#when the universe is silent you can tell people it said anything you’d like them to believe

[thorough-witness-enjoyer]

I. Am. Going. To. Be. SICKKKKKKKKKKKK

[ghostbeam]

Tomura shigaraki x reader, tomura is an art student, takes place in the same universe as my charcoal artist!dabi stuff, tomura is like very insecure in some of this, if the writing feels pretentious and flowery and unnecessary that’s because it is<3

His hair is getting long.

Running your fingers through the ends, you notice how it’s nearing his shoulders now. His head is in your lap, staring up at you as you lean against the mountain of pillows on your bed, clad in a pair of underwear and the tee shirt he arrived in. His jeans are stained with paint, hanging low on his hips, unbuttoned and quickly thrown on so he wasn’t naked and vulnerable in your lap. You thumb at the scar by the corner of his mouth and he kisses it, then your palm, then your wrist. Tomura takes your hand in between three careful fingers and places it over his heart.

Love is not how they told you it would be.

The two of you were assigned to the same group in painting iii, formed so that the students could give one another critiques independently. Only, you couldn’t find a single thing to critique in his work.

Tomura worked with oils—or Tomura lived and breathed and died for them. He painted people, always caught in a moment, in the middle of talking, or yelling, or drinking, or sleeping. His attention to detail was unlike anything you’d ever seen before, colors you’d never realized could appear in skin tones, shine on limbs and cheeks that made his subjects both more alive and human than any real person. His work felt sort of dirty, sweaty, perpetually damp. But it was beautiful. You couldn’t say a thing about it.

He’d confronted you about it one afternoon, stuffing handouts from the professor into his bag, which looked to be filled with more loose paper and no text books.

“Do you hate it that much?” It was the first time he’d ever talked to you, actually talked to you and not just about your work during a critique. “You never have anything to say.”

It stuns you for a moment, his anger and annoyance, how he’s decided to aim it at you instead of the group of people clamoring for issues with his painting all class period.

“I’m supposed to point out flaws, tell you where you could have done better, explain how I wasn’t moved,” you explain, staring down at your shoes, “but I can’t do that. There’s not—I don’t see how I could possibly tell you how you could do better.”

“That’s bullshit.” He mutters, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Don’t just say what I want to hear. I won’t like you any more for it.”

He leaves you standing alone in the classroom. Like you? He thought it was about being liked? You’re in such awe of him that you can’t speak, and he thinks you’re just trying not to hurt his feelings.

During the next class, when he stands before your group for critique, you don’t say a word. And he keeps looking at you like he’s waiting for it, like you’ll be angry enough at him for last week that you’ll rip his painting apart. But your silent, once again. Nothing’s changed.

He’s the first one out of the class once you’re dismissed. He walks fast, and you’re out of breath by the time you catch up with him, resting a hand on his shoulder that he flinches away from. Your breath comes out in quick puffs that you can see, wrapping your coat tighter around yourself as you fix him with a glare.

“You’re wrong.” You say once he’s turned around. “I don’t care if you like me or not after critique. It’s not about sparing your feelings. I’ve never seen anything like what you do. And I watch you in class, and you paint like something is clawing it’s way out of you, like you need to do it or you’ll die.”

“You’re honest with everyone else but me.” He argues, unable to accept your words. You have real things to say to your peers. You don’t hold back with them. You make them better. Why couldn’t you do that for him?

“You are not everyone else.” You watch his eyes widen at your words, and if you had any shame, maybe you wouldn’t have said something so bold. “You’re leagues above all of us. Everyone knows it, and that’s why they’re harsh on you.”

Where you say nothing, your group rips into him, picking at each and every detail until there’s nothing left. He takes it all in stride, accepting their words like it’s absolute truth, and returning to his canvas with sunken shoulders and furrowed brows, concentrated on how he could be better. It’s exactly what they want.

He opens his mouth the say something, but stops, feeling a drop of something fall on his cheek. He looks up at the dark clouds above the two of you, and it begins to rain. He curses, taking a hold of your hand and leading you underneath the front of the design building.

“They’re harsh because I deserve it.” He points out, still holding your hand. You could say a million things right now, tell him in detail how moved you are by every piece he makes, but his hand is still in yours, and you don’t trust yourself not to trip over your words because of it. You can only shake your head.

“Why can’t you accept that you’re brilliant?” You question, exasperated. It makes him laugh, his smile being something you’ve never seen before. It makes you think of all the people who have seen this smile before, the stretch of his lips, the creases by his eyes. Had they felt this lucky?

“I think you’re crazy.” He tells you, knocking his knuckles against your head.

“Do you wanna go out?” You ask before you’re able to stop yourself. He leans away from you, surprised.

“What?” You can’t find the words to speak, to tell him you’re sorry, that it was uncalled for, that you’re a total creep. His face is red, you notice. He speaks a moment later, “yes.”

Rising from your lap, he leans over you, kissing your lips with as much tenderness as he had your palm. Your lips are his favorite thing to paint, second only to your thighs which he grips tightly as he wraps your legs around his waist.

When he’d met you, all full of hope and belief in him of all people, he’d thought of you as such a faraway thing. Unattainable. If you couldn’t talk about his work, there was no way you’d ever talk to him. But he was wrong, something he rarely ever is, your faith in him changing how he viewed his own art forever.

He paints you. He paints you a lot. He even paints the two of you together, though your faces are never in those ones, just bodies tangled together on one canvas. He’d call you his muse if you didn’t hate it. And besides, he knows you’re so much more.

If there had been something inside of him clawing it’s way out, you had noticed it, freed it, kept it safe with you so it wasn’t so agonizing to carry on his own.

No, it’s not how they told him it would be at all.

[writerscall]

i cannot be your friend, so i pay the price of what i lost. and what it cost now that we don't talk.

because pushing her away was easier than having to stomach seeing her be with someone else.

author's note/s: 1k words. this is part one of a series. close friends to sad strangers to surprise college roommates is a trope, right?

Ignoring Hazel for the rest of the year wasn’t an easy decision or any easy thing to do. You two weren’t attached at the hip but you were such good friends that even the people who didn’t really talk to either of you eventually asked if you two had a falling out. We’re both just pretty busy at this time of senior year, you’d tell them; you had no idea what Hazel’s answer was to that, and you didn’t wanna know. It hurt you to ice her out but after what happened at the game, you just couldn’t be around her. Not when it was clear that PJ was in the picture like that.

Really, you should’ve been happy for her. You were one of the first people she came out to and even though she never explicitly said it, you knew she wanted to experience one relationship, or even a sort of fling, before high school ended. But your wishful thinking that it could’ve been the two of you in the end like some cliche really was just that — wishful thinking. That kiss and the way she and PJ acted around each other after said it all.

So you blocked it all out. Joined some clubs to fill up your schedule and actually make you as busy as you said you were, focused on academics like never before, got closer to other friends (for obvious reasons but also, why the hell not? It was senior year and you might not see some of them again). Overall, there were pros to what you decided to do about your crush on Hazel Callahan. You were making the most out of a sucky situation.

What you weren’t proud of was deciding to go out with the baseball team’s captain on a whim, and then agreeing to really date him after. He was nice and was a pretty good boyfriend, but you weren’t as into him as he was into you. But that was the least of your concerns throughout that relationship that inevitably came to an end as graduation neared.

You’ll never forget the complicated look on her face the day he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek at your locker. You’ll never forget the ‘Can we talk now? Please?’ text she sent that night, her last attempt at reaching out before she took to ignoring you too.

And that was it. Hazel wasn’t part of your senior year until its end and you assumed it would be the same for the rest of your life, or at least for a long, long time.

But the universe just loved playing cruel tricks sometimes.

“Okay, you’re sure you’ve got everything? Those new notebooks, your writing materials, enough bras and pa—”

“Okay, mom!” You cut her off with a nervous laugh, silently thanking god that your roommate and whoever was helping her move in hadn’t arrived yet. “I’ve got it all, I promise. It’s okay for you to go now.”

Your mother sighs as she reaches out to give your arm a squeeze, and after a few more pointers for your first day and about five ‘you can always give us a call for anything’ reminders, you were alone. You smile to yourself as you look at your fixed up side of the dorm, jittery in a good sense. Everyone said college was different from high school in the best way and you were determined to make it so. Even though you knew how much busier and hectic life would get with university level academics.

You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t hear the door open. It’s only when that painfully familiar voice says your name that you snap out of it.

Hazel Callahan, practically the same as ever, standing in the doorway with her luggages and a duffel bag across her body. She manages a smile, small and hesitant. To your surprise, all you can say is, “You’re my roommate?”

Her face twitches in disappointment, smile faltering noticeably. You didn’t mean for that to come off the way it clearly did but the question escaped you before you could think. Of all the people in the world — or even just of all the people in high school, it just had to be her? You were over Hazel. You’d tried so hard and honestly haven’t thought about her much at all since graduation.

Only for all that effort to feel like it was undone within seconds. Fantastic.

“Trust me, I… I didn’t know this would be the arrangement. My mom’s got an old friend here who could probably do a room switch for one of us — I mean, for me I guess, you’ve already got your side of the room fixed up while I’m still all packed, so—”

You put a hand up to stop her. “Hazel, it’s fine. We can share this room. All that stuff from…” You let the sentence trail off and clear your throat. “I mean, it doesn’t matter anymore, it never really has.”

Though expecting her to brighten even slightly at your attempt at an olive branch, her expression stays the same. Complicated actually, like the one she had upon seeing you and your (short-lived) senior year boyfriend for the first time in school. You try not to think about it.

“Anyway, I’ve got some things to go check with the registrar’s office, so I’ll get out of your hair so you can unpack and all that.” There was nothing to check with at the registrar’s office, but you needed to find some place that wasn’t your dorm to pull yourself together. Or maybe scream.

There’s a look of understanding on her face but shakes her head at you. “You wouldn’t be in the way. We could use this time to catch up. It’s been a long while, you know?”

Well, you certainly weren’t ready for that, so you just say something about wanting to get to the office while it wasn’t too busy yet. You cast her a side glance with a smile that you really hoped didn’t look forced or fake as you watch her bring in her things, then make a beeline for the door. 

But you stop when she asks, “Hey, um, maybe we can sit with each other at the orientation tomorrow?”

“Uh… yeah, sure.” And you knew that didn’t sound forced or fake with the way Hazel almost grins at you.

Yeah, you really needed to find a place to scream somewhere on campus.

[sunsbleeding]

“I think I’ll just stay with her till I get my birthday presents”, she laughs, sounding more pig than human. I nod along as she continues, “she such a freak she just stares at the wall all day”, I bite my tongue, because saying the wrong thing would get her all despondent and quiet. Agree or be ignored, just like the shadow of my mother and her silent treatments.

But the thing is I used to just stare at the wall all day too, for whole weeks actually. I’d be so depressed that the heaviness in my stomach would anchor me to my bedspread; nothing to do but watch the sun change shape over the walls as it sank. I did this in high school a few months before the hazy night my life was supposed to end. The EMTs refused to let me choose though. Stuffed my soul back in my body and wiped vomit off my face and chest with those cheap paper towels you usually only find in gas station bathrooms.

When we talked ill of her girlfriend I should have said “well you’re using her, you’re manipulating her, you don’t respect her boundaries, you date a wizard created by a terf in your head, and to top it all off you’re in love with a man that lives in LA, for God sakes you write poetry about him for her to see (and laugh when it’s the only poem she doesn’t heart), you make out with me and tell me not to tell her, you can keep her on a leash if she doesn’t know you lie”

So you go, scurry on putrid rat and tell MY stories to your “friends” but boy do I have tales to tell about you, and none of them are even remotely funny or interesting or complex, because you are not any of those things. The stories are just snippets of a girl who was and always will be a boring beige wall of a person, spineless, dreamless, talentless and going nowhere bright. Couldn’t even sign up for university classes properly my ass, you’re just too lazy with a lack of comprehension or a knack for learning about anything that matters. I went through all of university without the money for therapy, without meds for my anxiety or depression, or a diagnosis for my ADHD. You have all the help in the world afforded to you and you still choose to do nothing with your life. Pathetic. You wouldn’t have enough time to read fan fiction anyways so it’s better you just study that, since it’s the only thing you’re remotely good at.

You tell them about your addict, child molested, depressed ex-best friend, who’s seen the world, experienced so much life, built a dream into something tangible, made money you took full advantage of, finished university (it’s not for everyone and that’s okay but let’s be honest you’d rather read smut some horny weirdo on the internet made up than learn about anything real, meaningful or socially relevant).

This all has taught me that I have real friends and supporters in my circle, I have people that’ll sit with me in the bathroom while I’m having a panic attacks. Celebrate being even five days clean. Ask me if I’m okay if I look spaced out (dissociating is something I deal with).

Because of this I remembered I have passions, and taste, and empathy (the word you skipped when you were reading the dictionary). I’ll tell them about you, a waste of space nobody who feeds off the energies of the pretty or cool or interesting girls around her because she hasn’t got a thing going for herself. I have pity for the things you went through but you can only use your trauma as an excuse to be a bad person for so long…. You are a mooch, a liar, a dull woman with the media literacy of an incel and the brainpower of a rock. (Maybe you did do too many whippets in LA smh)

Having a best friend is awesome, having any type of relationship with a delusional psycho narcissist is something I’m done with.

[deliciouskeys]

Cozy Corner Domaystic Prompt #18: Snow Day

Maevlander, 2.5K, rated T. AO3 link.

Jan 23 2016

“I just don’t really understand,” Homelander grumbles, pacing back and forth in front of the large glass wall in Maeve's apartment, periodically stopping and looking out the window.

