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saistappen · 5 months ago

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First vacation together | MV1

In which Max and you spend your first vacation together

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THE FIRST vacation together should be the one you remember forever.

The one you look back on with a smile and start to feel the butterflies coming up.

The vacation that you take loads of cheesy pictures of and stick them in a photo album to look back on years later.

Max and your first vacation together took you to St Tropez. Not too far from Monaco, your short vacation together should provide a few relaxing days, as Max is still in the middle of the Formula 1 season.

The Dutchman wants to spend the week's break he has before the Spanish Grand Prix with you on the beach, lying lazily on a lounger together and looking out over the water.

It should be the perfect getaway, where it's just the two of you and Max can spend a few days with his girlfriend to recharge his batteries for the next weekend.

"Are you ready for the beach? " Smiling, you lean your back against the wooden door frame and watch your friend apply the last of the sun cream to his skin.

Since the Dutchman, unlike you, has really pale skin, you've literally forced him to slather himself with sun cream so that he doesn't look like a crab at the end of the day.

" I just have to pack my towel. "

Max rubs the last of the white sticky cream on his arm before washing his hands.

"Nope, I've already done that, " you reply with a grin and pick up the light blue beach bag to show him once again that you've already thought of everything.

"You're in a hurry to get to the beach, huh? " he adds as he turns around and walks towards you. He stops in front of you and presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

"Oh, yes. But I don't think you can blame me, can you? After all, I only have a few intense days with my boyfriend where he's just mine until I have to share him again. "

The smile that creeps onto your lips only remains firm with difficulty. Because it's anything but easy to see your boyfriend so rarely.

Of course, you had already realized during your dating days that it wouldn't be easy to date a racing driver who flew around the world more than he was at home.

On the odd weekend, you were there live from time to time to support him on site. But your job as a florist didn't always allow for this, as you had to work every now and then, even at the weekend, when Max was sitting in his car and literally flying around the track.

But the rest of the days when you sleep alone in your bed in the apartment in Monaco, you miss your boyfriend especially.

Waking up or having breakfast together only comes into question on days off or during the summer and winter break, as well as a few other things that are standard for other couples.

But you enjoy these things, which are normal for other couples, even more intensely. And even the anticipation of embracing his partner again is twice as great.

" I can't blame you, no. Because I feel the same way," smiles the Dutchman, taking the beach bag from you and casually swinging it over his shoulder, his free right hand reaching for yours to intertwine your fingers.

And so you leave the bungalow hand in hand, which has a small pool and you can see the sea from afar, so you only have to walk twenty meters through the white sand to reach the beach.

If someone were to ask you what paradise is for you, you would probably answer 'This'.

While the waves crash softly in the background and every now and then a small wave gently laps against the shore, you make yourself comfortable on one of the deckchairs.

Your hands keep running through the thick hair of the Dutchman, who has laid his head in your lap and is dozing lightly.

You can still see the odd drop of water on his bare chest that the sun hasn't yet managed to dry.

After your short swim in the cool water - where you've frolicked more than anything else - you've been drawn back to the sun lounger, where you're now enjoying each other's company in the shade.

The beach is quite crowded, so the sound of children's laughter or the babble of voices carries over to you, but it doesn't bother you in the slightest.

"Hmm, this is so great," Max mumbles with his eyes closed in pleasure as your hand runs through his hair again and again.

The sun's rays have caused countless blonde strands to form in Max's hair, making it partially shiny in the sun.

His bare skin has also become a little more colorful, so you're sure he'll notice the difference in the next few days.

"I think so, but don't you dare fall asleep," you smile as your hand begins to run through his hair a little more slowly.

Some of the brunette strands are already sticking up on his head and you are sure that Max's hair will be a complete mess when you take your hand out of it.

"I won't, I promise," he yawns as he crosses his arms in front of his chest and pulls his legs a little closer to curl up slightly.

As he lies there, he has almost assumed an embryo position, which looks really cute, so you have to stifle a quiet 'Aww'.

As your left hand continues to run through his hair and Max's eyes remain closed, you take the opportunity to reach for your cell phone and take a photo of him.

However, you forget that you haven't set your phone to silent and as you take a photo, your phone starts to betray you, causing the Dutchman to open his eyes and lift his head so that your hand slips out of his hair.

"Did you take a photo of me? " he asks with mock indignation as he slowly sits up and looks at you.

A soft giggle leaves your lips. Max's hair is sticking out wildly from his head in all directions, so you can't really take your friend seriously.

"What's so funny? " he adds with a furrowed brow. "Are you trying to distract from the topic? "

"No, but your hair...". you continue to giggle and open the selfie camera on your phone to show him his hair.

But before you can hold the phone in front of him, Max has already taken your phone from you with the words "Wait a minute" and thrown it carelessly onto the couch next to you.

Before you can react, Max jumps up from the lounger and shortly afterwards he has already thrown you over his shoulder, eliciting a not-so-quiet and startled shriek from you.

"Max what - ", you start, but are interrupted as the Dutchman begins to run zigzag through the sand with the words " Ah! Hot ", which elicits another giggle from you.

But when Max starts to run through the water instead of the sand a few meters later, the giggles literally get stuck in your throat because you know exactly what he's up to.

"Noooo! Max stop! " You literally shriek as you start to prick his back with your fingers in the hope that the Dutchman will stop.

But that doesn't seem to do any good, as Max runs deeper and deeper into the water, so that a short time later his hips are covered in water and you put your hands up in the air so that they don't get touched by the cool water.

"Put me down ", you whine sulkily as Max stops.

"Are you sure? ", he raked.

You nod. "Yes."

But that was a mistake. Max's arms loosen around your body and shortly afterwards you sink into the cool water so that your whole body is enveloped by the water and you suddenly feel weightless as your body sinks slightly.

Underwater, you open your eyes in shock for a few seconds and start to flail your arms in panic until you realize that you can swim.

As your feet touch the bottom, you push off slightly in the sand and start to row with your arms to get back to the surface, where your friend is standing there grinning and just looking at you.

"You'll get that back, Verstappen! " you growl slightly, but start to grin shortly afterwards as Max begins to run through the water - which doesn't turn out to be all that easy - so that he starts to swim shortly afterwards.

You quickly start moving too and use all your strength to swim a little faster to reach your friend.

However, a gap quickly forms between you, as Max is a lot faster than you. But that's no reason for you to give up.

" What's the matter? Are you giving up yet? " Max calls to you with a grin as he floats in the water and turns his head back over his shoulder.

This is clearly a mistake, because you use this moment to gather the last of your strength and swim over to him.

A few meters in front of him, you dive underwater and shortly afterwards pull on the Dutchman's feet so that he goes under too.

Laughing, you surface and swim over to the shore to escape from Max.

But once again you misjudge yourself, as the Dutchman has already surfaced again and his strong arms wrap around your hips shortly afterwards and pull you close to him.

"You think you can just run away, don't you? " he breathes into your ear, causing goose bumps to spread over your body.

" It.., it was worth a try," you stammer, slightly flustered, as Max begins to place feather-light kisses on your shoulder.

"I'm freaking you out, huh? " he breathes between the countless kisses that he spreads on your shoulder and slowly kisses his way up to your neck.

Unable to say anything, you just start nodding.

"Say it, " he breathes.

"Y-you're upsetting me. " The words leave your mouth in a stammer as you spin around and look into Max's blue eyes, which slowly begin to fill with lust.

A smile forms on his full lips as his hands move up to your hips, where they find their place and he pulls you a little closer to him, so that you wrap your legs around his hips and clearly begin to feel that this doesn't exactly leave him cold either.

"That was my goal, " he breathes against your lips before he places his lips on yours and begins to kiss you intensely.

During the kiss, which tastes like a hint of seawater and lust, your heart begins to leap in his chest.

Your hands move up into his wet hair, where they intertwine and your body presses a little closer to the Dutchman's, causing him to let out a small gasp.

"You're driving me so crazy," he mumbles against your lips as he pulls away from you slightly. " We should go back to the bungalow and continue there. "

"That's a good idea, " you breathe against his lips as you feel Max slowly fight his way through the waves to the shore and carry you over to the bungalow, almost running.

And neither of you care that your towels and a few of your valuables are still lying on the loungers.

As Max carries you over to the balcony door of the bungalow, your lips begin to spread light kisses on the soft skin of his neck, causing the Dutchman to gasp softly.

With his foot, he deftly opens the balcony door that you had left ajar and shortly afterwards pushes it shut again behind him, so that it closes with a slight thud.

But neither of you pays much attention to the sound.

Shortly afterwards, you find yourself on the bed, Max bent over you as he begins to spread countless kisses over your half-naked body.

And so you give yourself completely to your boyfriend to take your relationship one step further for the first time.

Exhausted and out of breath, you snuggle into Max's arms, which he wraps around you and pulls you as close to him as possible.

You carefully rest your head on his chest so that you can clearly hear his heart beating a little faster.

"That was..." Max starts the sentence out of breath.

"Unbelievable," you finish the sentence with a grin as you bury the tip of your nose in Max's chest, which smells of sweat, salt water and Max.

You couldn't have imagined your first time with Max any better. Because today was really perfect and much better than you had imagined.

"Just as incredible as you," the Dutchman breathes as he rests his head on yours and your eyes start to flutter sleepily.

But before you can say anything back, your eyes close and you fall into a happy but dreamless sleep.

#max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x y/n #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 #formula 1 #formula one imagine #max verstappen

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seuonji · 11 months ago

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彡 just wanted to see you. — choi seungcheol

๑ goody two shoes yn au!

notes ๑ student council president yn x delinquent svt bf !!! — somehow the perfect, rule abiding president started to become close to the token bad boy of the school. wonder how that’s going.

genre ๑ fluff!

warnings ๑ non

word count ๑ 0.6k

from aya: please reblog if you enjoyed! i plan to make more of these! let me know which members you want to see next<3

seungcheol was one of the common people you’d see walking into the student council room. as president, this was your least favourite case to handle.

you heard the door open and just as you were about you look up to see who it was, they spoke and as his voice lingered in your ear, you didn’t have to check anymore. “vice president mina sent me here, said that ‘yn will take care of you.’” choi seungcheol mocked the voice of the vice cheekily.

