#I sacrificed him later don’t worry

[applinsoda]

I was traveling in Silk cradle when Shamura decided to summon some of my followers and pit them against me. One o them was my (then) husband who proceeded to glitched out and become immortal. He then started infinitely dispensing skeletons and I had to quit the game…now you get this crappy doodle yay ✨✨✨

[p1astr81]

sleep deprived - op81

an: I’m still thinking about girldad!oscar so here’s another little blurb part 1

in which: mom!reader gets to a point of dangerous exhaustion, worrying Oscar.

pairing: dad!oscar piastri x mom!reader

warnings: pet names (baby, honey), if there’s any others lmk!

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You stumbled into the kitchen, and Oscar noticed almost instantly that you weren’t okay. He called your name softly but received no answer.

He noted the curve of your arm, as if your daughter, isla, was resting in your arms. But she was rolling around on her play pad right next to Oscar. Worry overtook every one of Oscar’s thoughts.

He watched with concerned eyes as you opened the fridge and pulled out a nearly empty baby bottle. He calculated his next moves carefully, not wanting to make you upset. You tilted the bottle as if to feed the invisible baby.

Oscar called your name again and received a tired him in response. “Baby I think you need to rest.” He suggested.

You shook your head, moving to sit on the couch near him. “Isla needs me.” You mumbled the explanation. It was hardly even coherent.

He glanced at Isla to make sure she was distracted enough before leaving her side. He sat next to you, taking the bottle from your hands. You whined, “No, Isla-“ “Isla’s on the floor.” He pointed out with a sigh. You frowned, and suddenly the baby in your arms was no longer there.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed.” Oscar stood, taking your hand with him but you refused to budge. “But she needs me.” Your gaze was on your daughter who was currently chewing on a silicon ring used for teething.

“It’s alright. I’ll look after her.” He tugged on your hand again, but you remained where you sat.

Oscar sighed, and despite your protests, he hoisted you into his arms. “Hey, put me down!” Your demands fell onto deaf ears. You tried to squirm but he only held you tighter.

He kicked your bedroom door open and laid you carefully on the bed. When you tried to get up, he pushed you right back down. “If I have to hold you down until you go to sleep, I will.” He was stern with it, pointing a threatening finger at you.

You finally huffed, settling into the sheets. “Fine. Just wake me up in an hour.” You grumble.

Safe to say, Oscar did not wake up up in an hour. He treaded around the house on his tip toes, wincing when a floorboard would creek.

You were approaching hour two when isla started to cry. She’d just ate, so Oscar assumed it was a teething issue. He offered her the teething toys but she rejected all of them after just a couple of bites. So he sacrificed his finger for isla to chew on, and thankfully she didn’t reject that one. He cautiously peeked his head into your bedroom, and silently cheered when he saw that you were still fast asleep.

It wasn’t until sixteen hours later that you woke up.

The room was dark, the blackout curtains drawn closed. The smell of bacon and pancakes wafted through the air in your room. “Breakfast for dinner?” You asked to the empty space before turning to the clock. What should’ve been 17:30 was actually 8:51.

“Oscar!” You yelled, storming out of the room to confront him. You stood at the kitchen island next to isla in her high chair, glaring holes into the back of Oscar’s head.

He turned and smiled at you sweetly. He carried a plate of fluffy pancakes and bacon over to you, placing it right in front of you. He chose to ignore your sharp gaze. “Morning, honey.” He greeted, placing a kiss on your temple.

“Don’t ‘morning honey’ me! Why didn’t you wake me up?” You demanded of him while isla babbled beside you and tossed a piece of bacon at you. “Thanks, love.” You replied sarcastically, placing the strip back on her plate.

Oscar just smiled, unfazed by your reaction. “You needed the sleep.”

“I didn’t-“

“You slept for sixteen hours. You didn’t even wake up when isla was crying. You were too exhausted to even admit it, and you were hallucinating.” He stated, gentle and cautious. The worry in his voice, and the concern on his face made you frown. “I love you, and I love how independent you want to be, but you’re not alone in this. You’re taking on more responsibilities than you need to and you’re not looking after yourself.” Oscar’s hands found your waist. He held onto you with a light grip. “And it’s killing me with worry.” He confessed.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered, not meeting his eyes.

His hands moved from your waist to cup your cheeks. He lifted your head, forcing you to look him in the eyes. He closed the gap between you, leaving a soft peck on your lips. “It’s okay. Just promise me you’ll give yourself a break when you need it.”

You bit the inside of your cheek before nodding. He smiled and kissed you again, breaking apart to laugh when Isla started screeching happily.

[helenofsparta2]

Having the whole plot between Nico and Percy be resolved simply with “You’re not my type” in Blood of Olympus was such a huge disservice to both characters

They are pivotal parts to each others journey. No person in PJO influenced Nico as much as Percy did, aside from Bianca, and no person represents Percy’s guilt and the responsibility he had to shoulder more than Nico does. The writing for both characters really suffers through this lack of a real satisfying resolution.

First to talk about what Percy represents for Nico:

Percy, first of all, represents Nico’s introduction to the mythological world

He is the first demigod Nico ever came in contact with

He saved him and Bianca from the manticore (somewhat)

Nico stated in Blood of Olympus than Percy had reminded of the heroes of his mythomagic game come to life

Nico wholeheartedly believed that Bianca would be safe, if Percy was with her and created this image of the perfect hero in his mind, putting Percy on a pedestal

2.

In Nico’s mind Percy is irrevocably intertwined with Bianca and everything that happened to her

Despite Nico naively believing, that Bianca would be safe if Percy were around, he was instead the last person to ever talk to her, and present when she died

Percy informed Nico of her death (Dead silence. I stared at Chiron. I couldn’t believe nobody had told him yet. Then I realized why. They’d been waiting for us to appear, to tell Nico in person, Titan’s curse)

Nico turned him into the scapegoat for her death, so that he could let all his grief and anger and bitterness out on him

Bianca sent Iris-messages to Percy, so that he would find and help Nico (“Percy has been worried about you, Nico. He can help. I let him see what you were up to, hoping he would find you.”, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Her ghost only appeared to Nico when Percy was with him

Percy is the only person Nico knows of, who also grieved for Bianca (“Bianca,” I said. My voice was thick. I’d felt guilty about her death for a long time but seeing her in front of me was five times as bad, like her death was fresh and new. I remembered searching through the wreckage of the giant bronze warrior she’d sacrificed her life to defeat, and not finding any sign of her. “I’m so sorry,” I said. Battle of the Labyrinth)

3.

Percy is the person who protected and cared for Nico more than anyone else in pjo

Tried to convince Bianca to think more deeply about her decision of joining the hunters, especially thinking of him (“Biance, this is crazy,” I said. “What about your brother? Nico can’t be a hunter.” (Titan’s curse)

Searched the woods in the dark for hours after he had disappeared (Annabeth and Grover helped me search the woods for hours, but there was no sign of Nico di Angelo.)

Didn’t tell Chiron about Nico’s parentage to protect him from the Gods. (I don't think Nico understands who he is. But we can't go telling anyone. Not even Chiron. If the Olympians find out—") Titan’s curse)

Decided to completely commit to the prophecy, solely so Nico didn’t have to bear that burden and go trough any more suffering(It was the last thing I wanted, but I didn't say that. I knew I had to step up and claim it. "I can't let Nico be in any more danger," I said. "I owe that much to his sister. I… let them both down. I'm not going to let that poor kid suffer any more." ) Titan’s curse)

Searched for Nico in the months after Titan’s Curse (Now, six months later, I hadn’t even come close to finding him. It left a bitter taste in my mouth. Battle of the labyrinth, chapter 3))

Saved his life on Geryon’s farm. (“Either way, you get my friends,” I said. “But, if I succeed, you’ve got to let all of us go, including Nico.”)

Always offered Nico a place at camp half-blood to the best of his abilities (“We missed you at dinner,” I said. “You could’ve sat with me.”“No.”“Nico, you can’t miss every meal. If you don’t want to stay with Hermes, maybe they can make an exception and put you in the big house. They’ve got plenty of room.”, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Invited him to join him on his birthday (“Is that… is that blue birthday cake?”He sounded hungry, maybe a little wistful. I wondered if the poor kid had ever had a birthday party, or if he’d ever been invited to one. “Come inside for cake and ice cream,” I said. “It sounds like we’ve got a lot to talk about.”, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Reminded him that he was still a child (I smiled. “Maybe it’s okay to still be a kid once in a while.” I tossed him the statue, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Helped him to get the sword of hades back to impress his father (Then I looked at Nico. Unfortunately, I recognised the expression on his face. I knew what it was like wanting to make your dad proud, even if your dad was hard to love., Sword of hades)

Acknowledged everything Nico did in The last Olympian and is one of the main reasons why Hades has a cabin at camp. ( “But your children should not be left out. They should have a cabin at camp. Nico has proven that.”)

4.

Percy was Nico’s first, and after Will, his biggest love

Nico had feelings for Percy, which didn’t leave him for around 2 1/2 years, and accompanied him throughout the most challenging parts of his life. 

Feelings, which were so deep, the god of love personally acknowledged them.

Favonius even called Percy, the person Nico cares about most in House of Hades.

This was more than just a mere crush

Percy is so completely intertwined with most aspects of Nico’s character arc, in both PJO and Hoo, be it his feeling of ostracism, his relationship to Bianca or him coming to term with his own sexuality, that them not having a final interaction, makes his writing feel shallow and unfinished. Especially Nico coming to terms with his crush on Percy opens up the opportunity for a really heartwarming conversation and a moment of character growth and maturity for both of them, instead of it being wasted on one throw-away line.

And it’s the same the other way around. Nico is also a huge part of Percy’s journey.

He especially represents Percy’s biggest failure.

The first five Percy Jackson books are characterized by Percy having to take up responsibility and him being afraid of not being able to fulfill them. Be it responsibility for camp, the world, Bianca’s death, the prophecy, his friends, teh unclaimed demigods, or everything else. Most of the time, Percy was able to make sure everything turned out fine. He saved camp, he saved Olympus, he finished his quests, made the right decision for the prophecy, and he made the gods swear upon teh styx. But there’s one exception. And that is Nico.

Percy did everything in his power to make sure Nico would be spared any more hardships. He took up the burden of the prophecy, explicitly, so that Nico doesn’t have to go through any more hardships

He searched for him after Titan’s curse, kept his identity a secret and even risked himself, Annabeth, Grover and Tyson dying if it meant saving Nico

Still, Nico is one of the characters, if not the character, who has suffered the most in PJO and Hoo, even partly because of Percy (though, of course, Nico having a crush on him was not Percy’s fault at all)

He lived alone at 11 years old on the streets and in the labyrinth, while getting manipulated by an ancient evil spirit

He was isolated and ostracized at camp half-blood

He experienced the horrors of Tartarus completely on his own

He got captured by the giants and slowly suffocated to death in a small jar

He had to deal with internalized homophobia and his complicated feelings regarding Percy

He has been a vital part of two wars at only 15 years old

Had to admit his crush involuntarily in front of Jason, etc.  

One of the things Percy battles with in Heroes of Olympus is this overwhelming sense of guilt. He blames himself for almost everything that went wrong over the last few years. Be it for Iapetus, Calypso, or especially Nico. Having Percy acknowledge this complicated relationship he has with him during House of Hades, but not allowing the two of them to talk it out is genuinely baffling to me, and one of the (albeit many) reasons why I really don’t like most of Percy’s writing during Heroes of Olympus, despite the fact that he is my favourite character by far. This could have led to a moment of character growth, where Nico helps Percy to aknowledge that he feels guilty for things he had little to no control over, while Nico himself realizes how important he actually is to Percy.

They are also so similar in terms of who they are and what they’ve been through, that even if you ignore their history with each other, it seems insane, that they didn’t interact in any meaningful way:  

Both were ostracized at camp half-blood because of their parentage, and so far are the only two half-bloods we know of with that experience

They are (together with Hazel) the most powerful demigods in the Riordan verse, and have feats which far surpass anyone else’s

Both are in some way afraid of their powers

Both went through Tartarus

Both have relatively similar relationships to their godly parents

Both have gone through immense trauma and loss

And if you read heroes of Olympus, it actually very much seems to build towards a final resolution of their relationship

Percy and Nico were, aside from Frank, the two people closest to Hazel; both saw her as a little sister, and Hazel treated them both like her brothers

Nico was the first person Percy met from his old life

Percy was the one, who received the visions of Nico being captured

From everyone present, Percy trusted Nico to lead the others to Greece in his moment of greatest desperation

They both had introspections about the other in house of Hades, Nico having to deal with his crush and Percy with his guilt in Tartarus

But, in the end, after they met again, nothing happened. The only scene we really got was the “You’re not my type” line and Percy being surprised by it for a couple seconds. That’s it.

We saw no meaningful conversation between the two of them, no acknowledgement of what they’ve been through together, no lasting feelings. Nothing.

In regards to their relationship, Percy acknowledging everything that Nico has been through led to nothing. Nico acknowledging his feelings for Percy and finally letting go of this pedestal he had placed him on led to nothing. You could argue that their entire relationship, which has been built up since Titan’s curse led to nothing. And considering that they are so important characters for each of their character arcs, their characterization very much suffers from this writing decision.

The two of them, together with Hazel, are my three favourite Riordan verse characters by a long shot, but some very important aspects of both of their characters fall so flat to me through this lack of a satisfying resolution.

 Both of them deserved so much better.  

They are the friendship with the most missed potential in the entirety of the Riordan verse and probably the most fleshed out and nuanced relationship Rick ever wrote.

R.I.P.  Nico di Angelo, and Percy Jackson, you will always be brothers in my mind.

[venuscarrotsoup]

Gyomei had siblings??!

Oh my god this man has really lost everyone hasn’t he, and the fact nobody speaks about this? He is criminally underrated and forgotten about it HURTS. It states he lost them to illness and hunger and they lived in the temple with him, this gives us an insight into why Gyomei took over the responsibility of taking care of the orphans, they were all younger than him and he didn’t want them to starve or end up dying by illness like his brothers, which is why he always made sure the orphans had the most food ☹️

Gyomei literally lost everyone in his life, he isn’t only insanely strong physically but also mentally, he’s so mature, and hides his anguish and turmoil well, being able to cope in healthy manners and release it all in his tears as he cries often due to his empathy for the cruelty of the world, which he knows about since he’s been a victim of that cruelty his whole life.

Gyomei lost his mother after she gave birth to his youngest brother, then his father due to an illness. Gyomei then lost his brothers, leaving the orphans as his new found family, he lost them too, leaving him alone and with no family. Kagaya ends up freeing Gyomei and taking him in, they build a strong bond over the course of times, 8 years later, BOOM, Kagaya sacrifices himself, and he would’ve died anyways due to his curse/illness. At 20 years old Gyomei takes in Shinobu and Kanae and ends up sending them to trainers, he holds himself responsible for them, if they die, it’s his fault, he also becomes a little bit attached to them, thinking of them like how he thought of the orphans. Kanae dies, Gyomei most likely deemed it as his fault since he introduced her to a trainer, he also had to see Shinobu change drastically and seek vengeance, he also knew she would end up sacrificing herself for her cause, just like Ubuyashiki, he wanted to tell her he hoped she wouldn’t die, but knew he couldn’t stop her. Gyomei became acquainted with muichiro, fussing over him due to how young he was, being the fatherly figure he has been practically his whole life. Muichiro ends up dying, in front of Gyomei. Then there’s Genya, Gyomei takes in Genya as a ‘step-son’ since he can’t use breathing styles, Gyomei also built a bond with Genya, as he cared for him, giving him a home and company and support when he sought him alone and eating demons, he even makes sure to look over Genya since he worries about his anger issues. He witnesses Genya dying as well.

Nobody talks about how Gyomei lost every single person close to him, but still persisted, he was happy when he died because he could finally be with those he lost and could resume his life with the orphans, taking care of them, like he always has, it’s in his nature to take care of those in need, especially those who are young.

