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honnelander · 8 months

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go fish!

so i fell in love with Sanji just like everyone else. i've never seen the one piece anime or read the manga so i'm solely going off of the live action. i had fun writing this and plan to make this a series of some sorts where it's a fem!reader x Sanji moments of awkwardness, fluff, and mutual pining because i love reading that stuff myself. if anyone has any suggestions or requests for this series please leave a comment or send me an ask!

WARNINGS: none

word count: 1.3k

pairing: opla!sanji x reader

summary: reader and Usopp are playing a card game when Sanji finds them. teasing ensues.

prequel part 2 part 3 part 4 masterlist

“Care for a refreshment, Madam?” a smooth, deep familiar voice asked to your left, breaking your concentration on the card game in front of you.

“Hm?” you looked up from the cards in your hand and saw the Going Merry’s own chef looking down at you with a crooked, charming smile as he held a chilled glass bottle of water in his hand. “Oh, hey Sanji,” you greeted quickly with your usual smile as you looked back down at your hand. “What’d you say? Go fish Usopp.”

Your opponent across the barrel from you grumbled as he took the top card off the deck sitting between you both.

“I was just asking if the lovely madam sitting here would like a nice, cold refreshment on this particularly hot day?” Sanji asked again with a hint of amusement, his crooked smile deepening as he watched you study your hand once again.

“’Lovely madam’?” Usopp repeated sarcastically, his eyebrows pulling together. “What about offering her super buff, brave, and heroic opponent an ice-cold beverage instead?”

“Nope,” Sanji corrected, popping the 'p'. “Ladies first Usopp. Always.”

Even after knowing Sanji for a couple of months now, his consistent chivalry always managed to make your heart flutter.

You laughed lightly and couldn’t help but smirk as you said with a matter-of-fact, teasing tone, “Just say you wish you were a girl, Usopp. No judgment here.” You paused for a moment before asking, “You got the five of spades?”

“Now even though I would make an extremely attractive, gorgeous woman, I am a man through and through.” A grin broke out on Usopp’s face as he glanced at his hand and triumphantly called out, “Go fish, y/n.”

“Fair enough,” you hummed as you reached for a card. “And yes Sanji, I would love a glass of cold water. Thank you.” You shot a quick look of gratitude the chef’s way as you took a card from the deck.

Sanji placed the two glasses onto your makeshift barrell-table top he was holding in his left hand and started filling up the glasses with water. “Of course. Anything for the missus.”

Missus. Ugh. It made your heart skip a beat to hear him call you that. But you knew he didn’t really mean anything by it. It was just how Sanji spoke, forever the gentleman.

“Oof. If you keep sweet talking like that Sanji, you’re going to even make me blush, just like y/n,” Usopp joked.

Your eyes widened as your eyes snapped to look at your dumbass crewmate and friend sitting across from you. “I- I am not blushing Usopp!” God, if you both were using a real table instead of a barrel right now you would’ve broken his shine with your foot. You really weren’t blushing before but Usopp’s stupid comment definitely made your cheeks heat up now. “It’s the heat,” you hissed.

“’Heat’,” he mocked with air quotes and snorted. “Right.”

“I-” before you could defend yourself, Sanji spoke up.

“Actually,” the blonde chef chimed in with a light laugh as he filled the second glass, “that’s why I came over in the first place. You were looking a little flushed y/n, so I thought you guys could use a cold drink.”

Sanji’s words caused both you and Usopp to look up from your cards simultaneously, making eye contact with each other. A mischievous grin started to form on Usopp’s face as he saw the blush deepen on your face. You quickly looked back to your hand, suddenly finding the eight of clovers card extremely interesting.

Sanji saw you looking flushed? He saw you? From across the deck? From inside the kitchen’s window? He was watching you play cards? The thought of Sanji watching you when you didn’t expect him to made your stomach erupt in butterflies, and it certainly didn’t make your stupid little crush on him go away. Just the opposite. In fact, it just fueled your delusional fantasy even more.

And it certainly didn’t help that the only person who knew about your crush on the head chef just so happened to have a big mouth and loved to tease you about it any chance he got. And that he was sitting right across from you right now, watching all of this unfold right in front of him.

“Oh? So you were watching y/n and I play cards out here?” Usopp innocently asked his blonde crewmate, but you knew better. There wasn’t an ounce of true curiosity in his tone whatsoever.

“Yeah, from the kitchen,” Sanji answered casually as he recapped the glass water bottle.

“Usopp,” you warned.

“And you said that she looked ‘flushed’?” Usopp asked, quirking a brow at the end of his question as he turned his gaze from you to Sanji.

Sanji blinked in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together for a second before looking down at his crewmate. “Yeah...” he said slowly before continuing, “Her cheeks looked a little pink so I figured-”

“Oh?” Usopp asked, his voice becoming louder. “You noticed the color of her cheeks, from that far away?”

“Usopp,” you hissed louder but it fell on deaf ears. Once your friend got on a roll, there was little anyone could do about it. Especially when it came to teasing you about your feelings for Sanji.

“Yeah,” Sanji replied to Usopp’s question with a confused smile. “What are you-”

“GO FISH!” you blurted out loudly, cutting Sanji off and having both men turn their eyes towards you.

“Huh?” Usopp blinked his eyes at you, suddenly remembering the game in front of him. “But I didn’t even ask you anything y/n. And you just drew a card, so it’s your turn to ask me.”

You let out a quiet sigh of relief at the fact that Usopp stopped grilling Sanji with all of those embarrassing questions right in front of you....even though you couldn’t help but perk up at the fact that Sanji in fact had been watching you from the kitchen, and that he was sweet enough to bring you (and Usopp) some water.

“Well, I tried,” you shrugged and lied, “but you just kept yapping so you didn’t hear me. Do you have the Queen of hearts?”

Usopp studied you for a brief moment before looking at his cards, smirking to himself. “You know y/n, it’s funny you asked about the Queen of hearts,” he said as he plucked the requested card from his hand and reached out to give it to you, “since you make heart eyes yourself whenever you look at-”

“GOOD game Usopp!” you practically yelled as you threw your cards down onto the barrel and stood up, hoping your outburst drowned out the name Usopp was about to so stupidly blurt out. You shook his free hand with both of yours as you said, “You totally win my friend.”

“What?” Sanji laughed slightly as he watched you and Usopp shake hands. The poor guy was as confused as ever. “But the game isn’t over.”

You looked Usopp dead in the eye as tightened your grip on his hand. “Oh no, it’s over. He definitely won.”

Yeah, he won alright. He won the game of making your life a living hell and embarrassing you in front of Sanji. He won the gold medal in that game.

“I sure did,” Usopp agreed triumphantly, putting his cards down.

You dropped his hand and took the glass of cold water that Sanji had so generously poured, the cold glass making you feel better already. “Thank you for this Sanji. I think I’ll go enjoy this on my hammock inside.”

You couldn’t bear to look at Sanji, feeling humiliated for no reason with your face on fire, you stepped away from the barrel sipping your water as you made your way across the deck towards the ship’s living quarters.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea y/n!” Usopp called, giddy from the high that could only come from successfully teasing a friend. “Maybe that’ll help calm down your flushed face!”

Before stepping inside, you flipped off a laughing Usopp, completely missing the brief look of disappointment in Sanji’s eyes as he watched you go.

#sanji x reader #sanji vinsmoke x reader #sanji #sanji vinsmoke #one piece #one piece live action #opla #one piece fanfiction #sanji fanfiction #fluff #opla fanfiction #i absolutely loved writing this and will write more #have this be a series of some sorts #bc who doesn't love idiots in love?#mutual pining #sanji x y/n #one piece x reader #go fish! au

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j4gm · 8 months

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SPOILERS!!! REFERENCES AND EASTER EGGS IN F&C ep. 1: FIONNA CAMPBELL

Here's a bunch of stuff I spotted. Feel free to add more.

During the anime girl hero dream Fionna mentions Hans Brinker, a character from a novel which introduced speed skating to the United States.

The BMO style alarm clock has BMO's voice.

The ducks that steal Marshall Lee's money look like one-headed versions of the two-headed duck from the original Adventure Time title sequence.

Cheers is a real sitcom. Simon previously sang its theme song in the episode Simon & Marcy, and now it seems to have manifested in the human AU due to his connection with it.

Fionna says "stop acting crazy" to Cake with the same meter as Marceline said "stop acting crazy" to Ice King in the episode I Remember You.

We all spotted this in the trailer but there's a Magic Man hat in this shot. Magic Man's hat was most recently seen being worn by Betty.

The Betty statue also suggests that Simon's psyche has significant influence over this world. The fountain includes frogs, a symbol of change that was previously also used in Temple of Mars. And Fionna mentions the statue underwent renovation twelve years ago, which is the same amount of time that's passed in the prime universe since Betty's amalgamation with GOLB.

It would seem Mrs. Abadeer runs a vacuum cleaner company as well as being Fionna's landlady. And Queenie runs an accounting business as well as the tour bus.

The stickers on Marshall Lee's guitar case are all references to real life punk rock bands. X-Ray Pex = X-Ray Spex, Daikini Kill = Bikini Kill, PM might be a reference to AM as in the Arctic Monkeys. I'm not sure what Las Crudas and Dark Eyes are references to. Perhaps someone more familiar with punk rock can let me know?

In case you were wondering, the credits confirm that this is human genderswapped Fern. It's a bit more obvious now that we can see all her green clothes and backpack, and given what she said about her dreams being super messed up. I'm not gonna go through the rest of the cameo characters in this episode because most of them are pretty obvious or already got figured out when the trailer dropped. That said, if anyone knows who the bus driver is meant to be please let me know.

The sword in the window of this games shop looks very similar to Fionna's sword from the original comic series.

The latte that Gumball - ahem I mean Gary - makes in this scene features PB's swan.

Okay one more cameo mention because I feel like it might become significant later. This is Ice Queen.

Fionna and Cake are dreaming about their apartment block in the credits of this episode, but it has a roof like the Tree Fort and the same little boat with a telescope and parasol.

Episode 2 to follow!

#adventure time #fionna and cake #easter egg posts

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hritika13-tamboli · 28 days

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Jeon Jungkook Fic Recs List 2...

Series :

Day by day @hansolmates

Summary : a series of drabbles about two best friends raising a child together

Aim for the heart @writemywaytoyourheart

Summary : Jeon Jungkook is an infamous hitman, known for his inability to fail at whatever job is thrown his way. At least, up until now. Y/n, a kind-hearted and full of life teacher, is his newest target. Jeon isn’t sure who would put a hit on this seemingly innocent girl, but fortunately, that isn’t his problem. All he has to do is pull the trigger.

Bedeviled @writemywaytoyourheart

Summary : Money. Fame. Power. Love. Health. Courage. Strength. Humans will trade their souls for anything, unaware of how their selfish desires will fade away as they do; growing feeble and pathetic, until there's nothing left but the ghost of their youth, cowering in a corner until old age disposes of it. Convincing yourself to go to the Underworld? Easy... Walking through to get something that you've waited many years for, accompanied by a demon that will stop at nothing to make sure your soul belongs to him? Maybe not so much. Making deals with the devil is a tricky business; one you might not have realized could end in something much more painful than death itself if you make a single mistake.

Animal - 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 @cutaepatootie

Summary : “I don’t want to go without telling something.” The girl frown looking at the old man “What do you mean, Mr. Jeon?” “I don’t want to die without telling someone about her,” he says, his voice softening when he says ‘her’. “I don’t want to disappear without the world knowing about her and what she did for me.” “About her?” the girl frowns. Maybe his daughter? His sister? The man turns his head and faces the girl, a soft, distant smile plastered on his lips. The gesture is nostalgic, sad, almost loving. “Y/N,” he murmurs, the name rolling off his lips softly, just as softly as the waves of the sea roll over the sand. “Her name was Y/N.”

Into the woods @junqkook

Summary : getting hurt and stumbling upon a goblin in the forest leaves you completely at his mercy, though you aren’t sure if that’s necessarily a bad thing.

One-shot :

The habits of the broken heart @softykooky

Summary : jungkook and you are soulmates. so says the matching crescent moons on both your wrists. however, things are never as easy as they seem, and you are quick to learn that falling in love with someone who does not believe in love is a one-way ticket to heartbreak. alternatively, “You still are, you know. Worth it.” You release a shaky breath. “But I was stupid to think that I am too.”

Something in the heir @hisunshiine

Summary : The king of your empire will be leaving soon to head off to fight against Soiros, a foreign enemy, and his seven knights of the order of Bangtania will lead the way. One of the seven, Jeon Jungkook, with his dark eyes and easy smile, is someone you long for. Children believe he has slain dragons, and adults think he’s killed over one thousand Soirian soldiers. Everyone thinks he is a heartbreaker, making his way through every unwed wench in the land...but all he wants is you.

Miracle of the season @cybrsan

Summary : Cast out of Heaven after a painful betrayal, you find yourself having to navigate the intricacies of human life without any guidance from the Creator or the family you have always known. Things only get worse as the holiday season reaches its peak, with reminders of the life you left behind everywhere you look. When a familiar face pops up, you aren’t sure whether to consider it a blessing or a curse.

Amortentia @jungkxook

Summary : jungkook loves everything strawberry but the simple pleasure is always kept hidden, stowed away as if some hideous secret to protect the rumours that had built up around him — until a love potion outs him.

Black magic @hansolmates

Summary : a witch with an ambition for learning, you stumble across a crushing spell in the middle of the forbidden section. of course you have to try it out! what happens when the crushing spell not only has jeon jungkook crushing on you, but you crushing on him?

(Un)crushed @hansolmates

Summary : you’ve liked jungkook for the longest time, but you believe it’s time to cut the cord—literally

What's wrong? @oddinary4bts

Summary : Reader overhears Jungkook talk to his friends and mention how she’s always clinging on to him and doesn’t let him breathe sometimes and that she’s annoying because she’s too loud and energetic. When he comes back home she acts the complete opposite and tries to avoid him without letting him know what’s going on, until he realises that he actually prefers her clingy and loud🥺

High demand @bunnyhugs77

Summary : modern day Romeo and Juliet

Coin toss @yoondoze

Summary : you and jeongguk go way back, even before you were the menacing duo many knew you to be, even before he brought you into the mafia and left you there to join the city’s detective agency. a call for cooperation comes out of a common enemy, requiring the two of you to reconcile for one last mission.

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plutoswritingplanet · 1 month

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It's A Special Death You Saved (Feyd Rautha x Female!Reader) pt.4 (final)

a/n: we did it Joe! this chapter officially marks the first ever series i've completed lmao. thank you for all the support on this fic, every like, every comment, every out-of-pocket anon ask.

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content (like...fr this time), Blood and Violence, Manipulation.

Summary: After the wedding, Husband and Wife work out the intricate web of their relationship.

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3

Gurney looks at you as if you're already dead.

You hide from his gaze, ducking behind pillars, whenever you can hear his footsteps. It's truly depressing, the way your mentor shakes his head, as if, instead of looking at you, he's looking at a coffin. You suppose he might be right, he's the one with the most experience in the Harkonnen area. He's fought them, dined with them, seen their customs through and through. And now, his dutiful little student is about to be thrown into the very same world, he has relayed to you as a nightmarish fairytale. Still, a little misplaced optimism wouldn't kill him. Or just, a sliver of hope, an inclination that you might survive this.

The day of your wedding rolls upon you like an oceanic storm, all chaos and rumbling.

Here you sit, your bones locked with nerves, as the servants pack away your things. A futile thing, you muse to yourself. It's highly doubtful the Harkonnens will let you keep any personal items back from Caladan. They'll mold you into their image, until all your hair naturally falls out. The thought would make you laugh, but here's a servant, placing your jewelry into a case, which lands in a bag, which will be transported to the Harkonnen ship by the end of the day.

Your room, the place you've spent all your life in, slowly becomes more and more barren.

The closet stands empty, so do the drawers. All your trinkets are swiftly transported away until you're left alone in your wedding dress, the only familiar thing between the hollow ribs of your life's sanctuary. Wishing you could fold the entirety of the castle, with the stables, and the horses, and the cliffs, and throw it into the final suitcase, so you can open it up in times of turmoil, and breathe in the familiar scents. You need to leave, right now. Sitting like this, wrenches a dangerous numbness out of your chest. And you can't be allowed to dissapear into yourself. You're an Atreides, you shall wear your pain with dignity, as per your Mother's wishes.

Your wedding dress swishes around you, as you stand up from your bed. It's much more classy, and less of a chiffon catastrophe, than your engagement dress, a welcome change. The veil is embroidered with light crystals and metal plating. It falls heavily over your face, and jingles when you move. By all intents and purposes, it is a dream dress. A dress you'd like to wear for a wedding of your own, a wedding with some dashing gentleman. A gentleman, which in your most private of dreams, has the face of Duncan Idaho, with silver rings braided into his hair.

Instead, you're left with this monster, so alien and cold. A beast at the center of the maze.

The bull looks at you from the wall. Its horns, smeared with your Grandfather's blood, curl grotesquely into the ceiling. The head is mounted above the doors to the library, a grim reminder of his spectacular death. As a child, you'd spend hours, standing right here, at the entrance, staring at the animal's head. You've always wondered, whether it were the lights playing tricks on your mind, or you saw a shadow of pride in the bull's eyes.

Did it know who was its victim? The leader of one of the most important Houses in all known universe laid dead at its feet. Did it know what sort of spectacle it produced? What destruction of hubris? You suppose it couldn't, it was an animal, after all. A headless creature, hung on a wall. Still, you stare at it, just like you used to, trying to decipher your own fate from its cold, dead eyes.