“let me guess, jumped over the fence again and got caught, again?” you monotonously stated, not even batting an eye at him. your eyes were too busy on paperwork to give mind to the boy who was playfully frolicking towards you.

“just like how we first met!”

it wasn’t how you first met, but it was your first interaction. cheol obviously knew you cause you were the president. you knew him by word running around the school about a cheeky brat that skipped classes and often jumped the fence to avoid detention or school activities he didn’t want to participate in.

“are you doing these things just to get sent here?” you tiredly sighed.

“anything to see my cute significant other,” he smirked as he leaned onto the side of your chair, patiently waiting for you to look at him.

and you finally did.

but he was met with tired eyes.

“shit, you okay yn?”

suddenly it all spilled out.

“cheol you can’t keep getting into trouble!”

you rarely used nicknames with him. you always used his government name despite the way he disliked it. he always had to remind you to try and use nicknames when you started dating but you never did. and now you were.

“i can’t keep defending you, literally. and what if one day they don’t send you to me but the actual disciplinary head? i don’t want you going through that!”

there was a vivid guilt in his eyes as you spoke and he slowly kneeled down to be below your level, “i’m sorry i didn’t know it was that serious. i’ll hold back.”

you turned from your seat to face him and held his arm to pull him upwards, “it’s okay just. yeah i i would appreciate it if you’d stop your antics. you’re great at football i don’t understand why you don’t enjoy going to practice.”

“you think i’m great?” he smirked once again making your hands form a fist which he got a peek off so he patted your head and pulled out the stool from under your desk that he installed himself in your room.

“so, how are you going to take care of me? braid my hair? sing a lullaby?” he slowly leaned towards you.

“just go to your practice dummy.”

“huh? no consequences of my actions?”

“want me to send you to the disciplinary head?”

“what do they do there?” he asked with a clear tone of curiosity as he placed his arms over your shoulders.

“i don’t know, community service? clean the toilets?”

“going to practice right now,” he stood up from his seat and dusted off his clothes which made you laugh a bit.

just as you adjusted yourself to return back to work, he gently held your face in his hand and his face coming closer to yours, he gave a peck on the lips leaving you quiet.

“see you,” he poked your cheek as he walked out.

you sighed once again and sat properly in your desk but found a piece of candy with a crumpled note by it saying, “i didn’t get into trouble, i just wanted to see you dear. take it easy, i love you.”

you’ve heard from almost everyone just how much of a cheeky and troublesome boy he was but they would only be able to hear from you how sweet he actually was.

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abominable-space-they · 2 months ago

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Agatha all Along theory

Spoilers through ep 5

Ok first we need the set up

In this magical retelling of The Wizard of Oz Jennifer is the tin man, bound to inaction, Lilia is thr cowardly lion always afraid of what might come to pass, and Alice is the scarecrow who thinks she has nothing to offer but does.

Agatha is Dorothy

It's heavily implied here that Teen is toto, though I think this is a misdirect.

Rio is the one she's known for ages, Rio protects her, Rio loves her, Rio is fearless, Rio gets her into shenanigans, Rio is pissed off at her mom & company who tried to hurt her, Rio literally licked her hand in the first episode

Rio is Toto

Now Wanda is definitely the wicked witch of the East, that makes Teen, Warlock, either the wicked witch of the West or Glenda the Good witch

And I'd argue for now, it's both. Teen is Glenda the Good Witch and Billy/Warlock is the wicked witch of the West secretly driving a lot of the action because of the death of his mother & family.

Ok so now episode five

This episode is poppy field incident in Wizard of Oz.

I had to go rewatch it, bc I haven't seen it since I was probably 8. So in that trial, The Wicked Witch of the West places a poppy field in their path, which would poison them with good feelings until they faded away.

Dorothy leads them into the field, it's beautiful, they're frolicking. Dorothy passes out, the tin man gets stuck again, the cowardly lion passes out out of fear, they all lay down in the poppies and almost drift away.

They realize something is wrong and scream for help, Glenda is super imposed over the screen casting magic to loosen the hold of the poppies enough that they can wake up and run away.

I think that the theories that this was all or partially a dream are gonna be right.

I also think Teen led them into that place and left the door open for the Salem seven (they're the flying monkeys after all) so he would have a way to coral them to this place

Maybe he originally wanted to punish Dorothy and leave her there, maybe he planned on siphoning his powers back while she was possessed by her mother or sleeping/high

Whatever it was, that didn't go as planned, he blames Agatha for fucking up his plan.

When Agatha says you're just like your mother it does inspire him, not to murder though, to wake them up.

My guess is the mud is a misdirect and he's using it to wake them up, because hell yeah he is just like his mother

But that means something different to him then Agatha. His mother bent the rules of space time to bring his father back to life. His mother went to any lengths to save the people she loved... Including becoming a villain in the eyes of some.

He asked Agatha to save Alice, she can't, he's furious because she was the one who caused all this in the first place, he couldn't be expected to know it would go like that.

Then she reminded him who he is, and even though she meant it meanly, like you're a hypocrite just like your mother, you're delusional just like your mother, you're willing to kill people to get what you want just like your mother, you call me the bad guy while being just like me just like your mother.

But it was still enough to remind him that there is no one better suited to breaking through some sort of pocket dimension unreality then the son of the Scarlet Witch.

So that's what he's doing, I don't think he's taking them off the road, I think he's pushing them down down down, back onto the road.

But really, also... Where is Rio?

Maybe Agatha is actually Rio, maybe the corpse of Alice is really Agatha, still sleeping in the poppies

Whatever it is specifically, none of this is exactly as it seems and I can't wait to see how it plays out

#agatha all along #spoilers #agatha all along spoilers #agatha harkness #warlock #agatha all along teen #follow the yellow brick road #Agatha all along theories #analysis #Agatha all along analysis #aaa episode 5

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manygeese · 5 months ago

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Part two to my playlist as Percy Jackson characters

PERCY JACKSON SHIPS AS SONGS FROM MY PLAYLIST

now with ratings! if you don’t agree, feel free to leave reasons that u do like the ship but please be civil abt it 👍 Warning i have not read all the books

these aren’t strictly canon guys and if u don’t like on of the ships ignore it and read the ones u do like :)

PERCABETH

PercyxAnnabeth. I can’t rate them anything but 10/10 I think because they are the foundation

“Stand By Me” by Ben E. King. Represents their loyalty to each other even as the world is going to hell :) “Nobody touches her” anyone?

FRAZEL

FrankxHazel. I think it’s cute but the age gap is weird but I like the devotion. Not my favorite but wholesome. 6.8/10?

“She’s Got a Way” by Billy Joel. Very wholesome, very pining-coded, very devoted. Reminds me of how Frank is over here like “I would kill myself for you” about Hazel in SoN

SOLANGELO

Will SolacexNico. I think it’s cute but I have not read the novel about them and have only read up to SoN bc my library doesn’t have MoA. 8/10, what I’ve seen in fanon is rlly cute

“Romeo’s Tune” by Steve Forbert. Very young love. Very frolicking in a grass field with my beloved.

JIPER

JasonxPiper. I don’t like it, it’s giving comphet. Literally built on a lie but they are besties. Romantic- 2/10. Platonic- 8/10.

“Our Last Summer” by ABBA. Again, young love, but more like a fling. Very reminiscent but also sweet. This is if I HAD to give them a romantic song.

VALGRACE

LeoxJason. I love it so much it is canon in my mind. The fanart for these silly little guys is so cute but also they are the next Romeo and Juliet. I look at them and I go “OOF” in a good way. 10/10

“Beyond the Sea” by Bobby Darin. They’re always waiting for the right time but it never comes 😔. Sorry in my mind they are happy and live in a cottage. This song is optimistic though!!! Don’t think about it too hard

PIPABETH

PiperxAnnabeth. I think it’s cute but I think I haven’t seen them enough to really think about them. VERY COOL THOUGH!!! 7/10.

“High on You” by Survivor. They lift each other up and make each other better! Also matches the energy I think they’d have- hardcore, like U-Haul lesbians hardcore

VALDANGELO

LeoxNico. I think it’s sweet. I see it as a “getting together romantically after years of friendship” thing. They’re very similar to each other and they’d definitely bond over their pasts! 8/10

“Come and Get Your Love” by Redbone. They back each other up and give each other unconditional love, help each other unlearn bad habits, help each be better and all that :)

JASICO

JasonxNico. Again, haven’t seen a lot of canon content about them but I do know Nico gets outed to Jason and I think they’d just be friends after that. Like I don’t think Nico would be 100% comfy in a romantic setting? Romantic- 5.9/10. Platonic- 8/10.

“Sleeping With the Television On” by Billy Joel. They’re unsure of themselves, too shy to make the first move on the other, etc. Pushing each other away and all that pining jazz.

JERCY

JasonxPercy. They’re bros. All the way. I could see how it could go from bros to boyfriends, but I’m stuck in the bro mindset. Romantic-8/10. They could have a lot of fun banter. Platonic-10/10.

“If It Wasn’t For The Nights” by ABBA. They need each other, but they get mad at each other a lot :( Narrative foils!!!!!

RUEGARD

Clarisse LaRuexSilena Beauregard. Tragic, the parallels to Patroclus and Achilles and PARALLELING! Amazing. Personally, I really like the poly ship where it’s Clarisse, Chris, Selena, and Beckendorf (cuz i love Beckendorf and I think they’d be a great support system for each other). By themselves, 9/10. Points deducted cuz they only really interact in TLO.

“Only the Good Die Young” by Billy Joel. The title should explain everything.

VALZHANG

LeoxFrank. In the same vein as Jercy because they’re bros. I think a poly relationship between Hazel, Leo, and Frank could be sweet too. But by themselves, romantically, 7/10. Platonic- 10/10, would shenanigan together.

“It’s Not Unusual” by Tom Jones. They both give off very “jealous of their partners” vibes. Also they like the dance.

