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dfortrafalgar · 30 days

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I'm Losing You

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Law x Fem Reader

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read these warnings before reading this fic. Genuinely, I implore you. I started writing this fic on a whim a few weeks ago, when I was contemplating my own experiences with reproduction-related health conditions such as the one that will be addressed later on in this story (endometriosis). Reproductive education and health is something that I feel very strongly about, and I feel that topics such as pregnancy complications and loss aren't addressed enough in media for fear that they're too taboo or shocking. Which, to be fair, is true, at least for the shocking aspect. Pregnancy loss is difficult, traumatic, and life-changing, for better or for worse, truly dependent on the person and the world around them.

Now you might be wondering... why would you drag one piece into this? well, i don't know. i felt like it, perhaps. Law is a character who resonates very deeply to me, his character is emotionally complex and layered, and imagining him in a scenario like this one became very interesting to me. Combine that with everything i stated above and taddaa, you get this fic.

this story does and will eventually have a happy ending (a very happy ending!) however it will take a bit to get there. this is a multi-chapter fic that i'm moving from my ao3 to my new blog, and the same warnings there apply here.

if this fic doesn't seem like your cup of tea, i encourage you to check out some of my other fics on my blog. i have a few law/readers that are tooth-rottingly fluffy and much more feel good.

with all that out of the way, thank you for reading.

Chapter 1

[Next]

The air in the room was as stifling as a sauna from the stress and anxiety filling the air. It was so silent, the tiles surrounding the small area blocking any and all noise from outside. The door was closed, caging you in.

You were sitting on the toilet lid, your hands rapidly perspiring and your whole body shivering with nerves. Across from you, your husband had his arms crossed, his head hung low, his heel bouncing off the floor. The tension was unlike anything you had ever experienced, however this had unfortunately become the norm for the past six months.

On the side of the sink sat a long white stick. Neither of you wanted to look at it.

“Do you think it’s ready now…?” you asked, inwardly cringing at how pathetic and weak your wobbly voice sounded.

Law picked his head up, his golden eyes creased in profound concern and worry. “It should be. Five minutes, right?”

“I think so,” you replied. With a trembling hand, you grabbed the stick from the counter. Law watched your every movement with a close eye. With a deep breath, you flipped over the test and gazed at the result window.

A single red line.

After the last failed attempt, you made a joke that you didn’t have any more tears left in you to cry, but clearly that wasn’t the case as fat, salty tears rapidly welled in your eyes and flowed down your cheeks. Law immediately knew what the result was the second your lips twitched downward. His heart sank into his stomach, immediately stepping toward you, grabbing the test from your hand and blindly chucking it into the small garbage can in the corner. He knelt on the floor in front of you to pull you into his chest.

“Damn it…” you whimpered. Your body forced you to take a shuddering inhale before sobbing an anguished, “FUCK!!!!”

Law’s heart broke. He didn’t even know what to say to comfort you anymore. 6 months of failed attempts at conceiving a very wanted baby had caused nothing but pain to both of you. You had both been scientific about the process. All birth control and protection was ceased, and the two of you were religiously tracking your cycle to make sure you would try during your ovulation window, but nothing but failure after failure showed up.

You thought you were broken.

Law thought he was broken.

You wept into his shoulder, your body shuddering with each pained sob that crawled from your sore throat. Law’s hands were frozen around you, firmly gripping your back. You couldn’t see the tears that were forming in the corners of his stern eyes, biting his lip and forcing every muscle in his face to prevent those tears from slipping downward. The last thing you needed was to see him cry, but he didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to hold it in.

“Law…” you whimpered into his shoulder.

Law stayed silent.

“I’m sorry–”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he quickly retorted, cutting you off. He felt you lurch in his arms. “This isn’t your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault… it’s…”

Now you stayed silent.

Law took his own shallow inhale. “I… don’t know.”

For one of the only times in Law’s life, he was rendered completely incapable of speech. Normally calm and analytical, looking for every possible solution or reason for an issue, he was now left completely helpless to the crashing waves of sheer dejection. As your quivering body clung to him like a lifeline, his entire brain was scrambling for some sense, any logical thought, for the current predicament, but it was starting to become glaringly obvious to both of you.

It was very likely one of you was infertile.

When you finally picked your head up from his shoulder, Law’s previously broken heart fractured into even more irreparable pieces.

Your eyes were puffy, swollen and bloodshot from your tears. Your entire face looked bloated from the force of your crying, and you were clearly flushed. You looked, for lack of a better word, completely miserable. Law helped you stand from the closed toilet seat, keeping your eyes away from the trash can where the negative pregnancy test lay on top of discarded tissues and makeup wipes, to guide you to your shared bedroom. Neither of you had to say a word, you knew he was going to put you into your shared bed and let you get some much-deserved rest after the stressful eternity (10 minutes) you had just endured. It was almost 8:00PM anyway, and regrettably, both of you still had work the following day.

You didn’t fight it when Law eased you down onto the mattress by your shoulders. You kept your eyes pinned closed, not wanting to let your husband see any more of your beaten state. You rolled over onto your side and hid in your pillows. You didn’t hear Law mention that he would join you after cleaning up, and you didn’t notice the overhead light dimming. You simply begged for sleep to take you quickly and painlessly.

When Law finally returned after washing his face, he gazed dejectedly at your weary form. Finally asleep, fortunately, but your cheeks were glossy with fresh tears. The man carefully crawled into bed behind you, carefully pulling your body into his. He wished more than anything that he could make your pain go away. He ran through the many years you had been together, and struggled to find a time where your sorrow was as profound as it was this evening. His mind was constantly at war- his analytical, doctor side beginning to list specific reasons why this could be happening, and his sincere, passionate, loving husband side breaking apart reflecting over the sound of your sobs.

It could have been either of you. But it also could’ve been both of you. The thought was enough to finally force the tears in Law’s eyes to break free and travel down his cheeks. Some of them plotted into your hair.

—

You awoke to the sound of whispering in your hallway outside the bedroom. The blinds covering the window above the bed you shared with Law were pulled shut, but the sunlight still beamed through them leaving patterns on the walls and floor. The side Law slept on was empty and freshly made. No surprise, he left for work early in the morning after all. You slowly sat up in bed, your head pounding. The events of the previous evening came rushing back to you, but you felt nothing but an empty melancholy, a dark fog that hung over your brain and clouded your vision.

The door to your bedroom slowly opened. You looked up just in time to see a very large, very fluffy cloud with four legs and two beady eyes come sprinting into your room. Its feet ripped across the carpeted floor as It hopped on your bed with a loud huff, immediately snuggling on top of your duvet and leaning into your body for some much needed cuddles.

You mustered a weary laugh, your hands instinctively moving to the back of the dog’s neck to rub his fluffy cheeks from behind, eliciting happy grunts from the large animal. He had his tongue out, a tiny pink blep among the sea of rich white fur.

“Bepo,” you sighed. “You know Law doesn’t like it when you get on the bed.”

“He missed you!” called a voice from the hallway. Spiky red hair appeared in the doorway. “So did we, actually. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

Shachi had, actually, woken you up, but you didn’t need to tell him that. “No, not at all.” You shook your head. Bepo’s tail was wagging in your face, causing you to sputter out small strands of loose fur from your mouth. The red-head entered your bedroom, leaving the door open. The smell of French toast instantly wafted into the space, making your mouth water and your eyes widen. “Is Penguin cooking?”

“Yee-up,” Shachi replied, popping his lips to enunciate the word. “Law invited us over, if you couldn’t tell.” He flashed a smirk. “You got the day off, by the way.”

Your eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. “What?”

“Law called in sick for you,” the man confirmed.

You frantically reached for the night stand and grabbed your phone, tapping the screen to illuminate it. It was almost 10:00AM, and sure enough, your alarm had been turned off. Three texts from Law sat waiting on your screen, as well as two texts from your coworkers.

Baby~~<3

Sorry, I broke into your phone to turn your alarm off. You get to sleep in today, I called you out sick. I didn’t tell them anything, just that you weren’t feeling good.

Baby~~<3

Shachi and Penguin might be there when you wake up. I did tell them a little about what happened, just so they know to give you space if you need it.

Baby~~<3

Call me if you need anything at all, I love you.

Ika-chan

I heard you called in sick today!!! I hope you’re alright, let me know if you need anything!

Nami Swan

How r u feeling? If u caut the flu u can blame Usopp :P

You smiled, your heart beating in your chest. “You guys are too much sometimes.”

Shachi proudly rested his clenched fist over his sternum as a display of pride. “Nothing is ever enough for your best friend!” The sight made you chuckle.

You were caught off guard by Penguin entering with a much larger platter of food than you ever expected. He excitedly approached your bedside with a wide grin, marveling at his own work. A bowl of mixed fruits, a plate of French toast drizzled with maple syrup and dollopped with a swirl of whipped cream, a small portion of sausage on the side, and a single unopened bottle of apple juice. You graciously accepted the spread, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t completely befuddled.

“You guys know I’m not actually sick, right?” you asked, glancing at your husband’s best friends with concern. You shooed Bepo away from getting too close to the sausage.

“We know,” Penguin clarified. “We can treat you to a nice breakfast even when you’re not sick, though!”

You smiled, forcing down the lump that formed in your throat. “Thank you guys, I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I know what you’d do,” Shachi stated. “You’d eat your breakfast and savor every bite!” He stood up from your bed and clapped his hands twice, beckoning Bepo off of the bed and over to his side. “We’ll take Bepo for a walk around the neighborhood! Take some time for yourself!” The two men left with your dog in tow, leaving you to stare in awe at the spread of food.

Your mind was reeling. Law’s text informed you that he had given his two friends a brief summary of what had happened, but you didn’t really mind. If anything, it brought you some comfort to know that you and your husband’s two closest friends understood the predicament you were currently in and were more than willing to go out of their way to support you. You also couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Law calling you out sick for the day, putting your passcode into your phone to turn off your alarm, and making sure his friends would be there for you when you woke up. You were beyond grateful for such an incredible support system, but just to be on the safe side…

You grabbed your phone once more, opening your text messages with Law.

Good morning baby, thank you for calling me out. Im feeling a bit better, Shachi and Penguin made me breakfast. I hope you didnt give them too much grief ;3; Take care of yourself today, I’ll see you when you get home. I love you!!! <333

With your breakfast completed, you slowly trudged to the bathroom to take a relaxing shower. The sight of your negative pregnancy test filled you with nausea, but you pushed past the feeling and turned on the water.

#trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #fem reader #law x reader #x reader #reader insert #tw pregnancy #tw miscarriage #tw pregnancy loss #im losing you

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harasharaved · 7 months

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Jason Todd Fics - September 2023

Fics I recommend with a focus on or POV of Jason Todd. Masterpost can be found here.

Key: Has a ship or romantic plot, unfinished, multi-chapter, one-shot

NOTE: some of these do require an AO3 Account to read.

Whisper Closely in My Ear by Kangarou

The words went in one ear, rattled around like bees, before ramming out the other. The doctor was sitting painfully close, only two feet away. The tone of voice implied he was talking louder, not quite a yell but something nearly there; it sounded like a whisper to Jason. So quiet, with every third word unintelligible, except for that first phrase: "Mr Wayne, I'm afraid you're profoundly deaf." --- Jason is profoundly deaf. He learns to cope with it.

An AU in which Jason is deaf. This is one of my favorite Jason fics. I often find myself coming back to it. Its a great character study, introspective and has that delicious kind of hurt you just want to sit with for a while, with a helping dollop of comfort.

Children Will Listen by Parker Avenue

Jason Todd is good at extortion. He's what the adults call a snoop - nobody paid attention to the little kid with the big ears. Without even realizing, adults would hand him the keys to getting what he needed. Jason knew how to collect information, because adults found information valuable. And it was. It was free, easy to get, and easy to carry, so long as he kept his head clear and his facts straight. Jason had information Batman could use. He knew it. He had thought it over all day, sitting on that moldy couch, eating stale saltines. Batman would definitely be interested in the information Jason had. Batman had become scary again, like the old stories Jason used to hear the goons in the area tell. Breaking bones, just barely keeping people alive. Batman didn’t kill, no, but sometimes? Sometimes living was worse, maybe. Jason stayed crouched behind that dumpster, silent, because he simply couldn’t decide if Batman was far gone enough to make a kid wish he was dead. (Jason Todd knows how to get what he wants, and Batman tries to lure him to safety.)

Okay I will admit, my biggest weakness is fics about street kid Jason. Slow adoption got me good. Anyways, this one isn't finished but I love the way the pacing takes its time. Co-parents Bruce and Selina is never a con either!

Stargazer by LemonadeGarden

Jason Todd is seriously injured during patrol one night, and is forced to stay at the manor to recuperate until his injuries are healed. To pass the time, he makes a list of things he never got to do before he died. Except there's one small problem: most of them involve Bruce, and Jason doesn't really think Bruce cares all that much about him anymore. This is a story about how wrong he is, but I made it sad anyway.

I'm sure everyone and their mother has rec'd this fic, but I'm doing it anyways because I love it deeply. If you haven't read it, this is your sign!

Glow in the Dark Stars by essspressso (stylesmakethefight)

“I’m being serious, asshat,” Jason hisses, swatting his hands away from his face. “You have to tell me what year it is.” Nightwing crosses his arms a little petulantly. “It’s 2017. Happy?” Jason freezes, breath catching in his throat. 2017. Five years ago. He was…he was fifteen. “Shit,” he murmurs. He’s going to eviscerate Tim. Or: Red Hood Jason and 15-year-old Jason swap timelines, landing one week before 15-year-old Jason is supposed to die.

Time travel trope + Jason Todd's tragic ass life = amazing fics. Feelings, prepare to be felt! LOTS of Angst. You might even shed a tear. Wonderful fic!

Too Much Fucking Salt by Pez_The_Platypus

A rural housewife instinctively understood the law of quantity into quality. Add a pinch of salt to a soup and it tasted better; add one pinch too many and you ruined the batch. Jason had been in limbo for a year and a half, trusting things would get better even though everything just seemed to be getting worse. It was something small that set him off, but really, it was an accumulation of a lot of things that led to this. He was going to kill the Joker.

A one shot, but a LONG one. This one is very sad, heavy, and bittersweet. Its not Bruce or Dick "bashing", it provides a pretty well rounded and human description of them, which is to say they are not angels. Still, if you love pondering the tragedy of Jason Todd and themes of coping with trauma and the inherent grating sensation of trying to heal, this is a great fic for you.

YOU MUST KNOW LIFE TO KNOW DECAY by orpheusaki

Bruce starts, eyes glaring down at the city and unwilling to look anywhere else, especially in Jason's direction, "You always… hated the rain." Jason's breath gets caught in his throat. (For as long as Jason can remember, it's always been raining.)

Jason angst and character study rooted in comic-accuracy. Great short read!

This Kind of Weather by r_astra

Jason’s at school when his mom dies, and that’s the only reason any of it happens. If he’d been home, if he’d been with her, he would’ve been in the wind before anyone else even knew. Even if they looked, no one ever would’ve found him. He’d have taken to the sewers if that’s what it took, man-eating crocodile guy and all.

Yes, another Jason Todd adoption fic, one in which he does not steal the tires. I have a type and I'm limiting myself to only 2 of the many I love. This one does not have much of a focus at all on the Bat-side of things, just a story of Jason finding a home, much older than in the comics.

A Straight Blade by Sparkypants

"What happened to your face?" Bruce asks, reaching his hand for Jason's jaw. "You're bleeding." Jason bristles, cheeks turning pink. "I cut myself shaving." He says, and wipes at the cut with the cuff of his hoody. Damian makes a clicking noise with his tongue, "I'm amazed you haven't taken your own head off." He snarks. Jason shoves his chair away from the table, temper flaring. "Well it's not like anyone ever taught me, is it." He hisses. He's five years late, but Bruce finally teaches Jason how to shave.

Quick one-shot with feelings. Great little read I often find myself revisiting.

Growing Like a Breeze by WhaleofaTime

April 27th isn't anyone's favorite date, but it's somehow worse than usual today when Bruce gets his car stolen. It's nice of Red Hood to come to his rescue. Nicer even that Jason keeps him company afterwards.

One of those fics that explains everything about why Jason and Bruce's dynamic and relationship is so magnetic to read about. They both suck at feelings and yet make me feel SO MUCH.

#Jason Todd #DC #batfam #dc comics #fic recs #I have a lot more but i think this is enough for one post #Sarah's Bullshit #this is way more fun than all the work I'm meant to be doing right now.#please enjoy! tell me if theres one you really like bc i am always down to yell about fics!

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jayden-killer · 6 months

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Hi!

I love your stories, could you make one where the reader is dating Miguel and is also a part of the spider community. The reader helps Miles to escape and Miguel finds out and argue with her.

I hope that you will keep writing stories.

Have a great day !

omg omg hii! I'm so glad you enjoy my stories, receiving these types of compliments always make my day :DD. And, i deeply apologise for taking this long to write your request; I've been so busy with my uni exams.. Anyways, here's your story!!

I HATE TO FIGHT YOU. (Miguel O'Hara × gn!reader)

warnings: Angst to light sfw (at the end)???, Miguel expressing his anger by literally destroying his lab lmao, VERY LONG ONE SHOT.

☆

Superpowers aren’t easy.

So it wasn’t a relationship with the leader of the Spider Society. Miguel was not an easy guy to argue with, you might call him stubborn, which was one of his main features. And even when Miles Morales, the newcomer to society, tried to change his mind, begging him to give him a chance to save his father, he hadn’t changed his mind. There was nothing Miles could do to change his mind. It was difficult with me, imagine with the others! But this is another story; Miles Morales was chased by an angry mob of Spider people, led by Miguel, flanked by me. The walls of the structure resounded with encouraging screams that every spider person gave himself, giving more charge during that chase. Miles was right in front of us, dodging webs and traps stretched by other members. There was something about that kid that maybe wasn’t something wrong.

He needed to be sent home and help him save his parents. I had not succeeded, and I would have avoided that another person (moreover a little boy!) would have gone through the same pain that I had to go through. Miguel and I split up, and that was my chance. With a perfect throw of my web, he managed to grab Miles' right arm and pull it towards me. The boy stretched his eyes, thinking it was the end for him. Only when I made a sign to him to become invisible and to hide behind a shaded wall, he understood. He hid me in turn, letting the angry crowd pass us.

Now it was the right time. "Miles". I called the kid with the labored breath and he returned to his normal form. He was exhaling and inspiring too, following the hunt we were giving him. Without wasting time, looking around if there was a person there, I took out my time clock, and put it on his wrist. " This clock will take you to your dimension. It’s already set for where you need to go. Don’t ask any more questions, go." Without giving him an answer, I left him there, in the shadows, his face confused and sweaty, while I waved him to go.

~☆~

"You did what?!"

"He’s a boy, Miguel!"

