#it's buggin me though | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zalayni · 10 months

Text

𓂃 💫 ੭ ᝢ SUGAR ༉

spendin' all my nights alone waiting for you to call me. you're the only one I want by my side when I fall asleep 💤

❛ pairing: earth42!miles x reader

❛ summary: after a long day there's nothing better than having your lover help you as you do your night time routine, no matter how girly it might be.

❛ warnings: the lower caps are intended. reader uses she/her pronouns.

❛ author's note: this is supposed to be longer but I lost everything and had to restart it from scratch. also this isn't proofread what so ever. I live like a warrior i'll die like a warrior 🫡🫡(I'm too lazy to read alat)

if anybody told Miles from when he was new to being prowler that he would be sitting in his room, wiping a girls makeup off specifically HIS girls makeup off he'd just tell them. “man you're buggin.”

yet here he was.

after a long day of standing around with music blasting in your ear while people laughed in the background you were finally back alone with Miles. it was silent but at the same time it was comforting. Miles was there kneeling infront of you, wiping your makeup off as you sat on the vanity chair he had bought and installed in his room along with the hello kitty mirror he saw people hyping up on tiktok.

don't get it mixed up though Miles would never use that vanity, he bought it for you. he filled up the drawers with makeup and products he'd see you use just for you. he did all of this because all he wished was for you to feel at home with him.

he went through the hard work of building and putting up the parts by himself as he was too embarrassed to ask uncle aaron or his mom for help. what would uncle aaron say if miles would randomly come in his home saying “help me build this pretty pink and white vanity I just bought.”

you always crashed at his place or miles would crash at yours. either way he always insisted on helping you with your nightly routine.

"all done Mami, now go wash up. I'll get your pajamas from the laundry." Miles attempted to get up before getting stopped by your hands pulling him down to peck his cheek. you pulled away while muttering a thank you.

Miles smirked at you while getting up.

"yeah, no problem. anything for my girl."

miles was the sweetest person to ever come into your life. who knew Brooklyn's number one killer would be such a lover boy? maybe it's because of the fact that he's always been a mamas boy growing up.

you finished up your shower, wrapping the towel around your body before a knock echoed through the bathroom. "ma, can I come in? I've got your pajamas." you quickly opened the door to see Miles standing there with your pink pajama set in his hands.

he stared at your figure watching as water droplets still slowly rolled down your body.

"Morales you're staring at me." you playfully said while side eyeing before taking the clothes out of his hands. Miles huffed and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you closer silencing your giggles with a kiss.

"whatever ma you're trippin' I wasn't even staring you're just reading into it too much. even if I was can you blame me? I bagged such a pretty girlfriend."

Miles eyed you down once again before leaning close to your ear. "maybe even future wife."

ugh what a tease. yet everytime he did this you felt butterflies in your stomach.

he chuckled before exiting the bathroom leaving you there staring at his back, stunned. you shook it off with a laugh and got dressed so you could be back in his arms.

you brushed your teeth and did your skincare that Miles would always restock on. you felt bad as they were pricey but he would always insist on buying them for you.

you hanged the towel on the rack to dry and exited the bathroom, practically speed walking to Miles room. once you opened the door you were met with Miles laying comfortably on his bed with nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants on. He had his arms up with his phone in his hands scrolling on whatever socials he was checking up on.

you closed his bedroom door before crawling in between his arms, laying your head on his chest. Miles sighed and put down his phone, wrapping his arms around you. He pecked the top of your head making you look up at him. "long day?" you asked him making miles suck his teeth.

"tch. ma you were there with me, yes the function was fun but of course my mom had to make us stay till past midnight talking about some ‘hold on we'll leave after I'm done talking.’" you laughed at him mimicking his mom's voice whole repeating what she would keep saying during the function.

mrs morales loved you so she told Miles to invite you to their family's function as his date which you gladly said yes to.

the day was long and your feet might've ached from all the standing as every seat was taken up, your stomach might've hurt from all the aunties insisting on you to eat more but at the end of day you got to see Miles smile, and it wasn't because of you. for some that was the rarest sight to witness.

after the death of his dad Miles drifted away from everyone but here he was laughing and bickering with his favourite cousins. he was actually playing his favorite sport, basketball for once and laughing whenever he'd steal the ball from his cousins.

you witnessed Miles grow as a person and slowly pick up broken pieces. it was truly heart warming.

here you laid in the dead of night, ear on Miles chest hearing his soft heartbeat with your eyes closed. you were calm yet your head was racing with thoughts. you decided to break the silence after awhile of listening to his breathing pattern and heartbeats. "hey Miles, I'm not sure if you're asleep but I have a question."

it was silent for awhile making you think Miles fell asleep before you could ask it but then he answered. "go ahead Mami, I'm listening."

"would you give the world to me?" you looked up at him only to see his half lidded eyes staring down at you. "mhmm no."

your heart dropped at his answer, lips close to quivering, but the hard beating of your heart slamming against your chest was calmed down with what you heard him say afterwards.

"hermosa, why would I do that when there's other planets too?"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

please do not steal, copy, translate or put my work on any other apps. thank you for reading 🫶

artwork in header made by koscribbls on instagram

#miles morales #miles g morales #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x reader #miles morales imagine #earth42 miles morales #earth42 miles #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x you #atsv #across the spiderverse #atsv imagines #earth 42 miles morales x you

3K notes · View notes

dancingtotuyo · 14 days

Text

10. hold you from the world and it's curse

Woman | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: You begin to come to terms with things. Ellie struggles with the limits of her immunity.

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: pregnancy related things, angst, hurt & comfort, self worth issues, Character Death, references to canon violence and gore, talk about guns & shooting people (mercifully), lots of grief, anger,

Notes: huge thank you to my constants, my rocks @ramblers-lets-get-ramblinand @janaispunk for beta reading and letting me yell and scream and break their hearts.

If you have checked out Before, I would encourage you to do so for more backstory on our dear reader! The final part is out now!

Words: 4933

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

When Maria was pregnant, she unashamedly let her bump grow in front of the gaze of the town. It came on with the winter months but she kept her coats unbuttoned and off while inside. She was excited, cherishing it all, marking and sharing milestones as she could. You don’t do any of it. You keep your bulky coats zipped and make sure your layers disguise your growing abdomen.

It’s not a secret by any means, but you know even in the tight-knit community of Jackson there are still people who don’t know as you approach your 23rd week of pregnancy, even if you feel twice as large at this stage as you did during your first pregnancy. It’s been getting easier to keep the layers on as the temperature falls and Christmas approaches.

But it’s only a few days from Christmas, and there’s a dance. You’ve fallen in love with the dances again. While it’s a relatively casual event as everything in Jackson is, you’re not prancing in there in your worn leggings and layered jacket. The body heat flowing between the dancing bodies is more than enough without your layer. With the extra heat you’re producing on your own, you’re sure you’d pass out in 20 minutes.

You have one option: the dress with quarter-length sleeves and a skirt that hits your knees. You basically lived in that dress when pregnant with Carter, but it accentuates your condition. That’s the last thing you’re ready for, the stares, the questions, the congratulations. You feel a vein of guilt rush through you. You shouldn’t dread people congratulating you on this.

You rest your hand on top of your swollen stomach. You’re starting to feel the baby move more often. It’s just as weird as it was with Carter, but it still sends a little thrill through you each time.

Joel walks out of the bathroom to find you sitting on the bed in his sweatshirt staring at the closet like a monster might come barreling out at any given moment. “Sweetheart,” he says. “It’s almost time to go.”

You bite at your thumbnail, the closet mocking you. It’s just a dress. Why does it feel like so much more? “We don’t have to go. Let’s just stay in.”

“After you bribed Morgan with heaven and earth to watch Carter?” He crosses his arms, eyebrows raised.

“We could just stay here? Do other things.” You shoot him a suggestive wink.

Joel seems to consider it for a moment. He surprisingly enjoys the dances. There’s something about the semblance of normalcy, and the night he kissed you in front of the whole town is a fond memory, but he likes being alone with you more. He sees through it though. You’re avoiding something.

Easing next to you, his shoulder brushes yours. He gazes at your profile as you keep your eyes pinned to the closet door. His fingertips brush along your cheek rounding behind your ear. “What’s actually buggin you?”

Chewing your lip, you finally meet his gaze, unshed tears shimmering in your eyes. “If I put on that dress, everyone is gonna know.”

He sighs, arm wrapping around your shoulders. You lean into him, your heart rate slowing. “We can’t avoid it forever.”

“I know. I just thought I could for longer.”

“Baby, you’re over halfway there,” Joel cracks a smile. “And I promise that most of the town already knows.”

“Yeah, but they don’t officially know.”

Joel wraps his arm around you, letting his hand fall over the one that rests on your bump. “We have to face it sooner or later. Maybe even embrace it?” He kisses your temple. He manages to pull a slight smile from your lips.

He rubs your arm softly as your head eases to his shoulder. “I’d really like to spin you around that dance floor, kiss ya for everyone to see. We don’t have to go for long, but I think you’ll feel better.”

You inhale deeply, nodding softly. “Help me up. I’ll get dressed.”

“Now I know you’re not that pregnant.” He grins, standing before you and pulling you to your feet anyway.

You laugh, arms wrapping around his shoulders. You sway, pressed against him for a few seconds. Your lips press against his and then he’s pressing against your hips, directing you toward the closet. “Get dressed, Sweetheart.”

He kisses your head and slips out of the bedroom. You steady yourself with a deep breath before finally opening the closet. You can do this.

Carter is sitting on Joel’s lap as he reads him a book. Morgan preps a light snack in the kitchen. You haven’t worn a dress in ages. This is the only one you own. You traded the others ages ago.

Carter sees you first, letting out a soft gasp. “Mommy, you look so pretty!”

Joel’s head snaps up, the book lowering in front of him. Carter jumps off Joel’s lap, rushing toward you. You laugh, going to your knee to accept his hug. He’s still small enough for you to pick up and spin around, squeezing him tightly too you. He laughs as you pepper his cheek with kisses. “You’re gonna listen to Miss Morgan, right?” You stare right into his eyes, keeping him at eye level with you.

Carter nods with a great solemness. His big eyes sparkle in the light, his nose pressed to yours. His bright eyes are so close to yours, so reminiscent of Gabe’s. It sends a soft ache through you that he doesn’t get to be here for these moments. “Daddy already made me promise.”

“Did he?” A grin captures your lips as you glance over to Joel.

Joel rises from the couch with a chuckle, adjusting his jeans over his hips.

“Mhmm,” Carter says, kissing your nose before he slides to the ground. He rushes off toward the kitchen. “Miss Morgan? Is my snack ready?”

Joel laughs, watching the child disappear before sliding his arms around your midsection. “You look beautiful, but that’s nothing new.”

Heat floods your cheeks. Once again you’re smiling like a flustered schoolgirl. “You gonna take me out, Miller?”

“Tempted to take you upstairs.” He winks. His hands travel down your back to your ass. No underwear lines, just as he expected to find. One of these days he’s going to figure out what you have against the damn garment. The last thing he needs to know is that you’re bare under the skirt, that when he spins you around tonight and your skirt spins you’ll feel the air moving against you.

You let out a laugh, pushing against his shoulders. “Too late for that, Miller. I put on the dress. We’re going.” You head toward the kitchen.

Joel lets out a groan trailing behind you. You give Morgan a few instructions, but she’s familiar with the routine by now. “I love you,” You kiss Carter’s cheek as he eats at the table. “Mommy and Daddy will be back after you go to sleep.”

“I know.” Carter grins proudly, face scrunching up slightly. “Love you, Mommy.”

Joel leans down, kissing Carter’s other cheek. “You behave.”

Carter cheese again, kissing both your cheeks in quick succession. “Love you, Daddy.”

