#all this for an event where i barely know anyone lmao

[beepbeepdespair]

having to wait until tomorrow to watch the vmas because its recording in the early hours... this is painful

[tojjist]

𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐘 ↳ r. sukuna

in which: the king of curses left you the moment you announce your pregnancy to him. but after nearly losing you... he might be having a change of heart contains: very slight objectification of reader, reader is a half-curse, mentions of injury and near-death experience, reader is pregnant, slight mention of pregnancy sex, sukuna is really ooc tbh A/N: yall really wanted soft sukuna lmao. i js wanted to write something more in my own style instead of the tumblr style. It's all over the place really, also obv trueform! sukuna. w.c : 1.6k

“Sukuna-sama?” Your voice comes out a breathy whisper, barely audible.

“Do– ugh,” The pink-haired curse sighs. “Don’t call me that. And don’t make me repeat myself.”

You haven’t known Sukuna to be tender. Actually, scratch that. You used to genuinely believe he mistook the adjective for an affront. He probably still does, despite the sheer softness of his actions. His mind is a marvel far beyond your, or anyone else's, comprehension. And if Sukuna hasn’t always been complicated, his sudden switch of behavior recently has rendered  unriddling the complex being that he is even harder.

“What do I call you then?” There’s confusion in your tone; confusion fused with unadulterated innocence. His eyebrows crease further. He loved how naive and ingénue you are. Such a simple, sheepish thing. Easy to lead one, easy to use, easy to hurt. But as of late, he’d come to hate it.

He hates that he hates it. He shouldn’t care.

“I don’t fucking know,” he snaps back. It’s enough to bring you silence, the somber tone he uses coming with a sense of finality. 

Rough callouses are surprisingly gentle against your flesh—callouses that slap, bruise, grope, but never caress. Despite that, he pulls your underwear up your thighs with utter care. If you didn’t know any better, you might even dare call his actions delicate.

“Does it hurt?” He reminisces. Curious digits stroke your lower abdomen and across the swell of your belly, where an ugly scar sits. It decorates your skin with a long, uneven line of dried blood cells.

“It’s not too bad,” You assure, daring to test your luck by bringing your own hand to his hair. It causes the king of curses to pause. His ember eyes continue to stare at your scar, unable to swat your hand away for some reason. The wooden floor beneath him feels too cold. Or he feels too hot. He’s unsure.

In the dimness of the room, there is no light but the flickering glow emitted from the fire, ensconced within a cage of brick—a fireplace, by name. Yet, the warmth that enfolds you does not excrete solely from the flames. It originates from within, a pulsating heat that comes with the beat of your heart as a large palm finds your shoulder, urging you forward with an urgency that seems to echo through the very fibers of your being.

“What about this one?”His intense glare persists, averting your demure gaze. Never before have you witnessed him in such a state, making you wonder whether this demeanor is a consequence of recent events.

“It’s fine, I promise,” Your whispered words cause his gaze to harden even further, his thumb tracing over another, deeper cut nestled in the valley between your breasts. This one could have been fatal. The realization sends a shiver down his spine, unsettling him to his core. Sukuna, the ancient and ruthless curse, has borne witness to countless horrors in his long existence, inflicted unspeakable cruelty upon countless souls, but none have shaken him to his core quite like seeing you teetering on the brink of death. The memory stirs within him an unfamiliar sense of disquiet, a realization that his desires may have consequences far more profound than he ever anticipated.

The brawny curse grunts in response, opting to continue examining the scar. He’s careful to not stretch it as your human flesh would hurt. 

Sukuna’s agenda never included leaving a child within you. It never even crossed his mind. Such muses were not to be entertained, especially not with you.

You. Yeah, you who doesn't try to kill humans simply for the pleasure it brings. You who takes life so lightly, as if you have several souls to spare. You who accepts every word Sukuna says as an indisputable fact, every order executed before he has a chance to reconsider.

You, who has shared your bed with the strongest curse more times than he cares to count, always intrigued him—an enigmatic subject for his manipulations. You, who confided in him the startling revelation that your half-cursed body now nurtures a growing fetus.

At first, Sukuna swore he'd never visit you again, adamant in his belief that he wanted no involvement in your pregnancy, leaving you to navigate the situation alone. Despite his capability to end your life without hesitation, he chose to spare you. Sukuna granted you a reprieve under the condition that he never crosses paths with you or whatever child you carry. He told himself time and time again that you would be a rather boring kill, not worth the effort. But it wasn't about the difficulty of ending your life—it was an excuse. He'd never admit that he doesn't want your blood staining his hands

Sukuna swears he’s not soft, that he doesn’t care for you at all.But the notion of being the one who brings you to your end does not enthrall him in the least.

He doesn’t care for the inferior likes of you, he reminds himself. That’s absurd. It’s laughable. It’s offensive, even. He doesn’t ‘care’, It’s simply curiosity that keeps him around. Curious of what kind of child the one you carry would come out to be. To see if they’d be worthy of being called his kin or not.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Your voice is dulcet, a melody that cuts his train of thought smoothly. Unlike anything he’s ever heard before. There’s a pleading tone, a need so urgent it's almost painful. He finds pleasure in that. Your perpetual longing for him, your unwavering loyalty even after his defeat by sorcerers the first time around—you kept him close like a devoted guardian to a fallen hero, even when you knew is anything but a hero. It's a power unlike any other—staying but not out of fear, it's a choice. A strong belief.

Balancing on his knees between her parted legs, he reaches out, his fingers finding purchase on the edge of the bed. His grip tightens instinctively, fingers slipping beneath the hem of the sheet as he steadies himself. With a controlled effort, he pushes upward, leveraging the bed for support as he rises to his feet

“Why do you ask questions you know the answer to?” He muses, his towering frame looking down at you. The flickering flames of the fire, their orange hues swirling and weaving a macabre tapestry around his countenance, lend him an aura of terror that would instill fear in any who behold him. Yet, unlike others, you find his presence strangely comforting. Despite the aura of terror he exudes, you've grown accustomed to it, finding solace in his formidable presence now more than ever before.

Your only reaction is to chew on the inside of your cheek, careful to not bite the fiber too hard. There’s an ambivalent air to him, remaining motionless as he towers over you. It seems as if he’s looking for something. Anything. He wants a reason to stay, but he can’t seem to find one satisfying enough.

He owes you nothing. But when you look at him like that… He’s never been one to falter at your pleading face, but perhaps he’s changing little by little. He staunchly refuses to acknowledge this change still, for him to do so would be an admission of vulnerability, a humiliation he cannot bear, even to himself. How he yearns for the willpower to end you, to push you away so you never obstruct his way like this again.

The worst part of it all is his acute awareness of why he feels so strongly now. He knows that it’s all him, and not at all you. He can pinpoint the exact moment he regret leaving your side. The memory is seared into his very core. 

He wishes he could forget, to erase the haunting image of you, wounded and bleeding, from his mind. 

It was when he came back a few days after his departure, for reasons he can’t recall, only to be greeted by the sight of a malevolent curse looming over you, hungry and poised to make you its next meal. He shouldn’t have intervened. It's the natural order—a relentless cycle where only the strongest survive, preying upon the weaker. He knows he's no exception. Nor are you.

But seeing you sprawled out on the floor, barely intact, with his child inside of you. 

He gulps at the memory, feeling an overwhelming urge to touch you once more, to make sure you’re not some figment of his imagination. To keep you from harm. You’re so stupid, so goddamn naive. He doesn’t know what to make of you. Other than a fucking headache.

“What is it? What do you want, brat?” He hopes to catch some semblance of his normal attitude. “Get it over with.”

“Please stay,” You plead, fingers gently gripping the open kimono he had thrown on once finished with you. “Please, Sukuna-sama.”

He sighs. You’re so obstinate.

Perhaps it's his lack of understanding that breeds hesitation within him, or perhaps it's his inherently fierce nature. A thing like you deserves to be treated with the utmost delicacy, cherished and nurtured. Sukuna, with his staunch commitment solely to his ideals, can never be the one assuming such a role for you.

“You’re doing things to me, you know?” Sukuna gets down, kneeling between your parted legs again, placing a warm palm in either side of your hips and seizing you within.

Maybe… staying with you tonight wasn’t such a ludicrous notion. He’s the king of curses; he  has all the time in the world to fret the trivial details.

[aviiarie]

˚ ₊ ‧ ♡ IN PLAIN SIGHT — feat. kazuha event masterlist.

synopsis. you know for a fact that your new next-door neighbour is a supernatural creature of some kind, and you're determined to prove it. warnings. mind control?? i guess???? notes. requested by @sailorstar9! siren!kazuha. gn!reader. 2.5k words. slight cliffhanger ending lmao.

It took one week, two days, seventeen hours, and fifty-five minutes to fall head-over-heels in love with your neighbour.

Although, even that estimate that might have an exaggeration. With the way your heart fluttered as soon as that easy smile fell over his lips, and a smooth greeting fell out, you might as well have fallen from the moment you met him.

“Kaedehara Kazuha,” he introduced himself, voice sweet and melodic like a song, carried by the wind. “But please, spare the formalities. You may call me what you wish.”

The casualness of his greeting did nothing to sway the effortless grace that he held; every movement was measured and precise, with the elegance of a swan and the gentleness of an autumn breeze. There was an almost glow that shone from his presence, dulling the world around him.

As he leaned closer to shake your hand, you caught the scent of maple clinging to his skin. The smell was sweet, almost dizzying, making you stumble over your own words. “U-Uh... I'm [Name]. It's nice to meet you, K-Kazuha.”

And then he had smiled, and your chest had soared. Love at first sight was a foreign concept to you, but if it was real then this was the closest you would ever get to it.

The next week was nothing short of blissful. Stolen glances were exchanged in the mornings when you happened to walk by at the same time, idle chatter that stretched on for what seemed like hours. Every time he opened his mouth, sonnets seemed to fall, captivating you over and over again.

You weren't the only one entranced by him either. Everyone in their neighbourhood was completely and wholly enamoured by the man, from the young couple next door to the old lady down the street. Asking anyone about him would result in gushing about how he was such a sweet and polite boy, always lending a hand. He was charming, he was handsome, he was kind. And yet, you never were able to get much more than a surface-level answer about him. When you pressed, no one could tell you any more about who he was, where he came from, or even what he did for a living.

He was a mystery; simultaneously known by everyone and still a stranger to them all.

Truthfully, you should have pieced together the peculiar puzzle long before you did, but Kazuha's charm had rendered you blind. The odd sparkle to his eyes, the song-like quality to his voice, none of it struck you as odd, until you started to notice just how much he affected the people around him.

'Love', as you'd naively called it, had afflicted more than yourself. There was an infatuation for the man that had spread like a disease, infecting almost everyone he came in contact with. And as soon as you started to notice it, you couldn't stop; that lovesick expression was present on every face you saw.

“Do you know Kazuha?” The question slipped out before you could hold it back, making the girls sitting opposite you pause. When you weren't in front of him, the fog over your mind seemed to clear, but it didn't stop him from creeping into your thoughts.

“Kazuha...?” One girl—Ayaka, she introduced herself as—echoed. There was a quiet, barely noticeable lilt that fell over her voice as she said the name. The sudden shift made something settle uncomfortably in your gut.

“Yeah, he lives next to me. Do you know him?” You pressed further, studying her expression.

“Kazuha...” Ayaka breathed, her eyes glazing over. A soft, almost spacey smile settled over her lips. “He's amazing, isn't he? I could listen to him talk for hours and hours and never get sick of hearing him. He's... he's perfect.”

“He's like... something out of a fairytale.” The other girl, Yoimiya, breathed. The spark of joyfulness in her eyes had been snuffed out, leaving them blank and glistening with bliss.

“…Right.” Something was off about their responses. It tugged on the part of your mind that was still fully conscious, unravelling the layers of infatuation that had clouded your thoughts. “What do you know about him?”

“Um… he writes. Poetry, I believe.” Ayaka’s smile widened. “He read me his poetry a while ago. It was breathtaking, it felt like… like he was casting a spell on me.”

She was oblivious to the way you froze at her words, blood rushing into your ears and drowning out the rest of her gushing. She didn’t notice the way your face contorted into something horrified, too caught up in her own daydreams to realize she had chipped away the last piece of what was blocking your mind.

Abruptly, you stood, chair scraping loudly. “I have to go. Thank you for inviting me out for coffee, it’s been a pleasure meeting you both.”

Yoimiya’s eyes widened in surprise, as she hurried to stand up too. “O-Oh! So soon?”

“Yes.” You nodded stiffly. “I’ll see you around. Hopefully we can be friends.”

“I would love that.” She smiled at you. “Say hello to Kazuha for me, won’t you?”

-----

How did you not realize it sooner? You were kicking yourself on the walk home, berating your own mind for being so weak-willed to fall for him so easily. It was so obvious in hindsight that something was off about him, but it seemed you weren’t immune to whatever charm he’d put the neighbourhood under.

With a steeling breath, you tried to steady your racing thoughts. You couldn’t let yourself spiral, not when the danger was so close. Your head was clear, so the grip he held on your mind had snapped—or at least weakened—but he was still present, lurking one house to your left.

When you got to your door, your heart stopped as you met a familiar set of crimson eyes, as if he was waiting for you.

“Ah, [Name].” Kazuha smiled, drawing out the sound of your name like he was savouring it. “I was just about to knock on your door.”

When your heart pounded this time, it had nothing to do with love. “Y-Yes... I was just out grabbing coffee.”

“At the cafe down the street?” Kazuha's smile widened. “They make a wonderful macchiato.”

“Mhm, I'd best be going.” With a forced smile, you push past him and slide your key into the lock, turning it with a click. “I'll see you around, I guess.”

But before you could leave, a calloused hand caught your arm.

“Would you like to join me for dinner?” Kazuha asked, the lazy smile still playing on his lips. For once, the sight didn't make your chest flutter. For once, the curl of his mouth seemed too sharp to be considered charming. There was something a little too eager in the grin, an almost-hunger that made your skin crawl.

You thought of sweet Ayaka, and her dazed expression; bright Yoimiya, her sparkling eyes dulled as soon as his name was mentioned.

Whatever twisted game he was playing, you wanted no part in it.

You pulled your arm away, shooting him a venomous glare. “No. Thank you.”

And with that, the door was promptly slammed in his face.

-----

After the initial shock wore off, your mind clicked into gear. It started with the locks, checking every door and window to make sure they were bolted shut—just to be safe. Then, the plan.

If being aware of his control over you was what broke you free, then you just had to make sure that everyone was aware.

“Isn't there something odd about that Kazuha?” You had brought up the topic as causally as you could, in the middle of a chat with your other neighbour, but she still froze.

“Oh, such a sweet boy he is,” The old woman gushed, as if she only heard his name.

“Yes, but he's a bit strange, right?” You pressed.

“Hm? I have no idea what you're talking about, love?” She frowned. “Are you okay?”

Soon, you switched tactics.

“Do you believe in the supernatural?” The question almost made you cringe as soon as you said it, but you didn't let it show. Your newest target—Heizou, who lived three houses down—stared at you blankly.

“Eh? Like spirits and demons, and stuff like that?” Spirits, demons, monsters... even if you didn't know what Kazuha was, you knew he wasn't human.

“Yeah.” You nodded stiffly.

He paused in thought. “Well, I suppose you can call me a skeptic. The possibility isn't ruled out in my mind, but I can't say I go looking for ghosts.”

“What would you do if you thought you had discovered someone you know is a supernatural creature? A spirit or demon of some kind?” You paused. “Hypothetically.”

Heizou raised an eyebrow. “...I'm not sure. Is this hypothetical creature malicious?”

“Not... outwardly.” Outwardly, Kazuha was the most friendly, polite, and perfect person you had ever met. That was the problem. “But I fear their intentions. There's no way to be certain if this creature will cause harm, and they've proven to be capable of it.”

“What an interesting hypothetical you have here...” Heizou chuckled. He saw right through you, you could tell that much, but he still seemed willing to entertain your questioning. “Tell me a bit more about this 'creature'. What are their characteristics?”

You hesitated. “They can... charm people, I think. It's like as soon as you talk to them, you're completely entralled without even realizing it. And by the time you do realize it, you're the only person who has, and everyone else has already fallen for him.”

“Sounds like a siren.” Heizou looked over them curiously. “This isn't a hypothetical, is it?”

You were silent.

“Thought so.” Heizou laughed, completely unconcerned by the idea of a monster in his vicinity. “Well, I would say there are two options here.”

“Which are?” You asked urgently.

“Confront him if you're concerned.” Heizou shrugged, his smile amused. “Otherwise just leave him be. I doubt you're in any danger, [Name].”

The problem was he had no intentions of leaving you alone. You'd tried, tried as hard as humanly possible to avoid him. You had even made yourself late to work, day after day, by delaying your exit from your house, all so you didn't have to walk past him in the morning. Somehow though, even when the street was empty, he would still manage to appear and draw you into a casual chat.

While you had naively assumed your blunt dismissal would be enough to scare him off, the rudeness only seemed to entice him into chasing after you.

“I'm busy, I have to go.” You said, each time angrier than the last. But he kept coming back, undisturbed by your rolling waves of fury.

“You fascinate me,” he admitted one day. “I've never met anyone quite like you.”

“Likewise.” You said through gritted teeth, before closing the door and locking it.

He did fascinate you, but not in the way he meant it. You were fascinated by him in the same way a fish was fascinated by shiny teeth of a shark. He was the predator and you were the prey, no matter how sweet his howls sounded to your ears.

It was scary how easily you were forgetting the danger he posed, how quickly you slipped up and found yourself craving the sound of his voice again. You had to remind yourself to keep him at arms length, until you could break his control over the neighbourhood.

But you couldn't escape him, not when he lurked in every corner, and especially not when his interest seemed squarely fixed on you. It was only a matter of time before you slipped up, before—

“I've been looking for you everywhere.” The sound of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. You dug through your bag, searching desperately for your house key with your back still turned to him. “I thought you were avoiding me...”

So he noticed.

When it was clear your keys were not there, you forced yourself to turn and face him, grimacing at the amusement in his eyes.

“I wrote a poem for you, [Name].” Kazuha finally smiled. “Do you want to hear it?”

Your chest seized. This was it, then. The moment that he ensnared you for good. You knew as soon as his sweet, melodic prose reached your ears, you would be too far gone to resist him.

“N-No!” You stumbled backwards. “No!”

There was a brief flash of alarm that flickered over his expression, before it shifted to a frown. “[Name]? Are you alright?”

“Stay away from me.” You hissed, back pressed against the door. “I know what you're doing, and it's not going to work on me!”

“What I'm doing? I have no idea what you mean. Are you feeling okay?” Kazuha asked, that familiar care in his expression that hurt to pull your eyes away from.

“I-I know what you are. The rest of this place might be under your spell, but I'm not, and I'm not gonna let you entrance me again!” The words were spilling out before you could stop them, like the floodgates had been opened and all of your pent-up anger was flowing out. “You think I would just ignore the effect you have on me a-and everyone else? You're a siren, or—or some kind of demon, or—”

“Really? And what effect do I have on you?” Kazuha's tone was curious, perhaps even surprised.

“You... know what I mean...” The anger was fizzling out the longer you talked to him, leaving your shoulders slumped and your head dizzy.

“Do I?”

The longer you spoke, the more... absurd it all sounded. How could you have let yourself come to such a ridiculous conclusion, when Kazuha had been nothing but kind... polite... charming...

Within seconds, the sticky feeling had tangled its way back into your head, melting your thoughts together into a Kazuha-filled fog.

“I meant what I said,” He said quietly, almost a whisper. “You truly are fascinating.”

Kazuha stepped back, leaving a healthy amount of space between you. Some distant part of you screamed at the loss of closeness, but it was lost to the sound of your heart pounding.

“And by the way” He paused, fishing through his pocket to pull out a familiar set of house keys, with a small piece of paper tucked into the keyring. “You should keep better track of your keys. Wouldn't want to get locked out... who knows what kind of people are lurking.”

In a half-witted daze, you managed to catch the keys, staring dumbly as Kazuha turned and left. It was only when he had disappeared from your vision that you had the thought to shove the key into the lock and let yourself into your house.

In your hands, the piece of paper slipped through your fingers and fell to the floor, the words glaring at you in bright red ink.

Bright, clear, steady eyes,

Staring straight through howling storms,

Keep your senses sharp.

🏷️ taglist: @tragedy-of-commons, @mollzaj, @wystiix, @mikashisus.

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai

[supernovafics]

𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐍𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 5.9k words

summary: in which it’s been six months since a random night in a bar brought together two pairs of best friends, and two couples were formed. in those months that came and went, almost in a lovestruck blur, they entailed a countless amount of formal double dates, late night hangouts in someone’s apartment, and more moments in bars that led to lazy days in bed the next morning due to the hangovers. at times things felt way too good to be true. but, in a good way, a great way. you loved steve, and anyone with two eyes could easily see how much he was in love with you

warnings: explicit language, smut (mdni!), lots of fluff, a lil angst, soft!steve/steve being so adorably in love with reader 

author’s note: read part one here! for once i’ve written something that is not drowning in angst! lmao i almost went in a completely different direction with this but i wanted to keep it lighthearted and fun and cute so anyway enjoy!<33

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was hard not to admire Steve while he was asleep in your bed.

He always looked so peaceful; head against the pillow that quickly became “his,” hair mildly disheveled and going every which way, and mouth pulled into a straight line that looked soft instead of hard and sweet instead of firm.

You wanted to kiss him. But, you couldn’t do so right then, so instead, you took another sip of your morning coffee and simply watched him as you leaned against your dresser.

“You’re staring,” He mumbled, one side of his mouth quirking upward in a small smile.

“Your eyes are closed right now, so I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” You responded, making your tone sound completely confused.

Steve opened his eyes then and you immediately pulled your eyes away from him and became fixated on a random spot on your wall. You took another sip of your coffee to mask your growing smile.

Steve’s smirk deepened as he maneuvered in the bed and sat up to lean against the headboard. The now lack of comforter covering his body revealed his chest that was bare, because you were wearing his shirt, and revealed the top of the navy plaid boxers he had on.

“I could feel your pretty little eyes on me, honey.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at him because he knew exactly how affected you were by any term of endearment he’d use on you; they always made you slightly cringe while simultaneously folding into a giant ball of mush.  

“I hope you know that I do in fact hate you anytime you do that.”

Steve ignored your statement, which was pretty much a blatant lie, and only smiled at you some more. “C’mere.”

You wanted to play with him a bit longer, pretend that he couldn’t make you fold so easily; even though he absolutely, completely always could and did. But at that point, you knew you couldn’t resist, and you honestly didn’t want to.

Placing your mug down on the dresser, the next few moments passed by in a knowing blur that felt like second nature to you because of how frequent the events would happen. You settled yourself in Steve’s lap, knees on either side of his waist. His hands snaked under your, his, shirt to find your hips and give the skin a light squeeze.

“You should still be sleeping right now,” You said, hands coming up to rest on his shoulders. “You were up a lot later than me last night.”

His new job wasn’t that demanding, but because of how much Steve loved it, he made it much more intense than it actually was, and he was completely happy with that.

It had all happened about a month and a half ago. Marissa had convinced you all to go to her ten-year-old cousin’s middle school basketball game. It was almost a two-hour drive to where they lived in Indiana which was close to the border of Indiana and Illinois, and actually kind of close to where you and she had grown up in Illinois.

When the four of you walked into the slightly empty gym and saw that the team was losing pretty badly, you found out quickly from Marissa’s aunt that it was because their coach quit last second, so the kids were pretty much fending for themselves along with a parent acting as coach who had no athletic experience so he was just telling them to do whatever they wanted.

Robin was the one that jokingly mentioned that Steve had been the star of their high school’s basketball team and would probably be a great coach, and Marissa’s aunt perked up at hearing that and successfully convinced the other parents in the crowd to have him do it. He was initially reluctant because he didn’t think he’d be good, but there was nothing scarier than adamant parents who wanted to see their kids win, so, of course, he ultimately said yes.