"You have no idea how serious the situation is because of you".

"Miguel, you have to reason. You can’t really thi-".

"The situation is far worse than you think, puta madre!"

Miguel’s scream rang out the second it left his mouth. I could compare him to an animal: panting, with his eyes reddened and grainy, studying every movement, his shoulders outstretched, ready to attack his prey, me, or maybe someone else. His fierce and intimidating tone made me shudder, close my eyes for fear that something might happen, or worse; I held my arms in place along my hips, biting my lip to channel the emotions I had inside. I didn’t want to show weakness before Miguel. Or better: he had already seen me as I was. Fragile, with doubts that twisted my mind, like a normal human being, yet in those situations I always tried not to show off... I wanted to have everything under control. The man didn’t realize that he was wrong, that he was blinded by this compulsive obsession with control. We were talking about a little boy, Jesus Christ!

I opened my eyes.

My thoughts were replaced by the still threatening tone of Miguel, my lover, who took a long sigh, pinching the tip of his nose. Then he shook his head, turning his back. The lab was upside down: the news of my help to Miles was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

"The consequences are serious. I can’t risk losing more people to a kid".

That was more a warning to him than to myself. "I need to think about it... I need to be alone".

"Miguel.." I tried to talk to him.

With one hand he stopped me from talking to him and shook his head slightly, not looking at me. " No." He said. "I know what you did. It was right. But now I need to be on my own" he repeated feebly, that I found it difficult to understand well what he wanted. Then I agreed, because I respected his condition and his well-being, so I left him alone in the now ruined laboratory, with the last words: "I only did what was right. He deserves a chance", then the doors closed. I swear I heard something from him.

"And I don’t blame you. But it’s not right that he can save his family, and I couldn’t do it".

#marvel imagine #marvel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #oneshot #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara #miguel x reader #spiderman atsv #atsv miguel #atsv #angst

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seafoamwaffle · 30 days

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Next Stop: Pelican Town // Stardew Valley AU

Ever since @norinenglish posted about their stardew ranchers fic concept I haven't been able to get the idea out of my head, so I've decided to make it everybody's problem.

I'm not going to be following the farmer's story beat for beat, instead, I'm just taking it as a loose inspiration and seeing where it takes me. Is there going to be more? Who knows, certainly not me!

First draft of Jimmy coming to the valley can be found under the cut :D

The bus travelled down the lonely highway, the slight unevenness of the road sending Jimmy’s head bumping against the window. There were endless mountain ranges just on the other side of the glass and peaking between the small crevices he could even see the ocean. Verdant grass covered every inch of the place—such a far cry from the dull greys of Zuzu City.

Which, he supposed was the point. Looking back at it, it was only a matter of time before the city chipped away at the last bits of himself until all that remained was just a shallow husk of a being. It was too loud, too full, too much.

Though who was he kidding? He could blame all his recent troubles on the city all he wanted, it wouldn’t get him anywhere. There was no guarantee things would get better in Pelican Town either.

Positive thoughts, Jimmy, warned Pearl’s voice somewhere in the back of his head. Positive thoughts.

Right. Things at least—probably?—couldn’t get any worse than they had been. And now he at least wouldn’t have to burden his cousins with coming all the way out to Zuzu City to keep an eye on him.

It had been their idea to have him move back to Stardew Valley in the first place. Grian had suggested he stay with him up in the spare bedroom of his cabin, though Jimmy had resisted the idea with all his might. He’d caused them enough trouble as it was. The last thing they needed was to have him leeching off their kindness at all hours of the day and invading their personal space.

After that conversation though, the incessant need to move out of that city to get away increased tenfold, until his small apartment full of stuff that wasn’t even his own began closing in on him, until there was no longer enough space for him to even breathe.

“What about Gramps’ old farm?” Grian had asked as they were lounging on the couch one evening. “You wouldn’t have us breathing down your neck all the time there and we’d be a few minutes walk out if you ever needed company.”

“Have you been to that place at all in the past few years? It’s so overgrown you can barely get to the house!” Protested Pearl. Her legs were draped across the both of them while she nursed a bowl of popcorn in her arms.

“Okay, so it needs a little bit of cleaning up—”

“Understatement of the year.”

“—but it would solve our conundrum here, right Timmy?”

Two sets of eyes turned to stare at him as Jimmy shifted uncomfortably in his seat and pretended he’d still been paying attention to the long-forgotten movie playing in the background.

“I… I think I’d need to sleep on it.”

Up until that point he hadn’t thought about the old ranch much. Though he had spent most of his early childhood there, he and his mum moved to Zuzu City after Grandpa passed away. He can’t even remember if they ever came back to visit, although that’s not exactly something he could ever blame her for. What was there to return for besides memories now painted over by grief?

He had loved that place to bits as a kid. How could he not? It was a pocket of the world that always felt as if it had been carved out just for him, endless fields and meadows he could run around until he could no longer catch his breath, chasing around friends whose faces he could barely recall anymore. And the animals—the chickens, the cows, the goats, creatures that at times understood him better than any person could. He wanted to become a vet because of them, though that dream was now long forgotten, locked away with every other ambition.

It had been the happiest he’d ever been.

That realisation had hooked its claws underneath his ribs and refused to disappear, reminding him of its existence with each breath he took.

He could have that again if he gave it a try.

At first, he attempted to squash that idea down as best he could, to lock it away in a small box tucked at the very back of his mind. It tasted too much like the sickly sweetness of false hope and he wouldn’t—couldn’t let himself be overtaken by it again before he inevitably came crashing down into reality.

But it was too persistent, growing louder and louder the further down he attempted to push it. So, when he had gone through the few things he still owned from back then and found the deed to the old ranch tucked between photo albums and Grandpa’s old books, it felt as though fate had made the decision for him.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

It was all too soon that the bus hissed to a halt at a small clearing with barely any indication that there was a bus stop to begin with, besides a ticket machine tucked to the side that anyone could miss easily if they didn’t know it was there. With dread and anticipation both mixing in the pit of his stomach, he stepped out into the open.

“Timmy!”

Before he processed what was going on, there was an arm that hooked around his neck, pulling him down enough for Grian to reach and ruffle his blond hair. It took him a moment to pull out of the grasp.

“What happened to a good old-fashioned hello?”

“Welcome to Stardew Valley!” A theatrical voice boomed from the side, immediately catching Jimmy’s attention.

On the dirt path leading to the bus stop stood a man dressed in elegant reddish clothing. He leaned heavily on an ornate cane while his other hand held a matching tophat. A wide smile overtook his features. Behind him he caught a glimpse of Pearl, sitting on a wooden fence.

The stranger made his way over to them. “I’m Scar, mayor of Pelican Town.” He offered a small bow, before placing the tophat back on his head and offering Jimmy the now free hand.

“I’m—I’m Jimmy Solidarity.” He stumbled over his words as he shook the hand of this clearly important man. His brain wasn’t going to let him forget that for weeks to come.

If he noticed anything amiss, Scar didn’t comment on it. “I’ve heard a lot about you! It’s not every day someone new moves it. It’s quite a big deal! The entirety of Pelican Town is anxious to meet you.”

The words sent Jimmy’s stomach tying up in knots and though he attempted to cover that up as best he could, the pitying look Pearl sent his way told him he hadn’t done a good job at it.

“How ‘bout we take him to the cabin first, yeah? I’m sure others are gonna be able to wait until he gets settled in.”

Scar’s smile never wavered. “Why of course, of course. Just follow me!”

An uncanny feeling crept up his spine as they walked down the dirt path he must’ve walked through thousands of times as a child. It seemed much smaller now, the wooden fences surrounding it were much worse for wear. Something so familiar growing into something foreign.

They stopped once they reached another big clearing and oh—he’d thought Pearl had been exaggerating about how overgrown the property had become. But weeds and debris stretched as far as he could see and where there used to be fields full of crops now grew sturdy trees.

And the house… Well, it looked as though no one had set foot in or around it in more than a decade, which he supposed must have been the case.

“Told you it was bad,” Pearl half-snickered, though there was no real malice in her tone.

“You’re exaggerating! With enough time this can all be fixed up easily.”

“Says the carpenter. The house looks like it’s being held together with duct tape and Gramps’ old stubbornness! Are you sure this is even safe to stay in?”

Grian waved a hand in dismissal. “I went to check it over a few days back. It’s not a luxury hotel or anything, it’s covered in about an inch layer of dust and I’m pretty sure most of the wiring and plumbing needs to be redone, but it’s not going to collapse at a moment's notice.”

“Reassuring,” Jimmy chimed in, though his gaze wouldn’t leave the old house. It stood tall, with warm-toned wooden walls and a big front porch leading to the reddish front door. The attic window had been broken, with plastic stapled on from the inside to prevent rain from soaking the inside.

This was what had become of his childhood home. A broken, empty mess.

“I mean, it’s got character, it’s rustic!” Scar jumped in.

“Crusty’s a better way to put it—”

“Listen,” Grian jumped in, cutting off whatever Pearl was about to say. “I’ll help you get it back into proper shape as long as you’ll get all the materials, deal?”

Jimmy mumbled something vaguely affirmative as he continued staring at the overgrown ranch in front of him.

It was going to be one hell of a fresh start

#these new dreams #seafoam drafts #traffic stardew au #stardew valley ranchers #jimmy solidarity #pearlescentmoon #grian #goodtimeswithscar #team rancher #trafficblr #seafoam archives #stardew valley #sdv

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buckysgrace · 2 months

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I don't know if you do requests because you might be busy but i wanted to ask if you can write a story with this concept:

“if i was a better guy i’d walk away.” gator says, looking you up and down. you nod. “you would.” you agree. “do you want me to be a better guy?” he asks, raising his eyebrow. "No".

I'm very slow with requests but I do write them!! I hope you enjoy this!! <3

Gator x Fem!Reader

CW: Unprotected sex, some spitting, cheating!

Gator was a drug you couldn't give up.

No matter how harshly you prayed him away, sought for the lord's strength; Gator kept rushing forth in your mind. It was wrong, terrible even. You were sure the more you tried to ignore him, the worse the thoughts grew.

You supposed it wasn't completely your fault. He always seemed to be around you; no matter how desperately you wished him away. He was charming, all kind words and bright smiles that made you completely melt anytime you saw him.

Your sister was the lucky one. She was his age, prettier and more vocal about who and what she wanted. She was your parents favorite, not that you really blamed them. She was better at reciting prayers, better at sports and forgiveness.

You shouldn't have been stunned when you caught whiff of a proposal, but it still hurt when your sister was officially bragging about a ring. You nearly couldn't bear to be in the same room as them, too overcome with a sickening feeling every time you watched their hands meet.

It was dumb. This was just some dumb crush and it would all eventually go away. At least, that's what you kept trying to convince yourself. It got harder the closer he weaseled his way into your family, made it even more difficult to try and forget about him.

“That looks nice,” He told you one afternoon after your father’s sermon. He stood behind you, his presence felt looming as he brushed his fingertips against your bare back, “I like the color.” He replied softly, his eyes feeling heavy as they slowly drew up towards yours in the mirror.

“Thanks,” You squeaked out softly, feeling a little embarrassed as you tried to find the words to say, “My father thinks it’s too revealing.” You admitted as you glanced back to the way the straps rested off of your shoulders. You watched in the mirror as Gator’s eyes drifted down the curve of your shoulders.

“A bit,” He said in agreement, “But it makes you look mature.” He mumbled, his brown eyes darkening as he lightly drifted his fingers through the back of your dress. You felt your breath catch in your throat as he drifted his flesh against yours for just a moment before he pulled away.

“Alright,” You replied breathlessly, “I guess I could keep it on then.” You replied shyly, wondering if you’d gain more of his attention if you wore similar clothing. He smiled as bright as the sun, melting the ice walls that surrounded your heart. You blinked slowly, savoring the way that he looked at you for just a moment longer.

You were fairly certain he knew exactly what he did to you. He’d purposely sit too close to you, spreading his legs wide so that his warm thigh would constantly press into your bare skin. Occasionally he’d move his fingers over his knee, just in the right position so that he would gently rub against your skin. He always made you feel like it was too hard to breathe as the goosebumps settled over you.

If you happened to be in the way he’d gently wrap his large hands along your hips to push you out of the way. He always squeezed a little harder before he let you go, like he was savoring the sensation of your bodies meeting in the same way you were. He would lean in too close when he was speaking to you, his eyes lingering against your lips when you’d nervously spit something out. When he hugged you it was always for a second too long, his hand lingering near the curve of your ass.

“You know,” He leaned over you, two hands pressed alongside yours as your ass neatly fit against the curve of his body, “It’d probably be easier if you had help.” You felt yourself completely stiffen, your movements forgotten as you did your best not to focus on the warmth growing between where your bodies met.

“Do you even know how to cook?” You asked him softly, trying to tease him but feeling too overwhelmed with his musk filling your vicinity. He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your ear as he slowly pressed his hands around your wrists.

“You could teach me?” He suggested, nudging his chin gently against your cheek as warmth spread through your body. You were too aware of how wrong this was. He was never this touchy when anyone else was around. You swore he was doing it to torture you.

“It’s pretty simple,” You whispered softly, “I’m just cutting the vegetables.” You told him as you closed your eyes softly, hoping that he would tire of you. You could feel your knees trembling and you feared it wouldn’t take much for all of your sanity to disappear.

“Sounds boring,” He replied, sighing deeply as he rested his chin against your shoulder, “We should do something fun.” He said thoughtfully as he began to trace his free hand against the band of your jeans. You gulped, the knife shaking in your hand as you tried to stay focused. It was difficult.

You could taste the bubblegum flavor rolling off of his tongue as he continued to hum, your neck warm from where he was resting against you. Your back felt like it was on fire, sharp tingles racing up and down your spine as he gently rocked the two of you back and forth with him.

“What would that be?” You inhaled shakily as you sat the knife down. You glanced back at him, your heart stopping as you were suddenly too aware of how close he was to you. You drank in the constellations across his nose and cheeks, the intensity of his eyes as his lips curled into the softest smirk.

“I just think I should get to know you better,” He mumbled as he moved his hand further up your torso, nearly making you giggle from how ticklish your ribs suddenly were, “I have an idea, if you’re alright with it.”

“Okay,” You mumbled softly, full of trust and knowing you were okay with whatever sins the two of you would commit, “Whatever you say.” You added softly, your lungs seizing as he turned you roughly against the kitchen counters.

It was the first time you’d found yourself on your back for Gator. He had you spread across the dining room table, your clothes discarded in urgency as he knelt in front of you and flicked his tongue through your wet folds. He curled his tongue deep inside of you, rolled it against your sensitive clit as he made you see a golden light you never thought you’d be able to meet before.

Your time with Gator was frantic and desperate, full of clashing teeth and tongues as your spit mixed together messily. You think he liked that you were easy for him. You did whatever he asked, no matter how sinful it might be. It made you feel good, knowing that you did something for him that your sister couldn’t.

You liked how reckless he was. How he’d demand you suck his cock while your mother was cooking Sunday dinner in the next room. How he’d finger you underneath the table while your sister rambled into her many blessings she’d received in the past week.

You really liked the way his cock fit perfectly inside of your cunt. He was so long and thick that you nearly felt like you were being split in half the first few times. You’d grown accustomed to the stretch, desired it in the same way you desired the way he’d lick his cum from your weepy cunt and spit it back into your sinful mouth.

On his wedding day he bent you over in front of the bathroom mirror and had you crying and begging for more, praying for his cock in the same way you prayed for forgiveness later. He had pumped you full of his cum, then smirked as he withheld your panties and made you stand in front of the church in your bridesmaid dress with his cum leaking from your pussy.

Your little game was beginning to drive you insane the longer it drew on and the more you realized that there would be no clear winner. You’d either end up nursing the worst heartache of your life or you’d hurt those closest to you. Not that Gator really seemed to mind. He never brought up feelings, never spoke about how he felt. He was out of the door before you could even dress yourself again.

“I don’t want to see you tonight,” You mumbled into your pillow, sniffling as you listened to the familiar creak of your window being fully pushed up, “I’m busy.” You said at last, blinking away the tears that were lingering on your eyelashes.

“Doing what?” He chuckled as the familiar sound of his boots being kicked off echoed in your ears, “You don’t look very busy right now.” He teased you, gripping your hips as he tugged you down the length of the bed. You gasped, unable to react before he flipped you onto your back.

“Gator,” You replied softly as he dragged his fingertips down the curve of your shoulders, “Not tonight.” You told him urgently, but only spoke to try and sizzle the flames that were growing inside of you. Even now, you wanted him. You wanted him deep inside of you and for him to caress your cheeks and call you his good girl. You were desperate for it all.

“Why?” He mumbled softly, genuinely looking confused as he watched you curiously. He tilted his head, his hazel eyes more green from the light that bounced off of his smooth features. You admired the curve of his eyebrows, how he had slight bags underneath his eyes. He had been working hard.

“This is wrong.” You breathed out, almost losing your confidence at the way he slid between your parted thighs. You breathed in his musk, your body trembling underneath his large form. You melted easily against him, fitting against him like a missing puzzle piece.

“Jesus,” He groaned as he rolled his eyes, “Why are you starting on this again? It’s fine.” He mumbled as he traced his fingers across your lips. He seemed to have a fascination with him. He was always touching them, kissing them.

“It’s not fine,” You spit out, “It’s a sin. We’re going to hurt people.” You told him truthfully, moving away just enough so his hand would fall from your face. You could feel the guilt eating at you extra hard tonight as you stared up at him, wishing that there was something he could do to fix it.

“Only if they find out.” He mused, a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he peered down at you in amusement. You gulped, feeling his growing bulge pressing against the back of your thigh. You fought everything in yourself to keep from rocking up against him.

“You’re better than that.” You replied, meaning every word. He was better than this, than you. He had a good heart. You’d seen it, even when no else did.

"If I was a better guy, I'd walk away." Gator mumbled underneath his breath as he dragged his eyes over the length of your body, slowly stealing your breath from your lungs. He brought his hand down towards your chest, tracing over your bare skin before he began to pull the strings from your nightgown.

"You would." You spoke slowly, nodding your head in agreement. You could feel your body warming, your legs parting a little further to invite him to lay snugly inside of you.

"Do you want me to be a better guy?" He asked as he raised an eyebrow, his brown eyes holding your gaze harshly. You didn't need to think about his question, already knowing what your answer was.

"No." You said slowly, your fingertips twitching at the sudden spark that spread through your body. You'd never wanted something so badly before, never wanted someone this desperately.

He moved his hand to one of your boobs, squeezing harshly to earn a sound of protest from your lips. Gator leaned over you, his hands resting against the base of your neck as he pressed his lips against yours roughly. He kissed you deeply, his fingertips digging into your skin as you moved your mouth frantically against his.

