#i spent a LONG time thinking about this and this makes most sense to me

[ham1lton]

HE SAYS TO BE COOL (I DON’T KNOW HOW YET)

pairings: jenson button x maneater!reader.

warnings: large age gap - around twenty years. a lot of judgement and criticism as there is scrutiny of your relationship.

summary: after a party at a mutual friend’s, you and jenson are photographed leaving together. the large age gap causes concern especially after your admission that you had a crush on him as a young driver.

author’s note: so this is NOT a part of the main maneater storyline. this is just a what if scenario. just something indulgent for the maneaters out there who go for dilfs! last time i checked the friendship group poll, it was practically 50/50 so until that’s decided, there is a big group of all them. also as per usual, there is a poll at the end so please vote <3

— a part of the maneater series ꕤ

liked by messybitch1, landonorris and 1,728,838 others.

ham1ltonshaderoom: after the release of lewis hamilton’s newest almave drink, formula one driver y/n l/n, better known as maneater, was seen outside of the event looking quite cozy with former formula one driver and forty-four year old jenson button. how are we feeling about this new power couple, ham1ltons?

user1: poor lewis. his drink release has been completely overshadowed by this news 😭

user3: age gap couples never last long lol. good luck but he’ll move on to the next twenty something as soon as she shows one sign of aging.

user34: SHUT UP HES SO FINE 😭 i do the same as you y/n girl.

-> user51: LIKE 😭😭😭 bffr. most of the ppl here would fold for their older celeb crush.

user7: idk who’s benefiting more from this relationship? but it’s definitely not love.

user9: Y/N!!!! I’LL SAVE YOU!!!

user2: not jenson going through his mid-life crisis post-divorce. girl u can do better.

user8: maneater… pls say this is a publicity stunt.

-> user73: no cause this genuinely might be her ticking off her childhood crush list. which is real but idk if it’s good for her?

user6: is she fucking all the aging drivers? or is jenson the only one stupid enough to say yes?

user25: i support it. i met my husband when i was 21 and he was 37 and we have been together almost twenty years this may. not all age gap relationships are inherently bad.

-> user4: you’re a victim 😕

user12: y’all are gross. any of us would jump at a chance to date our celeb crush. jenson is hot and y/n is a consenting adult. she’s not a child anymore. she didn’t even know him as a child. bffr.

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liked by bestie2, georgerussell63 and 3,828,782 others.

yourusername: what do you do when you haven’t seen your besties for ages? do a photoshoot in the middle of the street. how did you spend your weekend?

bestie1: we look so good!!! it was soo good to catch up babe. we missed u!!!

-> bestie2: we’ve all been so busy it’s insane how we’ve not been able to see each other more. i was going insane without my girls!!!

user1: is she not even gonna address it?!

-> user6: big ass elephant in the room.

user4: we knew how you spent your weekend ms l/n.

landonorris: am i not your bestie? why wasn’t i included?

-> georgerussell63: or me?!

-> alex_albon: or me? 🤨

-> logansargeant: or me?? 😕

-> oscarpiastri: i get why i wasn’t included tbf.

user10: u think posting pretty girls will make us forget ur weekend escapades? … maybe. keep posting.

user2: can you guys not make everything about a man? who cares if she’s dating jenson? what does that have to do with her ability to do her job or advocate for causes?! i feel sorry for her because you guys clearly dislike her for stupid reasons and are twisting this into a way to jump her ‘ethically’ which doesn’t even make sense. the only problematic thing she’s done is date a man older than her. grow up, my god.

*liked by landonorris, bestie1, bestie2, georgerussell63, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, logansargeant and 45,728 others. *

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liked by charles_leclerc, bestie1 and 1,092,728 others.

yourusername: italy, i love you ♥︎

user3: get you a man that flies u out whenever ur sad.

-> user7: why are we not assuming she flew HIM out?

-> bestie2: he definitely flew her out. lmao.

user89: feels like a disaster waiting to happen lol.

-> logansargeant: not every relationship is like your parents. get therapy instead of projecting onto strangers.

user6: still a whore. i can’t stand this bitch.

-> oscarpiastri: stay mad! she’s young, successful and has many people who love and support her while you’re cursed to just scroll through her posts and seethe in your head. this one sided beef is crazy 🤣🤣!

user9: they’re cute!! idk how i’m the only one who thinks this.

user67: she’s still ugly.

-> alex_albon: looked at your pictures mate and cheers, my nan just vomited.

user12: when he leaves her >>>>

-> georgerussell63: 6.220.183.12

-> user3: NOT THE IP ADDRESS HELP?2&/&

user8: jenson. call me when you need a real woman.

-> bestie1: where is the real woman you speak of? she’s definitely NOT you.

user21: honestly? i just can’t get on board with this ship.

-> landonorris: you can’t even afford a ticket 🤣 delete this.

user10: i’m not saying shit cause why the y/n defense squad dragging people in the comments 😭

liked by oscar.priv, alex.priv and 21 others.

maneater.priv: NEED HIM CARNALLY <3

bestie1priv: thank god he doesn’t know about ur priv account. i think he’d combust.

-> maneater.priv: nah he giggles. he thinks its funny.

oscar.priv: everyone on a campaign to save you from jenson when they should be saving jenson from YOU.

bestie2priv: LOVE U BOTH <333 cutest couple!

lando.priv: dare you to post this on ur main 😏🤣😁😝

-> george.priv: 43.0.109.12

-> lando.priv: MAN COME ON 😭

don’t want to miss out on my next post? join my taglist! if you enjoyed this, check out my masterlist or buy me a coffee! no pressure ! <3

[chrollohearttags]

nsfw alphabet • bruno bucciarati: breath play

📝: black fem!reader (she’s a former escort), fingering, squirt play, side fucking

word count: 1.3K

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you’d encountered many men in your line of work. After all, the sole objective of your profession was to make them happy…show them a good time and do anything their hearts desired. Of course, sometimes those requests got out of hand. You didn’t exactly feel comfortable but such was life..it was the hand you were dealt and if you wanted to survive in this brutal city, then it behooved you to do it without incident. You never wanted to cause trouble or get in the bad graces of someone powerful enough to make you disappear without a trace. After all, you didn’t exactly favor anyone here physicality wise, so you kept your head down and made your money. Nothing more, nothing less…however, after all this time and the plethora of patrons you’d entertained…

“Ahh! Haaa…please, Mr. Bucciarati…faster.”

“Oh hush now, mi amor..you’re going to come too quickly, you know that. You never were good at holding back..”

you could say beyond the shadow of a doubt, that you’d never met a man quite like Bruno Bucciarati! Kind, intelligent, extremely handsome, charming..just a few of his many admirable qualities. He was far more mature than most men his age and carried a rather dominant demeanor. Not in a controlling sense but instead..a man who knew how to lead and not follow. He’d never allow you to go astray..that was a sentiment he carried in the bedroom as well. He made love to you like a man obsessed. Granted, you had retired from your previous profession and spent your days living quietly off of that income. Due to a majority of your clientele being mafioso as well, you didn’t have to worry about a thing financially..they paid you amicably. It was the least bit of solace for the blatant disrespect you’d receive from time to time. However, Bruno atoned for all of that. He made you feel comforted and safe. He didn’t view you as ‘damaged goods’ or someone who was desperate for attention. There was no judgment at all. He saw the beautiful lady that lived only a floor above him..the one who was always humming and singing in the most mellifluous voice as she tended to her flowers, the one who’d bake the most delicious breads and cooked foods from her home country that made his mouth water..he was awestruck, infatuated and even dared to say…he was in love. Perhaps it was the fact that you were so similar. Two people who were so young, yet had lived three lives over. Hence why, you’d trust him wholeheartedly.

“But it feels so good. I don’t think I can hold it..” “I know it does, my dear. But you’re just going to have to be patient. You trust me, do you not?” “Of course I do, Bruno…” “..then lean back against my chest and just let me handle it. Deep breaths, okay? I need to be sure that you can handle this.”

hence why you were lying nude in his arms, sprawled out on his bed with your legs parted wide. His index and middle fingers plunged knuckle deep inside of your tight hole..that pretty pussy squelching with each plunge and refusing to loosen the grip on those digits. The sounds were enough to drive him insane, but the way you trickled down his hand, he was in absolute awe. So wet and creamy that he feared he’d last no amount of time inside of you. After all, the first time wasn’t the ideal performance he’d hoped for. Orgasming with only a few strokes because you felt that good. But you’d never felt pleasure the way you had with him. He absolutely worshiped your body and made it known each time.

Your naked bodies intertwined underneath pale moonlight and flickering candles; the contrasts of your skin making for beautiful imagery. The scene following that of the two of you immersed in a warm bath together. But it wouldn’t stay so innocent and intimate for long. Because now? He was opting for something a little less romantic and downright salacious. “Here..open your mouth. Inhale..” doing exactly as he instructed, you’d gasp and take a sharp breath. Making sure to get a healthy breath of air before he moved on. “Good girl, now hold it just like that.” In a moment’s notice, Bruno’s movements sped up between your thighs, thrusting those digits in and out. Meanwhile, his free hand had made place across your mouth and nose, asphyxiating the two as he worked you over. Plunging that tight cunt and making it squeeze around those knuckles. You wanted to scream out in pleasure, let him know how amazing it felt but alas, you couldn’t breathe. Some would probably wonder why you’d even find pleasure in something so terrifying and dangerous. He’d tested you earlier with a hand around the throat or by pinching your nose and the bodily response let him know that you were ready for such things. But you craved the rush…maybe all of those years of playing with your life, leaving it in the hands of literal criminals evoked something inside of you. You loved the adrenaline that came with this sensation. Practically wishing for air as he forced you to an orgasm. Paying at his forearm, (y/n)‘s eyes dilated as you began to feel faint. Your consciousness was right on the brink of slipping and you’d squirm around until finally…

“Come..come for me..”

he uttered those sought after words and you’d fulfill his request; allowing juices to flood those crisp white sheets. Squirting as high as his forearm. You’d been teetering on the edge all night, especially after sucking him off and it all came barreling out in an explosive climax. “Oh my gosh, yes!” At the same time, he’d release your mouth and nose, capturing you in a kiss immediately after. Before you even had time to react, he’d shift you over onto your side. But not before giving your ass a much needed smack.. “Shit..I’ve got to have you right now, I’m so sorry..” growling into your ear like that of a primitive creature. Alas, there was nothing to apologize for..you craved him just as badly. You didn’t care if the walls were paper thin and your neighbors could hear. You wanted everyone to know how excellent of a lover Bruno Bucciarati was. Curling his frame over you, he’d raise your leg up and immediately sink his cock inside of that aching warmth. “Fuck! Please fuck me..” begging him in that voice that always got you your way. He didn’t hesitate either, feeding you deep and sharp strokes whilst a hand cupped your throat. This time, a little firmer than before. Your tongue wagged around outside of your plump lips, drool trickling and falling down your chin with that deviant smile on your face. “Goddamn..the way you squeeze me when I choke you. It’s so good, bella.” He was like a man starved, abandoning your well being for both of you guys’ sexual pleasure. He wasn’t stopping for anything. He’d continue to choke you, alternating his grip as he did his pace. (Y/N) glanced back and encouraged him with filthy words. Telling him how much you loved the pain and that he could pound you harder. “Scopamiiii, oh my gosh…you’re so wet. I just want to stay buried inside of you all night..” grunting those sweet nothings in your ear. He was in awe of how amazing you felt. He knew there wasn’t a single place on earth he’d rather be. The bed creaked and slammed against the wall to match your rambunctious love making. Cries and wails of pleasure, gasps of sharp breaths when he allowed you to do so…allowing him to take full control and dominion over you. Something you’d never thought you’d be okay with a man doing.

“That’s it, amore mio..submit to me, let me take care of you from here on out. I’ll make you feel better than anyone else. Trust me..all you have to do is trust me.”

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@greenieweeniesworld @spaceforher @wintrrxxo @rnvsxo

[lukall705]

Soukoku with a very reluctant reader despite being with them throughout practically everything (15 arc to present) and being in a relationship (dating/married whatever) with them they still aren’t comfortable and exclude themselves on purpose, dodging their kisses, slipping out their arms in hugs, and avoiding them in general because they feel as if the two are quite literally meant for each other and they’re just a nuisance (it’s soukoku they are literally made for each other) so they don’t think much of it until the two of them confront them, y’know?

𝓢𝓸𝓾𝓴𝓸𝓴𝓾 𝔁 𝓖𝓷! 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

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I've been really wanting to write this for a while now but i haven't had the motivation to do so 😓

I decided to make it so that like chuuya and dazai had started to talk about wanting kids with the reader and then reader also wanting them but becoming much more distant since they think they dont deserve to start a family if that makes sense??

I'm sorry if this wasn't like what you wanted this is just what i came up with :(

TW: Idk really know, Talk about pregnancy? Please do tell me if there is something that could need a TW

Also reader is AFAB but uses GN pronouns.

English isn't my first language!!!

Words: 1,6k

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You love both your hubands, Chuuya and Dazai, very much, but you always felt like you were in the way of their love, like you were a bother to them or that you didn't deserve them. In your mind they were meant for each other, which they are, but you felt like you were just there, like you aren't meant to be with them.

For as long as you can remember, you've been the most distant one in the relationship, the one that gives the least kisses, hugs ect ect. Both Chuuya and Dazai just thought you weren't into physical touch so they didn't ask much about it, but they still gave, or at least tried to give you lots of kisses and love.

Most of the time when one of them tried to kiss you, you slip away to avoid the kiss. Only sometimes did you actually let them kiss you, and they cherish those moments with you since they're so rare.

You always try to convince them that you dont need to join them on dates and that they arent your thing, even when all you wanna do is go on cute dates with them. Even with your excuses, they still get you on dates most of the time, but even then you're still very distant.

You even sleep in a different room, and saying "I'm more used to sleeping alone" or "i sleep better when i'm alone" as an excuse when they ask. Still, your heart hurt when you thought about how they cuddled in bed in the room right next to you, you knew you could just walk in and join them, but you felt like you weren't worthy of that.

Over all, you felt really insecure in the marrige, you really had made yourself believe that they didn't love you at all.

.....

You've been very insecure about the relationship for years, even when you guys were just teens, it all started when they asked you to be they're partner when they were both 17, since then you've been like this. But now, for some reason, you've been worse then ever.

Ever since you overheard them talking about wanting children you've been trying to keep away from them compleatlly, for what reason? You honestly dont know. you don't know why you are like this, you want children with them, so why are you becoming more distant then ever?

You've spent nights crying because of this, one of the most reacent ones were, chuuya hugging you from behind and caressing your belly while you made some food for yourself. You don't even know what made you want to cry, the gesture just made you feel something inside. After that you had excused yourself and rushed into to the bathroom, turned on the shower and cried.

Because of your change in behaviour, and becoming more and more cold to the both of them, they fianlly started to think that maybe, just maybe there was something wrong with they're precious sweetheart.

One night when you had gone into your room they both could hear faint sobbing, and they had gotten worried. That night they stayed up until late talking about times where they had both been oblivious to your actions and how they should bring it up to you. They were both very guilty, even if they didn't know what was bothering you.

...

...

You were sitting on your bed looking at the snow falling outside through your window while drawing something, everything felt so peacefull at that moment, like nothing else but you and your little space existed.

Everything felt fine until the thought of a child came back itn your mind. what would it be like to have a child with them? would that make you feel loved? would it make you feel like a part of they're relationship?

You thought about the time you overheard them talk about having a child through surrogacy. "Maybe we could try surrogacy? It didn't look like [Name] enjoyed it when we had sex, and i'm not sure they would wanna carry a baby" you had heard Dazai say to Chuuya.

Surrogacy wasn't a bad thing to you, but you were scared that they would ask you, since you knew you couldn't bring yourself to say no. It made you scared that another person was gonna carry your child. You were scared they would find them prettier, more beautiful then you and leave to be with them.

You felt tears form in your eyes at just the thought of something like that happening. Your tears fall onto the half done drawing thats in your lap, making small damp spots on it. You try to hold back your tears as best as you can but they just keep coming, its like all the emotions you've been bottoling up for the past few years are fianlly beinfg released.

As you sit on your bed sobbing, you fail to notice both Chuuya and Dazai standing outside your room listening, both of them looking worried. They both give each other a look and decide to walk in and see if you are alright and if they can figure out why you've been acting so distant.

A sudden small knock on the door of your room snaps you out of it and you quickly start to wipe your tears in a hurry, "W-what..?" You say, trying to not making it sound like you've been crying, since you dont want them to wotty about you. "Darling, we heard you crying.." Chuuya opens the door and gets closer to you. "Please tell us whats wrong.. we care about you.." He takes your hand and strokes it gently with his thumb.

This small act of love makes you burst back into tears as Dazai and Chuuya take you into they're arms and start to rub your back as your sobs become louder. At this moment you feel trully loved by them, you feel safe and protected in they're arms, as if there is nothing that can hurt you at this moment.

"[Name], darling whats wrong? did we do something to upset you? ..why have you been so distant?" Dazai ask you while moving some of your hair out of your face. You can see the worry in both they're faces, and you start to feel guilty for maiking them worried. "..its nothing.. i swear.." You try ti make up excuses and you try to slightly push them of you, but you feel so weak at the moment.

"we can obviously see that you aren't doing alright.. please.. we care about you and your health.. we dont want you yo suffer alone.." Chuuya wipes your tears and kisses your forehead gently.

After a while of just being in they're arms you fianlly feel brave enought to try and tell them, you tell them how you've felt like you are just a burden in the relationship, like you're in the way of they're love. "..I just feel like i dont deserve to be with you both.. its.. just that you two are double black.. you both are amazing and strong.. and i'm just nothing... i haven't done anything.. You both would be betrter of dating someone else" You say while sniffling and wiping more tears of your face.

They both look quite sad as they listen to you explain how you feel, they both feel really guilty for not noticing earlier. "Darling.. we both love you more then anything in the world, just because 'haven't done anything' doesn't mean we dont love you.." Dazai takes your hand and kisses it, "We married you because you're beautiful, smart, funny and much more.. we really do love you.." Chuuya cups your cheeks making you look at him.

You can feel yourself starting to slightly feel better, knowing that they both love you, but stil, the topic of surrogacy was stil heavy on your mind. "..but.. what about the surrogacy thing..? do you guys still wanna do it..?" You ask them quietly and they both look at each other.

"Well, we do want to have a child, and surrogacy is a good option.." Dazai answers and he can see your face immediately drop making them slightly worried. "is there a problem dear..?" He asks you, "..i know it sounds dumb, but i'm just scared you both will leave me for the surrogate mother if we do a surrogacy.. i'm scared you two will think shes better then me.." Your voice shakes a bit as you talk, and you can see them both kinda realize why you're so sad.

"Oh, so this is what you've been sad about? You've been thinking about us leaveing you for someone else..?" Chuuya says before he continues, "Dear, we would never make you agree to have a surrogacy if it makes you uncomofrtable.. the surrogacy idea was just a back up plan.. for you know.. if you could for some reason carry the baby or you didn't want to carry it.." He chuckles a bit, trying to make you a bit happier. "Did you ovear hear us talking about it? Because if thats the only thing you heard, i'll have you know that that wasn't our first idea" Dazai adds and you feel a bit dumb for feeling so upset over something so small.

