#there was a LOT of blood and I was crying hysterically

[just-rogi]

im so fucking tired of going to the doctors. i cant keep up. every week its a new test or a new lab or a new specialist. i'm just exhausted. i have to go in for blood work AGAIN- this is the fourth time since april. its expensive, and time consuming, and honestly? im tired. im just tired. all the fucking time im tired of the lack of answers, and the phone calls in the middle of the day, and crying at work in front of my students, and opening my email to new lab results every other day. IM TIRED OF IT!!! im not even afraid of hospitals or needles i never have been, even as a kid, but i couldnt stop crying last time i got bloodwork. ive never been upset by bloodwork before what the fuck. last week i had an ultrasound of my liver and i got a call in the middle of the work day today that i need to get a BONE SCAN?? are you kidding me?? im scared. and im tired. and im angry. and i dont want to do any of this. i just want to cry and isolate myself and go to bed and not see anyone ever but i cant fucking do that because i have to go get injected with radioactive contrast material and wait four hours so they can see what is wrong with my bone enzymes.

[loveinhawkins]

It’s Dustin who saves Eddie.

He doesn’t try and carry him back to the trailer, nothing like that—if he could manage that on determination alone, then he would, but his throbbing leg has other ideas.

So he stays by Eddie’s side. Throws off his hoodie and starts to rip any piece of his clothing that he can, because he’s come a long way from when he once stuck bandaids on Steve’s beaten up face.

“What… what are you doing?” Eddie says in between gasping breaths.

Dustin would laugh if he wasn’t so scared. “Buying more time,” he echoes. Then he looks Eddie right in the eye and adds, voice wavering, “I’m really fucking sorry in advance.”

He takes a deep breath and presses the material to Eddie’s chest with force.

Eddie screams.

Dustin grits his teeth. Keeps going.

He creates makeshift tourniquets for Eddie’s arms, keeps tearing at his shirt, then takes it off entirely to use as a larger bandage, ignoring the shock of cold against his skin; the only thought in his head is that he has to stop the bleeding.

Eddie’s hand finds his bare shoulder. Squeezes weakly. “Tha’s enough,” he slurs. “D-Dustin, stop.”

And Dustin only does what he says because it doesn’t look like any more blood is soaking through the material. He keeps pressure on the worst of the wounds, tries to keep his elbows locked, as if that will stop his relentless shivering.

And when he looks up, he sees a tear fall from Eddie’s eye, down his temple, into his hair—and Dustin somehow knows that it’s not from pain alone, that Eddie’s crying just because he can see how cold he is.

“M’sorry,” Eddie whispers. “Never meant for… for you to—”

“Shut up,” Dustin says, then hastily amends, “Actually, don’t shut up, just—just stay awake. They’ll be back soon, okay, Steve and Robin and Nancy, and they’ll—”

“Steve,” Eddie agrees. His voice goes up and down, like a little song: “Steve, Steve, Steve.”

“Yeah, he’ll—hey, Eddie, eyes open.”

“Mm-hmm,” Eddie says faintly. “Eyes… oh, forgot to… you were right, H-Henderson, he’s… a badass. S’got pretty eyes, too, like wow. Pretty, pretty…”

And…

Well. That’s a development.

“You can tell me all about Steve’s pretty eyes if you keep yours open.”

And Eddie’s eyes do jolt open at that, like he’s received an electric shock. He groans in mortification.

“Jesus Christ. Didn’t mean to—fuck, feel like I’m drunk, man, I can’t… just kill me.”

Dustin thinks he probably would have found that request funny if Eddie wasn’t saying it through teeth flecked with blood.

Still, he does let out a strangled, hysterical giggle when he says, “I know how to keep you awake now.”

Eddie groans again. “Spare me the—”

“He sings in the shower, like, full blown Elvis impression, all that jazz. And he denies having lucky socks, but he wears the same pair whenever Lucas has a basketball game.”

“Huh?” Eddie says eloquently.

“Pay attention, dude, you need to know what you’re getting into! Oh, he said when he went to see The Fox and the Hound, he cried.”

Eddie chuckles. “That’s… oh, that’s sweet.” He smiles, eyes bright, and Dustin suddenly knows that they’re gonna be okay. “Keep going?”

Dustin does. He talks about how Steve always says, “Two for joy,” even when he sees a singular magpie, because he reasons that the second one is always just hiding. How he eats ice-cream too fast, does a comical hop in place when he inevitably gets brain freeze. That whenever he happens to pick up Dustin from school, he almost always has a Simon and Garfunkel tape playing, sings along to At the Zoo as he turns out of the parking lot.

Dustin doesn’t mention the Farrah Fawcett spray; a promise is a promise.

Eddie seems pretty damn well entertained with what he’s been given, anyway. He keeps smiling, lets out breathy chuckles that give Dustin hope: that he still has enough energy to laugh.

“Okay, okay, I’m awake,” he says, “I’m so awake, jus’… you just relax.”

And it’s only when Dustin stops talking that he realises his teeth have been chattering the whole time.

Eddie gives an unhappy sounding hum, and his hand comes up to clumsily rub at Dustin’s forearm.

“Your lips are blue.”

“I’m f-fine.”

A sudden desperate yell splits through the air; Dustin didn’t know that Steve could sound quite like that.

“Here!” Dustin shouts as much as he can.

He hears three people running; Steve gets there first.

Eddie’s eyes go wide. “Steve,” he says, and Dustin’s seen enough movies to think that this could be it, the big moment, or at the very least that Eddie’s about to give another wandering speech on Steve’s eyes.

But instead—

“Steve, Steve,” Eddie repeats, “Dustin’s cold.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve says; he’s already taking off his jacket, shoving Dustin into it with this frantic mixture of urgency and care.

Dustin’s shivers get even more pronounced as the jacket’s zipped up, as the warmth from Steve’s body heat hits him.

“Think E-Eddie’s—b-bleeding stopped,” he says, accidentally biting on his tongue thanks to his chattering teeth.

Steve looks over Dustin’s handiwork, eyes shining. “Yeah, you did good,” he says, choked, rubs his hands down Dustin’s forearms more effectually than Eddie had. “You did so good.”

“You must’ve been wearing your socks tonight, Harrington,” Eddie says.

Steve stares at him. It’s only when he starts to laugh that Dustin realises he’s crying at the same time. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Shh, s’okay,” Eddie says. “I cried at th’movie, too, don’ tell anyone. S’not fair what… s’posed to be a happy endin’…”

Steve catches Dustin’s eye, says, deadpan, even with a tear-streaked face, “Doc, I think we’re losing him.”

Dustin whacks him on the arm, because it’s so stupid, it’s so Steve, and, God, they're really gonna be okay.

“Dustin’s th’best doctor,” Eddie chants, “best, best, best…”

“Yeah, he’s a goddamn superhero,” Steve says sincerely.

There’s a look Steve has on his face while he lifts Eddie up, a fleeting softness right before he goes back into planning mode, scanning the trailer park in case of any more threats; where Eddie’s fingers curl around Steve’s neck, and Steve smiles down at him, and…

Dustin would put a bet on Steve thinking Eddie has pretty eyes, too.

At least, he would if he could stand up.

When Steve clocks his leg, his jaw works a couple of times before he speaks. “Hey, Robin, Nance?” He raises his voice, looking to some point in the distance. “Could you—help Dustin up, I’ve—uh, kinda got my hands full.”

His tone is light, but his chin trembles just a bit, like he might break down at the thought that he can’t carry Dustin out of here, too.

“Okay, c’mon superhero,” Robin says, suddenly by Dustin’s side; she counts down, and then Dustin’s being carefully lifted up, an arm flung around Nancy, too.

“I’m okay,” Dustin feels the need to say. Robin and Nancy are out of breath, and he can’t help noticing the vivid red marks around their necks.

“Yeah, you will be,” Robin corrects.

“Is—is Eddie—?”

“Look, he’s right in front,” Nancy says. “Steve’s got him.” She lowers her voice and when she says, “You were really brave, you know,” Dustin has to swallow a lump in his throat: for a moment feels thirteen years old, her hand in his at the Snow Ball.

And she’s right; Eddie is right in front. Dustin can see him trailing a hand up and down Steve’s arm, slow and soothing, and he’s talking, just too far away to be heard.

For a few steps, Dustin thinks that Eddie must be spilling more of what he’s learned, regurgitating the anecdotes.

But then Robin and Nancy pull him a little closer. And he can read Eddie’s lips.

He’s okay, Eddie is saying, looking away from Steve’s face to find where Dustin is. He’s right behind us, sweetheart. He’s okay.

[ms-demeanor]

So Large Bastard went into the hospital for transplant evaluation on February 13th 2021 and that was one of the major peaks of covid and basically we dropped him off at the hospital and that was it; nobody was allowed to visit him or see him and they pretty much immediately implanted a pump in his shoulder that made it painful and difficult for him to use the phone. At that point the message we were getting was "either he'll qualify for a transplant and you'll see him again when he is released after the transplant (and the waitlist, and the surgery, and the recovery) or we'll allow you to visit him when he's dying OR he won't qualify for transplant and we'll provide his end of life care and we'll allow you to visit him when he's dying" and on like February 16th, before we knew if he'd qualify for a transplant, I got a call from the hospital saying they were putting him on a heart/lung bypass machine because the pump they'd implanted in his shoulder and the pump they'd implanted in his heart weren't doing enough (both are designed to pump blood through about six feet of human, not through about seven feet of human, so they needed a much larger external pump). They asked me if I approved this procedure because he was kind of out of it, and held the phone up to him so I could ask him if he wanted this and say goodbye - I didn't know if that was goodbye until he got woken up by the doctors after stabilizing, or goodbye until he got approved for a transplant, or goodbye until he didn't get approved for a transplant and they'd take him off the machine to say goodbye for real if they couldn't keep him alive any longer.

And then they hung up the phone and I sat at my desk and stared at my computer and went back to work because literally what the hell else could I do? I couldn't drive to the hospital, I couldn't anxiously wait to see if the doctor would come out and tell me the machine had stabilized him. They said they'd call me in three hours with an update. So I took some orders and placed some calls and responded very politely to emails until I got off the clock at 5:30.

I had texted one of Large Bastard's friends who I'd been calling a lot and asked if we could meet up so I could explain what was going on so he could pass that info on to their radio nerd club. We were meeting up in the parking lot of an ihop because it was an easy outdoor location to describe to him when I wasn't actually capable of processing things like "addresses" or "street names" and I drove over to the ihop and at the red light for the left turn to go into the parking lot I fucking lost it. Like. I don't do the "hysterical crying" thing often but when I do, boy do I. I was in my truck with the windows rolled up and music on and I was sobbing so hard that it shook the truck and the crying was audible from outside the car.

I know it was audible from outside the car because a homeless man came up to my window and knocked and when I rolled the window down he told me "you're okay girl, you got this, it's gonna be alright" and I kind of nodded at him and sobbed at him and waved at him as he kept crossing the street and my light changed and I turned into the parking lot.

By the time my friend got there I had calmed down and stopped crying and through the entire rest of the process I never lost it in quite the same way; they took Large Bastard off the lung bypass part of the machine a day later and he was awake when they approved him for the transplant list, and a few days after that they started allowing a single, masked, socially distanced family member to start visiting patients in the transplant ICU for two hours a day, so I was able to come see him and he immediately said "look I have abs" and pulled his gown aside to show me that he'd lost so much weight as his body tried to eat itself to stay alive that he did, in fact, have an eight pack. And we laughed about it. It was uphill from there. It was never as hard for me as it was in the few hours after that phone call.

And in those few hours there was one dude who happened to be walking by who was kind enough to try to offer comfort to a complete stranger and I think about him all the time.

[anticanonsposts]

Sex-mishaps w/ König

let’s be real mistakes happen during sex (a lot) and most writing doesn't include it (mine included) , so here are some that happen w/ König

nsfw-mdni

cw: blood, injury, crying, anger?, reference to female anatomy

you both have your fair share of doing slightly embarrassing things during sex, most of them happened during your first few times but obvi these things don’t have an expiration date 

some of yours...

once after the two of you were apart for two weeks and you finally had sex again, you started crying a little 

nothing hysterical, you were just very overwhelmed with the pleasure and intimacy that you had been missing 

since it was really just your eyes welling up, he didn’t notice until you had orgasmed and once he did he was very concerned, thinking he had hurt you or rushed things

but you assured him you were fine, and then pounced on him to finish him off, getting rid of any worry he had 

another time, the first time he ever called you schatz was during sex, and not knowing what it meant you truly thought it was the name of someone else

you had been riding him, he had a death grip on your butt/hips murmuring praises while his eyes were glued to your body 

then he says it, ‘just like that schatz’ which causes you to scrunch your face up in confusion and then anger ‘What the fuck did you just say?!’ he sits up when you say this trying to bring you closer to him ‘say what, I’m sorry, y/n what?’ and you not so gently push him to lay back down with your palms against his chest

you start to get off of him but he keeps his grip on you and pulls you back down ‘what is schatz?’

there it is, that fucking name again, who did he think he is, ‘who is that?’ you ask back and his eyes wander for a second before gulping, finally understanding

'schatz means treasure liebling '

‘oh fuck me’ you say completely embarrassed, covering your face with your hands ‘I’m so fucking sorry, did I hurt you’ you say assessing any damage (there’s none) you made to his chest when you pushed him 

he just chuckles and forgives you 

(it was honestly kind of hot, how you got mad) (whenever you are assertive he gets really turned on hehehe)

another one of your first few times you go over to his place, you two start going at it and you don’t think and before you know it you are squirting on his bed

you feel so bad because you made a huge wet patch and you keep covering your face and he is just rumbling with laughter partly because of your polite reaction but also because he was just proud that he made you squirt!!

now onto him...

one time he came way to fast and felt so bad

you had been laying down under him, grinding yourself on his leg that he had placed in between yours 

and you just looked so pretty, and your noises were so sweet and hot 

then you really got him by pulling your shirt up, exposing your tits to him 

while you continued grinding on his leg, he took them in his hands/mouth and started grinding back onto your hip 

everything just kept feeling better and better until before he knew it he felt his climax approaching

groaning into your neck, you started to feel a slight wet spot form against his pants 

breathlessly you looked up at him ‘did you?....’

‘scheisse!’ he replied as he pulled away from you sitting up on his knees, trying to cover his face with a hand, completely fucking embarrassed, he wasn’t even inside of you, you didn’t even touch him :(

in this moment he thought for sure you wouldn’t want to do anything with him ever again, that he was pathetic, that he was not able to perform 

you just looked at him with a hazy look telling him not to worry and that you didn’t mind in the slightest 

if anything, you told him that it was pretty hot that he got off to just making out/dry humping with you 

similar to another fic I wrote ('sex drought' check it out its great) one time you were on top of him and he was fucking up into you... 

he got a little over zealous while cumming and unexpectedly gave a really hard thrust which sent you flying forward with the force of his core/thighs

before you could processes what was happening your head was already slamming into his nose

it took him longer to realize what happened than you, he started bleeding everywhere and you were so worried that you broke your bf’s nose :( 

you two end up going to the hospital and opt to just explain what happened to the doctor so that they didn’t think it was any sort of domestic violence

könig was blushing the whole time and the nurse/doctor just raised their eyebrows and said wow   

long story short, it wasn’t broken, just a lot of blood 

this also resulted in you cradling his head every night giving him so many kisses because you felt so bad (he liked the baby treatment so he wasn’t gonna complain) 

overall...awkward/embarrassing stuff happens but you two just laugh it off

[shinobuscanonwife]

Hello. How about Upper Moons + Muzan's reaction on their S/O, upon learning that they are demons, going full "okay" mode and offer some of their blood? I can't help but think that this is quite romantic?

Daki

(Platonic)

Daki normally didn't care what humans thought but when it came to you she was terrified of telling you she was a demon. She didn't want you to be scared of her :( but after her brother gave her a pep talk she started to consider telling you. You would probably find out eventually so it would be best now to tell you. She told you she was a demon expecting you to scream or cry or run away from her but all you did was nod and hold up your arm. "Demons need human blood to live yes? You can have some of mine."

Gyutaro

You could tell your boyfriend was anything but human. And this didn't bother you. Even if you didn't know what he was you figured that he would tell you when he's ready. Now Gyutaro had no knowledge of any of this. He was sure you thought he was a human. He prepared a whole speech for you explaining that he was a demon and how he's sorry that he kept it from you for so long but he didn't know how to tell you. In the middle of the speech you just started laughing hysterically. Gyutaro stopped "what's so funny?" He asked kind of worried. "I know your a demon dear you didn't do a good job with hiding it" you said still laughing. Gyutaro had never been more embarrassed in his life. Just as he was about to open his mouth to say something you said "hey demons have to have blood to survive. Are you hungry do you need some of my blood?"