He tasted of strawberries, his tongue sweet as he slid it into your mouth. You teasingly dragged your tongue against his, licking at it frantically as your shared kiss became more sloppy. You wrapped a leg around his, squeezing him closer as you began to rut your hips up against his.

“See,” Gator smirked as he pulled away for just a moment, sticking his tongue out to lick at your parted lips, “You want this just as badly. Wouldn’t you miss me?” He teased you as he brought a hand down to your tit again, palming it slowly before he began rubbing his thumb against your hardened nippled.

You moaned in response, sighing at the feeling of his rough pants that rubbed in the right way across your clothed cunt. He took the opportunity to lean forward, puckering his lips and spitting into your open mouth.

You felt pleasure rushing up your spine as you licked it from your teeth and gave it a nice swirl in your mouth before you swallowed it. He groaned, looking a little frantic as he sat up and began to roughly pull your nightgown off of your body.

“I want you so badly,” You told him honestly, wishing that you didn’t give in so easily. Your heart was hammering roughly inside of your chest as he inspected you, his eyes savoring the look of your nude body, “I’d miss you so much.” You admit, nearly feeling shy at the cocky grin that spread over his lips.

“I’d miss you too,” He murmured softly as he licked his bottom lip, smirking as he pulled his pants down just enough to free his hard cock. You sat up on your elbows, trying to get a better look as you stared at his leaking tip. You were always amazed with how long and thick he was, “Be a good girl for me.” He whispered, his voice raspy as he slid his tip inside of your fluttering hole.

You gasped, resisting the urge to roll your eyes in the back of your head so you could admire the way his cock filled your wet pussy. You moaned as he filled you to the brim, stretching and filling you in such a way that you feared you’d never feel like this with anyone else.

He groaned, his eyelashes fluttering as he slid his arm underneath your neck and pulled you close. Your foreheads brushed against one another, his nose bumping against yours as he held you still for a moment. It was intimate, but you couldn’t let yourself linger on that. You knew he was here for one thing. It hurt, but it was better than losing him completely. He could use you as much as he wanted. You’d never tire.

You rested your head back against the pillows, inhaling the scent of him as you brought your fingertips up to his strong back. You clung to him, sharing the same sounds of pleasure as he rolled his hips back and then thrusted deep inside of you.

His lips brushed against the curve of your neck, his nose digging into your skin as white hot pleasure spread down your spine. You whimpered at how stuffed full you suddenly felt, at how he was so close to you that you could feel his warm flesh pressing against your throbbing clit.

You sighed at the curve of his cock, your body pressing up against his as his fat tip pressed against your bundle of nerves with each movement. You could feel your walls squeezing around his throbbing cock, pulling him in deeper as his lips fell against your cheek. Your mind was fuzzy, high on pleasure as the guilt slowly slid from your body. You no longer cared about anything else. You just focused on the pleasure that was growing between the two of you.

“Fuck,” He hummed, whining lightly as he rocked his hips forward harder, fucking into you deeper as you mewled underneath him. Your bed moved with his thrusts, creaking into the quiet night as he brought his spare hand to pinch at your nipples, “Jesus. You’re such a little minx.” His spit out, his words harsh as his balls pressed against your backside with each movement.

You looked up at him, your eyebrows knitting together tightly as your lips parted in pleasure. You could feel the warm feeling spreading through your body, growing as you admired the way his face contorted into bliss.

“Gator,” You whined as you dug your nails into his skin, anchoring yourself as you clamped down around him. He groaned at the sensation, his eyes shutting as his lips parted in awe. You drank in the image of him, prayed that you were the only one that made him feel this way, “Right there.” You whined, desperate to feel more of his cock sinking rocking roughly inside of you.

Your cunt was soaked around him, dripping down the length of his cock as he continued to drive his cock in and out of your fluttering hole. You rolled your eyes back in pleasure this time, crooning at the way his tip hit repeatedly against the spot that made you see stars.

He crashed his lips upon your mouth, trying to silence your moans as he gripped one of your hands and squeezed it harshly. You rocked against him, a fire burning deep inside of you as you came around his cock. Your whines vibrated against his lips as your toes curled, your high vibrating through your body as he rammed his cock deeper inside of you.

“Jesus, fuck,” He groaned as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, sighing roughly as his thrusts became rougher and more sporadic. You moaned as you squeezed at his hand again, enjoying the feeling of his palm against yours as he pressed himself further inside of you, “Oh, God.” He sighed as filled you, his warm spunk coating your walls in white as he grunted lowly.

Your body spasmed up towards him, enjoying the sensation of his cum inside of you as you pulled him a little closer. You rocked your body up against his, earning a little whimper from his lips as he fell on top of you.

You squeaked underneath the weight of him, giggling as you ran your fingers across his sweaty skin. He breathed harshly, trying to catch his breath as you did what you could to cling to this moment between the two of you.

“She’s visiting her friend next week,” You whispered softly, thinking of how your sister would be traveling out of town for the weekend, “Maybe you could swing by again then? Stay a little later.” You mumbled, dragging your face away from his so you didn’t have to see how he’d reject you.

“Yeah?” He sat up a little bit, still crushing you a bit as he brushed his thumb over the curve of your bottom lip, “I’d like that.” He grinned, his lips curling into a smirk.

#gator tillman #Gator Tillman smut #Gator Tillman x reader #Gator Tillman x you #Gator Tillman x reader smut #Gator Tillman x you smut

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warrior-cats-rewritten · 4 months

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sorry to spam you, but. what happens with scourge in your rewrite? he’s my favorite <3

Please, don't ever apologize for sending lots of asks! I love answering them and they can help me think of things I hadn't thought about before, or flesh an arc out. Send as many as you want, all of you!

Anyways, Scourge, the literal scourge of my brain, because I've had to rewrite him 3 different times.

This little guy has been reworked SO much. The first was to tell the story of a downfall, how sometimes people become worse than the people who hurt them, and pay for it, but showing that there was still 'Tiny' in there, having The Rise Of Scourge end with his spirit, now back to being Tiny, reuniting with Quince, while his older self faded away.

I... Hated the vibe. And I'm probably gonna save THAT kind of ending for someone else...

I then changed it to be somewhat more like Better Bones, but with Scourge remaining leader of Bloodclan.... But that also doesn't line up with the themes of Graystripe's Clan and Ravenpaw's Path, where Fury and Neo Bloodclan come into play.

I didn't wanna kill him. I didn't want him to join Thunderclan. I didn't want him to stay in Bloodclan....

Then, it hit me.

So... Meet the new Scourge. He can say the F word.

Scourge

His story is one about coming back from the brink of no return.

Firestar has noticed something about Scourge. The fur around his neck has rubbed off, his voice is brittle, swallowing is so difficult that he drools a bit, his breathing is shallow, and he's... Painfully underweight. Now, aside from the terrifying thought that is "how strong would this guy be if he WAS properly nourished?", he realizes that even if Scourge manages to make it through this battle, he will most likely not make it to next season.

In a flash, Firestar leaps onto Scourge's back, and sinks his teeth into his scruff and collar. Just like his new deputy Longtail did to him, he begins to pull, hoping and praying that Starclan will grant another miracle.

The collar snaps, just as Scourge is about to pass out, he takes in his first deep breath in ages. Firestar pays for it with his first life.

Swiftpaw, now posthumously named Swiftclaw, is chosen as his first life to lose. He feels the pain and terror and rage and desperation that Swiftclaw did, but he also puts pieces together. Why did this happen? The real why. Not just the dogs getting a taste for cat. Not Tigerstar's seemingly unending thirst for power. Before all that.

This problem is the fault of the Clans. Churning out radicalized youths who will hurt others because of the instilled belief that Might Makes Right. Sure, Scourge has taken things too far, and seems hellbent on revenge, but the seeds of this bloody battle were planted on Clan Land.

Blackfoot, Brokenstar, Leopardstar, Mistfang, Darkstripe, Longtail, even Crookedstar and Nightstar have all fallen victim to this belief at one point of another. Tigerstar was not made in a vacuum. This kind of "kill or be killed" mentality is not making the Clans strong, it is getting cats killed.

He sees another vision of himself fighting Scourge, killing him. But his sight flickers, and it makes him sick. Scourge's build is so much like Princess. His eyes the same shade of blue that Cloudtail has. He sees his own loved ones in the one he is fighting. He is sinking his teeth and claws into his own Kin.

And then, finally, he sees the vision of Tigerpaw being goaded by Thistleclaw to beat Tiny. Then Thistlepaw being rewarded by Adderfang for sparring with a Riverclan apprentice and tearing their ear. Adderfang charging into battle alongside his father, too eager to take a life from Heatherstar Heatherstep. Tigerclaw berating Darkpaw for failing a training exercise. Darkstripe getting his new apprentice Longpaw to eat prey instead of giving it to the sick elder... The vision ending with Longtail touching noses with the newly named Swiftpaw, a line of cats behind him so long it stretches into the shadows, endless kittens behind Swiftpaw, a mentorship doomed before it even began. Generations of cats hurting each other with no end in sight.

Enough is enough.

When he comes back to life, he slams against Scourge, dodging his attack again, and looking around to confirm his worst fears. All of Bloodclan's cats are fully grown. The Clans have brought apprentices. This victory is for the future, to Save The Clans as Fire Alone.

He slams Scourge against the ground, and knocks him out. However, Rooster, a Bloodclan cat, cries out that Scourge has been killed. To be fair to Rooster, Scourge is laying limp at the feet of Lionclan's leader.

While many Bloodclan cats scurry away, some to one day become Neo Bloodclan, Firestar taps the ground to call attention to Snowpaw, using a bit of Body Speaking to silently tell the deaf apprentice to sneak Scourge to camp, grabbing Scourge's torn collar and hiding it for later.

Bloodclan negotiations begin with the cats who stay and will later be seen in Graystripe's Clan.

Meanwhile, Snowpaw drags Scourge through the woods and sneaks him into Cinderpelt's den, scaring Cinderpelt half to death. She begins to treat Scourge, removing the enforced claw tips and gathering some food for him to eat without getting sick from the influx of sudden nutrition. Snowpaw is so friendly that he manages to become friends with Scourge while he is slowly recovering, hidden in the back of Cinderpelt's den and slowly putting on some weight as he eats with his friend while getting more comfortable with others. None of this would have happened if Snowkit had been taken by that hawk...

Eventually, he is healthy enough to groom himself properly and walk around. But... What now? Can he stay in Thunderclan? Would that be a safe option for him? Firestar is still teaching cats to unlearn their biases, and Scourge may be subject to suspicion and discrimination, which isn't fair to him.

Firestar talks with Princess, and the answer is clear.

His housefolk are not home now, haven't been in a week, but... Smudge is pretty lonely. Rusty left a bit of a hole there, he could use a good friend.

Scourge is brought to Smudge's home in the dark of the night, collar in his teeth, and welcomed inside. His collar tag reads 'Tiny' but with no phone number or microchip, Smudge's people take him in as their own, and Smudge isn't so lonely anymore.

Firestar left housecat life to be wild, proving himself with a broken collar, and Scourge is leaving wild life to be a housecat once more, saving himself with a broken collar.

He is seen during Firestar's Quest, slightly chubby and full of energy, and I might have him go on the Quest with them to round out the party. The important thing is, he is happy.

Princess's Short Story, currently unnamed, is about her passing, visiting her old friends and family as a spirit. She finds Scourge's spirit, along with Quince, Socks, and Smoke, enjoying a peaceful afterlife together.

He is allowed a place in Starclan and Sky-Starclan, and will reappear during Beyond The Stars as a supporting cast member.

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badgallly · 1 year

Text

KylianXReader Smut

Where Reader is married to Kylian and he has been coming home late, causing a heated argument between the two that ends up in SMUT.

Hi guys how are you ? i've never written a smut before, here's my first smut from kylian, which is also a request from a follower. It's simple… but I hope you like it. Constructive criticism is always welcome too <3 make requests!! xoxo and stay with god <3

ps: english is not my first language ;)

I have been married to Kylian for just over 2 years, but I feel like our marriage is going downhill by the day. A few months ago Kylian started coming home late, always with a lame excuse.

And today is another one of those days. I wake up, run my hand over the sheets and feel the empty space. Again…this has become a daily routine for me. I take my cell phone and look at the time, it's just over 1:30 in the morning. Again kylian will be late. I wake up quickly and a mix of emotions take over my body, anger and disappointment. these are the feelings that most describe me right now! Just thinking that kylian might be out there making out with another bitch makes my blood boil. As Beyoncé's Hold Up song says, I don't know what's worse looking jealous or crazy.

I take a deep breath trying to calm myself down, and wait for Kylian to get home and have a serious talk with him. Today he doesn't escape me, I'm tired of being the silent wife who swallows all his lame excuses. Today this little story of his will end once and for all!! I go back to bed just waiting for Kylian to arrive, which doesn't take long to happen.

I hear keys jingle downstairs. He arrived. I hear your footsteps going up the stairs. I'm going to pretend I'm sleeping to see his sly face.

Soon the door opens, he's wearing a long-sleeved Dior shirt, sweatpants and white sneakers. Very cool for someone who would only go to a 'fraternization' of team. He looks at me, then turns his back to get out of his clothes and into something more comfortable. soon he goes to the balcony as he usually does every night, enjoying the parisian night .

I give a slight cough and then kylian turns immediately, landing her eyes on me:

_did i wake you up mon amour? Sorry!

_ you wake me up every week kylian, with your PSG fraternizations or whatever other shit you insist on coming up with.

_what ? What are y/n talking about?

_ Don't make a fool of yourself kylian, I'm not an idiot, I'm fed up with your lies and you getting home every day at dawn, you don't even pay attention to me anymore kylian!

_ y/n stop raving, you know very well that I work in one of the biggest clubs in the world and not to mention that I'm a member of it, so it's to be expected that I have more work than usual.

_ it works? So you call parties and work meetings? This isn't the first time kylian, you've been doing this for months and I've been quiet just watching, but enough! _ I say screaming and without more patience. Continuous:

_say screaming and without any more patience. Continuous: _I want the truth, do you have a lover or what? It is better to speak once and for all!

_what ? says kylian horrified _y/n you are completely crazy, you married me knowing who I am and what my life as an athlete would be like, I'm arriving late because of club meetings because of the new Champions League season, and get-togethers are part of that, I can't just ignore it them or leave them aside, I've already called you for most of them, you who never wanted to come, I'm not going to stop my life because of your whims! Says kylian also changing her voice.

_ It's always the same crap, the typical cheating man who blames his wife for his shitty mistakes. Fuck Kylian! I say screaming, I can't take it anymore with so much anger.

that moment kylian's gaze darkens looking at me for a few seconds a shiver goes up my spine as he approaches me holding my arm tightly to the bedroom _ Let go of me, let go of me! I say trying to free myself from Kylian's grip

He turns me around sharply, now gripping my waist tightly. _ Respect me y/n! Kylian says in a serious and angry voice when her eyes now filled with pure lust land on my body that is in a pink silk nightgown. I notice a bulge growing in his pants which turns me on. _Now you're going to pay me for your filthy little mouth and your lack of trust in me you little bitch.

He takes me to the bed and gets on top of me. Kylian starts to suck my neck which I'm sure will leave the purple mark afterwards. He lowers his hand to my panties, pulling them away and putting two fingers inside my pussy

_Isn't it attention you want? That's what I'm going to give you, but then don't complain if you can't walk tomorrow_ says kylian pushing her fingers inside me.

_ so wet for me, hot _ he makes back and forth movements slowly with his fingers making me moan his name

_kyliannn please

_please what a naughty bitch?

_ faster kyky

_ I want you to come on my fingers, ma belle he sticks his fingers in my center hitting my g-spot my mind goes blank and I start seeing stars, I can't feel my body anymore _Vou cum kyky! I say before I melt in your fingers I come in your fingers. He withdraws his fingers, placing them in his mouth with my liquid.

_Delicious He takes off my panties and pulls down his sweats along with his boxers, revealing his big, thick cock. I may have been married for 2 years to Kylian, but I still haven't gotten used to her size

_ of four now!! My legs were still shaking from the orgasm I just had. he orders and I immediately do what he says getting on all fours on the bed. He places his tip at my entrance making me gasp again.

he pushes his length at once making back and forth movements slowly making me adapt to his great length making me moan

_so tight my doll

_Kylian! I moaned loudly closing my eyes as he increases the thrusts he holds my face

_look at me ma belle he pulls my hair making me look at him. I look at kylian who is looking into my eyes as he starts increasing the beats on me he holds my breasts squeezing really hard

_says you're only mine and that tight pussy too

_ I'm just yours Kylian, my body is all yours! I speak weakly, the words barely making it out of my mouth.

_ Now be the good little bitch you are and cum on my dick

_keep moaning until I feel like I'm going to

_I to cum kylian...

as soon as I speak, immediately another orgasm hits me deliberately around Kylian's cock. my body goes limp but kylian keeps pushing deep and then releases his cum deep inside me and stays there for a few seconds before pulling out of me Then he kisses me, a long passionate kiss: _ je t'aime mon amour !

_I love you too Kylian! I say looking into your eyes

_I could never betray you y/n you are the only woman in my life, I only have eyes for you… you are the woman of my life y/n, I want to have children with you, you are my safe haven. I'm sorry I haven't paid attention to you lately and I made these mistakes with you I promise to be a better husband y/n I love you ma belle

_ It's okay, I forgive you… I love you too Kylian He kisses me again sweet and slow i really love him…

#kylian x reader #kylian mbappé #kylian mbappe smut #kylian mbappe imagine #kyky #kylian #kylian mbappe #mbappe x reader #mbappe psg #mbappé #mbappe

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cassandrattpd · 2 months

Text

australian surprise songs

loving him was red.

the delicate beginning rush, the feeling you can know so much, without knowing anything at all. i don't wanna look at anything else now that i saw you. i want you for worse or for better. i want your midnights. i'm a fire and i'll keep your brittle heart warm. it's a goddamn blaze in the dark and you started it. laughing with my feet in your lap like you were my closest friend. faster than the wind, passionate as sin. i can tell that it's gonna be a long road. all these people think love's for show, but i would die for you in secret. i gave you all my best mes, my endless empathy. i stay when it's hard or it's wrong or we're making mistakes. and you know that i would swing with you for the fences, sit with you in the trenches, give you my wild, give you a child, give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other, family that i chose now that i see your brother as my brother - is it enough? i'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe, or if you strike out and you're crawling home. something keeps me holding onto nothing. give me back my girlhood, it was mine first. you had me crawling for you, honey, and it never would have gone away. i stay when you're lost and i'm scared and you're turning away. i'll give you my sunshine, give you my best, but the rain is always gonna come when you're standing with me. sorry for not making you my centerfold. i'd live and die for moments that we stole on begged and borrowed time. would it be enough if i could never give you peace? you've got your share of secrets and i'm tired of being last to know. a circus ain't a love story. this thing is breaking down, we almost never speak, i down feel welcome anymore. i damn sure never would have danced with the devil. he's gonna burn this house to the ground. fighting with him is like trying to solve a crossword and realizing there's no right answer. you say "i don't understand" i say "i know you don't." he poisoned the well, every man for himself. my mistake, i didn't know to be in love you had to fight to have the upper hand. did i close my fist around something delicate, did i shatter you? i thought i had you figured out. i never learned to read your mind, i couldn't turn things around. i can't let this go, i fight with you in my sleep. did i say something way too honest made you run and hide like a scared little boy? how can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dying? i fake a smile so he won't see. i sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick. you never gave a warning sign (i gave so many signs). how the hell did we lose sight of us again? 'cause you were never mine. was it over when she laid down on your couch? she's got everything that i have to live without. before you go tell me this, was she worth it? your new girl is my clone. was she worth this mess? you should've said no, baby, and you might still have me. tell myself it's time now gotta let go. should've known i'd be the first to leave. could've loved you all my life if you hadn't left me waiting in the cold. so step right out, there is no amount of crying i can do for you. suddenly this summer it's clear. i'm getting tired even for a phoenix. pulled my car off the road to the lookout, could've followed my fears all the way down. can't breathe whenever you're gone. you're in london and i break down 'cause it's not fair that you're not around. i know my pain is such an imposition. my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand. you feel so low you can't feel nothing at all. it's hard to be at a party when you feel like an open wound. the tomb won't close, stained glass windows in my mind.