"But really [Name], we want to start a familly with you, but we both think its best you get some therapy first. And i'm not saying this as an insult but, we both think you aren't in the right state of mind to make such a big decision, we want you to have healed and to be fully sure if you want to have a child.." Dazai tells you, and now that you think about it, maybe therapy is a good option for you. "..I will.." you whisper.

You hear a satisfied hum come from them both, "We will both be by your side the entire time.."

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OML i'm finally done with this, i hope you like it. Again the ending might be a bit ass since i didnt really know what to write 😢

Also, please tell me the gender of the reader, cuz if you dont i'm just gonna make them AFAB and GN Like i really dont want to acidentally write like AFAB reader when you actually wanted AMAB, so please tell me it in the request 💀

Also, if you wanna be tagged in my post just tell me, idk if anyone wants to 😢

[ragingadhd]

Will and Alyss are trans here’s my essay

We talk a lot about how funny it is that Flanagan unintentionally wrote the gayest love story between Halt and Crowley in TEY, but holy shit we don’t talk enough about how he also managed to accidentally write the two most trans characters ever.

Alyss and Will being trans is a semi-popular headcanon that’s been in the fandom for ages now, but I haven’t seen many people really dive into why this headcanon is so prevalent. I think that partially has to do with the fact that, like any lgbtq+ identity, it’s pretty difficult to clock someone as trans without relying on trans stereotypes. Really, any character in the RA series could be trans if you chose to believe it since being trans doesn’t look any certain way. That being said, I do think there are some pretty clear qualities and experiences that Will and Alyss have that feel very close to my own experience with being transgender.

Physical appearance is usually the first thing people point out/notice when talking about this headcanon. Will is short, more so than one might expect from a cis man. Alyss is taller than most men and also has a deep voice. I have mixed feelings about people pointing to this as the only reason they think they’re trans. I mean, it makes enough sense for it to be the only reason since one part of being trans is the fact that one’s body doesn’t match their gender identity. What I don’t like about that being the only reason is that there’s so much more to the trans identity and experience than “body don’t match :(“

But that’s the cool thing about Will and Alyss, their physical appearance effects their perception of themselves the same way it does for a trans person (or a cis person really, but it feels much more prevalent in trans people). In the first book, Will is clearly uncomfortable with his height; almost any time it’s brought up, he replies with “I haven’t had my growth spurt yet”, almost defensively. Then, as Will becomes more comfortable with who he is, you can see it bother him less and less. I love this bc it’s exactly what happened with my dysphoria as I transitioned. The more I got to know myself and discover myself, the less my dysphoria bothered me.

As for Alyss, she is so clearly so confident with her appearance. She never tries to hide her height or voice. Although we don’t get to see her journey with those qualities, the way she’s so confident feels like something the earned. It’s something she maybe used to feel insecure about, then decided she gets to decide what femininity means to her. Her height and voice contribute to her elegance and femininity rather than contradict them.

Another thing about Will is his name and how it relates to his identity. I know Flanagan didn’t intend for any of this to be some trans allegory, but goddamn can I relate my trans experience to it. Will grew up without a last name, and you can see how deeply that effects him. It wasn’t just that he was “Will no-name”, he was missing a part of his identity. Hell, he said verbatim “at least you know who you are” to a fucking owl because he felt so confused and unheard (which btw is the most edgy teen thing he ever did).

Though you can see this missing part of his identity bother him less as he gained a support system, it’s still clear that he felt like something was missing. If he didn’t feel like something was missing, he wouldn’t have been so incredibly happy when he became “Will Treaty”. And when he got his last name, you can tell he’s proud, not because he finally has an identity, but because he finally has a name to match the identity he’s spent so long discovering and cultivating. He no longer expresses any sadness or grief that he doesn’t have his father’s last name, because he doesn’t need it to know who he is. He’s Will Treaty, and he’s perfectly happy with being exactly that. This is the most trans-coded naming experience holy shit.

Anyway that’s all I have to say about this (for now at least). Go give your local trans friend a kiss.

[justsigma-bsd]

A Blank Page, Torn From A Book Without Name

Well, I ended up trying to put the word salad in my head into actual, coherent words after all.

First of all, everything here is just my take on things. The theories and thoughts I've had on certain things. I don't think any of it is official, but if anything of it is, in fact, confirmed to be true or false, feel free to tell me!

Some of the panels were taken from a YouTube video, which I'll link at the bottom!

TW for: Human trafficking, dehumanization

Ok, so first things first, some of this stuff I've already written down a while back for writing reasons. I found some of my old notes, and noticed that, after rereading the panels, they make more sense than I previously thought.

Let's start here: what stands out the most to me isn't that he's in the desert, not even the ticket. No, it's the simple »[...] or even who I was«

Because who, indeed, is Sigma? Sigma does not have an identity. He has no history, no nothing. Just the clothes on his back, a ticket that seems to be useless and earrings, for some reason.

Without a name, you don't have an identity and without identity you don't have a name.

Then there is this, too:

»I gave myself a name. Sigma. A man of the casino«

I don't believe he had a name upon being created. I don't think he had one for a long time, because in the same panel that he mentions giving himself a name, he also mentions the casino- which came much, much later. Sigma existed for three years by the time the series started. However, the timeline is wonky as heck.

Because how long did he stay with the traffickers? How long was he on his own after escaping? How long ago did Fyodor find him? Questions upon questions, but since I've already mentioned the lack of a name and the traffickers, let's get to my thoughts on that, specifically:

»They captured and enslaved me« along with »And once they knew that I had a skill [...]« makes me wonder: how long did it take for them to find out?

I haven't researched anything about human trafficking, but it's basically slavery, from what I've gathered through the previous things I've heard and read. And he does say so himself, too.

Sigma, three days alive, spent his early life a slave. It's confirmed that he was shackled, seeing that he is wearing them in the panels.

(As a side note, I do believe that he has scars from the shackles around his wrist. He wears a tight, wrist-long turtleneck beneath his coat, and I think it's to hide the scars. Both from others and himself.)

His first human interaction was plain horrible. Did he know and understand that? Did he understand that this wasn't normal? I don't think he knew how wrong this was at first. I don't believe that he understood it immediately. If he didn't know who he was, why would he know that being treated like this is wrong?

I believe that he realized it at some point, but not as soon as it started. I think he lived like that for a while, thinking it was normal, before getting some sort of wake-up call. Perhaps through his ability, or a fellow prisoner. Maybe both, or neither.

He must've gotten whiplash, once people genuinely looked up to him when he was the manager at Sky Casino.

I also think that he, probably, does tend to forget that being treated like that is, in fact, not normal or okay. Our upbringing leaves some sort of mark on all of us, experiences define us, give us habits and a feeling of what's normal and what isn't.

Which means that his "normal" is skewed and he expects being used rather than kindness, probably even after learning that some people are genuinely kind. I'm guessing that his mindset is, due to that, a simple "If I'm alive I'm alright".

I don't think he'd complain about being treated wrong and or left behind, or admit when he's injured. Or at the very least attempt to keep it a secret as long as possible- especially from those he sees as authority figures.

However, I also think that he was isolated, as per this panel:

Not only the text, but also the background paint a picture that causes me to believe that.

I almost skimmed past this panel while making my analysis, before pausing and taking a closer look. I thought this was in Sky Casino at first, until I looked closer and realized three things:

1, the background does not match Sky Casino in the slightest

2, he isn't wearing shoes or his current outfit, but the old clothes he had when wandering the desert

3, the shadows aren't from the light of a window, they're bars from a cell

While I did believe before that the traffickers kept him isolated from others (due to wanting to keep him unaware of the wrongness of his situation as well as to make sure he doesn't learn things he should/other prisoners finding out things that Sigma got to know by accident), this sort of put the final nail in the coffin for me.

But, at some point, he did realize that it was wrong. Perhaps he'd had a bad feeling from the start. Maybe he hated being treated like this. Who knows? Point is, he escaped. This brings us back to this page:

»No matter how kind someone seemed, they used me and then tried to kill me for knowing too much«

Sigma, after escaping the traffickers, after escaping the life of a slave, probably still didn't know much about living.

And I firmly believe that Sigma is smarter than even he himself thinks. There's just one issue: Sigma is naive (at least in my eyes), and it's not even his own fault. He simply tried his best to survive, and what was the reason the traffickers kept him around? His ability, most likely.

Problem is that his ability truly is something people would love to exploit, and it seems as if they did. Which makes me believe that he has a talent for running into murderers thinking they're nice people, only to get a not-so-nice surprise.

»The last one to use me [...]«, this specific line is the reason why I believe Sigma to have been used a lot. We don't know how often, exactly, his ability was taken advantage of. But we know the latest person who did.

Fyodor was the last one to use him, which means that, at that point, he was probably used to it. Used to being treated like a pawn, and used to people trying to kill for knowing too much. And I believe that he was, quite plainly, exhausted.

Imagine, your entire life consists of being forced to aid others with crimes, with being shackled. You don't know the difference between working for someone and being used by someone.

If you were offered what you wanted most, wouldn't you accept, too? Even if you know that you're once again being used? I mean... this time around, you gain something for it. Doesn't that make it worth the risk?

It's a gamble Sigma took... and lost.

This page involves two quotes that give me pause:

»Don't you wish for a home?«

We don't know why or how he knows what a home and a family is, but he does. And he wants it. He says it was never within his reach. But it is perfectly clear to us, while reading the Sky Casino Arc, that he wants it. He wants a home and a family.

He'd rather sacrifice his own life than see Sky Casino fall. »Home« and »Family« are, to him, more important than staying alive. Because it's something he never had, and something he clings to. Simply because he doesn't have anything else.

»I, who was originally 'nothing'[...]«

Is the second line that makes me pause. Because like previously mentioned, Sigma was a slave with no name or identity of his own. We don't know when he found out about being created by the book (and I firmly believe that he found out one way or another), but I believe he didn't see himself as a human before, and this "confirmed" it for him.

Think about it, would traffickers care about their victims? Would they treat them as human beings? Call them by their name? What about a person who has no name to begin with?

He wasn't treated like a human being in the beginning, and thus considered himself nothing. Considered his home and "family" to be worth more than hid own life.

He was literally created from nothing. His story doesn't have a beginning. He has no memories prior to being created, he had no name nor identity. How his story will end is unknown. We don't know what's written on his page.

I believe this, combined with being with the traffickers, makes him doubt his humanity. Not only because he was created through the book, but also because for the first (months? Year?) of his life, he wasn't treated like a human.

His sense of self-worth is probably down in the dumps.

»In the end I never did understand what I was born for...«

I don't think he knows the details of his existence. The content of his page, the words that brought him into existence. He doesn't know why he was born/created. He doesn't know what things were predetermined.

He doesn't know what's real and what's just writing on a page.

Sigma, in three years of being alive, went through hell. He was enslaved, his ability was taken advantage of over and over, he was used by multiple people who all ended up trying to kill him and when he thought that he finally found a home? A family? It was taken away from him.

Genuinely, he needs a plate of cookies, a hug and a ton of therapy.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my little analysis and theories? I never did something like this before, so criticism is welcome!

Here's also the link to the video from which I got the screenshots: https://youtu.be/KwsSvFYAKjA?si=R_IvH-S8GYut_hrG

[sichore]

I've been rattling around my own version of pre/earlyklok so here's what I've got so far:

Pickles has been chewed up and spat out by the industry after SnB, in ruin after faulty contracts made when he was too young to know what he was getting into. He's also extremely burned by not getting the residuals that he should have when he fucking made SnB what it was, and he's a struggling addict.

I don't know yet what all Magnus' deal is, but he never even made it that far and time is not on his side as far as the industry is concerned. So you've got a has-been and a would-be rock star meeting through the guy who would be Dethklok's first manager who think that hey, they could get something going here.

So you've got two guitarists, and maybe at some local joint, they hear a cover band, and holy shit this kid's got pipes. They approach Nathan and everyone gets drinks and he shares that he's always wanted a band (and deep down he knows that he has to have it), so fuck it, they're gonna make a band. And William's there too, I guess, because he's Nathan's buddy somehow, and they don't wanna waste energy on finding a bassist.

So they've got the start of a good thing but it's not quite there yet. None of the drummers they try have the right sound so finally Pickles is just like "fuck it, I'll do it" because he's had to do Sammy's parts so many times already, and... oh, hey, why the fuck is he bothering with the guitar again? This is where he belongs.

So now they gotta find another guitarist, and finding Skwisgaar is akin to finding a temple to a forgotten god. It's a crime that someone so talented should be regulated to rhythm guitar, but Pickles' last bit of money is fueling this, and Magnus has to have his way, so that's just how it goes.

And turns out Magnus' manager buddy who manages Skwisgaar seems a hell of a lot more competent than their current guy, so they got a new manager now. And it's rough, but it works. For a while.

Pickles runs himself ragged after Magnus is kicked out because it's all on him, this is his last shot and they've gotta make this work. And they give this scrawny kid from Norway a chance and he has Skwisgaar's approval, and then... everything starts to fall together.

Their growing fans become fanatic. People flock to them for work that borders on servitude, and money starts flowing in, and maybe now Pickles can relax a bit. Sure, the drugs may still kill him, but things are better now. He doesn't have to fight and scrape for what's rightfully his. He actually owns Dethklok this time along with the others, and life is... as good as it's gonna get.

And during all this, Nathan grows more confident in seeing his dream come true. No one knows when the shift happens, but he stops playing mediator and starts demanding things go this way and that way. Because it's his band.

And Pickles just lets him take over because sure, it's actually their band, but he's tired, man. He's just so tired of having to do things himself.

The rise of Dethklok happens over the span of 10-12 years, anywhere from 1994 to 2006. Snakes 'N' Barrels only lasted about 4-5 years and Pickles spent a handful of years remaking himself between gigs. Nathan and Murderface graduated high school in the late 80s/early 90s, and Toki is in his late 20s by the time the show starts.

[tenitchyfingers]

Did I just construct an entire fan theory about how Chip from Serial Mom is Stu Macher? You better fucking believe I just did. And it actually does make sense (to me anyway, but i’m high on weekend relief so idk I think it fits).

Like hear me out- Serial Mom doesn’t really have a time setting but it was released in 1994 and the story takes place in Baltimore, Maryland while Scream is set in 1996 in California. Matthew Lillard plays Chip in Serial Mom and Stu in Scream, right? Well, that’s not the only thing the two characters have in common. First off, both are weirdly insensitive and kinda cruel although Stu is more extreme in this sense, and both are horror super fans (and Chip works at a video store which like, hello Randy??) and both love gore and morbid shit (ok but same thing). Also, both are weirdly into the idea of murder, and while Chip looks kinda flabbergasted by the idea of murder he’s also kinda really excited by the idea of it. He’s also kinda detached by how horrific the murders his mother committed are, although most other characters in the movie ARE properly horrified. He doesn’t turn against her, and let’s say he’s the most ride or die member of her family like, he’s probably his mom’s biggest fan right from the moment he hears she’s suspected of murder.

His mom is also VERY flamboyant and over the top, just like Stu is in Scream. And both have a weird relationship with the idea of rules, both really strict and really lax.

So anyway, he witnesses his mom get away with SIX murders with just as many witnesses, during trial (let’s give them leeway on how the trial goes, although I have heard of enough cases where murderers got away with it or justice wasn’t served based on bullshit loopholes and nonsense even though there was plenty of evidence right there and I don’t need to suspend disbelief too much, especially considering how closely the whole media worshiping angle mirrors the OJ trial and how part of it does sound like the Casey Anthony trial) so he’s like “I could do that too”, right? Beverly (mom) could get away with 6 murders, so wiggling out of more murder accusations is gonna be easy peasy (although she’s bold for murdering another person RIGHT after her trial, right outside the court she just came out of) and here’s how it goes: the poor dad, Eugene, is kinda stuck with a serial killer wife and two crazy kids who don’t see how bad what she did is, so he just decides to move everyone out of Maryland and try to lay low in a small town in California (where death penalty is still a possibility and Beverly LOVES that her husband is even thinking he could get away from her like it’s FUN

So they move to Cali and change names because the Serial Mom case was pretty big, they all change their looks and personas (which is how Chip, who now goes by Stu, is so good at mingling with other people by the time ‘96 rolls in whereas Misty, now called Leslie, does manage laying low and doesn’t really commit crimes and once she finds out Stu is the killer she completely breaks contact with him, but she won’t tell anyone cause that kinda opens a whole can of worms and she doesn’t want to (her whole moral system was pretty much fucked the moment she realized her mom was a serial killer).

So anyway, in Woodsboro Stu meets Billy, and he immediately sees this kid is not like all the others, and once he hears Billy’s mother left, given how Stu loves and admires HIS mother, he’s like, fuck yeah let’s do this because god i’d be a wreck too, thank fuck my mom is still around. And when Billy reveals his mother leaving is due to Sidney’s mother he’s surprised, but he’s even more sympathetic, like wow this kid has it really bad. So, here’s an alternative, homebrew motive for Stu, because yeah he’s way too insane from the start to think his “pressure” motive is anything but an excuse.

And then this theory kinda offers an alternative explanation to the ‘my mom and dad are gonna be so mad at me’ line (other than it was ad-libbed YEA I KNOW) aka dad is gonna be mad because holy shit why can’t I have a normal family, now I’ll have to move everyone again and it’s your fault Chip, and mom is gonna be mad because I got away with six murders with plenty of witnesses, I AM DISAPPOINT CHIP (and he doesn’t wanna disappoint mom!!! 😢)

This also sneaks right into the Stu Lives theory because that is THEIR house, and since it’s THEIR house and they have lots of money mostly due to dad being a successful dentist (hehehe Little Shop of Horrors) and mom knowing enough about the ins and outs and gossips around the Westboro police, they manage getting Stu’s alive body discreetly switches out for someone else’s and fake his murder.

And hey, he might move with his family somewhere close to Maryland now and go back to his previous identity now, since he’s innocent of any wrong doing when he’s Chip Sutphin.

[autismserenity]

know someone who enjoys horror stories? share this one! it's true!

hahahahahahahahahaha aarrggghhhhhhhhhh 3,000,000 deaths due to COVID-19 last year. Globally. Three million. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. The reason people are still worried about COVID is because it has a way of quietly fucking up your body. And the risk is cumulative.

I'm going to say that again: the risk is cumulative.

It's not just that a lot of people get bad long-term effects from it. One in seven or so? Enough that it's kind of the Russian Roulette of diseases. It's also that the more times you get it, the higher that risk becomes. Like if each time you survived Russian Roulette, the empty chamber was removed from the gun entirely. The worst part is that, psychologically, we have the absolute opposite reaction. If we survive something with no ill effects, we assume it's pretty safe. It is really, really hard to override that sense of, "Ok, well, I got it and now I probably have a lot of immunity and also it wasn't that bad." It is not a respiratory disease. Airborne, yes. Respiratory disease, no: not a cold, not a flu, not RSV.

Like measles (or maybe chickenpox?), it starts with respiratory symptoms. And then it moves to other parts of your body. It seems to target the lungs, the digestive system, the heart, and the brain the most.

It also hits the immune system really hard - a lot of people are suddenly more susceptible to completely unrelated viruses. People get brain fog, migraines, forget things they used to know.

