#(it’s not actually a take I’ve seen here)

[algae-tm]

PIT PRINCESS

Max Verstappen x mechanic!Reader

Summary : you accidentally (?) become part of the red bull pit crew

Currently Playing : Nissan Altima by Doechii

Warning : Doing what I do best, so just pure crack, like 0 accuracy to anything enjoy

Author’s Note : IM BACKKKK, did you miss me? cause I missed you. Heyyyy how y’all doing, sorry for being kinda inactive it’s a mix between writers block and believing everything I write is straight up dookie.

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TWITTER

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INSTAGRAM

yourusername just posted

liked by redbullracing, charles_leclerc and 10,089 others

yourusername : hello Australia! first day on the job pretty nervy 🫠

view all comments

redbullracing : welcome home y/n 😊

— yourusername : thank god you’re here admin I’m surrounded by serious science people

user2 : wait you were being serious on twitter 😭

— yourusername : I’m always serious :(

— user2 : @/yourusername girl pls ✋🏽 you just said the garage was full of serious science people😭😭

charles_leclerc : glad you found your way, now please never enter my garage again

— user4 : lmao wut did she do????!!

— charles_leclerc : she gave us the cupcakes she baked

— yourusername : just being neighbourly 😊

— charles_leclerc : now half my garage has a tummy ache

— yourusername : damn… they weren’t good then 😞

— charles_leclerc : this is psychological and biological warfare!!

— yourusername : god forbid a girl commits acts of terror 🙄 but I’ll make it up to you guys I’ll bake you a fresh batch

— charles_leclerc : NON!!! Please do not! Refrain from doing so! Do not bring any baked goods near us!

— yourusername : tough crowd

user5 : damn DEI is getting crazy out here

— user6 : I hate to be this person but is this like an optics thing for rbr? They don’t have the greatest publicity rn…

— user7 : I’d agree with you but there are many black women they could hire who are actually qualified for the job

TEXTS

yourusername just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, yukitsunoda and 28,000 others

yourusername : woohoo P1 for Max and points for Yuki! Also a quick tour through the paddock this stuff is pretty cool and thanks for the hat Ferrari admin I love you! #vibesoverdata

view all comments

maxverstappen1 : I’m not even mad… I’m confused, I’m scared, but not mad

yukitsunoda0511 : you gave me moon water instead of electrolytes… thank you?

— user5 : did it work?

— yukitsunoda0511 : my mind has never been clearer. I have never been more focused

user3 : surely that front wing is illegal?

— yourusername : nothing in the handbook against amethyst 🤷🏿‍♀️

fia.official : we are investigating literally everything

— yourusername : max recited the rule book from memory during our first ever meeting. I know the law

— user6 : max did you say? How interesting…

charles_leclerc : admin did you let y/n into our garage again??

— charles_leclerc : @/scuderiaferrari admin pls answer me

— charles_leclerc : @/scuderiaferrari admin she cannot be allowed anywhere near us!

— charles_leclerc : she is sabotaging us!

— charles_leclerc : i do not know how, but i will get to the bottom of this!

— yourusername : 😊😊

INSTAGRAM

f1 just posted

liked by yourusername, and 150,000 others

f1 :

Lando, Max & Oscar react to yet another chaotic Red Bull win, featuring: mysterious tire lube, questionable science, and Y/N’s ever-growing legend.

“Less friction, more fast.” - Y/N, probably.

view all comments

oscarpiastri : I’ve seen things, I can’t unsee them

user10 : I’m sorry but like how did she even get this job?

— user5 : can you not see she’s a whole witch??

lando : can someone check to see if this violates the Geneva convention?

— oscarpiastri : now how do you know what that is?

— ferrariteamlegal : we are looking into it.

user7 : “why does she even have lube” is taking me out 😭

user11 : ur telling me it worked?? She’s a genius! Lock her up

yourusername : science is about boldness! Next time: coconut oil = cornering grace, you’re welcome ☺️

— user27 : science is about boldness meanwhile she has a degree in history and got a C in GCSE science 😭

— yourusername : gosh y’all really hate to see a woman in STEM succeed

— user10 : once again I have to ask… how did you get this job?? @/christianhorner

— christianhorner : error with the paperwork 🤷‍♂️

user88 : no but she commented as if she’s not on an active FBI watchlist

user62 : enzo ferrari did NOT die for this

user1 : the way Lando is actually analysing her methods 😭

— lando : I believe in the power of the crystals! I was the first to understand the vision.

maxverstappen1 : i’m in awe of her, she scares the shit out of me! Two things can be true at once

TWITTER

PRESS CONFERENCE LOG

Location: Paddock, Emilia-Romagna GP Date: [22nd May 2025] Participants: Simon Lazenby (Sky Sports F1) Dr. Helmut Marko (Red Bull Racing)

SIMON LAZENBY (on camera, paddock background): Good evening, Dr. Marko, and congratulations on an unbeaten start to the season, six out of six P1 and P2 finishes for Red Bull. What’s the secret behind Red Bull’s magical turnaround?

HELMUT MARKO (smiling, leans in): Literal magic. But no. To be honest, I thought I’d seen every trick in the book. Then Y/N arrived, and started doing her own thing. So part witchcraft, part guerrilla engineering, I like it she is cutthroat.

SIMON: Let’s break it down. First, crystals on the front wing, amethyst for traction, obsidian for “haters.” That one alone was bonkers enough. What else is on the menu?

HELMUT (chuckles): After Turn One in Bahrain, we realized crystals gave us a few extra tenths in the corners. But Y/N didn’t stop there. Lube on the tire sidewalls, supposedly “reduces drag.” Glitter in the engine bay, “sparkle horsepower,” she called it. Moon water in the fuel cooler reservoir for “emotional balance.”

SIMON: And yet the car hasn’t exploded…?

HELMUT: Not yet. In Bahrain, Y/N used dry ice as a tire warm-up trick. The team refused at first, then we got P1 in quali. By Miami, we had reiki sessions before FP1 and “chakra mapped” pit stop choreography. The results speak for themselves.

SIMON: Yes, you’re correct. Six wins. Those are amazing results. Are you worried the FIA will clamp down on… “spiritual performance enhancements”?

HELMUT (shrugs): They’re investigating whether quartz crystals count as “moveable aerodynamic devices.” Until they ban minerals from the car, we’re technically within the regs. And if the FIA wants to stop snow globe energy grids under the chassis, they must first catch us removing them.

SIMON: Rival teams aren’t exactly thrilled. Charles Leclerc has publicly called it “psychological warfare.” What’s your response to that?

HELMUT: Let them complain. Ferrari’s so busy drafting protest letters they’re forgetting to improve lap times. It’s the oldest weapon in the book, distract your enemy.

SIMON: Looking ahead, are these just party tricks, or is Y/N shaping up to be a genuine race strategist?

HELMUT (leans forward, very earnest): Simon, F1 is margins. Data used to rule everything, now it’s vibes plus data. Y/N has delivered six wins in a row. I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re looking at the next team principal, or dare I say, the first psychic FIA president. Y/N is either the downfall or rebirth of F1.

SIMON: Final question, your championship lead is healthy, but with Monaco next, can these… unorthodox methods hold up?

HELMUT (grins): If you can’t out engineer them, out vibe them. We have a full moon on race weekend, and Y/N’s already ordering new “lucky salts” from Marrakech. It doesn’t hurt that both the drivers really like her.

SIMON (smiles to camera): There you have it, six races, six wins, and F1’s most bizarre yet unstoppable strategy. Back to you, Crofty.

TEXTS

INSTAGRAM

yourusername just posted

liked by f1, maxverstappen1 and 400,000 others

yourusername : My crocs have never led me astray, got a pair for max, sadly he can’t wear them in the cockpit, but I can wear mine during pitstops! If I can feel the asphalt, I am the asphalt #PaddockFashionIcon

view all comments

maxverstappen1 : you nearly got run over wearing those. 10/10 race energy tho. also my crocs fit suspiciously well btw

— yourusername : that’s because i measured your foot in your sleep x

— lando : is this flirting or a hostage situation?

oscarpiastri : Charles is not emotionally equipped enough to witness whatever this is

danielricciardo : neither am I but I’m staying for the chaos

charles_leclerc : you WHAT?? You’re giving him enchanted footwear now?

user4 : y’all need to leave Charles alone 😭 Ferrari torture him enough

charles_leclerc : this is psychological sabotage! You are aiding max with moon rocks and crocs and I’m supposed to just drive??

— user6 : he’s gunna start typing in all caps soon

charles_leclerc : STOP FLIRTING

— user6 : there it is…

charles_leclerc : this is a championship fight not a love story!

user6 : he’s so close to a full breakdown I fear

charles_leclerc : THE CROCS HAVE GLITTER ON THEM I SAW THE GLITTER SITH MY EYES!!!

charles_leclerc : WHO GLITTERS RACE WEAR?? WHO DOES THAT???

— yourusername : it’s called sparkle, you wouldn’t get it… it’s a red bull thing

— user8 : no one in the history of anything has ever associated red bull with sparkle

user15 : multiple comments from Charles and y/n hasn’t even blinked. An apex predator.

maxverstappen1 : @/charles_leclerc the sparkle works, also she decorated my water bottle it has a tiny heart charm now. I like it. Feels fast.

user10 : Charles leclerc breakdown aside… wtf is going on between max and y/n???

— user6 : she put a love spell on man’s hydration system 😭

— user12 : max was unbothered and emotionally shut off for like five years then y/n shows up with crystals and now he’s smiling in the garage like a teen girl in love

— user11 : the way max lets her paint tiny stars on his helmet for cosmic alignment?? we’re so far from reality and i love it

georgerussell63 : i think i saw toto crying after she put a healing crystal on the rear wing. Just silently to himself.

user16 : y/n is just that girl I fear her. I want her.

— user5 : so does max get in line.

crocs : we are legally required to say this is not a brand partnership, but can confirm that someone by the name of Charles leclerc just bought a pair of crocs.

TEXTS

•••••

I’ve literally been writing this all day, by the way ik I haven’t posted in a WHILE, so if you want me to remove you from my tag list just let me know

TAGLIST

@forevercaffeinated-lee

@callsignwidow

@a-beaverhausen

@emryb

@c0deincrazy

@dontworryaboutitokie

@c-losur3

@chuxk-lerclerk

@silkenthusiasts

@ietss

@sp1rl

@destinyg237

@aliorasspace

[ekybrini]

you're the right one | Will Smith

Request: Hi! I have a request if you are up to writing it. Can I please request a Will Smith fic where he and reader are out on a date, and people keep coming up to ask for pictures and autographs, and she happily takes pictures if asked, but for the most part the fans ignore her or make snide remarks. And she starts feeling bad because she feels that she can’t keep up with his world and doesn’t belong with him. And so Will invites her over and he makes her dinner and gets her flowers, does everything. And he basically praises her and thanks her for staying with him and supporting him through his rookie year.

— ⟡ summary | After a rough night out leaves y/n feeling out of place, Will comforts her with flowers, dinner, and gentle reminders that she means everything to him.

— ⟡ warnings | None (that I know of)

— ⟡ word count | 2.3k

— ⟡ gabs note | hiiii !!!! I finally finished this after like almost a month of it being in my drafts lol. Who knew the last two months of school were actually going to be a living hell. THANKFULLY I graduate in exactly a month so I'll be able to start being more active on here which means more post!! if anyone would like to request something don't hesitate !! I won't get to them right away but I will end up writing it sometimes when I have time.

You tell yourself it didn't bother you at first.

The stares. The whispers. Or how your name gets left out of every “Can I get a picture with you, will?” request.

That is just part of dating him. 

You try to focus on the warmth in his eyes. The way his knee brushes against yours under the table. The way he said “I’ve been looking forward to this all week.” when he picked you up tonight after the two long roadies.

And he meant that.

The first fan comes by after your appetizers hit the table. Young guy, maybe in high school, nervous, polite, asking to sign a sharks jersey. Will grins, he takes a picture and signs the jersey. He is sweet about it, he always is. You simile and even offer to take the picture. You’ve gotten used to this by now. You’ve known what it meant to be with him since the beginning of your relationship. 

You just didn’t expect the stream of fans to keep coming. 

Another one stops mid conversation. Then another. And another. You take a couple more pictures. Will never says no. He apologies each time with a sheepish smile and squeezes your hand each time, but you can feel the distance building up with every polite interruption. 

Your food arrives. You push it around your plate, your appetite fading like the candle in front of you guys. 

And of course it happens again.

You're mid laugh at something Will said, something genuinely funny, something that made you forget about how you two can’t seem to have a private moment when a group of girls passes by your table. They slow down pretending to glance at their menu, but their eyes are on Will.

“He’s even cuter in person,” one whispers.

Another snorts softly. “No kidding. And he’s with her?”

“He could definitely do better if he tried.” The girl replied back. 

Will stiffens next to you like he heard it too.

But you don’t wait to see if he’ll say something. You excuse yourself with a bright smile and make your way to the bathroom before your voice cracks.

You stare at yourself in the mirror feeling your chest get tight, fingers gripping the edge of the sink until your knuckles ache.

You knew it could be like this. You’ve seen the comments online, the subtle glances, the disbelief in people’s faces when they realize you're together. You always thought you could handle it. You thought if you loved him enough, if he loved you enough it wouldn’t matter.

But tonight, it feels like you’re trying to breathe underwater.

You fix your makeup, though it doesn’t fix anything. You smooth down your dress, though it still doesn’t feel like it fits right. You stare at yourself until the flush in your cheeks fades enough to pass as normal, then go back out there and pretend you weren’t just unraveling in a public restroom.

Will’s sitting up straighter when you return. There’s a shared dessert waiting at your seat, your favorite, a small cookie pie with vanilla ice cream on top. 

His smile is small, searching. “Thought we could end the night on a sweet note.”

