#I love putting him in stressful situations

[luludeluluramblings]

Neglected!Pregnant!Reader x Yandere!Bat Family Part Five

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Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Four

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Warnings: Pregnancy, Yandere themes, Fem!Reader, made up lore, Guns (Rubber bullets), mentions of termination, Bruce being really delusional, Conner being a bit of a creep, 3.2k words oops

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You can feel your heart rate rising and the blood rushing to your head so fast that you nearly grow lightheaded once again.

Multiple things happen after Bruce says those words, but you don’t care. Too focused on not launching yourself out of Conner’s arms and tearing into Bruce with your teeth. An effort you know would be futile, but how goddamn satisfying would it feel for his skin to break under those blunt teeth of yours? Very.

“Excuse me?” The words leave your lips before anyone else can utter a word.

“Bruce.” You’d even beaten Superman with your rage, but you shot him a glare of your own. Making his pause his attempt at playing peacemaker in this situation.

“Stay out of this, Kent.” You'd almost be disturbed by how much you sounded like Damian when he was annoyed with his friend. But, Clark wasn't your friend in this situation and you were willing to find out if he had a spine of steel at that moment with all the spitefulness bubbling on your tongue.

It’s a struggle, but you shove out of Conner’s arms and start to storm near Bruce. Not too close. No, you won’t get close enough for him to hurt you ever again. “Listen here you bat-mad-motherfucker—“

“Language.” The man interrupts.

The man being being Bruce fucking Wayne.

Bruce would admit he was a stubborn, but most importantly he was a paranoid and terrified person deep down. Possibly a fool with how enraged you were looking at him. But, this wasn’t pride controlling his actions. This was fear.

Memories of the stress Lois was under while pregnant with Jon. How sick she had looked. How he had been more than willing to help Clark then, but how foolish he thought the man was for putting someone he apparently loved in such a high risk situation.

All the statistical data he had memorized over the years from just regular pregnancies and their risk. Of the horror stories of mothers dying in hospital beds. Even flashes of his own mother's face when he had asked once for a sibling as a child only to see he smile with devastation hidden behind the same eyes she shared with you about how he was enough.

Later he had found the records. Ectopic pregnancy. Hysterectomy. He was lucky he had her until that luck ran out in that alleyway. She never spoke of it either. She didn't even mention it to Alfred or anyone Which made him ache and fear more.

But, now the ghost of her was standing in front of him like he was the gunman that night and glaring him down with a furry that he sometimes saw only in his darkest moments in puddles left on the Gotham pavement after long nights.

“I’ll say it in French if I have too. There is no we in this situation. Just me and my child. You are not included in this. None of the family is included in this.” As you berate into him he finds himself holding on to his fear. Clinging to it the same way he clings to the notions that your his little girl and he needs to keep you safe from the world.

“What you're carrying is partially Kryptonian fetus from an—“

“I don’t fucking care if this child was part Xenomorph. You have no say. No, God damn, say.” There's an awkward laugh from someone at the thought, but whoever it came from bites their lips and chokes it down.

“It’s dangerous.” Bruce finds himself insisting. It’s not about controlling you. He swears it isn’t.

“They’re my baby.” But, you’re his baby.

“You’re being irrational.” The argument spirals.

“You’re being an asshole.” Immature, yet true. He never claimed he wasn’t. But, he’ll bend logical to his will to protect you.

“You need to think clearly. This could jeopardize your health, your life, your safety. That thing is dangerous.” Bruce takes a step in your direction, only to watch as you take a step back.

“That thing is your fucking grandson.” Don’t say that. Don’t tell him what it is. It could hurt you, please don’t make him love it. Don’t make him remember that he didn’t get to hold you.

“I say no.”

“And I say you have no fucking say.”

“I am your father, you will-“ Wrong thing to say, because words start spilling from your mouth like a thousand little cuts. Biting insults and feelings that he suspected you had hidden, but didn’t expect you to hit him with like this.

“You’re just an asshole that fucked my mother. And, newsflash, you ain’t the only one that did that. Hell, I bet you weren’t even the best one at it. You’re just the only one that left something stuck inside her and nine months later I popped out for you to ignore.”

Each word of your anger feels justified in your mind . Nothing was off limits as the libel escaped your lips. Bubbling out of you chest was harsh words that you’d bottled up, but hormones fucked with your control and they slid off your tongue with ungodly ease as tears bubbled in your eyes.

"You chose Batman and Gotham over me.” You murmur. The sick realization you had that day he appeared into your life. He had known. Known about you existence. But, he left you. He had all the resources available to just... check on you. To let you know he at least somewhat cared. And, he didn’t.

“You think I didn't realize that when you showed up at Momma and Daddy's funeral to whisky me away to your haunted mansion? You could have come for me at any point in time. You can't say you didn't know I existed. You've just been really damn good at ignoring me."

Your own heart aching as you practically shout at him. Feeling like a little girl waiting for her dad to give her attention even though you’re not. Not anymore.

"But, I accepted that less than five months after moving into this empty house you keep on top of your real goddamn home." You remind yourself, you’re not a little girl. Even as you spin in that gave to show off what he had picked over you.

You already had a father. And, it wasn’t Bruce Wayne even if blood said otherwise.

"You didn't get to act like you have a say in my life now, if ever again. I'm grown. And, I will pick my son over you. Every. Single. Time. I want to be this child's mother more than I have ever wanted to be your daughter." The words true and concrete as you let your feeling pour out of you like a faucet. And, you look up, meeting the his gaze and you see…

He has that same stupid stoic expression.

And, that fills you with rage.

“You have a whole life ahead of you. Why are you risking it for a mis—“

“Don’t you dare fucking finish that sentence!” You snarl, moving to grab one of Jason’s guns from his thigh hostler in a surprising show of speed. Startling him and the rest of the family observing the absolute shit show going on in stunned silence.

There’s a few gasp and intakes of breath. But, everyone, including you, know it’s loaded with rubber bullets.

“If you dare call them that! Not unless you're willing to admit I was one too!” You hold it pointed at him. But, he doesn’t flinch. Doesn't even rise to your challenge.

Bruce, strangely, feels proud in this moment. Your conviction reminds him of his own. Reminds him of his mother. Reminds him of your mother. He knows he’s not going to change your mind. He knows he’s going to have to accept that.

But, he has to try one last time. You just don’t understand how dangerous this is.

“It’s too—“

You don’t let him finish, you lower the gun. Look him dead in the eyes and fire.

Normally, Bruce could handle a rubber bullet. He’s fought unpredictable criminals that play dirty all the time. He was prepared to expect anything from his children even.

He didn’t expect you to shoot him in the dick though.

“Oh, my god…”

“She shot the Batpole!”

“Jason, how strong are those bullet?!”

“She didn’t even aim!”

“Pregnant women are terrifying…”

Bruce can barely keep his composure as he feels his knees weaken. He may have been wearing his suit, armor and cup sewn in. But, that still hurt like a bitch.

But, it didn’t hurt as much as the way you looked at him before your next words made his world fall apart.

“I will be moving out soon.” You said, loudly. Announcing a fact, one that you refused to let anyone object too. The only sound after was Jason’s gun clattering to the floor as you carelessly let it drop from your hands and left. Without looking back.

Bruce swore, for all his screw ups, for all his miscalculations and fears that made him human, he’d get you back and keep you safe. And, if it meant you had your son in your arms, so be it. Besides, a baby might be good for the family.

Though as his eyes met Clark's he realized, this was going to be a new kind of battle all together.

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You made it back to your room and collapsed in exhaustion as the intense emotions started to wear off and leave you feeling empty. Only for that to last for six minutes before Stephanie was in your room.

You hadn’t even heard her knock. But, you weren’t surprised.

“You’re leaving?” Her shock over the matter was more astonishing to you. After all that, that was her concern?

"Honestly Steph, are you really that surprised I want to leave the manor?" You ask in disbelief as you slowly sit up on the mattress as look at her. Your hoodie has done well at covering your bump, but as you adjusted it was more noticeable. Though there was no point in hiding it now.

"Yes. Alright, maybe not. I just thought we were friends now." She tries to find the right way to describe the thoughts running through her mind. She doesn’t want to lose you. She just got you.

"We are. But, do we really have to be housemates for that?"

"No, but I'm just worried about you and the baby." It’s ease to come up with the explanation. Gotham is dangerous. Living alone would be dangerous. You need help. You need her.

"We'll be fine."

"But--"

"We will be fine." You interrupt, more firmly. Giving her a glare. The emotions from your confrontation with Bruce still apparent. Words still desperately wanting to be said.

"Look, I'm gonna be honest here. As a family, y'all are… unreliable. As Gotham vigilantes, y'all have actually done more for me." You try to reign in your temper. Stephanie really had become your friend and support in this place. But, it was too late for you to want to stay.

"Asking me to stay and raise my son in an empty house… That's too much. Plus you heard Bruce. He wants be to just get rid of my son. Like-- Like he doesn't matter. Like he's a thing. He's mine. My baby. I don't care what you say, but I can't forgive that."

"He didn't mean that you know." Even as Stephanie said the words, she could tell you have no faith in them.

"It doesn't mater that he didn't mean that. What matters is that he thought it so strongly that he still said it out loud. And, considering how few words the man has said to my in my entire life, I'm taking that to heart." Your words echo with finality, like that was the end of the argument.

For Stephanie though, it wasn’t. She knew that it wasn’t the end. She knew they’d pull you back. And, they would. It was inevitable. She knew Bruce wouldn’t let you go and that if you were this vulnerable everyone would do whatever it took to keep you safe.

After sending Stephanie away with the excuse you needed a nap, you were more than ready to fall into a fitful sleep and drool into your pillow without care when you got a knock at the door.

You gave it a sharp look. Considering how pissed you were at everything, you would’ve have torn anyone apart for disturbing you.

It just so happened that the person disturbing you was some one you physically could tear apart because they were part fucking Kryptonian and appearing in your door way with a stupid fucking apologetic smile.

“So… We should probably—“ Conner starts in that stupid voice of his. Everything about him stupid to you right now. His hair. His eyes. The way he’s bicep is flexing as he scratches the back of his head in a self-conscious manner. That doesn’t make your mouth water. Not at all. Pregnancy did that. You swear.

