#at this point i don’t feel too terrible

[phovaries]

IMAGINE:

It’s your first time climbing Mount Everest and you’re super nervous. You’ve spent years training for it. Practically a lifetime spent navigating every horrible what-if scenario that could only have been fathomed in the depths of your worst nightmares. But, it hardens you. Shields you from the fear that wracks your body the second you crane your neck to look up, up, up, into the stratosphere. You take a deep breath, the weight of your gear grounding you as you start your descent to the heavens.

The beginning goes just as planned. One foot in front of the other while following the hordes of others around you. They too are on the same journey as you. Comrades in fighting against your own biology to complete an impossible task thought to only have been reserved for gods. The wind howls around you, tightening its grip on your lungs as you start to struggle to breathe.

It’s okay, I’m just panicking. You think to yourself, knowing that you’ve already trained your lungs to handle the low atmospheric pressure.

It doesn’t get better, though. And like a ship thrown off course by a singular degree, you find yourself dreadfully alone.

It’s okay, you tell yourself. You just need to get to the next checkpoint in time before your fingers start to really hurt. The wind laughs at you as you struggle under its weight, uselessly grunting as your heavy boots slam against the powdery snow.

You can’t cry, not yet. You crane your neck in front of you again, knowing that as long as you could still go up, there was always hope. Only a coward would climb back down at this point, and you refuse to let your worst fears come true. Of never reaching the top. Of spending a lifetime sticking feathers to wax only to have been shot down by the very sun you wished to see.

Cold fingers grow damp in your gloves, and clammy feet start to throb. You whimper softly, closing your eyes to focus, dammit, focus.

Bits of white stick to your clothes, the mountain calling out to you. Pulling you into its eternal emptiness.

You refuse to let it speak.

With a grimace and one last burst of energy, you pull yourself together enough to give just a little more hope.

It doesn’t last long.

Those fears come back, only different this time. Imagining that instead of coming home a coward, you don’t come home at all.

No, you refuse to see it. Can’t imagine how long it would take before your family starts to worry about you. The looks on their faces, god what would they say?

The cold soothes you, now, because you know that once the heat comes fierce and swift that it truly is all over for you.

It’s in that moment, when all tangible hope has been lost, that you see it. A shining beacon in the distance, a swatch of black marring the blank canvas that enveloped you. You’re shivering and cold, but the flames of hope snake their way through your weary bones and you crumble. A person. There’s someone else up here and you found them.

You want to scream. In agony or in joy? You’re not sure. But, it all changes when you get close enough to see the still figure trapped in a layer of snow. Heavy boots lumber towards the figure, and you can’t help but fall to your knees.

No.

Thick, gloved hands shakily reach for the dark material. Cold. Just like everything else on this god forsaken piece of land. Your blood like molasses, the amount of effort needed to take a small shovel out of your bag and dig into the ground around you. You carefully pull off the stranger’s goggles. An omen. A sign from god.

“OMG is that danisnotonfire? Haha wow I love your videos and wow this is-“ you stop, realizing that you are indeed speaking to a dead man. “Damn. Didn’t realize they were planning to tour on Everest.” You look around you at the barren mountainside. “Oh… well I guess that didn’t work out. Anyways nice to meet you.”

It’s then, standing beside a frozen danisnotonfire, that you feel yourself come alive again. You never got to see them on the Terrible Influence Tour because you spent all your time training on Everest, but the universe gifted you with Dan’s last TIT meet and greet.

Thinking about tits, you find the courage and embrace the white void, climb higher and higher until you finally reach that flag and scream. First, a garbled string of sounds that have built up in your chest since the day you decided to climb this mountain, and ending on one great sob.

You’ve done it.

You’ve gotten your TIT meet and greet for the phEverest show.

the mosquito i killed in the middle of the night stuck to my wall:

[janeyseymour]

Overheated

Summary: sometimes you faint. a certain someone is always there to catch you.

WC: ~2.3k

“Melissa, I’m fine,” you grumble as you roll out of bed that day. “Just PMS.”

“And you know how that shit knocks you out,” your wife mutters, although she does allow you to get up. She knows you’ve already used your sick days earlier in the year when you caught the flu.

“Well, it can’t today,” you grunt and groan as you change into your work clothes. “I can’t afford to not get paid, and I don’t want Mr. J as my sub again.”

“I told you, we can survive without one day of your pay if you really feel as shitty as I think you do,” Melissa tells you as she snakes her arms around your waist and presses a kiss to your temple.

You turn slightly in her arms to kiss her softly. “I know, but I really don’t need Mr. J teaching my kids that the moon landing was fake.”

“You know my thoughts on that conspiracy theory,” the redhead chuckles softly as she lets you go. When you grimace in pain, she mumbles to herself, “Can’t forget the heating pad and Midol today.”

“And Excedrin,” you whine.

“Hun, if your head is pounding too,” Melissa looks to you with sympathy.

You stand strong though. “I’m going. I’ll just teach with the lights off and from my desk today.”

“Stubborn as a Schemmenti,” your wife rolls her eyes. “I swear.”

“I am a Schemmenti now,” you quip with a smirk before you feel a shoot pain that causes you to wince.

“And I am so thankful for that,” Melissa promises you as she kisses your head again. With that, the two of you head down the steps for breakfast.

Your breakfast is, while painful, a wonderfully quiet and warm haze. Your wife all but forces you to sit at the table while she prepares the coffee and meal, along with handing you the hot water bottle for you to hold to your abdomen.

As you leave for work, you would venture to say that you feel slightly better than you did when you first woke up. Still, you know you probably shouldn’t push yourself too hard. You vow to yourself (and your fiercely protective spouse) that you’ll do everything you can to teach from your chair today.

For whatever reason, your students are completely out of hand today in every single way. From the second they step into your classroom, you can tell it’s going to be a terrible day- a day where no matter how much you want to resign yourself to sitting in your chair, you simply can’t. You find yourself hovering over your students no matter what their assignment is, pacing the aisles that you’ve created in your classroom. It’s terrible- completely and utterly horrid. You can’t sit with your heating pad, you didn’t even bring a hot water bottle, your head has started to pound again with the class’s volume. It’s absurd.

When lunch time comes around for your students, you practically drag them down- hopeful for a full lunch period of peace and quiet in your classroom; you’ve already decided that you aren’t making it to the staff lounge today. Instead you’ll take your wife’s teasing at the fact that you are so unwell that you couldn’t even fathom coming to have lunch with her.

But of course, because as the universe decides, you don’t get to treat yourself to a quiet lunch. No, instead, you’re running around like an idiot trying to make sure that you’re students all have lunch, and when you think you’ll be able to go for the last ten minutes to eat your lunch in silence, you’re pulled into an issue surrounding your student who hasn’t had lunch money for the past two weeks (a problem unknown to you).

You go in circles with Shanae for a few minutes before you finally roll your eyes and fork over the money in order to get him a lunch and placate the irritable lunch lady.

“Coulda done that in the first place,” she grumbles as she snatches the money from your hand and begins to count it.

At this point, you only have about five minutes left of your lunch time. There’s no use in going to back to your classroom- not when you would just have to turn right back around. So instead, you sit in the hallway for the last few minutes before leading them back down to your classroom.

You think to yourself that you’ll just eat while your kids have their special, only to realize that you indeed do not have a special. You lost the only time to yourself today. You sigh as you instruct your students to get out a book for five minutes while you collect yourself again.

Hastily, you reach for your phone, hoping to convince your wife to bring you your meal from the staffroom. Upon the device lighting up, you see quite a few concerned messages from Melissa.

You coming down for lunch?

Hun?

I’m coming to your room.

Did you leave early?

And then a few minutes later, the last text comes in. Saw you in the cafeteria. Love you.