You sit down feeling your heart twisting.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “That’s really sweet of you.”

He watches you for a moment longer than usual. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just tired.”

It’s not a lie. You’ve had a long day, but it's not the reason for you shutting down. 

He doesn’t push. He never does when you shut down like this. Instead, he forks a bite of cookie and offers it to you across the table.

You take it.

You make it through dessert. You make it through the ride home. He tells you he’ll text you when he makes it home. kisses your temple like he always does, lingering just long enough for you to feel guilty for pulling away.

You go inside and lean against the door, blinking against the burn behind your eyes.

Will hasn’t done anything wrong. That’s the hardest part.

He’s just being himself, kind, open, unaware of every careless comment, every ignored glance, every fan who acts like you’re invisible. He doesn’t know how small you felt tonight. How you keep wondering if people see you and think he settled.

You crawl into bed fully dressed, staring up at the ceiling, your mind looping that one cruel comment over and over again.

And he’s with her? 

You close your eyes and try not to cry.

The next morning you wake to the soft buzz of your phone on the nightstand. It will.  It’s still dark out, the sky a dull gray that matches the fog in your chest.

“Good morning, pretty girl. Hope you slept okay.”

Your chest tightens. You stare at the message for a while then type back slowly.

“Morning. Slept alright. Hope practice isn’t too rough today.”

You press send before you can second guess yourself. It’s casual. Normal. Exactly the kind of message he’s used to from you. But it feels like a lie, even if the words are technically true.

You’re not ignoring him. You just can’t bring yourself to say what’s really on your mind.

The way the girl at the restaurant looked you up and down like you were some sort of joke. The way you felt more like a shadow than someone’s date. The way Will didn’t seem to notice.

You know it’s not fair to hold that against him. He wasn’t the one who made you feel small, but he also didn’t notice that you were shrinking.

Later, you respond to another one of his texts, something simple about what you’re watching on TV, what you’re having for lunch. You even throw in a little joke. You’re trying. You really are.

And Will is sweet like always.

“Can’t believe you’re watching that without me. Rude.” Will send the message after telling him you’re watching glee.

“You were the one who fell asleep halfway through the last episode. I’m taking initiative.”

He replies with a string of laughing emojis and a gif that makes you smile, just a little.

It’s fine. Everything’s fine. At least that's what you’re telling yourself.

Because every time your phone lights up with his name you feel that familiar twist in your stomach. Like there’s something caught in your throat, something heavy sitting on your chest. Like you’re pretending everything is normal when inside you’re spinning.

You want to tell him. But you don’t want him to think it’s stupid about you being upset over a comment. You know it shouldn’t have hurt you the way it did. 

So you keep replying. Keep smiling through texts. Keep laughing at the right moments. Because silence would make him worry and you don’t want him to worry.

“Come over tonight?”

Your thumb hovers over the screen. You hesitate not because you don’t want to see him, but because you’re scared he’ll see right through you. 

Still, you reply.

“Sure. What time?”

His response is nearly instant.

“Whenever you want. I’ll cook. Something fancy and probably half burnt, but made with love”

That makes your lips twitch, just a little.

By the time you knock on his door, your stomach is in knots. You try to smooth out your expression when he answers, wearing a hoodie with the sleeves pushed up, hair slightly damp, the smell of garlic and something sweet wafting from the kitchen.

“Hi,” you say quietly.

Will leans in and presses a kiss to your temple before pulling you inside. “Hey, you,” he says. “I missed you.”

You nod, setting your bag down. You don’t trust your voice to work yet.

“I went all out,” he says as he leads you to the kitchen. “Like, full Pinterest boyfriend levels. There are candles. I obviously couldn't get wine but if you wanted the full experience i got grape juice if not i got sodas. And I even tried to fold the napkins into those little triangle things. Don’t look too closely.”

Sure enough there’s a small dinner spread waiting on the table. It’s simple pasta, salad, garlic bread slightly burnt around the edges but it’s warm, thoughtful, and made by him. 

And sitting right in the middle of the table is a small bouquet of flowers. Tulips with a mix of wildflowers, your favorite.

You blink. “Will”

He shrugs, suddenly shy. “I know you’ve had a weird couple of days. Thought maybe this would help.”

You open your mouth to respond, but your throat tightens too fast.

He misreads the silence, smile dimming a little. “I didn’t mean to overdo it. I just I guess I wanted you to know I don’t take you for granted. Not ever.”

Your breath stutters. The lump in your throat threatens to spill over.

You reach for a flower stem with trembling fingers. “They’re beautiful,” you whisper.

He nods, watching you carefully. “So are you.”

Will pulls out your chair and sits beside you instead of across, his thigh pressed lightly to yours.

“I don’t know what’s been bothering you,” he says, voice softer now. “But whatever it is, you don’t have to hide it from me.”

You want to tell him everything. The whispers. The way you felt like you didn’t belong. The way his world sometimes feels too loud, too polished, too far from yours.

But for now, you lean your head on his shoulder and he lets you stay quiet.

After a while of silence you pick at your pasta more than you eat it, but the warmth of the food and the soft music Will put on in the background helps ease the ache that’s been sitting in your chest. Will doesn’t push. He just chats about his last practice, about how one of the guys slipped during warmups, how the locker room smelled like actual death because Macklin left a protein shake in his bag over the weekend. You smile weakly at the stories, letting them wrap around you like a blanket.

But eventually, the words stop. He glances over at you, eyes searching and says gently, “You’ve been quiet lately. I mean, more than usual.”

You stare down at your plate. Your fork scrapes against ceramic, and your voice is barely audible when you say, “Yeah. Im sorry”

Will doesn't rush you. He just waits.

Eventually, you set your fork down and take a breath, fingers curling into your lap.

"It was at the restaurant," you say, voice barely more than a whisper.

Will looks up, confusion flickering across his face. He doesn’t say anything, just waits.

"Our date," you add, still not looking at him. “When those fans kept coming over.”

His expression softens, and you can tell he thinks you’re about to say you were overwhelmed by the attention, maybe annoyed. But that’s not it.

“Some of their remarks are incredibly hurtful sometimes. I overheard someone ask if I was your assistance when I was walking to the bathroom. And then there were ones whose whispers were just too loud.”

You pause, swallowing hard.

“They said you could do better and I know,” you add quickly, “I know people say stupid things all the time. I know it’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But you still felt like shit,” he finishes for you, voice low.

You nod. “I smiled through it. I laughed. Took the photos. And then I went home and felt like maybe they were right.”

“I wish you had told me,” he murmurs. “I wish I’d noticed.”

“I didn’t want to ruin the night. You looked happy.”

“I was happy. Because I was with you.”

His thumb brushes gently over your knuckles. “Listen to me. I wouldn’t be here with you right now if I thought about what they were saying. I don’t care what some strangers at a restaurant think. You think I could survive this year, this pressure, this schedule, this whole new world without you?”

“You’re the best part of all of it,” he says. “You’re the one who keeps me grounded. Who reminds me who I am. That night, I was proud to have you next to me. I just hate that anyone made you feel like you weren’t enough. Because you are. You’re more than enough.”

Your throat tightens as you finally look at him.

“And I made you your favorite dessert,” he adds, almost sheepish. “It’s in the kitchen. I was gonna wait, but”

You laugh wetly, tears spilling as you cover your face with your hands. “You’re such a sap.”

“I know.” He grins, brushing your hands away gently. “But only for you.”

And when he kisses your lips, soft and unhurried, you let yourself believe it that maybe you do belong here with him after all. 

Later that night, you’re curled up on the couch, legs tucked beneath you, the soft hum of a movie playing in the background. You’re not really watching it, not with Will sitting beside you, one arm around your shoulders, his fingers brushing over your arm in slow, calming strokes.

Will shifts slightly, glancing down at you. “You okay?”

You nod, leaning your head against his chest. “Yeah,” you murmur. “I will be.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere. And if anyone ever makes you feel like that again, I’ll personally throw their soup across the restaurant.”

You laugh softly, the sound catching in your throat. “Please don’t start a food fight because of me.”

“Only if you ask nicely.”

The warmth in his voice melts something in your chest, and for the first time in a few days, the ache feels like it’s fading.

You trace gentle shapes on the inside of his hoodie sleeve. “Thank you,” you say quietly.

He doesn’t ask what for. He just pulls you closer, holds you tighter. And as your eyes begin to drift shut the rhythm of his heartbeat steady in your ear all you can feel is safe and loved.

The world may never stop whispering, but tonight wrapped in Will’s arms you makes you feel as if you don't have anything to worry about.

[shimmering-starsun]

there’s been an insane resurgence of headcannons in the marvel fandom thanks to thunderbolts, so heres my masterlist of headcannons i’ve seen from others that I will continue to add to :)

Yelena

her guinea pig is the group pet��named Nat

insists on doing karaoke every saturday night, she and Ava eat everyone up.

Cooks for EVERYONE. makes sure they all eat enough.

laughs at her own jokes, especially the bad ones. Ava can’t help but laugh with her.

Bucky

leads group therapy seasion every tuesday.

tries* to use brainrot and slang terms, but it catches onto Alexei, so now nobody can convince him otherwise.

helps Bob with his nightmares. Sees pre-serum Steve in Bob so he feels like he needs to protect him

talks about Sam a lot, everyones tired of it.

argues with John constantly, but they always work well together on missions.

It’s a competition to see who can sneak up on and scare bucky. He’s expressionless every time and just says “wow that was so scary”

Insists on silence breaks, everyone starts speaking again after 3 minutes.

says he never cares, but makes sure there’s water and first aid for every mission.

Bob

THE little brother.

has to have some amount of light on when he sleeps. He also loves to sleep in the living room on the couch when other’s are there to listen to the soft of their voices.

May or may not be on Booktok, either way, he reads romance and mystery.

always in the corner drinking tea or a milkshake when the others are fighting.

hates cucumber, any way it’s prepared.

He always beats John in every card or board game. when it’s more than 2 people playing, it doesn’t matter if Bob comes out on top, he always gets a higher score than John. They’re the two brothers who hate eachother.

watches cartoons to heal his inner child, doesn’t let anyone know.

>800 hours on minecraft

hard for him to accept gifts from others, even if it’s a bag of chips, he’ll say he doesn’t deserve it.

actually has a great sense of humor, can make the entire team cry from laughter just by saying something small. Takes him a couple weeks to loosen up and start joking around

Ava

likes to jumpscare people by just appearing out of thin air. Steals everyones snacks because she can.

Ultimate gaslighter, especially towards Bob. shows him those ai videos of sad cat stories and obvious rage bate and he gets pissed about it.

loves halloween and horror movies (a menace on halloween night, especially to John who she would just stand in the hallway and stare menacingly at while in a clown costume or something)

has trouble sleeping. Bucky once found her on the floor of the training room at 3am

once passed out from overworking herself, woke up and found Bob sitting next to her watching over her like a big golden retriever.

Kendrick Lamar enthusiast

Red Guardian

runs a tiktok account where he posts videos of the team (bonus, he puts filters on them and doesn’t tell)

will make the most heinous food combinations and swear they’re good.

hugs a little too tightly.

always gives a big dramatic speech before they go out, even if it’s just for coffee.

tells stories that are 90% lies, but everyone listens anyway.

John

acts as if he doesn’t care for the group, but gets worried if they don’t all text him back.

thinks he has a niche movie collection but it’s not neiche at all. horrible taste in movies (this one is very popular)

resident chef, along with Yelena.

the only one who has an actual schedule.

Gets really quiet after missions, especially if things went bad. Extremely self-critical even if it’s not apparent.

[owastie]

closed eyes robert/bob reynolds x gn!reader (fluff) synopsis: bob realizes why you like to hang out on the roof when everyone heads in for the night m.list \ wc: 1k

   your feet dangle off the side of the watchtower, a pair of earbuds in as you watch new york's nightlife. neon lights illuminate nearby bodegas and gas stations, warm colored lights filling bedrooms and living rooms, life filling those spaces. people scatter around the streets, some in clumps, while others walk lonesome. all looking like ants from where you’re sitting, all with their own lives, all needing constant protection.

  taking in a deep breath, you let it sit in your chest for a minute. thinking of every moment that you’ve had to keep your concentration on everything all at once. where you’ve had to inhibit yourself just to protect those around you. slowly breathing outward, you begin to shed the responsibilities and weight you carry. the cold feeling of the building’s glass attacks your hands as you lean forward.

  light bubbles beneath the surface of your skin, pushing through with every breath you take. closing your eyes, you let the music overwhelm your thoughts, finally letting go. the light shines brightly off of your skin, escaping through every pore and follicle. it reflects off of the building’s many surfaces, becoming unbearable to anyone who dare gets close. 

  opening your eyes, you look out towards the horizon, the light, a mere glow from your perspective. it’s always beautiful when you know where to look. which is why you’ve started spending every evening there. you can let yourself go, completely let loose any concentration you were forced to hold in.

  leaning back against the building, you spread your arms out against the roof, taking in slow breaths. everything is calm, quiet (despite the city’s constant noise). until you hear the distinct click of the elevator and the god awful music that no one can seem to get rid of. your eyes flutter open, body tensing as you sit up.

  looking towards the elevator, you quickly dim the light emanating from your skin. as the glow dims from around your eyes, you’re able to finally tell who’s standing by the elevator, bob. he’s in his pajamas, hands fidgeting in front of him. he stands there for a moment, simply staring at you, unsure what to say.

  “bob?”

  “uh yeah, hi. i thought i’d come check on you, since you come up here every night,” he steps towards you, not quite getting halfway before realizing what he was actually doing, “but i’m probably bothering you… i can head back down, sorry.”

