#Not working hours isn’t good for many reasons but it means I can barely help ppl out bc I literally don’t know what we sell

[filmcel]

The anxiety+ work combo is gonna kill me. I wasn’t born to worry every day about my managers hating me bc theyre all kind of bitches. I was born to be faggy and draw and watch movies!!!!>_<

[lovrsm]

“ꜱʟᴜᴛ!”

sum: Ferraris golden boy moves over to RedBull Racing Team.

Daughter of the CEO of Red Bull, you’ve grown to love racing, and in the way making new friends. Even if you felt like your world was falling apart, even when you denied it, he was the only one you needed. And there was absolutely nothing that could change his mind about your beautiful self, the way he loves you.

word count:idk, prb 2k

pairing: rb!charles leclerc x horner!reader

warnings: name calling, alcohol, smut f! receiving, first time writing real horny shit!

a/n: sorry for the long intro, I swear it’s worth it😔✋ LOOOL, I WROTE THIS LIKE A YEAR AGOO, and I rlly wanted to clear up my drafts but this is too good to not come out. Yet idk if I have any mistakes, if I do let me know!! Also, checo acting as a dad (#IloveCheco)

Spotify - Apple Music

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

“and I break down, then he’s pullin’ me in In a world of boys, he’s a gentleman”

Clink, clink, that’s what our champagne glasses sounded like together.

“Congratulations, what a wonderful year. It’s been a pleasure being with all of you.” Sergio, Checo Perez, made a brief goodbye to your team.

He was leaving Red Bull. Everyone here loved him, and loves him, including yourself. He became quickly your family after seeing him every day for more than 3 years.

“We will miss you” your dad palms his back, making Checo break a smile.

“It isn’t the end yet, you know that boss.” He laughed.

His reasons? Family, everything for him, he couldn’t bare leaving them anymore alone, so he decided after, several years, to leave formula 1. After helping Max to win his championships, he is a fucking legend.

“Well, I won’t leave you alone, I will still drag you everywhere, you know? Even after you leave.” Max and Checo have developed a very special bond, even if social media said otherwise.

“We, wont leave you alone, you still owe me those therapy sessions” I winked at him, he became a very big emotional support for me, believe it or not, he’s got some great advice to give.

“Lovely dinner” I took a picture of all of us with my camera, a goodbye dinner for Checo, and tomorrow, all of the world would see this on the newspaper.

-

“I really don’t know what to do, do you know how many drivers have reached us out in the last 2 hours? I mean, I have a few options but they keep giving me more reasons and… I just don’t know.” My dad was stressed, typing in his computer as if his life depended on it.

“It’s going to be alright, okey? You don’t necessarily need to worry about it right now, we still have a championship to win, you know?” I gave him a cup of tea, just so he could relax a bit.

When something is about work, everything else doesn’t matter. At all.

“We’ll watch your options, alright? I can help you with anything you want” I smiled at him.

“When did you became such a great business woman?”

“You’re my father, of course I’m hardworking.”

-

“Red Bull did it again, Max Verstappen and Sergio Perez, world champion and sub-champion!”

Screams from Max and Checo blasted my ears, P1 and P2, again. Absolutely no mistakes. The internet going crazy. And somehow it all became quiet.

“Who will get that Red Bull seat next year? Will he be a fit to Sergio Perez place?”

Everyone went outside to celebrate, while I stayed so I could hear the TV and media.

what do people want?

“Ferrari didn’t have a great year, let’s hope they both get a better car”

“I agree! Great drivers, such a shame Ferrari has been getting worse every year. What a waste of talent.” The other interviewer said.

Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz appeared in the screen. Both with an obvious forced smile plastered in their faces.

Charles, my secret crush ever since… forever. Was I obvious? Not a single soul knew, well, except him.

-

Charles Leclerc signed in RedBull that was the only thing appearing on my feed right now . Red bull? Bullshit, you mean? What kind of a big lie is that?

Internet was filled with Charles leaving Ferrari for RedBull.

In what twisted universe does that even happen?

I later learned, I am living in that twisted world, and I discovered the great news in social media, and not my own team.

“What do you mean Charles Leclerc, dad? Why wasn’t I even informed about this. Wait, hold on, when did it even crossed your mind?!” I was dignified.

Following around the kitchen.

“I didn’t have to, oh, I do think I need to tell you this, he’s coming to dinner tonight so wear something nice.”

Wear something nice.

Thanks dad, as always, you’re so, so great.

Night time came sooner than expected, if my dad hosts a dinner, even if there’s a million, or just one person coming over, he likes to be extra.

-

Almost time, 8:00 and it is 7:50, all that was missing was the dress. It was placed on my bed. Showing all of it’s beauty.

Navy blue, our color. It was my dream dress.

Light, silky and fancy dress.

I walked downstairs, watching people running and arranging everything, doing just the final touches.

I’ve come to learn, that people arrive late, or just in time. Never earlier.

“Ah, what a beautiful young woman I have here!” Geri, my father’s wife came to greet me.

“You look amazing, I knew that dress would be perfect for you!”

“Geri, you are amazing, seriously. Thank you, and look at you! We both look gorgeous.” I smiled at her and we linked arms, she and I were walking towards the garden, where would be the dinner.

Some big, round, wooden tables were set in the middle. Each seat would have a name, decorated with a white flower in the middle of the plate.

It was easy to find my place. I was at the biggest one of all, where the most important people of this night would be seated.

Lucky for me, his name was right next to my plate.

In a matter of seconds, people started to arrive, old friends, and new faces passed through those doors.

This will be a great night.

“Funny to find you here, it’s been some time since I last saw you…” I rolled my eyes, I (sadly) recognized that voice anywhere.

“Go away Mike.” I grabbed my wine glass and took a big sip out of it. “C’mon princess, where are your manners?” He got too close to me.

“Hey y/n! Your dad was looking for you, like right now.” Max Verstappen here to save my day.

“Oooh that’s unfortunate, I’m so so so sorry Mike, hope to see you later!” I waved him off and quickly moved towards Max who then friendly linked his arm with mine.

“I owe you one.” I sighed. “You owe me much more than 1, little one.” I laughed at him.

We got close to my father, who now had a microphone at his hand.

“Hello everyone, thank you for coming here and be with us tonight. A toast for Checo here!” He announced and a light was shining on Checo, standing from his seat.

“It has been a wonderful year, sadly it has to end. And I know I’m not the first to tell you that an incredible young talent will be joining us for next season.”

There he was. Navy suit with our logo on him. His hair was messy yet perfectly placed. He showed his dimples and I’m sure I heard someone behind me moan at his sight.

My heart rate was increasing slowly but surely.

“y/n, you’re going to squeeze all my blood from my arm. Stop.” Max whispered in my ear.

Shit. I basically dug my nails into his arm due to my tiny crush.

“Yeah, It’s amazing to know that I’m to race with RedBull next year. I hope we can achieve everything we’ve dreamed of. Looking forward to race with my lifetime partner, Max here.”

Now the light was on Max and me. I discreetly let go of max so that he could have the spotlight. As Max waved I looked back at Charles.

The dimples in his face showed even more, he was looking at me too.

“I can’t wait to work with these wonderful people, and I hope we have a great year to remember, thank you and enjoy this night!” He raised his glass and so did all.

“Well, I hope we don’t have any inchidents” Max laughed at his own joke. Dad joke I must say.

“Well If you don’t push me off the track I think we’ll be just fine” his voice gave me chills. I felt his chest on my back.

I wasn’t strong enough to turn around.

“Oh, shoot, you hear that? I think P is calling me!”

“No, Max-” I tried to stop him.

Around Charles, I barely have control over myself.

“Uh-huh, yeah that’s P, she wants to go to the bathroom, and she needs food, ok have a great night bye!” He rushed to god knows where.

“You really don’t want to be with me, do you?” He whispered on my ear. Feeling the heat of his breath.

“Why wouldn’t I? You are such a lovely company, mr Leclerc.” I gathered the strength and turned around, and his beautiful green eyes shined at me, making me blush.

“Look at you, could you get any more beautiful?”

He lowered so he could whisper again. “I’ve missed you” I looked around real quick, thankfully Max took everyone’s attention on the other side of the place.

“Not here, Charles.” I whimpered.

“Yes here, I can finally be with you, do you think I would waste any more time pretending to not love you? If you do, let me tell you, you are completely wrong.”

He kept whispering, his hands slowly finding his way to my hips. And mine to his collarbone.

“It’s not even 9pm, Leclerc, this party hasn’t even started” I fighted against my own will to drag him upstairs.

“You know I’ll wait, just for you.” He winked at me, before slowly letting me go and walking away.

“You’re not coming, mon coeur?” Charles turned around to look at me. “If you insist.” I happily walked by his side.

We walked and talked for a few minutes before Mike magically appeared before us.

“Oh not even 5 seconds and you are already like a slut with the new driver” He looked at me with a disgusted face.

“Excuse her? Don’t tall to her like that. Do we even know you?” Charles used a very cold tone on him. And Mike started to stumble on his word.

“Uhm, no, she does, like I was something to her-”

“Was, that’s a key word, pal. Don’t you ever talk to her, no, don’t you ever talk to any woman that way do you understand?”

Now, I can defend myself just fine, but that right there soaked my pants in an unexplainable way.

“Get out of our sight, man.” And he crawled away.

“That was hot.” I whispered and he blushed. “Your mother did raise a gentleman.” I smiled at him and he gave me a cheek kiss.

-

Lost on the moonlit pool, drinking my… 11th (?) glass of wine at 1 in the morning while everyone was still dancing, was weird.

My feet swinging as I drink the last drop of my glass.

I went on a side quest myself just to get distracted for a bit. All the noise was going to hurt my ears if I stayed any longer.

“Here you are, you got lost?” He sat down at my side. Didn’t have to look, his thick accent gave him away immediately.

I took a long breath and rested my head on his shoulder . “Yes, Charles, I’m going to get lost in my own house.” I felt him move beside me. He then had his feet in the pool, just as I did.

I smiled to myself.

“Has anyone told you just how beautiful you look today?”

“You have, more than once.”

“I couldn’t let that slip, you do look beautiful with that dress. It suits you just perfectly.”

He paused.

“But I bet you’d look much better without it.”

I nervously chuckled at his comment.

“You haven’t talked to me in ages, you came back being a driver for my father, and now you want to have sex? Why don’t you already make me your wife?!” I dramatically fell into his arms

“Ages? I talked to you last week!” He showed his teeth to me in a smile. “That was a long time ago! Besides, you never told me about you and RedBull.” I sit straight up again.

“I needed your dad to love me one way or another. How else am I going to get him to approve of our marriage?” He joked.

“You are unbelievable Leclerc.” I stood up, and grabbed my high-heels on my hand, walking back to the party barefoot.

I surrounded part of the pool, my dad wanted to add a bar right beside it, and it was freshly cemented.

He quickly copied my moves, but instead, he went on a straight line to me, and in a step he covered his feet in cement, falling down and thankfully placing his hands before getting worse.

“Shit!” I ran back to help him. I stupidly placed my hand in the cement, the other helping Charles to get up.

“Look, we made a masterpiece! Your handprints and mine in wet cement.”

“And your feet.” I laughed

“And my feet… I really need to wash this off before it gets dry.” I grabbed his hand and he followed my lead.

If my dad sees that I’m getting his new driver to my room…

We rushed through the multitude of people on the garden.

“Ooh we’re going to your bedroom, can’t remember what happened last time there…” he whispered shouted as we were running up the stairs.

I jokingly rolled my eyes at him. We were giggling like children. He kept making dirty jokes and as much as I tried to control myself I’d end up giggling much more.

We got there quicker than I thought. With my clean hand I closed the door and he was already in my bathroom washing his hands, and feet with water. I ran to his side and did the same with my left hand.

“I’m done” I announced and got out of the bathroom. Deciding to do a touch up for my makeup, thankfully nothing was much out of place, but my lipstick faded.

I slowly applied it looking in the mirror, and through it I saw a curious Charles looking at me. “Why do you even apply lipstick?” He slowly walked towards me.

I took my sweet time spreading the color on my lips.

“Cause we are going back, party is not over.”

“But we don’t need to.” He grabbed me by the waist and turned me around to look at him and he swiftly placed me on the desk. A smirk plastered on his face, as he slowly got on his knees.

“Charles…”

He got to his knees, not breaking eye contact with me.

“You know that if you say no, I won’t do anything. But I’m not hearing those words, am I?” He lifted my dress planted wet kisses on my inner thighs, getting closer to my sweet spot. “You’re so fucking wet”.

“They will know we’re gone” I nervously whispered. He looked into my eyes and stopped, his hot breath making me squirm. “That isn’t a no.” He stood his ground.

And I’m not saying “do it anyway”, but we both know he is going to.

I didn’t even have a chance to think about the cons, his tongue was already doing its job.My legs were closing due to the pleasure, but his strong arms kept them wide open while he drew circles with his thumbs.

“Charles…” he hummed in response, sending me shivers all the way up. He kept licking my folds and as I looked down, he had his shiny green eyes looking at me. A hint of darkness in them that made me moan just at sight.

His head between my legs was surely what heaven looked like.

I curved my back and my hand gripping his hair so he could get closer. He groaned and sucked even harder.

“Fuck, you’re such a good boy, I missed this.” His hand moved quickly into me, curling his two fingers finding my g spot. “Fuck, Charles!” I screamed his name while cumming all over him, his tongue taking all off of me, as he rose without slowly moving his fingers again. My hips rocking back and forth as he arose, keeping his hand busy. “Too bad that pretty mouth of yours can’t do much right now. I really would love to feel it sucking my dick.” I hummed imagining it and getting even closer to my second climax.

“I'll take care of you, just so my princess can remember who she belongs with.” His lips were on my neck, whispering sweet nothing between kisses and soft biting. My moans filled the whole room along with the sound of his fingers working on her center.

Charles, Charles, Charles…

Each time his name left your mouth his cock got even harder, to the point where it hurt. In a short motion his pants down and without any warning he thrusted into you. You both let out a pornographic scream. If the music wasn’t loud everyone would have heard you two. The sound of your slaps were evident, heat rising, the feeling of his beard in your neck was all too much. Curses along with moans were the only thing louder. He did a final thrust and immediately pulled out, jerking off and finishing in his hand.

“You just washed your hands.” I joked breathlessly, he messed up with my head real bad. “Couldn’t resist” he smiled, gave me a peck and disappeared into the bathroom. I melted on that spot.

“Come on mon coeur.” What I loved about Charles was that he always cared. we got into the bathroom and I washed my hands, in the reflection of the mirror his eyes were already in mine.

“What?” I asked as the blood rushed into my cheeks. “Nothing.” He gently smiled, and his eyes shined to me in a different shade of green.

-

Taglist

@delicatepeanutsublime @ironspdy @architect-2015 @buendiabebeta @dreamergirlatpaddock @lercvlie

[deantfwinchester]

Hands

Pairing: No-Outbreak!AU, Joel x Teacher!Reader as usual (let's just assume these No-Outbreak Joels are all the same couple tbh), established relationship

Summary: Friday nights are reserved for sweatpants and relaxation, of course. But when Joel's work week leaves his hands a bit worse for wear, the night may need to include a break for a little extra attention.

Warnings: extreme fluff once again. expect it at this point. i'm a one-trick pony, i fear.

A/N: finally got around to putting one of my many bulleted notes-app idea fics into paragraph form again! Will we get another one before the year's out? It's anyone's guess! -_-

——————

Friday nights are your favorites. No dinner to cook or rattling rolodex of tasks to come in the next twelve hours give you both a little room to breathe — to gently unwind from yourselves and into one another. It’s typically quiet, and when it isn’t, the volume is born of laughter from games or stories the three of you share.

Joel comes home from an exceptionally long week. You know he’s been on site every day—the whole team has—working longer and longer hours to wrap up the latest project before the client’s deadline. You’re pleased to hear his keys rattle in the door not long after five o’clock, and relieved because the air’s rapidly cooling earlier each night. Daylight Savings time is coming to an end, and today he barely beat the sunset getting home. 

You know the hour means little, however, and are less than astonished at the weary grin he bears on catching sight of you and Sarah on the couch when he walks in the room. She’s already got her purse on her shoulder, eager to head out when her friends arrive, and she’s excitedly recounting the events of the trailer for the movie they’ll be catching tonight. He stands idly in the doorway for a moment, just listening to the two of you chat. You make brief eye contact and smile back, assuring you know he’s there. Neither of you wants to interrupt her avid storytelling.  

“Well don’t you sound excited?” he says when she pauses to catch her breath. You both turn to greet him, and he moves more quickly toward you as you attempt to rise, gesturing to you to remain seated. He’ll come to you both.

He plants a kiss on top of Sarah’s head before leaning down to kiss you as he does each night. You place a hand on his chest and pause when he pulls back to get a good look at his face. You see the fatigue in his droopy-eyed smile, but can’t say anything to him. You already know it’s mirrored in your own expression.

The doorbell rings before either of you can speak again, and Sarah jumps up to head out the door. You wish her a good night, and he follows her to the door, checking for a familiar parent in the driver’s seat and seeing her off. You see him hand her some cash to go with his reminder to make good decisions, and he hugs her. You can’t help but giggle when she takes it with a wide smile.

He turns to you laughing when he sees she’s in the car, and shuts the door.

“What?” he asks, brow furrowed in confusion, but amused at the sound of your laughter.

“Smart girl. I gave her a 20 before you got home,” you grin back at him. He stills in understanding and rolls his eyes. 

“You couldn’t tell me that two minutes ago?” he asks you in mock exasperation.

“But it’s so much funnier this way!” you add, giggling again. You both know he’s wrapped completely around her finger, though she so innocently does not. It’s one of the first things you noticed about him. One of the first reasons you fell in love. 

He shakes his head fondly, and places a hand on his stomach, which begins to grumble softly at him. You raise your eyebrows and meet his gaze. “Any thoughts on dinner?” he asks, and you grin back at him in amusement.

“Handled. Pizza’s already on the way,” you respond and he feigns relief. 

“You’re brilliant.” he says, walking up and grabbing your hand on the back of the couch. You run your thumb in little circles on the back of his hand and give it a light squeeze.

“Duh. Now go get changed! It’s do-nothing time starting now,” you respond, patting the top of his hand in encouragement.

“You read my mind,” he says, leaning down for another quick peck before heading off into the bedroom to change out of his work clothes. Naturally, you’ve been in sweats for over an hour now, shedding your own outfit immediately, peeling the school day from your skin. The unspoken uniform for these Friday nights is extremely specific.

The pizza arrives before Joel can even return from the bedroom in a feat of incredible timing. You’re gathering plates and filling glasses with ice when he emerges ready for the night. He moves forward to help you grab the dinner, but you shoo him away to the couch. 

“Nope, I got this. You sit,” you say, lightly shoving his chest away. You leave no room for argument. He grumbles a bit and raises his hands, backing away to the living room. You follow behind him with the pizza and plates, and return once more for the drinks before settling next to him on the couch. He sits on one end, and you sit in the middle, leaving little room between you.

You lean forward, putting pizza on one plate you pass to Joel before grabbing your own, then settle back against the cushion, both sinking in so comfortably a nearly audible sigh fills the room. The comfort in this relief is palpable, and the decompressing can begin. You grab the remote and put on the series you’ve been binging together recently, more for background noise than anything else. 

A few slices and sitcom episodes deep, you’ve set your plates down on the coffee table. With your bellies comfortably full, you’ve somehow slumped deeper, though Joel into the couch and you into his side. His arm is draped over the back of the couch behind you, and you’re nearly laying on him, head propped against his shoulder. 

You hold his free hand in both of yours and absently play with his fingers for a second when you notice the aggressive wear this week has lent his hands. They’re a raw, angry red at the knuckles; his nails are cracked in some places and peeling in others. Moving your fingers gently down toward his wrist, you focus more directly on the state of his, catching sight of a few hangnails and stretched cuticles that can’t be comfortable. He looks down as you begin to worry them beneath the soft pads of your own fingers, and you meet his gaze, brows furrowed as you look between his face and hands. 

“Keep doing that, please,” he says with a sigh before closing his eyes, “I wait all day to feel your hands on mine. They’re so soft.” He lifts your hand to his lips before pressing a feather-light kiss to your knuckles. He loves the delicate, reverent way you play with his hands, like they’re small, fragile things in need of tender attention. You take his hand once again into both of yours and gently rub it between them, looking back up at him, concerned. 

“How do yours feel? They look like they’re hurting you,” you gnaw a bit at your bottom lip in thought, and he tries to assuage your worry.

“I’m alright, darlin’. Nothing worse than I’m used to,” he says. He knows from your deepening frown that you’re less than satisfied with this response.

You couldn’t care less if he’s used to it, he shouldn’t be. You know the protective callouses forged there don’t mean those hands are unfeeling in the slightest.

“Wait there. I’ll be right back,” you say, rising from his side and hastening to the bedroom. It’s his turn to frown now, both in confusion and at the sudden draft that’s appeared at his side.

You return not a minute later with a small tote around your wrist, and hands filled with half the manicure items you own. You sit down next to him and unpack, laying clippers, files, cuticle oil, and two different hand creams — a lotion he’s seen you use regularly, and a jar that must be a new addition — on the coffee table in front of you, along with the selected polishes and remover you had in the tote bag. You’ve been meaning to do your nails, anyway. 

Joel looks incredulously at you, unsure where this is going. Not that he’s a stranger to nail polish — he raised a little girl on his own long enough to have worn the rainbow on his fingers, but tonight? 

“Sorry, no color for you today, honey. Certainly not before these are healed,” you say. He’d chip half your handiwork away by Monday afternoon anyway the way he’s been working lately. Facing him, you cross your legs on the couch and smile, holding your hand out expectantly for his. He raises his eyebrows at you, but places his palm gently in your own. 

You grab the clippers and get to work on the hangnails first. Any peeling skin or cuticle right there at the nail you clip as gently as possible, making note of the reddened and slightly swollen areas at the base of his nail from which they protrude. Those will need careful attention at the end. He doesn’t squirm or react in any way, but you know they’re more sensitive than he’s letting on. 

Next, you clip back any breakages and unevenness in the nails themselves. You’d never find Joel Miller with dirty hands — he gets them clean as soon as he gets home, but all the scrubbing it takes to keep them that way takes its toll. A little trim at their length might help reduce the need for so much each day upon his return. 

After clipping, you grab his first hand again and rest it gently in the palm of your left while your right files steadily to even any rough edges left behind and prevent further injury. It won’t take much, but you’re sure to get them smooth so they won’t catch on anything or bother him later on. 

The cuticle oil is next. He looks at it questioningly, clearly a bit skeptical, only having seen it a few times when you or Sarah used it. He’s never ventured so far himself. While you brush it gently onto each of his nails, you explain its purpose. 