Sorry, you respond. Had an issue with Taijon’s lunch and left my phone in the classroom. Do you think you have a few minutes to bring me my lunch?

I can’t, your wife texts. I don’t have prep today- with the gym teacher out. I’m sorry hun. Are you okay? I can have Barb head down during her prep?

No, no, don’t bother her. I’ll be fine.

Are you fine?

I will be, you send before setting your phone down and starting class again. 

It turns out, as luck would have it, that you are indeed not fine. Despite the Diet Coke that you put into your purse this morning for an extra jolt of caffeine, your head is still pounding, you’re absolutely exhausted, and your cramps are only getting worse. Whether they’re getting worse because your period is incoming or if it’s because you haven’t eaten anything other than the few bites of breakfast you could manage because of your nausea, who can say. 

Your wife sees how pale and slightly green you look while you’re dismissing your students. She knows that tonight is going to be an early night, one with a heating pad pressed against your abdomen, and in turn, hers because you’ll be laying on top of her.

“How’re you feeling?” she still asks you as she makes her way over.

“Fine,” you grumble. “Just want to get home.”

“As soon as all of the kids are gone, we can sneak out. Yeah?” You can only nod.

It’s a few minutes later that all of your kids have left the school grounds, and you sigh in slight discomfort as you make your way back into the school. You’re starting to feel warmer and warmer, and the redhead has an arm around your waist the entire walk down to your classroom, where she gathers your things for you and slings them over her shoulder. And then the two of you are making your way down to her classroom. And while you really did think you were fine- that you just had to make it home before collapsing onto the couch and staying there until it was time to retire for bed- but it turns out you aren’t. You start to stumble just slightly as a wave of dizziness hits you to accompany the hot flash you seem to be in the middle of. 

“Hun?” Melissa’s eyes quickly dart to you as she feels just the slightest shift in weight.

You’re able to catch yourself on her doorframe. “I’m good. Just a little-”

And then you go down. Melissa’s one arm isn’t strong enough to hold you up as you faint in her arm. To her credit though, your wife does try to grab you with her other hand. Unfortunately, she’s not quick enough, and her engagement ring manages to catch on the skin of your cheek as she flounders to reach for you and cuts you.

“Fuck!” your wife yells out loud enough to attract the attention of the teachers who have also come inside. Barbara is the first one to run to Melissa’s room- only to see you on the floor with a bloody cheek that is now spilling onto the carpet.

“Oh dear God!” the kindergarten teacher sputters as she kneels down beside you and the redhead. “What happened?”

“I- I don’t know,” Melissa mutters as she lays you down on your back. “She hasn’t been feeling well, but I-”

You open your eyes groggily, only to groan at the florescent lights hitting you. You screw them shut again.

“Mi amore,” your wife mumbles as she presses a tissue to your cheek. Then she turns to look at Barbara. “Can you grab me her bottle of water?”

No sooner is your water bottle straw being brought to your lips as Melissa props you up, and you take a sip quickly. And then you’re trying to sit up on your own and pull the tissue catching your blood from your face. Strong hands just keep you on the ground though.

“Lis, I’m perfectly-”

“Did you want to finish that thought?” the redhead interrupts you. “Did you want to finish blaming that you’re perfectly fine? Or are you going to faint again?”

You jut out your bottom lip as you succeed in pulling the tissue away from you cheek. “Be nice to me,” you pout. “I’m injured, and not feeling well.”

Green eyes are rolled with such love. “Oh, so now you admit it? There’s blood on my floor.”

“I’ll clean it up.” You go to move, but once again, you’re glued to the woman holding you in her arms.

“Like hell you will,” Melissa mumbles as she presses a kiss to your unmarked cheek. “What you will be doing is laying on the floor for a few minutes while I clean it up, and then we’re going home.”

“Dear, why did you faint?” Barbara asks as she switches places with the redhead. “Did you eat today?”

You hum softly as you take another sip of water. “I had a few bites of breakfast this morning, but that’s all I could manage.”

“No wonder you passed out. Why didn’t you eat lunch?”

You shrug.

“Or ask one of us to bring it to you?”

Again, you shrug. “Didn’t want to be a bother.”

“Next time,” both older women grumble. “Be a smaller bother than fainting after school.”

“Noted.”

It’s only a few minutes later that you’re feeling well enough to sit up on your own. And when you go to stand, you find that you’re instead being swept off your feet and into the arms of your wife.

“You’re not fainting again,” Melissa tells you sternly. She whisks you out of the classroom and in the direction of your cars, leaving Barbara to follow along with all of your belongings.

“Guys,” you grumble, although you do wrap your arms around Melissa’s neck and lean into her slightly. “I’m fine.”

“Fine my ass,” Melissa huffs as she sets you down in the passenger seat. She turns to the kindergarten teacher and takes both of your belongs before sighing. “Thanks for the help, Barb.”

“Anything for family,” the woman smiles sweetly, although then she turns to you with a stern look. “I do hope that you won’t be making a habit of this though.”

You turn red under Barbara’s steely gaze. “I won’t.” 

Since that first incident, you’ve been a lot better about taking care of yourself- although you do have to admit that sometimes you’re only remembering to take care of yourself because of your wonderful wife (and Barbara, at times). You don’t end up fainting at school again- thank goodness.

Well, that is until you’re attempting to hide the fact that you’re pregnant. You and your wife had only recently discovered that you were with child.

It’s May- an unusually hot month that you’re sitting in a school without air conditioning. You can feel the flush in your cheeks as you’re sitting in the staff room with your coworkers, your wife’s hand resting warmly on your thigh.

“Off,” you mumble as you practically throw her hand off of you and begin to fan yourself with your hand.

The redhead looks at you, clearly confused, but then she sees the red in your cheeks, and she knows you’re going through a hot flash- one of the few symptoms that you’ve had of this pregnancy so far.

“Are you-” and then you go down.

Melissa, who had dealt with this a few times (the first time being when you had passed out and she forced you to take a test), moves in a calm and purposeful manner. She has the lollipop to help with the nausea that is bound to overtake you, your water bottle, and then she’s down by your side quickly.

“She’s eating!” Barbara shouts in disbelief. “How could she faint?!”

When you come to a few seconds later, you let out a heavy sigh. “I did it again, didn’t I?”

“If you knew you were getting overheated, you should’ve asked for an ice pack like you do at home,” you wife tuts.

“Sorry,” you mumble as you take a few sips of water.

“This isn’t good for you or the baby,” Melissa sighs, entirely forgetting where she’s at in the moment. The only thing she cares about is you.

“The what?!” Jacob practically shouts, being the first one to hear this news and let it sink in.

“You’re with child?!” Barbara cries not a moment later.

You bite your lip and look to your wife, who is about as red as her hair. “Uhm… surprise?”

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[woso-story]

Bad Driver

Alexia Putellas x Reader

It was a crisp Friday evening, and the anticipation of date night had you buzzing with excitement. Alexia, your longtime girlfriend and the love of your life, was getting ready in the bedroom while you paced the living room. The plan was to drive to your favorite restaurant, where you’d made reservations days in advance. Usually, Alexia drove her sleek Cupra, but tonight, you felt a spark of rebellion—you wanted to drive for once.

When Alexia emerged, radiant in a fitted blazer and her signature confidence, you smiled and said, "Babe, I’ll drive tonight."

Her eyebrows shot up. "You? Drive?" she asked, her tone light but her expression anything but.

“Yes, me. Why not? You always drive. Let me take the wheel this time,” you replied, grinning.

But Alexia didn’t hand over the keys. Instead, she shook her head with a nervous laugh. “No, no. It’s fine. I’ll drive.”

Confused, you stepped closer. "Why not? It’s not like I’m a bad driver or anything."

She hesitated, her gaze darting away. "It’s not that. I just… prefer to drive myself, that’s all."