Reblog with any other ships you like! I might do a part two :)

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jackhues · 1 year ago

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you're not slick - angel's world

NOTE: this takes place during dec/2023 - march/2024

this is a series/interactive au, so feel free to send in any ideas/requests/thoughts you have about this!angel's world au masterlist!!

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE|| PART FOUR || PART FIVE || PART SIX - SMAU (COMING SOON)

verstappen!twin reader x mat barzal ,, f1xhockey

angel.verstappen

liked by redbullracing, scuderiaferrari, lilymhe_ & others

angel.verstappen: life lately :)

landonorris: look at mother slay -> angel.verstappen: i love you son

charles_leclerc: hmm those shoes are not familiar to me -> angel.verstappen: they're not supposed to be

max.verstappen1: what is going on -> angel.verstappen: go away or i'll block you

danielricciardo: my eyes must be deceiving me because there's no way that's a man -> alex_albon: i am so confused rn

userone: WHO IS IT??

usertwo: it's barzy, i'm calling it -> userthree: he can't dress like that? -> user two: it's called the ✨ girlfriend effect ✨

redbullracing: i assume you're not too busy frolicking and you'll make it to the vegas gp -> angel.verstappen: first tell max to stop bullying me -> christianhorner: max stop bullying your sister -> userfour: HE'S LITERALLY THEIR DAD 😭

titobeauvi91: well well well 👀 -> angel.verstappen: blocked.

---

THE KOOL KIDZ (+ ONE OLD MAN 👴) charles, angel, daniel, max, lando, alex

charlie alright ange who's the guy

dannyricc we all saw him don't even try to play dumb

maxie stop leaving us on read and answer

son am i gonna have a dad?

angel i will introduce you to him when i want it's a boyfriend not the end of the world

alex but who's the boyfriend? we want to know

charlie i NEED to know ange i will spam you and you know that

angel charlie i will block you and you know that

charlie i'll show up at ur house

maxie even christian wants to know he's been bugging me for twenty minutes lia who is it??

angel you guys will learn eventually for now it's a hockey player and if things get serious serious you will all meet him

alex bring him to vegas

son I'M MEETING DAD AT VEGAS

dannyricc as the only adult angel bring him to vegas

angel ohmygod.

---

angel.verstappen

liked by arthur_leclerc, redbullracing, barzal97 & others

tagged: schecoperez, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, landonorris, & oscarpiastri

angel.verstappen: vegas baby

landonorris: mother doing mother things -> angel.verstappen: son supporting mother doing mother things

charles_leclerc: i like that picture, send it to me -> angel.verstappen: sent bubba -> userone: anyone find it weird how close she is to charles... like he's pierre's best friend -> usertwo: she's dating charles i'm calling it! -> userthree: y'all need to calm down 😭 she's known charles longer than she's known pierre liked by angel.verstappen & charles_leclerc

danielricciardo: it was nice to meet the mister -> angel.verstappen: he says it was nice to meet you too

userfour: WHO IS HE??

userfive: checo looks so cute in this pic -> angel.verstappen: checo always looks cute

---

THE KOOL KIDZ (+ ONE OLD MAN 👴) charles, angel, daniel, max, lando, alex

charlie well he was much nicer than i expected

angel did you expect me to pick an asshole

charlie yes

dannyricc yes

maxie yes

alex yes

son yes

angel charlie he's ur bsf

charlie he was still an asshole to you

son i like dad he's my new bestie right after mom

maxie i don't like him

angel we all know that

dannyricc we also know that's a lie

charlie yeah you love him

maxie i'm blocking all of you

---

barzal.97

liked by charles_leclerc, titobeauvi97, marner_93 & others

barzal.97: it's been a minute

userone: NAHH THEY'RE NOT SLICK

usertwo: THAT'S ANGEL I KNOW IT

userthree: who took my mans?

titobeauvi97: nice stars -> barzal.97: thanks i drew them

userfour: who's angel?? why's everyone saying she's with my mans?? -> userone: angel verstappen is max verstappen's twin. he's an f1 driver. angel's made her own name by creating a fashion line called l'acadia. everyone thinks they're dating bcz they've been seen together and have been teasing a partner on their account for a while

charles_leclerc: are those crocs? -> barzal.97: blocked. -> userfive: NAHH THIS IS ABSOLUTELY INSANEEE

#angel's world! au #naqia's au's!#mathew barzal imagines #mathew barzal imagine #mathew barzal #mathew barzal blurb #mathew barzal ig edit #mathew barzal smau #formula one imagine #formula one racing #formula 1 #formula one #formula one edit #ig edit #hockey instagram au #insta edit #instagram edit

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bo0tleg · 6 months ago

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Gems me and my friend said watching Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (2005) for the first time;

"This man (Harry) is neurodivergent." "OH MY GOD I WAS GONNA SAY THAT TOO."

"We're twenty minutes in and this guy only gets screwed! Can someone screw him good, for once, please?"

"Gay isn't even doing much." "His name is Perry." ".... I thought Perry was his last name." "What, no, his last name is Van something something." "Then why do they call him Gay Perry?"

"No straight guy would say 'I'm profoundly within the pussy.'" "It's knees deep in pussy." "Oh."

"I thought he meant that he's deep within the pussy." "No, he's just surrounded by it. Like there's a lot of pussy." "WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN!"

"... He's not a very good detective is he?"

"Do you know what f*ggot means?" "No."

"By the lord, what can go wrong now-- OH MY GOD THE CORPSE"

"HE WASN'T HIRED TO FIND THE MURDER, HE WAS HIRED TO HIDE THE CORPSE!" (This notion was proved, in fact, wrong)

"I just imagine someone seeing that corpse flying off the roof and bei-- AAAAAAHHHHHH KISS?!"

*Lost our shit when Harmony appeared after the Kiss* "DUDE! Oh my god... This guy.... He has to explain the kiss, and why the cops are looking for him, AND the corpse is still there, with the car shaking from Perry manhandling it. What can he say?"

Harry, on screen: "I managed to convince her that I wasn't gay." "HOW?"

"Love the snap snap, you go girl." (About Perry)

"Harry's the only sane one in the group. He fucking screams when he sees the corpse, he screams when someone gets shot, he screams... He screams."

"Everybody else is too ok with everything going on in this shit."

"I can see Perry's foreboding shadow in the crowd, fully expected him to be the only one to lift his hand when Harmony asked who hates Harry."

"Did he just...." "Graciously duck away from a flying glass, yeap."

"Are these two (goons) having a couples bit right now?" "I mean, they said that... *Rewinds* They were wondering why a guy like him (Harry) was hanging out with gay people." "Do they mean themselves?" (They did NOT, in fact, mean themselves. They meant Perry.)

"Love how Harry's just watching them bickering like should I run? Should I stay? Do I kill myself?"

"Honey, you can't be stealthy with that outfit. The fucking pom pom borders on your skirt are literally shining in the light."

"Gay, stop frolicking and look at the car that's about to run you over."

"HOW DID SHE NOT SEE HIM IN THE CAR?" "He was asleep...."

"His finger is still fucked up by the way. He never did get to that fucking hospital."

"Imagine finding a stranger just walking into your house." "IMAGINE SLEEPING IN A CAR THAT'S NOT YOURS ON A RANDOM STREET AND WAKING UP IN SOMEONE'S HOUSE."

"Oop, and there goes the finger. To the butthole."

"I can't understand a single thing that's going on, but I don't even give a fuck."

"WHY is it so important that the dead girl wasn't wearing underwear!"

Perry, on screen: "This isn't Good Cop, Bad Cop, it's fag and New Yorker, now spill." *Both tumbled over in laughter, and proceeded to repeat that for the rest of the movie*

"Why does he look so happy at the prospect of getting patted down?"

"His penis can shoot?"

"You know, I'm starting to think that when he said he was knees deep in pussy, he was being sarcastic."

"He lost his neurodivergent sparkle... Now he's just traumatized...."

"IF PERRY DIES I'M KILLING MYSELF."

"Honey... That's not... How you fix a bullet wound..." "Shut up, he's using the opportunity he was given to smooch."

"We were fools..... They couldn't kill Perry, he's the only competent one. Shit wouldn't get done without him."

"Hey, look it's Abraham Lincoln!" "IS THAT FUCKING ELVIS PRESLEY?"

"He didn't end up with Perry.... I'm sad." "What the fuck are you talking about? That was Perry!" "THAT WAS PERRY? WHAT." "He just.... Has a Beard."

#We spent like half of the movie trying to figure out If Gay Perry was in fact Gay or if it was a joke #Trigger warning: Straight People #Because nobody warned me there was straight romance in this shit and I was clowned #They don't end up together but I was promised gay smooches!! Real smooches!!! Curse you Val Kilmer!!!#I GENUINELY never laughed that much in a movie and I don't even normally like comedies #Super recommend #Kiss Kiss Bang Bang #Gay Perry #Perry Van Shrike #Harry Lockhart #val kilmer #robert downey jr

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givemea-dam-break · 2 years ago

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5 Times George Missed Lucy + 1 Time He Admitted It

a/n: this was co-written by the phenomenal @ikeasupremacy i quite literally had the time of my life writing this with you, and i think we broke our own hearts quite a few times during the process. we really, really hope you enjoy it <3

warnings: big sad (i beg, listen), language, spoilers for the end of the hollow boy words: 5k+ taglist: @neewtmas @waitingforthesunrise @wellgoslowly @irisesforyoureyes @aayeroace @flashbackwhenyoumetme @ettadear @ella23116 @mirrorballdickinson @magicandmaybe

5. More Chores

The basement was too cold, but George persevered with the chores. If he turned the thermostat up, Lockwood would probably have him beheaded, meaning he had no choice but to grin and bear it.

It was meant to be early spring for heaven’s sake, but he was stuck in the depths of the Earth to do the cleaning, while Anthony Bloody Lockwood was off frolicking in the sun with Holly to Satchel’s and Arif’s and God knows where else! Probably buying doughnuts or something! The favouritism at Portland Row was blatant that day.

He carefully laid Lockwood and Co.’s dozens of chains out across the hardwood floor, with some oil and a rag sitting on his desk, ready for Lucy. While she oiled them, he’d polish the rapiers and make sure they had enough salt bombs and lavender bundles. Not the worst job by far, but he would’ve definitely preferred to be outside or better yet, in the air-conditioned, cherry-blossom windowed Archives.