“This’ll just help your nails get a little stronger. It’ll get them hydrated a bit, keep ‘em  from peeling so much when your hands get dry. It’s kinda crazy how much better this stuff is for your nails than even water is. Water’ll make the peeling worse, actually. Weird, huh?”

He just nods along, listening to you, content to learn something new as always. Finger by finger, you massage the oil into his nail and nail bed. After the first round you go back through to massage again, both to make sure no oily feeling is left behind, and to prolong the rapidly concluding process. He could use the attention, anyway.

Finally, you pick up the jar he identified as a new addition: a canister of a hand repair cream labeled for “Healing of dry or cracked skin.”

“Never seen that one before,” he says, reading the label, “What d’ya need this for? Your hands are never dry! I think they’ve been soft every time I’ve held 'em since the day I met ya,” he smiles at you, and you bashfully brush off the compliment. 

“I don’t need it. I use the other one,” you say with finality, opening the jar and pulling the first of his hands into yours. You don’t grab a large dollop of the stuff. You don’t want him to feel a disconcerting weight, grease, or stickiness from this unfamiliar formula, so you get a little and begin. You add a bit more each time you reach a new spot on his knuckles, palms, wrists. 

You take your time, gently massaging into those roughened, tender hands far more than a simple healing salve. He understands why you have the jar now, looking at you knowingly, and you smile back. No words need be exchanged.

Once you’ve finished the last finger and the last stroke on his hands, you squeeze the one in your own, then pat it gently with your other, “There. Gotta feel better now, yeah?”

Joel stares at you like he just watched you reach up and place the moon in the sky, if for no reason other than to light his path. 

“Like you wouldn’t believe. Thank you sweetheart,” he says, squeezing your hand back and smiling reverently at you. You blush beneath his gaze and look away, unsure what to do with the admiration rolling off of him in waves. You lean back against the couch, file in hand as you start going at your own nails. 

“Good. Don’t let 'em go that long again, either. Where they start hurtin’ ya? Maybe we oughta make this a weekly thing. Manicure night? Been needing someone to do my right hand,” you grin, wiggling the corresponding fingers at him. He smiles back at you, then reaches over and pulls you toward his side, back to your original position laying against him, head resting once again on his shoulder.

“Sounds like a plan,” he says fondly into your hair, planting a kiss to your head in the process. You get comfortable once more, foregoing any plans to do your own nails tonight. You both know those “manicure nights” will be for him — and you’ve got Sarah to do your right hand already, when you do hers.

You grab the same free hand once again and admire your work, then lace your fingers between his own, and rest your twined hands on his leg. You’re satisfied knowing the hand behind you on the couch is comfortable now, healing from the week’s toils and melting into the comforting haze of the early autumn evening.

[cookies-over-yonder]

cutting class

During class Riz's teacher sends him to see Jawbone, and he doesn't know why.

ao3

“Jawbone?”

A most unexpected head pokes its way in the doorway, and Jawbone looks up from his desk to see Riz Gukgak finally paying a visit.

“Riz! Come on in, you can just shut the door behind you,” Jawbone says, getting up from his desk to sit in his chair across the couch.

“My teacher sent me here,” Riz says, following Jawbone’s instructions. “I’m not too sure why, I mean, it’s not like my grades will drop if I miss a few minutes of one class, but you never know, right? Maybe it was so you could help me work on my plans for the Bad Kids to all get into the same college, but I—I didn’t tell her about that, so no, that doesn’t make any sense. Did—did you know anything? Do you—did you…”

Riz takes a sip from his rather large water bottle, hand trembling as he drinks from it.

“Why don’t you have a seat, Riz?” Jawbone gestures to the couch across from him.

Riz puts his bottle back in his backpack and sits, hands balled into fists and pressed against his knees, and he’s wound so tight he’s shaking all over.

“You look a little tense, is everything alright?”

“Everything’s—” Riz swipes at the sweat on his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt, “Everything’s fine. Maybe I was sent here so you could help me work on Kristen’s campaign? I think I’ve got it handled though, so I’m not really sure why—”

“Riz.”

“Yeah?”

“Take a breath.”

“What?” Riz asks, eyes no longer darting around the room, locked with Jawbone’s.

“Take a deep breath in right now for me.”

Riz does as followed, shutting his eyes.

“Now let it out nice and slow.”

He sighs, fingers uncurling a bit against his knees.

He opens his eyes.

“Do you know why I was sent here? Because whatever it is, I really need to get back to class.”

He pulls the bottle out again and takes another swig of whatever’s inside.

“Is that water?” Jawbone asks.

“It’s coffee.”

“Kid, you should not be drinking that much coffee,” Jawbone says, opening up a little cooler under his desk and tossing Riz a plastic bottle of water.

“Wha—how else am I gonna stay awake?” he asks, just barely catching it.

“How many hours of sleep do you usually get?”

“Mm..” Riz tilts his head in thought. “I’d say, usually somewhere between zero and three. I think two is my sweet spot, though.”

“I think your teacher might’a sent you here ‘cause they were worried ‘bout you.”

“What? I—I’ve got perfect scores on all of my tests, and I’ve never missed an assignment—I would never—”

“Not worried ‘bout your grades. Worried ‘bout you .”

“ Why? ” he asks, and Jawbone notices him squeezing the water bottle so hard he fears it might burst.

“Simple. You seem stressed, and I know what you’re about to say, like you said last time, some stress can be good, sure.”

“It is.”

“Too much stress isn’t.”

Riz hisses, baring his fangs and glaring daggers.

“I know you don’t like hearing it, but it’s true, alright? I’ve seen how many clubs you’ve signed up for in addition to your campaign managing and your regular coursework and it’s a lot, and it’s clearly weighing on you.”

“I’m staying on top of everything just fine, Jawbone.”

“What’d your teacher say when they sent you to see me?”

“Uh… ‘Riz, you don’t look so good,’ and then I told her I was, and then she asked if everything was okay, and I said it was, and then she said, ‘how about you go and see Jawbone,’ and I said, ‘I’m fine,’ and then she said, ‘don’t hiss at me, I’m your teacher, and I’m asking you to go see Jawbone for me,’ and then I apologized, and then I came here.”

“Mhm, okay.”

“Can I leave now?”

“How are things at home?”

“Fine.”

“Is there a reason why you signed up for all these clubs?”

Jawbone wouldn’t expect Riz to try and avoid staying home for any reason in particular, but it doesn’t hurt to check.

“Looks good on applications. I—I’m not just gonna look past scholarship opportunities ‘cause it’s too much work. I can do all the work.” Riz squeezes the waterbottle harder.

Riz’s trembling is worse now, and Jawbone feels a little guilty in pushing so far, but at the same time, he’s still being fairly receptive, so it’s worth it to keep going.

“Is everything okay money-wise at home?” he asks, careful to keep his voice low and gentle.

Riz hisses again. “Do you really need to know all of this!?” he snaps, eyes wide and wild. “You’re a guidance counsellor, not some—some fucking interrogator!”

His claws pierce the bottle, and water shoots out of it, spraying at both of them. He throws it to the ground, and sucks in a breath, clawing at his hair.

“Riz, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m asking questions because I wanna help you.”

“You can’t.” he says, glaring again, but when they lock eyes, Jawbone can see tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he deflates, “Just—just—sorry. Sorry. Sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. Sorry,” Riz stutters out between gasps.

“It’s okay, kid. I know you’re dealing with a lot, and I’m not judging you for it.”

“I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay,” Riz whispers, shaking his hands out before burying his head in them, though his rapid breathing betrays him.

“It’s okay if you’re not, too,” Jawbone says softly.

Riz shakes his head. “It's not. I—I have to keep up with everything so all of us can get into college together—” he gasps, “—I don’t have time for anything else—” he gasps, “—I don’t have time for breakdowns—” he presses his palms against his eyes, and it’s clear he’s holding back a sob when he says, “—I’m used to being anxious anyway. It’s nothing new.”

“Riz, you’re allowed to cry in here if you need to. It might even make you feel better.”

Riz draws his knees to his chest and buries his face in them, pressing his hands against the back of his head.

And he breaks down crying. Giving in to his needs and letting it all out.

“It’s so stupid!” he sobs, “Why should my education be barred behind a paywall? I usually only sleep a couple hours, but I think I’ve been riding on half an hour for three days. And it’s only nightmares, but that’s fine! It’s fine! I—I—I wake up and I can’t breathe, but I always get over it eventually, so it’s fine!”

The sobs die down, and they’re replaced by the sound of pained hyperventilation.

“Riz, hey, I need you to breathe, okay?”

Riz whines, “I can’t—fuck— fuck ! ”

He lifts his head from his knees and swipes at the sweat on his face, eyes shut and breathing strained.

“Riz, can you hear me? You’re having a panic attack.”

“I know,” he forces out, flapping his hands and then pulling at his hair.

“Okay, Riz, listen here, I want you to follow along with me, okay?”

Riz nods.

“Can you look at me?”

Riz opens his eyes and stares back at Jawbone in a complete contrast to his glares from earlier. He sees fear.

“I want you to try and breathe in with me for four seconds. I’m gonna count, alright?”

Riz nods again.

Jawbone counts, and Riz tries his best to take in a breath.

“Now hold it.”

He does.

“And let it out. Good. Now we’re gonna do that again, alright?”

They do it a few more times, and when Jawbone sees Riz’s shoulders relax a little, he asks, “You feeling any better?”

“Yeah, uh, sorry,” he glances away. “Sorry. About that.”

“No need to apologize about your brain making things harder for you.”

“Right,” he mutters, scratching at his arms and staring at the floor.

“Now, you said you knew what was going on. Does that happen to you often?” Jawbone asks, grabbing another bottle of water and handing it to him. This time he actually takes a sip.

“What, panic attacks?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, I mean, yeah? But it’s only like, well, it used to be a few times a week, but now it’s more like twice a day, since, uh, since the school year started, I guess? It’s not, like, that bad, though. Like, I’m fine.”

Riz shrinks into himself a little as he’s talking, his discomfort obvious.

“That sounds pretty bad, kid. Does your mom know?”

He shakes his head. “She’s got enough on her plate. Especially now.”

“It sounds like you’ve got some severe anxiety, kiddo. I might have to talk to your mom about getting you some treatment.”

“ No! ” Riz shouts, throwing his hands out in defence, “I can handle it, it’s fine, I don’t want to cause her even more stress—”

“Riz, deep breaths.”

Riz slows down his breathing once more, setting down his hands.

“Riz, you are worth the worry, you know that? We worry about you because we care about you. We don’t want you to be suffering when we can find a way to help, you got me?”

“Um… okay. I—I got you.”

“You wanna stay here for the rest of class?”

Riz glances at the clock and bites his lip.

“I’ll talk to your teacher, and we can both help you catch up on whatever you missed.”

“Okay. okay,” Riz says, tears sliding down his cheeks again.

“You’re free to lie down on the couch if you’d like, you could even nap, unless you wanted to keep chatting, that is.”

Riz shakes his head.

Jawbone smiles at him, gets up and sits back down at his desk. Riz drinks some more water and then lies down, and Jawbone is pleased to see that he’s out like a light after ten minutes. He grabs a blanket hung over the arm of the couch and drapes it over him, and then he sits back down, dialing Sklonda on the phone.

[the-wip-project]

SloMo WriNo: Failure Proofing Your Goals

A Novel in one year.

So, what are the numbers for that?

If you’re so inclined, you’ve probably already done the math, and come up with some numbers for yourself.

Numbers like projected length of novel (I’m going to use 80k for this, but don’t get married to that, once you get into it the work with find it’s own length) and how many words a day you would need to write to hit that goal. (220)

That’s all very nice, but the problem with word count goals, is that you can create a situation where your writing becomes a pass/fail situation.

A situation where if you perceive yourself as failing (did I meet my word count goal this week? No? I AM A FAILURE!), and the pressure rises, it starts to feel safer to simply quit, rather than face repeated failures.

I’m against that sort of thing. (The quitting and also the negative self talk.)

So how does one measure progress without creating that sort of situation? How can you win the psychology game of getting words on the page?

Of course everyone is different. But here’s two methods (tricks? hacks?) that work for me at various times.

Low Goal, High Results. (The Min-Max zone)

The idea with this is to set a daily, or per session word count goal that feels too easy.

By now I hope you’ve figured out a good time and place to write. So go there, at that time, and do a timed 15 minute sprint. However many words you got, halve it. Repeat this exercise a few times to make sure you’ve got a good average.

Unless you’re a power writer, you will most likely end up with a number that is below that 220 we mathed out earlier, DON’T PANIC. In fact, for this example lets say that you managed to write an average of 200 words in your 15 minute sessions. Which means that your daily goal is now 100 words.

Of course with that number, even if you write every single day for a year that will only give you 36 500 words. Not a novel. Barely a novella!

The point here is not to write only 100 words a day. It’s making the daily task of writing feel easy and approachable. Not scary. If you know you only need to write 100 words, and you know you can get that done easily in less than 15 minutes, then why not do it? And once you’re writing, writing a little more generally happens easily enough. If getting started is the hard part, this should really help.

It’s a common psychological trick. But it’s common for a reason. It works!

Once you’ve set your (very easy) minimum goal, I also encourage you to set a maximum daily goal too. Especially if you’re the type of person who tends to go on 10k writing binges and then not write again for two months. Set your maximum at what you can comfortably write in 1.5-2 hours. So let’s say that’s 1000 words. Meaning your goal is to write 100-1000 words every time you sit down to write, and consider everything, from barely getting 102 to maxing out at 1002 an awesome, winning, writing day.

What does that look like? On a bad day, a day you don’t fee like writing at all, it means you tell yourself that all you need to do is write for ten minutes. Just get down 100 words (or whatever your minimum goal is.) And then if you haven’t found your mojo, you stop. No guilt or regret. You’ve met your goal, even though you’re having a bad day. You’re doing awesome!

On a power day, when you feel almost possessed by the muses, it means that when your timer beeps, or you see that number on the bottom of the screen hit 1000 (or whatever your number is), you make yourself stop. Yes. Stop mid flow. (It’s painful, I know! But please try!) Why stop? Because you’re learning how to have a healthy long term writing habit.

Write yourself some notes, and come at it fresh tomorrow. The goal is teach yourself that your creativity isn’t actually a unreliable muse. You are not subject to it’s whim. With time and practice your creativity will be there whenever you reach for it.

This is the method that I use most of the time, and I strongly recommend you give it a decent try (6 weeks at least.)

However perhaps you’re really just convinced that particular kind of psychological trickery just won’t work for you, or perhaps you’ve tried it in the past without success. Maybe it creates the opposite effect for you, and you find daily writing skippable because the minimum goal feels so low that you think you can make it up later (you won’t, but ahem, brains are weird.) So here is an alternative method that is also quite effective.

2. Higher Goals to Plan For Misses

Instead of setting your goal ridiculously low, you can try setting it high enough that you can miss writing days while still staying on track.

This will only work if you’ve been able to carve out a larger chunk of time for daily writing, thirty minutes to an hour.

So, lets run the example numbers. Using the 80k novel template, we already know that it would take 220 words a day if you write every single day, and never delete anything.

Writing every day is almost impossible, so you’re setting yourself up to fail if you set 220 as your goal.

So instead you plan for writing 6 days a week. Perhaps you intend to take Mondays off. They suck and you know you usually don’t feel like writing then anyway. Awesome. Let’s make that our schedule. Writing 312 days a year means a daily target of 257 words.

But still, that leaves no margin for error. No time for bad days, illness, that one scene you have to cut because it wasn’t working, etc.

So we double it. Your goal, with a plan of writing 6 days a week, is 500 words a day. And also (and this is the important bit) 2000 words a week.

Wait! That’s 4 days, not 6! Yes. That’s the point. It allows room for misses. To allow you to fail without failing. For days when you can’t reach 500, for days when you don’t have time (and with a larger daily goal like this, that’s a lot more possible.) For days when you just can’t.

Of course if you can only count on writing 5 days a week, or 4, or whatever your life situation calls for, adjust your goals accordingly. Always keep your goal word count about 1/3 higher than needed, to give yourself that cushion. If the numbers gets too large to manage, then it’s time to change the long term goal.

Yes. Really. Change it. Setting a goal that you’re bound to fail at is not going to help you.

Perhaps it’s more feasible for you personally to write your novel in 18 months, or two years. As always, your health is more important than an arbitrary time line, and you’ll still be awesome if you write your novel a little slower.

But what if both of those methods still stress you out, or if focusing on the numbers like that kills your joy?

Here’s a bonus method, that I personally use when things get to be a real struggle.

3. Gold Stars

This is for the times when the thought of tracking word count is just one step too many, and becomes an obstacle for writing at all. However when you abandon tracking completely, it’s often a way to abandon writing too.

So having some sort of way to confirm that yes, you’ve written for the day still helps, whether that’s putting a gold star, or an X on a calendar (you can find printable month/page calendars online for free, or you can buy those little book calendars very cheap), creating an art or craft piece (one time I wrote an entire novel assisted by a scarf where I only got to crochet a row after I’d written for the day), or whatever other way you can think of to mark that you wrote. Having a way to look back at your week or month and confirm that yes, you’ve written most days, is often enough keep you honest (with yourself.) As long as it’s something that feels like a reward and not additional work.

So there you have it. 3 methods for setting word count goals and tracking what you’re accomplishing.

Let me know what you’re going to try, or what sort of tricks work for you! (and feel free to ask me for help figuring out how to apply this in your own life.)

—Maree

Subscribe to my substack to make sure you don't miss a post, chat with me on the WIP Project discord, and tag any posts you make about the challenge with #slomowrino if you want me to see them!

[chaotic-super]

Joining The Superfriends - 21

Read it on AO3 here!

Well, Lena’s screwed.

Nia probably is too since Lena let her fall asleep over sixteen hours ago and she’s been unable to wake her up since. She’s been checking her pulse regularly and her breathing seems completely normal but she’s just not reacting when Lena tries to wake her up, it’s like she’s in some kind of a coma.

At first, Lena was just convinced that she must be finally getting some decent sleep and her body is just catching up on the sleep she’s been missing out on but she doesn’t seem to be having regular sleep cycles, her eyes never reactive when Lena checks them and she doesn’t respond to any kind of external stimulus at all.

Lena’s still holding out hope that Nia will wake up soon enough though and is actively working on figuring out what her dream might mean, working her way through book after book until she has a general idea of what it could potentially mean.

A light knock at the door interrupts Lena’s pacing. She’s been doing it for a while now and she’s actually gotten very good at reading while pacing, knowing exactly how many steps in each direction she can take before she has to turn around and walk in the other direction.

Lena looks up from her current reading material to see Supergirl in all of her glory leaning against the doorframe. “Hey, Lena. How is everything going in here? Have you been in here all day?”

Marking her page with a post-it note, Lena closes the book she was just reading and tosses it down onto the table, not flinching when it lands with a thump.

“Careful, you’ll wake sleeping beauty over there.” Kara nods to Nia, who is still leaning against the desk, head down and eyes closed.

Lena rubs at her eyes with a hand, wiping away her own fatigue in harsh movements that make Kara’s eyes hurt just from watching her. “No, she won’t. I can’t wake her up.”

“What do you mean?” Kara’s only reaction is a frown, her face otherwise composed but it doesn’t fool Lena, she can see the panic in the way she gulps and the way her hands ball into fists at her side.

“I was helping her, she’s been having a reoccurring dream that’s been keeping her up at night so she’s barely slept the past few days but when I went to go and fetch Nia’s books for her, I came back here and found her exactly how she is now, fast asleep. That was sixteen hours ago. Her breathing and pulse are both fine but she’s not waking up.”

Despite Lena telling her that she’s not waking up, Kara’s trying it anyway, she has to see for herself. She walks over to Nia’s sleeping form and picks her up with ease until she’s lying across the table, at which point Kara stands over her, grabs her shoulders and shakes her without an ounce of delicacy.

Lena knows that Nia isn’t going to wake up but she does hope and she can’t help but hold her breath as Kara shakes her, waiting to see if there’s a reaction.

There’s not.

“Nia! Nia, wake up!” Kara tries again, disappointed when she, once again, gets no response.

“I tried that already. I do think she’s just sleeping but I didn’t think she’d sleep for this long, maybe we should get Alex and Brainy in here, Alex can check her over properly and Brainy might have more insight into what’s happening.”

“Good idea. I’ll take her to the med bay though, Alex will be able to make sure she’s alright there. Can you go and get them both? I think they’re in the kitchen making coffee.” Kara slips her hands beneath Nia’s body, lifting her up tenderly and being careful to not jolt her too much as she carried her out of the room, Lena hot on her heels.

They part when they get to the med bay, Lena rushing off rapidly while Kara continues on inside, lying Nia down on the bed in there and doing the only thing she knows how to do, placing the heart rate monitor and starting it up. The only reason she knows how it works is because of how many times she’s watched Alex use it on her but hey, at least she’s learned something through all of the times she’s taken a punch or two.

Alex, Brainy and Lena are rushing in just as she’s finishing up with the wires.

“What’s going on?” Brainy rushes to Nia’s side, scooping her hand up between his and holding it to his chest tightly.

Kara steps away from Nia to give Alex room to get close to her and set up the rest of the equipment she needs. “Um, Lena says she’s been asleep for sixteen hours now and she’s not showing any signs of waking up soon.”

“Why are we only learning about this now? If she’s been asleep for that long then we should have been told about this hours ago.” Alex pins her harsh, protective gaze onto Lena, her accusation making Lena suddenly question her decision to wait it out and see if Nia would wake up on her own.

“I thought she was just sleeping for a long time because she’s not slept properly in days, I thought she’d wake up on her own and didn’t want to tell you in case it was normal so as not to disclose the information Nia entrusted me with.”

Alex shakes her head. “Secrets are not more important than the health of the team.”

“I’m sorry.” Lena ducks her head. “I didn’t want to betray her trust.”

“I know,” Alex says, her focus now on Nia rather than on holding the conversation with Lena. “Brainy, you can stay but Lena and Kara, you guys head out, I need the space to check her over, we’ll fill you in when we know more.”

“But—” Kara goes to argue but the sharp look she gets stabbed with from Alex has her quietening down and taking one last worried look at her friend on the bed before heading out. “Ok, we’ll wait upstairs.”

Lena doesn’t want to leave, she wants to stay and see what test results Alex gets from Nia but based on the spiky glare she was getting before and the quick dismissal she and Kara just got, she’s not welcome here.

She knows she messed up by not telling anyone that she couldn’t wake Nia up but really, her name is literally Dreamer, how is she meant to know when something is terribly wrong as opposed to Nia just doing what she does best, dream?

Kara pulls Lena out with her by her hand, her fingers squeezing around Lena’s in what she hopes to be a reassuring manner. “Come on, how about we get you some coffee? You look like you need it.”