(I really, really hate that it can cross the blood-brain barrier. NOTHING SHOULD EVER CROSS THE BLOOD-BRAIN BARRIER IT IS THERE FOR A REASON.) Anecdotal examples of this shit are horrifying. I've seen people talk about coworkers who've had COVID five or more times, and now their work... just often doesn't make sense? They send emails that say things like, "Sorry, I didn't mean Los Angeles, I meant Los Angeles."

Or they insist they've never heard of some project that they were actually in charge of a year or two before.

Or their work is just kind of falling apart, and they don't seem to be aware of it.

People talk about how they don't want to get the person in trouble, so their team just works around it. Or they describe neighbors and relatives who had COVID repeatedly, were nearly hospitalized, talked about how incredibly sick they felt at the time... and now swear they've only had it once and it wasn't bad, they barely even noticed it.

(As someone who lived with severe dissociation for most of my life, this is a genuinely terrifying idea to me. I've already spent my whole life being like, "but what if I told them that already? but what if I did do that? what if that did happen to me and I just don't remember?") One of its known effects in the brain is to increase impulsivity and risk-taking, which is real fucking convenient honestly. What a fantastic fucking mutation. So happy for it on that one. Yes, please make it seem less important to wear a mask and get vaccinated. I'm not screaming internally at all now.

I saw a tweet from someone last year whose family hadn't had COVID yet, who were still masking in public, including school.

She said that her son was no kind of an athlete. Solidly bottom middle of the pack in gym.

And suddenly, this year, he was absolutely blowing past all the other kids who had to run the mile. He wasn't running any faster. His times weren't fantastic or anything. It's just that the rest of the kids were worse than him now. For some reason. I think about that a lot. (Like my incredibly active six-year-old getting a cold, and suddenly developing post-viral asthma that looked like pneumonia.

He went back to school the day before yesterday, after being home for a month and using preventative inhalers for almost week.

He told me that it was GREAT - except that he couldn't run as much at recess, because he immediately got really tired. Like how I went outside with him to do some yard work and felt like my body couldn't figure out how to increase breathing and heart rate.

I wasn't physically out of breath, but I felt like I was out of breath. That COVID feeling people describe, of "I'm not getting enough air." Except that I didn't have that problem when I had COVID.) Some people don't observe any long (or medium) term side effects after they have it.

But researchers have found viral reservoirs of COVID-19 in everyone they've studied who had it.

It just seems to hang out, dormant, for... well, longer than we've had an opportunity to observe it, so far.

(I definitely watched that literal horror movie. I think that's an entire genre. The alien dormant under ice in the Arctic.)

(oh hey I don't like that either!!!!!!!!!) All of which is to explain why we should still care about avoiding it, and how it manages to still cause excess deaths. Measuring excess deaths has been a standard tool in public health for a long time.

We know how many people usually die from all different causes, every year. So we can tell if, for example, deaths from heart disease have gone way up in the past three years, and look for reasons. Those are excess deaths: deaths that, four years ago, would not have happened. During the pandemic, excess death rates have been a really important tool. For all sorts of reasons. Like, sometimes people die from COVID without ever getting tested, and the official cause is listed as something else because nobody knows they had COVID. But also, people are dying from cardiovascular illness much younger now.

People are having strokes and heart attacks younger, and more often, than they did before the pandemic started. COVID causes a lot of problems. And some of those problems kill people. And some of them make it easier for other things to kill us. Lung damage from COVID leading to lungs collapsing, or to pneumonia, or to a pulmonary embolism, for example. The Economist built a machine-learning model with a 95% confidence interval that gauges excess death statistics around the world, to tell them what the true toll of the ongoing COVID pandemic has been so far.

Total excess deaths globally in 2023: Three million.

3,000,000.

Official COVID-19 deaths globally so far: Seven million. 7,000,000. Total excess deaths during COVID so far: Thirty-five point two million. 35,200,000.

Five times as many.

That's bad. I don't like that at all. I'm glad last year was less than a tenth of that. I'm not particularly confident about that continuing, though, because last year we started a period of really high COVID transmission. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. Here's their data, and charts you can play with, and links to detailed information on how they did all of this:

Here's a non-paywalled link to it:

https://archive.vn/2024.01.26-012536/https://www.economist.com/graphic-detail/coronavirus-excess-deaths-estimates

Oh: here's a link to where you can buy comfy, effective N95 masks in all sizes:

Those ones are about a buck each after shipping - about $30 for a box of 30. They also have sample packs for a dollar, so you can try a couple of different sizes and styles.

You can wear an N95 mask for about 40 total hours before the effectiveness really drops, so that's like a dollar for a week of wear.

They're also family-owned and have cat-shaped masks and I really love them. These ones are cuter and in a much wider range of colors, prints, and styles, but they're also more expensive; they range from $1.80 to $3 for a mask. ($18-$30 for a box of ten.)

[beiasluv]

— op81, cs55, cl16, ls2

a/n: spent so long on the graphic 💀

yourinsta

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yourinsta call me pitbull cuz I’m mr worldwide 🤫 (+🇦🇺🇪🇸🇲🇨🇺🇸)

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landonorris coppiers

yourinsta you’re my og 🫶

landonorris just og? 😔

username I swear if oscar gives us nothinggg

username MY BABY IS SHY OKAY?

username GOOD DAY TO BE A LOGAN SARGEANT FAN 🦅🦅🦅🦅

username I could only pray the Spanish flag is for Fernando 😩

— oscar piastri

Nervously sipping on his emotional support orange juice. Maybe too much nervous sipping.

“So, what’s your type?”

“My girlfriend?”

“Tell her she’s mine too.”

“WOw, will do.”

Cheeks turning red, munching on the fries like a little chipmunk he is.

“I mean– I have three sisters so…”

“That’s a green flag.”

“Thank you?” a piece of chicken in, a smile comes out. “That’s it?”

“Maybe if he’s…Australian, maybe.” you shrugged.

“Yeah.”

“And if he’s…wait. what sign are you?”

“Don’t know..I think it’s kinda nonsense.”

“That’s a red flag.”

“Sorry?” cheeky.

The orange juice was left unattended for a minute. Good sign. Chuckles were still evident.

“Let’s get serious here…” shifting in your seat.

“Yeah.”

“You drive for a living?”

“Yeah, I go around in circles ‘nd stuff,” juice pause. “I could drive you around Melbourne..if you’d want to–”

“And you’ll take me back by eight? Maybe offering your hand as well?”

“Yeah,” squinting face. “I could do that.”

“Lovely.”

— carlos sainz

Does that thing with his eyes, bending down to take the fries in…while keeping an intense eye contact.

“Smooth operator, you like that song?”

“Everyone favorite song no?”

“Hard choice.” pausing your fries mid air. “Spanish songs that I have no idea what they’re talking about could be up there.”

“Really? Tell me one.”

“The one from fast and furious.”

“A lot of them,” throwing his head back. “Can you sing it for me?”

“Asking for me to sing already. You’re in a hurry Carlos?” a sip of your Diet Coke. “Fast Five?”

“Eh..Danza Kuduro?”

“How could I know?” you shrugged. “What’s the song about anyways?”

“Something like…dancing…er…with tight ass.”

“Make sense.”

Looking confused as ever with that big, brown eyes. Mouth agape and shut every time few seconds, curling into a smile most of the time.

“So you’re still looking for job next year?”

“Huh?”

“Lewis Hamilton? Looking for job?”

“Eh..” leaned back in his seat. “Could be. Are you offering?”

“I’m a pretty busy girl..”

“Really? How busy?”

“So you’re up for it? That’s fast.”

“I’ll have to talk to my manager,” raising his eyebrow. “What is your requirement?”

“A Ferrari driver.”

“Sure.”

— charles leclerc

Trying to not laugh his ass off every five seconds or just completely blanks out. Chicken tasted good though.

“Charles, I have to ask you one thing.”

“Yeah?”

“How do you pronounce your last name?”

“I don’t..I don’t care, really.” Shrugging his shoulders. “Charles. Le. Clare.”

“Hm…maybe just use my last name instead, it’s easier.”

“I– yeah?”

“What?”

His chicken was pretty cleaned up the first few minutes. Plenty of confused chuckles.

“Do you think you are a committed person?”

“I…I…it’s a hard question no?” he put his hand together, in an Italian – sorry, Monegasque way. “I like to say I am.”

“I could tell.”

“Really? How?”

“Your contract with Ferrari.”

— logan sargeant

He was used to burger and fries but maybe he could just tolerate chicken and fries for your pretty company.

“What’s your ideal date?”

“Hm..definitely chicken shop dates.”

“Really? Where’s best chicken you ever had then?”

“This one.”

“That’s not an option.”

Subtle stares here and there, his cheeks might be hurting from all the grinning though.

“What’s your ideal type?” munching his ketchup-ed fries.

“So you don’t do researches.”

“I am now.”

“You know…starting to have a thing for Americans. You have any recommendations?”

“You could start by going fishing in the Keys with me,” stretched his arms.

“I’m not into fishy things.”

“Just boat rides?”

“I could do that.”

Coke break.

“Your thoughts on frat boys?”

“They’re fine,” he shrugged.

“And you’re not like a..secret member? Is it like a One Direction..thing?”

“Maybe better looking?” smirked. “I could see myself being one if I wasn’t racing.”

“Dreams do come true, Sargeant.”

“Ouch,” clutching his chest. “Ah– well– Maybe this other dream could come true as well?”

“You being better looking than One Direction?”

tell me who should be in chicken shop dateee 😩😩

– @namgification @jsjcue @c-losur3

Today’s a great day to take care of yourself!!

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | angus tully x reader

sequel to 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲, won't really make much sense without reading that!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | holiday break can only last so long, but angus wants this to be more than a fling-- and you, as much as you want to deny it, already know it's more than a fling. the question remains if either one of you will admit it.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.3k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (18+ only!!), age gap (not huge but angus is 18 and the reader is just out of college), semi-public sex, breeding kink, very inappropriate activities in a church, secret relationship, a wee bit of angst and fluff at the end!

part 3 coming soon!

“Fuck, I don’t wanna go back,” he groaned, dropping his head defeatedly into the crook of your neck.  “I never wanna go back to that horrible fucking school.”

“I guess you’ll just see me at Easter break then, huh?” you purred, grazing your teeth over his ear.

“You know, if sex with you keeps lining up with the Catholic calendar, it’s gonna give me a complex or something,” he noticed.

“Oh, I can do better than that,” you beamed.  “Next time you see me at Mass, I won’t be wearing any panties.  And you’ll be the only other one who knows.”

He perked up again, balancing himself over you with bent arms against the mattress.  “I swear, you’re a dream come true.  A really fucked up dream I had after seeing a porno mag or something.”

You laughed, but it was cut off with him pulling you into another kiss— sweet and slow, with both of you smiling against each other.  With your limbs tangled together under the sheets, you melted together into your bed; and no, none of it really seemed real yet.  Every time this happened, you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that you were hooking up with Angus Tully.  Frankly, you were sort of trying not to think about it, at least not too much.  If you really tried, you could look at his face and see the little kid you babysat all those years ago, and it just made you feel sort of awful about it… yet you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

Your smile fell into a gasp when he started to kiss your neck, his hands guiding your back as it arched slightly.  When he pressed his body against yours, you felt him getting hard against your leg, and you groaned softly.

“Fuck, Angus, again?” you whined.  “We already went twice—”

“I’m leaving in two days,” he explained, “I need you as many times as I can get away with it.”

You wanted to protest, say something about how sore you were or about how he needed to leave and go back home before someone noticed he was gone— but his slender fingers were already diving between your legs and making you just moan instead.

“See?  You’re wet already,” he noticed with a playful mockery to his tone.  “I’ve gotta take care of you, baby…”

Oh, you couldn’t stand it when he talked like that— when he made you feel so vulnerable to him, so paradoxically submissive.  When this started a couple weeks back, it was the other way around: you were the cool, older woman with all the power.  You told him what you wanted and he was more than happy to oblige, never questioning you— he was obedient, basically.  But once you’d had a few more encounters, he realized that you wanted him just as badly… that he could make you desperate, if he wanted.  Once he’d had the smallest taste of control, he was suddenly a changed man; now, he loved to tease and taunt you, see how far he could push you, even once he made you beg— and you expected you’d never get to live that down. 

He watched your face with a mischievous smile as he slowly slid two fingers into you, watching the way you winced and then relaxed.  “I’ll be careful,” he promised, “I know you’re all sensitive still… thought you might wake up the whole house with that last one.”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks flushed, remembering how he’d had to cover your mouth with his hand when he made you come.  These were issues you hadn’t considered much before, since you spent most of the year living in a dorm where you didn’t really care if anyone heard what you were up to.  Staying in your parents’ house again— and secretly fucking their friends’ son in your childhood bedroom— posed new challenges to say the least.

You gasped when his fingers curled inside you, rubbing that spot that made everything clench for a moment.  “Mm,” he observed encouragingly, “like that?”

“Yes,” you hissed under your breath.  Just when you began to let your eyes fall shut, they shot open when he added a third finger inside you.  “Fuck!” 

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” he scolded, “you can fit three fingers just fine— my cock’s bigger than all that anyways.”

He twisted the fingers inside you as your hips rocked, shivers running over your skin.  “Yeah, but still— fuck, it’s a lot…”

“You take it just fine,” he assured.  “You take whatever I give you, huh?”

“Sh-shut up,” you whimpered, and he laughed softly.

“You’re so good for me,” he continued anyways, making you bite your lip in hopes he wouldn’t notice his effect on you.  Whenever he said stuff like that, you just wanted to ask him who the fuck he thought he was— it made you want to shove him off of you and pin him down, remind him of his place.  But you never did, because letting him take control always felt so damn good…

His head dipped down a bit under the covers— and his lips latched onto one of your nipples, making you gasp and grab his hair with one of your hands.  “Oh god— yes,” you praised, shuddering a bit as he suckled hard on the bud.

He moaned around it, his free hand holding the other breast and keeping you down even when your back longed to arch deeper.  “You get so wet when I do this,” he noticed as he pulled away briefly, moving to suck the other for a moment as his fingers gently pumped into you.  When he pushed them in all the way to the knuckle, at the same time that his tongue swirled around your nipple just right, your patience finally gave in.

“Just fuck me,” you begged, tugging harder on his curls as you felt him smile against your skin.  “God, I just— fuck—”

He pulled away from your breast with a pop and a grin.  “Just ask nicely, baby, and I’m all yours.”

“I know you want to, just fuck me,” you growled, but he shook his head and you clenched your jaw.

“You can say it,” he encouraged, “just use the magic word.”

You rolled your eyes, hating the juvenile way of describing it, but his fingers were still moving inside you and you just needed it too bad— “Please,” you breathed.  “Please fuck me.”

“There you go,” he praised, slowly pulling his drenched fingers out of you and moving his hips to line up with yours instead.  He was so hard; you were almost impressed with his resolve, though at the moment you were mostly just annoyed with it.  “Look up at me,” he demanded, making you meet his gaze before he pushed himself inside you.

It was almost too intense, looking right into his eyes as he thrust into you carefully— you bit your lip, watching the heavy sigh of relief leave him as he filled you.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his eyes scanning all over your face and watching your expression change as he pressed his cock as deep as possible.  “You’re fucking perfect.”

You didn’t really believe that, but you at least would concede that this moment was perfect.

You held tighter onto him, legs wrapping around his hips, as he leaned in closer and moaned against your neck.  “How am I supposed to leave when you feel this fucking good?” he groaned lowly, and you felt yourself already beginning to pulse inside as you moved closer to the edge.  “I feel good too, right?”

Poor thing— if only he knew that it was his own fault you withheld praise, just because he sounded too precious when he asked you for reassurance like that.  He was really fucking talkative, way more than you expected; sometimes you thought if you didn’t say anything, he’d just go off on these wild tangents about how bad he needs you.  “You feel good,” you replied, trying to keep it a little vague so he’d ask for more.

“How good?” he asked with a grin, and you smiled, too, because he was wonderfully predictable sometimes.

“So good,” you cooed, “so fucking good that I’m gonna come way too fast.”

“Hey, that’s my thing,” he joked.  His stamina had definitely increased a lot in just a few encounters, but he still had a habit of coming quickly if you got him a bit too riled up.  Not that you really minded… it was still cute, after all, and he usually made it up to you one way or another.

He picked up his pace, letting out a low moan against your ear.  “Tell me you want me to come inside you,” he ordered, panting with each quick thrust.

“Fuck, Angus, I want you come,” you replied, whispering against his ear.  “I want you to fill me—”

“Fuck…”

“And put all your come so deep in me—”

“Fuck, baby,” he whined again.  “I’m so fucking close.”

You whined, running your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, feeling your chest get tighter as you moved closer to the edge.

“Tell me you want me to breed you,” he added; okay, so much for predictable…

“Wh-what?” you choked, feeling suddenly hot all over.  “Angus, I—”

“I know, you won’t,” he soothed, “it’s just, you know, pretend… just say you want it, please.”

You swallowed but nodded, holding on tighter to the back of his neck.  “I… I want you to get me pregnant.”

“God, yes,” he whined through his teeth, fucking you faster.

“I-I want you to fill me up so I can have a baby,” you continued in a whisper, and he moaned again as his grip on your hips tightened.  You could hardly believe what you were saying, nor that he had asked you to say it, and yet it made the most wonderfully bizarre feeling stir inside you— strangest of all, it was turning you on.  “F-fuck, Angus, I’m gonna come.”

“You’re gonna come with me?” he pressed, sighing when you nodded.  “Fuck, let’s do it— we’ll come together.  That’ll definitely get you pregnant.”

“Jesus, Angus,” you hissed, “what are you talking about?”

“It doesn’t get you hot, thinking about it?” he challenged.  “Thinking about us making a baby right now?  Imagining how good it would feel to let me breed you and make you a mommy?”

“Sh-shut the fuck up,” you grunted, but you were already trying to hold it back.

“God, you want it so bad,” he noticed— how was he only this perceptive in these sorts of situations?  “You want me to come in you and knock you up, I can tell.  You’re gonna come just thinking about it.”

Even though it wasn’t really just thinking about it— it was him fucking you deep and fast and hard after a whole night of making love— you were forced to bite your lip and nod.

“C’mon, baby, I wanna feel it again,” he purred.  “Feels so fucking perfect when you come around me— you’re mine, aren’t you?”

Your heart jumped and your eyes shut tight.  “God,” you groaned in frustration, but he just smiled and held you tighter.

“It’s okay,” he cooed, “nobody has to know, it’s just me— you’re mine, right?  Say it.  Say you’re mine.”

You whined when it hit you— and nothing had ever hit you quite like that.  Tensing up inside, pulsing uncontrollably, you felt the weight on your chest lift and you dug your nails into his shoulders as he fucked you through it.  “Fuck!  I-I’m yours!” you blurted out, unable to stop it when you were drowning in your ecstasy like that.

He swore against your ear, and gave you hardly one more thrust before falling over the edge himself, groaning weakly as his body sank down onto yours.

You hoped against all odds that he wouldn’t force you to address any of what you’d just said; he looked so exhausted that you almost wanted to let him fall asleep here if it meant avoiding that conversation.  But it was just like him to only give you about ten seconds of silence before running his mouth again.

