#don’t even try to save me I’m drowning in my love for him

[ponderingmoonlight]

Realizing your true feelings for Gojo after he stands up for you

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,4k

Synopsis: You told yourself countless times that you aren't able to like Gojo Satoru, that he is nothing but a jerk. Until he stands up for you, until he shows you what he really thinks of you...

Warnings: literally wrote this in my break at work so don't come for me lol, fluff fluff fluff, reader getting insulted

Oh, how much you hate the way basically everyone looks at you. Well, not technically you, to be exact. It’s rather the person walking next to you who drowns in attention every time you are forced to go out together.

Not that you’d understand the hype. Gojo Satoru, the blessed one, the honored one, the strongest fucking jujutsu sorcerer of your lifetime.

“What’s wrong? Feeling left out, (y/n)?”

And probably the biggest pain in your ass.

“You’re such a whore for attention it hurts”, you bite back while rolling your shaded eyes the way you always do the second he opens his mouth.

His laughter vibrates through your body, annoys you to the core. When will this madness finally come to an end? When will they finally begin to send you onto missions with Geto, Yu or fuck, even Nanami? Why on earth does it always have to be him?

“Caught me there I guess. But it’s not my fault that I’m easy to look at. Not like you.”

You force yourself to take a deep breath in and out, to calm your tingling nerves and stop your fist from twitching. That fucker has some really good nerves. Only the sound of his name next to you simply drives you insane, let alone his stupid comments and oh too annoying voice. Is there really anything good on Gojo Satoru, something you might like?

“I hate you”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“Aww, don’t be like that, (y/n). We both know that isn’t true”, he purrs, ready to grab your shoulder when you yank away.

“I’ll break your fucking nose if you touch me, jerk.”

“I’d love to see you try, princess.”

“I’ve never seen you around here.”

The sudden soft female voice that interrupts your rambling catches you off guard.

There she stands, an undeniable beauty with curves in just the right places and blonde hair that looks like strands of gold. The bluest eyes, the most breathtaking smile. And of course, her gaze is fixated on Satoru.

“That’s because it’s my first time here. After all, my eyes definitely wouldn’t have miss someone like you”, he replies with that cheeky grin you know oh too well, the cheeky grin that makes your blood boil in an instant.

Really? This is probably the worst time to start a flirty conversation. You were sent here to detect a special grade curse, to save this damned city from getting scorched. But he? He has nothing but her blonde hair and delicate smile in his pea brain

“Don’t you think that this isn’t the right time for a conversation like that?”, you mumble irritably.

“We’re just having a little talk. Who are you, his girlfriend? I highly doubt that. A girl like you would never have a chance with a guy like him.”

You have to blink a few times when her sugary voice spits at you with pure venom.

It shouldn’t bother you. Why would it? Gojo is the last person walking on earth you’d be in a relationship with, the last person who would ever want you. You, with your average looks. You, being a grade 2 sorcerer who has nothing special to offer. You, who never actually allowed herself to like Gojo. You, who is nothing compared to the woman standing in front of you.

Then why do her words feel like a knife in your heart? Why are you standing there like an idiot, sunglasses barely covering your pain? Why does his presence next to you suddenly sting so badly?

“Pretty disgusting words for someone with that face. Do you really think the world belongs to you because you look good? Let me tell you something: Apart from being hot, (y/n) is also unremarkable smart, astute and sarcastic. Someone as simple-minded as you should better avoid me. Now get lost, will you?”

What.

On.

Earth.

Did Gojo Satoru really stand up for you? No, did Gojo Satoru just call you “hot, unremarkable smart, astute and sarcastic”? Your heart almost beats out of your chest, pounding so roughly against your ribcage that you feel like fainting any given minute. A cruel storm of butterflies almost causes your guts to turn, makes you see stars. Are you dreaming, maybe? This can’t be reality. It’s impossible that-

“Hey, are you okay? I hope you don’t trust that stinky girl”, Gojo speaks out softly.

You can sense the way he eyes you up and down through his sunglasses, the little pout on his face revealing that he’s truly worried. Is that really the boy who teases you until you lose your mind completely? God, how much you hate him, how much you want to punch him into his stupid perfect face.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. But what is that little part of your brain that almost dies in excitement, then? What are those strange butterflies that never invaded you since you joined Jujutsu High?

“Hey, look at me.”

Your eyes dart upwards, get greeted by his bright blue orbs that look down at you in a seriousness you’ve never seen before.

“Tell me you don’t believe her.”

“She said nothing I don’t already know”, you reply dryly.

He shakes his head, still staring down at you with furrowed eyebrows. Who is this guy? What are those feelings? Why aren’t you able to look away like you always do? Gojo is only playing with you the way he does constantly. His bright blue orbs aren’t to be trust and you know it.

“I would choose you a hundred times before someone like her, (y/n).”

It’s like all life drained from your body, blank eyes staring at him in shock. This really has to be a dream. When was the last time Gojo has been nice to you? Probably never. He constantly teases you, drives you inane, makes you mad, makes you regret your decision to come to Jujutsu High and also…

Makes you feel save, makes you feel good about yourself, makes you feel affection.

Affection? For Gojo?

“I…I have to go”, you blurt out so abruptly that you almost trip over your own feet while trying to haste away.

He’s only picking on you like he always does. Gojo Satoru, considering a romantic relationship with you? You huff out loud, cheeks redden by the sheer thought of the dumb look you gave him. You aren’t better than the girls you despise so much, after all. He truly managed to wrap you around his finger like everyone else, even though you told yourself over and over to hate him.

What a pathetic jerk you are.

You spin around so fast you almost fall over, only to get caught in a pair of strong arms.

“You don’t believe me”, Gojo notes while keeping you in place.

“Why would I?”, you press out, not daring to look at him once again.

You need to get away from this cursed place, away from the honored one. It’s time to go back to normal, back to hating him with all your heart. Because this is all he is, right? Gojo Satoru is nothing but your rival…right?

“Maybe I can convince you with something else.”

Just when you’re about to protest and freeing yourself, he pulls you even closer and presses his lips against yours.

Time stands still, the lenses of your sunglasses pressing so violently against Gojo’s skin that they crack.

This.

This is the stuff your wildest dreams are made of, a dream you didn’t even allow yourself to think about. If there’s one thing that always seemed impossible to you, it was this. Why would you ever be more than Gojo’s rival, what is the purpose of seeing anything apart from a pain in the ass in him?

This right here.

Out of instinct, you wrap your arms around him as well, pull him closer and closer, take in his delicious scent. The sheer feeling of his lips collapsing into yours leaves you breathless, makes your lungs ache in the urge for air.

Until he lets go of you while panting hard, now glowing eyes fixated on you so intimidating that you feel yourself blushing.

“Believing me know?”

“You stained my sunglasses”, you breathe out mindlessly.

Tags:

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@risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny

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@okay-it-is-ivy @paridoliaaa

[salaimoi]

i wave goodbye to the end of beginning ˚. ✦.˳· ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

pairing: gojo satoru x fem reader sypnosis: he wasn’t what you desired anymore, but he couldn’t let you go. months passed since your bitter breakup, and yet, he didn’t stop loving you for a second. cw: slow burn. angst for the sake of angst. falling out of love for no reason fr. unrequited love. alcohol consumption (gojo only) no happy ending me thinks, or maybe somewhat. who knows word count: 3.1k

author's notes: i’m mourning gojo and so should you! so here’s a piece of an angsty fic that’s been rotting, unfinished, in my drafts since march 29. i was only gonna post a sneak peek of this and suddenly the holy spirit took over me and drove me to finally finish it??? IF U EVER READ ANYTHING OF MINE PLEASE LET IT BE THIS😭😭i’m so in love with the reader crying scene u don’t get it. the metaphors?! i outdid myself. i am so terrified of the deep ocean, and the fact that i find myself writing about it during angsty hours says a lot about me. i can’t emphasize how much i adore this fic. i just love angst sm idkidkidk

also, this is my first time attempting angst for the sake of angst as well as slow burn (?) so idk if i’ll ever come back to this. not beta read.

Time and again, this mahogany dining table was the scene of numerous heartwarming interactions – mementos Satoru wouldn’t be able to replicate a second time, even if he spent a thousand lifetimes trying to do so. Sure, it was more than easy to recreate the scene, but not the genuine warmth the two of you felt in that moment. He could go to great lengths, such as hand-crafting every single piece of furniture in the room that bore witness – carving and polishing wood until his palms became more splinters than skin. But even then, he wouldn’t come close to reliving any of those gratifying sentiments from so long ago.

All the shared laughter at his trivial attempts at comedy had caught up to you; your smiles were forced lately, and he could tell. He possessed that diamond-blue, six-eyed gaze which consistently made you feel as if he could undeniably read your thoughts, but that wasn’t the case. Even a blind person could discern the unforeseen shift in your comportment toward him, and due to this, Satoru questioned himself relentlessly. 

What if he’d said something to offend you? What if he left the toilet seat up one too many times for your liking? What if he began snoring in bed but you were too considerate to say anything about it? What if he forgot a special date? What if he tried to offer you something you were allergic to? 

What if he stopped being the love of your life...? 

It seemed as if, in a fraction of a second, all the enjoyment you once felt had deserted you, and with it, your love for him. Had you forgotten how happy you were by his side all in the spawn of a few hours, or was this the universe’s twisted interpretation of a joke?

Even if it was, you weren’t laughing.

You told yourself it was fine, that it was a mere wave of sadness that would soon pass, but instead the harmless tide you paid no mind to had brutally swept your body into a sea of despair. Before you could process your predicament, the shoreline was well out of sight – blurring with the deep blue expanse of the oceanic abyss that enveloped your mind.

The longer you fought to stay afloat, the clearer the path became for the briny water to replace the oxygen in your lungs, giving you no choice but to drown as everything around you became a pitch-black, bottomless pit – devoid of any sense of worry for you. 

It was rather often that you were accused of abandoning the ship when things got bad, and yet, here you were – submerging along with it.  

How ironic.

Even he couldn’t save you now. The solace his mere presence bestowed upon you when you needed it most wasn’t there anymore. There was no more capability of initiating conversations with him when you were the only other person in the room, causing the once-upbeat and soothing environment to give way to one of silence and uncertainty; it was as thick as syrup.

Syrup. The sugary taste of it from when you consumed it during breakfast was all but replaced by a repugnant, sour one in your mouth. A persistent echo of those homemade fluffy pancakes you had turned down remained, even though he had made them just for you — his precious girl. 

You insisted you would eat later – an obvious white lie to mask your despondency and lack of appetite – but he spoon-fed you, because in his own words, “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I allow my girlfriend to starve? No, that won’t do. I’ll take care of you even after I've exhaled my last breath.”

“And how would you do that if you’re no longer breathing, genius?” you asked, a wilting smile on your face that you had put on display for him. 

“Well, my dear," he retorts with a smug grin. "I've always believed that love has a way of transcending the boundaries of life and death. And as luck would have it, our love transcends the mortal realm. I will always be with you, in spirit if not in flesh.” he smiles, a twinkle of amusement behind his sapphire eyes before continuing.

“Once I've moved on to the afterlife, I'll find a way to send you sweet nothings and a box of chocolates from beyond the grave. Consider it an eternal gift.”

He declares in a complacent tone as he lounges back in his chair, head resting comfortably on the back of his hands. 

"But in all seriousness," he then adds, his tone becoming more genuine, "I'll do everything in my power to ensure you're taken care of – even if it means making sure my eternal resting place has a Wi-Fi connection for you to receive my messages.” 

Your thoughts were entirely silenced in that moment; white noise overtook the black space within your mind. How had he managed to say such heartfelt words as if they were second nature? This early in the morning, nonetheless.

Would he actually…?

You knew he would.

"But let’s not dwell on my demise just yet,” his words bring you back to the present conversation. “Until the day comes, I promise to make the most of our time together. Besides, knowing me, I’d probably haunt you just to ensure you have someone annoying to keep you company."

He finally remarked, going back to stuffing your face with the soggy pancakes that had been sitting in syrup for too long. 

And you were cognizant of the fact that you alone were privy to this side of Satoru Gojo: the mushy, gentle one who tended to his companion as if it were a god-given mandate. 

To the public, he was a stoic, impervious character who had no dread of others. To you, he was far more vulnerable than he would ever confess. 

But that wasn’t nearly enough to deter you from taking the disheartening decision made later that day.

“I can’t stay here anymore.” austere words you didn’t wish to speak, but needed to, in order to provide some semblance of closure for the both of you. “I can’t love you anymore.” 

A hushed supplication could be heard flying across the room at the speed of light once your hand reached out to turn the bitterly cold door knob, hitting against the back of your head – identical to an equally-cold shower.

“Please don’t leave me,” he immediately protested weakly. 

He approached you with cautious strides, every step causing fragmentation in his all-too-frail emotional state. Even if it was ephemeral, the mutual love between the two of you had already left a blazing watermark on his soul. His feelings for you transcended the nagging rationality that bound his mind, defying all sensible objections he had on the matter of permitting you to depart from his life. Having failed to quell the ardor her felt, it persisted apodictically until he was an arm’s length from your frame. 

And that was exactly it – the same frigid sensation your hand clinged onto emulated the one you felt in your wretched heart the moment he approached you. You’d already turned your back on him and expressed every afflicting anguish that tormented your soul, so why plead now? Now – when you already made the conscious decision to leave him behind. 

Tears neither you nor he could hold back began flowing down your features. A familiar hand lifted towards your cheek soon after, wiping the salty residue off your delicate face with his thumb. 

He never ceased to remind you how gorgeous you were when you cried, frankly because the manner in which your wispy eyelashes retained the saltine tears in your eyes resembled the delicate surface of a tranquil pond.

Every tear you shed would become the gentle water that tickled his skin as his body wafted about in your iris – an eternal reservoir he’d swim in without tiring if the heavens so permitted it.

However, this occasion differed from the rest; the once gentle waters he yearned to lay in became calamitous waves, which may lure him to the ocean’s most profound recesses in the blink of an eye – your blink of an eye. He would usually stay afloat among that innocent gaze of yours, but tonight it was ruthlessly drowning him with no lifeline in sight. 

Even after he implored that your crying would come to a halt, more pungent teardrops bled onto his fingers. An eroding desperation flowed through you, aching to hold onto something, anything, in order to cease the mental decay within your subconscious.

Thus, your own hand extended to hold his against your cheek, a glacial embrace overpowering the warmth of his skin; an identical chill tickled his spine when he absorbed the crispness of your graze, but he paid it no mind.

“Not you too…anyone but you,” he pleaded in a low voice, causing more accursed tears of yours to cascade mercilessly as he embraced you in an endeavor to sway your decision. His voice was gentle and soothing, mimicking a caress you’d never experience a second time. 

“I’m sorry.” you muttered.

Being unable to bring yourself to meet the sapphire eyes that imitated a midwinter sky so perfectly, your head lay low; the only thing visible to him was the top of it. 

It was unclear what you were sorry about. Perhaps you were sorry that you had to leave him behind. Or perhaps you were apologizing to yourself that he was no longer what you thought you wanted with every fiber in your body.

You desired more in this life, and on your game board, he wasn’t a playing piece who could frolic alongside you. It wasn’t because you didn’t fancy his company, rather it was the fact that his own strategy of playing was one that did not catch your eye anymore; it had become a monotonous rehearsal. Every move came to be a discernible one to you – even before he picked up his pawn, causing you to lose interest in the entire game itself.

That realization alone shattered his entire world.

Satoru’s head lay low all throughout as he sat on a wooden stool amidst the empty bar. It was 2 a.m. and he needed to go home, but why should he?

You wouldn’t be there to greet him – or even scold him for that matter. 

Colorless, almost lifeless, marbles stared vacantly at the picture of you on his lock screen; he consistently spoke to your picture as if he were having a conversation with it. At this point in time, it had become routine. Maybe one of these days the frozen-in-time frame would speak back to him for once?

Just once.

Where had that tender smile he’d fallen in love with gone?

Where had you gone?

On a nightly basis, the same detestable conversation from that night redounded from one end of Satoru’s mind to the other incessantly – akin to a religiously recited sermon. 

It was impractical to disregard the harsh reality that sooner or later every cherished individual he held dear to his heart willingly departed from his life – Suguru, and now you. 

If it entailed becoming a regular person, he’d give his life as a sorcerer to ensure the permanent presence of at least one individual in his life. Where was the value of possessing such prowess when one’s vulnerability in the realm of love was inescapable? 

What twisted transaction was that?

He'd even willingly forsake his divinely bestowed talents for the purpose of altering the passage of time, thereby reverting to a period where your presence was far from being nothing more than a diminishing recollection. 

Ijichi had been dealing with this side of his boss for months on end. Regardless of his efforts to encourage Gojo to put an end to this melancholic act of his, he never managed to convince him to do so. Ijichi attempted the compassionate approach, but to no avail. His optimism and patience were dwindling, fearing that this would continue on for eternity – and perhaps it would’ve if he hadn’t stepped in.

This had to end sooner or later, and for everyone involved’s sake, it had to be the former. So tonight, he opted for a sterner, and perhaps more unforgiving, path.

Your car was parked out front of the bar Ijichi had sent you the address to – forehead pressed against the steering wheel as an audible, exhausted sigh escaped your mouth. It was late and you knew this was nothing short of inane behavior. You weren’t doing this for you; you had to remind yourself that you were doing it for him, with the hope that he would ultimately find someone who would be there for him in a way that you were unable to. 

Weary, almost weak, legs lead you to enter the desolate bar. A knife prods at your chest when your eyes dart over to where Gojo was. He kept his head lowered; the only part of him you could clearly see from this angle was his back.

An overwhelming sea of emotions plagued your mind when you witnessed him in such a state. You could feel the knives twist the longer you stared at the back of his fluffy white locks. 

Months had passed since your split, and you realized Satoru’s grief and distress were indeed as dire as his assistant conveyed to you during the phone conversation. 

A tap on his shoulder was accompanied by a sweet voice that had vanished into the depths of his consciousness a long time ago. Perhaps because he didn't wish to recall the agonizing memories that came with your voice, or perhaps because he needed to maintain a pristine, untouched image of you in his psyche.

As you occupy a vacant stool one seat away from him, your attention is drawn to the half empty vodka bottle in his grasp. 

“You know, I talked to your therapist. He said you were getting sober.” 

What you said held true, except you didn’t hear it from his therapist directly; Ijichi was the one who was initially informed about that, and being the caring person he was, he relayed the details to you. Mostly because he felt as if, deep down, you still wanted to know about Gojo’s well-being.

"What are you doing here drowning yourself in alcohol?" you added, seemingly concerned for your ex-boyfriend.

He looked up at you, his eyes red and bleary from the drink. His body froze. Blue pupils dilated in a mixture of shock and happiness. It really was you. Had you come back for him after all this time? 

"What does it look like I’m doing?" he muttered, his voice bitter and angry.

Satoru detested alcohol; it always interfered with his abilities, and being the strongest meant being ready whenever – no questions asked.  After your departure, though, he grew fond of the bitter, burning feeling the liquid provided. That sweet poison was the sole substance capable of muffling the eternal pessimism plaguing his mind.

You approached him cautiously, taking the bottle from his hands and setting it aside. "Come on," you said firmly, "we need to get you home."

He wasted no time to speak what was really on his mind. Even if it was for a mere second, he had felt the sensation of your touch once more. That was more than he needed to vocalize the thoughts that tormented his sanity. Either that, or it was the alcohol he had consumed speaking. 

“Why won’t you love me back?” His words slurred, being far too drunk to care, though. 

“…You’re drunk, let’s get you home.”

“What home? The one I bought for us that YOU left me all alone in?” he deadpans, the silence following being as deafening as a scream.

Ouch. 

“My room feels so empty if you’re not there. I see your precious face and I don't know what to do.” His expression dampens with anguish before he continues – somewhat unclearly, ”whatever I do, I cam’t fubking get you out of my head amd it’s ruining me.” 