“Love you too, bud.” He chuckles softly.

Joel pushes you toward the door, helping you into your warmest coat before you can find a way to stall. Your legs freeze on the way to the Tipsy Bison, cool air shooting right up your skirt. This might be the first time you’ve regretted your commitment to not wearing underwear.

Joel’s hand stays pressed to your back on the short walk over as if he’s trying to keep you from making a break to the safety of your home but The Tipsy Bison welcomes you in with warmth and vibrance, drowning out all your fears. When Joel helps you out of your coat, something amazing happens. The world keeps spinning. People go about their evening, seemingly oblivious to your arrival and your announcement. Throughout the night, you get a few stares and a few congratulations, you take them all with grace.

After exhausting you on the dance floor, your stamina not what it was thanks to your pregnancy, Joel guides you toward a back corner. Chairs line the wall but few people mill about on the outskirts.

“I’ll go get you some water,” Joel says, kissing your warm cheeks.

You smile at him as he weaves through the throngs of people. Before you can sit down, you catch sight of Ellie further down the line of chairs. She watches, arms resting on her knees, the cheer of the night like an outsider looking in, the rush and thrill of the night ineffective against her armor.

You tilt your head to the side before approaching. You ease beside her, letting out a soft sigh. You hook your foot under the legs of a stray chair to pull it closer so you have a place to prop your feet. Ellie doesn’t acknowledge you. She makes no movements that indicate she’s even aware of your presence.

You follow her line of sight to the opposing corner. Dina and Jesse are flirting like all of Jackson doesn’t have eyes. Cat rolls her eyes at something Chris Lamer says to her, a playful insult likely rolling off her lips. The sight brings a smile to your lips. At least within these walls, they can act like teenagers.

“You’re not feeling very social tonight?”

Ellie lets out a sigh, falling back in her chair. She shoves her hair behind her shoulder. It’s getting longer than you’ve ever seen it. She shrugs. “Just not feeling it tonight.”

“Wish I’d known that before I bribed Morgan to watch Carter.” You offer a teasing grin. She doesn’t return it, crossing her arms over her chest as she shifts in her seat. Your brow furrows. “What’s up, Ellie?”

She bristles, taking her time to find words. “You look nice tonight.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“People do that when they don’t wanna talk about things.”

“Which usually means they should talk about things.”

She glances over at you, unamused. You smile back, but she doesn’t say a word, letting her eyes fall back over to her friends.

“You know,” you say. “I didn’t want to come tonight.”

She looks surprised. “You and Joel love these things.”

“Yeah…” You nod, eyes scanning over the crowd. “But I can’t really hide this anymore.” You motion to your swollen abdomen. “Especially not in this dress. Which is about the only thing that fits me now.”

Her eyes flicker over to you, landing on your bump. You catch something in her eyes. “I thought you’d gotten used to it.”

“Don’t know that that’ll ever happen,” you sigh.

“Even with Joel moving in?”

That’s when it clicks. The changes. You should’ve known, or guessed. Joel brought the last of his things over last week. Ellie decided early on to stay in Joel’s house, or her house now.

“Ellie, if you’ve changed your mind-”

“No,” she cuts you off. “I haven’t- at least I don’t think I have.” She bites her lip, frame ridgid. “Guess I didn’t think it would feel any different. He basically lived over there already.”

“But his things are gone now.”

Her eyes snap to yours like you’ve hit the nail on the head. Her eyes look shiny under the Christmas lights strung from the rafters. She blinks a couple times.

“I didn’t think I’d miss that damn owl mug so much. I used to hate the way its eyes followed me when I was in the kitchen.”

A laugh tips out of your mouth. “Glad to hear it. I’ll smuggle it back over to you.”

Ellie’s head shakes, a smile pushing against the edges of her face. “Hell no. I said I missed it, not that I wanted it back in my house.”

The two of you laugh together until a comfortable silence forms between you. You feel like there might be another layer, but you’ve pushed as much as you can tonight surrounded by people. She’s smiling, the tension gone from her body, and that’s the most important thing right now.

“Change is hard.” Ellie says.

“So damn hard.” You agree. “Don’t make yourself a stranger, okay? I know you’re like kind of an adult in this world and a certified homeowner now.” You wink at her and she laughs with a shake of her head. “But we still want you around as much as we did. Really even more.”

“So you’re not tired of me?” she asks. She’s joking, but you catch the hint of a real question, that soft need for assurance.

Your arm wraps around her shoulders, tugging her close. “Never. I mean, who else is gonna talk to Carter about space. That shit goes right over my head.” She laughs, head falling onto your shoulder. “But in all seriousness, I don’t think I’d ever get tired of you, Ellie. You’re my family.”

“Guess I’m not very good at this family stuff.”

“We’re all still learning.”

She nods softly, waiting just a few seconds before pulling away. She looks better, lighter. Her eyes land over on her group of friends, seemingly glued to one particular female. You look between them, a knowing grin on your face. “You know, I think she’d say yes if you asked her to dance.”

Ellie’s eyes snap to you, confusion dancing in them.

“I’ve known you for years, my dear. You can’t hide much from me.”

She bites her lip as Joel finally materializes out of the crowd with your water in hand. “Sorry it took me so long. Adam was trying to rope me into trouble.”

You raise an eyebrow suspiciously.

“Stayed out of it. Cross my heart, darlin.” He leans down to kiss your cheek.

“You two are gross.” Ellie teases as she stands, stretching her arms above her head.

“Promise I can make it even grosser.” Joel chuckles, easing into the chair next to you.

“That’s not even a word.” You roll your eyes, swatting him away from you. He only laughs more, arm settling across the back of your chair, finger tips twisting and turning lightly across your shoulder.

“As much as I’d hate to see that,” Ellie says, taking a step back. She’s returned to her usual, playful self. “I’m going to join my friends.” With that, she dashes off.

You and Joel talk in hushed tones, playful flirting firing between you. He’s distracting you, definitely trying to seduce you, and it’s working. As he pulls you through the crowd, you’re surprised to see Ellie dancing with Cat.

You’re in the clinic the next afternoon when she bursts in looking wide eyed and terrified. She reminds you of the 14 year old you met two and half years ago. Your heart drops to your stomach. She was on patrol. They weren’t due back until tomorrow.

“Ellie, what-”

She collides with your chest, sobs shaking her small frame. Your arms fly around her, holding her close. Your brain wracks through names and faces. Who was she with? Who did your community lose this time? But your brain won’t work, can’t piece together who you’ve seen today tucked within the safety of the clinic and who you haven’t.

Eventually, she pulls away, eye red and swollen, cheeks flushed from crying and wind chapped. She doesn’t look any closer to sanity than when she walked in. Her eyes search frantically about.

“Ellie,” you say firmly, trying to capture her attention. She doesn’t seem to notice, slipping through your fingers when you attempt to grab her shoulders.

She scrounges through a bin until she feels the cool metal of scissors. The metal flashes in the clinic lights. She slams them down on the counter. “Cut it.”

“Cut what?” You’re confused and worried, your mind spinning as you’re still trying to process who was lost today, two days before Christmas. “Ellie-”

“My hair!” Tears stream down her hair. “I should’ve never let it get this long- I don’t even like it- and now-” Another sob breaks through, her voice cracking.

You pull her back into your arms. She fights against you. “Please, just cut it off!” She’s desperate, barely hanging on. “I want it gone.”

“Okay.” You say. “Okay. Sit down.”

She plops onto the nearest chair, eyes fixed on the letters of the eye chart straight ahead. It’s silent, nothing except the snip of the sheers. You could hear a pin drop, can hear her long tresses drop to the floor. You take it to her shoulders, about where it was when you first met her. This isn’t the first time you’ve cut her hair, but it feels like the most impactful.

“Shorter.” She says.

You place your fingers midway between her shoulders and earlobes. She shakes her head. You move a little further up and still another shake of her head. You repeat it until your fingers are right under her earlobes. Finally, you get a nod.

You hand her a hand mirror when you’re finished. She looks it over. It suits her, you think, makes her look older.

“Thanks.”

“Ellie?”

She hears the question in your voice, knows what you’re asking. She’s not sure if she can manage the words to describe the pictures looping through her mind.

“We ran into a couple infected. Got most of them except for one. I- my hair got caught on a bush.”

She holds eye contact with your reflection in the mirror. She shakes her head, the tears return. “I told Chris to go. I could handle it.”

You shudder. These are always hard, no remains to bring home, very little closure. You know first hand what it’s like, but losing teenagers on patrol is the hardest, losing someone Ellie’s age brings the danger too close.

“He came back. Put his arm in front of its mouth when it went to bite me.”

“Fuck…” it’s out of your mouth before your brain catches up.

“I told him to leave me. I had my knife. I would’ve been fine.” It's barely a whisper, her hands shake.

“Ellie.” You reach out to take the mirror from her but she slams it to the ground. It shatters.

“I would’ve been fine!” Her body shakes with all the rage it can hold, angry tears stream down her cheeks. “I had to shoot him! I would’ve been fine, but now he’s dead instead!”

You pull her into you. She tries to fight it, but you don’t let go this time, not until her tears dry up and her body stops shaking. When she pulls back, you cup her cheeks. Her voice is hoarse, scratching her throat until she settles for a whisper. “I have to do something. This can’t keep happening.”

“Ellie, it’s not your fault.”

“I think it is this time.”

Your heart breaks for her, because you see the determination set in her eyes. She’s convinced and there’s not a single thing you can say or do to change her mind.

“I could fix this. I could save people! What’s the point of everything? Why was I made immune? To watch everyone get infected and die around me?!”

“What happened to Chris wasn’t your fault.”

“He tried to save me because he thought I needed it! And then I had to put a bullet in his head. There was no reason!”

“You didn’t kill him. Cordyceps did.”

“Are you sure? Or is that just what you tell yourself so you don’t get mad at Maria for killing your husband?”

Your breath catches in your chest. You know she doesn’t mean it, but it stings. It digs deep. You had blamed her at one point, spat the words in her face, but you push it away. You apologized. She granted forgiveness. You don’t blame her anymore.

Her eyes burn with a rage you’ve never seen. You see the guilt weighing on her. You’re not sure she’ll be able to shake this one, another ghost to the host that haunts her.

It’s quiet in the clinic. You can’t explain away what she feels. This one was preventable. There was a happy ending in sight. You both know that.

“Look at my blood. I’m ready.”

“Not today.”

“Why not!?”

“You’re not in the right state of mind for this. None of us are.”

“It’s a vial of blood!”

“Not today, Ellie.” You’re firm.

“What if something happens to you? Or Joel? Or Carter? Or this baby? And I could’ve stopped it?” She’s pleading, grasping at straws.

“Another day. When you’re in a better place.”

“I can’t do nothing anymore!”

You hold her gaze. She’s stubborn, but so are you. She’s like a deer stuck in headlights, mind darting between rushing forward or darting back until it’s frozen. Then she’s gone in the blink of any eye. Only then do you allow room for your emotions to fill the empty clinic.

You’re alone for maybe an hour before Joel finds you face up on one of the cots, tears streaming from the corners of your eyes. He lets out a long sigh, kneeling at your bedside. His hand runs over your head as you turn your head to him.

“I take it you heard?”

“From the source herself.”

Joel inhales sharply. “She wouldn’t talk to me when I went over.”

You take a deep breath, chest quivering as you do. You ease into a sitting position. Joel helps you up. Your feet dangle over the side. He sits next to you, arm supporting your back.

“She feels guilty?” Joel asks.

“She’s blaming herself.” You run a hand over your face. “Chris put himself between her and the infected. Got bit so she wouldn’t.”

“Shit.” Joel cringes.

You nod, keeping the rest to yourself. It doesn’t feel right to share the rest of what happened. You walk home together. The town feels silent. You pass a few people on the street, but they’re mostly in their homes, holding their families close.