“Which part don’t you understand,” Maeve asks wearily, not looking like she really wants an answer, still in pajamas, still lounging in bed vaping as she stares blankly at the TV screen mounted on the wall with the news on silent, the red ticker-tape at the bottom listing school and university closings in New York and New Jersey. “It’s a city-wide travel ban. Vought headquarters had to close for business today and tomorrow. I’m sure some people came in anyway.”

“I don’t remember New York City shutting down because of a little snow in recent years. Don’t we pride ourselves on infrastructure? Don’t tell me they can’t clear the roadways. And come on, Vought should be one of the last places to shut down because of a little weather!”

“John, it’s literally the weekend. And there’s like three feet of snow on the ground.”

“They said 29 inches.”

“Well however much it is, it’s enough for them to declare an emergency.”

Homelander leans his forehead against the glass staring down. “If it’s really so dangerous, why is Central Park full of people sledding?”

Maeve cocks her head. “You really don’t know what to do with yourself on a day off, huh.”

“Nooo...” Homelander drags out the word, trying to be patronizing but Maeve is unfazed. “I’m just saying. I could clear the roads in an hour all by myself if the mayor or governor thought to ask.”

“I’m sure you could.” Maeve rolls her eyes.

“What, you don’t think so? I could melt Manhattan in a fifteen minute flyby.”

“Yeah, people will be delighted to see you light every street on fire.”

“I wouldn’t be setting anything on fire.” Homelander sounds defensive and it makes Maeve smile.

“Nobody asked you to melt anything,” Maeve says, groaning. “Why can’t you just give things a rest and let people enjoy a snow day?”

“Because it’s dangerous! Ambulances can’t get through. Just because there’s a snow day you think people stop having heart attacks?”

“I never knew you were so concerned about people not being able to get to the hospital. Maybe you should go on runs for the hospitals yourself then. Airlift the people having heart attacks.”

Homelander makes a scoffing sound, still staring intently out the large wall-window, the poor people who dared to go sledding on a Saturday not knowing that they were being scrutinized and judged from 90 floors up and 10 blocks away.

“So saving people is beneath you, but standing there bitching about how few people came into work today isn’t? You can really tell you never got to experience a snow day in childhood, Mr. Grinch.” 

Homelander turns toward her sharply at the last part. Maeve wonders if she’s gone too far now that his gaze has been torn away from the rabble on the ground and directed at her. It's never a good idea to bring up his childhood. But he cracks a smile instead of getting angry at her bluntness and walks over to the bed, sweeping his cape off to the side before sitting down.

“Fine, Maeve, enlighten me. Tell me what makes snow days so fucking magical.” The sarcasm in his tone is off the charts, but his gloves are off and Maeve has learned to recognize that that’s a sign that he wants intimacy, no matter what he says or how it sounds. She cautiously slides her hand into his and she can see an endearing uncertainty and neediness flicker across his face, his expression settling into something softer.

“It’s nothing complicated. You’d wake up in the morning and pray for the robocall to your parents’ landline to tell them school was out. And if you were lucky enough to have a snow day, you had the entire day free to play in the snow.”

“Like, what, build snowmen?”

Maeve smiles at the defensiveness of his tone. He’s so intent on proving to her that he didn't miss out on anything important. 

“When you’re little, yeah. Snowball fights, snowmen, snowforts. When I was a bit older, my dad would take me skiing sometimes.”

“Is skiing fun?” Homelander asks, looking away from her and staring off into a corner of the room, but still holding her hand.

“Yeah. I haven’t done it in a while. But when I was seven, I got my own skis and everything. It’s cheap thrills for a kid, I suppose. You can speed up like all hell if you go down a steep enough slope."

“Would you like to go skiing?” Homelander asks, and despite some misgivings Maeve realizes that she would like to. She relents and says yes. Anything has to be better than being cooped up in the Tower having an argument in her apartment about why people have no work ethic.

Homelander seems to brighten right up when she asks to go. Maybe Maeve underestimates how lonely and lost he feels without a daily agenda, without a script telling him where to be and what to do for most of the day. She's saved him from unstructured time.

“You’re going in that?” Homelander asks, wrinkling his nose slightly at the civilian winter clothes she's changing into.

“You don’t really expect me to ski in my skimpy uniform, do you?”

Homelander shrugs. “I’m just going as I am.”

“Yeah, you won’t be the only douchebag on the slopes wearing spandex, so you might as well.” Maeve looks him over. “You don’t think you can leave the cape at home?”

Homelander gives her a look that says she must be crazy to suggest that.

He flies her in his arms all the way to New Hampshire, where there’s plenty of snow but no blizzard going on, and where the slopes turn out to be more crowded than either of them would probably like.

They have to rent skis of course. Maeve is about to pay for both of them but the employees frantically shake their heads, and assure her it's on the house and that it’s such an honor that she and Homelander have decided to grace their humble ski resort with their presence. Maeve is pretty sure they wouldn’t have recognized her had her partner in crime been wearing anything slightly less conspicuous than full regalia.

Homelander looks skeptical when he’s asked to try on ski boots. As if the boots he came in with are any less of a fashion faux pas, Maeve smiles to herself. The poor teenager helping them starts to visibly sweat when Homelander waves him off dismissively after he offers them helmets. The staff are starstruck and ask for selfies with the two heroes, and a picture of the two of them to hang up on the bulleting board. Homelander and Maeve indulge them for a few minutes before finally heading outside with skis and poles in hand.

“Why are these boots so awkward?” Homelander asks as he follows her out of the lodge and into the snow.

“Because they’re not for walking,” Maeve grumbles. Homelander watches and mimics her as she puts the skis on. She should be grateful that he’s humoring any of this at all. Even if she’s wondering whether she’d enjoy this outing a lot more alone, there is something entertaining about seeing Homelander navigating mundane everyday life with none of his usual self-assurance.

She leads him to the ski lift, the people in line behind them clearly debating whether these were real celebrities or just really good cosplay. Homelander ends up signing a few autographs before Maeve tugs him forward to get in position for the lift.

“So this is just to bring people up the mountain?” he questions, looking around and swinging his skis like a bored kid. And maybe that’s what he is, Maeve thinks.

“Yeah,” she says. As they ski down the small ramp at the top of the lift, Homelander is clearly just taking his cues from her. Maeve hasn’t done this in so long that she hesitates and turns toward the intermediate difficulty slope. Homelander simply follows. He glides with relative ease for someone who’s never been on skis before. Then again, Maeve realizes that he’s not really skiing. As they head down the slope, she decide to stop abruptly. He glides down a little bit past her before halting and skiing himself backwards up the slope to stand in parallel with her.

Maeve smirks. Just as she thought. “Quit being creepy.”

“What?” he asks, and seems genuinely confused.

“What you’re doing isn’t skiing. Stop hovering and put your full weight on the snow.”

Homelander shrugs and visibly settles himself deeper into the snow’s surface.

“Skiing is about getting momentum from sliding down the mountain on two thin pieces of wood, not flying around pretending to ski.”

Maeve expects him to roll his eyes or get defensive and snarky. But Homelander just stares at her and even nods slightly as if she’s some guru dropping knowledge on him.

“You pivot and turn abruptly to stop. You can use your poles to help push off and change direction.” He’ll get annoyed at being tutored at some point, right?

But Homelander still nods. And before Maeve can push off herself, he starts down the slope, looking much less smooth this time, apparently testing things out, trying to do it by her rules. She still suspects he’s using his powers when he stops and looks back at her as if to ask ‘did I do it right this time?’ She skis down to join him.

“Yeah just like that. You’re getting the hang of it.”

They finish the run and get back on the lift, more and more of the crowd at the bottom wisening up to the fact that they’ve got a celebrity among them, but Homelander signs fewer autographs this time before getting on the lift again.

Maeve's getting strangely emotional, sitting here, legs dangling far above the treetops, feeling like she’s gone back in time, almost forgetting who this is. Homelander isn’t her dad. They’re nothing alike, even if she hates both of them. And yet, sitting here in the lift chair takes her back to the times she misses so much, before her dad impressed upon her that becoming part of a Vought-sponsored team should be her goal in life.

“Sorry, I know the lift must be boring when you can just ski up the mountain,” Maeve says. She doesn’t know why she’s apologizing.

Homelander shakes his head. “I don’t mind. I like sitting here with you.”

When he wraps his arm around her, Maeve can’t believe she starts crying. Homelander looks confused and retracts his arm.

“Did- did I hurt you?” he asks, and there’s not an ounce of disdain in his voice, only worry.

“No, it’s nothing,” Maeve says, laughing it off and furiously wiping the tears away. “I just remembered the last time I went skiing with my dad. We never really got along. But I did like to go skiing with him.”

Homelander looks at her, and– even though he can’t possibly understand how she feels– uncannily enough manages to look sympathetic, and she doesn’t even flinch when he wraps his arm around her again, squeezing her closer.

The moment is only ruined by a wolf whistle from the chair behind them.

Homelander’s head starts swiveling back but Maeve pushes his chin back so he keeps facing her. She doesn’t even mind when he takes that as a prompt to start kissing. It’s gentle and feels maudlin– the way he prefers it and she doesn’t. When he’s like this, she can almost forget how violently possessive he gets over her, can almost forget how Vought forced her to hide her sexual past and pretend Elena doesn’t exist. Can almost forget how she was forced into a relationship with him– first a PR one for the ratings, then a “real” one, still for the ratings. Can almost forget that Madelyn Stilwell volunteered all sorts of tips about how to navigate his capricious mood swings and exploit some of his strange vulnerabilities, which made Maeve wonder what sort of relationship they had and may still be carrying on. No, she won’t think about any of that while they’re sitting on this ski lift together, the air cool and crisp around them, his skis overlapping with hers.

She decides to go down the black diamond side this time. People gawk. Maeve feels invigorated, brave, fulfilled, and heads over the bumps so fast that she does end falling into the snow ungracefully. Homelander skis up beside her, looking concerned even though she gets up laughing, wiping snow from her face and hair with the back of her gloved hand.

“You okay there?” he asks, clearly not worried that she hurt herself, but maybe a little worried at other skiers witnessing this. There is someone who stopped further up the slope and whipped out his phone, probably filming all this.

“Yeah. Falling’s part of the fun,” she says. “You should try it sometime.”

“No thanks,” he bites off tersely.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to get that cape wet,” she mumbles under her breath as she starts heading down the slope again. She knows he heard her, no matter how quietly she said it.

They keep skiing even after sundown, just like she used to do when she was a child, not bothering to take a break for a meal. Truthfully, she has no interest in walking into the lodge cafeteria and creating a commotion of people wanting selfies and autographs. Homelander is just taking her cues, following her around like a puppy the entire time. He doesn’t deign to fall over, not even for her sake, but he takes the lift up each time, never insisting on being an asshole and skiing up the slope or flying to show off. She suspects sitting on the lift with her is actually his favorite part of this whole escapade leaving Vought Tower for the day.

“Still bitter about the snow day?” she asks playfully on one of their more silent trips on the lift when he seems lost in thought.

He’s staring off into the distance with a strange look on his face, then seems to look down and study his skis. “I did have snow days as a child,” he says. “They just weren’t very fun.”

She tenses a little bit. When Homelander reminisces about his childhood it’s often the death knell of any fun, normal interaction between them, and a turn toward a morose angry mood. But he looks calm. 

“When there was a snow emergency, only a skeleton crew would come to work in the lab. Nobody interacted with me. Most of the scientists would stay home. The whole building was much quieter than usual. They never did experiments on me on those days, I guess, but it wasn’t a good tradeoff. I’d sit there listening to the snow landing on the roof of the building, without really knowing what it was. I’d only seen it in pictures and movies. I didn’t even imagine that it’s something wet.”

Maeve feels herself shudder and quickly pretends it’s because she’s cold, prompting Homelander to hug her in closer. He even wraps his cape around her, and she knows he hardly ever uses that for anything so utilitarian. She’s not going to let him know she shudders whenever she hears yet another tidbit about his lab days and realizes anew that the way he was raised means he can never be a balanced, pleasant person, and that it’s a miracle that he can mimic people enough to blend in. Vought have managed to raise an alien creature on earth.

Homelander leans his head in even closer and whispers “Can we have sex tonight? When we get back?” in a wheedling tone, and she nods automatically without even thinking, terrified of him and at the same time full of pity.

A smile spreads wide on his face and he releases her from the embrace as they near the top of the lift and prepare to ski off.

A/N: This blizzard was a real thing :)

[aphroditeslover11]

Exam Shenanigans

Oppie x Reader

Summary: Oppie helps you through a tough exam.

A/N: My first time writing anything so please be kind. Lloyd is totally fictional, as is Oppenheimer in this as he is mainly based on Cillian Murphy’s portrayal. If you like it please feel free to get in touch.

It was just a regular evening, Robert had been working at the university as usual and had just got back to his house in Shasta road, hoping that he’d just be able to have a quiet evening in, maybe get on with a bit more of his current paper or discuss the new book that you’d been reading together. Instead he walked through the door to darkness. The house seemed empty until he reached the living room where he found you, single light on in the corner and hunched over, seemingly heaving.

“Y/N, are you alright darling?” he asked, switching on another light before making his way over to you. It soon became clear that you had been crying, leaning over a book that you had been trying to read through your tears.

“I’m fine Robert, nothing that you need to worry about.” Not satisfied with your response he adjusted the cushions of the sofa, sitting down beside you. He wasn’t always the most sensitive to the emotions of others, but he could at least tell when you were lying to him.

“Love, you’ve been crying, something must be wrong.” He noticed then that you were moving to hide the book down the side of the sofa. “Was your novel sad, unhappy ending?” he pushed a little further. You just shook your head at him, still silent, as if speaking would set you off again. “What is it you’re reading anyway?” With that he gently reached across you, taking the book from your grasp and noticing your brief reluctance to release it. As soon as he saw the title he understood why you were crying: ‘A Comprehensive History Of The Late Western Empire’, a history textbook.

