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harryspet · 3 days

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Fic or Drabble whichever you wanna do.

Dark bsf Rafe taking advantage of vulnerable pregnant reader. Maybe her parents kicked her out? Or her baby daddy left her. Or whatever u see fit.

(Sorry if that sucks I just love ur work sm 🩷)

homestead | r. cameron [p.1]

[warnings] dark!rafe cameron x pregnant!reader, farmer!rafe, pogue!reader, implied jj x reader, kidnapping, future NONCON/DUBCON, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

word count: 3.6k

In which you reach rock bottom after JJ gets arrested and your first love returns to save the day.

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A boy.

You looked down at your eighteen-week ultrasound picture and smiled weekly. You and JJ were having a baby boy, and you’d found out completely by yourself. Pope had offered a million times to attend one of your appointments, practically begging a few times because he didn’t want you to go alone. You always rejected him, as the idea of going with someone else never felt right.

The Heyward’s had already done so much for you by letting you live in their spare bedroom for, basically, your entire pregnancy. No matter how much Pope tried to tell you that they didn’t mind at all, you saw in their eyes that the last person they wanted their son to be friends with was JJ Maybank’s baby mama. You promised them you’d be able to save enough money to get your own place by the end of your pregnancy.

So far, your day job at a retail clothing store and the late shift you worked as a waitress at The Wreck made you enough to keep you afloat. Pregnancy check-ups and ultrasounds were an expense you weren’t initially expecting and you hated that you were contemplating skipping the next few visits to save money. Besides that, appointments meant you couldn’t work and you needed all the hours you could get.

The picture reminded you of how much hard work was left, but the feelings were bittersweet. You were so excited to meet your little boy, no matter how small he was at the moment. If JJ’s case would move a little bit faster through the system, he could be there for the big day too. Everyone in Kildare was biased against him, knowing his father too well, and you knew the system would be biased against him as well.

You were grateful for Pope and for knowing someone else loved JJ as much as you did. JJ wasn’t hard to love, but he was a complicated person, and your relationship seemed to bring out the darkest parts of him. Pope saw his dark side, but …he wasn’t there the night he got arrested.

You didn’t know someone could yell so loud or be so angry. The two of you were living with his Dad, and the first few months were relatively peaceful, mostly because Luke would usually go out at night, get wasted, and crash on some other part of the island. You and JJ usually played house, taking turns making dinner for each other and sleeping together side by side.

A week before you realized you were pregnant, Luke came around asking JJ for money that JJ “owed” him, and of course, JJ refused him. You knew he’d been saving for months to take you off the island for your birthday, and he wasn’t giving that up. The fight escalated, with both sides verbally tearing each other down. As soon as Luke mentioned JJ’s mother, there was no stopping JJ.

The fight had already moved from the bedroom to the kitchen to the porch, and then the men wrestled in the yard. JJ would’ve killed Luke if the police hadn’t come. When he got taken away in cuffs, he was a bloody, swollen mess that you didn’t even recognize.

It became even messier when Luke decided to press charges against his own son even though they’d both been arrested. You then decided that Luke Maybank was heartless and wouldn’t ever see what you saw in his son.

It was the weekend, your one day off, and you’d chosen to spend most of it walking to the nearby department store after your trip to the clinic. The Heyward’s wanted to spend the day out on the water but rides on the boat were starting to make you extremely sick. Besides that, you hated fishing and It was one of the hotter days of summer but you’d chosen a lightweight t-shirt dress. Well, dresses were starting to be the only thing that you fit correctly with your growing stomach.

You tucked the picture you were holding into your purse as you made your way inside. For the past month, you’d been working up the courage to go down the baby aisles. Yet another thing that felt completely wrong doing without JJ. Cara had also offered to help buy you things but you told her every time that you were waiting until you were closer to your due date. You’d hold off from nesting until you were sure that JJ wasn’t getting out.

Slowly, you looked over every item. Cribs, diapers, breast pumps, baby formula, bottle warmers, and bibs. It was all so overwhelming and you knew getting everything would be expensive but the price tag didn’t quite register to you until now. You had no idea how you were going to pay rent one day and afford all of the things your baby needed.

You picked up the cutest crib mobile decorated with rocket ships, stars, and planets, and your heart skipped when you realized it was over a hundred dollars. You’d have to work an entire shift to earn that.

“Y/N?”

You turned towards the deep voice and the mobile tumbled from your hands, “Shit,” You cursed as you went down with it, hoping you hadn’t broken it because you couldn’t afford to buy it. Rafe Cameron pushed his cart to the side and hurried to help you, “I got it,” You said quickly as you turned away, handing it back on its display.

Then you really looked at him. The boy you’d been so obsessed with in highschool was not a boy. His light brown hair was longer than you remembered but was tamed by a baseball cap. His white t-shirt and jeans didn’t match the version of him you had in your head, but, honestly, he looked better than you remembered.

He smiled, rubbing the stubble on his face, as he seemed to take you in. If Rafe looked ten times better, you probably looked ten times worse than you used to. You felt huge although people just started taking note of your bump a couple weeks ago and your hair was messily gathered away from your face. Your dress was not name brand, in fact, you remembered buying it from the exact store you were standing in and you wore boots that used to belong to JJ now that your feet were starting to swell.

“Hey,” He said.

You breathed out, “Hi.”

“Congratulations,” Rafe glanced at your belly and you wanted to crawl inside your own skin, “I guess?”

“Thanks,” You nodded, “It’s . . . complicated.”

The sad part about being pregnant, unmarried, with your child’s father sitting in jail was that people had no idea what to say to you.

“How are you?” He asked after you went silent.

“I’m good,” You forced a smile, “How are you?”

“Better now that I’ve ran into you,” His smirk was the exact same as you remembered, “You shopping for the little one?”

“Browsing,” You said, “Didn’t quite realize how expensive all this stuff is.”

You looked at him for understanding before you remembered you were talking to – Kildare’s richest bad boy, “You still keep all your little friends around?”

“Yeah, we’re all a bit spread out now, though. I’m staying with the Heyward’s right now.”

You weren’t quite sure why you were exposing your life to him, but part of you wanted him to know that you were fine, that you had made the right decision choosing JJ over him, and that you were still figuring out life, but you’d be happy.

“Oh, so it’s Pope’s baby?” The smug look on his face made you realize he was teasing you.

“You know exactly whose baby it is, Rafe,” You shot back, your eyes rolling back.

You turned to walk away but he grabbed you by your arm, “Y/N, I’m kidding. I’m kidding. I’m sorry, Honey.”

You quickly pulled your arm away from him, folding your arms in front of your chest. You looked over his cart, seeing it was filled with miscellaneous things, but the only thing you could recognize was a massive back of dog food, “You got a dog?”

“A few,” he said, placing his hands in his back pockets, “I use ‘em for animal herding. Wrangler, Sadie, and a few puppies.”

“Animal herding?”

“Yeah, I got this place on the mainland. I just came through to see Wheezie. I promised she could have one of the puppies before I sold the others.”

“You got a place on the mainland?” Your eyebrows raised, and you tried to keep your mouth from gaping, “Puppies?”

He nodded, laughing lightly, “Had to get my shit together after I got out of rehab and living with my Dad and Rose, it was just never good for me. Still working for him, but I’m just better on my own, you know?”

“I didn’t know you went to rehab,” You said quietly, still trying to process the information he was relaying.

“A few times to be honest but I’ve been clean for a year,” He admitted while looking a bit closer at you, “Is there anything you need right now? I can help.”

“No, I couldn’t let you do that,” You shook your head quickly, “I’m fine.”

“You never like to accept help, do you?”

“I don’t need anything right now,” You assured him.

“Hmm,” Rafe huffed, “Can I at least give you a ride, Y/N?”

“How do you know I don’t have one?”

He gave you a knowing look that made you want to punch him. He was new and improved Rafe, but he was still an asshole, “Well, I also came to look for a new living room rug, and I could use a woman’s perspective. Help me, and I’ll give you a ride back to the Heyward’s.”

“Whatever,” You shrugged before you began walking, “Fine.”

In his eyes, you could tell he thought he’d won.

This was so wrong. So, so wrong. JJ would kill you. JJ would kill him. This wasn’t high school anymore, and you weren’t the insecure girl vying for the rich bad boy’s attention. Besides that, you’d always been an option for Rafe. JJ always chose you despite where you came from; now you might have a real chance of having a family.

You blamed the way your body heated up when he spoke your name on your racing hormones and on the fact that you’d been separated from JJ for months.

Rafe said he only came to main island to visit Wheezie, but as the weeks passed, you realized he’d found a new reason to visit. At least two times a week, he came in to the Wreck to order food and talk to you. Not only that, he practically texted you daily checking in on you.

“Why the sudden change?” You asked him one night when closing time was closely approaching and you’d served all your tables, “I mean, I know you hated JJ but I didn’t think it would get in the way of, you know, us.”

“It’s my biggest regret after getting to know you again,” He admitted and the look in his eyes made your heart sink, “But I didn’t really know what I was doing when I was younger. I was so stupid, all I cared about was getting my Dad’s approval and I spiraled when that inevitably didn’t happen.”

He had a way of making you question all of your own decisions.

“Ward definitely wouldn’t approve of me now.”

“I told you I don’t care what he thinks.”

“Or what the entirety of Figure 8 will think?”

“Not at all,” He said.

“I care what my friends think.”

“You’re different than them now,” Rafe reached across the table to grab ahold of your hand as his blue eyes stared deeply into your eyes, “You have a great responsibility on your shoulders now. You have to do what’s best for you and the baby. That’s it, fuck what they think.”

“They do want the best for me,” You whispered, tears stinging your eyes.

“They want JJ for you. And he’s sitting in jail right now.”

You pulled your hand away, looking out the onto the dock and dark water.

“You don’t even know how you should be treated,” Rafe said mostly to himself.

“What does that mean?”

“It means–” He stopped himself, but his skin was flushed with red and you sensed he was calming himself down, “I just think you deserve better.”

“And you’re going to walk into my life after all these years and save me? I can do this by myself.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Rafe leaned in, “JJ’s going to get out but things aren’t going to get better.”

“Why would you say that?”

“It’s true, he’s a fuckup. He won’t get a good job and there’s a good chance he’ll go right back,” That tipped you over the edge and your chair scraped loudy on the ground as you stood up, ‘“I’m sorry. Look, I’m sorry. I can drive you home.”

“Pope is coming to get me.”

You didn’t spare him a second look as you walked to the back of the kitchen. Until now, he’d refrained from putting all the weight of his judgement on you but you knew all a long he thought you were making a mistake. He’d been through a lot but he’d never struggled like you and JJ had. At the end of the day, he’d always had Ward’s money to fall back on.

He just hated JJ and he was doing his best to get in between the two of you.

Two weeks later, you were standing outside the Kildare County Jail, not because you were visiting JJ but because he was being released. Luke dropped the charges against him, and they released lower offenders due to overcrowding. You watched a few reunifications and waited on a cold bench in the lobby; blue hydrangeas in a small bouquet sat neatly in your lap. Your dress was also blue and printed with daisies. He had no idea the two of you were having a boy, and it was your sweet idea of telling him.

You’d blocked Rafe’s number just that morning after ignoring his messages and calls. He was wrong. Even if he was calling to tell you that, you didn’t want to hear it. They never specified how long it would take to process him but you started to doze off after waiting for two hours. An officer in beige uniform tapped your shoulder lightly to wake you.

You were still hopeful and you expected to see JJ right behind him, “Hello, ma’am. Unfortunately JJ Maybank cannot be released today.”

“What?” Your eyes widened, “Uhm, why?”

“I was informed that additional charges have been filed against him.”

“What do you mean additional charges?” You asked, concern raising in your tone, “Who can I talk to?”

You when through every channel of communication possible, searching for answers. They couldn’t possibly expect you to leave like nothing happened. You found out from another officer, after heavy begging, that they filed another battery charge against him involving another inmate. Somehow, in the two days that he knew he was getting out he managed to catch another charge.

“Could I at least visit him?” You’d asked and they told you he was in a segregated unit now and not allowed visits.

You felt your heart physically break. When it fully started to sink in, you left to get fresh air. You walked for a long while until you started to panic. You sat down on the edge of the sidewalk and through teary eyes you tried to search for Pope’s number. What would you do now? Go back to the Heywards and continue to accept their charity? You were kidding yourself thinking you could do this alone.

It felt like a rejection. You’d never had a real family. JJ knew that and yet he’d left you all alone again.

You let your phone fall to the side, deciding you wanted to be miserable by yourself and you didn’t want to burden his family any longer. You threw the flowers into the street before your head fell in your hands and you finally let yourself cry for the first time since JJ had gone away.

The bouquet you’d carefully put together lay discarded in the street and you had no care about the mud that was probably staining your dress now. Just as your chest started to tighten unbearably, you heard the low rumble of car engine and a shadow seemed to drape itself over you. You heard someone calling you, telling you to breathe, but your body wouldn’t obey the instructions.

Your baby needs you to take a breath, you told yourself but the thought of your baby only made your guilt worsen, “I’ve got you,” You heard that familiar voice say. Being in his arms was far from familiar but your body didnt protest when it felt itself lifted in the air and placed on soft leather.

The next time you looked up, you felt the car moving, and you saw the sun setting through the window. You felt a hand on your thigh rubbing soothing circles but you felt more paralyze than anything, “Try to take deep breaths,” You heard him say but your body wasn’t yours to control, “Everything’s gonna be okay now. I’m going to take care of the two of you.”

You were not in the squeaky twin bed at the Heyward’s house when your eyes peeled open the next morning and you realized that quickly. You saw wooden beams overhead and walls painted a soft cream color. You turned your head to see sunlight coming through lace-curtained windows. As fast as you could move with the extra weight, you pushed the comforter off of you and moved over to the window. It offered a view of rolling fields and distant trees, the greenery stretching as far as your eyes could see.

Looking back around the room, you saw a sturdy, antique bed with wooden nightstands on either side. A handmade quilt with vibrant patches of red and blue sat on top of the bed. Plush pillows piled at the head of the bed. On top of one nightstand was a well-worn book and a framed photo of younger Rafe with a blonde woman beside him.

On the other nightstand was a vase of freshly picked wildflowers. You remembered your blue hydrangeas, and yesterday’s events came flooding back to you, “Fuck,” You cursed, and your eyes found the bedroom door. Before thinking about walking towards the door, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the large mirror, sitting on top of a wooden dresser. You were dressed in a white silk pajama top and bottoms, a tiny sliver of your belly poked out the bottom of the shirt, but otherwise, they fit you perfectly. All you could do was curse, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You moved quickly towards the door, but it opened before you grabbed the handle. You covered your mouth as a shriek left your lips.

Despite your startled appearance, Rafe appeared calm. His hair looked like it had just woken him up, and he wore a simple T-shirt and gym shorts. He closed the door behind him, acting as another barrier to your escape, “What the fuck, Rafe?”

He shushed you, “You need to stay calm,” He warned you, “There’s no point in getting riled up.”

“I was having a panic attack and . . . and you–”

“You needed to get away,” He raised his hands as if to show he wouldn’t cause you harm, “I took you home with me.”

“You took me home with you?” You spoke back to him, “I have a home. Why didn’t you take me back to the Heyward’s?”

“That’s not your home, Honey, and you know that.”

You shook your head, “You don’t get to decide that. Where’s my phone?”

“It’s wherever you left it,” Rafe shrugged, “You know, when you were having a panic attack on the side of the road. Alone and pregnant with absolutely no one looking out for you. Imagine if it wasn’t me who found you.”

Rafe looked annoyed like it was you who was crazy in this scenario. You tried to ignore the thought of him undressing you and putting you in these new clothes. The idea of that became harder as you watched his eyes trail from your feet, higher and higher, “Jesus Christ, you don’t even know how precious you are,” He came closer until you were stumbling back onto the bed, “I want you to stay here with me.”

“And if I don’t want the same?” You looked up at him.

“I’ll let you think it over. Give it some time,” He nodded to himself, “Are you hungry?”

You didn’t answer, only stared back, “I’ll make you something. I’ll be right back.”

He turned on his heel, and as you realized what he was doing, you hurried after him. He closed the door, and as you furiously turned the knob, you realized he’d locked it, “Rafe!” You screamed as you pounded on the door, “Rafe, please don’t do this!”

You felt your tough exterior melt away. This was serious. He was completely serious about keeping you here.

You rushed over to the windows next, throwing open the curtains, and found that they didn’t budge even as you pushed at them. You kept yourself from another panic attack, knowing that Pope would be looking for you right now. You never told him about Rafe … you were so concerned about him judging you that you next rold him. But if someone found your phone, they would know … but you had no idea what really happened to it.

As you started to pace, you suddenly felt a fluttering sensation. You stopped as you felt a tiny kick inside of you, an unmistakable movement that echoed throughout your whole body. Gently, you caressed your stomach. “I hear you,” you said through heavy breaths as your eyes moved around the room. It’s okay. I’ll figure this out. Don’t worry.”

Please let me know what your thoughts and predictions are! Reblog with a comment to be added to my taglist!

#dark fic #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x black!reader #outer banks smut #black!reader #obx fic #jj maybank #pope heyward

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meanbossart · 3 days

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What is your take on Astarion's relationship with his siblings?

I have put unreasonable amounts of time into thinking about what the dynamics were like during Cazador's reign in that house. I mean, imagine sharing the same tasks, bedrooms, and general experiences of abuse and duress with the same people FOR TWO HUNDRED YEARS. That's absolute madness. If any of you have had experiences with co-living with family under stress for any extensive amount of time, you know very well the levels of emotional 4D chess-ing that tend to take place as a result. You end up distributing so much frustration and anger around and often onto the very same people you will ultimately seek comfort from - this is that situation but blown up to impossible proportions.

So, "strained" doesn't really do justice as a descriptor here. I believe the family had a dynamic, ever-evolving hierarchy within itself, years-worthy of time where the spawn shifted alliances and made "cliques" within themselves - rebels would evolve into pushovers and trusted friends would turn into snitches. You had endless amounts of drama within the group and flies on the walls would witness them cut each other's heads off one day and sob into one another's laps the next.

Naturally I think all of them were resistant to the concept of being a "family" at first, but it's pretty much impossible to not develop family-like ties throughout that long of a period. Following Cazador's death, I believe there would be further splintering within as some want to maintain said ties and others are eager to cut them - seeing both their siblings and the relationships themselves as yet another painful reminder of what Cazador imposed upon them.

I think Astarion falls into the latter category. If he had his way, he would never see, speak, or think of his brothers and sisters again. And while the sibling nomenclature is a deeply-rooted habit, he doesn't think it holds any legitimacy whatsoever (whether or not that's the case in his heart is another matter).

Dalyria (the moon-elf physician, whom I have come up with a story, personality, background and motivations during several long showers that might not necessarily line up with yours, so, if anything of what I'm about to say seems pulled out of a hat, it's because it was) is the opposite. She has grown attached to the constant presence of her siblings and taken a mother-goose role upon herself. With the Exception of Leonard and Violet (more on that later) she has decided they are her responsibility and wishes the group would stick together.

I like to think that there's a lot of history between those two in particular. Obviously, the interactions between Astarion and his siblings are very brief, but It's enough to run with. Dalyria shows a lot of concern and understanding towards him and even pleads when he threatens Petras' life - again, I think she did a lot of trying to pragmatically keep the peace among them and genuinely grew attached to a few - Astarion being the main one of said few. You even get the smallest hint of a on-and-off intimate relationship with the way he derisively calls her by her nickname.

Also, Astarion very occasionally showcases enough emotional maturity that I could see him latching onto the one other person around who seems to have her wits about her, but he's still flawed enough that Dalyria can think of him as a younger sibling that needs her care. Not to mention that, to me, she demonstrates a penchant for moral superiority and a dash of a machiavellian outlook, based on her diary and her completely unapologetic initiative to kill a child on the small chance it would lead her to a cure - not any child either, but Leonard's child. I can totally see Astarion sympathizing and gravitating towards someone like that.

Which brings us to the rest of the siblings - I would wager that, at least by the end of it all, Leonard and Violet were the odd-ones out. As it tends to happen within any tight-knit group, when one succeeds by stepping over the others (even if the reasons for it are justifiable) that brews a lot of resentment and eventual exclusion. Leonard not only did that, but he apparently still held onto hope of future and family outside the Szarr house; wheter or not everybody wanted out, I think a us-versus-them mentality is unavoidable under those circumstances, and Leonard was looked down upon by the others in their respective ways for what he was trying to do.

Violet just seems like she had gone a little cuckoo to me. We get very little about her, but when I think of an adult woman playing childish pranks on her roomates while you are all stuck in what's essentially a human trafficking ring... I think of a person who's either just a very silly breed of evil or who has lost touch with reality, and the latter is more interesting, imo. I think no one liked her, not only because she was a nuisance but also because she became completely emotionally untouchable. I think both Violet and Leonard are spawn who did not survive long after they were all freed.

I'll stop here before I ramble on for another 8 paragraphs about Aurelia, Yousen and Petras (Oh Petras, my beloved), but, yes, suffice to say that I believe it was kind of complicated LOL

EDIT: Not me calling Leon "Leonard" this whole post. Sorry buddy, you look like a Leonard.