“What makes you think I have anything to say to you?” You quickly snap at him. Not wanting to hear his excuses.

Already he’s bringing out those stupid puppy eyes that make you want to bend over— no. Bad thought.

“I—“

“Wipe that damn pitiful expression off your face. You aren’t gonna give me some bullshit excuses about you being drunk—“ You know he couldn’t get drunk. And, if he somehow miraculously did, he’d do it with his team or with people he trusted. Not show up at some Gotham party. You didn’t need to be Batman’s spawn to deduce that.

“You’re right. You’re right…” Conner sighs, rubbing his hands over his face as he steps towards you trying to hide the way he shakes.

It’s so subtle that you miss it. But, he’s so fucking satisfied right now. So ecstatic about you carrying his baby. The fact that it’s a boy. The fact that you literally shot Batman for his son.

The way you look so good lying there in front of him with that sleepy pissed off expression makes him want to fall to his knees and kiss his way up from your legs to your lips. Let him feel how soft you’ve become. Let him feel what he did to you.

“I just… I was there. I heard you complaining and I thought I’d check on you. And, you— You are a very clingy drunk.” He does attempt to explain, honestly. But, he’s too enthralled right now.

“And, let me guess, you just couldn’t resist.”

“No. I couldn’t.” Conner wouldn’t lie to you. Not if he could help it. “Even if I had the willpower of a Green Lantern or the discipline of a damn monk, I couldn’t have.” He murmurs with rough honesty as he inches towards you.

“You have no idea how deeply you make me feel. I know it was wrong. I gave myself a million excuses. That you weren’t that drunk. That we’re good enough friends that we wouldn’t regret it. That you might�� Feel the same about me…” God, the way your eyes widen and your breath hitches has him feeling lightheaded. Your heart speeds up and he can hear it.

“You’re talking like you’re in love with me.” Your tone is spiteful, even though the emotions in your chest are mixed.

“Yeah, I am. And?” Fuck, this is not how he ever wanted to confess. But, it’s not like he can contain it much longer. Not when he’s so close to having everything he wanted right in his grasp.

“I’m not scared of saying it. I’m scared of scaring you. Of being kept away from you. Of not being about to hear your heartbeat every day, letting me know you’re alive. That you’re somewhere in this word giving me a reason to exist.” He pleads, he grovels. He knows it was wrong.

He didn’t mean to take advantage of you. He’d thought you’d remember. Remember how he made love to you. How he had spent that entire night leaving gentle bites across your skin and holding you so close he nearly bruised your skin.

You can feel your eye’s prickling with tears again. Seeing his stupid face. Hearing his stupid voice.

“Just— Just get out!” You snap, unable to handle the mixture of feelings. The way your heart is aching, breaking, and repairing itself.

“Out! Out!” You yell, throwing one of your pillows at him.

“Okay. Okay. We’ll talk later. Just rest, please. You need it. For you and our baby, sweetheart.” He murmurs, clutching the pillow in his hand as he steps back and lets you have your space.

You grumble and glare as he leaves. Wondering if you offended him by wanting to be alone as you angrily curl in your bed.

You don’t see him standing outside your door. Shoving his face into the pillow you’d thrown at him and inhaling your scent. Noting the subtle ways it’s changed in his absence and how he can’t wait to bury his nose in the crook of your neck again.

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You had woken from your nap, feeling the frustrating urge to pee. A common feeling you were growing uncomfortably familiar with as you moved further along in your pregnancy. You gently rubbed your bump as you grumbled to the bathroom. Quickly finishing so you could go back to bed. Only, you heard another knock on the door.

Instantly your ire is spiked as you march towards it expecting to tear into Bruce or Conner, only to be taken aback when you see Dick. Standing there with a soft look. Not unlike Conner’s stupid look earlier.

"Hey…"

"What do you want, Dick?" You’re half tempted to shut the door in his face.

"Easy now." Now you’re seventy-five percent tempted to shut the door in his face.

"I really don't want a big brother lecture from you or anyone right now. So disappear or whatever. You just as bad as—"

"I'm not here to lecture you." He quickly interrupts, knowing that your next words would hurt. Which, he'd let you hurt him. Not because you were special or anything. He's let anyone in this family hurt him to make themselves feel better. But, you had never tried and he could tell you were aching. Making it a little easier for him to want to take every bit of damage from you.

"Well, that's nice." Was you dry response before you looked back at him with suspicion. "Did Bruce send you?"

"No." He answered, technically honest. Dick may have suggested the idea to Bruce on the premise that you needed a space to cool off before you did end up in some shady apartment on the other side of Gotham. And, Bruce may have approved of his plan. But, he was already going to go through with it regardless.

"I'm here to make you an offer."

"And, what sort of thing could you offer me? You don't exactly have a lot of experience with this sorta thing last I checked." Comes your sharp retort, expecting some fake concern or him trying to play peacemaker.

But, when you hear his actually offer, you’re stunned.

"Come stay at my apartment in Bludhaven."

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Taglist:

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A/N: I think the taglist is getting kinda long, I don't know if I should close it.

A/N: So, yeah. I've been letting this marinate for a while because I felt like words weren't enough to make Bruce pay. We needed action consistent with Reader's character. (I laughed for two days after the idea of shooting Bruce in the dick struck me.) Also, we really getting into the creepy bits now. Been mentally playing with my spidersona and the Batfam while trying to my energy levels back up post treatment. Plus, May is just a really busy month for me.

Ko-fI Link

[fireinmoonshot]

more than a friend should | robert reynolds x fem!reader

THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR MARVEL'S THUNDERBOLTS*.

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x Fem!Reader Summary: Bob didn't quite count on himself being starstruck by seeing you in a dress for the first time. You didn't count on yourself forgetting how to breathe when you saw Bob in a suit. But when you both have to get through a black tie event, the only way to do it is by getting through it together. Warnings: Mentions of general mental health struggles, anxiety, being drained from social activities and exhaustion. A very brief mention of alcohol and drugs. Reader wears a dress. Very brief swearing. Word Count: 4.3k A/N: I got a request for this fic last week and I totally fell in love with the idea. It took me a while to write just because I really wanted it to be perfect and I'm so happy with how it turned out. It's my longest fic for Bob so far! I did not proof read it after I finished my final draft. It's 11:30pm and I am so tired, so let's hope there are no mistakes in there 😂 Thank you so much for the response on all my Bob fics up to this point – I'm so happy that so many people are enjoying them. I hope you'll enjoy this one too! 💗

Bob knows that he’s screwed the second he sees you walk out into the penthouse from your room where you’d been getting ready. He doesn’t even notice Mel walking out behind you.

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters under his breath, totally unaware that he wasn’t as quiet as he’d thought he was being.

Walker, stood right beside him, glances at him. “You all right, Bobby?”

Bob tears his gaze away from you and looks at Walker, eyes a little glazed over. It doesn’t last long, though – his ability to not look at you. Not two seconds later he finds you again. Walker watches the whole thing, eyebrows furrowed and confusion written all over his face.

Was something going on between you and Bob? He was surely reading the situation wrong. If there was some kind of romance going on between the two of you, he was obviously going to know about it.

“What do we all think?” Mel’s voice breaks both Bob and Walker out of their thoughts. She’s standing beside you, motioning to the dress that you’re wearing. 

You smooth the dress down with your hands and instantly miss the pockets of your suit. As a New Avenger, wearing dresses is not something you’re used to. You spend most of your time in your suit or clothes that are comfortable when you’re not working. This is the entire opposite.

“Mel helped me pick it out,” you explain.

“It’s cute,” Ava says, standing up from where she’d been sitting down to wait for everyone to get ready. You’re glad to see that she’s wearing a dress as well – it makes the stress of it a little better, knowing you don’t have to go through it all alone.

You thank her at the same time that you catch Bob staring at you. Your breath catches in your throat as you notice the suit he’s wearing – a big change from the clothes he usually wears around the Watch Tower. Bob is nearly always wearing some kind of sweatpants. To see him in something like a suit, so perfectly tailored to fit him, is a sight to behold.

He still looks like Bob, though. His hair is a little messy and his tie is crooked, which makes you smile a little. They could put him in a suit, but he was clearly not very happy about it.

“You look different,” you start, beginning to walk over to Bob. “I can’t believe they actually got you out of sweatpants for the night.”

Bob laughs a little, then almost chokes on his own breath as he notices your hands reaching up towards him. They find his tie and straighten it. He lets out a shaky breath as you place your hands on his chest, running them over the lapels of his suit jacket, before dropping them.

Ever since Bob had met you, he’d been fascinated by you. He loved watching you kick ass as an Avenger, but he liked seeing the non-Avenger side of you more. His crush on you had grown rather quickly once he’d caught you reading one of his favourite books. Then, you’d offered to start doing buddy reads with him and he’d fallen even harder.

It often made him smile – the fact that the world knew you as one thing, but to Bob you were something entirely different. That to him, there were parts of you that no one else got to see. That once a month, you and him would sit up late into the night discussing the book you’d read and end up falling asleep on the bean bags on his bedroom floor. That every morning, he’d often see you coming out of your bedroom, opposite his, and think about how cute you looked with your bed hair. Those were the kind of memories he held closer than ever.

“You do, too,” he nods, hoping that you couldn’t feel the way his heart is beating out of his chest when you had your hands on him. “You look really nice. I like this colour.”

The smile that appears on your face only makes Bob’s heart race faster. 

“You look handsome, Bob,” you complimented. You open your mouth, about to say something else, when Valentina enters the room and shatters the moment entirely. She has a habit of that.

“Where’s Yelena?” Val asks, turning around to look at everyone. You can see the way her eyes snag on you and Bob and how close you’re standing together, but her gaze doesn’t linger too long.

“I’m here,” Yelena answers, clearly irritated, as she walks into the penthouse from the hallway. “And before you say anything, Valentina, I am not going to change into a dress.”

Yelena is, unsurprisingly, going against the dress code and wearing a pant suit. You very clearly remember reading instructions on the invitation – women were to wear dresses, men to wear suits. Of course Yelena had taken that as a suggestion rather than a request. 

