’s daughter, and being his daughter meant that you had to take on the role of who you always were. His perfect soldier. 

The more time you spent on Pandora, the more you began to see past the façade you let yourself believe for so long. The mission was never about finding diplomatic solutions or building alliances. It was about destruction, money, and humanity’s wretched twist on glory, a misguided glory that Quaritch was more than happy to fulfill. 

When Jake came on board, your father saw that potential, a soldier in with the wrong crowd, the thought invoking a vile taste in his mouth. Yet, with all his personal notions aside, there was an opportunity to be poached. 

Jake was the key to the glory he was chasing.

Quaritch spared no time asking you to summon Jake. He was going to offer him a deal, one that he simply couldn’t refuse. You obliged to the simple request, but your heart was heavy. Six years you had been on Pandora and relations with the indigenous were only getting worse, and with Jake, your father finally found a reliable mole to fulfill his duties. 

You made the short journey to the lab, the way so embedded into you that your legs were working on pure muscle memory. It had been a while since you had been there, too busy with AMP suit duty and perimeter watch to have any time to stop by. You commanded attention instantly walking through the door, the scientists greeting you warmly as you brushed past them. 

Jake, who looked unabashedly lost among the labcoats, immediately looked your way, and seeing you in your full camo, he almost seemed relieved, the pristine, formalin smell of the lab permeating his nose was enough to suffocate him as he sat there, bored out of his mind. 

“Jake Sully?” You approached, your demeanor intimidating at first, but betrayed by the smile on your face when you looked past him, waving. 

He looked behind him to see Grace with a disapproving look in her eyes, “Shouldn’t you be playing soldier, little girl?” 

“I am playing soldier...unfortunately. Which is why I’m here. I need to borrow yours.” You replied, turning your gaze to Jake.

Grace sighed, “Go ahead and take him. He’s pretty much useless here anyway,” Jake looked up at her, but he said nothing, merely scoffing. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll return him to you as soon as possible.” You said sarcastically, putting your hand out in front of her and extending your pinkie, “I pinky promise.” 

You laughed as she rolled her eyes at you, pushing your hand away, “I’d actually rather you keep him, but Selfridge seems to think I need another idiot with a gun.”

“Come on, play nice, Grace.” You reasoned.

She crossed her arms, lowering her eyes at such a hopeless request, “Just get the Marine out of my sight, will you? You’d be doing me such a favor, y/n.”

You glanced down at Jake, who was holding back all the snappy responses that were just at the tip of his tongue. 

“Favor granted.” You replied simply with a smile, walking away, Jake following behind you.

As you reached the doorway, you halted, turning your head back, “I saw those samples you got earlier. I’ll sneak back here after dinner, just don’t look at them without me, okay?”

Looking over her shoulder, Grace couldn’t help but concede to a grin, “Wouldn’t dream of it, but it’s Max you really have to worry about.”

You put a finger out pointedly, your tone stern, “Tell him I’ll shoot him if he touches them.” 

Grace chuckled, “Alright, alright miss Marine. I’ll pass along the message.”

With a final wave, you left, navigating through the halls with Jake beside you, “Sorry about Grace. She’s always prickly at first, but she’ll warm up to you eventually.”

“No kidding.” Jake huffed, looking up at you curiously as he kept up with your pace, “Where are you taking me anyway?”

“The Colonel wants to see you.” You replied, the heaviness in your heart suddenly obvious as you walked, the hallway widening out into one of the base’s hangars, the multiple flyers and AMP suits becoming your audience as you passed them.

Jake maintained his inspecting tone, eyes flitting from the path in front of him to you, “So, what are you? A soldier or one of the science sorties?” 

“Oo “science sortie” I haven’t heard that one before.” You replied sarcastically, but you maintained your placid grin, “I’m y/n.”

He nodded, but still he continued, his tone so arrogant that it almost felt insulting, “Okay y/n...you didn’t answer my question. Playing soldier and playing scientist are two completely different games.”

You scoffed, making eye contact as you pointed to his legs, “And what’s your game? Are you a Marine or are you a cripple?”

He was stunned, having no clever retort, resorting to a simple shrug, “May be out, but you never lose the attitude.”

Having heard all the military cliches, you chuckled, “Look, there’s no game here. Not on Pandora. These RDA goons and this greedy company think they’re on the winning side of a pointless war. To be honest with you, I’d rather be doing what you’re doing.”

“So why aren’t you?” Jake asked, stopping to face you.

You halted, meeting his gaze, your expression visibly troubled. 

“Lieutenant Quaritch.” A deep voice called from behind you, and you turned receiving the soldier’s salute. 

“Warren...what can I do for you?” You asked. 

The soldier pointed to one of the flyers just ahead, your best friend Trudy waving to you as your eyes stopped where she was, “I’ve been relieved of doorman duty. Trudy wanted me to tell you the spot is open for the taking.

Turning your attention to Jake, you asked, “How do you feel about being a doorman? Trudy flies all your “science sorties.” 

Immediately, Jake agreed, “I’m your guy.” 

Warren saluted again, acknowledging Jake with a nod before returning to the flyer.

The disgruntled expression on your face only lasted for a moment, but Jake saw it right away, his eyes softening as he looked at you. He wasn’t all that convinced of his position being covetable or about this war you had talked about, but he did understand the pressure you were under. 

Choosing to lighten the mood, Jake took an opportunity to tease you, clearing his throat before speaking, “Lieutenant Quaritch, huh? That must get you a lot of dates.”

Somehow, Jake knew that it was exactly what you needed, wanting to avoid the conversation in front of too many prying ears. You gave into your own laughter, you responded snarkily, “Probably the same amount as you, old man.”

Jake scoffed, “Old man? I’m not that much older than you.” 

Your eyes darted upward as you put a finger to your chin, your expression filled with feigned wonderment, “Really? I mean, you look like you’ve earned your senior discount with that wheelchair.” 

He chuckled to himself, amused as he retorted, “I’m sure my senior discount doesn’t do your kids meal justice.”

You threw your head back in another fit of laughter, “I’ll give you that one Sully. For now.” 

Stopping, you outstretched your arm, “The Colonel is right through there.” You pointed, seeing your father bench pressing in the makeshift workout room the soldiers created. Although its black, metal bars made it feel more like a prison.

Jake thanked you, and you nodded, putting a fist out, which he proudly bumped.

“Hey Jake,” You began, and he looked over his shoulder, waiting for what you had to say.

The seriousness in your voice was stark as you gave him a curt expression, “I meant what I said earlier about a pointless war. Whatever my dad offers you, he’ll mean it. My dad takes care of his own. Just don’t make promises you can’t keep.” 

He squinted at you inquisitively, “Wasn’t planning to.” 

You turned your heel, looking over your shoulder before leaving, “See you around, old man, unless you want to go back to your retirement home on earth.”

“Go crawl back to your crib, won’t you?” He yelled after you, and with your back turned, you flipped him off, his chuckle becoming fainter and fainter as you walked away.

You stopped by Trudy and she stopped what she was doing, getting up from her crouched position, “Hey, hey what’s wrong? You’ve got that look in your eye.”

Looking back, you watched as Jake talked to your father, “I don’t know. I just have a bad feeling, Trudy.”

Trudy put a comforting hand on your back, “Why don’t we go to the caf and raid the dessert pantry? That always makes you feel better.”

“Can’t hurt.” You replied, the two of you hastily walking to the cafeteria.

You felt slightly better because of Trudy’s efforts, but that bad feeling still plagued you. When night fell, you walked to the soldiers’ quarters, making your way to the far end of it to find your father in his room.

“What did Sully say, sir?” Keeping your nonchalance, you showed no heightened emotions, standing perfectly as your father turned his attention to you.

He had a smirk on his face, which gave away his answer, “We’ll have these savages by the balls in no time.”

“What exactly are you having him do?” You pushed on, maintaining your stoic expression.

Quaritch walked over to you, “I thought about sending you instead. Don’t think it didn’t cross my mind seeing as that Augustine bitch is trying to brainwash you into believe her tree-hugging bullshit.”

Still, you gave him an unreadable expression, waiting for him to continue what he was saying.

“But, you don’t have an avatar. Sully can gather intel that we need from the inside. Understand?”

“Yes, sir. I understand.” You stood with perfect posture as silence enveloped you. 

He smiled at you, putting a hand on your cheek, “Now, go on to bed baby girl. We got a long day ahead of us.” 

~

Could you blame Jake for taking the deal? He didn’t know that he was really making a deal with the devil. 

Jake was like you at first. Ignorant. He didn’t fully grasp the world he was entering into, clinging onto the comfort of what he had always known. He was a Marine who figured it was just another hellhole, another tour that would add to his long list of sins.

He would get a reversal, his old life before a big hole was blown right through the middle of it. Reporting intel was a cakewalk to Jake, and if that meant the promise of his legs back, then there was nothing to lose. 

Three months. That was how long Jake had to negotiate the Na’vi’s relocation. 

It didn’t take long for Grace to find out that Jake was talking to the Colonel, Max rushing in to deliver the news to you all, his mannerisms frantic as he threw his hands up. Grace had her usual cigarette in her mouth, and in her burning rage, she almost bit down on it, her teeth barely sinking in as she grit her teeth. 

Taking it out of her mouth, she let a puff of smoke escape and you all felt her rage as her smoke cloud engulfed you all, “Those idiots have no business sticking their noses in my department.”

The rest of you were silent, listening as she continued her rant. Jake was untouchable, strangely chosen by the Omaticaya, and unfortunately, her only way back in with the clan. You could see her thinking as her eyes went to the ceiling, her forehead furrowing as she considered what her next move was. Seemingly, she had found the answer after her mental contemplation, immediately ordering everyone to gather everything up.  

Quickly, she walked over to her station, her eyes scanning the contents of the table. 

You followed after her, “What are you doing to do?”

She handed you her cigarette, her hands at work as she began to organize what was in front of her, “We’re getting out of Dodge. I’m not about to let your brainless father and that ass-hat Selfridge micro-manage this thing.”

She had handed you the cigarette so haphazardly that you almost grabbed the  part that had been lit, cinging it on your belt once she gave it to you, “So, where are we going?” 

She stopped, facing you with a warning look, “We? You really think daddy dearest is gonna let you out of his sight? He already gets that ugly vein in his forehead every time you do anything that involves me.” 

“Let him have his ugly vein because I’m not staying here if you’re not.” You protested, searching her eyes for approval, but she only looked at you with a pessimistic expression. 

She put a hand on your cheek, her steely tone betrayed by the concern in her eyes, “Don’t push it. “

You placed a hand over hers, “You can’t change my mind. So, just tell me. Where are you thinking of moving everything?”

Grace groaned at your stubbornness, letting go of her hold on your face as she pulled her tablet out to show you, “Site 26, up in the Hallelujah Mountains.” 

Your eyes lit up as an idea sprang into your mind, “I have to go.” You said abruptly making your way back to the hangar, your eyes avidly searching for your father.

When you caught sight of him, he was about to get into an AMP suit, but the sound you calling him made him jump back down, his head turned in your direction.

He immediately gave you a toothy grin, pleased to see you as he put an affectionate hand on your back, “Is my little girl keepin’ everyone in line?”