  “it’s okay, i wouldn’t mind some company tonight,” your shoulders shrug absentmindedly, knowing you did mind, but you couldn’t turn him away, not when he stands there so sweetly. 

  bob makes his way over to you, the thick gusts of wind throwing his hair around, pajamas pressed against his body. he leaves footprints against the tile roof, stepping up to you, he looks over the edge of the building. clenching his jaw, he sits beside you, pulling his legs close to his body, crossing them. “thanks for checking on me,” looking over at him, you nod lightly.

  “of course, you just always came up here. i know i like to have my alone time sometimes, but also it’s nice to have someone there. someone to talk to,” bob nods with you, looking out towards the city, his heart rate rising.

  looking out with him, the calm returns, yet your mind still races. your skin fluctuates with a small, rhythmic wave. this is your time to relax, to not care about caging yourself for anyone else, “right, yeah… that’s really sweet of you bob. this is always a really calming time for me.”

  “is that why you were so bright? i noticed when i came up that you were you know, shining brighter than i’ve ever seen,” bob questions, turning his head so he can meet your eyes.

  “you’re awfully inquisitive tonight.”

  “sorry, i didn’t mean-”

  “i’m messing with you bob, it’s okay. i usually come up here so i can let everything go. to suppress the physical attributes of my abilities, i have to focus on it. and it’s far too bright for others to just walk around, completely unshielded. so every night i come up and just forget about it,” you look over at him, lips forming a crooked smile.

  his eyebrows furrow, clearly feeling some sort of mixed emotions. biting the inside of his mouth, bob tries to think of something to say, now feeling like he’s encroaching on your personal space. “i can look away, if you want.”

  “that’s not nearly enough, i mean it’s bright.”

  “then i’ll close my eyes and turn my head the other way,” bob shrugs his shoulders, hands fidgeting again.

  biting your lip, you shake your head, trying not to let him see your rolling eyes. taking in a deep breath, you give him a short nod. it’s a quick movement, but enough of one to give him the answer he needed. turning away, he holds his head down, eyes clenched shut. smiling to yourself, you feel your shoulders drop. 

  closing your eyes, you let every ounce of weight on your shoulders melt away. thinking of the crowd below, of bob beside you, you slowly open your eyes to see a familiar glow within your sight. it illuminates his side, moving through every lock of hair. you let out a breath of relief before noticing his hand sticking out towards you.

  he’s still not looking, but his hand still reaches out for your presence. smiling widely, knowing no one else can see, you reach your hand for his, wrapping it within yours. his hand is soft, gentle. you had never held his hand before, never felt the electric spark that runs between your fingers, and it’s one of the most powerful touch you’ve had in a while.

  “oh, you can also talk if you want, about anything.”

  “right, i don’t know why i thought that would do something,” bob’s laughter is quiet, still loud enough to make your heart stumble, “so, how’s training been?”

[dissolvedprincess]

‘need papa frank so so bad him telling you you’re his good little baby 😢’

- Anon

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This was actually an anon req that i accidentally posted an unfinished version of and had to quickly take down. Didn’t know if anon wanted smut or comfort stuff, so i just went with the latter. Also dbf! Frank bcs i can. Enjoy!

Open Arms

✷ CW : angst, afab reader, hurt, plenty of comfort, dbf! Frank Castle, reader has an emotionally absent father, 20+ age gap, reader is in her early 20s

(Not proofread)

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The line rang exactly five times when he finally picked up the call.

“Hello?”

“Frank—“

You swiftly let out the breath you’ve been holding at the sound of his voice. As if on cue, the tension in your body instantly unfurls. Frank has always had that effect on you, ever since you were younger. Maybe the whole reasoning behind it was the fact that your father was never really there for his only daughter. No matter how many times you try to convince yourself with the lavish gifts he gets you, the big house he bought for the three of you, the expensive college he chose for you.

You’ve always lived with the fact that a good husband doesn’t always come hand in hand with being a good father. Even after losing his wife, your mother, the only good part about your messed up little family. He never stepped up to take any weight off your shoulders.

Even so, at least he brought one good thing into your life.

Frank.

The first time you met Frank was when he suddenly appeared at your doorstep. You had just arrived home from college to lounge out for spring break when a set of three knocks on your front door echoed through the house.

The first thought that crossed your mind when you opened the door was how handsome he was; tall and well built under the black hoodie he had on. You’ve never seen this man before, he looked to be around your father’s age.

“Hi. Sorry to bother ya.” He briefly paused to comb his fingers through his thick locks. “I wanted to know if uh- Richard still lives here?”

You were surprised to hear your father’s name. “Yeah, he still does. Don’t think we’ve ever met though— I’m his daughter.” You reached out to offer a hand. A smile crept up your face to mirror his, trying to be as nonchalant as possible when you looked into his eyes.

“Oh! Yeah, yeah, i’ve heard about you. I’m Frank.” Your heart stuttered when his hand clasped around yours. His touch was grounding and the way he smiled was so sweet, you were immediately smitten.

“Nice to meet you, Frank. Come in, please. He’s out right now but he should be back in 15.”

“Thanks sweetheart.” You ignored how your stomach flipped at the pet name. It felt like your were doing something innapropriate when you inhaled his cologne and burned the scent into memory as he moved past you.

The both of you sat at your dinner table when he starts to tell you about the friendship that him and your father used to have. They were childhood bestfriends that sadly lost touch when Frank moved away for a job opportunity and only recently moved back here for a different job. The last thing they talked about through the phone was the news of your arrival into the world and Frank couldn’t have been happier for him.

Though you found it hard to imagine them being anywhere near each other when they were such polar oposites. The stories he told seemed to have showed you a different side of your father, a side that you’ve never seen or experienced before.

You briefly wondered of the possibility that your life could’ve been entirely different if only Frank had stuck around. Maybe your father wouldn’t have been as absent. Maybe Frank would’ve been there to talk some sense into him when he was being a horrible parent. Maybe you could’ve had someone to run to when things got too much for you to handle.

In the following years, the two of you have grown quite attached to one another. He took the responsibility of helping you with things that your own father was too caught up to do. You like the fact that Frank was now a prominent fixture in your life, a person that is always steps ahead of you; hands always ready to catch you if you fall.

Even as the time read ‘02.37’, he still came to pick you up. Unbeknownst to you, he had rushed out of his house the moment he heard you sob quietly into the phone. Before you even had the chance to ask him to come pick you up, he had responded with a brief ‘Already on my way sweetheart.’

That’s how you found yourself in Frank’s living room. You weakly wrap your arms around your midrift as you sat sideways on the couch, facing Frank’s tired form that practically collapsed into it.

“Sorry if it’s not what you’re used to honey.” The exhaustion is apparent on the man’s face as he turned his head towards you, and the sight caused an anxious pit to form in your stomach. You felt helpless to stop the tears from welling up again.

“I apologize for calling you so late Frank. I just- i needed to get out of there. I can’t be around him anymore, for just one night. I promise i’ll go back home tomorrow, just— please let me stay for one night. I promise i’ll be good, i’ll just sleep on the couch and—“

Your frantic and panicked rambling is put to an abrupt stop as Frank wrapped his hand around your arm. Anything that resembles fear or doubt is swiftly wiped away from your mind with every stroke of his thumb on your bare skin. You missed his touch as soon as he lets your arm go.

“Come here.” You see his arms open for you to climb into his lap. On shaky legs, you hesitantly waddle on your knees and straddled his waist. Hugs have always been often between the two of you, but this one felt too— intimate.

He gently pulled your head to lay on his chest and more tears escape you as he lovingly stroke the back of it while the other one wraps around your back. You felt your body relax as you wrap your arms around his while nuzzling your face on his chest.

You lift your head as you felt a kiss on the top of it, taking in how dark eyes scan your face. His hand leaving your back to push stray strands of hair out of your face and smooth them out.

“I hate to see you cry sweetheart.” He mumbled, swiping away a tear, you leaned on his palm and kissed it.

Frank hesitantly leaned in and trailed kisses all over your heated face. From your cheeks, your nose, your still wet eyelids, to your forehead. All while whispering little praises, ‘my good girl’, ‘you’re the best thing in my life sweetheart’, ‘sweet girl’, ‘you’re so easy to love’.

Emotions were high, and you understand that completely. You weren’t in the best position to do anything impulsive, but you couldn’t deny yourself of this anymore; not when all you could’ve done was yearn for years.

Without letting yourself think any longer, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips. It felt like the right thing to do. Frank gasped at the feeling, but he eagerly returned it. His lips were much softer against yours than you expected. The way he moved was careful and sweet but you wanted more. You wound your fingers through his hair, tugged him deeper into your mouth and licked at his lips against yours.

But the kisses ended as quickly as it started and you attempted to chase his lips again, even as he put a gentle hand between the two of you, pressing lightly against your chest. “Why’d you stop.” you whined.

Frank closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the couch. He let out a staggering breath, seemingly struggling to hold himself together.

“Sweetheart i— i can’t take advantage of you like this. It’s not right.” He looked sincere and honest, all of the things that he’s always been for you.

Sadly, the only word that came to mind was ‘Rejection’. Your mind ran to do what it does best, to sabotage and quiet down any external voices, be it positive or negative ones. The only focus was on you, you, you and what you think.

“Do you not want me?” You let out quietly, almost a whisper.

“No, no, no honey don’t— please don’t say that. You know i do.” His hands went up to envelop your cheeks, not giving you the chance to look away.

“I just…i don’t think we should be doing this right now. You’re vulnerable and you might think that it’s what you need, but trust me..it’s not.”

You were quiet and intently listened.

“I love you and fuck i’d do anything to take the pain away, like i always do. But i would never. You hear me? Never let you do anything you might regret, not when you’re all up in your head like this.”

The flood of emotions felt different this time. You openly sobbed as you buried your face in his neck.

“Shh…It’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here for you sweetheart, i’m here.”

Frank nuzzled into your hair as he held on to you like you were going to slip away from his arms, like he always does. You’ve always liked that about him, you’re never too heavy for his hands to hold. He’s good at taking whatever pain you have to turn it into something else entirely.

“I got you baby. I got you.” He whispered.

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Sheesh! I know anon’s request was very short and to the point, sorry that i had to ramble on and on before we actually got to the point of the request lmao…Dbf! Frank is such a delicate topic that should be handled with care and i needed to build up the relationship between reader and Frank first to fully delve into it.

Still, hope you guys had a blast, and please do stay tuned for the next Dbf! Frank fic! We’ll fuck the dilf in the next one don’t worry.

Love u guys.

-Z

P.S

Thinking of making a taglist for my Frank Castle fics. Let me know if you want to be added into it!

[backtothefanfiction]

No One Like You | Manny Alvarez Imagine

Summary: He always just wanted to be a good soldier and survive… until he met you.

Warnings: 16+, show typical violence, angst, fluff, reader insert, complicated relationship, a little trauma, spoilers for Season 2 Episode 2 if you still haven’t watched it

Word Count: 3.3k+

A/N: I’m still not fully sure I’m happy with where I’ve ended this but I wanted to keep the ending ambiguous. Do they stay together? Don’t they? Maybe one day I’ll decide and write more but for now, that’s entirely up to you.

Be a good soldier. Follow orders. Be a part of the team- and you might just survive. Those were the only things that had been drilled into his head since this all started. And it was going well for him too. The only thing that ever made him contemplate straying from those three easy steps was you.

You were a great shot, easy on eyes (even in your 3 day old uniform all dirty and sweaty from hunting down infected) and you always had his back.

His heart rate would always pick up when he found you were out on rotation with each other. He should have reported it to his superiors. Told them he struggled to look out for the whole team evenly when you were around. That it made him a liability. But he didn’t.

It was just a crush, nothing serious. It’d pass within a month, he told himself. But it didn’t.

“Yo Manny?” You said getting his attention, “You okay there?” You asked. He had been staring off into space again.

You were both on break, taking a moment to chill out on the top floor of the training building.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said coldly, trying to get you off his back. You knew it was an act. The ‘I’m a tough guy, I don’t have feelings’ act. But you knew there was more to him than that. Seen the few times he’d hesitated on mission. Seen the way he stared at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

“You sure you don’t wanna talk about it?” you asked him.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he affirmed, but you knew from the way he shuffled in his seat there was something eating away at him.

“Okay then,” you sassed him lightly as you moved your attention back out to the view, but you could sense him bristling out the corner of your eye- he was clearly stewing about something.

“Do you ever question it?” he suddenly asked, his voice low so no one else would hear you, but the only other Fireflies that were up here were way on the other side of the room to you both.

“What?” You asked, turning to him intrigued.

“All this,” he said, faintly gesturing to your surroundings and the other people in the room. “What we do?”

“Having second thoughts about what side you chose?” You asked him.

“No!” he said adamantly. “I just…” his voice faltered as he struggled to put his thoughts into the world. “I know this is better than being in the QZ,” he said.

“But?” You asked him, dragging out the word as you encouraged him to continue.

“What if there’s another way of living? Away from all this,” he said as your eyes narrowed on him.

You never would have put him down as a thinker like this. He had always been so assured of himself as a soldier. A survivor.

“A way to actually live?” he questioned hopefully.

“Isn’t that what we’re fighting for?” you asked him.

He looked around at the fellow rebels that surrounded us. Fellow soldiers just following orders for self elected higher ups with a vision that was still fully unclear. “I think I’m just fighting for the sake of fighting,” he finally replied. “Because it’s all I’ve ever done. I was just a kid when all this started. My parents didn’t even survive day 1. I was all on my own. I was 8 years old. I learnt pretty quickly how to fight and fend for myself. I don’t think I’ve ever really stopped,” he confessed.

“Do you want to?” You asked, intrigued by this new vulnerable side he was showing you.

“I don’t know,” he replied before he hesitated, his eyes raking up and down the full length of your body, from your pulled back hair all the way down to your boots as he seemed to be making a decision. “But it would be nice to have the option to decide,” he finally said and you sighed.

“Y/N,” a rookie called out to you as you were both leaving the room to go back out on patrol. “Doc wants you downstairs for some tests,” she said.