Heaving a sigh, he stepped over the thick iron links and trudged to the bottom of the stairs that led up, up, up into the kitchen.

“Luce!” he called. “Need you to come oil the- ”

Oh.

How stupid. Within a moment, his shoulders had sagged as he remembered; Lucy was gone. He suddenly became very aware of how alone he was in the house, the gentle hum of peaceful silence suddenly the disconcerting emptiness of a black hole.

Lucy had been gone for at least a week now, so how could he forget? He’d cleaned everything once without her already! She had been careful not to disturb anyone when she left, but George was a notoriously light sleeper. He had wordlessly sat in his room the morning she crept out, knowing she was gone for good as soon as he heard the third step creak. He heard everything, but he didn’t move an inch. He just listened as she crept out of the house that morning. Even though he didn’t do anything about it, he knew just as well as anyone that she was gone. And she wasn’t coming back.

A self-pitying laugh tore through his lips, resounding in his solitude, a moment meant for him alone. She had left them. Her absence was impossible not to notice, filling him with something distinctly empty. Hollow. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. A bittersweet nostalgia for something that hadn’t really left. Call it cheesy, but she’d started actually accepting him for who he was, and then she left.

She left.

For a moment longer, he lingered there, staring up at the spiralling stairs with a half-glare. Daylight glared back at him, causing him to squint and furrow his brows in frustration while the sun tried its best to burn his eyes right out of the sockets.

As he stared into the sun for whatever self-inflicted reason, a single quiet thought made him soften his gaze in defeat. He had nobody to be angry at but himself.

Turning with a dejected sigh, he rested his gaze upon the rapiers and the chains.

Once more, he’d have to do them both.

4. Food Gone Cold

Silence. Terrible, uncomfortable silence.

George stared down at the food that he’d spent the better part of an hour making, and a pit formed his stomach. There was Lockwood with his meal, Holly with hers, food left over, and an empty plate. Just sat there. Waiting. It haunted the dinner table more than any Source ever could.

When would he stop doing this? Lately, every single meal he cooked ended up with four portions, even though there were only three of them there. He could already see the concealed remorse on Holly’s face as she thought about stuffing yet another spare portion in the fridge in hopes that someone would eat it later. Usually, no one did.

The thought of it apparently made Lockwood “sick to his stomach” and, well, George couldn’t say he was nauseous, but he had definitely lost his appetite when he saw the leftover food in the pan, regardless of whatever it was that he’d made.

Worse still, he should’ve realised the moment that he’d set it down that it was wrong. After Lucy had left, they’d begrudgingly swapped the thinking cloth out for a new one, folding it up carefully and placing it on top of the fridge, scribbling back on George’s stray research from the last, any pending tasks from the last one, and new doodles had taken residence everywhere: George insulting Lockwood; Lockwood’s loopy handwriting forming a shopping list or writing reminders for everyone. Hell, even Holly had started adding to it, normally with little smiley faces or cartoony flowers, but it was something at least.

Then there was Lucy’s spot.

No one dared sit in her seat. It felt like an action that they would be scolded for, by either Lockwood or some incorporeal voice that was haunting them, like a strange shared conscience between the three of them. Maybe it would even be Lucy’s voice, scolding them like she did when, every day for a week or two, Lockwood would sit in her place just to annoy her. She would jokingly tell him off every time, and force him off of the seat in a light-hearted push-and-shove. A sweet memory came to mind of Lockwood falling off the chair, and they had all doubled over laughing until their ribs pulled and their cheeks ached, the kind where anything sets you off again. A sweet memory indeed.

And, so, there was a portion of the thinking cloth that was entirely blank. Not even George’s messy and rushed research passed the invisible line that marked Lucy’s section. Maybe a mark of respect, of not wanting to let her go, of fruitless ambition and silent mourning.

Even the biscuits. The biscuit rotation was all messed up. With Lucy around, they would know who had last taken a biscuit on their little mental rotation, a fine-tuned seventh sense (after being a Sensitive, naturally), but every time George reached for a custard cream, he mentally hesitated as a ghost of Lucy’s voice went to whisper in his ear, “Have I had my biscuit yet, George?”

He wanted to say something; he was desperate to end this stifling, choking silence that plagued them all like a hand to his throat, a gag in his mouth. What could he even say? Jokes often ended up turning sour nowadays. Holly had the (albeit little) decency to give George a polite laugh at the predicament, but on the other hand, Lockwood would simply sit and stare at the empty plate as if he could summon Lucy back to her plate if he just thought about her hard enough.

George had already tried that. It didn’t work.

3. Patience Lost

Lockwood was like a cat, George observed. When he had a goal, he was a machine; a well-oiled, slit-eyed, prowling machine. He waited for his prey, and he attacked just as gracefully. He was always waiting, watching for his next move, the next opportunity, with careful focus, and George could see why Lucy liked him. It was a skill neither he or Lucy possessed, yet one they both admired. All the same, he thought Lucy was bonkers for it.

When Lockwood had no purpose, he was a cat stretched out in the sun, ambling with no real purpose and slinking around in his suit and tie, waiting for the next thing to do. George generally found this habit of his incredibly pointless anyway, but with Lucy gone it was just worse. For the last year, Lockwood had the goal of thinking about Lucy.

If she were here, Lockwood would be moving. He’d be yelling at her from the foot of the stairs to turn her music down before marching up and doing it himself. He’d be prancing around, animatedly talking about the latest gossip from his magazine and how it was so important that they knew what colour of dress Penelope Fittes wore to a meeting with Steve Rotwell. Green meant it was about new gear, purple about the future of their agencies, blah, blah, blah. George had no mind for it.

But now? Lockwood slouched in his armchair in the library, flicking through a magazine, entirely devoid of emotion. His freakish poker-face had come out strongly as his eyes darted from line to line, occasionally lifting a finger to flip the page he was on. A cold mug of hot chocolate sat abandoned by his side that George had, yet again, accidentally made out of pure muscle memory.

Lucy always drank a hot chocolate with him.

George was now completely out of his book. His eyes remained on the pages, reading the sentences over and over again, but they weren't what was running through his head. What would Lucy be doing right now if she were here with them? No, he couldn’t let himself linger on that thought. He tried to bring his attention back to his book.

“However, what must be considered is that the wedding band itself might ngo fda bfgn tj Sorgfn. Teh womha wsa llysmengia attached nto go teh ewfifng band bug hre hgusadn. Hre source, sj tja ragen sons folsa ojn, wfg npt wutg hwt bones, bgk tkh husbnfks. This wfd a frveol...”

She’d have complained that the fire was dying down and added a log to it, her frame sinking into the seat near Lockwood yet again to continue her new crochet project of the week, as the calming click-clack of the plastic needles against each other melded wonderfully with the crackling of the (now revived) fireplace. A song would be stuck in her head, and she’d quietly hum along to it, none the wiser that George and Lockwood could both hear her.

“However, what must be considered is that the wedding band itself might not have been the Source. Teh womha wsa llysmengia attached nto go teh ewfifng band bug hre hgusadn. Hre source, sj tja ragen sons folsa ojn, wfg not with her bones, bgk tkh husbnfks. This wfd a frveol...”

She would have called them all boring for just sitting there, and gotten out the chess board to entertain herself. She was always freakishly good at that, George recalled with a slight smile. There were quite a few times where Lockwood had gotten so frustrated at her that he resigned and stormed off into his bedroom, leaving George to get absolutely throttled by Lucy every time. Every. Single. Time.

“However, what must be considered is that the wedding band itself might not have been the Source. The woman was sentimentally attached to not the wedding band, but her husband. Her source, as the agents soon found out, was not with her bones, but the husband’s. This was a revolutionary discovery for many reasons, one being the realisation…”

George gave up on the book, gently closing the hardback cover with a soft thump.

At the time, nothing could’ve annoyed him more, but George was bored of winning chess games now. Lockwood was somehow even worse than he was (and that was saying something), meaning the games lasted forever. Neither of them had the patience to sit for hours going back and forth. Lucy did.

That was the refreshing thing about games with her. It wasn’t relevant if the game lasted fifteen minutes or two hours, just sitting there with her gave the game an entirely more interesting feel. Especially when she swore under her breath after a bad move. George was a sore loser, and a gloating winner, but Lucy always took her losses humbly and her wins even more so.

Unless she was playing Holly. When Lucy won against Holly, it was as if the Heavens had shone a spotlight onto her face with how proud her smile was.

Lockwood missed that smile, and in some (pretty fucking irritating) way, George thought he did too.

It didn’t matter now. He’d have to deal with Lockwood’s doubled pawns and forgotten rooks, which was much less preferable. They would have to bear the silence of nobody humming as they crocheted, painfully watching a chess board gather dust, and having to live in the house that was no longer a home.

2. Ducks in the Wash

George could hear Lockwood rattling around in the basement incessantly, and he could only sigh. This all over again?

Surely there were no more socks missing - every single wash, Lockwood checked, and every single time he came back empty handed. It wasn’t like the washing machine was going to gobble them up. (And there was definitely no need to lift up the whole washing machine.) However, Lockwood always folded the washing better than George. That was the one reconciliation about the whole thing, thank goodness. Once George heard the telltale thump of the washing machine being on solid ground again, he assumed Lockwood was folding the clothes. Feeling less worried that Lockwood was going to break the washing machine this time around, he unpaused the telly and kept watching Pointless, or whatever crappy gameshow he had chosen to put on that day.

It wasn’t long before Lockwood came trudging up the basement stairs and through to the living room, a pile of neatly folded clothes in his arms. But it wasn’t the neatness of it (usually they were folded haphazardly until Holly came along and fixed it up) that had George pausing the telly once more. It was the bright blue thing on top.

“Lucy’s,” Lockwood said, not even trying to conceal the miserable look on his face. “She left a sock.”