After all, there will be a spectacle, a life-long fight stands ahead of you. Giedi Prime shall be your arena, dead and cold, covered in black. And every single Harkonnen will be your bull, their mere presence a deathly danger to your being. It took one bull to end your Grandfather, you dread to think how many it'll take to end you. There will be blood, you're sure of it. And if things were allowed to go your way, it would flow in rivers upon rivers, through the industrial halls of Giedi Prime. You'd have the entire planet drowned in their blood. Your cursed betrothed, the Baron, the fucking Emperor if you had to.

The bull laughs at your quiet hate, beady eyes bearing down upon you in an imaginary display of indifference. You huff, cheeks reddened, insides twisted and burning.

That's how your Father finds you. Enchanted by a once living instrument of death.

He hasn't spoken to you, since your betrothed has arrived, not really. Not like you used to talk. A way to shield himself, you supposed, from the Emperor's order, which will soon enough take his only Daughter away from him. This was your superpower. You could fish out signs of love in every action.

- Your Mother hates that thing - he comments, as he stands next to you, eyes looking up at the bull.

- I don't blame her, the sight is quite disturbing. - you reply evenly.

You've missed him, more than you can possibly explain with words. But teary displays of affections were below you, especially since you're trying to distance yourself, rise above your body, float right out of your head. Perhaps it'll hurt less that way. Duke Leto Atreides turns to you, and for the first time in a month, you recognize your Father behind this statue of authority. He looks troubled, for lack of a better word. There's much more gray on his brow and the lines of his face are darker, harsher.

- I came to give you something - he announces, producing a small object out of the pocket of his trousers.

It's harder than you thought, tearing your gaze away from the bull, but you manage, your eyes landing on a figurine in your Father's hands. Your heart stops, as you recognize the blackened stone, polished to perfection. On a flat disc stands a figure of a Matador, proud and posed. Next to him, a bull, ready to strike. It's cold to the touch, when you take it from your Father, ridges of the small sculpture digging into your palm.

Jumping in front of danger, for better or worse. Your head starts to hurt.

- Father - the sound of your shaking voice carries through the corridor - How will I ever survive this?

By the way Duke Leto Atreides sucks in a sharp breath, you can deduce the answer. And what a sad answer it is.

Your Father steps closer, gathering your trembling hands in his, the warmth of his embrace engulfing you like the first sun rays of spring. He squeezes your fingers, tightening your own hold on the small figurine, and his eyes are so incredibly sad, you're convinced they could make any heart in the universe weep.

- With courage - he says - and grandiose.

Like a true Matador would.

***

Your bull stands completely still.

His pale skin creates a beautiful contrast against the ever present darkness of the Harkonnen ship. It's so much different from your native fleet, all sleek and black, and efficient. Terrifying, but at the same time, strangely beautiful.

The both of you watch, as the hatch is being pulled up, slowly but surely obscuring all sight of your home planet. Of your family, standing by the docking station like a funeral parade. It's only when you can no longer see them, your life sealed with a click of finality, does your betrothed, now husband, move.

His hand grasps your upper shoulder, and you jump at the sudden contact. Your confused gaze is completely ignored, as the man drags you through the ship, taking large, hasty steps.

Hairless faces swish past you, all so similar to each other, you're worried you'll never figure out who is who. The corridors of the ship wind and turn like a merciless labyrinth, a realization daunting on you, that you will never be able to find your way in this place.

Suddenly, you're faced with a black door, which opens as soon as your husband walks up to it. His grip tightens and he basically throws you forward, watching you stumble through the entrance on weak legs.

It takes you a second to gather yourself, as you instinctually settle into a defensive stance. The room you're in looks quite different from the rest of the ship. It's much more luxurious, one would risk saying cozy. With a gigantic, round bed filled with pillows, a dark desk, and a deliciously comfortable looking armchair. It all dims in your eyes, however, as you look up at your newlywed.

He stands right at the entrance, blocking the only means of escape with his tall frame.

Both of you are still in your wedding clothes. Your dress hugs your body in a way that is anything but comforting. His outfit is as black and sharp, as all his attire. It exposes his lean physique, clings to his warrior's physique. Terrifying, your brain summarizes, muscles freezing suddenly. Feyd Rautha looks at you with emotions you can't decipher in the low light of his room. Your room. Your marital abode.

You can't breathe, lungs tighten painfull with the sheer thickness of the air between the two of you. Still, there's a certain power, residing in your bones, an inclination of a fight you're ready to put up, should he try anything. And by the way his brow bone settles over his darkened eyes, your husband seems to understand. What a terrifying thought. The sheer idea of finding a common ground with this awful man makes your guts turn.

He doesn't even flinch, when the doors behind him slide open. You however, nearly jump out of your skin at the sound, cutting through the deafening silence of the bedroom. With furrowed brow you watch, as three Harkonnen women spill into the room. All of them completely hairless, lips pulled back in feral snarls, as they regard you with an emotion you can only interpret as contempt. Their bodies, clad in typical, Harkonnen garments, flow and slither, when they gather behind your husband, like three hungry lionesses, their black eyes flickering to him, to you.

- Get her ready - Fey Rautha throws a command over his shoulder, eyes glued to you still, and his gaze drags itself across your body like tar.

This is the first time you've heard him speak since the wedding, and involuntarily, you cringe at the gravely sound. While he stayed silent, it was easy to forget who you're dealing with. But as soon as sound leaves his mouth, you're cruelly reminded of the roughness, and the strangeness of your life's partner.

The three women stir behind him, hands sliding up his body in a gesture, that is almost too close to reverence. He does look like a young god, like some ethereal being, but you're too distressed to dwell on that thought. Instead, your arms encircle your body, a shiver of terror and strangely, disgust flowing over you, at the mere idea of these women touching you. Then, one of those three strange creatures moves forward. She has a stripe of black running down her bottom lip, and her face twists into a cruel smile.

She says something in a language you don't recognize. Probably a native Harkonnen. A rough bark, her disgusted expression translating the meaning better, than any dictionary would.

Still, you have no time to process the foreign insult, because as soon as words leave her mouth, your husband turns. His white hand grabs the woman's hairless head, as one would pick an apple from an orchard, and then, you see a flicker of true terror flash through the woman's face. In a smooth, deadly gesture, Feyd Rautha smashes her face against the wall, the resounding sound of her skull fracturing against the concrete is like the cracking of a whip in your ears.

That's all it takes, one move, and she falls into a lifeless heap, sliding down the wall.

A sigh escapes your lips, as your eyes stay glued to her body. You can't see her face.

Your husband barks something towards the remaining two women, and they scurry towards you, heads hung low, bodies curled onto themselves. You don't know, whether he looks at you, acknowledges you in any way, shape or form. The doors close behind him, as he leaves you in the hands of his... Whatever these women are to him.

They begin to strip you where you stand. Their hands peel off your wedding dress from your trembling body, and every move feels like tearing skin from muscle. You can't protest, can't do anything really. Dark, thick blood pools around the third woman's head, dripping between the tilled floor, slowly making it's way closer to your feet.

When they pull you towards the bed, you say nothing. Let them massage your body with some ointment, which smells of heavy chemicals and scratches your throat.

Their hands are unexpectedly delicate. You suppose they're too scared to take revenge on you, or perhaps, they just don't care. Doesn't really matter, because you do. You really care, despite yourself. Heart squeezes in your chest impossibly tight, when they help you up from the bed, and once again you're confronted with the white corpse in the corner of the room.

The dress they pull over your body hardly qualifies as a garment in your eyes. It's made of delicate, sheer material, which barely covers anything, looking more like a courtain thrown over a window.

Is this how he wants you, you wonder. Terrified, bare, always on the verge of something, be it tears or anger.

One of the women steps in front of you, takes your hands in hers and rubs something into your cold bones. You try to catch her eye, try to decipher how to categorize them, as humans or as creatures, but she swiftly ducks under your inquisitive gaze. That is, until your eyes flicker towards the corpse once again.

Her hand shoots up towards your chin, dragging you back to meet her onyx eyes. You can see the reflection of your own confused face in the void.

- You- she rasps, her voice a grating symphony of gurgles and growls that stumble over the common language - Soft.

Whether it's a warning, or a threat, you can't fully decide, but it doesn't matter. Those two words tell you more about your future life, than any book, any archived account. This is what the Harkonnens are made of. Sensless violence, outbursts of anger, dark blood. You swallow thickly, and nod, your expression hardening in the woman's eyes. She looks as if there's something else she'd want to say, but her head ducks at record speed, when the sound of the doors opening cuts through the air once more.

For a longer moment you're completely devoid of words.

Here stands you husband, some sort of fruit in his right hand, two daggers hanging from the belt on his trousers. His chest, white and (unfortunately) toned beyond belief stares back at you. His unoccupied hand makes a wide gesture, and the remaining two women scurry off towards their third, dead companion. With quick hands, they grab the body and drag it out of the room, letting the door slide closed behind them. Immediately, you miss their presence, unnerving as they are.

Once again, you're left alone with the na-Baron.

His eyes float freely all over your figure, taking it in with an impassive stare. It's deeply unnerving, the way you're presented to him, the way he organized all of this, tailored it to his liking. You can't help it, the way your body begins to warm before him, skin becoming prickly to the touch, much too sensitive for the strange imitation of fabric covering it. Still, your mind stays sharp, and instinct kicks in, as you take a cautious step back, angling your bady away from him.

- So, what now? - you ask, voice rough, eyes following his every move.

And move he does, slowly advancing towards you. His feet, which you now discover, are bare, drag behind him. Grace and danger mix well within his movements, as he circles you, still without a word. You throat runs dry, when he bites the fruit in his hand, dark juice spilling all over his lips, drops rolling down his hands, his forearms. Your stomach churns.

- Now - again you're reminded of the gravely tones his voice can carry - We consumate our marriage, wife.

Somehow, your marital status sounds like a mockery spilling from his lips, and he laughs at the way your face scrunches.

- I don't want you to touch me - a lie, your entire body burns for any semblence of friction, but you're determined to keep some dignity.

To that, he nods his head in silent agreement, a gesture, which actually manages to surprise you. The fruit is thrown forgotten onto the floor. It rolls under the bed, and you fight the urge to reprimend your husband. Instead, you bite your lip.

- I thought you would say that - he murmurs, coming closer, his breath fanning over your exposed shoulder.

The hair at the back of your neck stands straight, and you crane your head to the side, so you can look him in the face. So he can see the disaproving expression, perhaps he'd feel a fraction of the hate boiling in your gaze. Then, you can feel something, cold and sharp, drag itself from the dip in your spine, all the way up to your shoulder blades. A gasp escapes you, and your entire body shivers violently.

- That's why I brought these. - Feyd Rautha whispers into your ear, and you can't help but sway lightly in your place, as if his words have the power to physically move you.

Then, your hand closes around a metal object, and you look down to be met with a beautifully crafted dagger. The blade is silver, shiny, and unbelievably sharp. It fits into your grasp as if it was made specially for you, and the possibility almost makes you smile. Then, confusion creases your brow, and your husband flashes you a deadly, black smile, as he steps back a couple of steps.

He's holding a blade as well, jet black and strangely matte, a perfect antitype of yours. There's a sort of lazy excitement about him, hidden in every movement. It reminds you of the way he'd behave in the arena, while making a spectacle of death for you and your family.

- I though this would work on you - he muses, twirling the blade in his hand, and your muscles seize with realization. - And it definitely works on me.

The idea is preposterous, utterly scandalous. Using a fight as some perverse attempt at foreplay, your brain swimms with conflicting emotions.

- You're being ridiculous - you attempt to diffuse the situation, but your husband doesn't budge, rolling his shoulders.

- Come on, wife - he snarls, with a sharp smirk - Don't you want to hurt me?

Something boils inside of you at his words. Some ancient, terrifying anger that you supposed, has always been there with you. From the moment you stepped onto the red carpet, leading you towards your undoing at the altar. Red, like the spilled blood still staining the floor of this bedroom. The rage, which you swallowed down, when you recited the vows, when you let him unveil your face, kiss you in front of the entire Atreides court. Now, it seeped through every pore in your skin, covering you in a tar like courtain.

You hate your husband. You hate Feyd Rautha, the na-Baron of House Harkonnen.

Hate him for being your husband, for agreeing to this cruel match. For taking you away from your family, from your wise Father, and your strict Mother, and your sweet Brother. For ripping you away from love, which didn't even have time to properly bloom. Duncan's face dances in front of you like a taunting vision from an angry god, and your fingers tighten around the dagger.

Feyd Rautha is right. You want to hurt him. You wanted to, before you even met him.

- There you are - his lips pull back into a cruel, blackened smile of self-satisfaction - I was worried they took away all your venom, Viper.

You'll show him fucking venom, you think, feet sliding on the floor, twisting your body into a dancing position. Two sets of shields click into life, and suddenly you begin to understand.

This is your arena. This is your bull.

This will be your battlefield for the rest of your life, for as long as you're able to withstand it. With courage and grandiose, your Father's voice haunts you, but soon after another echo rises in your mind. Your Mother, your teacher, her whisper slithers from your memory, a passing comment right before you're shipped off to Giedi Prime, when she squeezed your hand so tight, you were worried tendons under your skin would snap.

Excitement and arousal flow freely from your husband's expression, as he watches yours harden. Something inexplicable settles over your features, a promise. You'll give him a fight of a lifetime, and he'll love it, every single time. It should unnerve you, the way his body lowers itself, like a panther ready to strike. It would've unnerved you some time ago.

Now, however, it shows you a clear path to survival. This is how you take control.

Cold blood splatters from under your feet, as you jump towards him, a series of measured blows following closely behind. He blocks them, lets some be pushed back by the shield. Then, he's on you, brutal and unhibited slashes fly around your body, and you meet all of them with a blocking blade. You're pushed back, towards the wall, where remains of the previous killing still stain the concrete. Blood seeps into the thin fabric on your body, and you shiver in disgust, as it sticks to you.

Your husband doesn't notice, his blade leaves a rather deep mark in the wall, as you duck under his arm, and avoid a nasty punch to the gut.

Plap, plap, plap, your feet carry you through the room, as you try to gain some leverage. The mattress on the bed is surprisingly soft, when you climb on top of it, gaining the advantage of a higher position. An advantage, which is quickly torn out of your hands, as your husband grabs onto your ankle, tugging at it with such force, you tumble down in an instant.

Panic rises in your gut, as the world sins around you, and without really thinking, you let your mind flow into autopilot.

- Let me go! - the Voice tears out of your throat like a landslide, and Feyd Rautha throws himself off of you, his body colliding with the nearby desk.

Books and papers crash to the floor with the force of his figure. Your head swimms, but you will it away, too focused on survival to care for your well-being. Both of you are panting, trying to recover from this sudden use of ancient magics.

- I should rip that treacherous tongue right out of your skull - the threat would carry more strength, if your husband's expression wasn't absolutely dripping with unabashed lust.

Never in your life has someone looked at you this way, and the shock of emotions is enough to pull you right to your feet. Your blade reflects the dim lights of the room, as you raise it high, body taunt and ready.

- You'll never get that close.

A challenge, which doesn't even have enough time to properly resound in the thick air of the room, before Feyd Rautha pushes himself off the desk. Things clatter to the ground from the force of his movements, and you barely have time to react, when his blade sinks into your shield. Your body flies backwards, falling in heap with his at the foot of your marital bed. The edge digs into your back, your left hand pressed tightly into the mattress.

He's hovering over you, panting like a wild animal, face illuminated red from below, where, just short of his juggular, your blade licks a stripe across his alabaster skin. His right hand is wedged between your bodies, dagger nicking you under your ribs. And you stay in this position, like a marble statue, your eyes melting into his, frozen in time.

- You fought well, Atreides - his voice rumbles deep within his chest, and you can't help, but snarl at his words. - We would've taken each other to an early grave.

Something dangerously close to fondness floods his features at the idea, and your fingers start to unravel, letting go of the dagger one by one. He doesn't have a chance to react, when your blade clatters to the floor, and your hand, now free, grabs the back of his head, pulling him down.

Your kiss opens the gates of hell, and soon, his own dagger is thrown across the room. You can't see, refuse to see, as your eyelids flutter closed. His lips are slightly chapped, but not any less delicious. Left hand thrashes in his hold, until he lets it go. Then, they both find purchase against his sharp cheekbones, and you hold him so tight, you might break his face with your ministrations.

- I knew it would work - he pants against your lips, you can hear the smile in every syllable.

- Shut the fuck up - you snarl, fingers digging deeper into his skin.

He groans into the kiss, immediately forcing his tongue into your mouth, as his hands work hard to manouver your legs open enough, for him to slot in between. Then, his touch is everywhere. On your legs, he drags the sheer fabric up and down your thighs, as he carresses your skin, blunt nails digging into the flesh of your hips. They venture upwards, to grab at your breasts, they fight their way into your hair, where he pulls and scrapes.

It doesn't matter, you think, when you hear the fabric tear, and the carefully chosen attire falls from your body. Nothing matters.

You're boneless and defenseless against this one insidious emotion, which carries your every move, which compells you to arch your back, to reveal your running pulse under his searching lips. Feyd Rautha bites down on your skin, right where your neck meets your shoulder, and you respond in kind, head descending upon his porcelain skin. He shudders under your teeth and tongue, his entire body tensing.

This is how you take control, and you've never felt so greedy.

