#definitely not typing about it here to stop the spiraling thoughts so I argue with this person

[tiredf-o-u-r]

Bruh

[deadsetobsessions]

“DIDJA SEE THAT, DANNY?!” Tim, a scrawny eleven year old now, excitedly smacked Danny’s arm.

“Ow. Yes, yes I did.”

“Oh, gosh, I have to tell Jazz about this!!” The kid waved his arms about wildly, grinning from ear to ear.

“Jaso- I mean, Robin, smiled at me! And said he liked my t-shirt!! Oh my god, he likes literature puns, he even laughed! And then he punched the bad guy in the face! Look! I even saved the tooth!”

“Okayyy, nope!” Danny plucked the tooth and tossed it, ignoring Tim’s betrayed face. “I’ll trade you that for this.”

Danny Held out a piece of paper with Robin’s and Batman’s sigil on it, from when he asked them to sign it after they “saved” the two brothers from the two-bit thugs trying to mug them.

“Oh. My. God. This is like the best day of my life!! I love you, Danny! You’re the best brother ever!! Oh my god! I have to get Nightwing’s signature!!!”

Danny felt a rush of warmth at Tim’s proclamation of affection. Ah, he should probably step in.

“Hey, wait, no, we’re not going to Blüdhaven for you to stalk another vigilante.”

“It’s not just any old vigilante-!” Tim ignored Danny’s dramatic clutching-pearls gesture of mock hurt. “It’s Nightwing. The original Robin! He gave me my first ever hug!”

Danny paused. God dammit.

“…Fine.”

“YESSSSSS!!!!”

——

Danny-

“I’m gonna be Robin whether you want me to or not!”

-is so damn tired.

“Tim. I’m literally a vigilante ghost. What makes you think I’d be stupid enough to argue with a kid who runs around Gotham at night to take pictures of other vigilantes?”

Tim deflated. “Oh. Honestly, I thought you’d put up more of a fight…”

Jazz laughed and ruffled Tim’s hair. “I definitely couldn’t stop Danny when he went out. He trusted me to support him and I trusted him to come to me if he was injured, though. Can you promise me that, Tim?”

“Yeah… okay, Jazz, I promise.” Tim promised, even if he was still pouty.

Danny chimed in.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m totally worried and I’m gonna hover like a mother hen when you go out, but again, I know how stubborn and crazy we vigilante types have to be.” Danny paused. “Do you want me to put up a token protest?”

Tim nodded, sulking. “Yes, please. I had a speech planned out.”

Jazz and Danny exchanged amused glances.

“Oh, okay, my bad, kiddo. Here, let’s start from the top.”

“Okay. Ahem,” Tim straightened his back, settling into his previous mulish expression once more. “I’m gonna be Robin whether you want me to or not!”

Danny placed an appropriately disapproving frown on his face. “No, you can’t! It’s dangerous! You could get hurt! You’re just a child!”

Tim launched into his speech. “But I can’t stay still and do nothing when people are getting hurt! Even…!”

They were gonna be here for a while. There was definitely something about Batman going on a spiral because Jason wouldn’t be able to walk again after the Joker got to him. Danny wondered if ectoplasm could help. He might offer, if it actually had a change of getting Tim out of the vigilante business.

But that’s for later, because they had time. Jazz was on Spring Break… and they’re still staying here for free, after all of these years.

“So, how are you going to convince Robin to let you be Robin?” Jazz asked Tim.

Tim froze. “I… hadn’t thought of that yet.”

“Well, you could always remind him of the fact that we saved him from the Joker. He seemed pretty ready to leave the Robin mantle, the last time I saw him as Phantom.”

“I don’t want to blackmail him into it!” Tim whined.

“It’ll just be a suggestion, Tim.” Jazz smiled patiently.

“Besides,” Danny continued, smirking mischievously at his adopted little brother. “If you were actually blackmailing him, you’d pull out the photos where he ate dirt.”

“I guess that’s true…” Tim mumbled. “I know! I’ll have to follow them to see how I can best approach him!”

"I think that's called stalking," Jazz deadpanned.

"Well, it's not any worse than what he's already done." Danny shrugged at his older sister. "Sure, kid. Why not? Do whatever you want."

"I was planning to!" Tim bounced off to grab his photography gear. Jazz stared off after him.

"Should we be encouraging that?"

"More like can we actually stop him?" Danny leaned back, lazily completing his GED assignments. Jazz sighed.

"Guess not. Make sure he doesn't get in trouble."

"Do you even know how hard that is, Jazz?" Danny complained, dodging the whack Jazz sent at the back of his head. She smirked at him.

"Womp, womp, Danny. How does karma taste today?"

Danny flipped her off as he put the last punctuation on the paper. He heard a clatter and groaned.

“I’m gonna go watch Tim stalk Batman for the night. Want anything from the store?”

Jazz hummed. “Get me the specialty strawberry ice cream, from that one place?”

“The one that’s definitely a front for Falcone’s money laundering??”

“Yeah. They make good strawberry ice cream.”

“Sure.”

Danny went ghost and flew straight through the walls to catch Tim sneaking out by the scruff of his collar.

“No. Bad Tim.”

“Awww, come on Danny!”

[malsmind]

vampire!matt 𝐚𝐧𝐝 antisocial!reader 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭

✰ - content warnings: ★ underage drinking ★ smoking weed ★ social anxiety ★ kissing ★

you never called.

you told yourself you would. maybe even typed out the number once or twice, let your thumb hover over the call button before hitting backspace. but you didn’t. couldn’t. not after that night—your stupid drunk ass practically asking him to stay, to sleep beside you, to want you in some way that wasn’t just homework and arguments. you’d been humiliated before. plenty of times. but something about that hit different. something about matt—about how he turned you down softly—fucked with your head in a way you hadn’t expected. and so you ghosted him. not intentionally. not cruelly. you just… faded out.

you didn’t sit next to him when you studied anymore. only texted him when absolutely necessary. and he didn’t push it. didn’t bring it up. still—tonight, under the lazy summer stars, sitting in some half-dead field your best friend dragged you to, you felt his eyes on you. they’d been on you all night. you were parked on the grass alone, knees drawn to your chest, arms looped around them. your best friend was off with chris again—shocker—and the handful of people left around the speaker were half-baked and laughing about something you weren’t listening to. you could feel the tension before you even saw him walking toward you, a quiet buzz in your chest.

matt.

you didn’t look up until his shadow blocked your view of the stars. you glanced, gave him a small shrug like yeah, sure, sit if you want. he did. no one said anything for a while. just the hum of shitty bluetooth speaker bass and distant laughter drifting through the grass.

“you didn’t call,” matt finally said. his voice was low. not angry. just… there.

you swallow. “yeah.”

he looked at you out of the corner of his eye. “why not?”

you shrugged again. “busy, i guess.”

he huffed. it wasn’t a real laugh, but something close. “you’re a shit liar.”

you didn’t argue. your knee was bouncing restlessly, and you knew he noticed. he was stoned, definitely—smoked just as much as everyone else tonight—and drunk on top of it. you could smell it on him. but his eyes were clear. locked on you.

“you wanna get outta here?” he asked suddenly.

you blinked.

“what?”

“i mean, not like—” he rubbed the back of his neck. “not like that. just… the park. y’know.”

you hesitated, teeth digging into your cheek. the thought of more social interaction made your stomach twist—but being here, surrounded by couples and chaos, feeling like a third wheel in your own life?

that felt worse. so you nodded.

the skate park was nearly empty, like always. cracked pavement, rusting rails. a couple of busted floodlights flickered high above, but most of the place was cloaked in dark. you sat on the edge of one of the bowls, sneakers hanging over the side, staring at nothing.

matt talked more than usual. not in a bad way. just… openly. about nothing and everything. his shitty coach, how his board was getting worn out. how the music scene in town sucked lately. how much he hated group texts. you listened, mostly quiet. nodding occasionally, but your knee wouldn’t stop. you were jittery. skin too tight. thoughts spiraling. the dark always did this to you when you were high—it made you feel like you were too loud in your own head.

he must’ve noticed.

“you okay?”

you nodded before you thought about it. “yeah.”

“you’re lying again.”

you sighed, finally looking over at him. “i don’t like nights like this. being out. the dark. i dunno. just… doesn’t feel good.”

he leaned back on his palms, studying you. “you wanna go back?”

you shook your head. “no. it’s better here.”

his brows rose slightly. “with me?”

you glanced away again, embarrassed. “you’re not the worst.”

a small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “damn. a compliment.”

you huff a laugh. the smallest one. it doesn’t last long. the silence stretches again, but this time it’s heavier. you feel like you’re floating slightly—like the high’s still in your system but fraying at the edges. everything is hazy, but him—the sound of his voice, the way his fingers twitch when he talks, the shape of his jaw under the dim light—he’s sharp. in focus. grounding.

why?

why does he feel...safe?

why him, of all people?

he’s angry, impulsive, cold. half the time you can’t tell if he even likes you. but here he is—talking to you like you matter. noticing the tiny things. saying nothing about the other night. not mocking you. not being an asshole. it’s fucking confusing. and then—like he can hear the storm of thoughts ripping through your skull—he says it.

softly. like a secret. a question, not a demand.

“can i kiss you…?”

your breath catches. you turn your head toward him slowly, pulse hammering. his expression is unreadable—eyes glassy from the high, lips parted just slightly, but his voice had been clear. cautious. waiting. you don’t say anything right away. your heart’s in your throat. your chest aches. you don't know what to say. you remember how it felt to be vulnerable. how it felt when he pulled away.

so instead of saying anything, you just stare at him. matt watches you for a few seconds. then sighs and sits up straighter, dragging a hand down his face.

“it’s fine,” he mutters. “forget it.”

“no,” you say, too fast. your voice cracks.

he pauses. turns to look at you again.

you lick your lips. “i just… don’t get it.”

“get what?”

“why you’re so nice to me.”

he blinks, like he’s surprised that’s what’s on your mind.

you keep going, words tumbling out before you can stop them. “you’re not like this with anyone else. not really. you’re—cold. you fight everyone off. you hate people. and i get that. but you’re not like that with me and i don’t get it, matt.”

he looks away for a long time. jaw clenched. breath shallow.

and then, he just shrugs, “i don't know what you want me to say.”

the silence that follows is crushing. you stare at him, heart roaring in your ears. he still won’t look at you.

“i jus' like talkin' to you, i dunno..” he says, quieter now. “you're interesting.”

you don’t know what to say. you never expected him to say any of that.

he laughs once—dry, bitter. “see? this is why i don’t talk. i sound fucking insane.”

you finally move—reach out, barely touching his arm.

“you don’t,” you whisper.

his eyes snap to yours. you lean forward, heart beating out of your chest, and kiss him before you can talk yourself out of it. just once. soft. quick. when you pull back, you’re both speechless for a second. he stares at you like you’re something he never expected to hold. you don't even know how you built up the courage to kiss him, don't even know if that's what you actually wanted to do, but you did it. he was most likely going to never speak about it again. and you definitely weren't either, but it happened.

dividers by @issysh3ll

₊⊹ - @tits4matt @mattspillowprincess @h3arts4nat @starryfantasydreams @sturns-mermaid @sturniolochrismatt @sturrrrnslvt @bluessturniolo @spaghettislut1 @kittybitch @abbystromboli @urlocallera @loser41ifee @courta13 @phonysuperstarr @sturnsrecord @bbgirlmatt @secretlifeofspace @mattssslutbby @backwardshatnick @oopsiedaisydeer @tezzzzzzzz @sturniolosluttt @aflairforthedramattic @matts-247 @pink1man @sturniolo-szn2 @herewegoagain-b

[hellfirebarnes]

Slow-Burns Part 11

@crowleythesexydemon

PREVIOUS NEXT

I split this up in several, shorter parts because I know the feeling when you want to read a fic but don't have the time or energy to get through a 10k+ words one. Also if you hate my writing you can just read part 1 and then leave it. Win-win I guess?

Anyway, this is set after Thunderbolts so if you haven't seen it - spoilers I guess? It absolutely does not follow canon, but yeah better to be safe than sorry.

Summary: Bucky has fallen. Hopelessly. And the only thing more hopeless is his team trying to help him get to the end of this slow-burn.

Bucky x fem!SHIELD!reader

2k Words

Fluff, ''normal'' violence and descriptions of injuries. For sure out of character stuff, but I am who I am. Your appearence is barely desribed what I can remember, I think your hair and a couple types what clothes you're wearing?

You're referred to as ''Agent'' and ''Sunshine'' in a desperate attempt from me to not use Y/N.

Let me know if there's anything else I should warn about.

Otherwise, enjoy :)

Bucky wasn’t a sentimental guy. He didn’t keep keepsakes. Never had. Not before HYDRA. Not during. And definitely not after. Not until you.

He’d told himself the polaroid wasn’t a big deal. That he only kept it tucked in the box because he didn’t want Bob stealing it out of weird jealousy. That it didn’t mean anything. He told himself a lot of things.

But now, staring at the empty space where the photo should’ve been - the quiet, obvious absence - his heart was in his throat.

Gone. The polaroid was gone.

Bucky checked the floor. The drawer. Under the bed. Behind the nightstand. Inside the journals. Nothing.

It wasn’t just a picture. It was that picture. The one from the housewarming night. You'd looked so happy. And he… well. He’d looked like a man falling.

And now it was gone.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, trying not to spiral. But the panic wouldn’t go. Because deep down, it wasn’t about the photo.

It was about the fact that it was the only version of him he’d let himself keep. The one time he wasn’t hiding behind sarcasm or silence. The one time you leaned into him like you belonged there.

And now it was gone. Like maybe he’d never get another chance to feel that way again.

Team drinks were in full swing.

Bob had made cocktails for everyone, John was halfway to starting an unsolicited karaoke set, and Yelena was arguing with the speaker system. It was loud, chaotic, and somehow still comfortable - the kind of storm where the Thunderbolts thrived.

Bucky was in his usual corner. Drink in hand. Not drinking it. Watching you.

You sat on the armrest of the couch, laughing at something Bob had said, the camera placed neatly in your lap. You’d taken maybe a dozen photos already - team selfies, candid chaos, a snap of John falling off a bean bag that was definitely going on the fridge.

And then it happened.

Ava, who never took pictures, suddenly lifted the camera from your lap and snapped a photo of you and Bob mid-laugh.

You were close. His arm was behind you on the couch. Your head tilted toward him, mid-laugh, that easy, sunbeam kind of smile Bucky had memorized by now. And for a second - just a second - it looked like more.

Bucky felt it like a punch in the chest. He looked away before anyone could see the ache in his eyes. And promptly stalked into the kitchen.

“I need your help.”

Alexei blinked. “I thought you said that was a terrible idea.”

“It is.”

“Then why are you here, looking like you just stepped on your own heart?”

Bucky sighed, leaned against the counter, and rubbed the back of his neck. “The photo. The one from the housewarming night. It’s gone.”

“Gone?” Alexei gasped like someone had just told him vodka was extinct.

“I don’t know where it is, but… it meant something.”

Alexei immediately clasped both hands over his heart. “You are a poet.”

“Stop.”

“Do you want me to write you a ballad? Something tragic? Forbidden love, misplaced photo-”

“I want a new one.”

“A ballad?”

“A picture, Alexei.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, very slowly, Alexei leaned forward. “You want… me… to get you a new picture with Sunshine.”

Bucky regretted every life choice that brought him to this moment. “Yes.”

“You trust me with this?”

“No.”

“Then why ask?”

“Because Bob looked like he was about to propose, and I need a new one. Something that’s ...mine.”

Alexei lit up like a Soviet Christmas tree.

“Comrade,” he whispered, gripping Bucky’s shoulders. “This will be the finest photo ever taken. It will be warrior meets muse. It will radiate yearning. It will whisper: ’We are in love but have not admitted it due to mutual emotional constipation.’”

“Please don’t make this worse.”

“I would never.”

Alexei had a plan.

Unfortunately, that plan included turning off half the lights to create “moody, romantic ambiance.” Loudly shouting, “NOW! STAND CLOSE, YOU TWO, CLOSER!” like a deranged wedding photographer. Physically dragging you away from a game of darts mid-laugh and planting you next to Bucky like you were about to reenact a prom photo.

You blinked up at Bucky, cheeks flushed from laughing. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky mumbled, mortified.

“DON’T MOVE,” Alexei barked, camera in hand. “LOOK INTO EACH OTHER’S EYES. LONGINGLY. LIKE YOU JUST ESCAPED CERTAIN DEATH AND NOW REALIZE LIFE IS TOO SHORT TO BE ALONE-”

John nearly spat out his drink. “What the hell is happening?”

Bob floated closer, peering at the scene. “Are they- Should we clap?”

