#it's fine i'm fine everything will be fine

[rawme-price]

New here, just found your blog and have been binging it lmao. I was wondering if you'd do more wolf hybrid!reader? I'm invested and hope you've still got some ideas :D

What about wolf!reader who interprets everything as a command??

Youve been with them for a few weeks, and ghost is starting to get concerned. You do everything asked, no matter what. Which, really wouldnt be a problem, some lieutenants would love you. Except you do *everything* asked. No matter whether said ask was made as a joke or a teasing comment.

If soap whines from the couch that hes hungry, and everyone ignores him as he asks them to make something, but he finally asks you? Then ur up and in the kitchen. A bit of people pleasing, but fine. Then later ur sat on the couch, enjoying a documentary when kyle comes up and says "move." He expects you to tell him to fuck off, as is standard between the guys at this point, but you just nod and shuffle onto the floor. Okay, slightly concerning.

It becomes alot worse, though, when someone comments on ur sparring. Ur new, no where near ghost or prices level, so they tell you you should be practicing or training in ur free time, right? Except all you *have* is free time. You dont have the paperwork requirements of higher ranks, and you dont have any social obligations, so you just....train. again and again each day.

None of the others notice this, of course. Not when you hardly talk to them and checkins with price consist of "how was your day?" And a silent thumbs up from you. You improve, who wouldn't when they spend 9 hrs a day working on something? But ur also alot hungrier. Its fine, u usually grab a protein bar from the kitchen, until when you duck in to grab one soap is already there.

"Ah swear we just got these! How the hell are we already out?" He seems frustrated, glancing up at you he waves the empty box around "hey, you let me know if you find whoever is eating all of these, ill set 'em straight." So....you stop eating them.

It's difficult, tearing ur body apart each day on just the meals provided in the mess, never really full. It comes to a head when ur sparring with ghost again and with just a shove you fall to the mat. He expects you to get back up, maybe flustered by the trip, but you dont. He leans down, then promptly swears under his breath.

You passed out, cold. When ghost lifts up your form to cary u to the medbay, his lips purse at the bony press of ur spine along his arms, wondering how the hell he missed this.

[satorus-princess]

oh, it was like life was playing the most twisted prank on you as revenge.

and you were hoping, pleading, praying to any and every deity, that it was all just a prank. eyes blurred with tears flitting to cold, chapped lips.

“i love you, baby. i'll see you later, ‘kay?” the words satoru always said to you before leaving for missions, paired with a gentle kiss to your lips and your forehead. and, similar words when he came back home to you: “i'm home, baby. i love you.” before he fell asleep on you.

and one day, you decided to play a cheeky prank on him, just to see what his reaction would be.

his usual routine of letting his lips linger tenderly on the skin of your forehead before drifting down to your lips. he smiled and you were able to feel the loving gleam in his eyes despite his blindfold.

“i love you sooo much. don't miss me too much, okay? i'll be back before you know it.”

“mhm, be safe, ‘toru.”

he was making his way out of the room, then paused at the doorway and tilted his head back towards you. “i will! i love you,” he emphasised the three words this time.

“okay, see you soon,” you smiled as if there was no slyness twinkling in your eyes.

his long legs brought him back to the bedside in a couple of seconds and he knelt beside the bed, where you sat. “baby,” he almost whined, thumbing his blindfold and tugging it down. he gave you a look that even puppies wouldn't be able to muster. “my sweetheart, the light of my life, the love of my life, my reason for everything... why are you torturing me?”

“whatever do you mean?” you couldn't help the giggle that slipped out.

“you know exactly what i mean. i can't go on a mission without hearing those sweet words from your even-sweeter lips.”

you giggled again. “fine, fine. i love you so much, ‘toru. i'm just playing with you. you know i love you more than anything.” you cupped his cheek, tilting his face up as you leaned down to kiss him gingerly, letting your lips melt against his.

“mmm, much better. now, i have my good luck with me,” he grinned.

after that, you made sure to always say it, even if you were half-asleep or on a mission of your own - you just called him and he would do the same for you.

except, not this time.

“say it back, please, just one more time.” salty drops fall onto his pale cheek as you kneel beside him, both of your trembling hands clutching one of his gelid, still ones.

you would do anything to hear him say those sweet little words one more time. or say anything at all, but now, his lips were left parted, not even a breath exiting. maybe even brush your tears away like he always would, but now, those lithe fingers which were always so reverent with you don't even twitch. or gaze at you with his beautiful, cerulean orbs like you were the most precious thing in the world to him, but now, those same eyes were lifeless.

“i love you, i love you, i love you,” you repeated as if that would bring him back, as if it'd bring forth the same words from his lips instead.

oh, how cruel fate could be.

[whimsicalwritersstuff]

── The Chicken incident.

Pairing: gumpy!Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: you're soft, a little impulsive, and deeply in love with your chickens. Joel… is trying his best.

Content warnings: Contains chickens, domestic chaos, stubborness, rural home outside of town and a LOT of flapping.

Word count: 668

Notes: I've had this cute little idea for soo long and I've been debating about it if I should or should not write it but went for it anyways, I loooved writing this one soo much and I hope y'all enjoy reading it as much as I did!! ^^ 💛💛

The first mistake was telling Joel you were just going to look at the feed store.

The second mistake was brining your wallet.

By the time you pulled into the driveway with a cardboard box chirping on the passenger seat, you knew you were dead.

"It's fine," you whispered to yourself, lifting the box out of the truck with both hands. "He loves animals. He loves me. He won't even be that mad." The chickens chirped louder, as if mocking you.

You tippptoed up the porch, box tucked in your arms like a sacred offering, hammering with both guilt and joy.

Joel was already waiting at the door.

Grey t shirt, scowl in place, arms crossed. Classic 'i heard that truck the second it turned on the gravel" stance.

"Tell me that ain't what I think it is," he said flatly.

You gave him your sweetest smile. "They're babies, Joel."

"That's a box of chickens."

"Six chickens," you clarified, as if that helped. "All hens. No roosters. Perfectly quiet. Very cute."

He blinked.

"You told me you were goin' for birdseed."

"I did get birdseed!" You nudged the brown paper bag with your foot. "For these bjrde. So technically -"

"You brought livestock into our house, honey."

"They're babies," you repeated, like that solved everything. "Little peeping marshmallows." You carefully opened the top of the box to show him. Six fluffy chicks blinked up at you, golden and downy and completely unaware of the tension in the room..

Joel stared into the box like it might explode.

"They're not even outside animals yet," you said quickly. "They'll need a warm crate inside for a few weeks. I'll set it up in the laundry room."

"So we're raisin' birds in the same place I wash my jeans?"

"They won't poop on your jeans."

"You sure?"

You hesitated.

Joel exhaled. "I should've known this would happen the second you walked into that damn sore in overalls and a Pinterest board..."

~~~

By the time evening fell, the chicks were tucked happily in a cozy crate under a heat lamp, and Joel had retreated to the porch with a beer and a deep sigh of resignation.

You joined him not long after, settling into the chair beside him, hands still smelling faintly like chick feed and sawdust.

He gave you a side glance.

"You love those damn birds already."

"Of course I do. They're babies, Joel. They chirp when I talk to them."

"You talked to 'em for twenty minutes."

"One of them leaned her name."

Joel took a sip of his beer, mumbling, "Jesus Christ..." But hisjps twitched in amusement. You leaned your head on his shoude. "You'llove them eventually."

"I won't."

"You will. You're gonna name them and build them a coop and everything."

"I'm not building no chicken castle."

You patted his thigh affectionately. "We'll see."

~~~

The next morning you were halfway through breakfast when a wild screech echoed from down the hallway, followed by a crash and a very loud southern:

"What the hell is that doin' in the shower?!"

You dropped your toast and sprinted to the bathroom.

There, stood a very bold, very unbothered chick, peeping wildly, wet feet leaving muddy prints on the porcelain edge of the tub.

Joel was half naked, dripping, holding the shower curtainike a shield,face somewhere between exasperated rage and absolute disbelief. "WHY is there a chicken in the shower??"

You clapped ahand over your mouth to keep from laughing. "Oh my god, peaches!"

"Peaches?! You named it?"

"Shes adventurous!'

Joel looked at the chick, then at you, then at the chick.

"She watched me get in the damn shower. Then she got in with me."

You stepped forward, scooping peaches into your hands like a contritle toddler. "She must've hopped out of the crate, I swear I closed the lid!" Joel wiped a hand down his wed face. "That he's saw me naked."

You giggled. "So what?? You're handsome."

