#doing really good ! on the personal side of things too

[maghendearey]

I’m begging you please write something for dad!Lando Norris maybe he is streaming with Max f and y/n walks in with their kid and lando just goes from game raging to being the softest person ever

I love this idea so much and am so excited to put it into action. Sorry if it took a while. If any of you have any ideas, my requests are open.

Baby days

Masterlist

:in which Lando decided to stream on one evening and ends up cuddling with the children

triggerwarnings:none

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Since Lando was little, he only wanted a few things, to find a best friend: which came in the form of Max, to get into F1: he managed in the year 2019 and to win a world championship: he hadn't done that yet but was well on his way.

What wasn't on his plan, however, was you, when you broke down on the side of the road with your car problem and he stopped because you were somewhere in the mountains and he wasn't going to leave you there overnight without any help. What wasn't on his plan, however, was your beautiful smile and your sense of humor which was so bad it made everyone in the room laugh. What wasn't on his plan was that he would make you his girlfriend, that you would get on really well with his family and that Max, his best friend, would soon be like a brother to you. And what was least on the agenda was that at the age of 23 you would become a father to a little girl, Maja, and at the age of 25 you would become a father for the second time, in this case to a little boy, Oliver-Max.

He didn't quit F1 and to be honest, you didn't want him to either. You loved him and what the sport meant to him. And even though that meant he wasn't home a lot, the time he was there he was completely there for you and the little ones. He loved them and he loved you too, madly. He would die for the three of you in seconds if he had to. And even when he was home today, you had allowed him to stream on the computer with his friends; it was good for him to switch off and besides, Oliver, who really was the cutest baby, was already asleep on your chest. And Maja was watching Cars. You thought that film was weak but she had inherited her weakness for F1 from her father. Although she couldn't do anything with a go-kart yet because her little feet couldn't reach the pedals, you still knew that one day she would be a really good driver.

You left Maja alone in her room for a moment, the tablet in her little hand, and the film still playing, to put Oliver to bed. As you walked past Lando's streaming room with the baby in your arms, you heard him cursing loudly. You didn't really mind, but if he was that loud, it would wake Oliver up. So you knocked gently on the door before pushing down the doorknob. When he didn't answer, but presumably didn't hear you, you pushed down the doorknob and went in with the baby. Lando was wearing headphones, so he couldn't hear you. You stepped behind him and gently tapped his shoulder, which made him flinch. He took off his headphones and looked up at me, his smile changing from professional to loving in an instant. "My baby," he said, taking your son from your arms. You knew that "my baby" meant not just him but you too, because he didn't just take the baby from your arms. but also pulled you onto his lap. Your little boy pointed with his fingers at the screen, which your gaze also wandered to. There was not only the game but also Max, who was smiling brightly at you. "Hey, how are you?" Max asked, whom you could clearly hear through the headphones that were now on Lando's shoulder. It was difficult to concentrate because Lando's head was tucked into your neck and his lips were on your baby's forehead. "I'm fine, Max." You were just about to ask, but before you could, you heard the little footsteps running down the hallway and into your room with Lando. She must have heard Max's voice, because the one thing she loved besides F1 was definitely Max. But before she could do anything, you pulled Maja onto your lap.

Shortly after, Lando ended the stream; he wanted time with you. He wanted to kiss you, hold you, and spend the evening with you, Maja, and Oliver, with lots and lots of cuddles.

You didn't care about anything. You didn't care that you only got to bed in the middle of the night today, you didn't care that you'd both be overtired tomorrow. And you also didn't care that the photos from the stream would be all over the internet tomorrow. Because no matter what you were like, you were together. Totally in love and more than happy with everything you had and will have forever.

I hope you liked it and I was able to implement your idea. I wish you all a nice day.

Love you all 💋

[thelawfulchaotic]

Punishment doesn’t work. It might stop something right away — a short-term relief — a boost of endorphins: in the person doing the punishment. In this way, punishing is self-reinforcing. People condition themselves to punish others because of the good feeling it brings when the undesired behavior is stopped.

But there’s too much shit that takes place in the background. Destruction taking place on an emotional, intellectual, and even physical, cellular level. If you’re talking school, children learn to crumple up their own dreams and throw them away. If you’re talking criminal justice, entire families, generations, neighborhoods, cities broken by the constant torture of surveillance and enforcement, of being jailed and stripped and dehumanized and blamed for it. If you’re talking social media, do you really think making someone feel bad and sad and angry will make them appreciate your side of things more?

People don’t learn from scuttling away from What Is Bad. They learn by affirming What Is Good. Humans are animals, and animals learn by positive reinforcement.

"Punishment works!!!" We're drowning in three to four generations of people so pants-shittingly terrified of ever being wrong that half of everyone has constructed a worldview wherein they never even consider the possibility that they could be wrong and the other half behaves like one wrong move will make anything or anyone explode violently into a million irreperable pieces. I don't think it works guys

[keferon]

A second, a mistake

.............................................

Prowl wanted to vomit, vomit, and scream. He would have added crying to that list, but it seemed like he was already doing it, or was it the return to reality that was blurring his vision?

The medical team had to break the rust-covered window of his mecha to extract him. Rust, rust everywhere, and that damn smell.

People were talking to him, but he couldn't hear them. His ears were ringing, and yet Bluestreak's voice echoed over and over again within him: "You have to leave me. It's okay, we signed up for this, remember? The ups and downs of the job. We're going to save people, millions of people, I'm proud of that. Please, Prowl, press the button, everything will be fine. If I have to choose an ending, this is the one I want." He should never have done it, he should have found another solution. His mecha was designed to calculate and anticipate everything all the time, and yet he hadn't managed to save him.

So yes, the portal closed, yes the rust had stopped, yes lives had been saved... but the most important one had been lost.

He could have, SHOULD have saved him. The more he replayed the situation, the more he saw the mistakes made, even though they had been so obvious... It had taken a second of inattention to break everything.

He hadn't been quick enough, and it had cost his brother his life.

Prowl didn't want pity. People apologized to him every time they saw him, offering their "condolences." Yet none of them helped him make any progress.

The doctors had given him a prescription: no piloting for several months. It was stupid, they were stupid. Every day, every second spent outside of his mecha seemed like another life lost. Without his iron armor, without his sensors and his countless commands, Prowl felt useless. Stuck in his quarters or in a hospital bed, he couldn't calculate, couldn't predict, couldn't help.

He made mistakes every second, and he couldn't afford it anymore.

He had made several requests to the scientists and mechanists of the program. He wanted to improve his computer's AI, allow it to calculate faster, and he wanted to add sensors to make sure he didn't miss anything in his environment. The answer was always the same: "Are you crazy?! You'll fry your brain with this!" "Prowl, you know I can't do that, it's too dangerous!"

Why did they care about the danger now? Their job was dangerous, hundreds of pilots lost their lives every day, and no one cared; they hadn't even held a memorial for his brother.

He felt lost, frustrated by the world around him, by his incompetence, by his slow brain, by his shortsightedness. He thought he'd lost everything, until one person came.

Tarantula wasn't a trustworthy person, nor a sane person, but he was smart. His ideas were dangerous but good, and Prowl needed them. He was the only one offering him help, and no matter how many surgeries, things added under his skin, or harmful side effects, he would never make a single mistake again.

.............................................

-🦇🐧

Comming back from the dead with angst :)

OH MY FUCKING GOD HI HELLO I REALLY MISSED SEEING THESE SPECIFIC TWO EMOJIS IN MY ASKS

[callsign-swan]

Back To You

Valentina finds a way to control Bob and The Sentry: His wife.

Warnings: addiction (bc, yk, Sentry), thunderbolts spoilers, canon divergence

A sense of foreboding filled her as she stepped into the elevator. The message had been cryptic, but the reward was too good to be true.

The lack of elevator music had the bad feeling in her stomach intensifying. As it travelled up, she checked the message on her phone again. It was the right building in the right city, in the right State.

Part of her couldn't believe it was this building. When her husband first went missing, she didn't believe he would end up here.

Months of searching had led to this moment. He had been clean on her wedding day, all thanks to her support. Cooking him healthy, nutritious meals, taking him on walks.

There were good nights and there were bad nights. A lot of bad nights. Nights were he wasn't her husband, he became someone else. Someone she didn't know.

But she was still there, holding his hand, stroking her fingers over his palm. Bringing him back to himself, running her fingers through his hair and kissing his lips.

But then, one day, after what felt like weeks of bad days, he disappeared. No word, nothing. He just... left, giving her no clue as to where he was going.

But she searched. She searched and searched, turning up nothing. Nobody knew where her husband, the man she loved so dearly, was. Nights spent crying herself to sleep, trying not to go down the same path he did. It would have been so easy to slip, to put herself into his mindset, all for the sake of finding him.

The only thing keeping her hope alive all of these months was the fact that a body was never found.

But then she got this message. The address. He's here. There was only one He it could be, only one He she cared about.

The elevator doors didn't ding before they opened. They just slid open. There was nothing remarkable about it.

Funny, she thought this moment would be something... more.

People, laying on the floor. Some had blood, some had bruises. All of them had the shit beaten out of them.

Wide eyed, she looked from person to person. Why had she been brought her, forced to witness the aftermath of all of this violence.

But then, she looked up.

His hair was longer, blonde, too. The suit was flashy, to say the least. But it was him. It was her Bob.

Before she knew what she was doing, she was running towards him. "Bobby," she said through a gasp as he threw someone to the side like they weighed nothing

It was him. It was her Bob. The same eyes, blue as the deepest ocean, lighting up the moment he saw her.

Nothing else in the world seemed to matter to him. He called her name, a quiet desperation in his voice. When she threw herself at him, he caught her easily.

Eyes closed, Bob wrapped both arms around her. He held her as close as he possibly could and breathed in. Her, it was all her. Her ring was still on her finger, a perfect symbol of what their marriage should have been. His was long gone, pawned off for drug money. God, he had been such an idiot back then.

But, fuck, that didn't matter to her.

She pulled away from him, looked at his face. "You've gone blonde, Bobby," she whispered as she took him in.

There was something so sweet about the way he laughed. His eyes searched her face, as if he couldn't believe she was real, she was really there.

"I looked for you," she said as she settled her hand on his chest. "Everywhere, Bobby. Where did you go?"

"'m sorry," he whispered. "I was tryina get better so that I could come home to you. I don't know what happened after that."

Finally, she looked around. The people on the floor, with the shit beaten out of them, were gone, disappeared into the elevator while Bob was distracted with her.

Her hand touched his cheek, just holding. Soft, familiar hands against his cheek were exactly what he needed, a sweet, gentle touch to heal him. "Doesn't matter," she mumbled. "I found you."

She kissed him, the ground disappearing from beneath her feet as Bob lifted her up. He didn't mean to, maybe it was a sign his control was slipping.

When they touched back down and pulled away from each other, Bob frowned. "How did you find me?" He asked.

She scrambled to pull her phone from her pocket. "I got a text telling me where to find you," she said.

His arm dropped to her waist as he pulled her against him. His way of keeping her safe. "You brought her here?" He asked Valentina.

Valentina looked behind the couple, at Mel. Of course this was her doing, her genius plan. What better way to control the power of Sentry than with his wife?

"I did," Valentina said, nodding her head.

Bob reached out for her hand. He gasped it and shook, thanking her over and over again.

But then his attention turned back to his wife. This was where she belonged, by his side. Not in The old avengers tower, but in the apartment they shared.

His job at The chicken place barely paid for anything, and her office job wasn't doing much more. But that was their home.

When Valentina ordered him to kill the others, Bob refused. Why should he, when they were no threat to him? Besides, he had something much more important by his side.

"C'mon, Robert," Valentina said. Her fingers danced across his wife's shoulders before she gripped her arm and pulled her back. She moved too fast for Bob, even with all of the power he had.

But he couldn't risk hurting his wife.

Valentina had found his weak spot and exploited it. For the safety of his wife, Bob would do anything.

[navydoves]

Mine soon enough

✎ᝰ cw. professor zayne, tense atmosphere, teacher/student, suggestive, somewhat yearning, very conversational writing, TENSE!

✎ᝰ a/n. i’m inconsistent in everything i post lol. this is written in a very specific way, hopefully it comes across in the tone i want it to.

࣪𖤐

“am i really allowed to be here after office hours like this?”

zayne glances back at you from where he was standing by the tea kettle on his desk and smiles just slightly. “why not? this is my office after all.”

“yeah, but,” you hesitate, “most other professors are really strict on their schedules. i didn’t expect you to be so um… lenient about this.”

a small, almost imperceptible chuckle escapes zayne. “you do know i’m only this lenient on you, right? god i the headache i’d have if i had any other pesky students showing up and bothering me after hours.”

you glance to the side awkwardly and nod. “yeah… i know… it’s just a little strange… being your ‘favorite’ and all…”

“does it make you feel uncomfortable?” zayne’s voice cuts in quickly. he was clicking off the tea kettle now and preparing the two mugs with their respective tea bags.

“n-no�� no it doesn’t,” you respond just as fast, “it’s just… not familiar to me. don’t take it personally professor, i only—“

“zayne,” he corrects while pouring the boiling water into the mugs. “zayne is better. you should get over all your formal habits when you’re alone with me. we’re friends, right?”

there’s a beat between you two before you nod.

“yes, friends.”

“well then as long as you’re not uncomfortable and we’re in equal footing here, there should be no problem. you would tell me if there was a problem right?”

another beat.

“yes… i would.”

zayne smiles slightly again. he places the kettle back down and starts properly dipping the teabags into the mugs before throwing them into the small can on the side.

“good. here, come get your tea.”

you move from where you were sat on the leather couch to zayne’s desk. the room was quiet apart from your gentle footsteps and zayne’s spoon swirling. you take your mug, identical to his, and scoop up a few spoonfuls of sugar. your gaze remains on the task below you rather than the man in front of you. he notices this.