#taylor swift #please ignore my middle of the night thread weaving at the present as theres a whole other half of this that didnt even fit on the post #that i need to reblog it and add #but its just like.....the australian surprise songs were entirely a narrative in and of themselves and i could NOT stop thinking about this #so i have been maniacally working on this #you may freely reblog once complete with its second half

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katethewriter · 2 years

Text

Just Come Home

sequel to Wish We Could Be Like That

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader

Words: 11k~

Summary: Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Inspired by the song Where's My Love by SYML

Warnings: bad words, bad guys, canon typical violence, an extremely long chapter

A/N: Remember when I said its gonna get worse before it gets better? hehehe... This part includes a long-awaited confrontation! I also hope this is a satisfying ending for the story. I don't really have anything planned next for this series, but I'm not against adding to it. If you have any ideas, hit me up! I might see if it can fit into the series. I'm almost certain this is the longest single chapter I've ever written for a fic. I hope you guys enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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

Part One - Part Two - Part Three

Near silent foot steps announce Clint’s return.

For the last two hours, he had left to pick up the next shipment you are to pass to the tracksuits. As he enters the room, he looks at you sheepishly. His hands mindlessly fiddle with a small piece of paper with every step.

You barely spare him a glance before returning to the notes you were studying.

The two of you have barely spoken since that morning you finally broke the news of your relationship. Beyond the few questions he asked you about the timeline of your relationship, not much has been said about the matter. The longer the information sets in, the more he contemplates the last year and his interactions with you specifically.

You can see the guilt setting in more and more with each day. You want to give him the benefit of the doubt. He had only been trying to be a good friend. He thought he was looking out for Natasha. That’s what he was trying to do, unknowingly causing the pain he was trying to prevent. You try to remember his intentions were in a good place, despite bring terribly misguided.

However, the sting of betrayal still lingers. The last six months spent with no contact from Natasha and Wanda, without even a chance to say goodbye, all because he meddled into a relationship that wasn’t his to meddle in to begin with.

He comes to a stop in front of you, holding the folded page between you. “This was with the shipment,” Clint breaks the three day silence, “its for you.”

When you look up, he doesn’t meet your gaze. You stare at the offered paper for a moment before finally reaching out to take it from him. As the archer shuffles back to his side of the room, you turn the page over in your hands. Unfolding it slowly, you instantly recognize the handwriting, and your breath catches in your throat.

Y/n,

I wish I could just speak to you directly. I know it would do me good to hear your voice right now, Wanda too. We meant it when we said we are incomplete without you. Unfortunately, this note will have to do for now. We understand this mission is very important, and you have to do what you have to do. However, we miss you more than words can describe and want nothing more than for you to come home as soon as you can. Work fast, but please be careful. Your safety is paramount. We will wait however long we must to be with you again.

We love you.

-N

You don’t notice you are crying until a tear has landed on the paper. You quickly swat away the tears, very aware of the archer still in the room with you. You look up and lock eyes with him. By the look on his face, you know that he read it. He must have to know that it was meant for you.

“I’m sorry,” Clint whispers.

Silence stretches between opposite sides of the room. You need to talk. Decisions have to be made, plans discussed and orchestrated. The next exchange is tomorrow night, and they will want your answer by then.

You fold the paper and tuck it beneath your pillow, “I know.”

“For all of it,” he responds, “for dragging you on this mission, for how I acted, for what I did that night.” He’s had time to think, practiced a few speeches in his head. The apology he owes you. The apology he owes Nat. He can’t seem to come up with the right words, but he tries anyway. He knows you need to clear the air, so you can complete the mission and get home where you belong. “None of it was ok,” he clears his throat.

It’s a big change, an almost complete 180. He wouldn’t blame you for not forgiving him. He knows he doesn’t deserve it. He hasn’t earned it, but he wants to.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Clint asks, “that night or even after?”

Incredulous, you look across the room, “would you have believed me?”

He’s quiet, contemplating his answer. He wants to say yes, that he would have believed you and reacted differently. If he’s honest though, he doesn’t know. Was he too blinded by his protective instincts to have seen the truth? “I don’t know.”

You nod. You can appreciate his honesty at least. “I was insecure,” you admit, “I was worried that you were right. That my involvement in our relationship was hurting them.” Your hand raises to your chest, running your fingers over the rings. Reminding yourself of the reassurances they promised you.

“I was wrong,” Clint nods towards the note under your pillow, “they’re obviously better off with you than without. I’m sorry I didn’t see it.”

You nod silently. As day turns to night and the sky goes black, you remember the mission and what you have to do tomorrow night. “I have to go,” you state, knowing that he will understand what you mean, “we both know that.”

Clint shakes his head, “I can’t let you.”

Groaning, you roll your eyes, “Clint-“

“Y/n,” he interrupts before you can even say anything, “I can’t. If I send you in alone, Nat will never forgive me.”

“You’re a little late for that, bud,” you retort with a raised brow.

He pauses for a moment, contemplating the cryptic message in your response. “She knows?”

You nod in response.

“Does she know about that night in the hall?” he specifies, “about the bruises?”

You nod again.

He furrows his brow, “but she never said anything.”

“She found out the night before we left for the mission,” you explain, “Wanda too, at the bar.”

Clint’s face falls even more, “was she pissed? Nat?”

A chuckle escapes your throat, “I believe her exact words were ‘I’m gonna kill him.’”

He nods solemnly. He knows he deserves it.

Silence falls once again. You both know what you have to do, though he doesn’t want to admit it.

“I have to go in,” you repeat, “it’s the only way we’re going home.”

Clint nods reluctantly, hoping this won’t be the last nail in his coffin.

~I’ve got a fear, oh, in my blood.~

When Wanda rolls over in the morning, she is met with cold sheets as usual. Natasha left long before for her morning run. The sokovian buries her face in the pillow, inhaling as much of your scent as possible.

Late in the night, she had made her way to Y/n’s room. Unable to sleep until she was wrapped completely in her girlfriend’s bedding. When Natasha had woken with Wanda’s movement, she quickly followed. Lying in Y/n’s bed, they were almost able to trick their brains into believing that she’s here.

As she sits up in the bed, Wanda can’t ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something doesn’t feel right, but she can’t put a finger on what it is. The worry settles into her bones as she gets up and begins the day.

Maria and Steve are standing in the same spot looking over the same display boards they always are when Natasha makes her way into the command room. Instantly, she can feel the energy is different today.

The pair are tensely focused on the information on the screens, hushed words exchanged quickly with a sense of urgency. Worry pools in the widow’s stomach like it never has before.

“Any news?” she asks as she quickly approaches the pair.

They startle at her sudden entrance. They turn to her, and then quickly look to each other in silent hesitation.

“What’s going on?” Nat asks after they are silent a moment too long for her liking.

Maria takes a deep breath looking to the ex-assassin, “Y/n missed the check in.”

The worry in Natasha’s gut quickly turns to panic, but she tries to remain calm. She can’t help if she can’t maintain control. “When?” her voice is tight. Her jaw clenched.

“Two nights ago,” Steve relents.

“Two nights?!” The Russian can’t control herself as the panic slips into anger, “What do you mean two nights ago?! Why haven’t you done anything?! Why am I just now hearing this?!”

“They had an exchange with the tracksuits the night before last. They were to check in immediately following,” Maria quickly informs her. “There was a possibility the exchange would lead to further interaction with the group. Clint checked in after and confirmed Y/n got the progress with the group.”

“We should have heard from her last night,” Steve added, and the tone of his voice told Natasha all she needed to know.

Y/n has gone dark.

“What about Clint?” she asks quickly.

Maria turns, “we’re trying to reach out now. We’ve been waiting for him to contact us back.”

“Is he not with her?”

Steve shakes his head, “he said they only agreed to work with her.”

Nat’s stomach drops somehow further than it already had. Immediately thoughts start spiraling in her head.

Clint hates y/n. Is he telling the truth? How much can they trust him? He threatened her. Was he really capable of leaving her in a dangerous position? He hurt her. Could he have put her in harm’s way on purpose?

Is that damn secret gonna cost her and Wanda the love of their lives?

TWO NIGHTS EARLIER

The warehouse is empty when you arrive, as always.

Clint parks, but neither of you exit the car. This could be the last chance to talk before this mission takes a serious turn for you.

“Are you sure?” he asks again. He’s hoping you’ll say no. That this exchange will be just like all the others. They will come, take the shipment and then leave the two of you to make your way back to base together.

“Yes,” you nod. “It’s the in we’ve been waiting for.”

He sighs, “I still say we should wire you.”

This….. again….

“We’ve been working with them for almost six months,” you parrot the same debate you’ve been going through for the past two days. “They’re barely starting to trust us. They’re gonna check for things like a wire. They’re too paranoid not to.”

The archer shakes his head. He hates the plan but knows there is nothing he can do to change it. “You have got to be careful,” he faces you directly, “I won’t be in there to cover your six. Get the information you can and get out as fast as possible. My phone will be in my hands at all times, but don’t try to reach out unless you know you’re alone. Once you’re out, call me. I will meet you whenever and wherever I need to, ok?”

For the first time in months, you look into his eyes and see your friend staring back at you. The guy he’d been before he questioned your involvement with your girlfriends. “Thanks,” you say, actually trusting the words he said to you.

“Let’s get this over with and go home,” he half smiles.

The flash of headlights grab your attention, signaling the arrival of the tracksuits. The two of you exit the car as the three vehicles come to a stop before you. The men start emerging from the cars, and you are met with the usual crew. The last to exit the car is Kazi. The boss’s #2, and the one you were leaving with tonight.

“Long time, no see,” Clint quips as he opens the trunk of the SUV revealing the crates of the substance you are particularly familiar with after months and months of study and handling.

Kazi’s men begin checking the shipment before loading it into their vehicles. The young man in charge approaches you, “I hear you have an answer for me.”

“What’s in it for me?” you bargain, knowing a blind acceptance is suspicious to men who only give when they take first.

Kazi’s lips curl into an amused smirk, “I think you’ll find you’ve been well compensated.” He nods in the direction of Clint and his men.

Once all the goods were transferred, one of their guys pass your partner a large envelope, like they always do at the end of your exchanges. Clint opens and counts the bills, quickly realizing there was more than was typically provided in their previous transactions. The archer looks up to you and nods.

“…and there’s more where that comes from if the boss is impressed.”

You lock eyes with Clint one last time. This is the point of no return. You will officially be on your own. You nod at him, before turning back to Kazi, “well what are we waiting for?”

“Alright,” he grins. He turns towards his car, raising an arm in a silent invitation. Kazi’s guys load into the other two cars and drive off. When you reach the car, he quickly opens the passenger side door for you. You sit down and buckle up as he closes the door and rounds the car.

Clint watches the two of you sit in the car before pulling away to follow the others. Once he can no longer see the taillights, he climbs into the SUV quickly pulling out his phone to check in with the Hill.

~She was carried up

into the clouds high above~

The car ride across town was comfortable enough. Conversation flows pretty easily between you and Kazi. You listen to him explain a little bit about the power structure of the group. He quickly names and describes a handful of the people you were going to meet and work with. He cracks jokes and spills a little bit of gossip amongst the group.

He actually doesn’t seem like that bad of a guy, you think to yourself. You could actually see yourself hanging out with him, if only he wasn’t a criminal.

Eventually he pulls into a parking garage beside what used to be a KB Toy Store. Its only a couple blocks from the abandoned office building you have called home for the past six months. You file that information away, just incase you need to hide quickly.

You exit the car and follow Kazi as he walks to a door on the adjacent wall. They’re steel double doors with large windows in the top half of the door. The view inside is blocked however with several layers of what looks like newspapers.

He stops in front of the door, turning to face you. “I gotta check you first,” he waits for just a moment before elaborating, “can never be too careful.” He chuckles in a way that you know you have no chance of refusing.

Lifting your arms in compliance, “by all means, check away.”

He quickly pats you down quickly until his hand lands on the hand gun strapped to your hip hidden beneath your jacket. He quickly lifts an eyebrow.

You cheekily lift one as well, “can never be too careful.” You smirk, trying to act smug to hide the pounding of your heart.

After a moment, Kazi breaks out a satisfied smile, “boss is gonna love you.” He turns back to the door, knocking three times, pausing for a second, knocking twice, pausing, then knocking three times again. After the sequence, he steps back, and the door is pushed open from the inside.

Kazi leads you through the door and immediately a guy is on you, beginning to pat you down. Kazi holds up his hand, “I already checked her.” He grabs the guys arm and shoves him off you, “she’s clean.”

“Except for the piece on her hip,” a booming voice echoes against the walls. You turn in the direction of the sound and see probably the biggest man you’ve ever seen (with the exception of the hulk) approaching you. You recognize him immediately. Its Fisk, aka Kingpin.

The younger man beside you huffs in amusement, “tell him what you told me.”

“New York’s a big city,” you state confidently, relying on the adrenaline to keep you going, “a girl can never be too careful.”

Fisk cracks smile, “fair enough. Name?”

“Unimportant,” you try to brush off the question.

He fixes you with a stare, “we use names here.”

You suddenly feel rather small under his gaze, “Y/M/N.” Not your official real name that you use, but close enough to not be a lie that could be easily forgotten.

He nods over his shoulder, “right this way, Y/M/N.” He leads you through a short entrance way that you can easily identify as the abandoned toy store. After a moment, you enter a larger room, that looks like a thrift store’s version of a chemistry lab. Tables are covered in tools, test tubes, and large containers of different substances. A wide array of materials, chemicals, powders, unidentifiable liquids and gel like substances. You quickly recognize a few. The one you have provided for the past six months, and others that you learned were often combined with it.

Several men are working meticulously measuring, combining, observing the different ratios as they try to create something. What they are trying to create, you have no idea. They pour over pages and pages of notes.

Kingpin holds up a page that lists detailed instructions for a certain combination of the materials you see scattered about the counters. “This is what we’re wanting,” he offers you the sheet for you to examine more closely, “but these idiots can’t seem to work it out. The subjects don’t survive the first 5 minutes of the transformation.”

At his critique, the men working in the “lab” look up in clear worry.

“Your reputation precedes you,” he taps you lightly on the back, “I hear you’re something of an expert in this area. Maybe you can show this crew how its done?”

You are far from the expert he’s described, but right now, you need to be. Quite literally, your life may depend on it. You may not be an expert, but you have learned quite a lot over the past six months. Enough so that as you glance over the notes quickly, you can almost instantly know what you’re looking at.

It’s a formula for a serum, specifically a very early, rudimentary version of the super soldier serum.

You had become very familiar with it, while studying the component that you have been supplying. Wherever they found these notes, must have been very outdated. This formula didn’t work. A few of the ingredients had later been replaced for better alternatives, some had been dropped altogether because they were not necessary for the serum’s effectiveness.

The biggest problem with this particular formula was that none of the subjects survived. With the perfect ratio, the subject would gain the strength and endurance of a super soldier, but due to unforeseen side effects, it had a very short shelf life. Usually within the following 24 hours, the subject would suddenly seize and eventually succumbing the side effects of the serum.

That’s why they can’t figure it out. The formula was just simply flawed beyond repair.

In an instant, your blood turns cold. The only way out of this building for you is to successfully manufacture the drug. If you did that, who knows how many innocent people will be at risk. Fortunately, quick thinking grants you the best plan of action.

Fix the formula just enough so its successful for a very short amount of time. You don’t need much, just enough to display the effects and get out before the serum kills the subject.

“Well, your problem is that these directions are almost over 100 years old,” you walk to one of the counters. Quickly grabbing a pen, you adjust the ratios, “this was one of the first attempts for the serum. They had to adjust the formula to make it successful.”

Once you are finished writing in the necessary changes, you fully enter the “lab” and begin gathering what you’ll need. The men, who had been working tirelessly, watch in shock as you confidently work circles around them.

This irritates Fisk beyond words, “start taking notes, idiots.” All of them hurriedly grab the closest pen and piece of paper available to them. Their focus then sets directly to you and every move you make.

The creating of the serum takes a few hours, requiring certain periods of heat and cold to activate different components. Once you’re finished, the sun has risen again. Neither you, the other men in the lab, or Kazi have slept at all during the process.

When Kingpin returns in the morning, you have a vial of the perfectly effective serum. You know you need to leave soon, but Fisk insists you stay through the first test.

They lead in a man with his mouth gagged. He is forcefully strapped to a chair for the injection. A part of you pities the man frantically trying to break out of confinement and as far away from your needle as possible. Then you remember, he’s a tracksuit, and the entire city depends on you getting out of here in time to gather the team for a strike.

Once you’ve injected the subject with the serum, it takes only a few seconds to fully work its magic. A small audience has gathered to observe the first trial of this new serum. He begins to thrash violently, even more so than when he was dragged into the room.

You all watch as his muscles swell, until the point a handful of the restraints burst under the force. It takes about 5 minutes for the initial effect to come to a stop, but then, he manages to break free of the restraints that remained like they were nothing. You turn your attention to the others in the room to gage their reactions.

Kingpin slightly smirked with victory. Kazi smiles at you, mentally congratulating himself for being the one to find exactly who they needed to make it work. The other lab workers stare awestruck that in a few hours you had accomplished what they have tried to for the better part of a year.

“Well done,” Fisk is impressed and anxious. He finally has what he needs to push is plan of city wide domination. “Put the formula in writing for our guys, and you are free to go.”