#ask #astarion #the spawn #dalyria #bg3 spoilers

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ungodlybre · 20 hours

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚Android!reader and Simon, who tf 141 discovers on one of their missions.⋆ ˚｡⋆˚

He's completely freaked, he's never seen anything like it. And there's supposed to be thirty million of you? Insanity.

"Freaky thing isn't it." Price chuckled, "Nice to look at but is a killing machine." He rattled on, poking at the flesh like material that made up the humanoids skin. Simon's nose twitched in confusion, keeping his comments to himself, he took a step closer examining the human like robot. There was no doubt it's creator took time with it, crafting every artificial lash and brow hair. He was intrigued.

"Looks too real, 's freaking me out," Johnny laughed, but it quieted quickly once he noticed his lieutenant touching the hair that was rooted into the bots 'scalp'.

" 'Genesis' it says," Gaz held the pamphlet in his hands, flipping through the pages, "What could that mean?" Standing next to Simon, he to began inspecting the pretty humanoid. "Could be the prototype." Simon commented, finally, breaking his silence. "That'd make sense." He agreed.

Was it rubber? or some kind of silicone? He ran his fingers over the tip of its nose, then over plush lips. "Freaky." He backs off eventually, eyes never leaving the ones that remained closed.

"Let's get this thing wrapped and sent." Price sighed. Simon nodded, following the steps of his colleagues, watching others rush in to wrap and box the mechanoid. A beautiful killing machine, he thought.

simon, please don't fuck the robot. i beg.

ʚthanks for reading!ɞ

#android!reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty smut #ghost headcanons #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #cod smut #cod x reader #call of duty #simon ghost riley x reader

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justagalwhowrites · 18 hours

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Bane of My Existence - A QZ Joel Miller One Shot

You and Joel Miller have never gotten along, always at odds whether working together or avoiding each other. But when a smuggling job goes bad, you discover that there might be more to his harsh demeanor than meets the eye.

Pairing: QZ Smuggler!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers; Joel is bad with emotions; hurt/comfort; canon typical violence; injury that's probably poorly handled because I don't medicine; vague threat of SA (not by Joel, not made to reader); unprotected vaginal sex. Joel carries reader but look... My Joels are all 6'5" and strong as hell, especially in life threatening situations. Man can carry anybody. I'm in love with him because he's a big strong man. No description of reader.

Length: 8.9k (sorry)

A/N: A lil one shot gift for my beautiful bestie @dundienominee :)

Full Masterlist | AO3

“Hell no.”

Of course Joel Miller said hell no to working with you. Of course he did.

You weren’t surprised at Joel’s reaction when his smuggling partner, Tess, brought you to their safe house in the QZ. He’d never been the president of your fan club.

“Joel,” she sighed.

“Fuck no,” he said. “Not bringin’ her anywhere, she’s a goddamn liability.”

“Joel,” she said again, sterner this time.

You, however, just smirked, watching him pace and glare at you, his face getting flushed as he did.

“She takes stupid fuckin’ risks,” Joel said. “She’s cocky, she’s…”

“Saved your ass from infected?” You asked, raising your eyebrows.

You knew you were adding fuel to the fire. Tess glared at you for it. Your smirk grew.

“Wouldn’t have been near the fuckin’ infected if it weren’t for you,” he snapped. “Not. Goin. With. Her.”

“Well, you don’t have a choice,” Tess said, standing up a little straighter and crossing her arms, staring her partner down. “She’s the one with the contact, they agreed to two people meeting them and she has to be one of them…”

“How the hell’d you make a contact?” Joel turned his full attention to you, his eyes molten hot and angry. “Anyone you touch ends up fuckin’ dead…”

“Oh fuck off,” you snapped before you regained your composure. “Don’t get pissy with me because big bad Joel Miller isn’t the top of the smuggling heap in the QZ…”

“I ain’t pissy!”

“…Not the top of the heap in anything at all, really…”

“That’s it!” Joel stalked over, looking like he wanted to slug you. Instead, he just put his finger in your face, a slightly unhinged look in his eyes. “You think I’m doin’ a goddamn thing with you…”

“You don’t have a choice, Texas,” Tess came and stood beside you, her arms crossed as she looked to Joel. “You burned the bridge we had with the FEDRA officer I need to buy off to get our next round of pills inside, I can’t go on this run because I have to deal with the mess you made when you couldn’t keep your shit together. We want to actually be set before shit gets snowed in for winter? We need her connection. So. You’re going, you’re leaving tonight, and you’re not going to fuck this up. Got it?”

His jaw tightened.

“Got it.”

“Good,” she looked to you. “Your contact knows you’re coming?”

“They do,” you said, serious now and completely ignoring the wall of muscle who was still standing uncomfortably close to you. “The walk back is going to fucking suck but it should be worth it. Good with the split?”

“Good might be a strong word for 60/40,” Tess said, shaking her head a little but grinning all the same. “But I’ll take it.” She looked between you and Joel. “Trusting you two to not kill each other out there. Don’t make me regret it. See you in a few days.”

She left the two of you there in the threadbare apartment without another word, Joel’s glare practically drilling a hole into your skull.

“Together again, eh Miller?” You smirked at him.

He didn’t respond. He just went and sat heavily on the worn couch before lying down and closing his eyes.

“What, didn’t get enough sleep?” You asked, going and standing over him.

“Slept fine,” he said, eyes still closed. “Just would rather spend the few hours we have before we leave the QZ not listenin’ to you.”

You rolled your eyes but took a moment to look at Joel when he wasn’t glaring at you.

It was a rare occurrence, seeing him when he wasn’t scowling and pissed. He let himself relax down into the cushions and the lines in his face eased. As much as you hated to admit it - and you did hate it - Joel was beautiful. Frustratingly so. What’s worse, he’d somehow gotten better looking in the years you’d known him. Jerk.

You’d first met him before you came to the QZ, almost 10 years ago now. You were holed up in your own little corner of Boston, doing your best to stay out of the way of FEDRA, infected and raiders alike.

It was basically a full-time job, even more so since you’d become the last person standing. A job that you failed at the day you met Joel Miller.

And, as much as he liked to blame you for it, he was the one who showed up in your corner of town. You’d been napping through the worst of the afternoon heat in mid-July when you heard a clatter: someone tripped one of your alarms.

“Fuckin’…”

He swore loud enough that you heard him from your perch and you watched him shake glass out of the wrinkles of his shirt.

“Someone’s here,” the second man said, much quieter. “That ain’t no accident…”

The two men moved slowly, cautiously, their rifles raised as they searched for whoever it was who set that trap. When you thought they were far enough away, you started to move, slowly and quietly, going to sneak up on them and take them out before they could do the same to you.

But as you drew close, you heard it. The clicking.

You gasped, close enough to the strange men that they heard it and close enough to the clickers that they did, too.

“Move!” The larger man snapped out of his moment of shock first, shooting forward and grabbing you and throwing you to the side before shooting at the incoming infected. You scrambled to get back up, fumbling to get the knife you’d been readying to thrust into that man’s back.

It turned out, you didn’t need it. At least, not for the infected. The two men made quick work of the clickers and turned to you, your knife raised and ready to take at least one of them down with you.

“The fuck are you doin’ out here?” The larger man said instead.

“The fuck do you think?” You snapped. “Go on, do it! Kill me, take my shit, whatever it is you’re going to do…”

“Don’t much like killing women,” he said, looking to the other man, their guns still in hand but pointed to the ground. They looked alike, these two. Like they could be related.

“What, because I’m a woman you think I’m not a threat?” You asked, brows raised before realizing that you probably shouldn’t be egging on the large, armed men in front of you.

“Not really, princess,” the younger man said, voice teasing, and you considered throwing your knife at him.

“Should count yourself lucky that we don’t,” the older man said. “Why don’t you come with us, out pickin’ up just a few things and then headin’ back to the QZ…”

“Right,” you scoffed. “Because I really wanna live under fucking FEDRA.”

“Guessing you want to live,” he said. “Got news for you, princess. Even we’re steerin’ clear of this area of Boston after this. Lot more infected than we bargained for. Your little hideout ain’t gonna be safe much longer. Assuming you want to keep on living, QZ’s your best bet.”

“And you’re just, what, inviting me along out of the goodness of your heart?” You scoffed. “Please.”

“Don’t much like killing women and don’t much like leaving people to die, either,” the other man said. “Seem capable enough. Come with us, at least out of this part of the city. Would rather not have you added to the infected population.”

You ground your teeth for a moment, considering. They could easily over power you. You were out numbered, out gunned and they were both large and strong.

But… you had been noticing more and more infected lately. You hadn’t left your hideout in almost two weeks and you were low on supplies. Part of the reason you hadn’t dared venture out in so long was the seemingly constant press of infected you could see from the best vantage points in your building. You’d been starting to worry that you wouldn’t have a good opportunity to leave for supplies again. And, if you did, you were starting to worry your home would be overrun when you got back.

These two were the closest thing you had to a safe option out.

So, you took it. The pair introduced themselves and you were right, they were related. Joel and Tommy Miller, smugglers who lived inside the Boston QZ. They were strong, smart, capable. Handsome, too, not that it really mattered. What mattered much more was your ability to keep each other alive.

And, it turned out, you were useful to them. Enough that they wanted you around as help for other runs outside the QZ. It made sense, you knew certain corners of the QZ better than anyone else seemed to. It had been your territory - at least, in some way - for a long time.

Then, it happened. You’d taken to calling it ‘the incident’ for lack of any better word. You were out on a smuggling run with Joel and another man, Harvey. In spite of the fact that you’d been working together for years, Joel had never really warmed up to you. He tolerated you at best and it seemed like growling was his preferred form of communication where you were involved but you always made it back to the QZ in one piece when you went out together. You watched each other’s backs - you were proud that your kill count was higher than his and that you were almost positive he’d be dead by now if it weren’t for you.

The three of you were at the edge of the city, heading to rendezvous with someone from a small settlement in New York State when you heard it, the first, distinctive shriek of infected.

Suddenly, there were dozens of them, maybe more than 100, far more than you were capable of handling even if you had unlimited ammunition.

And, like a fool, you froze.

You’d scouted ahead and saw no signs of them, no indication of anything more than one or two strays that had been ambling around. You had no idea where they’d come from or how they’d come to be here but that didn’t matter. They were here, they were bearing down on you and you couldn’t seem to make your body move, the shock of the sight making you completely shut down.

It was Joel who saved you.

“Move!” He’d grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and thrown you behind him as he fired at the infected, pressing back as quickly as he could while laying down cover fire. Harvey joined him, their guns up and blazing as you tried to force your body to listen to you. “Fucking run!”

Your limbs decided to obey then and you moved as quickly as you could, turning and firing behind you when it felt like you had a moment to spare.

But you misjudged that moment once. Just once, but that’s all it took. Infected were closer behind you than you realized and Joel dove in between you and the reaching, groping thing.

“Joel!” You shrieked, desperately trying to get a shot off that wouldn’t hit Joel as he strained to hold back the runner who was snarling near his throat. You were about to shoot when Harvey tackled the creature, knocking it off of Joel but into the mass of infected that was closing in quickly.

They swarmed him and he screamed and you took aim as Joel scrambled to his feet. He shoved you on before you could fire and you stretched to shoot around him but he nearly threw you away from the swarming monsters and your screaming companion.

“He’s gone!” Joel yelled as you stared at him, aghast. “He’s gone, we have to fucking move, now go!”

You kept turning, looking back toward the sound of the snarling and the screams.

“We have to go back!” you said. “We can’t just leave him like that, we have to at least shoot him we can’t just leave him, we…”

“You should’ve thought of that before you fucked up!” He kept pushing you forward, toward the QZ. “No point in gettin’ us killed to save a man who’s already dead.”

Joel had gone from seemingly finding you to be a nuisance to hating you then. He refused to even be in the same room as you let alone leave the QZ with you again.

It took you a long time, after that split, to figure out how to survive. You’d become dependent on the cards you got from smuggling to get by but you couldn’t leave the QZ on your own and expect to make it back in one piece, not with how things had devolved with raiders and infected in recent years. You found a small group who was going out from time to time - which is how you met Tess - and you cobbled together a living.

You never worked with Joel again.

At least, not until now.

You sighed and perched in the window, watching the QZ go by and thinking of the best way out of the city once the sun went down. You tried not to think about the likelihood that Joel would kill you while you were outside.

It was a long walk ahead of the both of you, 30 miles each way through infected no man’s land, not that raiders hadn’t been trying their damndest to get a foothold. But you had a connection there who had been growing marijuana and had a hell of a crop they were willing to trade for plenty of ammunition and antibiotics. You’d been orchestrating this trade with Tess for weeks, both of you carefully avoiding the sore subject of Joel. The initial plan had been you and her heading out but then Joel beat the shit out of a FEDRA guard for some imagined offense and they were suddenly without the connections they needed and suddenly, Joel became part of the plan. Lucky you.

Once darkness started to fall, you picked up a little stone that was stuck in the frame of the cracked window. You took careful aim and flicked it, watching it sail to hit Joel square on the forehead. He twitched in his sleep, grimacing, but he didn’t wake.

You looked around a moment, searching for something else to use against him. You found it in the form of a wad of paper that you had to stretch to reach but you did. You tightened the ball and aimed, throwing it. It didn’t make it quite as far, bouncing off his hands as they sat folded at the base of his chest. He didn’t even flinch at that.

“Dammit,” you muttered, looking around again. You found a rubber band then, perking up a little as you picked it up. You arranged it carefully on your fingers, pulling it back and aiming it like a gun, targeting Joel’s nose. His oddly beautiful nose. Not that you ever really thought that way about him, of course. You shot the rubber band and it flew, snapping right where you’d aimed it. He jerked awake and you turned quickly so it seemed like you were just looking outside into the night.

“Wha…” He mumbled.

You turned your head to look at him as he sat up, seemingly disoriented.

“You hit me with somethin’?” He asked.

“What would I hit you with, Joel?” You asked. “I was about to come wake you up, though. Can’t get a late start because of your lazy ass…”

“Show you lazy…” he muttered, hefting himself up off the sofa. “Let’s move.”

You gave Joel this much, the man was efficient. You’d forgotten just how efficient in the years it had been since you’d last worked together. He cut through the QZ quickly and smoothly, the knowledge of routes run by FEDRA guards seemingly innate as he knew exactly when and where to avoid and how to do it. In what seemed like no time at all, you were outside the walls and starting into the ruins of the city.

“Got a safe house about an hour’s walk,” he said, setting an almost punishing pace as you moved alongside him. “We get there, wait for daylight, press on in the morning.”

“Oh, because you’re the decision maker?” You asked, brows raised, even though you agreed with him. “Just expect me to fall in line…”

“You know what, princess?” He rounded on you, forcing you back into the wall of a building you were passing. “You’re lucky I came out here with you after the shit you’ve pulled…”

“Shit I pulled? I fucked up!” You all but yelled at him. “I know it! I think about that all the fucking time, that he’d still be alive if it weren’t for me! I don’t need you to fucking remind me, I know what I did and I’m sure you’re fucking perfect and that no one’s ever died because you fucked up…”

“You don’t know a goddamn thing,” he growled, pressing closer to you for a moment and his eyes were dark and dangerous. For a moment, you thought he might kill you. Or kiss you. He didn’t do either. Instead, he just stepped back, looking you up and down once. “Keep your shit together this time. Don’t want to die because of you.”

Tears burned your throat and eyes and you swallowed them and walked a few steps behind Joel, trying to keep an eye out for signs of infected and raiders and trying to make sure that Joel didn’t die. Even if it was just out of spite.

The next day was easier than you expected, too. You made it quickly out of the safe house in the morning and dodged a hoard of infected, skirting around the writhing mass of them lying on the street. You didn’t really feel like you could breathe until you were outside the city, where the air was cleaner and you didn’t feel the specter of what happened years ago looming over you.

You and Joel mostly ignored each other, watching the tree line as you kept an eye out for whatever might be lurking for you there. But, every now and then, you thought you caught Joel looking at you out of the corner of your eye, his head snapping around the moment you seemed to take notice.

After walking for most of the day and covering 20 miles, the two of you stopped and made camp, Joel deeming it safe enough to make a small fire. You watched him after the two of you had eaten and settled, the light casting flickering shadows on his face.

Joel, you were almost loathe to admit, was an incredibly good looking man. There was a roughness to him that you found almost comforting in the world you were both trapped in but there was beauty to him, too. The symmetry of his features, the plush of his lips, the cut of his jaw. You wondered what he was like before all this, not just when he was younger but before this world had a chance to sink its teeth into him. Maybe you would have been friends then. Maybe something more than friends.

“How’d you end up smuggling?” You asked, not able to keep sitting here in silence any more.

“What?” He asked, looking up from where he was cleaning his gun.

“Smuggling,” you said. “Doubt you were born a smuggler and you don’t seem like you were a drug mule or something in the before times. How’d you end up doing it?”

“How does anyone end up doin’ anything?” He asked. “Needed cards, people needed drugs. If people want to pay me for ‘em, I’m not about to argue.”

“So that’s it,” you said. “You woke up one morning and thought to yourself ‘I think I’m going to tell FEDRA to fuck off today by running drugs’ and started a whole new career.”

He sighed but didn’t say anything.

“I don’t buy it,” you continued, sitting back against the tree you were propped against. “There’s something else…”

“Not your business if there is.”

“So there is something else!” You said, almost smug. “I’m on the right track, excellent.”

“You always this nosy?”

“Usually,” you said. “Let’s see… Maybe Joel Miller just likes an excuse to hit things.” He scoffed but didn’t say anything. “Not that? Interesting… Maybe Joel Miller gets off on breaking the rules. Is that it? You have authority issues?”

“Can we go back to not fuckin’ talking?” He asked.

“Not authority issues then,” you nodded, ignoring him. “Well, that leaves just one other theory.”

You were quiet, looking away from Joel and fighting the urge to smirk as you did. It only took a minute of silence before he sighed.

“Goddammit,” he said. “What. What’s your theory.”

You let the smirk happen then, looking back at him.

“That Joel Miller doesn’t feel alive unless he’s about to die,” you said. “And that Joel Miller needs to feel something so he decides to do the thing that almost kills him because what else is there to have?”

He watched you for a moment, his eyes hot and angry, before he looked back at his gun.

You laughed once.

“So predictable…”

“And why do you do it?” He asked, looking up at you, the rage barely contained on his features. “Must have a reason, right? Livin’ outside the QZ as long as you did, fuckin’ around outside it now, what is it? You got some kind of death wish?”

“Yes,” you said, looping your arms around your knees. He blinked at you in surprise for a moment and you laughed a little. “I’m not nearly as mysterious as you, it’s not some secret…”

“Why?” He cut you off, gun set aside now. You frowned but he pressed on. “You got a life, why do you want to just throw it away…”

“You call what I have a life?” You asked, brows raised. “Never thought you’d be so generous in regards to anything related to me…”

“Ain’t it?” He asked. “Sure, it’s not what it was before, can’t just do what we did then but…”

“You think that’s it?” You gaped at him. “That I miss being able to go to fucking happy hour with my coworkers or grab dinner at Chili’s so I might as well drop dead?”

“That’s not…”

“I lost people, Joel,” you snapped. “I know everybody did but when I say I lost people, I mean I lost everyone. By the time you and Tommy found me, there wasn’t a single person left on Earth I knew. My parents turned in the outbreak, they bit my brother and his wife and their daughter. I survived with my fiance for a while but he got shot by a FEDRA officer when we were trying to make our way to the fucking QZ and then I was alone. I stayed out there because, what, was I supposed to go live with the people who killed him? No thanks. What the fuck is there? So yeah, you know what? I smuggle shit. I like the risk. I like telling FEDRA to fuck off. I like being able to handle myself because I’m the only thing I can count on. Don’t act so fucking surprised that I’m not thrilled with life in the QZ just because you brought me there.”

Joel was quiet for a moment and you just squared your jaw and looked away, arms crossed tightly over your chest. You knew you shouldn’t let Joel get to you the way he did - especially not after you’d picked at him and pushed him here - but he got under your skin the way no one else left alive really seemed to. You hadn’t spoken to anyone about your fiance, not in years. It was a wound you’d long set aside, a casualty in the war on humanity that had hollowed you out so much that it seemed like you couldn’t really feel anything unless you were on the edge of your own destruction. Or, apparently, picking a fight with Joel fucking Miller.

“Could be worse,” he said eventually.

“Yeah, well.”

“M’sorry.”

You looked at him then, brows knitted together.

“What?”

“Said I’m sorry,” he said, voice a little gruff. “Didn’t… didn’t know. Wasn’t trying to… I’m sorry.”

You blinked for a moment, trying to get your bearings. Of everything you’d expected to hear out of Joel Miller’s mouth, I’m sorry wasn’t it.

“I’m sorry, too,” you said eventually. “If you want to talk…”

“I don’t.”

“Right,” you nodded. “Well…”

“I got first watch,” he said, picking his gun back up. “Get some sleep.”

