#it's gonna be some hurt/comfort goodness

[harringtonswriting]

the one with the birthday surprise | s.h.

summary: the day before your baby boy's birthday party, you and steve make a startling (but not entirely unwelcome) discovery as to just how much he takes after his dad (modern!au; spidey!steve universe; dad!steve) pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader word count: 3.4k warning(s): fem!reader; allusions to reader giving birth (not in detail); language; allusions to sex (none depicted or described in detail) notes: this lovely anon asked for dad!spidey!steve, so here you go! i hope you enjoy :)) this was originally written as a present for the lovely emma (@sunshinesteviee), who loves this universe as much as i do <3

...

“What do you think, bub? T-Rex or Triceratops?”

Loud giggles fill your ears as you hold out the two different cookies, one in each hand. Each one is decorated in colourful icing, which you’d spent all morning doing with the batches of cookies sitting on the kitchen counter for the birthday party you were throwing tomorrow. Your tiny toddler, little Jude the almost birthday boy, is sitting on his booster seat at the kitchen table and patting his hands on the placemat in front of him.

“Mama!” he’s calling out for you, and you walk closer to show him the cookies in your hands.

“Which cookie do you want?” you ask again, and Jude’s large, warm brown eyes crinkle at the corners as he inspects the two cookies you’re holding out. He seems to be weighing his choices, and you can see the tip of his tongue poke out between his lips as his hands slow their tapping.

He makes a snap decision, reaching for the cookie in your left hand. “T-Rex, please!” he cries, lisping slightly, and you hand him the cookie. He starts to chew on it, and you’re glad that you made the cookies softer than normal as you watch him eat. You put the Triceratops cookie back with the others like it before you take some rubbermaid containers out of the cupboard to start putting the cookies away.

The sound of the shower turning off and the squeaky bathroom door opening and closing sounds through the apartment as you’re snapping the lid on the container. You put it up into one of the cupboards.

“Sounds like Papa’s all done getting clean,” you tell Jude, but he’s too focused on his cookie to pay any attention to what you’re saying. You’ve seen the same intense look of concentration on your husband before; it’s normally reserved for when he’s trying to fix his webshooters, or when he’s stitching up his suit, and Jude has absolutely inherited that from his father. He looks so much like Steve, with your husband's sweet brown eyes and more than slightly untameable hair, and the resemblance is getting stronger all the time.

Within a few minutes Steve is walking into the kitchen, and you turn to see him. His still damp brown hair is hanging in his face, getting droplets of water on his glasses and the shoulders of his yellow sweater. He’s also wearing the salt and pepper joggers that were normally reserved for late night Spidey runs for junk food or anything you needed; those had become less frequent once Jude was born, but with how cold the weather is this winter, you’re not surprised your husband has broken them out to wear around the apartment. He’s also got some mismatched fuzzy socks on his feet, ones you recognize as your own, with the little non-stick bumps on the bottom so you don’t have any slips or falls.

“Someone looks extra gorgeous today,” he says, and you can’t help the smile that stretches across your face. He returns it, bigger and brighter, pushing his hair back out of his face. “Is this all for me, pretty baby?”

You roll your eyes, though your cheeks feel warm at the praise. Steve never hesitates to remind you how much he loves you, all of you, and it never fails to fluster you. “It’s all for Robin,” you tell him as he walks over to the kitchen table where Jude is nearly finished with his cookie. Steve makes a face. “I’m meeting her to go shopping for Jude, remember?”

“Last minute shopping? She does this every year,” he tells you. Jude finishes eating, finally noticing his father is here and clapping his hands in greeting. Steve reaches out to pick up the toddler and pull him up into his arms, which has Jude squealing in delight. “Good morning, bub! You look happy today.” He does; Jude is always happy to see his dad, and it always makes you melt to see the two of them together, all soft words and happy noises that you’ll never get tired of hearing.

“Hey, she just has a few things she wants to get. And we’re also going grocery shopping. We need enough food to be able to feed everyone.” All of the kids are driving in from Hawkins to spend time with you two in the city to celebrate Jude, plus all your friends in the city will be stopping by at one point or another. Steve’s been excited about it for weeks now, his mood even more cheery than usual. It’s been nice, seeing him so happy, and if it’s anything like last year’s party you’re going to need to get enough to feed a small army just for Dustin, Mike, and Lucas. Thank goodness for Costco.

You walk over to him and Jude, and press a kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “Can you finish putting up the rest of the decorations in the living room while I’m out?” you ask, and Steve hums his affirmation as he bounces Jude lightly in his arms and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. “It's all in the boxes by the TV. Need to get everything put up before everyone comes over tomorrow.”

“We can definitely do that, right, bub?” he asks your son, who’s busy licking his fingers now that he’s finished his T-Rex cookie. You push the sleeves of Jude’s little blue sweater up his arms and brush his hair out of his face while Steve bounces from foot to foot. When you’ve finished, while your son is distracted, you move to put on your coat and pull on your purse from where it had been sitting on one of the kitchen chairs.

“I’ll only be a couple hours at most,” you tell Steve. This is when Jude, having gotten most of the sweet sugary icing off his fingers, looks up and sees you bundled up and ready to head out. You smile at him while Steve walks closer. “Hey, baby. You’re gonna have so much fun with Papa today, and I’ll make you some spaghetti for dinner when I come home. How’s that sound?”

Rather than answering you, Jude grabs your face in his hands, his palms and chubby fingers are still sticky with the last remnants of icing that he hadn’t managed to clean off, and he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose just like he’d seen Steve do earlier. You grin, pressing your own kiss to his tiny little nose, and you relish the loud, unabashed laughter that bubbles up from your baby boy. His hands pat your cheeks, a little rougher than you’re sure he intends, before he lets go.

“Be good for Papa, okay?” You keep your voice soft, using your index finger to tickle his tummy. Jude nods, loud peals of laughter ringing through the kitchen. You give him one last kiss on his chubby cheek before you move to get your boots on at the front door.

“Be good, Papa!” he says, and he waves his little hands at you as you leave and close the door behind you.

…

You know this is going to be a big birthday because, while out shopping with her, Robin tells you twice that Jude is now old enough to be fun while opening gifts; he’s finally interested in them enough to grab and hold his presents on his own (most of the time) and to rip off any wrapping paper. Which means that you know she’s gotten him too much; everyone did last year, since he’s the first baby out of all of your friends, and they love him and his huge amounts of personality. Dustin especially gets a kick out of Jude, and he’s always down to play games and be as silly as possible with the toddler. You're sure you have hours of videos of the two of them together, which you've sent to Dustin's mom at Steve's request.