Maria comes out of Ellie’s house as you reach your congregation of houses. Unspoken words pass between you and your oldest friend. Joel kisses your head.

“I’ll go get Carter from Tommy’s,” he says, leaving you and Maria.They nod to each other in passing.

“She tell you?”

Maria nods. You catch the tension in her chest, even under her many layers. She’s reliving it too.

“You know that was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” You’ve rarely heard her voice quiver.

Your arms wrap around her. She holds on to you. “I know.” You don’t have more tears to shed, but you would if you did. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know that… now.” Maria sighs, arms staying around you. “She doesn’t. Not sure she ever will.”

“I know.”

The two of you stand in the middle of the street, depending on each other for support until Joel and Tommy pull you inside, worried you might freeze. You spend the evening at Tommy and Maria’s. It’s mostly quiet. Joel plucks at the strings of his guitar. He’s only missing one string now. Elias plays contently in the corner. Carter sits beside Joel, intently watching the way his fingers play across the frets. You’re doing what the rest of the town is, leaning on family for support.

Eventually, the front door opens. Dina and Jesse pull Ellie inside. She looks like a ghost of herself, eyes skirting around trying to figure out who she should sit beside. You get the feeling you weren’t the only one who got snapped at today.

“We didn’t want to leave her alone,” Dina says.

You pick up the blanket on your lap, making room for her next to you on the couch. Her head picks up, looking for permission, like you might reject her after what she said earlier. You only nod your head and she’s falling beside you, curling up in a ball, head tucked into your side. You wrap the blanket around her.

“Thank you.” You smile up at Dina and Jesse.

They nod. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Ellie,” Dina says. Ellie manages a small nod.

The pair leaves and the quiet settles again. Joel is more thoughtful in his chord progressions, humming a soft melody. Carter makes his way toward you. He peers down at her.

“I like your hair, Ellie,” He whisper yells. Ellie’s lips tip up just a little bit, but she doesn’t move otherwise. “I hope you feel better soon.” He kisses her cheek before wiggling in between you and Maria on your other side.

Joel’s voice starts to raise as he sings. His voice has polished some the past few years, after being dormant for two decades. It reminds you more what he sounded like before the outbreak. Carter is asleep before the first song ends. As Joel transitions into another song, there’s movement in your womb. It’s happened more lately, but this picks up. Whatever the baby can hear, it likes.

You peel through your knowledge of gestational benchmarks. You’re approaching the mark that it would be able to hear sounds outside of your womb, your voice, Joel’s. The kicking ramps up. You shift and Ellie picks her head up. “Should I-”

“No, you’re fine.” You both keep your voices low.

But she looks unsure as you shift again. You let out a soft sigh, taking her hand and pressing it into the firm mass just above your hip. Her brow furrows and then she feels it, a firm thud right under her hand.

“Woah… That’s so weird.”

You smile. “You can hit back.” She looks confused. “Just nudge back. I promise, it doesn’t hurt.”

She does, a little soft at first and then harder. There’s a pause and then a double tap against her hand again.

Ellie laughs. She actually laughs. Joy flashes across her face. Her hand doesn’t move for the rest of the evening.

Joel is curled around you in bed that night, holding you tightly to him. Ellie sleeps in the downstairs guest room and you’re 98% sure you heard Carter’s footsteps head down stairs as soon as your bedroom door closed. It would hardly be the first time he’s crawled into bed with her.

Joel can feel the baby moving around under his arm. He doesn’t say anything about it, but you can feel the faint smile against your neck. Tonight with Ellie, the smile on her face as she essentially played with the baby, your baby sticks in your brain. You meant it to cheer her up, figured it would slide into that category of weird but cool. It seemed to, but it was really the first time you’d embraced the pregnancy, and it felt good.

“You think Ellie’s gonna be okay?” He asks.

You bite your lip, contemplating your response. You get a literal punch to the gut, getting out a soft grunt.

Joel chuckles. “That was a hard one.”

Something sprouts in your chest. He’s never directly acknowledged feeling the baby even though you know he has before tonight. You’re okay with it.

“The baby seemed to like your singing tonight.”

Joel’s arms tighten around you. His smile grows. “That so?”

“Yeah,” You lay your hand on top of his. “Guess you’ll have to sing more often.”

“Suppose I will.”

Silence falls again. You know he’s still waiting patiently for your response to his first question. You give it a minute.

“I think it’s going to take a long time.” You roll over so you can face him. He cups your face, thumb running across your cheek.

He nods, mouth opening to say something before he closes it, eyes roaming over your moonlit features.

“What is it?”

He sighs. “Just thought of something, but I shouldn’t-”

“What?”

“If we were out, and I got infected- I’d take care of it myself. I wouldn’t make you do that. Wouldn’t make anyone do it.”

You run your finger over the scar on his temple. It’s a serious conversation, one you hate the idea of, but you can’t help the teasing remark that comes out. “You so sure about that?”

Joel takes your hand in his, kissing each of your fingers. “To protect you, I’d do anything, Sweetheart.”

You let out a shaky breath, touching your forehead to his. “I think you’d have to put the bullet in my head.”

“Ain’t ever gonna happen. I’ll make sure of that.”

You want to shake your head at the chivalry, at the thing he can’t promise, but somehow you still believe him. Joel Miller will learn how to turn back time before he lets anything or anyone near you.

His hand falls back to your stomach, running over and around your bump. You inhale deeply, feeling drawn toward sleep.

“Sweetheart?”

“Hmmm?”

“If it’s something else that gets me… where I’m not putting you in danger…”

“Joel,” You want him to stop. You can’t think of that happening. You can’t think about him not coming back to you in one piece. Especially after what happened to Paul this summer. Especially now that you’re pregnant.

“I want the last thing I hear to be your voice. Not a gunshot. That’s all.” He rubs your back.

Tears gather under the lids of your closed eyes. He’s thought about this. You fight the constricting happening in your chest, remind yourself this is all hypothetical.

“Okay.” You manage, wrapping your arms around his neck. “When we’re both old and senile, I’ll make sure to tell you goodnight so that it’s the last thing you ever hear.”

He chuckles lightly, kissing your temple. “Okay.”

Taglist: @pedrotonin @amyispxnk @joeldjarin @ilovepedro @justagalwhowrites @missladym1981 @jessthebaker @annieispunk @ashleyfilm @moel-jiller @eloquentdreamer @lizzie-cakes

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro stories #pedrostories #tlou fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #woman (joel’s version)#woman (joel miller)

120 notes · View notes

d6volution · 5 months

Note

This might be a weird, or a unique request but!

Jax with a blood kink.X fem reader on her period.

Jax is very twisted n the head. He’s obsessive and crazy for the reader, so when reader asks him to eat her out,, on her cycle. It gets his blood kink thirsty. Ignore this if its too weird!

hehe, not weird at all, enjoy. 🫣🫶🏽

tags: blood kink, oral sex, menstrual cycle, overstim if you squint, possessive!jax.

Lately, during your more intimate times with Jax you began to notice just how much he loved marking you. Bite mark there, hickey here.. he's even drawn blood a few times with those sharp teeth of his.

This didn't bother you, no in fact it invigorated you. Maybe it was the reason you were having this train of thought in the first place.. you see, your cycle started a day ago, and at first .. it was fine. you dealt with it, but on the second day for some reason you body decided to hit you with a wave of hormones that made you so fucking horny all of the sudden.

"Somethin' buggin' ya doll?" A familiar sultry voice broke you from your string of thoughts, and you swallowed. Cheeks heating up as you thought of an excuse.

"And, before you lie to me.."

Fuck.

He was way too perceptive.. he scoots closer to you on the love seat you both were seated on, though you were a bit more slumped in the soft cushion.

"I— well, my body isn't being very nice to me." You decided to go with the truth lest he torment it out of you.

"Mhmm, good old mother nature.. riiight.." He sighed, also bummed out. He knew to be more cautious with his advances when your cycle came around and that's why it was even harder to voice your thoughts.

"W... Well, yes .. I just feel.." You squrimed a little, thighs pressing together. He knew these signs all too well, flushed, squirming and pressing those cute little thighs together.

His smile grew, "Really? Want some help doll? I reaally don't mind.." He said and turned to face you.

Immediately you looked away, only to have your gaze meet his once more with the help of his gloved fingers locked on your chin.

"Use your words doll, c'mon.. a little blood doesn't scare me y'know." His smile was wide, and he leaned in nuzzling the side of your neck. He was attempting to hide this more carnal side of him with cute affection.

After he couldn't just admit to being a little more than attracted at the thought of tasting your blood. He got a few nips here and there when he would bite you .. but this..? You'd be lucky if he was able to hold back.

"I'll take care of you doll, just say the word." His hand snaked around your waist, just above your hips.

"Y.. Yes okay..." You breathed out, your body felt as if it were melting beneath his grip.

"There's a good girl.." He smiled and used that hand hooked around your waist to pull your hips to the edge of the loveseat. Your lower body was hanging off the seat and Jax stripped you of your bottoms. Tossing one of your legs over his shoulders.

"W.. Wait ah.. are you sure..?" You felt even more embarrassed now that he was acting rather than just speaking.

"Mn.. of course doll, don't pretend you don't want it now.. I've been wanting to taste you like this for a while now," He muttered and lowered his head in between your legs. Taking in the metallic but sweet scent, he hummed in delight before his mouth opened, and he ran his tongue across his sharp teeth.

You opted to keep your gaze on the ceiling as he licked at your inner thighs, cleaning any blood that clinged to your skin in the process. You shuddered and bucked your hips in need, his warm breath hitting your aching cunt.

He chuckled at your eagerness and stroke your thigh with his free hand. His other keeping your hips in place so your body didn't just fall off of the love seat.

"Nngh.." He moaned against your leg before finally assaulting your sweet spot directly, his tongue flicked and lapped at your cunt— gently at first but, soon enough the hand stroking your thigh began to grip it instead. His cock was straining against his pants.

"Hha.. J.. Jax..!" You whined and squirmed in bliss, any ache or pains your cycle had caused seemed to disappear completely now.

He hummed against your cunt in response to you saying his name and his tongue vibrated against your clit. He finally tossed your other leg over his shoulder. His hands creeping up your sides as his tongue nudged at your entrance. He wanted to taste your blood from the source, and that's just what he did. His tongue seemed to go on forever. The wet muscle moving more like a finger, in and out without a moments pause.

Jax wished he had something to grind on, the taste of both your blood and lewd juices was causing precum to bubble at his tip.

Mine.

He thought, and pulled back, leaving your cunt feeling empty without his tongue jammed inside of it. He bit your inner thighs a few times, not enough draw blood.. but enough to leave deep indents in your skin.

"You're mine.. understand..?" He said, and when you didn't respond he bit you again and you jolted nodding your head.

"Words, babe.." He looked like a predator. Head peeking from your lower body , blood on the bottom of his lips and jaw

"Y.. yes, yours Jax.. I'm yours..!" You yelped and he smirked in delight before assaulting your clit without warning. Sucking on it and flicking his tongue against it.

Damn it, you couldn't hold back anymore.

"Jax I'm..!" You gasped as he pinched your clit, his tongue forcing its way back in your cunt. Buried deep inside while you came on his tongue, your cunt convusled around the wet muscle but he was determined to swallow up everything you had to give.

"J.. Jax.. please..!" You whimpered as he kept pinching at your senstive clit gently even after you came, he seemed to be in a trance for a moment. Drinking up the mixture of your blood and cum. Tears pricked at your eyes but he finally let up and pulled back.. staring at your saliva coated cunt.

You were panting and your body slowly slide from the loveseat. You chuckled and just let your body turn to mush as it wanted.

"New kink unlocked.. ? Or maybe

... you've always had it.." You giggled and he grinned at you. Head tilting as he admired your disheveled form.