Gyokko

It wasn't exactly hard to figure out he was a demon. He didn't hide the fact that he was a demon because you could honestly tell. He did however hide the fact that he had to eat humans. He didn't know how you would react and he didn't want to find out. He would never forgive himself if he made you scared or uncomfortable. But eventually you did find out and you understood. It's how he has to survive so your not going to stop him. You offered him some of your blood and he of course declined claiming he didn't want to hurt you

Hantengu

He was really worried about scaring you:( again you could tell that he was a demon. But he tried to hide most of what being a demon really meant. Meaning he didn't tell you about eating humans or how he could regenerate his limbs. But when he did tell you he was a nervous wreck holding your hand begging for you not to be mad at him :( you of course weren't and did something that completely shocked him "hey do you need any of my blood?" you asked. He shook his head "nonononono I could never take any of your blood!!!"

Nakime

Nakime did a pretty good job at blending in with humans but she couldn't keep it up forever. She had a good excuse on why she couldn't go out during daytime but she felt bad rejecting your cooking or not being able to stay with you a lot during the night so she eventually told you. "Okay. Thank you for telling me" you said to your girlfriend. Nakime was expecting a bit more of a reaction but she was happy you weren't scared of her. You later offered her some of your blood and she accepted your offer she only took a little bit though she didn't know how much blood loss it took for it to be dangerous for a human but she didn't want to risk it.

Akaza

Akaza understands why you would be scared of him but on the other hand it filled his heart with sadness to think of you being scared of him or running away from him so it took him a while to tell you. But after a year or so of you two dating he figured he had to tell you. One night when you got home from work he greeted you at the door and guided you to the kitchen. He held your hand the whole time he was telling you. Scared you would run away from him or try and back away from him. But you didn't do either of those things you just patiently waited for him to finish talking. You nodded and said "thank you for telling me." Then smiled at him. After that you started to offer him some of your blood. He declined everytime. Even if taking a little bit wouldn't hurt you he doesn't think he's worthy of drinking your blood.

Douma

He knew it was dangerous being in a relationship with you. All the danger it put you in but he was sure to protect you. And Douma thinks not telling you he's a demon is protecting you and arguably he's right but in the back of his mind he knows that he would have to tell you sooner or later. One winter night he came back with 2 small children. There names were Daki and Gyutaro. He knew that if he was going to raise them and turn them into strong demons he would have to tell you about who he actually is. You sat there with the two children asleep in your lap as he explained everything. You nodded your head after he finished talking. "Do you need any of my blood?" You said looking at him. He grinned "just a little. I don't want to take to much~"

Kokushibo

Somehow he was able to hide the fact that he's a demon from you for a good while but when he did tell you he wasn't worried. If you ran from him or were scared of him you simply weren't the one. No matter how much his heart ached to think of it his mind he knew that was the truth. One night he sat down and motioned you to come sit on his lap. And as he played with your hair he figured this would be a perfect time to tell you. He told you that he was a demon. You turned to look at him. "I see. Do you need my blood are you hungry?"

Muzan

For the first time in forever he was worried about what someone thought of him and that upset him because how dare you???? He's the king of demons he shouldn't be concerned over what a mere mortal thinks. But here he was trying to find ways he could tell you he was a demon. Not just a demon the king of all demons. When you got home from work you were met with your husband pacing back and forth looking awfully worried. You asked him what was wrong and he just responded with "we need to talk" his words kind of scared you. Was he mad at you? You couldn't remember doing anything to make him upset. You sat down and Muzan explained to you that he was a demon. And after he was finished you just pulled your sleeve down and said "don't worry I don't mind. Are you hungry? You can have some of my blood."

Thank you for your request! Have a nice day/night

[worldofkuro]

Hi, I love your fic and this may seem really random, you don't have you write it at all, but could you please do a self-harm!reader and Alastor comforting her, or just Alastor comforting her after finding her having a mental breakdown alone. I suggest maybe when their teens cause teens often have mental breakdowns (or maybe that was just me). Thanks again if you see this <3

Oh, dear, trust me, I know, even adults. Thank you for loving Painted Smile. It's always a pleasure to hear your thoughts about it! I wanted to warn you, it’s not fluff, this is how Painted Smile!Alastor would react and we all know he doesn’t work like a “normal” being, he is crazy and that is why we love him, I suppose. This is Alastor’s way of saving you from yourself. So please, if you are easily shocked, don’t read it. TW: Self-harm

Not cut for love.

You were in front of the mirror, in the bathroom, looking at yourself with a blade in your hand. You didn’t know when you started crying, but you just wanted this pain to end. You didn’t understand when you felt this never-ending torment crawl in your mind. You had loving parents and friends that were here for you, and yet, sometimes, you feel lonelier than ever.

You didn’t remember the first time you dug the blade in your skin. Maybe it was because you needed to feel something real, something that would ground you. To save you from drowning, you felt the need to hurt your body.

Your body could heal, your mind couldn’t.

That was what you were telling yourself. Every wound would heal itself because your body wanted to live, and you wanted to keep on living while your mind was torturing you with thoughts you felt like you didn’t deserve to have.

When did this agony begin..?

You held back a sob as blood was beginning to slide down your wrist. It was pretty, making you believe you were pretty inside. You didn't want to be a burden. You didn't want people to be condescending because you were feeling sad or anxious. They would send you to a hospital and never look back.

But this time, it wasn’t enough. Even though the blade cut your skin, it wasn’t enough. You began to cut yourself once more, trying to go deeper until this torment inside your mind would stop.

“ Dearest ?”

You turned your head toward the door you were sure you had locked, and there was Alastor, staring at you with his usual smile. You quickly hide your arms behind your back, your whole body shaking. 

You felt shame enveloping you in an uncomfortable hug. You opened your mouth, but no words could come out. You didn’t know what was going to happen, and you didn’t want to find out.

“ That’s a lot of blood. May I see?” he held his hand toward you, closing the door after him. You took a step back as he came closer, looking at the mess on the floor. You were shaking, angry with yourself to be found in that situation, angry at Alastor to discover your secret, you just felt.. angry.

“ No. Get out.. I don’t have time for jokes.” You tried to keep your voice strong even though it was only a mere whisper.

“ Who’s joking?” he took the blade from your shaking hands and stared at it before looking at you. He gently took your bloodied wrist on his hand with a soft smile. “ It’s going to scar.”

You looked at him, confused. Why wasn’t he screaming at you, calling you crazy or hysterical ? You let him look at your wounds. You felt like this moment was more intimate than you realized. 

“ Do you want to keep going?” he tilted his head toward you, making your eyes widen in shock. He wanted you to continue..? “ Your cut isn’t bad, but this isn’t the best way to cut yourself, my dear.”

“ You… You aren’t angry..?”

“ With you? Of course not. But I’m curious, why are you cutting yourself?” he stroked your bloodied skin while staring at you. As you weakly tried to explain your inner turmoil, Alastor was observing while wiping your tears and your blood from your skin. “ I see. Let’s go kill animals. It helps me when I’m feeling down!” he beamed at you.

“ What? No! Why? They didn’t do anything wrong!”

“ So did you, dearest. And yet, you’re still hurting yourself.” he tilted his head, seeming confused. You closed your mouth at his words, it echoed inside of you, you didn't do anything wrong and yet… “ Next time you want to hurt yourself, wait for me.”

“ Why..? Shouldn’t you try to stop me?”

“ Is it going to make you stop?” he stared at you as you weakly shook your head. This pain was something that you needed now. You didn’t feel like living without it anymore.. Even your body would beg you to do it sometimes…” That’s what I thought. So, my dearest friend, when you want to cut yourself, wait for me, I’ll cut you.”

You stared at him, your eyes wide opened. Did he really say..?

“ Alastor… You..”

“ Like I told you, I know how to cut. Your cuts are messy and dangerous. You could have touched a vein here. So, if you allow me, I’ll cut you.” he pressed the blade slightly against your skin, making you gasp. You looked at Alastor, you didn’t know what to think about it and yet.. It was oddly comforting to think Alastor, your friend, your special person, would do that for you.

“ Are we crazy, Alastor?” you whispered.

“ Completely insane, dear!” he laughed as he cleaned your wounds, already preparing bandages. He hummed before kissing your cut. “ One cut, one kiss, what about it?”

You nodded as he slid the blade against your skin. It wasn’t like you were doing. The blade wasn’t cutting deeply. It was enough to draw blood, but it wasn’t as messy as you would do. Alastor was staring at your face, observing every reaction. It was comforting, letting Alastor have his way with your life. He could kill you if he made a bad cut, but you knew he never would.

You were letting him hold your life in his hands, and it was… a good feeling. You knew Alastor was feeling the same. His pupils were dilated, and you could hear his breathing getting harder, the same as yours.

You looked at the wounds as Alastor kissed it, getting dirty with your blood.

“ I’m used to scars that are made by hate and violence, I don’t want you to feel that. So, my dear, let me scar you with my affections for you.”

You didn’t know if you should be scared or disgusted, but at that moment, you felt nothing but relief. You weren’t alone in this torment anymore.

[penvisions]

by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 5}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Chapter Summary: Another overnight patrol, an asked favor, a miscommunication, a fleeting moment of pleasure and it all comes crumbling down. Even worse than you had anticipated, the allure of being a part of something bigger than yourself blinding you into believing it was finally within reach.

Word Count: 10.3k (!!)

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, blood, mild injuries, hurtful language, town gossip, rumors, negative feelings, pining, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, angst, hurt and comfort, joel miller's hands need their own warning, intentional flirting, unintentional flirting, casual intimacy, urges to kiss joel miller get their own warning, adult content, teasing, yearning, protective joel, fluff, this is so unbelievably soft, size kink unlocked in reader, (girl, i feel you), reader is described as smaller than joel (bc c'mon), reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name, joel and reader pov

A/N: holy shit, i am so sorry for the mix up with the original content. i'm so emotionally drained from today that i didn't realize it wasn't the final version of the chapter that i uploaded. but it's fixed, all scenes are complete and as they should be.

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

It was your fault, you realized. As you set about searching for something you remembered seeing in the house when you had first been assigned to it and moved in with Aiden. It had been one of those things that you stared at in disbelief, startling manic, nearly hysterical laughter that had turned into tears and uneven breaths. So ridiculous to have come across it over a decade after the end of the world.

A pack of index cards.

Index cards. Who needed index cards at the end of the world, when language was all people had. Skills like writing, reading, all faded away and dormant reflexes that could be called upon if and when needed.

It hadn’t mattered if you could write, had the ability to write or read when you were running for your life from Infected and humans, crashing through the remains of what was once a town or city, crashing through snapping and unforgiving forests, crashing through unforgiving open land in the hopes that you weren’t spotted a mile away by someone trying to protect what was theirs or looking for targets.

It was your fault he had pulled away to the point of beginning his…thing with Marsha. The way you had run from him, run from what you had both shared. But it didn’t mean anything, he was...Joel was…an important part of the settlement. Integrated far better than you ever had the chance to and you would just ruin it for him. He had to understand that because he too, hadn’t tried to bring it up.

Gathering them and a few of the cookbooks you had, you settled at the kitchen table. Taking the time to flip through the recipes to find simple ones that could be adapted to the more limited means the settlement could produce. Eager to find ones that Joel wouldn’t find too challenging and would like the end result of.

Just as your pen hit the paper, a knock sounded on your door. Sighing, you set it down and made your way across the front of your home to find Tommy with a crying bundle in his hands.

“Maria left me with ‘im for the day to handle some council business and he won’t stop cryin’.” He looked like he was about to burst into tears himself, but you didn’t say as much. Knowing firsthand how draining it was to look after a newborn.

“Well, good morning to you too.” You said as the man shouldered his way past you and took up half of the couch, an old backpack swinging from his elbow.

“You said to come to you for anything we needed, and I need your help.”

“How do you know I’m not bad with babies, huh? Maybe they hate me and I’m one of those women who don’t like them?”

“But you’re not. Right?” His curls were a frizzled mess, his eyes telling of his sleepless night as they widened and regarded you almost desperately. Rocking the bundle in his arms gently, holding it close, But his arms looked angled weird, totally not in a natural hold. “Joel always said I was too anxious around Sarah when she was super little and that’s why she cried for him for hours until she tired herself out. But he’s busy workin’ on finishing up that new roof before the snow really starts to come down.”

You did know who Sarah was. It had been a rather slow and somber conversation between you and Joel one day in the middle of summer. You had only been going out on patrols with him for a few months at that point. Him and Tommy focusing on getting as much done around the town upon his return, taking longer than usual to add a newcomer to the roster.

He had asked after you, if you lived alone. You had answered yes, saying you lost everyone in the initial chaos of the outbreak. Your city too densely packed for a chance to return home, the only chance at survival had been to immediately flee. He had told you something similar, that he had lost everything but his brother in the wake of the virus. You hadn’t asked after who, but he had told you of his daughter. His biological daughter with a wet chuckle at how she was too kind for this world anyway. You had looked away from his tears, knowing even back then that he needed to speak otherwise it would eat him from the inside out. To think of her constantly and not be able to talk about her must’ve hurt just as much as losing her. Mentions of her sprinkled future conversations and you were glad he trusted you with that part of himself.

 But you weren’t sure if Tommy knew you did beyond her name as chalk on a blackboard memorial in his living room.

“I’m good with babies,” You assured the man beside you. Slipping a full bottle from the side of the pack and asked him to dap it to your wrist. You licked up the milky liquid, immediately pinpointing the issue.

“It’s too bland, a little sugar mixed in won’t do any harm. But I prefer maple since it’s got the same qualities of honey but less of the local pollen. Both will help build immunity to the blooms come spring time.” Standing up, you carefully moved the baby to rest along your front, head on your shoulder and moved into the kitchen. The cap had been unscrewed by a watching Tommy and you stirred in a bit of maple syrup that had been collected outside the gates.

The bundle in your arms was still crying, though not as high a volume as when Tommy had first entered the house. Softly hushing and cooing to try and calm him. The second you touched the bottle of sweetened milk to his little lips, he quieted down and began to sip.

“Oh, thank god.” Tommy’s head was in his hands, elbows atop his knees. You settled beside him once again, smiling over at the older man. “Olive, if this is too much, I promise-“

“It’s okay, really.” You let him rest a wide palm on your knee, his fingers caressing the bare skin there as your dress skirt allowed for them to show. His eyes wide and beseeching, making sure you were really okay before he sunk into the cushions. “I’ve made peace with it a long time ago…”

It was his fault. The thought consumed him as he inspected the planks of olive wood, having brought them into the house after the first heavy coat of frost that covered the whole town after a particularly chilly night. He recalled having woken up, shivering as he yanked on a pair of thick socks and searched through the closets in the house for a spare blanket to throw over his bed. How he wondered if you were warm enough in your own bed as he donned his boots unlaced and jacket unzipped to drape another blanket he had taken from the closet over a passed out Ellie in her little studio.

And then he had wondered what type of clothing you wore to bed. When you had answered the door in your robe, it hadn’t looked like you had anything on underneath it aside from maybe underwear and a tank top. Not enough to keep your skin from the chill that tended to seep in through the panes of the windows all around Jackson, despite the blessing of functioning heaters.

He hadn’t gone after you, his attention being called away. You had run off, too startled by being interrupted and most likely embarrassed at being caught in such an intimate moment. But…it had been such a good moment until it had been shattered.

You had shown up at his door in a long dress, the skirt flowing down to your knees, thick fabric around your legs to combat the ever-present chill in the air. There was a whicker basket, handle draped over your forearm. That paired with your worn boots and wide brimmed had had been such a lovely image to open his front door to.

It had been hard not to stare at you and you talked and guided Ellie through dinner, faint music drifting into the kitchen from the living room as he set about cleaning up after each step and setting the table. It was all so domestic and he wanted for more nights like it. Just you and him and Ellie.

Sighing, you made sure to lock the front door behind you. Apron bundled up beneath your armpit and thrown in the general direction of the laundry room door on the other side of the kitchen. Filling and setting a kettle over the stove, you stood and looked out your kitchen window for a moment, taking in the fluffy snow that had attempted to stick as the dark, moody sky brought it over the town. It was still early, the sunrise more than likely about to occur, but it hidden in the overcast.

You shifted your gaze over the counters, logging the ingredients you had on hand for a possible breakfast even if you weren’t terribly hungry at the moment. When they landed on the broken mixing spoon that had decided to crack and splinter last night under your soapy hands as you cleaned up over dinner, you moved to rummage in the hall closet. The scrape of untreated wood along the floor sent a chill up your spine as your fingers closed around what you were searching for.