Gyomei, they don’t love you like I love you ☹️💓

[formulawolff]

x. bringing the heat in miami - t.w.

pairing: female driver! x toto wolff

word count: 3.6k

warnings: cursing, mentions of sex, mentions of masturbation, lewd humor, age gap relationship, ANGST, naughty text messages, banter, light flirting, toto being down astronomically bad (like actually in the trenches) yadayadayada

prev. | next.

party in the city where the heat is on 

all night, on the beach till the break of dawn

“welcome to miami”

“bienvenidos a miami"

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

will smith’s infamous track fills your ears as you stroll in through the main gate of the track, fans clustered in thick waves. your name is called more times than you can count. posters, caps, shirts, you name it, wave about, begging to be signed. 

the sun shines overhead, casting bright, fiery light all around. although it was only around eight in the morning, humidity clung to the air, creating a sticky, dewy sensation on your exposed skin. fluffy clouds drift along, carried by a breeze as it rolls through. 

god, the weather was perfect.

hopefully it would be like this on race day.

“welcome to miamiiii,” alex bobs his head, singing along to the music, “are you excited? it is your home turf, after all.”

“if we were in phoenix, i think i would feel a little closer to home,” you suppress a giggle, “but yes, i am really fucking excited. everyone loves a race in their home country.”

“we’ll be in austin soon enough in october,,” alex shrugs, “when we’re in austin, i need you to show me how to ride a bull and teach me how to perfect that smooth texas drawl. i want to be like one of those little aunties who always say, ‘y’all come back now!’ like dolly parton! ” 

“you’re ridiculous,” the giggles blossom into a full-on laugh, “you don’t just start speaking with a southern accent. that’s not how that works.”

“sure it is,” alex nods, “hey, your parents are coming out for the race, right?”

“yes sir! they will finally get to see their baby girl in action!”

“they didn’t come out for a single grand prix last year?” alex raises a brow.

“i wasn’t winning races last year,” you counter, “i told them not to worry about spending that money during my rookie year. not everyone’s parents are loaded, you know.”

which, was a true statement. 

your parents had invested their time, hard-earned cash, weekends off, and a portion of their lives to get you here. you didn’t expect them to fly out for every single grand prix, make every event, or pay another dime towards your expenses. 

unlike many of the drivers, you were not born into an extremely lavish lifestyle. your parents were modest people, who happened to have a child later in life. ever since you were born, they lived in the same house, drove the same vehicles, and got by adequately. since they both worked full-time, getting you into the racing world was no simple feat. 

yet, they were determined to make your dreams become a reality. after years of careful coordination to the karting tracks, weekends devoted to races, and thousands upon thousands of dollars spent, you were offered a contract with williams racing. of course, you accepted that offer graciously. 

now, you were steadily paying your parents back for their dedication. once you signed your contract and those zeroes hit your bank account, you went out to the nearest dealership, purchasing a suburu wrx. with the premium package, at that. 

you would never forget your dad’s face the moment you pulled into the driveway, beaming as you placed the keys in his hand. 

that was one of the only moments you had ever watched him cry, wrapping you up in a tight, loving embrace.

“you didn’t have to do this. being your father is a gift in itself.”

“but you deserve it. you’ve sacrificed so much so that i could be in this position.”

“and you deserve nothing but the best, baby girl. you are going to be one of the greatest drivers formula one has ever seen. you make us so proud. keep making us proud. keep defying those odds. keep making history, baby girl.”

keep making history, baby girl.

as you stroll into the paddock, greeting the engineers, pit crew, and other team members, you can’t shake that feeling brewing deep within. 

it’s is a fiery desire, setting you ablaze with determination. 

you were going to keep making history. 

you were going to be the first american to win the miami grand prix. 

you were going to be the first woman to win two consecutive grand prixes. 

you were going to be the first woman to earn that title of world champion. 

you were going to chase that high. by any means possible. 

and nothing was going to stop you now. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“look at him,” lewis hamilton shakes his head, “he looks absolutely pitiful.”

“you think his little relationship is on the rocks?” 

“quite the contrary mate,” lewis remarks, folding his arms across his chest, “i think it’s more like the poor man is depraved. obviously the euphoria has worn off. he’s come down from that high. the man is craving more. plain and simple. a hand can only do–”

“i don’t need the mental image of my team principal wanking off,” george russell scoffs, rubbing his temple, “fuck, that is disgusting, lewis.”

toto wolff stood a few meters away from the drivers, engaged in deep conversation with bono and members of the crew. now that lewis knew the truth, he couldn’t help but notice how much power that american girl held over the team principal. it was almost as if he were deep in a trance, under some sort of spell. 

it was pitiful, really. just the sight of her was enough to send the team principal spiraling, intoxicated off her alluring aura. not like lewis could blame toto, though. there was no denying that the woman was extremely breathtaking. 

with her stunning features, witty mouth, unapologetic personality, and angelic presence, she was practically miss america.

well, not practically. 

she was miss america.  

everyone adored her. lewis could barely go throughout his morning without hearing her name being mentioned. whether it was fans, journalists, social media, even members of the mercedes crew, she was the hot topic of formula one, taking the world by storm.

toto was a lucky man. an extremely lucky man. 

if only she was into men her age. 

“my apologies mate,” lewis nudges george with his elbow playfully, “did we have anything going on today? any obligations?”

george’s brow furrow, sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, “if we’re being honest, i can’t really remember. i think something to do with monster energy, maybe.”

“perfect,” lewis licks his lower lip, fishing his phone out of his pocket. 

time to text that little assistant. 

in all seriousness, he felt horrible for taking advantage of that young girl. she was only nineteen for fuck’s sakes, a fresh face to mercedes at the start of the 2024 season. that made her the perfect target to do his bidding. 

well, it wasn’t really bidding. 

more like investigative journalism. 

at least, that’s what lewis told himself to feel a little less guilty for what he was about to do. 

hey, do you by chance know toto’s schedule today?

seconds later, little text bubbles appear. 

he was meeting with you guys this morning, then he has an interview with the press around two-thirty p.m. it’s nothing super serious, just a brief session entailing his thoughts for the weekend. at four, he has a zoom call with a few of the mercedes execs. after that, he told me he was going to be out for the remainder of the evening. why? 

hmmm. how convenient. 

i was just curious. thanks for letting me know! i appreciate you, natila. 

of course, mr. hamilton! let me know if you need anything else! :))) 

it was now or never. go time.

after the meeting with the mercedes executives, lewis hamilton was going to knock on toto wolff’s door. he was going to stroll into that office, settling into one of those plush leather chairs. and before toto had the opportunity to speak, lewis was going to confront him about that american girl. 

how he was going to start that conversation, he had no idea. that would come to him in time as he went about his day, meeting with sponsors, flashing that lovely lewis smile, flirting with the reporters just a little. not too much so that it was obvious, but enough to make them blush a tad, giggling as they scrambled to stick to their script. 

but for now, it was time to focus on the matters at hand. 

across the track, a dutch driver strolls through the crowds, a jersey in one hand, phone in the other. glancing down at his screen, he curses under his breath at the throng of people. why were there so many people? where did they all come from? 

pausing for a moment, he taps his screen, thumb gliding through his contacts. 

“hey, where are you again?”

“we’re in the williams paddock!” her voice is an octave higher than usual, more than likely from anticipation, “we’ll see you soon!”

“sounds good,” max verstappen stifles a chuckle as he hears a voice on the other end, the words firm, demanding almost.  

“honey, who are you talking to? who’s coming over here?” 

“mom, please, just let me be on the phone for two seconds,” she exhales, “okay, i have to go. i’ll see you soon!” 

the walk to the williams paddock was excruciating, as max had to bob and weave through the masses to avoid reporters, potential sponsors, and any individual who called his name. it’s not like he didn’t like the fame that came with his success, it’s just that he didn’t like the constant cameras in his face. the prying questions. the intrusive comments. 

sometimes he wished he could just blend in, be like any other face in the crowd. yet, how could he when he was max verstappen? 

yet, as he steps into the paddock, he makes out the williams driver, her parents hovering around her as she introduces them to various members of the crew. at the sight, max can’t help but feel the corners of his lips curl into a smile as he notices the sheer and utter pride plastered across their faces. 

and they had every right to be proud of you. 

you earned it. 

“goedemorgen,” max clears his throat, raising his hand for a small wave, “i just came to stop by.”

the instant your mom realizes who is standing before her in the paddock, her eyes widen, lips parting, “oh my gosh – honey. look who it is!” 

“good morning max,” your laughter rings like bells as you cross over to the dutch driver, “how are you?”

“pretty good,” he nods, sticking out his right hand, “hallo, i’m max.”

your dad shakes his hand, squeezing it firmly, “nice to meet ya, max. i’m tony. this is my wife, heather.”

“pleased to meet you,” max beams, turning to your mom, “i brought something for you today. your daughter mentioned that you were a big fan of mine. so, i brought this jersey for you. she let me know your shirt size, so it should fit perfectly. my signature is on there somewhere, but i just can’t quite remember where.”

graciously, heather accepts the jersey, her eyes glossy, shifting to you as she wipes a tear, ��oh, honey, you planned this?”

“of course i did,” wrapping an arm around her shoulders, you pull her in for a hug, “i couldn’t bear the thought of you guys attending the race without meeting any of my friends. besides, you deserve an all-inclusive experience at your first grand prix.”

“besides,” max shoots you a wink, “i wanted to meet the woman who crafted such a talented driver.”

at max’s compliment, your mom’s face flushes, “oh please! i can barely make it on the freeway without having a nervous breakdown. i don’t know how she can drive these things. it amazes me how confident she is and–.”

“i could show you,” max offers, “i have some free time tomorrow. i’m sure we could all meet up somewhere and i could take you for a spin, show you the ropes. how does that sound?”

“oh max,” your mom waves a hand, “you do not–”

“but i want to. it’s no issue. no issue at all.” 

“then it’s a plan,” you can’t help but grin as your moms’ eyes light up, “what time works for you, max? since it’s only thursday, we’ll have some time in the morning before the practice laps. or, we could go after. whatever works for you.”

“let’s go in the morning,” max suggests, checking his phone, “i think i can make a few calls. have someone bring in a car. we’ll take it out on the track.”

“is that allowed?” your mom arches a brow, “i just don’t want you two to get in any sort of trouble. 

“oh mom,” you roll your eyes playfully, gesturing to max, “that is max verstappen. whatever max verstappen wants, max verstappen gets.”

“she’s not wrong.”

“okay fine,” your mom nods, and you feel a giggle forming at her overprotective nature. 

“just don’t give me a heart attack out there, max. i have a very important race to watch on sunday.”

as your parents talk to max, alex making his way into the conversation, you feel the buzz of your phone in your pocket. carefully, you fish it out, ensuring to shield your screen from your mom’s wandering gaze. 

this is unbearable. i need to see you tonight. are you going to have any free time? i vaguely recall you mentioning that your parents were going to be here. i will take no offense if you would like to spend time with them. i know you do not get to see them often. 

i need to be inside you, schatzi. i can’t think straight right now because the only thing i can think about is fucking that perfect pussy of yours. 

i miss my golden girl. more than anything. 

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“lewis? this is a pleasant surprise.”

“how’s it going mate?” lewis hamilton bears a quaint smile as he settles into a chair, face-to-face with the team principal, “things going well?”

“eh,” toto shrugs, his head bowed as he types away on his phone, “same old shit, you know.” 

“things going well with the horseback rider?”

oh, so he wasn’t going to drop it. silently, toto curses the attentive nature of his british driver, “they’re fine.”

“so,” lewis leans back, folding his arms across his chest, “when were you going to fess up and admit that your little girlfriend doesn’t ride horses?”

“i don’t understand what you–”

lewis scoffs, clicking his tongue, “i know exactly who your little girlfriend is because she’s a few spaces ahead of me on the grid.”

shit.

the expression painting lewis’ features is brimmed with satisfaction, his gaze piercing right through the team principal as he shifts uneasily in his desk chair, running a hand through his hair. 

toto was well aware that lewis had completely blindsided him, pinning him in a corner. it was quite literally perfect timing, as the team principal was merely minutes away from organizing his things, shutting down his computer, and heading out the door, well on his way to his golden girl. 

well played, lewis. well played. 

yet, he had to maintain his composure. he had to maintain that poker face as lewis cocks his head, prompting him to formulate some sort of witty retort. 

“i’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“bullshit,” lewis shakes his head, “you’re not a very good liar, toto. you of all people should know that i can read you like a bloody book. how long has this been going on?”

well, he had to fess up now. lewis would continue to call him out on his shit if he kept up with the lies. letting out a shaky breath, the team principal hangs his head in defeat, his heart thumping against his rib-cage, wiping his damp palms on his slacks.

no going back now. time to come clean. 

“since she won in jeddah. but if we’re being technical, it started in bahrain.”

“wait,” lewis sticks his hands up, squeezing his eyes shut, “pause. this has been going on since the start of the season? for weeks you’ve been sneaking around, meeting up with her in secret or something? was she the one who came to brackley between melbourne and suzuka?”

with all of the questions pouring from lewis’ mouth, toto’s mind reeled, a swirling torrent of anxiety, fear, and disappointment. his cheeks burn with shame, tinged pink. 

“yes, she was.”

tilting his head, lewis’ lips purse, “you like her?”

“well isn’t that blatantly fucking obvious,” propping his elbows on the desk, he massages his temples with his fingers, “how did you find out?”

“it wasn’t hard,” lewis shrugs, “i mean, i see the way you look at her.” 

toto’s eyes narrow at lewis’ vague response, “how. did. you. find. out?”

“natila texted me about it,” lewis coughs, averting the team principal’s beady stare, “she may have heard a conversation or two.” 

“regarding?” toto presses, satisfaction pumping in his veins as lewis starts to crack, shifting in the chair, “come on, lewis. you can’t just march in here and demand answers from me without sharing your sources. what did natila hear?”

“she heard the entire conversation you had with the drive to survive crew while we were in suzuka. they mentioned that they had footage of you walking over to her motorhome. that’s all natila heard. don’t fire the poor girl,” the words were rushed, breathy, “it was my fault. i asked her what she heard. i told her i would pay her if she told me what she knew.”

“well,” toto blinks, swallowing thickly, “did you end up paying her?”

“only like five thousand.”

“that’s quite a large sum over something you could have just asked me about personally,” clasping his hands together, toto raises a brow, “why didn’t you just come to me instead?”

“because you got so fucking defensive the first time i asked about it!” 

lewis did have a point. 

a good point, at that.

it was not like the team principal would have withheld information regarding his developing relationship with the williams driver. it was more like he feared what would ensue if he did share what had transpired. he trusted lewis, he really did. additionally, it wasn’t like this was just some average woman. his career, her future, and so much more were at stake. the benefits of keeping it all under wraps greatly outweighed the risk of discovery. 

more importantly, he was protective of his golden girl. 

she was his little escape from it all. a breath of fresh air after excruciatingly long nights in the paddock or disappointing days on the track. she was his sun, shining her vivid, warm, golden rays into his dreary and dull life. 

sure, toto was a billionaire. but money was not everything. 

nearly every day, toto’s mind wandered to their time spent together in brackley. the way she felt against his skin. the way her shy smile was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. the way her fingers felt intertwined with his. the way her lashes fluttered as she slept, lips parted ever so slightly. the way his hands roamed her curves, relishing the softness of her. 

that memory alone was worth far more than the number of zeroes in his bank account. 

“you’re falling in love, aren’t you?”

lewis’ voice is low, dangerously quiet. yet, there’s a curious glint in his eyes, the bitterness and anger no longer present. his body language is more relaxed, legs crossed, the driver fiddling with his thumbs. 

“i –” toto stutters, scrambling to find the right words, “yes, i am.”

“does she know?” 

“no,” he inhales sharply, “she doesn’t.”

“you want to tell her though, don’t you?”

“it would just feel rushed,” the team principal dismisses lewis’ inquiry, his voice hardening, “i have to be realistic here. no one falls in love that quickly. that’s just petulant.”