As soon as you knew that he had seen it you started to explain. “My professor set a surprise exam on the Roman Empire and I don’t know anything about it. We were meant to be doing the French Revolution when I took the course, but he changed his mind on units last minute. ”

“I’m sure we can sort it out, you don’t need to be so upset love. Who’s your professor? Maybe I could pull some strings and get you transferred.” he said taking you into his arms, the reassurance driving any tears away. You were a student at Berkeley, having met Robert through friends at a social event and quickly falling for him. After a period of dating your accommodation had fallen through and he had insisted that you move in with him. It was fast, but you stayed over half the time anyway, so it made sense.

“Lloyd, but I don’t want to transfer, he already doesn’t like me and I don’t want it to look like I’m giving up.”

“Lloyd wouldn’t do anything for me anyway, hates my guts, that’s probably why he’s difficult with you.” Although Robert loved it at Berkeley and was friends with half of the faculty, he didn’t get on so well with the other half, who openly hated anyone with his kind of politics.

“Well then, there’s only one other solution, we’ll have to work through it together.”

“Robert, I love you, but the exam’s in a week and I have no idea what’s going on, all the people in that book have the same bloody name. What do you know about the Roman Empire anyway? You’re a physicist.” The man chuckled slightly at that remark, lightly stroking your hair to relieve your angst.

“You happen to be very lucky, because one of the classes that I took when I was at Harvard was history, and I happen to have read all 3,000 pages of Edward Gibbon’s ‘Decline And Fall Of The Roman Empire’. I might just be able to remember a thing or two.” Robert really was unbelievable sometimes, you just had to hope that he had the knowledge to face the challenge as well as the cockiness, though he usually did.

The next week was spent with your head in and out of books. Robert would borrow books from the Berkeley library whilst he was at work, bringing them home to you. He spoke to a friend who worked in the history department who gave you some pointers on what to focus on. By the end of the week you weren’t perfect, but you knew a lot more about Rome than you used to, thanks at least partly to Oppie’s efforts. He drove you in on the day of the exam, smiling at you softly as you went through some last minute notes from the papers sat in your lap. He delivered a chaste kiss to your lips, offering reassuring words as you left the car, ready to face the music.

~

Five days later you came into Robert’s office at the university, interrupting him grading papers, but he would always drop everything for you. He looked up to see you waving an envelope in your hand.

“We got the grades back today, but I couldn’t bring myself to it open without you.” He extended an arm to you, scooting his chair back so that you could situate yourself in his lap.

“Well, aren’t you going to open it?” he asked once you had yourself settled, handing you a letter opener. Nervously, you took the proffered tool, ripping across the top of the envelope in one swift motion. Pulling out the piece of paper, your eyes immediately went to the letter written at the top of the page. A.

You immediately jumped from Robert’s lap, squealing in happiness. He was reserved as ever, though his face broke into a wide smile once he saw the piece of paper that you had dropped in your excitement. He stood up to join you in celebration, pulling you into his arms before planting a firm kiss to your lips.

“I’m so proud of you love, I knew that you could do it.”

“Not without you Rob, you’ve been a godsend this past week.”

“Have a little more faith in yourself love. But forgetting everything else, what do you say to going out to celebrate? Maybe grab dinner and have a couple of drinks?”

“That sounds wonderful Robert,” you replied, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

[mara-tevith-solo]

Give Me a Reason

Chapter 4! Yay!

Pairing: Recom Lyle Wainfleet x Na’vi/Avatar curvy!reader

Warnings: a bit angsty, a bit feeling denial, trying to not love the enemy, flight training, mentions of past war, mentions of past child losses because of the war

Rating: 18+

Words: 2.5k+

Taglist: @luciddasher​, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed​, @perseny​

Up and up your group climbed, moving slower than hunters normally moved, adding nearly a whole day to the journey. It didn't take long to break the tree line, the group stopping to take in the new view before continuing.

The entire climb up into the mountains, Spider goaded the soldiers, easily outpacing them all as he scrambled up the thick vines as though they were flat surfaces. "This is why the kids dubbed him 'Spider'." You confided to Quaritch as you caught your breath well after midday, the Recoms happily joining you as Spider gloated from his perch a few meters above. You'd pushed them hard after they'd eaten, trying to move at a more Na'vi pace, trying to encourage them to push their own limits.

He passed you his canteen, not even having taken a sip yet "The kids from the clearing." He hummed as you took him up on the offer, passing it back to him without drinking much. You nodded silently as he took it, drinking a little as well before putting it back on his belt.

"For a while, they were the only kids in the Clan, many not having survived the sacking of Hometree, and the those that did became adults way too quickly." You didn't sugarcoat your words, you didn't mince them. Quaritch had a Universe worth of atoning to do if he wanted you to wholly trust him with Spider.  

He looked away from you with a scowl, though his eyes were dark and heavy with shame from what you could see. You didn't push him further, nor call after him as he stood and walked away "Let's move, people." He ordered sharply as he took the lead, leaving everyone else to scramble and follow after him.

"What'd you say to him?" Lyle's voice appeared just off your shoulder, his tone displeased as you watched him try to not scowl at you.

You shrugged innocently "I just pointed out that Spider and the Sully kids were the only kids in the clan for awhile." He understood your implications immediately, what you were calling all of them though he didn't understand why. He genuinely thought you both, at least, were starting over again. Fresh slate and everything. His skin paled and took on a green caste simultaneously as he pushed ahead with his Colonel, leaving you to walk in the middle of the procession.

You slept alone that night, not that you truly minded. Or at least you had somewhat convinced yourself you didn't. Zdinarsk had first watch that night, Lyle being allowed to rest though he stayed away from you. Spider seemed to like the distance, sitting between the two of you as he ate with a smile on his face between breaths. "Can you sing again tonight, Mom? That other song this time?" He hadn't favored you singing him to sleep since he began puberty, though you supposed that he wanted the extra comfort in your stressful situation.

You nodded with a soft smile, knowing that it was going to turn heads and call attention, but you didn't have it in you to say no that night, instead steadying your breathing and taking the leap "Never thought I'd find an angel undercover, who made a change to everything." You could see Lyle staring at you from the other side of Mansk, but neither of you acknowledged it, neither of you said anything about it "From my heart to my last name, hey, hard to tell, when he fell, that boy was Heaven sent. And every night when I close my eyes, before I say amen..." You stopped singing again at the sound of Spider's soft snores, sighing softly and avoiding eye contact with everyone as you laid down to sleep, stiff as a damn board. Singing your First Dance song had never been a problem before... but singing it with an audience, one of which had been the damned groom... it made you uncomfortable after the fact. At the implications it held. You were having a difficult time keeping an emotional distance from Lyle, you'd already failed the physical part of it. You'd failed it spectacularly in fact, and you were still fantasizing about it. Damn man and his addicting dick.  

"So, what's this 'shaheyloo' thing we need to do?" Prager asked, moving up to stand next to you on the overlook while you all rested, calling back to a conversation several of you had had over breakfast.

"TSA-hey-lu." You enunciated patiently with a friendly smile "it is the bond a Na'vi bodied person makes with their mount, sharing their mind and being with each other."

"How do you do it?" Lyle asked, appearing on your other side with his arms crossed and resting on the rifle that dangled from the strap oddly around his neck.

"You connect kuru," You pulled yours forward and held up the end, the tendrils dancing in the sunlight as though they were happy for its warmth "and you do so gently."

"How do you know if you're being gentle?" Prager asked, not quite meeting your eyes as he talked, soft lavender tinting the tips of his ears.

"You have to focus on it until you're more familiar with it. Practice makes perfect." Your words were full of gentle understanding as you spoke, vaguely remembering days where you had been in his shoes.

You remembered the Pali Tsu'tey had you learning on, a stubborn stallion who'd rather mind his own instead of minding you. You remembered how he had purposely been difficult and aggressive towards you, bucking at the worst moments. You'd quickly gotten good at staying on, moving from wrapping yourself around his neck to just gripping with your legs. Tsu'tey would bust up laughing every time like it was something out of a comedy. You'd bitched him out the one time the Pali managed to buck you off right into a shallow pool, a rock striking the side of your head so hard you looked like a crime scene. He'd made you walk back to Hometree alone, though he had found you later with a full healer's kit and helped you properly clean and care for the gash.

It was midday on the third day when you finally reached the Rookery, everyone groaning in relief and sitting down for a rest. You'd pushed them harder than ever that day, left them with little energy to even ask many questions, a catch twenty-two, sure but you weren't on a time crunch.

You whistled as soon as you were behind the waterfall that marked the end of the path, the sound shrill and piercing to your ears as you waited, listening for one particular roar amidst the hundreds on the other side of the water. "What are we waiting for?" Mansk asked, shifting his weight nervously. Before anyone could answer him an Ikran burst through the water with an exasperated drawl, fanning her wings to purposely get you wet.

Others cursed as you laughed, shielding your face from the water before pouncing on the beast, arms around the base of her neck for a hug that she reciprocated as best as she could, purring loudly "This is my Ikran, Issa. When you all have chosen yours, she and I will be teaching you to fly better." You couldn't contain your beaming smile as you turned back to the slightly tense Marines.

"Wow." Prager murmured as he came closer to inspect Issa, staying a respectful distance away but his adoration made the Ikran puff up and preen.

You gently grabbed one of her kuru and brought it forward so that they could see "Remember, they will try to kill you, so make the bond as soon as possible."

They all nodded before you patted Issa again and led them over the narrow passage that led to the Proving Ground, opening to the Rookery. Everyone went low, making yourselves as small as possible as you hid behind menial cover that mainly made the Recoms feel better. "I got this." Quaritch's words pulled you from your staring, over to the tranq gun that he was grabbing from Lyle.

"Kehe!" You snapped loudly, gripping the muzzle of the air rifle and pushing it down harshly, your tail hitting the ground on either side of you in anger, your ears pinned to the sides of your head. You could not believe that they were even thinking of doing something so dishonorable, the curses and rebuffs primed and ready on your tongue.

Spider though was laughing, taking a whole other approach with the man, hitting him right in the ego "Kids younger than me do this with their bare hands." He scoffed, shocking his head.

Quaritch turned his attention to the teen as you turned your glare onto the others, daring them to test your temper "Jake Sully did this the hard way?" You couldn't help but roll your eyes, knowing, just from that question alone, that he was pitting himself against Jake, trying to be the better of the two.

"What do you think?" Spider scoffed again, coming to the same conclusion as you as he all but side-eyed his father.

Quaritch looked genuinely stuck for a moment as he mulled over his options, his pride not letting him even consider using the air rifle that was still under your control, sighing as he jerked it away from you and handed it back to Lyle. You were sure to pin the Lieutenant with your best 'I fucking dare you' glare the mere moments he held onto the accursed thing "What are we doing, Colonel?" Lyle asked softly, looking for direction as he began breaking down the rifle to stow it back in his pack. He didn't look you in the eye until it was packed away, a hint of shamed lavender across the bridge of his nose. You both turned away from each other and watched as Quaritch approached the many Ikran, moving with sure movements. An Ikran picked him almost immediately, a beauty of a beast with a deep blue base color and splashes of bright coral smattered against bold gold striping. Even with a beige underbelly he was striking. And, judging by the ferocity of his roar, he had a personality to match.

His form wasn't half bad, unconventional, but not bad as he punched the Ikran in the face and immediately dove under the head when the beast tried to batter him with it. It was like they were dancing as the Ikran whirled right as Quaritch jumped, twisting in the air to match the Ikran's movements until he was latching onto the kuru and holding on for dear life as the dragon tried to buck him off. At one point he hit hard, hard enough to wince loudly as he wrapped his legs around the base of the neck "Did we mention you're supposed to tie the mouth shut first?" Spider called to him as he laughed.

Quaritch just stared for a moment, pausing in his efforts just enough for the Ikran to almost buck him off again, snapping his out of it "Thanks a lot kid!" He yelled back before they were both diving off the cliff.

"Move up! Move up!" Lyle ordered though you were already jogging cautiously to the edge, remembering the last time you'd been that close to it. "Can you see him?" He asked, though you couldn't tell if it was directed at you or someone else. You waited for nearly a minute before Lyle was calling it, his voice soft and mournful but not wholly feeling "Alright, let's call it. Oscar Mike. Come on." The other Recoms were slow, almost hesitant to follow him, leaving one of their own behind, the founding member as it were.

Quaritch had chosen that moment to reappear, whooping and hollering from the back of his Ikran, fist high in the air as he celebrated "Ya! That's right!" He cheered, looking like a kid who'd just gotten a first place trophy.

"Get some!" Lyle cheered as well, all of the Recoms excited to see their Colonel, see him successful.

"Who's next?" Quaritch called as he and the Ikran swooped overhead, encouraging the others to step up. You rested a hand on Spider's shoulder as though to pass the mantle on to him before you were rushing back to Issa, her crooning welcoming you from the small cavern. She was vibrating with excitement and anticipation as you made tsaheylu and hopped into the saddle, her screech loud and proud before she was leaping through the waterfall, free falling into the air below. You couldn't restrain your excited yip, the sound peeling from your throat as you laid low to her neck, eyes closed against the wind until her wings snapped open and you both began the climb back to the others. Issa flew high over their heads, what looked like Ja wrestling with an Ikran while the others turned their attention to Issa momentarily. As she tucked her wings in for another free fall you chirped an invitation to Quaritch; it was time to start the fun part of lessons. He whooped as his Ikran turned to follow you, diving down enough to fly side by side with Issa as she opened her wings to glide in the open space. He took a place nearly brushing wingtips with Issa, sharing wind as Issa began teaching the two how to bank and share the wind, how to not take the wind from the rest of the formation. One by one, the Recoms joined your column until only Spider was left. Issa broke formation and flew high again, angling over the glade. He stepped near to the edge, watching and waiting for the cue to reach out and jump. You positioned your feet as Issa flipped over, flying upside down as you stood from the saddle, reaching for Spider as you passed over his head. As soon as your hands were locked you were pulling him to the saddle and Issa was corkscrewing towards the forest, screeching her exhilaration as Spider whooped happily from his spot in front of you. Spider was still laughing at the thrill when the others joined you, Quaritch taking point "That was some fancy flying, Wainfleet." He praised through the throat comms.