Instantly you do as your told. This new super soldier is a ticking time bomb, and you need to be far away when it explodes. After answering a few questions from the lab workers, you make your exit. Kazi stops you, asking if you need a ride somewhere. When you say that won’t be necessary, his face drops much like a kicked puppy.

…maybe Clint was right. You do have an admirer.

The moment you step foot outside of that store, you walk quickly in the direction of your base. You wait until you are a block away before pulling out your phone and call Clint.

Before he can even say hello, you interrupt him.

“Super Soldier Serum,” you say as soon as he picks up the phone.

“What?” he asks as he watches you walking further away from the building.

“That’s what they’re trying to make,” you continue, “the super soldier serum. They’ve accrued enough materials to inject over two thirds of their organization.”

When you round the corner, leaving Clint’s line of vision, he quickly makes his way down the building he was currently in, and he begins to make his way to meet you at the base. “With kind of man power…” he thinks out loud.

“They could level the city,” you finish the sentence for him. “I had to fix their formula-“

“You gave them the recipe?!”

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see you, “not exactly. I had to give them something to get out of there. I gave them one of the first, unsuccessful, instructions. The subjects won’t survive the next 24 hours.”

The archer can sense where this info goes to, “how long do we have?”

“Don’t know. Its different with each person,” you explain, “could be very late tonight or he could already be dead.”

Walking faster now, Clint feels a new level of urgency, “we need to get to the compound now.”

“and raid the store front. They’re already working on the next round of injections,” you warn, “They could inject a large number of them before they realize their poisoning themselves. At that point, they’ll be so pissed they won’t care what they do in the city.”

“Meet me at base.”

“A block and a half away,” you confirm, walking a little quicker desperate to get there now. So busy relaying the information, you don’t notice the two guys trailing you from across the street. Both are tracksuits; they sneak behind you waiting for their shot.

You’ve only just hung up the phone and turn down an alley to reach the back entrance of your building when a sharp pain pierces your abdomen. There’s no sound. No gunshot. No disturbance; nothing that should have stopped you on your way home. However, the next thing you know, you’re on the ground laying in a quickly growing pool of blood.

~If you’ve bled, I’ll bleed the same.~

“What’s wrong?” Wanda asks frantically entering the command room. All of the intense thoughts from everyone in the room had cut through any train of thought she had. Something is clearly happening, but the thoughts overlap and intertwine so much that she can’t make sense of any of it.

Nat turns to her girlfriend, “Y/n missed her check in two nights ago.”

The sokovian’s eyes go wide as she looks frantically between all three of them, waiting for more. “What?”

“She didn’t check in that night; there was a possibility that she wouldn’t. If she missed it, she was supposed to check in the next day, yesterday,” Maria quickly explains. “She didn’t.”

“and Clint?” the witch asks. One of the tings that worried her the most is that y/n was out there with him.

Steve responds, “we’re trying to reach out to him now. They were separated. He was supposed to check in after she got out sometime yesterday.”

“He hasn’t answered his damn phone,” Nat growls.

The four of them are in deep conversation, searching for any traffic cams or security cameras with in a five block radius. They’re so deep in conversation, the miss entirely the entrance of the very person they were trying to contact.

“Why aren’t they together?”

“Because I was sent to assemble back up,” a voice immediately sends their attention straight to the door. All of their eyes land on the archer.

A flurry of emotions race through Natasha and Wanda, fear, confusion, shock, panic, and lastly pure hot anger.

They haven’t seen him since that night at the bar, since they found out how he had hurt their girl. On sight, the betrayal and anger bubble to the surface. Wanda’s hands and eyes glow red unintentionally. Natasha immediately walks up to him.

The widow grabs his bicep the same way he had grabbed y/n. With everything in her, she swings him around to the closest wall. When his back hits the wall, he winces in pain.

The others are shocked still at Natasha’s violently angry outburst. “Hey Nat, cool it,” Steve attempts to deescalate the situation and break up the fight, but Clint holds out a hand, stopping him before he can really intervene.

“No, Cap,” he half groans, half whispers.

Natasha is not oblivious to the exchange. “No, cause you know you deserve it; is that what you did to y/n? Is that how you grabbed her?”

“Yes,” he admits to his friend’s face.

Natasha grabs him by the collar, pulling him away from the wall, just to slam him back into it, “how does that feel?” She only gives him two seconds to respond. When he doesn’t, she repeats the movement: pulling him away and shoving him back. “…and you deserve it. Don’t you? You deserve and she never did.”

Clint can only nod, “I do deserve it, but Nat this has to wait-“

She pushes him against the wall again, “Tell me, did you even give her a chance to defend herself before you started throwing her around?”

He has no words for his actions, no excuse. He sighs, “no.”

Natasha leans closer until she is in his face, “then why should I give you that curtesy?”

“Because Y/n needs us right now,” Clint states urgently.

She wants to keep going, wanted to punch him, give him a share of what he had inflicted on y/n, but at the sound of her name she pauses for a moment. She pushes off him, unwilling to risk y/n for her anger.

“Where is she?”

“Hiding near our base. I had to leave her and come get the team,” he looks over each of them quickly. “We have to go raid the old KB Toy Store and get back to her as soon as we possibly can.”

Maris from the place she had been observing quietly, steps up and asks, “why the KB Toy Store?”

“The tracksuits are using it as their front. Y/n got in, and they’re trying to make the super soldier serum,” he locks eyes with Steve for a moment. “She had to help them to get out of there. She gave them a formula that lasts max 24 hours before it kills the soldier. He wants inject a large number of his men within the next few hours. We have to stop them, before they realize they’re dying and take it out on civilians.” Maria quickly jots down everything that he says, so she can begin to organize a team.

“Where is she?” Natasha hisses, “why didn’t you come back together?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but his voice hesitates to form words. “She told me to leave her and come back for her. She wouldn’t have made the trip.”

“Why?” its Wanda who asks this time. Her eyes have begun to fade, but her hands still glow bright red.

Clint looks between the two of them anxiously, “because she got hit. GSW to the abdomen.”

Once again, rage erupts in Natasha, “you left her out there?” She takes him by the shirt and throws him on the ground. Kneeling over him, she only gets a few good punches in before Steve is pulling her off of him.

Wanda steps between them, while Steve continues to hold back Natasha until she has calmed down as much is possible considering the current state of events.

Clint shakily raises to his feet, np sporting a split lip and an already swelling face, “she made me come back for help.”

“How can we believe you?” Wanda questions. He had hurt her before, in her mind, it is entirely possible he would do it again.

“Because she gave me this,” he reaches into his pocket and produces a necklace, but not just any necklace. He holds up y/n’s necklace with two rings hanging like charms on a bracelet, the one they had given her as a promise of her place in their hearts.

In an instant, the necklace is wrapped in red light, ripped from his grasp, and flies to Wanda’s outreached hand.

She hates the thought of him having this in his possession. It was meant to stay on y/n’s neck always until they present her with a ring of her own.

“This doesn’t prove anything,” Wanda says through gritted teeth.

The archer sighs, wondering what it will take for them to listen and heed his warnings. An idea come to mind, “read my mind, Wanda. See the memory for yourself. If that will convince you that we need to move fast.”

Wanda closes the distance between them, and she wants to use her powers to throw him against the wall as Nat did. But she wants y/n home and safe more. Raising a hand, she taps the side of his head. She slips with him deep into his subconscious and more specifically, the memory in question.

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

Clint never heard a gun shot. He just rounded the corner to find Y/n on the ground rapidly losing blood.

“Y/n?” he runs over quickly. When he kneels down and sees you’re awake enough to talk to him, he feels a moment of relief, but only briefly. Taking in the blood loss, he knows you need help immediately, “its ok, y/n. You’re gonna be ok. I’m gonna get you out of here.”

He quickly does his best stop the flow of blood. He rips the bottom of your shirt to pack the wound, and another longer strip he wraps all the way around your stomach to keep as much pressure on the wound as possible.

Even despite the blood loss, you have enough cognitive function to think clearly about the situation, “Clint, you gotta go.”

“We will, give me one more second, then we’re on the move,” he continues to work on the improvised medical attention, frantically doing everything he can to get you well and stable enough to hurry across town.

“Clint, we’ll never make it,” you shake your head, “if this was Kingpin, he’ll have people, maybe even super soldiers all over the place canvasing the city searching for me. You need to go get back up and stop him before he succeeds.”

“No,” he shakes his head stubbornly, “I gotta get you back to Nat.”

“This is how you do that, Clint,” you try to reason, the clock is winding down. It may already have ran out. You try again, “I won’t make it across the city. I’m a breathing bread crumb trail that with lead them straight to you. You can come back for me.”

He halts his movements for a split second to look at you, “what would I even say to them? If I come back alone, they won’t believe me. They’ll think I left you for dead.”

You have to admit he has a point there. He needs proof. Something that will make them know to listen to what he has to say. With shaky hands covered in blood, you reach up to unclasp your necklace. Once its off, you clasp it again, and hold it out for him to take.

“Take this.”

“No,” Clint denies.

You don’t give in, “give it to them, they’ll listen if you have it.”

Tying one last knot in the make shift bandage, he’s almost ready to set you on your feet the best you could manage. “Give it to them yourself.”

“Clint please,” you beg with a despair in your voice that cracks his resolve, “I didn’t get to say goodbye.” Tears roll down your cheeks, suddenly facing a fear you never knew you had, “please, I can’t die, Clint. I can’t die without... I never got to say goodbye.” Your hand shakes as you hold up the necklace once more, “please. It’s the only chance I’ll see them again.”

He finally relents, taking the necklace from your grasp. He quickly looks around the alley, trying to fins a place that leaves at least somewhat hidden. He quickly lifts you and sits you beside the dumpster about five yards away. He finds the remnants of a cardboard box. Takin the larger pieces, he leans them over you and against the side of the dumpster. “Stay here,” he urges you, like there’s anywhere you could go. “This should keep you pretty hidden,” he says to you before placing the last piece over your face, “just incase they come back. Try to stay quiet and awake. We’ll come get you as soon as we can, I promise. Just stay with us.”

After that he covers your face, like he did with the rest of your body. Clint stands quickly reaching for his phone so he can call for backup, but he can’t seem to find it. He takes off down the alley without it. He doesn’t have time to look for it.

Y/n doesn’t have time for him to look for it.

Dodging the tracksuits while traveling across the city, proved to be much harder than Clint had anticipated. Several times, he had to hide low for a while, until the person moved on. All in all, it’s the next morning by the time he runs the compound doors.

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

Wanda exits Clint’s memories and is thrusted back into the present. Immediately, her face crumples, and she buries it in her hands. She pivots falls back into Natasha’s embrace.

~If you’re scared, I’m on my way.~

No one needs to ask what that means. Everyone knows that Clint must be telling the truth.

“We have to go,” Wanda lifts her head, “We have to go now.” Natasha nods, pulling the younger woman close to her again.

A brief lock of eyes between Natasha and Steve is what finally tips the ball into rolling. The super soldier immediately sends out an urgent message announcing an emergency mission. Everyone is to suit up immediately and report to the command room right away.

Natasha and Wanda are the first to make it to the command, wanting no needing to be out there right now. Clint is a close second.

When he enters, the couple were staring at a monitor. A video clip plays on repeat. It’s a bit below average in quality, but they don’t care. They watch you exit the front and walk down the sidewalk until you walk out of frame.

They barely spare the archer a glance, before turning back to the video.

“I’m sure you don’t want anything to do with me, and I totally get that,” he pauses briefly as he formulates his next sentence in his head, “I just need to say I’m so-“

“You can apologize after we save her, and not a moment before,” Natasha cocks an eyebrow. Clint has come to know that facial expression well over the years, but never has it been directed at him. “Understood?”

He nods in solemn confirmation. They wait for the rest of the team, filled with anxious nerves and deathly silence.

Around 10 minutes later, the entire team is in the command room. Steve explains briefly the rolls for each person. You were splitting into groups, each group going after their respective objectives.

The vast majority of the group will be raiding KB Toy Store.

While Natasha, Wanda, and Clint will be on the second objective: locate Y/n and get her back to the compound as fast as possible. Wanda and Nat were assigned this group for the obvious reasons. Clint was chosen solely because he knows where he hid her. Not to mention that he volunteered himself for this team.

They take a helicopter across the city to avoid the delay of New York traffic. They landed on the rooftop of a building equal distance from KB Toy Store and where Clint left y/n. Everyone pours out and runs to do what they need to, knowing how time sensitive the whole situation is.

~Did you run away?

Did you run away? I don’t need to know.~

Clint leads Natasha and Wanda to the alley behind base.

When they turned down the alley, neither of them saw y/n, but they did see the rather large blood mark that still stains the concrete below. Sensing their panic, “Its ok, I moved her.”

The three of them run to the far side of the dumpster only to be met with several pieces of cardboard with some blood stains.

“I left her right here!” the archer exclaims. He told her to stay put, that he was coming back. A nagging feeling in the bag of his throat suggests that maybe she was picked up. However, they have no clues as to who would have done that. It could be anybody, the tracksuits, an ambulance, some other random stranger that just happened across a pretty helpless woman.

Wanda takes a deep breath trying to remain as calm as possible, even when it feels like her world is crumbling in front of her eyes. “I can’t feel her,” she’s unable to hear y/n’s thoughts.

“She might be unconscious,” Natasha reassures Wanda and honestly herself too. The widow is in deep contemplation of where y/n may have gone. “How far could she have gone if she left on her own?” Nat asks.

Clint shakes his head slightly, “not very far. I had to carry her from here to there,” pointing between the large blood stain and the side of the dumpster.

“So we start close and work our way out,” the widow takes a look at the surrounding buildings, “is she familiar with any buildings in this area?”

“Yeah, this building is our base,” he nods in the direction of the base. “but I doubt she could manage to get herself in there in the state she was in.”

“Have to start somewhere,” Nat tries to pull open the door, but is met with a resistance that will not budge.

“Wait,” Clint quickly comes up behind her holding a key, “we’re gonna need this.”

Nat takes a step back so he can get to the door, “does she have a key?”

“She does,” he turns the key and pulls the door open, “but I don’t know if it was on her person.

Upon entering, Nat and Wanda understand why this is the place is a perfect base while undercover. It doesn’t look like anyone has been here in years and years.

“Ok there are 14 floors,” Clint states, “our set up is on the eighth. We’d probably get the best results if we split up”

“Agreed,” Nat nods. “So, here’s the plan. Clint, go to the top floor and work your way down. Wanda, start from the ground floor and work your way up. I’ll start at 5 and work my way up. Everyone ok with that plan?”

Wanda and Clint quickly agree, and the three of them scatter. Each going to their separate way to search for y/n.

The archer is intimately familiar with the building so he quickly clears the top floors, making it all the way to the eighth floor. Once there, he runs into their setup hoping y/n has somehow managed to get herself up there. Unfortunately, the room is empty. Still determined to find her, he sits at the desk and begins searching through the security feed of the building, hoping it can show him where she went.

Natasha floors 5, 6, and 7. As she sweeps through 8, she hears what sounds like the typing of a keyboard. She follows the sound to a set of double doors; one of which is propped open. She takes a deep breath before entering the room and aiming at the room’s occupant. All she finds is Clint sitting at a desk. Lowering her weapon, she relaxes a bit.

“Have you already checked every floor above us?” she asks. All she gets a nod in response. Quickly she does the math in her head. How had he cleared 6 floors while she had only made it through 3? “… and you’re positive she’s not up there?”

Clint doesn’t even turn his eyes from the computer screens, “Nat, I have lived in this building for the last 6 months. The floors are clear.”

The widow approaches the desk and peers over his shoulder. Her eyes go wide when she sees the security footage he is looking through. He has all angles of the building. If y/n was anywhere in the building, they should be able to find her with the footage.

Wanda searches floors 1, 2, and 3 with no luck. She’s trying to move as fast as she can, while also being as thorough as possible. Its that thoroughness that keeps her from clearing the rooms as quickly as she likes.

Once she is certain the third floor is empty, she enters the stair well to move up to the fourth. She takes the first set of steps two at a time. When she turns to raise the next set of steps, she freezes mid-step, and stares.

“Y/n?”

At the top of the steps, you lay unconscious, leaning against the wall.

“Y/N!”

Immediately, Wanda flies up the stairs and drops next to you. She takes you into her arms. She cradles your head in one arm, while the other hand strokes your cheek. Your skin is ghostly pale, a clear sign of the amount of blood you’ve lost.

“Come on, detka,” Wanda calls to you, trying anything to wake you. She switches from stroking your cheek to patting it. “Please lyubov, wake up,” she desperately wants to see your eyes. “Open your eyes,” she tries to shake you awake, but your eyes remain closed, “Y/n please.”

Her voice waivers in terror. Pressing two fingers to the soft spot just below your jaw, she prays to feel a pulse. For a moment, she feels nothing and fears the worst. “No please,” her lip quivers in anguish, “… please detka, no.”

Wanda presses harder, willing herself to find it, and she does. Its weak and frighteningly slow, but its there. She’ll take it. She immediately raises her hand to press the com in her ear, “I found her! I’ve got her. We’re in the stairwell between the third and fourth floor, far east side of the building.”

On the eighth floor, Nat and Clint jump up from the desk, sprinting out of the room. “Is she…” the widow can’t bring herself to finish the question.

“She’s alive,” Wanda answers, not needing words to know what Nat meant. “She’s unconscious and nonresponsive, but she has a pulse,” Wanda looks up from your face to look towards the door she believes they will come through, “she needs medical attention now.”

“Get her to the chopper,” Steve’s voice rings through the com, “and take her to the compound.”

She shakes her head, even though no one can see her, “I don’t think she’ll make it to the chopper-“

“Wanda?”

Your girlfriend’s attention snaps down to you. She had been so busy trying to communicate with the others, she had missed you opening your eyes and staring up at her. Tears of relief flood her face, and she smiles down at you, “hi detka.” She cups your cheek gently stroking it with her thumb.

Leaning ever so softly into her touch, you try to return her smile, “I love you.”

A happy laugh falls from her lips, “I love you too.” She leans down to press her lips to yours for the first time in many months. Her lips are soft against your dry, chapped ones, but it’s still the best feeling you’ve had since the beginning of the mission.

She pulls back to look at you again.

“Which stairwell?” Nat’s voice pops into her ear, bringing Wanda back into the moment.

“There’s three on that side of the building,” Clint elaborates.

The witch brings her hand back to her com, “the northeast corner. She’s awake; she’s talking.”

“Nat?” you ask weakly.

“She’s here,” Wanda nods down at you, “Nat’s coming; she’s on her way.” She never released her com, so the team can hear her reassure you.

As she continues running through the building, Nat has an idea, “Wanda, give her your com.” The sokovian smiles to herself, knowing what Natasha is wanting to do.

