#people in so many ways. sometimes you'll be in denial about it or the way you loved them will feel gross or demeaning or small in hindsight

[winepresswrath]

Darla/Angelus is also great because the show has a competing designated OTP and they exist to serve as contrast and hateful competition to THE ship. they are soulless monsters even by the standards of soulless monsters, they literally make the other soulless monsters go "yikes... your relationship seems not good maybe." but they love each other so fucking much. the writers can't help it. they are constantly trying to find their way back to each other. the way she hits him over a head with a shovel and leaves him to an angry mob while he tries to say he doesn't mind dying if it's with her AND the way they coo about it to each other afterwards. the way she takes him back against her better judgement because she missed him so so much but then kicks him out again later because he still can't be who she needs him to be. that's just how they say i love you.

[wheresarizona]

but I would die for you in secret

summary: The relationship you have with Joel Miller is… complicated, and you’re not entirely sure what to even call it. There’s the fact no one can know, so his kid doesn’t find out, and you’re pretty sure he’s ashamed of your age difference—he’s not your boyfriend, but you only fuck each other; this thing started months ago, and Joel does not like it when men give you attention, because he wants you all to himself. But again, he’s not your sexy, older boyfriend.

pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, porn with some plot, explicit smut, Possessive Joel Miller, Joel being a lil dominant, age gap (unspecified, reader is an adult), secret relationship, sneaking around, accidental voyeurism, edging, orgasm denial, mutual masturbation, dirty talk (so much), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), rough sex, explicit consent, creampie, spanking, spit as lube, love confession, Good Parent Joel Miller, Ellie giving Joel so much shit, TLOU AU where Joel doesn’t lie to Ellie and they’re good when they get back to Jackson)

word count: 7.1k+

a/n: Hey! I needed a break from my long fic that I’ve been writing nonstop for five months, and I was really missing Joel and Ellie, so here we are. I hope you enjoy! Thank you to @juletheghoul for betaing!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Masterlist - One Shot

The relationship you have with Joel Miller is… complicated.

To start with, there’s the age difference. It doesn’t bother you at all, and why should it? You’re both consenting adults who know what they want, but he’s got this idea in his head that he shouldn’t be chasing someone so much younger than him and that you should be with somebody your own age—he mentions this almost every single time you’re alone together, and you've learned a simple flash of your tits or a sudden kiss will make those thoughts disappear.

Then there's the fact he isn't your boyfriend, yet you only fuck each other. His days are spent working whatever job he’s assigned here in Jackson and he’s at your place most nights after his daughter goes to bed—however, that’s a secret; No one can know about you two, even though Joel’s a tiny bit possessive and doesn't take kindly to other men giving you attention; which you're not one to judge because you can't stand when women flirt with him, especially Sandra, his next-door neighbor who won't leave him the fuck alone after the many times he’s told her he’s not interested.

So, again, he's not your boyfriend, but neither of you wants to fuck anyone else; whatever this thing is between you has been going on for over eight months, and he doesn’t want people to know you’re together—yet, any time he catches a man being too friendly with you, there's a 100% chance a grumpier than usual Joel will show up at your house that night, and at some point, while he’s fucking your brains out, he'll let a 'Mine' slip out.

Clearly, you have some kind of relationship with him, and it borders somewhere between fuck buddies and him being your boyfriend; where it gets confusing is it's not all sex with him. If his kid is staying over at a friend's, he'll show up at yours earlier than normal, and usually, with a movie he hadn't seen since the world ended or a record he thought you'd enjoy that you both listen to all the way through for him to tell you facts and anecdotes that he could possibly be the only person on the entire planet who knows.

If you need anything fixed around your house, he'll do it, and sometimes you don't even have to ask. You'll mention something, and the next thing you know, he's at your front door with a toolbox—sometimes, he uses doing repairs as a ruse so people will see him arriving at your place with his tools when, in actuality, he’s there to spend the day with you.

You’re also probably the only person, unrelated to him, he has actual conversations with; there’s hardly any grumbling or muttering.

There is a reason he won't acknowledge you’re dating, and it's his sixteen-year-old daughter whom he doesn't want to know he has a love life—it's to where Joel's basically taken the role of the rebellious teenager, sneaking out of his own home in the middle of the night to ensure she's unaware he left.

It's an accumulation of factors why she can't know. The big two, you think, are your age, and you know for sure he doesn't want Ellie to think she'll be any less important to him or that he's abandoning her if he's seeing someone—he worries she won’t take it well, and from what you know she's been through, you can understand why he’s being so protective.

Do you wish you could openly be in a relationship with Joel? Sure, it'd make you happy to shove it in Sandra, his stupid neighbor's face that he's taken.

That isn't a possibility, though, and honestly, what the two of you have is good, so you're not going to make a fuss about labels.

It's been a few nights since Joel has snuck over to your place, and you know why he hasn't stopped by—Ellie—she's sick with a cold, and to put things mildly, her father is freaking the fuck out that it could turn into something worse, and he won't let her out of his sight.

Now, if a person didn't want their child to know they were dating anyone, they’d keep them separated, right? Well, you live across the street from them—that's how you met Joel; he saw someone had moved into the tiny one-bedroom, one-bath home across from his and came over to introduce himself—and since you live across the way from him, and Ellie, the two of you have this, 'Just being a good neighbor,’ act, where any interactions you have in public, are under the guise that you’re just friendly neighbors. So, Ellie has spoken to you many times and has even invited you to hang out and eat meals with them at their house or in the mess hall, where Joel always does his damndest to act indifferent.

Joel left a simple note three days ago stating Ellie was feeling under the weather on your front door. The next day, you stopped by, as the good neighbor you are, to drop off some chicken soup you convinced the kitchen at the mess hall to make. Joel had let you in with a ‘Thanks’ and took the large bowl from you to the kitchen, and you followed the sounds of sniffles to the living room, where you found the teenager wrapped in a blanket on the couch, her stuffed-up voice exclaiming when she saw you in relief you were there so she’d have someone other than her dad to look at or talk to; obviously, she was tired of him, and with how he was hovering, and fussing over her like a mother hen, you would’ve been tired of him, too.

The man had bags under his worried eyes and looked like he hadn’t slept since she’d gotten sick. After he served her some soup and saw she was eating it, Ellie and you convinced him to take a nap while you hung out with his kid—the kid you’ve had a suspicion for a while knows there’s something up between you and her father, simply because every time the two of you are alone, she grills you about your love life.

The thing is, she always fishes for information you won’t give her, but she never seems bothered by the prospect of Joel dating; frankly, she’s supportive and wants him to be happy. However, that wasn’t something you could tell him because he’d probably end things with you immediately, so you’d have to wait for them to eventually have a heart-to-heart for him to find out—which, you’re not holding your breath with how bad they both are at talking to each other about their feelings.

And now it’s been over three days since you last got laid, and after having great sex regularly, the horniness is hitting you hard tonight, and you need to come.

It might be the dead of winter, but you’ve pushed the blankets to the end of your queen-sized bed, the old sheets not as soft as you imagined they’d once been when they were new, your bare, heated skin pressing into them. You’re lying in the middle of the mattress, your head cushioned by a pillow that’d lost its firmness long ago, your naked legs spread while your fingers rub at your swollen clit just right, the others pinching at your pebbled nipple to have the pleasure welling up inside you. You’ve been biting your bottom lip so much it’s sore, your breaths panting from your lungs, the wood stove in the living room keeping your house warm, and that, combined with your arousal, has a thin layer of sweat coating your body.

Sure, you can get yourself off, but the orgasm will be nowhere near as good as what Joel coaxes from you; it’ll take the edge off, at least, so you’ll feel a little better.

For the last hour, you’ve been building yourself up, almost hitting your peak, and stopping, edging yourself over and over again to try to make yourself come as hard as you can by your own hand to assuage some of your need—the sheets are wet under your ass where you’ve dripped onto them.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, thinking about that one night Joel saw some guy about your age at the bar laying it on thick to get you to leave with him, and how after you turned him down and left, a familiar presence followed you along the dark streets. You had to keep quiet when those big, gun-calloused hands you knew all too well pulled you into the stable that had nobody in it except the horses—Joel fucked you from behind against a wall, having to brace yourself with your arms on it. You remembered his palm over your mouth to muffle your sounds and him blanketing himself over your back to have his lips at your ear while he pounded into you hard and fast, quietly grunting about how you were his and that no one could make you feel as good as he did. There was no forgetting how his cock stretched open your cunt, or how before he sheathed himself inside you, you heard him spit on his fingers to slick himself up; the way he made you come around him while he circled your clit with those same digits. The memory of how he’d worked himself up so much he’d forgotten to pull out and spilled deep in your pussy, has you so close to coming by your hand you moan loudly, “Joel.”

“Stop,” the familiar gruff voice makes your eyes snap open as you gasp, immediately sitting up on your elbows.

There at the foot of the bed is the man on your mind—he must’ve taken off his winter jacket in the living room—his green flannel shirt is gaping from most of the buttons being undone, revealing his chest, his grey waves of hair looking to be slightly damp from melted snowflakes. What steals your attention is the fact his jeans are unbuttoned and open, and he’s slowly stroking his hard dick; from how the tip is angry red, leaking precum, and his shaft shines, he’s been watching and jerking off for some time.

“Joel,” his name comes out as a whisper, and your eyes flick up to his, finding them dark and staring hungrily between your legs at your glistening cunt.

You’re so happy to see him you’re not even mad he ruined your orgasm, knowing he’ll make it up to you.

“How many times have you made yourself come while I’ve been busy?” he asks, finally meeting your gaze, his expression grumpy.

“No-none,” you stammer.

His eyebrow lifts. “You lyin’ to me, sweetheart?”

“No.” You shook your head. “Are you mad at me…?”

His face pinches in confusion. “What? No. I’m not mad at you, baby. I’m mad at myself for leavin’ you hangin’.” He undoes the last two buttons on his shirt and shrugs it off for it to fall to the floor, pushing down his pants to step out of them, now standing before you completely naked.

His body is a tapestry of littered scars that tell of his fight to survive this long, some from injuries you’re sure should’ve killed him. Yet, somehow, if by spite or the grace of God, he managed to stay alive—your fingers have traced many of them, mapping the silvery and pink lines in the quiet of the night with only the glow of a bedside lamp. With what people have to do in order to keep living these days, they rarely like to share the stories behind their close calls to death. Still, there’s a jagged scar low on the right side of his stomach lesser men would have died from, you noticed the first time he took his shirt off, and you always wanted to know the story of. Surprisingly, he told you how he got it a few months into this not-not relationship when you asked.

Excitement pools in your belly, your pussy throbbing needily, watching as he climbs onto the bed to kneel in front of you, between your legs, down by your ankles.

“Touch yourself,” he orders and takes himself in hand again, languidly pumping his cock. “I wanna watch you make yourself come; then I’m gonna show you how I’m better than everyone, includin’ you, at gettin’ you off.”

Your cunt clenches because he is better, and the promise has you doing as he said, sliding your hand down to the apex of your thighs to rub your clit the way you like while you watch him fist his shaft. This isn’t the first time he’s watched you touch yourself, and you’re sure if it was anyone else, you’d feel embarrassed, but with how the desire is clear as he stares at what you’re doing, it spurs you on.

Having been so close to coming when he told you to stop, and now, it’s turning you on so much that he’s jacking off to what you’re doing, all of it is building you back up quickly, the familiar heat growing at the base of your spine.

“Just like that, baby,” he rasps and wets his bottom lip. “Keep rubbin’ that pretty pussy—did you miss me?”

“Yes.”

He hums in the back of his throat. “Missed how good I make you feel—how I stretch open that perfect cunt with my cock? Do I fuck you so good, you were thinkin’ about me to make yourself come?”

The strokes of his hand sound wetter, your arousal drooling onto the bedding while the muscles in your belly begin to tighten.

“Yes,” you gasp.

“That’s right, you were. So fuckin’ pretty spread out like this for me—I wanna taste you, shove my face in your pussy, and drown in it; just look at how you’re drippin’ for me.”

“Joel,” you moan. You’re so close it’s not going to take much more.

“God, I fuckin’ missed that sound; I missed hearin’ your voice and how good you smell, how soft your skin is, and the few hours I get to sleep next to you—come for me, baby. Come all over your fingers, and I’ll give you my dick—I’ll make those gorgeous eyes roll back in your head and give it to you so good, I ruin you for anyone else.”

He’s already ruined you for anyone else, and you doubt there’s another who’d fuck you as good as him.

It’s the thought that he’s yours and no one else can have him like this that sends you over the edge, your body seizing up as you come, pleasure erupting from your center as you moan his name.

He doesn’t give you a chance to recover, batting away your hand to dive in and bury his face in your wet heat. He shoves his tongue inside your soaked hole, groaning loudly as he laps at your come, your body trembling when he drags the flat of it up through your folds to suck your clit between his lips. Your fingers press into his hair, soft sounds leaving your throat at how good it feels.

The one orgasm isn’t enough—you need more, his mouth igniting arousal to burn hot in your belly, making you feel achingly empty. He’s licking up every bit of your need, coating your sex, moving to flick his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re feeling greedy; what he’s doing isn’t enough, and you want, no, need him inside you.

You pull at his hair as you tell him in a somewhat whiny tone, “Fuck me, Joel—stop making me wait.”

His chuckle vibrates into your sensitive skin before he rises to kneel with a groan. “Impatient.” He smacks your thigh. “Flip, ass up.” And it’s not a suggestion, his hands on your waist helping you to roll over, pulling your backside up into the air while your torso is against the sheets. Your knees are sinking into the bed and spread a little, putting yourself on display for him, the mattress jostling when he shuffles forward, feeling his body heat behind you. His palm lands on your asscheek hard, the sharp sting making you moan. “Now, ask me nicely to fuck you.”