For a moment, Valentina just looks at Yelena, venom in her eyes, but then she shakes her head and looks away from her, clearly sensing that starting an argument with one of her Avengers right before you all leave for a black tie event is not the best course of action.

“Well, at least the rest of you look appropriate,” she sighs. “When we arrive, instead of you all walking in as a group, I want you to enter as pairs. It’ll look better, make you seem more human. And it’ll drag out the entrance so that we get more attention. One of you will have to go solo since there’s an odd number of you but–”

“I’ll do it,” Yelena raises her hand, cutting Val off. “I’m going to wait in the car.” 

Before anyone else can say anything, Yelena heads straight to the elevator and gets in, heading down to the car, waiting to take you all to the venue. You stifle a laugh, amused at how quickly Yelena had snagged the ‘entering solo’ opportunity. It’s understandable, though. You make eye contact with Ava, who just shrugs. The last thing either of you want is to walk in on the arm of a man, being made to look like a piece of eye candy to every other man in the room, but without Ava fighting Val with you, it’s clearly not going to be worth your time.

Valentina ignores Yelena’s exit. “Okay, Bucky and Alexei, you two are a pair,” she begins, pointing at the two of them and ignoring the way that Bucky groans and Alexei cheers, exclaiming something about the co-leaders. “Ava and Walker, you two… and that leaves you,” she points towards you, “and Bob. You two look cozy. Don’t get too cozy, though.”

You look at Bob and give him your best reassuring smile. Out of all of the other Avengers, you’re grateful that Val paired you with Bob. The two of you are more comfortable with each other than you are with any of the others. At least being on his arm means you have someone that you feel especially safe and relaxed around right by your side. 

Bob feels the same way. He’d much rather walk in with you beside him than alone, and he has to admit that he’d worried Val was going to make him be the one to go solo before Yelena had volunteered. He’s infinitely relieved that he doesn’t have to be. 

With that, Val starts to walk towards the elevator. Mel hurries after her, leaving the rest of you all standing in the room until she beckons you over from the elevator, telling you all to hurry up.

You stay close to Bob’s side as you walk towards the elevator. “You ready for this?” You ask, nudging his arm with your elbow gently.

Bob grimaces. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to things like this.”

“Me neither,” you flash him a grin. “But at least we’ll be together. If you feel nervous, you can just hold on tight to me, all right? And once we’re inside, we can find a corner and start discussing what book we’re going to read next. Sound like a plan?” 

The two of you step inside the elevator and Bucky reaches forward to press the Ground Floor button.

“Sounds like a plan,” Bob nods, smiling. 

––––

Bob takes you up on your offer pretty quickly once you arrive at the event. Your arm is wrapped around his but he’s the one holding you close. Your body is pressed up against his side. He’s putting all of his energy into focusing on the feeling of your touch so that he doesn’t start to spin out with anxiety over the fact that he’s here.

It’s almost like you can hear his thoughts, because only seconds later he hears you ask him if he’s okay. His head snaps towards you, breath hitching in his throat as he sees you already looking at him.

You have the most beautiful eyes, he thinks.

“Bob?” You say his name again.

Just hearing his name from your lips snaps him out of his head. “I don’t think I should be here,” he says, glancing away from you to have a quick look around the room. There are so many people in the room, probably hundreds, and they’re all staring at him. No – not him, all of you. “I can’t even control my powers. I’m not a proper Avenger like all of you. I should’ve just stayed home and given Val some excuse.”

You frown and tighten your grip on his arm just a little. “That’s not true, Bob. You deserve to be here as much as any of us do. We wouldn’t even be here without you,” you explain. “And, for the record, I’m glad you’re here. Who would I have entered with if you weren’t here?”

“I’m sure you would’ve entered with someone.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted to enter with anyone but you.”

Bob looks back at you, not quite believing your words. “Really?”

“Really.” 

It’s a little more bearable once you’ve all entered the room and found a spot to stand, crowded around a small but very tall table in the corner of the room. There are still a lot of eyes on all of you, but thankfully the attention has died down a little since your entrance.

“Do you want me to let go?” You mutter, looking up at Bob. You’re still holding onto his arm, even though Ava and Walker had let go of each other the second the entrance was over. It was partially for you and partially for Bob that you hadn’t let go yet. 

You were just as nervous as he was. Events like this were not your idea of a good Saturday evening. If you’d had things your way, you’d be back at the Watch Tower, cooking something easy yet delicious for dinner and preparing to curl up on one of Bob’s bean bags all night to read with him.

“No,” Bob shakes his head. “Not yet. Please.”

You give him a small smile, reassuring him that you won’t let go, and let out a small breath of relief yourself. As long as you get to keep a hold of Bob, your anxiety will be able to be kept at a minimum. 

“So, what are we supposed to do now?” Ava asks, crossing her arms over her chest and looking around the room. “You know what? I’m going to find some alcohol. Anyone else?”

Alexei is quick to agree and Walker offers to go with them, simply not wanting Ava to have to deal with Alexei and alcohol on her own. It leaves you, Bob, Yelena and Bucky standing around the table.

“You’ve been to plenty of things like this, Bucky,” you start. “Have any advice for the rest of us who’ve never done anything like this before?”

Bucky sighs and shoves his hands in the pockets of his trousers. “Just hope and pray that the night goes quickly.”

“That’s great advice,” Yelena deadpans.

He’s about to say something in response when Valentina appears out of nowhere, gliding towards the four of you with a grin on her face that none of you like the look of.

“Oh, here we go,” Yelena murmurs under her breath.

“Where are the rest of you? Actually, never mind… okay, Yelena and Bob, come with me. I have some investors I want you to meet,” she says, beckoning the two of them forward.

You share a look with Bob that says everything that words can’t at the moment. Only minutes earlier Bob had been asking you to not let go of him, and here you were being practically forced to. Maybe Valentina deemed this to be too cozy – and she’d told you not to be earlier. Maybe this was her way of punishing you both for going against her word. Or maybe she just wanted to flaunt Bob off to the investors.

That seemed like the most likely option.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” You mutter, only loud enough for Bob to hear as you reluctantly let go of his arm and immediately cross your arms over your chest, not wanting to feel the cool air on them after having them wrapped up in Bob’s warmth. 

You watch as he and Yelena walk away, trying to push down the feeling in your stomach that has been growing more and more as you spend more time around Bob. It’s never going to end well for you, you know it. But still, the feeling lingers.

––––

Bob can’t remember the names of any of the people that Valentina have introduced him and Yelena to. He’s been standing here being talked at for ten minutes now and everything they’ve said has gone in one ear and out the other. He hasn’t even properly looked at their faces – all he can see is you over their shoulder, standing across the room with Bucky.

You look so beautiful in that dress. He should tell you later.

“While we’re here,” one of the investors speaks, “I want to introduce you to my daughter and a few of her friends she brought along tonight.” 

Bob is snapped out of his distraction as Yelena gently elbows him in the side. For the first time, he actually looks at the face of one of the men in front of him just as he’s beckoning his daughter forward. She’s followed by three other women, right behind her, all giggling and eyeing Bob up. 

“Ladies, this is Robert Reynolds. He’s also known as The Sentry,” Valentina introduces him to the girl and her friends. “He’s incredibly strong and you should see how fast he can move!”

Yelena barely restrains herself from putting her head into her hands. Instead, she lets out a small groan of “For fuck’s sake, Valentina” and shakes her head.

The girls all introduce themselves to Bob but their names don’t register with him like he knows that they should. He introduces himself in return, just to be kind, but just as Bob. Not The Sentry. He’s not that person and he hates the way that Valentina is using that side of him to gain attention from the investors. His hand  unknowingly clenches into a fist at his side.

“You’re much more handsome in person,” one of the girls says, stepping a little closer towards him. All Bob can think about is the fact that you had called him handsome tonight too.

“I can’t believe we’ve been living in the same city for so long now and we’ve never met before,” another adds. Bob knows why – he’s barely left the Watch Tower since he moved in. Why would he want to when the one thing he needs in New York is already there, right across the hall from him in your own bedroom?

He’s well aware that the girls are trying to flirt with him but he doesn’t even want to try and flirt back with them – not that he’s really any good at flirting. He’s had his fair share of flings over the years. He was pretty confident when he was high, but when he wasn’t, that confidence plummeted. He’s usually never turned down the attention of women before… but now that attention is the last thing he wants. 

Over their shoulders, he catches a glimpse of you again. Just seeing you makes his clenched fist loosen a little, especially when he sees you laughing at something that Bucky had said. He’s always loved the way you look when your laugh, the pure happiness that takes over your face. He stares at you for another few moments and then uses that time to continue to try and calm himself down. 

Despite the fact that you’re half way across the room, you’re helping him more than you know. 

––––

Watching Bob being flirted with all night was not a job for the weak – and you’d greatly over estimated your ability to deal with it.

You’d known what was happening almost instantly when you’d looked over and seen the group of girls giggling and getting a little too close to him. You hated that you felt relieved when you noticed that he wasn’t returning any of their advances.

You weren’t daft enough to think that you were the reason, but it made you feel good all the same. Just the thought that he mightn’t be interested in anyone at the moment was good enough for you – he’d been through so much in these last several months, you wouldn’t blame him if it were true.

Like Bucky had suggested, you spent most of the night hoping for the night to go quickly. There was only so much socialising one person could do, especially when they were out of their comfort zone, and you hit that point pretty quickly once Bucky had started introducing you to people he recognised from his time as a congressman. 

The worst part of the night was the fact that you had barely seen Bob at all. He’d spent most of the night being swept around the room by Val with Yelena, being introduced to everyone and barely even stopping for a break. The only contact you’d had with him since he’d been whisked away were brief moments of eye contact and shared smiled across the room.

It’s on the limo ride back to the Watch Tower that you finally get to talk to him again. Everyone else is either napping or not paying attention to the two of you, too exhausted from the night out, that you have no problem in shuffling over in your seat to get a little closer to him so no one overhears your conversation.

“So, our plan kinda backfired, huh?” You chuckle.

Bob looks over at you and laughs softly. “Yeah, it did.”

There had been no discussing what book you’d read next and absolutely no holding on tight to each other when you felt anxious. 