“well look at it this way,” lewis offers, “if you’ve had your eye on her for some time, then it’s really not that rushed. clearly, if you’re feeling those emotions so deeply, then it’s accumulated over time. i don’t want to pry, but how long have you been attracted to her?”

“you don’t want to know,” a chuckle rumbles in the team principal’s chest, “it’s embarrassing, really.”

“no, no, no,” lewis tuts, “tell me, toto. how long?”

“december 2022, when she signed her contract with williams. when i saw that photo of her, i knew i had to have her. last summer, in monaco, i may have slipped up and approached her at the afterparty. i flirted with her, but she dismissed me. so, i kept my distance. however, it was just growing harder and harder to stay away. it was impulsive, that night in bahrain. but i wanted to make a move before anyone else got to her.”

as toto finishes, he can’t help but notice lewis’ smirk, “holy shit, toto. you’ve been wrapped around her finger for quite some time then, yeah?”

“i wouldn’t say that–” toto begins, clicking his tongue, yet, he’s swiftly cut off as a new figure cracks open the door. 

george russell leans against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest. his lips are pressed together, forming a tightly wound frown. 

“way to include me in the gossip session, guys. what did i miss? clearly, quite a lot. if you don’t mind, i would like to join the conversation. toto, would you start from the top? even though i’ve already heard most of it, when were you going to bring it to my attention that you were fucking that bloody williams driver?”

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taglist: @younxii @toldyouitwasamelodrama @kravitzwhore @persona1lies @pucksandpower @k3ira13 @prettiest-at-the-party @martwll @annewithaneofthegreengable @zoeyjadetice2010  @sinners-98-world @laura-naruto-fan1998 @nebarious @joalslibrary @swifth0lic

as always, if i forgot to include you, please let me know! thank you all for the continuous support! i love y'all sm!! <33

[trustmypoison]

SVT with a partner that had a tough childhood

Requested? Yes!

Request: ‘Svt reaction when there s/o was in lots of foster homes as a kid and was adopted, like talking about how there s/o childhood was like and stuff ‘

A/N: the request was specific, but I think a lot of tough upbringings can lead to similar outcomes in adult life. To the requester, I hope me broadening this concept is okay and you could still relate to it. 

A/N #2: I don’t discuss the tough childhood itself, but rather what those outcomes later in life can look like. Still, if this might be a sensitive topic for you, proceed with caution. 

Prioritizes your physical safety - Seungcheol, Woozi

He doesn’t need to know details, but if he ever gets the hint that physical harm has ever come to you, he takes on a guard dog mentality. He's your body guard everywhere he goes with you. He buys you all of the self-defense keychains and teaches you how to fight if you don't know how. He installs a high-end security system in your home or apartment. These are non-negotiables for him in a way, because he doesn’t like the fear in your eyes if your personal history comes up and he refuses to let any of it repeat. So he spends a pretty significant amount of time and money to give you tools that might make you feel safer. 

Cuts out triggers for you anytime he can - Joshua, Mingyu, Vernon

He also doesn’t need all the details. Just a simple, “I don’t like this,” is enough for him to help you avoid it forever. Doesn’t matter if it’s a particular song, or the smell of cigarettes or alcohol, or the darkness in your bedroom at night. It seriously does not matter what it is because it’s all going on his list to keep in mind. He skips the song or deletes it from his music library altogether. He avoids environments with you where smoking and drinking might be prevalent. He buys you cute little night lights and lets you cuddle into him at night for some extra security. 

Tries to ease your stresses about financial security - Wonwoo, Seungkwan

He spots the amount of money in your savings one day and muses about if you’re saving for anything in particular. You say you’re not, it’s just in case you need it. He thinks that’s pretty sensible, until he sees how your definition of 'need it' varies from his. Your car breaks down for the tenth time and you’re in no rush to trade it in anytime soon, just doing minor repairs to get it up and running again. He’ll eventually talk you into trading in, if only because he worries about you sacrificing your safety in a junk car in order to keep the money in your account. He’ll also offer to help with these sort of things, not that he ever expects you to take him up on that offer. 

Helps you experience things that you might have missed out on - Jun, DK, Chan

A tough childhood can mean that you’ve never experienced a lot of things. These are fun things, like getting to decorate your own room or go on trips. Like if he ever hears you’ve never been to an amusement park, he’s taking you right away. But there are also some serious things you might have missed out on. Like if you haven’t been to the doctor in a while, he’s encouraging you to go in for a checkup. Or if you didn’t get to prioritize school, he’s encouraging you to go back and pursue something you’re interested in. These guys will not hesitate to fund any of these opportunities for you, even if you put up a fight about it. 

Tries to help you reframe the image of what a healthy family and/or relationship is - Jeonghan, Hoshi, Minghao

The first fight between you two is an eye-opening experience for him. He’s not sure what you expected, and maybe he doesn’t want to know the specifics, because you seemed to expect much worse than a little silent treatment until he figured out what he wanted to say. If you ever express any confusion about how he handles these moments of tension, he’s setting you straight. Yes, he’s upset, but he couldn’t dream of doing anything other than talking it out with you. He learns to have some extra patience, and you learn to work through the anxiety with him. 

[456x001]

okay huge essay incoming:

and this is based off a post i saw earlier by my awesome mutual @midnight--sadness (her blog is awesome btw) where she talked about gi hun’s ability to forgive in ho. so i’ll start off by prefacing some of the great points she made about gi hun’s trusting nature and his selfless ability to forgive others:

we’ve seen time and time again how trusting gi hun is even if it’s to a fault. it’s simply in his nature to trust and love and to care about other people in the selfless way he does. given that, i think he could forgive in ho. if he sees in ho actually working to make a change and make things right for the betterment of others that have been wronged by the games (and whether or not in ho will or actually even wants to is what we’ll be getting into later), i believe he can forgive him. despite all the horrible things he’s done, despite the unforgivable, irredeemable mistakes he’s made. he’s more than justified in not forgiving him but i’m just saying he might because if anyone could it’s gi hun. he’s made the point time and time again that he isn’t like the masked men and would never become hateful in the ways they are.

now let’s talk a bit about gi hun’s relationship with young-il. gi hun's worry for young-il during the games is so raw and heartfelt. he’s not just strategizing or playing to survive-he genuinely cares about young-il's well-being, even in a scenario where survival often demands selfishness. his willingness to risk everything to make sure young-il was okay shows how deeply gi hun values connection and loyalty. in ho, as the frontman, watches all of this unfold. seeing how much gi-hun cared for his alter ego “young-il" must have left a mark, even if in ho wouldn't openly admit it.

when the truth comes out that young-il and the frontman are the same person it's going to hit gi hun like a ton of bricks. gi hun will have to reconcile the caring, vulnerable young-il with the cold, calculating frontman. it will once again challenge everything he believes about people and their capacity for change. in ho, for all his control and detachment, won't be immune to this confrontation either. gi hun's unwavering belief in him as young-il could be the thing that cracks his carefully built armor.

this dynamic is so layered with unspoken emotions, unacknowledged bonds, and so much potential for heartbreak and redemption. it’s no wonder they gave us at the edge of our seats. now here’s the crux of the discussion. do we think gi hun’s belief in young-il's goodness, his inherent belief in the goodness of people could be enough to pull in ho back toward redemption?

we don’t know the answer to that yet, but i will say this. we’ve seen the final defying act of the villain sacrificing his life at the end for the greater good many times before. however, redemption doesn't always have to end in self-sacrifice. it could mean in ho finding a way to dismantle the system from the inside or choosing to protect gi hun and others while carving out a new path for himself. gi hun's belief in young-il could serve as a bridge for in ho to reconnect with the part of himself that still values humanity, without needing to face total destruction.

in a show like squid game tragedy feels inevitable but in ho's complexity gives him the potential to break free from that cycle of the self-sacrificial villain. if the writers explore his humanity further, there's room for a story where redemption and survival coexist— where he doesn't have to lose his life to find the good within himself.

it’s okay to hope. even in a world as bleak as squid game. personally, to me that feels a lot more compelling than the trope of self sacrifice that we’ve seen in the past. it gives in ho a chance to truly live with his choices, grow from them, and navigate the complexities of redemption, rather than taking the "easy" way out of a grand gesture. it’s a more challenging story to tell for sure but it would also feel satisfying.

i know it may seem like i’m trying to paint a fairy tale but here’s why i think it could work.

squid game thrives on subverting expectations. taking in ho down a path where he survives, changes, and potentially becomes an ally or disruptor within the system could be far more groundbreaking than another shock-value death. it could challenge the audience to grapple with forgiveness and morality in ways that are more impactful than a tragic ending. gi hun's unwavering hope in humanity could become the key to helping in ho see his own worth and capacity for change. in ho is such a layered character, and his survival would be more shocking in a show as grim as squid game. it would challenge the bleakness and give the story a deep emotional payoff. the shock value of how he survives and redeems himself could carry as much weight as a tragic death.

i really value the complexity and emotional depth in this show gives us in within the narrative and i can’t wait to see how hwang dong-hyuk continues to challenge the bounds of storytelling and reach beyond the obvious in season 3 as he’s done with these past two seasons.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Someone New 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: I got like insanely sick suddenly and I still feel off.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“Sam, that paradise punch was a bad idea,” you groan as you struggle to get your bag out of the trunk of the taxi. 

“Whatever,” Sam slurs as he comes around, “I tipped the driver extra. Bud, you think you can get this out for the lady?” 

The driver is all to helpful as he comes around you take the handle from you and swiftly plants the bag on its wheels. It’s everything you have that isn’t bundled up into storage or sacrificed to the dumpster. You thank the man and swallow a belch. 

“Have a safe trip, miss,” the driver nods and turns to slap Sam’s arm, “and you, sir.” 

Sam salutes the man and pushes away from the cab, your carry-on slung from his shoulder. The two of you clumsily lift the bag over the curb. You look up at the airport as the roar of jet engines cuts through the dusky air. 

“I feel like I’m drunker,” Sam snickers. 

“Uh huh, me too,” you murmur. Two hours on his couch was barely enough. If anything, it’s just set your vision askew. “They’re not gonna let me board if – hiccup—I'm blasted.” 

“Don’t worry, we can get water,” he blathers and yanks your bag onto its wheels, “off to the land of vikings! Skol!” 

“Skol?” You follow him in a clamour. 

“It’s what they say, isn’t it?” He chuckles, “I saw it on a show or whatever.” 

“I... yeah, usually while they drink, not stumbling drunk,” you rebuff. 

“Sound pretty sober to me with all that whining,” he rebukes. 

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes and follow him through the automatic doors. 

He veers off and you follow him in confusion, glancing back at the check-in counter. He stops before a bright vending machine and feels around in his pocket. He taps his card and focuses intently on pressing the button. 

“Waterrrrr,” he drones and leans on the machine to reach through the slot. 

He hands it over and you unscrew the cap. You chug half the bottle and let out an obnoxious belch. You cover your mouth in embarrassment and offer him the rest. He finishes it off and you linger by the machine as you let the cool flow settle in. 

“Feel any better?” He asks. 

“A little. I’ll have a coffee on the plane.” 

“Nah, you should sleep.” 

“Maybe,” you take out your phone and tap the side button. Nothing. 

“Anything from Mr. Carter?” Sam asks. 

“No,” you black the screen and shrug. “Come on, I gotta check my bag.” 

“You should check that boy,” he blathers as he stands straight and once more yanks the bag after you, “tell him what’s what.” 

“Sam, he’s busy--” 

“He’s your best friend! At least, he likes to say so then do nothing.” 

“Quit,” you beg him, “this is hard enough.” 

“This is what you need--” 

“I know!” You throw your hands up and face him as you come up before the counter. “I know. Okay. I’m stupid and---” you shake your head and let the truth sink back into the depths of your soul. You face the clerk and sigh, “I’m sorry, I’m here to check my bag.” 

You pull out your wallet and slide your passport across the counter. You show your boarding pass and pay for the extra weight. Your bid a safe journey and carry on with only the smaller bag still on Sam’s shoulder. 

Wordlessly, you sit in a row of seats. You look up at the clock. You’ll have to go to the boarding area sooner than later. He won’t be able to come with you. 

“Sam, I’m sorry. I just... is it that obvious?” You croak. 

He puts his hand on your back and rubs it gently. It’s soothing. The tension trickles down your sides and seeps out. It feels good to admit it aloud yet mortifying just the same. 

“No, I just sense these things. I know Steve, I know you, and I know he doesn’t deserve you. Even as just friends.” 

“Ugh,” you put your head in your hands, “I am so stupid.” 

“No, you’re not. You’re human. It stinks. Our brains, our hearts, they aren’t logical, as much as we like to pretend,” he huffs, “trust me. We’ve all been there and if we haven’t, we’ll get our turn.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” you sit up as your eyes glisten, “I just... he said he’d be here. I thought I’d at least get that--” 

Your name echoes through the airy space and you wince. Right on cue, just before you can collapse completely. You turn as Steve rushes toward you. He wears jeans and grey sweatshirt. He remembered! 

You stand as Sam sighs. You smile, only halfway before you see the figure trailing behind him. Peggy looks less than excited to be there. Her sleepy lashes flutter as her wave hair is pinned back in a messy chignon, still elegant despite the carelessness. She wears a dark green trench over a silver satin nightie. She must’ve rushed out with him. 

“Hey,” Steve nears, “sorry I couldn’t make it for drinks, but I couldn’t miss take-off.” 

“Mmm, they don’t have any afternoon flights,” Peggy mutters. 

“They do but landing doesn’t line up with the train,” you shrug and glance at her briefly. Her glare darts back at you. You wonder if that work dinner was so impromptu after all. 

“Are you excited?” Steve drops into the seat next to you. 

“Uh, yeah, nervous,” you smile as the weight lightens from your chest. He came. Maybe Sam is wrong. Maybe friends isn’t that bad. 

“It’s going to be great. You have to send me updates, oh, and I’ll be sure to send you all the wedding news!” He grins, “I still can’t believe you’re going to be so far away.” 

“It’s a good opportunity,” Peggy intones as she sits on his other side, resting her hand on his forearm, “in her line of work, I’m sure they don’t come often.” 

You press your lips tight and look down, “yeah, not really.” 

“She can get out. Make new friends. Some girl friends, maybe,” Peggy remarks. 

“I’m sure she’ll make all the friends,” Sam interjects, “I hear there isn’t much sunlight over there, she’ll be a breath of fresh air for those grumpy vikings.” 

“Mm, yes,” Peggy grumbles as she trails her hand down to Steve’s. “Too bad you won’t make the engagement party.” 

“Or the wedding,” Steve adds. 

“Well, we’ve a full wedding party as it is,” she shrugs. “There’ll be lots of pictures.” 

“Right, yeah, I’m sorry to miss it all,” you frown. “I...” you sit back and nearly choke, “I’m gonna hit the bathroom.” 

You stand as Sam puffs out heavily and to your surprise, Peggy swiftly gets to her feet, suddenly very awake. Your soberness is setting in along with a pulsing headache. You really don’t want to deal with her. If you knew he’d bring her, you’d have told Steve to stay home. 

“I’ll come with you. I’m splitting at the seams,” she trills. 

“Alright,” you agree with a tint of uncertainty. 

She twirls and you walk parallel to her towards the bathroom signs. You chalk it up to the feminine habit. It isn’t unusual to visit the toilets in pairs, even without much kinship between you. It does however spoil your attempt at respite. You less so want to empty your bladder than clear your mind. 

You don’t say a word as you enter the bathroom. You go into a stall and she does the same. Your mind clogs your biology and you have to sit and focus before you can get a flow going. By the time you’re trickling into the bowl, she’s done. A toilet flushes and you hear her unlatch the door and approach the sinks. 

She’s in heels, even at this hour. The sink sprays out water and you listen to her hum as she washes her hands. You finish up and flush, coming out meekly to use the sink next to her. You focus on the simple task as she watches you in the mirror. 