He started by just sitting up enough to kiss you on the cheek, then the lips, then the side of your forehead when you turned away.  “That was so hot,” he announced, still catching his breath, as he grinned down at you.

“That was… different,” you admitted as you hoped your embarrassment wouldn’t show on your face.  “You weren’t serious, right?  I mean, you know I’m on the pill—”

“Yeah, of course,” he assured, “it’s just, I don’t know, a fantasy.”

You raised an eyebrow as you looked at him.  “Respectfully, I thought it was more of a nightmare— you know, it’s kinda worst-case-scenario here.”

“No, no, I know— that’s why it’s fun,” he explained.  “‘Cause it’s, like, bad.  Well, not bad, but… scary.  In a good way!  Like a rollercoaster or something.”

“Yeah, sure,” you scoffed, “just like a rollercoaster.  That’s why the maternity ward at the hospital looks so much like Six Flags.”

“You know what I mean,” he laughed.  “It’s just… if it actually happened it would be a huge fucking deal… but just imagining it, just for fun I mean, it makes my heart race.  See?”

He picked up one of your hands and put it on his neck, pressing your fingers into his pulse so you could feel its rapidness.  “Fair enough,” you shrugged, “you sure scared the crap out of me for a second.”

“You liked it,” he cooed, kissing the tip of your nose.  “You like being mine, too.”

Even if you could’ve hid the reaction on your face somehow, the way your weak muscles still found the energy to clench around his softening cock gave you away; he purred as he smiled, kissing you more tenderly on the lips this time.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered to you.

“I probably look like a mess,” you laughed quietly, “I don’t even want to know what my hair looks like after a night like this.”

“Yeah, that’s how I like you, though— you look pretty all fucked up,” he explained.

You glanced over as he moved to bury his face in your neck again, only to see the slightest blue glow in the window: the early light just before dawn.  “Angus, it’s almost morning,” you noticed.  “You need to go.”

“Not yet,” he begged, hugging you tighter.  “I bet I can make you come again—”

“No,” you snapped, “if your parents find out you snuck out— and if anyone knows you came here—”

“Baby, c’mon,” he pouted, “I’ll be quick, nobody’s gonna know—”

“I swear to god, Angus—”

“Fine, fine,” he sighed, “then just kiss me before I go.”

He held your cheek and turned your face to his, and you kissed him; you hated these kisses, the ones that felt like goodbye.  They were amazing, of course, but they always broke your heart.

“I’ll see you later?” he assumed.

“You’ll see me on Sunday,” you replied.

“Nooo, I can’t wait that long,” he whined.

“Yes you can,” you breathed.  “Now get up, please, before I have to literally kick you out.”

“Fine,” he relented, climbing off of you and searching the floor for his boxers and t-shirt.

“I still can’t believe you ran here without even putting a coat on,” you remembered, “it’s below freezing out.”

“Whatever, it’s not even a block to my house,” he rolled his eyes.

“Mr. Lindy across the street takes out the trash insanely early in the morning— what if he sees you running back to your house in the snow without any fucking clothes on?!” 

“He was young once, right?  He’ll understand,” Angus laughed.

“I’m hoping he doesn’t understand,” you groaned, “‘cause if he figures it out and tells my parents—”

“I know,” he breathed, slipping on his shoes and leaning over the bed to kiss you quickly.  “It’ll be fine, okay?”

“Okay,” you smiled back.

There was a brief pause before Angus dropped his arms down against his sides, hitting his legs; “Well, I… guess I’ll see you at Mass,” he announced.

“That’s gotta be the weirdest thing to say after hooking up with somebody,” you decided.

“I couldn’t think of anything else!” he defended.  “I’m about to jump out your window, it’s already a pretty weird transition.”

“Okay, first of all, please don’t jump,” you replied, “but fair enough.  I’ll see you at Mass.”

He hesitated, suddenly giving you one more kiss— one that lingered a little more— before opening your window and beginning to climb out.

~

Mass was certainly a lot more interesting when you kept feeling Angus’ eyes on you.  His family had been just barely on time for the service, so you hadn’t been able to talk to him before it started; you could tell he was dying to know if you’d gone through with it.

You tugged on the bottom of your dress as you adjusted yourself in the pew; it was definitely a weird feeling, and you couldn’t stop worrying that someone, somehow, would see up your skirt and get an eyeful.  The anxiety of it was oddly arousing, though— it made you understand a bit better what Angus had said about the whole scary in a good way thing.

When you occasionally spared a glance at him, you noticed that Angus still looked a little underslept; you’d both been up all night just a couple days ago, but the difference was that your parents didn’t really mind if you spent most of the next day in your room, so you’d had a chance to catch up— Angus’ parents were more determined to make use of his time off from school, and had him doing all kinds of chores and activities on Saturday that prevented him from getting more than a quick nap here and there.

And they’d tugged him out of bed bright and early for church today, so he was probably still feeling the effects of an all-nighter.  That said, he certainly didn’t seem lacking in energy at the moment— he kept wringing his hands, constantly glancing at you, so noticeably that his mom lightly smacked him on the shoulder when she noticed it.

But you were looking across the aisle at him, too.  If for no other reason than how cute he looked in his shirt and tie.

After the service, as everyone mingled around coffee and donuts, Angus made a beeline towards you— you’d kind of hoped he would be a little more subtle.

“Hey,” he greeted, and you just nodded at him with a smirk.  “It’s been too long.”

He glanced at all the people passing by, stepping closer to you to let someone walk past but never moving back; he waited until no one was too close before he spoke again in a lower voice.

“Are you really not wearing any…?” he asked, an extra sparkle in his eye and a mischievous smile on his face.  His smile dropped a bit when you nodded, though, and his eyes raked over you in the most intoxicating, lascivious way.  You were sure you’d never had someone look at you like that, like they’d give anything to devour you right then— and with no panties to hold it, you felt your arousal slicken where your thighs rubbed together.

He cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder, making sure no one was looking over at him as he adjusted his corduroys awkwardly; you licked your lips, a little too flattered by the effect you had on him.

“That’s, um, that’s…” he mumbled, tripping over his words.  “That’s really… yeah.”

“Really what?” you challenged as you bit your lip briefly, moving closer to him and all but batting your eyes up at him.

“It’s really fucking sexy,” he whispered.

“Yeah?” you cooed.  “I think it’s sexy that you think it’s sexy.”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about—” he began.

“I know,” you sighed, “me too.”

“I wasn’t even tired that day— I was wired, actually,” he laughed quietly.  “I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Your heart’s pace picked up a bit, and you glanced away briefly.  “I, um… I thought about you, too.

“There’s gotta be somewhere we can go,” he whispered.  “It’s a big place— everyone’s here, if we just… found an empty room—”

“Jesus, Angus— in a church?!” you hissed.

“Come on,” he begged, “I don’t know when we’ll get a chance again— and I’m leaving tomorrow— and I want you so bad—”

“Shh,” you warned him, making sure no one was nearby again.  “We’ll figure something out— just not here.  It’s too risky.”

“But I need you now,” he insisted, voice lower and darker as he stepped just a bit closer to you.  “It won’t take us long— I mean, it definitely won’t take me long, after spending the last two days thinking about you.”

You crossed your arms, looking down at the floor, and you felt him lean in over you.  “Please, baby?” he whispered under his breath.

Releting, you took a glance at the crowd and made sure nobody was looking in your direction.  “You go find an empty room in the east wing.  I’ll talk to a few people— so it doesn’t look like we’re going together— and I’ll come find you in a few minutes, okay?”

“Great,” he beamed.  “Uh, which way is east again?”

You pointed him in the right direction and watched him bound away, sighing to yourself as you re-entered the crowd.  You got a lot of questions about your plan now that you finished your degree— and you found yourself repeating the same stock answer about how your graduate program didn’t start until the fall so you had the spring and summer to stay home.  Even though you knew you needed to kill some time to look less suspicious, you found yourself glancing constantly towards the east wing, getting more and more impatient for your chance to slip away as unnoticed as possible.

As the crowd was clearing out and nearly everyone’s attention was turned onto somebody’s new baby, you took the opportunity to disappear into the dark hallway.  As you peered around the doors, you saw Angus peeking out at you through one of the little windows; the door opened, and you slipped into an abandoned Sunday school classroom, barely having time to gingerly shut the door behind you before you felt his lips on your neck and his hand sliding up your thigh.

“That took forever,” he complained, and before you could remind him it had hardly been five minutes, his fingers were exploring between your legs.  “Fuck, what’re you so wet for?” he teased, and you groaned as you pulled him closer by his pants and hopped up to sit on the low bookshelf nearby.

“Just hurry up,” you hissed, “we need to get this over with before somebody finds us here.”

He opened his fly quickly, but struggled slightly to free himself from the confines of his trousers; you hummed a bit when he got it out, pressing it against you right away as you moved your hips up.

Thrusting into you all at once, you both sighed slowly; you took hold of his shoulders, he grabbed onto your hips, and instantly he began to fuck into you impatiently.

“God, you’re so tight,” he hissed against your ear.  “Touch yourself— I want you to come, too.”

You reached between your bodies to put a few fingers on your clit, rubbing fast in hopes that you could catch up with him.

“Do you always do what you’re told?” he mocked playfully.

“I think the fact that we’re doing this right after church proves that I don’t,” you replied.

“Guess you only do what I tell you to,” he shrugged, which really made you want to talk back, but you couldn’t because you were trying not to moan too loudly.

He moved faster inside you, and something about the angle of sitting up on the shelf was making him hit just the right spot— or maybe you were sensitive from the exhilarating fear of getting caught.

“What if I got you pregnant here?” he purred, making you arch your back slightly.  “Wouldn’t that be funny?”

“You’ve got a weird sense of humor, Tully,” you breathed, struggling not to let your voice come out all whiny and weak.

“Knocked up at St. Mary’s… it’s what God would want, right?”

“Do you never shut up?” you hissed.

“No,” he smirked, “you’re cute when you’re ticked off at me.”

His eyes met yours, and you felt a strange emotion stir in your chest: you bit your lip, willing yourself to tear away from his gaze, but you found it impossible somehow.

One of his hands moved from your hip up to your chest, palming at you through your dress.  You tensed up inside, making him wince a bit, and you couldn’t believe how close you were already.

“Oh god, baby, m’gonna come,” you whimpered, moving your hand even faster over your clit; he groaned in approval, leaning in to kiss all along your neck.

“Come for me,” he pleaded, “I’m so fucking close— please come, fuck—”

“R-right there,” you gasped, gripping his shoulder tighter— actually, that wasn’t the only place you were gripping him tighter.  He was struggling to maintain the pace of his thrusts, in fact, with how hard your walls were bearing down on him.  “Yes, yes, yes—”

“Not too loud,” he warned you, and you bit hard on your own lip to suppress your moan: it stayed in your throat instead, and you heard him gasp as he heard and felt you reaching your peak.  He had to take his hand off your chest and put it on the bookshelf under you to help keep you upright, and he looked down between your bodies to watch himself give you a few final thrusts.

He stopped suddenly, whimpering slightly as he buried himself in you as deep as he could go; you sighed and laid back on the bookshelf again, having to tilt your head to avoid a figurine of some prophet or saint that you had absolutely no interest in identifying at the moment.

Angus took a moment to catch his breath, before looking back over his shoulder and through the door’s window to make sure no one was in the hallway.  He pulled his cock out of you carefully and did his best to fit it back into his pants.  As you felt a warm oozing feeling between your legs, your face began to heat up.

“Maybe I didn’t think this through,” you realized.

“What?” he mumbled.

“I’m gonna have to go out there with nothing on under my dress, with your come leaking out of me.”

He bit his lip.

“It’s not sexy, Angus!  It’s very inconvenient!” you frowned.

“It’s both,” he insisted.  “It’s very much both.”

~

Though you did get another chance to see Angus before he left, it wasn’t that sort of rendezvous, unfortunately.  Although, just sitting and talking with him was wonderful, too— in an entirely different way.  See, that was the thing that scared you most, even more than how badly you’d come to crave his touch: how happy you felt just being with him.

He was funny, and weird, and seemed to think your stories from college were fascinating; he was well-read, especially for a high school student, and you two could chat about your favorite books— a hobby most of your classmates in college found too nerdy to sympathize with.  

It probably looked totally wholesome from the outside: two childhood friends catching up while they were back home for a while.  And you, you probably looked normal and cool on the outside— you were trying to, at least.  But inside, you were terrified.  You wanted it to be like what Angus said— scary, in a good way, like a rollercoaster— but you were starting to just feel sick.  You know, like an actual rollercoaster would…

“Everyone there is so… dumb,” Angus decided as he leaned back, looking up at the ceiling.

“That can’t be true, it’s a good school,” you tried to encourage him.

“I mean, maybe they could be smart, but they act like morons,” he clarified.  “They hate me, too, and I don’t even really know why.”

“Probably because they can sense that you think they’re all morons,” you suggested; and he looked over at you, as if he’d genuinely never thought of that before.

But instead of addressing that, he sat up again and changed the subject.  “My parents probably want me to go back and, like, put my trunk in the car and stuff…”

“Right,” you nodded, “you should go.”

“Yeah— b-but, listen, um, before I do…” he trailed off, leaning a little closer to you on the couch.  “I wanted to, you know, talk.  About something.”

“We’ve been talking for half an hour,” you noticed.

“Right, uh— I meant something specific,” he explained, his cheeks seeming to get a little bit more pink.  “I… I won’t be back until spring break, you know…”

“Uh huh,” you nodded, raising an eyebrow as you wondered what he was getting at.

“And, you know, we’ve been having such a great time,” he went on, and your heart twisted.  You’d heard this spiel before: the things are so good now, why do we need to put a label on it? why can’t we just have fun talk.  The you’re great, but not good enough for more than this talk.  You decided to jump in and spare him before he said anything too… honest.

“I get it,” you promised, and he looked at you nervously.  “We’re gonna be too far apart for too long— and you shouldn’t, you know, feel like you’re tied down to anything.  It’s okay— I didn’t think I was, like, your girlfriend or anything.”

“R-right,” he coughed, looking away and putting his hand on the back of his neck.  “Yeah, that’s— that’s what I was gonna say.  I knew you’d understand.”

You smiled, wishing you weren’t always so goddamn understanding.  “But it was fun— a good way to kill time over the break, for sure.”

“Yeah,” he agreed alongside a thin laugh.  “I… I think I’ll always owe you, for being my first time and all.”

“Well, you’ve certainly spent your first two weeks of not being a virgin pretty well,” you snorted.  “I had a good time.  We’ll call it even.”

“And… when I come back?” he pressed.  “Maybe we can, I dunno… maybe we can do it again.”

You grinned and tilted your head.  “Yeah, I like that idea.”

“But can I still call you?” he asked nervously.

“Of course!” you beamed.  “You’ll have to tell me if you get any good books assigned this semester.”

“Yeah, I doubt it,” he scoffed, but his smile lifted just a bit.

“I can come see you off, if you want,” you offered, “but it might make your mom suspect something…”

“You’re probably right,” he admitted, “I wish you weren’t, but you are— but I’ll call first thing when I get there!”

You smiled, and he gave you a hug before he left; and he promised to call again, though you’d believed him the first time.  And the next time you stayed up all night with Angus, it was on the phone— he snuck out of bed with a bag of quarters, and told you the phone was free so you wouldn’t feel bad, and talked to you about everything he could possibly think of.

Except, you didn’t quite make it all night: you fell asleep at some point, while he was talking about his English paper… not that he could blame you.

And for some reason, one that even he himself couldn’t quite explain, he kept feeding the phone quarters and listening to you sleep; he didn’t hang up until it was nearly morning and he had to sneak back into his room.

[series masterlist here]

[strang3lov3]

Brain Scramblies

Joel Miller x Fem! Reader

Summary: Bubbly and sweet Reader slips and falls at Tommy and Maria’s anniversary party, hitting her head hard on the floor. Tommy tasks Joel, her grumpy patrol partner, with getting her home safe. In her dazed state, she spills to Joel how she really feels about him! Basically two idiots dancing around their feelings for each other

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: Talk of traumatic brain injuries, but that’s it. Brief mention of smut but mostly goofy fluff. Joel is afraid of feelings lol

A/N: I actually don't feel fantastic about this story, but felt like you all deserved something new from me to satisfy the absence. Next week I'll have a bit more time to continue my bd!joel story and a few others! yes, the title is from wwdits. my other favorite show lol

if you like this story, please leave me a comment 🩷

masterlist

It’s a beautiful night, laughter and music fill the air of the Tipsy Bison bar in Jackson, Wyoming. It’s Tommy and Maria’s anniversary party and you were having a ball celebrating with the two of them. Tommy and Maria loved you, and you loved them. You often babysat their child, took care of chores around their home, and brought them baked goods and other treats. They loved you like you were their own. 

The party was a blast, you spent the night dancing and chatting with Tommy and Maria and others. It couldn’t have been a better night.

Until you trip over your own feet. .

Boom. In one swift motion, too quick for your brain to process, your legs kick up into the air and your back slams the ground, your head following suit. 

Your vision goes dark then, voices fading out. You feel a strong pair of hands grip your shoulders and jiggle your face slightly. You open your eyes slowly, blinking a few times, and the figure in front of you speaks. “Hey, now. Wake up, wake up, Jesus, girl. What did you do?” he asks, but his words sound muddled, like he’s underwater. “Maria, go get Joel. I think she might have a concussion.” he shouts in the opposite direction.

Your fuzzy vision focuses then and you recognize the friendly face and long black hair in front of you. It’s Tommy. You squint your eyes and look around, confused as to why you’re on the floor. The lights are blindingly bright and the music is blaring. It’s too much for your senses. 

“Can you hear me, honey? You took quite a tumble and it looked like you hit your head pretty hard. Drink too much?” 

You struggle to respond, finding it difficult to form words and coherent thoughts. You feel dazed and foggy and there’s a pounding throb at the back of your head. and “Think I tripped,” you finally mumble out, carefully prodding the back of your skull. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time, you klutz,” he chuckled, tilting your chin and looking into your eyes. “Maria’s getting Joel, I think we’re gonna have him take you home. Infirmary’s closed at this time of night but we can get you checked out tomorrow, make sure you didn’t thump your head too hard.”

Joel. Your eyes widened at the mention of him. Now that was something your brain had no issue focusing on. “Your older brother, Joel?” 

“Yes, Joel, my older brother,”

“I like Joel,”

“I know you do, honey,”

“I really like Joel,” you say through a long sigh. “Isn’t he just lovely?”

Tommy looks at you with an eyebrow cocked, completely amused by your honesty. Tommy and Maria had a feeling you were crushing on him, but you stayed tight lipped about your feelings for him. “Yeah, sure. Lovely describes Joel perfectly,”

Joel was your patrol partner. He was tall, handsome, brave, and skilled. He had the most gorgeous brown eyes you had ever seen, and the prettiest gentle curls atop his head. And he couldn’t fucking stand you. 

You didn’t often go on patrol, but everyone pitched in with patrol around Jackson. Being so near and dear to Tommy and Maria’s hearts, they wanted the best for you and always put you on patrol with Joel. He’d keep you safe, they told you. 