“Did you enjoy yourself, at least?” 

Bob scrunches up his nose a little and you can’t help but notice how adorable it makes him look. “I don’t remember much of it,” he admits. “I couldn’t think straight for a lot of it. Did you?”

It makes your heart hurt a little, hearing that he’d been so anxious that he couldn’t really remember any of the evening. It makes you even more mad at Valentina for subjecting him to all of that. It was going to result in him being utterly exhausted.

“I just missed you,” you admit – against your better judgement. It’s probably not the right thing to be saying to him, but it’s the truth. Your evening would have been better had he been in it.

“You did?” Bob raises his eyebrows, clearly a little surprised.

A thought enters his mind and he brushes it off instantly. Confess, his brain said. As if this was a good time to do it, in the middle of a limo packed full of all the other members of your team after a draining night out socialising – one that he’d likely be recovering from for at least a few days, judging by the exhaustion he could already feel creeping into his mind.

He shakes his head. This is not the time to tell you.

“I did,” you confirm. “I would’ve had a much better time discussing books in the corner with you rather than being introduced to all of the people Bucky knows in New York.”

Bob chuckles. “Okay, you make a fair point.”

By the time the limo stops at the Watch Tower, everyone in the car is either half asleep or dead on their feet. It’s late – almost 1 in the morning – and when you all reach the penthouse, everyone instantly disappears off to their bedrooms to recharge and sleep.

You and Bob walk side by side down the hallway before stopping outside of your bedroom doors, opposite each other. You rest your hand on the door handle of your room before turning to look at him. He looks exhausted, hair messier than it had been before you’d left, and his tie is crooked again. You smile as you notice it.

“Well, goodnight, Bob,” you murmur. “Sleep well, okay?”

Bob nods, but strangely he can’t find the words to say goodnight to you. It’s only when you turn around, putting your back to him, and start to turn your door handle that the words come – but not the ones he’d been meaning to say. 

“I like you,” Bob blurts out, and then immediately winces.

You turn around, your hand falling off the door handle and your eyes landing on him. Your heart starts to beat faster in your chest, though you refuse to get your hopes up. This isn’t a confession – just a tired man telling you he appreciates your friendship. “I like you too, Bob.” 

He sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. Just through your words he can tell that you didn’t understand him. “I don’t mean it that way. I mean that I like you more than a friend should.”

You’re pretty sure your heart stops beating. “You like me as more than a friend?” A best friend, your mind tries to finish it. Like a sister. Not in a romantic sense. Don’t get your hopes up.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off of you all night. I was introduced to so many people and I can’t even remember their names because I was too focused on looking at you over their shoulders.”

“You were?”

“I was.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. This cannot be happening right now. Bob cannot be confessing to you in the hallway at 1 o’clock on a Sunday morning after you’d had to spend the whole night watching him from afar and wishing he was right beside you. You have to be dreaming. 

“I… I like you more than a friend should, too. Really.” The words aren’t hard for you to say because they’re the truth. Partially because you think you might be imagining everything.

Bob stares at you, dumbfounded. You aren’t just repeating his words back to him for the sake of it. You’re not doing it out of pity or fear of hurting his feelings. All he needs to know that is the look on your face. Your eyes tell him everything.

You’re suddenly hit with the urge to yawn and that simple thing rips you straight out of your dreamlike state and back to the present. You’re not actually dreaming. This is actually happening… but this is not the time to be making grand gestures of love. Not when both you and Bob are exhausted from the night out socialising. You don’t want to risk crossing any lines tonight.

“Listen, it’s late. I don’t think we should make any decisions without resting. We’re both exhausted. And it’ll be good to sleep on it,” you suggest. “We can sleep knowing that we like each other and when we’ve recharged our social batteries, we can look back at it with a fresh head.”

Bob nods. You’re right – of course you’re right. He is exhausted, so much so that he’s not even sure how he’s still conscious right now. Your timing was so off, he thinks, his brain starting to twist his thoughts, taking advantage of his exhaustion. You should’ve waited.

Unknowingly, he starts to twist his hands together in front of him – something he always tends to do when his head gets loud.

You notice, stepping forward and placing your hands on top of his. He stills instantly, looking up and meeting your eyes. The warmth of your skin on his instantly relaxes him and his heart stops racing so fast. You give his hands a gentle squeeze.

“Goodnight, Bob,” you say, voice soft.

He continues looking at you as you turn around and walk back across the hall to your room. You’re almost completely inside, about to shut the door behind you, when he finds his voice again.

“You looked beautiful tonight,” he calls out, being careful not to be too loud since the others are still in their rooms close by. 

You pause and meet his eyes. “Thank you, Bob.” 

“Goodnight, he hums, giving you a small smile.

 It takes all of his strength to not collapse back against the door to his own bedroom once you shut your door. His hands are still a little shaky, his breaths a little short, but despite the exhaustion and adrenaline running through his system, he can’t help the smile that makes its way onto his face. I like you more than a friend should. The two of you had never really been just friends. Deep down, Bob knew that.

No, he thinks, pushing back agains the parts of his brain that were still telling him that his timing had been off, that he should’ve waited, that maybe he shouldn’t have told you at all. My timing was perfect. 

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!reader have a stressful week

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

based on this ask. warning: angst/arguing, but happy ending

The week had been a stressful one, with both y/n and Drew barely sleeping between hour long shoots and meetings, and its inevitable downfall began that morning when Drew forgot to pick up Charleston’s prescription.

“Drew, he needs those.” Y/n sighed as she closed the cabinet. She hadn’t meant to close it so harshly, hard enough to rattle the dishes in the cabinet. Drew sighed, running a hand through his hair as he ate a forkful of eggs. 

“Y/n, I know I just— I forgot.” Drew muttered. His under eyes were sunken, darkened from a lack of sleep and hectic week.

“You said you were going to get them yesterday after work—” Y/n continued.

“I know, I’m sorry. I got caught up on set, a’ight? I– I’ve had a busy week.” Drew said.

“I get that you’ve had a busy week, we both have… but he needs those. We can’t just forget—” Y/n put her hands on her hips.

“I get it.” Drew snapped, dropping his fork back onto the plate with a clatter, causing y/n to jump slightly. Y/n huffed, taking a sip of coffee before dumping the rest of it into the sink.

“Look, I get that you’ve had a busy week, but you don’t have to be snappy about it.” Y/n said. Drew sighed, rolling his eyes before standing up from the bar.

“I’m not being snappy, y/n, I’m tired and made a mistake and you won’t stop nagging me about it.” Drew said. Y/n scoffed, taking a step back from him as she crossed her arms across her chest.

“Nagging? Really, Drew?” Y/n chuckled incredulously. Drew shrugged dramatically, his eyes wide as he stood in front of her.

“I told you I know I fucked up but you won’t. Let. It. Go.” Drew groaned. “I’m busy and I’m tired and—” “And I’m not? I’m not busy? I’m not tired? You’re not the only one who is going through shit right now.” Y/n snapped.

“I never said I was!” Drew scoffed, throwing his hands up into the air. “You’re just making the situation a lot more difficult than it needs to be, ok?”

Y/n scoffed, turning away from Drew to head towards the door. Drew followed her, a few steps behind her as she slipped on a pair of sandals.

“Well, sorry for making your life so fuckin hard.” Y/n muttered as she grabbed her purse off the hook.

“That’s not what I said…” Drew sighed, grabbing y/n’s forearm lightly, stopping y/n from moving any further. She met his eyes, a frown on her face as she looked up at him, her under eyes puffy.

“No, I’m just… nagging, making it worse than it needs to be.” Y/n whispered. Drew shook his head, wrapping his arm around y/n’s shoulders before bringing her into his chest. Y/n sighed before wrapping an arm around his torso. Drew could hear a small sniffle as she burrowed her face into his shirt.

“I’m going to head in early. I need some time to… destress.” Y/n said against Drew’s chest. He let out a long exhale before pressing a kiss to the top of y/n’s head before stepping away.

“I’ll see you when I come in.” Drew murmured. The two of them stared at each other for a second, the weight of the stress hanging heavily between them. Y/n wiped a stray tear that had fallen before nodding.

“I’ll see you then.” Y/n whispered.

“Love you.” Drew said as y/n opened the door. 

“Love you too.” Y/n said, flashing a small smile before exiting out the door. As the door closed gently behind her, Drew let out a long sigh, running a hand down his face before turning to get ready for the day.

By the time it was time for their first scene together, y/n and Drew hadn’t had any chance to talk. Their lunch breaks hadn’t lined up, y/n had been shooting scenes with Caroline’s parents while Drew had been shooting scenes with Barry, neither of them seeing each other for even a moment in passing.

As their eyes met, the two of them gave out small smiles. Drew’s eyes lingered on her, scanning over the stringy purple bikini she wore and the gauzy white coverup that draped her frame beautifully. He wanted to reach out and brush her hair back or kiss her, but—

“Ok, can we get Caroline on the lounger and Rafe staring on the deck.” One of the directors directed before Drew could move an inch. The two of them broke eye contact, turning to make their way to their marks in order for the scene to begin. Y/n stretched out onto the lounger, grabbing the prop drink setting on the side table. Her eyes flicked up to watch Drew as he walked away, the tanned, freckled skin of his bare back practically glowing underneath the sun. He wore a pair of navy swim trunks which beautifully complimented his golden chain and Cameron family ring.

“Alright, everyone on their marks.” The director shouted, the set falling quiet. “And action!”

Drew (now Rafe) crossed the patio, his eyes trained on y/n (now Caroline) as she gazed out across the pool, sunglasses perched low atop his nose. As he got closer, y/n’s eyes lifted to look up at him.

“Hey, baby.” Drew murmured as he leaned down, pressing a long kiss to y/n’s lips and resting a hand on the curve of her hip. Once he pulled away he littered kisses along her jaw, slowly moving to kiss along the column of her throat. Y/n squealed, squirming out of his grasp as she looked up at him with a flustered smile.

“What is your deal?” Y/n chuckled as Drew pulled away, moving to sit at the end of the lounge. He looked away from her, moving to gently brush his hand along her leg.