“y’know i prefer tea over coffee too. i’ve always hated the bitter taste of coffee beans… even with all the sugar and cream added to it,” zayne hums.

you glance up at him and almost cringe at his attempt at conversation. “yeah, same. i’m not a coffee person…”

zayne looks you up and down with brows furrowed from scrutiny. he picks up his mug and takes a sip, eyes darting to the side in slight annoyance.

“lighten up a bit,” he murmurs. “i invited you to spend time with you. you know how much i enjoy your presence. i'd rather you not feel… weirded out.”

you finally stop stirring and meet zayne’s eyes for the first time. “i’m not… i don’t feel weirded out…”

“you do though,” he rebuttals, “you’re all tense and avoidant. am i doing something? we can take our leave, truly. just tell me.”

a small exhale escapes you after a moment of thought. you shake your head. “no, i’m… like i said im just not used to this. this type of treatment. the… personal hangouts we have in your office. the gifts. the grades. i think… i think we both know things are…”

zayne puts his mug down and mimics your earlier exhale. he moves around the desk and your eyes follow him. right behind you is where he stands, taller and towering, with his chin hovered just over your shoulder.

“i don’t want that to be a problem,” he whispers by your ear. “the hangouts, gifts, grades. i don’t want those to be a problem. i want to give you more, y’know? more… more of everything. are we overstepping lines? sure… but—“

“you are over stepping lines,” you murmur with a slightly shaky voice. the lingering warmth of him behind you was almost trapping you against the desk. “i… i haven’t done anything, you’ve done… you’ve made all the…”

“have you… not liked the attention?” zayne asks almost vulnerably.

“i never said that…”

“then is there an issue? you’re right, i’m overstepping lines, not you. if we got into some heat, i’d take the responsibility. does that mean something to you?” in the moments you hesitate to answer, zayne’s arm wraps around your waist and gently pulls you closer to an embrace. “i want it to mean something to you. what do i have to do?” he continues.

you wet your lips and search the desk below you for answers your mouth couldn’t form. you weren’t sure how long had passed before zayne backed off, but once he did, you quickly turn around to face him. he steps away with his arms up innocently, a look of shame on him.

“i’m sorry, im making you uncomfortable. im not sure what im doing.”

with your eyes avoiding each other, a long silence ensues between the both of you—charged with emotion and uncertainty.

“your tea is going to get cold, professor.”

zayne knits his brows together and trails his gaze slowly across the room, and then on you, and then on the tea.

“right.”

he steps back to his side of the desk and takes his still warm tea and avoids your presence while drinking. whether he wanted you here anymore or not, it was unclear. he notices your rogue, discarded mug of tea on the desk. barely touched and getting colder by the second. maybe it looked like regret.

your back was turned to him and facing the rest of the room, but you were still so close to the desk. unmoving. what was going through your mind, that was also unclear.

slowly, you put down your arms that were crossed in a defensive position, and glance down at the desk. zayne was no longer sipping his tea. you could only assume he was standing as silently and awkwardly as you were.

without much thought, you step back and sit on the desk, back still to zayne.

“my face is turned away, if it makes you feel any less guilty,” you whisper.

zayne’s eyes widen slightly. he looks over your body that was perched up on his desk. what a sight. “don’t say that like i’m some sort of… some sort of…”

“i’m not… insinuating anything, professor… or i guess ‘zayne’. i’m simply saying that, in the situation we’re in right now, guilt is normal to feel. but that… curiosity is too. so… i’m looking away.”

more tense silence.

“are you curious too?” zayne asks with a voice that’s barely there.

you don’t answer for a few moments.

“i’m a woman, zayne,” you murmur. “i can make my own decisions. we’re not too far off in age, yknow. we think similarly… i hope.”

amidst the quiet of the room, zayne walks closer to the desk. he stares right into your back and all of the crumpled fabric lines from your shirt.

“you’re a woman,” zayne whispers while reaching out and ghostly tracing a simple line over your shoulder blade. “and i’m a man. it works like that, doesn’t it? this is natural… isn’t it?”

you swallow. the very faint sensation of zayne’s fingertip makes you tense.

“y-yeah…”

zayne’s finger goes down to your mid back. here he feels you arch away instinctively, but still not rejecting him. he grows bolder with his touch, insisting a bit more with his finger tip until he’s tracing letters.

letters Z through E of his name. ZAYNE was on you.

“my attraction to you is natural, isn’t it?” he whispers. he reaches for the top hem of your shirt and then parts your hair from your neck, exposing your nape. with the pad of his thumb, he rubs there gently. the sensations on your skin were hair-raising.

“i… it is.”

“then does it come naturally to you too?”

you shudder softly as you feel more of zayne’s fingers rake over your skin. he abandons your neck, moving downward again until he was touching the small of your back.

“please, answer me.”

there’s more silence from you, but you break it with a whisper. “my face gives all the answers, but i already told you i’m not letting you look at me.”

“then how will i know how you feel about me too?”

no answer.

zayne looks down at where his hand is on your back and moves it lower to the bottom hem of your shirt. gently, he lifts it—so slow that a million thoughts came and passed in those long seconds.

at the top of your back, he scrunches up your shirt and admires the lines and curves of your skin.

“are you okay?”

“i’m fine.”

zayne rests his head against your back and closes his eyes. he felt stressed but also relieved. this far… he’s gotten this far…

“are you sure you’re okay?” he asks a little bit more desperately this time. his voice and breath tickled your skin a bit. “how am i supposed to know when i can’t even face you?”

you tilt your head back to stare up at the ceiling. the lights should be dimmer, you thought.

“i’m okay,” you whisper. “i don’t feel fear, i don’t feel nervous, i don’t feel anything. can you… will you make me feel something?”

zayne’s eyes fluttered open slightly. he turns his head back to the expanse of your smooth back and rubs his lips together. oh your words…

“i’ll become a man that’ll be capable of making you feel anything you want.”

the hands that were rested by your side went up to your upper mid back and touched the rough feel of your bra clip. with slight hesitation, zayne’s delicate fingers undo the clip and let it pull away to reveal your fully bare back. his eyes flutter even more now.

the moles and freckles of your usually hidden skin was an experience to his eyes.

“i’ll become a man so good that you won’t have to hide your face away in shame. after all, it’s natural, isn’t it?”

cool lips make contact to your back making you perk up instantly. the kisses were spread out, small in sound and in touch, and soon warm. zayne’s free hands not only steady you by the hips but also anchor himself through each press of his lips.

“i want you,” his voice rumbles against your skin

“i know,” you respond.

“after graduation?”

“it’ll still be scandalous.”

“it’ll be scandalous regardless. who has to know?”

you bite your lip. “is it just a lustful thing, professor?”

your words make zayne stop his affections and stand straight.

“never,” he whispers. “have i… made you feel that way?”

swallow.

“no… no you haven’t, i’m not lying either. but… i mean dates and stuff, it’s all so public. we’d get noticed immediately, it’d be risky. but… everything else, that’s done privately. so i’m just wondering… how… or where… or what…”

zayne lets out a small humorless laugh. “you’ll be mine soon enough, without all those worries meaning. i get scared too, yknow? but i’m scared enough for the both of us, so don’t… doubt me.”

you smile a little, unsure of what exactly is humorous. “don’t doubt your ability to keep me a secret, you mean.”

“don’t put it like that, you have such a harsh way of saying things,” zayne exhales.

“right, right, i’m sorry.”

you reach back for his hands and gently pull him forward so that his arms crossed over your stomach.

“but that’s what i am, a secret. you’re a secret too. just… become a man capable of taking care of me, secret or not.”

zayne tightens his grip around you just slightly.

“i’m your professor,” he whispers with his forehead against the back of your cranium, “and if nothing else, my job is to you guide you. you’ll be mine soon enough.”

he presses one kiss to your hair.

“you will.”

࣪𖤐

[di-lucss]

I would love a little drabble or story abt ur last thought (Jason not being made for hookup culture). He’s not the guy that catches feelings from sleeping w someone but rather he needs feel something for someone before sleeping w them (or else he’ll feel like physically nauseous). Unfortunately he’s stuck fwbs!reader who is blissfully unaware of that b/c he (stupidly) agreed to whatever she said, hoping he could win her over (took advice from Dick, who also doesn’t have a successful love life, which seems a bit silly but hindsight 20/20).

ohhhhhh anon you lovely lovely person i have been WAITING for this request. since i’m not very good at writing fem!pov i hope you’re cool with vague second pov!! jason is so acespec coded i lobe him. i wrote this in like an hour and a half ummm this just shows you can do anything with a little inspiration and motivation.

cw: very mild suggestive content. yearning. so much yearning. non-graphic mentions of injuries. taking advice from richard john grayson.

word count: 0.6k.

tags: @dulcet-aurora @scrumptiouslylovingarcade ❪ feel free to dm me if you'd like to be added! ❫

thinking about fwb!jason todd.

fwb!jason todd who didn’t start sleeping with you just for the hell of it. you guys had been friends for a good long while; he’d crash at your apartment every now and then after patrols, you’d patch him up when he nearly bled out was grazed with a blade or a bullet or whatever.

fwb!jason todd whose feelings for you just kind of hit him one night out of nowhere when he was once again in need of your handy-dandy sewing skills—something you’d picked up in the months since he started barging through your living room window every few nights.

fwb!jason todd who didn’t even feel the needle piercing his skin as he stared at you. at the concentration in your eyes, the set of your brows, the way your tongue stuck out between your teeth just a touch as you did your best to keep the stitches on his side clean and even. you were always considerate like that; trying to make sure nothing scarred to badly, that he wasn’t in too much pain, that he

fwb!jason todd who didn’t even mean to kiss you when you looked up at him. it just kind of happened. it was clumsy and a little rushed, but it didn't feel like the rest. didn't feel wrong. didn't make him feel like his skin was crawling off his bones.

fwb!jason todd who's had hookups before, but none of them ever felt right. but when the two of you wound up tangled up under some throw blanket on your faded leather couch... he just couldn't explain it. it didn't feel like he was betraying himself. your body slotted against his like it was supposed to be there—smooth and right.

fwb!jason todd who woke up the next morning and you looked so peaceful sleeping on him, head on his chest, arms around his waist. he didn't feel repulsed, he felt a weird, uncommon sort of peace.

fwb!jason todd who wasn't really ready for the conversation that came after. the 'what is this now' talk. he'd never had to have that talk before, not with anyone else. all he knew was he didn't want to lose that feeling—whatever it really was—that he got from you.

fwb!jason todd who just nodded along to every word you said. 'i really liked last night.' so did he. 'i don't want it to make things awkward.' neither did he. 'i don't know that i'm in a place to have a relationship.' that one made his chest inexplicably tight. what were the two of you supposed to do then? go on like nothing happened? like it was just like any other night where you'd sew him up and he'd crash on the couch and be gone before dawn?

fwb!jason todd who nearly didn't catch the solution you gave; 'we could just... keep doing that. but like, as friends. if you want.' he didn't know that was really an option—not for him, with the complicated feelings that had apparently been building up inside him for this long. he could only say he'd think about it.

fwb!jason todd who left shortly after. he didn't stop thinking about it—couldn't, really. it was against his better judgement, but he went to the one person he knew more-than-likely had experience with these sorts of situations: dick. the guy had a colorful love life, he was the only one that made sense.

fwb!jason todd who only half-trusted dick's insight: being friends-with-benefits almost always ends with you guys dating. it wasn't what he wanted, not really. he liked the sex, he really did, but that wasn't the only thing he was hoping for. but if it was what he had to do to have even a small part of you, maybe he could hold out until you were ready.

fwb!jason todd who left dick's with not so much hope as determination. he could wait for you. as long as he needed to.

© di-lucss | all rights reserved, do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

First of all, Loveeeeee your work SO MUCH!! Your works are so comforting to me. Your writing is phenomenal every time. I’m not even really a Stan girlie (Ford girlie for life) but I still read your stuff with Stan because it’s too dang good to skip.

✨ANYWAY: I loved your Stan and Ford reacting to reader getting hurt post. I was curious if you had any thoughts on how they would react to you getting hurt specifically during an *intimate* situation if you will. ✨

Once again, LOVE your work! Don’t feel obligated to answer this if you’re feeling too stressed or overwhelmed at the moment 😌 take care of yourself above all else

𐔌 . how Stan & Ford react when you use your safeword or get hurt during intimacy .ᐟ ₊ ꒱

a/n: idk if it’s the universe or what, but literally right after finishing my last hcs i had this little thought like “hmm what would Stan & Ford do if you used your safeword??” and THEN. i kid you not. i got TWO asks about it!!! i have some mental connection with you people or what?? you are literally reading my mind!! AND THANK YOU SO MUCH SWEETHEART, FOR UR KIND WORDS. im so so happy u like my stuff<333 uve lifted my spirits so much rn <33

another ask said: How would stan and Ford react to their so getting hurt during sex? Nothing serious maybe they bump their head in the headboard of the bed or smth lol

STANLEY

♡ oh damn. Stan knows he’s big, and he knows he gets carried away, especially when you ask for it. when you say “harder” he takes it personally. that man pounds you non stop if u let him

♡ you flinch just a little, and he sees it. and it hits him like a brick wall. he was doing so good, he was so into it, he thought he was making you feel good and now you’re wincing and it’s like the floor drops out

♡ the instant the safe word leaves your mouth, no matter how turned on and panting and deep he is inside you, he freezes, “whoa, whoa. sweetheart, sweetheart, hey” his voice would change in a heartbeat. hoarse and full of fear. he’s yanking back, sliding out so fast it’s a little messy, grabbing you like you’re made of glass

♡ next thing you feel is how both hands of his are cradling your face, one sliding over your back protectively, his thumb stroking your temple. you’d feel how hard his heart’s slamming in his chest because it scares the shit out of him that he could’ve pushed you too far. “you’re okay. you’re okay. fuck, i’m sorry. talk to me, honey, please, i’m right here, ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Stanley would not care if he was still hard or close. nothing. all of him would go into comforting you, wrapping you up in his big arms, rocking you side to side a little, kissing your forehead over and over

♡ later when you're calmer he’d probably be like ”shit, got carried away, didn’t i? fuckin’ old dog like me shoulda known better.”