You laughed into the wind as you patted Issa on the neck just ahead of Spider's leg "You can learn how to fly like that too, it just takes practice and trust."

He nodded in slight trepidation and determination before shifting his focus "Let's head back to base, these Banshees need saddles."

"Yes, sir." Filtered through the comms from multiple different voices as he began leading in the direction of Bridgehead, the trip was easily going to be much much faster now that you all had the best form of transport Pandora had to offer. You knew it wouldn't be as fast as it was with you and Jake, but you were almost willing to bet money that, given a year, you'd have them all embracing Eywa.    

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

Hellooo could you please do the outsiders ship for me🙏❤️

I have long thick brown hair, hazel eyes, kinda tanned skin and I’m 5’1. My styles mostly basic but I like to wear darker colors. I also wear glasses that are kinda rectangular but also cat eye shaped?? I don’t really know how to explain it lmao

I’m super duper shy and awkward, like when I’m talking to people I don’t really know I have no idea what to say and I sometimes stutter it’s so bad 😭 Although, a lot of people thing I’m really serious and mature and I’d like to say a lot of people respect me, which I live up to a lot. With my closer friends, I’m still pretty quiet but I feel as if I can be more like myself around them. Im usually just saying random little things that start the most random conversations. For example, I was sitting with a group of friends and randomly said after being completely silent for the past 10 minutes to one of my friends, “if we were doing a heist you’d be the guy in the earpiece telling people what to do” which started a whole conversation of what role we’d all play if we were doing a heist💀 I think I’m the dad friend of the group, not really doing anything but encouraging stupid stuff. I’m also very blunt. I know this next parts gonna sound really bad but I was talking about how I was really scared of my friends dogs last time I saw them, then she said they were dead and I was like “thank god🙏” (She was ok with it I swear!! 😭) I’m also the person many people come to for help, even if I don’t know them well. Whether it’s for school or just advice I love helping people. I’m also a pretty big nerd, like I love rambling about movies, music, celebrities, or characters. To wrap this up if you just went up to a random person and asked them about me they would probably just say I’m kind, smart, and quiet

Thank you so much for doing this I really do appreciate it ❤️❤️❤️

You’re outsiders ship: Ponyboy Curtis

Explanation: physical wise, he would love the way you look I feel like he would adore your glasses and find them so cute and would be absolutely possessed by your eyes and how pretty they are in especially how pretty they look in the frame of your beautiful glasses. If you especially felt care about your glasses, he would always be there for you and I feel like he just doesn’t understand how you can even be insecure in them because he finds them so amazing. I think he’s less shy and more awkward and I think you guys would actually just be super cute together trying to like starter through conversations and eventually when you get to that comfortable phase, I think you guys would be just so powerful. I think he admires your seriousness and mature and kind of wants to be more like you in that sense since he’s pretty serious and not as mature and I feel like he feels like he has a lot to learn from you and you have a lot to learn from him. I feel like pony boy would also be the earpiece person in a heist so you guys fit really well for each other. I feel like interest wise you guys are pretty similar. He would love reading and watching movies with you and then analyzing everything with you coming up with your own series and just breaking it down and discussing it with you and he’d never get bored of doing that and I feel like you guys could be in a room together for like hours on end and he would never ever run out of things to talk to you about fandom wise, I feel like a modern alternate universe would definitely have Tumblr lol. you guys are like a match made and freaking heaven from how similar you guys are and I feel like he’d love discussing hypotheticals and scenarios with you like I said I just feel like you guys could really just go on a date look at stars talk to each other and it would be so fun like I just feel like you would get each other in way that no one else really could. Especially in that time period.

[kiforditom-szetszedem]

TheRuler Of The Universe

This is an excerpt from The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy by Douglas Adams. 

“In there?” shouted Trillian above the noise of the rain.

“Yes,” said Zarniwoop.

“That shack?”

“Yes.”

“Weird,” said Zaphod.

“But it’s in the middle of nowhere,” said Trillian, “we must have come to the wrong place. You can’t rule the Universe from a shack.”

They hurried through the pouring rain, and arrived, wet through, at the door. They knocked. They shivered.

The door opened.

“Hello?” said the man.

“Ah, excuse me,” said Zarniwoop, “I have reason to believe …”

“Do you rule the Universe?” said Zaphod.

The man smiled at him.

“I try not to,” he said, “Are you wet?”

Zaphod looked at him in astonishment.

“Wet?” he cried, “Doesn’t it look as if we’re wet?”

“That’s how it looks to me,” said the man, “but how you feel about it might be an altogether different matter. If you feel warmth makes you dry, you’d better come in.”

They went in.

They looked around the tiny shack, Zarniwoop with slight distaste, Trillian with interest, Zaphod with delight.

“Hey, er …” said Zaphod, “what’s your name?”

The man looked at them doubtfully.

“I don’t know. Why, do you think I should have one? It seems very odd to give a bundle of vague sensory perceptions a name.”

He invited Trillian to sit in the chair. He sat on the edge of the chair, Zarniwoop leaned stiffly against the table and Zaphod lay on the mattress.

“Wowee!” said Zaphod, “the seat of power!” He tickled the cat.

“Listen,” said Zarniwoop, “I must ask you some questions.” “Alright,” said the man kindly, “you can sing to my cat if you like.”

“Would he like that?” asked Zaphod.

“You’d better ask him,” said the man.

“Does he talk?” said Zaphod.

“I have no memory of him talking,” said the man, “but I am very unreliable.”

Zarniwoop pulled some notes out of a pocket.

“Now,” he said, “you do rule the Universe, do you?”

“How can I tell?” said the man.

Zarniwoop ticked off a note on the paper.

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Ah,” said the man, “this is a question about the past is it?”

Zarniwoop looked at him in puzzlement. This wasn’t exactly what he had been expecting.

“Yes,” he said.

“How can I tell,” said the man, “that the past isn’t a fiction designed to account for the discrepancy between my immediate physical sensations and my state of mind?”

Zarniwoop stared at him. The steam began to rise from his sodden clothes.

“So you answer all questions like this?” he said.

The man answered quickly.

“I say what it occurs to me to say when I think I hear people say things. More I cannot say.”

Zaphod laughed happily.

“I’ll drink to that,” he said and pulled out the bottle of Janx spirit. He leaped up and handed the bottle to the ruler of the Universe, who took it with pleasure.

“Good on you, great ruler,” he said, “tell it like it is.”

“No, listen to me,” said Zarniwoop, “people come to you do they? In ships …”

“I think so,” said the man. He handed the bottle to Trillian.

“And they ask you,” said Zarniwoop, “to take decisions for them? About people’s lives, about worlds, about economies, about wars, about everything going on out there in the Universe?” “Out there?” said the man, “out where?”

“Out there!” said Zarniwoop pointing at the door.

“How can you tell there’s anything out there,” said the man politely, “the door’s closed.”

The rain continued to pound the roof. Inside the shack it was warm.

“But you know there’s a whole Universe out there!” cried Zarniwoop. “You can’t dodge your responsibilities by saying they don’t exist!”

The ruler of the Universe thought for a long while whilst Zarniwoop quivered with anger.

“You’re very sure of your facts,” he said at last, “I couldn’t trust the thinking of a man who takes the Universe – if there is one – for granted.”

Zarniwoop still quivered, but was silent.

“I only decide about my Universe,” continued the man quietly. “My Universe is my eyes and my ears. Anything else is hearsay.”

“But don’t you believe in anything?”

The man shrugged and picked up his cat.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” he said.

“You don’t understand that what you decide in this shack of yours affects the lives and fates of millions of people? This is all monstrously wrong!”

“I don’t know. I’ve never met all these people you speak of. And neither, I suspect, have you. They only exist in words we hear. It is folly to say you know what is happening to other people. Only they know, if they exist. They have their own Universes of their own eyes and ears.”

Trillian said:

“I think I’m just popping outside for a moment.”

She left and walked into the rain.

“Do you believe other people exist?” insisted Zarniwoop.

“I have no opinion. How can I say?”

“I’d better see what’s up with Trillian,” said Zaphod and slipped out.

Outside, he said to her:

“I think the Universe is in pretty good hands, yeah?” “Very good,” said Trillian. They walked off into the rain.

Inside, Zarniwoop continued.

“But don’t you understand that people live or die on your word?”

The ruler of the Universe waited for as long as he could. When he heard the faint sound of the ship’s engines starting he spoke to cover it.

“It’s nothing to do with me,” he said, “I am not involved with people. The Lord knows I am not a cruel man.”

“Ah!” barked Zarniwoop, “you say `The Lord’. You believe in something!”

“My cat,” said the man benignly, picking it up and stroking it, “I call him The Lord. I am kind to him.”

“Alright,” said Zarniwoop, pressing home his point, “How do you know he exists? How do you know he knows you to be kind, or enjoys what he thinks of as your kindness?”

“I don’t,” said the man with a smile, “I have no idea. It merely pleases me to behave in a certain way to what appears to be a cat. Do you behave any differently? Please, I think I am tired.”

Zarniwoop heaved a thoroughly dissatisfied sigh and looked about.

“Where are the other two?” he said suddenly.

“What other two?” said the ruler of the Universe, settling back into his chair and refilling his whisky glass.

“Beeblebrox and the girl! The two who were here!”

“I remember no one. The past is a fiction to account for …”

“Stuff it,” snapped Zarniwoop and ran out into the rain. There was no ship. The rain continued to churn the mud. There was no sign to show where the ship had been. He hollered into the rain. He turned and ran back to the shack and found it locked.

The ruler of the Universe dozed lightly in his chair. After a while he played with the pencil and the paper again and was delighted when he discovered how to make a mark with the one on the other. Various noises continued outside, but he didn’t know whether they were real or not. He then talked to his table for a week to see how it would react.

[flashburneulogy]

Photographs, there are those who say they capture souls

To not allow your photo to be taken – lest it rips and tears a hole.

I never had the fear of my image being captured and still do not hold this concern – but now I stand here staring down a person I no longer know. Some days, when I see her there – she’s someone I can recall. Ever so faintly, in the back of my mind, a blip of something vile and small.

Other days I simply see a stranger, an odd defilement of what I am. No, not a stranger, something worse. A picture of a dead woman who once though she was me. A death mask of a person dead, who’s corpse I now occupy without reprieve.

 A woman who died, not understanding what was happening to her – and why she shouldn’t exist.

Some days, I pity her as one pities the dead. She died so, so sad – in agony and confusion. She died somewhere long ago, and I don’t even remember where she took her last breath – or where her invisible corpse was left to rest.

I think in a way, she would have wanted that. Looking at pictures, remembering all the things that went on inside of her head. The more consciousness she grew, the more her mind rebelled – aware that she was somehow wrong for existing. Because she was never meant to exist, and yet she did.

And somehow, she always knew, even when she said she didn’t. She’d sit there, wishing she could peel off her skin – sliding layers from her body till she found something new and different underneath. For years, she wished that there was some curse – some way to twist herself from her natural form – regress to something with salivating fangs and glowing eyes and a harsh, coarse whisper.

She’d have rather been a monster then be what she was, she’d have rather have been anything else then be what she was.

She wanted to die.

She said it before, said it was the depression and it was. But that was never the only reason she wanted to leave this mortal coil. Because to live in a world where she appeared just fine, yet knew that something was rotted out inside of her. To exist in a universe where if you simply looked at her, she appeared healthy – when she knew that she was already dead.

It was agonizing.

I only see her in photographs now, and my feelings remain so mixed. She looks happy, she smiles, but I know the truth – know what was happening behind that mask. Knew that slowly she was being poisoned, existing as she was.

I wish I knew when she died, I wish I knew when I stop seeing her in photographs. Wish I knew when her face goes from something living to a breathing corpse, trying to find the right incantation to return back to life. Like something rising from the dead – I grow into what I should have been all along.

She was me, I was her, yet somewhere we diverged.

Her ghost needs to be put to rest, final rites must be observed for her – lest she linger like an angry spirit, furious at me for continuing to live without her. She never got to be happy, is never going to be happy. 

I feel I hear her screaming, she never got to be calm.

She was scared, and stressed, and angry – and then she died, and somehow that’s all my fault. My fault for letting her die, or maybe letting her exist in the first place. I can’t look at her anymore sometimes, don’t want to see her face. She’s separated out from me, but still somehow she manages to get in my way.

Too many still see my face, and think that they see her. How do I tell them that she died never really being heard?

I’m sorry to you, I really am – and worse I know that in the end, your worst fears were realized.

Everyone dies alone, though I hear people argue that’s not true. But you always knew that’s how you’d go, alone, and scared and silently screaming for help that would never come.

When she tumbled down that mountain on her snowboard, when she failed to keep her balance and went careening down in pure panic, she uttered two words that would never be heard by anyone but her.

‘Help me’

Those were, as effective there as they were for her throughout her entire life. You always knew that; from the day you went from child to teen. You knew your death would be unnatural and you would go unseen – pleading for life, even as you found you barely wanted it.

And I’m sorry that you died that way – left somewhere along my road. I can’t give closure even to your ghost. I’m sorry that I left you alone in that cold for so long, I’m sorry I still sometimes hate you even though you’re gone.