The thick slab of wood is covered with an old flat sheet. It had been from a tree last year, one that had lost a main branch in the same winds that had taken a whole one from your collection.

It was beautiful. Rich in color, the grain so detailed and curling in beautiful swirls. Burl added layers and looking pretty as it was set just so in the cut. You had kept it, unable to burn it for the soil. The thought of asking Joel to make you a set of cooking utensils had been in the back of your mind for nearly the entire time he had been here. But now with the crop of cutting boards artfully crafted, you were tempted to ask him to make of those from the hefty source in your hands.

But he hadn’t offered you one, hadn’t so much as mentioned that he had begun to make more and more ever since that first one he had been ‘trying out the idea’ in Tommy’s kitchen. You were hesitant to bring it up, but with the holidays only a couple weeks away…you were curious to see his reaction to the request.

You didn’t ask anything of anyone. Not even when you first got here, had taken the time to acclimate to the way life was led here within the settlement. Community, social circles, job detail, patrol. All of it had been taken in stride, and you worked for everything in your possession. Joel did too. You admired him for it.

A few moments later, you were rapping your knuckles against the man’s front door.

Ellie comes around the side, hearing it from her separate garage. She had looked frustrated, then curious, then excited.

“Hey, Olive,” She walks up to you, noticing the wood in your hands. “The old man’s not home, he went to help out with the lil guy.”

“O-oh, okay. I’ll just come back, I guess.” But when you began to inch closer to the porch steps, she ascended them with a small smile.

“Nah, come hang with me until he gets back.” She brushed past you with a soft touch to your arm. A key slid into the lock and then you were hesitantly following her into the house. “Feel free to make some of that god awful coffee you two enjoy so much, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

You saw her dip off down the hall, the sound of her rustling through something behind an open door allowing you the privacy to make up your mind on the offer of coffee as you stood on the threshold to the kitchen. With a determined push, you set about to search for the coffee grounds and mugs. He had only two, one with a detailed owl and another more simple one. It was a plain white one that was hefty and looked like it belonged in the full hands of diner waitress. 

It transported you back to late nights and early mornings surrounded by ruckus laughter and inside jokes, the scent of pancakes and bacon cooking on a flattop and the jingle of a bell to signal overflowing plates were ready to be dug into.

“What’s that in the cloth?” Ellie’s curiosity piqued by the bundle you had set down atop the kitchen table, her long thin fingers slowly unwrapping it. With a nod from you, she did so completely. Her eyebrows shot up, thoughts swirling behind her keen eyes. They flicked to the back room just on the other side of the kitchen wall. Her bottom lip was taken between her teeth and she looked like she was trying not to laugh.

“I know it’s silly, but…” You couldn’t help but feel nervous admitting it out loud, that you wanted to ask Joel to take some of his sparse free time for a personal project. You poured yourself a steaming cup of the finished coffee, searching for the sugar cannister. “This has been drying for nearly a year and I was gonna ask Joel-“

“Gonna ask Joel what?” His voice sounded from the doorway into the kitchen, startling you both. You rushed to put yourself between him and the table, a poor attempt to hide the plank of wood from his curious eyes. He looked tired, no doubt having been up more than resting all last night if he had been over at Tommy and Maria’s.

Taking that as her queue to leave, Ellie bolted out the back door with a hollered goodbye.

“Oh, um. Hi,” You waved slightly at him, unsure of how he would take to coming home to his house and finding you in his kitchen. Even if Ellie had said it would be okay. You were nervous, knowing that asking for something was a tricky thing. Even if he was so willing to give to others; his time, his attention, his skills. “I ha-have this.”

Moving out of the way as he crept closer on heavy feet, you allowed him to see the olive wood you had hauled over here.

“I-I was wondering i-if you’d be able to make a set of cooking utensils out of this? But I understand if you’re too busy, or don’t want to work with the dense wood, or don’t have the time-“

"Of course, sweetheart. I’ll try my best for you." And just like that he melted all your worries away and a smile pulled at your lips.

He easily moved the chunk of wood from the kitchen to his workspace. The muscles of his arms bulging beneath his flannel, the muscles of his shoulders straining at the fabric over his broad shoulders. All for your viewing pleasure as you followed behind him. The room was smaller than you expected, on his ground floor, just down the hall from the kitchen. But it was such a reflection on who he was.

The main desk had a comfortable looking chair, thick cushion on the seat. Atop it was an open book, propped up on a few stacked behind it and open to a stunning photograph of a deer. In the center was a partially carved figurine of the deer in the photo, shavings around it and tools lined up in a half circle around the back of it.

“How many pieces did you want?” He carefully bent his knees and lowered the wood to the ground, atop a tarp that several long pieces of lumber were set on and leaning against the wall. Blocks of wood beside them and lined up against the wall almost like bricks.

“Oh, um, just however many you can manage.” The crack of his knees as he straightened worried you, but it happened to you more and more so you understood it wasn’t really painful so much as uncomfortable most of the time. 

"The cutting boards all around town...” Trailing off as a familiar scent caught your attention through the general smell of lumber, you moved toward the pile of wooden planks lined up along the wall like books atop a work table. There were many shades and types of wood, all different steps of being sanded down or stained, shavings nestled in a waste bucket beneath. Tools scattered over the surface and small cannisters of sealant and paint stacked neatly beside them. Two of the planks of wood were light, ashy and your attention honed in on them as you moved toward the table. “It was kinda my idea and I was wondering if-"

"Sweetheart, I can't make you one." You startled at the boom of his voice so close, blocking your view from the stack of them as he moved to stand in front of you. The hand that had been reaching out with the intention of caressing them fell back to your side.

"Oh, um, okay." You cast your eyes down, taking in the worn leather of his boots. Of yours. There were so many of them, easily two handfuls and yet he wasn’t willing to share one with you. But everyone else around town seemed to be worthy and you couldn’t help but wonder why you weren’t. You were friends, he had said it himself. But then…but then you had kissed him and fled.

No question as to why flowed from you. You were used to not being included, but you had to admit that it stung coming from him. In an attempt to mask it you tried to smile but you weren’t sure if it actually showed. Your chest ached, body feeling like it wasn’t yours. Like you were looking down on it as it stood in that workspace with the man who sought solace within it. Like you had intruded, and shame bubbled up for having made yourself comfortable where you shouldn’t have.

"Can't find a sealant that would hold up to those knives we found. You'd just cause damage to it."

"Okay, but-“ You tried to backtrack, to apologize for being so curious.

"No, Olive. I don't have one for you, so please quit askin'."

You didn’t say anything, your voice stuck in your throat. Turning and walking away from him without looking up, afraid to see his expression. You faintly heard his voice calling after you, but you ignored it, it was far away. It was as if you were down in a tunnel, like you had tipped over and fell down into one the second Joel had turned you down.

You wanted to move past it, to gloss over it, to stay and enjoy in the time he had been willing to give you on his one day free from responsibilities. But you couldn’t, your chest felt like it had caved in, like you were hollow, like you would never be able to break into the social graces of the settlement. Marked with the death of someone who had, someone who kept messing up and making it easy for people to turn you away.

He thinks about how hurt you looked when he tried to ward you off from the stack of cutting boards he had practiced designs on and different shapes. berating himself for being so harsh when he had been scared you would see the wood he had taken from you without your knowledge. You had been reaching for the planks made from it, drawn to them as if they were magnetized.

The way in which you had shut down, his soothing words after denying you falling on deaf ears as you turned and simply walked away from him. He had been under the impression you wanted to spend the day with him. You had been an unexpected guest but not an unwelcome one. It had been nice to return to his home to find you there, comfortable enough to have put on a pot of coffee and the errant scent of that woodsy, floral perfume that seemed to be a part of your skin from tending to the trees in your yard.

But you had just turned and walked away.

He watched you go, not liking the way you had shrunk into yourself at his denial. He had tried to be soft with it, you couldn’t know that you had been asking after the one thing he wanted to keep a secret from you. That you had given him the idea and he was practicing and making so many different prototypes all to ensure that when it came time to craft yours, that he would be able to do so easily.

He scrubbed a hand roughly over his face, sighing out as he dressed for patrol. His alarm had gone off an hour ago but he had already been awake, sleep evading him as the moment from the other day played in his mind’s eye over and over again.

Settling on the musty cushions beside you, the memory of the last time he had done so puffed up along with a cloud of dust. It had been a long day. Clearing the village and finding a place to hole up in for the night.

“I’ll take the first watch, try ‘n get some rest.” He murmured low, taking in the way you were already curling your legs up underneath your body on the other end of the couch. The scarf around your neck pulled up for you to bury your face into it, hands in their gloves and secure in the pockets of your coat.

You didn’t think you even responded, the cold of the day draining you and making sleep too alluring a respite even with the broad man beside you and all alone for the first time in a while.

Bird calls woke you up hours later, signaling the start of a new day. The warmth of sleeping was a lull to the chill you knew awaited outside, but you pressed into the bed further, burrowing even more into the lump of blankets you tended to scrunch up beside you.

But the lump shifted and your eyes flew open to find a different setting than you dark bedroom. You weren’t asleep in your bed, you were sunk into a decrepit couch and pressed into Joel’s right side, having sought out his warmth in the cold house. He was asleep too, his eyes closed despite his body still seated up with his feet resting on the ground.

You couldn’t help but rest your cheek on his shoulder, taking comfort in how close and warm he was, even if it had been an instinctual move to begin with.

He was so handsome. Beautiful. From the scar across the bridge of his nose, the one at his temple, to the freckles that littered his tan skin. Wrinkles relaxed as he slept, his plush lips parted slightly. His body sunk into the fabric where he had settled last night, long and lean. His mass so large you had shifted in your sleep to press up against him, partially on him to share the small couch and steal his warmth. His neck bent back a little as his head lulled onto the back cushions.

Your eyes roved down the strong column of his neck, catching on the way his adam’s apple jutted out and you resisted the urge to lean in and nip at it.

His hands, dear god, his hands. They were slack in his lap, his entire body completely lax as he slept slumped beside you. Veins and freckles decorated the skin, mind running with the idea of them tight around different parts of your body. How they would feel wrapped around your hips, your breasts, your neck…

You couldn’t help but reach out and lay a hand atop one of his, your palm over the back of his. Your stomach fluttered, the heat settling low. Your own hand looked so small, atop his. The difference so startling.

“Mm, good mornin’,” Joel’s gravelly rumble made you jump, realizing you had gripped two of his fingers in your hand. He jostled the hand in your grip and you felt heat flood your cheeks at being caught touching him. When you moved to take it back, he curled his fingers, catching your hand and pulling it up to his lips where he pressed his lips to the back of it. “Don’t act all shy now, sweetheart.”

You throb.

The gusset of your underwear suddenly dampens as you clench around nothing.

“I-I don’t know what came over me, you were sleeping and I shouldn’t ha-have-“ Trying to tamp down your less than friendly thoughts, the allure you felt wash over you at his sleepy timbre, to backtrack away from what could end up being another thing to have him avoiding you around the settlement.

But he surprised you, emboldened by the hazy thoughts displayed in the parting of your own lips, the heat he could feel rolling off of you, the pressure you tried to relieve between your legs with a clench of your thighs together. And then his thick, sleep coated words turned sultry, pitched low and velvet.

“Thinkin’ about my hands on ya, huh? Sweet little thing, what was it?” He guided your hand to cup his cheek and then rest against his neck. “Thinkin’ about my hands here?”

When he squeezed your hand around it, you felt faint for the way your blood was rushing and thundering loud in your ears.

“N- no.” You swallowed, voice breathy and pitched low as you struggled to find words.

“No? What about…” He moved your hand to his chest, right in the middle of his ribcage. His heart was thundering beneath the flannel, mirroring your own. “Here?”

Your breath hitched as he moved it further, not giving you the chance to answer this time. Down ,down, down past the hem of his shirt beneath his jacket to the denim of his jeans. Pressing your palm down atop the zipper, you could feel the long line of him, hot and semi-hard. It twitched at the pressure, and you couldn’t help the whimper that fell from your lips. Eyes having been dragged down along with your clasped hands.

“What about here?” His lips grazed the shell of your ear as his question was pressed close, nose brushing sensitive skin just behind it. Mustache and beard lightly scraping against you, causing you to shiver and press down your hand more firmly. He groaned out, the sound burrowing deep into you. He twitched again beneath your palm and all the air in your lungs whooshed out.

And then he was dipping his head to capture your lips in a hard kiss. His tongue trailed over the seam of your lips, and you let him in without a thought. Pleasure flared from the heat that had taken hold of your entire body, the air crackling with the need for him to be closer, to be pressed to you completely, pressed inside of you completely. Body buzzing, needing more more more from him you shift to cup his cheek with your other hand.

When he speaks next, his voice is all soft. Southern twang breathy and so close as his lips graze yours, his forehead pressed to your own. The press of hot skin only a prelude to what you hoped was more…

“Sweetheart, I-“

The sudden creak of the back door opening cut the tension of the room and your stomach filled with dread. Joel’s hands became almost painful on you as both your heads whipped around to stare at the kitchen threshold, waiting with bated breath for the intruding source to walk through it.

He was up off the couch in a second, his handgun in his palm and he stalked silently toward the kitchen, leaving you on the couch to reach for your own. But your attention was pulled to the front door of the house just as he disappeared through the threshold.

Two shadows crept into the house and your ducked down to avoid being seen immediately.

There were sounds of a scuffle in the kitchen and you took the opportunity to sneak around the couch in a crouch and stand with the gun trained on the larger figure of the two just on the other side of it.

“Drop your gun or I shoot.” You kicked his legs apart, hand patting him down as he listened to your command. He didn’t have any other weapons on him and the woman a few feet away didn’t visibly have any, her clothing tight around her middle, large jacket draping over her to keep her swollen middle warm.

You took your eyes off of her for one second to kick the gun away and behind you when she lunged. A shiny piece of something glinted in her hand and you shouted out as it cut across your own middle.

Grunting, you elbowed the man in the ribs, winding him and sending him to crumple to the ground in pain. You kicked out and wrapped your foot around one of the woman’s legs and tugged her close, ignoring the sensation of that same piece of whatever it was in her grip as it tore into your jacket sleeve.

You smacked her hand against the wall behind her, being mindful of her stomach and was about to wrap your hands around her neck when the man wheezed out a pleading cry.

“Don’t hurt her, please!” He tired to catch is breath, but you didn’t break your focus away from the woman you had pinned down. A wave of nausea rose over you, the only indication before you collapsed, blood soaking the front of your shirt in a dark, wet patch.

“Shit, I think you cut her too deep.” The man crawled over to you, his hands pressing down to try and staunch the flow. The woman fell to her knees beside him, her hands reaching out to grip one of your arms. The clatter of the weapon she had used was loud and you looked over to it. It was a piece of dirty glass.

“I-I didn’t me-mean to hurt you so badly! I’m so sorry.”

“Fuck, okay, go to my pack.” They shared a confused look, but the fact that they hadn’t run off with yours and Joel’s supplies to their remorse at hurting you told you they were good people. “Go! There’s a spare shirt, we need it to put over the wound.”

Just as she bent to dig into the pack by the couch, Joel’s quiet steps and low threat called as he entered the room.

“Get your hands off of her and step back.”

“Wait! They aren’t Infected!” You panted, voice sharp despite the effort it was taking to breath as your middle burned, knowing the man’s instincts had taken over completely. His steps measured. His gun raised. His reasoning marred by the sight of you bleeding on the floor.

“They hurt you.” His honeyed drawl gone, replaced with an air of authority that demanded attention, all dark, rich molasses sticking everyone in place.

“It was an accident, Joel, please. They…they have a baby on the way. We have to take them back.”

“That true?” He kept the shot gun aimed at the man hovering over you, the blood shining on his hands making his nerves twitch. But his eyes landed on the woman who had been rummaging through your bag for first aid supplies. She slowly stood from her crouch, revealing her swollen belly.

He ordered them both to take a seat on the couch, telling them he would deal with them once he tended to you, letting them know that he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot if they tried something. He then kneeled down on the ground beside you, one of his large hands going over yours holding the wad of fabric to your middle, the other going to cup your cheek.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” His eyes bore into you, stern edge to them. You were visibly shaking, skin looking sallow and sweat beading at your temple. He carefully moved your hands aside, eyes flicking from your pained expression to the injury as he slowly lifted the fabric you had pressed to it. And then the hem of your sweater and tank top underneath.