“I’m practically walking intimidation to these people, sir.” You joked, but he took you seriously, looking at you with such pride.

“Nothing wrong with being feared. That’s how we Quaritchs get it done.” 

“Speaking of getting things done,” He leaned in closer, attentive as he waited for you to continue, “The scientists are about to have a change in scenery. I know you got Jake in there, but let me fly with Trudy. With me around too, you’ve practically got your dream team.” 

Facing you, he put his hands on your shoulders, his smile even wider than before as the corners of his eyes crinkled in pure regard for you, “Taking initiative. I wish I had ten more like you.”

You smiled back, “So, I have your approval?”

“You’ve got my approval,” His tone changing ominously as he stared down at you, “But don’t let these limp-dick science majors fool you. There ain’t nothing worth saving here. You know the mission, y/n.” 

Hugging him, you let the smile on your face fall, the graveness in his tone sending a whirring ache in your stomach. “You know me better than that, dad. I’m your daughter.” You reassured him, your voice so convincing that even you had almost believed the lie you were feeding him. 

He leaned back, looking at you with a pleased grin, “Damn right you are.” 

~

“After all this time, we finally get to fly together. Ain’t that a bitch.” Trudy said, handing you bags as you set them into the back of her flyer.

“Better late than never.” You hummed, overjoyed to finally be away from the base.

After everything was secured, everyone’s avatars were loaded on, their impossibly large stature so lifeless that they almost seemed like statues. Flying through the mountains, you all looked around in awe, Trudy laughing at you all as your mouths gaped open, too consumed in absolute wonderment to even process her laugh. This wasn’t the first time you had seen the mountains, but that didn’t make them any less remarkable. Landing, you all wasted no time making yourselves comfortable, picking out your bunks, setting your stuff down, and inspecting the entire place. 

Over the next few weeks, Jake stayed true to what he was ordered to do, diligent and detailed with every report after his excursions using his avatar. Sometimes, he would do them alone, always making sure that no one was watching, but other times you were right beside him, cringing as he attempted to make sense of the Omaticaya.

After the first month, you could sense Jake’s weariness as he closed his video log, his finger nervously hovering over the button to send it in. 

Walking over, you placed a hand on the table, “Yeah, I’d be hesitating to send that in too. You look like crap, old man.” You snickered, hoping to subside his worries with your joke.

He met your eyes, annoyed, “Whatever, baby face. Don’t you have a kids meal to eat or something?.”

“I had to check on my favorite old guy. You know, make sure you didn’t keel over or anything.” You pouted, earning a scowl from him.

Taking a seat on top of the table, you tilted your head at him, What’s with the hesitation? You usually just send things in and walk away.” You prodded.

He pressed the button, not wanting to explain himself, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lowering your eyes at him, you scoffed, “It’s not a crime to like it here. Should I remind you how earth is practically just a ticking time bomb? The core is caving in on itself as we speak.”

“I want my legs back.” He replied, but even he wasn’t convinced by his tone.

Getting up, you let your arms fall to your sides, “You have legs.”

“Not always.” Jake snapped back. 

“You know Jake, like it or not, blue’s always been your color.” You hinted, leaving him to contemplate your words as you went back to your bunk. 

He was fighting hard denial, falling in love with the forest little by little, and everything it was giving him. Jake didn’t realize how much he missed running, hell even walking was a blessing. Things were hard at first, but with Neytiri pushing his limits, he couldn’t even complain, too grateful that he was even able to get back up from falling. 

And suddenly, Jake finally had something to lose. 

You watched as everything was backwards for Jake, the world he had thrust himself into for a simple mission becoming the reality, while his waking life had become the dream. Pandora was changing him, just like it changed you.

Learning the ways of the Omaticaya was the catalyst, but then there was also Grace, and Norm, and of course, you. While he had found unlikely friendships with Norm and Grace, you had become close friends since the day you first met. 

In truth, you reminded him of his brother, Tommy, the science guy, the smarter one. But Tommy didn’t have that callous edge that Jake’s military background imprinted on him. It was the one thing about Jake that Tommy could never relate to.

You could though, and you did. 

Every time. 

You were practically cut from the same tree, and despite your usual dizzying scientific discussions, Na’vi lingo and occasional latin-rooted vernacular, you actually understood him without really trying.

You were younger than him, younger than everyone, a constant cause for concern because aside from all your one-liners and jokes, Jake felt responsible for you. You were better than him in so many ways, and he respected you,  cared about you, more than he cared about himself. 

And the longer you were around Jake, the more you got to know him, and the easier it became to see his internal struggle. He didn’t know who he was anymore, his concept of loyalty faltering as the burden of what Quaritch had asked him had finally laid stones in his heart. 

Jake’s three months had gone by in a blink. To the disappointment of your father, his last report was more than three weeks from that deadline. Your father had called him back to base, Jake’s lag stirring his intolerance for deviancy, but you intercepted it, offering to talk to him yourself. 

You waited for Jake by his pod, looking out at the Pandora forest through the window and taking in the tranquility of the scene before you. Beyond the clearing were the endless flora and fauna and amidst the air and soft dirt, were speckles of life in the form of the local insects and animals. You peered outside in awe, wondering what it would feel like to explore the forest without the confines of your feeble humanity.

Behind you, you could hear the pod open, stirring you away from your thoughts. You turned around, Jake’s expression completely contemplative as he noticed you. 

You gave him an equally reflective expression, your mind carrying an unwieldy weight as you dreaded the conversation that daunted the both of you.

He pulled himself out of the pod, but you remained where you were. “My dad is starting to question your resolve. Will Neytiri and her people move from HomeTree?”

You knew the answer already, and Jake buried his face in his hands, “They don’t want anything. There’s nothing to trade, but what could they possibly want from us? Lite beer and blue jeans? They’re never gonna leave, and I don’t blame them.”

You hung your head low, “It’s not wrong for you to like it here, Jake. You didn’t do anything wrong. My father roped you into this mess.”

He lifted his head up from his hands, his expression so burdened and beaten down, “I can barely remember my old life y/n. I don’t even know who I am anymore.” 

You leaned forward, putting comforting hands on his shoulders, “You know who you are Jake.” 

He looked up, his eyes begging you to tell him who that was. “You’re one of The People now, and this forest is your home. You can protect it still.”

Jake never cried, but he almost did as he avoided your eyes, “You once told me not to make a promise I can’t keep.”he let out a defeated sigh, “Should have taken you seriously back then.” 

“What matters is what you do now. Saving them, that’s all that matters. I’ll tell my dad what he wants to hear, but you know what you have to do, and you’re the only one who can do it.” You kept a meek smile, patting his shoulders.

He was silent for a moment, nodding as he took in your words, “Whatever happens, I’m not bringing you down with me. Who knows what your dad will do when he finds out you’ve gone rogue.” His face was etched in concern, his worry for you embedded in the lines of his forehead.

You shrugged, your expression grave as you frowned, “A father protects. It’s what gives him meaning.” 

You paused, looking down at your clasped hands as you reminisced about the life you had back on earth, “I owe Quaritch my life, you know. My real parents didn’t want me and no one else did either. For a long time, he was all I had, and I thought that everything he did was to protect me.”

You met Jake’s eyes again, your expression fierce with determination, “But, kids grow up and they realize who their parents are and they either accept that or fight it with all they got. I choose to fight.”

Jake’s expression softened as you continued on, your emotion suddenly overwhelming as you felt your voice almost break, “You, Grace, Trudy,  Norm, you guys are my family. I got your back Jake. No matter what.”

He put a hand on your head, a genuine smile on his lips, “Don’t worry about me. You’re the baby. It’s my job to protect you.”

You shook your head, “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“What can I say?” He sighed, shrugging, “I’m a stubborn old man.”

~

The next day, the bulldozers came and not long after that came the destruction of HomeTree. There was nothing you all could do except sit and watch as Quaritch ordered the columns to be brought down, the Na’vi scattering in waves of blue as they witnessed their home engulf in flames, the cataclysmic reds and oranges muting the once green landscape and settling into the soulless smoke cloud that rose above them all, its presence like a deadly omen.

Grace, Norm, and Jake were detained immediately, and just like Jake had said, he protected you, pretending you had no involvement in anything that happened. You, Trudy, and Max did you all you could to help them escape when you got the chance, and as you approached her flyer, Jake stopped, urging you to leave so you wouldn’t get caught. 

You refused, insisting to come with them, but Grace had already made the decision for you, pulling you into a hug, she caressed your hair, “You need to stay here, baby girl.”

You could feel tears fall down your face as you wrapped your arms around her, savoring her embrace before letting go, unwillingly giving in to the urgency of the situation.

As they entered into the hangar, you ran back to the heart of the base, hiding while soldiers charged toward them, your father taking the lead. Later that night, you found out Grace was dying and you cried alone. You were beyond consolation, your grief consuming your heart, the ache tormenting you as you sat in the base, unable to do anything for her. You had seen death. Countless times. But not being with her for hers felt like you were the one you had been killed.

It was hard to feign your innocence after you found out that it was your father who shot her, and it became damn near impossible when Jake told you she had finally passed. Still, you were strong, playing the perfect soldier until the final battle came.

Fleets of ships entered into enemy territory, rows and rows of them creating an ugly, gray hoard amidst Pandora’s natural beauty. When you had entered, warriors on their ikrans swarmed, shooting left and right and bringing down the smaller flyers one by one.

You were with your father when he gave you the order to shoot Trudy down, her flyer adorned with war paint as she targeted your father’s ship, guns blazing. 

“I won’t do it.” You refused outright. 

In all your life, you had never been defiant, stunning him only for a second before he rose his voice at you, “Shoot her down, y/n!”

You got up, gritting your teeth as you spoke, your contempt silvery in your tongue, “I won’t kill my friend.” 

Seething, he turned away from you, “If you won’t, I will.” 

Before you could stop him he armed all pods, sending endless shots toward Trudy. You were frozen, unable to peel your eyes away as you watched her rotor explode, her flyer plummeting further and further down to the ground until she was engulfed in a deadly explosion. Still, you were agonized from the pain of losing Grace, but your loss became insurmountable watching your father murder your best friend. 

He paid no mind to that pain as he continued his plight, too focused to care about what he had done to you. All felt hopeless suddenly, your heart breaking as you watched more destruction unfold before you. Ikran and Na’vi were being shot in the air and below you men and women were being shot down, the fits of fleeting light coming from the gunfire of the AMP suits still visible from so high up.

Then, as if a prayer had been answered, ikran were flying in swarms from all directions, their masses attacking ships and taking down sentries. On the other side of you, you saw Jake, landing on top of one of the ships, unleashing grenades and jumping off to land on the biggest ikran you had ever seen, Toruk. 

You watched as Toruk maneuvered through the arching rock columns that surrounded the Tree of Souls and descended quickly to your father’s ship. With a loud thud, Jake was above you, unleashing grenades. Seeing him, your father steered the ship right, rupturing his balance as he fell backward. The grenade exploded, triggering the oxygen breach alarm. You grabbed an exo pack as you ran to the ship’s hatch, your father yanking you to the ground, his gun already in his hand as he stationed himself in the opening. Rushing, you took hold of the ladder, pushing past your father toward Jake, who was barely holding onto the ship, a missile already in his hand.