His trousers aren't even fully off of his legs, when he enters you, clumsily and with urgency, bare feet sliding on the floor. Surprisingly inexperienced, he chases your core with his entire body, as if the heat of your insides in a completely foreign sensation.Your moan tears at the column of your throat, where his lips leave a trail of purple marks. The covers remains undisturbed, as your husband ruts into you, pressing your back harder against the edge of the bed. It's uncomfortable, it's hurtful, but somehow, it feels perfect for the two of you. Fucking like wild animals, not even able to make it onto the bed.

- I hate you - you repeat, like a mantra, broken voice cascading with every thrust. - I hate you, I ha-

Your head rolls backwards, when a particularly hard thrust nearly breaks you, but your husband is here to help, his hand grabbing the the roots of your hair, bringing your head down, so you can watch as he performs a magic trick of repeatedly disapearing into your body.

You're not sure who's blood his hand slips on, but suddenly, you're fully on the floor, your body crushed by his. Nothing stops his wild movements, not the sloppiness of it all, not the hard wails he tears from your body. If anything, the more strain his body is under, the more ferocious he's being. Your hand shoots up, all five fingers digging into his throat, and you're rewarded with an angelic moan, which almost brings you to your finish line. Almost.

His head leans down into the crook of your neck, where he whispers something in Harkonnen, a gurgle of rough sounds, interrupted by sinful moans. He sounds so beautiful, so conflicted, for a second you consider being gentle with him. Alas, you hate him still.

Another realization dawns upon you, as your feet kick with force into your husbands backside, to force him deeper, to keep him inside. This is still a fight. You're still on the battlefield, still waving a red flag in front of a raging bull. So, with courage and grandiose, your muscles tense, and you roll your husband over.

The change in position makes both of you gasp in unison, as you sink down onto him. For a second, everything stops. His lips are red and swollen, sweat and blood mix on his skin, flow down in pinkish stripes. And he watches you, as one would a holy painting of a foreign god. With reverence and utter lack of understanding. You're fully aware the look is mirrored on your face.

Slowly at first, your hips begin to rock, up and down, in a steady rhythm, that forces a shuddering breath to leave Feyd Rautha's lips. You bend down, to catch it, and because of your greed, you catch his bottom lip as well. The bite you give him is anything but romantic, and his hips jump from the floor, hitting a spot within you, you didn't know existed. He swallows your moan along with his own blood, and his fingertips map the curve of your spine, as you straighten upon him.

Fingernails latch themselves into the skin of his chest, as you speed up, chasing your own release and no one else's. Moans spill from your lips, the concept of shame abandoning your mind completely. Then, compelled by something dark and twisted you drag claw marks down his torso.

His body shudders, and his hips lift off the ground, fucking into you with reckless abandon. The hold he has on the flesh of your hips is bruising, to say the least, but you did enough damage to call it even. Enough, to make your body tremble and tense up, as climax creeps up on you steadily.

Like a shark sniffing for blood, he senses the change in your being, and as you tumble over the edge, a silent scream tearing at your throat, he suddenly rises into a seating position. His arms encircle you fully, pressing your sweaty bodies impossibly close, as he too finds his own end.

It takes him second, to tumble over, filling you to the brim with ink. His head buries itself into your shoulder, inhaling your scent through deep gasps, each eliciting a broken growl from his chest.

Your bones are gone completely, body relaxing and falling breathless into your husband's arms. After a while of sitting in complete stillness, he moves first. Strong hands lift you up, off of him, and you whine at the emptiness.

Then, as a last hurrah, he throws you onto the bed, where your recovering body sinks into the soft mattress. It's heavenly, the way you seem to float in nothingness, head swimming from exertion. For a moment you don't even register him climbing into the bed with you, drunk on the fading tension seeping from your every pore.

The lights are almost completely out, yet his skin shines against the black comforter. You wish to see if he's flushed, like he was at the engagement party. Leaning on one arm, his fingers trail around the small wound under your ribs. Dried blood flakes off of your skin, and you shudder again.

- I - you start, voice completely broken - I've never known hate, until I met you.

You're not sure why you've said it. Perhaps, in this moment of serenity, truth seems to float to the surface much more easily. Or perhaps you're possessed, or worse, gone completely insane. Eother way, your eyebrows furrow, and Feyd Rautha leans down to kiss your forehead, gently.

- If this is how your hate looks like - he whispers into your hairline, teeth scraping lightly against it - I dread to imagine your love.

You'll never find out, you think, but for some reason can't fully vocalize it.

He says something else, after a while, but your mind is becoming as heavy as your body, and as the day descends upon you in a heap of exhaustion, you fall asleep.

And while your story has nothing but suffering in the future, while there's death and mourning, and years of violence written in the stars for you. Right now, on the Harkonnen ship sailing through space to Giedi Prime, you sleep in the arms of your husband. Whether this strange symbiotic relationship will last, no one can tell, but there is hope, and what else could you possibly need?

#my writing #dune part 2 #dune x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #dune smut #what a journey my gosh #thank you once again for following the story love y'all

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hier--soir · 1 year

Text

whole new can of worms

joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: two friends decide to blow off a little steam together. warnings/tags: [18+ minors DNI] fwb!joel, famous HOG joel miller lmao, age gap [20 years], language, alcohol consumption, established friendship, guitar playing joel!!, oral [f and m recieving], p in v sex, starts slow and careful and ends up rough oops. word count: 6.9k (nice) series masterlist | masterlist a/n: okay LOOK. i’m working on a final part to this little impromptu series, but I got very side-tracked with the idea of a prequel and then the most smut I’ve ever written just fucking spilled out of me. this is the first time they had sex, ladies and gentlemen. you get the beginning before you get the end. enjoy. also, this moment from tlou pt 2 game is what i was picturing for the beginning when joel is playing the song. dont watch if you don't want to, its from a cut scene very late in the second game. zero spoilers, just joel miller strumming that damn guitar in a way i'll never forget. this is part one of my fwb!joel series. you can find the other parts here: two, three, four.

“Play that one I like.”

Joel offered no verbal response, but sat up straighter in his chair, fingers adjusting along the fretboard of his guitar. You relaxed into your seat, closing your eyes and taking a long sip from your glass of amber liquor.

He began playing and you smiled happily, goosebumps breaking out across your skin as the familiar tune filled the air between you and your friend, melding with the sound of rain softly pattering against the roof of his veranda. You kicked your feet up onto the table between you, the tense muscles in your legs aching from the stretch.

“Get your feet off the table,” Joel muttered, fingers never ceasing on the instrument. “Animal.”

Your eyes stayed closed, but you stuck your tongue out in his direction, smirking a little and keeping your feet up, knowing he didn’t really mind.

Both of you had endured a long fucking day.

Winter was fading into Spring, and the trees and plants in Jackson were slowly but surely beginning to bloom again. It meant you were spending more hours in the green house than out on patrol, and you weren’t complaining. Tending to the garden relaxed you, connected you to nature and to one of the food sources in the commune that helped put a little bit of food on everyone’s plate each week. Working there made you feel connected to the town, and you loved it, truly. Except, for when a thunderstorm happened.

They’d scared you for as long as you could remember. Since you were a kid, thunder and lightning had made you want to crawl under the covers on your bed and hide away until the loud noises disappeared. But as a full-grown woman, you weren’t afforded such luxuries. Rain, hail or shine, the people in Jackson depended on each other, and you couldn’t duck out of a shift because of a silly little phobia.

When the rain started pouring down on the glass roof of the greenhouse you hadn’t been surprised. Only a few weeks into springtime, the town was still shaking off the remnants of a bitterly cold winter, and a little rain was still common. It was only when the first crack of thunder sounded that you’d stilled, hands frozen gripping a heavy pot, an unwelcome shiver racing down your spine. You’d had to work for hours, the sound of rain pelting against the roof accompanying you, with flashes of lightning appearing out of the corner of your eye all day.

When all was said and done, you’d trudged through the downpour to Joel’s house and arrived on his doorstep looking like a drowned rat, only to find out that he’d spent his afternoon stuck outside on patrol, in the very weather you were so upset about.

He’d opened the door with damp hair, bundled in warm clothes, the tip of his nose a light shade of pink from the cold.

“Whiskey?” he’d asked.

You nodded. “Whiskey.”

And so the pair of you had ended up on his porch, under cover from the residual spit of rain, forgetting all about the shit day through good company and good alcohol.

As Joel strummed the last few chords of the song you sighed glumly, cracking an eye open to watch him. He set the guitar down gently and reached for his glass.

“So beautiful,” you murmured. “Wish I could play.”

“And then what use would I be?” he chuckled. “Can’t have you learning guitar; I’d have no one to play for anymore.”

You watched him closely. Staring into his glass, you could see him mulling the words over in his head. Ellie had hardly spoken a word to him in weeks, and you could see the toll it was taking, although you never pried. Clearly, something had happened, and although you and Joel were close, you hadn’t wanted to insert yourself into whatever drama had consumed his little found family. It made your chest hurt though, to watch him miss that girl. He’d always loved playing for her.

“Good thing I’m lazy then,” you mused softly. “Swear I couldn’t play an instrument with a gun to my head. I’ll need to keep you around.”

“Works for me,” he said, refilling both your glasses. “You on the patrol roster tomorrow?”

You shook your head, accepting the glass with a grateful smile. A slight buzz warmed your insides, fighting to keep your body temperature up as the cool breeze licked at your exposed hands and face. “Nope, I’m a free agent tomorrow, no responsibilities.”

“God damn,” he rolled his eyes. “Gonna be stuck out there all alone with Tommy.”

“Devastating,” you grinned. “I’m way better company.”

“Too right,” Joel agreed. “What’s your plan for the day, little miss no responsibilities? Still reading that book I found you?”

Probably masturbate. The thought zipped through your mind so suddenly that you felt your chest warm, and you cleared your throat softly.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Probably just read for a while. Dinner at Maria and Tommy's, remember?”

You hoped he didn’t see through the lie, because the truth was that you were embarrassed by yourself. Only a few days before you’d been struck by the realisation that you hadn’t had sex, or even been touched intimately by another person, in months. In fact, you noted sullenly, it had been half a fucking year. And you were struggling. It was your longest dry spell in a while, and every night lately you’d found yourself tangled up in your bed with your hand in your underwear, wishing desperately that someone, anyone, else was there with you.

Trying to ward off the unsavoury thoughts filling your mind, you took a deep gulp of whiskey and shut your eyes, contemplating asking if he had any cigarettes laying around.

Suddenly, a deep groan pierced the air between you and your eyes shot open. What the fuck?

With wide eyes, you saw that Joel was gripping his right leg tightly, thumb rubbing deep circles into the skin above his knee cap, and you forced yourself to relax. A sound of pain, you realised. But your heart had stuttered in your chest, because as out of character as it would’ve been, with your eyes closed it had sounded like a vaguely sexual noise. You rolled your eyes, willing yourself to get a grip. But it had been so long, and the sound of a man groaning in any way was enough to light a fire in your stomach.

“It’s the cold,” he noticed your stare. “Makes my knee ache.”

You nodded knowingly, eyes watching as his large hand gripped his thigh, applying pressure to the tender area.

“What’s up your ass?” Joel asked.

“Huh?” your gaze flashed up to meet his and found him watching you closely, eyebrows furrowed.

“You’re frownin’,” he said. “Gone all quiet suddenly.”

“So are you,” you huffed defensively, face warming. “You always fucking frown, I can’t do it one time?”

“No,” he grinned cheekily, stilling rubbing his knee. “I frown enough for the both of us. You can figure somethin’ else out.”

You let out a begrudging chuckle and felt the indent between your eyebrows relax.

“Seriously,” he pushed. “What’s wrong? Is it too cold? We should move inside.”

“No,” you cringed, scratching the side of your neck awkwardly. Lowering your legs off the table you sat up a little straighter in your chair. “It’s good out here, I like it. I’m just… distracted, I don’t know.”

“What’s on your mind?” he sipped his whiskey.

Without needing any more prompting, you gave up on beating around the bush. “When’s the last time you had sex?”

A choked sound escaped him, and he swallowed quickly, coughing into his elbow. “Christ, what?”

“I’m not,” your cheeks were on fire. “I’m not thinking about you having sex, relax. I was thinking about me having sex. Or not having sex, to be more precise.”

He coughed again, an awkward expression flashing across his face.

You and Joel had been friends for a few years now, since he and Ellie returned to Jackson and decided to settle in the commune. After being friends with Tommy for a few years before that, you’d fallen into a natural friendship with his older brother. It was no secret that there was 20 odd year age difference between you and Joel, but in a post-apocalyptic world, it had never phased either of you. Friends were friends, and an age gap didn’t impact much. But sex was a topic that had seldom come up in conversation over those few years. Here and there maybe, but never in detail, and never so candidly.

“I almost walked in on Shae and Petra fucking the other day,” you continued plainly. “She was late for patrol, so I went over to see if she’d slept in, and I could hear them from outside the fucking house. Stood there like an ass for a minute, just listening like a creep.”

Joel watched you closely, and you noticed his hand gripped his glass a little tighter, fingertips white from the pressure “You… listened?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” you cringed, rubbing a hand over your face shamefully. “Just for a fucking second. Hadn’t realised how long it had been, and it was like my feet wouldn’t move.”

“I see.”

“You better not tell a soul about this,” you pointed at him threateningly. “I’ll end you if anybody finds out, Miller. I swear.”

“I believe you,” he snorted, holding his hands up in surrender. “My lips are sealed.”

You relaxed a little, relieved to discover that he wasn’t going to be as awkward about it as you’d first feared.

“How long has it been?”

Your eyes ticked up to stare at him again. “Like, six months or something.”

Joel let out a low whistle and nodded slowly, sipping from the crystal tumbler in his hand. “You poor soul.”

“Oh, come off it,” you scoffed in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you’re having sex and I’m not? This just keeps getting worse.”

“Fuck you,” he drawled mockingly, that deep Texan accent making you grin. “Would it be such a surprise if I was?”

“S’just bullshit,” you glowered, picking at your nails in frustration. Traces of soil still lined the creases in your palms and you rubbed at it furiously, in a fruitless attempt at cleaning them.

“I’m not,” is all he said, and you frowned at him in confusion. “Havin’ sex,” he added with a smirk. "And it's been longer for me, so quit your whinin'."

You raised your eyebrows, appreciating the honesty. “Well thank god I’m not the only one.”

“Don’t know when I would,” he shrugged simply. “And who would I be having sex with, anyways? Spend all my fuckin’ time on patrol listening to Tommy talk for hours, or I’m sleepin’, or I’m with you.”

The thought itched so suddenly at the back of your brain, and you fought against it, shaking your head ever so slightly to push it away. Don’t think that. But it was persistent, and after a few moments of silence, your mind was filled with thoughts of you and Joel Miller fucking.

Admittedly, it was something you’d thought about once or twice when you’d first met him. He was a handsome guy, and his arrival in Jackson had definitely caused a stir among the women in the commune. But you’d fallen into a friendship so quickly, so comfortably, that the thought had never reared its ugly head again. Until now.

You watched him for a moment. His hair was dry at that point, and short messy curls framed his face and neck. He had neat dark facial hair, with sweet specks of ashy grey mixed in here and there. That familiar scar on the bridge of his nose. Lips that had gone a darker shade of pink from the cold, that you’d never realised looked quite so… plush. Eyes trailing down, your gaze raked over his hands. Long, calloused fingers that wrapped around almost the entirety of his glass. the warmth in your stomach spread downward, and you knew you should feel embarrassed at where your brain was taking you, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Images flashed through your mind of his hands gripping you like that. Fingers leaving marks on your thighs, on your neck. You shivered, looking away quickly.

“Fuck,” you sighed quietly, not even caring if he heard.

“Hey,” he said softly, assuming you were upset. “Someone’ll come along. We could talk to Tommy about setting you up or somethin’.”

You hummed noncommittally and turned in your chair to face him head on. Joel noticed and adjusted his position to do the same, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that look?” he asked, eyebrows pinching together.

Jesus, here goes nothing.

“What if we fucked?”

Joel stared. His jaw clenched almost imperceptibly, and he put his glass down on the table with a soft clink.

“What?” he said lowly, his voice taking on a sudden gravelly quality.

“I mean,” you searched desperately for the words to explain yourself, licking your lips nervously. “You said it yourself, we’re so busy, right? Always working, or sleeping, or we’re hanging out, you and me. So, what if we just… blew off a little steam together?”

His eyebrows had raised so dramatically you thought they might disappear into his hairline. It wasn’t often you managed to shock Joel, and you laughed gently at the astounded expression that decorated his face.

“You want to blow off steam… with me?” he pointed lamely at his chest.

“Don’t sound so incredulous,” you joked. “You’re a catch, Joel. You know the teens call you a HOG, right? Hot old guy.“

“Shut up,” he held up a hand to silence you, his eyes squeezing shut tightly as you laughed at his embarrassment. “Don’t want to hear that shit.”

“It wouldn’t mean anything, Joel,” you reassured, veering back on topic. “We could just… help each other wind down after a long day.”

You watched each other in silence for a moment, and you noticed him shuffle slightly in his seat, hand gripping his knee once again. For a minute, you worried that you’d upset him. The friendship you two shared was strong, and you always known you could confide almost anything in him. He was trustworthy, and valued your word above so many others. But maybe this was over the line.

As you were about to speak again, about to take it all back and apologise for even suggesting it, he finally opened his mouth.