Joel gave you warning glare.

~~~

That night,

Joel sat in the Livingroom, reading a manual on chicken coops, you passed by holding peaches, "she apologized for the shower thing." You said sweetly.

Joel didn't look up. "Tell her she's grounded."

"You're such a good chicken dad,"

"I'm not their dad. I'm their victim."

You leaned down and kissed his cheek. "Sure, daddy."

He glared. "Don't."

You winked and walked away, Barbara peeping softly.

Soon you and joel sat on the back porch with coke and beer respectively, watching the hens peck lazily in the grass. Joel sighed, his arm around your shoulders.

"They're a menace."

"They're our girls."

"You spoil 'em more than you spoil me."

"They'll lay breakfast. You just steal the covers."

He smirked. "They don't make you scream my name in the middle of the night."

You choked on your coke. "Joel! The chickens are right there.."

He kissed your cheek. "They don't speak English."

[flofaiiry]

it's a garden life // michael robinavitch x reader

part one · crysanthemums (wc. 1.5k oops)

[series masterlist]

Robby thought himself to be a gentleman.

He walked on the outside of the sidewalk, pulled out chairs and held open doors- everything his father taught him he should do for a lady. And one of his father's most important lessons? When you're going on a date- you bring flowers.

Robby hadn't been on a date in a while. Thought maybe he'd just aged out of it, the whole dating charade. But when he bumped carts with a woman at the grocery store, striking up a conversation that turned into an exchange of numbers and names and the promise of dinner soon? His mind has been changed. Maybe he wasn't too old for this.

Ever the working man, he'd brought a change of clothes so he could go straight from the hospital to the restaurant he'd chosen- Alberts- a new bistro on North Lincoln that he'd walked by once or twice. While the day to day of an emergency room attending didn't really allow for him to take a break, his father's words rang through his ears the closer the hour hand on the clock got to the end of his shift.

"If you want to make an impression, Michael? Make her smile? Get her flowers. Simple as that."

Damn. He needed to get flowers.

A quick google search led him to your website, and a scroll down the homepage told him you'd be closing in a little less than an hour. He shoves his phone back in his pocket before making his way over to Dana at central.

"Hey," he pokes her shoulder, Dana glances up at him over the frame of her glasses, one eyebrow raised. "I'm gonna run a quick errand. Should be back in..." he looks down at his watch and sucks in a breath, "shit, uh- shift change? You think you guys'll be ok?"

Dana nods, a little skeptical, it wasn't like Robby to leave work for anything- much less for an errand. "We'll be fine," she says, before shutting the tab she'd been working on and turning to look at him, "everything okay?"

"Yeah," he breathes, pressing his lips into a half smile, "I'll be back." He pats the side of her arm before turning to head out the ambulance bay. Your store was only around a ten minute walk away, and he could shave that down to eight if he picked up the pace.

So he did. And an earlier than expected seven minutes later, he was pushing open the door to the boutique. A little bell alerted you of a customer's arrival and you looked up from the arrangement you were working on. "Hi!" You offer warmly, he smiles and mouths back his own greeting. "Did you need a hand finding anything?" He shakes his head, "no, thank you. Just gonna take a look around." You nod, "no problem! Let me know if you need a hand."

Robby maneuvers himself through the tight 'corridors' of your store, every useable inch covered in buckets of vibrant florals. He settles at a table near the back, full of various arrangements in different shades of pink and purple.

Longer than he'd like to admit goes by, and he is no closer to a decision. You spot his dilemma from a mile away- flower shopping isn't as easy as it looks. After a few more minutes of watching the man overthink, you decide to make your way over to him.

"Are you looking for anything in specific?"

Robby looks like he's snapped out of a daze at the sound of your voice, he turns his head over his shoulder to see you standing behind him. "Not really..." He hums, lips pressed into a line as he scans over your selection once again. "Got a first date tonight," he turns to you and shrugs, "not really sure what makes the best first impression."

"Well you're already ahead of a lot of men," you smile, "flowers are a great first step. Besides, even if she hates them it's the thought that counts."

"Right. Do women like roses?" He reaches forward and toys with the cellophane wrapping on a bouquet of red roses. You nod, but halfheartedly, "yeah, roses are nice. But they're a little much for a first date, you know what I mean?"

He furrows his eyebrows to tell you that no, he does not know what you mean.

"Roses are very... romantic," you clarify. Robby tilts his head, "isn't that the point?" You shrug, "sure, but other flowers can be romantic without being too forward for a first date- do you know her birthday?"

He sucks in a breath and squints like he's racking his brain. After a moment, "November. I think." He replies, "why?" A smile pulls at your lips and you turn on your heel, starting back through the shop. He's not quite sure why, but he follows you nonetheless.

"Chrysanthemums," you state, swerving just so around your workbench so your hip doesn't collide with the corner.

"What about 'em?" He asks, watching as you disappear into a stock room. "Chrysanthemums are November's birth flower," you emerge with three buckets full of flowers cradled formulaically in your arms, "women love when you know their birth flower."

"Birth flower?" He asks like you've just spoken a foreign language. You nod and set the buckets down on the floor, "every month's got a flower assigned to it. It's like your birthstone but... flowers! Goes back to the Romans, they thought certain flowers would bring protection and luck during the month they bloomed," you explain.

He nods, trying to absorb your words. "And women... like this?"

"Well I can't speak for all women, we're not a monolith," you tease. He opens his mouth to say something in defense of the comment but nothing comes out.

"All I know is that if a man got me my birth flower for a first date... there would definitely be a second date."

And that's all the convincing he needs.

"Chrysanthemums it is then."

You make small talk while you make a little bouquet, adding in some greenery and baby's breath to make it come to life. He asks if you own the store, to which you answer yes, bought it four years ago, used to be a run down hardware store but nothing a little TLC and pink paint can't fix. You ask him how he met the woman he's going on a date with, he tells you the story about how a cart collision in the dairy aisle spiraled into a conversation about how the potholes in the city really need filling and then into the proposition of dinner.

Robby watches while you work, takes in the way your hands move just as methodically as his do when he's throwing stitches or palpating an abdomen, but then, once you move the bouquet to wrap it in cellophane, he spots a folded up New York Times paper on the table open to the crossword and half filled in.

"You do the crossword?" He asks.

You nod, "every day. You?"

"I'd like to say I do it every day but it's more like a few times a week when I remember if I'm honest." He shrugs, eyes glossing over the page, seeing which words you've filled in and which you haven't. He stares a little too long at the page while you tie a ribbon around the wrapping.

"16 down," he starts, "it's fenestra."

"Hm?" You look up at him, a little confused before remembering the moments prior discussion of crosswords. You glance down to the newspaper and search for 16 down.

"Small anatomical opening, as in a bone," you hum, "can't say I've heard of a fenestra before." He smiles, "most people haven't." You quirk an eyebrow, "then where did you learn it, hm?"

"I'm a doctor," he says plainly. Then your eyes move from his face down to his torso where a little badge- clearly saying DOCTOR stares back at you.

"Right, sorry, stupid question- you're literally wearing scrubs." Robby shrugs it off, "don't worry about it," he smiles. With the finishing touches on the ribbon in the form of a curl, you pass the bouquet to the man standing across from you.

He takes it in one hand and reaches into his pocket with the other to fish out his wallet. You shake your head, "it's on the house, for helping me finish the crossword."

He looks up at you, jaw dropped just the tiniest bit in shock, "are you sure? I can pay for them, it's really no problem-

"-just, come back tomorrow or- I don't know- soon and tell me how the date goes." You cut him off and watch as the look in Robby's eyes soften from shock to gratitude, the emotions swirling in their dark chocolate colour.

He nods, once to let it set in and then twice for the affirmative. "Okay," he puts his hand out in the space between you, "we have a deal."

You smile, and shake his hand. The skin is rough compared to yours, but not harsh, just- weathered.

"Good luck on the date," you add, right as he's pulling the door open to leave. He turns over his shoulder to look at you, "I'm sure I'll need it," he teases, letting his eyes linger on your smile before he walks out the door and starts back for the hospital.

thank you for reading!!! plsplspls leave a comment/reblog with your thoughts it means more than you know!!! <3 <3 <3

[bioticgoddess]

It tells me they agree the Accords should be followed and enforced.

The Arachnid-Arachophobe Accords:

1. Outside is their world/domain. They leave me alone and I'll leave them alone, provided we are both minding our own business. This means they don't climb on me and I won't squish them (realistically I'm going to shriek and probably just brush them off in a panic but I know how fatal a fall can be when your skeleton is external.). Obviously warning me away from something important to them with aggression is going to make me fucking run if they are of appropriate size so y'know, go off.

2. Inside belongs to me [humans]. This includes houses, cars, motorcoaches, etc. I appreciate their assistance in managing pests that have infiltrated the inside. However, if they reveal their presence to me then I cannot guarantee their safety or continued existence. This specifically means crawling across something in my line of sight, hanging out too near my bed, dresser, or my person. Note: If I see webs but not the spider then we are Kosher and at most I will take down the web when cleaning but not kill the spider.

Exceptions: A) Sheds, garages, storage units and other liminal/transitional indoor-outdoor spaces that are separate from the overall living area are fair game. This is Neutral territory where we may both come/go as we please and should ignore one another, provided then don't make their home in or on an item of mine then we are fine (especially my bicycle).

B) Shoes. Spiders, I know these are dark and probably kinda damp little caves. Like some Aussies I know, I will continue to beat and stomp on my shoes before putting them on. DO NOT LIVE IN THEM. They are not yours and I don't want you crawling on my feet or biting me.