And he did keep you safe. But not without constant grumbling and griping about your sprightly attitude and constant chatter. He thought he had it rough with Ellie, but she was a walk in the park compared to you, with your sweet and pure heart and bubbly personality. 

“What’s your favorite kind of cookie?” you asked him once while traveling horseback through a grassy meadow. It was a beautiful day, the clouds were big and fluffy and tall. The wildflowers were blooming left and right, painting the grass with violet and crimson. You held onto Joel tightly, pressing your face against his back. He tried his best to ignore how much he enjoyed the feeling of your arms around his stomach. 

“You ask too many goddamn questions,” he grunted.

“That’s not an answer,” you scolded playfully. 

Joel stayed silent. You were like an annoying, buzzing bee. If he ignored you, hopefully you’d go away. Easy, he thought. Just ignore the annoying, cute, thoughtful, and beautiful bee. 

You asked him again. Maybe he didn’t hear you, you spoke into his right side after all. Still, nothing. “Joel?”

You could hear him inhale and exhale deeply. He was definitely ignoring you. That just wouldn’t do. 

So you pinched his side.

He yelped in surprise. “Ow! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I asked you a question,”

“I’m not answerin’,”

“That’s rude of you,”

“Yeah, well, tough,”

You pinched him again. 

“Gaah!” Joel swatted your hand, nearly losing his balance. “Jesus, fucking snickerdoodles!” he hissed at you. Oh, how you got under his skin. Snickerdoodles were, in fact, his favorite cookies. He wasn’t just saying that to shut you up. His grandmother used to make them for him and Tommy when they were young. His heart broke a little at the thought of her, thankful she had passed long before the world went to shit. “Happy now?”

Yes, you were happy. You rubbed soothing circles into where you pinched him. 

The next day, you whipped up a batch of the best snickerdoodles Joel would ever taste. You dropped them off on his doorstep and left, not alerting Joel or Ellie to what you had done.

Ellie was the one to find your cookies. “Joel, what’re these?” she called into their home, shoving a cookie into her mouth. Joel looked up, rolling his eyes when he recognized the treats in her hand. “Give me those,” he grumbled. 

He took one cookie and examined it, then brought it to his lips. He took a bite, and melted when he tasted the sweet cinnamon and sugar cookie, so buttery and slightly tangy, just how a snickerdoodle should be. It was soft and chewy, just how he liked them.

And dear lord, it was orgasmic. The best snickerdoodle he had ever tasted. He prayed his grandmother up in heaven would forgive him for enjoying it so much, but this was definitely his new favorite. How dare you weasel your way into his heart with baked goods? What a contemptible thing to do. He felt his heart swell at the thought of you and your sweetness. And it fucking terrified him.

Joel put on his boots and practically sprinted to Tommy and Maria’s. Without knocking, he let himself inside and sat down at the table with Tommy as he tried to catch his breath. Tommy looked at him with wide eyes, completely perplexed by his brother. “You have to–” he stopped for a second, breathing in and out deeply. “You have to take her off patrol with me. I ain’t gonna be her partner anymore.” Joel’s heaving began to slow.

“And why would I do that, Joel?”

“She talks too much,”

Tommy let out a dry laugh. Joel Miller, ever the grinch. Heart two sizes too small. “Are we eight years old? Suck it up, big brother,”

Joel shook his head, squinting his eyes and squeezing the bridge of his nose. “She fuckin’ pinched me,” Tommy opened his mouth to speak, but Joel interrupted. “Twice!”

Tommy smiled at the thought of sweet little you pinching Joel. “I’m sure she had a good reason for pinchin’ you. What’d you do to her?”

“I didn’t–it doesn’t matter,” Joel sighed exasperatedly. He had a penchant for the dramatics at times. “You don’t get it. She made me cookies.”

Tommy gasped sarcastically. “No, not cookies. How horrible, Joel! What should we do with her, throw her in jail? Banish her? Feed her to lions?”

“Tommy,” Joel warned with a low voice. “I am not doin’ patrol with her anymore.”

“Joel,” Tommy warned back, matching his tone. “Quit your bitchin’. She’s a nice girl, and you’re gonna take care of her. She likes you, why, I haven’t got a clue.”

Tommy knew the real reason Joel wanted to stop patrolling with you. He was catching feelings for you. And Joel reacted exactly how Tommy expected. He was frightened of these feelings, terrified to let anyone new into his heart. He already made room for Ellie and her bad puns, he didn’t know if he had room for you and your snickerdoodles as well. He did. You were already there. 

Joel and Maria appeared in front of you then, your eyes brightening when you met Joel’s sour expression. 

“What’d you do now, trouble?” 

Trouble. That was Joel’s nickname for you. When he and Ellie finished your cookies, he returned your container to you on your porch.

“Thanks for the cookies, trouble. They were delicious,” he said, his voice was low and gravelly. “Didn’t need to do all that for me.”

“Trouble? Is that what I am?” you asked incredulously.

“Yeah, actually. Pinchin’ me. Talkin’ too much,” Joel did his best to bite back the smile threatening to form on his lips. “And now you’re tryin’ to make me fat, so yeah. You’re a troublemaker.”

Your glassy eyes scanned his face. “What did you do now, trouble?”

Joel bent down to meet your gaze and Maria checked the back of your head for cuts or swelling. 

“Maria says you’re hurt. What’d you do?”

“I tripped and fell,” Joel scoffed. “Figures,” Joel pushed Tommy to the side, crouching in front of you. He took your face into his hands, checking for any other injuries. Your eyes were unfocused and pupils blown wide. He held a finger in front of your eyes, moving it from side to side. You had difficulty following the movement.

“Ouch,” you winced, feeling Maria’s fingers on the tender spot at the back of your head. “I think she smacked her head pretty hard.” she told Tommy. “Very swollen back here.”

“She’s not following my finger. Think it’s probably a concussion, but I don’t know for sure,” he said. “She seems pretty out of it.”

In your fuzzy state, you reached forward and held Joel’s face, mimicking how he did to you. “Handsome,” you murmured. 

Joel felt his face go hot at your compliment. You thumbed his cheeks, savoring the feeling of his prickly hairs on your fingertips. “Uhh,”

“You’re so handsome,” you repeated. Not even drinking a barrel of whiskey could have pried that out of you. You did a number on your poor brain. 

“That’s nice, sweetheart,” Joel turned his head to the side and coughed, trying to hide his embarrassment. He gripped your wrists and pulled your hands away from his face as you pouted. “Think she needs to go home.” “That’s right. You make sure she gets home safe,” Tommy said. 

Joel looked up with a furrowed brow. “Me? Why can’t you deal with her?” his words came out more bitter than he intended, like taking you home was the biggest inconvenience of his life.

“Hey,” you whined. How rude!

Joel apologized quickly. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean it like that,”

“Because it’s our anniversary, and I told you to keep her safe. Remember? Come on now, Joel. Be a gentleman,” Tommy motioned to Maria to help you up. Slowly, you stood up. On shaky legs, you felt your knees begin to give out. Joel lunged forward to catch your fall. 

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. Joel held out his arm for you and you wrapped your hands around his bicep. “Can you walk for me, trouble?” He didn’t actually mind leaving the party early. He wasn’t having too much fun anyway.

“I’ll do anything for you, Joel,” you erupted into a fit of giggles. “You’re so strong!” 

Joel felt his face go warm again as he cleared his throat. Wow, you really did hit your head hard. Joel was used to being flirted with, but this was an entirely different animal. You hit your head so hard it knocked your filter loose. What would you say next?

 His eyes darted to Tommy and Maria, who stood there watching you both, smirking. “Take good care of our girl,” Maria ordered.

Joel begins walking slowly, taking careful steps. You stumble along and can hardly maintain your footing as you make your way out of the bar. You’re still giggling and squeezing his arm. “You are so strong and so handsome!” you squeal.

“Jesus,” he whispered to himself. Was this real you or concussed you speaking?

You walked silently for a bit, gaining a slow and steady rhythm. The world around you blurred and moved quickly. 

“I have a crush on you,” you blurt out with slurred speech.

“That’s nice, trouble,” Joel said, not believing you. You might as well be completely wasted, the way you were making no sense. 

“I mean it,”

“I’m sure you do,” Joel replied sardonically. You tripped again, nearly falling over a second time. Joel caught you and held you tightly. Frustrated, he groaned.“Alright, no more talking. We’re playing the quiet game the rest of the way home,”

“Seriously,” you giggle. “You’re so fucking handsome. You’re the most handsomest man I’ve ever met,” You kept walking and stumbling awkwardly. It was as if you weren’t even walking, just floating along. Your legs didn’t feel real.

“Thank you,” Joel mumbles. He was never good at accepting compliments. But you seem so insistent on informing him of his good looks, he might as well take the compliments in stride.

“You have such pretty brown eyes. Did you know that?”

“I did not,”

“You do. And you have pretty hair,” you paused for a second, catching your breath. “And you have a nice butt,” Joel rolls his eyes, biting back his smile. “I want to have sex with you.” 

“Woah,” he barks at you, unable to contain his shock at your sudden boldness. Where is your fucking filter? Is this even real? Joel will be thinking of this night for weeks to come. “You have brain damage,” he tells you. “Need to stop talking like this,”

“You have brain damage!” You giggle, your feet crossing with Joel’s. Bam. It’s his turn to hit the ground now. You couldn’t walk in a straight line to save your life, even with Joel supporting you. “Oh, shoot. I tripped you.”

“Okay, that’s it,” Joel stands up and without asking permission, he lifts your body over his shoulder. He tries to ignore the fact that your ass is so close to his face. You erupt into laughter, absolutely tickled by his actions. “I know this probably isn’t great for your head, but we need to move. Almost home anyway,” 

“Fine by me, handsome!” you poke his back and his sides. He’s trying to fight off the tingles your touch leaves on his skin. “Are you gonna take me home and have sex with me?”

“Behave,” he warns you. “No, I am not having sex with you. I’m puttin’ you to bed and going to try to forget any of this ever happened. Now quiet, you.”

You let out an angry groan, but oblige. You’re running out of steam, fogginess filling your head even more. You can hardly keep your eyes open. 

Before you know it, Joel is at your doorstep and sets you down. “Where are your keys?” he asks you. 

You slap your thigh, indicating that your keys are in the front right pocket of your jeans. Joel pulls you close and quickly pulls the keys out of your jeans, looking up into the sky to avoid your gaze. He’d need to drink an ocean of alcohol to forget this night. 

Joel fumbles with the keys, trying each one and jiggling it in your door. He figured asking you which key was futile, you were so far gone.

As he’s working diligently to open your door, you can’t help but sigh in admiration. His back muscles tense through his shirt, the fabric stretching and moving back. And god, his ass. So round and plump in his tight jeans. You can’t help yourself. It needs to be pinched. “You really do have a nice butt,” you whisper.

You reach forward and pinch his ass with your thumb and pointer finger. Joel jumps and whips around. “What is wrong with you?” He looks at you with a furrowed brow, but his frustrated heart softens when he sees your expression. You’re smirking, eyes big and without a single thought behind them. You have no idea what you’re doing. He knows that. The real you would probably die of embarrassment if she knew of your flirty and bold antics tonight. He can’t help the smile curling up on his lips. You have to mean all of it, right?. All the compliments and confessions. He knows they’re all true. At least, he hopes they are.

Joel grabs your hand and helps you inside. He leads you through your house, checking each door to find your room. He could ask you, but he really doesn’t want you talking. You need to relax.

Once he finds your room, he turns on the light, leads you inside, and helps you sit your bed. Your room reflects your personality perfectly, so bright and colorful. Decorations everywhere. 

Then, he leaves. 

You feel like crying. Your head feels so murky and full, and the pounding has worsened. “Joel?” your voice is thick. 

No answer. He just left without saying goodbye?

Your bottom lip wobbles and you feel tears well up in your eyes as your heart begins to break. How did you even end up here? What even happened tonight? All you knew is that you felt cold and sick and all alone. Your head feels like it’s going to fall right off. 

You sniffle and hear a thump in the distance. And then another. And another. They’re getting louder now. Footsteps. 

Joel returns and your heart blooms. He always kept you safe, even when you drove him fucking nuts. Of course he wouldn’t just leave you. You see that he has a glass of water in his hand. 

He sits on the bed and faces you. You smile gently, admiring all of his features. His scars, his freckles. His sparkly brown eyes. His salt and pepper mustache. “You didn’t leave?”

“‘Course not,” he grips the back of your head softly and tilts it back, then presses the glass to your lips. “Gotta make sure you’re safe, right?” He doesn’t let you respond to his question and tilts the glass into your mouth, forcing you to take a little sip of water. 

“You take such good care of me, Joelie,” His cheeks turn rosy at his new nickname. How sweet it sounds from your lips. He presses the glass to your lips again and makes you drink. 

“You’re so handsome,” Sip. “Did you know I have a crush on you?” sip.

“I did, actually,” Sip. “Now drink. You need to finish the glass.”

Sip. “You have such gorgeous brown eyes. Like coffee beans,” you whisper. Sip.

“Is that right? Coffee beans?” Well, that’s a thoughtful compliment. He doesn’t bother hiding his smile anymore. 

“Mhm,” Sip. “And your butt–”

“What about my butt?” he teases you with a raised eyebrow. You won’t remember any of this anyway, he might as well play along. 

“Like a peach,” “A peach, huh?” He presses the glass to your lips again, this time not pulling it away. You drink the rest of the water. 

“What about a peach, Joelie?” you question. Your eyes are big and lost. It’s as if the last thirty seconds didn’t happen. 

Your forgetfulness would have worried Joel, but he was no stranger to concussions. Had a few of his own. His daughter, Sarah, also had sustained a few concussions from flying soccer balls. She’d be like this too, acting goofy and speaking incoherently. She was always back to normal within a day or two. You would be okay too. 

“Nothin’, sweetheart,” Joel lifts your legs onto the bed and takes off your shoes, plopping each on the ground. He pulls a knitted blanket over your body and gently leans your head back into your pillows.

You stare into his eyes, his gorgeous coffee bean eyes, let out a big yawn. Your eyes are heavy now and your head feels like a weight, like you couldn’t lift it even if you tried. Joel stares back at you, the gears in his head are spinning. He places an experimental hand on your head and combs his fingers over your scalp.

He continues stroking your scalp, soothing you. Your eyes fall shut, and within seconds you’re in a peaceful slumber. 

He doesn’t leave. He stays with you for another minute, making sure you’re really asleep. 

He still doesn’t leave. One more minute passes. 

He’s still sitting there, stroking your head. He can’t bring himself to leave you. He needs to make sure you’re safe, just like Tommy and Maria told him to. 

He’ll stay here all night, gently stroking your head and your back. Telling himself he’s just making sure you’re safe, that’s all. “Goodnight, trouble,” he whispers. 

He’ll deal with his feelings later.

Part two: troublemaker

@swiftispunk @rosaliedepp @pedrotonin @kittenlittle24 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @brittmb115 @bigboiseason123 @laysmt @venusdemonroe @guiltgoldglory @aubreysylvain @leeeesahhh @oliveg95 @ifall4dilfs @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @harriedandharassed @vickie5546 @louisxosblog @southernbe @ravenouswild @luvrking @r02eg0ld @amythenortherner @walkintheprk @zpandaqueen @silkiers @angel-with-a-heart @kdogreads @boofy1998 @theoremrobin @ihatespoilers @2valentines @happy--birthday--kiddo @elissaaa @paleidiot @brie-annwyl @str84pedro @sesigsss @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @palomaluvsdilfs @kyloispunk @tiredbuthappy @yuk-for-president @jazzy-music-cat

[janmisali]

what do you think of tone indicators in general?

unfortunately my thoughts on tone indicators are somewhat nuanced. fortunately, this is tumblr not twitter, so I can just write out my full thoughts in one post and be as verbose about it as feels necessary.

speaking as an autistic person (and I know there are other autistic people who don't hold this same view, this is just my perspective), I think as an accessibility tool, the extended set tone indicators in current popular use is fundamentally misguided.

the oldest ones, /s for sarcasm and /j for jokes, make sense. their notation isn't the most intuitive thing ("does /s mean sarcastic or serious?") but it's not too difficult to explain what they mean. I've had to spend my whole life learning by brute force what different tones of voice mean and what they change about how I'm supposed to interpret something, so I already know what "read this in a sarcastic voice" and "read this as a joke" are supposed to mean. my existing skills can be translated into the new form without too much effort.

the same thing applies to emoji and emoticons. I know what facial expressions mean, because I had to learn what they mean. figuring out if :) is sincere or not from context is a skill I've already needed to develop. it doesn't come naturally for me, but it's something I already at least somewhat know how to do.

most of the tone indicators in current use uh. don't work like this.

tone indicators like /ref or /nbh don't correspond to specific tones of voice. I don't have a "I'm making a reference" voice or a "I'm not talking about a person who's here" voice that I can picture the sentence being read in. these do not indicate tones, they're purely disambiguators. they clarify what something means without necessarily changing how it would be read out loud.

and on paper, that's fine, right? like, it's theoretically a good thing to take an otherwise ambiguous statement and add something to it that clarifies what you meant by it. the problem is that these non-tone tone indicators are not even remotely self-explanatory. it's up to me, the person who is being clarified to, to know what all these acronyms are supposed to mean, and how they change the way I'm supposed to interpret what something means.

it's, quite literally, a newly-invented second set of social cues that I'm expected to learn separately from the set that I've already spent my whole life figuring out, and it works completely differently.

sure, these rules are (in principle) less arbitrary than the rules of facial expressions and tones of voice and how long you're supposed to wait before it's your turn to speak, but they're also fully artificial and recently invented, which means they're currently in a constant state of flux. tone indicators go in and out of fashion all the time, and the "comprehensive lists" are never helpful.

in theory, I appreciate the idea of people going out of their way to clarify what they mean by potentially ambiguous things they post online. if it worked, that would be a really nice thing to do.

however, sometimes I imagine what the internet would be like without them. what if instead of using /s, the expectation was that if you're sarcastic online there's no guarantee that strangers reading your post will know what you meant? what if instead of inventing more and more acronyms to cover every possible potentially confusing situation, we just... expected one another to speak less ambiguously in the first place?

so, I on paper like the idea of tone indicators. I think it's good that some people are trying to be considerate by being extra clear about what they mean by things. but if tone indicators didn't exist, and people who wanted to be considerate in this way instead just made a point of phrasing things more clearly to begin with, I think that would be vastly preferable to even the most well-implemented tone indicator system.

also /pos sucks because there's something deeply and profoundly wrong for an abbreviation that means "I don't mean this as an insult, don't worry" to be spelled the same way as an acronym that's an insult

[wileys-russo]

filling the void (4) II a.putellas x sister!reader

prequel one two three

filling the void (4) II a.putellas x sister!reader

you looked up from your coffee as the front door opened, your sister walking through and pulling her headphones down around her neck clearly having gone for a run.