Sensing her gaze, you look up and pull your hands out from under the censor-activated faucet. You meet her eyes and nearly wince at the steely intensity. You stand straight and move past her to retrieve some paper towel. 

“This is a wise decision,” she says, “well-needed.” 

You look at her again as you dry your hands, “thanks.” 

“Oh, I’m not congratulating you. About time you got some sense,” she sneers. 

You wince and crumple up the towel. You drop it in the bin and cross your arms, “okay, well...” 

“It’s better you’re not here for any of it. He doesn’t need the distraction.” 

You chew the inside of your lip as venom drips from her voice. You’re still slightly tipsy and too tired to process this. You have no response. 

“The distance will help you get over it. Finally,” she snips, “you know, I thought it was almost endearing at first then it just became pathetic.” 

You swallow. You’re humiliated that even she could see right through you. You can hardly blame her for her spite. After all, she’s his fiancée, not you. 

“He thinks it’s silly. He laughs.” 

You flinch then. Hard. Your chest rents and your stomach boils. 

“He knows. It’s obvious. I mean, it’s convenient, isn’t it? You’ll do anything for him and really it was rather helpful. Took a lot off my plate and his but it’s time for all of us to grow up. I will be his wife and he doesn’t need some girl to measure out his laundry detergent or remind him to eat.” 

You blink and look away. You cross your arms and push your shoulders up, “got it.” 

“So why don’t you go ahead and just put him on mute now?” 

“Peggy,” you whisper. 

“We’re getting married. You know you can’t stop it, that’s why you’re running away. So end it.” 

“You don’t have to be cruel,” you mutter. 

“I could be horrid. I could have been for all these years. I believe I’ve had remarkable restraint with you,” she points a manicured nail at you, “you should be thanking me for having the grace to do this in private.” 

Your lip trembles and your cheeks tug painfully. You nod and turn away, “don’t worry, Peg, you won’t hear from me. He won’t either.” You make your way to the door, “I wish you both the best.” 

“Mm, I pray you find some clarity and perhaps some maturity along the way,” she retorts as she follows you, heels clicking loudly across the tile, “perhaps you might find someone too. Someone you deserve.” 

Her last words sting. The derision is pungent enough to make your nose crinkle. Someone you deserve... because you could never ever be good enough for Steve Rogers. 

💟

You don’t look back as you go through the gate. You can’t. It’s too painful. The tears have receded but the pain is only deeper. Peggy’s words reverberate in your head, nipping at your ears as your nape burns hotter and hotter. 

She’s right. Sam too. This is overdue. It’s exactly what you need to do. You know it. It’s the reason you chose this. That moment when you were faced with being the eternal wobbly third wheel, you made up your mind. It’s over. That part of your life is behind you, but you don’t know that you’ll ever stop feeling this way. 

It’s hard to settle in your seat, even knowing you have ten hours of flying ahead of you. Disembarking alone will be another hour at least, then finding the train station, another few hours... It’s a lot of time to think and you just can’t stop. 

You don’t take the book out of your bag or touch the screen in front of you. Instead, you sit, slumped down in your seat, eyes drifting back and forth, as you wallow in your self-pity. You stay like that through the flight. You decline the mid-flight meal and the snack cart. You don’t even get up to use the bathroom. 

You close your eyes and float away into memory. You can feel the scene around you. You can smell the stale air freshener forgotten on the shelf above the desk and hear the muffled thrum of music through the walls. You sit on the bed, your textbook open in your lap and your laptop open by your leg. Steve’s on the other end, phone in hand, texting as his golden hair flops forward over his head. 

He’s younger. That rosiness still kisses his cheeks as subtle freckles speckle his pale skin. Yet he’s just a well-built as ever. Broad shoulders, chiseled jaw, long legs. He’s the very picture that should appear next to ‘hunk’ in the dictionary. Every girl’s dream. Your dream. 

“Huh,” he chuckles and drops his phone, “this girl in my history class wants to meet up.” 

Your heart plucks and you force a smile, “a girl? Meet up?” 

“Oh, yeah, she lets me copy off her pop quiz every lecture. Guess I kinda owe her.” 

“Wow,” you utter, the only noise you can eke out. Owes her? Funny, you did his laundry last week and helped him print out his term paper... what do you get? 

“Yeah, so uh, do you think you could send me a copy of your notes?” He pushes himself to the edge of the bed. “I probably won’t be back tonight.” 

“Right,” you nod and hide your embarrassment at the insinuation. 

“You can crash here if you wanna. Long way across campus at night,” he shrugs casually as he grabs his varsity jacket. 

“No, I’ll... I’ll just go now,” you get off the bed and close up your books. 

“Probably a good idea. Just in case she wants to come back here,” he chuckles, “see ya in poli sci?” 

“Sure,” you keep your chin down. “See ya.” 

Your eyelids lift as you come out of the dazed memory.  

New York is gone. Steve is gone. You’re all alone. You’ve left it all behind but that home was never a home. It was all a farce you built on a childish hope. You’re done lying to yourself. It was never going to be. You didn’t miss any chance at all. You just wasted your own time. 

You just languish there in the airplane seat. It’s still hard to believe it’s all real. It isn’t until the wheels bounce and hit the tarmac that it fully sinks in. 

You’re not doing that again. You’re better off alone. You have to be, right? You don’t really know. You don’t even know yourself. You just know the girl who only wanted to be what he needed. 

But what do you need? What do you want? Can you figure it out? Is there anything in this land for you that you couldn’t find in New York? 

At least you’ll have lots of time to figure that out. Intimate hours with yourself to dwell and cringe and regret. Time to think, time to move on, time to cut him out. 

As you join the line to have your Visa stamped, you pull out your phone and turn off airplane mode. You swipe through to Steve’s last message. It was weeks ago. That makes it easier to hit that button; ‘mute’. It’s a start. Maybe in a few weeks, you’ll be ready to hit ‘block’. 

[captainjamster]

Pairing(s): 141 x Reader Warnings: mentions of (pixel) animal death, butchering of a pixelated cow (rip thank u for ur sacrifice) Wordcount: 2.3k Summary: How I think you would get the boys into Minecraft and/or what it would be like playing with them. AO3 Link: Right here! <3

A/N: Hello why yes, this IS my first post in four months despite the mountain of unfinished fics I have xD I will edit any errors out of this later, but I'm making myself post this because I'm tired of avoiding uploading until something feelings perfect lol

We're pretending Mojang is competent so ignore any inaccuracies to how Minecraft actually works <3

Full fic under the cut <3

Price just plays to amuse you, but he becomes competent at the game ridiculously quickly. Yes, he might jokingly be an old man, as his favourite youthful commander would put it – but this ‘old man’ can learn new tricks, and he’s pretty sure some of the technology he works with would make a civvy’s head spin. Though he’s unfamiliar with most video games and consoles, sacrificing his youth for service, that doesn’t mean he hasn’t heard of them or played a game or two. John will admit; he doesn’t see much point in it, but adores the excitement you glow with as you’re adventuring and building.

“Alright, so it’s w, a, s and d to move, right? And then the space is to jump.” Your hands barely stretch over his, guiding them to the keys.

“S’easy enough, I suppose,” he rumbles, giving you that smile that crinkles his eyes. You resist the urge to kiss them as he adjusts his hands over your keyboard, giving the buttons experimental taps and watching how the screen reacts.

“Yep, and then you use the mouse to control your head, look around and stuff.” You nudge it over to him, and he gives it a shake before looking around.

“More bloody blocks. What’s that thing, there?”

You squint, looking closer. “A sheep, don’t worry about it. You want to try moving around?”

Once you’ve taught him the basics, his rapid acclimation to the games and controls are jarring. While he doesn’t become some Minecraft speed-runner pro, he’s an equally capable player in fights and foraging, and your base is ridiculously plentiful. You’re never lacking resources, and although he never mentions it, you can see John bloom with pride from the corner of your eye whenever you praise him for the neatly organised provisions.

You have to laugh at his suspicion of everything – “is this hostile?”, “this one hostile?”, “s’hostile one?” – and the way he takes protecting you seriously, scolding you for not wearing armour and giving you his own until he can make more.

The first time his dog dies, you think it might be over for your Minecraft run. He goes silent, aggressively hitting the keys as he slaughters the mobs around you, only speaking up when the area is clear. “I didn’t know that would happen,” he mutters, picking up the dropped loot as you make a sympathetic noise. When you log on the next time, waiting for John to come back with snacks from the corner, you don’t mention the small fence with a sign reading ‘Price Jr’ tucked into the oak trees at the edge of a pond – but the next time you check it, there’s another daisy swaying in the wind next to yours.

-----

Gaz knows what Minecraft is AND he’s played it – you’ve even played it together before. This boy is a gamer, and he’s down for a night of co-op couch games and take away with a cosy blanket if you are too.

Though he tries his hardest not to let it show around you, Kyle is aggressively driven in becoming competent, and that includes in video games. You never have to worry about dying, although it becomes a little frustrating when his experience level is more than triple yours – but you can’t even stay frustrated, you learn, as he unfalteringly drops his items and starts building a dirt stack that he jumps from, exploding into clouds and XP that floats towards you with a light, twinkling chiming. When you scold him for doing something so unnecessary, he gives you a kicked puppy look over his shoulder, pouting up at you. “I didn’t want you to wait for me to make a mob farm!”

Unlike Price, this man IS a Minecraft pro – he’s pulling out the water bucket to save you from falling, using beds to fight hostile mobs in the underworlds, zooming around with fireworks and an elytra to find that rare, specific coat of cat you’ve been running across the map looking for. You’re pretty sure that he could’ve beat the Enderdragon twice as fast if you weren’t there, but he still insists you were an equal champion of the fight as he proudly places the dragon head on your trophy wall.

Gaz is always prepared when the 6-month Minecraft fever hits and you make a new server. He’s sending you pinterest links of cute house ideas, making comments about adding another coop for the chickens and a pond for turtles. Hell, he’ll build them with, or even for you, if you want him to.

Playing with him can sometimes be similar to one of those youtube tutorials that cut back to a clip after some ‘offscreen building’ and they’re standing in front six life-scale cathedrals and a replication of Mt Everest – each time you log back on, you swear he’s expanded your base by another chunk, and you can’t even be mad you didn’t get to do anything because your world looks GOOD, and Gaz makes damn sure of it.

He has just about everything you can think of, and if not? There’s a sign next to his bed for you to note anything missing. Your main base is situated within a town of villagers with minecart roads and furnished houses, bakeries, animal centres, banner and dye stores – hell, he’s even built a zoo and an aquarium for the animals you can’t tame. All of your pets have names that he refers to fondly, each with their own little houses in a miniature version of the village. Despite the effort he puts into housing them, Gaz is a menace to the villagers – bad deal? Executed, or imprisoned at best. Sometimes logging onto for a session turns into a dramatic medieval roleplay as you dutifully play the executioner, triggering the trapdoor to give way to the pool of lava while Gaz finishes dramatically reciting the villagers’ crimes from a book - gives the ones that get to live names like ‘village dunce’ and ‘emerald hoarder’.

When you do build by yourself, he’s your project advisor throughout the process, patiently supplying the materials and helping you with the details. “Babe, this doesn’t seem right,” you grumble, head in your hands, “can you please come look?”

He’s quick to slide his chair across to yours, leaning on the sides. “This one,” he announces after a quick scan. “You added an extra block.”

You recount again, letting out a groan as you start breaking the blocks, and Gaz dutifully rolls back to help you. He’s your partner in crime, complicit in indulging your abandonment of any appropriate sleep schedule, staying up until he calls out your name to find you asleep, drooling on the keyboard.

-----

Soap does not give a shit until you mod the fuck out of it.

Yes, he knows what Minecraft is, thank y’very much bonnie, but he just doesn’t care for games that much. Like Price, his youth was spent either trying to get into the military, or actually being in it. The only games he’s entertained are his small selection of first-person shooters he plays occasionally off deployment that you can never beat him in. The topic first comes up is over dinner after a call with Johnny’s family, as he’s grumbling between bites.

“My sisters weans play all sorts ‘o stupid games, bloody bite my head off if I call ‘em the wrong thing – Minecraft, Roblox, aren’t they all the same?”

“Aren’t all shooter games the same, by that assumption?” You point out to his distaste, and he makes a face at you, reaching over the table to steal a bite of your food.

The next day, you pull up Minecraft for him to properly check out. Johnny isn’t particularly enraptured by the charm of the game, but he perks up when you mention the redstone mechanics. “So, it’s really just all block-y? And ye smack things wit’ yer hand?” He frowns, leaning against the back of your chair.

“That’s one part, yeah. But you run around and gather resources, by mining and stuff, so you can craft and build better things to survive – you know – Mine, craft. Minecraft.”

Johnny scoffs, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Y’think I’m daft, now? Taken too many knocks to the head, aye?”

“Let go of me, you’re going to get me killed!” You squawk, and he lets you struggle for a moment before he kisses the top of your head and releases it, wandering into the kitchen for what you assume is a snack, knowing Johnny.

The next time he takes interest, you’re still up when he stumbles in blearily, rubbing his eyes. “Bonnie? Yer not really still playin’ this, are ye? Y’haven’t even slept?”

“I was going to sleep soon,” you huff, turning back. “I just need to get a few more things and go back home.”

There’s an incredulous noise amongst footsteps over your shoulder, and his voice is suddenly a lot closer in your ear. “Soon? S’five in’ the morn’ bon, are ye just gon’ sleep the day away?’

You pause the game, spinning the chair around to meet him with a glare. “Why are you up this early?”

“International meeting, don’t go changin’ the subject.” He spins you back around despite your protests, leaning back upon your chair once again and peering at the screen. “Cannae see what yer enjoyin’ about this.”

“Wh – I mean, it’s not like last time. This time, I’ve downloaded these files that modify the games contents, and there’s way more crazy shit. You can mod it so much it’s like a new game.”

Johnny makes a noise of interest, dropping down to settle against your shoulders. “Really now?”

“Yeah, like look at this. I’ve got a gun in the game.”

A shotgun appears in your hand as you scroll to the hotbar tab, and you shoot a shell into the ground, listening as Johnny clicks in appreciation, surprisingly satisfied after his scrutinising. “Alright, show me ‘er properly.”

He hovers over the chair for a few more minutes, taking in your overview of the mods. “Oh, and this one! Hang on, look.” You hit a cow, and Johnny watches as it falls to the floor. Grabbing the body, you drag it over to a pixelated hook, and show him how you break the carcass down through the stages, collecting parts down to the bones.

He makes a noise of interest. “Si would like that. Can ye play with other people?”

You spin around to give him an excited grin, feeling the sleepiness retreat with your rapidly building enthusiasm. “Why, you want to join?”

Johnny scoffs, but there’s no hiding how his eyes gleam as a smile tugs at his lips to mirror yours. “Only after I finish the meetin’, and y’get some decent fuckin’ rest.”

-----

Ghost doesn’t care until Soap asks him to play.

When you originally ask him, it’s a late evening, and he’s curled up on the bed with a book as you deliver the question. There’s a pause in the turning of pages, and you get the usual dead-eyed stare when you say something he thinks is stupid over the edge of his book. ‘Y’want me to play a kid’s game?”

You give him your own scrutinizing look back, before turning back to the screen. “It’s not a kid’s game, Simon. Video games aren’t just for kids.”

He doesn’t press the topic any further, but you know his mind is often unchanged - so it’s a nice surprise when he brings it back up again a month or so later over the quiet chatter of some foreign film he’s watching, stirring you to look up from the words of your book.

“Oi, what’s that game y’were talkin’ about? Bloody… Mineshaft?”

You think Simon knows perfectly well what the game is called, but you humour him, pulling the blanket down slightly to look at him. “Minecraft?”

He snorts, leaning back into the armchair. “Yeah, s’one. Johnny’s bird got ‘im into it, won’t stop yappin’ ‘bout it now.”

You hold your breath, doing your best impression of nonchalance, directing your gaze back to the book. “Oh, yeah? That’s nice, sounds like he’s excited about it.”