In a way, it seemed almost perfect how easily Steve was able to fall into that role, and when the team won that night, for the second time out of the eleven games they’d played so far that season, the school offered him a permanent coaching position right then.

He was slightly hesitant and didn’t accept the job at first. Because he knew the pay wouldn’t be the best and the commute every day would be brutal. But, even as he told you those cons, you could already see how happy the idea of the job itself made him, and how second nature it seemed.

“It’s the random opportunity that has fallen into your lap.” You had told him that night in his bed, fingers running through his hair and a small smile on your face. “You have to take it.”

And he did.  

And he loved it and put his whole heart into coaching those little middle schoolers; coming up with new plays and ideas for practice almost every night. You found it both adorable and endearing how seriously he took it.

“I’m okay,” He responded with a small shrug, and then he looked up at you as he smiled, leaning closer to you. “Besides, your staring problem makes it really hard to sleep.”

You almost playfully shoved him, but your eyes instead slipped shut when his lips found your neck. You were still able to respond somewhat coherently, though. “Hm, I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Steve mumbled something against your neck that you couldn’t make out but the soft hum of his lips against your skin made you want to combust. Before he left any marks on your neck, because he knew how much of a hassle it was for you to cover them, he moved up to trailing soft kisses along your jaw before finally reaching your mouth.  

“Mm, coffee,” He whispered against your lips, tasting the slight remnants of what you had been drinking before he woke up and what was still sitting on your dresser.

You slowly started moving yourself against him and it made you smile how quickly a soft groan fell from his lips at your action. “There’s a fresh pot in the kitchen if you wanna get that right now instead of doing this.”

Steve groaned again at a particularly rough stir of your hips. “I think coffee can wait.”

“Great answer,” You said and kissed his nose.

His hands went to the hem of the t-shirt and you almost helped him pull it off of you, but a knock on your door halted your next movements.

“Hey, lovebirds, wake up if you’re still sleeping.” It was Marissa’s slightly muffled voice coming through the door. “Or if you’re fucking, please stop. Also, it’s barely nine in the morning so if you are fucking, you two are insane.”

You refrained from laughing at her statement as you softly swatted Steve’s hand away that was still trying to push your shirt upward.

“What’s going on?” You asked, voice loud enough so your best friend could hear you.

“Important family meeting.”

“Once again, something about you calling all of us a family feels slightly incestual,” You said as you began maneuvering yourself off of Steve.

“I know you hate it, but we are kind of a little family,” You heard her say. “In a completely nonrelated, ‘we’re two couples who are also all best friends’ kind of way.”

In a way, Marissa was right, and you could fully see that. Six months ago the four of you were two separate little pairs of friends and now there were two couples and four pretty close friends.

You all were a tight-knit group that was forged together by one random Friday night in a bar, and sometimes this strong interconnectedness worried you. Because if something happened to either you and Steve or Marissa and Robin, you had no idea what that would mean for the rest of the group.

Anytime you’d have those moments of worry, something would always tell you that in the end, it would be you to mess everything up. It was an irrational thought, a part of you knew that, but it still felt way too true because of how almost “wrong” it felt for things to be this good.

How deeply you’d found yourself loving Steve in such a short period of time still scared you as much as it made you feel so fucking happy.

“You okay?” Steve asked, pulling you out of your thoughts as he came up and wrapped his arms around you from behind.

You instinctively leaned into his touch and let your previous thoughts fade away as you always did. You never verbalized these fears to him, or even Marissa, a part of it felt unnecessary and you also didn’t want to fully acknowledge your worries because of how much more real they’d feel if you did say them aloud.

Your next words came out in a soft mumble. “Yeah, I’m good. Just thinking about stupid stuff.”

Steve didn’t question you any further and simply nodded at your response before sneaking a quick kiss on your cheek and then moving to slip his jeans on.

You pulled his t-shirt off and tossed it to him as he headed toward your bathroom, and then you went to put on a random wrinkled hoodie of yours. Before opening your door to head into the living room, you grabbed your cooling coffee off of your dresser and took a sip, glad that it was still mostly warm.

“Morning,” You smiled at Robin who was leaning against the kitchen counter and eating a buttered piece of toast. You began refilling your coffee with what was left in the pot because you knew Steve would want some when he emerged from the bathroom.

“Morning,” She smiled back at you and took another bite of her toast. “Where’s the dingus?”

“Bathroom,” You answered and she nodded at that. “Do you know what this ‘family meeting’ is about?”

Robin quickly shook her head. “Nope. Marissa’s keeping me in the dark too.”

“That’s because I want you all to be surprised,” Marrisa said, from where she was sat cross-legged on the couch, textbook open in her lap because she had a huge test in a couple of days and had been religiously studying for it for the past week. Her nearly perfect time management skills still always managed to amaze you.

Steve came out of your room moments later and you held out the mug for him. He smiled at you as he took it and pressed a quick kiss against your lips. “Thank you. Love you.”

You leaned into him and his free arm circled around your shoulders. “Love you too.”

He took a quick sip of the coffee and let out a small sigh of contentment. “Did I miss the meeting?”

“No, and now that you’re here, I can share the great news,” Marrisa said before getting up from the couch and joining you all in the kitchen, standing next to Robin. “Okay, so remember how we all have been talking about how we need to take a couple’s trip soon?”

You all nodded along to her words, and you almost said that it was really only her that had been talking about doing a couples trip for the past few weeks, but you refrained from doing so because she looked so happy with what she was about to say.

“My aunt has a really nice cabin right by a lake and she said we can use it for a weekend. Next weekend, to be specific. So clear your calendars.”

“Ooh,” Robin said as she wrapped an arm around Marissa, pressing a soft kiss against her cheek. “Sounds fun.”

“Yes, and only slightly like the beginning of a horror movie,” Steve joked with a small laugh. His words startled you a bit because that was exactly what you were about to say.

You smiled up at him. “I think we share the same brain.”

He grinned widely at that and pecked your lips. “Can I keep it for the rest of the day?”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was actually very rare that you and Steve would have either apartment entirely to yourselves. Although it shouldn’t have been rare because the four of you could’ve easily come up with some sort of system to make sure that you and Steve, and Marissa and Robin were alone in one of your two shared places, but none of you really cared enough to do it.

But, on this night, it was just you and Steve in the apartment he had with Robin because she and Marissa were out seeing a movie that neither you nor Steve really wanted to see.

Things were quiet but the good kind, the comfortable kind. Steve was sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch while also hunching over the coffee table as he brainstormed and wrote out some new plays that he wanted the kids to try out next week. And you were laying on the couch, a campaign that you had been working on for the past week in your hands as you stared at it for what felt like forever. Your boss had told you there was something wrong with it, but she didn’t tell you what that “wrong” thing was so you were left simply staring at the paper and having absolutely no idea what to change about it.

“Hey,” You said softly to grab Steve’s attention and when he turned his head to look up at you, you held up the paper in your hand for him to look at; maybe a fresh pair of eyes could tell you something that you couldn’t see. “What’s wrong with this?”

Steve stared at it for a few moments and then his eyebrows furrowed. “Is this a trick question? It looks really good to me.”

You let out a small sigh as you let your eyes focus on the paper again. “Yeah, that’s what I thought too.”

Steve was about to say something else but before he could, the sound of the phone ringing in the kitchen stopped him and caught both of your attention.

He started moving to get up, but you stopped him and stood up instead. “I’ll get it. I need a break from looking at this.”

You headed over to the kitchen and picked the phone up off the hook, placing it at your ear. “Hello?”

“Hey– Wait, who is this? This is a girl’s voice, so you’re definitely not Steve. But, you’re not Robin, either.” It was clearly a guy’s voice on the other end, but it didn’t sound familiar to you.

“I’m Y/N.”

“Holy. Shit.” The sudden and pure excitement in his voice slightly startled you. “The Y/N?”

“Um, yeah, I guess?” You answered, pretty much answering his question with one of your own. “Who’s this?”

“I’m Dustin. Steve’s friend. Probably his best friend after Robin, even though I was technically here before Robin,” He said and it all kind of clicked into place for you from there because of how much you heard about him from Steve and Robin. “Anyway, it’s cool to finally meet you. Well, sorta meet you, I guess. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Your attention turned to Steve, who was back to being hunched over the coffee table, and a small smile took over your features. “All good things I hope.”

“Oh yeah, literally only good things. Steve’s obsessed with you.”

You let out a small laugh at that. “Oh, really? Do tell me more.”

Dustin didn’t waste a second to launch into a story. “He was rambling to me about you for a good two hours last week. He was just going on and on about how you guys went to some bar and were playing pool, and you were really good which he thought was so cool. And you were making fun of him for being bad, but still let him win a couple of games. He does absolutely suck at pool, I know that for certain.”

You remembered that night pretty vividly, mainly because it had happened barely a week ago but also because you’d never forget how bad Steve was at pool. You actually thought it was kind of cute. You also didn’t think it had been that obvious that you let him win a few times.

“He said he wouldn’t mind getting beat by you in pool for the rest of his life,” Dustin continued on. “He specifically even mentioned something about being old in wheelchairs. He’s so in love with you. You’re definitely his Suzie.”

“Suzie?” You questioned, and at that Steve finally pulled his attention away from what he was doing and looked at you.

“Who is it?” He asked you and you ignored him because your attention was solely trained on hearing Dustin’s answer.

“Suzie’s my girlfriend and she’s amazing and awesome and pretty much perfect,” The teen explained. “It’s awesome that Steve’s found you. From how he talks about you, you sound pretty perfect too.”

You smiled at his words.

It was then that you realized exactly how different things were with Steve. Because hearing about how much he loved you and how often he’d lovingly ramble about you didn’t scare you in the slightest. You knew that if this was any other relationship, any other guy, you’d want to immediately run in the other direction. But, you honestly didn’t want to run away and that realization made all of your previous worries and fears feel nonexistent.

Dustin started saying something else, but you couldn’t make it out before Steve took the phone from you.

“Henderson,” He said in an annoyed voice to the boy on the other end of the line and then looked at you. “What embarrassing stuff did he say to you?”

“Oh, nothing embarrassing at all,” You told him as you headed back to the couch, a sweet smile on your face. “Just how much you love me and my fantastic pool skills. Which actually aren’t that good, you’re just really bad. But, I still love you.”

He playfully flipped you off with a roll of his eyes and a small laugh as he continued talking to the teen on the other end.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was a soft kiss pressed against a certain sensitive part of your neck that pulled you from your sleep. Sleep that had been much needed after the first night at the lake house that ended at one in the morning after a heated game of charades against Marissa and Robin that happily resulted in you and Steve winning. 

You groaned at the feeling and rolled on your side to try and lull yourself back to sleep, but Steve pressing more kisses to your neck and then your face fully woke you up. 

“You told me to make sure you wake up early, remember?” He mumbled against your ear before pressing another kiss to the side of your head.

“Mhm,” You muttered as you turned on your side, letting your sleepy eyes meet his. “I sadly do remember saying that.”

“Come on, we have a sunrise to go watch,” Steve told you, a small smile on his face. As usual, his smile did something to you and made you smile back at him even though all you really wanted to do was go back to sleep. “Which was completely your idea, by the way.”

“Sometimes my ideas aren’t the best,” You responded but finally got up anyway. 

Steve was already in a hoodie and sweatpants since it was unsurprisingly cold outside, and the same small smile was still on his face as he watched you pull on your own pair of old sweatpants and a random hoodie in a half-asleep daze. After you slipped on your shoes, he leaned down a bit in front of you and turned around so his back was toward you. “Hop on.”

“God, you’re the best,” You said as you wrapped yourself around him, arms circling his neck and legs circling his waist, and he lifted you up and led you out of your shared room.  

You almost told him to go toward the room Marissa and Robin were sleeping in and force them to come watch the sunrise with you two, but you kind of just wanted to have this moment solely with Steve. 

He let you down once he made it to the wooden bench that perfectly overlooked the lake and would let you both have a good view of the sunrise. It was still fairly dark outside, but you could see the beginning remnants of sunlight starting to take over the dark sky. 

When the two of you sat down you immediately maneuvered yourself so that your head was in Steve’s lap, which made your legs dangle a bit off the edge of the bench. 

“Back in Hawkins, there’s this place called Lover’s Lake. Being here slightly reminds me of that,” Steve said as his fingers started mindlessly playing with the drawstrings of your hoodie. “I should take you there soon.”

You playfully smiled up at him. “Ooh, I finally get to see your hometown? This relationship is getting quite serious.” 

He let out a small laugh as his eyes met yours. “Yes, and I’m planning to go ring shopping next week, actually.”

“Make sure you take Marissa with you,” You said jokingly but attempting to make your voice sound as serious as possible. “She’ll know which one you should get for me.” 

“Don’t worry, I already asked her to come.”

“Good,” You said, nodding at him. “Now back to this Lover’s Lake place. It sounds exactly like the kind of place where someone would take a date for a late night making out in a car kind of vibe.”

He was quiet for a bit until he mumbled, “No comment.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his sudden shyness and you grabbed his hand to intertwine it with yours and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it. “You can talk about old girlfriends and dates or whatever, y’know. I’m not gonna get jealous or anything. The past is in the past. And I’ve heard plenty of stories from Robin, anyway.” 

“Why would I wanna talk about past girlfriends when I can think about the future?”

“I don’t think I wanna hear about your future girlfriends,” You joked, a small smirk on your face. 

He lightly poked your side, causing you to laugh loudly. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t think I do,” You said with a shake of your head. Even though you actually knew exactly what he meant, you wanted to hear him say it.

“My future with you,” He responded, eyes meeting yours. 

“Oh,” You said as if it all finally clicked into place for you. “Can I hear more about that future?”

Steve smiled at that, more than happy to talk about the thoughts that almost always circled his mind. Thoughts you already knew because conversations like these would usually happen in a post-sex, pillow talk haze where he would ramble and you would listen and almost always reciprocate, playing into the fantasies he was cooking up and adding your own. 

It always felt easy to imagine something more with Steve, sometimes way too easy. Especially after the conversation with Dustin, you felt like you could fall even deeper into Steve and everything would be completely okay. More than okay, actually. 

“Well, there’s our house, of course,” He started and your eyes slipped shut as you imagined the picture he was painting of your future together. “Which can’t be too big, like the house I grew up in. But, it does need to be big enough for all of our five or six kids since we’re both a little insane and think that having that many is a good idea.”

His hand was still intertwined with yours and you gave it a light squeeze. “We need to have enough for a basketball team so that you can coach them.” 

“Makes sense,” Steve nodded, smiling at you. “Also, a big house means a big backyard for the dog too, which is great. She’ll have lots of room to play.”

Your eyes opened at that. “I thought we agreed on a cat?”

“I’m still heavily advocating for the dog.” “Okay, we can do both,” You told him. “I’m thinking a golden retriever and an orange tabby.”

He looked at you in a certain soft and sweet way that made you feel a little nervous and caused your stomach to swarm with butterflies.

“What?” You asked shyly, pulling your eyes from his and looking up at the orange hues that took over the sky. 

“I just love how we can talk about this kind of stuff, even though it’s only been six months,” He said. “And probably from that first night we met, I’ve been thinking about us and you and this future with you that is technically far away but also feels so close. And if I said that to any other girl, they’d probably be running for the hills by now.”

The vulnerability of his words sat with you and when you looked at him again, you couldn’t help but smile at how sincerely happy he looked right then. Even though you were completely comfortable in the position you were in with your head in his lap, you let go of his hand and sat up so you could kiss him. It was your nonverbal way of letting him know that you wouldn’t run away, and he must’ve heard you loud and clear because he only kissed you harder and pulled you impossibly closer to him.

“Those girls would be idiots if they did that,” You told him when you pulled back from the kiss and the two of you were still only a breath away from each other. Your eyes were closed as you said your next words. “You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to entertain the thought of having six fucking kids with. And it’s scary as hell but the good kind. Because, yes it hasn't even been a year yet, but I already know that I want that house with you and that backyard and that dog and cat. Because I love you. Like, a lot. Like, so much so that I feel like I wouldn’t be able to function properly for at least five years straight if I ever ruined things with us. And I’m kinda rambling a lot right now, but whatever.”

Steve’s lips found yours again and the abruptness of the action caused you to softly gasp into his mouth. He pulled you sideways into his lap and both of his hands cupped your face in such a tender way that you felt as if you could melt into him right then and there. Your fingers started lazily circling the drawstrings of his hoodie. 

“I think we’re definitely missing the sunrise,” You muttered against his lips but still didn’t fully pull away.

“It’ll happen again tomorrow,” Steve said simply and you completely agreed with that. 

His hands traveled downward to snake themselves underneath your hoodie and you sighed in contentment at the feeling of his fingers against the bare skin of your hips and then your waist. You wanted more, you needed more, but you couldn’t allow that “more” to happen on a wooden bench.

“We should go inside,” You told him, words more so coming out in a soft plea, and Steve nodded almost immediately at your request. You took one last look at the way the sun was reflecting so prettily off of the lake before he led you inside the house. 

With both of you fully clad in a hoodie and sweatpants, it felt as if there were a million layers separating you two from one another and you desperately needed that to change. Shoes came off first and were kicked somewhere by the door and then your hands grabbed at the ends of Steve’s hoodie, helping him pull it off and he did the same with yours. In between quick and chaste kisses, piece after piece of clothing item was littered on the floor of the living room and dining room until you made it to your shared room and you were only in your underwear and Steve was down to his boxers. 

His arms circled around you from behind when he closed and locked the door behind you both, and he started walking you toward the unmade bed before he turned you around and softly pushed you down against it.

He leaned over you, lips ghosting over yours before pulling back a bit and you couldn’t take the teasing so you pulled him roughly against you, his body weight crushing you in the best way possible and his warmth enveloping you completely. 

“I love you so much, baby,” He mumbled against your lips, and although that was something you knew, your heart still squeezed at hearing those words. 

“I love you too,” You told him as you started kissing all over his stubbly jaw. 

Your hips bucked upward at the feeling of his hardness pressed firmly between your thighs.

“I need you inside me. Please,” You told him as you moved your hips again and he groaned in your ear.  

He could only nod at your words as he maneuvered off of you a bit, pulling your underwear down and tossing it somewhere in the room and then spreading you for him. 

“So pretty,” He said, dragging a finger through your wetness, catching your clit for a brief moment before pulling away. 

“Steve…” Your moan came out in a soft sigh and your eyes fell shut. “Please.”

“Anything for you, baby.” His lips pecked yours before he finally slipped out of his boxers. 

When he finally entered you, filling you to the hilt in one slow motion, you both moaned in contentment. For a few moments, he stayed just like that, words getting lost in your hair as he said, “Just wanna feel you like this for a bit. You always take me so well, baby,” and you could only respond with a soft, barely coherent, “Mhm.”

You adored moments like these. The softness of it all, the slowness of it, how much love you could feel laced within every thrust when he started moving. Noses and lips brushed over each other haphazardly, panting breaths and moans not allowing your mouths to connect for more than a brief moment. Your eyes met his dark but loving gaze and you could feel your cunt flutter around his cock, which elicited a loud groan for him. 

One of his hands firmly found your hip, holding tightly so he could push into you harder. Your back arched and you nearly screamed at the new feeling of him hitting so deep inside of you. 

“Doing so well, baby,” Steve mumbled, lips finding your neck. He was still moving at his slow pace but hitting that perfect spot inside you with every harsh thrust. “Fuck. Taking everything I give you so fucking well.”

“Steve,” You breathed out, unable to say anything else. 

He kissed you roughly, tongue darting in to taste you for a brief moment before speaking. “I can tell you’re close. I can feel you fucking, ah, squeezing my cock.”

You nodded profusely, a small whimper falling from your lips. “Mm, so close, yeah.”

“Touch your clit for me, baby.”

You didn’t hesitate to listen to him and let one of your hands snake between your bodies and begin circling the small bundle of nerves. You immediately started seeing stars. 

He kissed you again, swallowing your loud moans. “Good girl.”

The soft praise made you clench around his cock again and you could feel yourself getting closer and closer as you continued the ministrations you were making on your clit. 

“‘M gonna come,” You muttered, moving your hand faster to match Steve’s quickening thrusts,  and you could feel the coil in your stomach tighten. 

“Do it, baby. Come all over my cock. I wanna feel it,” He told you, pulling back a bit so he could watch as you did so. Eyes screwed shut and legs shaking as your back arched and you let out a particularly loud moan. Steve continued fucking you through your orgasm. “So fucking pretty.”

Through your fucked out whimpers and soft pants, you reached out to pull him close to you again, and your mouth began sucking on a particularly sensitive spot under his jaw that you knew would send him tumbling over the edge with you. Which it did right as your tongue grazed over the skin. 

“Ah– ah, fuck,” Steve stuttered out as he came inside of you, and you moaned loudly at the feeling of his warm cum painting your walls. 

He lay on top of you for a few moments, both of you too spent and too lost in your post-orgasm hazes to do much more but let your shallow breaths take up the silence. When his breathing steadied, he slowly pulled out of you and pressed a quick kiss to your neck before padding to the bathroom that was connected to your bedroom to grab a damp washcloth to clean the mess between your thighs. 

He then got back in the bed, pulling the blanket over the two of you and circling his arm around your waist to bring you flush against him. 

You could feel yourself slowly falling asleep in his arms, and you were close to simply letting it happen, knowing that you both could probably use another hour or two, but then you were reminded of something.

“We need to get our clothes from out there or we’ll never hear the end of it from Marissa and Robin.”

“Mm, in five minutes. I just wanna lay here with you for a bit longer,” He told you, voice slightly muffled because his face was buried in your neck. 

“Okay,” You agreed since you felt way too comfortable to move anyway.

“You could never ruin things between us, by the way. You know that, right?”

You were slightly confused about where Steve’s words were coming from, but then you remembered that in the midst of your rambling outside on the bench, you had said that; that you had finally verbalized those worries that had plagued you but now felt so unimportant.

You nodded at his question. “I know.”

“Good,” He said as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “Because you could hit me with your car and I’d still be so fucking in love with you.” 

You softly laughed at that and shifted around so that you were facing him. “Am I allowed to test that out?”

“I’d rather not, but if that’s what it takes,” He answered, a smile on his face as one hand reached up to stroke your cheek.

“It’s okay, I believe you,” You said, turning your head a bit so that you could press a soft kiss to his palm. 

You both simply stared at each other for a bit, letting a silent conversation play out where you told him through your smile how grateful you were for him because you’d never known anyone like him; someone genuinely sweet and kind and effortlessly funny and who could always, always match your energy just right. And Steve acknowledged your silent honesty and showed how amazed he was to have you in his life as well by slotting his lips against yours. You two lazily kissed one another until you fell asleep with your limbs tangled up and the discarded clothes out in the living room long forgotten.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

[schumachersricciardo]

Shiver

Chapter Four - Fathers Be Good to Your Daughters

♡ Mick Schumacher x Reader, Best friend!Danny Ricc x reader

♡ TW: PLEASE READ BEFORE PROCEEDING!

This chapter contains descriptions of physical, emotional, AND mental abuse by a parent to their child. It contains descriptions of the aftermath of the physical abuse. It also contains scenarios where reader is verbally abused by a parent. If this is triggering for you, there will be a TLDR at the very end of the chapter. Please scroll down to the end of this page if you want to know what this chapter is about, but not read it in its entirety.

♡ TW: Swearing, inaccurate timeline of F1/F2/F3, badly translated German using Google, not proofread, anxiety and panic, crying, alcohol consumption, a mention of throwing up (but not graphically or anything), allusions to a smutty situation, mentions of female anatomy, making out (??), angst, hurt/comfort, physical/mental/emotional/verbal abuse - read above.