“I… just wanted to talk to you.” Drew murmured, avoiding her gaze as he continued to move his hand along her leg. Noticing his avoidance, y/n sat up, bringing her legs closer to her and forcing him to look up. She quirked her eyebrow, waiting for him to speak.

“My dad, uh, called me.” Drew said quietly.

“Your dad?” Y/n repeated.

“Yeah.” Drew sighed, running a hand along his buzzcut. “He told me that he wants to sell Tanneyhill and… donate the cross.”

Y/n’s eyes widened slightly, her back straightening as she looked at Drew. Y/n nibbled at her bottom lip, her mind deep in thought before she spoke.

“That…” Y/n sighed. “That’s not a bad idea, Rafe. I– It’s the least you guys could do, I mean—”

“‘The least we could do’?” Drew scoffed, his brow furrowing. “Baby, donating that cross isn’t gonna do anything. It’s not gonna undo shit o- or bring people back, you know that.

“Yeah but, Rafe, it will help to rectify—” Y/n stammered, her heart hammering in her chest.

“‘Rectify’? How is this going to rectify anything?” Rafe said. “Peterkin’s still dead. My dad’s still gone. Sarah’s still a Pogue. I still… did all that shit. Donating a piece of gold that’s going to erase all of that… but it will give us the life we’ve always wanted.”

Drew reached forward, grasping y/n’s hand firmly in his own. Y/n met his eyes, noticing the slight… pain in his eyes that wasn’t just Rafe in that moment. Y/n bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling, the intensity reaching further than just that of the scene.

“I want to give you the life you’ve always deserved.” Drew said lowly.

“I- It’s—” Y/n began, but suddenly her voice cut off as she let out a sob, the pressure that had been simmering since that morning (and perhaps even longer) finally reaching a boiling point.

“Stop, cut!” Drew shouted as y/n collapsed into him. He held her tightly against his chest, practically feeling his heart break as she cried against him. Taking the memo, the crew quickly cleared away to give the two a moment.

“I’m sorry, Drew.” Y/n sniffled.

“No, no, I’m sorry.” Drew said as y/n peered up at him.

“No, I’ve just been so stressed and I was putting it on you and—” y/n rambled.

“No, I’ve been putting it on you.” Drew sighed, the two of them looking at each other for a second before they both let out hearty chuckles. Drew reached down to brush underneath y/n’s under eye.

“I’m sorry.” Y/n whispered, causing Drew to crack a smile.

“I’m sorry.” Drew whispered back, smoothing a hand down y/n’s arm as she sat up in the lounger.

“Thank you.” Y/n murmured.

“For what?” Drew chuckled, brushing a piece of y/n’s hair back.

“For being here. Even when things are hard.” Y/n said.

“Thank you.” Drew said breathily.

“For what?” Y/n’s brow furrowed.

“For being here. And being you.” Drew grinned, causing y/n to let out an airy giggle.

The two of them separated, sparing eachother one last glance before they prepared again for the scene, an understanding between them that even when things get difficult, they could count on eachother.

[meatballlady]

I was referring to s1. Crowley is structured as the protagonist there.

I agree that in s2, Aziraphale is structured as the protagonist, but, importantly, it's a season where (while a lot happens) the plot is not forwarded at all. It's a filler episode. Aziraphale is the protagonist of the filler episode.

They're still not treated as equals in s2 either. In all the minisodes, Crowley is right all along and Aziraphale learns a lesson. In present times, Aziraphale's actions are generally not portrayed seriously (helping Gabriel is silly, investigating in Edinburgh while being silly about it, having a frivolous party as a romantic gesture in the middle of a super stressful time). I'm not saying I agree with any of the above, I'm saying that's how it's portrayed and how people see it.

"Like how is Aziraphale then always this passive character in art that does nothing but protests and holds on to his past or whatever and then gets persuaded to let go of his prior beliefs by Crowley who already knows everything and sorted all his problems and just needs a pretty love interest to win for himself when there's nothing like that in the show."

Idk, I feel like that's the entire show for me. Crowley is the one who pushes for the arrangement. Crowley is the one who pushes to stop Armageddon. Crowley is the one to label it "our side" when it's over. Aziraphale defends heaven. Aziraphale pushes against working together. Crowley is always putting pressure on Aziraphale and waiting until Aziraphale takes the next step. In s2... Crowley is the one explaining poverty to Aziraphale. Crowley is the one convincing Aziraphale to try food. Crowley is humoring Aziraphale's magic act, even though he derides him for it throughout both seasons. Crowley is humoring Aziraphale with helping Jim, not actually agreeing with him. Crowley is the one that directs the miracle to hide Gabriel. Crowley is the one who saves the humans from the party. Crowley solves the riddle about Gabriel. Aziraphale is stubborn about helping Gabriel despite the risks. Aziraphale investigates the Gabriel situation in a silly way and ultimately doesn't solve it. Aziraphale ignores the risks of the demon army outside his door because he's focusing on the ball.

So yes, even though I don't like it and don't agree with it, Crowley is *written in the show* to be the relatable one that knows everything and wins Aziraphale over, while Aziraphale is *written in the show* to be naive, stuck in his own beliefs, and needing Crowley's help to catch up. Crowley always gets his way and Aziraphale is always a step behind.

(also a third disclaimer that I don't see it that way. I think it's a surface level take. However, I do think it's portrayed that way in the show. These things are highlighted in the show where they were absent in the book. I really hope s3 will have a big reveal that flips the actions of s2 on its head, i.e. the original point of this post, but taken at face value, s2 is just a big hullabaloo)

It really bothers me that Aziraphale is described as the one who refuses the relationship, who is held back by his attachment to Heaven or some weird sort of propriety or morality; who is the obstacle and the prize in Crowley's life. If only he got over himself and his angel-ness and admitted how he feels, they would be happy.

It changes the story. I get that changing the story and the characters to suit whatever art we make and consume is the part and parcel of fandoms...BUT, it creeps into all the metas and because it never changes (the roles are never reversed) it changes how people in general view Aziraphale and his character and his actions and they obscure how Aziraphale really is, what he fights for, how incredibly strong and resolute and protective of Crowley and their little world, their side, he is. It changes Crowley too. Makes him into nothing much more but the rebel with golden heart, after the girl of his dreams. Rebel though, like many others in romantic films, that rebels only in words. Doing nothing much of substance. There's more to Crowley than that. He's cleverer than thinking that Aziraphale is too goody-two-shoes to love him back and he needs to patiently wait till his dream girl wakes up, understands him and decides to run away with him.

Crowley wants change too. He hates the current world they are in. He even came up with the Arrangement that he wouldn't have to do all bad deeds himself but that they could share. Yes, he's drawn to creating chaos but he craves peace too. He became demon yes, but he never gave into those base instincts we all fight sometimes. He's still good. He's still righteous. He still thinks it's unfair what happened but he has no real faith in change anymore. He does however, have faith in Aziraphale. He always comes through for him.

[tibbythetiger]

Finally finished my last finals, and I’m able to share my #sentryagent thoughts and head cannons!! Some of these are just random things I have thought of over the course of the past few weeks!!

One of my biggest things, is I LOVE the idea of John being the team “chef”, I think since taking the serum he really needs to up his calorie intake and he was used to cooking when growing up and while in the service so he’s happy to do it with all this space and money at his disposal. Once he discovers what Bob’s favorite foods are, he makes them pretty consistently. He’s also a kitchen HOG. He does not like to share his kitchen space with other people and it really frustrates him to be interrupted. He appreciates the others want to help, but DEAR GOD he just wants them to leave him alone. Well, besides, Bob. Bob however, decided he was going to be slowly inching his way into John’s orbit and by extension the kitchen. So, he starts by just saying hi to John in passing while he’s cooking, then brief little conversations. Eventually he starts to sit in the farthest corner in the kitchen, offering small commentary. Eventually he’s allowed to move to the other side, and before either he or John knows it, he’s perched on the counter in the corner and offered taste-tests and special snacks as John prepares meals. The others are jealous, and claim he’s playing favorites and then John points out the Bob is likely everyone’s favorite besides Alexi whose favorite is Yelena. They all agree and Bob flushes but continues to perch himself in the kitchen. Once they start dating, he gets kisses as John is cooking, along with his snacks and taste-tests.

I think another thing is that Bob is constantly running too cold. No one is really sure why, but he’s constantly freezing. John however, runs ungodly warm. It starts as a good excuse for them to sit close during movie nights, Bob simply stating that John is warm and it’s such a hassle to get all these blankets from his room. John allows it, but then thinking he’s helping, goes and buys Bob extra blankets just for the living room so he doesn’t have to drag his blankets back and forth. Bob is both touched, and mildly annoyed. He thanks John for the blankets and uses them religiously for a week, however, he does miss being pressed up against John during those nights on the couch and is debating how he can feasibly make the blankets disappear from John’s view so they can cuddle together again. Until one night, John plops down beside him, throw his arm around his shoulder and says “You’re so cold, you don’t mind right? Finally feel like I’m a normal temperature around you,” and well, Bob is as pleased as punch at that.

Before they start dating, and are just starting to get close, they have the whole “I’m sorry I called you Bobby, I wont’ do it anymore” talk, to which Bob lets John know, that while he appreciates that, he does enjoy John calling him that. John jokes that Bobby should have a special nickname for him then, and is a little starstruck when Bobby walks into the kitchen the next morning, perches himself in his little corner on the counter and says “Morning Johnny,” sleepily. This is one of the first moments John really wants to kiss Bob. But once they start dating, John is constantly calling Bob some sort of pet name, sometimes he just goes simple like “Baby” or “sweetheart”, he still uses Bobby and he’ll even jokingly call Bob his cheerleader every once in a while as well. Bob however, uses Johnny the most, since it’s something even Olivia didn’t really call John. He also will use Baby occasionally.

Whenever there is a high stress situation, John will physically put himself in front of Bob. Whether the heightened emotion is directed at Bob or not, he physically will act as barrier between whatever is occurring and Bob. One time, Yelena and Bob were joking and when John walked in he didn’t realize and moved between them. Yelena was annoyed, but conceded when Bob had put his hand on John’s shoulder assuring him that everything was fine. Yelena softened a little bit towards John after that, and felt more comfortable when she would leave Bob for longer missions.