C) My computer...don't make a home in it please dear God. However, if any creepy crawlies do....kill them. If I could or knew how, I would provide a tribute for your work in that regard.

D) Pet spiders. I won't touch you no matter how much your chosen/assigned housemaid and butler insists. Carry on about your business and if you crawl on me, know that your human was warned not to let you do so MULTIPLE TIMES. If I panic it's on them, not you, and I will endeavor NOT to hurt you.

Note on Exception C: I lived somewhere that had really bad roaches shortly after college - I did not pick said apartment. We couldn't get rid of them and they started living in our large electronics...so everything not a cellphone, e-reader, or tablet. This included my laptop. They wanted the warmth and we're eating the adhesives used in its construction. Once crawled out from a fan vent when I was using and I nearly chucked said laptop across the room. At one point I noticed we had a lot of spiders in/around the building too and this was true of the place we lived next. They were working overtime and I hope those spiders got some kind of reward at some point.

[syrecjh]

okay so, this swiftie girlie just had another idea. i was listening to Call it What You Want and I was thinking of childhood friends to lovers kinda trope where reader and bakubabe have a necklace of each other's initials but like the class doesn't know they're actually together and they notice reader's necklace and idk up to you how everything's gonna be revealed. AAAAHHH the lyrics "I want to wear his initial on a chain round my neck, not bec he owns me, but cause he rlly knows me." is so CUTE and ADORABLE.

p.s. i'm also excited for the mutual pining request you have 😪 take your time tho!

__ ★₊˚﹟🪐 The Initial On My Neck

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ || katsuki bakugo x reader, pure fluff

You’ve known Bakugo Katsuki since you were old enough to toddle on chubby legs and steal the last cookie from the jar. Back then, he was loud, feral, and had a scowl that could curdle milk. But he never once pushed you away. Not when you colored outside his notebook margins. Not when you cheered for Deku on sports days. Not when you cried so hard on the first day of preschool that you soaked his tiny All Might shirt.

He just handed you his juice box and sat beside you like he already knew the world would make more sense if he stayed close.

He never left.

Years passed. You grew into that closeness like skin on skin. Side by side. Always. Through scraped knees, hero dreams, his temper, your quiet patience, and everything in between.

He gave you a necklace when you were thirteen—just a small “K” pendant on a silver chain. Said it was dumb and ugly and that it didn’t matter. But he looked away when you smiled too wide. You haven’t taken it off since.

You returned the favor when you turned thirteen. Gave him a bracelet with your first initial—simple, black thread, nothing flashy. He wore it every day until it broke during training, and when you teased him about finally taking it off, he shrugged and said, “Didn’t need it on my wrist when it’s already in my damn chest.”

He said it so casually you choked on your water.

Now you're both in Class 1-A, older but still orbiting each other like the world forgot how to pull you apart.

The thing is—no one in class knows you’re dating. You don’t hide it. But you don’t flaunt it either. Bakugo doesn’t hold your hand in public. You don’t kiss behind bookshelves. There are no heart-eyes or pet names.

But there’s a softness in the way he always saves you the last rice ball. The way you always end up paired together. The way he glares at anyone who stands too close, and the way your smile seems to know exactly how to calm his storms.

Still, the class is suspicious. Especially when they notice the K dangling from your necklace.

You wore it every day, he does to: a thin silver chain, subtle, but not so subtle that someone wouldn’t notice. Hanging from it, a small, worn letter “K.” They joked about it sometimes, wondering aloud what boy had dared to give it to you.

And Katsuki? He never reacted. He’d just scowl slightly and return to whatever was in front of him. But you noticed—how his fingers would tap rhythmically, jaw ticking, like he wanted to say something. You'd brush his arm beneath the desk. You were fine keeping it a secret. You didn’t need the world to know.

After all, you didn’t wear his initial around your neck because he owned you. You wore it because he knew you—deeply, wordlessly, and always.

It all unraveled, of course, the way these things tend to do—with a healthy dose of Class 1-A chaos.

You were all in the common room that Friday night. Someone had put on a movie no one was watching. You’re lounging on the couch, mid-stretch, half-listening to Kaminari and Mina argue over some new hero ranking poll when the attention swings toward you again.

“So, seriously,” Mina says, leaning forward with narrowed eyes. “That necklace you always wear—what does the K stand for?”

Before you can speak, Bakugo—seated on the floor in front of the couch, elbows on his knees, hair still damp from training—grunts lowly, “It’s me.”

You kick him lightly in the back, trying to play it off, but your face is already heating up.

"Yeah right"

The others laugh, brushing it off as just another grumpy Bakugo joke—until he leans forward to grab his water bottle from the coffee table.

His shirt rides up slightly at the neck.

And they see it.

A silver chain, faint but unmistakable, gleaming under his collar.

And tucked beneath it—just barely visible where his shirt slips—is a pendant. A letter. Your first initial.

The room goes dead silent for a moment.

Then Kirishima blinks. “Wait… hold on—did anyone else just see that?”

“See what?” Kaminari frowns, already rising from the floor like a bloodhound catching scent.

“That!” Mina gasps, pointing dramatically. “Bakugo has a necklace!”

Jirou squints. “No way. There’s no way he’d wear a necklace unless—”

“OH MY GOD,” Hagakure cries. “IT MATCHES HERS!”

Bakugo straightens slowly, clocking the way everyone is now staring at him. His brows furrow. “What?”

“You have a necklace,” Sero says, voice rising with every syllable, pointing with a shaky finger. “With her initial.”

Dead silence.

You could’ve heard a pin drop. Even Todoroki blinked.

“What—?” Kaminari sat upright, nearly knocking over the cards. “Like… you you both?!”

You just smiled, brushing your hair behind your ears. “Yeah. He just told you a while ago that he's the k in my necklace so...”

Sero gawked. “HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN A THING?!”

“Since forever,” Bakugo said, like it was obvious. He wasn’t even flustered. In fact, he looked annoyingly smug. “We’ve been together since second year. Idiots.”

“WHAT?!” came a chorus from around the room.

“I KNEW IT!” Mina cried, flopping backward onto Jirou, who immediately started grilling you for details. The rest of them erupted like a volcano—questions, teasing, Sero demanding how Bakugo got someone like you, and Kaminari threatening to make a PowerPoint presentation about the missed signs.

But you just laughed. Head thrown back, joy curling in your chest. You looked down at Katsuki—who was trying (and failing) to hide the soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He reached back, lacing his fingers through yours where they rested on the couch cushion behind him.

And across the room, the class tries to process the fact that love doesn’t always need grand gestures.

Sometimes, it just wears your initial around its neck.

And chooses you.

Quietly.

Fiercely.

Always.

And in that moment, surrounded by friends and noise and light, you felt it again—that sacred quiet that only existed between you and him.

Let them talk. Let them scream. Let them name it whatever they want.

You’d call it what you wanted: home.

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

I love Taylor Swift and I loved this request!! Had so much fun writing it—hope you enjoy it too!! Sorry it took a while to get this done, xoxo 💜

[killerblueeyesxprettybluedude]

stiles gets food poisoning, derek assumes real poisoning. stalks around beacon hills glaring at everything, trying to solve the case. food poisoning! it's right there in the name, stiles, what was he supposed to think? stiles lurching, deathly pale, to the bathroom, gagging and gagging.

“only two possible answers,” stiles says, when derek demands, what's going on. “either i'm pregnant, or i've been poisoned. there can be no other logical conclusion drawn from these…”

stiles stops, vomits, heaving and heaving, using half a box of tissues to wipe his mouth, eyes, nose, all while curled in a fetal postion and moaning miserably. “symptoms,” he croaks, pressing his face into the tiles before lunging upright for his second round.

any reasonable person would call melissa mccall, and they wouldn't be perfectly calm, either. stiles shrugging derek's hand off when he tries to take the pain, “dude i'm sorry but i can't be sick with you gripping my shoulder, and if i don't empty the chute soon i'll probably…” there’s another chaotic burst. “choke on it. thanks though buddy.” his eyes streaming, he's barely gasping. “appreciate it.”

how can that possibly be normal for humans?

derek's looked like that, felt like that—because he'd been near death. and he's still alive because he's stronger, because werewolves can heal from almost anything. in what logical world was he supposed to expect stiles to survive this?

it's completely reasonable. derek really doesn't appreciate everyone finding it so amusing.

even if it is a relief that they’re all so sure stiles is gonna be fine.

[askoverkill]

"What about your clothes, or anything you hold? Those aren't cursed, shouldn't people be able to see those?"

transcription below:

What about your clothes, or anything you hold? Those aren't cursed, shouldn't people be able to see those?

And what if you ate a sandwich-

Okay, that's enough. I'm Cursed. That's all you need to know, it's why I can't do anything. I'm barely a person like this.

Then we'll find a cure! We'll find one for you and Lupus, you both need to live normal lives after everything!

It's too late for me, but we got infinite time to figure it out for the both of you.

I don't know, dawn. Even if we have time, we're limited to just Dormont. Can we really figure it out?

We have to try. Odile is an expert at Curses, she'll find a cure for sure.

...It's not like I can really talk to her.

Then I'll talk for you. Can you please just accept our help? What do you have to lose?

...

...Fine. I'll join your blinding party.

Really?!

YESSSSS. Don't start gloating, I swear-

No, I won't. Hehe.

(Dusk has now joined your party!) (Duh duh duh duuuhhh!)

Wipe that grin off your face!!!!

What grin? I'm not smiling.

Ugh.

[burningcheese-merchant]

Golden Cheese's impromptu expedition to Beast-Yeast ends in catastrophic failure: beaten, broken, and clamoring for freedom as Burning Spice dangles her over the edge of a cliff, ready to deal her the final blow. But before he does... he stops. As does the wind. As does the spice storm whipped up by their frenzy. Everything, everyone, completely frozen in place... all except for her, and for the strange woman in strange clothes that suddenly pops out from behind her assailant, armed with an obnoxiously whimsical attitude and a pair of gigantic golden scissors.