“It wouldn’t mean anything?” he clarified. “This won’t affect our friendship.”

You shook your head quickly. “Nothing at all. No strings, bud. Final offer.”

With a deep, rumbling sigh, Joel snatched his glass off the table and downed the remainder of its contents before standing up. “Alright then.”

You’d been in Joel’s room a hundred times over the years. Hauling him out of bed for patrol after he’d accidentally slept in, or rifling through his chest of drawers to steal a thick pair of socks. But never for this reason. The pair of you stood awkwardly at the foot of his bed, staring at everything other than each other, as the air crackled with palpable tension.

Joel scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, and you smirked, unfamiliar with seeing him being unsure of himself.

“If you don’t want to, we can just forget I ever sai-“

“Just taking your fuckin’ clothes off,” he grunted, staring you down suddenly. Wide eyed, you felt a rush of heat through your thighs.

“Jesus,” you breathed. “Romance isn’t dead.”

He huffed out a laugh and your shoulders relaxed, happy to see a crack through his tense façade. Your tugged off your sweater, and then your shirt, tossing them over the chair in the corner of his room. Working quickly, you undid the zipper on your pants and pulled them down your legs until you were left in your underwear, a thin white singlet, and your socks.

You reminded yourself that Joel had already seen you naked, thinking back on a time when the two of you had gone skinny dipping in a lake you stumbled across on patrol the summer before. But this was so different. This wasn’t a random moment of spontaneity. And at the lake he'd been a gentleman, averting his eyes for the most part out of politeness, but now? Now he was watching your every move.

Silently, he undid the strap off his watch and placed it on the top of his dresser, before working to undo the buttons on his shirt. After he had tugged it off, you let your eyes trail over his exposed skin, and with no fabric covering him, you could see how quickly his chest rose and fell.

“Hey,” you said quietly, stepping forward and placing a hand on his chest. You felt his heart race under the warm skin and smiled. “It’s just me. Let me help you relax, okay?”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips quickly, and you wondered what it would be like to kiss him. You didn’t dwell on it though, and leaned forward to drag your lips across the skin of his neck. He smelt like rain and pine needles, and you inhaled deeply, pressing soft kisses along his pulse point. One of his hands landed heavily on your waist and his thumb begun rubbing encouraging circles over your hip bone. You hummed against his skin, pressing your chest against his. Exposed to the cool temperature, your nipples pebbled underneath your shirt, and from his exhale you knew he could feel them pressing against his bare chest.

With a slight tremor in your hand, you trailed your fingers down his chest. Through the soft hair smattered there, over the thick jagged scar on his stomach, to his belt buckle. Joel shivered lightly, gripping your waist a little tighter. You worked quickly to undo his belt, and then you dragged his zipper down. With a low sigh, you rested your hand over the front of his pants. He jolted slightly, hand sliding around your back to hold you tighter to his chest. With your face hidden in his neck, you couldn’t see his reaction, but you took the firm pressure of his hand on your back as a clear sign to continue. You palmed him gently through his pants, listening to the little puffs of air that rushed out of his nose as he kept his breathing calm. A surge of confidence rushed through you, and you stepped away, letting your hand fall away from him. His arm dropped from your back to his side, and he watched with bated breath as you lowered yourself onto your knees in front of him.

You gripped the waistband of his pants and started to drag them down his legs, helping him step out of them. Wearing nothing but a tight pair of briefs, it was impossible not to stare. You could see the shape of him through the dark fabric, your mouth salivated. More, you needed to see more. Without wasting a second, you tucked your fingers into the band of them and pulled them down slowly, giving him the chance to stop you if he wanted to. But he didn’t. He watched you with hooded dark eyes, chest moving with deep controlled breaths, his bottom lip tucked into his mouth. With his underwear gone, Joel’s cock finally came into your sight. He was only half hard, you realised with awe, and your stomach tingled as you realised what you were in for. Reaching out, your traced your fingers slowly over his hip bones, smiling as goosebumps broke out across his skin, before gently wrapping your fingers around him.

A shaky breath escaped from his nose.

“Is this okay?” you asked quietly, hand stroking softly along his length. He nodded jerkily. “Why don’t you sit on the bed?”

Joel dropped heavily onto the edge of his bed, and you moved forward to rest on your knees in between his parted legs, placing your hand back over him. The air in the room had turned humid, and you could feel sweat forming on your back out of anticipation. The only light source came from the moon shining in his window, bathing the both of you in a pale light.

“You’re so handsome,” you sighed wistfully, gripping him tighter. “I’ve always known it, but seeing you like this is different. So handsome, Joel.”

He reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder, gripping your skin and massaging the knotted muscle at the top of your back. You groaned appreciatively, and without another moment’s hesitation, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his thigh. No more fucking around. You needed him.

Your hand stroked him firmer, tighter, but your mouth was salivating, desperate to taste him. So you dragged wet kisses along his leg until you reached his abdomen, and then you brought your wet mouth to hover over his cock. You heard his breath hitch and smiled devilishly, staring greedily at his ruddy tip, marvelling as a drop of precum leaked out of him. Painfully slow, you pushed forward and pressed a kiss to it, tongue darting out to swipe along him and taste his salt. Joel hissed in surprise, gripping your shoulder tighter as his other hand moved to the back of your head. Not putting any pressure there, just holding you. Lathing your tongue over his head, you moaned lowly at the taste of him. Salty and warm and masculine. You could feel your underwear sticking uncomfortably against you from how wet you were. Closing your eyes, you cupped his balls gently and pressed wet kisses down his length, dragging your tongue over the pulsing vein that ran from base to tip, and basking in the short gasps that flew out of his mouth.

“Stop teasin’,” he grumbled, and you looked up with a smirk to see his dark eyes glaring down at you.

“Sorry,” you lied, before taking his head into your warm mouth and sucking gently. Slowly, you pressed forward, taking more of him in. You felt him swell against your tongue, getting harder from the stimulation, and you hummed around him. He was so big. Maybe bigger than anyone you’d been with, and you struggled to take it all. He was so thick and heavy in your mouth, it was all you could think about. Consuming every thought, every feeling; all you could focus on was the weight of him on your tongue. You worked on creating a rhythm, bobbing your head and taking as much of him in your mouth as you could, while your hand gripped him at the base, stroking him at the same time.

And finally, finally, he made a sound.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned, drawing out the vowel as a heavy breath he’d been holding escaped his lungs. His fingers dragged through your hair roughly, gripping the back of your head. You pushed yourself forward, taking more of him in until he was pressing into your throat, and you swallowed tightly around him. “Christ, feels so fuckin’ good.”

Seemingly against his will, Joel’s hips bucked upward off the bed and you gagged around him, tears springing into your eyes. He moaned lowly, cursing under his breath at the feeling of your throat contracting around him. Unable to help yourself, you removed your hand from him and lowered it down your body, slipping your fingers underneath the band of your underwear and dipping into the wet heat between your own legs. Breathing harshly through your nose, you moaned around him as your finger brushed your aching clit. You pulled back and worked your tongue over his weeping slit, enjoying the way his grip on your hair tightened as you paid close attention to the most sensitive part of him.

“You’re drivin’ me insane,” he ground out, and you glanced up to see him watching you reverently, eyes wide and glossy, cheeks flushed. “So fuckin’ hot. God, you have the prettiest mouth, how did I never notice that? Never fuckin’ thought about how good my cock would look between your lips until it was happening. I’m a fuckin’ idiot.”

Your cunt pulsed against your fingers and you whimpered, taking him back in your mouth as far as you could. God, the way he spoke made you fucking ache for him. after so many years of knowing him, hearing his voice every day, you’d never have imagined him saying things like that to you. But the weight of him in your mouth was delicious, and his words only spurred you to push forward, forward, forward, revelling in the way he groaned as your nose brushed the dark curls at his base. Tears leaked out of your eyes, rolling down your cheeks from the effort, but you didn’t stop. You slid a finger inside yourself and gagged around him again, eyes rolling back in your head at the intoxicating sensation of having something inside both your mouth and your pussy.

“Takin’ me so well,” his thumb brushed across your cheek, wiping away the tears. “God, I’m in your fuckin’ throat, baby.” The pet name made your stomach tighten, and you moaned as more slick formed around your fingers.

“Shit,” he choked out suddenly, losing all composure. “Are you fucki-“

You moaned, eyebrows furrowing as you fucked your hand and bobbed your mouth up and down quicker over his length.

“Stop,” he ordered, saying your name firmly. “I- Stop, I’m gonna come.” You ignored him, making a high-pitched sound around him as you felt the hot coil in your stomach begin to tighten. His hand gripped your hair tighter, and he pulled you off him.

You blinked lazily up at him, eyebrows furrowed dejectedly, lips parted. A string of saliva hung in the air between your bottom lip and his tip. You dragged your fingers out of your underwear, chest heaving with heavy breaths.

“Jesus, don’t fuckin’ look at me like that,” he groaned and broke eye contact, gripping your shoulder to pull you up off the floor. “Get up.”

Pushing gently on your shoulders, he nudged you forward onto the bed, and you crawled up before collapsing with your heads against the pillows. His bed was softer than you’d anticipated, and everything smelt like him. The pillows, the duvet. God, even if this was a one-time thing, you’d never forget that smell. He followed you, settling with his legs in between yours, and placed his palms on your stomach, pushing the thin material of your shirt up and over your breasts until it was bunched around your collarbones. Your heart pounded heavily in your chest, and you were aching for him, begging him with your eyes to just please, do something, anything.

And Joel was on you before you could speak, his fingers tracing and over your nipples, squeezing the weight of your breast in his palm before latching his lips onto you. He sucked your painfully tight nipple into his mouth, tongue lazily swiping across it, driving you insane. You sighed heavily, running a hand over the skin of his back and holding him to you. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin ever so lightly and your back arched off the bed. Moving over, he shifted his ministrations to your other breast, his eyes closed as he wet your skin with his slick mouth. And then one of his hands was drifting down your stomach, tickling over your skin, under it met your underwear, and he was cupping you through the fabric. Your hips stuttered upward, and he groaned into your chest, trailing his fingers over the soaked material.

“So fuckin’ wet already,” he muttered into your skin, and you nodded franticly against the pillows. “Did you get this turned on just from havin’ my cock in your mouth? Had to touch yourself?” Surprise zapped through you once more, ecstatic to learn just how much he loved to talk during sex. It was one of your favourite things, and it had always killed you to have sex with someone who was just silent the whole time.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Wanted you to finish in my mouth.”

He bit down onto your chest in response and you cried out quietly, eyes rolling back as he sucked a mark onto your skin with his fingers continued tracing feather light over your covered core.

“Maybe later,” his voice was strained. “Need to see you come first.”

He pulled the fabric of your underwear to the side, and then he was touching you with no barrier, and you trembled beneath him. You’d forgotten how good it felt to have someone else’s hands on you.

Joel groaned as he dipped his middle finger between your warm folds, gliding it up and down along your core, getting it covered in your slick. He swirled the tip of his finger around your entrance and you whimpered, hips grinding desperately against his hand. But he didn’t go inside you. His finger moved back up, all the way up, and swiped gently over your clit and you let out a pathetic moan. Such a small, miniscule touch had your stomach tensing painfully, ridiculously close to orgasm after so much time.

Bringing his face up to rest beside yours, he sucked your earlobe into his mouth gently, before murmuring in your ear, “I want to taste you.”

You didn’t say anything, too stunned by the feeling of his fingers against you, until he probed you for a response, purring your name into your ear.

“Need to hear you say it,” he encouraged. “Tell me what you want.”

“Please,” you begged, eyes shut tightly as he rubbed soft circles around your bundle of nerves. “I want you to taste me.” A grunt of frustration left your mouth as his hand disappeared and you opened your eyes to glare at him, but your mouth fell open, awestruck, when you saw him raise his soaked digits to his lips.

“Like this?” he goaded, sucking your slick off himself and groaning.

“Please,” you repeated, mouth dry as you watched him hum around his middle finger. “Need your mouth on me, your tongue, I-“

“Okay,” he soothed, moving down the bed in an instant. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

He spread your legs apart, fingers splayed as he held your thighs against the bed, displaying your weeping centre for him to see. A deep sound echoed though the room, and it took you a moment to realise it had been Joel. His dark eyes stared at the spot between your legs, and he dragged his fingers through the coarse hair that covered you.

His movements were torturously slow as he leaned down, pressing sloppy kisses on your hips, along the inside of your thighs, until finally his hot breaths were fanning across your core. You clenched around nothing, whimpering at how empty you felt but knowing it would have to wait.

It was like stepping into a warm bath. The second his tongue was on you, fire raced through your veins, warming your body from head to toe. A sound of relief slipped from your lips, and your eyes rolled back as he licked a broad stripe up the entire length of you. A raspy groan vibrated against you as he pressed a messy kiss against your pussy. You looked down and gasped at the sight of his eyes already on you, watching you and your reactions to him.

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he drawled against you and you twitched at the sensation of his lips brushing against your clit. His thumbs pressed against your folds, holding you open for him to see everything, and he lathed his warm tongue against your clit, circling it until you were moaning and tensing your thighs against his hold, muscles screaming at you to press against his head and hold him to you.

You whispered his name over and over as if it were a prayer. As if you’d forgotten all other words in the English language and his name was your only salvation. His tongue dipped inside your entrance, prodding firmly until you whimpered and begged him to please, please, let you come.

He ate you out like a man possessed. Like you were his last meal and he intended to savour every god damn second of the experience. He was ravenous, lips and tongue working together to make every muscle in your body tighten until you were gasping. At some point your hand had drifted behind his head and you found yourself tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling it tightly as his mouth moved against you.

“Joel,” you groaned. He hummed against you, movements never ceasing. “Oh fuck, Joel, I’m gonna come.”

His eager moan into your cunt was all it took for you to be catapulted over the precipice and drop into your orgasm. Your body was on fire, vibrating against him as you trembled through it, moans and cries leaving your mouth as your way of thanking him. His hands held your thighs in a vice grip, and there would no doubt be marks there tomorrow to remind you were his fingertips had dug into your skin. As your body relaxed into the mattress again, he pressed a final kiss to your clit before pulling back and dragging his face across your thigh, wiping the remnants of your slick off his facial hair.

“Fuck,” he rasped, grinning up at you with glistening lips.

“So good,” you agreed, nodding as you tried to catch your breath.

“Almost came all over the sheets,” he admitted and you laughed, beckoning him towards you. He stumbled a bit, one of his knees buckling below him on the bed, leading him to land awkwardly on top of you.

“Shit,” he groused. “Sorry, bad fuckin’ knee. You’ve got me all bent out of shape.”

You chuckled lowly, pulling him up to lay beside you on the bed. “Let’s not put anymore pressure of them then, okay?” He watched you carefully, curiously, as you turned on your side and then moved backwards, pressing yourself flush against his chest.

His cock pulsed against your ass, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, hand splayed on your stomach to hold you against him as he rutted forward. The feeling of his wet tip dragging along your skin reignited the fire in you and you whimpered, lifting your leg only to push it back and drape it over his waist as much as you could.

“You want it like this?” he asked urgently, hot breaths fanning across your sweaty neck. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging on it gently.

You nodded, and waited as he pushed his body a little lower on the bed. His hand disappeared from your chest, and you allowed yourself to pout a little, only because you knew he couldn’t see your face. And then his left arm slithered underneath your shoulder and wrapped loosely your neck, gripping your opposite arm to pin you against him. His free hand gripped his cock and pushed it forward until he was sliding his head between your folds.

Both of you sighed at the sensation and you gripped his arm in anticipation. You could feel his torso moving against your back as he breathed, the soft hair on his chest tickling your skin.

“You ready?” he asked and you grunted, pushing back against him again.

“Joel,” you said in a dangerously low tone. “If you’ve ever cared about me, you will stop teasing and fuck me right now.”

He laughed darkly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Yes, ma’am.”

He notched his tip at your entrance and you gasped as he pressed forward, pressing himself inside of you. It took what felt like minutes for him to bottom out, and when you felt his hips pressing against your ass, you tried to relax. The burn was intense, and you cursed yourself for not anticipating a little bit of pain after such a long dry spell. Joel held still, fingers stroking carefully over the skin of your shoulder, understanding that you needed a second.

“Fuck,” you choked out. “Joel, you’re huge.”

He let out a gravelly sound into the back of your neck, body shuddering against yours. “You’re takin’ it so well though,” he gritted out. “So tight around me, grippin’ me so good.”

He pulled back a touch before pressing back into you, and you moaned deeply. That was all the confirmation he needed to continue, pulling almost fully out of you before moving into you harder, stronger, and beginning a steady pace. Your body jolted forward with every one of his movements, but his arm around your neck held you firmly, never allowing you to go too far.

Curses drifted from your mouth, and you hid your face in his arm, biting down on the muscle of his bicep to stifle your sounds. You clenched around him suddenly and his hips stuttered forward, slamming into you in a way that made your stomach tense deliciously. He was so fucking deep, the angle allowing him to glide against your g-spot with every thrust.

“Fuckin’,” he moaned. “You’re so good, bein’ so fuckin’ good for me, aren’t you darlin’?”

You writhed in his arms, accepting the brutal pace he’d set. His skin connected with yours over and over, a satisfying smack, smack, smack sound filling the air.

