#dreading. it. like maybe nothing happens it all goes well but i just have a very persistent bad feeling

[cockworkangels]

trying to not stress out about something bad happening is difficult when historically something bad has happened every time

[sebscore]

if you feel comfortable doing so, how do you think the grid would react if gzd was going through a rough patch and she’s being like really quiet and in her head?

i’m kinda slipping back into this era and i just need the grids comfort

THIS IS ALL I NEVER WANTED

pairing: lando norris x driver!reader / daniel ricciardo x driver!reader / sebastian vettel x driver!reader / lewis hamilton x sebastian vettel

warnings: reader feels defeated and is ready to give up. swearing. mention of sexism.

author’s note: the comfort fic is finally hear, lmao :) sorry that it took me this long, got caught up with gentle hit, but it’s here now !!

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''That's the car of Y/L that goes into the gravel- another DNF for the young driver.'' Crofty commented as he watched her retire from the fight for the third consecutive race. 

Meanwhile in the car, Y/N's radio was bombarded by her engineer. ''We're so sorry, Y/N. A podium was possible, but we'll keep pushing harder for next time. We'll debrief.'' Marco apologised, frustration and guilt audible in his voice. 

''Understood.'' The indifferent tone came as a surprise to the team and viewers, but it was understandable as the driver hadn't been able to finish a race in over a month. 

The ride back to the paddock was humiliating to say the least. The pitiful looks from fans, the judging eyes of critics and the loud whispers didn't do much to brighten the dark cloud that was her mind. 

Her post-race interviews also weren't a great help to her already declining confidence. 

''It's the third consecutive DNF for you- how are you managing to stay positive and to not lose hope in the car?'' Nathalie asked her, sounding compassionate. 

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. ''Nothing is positive at all,'' she sarcastically chuckled, ''I think I'm doing everything right and then it all goes wrong for some reason.'' 

''I'm working hard with the team, but it doesn't seem like it's paying off at the moment. I'm just very disappointed and I- yeah, well, I hate the car.'' 

The reporter in front of her wasn't used to the visible pessimism of the female driver. Y/N was known for her cheerful and up-beat character, always open for a chat and ready to take on any challenge. That figure seemed to be missing at the moment. 

''I hope it gets better for you, Y/N. You're an amazing driver and I wish you good luck for the next race weekend, thank you so much for talking to us.'' Nathalie rounds up the interview before signalling to her cameraman to stop the filming. 

Y/N was about to leave, but a gentle grab of her wrist stopped her. ''Hey, darling- don't let this get you down, alright? There are many people rooting for you here, me included, and we all want to see you do well. You have incredible talent and we know these lasts results aren't a reflection of that.'' 

The Sky Sports presenter had a soft spot for the young woman ever since her arrival to the paddock. Nathalie has always been amazed by Y/N's ability to shrug off all the sexist remarks and to prove the people that doubt her wrong. 

''Thanks, I appreciate it.'' The soft smile on Y/N's face was a fake one, even a child could spot that. However, her words and gratefulness were genuine and that's all that mattered to Nathalie. 

The driver moved quickly between the different journalists, not in the mood for the long and lovely chats that would have happened had she crossed the chequered flag. ''If one more person reminds me of all the DNF's, I'm going to knock myself out with one of these microphones.'' She mumbled to her team's press officer, making the woman laugh but also look at Y/N with a bit of concern. 

Luckily for her, all the media responsible people must have listened to her prayers and went easy on her- maybe sensing her agitation and worsened mood. She and her press officer moved back to the team's hospitality, where a dreaded team briefing would take place. 

''Obviously these aren't the results that we want. We want wins, podiums and points.'' Her team principal started off the meeting, standing at the head of the table. ''It is clear that changes need to be made, whether that be the car, the strategy or the driver even.'' The eyes of the team shifted from their leader to the young woman staring daggers at him. 

''It's not my fault that the fucking engine blows up or that another drivers decides he wants to play bumper cars.'' Y/N defended herself, not seeing why she should be replaced. 

He shook his head. ''I didn't say it was your fault, but we have to look at all the options and that includes you, Y/N.'' The man clarified, taking a deep breath. 

The woman rolled her eyes, causing Marco to send her a stern look that said ''Please, don't make this harder on yourself.'' She got his sign and sat up straight in her chair, figuring her slumping didn't give off a great impression. 

The briefing continued for another hour, going over all the alternatives they had and all the work they had to do while waiting for the next race weekend. ''Alright- thank you, everyone! Have a great break.'' The team principal dismissed the team. 

Y/N was the first one to get up and leave, debating if she would slam the door, but she didn't want a Kevin x Guenther moment with her boss. 

By the time she was on her way to her hotel, most fans had gone home themselves and the paddock was occupied by crew members cleaning the place up. Y/N had a slow pace while walking, not in any hurry to leave the circuit. 

''You're going back to the hotel?'' A voice behind her spoke up, making the female driver yelp as she didn't expect someone to walk up on her. 

Y/N turned around, Lando looking at her with a grin. ''Did I scare you?'' He laughed, finding amusement in making his friend flinch. 

''You could have been a serial killer for all I know, you idiot.'' She slapped his arm, the tension leaving her body as it was only Lando and not some creep. 

''Only on track.'' He winked. 

The young woman frowned at his action. ''Please, never do that again.'' Her feigned disgust with his wink resulted in a light push from her friend. 

''So… you're going to the hotel now?'' Lando asked her again, not having received an answer yet. 

Y/N nodded. ''Yeah, I could use some sleep before the flight tomorrow.'' 

''You, uh, wanna take a car together to the hotel? You know- that way we're not wasting gas, I guess.'' He nervously asked, mumbling the question almost under his breath. 

''Sure,'' Y/N chuckled, ''Seb will be proud of us.'' 

They decided to take his car as she wasn't in the mood to drive anymore and Lando didn't seem to mind. She was grateful for Lando's company, at least her bad day would end on a good note. 

''Sorry about the race today, I know you could have done more.'' Despite being competitors, they were also great friends and it's not fun seeing your friends have bad results. 

Y/N sighed. ''My team- they're, uh, thinking about replacing me.'' She wanted to get her worries off of her chest and Lando bringing up the race seemed like the perfect oppurtunity for it. 

''What?'' He exclaimed, not anticipating that sentence to come out of her mouth. 

''They say they just have to think about all the changes they could make to get better results, but they've been talking an awful lot about the junior drivers so I'm just preparing myself for it.'' She clarified for him, resting her head against the window. 

Lando let her words sink in. ''They- they can't possibly do that, you're one of the best drivers on the grid.'' It came out louder than he intended, but the thought of one of his best friends not being with him on track anymore upsets him. 

''They can do that,'' she sarcastically chuckled, ''I'm impressed I lasted this long- I just know the FIA will be throwing a party now that they don't have to be feminists anymore.'' 

''What do you mean 'lasted'? You're not going anywhere, we have enough races left where you can show your true skills.'' Lando took his eyes off the road to look her in the eye, perhaps wanting her to see how serious he was. 

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, not wanting to talk about it any further. 

The car stopped in front of a red light. ''Hey,'' Lando put his hand on top of hers, ''I'm being serious. We've been racing against each other for over 10 years now- you're a good driver. You'll probably be a World Champion one day.'' 

''You really mean that?'' Her usual confident demeanour had been traded in for an insecure one, her voice coming out smaller than normal. 

He chuckled, nodding his head. ''Of course, I wouldn't lie to you.'' The gentle way he was looking at her assured her that he was in fact being serious and meant everything he said. 

''Thank you,'' Y/N turned her hand and squeezed Lando's, ''now, shut up and drive me to the hotel!'' She pushed his hand away. ''Enough of this emo shit.'' 

''This is the one time I am being nice to you and you just reject my love.'' 

''Stop being so emotional, Norris.'' 

''There she is!'' Daniel loudly announced as Y/N stepped onto the plane, his hands up in the air. 

She tiredly waved at everyone, exhausted from the lack of sleep she had gotten. The young woman groggily sat down next to her Australian colleague, Michael sitting in front of them. 

Daniel snickered at her disoriented state. ''Good morning to you, mate.'' He greeted her, his infamous bright smile on his face. 

''It's fucking early, what are you so happy about?'' She mumbled, while trying to find a good sleeping position. 

''I'm grateful that I get to live another beautiful day, Y/N! We don't appreciate our existence enough, we need to-''

''I'll be grateful for my life when you shut up and let me sleep.'' She interrupted him, closing her eyes and pulling her hat slightly over her face. 

The McLaren driver opted for another teasing comment, but he could see the obvious exhaustion she had going on and let her be, a light pat on the shoulder working as his way to say ''have a good nap''. 

About an hour later the turbulence of the plane woke her up from her much needed sleep. Y/N took her hat off and noticed Daniel still awake, scrolling on his phone while listening to music through his headphones. 

A soft push against his arm brought his attention from his device to the woman next to him, immediately smiling upon seeing that she's awake. ''Sleepyhead.'' 

The beam on his face slowly changed into a nervous frown, worrying his friend. ''What is it? The reality of life finally settled in?'' Y/N awkwardly said, trying to cheer him up. 

''No, uh, it's just that uhm interview you did with Nathalie yesterday- I watched it.'' He answered, sympathy written all over his face. 

''Oh,'' she sat up straight in her seat, ''well, you know it was just after the race so obviously I was very frustrated. You know how it is.'' The driver tried to come off as nonchalant, failing horribly. 

''Lando told me, Y/N.'' Daniel revealed, wanting her to drop the 'it's not a big deal'-act. 

She sighed. ''Oh, that little snake.'' She muttered under her breath. 

''No, I'm glad that he told me. He said he's never seen you so defeated and the way you were talking to Nathalie- you haven't given up, have you?'' Daniel had seen how her recent race results had affected her, but he wasn't aware how deep her frustrations and insecurities had settled in. 

Her silence to his question was an answer in itself. 

''You've been working your ass off since you were like what? 5-6? You're not gonna throw all of that away just because of 3 bad races, right? That's nothing like you.'' The Australian ranted, baffled over her ruined confidence. 

Y/N glanced outside her window, seeing they were high above the clouds. ''I'm not throwing anything away, it's just… my teams seems to have already made up their mind and are just waiting on the right time to tell me that someone else is taking my place.'' The young woman clarified, her words not helping Daniel's growing worries. 

''They would be fucking idiots to replace you, you know that.'' He sneered, rolling his eyes at the thought of another person driving in her seat. 

She weakly chuckled at his response, not finding much humour in the insult to her bosses. 

Daniel's shoulder gently pushed against hers. ''Hey, maybe you need to talk to Seb or Lewis, they're better at this pep-talk shit than I am.'' He suggested, figuring the two older men might have more of an influence on her. 

Y/N let his words process for a few seconds, considering seeking a listening ear in either of the world champions. ''I- I don't know, Dan. They probably have better things to do.'' 

''Like what?'' 

''I don't fucking know- planting trees, feeding Roscoe, whatever.'' She blurted out, making both of them laugh at the random activities they could be doing. 

''Just think about it, I think you'd feel a lot better after talking to one of them.'' Daniel didn't want to push her, knowing it would have the opposite effect on what he wanted for her. 

A tired smile made its way onto her face. ''I will, thank you.'' 

''Good,'' his face mirrored hers, ''and if they do replace you, they're just like Netflix.'' 

''Like Netflix?'' 

''A bunch of cunts.'' 

''I've never seen her that quiet.'' Sebastian mumbled to the Brit next to him, observing the young woman who sat slumped over in her chair. 

Lewis looked over at her, being as equally bewildered as his German colleague. ''I don't blame her, all the stuff they've been saying about her is awful.'' He whispered back. 

''What do you mean?'' Sebastian frowned. 

The Mercedes driver uncomfortably shifted in his head, leaning more towards his friend. ''People have been saying a lot of shit on social media and those fucking annoying journalists certainly don't help. Also, that interview their team principal did.'' 

Sebastian rolled his eyes at the mention. ''Hanna showed me, that was so out of line. He knows people have been wanting her out since the day she got in- shame on him for making all of that so public.'' 

Her team principal had given a quite lengthy interview over the break between the race weekends, publicising the team's problems and their possible solutions, which included a hint to a potential driver change-up. 

''None of the DNF's were even her fault, it's absolutely ridiculous.'' The slander on her name greatly upset Lewis, aware of the talent she possessed and it made him angry that there was even a chance that she might not be on the grid with them the next year. 

''I know and it has taken such a toll on her, Daniel said he talked to her, but I'm a little worried.'' The Aston Martin driver told Lewis, his puzzled look turning into one of sadness. 

The Brit scratched his voice. ''Maybe you can give her some confidence? You've known her for a long time, I'm sure she'll appreciate it.'' 

Sebastian slowly nodded his head, figuring the World Champion might be right. ''Yeah, I'll talk to her later.'' He confirmed, still watching the obvious daydreaming woman from across the room. 

The driver's briefing went on for about half an hour more, the director seeing the visible boredom on every person's face and calling it a day for everyone. 

Y/N couldn't have been more relieved that the meeting was finally over, wanting nothing more than going back to her own hospitality and figuring out ways to make the car work, and actually finish this time around. 

She was one of the last people to leave the briefing room, only George, Lewis and Sebastian walking behind her. The latter tapping her shoulder. ''Hey, haven't talked to you today.'' 

''Yeah, lots of briefings with the team, you know.'' The younger one responded, giving him a quick glance. 

''How's that going?'' 

The woman remained silent for a few moments, considering how much she should tell her mentor about the current state of her place in the team. ''Uhm, well, it's going… decent, I guess.'' Y/N muttered, trailing off. 

''Decent?'' Sebastian repeated, as if asking ''are you serious?'' 

''There are like a bunch of reporters around us, what do you want me to say?'' She replied, a defensive tone to her voice. 

The German patted her back, sensing her agitation. ''It's okay, let's discuss somewhere private.'' He calmed her down, suggesting a different place to have a conversation. 

''Okay.'' 

They opted for her personal driver's home, that being the closest space where they could talk with just the two of them. Some of her team's staff had given the Aston Martin driver some weird looks while they walked through the hospitality, but he brushed them off. 

The pair sat down on her small couch once they arrived, not much space between them. 

Y/N felt some nerves settling in her stomach as she waited for Seb to start speaking, not knowing what he was going to tell her. 

''I'm just gonna be straightforward,'' he started off, ''you can't continue with this attitude, cause you're only setting yourself up. You are a great driver, Y/N. We all have our off weeks, we're not perfect.'' 

''I understand that this isn't a nice situation to be in. Trust me, this green vegetable that I'm driving isn't doing much better at the moment,'' he chuckled, making her crack a smile, ''but if there's one person that can completely turn their season around, it's you.'' 

Y/N avoided eye-contact with him, not sure how to respond to his kind and encouraging words. ''I appreciate that, Seb. I'm not giving up, it's just… very difficult and people are constantly bringing it up, and making articles and shit- that doesn't help me at all. I'm still gonna do my best, but… yeah- it's just difficult.'' 

''I know it's hard and I've heard the media has been hard on you. That's what they do and they see you as an easier target for clicks and whatnot,'' Sebastian rolled his eyes at his own mention of the media, ''But you're better than believing their words.'' 

''You are a talented driver, you have so much potential. Do you think I would have spent all these years with you if I thought you shouldn't be in F1?'' He asked her, a look on his face that told her he wanted an answer. 

The young woman timidly shook her head. ''No, you wouldn't have done that.'' 