Thankfully, you’re able to get what she needs and make it through the massive hordes descending on Costco without too much fuss; Robin had to keep her elbows up to wade through the crowds and clear a path for you, and there’d been a bit of a scuffle with an elderly lady over the last of the chocolate oranges on sale, but you got almost everything you need. You drop Robin off at her place with a big hug and a promise to see her tomorrow, before you’re heading back to your apartment. You leave the presents you’d picked up in the trunk for now, just to keep them out of Jude’s sight until you can wrap them without interruptions, and grab the groceries before you make it back to your place.

“I’m home!” you call out after you open and close the door. You toe your boots off, leaving them a bit haphazardly by the front door as you walk into the apartment. You can hear soft music and the low hum of Steve’s voice coming from the direction of the living room, so you drop the heavier bags onto the table and keep one in your hands before heading into the room.

You were expecting them to be sitting on the couch, reading one of Jude’s books or watching a movie on TV (Eddie had given Jude a new Elmo movie recently, and your baby had not been able to get enough of it). Or, maybe they were still putting birthday decorations up, having gotten busy eating some more cookies or sneaking some of the cupcakes you'd made for tomorrow (which you’d caught Steve doing yesterday, claiming Jude talked him into it). Hell, you would even be expecting the two of them to be facetiming with Dustin or Max to talk strategy for beating the others at the party games you'd gotten before you’d find out what Steve and your son are actually doing.

It takes a minute for you to realize what’s happening, because while you can see that the TV is turned on and an oldies music channel is streaming some from previous decades hits, the living room is empty. Or, well, there’s no one sitting on the couch or the floor near the TV or the big living room window. You can see that the decorations you’d asked Steve to put up are all out, and he’d also done some vacuuming and dusting as well. Jude is a big fan of the duster, and you can imagine Steve letting him use it on everything that wasn’t super breakable.

You hear Jude’s giggle, which you’d know anywhere because it’s very quickly become one of your favourite sounds. It’s coming from the living room, which you’re currently in, but you don’t see him. You’re very confused, until you realize that the giggling is coming from above you. So you look up.

You drop the bag in your arms. You very vaguely register the sound of glass breaking; that’ll be the pasta sauce you bought for dinner. You blink once, then once more, hoping this isn’t happening. It is. And you’re not having spaghetti for dinner.

Steve and Jude are here, all right. Sitting together on the ceiling. Steve is cross-legged and Jude is beside him, mirroring his father's sitting position. By himself. They’re both sitting on the ceiling and Steve isn’t supporting or holding Jude. Jude is sticking to the ceiling on his own. Both look absolutely delighted with themselves, hair askew and cheeks flushed pink with glee.

“Say surprise, Mama!” Steve says, waving at you, and Jude giggles and waves too.

“Surprise, Mama!” he repeats, his words a little jumbled. You feel faint. Your baby is sitting on the ceiling. Steve on the ceiling? You wouldn’t bat an eye. That’s how you get cobwebs down, and it’s how you painted the ceiling last summer. Spidey powers come in handy sometimes. Not right now, though. Jude, though? This is not what you wanted for his birthday, or any day. You don’t know if you’re proud, or terrified, or angry, or maybe a mix of all three. Or maybe something else.

Steve seems to realize that you’re not saying anything, just standing in the middle of the living room while red pasta sauce oozes through the cloth grocery bag on the floor. This is obviously not what he was expecting as he looks sheepish and shrugs his shoulders. “Surprise, babe?”

“Oh my god.” The words sound weak to your ears, and Steve’s eyes widen before he pulls Jude into his arms, carefully flipping down off the ceiling to land on his feet. He’s careful to mind the bag of groceries and the small puddle of sauce forming on the floor, and pulls you over to sit down on the couch. You let him, still a bit stunned at the idea of your son crawling around on the ceiling by himself. Jude is wriggling in Steve’s arms, reaching out for you and calling out for you. He manages to kick Steve in the abdomen, and he winces as he passes Jude to you.

As soon as Jude is in your arms, his little hands find your face and he starts babbling happily about his day and his time with Steve as he presses kisses to your cheeks. His hands aren’t sticky like they were earlier, but the feeling of his hands grabbing at your nose brings a small smile to your face as you look down at him. You’re still in your coat, and he moves to play with the material on that while you check him over. He seems absolutely fine; he’s wearing a yellow sweater now, the one you’d bought him to match with his dad, and his hair is freshly washed and brushed back out of his face. He doesn’t have any bumps or bruises, which brings you some relief as well; not that Steve had ever let Jude get hurt before, not on purpose, but you also didn’t know your son was part spider too, so maybe he also inherited Steve’s knack for injuring himself. God, you hope not. Patching one of them up constantly was bad enough, you don’t want to have to do it for both of them.

You look up and Steve is cleaning up the spilled sauce; the bag is no longer on the floor, and he’s got a roll of paper towels and some cleaning wipes while he kneels on the floor to get it all taken care of. “Hey Jude, can you do earmuffs for me please?” you ask, and Jude complies by covering his ears with his hands while he buries his face in your chest. You then hiss out, “What the fuck, Steve? Why was our baby on the ceiling?”

“Well I was putting up the decorations like you asked, and you know it’s so much easier to get the banner up if I do it while I'm on the ceiling,” he explains, gesturing wildly with his hands. He accidentally flings a glob of sauce back onto the floor, which he starts to wipe back up. “So I got up there while Jude was watching the Muppets, and I swear I took my eyes off him for two seconds and then boom! He’s up there with me. Holy shit, right?”

You sigh, tapping Jude on his head. He removes his hands from his ears and goes back to playing with your jacket. You’re getting much too warm to keep it on, but you don’t move to take it off while he’s playing with it. You would much rather he do this than crawl back up onto the ceiling. How are you supposed to baby proof the walls to stop him from climbing them? This is going to be a problem, and you can already feel the headache settling in behind your eyes.

“He’s like me, babe! I mean, we both knew it might happen, but he’s just like me!” The joy in Steve’s voice is extremely apparent, and you can’t blame him. God, Steve looks absolutely radiant right now, all smiles and glowing skin in the warm light coming from the lamp in the corner of the room. He’s radiating pure warmth and joy, looking so sweet and happy at the thought of Jude taking after him in yet another way that you really can’t find it in yourself to be mad at him for this. It’s not his fault that apparently DNA-altering radioactive spider bites are genetic; it’s not like you knew anything about that either, so really, who would have predicted this?

Steve tries to take Jude from your arms, but the toddler pushes his dad’s hands away. Steve’s eyebrows furrow and his mouth drops open as Jude’s arms wrap around your neck and he snuggles closer to you. You laugh at how offended he looks, and Jude copies you.

“I am literally a superhero; I’m Spider-Man! Why am I not his favourite?” He tries tickling Jude, but your son climbs higher up in your arms to get away from him while shouting at his father to stop.

“Steve, he’s too young to understand who Spider-Man is,” you tell your husband, and you lean over to kiss his soft, pink lips where they’re pulled into a pout. He kisses you back, though he grumbles through it.