Simon gives a non-committal grunt, but you can tell his focus is beyond the screen he’s looking towards. “Asked me t’play it with ‘im, bloody bastard. Said ‘e’d paid for a server or some shite.”

Excitement explodes in the back of your mind as you mentally praise your husband’s co-worker, thanking him for his influence as you steady your tone. “Well, why don’t you?”

He snorts with a cross of his arms, holding the remote against his chest. “Don’t know how to do all that rubbish.”

You close the book, sitting up and waving off his statement assuredly. “I have it installed already, you don’t have to do anything – oh, but can you ask him if he’s playing with mods?”

He’s not impressed with the request, frown deepening. “What, ‘m I your personal messenger now?”

But you’re onto him already, guiding the topic back on track. “Alright,” you give him a dry look, “give me his number then.”

The show pauses, and Simon looks back at you. It takes a moment, but you know you’ve won with a roll of his eyes, grumbling under his breath as he pulls his phone out and passes it to you after another message comes through.

>> Bonnie got me a whole folder of mods. Liek a whole nother game. Yer gonna play minecraft with me?

“So what?”

“Okay, well that’s easy to set up.” You pass the phone back to him, settling into your comfy nest of blankets. “So?”

“Are you going to play with him?”

(A month later, there’s another desk snug against yours while Simon fumbles with his screen settings as a broguish laugh comes from the headset, and Friday nights are something you’re realising you’ll never get back from that goddamn pixel game)

Headers and Dividers by saradika-graphics

[bitchinbarzal]

Gossip | M Boldy

summary: you can’t date a reporter when you’re an athlete without some fallout.

-

Matt knew this was going to be a problem from the second he introduced you to his teammates.

It was in the way Brock’s easygoing smile turned stiff, how Kirill’s laughter quieted when you walked into the room, how Jake and Rossi exchanged wary glances behind your back. It wasn’t personal—at least, not entirely. It was about your job.

You were a writer for The Hockey Insider, an outlet notorious for gossip pieces that followed the team like a shadow. Kirill had been caught in a dating rumor that nearly wrecked his relationship. Jake’s contract negotiations had been spun into a fabricated feud with management. Rossi had once been accused of partying too hard—never mind that the supposed “wild night out” had actually been his mom’s birthday dinner.

So, when you stepped into their world, there was an unspoken question hanging in the air: Can she be trusted?

Matt had defended you — of course he had. He knew you. He knew the way you analyzed plays more than drama, how you hated the clickbait articles as much as they did. He knew you didn’t write that kind of stuff.

But the doubt still lingered.

And then he saw the text.

It wasn’t like he had meant to snoop. He was trying to find a text from himself he’d sent you important information about.

Boss: We need something on Brock. Preferably messy. Let me know what you’ve got.

Matt felt his stomach drop.

Footsteps sounded behind him, and a moment later, you walked into the room, fresh out of the shower. Your hair was damp, your skin still flushed from the heat, and you were wearing one of his old Wild hoodies — one you’d stolen months ago and never gave back.

You looked at ease, content.

Matt had never felt more off-balance.

“You need something on Brock?” His voice came out sharper than intended.

You blinked, eyebrows knitting together. “What?”

Matt turned your phone screen toward you. “Your boss. Looking for dirt on Brock.”

Your body went rigid.

Matt scoffed, shoving the phone onto the counter. “Jesus, Y/N.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“What I think,” he repeated, voice rising, “is that my teammates were right to be on edge around you.”

You flinched, hurt flashing across your face. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” He let out a bitter laugh. “I’ve been defending you for months. Saying you don’t write that shit, that you wouldn’t sell us out. And now you’re sitting on a story about one of my teammates?”

You exhaled sharply, frustration flickering in your eyes. “I didn’t write anything.”

“But you were going to.”

“No,” you snapped. “I wasn’t.”

“Then why does your boss think you have something?”

Silence.

Just for a second. But it was enough.

Matt shook his head, stepping back like he didn’t even want to be near you. “Unbelievable.”

“That’s what they do, Matt,” you said finally, voice tight.

“They assume I’m sitting on something because I have access. Because I’m around you. Around them.”

Matt ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “And what? You just ignore them? How long before you give in?”

That’s when you laughed.

It wasn’t a happy sound. It was bitter, exhausted.

“Give in?” you echoed, shaking your head. Then you met his eyes, and for the first time, you looked tired.

Defeated, you mumbled “Matt, I quit.”

The words knocked the wind out of him.

“What?”

“I quit,” you repeated, voice thick with emotion. “Because I knew this would happen. I knew they’d want me to sell you out. And I couldn’t, I wouldn’t do that. Not to you, not to Brock, not to any of them.”

Matt felt like the floor had just disappeared beneath him.

“You—” He swallowed hard “You didn’t tell me.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I wanted to find something else first. I didn’t want you to think it was because of you.”

“But it was because of me,” Matt said quietly.

You didn’t answer.

Matt dragged a hand down his face. He had spent so much time worrying about whether you would betray him that he hadn’t stopped to consider the sacrifices you had already made.

“I’m sorry” he said, voice softer now. “I should’ve trusted you”

You exhaled slowly, staring down at your phone like it physically pained you. “Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “You should’ve.”

And with that, you turned, grabbed your phone off the counter, and walked out the door.

Matt didn’t stop you.

He wasn’t sure he had the right to.

You and Matt didn’t talk for weeks.

At first, he told himself it was for the best. You had fought, you had left, and maybe that was how things were supposed to end. But that didn’t stop him from noticing the silence. No more texts, no more calls. No more waiting for you after games, no more waking up to you stealing his hoodies.

It was stupid how much he missed you.

The guys didn’t bring you up much—not after that night when you stormed out—but Matt caught the way Brock, Kirill, Jake, and Rossi sometimes looked at him like they wanted to say something. Like they knew.

Still, he pushed it aside. Focused on hockey.

The team was in the thick of the playoff race, every game crucial. After a big win, the locker room was buzzing, laughter bouncing off the walls as guys peeled off their gear.

“Hey, check this out,” Rossi said from across the room, holding up his phone. “Hockey Weekly just put out a piece on us.”

Kirill scoffed. “If it’s that one guy again, I don’t care.”

“No, no,” Rossi said, scrolling. “This one’s actually good.” He cleared his throat and started reading:

“The Minnesota Wild aren’t just a team fighting for a playoff spot—they’re a team built on chemistry, resilience, and a camaraderie that’s impossible to fake. From Kirill Kaprizov’s dynamic playmaking to Brock Faber’s defensive reliability, from Matt Boldy’s quiet consistency to Marco Rossi’s relentless drive, this team has found a way to balance youth and experience in a way that just works.”

The guys hooted in approval.

“But beyond the stats and standings, what makes this team special is the belief they have in each other. Watch them on the ice, and you’ll see it. A team that doesn’t just play together, but plays for each other. A team that, if they keep this up, could be a real threat in the postseason.”

Rossi looked up. “Damn. Who wrote this?”

Jake leaned over, glancing at the byline. Then he froze.

Matt caught the shift in his expression immediately. “What?”

Jake turned his phone around so Matt could see the name at the top of the article.

Y/N L/N

The room went quiet.

Matt felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

He should’ve known. The writing, the insight—it was you. You had always talked about wanting to cover the game itself, not the drama. And now, even after everything, you had still found a way to do that.

And you had written about them.

Not gossip. Not rumors. Just a damn good article about their team. About the things that mattered.

Guilt settled like a weight in his chest.

“I thought you said she quit writing?” Brock said, raising an eyebrow.

Matt swallowed hard. “I—” He didn’t know what to say. Because, apparently, you hadn’t quit. You had just quit him.

“Dude,” Rossi said, shaking his head. “You gotta fix this.”

Matt sat there, staring at your name on the screen, heart pounding.

Yeah. He did.

[thequeenofcurses]

Where You Left Me (part 2) wk: 1900

“We made it, lads!” Sora doesn’t look back at you or Sukuna when he reaches the gate first. “We're dead close to the camp, 'bout ten minutes away,” He lifts the bottom of the broken fence, slides his backpack through, and crawls in right after.

Sukuna scoffs. Of course, he’d rush in without even checking if we were alright. Asshole.

“You first,” Sukuna says, tilting his head toward the fence.

You crouch, lifting the fence and sliding your bag through. But as you glance back at him, you notice his sharp gaze darting across the shadows, his body taut like a coiled spring.

“I’m going to double back,” he mutters, eyes narrowing as he scans the path you came from. “Make sure we weren’t followed.”

Your head snaps toward him, panic clawing at your chest. “Alone? Are you insane? What if—”

“Relax,” he cuts you off with a dismissive wave, though his tone carries a surprising edge of calm. “I’ll be fine. I’m not some idiot who’ll trip and get myself eaten.”

You shake your head, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. “I should go with you. We’re supposed to watch each other’s backs, remember?”

Sukuna’s lips curve into a faint smirk, though there’s no humor in it. “And leave him alone?” He jerks his chin toward the gate where Sora had disappeared. “Bet he’d last all of five seconds before screaming his head off.”

You hesitate, torn between his logic and the unease twisting in your gut. The fence groans faintly under your grip, the sound too loud in the unsettling quiet. “Sukuna, please. Just—”

“Stop worrying so much,” he says, his voice softer now, though his eyes remain hard. “I’ll be back before you know it. “Stay put. Watch the fence. And don’t let that idiot do anything stupid.”

He doesn’t wait for your reply, turning on his heel and vanishing into the darkness before you can argue further. The cold air bites at your skin as you stare after him, unease settling like a heavy stone in your chest.

Your heart ached watching him leave. Memories filled your mind from when you first got paired with Sukuna.

The day you arrived you were covered in filth and blood that wasn’t your own. Your last partner sacrificed themself to get you here. As did every other person you’ve ever traveled with. It truly felt like the universe cursed you. No matter what group you joined up with, they always ended up dead, and you always ended up alone. 

You had hope that changed the moment you joined this current group. But alas, the universe had other plans in store for you.

“We have a buddy system in place here,” the leader, Hunter, explained to you. “So you’ll never have to be alone.” He gave you a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. The thought should’ve been a welcoming one, but your body tensed uncomfortably. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea…” you started. You probably should keep this to yourself, but the words spilled from your mouth. “People close to me always get bit or hurt somehow. I don’t want to get anyone here killed.”

Hunter took a step back at your confession. He patted your head and tried to sound hopeful. “Don’t worry, we’ve been surviving here for a long time. I’m sure we can find you a good buddy.”

It was four days later when a new survivor appeared at the entrance to the camp. He was a tall man wearing cargo pants, combat boots, a brown shirt, and a tattered red scarf. His hair looked drenched in sweat, or maybe that was dried blood. From what you could see his face had black tattoos that covered his temple down to his chin. They were sort of beautiful, amidst all his dirt and grime.

Hunter met the man and accepted him into the community once he realized the man could fight, help with scouting missions, or anything else necessary. Almost immediately, this man was assigned to you as your buddy. You wondered if it was because no one else wanted to risk being your partner or because this man could probably handle anything that came your way. It’s probably both.

You find out from Hunter that the new mysterious man is named Sukuna. He wasn’t much for talking, but that was fine. As long as he kept you both safe and alive, that was all you cared about. 

One thing Hunter forgot to mention was that buddy’s room together. Your small makeshift house in the camp – which was actually just a tent in the back of an abandoned grocery market. The tent was surprisingly spacious and could easily fit four to five people comfortably. Thankfully, there were enough tents to go around where everyone only had to share with one other person, aside from families with children. 

That night, you stay in your corner of the tent, while Sukuna lays on the opposite end, staring at the ceiling. Is this guy ever going to sleep? You don’t let your curious thoughts bother you and let sleep consume you.

The next morning, your body wakes you up at your usual time to get your typical duties done. You stretch silently, so as to not wake up your new roommate, then roll over. When you stand, your eyes notice that tattered red scarf in his hands. He must’ve fallen asleep holding it. You gently grab the laundry basket and gently pull on the scarf. Big mistake.

“What the fuck are you doing,” he spat. You stumbled backward in fear, not knowing he was awake.

Sukuna’s glare was sharp enough to cut through steel, his fingers tightening around the red fabric as if you’d tried to steal a piece of his soul.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to hold his gaze despite the chill creeping up your spine. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” you said carefully, keeping your voice steady. “It’s just… it looked important, and I thought you’d want it cleaned.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Just stared at you with those piercing crimson eyes, his grip still firm on the scarf. The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating.

Then, just as suddenly as his outburst came, Sukuna let out a slow, controlled breath and loosened his hold. “Tch.” He turned away, stuffing the scarf into his pack like it was something sacred. “Don’t touch my shit unless I tell you to.”

You nodded quickly, not wanting to push him further. “Got it.”

The tension still hung in the air, but you sensed something beneath his anger—something raw, unspoken. A wound, perhaps, tied to that ragged scarf. But asking about it now would only make things worse.

Instead, you picked up the laundry basket again, gripping it a little tighter than before. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Sukuna didn’t acknowledge you, just laid back down, one arm behind his head, eyes once again fixed on the tent’s ceiling.

As you stepped out, the morning sun barely peeking over the horizon, you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. The man you’d been paired with was a mystery—one wrapped in sharp edges and hidden scars.

But if you were going to survive together, you’d have to find a way to navigate them.

You returned later that morning, your arms aching from carrying the laundry back to camp. As you approached the tent, you hesitated at the entrance, unsure if Sukuna was still upset.

Pushing aside the flap, you found him sitting cross-legged, his red scarf now wrapped loosely around his neck. He didn’t look up, but his sharp voice cut through the air. “You always this nosy, or was I just lucky enough to get the curious one?”

You bit your lip, resisting the urge to snap back. “I told you I didn’t mean anything by it.”

This time, his gaze lifted to meet yours, and the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got guts. Most people wouldn’t stick around after pissing me off.”

“I don’t exactly have a choice, do I?” you shot back, surprising even yourself with your tone.

Sukuna tilted his head, clearly amused. “Fair enough.” He stood abruptly, the scarf shifting slightly as he stretched. “Come on.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“You and I are on patrol duty today,” he said, already heading toward the tent’s entrance. “Unless you’d rather stay here and babysit the camp.”

You groaned inwardly. Patrol duty was one of the most dangerous tasks—wandering the outskirts of camp, checking for any threats, zombie hordes, or looters. And now you were stuck doing it with him.

The trees around the camp loomed tall and dark, their skeletal branches casting jagged shadows on the dirt path. You kept your knife close, your eyes darting nervously between the underbrush.

Sukuna walked ahead of you, his long strides confident and unbothered. He held a machete in one hand, swinging it lazily at the tall grass as if the threat of the undead didn’t faze him.

“Do you always have to walk like you own the place?” you muttered, your nerves getting the better of you.

Sukuna glanced back over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Would you rather I skulk around like you? Might as well put up a sign that says ‘free meal.’”

You scowled. “I’m being cautious. You should try it sometime.”

He snorted. “Cautious doesn’t keep you alive out here. Being two steps ahead does.”

“Is that why you’re so... charming?” you shot back, gripping your knife tighter.

Sukuna stopped abruptly, turning to face you with a grin that sent a shiver down your spine. “Charming enough to still be here. Can’t say the same for the people you’ve lost.”

The words hit like a slap, and your breath caught. “You don’t know anything about that.”

“No,” he said, stepping closer, his expression darkening. “But I know the look of someone who’s been running from ghosts. How long are you gonna blame yourself before you realize this world doesn’t give a shit about your guilt?”

You stood frozen, his words cutting deep. But before you could respond, the sound of rustling bushes snapped both your attention to the side.

Sukuna raised his machete, his entire body tensing in a way that was almost predatory. “Stay behind me,” he ordered, his voice low and firm.

Your pulse quickened as the rustling grew louder. A shadow moved in the underbrush, and then—

A lone zombie staggered out, its hollow eyes locked onto you. Before you could react, Sukuna’s machete swung clean through its neck, the decayed head hitting the ground with a sickening thud.

“See?” he said, wiping the blade on the grass. “Cautious doesn’t get shit done.”