Lips a grim line and eyes dark as he took in the still bleeding injury. His brow furrowed deeper as a thick rivulet ran down your side to spill onto the floor and Joel cursed under his breath. The gash was a few inches long across your stomach, to the left of your belly button, rimmed and irritated red. Angry and no doubt already infected if the shard of dirtied glass abandoned beside you was any indication. Your blood stained it, the woman’s fingertips pressed into it in smeared, red marks.

“Shit, it’s already starting to get infected.”

You managed a weak nod, both in response to his question and muttered worries fighting off the tears as he pressed around the wound, trying to get a gauge of how deep it was. You held back a whimper at the prodding, bottom lip firmly between your teeth.

“Joel, there’s gau-gauze in my pack.”

“Find it and toss it to me, quick.” He raised a threatening look to the pair on the couch, their heads turned and watching everything play out. Worried that if you were to bleed out, the man wouldn’t hesitate to retaliate or leave them here to their own devices.

The woman rushed to dig into your pack once more, fingers finding the crinkling plastic wrapped around the sterile gauze. She tossed it to Joel, the hand that had moved down from your cheek to rest over your heart on your chest reached out to snag it from the air. He ripped it open with his teeth and urged your hands to hold it down atop the wound.

You could only watch through hazy eyes as he shucked off his jacket and then his flannel. With a smooth motion he removed his t-shirt, his most base layer. With his chest on full display, the dark hair over his chest and trailing down from his belly button you startled at the sound of ripping fabric. The knife he kept holstered on the back of his waist out of is sheath as he used it to cut a thick strip from the hem of his shirt. He gently urged you to lift up from the ground for him to wind it around your back and tie it securely over the wound.

Slipping two fingers below it to ensure it was tight enough to keep pressure but not overly so as to cause more problems. It felt a thousand times better already, your nausea waning as the blood stopped flowing from your body. But you would definitely need stitches and antibiotics once back inside the gates. Once he was sure the wound was okay for the moment, he took both your hands in his, a slight tremor to them. His thumbs rubbing soothingly across the backs of them.

“Okay, you’re okay,” He murmured. He leaned down to press his forehead to yours. Breathing in deep and your lashes fluttered as he sighed out. His eyes were clenched shut and he took a moment to ground himself before he pulled back and peppered chaste kisses over your face. Your forehead, each of your cheeks, the tip of your nose. The edges of your mouth.

“I’m okay,” You promised, unable to ignore how shaky his breathing was so close. A nervous giggle sounded from you, unable to tamp it down as your head swam. “But maybe you should put your clothes back on before you freeze.”

“Can’t lose you, sweetheart.” The whispered sentiment washed over you, leaving you warm and light in the chest for a completely different reason. Only when you nodded in understanding, did he reach over for his flannel and shrug it back over his broad shoulders. The buttons closed up with deft fingers as he watched you take a mental stock of your body and how it felt. You said up just as his jacket was pulled back into place over the flannel.

“Good thing ‘m not goin’ anywhere then, huh?” His wet chuckle was the only response you got before he helped you to stand. He guided you over the couch with an arm around your shoulders, silently demanding that the pair move from the cushions to make room for you. Making sure you were comfortable with both packs beside you before he turned his attention to the people who had injured you.

A nurse took you in quickly, insisting someone else would do a thorough check on the brother and sister you and Joel had brought to them once leaving the horses at the stables. The backup shirt you had taken along with you in your pack tied to your abdomen with a scrap of fabric from the bottom of Joel’s undershirt. It was better than nothing, better than bleeding out.

You had insisted that the woman, Callie carefully got up on Lowry for the trip back. Joel had been worried about them sharing a horse together, the very real possibility of them taking off on it at the forefront of his mind. But you had assured him that they could be trusted. That they could’ve taken both your packs and left you to bleed out on the floor.

That was how you had found yourself once again sharing a horse with Joel for an entire day. The feel of his body pressed close to your back so different from when he had tried to keep his distance. His hands secure around your waist and resting atop the saddle horn. You tried not to let it distract you, carrying on casual conversation with them to get a feel for who they were. Every so often, when you grunted at particularly hard hoofbeats or a rough jostle, his right hand would press against your roughly patched wound.

Stitches, the nurse had said. At least four of them.

Joel was outside the hall, waiting for you to be released. He looked up from the notepad in his hands when you exited the room, brown eyes tired. You couldn’t read his thoughts, though you were too tired to begin to think what that could mean.

“Hey, what’d they say?” He surged up, the notebook going back into his pocket, the worn fabric snug around it. He retrieved the coat and sweater he had kept for you when the nurse had asked you to remove all outer layers.

You lifted the torn tank top, allowing him to see the clean, bright white bandage that had been taped over the injury. The fait outline of stitches could be seen through it. Two of his fingers brushed against it, almost tenderly.

“No painkillers, those are only for serious cases.” You let him help you put the sweater back on, his hands holding the head opening side for you to slid it on, gently tugging the fabric into place around your sore arms. “They gave me a shot of antibiotics and a pack of fresh gauze. Gotta come in next week to get the stitches looked at.”

“I’m so sorry.” He murmured as he held the coat up for your to slip your arms into. When you turned around to face him again, he pulled you to him in a loose embrace. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“Joel, it’s okay. We’re okay. I promise.” You leaned up, mindful of the new pull on your middle, and pressed your lips to his cheek. Sighing at the soft pressure, he walked alongside you out of the building.

Since there wasn’t anything they could give you for the pain,  you just wanted to lay in bed and rest. But you also wanted to try and find a reason to get out of the house later. Swallowing down your fear of rejection, knowing he was the one person who wouldn’t do that to you, you asked him for a drink later in the evening.

But he didn’t look up from the paper in his hands as he walked out the front door with you, scribbling something down on a page that only had two previous lines of script. The chill of the wind breezing past you both as you repeated your question in slightly louder volume, sure he just hadn’t heard you. You knew he was hard of hearing in his right ear and that was the side you were on. But what you didn’t expect was his haphazard response. So at odds with the tenderness and care he had shown you throughout the day.

"Huh? Oh uh, I can't tonight. Sorry, I'll see ya, Olive." And then he's off without so much as a glance your way, leaving you standing outside the infirmary. It left you more than a little concerned, whiplash at the sudden shift from intimate, to protective, to nothing so much as a glance all from the same man.

It’s early, the sun not even showing signs of rising. Snow drifted down, a perfect morning. You were humming to yourself, mentally planning out the meals you could make. A breakfast casserole that would allow for the use of root vegetables, eggs, some of the goat cheese that had been made perhaps. You were minding your own business, enjoying the walk to the mess hall and the kitchen that would allow you to work and forget the hollow feeling that hadn’t left you all last night. It was easier feeling nothing other than the faint pull of stitches on your abdomen.

You catch a figure walking out of a front door further down the street. The figure broad but their steps light as they descended the porch to Marsha’s house.

Oh.

It was Joel.

He didn’t have a utility belt, he didn’t have a toolbox, he didn’t have anything that indicated he had been there to repair something.

It was Joel Miller, leaving Marsha’s house. Far too early to mean anything other than the fact that he had spent the night inside, with her. Guess that's why he had turned down your offer for an evening with you. He already had someone to share drinks with, someone to spend his time with.

Turning, you tried not to follow his figure as he began to walk down the street, facing away from you.

You could only think that it was because of the way you had run the other night. Because of the way you two kept giving into yearning touches only for the moment to be yanked away. Three times now, far too much trouble for someone as busy as him. Someone with a life like he led as he cared for his family and the repairs that were needed around the settlement. You were desperate, for company, for attention, for him. It must’ve not settled well with him to realize how much you wanted him and that it never seemed to work out in his favor, only friend or not.

Deep down, you knew that wasn’t the reason. He was such an understanding man, and he wouldn’t put the blame on you. But the fact of the matter was that he was willingly spending his time with Marsha.

He wasn’t sure where you had disappeared to, your house dark safe for the light over the stoop light up in a warm tone. He had a box in his hands, something he had rifled through his, Ellie’s, and Tommy’s homes for to fit the finished set of wooden utensils you had asked him to make.

He had taken his time, sneaking glances at the ones in your kitchen when he dropped you off after patrol one morning and you offered him a light lunch. You had made grilled sandwiches, pairing them with some steamed vegetables that were beginning to wilt in the cold air of the house. You ran the heat on a good middle range, to ensure it didn’t get too stuffy and begin to take a toll on the record collection in the living room or the books you kept on every surface and crammed lovingly into the many bookshelves you had.

You seemed to favor spoons, though he did catch sight of a few rather flat spatulas. He had inspected the wood thoroughly before he even thought of measuring it. Admiring the way the dried wood looked and taking notes down on the pad of paper he kept on him at all times. Compared it to the two planks he had, noting the different feel and heft of them versus the completely dry specimen you had brought to him.

He let his thoughts wander as he took a seat on the cold concrete steps of your stoop. Opting to wait for your return for a few moments, hoping that you would return soon as evening had fallen, the set having set a few hours ago. He didn’t recall you mentioned evening shifts at the mess hall, opting for the mornings that you enjoyed. Something about the quiet of the town, less lonely than the nights, had been a quiet admittance. He had been too shocked to respond, you must’ve taken his silence as the end of the conversation. You had turned quiet alongside him, the only sound for the rest of the route back to the gates had been the hooves along the ground.

It struck him now, that you had been admitting even early on how lonely you were. How the town choosing to not interact with you had hurt, had been hurting you. A warning even then, that you were sensitive to the dynamic and went along with it even if you didn’t agree with it. You were such a lovely person. Kind hearted, giving, caring, and he loathed that people like Marsha perpetuated the agenda against you.

She was relentless in her attention on him and he was getting a little annoyed with it. But he was being cordial, the exact word you had used to describe the woman. He had finished the last of her shelving the other day. He had worked overnight to get it fitted and fastened to the wall. Securing it with bolts and weight holding supports, wanting to be done with the project that had been more of a coercion of his skills. She was a manipulator and he had played into her hands just like she had wanted.

He felt like a fool, knowing he had agreed to do it for your sake and out of a need to protect you.

Then he realized there were two people who allowed you into their lives. That spoke fondly of you, invited you to dinner, allowed you shares of what they could get the last of in down on main street.

Standing, he hoped to find you among his family. Making his way his way to Tommy’s, Maria was the one to answer the door. A finger to her lips to signal him to keep quiet as she slipped out the door to join him on the porch.

“They’re both sleeping, it took an hour to get him down and then of course Tommy slumped over.” She didn’t seem upset, but the news allowed for Joel to realize you weren’t here either. Clocking his silence and the box in his hand, she cocked her head up a little to examine his features. “Everything okay, Joel? Olive didn’t pull her stitches already, did she?”

“Yeah, everythin’ is okay. I’m actually looking for her. Have you seen her today?” He shuffled on his feet, aware of how they ached as the cold settled in to stay for the season.

“She’s at the bar, came by with dinner for us on her way out.” Maria explained, watching his closely. Able to pick up on his agitation. It was odd when she compared it to the almost forces nonchalance you had exhibited earlier.

“Can you hold onto this for me, I’ll be back to get it tomorrow.” He thrusted the box into the woman’s hands and was making off down the street before she could even respond.

The bar is a cacophony of sounds, of laughter, of conversation, the clink of glasses being lifted and then placed back on tables. The gurgle of more drinks being poured, of ice tinkling in glasses, all of it was so nice to just sit in and enjoy. Even if you were alone on your stool.

"Another round?" You disguised the clenching of your hand around your empty glass, the voice right behind you. His voice, the charming drawl pitched low and so so close.

“I don’t think we should be drinking with each other.” You shifted away from him, not wanting him to think you were open to spending time with him after his rejection, after his secret of seeing Marsha was exposed to you in the form of his leaving her house far too early for any reason than having stayed the night, for the way you had wanted to say yes to spending time with him but it hurt too much. For the way that it was getting harder and harder to resist the urge to lean up and kiss him, to run your hand down his arm or back in a soothing caress. “I’m waiting for someone.”

His brow furrowed as he regarded you, lifting his drink to his lips and taking a deep pull from the amber liquid inside. He sat down atop the stool beside you despite your words. His glass settled on the bar top, now empty. Your eyes were focused on the melting ice, not able to look at the man who was giving you his attention.

“What’s that?” He huffed, almost chuckled as he believed you were just joking, teasing him like you tended to do sometimes while out on patrol. But you weren’t, both of you seated at the long bar of the Tipsy Bison on the main street in town. When you still didn’t raise your eyes to him, he realized you weren’t, that you were turning him down and away.

“Tell me the real reason,” He leaned close, pivoting the seat of the stool so you faced him. Your insides whooshed with the movement. With the way he demanded your attention, with the entirety of his focus on you almost breaking your resolve to remain professional. Aware of all the eyes constantly watching you, judging you; all the eyes on him constantly watching for entirely different reasons, fawning over him.

“Because I like you.” You admitted, unable to deny him the truth. You could only lift your eyes as high as his lips, which was a mistake as you recalled the feel of them. They were so soft, so plush and you never had the chance to gently nip at his bottom one…

“Well, I like you too, Olive.” His nose brushed your cheek, moving impossibly close, his thumbs digging into your thighs as he held to the stool.

“No, I like you, Joel. And this isn’t a good idea.” You pulled back, aware that you were both in a very public place. That the looks focused on you both, your intimacy, combined with soft murmurs of voices that could be saying anything. Making notions in their minds that he was associated with you, that he spent time with you enough to feel comfortable engaging in this type of behavior. And that was bad, it was so bad for people to associate him with you. It would cause people to question him after everything he did for the town. It would begin to erase all the good he had provided.  “Joel, people are looking.”

“Don’t worry about them, just focus on me.” Your eyes snapped to his, taking in the way the brown of them was alight from the sconces around the bar. There was no hesitancy in them, no remorse. Only adoration and your stomach swooped, your heart fluttered. But you tried your best to resist.

“That’s not a good idea either.” You whispered.

“You thinkin’ of doin’ somthin’ to me?”

“M-maybe.” The admittance rolls off your tongue, his lips close enough that he can taste it.

“Sweetheart, I’d let ya if that’s what you wanted.”

“N-no.” It took everything in you to deny him, to deny the tension that pulled your muscles tight in every part of your body.

“No?” He leaned back, taking your words and heeding them, sensing that you meant them, even if it was a stuttered, breathy response.

“I don’t want to, I mean I do, but- this” You motioned between the two of you, how little space there was between your bodies. His body pivoted toward you and his hands still partially around the denim of your thighs. “Isn’t a good idea.”

His eyes roamed over you, seeing the nerves and truth of your demeanor. You did like him, and it was becoming a problem. He didn’t need a younger woman fawning over him, the friendly rapport riddled with holes. Of temptations that were tamped down by his unwillingness to share his craft with you, the time he had been spending with Marsha, the pull of his attention in so many directions, especially with the holiday hurtling toward the town tomorrow.

“We’re hardly friends, Miller. You barely started acknowledging me outside of patrol.” You reached for your drink so you’d be less likely to cup his face in your hands and throw caution to the wind.

“What makes you think I haven’t been tryin’ to keep my hands to myself, bein’ around you?” His voice tipped low, to avoid being overheard despite the closeness he had initiated. Closing your eyes at the visual, you shook you head as your throat bobbed with the sip you had taken from your drink.

“Because you don’t like me that way.” You scoffed, beginning to lean away from him. “You didn’t even get me anything for the holiday…You’re with Marsha.”

“Didn’t get your name in swap.”

“Oh.” And all the fight you had in you crumbled at his simple words. The reassurance in his voice that drowned out the hum of the environment all around you.

“But I thought - Ellie was asking so many questions I figured she was doin’ the work for you.”

“Maybe she got you?” He tapped the lip of his glass as the bartender wandered close, signaling for another when the man got the chance. His hand going back to your leg in a second.

“N-no. She got Jesse. Whoever got me most likely tossed the scrap of paper and picked another.”

“Marsha and I are just friendly, it’s nothing beyond that. Olive, I swear to –“

Someone cleared their throat unnervingly close. You both turned away from each other to face the person who had decided to break the currents flowing between your bodies, tension thick in the air with their approach.

Marsha. With a wrapped gift in her hand and a yearning look for Joel. Her attention solely on him.

“So much for just being friendly, huh, Miller?” You set your drink down, glass nearly empty and pushed off from your stool. The drag of his large hands over the tops of your thighs not registering as you quickly took off. Leaving him to the woman who seemed to be a constant companion as of late. Better company for him, you though begrudgingly as you made your way through the snow-covered streets and back to the safety of your home.

Sighing, you picked up the wrapped bundle of recipe cards. Joel’s gift.