“Yeah, ok.” Lena barely registers what Kara’s saying, too in her head about her choice to just see if Nia would wake up on her own instead of having Alex, a trained medical professional, look her over.

“Lena, look at me.” Kara senses that Lena’s not really listening and she needs her to be with her, mentally rather than just physically. “Look at me.”

Lena does, her eyes glistening as she fights back her tears at how bad she feels now. “I’m sorry, Kara. I didn’t mean for her to be like this, I thought she was just asleep.” 

“I know, and that’s why you need to listen to me, Lena. We will fix this and Nia will be just fine, we always find a way and this is no different. I need you to tell me exactly what’s going on with Nia though so we can help, can you do that?” Kara holds eye contact with Lena, not letting her break it by carefully pressing a finger beneath her chin when she tries to duck her head. “I know that you were just trying to help and I’m not going to fault you for that.”

Lena’s chin wobbles, her bottom lip quivering in time with it. “Maybe you should. I can’t believe that I actually sat beside her for that long convincing myself that she would be fine, I should have known, I should have sensed that something was wrong but I just let it keep going and going. Who knows how long I would have sat there with her comatose beside me if you hasn’t come in and taken over.”

Kara’s hands move to Lena’s shoulders. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up. Let’s get that coffee and go over all the information we have and then we can go from there.”

Lena nods, her way of doing things is clearly flawed so it’s better if they go with Kara’s plan now rather than her own. “Alright.”

-

Lena watches Kara carefully. She focuses on the way her lips purse as she reads over the books Lena herself was reading not too long ago and she maps out the contours of the lines on her forehead with her mind, her vision digging into each crease and wishing she could smooth them out.

With a huff, Kara shuts the book she’s reading. “I’m not really sure what we can do from here, Lena. The dream itself isn’t too complicated but we can’t narrow down the meaning when we can’t make a proper match between what she saw and what’s written here and then what we can find, there seem to be multiple options for what they could mean. That’s without taking the reoccurring factor into account.”

“I know, I spent hours trying to figure it out too, all I could gather from it is that most of the sign point to it being related to an upcoming event and it must be big or at least important for it to be reoccurring how it is.”

Kara sighs heavily, picking up her coffee mug and taking a sip only to pull away in disgust when she realizes that it’s long since gone cold. “Ew.” With a quick blast of heat vision, her coffee is once again steaming hot.

Lena holds out her mug and Kara takes the hint, using a second blast of her heat vision to warm hers up too. “Maybe we should stop focusing on what her dream was and focus on what her dream is now.”

“What do you mean?” A crinkle forms between Kara’s eyes and it takes everything in Lena not to reach out with a finger and press down on the flesh to smooth it out.

Lena takes a deep breath, rerunning the logic through her head to make sure she’s not about to talk out of her ass in front of Kara. “Ok, so, hear me out. What if the reason Nia isn’t waking up is because she’s dreaming? Sounds pretty logical, right? So, if she is dreaming, there’s a good chance that it’s a different dream from before because her other dream was keeping her awake while this one is making her sleep, it’s two ends of the spectrum, too little and too much, we need to get inside of her head to see what’s happening.”

Kara’s face doesn’t change throughout her messy explanation and not for a good thirty seconds afterwards either, finally, she opens her mouth to speak, closing it again a moment later and thinking for a bit longer before coming up with something to say. “That’s a good theory.”

“Do you think it’s worth looking into?”

Kara nods. “I do and I know how to do it too.” Without further prompting, Kara makes quick work of setting all of Nia’s books into a relatively neat pile and then heads for the door, stopping to look back over her shoulder and beckon Lena to follow her. “You coming?”

Lena rushes to her feet, almost tripping as she finds her balance and ups her pace to catch up with Kara’s long, confident strides. “Where are we going?”

“The med bay.”

Lena can barely keep up with Kara, her strides far too determined for Lena’s uncertain gait.

“Alex, we’ve got a plan!” Kara announces their presence, “Brainy, I need that weird forehead thing you used to see into my mind when we first met and I need you to make it so Lena and I can go into her dream.”

Brainy frowns, “I think that if anyone is going into Nia Nal’s dreams, it should be me.”

“Are you caught up on all of the things that have been happening in her dreams recently?” Kara challenges.

Brainy hesitates, his hands still cradling Nia’s. “Well, no.”

“Then it has to be us, there’s too much stuff to catch you up on so we need you to just do whatever you can to make this happen so we can try and figure out what in the world is happening to Nia.” Kara moves over to Alex. “Have you found anything on any of the tests? Anything that might show why she’s like this?”

Alex looks down at Nia, sadness evident on her face. “No, I haven’t but she is stable.” She turns to Lena. “Hey, sorry I snapped at you.”

“Don’t worry about it, I deserve it.”

“No, you don’t.”

Brainy breaks through the moment, not letting them argue over something he deems insignificant when his girlfriend is lying prone on a bed in the med bay. “I’ll be right back, I have the device in storage still and I believe that it will only take me approximately eight minutes to repurpose it so you can enter her dreams.”

“Alright, we’ll go over the test results again just to be sure while you go and do that then, Brainy,” Lena says, a little worried about her plan now that they are actually going through with it and needing the reassurance of the tests to tell her that Nia is healthy enough that she can cope with having her and Kara’s consciousness darting around in her head for a little while.

Alex doesn’t put up much of a fuss at Lena wanting to double-check the results, she can tell by the apprehension clinging to her bones that Lena needs to see them for her own peace of mind rather than because she doesn’t trust her judgement and skills.

Lena takes the tablet Alex offers her and immediately notices that she has a lot of brain activity and that all of her stats are completely fine. That’s good news. “I hope this works.”

“Me too but why do you need to see her dream if she already told you what it is?”

“I think it’s a different one and I need to see it because I think that something terrible is going to happen and it’s going to happen sooner than we want it to,” Lena says, trying to rid the panic from her chest and ground herself before they get on with what they need to do.

Kara takes a seat beside Nia after pulling up a couple of chairs to the side of the bed. Of all of the strange things that she’s done over the years of her being Supergirl, this is going to be up there with the weirdest because seriously, she’s about to go into somebody else’s dream.

She’s had Brainy in her head before and Alex in her black mercy induced dream but to go into somebody else’s feels personal on a level that makes her a bit uneasy. It makes her feel like she’s invading Nia’s privacy a bit but as of yet, she hasn’t come up with any other ideas of how to help get Nia out of her comatose state so they are going to have to go through with Lena’s plan.

It doesn’t take a genius to see how much Lena is beating herself up because she didn’t instinctively know that Nia was in a bad way, how could she? Nia was just asleep, something that everyone sees on a regular basis since she’s always napping around The Tower and it makes sense that Lena would think that she’s just sleeping for a while to catch up on sleep after barely catching a wink for several days in a row. Kara just wishes she could say something to make Lena feel better. Maybe if the plan works it will help to alleviate some of the guilt that Lena is riddled with.

Those few minutes that Brainy is off sorting out his device to make it compatible with their situation feel like hours because they don’t have a lot to say, their worry for Nia palpable and their brains refusing to do them the service of allowing them to make small talk. It’s probably a good thing really, they would end up feeling bad for talking about the weather in a situation like this once it’s over anyway.

Brainy does appear not long after, with a confident swagger to his walk now that he has his mind partially occupied on his work rather than Nia’s wellbeing.

“I have recalibrated these devices so that you can enter her dream seamlessly. I have added an inbuilt distress signal so that I can pull you out if you need me to, this device will let me know when you want to come out anyway and I can remotely put you under. For safety, I would suggest you both be monitored the entire time you’re in Nia’s dreams. You will also wake up naturally if the dream comes to a natural end. That’s what we’re hoping for.”

“Ok, that sounds good,” Kara says, urging Lena to come and take a seat next to her by gently tugging on her sleeve.

Lena clasps onto the edge of Kara’s cape, nervous but trusting in Brainy and his device. He’s a smart guy and they have Alex watching over them too. This should be fine.

Brainy and Alex start surrounding them, working like a well-oiled machine as they set up the devices on their foreheads, a long, white bar of an item with wires coming off of it and then adding more wires around their bodies to track their stats while they are under, mostly just tracking brain activity, heart rate and blood pressure.

Lena tries not to fidget as Alex carefully sticks wires and electrodes onto her, repositioning them where she has to and being gentler than Lena has ever seen her be. She’s been told about Alex’s past as a doctor but she’s never really seen her in practice properly. It’s a nice surprise and it leaves her with no doubts that Alex was a good doctor, it’s almost a shame she quit being one but she does a lot of good as a badass vigilante too. A doctor, a secret agent and a superhero, Alex has done it all, she really has.

“Are you ready?” Brainy asks, giving them one last chance to back out, one that neither woman is about to take.

Kara and Lena share one last look before nodding, both of them nervous and doing their best not to show it. “We’re ready,” Kara speaks for them both.

“Three, two, one.” Brainy remotely switches on the devices and in an instant Kara and Lena are unconscious, their bodies sliding on their chairs until they are leaning against each other, keeping each other up like two cards in a card pyramid.

Kara is shocked to find herself lying on the ground in what appears to be a desert of some kind, sand trickling into her suit and making her feel all icky.

A quick glance around shows her that Lena is right beside her, also in the process of figuring out what’s going on and very intrigued by the glow of the bright turquoise sand they are resting on.

“Lena, are you alright?”

“Fine. Are you?”

“Yeah, let’s try and find Nia.” Kara heaves herself to her feet, hating the feeling of the sand racing its way through her suit until it’s pooled up in her boots. For a dream, this feels awfully real and any other time that would be cool but there’s not much worse than having sand in your shoes.

Lena takes a good look around. She uses her hand to block the rays of a harsh sun from her eyes, noting with a hint of excitement that it’s a red sun, the same as Rao, the sun from Kara’s home planet. “The sun is really pretty.”

“It is, it reminds me of home.” Kara smiles slightly but doesn’t linger on it for long, letting herself have only a tiny amount of time to embrace the moment before getting back to task.

They look all the way around them, looking out over the sand to try and spot anything other than desert and they don’t have to search for long because off in the distance to the south of them, they can spot a giant structure of what appears to be a castle of some kind, one that you would see in a fairy-tale. It has turrets and flags and towers. It’s majestic.

Lena finds herself drawn to it and not just because it’s the only thing here other than sand. “I have a feeling that Nia might be there.”

“You really think so?” Kara questions.

“I do.”

“Let’s go then.”

They trudge their way through the sand, cursing the coarse feeling of it as it rubs against their skin, hurting them even in the dream which doesn’t bode well if they have to face anything worse than some sand.

It takes them a while to get there but also simultaneously no time at all, their perception of time warped by the dream completely. They find themselves standing before a great gate, wood and metal intertwined to create a rustic-looking beauty that Lena thinks would make a great garden gate if it were much smaller.

Kara reaches out to try and push it open and trips when her hand goes right through it, her body falling after it. Lena can’t stop the snort of laughter that she lets out, the noise loud and obnoxious as she walks through the gate herself only to then trip over herself as her foot catches on Kara’s body that is still on the floor from where she fell.

“You just fell for me.” Kara laughs.

“Try that again after the second date and maybe I’ll find it cute.” Lena rolls her eyes, pushing herself to her feet and pulling Kara up with her, looking around the courtyard to see where they should go next. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Say what you want about dreams, they can be really helpful when you need a little bit of a hand figuring out where to go next,” Lena replies, looking up at one of the turrets of the castle that is glowing with a faint pink and yellow ripple.

Kara’s eyes widen at the sight. “That’s…something.”

“It sure is,” Lena says, finding the door closest to the turret and hoping that they will just find some stairs that will lead right the way up to it.

Once they are inside the castle, an easy feat if there ever was one, they become pretty bummed to find out that in every direction they look is a hallway that looks identical to the others, one that doesn’t fit into what a hallway in a castle should look like, one that you’d expect to find in a doctor’s office.

“Well, that’s less helpful.”

A loud, high-pitched scream from above them and somewhere to the right has all of their hair standing up, their ass cheeks clenching and their eyes widening. They follow it, almost by instinct at this point that if something is scary, they should go toward it like the idiots in movies that always die first.

As they are trying to find the source of the noise, the screech happens again, this time closer but still above them, perhaps directly above. Lena almost jumps out of her skin at the sound of it and holds a hand over her chest to steady her pounding heart. “Holy shit, I’m suddenly remembering why I usually leave the missions to anyone else but me. I can’t wait until I can get back to my lab and just pretend none of this ever happened.”

“As if, you come on a mission once and your life is forever changed and you can no longer back out of being sucked into coming out on more missions, we’ll have to get you started in training so you can learn to kick some major balls.” Kara smiles at Lena for a moment, her smile only then widening when she notices a little doorway blended into the wall, a panel of plaster jutting out on hinges in the most peculiar way. “Ah, a door.”

“That’s not a door, that’s a wall built by a blind person who thought they were building a window.” Lena reluctantly follows Kara through the gap, keeping her in arm’s reach at all times.

“Don’t be mean,” Kara says, a complete lack of bite to her tone. She reaches out behind her as a third scream echoes through the new hallway they are now in. Lena takes her offered hand and skims her eyes over the exposed brick of the new hallway they are in. It looks like a servant’s passage, much more befitting of a castle.

They come to the apex of a narrow set of stairs and come to a stop when they see something they were not expecting before.

“Hey, Nia,” Kara calls out quietly at the woman standing in the middle of a banquet hall atop a great wooden table. She’s dressed in a squirrel costume and is throwing the large, heavy candles from the table up at a boombox that is strung from the ceiling by a thick rope.

Nia turns to them rapidly, startled by their presence, and without thinking she tosses a candle in their direction. Kara, thinking quick on her feet, ducks. Lena isn’t so lucky and the candle hits her in her chest, sending her gasping to her knees while she cradles her injured left boob in her hands. “Ow!"

Nia’s hands shoot up to cover her mouth as she gasps in shock. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry, Lena!”

“Don’t worry about it.” Lena wheezes, making her way to her feet, hands still cradling her injured boob, “accidents happen.”

“Is your—” Nia points to her own boobs for a moment awkwardly, “ok?”

“Give me a minute to recover and then I’ll tell you.”  Lena breathes heavily through her nose, releasing her boob after a few long moments. “Ok, ok, so, how are you, Nia?”

“Me? You’re the one that’s injured!” Nia exclaims.

Lena shrugs. “You’re the one in a comatose state in the med bay and the one that we had to use some of Brainy’s future tech to get into the dream of.”

Nia’s face goes blank. “What?”

Kara nods. “Yeah, that about sums it up. You went to sleep and haven’t woken up, we’re nearing seventeen hours at this point and this is a dream, nice squirrel costume by the way, you want some nuts?”

Nia looks down at what she’s wearing and her eyes grow so wide that both Lena and Kara momentarily worry that they might pop right out of her skull. “Oh, I hadn’t noticed that.”

“And what exactly did you think you were doing with the candles?” Lena asks, very confused about what’s happening and her now aching boob making it hard to concentrate.

A scream fills the air, ricocheting through the open space and answering Lena’s question. The boombox shakes with the force of the sound and it makes them all rush to cover their ears. “I was trying to destroy that.”

“Understandable but can we figure out how to get Nia to wake up so we can leave this hellscape please?” Kara asks, not enjoying her time here in any way, shape or form.

Lena agrees right away. “That’s a great plan. Nia, do you know if we can get higher up in the castle from here?”

“We’re in a castle? Neat.”

“That’s a no then.” Lena sighs. “How have you been here for this long and yet you don’t know anything about what’s going on?”

Nia’s lips turn down and she finally climbs off the table, coming down to the same level as Lena and Kara. “I don’t know, this just happens sometimes, I sort of become entwined with my dreams to the point where I don’t question them.”

“Well maybe that’s how we get out of here, we make you more aware of your dream and I know where to take you to do that.” Lena smiles at Nia, her dimples coming out as she tries to make Nia feel more comfortable. “We saw a turret on the way inside that was glowing, I’d bet my non-injured boob that we can find a few answers in there.”

“Ok, sounds good to me.” Kara shrugs, heading for a door that is on the opposite side of the banquet hall they are in.

The three of them pass through the door and as they do, Nia gasps. Her squirrel costume has disappeared and in its place, her Dreamer outfit has appeared except rather than the usual blue, it’s bright pink.

Lena tilts her head while looking at it, deciding if she approves of it or not. It’s kind of giving Stephanie vibes from LazyTown but she’s here for it. She gives Nia a thumbs up and then keeps heading on her way.

They follow the twists and turns of the hallways they have found themselves in, plain stone slabs adorning the floors while the walls are exposed brick. They feel like they are walking around in circles but there’s nothing else they can do but keep looking for a way up.

They scan each brick they pass and are careful not to trip on the uneven slabs, periodically stubbing their toes and cursing Nia’s dream for giving them all of the awful things people normally try to avoid in real life, sand in shoes, random screaming and now stubbed toes. This dream is nothing short of uncomfortable. Maybe that’s the point.

“Hey Nia, what kind of things annoy you?” Lena asks, eyebrows pulling together.

Nia shrugs. “I don’t know, this?”

Kara catches on to Lena’s train of thought much quicker than Nia does. “What annoys you just in general?”

“I don’t like when people chew with their mouths open.”

Kara shakes her head. “No, that’s not what we mean. What annoys you like…when we’re on a mission?”

“I don’t like booby traps.” Nia shrugs and just a moment later she trips on a wire tracing across the width of the hallway, sending her sprawling across the floor and barely avoiding the axe that swings down from the ceiling.

“Ah, so that’s going to be a problem.” Lena sucks her lips into her mouth. “Maybe we should be making her think about things that make her happy instead.”

Kara nods, staring at the axe for a moment and noting how sharp the edge is. “Nia, think about puppies or something.”

Like magic, a group of puppies come barrelling down the hallway from behind them and run right past them, not stopping for a moment and disappearing from view just moments after like they were never there in the first place.

“That’s kind of cool,” Lena admits. “Nia, make us a door leading to the glowing turret please, maybe a nice one, perhaps something elaborate and fancy, just for the hell of it.”

A white and gold door appears, swirling shapes engraved into it, leaves and flowers etched into the wood in places. It’s a really nice door basically.

Kara tries the door but it’s locked and even a good harsh shove with her shoulder proves fruitless, doing nothing more than starting up a nice bruise that will match the one on Lena’s left boob. “A key, Nia?”

A large brass key drops from the ceiling above them.

“Thanks.” Kara picks it up and slides it into the lock, opening it up to a spiral staircase. “Let’s get up there and get out of here, it sucks here, Nia, no offence.”

“If I can control it all then it means it’s a lucid dream.” Nia frowns. “Lucid dreams in Naltorians aren’t that common, despite our powers. It’s a sign of my powers trying to protect me from having dreams that could be detrimental to my health. I guess the other dream was getting to the point where I needed protection from it. The lucid dreams let me control my own dreams, hence letting me provide a safe space for myself but it’s also not uncommon for people to be terrorized in their lucid dreams because they don’t recognize them for what they are and let their emotions dictate their unconscious choices, that’s why the dream has sucked, it’s playing off my annoyance from my recent lack of sleep. It’s interesting to think about.”

They reach the top of the stairs as Nia finishes her explanation. They’re in the turret, they know that now because the glow is emanating from the centre of the room and it’s not the turret itself emitting the light but a portal watch, one similar to the design that Nia has seen Lena begin planning to build.

“I think that’s our way out.” Nia picks it up without hesitation, pressing a couple of buttons and watching as a portal opens. “Who wants to go first?”

Kara places a hand on Nia’s shoulder as she passes her. “Good job, Dreamer.” She passes through the portal.

Lena follows suit. “I agree with that sentiment, come right through after me, ok?”

“I will.”

Lena passes through.

Nia takes a deep breath and passes through.

-

Nia’s eyes flutter open to the bright lights of the med bay, forcing her to shut them again just a moment later because it hurts. “Ow, we need to add dimming bulbs in here.”

“We have them, we just don’t use them,” Alex replies, watching Nia’s stats for a minute before humming, happy that they are all normal. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

“Thanks, it’s been a journey.”

“I know, I’ve been told. Kara and Lena woke up a little while ago, I offered to stay with you while they went to go and freshen up. Your boyfriend, however, refused to leave your side.” Alex shifts her gaze to Brainy, the Coluan face down on the mattress, snoring slightly.

Nia doesn’t fight the smile that spreads across her face. “Don’t wake him.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” Alex puts her tablet down and presses the back of her hand to Nia’s forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired.”

“You’ve been asleep for hours.”

“I know.” Nia laughs. “It wasn’t a relaxing sleep.”

Alex sits down on the chair Kara was unconscious in not long ago. “Was it really bad?”

“Not really bad. Not as bad as the reason I was stuck in my dream in the first place.” Nia’s eyes are already drooping again. “There’s something bad coming, Alex, something that’s going to be really difficult to handle and we have to be ready for it.”

Alex sniffs. “Then we’ll be ready.”

“I hope so.” Nia pressed her head back into her pillow.

“Is that such a good idea?”

Nia grins, little dimples appearing on her cheeks from how wide she’s smiling. “Yeah, I just learned how to lucid dream and I want to ride a unicorn. I know how to wake up by myself now, don’t worry.”

Alex shakes her head. “You can wait to practice your lucid dreaming later, we have fresh coffee in the kitchen for now.”

Nia pouts and it’s honestly a pretty good contender to Kara’s infamous pout. “Really?”

“Really, now get your butt up, we have preparations to get on with if your prediction is correct.”

Read 4 more chapters early on Patreon here!

[mareebrittenford]

SloMo WriNo: Failure Proofing Your Goals

A Novel in one year.

So, what are the numbers for that?

If you’re so inclined, you’ve probably already done the math, and come up with some numbers for yourself.

Numbers like projected length of novel (I’m going to use 80k for this, but don’t get married to that, once you get into it the work with find it’s own length) and how many words a day you would need to write to hit that goal. (220)

That’s all very nice, but the problem with word count goals, is that you can create a situation where your writing becomes a pass/fail situation.

A situation where if you perceive yourself as failing (did I meet my word count goal this week? No? I AM A FAILURE!) and the pressure rises, it starts to feel safer to simply quit, rather than face repeated failures.

I’m against that sort of thing. (The quitting and also the negative self talk.)

So how does one measure progress without creating that sort of situation? How can you win the psychology game of getting words on the page?

Of course everyone is different. But here’s two methods (tricks? hacks?) that work for me at various times.

Low Goal, High Results. (The Min-Max zone)

The idea with this is to set a daily, or per session word count goal that feels too easy.

By now I hope you’ve figured out a good time and place to write. So go there, at that time, and do a timed 15 minute sprint. However many words you got, halve it. Repeat this exercise a few times to make sure you’ve got a good average.