“This is blatant arachnophobia and I will not stand for it.” You roll your eyes, getting up off the couch.

“Not what arachnophobia is.” You settle Jude on your hip, his hands fisting in your coat as you bounce him gently and walk towards the play area you have set up for him near the TV. You notice Steve has tidied it up a bit, and you smile. “Do you wanna watch Bluey, Jude? Want Mama to put on Bluey for you?” Jude squeals loudly, shouting the affirmative, and you ruffle his hair gently before you put him down on the soft blanket set up on the ground. He immediately latches onto his favourite stuffed animal; it’s a large, fluffy stuffed black cat that Eddie gave you and Steve for Jude at your baby shower. It looks so much like Ozzy, right down to the yellow stitched eyes, and Jude always has to have it with him. Eddie brags about it every chance he can, stating that he’s training Jude to love Ozzy. You tell him to wait to indoctrinate your son into his cat cult until he’s at least in pre-school.

You grab the TV remote from the coffee table, changing it from the music channel so you can put on the first episode of Bluey that you see. Jude yells out happily, and seeing him laugh and wiggle and shake his stuffed cat makes you smile. You pull your coat off, which Steve takes from you without any words, and you look at Jude paying rapt attention to the tiny Australian dogs running around. You really hope this keeps him distracted for a while, long enough to figure out what to do about having a tiny Spiderling for a son.

You then swear you’ll never refer to Jude as a Spiderling out loud because Steve will never let that go. Neither will Robin, who you’re sure Steve has already told about this. Tomorrow is going to be an adventure.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the feeling of Steve’s arms wrapping around your waist, and the warmth of his front pressed to your back. His chin hooks itself on your shoulder as he presses a kiss to the side of your neck. You melt into his embrace, leaning back to have him support some of your weight. “Y’know, I think we need to make another one so I can be that one’s favourite.”

You laugh, pinching the back of one of his hands with your fingers. He squeezes you tighter in response, not letting go. You tell him, “Steve, do you know what your son did to my body? Do you remember that? I deserve to be loved.” Which you know he did; Steve was never shy about how much he worships you, how much he loves all of you and every inch of your body, both during and since your pregnancy. He always made sure you knew how grateful he was to have you, every single part of you, and helped you fall back in love with yourself and how you look.

“And if we make another one, I can show you just how much I love you,” he murmurs, his nose nudging the soft patch of skin behind your ear. “Many, many times.”

Jude shouts out something at the TV, getting up to dance with his little cat, and you think maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

Well, until you realize you somehow have to clean his little footprints off the ceiling.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things imagine #stranger things reader insert #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #stranger things #spidey!steve #this is my first dad!steve fic #hopefully it turned out okay #it was fun to write!! #so maybe more dad stuff to come??? #plus i have like two other spidey!steve fics on the way #one of which is aaaaaaalmost done #just gotta get the ending written #and the other one might take a while #it's gonna be some hurt/comfort goodness #maybe a lil heavy on the hurt #we'll see #does anyone read the tags? probably not

[snipersfucker]

request from @infintyfandoms: Thought! Mirage is always so reckless, well what if one time he went too far and hurt his friend or s/o (either)?? I feel like he’d blame himself so bad - even if he was blind sighted by a distracted driver. Never drive crazy again or not drive around again or what??

angsty mirage x fem!reader times. thought of making it a headcanon thingy but nah. this one might need a warning that there are descriptions of serious injuries. and im also writing this on 0 hours of sleep thank you very much

A silver Porsche parked in front of the vinyl store you just walked out of was catching the attention of every passerby. Both men and women's eyes were stopping on the vehicle for a bit longer than they would on any regular car, their heads turning slightly to allow them to do that.

Mirage loved that. He loved transforming in different models everyday, the next one even more prestigious than the one before. Just to get that attention every single time.

You noticed a couple of teenage girls staring at your boyfriend, and even though you were fully aware they were doing so only because he was a good-looking car, you still rolled your eyes at it.

Your feet led you to the Porsche and you hopped in. Before getting the chance to point out the shameless staring of the group of teens, Mirage spoke up, "Whatcha got there?"

Your gaze had shifted to the vinyl case before you placed it down on the passenger's seat without much thought.

"Music," you responded casually in a light tone, putting your hands on the steering wheel, even though you knew Mirage would be doing the driving. "You got fans," you murmured under your breath but Mirage could obviously hear it. Your eyes landed on the girls again, and although you weren't particularly jealous, you still didn't appreciate it too much.

"Hell yeah, I do, baby," he said proudly, the grin in his voice palpable, even though you couldn't see it at the moment. And then, he added, a little bit more quietly as if he was saying this to the man who literally stopped in front of the car to admire him, "You wish you looked like that, huh?"

You let out an amused snort, and patted the gear stick with your palm to give him a sign to drive out of the parking lot. "C'mon."

"Let me honk at him," he'd asked for your permission seconds before doing it anyway without you allowing him to, causing the man to jump in his spot and then walk away. You just smacked the passenger's seat in disapproval, not even going on a rant about his behaviour because it was a daily occurrence for Mirage to do whatever he wanted.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, offended by your sudden reaction, as if he wasn't used to it, "I'm all for violence unless it's directed towards me," he muttered, sounding like an annoyed child. Then, without any warning, he revved the engine and drove out of the parking lot onto the main road. You only rolled your eyes without a word but then, you noticed how fast he was passing all the other cars in his lane, which he would usually cuss out for being slow, as if their owners weren't driving under the speed limit for safety reasons.

"Mirage…" you warned him, using his full name instead of a nickname, which he did not appreciate but decided not to speak on it and just change the topic.

"Jus' tell me it's not George Michael," he said with a short sigh, as if it was very important to him that it, in fact, was not George Michael.

"Mirage..." you warned him once again, ignoring his words, gripping the steering wheel with much more force now to hopefully get him to slow down.

"Nope," he said simply, understanding what you meant without you even having to say it. If he was in his humanoid form, he'd probably cross his arms on his chest and shake his head with that signature smirk indicating that he knew he was in control of the situation. "That's what you get for hitting your poor boy," he added, sounding very content with himself, revving the engine once more just to show you that he, in fact, was not planning on slowing down.

You scoffed. "You deserved it."

"For what?" he began talking in that specific, overly innocent tone, and you just knew he was going to say something sarcastic that would only annoy you even more, "For being so cute and funny?" He asked rhetorically, as if he wasn't aware that he really needn't have honked at that man, and then drive as recklessly as he normally would when you weren't inside him.

But he was very much aware. It was just that his pride didn't allow him to apologise.

"For being a little shit." You decided not to banter with him as per usual, but just to get straight to the point. Even though you were possibly risking starting an argument between you two, you just needed to reprimend him at the moment, especially now that you noticed how nonchalant he was about it.