Jake threw the missile into the rotor as Quaritch fired a shot, the bullet meant for Jake hitting you as you blocked its path, the blood pooling in your chest instantly. In that moment, Quaritch dropped his gun, running toward you with his arms outstretched, his attempt at catching you futile as you already fell backwards.

A father protects. It’s what gives him meaning.

What Quaritch had failed to be, Jake fulfilled, scooping you into his arms as you both tumbled downward, tightly wrapping himself around your dying body to brace you from the impact. When you had finally fallen to the forest floor, you were heaving, your vision fading as he towered over you.

He was holding onto your limp body, tears streaming down his face. “No, no. You’re gonna be fine, y/n.”

You had never seen him cry before, and that made everything feel all the more heart-wrenching. There was no hope to save you.

You smiled at him like nothing was wrong, “You know me better than that Jake. I’m a scientist. I don’t believe in fairy tales.”

He let out a weak chuckle. It was the same thing that Grace had said to him when she lay dying, making his heart twist even more. He was in utter shock, his eyes suddenly drowned with tears while hugging you, as if doing so would bring back the warmth that was slowly leaving your body. 

You stared at him, piecing your final words together as you could feel the creeping darkness approach. Putting a hand on his cheek, you finally knew what you wanted to say. “You’re a good man Jake. Thanks for being my family.”

“Y/n, you’re gonna be alright.” He cooed, his heart breaking as your face paled and paled.

Taking one final breath, you smiled, “You’ll make a great dad someday.” 

“Y/n.” Jake’s voice quietly inaudible, but your eyes went blank and your hand dropped from his cheek.

Your body was cold and bloody as he held onto you, and as he tried so desperately to search for a remaining light in your eyes, he was only filled with more pain, an irrevocable pain welling inside of him, his heart blocking his mind from making sense of the fact that you were really dead. 

You reminded Jake of his brother Tommy, and just like him, you were dead too. He felt like he had failed you, the pain and rage stirring inside of him becoming a strength as he went up against your father. 

“Give it up, Quaritch. It’s all over.” Jake yelled out, his call becoming a perfectly timed distraction as Neytiri tried to free herself from the weight of a dead thanator.

“Nothing’s over while I’m breathing.” the Colonel spat, his words imbued with his pure hatred and scorn, “You killed my little girl, Sully. And for that, death is too good for you. I want to see you suffer.”

“It’s your fault she’s gone!” Jake hissed. 

“She was my daughter, and I should have never trusted her with you. You think you’re one of them?” So blinded by his own rage, the Colonel blamed Jake for your death, the fuel of his grief giving him an unholy boost in his fighting spirit.

“Time to wake up.” Walking to the pod, he broke the window, filling the oxygen isolated space with Pandora’s air. Panting, Jake could feel his link go in and out, his body convulsing in response to the breach. 

When Quaritch had turned back to Jake, he laughed maniacally, enjoying as he watched Jake struggle. Grabbing him by the hair, he pulled Jake’s knife out, “I’m gonna love cutting you up with your own knife.”

Jake even in his lightheaded state, managed to keep his resolve. Hissing aggressively as Quaritch inched and inched toward his neck, Jake could feel the imminence of blood being drawn until he stopped, Quaritch’s hands going limp, dropping Jake and the knife. As fast as the first came, so did a second, dealing the final blow. Neytiri watched as Quaritch died, satisfied as he became void of life, the misguided glory he was chasing dying with him.

~

Those who weren’t loyal to the Na’vi were sent back to earth, and in his last ditch attempt to save you, Jake had taken you before Mo’at, hoping that Great Mother still held your life in her intricate balance.

Mo’at pleaded for you underneath the Tree of Souls, the Great Mother’s roots glowing around your lifeless body, but dimming quickly.

Lifting her head up, Mo’at looked at Jake, choosing her words very carefully, “In this time of great sorrow, she cannot be saved Jake Sully, but the Great Mother still holds her in her heart. She is not gone from us forever.” 

Neytiri held him as he stared ahead blankly, so struck by his grief that he hadn’t truly grasped what Mo’at was saying. When he had shaken himself out of his state, he picked your body up, burying you where they had buried Grace’s human body, the Omaticaya chanting to Eywa as Jake, Norm, and all the other scientists gathered to say their final goodbye.

And in that final goodbye, you too had become a relic of the past, but your memory lived on as Jake continued his life, your death a painful reminder that he must always protect his family. 

You had told him something long ago, something he would never forget.

A father protects. It’s what gives him meaning. 

~

Author’s Note: 

My lovers, 

how did you all like that prologue? please let me know in the comments!! i’d love to know what you think :) writing grace and trudy’s death hurt me in my soUL, ITS NOT THIS ANGSTY FOR THE LATER PARTS I SWEAR

again, i wanna thank you all for waiting so patiently for this series!! 

part 1 is almost done as well and im beyond excited for you guys to see reader and jake reunite :) AND OFCCC READER AND LO’AK MEETING OMGGGGGG

for all those who wanted to be part of the taglist, you’re listed below

if you want to be tagged in the next parts, please comment on this post or send me a dm or an ask with your blog name! 

Love,

Nana <3

taglist: [some of the blogs didn’t allow me to tag some blogs, but i wanted to include them anyways!] @fifty-shades-of-mischeif @pretty-npeach @tonni30 @kirikuki @itsemy01 @persondoingstuff  @23victoria @soobinsrose @starjane312 @valentineoxox@imthefunniestpersonalive @justlillythinking @mae-is-crazy @scarletrosesposts @paniniii @bloodyziggy @mister-police   @mrs-sullys-blog @niiight-dreamerrrr @promiseofeywa @wilmalovegood @sssspencerrr @mochi-yu @d4rno @lovekeeho @dreama-little-dreamof-me @bammtoli @strawberryclouds22 @neteyamoa @devil-on-acid​ @a-queen-blr​ @my-name-duh  @mayabritjohn @annoyingstrawberryballoon @0-0h0-0 @glitter-in-my-heroin  @katkat1918

[ihopesocomic]

I think the obsession of most people with the main characters having kids at the end has less to do with heteronormative expectations and more with:

That designing babies by fusing the parents is fun.

And since the kids are usually blank slates, they're prone to be used as "canon OCs" and leave the story open for sequels.

Also, many people enjoy baby fluff.

I'm still happy that Storm and Hopeful aren't going to have cubs, it's a breath of fresh air. And it's not like IHS doesn't have cubs characters already.

I think when the literal context of the comments we’re discussing is that people find out Storm isn’t a boy and proceed to complain, it has everything to do with heteronormative expectations. Sorry.

And everything you’ve listed can literally be done without also questioning how lesbians can have biological children and not thinking that adoptive children aren’t on the same level. Such as designing love children like we did, where you’re just designing a combination of the designs of Hope and Storm without the expectation they have kids for real. Or designing an adoptive child OC.

As a side note: we also shouldn’t need to remind people that gay couples can literally adopt if Storm and Hope not being able to have kids naturally bothers them. We literally show this can happen in the IHS universe on several occasions. That part also just seems very weird to me as somebody who was raised by people who were not my biological relations. oof - RJ

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of Both Worlds (part 11)

Tw: reader got sick again lol this time to the ER, mentions of violence, kidnapping sequence, queerphobia from Monty

Damn guys i was expecting the other options to win but most of u guys wanted back to the university??

Vote down below guys, will start making the next chapter after 20 votes

Part 12

You decided to head to your university. They don't skimp on their snack budget, hence they provide the best snacks. You took the medicine that Yves paid for you before leaving the house.

Halfway through the bus ride though, you're starting to regret your choice. Your head and shoulders became extremely heavy and you feel like crap.

But it's too late to turn back now. The next bus is in an hour.

You stumbled out of the bus and rubbed your eyes. Yawning and scratching your back.

Bleary eyed, you started walking away from the station. Feeling like you're forgetting something, but you shrug it off. Thinking it should be in your bag.

Except, you didn't have your bag.

You gasped when you realized that you're not carrying anything behind you. But then relief washed over you when you realized that it's at home and not on the bus that's disappearing on the horizon. Then, that also means you left the door unlocked.

You sighed, sticking your hand in your pocket, planning to tell your housemates about it.

You pulled out a rectangular device and tried unlocking the screen.

Except there was no screen. Because it's not a smartphone, it's a power Bank.

That's right, Yves gave you his power bank to use indefinitely. You were charging it right next to your phone... what is wrong with you?

You groan, oh this is bad.

It's the 21st century, memorizing phone numbers is not the trend, you don't know what number to call aside from emergency services or your own. Maybe you remembered the numbers of your parents, but they're in another country. What could they do?

You took a deep breath. This is fine, you're in the university not some sketchy alleyway. You know the schedule of the next bus and if there's an emergency, you could just use a payphone to dial 911.

You have some cash on you and that's fine. You'll live, it's enough to pay for your bus fare.

So you walked, in a zombie-like way. You should have just rotted in bed, scrolling through your social media and burning your phone credits. But no, you just had to leave the house.

At least the weather is cool and the air is fresh. You continued walking, finally reaching past the entrance.

Everything feels severely foggy. You couldn't think straight, there were a couple times where you would stand in front of a potted plant and stare at it for minutes. Then you would snap yourself out of it and walk away. God knows what medication it was, you just took it as per the pharmacist's instructions. You're sure it's playing a part in your current incapable state.

You rubbed your eyes and whined. Pacing around, finding a hard time to figure out what to do. Your head hurts and your entire body isn't cooperating with what your brain is signalling. Your brain isn't even working with you.

What did you just eat? Did you accidentally poison yourself with the wrong pills?

Through your bleary eyes, you spotted a tall figure jogging up to you. But your lowered inhibitions prevented you from feeling alarmed, you just want to rest at home.

"Hey, hey, stop that." You felt someone gently grabbing your wrists, stopping you from rubbing your now red eyes. "Are you alright?"

It's Montgomery. He's kneeling to your level and staring deep into your eyes, his massive hands holding your head in place as he inspect you.

"What's up with you?" He asked, you're still processing what, or who, you're looking at.

"Damn, what did he do to you? You're all drugged up!" He scrambled to get back up on his feet. "C'mon, sweetheart. Let's get you to a doctor."

Confused and afraid, you tried protesting but Montgomery ended up carrying you bridal-style. You tried screaming for help, but he hushed you.

"Shh... it's okay, it's okay. I'm not gonna drop ya'. You're as light as a feather!" He cooed. "I got ya', you don't have to worry 'bout a thing, I'll take care of you, I'll save ya' from that bastard."

He stuffed you into his back seat, laying you down on your back. You shrieked when he climbed atop and straddled your hips, but he's only doing that to fluff the pillow under your head. The man got off and tucked you under his blanket, he then secured you with both seatbelts so you wouldn't roll off when he drives.

"Bend your knees for me, darlin'. I can't shut the door with your legs juttin' out!"

You refused and kept screaming, hoping that someone could help you. Which made Montgomery uncomfortable, not because he thinks you're scared of him, because he thinks you're in pain.

"Shh... I know, I know. I'll make it all better. I promise, you just have to hold out for a little longer, okay?" He gripped onto your calves and pushed them into the car. Immediately after, he shut the car door and dashed to the driver's seat.