I give you back now to that dark oblivion that’s claimed you, I’m sorry that I have to but there’s just no way to save you. Even if I wanted to keep a little piece of you, your bodies full of rot and poison and it wouldn’t be safe to do.

Go back to that unmarked grave, were you died, curled up and scared of the world beyond. Go back to that tomb of dirt, now buried under the cold embrace of time. Mummified clutching at yourself as you felt the cold slowly take you.

I’ll be the one who keeps your face, till that too I rid myself of – and then go on to be myself, leaving you a memory.

No, not a memory.

A photograph.

[skylarmoon71]

Lance Sweets (Bones) - Crossover AU - Chapter 19

The ride has been a bit silent. 

Your eyes are directed at the expanse of greenery as Sweets drives through the small towns of Kansas. You never expected to find anything. When you started this little trip you told yourself to go in with minimum expectations. It was a bit pessimistic, but you were terrified if you got your hopes up that it would be all just a waste. But the results had turned out to be much better than anything that you could have hoped for.

If it wasn’t Sweets’s pestering nature, you would have never had the courage to even pursue this. Your gaze drifts and he’s staring ahead with a smile on his face. 

He looks pretty content.

It feels like a lot has changed in such a short time.

That is the case, but you can't help but recall what Clark said.

Krypton was destroyed because of a war, a selfish act for power. There’s a reflection of that here in humanity.

War, death, pain, suffering.

It feels endless, exhausting.

Your eyes drift to your lap and you lean back, exhaling as you close your eyes. Your hope is that when you open them, this will make sense.

~~

“Come on Sweets, spill the beans. What happened? How was the vacation?”

Angela is trying to press for information. All you had really told the team is that you were traveling in hopes of finding a lost relative which wasn’t exactly a lie. The unplanned vacation didn’t seem suspicious to them, and he was thankful for that. He thought that when you came back it would all be okay. You had answers, a lot more than when you first came.

Those first few days you looked so ecstatic just to be around Clark. But on the trip back he noticed it, the distance. He’d given you space each time you spoke with Clark because he knew how important it was.

But your last conversation must have been different, because he saw the tears that you’d tried so hard to hide when you both had gone back to the hotel that night.

He didn’t press, but now he’s becoming worried because they haven't seen much of you in the last two days. That’s why Angela is now interrogating him.

The times that your paths did collide you would give him that distant smile and carry on.

Like you were drowning in pain.

“I have to go Angela, excuse me.”

He didn’t explain, and he decided at that moment that he needed to speak with you. Anymore distance would gut him. If you got further away, he wasn’t sure how he would handle that.

Rushing up the stairs, he heads straight for your office. You were probably barricaded inside. He’s so sure when he marches over there, but the second he’s in front of the door he’s a bit terrified, because he doesn’t know what’s waiting for him on the other side of the door.

With one even breath, he knocks, reaching for the knob as he opens the door.

The startled way you move is another indication that something is wrong. You turn a bit flustered, wearing a smile that lacks any kind of joy.

“Dr. Sweets, how can I help you?”

Your words feel so stiff, and he closes the door.

There’s no reason for him to be coy. He needs to be upfront and say what’s on his mind.

“You’ve been off since we got back. At first you seemed fine but I know something is wrong.”

That flushed expression quickly becomes defensive.

“Don’t profile me.”

You look angry, and he realizes that he must be right.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong!”

The fact that you’re now yelling proves that isn’t the truth. You huff, turning your head.

It’s wrong to take it out on him.

Lowering your head, you sigh.

Sweets just stands there, waiting for something.

For you to ask for help, for you to lean on him with whatever has been tearing you up inside.

Your staggered steps moved to the couch. You sit, if nothing but to anchor yourself.

“It was a stupid war. One of my own people was so hellbent on gaining power that he destroyed our whole planet. Innocent men, women and children, they were all sacrificed. No matter where we go, beings on any plane, any universe they are all the same. We’re all corrupted foolish beings and we don’t deserve any of this.”

You’re full on crying and Sweets moves closer, shaking his head.

“That’s not true.”

Your frown deepens.

“You don’t even believe that. What about your past, what they did to you. You were just a child. Why are we all so evil?”

His smile is sad as you sit there sobbing.

“If you were truly evil, you wouldn’t be asking such a question.”

When he looks at you he sees it. You’d spent so long thinking of life a certain way. You convinced yourself that no one could be trusted, and he can’t say that he truly blames you. He understands.

“Life is messy, death is unavoidable regardless of where you are. That doesn’t mean we should stop trying. If the good people stop being good, if we stop trying, then the truly evil people in this world, they win. Our job is to keep that balance in hope that one day, the goodness that we have will be all that exists. It’s a ridiculous dream, but if we give up on it, then it’s the same as accepting that there is no good in this world or any other. “

You want to believe it, what he says.

“Is that true?”

You can’t help but ask.

“It has to be.”

[blainesebastian]

misunderstandings & miscommunication (ccg universe)

words: 2,963 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (anon request) “fight/angst request silent treatment or him being snappy type” notes: part of the coffee cart girl universe but can be read alone :) if you’d like to be added to a general tag list, please let me know! warnings: none tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylesmendeshearted, @rairaielv,

Here’s the thing about Austin as a boyfriend—he’s protective. Not in a way that could be construed as possessive or anything that makes you completely uncomfortable but that he loves you and couldn’t fathom bad things happening to you, especially when he can prevent them. In all honesty, you do love that about him, that he’s so often looking out for you, stepping in when you need it. Sometimes it’s small things too, it’s not always this big gesture, or even words that he says. When in a larger group of people, like when you’re out at bars, or when you run into a small group of paps or fans, Austin is quick to keep one hand on your waist, your lower back, his hand slipping into yours.

That constant stance of quiet support and comfort.

But this doesn’t mean that you can’t take care of yourself.

It started out as a relatively normal night—you and Austin decided that you wanted to go out to bar, get some drinks, hang out and actually enjoy a shared day off together. Nothing too over the top, but fun, something loose to be in one another’s company, feel like a couple that’s not always catching one another at the last moment or playing phone tag. Maybe even…end the night in bed with a carton of ice cream, a bottle of wine, and something else.

And yet, here you are, annoyed…staring at this guy Pete in confusion because, “What are you talking about?”

This is not the first time you’ve spoken to Pete for a length of time—he’s a small-time actor that swims in similar circles that Austin does. Meaning that you’ve run into him a handful of events, award shows, wrap parties, things like that. He seems decent enough? Maybe a tad bit too flirty sometimes but…unfortunately men don’t always care, or know how, to turn off that part of their brain when you’re not interested. Austin doesn’t seem the fondest of him? but he’s never really gone into any details. Besides, you’re not going to be that person that just flat out gives Pete the cold shoulder if he comes up to you with pleasantries. You can at least be nice? Exchange some stories.

What’s that really hurt?

But…

Pete just winces, taking another sip of beer as he glances over your shoulder. Austin’s currently in the bathroom while you’re at the bar, “I shouldn’t have even said anything.”

“No,” You shake your head, “Are you saying Austin told you…”

He nods slowly and there’s definitely a touch of awkwardness on his part now, “Yeah uh, he just it’d be better if we didn’t talk anymore.”

And you’re…not even sure how to deal with that? You’re really confused as to why Austin would be saying that in general, let alone what it has to do with Pete. You’re gonna ask, get to the bottom of this whole thing, but admittedly you’re kinda annoyed that…not only is Austin telling people these things, but that he didn’t tell you he’s said them. There’s this irrationally angry part of you that spews out questions in your head as Pete says his goodnights and wanders to another part of the bar—does Austin not trust you? Does he not think that you can handle yourself? Why wouldn’t he tell you what he’s said to Pete? Wouldn’t he know that there was a good chance you’d run into one another again? That Pete would tell you? Was this all just a giant misunderstanding?

Shaking your head, you take a long sip of your drink and look over your shoulder as Austin comes back from the bathroom, slipping onto the stool next to you where his jean jacket is. He slips an arm around your waist, tilting his head down a bit so he can talk to you in the crowded, louder space of the bar. It never fails to create a shiver that goes down your spine, the pleasant scent of his cologne wafting to your nose.

“Was thinkin’ we should do pizza after this, before we go home. Literally nothin’ stoppin’ us from ordering an extra-large pie to split between us.”

You know better than to get into some kind of argument right here in the middle of a bar on a date night, and yet you feel that same irritation curl up heatedly in the base of your stomach, like fire licking at the bottom of your ribcage.

“Yeah, just gotta pay the tab,” You finish your drink with a final sip and the words leave your mouth before you can register them on your tongue, “You might have to though in case the bartender isn’t allowed to talk to me.”

Austin’s mouth opens and closes a bit like a goldfish, you can tell he’s confused but that he can definitely feel the hostility coming off your body in waves. He shifts on the stool, facing you a bit better,

“You wanna unpack that for me?”

And yet he seems to settle within the realization as you reply, “I’m not sure why you’re goin’ around tellin’ guys to avoid me. I can handle myself.” You take a breath, tapping your fingers on the bar, “I didn’t ask you to do that, Austin. What do you just—have a list of people who can’t talk to me?”

There’s a moment in which he straightens his shoulders and you’re really glad you don’t have to tell him it’s Pete, he obviously knows, but to your surprise? He doesn’t apologize. Instead, he stands his ground. He shakes his head, glancing away from you for a moment as the muscle in his jaw works. He pulls his wallet out, throwing some bills on the bar as he chews on words not yet shifted from behind his teeth.

“For the record—I didn’t tell him to avoid you,” Austin’s tone is kinda icy, standoffish, and it’s there that you realize this conversation for whatever reason has pressed on a nerve, “I said if all he’s gonna do is flirt with you then it’d be better if he just didn’t talk to you at all.”

He pulls himself from the barstool, grabbing his jean jacket to slide his arms through. You follow suit, making sure you have your purse before you both weave your way through the crowded bar and out. The air has a bit of a bite to it but it’s nice compared to the stuffiness of being inside. Or maybe the cool breeze kissing your face makes the conversation feel less suffocating.

You try to figure out the best way to put this. It’s not that you don’t appreciate the sentiment or Austin looking out for you, because of course you do, but—

“I don’t need you speaking for me.” Because you can handle things on your own, you’re more than capable.

You’d ask Austin to step in and say something if that didn’t work, if Pete somehow crossed a line. You understand that your boyfriend doesn’t want it to even get to that point? But making this call and then doing it behind your back, not talking to you at all about it? That rubs you the wrong way.

A good relationship has communication, right?

And you feel like you have to be missing something because while Austin has a hot anger, a temper, he never has that short fuse with you. But instead of the conversation winding down, it keeps spiraling up, a constant simmer.

“Oh right, wouldn’t want to stop you from talkin’ to Pete,” He rolls his eyes, “Putting up with the consistent hitting on you, him blatantly just pretendin’ you’re single.”

Your eyebrows draw together and you almost ask, what is going on with you? but your brain spurs the banter forward, “It doesn’t matter if Pete thinks I’m single or not, Austin! Because I know that I’m not, and so do you.” You scoff, throwing your hands up a bit in exasperation,

“Do you not trust me?” This is beginning to branch off into something else entirely, “Obviously I would never entertain him doing that.” You shake your head, running a few frustrated fingers through your hair, “Besides, that’s—that’s not what I’m upset about, not talking to him anymore. I’m upset that you spoke for me—I can take care of my own messes if they pop up.”

“Fine,” Austin snaps, “Be my guest.”

He turns and begins walking down the street, getting to the corner and crossing and it takes you a moment to realize that he’s…he’s just leaving you. Outside this bar. It doesn’t matter that you both walked a short distance from your place to here but that…he’s never done that before. He’s never just left you.

You scoff almost in disbelief, standing there for a few moments as his sharp voice still rings against your eardrums. You almost feel slightly frozen in place, like your feet have sprout roots in which you can’t move from this spot in front of the bar. Swallowing over a lump in your throat, you take a slow step back, turning in the opposite direction and begin walking.

You get about halfway to Jillian’s apartment before you feel the wetness on your cheeks from crying.

--

The morning comes far too fast and it feels like you’ve been hit with a truck when you wake up, slowly sitting up in bed as if your limbs might suddenly detach from your body. This isn’t from being hungover, either, though the feeling is similar. You and Austin never really get into arguments like this—it’s not like you haven’t had disagreements or said something that you’ve regretted but apologized for.

You’ve never gone out of your way to spend the night at a friend’s just so you didn’t have to be in the same apartment with him. Usually you’re trying to find any and all ways just to get a bit closer, because being with him is sometimes not enough.

You try not to guilt yourself into feeling too awful because your emotions are valid, what you brought up is relevant and deserves a conversation. It just…shouldn’t have gone like that. Wrong place and time, wrong everything.

“You want some coffee?” Jillian asks as you get ready to leave, making sure you have your wallet and keys as you push your feet back into your shoes.

Shaking your head lightly, you motion to the door, “Nah I’m gonna go home,” You give her a gentle smile, “Thank you.”

She waves you off, running a hand through her wild red hair, “Anytime, you know that. Tell your boyfriend that this is my least favorite version of him,” She crinkles her nose, “Throwin’ tantrums and shit.”

You laugh lightly, shaking your head, “Yeah, not my favorite either.” You give her a small wave as you walk towards the door, “Bye.”

You take your time headed back home, stop at a café for a coffee and breakfast sandwich, get yourself together as much as you can as if you actually got some sleep last night (which, of course, you didn’t). You’re kinda nervous to walk back through your shared apartment door and maybe that’s…silly and unfounded, right? For some reason, even after this time with Austin, you’re worried he might realize that he could do a lot better than you and just up and leave.