“I told you to move on a million times every time you drunk dialed me, Satoru.” 

“If that’s what you wanted, why did you continue to pick up the call?” He retaliates, eyes glazed with forbidden tears on the verge of cascading against his pale skin.

You knew perfectly well why. He knew perfectly well why. Everyone Satoru vented to about you knew why, so why continue to deny it? 

Attempting to keep your temper in check, you take a deep breath, eyes darting back and forth between the door and him. It was more than easy to run away from your problems, like you always did. But not this time.

You owed it to him to at least finally stick around long enough when things got tough. You wouldn’t put up an invisible wall between the two of you anymore, not today. 

You sigh, taking the empty seat right next to him. 

“We can’t go back to how things were. We broke up, remember?” 

“I know,” he grumbles, taking a sip of his beverage. He shook his head, his drunken state making it almost impossible to focus his thoughts or his vision. “But maybe drinking will make me forget that we ever did. Maybe tonight I can pretend we’re still together,” his voice and face etched with sorrow.

His voice trailed off, followed by another long sip of his drink. 

“You need to quit drinking yourself into a stupor, Satoru. This isn’t healthy,” you responded, voice softening out of concern. 

His eyes still clouded with alcohol, he looks at you before speaking. “I don’t know how to move on.” He admitted, voice barely audible. “I don’t know how to live without you. I loved you…and I still do.”

He silently weeps once and for all, crumbling before the love of his life. You didn’t know what else to say, so you settled on simply allowing his head to rest on your shoulder; you always were his favorite shoulder to cry on, after all. Wrapping an arm around him, you pet his head as you lull him. Instinctively, he envelops you into a warm embrace, face burying itself deeper into your chest. 

As he continued to sob like a baby, the sorcerer allowed his emotions to flow freely – months of bottling them up into liquor bottles had finally caught up to him. 

He was beyond ecstatic underneath all the melancholy; not only had you allowed him to get closer to you, but even went as far as hugging him too. He couldn't believe it. Just a few moments ago, you were talking about forcing him to move on, but now – you were actually back in his arms, where you belonged.

He felt relieved for a moment, almost to the point where he wasn't thinking properly anymore. You were finally back in his arms, where you needed to be; he refused to let go.

It felt like a fever dream, but this was all he needed. Even if you’re gone, morning come, he’ll live in this moment for the rest of eternity. 

[anto-pops]

I hope you’re feeling better Love, sending aged up, dad Seb your way to make ya feel better ❤️ still stand by this head canon

I’LL USE THIS POST TO DECLARE I’M OFFICIALLY COVID FREE AND GOING ABSOLUTELY FERAL OVER THESE PICTURES, THANK YOU SO SO MUCH QUEEN HE LOOKS INCREDIBLE !!! 💕🙏🏻

[luveline]

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

Spencer calls you drunk and in need of rescue. You confess a few secrets to him while he won’t remember them (or so you think). 3k, fem

cw drunk!spencer, mentioned past drug use, confident/bombshell!reader, flirting, spencer getting some well deserved comfort, a handful of his drunken compliments, insecurity, intense mutual pining

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re blissfully sleeping in the arms of a REM cycle when your phone rings. It pulls you by the chest, a punch of shock and expectancy at once. It’ll be someone calling you into work, Hotch himself if you’re lucky. 

You search blindly for your phone. If you’re even luckier, it’ll be a wrong number. Your fingers curl around the little body of your phone and you bring it to your ear without checking the number, frazzled. “Hello?” you ask hoarsely. 

Total quiet. 

“Hello?” You pull the screen away. The caller reads: SPENCER. You pull it back rather than hang up. “Hey, Spencer. Are you there?” 

“Hello.” He laughs. “Hello, are you there?” 

“I’m here, Spencer, where are you?” 

“That’s an interesting question, actually, and I’m sure there’s a great answer, but…” 

“But what?” You sit up quickly, your throat aching with sleep. Your room is black as coal pitch. “Spencer, what time is it, my love?” 

“You shouldn’t call me stuff like that.” 

“Stop being weird and tell me where you are.” 

He laughs like a hyena. You can see it in your mind, his smile and all his pearly perfect teeth. You love it when he smiles like that and he rarely ever does. “I’m somewhere and I need your help getting home!” he says with another funny laugh. 

“Are you alright? You sound…” He sounds inebriated. 

Spencer struggled with his drug problem for so long before you found out. You just hadn’t been around enough, and when you were he’d gotten good at hiding it. You can still remember how furious you’d been with everyone, including him, because you could’ve helped, would’ve done anything to support him through it. If he’s hurting now and hasn’t told you, you love him, but you’ll be insanely angry. 

“Spencer?” you ask quietly. 

“I went for drinks with a girl but she didn’t like me and I may have drowned my sorrows too much,” he admits. “Um. Did you know gin is very strong?” 

“Aw, baby. You’re cheating on me?” 

“I’m afraid so,” he says, and hiccups. 

“Where are you?” 

After some hassle wherein you persuade Spencer to give the phone to someone else in the bar for a slightly less drunk interrogation, you dress and gather your bearings for the drive. You zip a hoodie up over your pyjamas, stuff your feet into some old converse, and set out into the dark to find him. 

He calls you again as you’re parking. “Hello,” he says as soon as you answered. “I need you to come and get me.” 

Spencer called you twice to save him. Even if he doesn’t remember, he’s called you to come and get him when he knows he needs help, and that realisation is hard to ignore. “Spencer, I’m two minutes away, I’m parking. You’re still where you were?” 

“Where was I?” 

“At the bar, sweetheart. Are you still there?” It’s scarily dark out and you didn’t grab any sort of defensive measure before you came, which you regret now, climbing out of your car to walk the dimly lit road. The bar glows like a beacon to be followed. 

“Still where?” 

“Did you hit your head?” 

“Not to my knowledge. Though I’m not sure I have much right now. I feel like I’m forgetting everything I’ve ever read, and I’ve read a lot. You know I can read about eighty average length novels in one hour on an e-reader? The buttons make it faster.” 

“You haven’t told me that before.” You shiver against the nighttime winds, footsteps heavy on the grey sidewalk. 

“I’m trying to be more conversational. Emily says it’s not working.” 

“You’re conversational. Isn’t the only condition of being conversational to prompt a conversation? We’re always talking.” 

“…What?” 

You laugh like crazy. “Spencer, you don’t need to change the way you talk.” 

“I annoy people.” 

“You don’t annoy me.” 

You approach the door of the bar, a ramshackle sheet of plywood over what looks to be a glass door. The bar building seems in similar dessaray, with modern features wrecked by scratches and smashed panes. It’s a real dive. Spencer couldn’t have meant to come here. 

You war with both hands to open the door and find yourself faced with a long and empty corridor leading to another door. Worried you’re going to get kidnapped, you bring the phone back to your ear, Spencer’s chatting an immediate greeting. “…telling me I’m doing something wrong without telling me what it is, it’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, can you come to the door?” 

“I don’t think I have control of my legs,” he says without inflection. 

“It’s definitely the building with the smashed door?” 

“Yesssss. Are you here?” he asks excitedly. 

“I better not get murdered, Spencer Reid.” 

“Am I in trouble?” 

“How are you even keeping the phone to your ear right now?” 

“I’m on speaker phone. Milly showed me how to do it. Say hi, Milly.” 

“Hi Milly,” a new voice says. 

You rub your eyes with one hand and square your shoulders, prepared to defend yourself if the creepy door leads to a creepier room. 

Spencer is immediately visible from the get go. You open the door on to a rather cosy looking bar, which you’re thinking might be the whole point; wretched exterior, secret attraction. Warm orange light ebbs into the space from sconces and a faux fireplace, while a wrestling match playing from the small TV behind the bar casts brighter light down onto Spencer’s shoulders. He looks out of place, dressed in a white oxford shirt and a suit jacket, his tie loosened and hanging from either side of his neck, compared to the lingering patrons who sit dotted around the room in booths and on barstools. One such patron sits in a plaid shirt and a trucker hat, her hair to her back, thick and dark. 

You hang up the call and put your phone in your pocket. Spencer gasps like he’s been smacked and picks his own phone up from the bar, clicking at buttons with clumsy fingers. “No,” he hums sadly. 

“Spencer,” you say, not wanting to disturb the people spending their sorry-looking night here. “Spencer. Hey, Spence!” 

His phone tips between his fingers. The woman you assume to be Milly catches it and offers it back without looking too far from her beer. 

“Hey,” you say gently, crossing a wide empty space to meet him. The room itself is shaped like a horseshoe, the bar taking up a surprising amount in the centre, and booths and tables placed around it. Spencer’s off of his barstool as you approach, eyes like puppy dog’s, arms extended. “You okay?” you ask. 

You can feel eyes on you both from every angle, but it doesn’t matter, not when Spencer’s falling into your arms (or on to them —he’s surprisingly tall when you aren’t wearing heels). “You alright?” you ask again. 

“You don’t have to be worried, I’m fine.” 

He’s less coordinated in real life than he’d sounded over the phone, his slurring unmissable, his hands like jumping fish as he tries to hug you. It’s weird and straining to take his weight but you do it without complaint. He smells the same, at least, only his cedary cologne is sharpened by the tang of gin on his breath. 

“Thank god you’re here,” he whispers. 

“Why?” you ask, pulling away to check for danger. 

“I missed you.” 

“I missed you too, handsome,” you say, genuine but laying it on thick simultaneously as you ease his head back to cup his cheek. You can’t help yourself. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever met, and it gets worse every year. 

He frowns at you deeply. “I don’t like first dates.” 

“Then don’t go on them,” you suggest, “you don’t need to until you’re ready.” 

“I’m ready for love,” he says. You pull your lips into a flattened line, unsure of what to say, how to explain that it’s waiting for him, but his chin dips towards his neck and his eyes lock onto your face. “You’re not wearing makeup. God, you’re so pretty.” 

You flinch away from him. “Fuck, Spencer.”

“I’m sorry! It’s not that you don’t look pretty with makeup, but I never see you without it!” 

You’d forgotten you weren’t wearing any. Makeup isn’t a shield, exactly, but you like putting your best foot forward, so to speak. You’ve no clue what you look like tonight, hadn’t managed to look in the mirror, you’d been focused on getting to Spencer before he got lost. You can imagine the puffiness.

Spencer touches your cheek. You let him turn you mostly because he’s surprised you, his eyes roving up and down your face with a fawning curiosity. 

“You’re beautiful. You know that already, but people don’t tell you enough,” he says, his hand falling from your cheek. 

“Spencer,” you say softly, “let’s get you home.” 

You thank Milly for her help and grab Spencer’s bag from the floor to hang on your shoulder. You’d make a joke about how heavy it was if you didn’t think he’d take it from you, and, considering how drunk he is, topple over from the imbalance it provides. His shirt is clammy where you push your hand through his arm to link them, his footsteps wobbly. 

“I didn’t want to go on a date,” he says. 

“Then why did you go?” you ask, helping him over the door jam into the long hallway. 

“I don’t want to be alone forever.” 

“Spencer, you won’t be.” It doesn’t feel like the best time to bring up how much you like him. You’re sure he thinks you’re kidding, doesn’t everybody? Don’t torture him, they say. Don’t toy with him. Every time you flirt with him the team acts like you can’t mean it, and for a while it worked for you; you weren’t in love with Spencer. You weren’t playing with his feelings, but you didn’t love him, and then you joined the team and got to know him, watched him fluster at every comment you made or under any soft looking and realised you could love him. It was easy to fall for him. You liked doing it. But now he’s determined to write your affection off as a joke and going on dates? 

In the morning, when he’s sober, you’ll have to tell him how you feel. Or you could let him find someone more like him… ugh. It’s such a mess. 

You grapple with the size of your feelings for him as he hums and laughs his way down the hall to the glass door. On the street, he squints and straightens his back, fighting to regain his arm from your hold to cover your shoulder instead. “It’s cold,” he says in surprise. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine, I got my jacket. It’s a short walk, come on.”

His arm stops acting as protection and starts to use you for support. “I didn’t mean to drink so much.” 

“Drowning your sorrows is always a terrible idea because it tends to work,” you lament, less scared of the dark with him at your hip, though what protection he might offer is negated by the alcohol. 

“She kind of looked like you.” 

You squeeze your eyes together quickly. “Oh.” 

“I didn’t know she was going to. But she didn’t– she didn’t– it’s hard to talk. She didn’t listen like you do,” he says, lightly slurring, “she just stared at me like everyone used to in high school. Like she could tell there’s something wrong with me.” 

“Spencer, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I know,” he says. 

“Do you?” 

“Yes.” He frowns. “No, I don’t know. I don’t feel like there’s something wrong with me,” —his voice turns to a nearly indistinguishable mumble— “but everyone else always does.” 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.” 

“Is that why you make all your jokes?” 

“What jokes, babe?” 

“Like that! Like babe. It’s funny ‘cos you’d never date me.” 

You’d slow if he weren’t already walking at a snail's pace. “That’s not true. Let’s talk about it in the morning, okay?” 

“I won’t remember to ask you in the morning.” 

“Spencer, you remember everything.” 

He drags his feet. “I wish I wasn’t so weird,” he whines. It’s playful at the forefront but desperate otherwise, and it gives you pause. “I wish I was normal, and you could like me normal.” 

You look down at your hands, panicking, a flash of Is this a good idea? like an alarm in your head as you turn on the sidewalk to face him. He’s looking at you like he’s begging you to disagree with him. 

You’re happy to. 

“Spencer, I like you like this,” you insist loudly. His eyes and all his sweet lashes track the movement of your hand as you touch your chest, and your neck. “You’re not normal, I’m not normal. Do you know how many times I’ve been rejected? Just for being me? I’m too bossy, too outspoken, too– too high maintenance. I've had friends with good intentions tell me I need to lower my standards, need to relax, because otherwise I’m going to end up alone for the rest of my life. I feel alone all the time.”

“But you’re perfect,” he says, puzzled. 

“To you. And you’re perfect to me.” Your hand crawls to the base of your throat. “So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. You think I’d come and get anybody else in the middle of the night dressed like this?” you ask him, gesturing to your ratty pyjamas and your dingy converse. 

“You look so cute,” he says mournfully. 

You roll your eyes. He’s too wasted for this conversation. “Come on, sweetheart. You can think about this too much in the morning. Let’s just get home in one piece.” Physically and emotionally. 

“Can I come home with you?” he asks. 

That had always been the plan. “Ask me nicely and I’ll consider it on the way.” 

— — 

Spencer shuts his eyes, hands itching to clap over his ears as you scratch the head of a spatula across your frying pan. “Is three eggs too many? People usually have two but that’s never enough for me.” 

“I think…” Oh my god the metal screeching is so loud. “You should have as many as you want. You know your body. There’s this study on intuitive eating…” I'm too hungover for this. “Three eggs is better than two.” 

“So you want three?” 

He cannot eat right now. “Yes. Please.” 

Spencer’s half sick with dehydration and half grief. He stayed at your house last night and he was too drunk to be nosy. He slept in your bed. He slept in your bed. He woke up to you at your vanity doing your hair, the nutty smell of hair oil mixed with the heat of the hair tool on high and realised with a start that he’d missed something he thought about all the time. 

You’d tipped your head back to smile at him. “There’s my boy. Sweet dreams?” 

He didn’t dream, but if he had, it would’ve been another agonising wish where you were his girlfriend, or his wife, or just there looking at him with love. He wakes up feeling sick because it isn’t true. And now you’re making him breakfast, humming a tune under your breath, sourdough sizzling under the grill and a shoddily blended avocado sitting in the bowl in front of him. 

You asked him for one thing. He picks up the fork and starts to mash the avocado again. He can’t fight the foreignness of sitting in your kitchen, a gap in his memory. 

He knows he told you about his date, how she looked like you, how she didn’t seem to like him much, but he’s struggling to collect the finer details. Why had you picked him up? He must’ve called you, but you could’ve said no. He remembers thinking you looked beautiful, but he always thinks that. 

The avocado is making him feel sick. 

“Here,” you say, sliding a plate of toast in front of him. “Do you want butter?” 

“I think I'm gonna throw up.” 

“You’re okay.”

“I can’t believe how I acted,” he says, pressing his palms to the hollows of his eyes. 

You turn off the hob. Fat bubbles and pops until it’s cooled. The clock on the wall by the refrigerator ticks incessantly. His slept-in shirt feels too tight despite the undone button. 

“Hey…” You round the island but don’t touch him, your voice gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He drags his hands down his face. “I can barely remember what I said.” 

“You were really nice to me… told me I looked pretty without my makeup, n’ that I was perfect. You were really nice.” 

Your tone is off. No flirtatiousness, no endless confidence, you sound wistful, like you’re glad he said it. You take the bowl of avocado he’s made a mess with and put it aside with the toast, resting your arm on the counter, and leaning into his space. “Spencer, last night? You didn’t do anything to be embarrassed of. You were nice, and kind. You tried to open the car door for me and you almost lost your eye, but you were fine. You don’t have anything to be worried about, really.”

“But it’s you.” 

“Gonna touch your hair,” you say, giving him enough time to move away as you reach out and rake back his fringe. His heart leaps into his mouth. “You said something last night like that, you know? Do you remember that? You said if you were normal.” You grace the skin beside his eye with the tip of your thumb, your perfume floating his way as you move. “And I said–”

“I’m not normal,” he says, remembering now. 

You’re not normal, I’m not normal, you’d said.

But you’re perfect, he’d said. 

To you. And you’re perfect to me.

“Right. We’re not normal, Spencer Reid, so forget that girl. She didn’t deserve you anyways,” you say. 

You draw a short, silken line down his cheek with the side of your pinky. To be touched so lightly has his stomach in knots —he’s not shocked by the swiftness with which your affection can make a bad situation good again. 

You turn away. “Now we should eat before everything goes cold.” 

He watches your shoulders move, and he remembers one last detail. So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. 

The way you’d said it… you couldn’t really mean…

“How’s your appetite? Still feeling sick?” you ask. 