Unless you’re a power writer, you will most likely end up with a number that is below that 220 we mathed out earlier, DON’T PANIC. In fact, for this example lets say that you managed to write an average of 200 words in your 15 minute sessions. Which means that your daily goal is now 100 words.

Of course with that number, even if you write every single day for a year that will only give you 36 500 words. Not a novel. Barely a novella!

The point here is not to write only 100 words a day. It’s making the daily task of writing feel easy and approachable. Not scary. If you know you only need to write 100 words, and you know you can get that done easily in less than 15 minutes, then why not do it? And once you’re writing, writing a little more generally happens easily enough. If getting started is the hard part, this should really help.

It’s a common psychological trick. But it’s common for a reason. It works!

Once you’ve set your (very easy) minimum goal, I also encourage you to set a maximum daily goal too. Especially if you’re the type of person who tends to go on 10k writing binges and then not write again for two months. Set your maximum at what you can comfortably write in 1.5-2 hours. So let’s say that’s 1000 words. Meaning your goal is to write 100-1000 words every time you sit down to write, and consider everything, from barely getting 102 to maxing out at 1002 an awesome, winning, writing day.

What does that look like? On a bad day, a day you don’t fee like writing at all, it means you tell yourself that all you need to do is write for ten minutes. Just get down 100 words (or whatever your minimum goal is.) And then if you haven’t found your mojo, you stop. No guilt or regret. You’ve met your goal, even though you’re having a bad day. You’re doing awesome!

On a power day, when you feel almost possessed by the muses, it means that when your timer beeps, or you see that number on the bottom of the screen hit 1000 (or whatever your number is), you make yourself stop. Yes. Stop mid flow. (It’s painful, I know! But please try!) Why stop? Because you’re learning how to have a healthy long term writing habit.

Write yourself some notes, and come at it fresh tomorrow. The goal is teach yourself that your creativity isn’t actually a unreliable muse. You are not subject to it’s whim. With time and practice your creativity will be there whenever you reach for it.

This is the method that I use most of the time, and I strongly recommend you give it a decent try (6 weeks at least.)

However perhaps you’re really just convinced that particular kind of psychological trickery just won’t work for you, or perhaps you’ve tried it in the past without success. Maybe it creates the opposite effect for you, and you find daily writing skippable because the minimum goal feels so low that you think you can make it up later (you won’t, but ahem, brains are weird.) So here is an alternative method that is also quite effective.

Higher Goals to Plan For Misses

Instead of setting your goal ridiculously low, you can try setting it high enough that you can miss writing days while still staying on track.

This will only work if you’ve been able to carve out a larger chunk of time for daily writing, thirty minutes to an hour.

So, lets run the example numbers. Using the 80k novel template, we already know that it would take 220 words a day if you write every single day, and never delete anything.

Writing every day is almost impossible, so you’re setting yourself up to fail if you set 220 as your goal.

So instead you plan for writing 6 days a week. Perhaps you intend to take Mondays off. They suck and you know you usually don’t feel like writing then anyway. Awesome. Let’s make that our schedule. Writing 312 days a year means a daily target of 257 words.

But still, that leaves no margin for error. No time for bad days, illness, that one scene you have to cut because it wasn’t working, etc.

So we double it. Your goal, with a plan of writing 6 days a week, is 500 words a day. And also (and this is the important bit) 2000 words a week.

Wait! That’s 4 days, not 6! Yes. That’s the point. It allows room for misses. To allow you to fail without failing. For days when you can’t reach 500, for days when you don’t have time (and with a larger daily goal like this, that’s a lot more possible.) For days when you just can’t.

Of course if you can only count on writing 5 days a week, or 4, or whatever your life situation calls for, adjust your goals accordingly. Always keep your goal word count about 1/3 higher than needed, to give yourself that cushion. If the numbers gets too large to manage, then it’s time to change the long term goal.

Yes. Really. Change it. Setting a goal that you’re bound to fail at is not going to help you.

Perhaps it’s more feasible for you personally to write your novel in 18 months, or two years. As always, your health is more important than an arbitrary time line, and you’ll still be awesome if you write your novel a little slower.

But what if both of those methods still stress you out, or if focusing on the numbers like that kills your joy?

Here’s a bonus method, that I personally use when things get to be a real struggle.

Gold Stars

This is for the times when the thought of tracking word count is just one step too many, and becomes an obstacle for writing at all. However when you abandon tracking completely, it’s often a way to abandon writing too.

So having some sort of way to confirm that yes, you’ve written for the day still helps, whether that’s putting a gold star, or an X on a calendar (you can find printable month/page calendars online for free, or you can buy those little book calendars very cheap), creating an art or craft piece (one time I wrote an entire novel assisted by a scarf where I only got to crochet a row after I’d written for the day), or whatever other way you can think of to mark that you wrote. Having a way to look back at your week or month and confirm that yes, you’ve written most days, is often enough keep you honest (with yourself.) As long as it’s something that feels like a reward and not additional work.

So there you have it. 3 methods for setting word count goals and tracking what you’re accomplishing.

Let me know what you’re going to try, or what sort of tricks work for you!

—Maree

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[bootleg-sara]

I wanted to talk about the personalities of each of the Isaac here! The original post was more about the AUs, so I’m gonna take a shot at describing the characters themselves a small bit

Link to original post here

Going in order like last time:

Basement- The closest to canon Isaac personality wise. A small, scared child trying to survive a ruthless basement. He’s both the most scared and level-headed kid of the whole group. Feels an extreme amount of guilt for causing everyone to fall into the basement (indirectly, mind you). He’s around 10 years old and really just wants to go home. He’s a walking contradiction in a lot of ways. He wants to help you! But also will avoid interacting with you most times. He’s scared of everything, but also one of the most confident kids. He’s just a kid who means well and wants everyone to get out of this hell before he does.

Purgatory- I could talk about this one for ages, but I’ll keep it on the short end for everyone’s sake. Isaac Moriah is a 17 year old teen working through his last year high school while also dealing with his soul traveling to the afterlife every night. He’s an anxious mess who’d rather be left alone on most days. Which very clearly shows itself by his space in the basement being littered with random trinkets and other garbage. Dude’s a massive hoarder. Most of his comfort comes from his video games and art. Being able to express himself without getting others involved. His only close friend is Lazarus, the school’s local popular boy. When Isaac is comfortable around you, he is much more sassy and playfully tongue-in-cheek. He struggles deeply with his identity. Being unable to identify his body as his own on his worst days. A lingering dread that his own mind isn’t really his. Having your soul ripped out from your body every night can have some less than ideal effects.

Parasite- An old pastor of the Christian church before the world fell into ruin. Puts a lot of his well being into his faith, hoping that his beliefs will also bring comfort to many others during these trying times. Isaac means well, he genuinely wants to help people just for the sake of being a good man. But he also does put a little to much emphasis on Christianity sometimes. No Isaac, not everyone believes this event is the starting times of revelations. He’s not one to judge someone’s life because it doesn’t fall in line with his own. Everyone deserves to be saved and to have some comfort in his eyes. Isaac’s main stay in this au is starting a camp of non-parasite havers, protecting themselves from the violence outside. While the camp prides itself in its very anti-parasite ways, Isaac himself does have one. Though it’s relatively harmless (as far as he knows) and he doesn’t want people to lose hope again.

Sacrifice- Random ass office worker lmao. 9-5 hours, barely getting by kind of man. In a romantic relationship with Eve. Average in almost every way. Usually well spirited, sometimes a bit grumpy. Was definitely not expecting to be dragged into a death match where he’d be killing people over and over again (and dying a lot himself) for the sake of gaining arbitrary “points”. He’s not at all about this life style, but doesn’t have much of a choice. His Guardian Angel buddy let’s him use some magic-like abilities in the form of his D6 staff. A completely randomized weapon that doesn’t seem to have nearly as much use as everyone else’s magic. But you’d be surprised at how good Isaac is about thinking on his toes.

9 Lives- Little baby man. Baby. Baby man. A high spirits kid in a world that seemingly wants him dead for no real reason. Can’t catch a break and always finding himself in trouble. He’s gone through multiple lives at this point, but doesn’t remember any of them in detail. His only familiarity is his cat Guppy’s corpse he drags around with him and the D6 lodged into his left hand. A D6 which can give him useful abilities for any situation! If he can roll high enough, that is. Being a small kid, his life is aimless. Mainly just looking for someplace where he can stay and rest.

New God- The newly appointed God that is destined to make the new world in the wake of the current one’s failure. They have the mind of a child and is relatively young for a God. Being trained to make the new world together with Eden and Azazel. Almost never actually called Isaac, instead more formal names like “Young God” or “New God”. Prone to the usual kid problems like throwing temper tantrums when he can’t get what he wants. He has no true alignment, simply a baby God in training.

Cursed- Another baby man. Living his life as someone who is cursed to bring terrible fates to everyone he comes into contact with, he hid himself in the basement of his old home to avoid hurting more people. He’s shy, anti-social, terribly afraid of hurting everyone. But damn is he absolutely adorable too. His only consist buddy is Azazel, the demon that cursed him in the first place (needless to say he feels a little bad about it). Isaac finds it hard to connect to anyone, but slowly is trying to find his own faith in himself again.

Armageddon- Purgatory Isaac but with even more anxiety! Now with the massive responsibility of having to lead an army of angels into war with the anti christ during the end of days. Spends all his days holed up on Eden until he is called into action. He really doesn’t like his job.

Soul Bond- Tbh I don’t have nearly as much on this one. He breaks and makes bonds because he lost his own, it’s how he can stay around for so long. Surprisingly selfish and works mostly for himself.

Adult- Basement Isaac grew up and now he’s just miserable all the time. Having to raise and care for Eden (who is a full adult too) while also struggle with his career as an artist. Constantly stressed and really deserves a break. Doesn’t take shit from anyone. His confidence stayed with him after all these years. He’s a strong-willed man! Just in desperate need of a spa day.

Angel- What’s up? It’s Isaac, he’s 19, and never fucking learned how to read. He died at the age of 5, growing up in heaven under the watch of angels. Other than some nervous ticks he still has, and the knife he keeps on him at all times, dude’s chill. He’s buddies with Esau and is the resident crazy cat man. He has cat everything and nothing can stop him. He enjoys art in his free time and loves going on walks with his favorite cat Guppy. Guppy has three legs but we still love him.

Ultra Pride AU- It’s just in-game isaac. That’s it. Not even joking. The only main difference is he didn’t make the basement in his mind. He just found himself in it after being locked in the chest.

[electricbluebutterflies]

Chris/Melissa + bridal carries

Post-s6 domestic fluff is the best timeline. PG-ish and also on ao3.

Sometimes Melissa forgets how vulnerable she actually is.

It happens more often, as time passes, as she becomes more acquainted with the wild world around her. There is never a point when she forgets her humanity, no matter how many different species take up temporary residence in her spare bedroom, but the details of it blur. In the communities and whisper networks of every faction that wants no more than survival, safe outsiders are rare, and Melissa acquires her own reputation, just slightly separate from what her loved ones have done.

She is useful, and she maintains her mundane life as she can and all the weird stuff was sent her way at work even back when all of it seemed human, and she becomes protected by a web of alliances and blood debts, and it has been years since anything supernatural threatened her and she forgets that the mundane can wound her too.

It is a quiet day in the midst of a quiet month, and that means tagging along when her partner decides he needs to check all his warning systems because quiet never lasts. She has come to appreciate what someone else might describe as paranoia, the love and repentance shown through being absolutely thorough, even as attempts at explaining anything more complicated than “it’s gone because a squirrel got it” go right over her head. This isn’t an outing normal people would consider a date, but it’s at least a few hours of alone time and that’ll do, and-

Melissa is as always two steps behind, a little distracted, and trips on a tree root.

She has learned not to scream when distressed, but her body still makes a noise as it hits the ground and then the tiniest noise that she can’t suppress as she feels a sharp pain in the general vicinity of her ankle. At the very least twisted, she processes, maybe more than that, and so help her she is not trying to move right now, and-

Her partner whirls around, barely holding back the instinct to draw a weapon, and the look of relief in his eyes as he sees what actually happened is… probably not a normal-person reaction, Melissa thinks, but this is the kind of peace she can give him, this immunity to greater tragedies. He’s on the ground with her in a few heartbeats, and what a comfort it is to have a lover who is actually useful in a crisis, and-

“Tripped,” she says, just in case it isn’t damningly obvious. “Not sure about moving. I know we’re not done, but…”

He undoes her boot without asking – how did she get this lucky, she always asks herself at the strangest times – and puts just enough pressure on her obvious wound to confirm it. “We did enough. It’s alright.”

“You could leave me and loop back,” she shrugs, even now minimizing her importance. “Nothing else out here but me and the squirrels. I’d be fine. Take a catnap in the leaves.”

“Not happening.”

She leans up to take a kiss – she’s at least functional enough to do that, feels like a good sign, and she likes confirming that she’s attracted to certain tendencies – and rests her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I-“

“I forget you haven’t been doing this your whole life,” he murmurs, and she hears the longing in his voice, the things they don’t talk about until they make a vivid appearance in a nightmare, the fact that he has been out of the world that created him for some years now and he still hasn’t outrun it and-

“Unfortunately, my body forgets that too,” Melissa laughs. “Now what’s the plan?”

“Do you trust me?”

That question has never ended in anything more favorable than desperate decisions or a narrowly averted panic attack, but she nods anyways. “Yes…”

Instead of an explanation, and oh why can’t that man ever discuss what goes on in his mind before he does things, he starts shifting their position and… lifts her up, she processes as it’s happening, and the only reason this won’t end up the kind of questionable idea she’ll tease him about for years is because that bar is so low. She’s on the small end for a human woman in her age bracket, she knows, and he’s in decent enough shape, but the car is like a mile away and-

“Are you out of her mind?” she murmurs, hoping it comes out the right combination of affectionate and annoyed.

“You’re not putting weight on your ankle. It’ll get worse.”

There are days she appreciates how rarely he tries to control her behavior, how he hits all her usual weaknesses without being a jerk about it; these very occasional moments when that breaks, when it genuinely is for her own good and she’ll accept that later, are not among them. “This is still a bad idea.”

“It’ll be fine.”

She’d make a comment about how it will absolutely not be fine and he’s not going to want to move for like two days afterwards, but she really does appreciate the care of it all, how nice it is to be loved this kind of way. It should feel more normal a few years in, but somehow this is the hardest adaptation, not the fantastic and ever-changing amount of weird shit that becomes her problem but being loved by someone who is trying so hard to be normal about it. She’s unsure the two of them are capable of the sort of mundane dynamic they should be hitting in their late forties on a mutual second marriage, but-

“I have mentioned today that I love you, yes?”

The good thing about being carried, Melissa realizes, is that it makes kisses so much easier. “You have…”

“You take care of me. And I am trying to get less weird about it.”

There’s no need to escalate that into a fight, not with this endurance test they’re currently inflicting upon each other. She’d wanted physical closeness today; this isn’t how she planned on getting it, but she has no complaints. She feels secure enough, trusts her partner’s reflexes and understanding of his own capabilities, but-

There are a few pauses, but they do make it back to the car intact without any more mud ending up on her clothes and that looks like a win from her perspective, looks like love as he pokes around in the trunk for an instant ice pack and oh she will never be tired of how capable he is. How safe she is in the mundane disasters she still survives every once in a while, how this really has become a new beginning for both of them, how-

“It’s just twisted,” she points out as he bats her hands away. “I’ll be fine when we get home and I get a brace on it.”

“Still…”

“I forget. And then we remind each other. It’s alright.”

It always is, in the end. She can’t believe any other way anymore.

[animezinglife]

I think more than anything, while people have good intentions in telling you to be happy in your single life, it’s naivete and ignorance. Of course we all do everything we can to make the best of the situation and DO enjoy every area of our lives we can. That doesn’t mean experiencing the entirety of life alone isn’t a miserable reality. In my case, I don’t even have siblings--that presents another significant, scary challenge as if I don’t find someone to be with, I’ll inevitably be facing the reality of aging parents (and what eventually comes from that) alone.

I have healthier ways to cope with my anger, but it’s still fairly new to me and has only emerged within recent years. It’s fortunately rare. In those moments, I go for a run, spend an hour or so practicing kickboxing drills on the bag, lifting weights, or going for long walks with no music so I can soak in the sounds of nature around me. I go to the gun range sometimes--target shooting helps by activating parts of the brain that fall asleep when you’re lonely. Overall, I’m good at maintaining control of how I react to my emotions with the exception of loneliness. There’s no real way I’ve found to combat it when the worst of it--that suffocating feeling--occurs at night. No matter what time of night, I’ll get online and try to watch videos on YouTube that will distract me.

The busier I am in those moments, the worse I feel. All I’ve ever done was work and honestly, have never really had a chance to do anything else. I’ve never had the opportunity to date in a carefree way or really meet people outside of school and work. So I get frustrated when so many other women my age (where I live at least) don’t even have to have jobs for no reason other than the fact they’re married and their husbands fund their entire lifestyle. They have no responsibilities; no obligations. Meanwhile, I came home the other night because the maintenance crew in an apartment I can barely afford on my own broke some of my personal belongings and left them scattered about the floor, and I didn’t even realize it until I came home late from my second job. It’s that dire feeling of worthlessness combined with a cycle you can’t get out of because you have to provide for your basic needs and don’t have a choice but to do absolutely everything by yourself. Other women have the world handed to them, and I can’t even count on my own furniture being kept safe from an apartment maintenance crew? I’m not even worth them cleaning up after themselves afterwards? How is it that these women are so fortunate to have someone to love them and not even have a single responsibility while I would never ask for so much (and certainly wouldn't expect for someone else to fund my entire life) but just want someone to be there for me and hug?

It’s self-pity, and outside of those therapy sessions (and this post, apparently) I never reveal any of it. The pain just gets worse with age, though.

Every single thing I experience, I experience alone. Financial hardship? Alone. Cycle of abuse at work? Alone. Family tragedy? Alone. The few instances when I’m lucky enough to travel? Alone. Small moments of joy in my life? Alone. It’s insulting when people--usually those in happy relationships--tell me I should celebrate being alone. I have friends, and while I joke about my ability to make conversation with anyone and meet people anywhere being a part of my Southern [American] upbringing, the reality’s a lot more depressing than that. I actually had a very difficult and lonely childhood and home life. My entire life I’ve been desperate for human connection and love, so I try to find it wherever and however I can. I have a lot of love to give.

Of course, I do want to be fairly transparent in that when I write this out, I think it paints a very different image of how I handle the situation the majority of the time. I don’t show my anger (honestly, I just become a bit quieter than usual or seem more tired because I am), I don’t mope around, lock myself inside, or cry when I’m sad about it all. The tears do come late at night sometimes, but that’s the extent of it.

You’re right--none of those cliched responses ever help, and it’s all very consuming. I do understand what you’re feeling though, and if there are at least two of us out there who do, then there are probably more. I know for me, just finding your post last night and reading it at least gave me some comfort in knowing I wasn’t the only one who lived this way. I truly hope you find the comfort and love you deserve and that when you do, it’s more than worth the wait. 

Sending love from across the pond!

This is my 13th year of being single, and it kinda hurts badly. It's also really hard to talk about it, since hardly anyone understands why I keep feeling deep emotional pain that there is no one to kiss me on the lips to wish "good morning" or no one I can pull into my arms for a loving embrace and think I will never want to let go.

[miekasa]

six thirty

+ pairing: armin arlert x (fem) reader

+ genres and warnings: college au, enemies to lovers… kinda… in a very nerdy academic rivalry kind of way, me being a comedian you’re welcome, fluff, smut/nsfw content

+ word count: 5.6k… pls say sike

+ notes: shout out to ryn​​ for listening to me during our very many rambling sessions and also for extorting me into posting this. consider it a late birthday present for my favorite menace </2

+ side notes: no i am not a part of armin nation and i never want to be, nor do i wish speak of this again.

Armin Arlert is the perfect student. Prompt and well prepared during lecture; smart and insightful during office hours; the apple of any teacher’s eye. Unfortunately for him, so are you.

If you asked Armin, you were a little too clever for your own good, and liked to make it very well known that you believe you’re the smartest person in any room you walk into. That may be true, but it doesn’t mean that he has to sit there and worship your superiority complex. 

If someone asked you, you’d say that Armin was a know it all, and a manipulative little piece of shit. Again, not a completely false statement, but perhaps a slightly biased character analysis.

Neither of you are wrong. It’s why you’re both the bane of each other’s existence.  

There’s a noticeable grimace on your face, chin in your palm, elbows resting atop your desk, as you turn your head to where, sure enough, Armin is seated where he always is: first row, right side, directly in front of the podium, like perfect little teacher’s pet he wants to be. He doesn’t have any books to unpack like everybody else because a shiny, blue iPad is propped up on his desk in place of all of that. He’s robably looking through his pre-written list of showboaty questions to ask during lecture. Like he’s a cut above everyone else.  

Maybe some of the other morons in this course, but not you, that’s for damn sure. You bet that if you broke his thousand dollar tablet he wouldn’t think he’s such hot shit anymore. Maybe that would knock him down a couple of pegs.

“Look at him sitting there with his stupid blue eyes, and his stupid Bieber haircut, and his stupid, shiny blonde hair, and his stupid fucking glasses. I bet they’re not even real and he just wears them to—”

“Did you just call his hair shiny?”

You snap your head to your left, “What—no, of course not. I said shoddy, he’s probably a bottle blonde. Maybe all the chemicals from the hair dye seeps into his head and warps his sense of reality.”

“I’m pretty sure you said shiny.”

“Shut up, Annie.”

She raises an eyebrow at you, “You got something against blondes? Because your track record would beg to differ.”

“Once. We kissed once, and it was truth or dare, and we were both sloshed.”

“You still chose me,” she reminds you, pulling her notebook out of her backpack.

You huff, ignoring her words and turning your head back to Armin, this time finding him twirling his stupid fucking expensive Apple Pencil between his fingers like it’s nothing. You can feel your eye begin to twitch.

Perhaps he can, too—or maybe he can just feel your eyes boring holes into him—because he turns in your direction and ceases his pen twirling the moment you make eye-contact. More students filter in, walking past your line of vision, but each time they move, you and Armin meet gazes again; neither one of you daring to look away, a palpable tension between you.

His eyes might be icy blue, but you can see the rose pink tint underneath his skin, even from the distance; a familiar blush that spreads across his nose and cheeks. You exhale with a silent laugh, breaking your eye contact before he grows completely red, just in time for Dr. Zöe to start the lecture.

Everybody thinks that Armin’s so brilliant, so smart, so untouchable. You know that his only genius is that he’s fooling everyone into thinking that he’s the kind, humble, little nerd boy who wouldn’t harm a fly, when that’s far from the truth.