The one you had spent hours pouring over, making sure your writing was neat and legible, the cursive loops delicately over the lines on the thick cardstock. You had debated whether or not he would be able to read the script, knowing how he squinted at certain things. No doubt needing glasses in his older age, an item you always kept a keen eye out for should it end up being a perfect match for him.

Your heart panged, the fleeting image of him tucked in bed beside you with a book or manual in his hands and a pair of reading glasses perched on his aquiline nose. His scruff catching the light of a soft bedside lamp and the silver sparkling. His curls damp from an evening shower, the scent of him so clean and pure beside you as you lay tucked in the other side. It hurt. It hurt to think you would never get to experience that, experience him in every simple, mundane way.

With a long-suffering huff, you reached for some of the dried leaves you kept from the trees when you last preened them. Fastening it to the top of the bundle with a piece of twine. You don’t write Joel’s nor yours. He would know it was from you from the writing inside, from the olive twig. A parting gift, you guessed.

This would be the last thing you would offer him before drawing back to your solemn life. He had brought color and life and laughter into it, but the hurt wasn’t worth it. Your heart and body aching for a man who had too much to lose.

You faintly heard soft voices trailing along the dark streets, the light fixtures doing their best to illuminate the way for any one who was out at the late hour. The sky dark with the added overcast that hadn’t waned during the day. Making everything feel pressed down and low, condensing the world to make it feel almost suffocating. Snow soft as it descended. Maybe it was just you, sensitive to the weather and things around you in your anxiety as you turned down the street Joel’s house was nestled on. Just as you turned the corner, feet scuffing on the weathered gravel packed down to create solid paths in the broken asphalt you collided with something hard and lost your balance. The built up snow making it hard to catch yourself.

The scrunch of paper you had wrapped the gift in was loud, ripping at the drag of thick fabric that made up someone’s coat. The index cards fly up into the air as you landed heavily on your side. Through the sounds of the fluttering paper, there was a gasp pitched high that gave way to delirious giggles and a grunt pitched low. Your own indignant noise floating amidst it all, the pull of your stitches uncomfortable.

“My apologies, didn’t see you the- Olive?”

You had run into Joel’s broad back, his front now facing you as the cards rained down to scatter all over the corner. Snow dampening them instantly upon contact, blurring the ink you had taken the time to put down to them.

Behind him was a bright-eyed Marsha, her hands holding tight to one of his. She looked flushed, no doubt from the drinks she had indulged in, leaning heavily into him. And Joel…he looked shocked as he stared down at your fallen form. Either unaware or uncaring of how the woman he was with tried to burrow into his side.

They had been the ones whose voices you heard. But what had they been doing just standing still in the middle of the street….and then it hit you. They had probably been kissing or sharing in casual touches as they walked back from the bar to one of their homes for the evening and your stomach lurched, dropping out from under you.

Joel detached from her, intending to reach down and help you back up. But you didn’t want him touching you with the same hands that had been soft just an hour ago, the same hands that had been touching her with the same intent.

“Don’t!”

“Just tryin’ to help you up,” He backed off immediately, his eyes alert, not used to you raising your voice nor the heat behind your tone. Especially toward him, the hurt making you unable to tamp it down to a polite tone. Tears burned behind your own eyes, in your throat. The perfect match to your insides feeling like they have just been set in a mixer.

“Don’t need your help,” You pushed up from the ground, legs tingling as you fought the urge to run from the awkward and tense scene. And then you realized you could. You did.

Leaving the two alone in the middle of the street, surrounded by white spots of paper all around, the wrapping that had been around them crumpled on the ground. The dried olive leaves that had been fastened to it with twine lay abandoned at their feet.

You ran all the way back to your house, the front door slamming behind you and the lock loud in the silence that followed. Your back thumped against the wood of it, sliding down until your bottom hit the floor.

And you let yourself break down, crying into your hands. Hating how you had begun to believe that your life was going to change, that Joel was going to be something good in your life. And deep down, underneath all the hurt and anger, you still believed he was. Even if he wasn’t meant to be anything other than a patrol partner.

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dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

taglist: @merz-8 @morning-star-joy @joelsgreys @orcasoul @sawymredfox @sabmat @dreamingofleon @keylimebeag @pascalpvnk @picassopedro @tuquoquebrute @alejaa-a @jessthebaker @littlemisspascal @joeloverture @joelscruff @swiftispunk @tightjeansjavi @undercoverpena @idontknowyou-12345 @corazondebeskar @honeyedmiller @novas-dreamworld @slugz-writes-shit @fluff-lover @hiroikegawa @dugiioh @persephone-girl @furiousmushroom @communism-bitches @formulafun @copperhalfcent @lizlil @hiddenbabynyc @ohhellotherebumblebee

[ghost-bxrd]

How would Mini Bruce react to Batman slitting Jason's throat? Maybe not even during the Joker confrontation, maybe Batman was especially pissed the Red Hood had a child working for him and he threw the batarang but it missed and hit Jay's throat?

Oh geez, I think he’d go nuclear. Like, full out Robin King insanity for a hot second.

It’s going to become more apparent the further we progress through the story, but Jason really managed to establish himself as mini!Bruce’s parental figure during the time he spent in that alternate dimension, and a lot of the trust and love between them was established because Jason proved time and time again that he’s a capable fighter. Someone who’s not going down easily (the way his parents did). Someone who won’t ever leave Bruce behind if he can help it.

So, watching an older version of himself seemingly kill the only family he had left? In such a brutal fashion?

Yeah, you can bet this is the one time mini Bruce would go in for the kill… against himself.

And depending on how that goes and how long that rage and hysterical despair lasts… he would drop down by Jason’s side and just— scream. And cry. And try to stop all that blood from leaving Jason because Jason needs that blood please oh god why is there so much blood where are the pearls why can’t he hear the gunshot—

[writingoddess1125]

How does buggy and Shanks handle their daughters s first period?

Oh Honey- it was a fucking disaster 🤣

I have the Shanks one right here if your interested but I'll do a Buggy one as a quick story!

Press Here if you Love Buggy <-

Old Man Series Masterlist <-

• Buggy didn't really grow up around girls- So he is inexperienced with periods and such till he started dating you.

• "Where is Bubbles?-" Buggy muttered to himself, noticing immediately that Ari was missing. He looked to see you were with Ali and disapeared to the back to find his missing daughter.

• But since he knew the time would come, he had the conversation with you ahead of time about what to do when that day comes.

• It was Ari and Ali 11th birthday party. Of course he threw a big party, like he did for both sets of twins-

• Buying them all matching nice clothes, stocking up on the best of everything and even going as far as the dock in a place with lots of kids so there were plenty of playmates.

• This was no different from the other parties, the sun just starting to set and the live music was blaring as his ship was packed with people.

• However one thing was off'

• "Ari?...Bubbles?...." Buggy called out, looking around the lower deck to see if he could spot her. After a moment he stepped towards the bedroom that the twin girls shared and heard it-

• Rushing in quickly at hearing his daughter crying he came in to see her face buried in her knees and sobbing.

• Crying?

• "Uhhhhhh Shit"

• "Bubs?-" He stared at her, Her looking up up at him with wide eyes. That's when Buggy sees it- Blood. Staining her pale pink dress to high hell and some on her exposed legs

• Which ment...

• "No No! its fine! It's actually normal!" He said loudly.

• "Get out!" She cried, Lunging forward and slamming the door on his face.

• "B-Bubbles it's alright! Sorry I didn't knock uh-" Buggy stuttered trying to figure out his course of action now.

• "Go away! Im sick!?" She sobbed from behind the door- Buggy panicking himself as he tried to think.

• "W-What?!- How is this normal!?" She sobbed hysterically.

"It means-" Buggy sighed as he sat on the floor with his back against the wall. "It means your growing up Bubby-" He said softly, Ari sniffled and wiped her cherry nose.

• Buggy stood there for a second, Hearing her cry. Before sighing heavily himself to calm himself- "Can I come in Ari?" He said softly, sending his hand off to get the supplies he knew you kept in your bathroom.

• After a second the door cracked open and Buggy stepped in slowly, Seeing Ari now seated again still in tears.

• Buggy entered a bit awkwardly but leaned against the wall as he daughter cried.

- "What does this mean?" Ari whimpered, sniffling into her knees.

"I dont like it-"

"Ahh noone does. But thats just part of life" He said a bit sadly. His hand returning with a bag which he tucked to his side at the moment.

"It is your period Ari, it means. That your a woman, like your mother" He started, internally cringing at having to have this talk with her. She looked up to him, as he started to explain- Clearly both of them embarrassed about the situation as Buggy tried to be as mature of an adult about it.

"Oi! The party is just starting Whats going on?" Bee yelled out, Banging on the door. Buggy opening his mouth to yell at his sons to fuck off- but he was beat to him.

"So this is gonna happen for the rest of my life?-" She clarified, Buggy nodding calmly knowing damn well she didn't like that answer.

"Yep until your old and wrinkled like me-"

Ari sighed irritated at this- Groaning in frustration. Buggy could only nod at her reaction-

"Yep. Once a month.. That is why we got these-" He said calmly as he brought the bag out and passed it to her.

"There are instructions inside and I can go get your mother to run down how some of that shit is u-"

"Hey!" Bee called out, smacking the door making father and daughter duo snap back from the conversation. Buggy hand quickly flying up to lock it so the boys didn't barge in- He knew this was already a sensitive situation for Ari and she didn't need her brothers getting in.

Dee starting to argue with Bee about leaving the two- clearly more socially aware.

"GO AWAY!" Ari screamed, making even Buggy jump a bit. Clearly having his lungs it seemed even if she was typically very resevered. He heard the boys scramble away pretty quickly after that. Buggy sighing at this-

"Come on Princess- Let's get you all washed up and we can get you a new dress okay?" He said sincerely, his little girl nodding as he helped her up and escorted her to go use the shower in the master bedroom.

• Buggy quickly gets you to come down from the party, giving a quick run down of the situation to you and sends you off to the bathroom with Ari.

• He knew he couldn't find an exact match and that Ari really liked this dress it being matching to Ali who was still partying upstairs.

• Buggy now tasked with figuring out what to do about the damn dress! He searched through his daughters closet to find something similar for her to wear but failing-

• "You dyed it?" She questioned gently taking it from his hands- feeling the fabric was still ever so slightly damp as well. Knowing he must has used all his strength to dry it as quickly as possible after his quick dye.

• "Think damn it!" He hisses, Looking around at what to do. Before it clicker and he runs to the supply room of the ship-

• You and Ari stepping out into the hall after a while. Ari freshly showered and in comforble clothes- clearly upset and not wanting to go out in her long pajamas for everyone to see and question.

• "It's okay honey-" You try to reassure but Ari face was sour and clearly uncomforble. You sighing and rubbing her back to comfort her.

• In moments Buggy rushed towards you two, you raising an eyebrow at your husband who haf splatters of black over his face and clothes.

• Buggy smiled down at his grumpy daughter-

• "Feeling better?" He asked, getting a shrug in response. He expected as much.

• "Well, if you're still in the partying mood since it is your birthday afterall- I fixed your dress!" He said cheerfully. You and Ari looking surprised at this since their was no way to completely remove such a heavy blood stain-

• Grinning as he pulled from behind his back the dress, now a deep dyed Purple color.

• "Well, Dark dye covers red stains so- Yeah" He said with a grin.

• Ali didn't her own period till a year later 2 weeks before their 12th birthday and at this point Buggy was prepared and mentally almost ready.

• Ari eyes well up with tears and she hugs him tightly. "Thank you Dad!"

• Buggy smiled at this and hugged her back. "Of course Princess, Now go get dressed. Your missing your party!"

• Ari smiled, now clearly happy as she rushed off to her room to change out of the provided PJs and into her new dress.

• You smile at Buggy, Proud of him for handling this so well. Kissing his cheek that didn't have the dye on it "Great Job Honey"

• After that Ari returns to her sister, The two going about eating, Opening presents and more.

• The rest of the party goes off without a hitch-

•Much to Buggy's relief-

• However sends you to handle it anyway-

[cameronspecial]

(I have a lot of ideas sorry for the spam)

drew x reader where he cooks all the time cause she can’t cook, but she starts to feel bad cause he cooks everyday. So before he come back from work she try to make dinner but she hurts herself. Maybe cut herself or burned herself on the stove and when he gets home, he sees her trying to hide her injury because she is embarrassed. He gets a bit mad but not like mad mad just worried mad yk? Like “what the hell happened? I told you i would make dinner tonight!” And she cry and be like “I’m sorry I just wanted to make you happy” and he comforts her and say she shouldn’t be sorry.

Kitchen Nightmare

Pairing: Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: Cooking Injury and Blood

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

Masterlist

Y/N can’t cook. It is no secret on set that the girl is notorious for being a nightmare in the kitchen. The meat she cooks is always overcooked on the outside but raw on the inside. The rice she makes is always way too mushy or just hard as a rock. It’s like the universe only gave her the ability to cook food at either end of the extremities. The cast of Outer Banks loves her, but they dread going over to her house for dinner because it means they would have to utilize their acting skills to not make her feel bad about her cooking. When she started dating Drew, everyone felt relief that they would never have to eat her cooking again because Drew promised to take care of it. And Y/N was very grateful for that because the truth is that she hated cooking and she knew how bad she was at it. She never told her castmates because she found it amusing to watch them fake liking her food. 

However, she is beginning to feel bad that Drew is always the one who cooks. She knows he is more than happy to, but she also knows that being the one to think of a meal every day can be stressful. Her decision to help him out tonight scares her, yet she is determined to do something nice for him. Ordering food didn’t seem like a personal gesture, so she asked his mom for the casserole recipe she knew he loved so much. 

She feels like it is starting well. She has all the ingredients and the right tools. The first thing she has to do is get the chicken breasts out and washed. She is setting it in the pan and notices how thick the chicken looks. Her hand finds the packaging and realizes she made the mistake of not buying thin-cut chicken. She needs this dinner to be perfect, so she takes it out of the pan and gets it onto the cutting board. The knife shakily meets the chicken’s muscles and slices it apart. She always feared using knives. She knows how clumsy she is and can always imagine the disaster that would occur. Stuck in her own mind, it is exactly what happened. Her hand slips against the raw meat and the knife glides against her skin. A red line blooms across her finger. It is a scary situation and she knows she shouldn’t laugh, but the only thing that comes to her mind is a scene from Bob’s Burgers. Her cut is in the exact same place as Bob’s and now, all she hears is Linda saying finger crotch repeatedly. 

Drew enters the apartment to the smell of raw chicken and the faint hint of iron associated with blood. What is even more scary than the unknown source of blood? Finding his girlfriend laughing hysterically with a knife in one hand and her other bloodier than a slaughterhouse. He rushes to his girl, taking her hand into his. “What the hell happened?” he questions, piecing the scene together as he looks around the room. “I told you I would make dinner.” Her crazed state is now dying down and her laughter turns to soft cries. 

“I’m sorry I just wanted to make you happy. I know cooking every day can be stressful and that you miss your mom’s cooking. I wanted to surprise you.”

He feels bad about his harsh anger, pulling her into a hug with a kiss to the temple. “That’s really sweet, Sweetie. I’m sorry I was so angry. I just get worried when you cook. I don’t want you getting hurt,” he explains, combing his fingers through her hair. She nods. He gets a clean towel to apply pressure on her wound and gets his car keys out. He rushes her through the door. “Let’s get you to the hospital and then maybe to cooking lessons.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

[sarafinamk]

Fallen Angel (Smiling Critters Space Riders AU Reader Insert) Part 4

Summary: Bobby has been dealing with a lot of guilt ever since you went into rehab. Now that you're finally getting released, she's determined to make it up to you.

Two chapters in one day! Let's go! Check out the other parts here. The Smiling Critters Space Riders AU belongs to @onyxonline. Enjoy!

TW: Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Injury, Trauma, Death mentions, Mentions of assassination attempts, Religious Trauma, Religious Imagery and Symbolism, Religious Cults, Mentions of Drug Addiction, Self harm Attempt, Mention of Suicide Attempt, Mental Health Issues, Brief Anxiety Attack, Slight cursing, LOTS of negative thoughts, Implied Abuse, Conditioning

----------

Bobby woke up and shot herself out of bed before her alarm could finish its first beep. She puts on her uniform, goes through her usual routine, and finishes by the time everyone else wake up. The other riders exchange worried glances amongst each other but they say nothing to Bobby.

Today’s the day the riders pick you up from the treatment center so you can continue to serve your sentence with them. Sure, serving your sentence in the same station where they kept the other prisoners would seem like the obvious choice, if you were any other enemy to the galaxy, that is. But the fact is, you’re not, and Commander Ludwig isn’t sure just how many more break-ins he and the medical staff are able to handle.