You tried unbuckling yourself and unlocking the door, but you're at a severe disadvantage since you're still severely disorientated. You gave up when the car started speeding away from the venue.

Through your haziness, you managed to ask why he's in the university.

"I was hopin' to find ya', and I did. You're lucky I spotted you before some other creeps did! They'd snatch you right up and you couldn't fight back 'cause you're all doped up!"

It's unbelievable that he didn't realize that he was describing himself.

You asked how he knew to find you at six in the morning.

"Well, I remember when I had to go to school. I had classes at 7AM, my folks came an hour early while I came an hour late. 'Cause I was helping out with the farm. I don't reckon you have a farm to help out on. Do ya?" Such solid reasoning comes from the maniac himself.

You asked him what happened yesterday after he was escorted out, not realizing that he would take your curiosity as a concern for his wellbeing, and hence another declaration of your love.

"Aww is someone worried about me? I'm fine, that fucking queer roughed me up a lil'. But he played dirty, bet that asshole won't have the balls to get in a fair fight with me. Bless your heart for witnessing all the ugly. But I'm here now, I'll keep you safe from that monster. What did he do to ya'?"

You wanted to tell him that Yves is your boyfriend and Montgomery is the monster in your eyes. But immediately zipped your mouth closed because you're unsure as to how he is going to react to that, you can't take him on normally, let alone sick and potentially drugged.

"Sweetheart?" He glanced at you through his rearview mirror. You tried speaking, but you found that your tongue was too swollen for you to say anything. Drool dribbled down your chin as you found it increasingly harder to breathe.

"What the fuck..." He muttered under his breath before switching up his tone to calm you down. "I-it's fine! It's gonna be okay, baby. Just... think of the Lord. He'll get us through this!" You heard the whirring of his engine grow louder as he floored the gas pedal.

You wish Yves is here. He would have known what to do.

__

You took the biggest gasp of your life, greedily sucking in the air as it rushes into your lungs. You winced as the searing light stabbed your strained eyes, and sounds of people chattering, beeping, and rushing reached your ears. Coldness nipped at your skin and you felt something attached to your face. The air smelled of iodoform, and you coughed and hacked as everything was overwhelming you.

Finally, you managed to focus and process where you are.

"Mx Joe?"

Who?

"Mx Joe, can you hear me?" You turned your head to the side, the pillow slightly blocking your view. You saw a woman in scrubs and a pair of gloves, next to her were other nurses rushing the code cart to other patients in the room.

You looked at the rubber oxygen mask strapped to your face. Your thigh felt sore and tender, and then you realized why when you saw another nurse nearby holding an empty syringe.

The woman began introducing herself as a medical resident, you didn't pay attention when she told you her name. Soon after, she began explaining how you got here.

She said that your partner brought you in; unconscious, swollen as if you were stung by an army of bees and unable to breathe. You had an allergic reaction to something you consumed, inhaled, or touched. She asked if you ate anything you suspected could be the culprit a few hours ago.

The pill. You must be allergic to the medication.

You and she went back and forth, answering all the relevant questions she asked you. This time you told her your real name and true details. All she did was note it down in her clipboard without asking further questions as to why Montgomery gave her a fake name.

She did a couple more tests to make sure you didn't suffer from other complications. Once she deemed you healthy enough, she sent you on your way to be discharged, the ER is too busy for you to linger there any longer than necessary.

Another nurse wheelchaired you out of the Emergency department and into the waiting room, where Montgomery was there nervously fiddling with his hands while waiting for you.

"Joe!" He exclaimed before running towards you. "God, I was so damn worried! What the hell happened to them?" Montgomery asked the nurse, his hands squished your face into a compressed chunk.

You were reminded once again, Yves's soft touches are superior.

"They had an allergic reaction to a drug prescribed to treat their nausea. They're fine." The nurse turned to you. "Get some rest and drink enough fluids. You're going to feel tired, but that is to be expected. Any questions?"

You looked at Montgomery and he stared at you back.

You were contemplating whether you should scream for help. But... if it wasn't for him, you would be dead. If the police are involved, he will surely go to jail this time. And, you don't exactly feel comfortable ruining his life after he saved yours.

He's mentally deranged, but so far you think he wouldn't cause too much harm to you.

You slowly shook your head and prayed that you wouldn't regret your decision to not snitch on him.

"Alright. That will be all." The nurse told Montgomery the directions to the payment counters.

He began pushing you in your wheelchair with him.

"What a week, huh?" He tried to lighten the mood, but you're as somber as ever. Badly yearning for your phone and Yves's wallet, this is going to be a death sentence for your wallet.

You're dreading your turn. This is not going to end well for you, you can't call anyone aside from your parents who are on another continent. You wished that you memorized Yves's number.

When your name is called, Montgomery didn't react. It was called the second time, and you hesitantly brought your hands to the wheels. He grabbed your wrist.

"Hey, whatcha' doing?"

The receptionist called your name again. You sighed, coming clean that your name isn't Joe M. To your surprise, he wasn't shocked or upset, all he did was stand up and walk towards the counter.

You stretched your neck, trying to gain vantage over the sea of sick people. Montgomery took out a tattered, leather wallet from the back pocket of his work pants. You saw his eye widen momentarily and he seemed to be arguing with the receptionist about something. In the end, he swiped his slightly chipped debit card on the machine. He looked uneasy as he keyed in his PIN number on the card reader.

He collected the receipt before stuffing it into his wallet. Montgomery walked back with a bittersweet smile.

You asked him how much it was.

"Don't worry about it, honey. I'm just glad yer' fine."

You said that he didn't have to pay for you. You could do it yourself.

"Oh yeah? You and with what money? You shouldn't be thinkin' 'bout money troubles at this age. You should be focusin' on gettin' that degree!" He laughed, ruffling your hair. "Any respectable boyfriend would pay for his partner's bills!"

You told him that he isn't your boyfriend.

"Sure, sweetheart." He dismissed you as he grabbed the handles of your wheelchair. You stopped him and said you could walk. Before he could react to that, you used all your might to stand up, mildly stumbling around a bit before finding your balance. He stuck his arms around you, ready to catch if you were to fall.

"Y'know, you shouldn't push yourself too hard. I'm pretty sure the hospital is gonna let us borrow this till' the exit." You began walking away. More like limping.

"H-hey! Wait up!" He jogged to catch up with you.

He wrapped his arm around your waist and urged you in another direction.

"I parked this way, c'mon." He rested his hand on the small of your back. It's a little too far down for comfort and you didn't like how he would rub you.

__

His idea of "sick people's food" is something people eat to get sick.

But you're starving at this point, so you're scarfing down an English muffin breakfast sandwich. Letting the grease coat your fingers and the yolk covers your face, it's a messy ordeal.

"I gotta bring you out to eat more..." Mumbled Montgomery as he watched you devour two of the same sandwiches. He developed a newfound distaste for Yves on top of his strong, existing ones. Montgomery is disgusted that Yves didn't even have the decency to feed "his love". What kind of man let's his beloved starve like this? Definitely not Montgomery.

He only got three bites in and you're now stealing his hash browns. You don't know where you are, this was the first time visiting the hospital. All you know is that he's currently parked in a fast food joint's free parking lot.

It's a seven-minute drive from the hospital. You looked at the built-in clock on his radio.

10:59AM. You have an hour left to get home before Yves arrives and potentially causes a catastrophe.

"So... (name)." You watched him from the corner of your eyes. "What was up with Joe M.?"

You gulped. You said it was an inside joke.

"Well, what is it?" You told him it would ruin the joke.

"Keep your secrets then." He took another bite out of his meal.

You and he ate in silence, mostly him. You were somewhat noisy because you didn't bother closing your mouth when chewing.

"Relax, it's not gonna run away." He chuckled as you stuffed your face with more of the sandwich. Montgomery bought 6 in total, expecting to eat 4 of them. But in reality, he only got to eat 2.

"Y'know, you don't have to do all that for money." You looked at him, waiting for him to elaborate on what he meant.

"I know those wealthy bastards, they go after pretty young things like you and suck your youth from ya' like vampires. It ain't worth it."

You forced a giant chunk of unchewed food down your throat.

"H-hey don't do that! You're gonna choke!" He patted your back as you coughed.

You asked in between hacks if he's talking about Yves.

"Is that what his name is? But yeah, I'm talkin' about him."

You asked him if he thinks you're prostituting yourself.

"No! I- I mean- I don't know, I was thinkin' more of the sugar baby line of work. It ain't necessarily mean you gotta be bumpin' uglies in the bedroom- you don't seem like the type. But I sure do know he ain't got ya best interests at heart." He explained.

You brought your arm up to wipe your mouth with your sleeve. But This time, he was prepared. He held your arm and pushed a napkin to your chin. He took the liberty to clean your face up for you.

You definitely preferred Yves's gentle touch over Montgomery's brutish ones.

"He ain't good for you, (name). Trust me on this." You tried to pull away from his rigorous wiping, but he held your head in place with the other hand.

"Folks from back home were deceived by men like these. They come to the city lookin' to build a better future. Then a wealthy man came along, makin' promises that he can't keep in exchange for their souls." He released you, taking the dirtied tissue with him. Montgomery placed it on his dashboard, planning to dispose of it later.

"...and guess what, those men left them high and dry. They lost their money, their body and their minds. Now, my folks aren't city dwellers, we're from the countryside, they didn't know any better. I know you ain't from here too."

You asked Montgomery what made him think that way.

"You have a heart of gold and hands of sand. Folks born and raised here are damn sadists with a pair of soft hands. Ain't none of them picked a field rake up before."

You said don't think you picked up a field rake in your life either.

"That ain't the point, I'm sayin' you don't blend in with the rest of these fuckin' pricks. And you're attractin' trouble like this Sugar Daddy of yours."

There is no point in trying to correct him. You just nodded in acknowledgement.

He held both of your hands in his, enveloping them tightly into a ball. It hurts a bit.

"Please, darlin'. I beg of you, stay away from him. He's gonna break your heart and I sure hell don't want to see my baby in tears. I will treat you right, be with me and you ain't gotta worry 'bout a thing. I'm gonna feed you, drive you around and buy you stuff you always wanted." He pressed your hands against his cheek, with Montgomery's stubble scratching your palm.

"Please? Could you stop seeing him for me, please, sweetheart? I'll treat you so much better than that monster. I will take care of you." He crooned, placing a kiss or two on your hands. You grimaced when you felt the wetness of his saliva on your skin.

He is insane. You looked around for a possible opportunity to escape, but there isn't any.

You glanced at the clock.

It says 11:29AM.

Montgomery realizes what you're looking at and connected the pieces. He lets go of your hands and begins tidying up around him

"You have class, don'tcha'? I'll get you back to school. But... I think ya' oughta' listen to the doctor and rest at home. You were damn near seeing the pearly gates today." He buckled his seat belt and reignited his engine.

You wince as you hear the car roar back to life.

You thought about the different possible scenarios that could happen. You're thankful that he didn't realize it's your semester break now.

[lantanasmuttyfanfics]

Dizzie angst? 🥺🥺

Look no hate to Dexven buuuutttt I’m kinda glad for a breath of fresh air and what’s better than some good angst

Anyway depending on how many new commissions I get will determine when I post my special announcement but as of right now it should be out by next Saturday

Hope you enjoyed and have a great dayy!!