“J-Joel,” you sobbed. “Oh my fucking god, I-“ He cut you off, gripping your chin and swiftly tugging your face upward so he could see you, and then his mouth was crashing down on yours. He groaned into your mouth, tongue pressing against your lips to part them and then tangling against yours. His lips were soft and wet and you didn’t even care about the odd angle your neck was twisted at as you moaned into it. His thrusts didn’t let up for a second, even as you murmured desperate sounds against each other’s lips.

“C’mon,” he grunted into your mouth. “Give me another one.” His hand dropped to grip your neck, the sensation only heightening the feeling of him inside you. Liquid heat was spreading in your abdomen, curling through your veins, turning your entire body into jelly. His free hand drifted down your stomach and then his middle finger was dragging across your clit, and a harsh cry spilled from your mouth.

“Shit,” you gasped, face contorting as you felt yourself near your end. He was fucking everywhere, holding you against him by your neck, pounding into you while his fingers circled your clit roughly, and the coil in your stomach just snapped. You yelled his name, body tensing up as he pushed into you, wet squelching sounds filling the air as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“Say my name,” his voice urged in your ear, and you happily obliged, chanting his name like a mantra as he worked your body through it. Within a minute he was groaning frantically, and then he pulled out, and you could feel his come coating your back as he finished. You glanced over your shoulder to see him. His mouth was ajar, soft curses falling from his lips as he gripped his cock, angling it towards you as he painted your skin with his spend.

“Sorry,” he rushed out breathlessly, wide eyes meeting yours. His shoulders shook with the intensity of his orgasm, adrenaline pumping through his veins, and you smiled at the sight. But he looked concerned, eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you warily.

“For what?” you frowned softly, rolling forward onto your stomach to free his arm that was trapped underneath you. “What’s wrong?”

“Came on you,” he clarified. “Should’ve asked first.”

A grin split across your face and his eyes lit up when he saw it, face relaxing again. “Ever the gentleman,” you chuckled. “It’s fine Joel, it was hot.”

His body relaxed and he dropped down to rest on his back, looking at you with a soft, curious expression. “It was,” he agreed quietly.

For a moment the pair of you just laid there, gazing at each other in a moment of wonder, before you suddenly became aware of how much colder the room was now that it was over. You shivered slightly, lifting to sit on your knees. Joel’s eyes trailed over your exposed body, gazing at your breasts, and your stomach, before resting on your face again.

“I’m gonna shower, and then hit the road,” you told him, cringing at the prominent ache between your thighs as you stepped off the bed. You picked your clothes up off the chair in the corner and turned back to look at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow night right, dinner at Maria and Tommy’s?”

He was watching you in a daze, eyelids heavy with drowsiness, but he nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he drawled. “Dinner at Maria and Tommy’s.” His eyes suddenly widened and he rolled over, reaching underneath his pillow before revealing a piece of small dark fabric. Your underwear. He held them out in your direction.

“Keep them big guy,” you winked, and he laughed deeply, dropping them back onto the bed.

You padded towards the door, ready to pop into the bathroom and then head home, before a thought struck you. Resting your shoulder against the doorway you looked at him again, smiling at the sight of him lying naked and fucked out on the bed, eyes closed as he breathed deeply. He looked about as relieved as you felt.

“Hey Joel,” you said quietly, and his eyes flashed open, raising an eyebrow at you. “Between us, right? Probably best if we don’t tell anyone else this happened.”

He nodded once, smiling lazily. “Between us.”

part two

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #fwb joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #my writing #cat's outta the bag #don't cry over spilt milk #whole new can of worms

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autumnmobile12 · 4 months

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My Hero Academia AU: Ambush Simulation

Aight, storytime:

So awhile back, I was thinking about Episodes 4 & 5 of the anime Soul Eater where the gang is tasked with capturing two villains, the zombie Sid and the guy who resurrected him, Professor Stein. (There’s also the added stakes that if they fail in this task, they’ll be expelled from school.) After a somewhat harrowing fight, defeating Sid and losing to Stein, the plot twist is this was never a real fight, Stein and Sid were not villains, and this whole thing was just a test that was orchestrated and sanctioned by the school and definitely skewed more toward hazing than actual education.

And I thought, what if that’s all the Vanguard Action Squad was during the Summer Camp Arc? Just a test orchestrated by UA that skewed more toward hazing than actual education. (Note: These are the traditional LoV members, so Muscular, Mustard, and Moonfish are not part of this line-up.) At the very least, that would probably be the meanest ruse Aizawa has pulled. And you can't tell me Principal Nezu wouldn't have been all in for this plan.

"It happened once at the USJ. Despite our precautions, it could happen again. Let's teach them how to prepare...by scaring the absolute shit out of them."

"Ambush Simulation" is playing off my earlier AU comic with Shigaraki being the adopted nephew of All Might and leading a pretty normal life. The rest of the squad is more or less in the same boat. For context, Touya’s canon divergence is he returned home after the three-year comatose and actually stayed there, but since nothing about that household environment really changed, he’s still an unhinged mess, but that is a whole other kettle of fish best saved for another comic. (Clearly getting a kick out of the prospect of scaring a bunch of kids, including his brother, half to death, though.) Toga’s home life is rocky at best after ‘the incident,’ but she’s no longer a runaway teen. Everybody else just kinda fell in with each other.

Their role as a vigilante team was inspired by the series Durarara!, specifically Kadota and his crew for anyone who's familiar. I genuinely forgot the Vigilantes spinoff existed...sigh, it's been awhile and I only recently got back in this fandom. The Vanguard is pretty much living by a 'you're only in trouble if you get caught,' philosophy. (And the nepotism has probably saved all their asses a few times because it doesn't look good for the No. 2 Hero if his eldest son is busted for vigilantism.)

Anyway, there's a few other details that I can't fit in this post, so head over here if you want to read more behind the scenes of making this thing.

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souliebird · 5 months

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[[and then I met you || ch. 10]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to protect his new family from not only Hell's Kitchen but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

Words: 4.2k

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

When Minnie was six months old, you used to sleep on the couch so you wouldn't wake her up trying to get ready for bed. It would hurt your back - your couch was not very comfortable to sleep on - but you would sacrifice your comfort so she could sleep. No one in their right mind would wake a sleeping baby - even one that was always happy to go down for a nap.

As your mind begins to stir, you become aware of the familiar ache in your lower back and the unfamiliar one pulsing around your eyes. Your hand slowly snakes up from where you had curled it against your chest and press your fingers along the bridge of your nose and up to the curve of your eyebrow, testing to see if the throbbing was sinus related. Nothing is triggered but your memories of the night before creep into your consciousness.

Minnie with her tantrum and Matt with his amazing senses.

You groan into the cushion as it all falls into place. Your eyes hurt from crying, not your sinuses, and you must have fallen asleep on the couch after your breakdown.

Shame and embarrassment course through you. You hate crying and you hate that someone witnessed it. You can't imagine what he must think of you now - losing it like that. You should have been able to handle the news far better than you had and you're going to promptly apologize the next time you talk to him. You had acted so selfishly when it was clear he had control over the situation.

But you don't have time to sit and wallow in your wretchedness - your daughter needs you to get up and be a capable adult, so you will your aching body to sit up.

Your phone is sitting on the table in front of you, so you grab it to check the time. It's half past seven and your daughter has probably been awake for at least an hour. More shame courses through you - you always try to wake up before her so you can take care of her. You can only guess what state she is in.

Your head spins as you stand, but you try to ignore it in favor of heading towards the bedroom. You prepare yourself to find a soiled bed - you didn't bother to change her into her night clothes and a pull-up and she is still mastering waking up when she needs to pee at night.

The door is partially open and as you near it, you hear her tiny voice talking nonsense as she plays with something. You take a deep breath and push into the room, ready to face the start of your day.

Your mind short-circuits at what you encounter.

Both beds are clean and made, far tidier than you usually make them, and Minnie is sat on the floor with Scooby and some of her other stuffed animals, having what looks to be a tea party. To your absolute confusion, she is already dressed, and her hair has been put into pigtails with mismatched bows. You know for a fact she can't reach where you keep her hair supplies - you put them on a high shelf after she got into them to play salon before and managed to get her hair tangled so badly you had to cut things out.

It doesn't even take her half a second to notice you and her little face breaks into the biggest smile, “Mommy!”

Still very much confused, you step forward to join the tea party circle and kneel down to be level with her. “Hi, sweetie,” you greet, trying your best to not alarm her. “Did you get dressed all by yourself?”

“Not-uh! Mister Matt helped! We watched lots of videos about hair and he made me pretty!”

You frown at that, “Mister Matt helped?” Had he stayed the night after you fell asleep? If so, where is he now? Your apartment isn't that big, and the bathroom door is open. Had he left before you woke up? You don’t like the idea of him leaving Minnie unsupervised.

Your daughter nods as she turns back to her toys, pretending to pour you a cup of tea and handing it over. You automatically pretend to take a sip.

“He helped make me pretty,” she confirms after putting her tea pot down, “now he's getting foods. Bagels!”

You turn the statement over in your mind - there is a bagel shop around the corner Minnie loves and if Matt is right about her also having enhanced abilities, maybe, just maybe, he didn't leave her unwatched.

You bite your lip, then dare to push.

“Mouse, do you think you can tell me where Mister Matt is right now? Can you hear him?”

She doesn't acknowledge you right away, fussing with another piece of her tea set. You wait, allowing her to process what is being asked of her and watch as she slowly starts to move her head in minute movements, like she's tracking something. It's terrifying and fascinating to see a look of concentration come over her face and after about thirty seconds, she breaks into another big smile.

“He's talking to a frog!”

“A frog..?” You ask, wondering if Matt was wrong about Minnie having heightened senses and she's playing pretend again.

“Yeah, he says…he says.. He's telling froggy he can't go to work. He's gonna stay with us!”

It clicks instantly. Matt isn't talking to a frog. He's talking to his business partner, Foggy Nelson, and as far as you know, Matt hasn't mentioned him or Karen yet by name to Minnie.

“Can you tell where he is?” You ask again, being sure to be gentle with your question.

“Outside,” is her response, like it is the most obvious thing in the world. “Froggies can't come inside. Do you want sugar?” She holds up her toy spoon and you offer her your tea cup.

“Yes, please.”

She pretends to scoop sugar and you watch her in amazement. You are of course going to have to confirm that Matt was talking to Foggy, but it is so hard to believe your little one can hear that. You can't hear what is going on in your own living room, let alone outside your apartment. You cannot imagine how loud everything must be, how much input Mouse must be getting - but she doesn't seem bothered by it at all right now.

She seems to be completely over her tantrum from yesterday and you want to ask her about it, but you aren't sure how or if she has the ability to express it. You know there are days you get overwhelmed and upset and you can't think of another way to explain it other than “too much”. You can't expect a three year old to articulate it better than you can.

She's got a sweet little smile and part of you fears if you bring up her previous upset, it will spiral right back into a meltdown. So, you watch instead - watch as she goes back to playing make pretend with her toys, seemingly unbothered. You sip at your tea, making up a list of questions for Matt when he returns from his errand.

Minnie plays for about five minutes before she perks up, beaming up at you, “Mister Matt asks if you can open the door, please thank you."

Her statement throws you for a moment and you aren't sure how much you like the idea of her being able to tell you all these things. It scares you - her knowing things you don't and not knowing what she does know.

Maybe it is one of the things you and Matt can talk about - then talk about it with your sweet Mouse. You are going to have to get used to it, either way.

You push yourself into standing and motion for Minnie to come along. She scrambles up and runs out of the room, delighted laughter following her.

You are still in your clothes from the night before and you wish you had taken a moment to check your hair or even brush your teeth. You try to tell yourself it is fine, but your anxiety just argues back, and you feel like a complete slob by the time you get to the front door.

Your stomach and heart both do a funny clench at the sight of Matt, who is still sporting his borrowed shirt. You don't know if you want to fall into his arms or throw up or go hide under your covers so you can pretend all of this is a dream. Instead, you step aside so he can come inside and silently beg your mind to stop collapsing in on itself.

“Breakfast delivery,” Matt says as a greeting, his entire face lighting up with a smile. He's holding a bag from the shop around the corner in one hand and a drink carrier with two large drinks along with a small one in his other.

You can feel your face starting to heat up and force your eyes down to the ground, mumbling, “you didn't need to do that.”

He shrugs as he toes off his shoes, “I wanted to, and someone,” his voice turns teasing as he directs his next comments to Minnie, “wouldn't stop talking about bagels.”

Your daughter erupts into giggles, then turns and runs back towards the kitchen. Matt gives a pleased laugh, and your stomach flips again. He follows Minnie, and after you relock the door, you join them.

They are sitting at the dining table, Mouse watching with a big smile as bagels are laid out on the table. Matt narrates for both of you, “Three egg bagels with plain cream cheese, two large coffees, and one kid’s hot chocolate. Now, is that the right order or was someone taking advantage?”

Minnie giggles more and that relaxes your shoulders. “No, that's right. Thank you, you really didn't -” You cut yourself off as you realize the table is clear of any mess from the night before. There are no plates on the table or in the sink, there's no lasagna stains on the floor, there's no leftovers sitting out. Your eyes drift to Matt.

He must have cleaned after you had fallen asleep. Guilt courses through you - he shouldn't have to be dealing with your messes, especially in your own living space. You are going to need to not only apologize but return the favor somehow. You aren't sure how you'll do that - no one has ever done this much for you before, and Matt has done so so much in such a short time.

You're dragged from your thoughts as a coffee is placed in front of you.

“It's just black, I didn't know how you took it,” the kind, handsome lawyer says, and your heartbeat is so loud in your ears. It beats harder when you remember that not only can he hear your body and mind freaking out, but so can your daughter.

Your instinct tells you to panic at the idea of someone knowing that much about you. You always try to stay calm on the outside while having a meltdown, but that doesn't matter with him. He'll know you're a mess. You can't hide it.

You hear Matt ask Minnie something about her tea party and watch as she skips away from the table, but it's like your mind doesn't process it. You feel completely frozen because you don't know how to act - you don't know how to hide yourself from the man in front of you. You don't know how to hide yourself away from your daughter.

How can you protect her from yourself? Your own body?

Suddenly, Matt is in front of you, cupping your cheeks with his large, warm hands and whispering your name. He's practically right on top of you, gently rubbing his thumbs over your skin, “Hey, hey, it's okay. It's okay. Everything is okay. Can you take a deep breath for me?”

“What?” You ask, so confused about what is going on. You don't understand why he's saying it's okay.

“A deep breath, sweetheart. Can you take a deep breath?”

Your mind will not wrap the reason for the instruction, but you do as you are told. You inhale through your nose and that earns you a soft smile. He continues to pet you, gently instructing you to exhale after a moment and you obey.

“Again?” He prompts and you nod. You feel shaky as you try to focus on breathing. You've always hated these exercises - they've never worked for you and have only served to frustrate you, and now you are just trying to make sure you are doing it right. How embarrassing would it be to fuck up breathing in front of Matt?

“That's it,” he says so calmly, “Just breathe. I know it's a lot. I know. One step at a time. Let's have some breakfast, okay? Let's sit and have coffee and we can all talk. How's that sound?”

It sounds good, it sounds like the right thing to do, but your throat is clenching and not wanting to produce words, so you nod instead.

You close your eyes to try to center yourself and somehow calm down. Matt lingers, keeping a hold of you until you hear Minnie coming back to the kitchen. It seems like he waits until the last possible moment before pulling away.

Seeing your daughter looking so happy helps to reset your mind. She's fetched Scooby and Pig and runs up to the table to put them in their chair. You smile at the sight.

She really does seem like she's perfectly fine and maybe Matt is right and everything is okay. For now, at least.

You force yourself into action, moving to set one of the bagels in front of Mouse, setting it on a napkin. You're going to need to transfer the hot chocolate into a mug or Mouse will spill on herself.

“Thank you, Mommy!”

She practically dives into her bagel, picking it up and taking a big bite and getting cream cheese on her cheeks. She is completely engrossed with her food.

“Thank Mister Matt, he got us breakfast,” you advise before going to get a napkin. While you are in the kitchen, you grab your creamer from the fridge.

“Thank you, Mister Matt!” she chimes before barreling on. “Mommy, did you know Mister Matt can braid hairs!”

Guilt courses through you and you remind yourself you need to thank Matt for everything he has done for you. But you tell yourself to not think of it right now - you are terrified of Minnie sensing your panic and that somehow shuts your mind down and you go into parent mode.

“No, I didn't. Did you ask him to braid your hair?” You ask as you move in to wipe her face. She obediently tilts her face towards you and closes her eyes as you clean away the cream cheese. In the corner of your eye you see Matt sip from his coffee, a smile forming in his lips.

“She wanted puffs,” he advises, “I learned a lot of new hair terminology today. Minnie is a very good teacher.”

Your daughter preens at the praise before taking another bite of her bagel. More cream cheese gets on her face. You decide to wait until she's done eating before tidying her up again. It will be pointless otherwise.

Instead, you start to fix your coffee, removing the lid to add creamer. You eye your daughter as you do, letting yourself finally take in her appearance.

“You're a good stylist,” you tell Matt, and it is true. Her pigtails look even and as smooth as can be expected for a toddler. You don't see any tangles and if Minnie is happy, you have no grievances with the outcome - only guilt that Matt was the one who dealt with it.

“I have some experience,” he hums, before taking another sip of his coffee. Then he directs his smile to his daughter, “my best friend used to have long hair. He has little nieces and they used to do his hair at Christmas, and I got roped into helping. I'm told I do a pretty good French braid.”

Mouse giggles before gasping and pointing at you, “do Mommy's hair!”