Of course, word would get around that the Prototype’s archangel was being confined at HQ’s treatment center. To no one’s surprise, anyone with a vendetta and a craving for bloodshed, would try to find you and your cell. You never got hurt, at least. No extra security measures are enough to dissuade them it seems.

Bobby gets herself situated in the cockpit, glancing back and forth between the starry scenery, the clock on the wall, and the navigation tab open in front of Dogday. She sighs while absent-mindedly bouncing her leg hard enough to turn the couch into a massage chair.

“Are you sure you want to come with us, Bobby?” Dogday’s concerned voice pulls her out of her thoughts. “It’s okay if you want to stay behind while we get (Y/n). There’s no pressure. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

Bobby gives her best reassuring, confident smile.

“Dogday, I appreciate your concern, but I can’t avoid (Y/n) forever. I have to face them eventually. And I really do want to see them.”

There is a brief moment of silence before Dogday sighs, nods, and goes back to piloting the ship. Bobby goes back to glancing out the window, her smile quickly disappearing.

She didn’t lie. She really wanted to visit you. Just once. Everyone else has visited you at least a few times, but Bobby couldn’t even find the courage to visit you after what happened in your old prison cell. None of her teammates held it against her, but she sure as heck did. She's a trained medic for crying out loud! She shouldn't have been acting hysterical the way she was, especially when you needed her the most. She's dealt with blood and injuries before. She's dealt with a few mentally unstable cultists during her time as a Space Rider. She's even helped out people in similar situations like you before.

No!

She has to remember that she may not have been much help during such a critical moment, but help came to you on time. You’re surrounded by trained medics and from what the other riders have told her, you’ve been recovering well in the treatment center. That's what matters!

Part of her, however, still holds onto the fear that if she visited your cell, she would find you all bloody and on the edge of death again. Some nights, she would have nightmares about that.

What if it happens today?

Soon enough, they arrive at the Space Station. Straightening her uniform and taking a deep breath, Bobby follows Dogday into the station. Thankfully, the treatment center was close to the hangars. It made the transporting of the injured easier for everyone.

The pair stop at the entrance. Dogday looks back at Bobby with a reassuring smile, gesturing back to the hangars. Bobby returns the smile, more sincere and determined this time. She shakes her head and stares at the neon sign above the entrance. She is going to see you today and she will not back down.

Not this time nor any time going forward.

Dogday nods in understanding, and the pair make their way inside. They check in and wait which didn't take long. Dogday sees you first, and greets you warmly. Bobby turns to where her captain was looking and there you were.

You walk out the hallway with two riders and a doctor. Bobby frowns upon seeing the handcuffs on you. She hated the idea of you being locked in a cell while needing to be hospitalized. Sure, you’ve done terrible things, and you served a terrible being, but you must’ve had a good reason. Call her crazy but she believes there is some good in you.

The riders hand Bobby your bag and stand at attention while the doctor and Dogday discuss your treatment plan going forward. Bobby tries to pay attention, but finds herself too busy staring at you. In her defense, how can she not? She's seeing you for the first time in six months.

She was ACTUALLY seeing you without any bandages, bruises, cuts, or that awful mask you always wore. For the first time, Bobby is seeing the real you, the one everyone called the Archangel. Her teammates were right about you. Not only do you look healthier, but you just look...

Beautiful.

Like...

REALLY beautiful.

You glance her way, and she smiles and waves (albeit very awkwardly). You nod in her direction and turn your focus back to the conversation between Dogday and the doctor.

Oh god, this is awkward.

After a brief exchange of thank you's and goodbyes from both sides, Bobby and Dogday quickly escort you back to the ship.

----------

You internally breathe a sigh of relief the moment you entered the Space Riders’ ship. You weren’t sure how much longer you could handle all those eyes glancing your way. You were waiting for someone to come out of the shadows some way and finish you off just like those intruders that try to break into your cell.

Now that thought made you tense up again despite it being only you and the eight Space Riders in this ship. You couldn't sense any other energies in the ship, but that didn't ease your racing mind one bit. Who knows what the Space Riders will do to you now that they are not forced to follow social protocols?

You still have those damn power mufflers on you. Sure, that shouldn't stop you from fighting, but not only are you surrounded by four riders who have celestial powers, but you're surrounded by four non-celestial riders who, unfortunately, handle themselves well in combat. Unless you can outsmart all eight of them and break your power mufflers in the process, you don't see yourself winning this fight. It's best to be smart about all this.

"Okay, so, first things first, welcome back, (Y/n). We're happy that you're here with us," the Captain begins while clasping his hands together, making you stand straight at full attention. "It's okay, relax. It's just introductions. Nothing formal."

You're not sure if this is supposed to be a test or not, but you would rather not risk failing it when you just got here. You continue to stand at full attention, waiting for the Captain to continue. The Captain sighs, and clears his throat before continuing

"Anyways, I know there's a lot to do and discuss, and you probably have some questions. Don't worry, we'll get to that in time. But since this is your first day back, I think it would be best to try and get you settled in. I can show you where you'll be staying and-"

"Actually," interrupted Bobby, "I can show (Y/n) where they'll be staying."

"Are you sure?" the Captain asks with hesitation in his voice.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure."

The only response she is met with is silence. You wait for something to happen: an argument, physical discipline, a speech, or a fair sentence. You never saw the Captain incorporate the type of punishments that the Prototype did.

At least in public anyways.

But now that he is no longer in the public eye, you're not sure if you're ready to witness the truth for the first time, but you prepare yourself for it anyways. Instead, to your surprise, the first thing the Captain does is take the handcuffs off you, but not the power mufflers.

"Okay, if you're sure."

Bobby cheerfully thanks the Captain and escorts you to the direction of the prison cells. You reach the entrance leading to the prison cells, but Bobby just... passes it. Did she not pay attention to where she was going? Why is she passing it?

You want to ask, but you force yourself to keep quiet. She could be looking to punish you for making her suffer with your selfishness. That’s why she never visited you during your rehabilitation. Instead, she leads you to the riders’ sleeping quarters and into one sleeping quarter that you know was never occupied. All the furniture arranged was as you remember it from previous battles except the bed is now neatly made.

“Here we are. Your new room. It’s not much, but I think it’ll be a nice change of environment for you after being hospitalized for almost a year.”

Not much? This is a lot more than what you see in the sleeping quarters back home. This is much more than the cells you were in for the last several months. If this isn’t “much” to the heretics, then what does having a lot look like to them?

“Crafty and I made some clothes for you. She noticed you like having your head covered, so we made you a lot of hoodies.”

You silently take in every little detail of the room.

“This is all mine?”

“Yes, it is. We weren’t sure how you wanted your room decorated, but we’ll figure that out over time.” Why would it matter how you wanted to decorate this room?  At least the Space Riders are giving you, their prisoner, one in the first place. It’s selfish to ask for more than what you deserve. “Picky is making a special dinner to celebrate your recovery and coming back. I’ll come get you when it’s ready. I’ll leave you alone to get settled.” Bobby’s voice cuts off your thoughts, even when you don’t say anything. She smiles and makes her way to the door.

“Thank you,” you say suddenly. Bobby stops dead, turns to you slowly. Her eyes widen.

“What did you say?”

You clear your throat and straighten yourself up. “Considering the fact I’m your prisoner, this is a very generous accommodation.”

Bobby continues to stare at you, and you're questioning if you said the wrong thing already. Not even one hour into your return and you’re already making mistakes. Maybe she’ll change her mind and decide a cell is a more fitting place, but instead of her screaming, or silence and storming away from you, she smiles. “You're not our prisoner here, (Y/n). You're our guest. We want to help you get better. I’m just happy that you’re here with us.”

With that, you are left alone. You hastily dig into your bag which Bobby must have placed in the on the dresser. Thankfully, your journal and the books given to you by Bubba were still there.

You pull one of the drawers and they were full of very thick long-sleeved shirts with hoods. “Hoodies” as Bobby called them. But… which one are you supposed to wear? Bobby never specified which one was mandatory for you, and you couldn’t just ask. You would get punished for not knowing when it should be obvious. You grip the skin of your forearm tightly.

No.

No, no.

No, no, no.

Fight back the temptation to see red! You can’t risk being sent back again. Just take some deep breaths.

In…

Hold…

Out…

Repeat.

Just like the healers taught you. Soon enough, your grip loosens and thankfully, there was no sign of red.

You look back at the drawer of “hoodies.” Since the Space Riders wear white while off duty, then perhaps the white one would be your safest choice. You sigh, hoping that line of reasoning will hold true during mealtime. You relax more when the warmth and softness cover you. The best part was that hood covered your head. It was no mask, but it was better than having your entire head exposed. You were just relieved you no longer had to rely on those infirmary blankets to keep your body and head covered. At least there were no cameras installed in your accommodation… to your knowledge.

Since you had no orders given until mealtime, you decided to explore more of the room. Maybe if you are good, then living as a prisoner of the heretics won’t be so terrible. Maybe you will be able to survive Hell after all.

----------

Stay tuned for the next part "Burn Bright Until You Burn Out"

[hobiebrownismygod]

I’ve never done an anonymous thingy before so I hope I’m doing this right 😭

Can you pretty please with sprinkles on top write more stuff about Hobie having a super sweet S/O 🙏🙏

hehe I love writing headcanons about hobie with his s/o ty for requesting &lt;3

Hobie Brown with a GN Sweet Sunshine!S/O

Taglist - Masterlist

☆ Hobie loves loudly, with sloppy kisses and bone-breaking hugs while they love gently, with cheek pecks and cuddles

☆ Watching movies together never ends well because Hobie would want to watch documentaries and historical fiction while his S/O would want to watch movies about animals and coming of age stories (they always end up crying at the end of it while Hobie comforts them)

☆ both of the two love animals but while his s/o coos to the animals and holds them gently, he shows love by affectionately making fun of them. the catch is his s/o can't tell when he's saying it as a joke so their conversations go something like this:

if you've seen that one post you know what I'm talking about

Hobie, holding up a dirty cat in his hands: You smell bloody terrible

S/O: No, don't say that to it, its mean

Hobie, cuddling the cat: Dirty

S/O: No, don't, that's mean!!

Hobie, kissing the cat on top of the head: Absolutely filthy

S/O: NOOOOOOOO

☆ His S/O is really good at taking care of animals and plants though, along with little kids. His friends often joke about how the two would be great parents, because kids seem to love both Hobie and his S/O, no matter what, ie Mayday

☆ they do basically everything together, since S/O loves being around Hobie and Hobie's too afraid to let them out of his sight. He also always feels better when they're around

☆ on a slightly darker note, Hobie never lets his S/O come to any of his protests, especially when he knows that they'll end up getting somewhat violent

☆ its partly because he doesn't want them to get hurt but the main reason is because he knows that they would be too willing to put themselves on the front lines and help people who've gotten hurt in the process.

☆ His sweet S/O would never leave an injured person by themselves and would be trying to make peace with officers while having a gun pointed in between their eyes. he refuses to let that happen.

☆ the worst part is that he knows that if his s/o ever saw him getting violent at a protest or killing a cop, they'd never look at him the same. they were always for nonviolence, peace, and they would absolutely hate the idea of hobie hurting others, even if it was completely necessary.

☆ But Hobie can always count on them to patch him up after a fight, but the problem is they're very much an empath and when they see him so much as flinch while they're trying to clean up the blood, they'll start crying

"It's just a scratch, darling, there's no need to cry."

sobbing hysterically "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I should've been more gentle putting the bandage on-"

"Baby, I'm not even bleeding."

☆ They definitely go to all of Hobie's concerts and sing along to his music. Hobie loves watching them laugh in the crowd and his eyes never leave their face, even when his fans are swarming him

☆ After every concert, they'll come find Hobie in the dressing room and jump into his arms, littering kisses all over his face while he struggles to breathe

☆ His S/O always has so much love to give and Hobie would always be willing to receive it, especially if it comes in the form of kisses and hugs

☆ They'd be the type of couple to always be holding onto each other somehow, ether with Hobie having his arm resting on top of their head or his S/O putting their finger through the belt loop of his jeans

☆ Hobie gets a lot of nightmares, because of all thats happened to him as Spider-man, and often wakes up in the middle of the night.

☆ His S/O holds him and sings to him until he falls back asleep, while kissing the top of his head to help him calm down. Now, he can't fall asleep at all without his S/O holding him

☆ he's either a little spoon or he sleeps lying on top of his s/o while affectionately suffocating them

Taglist: @therealloopylupin2099 @spiderrinn @l0starl @daydreaming-en-pointe @itsparis-07 @vileviale @puff-hugs @s6onder @@d0ubl-tr0ubl3 @lauryn2558

[mt-oe]

its finals season (again..) and huge projects for classes right now. can we get a stressed reader x modern mizu where reader is like actually tweaking out? like I mean pulling our energy shots, shivering hands, 'gotta lock in', hysterically crying on snapchat video and sending it to their groupchat for moral support type of tweaking out and the reader is going BANANAS over all the final papers, and studying for finals and mizu helps comfort reader?? i hope this would be a silly little write but also helpful to anyone going through finals season right now. much love! xoxo <3

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

To start this, I am absolutely sorry for being gone for so long. I had my thesis defense, practicals, laboratory works, deadlines, and my finals all in the span of two weeks AND I fainted twice, got sick twice, and nose bled a LOT.

I was chugging 3 cans of energy drinks a day, eating one meal per day, sleeping minutes less than how long I showered, and smoked quite a lot. Someone even caught me sleeping on the fire exit stairs (istg so embarrassing ;;). Honestly makes me wonder how I'm not six feet under by now.

To those who are going through their finals, please don't follow my lead. Vomiting at 3am from how dizzy you are while some Sepultura song plays in the background is NOT the experience you'd think it was. Try to plan when you'll tackle your work and get some sleep as much as you can, on your free time, on your commute. I swear, answering tests are SOO much easier when your vision isn't spinning or tunneling.

Chose to do this request first to remind you all to take care amidst your finals (or as a reward if your finals are finished, good job dear!).

Hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa <3

warning: not proofread, my corny jokes, she/her for mizu, implied afab reader

Blue orbs watched as you cracked open another can of Red Bull. A small grunt leaving your throat as the fizzy caffeinated drink went down your esophagus. Was this your second? third..no wait..fourth?

Damn.

How are your blood vessels surviving this onslaught of caffeine you've been shoving down your system? She had no clue. But what she did know was that you've had enough. This wasn't healthy at all. Your lips were already as pale as the palms of your hands which were trembling to the point where you couldn't stop writing because that meant you'd feel the quivering of your hands even more.

The two of you had decided to slave off at Mizu's apartment for your finals. It was mostly Mizu dragging you there since your friends have been bombarding her to take care of you since she had the closest to what was considered a free schedule. T'was something about you freaking out and crying over the finals. She didn't have a Snapchat account so she didn't know.

Usually, she wasn't even interested in these stuff, but when Akemi showed her a picture of you with a thumbs up, holding a can of Monster, dark circles under your bloodshot eyes, tear streaks on your face, with the caption 'Boutta pull another Kay Chung tonight', concerned didn't even begin to describe what she felt.

Boutta pull a Kay Chung?

What or who was this Kay Chung anyway?

She knew you were a hard worker, probably one of the most studious people she knew, so she already expected you to be busy studying. What she didn't expect was the mess you were in.

The moment she stepped into your unit, cans of energy drinks, bottles of energy shots, cups of coffee, and random paper strewn randomly littered your apartment. The only source of light was your window and a small dim lamp you had.

Was that cup noodle container growing mold?

Ew.

It was like the Capital Wasteland in here, and she was the lonesome wanderer, awaiting the dangers to come.

And you were a radiated ghoul hunched over your desk with the emptiest gaze she has ever seen. Your head in your hands, as you scrunched your eyebrows together, trying to figure out what the fuck was wrong with your equation.

Now she understood the bombardment of messages from Akemi and the others, and damn was she grateful for the heads up because you looked like you were at death's door and death... Death just thought you looked too pitiful to let in.

The two of you were now sitting on Mizu's carpet, books, papers, and gadgets on the smooth wood of the coffee table. In her mind, she thought a bit of companionship would comfort you like it usually did. But she was wrong.

The shaking grip you had on your pen and the occasional 'what the actual fuck?' or 'the hell?' already told her that you were too locked in to relax even just a bit. You looked like you were losing it.