I have plenty more!! But I’m just sharing these for now and will hopefully share out some more over the rest of the week. I’m seeing Thunderbolts* again on Saturday and I’m positive I will have more thoughts after I get to watch it again!

[dixonsstinkysock]

Our Words.

summary - Sometimes our words can mean more than our actions.

pairing - daryl dixon x reader

warnings - Mentions of death/the dead…

notes - @dixondisease ‘s amazing idea!!! LINK HERE. Check it out!! 💚 (also go check out @mee30p ‘s version it’s amazinggggg!!! LINK HERE. )

main masterlist | daryl dixon masterlist

Tensions were high and the hundreds of walkers about to tear down your safehouse wasn’t helping either. Daryl was trying to find the quickest way out of the gas station while you looked for any supplies you could take with you. You thought you and Daryl were on good terms when you left and you were. Everything that could go wrong today did and it’s all getting to him. He never wanted to put you in danger like this, he knew that this trip was going to be risky and he didn’t even want you to come in the first place.

As usual, you insisted, wanting to get out of the walls of your home for the longest now. Don’t get me wrong, you loved your community and everyone in it but it can get suffocating sometimes. Especially, when your husband is always out on runs getting supplies for you all while you stay back taking care of things at home.

In all honesty, the real reason you wanted to come on this run was because you missed Daryl. Having been attached to the hip since the Quarry, it was unusual to be apart for so long. So he let you come, he let you come with and now you are both trapped in this rickety gas station with about a hundred walkers hunting their next meal. You turn at the sound of your husband grunting, stopping your search for anything useful. Daryl is trying to tear off the wood that was used to repair the station roof. It looked brand new, but it was a shitty repair job so you were pretty sure Daryl would be able to take that down quickly.

“You need any help?” you questioned, carelessly throwing down the expired candy and standing. Daryl pauses for a moment, taking a break and looking back at you.

“ Nah…I got it.”

The pounding from outside was getting quieter, Some of the walking dead getting disinterested and going after something else. Eventually, you thought, they would go away all together. But, would the building go first? Daryl isn’t the only one who has been stressed recently. You’ve kinda been going off the walls, taking care of almost everything around your community and the community’s children was exhausting. You sort of became the community’s babysitter? Anyone who needed to go on a run or go to any type of job came to you when they needed their kids to be watched.

Back to my point, you were stressed, Daryl was stressed, and your situation wasn’t helping so you can see where this is gonna go. “There’s nothing of use here…you make any progress?”

He scoffs “What does it look like, (Y/N)?” He pauses again before going back to what he was doing. You decide he’s never going to ask for help so you take it upon yourself to help anyway, it was better than standing around after all. You grab the 2-step stool from behind the counter, placing it next to Daryl’s stool and stepping up. “Just let me know what you need me to do and I’ll do it–”

“I said I didn’t need help!” He finally gets one board loose, 4 more to go.

“Obviously you do, you’ve been working on that same board for 30 minutes.” The windows were starting to crack, were there more walkers outside?

“Alrigh’ you wanna help?” You nod, eager to get out of this place “Then get outta my way.” He knocks another board loose, one coming down with the other. 2 more to go.

“Fine, but if I die here because you’re too stubborn to accept help I’m gonna be pissed.”

You step down from the stool, the banging against the now weak walls getting louder and more aggressive. It Seems like they doubled? You slowly walk around the empty shelves.

“...Daryl?” You were right.

“Daryl!” They did double, triple even.

“What?!” It was a herd.

The windows shatter as Daryl knocks the rest of the boards down. Your arms cover your face as glass is sprayed everywhere, you turn, running back to where Daryl was. He lifts you up, pushing you through the small hole first. You hold your hand out to him to pull him up. The dead have taken over now, one of them grabs his ankle, its rotting jaw opening to feed. You can’t find your weapon so you use the next best thing, your bag. It was perfect, your bag was heavy enough to knock down the walker and pull Daryl out of there. Now you two just need to take the stuff you found on the run and head home…

“Uh…Baby?’

“What?” Daryl is leaned up against the attic wall, who knew gas stations had attics?

“You have everything we scavenged right?”

“No. You did. Why?”

Even though the groans and growls of the dead were loud and unmistakable it felt quiet as you realised what you just did. A rookie mistake, but it honestly wasn’t your fault, why did you have everything in the first place? Well you don’t have anything anymore, the walkers do.

“I uh…I don’t have it anymore.”

—------------------

Daryl’s been quiet since the incident at the gas station, you saved his life–leg and in turn lost all the supplies you had acquired during the 2-day run. You two set up a camp far enough to be out of the direction of the herd but close enough to make an easy trip back to the station to get your supplies. Now sitting around the small fire, you wonder whether or not it’s a good idea to start a conversation right now.

“Daryl…I’m sorry–”

“Yeah, you should be” He scoffs “Do you even realise what you just cost us?”

You weren’t taken aback by his outburst as much as you were his words. “What..What I cost us? I saved your life!”

“I was fine, it didn’t even have that good of a grip on me, yet you decided it’d be a good idea to just give it all of our supplies!” Daryl’s voice raises a bit higher than yours, his hands that were sharpening his knife stills. Now it’s your turn to scoff, “Daryl, I said I was sorry. I’d rather have you than have a few bottles of medicine and a stale candy bar.”

“Really? Tell your brother that.”

“What?” Your voice shakes, attempting to hold back the tears that want to spill. The last time you saw your brother, you two were going through a pharmacy. All you had found was ibuprofen and a couple of melted chocolate bars. It was better than nothing and it was obvious someone had been through there already. You two got cornered, coincidentally by the people who ransacked that pharmacy. They pointed guns at you and beat you up. Soon enough the dead broke in, tearing up your assaulter's and your brother. His last words were to keep going, to find somewhere safe. All you had left of him was his bag, a bottle of ibuprofen and two chocolate bars.

Daryl knew that. He knew that because he met you right after. Him and his group had headed back to Atlanta to find his brother who was handcuffed to a roof? It was the worst and also the best day of your life. You lost your family but found a new one, and all that leads to now. You get lost in your thoughts, thinking about your brother, what you could’ve done to save his life and all that you didn’t do.

Eventually, you can’t stop the tears from falling, the sobs no longer stuck in your throat. You never really came to terms with what happened to your brother and you don’t think you ever will. Daryl drops his knife and heads over to you, hugging you tightly.

“Hey, Don’t cry, I’m sorry…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

You push him away, turning away from him and hugging yourself, your tears falling freely now. He hugs you from behind, kissing your head and apologizing over and over again. “Don’t cry, please, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry…”

Daryl pulls away from you, for a moment you think he’s finally going to leave you alone but instead he turns you to face him. His hands rest on your cheeks, thumbs brushing away your tears. “(Y/N)...Look at me, please.” You do, eyes red from the uncontrollable crying.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t right, I didn’t mean it.”

“You still said it…” You sniffle, voice weak and small, almost like you’re afraid to speak up around him now. That is the last thing he wants, he loves your voice, he loves that you have so many opinions, so many interests. He never wanted you to feel like this. To feel like you didn’t have a say in anything, that you didn’t have a voice. As he brings you into another hug, he brushes his hands over your hair, you mentioned it comforted you, and he promised. He promised you and himself that something like this would never happen again.

words: 1515

Ty for reading Lovelies!!

C U L8TER! 💚

[loveriotss]

[ 🥐 ] LOVE ALLIANCE : ALLIANCE D'AMOUR ⸻ chapter 02 : PSYCH WARD | k.bakugo x gn! reader smau series

𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎.

no doubt. he had spent years putting in the effort to become one. the countless training, spars, exams and heck even a whole war had contributed into molding him into the man he is today. his friends too played a significant part in his life. taking care of him, spending time together, helping him in and out of hero duties and he might not admit it out loud, but he really appreciated them. he may not be the perfect hero but at least he was a good one?

so who the fuck thought it was funny to mess up his new car.

i mean, it wasn't that much of a problem, he had his beloved first car after all. that classy black porsche, according to denki kaminari.

he got a slipper to his face.

"what the hell man.. that hurt.." mumbled a tomato cheek denki, rubbing his face while clenching the slipper that was thrown at him, deciding whether he should throw it back or play it safe and not see the pearly white gates tonight.

katsuki paid no mind to his grumbles as he scrolled through his phone, scowling at the countless tweets that kept on erupting like a volcano. there were many different opinions on the whole situation but all in all, it made him seem like he was a lousy womanizer who can't keep it in his pants and is now facing the consequences.

how ridiculous. in all the years that katsuki has been a pro hero, not even once had he got together with anyone. sure there were a few dates here and there but that was purely out of either his mother's insistence or his friends setting him up on a surprise blind date. katsuki is not that rude so he would stay exactly 30 minutes, which he deemed a respectable time as to not offend his date, and then he'd be off.

but everyday, he'd find himself get roped into a dumb scandal. all baseless lies or twisted truths to feed the bored civilians at home.

"listen man, don’t worry! cheer up, i'm sure we can get your car cleaned up somewhere!" denki chirped in, interrupting katsuki's train of thought. he snatched katsuki's phone away and before he could get yelled at, placed a can of soda in his empty hand. 

the blonde sat next to him, swirling his own concoction around in his cup, before speaking. “look kats, don’t stress yourself over these rumors. i can already see your gray hairs growing,” he joked before continuing, “people will talk and lie but you just keep your head up, yeah? you’re an awesome hero who’s appreciated so don’t let these scandals torture your mind” denki said, nudging katsuki with his shoulders to which the red-eyed man hummed.

“..fuck, i know it’s just that, no matter how hard i try these people always find a way to ruin my name” katsuki scoffed, running his hand through his blonde tufts of hair. “just wish i could catch a fucking break” he mumbled before drinking down his soda.