Embarrassment floods you - you don't think anyone has done your hair since you were Minnie’s age, and your current hair is a gross greasy mess and you don't want anyone touching it.

Matt hums as he tilts his head towards you, “I think Mommy is better at doing her hair than I would be. But maybe next time?”

“Maybe next time,” you agree, hoping that will be enough to deter your daughter from this path.

Luckily, she quickly parrots, “Next time!”

You offer her a smile and take a much needed drink of your coffee. It not only warms you but helps to ground you back into reality.

You remind yourself nothing has actually changed - you are just more aware of the world. To Minnie, this is the same as any other day and you need to get yourself back on track.

Which means you need to confirm some things with Matt.

You set your coffee down, then pick up Minnie’s hot chocolate and bring it to the kitchen to transfer into one of her kid-friendly tumblers. You clear your throat, then dare to try, “Minnie said you'd be spending the day with us?”

“You told the froggy!” Mouse happily adds.

Matt looks confused for a few seconds before it must click, “Foggy, sweetheart, not Froggy. Foggy is my best friend - the one who had long hair.”

“Froggy!” Is the defiant response and you know better than to argue. Once something is named, the name sticks. But of course, Matt doesn't know this and you decide to let him learn.

“Foggy,” he tries. “Like a cloud. Not a frog.”

“Froggy!”

“Fog. Foggy. No ‘r’.”

“Frog. Froggy! Froggy! Froggy!” Minnie bounces in her seat, starting to giggle. You return to the table, securing the lid to the sippy tumbler before placing it down.

“Ribbit ribbit,” you add and that gets you a delighted burst of laughter.

“Ribbit ribbit!”

Matt practically pouts but seems to realize he isn't going to win this. “But yes, I… told Foggy I wanted to spend the day with you. When I was in the phone, outside.” His dramatic sad face turns into something soft as he tilts his head towards Minnie, “Did you tell your Mommy you heard me?”

“I, uh, asked if she could,” you say, feeling silly for admitting it. But you know this is the path you need to take to start understanding what enhanced senses mean.

“I can hear everything,” your little one proudly says, and you've heard her say it before - but now you know she isn't just playing pretend.

“Yes, you can,” is Matt's soft reply. Unlike your underlying panic, his voice seems to carry a fondness about the whole situation. He is the one with the experience and you want to trust him with the lead on this, but it's still absolutely terrifying.

But you know you need to set the ball up, so you gently push, “Did you know Mister Matt can also hear…everything?” You know it's not everything, at least by what Matt said, but you aren't going to get technical with a toddler. “Mommy can't, though. Mommy’s hearing isn't as good as yours and Mister Matt's.”

Mouse looks between the two of you, pursing her lips up as she thinks, then she reaches out and pats your arm comfortingly, “I'll tell you what I hears, Mommy.”

Your heart soars with so much love and you turn your hand so you can take hers and give it a gentle squeeze, “Thank you, baby.”

“I can hears a bark-bark dog and a woofy dog,” she starts, “and there's a puppy going ‘yip-yip-yip!’”

Matt laughs a little and your focus is ripped away from Minnie and over to him. He absolutely beams at you, looking proud as can be. You wonder what this like for him - having someone else who can hear what he can.

“There's a doggy day care about two blocks north,” he informs, and it is so hard to wrap your mind around the fact your daughter can hear that far. “Clients are starting to arrive, and they are lively.”

There's a flash of brown and Minnie is waving Scooby at Matt, “Bark bark bark!”

“Is Scooby a barky dog?” He asks, leaning forward towards her and putting his elbows on the table. “Not a woofy dog?”

“Bark bark!” Is the response before Mouse makes him growl. You finally allow yourself to sit and watch the sweet interaction. Everything still feels like it's too much and swirling inside you, but seeing Matt and Minnie bond is soothing - even if it's over something you can't understand yet.

“What about Pig? Does he go bark-bark or woofy?”

His question gets Minnie to gasp as if she's scandalized. “Pig isn't a doggy!”

“Oh, he isn't?” Matt teases, “I can't see him. What is he?”

“He's a piggy!” She snatches up Pig and clutches him to her chest beside Scooby. You hope she doesn't have cream cheese on her fingers because cleaning her toys is always an adventure. She hates when they have to get washed and now, you guess, you understand why. They probably smell different after being washed or the texture is off. It's something you'll have to explore later.

“What type of noises do piggies make?”

“Oink-oink-oink!”

“Oh, that makes sense,” he hums, then hunches forward more and lowers his voice, like he's talking in secret, “And what sounds do little girls named Minnie make?”

You finally get to take a bite of your bagel as you watch her contemplate the question. Her face screws up in thought before lighting up when she decides her answer.

“Ooogie-boogie-boo!”

Matt throws his head back with laughter, which makes Minnie dissolve into happy giggles. The sheer joy between the two of them pulls a smile out of you and the heaviness in your chest starts to lighten more.

“Ooogie-boogie-boo?” You question and your daughter giggles more.

“Ooogie-boogie-boo! Like Scooby!”

You don't understand what that means but you just let the positivity continue.

“What about Mommy? What sounds do I make?” You ask, curious what her response will be.

“Bumbum-bumbum.” They aren't words, but you instantly get it is supposed to be your heartbeat. You feel yourself start to flush. Matt had told you that Minnie listens to your heart to ground herself, so of course that is what she associates you with. But hearing it from her mouth and getting that confirmation still rocks you.

“It's a good sound, isn't it?” Matt asks Minnie and you can imagine how red you are turning. You try to hide behind your coffee.

“The bestest,” Minnie agrees before adding, “After Scooby Song. Scooby Dooby Do! Where are you!”

“We've got some work to do now,” you half mumble, half sing with her.

“I've never heard the Scooby song,” the man beside you says and that triggers Mouse into action. She slides off her chair, and still clutching her toys, hurries across the room to the television. She knows how to bring up what she wants, so it only takes a few seconds before there is an episode starting to play on screen.

She drops her toys and the remote before running back to Matt and tugging on his - technically yours - shirt. “You gotta listen!”

He barely gets to stand up before being pulled into the living room. He does not resist in the slightest to being directed to sit on the ground and you watch as Minnie begins to explain the intricate lore of her favorite show. To your wonder she describes each character by their voice first and you can tell Matt is completely enthralled by what he is being told. Scooby gets moved from laying on the floor to being shoved into Matt's lap so he can hold onto him.

You realize without fanfare that you can barely hear the television. It is still on low volume from last time you had it on, and it dawns on you that you never really have it turned up too loud. Minnie can probably hear it just fine and doesn't need it blasting throughout the apartment. You never got to really watch television as a kid, and you wonder what the normal volume for watching things is supposed to be.

You sip at your coffee, watching as Minnie plops herself next to Matt on the floor, going on excitedly about mysteries and different sounds. Both of them are smiling and laughing like they don't have a care in the world.

This is what you want your life to be like, you decide.

You want your family to be full of love and joy and you have fought so hard to get to this point. You've climbed your way out of a cold and distant household to make your own little corner in the world and right now you need to enjoy it instead of letting your mind be taken over by darkness and despair.

So, you set your coffee down and move to join your daughter and her father in front of the television, asking in a teasing voice, “So who is the blonde man again?”

tags:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare @mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium

two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04 @ astridstark13

#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock

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stamplover · 1 year

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familiar animals series no. 2 & 3 stamps

#familiar animals #Familiar Animals (Series 2)#Familiar Animals (Series 3)#animals #cats #kittens #bunnies #birds #hamsters #gerbils #postal stamps #postage stamps #stamp #stamp collecting #stamps #2016 #japan #images #heart stamps

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noneorother · 5 months

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The secret timeline inside of Good Omens season 2 revealed, *part1*

Part 1 l Part 2

If you’ve ever watched a ballet or an opera, you know how the rhythm in the music is used throughout to determine not only the movements of the dancers, but also when lines are sung or spoken. This is almost unheard of in television, but what if I told you it was hidden in season 2 of Good Omens? If one were to, say, meticulously cut together only the scenes set in the present day into one big timeline, you would get one long video that is exactly 2 hours 22 minutes 00 seconds and 00 frames long. An ineffable cut that is so perfect it defies all logic. (I’ve burnt a timecode into this ineffable edit to help pick up the rhythm.)

Even though there are large swathes of the second season with no music, there is a constant tempo weaving its way through the show: What if the seconds ticking by in the runtime itself was the music? Here’s an example of what I found. Behold a supercut of every single time Shax shows up, or Hell is mentioned in series 2 in the ineffable edit. They always arrive on a 6 in the time stamp (ex: 00:XX:X6).

(SOUND ON is an absolute must here, otherwise you won't hear any of the triggers)

Shax rings Crowley on a XX:X6. Shax miracles herself into the car on a XX:X6. Shax knocks on windows on a XX:X6. Shax’s big scary moment at the bookshop happens at 66 minutes exactly (lol). Crowley calls out for Shax on a XX:X6. Beelzebub starts spewing flies on a 6. People mention hell and it’s always on XX:X6 etc. etc…(Bonus: I also left in Maggie flipping the damned the double-bird on a XX:X6) I’ve also left in the only appearance of Shax or hell at all in the whole series that isn’t tied to a six: the park bench scene with Crowley. Shax seems to be off by one line, showing up on a XX:10, then back to XX:X6 on her second reply: “Bills, mostly”. I can only theorise that this scene, while technically in season 2, is not supposed to *be* in season 2 (even just judging by the trees, sun and the overcoats, it’s not summer like in the rest of the season). And it’s not only sixes! Every time I go through I find more and more little beats that line up exactly with ineffable timings. I can only do one video per post, so I’ll have to cut it up into sections, but Gabriel, doors, car horns, bird calls, Aziraphale, food, drinks, Angels, dialogue, Maggie, Nina, jokes, clocks, bells… The list goes on and on.

Neil called this season “The bridge”

Because we all know how much Neil loves double meanings and wordplay, I just have to ponder the idea that when Neil said this season was “the bridge” between seasons 1 and 3, he meant it double-literally. First, as in the bridge Aziraphale and Crowley have to cross in order to get them into position for the second coming. We even see the physical manifestation of this bridge leading everyone in the background of the opening credits. But this season is also a bridge in the sense that it’s a musical section that introduces new ideas or material in the middle of a song. This whole season is the music that deviates from the familiar, and re-contextualizes the chorus and the verses so we can appreciate them in a new way.

Let’s not forget that 2:22 is also exactly the same timing as this (and only this) track from the good omens s2 album (read all about the soundtrack here):

Why is this so bonkers? I think GOS2 might be the first ever “Total” series of television.

Having everything in the series timed and choreographed would actually make it a very faithful adaptation of the Powell & Pressburger film The Tales of Hoffmann (read about the movie and it’s effect on all of s2 here). If you watch the tales of Hoffman, you will realize that the entire film is actually done more like animation, with the music and vocals all performed in a studio, mixed and edited first, and then the actors came back to act out their choreographed and lip-synched parts for the cameras afterwards. The result is "Total film": a movie that feels more like a ballet, with every movement, action, and line happening in time with the music. As far as I can tell, very few films have ever attempted this, with The Tales of Hoffmann and Playtime being the only two “complete” films I could find in this style. (The Red shoes has one section, and An American In Paris has a few)

“Why would ambitious filmmakers simply film an opera? Many admirers of the work of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger have assumed that their decision to make The Tales of Hoffmann (…) was in some way an admission(…) that they couldn’t go on making their edgy, over-the-top melodramas after the rejection and interference they’d suffered, (but) there’s a case for considering The Tales of Hoffmann as one of the finest and boldest works that Powell and Pressburger produced, so far ahead of its time as a wholly “composed” film... Late in his life, Powell himself said that he thought it was one of the best films that he and Pressburger had made.” - Criterion review, Tales of Hoffmann

Here’s a simple example from An American in Paris

youtube

If season 2 *is* scripted and choreographed to line up with specific timings, I’m pretty sure that would make this the first ever “total” or “composed” season of television ever attempted. Not only does this take an ASTOUNDING amount of planning, scripting and editing finesse, not to mention a completely controlled set, it takes a real understanding of how to perform as an actor using rhythm and metre, which would go a long way to explain why all of the main actors coming back for season 2, with the exception of John Hamm, are well regarded theatre performers, (especially of Shakespeare).

I’ll leave you with one last surprise I found in the discovery of the ineffable edit: remember Aziraphale’s smile at the very end if the credits? It happens on 02:23:03, as the first step off the bridge, and into season 3.

I will have much more in the next ineffable timeline post. Stay tuned…

__________________________________________

Thanks for reading all the way to the end. It’s taken me a solid month to get this perfect. There are so many hidden cuts and jumps to take into account, and I had a frame rate issue that kept exporting to 29fps instead of 25fps, but I’ve finally nailed the ineffable timeline enough that I am confident sharing in it.

Credits to @thebluestgreen and @embracing-the-ineffable for all the support and help with editing and just general good vibes.

#good omens 2 #good omens meta #good omens season two #art director talks good omens #go season 2 #go meta #good omens season 2 #crowley x aziraphale #good omens spoilers #good omens analysis #good omens

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persevereforahappyending · 3 months

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Maybe in Another Life |1|

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Hunter of Artemis!Reader

Summary: You are a Hunter of Artemis, but you start to question what you truly want when you meet Clarisse and get to know her.

Warnings: Slight Titans Curse Spoilers

Word Count: 3.7k

Note: This will be following more of the book plot specifically 3-5 so there will be slight spoilers as this goes on. If you've read the books, it will be obvious that I've shifted the timeline slightly.

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6

You were in position, arrow at the ready as you waited in the trees. Your sisters were around you, scattered throughout the woods as they awaited orders just like you. You watched as a couple kids fought the manticore, fought was being generous, they seemed to be losing. They were trying to protect some kids but ended up finding themselves caught between the monster and a helicopter, humans never knew when to mind their own business.

Finally, the horn sounded, your goddess gave the order and you and your sisters let your arrows fly. Every single one of your arrows pierced into the monster, into his arms, his legs, and yours found a home in his neck. You couldn’t help but smirk as you watched him stumble back.

The manticore roared, eyeing the woods, he didn’t need to see you to know you were there. He fired his spikes aimlessly into the woods, hoping to hit at least one of you. You smirked at seeing the spikes coming directly at you before notching another arrow and letting it fly. You and your sisters’ arrows intercepted every single one of the monsters’ spikes perfectly, disintegrating them in the air.

All the kids looked around confused, trying to see through the darkness of the trees. You and your sisters were never seen though, not unless you wanted to be seen. Your goddess signaled for you to show yourselves, you all rushed forward, ready to end the monster. Zoe was given the order to take the shot but one of the girls that had been originally fighting it jumped on its back, compromising Zoe’s shot.

You all waited, bows at the ready to get a kill shot of the monster, then Zoe finally gave the order. Once again you and your sisters let your arrows fly, each one nailing the monster in the chest and neck. The monster staggered back but he wasn’t down yet, he let out another roar before quickly jumping over the cliff, the girl still on his back.

“Annabeth!” one of the boys yelled, running forward as if he was going to follow her over the edge.

Your goddess mumbled something about mortals not being allowed to witness her hunt, then she raised her hand and the helicopter that had been hovering over them turned into a flock of birds. You smiled, shaking your head as you looked up where the helicopter had been, oh how you loved it when she turned people and things into animals.

“Zoe Nightshade,” someone said. You turned to see Zoe standing toe to toe with one of the kids you all had saved. When you got closer you couldn’t help but smirk, recognizing the girl.

“Thalia Grace,” Zoe said with an eyeroll.

“Well, well, well,” you said, slinging an arm around Zoe as you approached the group. “Look who’s no longer a tree.”

“Y/N,” Thalia said with an eyeroll.

You smiled; Thalia wasn’t your biggest fan, but she hated you a lot less than she did Zoe. Unlike Zoe you hadn’t done anything to directly make enemies with Thalia, she wasn’t the biggest fan of Hunters after her last encounter with all of you, but you also just tended to rub people the wrong way. Most people found you too intense and arrogant.

“Four half-bloods and a satyr my lady,” Zoe said, informing Artemis of the kids you just saved. You rolled your eyes, Zoe, always being so formal.

“Some of Chiron’s campers, I see,” Artemis said, approaching the group.

“Annabeth!” the boy screamed again. You furrowed your brow, that name sounded familiar. Your eyes flitted back to Thalia, that’s when it clicked, Annabeth had been the little girl traveling with Thalia and that boy from a few years ago. “You have to let us go after her!”

“I’m sorry, Percy Jackson, but your friend is beyond help.” You tilted her head at Artemis, she was great at recruiting young girls to the Hunt, but she really wasn’t the best with people, which was saying something because her and her brother were the most ingrained in the mortal realm, walking amongst humans more than any of the other gods.

Your ears perked up at the boy’s name, tilting your head at the one you now knew as Percy Jackson. You had heard of him, everyone had heard about him, son of Poseidon, another child of the prophecy. You looked from him to Thalia, realizing a child of Zeus and Poseidon now walked the earth again, either one of them could be the one from the great prophecy.

“Who do you think you are?” Percy questioned. You raised an eyebrow at the boys’ guts, he clearly had no idea who he was talking to.

“Watch your tone,” Zoe snapped, shaking your arm off her, quickly throwing a glare over her shoulder at you as she approached the boy.

You shook your head with a smirk. Zoe was your goddesses second and she was technically older than you, born a whole thousand years before you even. Physically though, she looked younger, she was stuck at the young age of fourteen whereas you were frozen at seventeen, meaning, you loved to treat her like a little sister.