“Alexei-” Bucky hissed.

“SILENCE! Passion is fragile!”

You, trying not to laugh, glanced up at Bucky again. “Should we… just pose?”

Bucky didn’t trust himself to speak. He just nodded once, jaw tight, and stood there, stiff as stone while you moved to stand beside him. Your shoulder brushed his. It burned.

You smiled. “Hey. Relax. It’s just a picture.”

He looked down at you. At the curve of your smile. At the way your eyes crinkled when you looked up at him like you meant it. Like you saw him. And he wanted to kiss you so badly it almost broke him.

Alexei snapped the photo. Then immediately took six more.

Bucky didn’t move. Because for just a moment, in the soft light, in the quiet after the chaos, it felt like maybe - maybe - he’d have a chance to make this photo mean even more than the last one.

“Could be worse,” You said, voice echoing off cold concrete. “We’ve got light. No broken bones. Only minimal blood loss.”

Bucky raised a brow. “You’re bleeding?”

“Not me,” you grinned. “You.”

He looked down. Shrapnel graze. Right shoulder. He hadn’t even noticed. “Looks worse than it is,” he muttered, brushing it off - or trying to.

The room wasn’t big. Maybe ten by ten feet. No windows. No comms. Just you. And him. And silence. Thick, stretched silence.

You’d gotten separated from the team when the building’s auto-lockdown tripped, slamming steel doors between you and the others.

Extraction ETA: unknown. Options: limited.

You sat down on a crate, one knee drawn up casually. You didn’t look nervous. He, on the other hand, felt like every molecule in the room was conspiring to break his self-control.

You were too close. Not technically touching distance - but close enough that he could hear the soft shift of fabric when you exhaled. Close enough that your perfume threaded through the air and stayed there. Close enough that when your eyes flicked up and met his, it did something dangerous to his ribcage.

“I know that face,” you said suddenly.

He blinked. “What face?”

“The broody one you wear when you think too loud.”

“I’m not-”

“You are.”

You tilted your head, smiling just enough to kill him slowly. “You always get like this after missions.”

“I just - like to decompress.”

You chuckled. “You like to brood in corners. There’s a difference.'' A long pause stretched between you. And then, softly, “You’ve been weird since the last team night.”

His heart stuttered. “I’m not-”

“Bucky.”

He looked over. Your expression was unreadable - something between amused and gentle and fond. It hit like a sucker punch.

“I took it,” you said. A bit rushed.

His throat closed. “Took what?”

“The photo. The polaroid from the housewarming night.” You glanced down. “I… saw it when I was trying to borrow something.'' He couldn’t speak. “I wasn’t gonna,” you rushed out. “I just- picked it up. And then I couldn’t put it down. It was just-” You hesitated. “It was ours. And I didn’t want to share it.”

That shattered something inside him.

You met his eyes again. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.”

He stepped forward. Just once. Enough to close half the distance. Your breath caught. “You kept it?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded. “I put it on my wall. Top center. Looks like it belongs there.”

God.

He moved again. Another step. Only inches between you now. The kind of distance that begged to be closed. That dared him to bridge it. He looked at you - at your mouth, your eyes, the way you watched him like you were waiting for something. Letting him.

“I wanted to kiss you that night,” he said, barely a whisper.

You swallowed. “I know.”

His heart was thunder.

And then-

BOOM.

The door exploded inward.

Smoke. Shouting. Alexei’s voice echoing: “I TOLD YOU I’D FIND YOU, LOVEBIRDS!”

John hissed from somewhere behind him, “Jesus Christ, were you two about to make out in a storage closet?!”

Bob flew in after. “Is everyone okay? You didn’t kiss yet, did you? I’ll be devastated if I missed it.”

You moved back quickly. Bucky froze. Everything snapped back to chaos.

And just like that, the moment was gone - ripped away by noise and fire and Alexei’s tragic sense of timing. But your eyes met his as you were ushered out. And something stayed behind in the quiet you’d almost made into something more.

Bucky hadn’t slept properly since the mission.

He was fine, obviously. Totally functional. Did a 10K run, fixed the punching bag Yelena had kicked off its chain, cleaned his gun twice. Normal things. Soldier things.

He hadn’t been thinking about how close your face had been to his. Or how your lips had parted just slightly. Or how your hand had twitched, like you’d almost reached for him. And he absolutely hadn’t been replaying your voice on a loop in his head.

“I didn’t want to share it.”

He wasn’t spiraling. Not even when he’d passed you in the hallway earlier and you smiled at him like nothing had happened. No tension, no unresolved moment, no explosion of feelings that had nearly gone off like a landmine in a locked room. You were cool. Friendly. Even joked with him about John nearly getting singed during the extraction.

Like you hadn’t almost kissed him.

And Bucky? He just nodded. Smiled back. Managed to say “he had it coming” without sounding like he was actively combusting.

Because he wasn’t combusting.

He was fine.

John walked into the gym. “You’re hitting that dummy like it owes you money.”

“It might.”

“You sure it’s not about that almost-kiss you didn’t get?”

The dummy’s head flew off clean.

“Whoa, okay,” John said, eyebrows up. “So we are talking about it.”

“We’re not.”

“You’ve been doing pushups like someone called your dog ugly, man.”

“I don’t have a dog.”

John smirked. “That’s exactly the kind of weird reply someone gives when they almost kiss someone and then don’t and now think she doesn’t care.”

Bucky glared.

John held up his hands. “Look, just saying - I saw the look on your face when Alexei blew the door open. You looked like someone shot your Christmas tree.”

Bob sighed. “I just think if people love each other they should say it.”

“No one said anything about love, Bob.” You mockingly sighed back.

“But you almost kissed. That’s like a contract, emotionally.”

You laughed, pouring yourself tea. “You’re very invested in this.”

Bob shrugged. “You’re my favorite. And he’s… well, he’s broody and tragic. It’s romantic. It’s, like, the foundation of all fanfiction.”

You snorted into your mug. “Oh my god.”

“I’m serious! The almost-kiss is everything. Now the next step is ‘intense pining while pretending nothing happened.’”

“…That’s oddly specific.”

Bob just beamed.

The team was scattered around couches, watching some terrible action movie John had insisted on. You dropped onto the seat nearest Ava, laughing at something Yelena said. Bucky took the spot across the room - far enough to not seem obvious, close enough that he could watch you without really meaning to.

And you looked at ease. Like always. Like your world hadn’t shifted.

He didn’t know what he expected. Maybe awkwardness. Maybe a follow-up. A nudge. A conversation in the hallway where you’d say, “Hey, about the mission…”

But you hadn’t. And it was killing him. Because now he didn’t know if you’d been about to kiss him too, or if you’d been letting him and regretted it. He didn’t know if you’d only taken the photo because it made a good memory, not because you wanted him.

So he stayed quiet. Sat still. Waited. Watched you throw popcorn at John and laugh. And pretended he wasn’t picturing you standing close, eyes soft, you voice low:

“It was ours.”

[arek-ian]

6 kisses, and this bouquet - all for you-

By the time the car started, the sky was already dark.it was definitely late.  

“Damn it!” Juwoon cursed, slamming his hand against the steering wheel. He’d forgotten the chocolate. The car horn honked loudly in response. It was already past nine-thirty, and he hadn’t even asked to leave work early. He couldn’t. Not on a day like this. He didn’t want anyone to know that, for the first time, he actually had someone to give him Valentine's flowers.  

On Han Juwoon's first Valentine’s Day ever, he was three hours late for dinner at Jaeyi’s butcher shop, stuck in traffic, and had also forgotten the chocolate. A truly special occasion.  

Sighing, Juwoon called Jaeyi to apologize, only to be met with Jihwa’s sharp voice cutting through the line. He endured her scolding in silence before hanging up and forcing himself to find patience somewhere within the growing tension in his chest.  

Juwoon never settled for something he wasn’t completely satisfied with. He had planned to buy a specific kind of chocolate, and he wasn’t about to settle for anything less. But by the time he got the chance, the store was closed. So, instead of bringing a cheaper replacement, he decided to return to Manyang empty-handed...well, not entirely. He had a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Or at least, he hoped they were beautiful.  

As he drove, he kept glancing at his phone, checking if Dongsik had messaged him. Nothing. He knew Dongsik wasn’t the type to get upset over something like this. In fact, he probably wouldn’t have even noticed the date if it weren’t for Jihwa’s teasing and Jaeyi finally calling them out. But still, the thought of Dongsik waiting -waiting for someone- unsettled him. He hated it.  Juwoon clenched the steering wheel and forced himself to stop thinking before his mind spiraled further.  Instead, he finally sent a message:

"Are you still there?"

The phone remained silent for five minutes, long enough for Juwoon to assume Dongsik had already fallen asleep.  

"No, I’m home again."

Great. So maybe he really was asleep. Damn it.  

He slowed the car as he pulled up in front of the butcher shop. The lights were still on, and he could see shadows moving inside. As he stepped out, Jihwa was just about to turn them off.  

“Well, well, look who it is! Inspector Han himself,” she called, arms crossed. “Did you save the city?”  

Juwoon sighed, offering her a bitter smile before nodding in greeting. “Sorry, I couldn’t get here in time.”  

The almighty Jihwa stared at him for a beat before laughing. “It’s okay,” she said, right before landing a not-so-light punch to his shoulder. Juwoon winced but didn’t dare argue. “If you came here to apologize, save it for someone else.”   Behind the glass, Jaeyi pointed at him, confirming Jihwa’s words.  

“Oh no, I brought this,” Juwoon said, handing over a bottle of wine he had been saving for a celebratory dinner. One he had, of course, missed.  

Jaeye raised an eyebrow. “Fancy wine.”  

“You should’ve come earlier,” Jihwa tsked, but she took it anyway. “I’ll save it for the next dinner.”  

Despite Juwoon’s weak protests, Jihwa promptly shoved him back toward his car. “Don’t argue too much, Han juwoon-sii. Go. Someone’s waiting for you.”  

“I think he’s already asleep,” Juwoon muttered, ignoring her knowing look.  Jihwa scoffed. “Who? Dongsik? Since when does he sleep early? What, is he getting old?. he's cant be sleep today ”   Jaeyi chuckled from inside, shaking her head. “Eonni, let him go.”  

Jihwa finally let him be, flipping off the lights behind him.  

                                                                                                 __

By the time Juwoon reached the house, relief flooded him at the sight of the warm glow from the kitchen window. He was still awake.   Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door. It took only seconds before he heard the sound of slow, familiar footsteps approaching. The uneven gait he knew too well.  

Juwoon exhaled.  

The door creaked open, and before Dongsik could say anything, Juwoon mumbled, “Stay silent for a second. Don’t make me stand in the cold.”  

Then, he thrust the bouquet forward.  

The flowers -far larger than he’d expected- looked even more massive in Dongsik’s arms. For a long moment, Dongsik simply stared at them, then at Juwoon, his expression unreadable.   Juwoon shifted, suddenly unsure. Had he overdone it?  

Clearing his throat, he muttered, “I… I don’t really know what to say. I’ve never done this before. But… I hope we stay together.”  

Dongsik blinked. Then, much to Juwoon’s shock, a hint of pink crept onto his cheeks.  Juwoon’s heart lurched. 'He’s blushing.' The older man coughed, looking away. “Well… I’m not the only one experiencing this for the first time.”  

Not a common sight.  

Before Juwoon could overthink it, he stepped forward and pulled Dongsik into a hug. Better to save them both from the awkward eye contact.  

Dongsik hesitated for only a second before reaching out, closing the door behind them, then letting his hand settle on Juwoon’s back. He smelled nice, warm, comforting. Dongsik found himself wanting to stay like this for the rest of the night. Not that he’d admit it.  

Suddenly, he remembered the flowers trapped between them.  “Juwoon-ah, thank you for the red roses.”

Juwoon pulled back slightly to meet his gaze. “I forgot the chocolate. I’m late. I didn’t even make to dinner. I don’t think you have anything to thank me for.”  

Dongsik laughed lightly. “Don’t be so eager for punishment.”  

“You’re not mad?” Juwoon pressed, refusing to let him go without an answer.   “I’m not.” Dongsik sighed. “I did want you to have dinner with us, though. It would’ve been fun.”  

Juwoon shook his head, amused. He should scold him somehow. not that he expected Dongsik to take it seriously.  Instead, he leaned down and placed a small peck on Dongsik’s eye. “Will that do?”  

Dongsik raised an eyebrow. “Really?” in amusement, Juwoon hesitated. Then, he leaned in again, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “What about that?”  

The older man chuckled, his exposed neck catching Juwoon’s eye. Before he could think twice, he dove in, leaving another kiss just below his jaw.  Dongsik yelped, batting him on the head. “Are you serious?”   “I am,” Juwoon muffled against his skin, pressing another kiss, this time to his chin, then one to his forehead.  

Dongsik huffed, about to protest again, until he suddenly pulled Juwoon into a deep, unexpected kiss. For a moment, Juwoon froze in surprise. Then, something in him melted, his entire body leaned into it, lips parting to savor the warmth and sweetness he realized; he had missed far too much. It was craving. Devouring.  

Gasping for air, Dongsik pulled away first, his lips barely brushing against Juwoon’s as he mumbled, “Now this will do.”  Still dizzy, Juwoon, could only smile and shake his head.

"What, are we going to stand here all night?" the older man's voice pulled Juwoon out of his long stare. he blinked, then let go of him and turned around to hang up his coat and take off his shoes.  

                                                              __

In the kitchen, Dongsik was busy arranging fresh flowers in a vase on the table, tossing out the wilted ones. They were flowers he had planted in the garden at home, though they hadn’t grown much yet, Juwoon loved them enough to collect them every morning.  

"Did you eat something, Juwoon-ah?" Dongsik asked, though he already knew the answer.  

" We'll eat together."  That was all Juwoon meant, but Dongsik understood.  

"What do we have for dinner tonight?" Juwoon stood in front of the fridge for a long time, trying to put together a balanced meal from what was inside. He always made an effort to ensure both of them ate well. While Dongsik had gained a little weight and looked healthier, Juwoon, on the other hand, had grown broader. It hadn’t bothered him at first, until Dongsik started complimenting him, admiring him out loud. And that was when it got really annoying.  

Juwoon's eyes landed on a box tucked away in the corner of the fridge. It looked new.  

"What's this?" he asked, pulling it out and placing it on the table.  Dongsik, who had just started boiling eggs, turned around. Without a word, he took the box from Juwoon’s hand and put it back.  

"Nothing. Just some sweets. You know I like sweet things."

But the younger man wasn’t convinced. He reached out again, easily snatching the box back. "Let me guess- chocolate?"

Dongsik’s face turned the faintest shade of pink, and he averted his gaze.  

"Don't you dare say anything." He pointed a finger at Juwoon in warning, but it was useless. A wide grin was already spreading across the man's face.  "So that's why you didn’t comment when I told you I forgot to bring some."

Dongsik pretended to be annoyed, but he stood there, frozen, watching Juwoon’s reaction as he opened the box. Inside were little brown heart-shaped chocolates, dusted with fine gold granules. They were slightly irregular, a little messy, but carefully stacked as if handled with great care.  He stared at them for a long moment before asking, "You made these?"

He wasn’t sure why his heart fluttered at the thought; Dongsik, standing in their kitchen, painstakingly making these for him. what a sight!

The said man shifted on his feet. He was about to deflect, maybe even deny it, but he decided against it. He stayed silent instead, watching as Juwoon took one and popped it into his mouth.   "Weren’t you the one who said no sweets or junk food before the main meal?" Dongsik teased, but there was unmistakable delight in his voice.  

Juwoon's response was simple. "I liked it."  But if he had to explain; The chocolate wasn't too sweet, more on the mild side. Dongsik must have remembered, Juwoon wasn’t a fan of overly sugary things. Even his coffee was always bitter.  

"you made it exactly how i like it,"  Juwoon admitted as he chewed slowly, something warm settling in his chest. It wasn’t the first time Dongsik remembered small details about him. He always did. No matter how much he annoyed Juwoon, no matter how much he pushed, he never did it carelessly. He paid attention. He always had.  

Yet, this time was no different.  

"I'm glad I finished cleaning the kitchen before you got here."Dongsik chuckled, shaking his head.  

Juwoon raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"If you had seen the mess I made, you wouldn’t be standing there looking so mesmerized. And besides, I’m really not that good, you know." Juwoon hummed, swallowing another piece of chocolate. "I see you’re finally getting used to cleaning without being lazy."  

"Don’t get too proud. Jaeyi helped me with that."

"Really?"  

"Yeah."

"That’s it!"

"What?"

"Nothing."

Now what they said earlier made cense.