Her response only deepened your suspicion. You crossed your arms and gave her a pointed look. “Alexia, you’re a terrible liar. Just tell me the truth.”

Alexia sighed, running a hand through her hair. After a long pause, she finally muttered, barely above a whisper, “I don’t think you’re the best driver.”

Your jaw dropped. “What?”

She winced, clearly regretting her words. "It’s not a big deal! It’s just… every time you drive, I get a little nervous."

“Nervous?” you echoed, bewildered. “Why would you be nervous? I’m a good driver."

Alexia bit her lip, as if debating whether to continue. Finally, she said, “Well, you’re often over the speed limit. And you’re late on the brakes… like, really late. Sometimes I think we’re going to hit the car in front of us. Oh, and there was that time you drove over the curb and scratched my rims. Twice.”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. “You noticed that?”

She gave you a sheepish smile. “I… might have had them repaired. Twice.”

Her confession hit you hard. You couldn’t believe you’d never noticed how nervous she felt. The thought that she didn’t trust you to drive her car made your heart sink. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” Alexia said softly, stepping closer. “You’re amazing at so many things, mi princesa. Just… maybe not driving.”

Her attempt to lighten the mood didn’t land. You felt embarrassed and hurt, retreating into silence. The drive to the restaurant was quiet, the usual easy conversation replaced by an awkward tension. Even dinner felt different, with you picking at your food and Alexia watching you with worried eyes.

---

The dimly lit restaurant, usually your haven of laughter and love, felt muted. Alexia’s gentle attempts to pull you out of your shell failed to break through. Her jokes felt forced, and her compliments only deepened your self-consciousness. As dessert arrived, Alexia reached across the table to take your hand. "I’m sorry if I upset you. That wasn’t my intention."

You nodded, offering a small smile that didn’t reach your eyes. "I know. It’s just… hard to hear."

As you left the restaurant, Alexia stopped you by her car. “Here,” she said, holding out the keys.

“What?” you asked, frowning.

“You’re driving us home,” she said, her tone firm.

You shook your head. “No way. I’m not doing it now."

“I had a little too much to drink,” she countered, giving you a small smile. “It’s up to you now.”

You hesitated, suddenly suspicious. “Was this your plan all along? Get me to drive so you can complain about how bad I am?”

Alexia laughed, but her expression softened. “No, I just want to show you that I trust you. You’ve got this.”

With a sigh, you took the keys and got into the driver’s seat. The drive home was smooth, largely because you were hyper-focused on every move—checking mirrors, braking early, and staying well under the speed limit. Alexia’s amused glances didn’t go unnoticed.

“You’re doing great,” she said, her voice full of warmth.

For the first time that evening, you felt a flicker of pride. That is, until you reached the garage of your apartment complex. As you turned the corner, Alexia shouted, “Careful!” but it was too late. The screeching sound of metal against concrete filled the air.

Your heart sank as you parked and got out to inspect the damage. Sure enough, the rim was scratched—again. Tears welled up in your eyes as you turned to Alexia. “I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for the repair this time.”

Alexia walked over and pulled you into a comforting hug. “It’s okay, mi amor. It’s just a rim.”

“But I ruined it… again,” you mumbled into her chest, tears streaming down your face.

“Shh,” she soothed, stroking your hair. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re perfect to me, rims and all.”

---

Back in the apartment, Alexia made you tea and held you close on the couch. Slowly, your embarrassment faded. She didn’t try to fix the situation with words; instead, her steady presence spoke volumes. The warmth of her embrace and the rhythm of her heartbeat calmed you.

“Thank you for being so patient with me,” you said quietly, your voice thick with emotion.

She kissed the top of your head. “Always. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you replied, snuggling into her.

After a few minutes of silence, a laugh escaped you. Alexia tilted her head, curious. “What’s so funny?”

“I always wondered why you never let me drive,” you said, grinning. “Now I know.”

She chuckled, pulling you closer. “You’re the perfect passenger princess, mi amor. Let me drive you wherever you want to go.”

Smiling, you nestled into her embrace, the tension of the evening finally dissolving. With Alexia, you knew you were safe—in love, in life, and yes, even in the passenger seat.

[ariahmichelle]

Phoning It In- Drew Starkey x actress/reader

You sat in the brightly lit Elle magazine studio, a mischievous grin spreading across your face as you reached into the bowl of folded slips of paper.

The Phoning It In segment was straightforward—draw a prank scenario, call one of your friends, and see how they react. You’d already done two ridiculous pranks, but when you unfolded your third prompt, your excitement kicked up a notch.

The slip read: “Say you’ve been asked to go on Love Is Blind and want to put your acting career on hold for it.”

“Oh, this is going to be good,” you said, laughing to the camera. “I’m calling Drew Starkey for this one. He’s going to lose his mind.”

Fans loved speculating about you and Drew. Your friendship had been under scrutiny for months, with fans pointing out how close you were off-screen. You’d both laughed it off in interviews, but recently, your feelings for Drew had started to shift. You’d been noticing his laugh a little more, catching yourself smiling at his texts for longer than usual. So this prank? It was the perfect opportunity to see how he’d react.

You dialed his number, nerves bubbling in your chest. After a few rings, Drew picked up.

“Hey, you,” he said, his voice warm and familiar. “What’s up?

“Hey, Drew. Um… I need to talk to you about something,” you said, trying to sound hesitant.

“Oh no. This sounds serious. Did you finally get banned from craft services?”

“Drew, I’m being serious,” you said, injecting some urgency into your voice, while trying to contain your laughter.

“I just… I’ve been offered this opportunity, and I wanted to get your opinion”

“Okay,” he said cautiously. “What kind of opportunity?”

You took a deep breath, setting the stage. “I’ve been asked to go on Love Is Blind.”

There was a beat of silence before Drew burst out laughing. “Wait, wait, wait. Love Is Blind? You? Oh, this is rich. Are they doing a celebrity edition or something?”

“No, it’s the regular one,” you said, feigning seriousness. “They reached out to me, and I think it’s a sign. I mean, I’ve been so focused on my career—maybe it’s time I try something new, you know? Like, find my soulmate.”

“Your soulmate? Through a pod?!” Drew was cackling now, but when you didn’t laugh along, he hesitated. “Wait… are you serious?”

“Yes, Drew!” you said, trying to sound exasperated. “I think this could be really good for me. But it means I’d have to take a break from Outer Banks for a while.”

“No. Nope. Absolutely not,” Drew said firmly, his tone more serious now. “You can’t leave Outer Banks. Are you kidding me?”

“Why not?” you asked, pretending to sound defensive.

“Because, for one, you’re too talented to leave all of this behind for some reality show. And two…” He paused, his voice softening. “The show would be awful without you. Like, genuinely terrible. And if you’re gone, who’s going to keep me sane on set?”

“I’m sure you’d manage,” you said, fighting to keep a straight face.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Drew said, his voice growing more animated. “Okay, you know what? If it comes down to this, I’ll just marry you myself. Problem solved. No pods, no weird dates, and Outer Banks keeps you. Win-win.”

Your breath caught at his words. “What?”

“I’m serious,” Drew said, laughing but also sounding genuine. “If that’s what it takes to keep you from leaving, I’ll do it. You’re not leaving, alright? End of discussion.”

For a moment you have to mute yourself to let out a laugh while Drew continues to rant but then there’s a second of silence on the end of the line and the tone of his voice shifted slightly, quieter now. “I mean… I don’t want you to leave. I don’t think I could do this without you. Not just the show, but… everything.”

Your heart raced as Drew trailed off, his words heavy with something unspoken. You weren’t sure what’s happening but you definitely didnt want it caught on camera so you quickly unmute yourself and let out an exaggerated laugh, cutting through the tension. “Drew, oh my God! It’s a prank!”