Sebastian smiled at her response. ''See?'' He put his arm around her, pulling her closer into him. ''Whether you believe it or not, you're leading this new generation. You're a decent car away from being a World Champion, you know that right?'' 

''Did you talk to Lando? He also said that.'' Y/N nervously grinned. 

''Just accept the truth!'' The German squeezed her shoulders. ''You've proven that you can do anything. You don't want to let down all those young girls that started karting because of you, right? What message would it send to all of them that their role model quit, because she got bumped off the road or her car simply decided to turn itself off.'' 

''You're right,'' she sighed, admitting to herself she needed to drop the pessimistic attitude, ''I don't just owe it to myself, but also to them.'' 

Sebastian nodded along to her words, letting out a deep breath. ''I'm relieved you're seeing it, I don't like seeing you like this. It's weird not seeing you smile or making fun of the drivers.'' He smirked, patting her shoulder. 

''I guess everyone deserved an off-day, tomorrow I'll start again.'' Y/N grinned, laughing at Sebastian's reminder of her fondness to poke fun at their colleagues. 

The senior driver gave her one last squeeze and stood up from the couch, adjusting his pants. ''No more frowns, alright? You're gonna do great this weekend and you're gonna show everyone why you deserve your seat.'' 

Y/N nodded, more confident than when she first walked back into her driver's room. ''Yes, I'm gonna do my best, Seb.'' 

They bumped their fists as if to solidify it was going to be a great race weekend for them both. 

''And go easy on me tomorrow with the teasing.'' 

''I'd rather be run off the track again then let that happen.''

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[wandanatsthings]

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝

Hey guys so this post might contradict my last but this is something I struggled with and thought others might be able to relate So I thought i'd share. Hope you enjoy it, feedback is always welcomed. New writer. 

(P.s Im dyslexic i'm trying my best) 

Word count: 2.7k 

Warnings: Mentions of body type/weight (not specific #), not eating, speaks of being ambushed but does not go into detail. Working out, angst and fluff. Missing S/O. Cursing.  Panic attack maybe?/ breaking down sobbing. Stress. I think that’s it. Please let me know if I  miss anything :) 

Summary: Reader stressed out and doesn’t have an appetite while Wanda and Natasha are away on a mission. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n Pov

You had just gotten home from a long day at work where nothing had gone your way. It started with the mission reports that you swore you had completed going missing. You had torn almost your whole office apart looking for them. You just could not find them. You had finally accepted the fact that your work day would be spent redoing mission reports. When you got word that you would be sent on a mission to receive some data from Hydra that SHIELD needed. You usually didn’t complain about going on missions but with the mission reports that needed to be redone on top of the report you were going to have to write for this mission to say you were dreading it would be the least, but you packed up, got on your suit and went outside to the landing pad where the quin-jet was right there waiting for you.

When you got there you were able to get the files you needed. The problem only came when you were trying to leave. The heater sensor on your suit detected hydra agents right where you needed to go to get to the jet and by your heat sensor flashing red like crazy you could tell that there were a lot of them. You took a deep breath and started to walk towards them. The closer you got you could count that it was a total of 10 of them. “I can do this,” you said to yourself. The agent closest to you was to the right with his back turned so he couldn’t see you. You decided that now would be a good time to try out your girlfriend's widow bites that she had given you weeks prior. You threw one out towards him and watched it take effect.

That went well you thought but as you went to do the same to the other agents that had their backs to you, You had been spotted. They all came running towards you, some with their weapons drawn, others ready to avenge you with their fist. Luckily after a long gruesome fight, you were able to get back to the jet with all the information Furry needed. You had some scrapes and bruises but honestly, you didn't care. All you wanted to do was get back to Nat and Wanda. After the long shitty day you had, you decided that the mission reports could wait until a later date. When you got back to the Avengers compound furry was already waiting for you at the landing pad with his hand out for the flash drive that contains all the information SHIELD required.

“Do you have the file and what the hell happened to you?” furry said with a curious look on his face. “Yes I have the files and to answer your question I was ambushed.” You said anxiously to get back to your living corridors to shower and finally be with your girlfriends. “Well are you okay?” he asked. Now furry wasn't the type to show his emotions but you had become his daughter much like Natasha so it didn’t surprise you when he voiced his concerns. “Yes I'm fine, just a couple of scrapes and bruises, nothing I can’t handle.” you reassured him. “Okay well, if it becomes anything more go see Dr. Banner and thank you.” With that, he walked away to go wherever furry goes and you headed to your floor where you hoped your lovers would be waiting for you.

When you got there though you were surprised to hear that the house was fully quiet. Are they home? You wondered. To answer your question, you walked farther into the kitchen and you saw a note on the counter. You grab the note, open it and what you read makes your heart sink. “Hi Detka, we're sorry we are not there to welcome you home. We got called on a short mission and should be back by the end of tonight to have dinner with you. Also, I (Wanda) made your favorite for lunch. It's in the fridge, heat it when you're ready. Xoxo Wands & Natty.” You put the note back down on the counter with a sigh. You understood how random missions could be. I mean you just went on an unexpected one yourself but you really wanted your girlfriends to hold you after the crappy day you had and they weren't here. Now you know that's not their fault but you couldn't help but feel just a little disappointed. You walked to the fridge to get the lunch your sweet witch had made for you and when you pulled it out you saw yet another note sitting on top of the cling wrap plate. You took the note off the plate and put it into the microwave so it could heat while you read the note. “Hi Detka, I hope you got our first note again we're sorry but I made your favorite. We love you!” You smiled at that. You love that they took the time to leave you notes. To you, it showed how much of a priority they thought you were.

By the time you finished reading the love-filled note, you heard the microwave beep. You got the food out, stopped by the drawer by the sink to grab yourself a spoon, and made your way to the dining room table to enjoy a meal that your wonderful girlfriend made. It made you chuckle when you thought back to how Wanda specified that it was her who made it. Both of you know that Natasha couldn’t cook to save her life. When You take the cling wrap off of the plate. Your stomach turned. It wasn’t the food. No, the food looked amazing. It was you. For some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to eat it. Now this wasn’t new to you. Anytime you had a bad day or things felt out of your control you just wouldn’t have an appetite. It had gotten better when you met your girlfriends. They would always listen to your venting and be there when you needed them. You hadn’t had this problem in a while when they were around. But you were a 24 y/o woman. You were sure you could handle a little stress without your girlfriends coming to your rescue. So you put up the food to come back to it later. While you were waiting for your appetite to come back around you decided to go take a shower and start on all the mission reports you had to get done.

A few hours had passed and it was almost dinner time. You had gotten so caught up in doing your mission reports that you hadn’t even realized that your loves were not back yet. With that, you got up to go ask Tony where they were to see if he had any updates. On your way to Tony’s lab, you stopped at the kitchen to get a water bottle, When you opened the fridge you saw your lunch still sitting there untouched “I'm gonna eat it later.” You said to yourself. When you got to Tony's lab you saw him hunched over looking at what looked like to be floor plans, for what you had no idea but you learned early on in your time here to never ask.

“Hey Tony,” you said approaching him. He looks up from what he’s doing and acknowledges you. “Hey kid, whatcha up too?” “Nothing much, um I was wondering if you had any update on Nat and Wanda? They were supposed to be back by now.” You replied. “No, why do you guys have a hot date planned or something?” He said winking at you. “No, Tony was just wondering where they were.” You say annoyed. He laughs and says “Okay okay um maybe ask Steve? He should know.” “Okay, thank you asshole.” You say with a slight smile on your face as you walk away. “Your welcome ass-hat.” You hear him yell. Although he was a pain in your ass 90% of the time you love the red tin man. You got on the elevator to go find Steve only to realize you had no idea where he was so you asked Friday. “Hey Friday, where’s Steve?” “Steve Rogers is in the gym agent y/l/n.” they reply. “Thanks, Friday.” You say back as you push the gym floor button on the elevator. When you arrive you walk in to see him punching a punching bag. He immediately notices you. “Hey, y/l/n what can I do for you?” He says “Hey cap I was wondering if you had any update on Wanda and Natasha. They said they were going to be back by dinner time. Any idea on where they are?” He looks at you with a sad look on his face. “Yeah, I'm sorry y/n their mission turned out to be not as easy as we thought and they're gonna have to go undercover for a week. Maybe more.” When you hear this your heart drops for a second time this day. “Okay, thanks, Steve.” You say sadly. “You welcome y/n.” He says with a frown on his face knowing how hard it is for you when the 2 red heads are away. When you get back to your floor you decide to call it a night exhausted from the day you've had. As soon as your head hits the pillow you're asleep dreaming that your girlfriends are in the bed with you. While the meal in the fridge sat there waiting to be eaten.

2 weeks. 2 weeks had passed since you saw your girlfriends and since you had a full proper meal. With the stress of work and missing your lovers, you had barely eaten anything more than an apple here and there with some water. Along with that, you had been working out to try and keep your mind off of the fact you hadn’t even talked to them in 2 weeks since it was an undercover no-contact mission. So it was no surprise that that's where you were when they came home.

Wanda’s Pov

When we finally got home after 2 weeks of being undercover all we both wanted was you, food, and a shower. You being the main goal though but when we came into the house it was quiet. We called out to you but no one answered. It was rare that when we returned from the mission you didn’t come running into our arms so excited that we were home so we then decided to ask Friday where you were. “Hey Friday, where's y/n?” “Welcome home Ms. Maximoff and Ms. Romanov. Agent y/l/n is in the gym currently.” They said, “Okay thanks Friday.” I said looking towards Natasha “Let's shower and stuff and then we can go get her and have dinner together.” I say. She nods towards me and says. “Sounds like a plan.” We then make our way to our bathroom to shower.

Nats Pov

After Wands and I shower I headed into the kitchen to get some water while she put on lotion. When I went into the fridge I was surprised to see that the meal Wanda made you still sat in the fridge untouched beside the note being gone. I then looked around more in the fridge to find that nothing else had been touched either. Everything was in the same place as how we left it 2 weeks ago. I then looked around the entire kitchen to come up with the same results. So I called Wanda out here to tell her what I had found and with one look we both raced to the gym to find you. When we got there we could see you through glass, running on the treadmill but when we walked fully inside the sight we saw broke our hearts. You were thin. Like unhealthily thin. Now you weren't even overweight to begin with so with all the working out and barely eating it was enough that within 2 weeks you looked sickly. At the sound of Wanda's gasp when she saw you. You finally noticed them standing there.

Y/n Pov

I was running on the treadmill with my headphones on when I looked up and saw the women I had been longing for for the past 2 weeks. I quickly shut off the treadmill and ran towards them. When I finally reached them I just hugged them, they immediately both hugged me back but something felt off. When I looked up at their faces both of them had tears in their eyes. I let go a little and asked them “What's wrong, Is everything okay? Are you guys hurt?” I say checking over them frantically. When I'm satisfied with my check I look up to them and what comes out of Wanda’s mouth makes my stomach turn."Have you been eating?” she says shakily “What do you mean? Of course, I've been eating.” I say getting a little defensive. “No you haven't’ the meal Wanda left for you before we left is still there and nothing has been moved in the kitchen or the refrigerator. Is everything okay? Are you sick?” Natasha asks. As soon as she asks that You break down in tears. All of the stress of the weeks prior catching up with you all at once. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” You say sobbing and falling to the floor. Wanda and Nat both catch you before you can reach the floor and bring you into their laps just holding you and whispering sweet nothings. When you've finally calmed down Natasha is the first one to speak. “Do you wanna tell us what's going on or would you like to talk about it later?” “No, we can talk about it now,” You say, your scratchy voice from crying.

While you're preparing yourself to tell them everything from the past weeks you feel both of them kiss your forehead and that's what gives you the strength to start talking. “Um before you guys left I had been having a rough day. My mission reports had gone missing and they were due soon and I had got sent on a mission that was supposed to be easy but then I got ambushed.” As you say that Wanda interrupts you and asks “Are you okay, did you need to go to medical?” while checking over you just like you had done minutes ago to the both of them.“I'm fine don’t worry,” You say kissing her hands you then continue. “As I was saying I was ambushed and all I wanted was you guys when I got home and you weren’t there. And don't apologize I can feel you both getting ready too. I understand unexpected missions happen and that is not your fault. When I realized you were not there I saw your first note on the counter which I love. When you leave me notes by the way but then I made my way to the fridge to get lunch. I had all intentions of eating it but when I sat down to eat it I just couldn’t.” You then go on to explain to them that when you're stressed out and when things get out of your control you lose your appetite.

After you're finished talking, Wanda begins to speak. “We are so sorry you had to go through that alone, but as long as we're your girlfriends you won’t ever again have to. Maybe we can talk to Bruce and find you some new coping skills to cope with the stress.” She says “Yeah, what do you think about that sweet girl?” Natasha asks you. You look up at them with so much love in your eyes. “I think that’s a great idea, thank you guys,” You said, giving each of them a kiss. “No problem zolotse,” Natasha says with a smile on her face. “How about we get some lunch?” says Wanda. You look up at them with a small bit of fear on your face having not eaten in 2 weeks you were scared of how your stomach would react. “Don't worry love, we’ll be right here with you.” You hear Wanda say. With that, you all start to make your way to your floor to enjoy lunch. With you thinking that no matter how stressed you got you will always have your girlfriends to make it better.

[gyuswhore]

Pure Math 171

choi seungcheol x reader

wc: 2.5k

genre: fluff, humour

warnings: math. (1) dirty joke. thats it i think (lmk if there's more)

synopsis: Walking into the first class of the semester shouldn't have been as eventful as it was (not that you can complain for long)

masterlist

(A/N): I haven't posted a fic in a while so i hope i redeem myself with this one hehe. a million thank yous to @toruro for beta-ing for me (even at the dentists lol) you can thank her for this too shes the reason i finished so quickly kjvkdfjg

It takes a lot to surprise you. 

It’s not that you enjoy it, but your friends simply make it easy to read them. It took Soonyoung seven human years to learn the art of surprise birthday parties. You know, the ones where you aren’t supposed to know he’s throwing a party just for you. Or Minghao, before he learned the art of deceit, and held his disdain like a badge on his face. 

You seem to have honed the skill of psychics better than most, confident in your ability as a higher-risk party trick. 

Skipping into the new semester at uni, you enter your lecture hall at the reasonable hour of 8 in the morning, expecting nothing but the usual. No surprises were to come your way today, just another first day back, fueling for the coming months.

You push the doors of your lecture hall open, ready to greet your professor for Pure Mathematics 171, pushing your spirits high to commence your per semester buttering. What you find though, is the front desk crowded with students wanting to do the exact same, all for the professor that would be teaching the most dreaded unit of the course. Of course. 

You spot Soonyoung among the crowd as he spots you at the door as well. You note how gleeful he looks at this hour. This can’t be good. Hao too presses his mouth together in an attempt to conceal his budding smile, hand to mouth when he miserably fails.

What on Earth was so funny? 

Attempting to crane your neck, over and under, to catch a glimpse of the ever popular professor, you find yourself blocked by the sea of math nerds and ass-kissers just like yourself. Curiosity was becoming a little too much for you to bear, not that your friends sniggering and whispering while looking directly at you was helping at all. You were just about to march up to the two and demand to be put on their shoulders to see what the fuss was about. Until—

“Alright! It’s almost 8, let’s save the chatter for after class, how about?” you hear a voice boom in the centre of the anthill. 

You knew that voice.