♡ but he's also MEGA PROUD OF YOU. making sure you feel safe, adored, and so, so good for knowing WHEN to use your safeword.

♡ “you did perfect, sweet thing,” he’d murmur against your temple, “you tell me anytime it’s too much, okay? that's good, good. that’s my smart, fuckin’ perfect baby.” while stroking ur hair <3333

♡ if you're hurt from him reaching too deep (we all know he will) and you whimper like “too deep, Stan, c-cant. your too big” HIS FIRST REACTION IS FEAR. “oh SHIT, baby. did i hurt you?? fuck fuck, we’re stoppin’. i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to” he physically recoils from you. freezes up with this overwhelming rush of horror and guilt, eyes huge like a kicked puppy. cupping your cheek with his hand still warm from where it was on your hip a second ago

♡ but also. . . if you go “it just went too deep, hurt for a sec, baby, please continue” and give him a half-lidded look through your lashes??? OH THAT OLD MAN WILL BE DOWN BAD!!! he’s like “wait. you’re tellin’ me i got that far in you? i’m that big?” and you’ve created a MONSTER. he goes from worried boyfriend to puffed-up cocky perv in five seconds!!

♡ uhhh will later brag about how he “tapped that cervix by accident” but still, next time he’s gentler. slows down and watches your face more. asks “this okay? this angle better?” every couple minutes. he learns and listens. he’s rough only if you want it <3 Stan is obsessed with making you feel safe

♡ sometimes you end up squashed under his full chest when he gets overexcited. just absolutely buried in chest hair, gold chain, his weight. and when you squirm, groaning, “babe, air, i can’t breathe,” he yanks back, mortified.

“m’sorry! i’m crushin ya, huh?” and then starts kissing your face all over like you’re a lil pancake he flattened <3

♡ but Stan can also go too fast and you get overwhelmed, so suddenly you’re a little dizzy, overstimmed. he probably notices it not by the sounds but by your grip, when your fingers curl too tight on his shoulder, or your thighs twitch too sharp. he knows and stops, breathing ragged, and Stan just presses his forehead to yours. “you need a break? talk to me, baby. don’t try to take more than you wanna.” his voice is gutted, yeah, he feels guilty even though you begged him to go harder in the first place

♡ but then he rubs your clit real slow instead <33 fingers soft and gentle, praising you, kissing your shoulders and neck, “lemme getcha there without makin’ it worse, ‘kay?”

♡ when his back gives out mid-thrust, he just pauses, winces, and goes “okay hang on. hang on. fuck. my back.” honestly he gets so vulnerable and cute that way, you can't help but giggle softly. “don’t laugh at me,” he murmurs, still inside you, trying to twist his hips, searching for the least painful position. “do you need to stop?” you ask. “what? no, absolutely not,” he grunts, rolling his shoulders although his face obviously speaks otherwise. “i just need a second. maybe a pillow. and a painkiller. and a heating pad. and— don't look at me like that, i’m still hot.” you kiss his forehead and tell him he’s the hottest man alive <333

♡ aaaahhhhg im going insane i CANT I NEED TO GET THIS MAN PREGNANT. JUST IMAGINE your getting railed like it’s the last night before the world ends. and it always starts in missionary so his gold chain keeps dangling in your face. it’s hitting your chest, sliding against your neck, catching in the sweat between your collarbones. Stanley doesn't wanna stop but he pauses, noticing this thing causes you trouble. “shit, babe, lemme take this off” and your hands are already on his chest like “no. don’t. it’s hot. keep it on.” that makes Stan grin. “yeah? y’like that?” so it’s a little tangled now. doesn’t matter. you damn love it because he looks even hotter like that. the gold flashes every time he moves, and you’re thinking about it for days. the chain’s choking him more than it is you but he’s too deep in it to care

♡ and when you bump your head on the headboard, Stan absolutely hears the bonk 😭 “what the—? sweetheart, y’alright?” honestly your not, but you're too horny to care. you’re seeing stars but trying to wave it off, and Stan’s like “nope. nuh-uh. i wanna be the one smacking my head, not you. i need your brain intact, ‘kay?” he guides you off gently and lies back instead, smiling at you. “get on top of me, gorgeous. ride me. no concussions this time.” you’re already climbing on, too cock drunk to care when he adds, “yeah, that’s it. take your time. safety first, baby”

STANFORD

♡ Ford is obsessed with feedback and you may not notice it but he keeps eye contact on you, even when your own eyes are closed. so if you're shifting your legs slightly? data. your breathing quickening? important. a stuttered whine? log it. that's cuz hes constantly analysing how you’re taking him because he’s so scared of going too far

♡ so when you gasp too sharply or your body jerks away, he panics. “w-wait, what was that? did i hurt you? please be honest. was it the angle? did i overstretch you?”

♡ imagine accidentally getting his glasses knocked crooked or smashing your forehead into his chin during a particularly frenzied thrust :(( he'll get so flustered and embarrassed. “i-it’s fine. i didn’t need to see that clearly anyway!”

♡ but i also think he's so attuned to you that honestly? he might notice something’s wrong even before you say it. but the second he hears the safeword, he’s pulling out, “darling! i’m stopping, i’m stopping“ his hands immediately go to your face, your shoulders, trying to touch you everywhere at once to calm you

♡ will check on you. like visibly scan your body with his hands and eyes probably saying something as “i’m checking for swelling. you feel tender here? here? what about this side?”

you’re like “Ford it’s okay i’m fine” and he says “NO I MUST BE CERTAIN.”

♡ even during most passionate intense sex, once you whimper your safe word or say “stop” he’d immediately withdraw, whispering “i'm sorry, i'm stopping. you're safe, you're alright, my darling” and he'd tuck you into his arms, checking your face, brushing your hair out of your sweaty forehead, kissing your cheeks

♡ lowkey his cock is deep-reaching so there’s a real chance he’s unintentionally hit your cervix at the wrong angle once or twice. you yelp, making Ford get a full existential shutdown. he wont continue. will sit on the bed with his face in his hands like “what kind of animal am i. . . i promised myself i’d never be reckless with you. . . i lost control. . . im horrible. . .”

♡ “i hurt you. that’s not acceptable. please, guide me differently”

♡ always kisses your hands first. then your forehead. then he wraps you up in the blanket, tucking it all around you to keep you warm even though he’s sweating too, whispering, “it’s alright, sweetheart. you’re safe. i promise you, you're safe with me.”

♡ has definitely tried to apply pressure to your hips or thighs to help reposition you and ended up giving you a bruise :(( ouchh he feels so much guilt!! will leave a handwritten note to you later that says “i saw the mark. i’m so sorry. i’ll be gentler. i love you.” because he gets too shy or awkward to tell you it in real life

♡ and if we're talking about clumsy sex. . . hmmm. Ford has zero business being that hot and that stupid when it comes to lab safety during sex

♡ so when you’re half-stripped on his cluttered workbench, legs around his waist, moaning into his shoulder and there’s a glowing crystal under your ass or some quantum device two inches from your foot, you both don't give a fuck because well, you just want to fuck each other. or make love as how Ford calls it. but that's the problem because when you lean back and suddenly SCALDING HEAT— your palm lands on a freshly soldered piece of alien tech, you yelp.

♡ he freezes and stops moving, asking “what happened. what did you touch. where. tell me exactly which object it was. does it have residue? how hot? do you feel faint?” already running to the emergency first aid kit

♡ then Ford is already holding your hand under the faucet. “you got minor surface heat exposure. i’m sorry. i should’ve cleared the workspace”

♡ but he learns quick! for example, you scrape your leg on a weird lab corner or get a bruise on your hip from a bad angle?? next time he gently positions your limbs, holding you, while pressing inside, kissing your cheek, “does this feel aligned? what about now? no strain? optimal angle?” so yep <33 you get chart-level care. but also intense eye contact the whole time, Ford gets even more tender when you’ve been bruised. your pain makes him want to worship you twice as hard

♡ believe me, he takes this seriously. might even start reorganising the lab after you leave. his smart ass probably thinks of making a “safe sex zone” in the corner with blankets and lead-free surfaces. pervert

♡ sex in the forest while anomaly hunting? Ford finds it so damn hot. but you both forget its literally dangerous too. and not because of the anomalies or some dangerous animals. what's worse is when he presses you up against a tree and forgets it’s covered in sap :') now your back is sticky, your hair’s tangled in pine needles

♡ hes so into the outdoors you’re getting laid where deer nap. or maybe it's some suspiciously lumpy patch of earth? but the result is: you’re getting laid on the ground. everything is good and sexy until your bare knee finds a rock, making you wince, “ow. that’s- there’s a literal rock, Ford. hurts :(” AND FORD IMMEDIATELY GOES “my darling you’re about to be on my coat” he shrugs it off, spreads it beneath you with, gets leaves in his hair though. but stays so focused, whispering in your ear, “i’ll carry you back if you can’t walk” because he knows you can't walk straight for some time after he's done with u. but he says this while literally having twig scratches on his shoulderblades :')

♡ and about back pain. . . he will NOT admit he’s hurting, not a single word. but halfway through he starts going weirdly slow and unsure. knowing your man's age and health, you go “is your back okay?” and Ford tight-smiles, saying “everything’s fine” but it's not because then you move a little and he flinches. turns out he threw out a vertebrae ten minutes ago and was trying to “focus through the discomfort” so yeah. . . eventually collapses and goes “ow ow OW, darling, please get off get off im gonna pass out.”

♡ not gonna lie, but you also love to give him head when he's working in his lab, meanwhile you take him in ur mouth, being under his desk. and yeah, shit happens. you bump your poor head on the bottom of the desk. hard enough to make a dull thud sound and jolt his whole spine. Forc gasps. “are you alright?! my love, did you hit your skull? do you feel disoriented?!” his hands are suddenly in your hair, on your cheeks, checking your pupils. “i should’ve made a better clearance. why is this desk shaped like this, it’s unsafe!” he looks at you and thinks, ur poor thing. he should’ve thought this through. you’re too precious to be bonking your head down there. no more injuries under Ford's watch!!

♡ so next time, when you’re back between his legs, eyes locked on his face while your mouth drives him insane, his big hand slides down. Ford finds the exact spot you bumped your head last time and he keeps it there, resting on the crown of your head, fingers curving protectively around it, shielding you. “there. right here. good. safe.”

♡ if you bump your head on the wall / shelf / headboard, Ford instantly goes into guilt. “no no no, we’re stopping. ill never forgive myself if u bruise. i love that head. u use it for thinking” you’re dazed, naked and being wrapped in his coat while he mutters something about using a pillow. then kisses your temple. “im so sorry. i can, well, i can pleasure you with my mouth. that doesn’t involve blunt force trauma.”

[marvelstoriesepic]

What the Mirror Doesn’t Say

Pairing: Gym Trainer!Bucky x Reader

Summary: You go to the gym to try and reclaim confidence, but your trainer Bucky sees all the ways you’re already enough.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: body image insecurity; negative self-perception; emotional vulnerability; self doubt; tension; Bucky being a supportive sweetheart

Author’s Note: Thank you for sending in this wonderful request, my dear! I hope you’ll enjoy ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

You’re sweating. You’re stretching. You’re shaking.

The gym smells of iron and effort and citrus-scented cleaning spray.

Your thigh is trembling, body bent in a way it has never agreed to be bent, and you’re certain you look ridiculous

“You’re doing good,” he says, voice low and quiet. Focused. On you.

Bucky is crouched beside you, forearms resting on his knees. He’s wearing black joggers and a gray shirt that shouldn’t fit him that well. It shouldn’t cling like that. You think it might be a crime.

You blink. Try to focus. You’ve been trying to focus since day one.

It’s been four weeks.

Four weeks of showing up with your hair in a messy knot. Four weeks of pretending you don’t care how your shirt rides up when you raise your arms. Four weeks of swallowing through the lump in your throat when the mirror reflects a person you’re not ready to look at.

You shift. Your hip aches.

He watches you. Carefully. Studying. Reading something important on your face. And then he smiles that smile. Slow. Handsome. One side only.

“Your body’s stronger than you give yourself credit for,” he says, soft, as if it matters to him on a personal level. “More flexible, too. You just don’t trust it yet.”

You huff. Laugh, almost. It’s empty.

“I just look stupid,” you say, and you mean it like a joke but your voice doesn’t go with it the way you wanted. “I know this is supposed to be progress or whatever but-“

“You don’t look stupid.” His voice sounds clean in your mind.

You go still.

He moves closer, slowly, afraid you’ll bolt. His voice drops, dips down into something molten. “You keep showing up. You trust your body enough to move. That’s strength. That’s brave.”

You hate when he says things like this. Hate when he makes his words sound so damn sincere. Fond, even. Admiring, even. Respectful.

You don’t know where to put your hands. Or your face. Or your trust.

Glancing down at your body, you feel the familiar throb of dislike flare in your chest. You want to believe him, want to let the words linger. But the voices in your head have been louder for longer.

Bucky doesn’t push. Instead, he stands. Holds out his hand.

“Come on,” he says gently, encouraging. “We’ll stretch it out slow today. I’ll spot you.”