Armin is mean. He’s competitive and possessive and snarky and sly. He’s the definition of a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but you’re pretty sure the only person in the world who might believe that is Eren. Though, you’ve heard some of the insults Armin throws Eren’s way, and they’re not exactly soft. Granted, that’s a factor in any friendship, and most of his jabs are coated with a layer of intellect the brunette likely doesn’t understand, but that doesn’t make Armin any less sarcastic. It just means Eren’s too dumb to know what’s going on.

Poor kid. Maybe it’s for the best.

That’s all to say that Armin is nothing but a big talker—not even; a smooth-talker, is more like it. He comes across as perfect, all good and sweet and soft, because that’s what he lets people see. Nobody else looks through to the sharp tongue and ragged edges, because they’re too busy cooing over innocent blue-eyed baby in front of them.

But you know that Armin, the one he doesn’t want other people to see: the one that’s so good, he’s bad; so sweet that he’s sick; so nice that it’s cruel. And you know just how much pressure to apply to make his façade crack.

And you intend on doing so.

“I don’t know which formula to use—hey, are you two eye fucking again? Cut it out, I’m trying not to fail over here,” Eren exclaims, poking Armin’s shoulder with his pen.

The jab averts the blonde’s attention back to his friend, eyes wide as he blinks himself back to reality. He curses under his breath when he feels a familiar warmth creeping across his cheeks. Few things piss Armin off like the way he gets red in the face after thinking about you, or even just looking at you, for too long. Whether it’s red out of pure annoyance, or another feeling he tries to push down, it’s irritating, and above all, embarrassing.

He spares one more glance over his shoulder, to where you and Annie are sat a few tables away in the library. You’ve looked away by now, focusing back on your notes, but Armin swears he can still see that irritating smirk on your face from this angle.

He rolls his tongue along the inside of his cheek. He should be able to keep it together around you by now, but he can’t, and it bothers him. You bother him.

“We weren’t eye fucking,” he refutes, turning his back to you completely, “She’s such a little know it all sometimes, s’annoying.”

Eren raises an eyebrow. He knows that you and Armin don’t get along, but he doesn’t understand why. Armin knows almost all your friends, and you definitely know all of his—Eren would even go as far as to say that you and him are pretty close friends—so it’s not a matter of not spending time together. You’re also the two smartest people Eren knows. In theory you should have more than enough to talk about together, but every time you’re in the same room, you hardly acknowledge each other outside of surface level commentary, or glances that border on staring.

Thankfully, the bickering remains in the classroom for the most part. Eren’s seen you and Armin go at, and he’ll be the first to admit that it’s beyond intimidating. Though, a little part of him finds it oddly entertaining, and he can’t help but to be impressed. All the more reason for you two to start playing on the same team. 

Eren thinks the two of you should get to the root of the issue already. Which, if you asked him, has very little to do with your rivaled academic genius, and a lot to do with your lack of it concerning your feelings for each other.

“She’s not that bad,” Eren vouches for you, “I think you two might get along if you ever spoke outside of trying to one-up each other in class.”

“I’m not trying to one-up anybody,” Armin rolls his eyes, a nasty habit he’s picked up as of late, “And if you stopped and used your brain for a moment, then maybe you could solve the problem.”

“I did use my brain!” Eren’s lips fall into an offended pout, “But none of this makes any sense to me! I fucking hate math, you know that.”

Armin sighs, feeling sympathetic for Eren as he slumps into himself defeatedly. He knows that Eren isn’t dumb, but math in any capacity is certainly not his strong suit. He also knows that he shouldn’t give Eren all the answers, but sometimes he needs a little push to get him there. A little bit of added guidance and motivation to keep him going. It’s either that, or he has to trick Eren into doing the work himself, but clearly that method wasn’t working out today.

“You already solved for the activation energy, now you’re supposed to use the Arrhenius equation in the expanded form.”

Eren’s lips fall into a small o-shape, as his eyes scramble across his paper again. “But—how do you—”

“There’s two measurements given for temperature.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah! Okay, right, but then—”

“You have to convert it to Kelvin first or it won’t work. It’s given to you in Celsius.”

Eren furrows his eyebrows together, and then it finally clicks for him. He mutters to himself as he puts his pencil to paper to begin to work through the problem, “How do I convert—”

“Add 273.15 to it. Make sure you put the bigger one first in the equation, or else you’ll get a negative error.”

“You didn’t even do it,” Eren huffs, angrily punching numbers into his calculator, “How do you know it’s right?”

“Because I took this class already,” Armin reminds him, sparing a brief glance over his shoulder, “Isn’t that why I’m tutoring you?”

Eren coughs over his embarrassed blush, “Oh, yeah, right.”

It’s quiet between them as Eren makes a final attempt at solving the equation, carefully and proudly circling his answer when he’s finished. He looks to Armin with bright eyes, and is content when the blonde gives him a reassuring nod, confirming that his answer is correct.

“Well that was a bitch to work through,” Eren sighs, stretching his arms behind his head with a slight yawn, “Chemistry is nothing but glorified math. It’s barely a science.”

Armin shrugs, but he doesn’t disagree. He isn’t the biggest fan of chemistry, unlike somebody else he knows. “Why’d you take chem if you knew it would have so much math?”

It’s Eren’s turn to shrug, slumping back in his chair and running a hand through his hair, “I gotta take all the pre-med requirements… just in case.”

“You wanna go to med school? Since when?”

Eren averts his eyes from his friend, a telltale sign of his bashfulness coming over him. It doesn’t happen often, but Armin knows it’s sincere when it does.

“Dunno. I’m not sure of it, just wanna keep my options open, you know?” Eren replies casually, “Doctors help make a difference and all that, and surgery looks kind of cool. Besides, if my bastard father could do it, how hard could it really be?”  

A gentle smile grows on Armin’s lips, “You can do it. If you really want to, I know you can.”  

Eren’s head snaps up, eyes wide and filled with affirmation and adoration. He relaxes his expression quickly after, but the pink hues are still present, “Thanks, Min.”

From his position he catches eye of another head of familiar blonde hair over Armin’s shoulder, and beside it, your own hair. There’s a flash of a moment when your eyes meet Eren’s, and you offer him a small wave before turning back to Annie to resume doing your homework. Eren barely gets the chance to wave back, but a dopey smile sits on his features at your kind gesture. It fades when he looks back to Armin, once again pondering the animosity between you two.

You and Armin aren’t all that different, you just need to get to know each other better. Actually, Eren thinks that you might make a good couple if you both stopped overthinking it.

“So, what’s the deal with you and (_____)?” Eren asks, bending his right knee to wrap his arm around his leg and rest his chin on top of it, “You act like she kicked your cat.”

“What?” Armin questions, flustered, “What—no, she wouldn’t touch Soup.” 

Eren quirks an eyebrow at that. “I still can’t believe you named your cat Soup.”

“It’s technically a nickname.”

“A nickname for what?”

“…For Miso Soup.”

Eren blinks. “Okay, if she didn’t mess with Soup, then what’s the issue? You scared of her or something?”

“Why would I be scared of her?” Armin asks, tone incredulous; then softer, more subdued, like a kid who doesn’t want to admit they’re wrong, “’M not scared of her.”

“You stare at her like you are—well, you look kind of angry, but also scared. Like, when you see those balloon things outside of car washes. You hate them, but you can’t look away from them—”

“I am not scared of those!”

“You are, and it’s okay,” Eren waves away his friend’s denial, “Oh, I get it—is this one of those things where she makes you nervous, so you respond with anger and sarcasm instead of thinking through your feelings?”

“You’ve been going to therapy for one month, relax.”

“Maybe you two should go to friend therapy and work this out,” Eren bites back, “It probably doesn’t help that she’s always with Annie. They both look like they would murder someone with no remorse. I admit, it is kind of scary… but it’s kind of hot, too.”

Armin spares him an unamused glare. Eren crosses his arms in defense, “What? I’m not wrong. It’s sexy in a scary kind of way, maybe that’s why you’re always eye fucking. I don’t blame you, she’s hot. I would let her and Annie axe-murder me without regret.”

“Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and do problem six, I don’t have all day.”

Eren huffs, but flips the page to the next problem, grumbling under his breath as he attempts the, “It’s not as sexy when you’re mean, you know.”

Armin hits him silent.

Tuesdays are Armin’s favorite days because he only has one class. Sure, it’s three hours long, but it’s much more bearable than his usual eight-hour day.

It’s also the one class he shares with you. Which is why he’s always mentally exhausted by the end of it, but physically, he feels like he could punch a wall; all his pent up anger and frustration is channeled into his body and he’s desperate for an outlet for it. It’s a feeling he hates to love.

Annie seems to have cut class today seeing as she’s not next to you; and it’s almost as if it’s emboldened you to mess with him even more than usual.

He bites his tongue as Dr. Zöe enthusiastically uses your latest point as a segue into the final topic of the evening. He made that same point ten minutes ago. You just worded it differently—admittedly, more concisely, but somehow with a little more nuance, than when he had hesitantly proposed it—and, yeah, maybe you made it sound more convincing, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t come up with it first. If his stupid, fancy stylus didn’t cost upwards of $200 he might have snapped it in half.

You’re definitely the better conversationalist, that much he can admit. Words have never been his forte and he hates the way you can talk circles around him, and that there’s so little he can say to make you stop.

He wishes you would just shut up. In fact, he’d like to shut you up himself.

Thankfully, class ends sooner rather than later. Armin finds himself briefly talking with Dr. Zöe afterwards, most other students having taken the opportunity to leave early for the night. To nobody’s surprise, you’re not one of them, having stuck around to talk to the professor, too.

“The two of you should consider lab research this summer,” Dr. Zöe suggests ardently, walking between the two of you as you exit the lecture hall, “I could really use two students like you!”

Armin chuckles at his boisterous professor. He’s known about the research opportunities at their lab for quite some time now, and he knows that you have, too. “I don’t know that lab work is really my strong suit.”

The three of you come to stop at the hallway intersection, the professor now standing across from you and him. You give them a polite smile, “And I’m not sure that collaboration is mine.”

Armin spares a glance just in time to see you flash one of your own in his direction. Dr. Zöe’s eyes flicker between the two students rapidly, a slight squint to their eyelids.

They aren’t quite sure why their two brightest students seem to despise each other. They wish you two would just get along already, so that they don’t have to spend the summer training half-witted chemical engineering majors how to use basic lab equipment; and instead, conduct some actual research.

“Well, I hope the both of you reconsider,” they smile, “I’ll see you during office hours, I presume?”

You two nod in sync, sending the doctor off with happy smile, just long enough until you see that they’ve turned the corner further down the hall

“Had fun stealing my point earlier?” Armin questions, looking your way as you still wave mindlessly, eye-twitching at your polite façade.

“I would call it improvement,” you tell him, not bothering to turn in his direction; still and smiling waving like the professor can see or hear you, “You should stick to showing, rather than saying. You never were good with your words.”

Armin kisses his teeth together. He’ll give you what you want, if that’s how you want it.

In a fit of irritation, he grabs your moving hand by the wrist, and pulls you down the opposite hallway, not caring for your dramatic wailing behind him.

“Hey, Einstein, the exit is the other way, do you have any idea where we’re going?”

“Ever heard of observational learning? Maybe if you shut up for a second, you would figure it out,” he snaps, pulling you further.

There’s a door on the left that Armin knows is unlocked, and he’s quick to open it and pull you inside. Before you have the chance to glance around, he has you pushed up against the wall, jaw forced up and forward.

He could scoff at the small hitch in your breath at his actions, clearly a little too satisfied with being manhandled; but instead, he takes the opportunity to press your lips together. Armin quite likes the feeling of your lips on his; warm and soft and far too welcoming; a rare moment of silence.

“Someone could hear us.”

Or not so silent.

“Then be quiet,” he snarls.

Armin feels your fingers weave themselves into his hair, scraping along his undercut in sync with his lips trailing down your jaw. A groan falls from his when he feels you tug at the ends of the strands, just hard enough to force his face back to eye level with yours.

“You’re the one with the big mouth.”

“You’re so smart, huh. Always got something to say,” Armin lets out a low chuckle, deft fingers running down your sides to squeeze at your waist, “You can be really fuckin’ annoying, you know that.”

You mirror half of his ministrations, letting your right hand trail down his chest barely brushing over the very visible bulge in his jeans, before hooking your index finger under the belt loop, effectively pulling him closer to you.

The smile on your face is dirty, but you’re not laughing like he was, “Do something about it then.”

His blue eyes grow cloudy as he takes a good look at you; slowly rakes over your features, from that stupid, snarky look in your eyes, to your kiss-bruised lips, down to your chest, and back up again. Armin finds himself copying your smirk for all the wrong reasons. But it’s your own fault; you always did like to push him one step over the edge.

“Fine.”

Despite your twisted grin there’s a look in your eyes that’s eager; willing; ready for the taking. That same look you have when you talk over him in class; when you pretend to ignore him around your mutual friends; when you want him to fuck you stupid.

Armin uses his right hand to cup your jaw again, closing the distance between your mouths with a less than gentle kiss. He feels your groans reverberating through his body, waves of heat accompanying them and going straight to his erection. Your arch your back into the kiss, but he forces you backwards, left hand flat against your tummy.

Following suit, he pushes himself against your body, pressing his knee between your legs; the thin fabric of your stockings doing little to prevent your thighs from rubbing against him.

He swipes his tongue over the seam of your lips, earning a frenzied whine when glides his tongue across yours, and teasingly licks at the roof of your mouth. Your tongue is lithe against his, but somehow just as deceptive and sly as always, and Armin would be a fool to deny that he loved it.

There’s a spark flickering in his stomach when you push your center harshly against his; and it’s only ignited further when he feels you bite his bottom lip. A guttural growl escapes him, his right hand moving to your throat with practiced ease, pushing the back of your head into the wall.

He pauses for a moment, drinks in your wide eyes and desperate visage, “You are the single most frustrating person I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

And he couldn’t get enough of it if he tried. He couldn’t get enough of you.

You must see through his words, into the grainy expression of adoration in his eyes, because he can see it filtering into yours, pupils dilating with both want and care.

“Aw, baby, I love you, too,” you pout, leaning forward as best to can to peck him on the lips, “Now, shut me up and fuck me. It’s exhausting being this pretty and smart-mouthed, you know.”

Armin dips his head into your neck, squeezes against the column of your throat with warning until he hears a gasp escape from your lips. He presses gentle kisses into your skin, in stark contrast to the increasing pressure from his fingers, waiting for one last request, and then, finally—“Please.”

He smiles, loosens his grip for a moment, just long enough to hear your pretty panting, before slotting his lips against yours again. Your moans are lewd and sloppy and breathless between kisses, and it makes his dick twitch in his pants. You really are so fucking loud. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He uses his free hand to push your skirt up, and subsequently dip past the weak barrier of your tights and underwear. The slightest flicker of his fingers against your center has you choking out a moan, and Armin is forced to press his right thumb harder against your neck.

“Quiet,” he reminds you, “You asked nicely, so I’ll give you what you want. No need to be loud about it.”

He watches you nod with short and restricted movements, a sadistic kind of power washing over him at your eager compliance. He uses his middle finger to rub slow, careful circles around your clit; the feeling of your wet cunt against his fingers, coupled with your wanton moaning only spurs on the throbbing in his pants.

“Armin,” you whine, impatiently; but he expected that of you, “Don’t tease.”

His eyes flash to yours briefly, pressing his lips to yours again to swallow your shuddered moans. He dips his tongue into your mouth at the same time he does his middle finger into your cunt. An obscene moan echoing through the classroom, as Armin feels your body arching into his again; feels your fingers frantically flying to his hair, searching for purchase to anchor yourself on.

He pulls away in time to add another digit and watch you groan underneath him. He pushes both his fingers in to the knuckle, carefully curling them upwards to elicit the prettiest sound out of you. He has to admit, it’s probably his favorite thing to hear come out of your mouth.

He keeps a steady pace, pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy with perfect friction, teetering between letting you moan his name and choking you silent. Your hands are frantic in his hair, grasping and pulling and so, so, desperate, Armin can’t help but to finger fuck you harder.

“You want one more?” he questions, but his voice is taunting, words ghosted over your lips just out of reach for you to kiss.

He can feel your leg trembling against his, see you pupils shaking along with your shaking head. Armin stops to smile; he thought you might do that. He could probably make you cry right now if he wanted to. Maybe later.

“Want you to fuck me,” your words short and ragged, eyebrows raised when he uses his thumb to press lightly against your clit, “Armin, please.”

The blonde shakes his head, “You’re dumber than you look if you think I’m gonna fuck you in a classroom, baby, so if you want to cum now, you better tell me.”

You have the audacity to pout of all things, “You’re mean.”

Armin lets out a breathless laugh. “You like it,” he leans forward to peck you sweetly, “So, what’ll it be?”

“Fine, but I want head later, too,” you tell him, words becoming less firm when Armin teases his ring finger against your slit, “Please.”

Armin hums in compliance, leaning forward to kiss you again, this time with more tact, and he chases your whines when he finally pushes a third finger inside of you.

“Look at you,” he croons breaking your kiss and forcing your head back again, “You take it so well.”

“Ah—fuck, there, Armin—there,” you cry, wet heat squeezing around his fingers in intermittent spasms.

Armin watches your chest heave with desperate breaths, air stuttering to pass from your lips to your lungs with his hand around your neck. He can feel your walls constricting around his fingers, feel your body shaking underneath him when he increases his pace. He curls his fingers again, just right, just until he hears you sing a strained call of his name. And when he feels your nails scraping down the nape of his neck, and the slight weight of your body convulsing, Armin knows you’re done for.

He’s nice enough to fuck you through your orgasm, shallow thrusts of his fingers bringing you to and down from your high as he watches you pant for him. He presses small kisses against your throat, up, up, up, until he’s kissing you, and carefully pulling his fingers out.

He removes his hand from your neck, and slides it down your waist to offer you support. He’s not prepared for your sudden pull on his neck, forcing him into a kiss that conveys your content; he’s quick to raise his left hand, palm meeting the wall to hold himself up against your sporadic actions, chuckling lightly into your kiss. You were always so reckless and happy after an orgasm.

You kiss him like you have him wrapped your finger despite being the one pleading moments ago. You do, so he supposes it’s not unwarranted; and he welcomes your flirtatious kisses despite the annoying blush they always bring forth.

And sure enough, he can feel his face on fire when you pull away. Armin scoffs internally at himself; he really should be able to keep it together around you by now. But when you kiss him like that, you kind of make it hard to think straight.

“You’re so good when you’re not… pretending to be good,” you hum, a blissful, hazy look on your features as you wrap your arms around his neck.

Armin shakes his head with a chortle of disbelief; leans forward to kiss you again, “’M not pretending. I am good.”

“Yeah, you’re such a good little saint that arguing with your girlfriend turns you on,” you taunt him, “It’s okay, Armin, you can admit it.”

He groans, out of shallow annoyance this time, and it makes you giggle. “Why are you acting like you’re not complicit in this?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” you refute with an exaggerated roll of your eyes, “You get turned on by hearing me talk about biochemistry. I like it when you tell me to shut up about it. We are not the same.”

“Yeah, because you look hot doing it,” he tells you, “Speaking of which, Eren called you hot today, so I kind of need you to slip a neurotoxin in his Gatorade.”

“Aw, Eren thinks I’m hot? Tell him I think he’s hot, too,” you bat your eyelashes at him, but Armin only offers you an unimpressed glare in return.

“I think he might be onto us, actually,” Armin notes, affectionately bumping his nose against yours.

“If he’s onto us, then it’s because you’re the one giving it away, not me.”

“Oh, because you could never do anything wrong, right?”

“Right,” you flash him an overconfident smile before reaching up to kiss to the tip of his nose, “See you’re so smart, baby.”

Armin shakes his head again in disbelief. You’re a handful, he can see that much.

“Come on,” he prompts, “We should go, I still have to finish my lab write up, and I know you haven’t started your paper.”

Armin tries to motion you forward, but is stopped when he feels your hand combing through his hair, and sees the genuine spark of concern in your eyes. “The one for your elective? I thought you said you were going to finish it on Monday.”

“I was,” Armin admits, “But then I didn’t.”

“You want me to help you with it?” you offer kindly, pushing his bangs back and letting your hands fall down the sides of his face, palms resting against his ears.

He nods gently, turning his head to press a kiss into your left palm, before wrapping his hand around your wrist, “I can help you outline your paper.”

You nod in return, and Armin spares one more kiss, before pulling your hand away to lace your fingers together.

Thankfully, nobody’s around to catch you exiting the classroom, or see you holding hands as you make your way out of the building and towards the bus stop. This was Armin’s favorite part of any Tuesday; the one time he could hold your hand on campus without the fear of getting caught by your friends.

He reasons that you guys should probably tell them soon, though, especially if Eren might have an idea of what’s going on. You were bound to get caught sooner rather than later. That, or Eren and Sasha would start meddling.

“If you think Eren knows, then Mikasa definitely knows,” you note, swinging your intertwined hands as you walk through the parking lot as a shortcut.

“Maybe if you actually remembered to hide Soup’s toys, there would be less evidence for her to piece together.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if you didn’t forget when your midterms are, I wouldn’t have to emergency cat sit the hour before Mikasa comes around, and there wouldn’t be any toys to hide in the first place.”

“I’m bad with dates, you know that!” Armin pouts, “I don’t say anything when you forget about ten page papers until four hours before they’re due.”

“You’re saying something right now, actually.”

“That’s not what I—you know, you’re so—”

Armin’s quiet when he feels your lips pressed against his cheekily, “Annoying. I know. You like it. You’re not very good at staying mad for very long.”

Armin’s tempted to roll his eyes yet again—he really needs to quit it, or at the very least, get your own temper under control before it’s irreversible and completely rubbed off on him—but takes the opportunity to kiss your forehead, instead.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Your eyes twinkle under his affections. “And that you love me?”

He nods, “And that I love you.”

“And that you’re gonna fuck me before you make me write my paper when we get home, right?”

Armin chuckles and presses another kiss to your forehead, “We’ll see about that one.”

Hange huffs as they make their way through the parking. They always forget their keys in their office, and always, inconveniently park half-way across the campus. In their defense, this parking lot is free, and the one closest to the Medical Sciences building is not. So, really, capitalism is the one to blame for their frequent late night car lot strolls.

They hear two familiar voices bickering just as they’re about to step into their car, and are more than surprised to see their two favorite students walking together. Walking together and holding hands. Wait—you and Armin are walking together and holding hands?

Hange blinks for a moment, drowning out the sounds of the conversation after they see you two kiss. Their jaw practically falls to the asphalt and they might not blink for a full two minutes as they process what they just saw.

Their trance is broken when it finally, finally clicks together, and Hange has to try their hardest to contain their squeals before sitting in the driver’s seat, an overly forceful slam to the car door following. They waste no time fumbling with the pockets of their lab coat to fish out their phone, and make a call to their favorite math professor.