You watch in slow motion as the hoard of bodies disperse, not missing the pointed glances of both your friends directed at the teacher’s table. 

And then you see it. Standing there, looking down at his folder sheets, dry-erase marker in hand. 

Choi Seungcheol.

Choi Seungcheol was your professor.

Your boyfriend was your professor.

How did this happen? Did he know about this? Was he keeping it from you? Were you blind when you read the clear ‘Dr. Kim’ next to your unit code? 

Seungcheol doesn’t notice you standing there slack mouthed and frozen in his classroom. Until he does. 

Instead of mimicking your shocked expression, you watch as his mouth goes to pull what you recognise as a smirk. 

Oh, he thinks this is hilarious. 

His eyebrows are raised as he questions you, “Will you be taking a seat, miss?” 

It’s then that you realise you're in the middle of a lecture hall with about a hundred eyes watching you as you gape at your collective professor. Could they be mistaking your imminent horror as you checking him out? 

If this was another situation maybe you would have, but this was starting to sound like a sick joke. 

But alas, you could not confront your professor like that, at least not in front of an audience. So you find it within yourself to slowly slug towards the staircase to plant yourself next to your friends. Both of whom were having the absolute time of their lives watching your dazed expression. 

You might have committed murder that day. 

You’re forced to snap out of it as you hear Seungcheol - professor Choi - begin to speak at the front of the class.

“Good morning everybody,” he starts, hands on his desk, a pleasant expression on his face as he awaits a response from his borderline comatose students. A chorus of good mornings greet him back, excluding your own.

“Hope you guys had a good break, welcome to Pure Math 171, my name is Professor Choi” he moves to scribble his name on the whiteboard, “And I would like to be referred as such.” 

His gaze finds you in your seat as he utters those words. He is quick to shift.

“We’re gonna be starting light today, I’ll be going through our unit guide and grading system…” 

Seungcheol talks. And talks. And talks. And you don’t listen. You watch instead.

You’re mad at him. Really mad at him. But you can’t help but wonder as he walks around looking like that. He’s in the simplest dress shirt and slacks of a neutral colour, but he wears it oh so well. 

You’ve watched him every morning as he gets dressed for work, knowing his attire has always suited him. Your friends who have been in his classes have expressed their disappointment when told he wasn’t single, and promptly draw open in shock when they realize it's you that’s snagged him before the world could. 

Seungcheol, for lack of a better word, hits different when he’s in his element. His hair is pushed back and out of his face, noting how his glasses look so much sexier when he’s pacing the room with hands dipped in his pockets. He’s speaking tongues of numbers and symbols, and it’s suddenly the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

But you're mad at him. It shouldn’t be that hard to remind yourself. 

“You know, you’re being real ungrateful for a person who just got a free pass on the hardest class this fucking insitution can cook up,” Soonyoung whisper-shouts next to you.

Minghao quips beside him, “Look alive, sister, you’ve hit the jackpot.”

“Were you two in on it?” you finally snap, irritated at their apparent glee. 

Soonyoung snorts, “Fuck, no, we saw him when we walked in this morning”

“So did he know?” 

“Oh, I think Professor Choi would be glad to tell you himself after hours,” Minghao sleazes while Soonyoung throws you the greasiest wink known to man. 

Disgusted and disturbed, you turn your attention back to the front of the room. You’re still disgusted and disturbed. Seungcheol is still there, looking like he does, scribbling some example equation on the board. 

“Hmm. I think professor Choi ought to know his favourite student’s having trouble paying attention? We can’t have that, you should move up front.”

You do move. Away from your friends to the seats higher up. 

It’s a mind-numbing two hours in which you think you experience every emotion possible. 

You think of your friends who have sat in his classes all semester, that have ogled him and admitted his apparent attractiveness. There were people in this room that were thinking the very same thing in this very moment, and it was making your skin crawl. You wanted to get up and scream: This is your boyfriend.

But alas, you are but a tired, tired college student. He wouldn’t fail you, would he? Then again, he has a ruthless streak of keeping you from the lights of life when you’re slacking in dire times. You might be the love of his life, but he remains a man of discipline. 

It’s an annoying trait, but only ever in the moment. He might be the sole reason you haven’t completely lost yourself in the sea of academics. 

“I think we can wrap up with that, it’s basic stuff but it won’t hurt to revise on your own before next week when we really get into it,” Seungcheol’s voice booms.

There’s a churn in your stomach for some reason, and you have to neutralize your breathing as you watch the lecture hall slowly empty out. A few students remain lingering at the front desk for yet another round of buttering. Seungcheol entertains them, pleasant smile on his face, nodding along to something. You remain seated, arms and legs crossed as you stare daggers into the top of Seungcheol’s head as he speaks with his students. 

The remaining students file out as well, and you notice how Soonyoung and Minghao are long gone, leaving just you and Seungcheol alone in this big, big room. 

It’s only then that he looks up searching, to check if you had left yet.

He remembered quick. 

His eyes finally land on your, disgruntled, tight form, refusing to make eye contact for more than three seconds before huffing audibly, moving to put away your things. Seungcheol moves around his front desk, hands in pockets, hiking his way up the lecture steps to where you were at the top row. 

You’re shoving your laptop in your bag by the time he’s done with his trek, planting himself on the chair next to you loudly. You ignore him.

“Do you think we’d get in trouble if they caught us like this?” he muses after a few silent moments.

“Caught us like what?” You snap. There goes your pledge to remain silent.

“You can’t possibly think a teacher and his student caught in a classroom by themselves is necessarily a point in our favor” 

“I’ll do the honors then” with that you’re swinging your bag over your shoulder to trudge behind him to the steps leading down, wanting to be out of his presence for the time being. 

You’re barely past him when there’s a grip on your wrist, firm and purposeful, that tugs you backwards in a harsh manner. The bag on your shoulder is sent to the floor while you, in your entirety, are sent straight into Seungcheol’s lap. 

Bastard. 

The smirk on his face is enough to send you into a pot of livid fumes, right after you’re done balancing yourself on his shoulders. You try not to grip on too tight. 

“What makes you think you can leave without being dismissed?”  

“What the fuck.” 

“Language, miss. I don’t tolerate obscenities in my classroom.” It might’ve been a menacing threat, but with what lay behind the glint in his eyes you knew he was being a little shit. 

It takes you every fibre in your body to refrain from thinking too much about him. Him and his hands that rest on your thighs, him and his hands that are placed near your waist, stroking and pressing into your shirt. 

No, you're mad at him.

“Did you know?” you ask finally, tired of the back and forth.

“Nope,” he replies, “Found out when you walked in.” 

“Do you not read your attendance sheet? Isn’t that your job? You had the entirety of summer to give me a heads up, this is your fault!” 

“Dr. Kim got into an accident last night, she’s out of service for the rest of the semester. I didn’t know until I came in for my other class I was being switched over—” 

“How does that happen?!” you almost yell.

He’s silent for a moment before beginning again, “Do you want me to ask for another class?” 

Wait, what. 

“I didn’t say that—” You can’t finish because your being pushed off your seat on his lap to stand while he gets up as well.

“I’ll go talk to the co-ordinator then, class isn’t working out for me.” With that he’s trudging back down the steps, making a beeline for the door.

You’re left stunned at the top of the stairs, not knowing if he was being serious or not. Were you about to let his presence bother you that bad? To the point he had to switch classes? What were you even that upset about? 

Twirling around in place trying to look for the bag that was strewn about earlier, you grab the straps and race down the steps. If Seungcheol can hear your bounding footsetps, he doesn’t show it. Instead you crash into his back just as he’s about to leave the room, to which he turns around. 

The smirk seems glued to his face and you realize right then you may have been lured. With the 180° that had become of your perception, you couldn’t be mad at him anymore, cooling off the simmer that had been brewing for the past couple hours. 

“Maybe…Maybe I can live with seeing your face for a couple hours a week,” you mumble, suddenly unable to maintain eye contact.

He lets out an incredulous laugh, “Couple hours a week?! Do you realise we sleep in the same bed at night, pretty sure that’s more than a couple hours.”

“You know what I meant!” you huff, arms crossed and turning your head away. You cringe slightly at how you voice echoes across the large lecture hall. 

Feeling his hands enclose yours, pulling your body slowly towards him, you bring yourself to look back up at him. His hands come up behind you when you’re close enough, snaking up your back and waist. You try not to shudder, but it’s hard when you know he’s doing it on purpose. There’s warmth that radiates off of him, a stark contrast from the chill classroom, your fingers finding purchase around his own waist.

There’s more of that same warmth when he kisses you, short pecks, yet ones that have you smiling against his lips. The curve remaining as he rests his forehead on yours.

“Let’s go home, just need to grab my stuff,” he says, but makes no effort to move from his position.

“Are you already done for the day?” you frown.

“No,” he muses, “But it’s only the first day. Besides, I wanna sit in bed with my girl while I map her out for the first assignment of the semester.” 

“Does your girl get premium access?” 

“Hm, maybe.” 

Before you can refute, the door of the room bursts open with a bang that reaches straight into your soul. With the way Seungcheol’s eyes widen, you don’t doubt the same was happening in his own chest. 

There isn’t enough time for you to pull away before hearing gasps alluding from the threshold. 

Soonyoung and Minghao stand at the door, scandalized looks complete with hands over their faces. Hao shakes his head in mock disappointment, eyes pointed. Soonyoung pulls out his hands, framing them like he was taking a picture of the both of you gripping each other.

“Now what would the bulletin look like with these two on the front cover? You’re friends with Seok, right? D’you think you could put a word in?” Soonyoung yaps, the most insufferable look on his face.

Seungcheol laughs, to your surprise, and looks over to you, “What d’you think the bulletin would look like with his F on the front cover?” 

“D’you think you could put a word in?” you raise your eyebrows. 

His smile widens but he’s being pulled away as both your friends move forward to surround him. You vaguely register Soonyoung cupping your boyfriend’s face delicately, singsonging about their years of friendship, or how Hao has his arms wrapped around him in a back hug, head on his shoulder. 

You vaguely register any of it, because you’re smiling too hard at the scene. Smiling too hard when Seungcheol catches your eye, before bursting out laughing, attempting to wrestle the two off of him. 

You bring your phone up to the chaos instead of your hands, wanting to frame the scene for real this time. 

[y-umiko]

TOKYOREV BOYS WHEN THEY WANT TO BREAK-UP TO PROTECT YOU

CHARACTER(S): Kazutora . Hanma . Baji WARNING/S: angst? A/N: Please don't be surprised if the writing seems different as it goes on, I wrote each one when i'm in different moods.

Kazutora

Kazutora watches with gritted teeth as the nurse patches you up after being rushed to the hospital. It was nothing serious just some cuts and bruises, but Kazutora can't be relieved, imagining the worse that could happen if didn't arrive in time.

He thought long and hard about it, being with him had made you a target for others. and if separating from you means your safety then he was willing to do it.

but you were having none of it, all it took was to see the dreaded expression on his face to know what was running on his head. after thanking the nurse, you sternly gave him your piece of mind.

"whatever it is that's running on your head, quit it" his eyes previously downcasted and staring at the floor, flickering towards you, "I haven't said anything yet"

"It's written all over your face" you sigh, watching his eyes drift away from yours. Kazutora felt incredibly guilty that he can't bear to look at your eyes.

he had done a lot of bad things in his life, maybe this was his punishment, maybe this was his karma, if it is, he doesn't want you getting the same burden, and maybe he was right.

"Maybe it's for the better that we - "

"No" you quickly cut him off, reaching over to hold his hand, which was incredibly warm, "Listen to me, This is not your fault alright? so don't go having any thought in that pretty head of yours"

Kazutora simply stared back at you, content with your hold on his hand. wondering that maybe he wasn't so bad in his previous life to be rewarded as precious as you.

he was brought back when he felt you squeeze his hand, "are we clear?"

"…yeah" he mumbled, gently leaning towards you and nuzzling his head on your shoulder, this time he'll protect you properly.

Hanma

Hanma knows nothing good comes out of being associated with him. but he was being greedy wanting to have you in his life, he thought he can protect you but how wrong he was.

and for the first time in his life, he didn't want to be selfish, for your sake and his peace of mind.

"so that's it, see you around" he casually bid goodbye, hands stuffed in his pocket, after explaining to you he's breaking up with you 'just because he felt like it'. if it was a normal day it would have hurt you, but you knew him too damn much to know he felt guilty for what happened.

"wait a damn fucking minute" you called after him but Hanma pretended not to hear you and continued walking out of your hospital room. but you were quick to your feet, getting out the bed and dragging the bag of IV with you to catch up with him.

"you can't just come here, say what you want and leave" Hanma momentarily stops in his tracks, an internal turmoil inside his head, a slight worry in his eyes seeing you get out of bed. but if his gonna do it, he has to stay strong, as he continued his way out, "I have nothing left to say"

"Well, I do and you better fucking listen" you voice out loudly than intended, making Hanma sigh as he stops in his tracks once again to give you another piece of his mind and say words he didn't mean but will hurt you so bad that you'll probably stay away from him for good.

"you're serious-"

however, all those words got eaten and forgotten as you came tackling him, arms tightly wrapped around him, and head buried on his chest.

"Don't leave me…please" you coaxed, voice calm and gentle but Hanma can feel the tremors coming from your body. if it was fear of him leaving or fear of the accident. he doesn't care, all he knew was you needed him and that someone has to pay.

"you're a pain in the ass"

As his reasons crumble the bastards who did this to you can enjoy the last hours of their life. meanwhile, he wanted to be a little bit more selfish, as long as you want him, he'll stay with you.

Baji

When Baji came to see you with bruises and some remnants of blood, you immediately knew what had transpired before him seeing you in the hospital.

Baji just can't seat around, he just had to let out his contained rage upon seeing you all bloodied and bruised because of him. and amid the chaos of exchanging fists, he had a thought. his life had always been full of danger and will probably be more dangerous as the Tokyo Manji Gag expands.

he was sure enemies would come swarming towards him and normally that would have thrilled him. but after some careful thought, he wasn't alone anymore, the more enemies he made the more dangerous it become for you and he can only think of one thing to do.

"we should break up"

he coldly said, quick and direct he thought, hands on his side, a glare in his eyes as he stared at you. if there's one thing Baji was good at, it was his acting skills. and if you were anyone else, you would have believed him, luckily, you weren't just anyone.

"I don't understand? why?" you calmly replied, but your eyebrows were furrowed. while Baji remained a certain distance from you. it should be easy he thought, just like he practiced on his head countless times.

"I don't like you anymore"

words he thought would be enough to drive you away yet Baji swore you look calm than he thought you would be.

"then look me in the eyes and tell me you mean it" you sternly replied, and he did so with full confidence but as he searched your eyes, desperately looking for anything that will let him repeat his words, all he found was your eyes fill with unconditional love, eyes that had seen his worse and beauty. nothing came out of his mouth, words stuck on his lips.

"dammit y/n! don't make this anymore harder than it is!"

"then stop it!" you burst out before calming yourself. "I know what I'm getting when I agreed to go out with you, I wouldn't even lie, it was scary, but this is not enough to the point that it will make me leave you, you're stuck with me until the end"

"Besides I have full confidence that you would save me every time"

a rush of warmth spread on Baji's chest, he should deny it, he should continue his act and walk away yet his feet moved towards you as if having a mind of their own. would it be selfish to continue wanting to be with you despite putting you in danger.?

[wands-natsthing]

Stressed

This story was on my old acct @wandanatsthings I made a new one (aka this one) which will be the acct I use from now on.