Spencer smiles to himself, the ghost of your touch glowing warm on his cheek. “I’m feeling a lot better, actually.” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!!! please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed, i appreciate anything and it always inspires me to write more<3!! my requests are pretty much always open for bombshell!reader (even though this one strays a bit from their usual story haha) so if you wanna see more let me know❤️

[povlnfour]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ BEACHED! (OP81)

pairing: oscar piastri x f!reader

summary: after oscar saves you from an embarrassing accident on the beach, you accidentally go viral

warnings: cheesy humour, chaos

ੈ✩‧₊˚ oscarpiastri just tweeted

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted a photo

liked by danielricciardo, logansargeant and 98,002 others

yoursername shout out to australia, especially to the random dude in orange who saved my life from prematurely ending (note: waves in australia are brutal stay away if you can't swim)

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yourbsf NO FR SHOUT OUT TO KING I WAS TOO BUSY LAUGJING AND TAKING PHOTOS

yoursername I NEARLY DIED Y/B/F

yourbsf i was too busy giggling! your dream boy and first time he's seeing you is nearly drowning

friend1 Y/N DO YOU KNOW WHO THAT IS (6)

yoursername an australian?

user IS THAT OSCAR???

user oscar in papaya even on the beach… i fear he has no other clothes

user WHAT IS GOING ON

user NOT ME SEEING OSCAR TODAY AFTER HE SAVED A RANDOM GIRL FROM DROWNING?!?!

yoursername who tf is oscar

oscarpiastri hi! random dude in orange here

yourusername UM.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ twitter reacts

ੈ✩‧₊˚ dms with oscar

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted stories

[captions:

1. treated the tour guide to lunch :)

2. note: don’t let an f1 driver drive the golf cart if you value your life. moments before i nearly died (again)]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted a photo

liked by oscarpiastri and 76,408 others

yourusername live evidence of the moment my tour guide turned on me

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user UHHHH

user oh so now they’re hanging out… i smell love at first sight

user NOT HIM DIVE BOMBING YOU????

oscarpiastri HEY i saved you again as well🙄

yourusername AFTER I SWALLOWED LIKE A GALLON OF WATER

friend1 @/yourbsf where were you during this murder attempt

yourbsf honey they don’t even know i’m here

ੈ✩‧₊˚ oscarpiastri just posted a photo

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 224,517 others

oscarpiastri best way to get used to the aussie waves is to just go for it☀️

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user okay when will an f1 driver save ME from drowning and fall in love (and then try to drown me on two other occasions)

user hahaha i think they’re just friends

user GIRL ^ look at what he just posted dedicated to her and tell me he’s not already obsessed

yourusername please stop trying to end my life i have a child at home

user UM

oscarpiastri a dog. she has a dog.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted a photo

liked by oscarpiastri and 103,228 others

yourusername australia i am in love with your food, your weather, and certainly your people. i can’t wait to come back one day🤍

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user ‘and certainly your people’ 🥹🥹🥹

user i knew she was only on holiday but why am i legitimately sad she’s leaving?

user why am i crying for people i don’t know

user is the shirtless man in the bg of the third oscar😳

oscarpiastri don’t be a stranger🧡

ੈ✩‧₊˚ texts with oscar (1&2) and your best friend

ੈ✩‧₊˚ your username just posted a photo

liked by 65,087 people

yourusername puppy therapy

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user no oscar in the likes again :(

user he’s so fluffy

user my heart aches so bad i want her back with oscar

user no fr i’m hoping that they can meet up when he’s travelling again :(

yourbsf coming over for a cuddle (with you and charlie pup)

ੈ✩‧₊˚ oscarpiastri just tweeted

replies…

user why do i feel like this is about y/n…

user i hope they still talk :(

user with the way they’ve been posting i don’t think they do :(

user sending you love oscar. you’ll smash next season🧡

user something definitely happened

user im guessing just summer romance that fizzled out now they’re both busy :(

ੈ✩‧₊˚ mclaren just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 200,091 others

mclaren pre-season testing underway✅

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user did anyone see the interview he did on f1’s page?

user no what happened?

user they asked him about his winter break, and his smile faded so fast :/ then he just said he did a bit of exploring and moved the conversation on so fast

user god they. really fell for each other huh

user mclaren you have an opportunity to do the best thing. invite y/n to one of your races and reunite them please

ੈ✩‧₊˚ an email from mclaren

ੈ✩‧₊˚ texts with your best friend

ੈ✩‧₊˚ mclaren just posted a photo

liked by 247,996 people

mclaren a special home race for oscar with even more special guests🇦🇺 #OP81

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user IS THAT… IS THAT CHARLIE PUP. IS THAT Y/N.

user DID MCLAREN TAKE OUR ADVICE

user IS IT FINALLY HAPPENING ARE MY LOVES REUNITING?

user IM HERE RN AND SHES DEFINITELY IN THE PADDOCK

user FOR REAL? HAS OSCAR SEEN HER?

user NOT YET BECAUSE HE’S BEEN IN PRACTICE SESSIONS BUT THEY FINISH SOON

ੈ✩‧₊˚ user just posted a thread

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted a photo

liked by oscarpiastri and 123,008 others

yourusername who said fairytales aren’t real

view all comments

user OH MY GOD ITS OFFICIAL

user i would like to thank mclaren

user why am i crying. i don’t know these people

oscarpiastri and in all 100 versions of the story, i’d always choose you

ੈ✩‧₊˚ oscarpiastri just posted a photo

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 247,721 others

oscarpiastri i guess i was the real race winner after all

view all comments

user THE CAPTION IM SOBBING

user can’t believe y/n went from nearly drowning to dating the internet’s boyfriend

yourusername can’t wait to have my life threatened by you for years to come

oscarpiastri okay nearly backing over you was an ACCIDENT

mclaren you’re welcome😉

landonorris when is it my turn

mclaren challenge accepted…

landonorris NO NO NO I TAKE IT BACK

————

a/n: HIHIHI i hope this lived up to expectations omg. the snippet for this went crazy but i don’t know if this is good EEK

huge thank you to EVERYONE for all the love in my inbox and comments recently, i’ve had so much fun writing these smaus so it’s been great to see everyone’s thoughts🤍

this will most likely be my last one shot posted before christmas with not funny (didn’t laugh) being my first post afterwards, so i want to say a huge merry christmas to all who celebrate!!

and finally. thank you for 800 followers!!! merci du fond du coeur. ça représente beaucoup pour moi🤍🤍🤍

- giselle / zellie / gigi / elle / gi i havE SO MANY NAMES

taglist (found here): @iluvvmeeee @champagnelovers101 @alessioayla @idkiwantchocolatee @skatingiswalkingincursive @six-call @he6rtshaker @hobiismyhopeu @tallrock35 @sunflower-golden-vol6 @woozarts @minkyungseokie @vellicora @tsukishitm-a @lucyysthings @treehouse-mouse @iloveyou3000morgan @gwginnyweasley @hetfieldd @sweetbabygirlsworld @wittywhispers

[azaarchiive]

fanfic bakugou vs real size

sypnosis; katsuki finds you reading a fanfic about him

notes; suggestive, gn reader, fluff with katsukiii, long term established relationship, bakugo is a little ooc. 733 words

inspired by: @officialabortive (i tried to find the drabble but i couldn’t find it! anyways go show them some loveee)

‘katsuki’s muscular arms trapped you in between him and the kitchen island, his hot breath caressing your neck before you felt him speak.

“do you know why i call myself dynamite?” he whispered seductively.

“why?” you meekly responded, slowly turning to face him.

he leans closer to your ears before whispering,

“because i blow my load in bitches like you.” ’

soon, a loud laugh could be heard behind you, ripping you from your very steamy fantasy. only for you to realise the man himself was behind you, laughing his ass off.

“suki, w-what the fuck?! you scared me!” you stumbled over your words, shame spreading across your whole body.

“i can’t fucking believe i walked in on my partner reading this shit! oh fuck, i’m getting abs!” katsuki continued to cackle while you covered your face in embarrassment. this was the worst way to get caught.

“i was just interested! i was online and i saw that this was apparently the dynamite fanfic that everyone was raging over!” you attempted to defend yourself, but your excuses fell onto deaf ears and the sound of his obnoxious laughter getting louder to drown you out.

“i just can’t believe this, baby, you have the real thing right here!” katsuki climbed onto the couch with you, leaning his arm on the top of the couch while resting his chin on his fist.

“i know that, like i said, i was just interested!” you huffed.

“that line was insane though, maybe ill steal it next time. would you be into that? me ‘blowing my load’ into you?” katsuki smiled, trying to hide your laughter.

but your shy smile as you looked away just broke any restraint he had, and thus, he was bursting out laughing again.

“oh my god, you liked it, didn’t you?” katsuki accused.

“no i didn’t!” you whined, playfully pushing katsuki who barely even moved an inch.

“yes you did, look at how flustered your getting!” katsuki pointed at your face.

“oh come off it!” you slapped his finger away, picking up your phone again and turning away to have him face your back.

“going off to read more?” katsuki teased.

you stayed silent, sighing playfully as katsuki (unbeknownst to you) widened his mouth in shock.

“listen… the writing is really good!” you defended yourself whilst laughing.

“it was probably written by a 14 year old girl!” he exclaimed back to you.

“no actually, the writer here just turned 20.” you huffed.

“im still in shock, you have the katsuki bakugou in front of you, wiling to do whatever you want, yet you chose him. the guy with cheesy lines!” katsuki complained.

“don’t be jealous katsuki, it’s just that the storylines are so captivating. like, in one of them, you were a barista and i was a ceo- can i please explain the storyline properly without you laughing?” you paused while smiling as katsuki wheezed in front of you.

after a few second, he nodded, covering his mouth to contain whatever laughter he had left in him so you could continue.

“thank you, anyways, i was a ceo and you were the coffee barista and we fell in love over time since i kept coming back because the coffee you made was always really good. but then, your jealous ex, which was me actually, came and told me that you both were still dating and that you were just using me for my money. so then, i fell out of love for you, but then, 2 years later, you had graduated from UA and became a pro hero and saved me, so then we fell in love again and got married.” you explained.

“wait, they include you in these little stories?” katsuki asked.

“yep, im usually the jealous ex or the supportive best friend.” you replied.

“these people are so pathetic, you’re mine and always will be.” katsuki said, lunging at you, trapping you in a bear hug.

you screamed in laughter as he trapped you in his lethal hugs, the scent of his cologne wafting in your nose.

“you’re right, i’m your forever!” you giggled in his arms.

“exactly, don’t need no fanfic to tell you otherwise.” his voice was muffled as his face was in his neck.

god, you loved this man and no other fanfic version of him could ever capture how he was with you.

[luvrxbunny]

churn

pairing: knight!Miguel O’Hara x princess!reader

summary: Your royal knight helps you in a way your fiancé never could.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader has hair that can be pushed over her shoulder, reader has visible collarbones, infidelity, miguel seems to have a little thing for readers collarbones.. Idk,  f! masturbation, IMPORTANT LINK (ill be refering to this throughout the fic)

wc: 4.9k

a/n: i don't even think this is good guys cry i just needed to post something but i tried ilya 🫶🏾 (not proofread one bit)

He hated this part of the day. 

Miguel isn’t allowed to feel many things, he is even more limited in who he can feel them for, but he hates this part of the day. When you finally finish your chores and duties. You always tell him that you’re not going to get excited this time, that you know he’s busy but he always sees the excitement build in your face as you search tirelessly for your fiancé. 

Ser Isaac was one of the more well-known lords of the land. He’s known for his outstanding looks and entertaining charm. Everyone has heard of his endless generosity, empathy, and care for others. But in Miguel’s experience. He’s a selfish dick. 

He doesn’t hate Ser Isaac, of course not, that’d be treason. He is allowed to hate his actions, however; the way he neglects you. He hates how Ser Isaac is using you for your position, stature, and admiration throughout the kingdom. He spends all his time sucking up to your father, thanking him for his daughter's hand in marriage rather than worshipping the daughter for tolerating his artificiality. 

You round the corner to find your father and fiancé at the bar, once again. This is where they’ve been for the past few weeks. You’d asked them to try to spend less time together, to make some room for you, but they both laughed you off and continued their boisterous chatter. 

Miguel watches your smile melt off your face as you take in their inebriated state. You turn to him for a moment with a small smile, knowing he’ll give you the same pitying look you get every time this happens. It’s a small comfort; knowing that at least one person in your life cares about you, even if that person is your assigned guard.

You approach the pair of drunks with a brave smile. “Have you saved any for me, my love?” The two men pause to look at you before slowly turning back to one another and breaking out into a fit of laughter. Miguel can see your expression flush into one of embarrassment and anger. You open your mouth to speak again but their laughter raises in volume, drowning out anything you would’ve said. 

Miguel sees a heartbreaking sadness flash over your face before you compose yourself. 

In his mind though, it’s the same as you begging him for help, so he steps in. He moves from his corner by the doorway to stand at your side. His presence gives you a small boost of confidence and commands the men to give you more than 3% of their attention. 

Your fiancé is the first one to quit his laughter and sober up a bit. He takes a deep breath and rolls his eyes at Miguel’s presence. “Is he necessary?” He doesn’t even look at Miguel, his eyes don’t flicker in his direction once. Miguel does the same, keeping his eyes forward and surveying his surroundings. He can’t help the slight smirk that worms its way onto his face, however. 

You stand up straighter at the acknowledgment of your muscle. “Miguel is mine, therefore he stays by my side.” Miguel’s eyelids flutter and flicker to you for a moment. He tries his best to ignore the swirling in his stomach but his breathing stutters. “I’d like to confer with you about your schedule, dear.”

Your fiancé smirks maliciously at you before changing it into a faux kind smile. “Of course, sweetheart. I’ll make so much time for you.” He stands up, looming over you but not taller than Miguel. “When I’m finished organizing all of our affairs, paying all your maids.” His voice gains more and more venom as he stalks closer to you. 

Your confident gaze is gone, now looking at the wall rather than your soon-to-be husband. “Yes, dear. I’ll spend time with you when I’m done with cleaning your messes.” His voice raises to a shout, screaming right in your face as your eyes stay on the ground. Miguel’s hand goes to rest on the hilt of his sword, just as a reminder of what could happen if Ser Isaac decides to do more than yell. But that negatively catches his attention. 

He scoffs loudly and turns to Miguel, who still isn't meeting his threatening eyes. “You think to strike me? You?” Miguel hears you take a breath, like you’re preparing to speak up for him but he can’t allow that. “I only mean to protect the Princess, Ser.” Miguel keeps his smirk from crawling onto his face this time, he keeps his expression stoic and straight ahead. 

“Oh? OH? I’ll I have you know that I shall do whatever-” He raises his hand. “I’d like-” 

It comes down toward you “with MY wife.” Miguel grabs his wrist, stopping all movement. You watch his grip tighten before your eyes, so tightly you swear you can hear Isaac’s bones cracking. 

“You will not. Not in my presence, or ever, if I can help it.” You’ll never forget the look on his face. The pure shock on his face, the look of disgust and disdain. You don’t even want to think of Miguel’s face. The anger, and unwavering confidence. He exudes this certain dominance over Isaac that you can’t help but admire.

Isaac’s face shows a look of embarrassment once he sees how easily Miguel can hold him back, so he scoffs and goes back to his seat, grumbling about your ‘big oaf of a guard.’ He complains about the both of you to your father as if you aren’t even in the room. You’re not too sad about it, you’ve grown a bit used to his rejection, and it doesn't sting as bad. 

A clock in the corner of the room catches your eye and excitement runs through you with a soft gasp. Miguel looks over to you and follows your gaze to see the time, 3:00 PM. The swirling in his stomach returns as you clear your throat and begin to leave the room. Although you know Mguel will follow, you keep pace with him once you both exit the room, choosing to walk by his side. 

You’re always different for the next two hours. You linger by him more, find more excuses to touch him and talk with him. He knows why, he knows how princesses like to play their games, how they love all their suitors. But sometimes he slips up, sometimes he believes your advances are genuine, that you honestly wish for him to whisk you away from your castle life, your perfect, royal life. Then he comes back to reality. 

You enter your chambers and stand by the foot of your bed, Miguel by the door. His heart is racing because he knows what comes next. It’s- unfortunately, his favorite time of the day. You stand by your wardrobe, just looking into the mirror before catching his gaze in the reflection. “Mig?” Your soft tone sends a suppressed shiver through his body. “Do you think you could help me?”

He’s walking towards you without hesitation. “I- I’d ask one of the maids but they’re all busy and-” He doesn’t need a justification, you don’t need an excuse. “Of course, Princess. I understand.” You do this every time. Your maids are always ‘too busy’. You both know it's a ruse, but neither of you wants it to stop. 

He lets his hands rest on your side for a moment, relishing the way he can feel you expand with the deep breath you take. He slides them back to where you’re laced into your dress and takes his time untying the strings. You wish you could see his hands, the way they’d thread through the strings, how careful and gentle they’d be. Or how small the strings would look between his thick fingers. 

Once he finishes loosening your corset he opens it for you, reliving the extreme pressure it puts on you and you thank him with a soft sigh. He’s in a trance though, he slowly removes the fabric from your body. Your spine seems to compress itself, making you seem even shorter than usual now that you don’t have this brace forcing you upright. You’re just watching him in the mirror as his hands come up to your shoulders and slowly turn you around. He’s not looking you in the eyes yet, he’s just looking at you. He looks at your collarbones and slowly pushes your hair over your shoulder to reveal more of you to him. But something snaps him out of his trance and he puts distance between the two of you before you even take a breath. “S- I’m so sorry, Princess.I—” You cut him off before he can say more. 

“There's no need for an apology! I didn’t say anything, did I?” There’s a shy flirtiness in your tone that causes Miguel’s face to sink into a dark red color, bringing a giggle to your lips that only worsens his condition. He turns and walks back to the door while you finish undressing. 

He keeps his eyes dutifully out the window. Pretending he can't hear the fabric sliding against your naked skin. How he yearns to look, it's like you have your own gravitational pull. It’s a constant struggle to hear you undressing and redressing yourself into something he knows is going to screw with him. You’ll probably change into your favorite nightgown. It’s an adorable sleeved gown with feathers at the top. You always mention you don’t like how long it is, and that it’s “unflattering” but in truth, everything you wear is flattering. You make it so. 

Miguel suddenly becomes aware of the silence in the room. No rustling, no sliding fabrics. He risks looking over at you and his heart almost beats out of his chest. It’s new. You must’ve gotten it tailored because he’s never seen anything fit you so well. It’s a night dress, flowy but short, very short. It barely reaches the halfway point of your thigh. It has no sleeves, your neck, collarbones, and shoulders on full display, and the top hugs your breasts in a way he’s never witnessed. 

You watch him admire you for a moment before speaking up with a soft “Hmm?” and his eyes fly to yours. “I think it’s quite cute!” You smile at him brightly, waiting for his opinion. He doesn’t give you one though, he just stares at you for a little longer. You grow conscious under his stare and anxiety begins to eat away at you. “W- What do you th—” 

His face twitches before he blurts out. “Yes. Yes, you look-- It’s very- You look very cute. It’s beautiful. You- You look amazing, Princess.” His sentence ends with a sharp inhale that's followed by a calm exhale as Migusl straightens out. He’s been slowly leaning down, subconsciously trying to get closer to you. “You look incredible, Princess.” He tries to place his eyes forward again, trying to turn the environment back to professional, he can’t help but look at you one last time as you thank him. 

Your eyes are on the ground and your hand sliding up your arm, uncomfortable with all the skin you’re showing. “You do.” Your eyes snap up to his upon his third confirmation. You seem to be searching his eyes for something, looking deep into him in a way he’ll never get used to. 

Your brows furrow and you chew on your lip for a few seconds before declaring that he follow you and starting a rapid pace. He follows behind you urgently before realizing where the two of you are headed.

The castle has a lot of tunnels and hidden passageways, these passageways sometimes lead to other rooms in the castle or secret rooms in the castle. One of your handmaidens was kind enough to show you a passageway right by your washroom that leads to a secret chamber. You’d instantly fallen in love with what you found. 

Miguel was there the first time you saw it, you laughed so loud it echoed off the walls. You thought it was a novelty. He was there when he saw it pique your interest for the first time. It had been late at night, and Miguel hadn’t retired to his quarters yet so he was guardian of your door. Inside your room, he could hear you giggling with a drunk Ser Isaac. Your giggle soon turned to breathy whines but they were interrupted with a dull ‘thump’ before a very disappointed sigh from you. It was a matter of seconds before you opened your chamber doors and told him to follow you with about the same amount of urgency that you just did. 

You told him to guard the door and quickly shut it before you could see any opinion on his face. He was almost hyperventilating at his post. First of all, he was uncomfortable being out here, staring at your drunk, passed-out, fiancé, while you’re in that room doing god knows what. The other thing that bothered him was how he could not stop thinking about how he’d be so much better for you than that machine. 

You opened the door again far too quickly with an even more frustrated expression on your face. “I cannot figure it out. It- It doesn’t work.” Your words come out as an exasperated whine that tugs at his heartstrings. “Show me.” 

You chew on your lip for a second before opening the door to let him in and shutting it behind the two of you. There’s a single, yellow light overhead, shining down on where you would be sitting, where the heavy, metal rod protrudes from the seat. “This thing? It will not move, no matter how hard I try!” He examines the churning lever, immediately spots the problem, and starts removing his gloves. 

“It’s rusted over, Princess. I can fix it.” You watch as his thick fingers curl around the lever and his biceps tense as he pushes, trying to break it free of the rust. There’s an awful screeching sound and Miguel grunts roughly as the lever begins to move. You try to hide your smile of excitement as Miguel rotates the handle a few more times before letting go. “There.” 

You rush over to test for yourself and make sure you can operate it on your own. You smile and turn to Miguel after moving it around with ease. He smirks back at you while he brushes his hands together to remove the rust, and something about the whole scene does something to you. His hands are dirty, his knuckles hairy, his hands huge and thick as he stares at you with something you haven't seen before. You still have one more problem. 