The stranger, with an eerie smile and a twinkle in her one remaining eye, remarks that she has been watching Golden Cheese's little adventure with great interest, and is really rather displeased that the great battle against her nemesis had to end in such a way. She offers Golden Cheese not only an escape from Burning Spice's clutches, but a chance to start their clash over on... more equal footing, or so she describes it. When Golden Cheese rightfully demands answers - how, why, who even are you, what the hell is even going on - the stranger insists that she is but a good Samaritan seeking to liberate both her and her oppressor from their current circumstances.

Not knowing what else to do, Golden Cheese accepts her offer, albeit begrudgingly - but the moment she puts her hand in the stranger's own, she's wrenched from Burning Spice's iron grip and sent flying through a glowing portal filled with bizarre images of melting clocks and whirring cog wheels. She falls, and falls, and falls, until she finally falls out of this mind-melting void and onto solid ground - quickly realizing that she is still in the Land of Spice, just in a different location.

Shocked, confused, and consumed by righteous indignation, she is found and rescued by none other than Burning Spice - but not the one she's come to know and despise. This Burning Spice not only looked different, but behaved differently as well: this one was jovial, good-natured, eager to come to her aid simply because he saw her in need of it.

Well... that, and... because he thinks she's pretty.

Now Golden Cheese is stuck in a distant, idyllic past; a time long before the Beasts fell from grace, where they were still loved by the world and hailed as forces for good. She's taken in by the Wild Spices, whom are likewise shockingly friendly and accommodating towards her, even despite her initial hostility. Her mission is thus to somehow find a way back to where and when she came from (that crazy woman won't just take her back herself, she refuses to) while grappling with the personal and cultural clash between her and the Wild Spices, her crushing sense of anxiety and loneliness born from being trapped in a time and place entirely unknown to her, and - perhaps worst of all - the so-called Herald of Change coming to see her and flirt with her constantly, for his mission now is to court her and win her heart.

Meanwhile, in Golden Cheese's time, Burning Spice - her Burning Spice - knows full well that she is missing. Where she went, and how she managed to escape him, he does not know - but he will. He will spend every waking moment tracking her, hunting her down, gathering whatever information he possibly can to discover her where(when?)abouts. He will have his Soul Jam back. He will have the fight he is rightfully owed. He will have her, one way or another. If she wants to play this game with him, then fine; let this be his greatest, most entertaining hunt yet. One that will inevitably end with him catching and devouring his delicious prey exactly the way he's always wanted to, as was always meant to be, for there is nowhere his little bird can hide where Burning Spice will not find her.

Here's the first chapter haha. Hope you all enjoy it. And I hope you stick with it, the story is far from over. Also the summary on AO3 is cooler than this one. I'm sorry this one is so cringe

Also, everyone please give a round of applause to my wonderful and wonderfully talented friend @pythoticusbingle for making both the cover art and all the illustrations in the fic! I couldn't have done this without them, I consider them my right hand in this endeavor and they're behind just as much of the story's potential success as me

[mars4hellokitty]

We'll never have sex

Hockeyplayer!Vi x reader :)

| The notorious fuck boy has seemingly put her days of sleeping around behind her after getting in a committed relationship. But between her teammates and the reputation bestowed upon her, the pressure to please you becomes overbearing |

wordcount : 2k

cw : none really? angst if you squint really hard but other than that it's just tooth rotting fluff :p hurt x comfort. ALSO MY NATIVE LANGUAGE ISN'T ENGLISH SO PLEASE BE MINDFUL 🙂‍↕️🙏🏾

a/n : THANK YOU SO MUCH @applejusue FOR PROOF READING FOR ME MUAH ILY ALL 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

I just lost my ficginity guys 😓💔 I'm so so so so so so so so scared about posting this idk why it's probably like fine for my first try????? idk roast me to death or give me love idk idc um i don't think I'll write that much in the future??????? honestly who knows? ok i know I said roast me to death but dont be too harsh or I'll cry ☹️ OKAY HAVE FUN READING BYEEEEE

Milestones in relationships weren't something Vi was too familiar with, yet it felt like everyone around her had an internal checklist of these stages, which they expected their relationship to follow:

1. Dating

2. Officially being girlfriends

3. Saying ‘I love you’

4. Having sex

The hockey player was a notorious fuck boy in highschool, a reputation she has yet to be able to redeem. Because of this, her teammates are a bit…

Vi’s gaze traces up and down the aisle, trying to find something that you'd like. It was your anniversary and she wanted to get you something small to celebrate that, without the price hurting her wallet.

She grabs a box of chocolates she knew you loved, temporarily ignoring how many shifts at the Last drop it would cost her as she holds it gently.

Her teammate, Maddie, scoffs at her.

“I'd never spend that much money on such a prude.”

Vi's jaw clenches, teeth grinding together as she huffs through her nose.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I didn't think you had it in you man, a few years ago you wouldn't even have had a girl around for a week, let alone 5 months!” another girl shoots in, her seemingly sinister snicker making the other ones laugh all over again.

Her teammates laugh.

Like it was unbelievable that Vi would be with someone without putting her tongue in them.

“Just quit it, alright?” She huffs, pushing past them to get to the cashier. Pretending as though their words didn't feed her already growing insecurities.

Of course she'd thought about it, why you two hadn't done it already, were you just not ready? Did you not like her? Was she disappointing you?

Was she even worth more than what she could do for others?

Her mind churns and wanders, not noticing the line diminishing until the cashier has to gently bring her back to earth, waving a hand in front of her eyes.

Vi flinches slightly, putting the chocolate on the conveyor belt with an apologetic expression.

Her teammates had left her — How predictable — leaving her to take the long route to the dorms.

On the way there she made a plan, she had to. You were going to leave her unless she stopped being all sappy and just fucked you already.

———————————————————————————

You had prepared everything, walking around and decorating the limited space you had in your dorm before your girlfriend was coming over.

You had your friends on speaker as you paced around, excitedly showing them everything you had bought as you neatly wrapped her gifts.

“I hope she'll like it!” You say excitedly to your friends, grinning.

The friends look at each other slightly before turning to talk to you.

“Look… It's been 5 months right?” She says carefully, trying to gauge your reaction.

You nod, not quite understand where this conversation was headed.

“And you haven't had sex?” Her question earns a groan from you as you keep tidying up.

“No we haven't, there's no deadline is there?” You ask sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

You didn't get why people put this timeline in front of you for no reason. Why couldn't you two just go at your own pace?

You were aware of Vi's past, and had a healthy dose of skepticism before you two started exclusively dating but she proved herself time and time again.

By this point you trusted her completely, which is why your friend’s unnecessary comment annoyed you.

“We're just looking out for you girlie, intimacy is important you know!” She says, trying to cover for the other friend.

Just as you were about to respond, the doorbell rings.

“She's here! "Bye!" You hang up before they get the chance to say anything, rushing to the door with a grin.

———————————————————————————

Vi nervously shuffles from foot to foot, the plans that were previously swirling around in her head now plummet to the ground at the sight of you.

She's more nervous than usual, smiling sheepishly as you hug, wiping her hands on her pants when you aren't looking, running her hands through her hair enough times to probably make it greasy despite her definitely showering properly before coming here god why was she such a mess?

You didn't seem to notice, or maybe you did and just didn't want to comment on it. Maybe you found her so disgusting it turned you off?

“Do you like it?” You smile, showing her how you've decorated the place.

You pull her out of this anxious trance, as she looks around.

You had put in so much effort, for her? She hugs you gently.

“Thank you baby, happy 5 month anniversary.” You say sweetly, kissing her cheek gently.

Vi usually loves it when you kiss her cheek, it's a comfortable way to show intimacy, but now it's gotten to her. What if you kiss her other places instead of her lips on purpose?

Vi fidgets, picking at the skin of her scabbed knuckles.

You place the gifts you've wrapped neatly in front of Vi, smiling.

“Open it!” You coo, smiling as she takes the gifts, opening them.

The first gift is a bunny plushie dressed up as a hockey player, including the puck and the ball. You smile, proud that you got your girlfriend something she'd enjoy having.

A smile creeps up the pinkettes face. “Thank you babe.” Her hand reaches for yours, kissing it gently.

You giggle, enjoying her chivalrous ways of thanking you.

“I could thank you in other ways, you know?” Her voice gets low, watching your body language as she turns your hand, kissing up your forearm.

You shiver slightly, your breath labored ever so slightly.

“What- what are you doing?” the words slipped out, slightly shocked.

The pink haired girl freezes, looking up at you as she slowly pulls her lips away.

“I'm sorry I thought you wanted-” She begins, her eyes searching your face as the tears sting behind them.

A worried expression paints your face as you move closer towards your girlfriend.

“Thought I wanted what?” You ask softly, looking up at her.

“We've been together for almost half a year and we haven't had sex!” She blurts out, the words hanging in the air for a beat too long.

“There's no deadline, Vi.” You reassure her, grabbing her face gently, letting your thumbs caress her soft cheeks.

“But haven't you been waiting?” The pinkette asks, the statements from her teammates sticking to her like glue.

“To have sex? no?” You answer as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like sex was just something you randomly chose one day to want. Like it hadn't been plaguing your mind like her teammates said it had.

“But they said…” She furrowed her eyebrows.