Hey, guys so this post might contradict my last but this is something I struggled with and thought others might be able to relate So I thought i'd share. Hope you enjoy it, feedback is always welcomed. New writer. 

(P.s Im dyslexic i'm trying my best) 

Word count: 2.7k 

Warnings: Mentions of body type/weight (not specific #), not eating, speaks of being ambushed but does not go into detail. Working out, angst and fluff. Missing S/O. Cursing.  Panic attack maybe?/ breaking down sobbing. Stress. I think that’s it. Please let me know if I  miss anything :) 

Summary: Reader stressed out and doesn’t have an appetite while Wanda and Natasha are away on a mission. 

Y/n Pov

You had just gotten home from a long day at work where nothing had gone your way. It started with the mission reports that you swore you had completed going missing. You had torn almost your whole office apart looking for them. You just could not find them. You had finally accepted the fact that your work day would be spent redoing mission reports. When you got word that you would be sent on a mission to receive some data from Hydra that SHIELD needed. You usually didn’t complain about going on missions but with the mission reports that needed to be redone on top of the report you were going to have to write for this mission to say you were dreading it would be the least, but you packed up, got on your suit and went outside to the landing pad where the quin-jet was right there waiting for you.

When you got there you were able to get the files you needed. The problem only came when you were trying to leave. The heater sensor on your suit detected hydra agents right where you needed to go to get to the jet and by your heat sensor flashing red like crazy you could tell that there were a lot of them. You took a deep breath and started to walk towards them. The closer you got you could count that it was a total of 10 of them. “I can do this,” you said to yourself. The agent closest to you was to the right with his back turned so he couldn’t see you. You decided that now would be a good time to try out your girlfriend's widow bites that she had given you weeks prior. You threw one out towards him and watched it take effect.

That went well you thought but as you went to do the same to the other agents that had their backs to you, You had been spotted. They all came running towards you, some with their weapons drawn, others ready to avenge you with their fist. Luckily after a long gruesome fight, you were able to get back to the jet with all the information Furry needed. You had some scrapes and bruises but honestly, you didn't care. All you wanted to do was get back to Nat and Wanda. After the long shitty day you had, you decided that the mission reports could wait until a later date. When you got back to the Avengers compound furry was already waiting for you at the landing pad with his hand out for the flash drive that contains all the information SHIELD required.

“Do you have the file and what the hell happened to you?” furry said with a curious look on his face. “Yes I have the files and to answer your question I was ambushed.” You said anxiously to get back to your living corridors to shower and finally be with your girlfriends. “Well are you okay?” he asked. Now furry wasn't the type to show his emotions but you had become his daughter much like Natasha so it didn’t surprise you when he voiced his concerns. “Yes I'm fine, just a couple of scrapes and bruises, nothing I can’t handle.” you reassured him. “Okay well, if it becomes anything more go see Dr. Banner and thank you.” With that, he walked away to go wherever furry goes and you headed to your floor where you hoped your lovers would be waiting for you.

When you got there though you were surprised to hear that the house was fully quiet. Are they home? You wondered. To answer your question, you walked farther into the kitchen and you saw a note on the counter. You grab the note, open it and what you read makes your heart sink. “Hi Detka, we're sorry we are not there to welcome you home. We got called on a short mission and should be back by the end of tonight to have dinner with you. Also, I (Wanda) made your favorite for lunch. It's in the fridge, heat it when you're ready. Xoxo Wands & Natty.” You put the note back down on the counter with a sigh. You understood how random missions could be. I mean you just went on an unexpected one yourself but you really wanted your girlfriends to hold you after the crappy day you had and they weren't here. Now you know that's not their fault but you couldn't help but feel just a little disappointed. You walked to the fridge to get the lunch your sweet witch had made for you and when you pulled it out you saw yet another note sitting on top of the cling wrap plate. You took the note off the plate and put it into the microwave so it could heat while you read the note. “Hi Detka, I hope you got our first note again we're sorry but I made your favorite. We love you!” You smiled at that. You love that they took the time to leave you notes. To you, it showed how much of a priority they thought you were.

By the time you finished reading the love-filled note, you heard the microwave beep. You got the food out, stopped by the drawer by the sink to grab yourself a spoon, and made your way to the dining room table to enjoy a meal that your wonderful girlfriend made. It made you chuckle when you thought back to how Wanda specified that it was her who made it. Both of you know that Natasha couldn’t cook to save her life. When You take the cling wrap off of the plate. Your stomach turned. It wasn’t the food. No, the food looked amazing. It was you. For some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to eat it. Now this wasn’t new to you. Anytime you had a bad day or things felt out of your control you just wouldn’t have an appetite. It had gotten better when you met your girlfriends. They would always listen to your venting and be there when you needed them. You hadn’t had this problem in a while when they were around. But you were a 24 y/o woman. You were sure you could handle a little stress without your girlfriends coming to your rescue. So you put up the food to come back to it later. While you were waiting for your appetite to come back around you decided to go take a shower and start on all the mission reports you had to get done.

A few hours had passed and it was almost dinner time. You had gotten so caught up in doing your mission reports that you hadn’t even realized that your loves were not back yet. With that, you got up to go ask Tony where they were to see if he had any updates. On your way to Tony’s lab, you stopped at the kitchen to get a water bottle, When you opened the fridge you saw your lunch still sitting there untouched “I'm gonna eat it later.” You said to yourself. When you got to Tony's lab you saw him hunched over looking at what looked like to be floor plans, for what you had no idea but you learned early on in your time here to never ask.

“Hey Tony,” you said approaching him. He looks up from what he’s doing and acknowledges you. “Hey kid, whatcha up too?” “Nothing much, um I was wondering if you had any update on Nat and Wanda? They were supposed to be back by now.” You replied. “No, why do you guys have a hot date planned or something?” He said winking at you. “No, Tony was just wondering where they were.” You say annoyed. He laughs and says “Okay okay um maybe ask Steve? He should know.” “Okay, thank you asshole.” You say with a slight smile on your face as you walk away. “Your welcome ass-hat.” You hear him yell. Although he was a pain in your ass 90% of the time you love the red tin man. You got on the elevator to go find Steve only to realize you had no idea where he was so you asked Friday. “Hey Friday, where’s Steve?” “Steve Rogers is in the gym agent y/l/n.” they reply. “Thanks, Friday.” You say back as you push the gym floor button on the elevator. When you arrive you walk in to see him punching a punching bag. He immediately notices you. “Hey, y/l/n what can I do for you?” He says “Hey cap I was wondering if you had any update on Wanda and Natasha. They said they were going to be back by dinner time. Any idea on where they are?” He looks at you with a sad look on his face. “Yeah, I'm sorry y/n their mission turned out to be not as easy as we thought and they're gonna have to go undercover for a week. Maybe more.” When you hear this your heart drops for a second time this day. “Okay, thanks, Steve.” You say sadly. “You welcome y/n.” He says with a frown on his face knowing how hard it is for you when the 2 red heads are away. When you get back to your floor you decide to call it a night exhausted from the day you've had. As soon as your head hits the pillow you're asleep dreaming that your girlfriends are in the bed with you. While the meal in the fridge sat there waiting to be eaten.

2 weeks. 2 weeks had passed since you saw your girlfriends and since you had a full proper meal. With the stress of work and missing your lovers, you had barely eaten anything more than an apple here and there with some water. Along with that, you had been working out to try and keep your mind off of the fact you hadn’t even talked to them in 2 weeks since it was an undercover no-contact mission. So it was no surprise that that's where you were when they came home.

Wanda’s Pov

When we finally got home after 2 weeks of being undercover all we both wanted was you, food, and a shower. You being the main goal though but when we came into the house it was quiet. We called out to you but no one answered. It was rare that when we returned from the mission you didn’t come running into our arms so excited that we were home so we then decided to ask Friday where you were. “Hey Friday, where's y/n?” “Welcome home Ms. Maximoff and Ms. Romanov. Agent y/l/n is in the gym currently.” They said, “Okay thanks Friday.” I said looking towards Natasha “Let's shower and stuff and then we can go get her and have dinner together.” I say. She nods towards me and says. “Sounds like a plan.” We then make our way to our bathroom to shower.

Nats Pov

After Wands and I shower I headed into the kitchen to get some water while she put on lotion. When I went into the fridge I was surprised to see that the meal Wanda made you still sat in the fridge untouched beside the note being gone. I then looked around more in the fridge to find that nothing else had been touched either. Everything was in the same place as how we left it 2 weeks ago. I then looked around the entire kitchen to come up with the same results. So I called Wanda out here to tell her what I had found and with one look we both raced to the gym to find you. When we got there we could see you through glass, running on the treadmill but when we walked fully inside the sight we saw broke our hearts. You were thin. Like unhealthily thin. Now you weren't even overweight to begin with so with all the working out and barely eating it was enough that within 2 weeks you looked sickly. At the sound of Wanda's gasp when she saw you. You finally noticed them standing there.

Y/n Pov

I was running on the treadmill with my headphones on when I looked up and saw the women I had been longing for for the past 2 weeks. I quickly shut off the treadmill and ran towards them. When I finally reached them I just hugged them, they immediately both hugged me back but something felt off. When I looked up at their faces both of them had tears in their eyes. I let go a little and asked them “What's wrong, Is everything okay? Are you guys hurt?” I say checking over them frantically. When I'm satisfied with my check I look up to them and what comes out of Wanda’s mouth makes my stomach turn."Have you been eating?” she says shakily “What do you mean? Of course, I've been eating.” I say getting a little defensive. “No you haven't’ the meal Wanda left for you before we left is still there and nothing has been moved in the kitchen or the refrigerator. Is everything okay? Are you sick?” Natasha asks. As soon as she asks that You break down in tears. All of the stress of the weeks prior catching up with you all at once. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” You say sobbing and falling to the floor. Wanda and Nat both catch you before you can reach the floor and bring you into their laps just holding you and whispering sweet nothings. When you've finally calmed down Natasha is the first one to speak. “Do you wanna tell us what's going on or would you like to talk about it later?” “No, we can talk about it now,” You say, your scratchy voice from crying.

While you're preparing yourself to tell them everything from the past weeks you feel both of them kiss your forehead and that's what gives you the strength to start talking. “Um before you guys left I had been having a rough day. My mission reports had gone missing and they were due soon and I had got sent on a mission that was supposed to be easy but then I got ambushed.” As you say that Wanda interrupts you and asks “Are you okay, did you need to go to medical?” while checking over you just like you had done minutes ago to the both of them.“I'm fine don’t worry,” You say kissing her hands you then continue. “As I was saying I was ambushed and all I wanted was you guys when I got home and you weren’t there. And don't apologize I can feel you both getting ready too. I understand unexpected missions happen and that is not your fault. When I realized you were not there I saw your first note on the counter which I love. When you leave me notes by the way but then I made my way to the fridge to get lunch. I had all intentions of eating it but when I sat down to eat it I just couldn’t.” You then go on to explain to them that when you're stressed out and when things get out of your control you lose your appetite.

After you're finished talking, Wanda begins to speak. “We are so sorry you had to go through that alone, but as long as we're your girlfriends you won’t ever again have to. Maybe we can talk to Bruce and find you some new coping skills to cope with the stress.” She says “Yeah, what do you think about that sweet girl?” Natasha asks you. You look up at them with so much love in your eyes. “I think that’s a great idea, thank you guys,” You said, giving each of them a kiss. “No problem zolotse,” Natasha says with a smile on her face. “How about we get some lunch?” says Wanda. You look up at them with a small bit of fear on your face having not eaten in 2 weeks you were scared of how your stomach would react. “Don't worry love, we’ll be right here with you.” You hear Wanda say. With that, you all start to make your way to your floor to enjoy lunch. With you thinking that no matter how stressed you got you will always have your girlfriends to make it better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Feedback welcomed and very much appreciated!!

[johnwickb1tsch]

andar conmigo ~ part 13

Walk in the Clouds/Don John crossover outline/fic- Paul Sutton x fem!Reader x Don John triangle ~ You grow up at Las Nubes vineyard, and have to go home to your dying father. You take your fake new husband, Sgt Paul Sutton, with you...Your old flame don John does not like this at all. Warnings: misogyny. Violence. Villain shit. punishment!  i hate spoiling with warnings, but if violence against women triggers you do NOT read this!!!   chapter map

A ningún hombre consiento Que dicte mi sentencia Sólo Dios puede juzgarme… [I consent to no man dictating my sentence, for only God may judge me] -Rosalía, A ningún hombre

The more time goes on, the more certain you are that there is no way Juan will keep his word. Anything could be happening to Paul. You have plenty of time to think about it, your wrists bound behind your back, and your ankles too, laying on the floor of the fiend’s bedroom. 

It is full dark, by the time Juan joins you, smug as the cat who drank all the cream. Though the hacienda is wired for electricity, he favors lighting the tapers in a silver candelabra on a table, maybe so you cannot so clearly see the side of his face sporting quite the eggplant purple bruise. His lip is split, and you notice he moves stiffly. You take some satisfaction in knowing Paul gave him a good thrashing–for all the good it did the two of you.

“Y/n, y/n, y/n. You brought this upon yourself, you know. Why must you always do things the hard way?” 

You reply with a bad word, which despite your gag he seems to interpret correctly. It just makes him laugh, a terrible sound filled with dark promise. He crosses the room to you slowly, his heels clicking on the wood floors, his dress spurs jangling. It gives you a good look from the vantage point of the rug at his extravagantly tooled boots, their pointed silver tips gleaming threateningly at your eye level.

Your eyes travel higher, up the long expanse of his lean legs, to a leather riding crop resting lightly against his thigh. The sight of it fills you with a cold dread; against your will, a fine trembling begins in your bones. 

He tilts his head, looking upon you like a painting in a museum he appreciates. “So beautiful. My spirited little y/n.” He lifts the hem of your skirt slightly with the tip of the crop. You try to squirm away, but all you can do in this state really is wriggle like a furious little worm. It makes him smile cruelly down at you, the candlelight glinting in his pit-black eyes like the fires of hell. 

“You know…my father used to say no horse is unbreakable. You just must find the right balance, between the carrot and the stick. I tried to offer you the carrot, y/n. You cannot say I didn’t try.” 

Considering how his father died…you’re not sure he gave the best advice on horses–or women.

You answer with yet another expletive, and your captor rolls his eyes at you. Maybe it’s less fun for him when you can’t talk back intelligibly, for he reaches down to loosen the cloth in your mouth. “Everyone is still at the fiesta. There’s no one here to hear you scream,” he informs you. His hands are deceptively gentle, as he touches your bruised cheek. 

“Borrachio hit me.”

“Well, I’m sure you were asking for it.”   

That is the essential distillation of all this. Women do as they’re told–or they get what’s coming to them. Tears sting the corners of your eyes. To think, you were so close to making it to freedom. You should have taken Paul and ran back to San Francisco after your father died–but you never really dreamed Juan would take things this far. 

“You cannot do this, Juan.” 

“I can’t?” his obsidian eyes shine with sharp amusement for you. 

“Even if Paul isn’t my husband–that does not make you my master!” 

He chuckles darkly at this. “So finally, you admit it.” 

“I admit nothing.” 

“Hmm. Still lying to me, I see. I won’t have that, y/n.” 

With the tip of the crop he flips your skirts up to your waist, leaving you bare but for the thin cotton of your panties. “No!” you protest, but of course he ignores you, tracing the leather ever so lightly over the backs of your thighs with a wistful sigh. Your skin quivers at his touch, and you’ve never felt so helpless as in that moment. 