You watch her rip the tech out of her ear and transfer it to yours. She holds the button, so they can hear you just as much as you can hear them. There’s only silence for a moment, then Nat’s voice fills your ears.

“Detka?”

It’s only one simple word, but it brings tears of joy to your eyes, “Natasha?”

“Hi lyubov,” you can hear the smile in her voice, despite her rapid breathing from running, “I’m almost there, love. I’m coming.”

“I love you,” you whisper, as the tears spill from the corner of your eyes.

“I love you too,” she immediately repeats back to you, “just hang on a little longer for me. We’re gonna get you out of here. Ok? You’re gonna be ok, just hang on.” Her voice is laced with urgency.

“Ok,” you promise.

There is more talking. Something about someone leaving the raid, to take you back to the compound immediately. You can barely make it out as your awareness begins to slip again.

Your eyelids are heavy, and despite your effort they begin to droop. Wanda notices this and begins shaking you again, “stay awake detka. I need you to stay awake right now.” You can only nod, as she gently strokes your colorless cheek.

The door to the stairwell flies open.

Natasha barrels through it, with Clint close behind. Wanda smiles up at her in clear relief to be with you again. Without pause, the widow falls to the floor next to you on the opposite side of Wanda. Her hands cradle your face, and her smile beams down at you, “Hey lyubov.”

“Hi.”

“If you ever leave without saying goodbye again, you are in so much trouble,” Nat playfully scolds you.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper at the pain you must have caused them.

They both shake their heads firmly. “Shhhhh,” Natasha leans forward to press a long kiss to your forehead.

From the doorway, Clint watches the reunion. A clear display of how wrong he has read the situation for the past year.

Natasha rests her forehead against yours, relishing your presence. Wanda pulls both of your heads close to her chest. They cling to you, like you might disappear if they don’t hold you tight enough. Not that you were complaining at all.

“Hey love birds.”

Wanda and Nat break from the embrace to face the door.

Tony now stands in the doorway behind Clint with only his face not covered by his suit, “I heard someone needed a lift.”

The two women look back down at you. “Tony’s gonna fly you to the compound,” Nat lightly scratches your scalp.

“We’re right behind you,” Wanda promises. You nod in confirmation. You don’t really want to separate from them right now, but you know that you can’t delay treatment any longer.

Natasha leans down to kiss you. She nestles her face in your neck briefly, trying to soak up as much you as she can before you part again. Once she leans back, Wanda takes her place. She whispers sweet nothings in your ear, then brings her lips to yours.

After they’ve said goodbye, they help Tony gather you in his arms. He lifts up and begins flying to the nearest exit. Once you’re outside, he rises and propels the two of you through the air.

“So, please tell me,” he says as you travel above the city, “exactly how did you manage to land not one, but two hot women? What’s your secret? …asking for a friend, of course.”

You chuckle despite your current condition, “I think I’ll ask Pepper about this ‘friend’ of yours first.”

~If you ran away,

If you ran away, come back home.~

The room is quiet. The only sounds heard are your measured breaths and the beeping of your heart monitor.

Nat and Wanda have not left your bedside, since you all returned to the compound yesterday. You haven’t woken up since the surgery to remove the bullet fragments in your abdomen. Cho has assured them that you are stable and expected to make a full recovery. All you needed now was rest while your body mended itself back together.

Wanda sits near your head. One hand holds yours close to her chest, while the other delicately strokes your face. After two blood transfusions and an iv for rehydration, your skin is full of color once again. Your cold, chapped lips are now soft and full. The change is comforting to both of your girlfriends. The y/n they know slowly returning to them.

Natasha is resting in a seat on your other side. She rests an elbow on your bed, propping up her head. Her other hand firmly grips yours on the bed. She’s fighting to keep her eyes open. The adrenaline has faded and exhaustion of not only the day before, but also the constant worry of the past six months finally catches up to her. Her eyes close despite her best effort.

They sit like that and wait and wait for you to wake up once again.

A soft knock on the door pulls Wanda’s attention from you. Natasha however has managed to doze off. Steve enters carrying two plates with a sandwich and some carrots on each.

“I brought you guys something to eat, when you’re up for it,” he sets the plates on the small side table near the end of your bed.

“Thank you,” Wanda smiles appreciatively.

Steve nods, “any changes?”

The sokovian deflates slightly, “not yet. Cho said it should be any time now.” She looks over your face, “just up to her now.”

He nods. He’s glad to have you back. The change in Wanda and Natasha is tangible. Your presence beginning to return them to their normal selves. He knows the moment you’re awake and well, they will finally be ok again.

“We got them,” he says, remembering part of the reason he ventured in here. “The tracksuits,” he continues, “we took them down before they were able to inject any others with the serum. Thanks to her.” He nods in your direction.

Wanda smiles proudly, “she’s pretty great right?” The super soldier agrees with a smile. “… though I may be a little partial,” she playfully adds.

“Rightfully so,” he takes one last glance at you, “keep me posted about any updates. Also, let me know if you need anything.”

“We will,” she smiles, “thank you, Steve.”

With one last nod, he slips from the room. Leaving the three of you in silence again.

Wanda’s attention returns to you. She hums softly and her fingers find their way to your cheek again.

Another hour passes in this way. You and Natasha both sleep, while Wanda memorizes every one of your features.

She’s so deep in thought, that she thinks she imagined it when your brow furrowed slightly. She continues watching as you lay still again. When your eyelids begin to flutter, she knows she didn’t imagine it.

“Natasha,” she reaches over to wake her.

The Russian startles awake. She lifts her head, looking at Wanda, then following her gaze to you just in time to see your eyes flutter open. “Lyubov,” she stands quickly to lean over you.

You blink against the harsh light as your eyes adjust. You are faintly aware of someone calling your name as you slowly take in your surroundings.

“Y/n?”

Looking up, you find Wanda and Nat looking down at you in hopeful hesitation. Their smiles only grow when you fully lock eyes with them.

“Hi-“ you try to say, but your voice is so dry. You’re sent into a small coughing fit.

Almost instantly, Wanda produces a cup of water from somewhere. “Here,” she offers bringing a straw to your lips. You drink greedily, taking large mouthfuls until your throat is no longer burning.

“Thank you,” you rest back into the bed, and a sharp stabbing sensations blooms on your stomach. You wince and try to lay as still as possible.

They notice this of course. “Are you in pain?” Natasha asks. When you nod, she reaches for the call button on the side of your bed.

A nurse quickly enters the room.

“She’s hurting, can you give her anything?”

The nurse nods, “I’ll be right back.” He then exits the room swiftly.

Once alone again, they turn back to you.

“The tracksuits?” you ask. You need to know that the danger has been neutralized.

“Gone,” Wanda smiles, “the team took them down before any more of them were injected. SHIELD confiscated all of their materials. Its all locked away. Everything has been taken care of.”

You nod gratefully, but worry and guilt stirs within you, “I didn’t want to help them.” You look between them, hoping they will believe you, “I had to give them something, but I didn’t want to-“

“Hey, hey,” Natasha hushes you, “its ok, you did the right thing. You bought us time to take them down.”

Wanda quickly jumps on the end of Nat’s words, “the mission was a success, and that’s all because of you.” They gently soothe you until your worries are squashed.

They’ve finally calmed you down when there’s a knock at the door. You all look up to see Yelena smiling in the doorway.

“Hey, you’re awake,” she enters and stops at the foot of your bed, “how are you feeling?”

You tilt a bit, “well I’ve been better.”

The blonde nods with a smile, “yeah, I bet.”

There’s a moment of silence, and the energy in the room feels awkward. No one quite knowing what to say. This is the most Yelena has spoken to you in you can’t remember how long. Her friendly tone throws you off a bit, but it is a welcome change.

“I need to apologize,” Yelena finally breaks the silence. By her face and tone, you can tell that she knows about your relationship. Her guilt is clear on her face.

“Its ok-“ you try to say, but she cuts you off.

“No, its not,” she stands resolute, “I never should have treated you that way. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was so uncool of me to assume the worst without knowing the whole story.” As she speaks, you can feel the sincerity of her words, “you were my friend, you deserved better than that. I know I don’t deserve it, but I would like to be your friend again, someday.”

You smile. This is the Yelena you have missed since she became suspicious of you. “Is this the part where you give me the shovel talk? ‘You better not hurt my sister or else!’?”

The blonde looks between her sister and Wanda, “I’ve been told I used up all of my protective sister speeches.” She pauses for a moment, “… plus, I trust you not to hurt her.”

Her words hit you straight to your heart. Emotion starts to gather in your eyes; you lightly squeeze Nat’s hand prompting her to bring yours to her lips. She leaves a tender kiss on the back of your hand.

Yelena takes this as her cue to leave you three to each other. “I’ll get out of here, so you can rest,” she smiles to each of you, “if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

“Thank you, Yelena,” you say. She gives you one last half smile before slipping back into the hallway.

Once alone again, you look up to them and sigh, “I missed you so much.”

“We missed you too,” Wanda leans down to kiss you lightly, “more than you know.”

Natasha then leans up to press her lips to yours. She’s happy not only that you’re home, but you’ll also be treated the way you deserved to be from the beginning.

“Am I interrupting?” a familiar voice asks from the doorway.

“Yes,” Natasha grumbles and breaks the kiss to acknowledge the new visitor.

The three of you find Clint standing awkwardly with flowers in his hands, but you don’t notice those. You are too preoccupied by his appearance. His face is all beat up. A busted lip, swollen eye, and a litany of bruises adorn his face.

“Woah, what happened to you?” you ask. None of those injuries had been there the last time you saw Clint, when he hid you beside the dumpster. You know he had been there when they found you, but you never saw him, too concerned reuniting with your girlfriends and trying to maintain consciousness.

“Nothing I didn’t deserve.”

He steps into the room. “These are for you,” he places the flowers on the side table next to two plates of food you are just noticing for the first time. Were those for Nat and Wanda? When was the last time they ate?

He then stands looking between the three of you. Wanda and Natasha are very much still angry with him. They barely spare him a glance. Natasha specifically fighting to keep her hands to herself.

“I want to apologize,” he starts, “to all of you. I’m sorry for dragging Y/n on that mission, for all that time you suffered being apart. Nat, I’m sorry I didn’t just come to you and ask what was going on. Y/n, I’m especially sorry for lashing out at you. That night in the hallway…”

At the mention of the incident, both Wanda and Nat snap their focus on him. Their need to protect you pushing itself right to the front of their brains.

“… it was uncalled for,” he finishes, “and way out of line. I don’t expect or deserve your forgiveness, but if there is anything I can ever do to make up for some of the suffering I’ve caused, I will do it without question.” Your girlfriends don’t say anything; they just return their attention to you.

“Just you wait,” you break the silence, “once I’m cleared, we’re gonna spar, and I will not be pulling my punches.” Despite the anger they still feel, your remark brings an amused smirk to their faces.

Clint chuckles lightly, “I think that’s more than fair.”

Just then the nurse finally returns with the medication to help with your pain.

“I’m gonna step out,” the archer says, “I’ll see you around.” Without anything further, he exits the room.

The nurse approaches the side of your bed, and Natasha steps back to give him room to work. “Alright Agent Y/L/N,” he adjusts your iv and begins to push the medication into the line, “this should help with your pain. It has a sedative effect, so any drowsiness is completely normal.”

You nod as you feel the effects of the drug throughout your body.

Once he is finished, he resets your iv with fluids, gathers the discarded vial of medication and makes his exit, “if you need anything, just press the call button.” With that he is gone.

Your girlfriends settle back beside you like they were when you were asleep. Nat runs her fingers through you hair, while Wanda takes your hand between both of hers. You relax back into the bed as the medication fully sets in. Your side no longer hurts, and your brain feels a bit fuzzy.

Your thumb runs across a ring on Wanda’s finger, and she is reminded of the item in her pocket.

“I have something for you,” she says softly, reaching into her pocket. You furrow your brow curiously. When she holds up the necklace with their rings, you can only smile. She reaches around your head to put it back in its place, and you lift your head to give her more room. “There,” she says once it is secured around your neck.

Nat reaches and adjusts the rings until they are centered on your chest. She fixes you with a stare, “if you ever take it off again, you’re sleeping on the couch.”

A genuine laugh bubbles up your throat, “I won’t.” Your eyes feel heavy once again. The longer the drug is in you, the more it works its magic.

“Sleep,” the widow urges you, “you need it to heal.”

“We’ll be here when you wake up,” Wanda promises, “sleep now.”

Unable to fight the drowsiness, you relent, “ok.” Though you catch sight of something, right before you can close your eyes, “will you do me a favor?”

“Anything detka,” they agree before you even ask.

You smile cheekily, “eat those sandwiches before I wake up again.”

Now, they are the ones laughing. Nat rolls her eyes but agrees, “ok.” She resumes playing with your hair, while Wanda hums quietly again.

The combination quickly drifts you off to sleep again.

~Just come home.~

Learning Curve

Series Master List

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…so they keep telling me my taglist is too long, and I’m not allowed to tag that many people in a post, SO I’m gonna try to tag the rest in the comments. If you know a way around the 50 tag limit, let a sister know please 🙃

tag-list: @simp4nat @mostlymarvelsstuff @youralphawolf72 @originallovementality @an-evergreen-rose @mmmmokdok @localarcherwriter @boowhobabe @womenarehotsstuff @gay-trash-in-a-paperbag @lifeontop @wandamaximoff-simp @kaitlynroseb @diablloblood @ang3lmask @marvelwomen-simp @nightimemommy @smromanoff @nothisismax @splatasha-jumpinoff @natashaswifeu @nattyswidow @dumpaccdontmindme @natty-taffy @iliketozoneout @nowthisisliving27 @theoowo @tvseries-writings @trikruismybitch @s1ut4nat @xinied @souanick @melatonindaydreamz @angel-of-snow @chailivi @lainjupi @gay-fandom-menace @trashbod @lonewalker17 @daenerys713 @tigerlillyruiz @winters-witch-bitch @wizardofstories @karmasgxrl @kyoka-jirou @m-r-nicely @marvelfan-2022 @its-just-greek @anonreader346 @justarandomreaderxoxo @smallworld123 @finleyfray @maernys @loveshineslikethesky @peachesandhoneyb @danicarpediem @ministark @imthenatynat @bapplenana @alwaysgoodnight @oh-thats-cute @jowshuaayee

***if your url is not listed above or in the comments below and you would like to be added to the taglist, please go to the series master list and comment there. Its easier for me to have all the tag requests in one location. Thank you, y’all are the best 🥰

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okwritingandpain · 29 days

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Penny Lane's Getting Better (The Beatles x Reader)

Chapter 5: All My Loving

You hate school. You hate it a lot more than you expected you would. Now it wasn't because of your classes, but rather the absolute trash fire that John and Paul's relationship was.

They fought at every hour of every day and you couldn't avoid it. It didn't help that you had recently become John's girlfriend, which made you an easy target for Paul to vent his frustrations. You wanted to rip out his vocal chords, but decided not to as he was a good singer.

"..and then he just walked away!" Paul was blabbering about some sort of argument he had with John earlier that day. It was lunch time, but none of the other guys were around except for Paul. You silently play with your fork, pretending to listen to Paul's lengthy story. When did he become so annoying?

"Are you even listening to me?" Paul suddenly asks. You snap out of your daze and stare at him. He sighs, already knowing the answer. You rub your eyes, hoping Ringo or George would show up already.

"Where are the rest of the guys?" You finally ask Paul. He raises and eyebrow, chomping down on some salad he stole off some girls tray.

"Ringo is sick, remember? George and John dipped today," Paul explains. You groan at the fact you're stuck with Paul for the rest of the day.

"Are you serious? Why'd they dip?" You question, slamming your tray on the table next to him.

You both sat outside in the gray weather. The white lillies bloomed in bushes near the small outdoor area. Usually you and the guys ate lunch together under the nearby oak tree, but recently the group had become pretty divided.

"I heard that John got a solo gig at a local place and he invited George to play bass instead of me," Paul mutters. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette.

"I'm sure that's not true, Paul," you say with a frown. He shakes his head, muttering under his breath. The cigarette hangs from his mouth as he searches for his lighter.

"I wish you were right." He lights the cigarette and takes a long drag. You cough which makes him snort.

"So what now? Are you just going to follow me around all the time now?" You ask, almost jokingly.

"Pretty much," he replies instantly. You frown. Of course he was serious about it.

"I have a life outside of you and the boys, you know."

"I don't see you doing anything else besides hanging out with us,"

"At this point, I'd rather be on my own than with you guys,"

"Is it that bad?"

"It's worse," you say, poking around your food.

Paul sits on the table, looking down at you. He takes another drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke surround him like a darkening fog.

"You really like John, huh?" he asks, looking up into the distance where the school sits. The gray building is bustling with students heading in from lunch. Class must be starting soon.

"I do," you reply. You're not sure what Paul is getting at, but you can tell he's holding something in.

"I get that." His comment is confusing, but he doesn't look at you. He mutters something to himself and then shakes his head, standing up from the table. He extends his hand to take you back to the school. You roll your eyes and take his hand.

John hasn't walked you home from school in days. You feel a little disappointed, like he didn't want to be around you anymore. Of course, since he hasn't been around, Paul's been following you everywhere.

"If you could be any musical instrument, what would you be?" Paul asks, following behind you. You're passing the fire station which is where Paul throws his cigarette on the ground.

"That's a stupid question," you reply. You were growing tired of Paul, and you honestly wanted nothing more to do with John or the others. Ringo might be the only one who had a pass from her because he was sick.

"It's not stupid, it's a question," he says. He's humming some song that he was writing. The band hadn't met up in awhile though.

"I would want to be any instrument you can't play," you mutter. Paul hears this and smirks a little.

"Than you must be pretty obscure." He grabs your arm, pulling you towards him. His hand lets you go almost immediately as he points at a small bakery across the street. He gives you a quick smile before pulling you towards the bakery.

"Paul, I need to get home," you say, fighting his every move. He doesn't seem to care as you enter the shop. The smell of freshly baked bread wafts through the air, making your mouth water. You try to hide how much you love the smell, so Paul didn't notice.

He stares at rolls, croissants, donuts, and more. It's like a paradise of bread and sweets that you could devour within an instant. Except you didn't have money and you did actually need to get home.

"I'll take two croissants please," Paul tells the clerk.

"Paul, I don't need one--"

"Yes, you do," he cuts in. You roll your eyes, sifting through your pockets for some cash of any kind to give him. You know he would refuse it anyhow, but you couldn't help it. He hands the clerk some money and in return he gains croissants. He walks back over to you with a dorky smile, handing you one of them. You reluctantly take it from him.

"Thank you," you whisper, admiring the golden bread in your hand. He smiles at you, taking a big bite of his own. You can't help but notice the way he is staring at you.

Originally you may have thought he liked you, but this stare feels different. It feels more genuine, more friendly than it ever had been. He almost seems to be holding something back, but you can't quite place what that is.