The next day, you reached the trade you’d arranged, the woman you’d run into a few times when outside the QZ there with her partner. They hauled so much marijuana out - wrapped tightly in old newspaper - that they had to use wagons to carry it all. You unloaded your haul and the trade went smoothly, Joel lurking toward the back and standing guard, keeping a surly watch over the whole proceeding the entire time. It took some doing to pack all the pot into your bags but you managed it, thanking the couple and starting back toward the QZ.

You were close to where you’d stopped the night before when it happened, the snarl of infected crawling over your skin.

“Fuck,” you slung your rifle down from its place over your shoulder and turned to where the sound was coming from, seeing a cluster of at least a dozen infected moving for you. You shot, catching the first in the head and you watched it drop.

“Go!” Joel yelled, planting his feet and taking aim.

“Fuck you!” You snapped, ignoring him and shooting. “I can handle myself.”

He growled at that but didn’t say anything else. Instead you stood with him, side by side, trying to pick off the group that was charging for you. For a moment, you thought you’d done it, that you were in the clear.

And then, Joel’s gun jammed.

You realized it when you didn’t hear any more gunfire coming from beside you as the remaining infected drew closer.

“Joel!” Your eyes darted his way and you saw him trying to force the lever back, to no avail. He looked to you and the infected and back to you, his jaw squared.

“Get back to the QZ,” he said, not giving you a chance to respond. Instead, he charged forward, gun held not like a firearm but a staff and he swung it, hard, so the butt of it slammed into the skull of an infected as three others dove for him.

“Fuck!” You yelled, ignoring him again. Like hell he was going down out here like this, like fuck you were letting this asshole die for you. You took careful aim, taking down infected that you were confident you could headshot without putting Joel at risk, just one bullet going wide and exploding on the bark of a nearby tree, the rest finding their mark. And then he was on the ground, just one infected left, too close to him for you to be able to shoot and it wasn’t that you chose to do it, not really. It was more like instinct, flying forward, shedding your backpack and dropping your gun as you did, wrenching your knife from its place at your hip and jumping onto the back of the creature, your arms going around its neck as you yanked back on it, hard.

Your weight threw it off balance and it shrieked, starting to claw at you, twisting in your hold to see if it could sink its teeth into your skin. It bit as best it could at your arms but the thick of your coat kept it from getting any further and you struggled to adjust your knife to drive it into the thing’s neck but you couldn’t get it, not without letting it go.

“Goddammit!” Joel was panting for breath and you could barely see him out of the corner of your eye as he scrambled to his feet. You tightened your grip on the infected, the stink of the rot of it from the inside out making you gag, and it slammed you back into a tree, catching you off guard. You barely registered the sound of your skull hitting the wood before you passed out.

***

You didn’t listen. You never fucking listened, why could you never fucking listen?

You were the single most infuriating person Joel had ever met. Stubborn as hell, independent to a fault, seemingly desperate to pick every fight you could find. Of course you didn’t fucking listen to him. You never had before, why would you start now?

Seeing you that close to infected - again - was terrifying.

This was why he didn’t want to go out like this with you. This, right here. Because he knew you wouldn’t listen, he knew you’d wind up in this situation, knew he’d have to deal with the fear and the pain of you dying when it was his fucking fault why couldn’t you just fucking listen?

He’d thrown himself at the infected to give you a chance. One of you was probably going to die out here and he wasn’t about to let it be you. Not when he’d already done so much, gone so far to try to make sure you fucking survived. Because dammit, if he couldn’t make sure one of the few people he actually cared about actually lived, what was the damn point?

But did you take the chance he was giving you? No. Of course you didn’t.

And all he could do was watch in horror as the thing you’d jumped on top of slammed you into a tree with a sickening thud, one he could hear above the snarling and snapping of jaws. Your body went limp and you slid from its back to the earth, landing in an unnatural looking way. No one who was in control of their limbs fell like that. His blood was ice and he moved without considering, roaring as he ripped his knife from his belt and tackled the infected who was turning to go after your throat. He hit it so hard he rolled with it, the creature’s mouth reaching for him as he held it back. They came to rest on the ground, that thing on top of him and Joel slammed his knife into its neck again and again, until it went quiet and still and Joel was bloodied and panting for breath.

He shoved it off him and he half crawled to you as he got to his feet, not willing to wait until he was standing to start moving. You were still when he reached you, your head thrown back, half on your side, mouth open.

“No, no, c’mon,” he pulled your coat open to get at your chest to try to do what he thought was CPR - not like there were fucking certifications for it in the QZ - but, when he did, he realized you were breathing. He lowered his head near your mouth and could hear the soft, shallow sound of your life and he sat back on his heels, taking a deep breath.

So he hadn’t gotten you killed. Not yet, anyway. At least there was that. He let himself sit with the relief for a moment before checking you over, looking at your throat and wrists for signs of a bite but didn’t find any. Another lucky moment.

“Alright princess,” he said, tapping your cheek lightly. “C’mon. We gotta get movin’, let’s go.” You stayed still. His stomach twisted. “Know you like to fuck with me but now ain’t the time, we need to get out of here, time to wake up…”

He half expected you to respond then. You’d love this, the fact that he was damn near panicking because you were hurt. He knew you’d want to draw it out.

But you wouldn’t be stupid about it. You wouldn’t put them at risk, not really.

“Fuck,” he swore, adjusting your limp body as best he could before lifting you to his chest. The hair at the back of your head was matted with blood. He tried not to think about what that might mean. “S’alright. You’re gonna be fine, just… You’ll be OK.”

He kept thinking that, over and over, as he carried you, looking for somewhere he could protect you for a while.

It took him time to find it, a farmhouse with overgrown fields that looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. The door was hanging open, creaking on its hinges, and Joel brought you to the kitchen island, setting you gently on the dust-covered formica.

“Stay there for a minute,” he said, leaning against the counter to recover his strength and his breath for a moment. “Gotta… gotta make sure we don’t got company.”

He went through the house room by room, barricading the doors on the ground floor and pleasantly surprised to find most of the top floor intact, no holes in the roof or broken windows. He gathered some blankets from the main bedroom and carried them down to where he’d left you. He propped your head up gently, pouring some water on a cloth and cleaning the cut there with care before covering you with a quilt and pulling a kitchen chair up beside you. He checked to make sure you were still breathing before sitting down, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, hands folded almost in prayer.

He should have told Tess to fuck off. He knew better, when it came to you. There was a reason he’d avoided you ever since that day everything had gone wrong. Hell, he’d been avoiding you before that, too.

From the moment he’d met you, he liked you a little too much. You were the exact kind of woman he’d gone for before, one who was capable and strong and a total fucking smart ass. He liked a woman who challenged him, one who made him think. You did those things, you did those things like it was second fucking nature, all while being one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, before the outbreak or after.

He knew he had to keep his distance from the beginning, that he’d get too attached if he let himself. But you were a valuable partner, so he did his best to keep you at arm’s reach while going on runs with you and his brother. He thought that had been enough, that he’d done a good job of protecting himself from the disaster that waited at the end of any form of attachment in the life he led now.

And then he saw you freeze in the face of infected.

He was so afraid in that moment that it shocked him how fast he made the call. The decision to put his body between you and the infected was an easy one. He wanted to make it back to the QZ, to his brother he’d found some reason to live for over the last few years, but he wouldn’t want that if you didn’t come back, too. But you didn’t fucking listen then, either, too busy trying to do the same damn thing he’d have done in your position. If you hadn’t been with him, he’d have tried to save Harvey. He was a good man, he’d watched Joel’s back plenty, Tommy’s too. He deserved a better end than the one he got.

Joel just couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk you.

He let himself rage at you about it. Even though it wasn’t your fault, none of it had been. He’d known it then but even more so after. Years later, outside the QZ, he watched as a large hoard worked its way south for the winter, just passing through. You couldn’t have seen them coming, no one could have.

He never told you that. Because, after the day you froze, he was far enough away from you that he wasn’t going to have to watch you die and he wasn’t going to have to carry the blame if you did. He couldn’t do that again. He knew that much of himself, he knew what he wasn’t capable of surviving. If you were out of reach, he’d have room to breathe.

But you were still leaving the QZ. He hadn’t known that, at first. He’d just assumed you’d stay put and take the shitty jobs FEDRA offered to get by. He hadn’t even known that Tess knew you, not for years. It wasn’t even her that told him you were still smuggling, it had been a FEDRA guard. He’d overheard your name when Tess was handling a trade and put two and two together. He damn near marched over to your apartment that second and demanded to know what the fuck you were thinking. But he didn’t. He kept it together, he kept listening for news of you, kept waiting for the day that he knew was waiting for him, the one where you didn’t come back and he’d find out about it from some other smuggler or some asshole guard who found out when you didn’t show up with his supply of pills.

And then your name came up when he was trading with a FEDRA guard. It was a small deal, some pills for cigarettes and liquor, just enough for one guy. He was a new client of Joel’s, one he was happy to have. His demand was low and he was good leverage for bringing shit through the gates, turning a blind eye for a good deal on drugs. He just hadn’t seemed to learn quite yet that Joel wasn’t a friend.

“You know other smugglers, right?” He asked, glancing at Joel as he counted the pills out in his palm. As though Joel was stupid enough to short change a fucking FEDRA officer.

“Suppose,” Joel shrugged. “Why?”

“There’s this one…” he talked about a woman who was coming and going, one who was cocky and beautiful and hadn’t caved to his demands for sex the last time she came through and he tried to blackmail her. Joel ground his teeth but kept quiet as he prattled on, eventually pocketing the pills and handing over the cigarettes and booze. “Anyway, wondering if you think she’s the type who’ll give in or should I stop wasting my time and just take it?”

Joel’s hands curled into fists.

“Take it?” Joel asked. “Take what, exactly.”

He looked at Joel, incredulous.

“C’mon,” he said. “You know. They never fight too hard against a uniform but it’s more fun when they’re at least a little willing.”

Joel’s punch came so quickly the man didn’t have time to put his hands up. He took him to the ground fast, blow after blow raining down on the man’s face until the air smelled like copper and his knuckles were split. The man gargled on his own blood below him, desperate gasps that sounded something like “please” but he couldn’t be sure. Joel grabbed him by the collar, his head lolling limply to the side as he tried to breathe. One of his teeth was hanging on my a thread.

“Keep your fuckin’ hands to yourself,” Joel panted. “Tell your fuckin’ friends. I hear about any of you messing with women around here? I’ll kill you.”

Joel dropped him back to the ground and flexed his fingers. He thought he might have broken part of his hand. Wouldn’t be the first time. At least this one was worth it.

“Pleasure doin’ business with you,” he said, fishing around in the man’s pocket and taking a pill from him. He popped it in his mouth, chalky and bitter on his tongue. “For my trouble.”

He left the man there in the alley, knowing full well that he’d just shot his whole team in the foot. He didn’t much care.

The irony that it had landed him here, outside the QZ with you unconscious and your haul on the forest floor was almost too biting. Maybe he deserved it. Maybe he’d been doing this wrong all along.

You groaned and Joel’s head shot up as you started stirring on the counter, your hand going to the injured part of your skull.

“Easy,” he said gently, getting up slowly so he wouldn’t startle you. “Took a nasty hit to the head, you were out for a while.”

“Ow.”

Joel laughed a little at that.

“Glad you think it’s funny,” you said, sitting up. He rushed to help you and you gave him an incredulous look as his hands found your back and your hand. “Jesus, I feel like I got put through a meat grinder…”

“Well, s’long as you ain’t bitten, think we can handle that,” he said, taking his hands back now that you were sitting up.

“Amen to that,” you said, stretching a bit before looking him over and then looking around, a small frown on your face. “Where are we?”

“Farmhouse,” Joel said, shoving his hands in his pockets just to give them something to do. “Think about a mile from where we were. Can find our way back OK. I’ll have to, your pack is still out there.”

“Shit,” you said. “Yeah, we can’t afford to come back without it, I traded my entire stash for my share of the pot…”

“We’ll find it,” he said. “Don’t think anyone else is comin’ through here any time too soon.”

You nodded slowly before looking back to him, your eyebrows knitting together before you flinched, your hand going to the back of your head again.

“Will you actually listen for a change and take it easy?” He asked, going to check the wound. “Jesus, bane of my fuckin’ existence, not doing a goddamn thing I tell you…”

“Why are you still here?” You asked, ignoring him yet again, fingers finding the gash on your head and tugging at it until it started bleeding again. Joel sighed before pulling your hand away. “Hell, why’d you bring me here at all? You just said I’m the bane of your existence, why the fuck did you go through this much trouble? You could have just left me there, taken my pack, kept all the haul for yourself…”

“You really think I’m capable of that?” He asked, brows raised. He knew he hadn’t exactly been kind to you over the years but fuck, he didn’t think it was that bad. He pressed the wet cloth to your head again, watching as the red filtered over it.

You shrugged.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Yeah, alright, you piss me off more than… shit, about anyone else I’ve ever met. You’re the bane of my existence…”

“So…”

“Will you let me talk?” He snapped. “Fuck, woman, always gotta be right, always gotta have the last damn word, always gotta do whatever’s gonna get you into the most trouble…”

“Oh, I’m so sorry that I managed to save your fucking life today,” you snapped back. “Please forgive me!”

“I don’t want you saving my life if it costs you yours!” He yelled.

You pulled back from him sharply, eyes wide as you blinked at him in shock. He shook his head and pulled the cloth away from your skin. At least the bleeding had stopped again.

“Don’t fuck with it anymore,” he said, dropping the bloody fabric to the counter. “Gotta leave it alone so it can start to heal, head wounds bleed like a motherfucker…”

“Joel,” you said quietly, watching him.

“What.”

“Joel,” you said again, eyes still on him. “You… What did you mean you don’t want me saving your life if it costs…”

“I don’t…” He cut you off before he took a deep, centering breath. “I don’t want anybody dying for me but… Christ, it can’t be you. Yeah, you’re the bane of my existence, you piss me off so much sometimes I swear it’s like you got a goddamn degree in just how to do it but you make me feel more alive than anything else left and I can’t…” His heart was pounding so hard it felt like a bruise. “I can’t lose you, especially not when I could stop it. Not when I could save you. I need you to stay alive, OK? I don’t want anyone else to piss me off the way you do, I want you to be the one getting under my skin every goddamn day…”

“Joel…”

“Still not gonna let me finish?” He gaped at you. “Fuck, I’m tryin’ to…”

You didn’t let him finish that time, either. Instead, you kissed him, your arms going around his neck and pulling him roughly against you, your lips so soft and warm and demanding on his that it felt like you were trying to swallow him whole.

It was like the logical part of his mind only worked for half a second after that. He knew, in that moment, that he should probably hold you back. Talk things out, make sure you didn’t hurt yourself - you’d just had a head injury for fuck’s sake - but that part of him vanished, consumed by you and the way you kissed him like you were trying to climb inside his skin.

His arms went around you, pulling you to the very edge of the island so your pussy was pressed tight against his quickly hardening cock.

He couldn’t help but grind himself against you, the zipper of his jeans harsh contrast to just how soft he knew your pussy would be and the last bit of resolve he should have held snapped. Your fingers fumbled at the snaps on his coat, pulling it open before going to the buttons on his shirt and he did the same, desperate to get at your skin and suddenly not caring that it was nearly freezing or that the two of you had nearly died not all that long ago.

His hands found your breasts, sliding inside the cups of your bra to cradle the soft warmth of them and you moaned into his mouth when his thumbs found your nipples, gently brushing them before working them in little circles as they pricked against his skin.

Joel had tried to not think about this with you. It was tempting, always tempting, but he knew better. He tried to limit his thoughts of you to frustration and anger but he often failed at that. He had failed at it often enough that he had an idea of how you would feel in his hands, how you would taste on his tongue. He thought he would have known enough to be prepared for it if it ever happened.

He wasn’t.

You were, somehow, so much better than he’d ever let himself imagine. You were so goddamn soft, like the whole of you had been spun out of silk, tenuous and tender. There was something almost inherently wrong in how he was touching something as soft as you but he shoved that nagging guilt aside, too obsessed with feeling more of you. If this was how your tits felt in his hands, how your lips felt on his, how your hands felt in his hair, he had to feel inside you. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to think about anything else if he didn’t get to be inside of you, his mind would always be trying to create the way you would feel, to know how warm you would be, how safe he would feel in you and how calming it would be to know that you were safe, too, because nothing could reach you if he was there inside you, nothing.

His hands reluctantly left your breasts and slid down to your waist, finding the button on your jeans. You quickly, clumsily kicked off your boots and lifted your ass from the countertop so he could slide your jeans and panties down, leaving you all wet and swollen and bared for him.

“Fuck,” he panted, looking down at you for a moment before reaching one callused finger forward and almost reverently tracing your dripping slit. You groaned, your head going back in pleasure, your hips almost jumping toward him.

“Joel,” you whispered, voice so goddamn needy. The sound went straight to his cock, skin stretched tight and balls aching. “Please…”

“I’ve got you baby,” he said, opening his pants and tucking his jeans and underwear below his throbbing sex. “Make you feel so good, just…”

He took his cock and brushed the head against you and you looked down to where he was about to push inside you and gasped.

“Holy fuck,” you panted, looking at him, your eyes wide. “Joel, you’re… Are you going to fit?”

“I’ll fit, baby,” he said, looking down again and notching the head of him inside your wet heat. You groaned as you stretched around him, fingers digging into the skin at his nape. He pushed the first inch of himself inside and stopped, looking back to you. He took your face his hand and your eyes searched his, desperate longing written there. “Just watch me, I’ve got you.”

You didn’t say anything, you, just nodded quickly. His other hand went to the small of your back, angling you just so as he started to thrust into you, pushing in a little and then pulling back before going again, claiming more and more of you with each stroke until he was fully within you. He stilled inside you and pressed his forehead to yours, your eyes on his own, close enough that he could feel the warmth of your breath on his skin.

He’d been right. Inside, you were fucking perfection. He could feel how you stretched over him, how your body perfectly took and held his own. You were so soft there it seemed impossible, like the world should have destroyed anything this delicate and supple. But you felt so like you, too. The heat of you was almost overwhelming, the strength of you sharp and clear when your cunt fluttered over him, already nearing your orgasm with telltale little spasms holding him tight. He wanted to consume you and be consumed, devour and be devoured and he needed to fuck you deep and hard and leave part of himself inside of you or he might never think of anything else ever again.

“Fuck, Joel,” your breaths were sharp and shaky. “I’m so… you’re so big, I’m so full, I… You have to move, I need you to fuck me, please fuck me, please, I need…”

“I’ve got you, baby,” he said, gently angling your head just so. “Give you just what you need.”

He kissed you as he started fucking into you, setting an almost punishing pace as he moved inside you. He drank down your desperate groans, savored the way your fingers scrabbled over his shoulders and neck and back, got lost in the spread of your thighs as you kept trying to take him somehow deeper. As if there was more of you for him to take, as if there was more of himself to give.

Your channel grew tight over him and he knew he wasn’t going to last once you came but he was afraid he wasn’t going to even make it that far. He’d already given up on pulling out, he’d deal with the whatever fallout came from filling you up, but he had to feel you come when he was inside you. He was desperate for it, needed to feel how you’d draw so tight over him and pull his come from his body into yours, he needed it. He drove deep and found the spot inside you that made your legs clench a little tighter, fingers clutch a little harder. He pressed into it and held himself there, more rocking into you than fucking into you, grinding the head of him into the very softest part of you as your cunt drew tighter and tighter over him and you pulled away from his lips to cry out as you came. You throbbed around him and he could feel every part of you there, the pulsing of your body and the satisfaction of your cries damn near ripping his own orgasm from him.

He pulled you close and tight as he came, feeling like his whole being was pulled down low and sharp inside him as he spilled deep into you. Your arms loosened on him but you still held him gently as he all but collapsed into you, his head on your shoulder as he panted for breath.

“Fuck,” he managed after a moment, still deep inside you.

“Yeah,” you laughed a little.

He sat back from you, eyes searching yours again now that you’d both started coming back down to Earth. You reached up and ran your fingers through his curls, brushing them back from his face as he started to notice the cold air again for the first time.

“Bane of your existence, huh?” You asked, teasing lightly.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling a little. “My whole damn existence.”

You smiled a little back.

“Think I can work with that.”

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #smut fic #enemies to lovers #joel miller one shot

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foreverisntenough · 2 days

Text

‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

INDEX

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestion, SMUT (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, parenting, mental health struggles, eating disorder, self doubt, body image issues, daddy kink, angst, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! Try not to nitpick with any real pregnant/ baby logistics it’s better if you just read along happily :)

Warning! This chapter focus on mental health struggles and body image issues (depression and ed) It’s a little dark so if that is at all potentially triggering to you please be advised and do not interact.

Chapter 20 - Miss Mama | ‘Ours’

“She’s okay? God, please tell me she’s okay.” Trent asked in a voice that was heart wrenching. Lauren felt her heart shatter listening to him sound so meek and broken.

“Erm… physically so so, emotionally, T, I’ll be honest it’s not good. I know she fucked up but this isn’t good for you two to be apart. I’m worried.” Lauren croaked out. “I’m here with her now but….” She tried to begin to provide some sort of update but Trent cut her off.