"bon dia hermana." she greeted as you only nodded, sipping on your coffee and breathing a small sigh of relief when alexia headed toward her bedroom.

when she returned a few minutes later her headphones were gone and she'd taken off her runners, padding her way into the kitchen to make herself a coffee and start breakfast.

as you sat at the bench drifting away into your own world alexia was stuck in her head just as much as you were, between worries for eli and worries for you her mind was a mess, only worsening after your confession last night.

a confession which you were praying to every and all god that alexia wouldn't bring up, already incredibly embarrassed about your outburst at the hospital you didn't think you'd handle having to confront anything else head on right now.

olga could sense the tension in the room before she even entered, needing to head off to madrid for a few days for work she'd spent most of this morning worrying about what might happen while she was away but alexia had been firm that it was important she still go.

"hola pequeña." the older girl greeted you as you sent her a smile, alexia glancing over her shoulder in surprise when you didn't make any comment on the use of the nickname, though really she should figure she'd lost the right to battle you about that anyway with her behavior lately.

"amor you called jona sí?" olga murmered, alexia nodding and stealing a kiss when you weren't looking as if you were still a child, the captain having taken the next two days off from training to make sure she was around with everything going on.

"two days, more if i need them." alexia murmured, olga smiling appreciatively knowing how hard it was for her girlfriend to take time off, her work ethic just as dangerous as it was admirable at times.

both girls turned their heads as you awkwardly cleared your throat, alexia wordlessly raising an eyebrow as your fingers drummed anxiously against the ceramic walls of the coffee mug clenched tightly in hand, the beverage itself now long gone luke warm.

"can you take me home please? i have work at nine." you asked quietly, alexia hesitating for a moment as if unsure of a response. "you don't want to come to the hospital?" your sister asked carefully, olgas hand moving to rest on top of hers on the counter.

"i have to work." you answered again, a little firmer this time. "hermana if you call your boss and explain i am sure that-" alexia tried again as you shook your head. "i have to work. i have my routine and i need to be home to follow it, all my things are there. alexia can you please take me home?" you stood abruptly, jaw clenched as you smoothed out the clothes you'd been wearing for the last near twelve hours.

as alexia opened her mouth her girlfriend gently tapped a finger against her knuckles in a silent warning. "i can take you on my way to the gym nena." olga stepped in with a smile as you nodded, alexia watching you hurry away to the bedroom to grab your phone and house keys.

"why does she not want to-" alexia frowned as her girlfriend shook her head, cutting her off. "leave it ale. you need what you need, and fresa needs what fresa needs." olga warned softly, hand tracing the catalan's sharp jawline which tensed but none the less the blonde nodded.

"do you want-" "i'll cook something when i get back before my flight mi vida, go see your mami." olga kissed her cheek, alexia sending her a small smile and pecking her lips a few times in silent appreciation before you returned.

"ready to go?"

~

"-no there's still no update, she's still not really awake yet and she's still on the ventilator." alexia explained with a sigh, on her way back to the car and on the phone for what felt like the hundredth time today, having swallowed the bullet and starting to reach out to close family members to let them know what happened.

"tía i promise as soon as she is awake and less high risk i will call you right away, for now she is not allowed many visitors. alba and i only saw her for a few minutes today and we were waiting for hours." alexia fished her keys out of her pocket and hummed, the rapid spanish on the other end of the line the same thing she'd heard all day.

"sí fresa is okay, alba and i are looking after her." alexia spoke on autopilot despite the way the words felt like ashes in her mouth, an incoming call having her rapidly finish up the conversation, abruptly hanging up and clicking accept.

"hola hermana." alexia sighed tiredly, holding the phone between her ear and shoulder as she paid for her parking and rolled her eyes at the high price but tapping her card none the less.

"were you picking fresa up from work?" alba asked, a slight worry to her tone as alexia frowned, stopping in her tracks. "no. she said you were picking her up, olga dropped her off this morning." alexia answered, hurrying to her car.

"well thats what i thought too. but i am here, the clinic is closed and she is not here, nobody is." alba replied, having left the hospital a couple of hours ago. "mierda. maybe she took the bus? i can go past mami's house now to check if she is there." alexia decided, promising to keep alba in the loop as she hurried out of the parking garage.

alexia wasn't sure to be relieved or annoyed when she pulled into the driveway and noticed the house lights were on, the blurred shadows of a figure moving behind the drawn curtains could be just faintly seen.

knocking on the front door a few times alexia tapped her foot, frowning when the door only opened a slight crack and your head poked out. "what?" you asked, a little bluntly as your sister seemed taken aback.

"alba went to pick you up from work and you were not there, we were worried." alexia started as you rolled your eyes, still refusing to open the door properly. "i finish early on mondays." you answered.

"oh, i didn't know." your sister frowned as you scoffed slightly. "why would you alexia? i'm surprised you both even know where i work." the older girls cheeks flushed a little with warmth.

"hermanita-" 'don't, please." you cut her off before she could speak, not in the mood for the conversation you knew she'd want to start right now.

"pack a bag then, you can stay with me again tonight." your sister forced a smile as you gave her an odd look as if she'd grown a second head. "why?" though when all you received in response was a knowing look, your eyes rolled once more.

"alexia, go home. i am fine here by myself, i have work tomorrow again and i already told you i have a routine." you sighed trying to close the door, frustration growing as the blondes foot wedged in the way.

"then i will stay here, i still have some things in my room." the girl persisted as you shook your head. "you don't need to, and i don't want you to." you replied sharply, though you winced as something thudded behind you.

"oh but you are fine by yourself? who is here with you." alexia's demeanor switched as you kicked at her foot and attempted to shove the door closed but to no avail as your sister easily overpowered your attempts and pushed it open, nearly sending you to the floor as she marched in like a mad woman.

"who is that!?"

you scrambled to your feet and quickly snatched up the four year old who went running toward your sister, sitting her on your hip as alexia stared at you wide eyed and in shock.

"whose niña is this?" alexia stammered out as you sighed and closed the front door. "this is sofía." you introduced, alexia's face softening a little at the shy gap toothed smile the small girl gave her.

"sof this is alexia, she's mi hermana." you introduced back, alexia giving a small wave and melting even further at the way sofía tucked her head into your neck. "since when are you shy pequeña?" you teased, a giggle sounding as you poked at her stomach.

"okay sof, how about you go watch your show while i finish dinner and talk to alexia. if you need anything you come get me or just yell out, vale?" you placed her back down as she immediately hid behind your leg, peeking out at alexia who gave her another wave.

"vale." the four year old chirped, tugging on the hem of your shorts as you bent down to her level, something whispered in your ear making you laugh and tickle her again as she giggled and raced back off to the living room.

"she's one of my friends daughters, her baby sitters sick so i offered to watch her." you explained to your sister who nodded, a little dumbfounded as she followed you back to the kitchen.

"have you been here alone with her all day?" alexia asked with an air of concern as you stirred whatever you were cooking, which your sister wouldn't deny smelt leagues better than anything she made herself these days.

"no, just a couple hours. elena does night school monday through wednesday to get her doctorate, whenever her baby sitter isn't free i watch sofía. normally i'd go to her house but with everyone going on she thought it might be better if i had sof here." you spoke quietly, glancing over your shoulder every couple of minutes to check in on the tiny brunette giggling away at a brightly coloured kids show on screen.

"you look after her by yourself?" alexia asked, shock hardly disguised as you rolled your eyes moving the sauce off the heat and huffing.

"yes alexia, believe it or not i can keep another human being alive for a few hours. i've had enough practice looking after myself!" you snapped, pausing to close your eyes and take a breath.

"i don't want to argue in front of her. i told you i'm fine, you've seen i'm okay, go home alexia, your home." you sighed, turning your back to her again after you'd peeked at the living room over the top of her head.

"fresa i also don't want to argue." your sister started a lot softer as you began to dish up dinner. "you know i want to fix this, alba and i want to fix things." alexia promised as you stayed silent, though before either one of you could speak a new voice piped up.

"you're really tall. way taller than my mami!" alexia jumped a little in surprise as sofía now stood next to her looking up in wonder. "is dinner nearly done?" she shot now next to you, tugging again on the hem of your shorts as you looked down with a soft smile.

"nearly. you hungry?" you questioned as the four year old nodded enthusiastically. "so hungry!" she groaned dramatically sagging against your leg as alexia smiled, suddenly slammed back into the memory of when she and alba would look after you at that age and you too would never leave her alone when she was trying to cook.

one memory in particular sat heavily with the captain as she watched you teasingly shove sofía away and take a test mouthful of the food, groaning loudly and happily as the girl hit your leg and huffed opening her mouth wanting to try for herself.

it was another night where both her parents were working night shifts and a sixteen year old alexia had been left to look after her sisters, alba hidden away in her room taking another one of her teenage angst my life is awful i hate everyone naps she so adored at that age.

alexia had been at training all afternoon, currently playing at Levante, and received the news from the coach that she wouldn't be starting this weekend which now made three weeks in a row.

it had put a dampen on the girls mood significantly, feeling quite lost as to what else she could do to prove herself. she already stayed back, arrived early, trained at home, worked on her skills in every way possible she could but still, nothing seemed to be good enough.

it hadn't helped that with eli only recently picking up night shifts you were still adjusting to the change in your routine, used to your papi not being around after dinner but missing your mami, which lead to you being even more clingier than usual.

"fresa!" alexia huffed as she turned and nearly stepped on you as you hovered by her feet after being sent away a few minutes ago, hugging her leg and refusing to let go no matter what.

"fresa please let go." alexia asked as nicely as she could manage, temper rapidly becoming shorter and shorter as you refused to listen to a single word she said.

first it had been refusing to take a bath, hiding under alexia's bed right against the wall where she couldn't reach you and even going as far as to bite the tip of her finger as she finally grabbed a fistful of your shirt and pulled you out.

next it was trying to drown her in a tidal wave of soapy water when she finally got you into a bath, soaking the clothes she'd not long changed into after her own shower.

but still alexia managed to hold her tongue, speaking to you softly and encouragingly as eventually you sat down and allowed her to wash your hair.

but then you'd ran around half dressed and still wet for half an hour, finding endless amusement in the way your older sister just couldn't catch you, giggling and screaming with delight as alexia resisted the urge to kick you like a football when she finally scooped you up and forced you into the rest of your pyjamas, towel drying and braiding your hair so it was out of your face.

well braiding it as best she could as you'd squirmed and wriggled and kicked, whining that alexia didn't do it right and that it was too tight and then it was too loose and that only your mami knew how to do your hair right.

a full blown tantrum over your hair which took alexia a good half an hour to calm you down again had seemingly tired you out as your sister left you on the sofa with your favourite movie on.

alexia now an hour later than planned started on dinner, stress building as it rapidly neared your bed time and the brunette feared any more disruptions would only worsen your behaviour.

she'd gotten halfway done with dinner before you grew bored of your movie, alexia's attempts to wake up alba to help only resulting in a shoe flung at her head and a door slammed in her face as she resisted the urge to strangle the younger girl.

it seemed the cure to your boredom was to latch yourself firmly to your eldest sisters leg, curling around her like a monkey as no amount of shaking or begging had you letting go.

with all of that happening alexia had almost burned dinner, patience now a thin veil as she firmly yanked you off her leg and placed you down, shooing you away and promising dinner was almost done.

though of course you hadn't listened and immediately returned to hover under her feet now bringing a toy crane your papi had gifted you. and it was the small piece of plastic alexia had stepped on with barefeet, causing her to trip and a hand to shoot out to stop herself from falling.

that hand falling on the stove had meant another wave of pain rocked her body as she hissed and saw red, nearly tripping over you once again as you made noises with your mouth and sat on the floor between her legs refusing to move.

"why do you have to be such a pain! why can't you listen! i said to leave me be and you hover under my feet and trip me and do not go away! go away fresa!" alexia had lost it at this point, flying entirely of a dangerously unbalanced handle as she yelled.

but all of that anger drained from her body in a millisecond like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over her head as she watched your eyes well up with tears, crane clattering to the floor.

"no no no hey pequeña-" alexia cooed softly immediately dropping to her knees and reaching for you but you were gone, sprinting away as fast as your small legs could take you as alexia's heart broke and she stood, quickly pulling the pot off the stove and running after you.

she checked your room first in all the usual hiding places but came up with nothing, calling out for you and begging you to come out, apologizing over and over but even in her own room she couldn't find you, worries growing with each passing second.

alba's door now locked she knew that was out of contention, and her body flooded with relief as she stepped into her parents bedroom and caught sight of your leg in the mirror where you'd wedged yourself under their bed.

"fresita." alexia called out softly, her chest aching at the sniffles which could be heard from your hiding spot, the older girl sitting cross legged on the floor and begging you to come out with no luck.

you refused to say a word bar the tiny sniffles and hiccups that left you, sounds of pain which were much too large for a body as tiny as yours as alexia's own flooded with guilt for her outburst.

"hey fresa ven aquí. nena i am so so so sorry for yelling, i didn't mean it promesa. please come out, lo siento mucho hermanita please." alexia continued to beg, leaning down to peer at you under the bed as you caught her eye with another sniffle, rolling over so you were facing the wall and tucking into yourself even tighter.

with a sigh alexia ran a hand through her hair, jumping as a hand landed on her shoulder, surprised to see alba now stood behind her. she frowned a little as the younger girl sat beside her, pulling something from her pocket and placing it just under the bed.

"fresita." alba cooed, voice thick with sleep as you turned under the bed, spotting your favorite chocolate bar sat a few feet away.

as alba noticed your tiny hand reach out for it she placed a finger on top, pulling the treat a little further away as you frowned and wiggled closer, though again it was tugged just out of reach.

this game of cat and mouse continued for a while until the chocolate bar sat on the floor between your sisters and eventually your head peeked out from under the bed cautiously, both older girls smiling down at you.

you watched them for a moment as neither of them made any move to reach for you, aware one sudden movement could be all it took for you to reatreat again.

when they didn't move you slowly wiggled the rest of your body out, reaching for the chocolate and snatching it, both your sisters holding their breath but sighing quietly as you sat up and didn't seem inclined to return under the bed.

"i'll go finish dinner." alba murmured as you struggled to open the chocolate, alexia sending her a grateful smile as she disapeared out of the room.

"do you want me to open it pequeña?" alexia asked softly as you nodded, shuffling a littler closer as your sister took it from your outstretched palm and opened it, handing it back.

as you took a bite this time alexia reached for you, relieved when you put up no fight as she sat you in her lap, arms protectively wound around you and her face buried in your hair.

"tickles!" you huffed as alexia exhaled tiredly, wriggling around as your sister smiled and turned you in her lap, grabbing under your arms and standing you up so you were both eye to eye.

"fresa. i am very very very sorry for yelling and for if i scared you, i am not mad at you." alexia promised as you nodded and her thumb swiped at the tear tracks under your eyes with a pained smile.

"sorry i tripped you." you whispered out, looking down guiltily as alexia's finger tilted your chin back up so your eyes locked with hers once again.

"its okay hermanita, i know you did not mean to. you just miss mami, sí?" you nodded at that as alexia tugged you into a tight hug, peppering kisses along the crown of your forehead.

"i miss her too fresa, but we will get better at this, we will." alexia promised, cradling your head as you nodded into her chest. "but sometimes when mami is not here and i ask you to do something, i need you to do it, vale?" alexia murmered as you pulled your head back.

"vale. sorry ale." your bottom lip wobbled again as alexia was quick to catch the rogue tear with her finger, kissing your cheek repeatedly and carefully standing still with you held tightly in her arms.

"the kitchen can be dangerous sometimes fresa, especially sat on the floor or attached to my leg like a little monkey." alexia warned tickling at your stomach as you giggled and a wave of relief washed over her seeing you smile again.

"you're just my best friend ale and i don't know what to do without you." you mumbled tiredly with a yawn as your head slumped on her shoulder, fatigue clawing at you as it was now past your normal bed time as alexia melted and almost cried, exhaustion hitting her as well.

"oh mi precioso fresa you are my best friend too. forever and ever and ever nena, promesa."

"my mami stabs people! what do you do?" sofía was now stood back next to alexia, smiling up at her clearly no longer as shy as the older girl was flung into reality, blinking a few times as she adjusted and tuned back in.

"elena works with me at the clinic." you quickly clarified with a small amount of amusement seeing the mild horror flicker through the older girls eyes as she registered what sofía had said.

"i play football. do you like football?" your sister dropped down to the girls level, the two of them chattering away and before you could blink suddenly sofía was tugging her away to the living room with her.

you glanced over a few minutes later to see the two of them sat cross legged on the floor, alexia trying to teach sofía some sort of clapping game as you sighed and dished up a third bowl of the meal.

"dinner is done." you called out, ensuring the stove was fully off as within a blink there was an eager four year old climbing up into her chair as you chuckled and handed her a fork.

"you may as well stay, i know olga is the cook anyway." you gave your sister a small smile as alexia did her best not to let a grin overtake her face as she sat down across from the two of you and you slid her a fork.

"gracias fresa." alexia smiled as sofía paused mid mouthful to give you a curious look. "she calls you strawberry." the brunette pointed out as you nodded. "she does, thats my favourite fruit." you poked at her nose as she huffed and smacked your hand away.

"when she was your age all she wanted to eat was strawberries, for every single meal." alexia added on pulling a stupid face at the girl who giggled. "you can't do that silly!" sofía shook her head at you.

"can too, and strawberry milk." you grabbed a napkin and sofía's chin in your hand, wiping the copious amount of food which missed her mouth away as she whined and tried to push you off.

again alexia was hit with a wave of nostalgia, vivid memories of when she sat in your chair and you sat in sofia's, the smile fading from her face as her stomach churned with guilt, somewhat grateful for the small four year olds constant chatter meaning neither you or alexia really had to interact much.

"alexia do you have a football? can we play?" sofía grabbed your sisters hand once she was done helping you clear the table, hitting the catalan with the best puppy dog eyes she could muster not unlike you did all those years ago when you were determined to get your own way.

you caught her eye and the slight raise of her eyebrow, pausing for a moment before sending the blonde a curt nod. "i'll wash up." you declared, dismissing her attempts to offer help as sofía pulled impatiently on your sisters hand.

"sí, i have lots of footballs nena. ven conmigo and you can choose one!"

~

you'd been keeping a close eye on the pair as they raced and chased one another around the backyard, the summer evening sun starting to fade fast as you dried and put away the last plate.

you'd like if you said it hadn't shocked you a little to see your at times quite awkward sister be so open and care free with sofía, you having caught her earlier chase the small girl around the backyard pretending to be a football eating monster.

you'd be lying to yourself if similarly to alexia watching their interactions didn't bring up any thoughts or feelings toward your own childhood but in no state of mind to unpack that just yet you squashed it deep deep down and refused to acknowledge it.

you were stood on the back steps just about to call the two of them in now the sun was near fully set when it happened.

all it took was a misplaced step and suddenly sofía was falling head over heels, skinning her knee on the brick retaining wall of the small vegetable patch in the corner.

alexia's sisterly instincts kicked in as she raced across to comfort the now crying girl but you beat her to it, quickly lifting sofía up and into your arms as you bounced her up and down.

"hey hey hey nena its okay! you're okay. just a little fall sof, you're okay." you repeated over and over, your sister watching on a little dumbfounded as you hurried inside, alexia grabbing the football and following.

"hey you're a big girl right? big girls get skinned knees! its all a part of growing up sof." you sat her down on the kitchen counter as her cries turned to hiccups and she nodded.