"Ouch," he pretended to be hurt by what you just said. And although he wasn't actually offended, he still wasn't really in the mood to let you win.

So he sped up even more.

Noticing the opportunity presented right in front of him, the almost empty road ahead of you two, he floored the gas pedal, making you let out a short, quiet noise at the impact in which you got pushed back into the seat.

"What the fuck are you doing?" you asked him with anger in your voice, not raising it just yet, and not actually expecting a response. But you got one anyway:

"Takin' you on a ride date, baby," he answered sarcastically, his overly sweet tone making him sound even more annoying than before.

"Mirage, I—"

If he wasn't as sure in his abilities as he was, he'd never drive over three times faster than the speed limit allowed, never wanting to actually risk you getting hurt in any way.

And it wasn't even his fault, when a sport's car drove right into his left side, before you could even finish your sentence.

It wasn't his fault that the car ran a red light, that it was supposed to stop and wait for him to just drive away without getting thrown to the right by the impact.

It wasn't his fault that he was now rolling over for the fifth time, his roof and sides hitting the hard asphalt every single time.

You weren't even making any noises anymore so that he would know that you were with him, conscious, alive. He ignored the sound of his glass shattering, his metal body getting scratched, bent and painfully ruined, just to be able to hear your breath.

The other car was in a much worse condition, but he didn't care. The only thing occupying his mind was you, your heartbeat he would do anything to hear again. He needed to make sure you were still there.

He felt it all. He felt the pain that came with getting drove into by another car, with flipping over with unimaginable speed and force. But he needed to make sure you were alright.

And he couldn't even do anything to stop his worst nightmare from beginning to play right in front of his very optics.

Then, after a few moments that felt like hours to him, everything finally came to an end. The hiss coming out of him was still hearable, the hot steam, the liquid pouring out of his fual lines threatened to mix with the flames growing with every passing second. But it was finally quiet; no noise of metal hitting the asphalt distracted him from listening to your body.

His spark nearly exploded with relief when he heard the faint sound of your heartbeat. He wanted to transform, to be able to hold you, to get you out of him so that his bent roof wouldn't be pressing against your wounded head.

When people began to gather up around him, he realised he had a decision to make: to transform and risk getting hunted down just like it happened to Bumblebee, or to stay there and pray to Primus, pray to the people now surrounding him that they'd help you and make sure you were okay.

He wanted to scream at them to hurry up, to get you out, to make that heartbeat of yours sound more promising. To let him know that you weren't going to—

The idea of losing you forever crossed his mind for a split second before he could even stop it.

And it was his fault that he was going a lot over the speed limit, too distracted by the need to tease you, to win the argument, and show you that you had nothing to say in the way he was behaving.

It was his fault that there was crimson running down your forehead, the drops rolling past the hairs of your eyebrows, all the way down to your jaw, then staining your shirt with your own blood.

It was his fault that your body felt lifeless against his ruined upholstery, the only motion it was making was an almost undetectable rise of your chest every couple of seconds.

His train of thoughts got interrupted by the distant sound of sirens getting closer and closer to him. The people were talking, someone was yelling, it all making an irritating mixture of human noises he didn't need to hear at the moment.

Mirage felt his left door being opened or rather being torn out of him in a couple painful motions. He didn't care.

He just wanted them to take you away from him.

When he no longer felt your weight on his driver's seat, he almost let a sound of relief through his radio, but just now noticed that it's been ruined, making it impossible for him to do so. He hadn't paid attention to it earlier, too stunned to be able to say anything to you, even though your name and endless questions if you were okay wanted to escape him.

Cold liquid hit his hot metal body, the lower temperature of it somewhat helping him get in a clearer state of mind. Even though he felt deserving of being on fire, he appreciated the slight relief it gave him.

Somebody placed you on a stretcher, put you carefully in another vehicle, and then closed the door. He couldn't see you anymore but was sure the humans would take good care of you. Better care than he was able to offer.

The loud sirens hit his audio receptors before he registered the ambulance leaving the crash site.

And the sound was still bouncing against the interior walls of his helm every single day since the accident. The imagine of your limp body, his steering wheel covered in your blood, your head pressed uncomfortably against the remains of his left window...

Two whole weeks passed and he couldn't think of anything else but you. You in that horrible state he put you in himself.

The guilt was eating him alive, and even though he'd make Noah visit you everyday in the hospital to make sure your condiction was stable, he still couldn't help but beat himself up and be worried sick.

"Concussion, five broken ribs, broken arm and nose, and she was fucking bleeding from her liver, man," your mutual friend told him after leaving the hospital for the first time, after the doctors allowed anybody to visit you, even though you weren't conscious yet.

It affected Noah nearly as much as it did the robot. The only difference was that the human had no reason to blame himself for it, because it wasn't his recklessness that nearly killed you.

Mirage fell silent.

He got quiet, very quiet, unusually for him. Every Autobot he used to hang out with knew what happened, how much you meant to him, and how affected he was by the accident. They noticed the sudden shift in his behaviour, the once bubbly personality disappearing just so he could dwell in guilt in peace.

The thing that bothered him a lot among others was that he couldn't see you. He couldn't walk into the hospital you were being taken care of in. He couldn't sit next to you and tell you how painfully sorry he was for doing it to you, for putting you in danger, for hurting you so much your pain radiated off you body and made him feel it, too.

Noah insisted on repairing him, and he agreed purely because then he'd be able to park in front of the hospital to be as near you as possible.

But he was a wreck, both physically and emotionally.

And it still didn't change when you finally got discharged. He was not the one to pick you up from the hospital, it was Noah and Bee. He couldn't face you.

You asked about him when you woke up from the coma, your friend sitting next to you on the uncomfortable hospital chair only shrugging in response, telling you he didn't know anything about Mirage, where he was or how he was.

It was a lie. The robot was spending his time either in the garage, getting fixed by his only human friend, or out on the road, hoping that maybe, just maybe someone would crash into him again, making him feel that pain again. That pain he thought he deserved for harming you.

And when you insisted on Noah taking you to the garage to see him, after getting the information about his location out of the poor human, Mirage couldn't help but feel even worse than before.

You were alive, of course you were alive, but he also did notice the way you winced with every step, how dull the colour of your skin was compared to the times before the accident, how fragile you looked, standing there in front of him with Noah not leaving your side in case you'd collapse onto the floor.

You were alive, but also in so much pain he couldn't even look at you without feeling a strong sting in his spark.

His optics shifted to Noah in an instant, as if he was trying to bash him for taking you here, which he responded to out loud with his hands raised in a defensive gesture, "She threatened me."