“I need her to be okay, Lauren. I can’t have her like this. I need her. She… She’s my whole world. I am nothing without her. I’m so worried. I was the one that caused all of this. I need her to be okay.” He started to cry. Lauren could hear the gasps for air and sniffles through the phone. “I.. God, I l..love her so much.” Trent began to stutter interspersed between his tears. Lauren hadn’t really ever heard him cry but she understood wholeheartedly how upset he must’ve felt because she was feeling pretty much the same way.

“I know… I know you do, T. I think she needs to come home. She needs you. Seriously, I know you guys have a lot to unpack after what’s happened but being away from you, from Teddy… it’s killing her. She’s… she’s not well.” Lauren didn’t know how to describe or even articulate your current state. You were gaunt, your face didn’t have the glow it did when you were with him or your baby. Lauren had seen this version of you before though unfortunately. She hadn’t seen it in years but she’d never forget it. Since Trent entered your life there had been an incandescence about you. Sure, you had dips, everyone does but he was there now to hold you through it all. She recalled an ability you had that she hated to morph your body to completely display your emotional state. Your mental condition contorting into a physical one. “T…” Lauren whimpered, starting to cry. “This isn’t the first time this has happened, I know she’s told you. You’ve been so good for her, you’ve changed her whole outlook on life, you treat her the way she deserves to be treated. I’m just worried because this isn’t the first time I’ve had to do this.” Lauren took a deep breath.

“I am made for her. I know that. That is my purpose. I am supposed to take care of her and cherish her and I was mad, I was upset but I don’t want this. I never wanted to be the one to kick off something like this. God, I’m going fucking mad, here. Why did I let her leave like that ... .Wait, wait, hold on, do what, Laur?” Trent paused his momentary rant to get Lauren to clarify.

“Winnie told me about the first time. I hadn’t met Y/N yet. She just was so sick. She wasn’t taking care of herself. I know you already know about these things, I don’t have to relay it all to you again. Honestly, I can barely talk about it. I don't want to have to do this anymore” Lauren’s body shuddered remembering other time’s that she’s been in this very situation. “I’ve watched her destroy herself. She lets herself wither away. I've seen it again and again and I thought we were done. I thought that you’d be the person that finally brought her some peace and seeing her like this again… it’s breaking me. When I came into the apartment… god” Lauren continued to cry, her heart hurting thinking about her best friend struggling to see what everyone around her saw. You were beautiful, inside and out and not in a cliche way, in a way that was indisputable and breathtakingly refreshing. Trent’s stomach dropped. He actually thought he might’ve blacked out while Lauren continued talking. “She’s okay, she’s safe and asleep but she just really doesn’t want to lose you, she couldn’t handle it.” You didn’t always have the strength to push past the type of destruction you’d inflict on yourself over the years but there was something that Trent was able to do that gave you hope, gave you moments of truly feeling love and value. Lauren believed in you. You could be strong but losing Trent was not something she wanted you to have to ever endure. That was your person. The one that was created and cut, defined and detailed just for you.

“Get her back to me, Lauren. I need her. I am not losing her. You will not lose her. This is stopping now. Whatever you need, just get her back home to me. I’m going to take care of her, I promise.” Trent said sternly. This was over. Being apart was over. Honestly, Trent wanted to just fly to New York right now but he couldn’t because he had a match. He wanted to say fuck football. Trust, he never said that and meant it but he did right now. He knew you’d be mad if he did it and he knew it would cause a stir so he bestowed all his trust in Lauren to get you to him.

As you laid in your bed, Trent was unavoidable in your dreams. He was everywhere. You cried in your sleep. Missing him. You couldn’t get up when your eyes began to flutter open, god knows how much longer later. Enough for Lauren to have your next 24 hours already planned out for you at the least. Your body was paralyzed by the crushing weight feeling as if you ruined your impending marriage and family over a stupid night out you took too far. The tears kept falling. In retrospect, you’re not sure they had stopped for the past few days. You were amazed you had any left in your tear ducts. You thought about how beautiful Trent was and how, in a nearly impossible way, what you created together, Teddy, your baby, was even more beautiful. You could hear their laughs echoing in your head in the most cynical mockery of what you were missing. You missed them so much.

You were filled with a mix of fear, regret, anxiety, heartache, and anticipation when Lauren got you back to your house. You felt your body go cold as you approached your once incredibly warm front door. Lauren stayed outside calling Jude for her own moral support that she needed. You were in a haze but this was really difficult on her as well. You punched in the front door’s code and heard the lock turn and shift. You grabbed the handle and pushed. The smell of your house hit you like a freight train. You could’ve physically fallen over with the amount of memories that flooded your mind at the scent. You covered your face with your hands for a moment and took a deep breath trying to compose yourself. You dropped your bag and your Rimowa at the door just the way you hated Trent did. The alarm beep rang through the house alerting that a door had opened. The sound was like catnip. You heard the pitter patter of bare feet running clumsily on the hardwood floors. Around the corner swung the most perfect little girl. Her hair laid flat pulled into a bun with a few ringlet curls escaping. She had a light pink shirt on dragging a bear on the ground behind her with one arm holding its paw in her hand. You started to cry immediately.

“Mama!” Teddy cried. Tears coursing down her cheeks. Her initial excitement of who was at the front door halted by the surprise of how much she missed you. This was so unfair to her. You sat on the floor and pulled her into your embrace engulfing her. You sobbing along with her.

“My baby. I missed you so much. I love you so much. I’m so sorry mummy was away. I’m so sorry, baby.” You pressed your lips to her hair and shut your eyes tight. She didn't really understand why you'd been away but boy was she happy to see you. You never wanted to let go of this little girl. Teddy continued to weep but she slowed eventually. Your hold of her only seeming to get tighter though as she fell into shorter breaths and sounds of hiccups

“Miss my mama.” She cooed talking into your shirt. You squeezed her that much tighter. Your hand running over her head before you loosened your hold to be able to look at her. You pressed her nose against hers. “Mama no sad.” She whimpered, being able to see how visibly upset you were. It hadn’t actually been more than 72 hours that all this unfolded but you felt like she managed to grow up somehow. She was so emotionally attuned and intelligent. She nuzzled her face into the nape of your neck comforted by your smell and you by hers.

“Oh baby, I know, I know you missed mama. I missed you so much. I’m not sad, I’m just so happy to see my little Teddy bear, yeah? Were you good for daddy?” The question just fell out like a habit. You shut your eyes barely able to process saying his name to her. It was then you heard ‘daddy’s’ footsteps coming to stand close but what still felt far away watching you in the foyer. He could tell immediately you’d lost weight in the span of days. The curve of your shoulder looked different, your cheekbones just a little more defined.

“Dada! Mama home!” Teddy pulled away from you and turned around to Trent to tell him the exciting news. He nodded with a smile at her, not looking at you. You weren’t sure if this would be all that exciting of news to him. Nevertheless, you got yourself up on shaky legs. He came over to you in what felt like slow motion. You told yourself you wouldn’t cry. He hated when you cried and you didn’t want to upset him more but you thought you might seeing his gorgeous face again. You had no idea where the two of you stood. He said he was done but you were back home by Lauren's guidance for the sake of your daughter. She didn’t want to do any of the talking for Trent, she was simply acting as a delivery woman. Trent extended one arm out to you. His big hand grabbing the back of your neck harshly, almost aggressively pulling your sylphlike body into his strong one. He brought his other arm around you slipping low across the small of your back the way he usually did. It was a bone crushing embrace. You felt his chest tremble and then he sniffed in harshly as he began to cry. You made him cry. You shut your eyes, extending the persistence of the horrible feelings you’d had for days.

“I love you.” You whispered, tucking your face against his neck. Your nose flattened against his soft skin. Teddy stood quietly holding onto your leg not ready to let go. Lauren snuck into the house quietly and grabbed her. “I’m sorry.” you whimpered barely audible. You took a deep breath reveling in the feeling of his warm hold, relief and fear concomitantly falling over you.

“Don’t fucking ever leave us again. Your home, your place in this world is right here in my arms with our little girl. We cannot survive without you here. Do you understand me?” Trent cooed with a stern but shaky voice keeping you tight to his chest. You nodded as your pervasive tears returned. More and more falling the longer he held you. “We love you. God, fuck… I am so in love with you Y/N. Please don’t ever leave me. No matter how much I push, no matter what’s happening, you cannot leave.” He pleaded begging you more than he was instructing you.

“I don’t want to leave, I don’t want you to not want me anymore. I want to come home, T. You’re the love of my life. You’re the only way I’m able to breathe.” You placed your hand over your heaving chest because your heart began to hurt so badly.

“You can’t go anywhere else. Not letting you.” He said with a desperate release of air. Your other hand’s nails dug into his cotton t-shirt covering his back. You let him cry, loosening your claw and rubbing circles with your hand on his lower back whilst the other moved off your chest to gently scratch his scalp until he was able to calm down.

“You never cry…” You made the observation giving him a sad smile in between gasping breaths. You wiped the tears under his eyes gently. Guilt and empathy running down your face.

“You’re worth crying for, baby.” he cupped your cheek. The heartfelt way he said baby to you returning, stilling your racing mind. He looked into your eyes and you felt everything around you disappear. Every worry, every physical thing around you vanishing, only him left. He kissed you and it was like someone restarted your whole nervous system. The cogs in your brain began turning again, the blood in your body began to pump again, your heart began beating again, the color began to rush back into your cheeks. “You owe me a few days of kisses, yeah? Teddy too. She’s desperate, apparently I’m not the same as mama.” He cooed, pulling away momentarily letting you know the work that laid ahead of you before returning his lips to their rightful place on yours.

“Oh no…” you couldn’t help but giggle picturing the conversations they must’ve had. Your lips curling into a toothy smile inadvertently pulling them off his. Listening to the two of them together was precious, you could only imagine what they were saying when they were alone. It made your heart swell seeing those two identical faces together. “What’d she say?” you asked curious to hear about the exchange.

“Nah, she had me running, you know? I felt like she knew the game she was playing as well. Dada want this, dada up, dada quiet. Just command after command and then in swept the critiques.” You smiled seeing his eyes light up recalling their days and Teddy’s hold over him.

“No mama does!” She rattled off squirming away as he attempted to do her hair after he placed her on his lap in front of him in a mirror in her room.

“I know she’s the best at it but can you let daddy do it today?” He asked her politely. He pulled her curls back into the best bun he could manage. Brushing it slicked back. She furrowed her brow at the finished product. He looked at her trying to make out why she wasn’t happy. He thought he did a good job.

“Bow! Dada bow, please.” She looked at him back through the mirror like he was dumb pressing her palm onto his thigh. Obviously, he forgot a bow. How did he not know that? He placed it and sighed. He kissed her cheek and plopped her on her own two feet.

“Are we hungry this morning? I am. I’m thinking we have the toastie you like.” Trent cooed looking at her as they walked down the hall inspecting his handiwork on her hair trying to find a flaw that warranted her disgruntled response. Teddy replied with a simple ‘yuck’ keeping her gaze fixed ahead focused on her tiny steps. “What why? What do you want then?” He asked inquisitively with a bit of a smile. It was hard not to laugh at her developing personality. He held her hand but let her navigate the grand staircase in your house roughly by herself.

“Mama.” She responded to him confidently and calmly knowing not what she wanted to eat but very certain she’d prefer you to be there to make it for her.

“Yeah, well same…” Trent exhaled, inspecting the empty refrigerator he knew you usually filled with all the things you knew he and Teddy liked. It was the little things you did that had disappeared in front of his eyes now missing them tremendously in a day's time.

“I mean… it wasn’t good, baby.” His smile faded as he recalled the last couple days that were filled with some cute moments but more so difficult ones.

“Baby?” You asked, interested if that’s where you stood now. Were you on good terms? One of the last times he said it it really stung.

“Yeah, my baby. Forever but we really need to talk.” He spoke to you softly before taking your hand and guiding you into the cinema. It made you nervous hearing the door shut behind you. The noise reminding you the room had sound proof walls. God, you hoped this wasn’t going to be another loud fight like the one that transpired in your kitchen where you’d need those walls.

“I know we’re talking and it’s serious but…” You took a deep breath and tried to fight back tears. You sat on opposite sides of the couch in the room awkwardly as if you had just met. You looked at him with a pout and puppy dog eyes. “I’m scared and I really need you. Can you just hold me please?” You whimpered out, quite pathetic.

“C’mere, pretty girl. This is where you’re supposed to be, yeah?” He smiled softly, loving hearing that you needed him, that he was a comfort to you. You relaxed in his arms, relieved that was the vibe and not you two raising your voices. You laid your head on his shoulder. Trent hugged you tightly and you couldn’t hold back the tears that began to run down your face. You bawled his shirt in your fists.

“T… Who was that in the photos?” You sheepishly asked, unable to keep it inside anymore. You wanted to get what felt like the hard bit out of the way. You were lying to yourself and using him as a scapegoat. This wasn’t the hard part by a long shot. No matter his answer, there was a massive elephant in the room and it was you but you couldn’t shake the photos online of him and that woman. The thought of someone else, another girl spending time alone with him. Her somehow becoming his best friend. Him choosing her over you.

“Baby…” He drew out the pet name, saddened you’d seen the photos and imagined something completely incorrect.

“If you did, I’d understand.” You cut him off before he even answered you, excusing an action he didn’t do. He dropped his head back against the couch frustrated this was still where you were at, that things didn’t magically change when you walked back into the house. You believed he could treat you like that and it would be an okay thing, something you might’ve deserved.

“Stop. I didn’t do anything. It was George’s cousin. Baby… we gotta work through this. You need to understand I’m committed to you. This is why I met with her. You need…” He trailed off feeling awkward and terrible for what he was about to say. “ You need help.” He muttered out.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for it all, T, the final, New York. I never wanted to hurt you.” You apologized earnestly.

“You didn’t hurt me, I mean you did but I’m more concerned about you hurting yourself. I was scared. I know Lauren told Jude not to but baby, we’re all really worried. They both told me about what happened in the apartment in New York…” He sighed hating that you were even having to have this conversation. You exhaled his name, defeated feeling the same. “Nah, I don’t want a defense or excuse. I can’t lose you.” He tried to deter you from the innate need to defend yourself.

“Before Wembley… I don’t know. I got too drunk and I was alone and I got sad. It was a one off.” You had no ground to stand on, any reasoning would’ve been illogical but you felt the words jumbled rolling off your tongue.

“It’s not. When Lauren visited, you got so sad, baby. It’s just not, you’ve said it’s happened before. Your dad told me, Winnie’s told me, Lauren’s told me. It might not be happening in front of me but it’s happening. Baby, I get that it…” He tried to keep talking to you but you gave him a face you gave to a lot of people. A facade of interest. A mask being pulled in front of your face, the elastic band snapping behind your head securing it. “Don’t…” he reprimanded you knowing it all too well. “Fine, I can’t understand but I imagine it’s hard to talk about. I’m scared. I’ll be the one to say it, alright? I’m fucking scared, Y/N.” He sheepishly admitted to you. Feeling like he failed by doing so. “We need to go to a doctor. I don’t mean this derogatorily I just think someone could help. I'm out of my depth here. I don’t want anything to happen to you. To my Y/N. To my baby’s mum.” He defeatedly let out. You could feel his heart racing pressed against you. You had so much to say but nothing would come out. You cuddled into him, laying your head on his chest. “I love you so much.” He whispered, breathing you in. Transitioning from sheer desperation to admiration for your body in his hands right now. Jesus Christ, what had happened? In a weird way he began to wonder if he felt like he had used you. “Am I making things worse?” He questioned you terrified of your potentially heartbreaking answer. You shook your head ‘no.’ Why didn’t this stuff go on in front of him? The inability to keep up with a golden boy wasn’t the problem but it was hard to not feel downtrodden. Trent was empathetic, he could hear it in the way you cried in the kitchen before you left.

'You expect me to be this perfect version 24/7 but I’m not. I’m not!” You kept crying. “I’m sorry. Fuck! I’m sorry, I’m trying but I can’t be like you, okay?” You whimpered, feeling defeated and broken.'

You didn’t really blame Trent for being good at well… life. Instead, you felt a crushing amount of guilt and shame for not simply being enough. The inability to measure up not to him but for him. You felt so tender in his arms like if he moved suddenly or too rough you’d break or bruise. He thought about the way he had sex with you, the way he uprooted you to England, the way he got you pregnant. He felt horrible that he inflicted so much on you physically. He just wanted to take care of you but alternatively, you’d never felt less used. The exact scenarios he was recalling flashed through your mind in the most blissfully painful way. You shut your eyes again. You wouldn’t change a thing, a lie, maybe a few things on your end but overall, no. His hands on you felt alleviating and comforting all the time. Even if he was fucking you roughly, even if you were jet lagged flying places to see him, even the grueling process of labor was fine all because he was there.

“Thank you for caring.” You muttered out embarrassingly honestly, finally finding some words that you felt wholeheartedly would be good to start with. Trent’s heart, if it hadn’t already when he saw you come back into your house, it surely did just completely shatter. He kissed your hair and then over your ear before whispering to you.

“I will always care about you. More than you could ever understand. I will do anything for you…” he paused and let out a breathy sigh. “Anything.” The warmth of his breath, the drag of his lips moving down your skin sent a shiver running up your spine.

“T, we shouldn't, it's too soon.” You moaned feeling his lips cascade down the length of your jaw. The mood in the room shifting in slow motion. He didn’t mean to, it just was instinctual. His big hands moving the fabric of your top further and further up, finding more and more of your bare skin. You pushed yourself back into him, rolling your head to the side. Telling him one thing out loud and asking for something completely different silently.

“It’s fine. We’re fine, baby. We’re gonna be fine.” He rattled off, not able to think very clearly lost in a very thick haze feeling your body again.

“We can’t do this, T. I have more to say.” You whined, not meaning half the words you said. You definitely wanted to do this but you also did have more to say. He had no control at this point and you hated that it turned you on so much. His desire for you would always trump any sense of reasoning you had. You couldn’t stop him because the sensations running through you were invincible. The physical attraction and the sexual desire between you would always pull you back together.

“No, no, this is going to be really good. I fucking need you. I missed you so much..” You turned towards him with a desperate look on your face. Your eyes filled with lust. Trent could get hard off the look on your face alone but feeling you again, touching you again was setting him off. He pulled you into a messy make out gripping your face before pushing you backwards onto more of the couch crawling over you. “We need this. You need this.” He whispered, breathing you in and moving his kisses to your neck. You kept him close to you pulling him to you by his face. His hands dropped to your waist. He was right, you needed this, you needed him. His soft warm hands pushed your shirt up to feel more of you.

“I love you, baby.” You murmured your lips unable to not pull into a smile. He sighed into the crook of your neck hearing you say that. You brought your legs to wrap around him digging your heels into his back. You couldn’t think about anything else but him for the last few days and right now was no different.

“I love you so much.” He cooed and his voice never sounded more caring and honest. He spoke into your warm skin, kissing them into the most sensitive part of your neck. The whole thing feels more intimate than ever. Love filling the room to the brim. He reached between you and looped the two layers of his boxer and trousers pulling both off. He revealed his tone v line and you let out an embarrassing moan, you taking your own clothes off swiftly. He pulled away from you and looked at your bare body. You felt so naked and vulnerable, he could sense your nerves. He tilted your face towards his holding your cheek. “What are you being shy about? It’s just me, yeah?” He waited for you. You nodded pulling him back into a kiss. You sighed in the kiss dragging your nails up his chest. He repositioned his body over yours and dragged the tip of his leaking cock through your folds.

“T… please, I need you.” You whined. He smiled happy you were back to your normal comfortable self with him. He slowly eased into your dripping wet pussy. You moaned as Trent treaded carefully moving slowly inside. His face fell into your neck groaning at the feeling of you wrapping around him. He moved slowly but precisely. Your nails dug into his back as he kissed your skin. Each stroke loving and thoughtful. He picked up his pace though lost in the feeling.

“You feel so good, baby.” He grunted pushing your thigh up further to your side, hitting deeper inside you. The grip of his fingers on you dug into your soft thigh. He found the spot inside you only knew, only for him, only for you, repeatedly

“Baby, oh my god, T. I missed you. I’m so sorry. I love you.” You were unable to stop your babbles. Tears began to fill your waterline.

“Don’t be. I love you. You’re here with me. Be here with me. Fuck, you feel so good. Let me take care of you” He inhaled a sharp breath. His dimples s sank into cheeks as he gave a sincerely sad and sympathetic smile. “Tell me your mine, baby.” He murmured continuing to thrust into in a way that was so euphoric your tears began to fall. His voice was breathy against your ear feeling the same amount of emotion you were feeling. The weight of his body on top of yours feeling like nothing compared to the weight lifting off you two. Your orgasm approached faster and faster, minute after minute. He bit onto your earlobe and tugged, grabbing your attention.