Juwoon took a fifth piece before closing the metal box and setting it aside. Then, without hesitation, he stepped toward Dongsik and pressed a soft kiss to his fingertips, his touch gentle, full of something that made Dongsik’s breath hitch.  

"I never dreamed of this," Juwoon whispered, his voice was quiet, but his eyes -slightly damp, slightly overwhelming- looked right at Dongsik, leaving his heart pounding, his chest tight.  he exhaled sharply, tilting his head, lips parting as if to say something romantic, something real. But all he could manage was-

"I'm happy so."

  And then, he was being lift, Juwoon pressing him against the kitchen wall, the sweetness of his lips mixing with the lingering taste of chocolate.  

Maybe dinner could wait. The eggs wouldn’t burn. They could wait too.  But this -this feeling swelling in his chest, threatening to choke him- this couldn’t.  Between ragged breaths and wet kisses, Juwoon finally found the words he had always wanted to say, the love he had never dared to have for himself.

"I love you."

[fratboykate]

I love hearing about relationship drama when it’s not my own

boyyyyyyy has the last year of my life been one long relationship drama:

-getting divorced from the girl I was married to for seven years. we're I think one form/signature away from me officially being a hot young divorcee lol. I belive that's happening next month.

-throughout that I was dating someone else for almost a year. SHE WENT HOME WITH ME FOR THE HOLIDAYS IN 2023. We spent three weeks in my country. Christmas. New Years. Etc. She met my parents. First person I've dated who has ever met my parents. Everrrr. Not even my wife did. My mom is OBSESSED with her. Literally still asks about her to this day lol. This girl was PERFECT FOR ME. Y'all know my type. She was custom made. Green eyes, dark hair, tall as fuck, literal IG model...WITH A MASTERS FROM AN IVY LEAGUE. Dude not only was she an 11/10 in looks but her brain was the hottest thing about her. Actually brilliant. I could listen to her talk all day. Like...this girl was it dude. We looked so good on the red carpets we hit. It was wild. I was (am???) down BAAAAAD. Y'all know I don't share a bed with people/don't sleep over anywhere. I was sleeping over at her place most days of the week. Everyone in my life was SHOOK. We were talking about kids, marriage, etc. Real deal...until...

-this ex who just followed me resurfaced for...reasons. We did our usual bi annual random text thing where we talk for like a few hours straight and then never again for ages. We've been circling the drain for ten literal years lol. It's not like anything was happening. This ex is now married to. We weren't like...talking about getting back together or anything stupid. We legit just like randomly text, start arguing over the same shit we've been arguing for a decade, stop talking. Rinse and repeat in about six months 😮‍💨

-Anyway...Ivy League finds out. Because I told her what me and this ex were talking about (it was a pretty big/sad life thing on her end). Because why wouldn't I? Huge fights with me and her start happening every day for about a week. It all goes to shit. I have to break up with her over text because things...just spiraled out of control so damn fast. Within a week we went from actually talking about kids to being broken up lol. Like...we broke up as we were each independently driving from our houses to see each other at a dinner date lol. She did something so fucking disrespectful on the way there that I hit a wall and was like "nah you're not even getting to this restaurant. I'm pulling the plug right now". And I sent the break-up text. She never replied. We've never talked again. Like...at all. It's been one of the wildest things. Definition of quitting cold turkey. Going from 100 to literally no contact from one day to the next. And it all directly tied back to this ex and me talking and the fallout from that conversation. Was I a hot head and I now wish we would've at least argued in person at dinner because if we had we might not be here? Yeah. Kinda. But 🤷🏽‍♀️ It is what it is. Her not replying to that text maybe proves I probably did the right thing. Like if you're not even gonna be like "uhm what" then 🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️ I'd have even taken an "okay have a good life" as acknowledgement. It was ZEROOOO. My breakup text is still the last text on our thread lol.

A lot of you were here for the farmer 11-12 years ago. Yeah...this was comparable. It's going to be a year since that night the last week of April and I'm still kinda (very) fucked up about it. I randomly thought 'i won't survive another farmer situation if this goes south' when ivy league and I started getting real serious and boy did I almost not...BUT I MADE IT (barely...but we're here typing lol)

[yslkook]

good years (1)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: you arrive at hobi’s birthday party, along with some of your other friends. pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc warnings: alcohol, cursing, excessive use of pet names...bc its me

Being late to events, especially events in honor of your friends, was your least favorite thing. Punctuality was one of your top three favorite things about yourself, and yet here you were- nearly sprinting through the streets in heels because you were an idiot and had gotten the name of the bar wrong.

Instead of the Silver Spoon, you’d ended up at the Silver Tongue. That’s what happens when you don’t check your text messages for confirmation and operate on autopilot. So now, you were about an hour and a half late (as if the absence of the birthday boy and his merry band of friends at the Silver Spoon didn’t tell you enough).

Oh well. 

By the time you arrive about twelve blocks away to the Silver Spoon, you quickly make sure that not a hair is out of place before walking into the bar to try to blend in, as if you’d been there the whole time.

“Hobi!” You chirp, finding your friend in the middle of all of the chaos, “Happy birthday, Hobi-”

Hobi turns to greet you, a big (drunk) smile plastered across his face. “You’re late! Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“Well, I-uh, this is gonna sound dumb, but-”

You’re interrupted by a few of the guys walking into the bar, causing a ruckus and nearly screeching Hobi’s name. At least you’re not the only one who’s late. And you quickly see Sora in your line of sight, entering in behind the guys.

Sora, your best friend of several years since college. She’s been with you since the beginning, taking you under her wing when you were both young and in college. She had brought you out of your shell a bit, inviting you to parties and inviting you to have dinner with her in the dining hall. The slow convenience of college had blossomed into something real, something that could stand the test of time- also known as the test of post-graduate life.

Her friendship was an adventure to say the least.

“Hey,” You beam at her with drinks for both of you in your hands, “Fancy seeing you here-”

“Hey,” She grins, pulling you in for a hug, “Work was so shitty, like, I had to stay late today. Of all days! I can’t wait to have a fuckin’ drink.”

“Yeah, here’s something funny-” But your words are cut off yet again, by the arrival of more friends. It looks like Sora had invited some of her own friends, friends that you weren’t quite sure liked you very much.

But you don’t dwell on that, instead sipping on your drink and settling on people watching. Settings like this unnerve you- being in a place where you’re not quite friendly with everyone in attendance makes you feel self-conscious. It’s easier to just stay in the background, blend into the walls, so as to not upset yourself-

“Hey, you,” Comes a familiar voice to your right. It’s Yoongi, one of your fellow people watcher enthusiasts. He stands next to you, shoulder brushing against yours.

“Hey, you,” You repeat, flashing him a smile and a playful shove to his shoulder, “How have you been? It’s been a while, Yoongi.”

“You’re the one who’s been hiding,” Yoongi teases, “All cooped up at home.”

“So have you! In your studio,” You protest, poking his shoulder.

“I guess I can’t argue there.”

“No, you really can’t,” You say, “So tell me then, what’s new? What’s coming out of the studio these days?”

You enjoy hearing him speak, the way his passion for his craft pouring through his words. He invites you (again) to stop by the studio if you ever want to. You promise to stop by soon, with his favorite snacks. You usually try to stop by his studio at least once a month to catch up with him. He’s also one of your oldest friends, along with Hobi.

“Hey,” Comes another voice to your left this time. It’s a voice you definitely recognize, a voice that makes you tense up immediately.

Jeon Jungkook has always had a way of making you stammer over your words, ever since Yoongi and Hobi had introduced you to him years ago. He’s tall, nearly always dressed in all black, tattoos and piercings coloring his frame, and something sweet and sinful swirls in his dark eyes.

You don’t know if it’s a look that is reserved for you or if he looks at everyone like this, but honestly, your brain short circuits every time he glances your way.

“H-hi,” You mumble, taking a sip of your drink to ease your jumpy nerves. Jungkook only grins at you, his bunny smile a stark contrast to the rest of his aura.

“Been a while, huh?” Jungkook says, voice smooth and sweet like molasses. 

“Y-yeah, been busy,” You mutter. You watch in mild panic as Yoongi walks away, being called away by Namjoon and Taehyung.

“Missed you, baby,” Jungkook winks at you. Somehow, he always gravitates to you at these types of events. Not that you’ll particularly complain- his attention makes you feel warm, even if it’s all for jokes and fun.

As Sora repeatedly has told you.

According to her, he’s the worst- a player, a fuckboy (when he was apparently too old to be one, her words not yours) and this is how he treats any pretty girl. So you don’t take it too seriously, only indulging him a bit and keeping him out of your periphery.

But you won’t deny that his recent use of the pet name might make you swoon a little bit.

“Oh, stop,” You wave him off with heat rising in your cheeks. And he knows it, too, from the self-assured smirk he throws you.

“How’s work been? They got you crunching numbers and all that?” Jungkook asks, ordering himself a beer and a drink for you.

“That’s literally my job, but right now, we just got access to a new database so I’m excited to see what kinds of visualizations and insights we can bring forward. We’re moving forward to proactive analysis, but you know, we’re still a ways away from that, we still react to problems so reactively. Like we’re just putting out fires all the time, it’s kinda tiring but I’m excited-” You cut yourself off at your rambling, sheepishly laughing, “Oh, you should’ve stopped me. I know it’s boring.”

“It’s not boring, not if it’s important to you,” Jungkook shrugs, “Besides, I like hearing you talk.”

“Really? You really wanna hear about the latest and greatest happening in the data world?”

“I wanna hear about anything you have to say, baby,” Jungkook says easily. You squeeze your drink in your hand tightly to ground yourself.

This is why he intimidates you- his affections have only increased in the last few months. It’s like he’s playing a game with you, trying to see how long it takes for you to crack. You don’t know how sincere he is when he turns the charm on- is this how he talks to everyone, or is it just you? 

You like to think it’s just you (because you at least dare to call him a friend of yours), but he could get anyone he sets his eyes on. Rather than spiralling down that train of thought, you bask in his flirtations, his gentle affections hidden under his very many layers of black.

Before you can reply to ask him about the tattoo parlor and about his newly purchased motorcycle, Sora interrupts you both. You’re oblivious to the deadly glare that Jungkook shoots her, and the glare that she shoots right back at him.

She whisks you away, an arm tight around your shoulders. You turn your head and look back at Jungkook apologetically.

This is how it always is, especially for the last few months. As soon as Sora sees Jungkook and you speaking, she’ll immediately do anything to intervene. It’s fucking annoying and Jungkook is beginning to dislike Sora more and more each time he has the misfortune of coming in contact with her. He doesn’t really care about whatever personal vendetta your best friend has for him.

He’s always thought Sora was a conniving woman, full of manipulation and tricks up her sleeve. Ever since Yoongi and Hobi had introduced you to their friend group (and you had brought Sora along as well). His instincts are hardly ever wrong, but he hates to see you spiral with her.

But he’s powerless to stop you from walking away from him. Yet again.

tags: @kookdbean​

[transdemigod]

Cutting Yourself Off from the Entities: A Comprehensive Guide

I am once again overanalyzing the Magnus Archives for fun. This topic is super interesting to me, and I haven’t seen it explored as much as other theories, so here we go.

So, you’ve pledged yourself to one of the Dread Powers, but decided that you’ve had enough of terrorizing others. Not to worry, there is a way out. Melanie King did it and lived all the way to the end of the series!

Here is the summary, though I’m sure a full explanation will be more satisfying:

To escape the Buried, lose yourself to the emptiness. To escape the Corruption, kill what loves you. To escape the Dark, give yourself to the sunlight. To escape the Desolation, choose kindness. To escape the End, cut yourself off from dreams. To escape the Eye, blind yourself. To escape the Flesh, give up control of your body. To escape the Hunt, tear out your teeth and claws. To escape the Lonely, bind yourself to others. To escape the Slaughter, remove your emotions. To escape the Spiral, destroy your voice. To escape the Stranger, make yourself known. To escape the Vast, trap yourself in a small place. To escape the Web, give up your autonomy.

The rest is under the cut. Let me know if you have any ideas that you think I missed, I would love to discuss theories.

We know for sure that the way to escape the Eye is to gouge your own eyes out. The other entities have less information, but we get a few clues here and there. In the season 4 Q&A, Jonny and Alex joke about leaving the service of the Stranger by running naked through the streets. They also mention that the Desolation can be left by an act of true altruism. With these details, as well as other details in the rest of the canon, we can make a list of criteria that must be satisfied for an act that will cut someone off from each of the 14 Entities.

Firstly, it isn’t enough to just stop feeding your god. Daisy and Jon both tried to abstain and ended up wasting away, and it is implied that they would have died if they had continued. Dying is certainly one possible way to escape the service of a Fear, but we’re going for living out the rest of your natural life here.

Secondly, there has to be some sacrifice made that relates to the specific power. This is where the Desolation’s explanation kind of falls apart; doing one good act doesn’t stop you from just continuing to be destructive, so the act must also include giving up the thing that ties you to your Entity. In the Stranger’s case, one could argue that exposing yourself does count as giving up your anonymity, and there are several Stranger avatars that seem to thrive on being unknown. My theory is that each Entity has a draw of some kind, a power that it gives its followers, which you would have to completely give up if you are to leave it for good. Jon mentioned that the blinding has to be permanent, so I’m assuming this applies to the others as well. Basically, the avatar who wishes to leave must give up something that one who does not wish to leave would never want to.

Third, the change can be physical or symbolic. Obviously blinding yourself is a very physical change, while committing acts of altruism or making yourself known are less so. Some of the Entities will have pretty clear parts of the body that connect you to the power, others will need a bit more of an explanation. In special cases where a person gets their power from an artifact or a Leitner, destroying the thing would probably be enough to cut them off from that power. And of course, if you are as lucky as Georgie Barker and manage to completely get rid of your fear, that would probably be enough to cut you off from them as well.

So, here are my explanations for what you would have to do to cut yourself off from each of the 14. I’m basing it on examples we get in the series, the few rules I have decided to set, and what would seem thematically or symbolically appropriate. Realistically, each individual would have their own personal journey and each avatar is different, but it’s more fun this way.

The Buried- The draw of the Buried is a little difficult to narrow down, we’ve heard about restfulness, the comfort of enclosed spaces, the desire to be a part of the earth, etc. The thing Buried avatars seem to dislike the most is wide open spaces, though I don’t know how that would translate to something you can change about yourself. How would a person cut themselves off from the earth? You could move to a place that is very open, but you could also just leave. I’m not sure if there is a way a person could give up the concept of space, so I’m probably going to have this same problem when I get to the Vast. Probably the only thing you could give up that makes sense is the type of space the Buried is tied to, so you’d have to keep away from enclosed spaces. However you’re supposed to do that, I have no idea. This one is just going to have to be a less satisfying answer, unless I find another idea later.

To escape the Buried, lose yourself to the emptiness.

The Corruption- Most people who get into the Corruption get filled with bugs, and we know from Jane that it is appealing because you have a sense of belonging and purpose. The Corruption focuses a lot on toxic love, and I think communities specifically because the things we think of as infections are multitudinous: insect hives, bacteria, fungal colonies, etc. Even in the case of that one guy with the beetle wife, it was implied that there would soon be many more beetles. So, I think to stop being fed by the Corruption, you have to get rid of the infection in whatever form it takes. The one woman in the statement about the cult ended up leaving, but she wasn’t a full avatar, so I think that would require a bit more drastic action. If Jane had wanted to leave, she would probably have had to kill every worm inside of her. Knowing what we know about her, she would never want to do that, but she also had no regrets about becoming the Hive. Someone like John Amherst would have to get rid of all the diseases inside of him, so it might be as simple as a hospital visit and getting pumped full of antibiotics. If you got hollowed out by bugs, you might have to fill in the space somehow to be able to move, but I’m sure you could find a way. Maybe some help from the Flesh? It does seems to be in opposition to the Corruption in many ways, so that would work thematically.

To escape the Corruption, kill what loves you.

The Dark- Another abstract one. What’s the opposite of blinding yourself? The Dark, aside from the literal definition, includes things like weird science and unknowable things that lurk in the dark. Seeking knowledge would be a good opposite to darkness, but that’s not making a sacrifice or a permanent change. It’s not very clear what avatars of the Dark would hate to lose. Manuela Dominguez describes hating the light, how traditional divinity and knowledge are unnatural as opposed to the dark state of the world. This might be another location based one. Apparently, the sunniest places in the world are in northern Africa and the southwest parts of America, so moving there might do it. There isn’t an easy permanent change to make, but committing yourself to being in the sunlight as much as possible would probably work. Change your sleep schedule, move somewhere sunny, just avoid the dark in general. Maybe even start worshipping the sun; that would be in opposition to the cult following the Dark has.