"You're gettin' the idea doll.. every part of you belongs to me. Just wanna make sure ya know that." He said and scopped you up, "Now let's get ya cleaned up before I clean you again myself."

#the amazing digital circus #ask #minors dni #jax tadc #jax x reader #jaxsmut

158 notes · View notes

carryonafi · 6 months

Text

starstruck.

luke hemmings x reader; SMUT!!!! 🔞

big warning!! i’ve never posted smut here before, so let me know if this is something i should continue or keep it pg… or if yall are just sluts for some submissive luke ;P

words: 2.9k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Luke?” Your voice was stifled by the soundproof walls of the basement studio, padding alongside you was Petunia, who you had to stop at the door and apologetically close her out because she had a tendency to chew on the many wires. Just a few lights lit the room, it was dim and you could see more in the blue light of the computer than you could with any other source of light. Luke had a lot on his mind, of course. He had voiced this to you before, going, and going, and going nonstop since he was about 16 and finally getting to stop and take a breath for the first time in years. It was a lot for him to handle, he constantly had to be going and now his schedule was completely clear because of this global pandemic. So, he spent a lot of time in the home studio you built. He would tuck himself away for a few hours every day, do a livestream with the guys, then come back up to you and Petunia within a healthy amount of time.

Today, however, it has not been a healthy amount of time. Luke was working himself to his bones and he hadn’t even come up when food was being made, when he turned to the sound of your presence, you could see it. The sweet, yet tired smile, tousled hair with clear rimmed glasses over his eyes. He took them off as he swiveled in the chair, rubbing at his temples.

“Love…” You said simply, slowly walking over to the chair. His arms had a mind of their own, reaching out to you as you stood between his legs and he wrapped himself around your middle. Face buried in your chest, hands rubbing slowly up and down the small of your back like you hadn’t seen each other in years. It did feel like it. “You’ve been down here for ages.”

“‘M always down here.” Luke replied in the tone of voice that you loved so much, a soft whine curved the syllables of the words he spoke, enough to make you melt as you tangled your hands in his hair.

“Not for this long. You didn’t even eat dinner, baby. What’s buggin’ you?” Your hands slid to his cheeks, slowly coaxing him to pull away. Instead, he rested his chin against your body so he was looking up at you just as you were silently asking him to. Luke would only ever spend extra time on a project if there was something bothering him, or something not clicking. That’s one of the things you knew ever since you had gotten together.

He looked up at you innocently, but his gaze dropped and he let out a sigh as you made your observations. “Just frustrated. It doesn’t sound right… like,” You could see the internal debate he was having, Luke hesitated, but ended up staying right where he was and just nodding towards the screen. “This isn’t a piano song, it can’t be a piano song… too much piano. If I play a G chord on guitar, though, it doesn’t sound right.” He finally voiced his frustration and you could already see some of that tension lifting. As Luke explained, your hands began to wander until they were gently massaging his shoulders. There was no objective to your movements, just mindless playing with what was yours.

“Mm, no instruments at all? Just sounds?” You suggested the synth method, to which Luke shook his head and buried himself back in the safe comfort of your chest.

“I don’t know. It’s gonna annoy me.” He complained once again, sounding just like he did before. Guiltily enough, it got you going. All you did was pout at him.

“Why don’t you step away for a bit, Lu? Come eat, cuddle with me and ‘Tunia, get some sleep. Start again tomorrow with a clear head, yeah? Maybe you’ve gotten worked up with yourself too much.” You slipped your hands underneath his sweater to feel the skin of his shoulders, humming at the contrast of your cold hands to his warmth. Luke nodded against you, but there was something missing. He was clingy, so clingy he couldn’t even let go of you to gesture to the computer screen. So clingy he couldn’t pull his face out of your chest, and so quiet… he was only this quiet in times that he needed something shameful.

“Yeah.” He mumbled into the fabric of your tank top, making you smile. That's the tone you had been fawning over since he spoke his first word to you.

“Look at me.” You changed your voice as well, speaking just above a whisper. Luke knew you were serious, so he reluctantly untucked his head from you and pulled away just enough so he could make eye contact. “Is there something else you want?” You asked, sweet and expectant like there was an answer you were looking for. There was, and Luke knew it as well judging by the way he stared up at you and swallowed thickly. His eyes were glossy now, something shifted that blew out his pupils and just made him appear so sucked in. In a certain state you loved.

“You.” He breathed.

“How, baby?”

Luke hesitated. He knew he had to vocalize it, and he was stuck.

“Want you so bad. Need your mouth on me, or hands, or… whatever you’ll give me. Just need it.” His fingertips ran up and down the ribbed pattern of your top, never breaking eye contact as he knew you would just make him repeat his desperations.

“That’s it, my boy. I knew you could say it.” A proud smile crosses your face as your hands slip out from his sweater, Luke looks proud as well, stare softening with a hint of a glimmer in his irises. “Never this shy, are we?” It’s a rhetorical question, but just as Luke starts to answer you begin to step away. You grasp both of his hands just as they slip from your waist, pulling him out of the uncomfortable office chair and over to the much, much better sofa which sits in the corner of the studio. This was mainly an investment for you and Petunia, his girls, to come and sit while he works. However, he does like his space when he’s supposed to be focusing.

You motion for him to sit, and Luke obeys without a second thought as you kneel in front of him on the sofa. Your hands begin to push his sweater up, exposing his pale skin which hasn’t been getting too much sun recently. He was already breathing heavily, reaching forward to hold onto your hair or at the very least follow how your head moved to kiss over his hips. Your lips dragged against the soft flesh, lightly baring your teeth as you traced your hands along the waistband of his shorts. At the first nibble, Luke let out a gasp and bucked his hips.

“Easy, easy.” You murmured against his skin, he got the hint and weakly whimpered your name. “So pent up, Lu. Is this why you couldn’t focus?” He briefly lifted your head, only getting a nod in response. When you didn’t continue, Luke sucked in a breath.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He said quickly.

“Keep talking like that.” You instructed, motioning for him to help you remove his shorts. To which he did, lifting his hips so you could pull them down along with his boxers. Luke sucked in a breath through gritted teeth when the cold air hit him.

“Every time you came down I jus’ wanted to be under you, you take care of me so good. Knew it would clear my head.” Luke cut himself off with another harsh gasp, those garments were long gone and you were left placing teasing kisses all along his inner thighs as he voiced his needs. One just at the head of his cock, that pulled the gasp from his throat.

“Didn’t tell you to stop, baby.”

“Sorry, ‘m sorry.” Luke pleaded, looking down at you expectantly when he realized you weren’t going to continue unless he kept talking. “Think about you so much, your lips, your tongue, when you… fuck, do that.” He moaned when you gingerly wrapped your hand around his shaft and kitten-licked the tip, both hands now in your hair. This is what got you excited, when he got restless and showed it all in his face knowing it would mean trouble for him if he got too impatient. You never broke eye contact, Luke pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and let it slip just to speak more struggling words.

“I love when you use that voice with me,” He whined, taking another labored breath when you took him further into your mouth. “Call me names, it makes me feel so…” Luke couldn’t articulate it, the word was in his head, but would it be the right one? “Small? Dunno.” He sighed again, carefully playing with your hair as your tongue swirled and made him struggle to speak past his quiet sounds.

“Pretty sure the word you're looking for is submissive.” You sat back on your heels, watching his eyebrows furrow in disappointment.

“Why’d you stop?” He made another one of those beloved whines, shoulders dropping the tension as he slowed his breathing.

“Don't you want more of me? Isn’t that what you were getting at?” You also looked at him with confusion, false only to mock him. Luke got the hint, you could see the second the realization hit him. His bright little face, eagerly nodding and still stroking your hair as you begin to grin again. “You know what to do, tell me.”

“I want it so bad.” Luke didn’t waste a moment to speak. “I need to feel you around me, ‘s been too long.” It really hasn’t. This cycle happened again yesterday, and this morning, before he finally coaxed himself into getting some work done. As he spoke, you slowly got on the couch and rested your knees on either side of him to straddle him.

“And?” You asked sweetly.

“Please, (Y/N)?” Luke stared up at you, never pulling those icy blue irises away from yours.

“You’re so desperate, how do you even get like this?” A giggle chased after your words. This was something you could have kept to yourself, but of course, you always loved to see Luke’s reaction to your teasing. He only squirmed, heat rising to his cheeks as you sat back a bit to tuck your thumbs into the waistband of your pajamas.

“Because, look at you. You expect me to sit here and not be starstruck when you look at me like that?” Luke briefly lifted one of his hands to motion at your body as you continued to remove your sweats.

“Ooh. Starstruck.” You marveled, tossing your clothes off to the side with his. “That’s a good word, you’ve been using that brain today, Lu.”

“If you could read my mind half the time, you’d be starstruck, too.” Luke tugged his bottom lip between his teeth yet again, tilting his head back as you leaned forward hovering over his lips. He was so close to kissing you, so close, but you refrained for a moment.

“Mm, yeah?” You hummed, using one hand to reach between you two finding that this way was easiest to steady yourself. Luke’s eyelids fluttered when your hand came into contact with him again, unable to take his gaze off of the way you began sinking down. Your lips parted slightly, trying to formulate the rest of your sentence. “Let it all out. Wanna hear all your thoughts.”

“I really fuckin’ love how you know what makes me weak.” Luke was hasty, eager to impress you with his quick talk. “You touch me in all the right places, call me all the right names, make the prettiest sounds, God.” He cursed. “Never had anyone make me feel like this before.” His words sounded breathy, like it was a battle to commit to telling you (almost) everything that came to his mind. It worked, oh, it worked. You braced yourself with both hands on his shoulders, slowly snaking around his neck as you rolled your hips and watched his face contort with pleasure. His jaw slack, eyes squeezed shut and eyebrows furrowing over those deep lustrous eyes you so badly wanted to see staring at you. His lips were so pink, the bottom one just a bit swollen from his abuse, the stubble on his cheeks drove you mad and each shadow on his face was so perfectly contoured. However, his hands hesitated. They briefly lifted from the back of the couch before dropping again and grasping at the fabric, it seemed you had trained him well, but you would allow the needs to take him over.

“Luke.” With a simple hushed moan of his name he had his hands on you in an instant, Luke opened his eyes slightly as your steady rhythm of the slow falling of your hips became more comforting. The glint in his eyes were endless, his gaze burning into your frame and watching his hands create shadows on your body. His fingertips danced along the hem of your tank top, making eye contact for approval as he slowly started to push it up.

“Can I take it off, please?” Luke swallowed thickly, and since you didn’t slow down your pace, his first thought was that you’d deny his request.

“Mm.” You hummed, biting your bottom lip to conceal a smile. “If you can get it off.” Your reply was smug only because you knew it wouldn’t be a problem for him to get the top off of you. It was gone within seconds, Luke’s wide, vulnerable icy blues admiring the full of your body in pure admiration. His mouth dropped open again as you rolled your hips in the same pattern you did before, that rough circle that might just become his favorite shape. However, his grasp got weaker, moans got breathy as he tossed his head back to rest against the back of the sofa. You took this opportunity to attack his throat, harsh stubble meeting the sensitive skin of your cheeks and lips while you moved your mouth along the curve of his jawline. Luke made this sound, unlike how you had ever heard him before. It was quiet at first, rushed and surprised like he had unexpectedly dropped something. The second your hands started sliding up his sweater, feeling his bare skin before raking your nails down his chest and past the coarse hair he gasped a second time. A loud, long whimper tearing from his throat. It was so satisfactory that it had you bucking your hips faster and moaning against his pulse point, your name fell from his lips a number of times that you couldn’t even count.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Luke hissed, the way he was grabbing your side would definitely leave bruises. His thighs twitched once beneath you, then again as you pulled away from his littered neck to watch the inevitable. “So close, ‘m so close. God — can I?” He peered up at you again, making eye contact. They were deep, dark with lust. Yet unmatched to the warmth that filled your chest at the mere fact that he asked, your boy was still in control of himself, asking permission.