“It also…” You trail off before clearing your throat and starting again. “It doesn’t seem to fit.”

Miguel has to shut his eyes for a moment as arousal floods his veins. He takes a deep breath before looking up at you with the softest expression he could muster, hoping it would hide his lust. “You need to start with your fingers, Princess.”

Your eyes widen at his answer and you quickly nod despite him being able to see the confusion written all over your face. He smiles fondly before explaining further. “That.” He gestures to the machine. “Is too big for most girls.” He looks you directly in your eyes as he speaks, slowly bending to your height. “So you have to start with your fingers.” Your eyes dart to his dirty hands for a moment. “You put them inside you, however many you can take.” 

You start blinking rapidly like your innocent little brain is having trouble processing what he’s telling you. All you respond with is, “Oh.” Miguel chuckles quietly before standing upright and putting his gloves back on. “Yes. I hope that helps.” You walk up to the door with him, to open it for him or accompany him out but you both pause when you hear a bit of commotion on the other side of the door. 

You watch him as he identifies the noise, and breathe out a soft sigh of relief when you see his tense expression relax. “They’re cleaning up Ser Isaac.” He states with a certain disdain that makes you smile softly. You stare at him.

“Okay, then you stay here.” You walk over to the seat and churn the lever a few times to ensure you could do it yourself before sitting on the edge, not quite on the metal penis but close. Miguel is watching from the corner with wide eyes, unable to rationalize what’s going on. You simply tell him “Don’t look.” And he whips his head back around. 

He stares at the dark wall, unknowing what he’s waiting for until he hears it. A soft sigh leaves your lips. He waits. He receives more. You grow in volume as you become wetter, he can hear it, the little squelching sounds getting louder, and faster as you get more desperate. Miguel is using all his willpower to not turn around and take in what he has no doubt is a beautiful sight. 

He hears your whines muffle as you bite your lip and he wishes you could tell you not to, that he wants to hear them all and more. He heard you let out a ragged breath as you added another finger and he couldn’t help his desire to do it for you, but he happily settled with only hearing your beautiful sounds and movements. 

He thanks the Gods every day for letting him stay in that room, for giving him the saccharine memories of you pleasuring yourself for the first time. 

This time feels different though. You’re all dressed up and giving him that look. The one that swirls fantasies into his head and makes his hands clam up. 

He follows you to the room and assumes his position in the corner, but never hears the metallic clink of you situating yourself in the seat. He waits and waits but hears nothing, no movement from you. So he turns around. He has to see what you’re doing, even if it's only for a second, just to make sure you’re safe. 

He finds you standing directly behind him, staring right at him so you guys make eye contact the moment he looks over his shoulder. He instantly turns back around, embarrassed that you found him looking, and worried you might get the wrong idea.

Miguel tries to explain himself, stumbling and stuttering over the start of his sentence before you cut him off. “How come you never look?”

The question silences him. 

“Do you have no desire to?” He turns around again. You seem genuine in your questioning, he feels like he detects a bit of hurt in your voice as well, but that’s most likely in his head. 

“You know I cannot desire.” He states softly. He, as a knight, cannot desire any woman, and most definitely not a princess. Yet he sees anger flash through your eyes at his statement. 

“Just because someone tells you you’re not allowed, does not mean you can’t.” Miguel stays silent, not knowing what you want him to say in response. He can see you scanning his face, examining his features to try and find any crack in his exterior. You must find whatever you’re looking for because you suddenly nod and take a step back. 

“Who are you more loyal to, your oath, or me?” The question baffles him. “If I, your princess, were to tell you to disobey your oath… Would you?” 

His eyes widen and you can see the gears turning in his head, trying to understand where his loyalties should lie. His mouth opens and closes with unsaid words and you decide to give him a break. 

“Come here.” You demand, pointing next to the machine, by the churning lever. You take a deep breath, seat yourself by the metal phallus, and slip a finger under your gown before you can give it a second thought. 

You slide your fingers over your panties for a moment, teasing yourself. Through a lot of trial and error, you’ve found that this is your favorite part; exploring your body, what makes you feel good, and feeling yourself soak your panties throughout the process. 

You hear Miguel take a sharp breath of air, reminding you of his presence and sending a jolt to your core. You’ve never been like this in front of someone, aside from what Miguel could hear and the few times your fiancé was sober enough to attempt to get you off. But even then, it didn't feel like it does now. 

You can’t help but imagine what it would be like if Miguel was the one touching you. If it were his thick fingers sliding under the satin fabric of your underwear to finally slide into you. There’s a burning stretch due to you using two fingers instead of one but it only furthers your fantasies of Miguel’s large hands. You peek your eyes open for a moment, your gaze still on the ground but you can see his feet, a small (or rather large) reminder that he’s right there. 

You can’t help the whimper that slips out, louder than usual. You’re more desperate. You can’t think of any other reason aside from him. You’re soaking your fingers in a way you haven’t since your first time and it’s driving you wild. “Miguel” His name comes out with a small whine, pitching your voice up and scrambling his brain. 

He has to take a deep breath before answering you out of fear that his voice will shake. “Princess?” His voice is rough and gravelly. He hears you take a sharp breath at the sound of it before clearing your throat in hopes of composing yourself. 

“You will churn the lever for me today.” His heart stops. “Understood, Ser?” His eyelids flutter as his eyes burn holes in the wall he’s facing. He goes over your sentence in his head, assuming he must’ve misheard you. His brows furrow and twitch along with his face before accepting that he heard you correctly. “Un-” He takes a shaking breath. “Understood, Princess.”

His hand comes up to wrap around the lever without him even looking in your direction. 

You stare up at him as you pull your panties aside and slide down the cold metal, your teeth digging into your lip to try and keep any noises inside. You only let out a satisfied sigh once you’ve sunk to the bottom before pushing yourself to the tip again. 

You can’t help but focus on him. He’s right there. You can see the curve of his nose and the plush of his lips, the way they purse before his tongue comes out to wet them and pull one into his mouth to bite. He doesn’t have his helmet on so you can see his rich brown curls, the way they frame his face and dance over his neck. You can see his thick, bushy brows, and behind his beautiful lashes are his warm, chocolate-brown eyes looking down at you. 

You gasp once your eyes meet and Miguel goes red. He just wanted to see you for a moment. You’re right there, practically whining in his ear as you impale yourself on what should be his cock. 

He can’t take it anymore, he can’t hold his feelings back as he feels a ripple flow through him and blood rush to his dick. His head decides to conjure every arousing, heart-warming, lovable memory he has of you. He hears you whine again at the loss of eye contact, even if it was only for a moment. Another ripple flows through him, settling in his lower stomach, and creating a painful pressure as your whimpers grow. He tries to redirect his thoughts and focus ahead as he keeps churning for you, cranking the lever again, and again. Your moans pick up as he regains his steady pace.

He tries not to imagine that it’s him. He tries not to think about the fact that your moaning aligns with the throbbing of his cock. He definitely doesn't think about the way his dick is pressing into the metal plate covering his cock. He doesn’t note the way his free hand twitches behind his back, wishing to provide any sense of relief to himself. He doesn’t get distracted by the thought of him touching himself with you sitting right there. 

You feel your orgasm building before Miguel starts to slow down again, his timing uneven again and you look up at him in confusion. He’s staring at the wall, his chest heaving and that same expression on his face. You don’t care to decipher what it means in your impatience. Miguel just feels your delicate hand on his, pushing his hand, forcing him to churn the lever.

You moan as your seat becomes functional. Your chin collides with your chest as you release all the moans and whimpers you’ve been trying to quiet. It almost feels like he’s been toying with you, with all his starting and stopping. You’ve been pushed to the edge of your sanity. 

You can’t comprehend how embarrassing this might be for you, a princess burying this rod inside you again and again, wishing it was someone other than who you’re set to marry. 

You shake the thought of Isaac from your head and replace it with Miguel. Just thinking about the life you could have with him has you tensing over the metal. Your fingers lace with his before you can even think about what you’re doing.

Miguel’s gaze is now on the ceiling, his eyes already slipping shut as your nails dig into his hand. His dick is leaking behind his crotch plate now, begging for your attention, a feeling he isn’t used to regulating. He feels himself pulse painfully and his free hand twitches again. 

Just for a moment. He thinks. Just one second. 

His hand comes from behind his back to crush itself against his crotch, trying to relieve any pressure before he loses his mind, but you hear the clink of the metal hitting and open your eyes instantly. You spot his hand over his dick before slowly looking up to meet his eyes. Miguel lets a moan slip out as he massages himself more thoroughly, squeezing more precum from his tip before pulling away and forcing himself to break your stare. 

“Please.” Is all he hears from you. It’s weak, pathetic, and punches him in the gut, taking all the breath from his lungs. His eyes wander back to you before he can think better of it and he’s instantly stuck, locked into your eyes. 

He watches your body catch alight. You tremble over the steel cock, holding eye contact with Miguel and pushing his hand, forcing him to churn, fuck you over and over as you cum. He can’t do anything but watch. He doesn’t even think about touching himself, not wanting anything to take his attention away from this moment. 

He watches you come down, your body melting into a puddle before him. You drape yourself over the front of the machine as you huff. Even out of breath and covered in sweat, your hair a mess and your dress surely mussed, he thinks you look like an angel, and it breaks his heart that he’ll never be able to keep you. 

He takes a deep breath before releasing the lever, relishing in the whine that leaves your throat as the rod slides out of you one final time. Despite better thinking, Miguel pats your head fondly, almost petting you before speaking as softly as he can. “Come on, Princess. Let’s get you to bed.”

You only hum and bury yourself in his neck as he lifts you from your seat. He takes his time getting back to your room, letting you rest in his arms for as long as he can allow. 

He lays you on your bed gently, propping your head up on the pillow and even going to cover you before you stop him. “Mmm Mig..” You begin sitting up again and stretch before opening your eyes to look at him.

Your eyebrows twitch, furrowing for a moment before he sees recognition in your eyes, quickly accompanied by mischief. “Sit down.” Your voice slurs adorably with your fatigue. He doesn’t get to hear this often. Normally, he’d do anything to stay with you, talk with you just a little more. 

But Miguel is still harder than steel in his suit, so pairing that with the hard metal of his armor, and sitting down? It sounds like the most painful thing he could do right now. “Princess… You should get some res-”

“ Sit down, Miguel.” He stares at you, debating his options again in the face of your stubbornness. You, however, take this as more defiance. “Please?” You beg him. 

You should know you never have to beg him for anything. 

He’s seated before your mouth even shuts. Your mouth is shaped into a smirk before he can take a breath, and you’re in his lap before he can blink. 

“Wha-?” Is all he can breathe out before your mouth is on his. His hands find your hips on instinct, grabbing all that he can and pulling it against him. You pull away. “Thank you.” And dive for him again. 

He places one hand behind your head to ensure you don’t do it again. 

thank you so much for reading!! please please please give any feedback you may have! I want it all! also if you liked it please take a look at my masterlist or send me some motivation here!!

[holylulusworld]

Alone again - Naturally

Summary: Even around your so-called friend you are alone.

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, loner reader, introvert reader, flirty Clark, low self-esteem, almost accident, fluff, Lois bashing

Alone again. Naturally.

You should’ve known better than to go out with your so-called friend.

A few years back Lois Lane was your best friend. Now you are only an excuse for her to go to a bar or attend a party without one of her flings.

She always was the one drawing all the attention toward her person. In high school, during your freshman year and after you landed your first job at a cat magazine.

Lois Lane. The rising star.

You have always been in her shadow, and this will never change. If you are shy, meek, and introverted, people easily overlook you.

Just like tonight. Lois is once again the center of the party. She chuckles loudly and bathes in the attention she gets from the men in the room.

You sigh deeply, wishing you didn’t follow her invitation to the party her employer throws only for her.

Her latest article got all the attention, while your job led to nothing but articles about birthdays, other people’s weddings, and missing cats.

Your career is just like your love life – non-existent.

Her laughter fills the room, and when she looks your way you hope Lois will save you from drowning in self-pity. Sadly, she turns her back on you to talk to someone else than you.

She always does this. Sometimes you believe she’s the cruelest person on the planet. Maybe she only keeps you around to show you how much better her life is.

“I’ve never seen you around here,” crap, someone found you standing in the corner. Now you have to engage in small talk. You wring your hands and force a smile on your face. “Hi, I’m Clark Kent.”

“Hi,” you glance at his offered hand and murmur your name. “I’m not working here.”

“I got that,” he flashes you a stunning smile. “I assume one of the gentlemen brought his charming girlfriend with him. A shame he left you here.”

“Oh, no,” you shake your head. “Lois invited me and she’s…” You bite your tongue. This man is a stranger, and you don’t want him to believe you are the kind of person talking behind your friend’s back. “She’s busy and I’m not much of a partygoer.”

“Honestly, I came here to hide in the shadows. I’m not much of a partygoer myself,” he grins and finally drops his hand. “So, what do you do for a living.”

“I’m a…” You are embarrassed to admit that you are working for an unimportant online magazine that barely anyone reads. “I write articles.”

“Oh, I’d like to read some. Where can I read them?” He gives you a soft smile. “Anything I should read first?”

“I write about missing cats and such,” you drop your eyes to avert his gaze. “Nothing important like you and Lois. I guess no one even reads the things I write.”

“I’d still like to read your articles.”

“It’s fine, really,” you sniff, and wring your hands again. “I know that the things I write about are boring. No one wants to know about Miss Fluffy ending up stuck in the neighbor’s car. You don’t want to read the things I wrote about.”

“Never underestimate your talent,” Clark tries to cheer you up, but you don’t believe a single word leaving his lips. “I’m sure you are a very good author.”

“No. I’m not.” Your fake smile drops. “I know my place, Mr. Kent.” You get defensive and step back. “You should go back to the party and talk to more interesting people.”

“What about?” He asks as you try to find a way to sneak out of the room without drawing any attention toward you. “Why don’t you come with me and talk to some of the people in the room?”

“I told you, I’m not much of a partygoer, or good at making small talk,” you wince at your words. You sound like the pathetic loser you are in your opinion. “Uh-I should go now.”

“What about Lois?” Clark takes a step toward you. “Don’t you want to say goodbye to her at least?”

You glance at Lois and quickly avert her gaze. She’s not in the mood to hold your hand or talk to you. “I think she’s good without me.” Your voice cracks. “I don’t even know why she invited me.”

“Wait—” Clark tries to stop you, but you hurriedly make your way toward the exit. “Y/N, don’t just go.”

You are out of breath when you finally leave the building. Feeling like a fool for coming here to watch Lois celebrate another milestone in her career.

Before you can go back and apologize to her for leaving without saying goodbye, you hurriedly cross the street.

One moment you want to reach the other side, and the next a car speeds toward you. You gasp, and close your eyes, waiting for the impact.

You don’t feel the car hit you, and you don’t end up dead on the street. You’re suddenly high up in the air, clutching Superman’s suit.

“You should be more careful.”

“I-“ you look up at the superhero you heard so much about. Rumors said that he was dating Lois Lane not so long ago too. At least you read an article telling you so. “Clark?” You furrow your brows as the same soft eyes you saw not moments ago look back at you. “How…?”

“What? I—” He seems to be confused. You’re the first person to uncover his secret. “Y/N, you can’t just run over the street. That’s dangerous.”

“Okay,” you hastily say. I mean, you are floating above a building, your life in a stranger’s hands, and you won't argue with him. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“You can worry me any time,” he wraps one arm around you to bring you closer to his chest. “How about I bring you home?”

“Does…uh…Lois know about your secret identity?” You can’t stop yourself from babbling.

“No,” he whispers lowly. “I guess she wouldn’t have left Clark Kent if she knew I got a secret,” Clark smirks when you look at him with wide, fearful eyes.

“You won’t drop me, right? I swear I won’t tell anyone about your secret.” You claw at him. “No one would listen to me anyway.”

“Do you honestly believe I’d drop you?” He quirks a brow.

“No…I mean…you’re a hero…right?” You pout. “I didn’t want to find out. It’s just…your eyes give you away.”

“I should wear sunglasses from now on,” he laughs while floating toward the next building to land on the rooftop. “If you promise to not tell anyone about my secret, I believe you. And I won’t drop you, sweetness.”

“Hmm…” You nod thoughtfully. “Did you date Lois as Superman too?”

He laughs now. “No. She didn’t know we were the same person. Lois broke up with me for Superman and the stories she wanted to write about him.”

“Oh, that’s awful,” you pat his chest, admiring its firmness. “I’m sorry this happened to you. Sometimes she’s just…” You trail off while patting his chest. “You know…”

“Let me bring you home,” Clark stops you from defending your friend. “Please.”

“Can we…uh…walk?”

“I’m already in my suit and got no clothes to change back into Clark,” he lies. Clark could easily change back into his alter ego, but he’d love to fly you home.

“Does this mean you want to fly?” You suck in a breath. “Do you have a seat belt or something?”

“I’ll bring you home safely, Y/N.” You end up back in his arms. This time you sling your arms around him and hold tight onto Clark for dear life. You close your eyes and hide your face in his chest.

You squeak when he pushes off the building. “Now that you know about my secret, do you want to fly with me again someday?”

“Uh-“ you blink your eyes open but still claw at him. “If you bring me home safely, we can do this again.”

“It’s a date then,” he smiles and flies into the night, making a detour to hold you a little longer…

Tags in reblog.

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Chapter Three: No Mirror for Monsters

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 4.3k

Chapter Warnings: Mature, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, confusion, and self doubt. Joel goes on a date but not with you. Two idiots falling and pining for each other. Lotta swearing, because, yeah, I like it. Reader has long enough hair for a ponytail and likes comfy clothes. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used by her dad.

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Thank you for reading this little tale! I did not expect all the love - my heart is fit to burst over all the wonderful comments and reblogs!

Chapter Two | Main Masterlist

“Good morning, Millers!” you greeted as you let yourself into their house the following morning. Nearing late October, it was a beautiful day outside and the crisp morning air made you happy. It would heat up later, but for now you were enjoying the comfort of a beloved hoodie and yoga pants.

“Hi darlin’,” Joel replied with a lot less enthusiasm as he leaned against the kitchen doorframe. Still nursing his first cup of coffee, his sparkling personality hadn’t kicked in yet. “Sarah’s just gettin’ dressed. Want some coffee?”

“Nah, don’t drink the stuff. Smells good, but the taste is just…” You scrunched up your nose, at a loss for the right word to describe how utterly disgusting you found the taste of coffee. You moved through the house to join him in the kitchen.

Turning back to the counter with a chuckle, Joel poured himself another cup and shrugged. “There’s no accounting for taste, I guess. More for me, then.”

“There’s the silver lining!” you teased. “So, you guys have any big plans this weekend?”

“Nah, should be qui—Oh shit, I almost forgot!” Joel closed his eyes, bumping a fist against his forehead. His gaze was shuttered when it met yours again. “Would you mind watching Sarah on Saturday evening?”

“Yeah, sure. I don’t have any plans, so I’m happy to hang with the nugget. You got a hot date or something?” You meant it as a joke, but the way Joel winced clued you in. Your face fell at his next words, and you hoped he didn’t notice.

“Uh, yeah. Tommy set it up.” Joel drained the rest of his cup, tossing it into the sink, and ran an anxious hand through his curls. “First one in a while, ya know.”

No, you didn’t know. But it wasn’t really your business, was it? Sarah’s arrival in the kitchen saved you from having to say anything else as the little girl launched herself at you.

“Hey nugget,” you said, wrapping your arms around her little body as she clung to your waist. Despite your best efforts, your greeting lacked your prior enthusiasm. You could feel the heavy weight of Joel’s gaze on you like a laser, but you refused to look in his direction. “You ready to go?”

“Uh huh, I already ate breakfast,” Sarah said proudly, spinning to hug her father. “Bye Dad, love you.”

You turned away, already heading for the door as Joel pulled her in for a bear hug, feeling your heart constrict at how much they loved each other. You didn’t bother to say goodbye.