He always spots you.

And you always have mixed feelings about it.

You take his hand. You wish you didn’t hesitate, but you do.

Your fingers are clammy, shaking slightly, but he wraps his around yours as if you’re the softest thing he’s held all day. All week. Longer.

He helps you up with ease and smiles at you. And it doesn’t just touch his mouth - it sets his eyes on fire. “You’re doing great,” he repeats from earlier. He tends to say it often. But he always makes it sound as if he really and wholeheartedly believes it. “But you’re holding back.”

Your brain scrambles for a place to hide and you duck your head, walking over to the next mat.

You settle, and again, he kneels beside you, his knee brushing yours. He’s close.

Your chest is rising too fast.

“You okay?” he asks, and it’s not casual. Not empty. He means it as if he’s checking your pulse with his voice.

You nod. Lie.

He sees through it. Says nothing.

But he shifts behind you. Moves slow. Deliberate and respectful, giving you time. You don’t move.

He places one hand on your lower back. Just his palm. Just a fraction of pressure. Your body startles. But just slightly. He’s never touching you unless he’s sure you won’t shrink from it.

His hand is warm. Firm. The weight of it is like a comma in your spine, a pause, a presence. Your breath catches and stumbles forward, clumsy.

“Breathe,” he murmurs gently.

You try.

The stretch is deeper this time. Your knee groans. Your back protests. Your body whispers its resistance in sharp little sighs and creaks, but you stay with it. You stay in it.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Just like that,” he breathes proudly, increasing the pressure just a little. “You’ve come a long way,” he adds earnestly. There are emotions in his voice, but you lack the concentration to focus on deciphering them.

You can’t help the huff that leaves your lips and starts in your chest, deep deep down.

He leans in closer, and he speaks with his mouth close to your ear. You feel his breath. His voice is velvet-laced steel. “You don’t see it, but I do.”

There’s something certain in the way he says it and it makes your chest clench.

The mirror on the wall catches the two of you in soft reflection. You look at it, then away. You can’t bear to see yourself sitting like this, legs folded awkwardly, arms tense, hair sticking to your temples.

You feel like a mess.

He watches you in the glass. Sees your reaction. His eyes fall back to you. They are heavy.

“You’re overthinking again, doll.” He says it with a tone that tells you he knows exactly what you’re thinking. There’s more in his tone, though. But it doesn’t sound like pity. “You keep flinching away like you’re apologizing for being here.” His voice is gentle but piercing. “As if your body is supposed to be something it isn’t.”

Your throat is full of words that taste like shame.

“I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable,” he adds, softer now. “I just-“ Running a hand through his hair, he releases a pained sigh. “I wish you could see what I see.”

Heat blooms in quiet places. You laugh, small, like a balloon losing air.

“You don’t have to say that.”

“I’m not saying it to be nice,” he insists, just slightly sharper now as if the truth snapped between his teeth. “I’m saying it because I mean it.”

Your body doesn’t know what to do with that.

You swallow hard, not knowing what to say. You want to say don’t say things like that, but also say more things like that. You want to believe him and run from him and ask him to stay all at once.

You settle for looking at the floor.

“You ever think,” he murmurs, so low it’s almost not there. But it’s measured in a way that has you suggesting he’s been thinking about asking this for a while. “That maybe the only thing in your way is the way you see yourself?”

You shake your head, because yes.

You breathe, because no.

“You’re allowed to like yourself, you know,” Bucky says softly, leaning back just slightly, giving you space like a gift. “Even before you think you’ve earned it.”

The words settle in a way that’s unfamiliar in your chest.

You look down at your hands. At the mat. At him.

And you think - for the first time in a long time - you might be allowed to stay.

[seitmai]

Steve cleared his throat after exchanging a look with Sam. “So, to recap, you were looking for Alpine and she was just… snuggled with a complete stranger?” He waited for a beat. “In the middle of a sidewalk at night?” “Yes, that’s exactly what she did,” Bucky said through his teeth. His friend was old, but not hard of hearing. 

Hahaha I can't with the old joke😂

“A sweet stranger who said you were the hottest man she had ever seen in her life?” Sam smirked. Yes, that was what you said and Bucky hadn’t forgotten it. Nor would he admit to his friends how nice the compliment made him feel the more he repeated your words in his mind. “And she snuggled with Alpine? Pictures, or it didn’t happen.”

Of course Bucky hasn't forgotten and Sam is a "picture or it didn’t happen" guy 😅

Bucky made a face. Why would he make something like that, or you, up? Did he really not believe him?  “Why the hell would I take a photo of her? That’s something a creep would do, and I’m not a creep,” he snapped, thinking about it while Sam chuckled. Grumpy with his share of issues, yes, but he was not a creep. “But there were security cameras outside of her building. Hacking the system wouldn’t be too difficult if you really wanted to see what happened.” “You’re not going to hack anything,” Steve said, trying to be the voice of reason. It wouldn’t be the worst crime committed if he did. “I think Sam meant the picture thing as a joke.” “No, I didn’t,” Sam said.

They crack me up with all the discussion about pictures, no pictures or Hacking to get pictures 😂 I feel like this discussion is so spot on for the dynamic of the 3 of them 😅

“Listen, I’m not saying this… dream girl or whatever you want to call her doesn’t exist, but I do have to ask.” Sam had a shit-eating grin on his face. “Did she really boop you on the nose?” If Bucky clenched his jaw any tighter he would’ve cracked his teeth. “She did. Twice.”

To be fair that does sound so silly that it sounds fake 🤷🏻‍♀️😅

 Steve looked like he was trying not to laugh and Sam didn’t bother hiding it. Why did he trust these punks with anything? “Okay…” Sam held his side as his laughter died down. “I have to meet her so I can ask where she got the balls to do that and say ‘you’re welcome’ for accidentally letting Alpine out so you two could meet.”

Valid 😅

“Well, with that attitude…” Sam mumbled, which Bucky pointedly ignored. It wasn’t like he was trying to be pessimistic, but getting his hopes up wouldn’t help either. “If I didn’t know any better, it sounds like Alpine isn’t the only one who liked her.”

Oh we have a Sherlock Holmes on out hands 🤭

Steve tried to catch his eye. “Do you like her, Buck?”

And Steve is so sensible about it 🥹

Sam sighed when Bucky didn’t respond. “Can you message her? Tell her Alpine’s trying to get out to see her?”

That would be a good opener

Alpine batted her paw against his chest and meowed, sensing the subtle shift in his mood. “What would you suggest, Al? That I just walk you up and down her sidewalk with you until she comes out?” Silence filled the living room. Was he really asking his cat for advice on how to see you again? Jesus fucking Christ, he needed help and he was already seeing a therapist.

I don't think it's so wrong to ask Al in this case, it was her fault to begin with this situation, I think she would have great intel🤷🏻‍♀️

Steve shrugged after a minute went by. “...It’s not a bad idea.” Sam snorted. He was enjoying this way too much. “Or you could just start by finding her on social media like a normal person since she at least gave you her name.”

There are decades between them and it shows in exactly that moment 🤭😅

Sam’s smile fell. “It’s weird to add her on social media, but it’s not weird to walk up and down her sidewalk like a wolf stalking its prey or talk about hacking the cameras of her building?”

He is calling them and their old ways out rn hahah

And if he couldn’t figure out a way himself, he had a feeling Alpine would take matters into her own paws.

Yes!! Queen Alpine 👏🏻

Late Night Recap

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky tells Steve and Sam about his encounter with you.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Mention of drunk reader, humor, attraction, Sam and Steve are good friends, a bit of grumpy!Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay? And he has a crush).

A/N: Based on an anon ask and a continuation of Late Night Shenanigans. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Steve and Sam sat across from Bucky on the couch, blankly staring at him once he finished his story. He stared back with a scowl and was pretty sure Alpine was scowling at them, too, daring them to tell him that he was making the whole thing up about what happened earlier. That he didn’t encounter a beautiful drunk stranger snuggling with his cat. That you didn’t seem at all intimidated by his presence. That he couldn’t get your smile or voice out of his head.

Wait, he didn’t tell them that last part and he sure as hell wasn’t going to.

Steve cleared his throat after exchanging a look with Sam. “So, to recap, you were looking for Alpine and she was just… snuggled with a complete stranger?” He waited for a beat. “In the middle of a sidewalk at night?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what she did,” Bucky said through his teeth. His friend was old, but not hard of hearing. 

“A sweet stranger who said you were the hottest man she had ever seen in her life?” Sam smirked. Yes, that was what you said and Bucky hadn’t forgotten it. Nor would he admit to his friends how nice the compliment made him feel the more he repeated your words in his mind. “And she snuggled with Alpine? Pictures, or it didn’t happen.”

Bucky made a face. Why would he make something like that, or you, up? Did he really not believe him?  “Why the hell would I take a photo of her? That’s something a creep would do, and I’m not a creep,” he snapped, thinking about it while Sam chuckled. Grumpy with his share of issues, yes, but he was not a creep. “But there were security cameras outside of her building. Hacking the system wouldn’t be too difficult if you really wanted to see what happened.”

Was that creepy? It wasn’t like he was trying to get feed to watch you or to see your beautiful face again. It was to prove to Sam that he wasn’t lying about what happened, nothing more. Not that he had anything to prove. He was telling the truth. It wasn’t his fault if Sam didn’t believe him.

“You’re not going to hack anything,” Steve said, trying to be the voice of reason. It wouldn’t be the worst crime committed if he did. “I think Sam meant the picture thing as a joke.”

“No, I didn’t,” Sam said. 

Steve held a hand up when Bucky’s fists curled. “What he means is we’re surprised because, besides you, Alpine doesn’t usually cuddle with people right away. She likes us, but it took her time to do that.”

“Yeah, well, she’s obviously different,” the brunette mumbled, scratching behind Alpine’s ears. “Alpine really liked her.”

Alpine purred in agreement, bringing a small smile out of the former assassin. Though part of him still wondered if you put some sort of spell over his cat to get her to warm up so quickly, he knew that wasn’t it. She was a good judge of character, so she had to take a liking to you since you were a friendly person. It was either that or she decided that you needed her to look out for you. And by extension that meant he had to look out for you, too. Someone had to.

Fuck, now he did feel like a creep with that train of thought.

“Listen, I’m not saying this… dream girl or whatever you want to call her doesn’t exist, but I do have to ask.” Sam had a shit-eating grin on his face. “Did she really boop you on the nose?”

If Bucky clenched his jaw any tighter he would’ve cracked his teeth. “She did. Twice.” 

Steve looked like he was trying not to laugh and Sam didn’t bother hiding it. Why did he trust these punks with anything? “Okay…” Sam held his side as his laughter died down. “I have to meet her so I can ask where she got the balls to do that and say ‘you’re welcome’ for accidentally letting Alpine out so you two could meet.”

“You’re not going to meet her or ask her anything,” Bucky said, looking up at the ceiling. “Because I probably won’t see her again.”

It didn’t make sense why his heart ached so much at the thought of not crossing your path again. He didn’t know you, and you didn’t know him. Fairy tales and meet cutes or whatever they were called didn’t exist in his world, not for people like him.

“Well, with that attitude…” Sam mumbled, which Bucky pointedly ignored. It wasn’t like he was trying to be pessimistic, but getting his hopes up wouldn’t help either. “If I didn’t know any better, it sounds like Alpine isn’t the only one who liked her.”

Steve tried to catch his eye. “Do you like her, Buck?”

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek. Of course, his friends would latch on that he was possibly interested in someone. He hadn’t dated anyone since Leah, and his relationship with her hadn’t lasted long. Was the universe giving him a chance by putting you in his path, or was he reading too deeply into it? It had to be the latter. 

Sam sighed when Bucky didn’t respond. “Can you message her? Tell her Alpine’s trying to get out to see her?”

Bucky almost laughed because he could see the feline trying to sneak out to find you. “I didn’t get her number.”

“Wait, you didn’t ask for her number or give her yours?” Steve asked.

Bucky finally lifted his head and fought the urge to say that he wasn’t the suave guy he used to be. “She was drunk, Steve. I didn’t ask since there’s a good chance that she might not even remember me,” he answered, which somehow felt worse than the thought of not seeing you again. Call him crazy or selfish, but he wanted you to remember him. It was only fair since you were affecting him so much.

“Well, you know where her apartment building is,” the blonde smiled. “That’s a start.”

“But not her apartment number,” he sighed. 

You were alert enough not to give away that piece of information, which he appreciated. Though you joked that it was how “true crimes” began, did you have any idea how many laws he had broken over the years? No, how could you? If you knew, there was a chance you wouldn’t run straight inside.

Regardless of what he had or hadn’t done over the years, it didn’t change that he didn’t get your phone number or your apartment number before you parted ways.

Alpine batted her paw against his chest and meowed, sensing the subtle shift in his mood. “What would you suggest, Al? That I just walk you up and down her sidewalk with you until she comes out?”

Silence filled the living room. Was he really asking his cat for advice on how to see you again? Jesus fucking Christ, he needed help and he was already seeing a therapist.

Steve shrugged after a minute went by. “...It’s not a bad idea.”

Sam snorted. He was enjoying this way too much. “Or you could just start by finding her on social media like a normal person since she at least gave you her name.”

Bucky sat up, his cheek twitching. You had given him your name. “But wouldn’t that be weird to add her as a friend?” he asked.

Because, again, there was a chance you wouldn’t remember who he was. It would give him a chance to see photos of you if you shared them. Maybe get a feel for some of your likes and dislikes. Where you hung out. If your relationship status said “single” like he hoped.

…Was he venturing into creepy territory again?

Sam’s smile fell. “It’s weird to add her on social media, but it’s not weird to walk up and down her sidewalk like a wolf stalking its prey or talk about hacking the cameras of her building?”