It bounced around for a beat, do you give him this?

“Not yet, not yet.” You breathed, the hands that were on his chest briefly lifting to cup his cheeks. “Little longer, baby. Can you do that for me?” His eyes told you otherwise, but he nodded anyway and tilted his head again. You didn’t let him down, just another few bounces and you felt the familiar crash shake you like your body had been set on an endless vibration setting. You shuddered, gripping at the collar of Luke’s sweater as you shut your own eyes and cried out into the soundproof walls of the comforting atmosphere of the rest of the studio.

“Please, please. Please? ‘M right there, I can’t hold it, please...” Luke’s arms secured around your waist, pulling you closer so he could whisper his soft pleas and all you could do was nod. Poor thing, buried his face in your chest and let out a strangled moan into the soft texture of your skin. His breathing labored, burrowing his way even deeper into your comfort as if he could get any farther.

You matched his hold on you, arms loosely around his shoulders just as your hands gravitated towards the soft curls at the nape of his neck. You were still, unmoving for a few moments before Luke finally pulled himself back into reality.

“Hi.” He said simply, making you giggle. You loved this more than anything, the bliss, the love he had in his eyes for you, knowing that all he needed was a simple stress reliever and your way of giving was just what he was looking for.

“Hi.” You replied, admiring his post-orgasm glow.

“You look pretty.” Where did this come from? The comment had you smiling like an idiot anyway.

“Not too bad yourself, handsome.” The hands on the back of his neck slowly worked through his curls, wandering in his dark roots all the way to the light ends. They were always such a mess when he wasn’t constantly touching them, such a beautiful mess. “You still want dinner?”

“Yes, please.” Luke sighed gratefully, bracing the two of you to finally stand up and clean the mess you made. Next came more apologies, letting Petunia wander into the room as you opened up the door and never exited each other’s small range of personal space.

(some more lil visuals for you guys☺️)

#5 seconds of summer #5sos fanfic #ashton irwin #calum hood #luke hemmings #michael clifford #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings smut #luke hemmings fanfic #5sos one shot #5sos smut

225 notes · View notes

jungle-angel · 8 months

Text

Send Off (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You, Bob and the rest of the squad get ready to send your kids off to school and let the shenanigans ensue

"Okay Daddy I'm ready now!" Auggie chirped as he stepped out of the bathroom.

Bob sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Auggie, though he had tried, couldn't quite match his own clothes yet. "C'mere bud," Bob told him.

He went into Auggie's room and dug around in the dresser for a hot minute, pulling out a little white t-shirt and a blue checked flannel to go with Auggie's jeans. "Put this on," Bob told his little mini-me.

"But we're gonna miss the bus!" Auggie chirped again.

"Buddy we've still got plenty of time," Bob assured him.

"What's he buggin about missing the bus?" you asked, poking your head in the door.

"Just a little," Bob answered. "And might I ask why you're up Mrs. Floyd?"

"Bob, I've been taking it easy for three weeks now," you told him, the dishtowel in your hand coming to rest on your ever growing bump. "The only thing that your sister's allowing me to do is eat, sleep, read, watch t.v or use the can."

"Hey, Reagan's been doing this for the last nine years," Bob reminded you with a grin. "Trust me, you don't wanna brush off her advice."

You laughed a little, neither of you having noticed that Auggie had disappeared and come back a minute later. "Daddy I can't brush my teeth."

"Why not buddy?"

"Patrick's parked on the shitter!"

You and Bob both burst out laughing at Auggie's response, but at least three-year-old Patrick had finally gotten the hang of using the bathroom on his own.

You got Auggie's toothbrush and the charcoal and mint toothpaste out of the bathroom and had him scrub his teeth in the kitchen sink before Patrick was done, having just washed his hands. As soon as Auggie's backpack had been packed up, he followed Bob out of the house to wait for the bus.

It wasn't long before the rest of the squad had begun making their way down. Maverick was the first to drop by with Danny and Thomas while Rooster was close behind him with Nicky and Pete.

"You guys get outta the house ok?" Bob asked.

"Never better," Maverick yawned. "These two little demons though, woke Penny and I up at six-thirty while Amelia was doing her makeup in the bathroom."

Bob snickered a little, more so when he noticed Rooster in his black basketball shorts and a mismatched shirt. "You didn't sleep did you?" Bob chuckled.

"I couldn't even a coffee before we left," Rooster groaned. "These two are like bottomless pits......they just wolfed down their cornflakes and called it a day."

Coyote came striding up just a minute later with Paloma and Carla giggling like crazy but the exasperated look on his face saying it all.

"Hair......" he interjected before anyone could say anything. "That's all you've gotta know."

Bob looked over at his giggling nieces whose thick hair had been put into tight cornrows with white and turquoise beads at the end. "How'd you do it?" Bob asked him.

"I don't have a clue," Coyote said, throwing his hands up. "Those two cannot sit for two seconds to save their lives and my mom and my wife are the only ones who can do their hair. But somehow, Daddy did it!!!"

Payback crossed the street with Geneva and Neveah some time later while Mickey trailed along with Isabella in her new dress with a bright sunflower pattern. Hangman came around the back of his house with the twins while Phoenix was the last to arrive with Gabe in tow.

"Holy shit," Hangman groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. "Is it the first day of school already?"

"Unfortunately," Rooster answered.

"God help us all," Natasha said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Couldn't get the coffee in on time?" Jake asked her.

"This little knucklehead woke up and tried to bring the dog to school with him," Natasha answered. "First time I ever saw Cole jump outta bed in his shorts."

Everyone had a good laugh on the morning shenanigans while everyone had begun taking pictures of the older kids all lined up with their backpacks as they waited for the bus. It felt like forever but finally, the little yellow bus that had the name of their school stenciled on the side, pulled up and let the kids on. All of them waved goodbye to their parents, ready for the first day of school as the bus pulled away down the street.

"Are you crying?" Bob asked Jake.

"No," Jake insisted. "I've got allergies, that's all."

Bob rolled his eyes as everyone dispersed and went back to the house. His father's truck pulled into the driveway to bring Patrick down to the nursery school, where Auggie had gone, leaving you and Bob with the whole day ahead to get the nursery decorated for your daughter.

"What?" you asked when you heard Bob chuckle a little.

"Hangman was crying at the bus stop when Missy and Molly got on the bus," he answered.

"Did he really?"

"Oh yeah," Bob laughed. "Tole me it was allergies."

You both had a good laugh on the matter as you began putting the nursery together and attempting to paint it the way Patrick's nursery school had done. You looked over at your phone, noting the time, but hoping all the same that Auggie and your nieces and nephews were having the time of their lives on their first day of kindergarten.

#top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #natasha phoenix trace #bradley rooster bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #mickey fanboy garcia #jake hangman seresin #javy coyote machado #reuben paybak fitch #dagger squad

186 notes · View notes

upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

Note

hello hello!! may I please request steve n hawkins where he’s a little bit more overprotective over her with billy—and she actually just lets him be? haha hope that makes sense and thank you so much for sharing your work!!

“Has Hargrove been buggin’ you again?”

Steve slung a leg over the bench, sliding in beside you. He set you with a soft look, even though his brows were furrowed. Worried. His hand reached out to touch, fingers skimming underneath your T-shirt to graze at your waist.

You thought about lying. You didn’t want to upset him, but you’d told Robin, a frustrated complaint late last night before bed ‘cause Billy wouldn’t shut up after Jason got sick and Murray set him on schedule with you.

“Princess…”

Robin must’ve told Steve. You sighed, not annoyed, but tired. Pushing away your lunch, you glanced across the table at Nancy who nodded in understanding. She murmured a goodbye and went off in search for trouble to break up, making a beeline for Dustin Henderson’s table, ‘cause Eddie (who was supposed to be on lunch duty) was too busy talking to the new girl.

Steve squeezed at your hip, waiting for an answer. You shrugged, your smile weak as a little defeated, ‘cause you didn’t want Steve to see how much the other boy was bothering you. As much as the bloody and rugged look suited your boyfriend, the deduction in wages wasn’t ideal, not when you were both saving up for a place together.

“When isn’t he?” You tried to joke, but Steve’s frown furrowed deeper. “Babe, it’s fine. It’s Billy. He’s… Billy.”

But Steve didn’t let it go. He saw the downturn of your lips, the way you leaned into his touch for comfort. “What’s he been saying?”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“You don’t want to know.” It’s like you could read his mind. The corner of Steve’s lips ticked up. “You’d push him in the lake or something stupid.”

Steve leaned in, chin hooked on your shoulder, nose nudging at your cheek, the closet he’d get to giving you a kiss with all the kids around. “That sounds pretty tame,” he commented.

“You wouldn’t let him back up,” you added, smiling.

Steve grinned, his hand bumping up the side of your ribs, ghosting too close to the band of your bra and you squirmed, shooting him a look that said, ‘behave.’

“You’ll tell me, though?” Steve asked, voice dropping to a low murmur, thumb soothing over the skin on your stomach. You turned into him, nose nudging his and you knew you would only be granted seconds of the closeness before some kid threw food at you both. “You’ll let me know if he takes it too far?”

You nodded, smiling, eyes drooping prettily, that soft, fond way that Steve fucking adored, ‘cause you only did it for him.

And then—

The mess hall doors slammed hard enough against the walls that several kids jumped. And rightfully so. Billy strolled in, sunglasses still on and wearing a denim jacket instead of his staff T-shirt. He bypassed Eddie who rolled his eyes at him, stole a slice of pizza from Mike Wheeler’s page and walked right up to where you and Steve were sitting.

Billy tore off a piece of the crust, grinning at you as he chewed and he looked ready to say something, something lewd, especially for Steve to hear. You braced yourself, eyes bored looking as you stared back at him, chin lifted. But before Billy could say a word, Steve cut him off, pulling you closer into the space between his legs as he did.

“Say one more word to my girl, Hargrove, and I’ll make sure Murray finds a reason to search your cabin again.”

Billy stared, eyes narrowed but still smiling. He was pissed off, you could tell. So could Steve, but the boy hid it with sardonic amusement.

“Is that right? Feelin’ like a big boy with your girl beside you, huh?

From the corner of your eye, you saw Eddie move closer, weaving between tables without drawing the kids attention. Steve met his gaze, eyes flicking from Billy’s just enough to nod at his friend. ‘Wait’, it said, ‘it’s fine.’

Eddie stilled.

Steve turned back to Billy, shrugging as he lay a wide, warm palm on your bare thigh. It felt protective, not possessive.

“Would be weird if he found some snow in July, wouldn’t it?” Steve shot him a look of faux confusion, but he tapped at his nose knowingly.

Billy glared. But he took a step back, throwing his half eaten pizza on top of your lunch tray.

“Whatever, Harrington.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #camp blurb

505 notes · View notes

jovenshires · 3 months

Text

THE BATTLE OF THE BANDS AU OFFICIAL SOUNDTRACK

THE BEST OF THE CHOSEN

the chosen is an alternative rock band, whose members are spencer agnew (lead singer / secondary guitarist), shayne topp (lead guitarist), damien haas (bassist / vocalist), and courtney miller (drummer / vocalist). known for their iconic guitar riffs and heavy bass lines, the band has been accused of relying heavily on their instrumentals to distract from their lead singer's vocal insecurity, to which they have not disagreed. hit songs include "short kings," "i was there man," and "nuclear rain." the band is inspired by the early 2000's alternative movement, specifically weezer, green day, and simple plan.