“I’m yours, Trent. I’m always gonna be yours.” You whimpered. His mahogany eyes poured back into yours. He felt his heart skip a beat when you pulled him back down into a kiss. He fucked you harder with a harsh grunt juxtaposed by the sweetest kiss to the bridge of your nose. Your hand dragged down from behind his neck down the protruding veins of his arms until you reached the rigid texture of the Patek Phillipe watch he had wrapped on his wrist. The knot in your stomach tightened. It only took a few more mind numbing thrusts before Trent’s head dropped into your neck. Your climax erupting inside of you, your vision going white. His cock throbbed inside of you, beginning to paint your walls. You moaned ‘I love yous’ simultaneously. You felt him pouring into you. Waves upon waves of pleasure coursing through both of you. You hid your face against him. He slowed and you felt your bottom lip quiver against his skin. An uncontrollable sob escaped you. Your emotions bubbled over once more. Trent pulled out as gently as he could. He rolled off of you but was swift pulling you back into him. You clung to him crying.

“I’m right here.” He whispered, pulling you that much closer to him and yet it wasn’t close enough. You wanted to be completely surrounded by him. “Can you look at me, baby?” He sounded so worried. You shook your head ‘no.’ “Y/N…” He grabbed your face gently and turned you towards him. “I need to know you’re okay.” He asked softly. More tears escaped.

“I’m okay… just love you so much, T.” You pouted up at him and you felt his tense hold relax. “I love you.” He pressed a wet kiss to your cheek the way you always pretended to hate but secretly loved. You wiped his wet spit off of you and giggled. Trent felt relief wash over him when he heard his favorite sound in the world.

“Oh wow… so mummy and daddy are… fine.” Lauren laughed carrying Teddy past the cinema minutes okay from upstairs into the kitchen. She was currently FaceTiming Jude biding her time while watching Teddy for you and Trent to ‘talk.’ “I think they’re fine. I mean they’re fucking so it’s either a really good thing or a really bad thing.” She laughed. Hoping for the first option. “Should we make you some lunchtime, hmm?” She cooed to the little girl in her arms while Teddy eagerly nodded trying to grab hold of her phone curious about Jude on the other end.

“You’re good with kids, Laur.” Jude spoke through her phone with a cheeky smile seeing her so attentive and kind to Teddy.

“I think I’m just good with Teddy. She's chill so it doesn’t really count. I know this is how it works but she’s the perfect blend of them. All the best things I like rolled into the cutest, squishiest, baby girl in the whole world!” Lauren sang in a soft voice, pinching at Teddy’s tummy. Her squeal shrieking through the phone, Jude blinking his eyes a few times, taken aback by her response to Lauren.

“All done mama!” Teddy yelled as you met them in the kitchen, flush. You pressed a kiss to Teddy's hair on your way to get the water you needed desperately before attending to her. She had finished eating the lunch Lauren kindly had made for her.

“Good girl.” You cooed with a smile. Lauren sat with a smug look on her face as she waited for the inevitable late entrance of Trent, who, when he did stride in, looked absolutely fucking elated.

“Dada miss mama,” Teddy told you as she saw Trent enter. It was an over simplified way saying Trent had really missed you. He sadly and softly smiled at you hearing her. Your heart broke a little that she’d been able to piece it together, that she could sense Trent’s sad mood.

“Mummy loves you so much.” He’d reassure her feeling completely unsure of what was going on in your relationship.The few nights you were away Trent would tuck Teddy in as she cried. Teddy would fall asleep only comforted by Trent babbling on little stories and tidbits about you, how perfect you were, how much you likely missed her. They’d watch videos of you and he’d melt. “Want to see something baby? Want to see the day I met mummy?” He laughed remembering a specific video he had on his phone, he wanted to watch. Teddy nodded tiredly, adjusting to the new routine activity. He was a little embarrassed he even had it but it made him remember a really good time despite things being so bad right now. You likely didn’t even know this video existed. He kept it in a locked folder on his phone primarily where all your nudes and let’s say spicer videos lived. He smiled seeing you like that. Vulnerable, needy for him and in love. You looked gorgeous. He dragged his thumb over the screen. He just wanted to feel your soft skin again as he carefully picked the video of you out of the roll making sure not to pick the wrong one before he showed Teddy. It was a video Marcel had sent around in a snapchat which seemed mundane at the time. He remembered Jude teasing him about it the following day as you laid on his chest, experiencing a new warm feeling of comfort. The video was strangely endearing, like you could see your connection in real time. Energy and force pushing you together. The earth letting out a sigh of relief finally getting two people that were meant to be connected.

“Mama pwety.” Teddy looked up at him cuddling a plush bear with big sleepy eyes as they looked at the thumbnail before he pressed play. He nodded at her. “Yeah, you have the most beautiful mummy in the world.” He confirmed to your daughter with a sigh before he hit play. Hearing your coquettish laugh in the video cozying up to him in a club years ago just about sent him into cardiac arrest. It hurt. God, did it hurt.

“Oh, I missed you both lots.” You cooed, kissing her. She smiled, little dimples indenting in her cheeks. A very visual confirmation she was Trent’s little girl. You’ve said it before but you were comedically jealous of the genetics Teddy was inheriting from him.

“More plebs!” Teddy screamed, grabbing for you. “Mama, miss!” She giggled loving that you were back and really loving your kisses, kicking her feet in her chair. She greedily hummed. “Lub my mummy.” She squealed excitedly. You wanted to cry but you didn’t want to stop kissing her to so you held off.

“Mummy gives the best kisses, huh?” Trent cooed, bending over in front of Teddy to plant a kiss on your cheek with a hum.

“You’d know…” Lauren quipped cheekily eliciting a proud augh from Trent and a raised eyebrow from you.

When Teddy eventually got sleepy you brought her upstairs for sleep. You went to her nursery and you pouted seeing that Trent had nestled one of your softest jumpers in her crib, the smell of you still lingering. There was a little framed photo of your family moved from its original place propped closer for her to see. You started crying so hard you had to sit down. You couldn’t believe you put your child through this, you couldn’t believe you put Trent through this. Trent came upstairs and you met him in your bedroom after you had calmed yourself down on your own. He held you in bed in a close cuddle.

“I can’t remember ever going to bed without saying goodnight before. I hated this so much, baby.” You whispered into the dark room as he caressed your warm skin under a tiny camisole you had on.

“We’re never doing this again. I’m sorry I got so upset.” He cooed behind the shell of your ear pressing his lips against you. You both stayed awake in a warm cuddle. You didn’t know what time it was but it as the color of sky outside fell into that warm navy color, you’d guess around 4 am though.

“Do you still want to marry me?” You asked after a few hours of not talking, just happy to be back in his arms and good graces. Neither of you wanted to fall asleep but not out of worry, but out of comfort. You didn’t want to lose the cognizance of his presence, what he felt like, what he smelt like.

“Not a single second went by where I ever questioned that, okay?” He hummed. You smiled through a pout. You’d hope that was true. He meant it though. He didn’t waver in his commitment to you. He told Tyler he had no plans of leaving you. Through all of this it didn’t even pop in his head you would call off the marriage. Maybe he was angry and didn’t like how things currently were but not have you, not marry you? Never. You turned around in his arms and pressed a kiss to his lips. He kissed you back and shut his eyes, getting tired, not being able to keep them open anymore. You let him rest but you stayed awake inspecting his features. You brought your hand up to his face and tracing his perfectly plump lips. You brushed your thumb over his high cheekbones. You started to fall asleep then dropping your face in his neck, tucked carefully under his chin, wrapping your arms around his waist, legs tangled together. You kissed his warm skin drowsily, letting him know how much you loved him even while he slept. He woke up first the next day. He did the same as you did last night inspecting your features. The morning sun seeped through your blinds. The golden light casting over you. You looked radiant and luminescent but your soul, your heart, he could feel it. It was more striking than your beauty. He kissed your forehead before pulling you that much tighter to him.

Trent had his last game of the season. It was a little surreal mostly because you realized that when the next season began you would be married, the surname on the jersey you were in, would be your own. Lauren and Marcel accompanied you along with Teddy. You wished Marcel would shut up so you could live in your moment of bliss imagining being his brother’s wife and admire Trent in peace. The way sweat dripped over his adams apple, his jersey sticking a little to his abs, his cheekbones highlighted by the floodlights. He looked unreal. Lauren went inside and Marcel looked at you curiously. You could feel his eyes but you ignored him until he spoke.

“Going to tell me how things have been?” He looked at you completely ignoring the game now. You rolled your eyes but he was persistent.

“Yeah, all fine” You said dismissively, keeping your eyes on Trent whilst tucking a loose curl behind Teddy’s ear. He rolled his eyes now at you.

“Y/N… you know you have to let us in, let him in, let me in. I don’t get why you didn't tell me to begin with?” He spoke, sounding heartfelt, keeping his gaze fixed on you.

“When was I supposed...” You sighed stopping yourself from starting to defend yourself but you could see his brow raise in annoyance. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t want to scare anyone.” You exhaled feeling a lot of guilt wash over you. He was one of your best friends and you had been extremely selfish not considering how he must’ve felt and dense assuming he wouldn’t want to know.

“Well, you did a really bad job.” He laughed and it made you smile. You felt relieved he was at least being normal again with you.

“Marce… “ You sheepishly got out. “I’m so sorry” you apologized earnestly, leaning your head on his shoulder. He rested his head on top of yours.

“We love you. Just want mummy healthy, right Ted?” He cooed picking up Teddy from you from under her arms. Her eyes lit up.

‘Lub mama, Celly!” She giggled, reaching to hug him wrapping herself around his neck. You pulled her Liverpool jersey down for her covering her back. You smiling at her voice. She loved him so much. To be fair, Marcel just had good vibes and since having Teddy you felt like kids had a great gauge of people. There was something that was so endearing about her relationship with him. She trusted him and was comforted by him, it made you feel incredibly relaxed knowing she’d always have her uncles and your sister.

“I’m so glad you’re mine.” Trent whispered, kissing your head. You held Teddy and smiled for the annual end of season family photo you so loved. Trent was staring at you though not the cameras. You had gone down onto the pitch for one final lap after the match. It was lovely as always. Sweet and a bit emotional.

“Always yours.” You cooed, turning to kiss him. Teddy quick to want the same amount of attention you were giving each other. She pulled at your shirt with a cute grunt. “Yes, yes and you are ours, Teddy girl.” You kissed her with an eccentric ‘Mwah!’ her giggle following.

When you finally were driving home, you were tired, Teddy already fast asleep, and Trent absolutely exhausted. Needless to say it was a quiet ride. You looked at Trent as the colored lights lining the motorway leaked into the car. You smiled admiring his beauty. His focus on the road but yours on his jawline strikingly sharp.

“What are you staring at me for?” He laughed, calling you out, flashing his eyes your way quickly. You giggled sliding your hand over onto his face brushing your thumb over his cheek.

“You’re so pretty. Do you know that?” You cooed admiring his annoying perfect skin, despite his annoyingly minimal effort.

“Yeah, obviously.” He replied with a straight face before he couldn’t hold in the cheeky childish smile he was trying to keep down. His perfect grin made your heart hurt. He was so pretty but you rolled your eyes at his pompousness. “Don’t pull a bird like you looking anything but leng.” He turned his adorable look to you.

“Yeah? How did you even manage to bag me?” You teased with a giggle. His smile staying put hearing the sound but he rolled his eyes at your joke. He tapped at his cheek with his free hand, keeping the other draped over the steering wheel. You raised your eyebrows at his gesture.

“Go on…” He instructed you. You laughed again and pressed a kiss where his fingers had been tapping. “Thank youuu.” He sang.

“Ridiculous.” You reached over again to him and squeezed his thigh.

“Erm… Ow? I just played 97 minutes. Keep your hands to yourself.” He quipped. You squeezed his thigh again just because. You knew he liked the attention. He loves when you give it to him and he can just annoy you in return.

“You love my hands on you. So full of it, you know.” You giggled with one more squeeze than attempted to remove your hand but he was quick to place his over top of it to keep it on him.

“I do. I really love your hands on me.” He cooed in a voice that made you feel like you had a juvenile crush on him. You were flustered by the flirtatious comment. He could feel your arm tense a little so instead of keeping your hand on his thigh, he picked it up and brought it up to his lips to kiss the back of it.

“T… do you want to take me on a date this week?” You asked him bluntly, turning the direction of the conversation. You liked him flirting with you right now and you wanted more. You thought it’d be nice to have a night out just you two. Probably a good thing considering what had transpired.

“Yeah? Want me to?” He smiled big again squeezing your hand. You nodded in an adorably naive way. “Yeah, beautiful, I’ll take you out.” He cooed turning towards you again. His mind beginning to comb through ideas of where he wanted to take you. You leaned over once more unprovoked to give him another kiss on the cheek before you tucked back in your seat shutting your eyes and resting your head onto the window. “Alright, sleepy girls, we’re home.” Trent’s voice waking you up from a daze you didn’t know you had fallen into. You turned to him with a tired pout as if to ask ‘can you please carry me inside?’ He laughed getting out of the car. He came around and opened your door but then he stepped away and opened the back seat. “I’m gonna carry our literal baby but if you want to wait I’ll come back and get you.” He mocked you. You obviously weren’t going to wait outside so you begrudgingly got out of the car yourself. Trent picked up Teddy gently making sure she didn’t wake. He held her tight to him. You shut the door of the car for him and followed them, proceeding to slip your arms around his waist and resting your forehead against his back. He shook his head as he got both his sleepy girls to bed.

The next day you were getting ready to go to Dianne’s house up in your bedroom's wardrobe. You were doing your best to get back into your routine. Lauren was still there, leaving soon, but you had promised Dianne you’d go see her with Teddy. She heard rumblings about the situation, naturally. Trent had confided in her early on in your relationship when you first let it slip you had struggled with your health to him. He’d never really thought about something like that affecting someone he knew. He had girl friends and girlfriends but he never had a sister he had to share a bathroom with growing up. He didn’t know girls were skipping meals and doing diets or maybe the more extreme things you had been doing that you shared with him. She of course was empathetic to him and did her best to be a sounding board and not intrude but as a mum, as a person who knew you and loved you, she was concerned. So you promised you’d go.

“Hey… have you seen my Van Clef?” you asked vaguely to Trent. “Like our one?” You clarified more as you were trying to put final touches on your outfit. He puffed out some air realizing that he was going to have to confront his mistake head on. He hated himself. He had been trying to avoid it but of course you were looking for it, you wore it almost everyday.

“Baby…” he called you, watching nervously. You hummed acknowledging him as you dug through your wardrobe thinking maybe you had misplaced it. “It’s not here.” He told you sheepishly. You gave him a side eye confused but when he didn’t speak you turned your whole body to him.

“What do you mean? I don’t understand.” At first, maybe you thought this was some sweet ploy of his. He came to you and slipped his hands around your waist. When he dropped his forehead against yours you felt the energy shift in the room. This wasn’t some goofy thing he was serious about something.

“I had to bring it in to get repaired.” He got his words out so slow you clung to each one in anticipation. Your brow furrowed. He exhaled, dropping his shoulders. He wished he could lie but he knew it'd be wrong to. He was asking you to be honest with him; it would be incredibly hypocritical. “I found it when you were gone and I don’t know I just snapped and then it snapped.” He shut his eyes. You let out a measly ‘oh’ you felt the things he did when it happened. That necklace was your relationship and he had destroyed it. You were definitely in the wrong but it made you feel so sad you were actively trying not to cry or react. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I don’t know what happened it just felt like such a punch in the gut finding it. I though that you didn’t want it or you left it, left me… it hurt. I’m sorry. Fuck.” He babbled incredibly quickly. You usually were fine with his accented words but your eyes narrowed trying to focus your spinning mind on what he was saying. His accent would come in thick sometimes and disappear other days. Relaxing with his friends at home, their words could feel like another language. Nervous doing press, he was more conscious of what he was saying, letting it slip away.

“It’s fine… I guess.” You gave him a soft smile wishing you didn’t say the last bit. “I understand.” You kissed the tip of his nose and pulled yourself out of his hold. The room went ice cold. Trent’s mind was just filled with his inner voice screaming ‘fuck.’ It was hard not to notice the mood change after that. He hated it. “T, I didn’t leave it on purpose…” you told him right before you left, kissing his cheek, holding Teddy and heading to your car. You were so swift; he didn't even have the opportunity to respond.

“Laur... what am I meant to do here? Things aren’t just going to snap back.” Trent sighed, squinting, picking up his hand to shield his eyes to better make out Lauren’s face. They were sitting in your back garden as the English summer sun beat down on them. They stayed at home while you popped to Dianne’s. Despite your upset about your necklace it did make you happy that your best friend and your fiance “I don’t know, sometimes I just feel like a kid. I feel like I’m making stupid mistakes.” Trent was thinking about breaking the necklace. You’d probably be just as upset if he had managed to break your engagement ring but in a way this had stung more. The necklace was a decision he made before, a decision he made off of instinct, under your nose, completely infatuated by you. It was such an indication of how he felt about you from the very beginning and it was gone. A part of you was happy you didn’t have any visual of it all.

“You’re not but I know the feeling. If you didn’t pick up I was going to call your mum the other day. I was in a moment of introspection on the flight over and I almost laughed. Your mum? Oh hiya erm… can you help… embarrassing.” Lauren rattled off what felt like a million different thoughts. She shook her head but noticed Trent faint smirk on his face not pulling into a full smile but drifting into a tight line.

“Maybe we should’ve.” He reflected. Maybe Dianne would’ve been more of a help than him. “Like she’s fine most of the time right? I make her happy? I try so hard and yet some days I can feel it like nothing could ever change it all.” He spoke looking and sounded defeated.

“It’s not you T… She loves you so much. You make her happy, she’ll be okay, but she is the only one that can change it. You’re there for her and that’s the most important. She needs you and Teddy.” Lauren kept her eyes locked on his, making sure he knew she was being serious. She meant what she was saying. He couldn’t fix things but he was essential. Trent responded only with a soft ‘yeah.’ He thought to himself though that what you really needed was for him to repair your necklace and your relationship.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🤍

Next part - Chapter 21 xx

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold imagines #taa x reader #taa66 #footballer x y/n #footballer x reader #oursfic #trent alexander arnold smut

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harveyb-wabbit92 · 10 hours

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Grocery girl: Ken Sato x reader Pt. 2

You were a delivery girl who was frequently dispatched to the famous baseball player's Ken Sato residence, you were a nobody that anyone hardly paid attention to, until you found the legendary baseball passed out on his front steps looking like hell, being a bit of worry wart you help him inside and that things took a HUGE turn when you find yourself playing mommy for a giant baby dragon....

Part 1

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It had been almost a month since that strange incident with Sato. R/n tried bury it in the back of her mind but it always seem to find it's way back to the surface, it also didn't help that he was the main topic on every news outlet or at every water cooler gossip R/n has accidentally eavesdropped on. Apparently things weren't going very well for Mr. Sato's career.

Heck, even Meimei seems to have lost her earlier admiration for the baseball player as the younger girl had stopped asking R/n about him and switched to swooning and gushing over some K-pop group she fell in love with to anyone that would listen; R/n included, but that's teenagers for you they loose interest in things too easily, not that Meimei's uncle AKA the Boss was complaining he was just happy the kid was taking her job seriously now! So was R/n cos that meant Meimei would stop following her around asking about Mr. Sato every time she got back from a delivery.

Speaking of...

R/n pulled into Mr. Sato's driveway it seemed like the usual drop off situation until R/n got out of the van and nearly dropped the box of groceries at the sight that waited for her outside, R/n had to take a minute for her brain register what she was looking at first.

She thought it was a dummy left outside, before realizing it was person passed out on the steps and not just any old person. "Mr. Sato!" R/n put the box down and ran over to the downed baseball player she rolled him over to get look at his face and winced. Cripes! he looked like he'd been dragged through hell and back again!

R/n quickly tried to rouse the knocked out Sato by shaking him but that did little other making him mumble incoherently, R/n then through great struggle managed to lift him up off the stairs and was stunned at how heavy the baseball player was as his weight damn near sent them both tumbling backwards!

But R/n managed to steady them both as she pretty much dragged his limp body up the stairs. "This would be so easy for me if you'd just wake up." R/n grunted as she readjusted Ken so she could knock on his door; Hopefully his assistant was here and she could take care of him.

However when the front door opened on it's own there was no one there waiting. R/n stared nervously into the seemingly empty house, she heard nary a creak or breeze as she reluctantly took a step inside and tried not to yelp when the door suddenly shut behind her leaving the house in almost complete darkness.

Then the thoughts started creeping in and for brief moment R/n wondered if this was all possibly all a ruse and that Mr Sato was secret serial kill and that strange noises she heard last time was screams of his last victim...After all, who would suspect the famous baseball payer?!

But then R/n's more rational side reasoned how that ridiculous that was! if there was a killer on the loose there would've been some kind of news about it. R/n calmed herself down and dragged Mr. Sato to the first couch she found before getting his abandoned groceries from outside, R/n went against policy and opened them, grabbing a bottle of water and a Melon pan from it.

She left them on the coffee table for when he wakes up and was going to leave Mr. Sato for his assistant to find, But then R/n felt something off...did the floor just vibrate? Her brows furrowed as her eyes looked up at the ceiling and saw the boxy looking chandelier was swaying around; R/n shook her head. No, it wasn't her business... She got ready to leave, but then the thoughts about Mr. Sato possibly being a covert serial killer came back with a vengeance and she thought if he was hiding someone could that vibration them calling for help?