“What sort of tests?” Manny asked for you, a hint of defensiveness in his voice.

“I don’t know, just routine ones I guess. All the women are getting tests done,” she informed.

“You too?” he asked.

“I guess so,” she replied. “I mean I haven’t been asked yet but I’m new so my name’s probably near the bottom of the roster.”

“Okay,” you agreed steadily, but you couldn’t deny the small dose of fear that flooded your veins. Tests usually meant needles- and you fucking hated needles. “Tell them I’ll be down in a minute,” you said and the younger recruit nodded before beginning her descent back down to the labs.

“What do you think it’s for?” Manny asked as you both began to slowly follow the recruit down at your own pace.

“Who knows? Probably just some routine health check,” you said optimistically.

“Then why isn’t everyone getting called in?” Manny asked skeptically.

“Maybe they will. Maybe they’re doing it this way to spice it up. They’ll probably go through all the men next week or something,” you replied.

“You want me to wait for you?” he asked when you both landed on the floor that held the labs.

“Nah, who knows how long this is gonna take. You guys go without me,” you said, encouraging him to go back down to the barracks without you.

“I’ll see you later though, yeah?” he said, already two steps down the next flight of stairs.

“Dinner at 7?” you joked as if it wasn’t at the same time every day. “Wouldn’t miss it,” you said, shooting him a smile and he quickly shot you one back before he hit the bottom step and pivoted to move down the next ones.

Little did he know, he wouldn’t see you again at 7. He wouldn’t see you at all. After that afternoon you just disappeared like you hadn’t existed at all.

When he asked his superiors about you, they pretended like they didn’t know. Maybe they had found part of the cordyceps in your system and had to put you down. Maybe they transferred you out to another branch of the rebellion. Maybe you had heard his words and just run off. Who knew? He certainly didn’t. And he doubted he’d ever get an answer either.

Without you around he became jaded. You were the only person who made him feel hope for something more. So when that Joel guy came along a few days later and massacred the majority of the fireflies in the building, he had nothing left to lose when Abby asked him to go with her to track him down. After all, it’s what he did best right. Working as a team. Following orders. Killing things. That’s all this life could ever be if he wanted to survive. And he wanted to survive.

It was a long journey. For ages they felt like they were going in circles, looking for any sign or evidence of where this Joel guy went. It felt like the blind leading the blind. They searched and they hunted. They took down infected and did anything and everything to find this Joel guy.

It took years, but eventually they did.

Abby was mostly mad by the time they all found him. She was so lucky he just fell into her lap the way he did. There was something twisted knowing he had just saved her life for her to take his, but at the end of the day, that was the mission and Manny was a good soldier if nothing else.

They left before anyone else could find them, headed back west towards Seattle. They had found a new group of rebels that way, a new group to join. After all, there was strength in numbers.

It wasn’t too long a journey, but with the snow storm they needed to find a place to rest again until it all blew over. They thought the town was deserted. There was no one on the streets. That’s because they were all bunkered down together in the old school.

He wasn’t sure who had started to fire first, all he knew was that he’d already killed three people. It was just instinct at this point, shoot first and ask questions later. Protect your team, no matter the cost.

It was a fire fight through the halls, the group of them slowly pushing the civilians back- but one of them stood out amongst the rest. He couldn’t get a good look at her, but she was clearly a good shot and was taking point on their defence. He could just about make out her voice over the sounds of gun fire. It seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

“I’m going after the leader,” he informed Nora who was taking cover in a doorway across from him. She gave him a brief nod, providing him a small amount of cover as he quickly began to move down the hall.

“STOP SHOOTING!” the familiar woman’s voice suddenly shouted. “STOP SHOOTING!” she cried again before she boldly stepped forward from her hiding place.

“DON’T SHOOT!” she called out as she walked out with her hands raised into the middle of the hall and Manny froze. He felt like he was seeing a ghost.

“Y/N?” he asked tentatively, his weapon still aimed at you defensively but you didn’t show fear.

You both heard the clicking sound of a bullet being moved into the chamber of a gun behind him.

“DON’T SHOOT!” he quickly turned and shouted as he spotted both Abby and Nora stood a few paces behind him with their weapons raised. “Don’t shoot,” he said again, his weapon lowering as he turned back to take you in.

It had been so long. He thought you were dead.

“Who is this man? Who are they?” A gruff older voice came from behind you as a man in a red flannel and braces stepped into the hallway behind you.

“They’re okay,” you quickly told him, “I know him. He’s an old friend,” you said, your eyes turning back to Manny fondly. “I mean, we are okay right? We can talk this out like adults,” you almost pleaded as you searched his eyes for just a hint of the man you knew he had been deep down.

He knew the rest of his team wouldn’t understand. Knew he would have to do all he could to keep them from doing any more damage, but you were here- standing right in front of him- alive and well and thriving and he had to know. Needed to know what had happened to you. How you had ended up here? Why you left him without even a word.

“Yes,” he said with a nod.

“Give us your weapons as assurance,” the older guy said and Manny willingly dropped his weapon for the first time in 20 years.

Reluctantly the others at his back did the same, sliding their weapons across the floor with their feet so the old guy could collects them.

“Can we take shelter from the the storm with you?” Manny asked you as you stepped closer to him.

You gave him a nod, “But your friends have to mind their manners,” you informed him.

He gave you a small nod before turning back to the rest of his team, ushering them forward to follow the other guys at your back towards the gymnasium where everyone else was hunkered down with food and blankets.

You could feel him hesitate in the doorway at your back before he reached out his hand for your arm.

“We need to talk,” he said lowly into your ear, his eyes scanning the full length and width of the room behind you. You quickly did the same before you gave him a silent nod and began to guide him back in the other direction towards one of the open science labs.

When you were both inside you closed the door, not wanting anyone else to be privy to this particular conversation.

“What happened to you?” he immediately asked racing forward to crowd your space. He was still as good looking as ever- even if his curls had grown out a bit more and were now getting into his eyes where they’d been on the road so long. “I tried to ask, I was so worried. They made me think that you were dead,” he said frantically.

You hesitated, unsure of how to tell him what had happened that day. What had happened to you in the days after. You had been relegated from loyal soldier to prime test subject in a matter of hours. They knew that girl was headed there. Knew there was a living human being who was immune.

“It wasn’t just a routine check up,” you told him, your eyes growing sad at the memory. “They were looking for prime candidates to test their little vaccine on when it came in,”

“What vaccine?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“There was a girl. She was found by one of the fireflies out in Boston. She was immune Manny. That guy who came and killed everyone. He did it because of her.”

Manny continued to frown as he processed that information. Usually when he thought like this he liked to pace a little, it helped him focus, but he didn’t want to stop looking at you for even a single second now he knew you were here and alive.

“Manny, they injected me with some of her blood,” you said earnestly, holding his gaze. He was the first person you had ever told this. It had been eating you alive for years keeping it a secret, but you knew you had to.

“They didn’t know what they were doing,” you said, your words coming quickly now, like breaking a hole in a damn and now everything was spilling out. But he was the only person who would understand. The only person who had known you before. “But it worked,” you whispered to him, so afraid that anyone would listen in and hear you.

“What?” he asked confused.

“It worked,” you said again, fighting to quickly lift your shirt and push down your trousers to show him the bite mark on your hip.

“Wait, you got bitten?” he urgently said in a hushed tone, his body quickly moving forward to crowd you further and hide you even though there was no one else around.

“But nothing happened,” you insisted, quickly trying to cover yourself up again, but you froze at the feeling of his thumb moving over your skin.

“When?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as he traced his thumb backwards and forwards over the raised scar.

“Nearly five years ago,” you said shakily, your breathing becoming shallow at the feeling of his touch and the closeness of his body. “I thought everybody was dead. I thought…” you hesitated as you tried to confess to him the thing that had broken you the most. “I thought you were dead,” you said to him bravely. “I just- ran.” you told him as his thumb came to a stop, but he didn’t pull his hand away.

“I remembered what you said over lunch that day. Figured there had to be something more. So I ran. Moved across the country and back again until I landed here.”

“Does anyone know about…?” His voice hesitated, not wanting to say the words out loud just in case.

“No.” You shook your head.

“Why are you telling me?” he asked curiously.

“Because you were my best friend,” you confided. “Despite everything we went through, there’s no one I trust more,” you said and he finally stepped back, his hands rubbing at his eyes in what you feared was frustration.

“And what do you expect me to do now?” he asked.

“I don’t know, but- Manny please,” you said stepping forward, your hands reaching out for him. He froze. “I thought you were dead. Had I known I would have come back for you.”

“What does that mean?” he frowned, irritated and defensive.

“This place, here. You don’t have to fight anymore. We could live- together,” you insisted.

“What?” He said confused, feeling like this whole conversation was spiralling off the rails, before he’d had a chance to grasp it.

“Manny, I’ve found a place here where I can truly live, not just fight and survive all the time. I can relax. Do other things. Be a part of an actual community. We- we could-“ You didn’t know how to say it. “We could have a life together!” You finally spat out. “Oh come on,” you said confidently when he looked at you perplexed. “I know you liked me. I saw the way you looked at me back then. I wasn’t an idiot. I just never said anything because I didn’t see the point. We were soldiers, not just people back then. But now- here- we could live. We could be something.”

“I can’t just abandon my friends!” He said enraged. “And after everything that just went on out there, I doubt we’d be very welcome here in the long run.”

“Okay, then let’s go to Jackson. I hear there’s a large colony of people there.”

“We’ve just come from Jackson,” he said dejectedly and suddenly he couldn’t seeem to meet your eyes.

“What were you guys doing in Jackson?” You tentatively asked him, unsure if you wanted to hear the answer.

“We were hunting down that Joel guy.”

“And did you… find him?” you asked. He nodded. “And?” you presssd.

“Abby killed him.”

There was something about that statement that didn’t sit well with you. You weren’t sure why. I mean, they had been well in their own right to get revenge for what happened to the Fireflies- to your friends- but there was a feeling in your gut, that stemmed from the look on Manny’s face, that told you there was something more.

“What is it?” You asked him. There was clearly something eating him up about the whole thing.

“There was this girl. She gave me this,” he said shifting his hair out the way to show off the cut on his head that had scabbed over. “She seemed to be very stressed about the fact that Abby tracked him down and killed him.”

“You think she’ll come after you all in revenge?” you asked.

“All the more reason for us to get back to the group we found in Seattle. Strength in numbers and all.”

“So that’s it then?” You said to him. “You’re just gonna live the rest of your life as a soldier?” You asked him as he settled himself back on the edge of the desk in front of you.

“It’s all I know.”

“But it doesn’t have to be,” you said to him earnestly, stepping forward and he hesitantly placed his hands on your hips. Slowly he lowered his head until his forehead was nearly resting against yours.

“I missed you,” he confided.

“I’ve thought about you everyday,” you said breathing slow. “I would imagine you were at my side, talking to me. Protecting me. Having my back like you always did. When I got bit, it was your voice in my head telling me to get up. To keep going. I thought you led me here. Because you wanted me to live,” you confessed with tears in your eyes. “You were all I ever wanted. There was no one else like you.”

Suddenly his lips were on yours. They were chapped from days trekking through the cold, but they still set you on fire. You had dreamt of this so many times, but nothing could have prepared you for the real thing.

“You were the only thing I have EVER wanted,” he stressed, your breaths mingling with your closeness. “You were the only person who made me want more in this life.”

“Then stay,” you insisted, your eyes searching his desperately now you finally had him in your arms once again. “Please... Stay.”

[ssivinee]

「 Sweet Treat 」

l. bada x f reader ✎𓂃 Bada's leading the National Korean Women's soccer team, and their newbie, Nakyoung, has two famous sisters. One Bada has a tiny crush on.

word count ! 2.5 k

author's note ! I know, I know. IT'S BEEN SO LONG. I honestly posted this one on a whim after finishing it tonight. I HAVE LIKE TWO WEEKS LEFT OF SCHOOL and I swear im gonna write more bc I have so many fic planned out and started. BUT how about a small fic for the og wife 🤭. ALSO don't mind the blog and aesthetic changes ok-

The large soccer field practically shimmered beneath the harsh afternoon sun, the kind of weather the players had long grown used to. From a distance, Bada stood sipping from her water bottle, eyes tracking the ball as it was kicked between teammates.

“They’ve been working real hard these past few days,” came a voice from her right. She glanced over to see the coach, arms crossed, watching them as well.

“Well, you were a little harder on them last week,” Bada pointed out with a half-smile, hoping to earn a laugh. “They’ve been coming in extra sore ever since.”

The coach just scoffed, still disappointed in the team after last week. “Maybe if they didn’t spend every other night partying.”

“C’mon, Coach. Cut them some slack. We finished one of our toughest matches not long ago,” Bada tried again, her voice easy, but the older woman just gave her a look.

“You did. But I didn’t hear anything about you going out after. So at least someone still has their priorities straight.”

A frustrated sigh followed. “At least the new girl wasn’t as bad,” the coach muttered under her breath.

Bada set her bottle down and jogged back toward the field, calling over her shoulder, “She’s not one to give in to peer pressure!”

The coach’s laugh was low and amused behind her.

“Was she complaining about us again?” Lusher asked between heavy breaths, collapsing beside you as practice eased up for a moment.

“Yeah. Nothing new,” Bada replied with a shrug.

“I don’t get why she acts like we party every night,” Tatter chimed in, trying to steady her breathing as she stepped beside them.

“Because you were,” Bada said flatly, earning synchronized eye-rolls from her best friends.

“We stopped, though!” they both shouted at the same time, their matching tones causing Bada to snort—and the coach to shoot them a glare from across the field.

“Fifteen-minute break, everyone! I’ve got a phone call,” the coach shouted before jogging off the turf.