You should’ve known he wouldn’t care for your lack of manners.

Your head is resting on your crossed arms in front of you.

“Joel, will you please fuck me?” you ask as sweetly as possible.

“Yes.”

The sound of him spitting on his fingers meets your ears, and you know he’s slicking himself up. One of his hands holds your hip, the other guiding his cock through the lips of your pussy to wet it even more, nudging your clit—it doesn’t seem like he’s in a mood to tease too much. Your eyes slip shut when he notches himself at your entrance and starts slowly feeding himself into you, your tight, velvety walls expanding to take the considerable girth of him, whining as he fills you. He slides all the way home, your cunt throbbing around him.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he groans. “Is this what your needy little pussy wanted?”

“Yes,” you moan.

He’s as deep as he can go and pulls out until just the tip remains, and slams back into you hard enough to knock the air from your lungs—oh, this is going to be one of those times where he fucks you to the point your legs are too shaky to walk on afterward. The pace he sets is deliciously brutal and has your eyes rolling back, all thoughts leaving your brain, unable to think with how he’s pressing into so many heavenly spots, his grip tight on your waist.

The sounds in the room are obscene—the springs beneath you are squeaking, and there’s the noisy slap of his hips colliding with your ass, Joel grunting with each dull smack of his skin to yours, while you gasp out moans.

He’s fucking you so good, your orgasm is already taking shape, its fiery tendrils tightening in your core with each stroke.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he says through gritted teeth. “You’re so fuckin’ wet—I could live in this perfect pussy.”

His hand slaps your ass hard enough the crack echoes amongst the four walls, the sweet pain making you clench around him and press back into his thrusts, crying out his name.

“Does it feel good, baby?” he asks. “Did you miss getting fucked like this? You love this—this pussy is mine, isn’t it? You’re mine.”

He’s not wrong; you are his, and all you can do is mewl in reply, waves of your arousal seeping down his shaft to catch on his balls.

His gun-calloused hands adjust on your hips to get a better grip, pulling you back each time his dick impales you, fucking you harder and faster, hearing him panting behind you—the wet sounds of him working himself in and out of your drenched cunt, are loud, and lewd.

You’re so close; you’re just needing—

Joel leans forward to get his hand under your body to the swollen pearl of your clit, circling it how he knows you like it.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he grits out. “Let me have it—soak my cock with your come. Let me feel you—I know you’re almost there.”

That’s it—the knot in your belly winds tighter and tighter until the tension snaps, and you fall over the edge with a silent cry, your pussy clamping down on him hard enough that it slows his rhythm almost to a stop. Joel groans loudly while euphoria explodes out from your center, feeling it spread to your fingers and toes. Your brain goes blissfully blank, and your legs tremble under you like a leaf in the wind.

A gasp leaves you when he suddenly pulls out and flips you onto your back, taking his place between your spread thighs. He puts your legs high on his ribs, holding his weight on one arm while his other hand sheaths himself back inside you.

It’s not surprising that you’ve found yourself under his hulking frame with his hips snapping in and out of you—when you open your eyes, his are closed, his expression looking pained, and it’s his broad shoulders and head that take up your vision. This is how Joel wanted to fuck you from the start, but he’s a gentleman and did your preferred position first.

Your fingernails end up digging into the skin of his shoulder blades for something to hold on to, and he kisses over your chest to duck his head, wrapping his lips around a stiff nipple and sucking on it, the shock of pleasure causing a moan to slip from your throat. His breaths are heavy, and you know he won’t last much longer.

Your voice is hoarse when you speak, telling him what you know he needs to hear, “I missed you, Joel.” He whines. “I want you to come for me.”

His mouth leaves your breast to crash against yours, and you’d been wondering how long he’d go without kissing you—something about kissing while he fucks makes him come faster; maybe it’s the intimacy?

He’s told you the last woman he was with back in Boston wouldn’t kiss him because sex between them was just scratching an itch, and she wasn’t looking for anyone to replace her dead husband.

All you know is Joel loves kissing and touching—he’s admitted that he sleeps best with you snuggled against his back as the big spoon, which, you’ll never tell him, you think is adorable with how he scares people enough, they move out of his way when he walks down the street.

His kisses are fervent, and you give just as good as you get, welcoming his tongue when it presses between your lips, his pace speeding up. You love having him inside you, the way he fits all nice and snug to fill you completely. This is what you’ve been needing, and it’s perfect.

When his rhythm gets uneven, you expect him to pull out at any second to spill his release on your belly. What he does next, you’re not expecting.

Joel shoves his face into the crook of your neck, his facial hair scratching your skin, feeling his hot breaths.

He says something that’s too muffled to make out, so you pull on his hair to make him lift his head, finding his eyes dark and glazed over, looking totally and completely wrecked. His pace slows to him rocking in and out of you.

“What did you say?” you ask.

“Can I—” he pants. “Fuck, can I come inside you?”

The question has your tight walls constricting around him.

“Fuck,” Joel hisses, his eyes closing. “Please, can I?” he asks again.

The answer that immediately pops into your brain is ‘yes,’ but thinking about how the only times this man has finished inside you in the past were all accidents, you’re worrying he’s just pussy drunk and not thinking straight; that if you fell pregnant, something you didn’t mind, he’ll regret it.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

He looks at you and nods. “Yes, I know—” The consequences, he leaves unsaid. “—please.”

“Then yes, come for me, Joel—fill me up.”

He raggedly moans, his face falling into your neck again. His thrusts speed up and become frantic as he pounds into you, your heels digging into his ass, feeling the muscles flex. He works himself up until he presses into you one last time as deep as possible and comes with a guttural groan—his dick jerks inside you, and the hot spurts of his spend gush into your depths, filling you up. Electricity zips down your spine as you moan, your tight walls throbbing around him while he grinds his hips, fucking his come deeper.

The weight of his body is welcome when he eventually slumps onto you, and instinctively, your fingers slide into his hair, scratching your nails lovingly against his scalp, the man practically purring on top of you.

For the first time in three days, you feel happy and finally sated, loving how he’s stuffed you full of his cock, and come. There’s no talking as your heartbeats slow together and your breathing evens out, basking in each other’s presence. Your eyes are closed, and you’re choosing to ignore your shaky limbs.

It’s hard to imagine a life without Joel, which is odd since up until this point, most of it had been spent without him, or anyone really. What you actually mean is you don’t want to imagine a life without Joel and Ellie—you think she’s a great kid, and you have a soft spot for her; plus, she and her dad are a package deal. Then there’s Joel, who you’re absolutely and completely in love with, and it bothers you that you don’t know what this relationship between you is or if he even feels the same as you.

Minutes pass, the old, wooden bones of your house creaking as the winter wind gusts outside.

“Joel?” you break the silence.

“Mhmm?” he hums, nuzzling into your throat.

“What are we?”

“Huh?”

“What are we? Like, what is this thing that we’re doing?”

His head lifts, and he pulls out, rolling off you to lie beside you on his back, pressing his hands to his face.

“Somethin’ I shouldn’t be doin’ in the first place,” he finally answers.

You turn on your side toward him, propping your head up on your arm. “Take my age out of the equation.”

His palms lift, and he looks at you confused. “What do you mean?”

“For some fucking reason, you are stuck on my age—take it out of the equation; if that wasn’t a factor, would you openly date me?”

“Well, there’s Ellie—”

“—let’s pretend she doesn’t give a fuck about your love life,” you cut him off, “and actually wants you to be happy, and my age doesn’t matter—would you openly date me?”

“Yes.”

“So, you have feelings for me?”

“Of course.”

“Do you love me…?”

“Yes,” he whispers, covering his face again.

One word has your heart picking up in speed.

“I love you, too.”

His head whips in your direction with an expression of bewilderment.

“What?” he asks.

“I’m in love with you—have been for a while, and I’m fine with doing what we’ve been doing if that’s the only way I can be with you, but I kinda, sorta, would like it if you thought of us as a couple, and weren’t ashamed of me…”

A secret relationship? You’re fine with that. But Joel being ashamed of you? It fucking hurts.

“I’m not ashamed of you,” he says too quickly.

“Joel, if Ellie were okay with you having a love life, you wouldn’t openly date me because of how old I am—I’d just continue being your dirty little secret that one other person knows about.”

His eyes dart away, and the sigh he lets out is long and weary.

“I’m not ashamed of you,” he says. “I’m ashamed of myself for fallin’ for you and not bein’ able to give you the future you deserve. I just felt like I was stringin’ you along when you could be with someone who can offer you more, but I’m so fuckin’ selfish.” He looks at you. “I want you, and I don’t want anyone else to have you—I can’t let you go, even though I should cut you free.”

Your fingers brush back the sweat-soaked hair on his forehead. “I don't want anyone else, Joel—I want you, and you’re not stringing me along. I’m happy with you and any future I can have with you and Ellie.”

He’s frowning. “If only it were that simple,” he sighs.

This is a conversation you thought might make him end things with you, but maybe giving him a slight nudge will be okay—at least, you hope it will.

“It is that simple,” you tell him. “I’m gonna tell you something that if you can work up the nerve to talk to her about, she'll confirm it.”

His eyebrows furrow. “What?”

“Ellie doesn’t care if you date. She’s told me she wishes you weren’t such an asshole ‘cause then the only negative thing about you is how ugly you are, and people love ugly things all the time, and if someone loves you, then you won’t die alone, plus it’d hopefully make you happy, and she really wants you to be happy—that’s pretty much what she said word-for-word.”

His eyes close, and the sigh that leaves him is that of a father who’s real tired of their child’s shit, and you smile.

“That’s Ellie,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m not even sure how I should be feelin’ right now.”

“I hoped you’d be relieved at least, possibly even happy.”

He looks at you. “Yeah, I’m relieved and happy but also a little ticked at her embarrassin’ me like that.”

Scooting closer to him, you lay half on top of him with your arms folded on his chest, resting your chin on them to stare at his pretty face.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It was said out of love—she loves you.”

He sighs again, wrapping his arms around your bare back.

“I guess she does, even if she’s mean. Jesus, I can’t believe I just needed to talk to her sooner.”

“That’s usually how things work—it’s called communication, and you should talk to her.”

His eyes narrowed, and he smacked your ass, making you giggle. “There’s no need for the sass, sweetheart, and I was plannin’ on bitin’ the bullet and tellin’ her about us in the next couple of days.”

Your eyes widened. “You were? What?”

“Yeah, uh, I had a hard time with Ellie bein’ sick, and when you came over, I didn’t feel like I was goin’ insane with worry. Havin’ you there made it better, and I missed you.” His lips dip in a frown.

“I missed you, too—you were really gonna tell her?”

“I was.” He nods. “With how happy she was to see you, I thought maybe she’d be okay with it.” He shrugs.

You smile. “I think you’re right,” you reply, giving him a quick kiss. Meeting his gaze, you ask, “Is she feeling better?”

“Yeah, and thank Christ, she is.” He looks visibly relieved. “I think it was that soup you brought over—thank you for that and for givin’ me a chance to sleep.” He pecks you on the lips.

“It was no problem. I would’ve been there the entire time had it not been suspicious.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“Good. Sooo, I’m wondering, what are we now?”

“A couple,” he answers. “I’ve thought that for a while, but I’m too fuckin’ old to be callin’ myself your boyfriend.”

“I quite like having a sexy, older boyfriend.”

You squeak in surprise when he rolls you onto your back, your legs automatically opening for him to nestle his hips between. He’s holding himself up with his arms beside your head while yours loop around his neck, his lips pressing to the side of your throat, kissing the taut skin.

“You like havin’ a sexy, older boyfriend, huh?” His question is muffled, and you swallow hard when he sucks on your pulse point.

“I do,” you reply.

“I like havin’ you.” He’s kissing and nibbling along your jaw.

“‘Cause no one else can?”

He nips your chin, then hovers his head over yours to look you in the eyes.

His expression is serious. “Yes,” he says, “and I love you—if Ellie really doesn’t give a shit about me datin’, then every fuckin’ person in town is gonna know you’re mine.”

And something about that declaration thrills you.

“I’d like that.”

He gives you a small smile and kisses you for a moment before a thought comes to him, and he pulls back to meet your gaze.

“Maybe that neighbor, the annoyin’ one who doesn’t seem to know the meanin’ of no, will finally get it through her head, I’m not fuckin’ interested.”

You glare off into the distance. “Fucking Sandra,” you seethe.

The first time he met you, Joel knew he was fucked.

All he wanted to do was be polite and introduce himself to his new neighbor, then you opened the door, and his brain stopped working because you were so beautiful. It didn’t help when you blatantly checked him out, clearly undressing him with your eyes before looking entirely too pleased with what you were seeing.

If he’d been a stronger, honorable man, he wouldn’t have accepted your offer to come inside for a drink; he wouldn’t have kissed you back or laid you down on the couch to eat your pussy; he wouldn’t have let you choke on his dick or crawl into his lap and ride him; he wouldn’t have gotten so lost in being buried in your wet, warm, perfect cunt and your lips on his that he forgot to pull out when he came; he wouldn’t have gotten addicted and returned to you almost every night after.

If he’d been a stronger, honorable man, he would’ve ended things before it went too far and definitely before he fell in love with you.

From the beginning, he knew he was way too old for you, and he didn’t understand why you wanted him or kept letting him into your house. He had nothing to offer you, yet even when the opportunities arose for you to go home with men your own age, you rejected them and welcomed him into your bed instead. It made little sense that someone as young and beautiful as you would give someone like him all of your attention.