“What?” he asked, clearly thrown off.

“I’m filming a segment for Elle,” you explained, laughing as you tried to compose yourself. “I had to prank-call someone, and you were the perfect target.”

“Are you kidding me?” Drew groaned, though you could hear him laughing on the other end. “You’re unbelievable. I just fake-proposed to you. You realize that, right?”

“Oh, I realize,” you teased. “And I’m definitely not letting you live it down.”

You’re evil,” Drew said, laughing along with you, though you could hear the tension still lingering beneath his words. “You seriously had me going. I was about to start drafting a petition to keep you on Outer Banks.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” you reassured him, your voice light. “But thanks for the marriage proposal. I’ll keep that in mind if I ever decide to quit acting for real.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, his tone playful again. “Remind me to prank you back when you least expect it.”

When the call ended, you turned to the camera with a big smile. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you successfully prank Drew Starkey. Bonus points for the fake marriage proposal.”

Later that evening, as you were heading home, your phone buzzed with a text from Drew.

Alright, you got me good. But seriously, don’t scare me like that again. I’d miss you too much. 😅 Also, come over later? I wanna talk about something.

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at the message. Whatever Drew wanted to talk about, you had a feeling it wasn’t just about the prank.

——————————

Let me know what u think? Requests are also open, check who I write for before requesting! 💗

[arias-diaryy]

Soft Underbelly

Nobunaga Hazama x Reader

Synopsis: The samurai has pride in keeping his prize safe (despite how terribly he’s doing it).

Warnings: yandere, fem reader, mentioned physical abuse.

3.4k words ... my first fic in a long while, big big big thank you to my beta reader who also came up with the synopsis lmfao

 Under normal circumstances, there would be a back and forth before bath time. 

Nobunaga’s working the third round of shampoo into your hair, grumbling under his breath when he still finds debris in your locks. Considerably less, given all the work he’s put in, but he still finds a stray leaf in your hair. He flicks it out of your head, brows furrowing. There isn’t any water in the tub, he’s just been rinsing you off over and over with the handheld showerhead.

It’s cold, and normally you’d be afforded the luxury of warm water. This time, Nobunaga was more interested in getting you clean rather than waiting for the water to heat up. You’ve been without clothes too many times in his presence to still feel overly embarrassed about it, though that doesn’t mean you’re comfortable about it. Nobunaga is crouched on the ground outside of the bathtub, washing you as if you were a labrador covered in mud. His sleeves still got water on them despite being rolled up to his elbows, and his hair is pulled back into a low ponytail to keep it out of the way. If he’s leered at you, you haven’t noticed. You’ve been desperate to avoid eye contact.

When he holds the showerhead up and over your body, the water runs down clearer than it did the last few times. There was dirt before, being washed away by the soap and pressure of the water. You and Nobunaga both internally cringed when the water ran red the first few times; you even moreso when the soap got into the cuts and scrapes littering your skin. He fussed over them, still does, you don’t expect anything less. Every cut he sees, he clicks his tongue and asks where it came from. “I don’t know” quickly becomes your default answer.

You wonder if he feels any bit vindicated, seeing you with blood and dirt under your nails, and twigs in your hair. All those “the outside world is too much for you” talks replay in your head, and your nails begin to dig into your palms out of frustration.

“Don’t do that.” Nobunaga says sternly, having caught the motion in his peripheral. You’re shaken out of your frustration, uncurling your hands. He’s perceptive enough to catch that, but not enough to realize that you want nothing to do with him? He furrows his brows a little more, his hands still in your hair and lathering it up with the shampoo. It smells like fruit, it smells girly. Juvenile, almost. 

“I’m not doing anything.” Nobunaga doesn’t say anything to you, removing his hands from your hair and grabbing the showerhead again. He makes a point of angling it more towards your face, and you flinch when the cold water hits you like a hard smack. You shut your eyes as the shampoo suds roll off your head and your face. One of his hands returns to your head, tousling up your hair and rinsing the shampoo out of it. The near icy water doesn’t help with your shivering, and you don’t think you’re in any position to be asking for hot water.

“I’m not a dog, I can bathe myself.” You say, halfway under your breath. Nobunaga might have rolled his eyes, but to do that, he’d have to momentarily stop looking at you, something he isn’t keen on doing.  “I didn’t say you were one.” He doesn't address your stewing emotions, no matter how clearly they’re scrawled across your face. You have half the mind not to respond with a snarky comment. 

There’s a pit in your stomach. There’s been one for quite a while. You assumed it was anxiety, but now you think it could also be an ulcer. Sometimes it gets so great that you think there’s really something wrong with you. Sizzling, contorting, creeping its way up into your chest. You felt it most in the first two weeks, and it’s waxed and waned since then. It’s spiked considerably from the moment Nobunaga found you again to now. It isn’t helped by the fact that you were expecting some sort of punishment; a sick retribution from him for trying to leave, and it has yet to come. 

…The fact that your escape lasted less than 6 hours probably has something to do with how he’s behaving. Oh, he’s annoyed, you didn’t need to be told. Though, you suppose he didn’t expend enough effort in finding you to truly be outraged. Nobunaga had found you in the woods behind the house, having yanked you out of the hollowed log you squirmed into. In the moment, it seemed like a good enough hiding spot, once you had the horrifying realization that he wasn’t that far behind you. For all the metaphorical and literal slaps on the wrist you got from him, you can’t be faulted for thinking he’d have more of a reaction to you trying to leave him.

In retrospect, it would have been smarter to travel alongside the road by the house and hitch hike. But wasn’t that too obvious? Nobunaga had been out of the house at the time of your escape, you didn’t know when he would come back. What would you say if the car he stole came driving down the road, and he saw you with your thumb out like a dumbass on the side of the asphalt? Plus, you thought you would’ve had a few days to make some distance. If you knew he’d be coming back tonight, you would’ve waited.

You’re pretty sure your previous comment wasn’t an invitation to conversation, yet Nobunaga begins talking anyway. “I can’t believe you, the one thing I told you not to do,” he chides. “and you didn’t even make it that far.” Nobunaga says it with a bit of humor, as if underneath his irritation, he finds this a little funny. Of course he does. Your hair feels like rubber with how much shampoo has been in it, and you despair internally when Nobunaga goes to put another dollop of it into your hair. “You’re lucky I found you before you got seriously hurt.” He scolds, roughy lathering the shampoo into your scalp one last time for good measure.

Despite it all, he’s still acting too flippant for your liking, you had expected him to… well, you aren’t sure. You’ve been on edge since before you even ran away, waiting for the eventual blow. Sure, he’s raised his voice at you and dragged you the whole way home, but you were still waiting for the worst of it. You thought he’d show his anger more, you did escape after all. The one thing he specifically forbade you to do.

(He also forbade you from locking doors and going near the stove without his supervision, but actually getting out of the house and making a break for it seemed more serious than any of the others). 

You shut your eyes to keep shampoo from entering them, but it’s too late. They sting almost immediately and you let out a small hiss of pain. So much for tear free. Nobunaga leans closer, pausing in his lecturing. “Are you crying?” He asks in a less stern tone of voice. “No!” You say, but you doubt he believes you. After all, you are tearing up. You blink a few times, and there’s tears in your eyes, which are now red and irritated. Nobunaga brings his hand closer to wipe your tears away, and you flinch. He grabs your upper arm to keep you in place, and you tense up more than you knew possible.

“Are you sure?” He asks again, and you don’t like the way he’s saying it. He’s talking to you like you’re a kid who got caught in a lie. “You got shampoo in my eyes!” “Uh huh.” Nobunaga hums, disregarding your declaration and wiping your tears away with his free hand. Your eyes are really red, he thinks. Maybe a drop of shampoo did get in them, though he remains unconvinced that you aren’t at least a little regretful for trying to run away from him. You aren’t that heartless. You go to rub at your eyes, and Nobunaga grabs your wrist to stop you. You flinch again, and he clicks his tongue in irritation.