You didn't even know what you were feeling at that moment. A mixture of sadness, annoyance, impatience, and hurt made you unable to say anything, forcing you to just stand there in silence. Suddenly, a short wave of pain washed over your right side, making you grimace and put your only free palm on the area surrounding your liver.

As soon as Mirage noticed your movement, he made an involuntary step towards you, his servos extended in your direction, as if he was trying to both comfort you and catch you if you were to fall.

Noah immediately asked, "You okay?" His eyes shifting between your hand on your side and your pained face. You just nodded.

Uncomfortable silence fell between the three of you, and the other human was close to replacing it with whistling just so that he wouldn't have to stand there awkwardly without a word.

"Imma just leave you two, yeah?" He scratched the back of his neck, his feet already leading him in the direction of the exit. "Jus'... scream if you die or somethin'..." he added, the awkwardness making him joke about things he normally wouldn't joke about.

And then, he left. He left poor Mirage with even poorer you. Alone.

You let out a grunt, making your way to the nearest chair to sit down. He was ready to help you with everything, but he didn't know if you even wanted him to, so he just stayed in his spot.

"You look bad," you commented, lazily motioning to his beaten-up body with your hand. The raspiness, the weakness in your voice almost made him drop to his knees.

He responded unsurely after a pause, a forced, unamused smirk on his face plate, "...You should see the other guy."

It was awkward. Awkward as never before, you two having always found it pretty easy to communicate with each other. But now... Now he couldn't help but feel that unpleasant feeling in his tank when you spoke up and made him say something back to you.

And it was his fault.

Your reaction to his little joke wasn't something you could control. A short, quiet chuckle left your mouth, causing you to grab your right side even more tightly and a wince of pain on your face to deepen.

She can't even laugh.

He felt so excruciatingly bad he had to fight himself not to transform into a car and just drive away.

You wanted to tell him that you've been told the other driver didn't make it. But you knew the war it would start in his mind if you shared that information with him, so you stayed silent.

"You look terrible," he muttered after a few moments of observing your body, as if to himself to comment on the damage he'd done.

You snorted, shaking your head in amusement. "That's exactly what every woman likes to hear," you responded, deciding that a little banter would be better than sitting without any words being exchanged.

Mirage's eyes widened slightly as he took a step towards you, his servos up in the air again in a specific gesture that indicated that he didn't actually mean it like that.

He had this tendency to make things worse with his words, and normally it wouldn't bother him at all, but this time it was you. He didn't want to make thing worse with you.

"No, no, you're pretty. Gorgeous, in my humble opinion. Walking perfection even," he wanted to correct himself, spurting word after word just to show you that he didn't want you to be mad at him. "Geez, I'm sorry," he added, bringing his servos to his face plate to cover it in... embarrassment.

Something new for him.

You shook your head, looking up at him with a small smile. "I do look kinda ter—"

Before you could finish your sentence, he said with much more confidence now, "...For everything."

He rarely apologised.

But you deserved to hear it. Even if you weren't ready to forgive him just yet, even if you were to never forgive him, he just needed you to know that he regretted it.

You frowned, opening your mouth to say something, but he interrupted you again, "Maybe I shouldn't have be the fastest car in Brooklyn that day. Maybe I should've listened to you and not be a little shit," he recalled the way you called him these few weeks ago, just minutes before the accident. With determination in his tone, he continued, "You can hate me, I can take it." But then, he changed his mind as soon as he realised he would prefer if you didn't hate him, "Actually. Hate me for the next three days at max. Please. If you don't want me to rip my vents out."

You snorted weakly once more, the movement of your body making you wince in pain again.

He finally found enough courage within himself to get closer to you. With a couple of steps, he kneeled down in front of you and extended one of his servos in your direction, as if non-verbally telling you to stop laughing and not cause yourself even more pain.

"'m sorry," he whispered his apology again, the sincere look in his optics showing you just how much he cared for you.

"It wasn't y—"

"It was," he interrupted you in a much more serious tone, but it was still filled with softness, "I was stupid..."

"Nothing new," you managed to blurt out before closing your eyes shut and grunting, a grimace on your face as you felt another sting of pain, which you were kind of used to now.

You opened your eyes and looked up at his worried optics observing your every move, his servos desperately wanting to touch and help you but he knew it'd only make things worse due to his size.

You let out a short chuckle at your own joke as soon as your body allowed you to.

"Not funny," he reprimanded you with a serious face, not finding your apparent discomfort amusing at all, even though he agreed with your words.

"You were just making jokes ab—"

"So?"

You rolled your eyes at him. "Child," you insulted him, fully aware how much he hated being called out on his childishness.

"I'm older than your cute little Earth, please," he scoffed.

"No, you're not," you deadpanned.

"...So?"

"I hate you," you said, although a small smile on your lips betrayed you.

"That's the spirit," he sighed but the corners of his lips curled up as well. A beat of silence passed and his gaze went back to your face, "I meant that."

You frowned slightly.

"I am sorry. For being the..." he was about to say something that would hurt his pride and ego, but decided it was worth it, "...the dumbest machine there is. Even a hairdryer is smarter than me," he insulted himself, hoping the sacrifice would make you like him again.

"You're right." You nodded, fighting back a chuckle.

He raised his arms in a playfully offended, confused gesture. "You could at least disagree, damn."

You shook your head in amusement.

After another beat of silence, he said seriously, "You're never coming inside me again."

"Wow."

"Should've worded it better, yeah..." he trailed off, "Primus, woman, give me a break." He let out a small laugh when he noticed your amused reaction to his sentence. "No, seriously... I... You're my girl, yeah? Don't want you to... You know, be in pain."

Why did he have to be so awkward about his feelings? Now that he finally had the chance to show you how much he loved you and never wanted to see you hurt again.

"I still have your..." he wanted to say that he still had your blood on some of his parts that didn't want to come off, but then decided it wasn't the best time to tell you that, "I almost lost my mind when I couldn't hear you," he confessed, his tone regaining its sincerity, the look in his optics describing his guilt to you without words.

He was referring to the moment he was so desperately trying to silence everything around him just to be able to find your heartbeat.

"I'm okay..." Your tone was soft, quiet, as if you were trying not to scare a lost, disoriented puppy.

"You're not okay," he disagreed with a slightly clenched jaw, angry at himself, not even for a second at you, "You..." He lowered himself so that he'd be able to whisper to you, as if saying these words more loudly would make them come true someday, "You almost died... I almost killed you..."

His face panel was close enough to your body for you to put your hand against his warm, metal cheek. Mirage immediately melted at the touch, his optics closing slowly just to allow him to savour the softness of your palm as much as he could.

"It wasn't your fault..." you started your monologue, this time the robot allowing you to continue, "I didn't die. I might have a broken bone or two..." He opened his eyes at this sentence, giving you a sad look. "...But I'll be alright. I didn't die," you repeated, which gained you an unsure nod from your boyfriend, who was now avoiding making eye contact with you.