"Y/N," Paul whispers, staring at the floor. He looks like he's on the verge of tears. Her heart begins to swell with sadness, what happened between him and John? What happened...

"Paul--"

"There's my girlfriend," John walks into the bakery. He grabs her shoulders and leans in for a kiss. She reluctantly kisses him back. "Hanging out with Paul I see," he mutters. Paul looks up at his once best friend and quickly backs away.

"He was just walking me home since you've wanted nothing to do with me for the last few days!" you snap at him. He glares at you and steps away to the counter. He orders something for himself, while you recollect yourself.

"I'm sorry," Paul says.

"It's not your fault," you reply.

"It might actually be," he replies before John ushers you out of the bakery. You look back at Paul one more time before following John down the street towards your houses.

You both don't say anything, the air is tense and prickly. You want nothing more than to leave his side. You hadn't expected him to act so cruel after you started dating.

"I want to take you out tomorrow," he says. You frown, stopping your pace. He keeps walking but stops to look behind at you.

"I'm not going out with you until you tell me what's going on between you and Paul," you hissed. You were done with all this nonsense.

"What is there to say? Me and Paul aren't that close right now okay!?" he shouts back at you.

"Why?" you ask, quietly. He pauses unsure what to tell you, the truth or the partial truth.

"He likes you," he replies.

"Like you do?"

"Not exactly," John shakes his head, muttering to himself.

"Then what does he feel, John?" You urge. What could they possibly be beating around the bush so much? What was so important?

"I don't know if I can tell you, if I can trust you," John replies. He looks defeated as he collapses onto the street. He sits cross legged with his head in his hands.

"Trust me?" You say, kneeling beside him. You look into his eyes which look back at you with more love than you could imagine.

"It will come with time," he whispers back.

"Then you will go out with me another time," you reply back. Standing up, you walk back to your house without John. You can feel his eyes watching you leave.

"I'm sorry, John," you whisper to yourself before you walk into your house where your family is waiting.

"Where's John?" Your mother asks, but she sounds more urgent than usual.

"He's down the street, what's going on?" you ask, suddenly feeling your heart drop in your chest. Something happened. What happened? WHAT HAPPENED?

"Mimi found Paul a couple miles from here," she says, her hands shaking.

"What the hell's going on, mom?"

"He was trying to catch a train out of the city..."

You feel your heart return. You thought the worst had happened, but it looks like everything is alright.

"Thank god," you whisper.

"John was supposed to take him and the band to a city nearby, but I heard about the fighting...I guess Paul was going to talk to John," Your mother explains.

You glance at your father whose face is stoic, he rubs your sister's back trying to reassure her. She's crying into his side which makes you want to rush over and hug her.

Your mother still seems worried which you don't quite understand. Paul was okay, right?

Paul was okay.

"Honey, he got hit by a car."

@sabrielka-133

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thirstworldproblemss · 1 year

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Ficlet: Kindness

Pairing: Din x gn!reader* Fandom: The Mandalorian Words: 645 Rating: Teen ...maybe? Content/Warnings: One (1) very oblique reference to sexual arousal/yearning. *Also: while this fic is technically gender neutral—(I think? let me know if you spot any gendered language that I missed)—it was written with a specific (female) "reader" in mind

Summary: A Mandalorian (ficlet) for Cindy ✨

Notes: This is a short little thing that I wrote for Cindy (@keeper0fthestars) once upon a time in response to a 'who would you ship me with and why?' ask game that was going around. I considered expanding or reworking this before posting, but somehow it doesn't seem fair to take it any further now that C's no longer here to see it… So here it is, exactly as I shared it with her. It's not my best work ever or terribly polished—it was never intended to be anything more than a silly little blurb for a silly little ask game—but it was fun to write, and sharing it with Cindy brought us both joy. In the end, I think that's enough. In the end, I think that was everything.

[ twp’s Masterlist ]

——

Din doesn't quite know what to make of you at first.

You are…. Kind. Consistently and deliberately thoughtful in a way that’s unfamiliar to him. You’re other things too: funny and pretty and smart, and so much braver than he gave you credit for in the beginning. But somehow it’s your kindness that always catches him off-guard. He’s not used to people offering to help him without strings attached or being kind just for the sake of kindness.

He hires you to take care of the kid, and you do, but somehow you wind up taking care of him as well.

When he returns to the ship with a bounty, you’re there to greet him, always checking in to make sure he's okay. The first time it happens, the attention makes him feel uncomfortable—oddly… exposed—and he brushes off your inquiries with a brusque, "I'm fine; save it for the kid,” before ingrained politeness makes him follow up with a soft, "thank you" a few moments later. You smile at him, and he has to look away.

You are kind, always smiling at him or offering him a share of the meal you made for yourself and the kid. He thinks at first that it's the unfamiliarity of being cared for that makes his breath catch. And if his heart beats a little faster when you lay a concerned hand on his arm, it's just the novelty of a gentle, non-threatening touch.

The problem is that it doesn't stop happening.

The warm smiles, the kindness, the gentle touches, the sharing of food and stories and space eventually become routine. But it never stops affecting him. If anything, it gets worse or maybe better. A look from you is enough to leave him flushed, skin prickling under his armor. The smallest interactions make his heart beat fast like he’s chasing down a bounty in full armor. Even just watching you with the kid—loving yet firm in a way that somehow, miraculously works—leaves him breathless, yearning for something he doesn’t fully understand.

You are kind, and he grows greedy for that kindness. Cataloging every smile and touch and glance from you. He hoards them away in his memory like precious treasures, reliving each one alone in his bunk at night and savoring the remembered warmth of your attention. But still he wants more. Can’t help but think of all the different ways you might touch or look upon each other. Dreams of your eyes on him, your hands, your bare skin against his, unstymied by armor or helmet, and wakes hard and aching. Wonders if he could make you ache for him in return.

You are kind.

You are kind, but it feels like more. Like something half-remembered from another life, from before the culvert and the mandalorians and the droid attack. He wants it to be more. He wants that feeling, that life… with you. He thinks sometimes that you might want the same. But you're so thoughtful. So good. So consistently nice to everyone you meet. No matter how long he watches you, he can't tell if he is special to you or just one of many. (Maker, he wants to be special.)

You are kind, and he cannot find the words to tell you how much that means to him, so he gives you the ones he has. He says, “thank you” and “you’re good with the kid” and “let me help you, please” and tries his best to repay a little of that kindness, to give you back some small part of the happiness and peace you bring to him. He hopes he’s managing it. His heart soars like a rising phoenix every time he manages to make you smile.

Maybe someday he'll find the right words and the courage to say them, but for now?

You are kind, and it’s enough.

The Beginning.

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Want more to read? [ twp’s Masterlist | Author, Fic & Fanwork Recs ]

——

End Notes & More About Cindy:

Cindy (@keeper0fthestars) passed away on December 25th, 2022—one month ago today. She was a bright light in this fandom, and she was my friend. You can read the announcement posts here & here; and more about her here (w link to her obituary), here (w link to donate in her memory), here (w her eulogy), and here (soliciting t-shirt design ideas to raise money in her memory).

This is probably as close to a memorial post for her as I’ll get, so I guess I better say what I need to say.

...And what can I say about Cindy?

Only a few weeks after she and I first traded shy DMs full of mutually admiring fangirl flailing, she spotted a single panicked post of mine (about not being able to get in touch with my seriously ill husband who I'd sent to the ER alone at the height of the pandemic because there was no one else to watch the kids).

He was ultimately fine, and I honestly don’t even remember why he couldn’t contact me. But what I do remember is that Cindy was one of two people to reach out, and she spent hours chatting with me, distracting me, and keeping me company while I waited to hear from him. I remember she stayed up long past both our bedtimes so that I wouldn’t have to be alone with my worry.

That right there tells you what sort of person Cindy was, and I doubt that story would surprise anyone who knew her.

Cindy was a lot of things: She was smart and wickedly funny. She was humble and so, so very brave. And I think anyone who’s read her amazing stories knows that she possessed both mind-boggling talent and a gloriously debauched imagination. But what always stood out to me was the way she was unfailingly thoughtful, supportive and kind, even in the midst of her own harsh struggles.

It was Cindy's kindness that I thought of when I started to write out some ideas for that long-ago ask game request. And of course I had to chose Din—both because she loved him and because… if anyone needs a little kindness in their life, it’s our favorite tin can space man dad. In typical hot mess™ twp fashion, it quickly got out of hand, morphing into this little ficlet, which then languished, mostly finished, in my drafts for... quite a while.

I finally, belatedly, got around to finishing and sharing it with her months and months (and months ^^') after the fact, in an attempt to cheer her up after yet another round of bad news. By that point it had been so long since the original post that I felt silly and a bit embarrassed even to show it to her. But of course... feelings like that could never survive an encounter with Cindy. Somehow, despite the fact that I was trying to do something nice for her, she was so enthusiastic and effusively grateful that I wound up feeling special too.

Cindy was just... like that.

You know that Maya Angelou quote? The one that ends with, "People will never forget how you made them feel." Well Cindy was a master of that: she had a way of making everyone she talked to feel heard and welcome and supported. She made you feel special.... Because to her, you were. We were. Each and every one of us.

She never stopped saying how much she loved this fandom. How glad she was to have found a refuge in it. How grateful she was for the friendships she made here.

And I will never stop being grateful for my friendship with her.

Rest in peace, my love 💕

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #gender neutral reader #(kind of?)#fanfic #ficlet #thristworldproblemss #sfw #in memory of #keeper0fthestars #cindy ✨#fluff #it's not spelled out within the fic itself but this is definitely #mutual pining #*my fic

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shootingsun · 2 years

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Wammys kids incorrect quotes except they're all conversations/statements I have been a part of:

L: Oh my God it's just like the time Beyond set his school on fire-

Mello: He what

Beyond: IT WAS AN ACCIDENT AND YOU'RE MAKING IT SOUND WORSE THAN IT WAS!

Mello: I'm sorry for Near's behavior

L: you do realize that you were also participating in the behavior?

Mello: nooooo I was fighting on the side of righteousness it was justified

Near: is this a healthy coping mechanism? No. Will I continue to do it? Probably

Matt: stop telling little kids stories about real life serial killers!

Mello: if I had to be cursed with childhood trauma, SO DO THEY

Beyond: No you don't even understand this manga changed my entire LIFE please read it I'm literally begging you

A: But I already know the entire plot because you told it to me via a series of rants

Beyond: STILL!

Matt: I'm trans and a gamer which somehow just makes me even more swag

L: I genuinely believe that no-one here is cisgender

A: Uh, I am?

Beyond: it's okay, we'll accept you when you realize that you're wrong

Beyond: My gender is the same as that one frog man I saw on a computer once

Near: Same

Mello: Yup, agreed

Matt: I don't think anyone here DOESN'T relate to the frogs gender honestly

Mello: I don't want to have sex with anyone you whore I want to have academic validation!!

A: I'm literally going to die this very second, unless-

Beyond: OH THANK GOD I THOUGHT YOU WERE ENDING THE SENTENCE THERE

Mello: the drunk horse show destroyed me emotionally however it did give me cool ideas for characters

Near: I'm sorry, the drunk WHAT show

Mello: Horse, god keep up Near

L: Buying cake at 7:36 in the morning and consuming it all in under two minutes IS self care actually

Matt: Why do acesexuals say the most horny shit? Like, lots of you don't even want the sex so why

Mello: Honestly I dunno but as an acesexual I can confirm that I say horny things all the time both in and out of context

A: I'm a good person, I'm a good person, I'm a good person, I'm a good person-

Mello: Uh. What's A doing?

Near: He thinks if he says it enough it'll come true

L: That's because it works you know.

Mello: Wait really?

Mello, under his breath: ...I will get the top score on my exam, I will get the top score-

Beyond: Who needs mental stability when you have EYELINER?

L: I've been in counseling for 7 years now.

Matt: Uh, good for you I guess

L: Not good, somehow I'm still depressed they failed to fix me emotionally

L: Look, someday, when you have the life experience I've had, you'll get it

Mello: I've never had the horizontal line dance because I'm literally underage and asexual

L: Oh shit yeah you're right

L: Hang on a fucking minute what did you just refer to sex as-

A: Everyday I get closer and closer to committing a -cide. And the motherfuckers who've crossed me better pray it's not the Homo one.

Mello: HOW ARE YOU BEATING ME YOU'VE NEVER PLAYED THIS GAME BEFORE??

Matt: Honestly I dunno I'm just pressing buttons and hoping for the best

A: Do I picture his hair, his face, his eyes, the way our hands touch before I go to sleep? Do I long to feel the romance I'll never get to experience with him? Maybe. I mean, it might just be our mutual aromanticism, it might be my depression, but I know we can never be together in the way everyone expects us to be together...

Near: Sympathy noise.

A: Did you just say the words 'sympathy noise' to me?

Near: I'm bad at feelings why did you come to me about your sad gayness I don't know how to respond to that

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carsonian · 9 months

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Cap-IM Rec Week: It's About the Yearning Tuesday

@cap-ironman, happy Tuesday:

"take my heart clean apart" by mistymountainking (@stovetuna)

He’s tired, so tired of waiting, tired of touches with no meaning, tired of holding his breath when Steve’s in the room, tired of keeping this love to himself. “I can’t—I can’t, if you don’t mean it.” Tony comes home exhausted after an SI event. Steve acts as welcoming committee. It's an old, careworn routine they've perfected over the years, but tonight ends up going in a very different direction.

Perhaps the strongest debut in the fandom. Like the rookie player that trots on and has all the commentators going, "wait, how old's this fucking kid?" Genuinely had me rocking back and forth the first time I read it, it's that motherfucking good.

"and so we rebuild" by raeldaza

Sometimes, a voice whispers: you will never atone for your mistakes. Tony believes that, believes it so strongly some days he drowns in it, but he still tries. Tries through Starfleet, tries through inventions, tries through missions. Then, one day, he meets his new Captain, and things change.

Steve's yearning in this is so palpable that it makes for its own story, not-so-subtly putting its footprints down in the background. This fic is THE happy meal; world-building = BLISS, characterisations = JOY, pining = ECSTACY, resolution = DELICIOUS. It even has a cherry (nudge nudge spoiler spoiler) on top.

"Like How Your Heart Works" by ishipallthings and zappedbysnow (@ishipallthings, @snowzapped)

“I don’t mind waiting for my first kiss. I just hope that when it happens, it’ll be important. And I want it to be with someone who really wants my first kiss too.” (Or: the one where Tony is pining, Steve takes the long way around to realizing he’s in love, and there’s clothes sharing.)

What's better than mutual pining? AVAC mutual pining! Duh. This one's toothwrenchingly diabetic and utterly sincere; it'll give you cavities. The gorgeous fanart is the loveliest bonus. Honestly melts my heart to look at. Listen. I know what I'm about, and this fic is EXACTLY what I'm about.

"Hating Steve Rogers" by nanasekei (@elcorhamletlive)

The thing about hating Steve Rogers is that it shouldn’t be easy - but it really, really is.

Tonyyyyy girllll your crush is showing babie!!! Stop twirling your hair and kicking up your feet!!! We getttt it. You "hate" him sooooo much, omg you just wanna eat him right up!!! ...unironically brilliant Steve Rogers meta.

"The Ghosts of War" by scifigrl47 (@scifigrl47)

(For the Cap/Iron Man Big Bang 2014) Steven Rogers never wanted to be king, but he knows his duty, and he does it well. Lord Tony Stark, the king's appointed consort, does his duty as well, even though he'd enjoy his duty more if it actually involved sleeping with the king. As it doesn't, he's just resigned. The war that made Steve king and cost him nearly everything may be over, but a meeting of old enemies might stir up some ghosts none of them are prepared for.

OG yearning and misunderstandings fic. The big behemoth daddy long legs of getting your wires crossed. I will forever laugh n slap my leg at Steve's histrionics over T’Challa "wooing" Tony.

"Talking Bodies" by itsallAvengers

Coincidentally, the physical effects of romantic and sexual desire match up very closely with the physical effects of fear. But it's not a problem-- it's not like anyone is going to be able to hear the way your heart speeds up, or see the minute dilation of your pupils, are they? They'd have to be some sort of Superhuman to do that. And what's worse than a Superhuman hearing that quick pulse and seeing those dilated eyes and concluding that you're in love with them? A Superhuman hearing that quick pulse and seeing those dilated eyes and thinking you're terrified of them.

The stakes could not be funnier and the yearning could not be heartier. The misunderstandings make the pining so much more fun to behold and the resolution is uber Hot! Love Steve's droopiness as the delicious backdrop to Tony's he's-so-sexy freakout.

And now we've arrived at the moment for that much-needed "I've been in love with you for YEARS!" / "Wait--what?!" / "Not that it matters...because we will only ever be friends..." / "NO! I love YOU." / "What??" / *cue passionate makeout* conversation. AKA: the end!

Go forth: SteveTony lovers, fuckers, ambassadors, champions, perverts, freaks, losers, dreamers, legends! Read, re-read, kudo, comment, spread legs and spread love.

#capimrecweek #it's about the yearning tuesday #fic recs #stevetony

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redstringraven · 2 months

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hey, @bellathetmntgeckolady, thanks for the tag!! ( •̀ ω •́ )✧ i've not done one of these in a long time, so this'll be fun! i think things like this are nice little community builders; it's a shame not to see them as often.

"the rules of the game are to write one song for every letter in your url, and then tag as many people as there are letters in your url." reposting because those reblog chains get longggg.

also, i made a temporary spotify playlist if that's easier listening.

r - reverence ; hammock e - end of small sanctuary ; akira yamaoka d - dúlaman ; celtic woman s - spanish sahara ; foals t - tsunami ; fløre r - rainy day ; alec holowka i - inner universe ; origa n - no turning back ; olivier deriviere, eric maria couturier g - give a fuck ; tezatalks r - resting grounds ; christopher larkin a - apocalypse ; sleeperstar v - voidfish (plural) ; rachel rose mitchell e - empires ; ruelle n - neglected space ; imogen heap

if you're tagged, no pressure to take part! i'll be tagging a mix of pals and folks i've never tagged before but who seem in my orbit. ...if your @ didn't work, i hope you see this somehow. <xD;;; take care!