That you’ll go home to an empty apartment.

Running a hand over your face, you shake the ridiculous thought out of your head and do your best to swallow your insecurities. You know what your relationship means to Austin, what it means to be with him, how much he loves you and vice versa.

One little confusing argument isn’t going to change that.

You finally make your way back, unlocking the door and toeing your shoes off. As you pocket your keys in your jacket, you pause as you glance in the living room at the movement. Austin stands from the couch and…it’s clear that he’s slept there, most likely so he could hear you come in, blankets and pillows from the bedroom hanging over the cushions.

Your heart definitely clenches at seeing that, seeing him—despite how things were left last night, you missed him. You love him. It doesn’t look like he’s slept very well which you can relate to. Letting out a slow breath, you let the front door close and walk into the living room, the silence sitting on your chest like a cinder block.

“I uh, I slept at Jillian’s.” You say after a moment, clearing your throat.

Austin nods, running a hand through his hair, “I saw—I was worried so I uh, checked your location when you didn’t come home.”

You swallow down a bout of guilt, shaking your head, “I should have texted you.”

Austin’s eyebrows draw together before he’s gently waving you off, “You had every right not to, not after how I was actin’.” He sighs, tipping his head back slightly as he walks closer to where you’re standing, “I should have never left you outside that bar like that, no matter what’s goin’ on or how I’m feelin’, I don’t do that.”

You watch him a moment as he apologizes and you know he feels genuinely bad, that he’s sorry, that whatever emotions he was feeling just completely overwhelmed him. Sometimes there might not be anything else to say, no other choice to make other than walking away.

But you appreciate the promise in his voice, that there won’t be a next time.

Running a hand through your hair, you want nothing more than to get into your pjs, maybe crawl into bed and actually sleep for a few hours. Tiredly, you offer him a small smile and a nod, the conversation not over but you’re not sure if you can hash it all out right now. Though when you get into the bedroom and begin to undress, you look over your shoulder and watch as Austin leans against the doorframe, his eyes on you—tired too, but concerned, relieved, in love, so many emotions all at once.

“What was going on last night?” You ask him, wanting the truth, to explain his side of things.

You tug off the outfit you had on and quickly trade it for some leggings, one of Austin’s sweaters that fit long on you. Pushing your slightly static-y hair out of your face, you pull the sleeves of the sweater over your hands as you turn to face him. Waiting.

Austin lets out a soft sigh as he steps into the bedroom, running a hand over the lower half of his face as he considers his words, “I had a friend who told me that Pete was all over his girlfriend at a party he had. She was a little drunk and when she came out of bathroom, I guess Pete was there tryin’ to push her back in.”

There’s a small stretch of silence for a moment before Austin shakes his head, his blue eyes finding yours,

“Seemed kinda chaotic and my friend said things were a bit unclear when he found them but…his girlfriend was upset and Pete had a bunch of excuses.”

You feel sick to your stomach, can’t quite look Austin in the face. You suppose you could have just trusted that Austin tried to create distance between you and Pete for a reason, but…hindsight is always 20/20. How could you have known, really, that all of this had happened with Pete? You were so upset last night about the lack of communication, that maybe Austin didn’t trust you.

You can’t help but wonder what would have happened if things had gone differently. If you’d been slightly more drunk or…had gone back into the bar, alone.

“I would literally lose it on him if I saw that happen to you,” Austin says and you sigh, taking a few steps to close the distance between you. Reaching out, you gently touch his arm in support. “I circled back to the bar last night after I walked about a block, made sure you weren’t there—then I saw you were at Jillian’s.”

It warms you right in the center of your chest that Austin came back to look for you. It just feels like this whole thing never should have happened in the first place.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” You ask.

Austin lets out a scoff mixed with a short laugh as he runs his fingers through your hair, pushing it over your shoulder. Both of his palms rest on your shoulders, “Ironically to avoid an argument like this. I knew you’d be upset that I spoke for you—was just hopin’ we wouldn’t see him again.”

You wrap your arms around his waist, leaning into him until you fit directly underneath his chin. Austin keeps you close, his hands tracing circles up and down your back as his head dips down to press a kiss to your shoulder and temple.

“In this case I’m glad you did.” You mumble, closing your eyes as you breathe him in, memorize the way his body feels against yours, the scent of his cologne mixed with his skin.

“I’m sorry,” He apologizes again, whispers it against the skin of your forehead before placing a kiss there.

A small smile tugs on the corners of your lips, tilting your head up to look at him, “Me too.” Your hand rests on his chest before tugging on his t-shirt, “We can…make it up to one another by getting back into bed?”

Austin smirks before nodding, pressing a kiss to your lips. He encourages you to back up until you both end up tumbling onto the mattress.

[sluttywonwoo]

study buddies || k.mg x reader

Pairing: frat!mingyu x fem reader 

Summary: studying for midterms with the guy you’re hooking up with goes exactly how you’d expect

Warnings: swearing, light smut (18+)

Word Count: 1.6k

a/n: reworked this old blurb originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark ) for my gf’s birthday :)) happy birthday @hotgirlmingyu

Masterlist

You woke up to banging on your apartment door. Groaning, you rolled over to check your phone and saw that it was six am. You pushed yourself up and out of bed and padded into the kitchen to answer the door. You were surprised the relentless knocking hadn’t woken up your roommate, but she was a pretty heavy sleeper.

You yanked the door open to see Mingyu with a handful of textbooks. You squinted at him in confusion, wondering if you were seeing things. Mingyu had never been to your place before, you didn’t even know he knew where you lived.

His appearance startled you a bit. His hair was messy where it was usually slicked back or styled and he was wearing gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him in anything other than khakis and a douchey printed shirt.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, rubbing your eyes.

He frowned. “You said we should study for midterms together.”

You thought back to the last time you’d seen Mingyu. You couldn’t remember saying anything like that.

“Was I drunk?”

“Probably.”

“So why are you here?”

“To study. You agreed that we could help each other out.”

“Mingyu, I don’t even remember agreeing to that.”

“Well I’m already here,” he said and pushed past you into your apartment.

“Seriously? It’s Saturday.”

“Yeah, and midterms are next week.”

“Couldn’t you have waited until the sun was up?” you grumbled, mostly to yourself and shut the door behind him.

“We’ve got a lot of material to cover.”

You cursed under your breath as you watched him set up at your kitchen table, knowing you should probably study even though you desperately wanted to go back to bed.

You and Mingyu had met at a party at his fraternity and woke up the next morning tangled in the sheets of his bed. To say it was awkward would have been an understatement. You didn’t think you’d ever see him again, but to your horror, you saw him in your stats lecture on Monday and your mythology class on Thursday. This was a pretty big university. Why did the same asshole have to be in two of your classes?

As much as it annoyed you, you couldn’t stop thinking about Mingyu, and apparently, he was having a similar dilemma because every time you went out he seemed to be there, and every time you hooked up.

That was the extent of your relationship, though. You didn’t even speak to each other in class or at parties. The only time you talked was behind closed doors when one or both of you was naked. Even then you kept your guard up because you refused to let yourself fall for a frat boy with commitment issues who never wanted to be seen with the same girl twice. A boy who wouldn’t even talk to you in public.

But you couldn’t ignore the way your heart fluttered when he said your name as he was about to cum, or the way his lips felt against yours. He could be a total dick, but you’d also seen a softer side of him that he didn’t show many people. You forced yourself to forget about that side. It was easier that way.

“Okay, what are we starting with?” you asked with a sigh.

“We have the stats exam first, we should work on that.”

You made a face. Statistics was the harder out of the two for you. In fact, it was the hardest class you were taking this semester.

“I can’t believe I’m doing math before seven am.”

“You won’t be complaining when you ace the midterm,” he quipped, already working on a practice worksheet.

You watched him solve problems like he was checking items off a list. You knew he was good at statistics, but you didn’t know he was that good. Figures, a guy like him was good at pretty much everything. Everything except mythology apparently, because once you’d switched to that he was flustered and frustrated. You would quiz him on myths only for him to get every single question wrong.

“Mingyu, did you even read any of these?” you asked, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Yes, y/n, I read every one. How do you think I passed all the reading quizzes?”

“Cheating?” it slipped out before you could stop it and Mingyu gave you a hard glare. You held up your hands defensively. “Just a joke.”

“I don’t think it was.” He licked his lips. “But for what it’s worth I read them all. I just can’t keep them straight.”

You sighed. You felt bad, but you were getting frustrated too. And not just because Mingyu wasn’t grasping the myths. This was the longest you’d ever spent together (at least while you were awake) and you hadn’t even had sex. He just smelled so nice and looked so cute when he was concentrating that you couldn’t help feeling a little impatient. You had been at it for hours, you thought you would’ve done it at least once by now. But Mingyu was more serious about studying than you thought. It was kind of admirable and kind of annoying.

“Okay well reread through the Egyptian myths and I’ll quiz you again.”

“Alright.”

He pulled out his reading packet and flipped to the section you took out your phone and scrolled through social media mindlessly as he read, but it quickly got boring. You wished Mingyu would take a break so he could rail you. He was still reading intently, but you figured a little distraction couldn’t hurt.

You started by taking your hair down from your bun and shaking it out so that it fell around your shoulders. You knew your shampoo drove Mingyu crazy and hoped it would have an effect on him today. He shifted his seat, but didn’t look up from the packet. Next, you leaned over and rested your head on his shoulder. You’d never done something so domestic like this with Mingyu, but it seemed to work because he cleared his throat and adjusted his sweatpants.

“You know you could be working on math.”

You shrugged. “We already did stats for hours today. I think I’ll jump off a bridge if I look at one more differential equation.”

He fell silent and tried focusing back onto the reading, but you moved your hand to his thigh and kept it there as you continued to through twitter, not even reading what was on your screen.

“Stop that,” Mingyu muttered, making you jump a little.

“Why?”

“Fuck, because you’re distracting me. You look too hot right now.”

“I’m wearing pajamas.”

“I really don’t care. You still look hot and I’m trying not to fuck you senseless right now.”

“Well what’s stopping you?” you asked lowly and nipped at his ear.

“Need to finish this,” he replied through gritted teeth.

“I can’t convince you to take a break?” You moved the hand on his leg up so that you were cupping him over his pants.

He shook his head. “After.”

You leaned over and kissed his neck, then his jaw, and felt him get hard under your hand. “If I have to stop what I’m doing you won’t be able to walk for the next week.”

“That sounds like more of a motivator than a deterrent,” you admitted. “I’ll suck you off,” you offered and hooked your thumb in the waistband of his sweats, trying to bribe him.

“If you let me finish I’ll eat you out,” he countered.

You straightened up. It sounded like a pretty good deal.

“Fine.”

A few minutes passed in silence and you were waiting patiently, typing up a rough draft of an essay you had due for another class when Mingyu groaned.

“What?” you asked, wondering if he needed help.

“Can you please stop that?”

“Stop what? I’m literally doing nothing.” You were genuinely confused now.

“Just- I don’t know you’re making it so hard to concentrate.”

“Am I making it hard?” You smirked.

“Very funny.”

“Would it help if I put a paper bag over my head?”

“Probably.”

“Come on, keep reading about Osiris.”

“I don’t want to read about Osiris anymore, he’s a dick.”

“The faster you finish the faster you can get off.”

“I thought you didn’t want to wait,” Mingyu pointed out, trying to deflect.

“I think I recall something about you going down on me if I let you finish reading.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, but didn’t turn back to the book. Instead, he continued to gaze at you with those big brown eyes. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“What?” You felt your cheeks get warm.

“I just really want to kiss you right now.”

You smiled and raised your chin, challenging him. “Then do it.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. You closed your eyes and kissed him back, savoring the moment.

When you pulled away, Mingyu’s eyes were dark with want and you could see that he was now fully hard in his sweatpants.

“How about I eat you out now anyway?” He suggested, leaning forward to kiss your neck.

You moaned and brought your hands to his hair.

“You trying to bribe me?”

“Is it working?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Mingyu stood and picked you up from your chair. You wrapped your legs around his waist again. He pulled on your bottom lip with his teeth and smirked.

“Promise you’ll finish studying after?” you asked.

He considered it. “Does what we’re about to do count as studying mythology? Because it’s going to be legendary.”

You scrunched up your face in distaste. “No, I take it back. Put me down.”

Mingyu grinned. “Hey! You know no ones gives it to you as good as I do.”

“That confident are you?”

His grin turned into a smirk. “Is that a challenge?”

lmk what you think i always appreciated feedback!!

forever tags: @haven-cove

shoot me an ask to be added/removed from my taglist

[artzee-bee]

Not going anywhere | Lucifer Morningstar x reader

Fandom: Lucifer

Request:” Hi i have request for you ,Lucifer and the reader have a big fight they are married, and this fight it's lucifer fault The reader leaves home and Lucifer decides to give her space After a few days, he goes to the reader and realizes that she has been missing for a few days,When the person behind all this claims that the reader is dead and gives them a her body . Everyone thinks that the reader is dead and Lucifer He gets depressed and thinks it's all his fault , and after a few days, the thieves release the singer and the reader goes to Lucifer.Lucifer first thinks it is an imagination and then apologizes to the reader Thank you so much”

Genre: Angst with happy ending

Warnings: kidnapping, death

~~~

Your intention had never been to start a fight. All you wanted an explanation (preferably one that also made sense) and an apology, but apparently that was too much to ask, because as soon as you voiced your opinion, Lucifer went up in flames

“Don’t start this again!”

“I dislike it just as much as you do but what I hate more is being cancelled on, AGAIN, through a text message no less!”

“It was an emergency!”

“It’s always an emergency Lucifer! It’s starting to sound a lot like work means more to you than I do!” “The detective needs me, damn it!” your husband yelled

“And she has you! Every day of every week! All I ask for is one date night and for the past month you’ve done nothing but avoid committing to one or backing out at the last second! I’m tired of being your second choice Lucifer! I’m your wife and you are my husband, I love you to the ends of the world, I just wish you'd say no to Decker from time to time...”

“I’m saving people’s lives Y/N. So if you’re not on your deathbed, other people are and they need me now!” as he said this, Lucifer walked right past you and into your bedroom, seemingly ignorant to the painful words he’d just said. You looked around the living room, vision blurry with tears, your chest heavy with anger and disgust. You rushed towards the elevator.

“When you find time in your busy schedule and feel like being my spouse again, let me know!” the elevator door closed before Lucifer could say anything

~~~

When Lucifer woke up the next morning to a cold and empty bed, he didn’t think much of it.Truthfully, he was still kind of pissed at the attitude you had given him a day before, so he got dressed as usual and went to the precinct, assuming you’ll be home by nightfall.