“Would you stop being difficult?” Nobunaga says, taking a firmer grasp of your wrist to emphasize his point. “I’m not being difficult.” “You are, you’re acting like I’m going to hit you.” “Are you?” You ask, and Nobunaga only looks at you like you’re challenging him. “Should I?” 

You take a moment to respond. You can’t think of a smart answer, and although none of them feel outright wrong, none of them exactly feel right, either. “If I were you, I’d hit me.” It’s not a lie, if you were just half as deranged as Nobunaga, you probably would hit yourself. Nobunaga pauses for a moment, then laughs. As if it was some punchline to a joke. You aren’t as unsettled as you are relieved that he didn’t actually put his hands on you. At least he found it funny?

If you were him, you wouldn’t have deemed yourself worth the trouble. You would have gotten rid of yourself a long time ago, replaced yourself with another woman. One that looks similar enough to you, if appearances mattered. Yet everytime you would correct him, insist that you weren’t his girlfriend or anything of the sort, he’d wave you off and go on with whatever he was doing. You aren’t sure what he sees in you, it’s never stuck, no matter how many times he’s said it.

“You shouldn’t say things like that.” Nobunaga finally says. “I already said before, I don’t want to hurt you.” You want to roll your eyes. He’s the one who brought the topic up. Sure, it’s not like he ever punched you in the jaw or anything, but he has a knack for manhandling you every now and then. Nobunaga keeps on talking, not that you had a reply or anything further to add to the conversation. He’s back to being stern with you. “Don’t think you’re off the hook yet. I’m still mad at you. What you did was stupid.” “I know.” You mumble, avoiding his harsh glare.

“You’re not going to do it again.” He says, more firmly this time. With the same lack of energy, you reply “I won’t”. Nobunaga looks like he has more to say, but stays quiet. A distinct smell of smoke and burning food wafts through the hallway and into the bathroom. The food Nobunaga tossed into the oven an hour ago… 

He curses under his breath, his eyes going from the hallway to you. “Stay here.” He says, rising to his feet and leaving you in the bathtub alone, still with shampoo in your hair. You take it that it’ll take him a while to salvage dinner, so you take it upon yourself to finish your bath. You make sure to twist the shower handle to warmer water before taking the showerhead to get the shampoo out of your hair and eyes. The pit in your stomach hasn’t gone away, and the prospect of charred food for dinner isn’t easening your pain. You hadn’t spent long enough outside to be that hungry for Nobunaga’s culinary prowess, or lack thereof. 

-

There was zero chance of Nobunaga scrapping dinner to just order takeout. In fact, that chance most likely plummeted to the negatives given the stunt you pulled earlier in the day. Still, dinner wasn’t a total waste. You could eat around the burnt pieces of chicken, which were few and far between. The rice was stickier than you would’ve liked. You doubt Nobunaga would be letting you handle the cooking for a while, it’s practically a given that certain privileges would be rescinded. Temporarily, you hope, but rescinded nontheless. 

At least the vegetables came out fine.

Nobunaga sits down at the foot of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. He looks over at you, laying flat on your back in bed with the blanket covering you. Your feet poke out from under the covers. Soft and warm, scratches on your soles. There’s a cut on the bottom of your left foot; it looks more like a thin slice of flesh was scraped clean off. Nobunaga can’t take his eyes off of it. He knows it’ll heal, but he can only run through all the different ways you garnered that injury.

He stares at your foot in his hand, brows furrowed. A sliver of him was impressed, perhaps a little endeared, that you were still clinging to this idea of not needing him. It was almost laughable, even more so given the state you were in when Nobunaga found you. Cold, exhausted, and hungry, you had somehow gotten two of your fingernails ripped off in the short time you were away from him. All that, and you had the gall to look at him as if he was somehow inconveniencing you by bringing you back home. You’d even tried to bite and scratch at him like some animal.

You really could be an ungrateful brat, sometimes. Maybe you were onto something about him hitting you. 

If anything, he’s only more convinced of how pathetic you are. Endearingly so, but pathetic nonetheless. You deserve an achievement for managing to scratch yourself up so much in a few short hours without him, truth be told. Not that he enjoys seeing the cuts on your body, but he does consider himself a little bit smart for not letting you have shoes of any kind, even ones for inside the house. You probably would have gotten much farther if you weren’t out there with just some thin socks.

Nobunaga shifts a little closer, gingerly taking your left ankle and foot in his hands. The foot with the nasty cut on the bottom. He didn’t want you picking at it or even looking at it, so he’d made sure to bandage it properly. If you were awake, you’d jolt like a spooked animal and try to kick at him. Though he’d always known you as a light sleeper, you don’t even stir when Nobunaga touches you. That’s good, he thinks. You need the rest. All that scrambling in the forest probably took out all of your energy.

Even looking at your sleeping face now, it’s hard for the samurai to imagine that just hours ago you were shrieking at him to let you go, to not bring you back home. He’d spent almost an hour painstakingly removing every splinter of wood caught in your feet and hands; all while you were squirming and trying not to kick at him reflexively. Another hour was spent getting the rest of you cleaned up. It’s almost like you’d prefer being out in the cold than being kept warm and safe with him. It’s so preposterous, he could almost laugh at the thought.

…Though, he can’t pinpoint any other reason for you acting out. Unless that’s just what it was, misbehavior for the sake of it. Maybe you wanted more attention? That seemed plausible to Nobunaga. He can’t imagine that you’re thrilled when he leaves your side to go on Troupe missions. When he returned, it was always to you looking miserable, only cheering up now that he returned to you.

(It was because he had a tendency to lock up the television remote in his absence to keep you from watching something he didn’t want you seeing, and the fridge almost never seemed to be stocked with actual food before he left you in your lonesome. He still hadn’t connected the dots).

(...Though the prolonged lack of human interaction did do a number on you, as well).

He knows that to some degree, this is his fault. He’s been too lenient with you, too soft. Uvo had made a passing comment once that it’d do him some good to instill some fear into you. Just a little, to keep you from misbehaving. Nobunaga let you talk back and maintain some independence, and you turn around and try to run away from him.

He gave you an inch and you tried to take a mile. If your ploy was really to get more of his attention, then you’d succeeded. Nobunaga can’t imagine not keeping a closer eye on you for the coming months. That, and he’d finally get around to putting some bars on the windows. His gaze lingers on you, on your foot resting in his lap. He wonders if you know how lucky you are, that it’s him who’s keeping you safe and not any other Troupe member. Someone like Feitan surely would’ve killed you, or at least made you wish you were dead. 

Nobunaga isn’t keen on taking a page out of Feitan’s book, though. He was generally averse to the idea of making you upset. He didn’t consider himself to be a bad man, one who hurts his woman. Sure, he’s killed more people than he can count and took great joy in it. He’s maimed women and children, and robbed people of all they had, all for the Spider. But that was different. It’s impersonal, and half of those people more or less deserved it anyway. Probably. Regardless, you escaping and making a run for it isn’t something he can brush under the rug, even if you totally failed.

A hot-head like Phinks, or even Uvo, would’ve broken your leg. Perhaps a bit excessive, you hadn’t made it far enough to warrant that in Nobunaga’s eyes. It’s like a part of you subconsciously didn’t want to go so far away. Like you wanted to be found. If you really hated him so much that you’d try to run away, surely you would’ve put some more effort into it. 

He could always just break your ankle, maybe both. Crude, brutish, almost, but that would get the point across. It wouldn’t be hard by any means. A flick of the wrist and it’d be done. Maybe he could wake you up before he does it, make you squirm a little. Perhaps you’d feel a fraction of the panic Nobunaga felt when he couldn’t find you anywhere; when he realized you’d ran away from him. 