To escape the Dark, give yourself to the sunlight.

The Desolation- We know it’s an act of altruism. I think it might need some adjusting, though, to make it more of a sacrifice by the person who serves the Desolation. This fear is all about sacrifice and loss, so it’s a bit tricky to think of something a Desolation avatar could give up when they’ve already committed to giving up everything. Well, everything except themselves. Many avatars, like Jude Perry, have shown themselves to be selfish, but I don’t think even they would be opposed to going out in a blaze of glory. No, the hardest thing for them would be to settle down and live a prosperous life. This one probably would have to be continuous effort instead of one grand sacrifice. It doesn’t fit with the others, but it does fit the theme of the Desolation. Yeah, I’ve just gone in a big circle. Altruism does make the most sense. Just make sure that selfless gesture counts. It’s not a real choice if you don’t mean it. I guess that would be really difficult if you’re used to burning everything around you, so maybe it’s more of a sacrifice than I thought.

To escape the Desolation, choose kindness.

The End- We actually already have a canon answer for this one: lobotomize yourself. Adelard Dekker found an End avatar that was killing people with carbon monoxide through their dreams, and he stopped him by cutting through his pre-frontal cortex- the part of the brain that lets you dream. It’s implied that this didn’t completely work, but I think the reason for that is that the avatar was not the one to make the choice. It’s emphasized again and again that serving the fears is all about personal choice, so it makes sense that any attempt to cut someone off wouldn’t take if the person hasn’t decided to give up their connection. The End is associated with dreams in most appearances, so I believe that a person who chooses not to dream would no longer be bound to it. Oliver Banks could see those whose deaths were coming in his dreams, which directly led to him becoming an avatar, so if he had decided to stop dreaming, that would be it. This procedure might be a bit difficult, I can’t imagine performing your own lobotomy would go very well, but I’m sure getting someone else to do it would count if you were the one to make the decision. Of course, Terminus would still have you in the end, but that will happen no matter what you do.

To escape the End, cut yourself off from dreams.

The Eye- This one is already answered. The draw of the Eye is the power to watch, so you have to give that ability up. Simple, straightforward, and definitely fits the theme.

To escape the Eye, blind yourself.

The Flesh- Oh boy, this is a weird one. We have dysphoria, consumption, body horror, I can’t say this one sounds very appealing. But it must be, or else it wouldn’t have people serving it. A lot of the draw to serve the fears could be interpreted as dishing out what you can’t take. You don’t have to be afraid of being watched if you do the watching, you don’t have to fear harm if you harm them first. Maybe the appeal of Flesh is making others share that fear that you are nothing but meat. I don’t think it’s really possible for people to give up their corporeal form, unless it’s metaphorical but I have no idea what that could mean. I think those who serve the Flesh thrive on being “more” than others. More body parts, more mass in general. You could go on a diet or become a vegetarian, which I think the writers may have joked about once? I want a more concrete solution, though. Diets are easy to break. You can’t fully give up food without dying, so I guess you could give up the control of food. Giving up your sense of taste would be interesting, but I’m going to keep it more general. No easy answer for this one either.

To escape the Flesh, give up control of your body.

The Hunt- People are drawn to the Hunt by that deep, primal desire to chase and attack. Humans have both predator and prey instincts inside of us, so you would have to completely leave the predator behind to escape the Hunt. I think a good way to do this would be the get rid of your teeth, or nails, whichever you use to cause harm. Daisy was able to temporarily leave behind her power in the Buried, but as soon as she got out, she started starving. I think this is a good argument that you could partially cut off your power by using a power that opposes it in some way, but you would have to give up a part of yourself to make it stick. As soon as she had the freedom and ability to hunt again, that was when the urge came back, and she eventually succumbed to it. Getting rid of the parts of your body that do harm wouldn’t completely stop you if you were dedicated enough, but it’s the choice to do so that matters. This one is a bit more of a symbolic choice, and you could probably do something else to your body that would prevent it from hunting, but I am going with the cooler option.

To escape the Hunt, tear out your teeth and claws.

The Lonely- Probably all you have to do to escape the Lonely is just…be around other people. I’m sure this is easier said than done, but there are lots of ways to commit to other humans. Get married, join a club, make a blood pact and permanently bind yourself to another human. The possibilities are endless! This one, I think more than the others, would require a bit more of a continued effort. I know that the whole point is to make one drastic, permanent change, but the Lonely feels like something that’s easy to relapse into. Maybe it’s the depression metaphor, I don’t know, but I don’t think this one has as easy a solution as the others. It’s hard work forcing yourself to stay connected to others, and it’s something most people in real life struggle with. Giving up any of these powers is a difficult choice, which is the whole point. Life is hard, and we have to make tough decisions. Anyway, I’m okay letting this one be a bit more abstract.

To escape the Lonely, bind yourself to others.

The Slaughter- This one is very similar to the Hunt in terms of actions, so I think the solution might be similar as well. Destroying your weapon would fit well, but it is just way too easy to pick up something else and continue hacking and slashing away. To give up violence entirely, you might have to destroy a significant part of your body. For the Slaughter, I think we should go with a less physical act. The opposite of violence is healing, so maybe become a doctor? You would have to really commit to helping others instead of hurting them, and that is too easy to go back on. I think the sacrifice made here would have to be emotion. Anger and the desire to hurt would go away if you couldn’t feel anymore. I don’t know how you would do this, except through drugs, but that isn’t permanent. There is probably a part of the brain you could destroy that causes emotion. It’s not the same as the prefrontal cortex, which we destroyed back in the End section, so at least it’s not the same solution twice. Honestly, the drugs could work if you did them long term, it’s about the choice anyway. However you do it:

To escape the Slaughter, remove your emotions.

The Spiral- The draw of the Spiral is the power to lie and deceive. There are many ways to do this, and there are probably just as many ways to stop yourself from doing it. However, there is one way that I think fits very well and is absolutely a permanent change: destroy your voice. This is actually the first one I thought of because even though it’s not technically the only way to stop yourself from lying, it fits very well thematically. Michael as the Distortion calls itself the Throat of Delusion Incarnate, so what better way to break yourself off from the same power then by tearing out your throat? It’s not perfect, but I like it so much that I’m going to pick it. I don’t know how one would go about destroying one’s voice, except with very careful surgery. Or screaming for a very long time.

To escape the Spiral, destroy your voice.

The Stranger- We got our answer to this one in the Q&A. Run naked through the streets, and make sure to engage with everyone who talks to you so that you can’t hide. Utterly terrifying. It makes perfect sense though; we heard from the Not!Them that beings of the Stranger hate losing their anonymity. Whether by switching skins, tricking the mind, or looking so generic that no one can remember your face, being known is antithetical to the Stranger. There are probably other ways to go about losing your anonymity then running around naked. You could get up on a stage somewhere and pour your heart out, or publish an autobiography. Basically anything the Eye would like. As long as you are putting yourself out there in a way that you can’t take back, you should be able to successfully cut yourself off from that uncanny fear.

To escape the Stranger, make yourself known.

The Vast- This one might actually be easier than the Buried, because it’s not purely spatial. It includes things like longevity, our insignificance in the face of a massive universe, and large scary things in general. A Vast avatar would hate to be enclosed, but they would also hate to be made responsible. They enjoy making others afraid of their insignificance, but what if they were important to the universe? What if the world was actually very small, and they fit neatly into it instead of being lost? There’s a lot of different ways to go here, so narrowing down one sacrifice might not be the best answer. I can’t really think of any one action that makes a person feel as though the world is small and trapping them. Giving themselves to the Buried would, probably. A direct contrast is the easiest answer.

To escape the Vast, trap yourself in a small place.

The Web- Avatars of the Web are manipulators, through and through. There are so many ways to manipulate a person that no one action could prevent you from doing that, so this one would likely vary a lot between individuals. That movie director who had people puppet him in his own house comes to mind, I think giving up your freedom like that is a good way to do it. Being paralyzed wouldn’t stop you if you used your voice to control others, and giving up both would suck, but if that’s what you need to do, then I guess it’s your choice to make. Maybe all you would need to do is let someone else tell you what to do, and fully trust them. That would be difficult, coming from the Web where everything is tied together and you know how easy it is to manipulate you.

To escape the Web, give up your autonomy.

[pigeonp0st]

Agatha x reader where Agatha steals Wanda's girlfriend??? like in Westview wanda and reader are fighting a lot and Agatha steals reader so she can hurt wanda but also falls in love with reader

Agatha Harkness x Reader #1

Words: 4,772

Warnings: All Wandavision TW’s apply here...also...kidnapping occurs

Notes:

Big thanks to @gaytrashgoblin for editing (I’m sorry for not capitalizing my ‘I’ in things lmao...and it should be Westveiw!! I despise Westview. I don’t care if it makes sense), and big thanks to the anon that requested. This was fun to write and is now my longest fic so that’s cool. Hope you peeps enjoy!

————

Ever since you and Wanda came to Westview she’s been...cruel. Not to you, not really, but to others. She’s so wrapped in her grief that she’s not seeing the people she’s hurting because of it.

She lost Vision, her best friend, and she lost Natasha, and Tony, and—

and too many people. But you lost them too.

So when she invited you to go on a vacation with her to Westview, you said yes...you needed the break from reality...you weren’t expecting to enter a whole other one. You weren’t expecting to get trapped inside of some sitcom where she has control of literally everything around you.

So naturally, you two argue. Constantly. Loudly. Wanda doesn’t seem to think she’s doing it, and you honestly aren’t sure anymore if you believe her. Maybe at first it wasn’t on purpose, but now it is, and that’s all that matters.

You just want the arguing to stop, you just want to help everyone, you just want to go home.

When you tell Wanda this her face scrunches up in anger and she stands up from her seat roughly enough to send the coffee she was drinking flying to the floor. “I have nothing out there anymore,” Wanda yells, her powers shaking the café the two of you are in. “Don’t you understand? I’ve already done what I’ve done, and even if I take this all down now nothing will change that. I’m already a monster.”

There’s silence for a brief moment...you aren’t sure what to say to that, but then you look around the café and see everyone talking and chatting like Wanda isn’t even doing the things she’s doing, and you shake your head.

“That isn’t true, Wanda,” you whisper, meeting her glowing eyes. “You weren’t a monster when you created this, but you will be if you keep living in this little fantasy at the expense of everyone else— when you know what’s happening.”

Wanda pauses, eyes turning down. “They aren’t in pain,” she whispers quietly, like she’s trying to convince herself. “But if you don’t like it then you can leave. Especially if you continue to argue with me about this.”

Leave. Leave and leave Wanda here alone. She created Westveiw to stop feeling pain, she created it to be some sort of fantasy land, and you aren’t a part of that anymore for her. In her dream world you aren’t there if you aren’t compliant.

Or maybe you aren’t there if you aren’t happy.

Honestly, she’d probably just create the version of you that she actually wants the second you leave.

When Wanda winces you know that she’s in your head. She looks to be about to protest but you don’t need her to. This is all beside the point.

You can’t leave when people are suffering.

“Wanda, that’s not the point. If you keep hurting people—”

Agnes. Agnes pops her head up behind Wanda, all cheery smiles and good (nosy) neighbor vibes. She always seems to be around to interrupt you and Wanda. Usually you’re thankful, now not so much.

Sighing you slump into your chair, expecting Agnes to ignore you and chat with Wanda the way she always seems to. You’re surprised when that doesn’t happen though.

Agnes looks straight at you. “Y’know...i’ve been wondering for a while now. Are you and Wanda a couple?”

You blink at her, shocked and hesitant. “Uh…”

“Yes,” Wanda cuts in. A flash of hurt in her eyes. “Y/N’s my girlfriend.” The way she says it sounds...used. She says it so dispassionately now, when it used to be filled with too much admiration and even more love.

She says it like she’s tired of saying it. Like it doesn’t mean a whole lot anymore, and you hadn’t realized when that started but it hurts like a stab wound. It hurts realizing that this now, this isn’t the beginning to the end, you and Wanda had already started that a long time ago.

Agnes doesn’t seem to notice either of your turmoil, she just keeps talking, and talking, asking question after question to Wanda and letting you sit in silence and get enveloped by thoughts that you’re only allowing yourself to have because Wanda is distracted by Agnes and can’t read your thoughts.

When had that started up again anyways? She always used to say she wouldn’t do that without permission. It’s just another nail in an already full coffin, you suppose bitterly.

————

When Agnes leaves, you and Wanda silently decide to go home. Your thoughts are spiraling and you’re spiraling, and everything is spiraling but when Wanda kisses you in the doorway of your fake home, in this fake town, you let her.

You let her because even though she hurts you so much, even though you know that she’s only kissing you because she’s attempting to distract you and have you forget about the argument, right now she’s your only tether to reality.

She’s the only thing that’s real. She’s the only thing that’s real, but when she pulls away and notices you’re crying she just sighs heavily and walks away, and you’re left to wonder why the only time she won’t read your mind is the only time you’re begging her to.

You’re left to wonder if the relationship the two of you have is even real anymore either, or if it’s been destroyed and altered by grief.

You’re left to shout in your head angrily and desperately, begging her to listen; “If you leave now we’re over, Wanda. Wanda, listen to me. Wanda, I’m here. I’m here still, for you. You’re all I have. You’re all I...fuck you’re all I have here. Please.”

The bedroom door shuts. The door shuts and the echoes of it feel like it’s breaking your heart.

You leave. You stumble out of the door, gasping and sobbing, and angry. So, so angry. She wasn’t reading your mind, she hadn’t heard, but she left you. She didn’t need to read your mind to know that you were falling apart, to know that you have been since the second you entered this stupid fucking town.

You want to run. Your body is begging you to. You want to run to the corner of this godforsaken town and pound on the barriers like you wish you had the courage to pound on Wanda’s door. You want to yell at the world, to let it know that you’re tired, and you’re alone, and that the weight on your shoulders has been too heavy, the grief on your shoulders weighs too much.

Someone up there in the clouds made a mistake. Someone overestimated what you could take and gave you too much, and now you’re crumbling.

Your heart is crumbling, you’re crumbling on the sidewalk outside of Agne’s home, and her door is opening, and she’s coming out, purple magic surrounding her and a devilishly smirk on her face, and you don’t care.

You just don’t care.

————

When you come to consciousness again, you wish you could just go back asleep. You’re tied to a chair in some dark area—it looks like a cave or some type of labyrinth but you know it can’t be—and it’s not even your biggest concern. You’re not thinking about escaping, you’re thinking about whether Wanda will care enough to come and find you.

Agnes appears out of the darkest corners of the room. You look at her tiredly, then turn away, lost in thought once again.

You’re only pulled out of it when she roughly grabs your chin and forces you to meet her eyes, a pout on her lips. “I’ve never had a prisoner so...relaxed. Get kidnapped often?” Agnes asks, laughing afterwards as if she’s said something funny.

“I’m not relaxed,” you growl, deciding to stop wallowing in your own self pity for now. Whatever’s going on with you and Wanda, she isn’t going to turn you into her. You still have to believe you still have fight in you. You still have to fight when you're faced with (possibly) death. It’s not okay not to. “I just had a really fucking shitty day.”

Agnes raises an eyebrow, stroking your face with amusement. When you attempt to bite her she pulls her hand back roughly, sighing like a disappointed owner. “Yes, yes, I saw you hyperventilating in front of my house. What was that about anyways? Get in a fight with the mistress? You can tell your dear neighbor Agatha.”

You narrow your eyes at her. If anyone is the mistress here it’s definitely Agnes—Agatha? “Agatha?” You repeat out loud, tilting your head.

Agatha nods her head, sticking out her hand. “Yep! Agatha Harkness. Pleased to formally meet cha’.” She pauses, glancing down at your tied down arms. “Whoops. Sorry about that. I forgot.”

Agatha—Anges—whatever, she seems like a total asshole, you decide fairly quickly. She seems like a person that’s only out to entertain herself...it would be amusing or charming if she hadn’t had you tied up in her basement (You assume it’s her basement. That’s where people get tied up in shows), but unfortunately she does.

You pause suddenly. Shocked and broken. “Wanda,” you stutter, “is she...is she controlling you, is she doing this?” The fact that you’re unsure if this is something she would do says a lot.

Agatha pauses too, studying you closely. “Are you two really together?” She asks, ignoring your question completely. “You seem utterly miserable. It’s actually quite depressing.”

You shake your head, eyes wide and tear rimmed. You don’t care about this, you just need to know— “please. Agn- Agatha. Please, tell me,” you croak out, desperate.

You need to know how much of an idiot you’ve been. You need to know if you are worth it. If you have ever been worth it to her. You need to know if the woman you’ve loved for too long—if your miserable grief ridden redhead— would do this.