With the rough nap of the carpet pressing into your cheek you start to cry quietly. You cry for yourself, and you cry for Paul, who survived so much just to be locked up in a cell in a tiny town in Napa county, probably being beaten by Juan’s paid men, because he had the unfortunate luck of meeting you on a bus.

Juan ignores you, staring down at your prone form with a voracious triumph in his gaze. 

“I must admit, it would be a shame to scar up that magnificent culo.” 

In a sudden, violent feat of strength he rips open the back of your dress, leaving your shoulders bare. 

You know what he’s going to do, and you can’t stop yourself from crying harder. 

“Who do you belong to, y/n?” His voice is smooth as silk, the very definition of deceptive temptation. It's not a trap you'll ever fall into again.

You know what the punishment will be, but some damnable thing inside you will not allow you to relent just yet. “Vete al diablo.” Go to hell. 

The first strike across your shoulders is crisp and perfect and stings like fire. 

More tears spill from your eyes, but you grit your teeth, snarling into the floor like a wild woodland animal. 

He soothes you after with a gentle caress of the leather down your spine that makes you quiver. 

“Who?” 

“Not you.” 

Again, he strikes, and it hurts even more the second time. You taste the burn of bile in the back of your throat. You hope this rug was expensive–you’re going to bleed and throw up on it. 

“Who?” 

“Paul Sutton.” 

You speak your truth, because you realize you don’t really expect to make it out of this alive–and his name lives on your lips like your favorite prayer. He fills your heart, your bones, your every cell. You love that man, and even if you never got to tell him…this is the only way left to you, to honor him. 

You lose track of how many times Juan hits you after that, the flayed skin of your back become one fiery expanse of excruciating pain. You do break then, weeping into the rug beneath you, screaming until your throat is raw.   

“Puta estupida. I would have given you everything!” Juan snarls, and you can’t help but think to yourself that you have broken him. His sanity, at least, and you cry out as he hauls you up by your hair, slinging you unceremoniously over the heavy wood table. “I love you, and this is how you repay me?” 

You do not know where you get the wherewithal, to laugh bitterly as he fists your ruffled skirts, hiking them above your waist once more. “This is not love,” you say through the sand in your throat to the hard wood beneath your cheek. “And I will hate you until the day I die.” 

“Hate me, love me.” He wrenches your panties down your hips, leaving you bare to the world, exposed to his harsh hands and whatever else he intends to give you. “Either way, you will be mine.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Exactly. I will lock you up and breed you here until your belly is swollen heavy with my child. See how far you run away then.”

“I would rather die!” you snarl, struggling fruitlessly to get away. 

He just laughs, smacking your ass with his big hand before pinning you into the edge of the table with his powerful thighs. You feel him working himself behind you, the tinkling of silver as he unbuckles his belt, the jerking motions of eagerly undoing buttons.  

It’s as though your focus narrows to a pinpoint, as you look at the papers upon his desk in front of you, a golden pen, and the ornate base of the candelabra. The thought you’ve had so many times throughout your life echoes through your brain: All it takes is one good fire…

With the last of your strength you lash out with your body, your head knocking the candles towards the window–and the fine brocade draperies that hang from the ceiling to the floor. You watch with fascination as the little flames touch the old fabric–and erupt as they climb in a column of fire. 

With his cock in his hand Juan watches this transpire, frozen with horror. “What have you done?”

He rushes to try to beat out the flames, but somehow just makes it worse.

The flames have spread from the drapes to the ancient wood wainscoting, the oil paintings, the wooden furniture, and the beams in the ceiling. The heat is utterly unbearable, and soon you are surrounded by a circle of fire, all that wealth and heritage Juan is so proud of going up in flames. 

“You stupid, stupid whore!” He grabs your hair, smacking your head against the desk, leaving you to senselessly slide to the floor from the table. “You’d rather die? Then have your wish.” 

He dashes for the door, leaving you to burn in this circle of Hell of your own making. 

—-----------

*full credit to @treedaddymcpuffpuff for the angry caterpillar reference! *fire divider by animatedglittergraphics **culo - ass ***puta estupida - stupid whore

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

I’ve been on a bit of a walking dead kick recently and fell in love with your writing. I was wondering if you would do a fluffy Daryl x reader. Where reader has been part of the group from the start and is super outgoing but is almost always with Daryl. They do everything together and he’s trying to work up the nerve to confess (maybe around Alexandria). Then one day she goes “how come you never kiss me?” And he’s so confused and she’s all like I mean we’re dating aren’t we? Could be a cute idea?

A Long Time Coming

Daryl Dixon x plus size reader

Daryl has loved you since the beginning; with all your softness and beauty, you always felt unobtainable to the hunter but as it turns out, he had nothing to worry about, because you were already his all along

Warnings: A big old load of fluff, Daryl’s usual angst and he’s a little dumb (is that news to anyone), implied smut

WC: 1.3k

Minors DNI

Spring hit Alexandria hard. Flowers popped up everywhere and it seemed that the forest around the township was coming back to life. But for Daryl, that meant he had to get back to work.

The sun was just barely over the horizon as the hunter quietly slipped from his home, crossbow slung over his shoulder. By his count, the scant deer population should be returning to Virginia about now and their meat stores have run dangerously low by the winter months.

He did like the silence of the early morning though. Everything was still and if Daryl closed his eyes and concentrated hard enough, he could pretend that the world was back to normal and he had just woken up from a fucked up nightmare. 

The houses around him were still dark as he walked the main road towards the gate. Well, all except one. He knew that he shouldn’t bother you, you were probably asleep on your couch again. But he really just wanted to walk in and take you into his arms and fall back to sleep with you.

It was a habit he had developed long before they found safety behind Alexandria’s walls. He was the natural protector of the group even if it was a reluctant roll at first, but he had always had this urge to constantly make sure that you were safe. If he couldn’t see you, his stomach would drop and his veins fill with dread as he imagined the terrible things that might have happened to you. Yet as soon as you would trot back into his line of sight, all of that fear was washed away in an instant. 

Daryl knew what he felt was love during one night at the prison. He had been on night watch in one of the guard towers when you sleepily stumbled into the room, blanket wrapped around your shoulders, a pillow tucked under your arm and only one of your feet had a sock on it. Without any words, you plopped down next to him and cuddled into his broad shoulder before falling asleep.

You were his sunshine and he would do everything in his power to keep it that way, even if that meant hiding his feelings for you. In Daryl’s mind, there was absolutely no way that you would want him, he was far too broken, far too old. But still he yearned.

With dragging feet, he continued to walk past your home. He kept his head down, his greasy hair which was long overdue for a haircut falling over his eyes as if the dark strands could shield him from the ache in his chest that he always seemed to get when he thought of you. 

Abraham opened the gate for him without a word and Daryl slipped quietly into the wilderness, determined to run from his feelings, at least for a while.

——————

“Daryl Dixon you are a god!” Your squeal broke said man from his daze. The cigarette he had been smoking was now mostly ash and hung precariously between his thick fingers. You stood below him on the street, looking up at him as he sat on his porch.

“What’d I do now?” He answered sharply, eyes darting away from you since you had decided that today was the day you would wear the most distracting outfit in the world (one of his flannels and tight jeans). 

Your smile somehow got even brighter and you took that as your cue to skip your way up the steps to his home and plop down beside him on the small bench. Heat exploded all over Daryl’s body as your thick thigh pressed against the side of his leg. Your arms wound around his bicep so you could prop your chin up on the hard muscle. 

“You brought home the biggest buck I’ve ever seen! And now we all get to be well fed for a good while. You’re my hero.” You cooed. Daryl felt his brain short-circuit and, he hated to admit it, his pants tighten at the sight of your gorgeous eyes fixated on his face as you called him your hero.

Clearing his throat, he spoke with a slightly shaken voice. “It was nothin. Jus doin ma job.” You tutted and gave him a stern look while squeezing his upper arm.

“Stop it. You did good today, just like everyday. You deserve some celebration for all the amazing things you do for us, for me.” And his heart stopped. The way you held onto him, the way you looked at him, the way you spoke to him, it was all too much. The urge to confess to you how he truly felt was becoming an overwhelming need. It grew like a wave, slowly getting larger and larger until it was like a tsunami.

Your gaze softened as you looked up at the hunter. The wave was beginning to crest. A hand unwrapped itself from his bicep and was placed firmly on his chest, right above his heart. “Daryl?”

His words were caught in his throat, he couldn’t answer you so he nodded instead. You took a deep breath before speaking again. “Why don’t you ever kiss me?”

The wave broke, shattering against the shoreline of his heart. “What?” It came out as more of an exhale than words but obviously you understood him because your fingers curled into his shirt and you looked away as if ashamed.

“Well, we’ve been together for such a long time and you’ve never even tried to kiss me or initiate physical contact. And I know you don’t really like touching people but you always let me hug you and hold your hand. So I was wondering why you have never kissed me.” You spoke quickly in an almost panicked manner, the words falling from your lips in a torrent.

Daryl was frozen. “We-we’re together?” Your head tilted cutely as you regarded him.

“Yes? Daryl, we’ve been together since the farm. Remember, I told you that I loved you after you got shot and then I held you all night.” The memory slapped him in the face. You were right, that did happen but evidently, he forgot because of the copious amount of pain medication he had been on at the time.

“Fuck.” He growled. There was only a moment of hesitation as the air between you went still. His eyes dropped to your lips, then traveled back up to meet your gaze and then he kissed you. 

Your lips were softer than he had ever imagined. They tasted faintly of your homegrown tea and honey you farmed yourself. With his free hand, he cupped your soft jaw, his thumb brushing against your full cheek. His body was alight with electricity and a little bit of self-deprecation. How could he have forgotten you proclaiming your love for him?

He could kiss you forever but soon enough, you pulled back slightly so you could catch your breath. But Daryl needed to keep touching you. His own lips travelled down the length of your throat to the base of your neck. “D-Daryl.” You clutched at him.

He didn’t stop, he couldn’t stop, not now, not when he finally has you in his arms. 

“Jesus! Get a room!” You shot apart, startled by the sudden voice. Carl had his arms crossed as he glared at you both, a stern look on his face. “Nobody wants to see that.” He spat.

You rolled your eyes while you stood, pulling Daryl to his feet beside you. “Maybe we will.” You stuck your tongue out at the teen and he responded likewise as you walked away and into Daryl’s home. 

“We will?” The hunter asked quietly. You looked back at him from over your shoulder with a smoldering look.

“It’s been a long time coming, Dixon.” Daryl tripped over his own feet as you led him back to his room.

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[galactic-magick]

You’re Not Scary, Johnny: The Spot x Reader

Summary: What if Spot’s family didn’t leave him after the accident? In other words, Jonathan had a spouse and baby daughter and goes to see them for the first time since becoming The Spot.

Words: 1.8k+

Warnings: Some swearing and vague mentions of suicidal thoughts

Author’s Notes: The baby daughter is not specified to be biological or adopted bc I wanted to keep the reader gender-neutral! Also thanks to Julia from The Spot discord server I’m in for suggesting the name Dottie! (haha get it like spot and dot)

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-

-

Jonathan wasn’t one to immediately give up on anything.

After all, he was one of the top scientists working on Alchemax’s toughest project, full of initial failures and screw-ups. He had numerous opportunities to quit during his lengthy years of schooling and career, but he never did. He was always incredibly self-driven, and having a family in edition to that motivated him to succeed even more. He married you—the most wonderful person in the universe to him, and had a beautiful daughter named Dottie he couldn’t wait to raise with you.

That is, until he woke up on the Alchemax floor that dreadful day, surrounded by debris from the destroyed collider.

He remembers seeing his hands first, ghost white with a couple black spots on each. But they weren’t like a bruise or mole that stayed it place—they were fluctuating and pulsing like dark matter. Convinced he was just seeing things, he tried to rub his eyes, only to feel nothing and instead see his fingers come out through a hole on his leg.

He screamed in terror, pushing his gangly body off the ground and stumbling towards the nearest reflective surface he could find.

“No, no, no-” his voice shook, looking at himself for the first time.

He turns away, too horrified to look any longer. He couldn’t go home to you like this, let alone live any sort of life at all like this. He scans his gaze over the rubble, running to the first intact thing he sees. “I can- I can fix this. There has to be a way to fix this!”

Jonathan wasn’t one to immediately give up on anything.

He got to work searching for anything salvageable from the labs and collider, theorizing and writing equations and running tests for weeks, not that he realized it had been that long. His mind bordered on madness, obsessing over every single detail that could possibly fix him.

“I have to fix this, I have to fix this…” he muttered to himself over and over, voice cracking. Every test and experiment failed day after day, nothing worked. He didn’t want to give up, but maybe this was something not even his genius intellect could fix.

Jonathan wasn’t one to immediately give up on anything—but now he had to.

He slumped onto the floor, wailing into the void of the abandoned building. He screamed and cried as much as he could without having tears, begging to anyone who could hear to be put out of his misery.

His face fell to his hands, or at least what was left of one. His thoughts returned to you, with your sweet eyes and smile he adored so much and the heartwarming memories you’ve shared over the years. You’re his everything, his other half, and everything he’s ever wanted. He thought about holding your daughter for the first time, wanting to give her the world and more.

He couldn’t go back to you like this. He couldn’t even look at himself, so why would you? His daughter would surely be afraid of him and he’d lose everyone he loved in an instant. He couldn’t put himself through that, he just couldn’t. You probably think he’s already dead, might as well let you remember him as he was.

-

You never thought you’d have to deal with being a single parent. You and Jonathan have an incredibly healthy relationship and marriage, so you figured you’d be together forever. You never thought you’d have the unthinkable happen to you, having to go on after the death of a husband.

Each day gets harder and harder, and everything that was fine or even good before becomes a struggle. You know pretty soon your emergency savings will run out and paying rent will be a problem, and you’ll have to start picking up overtime at work and have to spend less time with the baby. You’re more alone than you’ve ever been in your life, and you still don’t even know for sure what happened.

No one dares stand up to Alchemax, not even after a disaster like this. You had asked Jonathan multiple times to consider somewhere better to work, but he assured you it was the only place he could do the full extent of his work, which you understood. Still, if he had left this wouldn’t have happened to him.

He wouldn’t be dead.

All you want to know is how he died. Was it painful? Was it quick? Was it peaceful?

Every night you lie awake, the questions racing through your mind. Most days you’re thankful that Dottie is not a fussy baby, but sometimes you wish she was so you’d at least have something to distract you.

-

It’s been a few months since the accident, and Jonathan is still crippled with fear. He refuses to look at himself, covering himself with layers of clothing to get around the city and avoid seeing his own skin. He tries to keep ignoring the voice in the back of his mind telling him to go home, muffling it with the anxiety of being seen by the one person  who could completely shatter his soul.

But if he did go to see you, at least he’d finally know. He wouldn’t be left wondering his whole life what you’d say and how you’d react. He might not have the both literal and metaphorical hole in his heart aching for closure forever.

He knows you’re usually home by the hour, the baby probably down for a nap while you have some free-time. He approaches the door of your shared apartment, hand hovering next to the door. He knocks quietly, and hears you shuffling towards it.

“Who is it?” your voice is like honey, and his heart wrenches.

“Please don’t—please don’t freak out, okay darling? It’s Jonathan,”

The door swings open faster than he thought possible, and you fling yourself into him.