“And that’s the end of this conversation,” Bucky said, shooting both of them a glare to drop it.

“You’ll see her again,” Steve smiled, quickly adding, “Now that’s the end of the conversation.”

Bucky wasn’t an idiot. It would not be the end of that conversation, not now that Steve and Sam knew he was interested in someone. He should’ve kept his mouth shut and said that he found Alpine all by her lonesome, but he didn’t want to keep you a secret. 

He wondered how you were doing. Did you have your water and aspirin like he suggested? Would you feel okay in the morning? Did you hope to see him again? He just had to find a way to see you, if only so you could see “Queen Alpine” while you were sober.

And if he couldn’t figure out a way himself, he had a feeling Alpine would take matters into her own paws.

I swear, he will see his girl again. Because, yes, you are his girl. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[bunnipuffs]

somno with ellie x reader?

yes … yessss … absolutely … putting myself to sleep right now for her (◕◡◕) thank you for your request anon !!!!!!!! i am a somno girl through and through <3<3<3

꒰ cw. dubcon, loser! pervert! ellie, ellie using you to masturbate, you're drunk and ellie takes advantage of you, mention of the word vomit ꒱

⋆˙⟡ ellie is impulsive. something that she can’t ever change, even now, when you’re passed out in front of her. she can’t help it.

ellie likes to think that she’s contained. calm, collected, never lets her feelings get the best of her. but that wasn’t her. not at all, she’s always been very immature—starting fights for no reason, getting ticked off when joel lectures her about what she had done, an eye roll every time maria had reminded her about responsibilities. instead of realizing that, yeah maybe i could’ve died back there and i should apologize, a quick rebuttal always comes first. she never thinks about the severity of the situation. ellie acts before she can even process what she had done wrong, she’d rather not think about it honestly, her stupidity or carelessness. she never even really operated like that in the first place.

ellie wishes that she was like that though. doing the right thing even when it was hard. especially in this moment—you’re drunk and passed out on her bed, another annual jackson party wringing you dry. she feels dirty when she can’t help but to strip off your clothes, skinny fingers peeling off your top. you’re sweaty, and you probably have splashes of vomit on it. she tries to rationalize with herself, but she knows that taking off your bra isn’t necessary. it really isnt, but her fingers are moving before she can think about it. your tits are splayed out now, covered in the moonlight seeping through her windows. she exhales a shaky breath when she looks at you. this was wrong. very wrong, but ellie keeps staring at your perky nipples, salivating. the smell of alcohol is rough. you had a lot to drink and too much ambition, but ellie decided to be a good person and take you "home," not really specifying where home was. that thought was long discarded when she leans down, noticing that the scent doesn’t really bother her anymore when she gets close enough to your nipples, too eager and curious, a gentle kitten lick to the bud.

she has a hand wrapped around your throat, softly, just testing. she had always thought about doing that to you, feeling every gulp and movement of your throat underneath her fingertips. she’s sucking on your nipple, gently, afraid that if she makes any noise it’ll remind her of how sick she is. your sweat is salty on her tongue and she wanted more. wanted to clean you off until you were covered in her saliva, in her. she feels horrible, a storm of shame and embarrassment swirling in the pit of her stomach, but she can’t help it—you just do this to her. you did this to her the day she met you. a warm smile and the crinkles in your eyes when you laughed. she couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact with you either, even when you had hung out with her and dina often, something about you just made her spin.

that’s why it was easier to do this to you. you weren’t awake, couldn’t judge her for being so irrational and irresponsible. she just needed her fix. and you were so pretty, under the soft gleam of the moonlight. it couldn’t hurt to do this just once right?

she’s quickly shoving down her pants along with her boxers, rubbing her slick across her folds. she moans quietly, staring right at you while she hovers on top of you, the only time she's ever had the confidence to look at you properly. she’s ridiculously wet when she hasn’t even done anything yet, just perverted touches and thoughts racing through her head—ellie takes your limp hand from your side, gripping your wrist and rubbing herself with it. she’s moving you like a doll, controlling you, it’s a little awkward since you’re unconscious, you can't fuck them into her like she so desperately hoped for. your fingers are angled downwards and she’s grinding right on top of them, moaning when your knuckles bump her clit. your fingers are getting messy, covered in ellie.

ellie feels gross—using you like this. but there was something beautiful about taking you in secret. so secret that only ellie knows, not even you, and you're making her feel so good. she's used her fingers a million times before, rubbing relentlessly until she was sore to the thought of you. your smiles when you passed by, your sweet small talk when you both were putting your horses away at the same time. your hands felt different, so much better and pure. ellie likes to think that she's the first to have you like this. all laid out for her, nothing that could stop her in this moment. no nagging from joel, or anyone else. just her and you.

ellie's biting her lip to stop the loud whimpers spilling from her lips, your name an occasional strangled sound in the air. almost a whisper, precious on her tongue. her hands are tightening around your wrist, dragging it rougher and rougher against her cunt, feeling her own wetness spread along her inner thighs and dripping down your fingers. she's still staring you, sweat trickling over her slit brow and down her face. she thinks you look so beautiful when you're asleep, even more so when you're awake. but something depraved is growing in ellie, seeing you unconscious. your pretty tits spread in front of her, the shadow of your eyelashes against your skin. it makes ellie hot, burning, her body warm to the touch. she could probably come just by looking at you like this.

a part of ellie wishes you were awake. that you wholly accepted her for what a "bad" person she was. you seeing her desperate and taking her like she was taking you, she wanted it—but she was afraid. she knows that she'll never be able to look you in the eye for sure after this, but it feels too good. your fingers are connecting with her, so close, pulling the softest whimpers and moans from her throat. she wants to come all over them and stare, watch the obscenity trickle down your pretty hands.

"ah, fuck, i'm gonna.." ellie mutters, watching as you softly breathe under her. she grinds against you once, hard, before coming undone. she's muttering a blabbered string of curse words, fucking herself through her high. she feels every slide of her pussy across the sides and tops of your fingers, making sure she rubs herself on all of them. ellie can only hear the loud pounding of her heart in her ears now, puffing out heavy tired breaths. she pulls away from you and brings your hand up to the light. it's glistening, slick with arousal and ellie's love. she smiles at the sight before bringing them to her lips, licking everywhere—in between your digits, your palm.

she'll clean you up now, bring you home. tuck you into bed and let dina know you got home safely. when the next day rolls around, you're met with a horrible hangover and no recollection of last night's events. dina had let you know that ellie brought you home, cleaned you up, left a water bottle and some painkillers she had leftover in her bathroom cabinet. you're a little confused when you give ellie your gratitude when you see her, watching as her body visibly tenses. oh well, she was always a little distant!

tag list ! ♡

@hyperbabes

[himasgod]

Hi! Found your work through a friend! I was hope I could get some Headcanons! Mainly for Crowley (platonically) but if you could do Riddle and Ruggie (romantically) too, That’s be great! No pressure tho!

anyway! Headcanons for a Yuu who was forced to dress up as a boy most of her life and wants to start acting more feminine but has imposter syndrome, where she thinks she’s not girly enough or like she’s pretending to be a girl. General comfort and them trying to bring up her confidence!

please take your time! And if you can write it Tysm!!🩷

CROWLEY, RIDDLE AND RUGGIE X READER

Where you start dressing more feminine, but feel like it's not enough to be a "girl"

Crowley isn’t the most emotionally perceptive person… but he does notice when you start showing up in clothes you never wore before, or hesitating before speaking in front of others.

He doesn’t make a huge deal out of it. In fact, that’s part of what’s comforting—he treats it as normal. One day he just says, “Oh? New look? Quite charming. Very you.”

When you doubt yourself—like if you mumble something about not really being good at this, he just waves a hand. “Please, nonsense. Being yourself is always in fashion.”

He doesn't pry. He just quietly starts being more mindful. He uses the right pronouns. He redirects any awkward comments from other students. And he keeps your name written correctly on every form. (Which is impressive, considering how bad he is with paperwork.)

Once, after a particularly long day where you felt all out of place again, he just pats your shoulder lightly and says, “Don’t rush it. Just walk your own path, little prefect. You’re doing fine.”

Riddle isn’t super talkative about emotions, but he’s observant. The first time you wear a bow in your hair, he notices—but doesn’t make a fuss. “It suits you,” he says simply, red as his hair.

He doesn’t try to define femininity. That’s not his place. Instead, he supports you by being steady. If you’re doubting yourself, he reminds you of facts: “You’re allowed to choose how you present yourself. No one else can define that for you.”

One afternoon you tell him quietly, “I still feel like I’m pretending sometimes.” He pauses, frowns thoughtfully, and replies, “You’re not pretending. You’re learning how to be true to yourself. That’s not the same thing at all.”

He’s more actions than words. Offering you the tea you like. Holding your hand when the stares get to you. Always walking by your side.

Ruggie’s casual about it in the best way. He notices, of course—but he doesn’t tease. Not about this. He grins, bumps your shoulder, and says, “Look at you. Rockin’ that outfit like it’s nothin’.”

He treats your change like a natural part of who you are. Not weird. Not confusing. Just… you. “You look more relaxed now,” he says once. “Like you’re not holding your breath.”

When you admit to feeling like an imposter—“I don’t feel like I’m really a girl. I don’t feel girly enough.”—he gives you this little squint and goes, “Pfft. Who even decides that stuff? You’re a girl ‘cause you are, not ‘cause of how you dress or walk or whatever.”

He’s the type to support you quietly. If someone misgenders you, he casually corrects them like it’s no big deal. If you’re feeling down, he might drag you to get something (stolen probably) and act like it’s his idea.

“You ain’t pretending. You’re just catching up to yourself,” he says with a soft grin, tossing you a hair tie. “Takes time. You’ll get there.”

[vivid-dreamscapes]

Can I make a request please? KiriBaku or just Bakugo (if your not a fan of poly 🙈) noticing y/n hasn't been eating, suffering from ED since she was young but something triggered it again. I read one fairly recently and as someone struggling with the same issue, it just hit me in all the right places. I totally understand if you give this a hard pass since it can be triggering for others. Thank you

Yes, ofc! Ty for the request, and I’m happy to write this! I hope it can help bring comfort to people struggling with eating disorders. ❤️‍🩹

Kiribaku x Gn!Reader

Tw: Eating disorder, angst, cursing

Bakugou wanted to kill Mineta. He wanted to put a palm in his face and let out the biggest fucking explosion he could even muster. The only reason he hadn’t yet was because Kirishima reminded him that you probably didn’t want attention brought to you. And because, you know, potentially killing a classmate was a horrible idea.

It had all started two weeks ago, on a Wednesday. It had been your turn to make dinner for the class that night, and after a lot of studying, you were too tired to prepare a full-on meal. So, making a quick stop to the convenience store at the base of the hill UA was perched on, you made a bowl of instant ramen for every member in class 1-A.

Sure, you added certain vegetables, spices, eggs, or other ingredients to certain people’s bowls to make them a little fancier. But it was low effort, and honestly? Instant ramen didn’t sound too bad to 1-A either. Who wouldn’t want something so simple after one of the most hardcore week of training this semester?

Once you had set out everyone’s bowls, you sat down to eat your own. You had just been happily talking with Eijirou about some new move of his, when Mineta finally came and joined the group dinner.

“…wow [name]. Instant ramen? Is this what you eat regularly, cause that would explain why Mina looks skinned next to you.”

Instantly, Mina threw her fried egg at his face, shouting at him about how wrong he was, and how he’d really crossed a line. Everyone actually started yelling at him and defending you. But honestly…you didn’t even notice. You just stared at the food in front of you, suddenly feeling a loss of appetite.

And following that night, you’d slipped into an unfortunately all too familiar pattern. Checking the food labels. Eating the bare minimum. Checking the weight scale. Skipping out on meals.

The worst part? Nobody noticed. Not one person. You pushed it off as anxiety. Blamed it on the protein bar you told everyone you ate at the school gym earlier. That protein bar was never actually there. You said the meds you were taking came with loss of appetite as a side effect. You said you were fine.

It wasn’t until a couple nights ago, when it was Katsuki’s night to make dinner, that he finally took notice. The thing about your boyfriend…he’s a good fucking cook. And he damn well knows it. So he usually doesn’t give a shit about whether or not people like it.

But you and Eijirou are different. You’re his partners, his significant others. He wants you to like his food, craves your validation. So when he sees you barely ever touch his Horumonyaki, he’s kinda pissed.

“Oi.” He said, and you looked up form the napkin you had been fidgeting with. “Don’t like it or somethin’?”

“Oh no, Katsuki, it’s really good.” You said quickly, flashing him a nervous smile, which you disguised to be sheepish. “It’s just a bit spicy for me.”

Bullshit. He didn’t add any spice tonight because stupid Racoom Eyes kept complaining about how he always made his dinners, ‘too damn spicy’.

But he didn’t press anymore. He just told Eijirou. And for the next few days, they watched. They watched you eat lunch. They watched you eat snacks. They watched you eat breakfast, and they watched you eat dinner.

They watched you eat.

Or rather…

They watched you…not.

Until today. They decided they needed to do something about this. So they waited for the elevator to reach the floor your dorm was on. Katsuki had his fists clenched at his side, foot tapping impatiently. Eijirou looked at him in concern, placing a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

Once the entire door opened with a Bing, Katsuki stormed over to your dorm, Eijirou jogging in surprise to catch up.

“Oi!” Your angrier boyfriend of the two shouted, pounding on your door. “Open up idiot!”

“Katsuki, maybe they don’t want to be approached so aggressively.” Eijirou said, trying to reason with his explosive partner.

Regardless, you opened the door with a tired sigh. Your eyes were a little red rimmed, form being tired or having been crying, they couldn’t tell.