The aftermath might be a little messy, but at least you wouldn’t be running away again. He could keep you like that for a few days, maybe you’d learn some appreciation then. It’d take Machi a while to get to his house anyway to fix you up properly. Maybe he wouldn’t even need her. You’d cry a lot, he’s sure. 

“What are you doing?”

Your voice, tired and having lost it’s previous bite, draws Nobunaga out of his thoughts. You’re still laying flat in bed, looking at him with your foot in his lap. You tense up, and he doesn’t miss the brief change in expression. You’re uncomfortable, and the man chalks it up to you being ticklish or something along those likes. Not that you ever claimed to be, but you always shyed away from his touch, always bit the inside of your cheek when he got close. Tensed up when his fingers brushed up against your neck or shoulders. It was cute.

Nobunaga doesn’t answer you right away, his thumb idly rubbing the skin of your ankle. It’s almost a soothing gesture. “Nothing, go back to sleep.” You retract your foot, and he lets you. He circles the bed, coming to the other side and getting in with you. You tense up, feeling Nobunaga slide in right next to you. You don’t move away, not that you had a chance to. Nobunaga presses himself against you, his arms wrapping around you.

You wince, being overwhelmed with his scent. In your brief time away from him, you’d enjoyed the smell of dirt and grass, and the wind hitting your skin. All things you never thought about too much, now feeling like luxuries. Your head is pushed into the crook of his neck, and the rest of you is too sore to do much about it. You suppose, if anything, that being in a warm bed is better than crawling into a log and trying to pretend the ants don’t bother you.

“You know I love you, right?” It’s something you’ve heard from him more times than you care to admit. You don’t say anything, only humming in acknowledgment. That isn’t enough, you know by now that he always wants an answer when he says he loves you. It sounds all too sincere, which ironically is the reason you hate hearing it. When he doesn’t hear a response, Nobunaga pinches your upper arm. So, to soften the blow of whatever’s in store for you tomorrow, you tell him what he wants to hear.

“I love you too.”

[multifandomwriter126]

Fire and Ice||Ridoc Gamyln x GN!Reader

Summary — Ridoc and Y/n love to tease Xaden and Violet while ignoring their own feelings until Xaden calls them both out.

Reader is a fire wielder and their dragons name is Cináed and he’s a green dagger tail.

Word count — 954

No Spoilers in this!!

The flight field buzzed with the usual post-training chaos. Dragons stretched out on the scorched ground, riders sparred, and the low hum of casual banter filled the air. Ridoc sat perched on the edge of a rock , juggling a chunk of ice between his hands like he had all the time in the world.

“You know,” he drawled, tilting his head toward Xaden and Violet, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear the two of you are this close to announcing your engagement.” He held up his fingers a hair’s width apart.

Violet’s head snapped up from where she was adjusting her riding straps, her eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about, Ridoc?”

“Oh, come on,” Ridoc replied, his grin widening. “The constant bickering, the broody stares, the way you always stand just close enough that if someone accidentally pushed you, you’d fall into his arms—it’s like watching the opening act of a bad romance novel.”

Y/N, standing beside him, stifled a laugh. Ridoc was relentless, but he wasn’t wrong. “He’s got a point. The dramatic tension alone is exhausting to witness.”

Violet’s mouth opened, but Xaden cut her off, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, right, because you and Ridoc are the picture of self-awareness. Good to know you’ve got such a handle on relationships.”

Ridoc’s smirk didn’t falter, though his stomach twisted at the dig. “Touche, Riorson, but I don’t recall this being about me. Maybe I should keep track of your bickering for research purposes —Riorson and Sorrengail: A Study in sexual tension and bickering Violet turned fully to face him, her arms crossed. “We do not bicker!”

Ridoc raised his eyebrows, leaning slightly toward Y/N. “You hear this, too? Are we both hallucinating the daily arguments? Is it something in the water?”

Y/N snorted, shaking their head. “No hallucinations. I distinctly remember Violet calling Xaden a ‘condescending tyrant’ this morning. Very poetic, by the way.”

Xaden scowled, crossing his arms. “I wasn’t being condescending. I was being logical, which is a foreign concept to some people.”

“Oh, please,” Violet shot back, her face flushing. “You just hate when anyone disagrees with you. Admit it.”

“Me? Disagree? You’re the one who—”

Ridoc groaned loudly, cutting Xaden off. “Gods above, stop flirting in front of us! It’s unbearable.”

Xaden’s dark gaze swung to him. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, Gamlyn. Considering…” He trailed off, his tone going from sharp to smug in an instant.

Ridoc froze, the sarcastic comeback dying on his lips. “…Considering what?”

Xaden leaned casually against the railing, his smirk more lethal than usual. “Considering that you and Y/N are just as bad, if not worse. At least Violet and I aren’t in denial about our feelings.”

Y/N blinked, heat creeping up their neck. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Violet, clearly enjoying this turn of events, chimed in with a laugh. “Oh, I love this. Please continue, Xaden.”

Xaden didn’t need further prompting. “It means that every time you’re around each other, it’s like watching a storm trying to figure out if it’s going to snow or catch fire. And it’s loud—mentally speaking.” He tapped his temple. “The constant internal monologues are deafening.”

Ridoc coughed, the air around him cooling significantly. “I don’t know what you think you’re hearing, but I’m pretty sure you’ve hit your head one too many times, Riorson.”

“Really?” Xaden’s smirk grew sharper. “Because I distinctly remember hearing you mentally workshop a terrible pun ‘no wonder y/n is a fire wielder they are so hot’’ this morning.”

Y/N whipped around, their faces burning hotter than their flames. “You what?”

Ridoc opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Great. Just fantastic. Thank you, Riorson. Appreciate you airing my internal cringe for everyone to hear.

Xaden wasn’t done. “And Y/N? You’re not much better. ‘Why does his stupid smirk have to be so distracting?’ ‘Why does he have to look so good when he’s being annoying?’ Shall I go on?”

Ridoc tried to laugh it off, though his heart was pounding. “Wow, Xaden, ever think about a comedy career? Killing it with this routine.”

Y/N crossed their arms, glaring at Ridoc. “Is he right? Did you think that?”

Ridoc faltered, his usual sarcasm nowhere to be found. “Okay, look. Maybe Xaden’s not entirely wrong, but—”

“But what?” Y/N pressed, stepping closer.

Ridoc sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He felt the air grow warmer as Y/N’s body heat flared faintly. “But you don’t get it, Y/N. You’re… you. Smart, sharp, stubborn as hell. And me? I’m just the class clown. I didn’t think I even had a chance.”

Y/N’s heart skipped at the admission. For all of Ridoc’s jokes and teasing, there was something achingly sincere in his voice. “Ridoc, you idiot,” they said softly. “I’ve been trying to hide it, too.”

Ridoc blinked, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Wait. Are you saying…?”

Y/N rolled their eyes, stepping even closer until their warmth clashed with his chill. “Yes, Ice Boy. I like you. Are you going to do something about it, or should I?”

Ridoc’s grin turned playful, though his eyes were softer than usual. “I’d hate to step on your dramatic moment, Firefly, but…” He reached out, frost curling lightly over his fingertips.

Y/N grabbed his hand, the warmth melting the ice instantly. The spark that passed between them was undeniable.

Ridoc’s dragon Aetrom sighed heavily. “Finally. I was starting to think they’d combust from sheer tension.”

Y/N’s dragon Cináed rumbled in agreement. “Humans are so slow when it comes to their feelings”

Aetrom lets out a huff “painfully slow.”