Checking to make sure Mr. Sato was still sleeping R/n cautiously crouched down low and pressed her ear to the floor only to jumped back with a gasp when she heard the same wailing from a month ago echoing from the floor below, R/n stood up and looked around the house for a way downstairs and found her only option was the large glass elevator cos of course the rich boy's got an elevator.... R/n stepped in and looked for a control button only for the elevator start moving on it own.

R/n tried to duck down in poor attempt to hide herself as it got closer to the bottom floor when it finally stopped and the delivery girl cautiously peeked out to see; well, she expected some kind of blood soaked torture room to be waiting for her, instead her eyes widened in awe at her futuristic surroundings if this was a basement it was like one she'd never seen before! The thoughts about Mr. Sato being a serial killer were quickly replaced with him possibly being a superhero fanboy.

This whole place screamed 'Batcave' as R/n stepped out of the elevator and began to wander around she wondered how much this place cost the baseball player to build? While R/n was gawking she failed to notice the large shadow slowly rising up behind her until it was too late.

R/n looked down and slowly turned around looking up as did her awe struck face slowly contorting into fear as she stared up at the beast behind her and shuddered.

"I never knew the harbinger of death would be so... pink!"

*hours later*

Ken is woken up to by the baby squealing and his alarms going off like crazy! He looked at the time 11 pm...Oh, he missed her 9pm feeding, he wondered Mina didn't wake him up? when he spotted the water and Melon pan on the coffee table and ate and drank those as he made his way to the elevator but it was already downstairs causing him to pause.

Ken's mind was still hazy from juggling everything he couldn't remember if he'd gone downstairs earlier and went outside through the airlock to get back up into the house? Or maybe Mina brought something downstairs for the baby to use?

The answer was the last thing Ken expected as he descended into his base to find the baby playing Daruma-san (statues/red light green light for us yanks) with Mina and...Ken choked on his food when he saw his grocery girl standing in the middle of his base in posed like Hamlet (she holding Mina in the Alas poor Yorick pose) She nearly fell over when she saw Mr. Sato gawking. "What the heck is going-Oh, nonono!" When then the baby noticed him and she immediately run up to Ken and picked him up much to his protest.

While this was going on R/n used this as her attempt to escape to the elevator only for Ken to notice her sneaking away and changed into Ultraman and block her path with his hand... R/n gasped as she looked up at the silver giant completely flabbergasted. "Okay, So not a serial killer." Now it was Ultraman's turn to be confused. "What?"

Cut to R/n trapped in her own containment chamber sitting down bored as she watches a frustrated Mr. Sato pacing around his base. "Y'know, You'll go bald if you keep tugging at your hair like that" she said with a sigh the baseball player ignored her as the delivery girl tried to readjusted herself in a more comfortable position but the tube was to narrow for her legs to properly stretch out. "Couldn't you have given me a bigger tube? this one's too cramped." Mr. Sato shot her a seething glare that shut R/n up as he walked up to her tube.

"Oh, I'm sorry, maybe you should've called ahead before breaking into my house!" He sneered The delivery just rolled her eyes. "For that last time, I didn't break in I found you outside..." Ken snorted obviously not believing her. "Hey you, floating eye lady" R/n called out to Mina who floated over to them. "Doesn't this place have cameras or something" Show this knuckle head I'm telling the truth." She said crossing her arms, while Ken barked a Mina not to listen her and wait for the cops, who were taking their sweet time getting here.

"The police are not coming because I haven't called them." Ken looked at the orb in disbelief. "What? why not?!" Mina played the footage from a few hours ago showing Ken staggering up his front steps and then dropping like a sack of potatoes 15 minutes later R/n's van pulled up showed her jumping and quickly checking Ken over before picking him carrying him inside, and showed how she got into his base.

"Told ya, if this is the thanks I get for helping; then maybe I should've left you there for the birds to crap on!"

"Okay, okay... but that still doesn't mean you're off the hook."

"Oh? what are you gonna do? keep me in this tube forever?"

"No, You going to help me...With her."

Mr. Sato points at the baby Kaiju in the tube next to R/n's who babble happily and waved when he pointed at her, R/n meanwhile got this shell shocked look on her face, she thought he was joking until R/n was free from the tube; but by the next morning found herself in a moving van with her belongs hastily stuffed inside headed back towards Mr. Sato's house.

{Bonus, how R/n ended up playing with Emi:

R/n tried to back away from the pink dragon thing that was staring her down when it took a step near her, She gasped and instinctively covered her face...But, nothing happened? The delivery girl curiously peeked between her fingers and saw Pinky was staring at her; she put her hands down.

The monster moves again R/n throws her hands back up and the monster did the oddest thing it smiled while chirping and clapping at her. R/n was very obviously bewildered by it's strange behavior as she repeated same action a few times before something clicked in her head; Peek-a-Boo.... It's thinks R/n was playing Peek-a-boo with it . "You're just a baby, aren't you?" The Kaiju tilted it's head at R/n bemused.

*Ken Sato has a baby Kaiju in his basement...what the crap?!*

The delivery girl screamed mentally as the baby Kaju chirped and covered it's face with it's hands; R/n knew what it was doing and played along "Oh no, where'd the baby go?" The delivery girl pretended to look around while side eyeing the elevator which the baby was currently blocking, The kaiju pulled it's hands away from it's face as R/n cheered "Oop, there you are!~" the baby squealed excitedly as this floating eye-ball robot suddenly appeared and started asking questions.

R/n explained herself and promised that she wouldn't tell anyone about this if the eye would let her leave. However, as soon as R/n took a step towards the elevator... The baby started sniffling and tearing up causing the delivery girl to panic. "No, no, I'm not leaving I'm not leaving, I promise, I'll stay here!" R/n said petting it on the leg and not realizing just how true those words would end up being in a few hours.

------------

Cross posted on my A03/Squidgeworld/Wattpad.

#Again pulled another all nighter for this I think I fell asleep at 3am #ultraman #tokusatsu #ultraman rising #emi ultraman #ultra series #ken sato #kenji sato x reader #afab reader

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bonefall · 8 hours

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What are your thoughts on Crowfeather's Trial? I already know how you feel about my other least favorite super editions so I'm curious about your opinions on this one lol

I think at best it's just okay. Like...it feels like they're going "see!! We're holding him accountable!!" But then they just kinda...dont?? Like I didn't feel any differently about Crowfeather by the end than I did when I started. There's parts I like about it but overall it just fell flat for me

Like how am I supposed to like this guy when he's just constantly a dick?? he can't stand Harespring for some reason, there's a moment where he's like "I wish my son was dead" and when Nightcloud goes missing he barely gives a damn and doesn't bother to even try and look for her

Anyways I'll forever be mad that they gave this guy a whole super edition and he'll probably have the most dramatic death ever while Leafpool suffered her entire life (and afterlife) and got killed off screen. Hoping he gets jumped by rats and dies from infection

I'm not a big fan of it. It's one of the better written SEs and has a clear goal in mind, but every time I have to encounter it, it feels like it's sidelining the characters who actually deserve to be explored in favor of Crowfeather Sadboy Whinging.

Breezepelt has 12 books detailing how being mistreated by Crowfeather is making him worse, and showing that social alienation is pushing him towards the Dark Forest. Nightcloud was demonized by the old team even though they wrote Crowfeather deflecting all the blame of Breeze's behavior onto her, giving the new team a great opportunity to correct the mistakes of the old writers... and they decided to focus on Crowfeather instead.

And, mind you, they conveniently leave out massive details about how BADLY Crowfeather was abusing his child.

There's this one part of the book where he learns that Breezepelt broke his leg as a kid and he feels like shit for not remembering it, and it's supposed to be a big moment where Crowfeather realizes he was apathetic and careless. But he WASN'T just apathetic and careless. We see him TEACHING his child xenophobia in order to mock and offend Leafpool, smacking Breezepaw around for being 'rude' (the way Crowf always is), and screeching at him for having basic needs like hunger or rest.

Crowfeather WASN'T just a sad, sad boy who didn't pay attention to his kid because he was too busy pining over Dead Wife. What he did to Breezepelt wasn't just neglect; it was physical and emotional abuse.

The book DOES ultimately hold him responsible for how Breezepelt turned out, yes. But it doesn't properly focus on WHAT made Breeze come out the way he did. It wasn't genes, it wasn't Daddy Not Smile At Me. I can only assume the reason why they didn't address how ghoulish Crowfeather actually was is because they knew that being honest and direct about him abusing his child would make him unsympathetic.

Which is a problem, because, y'know, you can just make it Breezepelt's Trial and NOT have to thread that needle??

And furthermore... the book is trying to show Crowfeather addressing that he's kind of an asshole and moving on from it, earning deputyship as a reward for his growth, but what the book really demonstrates to me is that Crowfeather is a dickhead who actually shouldn't have ANY power at all. I don't understand why people would trust him or want him as their leader. I don't see any reason to think that he would be responsible with the lives of an entire Clan of people.

Before I hear clown shoes; if you think that means I "just don't like" that he would be an ""interesting leader,"" pile yourself back into the car with your 30 other jesters and drive away. I mean that it feels completely wrong that any character in-universe would look at the person who exists in Crowfeather's Trial, and say, "this is a person who would help me effectively rule."

What he does, all-book-long, is show that he's an emotionally unstable loose canon borderline incapable of self-reflection. Other characters have to directly tell him "you should try being less of an asshole" and "maybe be nice to your family sometimes?" while he comes up with bullshit reasons to seethe at every character who wanders into his line of sight.

I massively resent the fact that even Leafpool has to mommy his baby ass towards the end of the book. After he spends a good part of Po3 and OotS finding roundabout ways to snipe at her for not giving him exactly what he wanted. It falls on HER to be the one he can ask for advice on how to fix the family he treated like shit his whole life.

no that's not hyperbole she literally. textually. is compared to his mother.

and he can't even be gracious about it, he's instantly all huffy and offended, completely proving her point. Why the hell would anyone make this guy a deputy? The man needs TWO motherly figures giving him the exact same basic advice and a dedicated super edition before he adjusts his behavior even slightly.

(watch him get Boring Leader Syndrome the minute he inevitably becomes Crowstar, too)

Sooo, in a nutshell;

It's one of the better SEs. unfortunately.

Crowfeather is held accountable for being the problem in his own relationships, thank god

but it doesn't fully hold the actions we SAW in the main series books accountable, seemingly purposefully leaving out the worst things he did.

Another WC book where a male character gets an insane amount of sympathy and rewarding that female characters are NEVER deigned deserving of.

Should have been Breezepelt's story. I strongly dislike how Breeze's "redemption" was based on his shitty dad saying sorry. He deserved an actual character arc struggling with ever trusting WindClan again after they took his dad's judgement about him at face value.

Absolutely awful that Leafpool is killed between books and given a trial where they consider sending her to hell when they finally DO get around to showing how she died, while Crowfeather gets an SE about the whole world holding his hand so he can fix the family he broke in 5 easy steps.

Its biggest problem is that it is about a character whose actions you can go and read about. It doesn't deliver on the setup of 12 books of Crowfeather being an absolute git; it's a good story for the version of Crowfeather the new team seems to have created in their heads.

Doesn't stop me from manifesting him getting an infection and having a Sandstorm-tier disrespectful death in the upcoming series, lmao.

#warrior cats analysis

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smoooothoperator · 12 hours

Text

What Was I Made For?

03: Look What You Made Me Do

Charles Leclerc x driver!OC (Dafne Morelli)

childhood enemies, forced proximity, accidental pregnancy, enemies to lovers

Warnings: the day after, some misogyny:)

a/n: Hello hello!! This time is short one, I think... But is a very important one :) I had a rellay rough weekend because I'm sick and I still had to do some rehearsals (believe me, is not funny having a cold and singing at the same time) I hope you enjoy this chapter!!!!

Masterlist

previous part

If you want to be tagged don't forget to message me!

Every way of feedback is very welcomed

Something heavy was wrapping my waist. And the duvet is not that heavy.

And it feels warm… So warm… My whole body feels warm.

I groaned, opening my eyes slowly and groaning when the daylight blinded me.

“Fuck…” I groan, feeling an instant headache, probably the hangover from last night.

I looked down at that arm. Those rings… I know those rings. White and blue crystals. And a bracelet.

It can't be.

“What the fuck?!” I scream, turning around and finding him laying next to me. “Get out of my bed!”

“Fuck, Melanie… What the hell…”

Melanie?

I jumped out of bed and immediately noticed I was naked. Just like him.

“No…. No, no, no, no” I mumble, grabbing the first thing I found to cover my body. “Get out of here!”

He groaned, turning around and finally opening his eyes. The shock in his face probably was higher than the hangover, making him fall from the bed to the floor. He was naked. Completely naked. No shirt, no pants. No boxers. Nothing. Bare, completely bare.

“Get out of my fucking room” I said seriously, my blood boiling slowly.

“You are in my room” he frowned, covering his dick with his hand. “Get out. Where is Melanie?”

“Are you stupid?! This is my room! My things are here, look!”

He frowned, rubbing his eyes with his free hand and looking around. My suitcase was there. My backpack, my makeup bag, my book.

“Fuck” he whispered.

I clenched my jaw and looked at him. There's no way… There's no way we did it. Why? Why the hell did he come here after what he did last night?

“Get out” I groan. “Did you use a condom at least?”

“I would rather be dead than fuck with you, keep dreaming” he scoffed, grabbing his clothes and getting dressed immediately. “I'm not one of those you can fuck”

“Fucking asshole” I groan. “You know what? You were right! I fucked with Mick! Go on, go tell everyone I did! Oh no, wait. You already did last night”

“See? You don't deserve the seat” he scoffed. “You do exactly what people thought women would do to get in this sport. Fuck your way into a seat. You are a…”

I frown looking at him and then at the shoe that was on the floor next to me. I clenched my jaw and grabbed it, pointing at him with it, threatening him.

“Come on, say it if you dare to. I am a what?” I scoffed. “Get out of here before I call the security of the hotel. Get the fuck out of here before I kill you!”

“You won’t do that” he laughed, collecting his clothes. “You are too soft, you even apologize when you take someone off track. See? You shouldn’t be he-”

The heel of my hand flew to the other side of the bed, hitting him right on the chest. He looked at me with a mix of surprise and anger, rubbing the spot where the heel hit him.

“The next one goes to your eye, you hear me?” I groaned, grabbing the other heel.

“You are crazy!” he groaned, grabbing all his clothes and running out of the room before I did what I promised.

“You don’t know a shit about me” I groaned right when he slammed the door.

When he closed the door I was still standing in the middle of the room, feeling shivers all over my body, making me run to the bathroom and throw up.

I feel gross, so gross. I barely remember what happened last night, only that he humiliated me in front of all the people that attended the party, then someone dragged me out of the club and brought me to my room. Then hard knocks… And his lips pressed on mine.

Why didn't I stop him? What the hell is wrong with me? Why did I let him do whatever he wanted?

“You are better than this” I said, looking at myself through the mirror, pointing at the reflection. “This is just a bump in the way, a small obstacle to avoid. He won’t get on your nerves, you are better than him. Yesterday you showed it. It is time to show him who you are”

I took a deep breath and smiled at the reflection, nodding. I am better than him.

I grabbed clean clothes and headed to the shower, taking a long time to get ready and relax, washing my body over and over again, needing to erase every mark of his fingerprints on my skin, needing to erase every bit of him.

He will regret every word or thing he did to me. Not only what he said yesterday. I’ll make him regret everything he did to me.

Driving out of the hotel was as tedious as I thought it was going to be. Maybe even more.

My family probably left to go home early this morning, so I was now on my own, with sunglasses to hide the dark circles under my eyes, music to entertain me, and a long way to my home.My phone was burning with messages and notifications, but since my manager was the one that took care of my social media, I just ignored it.

Until I received a call.

Fred.

Fuck.

“Hey, Fred… Everything okay?” I sighed, answering the call.

“Is it possible for you to come to the factory? It's important”

“Eh… Sure, I guess?” I frown.

“Good. It's urgent, so make sure to arrive as soon as possible”

“Alright” I sighed as he ended the call.

Urgent? What can be urgent to not wait some days to let us rest after the race? They normally let us have a free day before doing meetings and interviews.

Now the joy of winning a race is slowly slipping through my fingers, afraid of receiving a warning because I didn't work as a team.

But why would they give me a warning? I did everything they asked for, I obeyed and listened to my engineer. I was respectful with them and even with the cars around me, trying to make a perfect race without mistakes.

Before I knew it I was already driving through the Marinello streets, watching their people waving at me and walking towards my car as I approached the entry of the factory.

There was no one there, not as always. And somehow, that surprised me. They knew our cars, they were always waiting for one of us. But the entry was empty.

I parked my car and frowned when Charles' car wasn't there, and somehow that turned on the alarm in my brain.

They are not happy because I won? That's it?

“Hey, Fred” I smile nervously, closing the door of his office behind me. “So… I'm here. What was that important thing you wanted to talk about?”

“I heard that yesterday, during the party, things happened” he said. “That Charles started it”

“Oh… Yeah, that” I sighed, sitting on the chair after he pointed at it with his hand. “It's okay, I want to forget it. He was clearly drunk”

“We are aware of that” he nodded. “You’ll see… We are aware that being a woman in this sport is hard, that the way here wasn't as smooth as a man can have. And we are so proud to have you in the team…”

“But?” I sighed. “There's a but there, right?”

“But…” he nodded, smiling weakly. “Well, I want to know that whatever he said is not true”

“What?” I frowned. Is he really asking that?

“It's for your own good” he said quickly, raising his hands. “We want the best for the team, and we want to have a good image of our drivers…”

“You want me to tell you that I didn't get my success because I sucked someone's dick” I scoffed. “Right. Well, let me ask you something? You've got this position because you bribed the owner?”

“That's out of context” he frowned.

“No it's not. It's exactly the same” I frowned, standing up. “I succeeded because I never gave up, no matter how many people thought the same as you about me. I gave nothing but blood, sweat and tears for this dream. None of you have an idea of what it is to be a woman in this sport. So please, don't you ever assume I sucked someone's dick to have a seat because it's never and will never be true”

I saw his jaw clenching a few times, looking at me with serious eyes. My breathing was heavy, somehow altered with all the anger I have been feeling for the last hours.

“I'll make Charles apologize in public” he said.

“And one last thing” I said, swallowing thickly. “Never make me record things or be in the same room as him to act like friends. What happened last night was enough to test my limits, and he clearly didn't respect them at all. He never did, anyway. Don't make me be friendly with him ever again”

“Sure” he nodded. “He will be punished for his behavior”

“Thank you” I sighed, taking a deep breath and walking out of the office.

What the fuck is wrong with this world?

Going home was a thing I wanted more than anything. I wanted to lay on my couch, watch my favorite series and cuddle my cat.

“Hey Athena” I smiled, looking at the blue eyed Ragdoll that came towards me, purring and rubbing her head against my legs.

I left my suitcase and bags in my room, throwing myself into my bead and groaning. My cat came, purring and rubbing her head against my cheek, laying next to my head.

“Oh, Thena…” I sighed, kissing her little head. “Men are so stupid… We don't need them, right? They think they can be better than us, stronger than us… But a world only dominated by men would end like something similar to the Wall-E movie. Or even in another war. Uhg… Stupid men”

Athena blinked slowly, purring loudly and licking my cheek softly, making me smile and sigh.

Life is better when you have a cat. Fuck men.

I sigh and sit on the bed, picking up the white and brown cat in my arms, smiling when she climbed up to my shoulder to sit there. I smiled, rubbing her head softly, and walking towards the kitchen.

“Oh, Nina came to feed you, hm?” I smiled softly. “You were a good girl so she gave you wet food, huh?”

I smile, feeling ber head bumping against mine as I talked with her softly.

My home is my safe space. I can be myself, free of hate and the competition. Free of people that want more and more of me. Here I'm only Dafne, nothing else.

“See? Even fictional characters are idiots sometimes” I sighed, looking at the TV and pointing at Sebastian Stan while rubbing Athena's head. “Look at him, he acts nice at the start and then he ends being in the mafia”

Athena looked up at me, purring and somehow killing me with her eyes.

“Right, we love Sebastian Stan” I nodded, chuckling when I heard my cat's soft meow.

When the movie ended I sighed, grabbing the plate of my lunch and putting it in the dishwasher.

I should plan things for this week, choosing outfits for the interviews and events, reserve hotel rooms near the events. I have to do so many things…

The ringtone of my phone made me flinch, sighing softly when I saw Fred's name on the screen.

“Hey” I sighed. “L-look, what I said earlier..”

“Charles refuses to apologize” he interrupted me.

“As I imagined” I scoffed. “And that punishment? He won't race in the next race? Will you fire him?”

“We will put the updates on your car on the next race” he said. “And we'll prioritize you over him”

“What?” I frown. “Are you for real? Only that?”

“There's anything else we can do, Dafne…” he sighed.

“There is! Is not fair, Fred! He questioned my whole career!” I exclaimed, madly.

“And we will have a heavy talk with him about this” be frowned. “Is the middle of the season, I can't fire him”

“Right” I scoffed. “Well, I guess this is something that needs a lawyer”

“Dafne, don't do anything stupid” he said.