——————————

Lizzie gathered her things before throwing a glare at Sparrow, shouting “of with your head!” As she pivoted on her heel, stepping on the glass of the broken beaker before she left.

Sparrow rolled his eyes while watching the princess leave. He scoffed, it wasn’t even his fault the piston exploded, Lizzie just didn’t know how to appreciate his music.

Stomping off, he made his way to the table his friends were sat at. He made a big show of throwing his things down as he shouted “I hate Lizzie Hearts!”

What he didn’t realize was that Lizzie had also been heading to a different table near by and heard him say that.

She paused hiding behind a pillar as she saw her boyfriend, Daring perk up. She thought he was going to defend her even if it was just a little.

Just because she said that their relationship had to be kept a secret doesn’t meant that she didn’t expect him to stand up for her at times like this, even if it was a little.

“She’s so entitled and acts like a snooty little princess and because of what!” Lizzie clicked her tongue, carefully watching as Daring straightened.

“I mean I see why you failed at getting her to go on a date with you Daring. She’s a nightmare!” Lizzie felt her blood run cold as she heard what her boyfriend said it return.

“I know right! Total nightmare, I mean talk about being a spoiled brat! How could she resist me!” Lizzie didn’t see it, but as the words left Darings mouth he silently winced.

“You know one time I asked her to move her foot so I can pass by and she yelled- ‘off with your head!’ Like just move your foot.” Everyone at the table laughed at Darings comment, the sound attracting attention from everyone.

“Sometimes I wonder if her voice ever gets tired of all that shrillyness.” As the comments and remarks kept coming in, Lizzie felt herself closing in.

But as she noticed Kitty approaching her, she took a steady breath and held her head high as she walked past Daring and his friends.

As she did from the corner of her eye she could see that fear and anxiety set into Daring, because he knew that she heard and he knew that she’d never forgive him.

But maybe she would have let him explain himself if he stopped his friends from laughing and whispering as she passed by.

—

Lizzie slumped against the well of wonders, her head buried in her hands. Sometimes when she was upset she’d sit next to the well of wonders and pretend she was sitting next to her mother.

With the curse on wonderland this really was the closest she could be to her mother, and to Alistair and Bunny she thought.

Generally she tried not to think about her mum or her two friends that were still stuck in wonderland. It only upset her more.

Her peace and thinking were suddenly broken when heavy footsteps approached her. “Lizzie?” Darings voice was hesitant as if she was one of those dragon he had to slay.

She gritted her teeth in annoyance at his disturbance, why couldn’t she just be left alone when she wanted to be?

Daring called her name again, this time sitting beside her but a far away distance. Lizzie caught herself before she could say ‘off with your head!’ His words ringing in her ear.

“Please just let me explain. Lizzie please.” He tried to grab her hand but she snatched it away, her anger simmering rapidly.

“There is nothing to explain you made yourself quite clear.” Daring flinched at her clipped, cold voice yet still continued.

“You have to understand that I had to.” As soon as the words left his mouth Lizzie’s anger reached surface level. The fuck did he mean ‘he had to’?

“I know you did not just say that.” Her voice was but a growl as she now stood, her figure imposing on him.

“You know I had to Lizzie! They would get suspicious if I defended you.” She knew he was right but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

“The funny thing is- is that I felt like you enjoyed dating those things about me. You didn’t stop after the first comment or the second or-.”

“One comment wasn’t going to convince them and you know it.” The bite in Darings voice had Lizzie’s anger now tipping over the edge. She sick and tired of him making excuses for everything he did.

Even if ‘he had to’ say those nasty things about her, she didn’t understand why he was here making excuses for himself rather than apologizing.

It only made it seem that the only reason why he was even here was because he saw she was hurt by it. Lizzie doubted if he would even be here if he didn’t know she heard.

“You know what Daring I’m sick and tired of your- your attitude! You say I’m the entitled, snooty princess get here you are making excuses for yourself!” Daring went to interrupt but she threw him a glare.

“Maybe I wouldn’t be half as mad if you had apologized for what you said instead of making excuses because at the end of the day you could half done something to defend your girlfriend’s honor.”

As the words left her mouth Daring stood while taking slow steps towards her. He had a regretful expression on his handsome face, one nobody was used to seeing.

Lizzie let him take her hand in his own as he pulled her in. “I know. Lizzie you are right and from now on I promise to stop making g excuses for my actions and to defend you against any harmful actions.”

If only Daring Charming was better at keeping promises.

—————————

This is one of my favorite couples to write angst about idk it just works sooo well

Anyway was watching the Olympic ceremony thing and idk you guys I feel like they dragged it on for toooooo long but that’s just my opinion

Hope you enjoyed and have great dayy!!

[izunias-meme-hole]

2 days after being spoiled before buying the game and I can easily say I LOVE the approach Tears of The Kingdom took with Ganondorf

I knew he was still gonna be an evil ass bastard, but I thought he’d try and figure out how to break, or at least nullify, the Demise Curse somehow so he can not only handle things his own way, and not be bound by fate. I NEVER expected him to a reincarnation of himself that embraces the fact that he’s the literal second coming of Demise and be proud of that. Yet at the same time it fits so well into this new timeline. It’s like he’s a literal force of destiny and I love this approach.

I also didn’t think we’d ever get some Ocarina of Time level scheming from him since he’s most likely gonna be slowly regaining the strength while he was being dehydrated, but no. We got some lore about him in the form of memories, and we get to see him feign loyalty to the ancient Hylian King, just to get his hands on his queens sacred stone, which combined with his own magic, pretty much made him a true devil. Which brings me to my next point.

He’s thankfully still threatening and he still has a strong presence! I’ll find out HOW strong his presence is when I buy the game next week because Wind Waker Ganondorf was also great yet lacked a large presence, but I can thankfully say Ganondorf here is still a threat and has a strong presence, despite spending most of the main story in Hyrule Castle rehydrating.

Not only that, but there’s this line. (I may be reading to much into it)

This line pretty much sums up Ganondorf at his core, no matter the game he’s in. He’s a man, a CUNNING man, that was born into royalty who takes what he desires, destroys what doesn’t bend to his will, and seeks to reshape everything in Hyrule into an empire ruled by him. Back that up with Matt Mercer’s surprisingly fitting voice work, and I can say that this game did Ganondorf RIGHT!

Also…

Sayonara giant final form boar fight and hello Demon Dragon Ganon! Say what you will about this part of the fight, but this is a breath of fresh air after years of the boar. (I like the boar forms too, but only OOT and Hyrule Warriors made it work well)

The only problems I spot so far with this incarnation is that it’s not that revolutionary because Hyrule Warriors (The original) did something similar with their Ganondorf, and the fact that nothing really tops Ocarina of Time’s Ganondorf. Still I will give TOTK credit for actually making a Ganondorf like this canon, and making what might be the second best Ganondorf outting in the entire mainline series and possibly even surpassing Hyrule Warrior’s take on Ganondorf.  If this sounds like fanboying, I apologize because I love how well Ganondorf was handled here and I cannot wait to actually buy the game and experience taking on this bastard like a true gamer.

[idontplaytrack]

Stronger

Janis ‘Imi’ike x fem! reader

Warnings: child loss, coarse language, depression, anxiety

Continuation to ‘Distress’.

(Pictures used above are from Pinterest)

Leaving Janis' hospital room, you were met with Regina again. And Damian. "I have to go meet up with another doctor to settle everything else. You guys don't have to wait for me."

"Wait? We're coming with you." Damian says.

"You don't have to say anything, just know we're here if you need anything." You made your way to a certain doctor's office that Janis' doctor told you to head to. There, your first decision to make was whether or not to wait till Janis had woken so she could see the baby and say goodbye. "Her doctor says she's just out of it from anaesthesia right now. She'll be awake before you know it. We don't have to rush the process, y/n. There's no fixed timeline on all this.”

"Sarah, is there anything I can do right now? I have to fill in a certificate, right?"

"Yes, I will go get that." She nodded solemnly.

When she came back, she hands you a piece of paper and a pen. "The team is preparing a memory box for your daughter in the meantime. It will be given to you and Janis once it's ready."

"Okay." You sniffed, clicking the pen.

“Take your time. I’ll be right here if you have any questions.” Sarah says. Nodding, you looked at the first blank. Name.

You and Janis talked about this all night long one night. It was decided. Her first name was, but her middle name was still all up in the air.

‘MALIA’ You wrote. Swallowing your tears, you tried to recall yours and Janis’ options for her middle name.

You stared at the barely-filled certificate for a while before you finally made a decision: Hōkūlani.

Beloved, heavenly star. It seemed like a perfect fit to you and you knew Janis would agree. You knew how important it was to her for names to be meaningful and carrying on her culture.

You filled in all the information you knew and gave it back to Sarah. “Thanks.” She smiled, keeping the sheet on paper into a file. “When Janis wakes up, her team will walk you two through what to expect during recovery from the c-section. A different team, specialising in grief will also be connecting with the two of you to help you both during this time in any way you may need.”

“Alright, thank you.”

“No problem. y/n, if you wish to see your daughter first, you may head up to level 13- room C708.”

Once again, Damian and Regina were waiting for you in the waiting room. You were having a debate with yourself about whether or not to see Malia before Janis did. “Paperwork’s done.” You told them quietly.

“Now you need to eat. Janis would kill us if she found out you hadn’t eaten anything nearly all day.”

“Fine.” You took some deep breaths to calm yourself down, “Can you guys come with me afterwards, to go upstairs so I can see Malia?”

“Oh, you picked out a name already? I love it.” Damian put an arm around your shoulder, “Of course we will go with you.”

“Cady’s taking us outside of the hospital for something to eat. The food here is atrocious.” Regina checked her phone, “We will be back right after we eat. You need some fresh air.”

While you nibbled on your burger, Regina took a picture of you. “What are you doing?” You looked at her tiredly.

“Giving our friends proof that you’re fed.” Regina stated matter-of-factly.

“Her name’s Malia, you said?” Regina asks. Damian glares at her. “It’s fine, Damian.” You told him. “What does it mean?”

“Beloved.” You answered, “Janis has loved this name from the moment she heard it. Her middle name was between Jayne and Hōkūlani. I went with Hōkūlani because it was more meaningful and directly connected to Janis’ culture.”

“Heavenly star.” Regina reads off her phone, “Fuck, that is a beautiful name.”

“So beautiful.” Damian agrees.

“It almost feels too on the nose.” You sighed.

“And that’s okay.” Damian says, “You like it, you use it. It’s not up to anybody else but you and your wife.”

After dinner, and also a much, much needed break from the chaotic environment of the hospital, Cady drove you, Regina and Damian back. Janis was still drifting in and out, according to the nurse on nightshift. “y/n?” The nurse says, “I heard her say your name a few times but she never really opened her eyes. But given the time since the procedure, she will be fully awake soon. Her doctor ordered an anti-emetic to counter the side effect of the anaesthetic, but vomiting is still possible. So don’t worry if it does happen.”

————

Damian stepped inside the hospital room with you. At first, Regina wasn’t allowed to go in together but Janis’ doctor made an exception. “I’m back, my love.” You grab her hand again, informing her of your presence. You knew she could hear you, she was just groggy.