He’s lost count of how many times he’s told you that you’d be better off with somebody younger than him. It’s usually when he remembers your age or when you don’t know what he’s talking about when he brings up certain things from how life was before it all went to hell. He says the words out loud, practically a reflex at this point when the guilt gets to him, and as quickly as the feeling comes, it goes because, as he told you, he’s selfish; he doesn’t want you with someone else; he wants you all to himself. When you tell him there isn’t anyone you’d rather be with than him, it feeds something deep inside of him that won’t let you go, and hearing you say you love him has only made it stronger—you have his total devotion.

Ellie being sick messed up his head enough that in the moments when you came to mind, he was plagued with the thought that you probably found someone new. The only time he felt a modicum of peace was when you stopped by, and with that and how much his kid loved you being there, and in general, he came to the conclusion he couldn’t lose you:

It was time for him to tell Ellie.

Joel isn’t delusional; you’d grow tired of only getting his nights and the occasional day, eventually, and he needed to give you more of himself, which required his daughter to know about your relationship.

If Ellie knew, then he could give you more.

He’s ashamed of himself for hiding your relationship and, in turn, not having much to offer in terms of a future. It bothers him so much that he hasn’t been able to be with you out in the open because you deserve better than being his dirty little secret, as you call yourself.

He hates that.

He wants everyone to know you’re his and that he is yours.

When he realized he was going to tell Ellie, he started imagining how your relationship would change. You could finally have a life together, and it had him thinking about things he never would’ve considered before you and actively tried to prevent in the past, but you didn’t mind the idea of bringing a new life into the world, and he thought that might not be so bad; Jackson’s safe, and he has no doubt you’ll be a great mother—and it’s a future he’s pretty sure you want since your reactions have always been positive when he accidentally finishes inside you. That’s why tonight he decided to say fuck it and asked if he could; he wasn’t worried about the consequences anymore.

He’s kicking himself in the ass for not talking to Ellie sooner.

The only reason he hasn’t broached the subject with her is after what happened in Colorado, Joel’s treated her like she’s a fragile piece of glass that he doesn’t want to risk getting broken again—the way she lost her spark after that resort town killed him; and what happened at the hospital? If he had the chance, he’d murder every one of those Fireflies again for how fucked up she was when he told her their plans to kill her without knowing for sure if they could make a cure or not and that her life meant nothing to them.

It took a lot of time for him to put her back together again, and being in Jackson helped a lot with her making friends and having some semblance of normalcy. But he’s worried any major changes will mess her up, and add in her biggest fear of ending up alone, Joel dating seems like a recipe for disaster—Ellie will always be his top priority, even if it’s at the expense of his happiness.

It’s early morning, and he’s got another thirty minutes before the sun will begin its ascent on the horizon, fresh snow coating the ground, the temperature freezing. Joel is skulking home from your place to be there before Ellie wakes up.

His point of entry is the back door that leads into their kitchen, which doesn’t make as much noise as the front and can be locked when he leaves. He’s staying close to the side of the house, heading toward the backyard, and peeks around the corner to check the vicinity—his heart pounds when he sees a dark figure trying to get into the door, Joel pulling the knife, he walks around with, off of his belt, keeping his steps light, silently approaching them.

“Why the fuck don’t we have a light back here?” he hears them quietly mutter.

“Ellie?” Joel says at regular volume.

“Ahhh!” she screams, turning in his direction. Her hand is over her winter coat-covered chest. “Jesus Christ, Joel! Way to give me a fucking heart attack!”

He walks closer, sheathing his knife, as he says, “What the hell are you doin’ out here?”

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

His hands perch on his hips. “Doesn’t matter—you, on the other hand, just got over bein’ sick and shouldn’t be out in this cold. Move, I’m gettin’ your ass inside.”

She stepped aside, and he walked over, quickly unlocking and opening the door; he grabbed her by the shoulder and firmly guided her inside. He flicked on the room’s light once they were inside, and the door was closed and locked, Joel crossing his arms over his chest.

“Now, where the fuck have you been?” he asks.

She’s unzipping her coat. “Where the fuck have you been?”

“I asked you first.”

She shrugs off her jacket and tosses it onto the kitchen table. Joel sighs, walking over to pick it up—he’ll hang it alongside his by the front door before he goes up to his room.

“I was at the same place you were.”

He keeps his face neutral, but his heart is thudding, and he’s pretty fucking sure she wasn’t at your house.

He meets her eyes. “And that is?”

She smirks. “My secret girlfriend’s.”

“Goddammit.” His fingers press to his forehead as he closes his eyes. “You fuckin’ know—how the fuck do you know?”

“Let’s see, she’s literally the only person in town aside from me and Tommy’s family you like. You stare at her with, I don’t know what to call them, googly eyes? It’s that look the dudes have when they see the love of their life, or whatever, in those shitty romantic movies we like to make fun of. I’ve heard you call her ‘sweetheart’—” She fake gags, and Joel sighs. “—you’ve gone over to her house to fix so much shit that, at this point, it’s gotta be a whole new house. You sneak over there every fucking night. Oh, and when she sees the lady next door, the crazy one who’s got a real hard-on for you—gross by the way—when she sees ‘you can call me, Sandy,’ flirt with you—double-gross—I’m pretty sure she’s plotting murder; you’re definitely plotting murder when guys hit on your girlfriend—which, I don’t get why the two of you pretend like you aren’t together; is she embarrassed that you’re so fucking old and ugly, or something?” His teeth clench, and he glares at her. “God, don’t give me the murder eyes, Joel! I was kidding!” She playfully punches his arm. “Kind of… I mean, I’m happy you found someone who loves you even though you’re a grumpy asshole and look like that.” She points at his face.

“You done?”

“Telling you you’re old and ugly? Sure. For now. But I have one more thing that gave you guys away.”

His eyebrow lifts. “What is it?”

“When she came over the other day while I was sick as balls and hung out with me, you slept. Joel, you do not fucking sleep if there’s anyone else here besides me, which is why if I wanna have a sleepover with my friends, I have to go to their houses.”

“Were we really that obvious?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”

She’s clearly confused. “I thought we were avoiding the topic.”

“What topic?”

“Like, relationships—you never said anything to me, so I figured it was something we don’t talk about.”

He cringes. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel…”

She smiles. “I don’t give a fuck if you date, Joel—if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

He matches her look. “I’m pretty fuckin’ happy. Are you happy with your uh, girlfriend? Have I met her?”

“Yeah,” she nods, grinning. “It’s Cat!”

His eyes round—he was under the impression Cat is her best friend, and he has met the other girl many times.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re way better at this secret girlfriend stuff than I am. I had no clue. I like Cat; she’s got all those neat tattoos.”

“She does!” she replies with a grin. “And I’m getting one!”

“You’re what?!”

Masterlist - One Shot

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know! 

[angel-eyes05]

to leave the warmest bed i've ever known

pairing: spiderwoman!reader x miguel o’hara 

summary: after miguel’s fight with miles, you confront him in his office

warnings: this whole thing is basically one big argument there’s SO much angst, implied suicide attempt, HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, im projecting a little in some parts of this ngl (i cried writing a certain section of this, you'll know it when you read it lmao), mentions and descriptions of blood, gore, and death

word count:  4.1k

notes: i watched the movie yesterday…and miguel is on my mind. but i remember reading this namor x reader fanfic after i watched wakanda forever of a similar idea to this and i loved it so this is HEAVILY inspired by that fic, but just make it miguel. i would link it but ngl that was so long ago and i dont remember the author. if i end up finding it again ill put it here. also, just pretend miguel has been doing this whole spider society thing for a couple of years at least, it just needs to work like that for this ik its probably not canon but just roll with it lmao. and yes the title is a taylor swift lyric im so glad you noticed (im so sorry she's in my brain rn with the eras tour)

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The anger boiled up inside your chest as you stormed your way across the lobby. Hundreds of different Spider-Man variants were scattered across the area, some more injured than the others. It sickened you sometimes. How he had so many people under his grasp and just decided to throw some of them at the walls sometimes, not caring how hard they hit the floor because they were all just ammo to him. How despite his denials of it, that’s probably what your role was to him as well. Nothing more than a bullet in his massive machine gun.

You normally tried not to think about it, how his determination towards his goal sometimes meant lack of care for others. But this time he had just gone too far. You always had a soft spot for Miles, watching closely on him whenever Miguel would let you go though scanners of all the different variants. You admired his struggle, but eventual success to taking up the previous Peter’s mantle, and always hated how Miguel talked about him. You knew there was no way Miles could’ve asked for any of this. For the pressures and struggles of being a Spider-Man, for everything causing such a strained relationship with his parents, for the death of his uncle, and for what will be the eventual death of his father. You definitely didn’t.

Ok lets do this one last time. Eh, whatever, there’s probably gonna be 50 other introductions after this one so it doesn’t really matter.

Being Earth-837’s Spider-Man has never been easy. Especially since you were bit when you were only 13 (another reason you sympathized with Miles and Gwen). Your life had followed the order of canon events to a perfect T, your older brother killed in a fight with a robber only two months after you were bit. You tried to overcome the burden of your powers by trying to live as normal of a teenage life as possible, but it was mostly in vain, having to give up multiple friendships and relationships in fear of those you love getting hurt. This was only elevated when your boyfriend Peter was murdered in the crossfire of an encounter with Doc Ock. You didn’t understand. You couldn’t. What you had done to deserve all of this. All you did was just be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You wonder sometimes what would happen if someone was in the same place you were when you got bit. If someone else went to the closed down area of that museum and ran into that spider. That stupid spider that ruined your life. Those thoughts slowly started to disappear for a bit. For a few years things were easy. Things seemed like they were finally going in your favor.

You were 25 when it happened. The last canon event. Ever since you were a little girl you hated your mother’s job. Losing nights of sleep over if she would come home or not. She always did though. She was good at her job. Too good though. Good enough to get promoted to police captain, which for who you were, was basically sealing her fate. She saved so many people that day. You were too busy fighting Venom to notice how much collateral damage you were causing in the process. Your mother’s job was to evacuate all the citizens away from the fight. She died shielding a child from incoming debris. A noble way to go. But god was it gruesome. You found her after the fight was over, two metal poles impaling her. One through her stomach and one straight through her face, pools of blood growing bigger below her as she was left there, all the paramedics busy trying to save the heavily injured. You froze when you finally recognized her, unable to at first due to how mutilated her face was from the pole. Suddenly, you were transported back to being a six year old, falling asleep outside the door to your mother’s bedroom so you would know exactly when she would come home. Purposefully falling asleep in her arms so that she couldn’t go anywhere.

When you used the key she had given you to get into her apartment that night, and you slept in her room, desperate to intake anything left of her before she was fully gone. You doused yourself in her perfume so it still felt like she was standing right behind you. You had always loved her smell. The smell of vanilla, curl product, and fancy perfume. They were attached to memories you had of her. Trying on her heels when you were a kid to try and be fancy like her. Smelling her hair in the morning before school to comfort you before she left for work. Despite all of this bringing you comfort, all it really did was cause further denial in your heart. That one day you were gonna hear the keys clacking in the keyhole to your apartment one more time. That’s all you really wanted. You would give everything up in a heartbeat just to hear her police scanner go off one last time. But it wasn’t going to. And it was your fault. Deep down you knew it was. You should’ve done a better job controlling the debris. You had always been a messy fighter, but you didn’t know it was going to mean anything until it was too late. 

How you got up to the top of that building is still a blur to you to this day. But next thing you know, you were looking at the New York City skyline from the very top of the Empire State Building. And at the very edge too. You heard some sounds behind you, but you just decided it was the wind howling from how high up you were. You were just so tired. Everything and everyone you loved was cursed all because of you. And with your mother as the most recent victim, you decided you finally had enough. You took a deep breath, eyes overflowed with water, as you set your foot forward.

Your plummet was interrupted by a sudden contact you felt to your forearm. Shock filled your body as you turned around to look at what had stopped your attempt. The blue hand was massive, nearly wrapping back around onto itself as it held onto you for dear life. You finally looked up at face that the hand belonged to. The mask that covered the massive figure was a strange one. Blue with strange red silhouettes for the eyes. It kind of reminded you of…your own costume? That couldn’t be though there was no way. This must be the afterlife or something. You already jumped and that's why you didn’t remember your way up to the top. This was some kind of creature trying to stop you from jumping down to hell below. His breaths were heavy and loud, almost like he was desperate to stop you. This convinced you that this was real, which caused you to try to escape from his grip. He was stronger than you, and was putting up a huge fight. You were slick though. Once you were out of his hand, you closed your eyes and quickly made your jump. Everything flashed before your eyes. Your brother, Peter, your mom. You were hoping to see them soon. This was very quickly interrupted again when you suddenly stopped falling. Something had attached itself to your stomach. You opened your eyes. A web? This web was much different than yours though. It was glowing a bright, neon orange.

The man was holding onto the end of it tightly with both hands. His mask then disappeared to show his face. His was long, matching how big the rest of his body was, defined cheek bones sticking out. Brown wavy hair slicked back with a few loose strands flying out in the wind. The look of desperation on his face stook out most of all. Why did he care so much? He didn’t know you, and you definitely didn’t know him. “Let me pull you up. Please,” he said to you between shaky pants. You stared at him for a bit before nodding. He slowly pulled you up with the string of his web, each move more careful than the last. As soon as your feet were planted safely back on the roof of the building, he wrapped you up in his massive arms. You appreciated the gesture, but you didn’t return it, still very confused about why he was so concerned. He was so big around your body though, you couldn’t help but feel a little comforted, feeling his still shaky breaths against the hairs of your neck. Soon after, he clicked on some buttons on his neon orange watch and led you into a portal.