“Stupid? Stupid is what you call a punishment! He refuses to apologize? No worries! I'm sure a demand will make him change his mind” I scoffed.

“L-look… If you want I can give you a free week… so you can calm down and disconnect-”

“Calm down?! Oh, believe me, Vasseur. I'm really calm right now” I frown. “I thought that we were on a year where the equality was something real, but I guess that's only for the publicity and to have more followers, right?”

“You are taking this too far, Dafne…” he sighed.

“No I'm not” I said. “You talk about women in this sport but none of you respect us! What do I have to do to gain everyone's respect? Put a warning too? Because it seems that winning a race is not enough”

“No” he sighed. “No, I'm sorry, okay? I'll make everything to make sure he understands that what he said is wrong”

“Don't worry. I'll do that my way” I said. “I think it's about damn time for him to know that I'm not one of those girls he can play with”

“Just…” he sighed, taking some deep breaths before talking again. “Don't fight. Not physically, not verbally. Things are already messy”

“Sure” I sighed, ending the call and clenching my jaw.

Athena walked towards me, jumping on top of the table and looking at me with her big blue eyes. Of course she knows something is wrong.

“It's time to show him what he have done, Thena” I said, rubbing her head. “He said I am a bitch? Then I'll be a bitch. A really bad one”

taglist

@racinggirl @elisysd @alltoomaples @ssprayberrythings @rach3164 @yvonne-dump @deliciousfestsalad @janeh22 @hc-dutch @ninifee1802 @kakorrhaphiphobia @ssararuffoni @itsjustkhaos @scaramou @tapedeck-hearts @apollosfavkiddo @sltwins @glitterquadricorn @ladystardust05 @theseerbetweenus @vizzzashley @auawdo

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froznwater · 3 days

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im so sorry this is incredibly random but if i dont write alenoah i WILL die but i cant think of anything to write. do u have any simple ideas. ignore if not

HI!!! tysm for your ask <3 i hope you can find something to write amongst all the ideas. These are a bunch of ideas have written down in my notes/google drive/tumblr posts and have not got gotten around to. I still might at some point in time but feel free to use them. I will still do my own take if I get the time/motivation. There's simply so many, why not share and inspire some fics :)

----

General ideas:

Noah knows/learns spanish. Bonus points if Alejandro isn't aware until the perfect moment.

Alejandro thinks he can get away with flirting with Noah in spanish. Noah starts shit talking in spanish. Noah learns so he can hear all the little comments Alejandro keeps making under his breath. etc. so many possibilities.

Now that the show is over and Noah's off to college, he realizes he’s missing something in his life. Maybe it’s his friends, maybe it’s a lack of ever-looming danger, OR maybe it’s Alejandro. Who fucking knows. He’s too busy trying not to be in love with Alejandro to figure it out.

Their group project is failing, horribly. There’s one thing Noah knows for certain: Alejandro's to blame. At what point does slippery eel turn into a term of endearment?

They have never ever fallen asleep next to each other. Let alone in each other's arms. Never.

Time loop where Alejandro is stuck on the episode where Noah gets voted out and sticks himself to falling in love because he can’t let go of his pride long enough to simply let Noah stay in the game and move on.

Noah loses his contacts and starts wearing his glasses more often. Alejandro notices. Everyone notices Alejandro notices.

Alejandro and Noah team up to get their friends together (insert whatever ship you like) and end up together in the process/the other two were trying to do the same thing for them.

A commentary timeline on how Alejandro's charisma turn into exploitation, how Noah's patience turned into indifference, and how they parallel each other. (I've written a few hundred words for this one lol.)

Each thinks the other doesn't like them. Cut to third party POV that watches and witnesses them completely a mess for each other.

Noah, once voted out in I See London, learns about Alejandro's family. Who have been very vocal since the show started airing.

Exploration of how Alejandro tries really really hard. Yes, He's at the top of the class, but so is Noah. Noah who sleeps through classes and doesn't turn in homework and shows up late or simply not at all and is still right up there with him.

“I would kill to be like you. To just absorb all the information fed to me. If I were you I might actually- “(beat my brother) “Might actually what?” “I told you. I don’t want to talk about it, Noah.” - "Do you know how long I studied for that test? Hours. And you- You got a 96 with no effort at all." It was a 98. But this seems like a bad time to correct him.

Dialogue one-liners prompts i've written down:

"If we make it out of this alive, I'm going to kiss you."

“Why do I feel like I cant say no to you?”

"I know you don't actually care about me, but thank you for trying to pretend that you do." (Said by Noah is joking. Said by Alejandro is bitter.)

"You can't win against someone who has nothing to lose."(Alejandro OR Noah angst.)

Soulmate aus:

My big two: Telepathy/Mentally linked.(imagine this one as a wt rewrite omg) And Whatever you draw on yourself shows up on your soulmate. Matching tattoos.

First words on each other. (I've done this one already here. but feel free to do it as well!!)

Communicating through dreams. (If you know cardcaptor sakura; like that.)

General AUs:

Until dawn AU.

Gakuen Alice AU.

My Babysitters A Vampire AU. Zombie Apoc AU.

Harry Potter AU. Reality Dating Show AU.

Infinity Train AU!!!!!!

Veronica Mars AU!!!! (i wanna do this one ALOT noah is sooo veronica LMAO) OBLIGATORY IDEAS:

seven minutes in heaven.

wrong number.

trapped in a closet.

movie night. noah is sitting under alejandro and lol they are physically, platonically touching for awhile. (leads to finally getting together).

one gets injured, the other fixes them up in the nurses office :P.

short "prompt-ishs" i've started writing:

“What the hell is your problem, Alejandro?” And this time, the tone was so disgusted, so bitter, that something snapped, deep in Alejandro’s chest.

Fuck it.

“What’s my problem?” He asked, incredulous. “What’s my problem? You’ve got to be kidding me, Courtney. I almost died. I almost died, paralyzed and alone, and the only friend I thought I had didn’t give a single shit! The only person who cared was Noah, of all people. I quite literally come back to life and the only thing you can do is whine about your girlfriend problems.”

Courtney takes a step back.

“I was stuck in a robot for months, my legs barely work, my family moved on- actually, I don’t know if they ever actually even noticed,” He laughs, broken, “- and you have the audacity to ask me what my problem is?!”

Alejandro is over playing nice. He’s had enough.

this one is a rivals team up to get out courtney blurb

little idea about Alejandro getting into zodiacs.

moments where alejandro questions why Noah is so attractive

SEND MORE ASKS IF ANYONE HAS ANY QUESTIONS ON ANY OF THESE IDEAS!!! / IF THEY HAVE ANY IDEAS OR CONCEPTS TO ADD OR EXPAND ON :)))

#alenoah #fanfic #fanfics #total drama #total drama alenoah #td alenoah #ideas #masterlist

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adickaboutspoons · 3 days

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Oh boy. Okay. Here we go

A totes calm and measured response to this post over here by @themetabridge. Forgiveness for the whole new post. I had too much to say to fit into what Tumblr apparently thinks is an appropriate length for a re-blog.

First? I mean. Text just means the words and actions as they are said and shown in a given piece of media being analyzed. Which is what I’m here to do with my meta – textual analysis. That’s why I insist on textual support for any argument interpreting the media in question. Naked assertions do nothing to explain how you arrived at your conclusion. Vibes aren’t good enough. Show me what IN THE TEXT made you think what you think, and I will do you the courtesy of the same. Otherwise, I don’t see how we could possibly have much to say to one another.

The fundamental breakdown we are having is that you have failed to provide a textual basis for why you think Ed is a bad person. While I respect your assertion that a person’s essential goodness is predicated on the actions that they perform, I cannot respect the corollary supposition that there are actions that are either “good” or “bad” in a vacuum, as this completely ignores circumstance and motivation. WHY someone does something is AT LEAST as important as WHAT they did.

For example - Stede killed Ned Lowe in cold blood. Does it matter that he did it because Ned “shit-talked [his] friend and damaged [his] ship,” and “fucked Calypso’s birthday”? Does it matter that Ed, the person whom Ned’s shit-talk actually impacted, told Stede not to do it? Twice? Does it matter that Ned was a subdued enemy combatant, and as such could have just as easily been gagged like Hornberry and the overtly racist Wellington, who survived imprisonment and went on to watch Ed and Stede sign the Act of Grace? Do we compare Ned to the French Captain who got flayed for his racist rhetoric, though Ned’s comment was, strictly speaking, about Ed’s class rather than his race? How far are we going to go to disentangle class and race when one absolutely informs the other?

How about a more straight-forward example; Stede set an unnamed man on fire and quipped about it like some asshole 80's action hero. Does it matter that he threatened Stede’s life? How about if, when he did so, he was twenty feet away, armed only with the bottle he had just broken over his head, and there were half-a dozen pirates between him and Stede who all thought Stede was hot shit, and so Stede was in no immediate danger? What if Stede has a long history of people making attempts on his life, and being unsure that he even deserves to live, and this is meant to show that, now that he has something to live for, he’s done with the part of his life where he lets anyone try to take that away from him?

This is what I mean when I say that the show is careful to never outright condemn the use of violence. The narrative tells us clearly that, within the context of the show, some things are more important than an unnamed or one-off character’s life – preservation of one’s own life or the lives of one’s loved ones, dignity in the face of racially-based persecution, resistance to colonial oppressors. The reasons for and direction of violence matters. Context matters.

And speaking of context, you misunderstand me when you suppose that only what literally appears before our eyes counts can be “read into the text”. I refuse to give extra-textual sources of information (such as the historical reality of sergeant recruiters and being pressed into service or the historical Golden Age of Piracy) any weight unless they can be validated by in-text support, because the show itself cares fuck-all about historical accuracy. But extrapolations about the in-show universe based on in-text support are fine.

So, considering that the very first thing we hear in the show is Frenchie’s little ditty about the violent reality of a pirate’s life, and considering Jack’s comment at brekkie about how pirating is an "ugly profession”, and considering what we see of the raids in 1x5 and 2x2, we can reasonably conclude that pirate culture is steeped in toxic masculinity where the expectation of performing violence is de rigueur. Because Ed has carved out a successful reputation as Blackbeard, and because we see the ease with which he can go from being casually conversant with Stede to “giving it some oomph” to scare the location of the treasure out of the French captain in 1x5 with the THREAT of violence, we can reasonably conclude that he can successfully perform the required violent displays of piratical society (or at least, given that we know by his bathtub confession that he has not personally killed anyone since his father, he can adopt a convincing enough posturing that no one would doubt he COULD). From his interactions with Jack and familiarity with “yardies” and “whippies”, and his ruminations about “the old days” of “drinking all day and biting the heads off turtles or making some poor bloke eat his own toes for a laugh”, and Fang’s assertion that Ed made him kill his dog, we can reasonably assume that Ed has a history with casual violence for the sake of fun and cruelty for cruelty’s sake.

However.

I think “the old days” is an important qualifier there. Season 1 Izzy may be frustrated that Ed is not performing Blackbeard sufficiently well to suit him (on that point we can agree), but even by his own deathbed confession “for YEARS I egged [him] on, even though I knew [Ed] had outgrown [the Blackbeard persona]” (emphasis mine, and pin in that for a moment). In 2x1, Fang is crying into his cake saying “I’ve never seen Blackbeard like this” - indicating that the conditions of the Kraken era are NOT the norm. The slivers of Ed we see in 1x3 before the Spanish raid are marked by him speaking calmly and rationally to Izzy (in stark contradiction to Izzy’s insistence that he’s half-mad) never even raising his voice much less using threats or any actual violence to get Izzy to do what he wants. In fact, it is Izzy who suggests a course of action involving very normative piratical violence (“Do we open fire? Or would you rather we just attack them, kill them, throw them out to the sharks, sir?”), which Ed counters with a genteel proposition - inviting (not even ordering!) Stede aboard for a face-to-face meeting. Izzy being comfortable enough to push back against orders (“Oh, Edward, can’t I just send the boys?”) even suggests that he feels no threat from Ed at all. Every indication is that by the time we meet Ed, well before he ever meets Stede, he’s already well past done with violence for violence sake.

When Ed does meet with Stede, before he’d fallen in love (Even though the are the U-Hauliest, I would argue “fascination” with a possible side of “infatuation”, but certainly not yet love), one of the early conversations they have is about the depiction of Blackbeard in Stede’s book of pirates. Ed expresses revulsion and anger that the persona that he’s worked so hard to cultivate has been twisted into a hyper-violent parody - a “Vampire Viking Clown” that’s barely even human, with a head of smoke and overladen with weapons and hardly bears any resemblance to the real man. We’re meant to understand that this is not a valid or accurate representation of who he is. Violence is a normative part of pirate life, but he has “one knife, and one gun JUST LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE” (emphasis mine, again) - he doesn’t shirk from using the tools of violence when it’s necessary, but he is NOT excessively or wantonly violent.

And we SEE the evidence of this because of how Stede reacts to the way Ed acts around Jack. Jack keeps Ed drunk all day, decoupling his inhibitions from his decision-making processes and, in spite of Ed explicitly saying that he’s mellowed out, Jack eggs him into the kind of hyper-violent Jackassery that is excessive even for pirate society if the nervous reactions of Stede’s crew are any indication. Of course, this is all part of Jack’s plan - to manipulate both Ed and Stede and force them apart - and the reason that it works is because the way Ed acts around Jack is NOT the way he chooses to act under his own volition, hence Stede’s frustration and disappointment.

While I agree that piratical violence is not political praxis, I would argue that, considering that every raid we have witnessed Ed participate in has been against a representative of colonial power and, more often than not, specifically the enforcing arm thereof, it’s not unfair to conclude that Ed’s reasoning goes that if piratical violence is to be done, better against someone who deserves it than not - i.e. those who perpetuate the violence of colonialism. Regarding instances of violence outside the context of raids, here’s where we take that pin out of Izzy. Izzy and Ed are locked in a cycle of abuse over the first season, wherein Izzy decides that Ed is not Blackbearding hard enough, and, because he feels entitled to controlling Ed’s actions, bullies and harasses him into capitulating - typically in the form of performing violence. Afterwards, Izzy performs some form of deference - apologizing and/or acting as though he’s going to leave, which Ed “talks him down from” and mercifully allows him to stay. It’s why, when Ed sees Izzy packing up a dinghy (lol. With what? It’s not like he’s on his own ship or would have brought his things with him, or sacked plunder from the Revenge. Clearly he was just stalling until Ed noticed him and swooped in to do his part of the cycle) he tells Stede he “should deal with this,” as though it’s tedious, but normal occurrence. I think an important part of this cycle as the season progresses, though, is how Izzy keeps upping the stakes.

So by the time we get to the end of the season, when the last iteration of the cycle starts up again (when Ed is once more insufficiently Blackbearding by being emotionally vulnerable and open with the crew following his return to the Revenge and his stint in the pillow fort (note that Izzy is apparently FINE with Ed not being Peak Pirate, just as long as he hides it away from everyone), and Izzy once more bullies and threatens Ed) this time it is especially cruel - Izzy is a thumb in the wound, attacking Ed at his most vulnerable and saying it would be better if Ed was DEAD than “pining for his boyfriend.” This iteration now also brings with it a history of escalation (first in Izzy bringing Fang and Ivan in to force Ed's hand about killing Stede, lest he look "weakened by the love of a pet" before his crew, and therefore in danger of mutiny, and then by bringing in the British Navy to force Ed to take Izzy back - or rather, to force Izzy back into Ed's life because the terms of the agreement see Ed remanded into Izzy's custody as though he is property to be distributed at the will of the Brits) - an established pattern of the lengths to which Izzy will go to get what he wants, and so a very real threat implicit in Izzy’s warning that “Ed had better watch his step” as Izzy serves only Blackbeard. So Ed gives him what he wants. He Blackbeards it up just like Izzy insisted, and lets Izzy know in no uncertain terms that the insubordination is done. It’s not a "frat boy prank" when he cuts off Izzy’s toe and feeds it to him, or even something from which he's deriving pleasure as he might have in the old days; it’s a calculated, proportional response, done under duress and against his own inclinations, but exactly the tool required to get the message across clearly.

As to the question of why it matters if Ed is bad, first and foremost, because saying that he is bad requires you to explicitly read contrary to the text. If you’re not going to engage with the text on its own terms, I don’t see how you can do any analysis of what story it’s trying to tell. I already discussed the ways in which the narrative is specifically about how Ed is NOT bad, even when he himself thinks he is. I have also discussed how, while “violence is never the answer” may be broadly understood to be the correct way of comporting oneself in real life, the show never condemns violence across the board. The show condemns cruelty, both on an interpersonal and societal level, but positions the use of violence as an acceptable and reasonable response thereunto. It treats circumstance and motivation with nuance and weight. Living within this context, Ed’s use of violence by the time we meet him is well within the normative acceptable application thereof. Judging him by standards outside the context of the story within which he exists makes as much sense as judging the Stede from the show for being a slave owner because that’s historical fact - that’s just not applicable to who he is in THIS story.

But more importantly, it matters because Ed is a POC character. Describing him as “cruel and perverse” for utilizing violence, particularly when the violence he uses is NOT excessive or impulsive, perpetuates negative race-based stereotypes about hyper-violent men of color. Characterizing him as “bad” for his use of violence when other (white) characters, such as Stede, use violence in similar ways, or are cruel or petty, but can still be considered, on balance, “good” means that Ed is being held to a different, higher standard than those white characters, and perpetuates the frankly racist criteria of expecting POC exceptionalism for POCs to be considered for the base-line assumptions of acceptability that are afforded to their white counterparts. Saying that Stede’s love is what changed Ed’s behavior from cruelty to wholesale abandoning piratical principles is not only antithetical to what actually happens in the show, but suggests a read that POC Ed needs a good white man to show him how to behave, a real white knight to tame his savage heart. That’s some real White Man’s Burden shit there, bro. I highly recommend you put it down.

#Brevity? I don't know her #ofmd #our flag means death #my modest contribution to fandom #crew4life #permanent ink

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niobiumao3 · 2 days

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So, here's what X-Men 97 did that TBB did not, for its main character death. Obviously, huge X-Men 97 and TBB spoilers.

The death happens at a pivotal moment story wise, but is NOT immediately abandoned for other plot.

Remy (Gambit) dies towards the end of an episode which is in and of itself a real jaw-dropper, much like Plan 99. Out of nowhere a safe haven for mutants is being glassed, and Remy sacrifices himself to put a stop to it, because he's a little crazy but also well aware of what he's capable of and knows it might be their only chance to save SOME of these people who are his fellow mutants. The episode ends with his lover, Rogue--who's finally decided she agrees with Remy on things and is going to choose him and the X-Men over an alternative--holding his lifeless body in her arms.

Tech, on the other hand, dies 1/3 into an episode and vanishes from sight. Our POV character here, Omega, is injured and doesn't witness most of the ensuing escape, so when she wakes up, she demands they go back for him, crying, and we see Wrecker cry and Hunter explain he didn't make it.

...and then the episode keeps going. They're betrayed. A villain tosses Tech's broken goggles at Hunter and threatens them. Omega is captured, the remaining members of the Batch barely escape. For almost twenty minutes of runtime AFTER Tech dies, the story keeps going and has NOTHING to do with him dying (save the dig about the goggles). His death gets maybe, at most, 2 entire minutes of focus between Omega and Wrecker's reactions, Hunter's when Hemlock gives him the goggles, and Echo looking at the empty pilot's chair. That's it; for the bulk of the episode Tech's death has next to ZERO involvement in the story. It's not the climax. it's just A Thing Which Happened, and that massively devalues it from a narrative viewpoint. No one stops for more than a single breath to react to it, thus we as the audience don't.

(If anyone is winding up with 'that's because they can't due to the everything', this is why it's NOT GOOD WRITING. If you want the death to matter to your viewers/audience then you need to MAKE the time for it in your story, somehow. This isn't real life, you DO in fact control the horizontal and the vertical when making your plot.)

In X-Men 97, the death is the immediate focus of the next episode and a character's entire arc of the ensuing episodes. In TBB, it's a footnote.

In the following X-Men 97 episode, Remy has a funeral which Rogue doesn't attend, not because she doesn't care but because she's off raging against the machines, trying to find those responsible and kill them. There's a gorgeous eulogy for Remy, some thinking back on who he was and what he meant to them, a friend angry at Rogue for not being with them. It's so good. We cut to Rogue, absolutely furious with grief and looking to take it out on, well, everyone. She winds up putting herself into a coma as a result.

Literally nothing like this happens for Tech. Nothing close. There's a several month timeskip in S3 eps 1-3 which negates any immediate mourning or revelations to people who wouldn't know (Crosshair, Phee, Shep and Lyana), and we see NONE of Wrecker, Hunter, OR Echo's processing. Just what we saw in Plan 99, which again, is almost nothing. For a main character who as of S2 had the third most screen time of any character.

In X-Men 97, Remy keeps coming up as someone to remind them of what they're fighting for, what he would want for them. Tech is a skillset and a pair of goggles.

Remy is the first thing on Rogue's mind when she wakes up from her coma. She's instantly grieving him all over again, and mentions him numerous times throughout the remaining episodes as someone who wouldn't want this for them, or would have hoped for that. He's a guide for her even though he's gone. The rest of the characters reflect on him off and on--not his skills or abilities, but who he was, his nature. Remy's death completely changes Rogue's behaviors, almost 180 degrees, as well.