She squeezes your hand, her eyes slowly fluttered open. “Oh, God. Hi, baby.” You leaned closer, “Hi.”

Janis not laid down flat was definitely helpful because she almost immediately threw up. Her arm instinctively splinted her abdomen. Damian took care of the emesis bucket, Janis looked at you, then at Regina. “I know what happened. I was awake for most of it.” She admitted, “Our baby’s gone.” You caressed her cheek, trying not to cry while she was also tearing up. You carefully manoeuvred yourself so you could hug her without hurting her, “It’s okay.”

She nodded, but was sobbing into your shoulder. You rubbed her back in the meantime, letting her do what she needed to do. “It hurts. Everything hurts but I chose this- we’ll be fine. I promise.”

You pressed a kiss to her forehead, “Of course, my love. We’ll be okay, just let me take care of you right now, okay? Don’t worry about anything right now.”

“You named her?”

“I did.” You informed her, “Malia Hōkūlani ‘Imi’ike.”

She nodded, still in tears, “Thank you.”

“Why-”

“Everything. For staying strong and dealing with everything.” She swallowed thickly.

“We made a promise.” You squeezed her hand, “And I’m going to keep it till I die.”

She smiled slightly, “Me too.”

Damian, Regina and Cady left after a short while, leaving you alone with Janis. “Go to sleep.” She tells you. “I know you- you have been up all day. It’s 3am.”

“I know, I just—” You sigh. “I got to see her for a minute. She’s perfect— looks exactly like you.”

“Get some rest.” Janis nodded, “Please. You’ve been up for too long.”

“I will in a minute.” You couldn’t help it- a few tears fell anyway, no matter how hard you tried to hold them back.

“Good. I- need to pee. Can you—”

They already had her get up to walk earlier and she was in agony, saying that it felt like her insides were falling all the way down. You just carried her to the bathroom to give her a break. “Thank you.” She looked at you while she did her business, “Oh, jesus.” In her groggy state, she got a bigger than expected shock from the blood and fluids that were on the literal diaper they put on her.

“You’re okay, that- they told me some of it was normal.”

Both of you knew what happened, there was no denying it. But it was clear that Janis knew exactly what she was expecting in this situation. She was mentally prepared, having had that specific conversation with you on who to save. But of course, still sad. It was loss of her flesh and blood. A life that she’s carried and nurtured for 39 weeks- nearly ten months.

“Do you still feel nauseous, Jan?” You asked when you helped her back to her bed. As if on cue, the same nurse came in to check her vitals and surgery site. “How’s the nausea?”

“Bad, but not horrible.” Janis answered flatly, “The incision feels worse than the nausea.”

“I’ll administer another dose of the pain meds for you right after this. And the antiemetic.” The nurse— Carla, said. “Any pain anywhere else that I should know about? Chest? Legs?”

“No, I feel fine otherwise.” Janis told her, “Hey, is- is it okay if I see my daughter before I go back to sleep?”

“Absolutely.” Carla smiled, “I can ask them to bring her down for you.”

Janis dozed off briefly during the wait, but woke up once the nurse walked back in about ten minutes later. Carla stayed to assist if needed, handing Malia over to Janis cautiously. “Hi, Malia.” Janis stroked her cheek with her pinkie, “You’re so perfect and precious, baby. I’m sorry you can’t get to see the world right now. I’m sorry our time together was so short. I love you, so does your Mommy.”

Malia was not tiny, she was a fully grown newborn. Just asleep forever. Watching Janis hold Malia, the way she looked at her so adoringly melted your heart as much as it felt like someone was stabbing and twisting a knife into it. “Rest well, sweetheart.”

You held her for a bit after Janis hands her over to you. “Oh, I love you so much, cutie. Mommy loves you so much.” You sniffed, swallowing the painful lump in your throat. Slowly, you gave her back to Carla, allowing Janis to finally get her rest. You too, finally at ease for the first time in hours and hours. Right beside Janis— they let you sleep in her bed with her.

Janis slept soundly thanks to the anaesthesia, you on the other hand, were woken up every time the nurse came in to check her vitals. “I’m sorry, I know you’re tired— I didn’t mean to wake you. But I have to check.”

“It’s okay, I know you need to do that.” You assured, eyes barely open. You took a peek at Janis before drifting off to sleep once more.

In the morning, after the doctor’s done her rounds, Janis could finally eat. “My doctor told me Regina gave me her blood?”

“She was the only one with your blood type.” You confirmed.

“That’s crazy.” Janis says, taking a gulp of the orange juice.

After the 72 hours, Janis was allowed to go home. Damian came by to help you with her since you had some things to carry. “Babe. Do you think we should cremate or bury?”

“Uh- we can take our time—”

“I know, I just feel that we shouldn’t delay it and make us keep dwelling on it.”

“I get that.” You nodded. She was right. After a short discussion, a cremation was decided. Then, scheduled. Both of you agreed that this way, you could have her with you- at home. Where she’s supposed to be. Not at a burial site.

“Me and Tyler made y’all some frozen meals to make things a little easier. Okay? There are twelve. We will make more and bring them by.” Damian spoke up after awhile.

“Thank you, Damian. That’s so helpful.” You hugged him first and he returns the gesture.

“Least I could do.” He says, letting go of you, “Alright, I will leave you two alone now. Need anything, please let me know. I will come right over.” Damian gives Janis a hug too before he leaves, “I love you, please take it easy and don’t go lifting heavy shit.”

As he leaves, you watch. Then your gaze lands on Janis who was opening up the cover of the memory box— which consisted of: handprints, footprints, photos and a teddy bear with Malia’s heartbeat audio in it.

Janis asks to put those framed pieces up, and you helped her with it since she couldn’t move around as well right now. The hand prints and footprints went onto a wall in a corner of yours and Janis’ bedroom. Along with a photo of her. You help Janis into bed and left the teddy bear with her. She immediately cuddled with it as she slept. You stopped in your tracks seeing the room next to yours and Janis’- Malia’s nursery. You stepped inside, sitting down on the chair by the bay window, watching the sky and orange tree in your backyard. A butterfly catches your eye, it lands on the windowsill and stayed there while you admired it. And you, you have always been terrified of butterflies. But you couldn’t look away. You just couldn’t. You just had this feeling in your heart this was for you. You were not scared of this butterfly.

“If it’s you, fly to the window next to this one.” You said, not expecting anything. It started flying where you told it to fly. The bedroom window was left ajar to let the air in. The butterfly lingered for awhile and flew into the house gracefully. It lands on the dresser right by where Janis slept.

“We’ll be okay, Malia.” You whispered, taking in a deep breath, watching the butterfly leave.

��———

A week later, cremation was carried out and you and Janis were at dinner with the gang afterwards— sitting in the backyard under the stars. It was a much needed gathering which Janis greatly appreciated. “Regina.” Janis got her alone, “Thank you. I’ll never forget it.”

“My decision wasn’t hard to make.” She says, “y/n made the toughest one of all. But I just did what a friend would do.” Janis willingly gives her a hug, a quick one, but — a hug. “I’m glad you’re still with us.”

“Hey, I’m a fighter.” Janis smirked.

“Fuck yeah you are.” Regina agrees. “Okay, enough of the sappy things. Go have fun, eat some snacks. You deserve all the fucking snacks you want.”

Janis sits down beside you, you took her hand into your own as you laid your head on hers. “You see that butterfly?”

“Yeah.” Janis nods.

“It’s been hanging around since we got back from the hospital.”

Janis seems to catch your drift, “I’ve been seeing it a lot. Made me think that it’s Malia, trying to tell us she’s always going to be here with us no matter what.”

“I think so too.” You sigh quietly, “I saw it in the nursery window. I told it to fly to our room’s window if it was Malia. It flew there and into our room. The butterfly stayed on the dresser.”

Janis presses a kiss to the side of your head, “I love you. Thank you for being so strong for me when I couldn’t.”

You snuggled closer to her. Keeping a close eye on the butterfly hanging around you all. It does it again, flying towards you — and Janis this time. It lands on your knee, “I’m not afraid of this one. Maybe that’s why I know.”

“She loves you.” Janis says, “I love you. Please never forget that. You made a very hard choice, that I chose. And I can never thank you enough for that- giving me a second chance at life. No matter what, we have each other. And as we know, she’ll always be right here with us- stronger than ever.”

[jolalibrary]

to think i’d forgotten

joel miller x f!reader

summary: his jaw is clenched, eyes digging in now—embedding into your muscles and bone to get you to move. he could speak, whisper or even shout, but he preferred this way. allowed the silent torture he could smother you in, to choke you first. 

warnings: angst. sadness. reader going back to a place she knew. jo-level-angst. wc: 2k. an: i know, i know. i said i wouldn't write for him and here we are. but angst is all i have and this was too fitting not to try. sue me.

It seeps into your nose, the smell of decay, rot and devastation.

Bludgeons over the scent of flowery soap, a bitter reminder that nice things—such as hot showers and cleanliness are more than a luxury. 

He’s staring. All gruff and piercing ink-filled eyes. Raking them over you, silently questioning why it is you’ve stopped. Why you’re frozen, lost—entering a dissociated state as memories peck the skin from your skeleton. 

The end of his gun nudges you, forcing you forward—almost stumbling as water ripples around your jeans. 

You want to move. Flee. Run up the once-marble staircase and get through to the building across. 

There’s nothing more important to you than following the plan. Than getting through the building, getting high enough to see through the vegetation and foliage that disguise all the death and disintegration.

But, you hadn’t expected this. 

Hadn’t prepared yourself enough for the fresh hell you’d entered. Hadn’t considered that the place in your dreams had become a waking nightmare. 

Lips parting, you hope to explain—the words spreading like vines across your tongue. Twisting, creating a mass at the back of your throat that makes it hard to breathe.

And then you remembered who you were with. 

Joel wouldn’t understand. 

He wouldn’t care that this was once a place you frequented before the world turned upside down. When plants only grew from the ground, and not from leaking roofs, and crumbling plaster. That this place had been somewhere you found comfort in.

Now it terrified you. 

It creaked and whined. It protesting the two of you being here—as if it wants to recoil from more eyes seeing its ugliness. The building groans again, this time dripping—whatever is tinges the air—into the watery depths you’re both standing in.

But, Joel is silent. 

A deep scowl now etched itself into his face. He basks you in thick, unbearable quietness—his speciality. 

You try to swallow, feeling invisible hands on your neck. The corners of your eyes blotting, remembering, and remembering—

There used to be muffled laughter. The turning of pages. Sometimes, there were even loud whispers and louder shh’s. You could recall how they echoed—how they bounced—around the once pretty, ornate ceiling and the bright cream-coloured walls. 

Now, the shelves were half sunk in water—all the words and stories they held dear washed away by the end of days. The ceiling was now shrouded in darkness and dinge, the walls less cream and murkier yellow and brown. 

It’s different, seeing ruination having taken a safe place. A place, in your head, that had remained intact, hoping it would be safe. 

Now, that fantasy has turned to dust. It crumbles between your fingertips—the same ones which clutch the gun. The one you’re holding just in case you’re not the only two here.

The same gun he’d taught you’d to use. 