The rest is history. You’re grateful he found you that day. It allowed you to meet so many people, Peter B., Jess, Gwen, Hobie, Ben, Pavitr, Margo. They all related to you and you felt like you could share things with them that you couldn’t do with anyone else. You had grown especially close to Peter and Jess, both of them having been in the game for a long time, just like you. They both knew how you felt, having lost so much and growing so tired after so many years. Peter even named you as Mayday’s godmother when she was born, a gesture that caused you to nearly kill him with your hug. Miguel though was different. He wasn’t nearly as social as the rest of your friends, but you found yourself having much more intimate moments with him (in more ways then one). You eventually found out why Miguel was so concerned for you the day you met. He had taken interest in your abilities early into looking for variants for his little “project”, but refrained from roping you into something so dangerous while you were still in your teens.

Once you were old enough though, he started paying more and more attention, hoping to catch you in a fight and recruit you then. But he was always pulled away with more important duties to attend to. That was until he witnessed your canon event. He had seen it happen so many times before through his scanners. It was going to happen. It had to in order for your universe to not collapse in on itself. But for some reason, yours hurt more than the rest to him. Especially how you coped with it. Seeing you wrap yourself up in her blankets and clothes broke his heart. He knew where this would lead to. That’s why he was there that day. To save you. He had to, or he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. You got your own watch immediately, along with your own room in the Spider Society headquarters. He stayed close with you for the first month of you being a member of the team. When he wasn’t out on missions, he was with you. You didn’t really know what to label you two as, but whatever was going on, you liked it. And he did too.

That is until Miles came into the picture. Once Miles was bit, all hell broke loose for Miguel. He was always in some alternate dimension catching some Spider-Man villain who got out and rangled them back over here, falling back over to you more beat up and bruised than the last time. You couldn’t imagine how much stress he was under, the fate of the entire multiverse up to him. You had some ways of helping him relieve his stress, but you wish you could convince him that he wasn’t alone in this. But nothing ever got through to him. He had become distant, aloof even. You tried bringing it up to Jess every so often, but she would just brush it off.

“That’s how he’s always been.” Not to you he hasn’t. This week has been hell though. With Spot making it over to Miles, Miguel had been going into rages all week. You had put up with it for now, but that was all about to stop. Watching how harsh he was being on Miles, throwing so many Spider-Men at an innocent boy, risking all of their lives in the process. Disregarding everything Gwen and Peter were feeling and then throwing Gwen back into her broken world with nothing. He had gone too far. No one else was going to stand up to him about it, so you knew it had to be you. Maybe he would listen, maybe he wouldn’t. It didn’t really matter. He just needed to hear it.

“It’s not worth it you know.” The voice snapped you out of your thoughts, stopping you in your tracks. “You know how stubborn he gets over these things,” said Jess, trying to convince you to save your breath. “I don’t care. I have to at least try,” you responded, monotonically. “I just don’t understand how you can follow him so blindly and not see what he’s doing is wrong.” “Because he isn’t wrong. I don’t know about you, but I’m not just gonna stand by and let some kid’s stupid decisions destroy another Earth,” Jess argued. “He’s just trying to save his dad, I can’t understand how that makes him such a bad person,” you said, finally turning around to face her, shocked when she was closer to you than expected.

“You know exactly why. Don’t be so naive, y/n,” she shot back. “You can’t stop me,” you said staring straight into her. She shrugged. “Then I can’t help you.” She began to walk away. You did to, until you heard her say. “You don’t know how much he cares for you.” You turned around to face her again, but her back was still to you, her head tilted ever so slightly to look at you. “If you really do care for the kid, watch what you say to Miguel right now. Cause you might just give him the final push he needs to do what needs to be done.” You didn’t give her a response, and just simply kept walking. You felt Jess’ eyes on your back as you entered the elevator to get up to Miguel’s office.

The elevator ride up felt longer than it should’ve, as you tried to gather all of your thoughts and emotions together so even if he didn’t listen, your words would still stick with him in some way. You didn’t necessarily want to hurt him (though your fists were telling you otherwise), but you did want him to be aware of what he’s done. Once the doors finally opened, all of that work flew out the window as rage took over your body again, seeing Miguel up there looking at the scanners. The fact that he looked just as normal as he always does made you furious. It’s like nothing happened.

“You know, I could hear you coming in from the lobby,” he said, almost stopping you in your tracks. You hated when he did that. Claiming that he knew what your every move was going to be. Like you were under his control or something. “Yeah, well then you must’ve heard me talking to Jess, which means you know exactly what this is about,” you shot back, stopping to where you could see him perched up there. “Why don’t you just save me the conversation about morality and just come up here and kick my ass already. It’ll save both of us time,” he said, not even taking his eyes off the scanners to look down at you. This only added to your fury. “That’s not what I’m here for Miguel, so don’t you dare try to twist my words here. What you did to that kid was fucked up and you know it.” “Oh yeah, then why didn’t you try to do anything to stop me?” he questioned.

“Because I’m not stupid Miguel. I’m not gonna try to take down hundreds of Spider-Men at once.” “Oh, cause you’re so much better than that?” This wasn’t like him at all. That gentle, kind, and caring Miguel you once knew was gone, taken over by some sort of personal vendetta he had against Miles. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this all needs to stop before it gets taken too far. You’re getting into a fight you can’t win. That kid’s strong and so are his allies. And if you go any further into this, I won’t be here to help you.” He stayed still and only turned his head to look at you. “And what makes you think that you’re so important to my plan that it’ll fall apart if you leave? Have you really become that pretentious?”

Your body froze. Have I really? No no no, that’s exactly what he wants. If you begin to doubt yourself now, you’ll stay and nothing will change. You knew you were right. He was trying to crumble you down, but you wouldn’t let that happen. “And you really think that one kid is going to ruin something that you’ve been working for for years? How insecure you’ve become.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, turning back away from you. You did the same, wiping off your face in anger. “I hate it when you do tha-,” you said as you turned back around, but were cut off to find Miguel standing there right in front of you. He was close. Too close to your liking, although in any other circumstance you would’ve found this attractive.

He tilted his head up, but his eyes were down staring daggers into yours. You hated how much he tried to make himself seem more superior to you. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he repeated, this time slower as if you were a child. “He’s just a kid Miguel,” you said in a low, quiet voice. “An anomaly. And a dangerous one at that.” “God Miguel, all he wants to do is protect his dad, do you know how insane you sound right now?” you said letting out a slight laugh when you finished. You backed away from him a little. “He doesn’t know how much damage he’ll do with this. Saving his father will only prolong the inevitable. His world will be gone within hours if he does this. All I’m trying to do is make him understand,” he tried to explain. “By trying to kill him.” “You always have to exaggerate the situation,” he said palming his face. “But that’s essentially what you’re trying to do isn’t it? Why not snuff out the problem entirely by taking him out!”

He signed and began to walk away while you were talking, bringing up your anger even more. “Yeah, use all the power you’ve accumulated over the years and just take out the small problem! Except this isn’t just a fly on the wall Miguel. This is a child! An innocent boy who didn’t ask for any of this to happen to him, just like how we didn’t. I get it, I’m sorry that this job is stressful, I really am. But that gives you zero right to act the way you are!” You were screaming at him at this point. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want your emotions to get the best of you. But he was being too stubborn. This was the only way you thought you could get to him. You might not have wanted to, but you needed to hurt him now. It was the only way.

“You can’t be so power blind that you refused to accept the fact that there could be a way around Captain Davis’ death. You said we saved Earth’s before, I’m sure we could do it again.” Your anger only kept rising when he kept walking away and didn’t respond. “This is a personal thing isn’t it?” you asked calmly. You knew it was working now when he stopped walking. “Yeah, it it. You won’t let Miles get his happy ending. Because why should he be pardoned of his burden while the rest of us have suffered so much. While you’ve suffered so much.” The answer to your question was confirmed when Miguel stayed silent. “Just because you didn’t get the life you wanted Miguel, doesn’t mean you have the right to stop other people from getting theirs.”

You knew you overstepped the line when Miguel turned around and started walking towards you, fury burning in his crimson eyes. “Yeah, so what! What if that is what this is all about! You should know better than anyone how much this job takes away from you!” he screamed at you, backing you up into a wall. “Why should he get to be let off so easily, while people like you and me have to suffer so much? Don’t try to turn me into the villain here when I know you’re thinking the exact same thing, y/n.” He wasn’t entirely wrong. You had wondered it at some points. “I won’t let you turn this onto me Miguel, this is about you,” you fired back. “Oh no, you’re not getting off that easily. I know you’re thinking it. And you’re right. Why should Miles get let off so easily when you’ve lost so much.” He held your hands in his, trying to connect to you. “And you have mi vida. You’ve had so much taken from you and it’s unfair. Why should he only have lost one person when you’ve had three taken from you. Your brother, Peter, your moth-.”

He was cut off by your hand striking against his face in a harsh blow. “If you’re smart, and I know you are, you’ll keep those three out of them. I won’t let you drag their names through the dirt for something as stupid as this.” You both stood there for a while, both of your eyes looking towards the ground, hoping it would open up to swallow you both as an escape from this god awful conversation. You never wanted it to come to this. In all honesty, you cared for Miguel. You might’ve even loved him, if you were even capable of doing such a thing. You hoped he felt the same way about you, but in a job like this, he always had at least one wall up around you. It just wasn’t worth it anymore. You were too tired to keep trying for something that was most likely going to fall apart in the end. 

“You’re still going after him aren’t you?” you asked, finally breaking the silence. Miguel looked back up at you. “You can’t ask me not to. You know better than anyone why this is so important to me.” He moved his hand up to cup your cheek and kissed your forehead gently. You let it sit there for a minute out of habit before pushing it off your face. “And you must know why I can’t stay anymore then.” His shoulders dropped. “Whatever this thing between us is. It’s over. I can’t stay beside someone who can’t see what he’s doing is wrong.” Miguel’s dropped hand turned into a fist of anger. “Fine,” he spat in your face. “I don’t need someone like you in my way. You’re just a liability to this anyways.” He began to walk away from you back to his scanners. “Just don’t come crying back over to me when your little plan doesn’t work out, cause I won’t help you.” He used his webs to pull himself back up to the platform to keep looking for Miles. You stood there for a second, gathering yourself.

Five years. Out the door just like that. It bewildered you how easily a bond like you two had could be broken all because of one teenager. You began to make your way for the door before you said. “When this is all over…don’t try to find me.” He didn’t respond. Once the elevator doors opened, you rushed inside, desperate to get away from him. So many thoughts rushed through your head as the doors closed and you sunk down back to the lobby to leave. You didn’t have much of a plan. This could end up being a horrible idea. Your gut told you it was the right thing to do though. And that was enough for you. You walked out of the headquarters lobby with a new heart and a new mind, ready to take action for your new plan.

First though, you had to find Gwen.

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a/n: god that took longer than it should've. dw dw i'll do a part 2 if enough people ask for one. im not 100% sure how im gonna do a part 2 cause yk....idk how beyond the spiderverse is gonna go so tbh, we're just gonna make it go the way i want lmao. thanks for reading, ik this was kind of a long one lmao

NEXT CHAPTER

[acewoo]

Jjk men Bf head-cannons

Note: pure fluff, Sfw Characters included: Gojo, Geto, and sukuna

Satoru Gojo

Gojo will send you tonssss of voice messages talking about literally anything. He’ll be on his couch laying down and he’ll send you a voice message about how the show he’s watching is so boring. “The female lead doesn’t even have any personality and is just there to make the male lead look good!” You’ll complain to him sometimes that he send too many of these voice messages but, he responds that it couldn’t be true because, you love the sound of his voice. (And to be fair you do listen to every one he sends.)

Gojo cannot cook for the life of him. Anytime you try to teach him something wrong will always happen. For example you tired showing him how to make spaghetti and meatballs which is simple enough, right? Wrong. Because Gojo, not only ended up burning the pasta (somehow which still boggles your mind to this day) but, the meatballs weren’t exactly balls… They were certainly meat, and they tasted like meatballs but… they were only shaped to say the least.

Gojo definitely spoils you. And anytime you try to tell him he's doing too much he’ll come up with an excuse for why buying you a 180.00 skirt was necessary. “Well I had to get it, it was the last one and it’d work perfectly for that Christmas party we're attending!” To clarify he was talking about, the Christmas party that was three months away. Of course in all fairness you wouldn't complain too much… It would look pretty nice on you.

Suguru Geto

Even the smallest gestures he does for you are full of thought. Whenever you're having a long day at work you'll usually text Geto about your frustrations. He's trying to be supportive as you rant and help you calm down. When you get home you’ll be welcome to a newly cleaned apartment and Geto in the kitchen finishing up making your favorite meal for dinner. When he sees your home he’ll immediately start talking to you “I’ll finish up here soon, how are you feeling?” The rest of night would end up being him taking care of you fully making you forget about work entirely.

This mf definitely remembers the small things within your relationship and he’ll remember things about you no one else will. For instance you disliked when people surprised you from behind. It wasn’t anything that majorly bugged you but, it made you feel uncomfortable. (Especially since you weren’t a huge fan of being touched) When Geto found this out when we you guys were out in public or hanging with a group of friends he’d always stay slightly behind you. When you questioned why he did this, he said it was so he could make sure no one will surprise you like that. Even though you insisted he didn’t have to he still did which you couldn’t help but love him even more for.