You glared at him, but deep down, you couldn’t deny the relief that washed over you.

“Let’s keep moving,” he said, his tone softer this time. “And try not to fall behind.”

You followed him silently, your grip on your knife tightening. Maybe Sukuna was right—this world didn’t care about your guilt. But that didn’t mean you were ready to let it go.

<- Part 1

A/N If anyone is confused lmk and I'll try to better explain, but the second half of this and onward (including the next parts) is a flashback. Sorry if that wasn't too clear T...T Also, I got so sad when Kuna's first words to y/n were so harsh. Like damn bro, chill 😭

tags: @infiresmanh6, @yeagersss, @moonchhu,

masterlist | jjk masterlist

[watarfallar]

*gay braincell tossing*

Scar: Do you have any idea what you’re doing? Grian: Why start now?

Grian: I love you. Scar: I love me too.

Grian: I literally cannot believe I let you talk me into this. Scar: I literally said “I have an idea,” and you just went along with it without question.

Scar: Snow got me feeling some type of way. Grian: That's hypothermia.  Scar: Damn, the paramedics told me it was the magic of Christmas.

Grian: Surgery is basically just stabbing someone to life. Scar: Please never become a surgeon.

Scar: *gets set on fire and screams in agony* Scar: Nah, I’m just kidding. Fire does nothing to me.

Scar: Damn, the power went out. Grian: Don’t worry, I got this. Grian: *stomps foot* Scar: What-? Grian: *Sketchers light up*

Grian: We either die free, or die trying! Scar: Are those the only choices?

Scar: I’m totally useless. Grian: You’re not totally useless. Grian: You can be used as a bad example.

Scar: Fellas, I gotta know for science. Is the opposite of red green or blue? Grian: Technically a mix of green and blue? Scar: So blurple. Grian: That's implying you're mixing blue and purple. Scar: Would you rather have fucking bleen? MOTHERFUCKING GRUE? Grian: You were confusing before but now I'm scared.

Scar: Why is it so hard for you to believe me?! Grian: ... Scar: Oh, right. The lying.

Grian: You’re not jealous, are you? Scar: No! Grian: Good, ‘cause I consider my fake relationship with you a lot more meaningful.

Scar: And what did we learn, Grian? Grian: Tackling someone isn’t the correct response to being asked a simple question.

Scar: You know, it’s fine to admit you were wrong. Grian: *Sipping their drink after accidentally adding salt* I just like the way it tastes.

Scar: You are a solid 11/10. Grian: Aw, thank- Scar: Which is 1.1 because you look like shit.

Scar: And have you learnt anything this Christmas, Grian? Grian: …Not really. Scar: Nothing? Grian: Tell you one thing I have learnt—Christmas; ultimately, commercial holiday. Who's the real winner at Christmas? Amazon. they have drones now! Tiny little dystopian slaves delivering iPads and headphones. I ordered a toaster; It was on the doorstep five hours later! Do we need that? It was 4.99! For a toaster! I mean, someone's being exploited there.

Grian: Kill him. Scar: This is the kind of quality advice I look for.

Scar: There are no friends when playing board games. I am here to win.

Grian, texting: Scar, will you please go to sleep? Scar, texting back: What makes you think you didn’t just wake me up? Grian, yelling: I CAN HEAR YOU CLAPPING TO THE FRIENDS THEME EVERY TWENTY MINUTES SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP! Grian, texting: Just a hunch :) You goin’ to sleep soon? Scar, texting: I’m trying Grian, yelling again: TRY HARDER I HAVE A 5:45 AM MEETING TOMORROW BITCH Grian, texting: Okay, don’t stay up too late or you’ll be cranky :)

Scar: I’m a masochist, not a loser.

Scar: Wow, that was quick thinking on that phony sacrifice stuff. Grian: Oh, that was all real. Scar: Wait, you were trying to help them kill us?! Grian: If I’m gonna be sacrificed, I’m gonna do it right.

Grian: *spins around in chair ominously* I’ve been expecting y- *chair continues to spin* shit *tries to stop spinning* shit *tries to grab a table to stop spinning* sHIT *falls out of chair*

Grian: I’m not stupid, you know. Scar: Well, you’re doing a really good impression of it!

Scar: Why do you think I don’t like you? I do. I would kill for you. Scar: Ask me to kill for you. Grian: ...First of all, calm down-

Scar: Grian, you’ve tried 37 times and you’ve failed every time. Give it a break. Grian: DO I HEAR “FIRST TRY PART 38?”

Grian: I know how this must look but I can assure you we have a perfectly logical explanation. Scar: Yeah! We’re cowards!

Scar: *holds a gun out to Grian* Grian: I-I don't believe in guns. Scar: Well, trust me, they're very real. Now take it.

Scar: I owe you one. Grian: That’s ok. You can just date me and we’ll call it even.

Grian: I hate you with every inch of my body! Scar: That’s not a lot of inches.

Scar, to Grian: You drink too much, swear too much, and your morals are highly questionable. Grian: … Scar: You are everything I’ve ever wanted in a best friend.

Scar: I need a long word. Grian: T-rex but the long one.

Grian: I see the red flags, I acknowledge that they're there, and then I completely ignore them.

Grian: You know you've made it when you see your picture everywhere you go. Scar: Those are wanted posters!

[the-offside-rule]

Steven Grant (Moonknight) - Quiet

Random stories of my own character and how she came to be avatar of Anubis and Set

Divine Intervention Series

Warnings: mentions of death, manipulation

The noise of London’s busy streets did little to distract Y/N from the constant whispers in her mind. Set, the Egyptian god of chaos and storms, had been relentless since Daniel’s betrayal; the same Daniel who sacrificed her to Set, binding her as his avatar. The irony stung as sharp as the betrayal itself. Daniel, her once-beloved boyfriend, had promised love and protection, only to hand her over to a god as an offering. Now, her mind was a battlefield, and Set’s cruel taunts were a constant reminder. "Even Daniel didn’t want you. He chose to die over you. Be grateful, little one. At least I made something of you." Y/N’s hands balled into fists in her pockets as she crossed the street. “Shut up.” She muttered under her breath. “You’re not helping.”

"Helping? You’d be nothing without me." Set hissed. "Remember that when you're staring into the abyss." And as if the universe had a twisted sense of humor, Anubis, the god of death and funerary rites, had also chosen her to be his host. His voice, though less cruel than Set’s, often spouted philosophical musings about life, death, and the purpose of suffering. Today, it grated on her nerves more than usual. "Death is inevitable, yet it frees us. Perhaps your grief is not meant to be overcome, but embrace." Anubis whispered, his tone always calm but distant. “Oh, that’s just great.” She muttered, shaking her head. “Now I’m getting a life lesson from a talking dog man-”

As the chaos in her mind swirled, Y/N found herself standing in front of the British Museum, the large banners advertising a new exhibition catching her eye: The Gods of Egypt. She paused, her breath catching slightly. Perhaps here, in this collection of ancient artifacts and legends, she could find some understanding of the two gods who had bound themselves to her soul. With a deep breath, she stepped inside. As soon as she entered, she bumped into a man with disheveled brown hair and an innocent, almost awkward smile. His accent was soft, endearing in a way that immediately made her feel a bit more at ease.

“Oh, sorry!” Y/N exclaimed, taking a step back. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.” The man smiled kindly, adjusting the tote bag slung over his shoulder. “No worries! Happens all the time around here.” He gave a slight, shy chuckle. “You here for the exhibit?” He asked. “Yeah.” Y/N replied, glancing toward the entrance of the exhibit. “Are you the tour guide?” His face lit up, then dimmed just as quickly. “Oh, no, no, I’m not. I, uh, I’d love to be, though. Really know my stuff when it comes to ancient Egypt, but, you know, my boss… she’s, uh, not too keen on the idea.” Y/N smiled softly, nodding. “Well, maybe one day she’ll come around. I’ll let you get back to it, but if I need any help, maybe I’ll come find you later.” The man, Steven Grant, smiled warmly, nodding. “Sure thing! I’m Steven, by the way. Steven Grant.”

“Y/N.” She replied, before offering a small wave and heading into the exhibit.

As she wandered through the halls, Set’s voice continued to grate at her nerves, criticizing the very essence of her existence, reminding her of Daniel’s betrayal, and insisting that she owed her life to him. Anubis, meanwhile, offered cryptic riddles about sacrifice and the balance of life and death. Her eyes landed on a series of hieroglyphics, their meanings escaping her despite her best efforts to focus. Her fingers traced the carvings, frustration building inside her. “You alright there?” Steven’s voice startled her from her thoughts. Y/N looked over to see him standing a few feet away, a concerned look on his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, but you seemed a bit lost.” He said, offering her a gentle smile. She sighed, rubbing her temples. “Yeah, just… these hieroglyphics. I don’t really understand them.”

Steven’s face lit up again, his enthusiasm palpable. “Oh! I can help with that.” He stepped closer, glancing over the inscriptions. “These talk about Set and Anubis, actually. Pretty fascinating stuff. Set, god of chaos, and Anubis, god of the afterlife. Quite a duo.” Y/N bit her lip, trying not to let the mention of the gods who haunted her daily life show on her face. “Yeah, fascinating.” She muttered. Steven’s enthusiasm didn’t waver. “They say Set could be quite manipulative, you know? Always out for power. And Anubis, well, he’s a bit more complex. He wasn’t just about death—he was about guiding souls, helping them find peace.”

Y/N blinked, surprised by how much Steven seemed to understand these ancient gods. In his presence, the oppressive weight of Set’s cruel words seemed to ease, and even Anubis’s constant musings faded into the background. “You seem to know a lot about them.” She said, genuinely curious. Steven blushed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I’ve always been fascinated by Egyptian mythology. Studied it for years. I suppose it’s my passion, really.” Y/N smiled for the first time in what felt like ages. “Well, it’s nice to meet someone who understands this stuff. Maybe I’ll ask you to help me with more of it.”

Steven’s reflection in a nearby glass display shifted ever so slightly. Behind him, Marc Spector’s face appeared for a moment, a teasing grin on his lips. “Seems like you’ve got a fan.” Marc quipped. Steven blinked, looking away quickly as if trying to avoid the reflection. But then another voice chimed in, more mischievous Jake Lockley. “Let me take over for a bit, güey.” Jake said, his tone dripping with charm. “She is exactly my type.” Steven shook his head, muttering under his breath, “Not a chance.”

Y/N didn’t notice his internal struggle, instead focusing on the relief of having a normal conversation for the first time in what felt like months. She didn’t know yet how much they had in common, or that Steven’s life was just as complicated and chaotic as her own. For now, she simply felt grateful to have found a friend in the darkness. As Steven offered her more insights into the exhibit, Y/N found herself relaxing, the voices of the gods quieting ever so slightly. Maybe, just maybe, things were looking up.

For now, she’d take the peace where she could find it. Even if it was fleeting.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Hii! Could you do Gojo + 65, please? But in a made me cry so much I’ll remember this for the next couple days way :)

There you go! This one took me quite a while and to be honest I'm not fully satisfied with how it turned out, but I really hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think 🖤

55. "I think I might be in love with you."

She is my weakness

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,7k

Synopsis: Even though Satoru never admitted his feelings towards you, everyone is aware of the fact that you are his weakness - a weakness that Suguru gladly uses in order to fullfill his mission. While you are on the brink of death, Satoru realizes just how much you really mean to him.

Warnings: language, hurt, death, injury

Gojo can’t catch his breath, the road to Jujutsu High suddenly feels so long. He got distracted, too distracted to notice that you aren’t there anymore. It wasn’t until someone informed him about the fact that you just disappeared, seconds later a message popping up on his phone.

Don’t worry, she’s with me. Maybe you should hurry up though.

You are a very skilled jujutsu sorcerer, an exceptional talent without special status. Satoru spent so many training sessions with you that he lost count, the only thing remaining in his memory being your mesmerizing smile.

“Why are you laughing? I’m absolutely serious, you almost got me!”

“Don’t be ridiculous Satoru, no need to pamper my feelings. Attack me instead!”

Fuck, how did he not notice that you’re gone? You’re always fighting by his side, trusting him blindly. He never allowed himself to lose track of you. Why today, when the name Suguru Geto is written on his display?

This doesn’t make any sense. It has to be a trap, Satoru just knows it. But still he’s on his way to Jujutsu High despite being urgently needed on the battlefront, hands slightly trembling. You are a great jujutsu sorcerer. But not good enough to face Suguru.

“Where is she?”, he yells, six eyes scanning the area around him in order to catch a glimpse of you or Suguru.

“Satoru, long time no see!”

“Where. Is. She.”, Gojo hisses through gritted teeth, blindfold ripped from his fury eyes.

“Woah, easy Satoru. Did you really just leave everyone else alone in order to save your little girlfriend from getting killed? That doesn’t look like you at all.”

“I make the world my enemy if it means saving her.”

You aren’t his girlfriend, the two of you never spoke about having a serious relationship with each other. He held you in his arms when you weren’t able to sleep, hands always brushing against each other when walking side by side, the two of you exchanging secret glances at each other all the time.

There’s no point in hiding it from himself any longer. Satoru is hopelessly in love with you since he first laid eyes on you and heard your angelic laugh. And the fact that Suguru put his dirty hands on you kills him from the inside.

“How touching. Too bad that she’s already dead. I have to say she fought very brave, tried to save your puny students from getting killed only to get stabbed herself. How self-sacrificing, how heroic.”

The world around Satoru collapses. You, dead? No, that’s not possible. Not even Suguru would dare to kill a skilled jujutsu sorcerer like yourself.

“Well, maybe she isn’t exactly dead already. I give you two options: Fight against me or save her. It’s up to you. See ya!”

And with that, he’s gone in the wind.

“Maki, Toge, Panda, Yuta, get out of the way. I’ll handle this.”

The confidence and rage in your voice had your students step aside immediately. You should have known that Suguru is here for Yuta, you should have realized it way sooner. There was no time or chance to inform Satoru about it. You gripped your katana tightly, eyes glistered in determination. You aren’t dumb, it is crystal clear that you aren’t able to defeat Suguru. But it is your job to defend your students, especially Yuta.

“Come on little (y/n), being Satoru’s girlfriend doesn’t make you the strongest. It doesn’t work like that. Both you and I know that this ends in blood.”

“I don’t need to be the strongest in order to distract you until he gets here.”

You fought back, over and over your blade crushed into another curse, you didn’t even stop when blood clouded your vision, whole body on fire from the countless wounds he has inflicted on you.

Is this really how you are supposed to die? Pictures of Satoru flooded your mind. You should have told him how you feel, that he makes your days better and your smile brighter. You noticed your feelings a long time ago, too afraid to lose a good friend by confessing. Now your words will forever be unsaid, he will never know how you truly felt. Your lips begin to tremble, eyes filling with tears.

“I’m sorry Satoru”, you whisper to yourself.

One last hit. A scorching pain. Then everything went black.

Satoru is aware of the fact that Suguru wants Yuta and nothing else, that you and the others have to be alive. Yuta can stand his ground until he has brought you to Shoko, back into safety. You simply can’t die without knowing about his true feelings, without knowing that you are way more than a simple friend to him and that he wants nothing more than to be by your side. If there’s a slight chance to safe you he’ll take it, fuck everything else. But firstly, he needs to find you and his students.

Maki’s and Toge’s bodies are plastered on the ground, seriously injured but alive – nothing that Shoko can’t fix. Sounds of battle begin to penetrate Gojo’s ears. So Yuta is still fit enough to stand against Suguru, huh? What an impressive kid.

His heart drops immediately when catching a glimpse of your body on the other side though. God, you are so covered in crimson that the color of your uniform is almost unrecognizable. Limb over limb, as if you just fell to the ground. Lifeless, drained, on the brink of death.

Satoru sprints towards you, ice cold sweat dripping down his face. He presses his fingers against your neck, praying to god that your heart is still beating, that there is a slight chance of you being saved by Shoko.