George wondered if Lucy had noticed that it was missing. Unlikely. She had so many pairs of socks, all the same shade of tell-tale royal blue, she could probably provide a few dozen to each family on Portland Row and the next few streets over and still have enough for the next two wash cycles. Besides, it was such a small thing that she’d never notice. She’d never. Never. She wouldn’t have. It’s just a sock. She’d probably lost another one and she had perfect pairs again.

But, an irrational part of George couldn’t help but blurt out, “Are you going to call her?”

There wasn’t really any need to call her. She’d survive without one bright blue sock, even if there were cute little silicone ducks on the sole of this one to keep her from slipping. But George found himself wanting to hear her voice through the phone, strangely enough. The way she said “Hello?” in her Northerner accent on the phone, her little inquisitive chirp, even though she usually knew who it was, always used to make him laugh, and he was sure it would now.

It was clear Lockwood wanted to call, what with the twitch of his fingers, and the way he longingly stared at the ducky sock. It was easy to read him after a while of knowing him, and as he observed Lockwood, he saw a strange, stone-like look on his face. He knew that expression. The barrage of emotion he was holding behind a facade of stoic presence. The way he didn’t blink while he looked at the piece of fabric in his hand, not once. His eyebrows furrowed so slightly it could even be mistaken for natural.

George knew that expression. He saw it in the mirror every day.

“No.”, Lockwood muttered breathlessly.

He placed the washing down, balanced precariously on the back of the sofa, threatening to tip over. George had bigger things on his mind than the laundry, observing it as it teetered in the balance, but his mind was in a different place as he watched the washing basket lean forward.

He simply remained on the sofa, entirely sunken in his armchair, feeling as frozen as a marble-cut statue, and staring at the sock in Lockwood’s hands. He couldn’t take his eyes off it, as if it held some piece of Lucy that was finally attainable now that they had found it - something that could connect the three of them once again. For a moment, he wished that you could have Sources for a real person.

It’s just a sock, George told himself. There was nothing outright special about it and there never would be.

So what was their deal?

What had them reeling over a sock of all things? Was it because they could both easily imagine Lucy’s laughter as she tried to skid over the kitchen floor, only for her socks to keep her from sliding? Those stupid ducks on the bottom of her socks? Was it because of all things to have been left by Lucy accidentally, this was it? This was the last thing they had of her in the house? A literal sock?

Then again, it wasn't unwelcome. It simply brought with it a reminder of the gaping hole in their household, and dragging behind it the ugly emotions of guilt, and the hurt of a betrayal.

“I’ll wait to give it back to her,” Lockwood murmured in the same tone.

But they both knew the time would never come. Lucy wasn’t coming back, no matter how tightly Lockwood held onto the sock now, knuckles turning white. No amount of socks stolen by the washing machine would bring her knocking on the front door, or bursting through and demanding them back. The sock would simply sit, gathering dust and harbouring feelings that had no need to be felt.

But George still agreed, holding onto whatever tiny shred of hope he still had that she would come back. George knew as well as anyone else that it was fruitless, but even he didn’t have the heart to extinguish the hope that their paths would cross again.

It felt like something was destroying him though. He had gotten to a point where it was getting unbearable, the pain of all the reminders of her everywhere, it gnawed at him and ate away at his focus, at his time, at his brain, at his happiness. He should’ve put into words, and he knew that inside him, but that would destroy all the work he had put into coping with it; for both Lockwood and Holly. Lucy was an unnamed ticking bomb, ready to cause an explosion at 35 Portland Row anytime soon, and George was reaching his limit of how many more reminders of Lucy he could take.

The washing fell over. Once upon a time, Lucy and him would have laughed together over the thought of watching Lockwood fold it all again. They would’ve giggled until their cheeks were on fire, their ribs felt tangled in knots, shrouded by the ecstasy of simple delights.

“Lockwood? The washing’s just fallen over.” George called, entirely monotone.

1. Someone Familiar

The early spring air clung to George as he stepped through the front door, shopping bags in hand. Really, London had no excuse to still be so cold, but, alas, he still shivered as he kicked the door shut and placed the bags down. The warmth of the hallway was incredible, and he could’ve just stood there forever, feeling his skin grow warm. It was only when he eventually tugged off his jacket that he heard the laughter.

He peeked into the living room, where Lockwood sat in his armchair, and Holly on the sofa beside someone else whose hand she held and squeezed. The sight filled George with warmth. Holly’s last relationship… Well, it had ended badly, and she was a wreck for a little while, so to see her happy now felt like something, finally, was going right. George was genuinely happy for Holly, and for everyone. They really needed something to go right, all of them did.

He hadn’t realised the ache in his chest until his eyes lifted to the girl whose hand she held.

How did he not notice? The bobbed brown hair, the wooly jumper and denim skirt, it was…

“Oh, George!” Lockwood said, grinning as he set his mug of tea down. “You’re back! Hope you don’t mind, Holly brought her girlfriend over for a bit.”

George tried to move, but he found himself stuck in place, simply staring at the back of her head. Surely he was dreaming. None of this was real. It couldn’t be her. No, he was still sleeping soundly in his bed and his alarm hadn’t gone off yet. It was a lie. This couldn’t be real. A dream. A nightmare.

But- But, still, however he hated to admit it, there was hope in him. She had come home. She was back. She was here. She had finally come back to them after all these horrible months and he would never let Luc-

“Lucy” turned and flashed a grin at George, and he felt a little pang of nausea in his throat. This girl, she wasn’t Lucy. He’d mistaken her just because of an outfit and a haircut. How stupid of him. As he scanned her up and down, within a matter of seconds he had noticed the pristine white trainers she wore rather than plasm-covered, chunky black boots, her jumper was purple instead of blue. Her eyebrows were prominent, pointing upwards and giving the face an inherently sharp aura about it, combined with long features that he could never even imagine on Lucy’s round face.

He saw it all clear as day, all of it. The freckles Lucy lacked and the blue eyes she didn’t have, the mascara-caked lashes and the pointed chin.

“You’re George?” she asked in a high-pitched tone that Lucy would’ve definitely later made fun of. “Hol’s told me all about you.”

Lucy would make fun of the nickname too.

He felt insanely stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he should’ve realised sooner - she had been introduced as Holly’s girlfriend for Heaven’s sake! There was a higher chance of Lockwood and Kipps dating than there was Lucy and Holly. But, he would’ve preferred Lucy over whoever this was. He didn’t hold anything against this (probably lovely) girl, who just coincidentally managed to look uncannily like Lucy from the behind, but George couldn’t help but bite back a sob.

The bittersweet lemon-curd hope now tasted rotten and acidic in his mouth. The taste of his idiocy coated his tongue and twisted his insides, and he hated every moment of it. He hated that for a moment he’d believed it to be her, that he had been ready to smile and accept her back without a word’s notice. He hated himself for having hope, and he hated Lucy for leaving, and he was entirely ready to be sick to his stomach.

He was impressed he managed a nod in her general direction, before abandoning the shopping bags on the floor and storming upstairs. Up, up, up, until he found himself in the doorway of the attic bedroom. The door was forced open, and he stared inside the stripped down room, the same way she’d left it, with her Blu-tack stains still on the walls and a leftover Polaroid of the three of them to the right of the bed. He couldn’t help but stare at the photo, as a tonne of weight settled on his shoulders as he stood unsettlingly alone in the attic bedroom. The weight of Lucy’s memory, perhaps. Because that’s what had made him feel so terrible these last few months, wasn’t it? It was never just throwing away the food, or being bored with a chess game, or seeing a sock with ducks on it, or any of it. Everywhere he looked, he saw Lucy, but he didn’t have her at his side, bickering with him and making her little remarks, lifting his spirit a percentile at a time, and dropping him down to ground level after he finally felt valued and appreciated by someone, after he found a friend who made him laugh until he couldn’t anymore, even though he absolutely hated her sometimes.

He had never hated Lucy Carlyle more than that moment.

He flung his clothes off the vanity chair, mad that he’d even had the gall to put them in this room, and sat on the bed, trying to arrange his thoughts.

It was like cutting himself open to admit that he missed Lucy. This girl he’d detested for months; this girl he’d slowly learned to appreciate, and even cherish. He looked for her in every room of this house - the little crocheted coasters she had made, her abandoned mugs in the cupboard with awful sayings on them, the honey jar in the kitchen that only she had used for her tea.

Hell, even whenever he took out his favourite mug, because she had accidentally chipped it her first week there, and George had sworn he would never talk to her again after that, decreeing it on the Thinking Cloth with so many swears that he lost count.

Every moment of regret, of sadness, of longing he had felt since her leaving seemed to add up and show itself proudly to him now, sending him into a rabbit hole of falling into emotional turmoil. The solitude of the basement every month, the quiet of the evenings without the click clack of a crochet needle, the way his socks were never mixed up with hers anymore, the way nobody stopped him from researching until 5 in the morning-

Fuck.

George sprinted to the little bathroom and unloaded the contents of his stomach into the toilet. When his quaking body had finished purging the contents of his (again) too-large breakfast, he crumpled onto the floor beside the bowl. The sour taste of bile was heavy on his tongue, and it slicked along the sides of his throat.

He looked up at the abandoned room around him. Just the sight of its sorry state was enough to tempt him back into throwing his face over the toilet bowl once more, but he resisted. He leaned his head against the cool tile behind him, trying to hold back the tears in his eyes, the mucus in his throat mixing awfully with the vile taste in his mouth.

Lockwood had come upstairs at this point, the door being thrust open as he rushed to George’s side. His expression was pained, as he looked at George with concern in his eyes, but a resigned light to them as well.

“You’re okay,” was all he said.

0. Confession

Moonlight streamed through the attic window, splitting across the clothes-covered floor in beams of silver. It was a peaceful kind of light - the sort that would have Lucy standing by any window in the house, staring longingly up at the sky. She always spoke about how she missed the stars, stars that glittered for her back home but were now hidden by the dozens of ghostlamps scattered across the city, and the haze of pollution in the city.

As George sat on the edge of her bed alongside Lockwood, he wondered if Lucy was looking up at the moon now, too.

Oh, the horrible feeling of knowing they shared a sky but not a roof.