Sukuna

He’s possessive, like really possessive. (He swears he’s not though). Anytime your in public around people or not he’ll make it clear your his. Whether that’s an arm around your waist or being very intimate with you even if it’s not the most appropriate… Whenever it’s at places such as a club it’ll be even worse, not only will be touchy but his whole mind and body will be focused on you. (Even if he doesn’t realize it..) And that’s the thing he doesn’t realize he’s like that infact anytime you bring it up to him he swears you’re just overthinking things. Because, him, Sukuna being possessive over another person? Fucking ridicules. Totally not in denial.

One thing you wouldn’t expect from Sukuna would be him to be rather supportive of you and your decisions. Of course it wasn’t exactly the most traditional way people are supportive. But hey, it’s Sukuna nothing about him is ‘normal’. Sukuna is supportive in the way where you’ll feel insecure about wearing and he’ll give you a confused look. “Why the hell would yah not wear it?” Flushed you respond. “It makes me look bad like-“ “I don’t know what you’re on about I like how it looks on you so you’re wearing it.” And of course you weren’t going to argue with your bf so, you wear it. Throughout the day He’ll make comments about how good you look which make you blush. Of course it isn’t exactly the lovely dovey kind of comments but still.

[amourdivine]

୨ ♡ ୧︰ TAROT 101: developing your intuition.

Hello lovelies, welcome to the first post of my Tarot 101 series! After receiving a few questions, I decided to incorporate a series of tips and tutorials for other self-taught readers. Today, I'm answering a follower's asks sent in my DM's. I'm tackling it separately, so it makes more sense to other people to read it. PS: Since this is a major work in progress and I'm not an all-knowing, almighty entity, please provide feedback, comments or concerns you might have! Thank you.

☁️ ˚ NAVIGATE ༉ ‧

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How you develop your intuition and psychic abilities while reading tarot?

There is not one size fits all. While many readers recommend connecting to oneself, that's just the basis of it, really, but the main concept is to look at yourself, compassionately. Without the judgment of our everyday lives and the chaos of getting things right in the first attempt. You cannot be honest with yourself (or your intuition), if self-denial is the state you're living in. Or worse: if you view the truth as punishment.

It's always going to be a journey of discovery, and the first thing about spirituality is that you need to keep an open heart to the magic. Skepticism may get you far ahead in your career or financial matters, but when it comes to intuition, you can't grasp onto logic all the time.

With tarot, it's a little more practical: learn and lean into the cards. Notice I didn't say memorize, because many of us are busy enough with our everyday schedules. Just tap into them. Look at them. What does The Lovers remind you of? Maybe it takes you to the story about the Garden of Eden. Or- maybe it reminds you of your parents, their golden youth before marrying.

Again. No judgement. Let your stream of consciousness free. A huge part of reading tarot is allowing your imagination to run wild. Although the Devil card can symbolize obsession or addiction at first, take into account the spread, the topic. The context. What is your body telling you about the images you see?

We often underestimate the symbolism behind the cards. Without considering the traditional meanings,take one card out of your deck and just look at it. What colors are prominent? What do these colors represent in modern society? Do these people look happy? Are there any people at all? Where are they? Let your mind weave a story.

As a tarot reader, what you do on daily basis for intuition and tarot reading? What practices, book, or some kind of information which help you for tarot readings?

There are many things that have helped me, personally, but I'm going to mention some of the best practices I've seen, both for myself and for others.

› Stay creative. If it means drawing, writing, or painting, then stay creative. Find whatever little (or big) ways you can express your creativity. Remember you don't have to be "good". You can just be. Creativity exists in a lot of ways.

› Engage with other readers. Observe them. You can find a tarot reader that deeply resonates with you and watch how they read. Test if it works for you. Remember this is your practice, it's your sacred space, so you don't have to follow someone else's rules.

› Read, if and when you can. I personally recommend the book "History of Tarot" by Isabelle Nadolny, but not everyone can afford books or the time to read them. There are plenty of Youtube tutorials and free guidebooks on Biddy Tarot, for example. I also love Servant of The Fates' blog. They're both different and great, reliable sources.

› Start small. You can pull one card a day. Get a journal, write its meaning (or what it means to you) and record your progress. In a few months, when you return to it, you might find it surprising.

› Let yourself not know everything. No one does. Sometimes, you'll need to pause, go back to a guidebook and read the meaning all over again. Other times, you'll look at the spread and feel nothing. That's okay too. We're not meant to know all the answers.

Is meditation really important for reading tarot? Why? How much time do you spend daily for tarot readings and spiritual practices?

Since this is more of a personal matter, I'll be talking about myself. I don't meditate as often as most readers. Three times a month, maybe? I have a busy schedule and I can only meditate before bed, if I'm not too sleepy. Many people find that meditation makes them anxious or they're not able to fully let go. Other people find it that being in silence or taking a walk is more useful to them. Relaxation and meditation come in many, many forms. The important thing is to nurture your body and soul more than to adhere to rigid rules.

However, when it comes to saving time for readings or spiritual practices, I don't set rules for myself. It never works for me.

I let it flow. Sometimes, I go weeks on end without really consuming tarot content and I bond with my decks occasionally. And other times, I'm reading daily, journaling and trying to improve my skills. Since I have a billion other things to care for, I'm not always able to prioritize tarot as much as I'd like, but the important thing is to stay passionate, stay curious and get back to it. Better late than never.

When you're getting started, let yourself try. If you get it wrong, at least you'll be one step closer to getting it right.

amourdivine. 2021 - 2024 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.

[dyslexicashell]

Perverted! (Brothers addition) NB! Reader

Tw: Mommy kink, Mentions of cum, Pillow humping, Underwear, Food play, Choking, Voyeurism(?), Degradation, mentions of Semi-public fucking, Over stimulation, Orgasm denial

A mommy kink can be used for any gender it's just a pet name used sometimes.

Lucifer (Dom)- Lucifer? A pervert? Well, yes and no. You see he's very sneaky about it, because he needs to protect his pride. But when comes to you to being alone? Well, I guarantee it's not just going to be all fluffy and sweet. As soon as you two are out of sight he's groping and grabbing at any part of your body he can, some skins showing? You know damn well his lips are all over it leaving as many marks as he can "Your mine..." he mumbles mindlessly while his lips travel all over your skin, leaving dark purple and red marks in their wake. Definitely grinds on you when no one's looking, his picture for you in his contact's is a picture of your fucked out face laying covered in cum on his desk.

Mammon (Service Dom)-

Mammon as a pervert? Oh, you're in for it, he'll act like he's perfectly fine in public. But as soon as your away from people, he's nestled between your legs licking and sucking away. Rubbing your thighs and telling you how much he missed this and how he would do anything for you. When your away he'll hump your pillow small mewls of your name leaving his mouth "Mc..." he'll mumble still humping your pillow. Even when you get home he won't stop, he'll say hello and continue to hump your pillow while ushering you over to the bed.

Levi (Sub)-

Literally has always been a pervert, when in public he'll grope your ass and thighs when no one's looking. And he knows damn well that he'll get punished for it when he gets home. "Levi, you are fucking slut, are you trying to get yourself caught?" you'll chuckle spitefully at your owns words while his thighs twitch quiver while you continue to use him to your own carnal desires. "M-mc! Please more! More!" he mewls, to be honest he's not listening to a word you say. More than likely he's up in his own head absorbed by how good he feels, by the pleasure you're giving him. He'll sometimes steal your underwear to jerk off with, he knows he'll get in trouble for it, but the poor thing just can't help it. You understand right?

Satan (Service Sub)-

Very, very sneaky pervert. He'll leave little gifts for you sitting on your desk, most of them being videos or pictures from the night before to rile you up. Listening to his small sounds tell you how good you make him feel and asking for more of your touch. Don't even think of going to class early, he's patiently waiting for you on his bed. Waiting to be used and pleasured until you decide it's enough. Def has a mommy kink, would whisper it in your ear at school when he's feeling needy. Just drag him off to a nearby empty classroom or janitors closet and make it fast. If you don't, he'll start to whine openly saying how much he needs his mommy in front of other's no matter the consequences. He did it once when you were in a meeting with the others, and that's how they found out about you and Satan dating. "I'm sorry Mommy I hope you're not mad..." he mumbles sitting by your feet while you look down at him from your bed, if you are mad, it'll only take a few minutes for him to solve it. After all, how long can you go resisting his little pleads and Mewls for his Mommy, he needs you so much more than you know. If you still don't forgive him when you come home the next day, he'll be sitting on your bed wearing nothing but one of the shirts, you gave him. "Mommy please I'm sorry!" he'll whine throwing his arms around you and humping your leg.

Asmo (Switch)-

Always reading to serve his master, constantly humping against you in private and groping you in public. Either way his hands or ON you and they aren't coming off anytime soon. He knows everyone of your weak spots using them to his advantage. "Mc~ Honey~ Let me pleasure you~" he giggles and slither his slender hand down your pants, you know damn well he'll keep your underwear as if it was a trophy. Mutual pleasure is his number one goal. Videos are always present, so that way when one of you isn't around (You), the other can get off (him). But trust me when you get back, he makes it worth the wait, he will smother you in pleasure for the next few days if he can.

Beel (Switch)-

No one would ever know, not even you. Because he's so sweet seeming you wouldn't think that he could be one, but oh boy are you wrong. When you were cooking with him once you got frosting on your cheek, so he licked it off. His brain got to thinking about what else he could lick that frosting off from, of course he didn't say anything. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable, the only way you would find out would be catching him the act of masturbating on YOUR bed, he does it often when you're not home. You clear your throat while he's doing his thing causing his whole body to jolt and stop moving "M-mc" he'll stutter, he's so scared your upset with him. But when your hand gently caresses his face, and you smile at him like that. He can't help but resume what he was doing feeling something swirl in the pit of his stomach from you watching him. Has him cumming in a matter of minutes.

Belphie (Hard Dom)-

Doesn't give a fuck where you are, if he wants to fuck, he'll drag you to a secluded spot and takes you how he sees fit. Definitely like seeing your face while he gently chokes you hearing the little moans you let out. "Hmm? You like that little slut?" he'll chuckle continuing to fuck you. "B-belphie, people are going to s-see us" you choke out through moans and sobs from the overstimulation he's giving you. He scoffs ignoring your words and begins fucking you harder. He'll make you lay down with him so he can lazily fuck himself into you. Even if people are around, he'll just tell you to keep yourself quiet or you won't cum anytime soon.

[she-who-fights-and-writes]

hello! i checked your blog and couldn’t see anything but i apologise if i missed it! do you have any tips on writing regret? for example character a does something to upset character b and now character a is dealing with the aftermath of that

Tips on How to Write Regret

Characters make mistakes, but sometimes it can be difficult to write how they're feeling in the aftermath of those mistakes. Here are some tips and tricks on how to write regret!

These are what I personally try to take into account when writing regret, and I definitely can't cover everything, so feel free to add in your own tidbits of advice!

1. Measure the Regret Based on the Mistake (and your character!)

Regret is a spectrum. It ebbs and flows, rising up to be absolutely suffocating at some times and fading into the background at others. Depending on the mistake your character made and the way that your character personally deals with the knowledge of making such a mistake, their regret is going to differ in intensity.

The reactions of your characters to regret are an incredible way to make them more three-dimensional--especially when the regret (seemingly!) doesn't match the mistake.

Why are they so apologetic and remorseful over something as simple as breaking a mug?

Why do they not seem to care at all that a civilian has become collateral damage?

A character's supposed overreaction or underreaction to certain things can be a great source of tension between your cast.

Just be sure that an overreaction/underreaction to a situation matches your character's personality...or, if it doesn't, make sure the moment counts!

A reader is going to be incredibly jarred if the normally stoic character breaks into tears over a mistake, or if a normally emotional character is cold in the face of a tragedy, so you'll want to save these moments for points of high tension or importance!

2. Pace Your Regret Carefully

Sometimes regret isn't as simple as an apology and resolution. Regret can linger, which is why it's important to pace your character's regret carefully if it's prolonged throughout the story.

If your character's regret is coming from an unresolved argument with another character, you may want to avoid dragging the argument out in a dramatic, constant unwarranted miscommunication kind of way; many readers have started turning their backs on the miscommunication trope, so be warned! Instead, you can have it simmer and fester rather than exploding in bursts, forcing the characters to come to terms with this wall between them as they try to rebuild their relationship.

(Also, make sure you don't completely eliminate apologizing from the equation! Sometimes an apology and resolution can be better for your plot than a cycle of miscommunication; there's nothing more potent than the big "I'm Sorry" scene!)

If your character's regret comes from past mistakes that can never be corrected, you may want to explore the healing process, and how certain people cope with long-term regret.

3. Some Symptoms of Regret

Rapid or unsteady heartbeat

Shaking (hands, legs, etc.)

Chills

Insomnia/Fitful sleep

Rumination

Ruthless criticism of oneself

Perfectionism/high expectations

Crying

Embarrassment/shame (and all the things linked to that: i.e. face feeling hot, wanting to hide, wishing you could melt into your shoes)

Avoiding talking about the mistake

Constantly going over the mistake in their head

Short temper from stress

Defensiveness

Denial

Headaches

Resentment

Queasiness (since regret and guilt are linked to anxiety, they're often described as "a pit in your stomach" or "a bad feeling in your gut" so play around with ways to talk about this feeling)

At times, your character may forget about their regret if they're occupied, which is why regret often hurts the most when they're alone with their thoughts. Either that, or another character brings it up or there is a trigger of some kind to remind them of their mistake.

4. Ways that People Cope With Regret

Therapy/talking about it with others (the healthiest way!)