“Levi, I told you Arlert and (_____) had to know each other outside of class! I think they might be dating! You know what this means, right? I can have them both in the same lab without worrying they might start a chemical fire, and I won’t have to hire two brick heads this summer!”

Levi has never hung up a call more quickly in his life.

[absolutelyfizzing]

unwanted feelings

james potter x reader

description - You'd had a crush on James Potter for years and when he kisses Lily Evans in front of you, you are heart broken. Later you find that he didn't actually feel as you expected and he explains himself.

warnings - some angst, unsure reader, fem pronouns, self doubt, negative self talk, not eating for a day cause reader is avoiding someone

word count - 2800

A/N - so this one isn't my best work by far but i wrote it so looks like its getting posted. i don't know why all of my reader inserts lately are so fem and sort of bubbly, i guess it's sort of what i'm aiming for for myself right now but i'm sorry if it maybe isn't coming off as relatable.

MASTERLIST

Your throat tightened in anxiety as you watched James zoom around the pitch. He was reckless when he was playing quidditch and it was one of the things that made him great at the game and an excellent captain. It was also the thing that nearly gave you a heart attack every time you watched him play. You went to every one of his games and you always wore something of his with his colors when you were in the stands. You were stood up on your seat and a slightly bored looking Remus sat to your right, reading from a book you didn't recognize. You'd thought that Sirius playing would be enough to keep him interested but sports was just not something he enjoyed watching. You were usually that way as well but whenever James was playing, suddenly you were the most intent spectator in the stands.

You were more worried than you should have been. More worried than what was appropriate for a friend to be. That's what you were, friends. That had been reinforced many times by the shaggy haired boy and you tried desperately to get it through your head before you embarrassed yourself one of these days. Sometimes though, you just couldn't help it.

Really you might have thought he reciprocated if you didn't know any better. You often got comments on what an attractive couple you guys were but each time it was quickly corrected by James. Normally along the lines of 'Oh god no, we are just friends. Purely platonic' , sometimes followed by a shudder or a gag even. It upset you every time to no end but you played along. You rarely, if ever, contributed to the shooting down of any feelings but that was never noticed by the man you had feelings for.

You'd had a crush on him since you were probably in your second year and now you were coming to the middle of your seventh. There were a million times that you almost said something but every time there was a reminder that you were not the one he had eyes for. It usually took the shape of disgust at the thought of dating you or commentary as he pined over the Evans girl who you felt you could never compete with. How could you when she was just perfect. You saw her to the left of you as she stood in the stands as well and your hands shook with insecurity before looking back toward the game. Your heart raced nearly as quickly as James did around the pitch and you prayed that the snitch would be caught soon so that you could get rid of the stress surrounding you. You felt a hand on your right shoulder and you looked over to find Remus had stood and was looking at you caringly.

"Are you alright, Y/N?" He asked softly and you tried your very best to soften your gaze and calm your stance so you appeared less concerned with someone that you shouldn't have that much interest in in the first place.

"Of course I am. When am I not?" You smiled before looking out at the pitch.

"When youre watching the guy you're in love with play a dangerous game that you don't like." He stated simply in response to the question you meant to be rhetorical and your eyes widened.

"I don't know what youre talking about." You nearly whispered and Remus smiled.

"I'm not gonna tell anyone Y/N but its not exactly subtle. It probably doesn't help that I know the look on your face because it's how I feel too watching Sirius play." He was still smirking but your anxiety was far from eased.

"Oh god, does he know?" You asked scaredly, terrified that the answer would be yes and you would have to stop spending time with him.

"Shockingly, no." You sighed out in relief but Remus continued. "You should tell him though or else he might end up moving on."

"What do you mean? There's nothing for him to move on from. Everyone knows he's in love with Evans and he has made it pretty clear that he is opposed to being anything more than a friendly relationship with me." You choked out, struggling with the words leaving your lips but knowing them to be true.

"I mean he has a minor crush on Evans but it's nothing compared to the annoyingly huge crush he has on you. He's probably just overcompensating for the fact that he's insecure and doesn't want you to reject him."

"Why are you telling me this?" You asked sincerely. You were friends with Remus as you were with the rest of the marauders but it was nothing compared to the friendship they held within their group. You knew Remus was more loyal to James than to you so you couldn't understand why, if it was true, Remus would be telling you at all.

"Because he is trying desperately to move on seeing as he is under the impression that you aren't into him and I'd hate to see him throw something away that could be really good for him." Remus smiled gently and you looked at him gratefully.

"I really appreciate you telling me and all but I just don't think I can believe you. I can't even count how many times he has made a big show of not liking me. I love him too much to ruin what we have and I know that if I confessed and it went bad that I would lose him all together. I would rather have him in my life in a way that hurts than not have him in it at all." You stated sadly and Remus sighed but nodded in understanding.

"I get it but just know that I'm being honest and pretty soon he is going to give up on it. I just want to see you both happy but if its too big of a leap, I understand. That's exactly the excuse he tells the rest of us too."

Suddenly cheers erupted from the stands, cutting your conversation with Remus off as everyone ran to rush the pitch. The snitch had been caught and gryffindor won. You were excited for James but you were also a little terrified to walk onto the pitch to see him with the now conflicted thoughts running through your head. Your thoughts were stopped by the image in front of you which was causing the whole crowd to cheer. James had pulled Lily Evans into a kiss in his excitement and your heart stopped. You felt nausea rise in your throat and Remus caught your eye with a sympathetic look. You didn't look at him for longer than a second and you ran off the pitch with tears streaming down your face. You found your way up to your dorm, pushing yourself to get there quickly before the common room filled with students celebrating their victory. James was always one to love attention so he would be getting crazy after the game which he did just about every time they won.

When you made it to your bed, you hurried under the covers, throwing the shirt you were wearing which belonged to James onto the floor. You felt your heart clench at the despair you felt. You wanted to be upset at Remus for getting your hopes up but you knew he was sincere in his want to help. Still you felt that you would probably not be able to face James in the weeks to come. Maybe, given a little time, you could be around him and not be upset at the world for taking away your chance with him. As you laid in your bed, you stared at the ceiling. You felt tears streaming down your face and you grew angry at yourself. He didn't owe you anything, he wasn't into you. That wasn't his fault and it was so unfair of you to expect anything more from him when your feelings were not his responsibility.

You weren't sure how long you laid there but you could hear the party start and end in the common room. It must have been late. Sleep wouldnt come though, you could just feel your heart continue to break and you were stuck in a loop of self pity. You made the decision that the following days would be spent away from James if you could at all help it. That was probably what he wanted anyway and it was the only way that you would get over the pain you were feeling. At some point your roomates entered your dorm and sleep overtook you for a few restless hours.

When you woke up, the sun was barely on the rise. You hurried up and got dressed and ready. You were planning on getting to breakfast early to avoid running into any of the marauders. You found your plans were not going how you wanted when you entered the great hall to find a head of red hair next to a mop of black. Your throat tightened and you quickly moved to turn and head out of the great hall. You heard a familiar voice call your name but you rushed out before you could give it too much thought. You knew that if you let him try to convince you, you would end up having a very upsetting breakfast with your best friend and his new lover. You would rather avoid breakfast.

Throughout the day, avoiding James was proving to be harder than you had thought it would be. You had many of your classes with him and you even sat next to him in a few. He was insistently trying to get you to open up about why you were suddenly so closed off to him but you remained shut off, reassuring him that nothing was wrong and you were just a little tired from the game the day before. You avoided lunch for the same reason as you had avoided breakfast and you felt yourself starting to get a bit lightheaded. Your afternoon was spent avoiding James but soon he was preoccupied with Lily anyway.

You were hid in a corner of the library when a cough alerted you of someone's presence. You looked up to find the very eyes you hadn't wanted to see.

You pushed it down with a gulp and smiled a bit at him, trying desperately to keep the tears at bay but they were growing harder to hold back after keeping everything pent up all day. It probably didn't help that you were hungry and therefor a bit more emotional. You could feel the tears sitting in your eyes, waiting for something to go wrong so they had an excuse to escape you.

"I don't know what I did wrong." He mumbled while looking at the floor in front of you and you took a deep breath.

"There's nothing wrong James, I promise. It's just been a long day." You smiled and your heart picked up speed.

"Since when did we lie to each other?" He questioned and your heart stopped. You were left unsure how to respond.

"Since the truth would cause more damage than good." You spoke honestly. At this he looked up at you and your eyes met. A tear left you and James immediately moved to comfort you but you tried to move away, standing quickly to evade him. You regretted it as spots filled your vision, the lack of food catching up to you. You know that you turned a bit green for a moment because James looked slightly scared.

"Y/N I dont know whats wrong but you look like you should be getting to the hospital wing. You don't look well."

Before you could answer you felt your vision blacken and your legs give out before your consciousness left you completely.

When you woke up, you knew you were in the hospital wing. It smelled sterile and the bed was stiff underneath you. When you started to wake madam pomfrey came to check on you.

"You can't go around with an empty stomach like that again, do you hear me?" She scolded, though her eyes were soft. You nodded solemnly. "I was alerted that you hadn't been to the great hall to eat all day, you have to know that isn't good for you. I'm gonna have a prefect watch out for you the next couple days to make sure you're eating at meal times. Understood?" She asked again and once more you nodded before leaning back and sighing. You looked at your surroundings and were surprised to see the black haired boy next to your bed fast asleep. Your heart took off again and you felt trapped by your environment. As anxiety swirled around in your chest, James had woken up a bit.

"You're awake." James sighed, laced with relief. You still wouldn't make eye contact with him.  You felt the bed dip as he sat on it and you looked up to watch him put his head in his hands as he leaned over. You felt guilt fill your chest more than it already had from hating that you felt any claim over the man in front of you. You knew you were in the wrong and the last thing you wanted was to cause him any pain. "Remus talked to me." He almost whispered.

At that moment, you wished you could have apparated to anywhere else in the world. You looked back down at your lap and tears were once again brought to your eyes. You felt betrayal that Remus would reveal your feelings to James.

"I'm sorry." You apologized and you fiddled with your fingers.

"Why are you the one apologizing, I'm the one whos behaved poorly." He assures and you shake your head.

"That's not fair to yourself. You're allowed to want to be with whomever you want and my feelings should have no effect on that. You've made it clear for years that you weren't interested in me and it is my fault that I couldn't take a hint. I'm so sorry." You gushed out and tears started to fall from your eyes. You felt James get up from your bed and you prepared him to leave but instead you felt arms wrap around you and a kiss came to your head.

"Y/N I have had feelings for you for years. I was just always too scared for myself to even consider that you might feel the same." He whispered out but you felt only a different kind of pain. Even though he had now admitted his feelings, he was still dating Lily. Not you. Almost as if he could hear your thoughts he spoke quietly. "I broke it off with Evans." You pulled away immediately.

"What? Why would you do that?" You asked quickly and before he had a chance to answer you feared the worst. "Oh god is it because of me? James please dont let my feelings have any bearing on who you want to date, I can't stand the thought of being the reason you broke up. Even if we do have feelings for each other, you deserve a chance with Lily if that's what you want."

"It was mutual, actually. She understood that I had feelings for you and she said she had a crush on someone else. It just seemed like I had kissed her a bit rashly on the quidditch pitch and we agreed that we shouldn't have gotten together in the first place. It was only a day anyway." He reassured as he explained himself and you calmed a bit.

"So what does this mean." You got out, almost inaudibly.

"It means that, if you'll have me, I'd like to take you out on a date." He stated as if it were the simplest thing in the world and you almost couldn't believe your ears. Before you were even thinking you were nodding quickly, causing spots to once again fill your vision and James grabbed your shoulders to stabilize you before you both laughed. He pulled you by your shoulders toward him and he caught your lips in a kiss that somehow expressed all of the years of repressed feelings. When he pulled away he smiled at you and sat back on your bed. He spent the rest of the day with you in the hospital wing talking about all of the places he was going to take you in the coming weeks.

[theunquenchablethirst]

Hooked (Jerome X Reader)

Ok, so this is a thing. I was kinda surprised nobody had used this scene yet, because the Gotham fandom seem to collectively agree that Jerome is BIG KINKY and yet the one scene where he canonically has people cuffed up and hung from the ceiling... nobody has touched??? Y'all have been sleeping on that scene! It's fanfic gold! Anyway, enjoy the hedonism. Much love xxx

Warning: SMUT, 18+, GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT, BDSM, bondage, cuffs, dom/sub, vaginal fingering, oral sex, biting, spanking, slapping, pussy slapping, light choking, spitting, belt whipping, praise/degradation, marking, mention of scratching, Jerome is big meanie pants mean man

The new mayor of Gotham is having a meeting with his council members, but things take a turn when the Legion of Horribles show up to kidnap them and reader. When the victims are being unloaded from the truck, Jerome Valeska notices reader, because she isn't exactly on the guest list.

Tag list of lovelies: @gabile18 @valeskaduh @fangirl--writes @persephoneblck

Masterlist

I had been working as a housekeeper for the new mayor. It was a good job, but I wasn't appreciated. I was just there to clean and serve when needed. I don't think he even knew my name. I was just hired help to him. To all of them.

He was hosting a dinner for his council that day. I had been placed in the corner of the room with a bottle of expensive wine where I was to wait until wanted. He gestured for me to come forwards and fill their glasses while they started talking about their displeasure with the rising foul play in the city, like it was anything new for Gotham. The chairwoman wanted to know what he was going to do about it. Very little in my opinion. He was just coasting. In too deep over his head. He had been appointed far too fast and everyone knew it. He wasn't going to last.

He made an attempt to save face and talk about how he too was disturbed by the recent goings on and was doing everything he could. Trash, utter trash. As he rose from his seat, the lights fizzled out. I stopped pouring. Had this been any other city I would have assumed it was a simple power outage, but nothing was that simple in Gotham. The security guard closed us in and went to see what was happening. The air turned icy. No, this was not good. Gunshots and screams came from the hallway and everyone rose from the table terrified. We quickly started walking towards a door hoping to make an escape, but there was something about the windows. They were freezing over.

The doors burst open and I dropped the wine. It smashed into pieces as a blueish man in some kind of robotic suit and a weird looking, but huge gun stepped into the room. Was that Victor Fries? Then through the second set of doors another man in a top hat who I recognised as Jervis Tetch burst in with some other strange looking friends.

Before I could comprehend the situation, we were all being cuffed and taken outside. Our kidnappers pushed and pulled us towards a huge truck, all the while the mayor tried to buy his way free. He was showing just how little he really knew about the underbelly of Gotham. I knew just by looking at them that they were probably Arkham escapees and couldn't be bought like a sane man could. They had their own plans and you can't bargain with crazies.

We got to the truck and they opened the back door. My blood ran cold when I saw that standing there waiting for us was Jerome Valeska. Of all the criminals Gotham had seen he had been the only one that had scared me, truly and thoroughly. He didn't have any kind of reason for what he did. He just enjoyed death and chaos. And after his last escapade he looked like madness personified, his scars circling his face and eyes and giving him a permanent evil smile. Dread consumed me as I realized that he was no doubt the leader of this operation and if that was true, we were already dead.

I felt myself jolted forwards. The mayor had pushed me in front of the rest of the council to get whatever was coming first. If I wasn't cuffed, I would have turned around and broke his nose. I was lifted into the truck, my hands were pulled above my head and fixed to two hooks. I had to stand on my toes to keep standing which made it awkward and difficult as they pushed me to the back of the truck.

Was that Penguin? What was he doing here? He didn't belong here. I had gone to Penguin looking for a job in his club when I was 16. He was impressed with my audition, but when he asked my age, he rejected me.

"This establishment is not a playground for children. It's a nightclub." He had told me. At the time I had been steaming mad, but in hindsight he was probably right. Even if he was rude. So, after that, I found it hard to understand why he was here and working with Valeska. Maybe he had been kidnapped too?

The rest of the council were loaded on and hooked. The mayor was still trying to offer them money and pardons. When he saw it wasn't working, he resorted to empty, unintimidating threats. Jerome was completely unfazed and even a little disappointed in the lack of smiles.

"Nobody knows how to have fun anymore, right?" He said putting his arm around Penguin. So, he was a part of this.

Jerome pointed to a scary looking figure dressed like a scarecrow. Johnathan Crane? Crane released some kind of purple gas in the face of a member of a council. She started laughing and convulsing violently.

"What have you got to lose? Except your sanity?" Jerome joined in the crazy laughter. So, this was his plan. He'd figured out a way to forcefully drive everyone insane. With a gas.

I silently prayed to God in my mind for any kind of help.

After sufficiently terrifying us half to death, they left us in the back of truck. None of us could say anything and after a few minutes the truck started moving.

"Is she ok?" I asked looking towards the victim of the insanity gas.

"Who cares?! We have to figure out what they want and get out of here." Replied the mayor.

"Maybe they want publicity for whatever that gas is. Offer them some TV time." Guessed the chairwoman.

"Don't you get it?! This isn't a situation you can buy your way out of!" I snapped, frustrated with their idiocy.

"These aren't normal criminals. They don't want your money. They want chaos and madness." They stood there silently stunned. They had never heard me speak with such confidence, but in that moment, they knew I was right.

After what felt like hours the truck finally stopped.

"What's going on?" The mayor whispered.

Everything was quiet. We listened for any noise or sign of life. All we could hear was our own breath.

Then suddenly the doors flung open once again and in hopped Valeska, Tetch and Crane.

"We're here!" Jerome grinned.

The other two started to pull the council one by one off the hooks and walk them out of the truck, closely watched by Jerome. Until they got to me.

"Wait..." He stuck an arm out to stop Tetch from unhooking me.

"Who's she? She wasn't on the party list." He took a few steps closer to me.

"This poor young girl is an unlucky maid. Wrong place, wrong time. Very bad day." Jervis explained looking at me.

"Would you like me to... dispose of her?" Asked Crane, stalking close to me and lifting needle covered fingers to my throat.

"Not so fast, Mr Potato Head." Jerome said pulling him away from me.

He came so close that we were only inches apart. He looked down at me as if he was thinking for a few seconds then smirked and turned around to the others.

"Guys, go and see that our guests are comfortable, will ya? Get everything ready." He ushered them out of the truck. Fear travelled up and down my body. This had all been a bad situation, but being alone with Valeska scared the hell out of me.

"You're lucky I have a soft spot for pretty little girls." He closed the truck doors and turned to look at me.

"Freddy Krueger there... not so much." He relaxed, leaning back against the doors with his hands in his pockets. "You got a name?"

I stayed silent, more out of fear than defiance. He sucked his teeth and stood up straight.

"I get it. You're scared. Who wouldn't be, right?" He started slowly walking closer. "But things will go a lot smoother if you just play nice."

I still couldn't find any words.

"Aw, come on, doll! I'm getting awful lonely over here." He brought his hands up out of his pockets and leaned against a wall of the truck.

He was quiet for a few seconds and I noticed that his eyes were making their way up my legs. Being held up by my wrists on my tip toes had pulled my uniform skirt up and almost all of my thighs were exposed. I blurted out my name in an attempt to distract him from my bare legs. He smiled.

"What a pretty name. Now, was that so hard?" He pushed himself off the wall and came a little closer.

"So, you're the mayor's dust bunny, huh? I gotta say, doll, I can see why he keeps you around." He chuckled, eyeing me.

My whole body flushed and my face turned hot and red.

“But, uh, the thing about mayors in this town, they don’t last very long.”

"Please let me go." I whimpered.

"Oh, but we're having such a good time! Plus, if I did that, you'd scamper off to the GCPD and I can't have good ol' Gordon crashing the party early."

I scoffed at his suggestion. Not likely. I had a distinct distaste for the GCPD. They hadn't helped me when I needed them. I would never need them again.

"What's the matter? He book ya before or something?" Jerome smiled with intrigue.

"My parents... they... did things to us. When I ended up in the hospital one too many times..." Tears stung my eyes as I remembered. "They left me there and disappeared with my little brother. No one ever managed to track them down."

I didn’t fully understand why I was opening up to Jerome, but for a second, I saw a spark of humanity in his eyes. Like he understood my pain. I'd heard his first kill had been his mother, so maybe he did?

"I'd give anything to see him again." I sniffed and a tear rolled down my cheek.

"Yeah, I had shitty parents too." He sighed. "I killed them both."

I had thought about what I would do if I ever saw my parents again. What I would say, what I would ask. I could never think of the right words. But the thought of killing them, well that made me smile.

"What was it like?" I asked.

Jerome grinned from ear to ear and stepped closer so that we were toe to toe.

“Have you ever stood at the edge of a really tall building? You know that little voice in the back of your head that says ‘Jump! You can fly!’ even though every other part of you is screaming ‘No you can’t! You’re gonna kill us!’”

I nodded shakily.

“It’s like finally giving in to that voice. Like jumping off Gotham Bridge and finding out you can fly. And realising you never have to walk again.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and my heart felt like it was going a million beats per minute. His eyes were locked on mine and it felt like he was looking straight into my soul.

“You wanna fly, doll?” He brought his hand up to cup my jaw and ran his thumb along my bottom lip.

It wasn’t humanity I saw in Jerome Valeskas eyes. It was freedom. A freedom that I had wanted for as long as I could remember. And I could have it right now. He was offering it to me. The only thing standing in my way was myself.

“Yes.” I breathed. “Yes, I do.”

The next thing I knew, his lips were crashing into mine and he had hooked his hands under my thighs and was holding them around his waist. His kiss was desperate and hungry, like he had been starved for days and his grip on the bare flesh of my thighs was rough enough to leave bruises. I locked my ankles together behind him to steady myself from swaying underneath the cuffs. When I did, he drove his crotch forwards, grinding into my centre, a quiet moan escaping me as I felt him.

He slowly trailed a hand from my thigh, up my back and to the nape of my neck, before balling my hair in his fist. I gasped as I felt the sudden, sharp tug of him pulling my head back.

His eyes wandered down to settle on my exposed throat, before yanking my head to the side and nestling in the crook of my neck. He must’ve left a hundred open mouth kisses, but as he started to suck, I felt his teeth sink into my skin. I pulled back with a hiss at the sting, but he wouldn’t let go. He just kept on leaving harsh, red bitemarks and pulling my hair, all the time grinding harder into me.

He licked over the bruises he’d left and gently kissed them, before trailing his tongue up my neck to nip at my ear. He smiled darkly and pulled back away from me, dropping my legs back to the floor. He stalked around me, eyeing me up and down like a predator. I felt him behind me, his hands softly holding onto my waist, pulling me close to his chest.

“You know what’s great about this?” He cooed. “You’re already pre-cuffed.”

I flushed and my core swelled hot, his breath so close to me made my skin tingle all over. He pulled at the top of my skirt and dragged it down my hips, letting it fall down around my feet. He caressed my thighs and then stepped back, tugging at my underwear, playfully letting the elastic snap back to me.