Joel had a date.

A date who wasn’t you.

Man, that fucking sucked.

Could you blame the guy, though? He was still young and handsome, hardworking and responsible to a fault. And, most of all, he didn’t know that you harbored growing feelings for him. Nor could he ever find out, you reminded yourself, not when your dad was his best friend.

The ride to drop Sarah off was full of silence, your mind weighed down with thoughts of Joel and the valiant effort of trying to convince yourself to stop thinking about him. Coming out of the fog as you moved up in the school drop-off line, you wished Sarah a good day and watched as she bounced up the steps into the building. You envied that sweet obliviousness of youth.

Driving away from the school, anxiety started to kick in. The thought of going back to your house to sit alone as the four walls closed in on you made your stomach churn. You drove around for an hour, no real destination in mind, and ended up at Peace District Park. With nothing much else to do, you walked the trails of the urban oasis and let nature work its magic in calming your nerves.

It worked.

As you sat on a bench watching songbirds flutter around the flora, you texted one of your best friends from high school who still lived in the area. You needed a girl’s night out.

Distractions were dangerous in his line of work, but Joel struggled to get his mind to focus all morning. He fixated on the way your face fell and your entire demeanor changed when he mentioned the date, like you were disappointed, hurt even. But that couldn’t be, could it?

There was no way you felt something for him. Was there?

Joel went over and over every interaction between you two since the day you met, trying to see if he was reading into things too much. He wasn’t the most observant guy, he knew that well enough, but there were moments when he’d catch you gazing at him with this look of wonder in your eyes… that had to mean something. Right?

Fuck. He was really bad at this stuff. So out of practice and lacking confidence.

Maybe he just imagined it all. Maybe you had something else on your mind and didn’t give a shit about someone like him going on a date.

What could he do about it if you liked him anyway? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. So, what did it matter. You were JB’s daughter and Sarah’s babysitter, nothing more and nothing less.

Joel’s mind continued to cycle through the same thoughts all day, until he smashed his thumb with a hammer because he was so distracted. Pissed off and in pain, he called it a day a couple hours early, leaving Tommy in charge of the site. He needed to get home and put some ice on his thumb.

By some cosmic coincidence, he arrived home at the same time as you and Sarah. He couldn’t hide his thumb from your eagle eyes as the three of you entered the house.

“Jesus Christ, Joel!” you hissed, trying not to swear in front of Sarah, your delicate hand already reaching for his larger, dirtier one. “What happened to your thumb?”

“It got in the way of a hammer,” Joel mumbled, doing his best not to wince as you gently prodded at the swollen digit. He also did his best to ignore the softness of your skin and the warmth of your touch on him, wishing you would touch him everywhere. “You don’t have to fuss, darlin’. It just needs some ice.”

“Oh, hush up, you. Go wash your hands then sit down and relax, I’ll get you some ice and aspirin to help with the swelling. You’re lucky it’s not broken!”

“Bossy lil’ thing, aren’t you,” he grumbled, doing exactly as you ordered once his boots were kicked off to the side of the foyer. Sarah nestled against him on the couch once he sat, fussing over his thumb just as much as you did. His lips quirked upwards at the thought that it meant you both cared about him.

You returned minutes later with a bag of frozen peas, two white pills, and a bottle of cold beer in hand. “Take these,” you directed, offering him the pills and beer. Once he swallowed, you placed the bag on his hand, carefully adjusting it to wrap around his thumb. Your teeth bit into your bottom lip as you concentrated on not hurting him and he nearly groaned as an ache built up in his belly at the sight.

“Thank you, darlin’,” Joel said, voice deep and husky before clearing his throat. His eyes clocked your movements as you stood up straight and your eyes widened when they met his half-lidded gaze. He catalogued the moment to add to the growing list of moments between the two of you that hinted at something deeper, something more lingering in the air.

You waved off his thanks and headed back to the kitchen, calling over your shoulder, “I’ll make some dinner for your two before I leave.”

He wanted to follow you, to let you know he wanted you to stay for dinner, and maybe watch a movie with him and Sarah afterwards, but Sarah’s sweet little voice distracted him.

“Will you help me with my homework, Daddy?” She peered up at him with eyes that matched his own and his heart swelled with love.

“Of course, my little nugget. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

They worked on math problems until you called them for dinner, Joel relieved at the break. An exceptionally bright girl, Sarah didn’t really need his help, but she enjoyed it when he tried. Math made his head hurt, a headache starting to build between his eyes. The headache grew at the sight of only two plates full of spaghetti on the table.

“You’re not eating?” Sarah’s voice squeaked, making her dissatisfaction clear. Turning to him as you shook your head, she added, “Daddy! Tell her she can stay!”

Joel’s mouth barely opened before snapping shut again. You were already speaking, cutting off whatever he would have said.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, nugget. I gotta go now.”

“Oh, okay.” Sarah’s disappointment broke his heart, and Joel felt helpless.

“You sure you can’t stay? I thought maybe we could watch a Disney movie after.” He looked at you with unmasked hope in his eyes. He wanted you to stay even more than his daughter did, but he couldn’t tell you that.

Something flashed in your eyes but disappeared before Joel could figure out what it was. “Sorry, I have plans with a friend and I can’t stay. You two enjoy the movie without me,” you said with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’ll come by at 4:30 tomorrow, okay?”

Joel nodded, cringing at the reminder of his date, and watched you leave with a pang of disappointment rivalling Sarah’s.

Emily never changed. She was still the prettiest girl in the room and funny as hell, lifting your mood just like she did back in high school. The pair of you sat at a swanky bar downtown, catching up like you never missed any time together. You stayed in touch a bit over the years, but the distance and different priorities led to your friendship taking a back seat to everything else. Now that you were back, it was easy to dive right back into that unbreakable bond the two of you always shared and pick up where you left off.

You didn’t realize how much you missed that bond until now.

The bar filled with the typical Friday night after work crowd as the two of you sipped at your drinks and rehashed the past few years. Soon, the conversation moved to your current love life – or, more accurately, your complete lack of one.

“So, you seeing anyone lately?” Emily asked, signaling to the bartender that you were ready for another round. “Last I heard, you were with that dude… what was his name? The one that would gaslight you and always insisted your tears were weaponized when he made you cry.”

“Yeah, Tom. That asshole. I wasted too much time on him not knowing any better, but we broke up about a year and a half ago, thank God.” You cringed at the thought of all the emotional damage you had to overcome after that one. You worked hard on finding yourself again after that disaster. “No, I’m not seeing anyone.”

Ever the receptive one, Emily picked up something in your tone that you couldn’t hide. Tilting her head curiously, clocking your movements with her sharp eyes, she continued, “But there’s someone who caught your eye? Do tell!”

Without hesitation, you launched into a long-winded explanation of how you met Joel and how you’re now a mess over the guy.

“Dad’s best friend, huh? When did you become such a cliché?” Emily teased, her shoulder gently bumping yours. “He sounds dreamy, though!”

“I am not a cliché! We don’t all get to all get to marry our high school sweetheart because we met ‘the one’ when we were 15. Talk about a cliché!” You cackled, drawing the attention of two men in suits a few seats down from you, but you ignored them.

“Alright, alright,” Emily mock surrendered. “Back to dad’s best friend. What is the problem? The JB I remember is a cool guy who wouldn’t have a problem with you dating his friend, not when said friend is only a bit older than you and such a good guy.”

That caught you by surprise. “You really think my dad would be okay with it?”

Emily shrugged. “I mean, I haven’t talked to your dad in years, but I remember him being a pretty reasonable guy and he always wanted the best for you. Why wouldn’t he want you to be with someone responsible and caring like this Joel guy?”

You nodded thoughtfully, your teeth worrying your plump bottom lip. “Even if my dad was cool with it, there’s the fact that Joel is not interested. He’s going on a date tomorrow, for fuck’s sake.”

After a moment of consideration, Emily asked, “Does he do that often? Date, I mean.”

You shook your head, fingers dancing absentmindedly along the edge of the bar. “Apparently not. He said it’s the first one in a long time.”

Emily’s eyes narrowed. “And you don’t find the timing suspicious?”

That caught you off guard, your eyes darting to hers. “Should I?”

Shoulders shrugging beneath long layers of dark hair, Emily hummed. “Maybe? From what you just told me about your interactions, I find it interesting that he’s suddenly going on a date. Makes me think he has feelings and he’s struggling with them just like you are.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about that.” You blew off her observations, you couldn’t afford to start having hope now when he was going on a date tomorrow. Instead, you changed the subject. “So, how are you and Ed doing?”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of conversation and mixed drinks with the occasional interruption from a few brave men hitting on you. It crossed your mind to flirt with one or two of them, but you were having too much fun catching up with Emily and blew each of them off. Before you knew it, the hour was late and Emily’s husband, Ed, picked you both up to make sure you got home safe.

“What the hell am I doing?” Joel asked his reflection as he tried on his fourth shirt from his closet. He wasn’t looking forward to this date at all, his mind a mess between feeling guilty about leaving Sarah, the confusing mix of emotions revolving around you, and his complete lack of confidence.

Torn between trying too hard and not trying at all, he huffed in frustration, ripping the buttons of the shirt open before tossing it onto the growing pile of discarded clothes on his bed.

He had no business going on a date. What had he been thinking when he agreed to go?

Joel slumped onto his bed in defeat, his right fist coming up to bump against his forehead. How could he ever think that going on a date would get his mind off you? Not to mention, he felt like a dick for asking you to watch Sarah while he went on said date.

God, he really wasn’t good with this kind of shit.

A glance at the clock got him moving. You were due to arrive shortly, and he had to pick Annica up for a 5:30 reservation Tommy insisted he make. There was no room to dilly dally.

Another glance through his closet and Joel settled on a blue flannel and dark jeans, paired with newer black boots. Best to just be himself, he thought. Using a bit of gel, he pushed his curls back from his face. His beard was freshly trimmed, and he ran his truck through the car wash earlier in the day.

“That’s as good as it’s gonna get,” he said to his reflection before leaving his bedroom, the doorbell ringing as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Joel opened the door to find you standing there, your feet shifting uncertainly. You looked tired, yet beautiful as always and he gulped. “Hey, why didn’t you just come in? You have a key.”

“Hey Joel,” you greeted with a shrug, your voice quiet. Your eyes scanned from his head down to his feet like you were drinking him in. “Just didn’t feel right, I guess.”

“Ok?” Confused, he waited for you to explain, but you kept your mouth shut. Something was off with you. He wondered if something happened last night – you said you had plans, had it been a date of your own? His heart skipped a beat as he shook his head clear. “Well, come on in. You doin’ alright, darlin’?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed back causing Joel’s brows to pull into a frown as you followed him into the house. “You look nice. Ready for your date?”

Was it just him or did it seem like asking that question pained you? What the fuck was wrong with him? Shaking his head free of thoughts like that, he blushed. “Oh, uh, thanks. As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” After a beat, he added, “I’m kinda nervous, actually.”

Joel watched your eyes soften at that. “You shouldn’t be. Any woman would be lucky to go on a date with you.”

Including you? he wondered. There was a wistfulness to your voice that shattered him, leaving him ready to ditch his date and stay there with you and Sarah. “Hey, I, um—”

“You’re here! Finally! Come on, I want to show you something!” Sarah sprinted into the living room, grabbing your hand, and stealing your attention before Joel could finish his sentence. Maybe that was a good thing. God only knows what was about to come out of his mouth.

“Slow down, nugget! I’m coming,” you laughed as the young girl dragged you toward the stairs. It was the first smile of yours Joel glimpsed since you arrived, and his heart beat heavy in his chest when you turned to speak to him over your shoulder, your broad smile dimming with your next words. “Have fun tonight, Joel. You deserve a nice night out.”

“Thanks, darlin’,” he replied, the words heavy in his mouth. Clearing his throat, he called out, “Be good, Sarah! I ordered pizza for you both, should be here soon.”

“I always am, Dad! Love you!” Sarah yelled down the stairs, her attention already focused on whatever she wanted to show you.

“Love you, too.” Joel continued staring up the stairs long after the two of you were out of sight, a sense of yearning knotted deep in his chest. Forcing himself to look away, he grabbed his keys and headed for the door, once again asking himself why the hell he agreed to this date in the first place.

“Can we go see it tonight? Please?” Sarah gazed up at you with her dark eyes widened like a baby cow and you were powerless. How did Joel ever tell this precious, sweet girl ‘no’? It was impossible.

“Let’s see what the showtimes are first. We can’t be out too late.” Scanning the movie listing Sarah pulled up on her tablet, you found the showtimes for the latest kid friendly adventure movie she wanted to see. “There’s one at 6:30. We can totally do that one and still have you home for bedtime. Sound good?”

“Yes! Can we get popcorn?”

“Of course! No trip to the movies is complete without popcorn.”

The two of you ate some pizza before getting ready to go. You liked getting there early enough to find your seats and see the trailers before the movie started. Texting Joel on your way out the door to let him know you were taking Sarah out, the two of you climbed into your car.

The movie theater was busy as usual for a Saturday evening, but you found a good parking spot beneath a light post not far from the entrance. There were lines for tickets and concessions leaving you relieved at arriving early. With tickets in hand, you led Sarah to the shortest of lines in front of the concessions counter. That’s when you saw them.

A tall blonde with big hair and legs for days, wearing tight fitting jeans like a second skin and yapping away while walking closely with a taller man with broad shoulders and curly, dark hair. The man’s sleeves were rolled up, his left hand placed low on the woman’s back, gently guiding her as she gripped a bucket of popcorn and a fountain drink. Another fountain drink was clutched in the man’s right hand. As if he felt the searing heat of your jealous gaze, the man turned, and your stomach plummeted.

Joel’s dark umber eyes met yours in surprise, his hand dropping from the woman’s back as he watched your face fall. He looked uncertain, like he didn’t know whether to carry on with his date or rush to your side. His eyes darted to find Sarah standing at your side, her focus on the snacks displayed within the glass counter. Forcing a half smile to your face, you dipped your head in greeting and turned to move forward, your attention refocusing as it was your turn to plan an order. All the while, your mind raced with thoughts of Joel and his date. Knowing that he wouldn’t want to introduce his daughter on a first date, you never told Sarah that you saw him.

Handing the bucket of popcorn to Sarah, you said, “Careful now. I’ll grab napkins and carry our drinks.” You led the way past the concessions toward the designated theater, which was, thankfully, on the other side of the building from where Joel and his date had been heading.

You phone buzzed in your pocket once you and Sarah were seated – in the middle of the aisle, at Sarah’s insistence, because you’d have the best view. It was a text from Joel.

JM: Sorry darlin’ just saw your text. Hope you and Sarah enjoy your movie.

Torn between responding or just leaving him on read, you went with a third option and gave his message a thumbs up before shoving the phone deep into your pocket. Minutes later, you relented with a sigh, pulling the phone back out to respond a little kindlier.

You: Thanks. I didn’t know you were taking your date to the movies or we would have gone somewhere else.

Bubbles appeared as he was typing, but you didn’t want to see what else he had to say. Silencing your phone, you shoved it back into your pocket.

You were distracted the entire movie, staring blankly at the large screen as you over-analyzed every detail about Joel’s date. She was closer to his age, maybe even a bit older, with big, perky boobs and a pretty face covered with a thick layer of makeup. Her hairstyle fit the old quote, “the bigger the hair, the closer to God” and likely took her an hour or more to style. She made an effort, that’s what seemed to matter. Meanwhile, you sat in the theater with your hair scraped back into a messy ponytail and wearing worn jeans and a hoodie. You felt like a child compared to Joel’s date.

Part of you wanted to hate her for having all the features that Joel apparently found attractive, but you couldn’t. It wasn’t her fault the man you were pining over wasn’t the least bit interested in you.

Finally, the credits rolled, and you pretended to have paid attention to the movie as you listened to Sarah gushing over it for the entire ride back to the Miller house and in the moments between brushing her teeth and tucking her into bed.

The living room couch was particularly comfortable when you sat on it, your body settling into the pillowy cushions with a sigh as you stretched across it. Staring at the ceiling, eyes blinking tiredly, you wondered when Joel would be home, both eager for and dreading his arrival. Still mortified over nearly crashing his date and self-conscious about not fitting the mold of what he found attractive, you wondered what you’d even say to him when he walked through the door.

The pull of sleep too strong to fight, you submitted to the emotional exhaustion, dozing off until a gentle shake of your shoulder caused you to stir.

“Darlin’, go sleep in the spare room,” Joel murmured as you blinked your eyes open.

It took you a moment to come back to your senses, your body following his orders before your brain kicked back to life. He stepped back as you got up, one strong hand reaching out to hold you steady as you wobbled. You met his eyes as the haze of sleep began to clear. He gazed at you with such a soft look you trembled.

“You okay there?” he asked with a quiet laugh and your eyes flicked down to his mouth, catching the glint of something on his cheek, just above his beard. Focusing on that spot, it became clearer. A very distinct lipstick mark. He wasn’t even bothering to hide it.

Wrenching yourself from his gentle grasp, you slipped on your shoes and pulled your keys from your pocket.

Joel watched your every move, confused and clearly not wanting you to leave. “Hey, where are you going? Just take the spare room. You’re still half asleep.”

Shaking your head, you avoided looking at him. “Nah, Imma head home. G’night Joel, see ya Monday,” you said, turning your back on him as you headed for the door. Unable to help yourself as you wrenched the front door open, you added, “Might wanna go clean your face off.”

“What?” his baffled question echoed behind you as the door closed.

tbc

Taglist: @mellymbee@untamedheart81@anoverwhelmingdin@runningmom94@leilanixx@pedropascalfan221@lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr @lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg @ashleyfilm @brittmb115

[spacerockfloater]

Me watching Feyre convince herself that Tamlin is a disgusting monster who only used her to get his power back and then stopped caring for her the moment she became his because he was some selfish lunatic who wanted to keep her as his useless plaything the more time she spends with Rhysand and his Inner Court:

Tamlin. The guy who helped her family even if he only needed Feyre. The guy who had to watch the love of his life die screaming in pain as Amarantha broke every bone in her body. The guy who crawled in front of Amarantha and begged her to spare her while his own blood drowned him. The guy who slept at Feyre’s feet each night out of paranoia that something would happen to her, not him. The guy who let Feyre roam his court and help whomever she wants until she found out that these people had their own healing to do and the help they actually needed, looking up to someone, was not something she wanted to offer. The guy who had to watch her reject him publicly by hesitating at the altar and never even mentioned it because he didn’t want to embarrass or upset her. The guy who had to watch her get abducted every month by his nemesis, a known masochist. The guy who waited and gave her space. The guy who was searching for a way to break the bond all of these months even though she furiously blamed him that he was not doing enough to cancel her bargain with Rhys, a bargain she willingly made and was responsible for. The guy who was willing to let her go even if it meant condemning an entire world. The guy who launched himself at Hybern to save her sisters.

And he’s crazy because he wanted to keep her safe in their fucking palace for one evening?

Reading Feyre’s narrative after she started hanging out with the people of the Night Court made my skin crawl. I kept gripping the book furiously and mentally telling her “Wait, that’s not what fucking happened” every time she spoke about Tamlin. It was horrifying because this is exactly what I always imagined people who abandon you do: leave you and then tell people their own, made up version of events.

Watching her stop speaking about him with love and slowly paint him as her tormentor was like watching a train wreck you couldn’t prevent:

- I love Tamlin and he loves me and we have sacrificed so much for one another.

- I love Tamlin and both of us are dealing with a lot right now, but we’re trying and we’ll make it.

- Tamlin loved me and he made some wrong decisions but I still feel like I’m cheating on him.

- Tamlin’s actions were wrong and I hope we’ll sort things out once we all calm down.

- Tamlin gave me everything but he still made some wrong decisions.

- Tamlin really cared for me but I don’t need what he has to offer me anymore.

- Tamlin was right about my safety after all but I have decided I don’t care and don’t forgive him.