"its okay to cry though nena, its good to cry sometimes! never let anyone tell you you're not allowed to. sometimes tears can be happy as well!" you kept the girl engaged as you cleaned her knee, poking at her stomach and making jokes, her giggling distracting her from the alcohol swab wiping away at the small graze.

"now, i need someone really really special to help me make a very important decision. anyone?" you asked, holding something behind your back and making a silly face, sofía nodding eagerly as her hand shot into the air.

"anyone? does anyone want to help?" you pretended not to notice, looking around as the four year old huffed and alexia smiled softly hovering nearby watching the interaction. "me! me me me!" sofía chanted impatiently as you sighed.

"i guess nobody wants to help!" you threw your hands up and turned to go as a small hand grabbed a fistful of your t-shirt and tugged. "oh! do you want to help me sof? why didn't you tell me!" you teased, jabbing playfully at her sides as she squealed and kicked at you.

"i will help." the girl nodded as you did the same. "okay. mickey mouse, or goofy?" you held up two different plasters as sofía's face lit up and she instantly pointed to the goofy one.

asking her to sit still for a moment you carefully applied the plaster over the small graze, kissing the top of her knee and standing up straight away. "all fixed! i think we do not need to cut this off...yet." you grabbed her foot and inspected her leg with a frown.

"hey!" the brunette gasped as you pulled a shocked face and ruffled her hair, picking her back up again. "bath and bed." you pinched her nose as she groaned but made no move to fight, going limp in your arms as you smiled and kissed her cheek.

"i'm just gonna..." you jolted a little admittedly having forgotten alexia was still here as you noticed her, your sister nodding in understanding.

"don't go yet! i wanna say goodnight." sofía yelled to alexia over your shoulder as the girl promised she wouldn't and took a seat on the sofa, exhaling as she did so, head swamped with a tidal wave of memories, only worsened as she stared around at her childhood home.

alexia hadn't realised how long she'd been trapped in her own mind but what felt like mere seconds later a body was latched to her leg and you were waiting in the hallway, arms crossed and a large wet patch on your shirt where the four year old had gotten a little too enthusiastic with the plastic duck she always had with her.

"buenas noches alexia. it was fun playing with you!" sofía smiled a little more tiredly now, climbing onto the sofa and hugging the older girl tightly who perhaps clung on a second or so too long, flashes of when it was you hugging her goodnight still lingering at the back of her mind.

"it was very nice to meet you nena, remember drive through!" your sister pretended to kick a ball as sofía giggled and copied the action before waving and racing back to your side as the two of you disappeared again.

when you returned around fifteen minutes later now changed into dry clothes and the four year old sleeping peacefully in your bed it wasn't a surprise to see alexia curled up on the corner of the lounge watching something.

you didn't say anything at first as you settled at the opposite end, a somewhat uncomfortable unspoken tension filling the gap between the two of you.

"i assume you are staying the night then." you spoke up first, knowing alexia well enough that when she had her mind set on something it was near impossible to change it.

"sí." your sister confirmed as you gave a small nod. "you are very good with her." the blonde commented next, throwing you a small look as your own eyes stayed fixated on the tv.

"as kids go she's pretty easy." you gave a shrug, tucking your knees up to your chest. "everything you do with her, i used to do with you." and there it was.

"alexia-" you started with a small sigh. "no, fresa i know. we don't need to speak about it, i just wanted to say it. she reminds me a lot of you is all, and i miss it sometimes." alexia admitted, nervous that with one wrong word it might send you recoiling into yourself and off to your room, worsening things.

a beat of silence paused and alexia took that as a silent cue you were done, turning her head back toward the tv.

"sometimes i miss it too."

you'd spoken so quietly you weren't even sure if your sister had heard you, grateful that if she did she chose not to comment on it, the two of you sitting in silence that albeit awkward was a little less tense watching television.

alexia looked up from where she was getting some water in the kitchen at a soft knock at the door, watching you hurry over to pull it open, an unfamiliar girl just visible through the window as alexia leaned against the counter.

no words were exchanged as you lead the girl inside and the two of you returned a moment later, sofia back in her mothers arms as the girl who didn't look much older than twenty two or three loaded her into a carseat.

when she returned to speak with you alexia hadn't meant to eavesdrop and overhear, she really hadn't.

"thank you so so much for this chica, she adores you and i appreciate you." elena sighed pulling you into a hug as you assured it was no problem and you were always happy to help out if needed.

"please don't give me that look." you sighed after you told her you'd see her at work tomorrow. "mateo said you could have the whole week off and with pay! why are you working?" elena told you off firmly but not unkindly.

"i like working." you justified with a shrug, the older girl not buying it as she raised an eyebrow and you deflated a little. "i can't see her like that el, i can't." you whispered out, voice on the cusp of cracking as alexia's eyebrows furrowed from where she stood within earshot.

"she's your mami amiga she would want you there with your sisters, supporting each other through this. not stabbing grumpy old men with low iron!" elena teased with a soft smile as you barely cracked one of your own.

"your sisters are trying, sí? let them try, i am sure that they love you very much." elena promised as alexia was taken aback at her words, the jealousy which had been simmering at the surface of the comfort this stranger was providing you instead of her, easing a little.

"i know. but i can't see her like that, i can't." you repeated with a shake of your head. "why?" elena asked softly, a hand sat on your shoulder with a gentle squeeze as you shook your head.

"you can talk to me about anything chica, you know this. we all love you and are here for anything you need!" your friend encouraged gently, alexia's grip on her glass tightening as she heard the unmistakable sound of you choking back a slight sob before the next words you whispered shattered her heart completely.

"because the last time someone i loved when into hospital, he never came back."

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

five

[familyvideostevie]

steel drum weight of me

joel miller x fem!reader, 18+ mdni

summary: joel comes back from his wall shift with hands in need of some serious tlc. but why stop there? | 3.2k

warnings: fem!reader, fluff turned to smut, a tender blowjob, p in v sex, unprotected sex, riding, creampie

a/n: this could be in the same universe as come care about me and watching you with wonder but who knows. what matters is it's a post-part i jackson au and all is well. this is my first fic in a while and i hammered it out today so hopefully it's coherent. <3 series masterlist here.

__

Jackson looks its best in the winter.

You've always thought so with its endless skies gone white, blending in with the grey clouds carrying the constant threat of snow. The peaks you never tire of, such ethereal beauty in a world otherwise gone to shit, looming over town with a steadfastness that you can fool yourself into thinking means protection, means safety. In reality, they're just something nice to look at when you have a free moment.

It's also fucking cold.

But you can deal with that. You've spent more winters in the last twenty years than you'd like to remember mostly outside, freezing your ass off, fingers so numb you could barely pull the trigger. But when it counted, you did.

Winter now means a town full of children laughing and having snowball fights. It means big pots of stew and your pick of hats, scarves, and a good pair of boots. It means a warm house to go back to every night, a bed to crawl into, and a man you love to hold you.

Things could be worse.

You're home first today. Joel and Ellie are on the wall and have been since mid-morning. The light is already going, the sun dipping behind the Tetons, sky that winter mix of purple and pink that makes the breath catch in your throat no matter how many times you see it. There's a flu going around and taking people out for a few days at most but it means fewer bodies free for the wall and for patrol. You're pulling a double tomorrow and you're already looking forward to the hot bath you'll take after.

Today, though, you change from your work clothes to something softer, a sweater that travels between your drawer and Joel's, thick socks Dina gave you for your birthday last year. It's hard to heat houses like yours the way you used to but it works well enough to fight the chill so long as you layer. That's the name of the game these days: adapting.

You set the kettle to boil and forgo thinking about dinner for a few hours. Joel won't drink tea with you but if Ellie stops by she'll have some. Maybe you can convince her to watch the movie you pulled from the library this week. You love him, but Joel just doesn't appreciate comedies.

The front door creaks, the bell you have hanging from the doorknob jingling.

"S'me," Joel calls into the house. "You home?"

"Making tea." The kettle isn't steaming yet so you lean against the counter and wait.

The sounds of his return are familiar even though you can't see him. He locks the door with a click, shrugs his jacket off with a sigh. He sits down on the bench you put in the entryway so he can take his boots off. The thunk of one and then the other. He'll tuck them next to yours under the coat rack. When the weather is bad you try to come in the back door so not as to track snow through the house but you don't want his back to get any worse so a bench in front makes sense.

The kettle screams. You pull it off quick and pour the water into your mug -- a chipped green one with a dinosaur holding a cookie that you find endlessly amusing -- and leave it to steep. The floor creaks under your socked feet as you make your way into the hall. Joel still sits on the bench digging into the meat of one palm with his thumb like he's working the feeling back into them.

He looks up and his jaw softens a little. His cheeks are rosy from the cold and his hair a mess from the wind. "Evenin," he says.

"How was the wall?"

"Fine." He stops messing with his hands and rolls his shoulders back with a grunt. "Ellie swears she saw a moose on her last patrol. Said to tell you. I think she's fuckin' with me. How was your shift?"

"Fine," you echo. "Is she coming for dinner?"

He shakes his head. "Game night at Jesse's."

You cross the remaining distance between you and he parts his legs automatically so you can stand between his knees. You run a hand through his hair, pushing the greying fringe back from his eyes. He looks up at you and finally smiles, just a little. You drag your hand down the side of his face and enjoy the feel of his beard on your skin.

"Maybe she did see a moose." He rolls his eyes and brings a hand up to cover yours. You lean down to kiss him but something catches your eye and you pull back, tugging your hand from beneath his to circle his wrist.

"Jesus, Joel." He makes a surprised sound.

"Hey now, what --"

You pull his other hand from his knee and hold them both close to your face, turning them over in the light of the entryway. "You didn't wear gloves, did you?"

He just shrugs. That means someone else on the wall -- probably Ellie -- forgot theirs and he handed his own over.

The skin of his knuckles is dry and cracked, the rest of his palm dry and cold to the touch. You've seen them bloody, broken and bruised, and compared to that, this is tame. Welcome, almost. But you know he won't do a damn thing about it, let himself bleed rather than take a second to make things better.

And you've never minded this part. Taking care of him, making him slow down and rest for even just a little bit. You both know you'd get your hands dirty or worse for him and he for you, but this is the part he has trouble with. So you take the reigns.

It's part of how you fit together -- part of how you look after each other.

"We've got something for this." Joel looks unamused. You press a light kiss to one of his knuckles and his nostrils flare. "Go sit on the couch," you say.

"I'm fine --"

"Joel, they'll bleed if you don't let me --"

"I said I'm --"

"Hey," you say. He hears the finality of your tone and lets you have it, sighing your name in one long breath.

"Alright," he says. "Move, then."

You press a quick kiss to his lips and release his hands to step back. He stands with his usual grunt and you have to stop yourself from leaning into the width of him, from wrapping your arms around him and slotting your nose in his neck and never letting go.

"It's that salve Dina brought over last week," you tell him. "The new one for the winter. Smells nice. Good for this kind of stuff."

Joel makes his way to the couch and you fetch the tin from the kitchen.

"What's it made of?"

"Uh -- oil? And some flowers, I think? Wax, maybe."

He's settled into the cushions when you return, smirking. "It's okay to say you don't fuckin' know."

You sit next to him and unscrew the top, folding your legs so you're facing him. "Well then, I don't fuckin' know." You're sure to imitate his drawl.

"Cute."

"Gimme those hands, big guy."

The salve smells faintly of lavender and it's cold on your fingertips. Joel extends his right hand and you work it into his skin slowly, extra careful around where it's cracked and split. You feel his eyes on you but you let him look.

"Feels good, huh?" He hums. "If you'd wear your gloves then --"

"What was I gonna do, let her freeze?" So it was Ellie, then. You flick your gaze up and find his brow furrowed. If you have a free hand you'd smooth the crease with your thumb.

"No," you say. "Guess it's a damn good thing you have me here, then."

He chuckles, a throaty, rusty sound. "Guess so."

You finish the first hand and motion for his second. He gives it to you and you dig your thumbs into the meat of his palm. Joel lets you touch him whenever you like, for the most part. Pressing into his side when you walk down the street in town, trailing your lips down his neck until he whines just a little in your bedroom. You've worked knots out of his shoulders and cleaned blood from surface wounds. You can never get enough of him, of his warmth, the expanse of his tanned skin all yours for the taking.

And, boy, he touches you back.

So you take your time. You rub the salve between his fingers, over the ridges of knuckles split so many times you don't even know about. His hands are rough even when they're not dry and cracking, callused from years of hard work. From years of violence and playing guitar, shooting a gun and holding the people he loves. Dotted with scars and nicks, hands that have touched every part of you.

Joel's slightly slimy finger taps your chin. "You okay?" You've been stroking the same bit of his hand for who knows how long.

"Yeah," you say and mean it. You rub your own hands together to soak in some of the salve before putting the lid back on the tin and standing. "Need to let it soak in."

"Feels soaked in already," he grumbles.

"Stay there." He purses his lips. "I mean it, Joel."

"Bossy today," he says. "There's wood that needs choppin'." You ignore him since he's just being annoying. The salve goes back in the kitchen and his voice trails after you. "And I told Tommy I'd --"

You turn on the tap. "You gotta let that soak in," you say again from the sink.

"What? Can't hear over the water."

You turn off the tap and dry your hands. Joel is still on the couch when you return. "Sorry," you say. You run your hand through his hair again and settle back down next to him. "I said be patient."

"Don't think that's what you said."

"It's what I meant."

And he looks at you in that way that always makes your face feel hot. Like he's seeing right to the bone of you, like he's laying you bare on the floor in his mind. Like he never wants to stop looking at you, next to him on the couch, leg pressed to yours. Like he loves you.

"Alright," he says.

You get an idea, the flames licking at your belly and your hands itching to touch him again, to touch him differently than before. That idea has you grabbing a pillow and tossing it to the floor, has you getting up and drawing the curtains before you sink to your knees before him.

Joel only looks mildly surprised, eyebrows raised, mouth tugging up at the corner. "Now, I ain't gonna complain but --"

"Then don't," you say. You tug his shirt from his waistband and start working on his belt. "Gotta pass the time somehow. And I don't know what we're doing for dinner yet, so maybe I'm just stalling."

"Hell of a way to stall." He reaches for you to touch your face, maybe, or help you with his belt, when you click your tongue. "We can just go to the community hall--"

"Don't touch," you remind him. "You have to let it--"

"Soak, Jesus, yeah, yeah." Joel tips his head back along the sofa and takes one deep breath. If he really wanted to he could ignore you and you'd let him get away with it, but if there's one thing you and Joel have solidified, it's trust. He trusts you to take care of him, to handle him with hands that love him.

So you do. He lifts his hips just a little so you can tug his jeans down, zipper undone and button popped. You pull out his cock, already half-hard at the promise of what's to come. You spit into your palm and stroke him once root to tip and he hisses. More blood flows and he stiffens in your hand.

"You just gonna look at it?"

You give him a squeeze for being a shit. He laughs but it sounds punched out, on the edge. Frankly it's an effort not to take him in your mouth right away. You've always loved this -- the exchange of power, the trust. You're the one on your knees but you're calling the shots. And he's mouthwatering. The way his cock curves a little, the vein that runs along the underside. The mushroom head a little pinker than the rest, the wiry hair at his base. The hefty weight of his balls in your hand, on your tongue. You know how to make it good for him and it's good for you, too.

Joel opens his mouth to no doubt say something else annoying so you finally drag your tongue along the vein, swirling a little at the top before taking just the tip of him in your mouth. His precome is salty. You work your hand along the rest of him as you start to suck in earnest, hollowing your cheeks and taking a little more each time.

"Look so pretty, baby," Joel says. His voice is gravely, broken in his throat. You manage to take almost all of him and you swallow, just once. Your reward is your name spilling from his mouth in a groan.

It's messy. Spit beads at the corner of your mouth and drips a little as you work him, breathing through your nose when you take him all the way. So good, takin' all of me, keep goin'.

Joel has clearly forgotten your directive as he winds one hand in your hair and pulls just a little, just enough to make you moan around him. You don't scold him for it, instead keeping your eyes on his face. His head is tipped back just a little, lips parted at he gazes down at you. His other arm is stretched along the length of the couch, his fingers digging into the fabric as you bob on his cock.

You know he's close. You can feel how he's trying hard to keep his hips down, trying not to fuck your throat cause usually he asks first. So it's only a little surprising when he pulls you off him, eyes a little glazed and some color high on his cheeks.

He wipes spit from the corner of your mouth with the pad of his thumb. "Why don't you c'mere?" he says. "Let me fill you up."

"Joel." This was supposed to be about making him feel good. You know even if he comes in your mouth he'll ask you let him touch you, so frankly you don't mind if he fucks you or not.

He smirks, presses his fingers into the side of your neck a little. You swallow so he can feel it. "We both know you can take it," he drawls, eyes dark. "Always gets you goin', my cock in your mouth."

You can feel the heat between your legs, the arousal pooling in your gut. He's right but he's also an asshole. "You're annoying," you tell him.

"So is that a no?"

You drag the flat of your tongue up his shaft one last time as punishment before standing, using his knees as leverage to get off your own. He shucks off his jeans the rest of the way as you drag down your pants, letting them pool with your underwear at your feet before stepping out. Joel holds out a hand for you to balance on and you take it, putting your other on his shoulder.

"Feels softer already," you mutter. Joel snickers and you straddle him. He uses one hand to drag his fingers through your cunt and you fail to swallow a gasp.

"Well, look at that," he says. "I was right." He pushes two fingers into you and they go easily, your hips jerking as he pumps them in and out once, twice, and then you're empty again.

"Smug bastard," you manage. He brings his hand to his mouth and takes a long lick before surging forward to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you even wetter.

Joel licks into your mouth and you kiss him back sloppily, desperately, in the way you know he likes. You're so busy with that hands on his face, his beard scratching your skin deliciously, that you don't notice what else he's doing. His hand presses into the bare skin of your back under your shirt and you lift up a little on instinct and then --

The head of his cock nudges at your entrance and his hand presses again and you meet the movement of his hips with your own and he fills you with just one stroke.

You moan in unison, Joel's arm wrapping around your back as you curl yours around his neck, mouths not so much pressed together as hovering as you pant, as you adjust. Even with how wet you are Joel is a stretch, a welcome one, but a stretch regardless. You shift your hips, roll them back and forth a little.

"Go on, then," you tell him. "Fuck me."

He laughs.

His lips leave yours and trail down your chin, sucking spots onto your neck and on that spot that makes you keen as he does what you ask. He goes slow at first, letting you meet him thrust for thrust. One hand snakes up your shirt, thumbs at your nipple when he finds no bra in the way. You wing your fingers in his hair and tug, tug until he picks up the pace, until all you can hear is the smack of his flesh against yours.

"Joel -- Joel -- right there --"

"M'not gonna -- I -- fuck --"

"Said you were gonna fill me up, didn't you?" you pant, managing to find a bit of cheek in the haze of your fucking. "C'mon, Miller. Don't keep a lady wait--"

His hips pick up the pace, his hands pressing into you hard enough to bruise. You give up trying to tease him and hang on for dear life, managing to snake a hand between your legs to rub at your clit as he pounds into you. The only thing you can say is his name over and over as you feel the hook pull taught, feel the head of his cock brush against and then pound that spot that makes your vision blur.