Lockwood heaved a sigh, playing with the polaroid in his hand. He’d plucked it off the wall not long ago and had taken to staring at it, occasionally brushing his thumb gently over where Lucy was. Maybe he thought it was like a genie’s lamp, that if he rubbed it three times some otherworldly being would come and grant their wish of bringing her home.

No genie appeared, no wishes were granted, and Lucy didn’t return.

George remembered the day that photo had been taken. Lucy had taken the last jam doughnut, the one he had wanted, and they had argued the entirety of breakfast. Holly had trotted into the kitchen, polaroid camera in hand, grinning about how she’d found it in a charity shop and had to buy it. She wanted her first photo with it to be of her friends, the agents of Lockwood and Co., but no matter how much she and Lockwood tried, George and Lucy wouldn’t stop arguing. So there was Lockwood, smiling, albeit awkwardly, between George, who looked like he was about to implode with anger - anger he now saw as an overreaction, even if she was a thief - and Lucy, whose cheeks were flushed pink, as she waved the half-eaten doughnut in the air. The camera caught the moment some of the jam in the middle had dribbled out onto her brand new jumper.

“I thought it was her, too, at first, you know,” Lockwood said after what felt like years of silence. “Holly’s girlfriend. I thought it was Lucy as well.”

With a shrug, George said, “Doesn’t matter now.”

“You miss her, and that’s okay.”

“I do not miss her.”

But it was a lie. That’s all George had been doing since she left, wasn’t it? Lying to himself and to everyone else that he didn’t miss her.

He had hated Lucy for so long. From when she had first joined the company and the few months that followed. Then after she left them, giving some bullshit excuse and a secret escape. But he had never allowed himself to miss her, not really. He had only burdened himself with the memory of her, looking for her in anything he could find but not allowing himself to grieve the girl who hadn’t even died.

His fingers hurt from clutching the duvet cover so hard. “Maybe I miss her a little.”

Lockwood’s laugh was breathy, filled with tears he wouldn’t dare shed. “You can give up with the pride, George. She’s not here to make fun of you.”

“But you are.”

The words resonated between them both, and for a moment George truly realised how alone they were. Yes, Holly was there daily, mourning Lucy’s resignation in her own detached way, but George and Lockwood… Lucy had been everything to Lockwood, and somewhat less than that for George. They were a trio. George couldn’t even remember the agency before Lucy, so now it felt like a machine missing a cog - it didn’t function properly, and wouldn’t until it was put back into place.

“I’d never make fun of you for this.” Lockwood’s smile was nowhere to be found. Not in the corners of his lips or the dark of his eyes. It was as if it had been torn from him the minute Lucy stepped out the door for the last time. “I miss her, too.”

Of course Lockwood did. Missing Lucy was second nature to him. Any time she’d gone off on a case by herself he had missed her. Hell, he probably missed her when she went to bed a few floors above him. But this was unfamiliar territory for George. He wasn’t used to missing people. Not his parents who still lived in London, who occasionally visited and checked in on how things were going. Not his siblings, who were also still nearby muscling on with their careers. He’d never experienced loss like Lockwood and Lucy had.

Was that why it felt like he had been hit by a ten-tonne brick? He hated this feeling more than he’d ever hated anything.

“She’s not coming back,” George said, blinking away the sting in his eyes. “We’ll cope. We have to.”

But, staring at the room she once lived in, straining to try and feel any remnant of her presence, he wished that the genie would finally appear.

#givemea-dam-break #mayra lore #lockwood and co fanfiction #george karim fanfiction #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #george karim #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood fanfiction #lucy carlyle #lucy carlyle fanfiction #locklyle #locklyle fanfiction #holly munro #the hollow boy

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maccreadysbaby · 12 days ago

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Project: Killcode

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

it’s getting real

part thirty-three

❝ PLAGUE DOCTOR ❞

FRIDAY — AUGUST 3 — 8:02PM

BENTLEY AND ASTEN DIDN’T TALK BESIDES A FEW SENTENCES OVER THE WEEK, ABOUT CLASS OR SCHOOLWORK OR SOMETHING EQUALLY BORING AND USELESS.

As weird as it sounded, Bentley was starting to get... used to it. He just… hung out with other people. He’d started talking more with Valor, and had gone back out into the city with Rockie just because they felt like going to Times Square. He’d been getting steadily better at soccer and closer with Varian and Koa, and Bellamy was starting to open up more, to talk when other roommates were around, to come out of his room even when Bentley wasn’t there.

He’d gone to get ice cream with Vera and Layla again, had helped Summer hang posters and banners for some kind of name drawing thing (which took them until like, midnight), and texted Chloe a lot, even if she didn’t talk to him in person much besides early mornings and late nights.

He hadn’t heard from his father, he hadn’t had any more breakdowns or bad dreams, he’d spoken to a Wayne every day about nothing important, and everything was… good. Even now, on a Friday night at almost eight, everything was quiet, and normal.

But he guessed it all could’ve been a little better, had a fundamental piece of the puzzle not been missing. (As in a blue-haired Brazilian who’d literally almost died by Bentley’s side way too many times for a lie to ruin their friendship.)

“-no, yeah, Jackson’s whole dorm has, like, the plague. He’s texting me about it right now. Sounds rough,” Varian trailed off. He, Koa, Valor, Bellamy, and Bentley were sitting at the dining table, playing a mean game of uno. Valor was winning. (Bentley may or may not have had about an entire deck of cards in his hand, courtesy of sitting next to Koa, who had absolutely no mercy.)

“Didn’t I see you frolicking around at their breakfast table this morning?” Valor questioned with a snicker, laying a card down, and Varian shrugged.

“Nah. My immune system is so terrible that sometimes it has pity on me and keeps me from getting sick,” He muttered, laying one on top of Valor's. “I’ll be fine.”

“Speaking of sick,” Koa piped up, laying a card down on his turn. Bentley drew four. “I haven’t seen Rockie or Asten since dinner. Where are they?”

Bentley glanced up from his hand of cards, to Valor, who was the most likely one to know the answer to that. Unsurprisingly, he simply shrugged. “Rockie said he wasn’t feeling good. I don’t know about Asten.”

Koa groaned. “Oh, Jesus, we have the plague already.”

Varian held his hands up. “Wasn’t me!”

“He’s not sick,” Valor continued. Everyone sort of waited for him to elaborate on that statement, but he never did, just waited for them to keep playing. So eventually they just… let it go.

Bentley put a card down, and Bellamy did right after.

“Was Asten feeling okay?” Varian questioned, glancing over at Bentley. He shrugged lightly, and thought about making an offhand comment on Asten's current vanished status, but decided to just settle on:

“I dunno,”

Varian then looked over at Valor, who also shrugged. “I have no idea. Uno.”

“Me, either,”

“I don’t think Asten’s here,”

Everyone glanced down to the end of the table, where Bellamy was looking back at them. He seemed to shrink a little under all the eyes, but he didn't get up and move, or apologize, which was a good improvement in Bentley's book.

“What do you mean?” Valor questioned, leaning forward slightly.

Bellamy's brown eyes flicked vaguely toward the door. “I saw him leave right when we got back from dinner. I don’t think anyone was really paying attention.”

Bentley glanced down at the table, at his cards.

Asten was really into utilizing his newfound freedom, wasn’t he? Just up and leaving midday with none of his roommates and no heads-up for anyone?

Valor hummed. “That's odd.”

Another moment of quiet passed, and Varian laid a card down, then Koa, then Bentley and Bellamy. When Valor's turn came around, he put his final card atop the deck to declare himself winner with an abrupt: “I’ll be back later.”

Then he stood up, grabbed a hoodie, and left the dorm without much more than a split-second glance back.

Bentley wondered if he was going to look for Asten.

“Yeah, I think I’m over getting absolutely annihilated repeatedly,” Koa sighed, placing his cards down on the table. “I have homework, and Sunday night me is going to be pissed if I don’t do it now.”

Varian gave him a sarcastic round of applause. “How mature of you!”

“Don’t get used to it,”

Bentley chuckled lightly, gathering up the cards as they dispersed from the table and stacking them to put them back in the box.

“I’m glad we stopped, I was losing so hard,” He muttered, and Bellamy snickered at him, sliding his hand of cards across the table toward the box.

“I was close to winning,”

Bentley glanced up at him. “Of course you were, just like you won the three games before that.”

“Luck of the draw,” Bellamy shrugged.

Bentley shoved the cards in the box and folded it up. “Literally.”

It was quiet for another moment, and they heard Varian and Koa bickering in the background for a few seconds before Koa emerged from his bedroom, settling on one of the couches with a binder. Varian came out and plopped down on the other couch.

Bentley glanced down the table at Bellamy, who was sitting quietly. "I'm proud of you."

Bellamy glanced up at him, and a confused look crossed his features. "Why?"

"Because you've been doing so well with the other roommates," Bentley replied. "It's great. I know firsthand that it helps when you know other people can see the effort."

Bellamy smiled lightly, his eyes trailing down to the tabletop. He opened his mouth, but his soft words were drowned out when something loud and pulsing invaded Bentley's ears. A heartbeat; quick, and hard, like someone was running.

He glanced between all three of his visible roommates in quick succession, even if he knew it probably wasn’t them. Sure enough, one by one, they checked out, Varian, Koa, and Bellamy, their pulses calm and even. It was unsurprising to find that the pounding was coming from behind a closed door.

Rockie and Valor’s closed door.

Bentley zoned back in, and Bellamy was looking at him curiously.

“Sorry, what?”

“Oh. I just said thank you,” Bellamy replied, creasing his brow. “What did you hear?”

Bentley glanced up at the bedroom door across the way. “Rockie’s heartbeat. It’s fast.”

Bellamy glanced back at the door as if it would magically open so he could see in. “Maybe you should go check on him.”

Bentley glanced at him, then at the bedroom door again, a few moments of silent contemplation passing between both of them. Valor said Rockie wasn’t feeling good, but that he also wasn’t sick. What did that even mean?

Despite the lingering question, Bentley stood anyhow, making his way around the table. He ruffled Bellamy’s hair on the way by, which, a few short weeks ago, wouldn’t have gotten panic in response, but today, earned him a little smile.