“Y’know...” He said, before the familiar sound of a belt unbuckling. “Marquis de Sade said ‘sex without pain is like food without taste’...”

My eyes widened at his words and my heartbeat quickened.

“So, let’s make this... delicious.”

A million thoughts raced through my mind, but before I could process any, I felt the sharp snap of leather against my ass. I jolted forwards and let out a high pitch yelp.

Even though I couldn’t see him, I could tell he was smirking. I could hear it in his voice. I bit my lip in an attempt to brace myself and he landed the belt across me again.

“Please, Jerome...” I whimpered at the sting, closing my eyes.

He brought it down again, making me arch my back in a gasp. A couple of tears rolled down my cheeks and I realised there was little point in resisting the torment. So, I gritted my teeth and prepared for another lick of the belt.

He whipped me once more, harder this time and a small scream escaped me.

“Please!” I begged.

I heard him chuckle with dark delight. The bastard was enjoying this. Of course he was. What else had I expected from someone like him? I tightened all my muscles for the next sting...

But it didn’t come. Instead, I felt him pulling my underwear down. Relief washed over me when I heard the belt drop to the floor and I realised Jerome was finished and was now crouched, ready to inspect his work. He ran his fingers over my burning flesh, taking in the bright red lashes he had left on me.

“What a pretty picture?” He said, landing a spank. “I wish you could see too doll, but having you cuffed is half the fun.”

His voice was dripping with venom and arousal and I could practically feel his grin in the air. He traced the marks with his fingers a little longer, before grabbing my flesh in fistfuls and sinking his teeth in. I gasped loudly at the hard bite. I wasn’t sure how many more of Jerome's surprises I could take. He laughed and ran his tongue over the new bruise.

“Yep. Definitely a pretty picture.” He smiled, giving me another spank. “I like those little noises you make, doll. Why don’t you make some more for me?”

He snaked his hand up my inner thigh and began stroking along my slit, relighting the fire in my stomach. I moaned, biting hard on my lip and tried to bring my thighs together, wanting friction.

“Naughty.” He said, landing a swift slap on my entrance causing me to let out a little yelp. “I need you to keep those legs open for me.”

It wasn’t as bad as the belt. In fact, it felt quite good. The heat inside me swelled as Jerome returned to running his fingers back and forth in my slickness. I hummed softly in my throat, fighting the urge to close my thighs again, my knees starting to shudder underneath me.

“Look how wet you are and I’m barely touching you.” Jerome chuckled darkly. “I wonder what happens if I do this?”

Jerome plunged two fingers deep inside me and slowly started pumping them. I let the warmth roll through me, moaning blissfully. He gently started to pick up speed, making it nearly impossible for me to keep my thighs apart. The faster he got, the deeper he dove, making me tighten around his talented fingers and struggle to keep steady on my toes.

My legs were shaking and despite my best efforts I just had to squeeze them together. As soon as I did, Jerome removed his fingers from me, leaving me feeling empty and spanked me hard.

“What did I say about that?” He barked, laying down another spank.

His spanking felt different this time. It felt pleasurable and sent a thrill up my spine.

“Sorry.” I whimpered.

“Sorry for what?” He spanked me again. “For being a needy little whore? Hm?” Another spank.

“Yes!” I gasped. “I’m a needy little whore! I just...”

“What? You just what?”

Jerome landed another slap at my core. It made my muscles clench, but it also aroused me so much more in a way I’d never thought I’d experience.

“What? What do you want, whore?”

“Please...”

“Big words, princess. What...” Spank. “Do you...” Another spank. “Want?”

“I want... I want you...” I forced, breathlessly.

“You want me? What do you want me to do, princess?” Jerome teased, tracing a finger along my burning entrance, just barely touching me.

“Please... Make me feel good, Jerome... Make me cum.”

“Are you gonna be a good girl?”

“Yes...”

“Are you gonna do as I say?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Exactly as I say?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Just please...Jerome.”

I couldn’t take it any longer. I felt so pathetic and needy. I needed him to touch me.

“So desperate.” He giggled sadistically. I supposed he loved seeing me beg.

Then, finally, he spread me open and dove his tongue deep into my wanting warmth. I closed my eyes and bit down hard on my lip as he swirled his tongue around inside me. I wanted to grab his hair and feel it in my fingers, but all I could do was squeeze my fists together in empty frustration.

Jerome grabbed a hand full of my ass, gripping it tightly, digging his nails in and rose his other hand to my pelvis front, pulling me down further onto his tongue. I squealed, a delightful mixture of pleasure and also pain from the tugging on my aching forearms. He ran his front hand down to play with my swollen clit, circling his fingers around beautifully.

He grinded his face deeply into me, sliding his tongue up, down, around and around inside me. He pressed his fingers down harder on my clit, forcing a loud moan out of me. I felt the pressure inside me build, coiling and tightening like a burning spring. I squeezed my thighs around his head in a desperate attempt to pull him deeper, his tongue nestling inside finding all of my sweet spots and lighting them on fire.

I could feel myself ready, ready to burst. He was pulling an amazing orgasm out of me and I wanted nothing more than to just let it go. All it took was one more upward jolt of his head, pushing his tongue that last little bit deep enough to push me over. I screamed out in erotic pleasure, letting the feeling flood me like warm water. My back arched and my legs convulsed until I withered, letting myself dangle from my cuffs in a breathless defeat.

Jerome slid his tongue out of me and pulled his face back away.

“You sing so pretty, dollface. Like a little birdie.” He said, squeezing the flesh off my ass.

He gave me one more light bite and a spank, before he rose back up to stand, snaking his hands along my sides all the way. He let his hands wander up to cup my breasts, massaging them softly. He leaned in close and began leaving wet kisses in the crook of my neck. I shuddered, his touch sending a cool tingle down my spine. He let his hands squeeze my breasts slightly harder, then pulled away and crept back around in front of me.

He stood facing me, his eyes locked on mine. They seemed to burn holes right into my flesh, creating a sense of fear in me. I was scared of Jerome Valeska, I truly was. But everything he was doing to me right now... The way he touched me, kissed me. I wondered how he managed it. How he was able to both terrify and arouse me in equal amounts.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t register his hand rising until it was firmly wrapped around my throat. He leaned down to kiss me, dominating my mouth with his tongue, making me taste myself. Once again, I felt the familiar warmth build in my core as I sensed we were not quite done here. He finished the kiss with a little nip to my bottom lip.

“Are you scared of me, doll?” He purred.

I swallowed hard, unsure if truth was wise here. Then I felt him increase the pressure around my throat, not wanting to wait for an answer.

“Yes.” I breathed.

“Good.” He said through an evil smirk.

He crashed his lips to mine once again, his free hand picking up my thigh to wrap around him. I locked both my legs around his waist, wanting to feel him close against me. I felt his erection hard, under his clothes, grinding into me and I wanted it. Badly. He pulled away from the kiss, leaving his taste on my tongue and raised his hand from my throat to grab hold of my face. He took his other hand away from my thigh and pulled at his tie. I didn’t drop my legs this time, instead I gripped tighter as he slid his tie from around his neck and scrunched it in his fist.

“Open your mouth.” He ordered.

I did as he said and he smiled, before spitting into my open lips and gagging me with his tie. I’d never had anyone do that before and it shocked me a little, but then again, I’d never had anyone like Jerome Valeska before.

He backed up slightly, just enough for him to reach down and unzip his trousers and pull down his underwear, freeing his erection. I couldn’t help but look down at it. It was bigger than any I’d taken before and I wasn’t sure how prepared I was. He started to slowly stroke himself, lifting up my chin to look at me.

He gently stroked a single finger across my jaw and then, suddenly, landed a harsh slap across my cheek. I yelped at the slap, causing a dangerous smile to form on Jeromes mouth. I should’ve been repulsed by him. He killed people and was aroused by my pain and fear, so why was I so attracted to him?

He angled himself underneath me so he was lined up and ready. He wrapped his hand back around my throat and then pushed forwards into me, causing us both to let out deep moans.

“You like that?”

I nodded and whimpered through the material of the tie. Jerome giggled darkly and with his free hand, gripped onto my waist.

“Brace yourself, princess.” He warned, through a poisonous smile.

He pulled back slowly, until he was almost completely out of me and then, like a bullet, ploughed himself right back in, jolting me backwards with force. He continued his thrusting rough and fast, making me whimper and bite down hard on the tie. I closed my legs tightly around him, pulling him closer and forcing him in deeper.

He let out a low, guttural groan and moved his hand upwards from my waist to slap me again, spitting at my face as he did so. I closed my eyes to endure the onslaught of him pounding inside me like a raging animal. I felt like a toy, dangling there for him to use as he liked, but still the searing pleasure of it all made me moan lustfully.

“Open those peepers, princess.” He commanded. “I want you to see exactly who’s in charge here.”

I opened my eyes and saw him grinning at me like a man possessed.

“You like this? You like me fucking you?” He growled, gripping my throat tighter.

All I could do was whimper and moan in response.

“I cuffed you and hung you up, hurt you, spat on you... even made you cry! And you still let me fuck you?” He laughed through shallow breaths. “You’re pathetic, you know that? A pathetic little whore.”

Jerome threw another slap at me and I felt myself tighten around his considerable length, taking him all deep inside me. He drove up into me like he was trying to break me open with his girth and I welcomed every inch of it.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He moaned.

I clenched my walls around him, the feeling of being filled by him sending flutters through me as he pushed in deeper and laughed.

“I don’t think your pussy ever wants to let me go, doll!” He grinned. “But I already know you like taking my cock like this, cause you’re such a good girl for me... I like that.”

I flushed at his words. I didn’t know why, but it made me feel good to please him and, in that moment, I would have done anything for him. I could feel my ecstasy creeping up on me, like magma rising inside a volcano. I cried out wantonly, the heat rising as he worked me, exploring every detail of my canal with his thick shaft.

He let go of my throat and moved both his hands to grab onto my ass and squeezed, steadying me so he could pound me harder and climb to release. His thrusts became erratic and sloppy and I could tell he was just as close as I was. I moaned loudly as he rammed into me harder and faster, burying himself deeper and making my arousal burn.

I could feel it coming, so close. I was about to boil over and all I needed was him. Just him. He continued thrusting like a raging animal, digging his nails into my flesh and scraping them along my ass, stinging sweetly. I whimpered at the sensation and tightened my legs.

“Cum for me, doll.” He panted. “I wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

He plunged into me, pushing the magma higher and just so close to bursting. It was coming. I could feel it.

He pounded again. So close. Again and again, so hard inside me. Just a little more...

I screamed out, closing my eyes and letting everything go. The feeling of my orgasm washed over me like a tidal wave of pure elation. My whole body shook from the force of it and I trembled like a leaf. Jerome continued to thrust into me until he too reached his climax. He growled like a beast and I felt him throb, releasing his hot load of sticky lust deep inside me.

We both relaxed, catching our breath and he stared down into my eyes. He unlatched his hands from the flesh of my ass and brought one round to gently stroke my cheek with his fingertips. It was quiet, but only for a minute.

He threw his head back and laughed like the madman he was, before pulling out of me and stepping back. My legs dropped to the floor and he began to put himself away and zip his trousers back up.

“Well, that was fantastic, dollface. Thanks for playing nice with me.” He said, throwing me a wink.

There was a loud metallic knock at the truck doors and I guessed whoever it was, was trying to get Jeromes attention.

“It’s been fun princess, really. But time waits for no man and I’ve got a party to attend” He said, smiling at me. “Well, more like crash.”

When he turned to leave, I tried to speak, but all that came out was intelligible muttering. He wasn’t going to leave me here, dangling, half naked and gagged like this? Was he? He began walking to the truck doors and I tried to call out.

“Oh! Wait, almost forgot.”

I felt a flood of relief when he began walking back to me.

“I’m gonna need this back.” He said and pulled the tie out of my mouth.

I was glad to finally be rid of it, but my joy was short lived, because he was starting to leave again.

“Hey...” I croaked; my mouth dry.

“Yeah, I’ll have someone come get you later.” He said, too nonchalantly for my liking. “For now, you can just... well, why don’t you just hang out?”

He laughed at his joke and opened the doors.

“Hey! You can’t leave me here!” I tried to shout, but my throat was too dry.

And then... he was gone. He really did just leave me alone, half naked in the back of a truck. How long would it be before someone found me? An hour? Two? The rest of the day?

All alone with my thoughts now, I decided the only thing to do now was wait. Wait and try and go over what the hell just happened between me and Jerome Valeska.

[unfoundhoney]

a sister’s sacrifice ; part three ↠

↠ platonic!c!sleepy bois inc x fem!reader , platonic!c!tubbo x fem!reader ; angst just angst

↠ masterlist

↠ part one ; part two ; part three ;

↠ @leafyturtle @basheverythingyesterday @terribletoothbat @bestioe @junoblad3 @machiebach @ok-honey

when considering the deaths of the people on the dream smp server, yours is the hardest

schlatt was detested by all when he’d died

few people still truly cared for wilbur when he met his end; the man he once was was long gone by then

but you

you never changed

you were a constant for so many & immovably kind to the rest

selfless, giving, caring

even when you just wanted an escape, you came to the aid of your brothers

you gave the ultimate sacrifice & paid the price

everyone mourns you

when the battle is won & dream locked away indefinitely

once everyone has come down from the high of freeing themselves from dream’s reign, the server goes into a state of grieving

there’s no denying your death

they all saw the message in chat

you’re dead

those that were close to you took it hard

niki was narrowly stopped from burning down the bakery you encouraged her to open and helped build

eret put her emotions into work on a memorial in their museum for you

even under the egg’s control, bad & ant put the eggpire aside for you

of course, those who took it the hardest is your family

when ghostbur learns of your death, he’s distraught

he doesn’t quite know how to handle the information

he protects your home & only allows people to enter when he supervises them

tommy took a while to move past his anger & deal with the fact that you’re gone

tubbo ran off to start snowchester

he chose to distract himself rather than truly process his emotions, even if you’d always done your best to break that habit of his

now that you’re not around, who’s to stop him from letting himself be numb to it all?

techno is another one of your family members who chose to barely acknowledge your passing

he became somehow more monotonous & emotionless

and phil

...

there’s no word for a parent who loses a child

wilbur was gone & of course it messed phil up to be the one to take will’s last life but by that point his son was gone

but you

you’d always been such a genuinely good person

phil did so little for you as a father

he was so absent

he never apologized to you for that

he never told you how much he loves & appreciates you & everything you’ve done to keep their family together when he couldn’t be bothered

it’s a few hours after he received the news from ranboo that all the guilt for everything he had ever put you through hit him

he broke down in his kitchen while trying to distract himself by organizing his cupboards

but all he could think about was you

you & your never ending kindness & compassion

he was never a father to you

yet you never hated him

why couldn’t you have hated him?

it would hurt less to lose you if you hated him; it’s what he deserves

he’s unworthy of your love

but he can only dwell so long on you

you are given a proper funeral

you’re buried by the seashore, somewhere between l’manberg and tommy’s abandoned vacation homes in an open field

the sever members plant so many flowers, your gravesite becomes a flower field

but soon, life goes on

it will only hurt for longer to draw out the mourning period

it would do no good for anyone

besides, you wouldn’t want the server to be sad for your sake

techno supposes it’s for the best that you died

he does his best to move on, filling his days with resource gathering and upgrading his tools, weapons, and armor while trying to think through his emotions logically

as much as he liked you

as much as everyone liked you, you were too good

you were the best of them

fate is not kind to heroes

“hello!”

technoblade is not an easy man to sneak up on, let alone scare

the greeting itself isn’t want startles him

it’s turning toward the voice to lock eyes with you

you who is dead

techno is not proud of the sound he made when he saw you but you of all people wouldn’t make fun of him for it

he just stares at you, slowly realizing what’s happened

you look desaturated, the color drained from your clothes

your skin is grey & almost translucent

you’re a ghost

“y/n.”

“hello! who are you?”

techno tells no on one of your ghost form

he even keeps the rest of the server a secret from you

he leads you to your old home & leaves you there w/ ghostbur

he hopes your and ghostbur’s combined amnesia will keep you out of harm’s way i.e. the rest of the server

he visits you occasionally but mostly leaves you be

you live happily with ghostbur for a while

he is very glad to have you back

his memory is nearly as bad as yours, so the story of the server & what happened to you when you were alive is only given to you in bits & pieces that are near impossible to fit together

it was only a matter of time before someone came to visit your house

“...y/n?”

it’s tubbo who finds you first

or he finds your ghost

(tubbo) y/n! oh my god! you’re a ghost! you’ve come back!

(you) hello! *whispers* ghostbur, who is this?

(ghostbur, whispering obviously) that’s tubbo, one of your other brothers i’ve told you about

(you, whispering) oh, right

(tubbo) how long have you- oh, this is incredible! i have to tell tommy! he’s been so sad since you died; he’ll be so glad to see you!

tubbo messages tommy, who is skeptical but reluctantly comes to your house anyway

but there you are

your ghost anyway

which is good enough, honestly

(tommy) y/n!

you catch him in a hug easily, even if you’ve never met him before

(tommy) you’re alive!

(you) no i’m not. i’m a ghost!

techno happens to check in on you when tubbo & tommy are there

bad news for technoblade: you’d told them about techno leading you here

meaning: tommy knows techno hid you from him & everyone else

needless to say, he is not too happy about that

(tommy) you hid her! you kept her away from us!

(techno) tommy, you have to understand-

(tommy) i don’t have to understand shit! you hid her from us! you lied to us!

(techno) tommy-

(tommy) you kept her from everyone! you’re selfish and you’re a liar and you’re horrible and-

(techno) i did it to protect her! she’s been hurt enough protecting others; it’s our turn to protect her. the only way we can do that is by leaving her alone

(tommy) she’s my sister

(techno) your sister is dead, tommy. for once in her life, let her have peace

tommy gives up on techno & goes to you instead

(tommy) y/n! y/n, we can bring you back. we can revive you. well, dream can revive you but he’s in prison so he has to do what we say so we can bring you back. we can be a family again. don’t you want to come back?

(you) ...no

that

...

that isn’t what tommy was expecting

(tommy) what?

(you) if alive y/n comes back, i won’t exist anymore. and i’ve only just got here. i don’t want to go yet

(tommy) don’t you understand how much y/n means to me? y/n has to come back. she has to. she’s so important. not just to me but to, um... tubbo as well! right, tubbo? don’t you want y/n back?

tommy looks to tubbo for some backup but the shorter boy looks away

(tubbo) i think we need to let y/n go, tommy

the betrayal that fills tommy’s chest is soon gone as he locks eyes with techno

tommy knows techno is right

you’re too much of a good person

you’re too willing to sacrifice yourself for others

even as a ghost your kindness is blinding

this server will only drain you of everything you have yet again

he will drain you of everything you are

he’s just tried to convince you to cease to exist to bring back the former version of yourself

(you) i’m sorry. it’s just- i’ve heard there are these really pretty blue flowers in the swamp biome that i haven’t got to see yet-

(tommy) no. it’s fine. i’m sorry. i-... i should go.

tommy leaves your house & tubbo goes with him

even if tubbo caught on a bit sooner to techno’s reasoning, he’s still concerned at his friend’s sudden change in character

(tubbo) tommy... are you alright?

(tommy) ...i really want her back

(tubbo) i do, too. but she’s gone

(tommy) she doesn’t have to be

tubbo can’t argue with that

(tommy) but... maybe it’s for the best

(tubbo) really?

(tommy) yeah.

(tubbo) but just earlier you were telling me about your plan to get the revive book from dream

(tommy) techno’s right, tubbo. all everyone- myself included- has ever done to y/n is take. and she’s given everything

(tubbo) because she loved us

(tommy) as much as she loved us and as much as we loved her... the only thing we’ve ever brought her is pain. i think now... now is her time to rest.

(tubbo) ...that’s very pog champ of you, big man

tommy had planned to visit dream as many times as it took to get the revive book location off of him so he could revive you, but now he’s accepted that he needs to move on

he needs to move on from you & dream & everything dream has put him through

he decides to pay one last visit to dream, put him behind him, & never look back

he’s ready to start a new chapter in his life, one without dream

and the first one without you

but then he’s locked in the prison

two weeks pass

nearing three weeks & tommy still isn’t allowed out of dream’s cell

he’s irritated and annoyed and most of all he’s scared

but he can’t let dream know he’s still afraid of him, that’s why he pisses dream off enough to the point of being beat to death

tommy begs him to stop

but then he’s gone

everything is dark

black

empty

nothing

is this what death is?

conscious in absolute nothingness?

tommy’s feet feel the ground beneath him

his senses come back to him

it’s still dark but he feels as though he can see again

where is he?

heaven?

no, probably hell

or maybe neither?

both...?

what the hell happened?

the first thing to break the silence is the voice tommy has known since he was an infant

the voice of the person who raised him

the voice of the person who has always been there for him

the voice of the person who he has finally let go of

your voice

saying one simple word

“tommy?”

[alwaysmarveling]

Laryngitis

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Nat’s a protective girlfriend and you may or may not be sick

A/N: I somehow just realized that since yesterday was Monday, by my unofficial posting schedule, I was supposed to post something yesterday. Sorry for missing it, but I hope you guys enjoy this :)

The annoying beeping of the alarm filled the pitch-black room. Not fully awake, you realized Natasha didn’t have to be waking up this early, so you shot up to turn off the clock before it could wake her up. Just as you were fiddling with the buttons, a groan from beside you told you that you were too late.

“D’you have to go already?” your girlfriend asked, her voice husky and slurred. You whispered back to her in an effort to not wake her up completely.

“Yeah, I’m sorry for waking you, Natty. Go back to sleep.”

“You don’t have to whisper, babe. We both know I’m not going back to sleep.” You let out a sigh, rubbing your eyes slowly to pull yourself into consciousness. She was right; Natasha was a light sleeper, and once she was up, she was up. “Don’t worry about it, dorogaya. Means I can do your hair for you.” That brought a small smile to your face. Not only was Natasha amazing at doing your hair, but it was always an intimate moment between the two of you that both of you loved. As long as Natasha wasn’t away, she made it a point to do your hair for you, even if you two were in an argument with each other.

A small cough brought you back to the present moment. You weren’t sure what it was, but you just weren’t feeling it today. You thought it was the sleep at first, but it was never this hard to wake up, and it wasn’t like you did anything particularly exhausting the day before. Shaking out your arms, you dismissed the thought and slid off of the bed.

“I’m going to go get ready first.” Both you and the redhead froze at your voice.

“Are you okay, detka?” You leaned over the mattress to gently rub at the deep crease between her brows, giving her a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, I must just have something stuck in my throat.” The spy chuckled at your response, but you could still sense an uneasiness in her.