THE BEST OF FTC

ftc (short for full-time cast) is an indie trio known for their slow melodies and sad lyrics. their songs, typically written by their lead singer tommy bowe, are often explicitly queer, romantic, and yearning, though they also frequently feature themes of self-doubt and internal struggle. other members of the band are amanda lehan-canto (singer / guitarist) and kimmy jimenez (drummer / occasional background singer). with songs such as "creekside killer," "reading of the will," and "bones," ftc is inspired by artists such as boygenius, hozier, and mitski.

THE BEST OF KOLIVTION

kolivition is a hip-hop duo fronted by keith leak jr. (singer / rapper) and backed by olivia sui (pianist / dj / sound mixer). they incorporate r&b, funk, and rap into their music as well, with their soulful beats and psychedelic sounds. kolivition's songs typically revolve around romance in the modern world. the duo's hit songs include "life's a party," "give me all your money," and "bobby from the block." kolivition is inspired by childish gambino, frank ocean, and kendrick lamar.

THE BEST OF COVENTRY

coventry is a female-led punk band consisting of erin dougal (singer / guitarist), heidi ha (singer / drummer), and selina garcia (singer / bassist). they typically theme their songs around female empowerment and relationships - romantic, platonic, or otherwise. their hit songs include "sluts," "sunflower," and "wish i could (say the same)." they are inspired by paramore, no doubt, and veruca salt.

THE BEST OF LET'S DO THIS

let's do this, though a relatively new band, is an enthusiastic underdog pop trio. its members, chanse mccrary (lead singer / guitarist), angela giarratana (bassist / vocalist), and arasha lalani (drummer / vocalist), are clearly tuned into the pop scene and thus make current, upbeat, snappy music that is practically made for the radio, even if it's yet to take off. their songs rely heavily on romance, and are often either explicitly queer or gender-neutral. their top tracks are "i lied," "lost the room," and "coroner." ldt is based off of artists such as conan gray, maisie peters, and troye sivan.

THE BEST OF SMOSH

smosh is a moden reinvention of an early 2000's pop-punk / alternative duo. back after a 6-year hiatus and preparing to win a competition they've already lost, ian hecox (singer / bassist), anthony padilla (singer), and their rotating backup band are re-entering both battle of the bands and mainstream. their music centers around personal identity and how that identity affects one's relationships. though they are re-inventing their sound, smosh was and is still known for their heavy instrumentals and all-star vocals. hit songs include "shut up," "the sun," and "destiny," and the band was based off of twenty one pilots, fall out boy, and panic! at the disco.

THE BEST OF JACKIE UWEH

jackie uweh - also known as the most talented voice of our generation - is an r&b / soul singer who sells out football stadiums with her powerhouse vocals. her songs often feature themes of feminism, romantic relationships, and a continuous journey of self-discovery. this is her first year judging battle of the bands, and, according to her, hopefully not her last. jackie's hit songs include "buggin'," "over easy," and "been with." she is inspired by beyonce, rhianna, and lizzo.

THE BEST OF MYTHICAL

mythical, which consists of rhett mclaughlin (singer / guitarist) and link neal (singer / guitarist) and their fantastic backing band, is a country band notable for having won battle of the bands ten years ago. since then, they have created their own empire, complete with a record label and several signed artist - previously including ian hecox of smosh fame. though they are a country band, mythical is also known to incorporate alternative genres into their music, especially their most recent album, which has been by far their most controversial in terms of sound. their musical themes vary, sometimes instead focusing on story-telling rather than relatability, but typically they utilize love (romantic, platonic, and familial), religion, and self-expression and exploration. their songs include "will it?," "buddy system," and "let's talk about that." they are inspired by james and the shame, noah kahan, and the lumineers.

THE BEST OF TREVOR

trevor (that's it, just trevor) is a soundcloud-based rapper who's honestly just happy to be here. an up-and-coming (read: thus unsuccessful) artist, trevor is a part-time musician and a part-time sound designer and editor. after working on mythical's latest album, he was invited to emcee the battle of the bands and is ecstatic at the chance to promote himself. trevor focuses on the self-described subgenre "meme rap," which views modern life through a comical gen z lens. his songs include "another banger," "silly guy," and "o7," and he is based on yung gravy, yungblud, and danny gonzalez.

#smosh #smosh au #fic #rpf #playlist #edit #mine*#aued*#botbau #oh my god...... whew this took me OUT #writing up all the descriptions my detested. anyway hope you all enjoy! for any of you who picked up on the january 25th clues here's this!#idk when this series will be back?? just bc. that would mean either me having to write it or me figuring out what content to make next #but! botbau is out there for us all now <3 #or at least whats been sitting in my drafts anyway

91 notes · View notes

animebw · 1 year

Text

I’m gonna be honest, I thought going into Winter 2023 that this was gonna be a bit of a dump season. One of those seasons where anime just kinda sits around farting and we all wait patiently for the actual Good Shit to start coming out again while pretending to catch up on our backlogs.

That... has not been the case.

Bofuri Season 2: Seriously, how does this show get so many incredible action cuts?

Buddy Daddies: Look, it’s probably not gonna be gay, but Spy x Family meets Tiger and Bunny is something we all need in our lives, okay?

Campfire Cooking in Another World: Couldn’t even last a full episode of this one before my eyes glazed over. Dropped.

Endo and Kobayashi Live: Now this is pretty charming! Pity the animation’s such garbage, though.

Giant Beasts of Ars: It’s a damn good season for fantasy anime, y’all.

Handyman Saitou in Another World: Could actually end up a halfway decent isekai SOL if it stops being so goddamn terrible at structure.

High Card: This is exactly my brand of Anime Bullshit(tm) and I am so on board.

Ippon Again: An actually great female-led sports anime? With major A Place Further Than the Universe vibes? Do not sleep on this one, y’all.

Kaina of the Great Snow Sea: Damn. Good. Season. For. Fantasy. Anime.

Kubo Won’t Let Me Be Invisible: As far as Takagi-san knock-offs go, this one is pleasant enough.

The Magical Revolution of the Oh Fuck It These LN Titles are Impossible to Remember Just Call it “MagiRevo”: Buckle up, folks, we might just have another Actually Good Isekai on our hands.

Malevolent Spirits Mononogatari: It’s Noragami but shit. Dropped at 1 episode.

Nagatoro-san Season 2: Yeah, turns out I’m still not above the occasional well made trash.

Nier Automata: Genuine question, is this gonna be an acceptable substitute for the game or will I just be spoiling the experience for myself?

Onimai: I fucking hate the Mushoku Tensei studio so much and I hate myself even more for deciding to stick with this one.

Reborn to Master the Blade: This one might be soon for the chopping block, but I’m holding out hope that its story can overcome its middling production values. We’ll have to wait and see.

Revenger: GEN UROBUCHI’S BACK BABY YEEEEEEHAW

Sugar Apple Fairy Tale: Take notes, Every Isekai: this is how you explore slavery in a fantasy setting.

The Tale of Outcasts: Feels like a 13-year-old’sedgy Ancient Magus Bride fanfiction. Honestly, though? I kind of really dig it.

Tomo-Chan is a Girl: LET. TOMBOYS. BE. TOMBOYS. WITHOUT. SHAMING. THEM. FOR. IT. Dropped at episode 2.

Tokyo Revengers Season 2: At this point, I’m just watching out of morbid curiosity of how bad the manga’s ending supposedly was.

Trails of Cold Steel: The Northern War: Easily the weakest fantasy anime of the lot. Giving it one more episode to impress me, otherwise it gets the drop.

Trigun Stampede: Y’all are buggin, the CG here is incredible.

Tsurune Season 2: Good god, the glow-up from season one is nuts. KyoAni just does not miss.

Vinland Saga Season 2: Okay, manga readers, let’s see if watching a bunch of sad men farm is as incredible as you say.

556 notes · View notes

saetoru · 2 years

Text

[ 𝟑:𝟏𝟑 𝐀𝐌 ] 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐌𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐉𝐈.

“shuji are you asleep?” you tap at his arm, hovering over his figure. hanma swears that if his eyes weren’t closed, they might have twitched.

“fuckin’ hell, baby. yes,” he grumbles, “i am asleep.”

“then how’d you answer,” you huff. he can practically hear the pout in your tone, and hanma would think it’s adorable—really, he would. he’d crack a smile and giggle at your antics if it wasn’t three am right now, and if he wasn’t so drained from cracking skulls open all day.

he wonders if maybe if he ignores you, you’ll simply go away.

you, of course, don’t. “shuji, don’t ignore me, it’s rude.” he offers you nothing but silence. “oh, shujiii,” you hum, voice all but singing as you poke the tip of his nose, “shuji, i know you can hear me. i’ll die if you don’t—”

“baby, i love that mouth of yours, it’s done great things. but i’m gonna duct tape it,” he warns, finally cracking his eyes open and glaring at you. two amber (and rather irritated) orbs meet your elated ones, and maybe if he wasn’t so damn used to giving in to you, his eyes would be a bit more stern—instead, they falter when they meet your grin.

“oh no,” you giggle, “what a shame it would be if you duct taped my mouth and tied me up,” you wriggle your brows, making his lips curl at the edges in an amused grin against his will. chuckling, he shifts to face you properly, raising a brow as you brush a few loose strands of hair from his face.

“is that why you’re buggin’ me? cause you’re horny in the middle of the night?”

“no, i just got bored,” you murmur, slumping over his figure and digging your face into his chest, “but if you are, then i’m not gonna say no because i’d never say no to you,” you offer (too) sweetly. his arms instantly wrap around you, an exaggerated grunt pulling from his lips when your weight presses over him.

“well, i’m not, so get sleepy instead. or i’ll put you to sleep forever,” he clicks his teeth in what seems like irritation, but his hand still finds its way to the small of your back, rubbing slow circles into your skin as you inhale his scent.

it’s been a while since you’ve felt him like this, under your touch and against your skin—and hanma shuji knows life with a fugitive isn’t one you’re meant for. he knows in the long run, it’s not even possible for him to consider a future with you when he’s constantly on the run and hiding. but something about this, about you, draws him back every time—even if it means he has to be interrupted just as he’s about to fall asleep.

“you’d never,” you say with a cheeky grin, pressing a soft kiss to his bare chest. the loose ponytail he wears to bed tickles your cheek, the smell of your shampoo in his hair meeting your nose. “then how else would you get home cooked meals?”

“baby, cracking an egg into ramen doesn’t make you a chef,” he snorts, shaking his head in amusement as he feels you pout. this time, he does crack a smile—and it’s a rather wide one if he’s being honest.

“well, at least one of us can crack an egg,” you argue back, hand tracing small loops of your initials with his. he tries not to roll his eyes at the cheesiness, but he finds he tries even harder to fight back the relief.

and hanma tries to convince himself that here, in your home, in the comforts of your bed and the gentleness of your embrace, he belongs. because you’re perfect—you’re warm and sweet and your lips trickle with honeyed laughter that someone with sins as heavy as his doesn’t deserve to hear. but you’re stubborn, and if hanma shuji is damned to hell, he thinks you’d find a way to still bring heaven to him, clutched in the palm of one hand as the other reaches for his.

he kisses the side of your head, indulging you (and himself, though he never admits it) in the small bit of affection he can offer you. he can’t hold your hand and show you the world, and he can’t follow you to the ends of the earth, but he can let you interrupt his (much needed) sleep for moments like these.

and it’s enough. for now, he’s grateful it’s more than enough for you.

“are you sleepy yet?” he mutters, “cause if i get grumpy i might just get dangerous.”

“ooh, how ferocious of you,” you tease, reaching to pinch his cheek. he grunts, shooting you a glare as he swats your hand away. “my dangerous little gangster, aren’t you,” you giggle.