The team quickly scattered, many plopping down on the grass with heavy sighs, a few even lying flat on their backs. Bada made her way to her bag, unwrapping a piece of candy and popping it into her mouth. The sugar melted quickly on her tongue, and she hummed at the sweet flavor. She had a soft spot for sweets—it was her favorite little way to calm down.

But as she turned to rejoin the group, her eyes landed on someone unfamiliar approaching the field.

A smaller figure walked across the grass, face mostly hidden behind sunglasses, a black mask, and a cap pulled low. It was suspicious enough to make Bada squint.

“Uh… can I help you?”

“You actually can,” you replied, voice a bit muffled by the mask. “I’m trying to give this to my sister—she left it at home this morning.”

You raised the large water bottle like a peace offering. Bada blinked, trying to piece together the situation while glancing around for context.

“Who’s your sister?”

“Nakyoung.”

Bada’s expression changed in an instant. “Oh.” She turned around and yelled, “Kyoung-ie! Your sister brought your water bottle!”

Nakyoung perked up at once, leaping to her feet. “Unnie!” she called out, practically skipping over to you.

“I can’t believe you came all the way here just to bring this,” she panted, taking the bottle from you with both hands.

“I couldn’t let my dear baby sister pass out from thirst, could I?” you teased, pulling down your mask and sliding your sunglasses to the top of your hat.

Bada froze.

Her eyes widened like she’d just seen a ghost. Or more accurately, a celebrity she never expected to find at a soccer field in Seoul.

Was that—was that Kim Y/n?

Not that it was rare to spot an idol in the city, but you had made such a name for yourself overseas that people barely expected you to still be in Korea, let alone casually show up like this.

“Wait—you’re her sister?!?” Bada practically yelled, voice pitching with disbelief.

“Uhm, yeah?” you said, a little amused by her expression. “You didn’t tell them?” you asked your sister, giving her a look like she’d lost her mind.

Before Nakyoung could respond, Xinyu came barreling toward you, eyes wide with excitement. “Wait! I’m a huge fan!” she gasped, grabbing your hand and shaking it furiously. “Can I get an autograph?”

As Bada watched the interaction, her brain started connecting dots she hadn’t even known existed.

She looked from Nakyoung… to you… then back again.

“Hold on. BIBI is your sister too?!”

You couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out, her shock way too genuine not to find funny.

Nakyoung grinned proudly. “I have the coolest sisters ever!”

“That she does,” came a new voice. You turned your head to see Lusher and Tatter walking over. Tatter reached out, gently patting your sister on the head, a soft smile on her face. “You’re so lucky.”

You glance at the time on your phone and sigh, tugging Nakyoung gently by the sleeve. “Alright, little one, I’ve gotta bounce. This pit stop was just lucky timing—I have a shoot in Gangnam in, like, an hour.”

Nakyoung’s face drops a little. “Already?” She pouts, clutching her water bottle like it were her emotional support plushie. “But wait—wait! You should come to my game this weekend!”

You raise a brow. “Game?”

“It’s a home game! Coach said it’s important, and you’re always working, but… it would be really cool if you could come,” Nakyoung says with a hopeful smile. “Hyungseo-unnie can come too!”

Now that makes you pause.

You tilt your head, pretending to think, though the sight of your youngest sister looking that excited already has you caving. “Alright,” you smirk, “I’ll clear the day. I’ll even drag her out of the studio. You know how she is, always keeping herself busy these days.”

Nakyoung cheers, throwing her arms around your waist in a quick hug. As you're hugging her back, your gaze lifts and meets Bada’s again. She’s still standing there, awkwardly polite, still lowkey starstruck, and you can’t help but smile.

“Thanks, by the way,” you say, addressing the taller girl directly. “For looking out for her. I know she’s a pain sometimes, but she really talks about you a lot. Said you helped her with training the other day?”

Bada’s caught off guard—again. She straightens up a little, rubbing the back of her neck. “Oh—uh, yeah. Just some footwork drills. She’s a fast learner.”

“She better be,” you chuckle. “But really… thanks. Let’s me know she’s in good hands.” You shoot her a sincere smile before turning to Nakyoung and ruffling her hair. “Alright, I’m off. Don’t slack off just because you saw my pretty face today, yeah?”

You throw a wave to the rest of the girls nearby and walk off with a casual coolness, your mask pulled back up and sunglasses sliding into place. The moment you're gone, Bada’s still frozen in place, staring at the spot where you’d just been like she’d seen a ghost—or, more accurately, a goddess.

“Dude…” Lusher walks over, blinking at her. “Did you short-circuit?”

“She definitely short-circuited,” Tatter joins in, nudging Bada’s side with a knowing grin.

“I’m fine,” Bada mutters, but she doesn’t sound too convincing. Her ears are red, and she’s still gripping the wrapping of her candy like it were a stress ball.

“You sure?” Lusher singsongs. “Because it kinda looked like you were about to faint when she thanked you. Should we call the medic?”

“I said I’m fine,” Bada repeats, shaking herself out of the daze before letting out a small breath. “I just… I wanna win this weekend.”

That earns a pause from both Lusher and Tatter. Then the teasing practically writes itself.

“Win in front of her,” Tatter repeats, eyebrows raised high. “Or win her over?”

“Ohhh, that’s what it is,” Lusher snaps her fingers. “You’re trying to score off the field, too.”

“Would you two shut up?” Bada groans, shoving them lightly, but she’s smiling—helplessly, hopelessly smiling. “She’s a gorgeous human, okay? Might as well show off a little.”

Tatter grins. “So you admit it?”

“I’m not saying anything else,” Bada mutters, but her friends are already giggling, and she doesn’t even try to stop them. Not this time.

After all, you weren’t standing in front of her anymore, so admitting it out loud didn’t feel that terrifying.

Well, maybe Bada spoke too soon. Games like this always felt a little terrifying, AND it’s in front of you? 

She almost wanted to curse herself for jinxing the feeling from a few days ago.

The game had already started by the time you and Bibi arrived. Both of you had your masks on, hoods up, hats low—though yours still let a few strands of hair slip out, letting people guess if they stared long enough. But no one was really looking. All eyes were on the field.

Bibi leaned back against the stadium bleachers, legs crossed, arms folded under her hoodie. “You think she’s nervous?”

“Nakyoung? Probably more focused than nervous,” you said with a small grin, scanning the field until you found the familiar headband she always wore during games. “This is her thing.”

And it was. Nakyoung was quick on her feet—literally. It was already the third quarter, and the score was 4-1, her team holding the lead, but not without a fight. The opposing team was hungry, intense, and nearly caught up during the second quarter. Every play felt faster than the last.

But it was Nakyoung’s next move that got the crowd to hold their breath.

She had intercepted a risky pass near midfield, and in one clean, confident motion, she turned, dribbled past two defenders, and launched the ball forward with a low, sharp cross—right into Tatter’s path. Tatter didn’t even hesitate. One touch, bottom right corner.

Goal.

The crowd roared. Tatter’s fist pumped toward the sky, and Nakyoung threw her arms around her teammate in celebration. Her face lit up with a wide, blinding grin as she turned toward the stands—and spotted you.

She waved with both arms, full body rocking side to side like a kindergartener on sugar. You laughed under your mask, nudging Bibi. “God, she’s such a dork.”

“She’s our dork,” Bibi murmured, barely looking up. “She’s grown, though. That pass? Clean.”

“She’s been practicing with Bada,” you said. “It shows.”

And as if summoned, Bada’s gaze flicked to the bleachers too, searching—until it landed on you. You waved, subtle but enough for her to know you saw her. Her eyes widened for a second, then softened.

Back on the field, the energy had changed, and the game was quickly picking up its pace. The other team was pushing harder now, forcing Bada’s team to play smart. No mistakes were allowed.

When the whistle blew to signal the end of the third quarter, the players jogged off to the sidelines. Water bottles were passed around, and coaches spoke in clipped, sharp tones.

But Bada? Bada was quiet, towel slung over her shoulders, one knee up on the bench as she stared out at the field like she was solving an equation.

Lusher nudged her. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Bada said, almost in a daze. “I’ve got something.”

The coach raised a brow when Bada slid into the huddle with a plan, scribbling something quick on the whiteboard. No one questioned her. She was the star player and their captain for a reason.

So then it marked the final quarter, and the fans were on edge. The opposing team got more physical, more aggressive. It was a miracle they didn’t get a card for that slide tackle. But Bada stayed calm and waited for her moment.

Then it came. A slight misstep from the other team, and Bada took the chance.

She stole the ball just past midfield and sprinted, weaving past defenders like they were cones. One fake after another, then following up with a spin that left the last girl reaching for nothing but air. And then—

From what looked like an impossible angle just outside the box, she shot.

It curved, kissed the top crossbar, and dipped straight into the back of the net. The whistle shrieked, with the crowd exploding at the insane goal.

Bada just stood there for a moment, chest heaving, sweat dripping down her jawline. Her teammates swarmed her, but her eyes drifted to the stands again.

You were already on your feet, clapping like crazy.

Bibi didn’t show much emotion, but even she looked mildly impressed. “Okay. That was sick.”

“She’s showing off,” you murmured under your breath, the edge of your mask twitching into a grin.

The players hit the locker rooms after, the field slowly clearing out. You leaned against the chain-link fence with Bibi beside you, both of you waiting.

“I thought we were meeting her at the front,” Bibi said, glancing at her phone.

“She asked me to meet her here,” you replied, eyes still scanning. “She’ll come out the back with her team.”

You didn’t have to wait long, but Bibi said she’d rather wait in the car instead.

Bada was the first one out, hair damp and messy from the quick shower, jersey traded out for a plain oversized hoodie. What caught your eye wasn’t even the clothes—it was the lollipop she was sucking on.

She slowed when she saw you, hand slipping the candy from her mouth as she approached.

“Are you out here waiting for me?” she asked, teasing, though her tone was soft.

“Not you,” you deadpanned, nodding behind her. “Nakyoung. But hey, congrats on the game. That last goal was disgusting.”

Bada laughed, the nervous kind that edged on shy. “Disgusting in a good way, right?”

“The best way,” you said, eyes catching on the lollipop in her hand. “Is that… is that lemon-mint?”

Her brows raised. “Yeah—how’d you know?”

“It’s my favorite.”

Bada blinked like she was processing that you were a real person with things like preferences. Then she held the candy in her mouth and dug into her duffle bag without a word, giving you a fresh, unopened lollipop. “Take it.”

You caught it easily, smiling behind your mask. “Bribing me with candy?”

“Maybe,” she said, then hesitated—just for a second. Then she added, “Actually…”

She stepped a little closer, close enough that you could smell the scent of her freshly sprayed perfume, even with the strong peppermint scent of the lollipop she wasn’t currently eating.

“I know you’re busy. And probably surrounded by people all the time. But…” Bada shifted the lollipop to the other hand. “Do you wanna go out sometime?”

Your heart definitely stuttered at that.

You blinked, caught off guard, not by the question itself, but the way she asked it—so chill, but you could tell it took a lot to say it out loud. There was no cockiness behind it, just quiet hope.

You pulled your mask down slightly so she could see your smile. “That was smooth. You rehearsed that?”

“Only, like… for the past few days,” she admitted with a breathy laugh.

“Well…” You glanced down at the lollipop in your hand, twirling it once between your fingers before looking back up at her. “Guess I kinda have to say yes. Would be rude not to after getting free candy.”

Bada’s face lit up like she just scored again.

“I’ll text Nakyoung,” you added. “She’ll probably scream.”

“Honestly,” Bada said, popping the lollipop back in her mouth and grinning around it, “I would too.”

[mythos-night]

Icy Blue Eyes

“So.” Supervillain swirled the glass in his hand, watching as the liquid whirled around. Villain stood at attention in front of him, nervous. “Hero, huh?”

Villain could’ve sworn he felt his heart stop. “What about him?” he managed to cough out after an awkward pause. 

Supervillain stopped swirling the cup. “I never told you anything. Yet here you are, looking like you just got caught committing a war crime.” He looked up, swiveling the office chair so it faced Villain fully. “But I’m glad we’re on the same page.” 

Villain tried to keep eye contact with his mentor. Those icy blue eyes seemed to always know every little detail of everything happening. It came with his power, Villain had come to realize. Supervillain’s power was being able to read people’s emotions and manipulate them. This was why Villain was now mentally kicking themselves for thinking they could simply hide their love for Hero from someone who could read minds. 

“I’ve told you about how my powers work. I see colors representing different emotions, and I can manipulate them to my liking. I take, and I give sadness. I can bring people’s worst nightmares out with a wrist flick. But do you know the one emotion I cannot manipulate no matter how hard I try?”

Villain swallowed thickly. “Love.”

Supervillain nodded. “Correct. I can’t make anyone fall in love, and I can’t take away that love, either. Amor Animi Arbitrio Sumitur, Non Ponitur. Love is taken by the choice of mind, not to be put down. Do you know what that means?” 

Villain knew the answer. Supervillain knew that. Supervillain’s Second-in-Command, Henchman, stood behind him, staring with an unreadable gaze that would make anyone squirm. But Villain was too focused on Supervillain to actually shudder. “We uh…” He licked his lips nervously. “We can choose to love, but we can’t choose to stop loving.”

“That’s Hero’s favorite phrase, isn’t it?” Supervillain paused. “No…Per aspera ad astra. Through hardships to the stars.” Villain felt sick. This was all nauseating. The way the phrases rolled off Supervillain’s tongue so easily, how he had managed to say not one but two of Hero’s favorite Latin phrases. 

“Sir, I-“ 

“I thought we were past the formalities.” Supervillain stood up sharply, causing Villain to flinch. “I can see it. I’ve seen it all. I’ve seen the light blue of uncertainty forming a halo around your head. The purple fear forms a chokehold around your neck. I can take those away easily.” He paused, ghosting his fingers around the edge of the desk. “I can’t just remove the love on your chest.”

Villain had to strain his ears to listen to the last part, but he knew deep down that Supervillain was right. 