“Who's they, Vi?”

“... "My teammates."

You groan, having made it clear that you've never liked them a long time ago.

“Violet Vanderson, listen to me alright?” You say sternly, yet your voice is laced with love.

“I’d love you even if you told me you never wanted to have sex” You say, matter of factly. Her eyes water as your thumb reaches up to wipe it away.

“You mean more to me than that, you know that right?” You reassure, search her face for any sign of her taking your words into account.

Her tough exterior finally crumbles, her face scrunching up as she cries, her face in your hands. You pull her into a hug, soothing her gently.

All those years, only being pursued for one thing, convinced her she wouldn't find someone who wanted her for more than that. Someone who would hold her while she cries in a kitchen decorated to celebrate their 5 month anniversary.

“I love you, not just what you can give me. I love all of you.” You cooed gently, kissing her hair.

“I love you too.” She sobbed, burrying her head in the crook of your neck.

———————————————————————————

You stay like that for a while,embracing each other as your hands drawing soothing circles on her back ever so gently.

When the pinkette looks up at you, her glossy powder blue eyes slightly red from all the crying, you simply smile.

“Do you want to sit on the couch? you still haven't opened the other present I got you.” You coo softly, kissing away the remaining tears.

Vi closes her eyes for a moment, soaking in the kisses, as if the soft plush of your lips would heal the wounds deep in her soul.

Without any warning she simply picks you up, playfully running over to the couch with you.

You laugh, playfully scolding her to slow down so she doesn't drop you. Your girlfriend gets the gift you got her as she sits down, placing you on her lap.

You turn to face her, straddling her lap to see her reaction better. “Go on, open it.” You urge her impatiently as she laughs.

“Calm down princess, I will.” She smirks, unwrapping the gift gently. The neat wrapping is undone carefully, a silent appreciation for your wrapping skills.

Her smirk widens into a smile as she opens the small box, finding a silver necklace with a violet colored stone inside.

“I know you don't wear these kinds of necklaces very often but it reminded me of you and-” her soft lips met yours before you were able to finish your sentence.

It wasn't rushed, heated, hungry or ranchy like she had planned it to be before she entered your dorm.

It was simple, sweet and loving, and she wouldn't want it to be any other way.

She takes notices of you smiling in the kiss, smiling as well. Vi’s unending stamina takes a toll on you as you gently pull away, needing air.

“So I take it you liked the gift?” You say in-between catching your breath.

“Liked is an understatement. I loved it, thank you so much.”

“I can put it on you if you want?” You suggest, gently taking the necklace out of her hands.

Vi nods as you lean in, breathing in the smell of your perfume as you lock the necklace.

You place a kiss on her neck, a gentle peck.

“It tickles,” she responds, grinning

“I love you” You murmur gently, pulling away

Vi hums gently in response

“The necklace looks really good on you, violet on violet.” You grin.

The pinkettes blue eyes roll at you, caressing your hips gently.

“Did you want to watch a movie?” You ask, turning around to reach for the remote.

“Sure, why don't you pick something princess?” She murmurs gently, placing her chin on your shoulder.

The tv glows gently as the time flies by as you watch the movie, occasionally switching positions as you talk about everything and nothing at all.

The credits roll on the tv screen, Vi spooning you gently. She peaks over your shoulder to check-in on you only to see you sleeping. She smiles, kissing the top of your head gently as she closes her eyes.

———————————————————————————

She's convinced their coach hates them when the fluorescent lights in the ice rink attacked her eyes early in the morning.

The harsh sounds of the ice-skating blades slashing through the ice echo throughout the rink, in sync with the swish from the hockey stick perfectly leading the puck through the different obstacle courses.

At some point during the practice you had come, holding a water bottle as you waved excitedly waiting for her to see you.

Her heart skipped a beat as her powder blue eyes met yours. You came to her practice, with water.

Such a small gesture, yet so considerate.

You really did care.

Your gaze kept Vi in a trance —well until Coach Sevika came over— momentarily distracting her.

Maddie skates up next to her, nudging her slightly

“Hey Vi, you got any action last night?” Maddie snickers.

Vi smirks “Why, do you need any tips?” She shoots back.

Her teammates all collectively ‘ooo’ and Maddie scoffs, crossing her arms.

“N-no! me and Caitlyn are doing just fine!”

“If you must know, we watched a movie and fell asleep.”

Her teammates quiet down.

“and that's.. that alright with you?” Another one of them quipped, gauging Vi's reaction.

“Yeah. We're taking things at our own pace. One step at a time.” She answers, smiling as she looks up at you again.

Besides, there's no deadline, is there?

Taglist : @lolitalovess @korn-dawg @usuck @wrappedinvines

[abcdfghjklmpqrobin]

I actually love the idea that people can tell Dick's emotional state just based on how cursed his outfits are.

You know, like how he wore DiscoWing during his darkest, emo-est time. "Ugly" fits just mean he's going through it...

On the good days Dick dresses like someone straight out of a Pinterest board; trendy clothes, subtle accessories and perfectly styled hair. But the moment his mental health starts declining– BOOM! It's bedazzled pants. Neon shoes. And patterned shirts.

The more outrageous and flashy Dick's clothes are the worse he's holding up.

It's like the warning light in a car. Everything is fine but if Dick walks in looking like David Bowie on acid then somebody should probably go check on him before he breaks down on the middle of the road.

Dick doesn't really notice that other people notice. He's just a guy trying to manifest happiness through his clothes –No, he's not sad. Could a sad person rock the shit out of Polka Dots?? Think not–.

Unbeknownst to him practically every person close to him has been conditioned to outfit-check him.

They will take one look at Dick and ask if he's doing alright. And Dick will be like "Yes?? I'm fine. You're like the third person to ask me today. Wonder why..." While wearing bright red leather pants, sequin boots and a cowboy hat.

[orionsstarlight]

I'm in the latter category of "creator chose not to use archive warnings", I don't mind putting some warnings in the tags but listing everything especially as I go on I find tiresome and irksome. I'm already putting maximum effort into the writing. Then the expectation to update all the tags as I go? No thank you. I am lazy.

I understand that a lot of people need the tags and that's fine, feel free to not read my fic etc. But don't come at creators for not wanting to post tags.

If you come across these fics, those with not enough tags or the no archive warnings, and it makes you uneasy. Just don't read it man. There's no pressure.

Spoilers suck.

I personally hate to know what's coming. Let me be shocked. If I hate it that much I'll go away from a fic and never return.

My consumption is my responsibility, not anyone else's.

She who dares.

This is a Moving Forward PSA for everyone using AO3. I am witnessing the results of a culture clash and communication failure. Not a lack of communication, but a misunderstanding caused by changes in fandom culture.

Before fic tagging was common, fics weren’t tagged. You had a pairing, if applicable, an author’s note about genre or general content, and if they were feeling charitable, a vague content warning. There are even a few genres of fic where even vaguely tagging literally spoils the plot and impact (such as horror, psyche thriller, in which the likely content is implicit to the genre). As a result, there is a basic category tag that permits this, as a courtesy to “old-fashioned” writers.

“No Archive Warnings Apply” means the fic is PG13 at worst, probably fluff, totally safe.

“Choose Not to Use Archive Warnings” is the polar opposite. It’s a glaring Enter at Your Own Risk billboard. It means: a shitload of warnings apply but I ain’t telling because this story requires shock value. It’s very important to read the author’s notes for those fics because they might be using that older format from above.

But without the context of fandom culture that generated AO3, it’s understandably easy to conflate the two categories, given their similar wording.

[cricket-reader]

Carving Skin Until My Bones Are Showing

Masterlist | A03 | Wattpad | Recommendations | Inbox | Taglist

Summary: You'd thought that everything was fine, until one overheard conversation shattered the illusion, your rose-tinted glasses fading to black. The words cut deeper than anything you've ever heard, and suddenly, you're re-evaluating everything: your relationship, your body, your worth. Now, the man you love with everything you have exists peacefully beside you, as if nothing's changed, while you slowly unravel in silence. You're left wondering if he's already halfway out the door, and you're just the last to know.

Warnings: disordered eating, fainting, body image issues, insecure!reader, misunderstandings, female reader (no y/n)

word count: 4,059

A/N: it's a few days late cause i kept procrastinating on making the banner, whoops | prompt fill for day 30 of @juneofdoom | "This is it isn't it" | Doubt | Crying

{Read on A03} | what i'm listening to

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Sam.”

Bucky’s voice carries across the room and into the hallway, voice laced with mild exasperation. Sam, sitting across from him with an unimpressed look on his face, takes a sip of his coffee. You smile at the sight of Sam, his presence a welcome, if not completely unexpected, surprise at the start of your morning. He must have gotten home early from the mission he was on.

“She’s just so clingy,” Bucky says. “She literally won’t leave me alone. It’s almost annoying at this point.”

You freeze in the doorway, smile slipping off your face in an instant. His words tear through your heart, leaving a hollow ache in their wake.

“That just means she really likes you,” Sam says, shrugging his shoulders.

Bucky huffs, rubbing a hand down his face. “You don’t understand, man. It’s bad, like really bad. I can barely get any of my shit done with her begging for my attention twenty-four seven. I just need some damn space to breathe sometimes.”

You didn’t think you were that bad. Sure, you really liked to drag him away from his work for cuddles—but that was only because you thought he needed the breaks. You know that he used to run himself dry, never letting himself rest until he practically passed out from exhaustion. You didn’t want that cycle to continue. It wasn’t like you forced him to do anything. He could always say no to you. In fact, he has said no to you a few times before—when the work was too important to shove aside for later. All those times he allowed himself to be pulled away, reluctant as he was—how many of those times had he been covertly annoyed with your insistence? How many times did he wish you would just leave him alone?