You need to know if this is the type of person you weren’t able to prevent her from becoming by just being there.

“No,” Agatha says, hesitant sounding and with pity in her eyes. “No dear, I am not under her mind control. Now I need you to tell me if she would search for you, okay? Would she look for you?”

You sag into your restraints, utterly spent and exhausted again. “Is that why you kidnapped me. To get her here?” You ask, letting out a bitter laugh and closing your eyes. “You would have had better luck kidnapping the fucking dog.”

When you open your eyes again Agatha is gone with a cloud of purple smoke left in her absence, and you’re alone.

You’re tired of being alone.

————-

It’s been a week or two since you’ve been kidnapped. It’s not really all that bad. You wallow in depression, Agatha gives you some pretty good food, and when you ask nicely enough she’ll even give you some of her baking. She claims to be very bored.

Because of that she comes down to the basement often (she confirmed you were indeed in the basement) and you two talk. At first it was just Agatha talking. She’d rant on and on about all of her evil plans, and everything she’s been up to. She’d talk about Wanda, try to get some information out of you (she learned quickly that you’re not willing to help her), but after the third day she started asking you a lot of personal questions too.

She’s very good at comforting people, and at getting them to open up. “And when I think about it, like really, actually think about it, I realize that I haven’t loved Wanda romantically for quite some time,” you reveal wobbly, more vulnerable than usual today. “I’ve just...I’ve lost a lot too, and I don’t want to be alone. I can’t be.”

You don’t realize you’re crying until Agatha tenderly wipes a falling tear from your cheek. Her own expression shows more real emotion than she’s ever seemed to allow herself to show in front of you. “It sucks,” Agatha says. “Being alone I mean. I would know. But what sucks even more is forcing yourself to be with people that make you feel alone anyways, just because you’re scared of it possibly being worse without them.”

Agatha says that, years full of loneliness written on her face, but then she just sighs, unties one of your hands, gives you a muffin, and leaves.

You could escape. You could free yourself from your bindings and leave, but instead you grab your muffin, ignoring your tears, and eat.

You eat and you stay. You stay because this woman kidnapped you in her home, and she’s opened up to you. Not because she trusts you necessarily, but because you’ve probably been the only one she’s had around to be honest with for a very long time. Because she kidnapped you, and she hadn’t had to pretend she was something she was not, because she was finally allowed to be real with someone.

And then, even after finally having someone for a little while, she’s decided to free you. Even though it could potentially ruin all of her plans if you went back to Wanda.

You stay because Agatha is the only thing that’s been real in this very fake town, and because Wanda…

Wanda keeps you here, Wanda keeps everyone in this town here because she is terrified, because she is alone, because she has always just wanted normal, and Agatha, who longs for someone to talk to, for someone to be around, let’s you go anyway.

You stay for now because Agatha deserves someone to stay for her.

————

When you see Agatha enter the room the next day you realize that she doesn’t think you’re there. She looks at your empty seat with gritted teeth and sad eyes, and picks up the muffin wrapper you left on the seat with resignation.

“Can I have more?” You ask from the corner of the room, deciding to not leave Agatha in her sadness any longer.

Agatha whips around so fast you think she might need to go to the chiropractor for that later. She looks at you and her eyes soften, and her shoulders sag with her relief, and her hand lets go of the muffin wrapper, and she’s happy you’re there. She’s happy you’re there, and that means something to you.

You don’t know what.

She doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Neither do you. But then, finally; “don’t touch, Wanda,” you ask quietly, but loud enough for her to hear. “I want to stay, but I can’t if I know you’re going to hurt her.”

You don’t expect her to agree. You don’t expect for her to give up her plans. You don’t expect to be enough, but Agatha nods like you are.

You told her, “you don’t need to be alone anymore” when you stayed, and she told you, “you’re enough” when she agreed.

That realization feels like getting hit by a truck. A very nice truck.

“Wanda’s been looking for you,” Agatha says, like she’s reading your thoughts. It’s still so odd to see her hesitant, but that’s exactly what she is right now. “She has been since the morning after you were kidnapped. She’s terrified, and lashing out at everyone to find you. She has everyone looking for you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, shocked, and Agatha winces in the same instant, stepping away. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that Wanda would look for you.

“I need to see her,” you decide. Agatha does nothing but nod, turning to leave again, but you run to catch her by the arm before she goes.

She blinks at you, and then at your hand. You realize it’s the first time you’ve ever touched her. The first time you’ve ever stood beside her.

“Wanda is my family. The entirety of the Avengers are. I think she’d accept it pretty well if I told her I’d like to be friends,” you say, talking to yourself more than her. “I’d like to be her friend, but more importantly I need to take down this...illusion she has going on before we can work things out.”

“Work things out,” Agatha repeats, snapping you out of your thoughts again.

For some reason you keep feeling this need to clarify what Wanda will be to you. Perhaps it’s because of the closed off look Agatha gets whenever you even allude to getting back with Wanda. “As friends.”

Agatha nods again, then narrows her eyes right after. “I’ve never asked…” she says quietly, a venom entering her tone in an instant. “Has Wanda ever hurt you?”

Your eyes widen comically at that. “No,” you say quickly, watching as Agatha’s shoulders drop in relief.

��But she was still a bitch,” Agatha mumbles. You’re not necessarily fond of Agatha talking about Wanda like that…despite everything, one word you would describe Wanda as is ‘trying’, and that’s what she’s doing now. The things she’s doing in grief is not who she is, and it doesn’t excuse what she’s done but it means something profound anyways.

Wanda is a good person. A deep, lost, trying person. She needs someone there for her too. You fell out of love, you realize, before coming to Westview, but it was here that you realized that to be true— during Wanda’s lowest point. And that’s really what this is. Wanda’s lowest point. She’s buried by grief.

So yeah. You want to try and be her friend.

——-

Surprisingly when Wanda sees you the hex falls immediately. On the way here you noticed everyone watching you, and you realize now that it was actually Wanda watching. She’s been using everyone to find you, and now that she has she doesn’t need to manipulate people anymore…that’s what she rushes out quietly in shock when you ask.

She hugs you tightly like she’s afraid of letting go and realizing that you’re just another illusion. You hug her back, thankful and wondering if the hex would have fallen sooner if you had come home sooner.

But you’re surrounded in mere moments, and none of that seems to matter. You’re surrounded by angry townsfolk and people with guns alike.

Just as soon as the guns appear though so does Agatha, surrounded by her magic and glaring at everyone menacingly and with a look on her face that suggests she knows she’s ten times better than them.

“Agatha just floof us out of here!” You yell, staring with wide eyes at the red dot on your chest “or Wanda, SOMEBODY, please!”

Wanda pulls away from you, looking at Agatha, you, the angry townspeople—she looks at them with sorrow for a long moment—and then at the government goons.

“It’s called teleportation, darling! Try to be more articulate,” Agatha sighs, teleporting the three of you out of there a moment after Wanda waves a hand and has them pointing their guns at each other.

———-

Agatha teleported you to a cabin in the middle of nowhere (she said it’s actually only about an hour away from Westview) a little over a week ago.

During that time you’ve managed to end your relationship with Wanda pretty peacefully. She seemed to agree that it was better if you two broke it off...she thinks that she needs time to reevaluate who she is with all of her grief, but mentioned that she’d be willing to get back together again.

When Agatha stops pretending to read her book and glares at Wanda fiercely, Wanda sighs and adds that she understands if that won’t be something you want.

She’s dealing with what she did to the people of Westview very badly, so other than deep conversations and both of you trying to help each other figure out what your futures will look like, she mostly stays in the room she’s staying in and only leaves to get fresh air on the porch and to look for you to cry with and apologize to constantly.

You wonder if there will ever be a day Wanda isn’t apologizing to you.

You also wonder if there will ever be a day Wanda and Agatha don’t hate each other so profusely.

Wanda learned what Agatha did to you and why a few days after staying in the cabin again (she was scared to ask for quite a while), and since then she doesn’t hold the same kindness towards her.

Agatha hadn’t even tried to pretend to like Wanda since the moment they entered the cabin together.

When you ask about it Agatha huffs and rolls her eyes. “Wanda is stupid,” she explains simply.

When you give her a deadpan look she smirks and tries to explain better. “She is. She has no real concept of the power she holds, but more importantly she hurt someone I am fond of very deeply. She made the sweetest woman I know question if she was enough, and that...that is simply unforgivable.”

You don’t know what to say to that. There aren't proper words to describe how much Agatha’s care means to you.

Agatha seems to understand, because she gives you a gentle soft smile and gets up to leave.

“Wait,” you stop her. “Why do you always leave after you show some amount of care for me?” It’s something you’ve been beginning to wonder. Agatha says something incredibly sweet, becomes incredibly vulnerable, and then she leaves. “Where do you go?”

Agatha looks shocked by the question. “I am not sure you are ready for that answer.”

You blink. “Which...one exactly?”

“The why,” Agatha clarifies, studying your face. She’s always so calculating and you don’t want her to think she needs to be with you.

“I am not ready for a lot of things in life, but i’m ready for you.” When the words register in your head you flush up immediately, turning into a blundering mess.

That is also another common occurrence in the cabin. You’ve realized that you have a...crush on Agatha. Though you worry it’s deeper than that.

According to Google it takes three months to fall in love with someone. You’ve done it in three and a half weeks. It’s ridiculous.

“I mean...I mean i’m ready for the things that come with you, y’know? I’m ready for your honesty and—”

Agatha kisses you.

She kisses you, and it’s nothing like you imagined. You expected her to be rough and demanding. You expected her kisses to be a little like her, unrelenting and passionate, but they aren’t.

She kisses you and she’s soft and hesitant. She kisses you and she’s loving. She kisses you, and it’s like she is worshiping you, and breathing you into all of the empty places in her heart.

She kisses you like she is decades old, and yet she’s only just now found her way home.

And then she pulls back, and she’s unrelenting and passionate again, a spark of both mischief and something softer and deeper than you can understand in her eyes.

“At first I left because I was scared of caring for you, and thought that if I left after being vulnerable then maybe I could pretend I never was at all,” Agatha admits, brushing a thumb over your cheek. You remember the first time she did that—and your attempts at biting her.

You try and bite her now too, though not as hard, just to remind her and share in the moment together again. She doesn’t move away so you just end up gently nipping at her palm.

She smiles at you, laughing quietly. It’s not often Agatha releases this type of adoring laugh and you’re left to marvel in it.

“And then me leaving was because,” she pauses, her eyes wavering for a moment, and then she’s pulling you into a tight hug and you can’t see her eyes at all. “Because I wasn’t sure if you were ready to move on from Wanda, and I was scared that if you realized my feelings for you sooner than you were ready you would reject me...and I couldn’t take that.”

She was scared that by being vulnerable with you she was giving herself away, you realize, and as you think it you notice that she sort of has been. Even Wanda has probably noticed…

“So I leave. I leave before you can reject me, because each time I say or do something, I wonder if it’ll be the moment you realize that I lov- that I care for you a great deal.”

Love. That’s what Agatha was about to say. You love her too but she’s right in assuming you aren’t ready to hear it or admit it yet. But you will be, and even if she does admit it sooner than you’re ready the last thing you’ll do is reject her.

“I care for you a great deal, too,” you whisper, pulling away from your hug to meet Agatha’s eyes and smile. It isn’t ‘I love you, too’, but that’s what it's supposed to be...and Agatha seems to understand, because of course she does.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, and then adds with a smirk; “for caring for me a ‘great deal.’ What an honor.”

“You’re the one that said it first,” you smile, rolling your eyes. “You’re cheesier than me.”

Agatha’s eyes narrow menacingly but before she can say anything Wanda’s voice cuts in through the living room. “If you two are done fucking there’s a bear out side of the fucking cabin and I need fucking help!”

“See,” Agatha whispers, a growl in her voice . “I told you she’s an idiot. The only world she knows is ‘fucking’”

You can only roll your eyes again, dragging Agatha by the sleeve into the living room. What you both come to find is Wanda trying to fend off a bear with a wooden spoon. You ignore the snort behind you, only focused on the way Wanda’s eyes zero in on your lips.

Oh. You must have smeared lipstick on.

“Wow,” Wanda breathes, forgetting the bear. “You too really were fucking,” she smiles when she says it to let you know that she’s fine, and that the two of you are good... but you still feel a bit of guilt.

Agatha doesn’t. “You are a greater fool than I thought. Did you forget you have magical abilities?”

Wanda frowns, gaze immediately snapping back to the growling bear. “I didn’t want to risk hurting it. I’m kinda tired of hurting things.”

And with that Agatha and Wanda begin their bickering again...you end up having to be the one to get the bear out and you nearly die from the effort.

“It’s a twisted ankle,” Agatha says, amused. “I took care of it before it could bite off your arm.” When Wanda— full of concern—hands you a pack of ice though...well Agatha’s stance changes fairly quickly.

“You are dying. Come with me. You need bed rest.”

It is all very amusing, you think, despite the pain you’re in. You’re sure in the future when all of this is behind them Agatha and Wanda will be very good friends…but for now, in this cabin, supposedly not actually in the middle of nowhere, they both can be your entertainment.

You loved Wanda (you still do, though not in the same way), and now you love Agatha. It’s the best outcome you could’ve hoped for when you came to Westview...it’s the best outcome you could’ve hoped for when Agatha found you sobbing on the pavement in front of her house and kidnapped you.

It’s not happily ever after, there is a whole lot the three of you need to heal from—individually, but maybe together too— and this isn’t where your stories end...

But it’s the closest you’ve been to happy in a very long time and you’re going to bask in it.

“You’re thinking a lot again,” Agatha notices, tilting her head. “If you would rather do something more fun, could you help me get this poison in Wanda’s drink?”

“Agatha!”

“What? It was just a joke…” she looks down at the vile of liquid she’s holding in her hand when she notices you glaring at it. “hey, really? This is something for the cough Wanda’s developed. Don’t be so untrusting.” Agatha sighs.

“Oh, wait, really?”

“Yes...I wouldn’t actually poison her. This is only going to make her cough worse.”

“Agatha!”

“What?” Agatha huffs. “She messed with my books.”

[diavolosthots]

Request are opeeeeeen yay

Oh, well, could you please do a comforting scenario with Belphie and a depressed MC that's usually very cheerful but not right now (y'know, because of✨ Seasonal depression✨) with a lot of fluff and love?

Thank you in advance, and thank you also for all the things you write! It is amazing!!!

Requests are not open, this is from last time. Also i love how you go to emo boy for seasonal depression haha

Warning: mentions of seasonal depression

As the Seasons Change (BELPHEGOR X GN!READER)

As if life wasn’t already complicated enough as it is, it also just had to throw yearly change at you. The warm, fun, light, bright, and outdoors-y stuff was suddenly replaced by cold, long nights and tons of darkness. Now, for some people, this was great. Who doesn’t prefer shorter days and more sleep? But to people like you, this just put you into a spiral of moodiness. Everything that you looked forward to in Spring and Summer suddenly got taken away and it wasn’t… it just made you feel bad, you know? Things are dying, animals go into hibernation, and people are dressing more darkly. It’s almost as if the world decided to be emo for 6 months out of the year and as much as that is okay, it really isn't. You liked the sunshine and warm days with the softest of breezes. The beautiful flowers and trees and animals that come out to play. Of course, people also just seemed happier. It’s beautiful, to you. Besides, the Devildom already gave you a shock with its constant darkness but you somewhat got used to it, up until Diavolo decided that he needed to “keep up with the human realm” and decided to bring winter down here. So now instead of dark and hot as hell, it was dark and cold as hell. Seriously, it may not be affecting the demons too much but how did he think his two human and two angel exchange students would react?

Still, you can’t blame it all on Diavolo. The guy was trying to do something nice by bringing a little bit of human into the Devildom, probably forgetting that not all humans react the same way to sudden change and or dark and cold dynamics in general. Bottom line is, you were less than pleased. Your moods spun out of control ranging from sadness to anger to not feeling worthy. It was a confusing time and right now, the most you could feel was ‘okay’. “Lucifer, why don’t demons get weirded out by the sudden change in temperature?” You hoped that the eldest could give you some type of explanation or maybe even a little bit of sympathy so you didn’t think you were the only one, but he only shrugged. “Demons adapt easily. We have to, otherwise we’d be tormented by our own minds.” It wasn’t exactly the answer you were looking for and Lucifer could tell, but it didn’t take away from the fact that that was the only answer you would be getting out of him. 