“Holy shit I thought you were dead, I-” you sob into his chest, your tears blurring your vision enough that you can’t see him clearly. “They said—they said everyone in the building died from that explosion-”

You pull away slightly, looking him up and down.

“Why do you have so many layers on? It’s super warm out,” you reach up to pull off the mask and glasses over his face, but he stops you.

“There’s something you need to know before you do that,” he says. “I survived, yes, but not without enormous cost. The explosion left me severely deformed,”

You try to fight his grip on your hand, attempting to reach up again, “Johnny, you know I will still love you no matter what. Please just let me see you-”

“No.”

A wave of deep concern washes over your features, “What happened?”

“I-I tried to fix it, but it can’t be fixed. I’m a monster now, I don’t even look human anymore. Somehow my body fused with a black hole I was carrying during the explosion, and now that’s all I am...just holes,”

You do your best to take in and process his words, but you know you won’t truly understand until you see it for yourself.

“I’m going to look at you, okay?” you tell him sternly.

He sighs in surrender, awaiting the inevitable. You start by taking off his gloves, interlocking your fingers with his white ones. He hums at your touch.

“I’m still here, Johnny,” you assure him. Next you unzip and slip off his jacket, revealing his torso and arms covered in black spots. It’s certainly strange, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t, but it doesn’t scare you. The spots look like splotches on an artistic painting, and you already love them.

You decide to wait to take off his pants and shoes, and instead bring your hands to his head. You remove his hat, smoothing your palms over his completely white and bald head. Of course you loved his gorgeous hair before, but you’ll get used to this.

You hesitate your fingers around his face, waiting for a sign of approval.

Jonathan nods, but he grabs your hands once again, “Darling, I literally don’t have a face anymore. You’re not going to see what you want to see,”

“I don’t care. I want you no matter what,”

You rip off his mask and glasses in one go, met with a deep black hole staring back at you.

He sighs again, turning away from your gaze, “I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore. You don’t deserve a life married to someone like me,”

“Johnathan,” you scold him. “When I married you I promised to love you no matter what. For better and for worse and all that shit, okay? Sure this will be an adjustment, but I want to adjust with you. I’m just happy you’re alive,”

You watch as his face spot fluctuates in size and shape, and you decide to interpret that as his new way of expressing emotions. You appear to be right, because he quickly pulls you into a tight embrace and whimpers into your shoulder.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he mumbles, his body shaking as he holds you closer and closer, to the point you feel yourself going through a couple of his spots. “But what about Dottie? She’ll cry every time she sees me,”

“You don’t know that,” you say, rubbing his back, tracing your fingers around one of his spots. “Her first word was ‘Dada’ you know. I talked about you a lot to her while you were gone,”

“Really?”

“Mmhm. She can crawl now too. I’ll go get her from her crib, this is usually around the time she wakes up anyway,”

Jonathan slowly releases his grip as you slip out of his arms, bracing himself for whatever might happen. He looks like something from a horror movie, of course she’s going to be afraid. He may have lucked out with you wanting to stay with him, but there’s no promises his daughter will feel the same.

You come out of the bedroom holding her, a bit bigger than the last time he saw her. You place her gently on the floor so she can crawl around, and she doesn’t even seem to notice Jonathan at first, more interested in the toy next to her. She grabs it and sits upright, and then finally sees him.

To Jonathan’s surprise, she doesn’t seem phased by his appearance. She simply cocks her head slightly to the side and stares at him.

“Dada!” she finally babbles, giggling to herself.

“She...she recognizes me?” he asks, in awe of her cute little face.

She continues to giggle, repeating his name over and over. She rolls forward onto her hands and starts crawling towards him, grabbing onto his leg. Jonathan leans down to pick her up, and she flails around happily, settling into his arms and poking her hands into his holes on his face and chest.

“How is she not scared of me?” he says, completely dumbfounded.

“Because you’re not scary, Johnny,” you smile, wrapping your arms around the two of them and kissing his cheek. “You’re family. Spots or not,”

Dottie squeals as if in agreement.

“I suppose so,” he hums, resting his head on top of yours.

Jonathan would never give this up for anything.

[dionysism]

okay i was yapping on priv twitter but you guys seem to enjoy my ramblings on here as i seem to be told so let me actually yap to all of you instead

i'm clawing at the walls of my enclosure over symbolism in the iliad like it's so delightful i want to yap about patroclus more but also hector.

going back to patroclus as the canary in the coal mine it's just so. the thing with the iliad is you know how Over it is from the very beginning. the iliad does not really consist of surprises, more things you know are going to happen but theres this small shred of hope that lets you go "well, maybe, just maybe not" and then it still does. every time. so this sense of "it's so over for troy" is actually always present. even when they have the upper hand & are about to burn the greek fleet it's present. but there is never, in the entire epic poem, to me, a stronger sense of dread and "oh my god its actually Really so Fucking Over" than when patroclus' body hits the ground. it's the killer of that last shred of hope homer has let you just barely have so far that maybe juuuust maybe it won't turn out this way. maybe fate can be changed. patroclus' death is the confirmation it cannot. and like yes technically the trojan horse is what Won it in the end & achilles was dead by then too but they would have never gotten that far had achilles not rejoined the battle and dealt so much damage & killed hector. and nothing but the death of patroclus would have made him do so. first, the canary has to die. and not only does this tell you many sons of troy, including hector, and ultimately the city itself, will follow him in death, but so will achilles.

and hector. goddd hector as not only a symbol of troy's only hope but also he is a trojan horse in his own way, by the end of the poem, which is something emily wilson said in her introduction. to quote her, "horse-lord hector is himself a trojan horse: he comes from the greek camp, enters the city, and foreshadows the end." which is like GODDDD you know i'm pulling my hair out. because he too, like patroclus, foreshadows the death of troy by dying himself. and death begets death begets death and it kind of never ends a daughter had to die to get here, an infant son must die before we leave again and on and on it goes. but anyway. you get it

[estherdedlock]

There’s a delicious theory going around that the Greek class wasn’t responsible for Harry McRee’s death...which of course, would render everything that happened afterwards all the more dreadful. I’ve been turning this over in my head and I’ve cooked up two different scenarios.

First, let’s recall what Henry remembers:

I heard something behind me, or someone, and I wheeled around...and swung at whatever it was---a large, indistinct, yellow thing---with my closed fist...I felt a terrible pain in my knuckles and then, almost instantly, something knocked the breath right out of me. It was dark, you understand; I couldn’t really see. I swung out again with my right, hard as I could and with all my weight behind it, and this time I heard a loud crack and a scream...I looked down at my hand and saw it was covered with blood, and worse than blood. Then Charles stepped forward and saw that it was a man. He was dead...He had on a yellow plaid shirt...and his neck was broken, and, unpleasant to say, his brains were all over his face.

Henry goes on to recount that Charles and Francis all remember different things, and Camilla seemingly has no memory of what happened at all, although her hair is drenched in blood.

Scenario 1: McRee Was Killed by Someone Else We’re told (via the Hampden Examiner) that McRee had “several  enemies” among the local poultry farmers, so it’s possible he may have been attacked by one of them. Maybe McRee survived the assault but was stumbling around his property, mortally wounded, when he had the misfortune to run into the Greek class and they inadvertently finished him off. The Examiner described McRee’s body as badly “mutilated,” so whatever the Greek class did to him would have covered up the real murder. Regardless, the Greek kids would still have been responsible for McRee’s death. If you run into someone who’s been the victim of a brutal crime, your responsibility is to help them, not finish beating them to death. All the same, it’s fascinating to speculate that McRee’s death was part of a whole different cycle of violence that had nothing to do with Henry et al, but in which fate ensnared them and triggered a whole new, pre-ordained cycle of violence. Or, to quote Aeschylus in the Oresteia: “Where will this frenzy of evil end?”

Scenario 2: McRee Was Killed by Something Else The group claims to recall the presence of a fifth person that night, but no one can say who it was. What if it wasn’t a  person, but a large wild animal, specifically, a mountain lion...a catamount? An animal that big could very well feel like another person in the dark, especially to a bunch of kids who were out of their minds. Supporting this theory is the very deep bite that Charles suffers that night, which is referred to several times with awe by the rest of the group. “Four inches around and the teeth marks just gouged in,” says Francis. “Looks like that deer took a plug out of your arm,” says Bunny. Would a wildcat take a chunk out of someone without killing them? Possibly. Might the same wildcat get frightened away by something, but then come across another human later and attack them? Perhaps a poultry farmer out on his property for a midnight stroll?

Henry says he saw a “large, indistinct yellow thing,” and then “something knocked the breath right out of me.” We jump to the conclusion the “yellow thing” must have been McRee’s flannel shirt, because Henry tells us that’s what McRee was wearing. But a large, tawny mountain lion might also look yellow in the moonlight. Henry never says that he felt a person hit him. The “something” that “knocked the breath” out of Henry could very well have been the animal taking off into the woods...after mauling McRee to death.

In this scenario, McRee would have already been dead when Henry stumbled into the scene. The “loud crack and a scream” that Henry heard could have been anything -- maybe Henry actually punched the lion and drove it off. What follows next, though, is pretty indisputable: The kids set about mutilating McCree’s body. There’s a vast difference between desecrating a corpse and murdering someone, but unfortunately, it hardly matters to the outcome. Tearing into McRee’s body would have destroyed evidence of a wild animal attack, leaving the group as the apparent killers. Without any clear memory of what really happened that night, the kids believe themselves guilty, so what they do to Bunny is inevitable...but all the more tragic if they never actually killed McCree themselves.

A seemingly unimportant incident occurs near the end of the book:

We were rounding a corner. Suddenly, in the wash of the headlights, a large animal loomed in my path. I hit the brakes hard. For half a moment I found myself looking through the windshield at a pair of glowing eyes. Then, in a flash, it bounded away.   We sat for a moment, shaken, at full stop.   “What was that?” said Francis.   “I don’t know. A deer maybe.”   “That wasn’t a deer.”   “Then a dog.”   “It looked like some kind of a cat to me.”   Actually, that was what it had looked like to me too. “But it was too big,” I said.   “Maybe it was a cougar or something.”   “They don’t have those around here.”   “They used to. They called them catamounts. Cat-o-the-Mountain. Like Catamount Street in town.”   The night breeze was chilly. A dog barked somewhere. There wasn’t much traffic on that road at night.   I put the car in gear.

So...what is this? A random bit of eerie atmospherics from Ms. Tartt? I don’t know. There seems to be very little in TSH that is random.

Perhaps she is, in fact, slyly pointing us in the direction of McCree’s real killer. Telling us, with hint after maddening hint, that even though the eventual outcome of that night in the woods would have been no different, fate is all the more cruel because the murder, which was a catalyst for everything that happened afterwards, was never even a murder at all.

[taegularities]

Riiiiiiid can i have a teeny tiny request when/if you can answer this. When oc was missing, what was going through jk’s head? Like did he thought she left him, got kidnapped by her parents, got into an accident, etc? Just wondering what’s fuelling his fear. Amazing lovely chapter! Srsly chefs kiss 🙌🏻

genre: est. rel. 🥺 fluff, angst wc: 1.3k 🤭 a/n: this turned into a legit drabble LMAO i'd be over the moon if you guys lmk what you think of this lil mess and whether i did a good job? :] not proofread <3

–

if jungkook had the power to undo this, what would he do differently?

hours ago, when you left the apartment.

perhaps he'd handle you with caution. realise that his fret means nothing, and that nobody else defines your relationship but him and you.

maybe he would let you know that he's stuck to you like superglue, no matter what. that he goes insane when you don't show signs of life. and that you're stitched into all crevices of his heart, permanently.

perhaps reacting in such a way could've changed the chain of events today. whatever happened, maybe you could've reached out, rushed to him. instead, you were hidden in a bathroom minutes ago, door locked and a barrier between the two of you.

even now, your mind roams in far distance. waiting for a line to appear or not; and the approaching result fills him with fear. not because he in particular dreads it – but because you do. sniffling, drying your tears, shaking.

jungkook isn't stupid, so he won't tell you how you affect him. how your pain becomes his burden, too, and how he wants the moment to pass, so your tremble stops.

life didn't pain you enough, it seems. something or someone in the skies above is being unfair.

it hurts. it hurts. it fucking hurts.

and on top of everything, jungkook's own ache, courtesy of his overthinking, still lingers. how he wondered if you'd left him. or hoping you weren't hurt. praying that you were unscathed, not a victim of the world's carelessness.

he can't tell you, though. and he doesn't.

not when the minutes pass and jokes are exchanged. not when you explain why you never came home. and not when only one line appears, pushing you into another sobfest that only his arms heal, slowly and carefully. bit by bit.

you're so warm against him. so innocent and relieved, seeking a cure in him to diminish the former pain. you hold onto him so tight, quivering more than ever, crying tear after tear after tear.

jungkook doesn't think he's ever felt such a firm, solid crack splitting his heart. because you don't deserve this.

you're his gentle, enthusiastic girl, aren't you? thrilled about countryside weddings and glued-on stars. you do not deserve this.

your transparent emotions punch him in the guts even when you've bid eun goodbye. and the very next moment, as he comes to a stand in front of the entrance, stalling the drive back home, he feels something stir in him, too.

the same as before when you opened the bathroom door. the same intense yearning clogging up his throat. because when he looks at you now…

tear-stained cheeks. red eyes. yet, a soft smile assuring him that you're okay again…

he knows now. he knows.

"angel..." he voices, and you lift your falling eyelids, endless tenderness in your gaze.

his heart combusts. nervous fear fills his entire being, so worried you might walk away or cry again or be scared off or… or…

tell her.

she might know anyway.

the voice keeps urging him. wants to bare his thoughts, pull them out of his mind.

tell her.

but he doesn't. instead, he calms the brittle organ beneath his chest, eyes blinking his secrets away before he says, "nothing. let's go home."

and he admits now. barely half an hour later, he admits that his choices aren't always well thought out. because how did he manage to pain you again?

crying in front of him, in the middle of the living room, much like… what? a mere month ago. asking him what's wrong; getting back a confused nothing.

he covers his face when you inquire whether he's sure, rubbing it before he responds, "yeah. tired, is all. worn out from the stress."

"i'm sorry."

god. no.

there's no fault in anyone right now. there's no misery, just… realisations. revelations.

"no," he starts, "it's okay."

you swallow, and then argue, "i don't think it is. tell me what you're thinking about."

but how does he tell you? because his words wouldn't suffice. and he doesn't quite know whether the moment's right. how does he unveil something to you that'll never do justice to what he truly feels?

"nothing, baby," he answers; he's being so stupid, "please go to sleep."

but you don't falter. "is it because of the pregnancy scare? or because i didn't call you. i scared you."

"no. it's nothing like that."

he waits.

fuck… he could throw up. you're here, so close, waiting for a response, and he's panicking, nervous, insecure, and… and…

so in fucking love.

"just go change into something comfortable, angel," jungkook gently orders, fuelling the craze in his jumbled mind, "or do you want to eat first? i can get you some food to the bedroom, too."

you shake your head, digging, "i want– you to tell me what's wrong."

but it's not easy. wording feelings has never been easy.

he groans quietly, keeping his foot from tapping the ground. if he told you now… would you react in kind? would you walk away? if he told you now, would you push him away or pull him closer?

shit, shit, shit.

his head falls between his shoulders, fingers grazing his wrinkled forehead, heaviness behind it, "what do i tell you?"