The one he’d placed in your grip, his breath on your neck and his hand firmly on your hip.  

Nice ‘nd steady, darlin’.

He had said it mockingly then. Having learnt earlier that day what his voice did to you. His Texas drawl slipped like honey into your ear. Making your cheeks warm and your lips twitch. 

When Joel took out a brick from his wall, he was nice to be around. He could be snarky, funny. Less closed off and difficult. Sometimes, in the brief moments that flitter in—close to the rarity of a perfect day—Joel was someone you think you could tell about a place like this. 

Ramble about how the last time you were here was before it all happened. Your library card, now at the bottom of the backpack on your back, had been full of overdues. Not because you didn’t read, but because you didn’t want to part with the stories—reading them so much the edges began to dye from sitting out in the sun.

Today, Joel wasn’t that person. 

He wouldn’t care for memory lanes or simpler times. 

His jaw is clenched, eyes digging in now—embedding into your muscles and bone to get you to move. He could speak, whisper or even shout, but he preferred this way. Allowed the silent torture he could smother you in, to choke you first. 

He saved your name for necessities. 

As if there was a limited supply—in the same way, there were bullets. 

He hadn’t been the same with Tess. Her name he said so often, let it roll around any room the lot of you stood in. He’d shouted it, hurtled it, spat it and whispered it. Joel had said it until the two of them fought, a lover's quarrel from what you could hear. One which was full of raised, muffled voices that you tried to drown out from your side of the wall next to his place. 

They’d made a lot of noise, but none like this. None which shook the foundation of your small group. Then she was gone—in a slam and a hammering of boots. 

A two plus you, becoming just you and Joel overnight.

And he never said her name again. 

It took months until you put the pieces together. The puzzle not even needing to be complete when it began to stare you in the face. His confirmation of it came in a heated kiss. One which stole all your thoughts, words and oxygen as your fingers ran through his greying brown hair. 

Joel didn’t say your name then. 

Didn’t need to—you knew he was talking only to you. 

He barely said it when he parted your thighs or when he sunk himself to the hilt; didn’t let it escape when he pinned you to the wall, mattress or ground, running his tongue over places that made you whimper. Those times he called you darlin’. 

Let it roll from his tongue—almost convincing you, as he made you see stars, that it could be your name.

Your name, though, Joel says it when he had nothing left in his arsenal. When all else had been rendered useless. 

It’s why it surprised you that he whispered it—let it breathe amongst the walls of a place where it had once been shouted by friends. 

It sounded different. 

Something winding inside of you, twisting and turning until you feel the last shred of your old life snap. 

It’s loud—or it is in your head. It vibrates something through your soul, shattering an array of memories that were once a comfort. 

All you let escape—all you let kiss the air—is a breath-filled gasp. A single one. More breath than noise, but it’s loud. 

Loud in the stillness. In the calm. 

It makes tears sting your eyes. It allows the mask you force up to shatter somewhere around the tops of your boots. Your body emptying, devoiding itself of dreams and hope and the life before.

It must worry him. 

So much so, his hand wraps around your elbow. It’s tight, his hold. Pinning you with him, keeping you grounded—reminding you of his presence. As if you could forget him. 

As if he’d allow you to. 

“Need t’keep moving.”

You know that. Know that more than him. 

“One foot, then the other, you hearin’ me?”

You turn, meeting his gaze. 

How it’s slightly softer. There’s still a sharpness at the edges, but there’s also a hint of warmth, a gentler expression.

He’s being nice. Joel-nice. But still… nice.

It takes a second, one which thrums and shifts—bleeding quickly into another and then another, before you nod. Swallowing, you silence the past and the memories. You try to ignore how it beckons for you, the darkness—the one simmering at the edges of your mind. How it urges you to sink under the water and swim with your sadness—all siren-like and devilish. 

The grip it has, though, loosens as Joel moves you with him. His hand remains around your elbow—not supporting, but guiding. 

Not letting go until you’ve both trudged through rainwater and water-shredded pages. Doesn’t loosen his hold until your boots are squelching on the floor above, the windows letting the thinnest cracks of sunlight peer through the thick vines, the ones that smother the building. 

When he does, he lets go one by one. 

Thumb first, index next, followed by the rest until it’s phantom. Until you can feel his warmth, but know it’s in your head. 

You take a step away, needing distance—craving it. 

Feeling the crackles of thunder from beside you, how it darts through him, ready to hit. 

“Y’wanna explain what the—“

“No.”

It comes out blunt, and sharp. 

Your one word has edges, ones you don’t expect—never mind him. 

You don’t talk to him like that. Not frequently. You’re calmer, devious—plotting and clever. He’s action. He rips and he shreds, and yet you are someone who quietly waits until you can launch—and attack. 

Which is why the air thrums. Snapping isn’t you. 

Something he must also be processing. His silence damning, tension rolling from him in heavy waves.  

You try not to focus on him. Fixing your eyes, pinning them down, on a desk as you head to it. 

"I don't wanna explain, or talk, or argue. Alright? Just, gimme a minute."

It’s hard not to notice how the desk is shrouded in dust. Leaning on it, fingers leaving prints—a mark. It taking a while to register the feeling of wood under your fingertips.

Your thumb slides, discovering chestnut brown and you feel a sharp tug, a twinge. A thought slams into you, suddenly wondering if underneath the wood your initials are on it. Carved with the tip of a knife that was never yours, placed inside a heart, with other initials that belong to someone who likely isn’t alive now. 

“Now, wait a goddamn min—“

You shoot him a look. One as dark as he often fires at you, one laced with both pleading and poison. 

“Joel. Just for once—please.” 

And he does. Only shoving a disgruntled sigh your way. Shifting his gun from his shoulder, the sound of the strap sliding from his jacket echoes in the quiet, before it’s followed by boots. Ones which squelch—likely leaving the same watery stains as you until he’s beside you. 

You feel it, the heat of his body. 

The familiar aura he has—the same one which tells you when he’s close. When he’s waiting in the dark when you’ve told him you would be fine—that you can handle yourself. 

On another day, it would bring you comfort, him being here. You’d allow it to wrap itself around you, finding solace in it in the centre of a once-familiar place. 

It doesn’t. 

If anything, it puts your teeth on edge. The contrast and merging—old life meeting new— makes your spine tense, all ready to crack and crumble. 

“You knew this place.” 

Digging your teeth into your cheek, you don’t stop until you taste iron. Until it floods your mouth, settles between your gums and coats your teeth. 

Then you close your eyes, not wanting to let anything fall down your cheek. Instead, you let tears mould your bottom and top lashes together, simmering on the edge of your lash line—threatening to spill. 

You hold on through grit and determination as you nod, short and sharp. An answer, but not permission to continue. 

Because it’s four words, yes. Four simple words, and they have become your undoing. His acknowledgement is a further arrow to your shield. 

An acknowledgement that he can read you too—cares enough to do so, even if he acts like despises you. 

“We can stay a minute.”

“No, it’s—“

“We’ll stay a minute.” 

He leaves little room to argue, to protest. 

So you nod. Opening your eyes, temporarily seeing the flashes of forgotten people bent over books and giggling teenagers huddled in corners. Each blink makes the ghosts of the past slide from view. Curling your nails against the wood, you grow desperate for splinters to sink into your pads. Something to stick, bury itself in you. To make what’s left of this place become a part of you.

A place where you’d hoped for more for your future. A nice house, a family, a husband— 

And then you feel him.

One hand. Placed on the lowest part of your back. His fingers slowly spread out, one by one. Then he stills, having given you all he can. 

Turning your head, you let your eyes meet his, swallowing back a new lump that has formed as you tell yourself you have enough. This is enough. 

He’s enough. A spot of light in a sea of darkness and horrors. 

A fixture you hope is permanent, even if hoping now doesn't get you far.

[makethatelevenrings]

Angel By the Wing - Seventeen

Chapter Warnings: discussion of abortion (if ur not pro choice idc lmao fuck off!!), pregnancy

Series Masterlist

To your credit, you waited until the sun came up before you pulled yourself out of the catatonic state you found yourself in after the revelation of your predicament. You had never actually taken a shower the night before so you took the time now to stand under the hot water and let the stench of the bar wash off your skin.

Robotically, you dried yourself off with a towel that smelled of Jake and fucking hell, were you crying? Grabbing Bradley’s old UVA shirt, you tugged it over your head and threw on some clean underwear and soft athletic shorts. Turning in the mirror, you lifted the hem of the shirt and studied your stomach. Were you really pregnant? Or was this just some bloating? There wasn’t a bump, but you certainly noticed a small change.

As you shoveled Cheerios into your mouth, you pointedly ignored the waffle maker seated on the counter. This was pathetic. You needed to get a level head and compartmentalize. Make a to-do list. Figure out what the hell you needed to do. Didn’t you need to get your implant removed? Oh god, what if you were already fucking up your baby and you didn’t even know how old they were. You thought back on the numerous times you had slept with Jake and Bradley over the past month. Fuck, you didn’t even know the father.

You needed help. For once, you were going to concede defeat and admit that you didn’t know what the fuck to do. Sofia was out. She had less of an idea about babies than you did. Sarah…you couldn’t bother her right now. Not when she was dealing with grief.

But you did know a kick ass mother who would already be awake thanks to growing up in a military household.

Grabbing your phone, you dashed off a quick text to Penny and then put your bowl in the sink with the intention of cleaning it later. Your phone buzzed with an incoming text and you sighed in relief at her invite to come over.

Which found you fifteen minutes later, standing on her front porch, and blubbering like a baby the second she pushed open her screen door.

“Did you get a call?” she asked, panic tinging her voice.

“No, no.” You knew who she was referencing. “No news from them. I…”

Her eyes darted down, spying the way your hand unconsciously rested on your lower stomach, and she gasped. Penny stepped back, hands grasping your shoulders, and she took you in.

“Oh, honey,” Penny cooed. “Come on, you need to sit down.”

She led you to the back porch that faced the waves and you appreciated the opportunity to take in the morning sun and fresh air. Penny reappeared with a mug of coffee for her and peppermint tea for you and you gratefully accepted the ceramic mug that was shaped like a cat.

“Amelia’s still asleep. Teenagers. She’ll be dead to the world until ten,” Penny chuckled. “How do you feel?”

That wasn’t the question you were expecting, honestly. You were waiting for a “what were you thinking” or “how can you be so stupid” or maybe even a “let’s talk about your severance”. Not this. Not genuine concern.

“Physically or mentally?” you croaked out. The peppermint tea helped soothe the roiling ball of nerves and nausea that was consuming your stomach and you clasped the mug in your hands, embracing the warmth through your skin.

“Let’s start with physically.”

You blew out a heavy breath and then chuckled humorlessly. “Like I’m going to yak any second.”

Penny nodded, her eyes crinkling at the edges as she smiled at your words. “Yeah, morning sickness is a bitch.”

“And I’m tired all of the time. I thought I was just bloated, but I guess not. Holy shit, Pen, I’m so scared.”

Her hand landed on your knee and she offered you a gentle squeeze as a physical display that you weren’t alone. You gazed out at the pink sky and inhaled deeply before continuing to speak.