[thus-wrote-mrs-zeppeli]

AHHHH HIHIHI !!

just wanna start by sayinh youre like one of my fav people on this platform i live and die for every post 😭💞

And i finally caught the requests so !!

Headcanons for various jojo characters with a reader who has a healing stand mayhaps?

Feel free to put whoever else in, i dont mind, but i'd love it if you could do bruno and diego, my bbgs fr 🙏

Hihihi!! Aaaaa thank you so much I am SO honored!!!! And when u mentioned Bruno and Diego r your bbgs I had a “did I just send MYSELF a request??” Moment lolol literally I had to physically restrain myself from calling Bruno my wife when Jojo came up while I was chatting with some people irl the other day lolol-

I love him and Diego so much! And YES, I can do this! Sounds interesting~

Bruno’s takes place before Giorno joins the squad

Content: for Diavolo and Diego: possessive and controlling behaviors, light depiction of injury

Various jjba characters x reader with a healing stand:

“Doctor! Doctor!”

Characters: Rohan Kishibe, Bruno Bucciarati, Diavolo, Diego Brando

Rohan Kishibe: You cannot BELIEVE he sometimes argues with you over healing him. Rohan has had a difficult personality for as long as you’ve known him, but really…you must insist you accompany him on his travels despite his protests. You’ve seen on more than enough occasions he’s liable to put himself in dangerous situations and get hurt. So you’re going with him.

He’ll always fight you on it, claiming it’s much easier to travel alone; but he has SOME nerve saying you in particular are difficult to travel with, because he always has some sort of grievance about almost everything when you go anywhere together.

You tell him if he didn’t put himself in harm’s way all the time you wouldn’t have to follow him around.

And even if he claims he won’t this time, you both know that’s not really a claim he can make. His inquisitive nature will Always get the best of him, so you will be there for when that curiosity inevitably gets him terribly injured in some way.

Thank goodness your man is difficult to kill…but he really needs to stop pushing his luck, it’s bad for both of you.

And despite him pretending your presence doesn’t change anything on his trips, he will try to be a little bit more careful when you’re involved. He thinks it’s because your constant worrying is irritating, but honestly he can’t bring himself to willingly lead you into something too dangerous. Most of the time.

Bruno Bucciarati: He will always consider himself responsible for the safety of his team, and the nature of your stand ability means you ease his mind when you’re near. You’ve seen his gang. They’re reckless, quick to get into fights, even with each other-there’s no need to worry about him but PLEASE do whatever you’re willing to do to make sure the others aren’t bleeding out from stab or gunshot wounds, or limping around with broken bones.

At Bruno’s request, you would always prioritize healing the injuries of the people he’s in charge of, but when the opportunity arises you will offer him some healing too.

He might not get nearly as bloodied and beaten as Mista does all the time…but you’ve noticed your dear Bucciarati seems to get chronic headaches, that especially intensify when he’s stressed about his work or managing the team. You never make a big deal out of it, don’t even mention it really, when you use your stand to ease his pain.

But he’ll always make a point to thank you. And gently remind you that he’s fine and you should focus your energy elsewhere.

You can only try to respect that for so long though. I mean, the reason your stand heals is because it’s in your nature to severely hate seeing your loved ones suffer.

And it’s not like he can be mad at you for caring about him. It’s just an unfamiliar feeling for him…he’s used to focusing all his attention on others and shouldering their burdens and taking care of them…so having you around trying to ease his pains…very unfamiliar, but not unwelcome.

It will take a while, but eventually he’ll grow comfortable enough to even ask for your healing touch when his pain is a little too much to bear on his own. But more often than not you’ll have to nag him to not push himself too hard and let you help him.

Diavolo: He considers it very fortunate you stumbled into his path. You consider it very Unfortunate. The Boss of Passione is an extraordinarily demanding partner, expecting absolute obedience and loyalty from you in return for his ��love” and protection.

You’re not sure when you even wanted to be in a relationship with him, but you’re in too deep now. Defying an obsessive and paranoid man like him at this point would only get you in even more trouble.

He’s smothering, constantly breathing down your neck and making sure you’re not planning anything, and when he does let you leave wherever he’s decided to hole himself up, Doppio is always accompanying you. You’re expected to heal him if anything should happen, but you know Diavolo only says that in a weak attempt to veil that Doppio is actually the one watching you.

Daring to reveal your stand in front of anyone that is not him or Doppio will get you in hot water with the entire Italian mafia.

But it’s not like Diavolo needs your healing…he’s never around anyone who can hurt him anyways! You really are some just in case tool he keeps in his pocket; so your life is incredibly boring, even if it’s safe. And moving around all the time for his anonymity’s sake is annoying and uncomfortable. What’s the point of your stand if you can’t use it to help people?! He Really hates that compassionate nature of yours. Makes sense, given how thoroughly selfish he is…The two of you do not click at all, but he doesn’t care. You don’t need to like him, but he’s not letting you leave as long as you’re an incredibly useful tool.

Diego Brando: He does so adore how useful his partner’s stand is…To cure any sort of fatigue and injury…such a boon to him! He wants you all to himself and he will NOT be sharing you. So don’t even THINK about flashing your stand to anyone other than him, he won’t forgive you if you do that! He’s definitely using you a bit to his advantage. But he takes care of you in turn, making sure you live a comfortable life and giving you whatever you ask for. All you have to do is follow his easy rule and he’ll be a sweet and doting husband for you. Simple, right?

It tugs at your conscience sometimes though. To sit quietly on the side while someone suffers, simply because your husband demanded it. But a part of you can’t bear even the thought of upsetting Diego, after he’s been so good to you…and all he asked for was one simple thing.

And he was just looking out for you by telling you to keep your gift a secret…He cupped your cheeks in his hands so gently as he reminded you how bad it would be if an evil person found out about your powers. You could be in a lot of danger, and he might not be able to save you. So please, don’t needlessly endanger yourself like that. He couldn’t bear it if anything bad happened to you.

Deep down you know he’s just saying that to keep you under his control, but you love him…and you honestly believe at least a part of him also loves you.

So you’ll bend to his will usually. But what Diego doesn’t know can’t hurt him. If you mend a broken bone or ease a sore throat on occasion he might not find out. And even if he does find out, how mad can he really get at that? (Pretty damn mad, but you have too much value in his eyes for him to deal Too harshly with you, despite what he might say in the heat of the moment).

-

Ngl I kinda blanked when coming up with additional characters, so I just went with some more faves, haha, the POWER of: “feel free to put whoever else in”!

[feastingonchrist]

Interesting how people say Christians are terrible people but in the same breath say that Christ was a good person and teacher (maybe not you op, but i have seen many non-believers say this). Like, yeah, we follow His example of how to live, what love is and what He defined it to be. Jesus is God. He lived a perfect and sinless life. He died for our sins to have justification before God and to have eternal life and to be with Him for all of eternity.

Now of course, there are people who call themselves Christians who don’t act Christ-like or bear any good fruit. These people may either not be saved, not take their faith as seriously or don’t understand the gospel. We are to live and love like He did. We are also supposed to die to ourselves daily and sacrifice our deepest desires that may go against what God has for us. No matter the cost. Believe me, it is extremely hard and even painful at times. We are not supposed to judge the world, but to share the gospel with those in need - everybody. Not agreeing with or accepting everyone’s actions or ways of living doesn’t mean we hate anyone. Jesus literally told us to do this. He doesn’t hate anybody, either. This is why He died for us. If you think Christians are bad people, it’s either because: the church hasn’t done a great job to the greater public in stewarding love and kindness to the world and many people have been hurt due to false teaching and unbiblical practices, (and i can 100% sympathize with that), or, it also may be because you don’t understand who He is and how powerful He is in loving and healing us. Or maybe you just don’t agree with the fullness of His teachings because, while, yes, He is 100% love, He also convicts and teaches us His way in how we are to live. That’s the fullness of the gospel. I used to feel that way too before i came to Christ. But He absolutely changed my life and we love Him because He first loved us.