"just. was it… is it seokjin? i won't talk to him if you don't want me to."

god, if you knew…

that seokjin long took a backseat in his head. he would've barely been able to remember his name right now, because his mind is so painfully filled with the same damn things revolving around you.

with the same word, over and over again, repeating in a circle and as a plea.

"that's not it," he promises.

"it's not…?"

"babe… i don't care about him. i stopped caring ten minutes later."

he explains the agitation this morning; explains the far graver evening, how it overshadowed each word uttered in that stupid argument. how you drove him crazy today.

fearing, craving, pining.

wondering if you'd be coming back, if he'd ever get the chance to tell you that you carry his heart with you wherever you go.

and maybe that's exactly what he should do.

right.

enough of this idiocy.

he stands, stepping closer. his voice is unsteady when he calls your name, shaking fingers carding through his hair. he sighs, and then inhales a breath to give his lungs something. to lift the burn.

jungkook prepares his mind for the best and the worst for only a moment before everything goes blank. and then, finally, he realises that, first and foremost, he doesn't need an immediate reaction.

he just needs you to know.

"what is it then?" you still question, tears falling freely, "fuck, just. just say it, please."

your hand curls into a fist, and he rushes to grab your wrist; tugs you into him, a palm on your back. pushing you closer, trying to press his affection into you, and all misery out of you.

he holds your head, holds you right there, lets you cry into his shirt.

and then, he admits, "i'm not good with words, baby. and i don't know how to ever properly verbalise something like this."

"what? verbalise wh–"

then again, does he not know?

no. he does. he just doesn't think it'll ever suffice. ever.

because what he feels doesn't belong to this mundane world. it isn't ordinary; transcends normalcy. no, to him, it appears like something out of a fairytale.

this is what songs are written about; what love stories and novels and movies speak of. the exact rhymes present in poetry. jungkook doesn't have the vocabulary that poets possess.

can't truly explain what you elicit, and what you mean to him, and how insane you make him, and how he wants to hold you and freeze this moment forever, and…

and how he's never been as certain about anything as about–

"i love you."

no… he doesn't need you to answer immediately.

he just needs you to finally know.

–

:'''))))) i have nothing to say except. thank you for this lil request. i am in tears and will go hide in the bathroom now. <3

[avelera]

On the Study of Miracles

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Character: Gale, gender-neutral Tav, pre-Gale/Tav

Word count: 1,635

Author Note: Just a little something that's been plaguing my brain since my first play-through. Somewhat envisioned as part of a series from each Companion's POV, we'll see how far it goes. Posting the rough here until I decide what to do with it.

Summary: The day before the Nautiloid abducted him was the worst day of Gale's life. Not the day of. The day before. How does one even explain that to any sane person?

--

Yesterday was the worst day of Gale’s life. 

Not the bit with the tadpoles and the sudden abduction-by-teleportation, no. Not the part where he woke up in a claustrophobic pod and pressed his hands to the glass, looking about wildly as his all-too educated brain already knew what his stomach did not yet want to admit: that he was on a mindflayer ship and his gruesome end, from that point, was all but a certainty.

No. 

All of that happened after midnight, in Waterdhavian time. So he still considered that today. It’s important to be precise about such things. 

No, the worst day of his life was yesterday, sitting alone in his tower in Waterdeep, with Tara out fetching him another magical item to consume in the hopeless hope of staving off the inevitable just a little longer. Just until a cure could be found. Just until a miracle occurred. He’d loved a goddess, once, and a part of him deep down would never cease to. It’s just the sort of person he was. More importantly, she’d loved him, as much as any god can love what is mortal. Perhaps that was more or perhaps less than how much mortals could love other mortals.

Anyway. The point was, he’d been waiting for a miracle, and as the painfully-former lover of a goddess, he knew what a miracle looked like. He’d had one once, held her in his arms. And he grimly suspected that, like her, he would never know another miracle. It wasn’t for mortals to get more than one. 

He’d known that with a certainty he viewed at once with grim disillusionment and self-deceptive avoidance. So long as he didn’t think about it too much, he could pretend that there were still years before him rather than months. Weeks. Maybe even days, if Tara came up empty-handed, or empty-pawed, as it were.

He avoided the thought of hi approaching end with all the intellectual power he’d once poured into his studies at Blackstaff, under the fawning tutelage of his instructors, back when he was still a wise and precocious child, a “joy to have in class”, rather than a self-assured and (he could admit it) likely unbearable teenager, or worse, a young man. The lover of a goddess, just for his skill in magic alone. Gods he must have been a nightmare to deal with. Perhaps all of this was deserved, on some level.

Right. But back to yesterday. It wasn’t, strictly speaking, a singular worst day of his life. But they’d all blurred together by then, starting from the moment his new reality had truly sunk in, alone in his tower, when the frenzy of pain and soul-scorching hunger had receded enough for him to look around, sweat-soaked, sickened, and dazed, at his home in Waterdeep all but stripped of the magical artifacts that had glowed and chimed and made beautiful the rooms of his tower. 

His tower that swiftly became his prison. 

Part of the dreadful isolation that followed was his fault. Well, most of it. Turned out, he didn’t really have friends so much as he had colleagues. Colleagues who came ‘round once or twice when he first went missing, but upon being refused, made no further effort to contact Gale, and he could hardly blame them.

Technically there was nothing stopping him from making short social calls, even spending a night out, once he got the hang of how long he could last after each magical item consumed. Technically he didn’t need to be a shut-in with only his tressym for company, once the first firestorm of anguish and grief washed over him and settled into the doldrums of blank horror at how far he’d fallen. 

But that was wicked thing about hope. He had hope that any day, some miracle would descend from on high, Mystra with her forgiveness granted as magically as was her divine domain, and all of this would be some terrible dream. Or he’d stumble upon a cache of magical items enough to put Karsus to shame, enough to live out the rest of his days safely (how he planned to do this while going for days on end without leaving his bedroom didn’t precisely follow logically, he would admit, but then, it was a miracle he was hoping for). 

But to accept miracles was to accept that their opposite could occur. Catastrophes. Terrible streaks of improbable bad luck. One day being the lover of a goddess and the next facing his inevitable, shameful death, for example.

And, for example, he could all too easily picture going out to a party and discovering he’d left his arcane gate keys at home and was therefore stuck surrounded by thousands of civilians while the bomb in his chest counted down inevitably, as occurred in his more memorable and sadly recurring nightmares. If something good could save him, why couldn’t something awful occur just as suddenly to make him a danger to everyone he knew and loved— or at least, whom he marginally liked within a professional setting?

Well, as it turned out, a miracle did occur. It came from the sky, just like the best miracles did. It whisked him away quick as a blink. It took care of all, or rather most of his problems, in one fell swoop, replacing them with incredibly urgent but at least refreshingly different problems, like how to get out of this portal he was stuck in.

And true to his worst nightmares, it had also been a bloody awful catastrophe. Hundreds were dead, though that at least wasn't his fault. Thousands, perhaps millions more would die if they were not successful. It was utterly improbably—insane, in fact!— that he’d fallen in amongst the one group with any real hope of stopping the Absolute’s horrific plan from succeeding. They were, as one with far less education than he might say, in the shit, facing dangers that few but the greatest heroes had ever been forced to contemplate. By all accounts, he should be rocking back and forth in the corner of his tent, gibbering with terror. 

Instead, Gale was smiling. He hadn’t even realized he was smiling until Tav had glanced back and said:

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” 

Tav raised had an eyebrow. It wasn’t even a mean-spirited question. In the early morning hours, after a scrounged-up breakfast of whatever was left over from the camp of those tomb robbers they’d interrupted, it might have been the simple pleasantries he might have experienced from his once politely disinterested colleagues, except…. Tav was sincere. Perhaps faintly amused. The rest of the sentence remained unspoken, the laughter dancing in their eyes that took in all the misfortunes that surrounded their merry band, the Nautiloid, their bare-bones camp, their improbable and still highly doubtful survival. But that was the thing, wasn’t it? Theirs. 

Gale looked around and for the first time in more months than he cared to really think about, he wasn’t surrounded by the warm, wood-paneled walls of his tower. The bookshelves. The feather bed and the balcony with his view of the harbor. All the comforts of home and all the bleak, unbearable solitude of those same walls over and over, day in and day out, as he woke up and stared at his ceiling and sometimes, if Tara wasn’t around, just rolled over and went back to sleep for as long as he could force his body down if it meant not facing another day like this. 

No, he was surrounded by cliffs and forests, dirt paths and the lingering burnt ozone smell of the crashed Nautiloid and the unfortunately building stench of stale blood and unwashed bodies that would only deepen with every mile they walked. He was surrounded by faces, unfamiliar, some friendly, some distrustful, but all of them desperate, all of them pulling together towards the same goal. 

He wasn’t alone. For the first time in so long he wasn’t alone, and awful as it would be to say aloud, the fact that he also wasn’t alone in facing the threat of his own destruction, that each of his companions were in the same spot, working on the same problem was… well. He hadn’t felt this sort of camaraderie since his school days. Perhaps… never. 

Perhaps never. 

Gale snorted, chuckling to himself, and met Tav’s eye. “I rather think you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

The corner of Tav’s lips twitched upward. “Try me.” 

Gale regarded his friend, his savior, the hand that had reached out to his while he hung suspended in a void of nothingness, after so long in a far more comfortable, far more terrible void of solitude, and thought about miracles. And how accepting the good ones could happen also meant accepting the bad ones. Or perhaps they were just two sides of the same coin.

Perhaps he was not so abandoned by all the gods as he thought, to be here, on the other side of his tower walls, on the other side of sanity, on the other side facing down almost inevitable doom. Maybe the key to a miracle was knowing when you had one, as he had failed to see when he had one in his arms. Never again. But then, he’d always been a quick study, and liked to think he knew how not to make the same mistake twice.

“Would you believe,” Gale said, “that yesterday, before the Nautiloid, was the worst day of my life?” 

Tav blinked. “Before the Nautiloid?” Gale nodded and rather than scoff, Tav appeared to consider his answer. “And today?” 

The answer stuck in Gale’s throat, a rare occurrence for him, all the more rare because the truth was bubbling up there already and it was too soon, far too soon, he didn’t want to sound like a lunatic, it was already crazed enough to say that their ordeal was the end of one far worse for him. “The day’s still young,” Gale remarked with a good-natured shrug, glancing towards the horizon as if considering the time and not the truth of needing a moment to gather himself. “Why don’t we venture forth and see what it brings, shall we?” 

The best, Gale swallowed back at the sight of Tav’s answering smile. The very best. Isn’t that the maddest part of it all?

[so-much-for-stardust6]

School Bathroom- John Frusciante

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summary: your best friend adds your crush to your guys’ phone call and he hears you confess that you like him. you avoid him at school but he follows you into the bathroom.

lowercase intended

warnings: smut

a/n: y/b/f means your best friend 🫶 also something that isn’t wes borland!!

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one of my favorite parts of school nights are the daily phone calls my best friend and i have to spill whatever gossip we heard.

“no fucking way?! the new girl kara?” i gasp.

today’s topic was how some football player was found cheating on his girlfriend with some new girl.

“yes way! in the girl’s locker room too! jenny’s friend found them, she said blake looked white as a ghost!” she laughs.

“did you hear jenny is gonna fight her tomorrow after school?”

“what no?”

“yeah, are you gonna go?”

“maybe.” i shrug.

i’m currently laying on my stomach with my feet in the air, eating some gummy candies.

“what if i told you that john is gonna be there, will that change your answer?”

“…maybe.” i felt my cheeks heat up.

she knows i have a fat crush on this kid in our grade named john. most of our gossip calls ended with me gushing on how good he looked at school.

“oh hold on, give me a second.” she suddenly says.

i hear the line go quiet, the background music she had on disappeared. i sat there eating my gummies as i wait for her return.

“okay i’m back.”

“where’d you go-“

“you need to make a move, y/n. time is running short, we’re graduating soon.” she says, cutting me off.

“if i could i would, y/b/n. but he is so out of my league.”

“you won’t know if you don’t try. i mean come on, imagine you two being the hottest couple in town! you’re both 18, you both drive AND he literally plays guitar in a band, i mean he’s the one.” she laughs.

“oh god, i know. i would honestly do anything to fuck him. just imagine how good he’d feel. ugh, why does he have to be so damn cute.” i whine out, flipping to lay on my back.

“i don’t know, why don’t you ask him?” i hear a smirk in her words.

“like at school? no way.”

“no, she means right now.” i suddenly hear a deep voice say.

my heart drops once i realize who it is. she fucking added john to the call?!

“y/b/n!” i shout before slamming my phone down.

at that point i was sitting up, breathing fast as my heart raced. he heard me say i’d fuck him. i was so dreading on going to school tomorrow.

~time skip to tomorrow~

i kept my head low and my pace quick as i walked into school. i went into the other entrance today to avoid john. obviously i knew his schedule so i also avoided the places he’d be at. it was finally lunch time and i went to find y/b/n. i see her sitting at our usual lunch table, munching on her food like nothing.

“i genuinely fucking hate you.” i say as i slam my backpack onto the table.

“hello to you too.” she smiles.

“you added john to the call?! are you insane?!” i whisper yell.

“he has to know sooner or later, y/n. it’ll eventually be too late to shoot your shot and then boom, you’ll never see him again.”

“i-i guess but i was not ready! he literally heard me say i’d fuck him, i’m so fucking embarrassed.” i shove my face into my hands.

“well eat up and be embarrassed, we don’t get much time for lunch.”

i mimic her as i take out my lunch. we sat there chatting about what happened in our class and whatnot. once i was done eating, i realized i had sauce all over my hands. i grimace at the sight and excused myself to the bathroom. i decided to go to the bathroom that was far from where john would be, the one basically no one goes to. i push it open with my elbows and immediately go to the sink. it was surprisingly clean in here but like i said, people rarely come in here. all of a sudden i had the urge to pee. i groan in annoyance as i rush into the stall and do my business. i heard the door creak open but i think nothing of it. i finish up my business and head back to the sink to wash my hands. i was looking down at my hands as i wash them so i didn’t notice the person approach me from behind.

“have you been avoiding me?” the person spoke out.

i scream out and jump, turning around quickly to come face to face with the person. i swore my heart stopped once i recognize who it was.

“j-john? why are you in here? i-“

“are you?” he pushes his question again.

i gulp and avoid his gaze, awkwardly shifting my feet.

“i don’t know why y/b/n did that, i’m so sorry.”

“sorry for what, baby?” the nickname made my stomach flip.

“for-for saying i’d fuck you..”

“what would you wanna do to me?” his voice goes low.

he steps closer to me and i squeeze my thighs shut at the rising feeling between them. he leans over me, hands on the counter on either side of me.

“what?” i breathe out, not wanting to believe this is happening.

“what do you think of when you imagine us fucking? i know you do.” he cautiously placed his hands on my hips.

he looks down at them, his eyes looking back up at me to see if his touch is okay. i softly bite my lip and slightly nod, a smile plastered on his face.

“i think of me and you, in my bed, making out. i’m slowly grinding against you and your strong hands are feeling my body. i imagine when we fuck you’re stretching me out so good that i’m crying your name. is that what you wanna know?” all awkwardness left my body as i stare up at him.

i heard him softly groan at my words, lower body moving closer to me.

“i’ve been waiting for you to say something. this entire year i’ve had my eyes on you, i want you as much as you want me. i want you to be mine, y/n. be mine..” he was now leaning down to my ear, his hot breath fanning against it.