“I never thought about having kids. Or, at least, I thought about what I would do. There’s a Planned Parenthood within an hours drive from here. It would be quick, right? And then it would all be over. I don’t have the money to support a kid and I couldn’t possibly work at the bar and breastfeed. I would be a terrible mother and just fuck the kid up. I can’t…”

“Listen, I’m not telling you that you can’t get an abortion. Hell, I would be the one driving you there and back. You always have the choice to make that decision for you and your body. But I want you to know that you would be a damn good mom, honey. I’ve seen the way you interact with Amelia and Sarah has mentioned how much the grandkids love you.” Penny reached out and poked your shoulder. “You are not your mother, kid. Don’t let her scare you from giving a life to some kid who would be so fucking lucky to have you as a mom.”

You sniffled and blinked back more tears. “I don’t even know who the father is or if they’re even coming home.”

Penny reached up to wipe some of your tears away and she smiled sadly. “Hangman or Rooster, right? The two of them can barely take their eyes off you. You have them wrapped around your finger.”

“I didn’t plan on it!” The outcry sounded hilarious coming from your thick, tear-filled voice. “They’re just so…ugh!”

“Naval aviators,” Penny hummed. “I told you they’re trouble.”

You groaned and placed your mug down so you could cover your face with your hands. Penny chuckled and raised her own cup to her lips. Once you lowered your hands and stared back at the ocean did you continue to speak.

“I just want them home.” You hated how small your voice was. “I don’t understand why I feel this way. It’s all too much, too fast.”

“Is it? Or are you just scared of feeling safe?”

You blinked in surprise and stared at her. She merely sipped her coffee and leaned back in her chair. You considered her words for the moment. Jake was supposed to be just a way to get some energy out, but now you found yourself craving his presence as more than just a sex buddy. Bradley had been a one time thing and then his charming smile and laughter kept you wanting to be near him more. But that wasn’t love. Or at least, you figured it wasn’t love in comparison to the cheesy romance films and books you’ve consumed.

But thinking about them and the possibility of them not coming home and then thinking about the possibility that you might be holding a piece of one of them inside of you made you come to a tentative decision for now.

“I should call my doctor and ask if I can make an appointment to get my implant removed,” you finally said. “And then I’m going to wait until they get back. Not because I want them to choose because that’s my choice, but because I want them to know.”

“Okay. Call them and stay for the day. We can go to the beach or go shopping. Whatever you choose, hon, Amelia and I are here for you no matter what.”

The doctor had an opening at one so you spent the morning watching reality shows with Penny until Amelia woke up and then the three of you headed over to the area where your OBGYN was located. Penny and Amelia would stick around and shop at a few local boutiques while you got your implant removed and also did a blood test and urine sample to confirm.

When you walked out of the office an hour later with a stack of papers and pamphlets in hand and a compression bandage wrapped around your bicep, there was no denying it. You were four weeks pregnant.

“Holy shit!” Amelia exclaimed when you held up the paper to her and Penny. Her mom didn’t even bother to correct her and instead took the results from you and studied them. She nodded and jerked her head in the direction of the car.

“Well, time to get you some vitamins and a few other things that will help.”

The Benjamin women offered to let you sleep over that night, but you missed the soft pillows and smell of Jake in his apartment. For a moment, you regretted wearing Bradley’s shirt out today but it also felt a bit like a protective barrier between you and the world. Even without a noticeable bump, you still felt as if everyone in the world could tell just by one look at you.

So you curled up on the couch at Jake’s with all the pamphlets about your options now and plans for the future. The TV played in a low drone as you thumbed through the various piles of information like prenatal vitamins, what you can and can’t eat, and the changes your body would go through. As you read more, you became more and more uncertain. Could you do this? Should you do this?

You glanced up at the TV and a small smile fluttered across your lips at the sight of what was playing on screen. Titanic. You remembered the night on the couch, sandwiched between your boys as this movie played. The love story turned heartbreak stung at your chest and you found yourself reaching for the remote when your phone rang. Diverting your grasp, you saw it was an unknown number but decided to answer, figuring it might be a telemarketer you could fuck with.

“Angel?” the voice on the other line asked. Your breath caught in your lungs and you nearly burst into a sob right then and there.

“Tex?” What if this was just some cruel prank?

“Yeah, darlin’, it’s me. I’m just calling to let you know that we’re okay.”

You bit your lip and released a shaky breath. “All of you?”

Jake laughed over the line. “Here, let me prove it.” Shuffling came over the line and then a new voice spoke.

“Hey, angel,” Bradley exhaled your nickname as if he was evoking a prayer. A brilliant smile spread across your face and you relaxed against the cushions.

“Hi, bear. You sound tired.”

“Yeah, well, Hangman snores.” An indignant cry sounded from behind Bradley and you laughed. They were fine. They were safe.

“You’re all okay?”

“Every last one of us. We’re coming home, angel. I can’t tell you exactly when but we’ll be back soon.”

You glanced at the scattered pages of information spread around you and then settled your hand on your stomach. “I’m holding you to that.”

“Of course, Angel. We’ll see you soon.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

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[todorokis-girl]

You left me stranded and I wanna fall in love again - Atsumu Miya x f!reader (pt 1)

masterlist

Finding unexpected friendship and healing after heartbreak with a volleyball team

I sat outside of my wedding venue, in my wedding dress, tear-stained cheeks and a blank stare. The weight of the day bore down on my shoulders, leaving me in an emotional whirlwind. As she battled with her thoughts, a kind voice broke through the haze, pulling her back to the present.

"Are you okay?"

When I turned, my eyes squinted slightly as the sun momentarily blinded me. As my eyes adjusted, the figure before me came into focus. Bleached hair, (don’t think it’s been toned), and a worried smile. 

I could understand why, I am sitting in a wedding dress, and I have makeup running down my face in front of a beautiful venue…If it wasn’t crazy, it’d be depressing. 

"My fiancé, well, ex-fiancé, left me at the altar; and his family didn’t even bother showing up," she said, my voice wavering with the raw edge of fresh pain. It hasn’t even been two hours since it happened. 

Atsumu’s eyes widened in shock and sympathy, a stark contrast to his usual cocky expression. He crouched down to her level, his gaze softening. “Sounds like a lovely family,” he said, his voice filled with genuine concern.

“What happened to your family?” I just looked up at him, empty behind my eyes fresh new tears threatening to fall down my eyes again “I got disowned, for being with him; they weren’t…” his eyes widened, and he started to comfort me, sitting next to me and rubbing my bad carefully. Taking a deep breath, I let the reality of the situation sinking in further. “I don’t know what to do now,” The admitting made me dizzy, feeling more lost with each passing moment.

Atsumu’s brow furrowed in thought before he offered a small, comforting smile. “I know it doesn’t fix things, but there’s a bar along the corner here, my friends are waiting for me. We could go there, so you can vent to strangers? Or if you’d rather be alone, I can just sit here with you. Sometimes it helps just having someone nearby.”

His words were simple, yet they carried a warmth that began to melt the ice around her heart. Y/N nodded slowly, grateful for the unexpected kindness. “Strangers sounds nice…” I whispered, feeling a flicker of hope amidst the wreckage of her dreams. The idea of venting to strangers that had no connection to me or my ex lightened me slightly. I could get genuine unbiased advice! (also, maybe make some friends that are not his). 

Atsumu extended his hand, a gesture of support and friendship. As I took it, she couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of something she hadn’t expected to find today: the beginning of healing, and perhaps, new connections in the unlikeliest of places.

“Atsumu” 

“Y/N, pleasure”

Atsumu guided me across the street, his presence a comforting anchor in the sea of my turmoil. The bar was warm and inviting, the aesthetic of the space like any classic rustic bar. I liked it already. As we walked in, the chatter and laughter of strangers filled the air, creating a background hum that seemed to absorb some of my sorrow.

Atsumu’s friends greeted him with a mix of surprise and curiosity when they saw me. “Hey, guys, this is Y/N” he introduced me, his tone both casual and caring.

“She’s wearing a wedding dress” A man with salt peperryhair pointed out the obvious, deadpanned and almost confused, and I just nodded not knowing how to reply “She was crying” He continued and I nooded again a bit more enthusiastic. Atsumu turned to me as if waiting for something.

“Did you ruin someone’s wedding?!” I turned to look at a further corner of the booth and saw a man with a mask and curly black hair, almost glaring holes into Atsumu.

“No, no, Kiyoomi,” Atsumu replied with a sigh, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s more complicated than that.”

A man with short, dark hair and a mischievous grin chimed in, “Did you catch the bouquet and then just decide to keep the whole outfit?”

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. “No, I’m the bride... well, I was supposed to be anyway”

“Seems like an interesting story,” said the salt-and-pepper guy. “I’m Osamu, by the way. If you want to get back at him, I make a mean poisoned meatball sub.” I looked at his face more carefully noticing that he looked exactly like Atsumu. Twins. Cute. 

I laughed harder, feeling some of the tension release. “I’ll keep that in mind, but,” I look aroynd the table and smile “Not to disapoint, Atsumu is actually helping me. He found me like this” 

“Abandoned, like a lost puppy in the side of the road,” I smile up at him as he handed me a funny looking cup with an umbrella and a slice of orange cup of a bright green liquid. The smell of sugary melon coating the inside of my nose “I don’t know what you drink, but I know what gets people over a break up” 

“Girly drinks” They all said in unison, causing me to laughing. I had only been here for a couple of minutes and I was already feeling at ease. The complete oposite of the atmosphere around my every day interactions with my friends. 

Painful… yet, revealing. 

“So tell us the story” Osamu prompted, leaning forward with genuine interest written on his face.

Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself. "It's not a long story, but it feels like a lifetime packed into a few hours. We were supposed to get married today," I began, my voice catching slightly as I recounted the painful memories. "But he left me at the altar. And his family didn't bother showing up."

There was a collective intake of breath around the table, mingled with sympathetic murmurs. Kiyoomi's stern expression softened, his curiosity turning into empathy. "That's… awful," he finally managed to say, his voice quieter than usual.

"Atsumu found me sitting outside the venue, a mess in front of my to be wedding venue," I continued, a wry smile forming at the absurdity of it all. "He offered to bring me here, so I wouldn't have to do it alone."

"He's good like that," Osamu remarked with a nod towards Atsumu, who grinned modestly at the praise.

"It’s a lot to do for a stranger, so I’m grateful,” I took a deep breath “So, here I am," I concluded, feeling surprisingly lighter after sharing my burden with these newfound companions. "Trying to figure out what comes next."

The atmosphere at the table shifted from curiosity to camaraderie, each of Atsumu's friends offering words of support and gestures of friendship. As they listened, I found myself opening up in ways I hadn't anticipated, finding solace in their genuine concern and the warmth of their acceptance.

"And what about you guys?" I asked, wanting to shift the focus away from my own heartache. "What's your story?"

The question sparked a round of laughter and teasing among them, but beneath the banter, I sensed a shared understanding that life's twists and turns could lead anyone to unexpected places — even a bar with a heartbroken bride in a wedding dress.

As the evening unfolded, amidst the laughter and the clinking of glasses, I realized that while my heart was wounded, it was also beginning to heal, surrounded by these new friends who had welcomed me into their circle with open arms.

And in that moment, I knew that despite the pain of today, there was hope for tomorrow.