You hated this, genuinely. You even tried talking to Diavolo about it but it seemed to fly right over the guy’s head. “Haha isn’t this fun? I forgot what the cold feels like!” No, Diavolo, it’s not fun. Did you know that some people prefer the cold and get depressed over summer too??? No??? Well, then don’t assume! Of course, you didn’t say that to the Demon Lord because although he himself never scared you, you were terrified of what Barbatos may do had you disrespected the future King like that. You felt alone because even Solomon preferred the dark and although the angels are being of light, they didn’t seem to be affected much by this either. Was it just a human thing? Maybe just a you thing? The more you thought about it, the lonelier you felt and the brothers began to notice your change in behavior. How couldn’t they? They felt bad for you. Beel tried to cheer you up with food, which usually made you laugh, but now you’re just turning away from him. 

Belphegor is the only one who somewhat seemed indifferent, although his looks at you lasted a little longer than usual. Usually you’d annoy him with your constant happiness and ability to jump around everywhere, so now that it’s gone, it’s weird that he actually kind of misses it. “Come cuddle with me.” “Belphie I do---!” But he didn’t even care. He just grabbed you and then dragged you up into the attic with him. That’s probably the most exercise he’s done in a while: dragging someone up the stairs, but it was worth it. Kinda. Maybe. “I didn’t ask. I told you.” You rolled your eyes at him because when does he ever ask? He just does his thing and seems endlessly happy with that, although something told you that was the biggest lie. 

“I don’t want to cuddle.” Now he’s rolling his eyes, falling down onto the bed in the attic and holding out his arms to you. “Maybe you don’t want it, but you definitely need it. Stop fighting with me.” you groaned but gave in, falling down beside him, trying to keep at least some space between the two of you, but Belphie didn’t care and immediately rolled closer, putting his head on your chest. “Stroke my hair and tell me what’s wrong.” What? See this is why you and Belphie rarely ever hang out. He’s so demanding, so needy, and you swore he rivaled Leviathan at times. Levi would beg you to stay until you would, though, and Belphie would just have a death grip on you. Right now you didn’t know which was worse. “Belphie I don’t… I don’t want to.” “Fine then just hold me, but talk to me.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around him because that seemed like a fair compromise and he was already half on top of you so what’s the point of arguing? 

“I just… my emotions are all over the place. I’m sad and then I’m angry. I get annoyed and then I get lonely… it’s because Diavolo changed the damn weather…” You felt stupid for saying that out loud and you could almost guarantee that Belphie thought the same thing, but he didn’t say anything, instead waiting for you to go on. “I just got used to the dark and the hot of the Devildom and now it’s… it’s dark and cold and it feels lonely and empty and I can’t cope with that. He did it to be ‘hip’ or whatever with the human world but he fails to realize that just because it happens naturally up there, doesn’t mean people like that.” “So you got seasonal depression.” You nodded, slowly beginning to let your fingers run over his back while he wrapped himself around you. Well, he more so climbed fully on top of you and snuggled his face into your neck. It tickled a bit so you managed to let out a little giggle, but it disappeared just as quickly. 

“Yeah… I was… you know I could’ve gotten used to just having dark and hot all year around but then he goes and does this and I can’t feel happy right now… everything is just so sad and gloomy. Spring just started in the human world and yet Diavolo decides to start late and extend winter…” Belphie snorted, finding amusement in your words. He has his own opinions about his Demon Lord, including the fact that that guy is a huge himbo, but he could never voice that out loud. Not when he knows Lucifer lives under the same roof as him. “He sucks. But you know… this does give you an excuse to just lay with me all day.” And yes, he truly believes that’s a good thing. Why wouldn’t it be? No expectations, just sleep and cuddles. He pulls his head out of your neck and leans up a bit, kissing your forehead before looking at you. “Just stay with me. I can make you sleep until Lord Diavolo decides winter is done. He’s going to get tired of it sooner or later.” 

You laughed softly at his proposal, shaking your head a bit. “I don’t know if you’re aware but humans need to eat and drink and you’d have me play sleeping beauty, meaning I’d die due to the lack of food and water in my body.” Belphie only shrugged, laying his head back down and snuggling closer. He was behaving like a baby right now, but a cute baby, who wouldn’t let you go. “I don’t see the issue, but suit yourself.” Of course the Avatar of Sloth wouldn’t see the issue. You rolled your eyes again and then poked his sides before holding him tightly. “You’re warm….” “I know.” Another eye roll but you also couldn’t help but smile. He’s such an idiot but at least you’re not alone right now. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer… for just a little bit.” 

Belphie smiled into your neck, kissing it gently before closing his eyes, “I thought so.”

[red1culous]

Oh part 1

Part 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7

Standing in front of that imposing building you felt your resolve falter slightly. It looked as though nothing had changed in years. Even the grove of trees that lined the driveway, tall and graceful, seemed to be frozen in time.

One foot in front of the other, you coax yourself. 

You suck in a laboured breath and walk into the large courtyard stopping once again as you take in your surroundings. You had hoped to be able to come and go without notice but the gravel covering the courtyard was doing a great job in announcing your arrival. 

This is new, you think to yourself slightly amused at your naivety thinking things would have stood still just because you left.

You hadn’t been back in over a decade after that little incident and if anyone had told you you would be standing where you were right now, you would have laughed in their faces before smacking them across it. 

You walk through a smaller sylvan courtyard of blooming orange trees. In its centre you see a fish pond. Smiling you look into it and search for the red and gold koi you had put there when you built the pond as a birthday present for Tony. It swims up to the surface as if it recognises you and if it weren’t for the boxes you were lugging about you might have even bent down to poke at its mouth.

For a split second you consider turning around and walking, no, running away. Screw the freshly baked muffins that were precariously balanced on you. You could just head back to the shop and sell them off at half price. You didn’t need the huge commission that the Avengers had agreed to pay for them. No you definitely didn’t need it…

…you also definitely did not need your business partner chewing off your ear about passing off said commission. 

Think of all the rich people eating your food? you can hear her clawing voice bounce about in your head. 

In truth you knew that the Avengers could easily afford a better baker. The best pastry chefs this side of the globe would happily saw off their left foot to be able to cater for them. But Pepper rings your mobile phone, claiming she meant to actually dial the shop, to place an order…a significantly large one…one she knew you would not be able to resist.

“Shit…” you mumble under your breath seeing the cause of your stress marching towards you a huge smile on her face.

“Is that how you greet an old friend?” Pepper says holding onto your upper arms and leaning in to place air kisses on your cheeks.

“No of course not…it’s just…umm…” you stutter as your heart thumps so hard it rattles its ribcage.

“I know…it’s a little weird being back” she says hands still holding you in place as if she knew you were about to bolt right out of there.

You shrug chuckling a little. “It’s stupid isn’t it?” you adopt a wide smile which had always been effective when dealing with difficult customers.

“Don’t give me that look” she swipes at your chin, “and it’s not stupid either. Just so you know, we’re all on your side.” She adds giving you a sympathetic look and you calm slightly at her words. 

“Thanks Pep.”

“Ok you head in. I’ll meet you inside in a bit, you don’t mind do you? Tony ordered a grand piano and it’s just arrived…” she trails off.

“Sure, I know my way around” you say smiling as she squeezes your arms before letting you go. Of course you knew your way around. After all, this had been your home too for over 5 years. 

5 years of bliss with her. 

You mentally chide yourself. Nope, not gonna go back there. 

As you climb the white marbled steps that led to the main door of the mansion you steal a glance at the silent looming windows glinting in the early morning light. You hesitate a little seeing a shadow pass quickly across one of them. 

Shit. 

Shaking your head, yet again, you finally reach the large oak doors. The bright and zesty scent of your lemon muffins waft into the air and as you are about to ring the doorbell the solid doors open revealing a tanned and muscled man in a shirt way too small for his body.

“STEVEN!” you shout whisper as his face splits into a wide grin.

“Y/N! Wh-what are you doing here?” he almost engulfs you in a hug stopping at the very last moment realising your arms were occupied.

“I-I…umm, muffins?” you return his grin looking down at your packages.

His eyes widen a little before taking some of the boxes from you. He balances 3 with ease in one hand as he pulls you inside. “No I mean I knew we had ordered from you…,” he says walking with you towards the kitchen, “…but I thought you said you were going to send a runner or something.”

“Well I was but our regular guy called in sick” you say gently placing the boxes onto the kitchen island.

“Well isn’t that unfortunate” he eyes you winking when you catch his gaze.

You roll your eyes at him. “No Steve, it’s the very opposite of what you mean.”

“Oh come on Y/N,” he shuffles up beside you to bump your shoulder, “it’s been so long.”

“It has...but hey! I get to see you again!” you bump his shoulder back and he pretends like it hurts him. “Ok so these need to be consumed within 3 days…”

“Woah woah woah now…” he cuts you off, “…you’re talking like you’re about to leave.”

He gives you a sad pouting face. His crisply parted hair makes him look like a choirboy albeit a very well built one. You almost feel sorry for him. 

“Steve you know I don’t belong here” you say fingering the hem of your shirt.

Your answer seems to baffle him. He straightens up and stares at you for a moment narrowing his eyes slightly. “I’m skipping my morning run just to hang out with you, so you can at least spend some time with me.”

“Steve…” you protest before he cuts you off again.

He raises a hand in your face. “Not hearing any of it” he says grabbing yours and leading you out of the kitchen, “…we’re going to take a walk and you’re going to meet some of your family.” 

You knew there was no use arguing with him. The death grip he had on you meant that you couldn’t even try to make a dash for it. “Steve if she…” you add and he cuts you off. Third one in a row. This was getting ridiculous.

“Shh!” and that was final. He leads you into the giant library where that vapid painting by Albert Ryder still hung on the wall. You hated that massive eye sore and always wandered what Tony liked about it. You’d always pegged him for the colourful extravagant type and this painting was just so out of character.

“Sam! Look who’s here?” Steve’s voice bellows out interrupting your thoughts. Your eyes trail up the curving mahogany spiral stairs that Steve is looking at and onto another floor of bookcases that were bathed in sunlight pouring in through a round skylight on the ceiling. 

“OMG Y/N?!” Sam almost shrieks as he bounds down the steps at a dangerous pace to collect you in a massive bear hug. “What are you doing here?!” he adds still crushing you in his arms.

“I came with the cupcakes…” you giggle as he picks you up and twirls you around. “Th-They brought me as their plus one.”

He puts you down to really look at you as if committing you to memory. A large smile sits on his face. “I see the sass is still there?”

“It never really left, big guy” you raise an eyebrow smirking as he hugs you one more time. 

“Pleaseee tell me you’re here for the party?” he groans wrapping an arm around your shoulders looking at you hopefully. “Parties here have been so sad since you’ve been gone.”

You hum about to answer as out of nowhere two slender arms wrap around you. It knocks the wind out of you and you instinctively hug back letting the smell of cinnamon and spice invade your senses. “Wanda!” you yelp.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming” she squeals smacking you across the arm.

You giggle at her pout. “I didn’t know I was coming, malyshka.”

She grins at your use of the word. “Ok let’s go” she says to a chorus of groans. 

“Excuse me! You are not taking her any where!” Sam blurts out grabbing your free hand.

“Sorry guys but I found her first” Steve adds standing in front of you and placing an authoritative hand on your shoulder his fingernails biting into the flesh there. 

“Guys…” you cough nervously, “how about we take a walk…together” you say quietly and sigh in relief as everyone starts smiling and pestering you with questions again. 

I guess nothing’s really changed after all.

---

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[mca-attack21]

The Case of the Killer Lightbulbs

Hi guys! This mini-series is based off an episode of criminal minds called ‘Amplification’. You can find more of my writing on my Masterlist here.

Working alongside Sherlock and John  had put you in numerous compromising and even dangerous situations. It was not a rare occurrence to find yourself in harm’s way, but that never discouraged you. The way you had always viewed it was that John and Sherlock had gotten on fine before you, and they would continue in that fashion if for some reason you were incapacitated. Furthermore, you felt that there was no nobler way to die than saving/protecting the lives of others, especially those you cared about. This mindset of yours never faltered, even during “The Case of the Killer Lightbulbs” as John named it on his blog.

You were at the market when you got the call informing you to stop what you were doing and go outside where a car would be waiting for you. You were used to it by now, Mycroft was known to be the dramatic type. The ride was long and you wondered what the nature if thus case would be: Murder? Blackmail? Theft? National Security? Or, was it just Mycroft trying to get information on his little brother again? Whatever your thought process was during that car ride, it did not prepare you for what was coming next.

You were taken to Scotland yard which was swarming with various officials from detectives, to the military, to the CDC. You were led through to a room where Mycroft, John, and Sherlock sat.

“Okay, you may go now, shut the door on the way out,” Mycroft said to your escort.

As she did, he passed a folder to you, Sherlock, and John and began debriefing, “Yesterday 24 people checked into local area hospitals, all of them with the same symptoms, all of them had been at the same park around 4 pm yesterday. Now at just after 8 am, 14 of the 24 are dead. Lung failure and black legions among a myriad of other symptoms.” 

“Anthrax?” John asked.

“Anthrax doesn’t kill this fast,” you replied.

“Unless it has been genetically altered,” Sherlock surmised, “What do we know about this strain?”

“The spores are weaponized, reduced to a spiral ideal that attacks deep in the lungs. They are both odorless and invisible. The normal antidote is not effective against this strain,” Mycroft explained.

“Why exactly are we here?” John asked.

“We believe that this was a trial run, but don’t know what for. An outbreak in London would be detrimental, so we’ve called you lot in,” Mycroft replied, “You have full access to any resources you deem necessary,” he added handed you special badges, “Finally, here is Cipro, we don’t know if it’s effective against this strain, but it’s worth a shot. I wish you the best of luck.”

You, Sherlock, and John downed the pills and were left alone in the office as Mycroft had to step out.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you said, still trying to get your head around the idea. 

“It isn’t the first time, and most definitely won’t be the last,” Sherlock replied. 

“So, where do we even start?” John asked.

Over the next two days, the three of you visited the hospital and spoke with remaining victims, analyzed the strain in the lab, located a second but smaller attack that happened weeks ago but only affected 4 people, and started to narrow in on a suspect list. You also created a list of possible targets, however it was too large to do any good. The three of you had come to realize that you were looking for someone with a significant background concerning biological agents. You knew that the person you were looking for most likely was in cohorts with the military or CDC and had a relation with the bookstore that was the target of the first attack. It wasn’t long before Sherlock had discovered who was behind it all.

This led you and Sherlock along with a team from the CDC to the home of Alfred Wilson to further investigate. John was at the hospital lending his medical assistance. And Mycroft and his men went to Wilson’s workplace and other known frequented locations. You and Sherlock stood outside as you waited for the all-clear.

“While they are doing that we should probably take a look around,” Sherlock decided.

The two of you walked towards the back of the house looking for anything out of the ordinary. Sherlock was distracted by a phone call from Mycroft explaining that the lab was clean and Wilson was still MIA. Sherlock turned to inform you of this news but realized that you had wandered off. 

“Y/n?” he called and looked for you. He found the path that you must have followed. “Y/n,” he called again. He saw the shack and darted towards it, “Y/n!”

That is when you came into his line of vision, “Sherlock get back! Get back, get out of here!” you shouted frantically locking the door. 

“Y/n? What are you doing? I don’t-” he started, but then he saw the broken container of white powder and the ventilation system. This was where Wilson had developed and even tested the strains. And you had already been exposed, which meant that if the Cipros was ineffective as it most likely would be against this mutated strain, you had less than 24 hours. 

He called Mycroft who got the necessary people there. They wanted to get you out and to the hospital as soon as possible, that was not your plan though.

“Y/n, the CDC is here, they are preparing to extract you,” Sherlock explained through the phone.

“There’s no point, I’ve already been infected, I might as well work to solve the case,” you argued.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mycroft interjected.

“Sherlock, take me off of speakerphone,” you ordered.

“Alright, tell me what you see,” Sherlock humored you.

“Alright, well first off Dr. Wilson is dead, so we can rule him out. There are two workspaces and two sets of handwriting on the papers. So he either had a partner or protege,” you paused as a fit of coughing took over, “I’ve read through everything in here, the cure isn’t here. But maybe they can take the spores and reverse engineer them.” 

“Okay, Y/n. Is there anything else that sticks out to you?” he asked.

You were going to continue but the coughing took over again. You hung up the phone to spare Sherlock. By the time you caught your breath John was entering in an orange hazmat suit.

 “Orange is not your color,” you joked, “On a serious note how are the patients at the hospital?”

“Right now, let’s focus on you,” he redirected, “how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” you replied.

“Are you sure? I could give you something to ease the pain,” he explained.

“I’m fine and I don’t want to take any narcotics,” you snapped.

“Okay, no narcotics, got it,” he confirmed, “how can I help?” he asked.