Your stomach twisted, guilt looming over you. He struggled socially, ran on a limited battery when it came to social interactions—why did you think it would be any different with you? Why did you think you were special? Of course, Bucky is sick of you. When’s the last time that Bucky had some time to himself without you bombarding him with affection and small talk?

“She’s spoiled, that’s what she is,” Bucky grunts, shaking his head. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes. Spoiled? Is that what he really thinks of you? How could he say such a thing? And to Sam, nonetheless. “She eats way too damn much. She’s been gaining so much weight recently; it’s honestly a problem. She ain’t gonna lose it any time soon either with how fucking lazy she is.”

Sam snorts. “Sounds like someone needs to go on a diet.”

“Tell me about it,” Bucky huffs before taking a sip of coffee.

A wave of mortification crashes over you, tears gathering in your eyes. Heart pounding, you take a shaky step back, determined to run back to your room before either of them catches you eavesdropping.

You race back to your shared room, tears blurring the hallway beyond recognition. Once in the safety of your room, you sink down to the floor, back pressed heavy against the door. Your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps as you press a hand over your mouth—as if that alone could muffle the sobs wracking your body. The betrayal is sharp, sinking its claws into your chest and twisting deep inside of you. How could they say those things about you? How could Bucky say those things about you?

You weren’t that clingy, were you? You just liked being close to him, liked the warmth of his presence, the way he always made you feel safe. And sure, maybe you indulged a little too much lately, but had it really made that much of a difference? Have you clung so much that Bucky has started to resent you for it?

The words replay in your head, each repetition hitting harder, sinking deeper. He sounded so frustrated—so tired of you. Like he was already pulling away, one step from slipping through your fingers completely.

And could you even blame him?

You’ve seen the women he works alongside, the kind of people who seem like they belong in the world. Strong, confident, beautiful. Not needy. Not desperate. Not… you. Maybe he was just now realising what you had known all along—that you weren’t enough. That you never had been.

A fresh wave of tears burns your eyes, but you swallow hard, forcing them back down. You wouldn’t let this be the end.

You could fix this.

You could give him space—stop clinging, stop being so needy. You could take up less room, be less of a burden. And if you skipped a few meals, if you pushed yourself harder, maybe you could be someone he actually wanted again. Someone he’d be proud to love, instead of someone he merely put up with.

You just had to be better.

You would be better.

When you emerged from the bedroom for the second time that day, you made sure to make your arrival audible lest you walk in on them still talking about you and your shortcomings. Whilst you couldn’t stomach any breakfast, you needed your caffeine fix. Bucky greeted you with a wide, beautiful smile and a kiss on the forehead.

It almost made you sick—the way he was able to talk about you like you were the dirt underneath his shoe, only to turn around and play the role of your sweet lover. How could he act like everything was okay when he clearly held resentment against you? It almost makes you wonder how long he’d put up with you for the sake of maintaining this relationship—how long since he’d noticed your defects and realised that he deserved better. You almost feel selfish for keeping him tied to you. Now that the secret is out, there’s no point in dancing around the subject. And yet… here you are. In a kitchen you share with a man who doesn’t love you like he used to, and the man he entrusted with his troubles over you.

Just a little longer, you pleaded. You just need a chance to prove your worth. Bucky won’t have to worry about your overbearing clinginess. He won’t have to be embarrassed to be dating someone of your stature. Bucky deserves the best after everything that he’s been through; you were determined to be that for him in whatever way it took.

You startle out of your thoughts from the movement at your feet. A white ball of fluff looks up at you, meowing incessantly. You reach down to scritch between Alpine’s ears. “Hey, sweetheart,” you coo at her, abandoning your quest for coffee in lieu of holding your baby girl. At least Alpine appreciated your affliction for affection.

You don’t miss the look that passes between Bucky and Sam.

Stomach churning, you suddenly don’t feel the desire to make your coffee anymore. In fact, you don’t even want to be in this room anymore. “I’m going to go over to Nat’s,” you say, hoping that Nat isn’t too busy today.

Bucky’s brow furrows. “Weren’t we going to see that movie today?”

Shoot. You had completely forgotten about that. “We can go later, Nat wanted me to come over right away in the morning.”

“Let me make you your coffee before you go.”

“That’s okay, I’m stopping to get some for Nat and me,” you say, dismissal clear in your tone. It would have made you feel bad to act this way before—before his cruel words effectively tore your heart and spirit to shreds. You gave your baby Alpine a kiss on the top of her head, promising her that you’d be back soon before seeing her back on the ground. You grabbed your purse and sped out of the door without even saying goodbye to the two men.

You spent the majority of the day with Natasha, dread curling around your insides every time you thought about going back home, back to Bucky.

You had promised him that you’d be back to see the movie; however, so, too soon for your liking, you say goodbye to Nat and walk back to your apartment.

There’s a vase of your favourite flowers sitting on the counter when you enter. You frown at the sight, not sure why he would bother when he’s obviously upset with you.

You walk into the living space to see Alpine curled up on Bucky’s lap, his work laptop abandoned on the coffee table. Bucky greets you with a smile, setting a protesting Alpine aside to stand up and give you a welcome home kiss.

“What time were you thinking of for the movie?” He asks, arms resting around your waist.

Frustration begins to creep into your chest. If he had a problem with your clinginess, why is he initiating contact? That’s not fair. How are you supposed to leave him alone when he does stuff like this? “Doesn’t matter to me,” you shrug, not able to meet his eyes.

“There’s a showing in an hour, how does that sound? We can go get dinner afterwards.”

“Sounds great,” you replied.

The movie would have been great if you hadn’t sat there stewing in your own anxiety the entire film. Afterwards, Bucky took you to your favourite restaurant where you ordered a salad with the dressing on the side. Bucky’s brows furrowed at your unusual choice, but he didn’t say anything. The dinner was stilted and awkward, both of you running out of things to talk about sooner than usual.

For the next few weeks, you successfully distanced yourself from your boyfriend. You ignored the way your heart ached every time you saw Bucky alone on the couch, wishing you could go over and snuggle up to his warmth. You learned to ignore the hunger pangs, the way your stomach felt like it was eating itself. Your head split open with the force of the headaches pounding against your skull, vision swimming every time you stood up too quickly.

It’s fine, you told yourself. Who really needed breakfast anyway? Why eat lunch when you could have a few snacks? Bucky was right, you really did eat too much. You could survive on one meal a day, snacks thrown in when your hunger got the best of you, or your hands began to shake too much. You were getting better for him, though, so it didn’t matter. You were eating less, clinging less—just like Bucky had wanted; so why wasn’t he happy yet?

The bed felt colder than usual.

You used to sleep tangled up in Bucky’s arms, leeching off of Bucky’s furnace of a body. You used to tuck your perpetually cold feet against his legs, laughing off his grumbling about how your toes felt like icicles.

Now, you curl up at the farthest edge of the mattress, not willing to accidentally touch him when he clearly wants to be left alone.

You used to look forward to getting home from work, ready to melt into your supersoldier’s arms at the end of a long, tiring day.

Now, you’re filled with dread, wondering if this time will finally be the last.

You used to love the shared dinners at the worn table you had found at a thrift store long ago. Bucky and you would take turns choosing what meal to prepare—you had been on a mission to introduce him to the world of flavour the 21st century had to offer; he always used to say the best part of the ordeal was watching your expectant face as he tried the first bite.

Now your stomach twisted at the mere thought of eating in front of him. His words echoed through your brain with each bite you took—it was enough to make you sick.

Bucky had grown short and snappy with everyone (except you) lately; Natasha had complained ad nauseum about your grumpy boyfriend the last few times you’d hung out. You couldn’t help but think that all of those weeks of your overbearing clinginess were finally catching up to him, as if talking to Sam had opened the floodgates. He has finally realised what his problem was: you.

You really were too late to fix this. No amount of distance could fix what damage had been done. Bucky had a foot out the door for a long time now, and you had been too oblivious to notice.

It was a typical Tuesday when Bucky sent you a text that shattered any hope of repairing your relationship.

>>>Hey, after work, can you come straight home?

>>>We really need to talk.

The cursor blinked steadily even as your hand shook. Tears quickly blurred the damning texts beyond recognition—not that you’d ever forget those words; the words that signified the end of the best thing to happen to you.

After crying in the bathroom for the entirety of your lunch break, you passed through the rest of the day in a haze. Your coworkers knew something was wrong, of course, they did, but you didn’t offer up any explanation.

You felt something press against your throat as you slid the key into the lock, suffocating you with every step you took towards him. There was no point in prolonging the inevitable any further. You wouldn’t continue to drag Bucky down.

The vase of flowers was still sitting on the counter—he’d been buying you a new batch every time they started to wilt. Was he cheating on you? Was that why he was getting you flowers so much more often? The thought was something you’d have previously thought inconceivable, but now you weren’t so sure.

Breaking you from your thoughts, Bucky called out your name from the living room. You forced your gaze away from the flowers and to the living room.

Bucky was sitting on the sofa, hands clasped in between his knees and head hanging low. Your stomach swirled at the sight. This was it, wasn’t it? He was going to cut his losses—cut you from his life.