♡ She/Her pronouns are used, nothing descriptive about reader except that her hair is long enough to pull back into a ponytail or braid, no reader insert, timeline skips. ALSO: WARNING!!!! I will barely be mentioning Michael Schumacher. I do not presume to know what he is thinking, or would say in these fictional scenarios. I am trying to be respectful of their privacy and not make any assumptions!!!!!! He will be mentioned here and there, but I do not believe any dialogue will be associated with him. If you do not like that, then do not read it. :) 

♡ About 12.3k words, lmao. Oops

♡ A/N: For one, this chapter was so emotional and personal for me to write. I'm very happy with the way that it turned out, as it took me about two days to complete it! It's quite a long chapter, so please take breaks if you need to. Thanks again for being so nice to me, and I hope you enjoy it.

Also, this chapter is not in chronological order of events. I based the sections on what lyrics are put and what I thought would go well with them.

I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU DECIDE TO READ OR NOT READ!

If you or anyone you know is a victim of abuse, please do not hesitate to call the provided numbers after clicking any of the links at the bottom of this page.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

based on the song lover of the light by mumford and sons 

“Stretch out my life and pick the seams out

Take what you like, but close my ears and eyes

Watch me stumble over and over” 

Mick knew from a very early age that having solid friendships was something very important to have in order to build a strong foundation in life. He saw that modeled so dearly by his father, and all the friendships he had made over the years. His older sister had great friends who treated Mick with nothing but respect… And some pranks. And his mother (besides the envied relationship she had with his father, her husband) always stressed that having good, pure of heart friendships would take you further in life than anything else. 

And for the first time in his life, Mick felt that warmth and joy with you just weeks after you had moved to Germany. Your friendship bloomed quickly and tightly, as you two seemingly became inseparable. It was a rare sight seeing one of you, without the other at school. Everyone could notice the shift in momentum when you were absent and Mick was left confused as to what to get to lunch that day. And vice versa, when he’d be gone - you’d be often found wandering around the school’s library not actually picking out a book, at every recess you had. 

But Mick as bad at math as he was, was more acutely aware of any signs of emotional or mental change in you than one would believe. He could see it in your expressions and body language if you were going through something at home. Your nose would scrunch more and you’d have more difficulty doing simply math problems than usual. You made it a point to never chew on your pencils or straws, but if you were particularly stressed… You could easily bite through the stick of lead or plastic. Mick knew this and he recognized it more as your friendship grew. Most of the time, you’d reassure him with the exact smile he fell in love with and most of the time he’d take your word for it. 

Except the day he didn’t and refused to let up when he could tell it was more than just stress. 

“It’s fine, Mickey, just drop it.” 

“I will not drop this, Smidge!” Mick was now chasing his best friend down as she stormed out of his room. 

“Leave it alone, ugh!” You spat back, as you opened the back door and tried to create some space between you and the blond boy. You took your hair out its ponytail holder in frustration, trying to make that antsy feeling going away by running furious hands through your hair. 

“Smidge, I swear, if you do not tell me what is going on right now-“ 

“Oh, you swear?” You turned on your heel in anger and gestured towards whatever imaginary thing you were gesturing as you huffed. “You swear you’re going to do something about it? Huh? Fuck off, Mick!” 

Mick let out a scoff, which kind of turned into a laugh? He was laughing now? You rolled your eyes and turn your back on him once again. You had plopped yourself on the lawn, looking out at the vast city line in front of you. You began to pick at the grass below you, your hands needing something to fiddled with to try and center your anxiety. You took a deep breath. Mick could see from behind the way your shoulders rose, and shakily fell. He knew you were trying not to cry. And of course he never wanted to see you cry, but part of him wishes you did. He knew it would probably make you feel better… But to be honest, the last time he could remember you crying in front of him was when you fell off your scooter just a few meters from the very house you were constantly visiting. Mick tried to shake that happy thought out of his mind, because he didn’t want to ruin it. 

“Smidge… Please, I know there is something bothering you, and I promise I will not tell anybody else… But you know I hate it when I cannot help you.” Mick spoke softly as he took a seat beside you. You avoided eye contact. 

Mick was trying to decipher what your facial expression was like, but your hair had fallen and was covering the view. He took a deep breath and reached his hand over to yours. Grabbing your fingers delicately, while also trying to get you to stop pulling out the grass, he gave your hand a squeeze. You squeezed back gently and still without making eye contact, you scooted closer to him. You leaned against him, your head on his shoulder. He adjusted as needed, his right arm placed behind him so he could support the both of you.

You always found comfort and safety tucked underneath him. And you knew that you two would be sharing a blanket and watching a movie in no time. But that fleeting thought only gave you a second of relief. The two of you remained in silence as you listened to the rustling of the wind as it danced with the leaves and branches. You could hear birds chirping in the distance and you could practically cut the calmness of the world around you with a knife. This is where you wanted to be. You never wanted to leave this spot, but life was never that kind and soon enough, reality pulled you back in as Mick’s humming brought you and your daydreaming to a halt. 

“I didn’t do well on my last math exam.” You stated. 

Mick stopped humming. He was trying to figure out why that of all things had you so upset. He didn’t comment though

“I got a B- or something…” You sighed. “I studied and I studied… But I only got a B-… It was humiliating.” 

“I am sorry about that, Smidge. I know how much you value getting good grades.” Mick finally responded. His tone was… trying to be supportive, but he really didn’t understand why getting a B- in math was so devastating. He would LOVE to get that grade on a math exam, even after studying. 

“I don’t care about getting good grades, Mickey.” You retorted quicker than you probably should have. You stiffened your posture and moved away from him. Your heart rate was picking up and you were getting nervous. Mick noticed. He noticed everything when it came to you. 

The blue eyed boy wasn’t sure what came over him next, but as you sat now sort of in front of him, he guided his hand up to your face and moved your hair out of the way. He tucked in what he could behind your ear, a few pieces falling still. You looked up at him and he could finally see… and feel just how distraught you were. 

“He cares that I get good grades.” You finally croaked out. 

Mick’s facial expressions now were the confusing ones. At first he was relieved you told him. The next second he was confused as to why that was the reason you were upset…. And the third was panic. And he’d never admit this to you, but if it were because of some guy at your school making fun of you for something like that… Oh he’d have some words with that person. 

“Oh… Ehmmm… Oh…” Mick pressed his lips together in confusion. You could see the gears moving in his head as he tried to figure out who you were talking about. 

“My dad.” You finally cut him off. He looked as though he was about to give himself an aneurysm if you didn't stop him from thinking so hard. 

“Oh.” 

Now, Mick has always had his suspicions about your home life. For instance, when you didn’t come to class one day when you two were younger, the teacher had made a comment about if he knew about your home life or not. He then went to his father and asked advice. He let it go for the time being, because you really weren’t absent a lot, but he made sure make a mental note for later. Seemingly, you had a pretty decent home life. You got along with your older brother, and you always said your mom was one of your best friends. Albeit, you never spoke much about your father. He was in the military and pretty high up in command. His job was very ‘hush hush,’ so even you, his daughter had limited if information on what he actually did as well. You always spoke about him with respect though, and never making it seem like there was anything going on at your house. 

But Mick… Mick was sorely mistaken. You were wearing a zip up jacket which wasn’t uncommon, but Mick did think it was a bit warm for it. He never would dream on commenting on what you were wearing though. Slowly, you peeled the jacket off of you and as slowly as you did, was as slowly as he could process what was in front of him.  

Your arms were littered with bruises. Not just bruises, fingerprints. Someone was pressing into your skin, your precious beautiful skin so hard that they left their fingerprints. Mick blinked quickly, trying to see if his brain was playing tricks on him. Soon enough, you took off your shirt as well. Mick didn’t even care to notice you in your sports bra. But there were even more bruises on your skin that you had been covering for some time now. Based on the yellowing on the biggest one near your ribs on your left side… You had gotten hurt a while ago. Yet, there were bruises on your back and your chest that indicated they were fairly new. Mick felt like his heart was going to explode and his brain was going to go with it. 

You allowed him to look at you - to process the information presented. You thought that showing instead of telling would be more effective, anyway. Moments later, you put your shirt back on and sighed. And if you weren’t sat in the middle of Mick’s backyard, you’d shed your leggings too to show the damage there.

Mick shakily breathed out your name, which he never called you. He always called you Smidge or Liebling - never your real name. He himself felt tears brimming in his eyes as he watched you put your shirt back on and throw your hair back into a ponytail. It was as though the visual he was getting was completely different from the mental images he was receiving. He couldn’t catch up and he just did not know what to do. 

“How long?”

Mick finally gained composure and demanded to know more. His tone was serious, short. He was never this… Cold with you? You could tell he was absolutely fuming too. The tips of his ears were turning red as his jaw pulsated with every clench of it. Now he was the one unconsciously grabbing clumps of grass and ripping them to shreds. 

“What???” You tilted your head. 

“How. Long. Has. He. Been. Beating. You.” The angrier he got the more German he got too. His accent was quite thick as he stood to his feet and began pacing. It was never a good sign when he would pace. His fists were wound up in tight balls, knuckles pale white with tension, as he thought of every scenario in which he could kill your father, and get away with it. 

“Mickey-“ 

“No, don’t you dare ‘Mickey’ me right now! How long has he been beating you up?” Mick cut you off and rushed towards you. He was just inches from you now. 

You knew he was angry, irate even. And you knew he’d never hurt you, and that this anger was not directed towards you. But on instinct, you backed up as your breath caught in your chest. 

Mick shook his head, running his hands through his hair. He knew his parents would be home soon and he knew if they saw how angry he was… They’d have questions, and he could never lie to them… Which means they’d figure out exactly what was going on with you… Which meant… Well, war. 

You took another deep breath and bravely closed the gap between you. You had never felt anything like you had before Mick. You had never had a boyfriend, nor any friends that even came close to the security you felt with him. You reached up and caressed his cheek, his face leaning into the palm of your hand. You almost never initiated physical touch besides leaning on him. But he always welcomed it no matter how limited it would be. He closed his eyes and grabbed your hand in his, the both of them interlocking as he nuzzled into your hand farther. 

“I…I can’t remember how long, Mickey. I can’t remember how long it’s been since it started.” 

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“I have done wrong, you build your tower

But call me home and I will build a throne

And wash my eyes out never again”

There were rare occasions that you and Mick were not together, but he was handsome and simply because of his surname, was like catnip to ladies. While you were still in Formula Three, Mick had graduated to Formula Two. Even so, having his last name meant he was probably getting more invites than the average person. 

But come on, no one is average in Monaco. 

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” 

“Yeah, you too!” 

Women’s bathrooms at parties and clubs were something else. There was no caste system in place and if you needed to cry about your ex or needed to puke your brains out before Gasolina came on (but who wouldn’t), a women’s bathroom at a club felt like the safest place to do those things. 

“You’re with Shoemaker, right?” The very clearly drunk girl beside you yells in your face. Sure, you were also drunk… But why was she yelling? 

“Schumacher.” You corrected. 

“Yeah!! He has blond hair and is super hot? Yeah, dude, my friend was hardcore hitting on him and getting the vibe from him…” The girl beside you held in a burp… Or maybe she just was just not trying to puke in her mouth. 

“Sure, he’s handsome.” You finally answered. You just wanted to get some water. 

“Oooookay, well I th-think my girl is going to try and make a move on your friend,” The drunk girl slurred as she was trying to get the cap of her lipgloss separated from the tube of the glossy pink liquid. “I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything between you guys!” 

The girl began applying her lipstick as you tried to process what she was saying through your own drunken state. Finally, it all came together and you turned your head to face her. 

“You hunted me down just to ask me if your friend has permission to sleep with Mick?” You tried to sound as sober as possible. 

The girl shrugged her shoulders and shot a quick smile to you as she gathered her purse. 

“W-Well, you guys are always together! She just wanted to make s-sure you weren’t a thing.” You nodded as she finished speaking and primping her hair. 

And maybe it was because you were drunk, the emotion of jealousy arose in you. Luckily, your cheeks were already flush from the shots of tequila you consumed earlier. You were sure Mick always had girls trying to hit on him and maybe they were successful in doing so. Mick was an adult and as long as they were consenting adults too, what’s the harm in him having a little bit of fun? 

What’s the harm, right? 

“No, Mickey and I are not a thing. So, uh, tell your friend to not worry about - not to worry about me.” You finally responded as you blotted a cold and wet paper towel on your face. The girl grinned and blew a kiss in your general direction, soon then stumbling out of the bathroom just as clumsily as she had stumbled into it.

You took a few deep breaths and looked down at your phone screen. The letters were moving on the screen as you tried to focus your eyes long enough to reach the Uber app. You didn’t know why you wanted to leave all of a sudden. Consciously, you knew Mick had his pick of women and probably picked from them when he wanted to. Yet again the giant green monster clung to your chest as if it was part of your beating heart. Sloppily typing your location into Uber, you managed to click ‘Order.’ 

Your driver is 13 minutes away. 

You took one last look at the bathroom sink making sure that at the very least you had your wallet and hotel key card. Nodding to yourself, you made your way out of the bathroom and back into the sea of sweaty bodies and blasting music. The exit sign was aglow about 50 yards in front of you??? No - that can’t be right. 50 feet? 50… Dancing bodies? And as you did your best to toddle over to the exit, you finally managed to get out the door. 

The crisp, cool air was a refreshing touch after being in a crowded club for hours now. Frankly, you didn’t like going out to clubs, but Mick did and any chance to score some free tequila was always a win in your book. You leaned up against the wall beside the club closing your eyes. 

“Smidge? Was machst du hier draußen (What are you doing out here)?” A familiar voice, a very hoarse one at that brought you out of your drunken mini nap as you pried your dry eyes open to see who that was.

“Sie sollten nicht alleine draußen sein (You should not be outside by yourself).” 

Mick’s usual perfectly coiffed hair was messily atop his head as his porcelain cheeks were red with the heat of the club and many shots of jäger he did. He wore a simple dark blue button up and black jeans. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows lazily matching the state of his hair. You smiled at the boy in front of you and eyed his hair up and down. 

“I’m going home, Mickey. Well, not home-home.” You shrugged shoving your phone in his face. He backed up and his eyes squinted at the screen. 

Your driver is 8 minutes away. 

“Alright, Smidge.” Mick took a lean against the same wall just next to you. 

Your shoulders were barely touching when you could feel his fingers try and find yours as your arms were at your side. Your heartbeat began to pick up as your hand finally found his. And it wasn’t a full hand hold… Yet this felt much more intimate. Barely interlocking fingertips, he hummed softly to himself as he looked up at the night sky. 

“How did you even know I was out here? I thought you were getting hot and heavy with some chick somewhere.” 

Mick let out a breathy laugh. He shook his head in disbelief and smiled widely. 

“Hot and heavy?” He repeated in jest. 

“Shut up.” 

You rolled your eyes and tried your best not to look at him. You knew he was staring at you with those eyes and you also know you turn into a puddle when you look into them… especially when drunk. 

“But no, I was not getting hot and heavy with that chick somewhere.” Mick finally spoke. “I’ll always find you, Smidge. Ihre Sicherheit steht für mich an erster Stelle (Your safety is my number one concern).” 

“Ich bin erwachsen (I’m an adult).” You groaned looking at your phone screen. 

Your driver is 4 minutes away. 

The two of you stood again in silence as you still waited for your driver to arrive. Mick hummed to himself and suddenly, was kneeling on the ground. You looked down in utter confusion as he began to undo the clasps to your heels. He didn’t say a word as he managed to effortlessly undo both shoes of yours… And you were honestly impressed because you thought he was way more drunk than you. Taking something out of his own crossbody bag, he opened a tiny case and handed you some flats. You had told him a while ago about these ballet flats you saw on the internet that easily folded up for ease of access. You didn’t think he was paying attention, but there he was as he slipped the flats onto your feet and grabbed your heels. 

You were frozen in stance. He was acting so casually as he looked down the road for the driver. Your heels were in his one hand while the other reached behind him for your hand. Hesitantly, you placed your hand in his and walked over to the curb. 

“I think I see our driver.” 

“Our driver?” 

Your best friend and you exchanged equally as confused expressions. Mick’s expression was that of offense and disbelief, while yours was of perplexity and unsureness. 

“Well, yeah. I am not about to send you back to your hotel room in the middle of the night in Monaco - alone.” Mick stressed and stretched out the last word as if it were supposed to be something completely obvious to you. 

“Again though, I am an adult, Schumacher.” 

Soon enough, the Uber driver pulled up to the curb and rolled down his driver’s window. The driver asked you for your name and as you recited your first and last name for some odd fucking reason, Mick opened the back door for you and ushered for you to get into the car. You eyed him carefully trying to decode his actions. Sliding into the car and putting your seat belt on, you were surprised when Mick also slid into the car. 

“Can I change the address of the Uber? I will pay whatever you need to do so.” Mick chirped as he leaned towards the driver. 

Your best friend and the driver exchanged the how’s of it all, and finally the car began to drive away from the still busy club scene. 

“Why did you give him your address?” You whispered. You could feel the alcohol still inside yourself, swimming in your veins. 

“Alone. Hotel room. Alone. Monaco. Alone-“

It was as though Mick was reciting the Winter Soldier’s trigger words. He spewed off the reasons and tried to also go through the whole ‘Concern for your safety,’ lecture one more time, this time with more emphasis. And truly, you didn’t know what came over you - or maybe you did and maybe those tequila shots were in fact a terrible idea - but as he was ranting and raving about the streets of Monaco and how (and this was very true) unsafe it was to be a woman alone at this time of night, you leaned over and cut him off with a press of your lips to his. 

Mick’s hands found your waist as you had your hands on either side of his face. You had to remind yourself that you were still in the back of the Uber. Pulling away, you could see how glassy his eyes were, yet still filled with the same affectionate expression he always had towards you. Cuddling and tucking yourself into his side, you could hear him humming as he draped a hand over you. 

“Thanks, and sorry for the confusion earlier.” Mick gave the driver an extra cash tip before the two of you made it to his condominium. 

Mick drunkenly fumbled with his keys with one hand while holding yours with his other hand. You tried to pry your hand from his so he could have an easier way of unlocking his front door, but the grip he had on you said otherwise. 

“If I can have a super license… I can open the door with one hand, Smidge.” The front door finally swung open after what felt like an eternity.  

The two of you shed your shoes and as he plopped your heels down on the counter and washed his hands, you managed to find some food in his fridge. 

“I’m drunker than I thought…” Mick mumbled as he came up behind you, his arms wrapping around you. You ever so slight leaned your head back so your the sides of your heads were touching. 

And as you both looked at the inside of the fridge, not wanting to move, you could only turn around to face the boy. You put your arms around his neck and placed a kiss on his forehead. The intimate act was not lost on Mick, either. And this time his hum sounded differently than usual as he closed his eyes, holding you tightly to his body. 

Finally as you two peeled apart, you grabbed a few beers and some leftover pizza, turning on your heel. Mick followed you as you navigated your way into his room. Well, he’d also just follow you anywhere, but as you entered his room, he could swear he was dreaming. 

Mick helped you put the food and beer down and told you he was just going to changed into sweats as he disappeared into his bathroom. At the same time, you rummaged through his closet and drawers to find clothes. You dawned one of his old Ferrari shirts and some shorts you found that actually fit you.

After you both had changed, you got comfortable and sat on his bed criss cross waiting for him to come back. Mick was in his bathroom, his sweats already on, but his mind racing a mile a minute. 

You both were way too drunk (even if it didn’t seem like it) to take things anything further, but for some reason tonight the ambience was much different - more intimate. It was the feeling he so desperately longed for you to feel as well. He’d never force you or guilt you into feeling the way he always has for you, but he was just happy to be able to be there for you when you reciprocated. 

Even if it was just for one night… Mick kept repeating in his head as he splashed his face with water. 

Mick exited the bathroom and smiled softly at the sight in front of him. You were absolutely glowing and the fact that you were wearing his clothes was even better. This was the life he wanted with you, and he knew he’d wait an eternity to earn it. And in any lifetime, he would want to find you, he knew that much to be true. 

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“Skin too tight and eyes like marbles

You spin me high, so watch me as I glide

Before I tumble homeward, homeward”

Mick was absolutely dominating Formula Two, just as he did in Formula Three. So there you were visiting Mick the day before free practice was going to start in Silverstone. 

He knew that your mother had just been diagnosed with cancer and that your time was vastly being taken up by transporting her from place to place when you could. Mick would always offer to help, but you didn’t want him to get involved in your family drama… Well, with your father. 

“I think you’re going to do great things tomorrow, Mickey.” You smiled widely as you went to reach for something in the cupboard above you. The two of you were at his hotel room as he relaxed after a hard day of training and sim driving. 

“You always say that, Smidge.” Mick peered over his shoulder to you, his eyes half focused on the video game’s loading screen in front of him. 

The sound of dishes breaking quickly pulled him out of his half trance. He was on his feet and over to you as fast as Edward stopped that van crashing into Bella. 

Your hand had been cut by the falling and breaking glass, the blood slowly beginning to pour out of the wound. You were praying you didn’t have to get stitches. 

Mick responded hastily, grabbing the nearest dish towel and wrapping your hand with it. Pressure. Pressure. Pressure. He repeated in the back of his head as he pressed gently to your palm. 

“I could have helped you, Smidge.” Mick broke the silence as you winced at his touch. As he helped you to your feet, he guided your hand under the now streaming water. 

“I’m a big girl, Mickey.” You retorted, clearly aware that you were contradicting yourself as he washed your wound of any passing infections. 

He just hummed in response as he shut the water off and examined your hand. He repeated that he thinks you didn’t need stitches, and that he would return shortly the first aid kit. True to his word, he gestured for you to take a seat on the couch. It was as if he knew exactly what you were thinking too, the way his touch was almost nonexistent because it was so soft as he bandaged your hand. Oddly though, you cowered in pain as he moved your arm to the side. It was an unseemly way of moving it, too as Mick tried to see if the bandage was tight enough on the side of the hand he couldn’t see. 

Mick cocked his head to the side and stared at you with one look: That better not have been because of what I fucking think it is. 

You hesitated being the one to break the looming silence between you two now, but you thought if you didn’t he’d say it aloud - and to have someone else say it aloud was sometimes worse than you admitting it. 

“It’s not what you-“ 

“Show me.” Mick cut you off, his deepening blue eyes piercing the air with every hyperbole you could think of. 

“Mickey, it’s really nothing. You just moved my arm a weird way, I’m okay.” 

“Show. Me. Now.” 

And as you always do what you’re told, you lifted your shirt slightly and before you could even take it off, Mick was stood on his feet and typing something into his phone. He didn’t utter a word to you for the next several minutes, he was just typing furiously on his phone. You had put your shirt back on and remained silent and sat on the hotel’s couch. You knew there was no stopping whatever he was doing. 

“I have to finalize it, but you are to have security now. One guard, or eighteen, I do not care - You are no longer going to be alone.” 

“Mick, I can’t have a security guard. I don’t even want one.” You took a deep breath and exhaled. 

“I do not fucking care! I don’t! I really do not fucking care.” Mick had slammed his phone down on the counter making you flinch. 

Fuck. And as he watched you carefully, you began to sob for only the third time in your entire friendship. Mick cursed himself in all the languages he knew as he approached you with trepidation. Sitting beside you, he began to mutter apology after apology, also in every language he could muster up in that moment. Mumbling again to himself, he grabbed the blanket off of the back of the couch  and wrapped you both in it. You were still crying as you tucked yourself safely into his side. You felt badly for staining his shirt. 

“Ich weiß nicht, was ich tun soll (I don’t know what to do).” You spoke in a whisper as you gripped onto his shirt with dear life. 

And frankly, maybe his way was a bit extreme, but he only had one train of thought as he hummed between the two of you, his arm tightening around you. 

Take you far away from him and bring her home to you, Schumacher. 

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“I know I tried, I was not stable

Flawed by pride, I miss my sanguine eyes

So hold my hands up, breathe in and breathe out”

As school children, it seemed like the two of you were inseparable. There were weekends where you didn’t see him, of course, but you’d always get to talk on the phone after his karting events. You truly appreciated the way his family opened up their home and arms to you, as well. You really didn’t know how much they knew about your own home life, but it was something to be said that they never invaded your privacy. 