“It’s okay,” Artemis said. “I sense no disrespect, Zoe.” She stepped forward so she could stare Percy in the eyes, but she never offered him a hand. “I am Artemis, goddess of the Hunt.”

“You’re a goddess, why can’t you go after Annabeth?” Percy asked once again, clearly having a one-track mind.

“She is gone, can’t you sense it?” You sighed, it was obvious the boy couldn’t sense it, he probably had no idea what he’d even be trying to sense.

“Gone? What do you mean gone?”

“Some sort of magic,” Artemis looked around, confused as to what kind of magic could make the girl disappear. “She’s vanished. But trust, if she can be found, I will find her.”

Percy didn’t seem happy about her answer, but he grumbled, having to accept that there was no way he’d be able to go after his friend. The conversation quickly turned to the two kids the half-bloods had been protecting, Nico and Bianca, orphans, demigods, their parent unknown. Nico seemed very into the idea of being related to a Greek god, it was a little concerning how excited he was. Bianca on the other hand had a more reasonable reaction, it was hard for her to deny the truth though after being attacked by a Manticore.

Artemis ordered for camp to be set up while she talked to Bianca. Zoe smirked as soon as Bianca agreed to the conversation while Thalia glared at her. You knew Thalia’s feelings on what was about to be discussed but at least she had the decency to hold her tongue this time. When Nico asked if he could join, Artemis had the decency to redirect his attention to the satyr friend of the demigods, Nico didn’t seem to realize he was being pawned off, all too happy to talk about his little figures and game with the satyr.

You made yourself scarce, moving as far away from the others as you helped set up camp. As you walked away you could already hear the bickering between Percy and Thalia starting, it seemed the friend they lost had been their mediator, it was only a matter of time before they tried to kill each other without her. You and your sisters worked effortlessly, the motions of setting up camp having become second nature, even without any sort of magic you had the whole campsite set up in minutes. One of your sisters blew the whistle, signaling for the wolves to come out. You glanced up to see Thalia and Zoe now bickering, you shook your head then went back to more important matters, giving treats to the wolves.

You watched as Zoe approached Percy then led him into the tent you knew Artemis was residing in. Zoe gave you a nod as they passed, you gave one in return before giving the rest of the treats to the wolf. You quickly brushed off your hands and followed behind Zoe and Percy. Once in the tent Percy took a seat next to Bianca, Zoe took a seat on Artemi’s right and you stood behind your goddess on the left. You eyed your guests, Bianca looking deep in thought, barely registering that Percy had sat next to her, her mind most likely playing over all the benefits of Artemis’s offer.

You stood dutifully to the side as Artemis explained her whole deal to Percy, he seemed confused by the whole ‘rejecting romantic love’ thing, he couldn’t fathom the idea of why someone would ever accept that. He wasn’t disrespectful about it though, you would give him that, most men when they stumbled upon Artemis or the Hunters they didn’t understand, didn’t try to understand, and it always cost them, Artemis made sure of that. You couldn’t help but smirk when Percy’s eyes widened when Artemis and Zoe started talking about the last boy to have seen your camp and how Artemis had turned him into a jackelope. Her turning boys into jackelopes was secretly one of your favorite things, there was a part of you that always hoped a boy would stumble upon your camp and she’d turn him into an animal.

You zoned out a bit, making sure you could still hear the conversation around you. Percy was filling in Artemis on the manticore and what he had said before you and your sisters arrived. Percy’s details were vague and confusing, but Bianca clearly had the better memory and helped fill in the gaps or correct Percy on wording if he got it wrong. You didn’t fully tune back into the conversation until Artemis said she must hunt this new monster.

“We’ll leave right away, my lady,” Zoe said. You stood at attention ready to follow them into the next hunt.

“No, Zoe. I must do this alone,” Artemis said. She glanced back at you to make sure you knew she was serious. You frowned, Artemis may have been a goddess but the idea of her going off and hunting this unknown monster didn’t settle right with you. Despite your reservations you honored your goddesses’ wishes and kept your mouth shut.

“But, Artemis-” Zoe did not keep her mouth shut.

“This task is too dangerous even for the Hunters. You know where I must start my search. You cannot go there with me.”

“As… as you wish, my lady.”

Zoe also having reservations about Artemis going off on her own didn’t settle your uneasiness. Zoe was a rule follower, she was the type of kid you hated because she’d rather follow rules than do something fun. You always followed your goddesses’ orders but that didn’t mean you didn’t like to have fun. Usually, you were the one arguing with Artemis, respectfully, and Zoe would snap at you.

You continued to remain silent through the following conversation until Artemis asked Percy to escort the Hunters to camp Half-Blood. While once again Zoe went to argue with Artemis, you could only groan. You knew there would be no swaying Artemis on this decision, with her going off on a mission so dangerous that she didn’t even want her Hunters by her side, there was no question that she’d want to know you were all safe. As much as you hated camp half-blood, one of the only things Zoe and you ever agreed on, you had to admit it was the safest place for all of you.

You smirked when Artemis mentioned them having rebuilt the cabins that got burnt down last time because of the Hunters. “That was a fun time,” you mumbled. Artemis flicked you a glare and you raised your hands, silently agreeing to not set cabins on fire this time, at least you’d try to. You couldn’t make that promise and she knew that, the campers just had a way of irritating the Hunters, it wasn’t your fault with how you and your sisters reacted.

“Have you made up your mind, my girl?” Artemis asked, looking at Bianca.

Your eyes shifted to the younger girl, you knew before you all came into the tent that Artemis had been informing the girl of what it meant to be a Hunter and offering her a place. Percy’s eyes widened in shock, and he instantly tried to convince Bianca joining the Hunters wasn’t the answer by telling her how much fun camp was. Zoe was quick to shut that down by telling him being a Hunter can offer much more than camp ever could, such as immortality, and they’d be immortal unless they fell in battle, or they broke their oath.

“What oath?”

“To foreswear romantic love forever,” Artemis answered. “To never grow up, never get married. To be a maiden eternally.”

Percy’s mouth hung open as he seemed unable to process why anyone would choose that. You continued to remain silent while Zoe snapped at him telling him Artemis didn’t discriminate by birth and you all weren’t demigods. Which was true, Artemis accepted any girl into the Hunters, demigods, nymphs, mortals, literally anyone as long as they were willing to take and honor the oath. For those that broke the oath though… Artemis might have been one of the kindest gods around, but she was also one of the most unforgiveable, you had personally seen what could happen if a Hunter broke their oath.

Percy tried a new tactic, telling Bianca how Nico wouldn’t be able to become a Hunter. Artemis agreed with that but mentioned how Bianca could still see him every now and then. Bianca looked down at her hands, going over everything. Taking the oath and choosing to follow Artemis wasn’t an easy decision, especially to someone so young, you had seen many girls take it out of impulse and then fail to honor the oath later on. Artemis would accept any girl willing to take the oath at any age, she tended to like them younger though, before they could fall for boys and fall in love with someone. You were a rare case in that regard, you took the oath at seventeen and though some closer to the same age or even older than you had taken the oath before they never ended up keeping it.

You could understand Bianca’s predicament, you hadn’t had any siblings, at least you didn’t think you did. You had been with Artemis for a thousand years and you didn’t have many memories of your life before then, everything from that time slowly fading. You had seen girls with siblings take the oath before, it always took its toll on them. Artemis would allow the girls to visit their siblings from time to time, but time was always scarce, it could be a visit every few years and not last more than a day and while the girls would remain the same age forever, their siblings would age and eventually die.

“Is it worth it?” Bianca finally spoke up, looking at Zoe.

“It is,” Zoe answered. No one was more proud to be a Hunter than Zoe, it was why she had been with Artemis so long, it was why your goddess chose her as her second.

Bianca shifted her gaze to you. This happened almost every time, before a girl agreed she’d look to Zoe and you, you were physically the oldest and Bianca had been at Artemis’s side the longest, with you following right after. If anyone clearly thought this life was worth it, then it was the two of you.

“It might get weird hanging out with a bunch of people at least three years younger than me,” you joked, earning you a glare from Zoe. “But I have never regretted my decision.”

Bianca nodded, taking in both your and Zoe’s answers. “What do I have to do?” she asked, looking at your goddess.

“Say this,” Zoe said. “ ‘I pledge myself to the goddess Artemis.’ ”

“I pledge myself to the goddess Artemis,” Bianca repeated.

“ ‘I turn my back on the company of men, accept eternal maidenhood, and join the Hunt.’ ”

“I turn my back on the company of men, accept eternal maidenhood, and join the Hunt.”

“Now, once lady Artemis accepts the pledge it will be binding.”

“I accept,” Artemis said.

You smiled at your new sister as Artemis and Zoe welcomed her. It was a big decision to make but the second Artemis accepted the pledge you could see Bianca physically relax. Bianca loved her brother, you gathered that much but not knowing their godly parent and growing up orphans for so long meant Bianca had to grow up fast, she spent her life making sure her brother was okay and doing what was best for him, never getting to choose something solely for herself.

You had to hold in another groan when Percy asked how all of you were getting to camp when Artemis informed him, she was going to ask Apollo. Zoe once again didn’t hide her distaste for the situation and did groan, thankfully she didn’t try and argue with Artemis about this. When you all left the tent and packed up camp, Zoe stood on Artemis’s right, her arms crossed as she glared up at the dark sky, just waiting for the sun god to show himself. You couldn’t help but silently chuckle at her.

You laughed at Artemis’s complaints about her brother always being lazy. When the sunrise eventually came a sports car came speeding down from the sky, parking not too far from your group. Apollo jumped out of his car happily greeting his sister, much to her annoyance, before waving a flirtation grin at all of you, like usual. Zoe glared at him, you rolled your eyes, and the other Hunters took a few steps back, getting as far away from him as possible.

You waited as Artemis asked her brother to take all of you to camp, watching as he quickly turned his sports car into a large bus. He smiled widely, gesturing at the giant bus. The Hunters quickly shuffled forward, throwing all their gear into the bus before making their way on it and all the way to the back.

“Here, sweetheart. Let me get that,” Apollo said, smirking at Zoe as he tried to help her with her gear. Zoe quickly ripped her bag away from him, clenching a fist.

“Brother,” Artemis chided, preventing Zoe from decking the sun god in the face. “You do not help my Hunters. And you do not call them sweetheart.”

Apollo sighed dramatically, holding up his arms as Zoe passed by, making sure to bump him in the shoulder on the way. Zoe followed the other Hunters, making her way straight to the back of the bus.

Apollo smiled widely when his eyes landed on you. You had your bag slung over your shoulder with one hand, looking unamused as he approached you. “Hello gorgeous,” he said, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “how’s my favorite Hunter doing?” Apollo smirked. You scoffed, rolling your eyes before elbowing him in the gut. He groaned but quickly recovered and threw his arm back around you, leading you onto the bus.

You were the only Hunter to not have complete disdain for him. Despite finding him annoying you were also the only one to entertain him. At first Artemis would always chastise him when he would flirt with you but after a few hundred years of never being swayed and only seeming amused by his failed attempts she eventually let it slide, she knew you’d never break your oath for her brother or any guy. Apollo also took the form of someone around your age, and you had to admit it was nice having that around sometimes.

“Okay, so who’s driving?” Apollo asked once you were all on the bus. He looked back at your sisters, you followed his gaze to see them all pressed together on the back bench, practically sitting on top of each other to get as far away from him and Percy as possible. You decided to humor him and take a seat up front with him, Percy, Thalia, Grover, and Nico.

Percy mumbled he was only fourteen when Apollo looked at him. He then looked at you, wiggling his eyebrows as he smirked. You answered him by scoffing, crossing your arms and turning your attention out the window. He then turned to Thalia who reluctantly took a seat behind the wheel.

After getting off to a rough start you had a death grip on the seat, glaring at Apollo as he casually shouted directions at Thalia. Percy was gripping the back of Thalia’s seat as he yelled directions at her as well, for someone who couldn’t drive he sure had a lot of opinions on what she should do. You weren’t sure what was worse, the fourteen-year-old yelling directions or the fifteen-year-old driving who had been a tree less than six months ago.

Thalia turned the wheel sharply, crashing you all right into the lake at camp half-blood. Everyone flung forward with a groan. You looked up to see Thalia gripping the steering wheel as she stared unblinking out the windshield. Apollo, completely unbothered by the rough landing, applauded Thalia on the back, singing her praises.

All of you quickly piled out of the bus, watching as Apollo took off, switching back to a sports car as soon as the last of your feet stepped off the bus. Percy and Thalia took Nico to go meet Chiron and inform him of everything that happened. You watched as Zoe led the rest of the Hunters off to cabin eight. With your bag slung over your shoulder you looked around at the camp, most of the campers not even awake yet or the few that were were sleepily making their way to get breakfast. With one final eyeroll you sighed and made to follow your sisters. You could only hope your goddesses’ hunt would be swift because you couldn’t imagine wanting to be at this place for more than a day.

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse x reader #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #maybe in another life

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ghoul-bonez · 9 months

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~To You He Feels Like Home~

(Neteyam x Fem! Na’vi! Reader)

Summary: You were born to the forest, wild by nature, wild by nurture, and surely wild in spirit. Your animal family had always warned you about strangers, the odd people who looked like you, but when one approaches you, you can’t help but be curious. When your curiosity wears off and you deem him weird enough you’re convinced you’ll never see him again, but Eywa has other plans.

Word Count: 40.6k

Author’s Note: Welcome to the “To You He Feels Like Home” series! This was heavily inspired by by @imeanwhynotbruv ‘s Mowlie! Spider AU which you should check out! There will more than likely only be 3-4 actual chapters & a few “bonus” ones, but this could change…

Important Information: Neteyam & Reader are 18, everyone else is cannon ages, so Neteyam is a few years older than the rest.

~Main Masterlist~

Table of Contents:

Part 1: To You He Feels Like Home

Part 2: Your New Home

Part 3: He Makes Anywhere Home

Part 4: Welcome Home

Part 5: Anywhere Will Be Home If You’re With Me

Part 6: You Are Home

Extras:

The Second Meeting: You Always Find Your Way, Especially Back Home

The Third Meeting: A Halo Above His Head, A Dawning In Your Heart

The Fourth Meeting: There Is Familiarity, Even In New Places

Character Analysis: (Y/n) From Author’s POV

#fanfic #fanfiction #avatar fanfiction #avatar the way of water #atwow #atwow fanfiction #avatar movie #atwow fics #neteyam sully #neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x you #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam x fem!reader #neteyam x female reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam suli x reader

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sillyassboy · 7 months

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i should post here more ive grown too accustomed to twitter's character limit

anyway something that's been on my mind about bugbo recently is the way ive tried to kinda shift the perception of the series one way a bit too hard. when i saw even the slightest chance of people seeing bugbo as a horror series or an ARG with deep lore or whatever , i wanted to put it out there multiple times that this wasn't my intention at all and that bugbo was mostly just a stupid fun series in the style of old 2000s flash animations.

anyway im kinda worried now that people are using this to dismiss Any possible meaning behind the series. i love seeing people's interpretations, and there Are genuine things I want to convey through the characters. theres still no meta deep lore, that's for sure, but there a few characters, most notably bugbo and gerbo, who i have very specific ideas for in my head of what kind of people they are. if there's anything in the series to analyse, it's the characters.

I am kind of a dumbass sometimes so a lot of things in the series might contradict each other, but I really want to make sure at least the characters remain consistent. the worldbuilding is absolute nonsense, yes, and a lot of what happens in the series is comedic and stupid and played for laughs, but i really hope I can give everyone a concrete idea on what the characters are like. so far I think it's been relatively successful but im also worried that my constant re-iterating of bugbo just being Stupid Fun may have fucked with that a little bit. there is very much a certain way I want you all to see bugbo and gerbo, who I consider the two main characters.

and while im rambling about bugbo I wanna say here, don't get used to the tone of a familiar foe. as proud as i am of what we did for that episode, i consider it the tonal limit for the series right now. future episodes will be more in line with the feel of episode 1-2, and they will Definitely be shorter for the most part

ok bugbo ramble over

#bugbo #bugbo series #bensilly #this is a post from me BENSILLY!#fun and games and whatnot

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pandorafairy · 1 year

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Fire of Souls

Part 3: The Forest

// part 1 // part 2 //

Enemies to Lovers // Tsu'tey x Reader (younger sister of Jake Sully, dreamwalker)

Tsu'tey and reader are hunting a beast to protect the Omatikaya. When Tsu'tey gets hurt, will he let you help him? Will you be able to work together or will your differences keep you apart?

Contains: arguing, angst (ish), hunting, and blood (injuries)

Reader was in the army for a year before getting into some trouble. Then you became a scientist and came to Pandora. (secrets will come out later in the series)

Anything written in italics is spoken in Na'vi

We’ve been riding for hours. The insides of my legs are raw as they cling to the side of my direhorse. Tsu’tey and I haven’t spoken since we left Hometree, which was hours ago. The sky is beginning to darken. Eclipse will be here soon and we haven’t anywhere to stay.

Tsu’tey holds his hand up, dramatically telling me to stop. I nearly roll my eyes as I stop my steed. He’s done this every thirty minutes of our journey. He’ll pause, hop off his horse and search the area for tracks from the beast. I sigh but he ignores me as he probes the area. He has various red and yellow feathers placed along his hair. He crouches down, his strong legs supporting himself as he touches the moist ground.