“a break..” denki repeated, furrowing his eyebrows as he thought deeply, the gears in his head turning. “then.. why don’t we take one? take a break, i mean. honestly i can’t remember the last time i’ve gotten a well deserved break that was longer than a weekend” denki chirped, turning his body towards katsuki as his eyes glittered. “think about it, kats, a week, no, month long break? heroes are humans too, we need rest! you, me and the whole gang! let’s go on a trip!” he exclaimed excitedly, waiting for katsuki’s input.

a break. that sounded tempting to the man who’d recoil at the thought of a break before. maybe dunce face was onto something. the long shifts, the sudden call-ins to work, the guilt, the stress, the physical and mental strength started to take a toll on him. well he wasn’t growing any younger, he had to admit that his body was not as energetic as it was when he was a teenager.

katsuki hummed, staring at denki for a moment before speaking. “i’m in” he said, snorting as he saw denki’s stupidly happy expression. “HELL YEAH MAN!” he whooped, springing up from the couch, “trust me, this is going to be the most fun thing ever! everyone together.. oh my god we should totally invite shoto and the others too! the more the merrier! and we need to start planning a destination and itinerary and —” denki chattered on, pacing around the living room as he spilled his ideas.

katsuki chuckled, looking down at the empty can. yeah.. he was looking forward to the trip.

ᯓ★» LOVE ALLIANCE ! < previous | masterlist | next >

ᯓ★» ALLIANCE SECRETS ! ୨ৎ : katsuki and denki hangout with eachother a lot. their favorite past time is just sitting in silence and having a nice drink together. ୨ৎ : denki had a ponyboy phase. ୨ৎ : sero is single and wants a cookie so effing bad but he's shit at flirting. ୨ৎ : yes most of the heroes have secret wattpad/ao3 accounts to read fanfics.

ᯓ★» AUTHOR'S NOTE :: i had been cooking this since feb but kept procrastinating so ummm. ALSO TIMESTAMPS DON'T MATTER, ignore the dates.

ᯓ★» TAGLIST :: @chsvok @ch3rryjampi3 @emmab3mma @pikachuzhc @cholios @zaiban2989 @hearts4heidi @ikissfade @themultifandomgirl @god-hangry-otter @sunlix143 @rikislove @fackeraccount @chaoslibra @4rmins @harryzcherry @luvvvamy @pinxeajin @liluvtojineteyam @nanaanation

©loveriotss — all rights reserved to me. don’t try to copy/steal my work. do not use any of my ideas/translate my work without my permission.

[bloodied-blossom]

Heyhey<3

I just found your page and I like ur writing a lot, and I was wondering if you could write smth short about just like smoking together w Ronin. Like dunno; late at night, Ro and the reader r just sitting outside somewhere n chatting quietly while smoking yk ^^

I hope you can do smth with my small idea, and have a nice day!!

You can count on him, late at night, with habits and all.

1.5k Words; Ronin x Reader (REQUEST!)

Killer Chat! Fanfic

CONTENT WARNING! Both you and Ronin smoke, just in case thats not something you're comfortable with reading! + RONIN'S LAST NAME spoilers

You had gone outside for a smoke break, wanting to clear your mind from all the stress of your growing popularity. While walking through the city, reminiscing, you find someone falling in time with your steps.

{THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REQUEST! ENJOY!}

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Being a writer was an exhausting job. Racking your brain for ideas, pushing yourself to get up and put those ideas to words, and then keeping the motivation to continue. The want and the passion for your writing. To make it come alive in a way that captures the focus—and more importantly the hearts—of your readers.

And you were given the perfect motivation one day months before. You had gotten mixed up in an online chatting room full of serial killers. Throughout that time, you had grown close with a particularly infamous serial killer. The Butcher, or better known to you, Ronin Beaufort. He had been your shoulder devil the entire time, egging you on and on. Driving you insane.

You thought he’d kill you, knowing you a writer, not a killer, should’ve made you his number one target. However, you two ended up together. He gave you the motivation to write your novels, new material creating itself every single day being in that server. It was a concerning situation you had gotten yourself into, and you weren’t sure how long it would last… but you couldn’t be happier than you are now.

Over time, you got to see a sweeter, nearly softer side of him. He was loving and cared for you like no other. Even if he had… special… ways of showing it. On the server, you made so many friends. You could put aside the fact they were serial killers because you had seen their humanity. Their own struggles. You couldn’t help but feel sympathetic, couldn’t help but feel for them.

Especially Ronin. He wasn’t everything he made himself to be, no. He was more. He was deeper than you realized and it only made you fall for him more. The thoughts he shared with you gave you insight to how his head ticked... the small, quiet moments were worth it to you.

…God you really were in love with a killer. Look at you, sitting here and gushing over him to yourself at your desk. You smiled at the thought. Despite everything, fate really liked fucking with ya in weird ways.

Speaking of which, a thought crossed your mind... Your smile fading too soon. Despite being a successful writer, everything you ever dreamed of, the popularity was too much for you. So many eyes on you, people who loved your work… and people who didn’t. The stress you felt, knowing you needed to continue writing or risk losing relevance. It made your chest hurt. You took a deep breath, standing from your desk and rubbing your temples.

You needed a smoke break.

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Pack in hand, your lighter in your pocket, you decided to take a walk around the city to get your mind off things. You couldn’t hotbox your apartment after all. That risked smell complaints too… so you settled for a scenic walk while smoking away your stress.

You were aware your habit wasn’t exactly healthy for you, but it did wonders for your mind. And you couldn't bother him with this. You pressed a cigarette between your lips, shoving the pack back into your bag before taking out your lighter.

Lighting it, you waited a minute before inhaling the smoke. You let it sit in your mouth before giving a shaky exhale, watching the smoke rise.

The night was darker than usual, it was much colder. Winter was right around the corner and the shirt and pants you stepped outside in were not doing you any good with the temperature. You took another puff, shoving your free hand into your pocket. It was quiet out, not many cars passed you by. No one was really walking around either. It was late, after all.

So it was easy for you to pick up the pair of steps following you, getting closer before falling in line beside you. You looked at the person’s shoes, confused as to why they matched your pace… when you saw it. The spikes, the velvet pants… You stilled, the person stopping just short of where you stood. And you finally looked up.

“Don’tcha know it’s dangerous to walk alone at night, Darlin’?”

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His voice rang out, the same smirk on his face… the one you could never get tired of. You moved the cigarette from your mouth, in between your pointer and middle finger. You shot him back a small smile. “Ronin.. How did you know I was out tonight?”

You spoke softly, your voice a little hoarse from the smoke. He moved closer to you, setting his jacket around you. He noticed your body shivering... A small smile formed on your face at the gesture. You fell back into your pace, moving closer to Ronin as you two walked.

“I didn’t~ Really. But I figured that since you weren’t answerin’ my texts, you were outside. Didn’t take long to spot you. I'd recognize my fallen angel from a mile away.” He took hold of your wrist, something he often did. You sighed, taking another puff. You inhaled the smoke this time, trying to figure out what to say. You knew you couldn’t lie, he could read you like a book.

“I… wasn’t feeling well. Sorry I didn’t answer, Ro. I just needed a break.”

You were vague. You couldn't bring yourself to talk about it further. You didn’t want to trouble Ronin with something that should be trivial, that shouldn’t matter so much. You got what you wanted, so what right do you have to complain about it.

Ronin stared down at your face, taking in your hesitance, your vague words. He had a sense as to why you’ve been offline more often, and tonight proved his suspicion. He softly gripped your chin, turning you to look at him as he took the cigarette from between your lips. “ You’re really bad at hidin’ things.” he said with a sigh, taking a puff from YOUR CIGARETTE.

You scoffed and let him have it, taking out a new one. “Nothing gets past you, does it… I know you have something to say so say it already, Beaufort.”

He smiled at your words, moving unsettlingly close before lighting your new cigarette with his. He took a puff, moving it from his lips. Your chin still in his hand, he softly kissed your cheek before whispering into your ear.

“The fame gettin’ too much for you? This is your solution for stress relief?”

You flushed at the kiss, his breath fanning against your face as he moved his head directly back in front of you. “And it gets better. Our little writer thought it was a good idea to just hide those feelings. With all their friends worried. Hell, they couldn’t even tell their boyfriend.” His voice was teasing as always, but you could tell he was concerned. He showed it in weird ways, sure, but you didn’t miss the slight hesitance in his words.

You inhaled, smoke filling your mouth as you chose your words carefully. Exhaling the smoke as you spoke, “Ro… I didn’t mean to make you guys worry I just… It’s so stupid to bother you over. I wanted this. I wanted to get this popular and I wanted people to know me. Who I am… my writing. I-It just-”

Before you could finish, he stepped forward and kissed you. His free hand moved to the back of your neck before he pulled back. You stared at him, stunned. You never did get used to his sudden affections. “Just because you wanted this doesn’t mean you can’t feel overwhelmed. Much less hide the fact you’ve been feeling bad.”

You relaxed at his words, leaning back into his hand.

“But-”

“But nothing. Now come on, put that shit out. I’m takin’ you home.

He dropped the cigarette, stomping it out… and you followed suit. He gave you a moment before moving his hand down from your wrist to your hand. His touch was gentle.. You loved it. You both started back towards your apartment, catching up on small things. You found it easier to relax and open up now. Forgetting all your worries and stress when you were with him. And he knew that. That’s why he came to find you.

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Ronin hadn’t left your side that night. Making himself right at home in YOUR apartment. His hand still intertwined with yours as you walked to your room, sitting down on your bed. Ronin was the one to clear your pockets and set your cigarette pack aside.

“Now, you feelin’ better? Got it out of your system?” He set his hands besides your hips, right on the bed, leaning close to you. His face was close to yours once more.

You smiled, pressing your forehead against his. “Yeah… no thanks to you… and probably the uh… you know.” You stared directly into his eyes as you spoke, eyes lighting up as he chuckled at you. “Yeah, I get it darlin’. Now, quit stressing. And stop leaving me and our friends out of the loop…” he spoke softly. “We care about you… I care about you…” he muttered, averting his eyes. It made your heart ache in the same way being around him made your chest tight. “Yeah… I'll.. I’ll try…”

It was your turn to try and catch him off guard, cupping his face and kissing him. Though, he didn’t look surprised at all. He simply kissed back, a huge smile on his face.

“You’re my darlin’ writer. You know that? Can’t have you all stressed like this… your work will suffer.”

“Oh shut up…”

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Hi! Sorry this took me a bit to get to but thank you for the request! I really hope you enjoy it! I don't personally smoke and tried to write it the best I could! I figured this could be more strict to canon, MC trying to smoke away the pressure of being a new popular writer.