We (me and others) as Christians should be walking in His love and giving that out to others, too. A huge amount of us DO do that. It’s just overshadowed. So i disagree that you think all Christans are terrible people because it isn’t true. However, i can’t convince you of that and i think you are 100% entitled to that opinion. Just showing you that there is a “good” side of Christianity too - because that’s how it’s supposed to be. That’s His heart for the church and for the world. If we have Christ in us, we’ll act like Him. By His own standards. With grace, love, kindness and all the other fruits of the spirit. If we allow ourselves to and for Him to work in us (i know some do not and end up taking His name in vain and tarnishing His reputations, which ruins the whole point.) That makes me sad. I hope my tone wasn’t mean or off-putting, i meant everything genuninely and lighthearted. But i felt that it was appropriate to say this because people have the wrong idea of what Christianity is and automatically assume we are all the worst people in the world when it’s not the case. Especially if we truly are following Him and taking His Word seriously.

Idk who needs to hear this but you ARE a bad person for being Christian and you need to stop.

[lady-harrowhark]

my 4.5 year covid-free streak has officially ended 😔

[isthatafuckinggayangel]

I wanted to continue this thing that I wrote for @cod-dump (hope you don’t mind me tagging you lmao), just kinda expanding upon the concept of Nik being Soap’s father and getting into more of the meat in the idea, so here

~~~

Explaining to Ghost and Gaz everything that had gone on between Nik and Soap, their relationship and all, was exhausting. The number of questions they had took forever to get through and made Soap think a little too hard about what why his mother had caused this.

At the same time though, it made him realize he needed to call her to get all the information straightened out here. He needed to know why she did it. Why she separated him from his father.

So, a few days after he had gotten everything sorted with Nik and the team was on the same page with everything, he made the call. He had both Ghost and Nik sit in on the call with him, he couldn’t get himself to do it without some support and he needed to have Nik there to make sure any lies didn’t slip passed him. The trio were sat around the dining table in the common room, Nik and Ghost on either side of Soap. He pressed the call button and made sure it was on speaker, holding it in his left hand still.

“Tha e math cluinntinn bhuat a-rithist, John. It’s been too long since ye called!” She answered the phone with.

“Sorry ‘bout that. It’s been quite busy out here, so I haven’t had the chance.” Soap rested his forehead in his palm and Ghost ran his hand along his upper back in a soothing motion.

“Is there somethin’ goin’ on, a chuilein? Ye sound a bit upset.”

“Yeah, um, I’ve been thinking a lot and had a few questions fer you, if that’s alright?”

“Of course, it is! Ask away.”

He took a deep breath then went for it. “Why did you tell me my da abandoned me?”

There was silence on the other end. The seconds stretched for what felt like forever.

“Well, that’s because he did. He made it very clear to me that he didn’t want to speak to any of us, and as much as it pained me, I knew we had to respect his wishes.”

Soap saw Nik’s fist clench out of the corner of his eye and looked up, seeing an expression of barely concealed rage. Soap set his phone on the table, reaching over and grabbing his father’s hand to try to help calm him.

“Ma, do you remember what he does for work?”

“…What do you mean, John?”

“I need you to be honest with me. Why did you lie?”

He was met with more silence.

“I dinnae lie, John.”

“Ma. I’m givin’ ya one more chance to be honest. I need you to take it.”

“I don’t understand, I’ve been honest-“

He let out a sigh before laying it all out. “I met him again, Ma. Ye seem tae have forgotten what he does fer work. We work together now. I read his journal, ma. I know what you told ‘im. I know you lied to both of us. So why? I just wanna know why you did it.”

“It’s a very complicated situation-“

“Bullshit. I know a complicated situation when I see one, and this is not one.”

“John-“

“Не лги нашему сыну, Elspet.” Nik growled. He’d clearly had enough of her avoiding the question she’d been asked.

“Nikolai, I-“

“You will answer the question the boy asked. You will not disrespect him or diminish his intelligence by acting as though you do not understand what he is talking about.”

They were once again met with silence. Ghost moved closer to Johnny, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and holding him against his side.

“I was tired. Your father’s job took a toll on me, on our family, and I couldn’t handle it anymore. The entire time you were away from me, every summer, I was so scared his job would follow him home and I wouldn’t know because you were so far away. I needed to have you close to make sure you were okay. That you were safe. I couldn’t think of anything else to be able to do it.” She paused. “Look at where that’s gotten us now. You enlisted for the same damn job and now ye work together. Guess it couldn’t truly be avoided.”

Soap was seething. While he understood being afraid for your child’s safety, he couldn’t get passed the manipulation. The lies. The fact that she didn’t just explain that that was the problem. He could have kept up with phone calls, letters, something so he wouldn’t lose his father. And yet, this was the decision she had made.

Nik squeezed his hand and Ghost hugged him a bit tighter.

“John?”

A deep breath. “Thank you for your honesty. I’m gonna need some time to process all that. I’ll call you again soon, yeah?”

“Yeah. I love you, John.”

“Love ye too, ma.” He hung up the phone and rested his head against the table. “Christ, that sucked.”

“Are you alright, love?” Ghost asked.

“I’ll be alright eventually. Just gonna need some time.” He picked his head back up and looked over at Nik. “You alright? Cannae exactly be easy for you to hear either.”

He gave a light nod. “I’ll be okay eventually, малыш. It will take time, as you said, but it will be fine.” He squeezed Soap’s hand again and Soap did the same back. “У нас все будет хорошо.”

~~~

Translations

Tha e math cluinntinn bhuat a-rithist, Johnny. -> It’s lovely to hear from you again, Johnny.

A chuilein -> my lad

Не лги нашему сыну -> Don’t lie to our son

Малыш -> little one

У нас все будет хорошо -> We will be okay

Apologies for any incorrect translations, the Gaelic is done with google translate and the Russian is a different translation app, so chances are there’s something wrong with it. Let me know if you have any corrections on it!

[arolesbianism]

Welcome to the “they’re just like me fr (derogatory)” club featuring no color because I would rather die than draw Sif with color

[danielnelsen]

things aren’t going well with peach. while i think my dad’s very right to be concerned that she hasn’t eaten anything in nearly 60 hours (obviously i am too), im becoming increasingly concerned that she hasn’t slept at all in around 36 hours and prior to that she was under anaesthetic, which isn’t exactly restful, so it’s closer to 48 hrs

like dad took her back to the vet today and we’ve got injections for her painkillers now because she’s not eating, and also injections for fluids (because she doesn’t drink; she only gets water from her food), so the not eating is Bad but also kinda under management, but if she doesn’t sleep soon i’m extremely worried. dad was like ‘if she doesn’t eat by tomorrow afternoon we’ll take her back because the injections will run out’ but like. if she doesn’t sleep tonight we have GOT to take her back first thing in the morning so they can sedate her or something

[cavity-collector]

i genuinely need to be put down like a dog i cant do this anymore man holy shit

[chilapis]

Last post before I crash and no-one hears from me until I return from my first final the morrow’s eve (a changed man no doubt) but there’ll never be anything funnier to me than consistently being viewed as a composed and calm saviour by peers while I’m, actively and uncontrollably losing it.

[hsslilly-blog]

hollywood u never specified what addison’s mother is sick with, or if it’s terminal; just that she’s really sick, right? rather, that she has been really sick (for a while). personally, i’ve always read it as if it were terminal. lmao not surprising. anyway you know what that means *hits her with dead parent beam*

[missmouse43]

6 weeks of breathing clean air, I still miss the smoke…..

🏝️🤙🏄🏾‍♀️🏄🏼‍♂️💔