Supervillain strolled around the desk until he was right in front of Villain. Villain felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Are you sorry?”

He swallowed. “For what?”

“Dating [Hero’s name].” 

Villain’s heart beat faster until he felt it would explode.

When he didn’t answer, Supervillain leaned forward. “Don’t lie.” He gritted out between his teeth. His icy blue eyes seemed to be the only thing Villain could focus on.

“No!” 

The room went still. Henchman stopped approaching them, frozen in place, and Villain was pretty sure Henchman had gone a shade paler. 

Supervillain paused and leaned against the desk, looking…content?

“I understand.” He said, his eyes glancing around the room before returning to Villain. “You’re dismissed, Villain. I’ve seen Hero fall to too many toxic partners before you. I just wanted to make sure.” Villain was honeslty surpised he walked out in one piece. Supervillain hated how corrupt the Hero Agency was and how other heroes only worked for the glamor. That’s what he loved about Hero, Villain had come to realize. How Hero did everything to keep people safe. He never wanted fame; he just wanted to save lives. But the toxic partners? Yes, Hero had had some partners who used him for fame, and maybe Supervillain had uncovered that. But why would he care? 

Villain didn’t understand what he meant until he saw those same icy blue eyes when he met Hero’s father the following week. 

Please tell me if this is cringe y'all I have next to no social skills. But yea! I hope you enjoyed and I am open to requests! Constructive Criticism is great appreciated :)

[jinjoohaa]

TOJI X READER !!!

Pairing - Toji fushiguro x reader (dad's friend! AU)

Under His Roof

Content Warnings (Please Read): Age gap, Power imbalance, Manipulation, Overstimulation , Corruption kink, Edging, Orgasm Denial, Degrading talk, Jealousy sex, First time sex, Size kink, Fingering, Grinding, Dry humping , Possessiveness/Obsession, Breeding kink, Spanking/Discipline, Biting / Marking, Angst & emotional manipulation, Soft/dom moments later on, Minors DO NOT INTERACT (18+ ONLY)

prev chapter

Chapter 15 - Final chapter

A few weeks passed. Quietly.

Too quietly.

Things with Toji had gotten strangely better now. No anger. No outbursts. No dragging you by the wrist or shutting you up mid-sentence. Just this unnerving calm.

Toji still came around—same old bottle in hand, same lazy smirk when your dad greeted him at the door. Usual stuff.

It was finally getting normal. Peace. Comfortable.

And that's when it happened.

---

The air felt a little too still when you opened the front door.

The hallway smelled faintly of bleach, like someone had scrubbed too hard in a hurry.

You hadn’t expected your dad to call you home with such urgency.

“Just come after class,” he’d said, his tone weirdly serious, almost guilty.

You thought maybe he’d found out something. Maybe he’d seen something between you and Toji he wasn’t supposed to.

Your heart had been racing all the way home—but nothing could’ve prepared you for what was actually waiting.

Toji was already there.

Of course he is.

Sitting on the couch. Casual. At ease. One leg over the other, a drink in his hand, eyes locked onto you the moment you stepped in.

And that damn smirk.

“You’re here,” your dad said, standing up from the dining table where a few papers were spread out.

“Come sit. We need to talk.”

Your gaze flicked between the two men. “Why is he here?” you asked, voice sharper than intended. “This is family stuff, isn’t it?”

Toji chuckled low. “I’m practically family, aren’t I?”

Your dad nodded, completely missing the undertone in Toji’s voice.

“He’s been helping me with a lot lately. I thought it’s best he’s here too.” He patted the seat next to him.

You sat—reluctantly. Toji didn’t take his eyes off you. Not for a second.

There was something territorial in the way he looked at you, like he was already claiming what wasn’t officially his yet.

Your dad inhaled, like he was bracing himself.

“I got transferred,” he said. “To another city. Bigger role. I start next month.”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

“I tried to see if they could make any adjustments, but...” he sighed. “It’s too good of an opportunity to turn down.”

A million thoughts rushed through your head. “Okay but—what about me? I can’t leave. My college is here—”

“I know, sweetheart. That’s why we thought you’d stay.”

Your heart stopped. “We?”

Toji’s voice slid in, calm and slow. “Your dad and I had a long talk. Makes sense for you to stay here. I’ve got space. And you’re comfortable with me, right?”

You looked at your dad like he’d lost his mind. “But dad—!?"

Your dad gave a tired smile. “It’s only for a year or two. Toji’s house is close to your college, you won’t have to move or adjust. He’ll take care of you.”

Your stomach turned. “I—I can take care of myself. We shouldn't bother him like this," you said to your dad.

“You’re still young, kiddo. You need someone looking out for you. I can’t just leave you alone in an apartment.” His tone turned gentle. “I trust Toji. More than anyone.”

“Dad—” you tried, a crack in your voice.

Toji leaned back, watching the whole thing like a show. “I don’t mind,” he said casually, swirling the ice in his glass. “But only if she wants to, of course.”

The mockery in his tone wasn’t missed. You flinched, chest tightening.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you whispered. “I’ll figure something else out—rent a place, maybe stay at a dorm—”

“Dorms are full this year,” your dad cut in. “And you know how much hassle it is to rent, especially for students. I don’t want you living with strangers.”

You tried to speak again, but Toji's voice cut through, smooth and sure.

“She’ll be safe with me. I’ll treat her like my own.”

The way he said it—low, almost amused.

Your dad nodded. “It’s settled then. I already talked to your aunt, and she agrees. No one’s better suited for this.”

You stared down at your lap, throat dry, mind racing.

Toji raised his glass slightly in your direction. “Looking forward to having you, kid.”

That smirk again.

You didn’t say a word. You couldn’t.

There's no room for argument.

Part of you was kinda okay with it, since you won't have to live in fear of dad finding out anymore.

But still, something was bothering you. An uneasiness.

Like the ground beneath your feet had tilted ever so slightly and no one else noticed.

---

You didn’t sleep that night. You kept hearing the echo of Toji’s words over and over in your head.

“She’ll be safe with me.”

Safe.

What a joke.

The sheets felt too warm. Your skin too tight. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of wind outside made you flinch.

You caught him alone the next day, in the garage while he helped your dad move some boxes. You didn’t even know why you were trying—you just had to say something. Anything.

“Toji… I—” you started, your voice barely above a whisper.

He turned to you slowly, eyes narrowing as he wiped his hands off with a rag. “Hm?”

You hesitated. Swallowed the lump in your throat. “I-I don’t think this is… fair. You… you can’t just—just treat me like—”

“Like what?” he interrupted, voice calm but laced with warning.

“Like something that already gave in to me more than once? Don’t act innocent now. We've already come into an agreement. I take care of you. You stay mine. That's it. Nothing more, nothing less."

Your lips parted, no words coming out.

He was right. In that quiet, twisted way of his—he always was.

“You having second thoughts now?” He stepped closer, cornering you against the wall with that same terrifying gentleness.

You gasped softly and shook your head.

“Say it,” he murmured. “Go on. Say you want to back out. That you want me to stop.”

You couldn’t. You knew you couldn’t.

Toji smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

He walked away like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just confirmed that you were already his.

---

Later that week, your dad finalized the move. Boxes left the house one by one, furniture packed, and your own bags slowly transferred to Toji’s place—room by room. There was no ceremony. Just resignation.

When your dad hugged you goodbye, he smiled with so much trust in his eyes. “Call me if anything, alright? And listen to Toji. He’s doing me a huge favor.”

You only nodded.

And then he was gone.

Toji was waiting at his place when you arrived with the last of your things.

Leaning against the doorframe with that same bottle of whiskey in his hand, he watched you carry your bag in like a pet who finally gave up running.

“Welcome home, princess,” he drawled. “Did a little something for you.”

You didn’t want to see it—but you had to. So you walked to the room he had set aside for you.

Soft lighting. Fresh sheets. The room smelled like cedarwood and something deeper, warmer. His scent. The bed was neatly made—maybe too neatly.

Your eyes fell on the nightstand. A single collar sat on top of it. Jet black. Plain. No tags.

You froze.

"Could try it when we. . . . y'know. . ." he grins.

Toji’s hand brushed over your lower back, slow and heavy.

“I like order,” he said, right near your ear. “I like my things where they belong. Now you’re under my roof.”

You turned to look at him, trembling slightly.

He was still calm—too calm. "No lies. No running. Yeah?"

“Toji—” you whispered.

He tilted your chin up with his fingers. "Hmm? We're gonna be happy, don't we?"

Your heart pounded. You didn’t nod. You didn’t shake your head.

You didn’t resist either.

Toji stepped back with a satisfied smirk. “Get some rest. You’ll need it.”

And as he left, you stood there in the center of his room—your room now—realizing you weren’t scared of what he might do anymore.

You were scared of what you might let him do.

---

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months.

By the time summer faded into fall, you and Toji had settled into a rhythm—your own quiet, twisted domestic life under one roof.

At first, everything was a little hard. You walked on eggshells, unsure when he might snap, scared of what he’d do next.

But something changed.

Maybe it was the satisfaction of finally having you under his control. Or maybe Toji had simply grown comfortable knowing he didn’t need to force anything anymore.

You were his now. Completely.

Your days started the same: breakfast in the quiet kitchen, sometimes made by him, sometimes by you—depending on how tired or sore you were from the night before.

You'd attend your classes during the day, headphones in, face down, living your college life like any other girl.

And when the clock hit the late afternoon, you'd always get that text from him: “Come home soon.”

Evenings were quiet. Toji worked out, showered, occasionally read the newspaper or watched TV. You’d cook if he asked, sometimes he helped you prep. It almost felt… normal.

He’d take you out sometimes—grocery shopping, walks through quiet neighborhoods, or lazy ramen dinners on Sunday nights.

To the world, he was your guardian, an uncle, a family friend doing a favor for your dad and you were the quiet college girl staying with a guardian.

Innocent.

Proper.

But behind closed doors, it was different.

Every glance, every touch, every shared silence said more than words ever could. The possessiveness hadn’t gone away; it had just taken a softer form. He didn’t need to threaten anymore. You were already too deep, too worn in, too molded by his hands.

Toji never apologized for how it began. He never needed to. But he grew gentler. He stopped taking what he wanted so harshly. He started asking— though you both knew you’d never say no.

Some nights, he’d hold you tighter, covered you with soft tender kisses. Whisper things like, “Two years, huh? Guess I’ve got you all to myself until then,” as if daring fate to take you away.

You never responded. Just let his warmth surround you as you drifted off on the bed he “specially" made for you.

He gave you freedom in public. You could go out, shop with your friends, hangouts, be normal. But you always returned home.

Always opened your bedroom door to find him waiting, or feel his hand slip over your waist while you were brushing your teeth.

Because no matter what anyone saw…

You were his.

Entirely. Secretly. Quietly.

You shared his bed now, not just his body. He touched you like you were precious—but always his. He never let you forget that. Every kiss reminded you. Every touch said it.

"Two years will fly by," he murmured one night, arm slung lazily around your waist as you lay tucked against him.

You nodded. You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

Because you weren’t going anywhere.

And he wasn’t letting you.

And you finally started finding the comfort and safety in his arms again— the same which drew you into him in the beginning.

And you had two more years to go, and honestly, it's gonna be a mixed bag—some days you'd feel like you were getting the hang of this, and others you'd still be figuring out what you signed up for.

But one thing stayed the same: he always called you home.

And you always went.

The End.

.

[lanascurse]

: ̗̀➛ Random shit in my jjk dr that just makes sense

─────────────────

⎯ The Gojo Satoru is a Sabrina Carpenter fan. He’s not ashamed either, despite barely understanding her songs. You’ll never NOT catch that man listening to Espresso on his way to a mission. And Bed Chem? It’s as if that song was made for him.

⎯ Ieiri cuts the smoking around me because she knows how sensitive to smoke I am. Despite claiming she quit years ago, she still lights a cigarette every now and then.

⎯ Suguru and I are roommates for a year due to me not being able to find my ideal home. Super random, it’s a long story. Oh, and he does not become a villain !

⎯ Kenjaku is defeated pre-2006 making a lot of the later events unable to happen (and intentionally 🙄). Literally fuck that dude. However, there are other villainous figures that take his place.

⎯ Yes, Sukuna DOES say “back in my day…”. Get that old ahh out of here 😭

⎯ Satoru legit sent me ¥500M at one point. It was related to the house situation.

⎯ Anytime Yuji is around me, that fuckass Sukuna always has to open his damn mouth. Poor boy is always embarrassed or ashamed as if it was him who said those things :(

⎯ Something more strange, the eye cream and body cream I use in my DR (which happen to be Japanese brands) suddenly appeared in a local store of mine in this reality. I’ve never seen or heard of these brands here in my whole life. I only knew them from my DR.

⎯ Toji gets his ass clapped by a bunch of teenagers and fails to kill Riko lmaooo

⎯ Nobara and Maki love to hang around me. If they have tea to spill, they come to me. Even if it’s something petty, I still engage as if I were still a schoolgirl 😭

⎯ My home country isn’t war torn :)

⎯ Megumi SOMETIMES refers to me as a “female Gojo” due to our similar personalities (however, he says I’m more tolerable lmao). I also call him Fushigumi. He claims he hates that name, yet he instantly turns his head when he hears it. But god forbid Satoru were to call him that…

⎯ Mahito is eradicated by Sukuna. At least one good thing he has done for humanity !

⎯ Haibara is alive and well!! Along with Nanami, who is…a little less gloomy? Ino and Haibara legit idolize Nanami, it’s actually adorable.

⎯ Honestly, sometimes I be having bi panic when I’m around my friends. Shoko??? Gojo??? Geto????? Why are they all so fucking hot? But don’t tell them I said that ;)

⎯ I get 2 bunnies after finally finding the house of my dreams. Nobody’s allowed to mess with them 🙄💅

⎯ You know that part during Juno after the bridge? Yeah, that’s the only way I can describe how freeing it feels being in this reality. Despite all the curses and the unbearable higher-ups, I genuinely have fun but also have a variety of things I can do. Especially when I’m surrounded by trusting, loving people :) !!!