Mick had finished second in his karting race, which wasn’t the result he obviously was vying for, but it was amazing nonetheless. As his family made their way back to the hotel room, he got cleaned up and made his way over to the tiny kitchen. 

“Has she called yet?” Mick’s small voice interrupted his mother’s train of thought. 

“No, baby. But I will let you know when she does; I always do.” Mick’s mother reassured him as he frowned and walked towards the tv area of the hotel room. 

Mick’s mother sighed and watched her son sulk on over to the couch. She knew how much he cared for you, and even as young as he was, she also knew he loved you. He might have not known it was love at the time, but she knew all the signs of it and he exhibited every single one of them. She put away whatever she was working on, and made her way over to the couch. She sat beside her son and grabbed his hand reassuringly. 

“Is there something wrong, Sohn (son)?” 

“She never is this late to call me, Mama…” He quietly uttered. “I think there is something wrong.” 

While his mother pressed for more information he truly didn’t have, he tried his best to vocalize all the things he noticed about you that were not typical. His mother began piecing the tiny bits of information he was giving to her together and all she could was sigh. She couldn’t have fathomed what you were going through at home and maybe Mick didn’t realize the signs as he listed them off for her, but she sure did. Part of her wanted to do something about too, right then and there… But it wasn’t totally her place either. She didn’t know the severity of the situation or if Mick was retelling things as correctly as a young boy could. All she could do was put it in the back of her head and make note of it. 

A few hours later, Mick’s mother entered the room where Mick was relaxing on the full sized bed. He was playing some game on his Gameboy, his tongue slightly hanging out in pure concentration. She cleared her throat and handed him her phone. It took him a second to register what was happening, but as soon as it clicked he put his Gameboy down and grabbed the phone excitedly. Mick’s mother couldn’t help but smile as she left her son to his own devices. 

“Smidge! Finally, you call. I have been waiting all afternoon for you to call!” Mick was energized now as he set up on his bed. He could hear you shuffling around, presumably trying to find a place to sit. 

“I’m sorry I’m late.” 

Now, Mick was around a lot of loud karts and when he’d go to his dad’s races, those were even louder. Was his hearing as bad as it was at his age or were you being abnormally quiet? 

“Smidge? I can barely hear you! You have got to learn to speak up on the phone.” 

Again, you said something but he could barely understand it. He tried to push you to speak louder as he pressed the phone to his ear as closely as he humanely could. 

“Es tut mir… Leid. Ich… verstecke… mich und muss… flüstern… (I’m sorry. I’m hiding and I have to whisper).” You finally sputtered out in broken German. 

Mick’s eyes widened as he finally understood what you were telling him. He didn’t care if you spoke an entirely different language, he would do anything he could to understand you. 

“Vor wem versteckst du dich (Who are you hiding from)?” Mick was fully sat up, his legs dangling off the side of the bed now as he was on alert. It took you another few moments to gain enough bravery to speak. 

“I’m hiding from-“ 

Suddenly, you were cut off by a booming voice. The voice was deep and loud enough that Mick could hear it over the phone. He pulled the phone away from his ear as he tried not to be afraid. The voice on the other line was muddled, but Mick picked up a few things here and there. 

“WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT THE PHONE?” 

“NO, YOU LISTEN TO ME, GIRL!” 

“I’m sorry, dad! I’m sorry, please!” Your voice was frantic as you defended yourself to the best of your ability. 

Mick was rushing now to where his mom sat on that same couch. He gestured for her to put it on speaker and listen too. Mick’s mother’s expression fell as she listened to absolute abuse you were going through and she knew right then and there, it would be something she would have to do something about. 

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up, you stupid little girl!” 

“Daddy, please-“ 

And then the line went dead, with the sound of your phone being crushed - stepped on in brute force. 

Your voice was so tiny as you shrunk into yourself. You had no intention of allowing the Schumacher’s to hear that part of your life. You were deeply worried that they were going to try and intervene now and make matters… worse? You had a million thoughts going a million miles a minute. 

But just as fast as those thoughts raced through your mind, was just as fast as your father stepped the phone. Mick knew you would deny everything, or at least tell him that your father was just exceptionally upset that day. He knew you’d come up with any and every excuse to protect the very man who was supposed to be protecting you. Mick couldn’t comprehend any of it. But he knew he would be there for you to make sure when you were ready, and you let your guilt be washed away… That he would make certain you never hurt again. 

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“And in the middle of the night, I may watch you go

There'll be no value in the strength of walls that I have grown

There'll be no comfort in the shade of the shadows thrown

You may not trust the promises of the change I'll show

But I'd be yours if you'd be mine”

Mick and the rest of his family were on a short summer break in Australia. He offered for you to join him as he always wants you by his side, but due to your mother’s declining health you had to refuse. Of course he understood, but he was still disappointed. He remembered distinctly you telling him that Australia was one of your favorite places and that you wish you could move there one day. 

And it being summer in Australia, the sun was sweltering and Mick was trying not to get sunburnt as he sat under the tree near the lake where his family was staying. There was an old bench swing attached to the large branches above it. Mick debated the stability of the swing and the branches, but eventually gave in and sat on it. Gently swinging back and forth, he took in the scenery and the sight of the beautiful vast lake in front of him. 

He missed you. And sure he missed all his other friends, but you weren’t just anybody else. He missed you. He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and searched for your name. Opening up the text message thread between you two, he began to type. 

Smidgen ❤️: Smiiiiiiiidge, i misssssssss you!! 

You were at your mother’s house, trying to spend as much time with her as you could. She was taking a nap in the recliner beside you when you heard your phone ding. 

You: Mickey, you sound drunk. Are you drunk? You know you’re not supposed to text people when you’re inebriated 😅

Mickey 🐭:  Never! But I am not drunk, I just miss you. 

You: Mick, you always miss me. How is Aussie? 

Mickey 🐭: Boring without you.

You: As are most things. I’m sorry I couldn’t join you this year. 

On the other side of the world, Mick sighed as you two continued to text. He loved his family and he loved his off time, but a deep seated part of him that had been growing and growing over so many years worried about you being by yourself. What if something were to happen and he was three continents away from you? What if he couldn’t protect you? You had always tried to reassure him that you could take care of yourself when he would be away, and that typically when you were at your mother’s house, you in fact were left undisturbed. 

He knew this. But he didn’t care for it nonetheless. 

Another two weeks went by on his vacation and as he tried to keep busy with various adventurous activities, the image of your smile and the sound of laughter filled his brain as if it they were always meant to be there, resting neatly in the crevices of his mind. 

There was only about a week and a half left before he got to go back home to Germany. Mick was sprawled out on his bed, listening to some music. Soon, the sound of the doorbell ringing caught his attention. He was the only one currently home, so he annoyingly turned his music off and got up to go see what the fuss was about. Upon opening the door he was stopped in his tracks. He practically had to scoop his jaw off of the floor. 

“Smidge? Do my eyes deceive me?” You shook your head with a grin. 

Mick engulfed you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground and peppering your face with kisses. He was always very affectionate with you. He brought you inside and gathered his breath back into his lungs. You had a duffel bag and a backpack with you that you managed to set down finally after the long awaited reunion was over. Looking around the house that was clearly lived in, you turned back to your best friend. He was grinning one of the biggest grins you had ever seen on his face while he grabbed two water bottles. Opening yours for you, he handed you the bottle and waited for you to sip it. 

“I cannot believe you are here! I think this is the happiest I have ever been.” 

“I can see that!” You laughed along with him as you took a few more sips of water. You sighed happily as you put the cap back on the bottle. “Is there a place I can put my stuff?” 

Mick nodded with elation as he grabbed your two bags. Gesturing with his head, he motioned for you to go towards his room. You opened the door and saw that the bed was made and it was fairly clean. It was almost as if he knew you would come here. Mick set down the bags and awaited for you to finish your scan of the room. You turned around and didn’t realize how closely he was standing behind you, as you collided with his body. He used his hands to steady you and definitely took the opportunity to bring you into another hug. The smell of his cologne was familiar; safe. You nuzzled into his chest as his arm found solace wrapped around your body. 

He didn’t know why you were here, and he really didn’t care, but he also knew that there was probably a good reason. It had to have been a good reason if you left your mother with her home care nurse, instead of… 

Suddenly, Mick braced for the worst. 

“Mick… Mick, you’re squeezing me too tightly.” You croaked out trying to unravel yourself from him. Immediately, he loosened his grip on you and smiled slightly. 

“Sorry, Smidge. I just missed you a lot.” The two of you made your way to his bed and laid down on it together. 

You easily found your way to the side of him and nestled in comfortably while he rested his head on top of yours. 

“As glad as I am that you are here… Is your mother…?” Mick awkwardly tried to start a conversation. He needed to know one way or the other. 

“She’s alive, Mick. She’s alive.” 

The blond boy sighed a sigh of relief, pulling you even closer to him. He could feel his body relax and his body temperature increase when you would cuddle him. He didn’t respond to you, only hummed in consolation. 

It had happened before in Monaco, the overwhelming feeling that you needed more from him. He didn’t pry further as to why you were there, and maybe that was a big reason as to why you were feeling pulled to him. For once, he didn’t press you to explain yourself or question why you bought a plane ticket all the way to Australia when your mother was as sick as she was. He simply was there to be there, and that meant more to you than anything at that moment. 

You climbed on top of him, your bodies finding their ways around each other. Your legs were on either side of him as you sat on his torso. His hands found your hips, his eyes finding yours. And as glanced down at the boy below you, you wondered to yourself if this was always how it was supposed to be between the two of you. Leaning down and closing the gap between you, you again pressed your lips against his. 

It was more fervent this time though. The catastrophic and carnal need to feel his hands roam your body and his lips claim yours as his overwhelmed your senses as your body melted into his. He was vigilant as he explored your body with his hands, making sure he wasn’t hurting you. You had to take a breath between the multiple shows of endearments between the two of you. His eyes were glued to you as you sat back up on his torso. Peeling your shirt off, you tossed it somewhere. Mick just watched in adoration as you removed your bra as well. He looked at your body on top of his as though you were sculpted by DaVinci himself. And by all accounts, you were.  

You blushed at the attention he was giving you, only to remove yourself from sitting on top of him. He frowned and wondered if he did anything wrong. But before he could begin mentally listing things he could have done wrong, you tugged on his own shirt. He sat up and reached his hands back behind his head. 

“Can I?” You interjected quickly your eyes filled with curiosity.

Mick just smiled and nodded. He let his shirt fall again and waited for you to approach him. You scooted closer to him and took a deep breath in and released. Sure, you had seen him shirtless countless amounts of times, but this was much, much different. You didn’t mind it. 

Your fingers found the hem of his shirt and with a trying motion, you began to pull the shirt over his head. He assisted you a bit, his broad shoulders getting in the way of you being able to pull the shirt completely over his head. Your fingers began to dance down his chest, the circles and trails they were leaving behind was a feeling Mick would never forget. Still sitting up, you climb into his lap and had your legs on either side of him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and gently tugged at the hair on the nape of it. Again, with a hunger and desperation you had never felt before your lips crashed into his and his hands found your hair in a hurried attempt to get as close to you as possible. 

He never wanted to let go of you and the feeling that came with this. He had loved you for so long. And to have you here, in his bed, making it known that maybe… just maybe you loved him too… He didn’t want to wake up tomorrow morning. He didn’t want it to be a dream. 

“Bist du sicher (Are you sure?)” Mick finally breathed out in between sloppy kisses. You gleamed at him, your lips swollen with fervor. Biting your bottom lip, you nodded. “I need words, schätzen. I need you to say-“ 

“Yes. I’m sure, Schumacher.” 

Mick pulled you in again, his lips finding your neck as he peppered it with kisses, sucking ever so prudently as he made his way up and down the soft skin of your neck. 

You didn’t know what would come after this, after everything was said and done… But for now and just for now, you wanted to be his just as much as he wanted to be yours. 

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current day 

“So love the one you hold

And I will be your goal

To have and to hold

A lover of the light” 

It had to remain to be seen how long Hamilton was going be out of the season. He was going through some personal issues and while you knew Silverstone was going to be your first race, you didn’t expect to have to race before that. And of fucking course your first race is Monaco. You were busy training and preparing for the course, trying your best to keep a strong head on your shoulders. There was so much pressure with you being the first female driver and Monaco being your first official race, that you began to feel nauseous. Finding the nearest bin, you excreted the contents of your stomach into it, grimacing at the bitter taste that came afterwards. 

“Kiddo? Are you right?” Daniel’s thick accent interrupted you washing of your hands. 

“Yeah, fine. I’m just nervous.” You washed your mouth out with the sink water and wiped it on the nearest towel. 

“I get that…” Daniel looked around the paddock as you followed him with your eyes. “Hey, do ya think we can go somewhere private, to chat?” 

You cautiously nodded and led him to your driver’s room, shutting the door behind you. 

“What’s this about, Dan?” 

Daniel awkwardly sat down on the chair and ran a hand through his curls. Making a few tiny popping sounds with his mouth he finally looked at you. 

“Is there, uh, something goin’ on with you and Mick?” 

“What do you mean?” 

Sure, you two weren’t talking as much anymore. And you didn’t think it was that obvious, but you remained stoic trying to gauge where this conversation was headed to. 

“He’s been like, really, weird.” Daniel struggled to get the words out as he scrunched up his face. 

“Uh… I’m sorry that’s he’s been acting funnily, but maybe he’s going through something on his own.” You shrugged your shoulders. 

“Well… I mean… He’s acting like, more, sulky than usual?” Nodding along as the Aussie driver continued to list off reasons as to why and how he was more sulky, you finally stopped him before he said anything else. 

“I’ll talk to him, don’t worry, Dan. I’m sure it’s nothing.” You shot him a smile and waited for him to respond. 

“He loves you, you know. Like, a lot. Like more than the average man has the capacity for love.” You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. 

The last time you two had really spoken in person was when you ended up fighting. You knew he loved you. You knew he was in love with you… But he also knew that you try so hard to not allow yourself to be vulnerable like that. And maybe the relationship was physically reciprocated, Mick struggled with the fact that it was not emotionally reciprocated more than anything. You loved him, sure. He was your best friend… But the voice inside your head knew that for your own protection, you shouldn’t be allowed to love anyone… Especially Mick. You didn’t deserve him and he didn’t deserve someone who has made him wait this long for something he so desperately craved. All you could do was reiterate that you’d talk to him and try to get him to be less-sulky. 

The Australian soon left the room and you were alone. Pulling out your phone, you quickly dialed Mick. 

“Schätzen, is that you? Are you okay?” Mick’s tone was immediately serious as he answered the phone. You two were barely talking and now you were calling him. 

“I’m fine, Mickey. I just wanted to know if you wanted to get dinner tonight.” 

“Tonight?” Mick was fumbling with something on the other end. It was odd too that he didn’t immediately accept your dinner invitation. 

“Is tonight not a good night for you?” 

Soon, your heart dropped once again and as it lay wafting in the pit of your stomach, you could feel whatever contents were left in there if any, slowly creeping their way back up your throat. 

“Who is that?” It was a woman’s voice. She was giggling. “Ugh, Mickeyyyy, hang up!!!” 

Mickey. 

No one else called him that except for you, in fact he made it a point to not allow it. That name was reserved for you… So you thought. 

Mick mumbled something to her in French, his hand covering the microphone. 

“Yeah, I could make tonight-“ 

“Nevermind, you’re busy and I don’t want you to give up your evening just for me.” Your tone as surprising as it was to you, was actually quite genuine. You never wanted him to feel like he couldn’t have fun. 

“Smidge, I can-“ 

“No, seriously it’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Mick continued to move around where he was, the thick accent of her Monegasque-ness peeking through the phone call.  

If your German was terrible, your French was even worse. You sighed to yourself and decided to hang up the phone. He wasn’t paying attention to the conversation and you didn’t want to pay attention anymore. Rubbing your eyes, you grabbed your backpack and headed out of the paddock to your car. 

There was something that had changed so quickly about your surroundings. As you reached for your keys it was if the wind was knocked out from your lungs. You slowly turned around, keys still in your hand. 

How the fuck did he find you here of all places? 

“Hello, daughter. Shall we have it out at your place of… work… Or is there somewhere I can knock some fucking sense into you?” 

You looked around at the parking lot and by every strand of bad luck, it was seemingly empty and you two were the only ones there. You had every intention of shutting it down, right then and there, but you stood frozen in front of the man who was supposed to love you, but instead you spent your entire life picking up the pieces of the mess he made. Some of the pieces were even lost in the trauma of trying to keep your composure long enough to get where you were. Mick was always the one to lend you the broken parts that seemed to fit perfectly, just so you could have the wherewithal to start over again… And again, and again, and again… 

“Did you suddenly go mute? Answer me.” You flinched in response, your back hitting your car behind you. You could just hear him calling you pathetic. You knew he was thinking it. 

“I can drive us to my hotel room. Just… Just don’t make a scene, okay?” 

Your father rolled his eyes as he snatched the car keys from you. With your head hung like you were a little girl in trouble again, you trudged over to the passenger’s side. You placed your backpack in the back seat and waited for your father to drive off and take you hopefully to your hotel room. 

What seemed like a century later, you two were up in your hotel room. You stood on opposite ends of the living space provided. 

“This is quite fancy. How can you afford it?” 

“Formula One pays well, but I know you’re not here to talk about my job.” You were short with him, trying to keep your emotional and mental distance. “Why are you here, dad? I’m very busy and-“ 

He hastily closed the distance between you, grabbing the back of your head, clumps of hair intertwining with his knuckles. Forcing you to look up at him, his glaring and empty eyes matched his unwavering stoicism. He squinted at you, smirking. 

“Pathetic. You’ve always been fucking pathetic.” Releasing your hair, your father smacked you in the face, causing you to be  tossed to the ground, by brute force. He was now circling you like a vulture does a dead zebra. You didn’t dare look up at him. You remained submissive on the floor, making certain that you didn’t shed a tear. 

“Where’s your boyfriend now, huh? Not coming to your fucking rescue this time?” You didn’t answer. 

With a swift kick to your side you fell over on the cold floor and held your ribs in pain. Still, you did not cry.  

“Answer me! I asked you a goddamn question!” 

You opened your eyes to find your father towering over you still, sure as hell ready to deliver another kick to your side. 

“He’s out with friends! Out with friends!” You repeated in complete fear. You could hear your father scoff and walk away from where you were. 

You thought that would be the last of it, and as you began to get up there was another kick to your side. This time it was a little lower as you felt the pain radiating up and down your leg. He must’ve hit your thigh or something. 

You were breathing heavily, doing all you could not to cry. After he got a good look at you, he threw your phone down at your feet. He surely shattered your screen. And fuck if it if he didn’t know what he was doing, because he did in fact kick in places you could cover up. And even so, you the blow to your face wasn’t hard enough to leave a lasting mark. Just one for the time being. Fuck. 

Soon enough, you could hear the hotel room slam. You were sure you were going to get complaints from other hotel goers, because it ended up shaking the walls. With every bit of strength you had, you reached for your phone. The screen was indeed cracked, but still usable. You knew that Mick was out and occupied… Your heart cried hoping that where he was, he’d hear you and come… But you also didn’t want to bother him… You leaned up against the wall, your breathing shallow. Looking at the phone screen you dialed the only other person you could think of. 

On the third ring, they answered and you resented how happy they sounded. 

“Oi! Can’t get enough of me, huh?” Daniel’s accent poked through the phone as you tried to gain enough composure. 

You were afraid of him seeing you like this, because you were one hundred percent sure he had no idea what abuse you’ve gone through your entire life. It was strictly need to know between you and the Schumacher’s. Releasing the pent up air in your lungs finally, you stuttered out his name. 

“Wait, wait, what happened?” Daniel’s tone of voice suddenly changed as you repeated as best as you could the turn of events. You could hear him grabbing his car keys and leaving his apartment. 

“I’m sorry, Dan. I’m so sorry… I’m sorry…” You were incessantly repeating, your sobbing growing louder and louder. He was trying his best to reassure you through the phone. He instructed through his own panic to stay on the phone with him until he got to you. 

You obeyed as you always did. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you heard a knock on the hotel door that scared you half to death. Maybe it was your father coming back to finish what he started. 

“Hey, it’s Dan. Can you let me in or are you…” Daniel’s voice trailed off into hopelessness. He didn’t want to imagine to you were so hurt you couldn’t even answer the door. 

Groaning loudly, holding your side trying to support every weary step you took towards the door, finally you managed to turn the handle enough where Daniel could just push it open. You stumbled backwards as you had to find somewhere to lean up against. 

Daniel’s brown eyes were immediately scanning every inch of your body, trying to decode your physical state. You were keeled over the tiny kitchen counter provided. Your shoulders rose and fell far too slowly for anybody’s liking. He saw how swollen and red your cheek had become and there was an emotion begin to bubble in his stomach and protrude through his chest that he rarely ever felt. His kind hand reached out to rub your back, being so careful that he didn’t hurt you. Daniel helped you over to the couch and sat you down. He didn’t dare say words but he knew you would tell him when you were ready. 

“He found me at the track… Took my keys and made me tell him where my hotel was…” 

Daniel nodded cautiously along, his eyes painstakingly wide as he did his best to take in the information. 

“I didn’t have a choice… I didn’t want… Fuck…” 

“Hey, it’s… Take your time.” Daniel wanted to say that it was okay, but clearly… it was definitely not. You took another deep breath. 

“He just came out of nowhere and grabbed me by my hair, and started yelling at me…. Then slapped me or something… And i fell to the ground…” 

Daniel gulped in absolute horror as he did his best to try and keep composure, clenching his jaw so hard he thought he might break a tooth. 

“He kicked me in my ribs and in my right leg… I think… I can’t even… Remember…. Then he threw my phone at my feet and left…” 

The Aussie boy next to you licked his lips in anxiety and you could see out of the corner of your eye how hard he was gripping the sofa beneath him. A familiar sight to you, as he white knuckled the cloth. Now, it was his turn to take a deep breath. 

“Listen, this not your fault and I don’t want you to ever think that it is, alright?” You nodded to his words, unable to make eye contact out of shame and guilt. “I’m going to get some ice, right? It’s just down the hallway. I’m going to take the room key so you can stay here with the door locked.” 

Daniel did one more visual pass over you as you slumped to the side of the couch. You were exhausted on all fronts. You knew though you couldn’t fall asleep, in case you had a concussion too. He left the room shortly and as he ventured down to where the ice machine was he was furiously dialing Mick. But to no avail, he wasn’t answering his phone. 

DannyRic to MickSchu: Mick!!! Mate!!! Pick up the phone or like, come to the hotel!! She’s in a bad way, mate. And fuck, there’s only so much I can do. 

DannyRic to MickSchu: I’m going to murder you mate, please pick up the phone! 

Daniel shot off a few more panicked texts after those before he reached the ice machine. He figured you wouldn’t want him texting any other person either. All he could do was wait. He filled the ice bucket and practically sprinted back to your hotel room. Opening the door with the key, he announced himself so as not to scare or startle. You lifted your head and watched him get a towel to wrap the ice in so it wouldn’t burn your skin. Your eyelids felt heavy and your body broken. 

If you died tonight, that would be better than anything to follow. 

Daniel stuck around for a few more hours, keeping you company as he made sure you got something to eat and drank water as best as you could. He tried to also convince you to tell Toto that you couldn’t race tomorrow in free practice… But that was immediately shut down by you. Daniel didn’t want to fight that battle when there were other matters to attend to. 

You could see that it was now dark out, and you had to go to sleep at some point. Sighing to yourself, you turned towards the very tired Aussie. 

“I need to shower, Dan… Could you maybe, help me get, in there?” 

The Australian’s brown eyes widened so much they encompassed his entire face. 

“I, uh… Yeah, I can, uh, do that for you.” Daniel stuttered out as he rose to his feet. 

Reaching out a hand towards you, he helped you up and over to the bathroom. He was going to kill Mick for not answering his phone. And Mick was going to kill Daniel for seeing you naked. But what other choices were there? The two of you made it into the bathroom and he motioned for you to sit on the toilet seat. 