He made his way to Rockie’s door and, checking the pulse one last time (no change), knocked softly. “Rockie? It’s Bentley.”

A moment passed where Varian and Koa glanced over at him, then between each other. Bentley glanced back at Bellamy, who looked back at him, all four of them waiting for a response that never came. The pulse remained unchanged, a repetitive bam, bam, bam in Bentley’s skull.

He knocked again. “Rockie?”

Again, no response. Nothing to suggest his voice or knocking had been heard in the slightest.

With a glance over to Koa, who was watching again, Bentley shrugged. Then he turned the knob and pushed Rockie’s bedroom door open in the slightest.

It was dark in the room. The blackout curtains were pulled tight even against the darkness of nighttime, and the bathroom lights were on, but the door was closed, only letting in the faintest sliver of dim light. Bentley might’ve guessed Rockie was in the bathroom, if it weren’t for the curled up figure that kept shifting uncomfortably on the bottom bunk.

Bentley stepped in farther, and when he did, he was met by the smell of sterile cleaner that reminded him of a hospital and made his nose crinkle. He closed the door softly behind him.

As his eyes continued to adjust to the darkness, the figure on the bed became clearer — it was definitely Rockie. He was laying on the edge of his mattress, knees tucked up tight and arms wrapped around himself, trembling slightly on top of his covers. Trembling, Bentley noticed, not shivering -- less of an off and on movement that came with the cold and more of a constant… vibration, almost? His eyebrows were pitched inward slightly, his eyes and face twitching every now and then like he was having a bad dream.

Bentley stepped forward slowly. “Hey, Rockie?”

Of course, he went unheard. Bentley took another grueling step forward, and the closer he got, the more he heard Rockie’s soft but undeniably ragged, uneven breaths. It wasn’t terrified thrashing or screaming like Bentley and Bellamy were accustomed to, it was just… he didn't know. Really calm, in a weird way. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone so calm during a bad dream. That was what was happening, right? What else would it be?

Nevertheless, he inched forward again, closer to the bed. “Rockie?”

Waking him up was way easier than Bentley thought it would be. He didn’t have to shake him or tap him or raise his voice like everyone did for him — Rockie’s green eyes just flicked open at the simple mutter of his name, breath hitching in his throat with a nearly inaudible, sharp inhale.

Despite his startling calmness, Bentley took notice of the shininess that quickly gathered at the bottom of his eyes.

“Hey, Rockie. Just me…” Bentley trailed off, taking another tentative step forward, fiddling with the ends of his sleeves. “Valor said you weren’t feeling good, so I was just coming to check on you…”

Rockie’s dull eyes focused on him, then flicked around the room as though he was gathering his bearings. Then he sighed lightly, curling up tighter like he was uncomfortable, blinking a few times until there was no sign of the previous wetness. He swallowed and let his eyes fall shut again. “Thanks, Bentley. I’m okay.”

With a frown, Bentley slowly reached forward and rested a tentative hand on his forehead. The older boy just smiled faintly in this almost half-aware, half-asleep kind of way. “Don't have a fever.”

Bentley drew his hand back.

“My meds like to screw with me,” He mumbled with a strange movement that was probably meant to be a shrug, not even opening his eyes. “But it’s fine.”

Bentley cringed to himself, glancing at the cleaning supplies that were stationed haphazardly outside of their bathroom door. “Your medicine makes you sick?”

Bentley understood side effects like feeling nauseous if you didn’t eat food with certain medicines, but a pill that put him on bed arrest seemed kinda… unnecessary?

Rockie hummed into his pillow, obviously only half-present. “When it pleases.”

Bentley was quiet for a short minute. “Is there anything you want or… need?”

Rockie’s eyes fluttered open, bouncing around the room a little in contemplation before drifting closed again. “S’ Valor here?”

“...No, he left just a few minutes ago,” Bentley replied sheepishly. “Sorry.”

For a minute, after that, Rockie didn’t say anything. Bentley might’ve thought he was asleep if it weren’t for the contemplative look on his face. After a moment, he swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Another vague look of discomfort crossed his features. “Then I guess not.”

While Bentley couldn’t see it, his powers (a blessing and sometimes a curse, too.) allowed him to feel the vague tears that built at the corners of Rockie’s eyes. Did he need Valor that bad? Because Bentley would run across campus to find him. It wouldn’t be hard, he had giant white wings!

“If there’s something you need me to do… I can do it,” Bentley continued softly (because he couldn’t just tell Rockie hey, I can feel your tears, because I’m creepy.)

Rockie just sort of shook his head and didn’t open his eyes.

“No, it’s okay… I can text you if I need you,” He replied cooly, turning his head into his pillow in a clever way so Bentley couldn’t really see his face anymore.

Bentley just sort of nodded even though he was hesitant to leave. He just kind of stood there for a minute, and in his drowsy state, Rockie didn’t seem to mind. He just laid there.

But Bentley assumed he should talk again before he fell asleep if he was going to, so he continued, softly: “Do you want me to stay?”

A moment of hesitation hung in the air, like Rockie wanted to say yes. But then he swallowed again, and adjusted his head on his pillow. “No, it's okay.”

Bentley bit his lip. “Are you sure?”

“Mm. I’m just gonna sleep,” He replied. Then he opened his mouth to say something else, but decided against it. “Thanks… Bentley.”

“No problem…” Bentley replied, as he began to move for the door. “Text me if you need me, okay?”

“I will,”

So with that, he left and closed the door softly behind him, keeping his phone ringer on and the screen in his sightline until further notice.

He pretended he didn’t feel the stubborn one or two tears that fell down Rockie’s face a few moments after he left.

It was midnight, and Valor wasn't back.

Neither was Asten.

Bentley would be lying if he said he wasn’t anxious. But, since Asten was clearly so tough and capable and experienced that he could just vanish on his own without telling anybody, he obviously had no reason to worry.

But he did anyway. Because it was Asten; and it was basically Bentley’s full-time job to worry about him, even if they weren’t talking.

Rockie hadn’t texted him since he’d checked on him earlier, but he kept his phone turned up and sitting next to his pillow anyways. He’d checked on him once more about an hour and a half ago, but he looked to be asleep, so Bentley didn’t bother him.

It was about twenty minutes past midnight when Bentley’s phone did chime. He was quick to look at it, but the name on the screen was Chloe, not Rockie.

He opened the text and quickly scanned it.

Well, me and my roommates are all officially dying.

Bentley scrunched his face up, typing back a quick: what?

The bubonic plague that’s going around has struck. She texted back. It’s so annoying. It’s ultra contagious so they won’t let us leave the dorm. The nurse had to come to us this morning.

Bentley cringed to himself. I’m sorry, was his message back. That must’ve been the same plague that Varian was talking about one of his friends having.

Her text: It’s fine, I get time to binge watch netflix. Are you guys uninfected? Came in a moment later.

Yeah, thankfully, He replied.

Make sure to wear your plague doctor mask to class, she typed. And send me a selfie, too.

Bentley smiled to himself. I’d rather be caught dead than wear one of those.

She sent back an amused message of: Oh don’t worry, you will! With a funny gif of someone dressed completely as a plague doctor dancing.

Bentley found himself smiling in amusement at the screen. And a second later, she sent another text.

Anyways, I was just letting you know since you were around me. The nurse prescribed me an unholy amount of sleep, so I’m gonna try and do that. Keyword, try.

Bentley snickered lightly to himself. I guess I should, too. He sent back.

Goodnight, Bentley :)

Goodnight.

The text thread went offline, and a few moments later, he laid his phone back down next to his head.

Well, whatever sickness they had obviously wasn’t that bad, or Chloe wouldn’t have been texting back so well. Or planning to have a netflix marathon.

About three seconds into his contemplations, his phone dinged again.

When he checked, it was Valor's name shining on the lockscreen, along with the text: Hey, you awake?

Bentley exhaled heavily, reaching over and typing: yeah. What’s up?

Valor’s typing bubbles popped up and disappeared a few times, and it only worked to make Bentley more anxious. He’d left after they mentioned Asten, which probably meant he was looking for, or maybe even found him. And lots of typing bubbles meant a long text. And long texts were usually bad texts. Was this a bad text about Asten?

Do me a favor and check on Rockie? He told me you went in earlier. Was Valor’s mysterious terrible text that… didn’t end up being so terrible. Then another came in quickly after. He usually has nightmares when he feels bad. They’re rough sometimes.

Bentley blew out a sigh of relief and texted back: Yeah, I’ll go check on him.

Valor’s bubbles bounced at the corner of the screen for a while before the next message, Thanks, I shouldn’t be much longer, popped up.

You’re welcome, was what Bentley sent back.

Then, with a soft sigh, he pushed himself up out of his bed, rubbing his eyes lightly. He flicked the bedroom lamp on and sent a glance to Asten’s bunk, as if he’d magically appear there just because Bentley wanted him to.

He didn’t.

Nonetheless, Bentley swung his bedroom door open, stepping out into the dim living area. Varian was the only one out there, and only one lamp was on. He was asleep on the couch with a laptop open on the table like he’d been watching something.

Bentley closed his bedroom door softly and tiptoed over toward Rockie’s, his footfalls almost dead silent in an attempt not to wake Varian. He thought about knocking, but wouldn’t that just risk waking both Varian and Rockie?

So he opened Rockie’s door just a few inches, peeking inside at the bottom bunk.

It was empty.

With an exhale, Bentley pushed the door open just enough to slide himself through, then closed it behind him. Rockie wasn’t in the bed, which meant he was in the bathroom. Unless he’d taken an impromptu trip out like Asten. Or leaped out of his window. (Given they were on the sixth floor, probably not.)

But the bathroom light was on, and the door was closed, and the fan was running, which probably meant he was in there.

Bentley stepped up to the door and, after a second, knocked lightly. “Rockie? You okay?”

Five seconds passed, then ten. No reply.

“Rockie?”

Bentley went unheard. He tried to twist the door handle, and it moved freely. Was it really his place to go barging in? Valor had asked him to check…

With a cringe, mostly because he didn’t want to make Rockie upset if he didn’t want him in there, he continued: “I’m… gonna come in, okay?”