“fuck-i’m all yours john..” i tilt my head to the side and whine out.

we stood there, breathing heavily in one another’s presence.

“john?”

“yes?”

“i need you. now..” i nearly whine out.

his head snaps up to look me in the eyes.

“are you serious?”

“dead.”

he didn’t hesitate to smash his lips to mine. it was rough and our teeth clashed. he shoved me onto the sink counter and stood between my legs. my hands were in his hair and on his face, gripping and pushing him closer to me. i slowly felt his fingers move their way towards the button of my pants, hesitantly tugging it.

“can i?” he mumbled onto my lips.

i only nodded, not having enough strength to speak. his fingers trembled as he slowly unbuttoned them, dipping his hand inside. my stomach twisted and turned as he went deeper inside my pants to the one spot i need him at.

i buckled up my hips as a pathetic way to add friction. he listened to my body language and connected his fingertips with my clit. he slowly rubbed me, dipping his fingers into my core to collect my juices.

“you’re so fucking wet for me..” he moans onto my lips.

he pulls away from the kiss for a second to focus on my pants, grabbing the hem of them to start pulling them down. i cooperated with him and helped him shove them down to my ankles. his brain became cloudy when he saw the wet spot on my underwear, knowing he did that to me. he pushed my underwear to the side and he immediately felt his dick get hard. he intensely watched as he pumped his fingers in and out of me. one hand grabbed onto the arm of the hand that was fingering me while the other gripped the counter. i had my head thrown back, eyes shut and eyebrows furrowed. soft little moans escaped my swollen lips and echoed in the empty bathroom.

he held back from kissing my neck because he knew he’d end up marking me. he brought his free hand up to my neck and lightly squeezed. that provoked me to moan louder as he pumped faster. i knew he was a guitarist but i was still shocked at how good he was. i probably sounded and looked so pathetic as he fingered me. i was a mess for him and rightfully so. my brain was all over the place trying to process all the pleasure i’m feeling and all the emotions with the fact that he likes me back. i’ve actually never really seen him play guitar but from this i can tell he’s damn good at it. his fingers were long and slender so he was able to perfectly hit my g-spot. i trembled as he did, the pleasure becoming too much to handle. my stomach tightened with pleasure and i moaned out his name.

“you close?” he hums.

“mhm..” i whine out.

my grip on his arm becomes tighter as i feel myself getting closer.

he lets go of my neck and bends down to be face to face with my core. without any warning, he began lapping up my juices. i cry out as i grab onto his hair, riding myself against his face. i immediately cum all over his face, forcing his head closer to me. he pulls away with a goofy grin on his face, which was covered in my wetness.

“you taste so fucking good..” he mumbles out before dipping his head back down.

he laps at me again, quite literally slurping me up, the noise echoing in the bathroom. as i was reaching my second orgasm he pulled away, licking his lips.

“let me clean you up, baby.” he got up and walked to a stall to grab some toilet paper.

i quickly noticed the very prominent boner pressing against the fabric of his pants. an idea popped into my head and i had to act quick on it. i jump off the counter and shove my pants back up and rushed to the stall he was in. he was about to walk out but i shoved him back inside and locked the door.

“y/n? what are you-“ he cut himself off when i palmed him.

“you’re hard. you need to relieve yourself, johnny. can i help?”

“fuck..yes please..” he buckled his hips up towards me.

i didn’t waste anytime to pull his pants and boxers down, his dick springing free. i spat onto my hand and began pumping him. he dropped his head against the stall wall, his adam’s apple prominent. i knew we didn’t have much time left of lunch and y/b/n was probably looking for me so i put him in my mouth. i bobbed my head up and down at my own pace but he eventually grabbed onto my hair and face fucked me. i sat there, on my knees, as he fucked my face in a bathroom stall. my hands rested on his thighs, squeezing them a bit when it got hard to breathe. john’s actions came to a halt when we heard the door open and multiple voice boom out throughout the room. i was expecting us to call it quits and wait for them to leave but john started thrusting again. he went slower this time so i wouldn’t make any noises. he bit onto his bottom lip in order to keep himself quiet.

the girls who entered were most likely standing in front of the mirror since i heard them talking about fixing up stuff. i was hoping they wouldn’t see two different people in a stall in the mirror. and me being on my knees makes it very obvious to what is happening. i saw a little bit of john’s v cut causing me to slightly moan out and get wet again. he got a little more and more confident that the girls wouldn’t hear us so he went faster and harder, choking me whenever the tip would hit the back of my throat. tears welled up in my eyes and slipped down my cheeks but i didn’t care, i actually kinda liked it. the tip of my nose kept hitting his skin, his dick now as far as it could go in my throat. he was struggling to hold in his moans, his hands getting restless. the girls inside giggled loudly before the sound of shoes got faint and the door closed. john immediately started moaning loudly, needing to release it all. the way he sounded was a blissful thing to hear. his hips stuttered a bit, his rhythm becoming messy.

“i-i’m cl-close…” he cried out.

i hummed around him to signal that i heard his words. his gripped my hair tighter when i did that, his orgasm literally right there. i hummed once more which sent him over the edge. he arched his back as he stopped his movements. hot spurts of his cum coated my throat. once he was done cumming, he pulled me off of him. i had tears stained all over my cheeks, my eyes bloodshot red. i opened my mouth to show him his cum that sat on my tongue before swallowing it.

“god, you’re so fucking hot.” he groaned out.

i chuckle at his words as i grab some toilet paper to clean him up. i discarded the paper into the toilet and flushed.

“maybe i should follow you into bathrooms more often.” he joked.

“or maybe you could be my boyfriend and we can do this whenever and wherever we want?” i slyly said, a certain look in my eyes.

“are you asking me out, y/n?” he teases.

“yes i am, unless you don’t want me to then i-“

he cut me off by softly kissing me this time.

it was sweet and slow, completely the opposite of how we kissed earlier. i smiled into the kiss, causing him to smile as well. he pulls away with a genuine smile on his face, cheeks slightly rosy.

“i’m taking that a yes?” i giggle.

“yes ma’am.”

i place one last kiss on his lips before exiting the stall.

“lunch is almost over so i should get back to y/b/n, she’s probably looking for me.”

“alright i’ll call you after school, okay?” he grabs onto my hands and looks down at me.

“but you don’t have my number?”

“y/b/n.” he chuckled.

“god damn that bitch.” i mutter.

john laughs once again before kissing my cheek.

“talk to you later, beautiful.” he lets go of my hands and slips out the door.

i stood there with a smile on my face, heart swelling with emotion. i left the bathroom and made my way back to y/b/n.

“where the fuck were you at? how long does it take to wash off your hands? lunch is literally almost over.” she complains.

“sorry, i got caught up with something.” i sit down, packing up my lunch.

“were you crying? what happened? who said something?” worry immediately flooding her eyes.

“no one said anything. i’ll tell you later tonight, okay?”

“okay…” she furrows her eyebrows before going back to her food.

“oh, you forgot to button your pants.” she points.

i mentally curse myself as i quickly button it. i look back at her but my focus immediately went behind her. john stood there with his friends, laughing about whatever. john’s eyes looked around and landed on mine, a smile was quick to form on his face. he waved to me which made me smile and wave back. she noticed me waving and turned around.

“you’re talking to john? what happened when you were gone..?” she eyed me.

thankfully the lunch bell rang, everyone started to walk to class.

“like i said, you’ll know later.” i wink at her before getting up and going to class.

“y/n?! what the fuck does that mean?!”

[whinlatter]

think (harry/ginny) | a microfic

day 13 of @hinnymicrofic | prompt: think

He showers quick, tries to scrub the train off him. Snorts at the sight of Vernon’s large bottle of hair-thickening shampoo. Having stared at his uncle’s head all the way back from London, he reckons Vernon’s due a refund.

There's some lurid deodorant of Dudley's - hair gel, too, looks cheap and shit. He feels a stab of pity for whichever poor girl his cousin’s trying to scrub up for these days. Dudley trying to pull, he thinks with a laugh, Christ. But thoughts of pulling lead to thoughts of girls, which lead, inevitably, to thoughts of Ginny.

He shoves the hair gel back on the shelf. Adds Dudley pulling to the don’t think about it list he’d started making on the train, somewhere around the Cumbrian border, when Ron had offered him a Caramel Kappa, Ginny’s favourite, and he’d wanted to throw up all over the chess board.

The Dursleys had waited all of two seconds after he’d slammed the car boot shut before speeding off to dinner at some miserable gastropub off the M3. Suits him fine, wants to be alone. He stabs a fork through the plastic film of his ready-meal, makes sure to puncture the yellow reduced sticker Petunia's left on for his benefit, and watches the bright white of the mashed potato atop the shepherd’s pie whirling around in the microwave. 

You know, it’s made from real shepherd, he’d said to Ginny once. That’s such a dad joke, she’d said, and he’d said I wouldn’t know and she’d said Potter you get one dead dad joke a day and you already used today’s up at breakfast. Shepherd’s pie is on the don’t think about it list, then, he thinks, just before he burns his fingers sliding the ready meal onto a tray. Probably best add cottage pie, too, same idea. Maybe all savoury pies, play it safe.

He flops down on the sofa, feet up on the coffee table, eats straight from the hot plastic as he flicks through channels. The nine o'clock news is all budget this, Hong Kong that, Tim Henman out at Wimbledon. The nine o’clock news is not Dumbledore's dead, Snape murdered him, there’s a war on, Harry Potter's dropped out of school to go hunt bits of Voldemort's dismembered soul. 

Dropped out of school, he thinks. Scandalous, delinquent. What d'you reckon? he asks the Ginny in his head. Harry Potter, troubled dropout? Do anything for you? The Ginny in his head laughs. It’d be fun if she were here, he thinks, curled up next to him on this ugly sofa, taking the piss out of Petunia’s cushion covers and Dudley’s wrestling trophies. Imagines taking her up to his bedroom, pointing out the lamp Dobby whacked himself around the head with. But then the Ginny in his head looks at him and says I never really gave up on you and I knew this would happen in the end, and it all bursts, shatters into a hundred dusty pieces.

He chucks the rest of the meal in the bin, adds dropping out of school to the stupid list. Might as well add the budget, Hong Kong and Tim Henman, why not.

Turns off the telly, goes upstairs and lies on his bed, fully-clothed, staring up at the ceiling, because on the walk from the living room to his bedroom the list has expanded to include his trunk (train, Hogwarts, Ginny), his jumper (still smells a bit like her on the left arm, pathetic), and Hedwig (how does it feel knowing your owl prefers me, Potter?).

He stares out of the window for a while, eyes next door's new extension, which sort of works - ugly nothing suburbia - until he remembers the twins and Ron at the window in a flying Ford Anglia, zooming him off to the Burrow where a little red headed girl is blushing and sticking her elbow in the butter dish and god, this really is shit, isn't it, they weren't lying. She knew then, of course she did. He's never been good at thinking of nothing, has he, and he's thought about her as he falls asleep every day since about October, so what chance does he have now?

He's dreading the dreams the most, knows they'll be unbearable. Almost hopes he dreams of lockets and green light and dead headmasters. Can't be worse than bright brown eyes, freckles on a bottom lip (how do you even get freckles on your bottom lip, Gin? Don't be jealous of my freckles, Potter, just because your skin's so boring), the smell of her hair (what do you mean my hair smells? What is that supposed to mean? Why are you laughing?) and the sound of her laugh and her gasps and the sound of her breathing, soft, lying beside him under the cloak on the lakeshore. Looking down under the table at dinner, seeing her thigh next to his on the bench, hand on his knee, body drawn to his, magnets, magic.

When he wakes groggily the next day - crick in his neck, still in his jeans - his first thought is: he's overslept. He’s missed Ginny on her way down to breakfast, going to be late for Potions, fucked it.

But no, of course not. There’s no Ginny, no breakfast, no Potions. Might still have fucked it, though, who's to say. Don't, he tells himself, as he heads for the bathroom to scrub the night off him, just don't think about it.

now up on AO3 here | ask me anything

[crowncrown]

i rewatched genloss episode three and I’m about to make it everyone’s problem

Rewatching this episode with the knowledge of what’s going to happen adds such a nuance to this that you can’t fully understand until you already know the ending. From the first 10 minutes Hetch repetitively tells Ranboo he’s still in control of the simulation. He says things like

“Just listen to me I’ve got everything under control”

“I’ve programmed them (the Showfall drones) to believe there’s no show going on right now”

“I’ve disabled your mask”

Even Ranboo acknowledges this, at one point exclaiming

“I don’t know! you’re the one in control!”

Ranboo has gotten very used to this routine. Do what you’re told. Try to succeed the best you can. And maybe less people will die in the process. But this times different. He’s given partial control. The veil over his eyes is lowered just enough where he’s seeing more than he’s ever seen before. But he has no control. Hetch is doing the same thing Showfall has been doing this whole time. Telling Ranboo exactly what to do to get the best show out of him.

As the episode goes on, Showfall alludes to the simulation being active as ever more and more. There’s still background music perfectly timed. The camera angles are still there. Hetch gives us a lazy excuse that he’s using it to watch Ranboo, but this is the same guy who said Ethan and Nikki are still alive and well.

But I think the most sinister thing this time around is that they’re not just feeding Ranboo the answer to the questions they throw at him. They’re feeding him a narrative. When he exclaims “why me?!” Hetch responds with no hesitation “There must be something special about you”

“It’s a show. There’s a script. You’re the hero” ***

(We will most definitely come back to this ;) )

The most CLEAR part that shows us that the simulation is alive, before of course, we are shown very obviously, is the lead up to the kill switch scene. The audio distortion times up with Charlie’s perfectly timed speech. It has its own music. So many different camera angles. Zooms. It’s the best camera work of the whole show. It’s so cinematic and that’s on PURPOSE. Showfall is winking at us through the production of this, almost teasing us at what’s to come very soon after. We should have caught this. We should have been screaming at the screen telling our beloved hero to run. But we were celebrating. This should have been our biggest sign that this is all wrong and there’s no way in hell this is right but we were CELEBRATING. Our hero had won right?!

Yet he knew subconsciously that it was all wrong. Why else would you bow at a camera that’s supposed to be turned off? Once again he’s blind. The veil is pulled fully over his eyes yet again and he is back to the puppet we’ve gotten to know all along.

His victory is nothing but a set up to add more to the cinematography of his death.

And it leads on to the scene that we all dread on every rewatch. The execution. Or the box as I like to call it (🙃) Remember that point I said we’d come back to? This scene has so many parallels it makes my head spin. Hetch reassures Ranboo less than 20 minutes before that:

“You were just doing what you needed to to survive”

“There must be something special about you”

Because he had to do what he had to do right? He was just a guy trying to survive? Or was he? Did our beloved hero really have to do the things he did? Did he betray us? It festers in our brains deciding if this man should live or die while Hetch fuels the fire.

“don’t you see there’s consequences to your own actions?!”

“We only pushed you in the right direction!”

“That was the real you! Ranboo!”

He parallels these phrases in a way that makes us question everything we think we know about him. And the final nail in the coffin hits us right in the decision making skills as he hammers in:

“The choices you made. That’s the real you. That’s what makes you a hero”

That’s. What makes you. A hero.

No valiant efforts. No conquests. Not even winning. No. This was never about being brave or bold. This was about being a pawn. An actor playing whatever part he’s told to play. “The hero” is a title only given to the unluckiest of fools. Believing they are making a difference while being tossed away the second they break script.

That’s what makes a hero.