Except when he got home that night, he stopped by Lux first, which ended up like it always does: with him sucked into an endless cycle of booze and dancing, that lasted until well into the night. When he did enter the penthouse eventually, he found it empty. Exactly the way he had left it in the morning. Even the tie he had left on the floor, after deciding last minute that it didn’t go with his suit, was untouched. Now this was curious, but still, Lucifer felt like you must be playing hard to get. He sent you one text message, before going to bed

“Call me when you can!”

The day after that, he figured his part was done! By reaching out first, he had already made a big compromise, so now it was your turn! To reach out, come home! But that didn’t happen that day, or the day after that.

Three days after the text message,Lucifer was getting worried. He was looking at his phone every other minute. Always making sure he hadn’t accidently put it on silent or missed any texts. He sent more messages, telling you he was sorry and that he wanted you to come home. That he would listen and spend more time with you, promising luxurious dates and weekend trips, if only you forgave him. You didn’t even open the messages.

“Lucifer are you listening?” Decker was insanely annoyed at her partner’s lack of concentration

“Sorry detective. I’ve...I’ve got a lot on my mind”

“Well, better get it out of the way now, so that we can move on to our case!” she said, cleaning out her desk quickly, before resting back into her chair “Talk to me!”

“It’s Y/N. I’m worried about her!”

“Why?” “We...had a fight a couple days ago and she left. She hasn’t come back since”

“Have you heard from her at all?”

“No…” Lucifer said, embarrassed at his own lack of care for you. He should have called you earlier, reached out more! He should have tried harder!

“How long had she been missing for?”

“4...maybe 5 days…”

“Lucifer, are you sane? And you’re only telling me now?!” Chloe jumped from her seat, turning on her computer

“I thought she needed space! I thought she was avoiding me intentionally cause she was angry! I didn’t know…” Lucifer choked back a sob, not wanting to break down in tears in the middle of the precinct

“Lucifer!” Chloe caught hold of his hand “I’m gonna find her! I promise you!” A few days later, she did. Well, more like Y/n came to her, in the shape of a pretty little gift box left on Decker's doorstep.

“A lil too late on your case detective” read the note attached to it. 

Inside were Y/N’s clothes, all of them stained with dark, dried blood. Y/N was declared dead that day and the case was closed. At her funeral, only her closests friends were present. Lucifer wanted it to be as intimate as possible.

That day was also the first time anyone had seen Lucifer, since the news. His eyes were bloodshot and the dark circles under his eyes almost matched the black suit he was wearing. Throughout the ceremony he kept twisting his wedding band, a habit he’d picked up on since you went missing. He chose not to do a speech, but once the crowd disappeared, and he was left face to face with your grave, he pulled out a little piece of paper from his pocket and sat down on the grass.

“In hell, everyone feared me. There, I was nothing but another server of the universe, ruling over an empire I never really wanted, because I never had a choice. So eventually I left, thinking anywhere will be better than what I had, and I came to earth.

I ran into you about 2 weeks later, before I really even knew how to behave myself. Before I knew anything about who I really was besides ‘the devil’. I longed to know, grow and discovers different sides of me, where I could be something new, and you gave it to me. You made me who I never thought I could possibly be. You made me a lover. I never thought of myself as capable to love anyone, in any degree, but your light shone everywhere you went and your kindness touched me and everyone around you. It became impossible to not get infatuated with your person. I allowed you to see and feel around every dark corner of my soul and being and every time I thought it was the end. Everytime I would take in your touch as if it was the last, I would prepare myself for abandonment, but it never came. Through everything you stood by my side and when I felt my darkest, you gave me a fistful of your light and that was enough to keep me going. You married a broken man and called him perfect, despite everyone telling you how much of a foul you were. Even then, you shooed them away. Even then you chose me. I wasn’t worthy of your love or your trust and our last night together proved it.

You’re not here anymore to hear my apologies and I’ll never forgive myself for it. You’ve gone now somewhere I can not follow, but I know you are well taken care of there. I hope, someway, somehow, you’ll hear these words: I am sorry. I loved you with my entire soul. Not listening to you was the biggest mistake of my life and I’ll never forgive myself. I choose however, to remember you as you were, because I know that’s what you’d want. I’ll remember you and your laugh.I’ll remember our date nights and shopping sprees. Nights in Lux or on the penthouse balcony. I’ll remember all the meals you prepared for me and the flirtatious remarks you used to make, because you thought they were so silly. I’ll remember the little frown on your face whenever you worked on an important project for work and I’ll remember every evening walk around the block you’d make me accompany you on. I know I always complained about them, but they were always fun. Everything I ever did with you was always fun.