“you know, on the streets, the people are scared of me, baby,” he insists, scowling at the beam on your face. but something warm spreads through his chest, something that almost feels like he’s swallowed the sun whole on a cold night, light and comforting as it seeps into his bones and melts him from within.

something that feels like he’s reached the gates of heaven even as hell calls for his name, dragging him by the ankles, but never enough to fight the grasp of your hand in his as you tug.

“that’s because they’ve never seen you try to crack an egg,” you chuckle, “if they did, then they’d know you’re just stupid.”

“i’m a killer.”

“but you’re cute too,” you counter, “who says you can’t be both?”

if hanma had to describe love in one word, he thinks he’d choose stupid. because if he’s stupid enough to walk through your door and climb through your windows no matter the risks, you’re stupid enough to welcome him with open arms and a saccharine smile.

so he laughs, giggly and real and just a little stupidly in love. “you’re so fuckin’ stupid, baby, the world would ruin you,” he mumbles, tracing your cheek with a rough fingertip.

“well, you’ve got your scary street cred,” you tease. “you wouldn’t let it happen,” you whisper quietly, so sure of him that it’s almost unbearably painful.

“i might if you don’t let me go to fuckin’ sleep,” he grumbles. his lips press into your forehead, and for a moment, you both let yourselves be foolish enough to think it’ll all be okay.

notes: this is really self-indulgent so it's more for me than anything, but if you read this and enjoyed then that's pretty dope too :)

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#hanma x reader #hanma x you #hanma fluff #hanma shuji x reader #hanma shuji x you #hanma shuji fluff #tr x reader #tr x you #tr fluff #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers fluff

3K notes · View notes

havendance · 4 months

Text

Batman (2016) #38 wishes it had what Gotham Knights #1 has.

Recent discussion has caused me to remember that I wanted to write this post. Anyway, spoilers for both comics below if you care.

There are a few different things that set these two stories in parallel. The firstly and most obviously, are the parallel in the cases that Bruce faces in each story: We have a boy. His parents have been killed. Bruce (Batman) vows to solve the case; he vows to bring vengeance. And when he finally unravels the mystery he finds that the murderer is none other than the son.

The appeal behind telling such a story is clear. Bruce at his heart is a boy who has lost his parents. For child to kill their parents is alien to him. It isn't something he wants to believe. It's an interesting challenge to pit him against.

The way that Bruce goes up against these is different in the two stories. The Gotham Knights story is there to showcase his supporting cast, his allies. He is hampered at every turn, by Nightwing, Oracle, Robin, Huntress, trying to help him/take over the case because they can see what he can't.

Robin: Um, Listen. Wouldn't bother you, but... well, this case is kinda buggin' me out... Nightwing: Senator Myles and his wife? Yeah, Oracle gave me a heads up. Tim, this one's gonna be hard on Bruce, Okay? Try not to take it too personally if he's-- Robin: --No, it's-- not that, Dick. I'm just worried that maybe... Well, I mean, you've never known Batman to have a blind spot have you? Nightwing: Blind spot?

Whereas in the Batman story, it's a solo story. He monologues to Gordon, to Alfred, to Selina's sleeping body. Alfred makes a wry remark. Selina makes an aside. They're not really allies in this to him, not really. In the Gotham Knights story, Dick practically throws the answer in his face. In Batman, Bruce is the lone savant.

I will give Tom King credit where credit is due. It's a very clever mystery that Batman solves with all of it's twists and turns. It's clever and it knows it.

I do think that the Gotham Knights story though is stronger in it's simplicity. Everyone knows from the beginning and yet Batman insists on investigating each twist and turn, convinced that there must be another solution. Even to the end, when the evidence is overwhelming:

Batman: I fingerprinted ninety-three bullets, and found your prints on this one. It-- It could be used to prove that you killed Jack and Eileen Myles... I need you to really think, Barrett. I need you to finger another suspect, or tell me more about what you saw. I need you to give me something, Barrett. Please...

He cares. He wishes so desperately for it to be something else. Anything else. He's pursuing it to an obsessive, dogged degree. (He fingerprinted 93 bullets)

In contrast, in Batman #38, when Bruce realizes the truth of the murders, it is very much a realization rather than a unwilling truth dragged forth.

Bruce: The killing of parents, blaming it on Zsasz, then on Two-Face. It's fundamentally silly... It's... almost... childish.

It's an intuitive leap, rather than an elimination of all other possibilities. Now, I'm not saying that Batman isn't allowed to have one of those, but there is just something deeply compelling about the way he is so deeply in denial in the Gotham Knights story that just can't be found in the version where it's a convoluted puzzle box for him to solve. There's less compassion there. The conclusion of the storyline emphasizes the way that Bruce was shaped by his parent's murder, and yet I think the way that Bruce is so deeply in denial shows rather than tells us this in a much clearer way:

Batman: You're not Bruce Wayne! You're a sick kid with dead parents! Matthew: Well, yes... but... but what else is Bruce Wayne?

This also brings to the other thing that sets these two stories in parallel is the way that each of them spend their time digging into an aspect of Bruce's identity. In Gotham Knights #1, we have Bruce psychoanalyzing the Batman via third person file (as one does). In Batman #38, the boy is obsessed with Bruce Wayne, he wants to be like him.

The thing I find most interesting in this comparision is that the file is all about 'why doesn't Batman work alone? why is he so stupid as to have all these hanger ons?'

File: You would think Batman would KNOW better. You would think he, of all people, would understand how potentially UNSAFE it is to be surrounded by people you LOVE. The risk of LOSS is always too GREAT.

Before finally concluding that 'hey, they're like a family to him. they help him out. it isn't a complete idiot move after all.' And I think that kind of sums up the reason that I think that the Gotham Knights story just works better. It's about Bruce's weaknesses and the way that they're covered. It is about him and his belief in the goodness of people even in the job he's doing. It's very rooting in humanity, where the Batman story is a clever puzzlebox for Batman to solve.

And as a final note, this rooted-ness in humanity is also demonstrated in the differences of the two boys:

Why did Barret shoot his parents?

Batman: Why? Why did you do it? Why? Barret: I dunno. They bugged me. What's it to you? Batman: It's everything, Barret. Everything...

Why did Matthew?

Batman: I talked to your man. Again. I found more lions. He found another story. About a boy who loved Bruce Wayne. Who wanted to be Bruce Wayne. Who ordered his butler to make him into Bruce Wayne. Matthew: You can't understand.

Ignoring the fact that Bruce is explaingng Matthew's motivations to him, it's just a much more bombastic and fantastical motivation than we had with Barret. The whole story is trying to do something that I feel the Gotham Knights story accomplishes more, and with greater pathos.

Moral of the story: go read Gotham Knights #1. And then maybe read Batman #38 if you want to read a less good version of the same story. Or maybe the other way around and end on a strong note.

#batman #dc #bruce wayne #havendance reads comics #carthago delenda est #tom king tag

89 notes · View notes

azulera · 10 months

Note

Rashy noticing that's something has been wrong with you for the last few weeks and you just won't tell him and he's stressing trying to figure it out

azulera

Don’t Leave Me Alone

Pairing: Marcus Rashford x Black Reader

Words: 3.5k

Notes: ngl recent events have made me not even want to post but i already had this done and as i said, i do value that ppl like my writing enough to send requests. so here is this! hope u like it anon

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

They'd picked the summer time to move in, late May to be exact, and Marcus was sure it was the smartest decision he’d ever been a part of. The prem season was ended, Y/N was out for the semester, they both had at least five weeks free to travel and relax, and there’d be no cold for the mover’s fingers to go blue in. The transporting itself had gone smoothly, each of her things finding its place in the huge expanse of his house, and the past month and a half of eating, sleeping and waking next to each other had been as nearest to perfect as Marcus thought life might get. So he couldn’t explain what, in the last seven days, could have possibly gone wrong.

“Is everythin alright, love?” He asked over the dinner table, which was sanded wood and brought over from Y/N’s apartment, much smaller than the one he’d used before.

She looked up from her plate and blinked. “Do you mean about dinner? I think I finally got the potatoes right this time, yeah.”

“No, not the food.” The side of his mouth lifted. “You’ve just seemed a bit down, this week, I don’t know. Just wanted to ask, see if there was anythin buggin you?”

“Oh,” She passed a hand over her hair. “Just tired, I guess. It was a rough semester.”

“Yeah, it was – you smashed it, though. But,” He paused until she looked at him, and was immediately taken by her brown eyes, which, unreadable as they were, he’d always found incredibly beautiful. “If anything’s wrong, you can tell me. I’d want to help.”

“Mhm.” She replied, and flitted her eyes away, pushing up from the table. “Let’s clean up?”

He nodded, though he wasn’t convinced, and stood up to take their few dishes to the kitchen. They rinsed and loaded in a silence not as comfortable as it ought to have been, and soon finished, Y/N pausing in front of the rumbling machine. From behind, Marcus pulled her into an embrace, fitting his hands around her waist and mumbling into her neck.

“Wanna come cuddle wi’me for a bit? We can watch the next Narcos.”

He felt her take a deep breath, and then lightly pat the hand that held her.

“I’ve got a little headache, actually. Think m’gonna lay down for the night.”

Marcus frowned. “You want me to watch the next episode? Without you?”

“Yeah, go ahead – I’ll get caught up when you’re on your trip next week. I’d just really like to lay down.”

Fatigue colored her voice, and Marcus felt a little more sure that she really was just under the weather, and not anything worse.

“D’you want me to bring you tea? Water? Medicine?”

She shook her head “no”, and turned around, another sigh hitting the fabric of his t-shirt.

“S’alright, then. Hope you get feeling better, babe.” He leaned in, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then two to the dark spirals of her hair. “I’ll be up in a bit. I love you.”

A near silent “thank you” left her lips, and she squeezed his hand once. And then Marcus was left in the kitchen alone.

After a mild pre-season session the next day, Marcus skipped showering to go straight to his car. When he’d seen her that morning, Y/N had still seemed poorly – she hadn’t left bed for tea and breakfast with him, and no silly texts or memes had come into his phone, the way they usually did during his long hours of training. Leaving now, he'd felt a strange, strong urge to get to her, like the sooner he did, the sooner things would go back to normal.

When he keyed into the house, however, her usual lounging spot – in the center of the living room sectional – was empty. As were the kitchen, bedroom, gym and laundry room that he walked to after. He found her instead on the back patio, cuddled into herself on the sunbed, with her curls spread wild and loose about her shoulders. A book was opened up and settled on her knees, and a pile of crumpled tissues sat just to her right.

“Hey, was lookin for you.”

The jitters that assailed him finally began to slow as he approached her, but didn’t fade completely.

“What’s all these for? You wasn’t crying, were you?”

“No, no, not really. It’s just this book. It’s pretty sad.” She tried to laugh at herself, but the sound came out wet and dull. “Or maybe I’m just dramatic.”

A range of emotions swept over him as he considered her pink, puffy eyes, the way she still wouldn’t hold his gaze for too long. His anxiety flared again, but he continued on with the plan he’d devised in the car, hopeful that it might still work.

“Well, I’m just about to run a bath, didn’t have time to shower after training. It could cheer you up, maybe. Did you wanna join me?”

It’s something special they do, just for them, a quiet and closeness involved that Marcus enjoyed far more than he’d ever said aloud. He hoped it would be enough to break through the wall he felt sprouting between them.

“But you’re all sweaty.” She said flatly.

He sucked his teeth, and sat alongside her on the thin mattress.

“That never stopped you before? When we were squeezed up in the one at your flat.”

“Right.” Her face fell, suddenly, as if she’d remembered something unpleasant. “But I’ve already showered, actually, a bit ago. Went out for a run.”

“That never stopped you before, either” Marcus wanted to say but didn’t, and focused instead on fixing his face to not reveal his disappointment.

“Okay.” He stalled a moment, weighing his next move. “Babe, are you sure everything is okay with you? M’a bit worried–”

“It’s fine, Marcus. It’s going to be fine, just …” She closed her eyes, and they glistened when they opened, focused seriously on his own. “I’m fine. Just stop pushing it, please.”