“Can you raise your arms up at all? I don’t want to have to cut your shirt.” Daniel chuckled nervously. You only nodded with a smile, lifting your arms as far as you could. 

“Fuck… I forgot… Fuck…” You cowered in pain as you held your left side. “Okay, I can do it. Just, uh, if you need to stretch out the shirt to get it over my head. I don’t mind.” 

He complied with his famous smile and soon your shirt was off and to the side. He could see the forming bruise on your rib cage and couldn’t imagine how much pain you were in internally. He kept his thoughts to himself as he helped you step out of your jeans. Down to your underwear and bra, the tall Aussie just stood there. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You joked. throwing a wink at him. You might as well break the tension with a joke. “But, I really think I got it from here. Thank you so much, Dan.” You placed a kiss on his cheek and as he made his way out of the bathroom, he could hear you singing to yourself before the sound of the water escaping the shower head covered your voice. 

He once again took his phone out and finally saw that he had a lot of missed messages from Mick. 

(14) Missed Calls from: Mick Schumacher 

(29) Text Messages from: Mick Schumacher 

Daniel looked through all the texts as fast as he could, but the only watch catching his eye that his friend would be over soon… And that was… About twenty minutes ago… Which means… 

“Smidge! Smidge! Let me in, it’s Mick! Let me in, or I swear-“ 

Daniel opened the hotel door and immediately was greeted by a very distraught man. He let Mick in, and let Mick scour the hotel space like a bloodhound looking for a missing person. Mick stopped short of the shut bathroom door, as he could hear the water running. 

“What happed, Daniel? Fuck! I should’ve been here, fuck, fuck, fucking fuck!” Mick didn’t allow enough time for Daniel to answer before he was practically foaming at the mouth with rage. If it weren’t a hotel room - your hotel room, Daniel was 99% Mick would’ve started to punch the walls. 

“Mate, mate, calm down. I can’t talk to you when you’re like, all mad.” 

“She even asked me to come out to dinner tonight, and if I just had fucking said yes - God fucking dammit!” Mick didn’t know what to do with his body with the amount of pure, unadulterated fury riddled his body. “I’m so fucking stupid! Ich bin so ein Idiot (I’m such an idiot)!”

 

Mick continued to yell in German. Daniel could barely speak proper English, so he had no idea what he was saying. The rant was cut off though by the sound of the shower turning off in the distance. Mick took one deep breath and breathed out through his nose. 

“Thank you, Daniel… For being there for her.” 

Daniel put a supportive hand on his shoulder. Giving it a good squeeze, the two boys said goodbye to each other. Mick made Daniel promised not to tell a soul. And for the first time in his life, Daniel knew he was going to take this promise to the grave. 

Mick gained some more self control and pushed the bedroom door open slightly. Giving it a small knock, his voice immediately made you perk up where you were. 

“Kann ich den Raum betreten (Can I enter the room)?” 

Still wrapped in a towel, you slowly made your way to the ajar door. 

“Bist du anständig (Are you decent)?”

“No, but come in anyway, please.” 

Mick opened the door further and saw that you were sat on the edge of the bed. The towel hugged you tightly, but he noticed you were gripping it as if it were going to fly away from your body. He rushed to your side and took you into his arms. He could tell you had been crying despite the shower. He didn’t even notice the tiny bruise forming on your face before immersing you into his embrace. Shortly after some time spent in his arms, you peeled away and finally made eye contact. 

Mick’s hand went to your bruised cheek, his thumb just above hovering the swelled skin. Your dad had never hit you in your face before, he always was so careful. Mick couldn’t help but stifle back some tears, his previous selfishness clouding his racing thoughts. 

“I need help getting dressed for bed, Mick.” 

He knew what that meant. He knew exactly what that meant, in fact. But without another word, he kissed your forehead and got up to go over to your suitcase. He took out some underwear and a t shirt. Carefully, he helped you step into your underwear, looking away when you needed to adjust the elastic. The air caught in your chest again as you tried to calm yourself. Mick hummed comfortingly and allowed you to take all the time you needed. Your hand was shaking as you began to take off the towel. You didn’t care about him seeing your chest, no. He’s already seen it. You were not wanting him to see how bruised your torso was and how big of a bruise there was on your thigh. But you had to, and so you did. 

Mick couldn’t find the words. He looked down at your bruising body, his lips beginning to tremble. He was shaking his head unable to believe that because of his own stupidity, your body was again bruised and broken. 

He helped you put a short on and helped you climb into bed. You just wanted to sleep and dream about a better day tomorrow. Mick made sure you were comfortable before going to turn off all the lights and making sure the hotel door was locked and dead-bolted. He made his way back to you and crawled into the bed with you. Your body was too sore to move around much, so Mick just went where you needed him to be. Soon after you tucked underneath his arm, he could hear you steadily breathing, the warmth and security of his body making you for the first time today feel human again. 

“I’m so sorry, Schätzen. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t here…” Mick whispered into the air, not knowing if you were asleep or not. He knew he wasn’t going to get much sleep either. He wanted to stay awake as long as possible just in case your father decided to come back. 

“It’s fine, Mickey… Let’s just… Go to sleep…” Your voice was filled with fatigue as you began to doze off into unconsciousness. Mick pulled you closer into his body. 

The emotionally sapped German boy who you adored so much was laid there contemplating whether or not he deserved to be there beside you. If anything, Daniel would be the one that deserves this spot. He was there… He came when you called… He was everything Mick promised to be for you, but in failing to do so, Mick just stared at the ceiling frozen in regret. He could feel some tears falling down his face, wiping them quickly with his free hand. Mick took a deep breath once more and suddenly, his mind was made up. He had one goal in life now. He didn’t care about race car driving, or sponsorships… Hell, he didn’t even care about anything else at this point. Mick Schumacher vowed to himself that he would never allow anything else to happen to you from then on and out until the day he died. He knew it, you probably knew it even as you slept on his chest… There was one goal he had now. 

Mick Schumacher was going to find your father and make him pay. 

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TL;DR: This chapter depicts phases of reader's life as she navigates hiding the abuse she suffers from her best friend. He finds out and he vows to never allow her to be hurt again. There are emotional and romantic boundaries crossed in this chapter too, but nothing too explicit - Just the allusion to reader and Mick having sex. The last part is written for the current day. Reader's abusive father finds her after training and again physically abuses her. Daniel Ricciardo comes to her rescue as they both await Mick to arrive.

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https://www.helpguide.org/find-help

https://nomoredirectory.org/

https://victimconnect.org/resources/national-hotlines/

https://www.domesticshelters.org/resources/national-global-organizations/international-organizations

https://www.therapyroute.com/article/helplines-suicide-hotlines-and-crisis-lines-from-around-the-world

These are some helpful links I found while searching the internet. Please do not hesitate to reach out for help for yourself or anyone you may know is involved in a violent and abusive situation.

[moni-logues]

BDE

Pairing: Chan x gn.reader

Genre: pwp/smut but it's a little fluffy, established relationship

Summary: Chan tries to insist he has BDE when all he really has is a BD.

Word count: 2.1k

Content: Chan has a Big Dick, oral sex (m. receiving inc deep throat and choking), sexual activity in public toilets (but no one is around)

A/N: this started with, who else?, @minttangerines. I honestly don't even remember how the conversation started but then we were talking about a fic about Chan's Big Dick struggles lmao and this idea was born. That was weeks ago now and she finally wrote it. Thank you to Lia @quarter-life-crisis2 for reading this so late at night to reassure me it didn't suck balls.

*

“I don’t know about these, y’know...” 

“Well, I told you, didn’t I? You should have sized up!” 

“But I always get this size!” 

“And they’ve changed their sizing! I told you! And you didn’t listen so now you have to suffer.” 

You turned away from Chan and back to the mirror while he fussed, trying to adjust himself comfortably in his new boxer briefs that were, quite clearly, a little snug.  

“I don’t know if I can wear these,” Chan groaned, sitting heavily on the bed with his trousers unzipped.  

“You don’t own that suit; you cannot go commando. And I’m not letting you wear any of mine.” 

Chan groaned again, loudly aggrieved, and lay back on the bed.  

“Can’t believe I’m being hoisted by my own petard! Too much big dick energy!” he cried and you turned to deliver a withering look. 

“My darling, I am not sure you know what any of those words mean. You do not have BDE.” 

He was back upright in a flash. 

“What?! How can you say that?! We are literally having a conversation about how I don’t fit in my fucking pants right now.” 

“Having a big dick is not the same as having big dick energy?” You did not, before this moment, realise that your boyfriend was quite this stupid. It gave you second thoughts about the entire relationship.  

“It’s in the name? BIG DICK energy.” 

You gestured wildly, looking around the room as if there were anyone else there who could back you up. 

“Big Dick Energy. You might have a big dick-” 

“-I do, thank you ver-” 

“YES, fine! You do have a big dick, but that is not all that’s required. And I will neither accept nor tolerate your saying that it is.” 

“Putting me down in my time of strife. What a loveless relationship we have.” 

You give him an exaggerated wink and turned back to the mirror once more to apply your lipstick. 

* 

With no solution to his problem, Chan had no choice but to zip himself up, make himself presentable, and pray to the gods that the circulation to his dick wouldn’t get cut off. There are some losses no mere mortal could survive. 

“Stop fidgeting!” you hissed to him as he squirmed on the red carpet next to you.  

It was bright and overwhelming and you were reminded why you so infrequently accompanied him to these events. This time, though, he had been nominated for an award so you wouldn’t have dreamt of missing it. The camera flashes made your eyes hurt and the cacophony of paparazzi calls blurred into a singular, uninterpretable noise; it was like entering a completely inhuman world, where you were devoid of your usual senses, disoriented, out of place, and, were it not for Chan, completely untethered.  

This time, you were also distracted by his wriggling. 

“I can’t help it!” he hissed back. “I’m losing circulation down there, I swear!” 

“You’ll lose more than that if you keep touching your fucking dick on a red carpet!” 

He huffed but duly held still for the rest of the photos, shooting off into the toilets as soon as you got into the building.  

* 

He was uncomfortable. He could barely keep his hands away from his crotch. You noticed. You were sure other people also noticed. You were not sure that this was in any way good. You slipped one hand into his and pulled it into your lap. That didn’t stop him. The night was going to be long – already had been long and had so far left to go. You felt as though you were going to have to take things into your own hands. 

Not literally. 

Maybe literally. 

You leant over, your mouth close to his ear. 

“If you can leave yourself alone until the ceremony is over, I’ll make it worth your while,” you whispered, letting your lips just barely touch the hinge of his jaw before sitting back in your seat.  

He didn’t turn to look at you but you saw his Adam’s apple bob and he squeezed your hand tight. His free hand moved to the arm of the seat and stayed there.  

* 

“This counts, right?” he was asking before you were even out of the door. “It’s over?”  

He was pushing you gently, steering you into the nearest dark corner, and then pressing against you, his hands at your waist, his nose in your hair.  

“Have your boxers cut off the circulation to your brain, Chan?” You pushed him, a little less gently, backwards. “We are still in public! You really want me to suck you off right here?” You were whispering, eyes flicking beyond Chan’s head as more and more people filed out of the auditorium on their way to bars, after parties, bathrooms. 

“Honestly?” he asked, eyebrows raised, saying ‘yes’ without actually saying it.  

“I am not breaking public indecency laws for you.” 

“I’d do it for you!” 

“Oh, you’d go down on me here, would you?” 

He was genuinely lowering to his knees before you had finished the sentence and you scrambled to haul him to his feet, your face burning hot with embarrassment. 

“You’re incorrigible!”  

“No, baby, I am fucking desperate. Desperate to get these piece of shit boxers off me and your mouth on me.” 

You had promised him. So you wandered, as inconspicuously as possible, around to the other side of the building, to find some toilets that weren’t so busy. Rather, you were hoping for some that were empty.  

And you were in luck.  

“Shit, it’s my lucky night!” Chan whispered as you pushed open the last stall door, confirming that they were all empty.  

“Honey, you didn’t win the award and your underwear is slowly strangling your dick. What about that is lucky?” 

“First of all, rude. Second of all, in about one minute, I won’t even be able to remember my own name, let alone all that other stuff. Stop using your mouth to be smart and let me choke you.” 

You rolled your eyes and sank to your knees as he eliminated the space between you. He hesitated as he unzipped, then rolled his own eyes, stooping to kick off his shoes, take off his trousers and stretch, roll, and pull the offending underwear off, muttering all the while about how stupid they were and how much he hated them and the strongly worded email he’d be writing. Then he stood, naked from the waist down.  

“Oh yeah, you’re all BDE now. Y’know, Winnie the Pooh, he really fucks.”  

When Chan looked at you, you expected him to laugh or smirk or hell, roll his eyes back at you, but he didn’t. He just looked down with that dark intensity in his face, the one that said he wasn’t going to take it easy on you. He gestured with two fingers for you to come closer and you shuffled awkwardly on your knees. Then he traced your face with a featherlight touch. You reached your own hand up and used the same lightness as you ran your finger down his length.  

As his fingertips reached your jaw, he held you, his fingers starting to press, harder and harder as you opened your mouth wider. He ran a thumb over your bottom lip as he sank his teeth into his own. You stuck your tongue out to lick at his thumb as it passed and he nodded at you.  

He held you like that, mouth open, tongue out, looking up at him, as he took himself in his free hand, stiffening quickly, pumping slowly. He made you wait until the pre-cum was dripping from his head, until he was quietly huffing little satisfied groans, until you were shifting uncomfortably on your knees, your legs going numb, your stomach tightening with anticipation, your mouth watering—saliva flooding, making a mess of your clothes when you hadn’t even had a taste of him yet. You knew better than to ask, better than to protest. He’d only make you wait longer. Even though it was him who wanted this, who was ‘desperate’ for it, you knew he wouldn’t hesitate to make this a punishment for you.  

When you thought you would fall over, pass out, fling your hands into the air and grab hold of him, he nudged his hips forward, only the very tip of his dick touching your tongue. You lunged forward, wrapping your lips around him, expecting him to move backwards, to tease some more, to make you show him how patient you could be. 

He didn’t. He really was desperate. He let you take him to the hilt, eyes springing with tears when he hit your throat, those tears making tracks down your cheeks as you swallowed him, as you pushed until your nose hit his skin. 

“That’s right,” he sighed, his head tipping back, his fingers winding in your hair. “You fucking know- shit, you know how to do that right.”  

You did. When you first got together, he had very shyly confessed to you that he’d never come from a blowjob before, because people were intimidated by his size, because he was self-conscious of it, all too aware that it was too much for most. He never felt like he could ask for what he wanted, how he liked it, didn’t want to demand or pressure or make his partners feel uncomfortable. So he’d just  sucked it up and, eventually, gone without. It was ok, he had said with a light shrug; he didn’t really mind; he knew it was a lot. He had said many things that he had convinced himself were true. That he didn’t matter. Not really. That his partners shouldn’t try to make him feel good, that they shouldn’t work together to make all parts of sex a mutually enjoyable experience.  

But you weren’t easily intimidated. You were quickly and easily infatuated and then in love with a man so sweet, he spiked your blood sugar; a man so smart, he raised your IQ; a man so hot, he was targeted by climate change activists. And you were determined to show him what he had been missing. Determined to show him what he was worth. Determined to show him that no big dick was going to get in the way of you getting him all the way off, using just your mouth.  

He whimpered, the pitch of his voice tremulously high now, his dick leaping in your mouth so you gagged, choked a little, made him really feel the tight squeeze of your throat. He was whispering under his breath, swearing quickly, calling to god (as if he could help, as if he could do anything you couldn’t), breathing your name in a way that made you physically ache for him to fill you.  

You had this down to an art. You knew his every twitch and every hitch in his breath, could time, down to the second, when he was about to finish. Still bobbing up and down, drooling along his rigid length, you took his balls in one hand and squeezed, slowly and evenly, pressing and rubbing on his taint with the other. You felt the full-body shudder go through him and the gasp which always accompanied his release. You took it all, every drop, every time. 

Chan stood, his hands fallen from your hair, limp at his sides, his eyes closed, mouth open, breathing gradually evening out. You sat back and watched him. 

“I can’t believe I have to put those fucking boxers back on,” he said when his feet touched back down to earth.  

You laughed.  

“Don’t make me say ‘I told you so’ again.” 

You stumbled as you rose to your feet, your legs fizzing back to life and making you unsteady. Chan held you securely. 

“You know I like you a lot more with my dick in your mouth?” 

But he was smiling, dreamy-eyed, putting his warm, solid hands on your waist and pulling you in for a kiss. It was more than you had expected: not a peck, his lips firm against yours, opening slightly, the pressure as he sucked at your bottom lip making your knees go weak again. You smiled at him when he pulled back, dazed, a haze of love and lust swirling around you. 

You hummed lightly. 

“Well, if you’re a really good boy for the rest of the night, I’ll put it back there when we get home.” 

He grinned, smirked actually, and gave you another quick kiss. 

“Can’t resist my big dick energy, right?” 

Your face fell as his lifted into a shit-eating grin. You walked away, out of the toilets, leaving him scrambling to re-dress himself and come after you.  

[glisten-inthedark]

The scene where Mike clamps his hands over his ears while Will is screaming “Let me go!” as Joyce sedates him is so painfully relatable to me, I did something similar when my dog had a seizure a while back (he’s okay now) and my dad was taking care of him through it. and in that instance, there wasn’t even any noise—I was just so panicked and scared that blocking my ears felt weirdly safe

and there’s just something so visceral about it, the way Mike was the one firmly insisting Will be sedated because he realized he was a spy, but throughout the actual sedation he is clearly so distressed as he watches, distressed to the point of (seemingly) overstimulation

Mike just……gosh why does the GA slack on how much Mike goes through in season 2 to be with Will? Like I think when I first watched the show I didn’t even CONSIDER this, it almost felt like I expected it of Mike considering how loyalty and dedicated he is in season 2, it felt like an “well of course Mike is here” not a “MIKE DAMNIT GO HOME IT’S NOT SAFE HERE” thing at all.

Now I want to read a fanfiction where Mike gets nightmares about the lab demodog attack because that whole event is nightmarish and would be so traumatizing, especially the anxiety and dread of feeling trapped, seeing how many people are dead, and not knowing if you’re going to be able to escape

and on the topic of Mike going through shit in the lab—I’m rewatching his scenes in the last 2 episodes of season 2—the way Max brings up El and Mike gets hostile again is consistent with his attitude earlier in the season, but what is new and what I didn’t even remember him saying was, “Yeah, she was [awesome]. Until that thing took her. Just like it took Bob.”Which is another tack on the “oh Mike please get some therapy” corkboardBut also, it’s the first time we see Mike speak about El in season 2 as if she’s actually dead. Not just gone. “Just like it took Bob,” if it’s “just like” then that means dead.Idk why I found that interesting

Ok so I assumed these were sent by the same person and I hope I was right lmao.

But yeah, Mike has been through so much throughout the show and I feel it barely gets acknowledged at all.

This boy went through so much and it barely gets talked about. People talk about El's trauma, or Will's- and those are all valid and real -, but is no wonder Mike has latched itself to El for so long, she makes him safe and by extension he believes that if shit goes down she can keep Will safe too, which Mike thinks he can't do.

Is not just that Mike wants to be needed, is that be also feels powerless to stop things from happening because he's not a superhero like El is. The whole crux of Mike isn't just his need for being needed, is why does he feel like that. Because is the only aspect in which he assumes anyone would need him, because he doesn't think he can do anything else.

I just wished people were kinder towards Mike because even some Byler shippers can be particularly harsh towards him which like, if you don't like him why are you shipping him with Will, you know?

[niki-phoria]

Hello there! If its okay can you do gn neutral reader x Chishiya,so the scenario is Chishiya seeing his campus crush on borderland and they are the new excutive member who is sarcastic, kind but mean as a joke and pretty intelligent and THEY ARE REALLY REALLY ATTRACTIVE.I hope it's not much if you do it, it will be a another motivation for me to shift tysm!

xiao's love of doctor chishiya gifs returns

pairing: chishiya x gn!beach executive!reader (they/them pronouns) genre: fluff, comfort (??) word count: 1.7k

warnings: kinda ooc chishiya, reader gets shot with an arrow (non descriptive), mentions of blood, implication of stitches, the person helping reader is supposed to be tatta but i couldn't figure out to bring it up (my boy deserves better), niragi, poor depiction of the beach executive scene, niragi, i am a niragi hater and a dori lover until the day i die, tumblr glitched and the original post i wrote for this didn't save and it scared the shit out of me lmao

a/n: thank you for requesting !! i couldn't really figure out how to add reader being chishiya's campus crush so it just starts with them knowing each other lmao. thank you for being so descriptive with reader's personality that's super helpful i hope you like it :))

additional note: i'm almost at 500 followers (HUGE thank you btw that's crazy) and i was thinking of doing an event thing ?? but i'm not sure if anyone would be interested so lmk ig lmao

requests are open !! read my rules first

“y/n?” you perk up at the familiar voice, quick to leave your conversation with ann and mira. 

“chishiya!” he stands with his hands stuffed into the pockets of a white jacket. he’s wearing a pair of swim trunks and sandals. you can barely see his wristband from where the sleeve of his jacket ends. “i can never get rid of you, can i?” you tease.

“i suppose not.” chishiya leans back against the wall, a little uncomfortable at the stares of the other beach members in the room. 

sensing his discomfort, you glance over your shoulder at them. “ah, i should give you a tour. have you picked a room yet?” 

“i was hoping you could help with that.” 

you tug chishiya along with you, guiding him through the different areas of the beach. 

your shoulders brush against each other as you sit by the pool, dunking your legs in the cold water. “how long have you been here?” you ask. 

“just a few days,” chishiya replies. “i’m still not entirely sure what’s going on.” 

you glance behind you over your shoulder, dropping your voice to a whisper. “you know about the visas and the cards?” he nods, subtly leaning in a little closer. “hatter thinks we’ll be able to send someone back to the normal world once we collect all of the cards.”

“you don’t think so?” 

you sigh. “i’m not sure. we only have a few cards right now, but something tells me it won’t be that easy.” despite the pool being completely empty, you lean in even closer to chishiya to whisper in his ear. “i don’t think we can trust the people here.” chishiya shivers. your breath is warm against his neck. he can feel his ears burn slightly when you pull away. 

an unfamiliar feeling settles itself in his stomach. fear? dread? anxiety? you kick small ripplies into the water, slowly reaching over to hold his hand. despite all of the unknowns he’s sure you’ll be forced to confront, chishiya finds comfort in the feeling of your hand in his. 

chishiya paces along the outside of the beach, continuously looking out at the horizon. “waiting for someone?” kuina asks, leaning back against the wall of the hotel. chishiya sighs, knowing her question is rhetorical. 

“y/n’s not back yet.” 

kuina pushes off of the wall, suddenly serious. “they’re not?” he shakes his head, looking out into the darkness again. “well, do you know who they were with during their last game? maybe someone knows something.” 

“i haven’t seen anyone since i came back.” 

“what about the other executives? have you told them?” chishiya doesn’t answer. “there has to be something we can do, right? what about-” 

“hey!” in the distance they can barely see a man struggling to pull someone towards the beach. “help me! i need help!” 

kuina is quick to react, rushing over to the man. chishiya watches her as she runs to meet him, gasping. “chishiya!” she yells. “it’s y/n!” 

he can almost feel the blood in his body go cold. kuina shoves herself underneath your other arm, helping the man pull you to the beach. it feels like the world has stopped - everything frozen at this moment in time. 

after what feels like forever chishiya manages to will his body to move, rushing to you. blood coats your side and jacket, seeping through your shirt. he presses a hand against your wound, supporting your weight. 

“what happened?” he hopes his voice isn’t shaking. 

“they had crossbows,” the man pants. “i had to pull it out but i think it went straight through. i didn’t know what else to do.” 

“chishiya,” you whimper, clutching his body. 