Her eyes peered over your review sheet before she raised an eyebrow at how scattered your handwriting looked, numbers and symbols italicized to the left and to the right as if they were dancing and your solutions scattered. Add this value here..derive the formula there..problem 3's solution is somehow on the back of the paper even though problem 5 was solved on problem 1's spot. It looked like a shit show.

"What...problem is this for? You did it wrong." Her tongue clicking as a slender finger encircled a formula you derived wrong, making you look at her with a mildly bothered look. Your eyes tiredly scanned your review sheet, looking away to the side to blink the heaviness of your lids away, then looking back at it before letting out a strangled sounding groan, shoulders slumping back onto the sofa as you covered your eyes with your hands before looking at your own solutions again. "I don't fucking know..maybe it's for..umm..for..fuuuuuck," you sighed defeatedly, realizing that you couldn't understand your own handwriting either.

You wanted to strangle yourself so bad right now or like, strangle your professor until they give you a passing grade. Maybe the threat of arson would scare the university admins into passing everyone for the semester???? The prospect of being a sugar baby is starting to sound better than trying to finish this degree.

It wasn't like you were an absolute idiot. You could solve these problems no problemo. However, your vision was already lagging and tunneling. Whenever you tried to read the problem or your own handwriting, it was like your vision was hyper-focusing on one spot and the areas around it were...spinning or it'd focus on everything else EXCEPT the ones you wanted to focus on.

The amount of caffeine you had consumed wasn't even helping anymore. Instead of waking you up, you just felt jittery like a hyper-charged toy. Before you were sleepy and slow, now you were still sleepy but faster.

And when was the last time you even ate anyway? Was that moldy cup noodle your last meal? You didn't even know anymore at this point. You could barely feel anything aside from the fear of your impeding academic doom. Not even hunger was strong enough to stop you.

Mizu's eyebrows furrowed at how miserable you looked before sighing and pulling a sheet of paper out of her own notebook. "Here," she sighed out, sitting beside you and scanning each problem you had printed out before re-writing each question you looked like you struggled with. Her eyes occasionally glanced at you, unseen worry rising with every hitch of your breath and every twitch of your eyebrow as you looked at the questions she rewrote.

"Mizu..I don't want to do those all again," you groaned frustratedly, ruffling your hair own hair aggressively, strands falling to the carpet below. A hand held yours firmly, preventing you from tangling the ends of locks even more. "I'm going to teach you, dumbass. We can't have you failing and dying at the same time," she huffed, grabbing your calculator and placing it in front of both of you. She leaned closer to you, hand on your waist to pull you closer before taking the pencil and pointing to the first problem she rewrote.

"I'm not going to repeat my explanations, so listen well,"

...was what she said.

However, Mizu was a big softie when it came to you. Every time she caught you spacing out or having a hard time in general, she took her time and explained it to you again, even explaining it slower, simpler, or more detailed as needed. She really made sure that you understood the principle of the problems and the process of solving them, handing the pencil and calculator to you to make sure you actually understood her.

After a while, you were slowly starting to understand you earlier mistakes, and with her help, you were able to finally solve the review sheet. Thank god for hot smart women.

A look of amusement crossed her face as she watched you slump back onto the sofa with a loud sigh of relief. Shaking her head with a small lop-sided smile, she took the pen again before grabbing your laptop and searching for similar problems. "Here," she said, turning the device towards you. "Solve these. I'll be back in a bit."

You looked at her in confusion before letting out a tired groan. The exhaustion was starting to let itself be known through the heaviness in your lids. Another problem set was the last thing you wanted to do right now.

Oh wait.

Fuck, you still had to edit your methodologies and results, and you haven't even started on the discussion yet. Oh god...

'Better get started, I guess,' you thought with a defeated sigh. Muttering a string of curses under your breath, you picked up your pencil and calculator and began solving yet another set of hellish questions while the dark-haired woman stood up and walked off somewhere in her apartment. Silence filled the room aside from the aggressive scritching and scratching of lead against paper and the sound of clacking from your calculator.

Every now and then, Mizu would come back with something to comfort you. May it be a cup of water, a bigger pillow, a hair tie, or to charge your phone for you. She didn't really speak though, fully wanting you to focus on your work.

It was like her quiet little way of telling you that she was here and that she cared for you.

Amidst your problem solving, the smell of something being fried hit your nose, making you look up. It was a bit oily, but at the same time, homely and savory. Your stomach growled slightly at the smell, reminding you of that uncomfortable feeling of hunger that you were somehow able to ignore during your study sessions.

Just as you had finished writing your answers, Mizu came out of the kitchen with a bowl of rice and a plate of what seemed to be fried fish. Kinda burnt but maybe that's a charm point...or something. At least she tried.

She set it down on a clear space on the coffee table and gently urged it towards you. "Here," she mumbled, looking at you expectantly. You stared at the food she prepared, snorting a bit at the charred skin, some bits missing which obviously stuck to the pan while she was frying it. "Err..Mizu...?"

"Don't mind how it looks just..just eat, okay?" she groaned, sounding a bit embarrassed, a bit of pink dusting her cheeks. Her eyes looking away as her hand went up to cover half her face. You couldn't help but laugh a bit. Mizu? Embarrassed? God that woke you up, didn't it?

The sound of your laughter made her feel even more embarrassed but at the same time relieved. Your laugh was so fucking cute. She was glad that you were starting to sound a bit more like your usual self. Hell, you were smiling now. A big improvement compared to the face of misery you were making earlier.

Eventually, your laughter subsided upon the realization sinking into you. She really did all this just to take of you. Dragging you to her apartment, tutoring you, fetching things for you, cooking for you...

She really does care. Doesn't she?

Your hands picked up the chopsticks before breaking into the soft flesh of the food in front of you, picking off the bones before taking a bite. It was salty, the char even made it a bit bitter, and for god-knows-why, even a bit spicy?? But it tasted so good to you. Heavenly, dare I say.

As you continued to eat, bite after bite and scoop after scoop, the shakiness in your hands slowly calmed down. You couldn't help but look up at your friend who was now checking your answers, the ghost of satisfaction making itself known through the barely visible smile she had. "Mizu..."

She looked over at you, raising an eyebrow to indicate that she was listening. "Thank you for uh..taking care of me," you said shyly, giving her a small smile. A low chuckle escaped her throat as she shook her head slowly as if in amusement. "At least you're not shaking like a leaf anymore," she joked, followed by you letting out a small 'hmph!', making her chuckle yet again.

Though she wouldn't tell it to you right now, she'd be more than happy to take care of you anytime you wanted or needed it.

The sound of your pen tapping on the paper filled the room again as her eyes narrowed at your answers, checking it carefully. After a while, she handed the paper back to you, looking very much satisfied. "Looks good," she said, eyes watching the proud smile on your face. "How 'bout a reward?...Some rest I suppose?"

Your smile faltered at the sound of rest. "I can't...my manuscript is due in a couple of days and I haven't even finished editing my methodologies and results," you explained, opening the files for each of your chapters. "The data isn't even tabulated in the required format. It looks like shit."

She stood up from her spot and sat next to you, placing a hand on your head to pat it gently as she looked at the screen. Her eyes narrowed again while you scrolled up the file for her before she sighed. "Yeah, it does look like shit," she agreed before suddenly grabbing your laptop and setting in front of her. "Go and take a nap or something. I'll do whatever I can to...whatever this is."

"But Mizu, this isn't even your field. I can't—" She cut you off with a finger to your lips before gesturing towards the sofa behind the both of you. "Nap," she ordered firmly. You sighed before standing up and laying down on the sofa. You knew there was no use arguing. When Mizu makes up her mind, she's deadset on it.

Her eyes scanned your figure for a moment, taking in every curve of your body and the way your face relaxed. Then, she took off her jacket and draped it over you, before giving you a small loving pat. Before you could even open your mouth to protest, she immediately shushed you and turned to your manuscript, scanning over it.

Your eyes observed the way her eyebrows furrowed and the way her eyes darted from word-to-word. The sound of her typing and clicking filling the room, oddly relaxing you.

It didn't take long for you to drift off to sleep. And for the first time since hell week started, you finally relaxed.

No frustration, no stress, just...sleep.

You did nap for hours longer than expected though.

Don't worry.

Your methodologies were now updated, results properly formatted, and ideas in bullet points for your discussion were laid out in a new file. Even your references were fixed.

Damn, you really wanted to smooch Mizu reaaal hard after this.

[chaoticbardlady99]

She’s My Religion- Part 4: Makes You Believe in Something Above (Astarion x F! Reader)

Synopsis- Shadowheart, Isobel, Halsin, and Dame Aylin work to heal you. No one is certain you’ll willingly come back from the land of the Dead. Astarion begs for you to come back to him and he wants to spend forever with you.

CW: mentions of gore, violent themes, mentions of SA, mentions of attempted SA, mentions of grief

*not my pic* reach out if it is yours so I can give you credit!

This is barely edited- my mental health has been ❤️🙈✨horrific ✨🙈❤️

The last thing you remember was hearing Astarion screaming and crying- it broke your heart to hear his painful transformation.

Giving up has been the easiest feeling in the whole world- you didn’t know if you were dreaming or in the Heavens, but being embraced by your mother and father as you let the warm glow of their love sink into your non-existent bones, you didn’t know if you cared.

Your father was still your father and your mother was your mother again. They were both still madly in love with one another, but they miss you terribly.

You asked if you were temporarily here. Your mother smiled and said, “only for now, my Heart.”

You broke down in front of both of them- told them your fears and how scared you are to return to Astarion. You don’t want to be forced into vampirism and you certainly don’t want to be a consort.

Your parents told you that fate is a fickle thing and it’s better to embrace it than run from it- they won’t allow you to give up.

You were so angry- they let you be. You lit fires in the Heavenly grass and you screamed until you couldn’t scream anymore. Both of your parents held you as you sobbed- telling you that you’ll be okay.

After, you decided you weren’t going to squander your last little bit of freedom and time with your parents for Gods knows how long. You will not continue being angry over something you have no control over. You will figure it out- you will be okay.

You laughed, cried, hugged, and talked together for what was probably seconds in the mortal world, but hours in this beautiful space.

Your soul feels broken and healed all at the same time when your consciousness hits you like a wagon and you are still in the Szarr palace. Except you aren’t lying on the ground anymore (you think); the air smells of Astarion and the aroma is intoxicating. At least he still smells the same, but you thought you would be far more blood thirsty for waking up as a Spawn and that Astarion would be a lot less hysterical.

Your body hurts- being only halfway between death and life is a painful balance. All of your muscles are taught, but also loose and heavy at the same time. Your skin is numb, but also still stings with every single mark Cazador had cut into you.

Astarion is holding you up against him while Shadowheart is working to heal you and Gale finishes reading the Revivify Scroll. Astarion’s silent tears are falling into your hair and trailing down your face.

“Don’t leave me here alone,” he whispers pleadingly for only your ears to hear, “I didn’t do it- I didn’t Ascend. You were right- you were right the whole time. I dislike you for it, but it’s true.”

You hear him take a shaky, choked breath- your body still not quite awake enough to show any sign of real change in your condition.

You are in complete shock. He didn’t Ascend? It is all he had been talking about for the last three weeks! It’s what he had wanted so why didn’t he do it.

“I’m so so sorry, my Love, ” he continues to beg quietly, “I want you to come back. I need you to come back to me. I don’t want to be in this world without you.”

He pauses for a second and gently kisses your cheek- exhaling unevenly.

“And then have you beat the shit out of me when I decide to come join you because ‘that absolutely is not what I wanted you to do!’”

His soft impression of you, the broken laugh, and the words themselves make your heart feel like it’s going to shatter. You are fighting to make your breaths more noticeable or move your arm- something to tell Astarion I’m here! I didn’t leave you! You aren’t connected enough to your body right now to use the tadpole so that’s not even an option.

Your body is still so weak- Shadowheart is struggling to find out which poison it is and then you hear the voice of Isobel and the sound of Karlach’s clunky armor in the air as Isobel begins to talk to Shadowheart and Halsin about what they have done so far- what has worked? What hasn’t? How long have you been down? Do you have a reason to refuse to come back?

Everyone responds with a resounding no, but you hear Astarion interject.

“Yes,” Astarion’s voice cracks, “she does have a reason to refuse to come back.

“She didn’t want me to Ascend,” he says solemnly, “and we fought about it and I told her it was over. I was coming back to talk to her about it- try to make her see the reasons I needed to Ascend. To try to explain to her that I was doing it for her too.

“I never would have thought Cazador would hurt her like this. He was always so protective,” he manages to choke out after a long pause, “she’s lost her whole family and now she thinks her life is at risk because of me and my obsession with power. Why would she want to come back?”

“Fangs…”

“No,” he screams, the sound echoing through your body, “don’t try to tell me how much she loves me, how she wouldn’t just leave me! I broke her heart. Tav’s family is dead, gone, no more. It’s not even guaranteed some of us will still be alive at the end of this thing and if I thought my best bet of being free was dying because I thought my EX-boyfriend became a power hungry Demi-God Vampire Hybrid- I WOULD CHOOSE STAYING DEAD TOO!”

At least he gets it, but it’s not his fault though. You had made a conscious decision and you knew it was likely you wouldn’t come back. You had been so certain that you had done the right thing this time- you let him go to be what he wanted to be and to find a consort that better suited what he wanted out of life. You were going to be Tadpole free and happily reunited with the people you care for.

You are hoping that he doesn’t resent you- what if you forced him to make a decision? Did he go into your mind? Was he aware that you had chosen to give up and Gods you hope that isn’t the reason he chose not to Ascend because you could not live with yourself if your selfish decision made him deny himself what he wants.

As you try to connect to your tadpole again, you hear Isobel ask for your arm and then feel her stab you with a needle before the world goes dark.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion clings to you in your shared bed as you sleep peacefully in his arms. Isobel had told everyone she had figured out it was Topor- how? Astarion had no damn clue, but you began to look better immediately after she gave you the injection and you’ve been sleeping since.

Astarion had been worried about you sleeping for so long- Isobel, Shadowheart, Halsin and Gale had to come together to convince him that you are entirely okay, but your body had just been through significant trauma- emotionally, mentally, and physically.

Dalyria told him that Cazador had attempted to force himself on you, but you fought him so hard and for so long (even going as far as escaping for a brief moment) that Cazador gave up- resigning to waiting until you were a compliant spawn. So he gave you the Topor to kick start your agonizingly slow and painful death. Isobel said you maybe only had about an hour and a half left when she had arrived- praising Karlach for getting to her so quickly.

Astarion had actually hugged the tiefling (and for a very long time too) after Dame Aylin took you away to help Isobel clean up and stitch your deeper wounds before attempting to heal them. Karlach had been thrilled, but she also told Astarion that she is really proud of him for not ascending and for releasing the spawn into the Underdark. Oh and no hard feelings for the outburst.

Actually- that had been everyone’s words to him today. No one wanted him to Ascend and maybe he would have been miffed prior to today, but Astarion has finally discovered what all those writers have been saying- love and companionship are the most powerful forces across the planes. Astarion could never have killed Cazador or saved you if he hadn’t met any of his companions.

Everyone wanted to know what changed and he would just shrug- said it didn’t feel right. The actual reason is far more private.

Astarion didn’t change his mind because you had ultimately given up- he knew Ascending meant he could bring you back as his Spawn. The hungry, lustful power offered by Mephistopheles had been entirely too tempting and he is grateful he had disrespected your mental privacy in that moment.

Astarion has been told by Cazador for two hundred years how genuinely unlikeable and weak he is. The lure of the ritual had tried to push him to show Cazador ‘just how weak he truly is’- it was practically begging him to complete it.

Astarion could not be more grateful that Shadowheart announced your possible impending death. He wouldn’t have taken the time to cross your boundaries and explore your mind- just resorting to turning you into something you didn’t want to be because that bloodthirsty Ascension would allow him to have power and you wouldn’t be able to leave him. You would have been unhappy at first, but he would keep you safe- that had been the Magic’s justification.

The love you feel towards him is even more all consuming than any evil power would ever be. Your thoughts- even in your grief- were full of warmth, love, and happiness for him despite how gut wrenching it was to hear your mental distress at the idea of him Ascending.

Astarion realized that he would not be able to feel that with you again if he ascended. He would never truly know what it feels like to be loved ever again- he’d be too busy wanting more power and possessing your entire being like Cazador had wanted to do.

If Cazador could do this much damage to you- what would he be capable of? Astarion would have you physically, but eventually, you would turn into a ghost of yourself- abused and empty. Just like Sebastian and the other unfortunate individuals who had been unlucky enough to cross his path.

Or you’ll be like him and eventually find a way to kill him so you can be free. Either way he ends up losing you.