You crossed your arms, tucking your hands out of sight to hide the way they trembled. You waited for him to say something, not willing to be the person to instigate the conversation.

“Could you sit down?” Bucky asks, sounding so small as he gestures to the armchair. You walk over to the chair, despite wanting to stay as close to the exit as possible—ready to run away as soon as his words cut through you like a knife.

Bucky sighs deeply, his hands running over his face. You almost reach out for him, wanting to comfort him, wanting to kiss those lines away from his forehead. Stopping yourself, you remind yourself that it’s not your place, not anymore, and it hasn’t been for a while now.

“This isn’t working anymore, doll,” Bucky says, not even able to look at you. You saw it coming a mile away, and yet it doesn’t take away the anguish those words bring you.

You know you should say something, but words seem to escape you as soon as you open your mouth. Instead, a hot ball of grief and shame lodges in your throat. Tears spring to your eyes, despite telling yourself that you would not let him see you cry over this. It’s for the best, you try to tell yourself. You were but a stepping stone to Bucky’s recovery. You should be grateful that a man like him even offered you a second glance. Despite the way things ended, you know that you’ll look back on all the memories you made together and smile. Because, for once in your life, you knew what it was like to be loved so wholly. You knew what it was like to have a man who cared so deeply, loved so openly, and gave you enough devotion to last a lifetime.

“Yeah,” you agree with him for the sake of things. You hope he won’t look too deeply into your unshed tears, the way your voice wobbled and the way your body trembled. “I… I should go.”

“Doll-”

You cut him off before he can get another word in. “No, just… let me-”

Standing up to run away from this awful conversation, you feel the world sway around you. Black fades in at the edges of your vision as you stumble forward. You think you hear Bucky calling out your name under the sharp ringing in your ears. Clenching your eyes shut, you brace yourself for the hardwood floor.

—

“Doll?”

You groan as something prods your side. Just five more minutes, you think, burying your face into the warmth surrounding you.

“Sweetheart, please!”

Is that Bucky? Why does he sound so worried?

Blinking up at your boyfriend, you find that you’re both in the living room. Bucky’s clenching onto your body like a lifeline. “What’s wrong, Bucky?”

He stares blankly at you for a few seconds. “Doll… you just passed out.”

“Oh,” you eloquently respond.

The fog covering your brain begins to lift bit by bit. You were both sitting down… Bucky was… he was breaking up with you.

Jolting, you scramble out of Bucky’s arms, pushing him away, away, away.

“I’m sorry,” you say, covering your heated face in shame. “I’m so sorry, Bucky.”

“Don’t be sorry, honey.” He scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” you say, despite knowing full well that ever since you started skipping meals, you’ve been prone to blacking out if you stand up too fast.

Bucky frowns at you, eyebrows furrowed. “I feel like you aren’t telling the truth right now.”

“It doesn’t matter, Bucky.”

“Like hell it doesn’t matter! You just fainted. If I hadn’t been there to catch you, you’d have cut your head open on the side of the table. Tell me what’s going on!” Never before had you heard Bucky sound so worried.

“Why do you care so much?”

“Why do I–Why do I care?” Bucky scoffs in disbelief. “You did not just ask me that.”

“You’re finally breaking up with me, you don’t have to pretend to care about me anymore,” you shoot back, venom lacing your words as you extricate yourself from under his arm.

“Breaking… I wasn’t going to break up with you,” Bucky says as if the idea alone was unimaginable.

“Bullshit! I know that you’ve been wanting to break up with me for weeks—months even!”

“Where the hell would you get an idea like that from?”

“I heard you talking to Sam last month. You told him that I was clingy and lazy and fat.”

Bucky looks positively bewildered at your words. “I would never say any of that crap!”

“But you did.” You cross your arms, daring him to continue lying to you.

“Why the hell would I ever say that? I sure as hell don’t think any of that-”

“Oh, give it up, Barnes. Who else would you have been talking about? Who else is such a spoiled, lazy, clingy, fat-”

“Oh my god,” Bucky interrupts you. “Are you talking about that time I was complaining about Alpine?”

Your heart stops in your chest. “What?”

“I was telling Sam about how annoying it was trying to work from home. She’d always sit on my damn laptop and yowl in my face until I payed attention to her.” Bucky shakes his head—his bemusement is quick to fade, however. “You seriously thought that I was talking about you?”

Sniffling back tears, you nodded your head.

“Oh, Jesus, doll. Why didn’t you say something?” Bucky wraps his arms around you. “Hell, if I ever said something like that, I’d expect at least a slap to the face.”

“But I was too clingy, always cuddling you and giving you kisses-”

“Is that why you haven’t so much as touched me the last few weeks?”

“I thought you wanted me to stop,”

Bucky squeezes you tighter. “Never. I’d never want you to stop. Doll, I thought you were mad at me. I kept buying you flowers and making your favourite dinners to try and get you to forgive me. But you didn’t even give them a second glance, and half the time you’d already eaten or you’d just push the food around on your plate.”

You melt into his embrace, his reassurances a balm over the lingering anxiety of being too much for him. “I was just trying to make you like me again.”

“Doll,” Bucky pulls away from you, sounding completely gutted. “You should never change yourself to make someone like you more. I love how clingy you are—I missed you so damn much.”

“What about…” No, you can’t ask that—you don’t want to hear his answer. “Never mind.”

And Bucky, damn him, doesn’t let it go. “What about what?”

“It’s nothing,” you say, pulling away from him.

“Doll, please don’t shut me out,” Bucky pleads, using those sad eyes that always make you fold.

“It’s just… You never… Do you have a problem with what I look like?”

Bucky’s frown deepens. “Of course, not. Doll, you are so damn beautiful-”

“But I could be thinner. Lots of other girls are prettier and skinnier,” you interrupt him. You freeze at the way his face hardens.

“I love you just the way you are, sweetheart. You don’t have to change a god damn thing about you. You want to know who drives me crazy? You. You want to know who I want to spend the rest of my life looking at? You. When I fell in love with you, I fell in love with all of you. It’s always going to be you. I don’t want no one else, got it?”

“I…” You stumble over your words, tears burning in your waterline. “I started skipping meals again. That’s why I passed out.”

Bucky’s face turns ashen. “You… you stopped eating because of me?”

“I didn’t completely stop eating! I had snacks and dinner most days. It’s not that big-”

“So help me god if you were about to say that it’s not that big of a deal,” Bucky interrupts you, voice sharp. “You need to eat, doll. This beautiful body cannot live without food.”

“I just thought… I thought if I started skipping meals and working out more, I’d look more like Nat or Sharon or-”

“If I wanted someone that looked like them, I’d ask them out. You wanna know why I asked you out? It’s because I thought you were hot. It’s because you’re as gorgeous on the outside as you are on the inside. I don’t want you to look like Nat, I don’t want you to look like Sharon. I want you to look like you.”

Bucky says it with such conviction, you can’t help but allow the tears to fall down your face. “You really mean that?”

“Of course, babydoll. You’re it for me. Don’t want no one else.” Bucky pulls you back into his arms, nuzzling his face into the junction between your neck and shoulder. “Call off of work tomorrow.”

“What? I can’t-” You screech as he lifts you into his arms. Clinging to him like a koala as he makes his way to your bedroom, you protest every step of the way.

“Hush,” he says, laying you down on the bed. “I have been deprived of your cuddles for too damn long. We’re gonna order whatever you want, and snuggle all night long. Then tomorrow, I’m going to make you a giant breakfast and we can go on a picnic for lunch.”

“I don’t ever want my best girl doubting my love for her again, got it?” Bucky asks, leaning over you.

You huff at his antics, rolling your eyes. He pinches your side, only the hint of a grin belying his angered expression. “Got it?” Bucky asks again.

“Yes! Okay, I got it!”

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you know just how loved you are,” he says as a promise before leaning in and kissing your lips.

That night, as you snuggle into his warmth, you endeavour to never let a misunderstanding like this tear you apart again.

Taglist: @hallecarey1 @harleycao @filmsbyblair

[queersyourgender]

hi! could you do something with Robby x diabetic reader. Maybe something where their blood sugar drops and Robby has to help them get it back up!

HR Violating Sweetness — Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x GN!Reader

Notes: Fun fact— diabetes runs in my family! I have no idea if it skipped me or not, but I sure as hell don't want to find out LMAOO

———

Being a charge nurse is no easy job. It's a grueling, heavy task, and as such, not for the faint of heart. You've always been good at prioritizing who needed earlier care than who, minimizing the amount of time wasted deciding what happens when, and directing your fellow nurses and medical assistants to getting the job done, all with the frightening efficacy of a drill sergeant. It's practically the perfect job for you.

Sometimes, though, your body disagreed. With all the stress it puts you under, you're bound to buckle every now and then, and you hate when that happens in front of others. It's kind of on you this time, though, because you'd been late for the first time in decades, and had rushed out of your home without taking your breakfast, blood sugar, nothing. You didn't even have your morning tea.

As such, it doesn't surprise you when two hours into the shift, you start feeling unwell. Your eyes refuse to cooperate and focus on the patient board, and just craning your head to look up at said board was making you feel all types of wrong. Without noticing, you lean back on the nurse's station counter, your breaths shallow and your gaze glassy.

Perlah does notice, though, because you're not leaning on the counter, you're leaning on her. “Woah, hey, you okay?” She asks you, her concern spiking immediately when you try to say something but end up muttering slurred gibberish in her general direction. Quickly, she gets to her feet, holding you up to support you and looking around frantically for the patient's food cart.

But it's busy as fuck today, there's so many people walking and buzzing about, and she can't see it anywhere. “Fuck, could I get some help over here?!” Perlah finally relents, knowing you were probably going to chew her out for it later but not particularly giving a damn at the moment, not when you're about to slip into hypoglycemic syncope.