“it’s okay,” he whispers. “it’s gonna be okay.” 

you grunt as he wraps an arm around your waist, lifting your body into his arms. you cling to his body, letting him carry you into the beach’s basement. he gently sets you on a metal table before frantically searching through the room for medical supplies. kuina leans over you, pressing a towel against your side. you wince at the pressure, tears stinging your eyes. 

“sorry,” she whispers. “i’m sorry.” 

chishiya takes over for her soon after, moving the towel to the side. “this is gonna hurt,” he warns. you grab his hand, squeezing it. 

“i trust you.” 

the pain is sharp and sudden. it feels like someone is pressing on your chest, preventing any air from entering your lungs. the ceiling above you blurs into a mix of blue lighting and gray metal before it all goes black and the world disappears. 

the pain has subsided greatly when you wake up. your vision is blurry as you blink a few times, trying to clear your vision. sunlight shines through open curtains, illuminating the hotel room you lay in. it’s clean - cleaner than your room. the sheets feel nice against your skin. 

you grunt, forcing yourself to sit up. your body aches as you lean back against the headboard. the door opens quietly before it closes. a man sighs before he enters. “chishiya?” your voice is raspy when you try to speak. your throat stings. 

“y/n,” chishiya rushes to your side, opening a bottle of water and handing it to you. you gulp it down quickly, desperate for any liquid. “how are you feeling?” 

“sore.” 

chishiya takes the empty bottle, sitting down next to you. he reaches out to grab your hand, running his thumb along your knuckles. his voice is quiet when he speaks again. “you really scared me, you know.” 

“about me dying? come on, you can’t get rid of me that easily.” you squeeze his hand. “chishiya,” you whisper. he looks down at you. “i’m okay. you saved me.” 

“i know, i just…” he sighs, staring back down at your hands. you intertwine your fingers together, a silent way of encouraging him to continue. “i can’t lose you. you were back late, and then when you make it here you were hurt. and then you passed out and…” chishiya takes a deep breath, tension from his shoulders relaxing a little. “i don’t want to see you hurt. i love you.” 

“‘shiya,” you bring a hand up to his face, wiping away a stray tear he hadn’t realized had fallen. you lift his chin, forcing him to look at you. “i know everything will be okay as long as i have you. i love you too.” 

chishiya gives you a small smile, pulling your hand up to press a kiss against your knuckles. “don’t ever do this to me again.” 

you chuckle. “i won’t. i promise.” 

you pull the chair out between chishiya and niragi, taking your seat at the executives table. arisu stands uncomfortably at the other side of the room, watching you. chishiya raises his hand, waving at him. you playfully elbow his side. “he’s nervous, leave him alone.” 

“i’m just waving,” he retorts. 

“you looked just like him when you got here,” you tease. “give him a break.” 

mira, ann, and kuzuryu sit across from you. on your right, next to niragi, aguni sits at the edge, right next to hatter. 

“we are here to discuss the potential promotion of our very own, arisu!” hatter enthusiastically introduces, pointing over at the man. arisu shifts uncomfortably at the attention. 

niragi scoffs. “are we really trusting him to be an executive?” 

“we’re trusting you to be an executive.” niragi glares at you, reaching for his rifle before ann interrupts. 

“he was able to win a seven of hearts. we haven’t seen that card before.” 

“it’s a seven of hearts,” mira exaggerates. “if arisu was able to win the game, then, we should be able to send someone back to the normal world soon.” 

“she’s right,” kuzuryu says, leaning back in his chair. “heart games are the most difficult.” 

“i vote for promoting him.” you say. under the table, chishiya reaches over to grab your hand. “he won a heart game we’ve never seen before. people have been promoted for less.” 

“why don’t we test him? send him into a game with an executive and see how he operates under the pressure.” ann suggests. hatter points at her, tutting. 

“now that’s a good idea. any objections?” after a few seconds of silence, hatter stands. “perfect! this meeting has been concluded.” 

chishiya’s hand remains in yours as you leave the room, slinking through the various corridors of the hotel you’ve found to a private area. “what are you thinking about arisu?” he asks. 

“he won a heart game and you said he was good in tag. he could be a useful ally.” he hums in agreement. 

the fire burns around you as you re-enter the remains of the hotel you used to call your home. a man stands in the center of what used to be the lobby, hands stuffed in his pockets. 

“chishiya?” you call, avoiding the heat as you step closer. he glances over his shoulder at you, picking something up off of the table. you lean over to see what he’s holding. it’s a card. the ten of hearts. 

“you were right, you know,” he says, throwing the card back onto the table. he smiles when you cock your head at him in confusion. “when i first arrived, one of the first things you said to me was that i shouldn’t trust the people here. you were right.” chishiya steps closer, intertwining his hands with yours. “i’m starting to think collecting the cards was pointless after all.” 

the flames around you only grow stronger. “as much as i’d like to bask in your praise, we really need to leave,” you say, reaching over to grab his arm. “let’s go. kuina’s waiting.” he hums, pressing a kiss against your temple as he follows you out.

[karamazovposting]

On Ivan and bipolar disorder (part one)

I've never seen anyone talk about this and it doesn't surprise me considering most people don't really know what bipolar disorder actually is (the stereotypes are all wrong and good representation in media is rare, sigh) and while I'm not saying my interpretation is the only correct one as I'm a firm believer that anyone can see whatever they want in art and that's a beautiful thing, in my opinion there are enough things about Ivan's behaviour and character that make my bipolar Ivan Karamazov agenda worthy of being pushed a little.

This first part will be more of an introduction where I'll just talk, in general, about what I picked up on in the first half of the novel and then in the next parts (I don't know how many there'll be yet, there's a lot of stuff to say) I'll get more specific by going over Ivan's inner world and the more significant events that made me think yeah this young man definitely needs some lithium.

Let's start with this: I know every Dostoevsky character is fucked up in their own way, that's pretty much his thing, but there is a difference between being a little fucked up and being actually mentally ill. There's just something about Ivan that made something in my brain click and go bipolar, which has never really happened before.

Do I think Dostoevsky deliberately chose to make Ivan so bipolar coded? Considering at the time there was barely a name for this disorder (which isn't even the same name we use today), let alone an actual diagnosis, no. But as someone who is diagnosed with bipolar disorder, I think his character makes a lot more sense if we see him as suffering from it. I even talked about this to my therapist who has read the book and he sees my vision too (lmao).

The thing that I'm sure jumps to someone's mind when it comes to Ivan and the topic of mental illness is the psychotic episode he goes through after Fyodor's murder, and while it kind of sustains my thesis on its own already, I thought he was bipolar coded way before that, because in my opinion there are a lot of subtle signs and behaviours that are kind of like little puzzle pieces that need to be put together to get to see the bigger picture, as bipolar disorder is not just the episodes someone goes through but also the impact those episodes have on them. It's a disorder that shapes the person, their brain chemistry and patterns and therefore their life in an irreversible way.

What initially struck me was how angry Ivan actually is. We don't really see it at first solely because we don't really see much of him in general, but I think that after he pushes Maksimov off the carriage without saying a word or explaining himself to his father we open some sort of Pandora's box. After that, almost every time he appears in the first half of the novel, he's angry. At the top of my head I can only think of two instances where he's not: when talking to Katerina before leaving for Moscow, which is also the first time we see him show an emotion other than anger (and it only took him, what? More than 300 pages? Yeah, relatable), and when he's at lunch with Alyosha shortly after. Other than that, he's always angry, and it's so visceral that I couldn't help but think that he feels that particular kind of deep rage only someone with bipolar disorder is capable of feeling (I personally nicknamed bipolar disorder the always fucking angry disorder). The way he's so deeply and irrationally angry that he feels himself shake and has to collect himself in order to not beat up Smerdyakov? The way he can't let it go and engages in conversation with him even though he himself doesn't even know why he's feeling or doing any of that? The way he treats his father? That's undiagnosed/untreated behaviour, I've been there. It may feel weird or even absurd if you're not familiar with this disorder, but there's a reason why the term bipolar rage is a thing: it is indeed on another level. It also seems like the only emotion he's comfortable with showing is anger and that's why it seems to be his only emotional outlet, as he didn't seem that eager to open up in front of Katerina and even when alone with his own brother you can feel some sort of awkwardness coming from him. I'll go into the specifics of that particular interaction with Alyosha in the future, but I think that after that Ivan's, very emotion-centered, character arc officially starts to develop as his relationship with his own feelings finally and slowly starts to change and becomes a tool to get him closer to the other characters. It's obviously not linear and I really like that, it feels very realistic.

Anyway, at first I thought I was just projecting, lots of people have anger issues and showing one symptom of something doesn't mean you have it, diagnostic criterias exist for a reason. The thing is, the more I read the more I noticed that not only Ivan happens to meet a lot of them, but he also shows some behaviors and has some personality traits that can easily be interpreted as bipolar coded (as I said a few paragraphs ago): his complex and peculiar type of loneliness, the emotional outbursts, his own perception of himself compared to how the other characters speak of him, his traumatic childhood, his attitude towards life (and death), the reasons behind his relationship with God and religion, his curated persona, the fact that no one seems to understand him. Not to mention he's described as having experienced depression and anguish multiple times in the past, and in a particular occasion in the novel not even knowing why (this one point in particular is very important as it connects to his attitude towards life and death, which is the most bipolar coded thing about him to me). All things I'll go over with more detail in the future when I'll get to his inner world.

For now I'll say that the main thing about bipolar disorder is that it fucks up one's emotions a lot, causing "inappropriate" or "abnormal" (for a lack of better terms) and exaggerated emotional responses and reactions in the people who have it (which usually manifest as the epic highs and lows the average person has at least heard of, but it can and does get more complicated than that) and I genuinely don't think Ivan reacts normally to anything, ever; the most noticeable thing to me is that his default reaction to anything, no matter what it is, is laughter. We also see him get extremely anxious to the point of being physically unwell and spiral a little after Smerdyakov and Fyodor tell him to go to Cermašnja due to what the former told him, which made me go damn, no one died yet and he's already paranoid?. His emotional regulation is a mess and he's so real (and bipolar) for that.

Another quite important thing about bipolar disorder is that it makes every emotion more intense to the point of confusion and being all over the place, which causes a person with bipolar disorder's emotional responses and reactions to be the way they are. Now, I'm not proclaiming myself as the one and only True Ivan Karamazov Understander, but I do think people tend to focus too much on his façade of coldness and on the darker side of his story, causing them to forget about how actually fun, passionate and almost childish he is at times. Ivan feels, and he feels deeply, and it isn't fair to overlook that just because he rarely shows it. Extreme rationality and collectedness can often also be a way to try to gain control over your symptoms (I'm guilty of that). We get to see some of his less collected emotionality in how dramatic he gets (like a true Karamazov) when reciting poetry in German to Katerina and in The brothers get acquainted, Rebellion and The Grand Inquisitor, as I already mentioned. At this point of the novel, something in particular happens and at this point in the novel I decide that yes, Ivan is bipolar coded.

I think I'll stop here at this sort of "cliffhanger" because this got quite long and I need one post only to elaborate that last paragraph. This isn't as coherent as I hoped it would be and, honestly, I kind of feel stupid, like I read too much into this and am seeing things that aren't there (how familiar, how fitting), but I wanted to share my perspective (and I'm also open to discussion!). Also, I won't lie, Ivan is my favorite character of The Brothers Karamazov and I don't think he's talked about enough, I've even seen people say he's the least interesting one out of the brothers which kind of broke my heart because I personally think he's the most interesting (no shade to the uninteresting Ivan gang of course). I don't know if I feel like that towards him because for the first time ever I got to see myself in a character and it was very important to me, but I don't think it really matters, "meeting" him made me happy and he will always be special to me, even if his story has its fair share of tragedy. Or maybe because of it. I'm planning on making a post about that and his ending in particular, but for now I'll focus on finishing this bipolar Ivan Karamazov essay.

No idea when I'll write the rest though, but I will.

[cuephrase]

as someone who knows nothing about dc/batfam besides bare basics where do I even start with the comics? please send help its so confusing and sm to go through 😭🧎‍♀️

help has arrived!! my sincerest apologies for the delay, i started writing and somehow 2.5 days had passed.

full transparency, for a second i was like, "oh idk if i'm the best person to ask, i haven't been reading comics for years" and then i realized i figured my way into comics with like essentially zero prior experience so maybe i am uniquely qualified to help! that being said, if this doesn't work or you see a post from a comic veteran that looks more helpful, by all means ignore me.

first things first- it is super confusing!! there's all these big events, DC is obsessed with the word "Crisis", some labels are mainline and others aren't- don't worry about any of that. ignore the vast forest that is Comics and focus on one tree.

and by that i mean, pick one character to start with.

this post ended up turning into a behemoth when i wasn't looking so everything else is going to go under the cut!

alright, now that you have your character of choice, it's time to choose which era of comics you want to start in. there are basically 4 different eras, and you may have heard their names tossed around.

PRE-CRISIS: this is where Comics begin. this era covers comics from when they began being published up until 1985. most of this is no longer canon, but like when they hit the reboot button in '85, they didn't restart from the very beginning. so like, 90% of robin!dick comics is Pre-Crisis. some comics kept a few Pre-Crisis storylines canon, like The New Teen Titans starts before the reboot, but the pre-boot storylines are still canon. i personally have not read very many Pre-Crisis comics, i cherry-picked what looked interesting to me. unless you want to like dive in chronologically and begin at the Beginning, i wouldn't recommend hopping in here bc you'll probably get super fatigued, but yk, it is ultimately up to you. most important takeaway here is that whenever people mention Pre-Crisis, they mean old comics.

POST-CRISIS: 1985-2011. this is where most comics veterans started reading comics/what they grew up with. these are the comics that a decent amount of current comics writers/artists grew up reading/what got them into comics. there is a lot of love + nostalgia for this era, with good reason!! i do think some people who favor this era have a tendency to be close-minded in regards to current comics but re:nostalgia and there have been some dumb decisions so i get it!

NEW 52: aka, Post-Flashpoint, N52. 2011-2016 dc gets new management. they more or less decided to toss all pre-existing canon out the window and re-start in the middle. honestly, it was like they just started making fanfiction. and i don't mean that negatively, i mean like, even though they "restarted" and "anyone" should be able to jump in on an #1 in n52...the comics still assumed you had some working knowledge about the characters. which. i mean, i understand that a total restart was not plausible, (lmao imagine just snapping the vast majority of characters out of existence. they did snap some but like, a full restart would have axed even Dick technically.) i started reading comics here bc when i asked my brother-in-law (who grew up reading comics, with a dad who grew up reading comics), he was like, "omg!! start here, it'll be perfect!!" and i was like "okay!!" and then...i found myself googling. a lot. which is fine!! but idk maybe not as beginner-friendly as advertised? also, notice how this era only lasts for 4 years. it's not that none of it is relevant now, but it was a) not very well received, and b) while some of it is def still canon/referenced, a lot of it contradicts with Post-Crisis, and our fourth and final era reboots so that most of Post-Crisis is canon again. you will see a lot of hatred/dislike for comics in this era/concepts introduced here.

REBIRTH: 2016-present day. DC decided to rollback their extreme changes and soft-reboot to basically try and meld Post-Crisis and N52 timelines/continuities into one cohesive continuity. which. is a lil like trying to mix oil and water, but it is an improvement imo. all the runs restart at #1.

other people might disagree with me, but i honestly don't think it matters which era you start with. unless you start from the very beginning, you're going to have some questions. if you start in Post-Crisis, you're going to have questions when you get to N52/Rebirth, and vice-versa. and that's okay!! don't be ever be embarrased/discouraged because you have a question. google is your friend. also, odds are, if you end up enjoying comics, you'll read from all the eras. timelines will always be confusing. if you read arcs/events out of order, you'll sort stuff out. as long as you're reading what sounds interesting, you can't really go wrong. you might laugh at your decisions later, but that's okay!!

for example, personal experience, this was my intro reading order: N52 Nightwing, A Death in the Family (Post-Crisis), Under the Red Hood (Post-Crisis), Joker War (Rebirth), Robin 1994 (Post-Crisis) until like issue #11?, Rebirth Nightwing to most current release, back to Robin 1994.

clearly, I had no clue what the hell i was doing from one perspective. but in the moment, i was having a grand ole time. i read N52 Nightwing, had my mind blown at the existence of FOUR Robins, couldn't believe they KILLED one, had to see that for myself, then i had to see how his return played out, and when I was buying the UTRH trade the Joker War trade had a lil rec note from an employee, i flipped through it, thought the art was sick, was confused AF when i read it but googled for some clarity and just rolled it with it, thought Tim was neat, decided to check him out, had a rough time adjusting to the older art style, bounced back to modern comics with Dick, and then ultimately decided I could handle the art change (which, ngl, very useful skill for comics reading) and the rest is history.

even once i got more well-versed in comics, sometimes i knowingly read out of order because i just wanted to see a specific event and didn't feel like reading a ton of comics to get there. legit, read City of Bane, did not understand why Dick was not there but just accepted it and then months later was like OH!! HE WAS RIC THEN.

point is, if you're having fun, you're not making mistakes imo. am i going to recommend anyone follow my initial reading path to the T? no way!! but it worked for me.

but okay! so now, you've got your character and your era, and surprisingly the rest is really simple!! i have compiled a list for you that attempts to cover the trickier batfam entry points, but for almost any character the hopping on point is literally whichever run they're lead in: #1. for some, as you'll see with Batman, it won't be #1 in Post-Crisis but you can google, "where to start reading Action Comics Post-Crisis" and there you go. If there is a #0 issue, I would personally not recommend starting there, I would still start with #1 and then read the #0 issue when it would've come out, so like if it came out after #10, read it then. oh also, i'm sorry, i cannot offer personalized help with Barbara Gordon/Babs/Batgirl No. 1/Oracle, as of rn, i have only read her when she shows up in events/other people's runs. my best guess would be Batgirl/Bird of Prey.

now, before we get to the lists, may i present you with

MISCELLANEOUS ADVICE

there are a handful of mindsets that i think will be super helpful for breaking into comics, but the most important, especially starting out, is to make sure you're reading what interests you and that you're having fun. you can worry about slogging through significant runs later, once you've cut your teeth a bit, or never.

i would honestly ignore "best of/top rec" lists. most of those are made up of comics that hit bc they're building on a foundation. if you're brand-new, you don't have a foundation. focus on that first, rather than reading the "right" runs. comic readers, veterans and casuals and newbies- they do not all agree on what the "right" runs are. and that's bc there are so many different writers/artists. bookmark these for later, when you feel more solid in your understanding of the character and maybe want to experiment.

characters, imo, can totally be written OOC. but one of the really beautiful things about comics in my experience is that getting to see characters written by different writers really adds so much depth and dimension to them, bc diff writers are going to have different angles they want to explore. will you like all these different angles? probably not! but that's okay. you'll develop your own taste for which stories you like/what takes resonate with you the most. sometimes you might find yourself in agreement with the popular opinion, other times you might find that you loved something it seems a lot of people hate. great! there is no test, you'll like what you like and that will be perfectly valid even if no else agrees.

with that in mind, be open-minded. adjusting to older art styles can be really hard! that's totally valid! but if you try it out here and there, you'll probably be able to get used to it. you're not always going to love the art in any era. sometimes not even in the same run. i think acknowledging that you dislike it is better than trying to force yourself to like it. my rule of thumb was, if i didn't like the art style, give it 3 comics. bc by then, i'd either adjust to it (which is not the same as liking it)/or get sucked into the story and not care so much, or i would know, yeah this really isn't working for me. and then i had a decision to make: power through or drop it. sometimes you can knuckle down. other times, i've found that giving myself a break and returning to a difficult comic once i've recharged is better.

mostly the same advice for writers. although, i have learned that just because i dislike an author in X run, doesn't mean i'll dislike them in Y run, or even in the next arc they write in X run. as you go through comics, keep in mind that most storylines within a run are six issue arcs. if you're not vibing with the current arc, try skipping ahead to the next one. skimming is okay. obvs, yk, don't skim every comic you read, but if you find yourself not super interested, but feeling like there's some important stuff so you don't want to have to backtrack later, skim. again, the goal is to have fun!

other things that might trip you up-

terminology: wtf is a volume anyways?

i'm so glad you asked!! answer: it depends. so okay, if like you google a reading order list, you might see Batman (Vol. 1) #1-100, or something like that. in this case a volume is a whole entire run from start to finish. Batman Vol 1, in this example, would be synonymous with Batman (1937-2011), which includes both Pre-Crisis and Post-Crisis.

however, if you're looking at collected editions, or trades, a volume will be more like a volume of manga, where volume refers to that set of issues.

trades: this is when the publisher collects a run or event into a book that would be sold somewhere like Barnes & Noble, it can be hardback or paperback. single issues are not trades.

events: these are crossover storylines! sometimes they cross houses, so you could have issues from Batman and say, Green Lantern, but usually they're contained within a house. events that effect the whole universe are usually their own "run", like Infinite Crisis had tie-in issues from most (all) on-goings, but the core issues were Infinite Crisis #1, and so on. they range widely in scale, clearly.

on-goings: can refer to currently running comics, for example rn, Zdarsky's Batman and Tom Taylor's Nightwing are on-goings. Jason and Tim are not leading any on-goings rn. or, it can be used to refer to comics that were on-going at the time of whatever is being discussed.

variant: this has nothing to do with the comics content itself, it relates purely to the covers. most current comics have their standard cover, and then a variant or two or four. any ratio, so for instance 1:25 variant, just means that for every 25 standard copies, there is 1 of that variant. that kind of variant is usually a store incentive, so that they'll buy a certain amount of copies to sell. not all variants are rare though!

facsimile: this is when they reprint an old comic. not as a trade, just as single issue.

black label/elseworld: these are comics that are published by DC, but not part of the mainline comics' canon continuity. sometimes they'll sort of fold in black label stuff, but like, it's essentially licensed fanfic.

events: ahh!! the last page says the story continues in a different run!!

2 options:

1) ignore it, stay in your run. there'll be a couple gaps but you'll live, and google is free.

2) google "event-name-here reading order". this will give you lists that will tell you which comics to read in which order. sometimes the order they came out in is not the best reading order. some events flow better than others. also, there will be "core" issues and "tie-ins". core issues are the Main Storyline, not skippable, (if you don't want to be confused). tie-ins are character-specific, so important for that character but if you don't care about them, those issues will be skippable.

there is no wrong choice. you can change your mind, decide you want to read the event, or lose interest in the event and stick with your current run.

concurrent runs: what should you do if there are multiple runs you want to read that came out at the same time while they were being published?

again, two options.

1) read them in the order they were released. the easiest way to do this is to read month by month, so read all the issues that came out in May of X year, then June, so forth. you'll basically be simulating keeping up with current comics as they release.