You didn't force him to look up at you.

"I promise..." he trailed off, not wanting to show you how weak he felt, "I promise I'll never do that again..." His gaze went back to meet yours as you smiled softly, your eyes filled with love you had for him. "I'll never be dumber than a hairdryer, you have my unreliable word. And I'll never argue with you. I'll just say that I'm sorry, and that my woman is always right, and I'll shut up for as long as you want me to. And I... I'll never drive over twenty-five. Yeah, it hurts. But guess what hurts more. Seeing you with a broken bone or two."

Joking might've been the only way he would be able to overcome the sorrow he felt within himself. But it worked both for you and him. You really wouldn't have it any other way.

"Tell me," you whispered with a slight head tilt, slowly closing the gap between your faces.

He frowned, not understanding what you meant by that, but then the small smirk on your lips explained it to him.

He rolled his optics, the remains of guilt still evident in them, although with every passing second and every joke, they seemed to disappear bit by bit.

"'m sorry. My woman is always right," he repeated himself, pretending to find it very boring, as if he didn't really want to admit that. But he did. He did want you to know that he meant every single thing that rolled off his glossa.

Your smile widened immediately, your eyes closing as you minimized the gap between your and Mirage's lips completely.

And then, after long weeks of not being able to forgive himself for hurting the only woman he loved, he was finally able to feel relief.

#i cant write endings FOR SHIT #this is so fucking good im not even gonna lie #im such a good writer i surprise myself sometimes #the ending sucks tho #i might or may not mix up some of his body parts with human ones lmao #hope you cried while reading this #mirage x reader #mirage x you #rotb #transformers rotb #mirage transformers #mirage rotb #mirage #mirage x my pussy #wattpad #transformers #smut #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #i REALLY hope mirage is not ooc #i really tried #its hard to write him in emotional scenes because hes usually so goofy #tell me what yall think

[cerealbishh]

"You okay?"

"Mhm."

"Good, now go get ready and wish for the best."

#outer range s2 #outer range s2 spoilers #outer range 02x03 #maria olivares #rhett abbott #isabel arraiza #lewis pullman #pls not him taking her hand and both of them smiling about it #they had too many cute moments in that first scene #i think her saying that rebecca being with amy is one less mystery to worry about was her being concerned about what's bothering him #like she's not going to pry this time if he doesn't want to confide in her about it #but she wants to give him the opportunity to talk to her about it if he wants to thus the ''are you okay?'' #and i'm glad he feels comfortable enough to talk to her about some family matters #also them asking each other if the other is okay is everything to me #idk if it's just me but rhett looks pretty cautious but also protective of her in the second gif? #i love that she decided to speak up because it bothers her that rhett might be hurting #and to me it looked like he was also proud of her for speaking up #rip her putting her hand on his arm before she said ''have a good night'' made me sad #i would be hurt if my loved one felt like they would be shut down if they were to speak in front of my family #i get that they don't like her but why invite her at all? #he really felt better after holding her hand #also his little smile after she says going to court wouldn't be a great idea was kinda cute #i'm only slowing down because i'm stuck watching their happier scenes because i'm SCARED #i just know he wanted to stay in that bed with her... i mean i would #geez he really gets to wake up to that... lucky man #i love her tiniest smile after his after she said meeting his parents again at court would be a bad idea #just the softest ''morning'' ever #idk but when she started with ''i'm sorry'' i felt like he was gonna tell her not to apologize or something #i wanted to see him run after her and ask if she was okay tbh #his chair really was pointed toward hers... he's such a LOSER

[toasteaa]

I’m a little late to say this, but I don’t even understand how you get hate. Genuinely. Every time you update, I’m excited to read about Eclaire and Neuvilette, and I’m AroAce! Like, I wanna draw fan art of your OC because her design and story is cool. So, don’t let the hate get ya down, because you def have a lot of people who like your work!

WAAAA THANK YOU FOR LOVING HER SO MUCH 🥹💙 I always get those little moments of putting her back in the box because I know a lot of people coming around are here for my x reader drabbles, but I just can't help it. I love her sm,,,their ship makes me so happy and I love imagining all the situations that they might get into! The fact that other people feel the same way and even want to draw her makes me so unbelievably giddy like, you all really don't understand how much that means to me!

In terms of the hate I get...it's usually because of her appearance. Which, you know, really sucks but it's (unfortunately) something I'm very used to in a lot of fandom spaces. One of the biggest issues I've always had with character creation and self shipping/inserting is the fact that people are just weird about brown folks. Anything from "you don't fit the aesthetic of [insert franchise]" to "[insert character] wouldn't be into black girls". It's an absolutely batshit take that I'll never understand because it's like...what is the actual difference between me having fun and doing what I'm doing and someone else doing the same thing? There isn't one; I'm not doing anything that they aren't doing. I just look different.

It's not a new phenomenon that cropped up suddenly when I started posting more in the genshin fandom, but it does start cranking up whenever more people see my work. It stings, but I'm not going to stop making characters that look like me because of it. I want brown people in fantasy and I'm gonna put them in there 🤷🏾‍♀️

All that to say that some people suck, some people are amazing, and I'm in love with my big tiddy detective wife. She's not going anywhere 💙

#toast talks #I'm legally required to make as many black characters as possible #that's the law #and yeah I do know that some people do the 'unflattering aesthetic' thing but it's like...have you ever seen black women #we can literally fit into every aesthetic and look good as fuck in it. Skintone doesn't stop shit. #There's also the issue of colorism in fandom spaces but we're not gonna get into that right now! #I just wanna put Eclair in Neuvillette's lap so they can kiss! I need people pulling strings behind them to get them closer! #I need a romcom of them! Stupid sitcom situations! Hurt and comfort! Emotional scenes!

[soldier-poet-king]

More stories about the most wretched awful sad people just experiencing the Horrors but having to keep going bc they're fundamentally decent despite it all. The Horrors are not allowed to cease, btw.