─────────────────

this list is a mix of things that have happened or that have been scripted intentionally beforehand !!

[cuppajj]

You know, I just really, really want to say this. You are an exceptionally talented artist. I was genuinely surprised when you answered that one ask a while ago, saying you're self-taught. Because I truly, legitimately believed you were an art student or something lol. I'm honestly blown away by the fact that you're self-taught. That you figured all of this out all by yourself. Both your Cookie Run stuff and your original work. You should be proud, because I know it must've taken you a lot of time and hard work to get to where you are today. I both admire you greatly and envy you terribly (the latter stings a little to say, but it's true haha). I wish I could do what you can. You make it all look so easy... I wish I could say I'm your equal, but I'm far from it and I'm not sure how long it'll take for me to get there, or if I'll ever get there at all. But seeing what you're able to accomplish now is really rather inspiring. If you can do it, then maybe I can, too. Someday. Somehow. If only it could be today, though haha

Sorry if I sound weird or mushy, I've actually wanted to say this to you for a while now. I sincerely hope you find pride and joy in your art because you deserve to. Your drawings, your animations, even your writing. You're a jack of all trades haha. You're a very talented, creative, fun and hardworking person. And I wish you all the joy and success in the world, all the time. You've got something really great going here, keep it up for as long as you're able and willing to

Aww Merchant, that’s so sweet of you!!

I don’t often think of how far I’ve come mostly all by myself, let alone the message it can carry.. admittedly one of my biggest artist flaws is acknowledging my accomplishments haha, so this message really means a lot!

If I could give any advice for you:

Believe me when I felt like my art style was stagnating for the longest time, but I’ve come to learn that in just four years I’ve gone from having okay-but-mid art to making some pieces that impress the worst critic in myself!! And really the only thing that changed was my mindset. I stopped wanting to make high quality stuff every time and instead focused on the gradual grind. Commitment is what makes or breaks an artist.

And sadly, art is not easy. You’re going to hate how your art looks. You’re going to be envious of other artists. You’re going to compare yourself. I was like that once, still have those moments today. But the secret to truly feeling like your art is yours is to acknowledge that you’re constantly improving. Don’t call yourself an equal (or a superior or inferior) to anyone, because that implies there’s an established objective tier of artists with you below people you’re inspired by. Every artist has their own flow, their own starting point, their own ways of growing, which makes comparison unfair and more unhealthy than you think!

I’ve seen your redraw of Pepper Jack and Celestial Cheese, and your art has changed a lot within a year for the better. I think that’s a sign! The only difference between you and me is I started before you. But, that’s neither a right or a wrong thing, just a fact that has no effect on you.

I think the only goal an artist should have is learning to appreciate the art they make. I’m still reaching for that myself, and someday you’ll get there if you try! Just be less hard on yourself. Acknowledge where you are and where you were. And most importantly, keep at it! You might be surprised how much can change in another year

[motherofpirates]

Steve and Robin told Eddie all about finding out that Starcourt was a front for a Russian station that was trying to reopen the Upside Down, which led to Steve and Robin being tortured and drugged, then rescued by Dustin and Erica.

They paused as Betty returned with their order. It turned out the usual for Steve was fries and a coke and an extravaganza of a chocolate milkshake for Robin with chocolate fudge running down the inside of the glass and a mound of whipped cream on top, which she dipped one of Steve’s fried into.

“…anyway, to lay low and wait for the others we snook into the movie theatre which was showing Back to the Future. It was A. Lot. For our mangled brains to take in and we’re still not too hot on what was actually happening, so you can see why the dingus is confused. It all culminated in us puking our guts up in the Starcourt bathroom before I bared my soul to Stevie about liking girls and we bonded over my realisation that Tammy Thompson sounds like a muppet when she sings.”

“She has awful taste in women, I mean, Tammy Thompson! You could do so much better.” Steve pointed a fry at Robin which she snatched from his hand to dunk in her shake. “And that was before we got chased by a huge monster made up of mangled people whilst Dustin sang that Never Ending Story song with Suzie, who I wasn’t one hundred percent sure existed up until that point.”

Eddie’s mouth hung open, “That is the most insane shit I’ve ever heard, if I hadn’t been to the Upside Down and seen some of that shit too, I would never in a million years believe any of what you just told me was true. And do you know what the most unbelievable part of that story is, Buckley, it’s the fact you had a crush on someone so terminally uncool as Tammy Thompson.”

“Can it, Munson, you can’t talk.” She narrowed her eyes at him knowingly before kicking him under the table.

Eddie pursed his lips together and focused on the remainder of his burger. Steve looked between the two of them wondering what they were going on about.

“Something either of you would like to share with the class?” He asked, Eddie shook his head his mouthful of burger, whilst Robin slurped the last of her shake ignoring the question. “Oooookay then.” Steve shrugged as he took a swig of his Coke.

____________________________________

If you liked this come find me over on AO3. This is a snippet of a fic of mine called I Want You to Want Me. Here is the link https://archiveofourown.org/works/64633807/chapters/166024711

[hayanwulf]

“Should I know you? Feels like I know you.”

Stephen’s heart dropped as soon as that voice registered. Even with the robotic filter, he could tell who that voice belonged to even in a dream.

Forgetting all about the monstrosity of tentacles that he had wrapped under golden ropes mere inches away from his feet, slowly, very slowly, Stephen turned around.

There Tony was, hovering in his suit of gold and red.

Oh god, please no.

Tony gently touched down on the ground, close to Stephen — way closer than he would prefer — as the suit’s repulsors powered down. “I would ask what the hell did I just watch, but actually, I’ve got more important questions.”

Tony retracted his helmet, taking two more steps towards Stephen, putting them mere four feet apart now. Stephen’s heart thundered in his chest as the genius stared straight into Stephen’s eyes, his gaze so intense and sharp that it was almost overwhelming. There was no way Tony could tell who he was, right?

Right?

“Does your name happen to be Victor Strange?”

Silence took over the field as Stephen took a couple of seconds to process that sentence.

Victor. Stephen’s... Evelyn’s only remaining living family, estranged decades ago, sharing the same eyes as Evelyn and Donna: heterochromic eyes with blue and green.

Tony thought.. he thought that Stephen was Victor.

Of course. It made sense. Stephen did look very similar to the female form he had left behind; the transformation spell had changed his feminine features into masculine, but the shape of his face, the curve of his nose, the frame of his lips, the pupils of his eyes, all these things were still the same.

He did have more prominent cheekbones now; it was the most striking and discernible change he had observed in his facial features after the transformation, and honestly, he liked it.

But back to the present — Tony had never seen Victor, even in a photo, and his extent of information on the man was limited to what Stephen had told him over quiet conversations at late night cuddles under dim light.

And so.. meeting a stranger like this now, who looked so much like a certain someone Tony had loved in the past, but she had only one remaining blood family... of course it made sense that Tony immediately jumped to the conclusion that Stephen must be Victor.

Which.. it was good. It meant that Tony did not know who Stephen truly was, it meant that Tony would not figure it out.

Then why was Stephen’s heart twisting inside his chest? Why did it feel so wrong, why did Stephen have this overwhelming desire to just tell Tony who he was?

“Victor,”

Stephen jolted at Tony’s voice, snapping out of his thoughts, and looked at the genius.

“Do you..” Tony paused, then swallowed, and tried again. “Is Evelyn with you? She.. I haven’t been able to contact her after her accident, she just up and left without telling anything. I’m.. I’m worried about her.”

“What are you, an obsessive ex?” The words left Stephen’s mouth before he could allow himself to second guess. He immediately wanted to kick himself and take his words back.

Tony looked affronted. “I was her friend before I was her lover,” he said, voice low and flat. Stephen stopped himself from flinching, feeling like a lead knife was jabbed into his heart. “And I still was after she broke up. But she wouldn’t accept help from anyone after the accident. Wouldn’t even talk to us. And then she just suddenly sells her apartment and disappears off the face of earth. I have the right to be worried and to know how she is.”

Each word pierced another arrow into his heart. Stephen thought he could shrivel up and die right here. He’d be lucky if that happened.

Instead, he had to face a Tony who looked entirely composed, but whose eyes burned with fury, ready to defend his loyalty and friendship. Stephen found it harder and harder to resist lowering his eyes in shame.

After a few moments of intense staring, Tony closed his eyes, took a step back, and inhaled a deep breath. When he turned back to Stephen again, the hardness in his features had melted to give way to exhaustion and a quiet resignation. “Look.. all I want to know is if she’s okay.”

She’s dead, Stephen wanted to say. She’s not coming back, ever. Why are you still waiting for her?

Stephen had no idea what Evelyn had done in her life to earn the love and devotion of this man. This beautiful, impossible, stubborn man.

“She’s.. doing much better now,” Stephen said. It was all he could give Tony.

And Tony took it. His shoulders relaxed. Something in his eyes eased up. He took the little crumb of bread Stephen gave him and accepted it as if it had stopped him from starving to death.

Stephen hadn’t thought it was possible for one man to feel as much shame and guilt as he was feeling at the moment.

“Thank you,” Tony breathed quietly. “Thank you. Does she live with you? Is she—”

No, no. Stephen could not do this. He could not stand in front of the man he loved like a stranger and talk about a persona that he had never wanted to be, a persona that was dead now.

“I’m done here,” he snapped, and turned away from Tony to focus on the incapacitated eldritch creature that lay behind them. A few quick hand gestures and it was banished back to the dimension it belonged to.

“Okay, did you really just make it go poof? Like a rabbit in a hat?” Tony stepped forward and waved an arm over the spot where the creature was a second ago, no doubt running several different kinds of sensors and scanners over the area, only to find nothing and immediately turn to Stephen. “Seriously, how’d you do that? Where did it go?”

Instead of responding to any of the questions, Stephen turned around and began to walk away from the scene.

“Wait, Victor!” Tony quickly rushed to block Stephen’s way. “Can I call you Victor?”

Stephen did not respond to that either — let Tony assume that Stephen was his estranged brother, and not ...her — and forced himself to move and shoulder past Tony. “Leave me alone, Stark. I have no more business with you.”

His voice had never felt colder than it did at that moment.

Not waiting for any response from Tony, he drew a portal to the courtyard of Kamar-Taj and stepped through. He should close the portal immediately. He knew in his mind he needed to, before Tony could try to call out to him again, try to persuade him into listening, because god, he was so weak for Tony, but he couldn’t give in. He couldn’t.

No more calls came from Tony, though. But Stephen was still a weak man. Slowly, he turned to his side and glanced back on the other side of the portal, taking one last look at the man he loved with all his heart, but could never have now.

Tony’s eyes were on the portal, his face a mix of awe and fear. He wasn’t only looking at the portal, though. No, his eyes wandered on the view on the other, scanning, searching for something. Something he wasn’t going to find ever, now.

His eyes, brown swirls filled with so much fleeting hope, settled on Stephen at last.

It was all Stephen could do to not run straight back through the portal and pull Tony into his arms.

He turned his back on the portal and let it dissipate into golden sparks. Guilt and heartache immediately clawed at him, wondering what Tony was doing now on the other side, what he was thinking, what he was feeling.

He forced the thoughts away, tried to clamp his feelings down into a box to be locked up and thrown away to the farthest corner of his conscience. Because it didn’t matter what he felt, or what he wanted.

Because Evelyn Strange was dead, and there was only Stephen Strange now.

And Stephen Strange had no place in Tony’s life. Most definitely not in the void left behind in Tony’s heart by Evelyn.

[violxtdreams]

smol theory about how morella died

TW for discussions of death!! also SPOILERS for recent episodes in Season 2 (not fast pass ones)

so as i was rereading all the episodes we have as of now i noticed that Morella is probably the character we know the least about right now when it comes to what her life was like prior to dying and ending up in nevermore. Duke was a magician sabotaged during a show, Pluto had an abusive and alcoholic dad that probably offed him one way or another, Ada was a maid killed by her lover in the middle of the woods, etc. (we don’t know how Lenore died either but there’s a lot more content to speculate on that) we even know that Berenice was run over by a suspicious man despite our lack of lore on her that we’ll (probably) get soon.

i’ve heard small theories here and there that Morella died during the great famine in Ireland, which i didn’t subscribe to at first becuz no one had a death explicitly tied to a historical event like that… until we got Will backstory bits that seemed to take place during a period of severe dust storms—the dehydration from that would explain why his last meal of choice would have been peaches and a glass of water.

so i thought about how Morella’s chosen last meal was shepherd’s pie, a food made using leftover meat and popular among people in poverty. in episode 104 it’s also noticed by Eulalie that Morella is a rather good cook. when she asks where Morella learned, the latter brushes it off. and it’s pretty evident by now that people still retain their learned skills, behaviors and whatnot from when they were in the land of the living, like Duke with lockpicking.

so now cuz of all of this i actually think that it would make sense for her death to have happened cause of the Irish famine, whether directly or indirectly. the only thing is that i struggle to tie it in with the following—

her spectre being a guardian which strongly suggests she died trying to save/help/protect someone. this wouldn’t be a difficult puzzle piece into fit if not for the one below

the pattern of most the deaths being murders or close to being murders (Annabel was shot, Duke sabotaged, Montresor straight up tied to a railroad, Will was left for dead, that fire that burnt down the building Eulalie was in could have been intentional, based on the vision of Prospero’s fear courtesy of Ada he may have been wrongly operated on, etc etc only Lenore may not have been murder due to the lack of info)

the thing i have in mind is that she tried to get other people to eat, feed them, gave them food or something along those lines but someone found that stupid to say the least and either punished her by withholding food and making her starve or some other more obvious way of committing homicide due to her being seen as a liability, but maybe there’s better options out there that i just can’t think of lmao

[frogsinflannel]

🦸 Some more superhero AU please!

raaaawr I am actually going to write this. I WILL get it done, I WILL finish. Thank you for this ask, I need the encouragement! I hope you enjoy this snippet. I'm letting y'all in on a very minimal little surprise plot point here, too, ha ha.