He has never seen you like this. Of course you were injured in missions from time to time, but the worst wound you ever had was a laceration on your forehead. No wonder, your fighting technique is very advanced after all, you spent so many hours training your ass off. But still…But still you are laying to his feet, Satoru’s shaky hands covered in your blood.

This simply can’t be true. He could never understand how Suguru could go down this path, Gojo’s last straw of his dignity being that he’d never hurt a jujutsu sorcerer or member of Jujutsu High. Why are you laying here, heartbeat almost gone and breath nothing more than a light breeze in the wind?

“Fuck!”, he yells, fists slamming into the hard ground until blood spills.

You can’t die like that, not after all the two of you have been through, not until he was able to at least tell you about his feelings.

“You might be the honored one, that doesn’t change the fact that pizza is better than burgers though. So sorry to break it to you, Satoru.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, (y/n)! Are you brainwashed? Maybe I should call Shoko, let me check!”

Your heartfelt laughter echoes through the room and Gojo’s core, hands halfheartedly fighting off his tickle attack. You are so beautiful when you shake in laughter, eyes squeezed tight until tears of joy spill out of them, your soft hands sending shivers down his spine.

“S-Satoru, please stop!”, you cry out and surrender in his arms.

Out of instinct you lay your head against his chest and close your eyes for a sweet moment. Oh, how delicious he smells, how much you love to be held like this. Your heart almost beats out of your chest when Satoru wraps his arms around you, pressing you even closer to his beating heart.

The words are hanging on his lips, it would be so easy to just tell you that he loves every little thing about you. Why does his mouth suddenly feel so fuzzy, why is all he can do stare at you in awe? Fuck, you are so lovely, he doesn’t deserve you.

“(y/n) I-… I think I might be in love with you!”, he blurts out, fists clinging onto your soaked uniform, tears glistering in his bright orbs.

If you will even survive the way to Shoko? He has to try. After all, he is the honored one. If he isn’t able to save you then no one will be? Fuck Suguru, fuck this whole useless battle. He can’t lose you today.

As gentle as possible, he picks you up in his arms, your lifeless head propped against his chest. Why does your body feel so cold? Why does the blood not stop running? Fright swallows Gojo completely, the thought of losing you getting realer and realer. Why were you here anyway? Maybe all of his student would have died if you weren’t so damn brave. You must have found out that Suguru is here. Fuck, why are you always caring about others and sacrifice yourself like that? Why didn’t you call him?

His hand caresses your face softly, tears now completely taking his sight. Because this is you, because this is exactly why he loves you so damn much.

It doesn’t take him long to get to Shoko, but it still feels like an eternity.

“Shoko, please help her!”, he yells over the constant conversations, voice completely immersed in pure horror.

Oh no, not you. Shoko pales in an instant when taking in your sight. This doesn’t look good, to be exact it looks absolutely terrible.

Satoru’s trembling arms lay you down on a makeshift sickbed, Shoko immediately by your side.

“How the hell did this happen? (y/n) is the only one apart from you that never gets hurt”, she comments while inspecting your multiple severe wounds.

“Suguru invaded Jujutsu High unnoticed despite the curtain. She must have found out. My students are there, (y/n) saved their asses from getting killed”, he explains briefly, gaze completely fixated on you and the way your chest dimly rises and falls.

“I’m gonna be honest to you, this looks totally awful. She is barely breathing and her heartbeat is way too weak. I’m trying my best but maybe…Maybe you should stay here with her, Satoru.”

It’s like the world around him is collapsing when Shoko’s words confirm his worst nightmares. You could die, right here right now. And you would die without knowing how much you really mean to him, that you are way more than just a colleague or a friend to him.

“I never told her”, he mutters, hands clinging onto yours for dear life.

“You don’t have to. Some things don’t need to be said.”

As if in trance, Gojo follows the movements of Shoko’s hands that are busy trying to save your life.

“What about the others?”

“Maki, Panda and Toge are injured but alive. Yuta is facing Suguru at the moment.

“Do you think he can handle this?”

“Sure, I’ll go back as soon as soon as (y/n) is out of danger.”

So there he sits. Seconds, minutes and hours passing by as all he can do is stare at you and watch Shoko stitching you up. You look like you’re sleeping peacefully, ready to get shaken awake by Satoru. He can’t help but stare and take in your striking features. Your face isn’t cute by any means. No, you are attractive in a more dangerous way, a woman that turns heads on the streets no matter what she wears. A woman that wraps men around her finger with one little glance. A woman that knows what she wants and how she gets it. You are treacherous and unattainable. There’s no greater feeling than seeing other men contort themselves after you as it is him that walks beside you, his arm wrapped around your shoulder.

“You know that I can take care of men myself, do you?”

“Sure, but I just can’t resist.”

Little did you know that he dies to hold you in his arms and show everyone that you are his, that none of these douchebags will ever touch you like he does. Oh, how much he enjoys your attention on him, if he could he would spend every second of the day with you.

“Good morning sunshine, the earth says hello!”

“Satoru, why do you have to wake me up this early? And even more important: How did you get in my room?”, you groaned, still a slight grin plastered on your face.

“Nothing easier than breaking in here! Did you forget we have a rendez-vous today, sleepyhead?”

“Yeah, for training. In 3 hours”, you reply dryly.

“Oh, must’ve forgotten about that.”

“Or maybe you just wanted to see me”, you teased him, your very own heart beating out of your chest while waiting for his reply.

“Can’t say anything against that”, he admits.

Now he can’t wake you up this easily. You’re still not moving, eyes staying rested at all times.

“Ironic, isn’t it? That I’m the strongest but couldn’t prevent her from getting this beaten up”, he mutters, drunken gaze never leaving you.

“Every power has its limits. Suguru just seemed to have a good plan on hand and knew that she’ll come as soon as the students are in danger. That’s just how (y/n) is. You cannot influence that”, Shoko replies, her skilled fingers completely occupied by working their ways through your countless wounds.

“It’s all my fault. Suguru knew she is my weakness and that I won’t come after him when her life is in danger.”

“Stop talking shit, if she could hear you she’d probably punch you in the face for that. (y/n) isn’t helped by doubting yourself.”

Satoru buries his face in his hands, tears swelling up his eyes once more. None of this should have happened. You should have called and told him about it. You should have told him that you are in danger. Why do you have to be so suborn, so fucking brave, probably saving his students from death while risking your own life? God, he hates you for this. But also…this is exactly why he adores you so much. No, why he loves you so much. Why do you have to be on the brink of death for him to realize that you are so much more than just a friend to him?

“Satoru?”

His name. His name came out of your mouth. Satoru’s heart feels like a jackhammer inside his chest, shaky fingers intertwining with yours. God, you opened your eyes, you talked. You…you are alive.

“(y/n)”, he breathes out.

“Suguru is at Jujutsu High.”

Your voice isn’t more than a fade whisper, eyelids hanging heavy in your blood-smeared face.

“I know, darling. I picked you up from there. If you scare me like that again I’ll kill you”, Satoru jokes with tears glistering in his eyes, smiling over your concern about the others even though you almost died yourself.

“Satoru…I-I love you. Couldn’t die without telling you that.”

His hand tenderly strokes your bruised cheek, relief filling his whole body, absolutely enchanted by your sweet words. You love him. You, (y/n) really love him. Is he dreaming? Can this really be true? For years, all he could think about was you, you are the only woman that turns his head. And now you’re telling him that you are in love with him?

“Let me hear that again.”

“I won’t say it again until you say it back”, you reply, smiling widely.

“I love you too, (y/n). Was just too dumb to realize I guess.”

“Listen, I don’t want to interrupt your moment here, but (y/n) needs to rest and you need to look after Yuta", intervenes, still occupied by treating your wounds.

“Did you leave your students alone with Suguru?”, you ask in shock.

“Hehe, you need to rest now.”

And with that you watch as the man you love more than the entire earth disappears with one last look in your eyes. He saved your life that day. But not only that, after all these years he is finally yours. Maybe almost dying wasn’t so bad after all.

[hapuchika]

The White Healer Chapter 6

Warnings: physical abuse, angst, little spicy content, jealousy.

author's notes: Two chapters in one day lets fucking gooooo

Series Masterlist

X--X--X--X--X

“How about this, I’ll share the memory with Nat and Piet” Wanda said. “We can tell you what we saw”

Everyone nodded in agreement. The people who opted not to see the memory directly watched as Wanda’s eyes glowed red, followed by Natasha, Pietro, and Y/n.

You closed your eyes and stayed like that for a few minutes. Everyone else held their breath as they watched the interaction. Suddenly Pietro, Wanda, and Natasha stood up. Steve shot up, about to walk to them when Pietro hurried to the nearest trash can and hurled. Wanda crumpled to the ground and started sobbing. Natasha stood up, breathing heavy and rushed out of the room. Clint immediately went after Natasha, Steve knelt beside Pietro and rubbed his back while Sam made his way to Wanda. Tony sat there in shock, as did Bruce. You hadn’t moved from your spot. You sat there, staring off into the distance as a single tear rolled down your cheek.

As Steve knelt beside Pietro, he noticed that Pietro, too, was crying. He decided he’d ask everyone later as now was not the time. Pietro kept crying and muttering something to himself, soon he zoomed out of the room.

Sam was getting worried, the sobs wracking Wanda’s body only seemed to get worse. Deciding nothing good would come of keeping her here he helped her up, expecting resistance but to his surprise Wanda stood up and ran out of the room herself.

That left you, Tony, Steve, Sam, Bruce, and Thor.

Unable to stay silent any longer, Tony stood up and pointed at you.

“You” he barked out. “Just what have you done to them?”

You paid no attention to what he said, you were completely lost in thought. Tony did not appreciate being ignored. He stomped to you, grabbing your collar.

“What did you do to them?” He shouted at you as he shook you.

“Tony that’s enough” Steve exclaimed.

“No, Steve. All we know is that they looked into her mind and completely lost their shit.”

Steve began to say something but stopped himself. He, too, was concerned at the display. Just what had those three seen? What had you done to warrant such a reaction? Was it really so heinous? Before he could think any further he heard Tony yell.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you” Tony snarled. 

Unable to tolerate your impassive expression he slapped you. Hard.

That seemed to bring you back, you stared at Tony. Tears freely falling from your eyes now.

Thor decided he had enough, he grabbed Tony and shoved him against the wall.

“You do not lay hands on her, Stark” Thor roared his eyes glowing a dangerous blue.

“Let him go Thor” Steve said firmly. He moved his gaze to Tony. “That was completely unacceptable. We don’t even know if it was her fault”

As Thor let go of Tony, Tony scoffed. “Great work both of you. She’s missing now. Congratulations”

Steve looked around to find out that you had, indeed, fled the room.

Clint followed Natasha rush to one of the many balconies. He watched her finally crumple against the wall now that no-one was there. She let out a sob as the tears started to flow. Sighing, Clint sat beside her as she turned to him and started sobbing harder. He gently stroked her back.

“What happened? I’ve never seen you react like this” Clint asked gently.

She continued to cry for a while. Her cry turned into sniffles, and when it finally stopped did she start talking.

“The stone.. it manipulated her.. she sacrificed herself to save her sister’s life but the stone chose her instead. Deciding to take her sister, without her consent.” She whispered, a few fresh tears made their way down her face.

Clint frowned, from what Tony had told him, the mind stone had some level of intelligence. But this.. this was pure cruelty.

“She was in pain, Clint” Nat whimpered. Gripping his t-shirt tightly. “She was in so much pain. I could feel it.”

The two stayed there for a little while until Natasha said she’d go freshen up and meet everyone back in the meeting room. 

Clint made his way back to the meeting room and faltered as he entered. There was a weird tension in the room. Thor was standing in the corner, glaring at Tony. Tony was facing a screen, looking at.. something. Steve was having a quiet discussion with Sam.

“Where is everyone else?” Clint asked the group.

Steve turned to look at Clint and answered. “Bruce went back to his lab for some research, Wanda and Pietro needed some time to themselves. Where’s Nat?”

“She needed some time to herself too” Clint replied. “Where’s y/n?”

“She ran away” Tony commented, continuing to stare at the screen.

Clint frowned “What do you mean she ran”

Tony huffed “She bolted, Legolas. It’s a pretty simple statement.”

“Did Nat tell you what happened?” Steve asked, desperate to change the topic.

Clint nodded “I’ll just wait for her to tell everyone directly.”

They waited for another ten minutes before Pietro, Wanda, and Natasha came in together.

At once Wanda asked “Where’s y/n?”

Steve, already dreading the conversation, said “She- um- left..”

Thor was tolerating none of this and merely scoffed.

“Do not lie Steve. She ran away after Stark hit her.” Thor rumbled, his glare focused on Tony.

Pin. Drop. Silence.

“… He did what” Wanda said, her eyes glowing as she took a step towards Tony.

She’d never liked him but this. She was going to tear this man apart. Before she could think about what to do with him Pietro appeared in front of her, putting his hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t focus on that idiot, sestra. Take Natasha and go find your girl.” He told her softly.

She snapped her head to her brother, eyes widening.

“You.. know?” She whispered, completely forgetting her anger towards Tony.

Pietro merely smirked.

“I’m well aware of your feelings towards y/n.” He said

“But I’m actually with-“

“Natasha. I know. You two aren’t as subtle as you think” He said smugly.

Wanda blushed a little. Her eyes shining. Her brother… accepted her..

She was about to hug him when she remembered where she was. Giving a grateful smile to her brother, she turned around and gently took Natasha’s hand, intertwining their fingers. Everyone’s eyes went to their hands. No-one dared to say anything. Clint merely smiled, glad his best friend finally found someone.

Natasha was having none of it. She hadn’t even noticed Wanda and Pietro’s interaction. No. She was glaring at Tony. How dare he raise a hand against you. She was going to kill him. She was going to make sure he lives the rest of his miserable life in regret-

A gentle squeeze brought her attention to Wanda. Right. Their priority was finding you. Everything else came second.

“Let’s go find her, malysh” Wanda whispered.

Nodding, the both of them hurried to the main gate. 

The moment they stepped out, Wanda’s eyes glowed red as she searched for your thoughts in the vicinity. It took a minute or so but she could faintly feel you.

“Found her. Nat do you trust me?” Wanda asked.

Natasha quickly nodded “Of course, detka”

Without prompt Wanda used her magic to lift the both of them off the ground, heading straight towards you.

They landed softly a few meters behind you. You were siting at the edge of a lake, staring off into the water. They slowly approached you, unsure of whether you’d heard them arrive.

“She used to love lakes..” You said softly.

Taking this as an invitation, they sat down on either side of you. Their hearts broke as they saw your tear-struck face.

“Any large body of water was her favourite” you continued. “The orphanage obviously didn’t have the funds to afford sending us to nice places. Public pools didn’t allow us in because we didn’t have guardians to accompany us. I’d take her to a lake or beach every single week during the summer.. she’d swim for hours even if she was all pruned up. I would have to drag her out of the water because she refused to leave despite violently sneezing.”

Wanda took your hand in hers, as did Natasha.

“She sounds amazing” Wanda said softly.

“She was.” You agreed. “She was the best”

After a brief pause you spoke again.

“I didn’t want this you know.. I didn’t want these powers.. or anything. I just- I just wanted my sister..”

Nat pulled you into her arms as you begin to cry softly.

“I know, malyshka. I’m so so sorry” she said into your hair.

Wanda hugged you from behind, effectively sandwiching you between the two of them. You felt yourself relax, something you always found yourself doing in their presence.

“Come back with us detka, please?” Wanda begged.

You pulled apart, frowning.

“Am I- am I allowed to? Tony was pretty upset-“

“That man” Nat seethes “can go eat a bag of dicks”

Your eyes widened, unable to help yourself you chuckled.

Wanda smiled a bit, remembering what Thor said her eyes flashed red in anger.

“I will kill him for hurting you” she swore.

You shook your head.

“It’s okay” you said, “he was just upset because I hurt you guys”

Wanda shook her head vehemently.

“You did not hurt us at all, devochka. It just broke our hearts to see the pain you went through” she said, caressing your knuckles.