She gathered her book and trash and walked back into the house, which hurt him, but her last sentences hurt worse. If he wasn't meant to push, then what could he do? Sitting back and watching her pull further and further away from him was tortuous and seemed the opposite of what a good partner should do. Still, he nodded, even though she had already gone, and let his head fall into his hands.

A few hours later, in the bath, the jacuzzi jets going but alone, nothing was as it should have been. Already he missed the slide of her wet skin against his, how the brown of it went faintly pink the hotter she ran the water, which was scalding enough by Marcus’ standards. Now it felt lukewarm at best, the bubbles even less fluorescent, less bubbly than usual, without her there to scoop handfuls of them to paste on his face and chest, making herself giggle and cleaning their bodies in the process. He missed that, too, he realized, her body – it’s softness and strength, and how easily it yielded and came alive under his hands, but more concerning was her mind, which was somewhere outside its optimal state, and seemingly getting worse by the day.

He leaned his head back against the tub’s edge and sighed. It was a soft sound, quickly lost among the hum of the jets and the noise of his muscles singing and thanking him, but then he heard something else. Crying. Quiet, choked-off sobs from the other side of the en suite door, that he knew Y/N was trying to hide, but didn’t know why. The sound alone carved a hole deeper in his chest.

Before he realized it, he’d risen from the bath, shampoo still in his hair, and pushed open the door to their bedroom.

Squinting through the dark, Marcus could tell she was in the bed, asleep, or at least pretending to be. He debated whether or not to wake her – his every instinct begged him to, but the noise of tears had stopped, and he’d been specifically, harshly instructed not to “push”.

He waited several moments anyway, eyeing her sleeping form, burning up inside, but when she didn’t budge, he stepped back into the bathroom, mindful of the growing puddle he’d created on the carpet.

Under the shower head, he rinsed his hair and dried off, putting on his lotion and moisturizer in record time, all the while his mind racing, trying to settle the unease twisting up his chest and throat. When he got to the bedroom, he set his alarm and settled in under the covers behind her, as close as he dared.

Though her breaths came and went evenly, something in him, maybe something of his own creation, told him she was awake, that she could hear him. He felt free to unburden himself, and say what he wanted her to know.

“M’here for you, Y/N.” He used one arm to hold her against his chest, and the other to fix her hair scarf where it had ridden up in the back. “Hope you know that. Whatever it is, we can … fix it, talk about it, at least, together. Love you ... don’t wanna lose you.”

He knew the words were true, and could feel their sincerity aching somewhere deep in his bones. But he feared he was running out of ways to make sure Y/N believed it, too.

By the following day, Marcus decided “not pushing” was no longer a viable option. Y/N was gone from bed even before him, and he turned to his night-table to find a message saying she’d gone out for an early run again and to get coffee. It wasn’t a strange occurrence on its own, but the way the last few days had gone, weeks really, this latest change to their patterns was enough to set him on a nervous edge. All through the day, his head was gone, drifting and distracted while training, and his thoughts sprinting to the worst - Y/N wanted to move out, she wanted to break up with him – in any moment he had idle.

But when his third check-in text sent from the rain-wet bed of the physio suite went unanswered, as did the two facetime call requests, it became slightly harder for him to breathe. The PT scrunched his face, but Marcus didn’t explain, wasn’t sure he’d be able to speak if he tried, and he’d been forced through two rounds of deep breathing before he’d let him off the table.

As soon as the gaffer released them, Marcus raced home through the rain that had begun to pour, calling one more time to no avail, but trying to stay rational. He imagined her sat in her spot on the big sofa in the sitting room when he arrived, apologetic and with some perfectly logical story of what had kept her from her phone all day, and what had depressed her mood the past few weeks.

He opened the front door, however, to silence, and her car keys still gone. His stomach dropped, and an icy, despairing prickle crawled over his skin. Was he overreacting? Or should he have pushed more?

Somehow he knew the rest of the house and even the back porch would be empty, just as silent, and found himself climbing the stairs anyway. His legs stopped by the room he used as his office, and he threw himself into the desk chair. He felt more calm, serious in there, for some reason, and composed himself enough to check her location, which was inconclusive, and click her contact another time. It went to voicemail once again, and he cursed, pulling at his hair.

After one heavy, frantic beat, he picked up the phone again to dial the only other number that would be useful at a time like this. The call picked up on the second ring.

“Mum?”

Marcus’ car had been in the driveway when you pulled up, but when you stepped into his house – your house, now – there wasn’t any trace of him. Late afternoon training usually left him in the kitchen or theater room, scarfing down whatever meals his nutritionist prepared before conking out in his-your bed for a few hours until dinner.

You checked your phone, which had been dead up until the last five minutes when you’d connected it to the car charger, and realized it was closer to dinner time than you’d thought.

Dropping off your raincoat and bag, you went in search of him. The blaring missed calls and texts deserved a response, as hard as it would be to face him in person. You didn’t want him to worry any more than he already did, even though you felt there was little, if anything, he could do.

“Marcus?” You called up the stairs, but there was only your footsteps, the patter of rain, in answer.

You began climbing anyway, sure the sounds of the house would lead you to him, and eventually heard his voice, muffled through the closed door of his office. You stopped, and leaned against the wall to listen.

“She won’t talk to me, mum, she won’t, I’ve tried everythin. She’s not physically hurt, no, but something is wrong. I know that much. It’s like she don’t even want to be around me.”

There was a pause, and an ache began in your chest. The distress in your partner’s voice was palpable.

“But I’ve gave her space. And I’ve even asked her up front what’s wrong, and still nothin. I'm leavin for my trip in a few days, and I won’t be able to fix anythin from there. Reckon she might even be gone by then.”

Each second you listened, you fell further and further into the mire of guilt, and it seemed impossible to get out. Some external force, whose name or origin you didn’t know, forced your hand onto the knob and pushed into the room.

You met his eyes, cautious, but found nothing but relief, unshed tears in them.

“Y/N. Baby.” His voice cracked around the words, and he flew to your side of the room, crushing you to his body, burying his face in your damp hair.

“Are you hurt? Are you okay? Where were you?”

You tried, but couldn't speak around the lump in your throat. All you wanted was for him to hold you again, and to apologize for everything.

“Y/N. You’ve gotta talk to me, please. M’goin mad here, I’ve been goin mad–”

“I’m okay, Marcus. I’m not hurt.” You squeezed at his hands, trying to loosen their tight grip around your back and also trying to ground him. “Went for my run and coffee like I said, and then around to visit my mates at my old flat. My phone died, and I didn’t realize. I should’ve known you would worry.”

He looked back at you with wide eyes still, nodding slow like it was taking serious effort to comprehend the words leaving your mouth.

“I’m okay, baby. I promise.”

When he finally spoke, his voice was gravelly, but much quieter, and none of the terror gone from it.

“Y/N, look, know you asked me not to push, but I can't just do nothin while–”

“Wait, Marcus – can we sit and do this? Please. And you’ve gotta get out of this jacket, babe, it’s soaked. You’ll catch a cold.”

The familiar sound of your fussing seemed to center him further, and he slid the jacket off, settling stiffly on the futon along the opposite wall. His legs were spread wide, and he raised his hands to his knees, fingers digging into them.

Hesitantly, you followed, standing between his legs, watching his eyes, which you’d missed, and his lips, which you’d possibly missed even more. You paused before lowering yourself onto his knee.

“Is this okay?”

“‘Course” He breathed out, pulling you the rest of the way down and rubbing his hands gently up and down your back. It was the first moment you’d felt at ease in the last two weeks, and you took the time to just hug him, wiping at a drop of water puddled along his hairline. Gradually, everything that had been pent-up seemed much easier to face.

“I’ve been real distant the past weeks, haven’t I.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s cause I’ve been confused.”

“Confused about what?”

The intensity of his eyes suddenly became too much, and you pressed your cheek against his shoulder. You made sure your voice still reached him clear.

“Confused about my feelings. About us, about us living together.”

His stomach had gone cold with dread again, but you took the silence as a license to continue. You knew he would stop you if and when he’d heard enough.

“It’s been great, it really has, Marcus. You’re my favorite person to be around – you know that.” His insides smiled at the mention, since the past week had convinced him of the opposite. Still, his expression remained the same.

“And you seemed so happy, having me here. But sometimes, lately, it got — I don’t know, overwhelming? Like, I had my friends in my last flat with me, and it feels like I spend so much time here alone. When you’re here, I don’t feel like that, but that don't feel fair to you either.”

He bit his lip. “I don’t understand.”

“I know, it’s confusing, but it’s like, I’m used to my roommates, us all together, a lot of noise – even when you’re alone you’re not really alone. So whenever you get here, I want to recreate that, spend every second with you, if I can. Didn’t want you to think I was clinging, though? ‘Cause I know how that feels, too.” You paused to take a breath, and Marcus rubbed your back, silent encouragement to continue.

“Thought you should be able to come home and spend your time on your own, too, if that’s what you wanted. So I was moping, but trying to give you that, for a while. Thought that if I could give you some space until your trip next week, I’d be okay. I could use that week to get myself together, stop being ungrateful. ‘Cause I am so lucky, aren’t I? To be able to live with this person I love so much. But I guess I only made it worse.”

“So it’s findin a balance, then, that was hard. Findin ... where you and I, personal time ends, and where “us” time begins.” Marcus summarized.

There was an unspoken “Why didn’t you just say so?” at the back of his statement that your partner was too kind and too patient to say. But you deserved it, so you said it yourself.

“Exactly. But I should have told you that it was eating me up. Not tried to isolate myself, or shut you out. And I’m sorry, about that. ”

Marcus let the apology ring out, and laced the fingers of one of your hands together, a quiet absolution. You felt lighter, now, after having spoken your piece, but knew that didn’t mean the conservation was over.

“Don’t think I need to say I forgive you, because,” He leaned his chin into his palm thoughtfully, before looking up at you. “Because I really get it, you know. I do. I understand that you need your own space, to feel like your own person still. And also that I’m gone, and it’s just you here, a lot, which is new for you. I get that it’s overwhelming, that findin the balance bit. But– I’ve never done this, moved in with someone before, either, have I? It’s excitin, but it’s a lot of other emotions, too. You can’t assume how m’feeling, or how I want to spend my time, just like I can’t read your mind about what's got you upset, innit?”

He paused.

“And it’s like, we’ve gotta figure it out together, don’t we?”

You nodded.

“So when -if, you’re feelin like that again, you’ll tell me? Even if you think it’ll hurt my feelings, or whatever. And if you need to go spend extra time with your mates to feel alright, we’ll sort it. And I’ll do the same. Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

"You promise?"

You promised, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and chin against his head. With the most difficult part of the conversation over, your senses opened up enough beyond Marcus to notice that the sound of rain outside had ceased. The wet, grassy smell of his training kit finally entered your nose, and your good humor began to stretch its legs.

“So I don’t need to go pack my things?” You mumbled into his shoulder.

“No.” Marcus snorted. “Not unless you changed your mind the last 15 seconds.”

“Nah, I reckon I’ll stay. I'd miss the jacuzzi tub too much.” You sighed. “Saying no to that bath with you was the hardest thing I ever done.”

Marcus chuckled, enough air in his chest to do so now, and kissed you lightly on the lips.

“Fancy one now?” He repeated, and your “please” was fast and enthusiastic. He scooped you in his arms, and you held tight to him, murmuring quiet “I love you”s and knowing as you walked through the house –your house– that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

#marcus rashford x oc #marcus rashford x reader #marcus rashford x you #marcus rashford fanfiction #marcus rashford imagine #footballer x you #footballer x reader #football imagine #football fanfic

149 notes · View notes