Refusing to think or talk about it at all

People pleasing and approval-seeking behaviors/attempts to make up for their mistake

Inability to say no (especially to someone they've wronged)

Convincing themselves that they were in the right

Over-apologizing or refusing to apologize at all

Turning to alcohol or drugs

Hope this helped, and happy writing!

[noaltbruh]

How about 🍨 and 🌺 for Narancia, Bruno, and Abbacchio, please?

Yes! More requests with them! 😊 You don't know how happy I am that you asked for these :)

🍨 Are they more chill about their relationship or a bit more possessive towards their S/O?

Uhm...Abbacchio is rather...Contradictory when it comes to this, to be honest.

This is because, like I mentioned before, he has an hard time fully accepting that he's fallen for someone, even after confessing to you for a bit, and he categorically refuses to come off as clingy or obsessive.

On the other hand...This man is deeply afraid of losing you. He's already lost someone who was dead to him, and he would never forgive himself if the same thing were to happen to you.

So, at the end of the day, he WILL be a bit possessive, but never in an explicit way. So, you may either not notice, or if you do, he'll be able to deny everything.

~~~~~~~

Something Bruno truly values in a relationship is reciprocated trust and respect. He feels safe in being your partner, as he deeply believes you'd never leave him, and he'd never leave you, so he doesn't feel the need to be obsessive over you.

Besides, he cares about group harmony, tries his best to act as a mediator and make everyone get along. He wants you to care about the ones around you too and doesn't wish to only keep you to himself, despite how tempting it may seem sometimes.

Although Bucciarati does check on you quite often, whether it's through messages or phone calls, if he gets even a minute of break from an important...Ahem, business trip. He has your safety at heart and worries about you a lot when he's far away.

He's watching over you even from a distance, and rest assured that he'll fill you with attention any time he can actually be close to you.

~~~~~~

Listen, I'm not going to deny it: Narancia is the sweetest, cutest, most affectionate boyfriend you'll ever find, but he will be very clingy and rather possessive too from time to time. He's this way without even realizing it, he just cares about you more than anything else.

Once you become part of his life, he can hardly even imagine a world that you're not in. He'll go in full ass denial if you were to brought up even the remote possibility of the two of you not being together forever.

Needless to say, it obviously comes from his trauma. This boy will do anything to see you smile, to always make sure that you're cared for and that you have some company when you're feeling down...Or you know, just in general. He just...Wants to be with you, he's being left behind and abandoned by too many people, his mind just can't stand the thought of losing you too.

If he does get a bit overbearing...Try to talk things out. Narancia will always be willing to listen, even if it may hurt at first. But at last, he'll realize that if he really wants you to be happy, you're going to need some space too.

🌺 Do they believe they deserve their S/O or sometimes feel like the latter is too good for them?

Do you really think Abbacchio thinks he deserves anything or anyone that brings him joy?

No, absolutely not.

This man genuinely does not understand why you'd ever choose to be with him. I'll tell you more, he wouldn't get why you would even just talk to him, when he specifically acts to keep everyone away and not let anyone get close.

Why do you insist in being with him so bad, no matter how much he had tried to push away, and even knowing about his self destructive habits? He thinks you deserve someone more...Functional than him, you could say.

What amazes him the most, is how you still remained by his side after eventually finding out about his past. He thought that telling you this, you would have inevitably started to see him as a horrible person...Yet you didn't.

And while he may be taken aback by this decision...Deep down, he couldn't be happier you took it.

~~~~~

I think that with Bruno such problems would hardly ever emerge. He does his hardest to be a good partner to you despite his job and considers you his equal, he thinks you're both deserving of love.

Don't take this the wrong way though, it's not that he doesn't think you're special, he really does. He just feels a very deep respect for you and is faithful you feel the same way. He's truly glad to have you by his side, but he also sees that you seem rather happy with him, so he doesn't think he needs to worry about him being "undeserving" of your love...

...Most of the time. This is because Bucciarati's heart can't help but ache every time he tells you he won't come back that night, or that he doesn't know when he'll he able to leave his office. He knows it pains you too, and this is the only time he wishes he was someone...A bit different, someone who could give you all the affection you could ever wish for.

Please, show him your patient side and that you're not mad at him, when he comes back. It'll be more enough to soothe his worries away.

~~~~~

Narancia abandonment and self-esteem issues Ghirga? Ohh boy you're in for a ride-

This boy doesn't really...Feel very deserving of love in general. He's deeply scared and scarred by negative experiences. Despite how much he doesn't want to think about it, he does live in fear of you growing tired of his presence, leaving to find someone better.

And to be honest...He wouldn't even blame you. He knows he's not as charming as Bruno, as flirty as Mista, as bright as Fugo or as tough as Abbacchio. Why would you...Why would you ever choose him? He doesn't think he has anything to offer you that you wouldn't be able to find somewhere else. He's aware that he can be childish and annoying, even if he doesn't mean to be.

Some cuddles and comfort words will be more than enough to distract him from these thought though. When you're there, he just knows that everything is okay.

[ryuichirou]

I'm kinda starving for Kalijami content right now so I hope you'll indulge me

Got any headcannons for flirty!Kalim that's 100% Jamil sexual but with oblivious!Jamil. Like here is a version of Kalim that could probably charm anyone he wants into relationship or in bed but Jamil is just like "Yes, this is completely platonic" all the while acting like wife material. Kalim is suffering from thirst and its lowkey become everyone's problem cause they're suffering from secondhand tension.

I won't deny any spicier headcannons either too if you have them 🤭

Anon! I’m very happy you’re enjoying our headcanons, and I feel like your idea has potential, so I’ll give you some headcanons. Even though, like in my previous KaliJami post, they’re probably not as nicely aligned with your idea and wishes as you wanted to. So I’m sorry for that.

But I’ll be honest: it’s a bit difficult for me to write KaliJami posts these days. Not because we stopped liking them: we still love the ship very much and I would still love to draw them more often. But it’s been a while since we’ve read anything featuring these characters (we’re focusing on other stuff right now) and my “feel” of them is worse now + they are far from being our main ship, so we naturally don’t have as many ideas for them as for others.

So what I’m saying is that I hope you or any other person won’t get upset if I don’t reply to your KaliJami ask in the future. I don’t want to give you a half-assed reply, and a lot of time I just don’t have anything to say or add, so it wouldn’t be much of a reply anyway. That being said, we really appreciate the love our KaliJami posts are getting, so thank you again.

Alright, the headcanons.

Kalim is genuinely confused about their situation. Jamil doesn’t get or notice something? That never happens. He kind of thinks that Jamil is ignoring his advances on purpose sometimes, but he is conflicted about it… What if Jamil really just doesn’t know? I guess it means that Kalim should keep flirting with him. (People around them are 1000% sure that Jamil is avoiding Kalim’s obvious flirting on purpose. There is no way it isn’t intentional)

Kalim is going to confess his feelings to Jamil but in a bizarre turn of events that wouldn’t work either, because Jamil would still tell himself that it is either platonic or Kalim is lying to himself/confused about his own feelings. Simply because Jamil doesn’t want to deal with Kalim having romantic feelings towards him, so it’s easier to just think he’s goofing around.

Their main problem is that a lot of things that Kalim does as flirting is something that he also does to all of people in a friendly way, so it makes it easier for Jamil to either assume or assure himself that he is just being friendly. For example, magic carpet rides, dances, a lot of touches, long stares in Jamil’s eyes… One time Kalim would spontaneously take Jamil on a date, take him to some extremely beautiful place with nice smelling flowers and pretty lights and romantic/intimate atmosphere, hug him, touch him, get reeeeal clingy… and Jamil would STILL think that he is just goofing around and trying to avoid doing homework or something. Let’s get back already, Kalim. (at this point he’s just in denial)

Kalim would insist on sleeping in Jamil’s bed, Jamil’s first reaction would be annoyed “are you having nightmares?”. It’s almost like Kalim is mentally a toddler in his mind… But when Kalim makes his move and starts kissing and touching Jamil this time, I feel like he wouldn’t be able to lie to himself anymore. They would end up having sex, because despite Jamil being/acting oblivious, the tension between them is quite strong. So once Kalim takes Jamil’s clothes off, starts kissing his neck, his ears, touching his hips and spreading his legs, it’d be an “oh” moment.

…luckily for Jamil, he would tell himself a different lie this time: Kalim is a hormonal horny spoiled stubborn rich kid that always gets what he wants. So of course he would want to also have Jamil. Doesn’t mean any of it is romantic..right?

[notmorbid]

the collected regrets of clover.

dialogue prompts from the collected regrets of clover by mikki brammer.

i thought you weren't coming.

if you never get close to anyone, you can't lose them.

we can be alone together.

death is the only thing in life we can really count on.

i'm here to keep you company.

i thought about calling so many times.

messages of love always make their way through.

the most important advice i have is listen more than you speak.

if you could know the date of your death in advance, would you want to?

what kind of life have you lived, if you never let anybody see the real you?

there's nothing like being in love, even if it doesn't last as long as you want it to.

i guess i've learned to shut my feelings off.

you never cry? not even in sad movies?

just because you don't feel your feelings doesn't mean they don't exist.

if you had a tail, it would be wagging constantly.

i always wanted a sister.

participating in the world is overwhelming sometimes.

i need someone to keep me accountable.

if you want something you don't have, you have to do something you've never done.

can i touch you?

pity doesn't take away the pain.

i'm so happy to see a friendly face.

you're a total catch. you know that, right?

anybody who says they understand love is lying or in denial.

what's the secret to taking a good photo of someone?

i'm sorry for not telling you the truth sooner.

you're the most interesting thing that's happened to me in years.

i guess i've just always preferred my own company.

it's hard to miss something you never really had.

i've never seen you at a loss for words.

how lucky i am to have you.

independence is worth a little discomfort.

you'll never find the right thing to say, because the right thing doesn't exist.

it's easy to glamorize the path you didn't take.

i love how your moral compass never wavers, even when i try to corrupt it.

i wish i could be as decent as you are all the time.

respond. don't react.

i'm probably allergic to about 70% of nature.

i hated feeling like i needed you.

you don't realize how bossy you can be.

tell me the truth. you're the only one who ever does.

be cautiously reckless.

some people find it creepy how much i remember about them.

what's the last great book you read?

maybe the biggest risk in life is taking no risks at all.

the secret to a beautiful death is living a beautiful life.

i know you're super awkward about hugs, so i'm giving you fair warning.

without mystery, there's no magic.

[radicalandmathematical]

Deciding not to date men is actually a huge decision and not as easy as people make it sound sometimes. You can read the arguments people make and realize that y e a h, chances are it's gonna go poorly and you'll be unhappy, but still want it. You can want a good relationship. You can still believe there are good men out there and you can find one and be happy, have a good healthy relationship.

Whether there are good men out there or not doesn't really matter, if you date in hopes of trying to find one you're going to encounter bad men. So in the end you have to realize that it's not worth it to even look. That even if good men exist, you may not find one. You probably won't actually. You'll end up with someone who seemed good, but then gradually got worse and now you're invested and it's hard to leave, or you don't realize how bad it is, even though 5 years ago before you started dating him you would have. It's hard to come to terms with this.

Everyday since before we can even talk, women and girls are bombarded with the message that we should desire a relationship, a husband. We're often sold a highly idealized version of relationships, and it's really easy to want that. To want someone who loves you and supports you. To want companionship and someone to have fun with. Someone to spend your life with, a partner. And you can say you can get that from friends and family all you want, but we are looking for a romantic version of these things, this is what we are being told to desire. Romantic, not platonic. It is incredibly difficult to receive this message for so long, to internalize it, and then give up on it, to give up on dating men.

It takes time. It takes realizing that chances are you can never have that, whether you choose to date men or not. it's an incredibly bleak realization for many women. It's hard to accept. Being told men are evil because look what these men did isn't going to magically make women decide not to date them, to give up on finding a good one.

It's denial. Surely this can't possibly be true, because then we can never have what we want. Yes these men did that, but surely not every man would do something like this. I will find one who doesn't!

And it's kinda true. Not every man is a rapist, men who don't watch porn exist, there are men who do most of the childcare, etc. We know this, and so we can imagine that a good man must exist, an intersection of all the ways in which an individual man may not be horrible. Except...if a man isn't horrible in one way, he's probably horrible in another. The intersection we're looking for is most likely empty, and if not, it's an incredibly small pool and finding such an elusive man is near impossible and not worth the search. It just takes time to realize this.

Just give women time to come to terms with this stuff instead of acting like a single solid argument should change our minds and convince us on the spot that there are no good men so we shouldn't date. That a few examples of men being awful means we should understand there are no good men to be found anywhere no matter how hard we look. Don't be condescending to women who aren't there yet. It just drives us further into denial.

So what does make it sink in? I can't speak for other women, but for me? Just seeing more and more examples of men being trash (without people being condescending about women who still want to date them). Making strong, fulfilling friendships with other women, especially women who are single and uninterested in dating. (Having happy relationships shoved in your face gives you an example of what you're "missing out on," and women who are looking for a relationship reinforce the desire for one.) Seeing other women, especially older ones, being single and happy, but not pushing it, just living their lives. All of this, over time, can help you realize hey, I don't need that in my life.

[coexistentialism]

idk which cdd I have but I’ve just been saying did bc I’ve read things abt how certain presentations of alters/my system that I relate to r apparently more common/known in did (according to the haunted self). and the fact that even if I don’t have amnesia in daily life I may have it in the past. oh shit wait. can amnesia count as like of your other alters n not knowing them like having heavy barriers? n like denial and forgetting about it? is that a type of amnesia? does it matter if I say it’s did over osdd? honestly on that topic,, do u think theres any other reason to specifically suspect did instead of osdd1? maybe that’s a silly question bc everyone is different I’m just thinking about how did is apparently more complex than osdd? so maybe there are some differences other than “well did has amnesia and diffrendiayrd eleboratrd parts while osdd may not” I’m sorry if this sounds messy I’m tired but thinking out loud lol

can amnesia count as like of your other alters n not knowing them like having heavy barriers? n like denial and forgetting about it? is that a type of amnesia?