- Tamlin only wanted me because I was useful and then stopped caring for me.

- Tamlin is a selfish prick who used me and then tossed me aside and wanted me to be his stupid ignorant pet and he didn’t give a fuck about me and I hate him and want him to die.

Feyre. Feyre. FEYRE. Wake up. None of this is true. You’re spiralling and you’re blaming him for every little thing he ever did that slightly inconvenienced you while you forgive and justify each and every one of Rhysand’s horrendous crimes against you, all of his countless lies, all of his manipulation.

I think she just never loved Tamlin and that’s why it was easier to hate him.

[worldofkuro]

Hi, I love your fic and this may seem really random, you don't have you write it at all, but could you please do a self-harm!reader and Alastor comforting her, or just Alastor comforting her after finding her having a mental breakdown alone. I suggest maybe when their teens cause teens often have mental breakdowns (or maybe that was just me). Thanks again if you see this <3

Ohoh, dear, trust me, I know, even adults. Thank you for loving Painted Smile, it's always a pleasure to hear your thoughts about it! I wanted to warn you, it’s not fluff, this is how Painted Smile!Alastor would react and we all know he doesn’t work like a “normal” being, he is crazy and that is why we love him, I suppose. This is Alastor’s way of saving you from yourself. So please, if you are easily shocked, don’t read it. TW: Self harm

You were in front of the mirror, in the bathroom, looking at yourself with a blade in your hand. You didn’t know when you started crying but you just wanted this pain to end. You didn’t understand when you felt this never ending torment crawl in your mind. You had loving parents, friends that were here for you and yet, sometimes you feel lonelier than ever.

You didn’t remember the first time you dug the blade in your skin. Maybe it was because you needed to feel something real, something that would ground you. To save you from drowning, you felt the need to hurt your body.

Your body could heal, your mind couldn’t.

That was what you were telling yourself. Every wound would heal itself, because your body wanted to live, wanted to keep on living while your mind was torturing you with thoughts you felt like you didn’t deserve to have.

When did this agony begin..?

You held back a sob as blood was beginning to slide down your wrist. It was pretty, making you believe you were pretty inside. You didn't want to be a burden, you didn't want people to be condescending because you were feeling sad or anxious. They would send you to a hospital and never look back.

But this time, it wasn’t enough. Even though the blade cut your skin, it wasn’t enough. You began to cut yourself once more, trying to go deeper until this torment inside your mind would stop.

“ Dearest ?”

You turned your head toward the door you were sure you had locked and there was Alastor, staring at you with his usual smile. You quickly hide your arms behind your back, your whole body shaking. 

You felt shame enveloping you in an uncomfortable hug. You opened your mouth but no words could come out. You didn’t know what was going to happen and you didn’t want to find out.

“ That’s a lot of blood. May I see?” he held his hand toward you, closing the door after him. You took a step back as he came closer, looking at the mess on the floor. You were shaking, angry with yourself to be found in that situation, angry at Alastor to discover your secret, you just felt.. angry.

“ No. Get out.. I don’t have time for jokes.” you tried to keep your voice strong even though it was only a mere whisper.

“ Who’s joking?” he took the blade from your shaking hands and stared at it before looking at you. He gently took your bloodied wrist on his hand with a soft smile. “ It’s going to scar.”

You looked at him, confused. Why wasn’t he screaming at you, calling you crazy or hysterical ? You let him look at your wounds, you felt like this moment was more intimate than you realized. 

“ Do you want to keep going?” he tilted his head toward you making your eyes widened in shock. He wanted you to continue..? “ Your cut isn’t bad but this isn’t the best way to cut yourself, my dear.”

“ You… You aren’t angry..?”

“ With you? Of course not. But I’m curious, why are you cutting yourself?” he stroked your bloodied skin while staring at you. As you weakly tried to explain your inner turmoil Alastor was observing while wiping your tears and your blood from your skin. “ I see. Let’s go kill animals, it helps me when I’m feeling down!” he beamed at you.

“ What? No! Why? They didn’t do anything wrong!”

“ So did you, dearest. And yet, you’re still hurting yourself.” he tilted his head, seeming confused. You closed your mouth at his words, it echoed inside of you, you didn't do anything wrong and yet… “ Next time you want to hurt yourself, wait for me.”

“ Why..? Shouldn’t you try to stop me?”

“ Is it going to make you stop?” he stared at you as you weakly shook your head, this pain was something that you needed now, you didn’t feel like living without it anymore.. Even your body would beg you to do it sometimes…” That’s what I thought. So, my dearest friend, when you want to cut yourself, wait for me, I’ll cut you.”

You stared at him, your eyes wide opened. Did he really say..?

“ Alastor… You..”

“ Like I told you, I know how to cut. Your cuts are messy and dangerous, you could have touched a veins here. So, if you allow me, I’ll cut you.” he pressed the blade slightly against your skin, making you gasp. You looked at Alastor, you didn’t know what to think about it and yet.. It was oddly comforting to think Alastor, your friend, your special person, would do that for you.

“ Are we crazy, Alastor?” you whispered.

“ Completely insane, dear!” he laughed as he cleaned your wounds, already preparing bandages. He hummed before kissing your cut. “ One cut, one kiss, what about it?”

You nodded as he slid the blade against your skin, it wasn’t like you were doing. The blade wasn’t cutting deeply, it was enough to draw blood, but it wasn’t as messy as you would do. Alastor was staring at your face, observing every reaction. It was comforting, letting Alastor have his way with your life. He could kill you if he made a bad cut but you knew he never would.

You were letting him hold your life in his hands and it was… a good feeling. You knew Alastor was feeling the same, his pupils were dilated, you could hear his breathing getting harder, the same as yours.

You looked at the wounds as Alastor kissed it, getting dirty with your blood.

“ I’m used to scars that are made by hate and violence, I don’t want you to feel that. So, my dear, let me scar you with my affections for you.”

You didn’t know if you should be scared or disgusted but at that moment, you felt nothing but relief. You weren’t alone in this torment anymore.

[xkaidaxxxx]

Zuko x chubby reader

Mentions: body shaming, foul language, angst,aggression, lying, fluff?!

Simple! :) sorry for errors.

“You look very beautiful y/n.” Katara mentioned "Thanks. I decided it's time for a change." You replied. Katara's complement made you blush. Sokka was surprisingly good at cutting hair. He gave it layers and added braids that held your hair back. “ I agree with Katara” Mai spoke. You instantly felt horrible with the new hairstyle. Mai isn’t the one to express her feelings so that comment made you believe otherwise. Perhaps cutting your hair shouldn't have crossed your mind.

Aang noticed you playing with the charm bracelet you wore. It tells him a lot about how you feel. He noticed you'd touch a certain charm with the emotion you were feeling, such as anger, happiness, sadness, anxiety, etc.“Katara is right y/n. It suits you! Sokka did a great job.” He spoke. He had that nice big smile. “ New hair cut? Looks nice” Zuko said patting your back. You’ve been dating him for 4 months and you’re very thrilled about it. He’s very kind and romantic when alone with you.

The day went on by. Everyone was calm. You can hear the ocean tides and feel the wind blowing. “Tell her. I’m tired of hiding.” Mai said. Zuko rubbed his temples. “It’s not that simple Mai. I can’t dump her out of the blue.” He responded. You heard them. “You don’t even like her. Why did you agree on dating her?” Your tears slipped. You didn’t want to hear his answer. “Because…she’s saved me many times..and I felt bad. It looked like she was going to cry if I said no.That and how many guys do chubby girls date? Almost never. I’m giving her a little hope.” You cried silently. You felt sudden saddens and hate. Running towards the ocean Katara called out to you. “ Y/n we’re making lunch! Wanna come help?” You ignored her walking back and forth. The waves following your movement. You made a fist. Your anger was so out of control you created a storm. “ Hey! Y/n you created a problem here!” Sokka yelled as Aang used his air bending to keep the water from drenching them. “Sorry!” You took a few deep breathes calming away the storm and the crazy waves.

“What’s got you so upset?” Katara asked giving you a tight hug. “ I keep losing my arrows. Haha. I overreacted.” She knew you were lying. She’s your most trusted person. Katara understands your personality, sense of humor, and the way you just are. She whispered. “We can talk about it later.” You smiled and nodded. Lunch was yummy. Everyone’s stomach was content.

Another 3 months went by. All the same apparently Zuko still loves you and wants to spend was much time with you as possible. It was such bullshit. You heard him leave with Mai at midnight. You saw how they treated each other. The little things showed everything.

The ride on the ship was wild. Not because there was a storm or someone was throwing arrows,fire rocks or trying to drown you all. Simply because an argument started.

“ you have no right to be upset. I’ve known him longer. You don’t get it.” Mai said with a straight face. You couldn’t believe what she said. The fire nation is insane however a regular family took you in. You eventually met Zuko. “ Have no right to be upset!? Are you kidding me? Yeah, he was your childhood sweetheart or whatever but who followed behind him when he was exiled !? Me! Which one of us cared to help him emotionally? Me! I’ve given him all my love and support even if it meant I’d be killed on the spot for betraying the fire nation. You did nothing but hide underneath Azula’s shadow and power. Yeah, I have every right to be upset.” You replied tears falling down your cheeks. Everyone was witnessing this mess. You were smarter, stronger, and more reasonable than her. “Zuko out of all the mistakes you’ve made. Cheating on me is the worst one. I know I’m beautiful even if I’m skinny or not. Not many chubby girls get boyfriends you sure were right about that. You should’ve rejected me from the start because I don’t need your pity.” You spoke finally feeling relieved. You said everything you’ve been wanting to say. “You heard us that day? Why didn’t you confront us then?” Zuko asked looking Towards Mai and then at you. “I had hope that along the way you’d realize what you did was wrong and you’d fall in love with me. 3 months later it’s the same. Clearly, I was wrong. I’m done. I’m dumping your ass. I hope you feel guilty for body shaming and lying.” You replied holding onto Katara’s arm. You couldn’t help but do so. She’s your best friend since you’ve met her. “ One day there will be an amazing man who will fall in love with you. He’ll love everything about you.” Katara said. You smiled and hugged her. “ Awe!” Aang and Sokka said in unison.

Pt.2 is posted !!!

[peachsayshi]

➳  minors / ageless / blank blogs dni  ➳  tags: angsty; hurt/comfort; mentions of riko’s death; girl dad suguru; trauma

I have this hc that suguru is a bit sensitive about being a father to his daughters, but it definitely has to with the trauma of riko’s death. 

this girl, who he only knew for three days, lingers around him like a ghost. she stands over his shoulder when he first sees Mimiko and Nanako trapped in the cage and whispers in his ear to “take them home”. 

she stands over his shoulder when he holds his newborn daughter in his arms, and reminds him to “take her to places, and let her see everything” 

sometimes you’ll notice his emotional reactions - like how his eyes brim with tears when his daughters tell him that they love him, or the way his voice breaks whenever he sees them overcome with immense joy. but he holds it all in, keeps everything bottled up because he’s too afraid to release the dam and allow these feelings to drown him out. 

however, on one particular father’s day, he finds himself overwhelmed beyond reasoning. maybe it was seeing the multiple hand crafted gifts the twins made him, each girl parceling him present after present like they are trying to return his love tenfold. maybe it was the act of his three year old daughter feeding him pieces of the cupcakes that “she made” together with you, in the same way that suguru mindlessly offers her tidbits of fruit at the dinner table.

he’s finds himself sitting on his bed afterwards, taking in all the love, but he can feel riko by his side. time moves forward but she always stays the same, frozen in her youth. she leans her cheek onto his shoulder and sighs with content as she whispers that “this is how it should be”. 

for whatever reason he feels like his immense love for his girls is also the atonement for the one he couldn’t save. 

so when you step out of the shower, you’re a little taken aback to find him staring blankly at the floor but are even more surprised when you notice tears streaming down his pretty face. 

it’s so rare for him to let go - so, you sit by his side while cradling his cheeks in your palm as you face him towards you. you swipe away the tears and peck against the trail while asking with concern if he’s alright, if he’s upset about anything...

he just reaches for your wrists, his forehead kissing yours as he allows himself to be tenderly held between his past and present. there is so much that he represses, plenty of things that toils around that beautifully vast mind of his. it would take more than these few minutes for him to completely unravel before you, but he deeply cherishes your patience with him. 

“I just...” he starts to say, but decides to stick to the most basic answer he can find. “I just don’t realize how much they love me” 

“it’s immeasurable,” you coo with a smile, leaving a sweet kiss on the corner of his mouth, “you’re an amazing father, suguru. you would give them the world in the palm of their hands if you could...” 

“I’m trying my best,” he exhales with a tiny sniffle but the front of his brows knit together in slight agony, with his memory flashing to when he held out his hand to Riko and tried offering her the very same thing. 

[cptnleviackerman]

"Am I your lockscreen?"

jean kirstein x gn reader

content - modern au, fluff, jean calls reader pretty, jean gets embarrassed when you look at his phone words - 1k

"Do you seriously think you have better moves than me, Kirstein?"

Jean tilts his head, but keeps his eyes focused on the screen, not wanting to let your taunting get to him. 

The two of you had been engaged in a close battle of video games all afternoon, currently playing a 3 round game of tennis on the Wii to decide which one of you gets to choose the place you'll order food from for dinner. 

"Babe, just watch this serve and you'll be eating your words." He brings his arm back in preparation for his tennis serve. "Just like you'll be eating Chinese food for dinner!" 

Jean ends his sentence with a whoop, clearly already planning his victory as he prepares to undergo what he assumes will be his final few swings. 

The first swing is his serve, a nice and solid start in which he had you leaping to cover your end of the court. 

"You know if I win this set I win the entire match, right? It's match point, baby."

You scoff, trying your best to ignore him. 

His second swing has your heart beating frantically, and even though your eyes have been trained on his every move on screen, you still almost miss it—managing to save it by the skin of your teeth. 

"I love you baby, but there ain't no way I'm letting you win right now."

And he's right. His third swing is his most forceful yet, and you're pretty sure he almost let go off the Wii remote—thank god you told him to use the remote straps. 

You groan the second your Mii misses the tennis ball, but it's drowned out by Jean's incredibly loud, and giddy, cheering. 

"Wooooooo! Aw yeah, ah ye— did you see that, babe?—ah yeah, I'm a genius, I literally nailed that!—that was amazing." 

His cheering bleeds into something more along the lines of a song, and you can't help but laugh as you reach across the sofa to pick up Jean's phone, thinking that you may as well get the menu up and ready to browse while he finishes his gloating.

"Yeah yeah yeah, it's probably for the best anyway, you're such a sore loser—" 

Jean turns to look at you—ready to take all your teasing about how much of a bad loser he is, and how you let him win this game to save your poor ears from having to hear all his whining—when his eyes widen.

“Am I your lockscreen?” You ask, stunned.

ShitShitShit

Jean grimaces. 

Act dumb.

“What are you talking about? I… I don’t think I have a lockscreen at the moment.”

Not that dumb.

You smile, narrowing your eyes slightly in amusement as Jean’s mouth opens and closes. 

"And you're sure about that, huh?" 

"I think maybe Eren changed it the other day…" 

You stare at him, watching the cogs turning in his head. 

"I never change my lockscreen—I wouldn't even know how to—and if I did I'd only ever change it to something really good—not that you're not good—shit—I mean like, a good photo of the sky or a nice group shot or a pic of my dog—not that I think you're like my dog—you're really pretty—not that my dogs not pretty—it's a different type of pretty, you know? You wouldn't compare apples to oranges—no wait—that's not right…"

Jean looks to the ground as he trails off—not daring to meet your eyes. He could feel the tips of his ears burning. His face felt hot. His heart was racing wildly. 

God. That was a mess.

“Jean?”

He continues avoiding your eyes, willing the ground to open up and swallow him right where he stood.

“Jean?” You ask again, “Is this photo from my instagra—”

“You weren’t supposed to see that.” Jean says quickly. 

You look at him for a second—watching his chest rise and fall rapidly, and seeing how his hands are beginning to shake—and you take a step towards him. 

“Jean, would you please look at me?”

He doesn't.

“Baby, I’m serious,” you try not to smile at his stubbornness, “it's very, super, extremely important that you look at me right now.”

You step in front of your boyfriend, placing your hands on his cheeks and angling his head so he is forced to look at you.

“I’m not mad, Jean. I’m not upset or confused or embarrassed, or whatever it is that you think I'm feeling right now.” 

Jean furrows his eyebrows, but he doesn’t dare to interrupt. 

“I love it. A lot. And I can't believe I didn’t know—wait, is this what Eren was teasing you about the other day?”

Jean nods, and you're unable to stop the smile that lights up your face.

“Oh my god… you’re the sweetest guy ever.” 

You move your hands from his face, and instead settle your arms around his waist, pulling him ever so slightly closer to you.

“Why didn't you want me to know?”

“I don’t know… I think maybe I thought it was too soon…?” Jean says, his voice rising as he reaches the end of his sentence.

You shake your head.

“It’s not too soon, definitely not at all. I love it, okay?”

“Okay.” Jean smiles.

“Just promise me one thing—”

“Anything.”

“Next time you want a photo for your lockscreen, just ask me. I don’t want you to be forced to use the same photos that everybody gets to see. I want you to have something special.”

Jean feels his cheeks flare up with warmth at your words, but he nods his head.

Satisfied, you untangle your arms from around his waist and plop yourself down on the sofa, holding his phone out towards him.

Jean’s puzzled look causes you to let out a small giggle.

“Baby… You won, now come over here and order me some Chinese food.”

Jean grins, his cocky winner demeanour suddenly returning as he sits down next to you, flopping himself practically on top of you and slinking his arm around your shoulder.

“Give me that phone babe, it's time for the winner to choose the dinner.”

[bluebeary-jay]

scattered thoughts / sharp focus

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Joel is taken away from you and upon finding him almost-dead... something in you snaps ((kinda part 2 to clouded judgment / clear mind, but you don't necessarily need to read that one))

Tags: ANGST, angst with happy ending, near death experiences, Joel has surprisingly little screen time but you'll see he was there in spirit

Warnings: REALLY graphic descriptions of violence, small panic attacks, KINDA torture(?) 😳, choking, lemme know if i missed something

Word count: 7.5K

A/N: i can't believe i've finally finished it! i aimed for a worthy successor to cj/cm aaand i hope i managed but jeez was it hard. also i told myself i won't be writing sth like that again but i kinda have an idea for the final part (would be hurt/comfort 🤭) so let me know if it's sth you'd like to read. anyway as always happy reading!! 💕🥰 comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated, i absolutely love seeing what you think of my fics!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

You swallowed your tears and rested the chin on your hands, trying to push back the wave of panic threatening to drown you.

“Tell me again.”

Tommy sighed, his own eyes empty and worried.

“I don’t know who those guys were, but they obviously knew Joel. There was a dark man leadin’ them, and I think he had somethin’ wrong with his lip, but it was too far for me to take a good look. The group consisted of five, maybe six people? And I shot one of them, but he appeared to still be alive when they were leavin’.”

You were silent for a couple of seconds, trying to make sense of it all.

“And where did they take him?”

“I reckon to the old ski resort on the top of the mountain. We ventured pretty far from here to investigate these tracks.”

You nodded and steeled yourself, taking a deep, trembling breath and quickly drying your tears.

“Okay. I’m going.”

“You’re not.” Maria leaned over the table, her expression unyielding. “The decision is final.”

“I am going,” you repeated fiercely, slamming the flat of your hand against the tabletop, but Tommy gave you a stern look, which made you bite your tongue. “Look, I get that you don’t want to lose even more people in a rescue mission–”

“This is not what it’s about,” Maria retorted, almost looking hurt by your words. “Believe me, if I wasn’t carrying another human being inside me, I’d already be going after them. But you have to take other things into consideration.”

“She’s right,” Tommy spoke up quietly, though equally irritably, and you turned sharply to look at him in disbelief. “The route to the resort is very advantageous to fall into an ambush. They could shoot us off like ducks and we’d have nowhere to hide.”