#im thinking the like. thara celahar ofc. but emilio sandoz. oural of glome. andrej from the space torturer books #i just need like. the most wretched ppl who have every reason to lay down and die. and dont #despite it not really ever getting better #like in some ways yeah ofc improvement. but the very fabric of the universe. the circumstances of their lives. those unchangeable things #idk man. im just. im gonna go play the longing. surely this will not hurt me in a bad way #see also like. gerry kaey in the original timeline #some versions of alucard castlevania #frodo baggins. snk veteran trio esp sole survivor levi. #cr orym but maybe hes getting a happy ending with dorian in which case he doesnt count #lots of beloved characters who start out like this. but then are shaped and loved by the narrative. i dont want that. #i want a long ugly defeat. theres no winning prize or comfort at the end. it just. is. and its still worth it bc good for its own sake #but that doesn't mean you're not wretched and miserable and damned anyway #yknow when tharas like. doesnt matter if ulis listens to me. i have to listen to him? #im trying to reach that. im so fuckin angry though. and so many stupid fuckin rules

[daz4i]

how and why is there discourse about whether or not certain queer identities exist/if people should be allowed(???) to use them. why is "people know their own identity better than you ever could, and they're the only one who get a say on what they are" such a tough concept to grasp

i think if you find yourself offended by the label someone uses (especially if they're a stranger) or think it invalidates your own, it's a good idea to look inside yourself and question why that may be. more often than not, it's a result of insecurity or uncertainty of your own identity (or many other things, but i won't make a whole list here). whatever reason it is, until you resolve it, you shouldn't take it out on people for having an identity you don't understand

many have said it before but it's worth saying over and over. infighting only helps our oppressors. conservatives don't care if you're a cis gay or a xenogender aegosexual aplatonic lesbian, they hate all of us either way. trying to fit in by going for people who are easier targets for them isn't gonna help you, it'll just alienate you from your own community, and you're never gonna please them. the momentary rush you get from hearing you're not like "one of /those/ gay people" is not worth it and is gonna do more harm in the long run, i assure you

also, it is important to me to say this, but having some less than nice kneejerk reaction caused by confusion about an identity you don't understand doesn't mean you're a bad person or anything. as long as you aren't mean to that person, and you take a second to think smth along the lines of "wait a minute, this isn't any of my business" after having said reaction, you're good 👍 a lot of reflexive reactions we have to things are ingrained into us simply by. well. living in a society 🤡 and you're not terrible for having those thoughts. it's your actions that matter, and your second thought (the "wait, why did i just think that?") is more defining of your actual character and morals than your reflex. i know that having thoughts like this, even tho they're unwanted, can very easily make one spiral, so it's important to me that whoever needs to hear this knows this doesn't make you a bad person 🙏 you're good, keep taking actions to be good, accept other people even if you don't understand them, and you're on the right track :)

#i considered adding that last part in the tags but i figured it'll be too long for that 😭 #i noticed i'm posting a lot of rants lately. sorry. but i do wanna make sure no one's actually feeling bad over them #if i complain about something that you do or call it mean and such. that doesn't make you a bad person #you can always work to change and grow 👍 it's not easy but it starts with smaller steps than you'd expect #and now i just switched to a whole other topic from my original point. oops #i do firmly believe that any discourse about someone's identity is dumb as fuck #seeing it in poll blogs always makes me 😐😬 like how is it any business for any of us. why is this up for debate #if a person says they're queer then they are. they don't need to pass some test or go through initiation to be accepted #if they feel comfortable with a certain word that's awesome. why does it matter to *you* which word they use #'they're only using this microlabel to feel special' so? is there anything wrong with that? #'this label contradicts [insert other identity that falls under the same umbrella]' ok. but does that hurt anyone in any way #a lot of identities can even be self contradictory. does it matter tho? does it affect anyone in any way? #'they might realize that label is wrong later' again. what's the harm in that. #i don't blame anyone for these thoughts bc like. this is how cishets view a lot of the even more common labels #so you're basically taught to think this way from day one. that doesn't mean you need to stick to that thought process #you might have these reflexes forever no matter how hard you try. but you'll get quicker about moving on from them #but you do have to try. you do have to realize that other people's identities aren't about you #anyway. this post feels like batting at a hornets nest. really hope i don't get some bad faith readers here lol #(i noticed a lot of places one could apply bad faith but like it's 3:30 am i'm too tired to add this many disclaimer. #so i'm gonna trust you to not jump to conclusions and to approach this in good faith okay? mwah 🖤) #also my whole ramble abt morality (in the tags too) is relevant to. any topic really #i may just make a separate post about it really. .....tomorrow tho.

[dreamsy990]

fake screenshots but its super lazy doodles of scenes from my wips. also i was gonna do one more but i didnt have enough

#these are from different fics btw #uhhh ones ghost roxas au the other is just some chill axel and roxas hurt/comfort #the second one was supposed to have cooler lighting then i realized i fucked something up #so. sacrifices were made. #im very tired #will i ever clean these up? who fucking KNOWS #im gonna go to sleep now #doodles #roxas #axel #sora #kingdom hearts #im not a good writer idk #i just like cool lighting

[youngpettyqueen]

Trick AND treat! 😁 You can do two separate ones or combine them. And let Hawkeye take care of and fuss over Charles.

I tried so hard to come up with something for trick but my brain is not braining today. to make up for it, I added 250 words to a very fluffy, very silly idea because this hit me IMMEDIATELY upon getting this ask and it took everything in me to not write this while I was at work. maybe at some point I can come back with an idea for trick?? but I didnt want this to sit in my inbox forgotten so I hope you can forgive me only doing treat, at least for now

The first snow of the year comes, perhaps luckily, when they have children visiting. 

Charles woke that morning to the delighted shrieks and giggles of children, unmistakable in pitch and volume. The sound was so sweet he couldn’t be irritated at being woken up early, not that he’d ever admit that. He made sure to grouse thoroughly about the hour to his tentmates, knowing they’d rib him to lighten up before moving on, but would never let him live a moment of softness down. 

He’s taking a moment, now, to watch. It’s after breakfast, he has a shift to get to, but he knows that post-OP is quiet and can afford for him to be a couple minutes late. The children are running around, bundled in their mismatched winter jackets and too-big boots, donated surplus hats rolled up extra to stay out of their eyes. Some of them are sporting distinctly fashionable scarves, while others form snowballs in distinctly homemade mittens. They make angels in the snow, they make snowballs and throw them at each other, a few of the older ones are demonstrating how to make snowmen. 

They play. They laugh. They smile with missing teeth and genuine joy in their eyes. For a moment, just a moment, they’re children the way children should be. Charles is happy to sacrifice a quiet morning if it means-

A snowball hits the back of his head with a freezing, wet splat. 

Charles goes entirely rigid, snow sliding down the back of his coat and melting in his hair. A roar of laughter goes up from behind him, and he immediately knows just who that laugh belongs to. He whips around to fix Hawkeye with a glare, only to falter as his eyes skip right over where Hawkeye is doubled over wheezing and land on the young boy falling backwards into the snow, laughing and pointing. 

And, well. Who can blame him, if his irritation is snuffed out faster than a candle? Who could possibly be angry at the sight of a child laughing so hard he can’t stay on his feet?

Hawkeye straightens up, hands over his stomach, still laughing that goose honk laugh of his. And maybe, just maybe, somewhere deep down Charles can’t stay annoyed when he sees Hawkeye laughing right from his belly. Because that’s a rare sight these days, and maybe it makes the snow soaking into his shirt a bit less cold.