It's not an uncommon sentence to be yelled out in the ER, but it's who it's coming from that makes Robby immediately drop everything and bound over to the nurse's station at an embarrassing speed. “I'm fine,” is the first thing you say when he swims into your vision, trying to shake your head but just making yourself more dizzy. “Just need something to eat.”

“You haven't eaten?” Robby inquires, his voice sounding far away but still clear enough for you to pick up on his incredulity. You go to say something, only for him to suddenly take something out of his pocket, hurriedly unwrapping it and shoving it into your hands. “Here, take this.”

You blink at it unfathomingly for a moment, because why does he just have that at the ready, but take it from him with shaky hands anyway. The moment you bite into the chocolate bar, you can feel your body rebalance itself, feel your feet become steadier on the ground and the strength seep back into your knees.

“You walk around with chocolate bars in your pockets?” You say, finally sounding a little more like yourself, and both Perlah and Robby sigh in relief. At the question, though, Perlah also turns to the attending, a knowing and teasing smile on her face as she watches him to see how he's going to answer.

Robby flushes slightly, his cheeks dusting a soft pink as he scratches at his beard and looks back at you with a sheepish grin. “They're for you,” he settles on revealing  because how the hell was he going to get out of this one? No lie would be believable. “Just in case.”

Your own face heats up in surprise at the words, before you suddenly adorn a shit-eating expression and laugh. “Aww, Robby,” you coo playfully, waving the chocolate bar between you two and winking. “If I'd known you were this sweet, I'd've just kissed you instead.”

And oh, the HR violation is so worth the way his entire head erupts into a violent shade of tomato red, you can practically see steam coming out of his ears to cool off. Perlah throws her head back and laughs, nudging you in the shoulder and turning away to go back to work. She's obviously trying to sneak away before you give her the aforementioned chewing out, but for the moment, you allow it.

[goobstars]

hii!! i love ur work 🫶🫶

i would like to request jax with a reader who got high off the stupid sauce at spudsy’s with ragatha on accident

𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐌𝐓𝐇𝐍

summary : spudsy's was a restaurant loved by many with its good food, amazing sauce, and... two high employees fixing the burgers? oh, nevermind, only one. the other one was being carried away by a purple rabbit.

tags : romance, jax & reader are in a relationship, and reader & ragatha are high.

notes : i'm back because i was speed running a whole lot of requests, so now i have more to post. enjoy!

this was hell.

at first, the sound of a fast food adventure was fine. it amused everyone to think about doing something realistic. like something they would do in the real world.

but that was the thing—this adventure was something you'd do in the real world.

which meant it was excruciatingly boring.

and the fact that gangle was seemingly going insane with that happy mask wasn't helping.

you had been assigned to make burgers with ragatha while pomni worked the register, and zooble and jax were off doing random tasks gangle kept giving them. during those tasks, though, you'd hear jax's grumbles echo through the kitchen as he griped about the adventure.

personally, you were fine. ragatha was nice to talk to, and assembling the burgers was actually pretty easy.

or, it was.

the thing about spudsy's what that it had a signature sauce—stupid sauce. the npc's appeared to love it, yet you were curious as to why it was given such a title until an accident occurred.

ragatha had squeezed the bottle of 'stupid sauce' a little too hard, and the condiment seemed to live up to its name as you both found yourselves in a high-like state.

you were currently on the floor of the kitchen, and ragatha was a few feet away from you while you stared up at the ceiling.

did ceilings always spin when you looked at them?

footsteps echoed through the kitchen as your eyes flickered over towards ragatha, and you noted how jax stepped over her before stopping by your side.

"you're on the floor, too?" he questioned in an irritated tone, yet the annoyance wasn't pointed at you. more or likely, he was tired of being bossed around by gangle and having to do random tasks.

you narrowed your eyes at the sight of him as you ignored his query, and you blinked at him a few times.

"why are you purple?" your question made jax frown as he stared down at you, and you only continued your questions. "rabbits aren't purple, right?"

"you're drunk or something..." he mumbled as he attempted to step over you, but before he could, gangle poked her head out from a corner. "jax, here at spudy's, we don't leave our coworkers when they're feeling down! so, would you please take [name] to the break room?"

a groan left his throat as gangle disappeared, and he peered down at you while you just continued to stare at him in confusion.

"if you're a purple rabbit, why are you hot?" jax raised an eyebrow at your statement, yet you only continued to talk. "does that make me weird to think that?"

"doll, everything you think is weird." he spoke as he squatted down, and he grabbed one of your arms. yet, you yanked it away with a frown. "mean rabbits don't get to touch me."

"since when have you had a problem with me touching you?" his question had a smug tone to it, but you remained stubborn about the whole thing. any time he tried to grab you, you wouldn't let him.

he would rather be taking out the trash than dealing with this.

a sigh left his throat before he grabbed your arm again, but this time, he didn't let you pull away.

"UNHAND ME, YOU NONSENSICAL FOOL!" you shouted, and jax only winced at your volume. why did you have to get high with ragatha?

he threw your arm over his shoulder before shifting his arm underneath your leg, and he lifted you up from the ground.

your legs wrapped around his waist while his hands gripped both of your thighs.

you paused in his grasp before leaning back—your eyes wide as you met his gaze. he peered at you tiredly, yet you only slightly kicked your legs as a wide smile crossed your face. "you're a strong purple rabbit—that's hot."

a snicker left his throat at your words, but a loud gasp escaped your lips as you tried to push him away. "WAIT, NO! I HAVE A BOYFRIEND!"

as you started to push your hands against his shoulders—which you really made no progress because your arms felt like noodles—, jax only tilted his head before pulling you closer. "doll, i am your boyfriend."

you froze at his statement for a moment before leaning your head against his, and you hummed. "you're lying—"

"you want proof?" as soon as you gifted him a firm nod, he pressed his mouth against yours, and once he pulled away, he choked out a laugh at your expression.

your eyes we're wide while your mouth was agape, and you slowly blinked at him. "again."

"i get that it's impossible to not want more when it comes to me, but we gotta get you to the break room."

jax's voice held a taunting bounce to it as he started walking with you in his arms, and you only frowned at his words as you moved your head to rest on his shoulder. "so, you're basically saying you hate me."

"you're so dramatic..." he stated as he exited the kitchen and entered a small hallway, and he opened the door to the break room.

"you didn't deny it." your words only caused him to roll his eyes as he entered the room, and he closed the door behind him before he walked over to the couch that was present. he leaned down to gently sit you on the couch, and he pried your legs off of his waist while your arms flopped down to your side.

you sat up for a moment before slightly leaning to the side, and you then fell into the couch cushions with a sigh.

jax only chuckled at the sight before kneeling besides the couch, and he poked your forehead with his index finger. "you need to sleep. can't have you high on the job, can we?"

"but i don't want to—the benadryl man is gonna get me..."

jax blinked in confusion, yet he decided to ignore your words as he leaned forward and placed a kiss on your forehead. "just go to sleep, you'll be fine."

"can you stay with me? please?" your pleads made him peer over his shoulder towards the break room door, and he shrugged before facing you.

"gangle did say we don't leave our coworkers when they're feeling down..."

he tilted his head with a smirk, "you feelin' down, doll?"

"YES!"

his grin only grew at your excitement, and he stood up from the ground before sitting on the other side of the couch.

you lazily sat up as you shifted over towards him, and you plopped your head down on his lap.

he placed a hand on top of your face, and he could feel you frown against his palm as you pushed his arm away. when you let go, he only put his hand back on your face, and a muffled gripe erupted from you before you shoved his arm away again with a glare.

or, you attempted to glare.

you just looked like you were trying to pop the only braincell that was working at the moment.

"fine—i'll stop." he announced as he rested his arm against the arm rest, and he leaned his cheek against his fist while peering down at you.

if he was being honest, he didn't mind the state you were in. one, it gave him an excuse not to work, and two, you seemed more relaxed.

for the last couple of adventures, you've been oddly tense, and no matter how many times you lied to him and stated that you were fine, he didn't believe it. it didn't take a genius to note the way you'd fidget with your hands, or the way you'd zone out whenever you thought no one would notice.

but he noticed—he always did.

so, it was nice seeing you relaxed again, even though it was because you were high.

what even got you high?

jax grinned at the question, but before he could ask you it, he heard your tired voice speak up.

"i love you..." your words were slurred, and jax's grin faltered for a moment.

he noted the way your eyes shined the longer you continued to stare up at him, and he questioned if it was because of the current state you were, or because you were looking at him.

the logical side of him assumed it was the first thought, for it appeared like common sense to believe so, yet the more he watched your eyes sparkle, the more he considered the other thought.

maybe your eyes looked that way because you were staring at him.

he let out a low breath as used his free hand to grasp one of yours, and he gifted your hand a gentle squeeze.

"i love you too, doll..."

"barbie, life in the dream house—"

jax sat up a bit so that he wasn't leaning on his other hand, and he used that one to remove his hat before placing the cap on your face. "sleep."

"there's a hole in the hat, i can still see you."

"sleep."

[oakleavesofsilver]

and if you *do* say "later" (which is absolutely fine! not everyone has time and energy for everything all the time!)... do bring it up again, if you can. mean it when you say it. it's fine to go "hey, that sounds interesting but i'm all out of brain rn"... and then either ask later, or ask them to tell you again later (in an hour, two, tomorrow) and then actually *listen*.

I’d divorce him too lmao