“I read through all of the papers and none of them talk about the cure, but I think that it has to be in here somewhere. Probably hidden considering that Dr. Wilson was a former military scientist. He was paranoid and most likely tried to protect the cure from his partner. So look for something innocuous, something that you wouldn’t expect,” you explained, starting to feel slightly light-headed. That is when your phone rang again.

“Yes Sherlock?” you answered.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“That is irrelevant, why’d you call?”

“Mycroft said that Wilson’s co-workers were unaware of him having a partner. Is there anything else you can tell me about him?” 

You went over to the desk again scanning for what you missed. It was like it was on the tip of your tongue, but your brain was too foggy to see it. 

“Just list off everything that is on their desks,” Sherlock said wishing that he was in there with you.

“Wait, I’ve got it,” you replied, “Dr. Wilson was a professor. He has syllabi and a framed picture of him teaching. I even read a paper that he graded, or so I thought. He wouldn’t let just anyone into his lab but clearly,” you started before being interrupted by a wave of painful coughing, “he valued himself as an educator. What if the second desk wasn’t a partner, but a student? And the paper, it was formatted like a thesis. See if Mycroft can crossmatch the list of Wilson’s students and/or students at the university that Wilson taught at with past employees or customers of the bookstore.” 

“Okay, will do,” he said hanging up.

“Y/n, you did good, now we need to get you to the hospital,” John tried.

“Okay,” you conceded knowing that there wasn’t anything else you could do there. A couple of CDC workers came and took you to a decontamination shower that they had set up, with John close behind. 

“John, go help Sherlock,” you instructed.

“I’m gonna stay here and see you off to the hospital,” he insisted.

“I am about to be stripped down and bathed, my pride can’t take the thought of you witnessing that. Besides the way I see it, you can either stay here and watch me die or go out and prevent it from happening.”

“If you’re sure,” John replied, feeling torn. 

“Go on,” you reassured him.

———————

Tags: @fanfictionsilove​ @delightfulheartdream​ 

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[tundrainafrica]

i ship levihan but one thing that always irked me was that hanji saved Levi's life twice. and i just feel levi let her go too easily ( i mean i am not saying he shouldn't have let her go, the war and duty is more important but the pacing was too rushed) like even erwin's death got more buildup. for hanji it was like levi didn't resist really.

I get what you mean anon, that’s one of the issues I had with her death. I definitely knew Hange deserved better. I mean when you think about it Levi was eventually gonna let her go. When he was facing her, what else would he have done to stop her right? 

The giants were coming, they needed to get on a plane, the world was being trampled by colossal giants, what leeway did Levi have to argue with Hange or let her go? Even without considering the time, the urgency or the circumstances which made Levi’s reaction to it a little rushed, I want to talk about Levi’s personality and the parallels of Erwin and Hange’s death. 

Levi letting Erwin go and Levi letting Hange go had SOME parallels. 

Parallels which could be used to explain why Levi went about their deaths the way he did. 

1. He didn’t explicitly go against their decision to sacrifice themselves.

If you think about Erwin’s death as well, Levi didn’t actually fight Erwin’s decision to kill himself, In fact Levi was the one who said the words himself. This is similar to Hange’s death, the only attempt we ever seen of Levi trying to stop her was forcing himself to stop her and “hey four eyes...” which was quickly interrupted anyway. 

The difference with Erwin’s death is that we had some hope in the form of that titan serum to bring someone back which made Erwin’s death all the more built up. Season 3 Part 2 was relatively still kinda hopeful though. The final season of Attack on Titan and the manga at the point where Hange died is literally just a wasteland barren of hope and I think both Levi and Hange’s outlook towards the world literally went downhill with the later chapters of the manga, especially with Eren’s betrayal and the start of the rumbling. 

And remember with Erwin’s death, it was proven that Levi is capable of making that type of a difficult choice. And we saw it when he let go of Erwin. And why did Levi make that choice for Erwin? Did he go about that same thought process with Hange? 

2. Both Hange’s and Erwin’s death were a form of atonement and Levi understood that.

I won’t go into too much detail here but we all know that Erwin had selfish motivations all the way until season 3 part 2 which lead to the death of many soldiers. The charge he was to make was the ‘atonement.’ 

For Hange, we’ve seen Hange’s psyche get the beating of the century post time skip (read about my analysis on that here )

Hange’s ‘atonement’ was for the incompetence she saw in herself and the lack of capability she saw in herself as a leader.  

Levi saw the downward spiral of Hange’s psyche. With his decision to let Hange go, Levi wanted her to get the atonement she has been looking for for so long. With Eren’s betrayal, with Sasha’s death, with the splitting up of the survey corps into factions, Hange was definitely wracked to the bone with guilt over her own failures.

Levi made the choice to let her atone for it just like he did with Erwin. 

But Levi should have recognized that it wasn’t her fault right? 

Levi probably did recognize that it wasn’t her fault. Possibly one thing which kept him still considering letting her go on top of that was a need to let her rest? Just like Erwin? And Maybe he understood that Hange would have never rested until she found a chance to make up for it and he understood as he saw her make that decision that that was the only way she could rest.

And we got this dream sequence only confirming what Levi had suspected letting her go like that. 

Hange only rested and she only felt like she had ‘done her duty’ when she sacrificed herself.

And here is one glaring difference between Erwin and Hange’s death which made Levi all the more certain of his decision, even if he probably did not agree that everything that happened was Hange’s fault. 

Erwin still wanted to see the basement and he explicitly told Levi that. That’s why Levi was still vacillitating between injecting Erwin or injecting Armin. Erwin may have still wanted to live, he just wasn’t conscious enough to tell Levi.  

With Hange’s death, we had this exchange. 

Hange made the choice for him. She begged him to let her go. 

On the other hand, Erwin never begged Levi to let him go. He needed Levi to make that decision for him because somehow, he still wanted to live for that selfish reason..

And since we all know, Levi is capable of making this decision, Hange’s words only made him decide on letting her go, all the more quickly (on top of the circumstances)

I also think we could see hints that Levi had already prepared himself to let her go a long time ago, especially with the exchange below. That exchange down there is some character development for Levi. Levi recognizes Hange’s drive to atone for her actions, her drive to fight till the end and not to run away. He recognized that something like that could eventually happen.

Levi has been watching the people he love drop like flies since even before the series even started. And every single time, we have seen his development from ‘stopping Isabel and Farlan from going on a mission with him’ to ‘threaten to break Erwin’s legs’ to ‘I’ll inject Armin instead of Erwin’ to  ‘you know what, I give up we’re probably all gonna die.’ And I think the bleakness of the situation just made letting go just a quicker and quicker process for Levi every time as he saw the hopelessness of each situation and the inevitability of death with every comrade who left him.

Anyway, I hope this meta helps you cope with 132. I mean it’s been 4 chapters but we’re all still crying. 

But hey, at least she made it that far right? I mean she could have died in the first fifty chapters am i right?  :’)

[wordsfromthesol]

Research Paper

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader Summary:  You and Tim get assigned to complete a research paper together. The two of you end up spending way more time together than originally planned. Warnings:  Cursing and balls of fluff Word Count: 2k  A/N: I still have a few requests, they are coming I just haven’t had too much time to write new stuff...so I’ve been posting old stories I’ve already completed. 

The two of you sat at your dining room table, typing away at various research sites and scribbling down miscellaneous notes that could be helpful later. Finally, you looked up at your silent partner.

“So, why the rush to get this research paper done?”

“I’m busy. This is when I have time to do it.”

“Hm –” Before you could continue the thought, Tim cut you off.

“Look, I know you don’t want to be paired with the weird kid. Let’s just finish this and you don’t have to talk to me anymore.”

“Woah there Tim, relax. I don’t know anything about you. Especially not enough to qualify you as the weird kid.” You watched his face turn a slight shade of crimson. “Ya’know, there’s only 20 kids in this class. I bet if you actually talked to some of them you would make friends.” You got up from your seat and sauntered into the kitchen. “So weird kid, you want something to drink?”

“Oh…uhm…I’m fine.” You chuckled to yourself as he stuttered through his response.

“Well, if you insist on completing this in one night, I need some wine. Sure you don’t want a glass?”

“Okay…” Tim hesitantly responded.

**

The bottle was gone and you began to spiral down a YouTube worm hole. Clicking video after video, ending up on the ever popular topic of vigilantes. “Why do you think they do it?” You mumbled out loud, forgetting your research partner was still sitting across from you.

“Why does…” Tim tugged at your computer and glared at the screen before him. The video was paused on an image of Nightwing and Red Robin. He remembered that night. Mr. Freeze had armed some kind of mass freeze ray in the subway system. There were 5 casualties that night. His voice echoed throughout the room. “Sometimes the police aren’t enough. They have too much red tape or not enough training to handle certain criminals.”

“There’s just so many of them…”

“I think they need each other. Each one making sure the others don’t cross a line they can’t come back from. Keeping them responsible for their actions.”

“You think they aren’t just inherent do-gooders running around?”

“No. I don’t. This city is a toxin, no one born of it is inherently good. Everyone comes to a crossroads, some chose to go left and others, right. Once one goes to the left, you may never go back. However, those who chose to go right are always tempted to take a shortcut to the left. Even knowing they could never return.”

“Dang…you should write a book or something Tim.”

“Just a lot of experience I suppose?” You furrowed your brows and shot him a questioning look. “I was…uhm…rescued by Batman awhile back. Though not before my parents were poisoned.”

“I’m so sorry…” Your eyes cast to the ground as your hand reached across the table, landing atop of his. “I didn’t know.”

Tim brushed it off, “I didn’t expect you to know. I don’t advertise it. Anyways, how’s the ACTUAL research coming along.” You rolled your eyes and turned back towards your computer. 

**

Tim realized he hadn’t heard from you in awhile, so he glanced up from his computer. You were asleep at the table. His eyes shot over to the clock, 4:07am. “Shit.” He mumbled under his breath. Tim then sat there debating what to do for several minutes before pushing his chair back and taking you up in his arms. He laid you on your bed, draping the covers over you, before heading back into the dining room. Almost as soon as Tim sat back at his computer, his phone buzzed.

Don’t forget to get some sleep tonight, baby bird.

Dick had started sending reminders almost every night. Tim debated ignoring it, until more messages came in. Jason, Damian, Barbara, Stephanie, even Cassandra had texted him. Dick truly went all out tonight.

I swear if I have to listen to Dick complain about you not sleeping one more time, I will lose it. Go the fuck to sleep, replacement.

Drake, I was just informed to remind you to sleep tonight. May this serve as that reminder.

Dick just let me know you haven’t slept the past two nights. The body can only properly survive without three nights of sleep. Please sleep.

Timothy Jackson Drake. If you do not sleep tonight, I will be forced to take drastic action. One word: computer.

Don’t make me come knock you out.

Tim quickly sent a group message to everyone. Everyone calm down. It’s only been a day and a half. I’m going to sleep now. And Steph, don’t even look at my fucking computer. Tim sighed and threw himself on your couch, welcoming some much-needed sleep.

**

You woke up very confused. You glanced around your room, you definitely did not remember going to bed. You threw your legs over the side and noticed you were still completely dressed. What the fuck. Hesitantly, you opened your bedroom door. Your eyes darted around the room, noting the two computer still at the dining room table. Tip-toeing over to the living room, you saw Tim passed out on the couch, his phone buzzing beside him. You attempted to end the call, but it answered instead. Shit shit shit. You leapt as far from Tim as you could before whispering into the phone.

“Look I didn’t mean to answer this, but Tim is asleep���and he strikes me as the kind of person who doesn’t get much –” The man on the other end cut you off.

“I’m sorry, who is this? Why do you have my brother’s phone?”

“Oh…uhm…I’m in class with him. We were partnered on a research paper. He slept…is sleeping here.” You heard the man sigh before he continued.

“Do me a favor and try not to wake him, but tell him Dick called when he does get up.”

“Uh…sure…”

“Oh and put his phone on silent…actually I’ll just block the calls from here. Oh and thanks...I didn’t actually get your name.”

“Y/N.”

“Right, thanks again Y/N.”

You hung up the phone on the weirdest conversation ever and set it next to his computer. You snatched yours up and went back into your bedroom. Might as well get some work done while you waited for Tim to wake up. A few more hours passed and you heard footsteps coming from your living room. Thank god, I so need coffee. You threw open the door and saw Tim standing over his computer.

“Oh, uhm, sorry I slept here last night.”

You waved off the apology, “No problem. What time did we stop?”

“I noticed you were asleep at like 4 in the morning. So I…” Tim ran his finger through his hair, “I just figured the bed was more comfortable.” You smirked as you watched his face turn crimson. Stronger than he looks apparently. “Then I thought it was probably best not to leave that late…so I just crashed on the couch.”

“So we didn’t finish then? As in you better not have finished it without me.”

Tim held up his hands in defense. “No no, I stopped once I saw you were asleep.”

“Well…want coffee and some...” you glanced at the clock. It was nearly noon, “brunch I guess.”

“Oh, uh…if you’re offering? Then sure, I guess.”

“Great, then we can just finish up today.” You made your way to the kitchen, “Oh your brother called.”

Tim’s eyebrows furrowed, “which one?”

“You have multiple? Uh…Dick, I think he said.”

“Yeah, three of them. Do you mind if I call him back?”

You shook your head as you put on the coffee. Tim grabbed the phone from the table and went into your bathroom.

“Dick? Is something wrong?”

“Nah, Alfred just told me you hadn’t been back to the Manor yet. Wanted to make sure we didn’t need to send search and rescue.”

“I’m fine. Listen, do you mind if you cover my patrol tonight?”

“Oh, hot date with Y/N?”

“How do you – nevermind. No, we are finishing a project.”

“Hm, whatever you want to tell yourself Timmy. She seemed sweet on you though.”

“How – who even says that anymore? Are you 60 years old?”

“Awe, look who’s deflecting.”

“Bye Dick!” Tim screamed into the phone before hanging up on his brother.

**

After brunch was had, the two of you got back to work. However, it didn’t take long for you to get sidetracked.

“Alright, if I sit in this damn chair for another minute I’m going to have permanent back problems. I’m moving to the couch.” You huffed out, before scooping up your computer and plopping down sideways with your back against the armrest. Surprisingly, Tim joined you, propping is feet up on the coffee table. Once the two of you moved to the couch, no more work got done.

“So you close with your family?” You began the barrage of questions. People often called you out for being nosy, but you still couldn’t help it.

“Oh,” Tim glanced up from his computer. “Yeah, I suppose. Too close sometimes.”

“Eh, they wouldn’t be family otherwise. I gather you have a big one?”

“What are we playing 20 questions?”

“Just curious…”

Tim huffed, but began to answer your question anyways. “Yeah, I guess. Though it’s a family forged from bonds, not blood.”

“I’d say that’s the better kind. You chose to stay with and support them, as opposed to being guilted into it because they’re family.”

“Well that clearly struck a chord.”

You shrugged it off, “So three brothers. Blood or bond?”

“Well…a forced bond? Bruce adopted all of us, except Damian I guess.”

You continued to pose questions to your newfound friend, though you found getting most answers was like pulling teeth. Eventually, you made progress and after a few hours you closed your laptop, which had been long since asleep, and tossed it to the floor. “I vote take away and a movie.”

“But we haven’t finished.” Tim argued.

“And I don’t think we are going to tonight. Come on, we still have a month. Relax a little, we’re like 75% done anyways.”

“I –” Before he could protest further you pulled yourself off the couch and reached for your phone.

“I vote Thai.”

You heard a sigh come from the other end of the couch, “Sounds good.” A smile grazed your face as you placed the order and settled comfortably back on the couch. You turned on the movie and didn’t realize you were laying half on Tim until the doorbell roused you. This time it was your turn to don a shade of red. Thankfully, it was too dark for Tim to see.

**

The food was gone and the movie continued to play in the background, but the two of you were fast asleep laying against each other. That was, until Tim heard a knock on the window. He looked up to see the familiar costumes of his older brothers. He gently held you in place with one arm, while stretching to grab his phone with the other. Tim quickly typed a message.

I’m clearly alive. Leave me the fuck alone.

Tim saw Dick smirk through the window just before a bright white light shone through. Tim’s phone buzzed.

Look Timbers found someone to put up with him.

Of course Jason just had to send that in the group message. Tim typed out his response.

I’m muting this conversation until further notice. Also I’m never telling you guys where I am ever again.

That’s alright, I’m sure Y/N won’t mind telling me. We had a great conversation earlier.

Tim ignored the baited message Dick sent and threw his phone to the other side of the couch before settling back into the comfortable position at your side.  

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

Hi, I just eondered, what could be the reasons for fighting with boys and how they generally feel about this? Are they waiting for the first step, or are they making amends on their own? How do they choose to make up? Do they provoke serious fights?