“Besides, he did what he did because his egotistical asshole who throws temper tantrums because he thinks the world revolves around him” Natasha finished.

You giggled, causing them both to giggle with you.

“So..” Nat asked

“Will you come back with us?”

You tapped your chin with your finger, pretending to think. Natasha rolled her eyes, grabbed your hands and stood up. Laughing you stood up as well. The two looked at you in confusion as you began walking.

“Where are you going?” Wanda asked

Frowning, you just said “to the compound?”

Smirking Wanda grabbed you by the hips. Not missing the way your breath hitched. Natasha grinned as she looped her arm around Wanda’s hips.

“Ready?” Wanda asked

“For wha- OH MY GOD” You squealed as you were lifted off the ground by Wanda’s magic. The two women giggled as you clung tightly to Wanda, yelling how cool you found this.

When the three of you landed at the entrance of the compound, you were breathing heavily.

Making your way up to the kitchen you paused upon seeing Pietro standing looking worried, Steve and Tony were in a heated discussion. Upon your arrival, they all looked at you. Pietro was suddenly picking you up. You yelped.

“How can you, your sister, and Nat pick me up so easily? I’m heavy” You complained.

Pietro put you down and raised an eyebrow.

“They picked you up, huh?” He teased

Your ears burned as you realised what you had said. Sure they were your best friends but you had a feeling Pietro was well aware of your feelings for the two of them.

“Y/n” Steve called out as he stood up. “May I speak with you for a moment?”

Confused, you nodded and walked towards the kitchen island with him. He noticed Pietro standing nonchalantly within earshot. It warmed Steve’s heart to see how much those three seemed to care about you.

“What’s up” you said, still smiling at your previous interaction with Pietro.

“Pietro told us what happened. How you got your powers.” Steve said.

Your smile slowly faded. Unsure of where this conversation was going. Was he going to tell you that you weren’t allowed to be a part of the team anymore? You stopped yourself going down a spiral and paid attention to what he was saying.

“I’m so sorry for what happened to your sister. I can’t imagine the pain you must have gone through. I’d also like to formally apologise for how all of us reacted. We didn’t know what had transpired and it was wrong of us to jump to conclusions. I’d also like to apologise on behalf of Tony. What he did was completely out of line and I can assure you it won’t happen again.”

You sighed in relief as he finished. Quickly telling him how it’s completely understandable and you’d already forgiven them. You also told him you hadn’t run because of what Tony did but because you were overwhelmed with the memories that had surfaced. He nodded and once again apologised, hugging you briefly after the conversation ended.

Meanwhile, Tony decided to leave as he didn’t wasn’t in the mood to deal with you at the moment. He found himself completely frozen, unable to move. Looking down he saw slight red wisps covering his body. His eyes darted to Steve who was unfortunately completely absorbed with his conversation with you. Tony made eye contact with Pietro who just raised his eyebrow and proceeded to stare at Tony with a slight smirk. Gritting his teeth, Tony gave up trying to break free. Wanda and Natasha entered the room at that moment, heading straight for him. Tony’s eye’s glanced at the knife that was in Natasha’s hands as the two women stood in front of him. Trying to maintain his cool he glared at Wanda who just smirked at him, enjoying just how much he was freaking out. Natasha leaned towards him, knife resting against his thigh.

“The next time you even think about laying a finger on y/n. I will cut you open and feed you to some street cats.” Natasha said lowly. Every word dripping with carefully controlled rage.

“The sad part is” Wanda said softly. “Y/n would do anything and everything in her power to heal you from whatever we do. Because that’s the kind of person she is”

There was a hint of adoration in her voice that Tony obviously didn’t pick up on, but Natasha did. Her heart swelled with love as she hummed in agreement and stood up. The two of them walking away, extremely satisfied with the interaction.

The moment they left the kitchen, Tony found himself able to move again. Not waiting for a single moment he walked to his lab, thinking of ways to counter Wanda’s magic.

The next morning, some of the team were sitting at the dining table eating breakfast.

Thor had claimed he needed to consult his father about the appearance of 3 infinity stones, he promptly left after giving y/n a box of pop tarts.

Mid conversation, FRIDAY informed the team that Maria Hill will be arriving with mission briefing. To say you were beyond excited would be an understatement. It was your first mission ever. You were nervous about how you’d perform but everyone had repeatedly assured you that you weren’t required to take part in combat and were just there incase someone sustained an injury.

You were certainly caught off guard when Maria Hill entered the dining room. If you didn’t have feelings for your best friends, you absolutely would have attempted to woo this woman. Maria on the other hand had no such qualms.

“Well hello there beautiful” Maria flirted, staring you up and down.

You grinned “Hi there”

You didn’t notice the way Natasha’s jaw clenched at the interaction. Or how Wanda had stiffened, a burning sensation spreading through their chest.

“Mission debrief is in 15 minutes but if you’re free right now I can tell you about is seeing as it’s your first mission.” Maria said shamelessly.

You were about to reply when Natasha shot up. Pietro failing to hide his absolute shit eating grin.

“Actually, there’s something Wanda and I need to talk to y/n about.” Natasha said coldly.

Ignoring the urge to throw Maria out the window, Wanda got up in agreement and walked towards the door with Natasha. Wanda could hear only one loud thought going on in Natasha’s head. Mine. On repeat. Smirking, Wanda said nothing but stood there.

“Y/n” Natasha barked.

Raising your eyebrows you excused yourself and followed the two of them outside. 

As soon as the three of you were out of ear shot, Natasha shoved you against the wall. Hard. 

“Nat-“ Wanda began.

“No Wands. If Y/n wants to act like a whore then I will treat her like one.” Natasha seethed.

All rational thought had left her mind. 

Before Wanda could interject, in a swift movement you had moved and pinned Natasha against the wall, with your hand gripping her throat. Natasha let out a squeak in surprise. Never had anyone managed to do this to her.

Both Wanda and Natasha were caught completely off guard. They knew you could be confident and would tease them time and again. But this was different… this was.. hot.

“Just who do you think you are talking to?” You snarled right next to Natasha’s ear.

A shiver ran down Natasha’s spine. Her knees felt incredibly weak. Within a second, all the control she thought she had was gone out of the window.

Wanda’s eyes widened as she saw her girlfriend, the black widow, because a submissive heap within a second. She felt heat pool deep in her belly at the act.

Nat’s eyes fluttered shut and she let out a whimper the moment you nipped her ear.

You leaned back, letting go of her neck and watched her stumble for a second as she tried to regain her balance. Eyes wide, looking at you with a mix of shock and arousal.

“Bedroom” you commanded. “Now.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Nat started making her way to your bedroom. You and Wanda followed suit. 

“Are you okay with this?” You whispered in Wanda’s ear.

She vehemently nodded.

“I.. really liked that. I know Nat did too.” Wanda whispered back.

She decided to take a peak at what was going through your head and immediately turned completely red.

Natasha was absolutely fucked.

X--X--X--X--X

taglist: @marvelwomen-simp @nothanksbye07 @jono723 @luadyjcmd @alexawynters

[nouearth]

hope.

pairing ; peter parker x m!reader. fandom: ; marvel, spider-man. word count ; 1889. genre; angst. rating ; pg-13. warnings ; holland!spider-man, crying, break-up, kissing.

it was nearly midnight, and the stars were in full bloom, clustered yet distinctively separate. it was a familiar sight, but you lounged in the wake of the city—the sweet sound of sirens, the laughter of drunk passersby, and the smell of pollution—nonetheless.

it was brave of you to be hanging your arm over the ledge of the rooftop, but you received better signal this way. your face was lit up by the brightness of your phone screen as you were bent over the ledge, scrolling through your messages with peter, clearly displeased.

still on tonight?

you stopped your thumb on the screen, muttering peter’s messages from a few hours ago.

bringing pizza! new place just opened up.

you can’t lie to yourself anymore: you and peter have been drifting apart. dates have slowly come to a halt ever since peter confessed to you about his dual life as spider-man. and when they do happen, he was late—out of breath and disheveled, and occasionally bruised—though he’d brush the latter off with a laugh.

i just need to ice it! don’t worry.

guilt would overcome you as you would silently analyze his condition on one of those dates. you would notice his dark circles: a clear indication of sleep-deprivation. his tensed face when he moved: a torn muscle he refused to check up on. his constant attention anywhere else but you: a search to help.

and they’ve only gotten worse.

but you never complained or berated him because in the end, it was peter who was sacrificing a portion of his heroic life for you, doing everything he possibly could to please you—because your relationship was hanging by a string of web at this point, almost tearing, and you both knew it.

a frustrated groan came out of you and you stashed your phone away to turn to the comfort of watching the dark alleyway beneath you, only to be met with peter in his uniform, spider-man mask and all, staring right up at you, sprawled over the side of the building. “jesus- peter!”

“you really didn’t notice me?” you heard his laugh, muffled by the mask as he skillfully traversed upwards until he reached the ledge and hopped onto his feet later, sliding off his backpack that’s been harboring the pizza box—if you can call it pizza anymore once he opened the box.

“no! you wouldn’t exactly be a great hero if you didn’t know how to stealth properly.” the pizza was a squished mess. the cheese hardened to the top of the box and the toppings were scrambled from corner to corner, collective evidence of peter’s hasty journey to your date spot.

“shit- y/n, i’m so sorry-“ he said apologetically, mask off, and his body and face tensed as he began to sit on the ground with the pizza box still in his hands. you join his side.

“pete, it’s fine! pizza’s a finger-food anyways, y’know?” you laughed to appease his guilt, compensating with a kiss to his lips and a side-hug, but you pulled away after when he groaned—a new pain in his shoulder. he doesn’t like talking about his injuries for your sake, and so you don’t, even if you felt like an asshole for not asking anyways.

“come on, let’s eat. i know you’re hungry.” you sang the words to brighten the mood—it doesn’t. 

“yeah.” dry and un-humored at first, but peter made sure to return your kiss and a smile, albeit a rueful tuck of his lips, before picking a cold slice and eating. you followed, cautious of the sudden change of atmosphere.

both of you were silent, but your eyes were still on him while peter’s was fixated towards the concrete, thoughtlessly eating. it wasn’t new to see peter quiet, which at first seemed impossible considering how talkative he usually was. but when he was, he was either deep in thought or wasn’t thinking at all. maybe a combination of both because then, he stopped chewing. instead of inhaling his second slice of pizza, he exhaled a sigh—one that harbored thoughts and tension.

“what?” you avoided his eyes because you can feel it coming, mindlessly picking at the hard and crusty cheese off the cardboard box—mainly to calm the swelling in your chest that has begun.

“you know i love you, right?” peter said quietly and from the corner of his eyes, he was looking at you again.

“you do? don’t recall you ever telling me that before…” it’s another joke to cheer him up—to cheer you up—and you looked at him with a smile, a meager masquerade. “i love you too, pete.”

he reached for your hand to hold onto, intertwining his calloused fingers with yours. you could tell he was bracing you for the inevitable news, so you gave his palm the gentlest squeeze, collapsing your warmth into his own—because you’re ready.

“and,” peter spoke again, this time tears appeared in his eyes. “you know i’d do anything for you, right?”

“y-yeah, of course…” you swallowed the hard lump in your throat that continued to swell nonetheless, controlling yourself from gripping peter’s hand harder. “you’ve... been the best. you’ve done so much for me and-“

“no, I haven’t, y/n.” he looked forward again, shaking his head in disbelief. the sour taste of tomato sauce quickly became bitter when he took a bite of pizza, pushing down the welling tears. “we barely see each other anymore because of me.”

“peter… yes, you have. i mean, you’re not perfect, but who is? i’m certainly not, right? no relationship is perfect.”

the cold breeze of the night sang in response and you two naturally moved closer to each other for warmth.

“i’m not perfect. as far as i can tell, you’re doing way better than me.” you followed up on the silence, continuing as you pulled peter’s head to your shoulder and kissed his forehead. “you make me sandwiches for work, because you know i have no time to eat. you check up on me to make sure i’m safe, and because you know I’m probably close to losing it at my boss…”

“and you’re late to our dates- always late. but you still come, because that’s our only time together now.” you’re unsure whose heart was beating faster—harder—but you were close to breaking because you want to be selfish. a part of you wants to keep peter to yourself for as long as possible, but you also want the best for him, even if it meant separation.

“and you’re always… hurt or injured somewhere. you laugh it off, but i can tell you’re in pain.”

“i’m okay. i told you not to worry-”

you cut him off with another kiss, but to his lips, softly muttering after. “sometimes, you fall asleep when i’m telling you about my day, when we’re watching movies, or even when we’re eating dinner… and i should be mad or annoyed at you, but I’m just…” you trailed off to take a breather and you can feel peter’s hand stroking your back, comforting you—when you should really be comforting him. “I feel so bad, peter.”

peter took your woeful confession to his lips, kissing you sweet and gentle because he knew that would calm the both of you down, but you were stiff. he was an indecisive person and you knew he had run back on his decision to break up with you. it was telling from the moment he held you in his arms, impossibly close, as if you were the one running.

“we can work things out.” he whispered against your lips and your sigh met his. it was frustrating to watch peter constantly put friends, families, and you over himself, all at the expense of his own happiness. “i-i can work less hours and… and… i’ll stop being spider-man- yeah… that’ll work! there’s so many of us—superheroes—now, so i don’t think it’ll affect-“

“peter…” you watched peter wander in circles, a clear shift in mood by the simplicity of false hope. by now, peter’s in his own world—a perfect paradise that consisted of you and him, and nothing else.

no worries, nothing.

“and… shoot! we can move in together, yeah? my place is a little small, but it’ll work out. we’ll sleep in my bed, share groceries, the bills… god, why didn’t i think of this sooner?!”

your heart raced even faster the longer you watched peter convince himself of a perfect scenario that was bound to happen.

i love you so much.

“peter, we can’t-“

“what- why?” he approached you, cooling down from the fleeting thought of ‘paradise’. “I don’t know how we haven’t thought of this, but it seems like the best option, yeah?

“i-peter…” you sighed, grabbing his hands to hold again and stared affectionately into his eyes. “i want to… so bad. and the thought of living together… i would love to.”

“yeah? i can get started on cleaning and-“

“peter.” your lips pressed to his to shush his rambles, even though you loved seeing him so passionate about everything, and you cupped his cheeks after. you take a moment to admire the way his eyes brightened when you finally smiled, and that makes it all the more painful.

he loves you.

“it wouldn’t be right of me to have you prioritize me over anything else in your life.”

“but you are my priority, y/n.” he half-smiled, resting his hands over yours. there was still hope in his eyes, gleaming.

“i’m not your only priority, peter.” you said, caressing his tear-stained cheeks.

“but-“

“you have to take care of yourself first, peter. you’ve done more for me than anyone else in the world, but you’re on the verge of breaking anytime now. and it’s sweet and all, that you would sacrifice everything for me. but i can’t let you do this, peter. i don’t control- i shouldn't control your life. what kind of boyfriend would i be, hm?”

my sweet peter.

“no, come on- let’s just talk about this. i- we can figure out another plan, yeah? how about i work part-time where you’re at? serving tables will be a piece of cake and-“ his voice cracked, desperate to convince you with different possibilities, but he stopped and stared at you with utter defeat, his eyes blood-shot red.

you shut your eyes tight, inhaling in the panic of peter’s voice, and exhaling with brewing tears. “i’m breaking up with you.”

your eyes opened to peter’s back towards you; he’s perched over the ledge. you approached from behind and for a moment, you could see the tension in his body and face leaving; a massive weight—a burden you’d call yourself—lifting off his shoulders as he watched the city. it was calmer now, safer than it has been in years, ever since the first introduction of spider-man.

“will we still be friends?” peter spoke up after a long silence, his gaze fixated on the flashing lights of a nearby ambulance passing by, blaring its siren. his face tensed up again, jaw hardening and eyes lit up with fire as he put on his signature mask.

and you confirm to yourself that peter’s ideal world was simply a construction of hope.

“always.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works.