Astarion thought that he would feel relief and happiness when he finally killed Cazador, but he actually felt heartbroken when the man dropped to the floor. It pisses him off even now, but Halsin had said something to him afterwards that had somehow been beneficial.

“It’s okay to grieve your chains after you have spent so long learning to love them- to survive them.”

So he sits here and grieves the last shitty 200 years while holding your sleeping form because you make him feel steady and you keep him on the ground. The hint of your perfume and the clean linens is soothing. You are softly snoring and the sound fills his heart with glee.

You are here and you are alive. He doesn’t have to grieve you or himself and that’s all that matters to him at the end of the day.

There is a quiet knock on the door as Isobel, Dame Aylin, and Shadowheart walk in. They tell him they are going to do a group healing prayer over you that should help you feel better and stronger much faster than if they continue to heal you individually.

It was clear it was a ceremony that was “need to know” and Astarion was promptly kicked out of the room. Realistically the whole thing took about 10 minutes, but Astarion felt like he had to wait for hours for them to be done.

When they are finally done- he races back into the room and makes sure not a single hair is out of place. Astarion worries that he’ll be a nervous wreck if you are out of his sight for a while and he hopes you understand.

Astarion tidies up your stuff in the corner of your shared room (the couples were finally told they need to get their own lodgings) when he hears you gasp for air before you frantically look around the room as quickly as your exhausted body can from where you are- your limbs and neck figuratively glued to the bed.

You haven’t seen Astarion just yet, but he wants to assume he might be the one you are looking for and he’s right. Your eyes land on him and your lip is trembling as you look at him- tears drenching your cheeks instantaneously.

Astarion drops your armor, hastily gets into the bed, and holds you while leaving gentle kisses on your hairline. You hold onto him like you are afraid you may never see him again. Your hands are weakly twisted into his shirt and he can just barely hear you begging him not to leave you between heavy sobs.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, “unfortunately for you- I’m never allowing you to leave my sight again, Darling.”

Your laughter comes out as a painful wheeze and Astarion runs circles into your back as you ride out the pain. You snuggle into Astarion’s chest and a sigh of relief escapes your lips. Astarion thinks you may go back to sleep, but then you tense up ever so slightly and he almost misses what you say to him next.

“You didn’t give up on what you wanted for me- did you?” Your voice is small and troubled, “I don’t want to be the thing that kept you from having what you wanted.”

“Yes and no, but not in a bad way,” Astarion says, not wanting you to worry any longer, “I realized that Ascending meant losing myself and you- even if I did bring you back to life as a Spawn, you would have been miserable and unhappy.

“I also realized that my love for you and your love for me is far more valuable to me than all the power in the world. If he could do all of those horrible things to you- what would I be capable of? It just clicked. I realized to Ascend would be to destroy what we have and I wouldn’t be keeping you or me safe- I’d be keeping us captive by selling my soul to Mephistopheles.”

You are so quiet that Astarion thinks you fell asleep, but then he feels your tears begin to stain the fabric of his sleeve.

“I wa- I-,” you are struggling through your tears, “I was so sure I was losing you forever or I was going to be stuck with him forever. I never thought this would be the end result.”

“I, for one, am much happier with this result.”

“Me too,” you smile brightly at him, your voice sounding less retired and rough.

Astarion just takes in your face looking at him, tracing your features with his hands. You are only in your undergarments and lots of medical wrappings due to the amount wounds Cazador had inflicted upon your body.

They must have just cleaned and changed all the wrappings though because the scars that were more superficial are no longer wrapped- just bright red ish purple scars.

The deeper ones on your sides are the ones that had worried Isobel. She had to heal, stitch, heal, and then stitch again before the wound itself finally stayed close. Halsin had been able to cast something to prevent you from waking up during the process and Shadowheart had poured something into your mouth so you wouldn’t feel the pain.

Dame Aylin had shook her head and looked at him.

“After a century or five, it stops weighing on your soul so much- the torture and the pain,” she slowly looks at you, her eyes sad and empathetic, “but that first time? You will never forget that.”

Astarion is probably the only one who knows your Step-dad is a horrible pig, but Astarion had already taken care of that. He also can’t deny that Cazador’s torture is a thousand times worse than anything Bridil could do.

You begin to trace Astarion’s features with your fingers and it jolts him out of his thoughts. Astarion leans in and begins to kiss your lips slowly- taking his time to breathe you in.

There is a question on Astarion’s tongue, but he isn’t sure if he should ask just yet. He wants you to know that he is asking out of readiness and not from a “I thought I almost lost you forever”. Not that he doesn’t want to- he just wants to make sure it’s perfect and not rushed. Astarion has been thinking about this question for a long while now- you are his partner, his best friend, his family.

Astarion has waited for what feels like a lifetime to find someone like you and he wants to spend a whole eternity more with you. He just hopes you’ll say “I do” because Tav Ancunín has a very lovely ring to it.

[fuxuannie]

↳ pairing : miles morales x (filo) reader

↳ synopsis : general headcanons / random rants of dating him

↳ authors note : this is me self projecting yes yes u can call me out on it ♡♡ i lovelovelove atsv!! i mightmight write gwen, hobie or pavitr next,, probably another miles one though <3

↳ warnings : some r angsty w/ mentions of blood & etc! beware bewareee 👹

-> i think that a relationship with MILES is more chaotic than the spiderman aspect of himself.

For starters, Miles loves you SO bad that it's not embarassing but he clings onto you a lot, (you enjoy it) however you also want to study for your upcoming quiz without your boyfriend leaning against you, pulling you in for a hug and mayble blowing against your ear to mess with you. He's a bit of a loser whos addicted to your attention and does everything to grab it.

-> but if you have to deal with mr clingy every single day, miles has to suffer with your silly filipino cheesyness.

"Hello bebeloves-" You'll say with a snort, already giggling at the groan Miles lets out as he pushes you off him with ease.

"Huuuyy, di mo ba ako mahal?" ("Huuuyy, do you not love me?")

A pout is evident on your expression, and Miles just looks at you with a puzzled look. "???? I do NOT know what you are saying, please translate."

"I love youu-"

"I know that's not what you said >:("

-> texting and swinging is more than a common occurence.

"Local Hero 'Spiderman' was seen swinging through the streets of Brooklyn, seemingly texting on his phone before directly hitting a pole while distracted."

So now you're here, arms crossed and your boyfriend with an icepack on his forehead and an awkward 'I'm not an idiot' smile on his face.

"Babe, there's a whole lot of Spiderpeople out there-"

"How many of them are stupid enough to text while doing dangerous swings through the city?"

"You'd be surprised!" You shoot him an unamused glare, he sighs as he's well aware you're just worried for him. He knows that seeing him hurt all the time more than enough stress one person should handle, but he can't control the damage he takes whether outside or inside of a fight.

Miles stands up and pulls you in for a hug, the way you continue to still cross your arms makes him a little sad but he rests his head on top of yours and quietly tries to pick the right words to say. "I'm sorry, I'll try to take better care of myself."

That's all you wanted to hear, and you hide your smile as you return the the hug.

-> your safety was placed above all else, no matter what.

Miles knows he can take a hit, he can take several depending on the enemy, but he will take every single punch that he cannot take just so you wouldn't have to.

"You're- hngh... okay. You're okay, look at me, tell me you're okay." He whispers to you while literally bleeding from his torso and you're crying while holding him, going hysterical because he's ignoring his spidey senses that's supposed to protect him to protect you.

There are times where you're by his side in the recovery room, holding his hand as you sob and beg for him to start putting himself first. Just to be even a little selfish and think of himself for once before other people, before you. But you know you couldn't ask that from him, or you could and he wouldn't listen. It was natural in his heart to protect those who needed it, because he knew there was no one else who could do it, not to his care and extent.

It sucks that the very same traits that made you fall inlove with him are the ones that make you cry at your worst.

-> he was terrified the day he thought of revealing his spiderman identity to you.

"Will they think I've gone insane ???" Was his main thought, mostly on the fact who would think that someone like HIM would be the Spiderman swinging outside your window everyday, 'coincidentally' meeting you whenever you needed to clear your head on the rooftop of your apartment, dropping by those anonymous gifts at your door signed with a Spider logo.. who would've guessed?

I think that when he tells you he's Spiderman, he also confesses to you that he likes you. It's a two in one package deal! He could get rejected, but at least you now can say you rejected Spiderman at some point in your life. But of course, you knew Miles Morales before you knew Spiderman, and goodness did you love the boy under the suit more than the persona he wore with it on.

You've had to restrict his daytime Spidey visits though, if enough people take note that Spidermans been visiting YOUR room when you and Miles start dating.. it could spark some rumours. (it doesn't stop him, he does it anhway)

-> "don't worry, i'm not jealous." you always knew Miles was a bad liar.

Miles Morales, Spiderman, Straight A student (minus spanish but we don't talk about that) and the most handsome boy in Brooklyn.. jealous of the way you admire Gwen Stacy.

Don't get him wrong, he loves that his best friend and his partner get along, but you and her are WAY too close sometimes. Do you really have to be laughing that way with her? like come on, he thought that laugh of yours was reserved for him alone. :(

Obviously that's just Miles wanting your attention every 3 minutes, but also he knows he can't control who you're friends with anyway and he knows dang well he's the only person who gets to hold you at night in his arms.

He doesn't wanna be controlling and he trusts you so he lets you do what you want, if some boundaries are crossed though he'll talk about it with you. :)

But you won't deny how you are so so inlove with the jealous glare he gives to some people that you're talking to, you never intentionally make him jealous but the way his hand immediately grabs yours and the passive agressive smile has you giggling n everything.

-> DATES!!! dates are sososo fun with him!

"Trust me, I found this new place and a friend told me it's really good!" And you either come out with a full stomach and happy tastebuds or being on the verge of throwing up. Dates are always something new, Graffiti dates, picnic dates, study dates and such.

All of them are always full of joyful memories because Miles does everything in his power to make sure you laugh until your sides HURT. He knows how much memories can mean to people, it's all he has left of his uncle and so he wants to make sure that if something goes wrong, you'll have enough memories of you and him to last a lifetime. :')

His favorite kind are the ones where you sleep over, his parents are always bugging him on when you're going to visit and he's happy to see the widest smile on his mothers face when she sees you.

Of course he's happy for you to spend time with his family, but when it's finally just you and him in the comfort of his bed he feels calm and relaxed. There's so much stress in his life, not only as Spiderman but the upcoming rise as a teenager and only you bring a sense of relaxation for even just a few hours.

-> lowkey flirting in tagalog b4 u guys got together!!! 🤞

Miles used to hear you say random phrases in your foreign language while you looked at him, one that seemed to stick with him for a while was; "Ampogi mo talagaaaaa.." Which he wanted to ask you about, but figured it was just a silly joke or insult.

Surprise surprise, while he's learning how to speak your language, you can imagine his shock when he figures out just exactly what pogi meant.

"YOU WERE HITTING ON ME THIS ENTIRE TIME????"

-> love languageeez !!!!

Miles practically has all of the love languages, especially giving them!!

Words of Affirmation? He promised to himself to let you sleep without a heavy heart, whispering into your ear about how you're enough for him and how he believes you're genuinely the perfect person for him.

Quality Time? Boy is glued to you TWENTY FOUR SEVEN, not a day you don't spend atleast 10 hours with him because that is what he DEMANDS!! That's a joke, but he really does try everything he can to be by your side.

Acts of Service? His mama did NOT raise a boy who doesn't know how to care for someone, he'll take care of all your worries and chores whenever he comes over. Whatever you ask, it will be granted as soon as possible. ♡

Gift Giving? He prefers handmade gifts over anything, he'll spend nights during patrols that have nothing going on to make tiny presents to give you in the morning. He loves to make you mini scrapbooks with doodles of you and him together.

Physical Touch? His favorite, words cannot EXPLAIN how much he loves to hold you. PDA isn't a problem for him, whether or not you like it will depend if he does PDA w you or not. He doesn't really mind if you aren't into it, Miles himself actually prefers to be affectionate behind closed doors but he's happy to do the smaller things like hand holding or hugs.

[agendabymooner]

the vibing allan and the reluctant ken ! mick s. x ofc (filipino!ofc)

summary: mick schumacher just wants a break from arthur leclerc.

OR the young monegasque has a bad habit of third wheeling. thankfully, mick learned how to be patient as he took care of sebastian vettel's kids with his girlfriend. will he be able to apply these skills as the couple and their third wheel travel to another country?

content warning: use of explicit language, platonic!third wheel!arthur leclerc x ofc, mentions of sebastian vettel x ofc (bel vettel), bf!mick x bbf!arthur banter, chaos and crack fic, arthur drives for ferrari, baby kimi vettel is of age for karting ❤️

note: i've had this in my mind since this morning. enjoy xx

masterlist

i. this ken's job is karting coach

ii. the vettel child treatment™ (philippine edition)

arthur_leclerc posted a story !!!

tagged barblanco

liked by arthur_leclerc, charles_leclerc, estebanocon

arthur_leclerc no credits for the photo?? i didn't take you as a thief

user1 this man riles up mick for no reason and i love him so much for it

mickschumacher thank you to our photographer i guess 🙄

arthur_leclerc you're welcome!!! anything for my best friend (not you)

user2 maman et papa 🙌

user3 i'm no better than a man 😩🥰

landonorris did you at least bring your sunscreen this time? liked by mickschumacher

charles_leclerc i ship ❤️‍🔥 liked by mickschumacher

user4 charles the barmacher stan. been real since day one 🤝

barblanco 🥰😽 liked by mickschumacher

mickschumacher 🤭😊

user5 someone call the simp police 🤧

user6 omg hes so back welcome him 😭

tagged mickschumacher

liked by arthur_leclerc, pierregasly, landonorris

arthur_leclerc everybody say "thank you arthur~" 🙄🙄 liked by barblanco

barblanco thank you artieeeeee~~

user1 thank you arthurrrrr

charles_leclerc thanks artie 🙏

user2 look at our biggest stan!!!

arthur_leclerc this trip is a blast!! danke barbie!!! liked by barblanco

barblanco i never break any promises i make, art! 🤩

user3 ok but cute???

user4 i love 😍

belongvettel ughhh i love!!! ❤️ liked by barblanco

barblanco i can't wait to bring some souvenirs back bel!!! ❤️

mickschumacher best trip ever (excluding arthur) 🥰 liked by barblanco

barblanco 🤣🤣🤣

arthur_leclerc ok mICK 🙄🙄

tagged barblanco

liked by mickschumacher, charles_leclerc, olliebearman

user1 ARTHUR NOT TAGGING MICK 😭😭😭

user2 i love my petty king 🤭

charles_leclerc i want souvenirs, arthur!! liked by arthur_leclerc

arthur_leclerc beg.

user3 ARTHUR PLS-

lorenzotl i want mine too 🤨 liked by arthur_leclerc

arthur_leclerc bet.

charles_leclerc 😲😲

user4 GUYS WHERE CAN I FIND ARTHUR IN MANILA 😭

user5 you can't 🤧 i think they're somewhere around palawan rn because they've been touring everyday

mickschumacher i see how it is 🤔 liked by arthur_leclerc

arthur_leclerc you called me a donkey 🙄

charles_leclerc was he incorrect?

arthur_leclerc shal whose side are you on? 🥲

user6 charles is being unnecessarily funny and shady 🤭😭

barblanco glad you're liking it!!! liked by arthur_leclerc

arthur_leclerc ofc!!! i don't think about the killjoy in the room most of the time and i pretend that he's a ghost so that's why!!

mickschumacher you are so not invited to the next trip, leclerc 😠

arthur_leclerc now mick-

user7 bf vs bbf in the comments??? god. take it in a parking lot guys 🤩🙄

tagged barblanco, arthur_leclerc

liked charles_leclerc, landonorris, lance_stroll

landonorris mick just entered his reputation era 🤩

user1 IS THAT ARTHUR SLIPPING 😭

user2 naw mick is out for blood guys 🤣🤣

user3 arthur is hysterically crying at this post rn 🤣

charles_leclerc art kinda deserved that 😭

arthur_leclerc hella mean of you mick 😠

mickschumacher sorry i don't talk to people who slipped and ate shit on camera 😌

user4 NOW MICK-

barblanco you two are my walking migraines 🤕 liked by mickschumacher

mickschumacher no i'm not, liebe 😻

barblanco do i have to tell you two to kiss and make up?

arthur_leclerc i'd rather jump to hell than do that 🤢

mickschumacher arthur_leclerc i already was in hell when you came along in the trip 😒

arthur_leclerc stay mad mickie 😝

barblanco god love testosterones 🙄

iii. ken says no more allan