Originally, Katsuki had planned on giving you a very loud lecture and telling you that Mineta was fucking blind, and was spewing shit from his mouth. But seeing you so low, so out of energy, so…sad. It made him pause. And before he knew it, he was stepping forward, embracing you tightly.

You stumbled back a little in surprise, eyes wide before hugging him back. Eijirou quickly joined in on the hug, shutting the door to your dorm so nobody could spy on this personal, private moment.

So, after some gentle persuasion, you told them everything. How you’d struggled like this before. How you’d even trapped in this dark place for years, and had only been able to leave it a few months before coming to UA.

“I thought I was done with this.” You said through your tears, fists clenched on your knees. “I thought I was past this. God, it’s so stupid, and childish, and-“

“Hey, hey, hey.” Eijirou quickly cut you off, putting a hand on one of your trembling fists. He gently rubbed a calloused finger over your knuckles, giving you a soft look. “Nothing about this is childish. People having eating disorders though all ages in life, and not one of them is any more or less valid then the other.”

“Yeah, and not one of them is necessary.” Katsuki scoffed, and Eijirou threw him a look. “What?” The blonde asked gruffly, taking your other shaking fist in his two larger hands. “I mean that there’s no need to be so worried. Every body is beautiful. Just because one person says someone body looks one way, doesn’t mean the next person is going to see it the same way. And maybe they do. But maybe they find it attractive.”

You wiped a stray tear, trying to keep yourself from breaking down again. “B-But Mineta said-“

“Oh, Mineta said this?” Katsuki said, voice suddenly dark and angry. “Ohoho, I’m gonna fucking murder that little shit.”

Eijirou shot his boyfriend another warning look before rubbing your arms gently. “Listen, what Mineta said was out of line, and untrue. Remember when he called Jirou ugly? She’s not ugly, is she?”

You looked at him before shaking your head, wiping your eyes as your bottom lip grumbled a bit. “No. She’s really really pretty.”

“Exactly.” The redhead said with a smile, tilting his head. “So we already know Mineta’s judgment is pretty clouded.” He smiled, his words eliciting a laugh from you. He held up his hand, hardening it with his quirk. “Here. Squeeze it as hard as you need too, it won’t hurt.”

So you took his hand and squeezed the shit out of it, letting off some tension you hadn’t even noticed was in your shoulders. Smiling, you pulled back.

“Better?” Eijirou asked, and you nodded. Smiling, he and Katsuki scooted closer to you from both sides, wrapping their arms around you.

“We’re here for you every step of the way, [name].” Katsuki said gruffly, wiping a tear away with a rare smile.

Eijirou smiled and nodded, hugging you tighter. “We’re going to help you get through this. You’re not alone.”

!Not proofread!

Requests welcome and wanted! :)

[kwanholic]

butterflies — wen junhui

pairing; classmate!jun x afab!reader

genre; fluff, classmates to friends to dating

word count; 1,3k words

summary; your new classmate seems shy, no way he would ever come talk to you, right? wrong. he wants to become friends with you, why not? not like you’ll fall in love with him and his perfect personality.

a/n; idk why this took me so long to write bye but anyway i hope you like this!! i might write a part 2 if you people enjoy this 💕💕 i love jun

you have a new classmate. he seems shy, and the only time you’ve heard him talk is when he introduced himself to the class.

you also had heard every other girl in your class talking to each other how cute the new student is, how they’d want to date him.

but was he really that cute?

to you, he looked like every other guy in your school, nothing special.

week one

it had been a few weeks since he had joined your school, and thankfully, most people have stopped talking about him. you were tired of hearing everyone say the same things over and over again.

as you walked to class and to your usual spot at the back, you thought it would be the same as every other lesson. boring, tiring, boring.

setting down your laptop and book down on the desk as you finally noticed a shadow casting in front of you.

you turned around to see the new kid standing there awkwardly, holding his backpack on one shoulder.

“can i sit here?…”

he asked, his voice quiet. you were a little surprised, since you had never talked to him before. nevertheless, you softly nodded and moved your bag from the chair next to you on to the floor.

he sits down right as the teacher walks in, and you don’t have any time to even question him. you sigh and rip a small piece of paper from your notebook, writing a question on it.

you slide the paper to the other side of the desk and pretend to write some notes on your laptop as you wait for his reply.

soon, the paper gets back on your side with his reply written under your questions.

you look over at him to see him already looking at you with a slight but shy smile on his face. you smile back at him but quickly return to doing your work.

he seems sweet… but you definitely need to get to know him better. the only thing you know about him is his name, and the fact that he likes cats. he never told you that, but based on his pencil case being a cat and his phone case having cat stickers on it, you kind of figured it out yourself.

week two

it’s been a while now since you two started talking. he has started sitting next to you more usually too, and so, you two have talked more.

he’s kind, and really helpful. he’s smart too, which is good for you, since you’re been close to failing most of your classes.

he has helped you with homework after school and with studying for test. you’ve also learned a lot about him, things like what he likes, his favorite shows and more.

you know he really likes spicy and sour things, and he’s brought some snacks for you too while you two study together. it’s cute, the way he takes care of you even when you haven’t known each other for long, or even when you’re still a little awkward with him.

surely you’ll get more comfortable later on. you’ll just need a little more time.

week four

it’s been a month now, and honestly, you’re starting to get what all the girls were talking about.

he’s cute, sure, but what’s even better is his personality. he takes care of you, makes sure you don’t forget to eat even while stressing over tests, makes sure you sleep enough, makes sure you understand everything before moving on as he tutors you…

he also loves talking to you about cats, and especially his cats. he’s told you all their names, their breeds, their ages… whatever you could tell about them.

truthfully, it wasn’t that interesting to you. but what was, was how cute he looked while talking about them. he was so excited, like a kid talking about their favorite toy.

week five

you definitely had a crush on him.

for the past week, you couldn’t think about anything else but him. he filled all your thoughts, while you were with him and while you were alone.

when you two studied together, all you could do was to stare at him and act like you listened as he explained something about algebra.

he didn’t seem to notice though. he just kept talking to you normally like your mind wasn’t just full of him.

you needed to do something about it, about your thoughts and feelings.

so what a better way than to meet up with him at a cafe on the last day of the week and tell him everything face to face!

you were a nervous wreck as you sat at one of the tables at the back of the cafe, waiting for junhui to arrive.

you wanted to tell him everything, but you weren’t sure if you could do it.

maybe it was a mistake to invite him here, maybe you were wrong about your feelings. what if he didn’t like you?

the worst he could say is no, though. you two haven’t known for that long, it would be fine if he didn’t want to continue on being friends.

before you could notice him already sitting in front of you, he called out your name.

“you there?”

he asked as he waved his hand in front of your face.

you suddenly sat up and smiled at him, nodding your head. it was going to be alright, he’s not that mean to just leave you there.

and so, you opened your mouth and before you could think about what to say, the words had already come out of your mouth.

“i like you.”

and you stared at him with your jaw open, your face probably as red as a tomato. as if you were the one surprised by the confession.

your head dropped down and you stared at your hands, unable to say anything else. what if you embarrassed yourself even more?

you finally looked back up as you heard junhui call out your name. it sounded a little nervous too, maybe you weren’t the only nervous one in this situation.

“i- like you too…”

he mumbled, almost too quietly. you barely heard it, but yet you jumped out of your chair, your face immediately lighting up.

you were sure he got scared by your quick move, but nothing mattered anymore. he liked you back? was this a dream?

“seriously? pinch me.”

you said before pinching yourself and wincing in pain. it really wasn’t a dream.

then, embarrassed, you sat back down on your seat. you heard junhui chuckling quietly at you as you stared down at your feet. he leaned over and tucked your fallen hair behind your ears.

“i’ve liked you ever since i transferred to this school, you caught my eye the very first day. i was too shy to talk to you, but i gathered my courage. that’s why i asked to sit next to you that one day.”

you could only stare at him with your pupils blown wide. you? since he came here? you were sure you looked like some homeless person that day, what were you even wearing? a hoodie and sweatpants? what was attractive about that…

“stop overthinking.”

his words snapped you back to reality, away from your thoughts. he could read you like an open book, sensing it from meters away that you were overthinking everything.

“i just like you, okay? your personality, the way you always talk so excitedly, your cute little habits, your smile, everything you do gives me butterflies.”

he talked with his hands holding your shoulders, a serious look on his face.

what was this? you were supposed to be the one telling him how much you liked him. not the other way.

you couldn’t help but smile at his words though. he was so perfect. how could someone be so perfect?

“alright…”

you said, a shy smile on your face.

“let’s go? it’s getting late, and you have an exam tomorrow.”

you laughed. you were dating now but still, his nagging didn’t stop. that was one cute trait of his you liked too. he cared for you.

[inseobts]

Sketching Another Life

sabo x gn!reader

you keep sketching sabo even though he died in front of you years ago. but what happens when he appears again?

a/n: omg finally got the chance to post this akdjsj it was in my draft for months and months lmao

words count: 2.9k

tags: doesn’t follow the anime canon events, childhood friends, protective luffy

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

Luffy doesn’t hesitate when he sees Sabo again.

The moment his big brother stands before him, alive, real, breathing—he hugs him.

It’s not even a conscious thought. His body just moves, arms wrapping tightly around Sabo’s torso, pressing his forehead against his coat. He squeezes his eyes shut, because damn it, Sabo was supposed to be dead.

Sabo stiffens for only a second before his arms return the embrace just as fiercely “Luffy…” His voice is hoarse.

Luffy grips the back of Sabo’s coat tighter “You idiot,” he mutters “You—you were gone.”

“I know,” Sabo whispers, and there’s so much regret in those two words that it makes Luffy’s chest ache.

It takes a long time before Luffy finally pulls away. His eyes scan Sabo’s face, as if memorizing every inch of him. He’s older now, different, but still Sabo.

And then Sabo asks the question Luffy knew was coming.

“…What about y/n?”

Luffy’s stomach drops.

He knew Sabo would ask. He knew the moment his brother remembered everything, he’d remember you too.

Because how could he not?

You weren’t just a part of their childhood—you were one of them. The fourth member of ASL. The one who always trailed after them with a sketchbook tucked under your arm, the one who kept their memories alive on paper.

Luffy swallows hard, looking away. He remembers the way you shattered when Ace died. The way you curled into yourself, sketching their faces over and over like you were trying to bring them back.

The way you stopped smiling.

The way you stopped living.

You had lost both of them, and now Luffy refuses to let you break all over again.

So he lies, and for the first time ever he has to be good at lying, because now it's important and he can't do it wrong.

He forces a grin, rubbing the back of his head “Ah, y/n? Yeah, they’re—uh, they’re fine! Doing their own thing!”

Sabo frowns “Really?”

“Yep!” Luffy nods—too quickly “They’re not on the crew anymore. Just, y’know, off somewhere!”

Sabo stares at him “…You’re lying.”

Luffy freezes.

Sabo’s gaze sharpens “Where are they, Luffy?”

Luffy crosses his arms “Not tellin’ you.”

Sabo blinks, caught off guard “What?”

“You heard me,” Luffy says, suddenly serious “I’m not tellin’ you.”

Sabo stares, confusion flickering in his expression “Why not?”

Luffy looks him dead in the eye “Because you died.”

Sabo flinches.

“You died, and Ace died, and y/n almost didn’t make it through that.” Luffy’s voice is tight now, controlled but firm “I won’t let you hurt them again.”

Sabo feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.

You… suffered? Because of him?

“I just want to see them” Sabo says, softer now.

Luffy shakes his head “No.”

And that’s the end of it for now.

Sabo doesn’t push the subject.

He lets Luffy avoid it. He lets him steer the conversation elsewhere. But the thought of you lingers in his mind, heavy and unshakable.

Are you really okay?

Something doesn’t sit right, and then, by pure accident, Sabo finds it.

He’s wandering the Sunny, familiarizing himself with Luffy’s ship. The night breeze is cool, the ocean calm. He steps into a quieter part of the deck, where a small table sits against the railing.

There’s a notebook on top of it.

At first, he doesn’t think much of it. But then his eyes catch the open page—the sketch.

His breath stops.

It’s them. Him. Ace. Luffy. And you.

The four of you, standing side by side, grinning like you hadn’t a care in the world. Just like old times.

But that’s not what makes his chest tighten.

It’s the signature.

A dumb, childish sign that only one person ever used. A weird little mark that never made sense to anyone but you. The same signature you used when you were kids.

And right beneath it—a date.

Just a few days ago.

Sabo’s eyes widen.

Luffy lied.

You’re here.

Sabo grips the notebook, knuckles white. His heartbeat pounds in his ears as he stares at the date—just a few days ago.

He doesn’t know whether to be angry or just hurt. He knew right away that Luffy lied but now he has the confirmation.

Before he realizes it, his feet are already moving. He storms across the deck, gripping the notebook tight in his hand. He finds Luffy near the mast, shoving meat into his mouth like nothing’s wrong.

Like he didn’t just lie to his own brother.

Sabo doesn’t stop walking until he’s standing right in front of him “Luffy.”

Luffy looks up, still chewing “Hmm?”

Sabo holds up the notebook “Explain this.”

Luffy freezes.

His eyes flick to the sketch—to the signature. His chewing slows, and for the first time since reuniting, Sabo sees something rare in his little brother’s expression.

Guilt.

“Sabo…” Luffy swallows, setting his food down.

“You lied” Sabo says, voice controlled but firm.

Luffy doesn’t deny it. He just looks away.

Sabo tightens his grip on the notebook “Why are you doing all this?”

Luffy exhales through his nose, running a hand under his hat “Because you hurt them” he says simply.

Sabo’s stomach twists “I—what?”