I think you'll have to be more specific about what you're trying to ask here, cause I'm not sure I understand what you mean unfortunately

does it matter if I say it’s did over osdd?

I'm not sure what you mean, why would it? I ended up rambling a lot in this post, oops.

At the end of the day, an OSDD diagnosis depends on the person who is diagnosing you; OSDD isn't its own separate, unique disorder with specific, unique criteria to meet, separate from DID.

Plenty of people get diagnosed with OSDD when they actually fit the criteria for DID better; or diagnosed with OSDD only to then be later diagnosed with DID. I personally haven't seen or heard about people experiencing the opposite way around (first diagnosed with DID, then changed to OSDD), but I'm sure it probably has happened at some point, but the fact I haven't heard about it is probably saying something.

You don't get diagnosed with OSDD because you meet specific criteria for OSDD - you get diagnosed with OSDD because you DON'T meet the specific criteria for any of the other pre-existing dissociative disorders. It's "BECAUSE you don't meet the criteria for THESE other dissociative disorders that you get diagnosed with OSDD" not "you meet the criteria for OSDD, so you have OSDD." There isn't criteria to meet in the first place! Do you meet the full criteria to be diagnosed with another dissociative disorder? If not, then you get diagnosed with OSDD, and there can be many reasons for this.

This is literally all of the "criteria" you have to meet to be diagnosed with OSDD in the DSM-5, followed by EXAMPLES of reasons why the person was diagnosed with OSDD over any other dissociative disorder. The key word is EXAMPLES - this isn't criteria for a diagnosis of OSDD! Just examples.

Sometimes it's because the system doesn't experience amnesia and they truly don't experience amnesia, but "not experiencing amnesia" is not a specific OSDD criteria that you have to meet, it's just a specific reason why a clinician would give as to why the person doesn't meet the criteria for any other dissociative disorder.

OSDD IS:

A diagnosis that means that you do not meet the full criteria for any of the pre-existing dissociative disorder, such as DID, depersonalization/derealization disorder, etc.

A diagnosis that is often unique to each individual who gets diagnosed with this condition (because there are many reasons why someone might be diagnosed with OSDD and sometimes those reasons are highly specific)

OSDD is NOT:

A specific, unique, separate disorder

A disorder that is "less severe" or "less complex" than DID

A "less severe" "version" of DID

"DID with missing criteria"

"DID, but not quite DID"

A disorder that gets diagnosed when your amnesia "isn't bad/severe enough"

A disorder that gets diagnosed when your amnesia is minimal

A disorder that gets diagnosed when your alters aren't distinct enough

A disorder that gets diagnosed when you don't have it that bad

A disorder that gets diagnosed if you don't struggle "bad enough" or if you're "not that affected" by your symptoms

A disorder that gets diagnosed if you experience your alters as "moods/mood states/brain states/etc." or if you experience that "same stream of consciousness" no matter what alter is fronting, etc. etc.

I feel like people forget as well that OSDD is not just "DID but with missing criteria" it means that you don't meet the criteria for ANY OTHER DISSOCIATIVE DISORDER. It doesn't mean that you're "basically a DID system, but with criteria missing." So when it comes to OSDD, it's important to remember that it specific includes all other dissociative disorders, not just DID. It's specifically saying that you don't meet the diagnostic criteria of ANY OTHER dissociative disorder, not just DID.

All of this is why it's confusing to me when people (not @ the anon) try to put hard distinctions between DID and OSDD-1, or when people try to lay out some kind of key distinctions between the two?

I also have a lot of other problems when it comes to the way people try to differentiate OSDD from DID.

"OSDD means no amnesia":

How are you certain you don't experience amnesia? If you definitely know for a fact that you don't experience amnesia, I'm so curious how people know, how they figure it out. 'Cause amnesia is so fucking tricky and you can be so unaware of amnesia, it genuinely hides itself in.. A genuinely horrifying way.

What does it mean to truly not experience any kind of amnesia to meet the criteria for DID? I've always wondered this, mostly because my amnesia is quite severe (I'm very unaware of it, but I know it's quite severe, much more severe than I think) and I have no idea what it would be like, feel like, or look like to be a system without any amnesia at all whatsoever, and how you know you don't experience it and to then confirm in some way that you really don't experience amnesia. So I wonder what a system with OSDD without amnesia looks like/feels like. And how they know for sure they don't experience amnesia.

Because dissociative amnesia from DID includes a wide, wide, wide variety of experiences that are oftentimes really difficult to be aware of, in order for a diagnosis of OSDD-1 to depend on how much amnesia you experience or whether or not the person experiences amnesia, we would need to have a clearly outlined explanation of what amnesia is for BOTH disorders, what experiences "count" as amnesia/how "much" amnesia "counts for BOTH disorder, and I just don't think that kind of thing is really.. Possible. In order to claim that OSDD means that you don't meet the amnesia criteria for DID, we would need to understand what that amnesia criteria even IS for DID. And unfortunately amnesia is incredibly difficult to even notice sometimes and sometimes people will go years not knowing they have amnesia until an alter comes forward with traumatic memories that other alters don't remember. We'd need to know what really Counts as amnesia when it comes to DID, and if certain experiences count and others don't, why and why not?

"OSDD means minimal amnesia" is also included under this and it's something that really annoys me and is just not true. OSDD does not mean you experience "minimal" amnesia. How much amnesia you experience, how often your amnesia affects you, whether or not your amnesia feels like teleportation or not, whether or not your amnesia is something that largely affects your life or only affects it sometimes - these things have nothing to do with whether or not you have OSDD over DID. I want this idea to die already.

"OSDD means your alters aren't elaborated enough to be fully individual people":

I have so much to say about this.

I hate this! I hate this so much! It's spreading misinformation about OSDD AND DID and this belief has been used CONSTANTLY to discredit people's experiences. This belief has made people doubt that I have DID; it has made people try to push OSDD as a label for me over DID even though it has never felt fitting for me, and it has been used to discredit so many other people I've known too.

Repeat after me: your alters not being separate individuals with their own names, ages, distinct personalities, etc. DOESN'T MEAN YOU HAVE OSDD. THIS IS A NORMAL EXPERIENCE FOR DID SYSTEMS AND IT DOESN'T MEAN YOU HAVE OSDD INSTEAD OF DID. IT DOESN'T MEAN YOU AREN'T A SYSTEM AT ALL. IT DOESN'T MEAN THAT YOU HAVE IT "LESS BAD" THAN OTHER SYSTEMS. IT DOESN'T MEAN THAT YOUR ALTERS ARE NOT AND CANNOT BE THEIR OWN PEOPLE.

And on that note. This kind of thing has also always greatly confused me because the concept/idea of alter elaboration is a muddy way and well who is the one measuring this? Alter elaboration, I think, is not a linear spectrum where one end is "not elaborated at all" and the opposite end is "totally separate person." If OSDD means "less elaborated alters", I question what that means and who is measuring it - how will we measure alter elaboration in an accurate way in order to properly assess whether or not someone's alters are "elaborated enough" for a DID diagnosis?

Do you see why this is confusing and makes no sense to me?

If we are to say that OSDD is diagnosed PURELY based off of the fact that the person's alters are not elaborated enough for a DID diagnosis, we need to ask:

WHAT is alter elaboration? We need to define alter elaboration and know and understand what it is.

HOW do we measure alter elaboration? After we know what it is, we need to be able to "measure" it. How do you measure such a vague and fuzzy concept as "alter elaboration"?

HOW MUCH elaboration is 'required' to meet a DID diagnosis over an OSDD diagnosis?

And finally:

WHY?

WHY do we consider (xyz) experiences to be more elaborated than other experiences?

WHY are we measuring alter elaboration in this way - are there other ways to measure alter elaboration, and if so, is there any specific reason why we went this one way to measure it, rather than any other ways? Is that a good reason? A valid reason? Why? How do we know? Is it accurate and helpful and useful for differentiating DID from OSDD?

WHY are these things considered to be more elaboration over these things?

Because alter elaboration is a confusing, jumbled, muddy mess.

Some alters will have distinct body language, but they don't know they're an alter or anything like that, so they have no name or specific, unique personality, it might just seem like the individual person just has different body language when that alter fronts. Is that elaborated enough? Why, or why not?

What about a system with alters who have their own unique names and personalities, but otherwise have minimal differences - mostly share the same beliefs, feelings, opinions, likes, dislikes, etc. Are they elaborated enough to meet DID criteria? Why or why not?

If we are to assume that "OSDD means alters who aren't elaborated enough for a DID diagnosis" where the most elaborated alters means that two or more alters have unique and distinctly different voices, body language, names, personalities, etc. - the most overt system you can think of - then millions upon millions of people would have their diagnosis completely changed.

It would also mean many OSDD systems would get diagnosed with DID instead. A lot of the OSDD systems I've met fall on the more "overt" end of the spectrum where their alters are quite distinct with their own unique senses of self, names, personalities, etc. I've met more OSDD systems who match the stereotypes than I have DID systems - both diagnosed and self-diagnosed.

Everything I explained in this post is why when people try to ask me about the difference between DID and OSDD, I don't know what to tell you other than "it just means you don't meet the criteria for any other dissociative disorder."

I think about all of these things a lot because the way people treat DID and OSDD as if they're distinct, separate, unique disorders greatly confuses me and I myself don't understand the huge differences between OSDD-1 and DID, other than what I've read in the DSM-5 and other knowledge I've picked up. I would love to read more about OSDD, but it's near impossible to ever come across anything about OSDD specifically.

I think a lot about the concept of "alter elaboration" and how such a thing would be measured; why some experiences might be considered more elaborated than others; how the entire concept of it is greatly subjective and greatly dependent on your environment and how others perceive you - sometimes a highly elaborated alter might not be considered highly elaborated to one person, but be considered highly elaborated to another person.

I would like to make a few things clear as well:

I'm not saying that OSDD systems don't have their own unique, separate, and distinct experiences that other systems may not relate to.

OSDD as a diagnosis includes more than just OSDD systems, OSDD-1.

I'm not saying that OSDD is a pointless, useless diagnosis, or that people with OSDD are just "DID systems who don't realize" or "DID systems who think they have OSDD" or any other combination of similar phrasing. It's incredibly frustrating when people try to assert OSDD as a label onto me and I'd never want to do the same for OSDD systems the other way around (try to assert the DID label onto them when they don't feel it fits, try to convince them that they have DID and not OSDD, etc.).

[prsk-krow]

I have a funny idea!

But first of all, I am addicted to your blog rn

Anyways to maks things quick, I would like to request a (Ena x Reader) (Mafuyu x reader) where Reader constantly gets nightmares ever since they were a child and has gotten used to it to the point that they think its normal? They'll make jokes about it and be confused why everyone is looking at them concerned. When Reader casually told the gals that they had another very gory(?) nightmare as if it's just another normal day, and then, Reader tries to guess what kind of nightmare they'll get later tonight, completely normal. (Mafuyu) (Ena) then just looks at Reader with a questioned/conerned look.

Once again, lowering the characteristic a bit to not step into crack territory! Caw.

{Mafuyu/Ena with Reader desensitized to nightmares!}

Mafuyu Asahina

Mafuyu had always been desensitized to a lot of emotion inducing experiences, like mystery horror tours or the stress before a test. It wasn't a surprise for her anymore to see the difference in her reactions to the rest of the people around her.

So she was interested to see what her friends thought about or felt about the world around them, in the form of questions. This was especially true whenever they told her about things like past events or experiences, much like your nightmares!

Whenever she asked anyone about nightmares, she remembers how uncomfortable or scared the voices of her coworkers get when telling the experiences. From their descriptions, Mafuyu can understand the fear factors in these visions, much like their reactions in the mystery tour.

So whenever you talked about your unnaturally common nightmares as if you were desensitized... Wait, were you actually desensitized like her? That wasn't what she expected out of you!

"Hm. So, it's a common thing, huh? And thanks to the common occurrences, you're used to it. I see, how... Interesting... Ah, excuse me, you're getting me thinking."

It gets Mafuyu thinking about her own state, how common occurrences got her to a worse degree of numbness than yours. It gets her to ask about your nightmares every single day, something unusual for her: Curiosity.

Listening to your tales of what your mind conjures up isn't the most fascinating of ways to spend her time, but it's progress that she wishes to make to understand her emotional situation. Perhaps, with you, she could take a step in the right direction...

Ena Shinonome

Ena's creativity can play a lot of tricks on her, especially in the form of occasional nightmares and dreams that are of the most bizarre kinds. It's no wonder then that; for one of the most easily scared members of N25; she wouldn't like the concept of nightmares at all...

Sometimes, the topic would arise in Nightcord discussions, and it would certainly make her the most uncomfortable, as the other scaredy cat in the ground didn't sleep (well) enough to get them!

It did get her to desire someone else to share her troubles about it with, so she decides to talk about it with you, hoping to find someone else to sympathize with about the ordeal! But the response that she receives is way different from what she expected...

"... Wait, e-eh? What do you mean, i-it's so bloody you can't e-explain it?? And what's with that expression!? Almost as if they didn't happen-... But then, why are your s-stories so detailed..."

She is in denial at first, as you quickly realize how you can use this reaction of hers to your advantage. Enter many days afterwards of telling her about your nightmares with every detail possible without her asking for it.