Tech is mentioned for what he could do, not what he liked or didn't like, how he felt about things, save for once: when Phee reveals he told her all about Crosshair. This is the only time someone talks about him like people talk about Remy in X-Men 97, and it happens twelve episodes after he died.

No one's actual narrative course changes trajectory in the case of Tech's death either. No one is shown making different decisions based on his loss (just the lack of his skills), no one is bringing him up as a rallying call for themselves, nothing. He is excised from the show in terms of his emotional, character impact. The loss is of someone who can decrypt things or knows stuff, not of a beloved sibling.

Remy's presence remains throughout the rest of X-Men 97, despite him dying in episode 5 of 10. Tech vanishes and becomes an occasional reason they have to do something the hard way and a background prop.

If you want to know how to actually write a main character death and have it MATTER and make it good story telling, watch X-Men 97.

#star wars #the bad batch #spoilers #x-men 97 #x-men 97 spoilers #tbb tech #tech tbb

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solargeist · 19 hours

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you made a post explaining him becoming a watcher.. can we hear about him running away, the relapse, etc, pretty pretty please? :>

with a cherry on top? lol!

hmmm !! It might not be as long as the other post, but...

The body horror of changing into an angel isn't the sole reason Grian wanted to leave the Watchers, there was a brief moment in time where he wondered if it'd be worth it, but wings are the first to grow, the rest take much longer as they're not as needed as wings are. Despite how much it hurt, he's pretty proud of his wings, and he enjoys flying.

He sticks around long enough to learn how to fly, he gets rly good at it, flinging himself down the halls followed by a strong breeze, flying up high in the air outside and then dropping, he gets confident in this. (hes like rainbow dash to me-)

Along with that, he studies Watcher magic, he learns Portal magic, which is being able to open portals without the help of obsidian or rituals. This can also be used in fights, see: opening a portal where a person's head is, or a tiny strip shooting from his fingers like bullets, (like lasers, but those bits of flesh end up somewhere.) but the part he focuses most on is opening portals to other servers. He's always supervised, they always visit servers with him--but usually close it without going through anyway. The Watchers are more precise with it, knowing exactly where they want to go, Grian only opens random ones.

Other reasons he wants to leave is, being treated like a child, the lack of control, the lack of autonomy. They control his sleep, his food, where he goes, what he does, even what he says. Along with studying and training, hes exhausted, the resentment builds over time, any nice moment is buried by bad ones. He trains with Flora, another Watcher, whose idea of training is to just release mobs after him, creatures he's never seen before, he's unsure if they shoot fire, poison, or explode. Being pinned against the ground by a creature with its teeth bared around his sword is a sight he doesn't forget. If Flora feels like he rly can't do it, she'll kill the creature herself. Grian doesn't forget how the blood and gore feels dumped on his face and body, nor the disappointed look on her face.

This all, along with knowing his friends have left him--and they're not going to save him, has him plotting, desperate to think of how to get out of the void. He can't just run away while on a Watcher job on a random server, they will find him.

He doesn't pick a date--theres no sun anyway, he doesn't know what days or weeks are anymore. Its one particular breakdown that makes him act, he has no full plan, but what he does have is explosives he's been collecting from servers over time and stashing under his bed. He doesn't pack anything, all he does is set the explosives off and runs. I haven't thought abt this particular part fully, it happens so quickly for him, if he makes eye contact with his mum on his way out, he doesn't hesitate to take to the skies, before he can lose his nerve.

Shooting out into the void, he doesn't have a plan, but he keeps flying as fast as he can before regret can catch up with him. He opens portals in front of himself and dives through as they shatter behind him, he doesn't know where hes going. He pops out in random parts of the void, different islands he doesn't recognize, he comes across servers torn apart by war or genuinely not safe enough to land, so he keeps going.

Grian doesn't know how long he's been flying, his sense of time is completely fried, but hes tired, he's never flown for so long before. He hops through another portal into another world, dark and quiet, but lights shining from large buildings scattered about, there must be a lot of players here so he thinks he should leave quickly, but before he can do that, his foot snags a tree top and throws him off balance, his attempt to catch himself only propels himself forward, crashing through branches and sliding across the dirt below. He doesn't know if it was the trees or the ground, but his left wing snaps, he doesn't know if he screamed or not, but he lays in the dirt writhing for awhile, muscles aching and emotions finally grasping at him, pulling him apart.

But ! Still not time to think abt all that rn, bc Xisuma finds him. Grian's first thought isn't that this is a player, all he can see under that helmet is eyes, and his first thought is Watchers--they found him immediately--and he screams this time, flipping over and putting his hands in front of himself for any fighting, he can't hear whatever Xisuma's saying over his own shouting, angrily stating he won't go back. He calms down after a moment when he sees Xisuma has stepped back, hands up to show he's friendly. Grian doesn't care though, hes sliding backwards on his hands, his wings twitch and he winces in pain. I think it takes a little bit of persuading, but after Xisuma explains himself, that hes an admin and this is his server and people, Grian calms down a bit, the exhaustion helps with this too. He ends up accepting Xisuma's help in bracing his wing. Taking him back to his base to do so, Grian would've ran again if he could've. They both agree that Grian will leave as soon as he can, but he is safe here to wait until then.

Back at his base, Xisuma makes them both tea and sits in front of Grian, telling him he has to explain himself. Grian doesn't touch his tea, and after a long pause, he gives the shortest story with the least amount of details possible. Xisuma knows what Watchers are already, so he does feel some sympathy for him.. He would feel concern abt the Watchers finding his server, but hes confident enough in his code. Grian stays that night, he hides under a bed and cries, still never drinking the tea, but he falls asleep.

UH fast forward fast forward Grian is invited to the server, and he does join as s6 starts, his wing still in bandages but doing much better now. He still hasn't met any players or heard much abt them. He's shocked to see Pearl, but also very happy--his sister !! his sister ?!?!?! She looks happy too, so he rushes forward and they hug, shes gotten so tall. He promises to tell her what happened later, but he still leaves out a lot of details.

This is getting long again fast forward fast forward again

The relapsing happens throughout s6, Grian overworks himself, insecure and nervous in his building ability--it almost feels like Evo again, wishing he could do better, scared to disappoint Xisuma and be kicked out for not being worth the trouble.

Grian's gotten rly close with his neighbour Mumbo, he'll take a break for Mumbo, to hang out with him. Grian has a problem with hoarding food, he never had control over it with the Watchers, so now on his own, he can't bare to throw anything out, he keeps things despite the smell or mold. Good bits of food sat with the rotten, but he doesn't eat either anyway, he just wants to have it, safe, where he can get to it easily, and he doesn't have to ask anyone. It takes Mumbo awhile to talk him into cleaning that out, its dangerous ! Even during the conversation Grian is slowly closing the cabinet Mumbo is trying to look into it, holding eye contact and desperately trying to convince Mumbo its fine (it is NOT.) Mumbos taken to sharing his lunch with him most days, or bringing snacks he claims he made too much of--or he bought too much by mistake, just to make sure he eats something.

Grian has a hard time living alone, he loses track of time and doesn't eat, or doesn't get the right amount of sleep. He feels lonely in his large build. The Watchers' controlled his entire life, so he doesn't know what to do with it now that its his again. When he thinks about it too long, it starts to ache, that little part of him never went away, the guilt, regret, and remorse, builds every time he doubts himself, he misses his bed !--Back in the void, that bed, this still doesn't feel like home, in some sick twisted way he feels homesick. Mumbo finds him at his base one day with his head buried in his knees crying, but when Grian notices he immediately pretends he was not crying, despite the red puffy eyes and tear stained face, he smiles and asks: whats up !! Hello whats up ! Mumbo laughs in horrified confusion, asking what happened. Grian says Nothing. Mumbo sits next to him and says c'mon mate what is this. Grian sighs and sinks back into himself, face dropping and exposing how tired he is. Grian slowly explains himself--at first leaving out many details--he just says he ran away from home before joining Hermitcraft, but he still misses his family sometimes--even if they hurt him. Mumbo thinks this is much deeper than he thought it'd be, but he encourages Grian to continue, and he does. Grian ends up telling Mumbo everything, absolutely everything, every humiliating detail and embarrassment, every memory good or bad. At some point they start telling family stories to each other, and Grian isn't crying anymore, they're both laughing, sat right next to each other. Its a huge relief. Grian poured his soul out to Mumbo and he held it so carefully.

late s6 and s7 go pretty smoothly--Watcher wise, Grian adjusts to life on his own and within a new community. Grian learns to fly again, he makes his wings his own and dyes them parrot colours.

I can't fit the rest, but he gets possessed by an alternate version of himself in s8, i think the Watchers find him as well bc of this timeline chaos. And the moons falling. Its a lot for him to emotionally deal with !

#ask #ANOTHER LONG RAMBLE POST #i forgor to mention 3rd life. that still happened. but i dont think the other games did. bc i cannot think of how to tie that into this AU #evoau #this isn't a fic this is just me talking but writing occasionally to make it flow better

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ikamigami · 3 days

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I feel really terrible for Sun, always have but especially now, I mean think about it, ever since the day he came online it has been an unpleasant ride Any one of the things that has happened to him would break most people, like the relentless verbal, emotional, mental, and occasionally physical abuse from Old Moon both before and after separation, then Eclipse came along and became another source of pain along with constantly robbing Sun of his bodily autonomy(especially since unlike Moon he wasn't locked to only coming out in the dark), the complete lack of friendship and care from the other animatronics, save for Monty and sometimes Puppet who think he's a joke, Foxy who's just plain selfish and tries dumping his crap on people, Roxanne who just tossed him out, Golden Freddy who thinks Sun is not worth much, Bloodmoon being an active threat and source of guilt after being killed, the Creator just being a pure existential menace, getting locked inside a tiny box where he couldn't even move next to a mirror for who knows how long by Moon, the October takeover, July 16th, constantly being teleported to perilous dimensions on a whim, dimensional threats constantly coming out of the portal Moon made on a whim, then Moon's death, which he blames himself for, even though I'd argue it wasn't 100% his fault considering Eclipse was going to impale him with a sword and neither Golden Freddy or Old Moon bothered to teach him how to control his magic so he wouldn't have an outburst, and Golden didn't supervise him when Sun had to put the runes down since Sun had only one shot, Lunar getting blown up, Eclipse getting the star and making everyone hate their guts along with just being threatening by virtue of all the power he now had in his hands, all of the grief and stress...And I know I am missing a lot of other bad things But then...Things started getting better, Earth was kind and patient, New Moon had so much more empathy and integrity and even if it was rocky at the start New Moon just being there and being a decent person helped Sun start to heal even if it was off-screen which doesn't count or at least got a break, Lunar came back and started healing too, Eclipse was finally destroyed, Solar joined in, things started getting brighter, even if his issues weren't fully addressed things were looking better Even when Ruin appeared, the family managed to pull together and seemingly deal with him even if Bloodmoon and Eclipse were revived, which was stress all on its own, yet despite Ruin they managed to pull through and were okay, even when Earth got hurt things bounced back quickly ...Then Solar's death, there was great grief over Solar but it seemed things might be alright, but since then everything has gotten exponentially worse, Moon completely spiraled out of control, broke every promise he made, to so quickly transform into the opposite of who he was, who he promised to be, into someone willing to kill his own family if they get in his way, not even Old Moon dared to actually try and kill his family, or entertain the idea of making a deal with the Creator, in only a matter of a few weeks everything became a nightmare And after all that, being forced by Monty, Foxy, and Puppet to make the choice between effectively lobotomizing/resetting Moon, or killing him, either idea being too horrifying for him to consider, to the point that he's been crying all the time, and now this, having learned Moon almost killed Earth, leaving her half burned and in pain from star radiation for days, with the knowledge that had Puppet not gotten in the way she would've died It makes you wonder if he thinks anything will ever get better, or if this is all life is, a cycle of pain, isolation, and betrayal, yet the fact that he has not completely lost it, that he continues to try to love and do good despite everything... I hope things will turn out okay

Well said 👏

I don't need to add anything 🥹

Thank you, dear anon 💗

I also hope things will get better but I think that they'll go even worse before that.. after all Sun lost Moon once again.. I can't see him bouncing back from that too quickly.. 😔

But I'm sure that after the darkest of nights there will be the brightest sunset.. a new day.. and things will get better ^^

#anon #anon ask #ask answered #sun and moon show #sams #sams sun #sun and moon show sun #sams spoilers #tw trauma

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girlactionfigure · 1 day

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intifada washing

WHITEWASH (verb)

deliberately attempt to conceal unpleasant or incriminating facts about (someone or something). (Oxford Dictionary)

DOGWHISTLE (noun)

an expression or statement that has a secondary meaning intended to be understood only by a particular group of people. (Merriam-Webster Dictionary)

PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY

anything illegal or unethical that can be explained away under an innocent and probable guise [whether] true or otherwise. (Law Dictionary)

These calls for an intifada are not metaphorical. This is an explicit call to violence. The red upside down triangle emoji is what Hamas uses in livestreams before they hit their (human) target.

WHAT WERE THE INTIFADAS?

The word intifada comes from an Arabic word meaning “to shake off,” but it’s a term used for violent uprisings or rebellions. It was first used in the 1950s to describe the Iraqi Intifada, a series of violent protests to overthrow the Hashemite dynasty.

In the Israeli-Palestinian context, there have been two intifadas, which were campaigns of bombings, suicide bombings, stabbings, car-ramming, lynchings, and stone-throwing, primarily directed at civilians. It’s worth noting that the stones in question here weren’t small pebbles, but rather, large stones that killed people.

Some apologists claim that an intifada doesn’t necessarily describe a violent campaign because the word simply comes from the term for “shake off.” But this is a completely disingenuous argument, like claiming “Mein Kampf” simply means “my struggle” or “sieg hiel” simply means “hail victory.”

Objectively, the intifadas deteriorated the living conditions of Palestinians. It was in response to the intifadas that Israel enacted checkpoints and constructed the West Bank wall. Thousands of Palestinians were killed in the intifadas, both in retaliatory IDF attacks and by fellow Palestinians on the charge of being collaborators. If history teaches us anything, there is no strategic reason to call for an intifada. An intifada won’t destroy Israel or free Palestine; it will provoke Israel to tighten restrictions. The only reason to call for an intifada is if one wishes for Israelis to be murdered. The only reason to call for a global intifada is if one wishes for Jews to be murdered.

ARE THE PROTESTORS CALLING FOR AN INTIFADA CALLING FOR VIOLENCE?

Unequivocally, yes. While every person in attendance surely doesn’t understand what they are calling for, the organizers of the protests — those leading the chants and encouraging people to follow — very much know. In fact, they themselves have ties to groups that slaughtered innocents in the last intifadas.

Virtually all “pro-Palestine” protests in the United States are organized by groups such as Within Our Lifetime, Students for Justice in Palestine, and Samidoun.

Samidoun has ties to the internationally-recognized terrorist group the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, has an office in Tehran, and is banned as a terrorist organization in Germany. The PFLP participated in both intifadas, killing scores of innocents, such as Dror Forer and Aran Bachar in 1993 (First Intifada) and three teenagers in the Karnei Shomron Mall suicide bombing in 2002 (Second Intifada).

Within Our Lifetime and Students for Justice in Palestine both openly support Hamas, other Islamic Republic proxies, and the October 7 massacre. SJP’s founder, Hatem Bazian, is also the co-founder of American Muslims for Palestine, an organization formed by former members of the HolyLand Foundation, KindHearts, and the Islamic Association of Palestine, all of which were disbanded after its members were convicted of transferring material support to Hamas.

Hamas took responsibility for two suicide bombings during the First Intifada and at least 54 suicide bombings during the Second Intifada.

To them — to the people leading these protests — the intifadas have always been synonymous with violence against civilians. In deed and in action, they are showing us that another intifada would be no different.

IS CALLING FOR AN INTIFADA ANTISEMITIC?

In this context, yes. Firstly, you have to understand that just about half of the world’s Jews live in Israel. In all Palestinian intifadas, all Israeli civilians were not only considered fair targets, but were in fact the preferred targets. If you believe every single Israeli is a fair target, then what you believe is that half of the world’s Jews are a fair target. That is no less genocidal than believing all of the world’s Jews are a fair target. Not even Hitler killed half of the world’s Jews; a third of the world’s Jews were murdered in the Holocaust.

It’s simply disingenuous to divorce calls for a Palestinian intifada from antisemitism. While Israelis of all backgrounds were killed at the hands of Palestinian terrorists in the intifadas, the terrorists sought Jewish areas, not, say, Druze villages.

During the intifadas, Palestinian leaders mobilized their population with explicitly antisemitic rhetoric, drawing from unfavorable Hadiths about Jews, the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, and even Mein Kampf. Both political and religious leaders delivered speeches and sermons rife with antisemitism. There is absolutely no reason to believe another intifada would be any different; the October 7 terrorists also mobilized with antisemitic rhetoric��(“Mom, I killed ten Jews!” one of the October 7 terrorists said excitedly in a phone call to his mother).

As far as the rhetoric prompting Palestinians to take up arms against Israel, nothing much has changed. In May 2021, for example, senior Hamas official Fathi Hammad went on the Hamas-run Al Aqsa TV channel and asked Palestinians in Jerusalem to “cut off the heads of the Jews.”

This is Izz al-Din Shuheil al-Masri of Hamas, who, in 2001, during the Second Intifada, carried out a suicide bombing at a Sbarro pizzeria in Jerusalem, killing 16.

Al-Masri, like other Palestinian suicide bombers, recorded a video before his attack, where you see him holding a Quran, as he, like others like him, justified his attack by pointing to Muhammad’s struggle against the Jews in the seventh century.

According to suicidologist Adam Czabański, Palestinian suicide bombers during the intifadas were predominantly motivated by the concept of an Islamic “holy war” against the Jewish state. In other words, they saw this as a matter of Muslims versus Jews.

DESENSITIZING THE PUBLIC

Maybe when you call for an intifada, you do not believe that you are calling for violence. Maybe you don’t believe that you are calling for the murder of Jews. Maybe your friends don’t either. But the thing is that it doesn’t matter. This is much bigger than you and your friends. You are getting swept up into a movement headed by groups with nefarious intentions.They are duping you, because they know you, like any decent person, want to stand on the side of justice.

No matter the state of antisemitism in the west eight months ago, you couldn’t just walk into a university quad and start openly screaming about killing Jews, because thousands of students wouldn’t join you that way. You start by desensitizing people to antisemitic rhetoric, through the use of dogwhistles and by relying on plausible deniability. This desensitization of antisemitic rhetoric leads to the eventual desensitization of antisemitic violence. This is how propaganda works, how dangerous people draw gullible people into their movements.

Consider that it took nearly six years from the Nazis’ rise to power for them to carry out their first antisemitic pogrom in 1938, euphemistically known as Kristallnacht, or “the night of the broken glass.” Despite the increasingly oppressive antisemitic policies in Nazi Germany, and the blatant antisemitic rhetoric and propaganda of its leaders, after Kristallnacht, the majority of the German public — and even some Nazi leaders! — expressed their disapproval of the violence, so much so that the regime ordered the press to downplay it. And yet, less than a decade later, by 1945, Nazi Germany had managed to exterminate six million Jews to little protest from the population. The desensitization happened incrementally. (I am not saying the Holocaust will happen again, so please don’t put words in my mouth. I am illustrating how people are desensitized to antisemitic violence).

ON THE IMPORTANCE OF LANGUAGE

Over the past decade, our society has taken great care to clean up its language, more than ever before. There are so many terms we’ve stopped using because they come from problematic histories and have been deemed harmful for a marginalized population. We’ve discussed microaggressions and political dogwhistles. We’ve talked about impact over intent.

Yet somehow we are meant to believe that when crowds of thousands led by groups with intimate ties to those with Jewish blood on their hands call for an intifada, something that, certainly in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, has only ever been a bloodbath, fueled by antisemitic rhetoric and incitement, we are meant to just trust that these people are not calling for violence against Jews? Please. How gullible do you think we are? Why do you continue to gaslight us?

When calls for an intifada are coupled with images of the inverted red triangle, a Hamas marker of violence, are we meant to believe that this doesn’t really imply violence against Jews? When you chant “there is only one solution, intifada revolution,” are we meant to ignore that this alludes to the Final Solution? That the chant explicitly rejects a two or a one-state solution in favor of violence against Israeli civilians, the majority of whom are Jews? When you scream for a global intifada, are we simply meant to ignore that the Islamic Republic’s terror network slaughters Jews not only in Israel, but in the diaspora as well? Are we meant to ignore that this rhetoric has correlated with the skyrocketing of violent antisemitic incidents elsewhere around the globe, including murder, kidnapping, synagogue bombings, and rape?

You are asking us to put a whole lot of trust that your violent words don’t actually mean violence just eight months after the single deadliest day for Jews since the end of the Holocaust.

#Israel #October 7 #HamasMassacre #Intifada #october7 #Palestinianpropaganda #propalestineprotesters #propalestinebullshit #metoounlessurajew #wehadenough

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