“You heard me” Luffy says, looking back at him “Ace died. You were gone. Y/N lost both of you. And you wanna know what happened after that?”

Sabo doesn’t answer. He’s not sure he can.

Luffy’s jaw clenches “They stopped living, Sabo.” His voice isn’t loud, but it’s heavy, filled with something raw “They stopped smiling. They kept drawing, yeah, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t for fun anymore. It was like…” He hesitates, searching for the right words “Like they were trying to keep you guys from disappearing forever.”

Sabo’s fingers curl.

Luffy sighs “I thought I was gonna lose them too.” His voice drops to something dangerously soft “I almost did.”

Sabo’s breath catches.

He never thought about it. He never realized.

He had assumed you were strong. You always were. You were the one who stood beside them, laughing, teasing, drawing stupid little comics of them falling into ditches.

You had always been there but he left. Ace left. And you had to bear that weight with Luffy alone.

Sabo looks down at the sketch again, his own face staring back at him from the page. The way you had drawn him—older, smiling, standing beside his brothers. A version of himself that you had never even gotten to see.

And yet… you still imagined him there, growing up with all of you.

He swallows hard “I need to see them.”

Luffy frowns “No.”

Sabo’s head snaps up “Luffy—”

“I said no!” Luffy stands up, fists clenched “I just got you back, and I’m not letting you mess them up again!”

Sabo’s chest tightens “Luffy, I—”

“They’re happy now!” Luffy cuts him off “They started smiling again! They’re finally okay! What if seeing you ruins that?!…”

Silence.

Sabo stares at him, realization settling in.

Luffy isn’t just protecting you.

He’s terrified.

Terrified that seeing Sabo again will break you all over again.

Sabo takes a slow breath, his grip loosening on the notebook. His voice is softer this time “Luffy… you don’t get to decide that for them.”

Luffy flinches.

Sabo takes a step forward “You think they’ll fall apart if they see me?” He shakes his head “You don’t know that. Maybe it’ll hurt at first, yeah. But don’t you think… maybe they deserve to decide that for themselves?”

Luffy doesn’t respond. His jaw is tight, hands trembling slightly at his sides.

Sabo exhales “I need to see them, Luffy.”

Luffy clenches his teeth, eyes shadowed beneath his hat.

Then, finally—

“…They’re in the infirmary.”

Sabo’s breath catches.

Luffy doesn’t look at him “They got hurt on our last stop. Chopper said they just need rest and Sanji is there to keep an eye on them” He crosses his arms “If you wake them up and make them cry, I’m gonna punch you.”

Sabo huffs a small laugh “Fair deal.”

But Luffy doesn’t laugh. He just turns away “…Don’t hurt them again.”

Sabo watches him for a moment. Then, he nods “I won’t.”

With that, he heads toward the infirmary and then hesitates in front of the door.

For the first time since finding out you were here, uncertainty creeps in.

What if Luffy’s right?

What if seeing him just brings back all the pain you worked so hard to bury?

He exhales, pushing the thought aside. No—he has to see you. He has to make things right.

Slowly, he pushes the door open.

The room is dim, lit only by the soft glow of a lantern. The air smells faintly of medicine, and the steady sound of breathing fills the silence.

His eyes land on you instantly.

You’re curled up on the bed, wrapped in a blanket, your expression peaceful. Even after all these years, even after everything, you still look like you.

Sanji is seated in a chair beside your bed, one leg crossed over the other, a cigarette resting between his fingers. He doesn’t look surprised to see Sabo standing there. If anything, he looks… expecting.

Sanji exhales a slow stream of smoke “Took you long enough.”

Sabo tenses “You knew I was coming?”

Sanji leans back, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray on the table “Didn’t take a genius to figure it out. Luffy’s been acting weird ever since you showed up.” He tilts his head “You finding that drawing must’ve sped things up.”

Sabo doesn’t respond. His eyes flick back to you, his chest tightening.

Sanji notices “They’re okay,” he says, voice quieter now “Just exhausted and resting. Took a rough hit on our last island, but nothing Chopper couldn’t fix.”

Sabo clenches his fists. The idea of you being hurt—even now—doesn’t sit right with him.

Sanji watches him carefully “So? You gonna wake them up?”

Sabo hesitates “…I don’t know if I should.”

Sanji takes another drag of his cigarette, exhaling through his nose. “You really think you get to make that choice?”

Sabo looks at him, startled.

Sanji doesn’t break eye contact “You left them once already, didn’t you?” He taps his cigarette against the tray again “You don’t get to decide what’s best for them. Not anymore.”

Sabo’s breath catches.

Sanji sighs, standing up “I promised Luffy I’d keep an eye on them but I also know they’d kill me if they found out I let you walk away.” He gives Sabo a pointed look “So, what’s it gonna be?”

Sabo looks at you again.

His fingers twitch at his sides.

Then, finally—he moves.

He steps forward, slowly, quietly, until he’s right beside your bed. His breath is unsteady as he really takes you in.

You’re different now. Older. But still you.

And then, without thinking, he does something he hasn’t done in over a decade.

He reaches out—hesitates—then gently brushes his fingers against your hair.

Sanji raises an eyebrow but says nothing.

Sabo swallows hard. His voice, when he speaks, is barely above a whisper.

“…I’m sorry.”

For leaving.

For making you grieve.

For not finding you sooner.

For everything.

And then— you stir.

Sabo’s breath stills.

Your eyelids flutter slightly, brows furrowing as if resisting the pull of consciousness. He pulls his hand back quickly, heart pounding.

He’s not ready but he doesn’t have a choice.

Because then—your eyes open.

You blink a few times, adjusting to the dim light, and then your gaze lands on him.

And you freeze.

Sabo’s throat goes dry. He should say something. But he can’t. He can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t do anything except stare because you’re looking at him like he isn’t real.

Like he’s a ghost.

Your lips part slightly, but no sound comes out. Just wide, unblinking eyes, your body going stiff beneath the blanket.

Sabo finally forces himself to speak.

“Hey.”

It’s weak. Hoarse. Not nearly enough.

You don’t react. You don’t move. You just keep staring.

A thousand emotions flicker across your face—confusion, disbelief, shock—before suddenly, your expression shatters.

Your hands tremble as you clutch the blanket. Your breath hitches, quick and shallow, like you’re trying to hold something back.

“Sanji.”

Your voice is barely a whisper, but Sanji is at your side in an instant “I’m here.”

You don’t look away from Sabo, like if you blink, he’ll disappear “You see him too, right?”

Sabo’s chest tightens.

Sanji exhales, rubbing the back of his neck “Yeah, sweetheart. I see him.”

You inhale sharply “Oh.”

Sabo takes a cautious step forward “y/n, I—”

“Don’t.”

His stomach drops.

You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut “Don’t talk.”

He stiffens.

Sanji places a hand on your shoulder “Breathe,” he murmurs “Nice and slow.”

You try—you really do—but it’s too much.

Because Sabo is standing right in front of you, looking older but still so much like the boy you lost.

And the worst part?

He’s looking at you like he’s sorry.

And that makes you angry.

Your hands curl into fists “You—” Your voice shakes, raw with something you can’t name “You’re supposed to be dead.”

Sabo flinches “I know.”

“Do you?” You snap your head up, eyes burning “Do you actually know what it was like? To lose you? To lose Ace?! I'm so happy to see you but what the hell? Why only now... I don't know how to feel...”

Sanji’s fingers tense against your shoulder, but he doesn’t stop you.

Sabo takes a breath, steady but guilty “I can’t take back what happened. I've lost my memory and got it back just after Ace... But I—”

“You what?” Your voice rises, throat tight “You just forgot about us?!”

Sabo’s expression twists “I didn’t—”

“You did!” The words rip out of you before you can stop them “You left, Sabo! You left me, and then Ace—!” Your voice breaks “And then Ace—!”

You can’t say it.

You can’t say it because if you do, it becomes real again.

The weight in your chest feels suffocating.

And then—a hand.

Not Sanji’s.

Sabo’s.

Warm, hesitant, but firm as it settles over yours.

You stiffen.

Sabo kneels beside the bed, meeting your gaze with something deep, something raw.

“y/n” he murmurs, voice almost pleading “I’m here now.”

Your breath hitches.

Because that’s the problem.

He’s here.

And you don’t know if you can handle it.

You don’t speak, don’t even move for a few seconds. Your heart is pounding in your chest, a chaos of emotions swirling in the pit of your stomach. But then, without warning, you pull him close.

It’s a sudden movement, urgent, like you’re afraid he’ll vanish if you don’t hold onto him with everything you’ve got. Your arms are tight around his neck, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt.

Sabo’s breath catches. He doesn’t know what to do, but he doesn’t hesitate. He wraps his arms around you, careful and gentle, as though afraid that any sudden movement might shatter the fragile moment.

And it’s fragile.

Because in this hug, there’s tension. So much unspoken hurt in the way your body trembles against his, the way your breath hitches every time his fingers brush the back of your head. This doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t make up for the years, the pain, the void that has been left in the wake of his absence.

But it means you missed him. It means, despite everything, you’re still here. Still clinging to him.

He feels you pull away just a fraction, enough for him to meet your gaze. Your eyes are red and swollen, and the sight of it nearly breaks him.

You wipe your face with the back of your hand, trying to hold it together. And then, your voice comes out rough, raw, barely more than a whisper.

“Don’t expect me to forgive you right away.”

Sabo’s chest tightens. He wants to speak, to apologize, to explain himself, but the words are stuck in his throat. Instead, he just nods, his gaze never leaving yours.

“I know,” he says quietly, voice thick “I wouldn’t ask you to.”

You swallow, your breath still uneven, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. The silence between you is heavy, but it’s not suffocating. It’s an understanding.

Then, without warning, you move again. You turn your back to him, walking slowly over to the window, the moonlight casting a soft glow over your features.

Sabo stays where he is, unsure of what to do, still unable to quite believe that he’s standing here, in front of you, after everything.

You take a deep breath and speak, your voice more controlled now, though the weight of everything still lingers.

“When Ace died… I thought I was gonna lose everything. But I didn’t, Sabo. I stayed. For Luffy. For… for us.” You pause, fingers curling into the fabric of your blanket “And I can’t—can’t—lose you again.”

Sabo’s heart aches. He doesn’t deserve that. You stayed. You stayed through the worst of it, even when he wasn’t there, even when Ace was gone.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, barely audible “I can’t take back what I did.”

You don’t look at him, but your voice trembles when you speak again.

“I know.”

It’s simple. But it’s all you need to say.

Sabo stands there for a long moment, the weight of your words sinking in. It isn’t enough to fix things. It won’t ever be enough. But it’s a start.

And he’ll take it.

For now.

[sometimesoliloquy]

Ultimately the right question is: How is it a crime that Nick isn't a Mayday agent? (In the show because he is in the book) That doesn't make him a guy who doesn't fight because he condones what's going on in Gilead.

Exactly right. How is this the thing that makes Nick a bad guy? At this point June taking several years to realize that Nick's not some sort of revolutionary freedom fighter really seems like her issue, not his. We know he's not. But he's also not an agent for Gilead. He's always been in the middle, playing within the system but using it to protect those he cares about, and enact change where he can, to make things better. He's allowed Gilead to "win this battle" so to speak, but it's so clear it's because he was painted into a corner, not because he wants Gilead to win. He's not on their side. Even without knowing all the facts here, June should know this given their entire history.

No, he's never been a Mayday agent but he's also worked against Gilead's rules, or rather worked within Gilead's rules against Gilead. Working as an Eye to get some of the worst commanders out of the way (self-serving at times but also doing what's right). Doing little things he can, like smuggling the handmaids' letters to Canada. And he's not a Mayday agent but we know he's worked with them (which I still maintain that by Lily's definition in 5x03 means he is Mayday). Probably most explicitly at the start of s2 trying to get June out of Gilead. It's stated that he's working with Mayday here but implied perhaps for the first time, or at least in this capacity (smuggling people out). "I don't know, I've never done this before". But he certainly knew how to get in contact with them, and fast, whether because he had worked in smaller capacity with them before or just knowing from being an Eye, we don't know. 

And here's something that hadn't really occurred to me before recently, on my last rewatch--I really think that Nick would have had to call in a big favor--or be beholden to a fair amount of continued assistance/intel to Mayday--for them to agree to helping June escape in the first place. Especially if he hadn't worked with them before. Because as we learn in another episode, as a rule Mayday generally won't touch handmaids (let along a pregnant handmaid!). They're too valuable to Gilead and therefore too high profile, and too dangerous to get involved with. Do we really think Nick could have just run to them and they'd be like sure ok np, we'll just risk our entire operation to move a pregnant handmaid of a powerful commander without some sort of collateral from him(that we of course never see)?

And I think this is also an important reminder that, while they are fighting the good fight, Mayday also has their own priorities, their own code of what they'll do and what risks they consider too great to jeopardize the larger operation, no matter how good the cause or how vulnerable the people needing help. They don't just help anyone who needs it at any time no matter what. They exercise deliberate caution (well, this current s6 Mayday cell maybe not quite as much!) and they are aware of and willing to accept the unfortunate possibility of collateral damage. Which is exactly the kind of calculation that we've seen Nick operate with, the twist being that his motivations are largely very personal--surviving, protecting June and Holly--where Mayday's are largely strategic--striking against Gilead (and we know he's always been most reckless and ready to risk when it comes to June).

I think we should also not forget here the actions--or at least intentions--of other characters that in essence are not that different from what Nick did: Moira smuggling June on the NGO boat in s4, putting everyone involved in danger and the entire future of the humanitarian operations at risk. For personal reasons, for the one person she just couldn't stand to leave behind again. And June, ready to rashly do pretty much the exact same thing in 6x05 asking Janine to leave with them that night, which likely would have scrapped the whole Mayday plan AND put the rest of the women at Jezebels in danger (the two things she's ostensibly mad at Nick for). Both characters were rightfully scolded for their actions but it was portrayed as understandable, the human need to put those you love first (I won't even get into all June's actions that have put others in danger trying to get to Hannah or make Gilead hurt after Hannah is put out of reach). 