So, I’ve done like one fic where I mention a fight with them, but this is definitely something I have some headcanons about. I’m gonna do this separate, because I think each boy is different when it comes to fights

The Lost Boys x Fighting with their S/O

David

Fights with David don’t happen often. David picked you because he needs someone to be the submissive to his dominant personality, and that includes letting him get his way 99% of the time. David likes control, and he doesn’t like being questioned. Because he’s the main decision maker, most of your fights happen when you disagree with him.

David doesn’t mean to be an ass (okay, sometimes he does), but he genuinely doesn’t think that whenever you argue with him you’re being serious. He’s the one in charge. He’s the one that gets to make decisions. He’s the one that when he says jump you ask how high. So, if you disagree with him enough to actually start an argument about it, David won’t take you seriously. He’ll think that maybe he just needs to convince you, because letting you have your way isn’t really even a thought in his head. He might even coo at you at how cute you are for thinking that you have any say in how this goes. If the fight continues and you give him sass, you’re in trouble

With a flip of a switch, he’s as cold as ice. The mood will change at the drop of a hat, and all the teasing from before will seem like a lifetime away. He’ll stare down at you, and say in an unnervingly calm voice, “Now, listen here, kitten. I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, but it ain’t me.”

David won’t necessarily yell during major fights, but he definitely won’t hold back from saying whatever he wants to say. His tongue can cut like a razor, and he refuses to apologize for anything that he said later on. If you two do end up having a major fight, he’ll send one of the boys to talk to you for him. This can either go the route of you coming to him and choosing to let water flow under the bridge (the two of you will pretend it never happened) or you refusing to talk to him. If you choose the latter, he’ll come talk to you after about a week has past. He still considers you his and he doesn’t want to lose you, but you’re aware any apologies said by him first probably aren’t genuine. If you talk to him about it, he’ll explain why he felt the way he did and he’ll allow you to explain the same. The two of you will come to a compromise (one that usually sways just a little bit more in his favor) and then you two can go back as if nothing happened

If you want to get through to him (which is like trying to get through a brick wall once his mind is made up) without a major fight occuring, you either have to have some major (most likely sexual) leverage or be 100% respectful. You have to carefully explain why you feel the way that you do, and why you don’t want to do the thing that he wants. He’ll stare at you the entire time, and he will actually listen! He just might not change his mind anyways. This is where leverage comes in. David isn’t completely unreasonable. He’s not Max. He can be swayed. He just needs there to be something in it for him that is considered more desirable than the pleasure he gets from getting his way. Sexual favors are a really easy substitute

If Davids the one that’s mad at you, all you have to do is agree to what he wants and let him be as dominating as he wants in the bedroom afterwards. Your legs may be sore, but your vampire boyfriend is definitely happier

Dwayne

Dwayne doesn’t like fighting. It doesn’t matter if they happen often or not, fighting with Dwayne is completely one-sided. He believes in talking things out rather than letting things fester, and you have his full trust. He’s a ‘fix-it’ type of guy. The minute he feels something is wrong, he’ll talk to you about it. He’ll get your point of view and he’ll try to adjust accordingly. So ‘fights’ are on you

That doesn’t mean Dwayne doesn’t ever get angry. He’s a pretty physical guy when it comes to his anger, but he’ll never direct it at you. When he’s upset, he may break a few things just to get the stress out of his system. He never does that in front of you, however. He would never want you to be scared of him, and he keeps those feelings bottled up until you’re gone. Rip to the boys if they decide to tease him when you two are fighting

You can cry, scream, and even throw things at him. It doesn’t matter how much you try to egg him on. He’ll stand there like a statue until you get everything out of your system, and then he’ll just pull you to his chest and ask you if you’re ready to talk. He’d rather you be explosive with your anger than shut him out. He’s not the best with his words, so confronting someone that doesn’t want to talk can be extremely hard for him.

Dwayne will definitely make amends on his own. Even if he doesn’t understand why you’re upset, he’ll still be the one that comes to you first. He doesn’t want you to be angry at him for long, and confronting you is the easiest way to get it over with.

If you block him out, Dwayne won’t know what to do. He’ll try to give you space and wait for you to come to him, but Dwayne wouldn’t be able to stand not talking to you for a few days. Especially since you’re the one that’s mad at him. He’d come to your window and knock on it, and he wouldn’t care if you greeted him with a smile or a glare. He’s just happy to see you. He may even bring you a gift to try to get you to lighten up, and it can anything from a bracelet he made himself or something he stole for you from the boardwalk

Once you let him inside, expect a long conversation about what’s wrong, why, and what he can do to fix it. Even if it’s something he can’t necessarily change (like girls coming up to him at the boardwalk or something), he’ll still promise to do his best to stop it. He’ll come up with a detailed plan as to how you two can go about the problem, and you two may even develop a system where you can tell him when you’re feeling upset about that specific issue

If it’s a reoccurring issue, you two will have to address that perhaps it’s a little out of his control. If so, unfortunately, you’ll just have to get over it. He’ll still try his best to stop it from happening, but there’s so much that he can do

Dwayne will make up through cuddling. He’s just happy to have you back in his arms again, and he may need some reassurance that you still love him just as much as you did before. He takes fights to heart, and that’s why he doesn’t like them or want them to spiral out of control

Marko

Marko is a complete wildcard. Every fight with him is for different, and it’s a coin toss on how he’s going to react. Somethings that you think will piss him off, won’t. Somethings that you never imagined would annoy him, will. It’s a guessing game with him, and your fights are pretty fifty-fifty in terms of who starts them. 

Usually, he’ll retreat into his own head and he’ll try to be calm at first. He’s scarily good at suddenly putting up an unreadable front, but he’s boiling on the inside. You have one chance to put out the fire before it completely takes over, and this has to be done rather quickly. 

You can succeed by immediately apologizing or by explaining what made you so upset. He’s usually quick to accept your apology and give you a kiss, letting everything settle back to normal. If he realizes that he really did do something wrong, then he’ll genuinely apologize and do whatever he needs to for you to forgive him.

If he still thinks that you did something wrong and that he can’t forgive you just yet or refuses to accept responsibility for his actions, it’s uh-oh spaghetti-o’s. But one things for sure. When you two get into a fight-fight, it gets ugly

Sometimes, he’ll annoy you on accident with his lack of care towards something that’s important to you. Sometimes, you’ll say or do something small and he’ll turn it into a much bigger deal.

There can be harsh words, refusals to apologize or consider how you feel, or even him kicking over barrels (lit or unlit). You two can yell and scream all you like, but you’re only really in trouble if he falls silent. That’s when he’s really mad

His eyes will flash yellow and his vampiric features will start to slip out, and if you keep the fight going then he’ll have to walk away to stop himself from doing something he’ll regret later. He would never try to kill you in the fit of a rage, but his vampire instincts are hardest for him to control

If you’re a vampire like he is, all bets are off. He’ll snarl and snap his teeth at you, falling back on his most basic vampire instincts. He’ll get in your face until you submit and agree to end the fight, and then he’ll start to calm down. It may take some physical affection on your part (a hug, kiss, or some petting), but eventually he’ll sigh and the two of you can start moving on to making amends

It’s rare that after a fight-fight he’ll be the one that tries to make amends first. You have to wait until he calms down, usually after a quick meal or some affection, and then you two can talk it out. Once you’re done figuring out the issue, Marko only has one thing on his mind. Make up sex. Much like jealous sex, he lets his vampiric side come out during these times. Expect to be bitten. It’s his way of marking you, of making you his again. To him, it gets rid of any distance that may have appeared between the two of you during your fight and brings you back to being as thick as thieves

Paul

Pauls usually a pretty happy guy. Fights with him are extremely rare, as he’s usually too stoned to really be bothered by anything 90% of the time. But, unlike the rest of the boys, a lot of the fights are his fault in one way or another. It’s usually because he does something wrong or something stupid, and he doesn’t realize how he may have hurt you until he already has

This boy is a bit of an idiot, so when you tell him that he did something he’ll genuinely look at you with confusion. A big reason most of your fights escalate is because Paul has a big fucking mouth. It may have started off as something small, but Paul just had to have the stupidest response and now you’re even more ticked off

Your fights involve tempers flaring and his big mouth making things a million times worse. He doesn’t even mean for half the things he says to come out the way that they do! He just says the first thing that comes to mind, and his brain is currently on autopilot

Expect tears from both parties. The two of you will completely be in eachothers faces, screaming at the top of your lungs, and waterworks are definitely going to start when either one of you gets too into it. Expect his vampire face to be out, but he won’t fall back on his vampire instincts. He’s too busy thinking of arguments to say to really focus on how his instincts are driving him to act

Paul is the only one of the boys who would pause mid-fight to have hate sex with you. He’s so heated and you’re so cute when you’re mad that he’ll grab you and crash his lips onto yours. Fangs and all. If this occurs, the fight is over by the time the two of you have finished.

Otherwise, you two either have to be broken up by the others, or one of you will have to walk away. It’s a toss up on who it is, but either way don’t expect Paul to shut up. He’ll either angrily mutter things the entire time he walks away or he’ll call after you as you take a break from the situation. 

Paul will try to be stubborn at first. He won’t want to talk to you and fix things. He’s perfectly content with acting like the big pouty baby that he is and sitting in a corner in the cave. But if almost an hour has passed and you’re still not coming over to apologize? He’ll march right up to you and start the fight all over again. Just because he wants to talk to you

If you refuse and give him the silent treatment, he’ll scoff and walk away. Only to be back five minutes later. He’ll sit down next to you and just grumble, “I miss you.” with a pout on his face. And then he’ll do his best to get you to talk to him again. He doesn’t care what he has to do. He can’t stand you giving him the silent treatment, and it’s enough to make him ready to tear the hair right out of his head. Paul hates being ignored, and he’ll whine and beg for your attention

He’ll make up by promising whatever you want him to promise. He’ll even hold himself to his word. Then, as soon as you two are back on good terms, he’s back to being the handsy ball of sunshine that he is. He’ll probably want make up sex right afterwards, mainly because he feels all pent up and frustrated with nowhere to put it. He’s as cool as a cucumber after everything, and won’t hold a single grudge. To be honest, he’s already forgotten what you two were even arguing about

[dragonologist-in-the-making]

Transfer Student

Pairing: Sirius x reader (Ilvermorny transfer)

Request: hello, wanted to say i really enjoy your writing!! can i request a sirius blac x ilvermorny transfer student!reader in the marauder's era? a kind of enemies to lovers type fic where the reader's new and sorted into slytherin and is already getting a lot of attention and popularity for being american and outgoing but sirius doesn't get the hype lmao so he teases about her accent and other american things and she bickers back but deep down they're just fighting bc they like each other. thank you!

A/N: Thank you! And thanks for the request! I hope you like it, sorry if it seems a little short or not developed fully. Just a note about requests, as it stands I think I have seven to do, but they’re all Sirius x reader so I think I’ll space them out a little for the sake of being able to write about someone else too. I’m dying to write some James, Charlie and Newt.

Wordcount: 1.3k

Warnings: None!!

 She approached the castle with apprehension. Transferring schools was never easy, but especially not so when she had also moved continents and had no friends to speak of. Her parents had moved to Britain from America for their work, and although they didn’t want to pull her out of her old school, Ilvermorny, but knew they had no choice but to make the move and take her with them. She walked up the steps and into a large entrance hall, which was mainly empty, other than the odd student, and a woman stood with a velvet green cloak and a pointy hat.

“Miss (y/l/n).” She greeted the girl, extending her hand which was shaken hastily. “My name is Professor McGonagall, I’m deputy headmistress here at Hogwarts and the Head of Gryffindor House.” She explained, waving her wand as (y/n)’s trunk floated up next to her, as the professor gestured to be followed. “I usually oversee the sorting ceremony at the start of each year for the first years, and so I will be escorting you to Professor Dumbledore’s office so we can sort you into a house now.” The young witch nodded, only half paying attention to the words being spoken to her, trying to familiarise herself with the castle and push away the anxiety that was rising in her chest. They stopped in front of a stone gargoyle, which promptly spun around to reveal a spiral staircase once McGonagall had whispered the password. As they stepped onto the stairs and began to move towards the office, (y/n) steeled herself, ready to face her new future.

 A few weeks had passed since her arrival, and (y/n) (y/l/n) was settling in as well as she could at Hogwarts. The sorting hat had sorted her into Slytherin house, and the girls in her dormitory were kind and more than happy to include her in their activities, as well as helping her to catch up on what they had been learning in their classes. Being an American transfer, she seemed like the shiny new toy of the school – it had taken a while for the whispers and the stares to die down as she walked through the corridors in the first week. Now, though, most people were treating her normally, they had gotten used to her accent, mostly, and they realised she was just as normal as everyone else. Most people, because a certain Sirius Black was definitely not used to her yet, and took every opportunity he could to tease her.

 “Hey America!” He shouted at her as she walked through the entrance hall. “Come on, let us hear that pretty accent of yours.” He pleaded – from the moment she had first opened her mouth he had found delight in mocking her accent, in pulling apart the different words she used or the way she would pronounce certain words differently.

 Refusing to give into his antics, feeling a flash of anger through her chest, wishing she knew why he refused to accept her, her only response to the raven haired boy with the stormy grey eyes was to flip him off, smiling triumphantly to herself a little as his friends laughed behind her at his failed attempt.

 Sirius’ attention refused to waver as the school year continued, but realising that he could never catch your attention for long with his snide remarks (“Obviously she’s not going to give you the time of day with the way you speak to her.” Had been James’ remark, complete with a roll of his eyes), he had turned instead to light hearted teasing and flirting, although most of the time this descended into bickering.

 Although she wouldn’t admit it, and she more than happy to complain about his antics, secretly she adored the attention he would give her. She knew his reputation, that hadn’t been a hard piece of gossip to pick up on, she knew that his attention on a girl never lasted more than a few days. Except for her. His attention had expanded further than the classroom too, now when she was studying alone in the library, he always seemed to ‘accidentally’ stumble upon her, sitting next to her and making joking remarks the whole time, which she was happy to retort. These hours in his company made her understand him much more, and rarely, in between the teasing and the bickering, they would have a real conversation, about their families, friends, lives. When he wasn’t there, she had started to strain her eyes looking for him, hoping that he would come and bother her again. She had realised too late that she had started falling for Sirius Black.

 She was in the library again, it was a free period and she couldn’t study very well in her dim common room. She was studying a transfiguration textbook very closely, trying to complete the essay McGonagall had set them the day before, when she heard the scraping of chair legs beside her, and smiled slightly, knowing who had approached her.

 “Do they not teach you in Slytherin that you won’t need to know this stuff once you’ve joined the dark side?” He whispered, pointing to the essay she had been working on as she huffed and rolled her eyes. Picking on her about being in Slytherin  was one of his favourite things to do, but (y/n) knew enough of his story to understand why, which helped lessen her anger to mild irritation at his words.

 “I’m ambitious, Sirius, not evil. I know what I want and I’ll work hard to make sure I get it.” She whispered back, pulling the parchment closer towards her and carrying on writing. “You know full well I don’t agree with blood purity and all that nonsense. Talent is talent, take it where you can get it.” She responded, looking up at his eyes which she was surprised to see already looking at her, with what she thought was a hint of… pride? Satisfaction? She searched his grey orbs with her own, trying to see what they held and getting slightly lost in the process.

“Found a new appreciation for pretty faces?” He asked, snapping her out of it as she turned away from him with a scoff, letting her hair fall over her shoulder to hide the embarrassment at being caught.

 “Oh, is James here?” She asked without too much thought, knowing that teasing him about his best friend was bound to strike a nerve. She was right, he huffed and crossed his arms in front of him. She was able to work in silence for a few more minutes, until he piped up again.

 “Why do you argue with me so much?” He asked. She turned to look at him, incredulous at his words.

 “Why do I argue with you?” she asked, shaking her head very slightly in disbelief. “You’re the one who’s been picking on me since the day I got here.”

 “But I stopped that, I tried to be nice to you!” He argued back, the both of them standing up by this point, her essay long forgotten on the table.

 “By teasing me incessantly and bickering?” She countered.

 “If it meant actually getting you to talk to me, yes!” By this point, they were stood chest to chest, both staring intensely into each other’s eyes. Before either one of them knew what was happening, his hands were cupping her cheeks and her lips were on his, hands in his hair and the both of them channelling everything they had been trying but couldn’t say into the kiss, one that was so full of emotion it was overwhelming. They broke away abruptly when Madame Pince caught them and shouted at them, causing them both to laugh as they looked up at each other again, happy that they had finally embraced their feelings for each other.