“I don’t care,” you ground out, looking from one to the other. “We can’t leave Joel. He’s your family, for goddamn–”

“You think I don’t know that?!” shouted Tommy abruptly, bringing his hand down onto the table, too. “He’s my fucking brother and was family way before you were even born!”

“Tommy.” Maria kicked him under the table, keeping one hand on her belly. Her husband flared his nostrils, clearly agitated by your words, but you were too angry yourself to care right now. You two glared at each other for some time before Tommy clenched his fists and turned around.

“M’goin’ to get some air,” he said gloomily over his shoulder, already at the door leading outside. Maria sighed and looked at you again.

“Please. Don’t do anything stupid, and I swear I’ll send a group out as soon as this blizzard ends.”

“He can be long dead by then,” you answered gravely, really set off by Tommy’s reaction and his words. You tried to will your tear ducts to hold any signs of stress and worry, not wanting to show your friend how broken and helpless you felt inside. “If it was me, he’d already be halfway there to save me, Maria.”

“I know. But just think about it. If something happens to you…” She shook her head. “How do you think I’d be able to look Joel in the eyes and explain why… how…”

She genuinely seemed at a loss of words, and you sighed, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

“I understand where you’re coming from, I really do. But I need to get him home, Maria. I have to.”

With that, you stood up, feeling like you were going to suffocate if you stayed in the room any longer. You didn’t look back even when you heard Maria calling your name softly.

There wasn’t any sense in discussing the matter with any of them – you made up your mind to go and save Joel and there was no way anyone would make you stay. He wouldn’t hesitate to go and get you if anyone dared to lay a hand on you.

You remembered that one time when he killed a group of men who wanted to use you as a bargaining chip to gain entry to Jackson. And how afterward you told him you’d do the same for him, unable to bear the painful and guilty expression on his face.

Now you planned on doing just that.

You were scared – of course you were, you weren’t stupid – and the nerves were practically eating you alive, gnawing at your bones and hurting your muscles from the inside out.

But the worst was the fear of never seeing Joel again. Of something happening to him. And you couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t at least try…

“I’m coming with you.”

Your head snapped to the side. There stood Ellie – dressed in a warm jacket and a hat that didn’t cover her ears. Her eyes were full of fire, and you recognized the anger and determination in her expression as the same which were almost suffocating you.

Of course she was eavesdropping on the conversation. It was Joel that it was about, after all, her dad in all but one sense.

And suddenly you understood what Maria meant by not being able to look Joel in the eyes if something happened to you.

“No,” you said curtly, walking past her and out onto the street in the direction of your house.

“I’m not asking for permission.” Ellie was right behind you, and the force of her steps showed just how angry and frustrated she was – just like you felt. “I know you’re gonna go after those guys, and I’m coming with you.”

“You’re not,” you repeated more sternly, not turning around to face her. You reached your house and fumbled to open the door. “You’re staying and that’s fina–”

You stopped yourself and sighed, pressing your forehead against the wooden surface.

It was unfair. You were unfair. If those exact words spoken by Maria have set you off so much, you wouldn’t be surprised if Ellie…

“You’re not my fucking mom, remember?” the girl barked angrily, and you let out a shuddering breath, stressed to your limits with everything that happened in the last few hours. “You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do just because you’re older!”

It’s okay. It’s gonna be fine. Everything is gonna be okay.

“I know,” you whispered after a couple of seconds of silence, still not turning around. “I’m sorry.”

Ellie didn’t answer. You repeated your quiet mantra and glanced over your shoulder at her. “But Ellie, I… I can’t let you go. Joel would never forgive me if something happened to you.”

Jesus. Exactly like Maria.

Ellie still looked pissed at your earlier words, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Well, you’re not the only one who cares about him, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. But you’re the one he cares about the most.”

Ellie opened her mouth. Closed it and furrowed her eyebrows, but the irritation in her eyes dimmed. You gave her a small, apologetic smile, trying not to burst into tears.

“He’s gonna be fine, you know,” you lied smoothly, opening the door. “And Maria said she’ll send a group to retrieve him as soon as the storm eases up a bit.”

You didn’t even need to look to know that she didn’t believe you. To be honest, you wouldn’t believe yourself either in this situation.

You waited several seconds to see if the girl wanted to say something else, but after a few moments she spun on her heel and went back, not saying anything. You stared after her, but when the thick snow made her figure just a fuzzy shape, you gently closed the door and pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes.

It’s going to be fine. You’ll get Joel back and all will be okay.

You took a couple of deep – albeit shaky – breaths to pull yourself together, and when you were pretty sure you weren’t about to start crying, you made your way into the kitchen. And stopped short.

At your table sat Tommy, fiddling with his thumbs.

“Fuck, Tommy,” you mumbled, trying to calm down your pounding heart. “You scared the crap out of me.”

The younger Miller looked up, but stayed silent. You looked at each other for a few tense moments, but ultimately you sighed and left him in the kitchen, going to your room to get a backpack and another, more fitting, set of clothes.

He was still there when you returned to the kitchen with your stuff, but you didn’t even pretend you weren’t preparing to head out. The man watched silently as you put the backpack down by the door, went to retrieve and reload your gun, and gathered some essentials on the table, not once glancing in his direction.

You were persistent in ignoring Tommy’s presence, but then he finally spoke up.

“We can go before dawn. I’ll get the horses ready and we will take the fourth gate.”

You froze and stopped what you were doing, then turned around and placed your hand on your hip.

“We can’t take horses up there. Not in this weather.”

“We’ll leave them at the fifteenth checkmark. That place in the East where there are so many swallows durin’ spring.”

You nodded, and your gaze softened when you looked him over. Tommy was just as worried about Joel as you were, you knew it. He was just better at hiding it.

“I’m sorry for what I said,” you murmured, feeling terrible that in such a short amount of time, it was a second person you were apologizing to. “But you know I have to go after him. You know that.”

“Fuck,” he swore quietly, sighing. “Yeah, I know. There’s no way I ain’t goin’ either. Just… I just hate doing somethin’ behind Maria’s back.”

You didn’t answer – because what could you say? That he didn’t have to go with you? As much as you wanted to save Joel, pretending not to care about the dangers or anyone’s opinion, you knew you’d probably die if you went alone. But it didn’t mean you were going to ignore all that Tommy was risking by coming along with you.

“You don’t have to, Tommy,” you whispered. “You have your wife to think about, after all. And your–”

“I know,” he interrupted glumly. “Don’t worry. All of us will come back.”

You nodded. You really hoped he was right.

*****

At first, everything was going according to plan.

At least, until Ellie decided to show up.

She surprised both you and Tommy a couple of miles outside of Jackson, probably thinking that it was far enough that you won’t try to send her away.

You tried anyway. You were understandably furious, not only because she didn’t listen to you, but also that she trailed after you both for so long in this weather. Her reveal caused a short screaming match and a couple of nervous tears shed by you, but eventually you and Tommy decided it’d be more dangerous to make Ellie go back to Jackson alone. So she continued with you to the house where you left your horses, then past it and in the direction of the ski resort.

You didn’t know how many people were at the resort, and there were only the two of you – well, three, counting Ellie, but no matter her stubbornness, you weren’t going to let her go in – and an attack was too risky in this situation.

So you decided to sneak in. To distract and draw the kidnappers’ attention long enough for you to get Joel out.  It was still stupidly risky, but it wasn’t like there were much more options that wouldn’t end in those guys killing all of you. The plan was that Tommy would find a vantage point and be on guard to take down any threats with his sniper rifle if you were noticed, while you go get Joel.

Ellie… Ellie didn’t take no for an answer. And as much as you hated that she tagged along on this dangerous rescue mission, you had to admit that she came prepared. Apparently some time ago Joel taught her how to make trap mines and she pitched the idea of planting some up the mountain to create an avalanche.

Well, you and Tommy were both very much against setting off a full-blown avalanche, but it wasn’t a bad idea per se. So it was agreed that Tommy will help her set the bombs in some strategic places while you wait for a signal to go in.

The sneaking in part was surprisingly easy. The people staying there didn’t leave any guards outside, probably because they didn’t expect that someone would actually look for them in this weather, and it seemed that there weren’t that many of them inside like you feared. You had a vague idea where Joel might be, based on the positioning of the people present, so you reckoned it’ll be the wisest to wait nearby.

It took about an hour of hiding in one of the empty rooms (you had to change your hiding spot once, because someone decided to randomly sweep the perimeter) before you heard distant explosions and panicked, angry yells, and then a rumble of the mountain. You suspected a fair amount of snow was falling down the slope, and you prayed that Ellie and Tommy were in a safe place when that happened.

You heard the sound of footsteps getting further away. Then more of it. It was eerily silent, and you counted to ten in your head, before slowly exiting your hiding spot.

Just as you suspected, Joel was held in the lobby, tied to one of the decorative columns, and even though his back was to you, you’d recognize him anywhere, even by hands or the back of his head alone. A quick glance around the room confirmed that there was no one around, but still you preferred to stay on guard. You silently tip-toed to where he was sitting on the floor, mindful of all the debris scattered on the floor and keeping your head low, and breathed a sigh of relief when you finally reached him.

“Don’t move,” you whispered, barely moving your lips. Your fingers touched his wrist and he budged slightly. You angled your face closer to the left side of his head, hoping he’ll hear you better this way. “It’s me, Joel. I’m gonna get these off you, okay?”

Not waiting for the reply, you took out your knife and started to cut the thick, coarse rope binding Joel’s wrists. You winced at the burns underneath, but you managed not to cut him, which was a feat with how tight the ropes were. He was very still, probably not wanting to handicap you.

“Okay,” you whispered when the last of the thick strands were cut through, and you carefully slid the remnants of the rope from his wrists. “Now follow me, Tommy is…”

Your voice died down when Joel’s arms loosely slumped down, along with his head, and a second later his torso started tilting to the side before heavily hitting the ground.

Your heart stopped in your chest.

“No.” The whispered word escaped you when you hurried around him, now not caring about staying hidden. “No, no, no, please…”

You rolled Joel onto his back and only now saw the damage done to him – his nose broken, face covered in blood, a gash under his left ear, and a still bleeding gunshot wound in his arm. He didn’t look dead, didn’t have that lifeless emptiness around him, but his eyes were closed and his chest was still. You put your ear to his mouth, desperate to feel his breath on your skin, but…

No, it can’t be, it can’t…

You couldn’t feel anything.

“Joel,” you said quietly, taking his face between your hands, but tears were blurring your vision. “Come on, please open your eyes.” A choked sob broke out of your throat and you shook your head when he still didn’t even as much as stir. “Love, please…”

That’s when your eyes landed on a small, glass vial lying discarded some feet away. You looked from it to Joel, tears clouding your vision, and scrambled forward to check it out.

As you suspected, the syringe – because that’s what it turned out to be – had the traces of a thick, translucent liquid in it left. There wasn’t any writing on it, but the glass was clean, unlike various other bottles and wrappings scattered throughout the facility. You stared at it for a couple of seconds, then fixed your gaze on Joel again.

Just as the sound of footsteps started to echo down the hall.

You froze and strained your ears to make sure you didn’t imagine it, then took a look around the room. The doors were slightly ajar, but whoever was coming here, they couldn’t see you just yet. Panic seized your insides and you turned to Joel again.

“Sweetheart, please wake up,” you whispered pleadingly, shaking his shoulders and slapping his cheek lightly. “Come on, look at me, open your eyes…"

The steps were getting louder by the second. You tore the glove off your hand with your teeth and tried to very quickly check Joel’s pulse, but either in your panic you couldn’t find it, or the heartbeat was too slow for you to pick up.

You didn’t consider any other option.

There wasn’t much time left, so finally you left him and quietly went to hide behind the door, waiting for the incomer to walk in. Your hand reached for the gun on your belt.

And paused.

There couldn’t be any other option… right? Joel was alive, you just failed to find his pulse. He…

He was lying, still in the place you left him, and you couldn’t see his chest moving. The blood was flowing from the wound in his arm, staining his jacket and the floor… Your hand, the one holding the pistol, was covered in it, too…

Then you did something you never expected of yourself.

The gun stayed in its holster, and you went to grab from the ground one of the heavier pieces of debris you noticed before, a long metal pipe. Your hands tightened on the metal, and your eyes stayed on Joel’s lifeless form. You took a stifled, nervous breath. Then a deep, steadying one.

The person in the hall was really close now. Joel still didn’t appear to be moving or breathing, and it made your own chest feel tight and painful.

He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t.

But if they did this, if… if he won’t ever open his beautiful brown eyes again, say your name in that entricing raspy drawl…

The doors to your right opened and your face twisted in rage and resentment. Your muscles tensed and focus sharpened.

The man who walked through the door made a noise of surprise at the sight of Joel lying on the floor – and that inhaling sound, that maddening noise seemed to taunt you, because how dared he breathe when Joel’s own breath was stolen from him, when you weren’t sure if it was still there – right before you stepped forward and swung the pipe with all your might.

The man – dark skin, with short hair – fell down with a loud cry when the harsh metal hit him right in the temple. Your eyes scanned his figure for a weapon, and you hit him again, this time somewhere near his stomach, when he made a move to reach for his knife.

“What did you give him?!” you asked with malice and venom that were so alien to you, you almost didn’t recognize your voice. The man’s eyes focused on you for the first time when you kicked his blade away, and his confusion turned to anger.

“Crazy bitch!” he spat, heaving for air, and lunged at you, but the open wound in his skull must’ve slowed him down, because without any problem you managed to raise your makeshift weapon before he could grab you.

Since you met him so many years ago, you always had Joel to watch your back. Now you were alone, but somehow that thought didn’t scare you. It exhilarated you.

An unpleasant, hair-rising crack echoed in the room, followed by the stranger’s scream, when the heavy metal smashed the bones in the forearm.

“I asked… a simple, fucking, question!” you snarled at the man, bringing the pipe down again, aiming for his hand this time. He moved it away at the last second, which enraged you even more, so with a mad, frustrated scream, you smashed his knee, using the pipe’s momentum when it bounced off the floor. “What the fuck did you do to him?!!”

He screamed, loudly and terribly, cursing at you with every shaky breath he took, and–

You felt so unlike you, so… out of your skin, somehow… but you wanted to make him suffer. You wanted to know this inhuman cry of pain that was reverberating through the walls of the resort was your doing and your power over this bastard. Because of what they did to Joel.

Then a loud bang rang out in the air, and you instinctively ducked your head when a part of the door to your side was shot off. You dropped the pipe – no use for it now – and drew your gun, noticing with surprise that your heart was steady and your breath even, as if you didn’t almost get shot just now.

Another bullet was sent in your direction, and a woman’s voice yelled something inaudible, while you stood still and counted the seconds.

Three, two…

In a rapid movement, you came out of cover and aimed at the person standing in the hall, firing twice. The first bullet hit the woman in the arm while the second seemed to burrow itself in her stomach. She fell backwards with a curt cry, and the man lying at your feet roared with rage.

“No! You fucking bitch, leave her alone!!”

Your motions were almost automatic as you put your gun away and picked up the metal pipe again, its end splattered with blood. The man in front of you had to see something in your eyes – despair? emptiness? hatred? – because his face fell and he started quietly begging for you to stop and let him go. At least that’s what you assumed he was saying, because you didn’t listen to him one bit.

“Do not…” you started, unexpectedly calmly, bringing the end of the blunt weapon down. The impact caused his shinbone to break, and you lingered for just a moment to hear the bitter cracks of the shattered bones, “fucking… go anywhere. Don’t you dare move, hear me?”

The man didn’t answer, just cursed and wept in pain. The sound was horrible, but you almost didn’t notice it – or more accurately, didn’t care. Which would be even more concerning if you weren’t aware of the woman lying injured in the hall behind the door, and Joel, still unmoving and cold to the touch on the other side of the room.

Slowly, not hearing the black man’s cries or distant gunshots from where Tommy probably was taking down the enemies, and not caring about the blood of a stranger covering your jacket and pants, you dropped the pipe and took out your gun again. Then you made your way down the corridor, your eyes locked on the woman who shot at you.

She was groaning in pain, clutching at her stomach. When she noticed you, her hand reached for the pistol which lay discarded next to her, but you quickly lifted your own and aimed at her before she touched it.

“Don’t move,” you murmured, which would sound almost soft if it weren’t for the empty look in your eyes. The woman scanned you up and down, and slowly lifted her hands.

“Who are you?”

“What did you give him?” you asked like you didn’t hear her, coming closer to kick away her gun to the far end of the hall. The woman’s eyes followed the weapon, then shifted to you.

“Do you even know what that man did? What is he guilty of?”

“I know. Now answer the damn question. What did you give–”

The door on your left slammed open and you only had time to turn your head before a heavy body collided with you, pushing you to the wall. Your head hit the bricks with an echoing crack, knocking the breath out of you. A man who surprised you grabbed the material of your jacket and slammed you into the wall again, but you managed to grab his hair and yank it hard, which allowed you to step to the side and away from the point of disadvantage that being trapped against the wall was.

The man – taller than you, with a black eye and without one of the front teeth – was quick to recover, however, and catched the wrist of your hand that held the gun, pushing it to the side when you pulled the trigger. From the corner of your eye you could see the woman you shot curling up and covering her head, then trying to scamper away, but the wound in her stomach was a significant impediment.

You fired again, trying to wrestle the gun from the man, but his grip was strong and after a few seconds of struggle he managed to knock the weapon out of your grasp, sending it flying to where you kicked off the woman’s one earlier.

Not sooner than your hands were empty, his elbow collided with your face, hard, and you cried when a gush of blood started pouring from the broken nose and a cut on your lip. Fear washed over you, and sheer luck caused you to duck to the side in time, avoiding a fist to the temple.

You stumbled backwards a few unstable steps, breathing heavily. The guy was smirking, acting like he already won – but you weren’t about to die in this sleazy, stinky place, leaving Ellie all alone and never knowing why they abducted Joel in the first place.

Joel…

“You’ve made a huge mistake,” said the man quietly, taking one, then two steps forward and swinging again. You backed away a second time, feeling your heart pounding in panic and knowing you didn’t stand a chance against a man of his stature.

Finally your luck ran out, and the man managed to hit you in the jaw, making you taste blood on your tongue. Before you could recover, one of his hands shot forward and grabbed you by the throat, and then, still keeping his big hand on your neck, he brought your entire torso down, slamming you to the ground. You hit your head hard and the glass shards on the floor embedded themselves in your skin, but in the next moment the sound of your painful scream was cut short. The grip the man had on your throat tightened, and you started to have difficulty breathing.

Your eyes budged in fear as realization of what was happening dawned on you, and you started to kick and struggle wildly, reaching for your attacker’s face, but he moved out of reach, still putting his whole weight down on you.

Your fists were hitting his forearms, your nails scratching his cheeks, whatever to make him let go. But he didn’t, his hands still squeezing your throat so strongly and crushing your esophagus.

“After I kill you, I’ll go kill your friend,” your attacker snickered, smiling viciously as he watched ice-cold panic enveloping you. “He’s not worthy of keeping him alive that long, anyway.”

Something ignited inside you at his words.

Joel.

You suddenly remembered the many self-defense lessons Joel had given you, so that whenever he wasn’t there to protect you, you could do it yourself. He was always so afraid for your life…

Slowly and with great effort, your fingers crept down, searching for the handle of your hunting knife, while dark spots started to appear before your vision, partially covering the sneering face of the man crushing your windpipe. He said something else – something you didn’t even hear because of the ringing in your ears…

And then with the last bit of your strength, you yanked the knife out of its sheath and buried the blade in the side of his neck.

Several things happened simultaneously: the man cried in surprise and let you go, the woman shouted a warning – too late – and you swung your leg over him, straddling and stabbing the man over and over again. His neck, his chest, his face, you didn’t even see what you were hitting. Screaming your lungs out and burying the blade in him again, and again, and again.

And again.