So why is it that Nick seems to be the only one who doesn't get grace for this? The only real difference as I see it is that he operates in Gilead, within a place of relative power. But as we've seen, power is often an illusion in Gilead, where you can gain or lose it in an instant, and there is always another man around the corner ready to put a noose around your neck or a bullet in your brain (or shackle you with a child bride, or a trip to the war front) if you get in their way. Nick knows this all too well, having been on both sides of the equation! But this is the thing that allows people to say what he did is so wrong, is so much worse than the others, because of this illusion of power, and the illusion of choice we also know exists in Gilead. Elizabeth Moss can say "but there's always a choice, isn't there" and yeah sure that's true, but in this case the other choice was likely for Nick to die, or be jailed and sentenced to death, and June stuck in NB with his vindictive father-in-law on the warpath. And how is that the best choice?

I've got to think that June is gonna realize this after she's had time to calm down and process, but emotions have been high and she's a very reactive person, a lasher-outer, so it's likely not going to be pretty in the immediate future. She's going to have to come to a reckoning and I think it's also going to be a good opportunity for her character to do some self-reflection on herself and the selfishness several characters have been calling her out on lately. If they don't go that direction they'll not only be doing Nick dirty but also do a disservice to the larger character development of June.

[imperator-kahlo]

I'm still ruminating on that scene between Gail and Tommy in 2x03. About what Gail says about Ellie.

I think it's important to the season, potentially quite troubling in its implications, and the first major change from the game that just kinda stumps me. What are they going for here?

(Is this post just a lengthy justification/reconciliation of my initial very positive response to Gail? Nope, absolutely not, I don't know what you're talking about.)

First off: I'm assuming competence on the part of the writers/showrunners. YMMV, but I believe the changes they're making are purposeful and considered. I think most of the changes last season were highly successful and that most of the changes this season are going to turn out to have been successful, too. So I'm coming at this with the assumption that both this scene and the character of Gail are there for a reason and thematically tied to the story.

Beyond the show and games, I'm drawing on the official podcast for season 1 but I haven't listened to season 2 and don't intend to until the season's over. Wild speculation ahoy!

The scene

Tommy: You see things that others don't. I'm nervous she's gonna do somethin' stupid. Gail: What, you didn't believe her speech? Tommy: Did you? Gail: Course not. She's a liar. Tommy: Well, there's a difference between lyin' and being a liar. Gail: Oh, I know. And that one? Liar. There was maybe one person she told the truth to, and he's… But we can agree to disagree about that. What matters is you're afraid. So, let's talk about it. Okay. Free of charge. Tommy: I just don't want her to go down the same paths that Joel did. Comin' up with justifications and such. All he was really doin' was lashin' out. Gail: So, you think she might have learned that behavior from him? Turns out nurture can only do this much. The rest is nature. If she's on a path, it's not one that Joel put her on. No. No. I think they were walking side by side from the very start. Tommy, I get it. You inherited her, and you wanna keep her out of trouble. Take it from a psychotherapist of 40 years. Some people just… Some people just can't be saved.

Does Gail matter?

I think she matters a lot. Gail appears in three episodes this season, according to IMDB. She gets a good amount of screen time in "Final Days" and "The Path". We linger on her reaction to important moments: the New Year's Eve fight, Ellie's speech in the town meeting. These pauses with Gail suggest that what Tommy says is true: she sees what others don't.

This is a considerable investment of precious screen time in a new character. They hired an absolute powerhouse of an actress to play her, and put her in scenes with three very important characters: Tommy, Ellie, Joel. Her presence in Jackson looms large.

And Gail was married to Eugene, a character we recognise from the game, a character who has been referenced several times in the first three episodes, and a person whose death is no longer natural. Instead, Eugene's death is linked to Joel (and, I suspect, to Ellie—more on that later). This killing is supposed to be on our minds. There's something more to learn about it.

Does this scene matter?

Look, it's the absolute lowest form of media analysis, but... this scene contains, almost verbatim, the episode's title. This episode, 'The Path', is a decisive one for Ellie. She's found, not to belabor the point, her path. And this entire conversation turns on Tommy's fear that Ellie will "go down the same paths that Joel did." I think this scene is pivotal for Ellie and for the themes of the show (which I don't think will be identical to those of the game). I don't think we can just throw up our hands, say "Gail's just a bitter drunk," and write it off as irrelevant to Ellie's arc.

Additionally: Mazin and Druckmann have been interested in exploring a darkness in Ellie since the beginning. In 1x01, 'When You're Lost in the Darkness', we get this unsettling reaction to Joel beating a man to death with his bare hands:

In the official podcast, Mazin says of this moment:

Ellie sees [Joel beat a man] to death, [punch] him over and over and over and Ellie is activated. And this is going to echo forward. This is something that Neil and I talked about a lot. Which was understanding where Ellie goes. And understanding what the connection is between Joel and Ellie. That there's a thread between them that is more than just I used to have a kid and you're also a kid. There's something else. That there's the connection already between Joel and Ellie that is different from his connection with his own daughter. And perhaps potentially stronger and certainly potentially more dangerous.

When they talk about where Ellie goes, they're talking about this season. Where Ellie goes is Seattle. And this scene is telling us something about what's at the end of that road.

Why does this absolutely fucking suck?

The million dollar question about this scene, imo, is whether Gail is a credible interlocutor. Are we supposed to immediately reject what she says about Ellie? I'm convinced we aren't, but I'm less certain where we should be on the spectrum between Gail-tells-the-absolute-truth and Gail-is-insightful-but-ultimately-mistaken.

At the end of 2x01, I was convinced that Gail is a somewhat dysfunctional person whose professional ethics were left back in some QZ in the early 2000s, but that she's also a gifted and insightful therapist. I thought what she did with Joel was more calculated than she let on, that it took both compassion and GUTS (that flinch when he suddenly stood, woof), and that she came within a whisker of getting him to open up.

Let's assume for now I wasn't just wildly incorrect!

I was stoked to see Gail again in 2x03. Her interaction with Ellie at the hospital was pretty neutral—I was mostly just amused by the fact that Gail clearly knew Ellie was full of shit and Ellie clearly knew that she knew.

Then we got to the chat with Tommy and I got whiplash. I want to talk about three things: Gail's identification of Ellie as not lying but a liar, as an equal partner to Joel in the events of season 1, and as, like, biologically predetermined to violence (Gail, what the fuck) and thus beyond saving.

Ellie, the liar

Ellie lied to Gail in the hospital. She lied again in her speech during the town meeting. These are the sorts of lies people tell all the time: I'm not comfortable opening up to you, the therapist I didn't consent to see, so I'm going to fob you off with a little story about how everything's fine. I want a particular outcome in this political debate, so I'm going to craft an argument that's persuasive. These aren't lies intend to hurt. They're intended to protect Ellie from emotional pain. I haven't sat down to catalogue every lie Ellie tells in season 1, but I'm pretty sure they were almost all intended to protect her physical and emotional safety.

And Gail has to know this. To jump from what she's seen this season to Ellie is a liar is wild to me.

But there is one lie that Ellie is always telling. Her immunity. That's a secret she's keeping for her safety, but the danger of telling the truth is sort of abstract. Sure, it endangers her out there, but in Jackson? This is a safe community, where Ellie is building relationships and working towards everyone's security. She's close to key people in leadership positions, so they probably wouldn't immediately try to dissect her. And it's easy to think of scenarios in which her patrol partner gets hurt or killed because they were unaware that Ellie could survive a bite. (This isn't an argument that Ellie should disclose her immunity, just that there are material risks to others to not disclosing.)

So I think this is what we're supposed to take from Gail, here. She sees things others don't, we're told, and she sees this kind of foundational dishonesty in Ellie. I think we're supposed to think of Ellie's secret immunity as a corruption: something destroying Ellie's closest relationships and isolating her from everyone around her.

After all, we know that even after five years, Ellie is on the outskirts in Jackson. I'm not sure all of that marginalisation is down to homophobia (there's an uncomfortable parallel here between an immunity she hasn't "come out" about and her lesbianism, not great).

"I think they were walking side by side from the very start."

Fine, this is a nice line. It echoes the final shot of the credits. But this poetic turn of phrase is buttressed by what precedes it: Gail dismissing the role of nurture in shaping the personality in favour of biological determinism. It is an argument that Ellie's violence is in her blood: it's not that she was born into a post-apocalyptic hellscape, that she was raised in a military orphanage to be a soldier, that she went on a dangerous and life-changing cross-country road trip, or that she took that trip with a man who was good at violence. It's in her blood.

This idea makes me really fucking mad! This show exists in a social context, which we all bring to watching it, and the real-world implications of the logics at play here are awful. First, the suggestion that she and Joel both had the same amount of agency in season 1. She was a child, Gail! Real she might be fourteen, but she was soooo mature for her age vibes. Gross.

And second, if violence is an inherent genetic legacy, we're about two steps away from eugenics and race science. Ellie is white, so the racial implications of Gail's position are a bit obscured for a white audience (we're the default, after all! /s). But imagine for a moment how this line would have felt if said about, say, a Black character.

Okay. It's problematic. Putting that aside, why would Gail say it and why would Mazin write it? I'll come back to Gail at the end. As for Mazin, I think a similar thing is happening here as with the Ellie-is-a-liar thing. From 1x09, "Look for the Light":

Marlene: Our doctor… he thinks that the cordyceps in Ellie has grown with her since birth. [...] It produces a kind of chemical messenger. It makes normal cordyceps think that she’s cordyceps. It’s why she’s immune.

There is cordyceps inside Ellie. It's in her blood. I think, once again, Gail is seeing what others can't, but she doesn't have the necessary information to understand what she's seeing. She sees a darkness in Ellie, but doesn't realise that darkness comes from the fungus. It's not inherent to Ellie.

From 1x08, "When We are in Need":

David: ... You see a lot. So do I. And you know what I see when I look at you? Me. You remind me of me. You’re a natural leader, you’re smart… loyal. Violent. Ellie: You don’t know anything about me. David: But I do. If I let you out of that cage right now, put that knife of yours in your hand, you’d stick me in a second. You have a violent heart. And I should know. I’ve always had a violent heart. And I struggled with it for a long time. But then the world ended and I was shown the truth. Ellie: Right… by God. David: No. By Cordyceps. What does Cordyceps do? Is it evil? No. It’s fruitful. It multiplies. It feeds and protects its children, and it secures its future with violence, if it must. It loves.

I think Mazin and Druckmann are driving at something here. In the game, Ellie's immunity is sort of irrelevant to her arc. It kickstarts the plot, yes, and it provides a reason for Joel to take away all her agency and then lie to her about it. It allows her to survive when Riley didn't, thus piling on a bunch of survivor's guilt. But all the same plot and character beats could have been reached other ways.

In the show, I think her immunity—and especially the fact that the immunity comes from being infected—is important. The cordyceps inside her is going to be fundamental to who Ellie is and who she becomes.

Some people just can't be saved

Pretty much everything I just said about the nature vs nurture stuff.

I did see someone on here—I'm sorry, I can't remember who—suggest that Gail is saying that some people have to save themselves, and can't be helped because they won't accept that help. That's true, and it squares nicely with Ellie's arc in the game. I'm not sure it squares with everything else Gail says in this scene, in which she displays no compassion for Ellie and basically writes her off as an inherently bad person. I think maybe this is another case of Gail accidentally saying the truth while meaning something else.

So why, Gail? Why?

A thing that struck me: In Gail's therapy session with Joel, we see how angry she is at him, how much she hates him for killing Eugene. But even so, she had compassion for him. She promised to help him. When she spoke to Tommy, I didn't see an ounce of compassion for Ellie. It was a really hostile, angry, judgemental way to speak about a young, traumatised woman that she's only therapised for like five minutes. Maybe Gail just has a gift for projecting compassion she doesn't feel when she's actually in session with a client, or maybe there's something we're missing.

Gail's back in episode 6, and she's bringing Eugene with her (Joe Pantoliano!). I think that episode's going to recontextualise this scene between Tommy and Gail. Maybe Ellie was involved in whatever happened to Eugene? Perhaps something she did or failed to do led to Eugene's infection, or at least that's Gail's perception, and Joel did what Ellie's actions caused him to have to do?

Or, you know, maybe Gail just fucking sucks.

Finally, a conclusion?!

I've speculated above about what Mazin and Druckmann are potentially driving at with Ellie's arc. I think there's also some interesting parallels happening here: between Gail, Abby, and Ellie; Joel and Eugene; David and Gail. Between Gail's confrontation with Joel and Ellie's eventual confrontation with Abby. In the immortal words of Billy Ray Cyrus, much to think about.

I'm interested in the choice to make Gail a therapist. Psychology is a field with an incredibly troubled history and it continues to do plenty of harm. Young women (like Ellie) with neurodivergence and/or complex mental health issues have historically been misdiagnosed at high rates with borderline personality disorder, which is very stigmatised and, like all personality disorders, often used as an excuse to write a person off as beyond help and inherently abusive and dishonest (sound familiar?).

But I think a lot of casual viewers would just read Gail as a mental health expert and thus a reliable commentator on other people. Last season, the only person to provide this sort of read on Ellie was David, a blatant villain. This season, we hear it from somebody pretty likeable, presumably insightful, trusted by both Joel and Tommy. It's an interesting choice, regardless of whether Ellie's arc ultimately confirms or denies what Gail says.

Much to think about.