You have never seen Ena so frustrated, yet so helpless that she can't even start screaming at you or scolding you! And the rest of Nightcord pick up on it: Whenever they accompany Ena, expect her teasing coworker to ask about your latest dreamworld experience.

Soon enough, you'll run out of material and have to slow down a bit to make sure to keep it up. She finds your dedication to the bit annoying, and does plan to get even with you someday...

Interesting, I didn't expect to write so much Mafuyu... Gotta keep it in mind, caw.

[abigail-pent]

it makes me really sad to see the amount of blogs I've unfollowed or (in rare cases) blocked because they keep reblogging content that has dipped way too far into the antisemitism or Hamas apologism end of things. there are a bunch of cases where I've been like.... hmmm... this blog is on thin ice with me but I'll keep them around even though we don't always see eye to eye, because I can tell this person wants peace too even though they express this differently than I would. but eventually the ice melts or breaks and suddenly that blog has content on it that's disinformation, or glorification of entities that have done nothing but contribute to the conflict, or rape denialism, or Holocaust inversion, or something that looks like it came right out of a 1930s antisemitic propaganda piece, or or or. and like. I do not have the energy to fight with, or educate, strangers on the internet. I don't pour my time into losing battles or advertise my inbox to the trolls they attract. I am but a simple yid who wants to see peace in my lifetime, who thinks the assault on Gaza is both horrific and counterproductive, and who is aghast at how quickly and thoroughly so many people who I thought shared my values have suddenly and gleefully gone full mask-off antisemitic. it's like a tidal wave of hate directed at people who have no control or direct tie to the conflict. the ignorance is stunning, the hatred is stunning, the refusal to apply principles to us that would otherwise be applied to any other marginalized group - also stunning. this has changed the way I interact with others on the internet and offline. because sometimes when you say things like "I just think nobody deserves what has been happening to them" your brunch companion will look at you across the table and ask which side you're talking about, and then you'll never be sure of your relationship to them again.

on the flip side. it gives me such a boost when fandom friend blogs reblog e.g. Standing Together content from me. like really it is such a beautiful antidote to seeing people share Hamas apologism. thank you - you know who you are ❤️

[khaleesiofalicante]

I have so many exams this month and I don't have the time to read your updates or do anything other than study which is really annoying so I can't go on a rant about everything (even though I really want to) . I would just like to say 2 things based on a few parts of the chapter I managed to read.

1) I live in a state of denial. Denial is when you believe that Kincaid and Arthur belong together and will eventually (in their 20-30s) find their way back to each other and never get separated again🥰

2) ARTHUR FINALLY KNOWS AND UNDERSTANDS HOW MUCH HIS PARENTS LOVE EACH OTHER AND THAT GIVES ME THE STRENGTH TO GET THROUGH THESE CURSED EXAMS(almost😭)

2.5) Lance isn't as puzzled as Arthur about why they broke up which tells me he thinks he knows the reason and its his fault and he's baby DAVID TELL YOUR LOVED ONES THE TRUTH(Petiton for Jackson to smack some sense into him)

Ps: Nobody should talk about Max when David's driving honestly, Arthur mentions Max thinks David hates him and he almost hit the brakes, Jaden mentioned that Max was moving on from him with Mona and he hit the gas pedal so hard they almost died in a car crash, David sweety calm your obsessed little tushy you'll die in a car accident

Okay that's it for now, until exams are over, hope you're okay and getting some rest byeee🌷

Thank you, baby. I hope you have some time for self care and rest. Exams can be physically and emotionally exhausting. So, please remember to stay hydrated and kept enough sleep and relax your kind. (I know these are obvious about sometimes you gotta remind people 😤)

And mr david beauchamp shouldn’t be allowed to drive period lmao

Here is a tiktok that reminds me of Lance 😭😭

[majesticwren]

Remind Me How the Birds Sing (ChrissyxEddie)

A/N: Hello everyone ✨ I have no idea what this is. I've got struck by an idea today and here we are now. I have kind of a specific project for this, so there will be more parts coming because I NEED MORE CHRISSYXEDDIE STUFF. !Edit: this is now a reissue of the prelude since the entire project is fundamentally entirely different from what I had planned yesterday. So, back again, I hope you'll enjoy! P.S. The intro it's basically the same but I'll mark with a ~ the point where the entire scene was set and changed.!

Summary: Inexplicably a connection exists between Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie Munson that bonds them even after "death do us apart". Even being lost to what Chrissy believes to be the afterlife, her path crosses Eddie's, once again bringing them close, despite existing on two different planes of existence.

Trigger Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Chrissy is a Ghost, Afterlife Concept, Mention of Death, Mention of Violence, Mention of Suffering, Mention of Drugs and Drugs Consumption, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Spoilers

Part 1 | Part 2

Words: 2k

Gif by: Tagged

Playlist

Part 0 - Prelude.

At first, there was fear.

An uncontrollable, frenzied, bone-gnawing and paralyzing feeling like no other she had ever experienced.

She had been scared before, sure. She remembered when Jason and his mates organised a movie night at the cinema to go watch Poltergeist. She hadn’t slept for days after that.

Or like the time she was way younger, scared of dark corners and clowns.

But nothing had ever been as frightful as the horrendous sentiment that had been chasing her throughout the last days of her life.

It was made of cold sweat and shivering skin, nerve-wracking insomnia or dreadful nightmares. Every time she got a glimpse of unnamed shadows crawling in the corner of her eye, shortness of breath would clutch her chest.

She was never at ease, never resting.  

Her stomach was contorted by never-ending nausea and sometimes – most of the time, it would peak into making her so sick she felt her insides could tear.

It was torture.

During that time, she found herself praying to everything that was holy to have mercy on her. To give her the chance to amend for whatever evil-doing she could have done to deserve such a punishment.

But then she would hear the tremendous echo of an off-pitch, old-kind pendulum clock and every time she knew: death was coming.

She didn’t know precisely how she knew, but she was certain of it. Still, mostly because of denial and partly because she didn’t have any intention to succumb to her fate, she did try and find an escape.

Even in all of that, she did find a moment of solace. Some peace and light, even hope in the darkness that her life became throughout those last, terrible days.

There, where she had never thought in a million years she would have found it, turning to the last person she ever thought she would have sought for her silent request for help, Eddie Munson. With his big, round, dark eyes and his wide and kind smile.

People called him a freak and she always heard so many terrible things about him… However, when she met him, she didn’t see any of that. He shined a light that made her feel warm for the first time in so long that she wasn’t even sure she had ever felt that way.

Even if they only exchanged a few words and she, Chrissy Cunningham, queen of Hawkins High, was turning to her last resort, fumbling into her darkness ready to try any mean necessary to make it all stop. And that would have been drugs. Still, Eddie became someone she knew she couldn’t let go of.

Before she could find an escape, death caught up with her.

Not before pain though.

Even if she could not feel much anymore if not long-gone echoes of memories, she could still hear the noise of her own bones snapping, while her muscles and skin tore.

She remembered being paralysed. She couldn’t cry. She couldn’t scream.

It was a demon that had been following her. And that being greeted her at her death, trapping her soul in his clutch all the while promising it was time to end it all, that all of her pain would have gone away… That unhuman, forsaken creature born from nightmares and curses damned her soul.

Her only consolation was that she didn’t die alone. Of all the people she died right in front of Eddie, which turned out to be a sad, cold comfort. In a way soothing.

The source of such an evil, the being that murdered her did not lie though. The pain stopped.

Everything stopped.

Now everything was only black and silent.

To the point that for a time that both felt like a second and a million years, Chrissy thought that couldn’t possibly be the afterlife. And yet it appeared to be so.

She was gone. Not existing.

Gone.

Forever.

And she was floating above every emotion or conception to be scared or to feel lonely.

Yet, if she looked down, she could see her own hands and legs. She was still wearing her cheerleading uniform. Her skin wasn’t scarred or bruised. Her joints and bones weren’t broken.

She didn’t feel anything yet she had a physical shape.

Maybe it was only her imagination. Maybe that was a way to process it all. And one day she would have faded, as her consciousness and soul, were eaten, absorbed by the abyss that surrounded her.

She always thought the afterlife would have been made of light and peace. She even thought that spirits could still visit earth, to guide them or to just pass eternity.

Yes, Chrissy believed in ghosts even if the thought of it scared her when she was alive.

But she was clearly wrong.

There was no light, no angels singing or soft clouds to rest upon.

Only nothingness.

Time was impossible to comprehend in the black space she found herself being lost into. She didn’t know where she was nor when or how. She didn’t even have a guarantee that she was something at all.

Was she existing? Must have been, or her own thoughts seem to be such a waste to fill the darkness surrounding her.

But how could she exist when she was dead? Furthermore, how could she be existing when she felt one with the infinite nothingness surrounding her?

Sometimes her own thoughts seemed to have the ability to break her. Other times it soothed her to know she could still have an idea of self – and memories.

She loved to remember things like the sound of rain or the smell of chocolate chip pancakes – not that she was ever allowed to eat them, but she remembered their taste from the mornings of her birthdays when she was a child.

She remembered songs. Not that she knew much more than the rhythm of the bits or some words from the chorus… Unless it was Rhiannon, by Fleetwood Mac, that one she remembered so well she would find herself softly singing it, even dancing to it from time to time, when she felt like it.

Other times she remembered stuff like the weight of her pompoms or the feeling of fresh cotton sheets on her skin.

Memories didn’t come with the assumed melancholy or guilt, it felt more like an embrace.

Even being so unsure of her new state of existence, Chrissy thought many times it wasn’t unbearable, it wasn’t so bad… She could have gotten used to it.

After all, she always liked her own company and being alone, she didn’t mind embracing eternity that way.

And then, all of a sudden, just when she started to get acquainted with such thoughts and her new reality, with no notice or explanation, her world of pitch-black nothing shifted.

~ Something changed, as soft as the beat of butterfly wings through the air and yet as mighty as an earthquake shaking the ground.

She looked around, for once with the true intention to spot something, looking for the source of that energy change.

She even found herself holding her breath as a weird feeling tingled in her chest. Was it anticipation or was it fear?

Something else changed.

She felt as if her feet touched the ground - or whatever form of it. She was now standing as if somehow, she had a physical form. Or as if never before she perceived she was actually upright, under the influence of a form of gravity.

"Hello?" She called hesitantly.

Her voice echoed through the emptiness bounding her.

The longer silence surrounded her following her question, the more she found herself being disappointed.

But then again, how could she expect something had changed or ever would? She was dead.

For some reason that thought made her giggle.

Chrissy looked down, frowning.

If nothing changed, why could she suddenly feel the weight on that surface?

She tested it, taking a small step forward, feeling the ground under her shoes, only then realising it was covered by a thin layer of water.

She tapped the tip of her foot, splish-splashing in the paddle she stood into.

She had no way to see how big it was. Or if it had any edges at all.

But then again, she didn't mind it. Every time she tapped her foot, the water would make a soft, wet sound that filled the void around her.

It was nice. Pleasant. It made her feel... Something.

Somehow, she didn't mind the silence and the loneliness before, but now, because of that tiny shift in her condition, she recognised that such a small sound and ability to feel gave her the chance to become more courageous. Hopeful even.

As her emotions seemed to shake off the drapes of hibernation, she realised that much, much more had changed in the blink of an eye.

She could hear the loud and steady pace of her own heart beating.

How could that be possible, she didn't know. Maybe it was only memory and imagination. Maybe it worked in the same way as the reason why she could still perceive herself in her own body.

But the longer she listened the clearer it became that those weren't the only new sounds she could hear.

Another heartbeat echoed through the still air.

At first far, bearably there. But the more attention she paid to it, the louder it became, reaching her ears as if it came from her own chest.

A pounding beating, accelerated and desperate.

And the more she listened, moving blindly through an indefinite direction, trying to get closer, the more she heard. And felt.

In her own chest started to vibrate an almost forgotten sense of adrenaline and trepidation.

Soon the mysterious, foreign heartbeat shifted, becoming an echoing, equally rhythmic noise of a rushed, heavy pacing.

It was more than a hurried stride.

Someone was running. And it felt very much like it was coming towards her.

Chrissy didn't know what surrounded her. She imagined it to be the afterlife but, in all truth, she had never been sure to be truly alone.

Yet, she didn't react with fear to the sudden ravaging awareness that something was charging in the shadows in her direction.

No, she wasn't scared. But hopeful, curious... How much worse could she endure than death itself? Anything different from what she already met and acquainted with was good.

Even welcomed.

Then, right in front of her, literally appearing out of thin air, materialised a person.

Chrissy choked on her own breath from the surprise and the slight scare such a sudden vision gave her.

It took her a moment to focus on who stood right in front of her.

"E-Eddie?" She hesitated, unsure about her own words, incapable to believe her own eyes.

Was it really him?

How?

Why?

If he was there, did it mean he also died?

His expression looked so different from how she remembered him the last time she saw him... He looked lost in the depth of despair, so scared fear had turned his skin a grey-off colour.

He was out of breath. Every time he gasped for more air it seemed to be extremely painful.

Chrissy moved closer while he tried to catch his breath and strength to recover from the unbearable strain he must have been under.

"Eddie?" She called for him again trying to get his attention.

He didn't seem to see her. Or hear her.

In fact, he looked right through her, as if she wasn’t there at all.

It all didn't last longer than a minute. He immediately started to run again, passing her.

If she didn't have a clue of what was happening and why or how such a cataclysmic event took place, she also didn't have any intention to lose time thinking about it, risking losing a chance - whatever that might have been.

So, she followed him.