With an outraged, desperate cry, the woman lunged at you, but the adrenaline coursing through your system made you not even register something cutting deeply the skin of your arm, your veins and muscles giving way. You spun around, tumbling with her to the ground, but quickly managed to pin her down, blocking her arms in place with your knees, and pressing the tip of your knife to her chest.

She immediately stopped moving.

“Last fucking chance,” you croaked with difficulty, your neck bruised and swollen. “What… did you give him?”

You didn’t know if it was the sight of you, bloodied and wounded, the fact that you just violently killed her friend, or something else entirely – but now the woman looked scared.

“Okay,” she whispered, trying not to breathe too deeply, and glanced nervously at the blade pressed against her skin. “Okay, I’ll tell you, just don’t… It was a tranquilizer. Nothing dangerous, we just put him to sleep for a couple of hours. He was putting up quite a fight and the guys were getting antsy that he’ll pull something off before–”

“He’s not breathing,” you rasped viciously, sputtering blood onto her face. The woman flinched and took a shaky breath.

“His heart rate is slowed down, but it doesn’t– it shouldn’t kill him.”

You clenched your teeth, then exhaled. Inhaled.

You have to take a grip of yourself. He is alive. He has to be…

Should be.

The weight with which you had pinned her to the ground became lighter, and the woman sighed with relief when you removed the sharp end from her chest.

“It shouldn’t… kill him?” you repeated emptily, trying to dismiss the pain in your throat when you were speaking.

“No.”

Your head was still buzzing, but you tried to push it to the side, to focus on what was important right now.

“Why… did you take him?”

And just with that one, quiet question, the woman’s expression changed. You were considering letting her go, since you already hurt her pretty badly, but the sudden shift in her behavior set off alarm bells in your head once more.

“He’s a murderer,” the woman said, as if it was the most obvious answer. “A monster that would do everyone a favor if he got put down.”

White, blinding fury flooded your veins and it felt almost as if electricity was cracking above your skin. Your hand held the knife tighter.

‘Put down’, like… like an animal. She was talking about the man you loved–

You weren’t able to stop the hatred and rage flowing out of every pore of your skin. In one swift motion you plunged the knife into the woman’s chest, making her choke and gasp in surprise.

“You cannot call him that,” you spluttered, barely able to speak from the pain. “You…”

And then your hand forced its way lower down, still holding the handle of your weapon. Cutting through the woman’s – now struggling and screaming in agony – abdomen and guts.

They went so far as to abduct Joel, they took him from you, hurt and shot him, wanted to torture him, to make him suffer before they ultimately kill him…

But they didn’t, he can’t be dead, he can’t–

The woman was conscious the entire time as you were ripping her insides apart, and her screams died down only after you reached the navel.

Your vision was blurry and faltering when you stood up, but your heart was still beating steadily. There was an echo of a scream in your ears, though you couldn’t tell if it was your or the dead woman’s voice.

There wasn’t anyone else in the hallway. In the back of your mind you hoped that Tommy took care of any remaining enemies, because if they’d come running here, you didn’t think you’d be able to hear them in time.

Clutching your injured arm, you slowly made your way to the room where you left Joel and the man who attacked you first. Your gun was lying near the entrance and you picked it up before pushing the door open and staggering inside.

The man wasn’t where you left him. Instead there was a big pool of blood, forming into a wide, smeared path leading further into the lobby. At the end of it you saw him, groaning and crawling to the exit.

You reloaded the gun and walked closer. At the sound, the man turned his head and his eyes widened when he saw you.

“You fucking psycho!” he spat, bracing himself on the elbow of his left arm – the only one still working. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?! When she sees it, they’ll come for you, and they’ll make sure that the two of you will fucking pay for it!”

His words were flowing through you as you struggled to keep your vision focused. You felt weird – almost like waking up way too early and finding your body not listening to you entirely.

Then you realized. The hungry, burning anger was gone, the embers of hatred slowly dying out. There was only smoke and emptiness left inside you.

“I don’t care,” you mumbled, not loud enough for the man to hear you, but that didn’t matter – two seconds later he was dead, his brain splattered all over the floor behind him.

Your hand was shaking. Cold crept up your limbs, embracing and almost choking you as you breathed in, out, faster and faster as you finally comprehended what you did.

Your eyes moved down to the man’s indented knee, completely smashed into a bloody mess. The other limb was all wrong, his foot sticking in the opposite direction and no wonder he had to crawl to get away from you, you destroyed his legs, you…

You staggered backwards, your pupils darting to the hallway just for a second before returning to the battered corpse in front of you. The back of his skull was gone now, but how did he stay conscious for so long after you smashed his head with a metal pipe? There was so much blood on it… How much pain he must have felt after you left him?

And that woman… He begged you to leave her alone, and you… you ripped her open…

You moved back, back and further away, before tripping and falling to the floor. Your breaths were fast and shallow, and you reached for your neck, sore and swollen from almost being strangled, trying to will your lungs to work.

They were bad people. They took and hurt Joel, and planned to kill him. You had to kill them, they’d kill you in a heartbeat, they…

It wasn’t like you’ve never taken a life before, but it was the first time that you inflicted pain on somebody on purpose – not in self-defense, but because you wanted to retaliate. It was done in revenge.

You didn’t know for how long you had sat there when you heard someone saying your name. It sounded like… No, it couldn’t have been his voice, he was unconscious, he wasn’t breathing…

Suddenly, Tommy’s face appeared in your blurry field of vision – of course it was him, their voices were so similar, after all – and there was a deep crease between his brows. He looked worried and fearful, and–

“Snap out of it,” he said firmly, shaking your shoulders harder than he should have. Your name fell from his lips when you didn’t answer, and his eyes followed yours to a battered body on the floor. “Look at me. Look at me.” Tommy forcefully turned your chin in his direction, and his eyes were full of sorrow and pain. “You did what you had to do.”

You shook your head, swallowing the tears that streamed down your face. He didn’t know what you did. He didn’t understand what happened here, what happened with you… You yourself didn’t know what happened to you.

Tommy brought you closer to his chest, enveloping you in his strong embrace and the smell of leather and gunpowder. You choked on air, unable to stop the sobs racking your body, and deaf to his words, for the only thing you could hear were cracks of bones, screams of pain, and your own vengeful cries.

It was so loud in your mind that you almost missed a quiet grunt coming from behind you.

*****

Joel slowly opened his eye, then groaned and closed it again. He felt like shit and it was so hard to breathe, but he pushed through the pain and discomfort from the wound in his side, and tried again.

The first thing he saw was the greenish curtain, hiding the rest of the room from him, but judging by the fact that he was lying in bed, alive, with apparently all his wounds dressed, he figured it wasn’t the same place that group of angry youngsters took him to.

Lifting his head and turning it to the other side was a tremendous task, but it was so worth it – because there was you. Sitting in a chair next to him, asleep and with your head lying on folded arms on his bed. Joel smiled softly, but then furrowed his brows as a pang of anxiety shot right through him.

Your face was a mess, with cuts and bruises healing, your brow was split, and one of your forearms had a bandage wrapped around it, now a little dirty around the edges. Joel couldn’t see clearly, but your neck seemed… dark, as if the skin was bruised there, too.

What the hell happened?

He lifted his arm – the tingles and needles pierced his stiff limb – and brushed your cheek lightly, trying to wake you.

“Darlin’...” he murmured, and you stirred. He tried to say it again, louder this time, but his throat was scratchy and he winced at the feeling. There was no need for it, however, because in the next moment your eyes fluttered open and then widened when you took in the sight of him, realizing he’s awake.

“Joel!” Your hands – God, he missed the feeling of them – cupped his face gently, and your eyes filled with tears in the matter of seconds. “Oh my god, baby…”

“Hey, hey, I’m fine,” he breathed out quickly, not wanting to see you cry. “It’s okay, darlin’... I’m here.”

You sobbed with a dazzling smile, your beautiful eyes dancing across his features before you darted forward and pressed your lips to his firmly. Joel could almost taste the desperation and worry in your shaky breaths and tears that fell from your eyes and onto his tongue. He wanted to tangle his fingers in your hair and bring you in closer, but a sudden, sharp pain pierced his arm when he tried to move it, and he hissed into your mouth.

“Sorry,” you whispered and moved away quickly, letting out a broken laugh and brushing the unruly strands of hair away from his forehead. “I’m just so happy you’re okay.”

Joel wanted to ask what exactly had happened while he was out, but before he got a chance, you leaned in again and started softly peppering his face in kisses – first his cheek, then his forehead, then the tip of his nose and his chin. And Joel didn’t have the heart to stop you.

And that’s how Ellie found you both. She gagged when she saw the display of affection, but there was a grin on her face when he looked over at her.

“Gross,” she scrunched her nose. “But I’m glad to see you awake.”

“Yeah, well, I still feel pretty shitty,” he grunted, scanning the kid for any injuries, but she didn’t look any worse for the wear. His eyes strayed to your neck again, and the concern came back double-barreled. “What happened to you, sweetheart? Where–”

“I’ll… go get the doctor.” You stood up abruptly before he could finish, and looked over at Ellie. “Will you stay with him?”

“Yeah. Sure.” The teen shrugged, but now was avoiding Joel’s eyes, and he felt more uneasy and agitated by the second.

“Okay. Be right back, love. Gonna grab you some water, too.” You squeezed his hand and smiled. Joel’s eyes escorted you, and when he made sure you were out of the earshot, he turned to Ellie.

“What happened?”

“Well.” The teen blew out her cheeks and went to take a seat you previously occupied. “You were attacked during the patrol…”

“Yeah, no, that I remember,” Joel interrupted quietly. “They shot me, took me to that ski resort. But how am I here? Did she…”

He trailed off. Ellie looked at the curtain you disappeared behind, then back at Joel. “Listen, I wasn’t there, so m’not sure,” she mumbled quietly. “But after she and Tommy got you out, she was sorta… different.”

“Different how?” he asked sharply. Ellie bit the inside of her cheek, looking away. “Ellie.”

“I don’t know, okay?” she answered in a sudden burst. “She looked like hell. You saw her neck, I think someone tried to choke her, and she had an ugly cut on her leg, a fuckton of cuts and bruises… And the doctor spent hours getting all the glass shards out of her.”

Joel got up as much as he could, feeling a pit of anxiety rising in his chest. Ellie was silent for a while before she spoke again, this time surprisingly softly.

“Remember when you beat the shit out of that soldier when we were escaping QZ in Boston?” Joel nodded slightly – she did, too. “Yeah. She had a similar… kind of look on her face, and it looked… not exactly scary, but alien.” The teen looked up. “My guess is she did some fucked up shit to get to you. Tommy said she’s been having real bad nightmares since then, but he doesn’t want to tell me–”

Ellie snapped her mouth shut at the sound of footsteps, and a few seconds later you emerged from behind the curtain. You had a tall glass of water in your hand and a small, hopeful smile that grew when your eyes fell on Joel’s face.

“I know you’d probably prefer something stronger, but water will do you good,” you said, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they were just talking about you. Joel watched as you carefully sat down at the edge of his bed and put down the glass onto the table to his side. “One of the nurses will come here in a couple of minutes. You were unconscious for a couple of days so they want to make sure everything is okay.”

“I told you I’m fine, darlin’...”

“Please.” You gently took his hand in both of yours, staring at him with concern. “For me?”

Joel looked you over, his eyes lingering on your bruised neck and the bandage around your thigh which he didn’t notice before. Then he glanced at Ellie with worry, not knowing how to approach this problem or ask what exactly happened to you.

Your eyes were a little red and puffy, and he briefly thought about what the kid said: that you have had terrible nightmares, that apparently you went through some sort of hell to save him. It seemed that whatever you had done, it took its heavy toll on you. And he couldn’t bear it.

Joel hated the thought of you risking your life for him, of the experience branding you so deeply that you lost sleep because of it.

Because of him.

The only thing he could do right now was to be there for you. And maybe – just maybe, if he tried hard enough – to do something about those of your scars that he couldn’t see.

He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it, keeping his eyes on yours the entire time.

“Okay,” came his soft answer, to which you smiled with relief. “Whatever you wish, darlin’.”

No snarky remark, no groaning or muttering could be heard from Ellie, and that worried Joel much more than he’d ever admit. He exchanged a worried look with her while you were distracted, drawing patterns on the back of his hand with tender fingers.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he heard you say quietly, though it was unclear whether you were talking to him or yourself.

Either way, Joel squeezed your hand tighter, now feeling oddly afraid of letting go.

“Yes, darlin’,” he confirmed in a soothing manner. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

[pxtched]

ok so this head has been rotting in my head and i think its time to let it free.

so pirate!miguel stumbles on siren!reader's territory by accident bc his ship got wrecked and he was sorta the only left of his crew (u can change that if u want ofc) and siren!reader saves him cus she wants to know if any other man is gonna come so she can prepare herself for a future attack. he wakes up by mouth to mouth but he doesnt realise until siren!reader herself says something about it. the rest you can decide.

i love ur fics sm! stay hydrated!<33

𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞

╰ Pirate!miguel x Fem!siren!reader.

╰ angst, death, slowly gaining trust then immediate betrayal, (not really…)

AN: this is so short I’m SO SORRY, thank you for letting it free!! Thank you for requesting and hope this is to your liking!

Miguel ohara.

That was a name that was well known, feared, and one of the strongest captains and have one of the most strongest crew in the sea. Get attacked by him? You’re dead, you aren’t making it out alive.

He’s listening to his crew mate talks about sirens, saying how they are worth a lot and they should go hunting for one! Miguel instantly rejected the idea, saying it’s a waste of time.

Miguel never really believed in sirens, he thought it was some tale to scare kids and to make pirates like him search endlessly for them.

“Awh c’mon!” “No Peter, It’s just a waste of time and resources.” “You are like probably the only captain that dosent believe in sirens” “Because I’m not stupid.”

He remembers helping another crew hunt a siren but never even saw it, nor heard it. Miguel scoffed at the fact he wasted his time helping someone hunt for something that probably wasn’t even real.

But now? He believes, he saw one. He even looked at one. Talked to one.

Miguel felt like he had a fever dream, he doesn’t know how to put it into words that what happened in that day was real and not some random dream.

He’s not even on his ship anymore, not his crew, just some random people. He dosent know what happened to his crew mates but just assumed the worst.

It happened so suddenly, He was sailing on the ocean on his ship with his crew mates. Laughing and just having fun. When he least expected it, the tides got rough, the waves got higher and it was stormy too.

The last thing he saw before passing out was a massive wave, All he remembers is feeling the impact and then black.

His ship wrecked god knows where, His crew mates most likely dead sinking down in the same ocean but different area than Miguel. Miguel was drowning alone.

Until you saw him, You noticed him sinking down. Your first thought was free food but then you realized who he is. He’s a pirate. The same ones who try’s to hunt your kind. You scowl at this discovery but you soon realized he’s alone, his ship is gone too.

You could get information if there’s any attacks coming, their weaknesses and then kill him.

So, you save him. Grabbing his body, stopping him from dying and throwing him on the shore. you look at his body, you recognize that symbol that’s on his chest...your eyes widened, you grit your teeth as the grip on him tightened.

This was the Captain that helped that crew hunt your kind. Yeah, you are going to kill this man afterwards.

You give him CPR, isn’t working. So you give him mouth to mouth. Soon enough he’s awake sitting up immediately, coughing up some water. He looks at you, looks around. He’s at some random island as some lady saved him.

“What do you want from me? Is there anyone else coming? Is there going to be future attacks I don’t know about?” You immediately question him.

He looks at you once again in confusion and opens his mouth to answer but his mouth closed then his jaw went slack as his eyes widened in horror as he realizes that you aren’t a human but a siren.

He frantically searches for his cutlass but you hold it in front of him “looking for this?” You say as you toss it in the water. He looks at it sink I the water then looks back at you in fear but regain his composure.

“I don’t mean any harm, I didn’t even know—“ you scoffed, not believing his words “Oh cut the bullshit, answer my questions now.” You demanded him.

You get closer to him narrowing your eyes at him as he backs up “Is there going to be any men attacking me? Is there going to be people trying to hunt me down?” You questioned him once again.

“I’m being truthful, I don’t know. I didn’t hear anything about people looking for you. I don’t mean harm, You can see that my crew mates are not here most likely dead. My ship is wrecked. So please trust me.” He pleads, you glare at him and backed off.

“Why would i ever believe a pirate Like you?” You sneered at him, and he sighed “Please, I’m alone. You have my word.” He pleads once again. You look at him trying to see if he’s trying to trick you but you don’t see any malice in his eyes.

You decided to trust him, you felt bad for him. And you especially know how it is to be alone so, you just nodded and point your head to the island “There’s some food there, You Can stay” you tell him and you swam away in the water.

He smiled and began to explore the island, trying to see what he can work with for the time being. He can deal with this, He is a bit shaken up that he just talked to a siren.

As time went by, you guys respected your guys space. Staying away from eachother…which was actually you avoiding him because you still hated him.

But after a couple of days, you talked to him more. Making short and awkward small talks but it’s something!

Now Miguel sits at the shore, looking at the water as he searches for you. He notices your eyes staring at him back and he’s a bit startled but he offers his hand to you, you swim up to him and take his hand.

“Yes?” You say, tilting your head. He smiled at you and puts an apple in your hand “Here, I don’t really know what you eat and i don’t want you to still hate me” you eyes widened at his kindness.

You couldn’t help but chuckle a bit “you don’t do your research?” You say as you take a bite of the apple, usually you’ll just eat whatever is in the sea or sailors but sometimes an apple wouldn’t hurt.

He shakes his head “No, I don’t focus on stuff like that. I just focus on where I’m going, why, and the safety.” He admits honestly, you raise and eyebrow at him being a bit skeptical of him.

“You were there helping another pirate hunt my kind” you pointed out and he sighed “you think I wanted too? It was a waste of my time and my resources. Even after that I didn’t believe”

You smile. Maybe he isn’t half bad “Realized I never got your name, What is your name?” You asked him.

He smiles, knowing he’s getting on good terms with you “Miguel, Miguel ohara” and he offered you a handshake, you give him a handshake.

“you aren’t that bad Miguel, I thought you were going to kill me or send men my way” you joked and he shakes his head.

“I wouldn’t either way, why would i crash my ship risk my teammates life and my own! just for a chance to get you?” He asks and you thought about it. Huh, he was right. “Dunno, people are desperate.” You shrugged and he laughed.

“True, true. I see pirates fight all the time and I don’t get why!” He says while eating some berrys, You didn’t even notice but he was halfway in the water. “So, how’s the pirate life been?” You asked him.

“It’s…Something alright, it’s always shocking something. Everyday is an adventure and I…had my crew mates with me, it was fun and I miss it. I miss their laughter, and…everything.” he tells you. His shoulders dropped as he has a frown on his face.

You feel bad for him, you understand how that feels to be left alone. To miss home, to miss everyone and everything.

You put a hand on his shoulder and then loved it up to his cheek for him to look at you.

“Hey, It’s okay. I understand where your coming from. Trust me, I know how it feels to be alone. I didn’t live here always, I was with my family, my friends but then…they came. I seen all of my family die in front of my eyes.” You looked away, You didn’t like going back to this memory but you told him anyways.

“I tried to stop them but 3 ships was there. I couldn’t do anything, so I swam away as fast as I can. And that’s how I got here” you confessed to him.

It was silence for a few moments but then he apologized “I’m sorry that happened, but hey! You got me now” he says with a smile, picking the mood back up. you laughed, You Can Finally trust him.

But that thought quickly goes away, you hear the familiar sounds of a pirate ship. Your smile dropped. There was multiple, he lied to you.

His eyes widened in horror as your widened as well. You back away from him, looking at him with disgust and betrayal. You turn around to the ships and you noticed that they are aiming their pistols at you, their cannons as well.

He desperately pleads that he didn’t do this, that he didn’t know but you glared at him. You’re in disbelief that you actually gave him the benefit of the doubt and trust him.

As much as you want to attack him, You safety matters first. So you swim away deep in the water as Miguel watches, as he hears his name being called from the people above.

A/N2: im so sorry this took so long