I loved you. I still do. You are my everything Y/N. Thank you for devoting yourself to me in all the ways that you did. I’ll forever live on in my heart.“

~~~

It had been months since your disappearance. After all this time, you finally managed to escape your kidnappers and report them to the New York police station, since that’s where you had been held hostage for so long. As soon as the paperwork was done and you were sure that the people who ruined you were getting the punishment they deserved, you jumped on a train and headed straight back home. Straight to Lucifer.

Lux looked exactly the same as you had left it. You were washed over by a wave of comfort that almost brought you to tears. Home. You never thought you’d get to step in here again. Overwhelmed, you took a seat on one of the couches, allowing your head to rest back on it, as you took in every detail of your surroundings: the feel of the leather on your fingertips, the cool breeze of the air conditioning, the warm lights. Everything was still here.

“Y/N?” you jumped at the sound

“Hi love…” your voice broke as you said those words. Words you never thought you would be able to mutter again. The sight of your husband, messy as he was, made you weak in the knees. He was standing at the top of the staircase, dressed in nothing but his robe, tied carelessly around his waist. He had probably just woken up. You wanted to say something again, but before you could, he laughed

“Nope” he said simply, before making his way down the stairs and to the bar “I’m not doing this. Not today, not ever!” Lucifer filled his glass to the top with bourbon, before turning around and trying to leave back to where he came from

“Lucifer, it's me!”

“Sure you are, except you’re not real! Nice of dad, taking my ability to stay endlessly sober, getting me drunk, forcing visions of my dead wife onto me to teach me another lesson about managing my emotions. Real clever, except this is too much! So I’m going to enter that elevator and I expect to never have to see you again, hum? Right, well, au revoir now!” he continued on his way, but before he could get far, you were clutching on the silk tie of his robe. Lucifer felt the tug around his waist and turned around slowly to look at you, this time a little more unsure. As if he was trying to figure you out

“Lucifer, I’m Y/N. I escaped”

“Escaped? But that’s impossible, she died! I saw it-”

“What you saw was a bloody shirt!” he looked up to meet your gaze, tears already forming “They lied to you Lucifer”

Finally, it seemed like he had connected all of the pieces of the puzzle. The glass of alcohol fell to the ground and your husband wrapped you in a big hug for the first time in months. He nuzzled his head in your hair and took in your scent, your figure, your warmth. Hell, you were even more perfect that he remembered! Silent tears fell down both of your cheeks as you collapsed to the ground, still holding onto each other for dear life

“I’m so sorry” Lucifer sobbed in your hair “I’m so so sorry”

“It wasn’t your fault Luci”

“If I hadn’t been a jerk you wouldn’t have left! If I would have simply listened to you, they wouldn’t have gotten to you! You would’ve stayed here, where you belong! You would have stayed with me but instead I was too busy with my stupid job and the stupid cases and I’m sorry! I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry” he continued crying on your shoulder as you rubbed small circles on his back

“I’m here now my love” you whispered, kissing his cheek “And I’m not going anywhere”

[ssadumba55]

Love Finds A Way (Ian Malcolm X Reader)

Request: Hello!! I love your Ian malcolm x reader so far and I was just wondering if you could do another one (either set in the first or second movie) where ian and the reader get separated and it freaks Ian out until they find each other again and ian decides to confess his feelings maybe? Thanks!

A/N: Let's go! I've never written anything set in the first movie but that movie moves a lot faster so forgive me cutting through to get to the good bits. I spared you every dinosaur chase scene, you're welcome. Enjoy!

This trip was a mistake, you realized that now covered in mud and sitting in a tree.

Come along, Ian had suggested, it’ll be fun. It wasn’t fun now, you’d be sure to remind him of that… if you ever saw him again. Even though you had wanted to stay behind with Ian, Alan had convinced you to join him and the kids.

Now, the other three were getting some shuteye. How they could sleep with all of this around them, you would never know. You watched the Brachiosaurs eat from the safety of your vantage point. All the joy and wonder you had felt earlier on the tour was now gone, replaced with a feeling of dread deep in the pit of your stomach.

There was no way you were getting out of this alive, even with the help of the amazing Dr. Alan Grant. You had never been a fearless fighter or particularly intelligent.

“You’re still awake?” Dr. Grant asked softly. You had thought he was asleep but it appeared he’d just been resting eyes. He didn’t even look like the man you’d met earlier that day, each of his arms wrapped around one of the children he had despised.

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m worried about Dr. Malcolm, that’s all.”

It was a fair worry, he was your friend and mentor. The two of you had spent a lot of time together both in the workplace and out. You liked to think there was an inseparable bond between the two of you, something that rarely anyone else had. No matter how many wives or girlfriends he went through, what was between you both would never change.

“He’s fine. As long as he stays still, even if the T. Rex circles back, he’ll live.”

Realistically, you knew he was right but still. Nobody but the four of you knew where he was and you had no idea how to get to the others. Worst vacation ever, Ian owed you one if the two of you got off this stinking island alive.

Meanwhile, Dr. Ian Malcolm was in a panic himself. His leg was in pain, but it was dull compared to his worry for you. Now that he wasn’t being chased by a giant meat eating dinosaur, he could think properly and he had noticed your absence.

There were two options; you were laying out there dead somewhere (which he hated to think about, that couldn’t be the one) or you were wherever Dr. Grant and Hammond’s grandchildren were.

“We should be out there looking for them,” he tried to shift but his leg was in worse shape than he thought. Ellie hurried forward, scolding him for moving and putting himself in pain. She was obviously worried for Alan as well, they had issues, the two of them.

Was being in love with a workplace friend a common occurrence because it seemed like they were in the exact same department and- Oh god, if you and Alan died they would never get to tell them. More importantly he would never get to tell you.

At some point, Gennaro and Ellie leave to go look for Arnold, leaving him and Hammond to guide them to where they needed to go. He tried to keep his head in the game as much as possible, his survival and the others depended on it but he was too worried about you.

This had to be some sick twisted joke the universe had decided to play on him, he didn’t tell the one he loved he loved them when he had the chance, he fooled around with so many people... and this was his sick and twisted comeuppance.

He supposed if that was what was going on he deserved it, but damn it if he didn’t wish his leg was better so he could be out there looking for you.

How many adults did it take to hold a door shut against one Velociraptor? Apparently, three. You, Alan and Ellie leaned against the door, trying your best to keep it shut while Lex and Tim figured out the computer system.

“This is where we die,” you muttered under your breath as Ellie tried desperately to reach for the shotgun that was just out of her grasp.

“You did it!” Tim shouted and just like that the locks were on the doors.

The relief was short lived, but such is life when you’re on a dinosaur infested island. The five of you escaped through the vents, making your way back to the main entrance of the visitors building. It was a race against time (and Velociraptors), but in the end, you all made it safely back to the ground and the T. Rex took care of the raptors.

“Come on,” Alan ushered the kids, you and Ellie out the front door. You felt like you were going to pass out just from the adrenaline. Hammond and Ian were waiting outside in the jeep but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything to either of them as you climbed in. Alan said something but you leaned back in the jeep seat, releasing a breath you didn’t even know you’d been holding.

You weren’t home safe yet but it sure felt like it.

After that, everything was a blur. The helicopter ride home was silent, everyone contemplating everything they had just witnessed on the island. For once, even the great Ian Malcolm had nothing to say.

You leaned against him and he let you, clearly just as happy as you were to be in the same vicinity once again.

Upon landing in Costa Rica, the group went their separate ways. Hammond went off with his grandchildren, Ellie needed medical care and Alan went with her, Ian needed his own care so you went with him. You wondered if you’d ever get to see those people again. It was a strange thing to bond over, but you felt like you were all that much closer now that you’d been through this together.

Ian was out for a while so you pulled up a chair and slept beside the hospital bed.

“(Y/n)?” You awoke to someone saying your name, visions of giant lizard monsters danced in your vision for a few moments longer as you blinked awake.

You would surely be having nightmares of that for a long time.

Ian was awake, he had shifted himself into a sitting position, his hand on yours. You met his eyes, there was a lot that needed to be said. You wanted to tell him everything that had happened, with Alan and the kids and the raptors and-

You hugged him instead, it was strange, even though the two of you were fairly close, neither of you had ever been huge fans of physical contact.

He hugged you back though.

“That was the worst vacation ever…” You whispered, pulling away slightly to look into his eyes.

He chuckled. “Next time you can pick, no more dinosaur islands. I promise.”

You suddenly became aware of the very little space between the two of you. This was the closest the two of you had ever been in a non joking manner. It felt like being separated from each other on a dinosaur infested island had changed something in your dynamic, though you weren’t sure what it was. The smile on his face faded slightly and he reached up, closing the distance between the two of you, hand gently pressed to your cheek.

That’s what it was. The dynamic between you two had DEFINITELY changed.

“I’ve, uh, always wanted to do that.” He sounded slightly guilty, pulling away.

There were butterflies in your stomach and somehow the world seemed to be spinning. You laughed nervously, something about experiencing this so soon after a near death experience was hilarious to you.

"Funnily enough, me too," you admit, pressing your forehead to his. It's really too soon to know what this really means or if this is all just a crazy reaction to being separated and not able to see each other but you don't even care.

You could put a label on it later, he would agree. For now the two of you had each other and you were never letting go. And if Ian asked you to sleep with him later that night and if the two of you awoke each other from nightmares screaming only to comfort each other, nobody else needed to know.

You'd always had a special bond. This just made it stronger.

[sapphosthoughtsandwritings]

if it’s not too much to ask please please please could you write more avengers x teen!reader? I adore the one with fear of the dark and was wondering if you could do something similar? Like either the avengers comforting the reader or just something with lots of hugs and cuddles? Thank you!! <3

Stage Fright - Avengers x anxious!teen!Reader

Summary: When your presentation for class goes terribly wrong, your team mates come to rescue you and take you home.

Warnings: depictions of anxiety, panic attack, a few cuss words

Type: angst, ends with fluff

Word Count: ~2.5k

A/N: MY FIRST REQUEST, very exciting!! I am so so glad you liked my work, and I hope you enjoy this one as well!! <3 I also have quite a few more ideas for teen!Reader fics, so this definitely won't be the last piece like this!

(Y/l/n) = your last name

(f/d) = favorite drink

You’d been dreading this day for weeks now. Clutching the straps of your backpack, you let out a deep sigh, walking up to the doors of your school. You didn’t like school to begin with, but the building seemed much more intimidating today. Making your way through the halls, you were grateful that you got to school early, you hated pushing through crowds of people.

“Hey, hey (Y/n)!”, a voice called from down the hall. You recognized it almost immediately. “Hi Peter, what’s up?”. You were happy to see him, maybe talking out your nervousness would help. “Oh, you know, just the same old stuff. Sure am tired though”. “Well, if you don’t sleep then you will be tired”. “Like you’re one to talk (Y/l/n)”. You only rolled your eyes and stuck out your tongue at him, evoking a chuckle from him. “How about you? How are you doing?”. “Ugh, not great. I have to present that project today. Not particularly looking forward to it”, you huffed, looking down to the ground as your anxiety increased at the thought of presenting alone. “Hey, I’m sure you’ll do great. Most people don’t pay attention to presentations anyways”, he assured you. You popped your knuckles, still feeling just as nervous. You knew he was right, but that didn’t stop the fear surging through you. “Yeah, I know. I just don’t want to do it. Maybe if I wait long enough, there won’t be any class time left for me to present”, that was your hope, and your only plan to get out of this without panicking in front of the whole class. “Maybe, well regardless, I hope it goes well”, he offered you a sincere smile. “Yeah, I hope so too”. “Well, I should probably head to class, see you at lunch!”. “Right back at ya, Parker”, you waved gently to him as he disappeared down a hallway.

You made your way to your first class, deciding to read a bit before class started. Nothing you did eased the gnawing anxiety in the back of your mind though. Your first two classes were easy enough, but it was hard to focus, your mind racing with intrusive thoughts. ‘What if my voice gives out? What happens if I start crying in front of everyone? God, the whole school will hear about it. Everyone will stare at me, whisper about me every time I pass by them. I can’t do this, I just can’t’. By your third class, you’d bitten your nails down to blood, your lips suffering the same fate, cracked and split open. You almost considered skipping, but you’d worked hard on this project, you couldn’t let that go to waste. So, taking your seat in the back of the class, you tried breathing techniques, anything to help calm your senses. Your leg bounced so much, you swore the floor would give out under your foot.

The teacher turned out the lights, letting people present their projects voluntarily. You calmed the tiniest bit. If someone randomly kept volunteering to present, the class time was sure to run out before you even got the chance to stand up. Throughout the class, you were on edge, chanting silent prayers in your head. You weren’t very fortunate though, as everyone presented quickly, making it apparent that you were going to have to present no matter what. “Alright, who hasn’t gone up yet?”, your teacher called out, looking at her grading sheet. ‘Oh my god, please don’t see my name. Please tell me I don’t exist. Let me just disappear. I can’t do this’. “Oh! (Y/n) still hasn’t presented, come on over and I’ll pull up your project”, your teacher chirped.

Your heart pounded painfully hard in your chest, slowly standing up on jelly legs, keeping your gaze down as you walked to the whiteboard. You couldn’t possibly do this. You were going to die. Every mission you’d ever gone on seemed so miniscule in this moment, as you looked out to your peers. It was too dark to see most of their faces, which only made your situation worse. Your teacher pulled up the project on the projector, gesturing to you to start presenting, as she clicked her pen, ready to write down every mistake you made.

Letting out a jittery breath, you clasped your sweaty hands together and began talking. You were shaking so badly, it was like an earthquake had erupted inside of your body. You could feel the tears threatening to spill past your eyes, leaving a hard pain in your throat. Your chest hurt, and your breathing was becoming more erratic. But you had to finish, you had to get this over with. Just as you were on one of the last slides, a voice called from somewhere in the class, “Hey, pipsqueak! Speak up, would ya? We can’t hear you back here!”. The comment elicited a few snickers, which your teacher hushed quietly, but the damage was already done. The room was suddenly shrinking around you, as your chest tightened even further. You bit your lip, trying your best to compose yourself, attempting to push down your anxiety, but it only pushed back up more violently. “(Y/n)? You still have a few slides left”, your teacher said, but you didn’t hear her. Instead, your fight or flight instincts took over, and you raced out of the classroom, tears now breaking free, streaming down your face. You headed to the nearest bathroom, locking yourself in a stall, your whole world crumbling beneath you.

Leaning against the door, you slid down, breath caught in your throat, fighting to get out, but to no avail. Instinctively, you brought your knees up to your chest, clutching at the seams of your pants, letting out choked sobs and broken coughs. There was only one thing you could think of that might help you, and that was your teammates. You pulled your phone out of your pocket, continuing to shake violently, as you clicked the emergency contacts, thumb pressed to the first person, which just so happened to be Bucky. You lifted the phone to your ear, barely hearing the ring, despite your call volume being all the way up.

Bucky saw your name pop up on his phone, panic surging through him. You never called, it made you too anxious. He answered instantly, “(Y/n)? (Y/n), sweetheart, are you okay?”. His sudden panic mixed with your name caused both Steve and Sam to stand by him, all of them mentally preparing for an emergency. You wanted to reply, but all that came out was a squeak, as your fist collided with the tiled floor, your oxygen levels becoming more scarce by the second. Bucky put his phone on speaker, letting all three of them talk to you. “(Y/n), doll, you gotta breathe okay? Through your nose, count on your fingers”, Bucky stated, trying to keep his voice steady for you. “Yep, deep breaths (Y/n), you’ve got this. You’re gonna be okay”, Steve reassured you. After about 10 minutes of the three of them gently coaxing you out of your panic attack, you calmed slightly, leaving you crying quietly.

“We’re almost back at the compound, we’ll come and pick you up in about 20 minutes, okay?”, Steve said, giving no room for protests, although at this point you weren’t going to object. You wanted to go home. “Okay, I guess I should get back to class then”, you murmured, realizing that you’d probably been gone for over 15 minutes now. It was weird no one came to look for you, but you weren’t complaining. “If you aren’t ready to go back kid, that’s fine. We can stay on the call as long as you need”, Sam mentioned, his voice sounded beyond concerned. You had a bad habit of not taking care of yourself, especially in times of crisis. “No, I’ll be fine, gotta go back to get my stuff anyways”, you were dreading going back. The whole class would be focused on you for sure, not to mention the faux sympathy from your teacher, something that would surely cause another flood of tears. You just wanted to go unnoticed, for everyone to ignore your presence. “Alright, if you’re sure”. “I’m sure, I’ll see you guys soon”, you weren’t sure, but you had to convince them, you knew too well that they’d cause a scene at the school if things got worse. “Okay, stay safe sweetheart, we’ll be there as soon as possible”, Steve stated, before Bucky reluctantly hung up the phone.

Letting out a deep sigh, you pushed yourself up, groaning slightly as you forced your stiff body to move. You stepped out of the stall, silently thanking the universe for not letting anyone walk in during your breakdown. You looked to one of the mirrors, finding a disheveled figure staring back at you. You grabbed a paper towel, dampening it in the sink, and gently washing the dried tears off your face. You fixed your clothing and washed your hands, before making the godawful trip back to class. There was only 5 minutes left for the class, but that was more than enough time for shit to go wrong. You stood outside the door for a minute, taking a moment to compose yourself.

Turning the handle slowly, you eased your way past the door, the lights now on. Just as you expected, all eyes turned on you, but most turned away quickly, looking back to their friend or their phone. That lifted your nervousness a bit, as you started to head back to your desk, but your teacher had other plans, as she cleared her throat, motioning for you to go and talk to her. You cussed quietly to yourself, could this day get any worse? You dragged your feet over to her desk, biting your now scabbed lip. “So, your project was very good, therefore, I’m going to give you a 90, but I have to dock 10 points for your presentation”, she spoke quietly and sternly. Your face grew hot with her words, tears swelling in your eyes again. She was taking points off for something that you couldn’t control? It pissed you off to say the least. You only looked away from her desk, nodding slightly, knowing better than to open your mouth. “Alright then, you can go and pack up your things”. You walked quickly back to your desk, putting the few things you had taken out back into your backpack, before the bell rang for lunch. Dashing out of the class, you headed straight for the front of the school, more than ready for the day to be over. You’d email your 4th period teacher later on what work you missed out on. On your way, you made sure to text Peter, letting him know everything that happened, and that you wouldn’t be there for lunch.

You only had to wait for a few minutes, as Sam walked through the doors, spotting you quickly and walking over to you. “You alright kid?”. “Yeah, I’ll be fine, jus’ want this day to be done already”. He nodded, following you to the front office, signing everything to excuse you for the day. He kept a close eye on you the whole time, a protective hand placed on your shoulder. Stepping out of the building, he led you to the car where Bucky and Steve awaited. You got into the back seat, Sam sitting in the seat next to you.

“Hey doll, you feeling alright?”, Bucky quizzed, angling his body to look at you. “Yeah, ‘m glad you guys offered to pick me up though. Don’t really think I could’ve lasted another class”, you fidgeted with your hands, you knew your nerves wouldn’t calm for a while, but at least it was manageable now. “We’re always here for you, kid, no matter what”, Sam assured you, patting your shoulder softly. “Mhm, you can always come to us, even if we’re on a mission. Our job can always wait, your well being is more important than anything”, Steve added, looking briefly to you in the rearview mirror. “Thank you for that, you guys are the best”, you smiled bashfully. “No need to thank us, jus’ doing what’s right”, Bucky stated. “So, whatcha feel like doing when we get back?”, Sam asked. You thought for a moment, doing anything social sounded horrible at the moment, and the weighted blanket in your room was calling your name. “How ‘bout a pizza and movie night?”, you inquired, knowing they’d all like the idea, hell the whole team would probably join in. “Sounds good to me”, Steve mused, he always liked time for the team to bond. “Me too”. “Me as well, I’m starving dude”, Sam quipped, causing all of you to chuckle.

It didn’t take long to get back to the tower, all of you heading inside, you going to your room to set your stuff down and to change into something more comfy. After changing, you grabbed your weighted blanket, wrapping it around you, heading back down to the common room. Word must’ve spread fast, cause the whole team was gathered there, everyone sitting in a designated spot, except for Tony, who was currently ordering pizza over the phone. “Hey, there they are, rough day at school?”, Natasha asked, giving you a warm smile. “Yeah, not the greatest”, you huffed out a small laugh. “Well, in that case, you get to choose the first movie draga”, Pietro looked up at you from his spot on the floor. You hummed in response, before placing your decision on one of your favorite comfort movies. Clint started to look it up on the various streaming services, finding it almost instantly. “This one, right?”. You nodded happily, making your way over to sit between Steve and Wanda. “Hey, kiddo, you want a drink? And I’m guessing you want some extra garlic breadsticks too, right?”, Tony asked, holding his phone away from his mouth slightly. “Uhh, I’ll have a (f/d), and duh, of course I want garlic breadsticks”. “Yeah, what type of question is that?”, Pietro chimed in. Tony scoffed at him, rolling his eyes, but continued placing the order.

Wanda opened her arms next to you, allowing you to curl into her side as her arms wrapped softly around you. You stretched your legs out, Steve placed them on his lap, gently rubbing his thumb over your calf. Your nerves were finally winding down, as Clint pressed play on the movie. Wanda kept an arm wrapped around your back, her other hand resting gently on the side of your head, making sure to keep you close. The pizza arrived shortly after the movie had started, and you grabbed as much food as you wanted. You deserved it after the day you had. After the first movie finished, and the team voted on a new movie to watch, you felt yourself begin to drift off. You couldn’t have imagined a more perfect setting, comfort and warmth surrounding you. You didn’t make it far into the second movie before you fell asleep, listening to the sound of Wanda’s heart beating, the events from earlier that day flooding away, leaving you to sleep peacefully, knowing that you were safe and sound.