Joel comes just before you do, his thrusts stuttering and his name on your lips. You feel it, the heat inside you and it's enough to send you over the edge, your cunt squeezing him as he empties inside you.

You press your forehead to his and catch your breath. He palms your neck, your jaw, slides his thumb lazily under your eye and kisses the corner of your mouth.

"Hell of a salve," he manages.

You slot your lips over his. "Wear your damn gloves." Joel laughs and it shifts him inside you. Even softening it makes you both hiss a little. "Just gimme a second."

His hand drags up and down your back, pressing into your spine. "Take your time," he says. "M'clearly not goin' anywhere."

"You never stop, do you?"

Joel kisses you again. "'fraid not."

You laugh into his neck. "Good."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[artsekey]

Disney's Wish

Look, Disney's Wish has been universally panned across the internet, and for good reason.

It’s just…kind of okay.

 When we sit down to watch a Disney film—you know, from the company that dominated the animation industry from 1989 to (arguably) the mid 2010’s and defined the medium of animation for decades—we expect something magnificent. Now, I could sit here and tell you everything that I thought was wrong with Wish, but if you’re reading this review, then I imagine that you’ve already heard the most popular gripes from other users across the web. So, let me focus in:

The biggest problem with Wish—in fact, the only problem with Wish—is Magnifico.

Whoa, that’s crazy! There’re so many things about Wish that could’ve been better! The original concept was stronger! The music was bad--

I hear you, I do. But stay with me here, okay? Take my hand. I studied under artists from the Disney renaissance. I teach an adapted model of Disney’s story pipeline at a University level. I spent a ridiculous amount of time getting degrees in this, and I am about to dissect this character and the narrative to a stupid degree.

First, we need to understand that a good story doesn’t start and end with what we see on the screen. Characters aren’t just fictional people; when used well, characters are tools the author uses (or in this case, the director) to convey their message to the audience. Each character’s struggle should in some way engage with the story’s message, and consequently, the story’s theme. Similarly, when we look at our protagonist and our antagonist, we should see their characters and their journeys reflected in one-another.

So, what went wrong between Asha & Magnifico in terms of narrative structure?

Act I

In Wish, we’re introduced to our hero not long into the runtime—Asha. She’s ambitious, caring, and community-oriented; in fact, Asha is truly introduced to the audience through her love of Rosas (in “Welcome to Rosas”).  She’s surrounded by a colorful cast of friends who act as servants in the palace, furthering her connection with the idea of community but also telling us that she’s not of status, and then she makes her way to meet Magnifico for her chance to become his next apprentice.

Quick aside: I'm not going to harp on Asha as a character in the context of Disney's overall canon. Almost every review I've seen covers her as a new addition to Disney's ever-growing repertoire of "Cute Quirky Heroines", and I think to be fair to Asha as an actor in the narrative, it serves her best to be weighed within the context of the story she's part of.

As Asha heads upstairs for her interview, we're introduced to the man of the hour: Magnifico. He lives in a tower high above the population of Rosas, immediately showing us how he differs from Asha; he’s disconnected from his community. He lives above them. He has status. While the broader context of the narrative wants us to believe that this also represents a sense of superiority, I would argue that isn’t what Magnifico’s introduction conveys; he's isolated.

Despite this distance, he does connect with Asha in “At All Costs”. For a moment, their goals and values align. In fact, they align so well that Magnifico sees Asha as someone who cares as much about Rosas as he does, and almost offers her the position.

… Until she asks him to grant Saba’s wish.

This is framed by the narrative as a misstep. The resonance between their ideals snaps immediately, and Magnifico says something along the line of “Wow. Most people wait at least a year before asking for something.”

This disappointment isn't played as coming from a place of power or superiority. He was excited by the idea of working with someone who had the same values as he did, who viewed Rosas in the same way he does, and then learns that Asha’s motivations at least partially stem from a place of personal gain.

Well, wait, is that really Asha's goal?

While it's not wholistically her goal, it's very explicitly stated & implied that getting Saba's wish granted is at least a part of it. The audience learns (through Asha's conversation with her friends before the interview) that every apprentice Magnifico has ever had gets not only their wish granted, but the wishes of their family, too!  Asha doesn’t deny that this is a perk that she’s interested in, and I don't think this is a bad thing.

So, Is Asha’s commitment to Saba selfless, or selfish? I’m sure the director wanted it to seem selfless, wherein she believes her family member has waited long enough and deserves his wish granted, but we can’t ignore the broader context of Asha essentially trying to… skip the line.

Then, we get our first point of tension. Magnifico reveals his “true colors” in snapping at Asha, telling her that he “decides what people deserve”. This is supposed to be the great motivator, it’s meant to incite anger in the audience—after all, no one gets to decide what you deserve, right? But unfortunately for the integrity of the film and the audience's suspension of disbelief, at least part of Magnifico’s argument is a little too sound to ignore:

Some wishes are too vague and dangerous to grant. Now, there’s visual irony here; he says this after looking at a 100 old man playing the lute. The idea that something so innocuous could be dangerous is absurd, and the audience is meant to agree.

... But we’ve also seen plenty of other wishes that might be chaotic—flying on a rocket to space, anyone? The use of the word vague is important, too—this implies wording matters, and that a wish can be misinterpreted or evolve into something that is dangerous even if the original intent was innocuous. His reasoning for people forgetting their wish (protecting them from the sadness of being unable to attain their dreams) is much weaker, but still justifiable (in the way an antagonist’s flawed views can be justified). The film even introduces a facet of Magnifico’s backstory that implies he has personal experience with the grief of losing a dream (in the destruction of his home), but that thread is never touched on again.

              What is the audience supposed to take from this encounter? If we’re looking at the director’s intent, I’d argue that we’ve been introduced to a well-meaning young girl and a king who’s locked away everyone’s greatest aspiration because he believes he deserves to have the power to decide who gets to be happy.

              But what are we shown? Our heroine, backed by her friends, strives to be Magnifico’s apprentice because she loves the city but also would really like to see her family's wishes granted. When this request is denied and she loses the opportunity to be his apprentice, she deems Magnifico’s judgement unfair & thus begins her journey to free the dreams of Rosas’ people.

              In fairness, Magnifico doesn’t exhibit sound judgement or kindness through this act of the film. He’s shown to be fickle, and once his composure cracks, he can be vindictive and sharp. He's not a good guy, but I'd argue he's not outright evil. He's just got the makings of a good villain, and those spikes of volatility do give us a foundation to work off of as he spirals, but as we’ll discuss in a bit, the foreshadowing established here isn’t used to the ends it implies.

              While I was watching this film, I was sure Magnifico was going to be a redeemable villain. He can’t connect with people because he's sure they value what he provides more than they value him (as seen in “At All Costs” and the aftermath), and Asha’s asking for more was going to be framed as a mistake. His flaw was keeping his people too safe and never giving them the chance to sink or swim, and he's too far removed from his citizens to see that he is appreciated. Asha does identify this, and the culmination of her journey is giving people the right to choose their path, but the way Magnifico becomes the “true” villain and his motivations for doing so are strangely divorced from what we’re shown in Act I.  

Act II:

His song, “This is the Thanks I Get!?” furthers the idea that Magnifico’s ire—and tipping point—is the fact that he thinks the people he’s built a kingdom for still want more. Over the course of this 3:14 song, we suddenly learn that Magnifico sends other people to help his community and doesn’t personally get involved (we never see this outside of this song), and that he’s incredibly vain/narcissistic (he's definitely a narcissist). I think feeling under-appreciated is actually a very strong motivation for Magnifico as a character-turning-villain, and it works very well. It’s justified based on what we’ve seen on screen so far: he feels under-appreciated (even though he’s decidedly not—the town adores him), he snaps and acts irrationally under stress (as seen with his outburst with Asha), and he’s frustrated that people seem to want more from him (again, as seen with his conversation with Asha in Act I).

              But then… he opens the book.

Ah, the book. As an object on screen, we know that it's filled with ancient and evil magic, well-known to be cursed by every relevant character in the film, and kept well-secured under lock and key. But what does it stand for in the context of the narrative's structure? A quick path to power? We're never told that it has any redeeming qualities; Magnifico himself doesn't seem to know what he's looking for when he opens it. It feels... convenient.

I think it's also worth noting that he only turns to the book when he's alone; once again, the idea of connection and community rears it's ugly head! Earlier in the film, Amaya-- his wife-- is present and turns him away from taking that path. In her absence, he makes the wrong choice.

This decision could make sense; it contains powerful magic, and if it were framed in such a way that the people of Rosas were losing faith in Magnifico’s magic, as if what he can do might not be enough anymore after what they felt from Star, going for the book that we know contains spells that go above and beyond what he can already do would be logical. Along the lines of, “If they’re not happy with what I do for them, fine. I, ever the “martyr”, will do the unthinkable for you, because you want more.”

            It would keeps with the idea that Magnifico believes he's still trying to help people, but his motivation has taken his self-imposed pity party and turned it into resentment and spite.

 But, that’s not the case. Instead he talks about reversing that “light”, which has had no real negative or tangible consequences on Rosas. Everyone had a warm feeling for a few seconds. Again, it’s meant to paint him as a vain control freak, but… he hasn’t lost any power. The citizens of Rosas even assume the great showing of magic was Magnifico.

Act III

              Then, we get to the consequences of opening the book (and perhaps my biggest qualm with this film). The book is established as being cursed. Magnifico knows it, Asha knows it, and Amaya—who is introduced as loyal-- knows it. The characters understand his behavior is a direct result of the book, and search for a way to save him. This is only the focus of the film for a few seconds, but if you think about it, the fact that his own wife cannot find a way to free him of the curse he’s been put under is unbelievably tragic. Worse still, upon discovering there is no way to reverse the curse, Magnifico—the king who built the city & “protected it” in his own flawed way for what seems to be centuries—is thrown out by his wife. You know, the wife who's stood loyal at his side for years?

              It’s played for laughs, but there’s something unsettling about a character who’s clearly and explicitly under the influence of a malevolent entity being left… unsaved. If you follow the idea of Magnifico being disconnected from community being a driving force behind his arc, the end of the film sees him in a worse situation he was in at the start: truly, fully alone.

              They bring in so many opportunities for Magnifico to be sympathetic and act as a foil for Asha; he’s jaded, she’s not. He’s overly cautious (even paranoid), she’s a risk-taker. He turns to power/magic at his lowest point, Asha turns to her friends at her lowest point. Because this dichotomy isn’t present, and Magnifico—who should be redeemable—isn’t, the film is so much weaker than it could’ve been. The lack of a strong core dynamic between the protagonist and antagonist echoes through every facet of the film from the music to the characterization to the pacing, and I believe if Magnifico had been more consistent, the film would’ve greatly improved across the board.

I mean, come on! Imagine if at the end of the film, Asha—who, if you remember, did resonate with Magnifico’s values at the start of the film—recognizes that he's twisted his original ideals and urges him to see the value in the people he’s helped, in their ingenuity, in their gratitude, & that what he was able to do before was enough. Going further, asking what his wish is or was—likely something he’s never been asked— and showing empathy! We’d come full circle to the start of the film where Asha asks him to grant her wish.

Pushing that further, if Magnifico’s wish is to see Rosas flourish or to be a good/beloved king, he'd have the the opportunity to see the value in failing and how pursuing the dream is its own complex and valuable journey, and how not even he is perfect.

 The curse and the book (which, for the purposes of this adjustment, would need to be established as representing the idea of stepping on others to further your own goals/the fast way to success), then serve as the final antagonist, that same curse taking root in the people of Rosas who’ve had their dreams destroyed, and Asha works with the community to quell it. Asha’s learned her lesson, so has Magnifico, and the true source of evil in the film—the book—is handled independently. Magnifico steps back from his role as King, Amaya still ends up as Queen, and Asha takes her place as the new wish-granter.

This route could even give us the true “Disney villain” everyone’s craving; giving the book sentience and having it lure Magnifico in during “This is the Thanks I Get!?” leaves it as its own chaotic evil entity.

All in all, Magnifico's introduction paved a road to redemption that the rest of the film aggressively refused to deliver on, instead doubling down on weaker motivations that seem to appear out of thin air. Once the audience thinks, hey, that bad guy might have a point, the protagonist has to do a little more heavy lifting to convince us they're wrong.

Look at the big-bad-greats from Disney's library. There isn't a point in the Lion King where we pause and think, "Wait a second, maybe Scar should be the guy who rules the Pridelands." Ursula from the Little Mermaid, though motivated by her banishment from King Triton's Seas, never seems to be the right gal for the throne. Maybe Maleficent doesn't get invited to the princess's birthday party, but we don't watch her curse a baby and think, Yeah, go curse that baby, that's a reasonable response to getting left out.

What do they all have in common? Their motivation is simple, their goal is clear, and they don't care who they hurt in pursuit of what they want.

Magnifico simply doesn't fall into that category. He's motivated by the idea of losing power, which is never a clear or impactful threat. His goal at the start seems to be to protect Rosas, then it turns into protecting his own power, and then-- once he's corrupted-- he wants to capture Star. The problem is, there's no objective to put this power toward. Power for power's sake is useless. Scar craves power because he feels robbed of status. Ursula believes the throne is rightfully hers. Maleficent wanted to make a statement. Magnifico... well, I'm not really sure.

[luveline]

hiii could I please request miguel walking in on reader crying in secret?? ty!! :)))

thank you for requesting! fem!reader, 1.2k

It takes Miguel half an hour to fix your spider suit, but when he picks his head up from his work desk with a brag waiting on his lips, you aren’t there. He hadn’t noticed you slinking away. Perhaps he should’ve, given his fantastic sixth sense and his habit of awarding you special attention, just you’re quiet when you want to be. 

He sends you a short message through his wristwatch. Where are you? delivered 7:58PM. 

No response. Miguel folds your suit into a square and holds it under his arm, flicking off his workbench light as he rolls his neck from one side to the other. He wanted to finish the repairs before nightfall so as not to disrupt your routine. He quite likes your routine together. In a stressful life, time spent with you is peace he doesn’t deserve. You aren’t a peaceful girl, of course, you’re his idiot, but he knows the stark difference of having you versus not having you. 

He can’t track you without your suit on and your watch doesn’t have that capability, but he can ping your phone. 

You’re in the building still, at least. 

He texts you. Where did you go? I fixed your suit. It’s dinner time soon. 

Loosely translated, it means, Why did you leave? We always eat dinner together. 

Miguel sighs and decides to check the most obvious places first. The alcove of the hallway leading to the laboratory where you like to hide, the arts lounge, the atrium where your friends hang out, and the outdoor area right at the surface of the society. By 8:30PM he’s agitated wondering where you’ve gone, because he should probably know, but he’s not a great boyfriend and you’re not always as honest as you claim. You could be anywhere. You could be with someone nicer. 

He’s pissed. With no choice but to admit defeat, he decides he’ll head up to bed (he’s not going to bed, he’s gonna find you, because you can go wherever you like whenever you like but it’s been a long time since you disappeared without telling him). He cares about you too much, even if he wishes sometimes he didn’t. Not because of you. 

He sulks into the apartment (his apartment, your apartment, you were never supposed to live with him but here you tend to stay), throwing his phone and command pod onto the made sheets of the bed. 

The shower drips in the bathroom. He can hear the plink of water dripping onto the floor, a slow, dysrhythmic pattering. Two seconds, a drop. Three seconds, your breathing. 

He startles. You’re shuddering, a sharp inhalation, that strange sound you make when you’re overwhelmed without being smothered by his shoulder. “Stop,” you say under your breath. Another harsh breath, and a pained whine to follow. 

Miguel has never crossed a room so quickly. For a moment he thinks there must be someone else there, not a fully realised theory but an instinct —you’re telling someone else to stop, because someone is hurting you, because you aren’t alone. But he can hear only your heart, and your breath. So he stops cold by the door without bursting in and forces himself to knock. 

“Mi cielo?” he asks, aiming for tenderness, roughness seeping through. He knocks the door. “I’m coming in, okay?” 

Miguel doesn’t realise the door is locked until he’s cracked the doorframe. 

You stare at him in shock. Tears fall fast but quiet down your cheeks, thick streams of them, the kind to accompany gutted sobbing. 

“What’s wrong?” he says, his chest falling. “What’s wrong? Y/N, tell me. Tell me,” he prompts, secretly terrified at your tears and your quiet. He sounds demanding instead. 

“I’m fine,” you say.

“No you’re not.” He speaks before you can deny it again, not sure what to make of your teary voice or the way you’re smiling; trying to hide. 

“It’s okay–”

“It’s not okay, mi cielo,” —he takes your hand if only to be touching you— “you're crying.” 

“You weren’t supposed to see,” you say, closing your eyes. 

Tears squeeze their way out unbidden. Miguel reaches to his right for the toilet paper and pulls off a few sheets, bundling them in his palm. Careful, hesitant, he brings the corner to your face and begins to dry your tears from your cheeks, your chin, the wet line running down to your t-shirt and then back to your eyes. He shushes you as you shudder, “Shh, lovely. Everything will be fine. Everything… Todo va a estar bien.” 

“It’s fine,” you whisper tightly. 

“It’s fine,” he echoes, much more kindly, though he’s no closer to understanding why you’d locked yourself away to cry so intensely. “Tell me what’s wrong, yes? You tell me what’s upset you.” 

“It’s nothing–”

You try to persuade him but end up sounding even more upset than you had, shaking your head from his touch, receding backward toward the sink. 

“Why won’t you talk to me?” he asks gently. 

“It’s so stupid, Miguel, you weren’t supposed to know.” 

He’d say it was unlike you to be secretive with your feelings. You love loudly, tease louder. You’re spirited and petulant when you feel like it and you’re constantly barraging him with cheerfulness he doesn’t deserve, so why doesn’t your unwillingness to share this with him surprise him? 

“But I know now,” he says, bending to be your height, to meet your tired eyes, “and I want to know what’s wrong so I can make you feel better. Can you let me do that?” 

“I don’t feel very well.” 

Miguel can only handle so much. He uses some of his added strength to wrap you up in a full body hug, your toes struggling to stay on tiptoes and then completely off the ground as he leans back under your weight. “I know,” he says, though he hadn’t, “it’s okay, cariño, I’m here. I’m gonna take care of you.” 

You’re all softness in your off-duty clothes. The rolled neck of a worn t-shirt, your naked arm curling behind his neck and your thighs to his. He doesn’t keep you up for more than a few seconds, just enough to take your weight and hopefully save you the energy it’s taking to stay upright. You sag against him as your socks touch down again. He’s the one thing keeping you standing, and he doesn’t mind. You should know that already. 

“Please,” he says emphatically, “don’t cry by yourself. You have to let me know.” 

“Sorry.” 

He moves his head from one side to another slowly, his nose rubbing along your hairline. “Don’t be sorry. But if I don’t know, how am I supposed to fix it for you?” 

“You shouldn’t have to.” 

“Are you kidding?” He encourages your head back tenderly to meet your eyes. “That’s what we do, hmm? What do you think?” 

You smile. Still sad, still watery-eyed, but a real smile. “Yeah.” 

“Alright. Let’s go sit down, okay? I’ll get you a drink.” 

“So weird,” you murmur. 

“I’m weird?” 

“You’re being really nice to me.” 

Miguel squeezes your arm. “Don’t get used to it, Spider-Girl.”