~

Buck has to pause and rewind what he’d just thought.  Not a date.  It’s not a date.  Pilot is offering him a chance to ask some questions off the record, take a photo, maybe set up a time for a real interview later.  And sure, yeah, they’re having dinner together and the city skyline is laid out before them bright and buzzing.  It could be considered romantic.  Maybe.  If Pilot was interested in him like that.

He picked at the lettuce in his sandwich, kicking his legs over the edge of the balcony.  “You could uh… you could catch me if I fall right?”

Pilot turned his head to look at him, one brow raised in question.  Quickly he chewed the bit of sub he had in his mouth and swallowed, then gave Buck a bemused smile.  “Are you planning to fall?”

“No,” he says with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck.  “But, uh.  Y-you can fly.  So if I did fall, then.  Couldn’t you… Uh, wouldn’t you try to catch me?”

“Sure,” he says with a shrug.  His smile turns sly and he holds up the remains of his dinner, still wrapped in foil.  “This is too good to waste, though, so I’ll only have the one hand.”  Buck laughs, liked he’d obviously intended, and Pilot looks pleased with himself over it.  “Don’t worry, Evan,” he says.  “I would catch you.  I wouldn’t let you get hurt.”

“Yeah.”  He looks away, focusing on the food in his lap, feeling his cheeks heat up.  It’s… silly, to be embarrassed.  He clears his throat and tries to ignore how red he knows he is.  At least it’s dark.  “Cool.  That’s… that’s cool.”

Pilot just nods and smiles and goes back to dinner.  Buck wonders idly if the strength of his powers means he’s got a higher burning metabolism.  

It’s not awkward as they sink back into silence, at least it shouldn’t be–but Buck certainly feels awkward.  It’s not a date and he’s not thinking about Pilot catching him mid-air in his huge arms and all this is off the record anyway so it doesn’t matter, right?  That’s what Buck’s telling himself.  It doesn’t matter.

But that doesn’t stop him from trying to break that quiet.  “So, uh.  Since this is off the record… I feel like I can’t keep calling you The Pilot.”

“Or The Hot Pilot,” he interjects.  “I’ve seen that, too.”

Buck rolls his eyes but it’s not like he’s wrong.  “O-okay, sure, but.  Can I at least get a name?  That I could call you?”

That earns him the bitchiest look and he lets out a breathy chuckle before he even realizes he’s doing it.  “Not your secret identity,” he assures Pilot.  “Though, uh, I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“You have a secret identity.”

“I guess it’s not… it’s not an identity, exactly, or.  A-at least it’s not another one.  I only have the one.”  He swallows, suddenly nervous.  “You know they all me Buck, right?  It’s for my last name.  Buckley.”  He waits.  “As in—”

“As in Buckley.  Margaret and Phillip Buckley?  The billionaire philanthropists.”

He can’t stand seeing what might be on Pilot’s face, so he keeps his eyes fixed on his knees.  “Yep,” he says, popping that last ‘p.’  “Those are my parents.”

~

MAKE ME WRITE

[milgramfessing]

People are really odd when it comes to Mu in general. People swing between saying she's never done anything wrong ever, excusing her for literally telling the only doctor in the prison that Haruka was fine and implying he was eating,

24/06/22 (Haruka’s Birthday)

Shidou: ……I’m worried about Sakurai-kun. I haven’t seen him around in a while. You’ve been talking with him, right?

Mu: He’s fine. Here, look. I’ve been taking his food to him like this every day. Isn’t that great of me?

Shidou: Yes, very. I’m sorry I’ve been leaving it to you to look after him. Usually, that would be the job of us adults, and yet we’re leaving you with the burden.

Mu: Don’t worry about it. After all, me and Haruka-kun are friends.

Belittle her character by implying she's too stupid to understand the consequences of her behavior or the feelings of others around her. Despite how caring, observant, and socially aware she has shown herself to be over the course of the series.

20/05/28

Mu: It’s weird…… Even though we’re locked up in a place like this…… everyone seems fine. …………nothing’s happened to me so far…… b-but, who knows when they’ll do something horrible to me…… ……hey, are you listening to me? What are you staring at……?

Amane: I’m not staring at anything.

Mu: Liar, you definitely are…… What is it……? That rabbit? Jackalope…… I think that’s what it’s called. ……do you want to pet it?

Amane: ………… Eh, you want to pet it? If you want to, then I’ll be happy to go over and join you.

20/08/01

Mu: Somehow, he feels even fluffier today than usual…… so soft…… Ah, Haruka, do you want to touch too? Jackalope, I mean……

Haruka: Ah, I-I’m fine…… I’m n-not good, with animals…...

Amane: Hm. To think you’d have a problem with something so cute. You’re a really strange person, Haruka-san.

Haruka: …………I guess so.

All of her characterization gets downplayed and ignored as soon as she's done something harmful. In order to lessen her conscious involvement. People rudely go what was she meant to do to help Haruka she took him food she was trying her best to dissuade him.

Honestly, a good first fucking step would be to bring him something he can actually swallow and would settle on his stomach.

But maybe people are woefully ignorant of how starvation works. Maybe a lot of people don't know if you go long enough without food it becomes painful to even swallow or chew food. So bringing a starving man a whole fish and rice isn't the "I want to help" move people are making it out to be. But how was she supposed to know that- May I take you back to the timeline where she actively disuaded a doctor from checking on him?

Because I think the actual doctor would have been able to know and help in this situation while he was still alive.

If other characters can be responsible for how their actions or inaction indirectly hurt someone in and outside of Milgram despite how they couldn't have possibly known that would be the result what makes Mu better than anyone else who didn't know that they would happen, what makes her more deserving of justifications related to her age and alleged lack of knowledge?

The fucking kicker here is they canonically have something that would have saved Haruka's life in Milgram. If only it was just fucking given to him by one of the two parties that knew what he was doing before the point of no return.

20/06/09

Yuno: Thanks for the meal~! ……huh? Kotoko-san, what’ve you got? That’s so unfair, only you getting to drink something that looks so good.

Kotoko: ……it’s a whey protein shake. It doesn’t taste particularly good or anything. I sent a request for it to the guard. The food we get here isn’t bad in terms of nutrient balance, but it’s a bit lacking in protein for me personally.

Yuno: A protein shake, huh. I’ve never tried one before. It looks kinda like a lassi. Can I have a sip?

Kotoko: ……just one sip. Oi, that’s more than a sip. This is supposed to become my muscle.

But how could you be so sure Haruka could have been stopped through this method?

Well, for starters, it's something he'd be able to consume a little more easily (but may not be painless depending on how long it's been), unlike the food Mu was bringing. Two, it's something one could, in theory, force him to drink if it came to that.

Furthermore, protein drinks are literally what are recommended to help someone who has gone a long period without food get back into eating, be it due to illness or by choice. Because after going a long period withoit food it's not ussually recommended to eat foods that are heavy or too complex. It's either this, fluids, or a feeding tube. So, this is just something that factually could have straight up saved his life.

Beyond all that, he flat out admits this could have stopped him through him going out of his way to ask Kotoko (the one who has this) specifically not to interfere with his plan along with him being implied to have told her exactly what his plan was when asking her to not intervene.

23/12/15 (Kotoko’s Birthday)

Haruka: ……please, don’t tell anyone. And also, please, don’t get involved. All I can do, is ask, you……

Kotoko: ––Fufu, fufufufufu.That’s a crazy thing to be thinking. Honestly, it’s weird. But I don’t hate it. If only all the wrongdoers were like you.

Haruka: No…… that’s wrong…… That’s not, why I’m doing, this…… This, isn’t for me…… I have to protect…… so, Kotoko-san…… please……

Kotoko: Eh? Ah, yeah, yeah. Well, I promise I won’t get in your way. Honestly, if I could, I’d love to do it myself, but I’ll step back this time. As for what happens next…… I wonder. It depends on Es.

The Milgram prisoners have a shared kitchen. Everyone had access to this unless Kotoko was just hoarding it in her room, which I doubt. Yet even so, if anyone else was made aware of Haruka's plan earlier then they could have simply requested protein shakes themselves. Haruka did not have to die like this.

This is what makes Futa consistently bringing up the fact Haruka could have been saved so sad.

Futa (Trial 3 Voice Lines)

1 – Kajiyama Futa. Heh… Hahahaha. I see. Looking back, I probably didn’t need to be so scared.

2 – Who cares about forgiving and not forgiving any more. I don’t care about all the annoying voices I kept hearing. There’s something else more important to follow.

3 – I’m different from how I used to be. That person taught me. About faith, about the new world. It’s all down to me…

4 – There was nothing that could be done about the two who went against the commandments, but I feel bad for Haruka. He could’ve been saved like I was.

5 – Just leave everyone to that person. They can save this prison. Just look at me, I’ve already been saved!

It's what makes this timeline so sad,

24/04/19 (Futa’s Birthday)

Futa: ––Hey, are you really ok with this? If you come with me, there’s a chance you can be saved too…… Haruka.

Haruka: Yeah…… I’ve made my mind up. I have, something, that I have to do.

Futa: Ah, is that right…… Haruka, you know, you’re an idiot. There’s no way…… that will save you……

Haruka: Yeah, thank you. I’m glad you came to talk to me, Futa. Um, thank you, for being so kind. Really. But, I’m sorry. This is all I’m able to do……

Because it's the truth if he went with Futa in that moment if, he chose not to follow through when displayed the alternatives- Haruka would still be here. He would have a proper trial three and a song. Yet, instead of actually showing some consideration and understanding towards the people rightfully upset about the fact they won't have that closure with a character, they grew to care so much about...

Haruka and his characterization has been reduced to simple pity fodder for Mu. So people can go well she tried, she didn't fully understand, she's hurting too that was her friend, or the real kicker-

"Well, you should vote her innocent because that's what Haruka wanted. It's what he did that for. Do you want his last actions in the narrative to be in vain? This is why you should forgive her even though she didn't do as much for him as she could have. She just really didn't know."

As though we should just ignore the fact that despite Haruka crying out in All-Knowing All- Agony that he didn't want to be wiped out,

"Don’t wipe me out, don’t wipe me out- I just want to be your good boy."

Despite him saying blatantly he didn't want to die,

Q.17 How old do you want to live to be?

Haruka: I never thought about it. I don’t want to die.

The people who his character meant so much to are just meant to fall in line and show forgiveness to the person who blatantly said

"Why would I?"

When asked if she was trying to stop him since she knew his plan.

Mu Queen B 12:36s

Mu: Ah- But if you don't forgive me, Haruka-kun will die. So, I think it'd be best not to do that.

Es: ...!

[BELL TOLLS]

Es: So, you've heard about that nonsense, too?

Mu: Mhm. Haruka-kun told me. So I could rest easy, according to him. That made me happy... It made me really feel our friendship!

Es: You know about it, and you're not trying to stop him? Haruka, that is?

Mu: Why would I? Haruka-kun says that's what he wants, so there's nothing I can do, right?

Not letting people mourn and recognize what they've lost along with the unjust nature of that loss all to secure one's own personal comfort- To push forward in ways such as that is an inconsiderateness that's simply the definition of unfairness to me.

Especially while other people within the fandom are allowed to mourn the loss of characters they loved due to the events of the series- Blaming whoever they feel fit be it characters within the series or fans of it. All the while many haphazardly attempt to revise in real time what occurred to defend a character who I don't doubt has a significant amount of depth and emotionality but feel a lot of characterization is being ignored in the way people try to bend and stretch her to fit this idea of what an innocent person to them may be.

Though people may simply do this to ignore her character and the rest of the prisoners' ability to purposefully and knowingly commit harm, something rooted deeply in all ten of their characterizations. I'm sick of seeing people act like Mu is being wrongfully held to task over something she had no involvement in. From the start to Haruka, Mu was the only reason he did this, and the only reason he felt it was all he could really do.

23/04/07

Haruka: Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. PleaseforgiveMu-sanpleaseforgiveMu-sanpleaseforgiveMu-sanpleaseforgiveMu-sanpleaseforgiveMu-sanpleaseforgiveMu-san

23/06/22 (Haruka’s Birthday)

Mu: Haruka-kun, I brought your food. Are you still alive? Has any mould started growing?

Haruka: ……ah, thank you very much. Mu-san. Sorry, um…… I……

Mu: You shouldn’t just lock yourself in your room all day. You have to eat your food properly. Hm, well…… I do understand why you’re feeling down. It feels bad. The atmosphere recently.

Haruka: Um, I’m totally fine…… Just a bit, I’m thinking, about how to do it. What to do, what to do, to…… fulfil my promise. For Mu-san’s sake……

"This is all I’m able to do……"

"Haruka Sakurai"- The Third Trial 1:00s

Haruka: .....don't worry, Mu.

Mu: About what......

Haruka: ......you're going to be innocent, I know it.

Mu: ......you really think so?

Haruka: ......yes......

Mu: Haruka......you're ok with this......?

Haruka: Yes...... I'm so happy...... I helped you, I helped someone......

"I changed......I'm...... useful now......"

There's a lot of factors involved here, and I can understand caring about a character deeply and wanting to see them do well.

Yet, being Innocent doesn't equate to being better. Just being accepted isn't the end all be all cure for the problems people will face in their lives or within themselves.

Some characters aren't here to receive that acceptance or rejection anymore, and I think a lot of conversations surrounding Mu ignore that fact. As well as how many fans of the series have the right to be upset by it. Regardless of how others may rationalize and dismiss Mu's involvement.