“Go drink some water. Does your throat hurt or anything?”

“I’m fine, Nat.” She simply hummed, watching as you shuffled into the bathroom. You may or may not have told your girlfriend a little lie, but so what if your throat hurt? You’d be fine in less than an hour. You didn’t want to worry her over nothing.

When you were finished in the bathroom, the lights in the room were on, and Natasha was now sitting on the edge of your bed, legs crossed.

“Come sit.” She tapped the small footstool in front of her with her foot before returning to her position. “You sure you’re okay?” she asked again as you joined her.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. You really don’t want me to go on this mission, huh?” you teased. Your face contorted at the end as you tried to hold in a cough, and you still sounded like a frog. Still, you tried to play it cool, hoping Nat was still buying your previous excuse. 

“Well of course I don’t want my girl to leave me.” You could practically feel your heart jump out of your chest when she called you hers, but you simply winked at her.

“I shouldn’t be gone long, half a week at most,”  you informed her, sitting down on the stool.

“I’d miss you even if you were gone for five minutes,” Nat murmured, leaning over to kiss the top of your forehead. “Oh my god, Y/N. You are not going on this mission, you liar. You have a fever!” As if she planned it, you shivered as a chill ran through your body.

“Nat, I promise you, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, right,” she scoffed. “You sound like a zombie. You look like a zombie too.”

“I- hey!” You didn’t mean to yell as loudly as you did, and it threw you off a little bit, causing you to release a series of dry coughs. Lips pursed, the redhead rubbed your back in an effort to soothe you.

“You are definitely sick, Y/N. Get back in bed. I’ll tell Fury.”

“Natty, you’re not going to-” Before you could finish, she was already at the bedside table, phone to her ear. Damn your girlfriend and her spy skills.

“Hey, Fury, Y/N’s sick with a fever and probably laryngitis. You’re going to have to get someone else to cover the mission.” You groaned, burying your face in your hands. You hated missing work. You’d never been one to take a vacation or a day off; for the whole time you’d been working under SHIELD, you only took a sick day once after you’d had to get surgery due to a mission gone slightly wrong. Even then, it took some serious persuasion to get you to do so. You were too busy stressing about missing the mission to listen to the rest of your girlfriend’s conversation with Fury until you heard her calling your name.

“Y/N. Babe? Y/N? Hello?” Looking up from your hands, you met her concerned gaze.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“Fury’s asking how you’re feeling.”

“Good enough to go on the mission?” The redhead rolled her eyes.

“Try again. He’s worried about you.” She held out the phone to you. “Fury, you’re on speaker.”

“L/N, how’s the throat? Try tea with lemon and honey, it’ll help.”

“I’m fine, old man,” you rolled your eyes.

“Wow, you really are sick.” Your lips parted slightly, and Nat couldn’t help but chuckle at the indignance written across your face. “Get some rest, L/N. Don’t worry about the mission, it shouldn’t be hard to get someone to cover for you.”

“But-”

“No ‘but’s. L/N, your powers are literally based on your voice. This is a minor mission, but if this goes south, we need someone who can defend themselves to their full capacity. You are way too valuable to be lost just because you got sick. Listen to your girlfriend. Get better soon. That’s an order. Goodbye, L/N. Thanks for calling, Romanoff.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Wait, Fur-” The man hung up before you got the chance to finish. “This is all your fault.” You crossed your arms, turning away from the former assassin.

“Y/N,” Natasha sighed. “It’s just one mission. I promise everything’ll be okay.” She knew well of your anxiety regarding missing work considering she was the one who had convinced you to take the sick day after your surgery. While she hated making you upset, she knew—and if you were being honest, you did too—that you couldn’t go on a mission like this.

“What if I fall behind? Or what if Fury decides he doesn’t need me anymore? Or what if-” Your voice got weaker the more you spoke, partially because of your nerves but also partially due to your illness.

“Babe, as much as I’d love to talk this out with you, you shouldn’t be talking. Your throat is already destroyed, so for now I’m going to need you to trust me and just listen.” She took your hand and gently guided you back to the bed, purposefully avoiding the glare you were giving her.

“You won’t fall behind because this mission isn’t important. Fury said so himself. I promise it won’t affect your performance at work. And Fury will never decide he doesn’t need you anymore because he literally sees you as his kid.”

“He-” Natasha pressed a finger to your lips before you could finish.

“No talking. Yes, he does see you as his kid whether you want to admit it or not. He will also never replace you because you’re one of the best agents he has. He asked you to join the Avengers for a reason, printsessa. He’s not going to fire you just because you get laryngitis one time, even if you fall behind because of it.” Your girlfriend bent down slightly to meet your eyes, which were still directed at the floor. “You’re doing amazing, Y/N. You do so much for so many different people, and now it’s your turn to let people return the favor. Okay?” You stared at her for a second, your face so blank even Natasha couldn’t read it. When you finally nodded, the redhead let out a small breath of relief before giving you a small smile and a peck on the forehead.

“You stay here. I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?” You reached your arms to her, fingers grasping, when she began to walk away. Letting out a light laugh, she turned around and held one of your hands. “I’ll be back as fast as I can, malyshka. Why don’t you pick out something for us to watch?” She let go of you after one last kiss to the back of your hand and left before you could stop her again.

---

Natasha shuffled through the cabinets as the water was heating up in the kettle.

“Morning, Wan, starting breakfast?” the spy greeted the witch.

“Yeah, you’re up early. Y/N’s mission?”

“Actually, she’s sick,” Natasha grimaced. “Fury’s going to reassign the mission.” Wanda let out a whistle as she placed various ingredients on the kitchen counter.

“I bet she didn’t take that well?”

“Nope. But she can barely speak, and even when she can, she can’t speak more than a sentence or two without stopping to cough, which means…” She trailed off as she inspected a medicine bottle.

“No powers.” Satisfied, Natasha put the rest of the bottles away and returned to the now whistling kettle.

“Exactly.”

“Huh, the kid who can kill people just by speaking with a certain tone gets taken down by a virus.” The former assassin chuckled as she squeezed lemon juice into a steaming cup of tea.

“Don’t let her hear that.”

“Which part?”

“Any of it.” Wanda’s laugh rang through the room.

“Is she hungry? I can make some soup after breakfast if she’s up for it.”

“That would be great,” Natasha smiled gratefully, “Thank you so much.”

“Of co- Your girlfriend is calling for you.” Red flashed as Natasha’s head whipped up, confused.

“Are you sure? I didn’t hear anything. I told her not to-”

“No, no, not verbally. She’s just thinking it. Very loudly.” Nat sighed, but the corners of her lips curled upwards at your antics.

“Is there anything the queen needs?”

“Just you. And no medicine.” The spy shook her head.

“Tell her,” she started, tossing a spoon into the sink, “that I’m on the way. With medicine.”

“You got it,” Wanda promised with a wink. “Warning you now, though, her majesty won’t be happy.”

---

Sure enough, Wanda was right. You had already opened your mouth to complain about the medicine in Nat’s hands, but one stern look from her had you zipping your lips closed in a second.

“You take this, in a couple of days you can talk again.” Your girlfriend didn’t need to be able to read minds to understand what you were thinking; your face said everything. “Yes, a couple of days,” she ordered firmly, handing you two pills. “Take them. Here’s your tea, and I also got you a bottle of water.” You gave her a grateful smile before swallowing the pills, grimacing as they scratched their way down your very sore throat.

“Good girl,” Natasha murmured. “Now,” she started with a peck to your cheek, “Do you need anything else? Blankets? A cool towel? Oh, Wanda’s making you soup, by the way, but I could get you a popsicle or something if you want?” You shook your head at all of her requests. Instead, you patted the spot on the bed next to you.

“Alright,” the redhead smiled. “What’d you pick for us to watch?” You pointed to the screen in front of you. “American Idol. You really aren’t making things easier for yourself, huh?” Nevertheless, she slid in next to you, sitting cross legged, and pulled you into her, your head resting on her lap with the laptop placed in front of you. 

“Maybe I can pull an Ursula and use one of their voices for the mission,” you whispered.

“I swear to god, Y/N, if you don’t shut up,” the spy laughed. A smile on your face, you hit play and snuggled yourself further into her.

As Nat ran her fingers up and down the length of your arm, you couldn’t help but relax into her. Sure, your throat wasn’t better by any means, and you had some lingering anxiety about the mission. But if you had to miss a mission, this was sure as heck the best way to do it, with Natasha right by your side.

[widow-maximov]

I'll be your knight

Pairing: Natasha x Fem Reader

Warning: Language, fluff, angst, smut.

Summary: Dealing with sexism is a real struggle but eventually a line is crossed and anger is unleashed.

A/n: This is my first time writing smut so hopefully it's good enough :3

Word count: 3.5k

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

Being an Avenger isn't easy, especially for any women that join the life style of a hero. You had to put up with sexist comments all the time, most of the time it didn't really bother you but the more you heard random men talking about your best friend like she was some toy, the more it annoyed you.

The comments towards you stopped when you were recruited by Tony Stark, there was some level respect for you and you kind of liked it.

You had some issues with opening up to the team but when Wanda, showed you they are harmless, you slowly opened up more and more as you knew that they were going to be your new family from now on.

Everyone on the team warned you about the one particular redhead but you didn't listen, you wanted to be her friend, she looked scary but is an actual softie, but only around you.

It took time for the Russian to even greet you when she saw you but for you it was worth it, you respected her and always been there for her when she had no one to turn to.

She warmed up to you as she saw the security you were offering her, and you never backed down from your offer, she wasn't keen on your presence but had to learn to accept it.

Even if she didn't trust you fully, that was okay. You trusted her with everything because you knew she was a human just like you and no doubt needed someone to lean on.

⸻⸻⋙☸Flashback☸⋘⸻⸻

You walked around, exploring the place that now it was your new home, you never saw anything more fancy than this place, the room you were staying in was more than enough for 4 people.

Your own tv along with your own big walk in closet and your own bathroom, literally a five star hotel, you didn't complain at all, you were just shocked at how spacious this all was.

Each room was bigger than the other and it was starting to get all confusing, when you left the room, you would get mixed up with the way you walked in.

You loved it but at the same time you hated it, you accidently bumped into the Russian, she looked sweaty in her work out clothes and you stared at her with awkwardness.

She eyed you and cleared her throat, attempting to walk past you and continue where she was going but you stopped her "I'm sorry to disturb you but I just want to know where I can find the gym"

You rubbed your neck awkwardly "I- um- I tried searching everywhere but I'm lost"

Usually when people stutter around Natasha, it meant they were obviously attracted to her but with how you stood and looked away from her just showed her that you were afraid of her.

She didn't smile or anything "Walk straight until you reach the end of the hall and turn left"

You looked at her but she was already on her way so you shouted "Thank you!"

You made your way with her instructions of where to go, she knew how to hide her emotions but it was totally shocking for you how she never had a smile across her lips.

This was your first real conversation, not the hello's or goodbye's. It was a proper conversation, well kind of a proper but it was a start and that's what made you happy.

Second encounter with the redhead was a lot better, the two of you actually had a normal conversation in the morning, you were barely awake so coffee was your way of helping with that.

Walking into the kitchen, not really expecting anyone up early this morning, but the sight of the yawning Russian met your eyes, you smiled at her the best you could as you turned to make yourself a coffee.

"You know there is a coffee maker here?" Her naturally raspy voice spoke which caused you to look at her.

"Yeah I seen it but I have no idea how to use it" You confessed, you weren't embarrassed, you just weren't that fancy to ever own one or even be around one.

She turned around without a word and pulled out a cup, placing it underneath the little nozzle and within seconds the coffee poured out, she took the cup and placed it down as she slid it towards you.

You looked at her and then back at the coffee "Thank you Natasha"

She nodded as she sipped on her own drink "Since you are the only person who is up right now, you mind taking a look at this report, I'm not really sure what it means"

You was taken back, she was asking you for help? Shouldn't she know all of the reports like the back of her hand? She noticed your silence "Or you don't have to, I'll probably figure-"

"No, no I have nothing to do today so I don't mind helping" You smiled and took the coffee with you as you followed her into the room where she had a loads of reports laid out.

You looked at all of them "You know you can work on two reports at a time?"

She nodded "I know but the more I do within a certain time, the less I have later on"

You nodded as you sipped your warm coffee, it was very different to what you were used to, but this was definitely easier to get used to. It was the first time Natasha spent more than 2 minutes with you and you were more than happy to accept that.

So from that time, the two of you worked every morning with each other on reports, you learnt so much from her and in some way she learnt more about you rather than from you, she was impressed by your calmness with her constant questions.

To be fair you wanted to open up to the Russian, she had that safety vibe coming of her and you knew that she would never betray you or your trust that you put in her.

The mornings spent on reports also turned into evenings and soon there was movies every other day, she loved horror movies but you on the other hand loved action movies, there was plenty of action as a hero of the world but it never was enough.

She started to show herself around you more often and you really liked how you could make her laugh with simply couple words. She loved how close she gotten to you and how you trusted her with everything.

She had some doubt but you were always to reassure her, she was thankful for it each time, so in return she would ask you questions about yourself and you never hesitated for a moment to tell her.

⸻⸻⋙☸End☸⋘⸻⸻

But the problem was that not everyone saw it like that, they saw her for her body but not for her heart which is one of many reasons to why she was slow at opening up.

It angered you that people didn't want to treat her like anyone else, just because she was gorgeous didn't automatically make her less of a human.

Today was one of those days where you were busy, like busy busy, overloaded with bunch of reports that needed to be sorted before the next day, so you spent your whole day in you room, you glared at the clock on the wall.

You was doing this for 6 hours straight, no breaks so you decided to just do that. You stood up and stretched out, walking out of your room without anyone around, it did ignite curiosity in you so you walked around cautiously to see what was the deal.

Three of your teammates with two random agents were placed on the couch in the living room, trapping Natasha in between them, from her body language she didn't want to be there.

Bruce and Bucky along with Steve seem to laugh at the agents jokes, you moved closer to the door as you listened to what they were saying.

"Come on Natasha, you should do that power pose and show off that body" One of the agents spoke up as they eyed the Russian.

The other agent tried to move closer to her but hesitated, knowing she could easily tackle him "You can't let that body go to waste"

The anger was raising as words spilled out of their mouths, why didn't Steve stop them? Did he really think that as well?

"I was near to tapping that ass but you know women" Bruce made a comment as he laughed along with the agents.

"If she dyed her hair blonde, the amount of jokes we could make then" Bucky smirked as he spoke loudly.

Natasha was just taking in all of the comments, you could see across her face that she didn't enjoy it at all, so she stood up and what they did next made you finally act.

They all looked at her ass and whistled "Romanoff, you should dance for us, show off those curves"

"I am a little hungry as well, you might as well move that pretty ass of yours and make us something to eat" One of the agents spoke up as he laughed.

You walked in as you raised your brows at the 5 men sitting and eyeing Natasha as a piece of meat, you pulled her into you causing her to jump a little but relax when she realised it was you.

They all looked at you and the other agent smirked "Are yous going to put on a lesbian show for us?"

Now you wasn't just unimpressed but also pissed, you pulled yourself away from the Russian as you stepped forwards in front of Natasha "Listen here you little dick, If I hear that you even looked at Natasha in any way, I will fucking haunt you and make sure you don't live to see tomorrow"

His friend was terrified, he gulped when you looked at him "As for you, I want you to go and make her a fucking five star meal and if it's not good, I swear to god you'll regret being born"

He shook his head so fast as he stood up but you stopped him with your powers "You want a show? I will fucking give you a show"

You gripped his face, squishing his cheeks very firmly, your hand started to glow blue as you made him hallucinate that he was in pain, from the fact that he couldn't move and he felt as if his skin was being peel off he only could scream.

You looked at the 4 men who looked very terrified of you, your eyes had flames and you wasn't going to go easy, on neither of them "If any of you ever comment anything sexist or inappropriate about any woman, including Natasha. I will make your life a living hell"

"Do yous understand?"

They shook their heads and scattered away from you as fast as they could, you let go of the dude in front of you, he looked weak but he gotten up so fast that you could swear he had powers as well.

You turned towards Natasha, worried "Are you okay? Did they touch you?"

You looked her up and down as you made your way towards her, she shook her head with a small smile. You pulled her into a hug as a single tear slid down Natasha's face.

You pulled away as you wiped that tear off with your thumb "Why didn't you act Nat?"

"What's the point? It wont stop them from saying what they want Y/n/n"

The pain in your heart was strong at the words, how could any woman not be scared of what could happen if they do protest against men.

You cupped her face as you looked into her eyes "Natasha Romanoff, I promise you that I will protect you from their filthy mouths"

She smiled, this time it met her eyes which caused you to smile. You crushed on Natasha for a long time and promised yourself that when the time was right you would tell her but each time it was harder to do so.

Her and Bruce at the time were something but when she decided to break it off, you were there for her you told her she didn't need to tell you the reason to why she decided that but reassured her that it was probably a good reason to do so.

Now you are holding her face as her eyes are locked with yours, you could feel those butterflies in your stomach raise up "I will be your knight in casual clothes because armour isn't my style"

She laughed with her whole heart, causing you to laugh as well "Gosh I love you.."

You froze at her words, and so did she, her eyes widen at her words but she knew there was no way out of this so she pulled her sleeve and started to fidget with it.

Your hands were on her face but dropped at those words, you stood still trying to understand what just happened, she continued as she looked down "I hope that's okay but I love you Y/n"

You couldn't believe your ears, the woman who always had trouble opening up, right now was vulnerable with her whole heart to you and you was stuck, frozen as you stared at her.

"I never had anyone stand up for me the way to did today, I started to realise that I had feelings that one day when you were near to death on that mission" She was still fidgeting with her sleeve.

"It's okay if you don't feel the same way but you just needed to know.." She confessed, she was standing in front of you holding her heart out in her hands, offering you to take it.

You smiled whole heartily as you looked into her eyes when you pulled her face by her chin "It's more than okay Tasha"

Your hands dropped to her hips as you pulled her in closer to you "Because I love you too"

That look in her eyes, you could see that she had those butterflies too, her eyes locked with yours, she tilted her head slightly to the side and crashed her lips against yours.

Her hands were placed on the back of your neck pulling you deeper into her kiss, you slowly backed her into the wall and when her back hit the wall, she gasped which you used the opportunity to slide your tongue inside her mouth.

The kiss became heated real quick, forgetting that the two of you were still in the public place, only when someone cleared their throat, make the two of you look where the sound came from.

Natasha hid her face in the crook of your neck as she quietly laughed at how awkward that is, you pulled yourself away from her as you looked in the direction of Tony, who looked at you with pure disgust.

"As if you never done this, but sorry you had to witness..." You rolled your eyes at him at first but looked over at Natasha who was still leaning on the wall "This"

She smiled as she intertwined her hand with yours and tugged it to pull you out of the living room, the two of you made it to her room but it wasn't long before you reclaimed her lips with your own.

This time it was a little bit more gentle, you backed her up to the bed as the back of her leg hit the bed frame, before you pushed her back and claimed on top of her.

The only light was the moonlight that was shining through the blinds, you kissed her passionately and redirected your kisses down to her neck, she moved her face to the side giving you more access to her neck.

You left marks as you slightly stank your teeth in but sucked the spot right after, earning a few small moans from the redhead beneath you, she was slowly turning into a mess but she managed to slightly pull you away.

"Don't you have a lot of work?" She asked a little worried but lust was more visible.

"It can wait" You declared as you looked into her eyes "Are you sure you want this?"

She smiled at you being caring and asking for consent "I want this детка (baby)"

You smirked as you placed a soft kiss on her lips and returned to her neck, giving it a couple more kisses and slowly moving down, the only thing that stopped you was the material of her clothes.

She slightly lifted herself off as you pulled her shirt off, exposing her upper body, you looked at her in admiration, her eyes had slight doubt across them but you were quick to reassure her.

"You are beautiful Tasha" You meant every word that came out of your mouth.

There was a blush across her cheeks as she smiled at you, your hand reached for the back of her bra as you unhooked it and pulled it off her.

You took couple of seconds to admire the view before attaching your mouth to her nipple, she bit her bottom lip to prevent her from moaning.

Your free hand glued itself to the other breast, giving it the same amount of attention as your mouth did, you moved your lips to her ear as your hand kept playing with her now hard nipple.

"I want to hear you Natty" You whispered into her ear and with that Natasha moaned into your ear causing a small smirk to settle on your lips.

You continued to kiss down her body until you reached the bottom of her stomach, you looked up at her to see if she was okay, she nodded to give you the confirmation.

You pulled her shorts off along with her underwear, exposing the bottom half of her body, you could smell her arousal which only fuel you on.

You teased her as you kissed her inner thigh, leaving marks there as well, you would from time to time lock eyes with her. You moved closer to her pussy, teasing her with your tongue causing some frustrated moans to escape her mouth.

Her hips would buck as you would teasingly lick her wet folds, she looked down at you as her eyes were consumed with lust "Please Y/n! Just fuck me already"

That's all you needed to hear before you attached your mouth to her dripping pussy, giving her clit the attention first as the more louder moans escaped her mouth.

You gripped her with your hands as your tongue worked it's magic against her hard clit, she was gripping the bed sheets as moans were spilling out of her lips, not caring if anyone heard.

You moved one of your hands as you slipped one of your fingers inside her and without letting her adjust you started to thrust into her, the feeling of pleasure was building up quickly in the bottom of her stomach with each thrust.

"Oh god" Those were the only words she managed to choke out, she was soaked which stoked up your own arousal along with her moans.

Her hips were quick to match your pace as you thrusted, bringing her closer and closer, you pushed the second finger inside and this time you curled the two fingers, hitting her spot all over again.

One of her hands gripped your arm as her nails dug into your skin, the other hand was still tightly gripping the bedsheet, her head was thrown back as you came up to her face.

Your pace of your fingers never slowing down but thrusting harder and fast "Let me show you how you should be treated instead darling.."

You kissed her lips as she moaned, you moved back down as you felt her walls tighten, knowing she was about to cum. You pushed your fingers even deeper into her, her breathing was heavy letting out low and loud moans.

You watched as the orgasm consumed Natasha with your name falling freely from her lips, you slowed down your thrusts to let her ride out her orgasm, holding her steady pulling your fingers out of her as you licked her clean, and moved back up to her lips.

Kissing her as she slightly moaned at the taste of herself into the kiss, you pulled away from her as she was still breathing heavily, staring into your eyes with a smile.

"Now it's your turn" She spoke in between breathes.

You shook your head "Not today darling, today's focus is you.."

You stripped yourself naked as you pressed your warm body against Natasha, glaring at the marks you left and holding her tight in your arms as she slowly calmed down from her high.

You were sure in this moment that you wanted to hear her moan your name till the rest of your life, it was the music to your ears and you didn't want it any other way.

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

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