My stomach growls. It’s growing late and we haven’t eaten. Tsu’tey stands, his eyes drawn together as he stares off into the distance.

“We should stop,” I say, my voice rough from not speaking all day.

Tsu’tey doesn’t look at me but his ears quirk to the side so I know he heard me.

“It’ll be dark soon and we need to eat.”

Tsu’tey grunts before turning around. He doesn’t meet my eye but he grabs a sack of things from the side of his direhorse. I take this as agreement and hop off my steed.

“You hunt,” Tsu’tey says, his voice harsh, leaving no room for debate, “and I’ll take the direhorse to the pond for a drink.”

I nod but Tsu’tey has already grabbed the horses and is walking through the trees, his slim hips swaying as he goes. I hope we find this beast soon. I’m not sure I can take this much silence. I guess when it comes to Tsu’tey and me, silence is better than talking which for us— means arguing. I grab my bow, a parting gift from Neytiri.

The ground shifts beneath my feet as I slip through the trees. I want to find a small animal, one that can easily be shared between us. The forest breathes all around me as plants begin to glow in the evening light. Chitters from various animals fill the air. I inhale deeply, smelling the pine and freshness of the air.

A branch breaks from a few feet ahead. My eyes snap open. A small animal with black skin and no fur, eats a nearby plant. It’s perfect. I slowly crouch down, making sure to be completely silent. I pull back my bow, feeling my shoulder blades crunch before releasing the arrow. It splits through the air and rams into a nearby tree. The animal’s head shots up in shocked betrayal before sprinting off into the forest. Damnit.

I blow out an irritated breath when a familiar voice jolts me. “Great. Tree for dinner.”

Tsu’tey stands behind me, leaning by a nearby tree, his loincloth hanging loosely around his thighs. He tilts his head at me, his usual scowl etched on his face. I roll my eyes at him.

Another animal runs into view, the same kind as before. The animal stops and looks around. I don’t have any time to waste. I lift my bow and shoot again, praying that it meets its mark. It doesn’t. The arrow splits through the air and disappears into the forest. I curse under my breath as Tsu’tey lets out an angry groan.

I stand up, my fingers clenching the bow. I’m not a bad shot. I’m usually good, but something about being here, I don’t know. It feels off. My hands keep shaking and there's a constant pit of nervousness in my stomach.

“I’ll hunt over there,” I mumble and push past Tsu’tey. I don’t want him watching me fail again.

I walk past him, his scent filling my nose. He sticks his arm out and grabs me. Surprise spreads through me as he turns me around. “You’ll never kill anything with that posture,” he says. He yanks my arms up. I force myself to stand in my shooting pose. I lift my elbows and aim the bow. “Argh,” he hisses in distaste before smacking my stomach lightly. I jump at the contact. “Tighten your form,” Tsu’tey says, his eyes not meeting mine as he stands next to me. “You’re too loose. Did Neytiri not teach you anything?”

“She taught me well!” I shove his hands off of me. “I’m just off today.”

Tsu’tey sets his mouth in a hard line as he slowly brings his hands to his side. “I’ll hunt then.” He takes my bow. “I knew bringing a scientist would be useless,” he grumbles.

He turns and walks off before I have a chance to snap at him. I was a warrior once, before this. Ugh, anger coils in me, he’s so… I don’t even know. But it’s annoying. I whip around and head back to our horses.

After a while of petting the direhorses, Tsu’tey appears through the trees, a dead animal over his shoulder. Sweat sheens under his braids. He doesn’t acknowledge me as he begins to make a fire. I keep rubbing my direhorse and try to look busy. The air between us feels tense even though we avoid eye contact. God, I want to find this beast.

Cooked meat fills the air, making my stomach grumble. Tsu’tey is cooking the small animal over a contained fire. The warm light glows on his hard face, making his stern expression somehow tenser. Is he always stressed out?

“What?” He asks bitterly.

“Nothing, just admiring your rotating ability,” I state sarcastically. He looks up at me with an expression that says, are you stupid? I motion to the animal that turns above the flames. “Nice skills.”

Tsu’tey blows out an irritating breath. He peels off the animal and gives me a small part. I grab it eagerly and shove the meat between my lips.

The taste burns in my mouth. It’s awful, dry and full of a shocking flavor I don’t recognize but pray I never taste again. Oh no, keep it together. Don’t, don’t. I can’t help it. I gag. Full-on open-mouth gag. I slam my mouth shut.

Tsu’tey scoffs. I stiffen. He takes another bite before looking at me. “Don’t like it?”

“No,” I say. No point in lying. I take a sip of water, rinsing my mouth.

“Ungrateful sky people,” he mumbles under his breath.

“I speak Na’vi.”

He smirks as he takes another bite. “I know.”

“What’s your problem? I’m trying to help.”

“No,” he says flatly, “you want Pandora. You don’t care about my people. Skypeople take and take. They never give.”

Is he really saying this to me? “I’m risking my life to find this beast for your people.”

Tsu’tey pauses. “Don’t speak to me in Na’vi.”

“Why?”

“It sounds wrong.”

We don’t speak the rest of the night.

~~~

His scream shatters my dream. I bolt upright on the ground, my heart pounding in my chest. My direhorse stirs uneasily and nudges my side.

Where Tsu’tey had slept is empty, just rumbled dirt. The fire from our dinner is out and a loose strand of smoke floats into the air.

“Y/N!” It’s Tsu’tey’s voice, at least I think it’s his voice, it’s hard to tell because of how panicked he sounds. I stumble to my feet and grab my bow before running into the trees, following the sound of his voice.

“Tsu’tey?” I scream. There’s a path of direhorse prints. He must have slipped off during the night— without me. What was he doing?

“I’m here!” Tsu’tey’s voice is weaker this time but I’m closer. I push through an underbrush, a few animals howl above me. The breath is sucked out of me.

“Oh my god,” I say instinctively. Tsu’tey is lying on the ground, his head covered in sweat, his face pale, and his eyes struggling to stay open. There’s a large cut across his chest and blood pours down his blue stomach. I inch closer as if he were a stray cat. “What happened?”

Tsu’tey inhales shakily. “The beast but someone…”

He did not. He did not hunt the beast without me. My mouth splits open in anger, ready to yell vile things at him, when his skin surrounding the cut twitches. I gasp and sink to my knees beside him. The cut is not only bleeding but oozing a strange, dark fluid. His veins surrounding the cut are not blue but turning black, and spreading right towards his heart. All my anger drains out of me. “Poison.”

Tsu’tey shakes his head. “Go back to Hometree.”

I ignore him and reach my hands towards his skin. I think I’ve studied this before… That fluid looks familiar. This is Na’vi poison.

My fingers hoover right above his chest. “Don’t touch me, dreamwalker.”

I scowl. “You’re really going to be rude,” I motion to his wound, “in this condition?”

“I won’t make it back,” Tsu’tey breathes. His pupils fight to stay focused on my face. His hands twitch uncontrollably at his sides. His blood continues to splay down his body but soon enough it will clot, and the poison will spread to his heart. “Take the horses and—” He inhales, trying to take a breath but clearly unable to.

My heart clenches. Something about the sight of Tsu’tey laying in the dirt, his weapon strewn beside him and his face is determined. He’s unafraid of death. I used to want him taken down a notch, but I don’t like this. Fear races through me. The darkness around his cut is fanning out. The sides of my vision blur as I try to remember what that textbook said. I don’t have long.

“Don’t move,” I say to him and jump to my feet. “Don’t speak unless you have to.” I turn and scan the plants around me. “I’ll be back.” I run into the forest, heading straight for the pond.

Tsu’tey didn’t reply. His eyes had fallen shut.

~~~

I don’t remember what I did or how I did it. It was like I was on autopilot. I remembered the textbook, the poison, and the antidote. I gathered what I needed and brewed it together. Even started my own fire. My direhorse stared at me in confusion but I ignored her. I didn’t have time to think about anything other than Tsu’tey and his diminishing breaths.

I gave Tsu’tey the antidote, forced it down his throat since he was unconscious. The skin around his cut was completely black and his chest was rising and falling rapidly. Once the antidote had gone down, I stepped back and waited.

I’ve been waiting for hours now. Eclipse just passed and darkness covers the forest again. I moved our camp to Tsu’tey because the thought of dragging him through the dirt seemed wrong. I lit a fire so we’d be warm. My stomach grumbles but I haven’t dared to leave Tsu’tey to hunt.

His breath is more even now, his chest rising slowly. His cut is still gruesome even after I cleaned it, red and angry against his blue skin. His ears are flat against his skull and his lips are parted softly. Is he dreaming? I wonder what he dreams about.

I grab a stick and poke at the fire. What if the antidote didn’t work? What if he’s stuck in this coma-like state? God, I don’t think the Omtikaya would let me near them ever again. I sink my head into my hands, feeling my braided hair and the perk of my ears. To think a year ago I was on Earth and now I’m here, trying to save a Na’vi.

He inhales sharply. My head snaps towards him. My heart flutters in my chest, suddenly nervous. Why am I nervous?

He fights his eyelids open and his head falls to the side. “Wha—”

“Don’t speak,” I say quickly at the sight of his chapped lips. I grab my water pack from my direhorse before making my way over to him. He watches me the whole time, his stare boring into me. He probably just doesn’t have enough strength to turn his head away.

“Water,” I say and sit beside him, “drink.” He struggles to lift his head, his neck muscle straining. I hesitate. He didn’t want me to touch him… A strangled groan escapes him as he tries to lean towards the water. Ah, screw it. I slip my hands under his neck, feeling his beaded hair flutter against my skin, as I lift his lips to the pack.

His eyes widen slightly but they immediately close the second he sips the water. He gulps it down greedily, his body clearly needing it. After a moment, I bring the water down and softly rest his head against the dirt.

A small frown covers his full lips. I tilt my head to the side. He blinks a few times before saying, “How?”

“I remembered the antidote,” I reply as I secure the water pack, “guess having a scientist around isn’t always useless.”

He grunts and then begins to cough.

“Easy,” I chime, worried at the redness brimming around his eyes as he coughs.

He stops coughing and narrows his eyes at me. “I’m okay.”

“Yes,” I say, slightly annoyed at his rude expression and abrupt shift to English, “thanks to me.”

He grunts again and looks away.

I let out an irritated scoff. “Would it kill you to say thank you?”

He doesn’t respond. He keeps staring off into the forest, his tail twitching beneath him.

“Why did you go without me?” I ask, anger slipping into my voice. “We are supposed to be a team.”

“Skypeople cannot work with Na’vi,” he says flatly.

I resist the urge to slap him. He would be dead if it weren’t for me. I cock my head to the side. “What would have happened if I wasn’t here?” Silence. “And who was it that cut you with poison?”

His jaw tightens. “That’s different.”

My stomach curls at his words. How ungrateful is he? “You know what,” I say as I climb to my feet. “I’m done with your crap.”

I stand and walk towards my direhorse. I’m leaving, I don’t know where but anywhere is better than here. Fury boils in my gut but I refuse to look back at his weak body. Why did I think this could work? He doesn’t trust me. He never will.

“Wait,” he calls after me. I freeze at the sound of his voice.

I turn around but don’t move any closer to him. I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him.

He sighs.“Thank you,” he says. I blink in surprise. I didn’t think he was capable of saying that. He turns his head so his gold eyes stare into me. “Thank you.”

I clear my throat, suddenly uncomfortable. I take an awkward step towards him. “Yea, well… I don’t know how to get back to Hometree so I kinda need you alive.”

A laugh escapes Tsu’tey’s lips. It’s rough from his injury but full of life. All my anger slips away and something sparks in my gut at the sound. Tsu’tey just freaking laughed. I think the sound will echo in my mind for hours.

He stops laughing and his face grows serious. “So you know who uses that poison?”

“It’s a Na’vi poison,” I respond, “we aren’t the only ones hunting this beast, are we?”

Tsu’tey nods his head, his eyes squinting in pain as he does. “And they aren’t kind.”

I resist the urge to say, obviously, as I observe his wound but I say nothing. His braids are spread around his head like a halo as he lays in the dirt and stares at the moons. His direhorse somehow found his way back. Both our steeds sleep peacefully beside each other.

“We need to kill the beast before the other tribe,” Tsu’tey says, his voice stronger than it has been, “for the Omatikaya.”

“We will kill the damn thing and whoever cut you,” I agree.

He watches me for a moment like he’s realizing something that he hadn’t before. I cock an eyebrow at him and he looks away. “What’s for dinner?” he asks.

~~~

“No,” Tsu’tey grumbles as he swats my hands away.

“I need to sleep!” I snap at him.

It’s the middle of the night and the antidote is wearing off. Which means the pain is setting in. I need to clean his cut so that tomorrow, he’ll be good as new. For most people, that would be incentive enough to let me help them– but not Tsu’tey. He refuses to let me help.

“Will you stop being a pain in the ass for two seconds?”

“No,” he replies, his voice thick with sleep.

“I’m gonna kill you,” I threaten.

“Try to,” he states, his voice becoming sharper.

“You have a massive hole in your chest,” I remind him.

“So?”

I pause. His eyes glitter beneath the moons. Even with his wound– I wouldn’t want to fight Tsu'tey.

“Do you want to walk tomorrow or not?” I hiss at him. If I don’t clean this cut, it’ll get infected.

He relaxes. “Fine.”

I roll my eyes to which his mouth turns downward. I pull out a few pieces of cloth and my water pack. Yesterday, I brewed an extra antidote so I could use it to clean him. I mix it into the water and dip the cloth in it.

Tsu’tey is watching me. I can’t make out the expression on his face. His eyes are narrowed but he isn’t wearing his usual frown, and his lips are parted slightly. I lean forward, my fingers gripping the cloth. I hesitate right as my hand hoovers above his skin. Nerves spread through my body. I brush them off and place my hand down.

He flinches slightly at the contact. I slowly place my other hand down, feeling the tauntness of his chest. His skin is smooth beneath my fingertips as I dab my other hand lightly on his cut. The glowing forest illuminates his skin just enough for me to see where his wound is.

I pour more antidote mixture onto the cloth. I lean closer, making sure I get every part of his cut. I spread my fingers across his chest to keep my balance.

He inhales sharply.

“Does it sting?” I ask, suddenly alarmed.

He moves beneath me before going still. “No.”

I’m close to him, much closer than I thought. Now that I’m focused on him talking, I’m practically inches from his face. His amber eyes watch me carefully, his lips twitching slightly. I swallow. His eyes travel from my face, down my arm, and to my hand, where my fingers lay against his hard chest.

His tail flicks from beneath him. “Are you done cleaning?”

It feels like someone’s shaken me. I blink a few times. “Yea.” I clear my throat. “Yes, you’ll be fine.”

I peel my hands away. Cool air hits my body as I climb to my feet. I hadn’t realized how warm he was. He grunts and rolls over.

I settle back into my sleeping spot in the soft grass, on the other side of our camp. He breathes steadily, his figure rising and falling in the distance. I close my eyes but it’s a long time before I’m able to sleep.

~~~

“I found tracks,” Tsu’tey says.

Morning light pierces my eyes as I sit up, shaking off sleep. Rage sparks in my gut when I see Tsu’tey holding his weapon. “You went without me? Again?”

I cross my arms and glare. I ignore the happiness in my heart at seeing him healthy.

He lifts his hands out in front of him. “Just to get breakfast,” he states and motions to the animal slung over his shoulder.“I just happened upon the tracks.” I narrow my eyes on him. He cocks his head to the side, a nearly playful smile tugging on his lips. “I swear. I felt fine and wanted to eat.”

“Okay,” I recede as he begins to light the fire again. “We’ll follow the tracks after breakfast?”

He nods and starts preparing our meal. The cut across his chest is now a thin, angry red line. Not pleasant looking but much better than last night. His face has also regained its color. His long fingers move around the animal, “you must be on the lookout for the other Na’vi.”

My face deadpans. “I will.” Everyone seems to forget that I have a military background…

He grunts as a familiar smell wafts into the air. I squint. Oh, great. It’s the same animal as the other night. The one that tasted absolutely putrid. I nearly gag at the thought of eating that again. I think I’d rather starve. Tsu’tey looks up and his jaw tenses as he sees my expression. I internally groan, steeling myself for another sky people lecture.

He reaches into a pouch on his loincloth, his muscular arms straining beneath him, and pulls out a small bag.

He shakes his head in disbelief, at me or himself, I'm not sure. He tosses me the bag and continues cooking the animal. My eyebrows furrow as I open the cloth baggy.

Six pink fruits stare up at me. My mouth falls open. The first time Tsu’tey and I had met, he’d made fun of me and my stained fingers. How I’d loved these fruits, they’re my favorite food on Pandora. How did he know? Where did he find these?

I open my mouth to say thank you but no words come out. I’m completely shocked.

Tsu’tey glances at me from the corner of his eye. He shrugs at my shocked expression. “You like those, don't you?”

I nod, a small smile slipping onto my face.

He rolls his eyes and returns to his meal. “Don’t smile. I need you to be strong for our hunt.”

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. I dip my hand into the bag and take a bite of the fruit. Tsu’tey doesn’t look up at me again as he continues rotating his animal above the fire. His face drawn together in concentration and his limber body hovering above the ground. He’s beautiful.

The thought jolts me. I nearly drop my fruit. I quickly stare at the ground. I did not just think that.

“Eat up,” Tsu’tey says harshly, “we have a long day ahead of us.”

I swallow, forcing all the thoughts of him out of my mind.

PART 4

~~~

Hi beautiful human! Thank you for reading <3

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