2) pick a title, read it to the end, start the next one. this will have you essentially cycling through the same period from start to finish a few times, but honestly there's a lot going on in comics and outside of events where they cross-over, there isn't too much overlap, so it doesn't feel super repetitive. at least to me. plus, if you've read the event, you don't need to re-read it every time you hit it, imo. this is how i do it actually. i mean, current comics, i read the runs i'm following as they release, but for backlog, i stick to one title at a time. if i'm feeling fancy, i might read one run up to a certain point, then switch titles, then switch back, but i am max switching between 2. an example of this is actually what i'm doing rn. i read batgirl 2000 up to issue #11 (or 12?) and then switched to Batman: Gotham Knights, which is what I'm currently reading. why? B:GK starts after B2000, and i couldn't pick, so i split the difference and went semi-chronological.

finally, there's no pressure. by which i mean, you don't need to speed run. especially if you don't have a ton of free time, don't worry about being the most efficient reader, always reading runs that'll give you the most bang for your buck according to other people, etc. i mean also, there is just. so. much. content. you cannot sprint your way through, this is a marathon at best, a leisurely jog, ideally.

looking at the sheer amount of content out there was super overwhelming to me, even though i wanted to read it. it's not a quick task, so it felt impossible. like even if i finished one run, well, that was just a drop in the bucket, i'd made barely any progress in the grand scheme of things. that was paralyzing.

i ended up mocking up a list for myself of what i thought of as "key" runs. this was still an ambitious list, but like tailored to my interests. as i read/saw posts, if a title not on this list sounded interesting, i stuck it on my tbrl list. (to be read later). that was essentially me going, 'hey, this looks interesting, but my plate is full rn, so i'll save it for later.' i didn't add runs from my tbrl to my key list as i went, i focused on working through my keys first.

within my keys, i just bounced all over the place. the order made sense to me, lmao, and probably no one else. it was a very loose, "follow this character chronologically". except for dick i read him all wonky, mainly bc i started with N52, skipped some N52 to get to Rebirth, skipped some Rebirth (*cough* Ric era *cough*), switched characters, then came back to Dick, bounced to NTT, practically bounced right back off it bc the transistion from modern to 80's comic was ROUGH, went and Grayson (N52), forced myself to adjust to older comics, then went through chronologically until i hit dick!bats era bc i'd read a solid chunk of it between reading for Tim and Damian. i share all this only to say, you can read however, it'll work out.

if you're curious, it took me six months to read my whole "key" list. almost to the day, funnily enough. i don't remember the exact number, but i think it was like north of 700+ comics at least? tbh, i didn't feel like i'd read all that many comics but based off some conversations i've had, maybe it is? i have no frame of reference. operating under the assumption that that is a lot of comics, i feel like it's important that you know a) i have a ton of free time, and b) i read very fast.

set zero expectations for yourself time-wise. it's not a race, no one is judging you. don't be an idiot like me and try to calculate how long it will take you to read X amount of comics either, okay HAHA. context: when i started Robin 1993, the fact that it was 195 issues was massively intimidating. the longest run i'd read so far was 30. i averaged out my comics per day, lowballed to give myself breathing room and nearly cried bc it was going to take me 20 days (3 whole weeks!!!) to read the whole thing and that felt like an eternity. i ended up reading it in 5 days. (i was HOOKED.) on the complete opposite end of things, i started Batman: Gotham Knights...a month ago? maybe two. i'm still on #18, bc life got busy.

bottom line, you've no real idea how long it will take you to read anything, let alone your whole wish list, and it really doesn't matter how long it takes you, as long as, say it with me, you're having fun!!

god i feel annoying.

okie dokie!! i think that covers all the dilemmas i remember having, but if i missed anything, feel free to send in another ask!

BRUCE WAYNE:

Post-Crisis only bc everywhere else is just #1

Batman 1940 #404

Detective Comics 1937 #568.

DICK GRAYSON:

Dick's og robin days are allllll Pre-Crisis. i'm not sure which issues he comes in tbh. if you don't read want to start in Pre-Crisis, (valid, wise imo), most robin!Dick content is going to come from flashback storylines. but there are some robin!Dick comics that are solid, contained stories that are not Pre-crisis. not an exhaustive list but:

Robin: Year One

Batman Chronicles: The Gauntlet

Batman- One Bad Day: Mr. Freeze

and then for Dick as Nightwing, it's a lil tricky bc technically that starts in The New Teen Titans 1980. You could start at #1, or #42, which is the Judas Contract storyline where Nightwing debuts. (The title's name switches to Tales of the Teen Titans, it's the same run.)

However, if you're not interested in reading a team book, valid, then you have:

Nightwing 1995 (technically comes before the main run, this was a 4 issue prequel mini)

Nightwing 1996, start at #1. Now, if you stick with this run, there are 2 stories that are part of it but were done separately as minis so for whatever reason, on DCUI at least, they're not in the order, but you'd read Nightwing/Huntress after Nightwing #18, and then Nightwing: The Target after Nightwing #60 i believe.

Or, Nightwing: Year One. This is part of the Nightwing 1996 run, but has been collected separately, so you could start here, i suppose.

JASON TODD

okay so technically, he does not lead a title until N52. but obvs, he has relevant comics before that.

i would not personally recommend starting with UTRH. like, if that's what you want to read, valid, do what you want. but also, if you're willing to read 9-23 comics beforehand, i truly think you will appreciate/enjoy UTRH way more. bc like they just make the overall drama/angst that much more, yk? like okay if UTRH is chicken breast, you could just cook it as is and eat it. but unseasoned chicken just does not hit the way it could. add a lil salt + pepper, bam, big diff. add some legit seasoning?! now you're cooking. does that make sense?

actually okay hmm. i loathe to be prescriptive and give orders, but here, i'll lay out what i consider to be the Bare Minimum (salt and pepper) + the Crash Course (legit seasoning). no wrong choice!

Bare Minimum (9 Comics before you read UTRH):

A Death in the Family

A Lonely Place of Dying

Crash Course (23 Comics before you read UTRH):

Batman #408- 409

Detective Comics #569-571, 573-574

Batman #416, 424-425

A Death in the Family

New Teen Titans #55

A Lonely Place of Dying

Batman: Gotham Knights #43-45 (45 is the important one imo, but like it will make a lil more sense if you start at 43)

if you want to read the entirety of his og run as Robin, that would be Batman #408-425, and Detective Comics #568-#582. if you want like a whole ass breakdown of all his appearances in chronological order, check this godsend of a resource out.

and again, not to tell you what to do, but New52 Red Hood and the Outlaws is um. i'll be nice. i did not enjoy it. is it worth reading if you love Jason? honestly yeah. but i wouldn't start there, that's all i'm saying.

CASSANDRA CAIN:

Very simple!! She first appears in Batman, during the No Man's Land arc, so her issues there would be Batman #567-569, and then Batgirl 2000.

she gets deleted in the New 52 launch, (boo tomato, tomato), and isn't brought back until Batman and Robin: Eternal. then she co-lead a recent (Rebirth) Batgirls run with Steph. lots going on in B&R:E, would not recommend as a starting point.

TIM DRAKE:

Alright, honestly, with Tim all your best jumping on points are Post-Crisis. N52 Teen Titans is whack, I have yet to revisit it and power through, and if you've seen my other rec list, yk I'm not a fan of any modern runs he's lead, so i cannot in good conscience, rec those as starting points. Detective Comics Rebirth, i've heard, is solid, but a) i still haven't read it yet unfortunately, and b) he like dies. "dies". not very far in. and then, consequentially, is not present for a hot minute. so.

but anyways! you do have options in Post-Crisis!!

A Lonely Place of Dying. his intro!!

his official like debut as Robin is Batman #457, but he is in Batman comics that take place between aLPoD and #457.

Robin 1991. this is the first of 3 mini-series that take place before Tim's main run. i accidentally skipped them bc i didn't know they existed whoops

Robin 1993. his main run! the longest Robin title to run so far.

technically, Young Justice 1998 is also an option, if you're interested in the team. I started reading this after Robin #120, read the whole run, then went back to Robin. see advice on concurrent runs below.

Stephanie Brown:

tbh, not a great starting character. not because she isn't great!! she's just very much so a side character until she gets her own run, Batgirl 2009, but there is so much going on in that time-period (Bruce is dead, Dick is Batman, etc.), that like it's not super beginner friendly imo. and then they delete her when they do New 52, she gets brought back in Batman Eternal if i'm remembering correctly? And then she and Cass lead a recent (Rebirth) Batgirls run.

ik her first appearance is in Batman, although i don't know exactly which issue. she's in Robin 1993 a lot, ofc. she's also in Batgirl 2000 here and there. basically, you'll have to do some hunting and moving around if you just want to follow Steph. i do not know those issues by heart, someone somewhere has probably listed them. re: google is your friend!!

Duke Thomas:

okay so. ik he first appears at some point in the N52 Batman run, don't know the exact issue, but i'm pretty positive it's an event of some kind, could be wrong. then he is the main in a team book, We Are Robin. then i think he's a side character in Batman/Detective Comics mainly? he has a mini-series, Batman and The Signal.

i have not read his first appearance yet, i have read We Are Robin. i hesitate to say that he's not a great character to start with bc i'm pretty sure DC created him to like attract new readers, which should imply that he's a good starting character?? but like stuff is weiiiird where he comes in, Bruce is not Batman bc he doesn't have his memories (idk why yet, haven't read yet), Jim Gordon is Robo-Batman- weird. very confusing place to start, i would imagine. which is a bummer bc like, Duke is fantastic. love him. cannot wait to read more. unfortunately, there are just some characters who's existence necessitates a lot of context. i like to think they're worth the wait, though!

Damian Wayne:

he is the trickiest to hop in on imo, out of the "main" members. he is also a character who's existence necessitates context. you can def crash course him though, to an extent. honestly, with any characters that came in towards the end of Post-Crisis or later, being okay with confusion is like extra important, if you want to start with them.

2/3 of Damian's first 3 major appearances are events. i read Dami later on in my comics journey, so by then i was like, pshh, event nbd. i also read him chronologically, so i could be biased, but i do think that is best. however, yk, go for what interests you.

Post Crisis:

Batman #655-658, then The Resurrection of Ra's al Ghul, then Battle for the Cowl.

Batman and Robin: Batman Reborn. Dick!Bats + officially Robin Damian

New 52:

Batman and Robin. He's going to die. He will be resurrected. Then, Robin: Son of Batman.

Rebirth:

Super Sons

Robin

ofc, this doesn't cover everyone, but i hope this is enough to get you started!! i realize that this is long-ass post, i'm sorry i couldn't be more concise. i sincerely hope this was helpful/made stuff less intimidating, and if i failed in that regard, i'm so sorry.

i hope you have so much fun!! my ask box will always be open, and so are my dms if you have any more questions or want to freak out about comics :)

[misc-obeyme]

more kitchen barb thots

playing music while mc and barbatos are cooking, each doing their own tasks. mc starts swaying their hips to the music- knowingly or not, but its enough to distract barb once he notices and he cant help but continuing to glance over bc the movements are just so captivating he cant help but watch despite all his usual self control. muscle memory has to take over for his task to continue but eventually even that falters (hopefully not while hes chopping stuff lmao) but mc hears the change in rhythm/slight clattering of the bowl and obvs has to check if their cooking buddy is ok!! and barbatos barely manages not to stutter as he assures them hes fine, just a bit distracted because of an "upcoming event" or some other excuse but hes got a pink tint to his cheeks from nearly getting caught staring.

at this point mc can either be oblivious to the reality and just reach out to give a gentle reassuring arm squeeze and a reminder that theyre 'always here if you need anything, we can take a break to decompress for a few minutes :) ' or theyre wise abt it and decide to tease the poor butler and go up to him, turn him to face them and put a hand to his forehead ""checking for a fever"" (pressing their chest into his at the same time ;) ). pull him away from the busy counter and dote on him worried 'but barb your face is so warm! i dont want my favorite demon getting sick :( especially since you look so cute with a blush it would be so unfortunate if the cause was you not feeling well' but internally theyre all >:3 lets see what it takes for his resolve to crack

i feel like the moment you catch him off guard with this kinda thing if you just keep up the "innocent/unaware" flirt teasing it would make it more and more difficult for him to pull it back together. but if he gets that moment then he'll start teasing back. this may be ooc rip and it got Way long but scenarios are fun lol

-🥐

Oh welcome back, 🥐 anon!

One of my favorite things about Barb is the way he teases. However, I also think it's fantastic when the tables are turned and he's the one who's flustered.

The thing about this guy is that he isn't easily flustered, but if there is anyone who can accomplish it without even noticing, it's absolutely MC. I have actually written scenes (though I think they later got scrapped) where Barbatos straight up cuts himself while chopping vegetables because of something MC did or said. So not like him! But that's the point! MC makes him do things he wouldn't normally do. And he can either lean into it or try to resist it and I think you end up with different scenarios depending on which way he decides to go.

MC's reaction certainly matters, too. If they're oblivious, I think Barbatos could safely pretend nothing happened and move on, but I also think he could be the one who teases MC and gets them all flustered.

But a wise MC who's all I'm just trying to make sure you're okay! Listen. I very much think that Barbatos would have a hard time controlling himself at that point. Even if he knows that MC is doing it on purpose. Maybe even more if he knows.

The best thing about Barb is that I feel like I can write him being a real troublemaker where he just messes with MC a lot, but I can also write him being the one who is easily flustered. Like yeah he's got that rigid facade, but you can say beneath it there is a man who is fully aware of what he's doing and deliberately does things just to get a reaction out of MC. Or you could say that beneath it is a suppressed man that gets blushy when you start to tease him. However, I do think either way he'd eventually give in because MC is the only person for whom he is lenient about anything ever.

MC might tease him and fluster him and get him all riled up, but as soon as he realizes what's going on, he starts playing into it. I think he'd use the whole situation to his advantage. Especially if he's like yes let's take a break because secretly he wants to get naughty but he doesn't want to mess up the kitchen lol.

[kurt-hummel-eat-your-heart-out]

okay okay.i KNOW it’s my fav(John Bender) again but I just a loved your fic!(same person) but what if reader and John are in love with each other and after a serious and horrible(abus!ve situation) event that had happened to John. They run to an abandoned house where they stay together.(t4t as a bonus because I HC that John is trans if that’s fine?) thank you!

Hello againnnn @screamfome . IK I WAS GONE FOR A MONTH I am sooo sorry. Hopefully since it's summer I'll have more free time lol. Also yes I love this concept, you Fr have the best ideas:D also this is so outsiders coded LMAO like the abandoned house just reminded me of that.

Transmasc John Bender (The Breakfast Club) x Transmasc reader

Disclaimer/warning: this goes into John’s home life, which as we know isn’t a good one. Abusive family members, frequently mentioned physical violence, transphobia, smoking (it’s John), Just read at your own comfort level.

Approx 4.1k word count. I was on a ROLL lol

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It had been a long day. It wasn’t just you, even the hallways at school had felt even more lifeless today. If that was even possible. You sighed, leaning back into the mattress beneath you. You barely remembered a thing after your head hit the pillows, so tired you were practically dead.      

The darkness that awaited you carried you to a soft, dreamless slumber. You were out like a light, so much so that you weren’t even bothered by how cold it was in your room this time of year. Unawakened bliss awaited you, welcoming as ever.    

No sleep that good can last forever. You felt as if not even a minute had passed since you’d fallen asleep. And yet, here you were, disturbed into consciousness. All you could hear was a distant ringing noise, rhythmic beats emanating from a few rooms away.    You begrudgingly turned over on your side, an irritated gaze cast towards your alarm clock on the bedside table.     

Twelve-thirty in the morning, who the hell would call at this time? You decided to let the phone keep ringing, it was probably just a mistake. But it went on… and on… and on.      You groaned, turning back onto your side to try and sleep. But the mystery caller just wouldn’t let up. You sighed, annoyed out of your mind.      

You trudged into the kitchen, the landline still ringing. It was dark, so of course you accidentally walked into the side of the dining room table. Your hip ran into the corner, a dull stabbing feeling ran into your side. You had to use every ounce of strength to not shout out in pain.      

You were fully prepared to curse at some prank caller, insult their mother, the works. You picked up the phone off of its hook, giving a sharp exhale through your nose so whoever this was knew you were pissed off.     “Uh, hello?” You mumbled, the irritation was evident in your tone.      

“Oh thank fuck you picked up.” It took you a minute to recognize who this mystery caller was. The voice was familiar, you just couldn’t pinpoint it in your half-awake state.   

“Wait, wait, Bender is that you?” You were glad it was just him, but still a little pissed that he was calling you in the middle of the night. “John, why are you calling me in the middle of the night…” You loved him, but you were not awake enough for this.       

“I- I don’t know. I’m in trouble, I need help.” The shakiness in his voice definitely caught your attention, it wasn’t something you were used to hearing in him at all. You could hear his heavy breathing from the other side, he sounded scared and out of breath. You had to find out what happened  ��     

“What happened, sweetheart?” You lowered your voice so as to not be too loud for anyone possibly listening in on his side. You dropped the annoyed tone, replacing it with a softer sort of sound.         

“I don’t know- I just,” You heard a frustrated sigh from his end. It sounded like he couldn’t even stop to gather his thoughts, it only made you more worried for him. “Can you come pick me up?” His quiet whisper made him sound like a scared little kid. Seeing this scared, vulnerable side of him just made your heart ache.       

“Of course, I’ll be there in five. Okay?” You told him firmly. If you let it show that you were scared for him, it might make things worse. You always tried to be a source of stability for him, no matter what the situation was.       

But things had never been so bad that he’d asked you to come get him. You were freaked out, to be honest.     

“Okay, I love you.” He maintained the whisper. He just sounded so… small right now. It was so unlike him, it almost sounded like someone else.      

“I love you too, see you soon.” And with that you hung up the phone, rushing to find your shoes and keys. You weren’t going to bother putting on different clothes, it might take too long. So, pjs it was.    

The sleepiness still had a light hold on you as you tripped over nothing a couple times. The only thing you could think to do was go to the kitchen sink and splash some water on your face. The icy tap water hit your face like a train. If you weren't awake before, you definitely were now.

You rushed outside to your car, fumbling with the keys. Your car wasn’t new by any means, but it worked. You were just lucky you had one, you felt bad for John not having one. You knew how some nights got, especially when his dad got home late. 

As you drove, all you thought of was your hatred for John’s father. He was an absolute dirtbag. You could recall countless stories of John’s childhood, how loud his house always seemed. How much he just wanted to get away.      

After a few blocks you could see his house. A slightly run-down two story house near the edge of town. The chipped and faded gray paint had a blue cast to it in the moonlight. At night, John’s house looked as sad as his eyes were during the day. If you took more than a glance at him, you could see the pained look in his eyes.      

He never let anyone see past his rough exterior of course, but you could still sense it. You pulled up to the side of the road, next to his yard. You didn’t even have a second to put the car in park, you could already see John climbing out of a window. The one in his room, you assumed.       

His room was on the second floor, so it had a bit of a drop to it. He had the bottom half of the window pushed up. He steadily shifted towards the ledge, nearly giving you a heart attack. He jumped down to the ground with ease, a practiced motion from numerous nights of sneaking out.       

He practically ran to your car, not wasting a second. You blinked and he was right in front of you in the passenger seat.   

“Drive, please.” His voice came out hard and raspy, like he was out of breath. You didn’t even have time to check on him, to see if he had any new marks.    

“Okay, okay. I’m driving.” You raised a hand, a little startled by how abrupt he was. You hit the gas, not really sure where you were driving off to. You decided to just head down some of the wooded backroads away from town. 

There were these old trails that had been blocked off outside of town. Technically, the land belonged to the state, but it wasn’t public ground. You and John had always ignored the ‘Do Not Trespass’ signs stapled to the trees near the edge of the forest. How could the two of you not take advantage of such a perfect hiding spot?   

You two had a theory that it was some old property the state had seized and had no idea what to do with. It wasn’t big enough to be a park itself or close enough to one to be added to another.    

You turned onto a rough gravel road, just off of where your town stopped and the highway started. It wasn’t the smoothest drive, but you couldn’t complain too much. It was a secluded area, far away from anyone or anything to bother you.    

You had stayed silent thus far, giving John a minute to himself. His labored breath had only let up so much, you could still hear how on edge he was. You glanced over at him, seeing the slight shake in his shoulders. His arms were crossed upon his chest, his eyes fixed on the road ahead of you.    

“Johnny? You okay baby?” You took your right hand off of the wheel, laying it on his knee. This seemed to snap him out of his daze. 

He flinched slightly, his gaze snapping over to you. You sensed the sudden jerk of his head in your direction, which made you retract your hand. Had it been too soon? Had whatever happened shaken him up that badly?

“Sorry.” You gave a quick apology, beginning to move your hand back to the wheel.

“No, no, it’s okay.” He reached for your hand, grasping it firmly. You could feel the way he shook like a scared animal. “Stay with me. Please…” He held your hand in his own, leading it back to his knee. You let him place it there, giving his hand a soft squeeze. This seemed to ease his nerves just a bit. You could hear him let out a deep sigh as he squeezed  the top of your hand back.

You continued down the gravel road into the woods. You drove deeper into the trees, the shadows your headlights made twisting their shape as you passed them. The forest was always a little creepy, even more so in the middle of the night. 

You passed by countless maples and oaks, keeping your hand on his knee. You decided to stop after a couple minutes, you were deep enough into the woods now.

You put the car in park, switching off your headlights. You then turned to John, finally getting an opportunity to look at him properly. The look in his eyes absolutely broke your heart.

He was like a dog on the Fourth of July; his eyes wide and scared, a slight shake to his body, and an expression that made you wonder if he was about to cry.

“John?” You leaned across the center console, getting a bit closer. “Can I take a look at you?” You whispered softly, just loud enough to be heard over the car engine in the background. He finally made eye contact with you. His gaze softened ever so slightly as he saw the unease written all over your face. You weren't going to ask him what happened, not right now at least. Although it would burn questions in your mind, you wouldn't until you knew he was okay. Physically, at least.

He gave a small nod, still looking you in the eyes. You withdrew your hand from his knee. You took his hands in your own, checking for any signs of a fight. The skin of his knuckles were clear as day, no signs of blood or bruising in the slightest. 

He turned to the side to face you, giving you a better opportunity to look him over. Your gaze traveled up his arms, turning them over to check the backs of his arms. You frowned when you saw a bruise starting to form on his elbow. John was quiet as you inspected him. He was even somewhat surprised when he saw the bruise on his arm, soon frowning as well.

He turned his face away from you, no longer wanting eye contact as you looked him over. This was too embarrassing for him. Yes, it was a regular occurrence. And yes, you were always there to take care of him after a situation at his house. 

But it was different this time. It was more painful to look at himself, to look at how visible his weakness was to him now.

The strain of thoughts in John’s head were currently babbling on about how pathetic and weak he was, almost akin to the drunken babbling of his father not too many hours ago. He couldn’t help the way his breath hitched at a particularly brutal phrase that echoed in his head.

You immediately looked up from his arms, barely hearing the little choked sound that came out of him.

“John?” You whispered his name, it was like a request for him to look you in the eyes again. But he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t let you see how weak he was, how pathetic he felt now.

“John, can you look at me? Please?” You kept your voice lowered. You were soft and caring in every aspect, you knew something was different this time. He slowly turned to face you, reluctantly so. The sight of tears pricking his eyes and the red mark under his left eye caused you to let out a quiet gasp. 

Your immediate reaction was to pull him closer to you. Your instincts told you to protect him from whatever had happened, even though you knew that wasn’t entirely possible. Time had passed, what had happened couldn’t be reversed no matter how hard you wanted it to.

You felt John’s arms around you almost immediately, holding you back. He hadn’t gotten a look at himself yet, but he could assume what you’d seen. He didn’t have to see to know what was there; he could feel it.

You sat there holding him for a minute, almost feeling like crying yourself. He didn’t deserve this. You were scared for him. You wanted to make it all better. A million thoughts buzzed through your head, loud uncontrolled. You pulled away from him for a moment to get a better look at the mark.

You brought a hand up to his cheek, making sure not to directly touch the red spot. “Did he do this?” You both already knew who you were referring to. And you both already knew the answer to your question. You just needed confirmation from him.

“Yeah.” John’s voice was still just above a whisper. It hurt you to see him so reserved like this. Usually after something happened with his dad, he would quickly find something for the two of you to do to distract him. Something like goofing off at the grocery store, driving around with the radio on too loud, or just having a smoke together. Now his silence spoke volumes.

“Here, why don’t we go on a walk. It’s a nice night.” You suggested, still keeping that same gentle tone of voice. He nodded quietly, and with that you took your keys out of the ignition and got out of the car. 

You met John on the other side and had neglected to notice the fact that he only had a t-shirt. You were right when you said it was a nice night; it was a nice night for the fact that it was October. You cursed quietly to yourself before taking off your hoodie and offering it to him.

“Shit, sorry, it’s cold. Here, take this.” You didn’t really give him a chance to respond before you placed the hoodie in his arms. Freezing wasn’t going to be an option, and you would make sure of it.

“You sure?” John quirked a brow at you. He was probably going to refuse your offer and say something about you getting cold, but you didn’t care. 