Writing Ronin will never not be fun to me, he’s personally my favorite love interest!

Honorary @ this fic would be @valeriele3 because the tags they made on the reports of my work were funny to me! Thank you for reading, leaflet <3.

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[sunder-soul]

hiii cud u pl do a headcanon/oneshot where its a muggleborn reader who smhow ends up befriending the tom riddle who always seems to soft only to her, including tolerating her sassy attitude and its a study session together and they're bantering or summin? i think it wud be nice. thank you!

A/N: Girl I gotchu

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.

Unsaid

Summary: By now you've got a pretty good idea why you're friends with Tom, but sometimes, when it comes up, you wonder why he's friends with you. [GN reader ★ no pronouns ★ Hufflepuff house (but ngl it doesn't really come up u just gotta trust me)] Word count: 1.2k

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.

“I’m dropping out,” you announce, dumping your bag on the table and falling emphatically into the seat adjacent to Tom’s.

Tom, for his part, does not look up. His quill doesn’t even hesitate as he writes in a smooth, unbroken script across his parchment. Instead, he says: “Your bag is on my book.”

You shove it unenthusiastically to the side to reveal the open textbook he’s been working from, and then fix him with a pointed look. Tom is set up in the same little spot in the library as always, his bag at his feet and at least ten other books neatly stacked off to the side of the table. He looks (as Tom always looks) like the poster boy of adhering to the uniform dress code.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what’s wrong?” you say, slightly put out.

“I would not bother,” he says simply, leaning forward and dipping his quill in a small inkwell in front of him. “I’ve come to accept the inevitability of you telling me all sorts of things I don’t care to hear about, whether I ask about them or not.”

He resumes writing.

You kick his chair leg lightly and his quill skips sharply down the page, leaving a jolted line about an inch long off where he’d been writing the word putrescence.

This finally makes him look up, fixing you with a supremely irritated glare that’s made his whole face go tense.

You lean your elbows on the table and smile at him.

Tom’s jaw works slightly, and he takes a long breath. “What’s wrong?” he asks sarcastically.

“Well,” you say as he puts down his quill and bends to pick up his bag. “In Herbology this morning when we were cracking Wiggentree nuts, Lucy Grollen had this horrible allergic reaction and her feet swelled up so much that her shoes burst.”

“And this affects you how?” Tom drawls, diligently rubbing a Spellfriends eraser across his parchment.

You give him a scandalised look. “She’s my friend, Tom.”

He gives you a very dry look and then flips the eraser over to the purple side. “I hardly think you’d be tempted to leave the school because your friend is allergic to nuts.”

“Well she’s also my greenhouse partner,” you say dramatically, throwing yourself back in your seat, “and because she had to go to the hospital wing I had to finish the rest of the assignment alone­, and obviously by the end of class I didn’t have all our nuts cracked so Beery made me stay late to finish them. And that meant that I missed the sign up for the fieldtrip to the Menagerie of Mirabilia.”

Tom throws down the eraser and exhales in frustration. The ink remains unmoved. “You have been talking about that fieldtrip for six weeks,” he says in a clipped tone, pulling his wand from his bag. “And I have been telling you for six weeks that it was going to fill up quickly. Evanesco.”

The eraser shavings on his parchment vanish and leave both of you staring at the tenacious line of ink—which if anything, now just looks a little smudged.

His little comment about the whole six weeks thing has not left you feeling very sympathetic for him. “Wow. You have got to tell me what kind of ink you buy,” you say with a smirk as Tom tosses his wand onto the desk in frustration.

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” he says hotly, folding his arms and finally looking at you properly as he leans back in his chair. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“What happened with the fieldtrip?” he prompts irritably.

“Oh – so as I’m sure you remember, I promised Madeline I’d go with her on the fieldtrip because she’s obsessed with magizoology at the moment, so then I had to tell her I wasn’t going, and she was so upset, and I couldn't stop thinking about it because I felt so bad. So then I was really distracted in Transfiguration and of course Dumbledore notices and asks me to recite the whole definition of Amandation’s Command in front of everybody.” You sigh loudly. “So I can’t do it because I hadn't been paying attention, but then he points to the board and the definition is written right there and I just hadn’t noticed, and everyone laughed at me.”

You cross your arms too, feeling sorry for yourself. “The only solution is to drop out,” you reiterate moodily.

“This is one of your jokes,” says Tom delicately.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Yes well spotted.”

“You’ve ruined my assignment,” he says, nodding at it.

“You ruined your own assignment. With your callousness.”

Rather surprisingly, Tom snorts a laugh. “I would loathe to be my friend, to hear you describe it,” he says with suspicious ease as he extracts a new roll of parchment from his bag. “It begs the question as to why you persevere.”

“Very occasionally, you do something really nice,” you say, watching him with suspicion. Tom’s irritability rarely fades this quickly. “I just kind of zone out all the bits in-between where you’re weird and sarcastic.”

“Weird and sarcastic?” Tom repeats, lips curling. “Have you been listening to yourself since you sat down?”

“My life is ruined, and you’re worried about an assignment.”

“Your life is not ruined,” he says monotonously as he begins diligently copying over his work.

“I’m upset about this and all you care about is telling me that it’s not a big deal!”

Tom sighs curtly and looks up at you, leaning forward a bit and resting his forearms on the desk. “Your life is not ruined. Lucy Groggen is going to be fine, Wiggentree nut allergies are fairly common and the reaction doesn’t last more than an hour, the worst she’ll have to deal with is buying a new pair of shoes. Beery should never have made you complete a two-person task by yourself and it’s ridiculous that he kept you late because of his own poor class management. If Dumbledore was half the teacher that he claims to be, he might have noticed that you were upset about something and think to ask you about it, but his mistake is made all the more egregious given that he chose to single you out in front of the whole class with what sounds like a very silly little trick. And I wouldn’t worry about upsetting Madeline if I were you, because I signed you up for the fieldtrip.”

He resumes writing without another word. You stare at him, dumbfounded. A full ten seconds passes before you can rouse yourself to speak again.

“You signed me up for the fieldtrip?

Tom’s eyes remain level on his work—he’s writing at lightning speed like he’s trying to make up for the lost time. “You have been talking about it for six weeks. It seemed odd that you failed to show up.”

You look at your bag still lying dejectedly on the table in front of you and attempt to process the glowy, warm feeling spreading up through your chest. “Thanks,” you say blandly.

He just looks up at you with a glint in his eyes about halfway between wry and cynical.

“I feel bad about your assignment,” you announce.

Tom slowly smiles, this time very wryly indeed. “You have certainly changed your tune.”

You grab your bag and pull out your water bottle, placing it emphatically on the desk beside him.

Tom’s dark eyes flick from it to you, and he lifts a brow. “Is this supposed to mean something to me?”

“You have to wet a Spellfriends for it to work,” you mumble, folding your arms and resting forward on the desk.

He stares at you in a sort of frozen state of disbelief. “You mean you let me suffer through all of that for absolutely no reason?” he demands in half-subdued outrage.

“There was a reason!” you protest, smiling at him again. “It was funny.”

He blinks once, and then snatches the drink bottle off the desk, shaking his head. “You are extremely irritating,” he says icily, twisting the bottle open.

“Huh, sounds like a nightmare being my friend to hear you describe it,” you parrot back at him with a grin. “One wonders why you persevere, Tom.”

Tom pauses, and instead of the scathing look of irritation or perhaps a biting remark back, he just looks at you with an unplaceable expression like you’ve caught him off guard.

“What?” you frown, sitting up a little in concern.

Tom blinks slightly and then holds out his hand. “Pass me the Spellfriends,” he says colourlessly.

You arch a brow right back at him, and retrieve the eraser from where it’s been lying discarded for the last few minutes in front of you. “If you were wondering what I meant by the weird part in weird and sarcastic…” you say to him pointedly, placing it in his hand.

Tom silently erases the offending ink stain with a taut jaw and an irascible look darkening his eyes.

“Hey,” you say.

He ignores you entirely, sweeping the fresh shavings off his parchment and setting the eraser aside.

“Hey,” you repeat, reaching out and taking his arm.

Tom’s gaze immediately flashes to you and he goes entirely still.

“Thank you,” you tell him sincerely. “For the field trip.”

He does not immediately reply. A second later his lips part like he’s going to say something, but they close like he thinks better of it. He blinks, and then pulls his arm from yours to reach for another book. “Are you intending on actually doing work this evening, or was this visit’s entire premise just to disrupt me?”

You roll your eyes, and reach for your bag again with a smile.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.

[lavellaned]

In a previous post I mentioned that I heard Solas say this when my Lavellan got downed in battle and I managed to record it.

Anyways, this is what I was talking about when I found out that romanced companions can have different dialogue when Inky gets hurt.

[nat-without-a-g]

I probably shouldn’t find this funny, but as someone who was Terrified of learning to drive, I could never imagine being in TJ’s position. Your first time driving, you are the oldest of your peers, and you EXPLODE THE ENGINE? I would never sit behind the wheel again. There’d be no recovering. Even IF someone manages to force me to take lessons long enough to re-learn and get a license, I’d never want to sit in the driver’s seat again in my life, I’d burn the liscense.

Aaaand I just realized that I think TJ is the only dad we never see drive a vehicle in season 2 so he probably feels the same way I do.

[riacte]

so hey guys i finished dungeon meshi yesterday and i'm still thinking about it

[jascurka]

Suzuki "what do you plan to do with that filthy cat?" Toichiro

Me and @rxraltzna were talking about Toichiro ending up liking the kitty and silly shenanigans involving them. The name is Tabby!

[m00ngbin]

AHHHHHH CHAPTER 18!!!! CHAPTER 18 OF TFS!!!!!!

[viridian-house]

remembering the time I asked my ex to please make some distance between himself & my bestie because of remarks he'd made to me about her body and his response was to get home, sit on the sofa and fold his hands, and look at me and say "since you're thinking I'm cheating on you, I can only assume this means you're projecting your own guilt onto me and you're the one cheating. I'd like to look through your phone now."

and guess who ended up being the one cheating 🥲