@plantdonut, @grozva, @joyfuladorable, @sftgnge, @gatorkid509, @mojimallow, @badatusernames, @vdragon-creations, @adenthemage, @roquog, @maddys-nerd-blog, @yellowhollyhock, @figuringitoutasigoalong, @cheesy-che, @sassatello

because i'm insufferable, i'll also put some small character/song relevant thoughts under the cut. as a treat to myself.

reverence: this song gives me the feeling of being out on casey's farmhouse porch on late summer afternoon or at sunset. everyone's just kind of basking in the warmth, downtime, and company of each other. some might be napping, those awake are making quiet, idle conversation. it's just nice.

end of small sanctuary: this one always makes me think of raph and gwyn, specifically, sitting on city high-point at sunset. much like how it's used in SH3 when heather is just being a teenager at the mall and is probably music she'd listen to, this very much gives me the energy and warmth of raph and gwyn sitting in the setting sun, high above the city, with maybe some food and light conversation. a breath between The Horrors™.

dúlaman: i've been trying to find and listen to more celtic/irish music for a lot of reasons (so if you know any pls gib), but one is to better cultivate the sound and energy of liáfsian folksongs and music.

spanish sahara: how could i make this list without one of the songs that never fails to fuck me up. spanish sahara has been the driving 'score' in my head when it's come to a number of story scenes or character moments due to the slow build and emotional release of the song as well as the lyrics. i dunno. this song just moves and inspires me in ways i can't quite articulate.

tsunami: this song just feels so strongly like aislinn to me. the lost-lover part, sure, but especially the feeling of drowning and just... the instrumentals/vocals feel like her, too. i associate her a lot with water.

rainy day: no specific scenario here, but this score makes me think of and want to draw don or leo. the game it's from kind of has a melancholic nostalgia to it, and the vibe sits well with them.

inner universe: this song is all vibes for me, and it always makes me think of entering the territory of one of the liáfsian dragons and crossing paths with it. specifically the dragon i associate with leo.

no turning back: this score is fully for gwyn being on the run. the title, the strings, the faint ticking clock and building drums toward the end, the urgency throughout. it is, for better or worse, a reflection of what so much of her life has felt like.

give a fuck: sounds and feels like a nyxram song. hard to explain, this one just always makes me think of her.

resting grounds: this score's on my playlist for the liáfsian ruins, which is an area in the realm considered to be cursed ground (but no one knows or remembers why). the ruins are beautiful, peaceful. but you never quite have the sense that you're truly alone.

apocalypse: this song always makes me think of PtINL, i can't really explain why. it's on my personal playlist for the fic, and every time it comes on shuffle it just sends me back into thoughts of mikey, aloy, their travels and their bond.

voidfish (plural): first of all: LOVE the voidfish. second, this is another one of those scores that gives me the energy of encountering ancient liáfsian fae.

empires: this song always makes me think of a 'trailer' for gwyn and ash's arc. i think it's accurate not only for how the final conflict between gwyn, ash and darach will go down, but there's a hint at a much older threat in there and "the tides are turned" being that companionship has been found in the turtles.

neglected space: this song, without fail, always makes me think of and want to draw nyxram. there's something sad, lost and desperate to it.

#;radio static #;rosewater park #[ that's gonna be my new dashboard meme & community fun tag i think ]#[ but yeah thank you for the tag!!! :D a fun surprise! ]

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farmerlarrry · 11 months

Text

Orange Slices (Joel Miller x f!reader)

masterlist | read on ao3 | playlist

story summary: A story about finding companionship and love in the midst of chaos.

a/n: This is the first fanfic I'm publishing in almost 10 years and I'm new to the character x you/reader writing style, so if anything sounds odd or awkward, I deeply apologize. The story is mainly based on the game, however, I keep it pretty vague so if you like the show descriptions better, it should still work.

wc: 3734

if you want to be notified when I post new chapters, follow @farmerlarrrylibrary and put on notifications! If you'd rather be tagged, just let me know.

Chapter One

2013; Ten years since the CBI outbreak

The sunlight was trickling in through the cracks of the murky window of the old clothing store’s bathroom you barricaded yourself in last night; the rays dimly split across the subway-tiled walls. You lay still on your side, staring at the dense moss that covered the dark corners and the vines that weaved their way through the cracks in the tile. The morning was chilly, causing you to pull your long sleeve over your hands, balling the open ends in your fist to not allow any heat to escape. You close your eyes momentarily, not quite ready to face whatever today brings. For a few moments, you wanted to not have to face reality. Opening your eyes once again and taking in a deep breath of the cool spring air, you slowly rose to your feet, fully extending your arms above your head with your fingers intertwined, trying to straighten out the kink that has been in the middle of your back for the past few days. You wince as you lean from side to side.

You haven’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in weeks, and it was starting to take a toll on you mentally. You know you aren’t being as careful as you should— accidentally knocking into things when scavenging, tripping over your own feet, nodding off out in the open when you take a midday rest from walking. It was only a matter of time before one of these things got you into some kind of trouble, trouble that you might not be able to get out of unscathed. The thought of it makes you shudder.

The nightmare of this world has only gotten worse now that you’re on your own again. It had been quite some time since it had been like this, and it was easy to forget how dangerous and scary it was to be alone. The small community you’d been settled into for the past few years was attacked and overrun three weeks ago. By whom, you don’t know. FEDRA, the Fireflies, some other militia group—they're all the same now, and the number of these bloodthirsty groups seems to only increase as time goes on. They supposedly stand for different things, all against each other; however, the one thing that they all have in common is that they’re always out for blood.

You were among the lucky few who had not been inside the broken-down apartment building when the attack happened. Even luckier, you knew the ins and outs of the surrounding area, so it wasn’t hard to escape the fight unnoticed. A small part of you still feels guilty for not trying to help; you knew of families inside who were just trying to survive—elderly and children. In the weeks following the attack, you tried not to think about it; you tried to focus on your own survival, but the thought always came to mind just as you were about to fall asleep, and deep down, you feel guilty for running. It’s fucked up that this is what the world has come to; it makes you angry.

Taking a seat back on the cold floor and crossing your legs, you lay out the contents of your backpack. At the time of the attack, you were on your way back from doing a supply run. You had been helping two of the men out by going along to try and keep the small group afloat. Unfortunately, the immediate area around the apartment building had been picked out pretty well, so finding supplies became harder and harder as time went on, and it was hard to plan longer treks to find supplies since there were so few people who were able to offer protection. You were unable to find anything that day; all you had was what you left with: a revolver with three bullets, your gas mask and flashlight you took from a FEDRA soldier back in Denver, a fixed-blade knife that has become dull due to daily use, a torn map of Colorado, two decently sized canteens of water, and a few emergency ration bars that expired four years ago. You were now down to half a canteen of water and had two ration bars left, trying to stretch what you had left. Thankfully, a few days ago, you came across an orange tree. You picked all the ones you could reach, filling up the vacant space in your bag.

You grab one of the oranges from the pile you made; it’s just a little smaller than your palm and wasn’t quite ripe enough for peak enjoyment. You carefully begin peeling back the thick layer, creating a pile of peels on the dust-layered tile floor. Halving the orange, setting one half on your thigh, picking apart the other half in your hand, and popping one of the slices in your mouth. You squish it against the roof of your mouth with the force of your tongue, and the juices quickly fill your mouth. You lean against the wall behind you and close your eyes. The cool air and sweet smell of citrus trigger a memory. You remember better days before the outbreak, specifically one where you were sitting in the grass with your friend just as spring arrived. The weather in Texas was perfect—not too warm or too cold; a slight breeze danced across your skin. Your friend Nessa brought back an absurd amount of oranges from her parent’s home that day, and the two of you ate them until you were sick. Laughing. Exchanging gossip you both heard around school. Giggling over which teacher assistants you found attractive. I swear he would stare at me with bedroom eyes during office hours, Nessa joked. Maybe he was frightened because you were looking at him as if he were some prey you wanted to pounce on... had to keep an eye on you, so he wouldn’t catch a case or somethin’. She rolled her eyes at your response. You miss those days; you miss being 16 and carefree. You miss companionship, especially Nessa. A small part of you hopes she’s out there somewhere, hopefully, better off than you are. The feeling of guilt quickly fills your chest, but this time it's for a different reason. You wished you could go back to the day of the outbreak, you wished you would have looked for her instead of running. Maybe things would have turned out differently, at least you’d have her by your side.

You feel a tear roll down your cheek, quickly wiping it away and drying your eyes with the cuff of your ragged long-sleeve shirt. The moisture stains the sleeve, turning it from a light olive color to dark mossy green splotches. As you’re drying your eyes, the remaining half of your orange slides off your thigh, landing on the floor. Dust now clinging to the sides, you toss it toward one of the corners. Looks like it’ll be a light breakfast today, you thought. You pop the last slice of the first half in your mouth and grab the map from the side of your pack. Carefully opening it up and laying it on your lap, you hover your finger over your current approximate location, tapping it a few times with the tip of your index finger. A few days ago, you reached Fort Collins. It took you a lot longer to get here than it should have, mainly because you kept zigzagging between different places. You now only have about eight miles until you reach city limits, which means you have to decide where you are heading next—something you’ve been putting off since you were forced out of the apartment.

Finding communities nowadays is few and far between, especially in civilized places, places that offer a sense of safety. When the outbreak began, you were in Houston, Texas. Within the first week, you found refuge at the Houston QZ. Unfortunately, it fell within the first year due to people becoming infected from inside the zone. Nobody knew if the cause of the infection was in the food, the water, or the air. Nobody knew much of anything back then. After Houston, you decided to head north for the Denver QZ. From what you heard, it was still in operation, the conditions weren’t the best; however, they could have been much worse looking back. Eventually, you wanted to head east; you knew it was a long shot, but your family was there, and quite honestly, you didn’t know what else to do. After a grueling month or so of making your way to Denver with some survivors from Houston, picking up a few stragglers along the way, you finally reached the zone. The first few years weren’t all too bad, however, it quickly became corrupt. By your 7th year of being there, outside attacks began happening weekly, punishments were becoming more and more severe; instead of a few days in lockup for being out past curfew, it turned into weeks, which then turned into public beatings. Last you heard, they were shooting people on site for violating curfew by mere seconds. Those weren’t the only major issues, however. Rations began running low. First, they were handing out half rations for the full amount of required ration cards, then it turned into thirds for double the amount of cards. People became desperate, more and more left during the night to look elsewhere for food and supplies. It put a target on a lot of people’s backs if they weren’t careful enough, and since it was punishable by death, a lot of people lost their lives. You either risk starving to death or risk trying to survive. That seemed to be the motto of today’s world.

Even though you stuck around at the Denver QZ for the majority of the outbreak, leaving wasn’t hard. You had a few people you became close with at the beginning, but they either ended up dead or leaving, so after the last one left, you never made any more close ties with anyone. You kept your head down, kept conversations to a minimum, did what you were told, and only created business-type relationships with the stupidest and weakest of FEDRA soldiers. Leaving wasn't the hard part, you realized. It was being completely isolated and alone. Scared and alone. With time, you became tactical and stealthy, learning how the world outside of QZs worked as you went. Even when you had people around you, they weren’t your people. You didn’t want to have to worry about anyone but yourself, you thought it’d be better that way. However, traveling in these conditions by yourself isn’t exactly ideal, but you make it work. You have to. You watch your back, carefully listen to all the surrounding sounds, and think critically before you act. It’s become second nature. You take all the proper precautions to not only protect yourself from the infected, but also from the other people living in this hellhole.

When the world changed, so did the people. The lawless land quickly turned for the worse. Nobody was safe from one another, women and children were more vulnerable than the rest. People became savages, which often made you wonder if humankind had always been this cruel, and if this world was what enabled them to be their true selves.

After putting everything back into your backpack, you carefully tie the laces of your boots up, making sure to secure the laces around your ankle for extra support. The last thing you needed was to twist your ankle, last time it happened, you were out for several days. In the corner of the bathroom, where you tossed the tainted ration bar earlier, sat your old pair of boots, the ones your parents bought you many years ago. The tape was peeling away from both soles, the left one had a gaping hole on the side where the side of your foot would rub. You just happened to find these stuffed in the back of the small stockroom yesterday, there were a few pairs of various sizes. Other than these being a half size too big, they were perfect. Eventually, you needed to find a thicker pair of socks to make them truly fit, but for now, that really didn’t matter.

After putting your pack on and tightening the straps, so it fits snugly on your back, you holster your gun on your right hip and prepare your knife in your hand for quick use. You begin to mentally prepare yourself for today’s trek.

Carefully opening the door, you put your ear up to the small opening you created. You listen closely. Listening for any movement, any screams or cries, or any noise that could indicate potential danger nearby. The last few days have been rather quiet—a little too quiet for your liking. You’ve run into a few infected, easily putting them down with your knife. They haven't been running in groups like they usually do. It puts you on edge because you know it could change for the worse at any given moment, and nothing can prepare you for the quick turn of events. You stand there for a few minutes, listening, trying to slow your breathing to heighten your sense of hearing. Not picking up on anything, you proceed with caution. As you walk towards the exit of the store, you glance around at the remaining intact shelving and floor in case you missed anything on your initial sweep yesterday. With all the rubble from the initial bombings and the greenery that invaded the building, it was hard to see much of anything on the floor, but you were desperate for anything. Food. Water. Perhaps some sanity.

You had no clue where you were going once you made it out of Colorado. Things weren’t looking good in the east, at least from what you heard when you would eavesdrop outside the radio room back at the Denver QZ. You discarded the idea of reuniting with your family back home when you decided to leave. You had to come to terms with how small the chances were that they were even alive, let alone reuniting with them. This morning, you thought of continuing north and heading for Wyoming. Back at the apartment, a man named Charles was talking in the makeshift community room late one night, telling the others he’d been thinking of heading to Wyoming with his two kids. He knew someone who worked in the radio room back at the Boston QZ, they told him they heard of some safe haven in Jackson; supposedly they had food, electricity, and a safe community. Although there was no real, solid evidence that such a thing still existed, if it ever truly existed at all, Charles said it was worth the risk for his kids. He didn’t want them to grow up like this, so he ended up leaving with them the day after. You thought it was stupid and too much of a risk considering how young his kids were, but you couldn’t really judge him for trying. You started to live more in your own head than in reality, mainly yearning for a better future and hoping there was someplace out there that would give you a sense of normalcy. You were no better than Charles. You still really aren’t that much better, are you?

At this point, the sun was at its peak. The air is cool and starting to feel like spring with every passing day. The mornings are still chilly, but by midday it's warm. You take a moment to stop, taking off your long sleeve and tying it around your waist. You notice the back of your ankles beginning to throb and decide to take a break. You find homage on a shaded area of a curb behind an old rusted car, the windows have been completely smashed in, and vines have woven through the tire’s hubcaps and begun wrapping around the door handles. As you’re sitting there, massaging your calves with your hands, a feeling of dread washes over you. A familiar feeling with a hint of anxiety.

You begin to doubt the plan you made . What the fuck am I doing? The thought rushes to the forefront of your mind .

You quickly pull the map from the side pocket of your backpack and open it all the way. Your eyes dart at all the different markings, dragging your fingers along the creases you’ve made due to folding and unfolding it constantly.

Okay, so you reach Wyoming, you get to Jackson, and there’s nothing there? Then what do you do? You become overwhelmed with defeat, a heat washing over your face and filling your chest with a burning sensation. Fuck.

Losing yourself completely in the map and your own doomed thoughts, you barely notice the sound of crushed glass coming from your immediate right. A sense of danger triggers something deep within you, causing your stomach to turn. Quickly, but quietly, putting the map away, you position yourself in a crouching, ready to run, position, peering through the back windows of the car. Glancing quickly behind you, you notice that most of the buildings had been hit pretty hard during the initial bombing, and there was no easy or quick access to get inside. However, between two of the buildings, there's a shallow alley that you could quickly revert to if you end up needing more coverage. Just as you tried to make an escape plan, the blood-curdling shriek of an infected stumbling out of one of the buildings echoed through the vacant city, causing you to snap your attention back to the front. Slightly ducking for more coverage, you watch carefully, glancing between the buildings. Then another responds to the initial one’s cries, coming from a building to the left, two more suddenly appear, one tripping over the light pole that fell in front of the doorway. No fucking way, they’re going to draw more out to the street, fear quickly occupies your mind . Your heart is now beating fast as you watch more come from different directions, you haven't been caught in a swarm of this many on your own before. You unholster your gun, just in case, but you know you can’t get caught, not with two bullets and a knife. Close combat with just one of those things is scary enough, let alone with no one else around to help if things start going south.

You start to turn on your feet to head to the alley, as it is your only hope now, when a loud clicking comes from behind you, immediately stopping you from taking another step. Oh no, fuck. A sinking feeling rapidly develops in your chest. You turn slowly toward the noise, trying to shallow your breathing. Your eyes widen as you spot the clicker coming from one of the buildings behind you, trying to crawl out of a narrow opening beneath a fallen slab of concrete. You sink lower against the back of the car door, putting your free hand over your mouth, scared to make any noise, scared to breathe. It’s moving slowly once it makes its way up onto its feet, turning its head and cocking it towards its shoulder; its arms are twitching uncontrollably, and it begins making that awful clicking noise that sends a chill down your spine. The orange slices from this morning are suddenly sitting in the middle of your throat, ready to come up at any moment.

In your peripheral view, you see movement coming from the alley, next to the building the clicker had just come out of. A man with dirty blonde hair is crouching down near the edge of the building. He’s holding his index finger to his mouth, gun in hand, aimed toward the ground. His finger is hovering over the trigger. You look between him and the gun as the clicker passes by you and the car, making its way slowly to the rest of the infected now roaming the street.

The blood has drained from your face. You are frozen in shock, not daring to move an inch. Your back is pressed firmly against the side of the car door, and your eyes are locked on the man's face. All you can do is stare, you tighten your hand around the grip of your gun, your knuckles turning white. He’s intensely looking in the direction of the infected before glancing briefly at you. A bead of sweat smoothly and steadily runs down the side of his temple before dropping off his face.

With his head, he motions for you to come his way.

“C’mon, hurry this way,” he says in a very low, urgent whisper, causing the infected to cry out in response. You don’t move.

He looks annoyed and shakes his head, still keeping an eye on the potential danger ahead.

“If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it by now,” he quickly lets out, at the same volume as before. “I could have done it multiple times today; I could’ve come up behind you when you were lookin’ at your map. Come. Now.”

This time he said it more firmly, and this time you listened. You turn your head and look once more out of the car windows to make sure the coast is clear before making your way toward him. He guides you in front of him, motioning to go into the depths of the alley. Your heart is beating deeply and fast, air is stuck in your lungs. You both turn the corner before standing up completely, the man walks ahead before turning to face you. He holsters his gun, placing both his hands on his hips, and lets out a long breath that seemed like he had been holding in for a little too long. You let your breath go as well.

He is taller than you had anticipated. He's solid with broad shoulders. His hair is shaggy, now looking more brown than blonde, and slightly curly.

“Name’s Tommy,” he says, still in a low tone, but a bit louder than when you two were on the street. You respond with your name, holstering your gun. He gives you a slight nod with a short-lived smile while tugging at the stretched-out collar of his shirt.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Tommy responds breathily.

read chapter two here!

painting divider | credit: @cottage-writings

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #joel miller x oc #orange slices #farmerlarrry #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x fem!reader

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