“Shh, just take it.” You assured him, smiling softly at him and waving your hand dismissively. Without another word, he slipped it over his head. His usual cocky attitude had been set to the side for now, so he complied.

You linked an arm around his, taking his hand in yours. His hand was warm like it always was, even with the chill of the night. You two walked down the beaten down dirt trail, deeper into the woods. The moon shined brightly enough for you to be able to see where you were going, but not without stepping on the occasional stick or dead leaf.

You let a comfortable silence hang between you two for a few minutes, for John’s sake. But soon your concern got the best of you, and you were tempted to know what exactly had happened.

“Johnny, baby. You wanna talk about things?” You turned to look at him as you walked along the trail. You were fully prepared for him to say no, it was understandable considering how quiet he’d been thus far.

“Maybe… I don’t know. Jus’ give me a minute, maybe…?” He let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. 

“You don’t have to, just thought you might want to.” You squeezed his hand, reassuring him that he didn’t have to talk about what happened with his dad. 

“No, no, I think I want to. Could help since it’s you.” He squeezed your hand back. You couldn’t help but smile at what he said. Ever since he started opening up about what he went through, he seemed a little less uptight. Around you at least. But sometimes you notice it with other people, too.

He nudged you with elbow, motioning to something in the distance you two had been approaching. A look of surprise and confusion came across your face as you looked at the old, dilapidated house in front of you. How had you never noticed this before? You supposed you and John had never walked this far into the forest, but still. It was odd.

“Wanna check it out?” He asked. There was that little sense of adventure back in him. You smiled at him, leading him towards the house.

“Oh hell, why not. We could crash here if there aren’t any squatters that beat us to it.” You approached the old wooden door, pushing it open with ease. You cringed at the way its hinges creaked and groaned. It was an awful sound, but you toughed it out.

You called out, trying to see if anyone was there already. John checked a couple rooms, finding no one. With the confirmation that nobody else would interrupt you two, you sat on the floor, against the wall in the main room.

“Alright, c’mere.” You waved John over, letting him sit in front of you between your legs. He was facing away from you so he could lean back into you, letting you hold him tightly. You sighed contentedly, just relieved that he was in your arms instead of in his house.

“So,” You began. But before you could say anything else, John held up a finger to signal for you to pause. You obliged him, closing your mouth. You watched him pull out his cigarettes and lighter. He flicked the lighter to life, pressing the flame to the end of a cigarette. Once he was certain it was lit, he put his lighter back in his pocket and brought the cigarette to his lips. He took a long drag, closing his eyes as he took in the warmth of the smoke.

He exhaled after a moment, leaning back onto your chest with a sigh. You wrapped an arm around him as he took a few more drags. He leaned into your touch, which only made you want to hold him tighter.

“So,” John’s voice was firmer this time. He was grounded now, bordering on relaxed. It was an unfortunate coping mechanism to have, but smoking really did seem to help him.

“As you could definitely already tell, the old shitbag hit me again.” He sighed. You nodded in understanding, not really surprised but livid nonetheless. You didn’t show how pissed off that made you, John had probably already been around enough pissed off people today. Instead, you rubbed his arm soothingly.

“Can I ask what it was about this time?” You wanted to be considerate of him still. This was fresh, you weren’t going to press him for a story. You wouldn’t have to though, as he nodded in response.

“I was makin’ dinner; didn’t feel like going out and getting something. Not too sure I got the cash for it either…” He sighed again, more smoke in his exhale. “The fucker comes up behind me all like 

‘Oh look at you bein’ independent. Man of the fuckin’ house, huh?’, 

and y’know I could tell he was drunk.” He paused to take another drag of his cigarette. The impression of his father was pretty accurate, you had to admit.

“And I’m just standing there, tryna do my shit. I say

 ‘Dad, I’ve got a burner on. Don’t try anything.’, 

‘cause I don’t want him to burn the fuckin’ house down.” He ran his hand through his hair again before letting his hand settle on top of yours. He interlocked your fingers, settling them back on his stomach. You kept his hand in yours as you listened to him.

“Then he goes 

‘You know it’s a shame you gotta be so butchy ‘bout everything. If you weren’t playin’ pretend all the time, you could make some guy real fuckin’ happy. Least I could be proud of ‘ya for bein’ a wife, not whatever the fuck you’re doin’ to yourself.’” 

John repeated his father’s words, laced with just as much cruelty as the man who first said them. The words of his father disgusted you, and you could tell things would quickly go south from here.

John went on. “So I say 

‘Dad, don’t say that.’ 

And then he grabs the back of my shirt, throws me backwards, like, away from the stove. And he just starts yellin’ at me, saying all this shit about how he’d treat me better if I was normal. If I just dropped the act and lived like everyone else does.” Johns voice got a little quieter as he spoke. You could tell this got to him. It hit him like a punch to the gut. 

You knew he hated the idea of getting hitched, even if he got to be a man in the relationship. Too many outside opinions and expectations, he said. 

You cringed at his father’s mention of ‘dropping the act’. At this point, neither you or John had any doubts about yourselves or each other. It was hell existing as it was, but standing your ground about who you were was a whole other thing. You were proud of him for not suppressing who he was, but at the same time you couldn’t stand how he was treated for it.

“Mhm. God I hate that…” You agreed with him, letting him know you were still listening. He took another drag of his cigarette before continuing.

“So he gets me near the wall, like almost throws me against it. And I think that’s when my elbow got hit, now that I think about it. I don’t know, it’s a little blurry,” He paused to let out a small yawn. You could imagine how tired he was, with it still being the middle of the night. And the obvious.

“And I just wasn’t in the fuckin’ mood, right? So I didn’t say shit, didn’t look at him, nothin’. I kinda just took it so I could get it over with. And then he hit me." You knew that was coming but it still broke your heart to hear. The pained sound of his voice came through, you could tell he was so tired of his father. He was tired of all the shit this man put him through. You held John a little tighter, feeling a sudden surge of protectiveness over him. 

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry," Your voice held such sincerity. It was such a comfort to the man, who needed it desperately. Your soft way of speaking to him and the way you held him, coupled with the cigarette, had him feeling so far away from the situation. Like he was safe from it now, like nothing could even hurt him. You leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek, sweet and considerate.

"I've got you now, I can make it better." You assured him of your presence. Even though you could only temporarily make things better, you would try to ease his pain for as long as you possibly could. You ran your fingers through his hair methodically, occasionally playing with a few strands. The sensation could do wonders to put him at ease. You could feel him relax as he finished the last of his cigarette. He snuffed it into the ground beneath you, then flicked it away. He sighed, turning around slightly in your hold so he could face you.

"Hey. I love you. Don't forget it." He sounded a little more drowsy now, like he could fall asleep in your arms any minute.

You leaned it to place a soft, tender kiss on his forehead. A goodnight kiss of sorts. "I love you too. Never forgetting it. Ever." You couldn't help but smile as you saw his face again. He looked adorable, all tired and warm, like he felt safe. 

You'd stay happy like this for the night, holding John in your arms and protecting him. You'd be there again and again, no matter the reason. No matter how bad he was hurt, you'd be there to make it better.

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Hope you enjoyed! Next time I won’t be so late for a request Omg 💀 finals week will do that to you lmao.

But anyways thank you so much for reading and send me a request if you feel so inclined. It’s summer and I’m bored so I’d love to hear some ideas:D go check out my pinned post if you wanna see what fandom I write for!

[menlove]

i’m new to the whole beatles rpf (i am an rpf veteran though i wrote 75k words of michael jackson fanfiction in middle school and 15k of queen freshman year of hs 😐) so what are like the tenets of beatles rpf. what’s the need to know.

YELLS that's so fucking valid of you I can't even lie

and HMMMM okay I can only speak for mclennon bc I observe the other ships from a distance but don't chomp at the bit about it but here's some things that come up A Lot in fics

john & paul met on july 6, 1957 at a church garden party. john played "come go with me" & got the words wrong while paul watched from the audience and Fell In Love. after, they officially met. paul took john's guitar, tuned it, then flipped it upside down (he's left handed) and played 20 flight rock perfectly. john was smitten and the rest was history

oh shit edit I forgot! john used to climb the drainpipe into pauls room. VITAL info that comes up so often

they had group wanking sessions (beat the meatles lmfao) & they'd call out the names of various female celebrities during it (john would apparently call out male names as a joke to throw people off which 💀)

STUUUUUU. we love stu, paul hates stu. stuart sutcliffe was a boy john met at art college & he became His Boy Bestie instead of paul for a while which had paul FUMING. john & stuart lived together for a while & in mclennon lore john was in love with him (& I do also think that lmao). which brings us to

HAMBURG. in 1960 the beatles went to hamburg & stayed several months in the world's dingiest room. they shared bunk beds & stayed up all night playing music & took pills (prellies) to stay the fuck awake. stuart went with as their bassist & paul hated him soooo bad so bad. in part bc stu did not take the band very seriously & was not good at playing and paul is a notorious perfectionist. fun hamburg facts! here stuart met astrid, his future fiance. and she took them to a gay bar lmao. also, at one point, in the most heinous and toxic move, john walked in on paul fucking a girl and lost it. he cut up her clothes with a pair of scissors and then started stabbing the wardrobe 💀 normal behavior. the whole thing was just drugs and sex and music. great fic setting always.

eventually they got back. george was deported first bc he was underage & then paul and the drummer lit a fucking condom on fire where they were staying and got deported too. john stayed an extra bit & when he got back didn't tell anyone. in the meantime, stu stayed in germany w astrid and paul Got A Job at his dad's insistence bc they all thought the band was over when john didn't show back up. but eventually he did. and made paul pick between the job and the band...... or rather, his dad and john. and paul picked john.

Some Months Later john took paul to paris for his 21st birthday. 200000000000 fics about this. all legendary all gay.

stu died </3

there's barely any fics of the touring days which is tragic I think there should be 60000. I guess the only thing that comes up semi often from that era is that they played lovers in a play, pyramus & thisbe, and paul named two kittens pyramus & thisbe. and gave pyramus (the character he played) to john. not joking at all.

next biggest Canon McLennon Event everyone brings up is lsd. george & john got into lsd first & ringo tried it as well. paul was extremely reluctant to and this caused a bit of a rift between him and john. eventually though, they did trip together and the first night is McLennon Fic Lore. john accidentally dropped acid in the studio (smth he avoided) & was out of it. almost jumped off the roof. paul took him back to his home (cavendish) & took lsd with him. there's a lot to this trip I can't even summarize but it was gay and there's lots of fics abt this incident

was Not the first time paul took lsd though which brings us to the Next Big Tropey Players: tara browne and robert fraser. both are men paul hung around in 1967 and there's looots of fics where he was gay w them and john is Seething

india! I'm not an india truther so I don't really get into these but the fandom at large thinks Something Happened during the beatles' 1968 trip to india. this usually takes the form of john confessing to paul and them fucking and then paul turning him down. background lore for many many breakup fics

and that's the stuff that tends to come up Most Often. there's so much lore I could probably write an entire novel & a lot of it gets referenced but these are some of the biggest players lmao

[imaginespazzi]

Yeah no that definitely makes sense and agreed - I think at that stage in her life and career, she'd only have a child out of circumstance rather than on purpose.

P would be trying real hard not to let her favouritism show while she's coaching, but everyone knows anyway that she's extra soft for Stephie. Imagine a game where Stephie gets a little hurt and P's ready to fight another 6-yr old kid lmao.

I keep imagining how soft and cute P would be with a mini Azzi 🥹

Ooo yep, I definitely vibe with staying as close to irl UConn lore as possible, plus I'm never gonna say no to another cruise scene haha.

Oh imagine when P comes around to Storrs during Azzi's final year to visit the menaces or even just when she's facetiming any of them and that inevitable awkwardness of broaching the Azzi topic, or Azzi accidentally walking in while the others are on the phone with her.

I realise I've just kinda assumed that they break up after P's final year 😅 Would that mean that the public never knew about their relationship? At least, not officially?

If that's the case, do the media or public ever question their "friendship" and why they don't seem to be close anymore?? Like when P gets traded, and there's talk about the two "former best friends" being reunited?

Also, do they still kinda fall into each other at times after breaking up? Maybe especially that first year or so after the break up, like during Azzi's final college year and then slowly fade into no communication? Or do they immediately cut off all connection and only interact at public events and games? Or just barely interact at all?

Oh and I know I've been advocating for Tim to still always be checking in on P, even if it's just at games but I am super curious in general about the dynamics between Azzi and P's family and P and Azzi's family after they break up. Especially Azzi and Drew, cause you know I'm a sucker for a Drew cameo and Azzi + Drew interactions!

A Steph appearance! Just don't make Stephie into a Warriors fan 😫😂

Ooo a possible divorce situation with P??? Ugh I'm so curious about other relationships they had after breaking up! Although idk about P getting married to someone else (only cause I'm selfish and just can't see her marrying anyone other than Azzi lol) - what if she got engaged and came close but in the end, she just couldn't go through with it?? Or we can go with divorce, that's cool too, it has been 9 years after all haha.

I mean… I may or may not have a playlist where I drag songs into if they give me the exes to lovers fic vibe 😏. I need a title for it though!

Ngl, I actually was thinking "oh I wonder what Taylor song Nivi's gonna go with for this one?" 😆 Last Kiss seems like a pretty perfect choice. But now that just makes me think that we're about to go through even more pain than we did with the UCLA fic before we get a happy ending. We are gonna get a happy ending, right?

Speaking of Taylor songs - why do I feel like loml could potentially be one of the songs used for a chapter - "what we thought was for all time was momentary" or "you shit-talked me under the table, talking rings and talking cradles. I wish I could un-recall how we almost had it all."

Oh btw Nivi, you totally don't have to address all or any of my questions!! I literally just chuck in whatever comes to mind but please feel free to tell me to just wait for the fic to find out the answers 😅

And pleaseee, your "NO NO NO NOPE NO" in response to that ask about you having kids had me dead 😭

ALSO, Tatum and Ella Mai expecting a baby?! Talk about private but not a secret, they did a fine ass job keeping the pregnancy quiet as long as they did though!

-🙋‍♀️

EVERYONE HAS ME SO CONFLICTED I have no idea what to do lmao maybe I'll just leave it open-ended and we don't have to go into how this child came to be lol

LMAO all the other parents whining about playing time and their child not getting a starting role meanwhile Azzi's out here giving Paige a talking to about how they're literally 5 year old's, this is not that serious and Stephie doesn't needa start every single game

I actually haven't decided the exact time for when they break up but it's definitely before Azzi gets to the W I think but I haven't really thought about the media reaction yet, other than that it's obviously a big deal when they end up on the same team again in the sense that it's a huge deal that two mvp's are teaming up

So....mayhaps a little spoiler but there might potentially be just a little bit of Drew and Azzi angst at some point because let's just remember she was in his life from very young and then she wasn't.

Well if I go with the Valkyries, it only make sense babes. Trust it's gonna be as hard to write for me as it is for you to read but Stephie is very likely gonna be a Warriors fans (that hurt to write oh lord)

LMAO give me a title?

Happy ending? Hmmmm what's that?

YES LOML WOULD HIT SO GOOD. Maybe I'll use that in chapter but I gotta add it to my playlist asap for sure.

I literally got that ask and was like, y'all I am literally in college, no I do not have a child thanks!

I SAW THAT. I'M SO EXICTED FOR THEM!! They really did such a good job and aww Deuce is gonna get a little sibling.

[mintleafkitty72]

Okay, random thoughts about ROTTMNT regarding a "what if" scenario:

I saw this post and it got me thinking about what if the last back up plan of all back up plans for the bad future timeline in the Rise movie was supposed to be Both F!Leo AND Casey Jr. going back to the past to stop the Krang?

(Really really (that's two reallys) long talk about my thoughts on this under the cut)

Like, they both go back and it roughly follows the same timeline as the movie but so much would still be different just because f!Leo is there too with CJ. Which would be nice for CJ specifically because then he wouldn't be alone after the events of the movie and f!Leo and CJ would have someone that could talk to from the bad future, but I just can't stop thinking about how everyone would react and how differently conversations would go during the events of the movie specifically. There is just so much that could happen and it could go more into depth on how CJ feels about the events and how f!Leo would react as well. And every time Mikey tries using his mystic mojo, f!Leo and CJ's hearts break just a little and that also happens every time any one of them does something that their future selves would do in the bad future. (I wish we got more into CJ's character and how he was feeling during/after the events of the movie and I'm so glad that there are so many writers and artists who have dove into his character, thank you guys)

Just imagine f!Leo seeing his younger self come back from the initial attack on the Foot where he's panicking and Raph isn't back yet and f!Leo just gets a flash back to when he lost his Raph. And then past Leo would still go after CJ (and possibly f!Leo too) about how they knew this would happen and then both Splinter and f!Leo try to talk to p!Leo (or maybe it could go a different way, there's just so many possibilities). And then from that point on, f!Leo sees what p!Leo is doing and deciding as the leader and f!Leo is simultaneously irritated that his past self is being reckless and not listening to anyone's input but also realizing that he is a 16 year old kid and that he was too when the invasion first began in the bad future. (I personally don't think f!Leo would hate his past self if he ever went back in time and that he wouldn't act hostile towards his past self, there'd just be a lot of feelings that he never got to really acknowledge during the apocalypse and a lot of realizations and thoughts occurring that he also wouldn't be able to properly address until after the invasion is stopped. Plus, both Leos I feel like have a lot of self hatred but I don't think f!Leo would take out his hatred on his past self).

Then when the bros are going to the turtle tank, f!Leo either stays with Splinter and April while the bros and CJ go to where Raph is or f!Leo goes with the bros and CJ. If he goes to help find Raph, they'll all still get separated in the subway system but it would still be p!Leo and CJ and the PB&J duo + f!Leo and after that, the final fight would happen. How? Idk lmao, but it would still lead to p!Leo alone to fight Krang Prime and his self sacrifice. And it makes me wonder how f!Leo would react to his past self's decisions, knowing what he was getting himself into? Knowing he would have done the same? Understanding how CJ felt every time he made a similar decision in the bad timeline and barely made it out alive? Knowing exactly how p!Leo feels but also knowing exactly how everyone else feels when losing someone close? The dread of knowing that they're gone but not wanting to accept it? Thinking about how he is going to be the last of their family to die from the bad timeline but the first in this one? Then once a few minutes pass, Raph uses his comm to reach them.

And he tells them to get to Staten Island asap, his voice urgent and filled with worry, but not grief. Questions are asked and eventually Raph says that p!Leo is alive, awake (barely), but severely injured and needs medical attention like now. Then one of the four (either Splinter, April, CJ, or f!Leo) ask Raph how p!Leo isn't in the Prison Dimension anymore and he answers by stating Mikey made a portal with his mystic mojo and CJ and f!Leo's hearts stop. Because they think that Mikey died making that portal just like their bad timeline Mikey did.

So, the four of them head to Staten Island as fast as they can and CJ and f!Leo are confused but relieved to see that Mikey is okay and not dead (but they take note of the markings on Mikey's hands, Donnie's right hand, and Raph's left hand). Then, they see Leo's extremely broken body, they make their way home, and they ALL start their healing processes. How all of that may occur can go in many different ways and I'm down for any of them.

I'm sure others in the Rise fandom have also thought of f!Leo going with CJ to the past to "find the key and stop the Krang" but I just had that thought occur and I had to just talk about what that could entail and all my thoughts about it. Because there are a lot of works where f!Leo goes back in time but I don't think I've seen one where he goes back in time with CJ in order to stop the Krang and is there for the events of the movie. If any of you do know of something like that, would you mind sharing it? I'd love to see it.

[trippinsorrows]

I feel like we need a short that details Solana delivering the twins!

How and where did she go into labor?

Where was Roman and how did he react?

What was the procedure? Lmao Did she birth at home? A center?

LMAO I lowkey can imagine Roman being stressed the fuck out because he hates his wife being in pain. And maybe, just maybe, she’s in labor for a couple hours and a little uncomfortable…but the twins show up thinking they’re being supportive but they’re really just making Roman need his blood pressure medication refilled immediately lol

They would get a glimpse of Solana from the hallway and go…

“ Damn. I hope Soso gone’ be alright pushing out them big ass kids. Shit look like it’s gone hurt, uce. Specially when she get to them shoulders and ears’.” Jimmy winced, thinking about Solana’s double load of a task at hand.

Meanwhile Jey nervously ran a hand down his face, before saying, “ Fuck, man. She ain’t got no choice but to be alright. It’s Fajita Tuesday tomorrow. And she told me she was gone make me and the kids the lil spicy Taco Bell ass sauce she make wit’ em.”

“ Fool, she is not gone be able to move around and make us no goddamn’ food tomorrow after having them kids. She just might barely be able to make it to the bathroom good after that.”

“ That’s why she meal prepped our food in the freezer. We just gotta go to big dog house and get em’. Pop in the microwave and allat’.” Jimmy followed up, smirking at the thought of Solana’s cooking on demand for the next week via carefully curated tv dinner tray style meal prep packages for the them and the kids in the event she did go into labor.

Wearing an almost identical smile to his faternal twin’s, Jey said, “ Hell yeah. That’s why I love Soso, man. Always looking out for us. Thats why I can’t wait to come over with Nicki and the kids after the babies born. See em, spoil em, and stuff.”

“ Hell we might stay a couple days. See if she need Nicki help at all. Ya’ know be supportive fa-“

Just as Jey was about to finish his thought, the door to the birthing room wrenched open to reveal a somewhat flustered and annoyed Roman who glared holes into his cousins’ faces barking, “ If yall don’t get your fuckin’ asses out this goddamn place. I swear I’ll have you both fucking castrated before Solana dilates another fucking centimeter.”

“ And let it also be known that anyone I see step a fuckin pinky toe on my property once we go home will be shot on sight. Men, women, children, and any creature thats not my wife’s whiny ass dog is getting a hot one in em’!!”

“ On second thought, kids get rubber bullets to test their future durability. But ya’ll stupid assses are fair game. Especially your dumbass wife. I got something special for her if she steps foot on my shit.” Roman pointed a finger to a now visibly pissed Jey, before slamming the door back and locking it to go return to his wife’s side.

“ See, look on the bright side, uce. You see how the babies already warming up big dog heart. Before that he woulda’ shot the kids with regular bullets too. Look at em’ being a father and what not.” Jimmy goofily beamed.

Hope this interpretation was alright ✨🤦🏾‍♀️💕

NO CAUSE THE WAY I LOVE THIS SO MUCH OMG 🥺🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

the way i can absolutely see the twins showing up to 'support' solana only to act a damn fool as you so greatly depicted and end up getting kicked out by roman. 😂😂😂😂😂 hell, and any child after that, it's an automatic thing where they're just banned from the hospital altogether 😂😂😂😂😂

them talking about her cooking when sis is literally in labor is so on brand for them.

as far as her birth with the girls, ngl, it's giving me angsty vibes. 😭 i hate to do this to ya'll, but someone asked the other day about this and we were causally putting out there it being angsty 😭 and idk.....i feel like it would be.

i feel like they'd come early to some extent, or when roman is out of town. and solana is rushed to the hospital. she's already a little nervous because this isn't how they planned it. they were expected on or after the due date. not before. and roman would want her at a hospital to make sure she has all the resources and care she needs. he'd also have the whole damn floor cleared, and you can bet bloodline security is all up in that bitch. ain't nobody getting inside that's not supposed to be.

solana would be very emotional and overwhelmed, both because of it happening but also roman not being there. like, of course bayley and naomi are there, but, respectfully, she doesn't want them. she wants her husband.

she's already sad because her mom isn't there, and she dislikes hospitals in general, so roman not being there is super hard for her. of course this man is rushing like hell to make it there, and i'm not evil. he'd make it on time for the birth, but you can bet poor solana is crying both from the physical pain but also her emotions. crying that she wants roman and the infamous, 'i can't do this without him." 😭😭😭😭

i also agree she'd have a long labor, which roman hates cause like you said, he can't stand to see her in pain.