Nothing.

Bentley pushed the door open.

It thudded softly against something when it was only about halfway open, and when Bentley looked down to check what it was, it ended up being Rockie’s foot. He was curled up on the bathroom floor on top of what looked like a thin, black throw blanket, legs tucked up and arms wound around himself just like he had been in his bed. He looked like he was asleep, the same vague discomfort splayed across his features that had been earlier.

When the door nudged his foot, his frown deepened, and he pulled his legs in tighter.

“Rockie? You awake?” Bentley asked softly. He waited for an answer, but it ever came, and he never opened his eyes.

Bentley sighed and pulled his phone out, shooting a text to Chloe that said: Still awake?

Not ten seconds later, he got one that said: Yeah. I just found say yes to the dress on my computer so I think sleeping tonight is a no. Thought you were trying to go to bed?

Sick roommate, Bentley replied. What does the bubonic high school plague entail?

Chloe’s typing bubbles popped up off and on for a few moments, before a text came: Well, it started with just feeling gross, then came all the stupid symptoms. I’d say the worst ones are the like sun-level fevers and throwing up every three milliseconds. But there’s also just weird random stuff like muscle cramps and burning and stuff, which I can honestly say is a first for me while sick. You think your roommate has it?

Bentley glanced up at Rockie. While he looked extraordinarily uncomfortable, he didn’t exactly look sick. Bentley moved to the other end of the bathroom as quietly as he could, crouching down and gently resting the back of his fingers against Rockie’s forehead. He shifted a little under the touch, but didn’t stir fully.

He doesn’t have a fever, Bentley typed back to Chloe. Just checking. Thanks.

No prob.

Bentley sighed lightly, his eyes lingering on Rockie’s limp form. He wished he could help, but he wasn’t exactly sure what to do about sickness caused by medicine. He remembered Tim complaining about the fact that he couldn’t mix a lot of pain meds and stuff with Fluoxetine, so he didn’t really… have anything else he could offer up. Except for himself, but Rockie had said he didn’t want him to stay earlier. So…

Rockie suddenly made a quiet noise, almost a whimper of sorts. Bentley glanced down at him, and he was coiling up tighter, brows furrowed. Bentley could hear the accelerating bu-dump of his heartbeat.

He reached out to rest a gentle hand on his shoulder, and-

There was a flash, and a searing, stabbing pain ripped through Bentley’s head. He was falling, and falling, and WHAM! He hit the floor with a thud that sent a deep pain shooting through every bone in his body.

He groaned lightly. What the hell?

He peeled his eyes open and glanced around. Instead of Rockie’s bathroom, he was in… a long, white hallway? Lined with doors, with dim lights that flickered every now and then? It was cold, and when he looked down at himself, he was in a hospital gown with no socks or shoes.

Where…

Suddenly, a muffled: bang, bang, bang, bang, bang sounded from the other end of the long, dark hall, and Bentley’s head snapped up in that direction. It was just… long. And dim. And empty.

Bentley pushed himself off of the cold white floor and glanced both directions down the hall. They seemed to be endless, so long it made him kinda dizzy, with flickering lights here and there. There were so many doors he couldn’t even begin to count them all.

The banging came from the opposite direction it had before, and he whipped around that way, greeted by nothing but emptiness.

And suddenly, the entire hallway went pitch black.

And a second later, one light, all the way at the end, flicked on.

And she was standing there.

Bentley felt the moment his soul nearly left his body, going absolutely rigid, unable to move, unable to breathe like all of the air was sucked right out of his lungs by a force he couldn’t see. All coherent thought screeched to a halt, and he heard, felt his heartbeat slamming in his ears. Panic clawed it's way up his throat, and all of his senses fired at once — he wanted to run, he wanted to scream, he wanted to start crying, he wanted to kill her, he wanted to scream in her face, he wanted to get out of here, he wanted to go home.

He couldn’t think enough to react. He just stood there.

And she just stared at him, with her glowing amber eyes, with her bloody stitched-together smile, with her stringy platinum hair that was more of a brown and crimson mix now than anything.

And finally, she lifted a hand. And she waved.

“Miss me, Babybird?”

tag list that never works lmao

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun

@xiaonothere

@skylathescholarly @flyrobinflyy

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orbitswritings · 2 years ago

Text

human!jake sully/fem!human reader Neteyam fic is still in works, I just wanted to take a break and push myself to quickly write something in a few hours without worrying about beta readers. so here’s something really self-indulgent that i had kicking around in my brain. let me know if i should continue (i mean i do want to i just like hearing other people say it) synopsis: reader works as a pencil pusher for the RDA and finds herself in a relationship with human!Jake Sully. Their relationship is on the rocks when Jake suddenly becomes a traitor for the Na’vi, forgetting about reader. unfortunately, she’s left in a position where she cannot forget about him.

(feat. Jake the dog and reader the human) c/w warning: blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smut. and jake’s kinda an asshole for now

The last time you saw Jake was right before he turned traitor.

His visits with you were already getting more and more spared, spaced out as the months went on. In the beginning of his deployment to Pandora you two were nearly inseparable, literally, wrapped in a tangled mess of blankets in your private quarters.

You were just a pencil-pusher and file manager, tasked with handling the never-ending information and data from several departments of the RDA. One day when delivering a stack of legal papers to the lead scientist Grace, the man seated in a wheelchair next to her, named Jake Sully, took an immediate interest. You did as well, although yours was more based on wanting to know why a buff marine guy in a wheelchair was doing around the other nerdy scientists. Jake’s was more coming from below the belt.

One night while laying in bed together after a session of sex, your hand aimlessly began running up and down his arms. His biceps used to be the size of your head, now he looked frail, malnourished. His body was practically wasting away. Jake now had been at least two months into his whole Na’vi thing. Yet you didn’t know any details since he was pretty tight-lipped about it all.

“Are you getting enough rest? Do you eat enough?” You asked with concern, stroking the hair out of his sweaty face. Jake had initially arrived on Pandora with the traditional military buzzcut, but now his hair had grown out, further adding to his ragged, disheveled appearance. “If not, I can write up a document for the food storage guys to give mor-” Jake just shrugged you off, turning away from you with a grunt of “mh fine.”

You’d later realize Jake was just using you to empty out all the cum and sexual frustration he would build up while gone. Word among the staff was the female Na’vi he’d been frolicking around with over the course of the few months was proving to be a tease. Unable to stomach thinking about what he was getting up to, you instead threw yourself into your work, trying to ignore the horrendous thoughts that clouded your mind.

You wish you had the guts to confront him on what would ultimately end up being your last night together, but you were just too lonely and so happy to see him after such a long time apart that you kept your mouth shut and legs open. All to just save the moment. Next time, though, you told yourself you would confront him.

That next time never came. In that time Jake Sully and his crew knocked over the chess board, turned traitor and proceeded to fuck over everyone. The plug on the whole operation was pulled, sending everyone packing onto their ships. Well, everyone except a few of his other human allies . . . . and you.

Not that he specifically asked for you to stay on Pandora. In fact you were sure he never even gave you a thought. What happened was when all the humans were being rounded up, you managed to slip off, going into hiding. There was a small, abandoned outpost, its existence having falling out of everyone else’s minds except yours, only being known by you due to your various dealings with files. It was similar to the one Jake and his gang had been stationed to in the Himalayan mountains, difference being luck for you it was within a day of hiking distance. There, you had everything you needed (for the time being). Filtered air, canned foods, jugs of water.

But why not go with the other humans? Being put into a tube of jelly for another five years and sent back to a dying planet with your sizable paycheck waiting for you in the mail was still miles better than sitting alone in some rundown old trailer on an alien planet where everything and anything can and will kill you, all the while slowly picking away at your limited rations.

It was simple. You weren’t alone, and your growing waistline was ever so slowly revealing it. Apparently the very last time you and Jake saw each other he was kind enough to leave you with a little going away gift, entirely unbeknownst to the either of you. The cheap condoms the company supplied did have an expiration date wasn’t to be taken lightly, but Jake had been out playing Na’vi for so long he completely forgot to grab new ones.

It was a hard rule that babies couldn’t be put in cryo, and being pregnant while in cryo lacked a lot of research for any factual statements but generally it was advised to avoid it. At that point you weren’t far along at all so either you were going to be tubed, putting both you and your baby at risk, or be forced to terminate.

Of course Jake couldn’t help you. He was too busy playing blue outlaw cowboy, rounding up the remaining RDA humans to ship them back to Earth.

But now, supplies were running low, and you knew this whole ‘pregnant while solo’ thing wasn’t going to be able to last much longer. Carrying was already hard enough. Giving birth alone was more of a horror movie plot than something you actually wanted to try out for yourself. So, you made the decision to finally bite the bullet, hook up the radio, and put out a signal to the other remaining scientists.

That same night you got a response back, the scientists on the other end both very surprised that another human was still on Pandora. They already knew you and so conclude you weren’t a die-hard RDA fan, making you not a threat to their operation. In the end, a helicopter was sent your way.

You were so grateful and relieved they agreed to come get you, you just wished they had told you Norm was going to be in his avatar form when picking you up. You nearly pissed your pants from the shock and blood-chilling fear that coursed through you when a gigantic blue alien suddenly appeared, peeking through your window.

The bump of your stomach acted as an elephant in the room, everyone on the helicopter doing their best to avoid looking directly at it as if doing so would cause permanent vision damage.

It wasn’t like they knew it was Jake’s, believing you two had ended your little fling long before the possible frame of conception, so that awkward topic was luckily avoided. Of course not all hard topics were off limits. They still asked you why you were here on Pandora, the unsubtle hint being they thought they had successfully chased out all the other dirty greedy humans from their prized forest playground. You were honest and gave them your reasoning, hoping it would squash any fears of other RDA agents lurking out there. They nodded in quiet understanding. You wanted to ask about Jake, how he was, but the fear of it possibly raising any sort of questions made you bite your tongue.

#jake sully x reader #avatar x reader #avatar imagine #avatar 2009 #jake sully #weird cliffhanger to leave off of but im tired and i wanna sleep

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