Of course, he can’t admit to that. Ever. So, he finishes his turn, schools his expression to raise a judgmental brow. “Ah, Pierce,” He greets, “I see you’ve found yourself a playmate. If only they’d take you with them when they leave. You’d blend right in.” He barbs, all huff and no bite. 

Hawkeye snickers, wiping at his eyes, “Sorry, Charles, but I couldn’t resist,” He offers as a weak apology as he hunkers down to help the boy back up to his feet, “Somebody’s gotta teach the kids the sacred way of the snowball fight, and somebody’s gotta be the target! Thank you for your service.” He grins, straightening himself back up.

The boy points at him again. “Gotcha good!” He declares, with a big smile that barely has front teeth.

Charles nods good-naturedly. “That you did, my fine young fellow,” He tells the boy. Looking back at Hawkeye, he suggests, “Perhaps your teachings might benefit from a second demonstration? Say, some return fire?” He stoops down to scoop up some snow in both hands, clapping it all together and starting to form a compact ball.

Hawkeye laughs incredulously at the sight. “Oh, he has some fight in him!” He crows, “What, did you have snowball fighting lessons? A private tutor in snowball form?” He jeers. 

Charles keeps his face carefully neutral as he forms the snowball in his hands. “Your confidence will be your doom,” He warns, straightening himself up, “Any last words?” 

Hawkeye settle into a smug grin, raising a challenging brow at him. “Bring it.” He dares. 

Charles allows himself a smile. He supposes it is fair for Hawkeye to assume he’s never so much as made a snowball, never mind participated in a snowball fight. It would be an activity most would likely assume he views as beneath him. 

They would be forgetting, however, that Charles is an older brother. And wealth and status mattered not, in matters where Honoria Winchester and her insatiable need to peg him in the head with a snowball were concerned. 

Hawkeye doesn’t see the snowball coming until it hits him square between the eyes and takes him off his feet. 

#mash #fic bitching #shorts #charles winchester #hawkeye pierce #otp: and their sons #this came to me so easily and I was gonna do a connected one for trick #but ive been trying to do that for. 2 hours. and nothing is clicking #so I hope its ok that I added some more onto this one instead! #it was a lot of fun to write #love me some silly Charles #but maybe at some point ill come back and add a little epilogue of sorts with that trick prompt #who knows with my muse. certainly not me #thanks for the request! #I hope even if not everything you asked for its still good #sorry about my fickle muse im usually all over the hurt/comfort but its just not clicking rn :/

[anaalnathrakhs]

btw my mom said it. she said it to me looking me in the eyes. i told her about how difficult it was for me to get through those family reunions, and she admitted it was very important to her, important enough that she was just going to do it anyway.

#i know there are compromises out there #and i'm not going to live w them my whole life so i'll be out fairly soon all things considered #and i'm trying to be understanding when people's priorities aren't the same as mine #but i uh. would be lying if i said it doesn't hurt a little wittle bit. #i'm gonna keep handling it because i've been an asshole to my parents for long enough #i largely owe them that. cooperating and spending time with them and engaging in what matters to them. #but then she's says things like ''but whenever you move out you'll still be part of the family and invited if you want uwu'' #it's just ?????? okay thanks ???? perhaps you could also try seeing things from my point of view perhaps???? #it's all circling back to that. they have a very weird way to ''help'' me #throwback to them trying to cure my depression with amusement parks #when i would have liked a little less of that and a little more help and understanding #it feels like they're trying to put bandaids on a cancer #''you don't ask for help'' okay no help is coming. i am not being helped. #the system can't help me cause there's no damn beds no damn professionals no damn time to help everyone #the people around me can't help me because it's not their job or within their wheelhouse to help me #and they've got their own shit to deal with #on that note #i was discussing stuff with my mom #and i mentionned it was indeed pretty difficult to manage your time when you had to deal with school and friends and your parents #and she was like ''deal with your parents???? what do you have to deal with????'' #oh i don't KNOW maybe that i'm officially an associate of my dad and i have to help out w events and some accounting #or maybe i have to pay back the fucking years i spent being an ungrateful child now i do everything you expect me to and it's exhausting #maybe that you constantly remind me i am living in YOUR house by touching my shit instead of letting me deal with shit at my own pace #maybe the fact that despite everything i care about you and i want us to have a good relationship and that takes WORK and i'm exhausted #maybe the fact that you keep giving me advice that is unproductive misguided misunderstanding etc etc #and cold comfort after you did something you knew to be difficult for me #how you keep encouraging shit that i don't want and am unhappy with because it's the ''normal'' way #how you raised me from childhood to be an empty shell in a family of empty shells #broadcasting my misery #vent

[koishua]

shining solo ep 8. my reaction rn 😐😐 took it a bit hard lmao

#tp #very mixed feelings. as someone who associates herself with jeongwoo and having very similar personalities... this ep hurt a lot #idk idk #i mean i get it but i also absolutely do not get it #so many thoughts im taking this very personally what the heck #i cant really warm up to half of this part's girlies im sorry #i loved everyone on part one #as someone who also struggles with managing my social energy lvls... this was a slap in the face #bc my boy jeongwoo truly gave it his ALL the whole day and even managed to perform a couple songs for the girls #despite already having spent the whole day together #and his energy must have been SPENT already and then they pick him as MVP of the day and he has that 1:5 date with all of the girls #by himself!! which is so terrifying imagine being the one person who everyone's attention is on and you have to interact with these ppl #that you arent very comfortable with but you still try your best to give them a good time #AND THEN!! they give you NOTHING in return?? not even a recorder?? no jewel no recording nothing. just ignored like that by everyone #and i get that the girls dont know who's voting for who so they might have believed someone else was gonna give him a jewel or sth #but no one gives him anything (positive OR negative) #and yeah. he was absolutely shocked at the empty safe. i would have been too. #and why did they not give him a jewel y'all might ask??? IT WAS BC HE FELL SILENT DURING THE LAST BIT: THE DINNER #my gosh that's the part that i take offense to personally bc it's really really really difficult to always engage in convos with ppl #after spending the whole day with them already?? and your social battery is down so you quietly enjoy a simple meal?? #and then all the girlies threw him away like that?? #i mean yeah you're surrounded by sweet men who spend the day appealing themselves to you but come on?? #i would have been so impressed by jeongwoo and thankful that he put that much effort in and would understand how difficult it is to #maintain it till the very end because not everyone has hyunsuk's boundless social energy #no offense hyunsuk i love you dearly #and also??? what's up with admitting that you lack some confidence upfront?? #the girl's reasoning for giving yoshi the voice recorder was that he said he holds himself to a high standard and lacks confidence sometimes #and i get it. being confident is more attractive than someone who's always insecure and puts themselves down #(and makes the other person uncomfortable) but they were having an honest and deep convo when the thing he said in that convo was used #against him in the end? i would feel kind of betrayed too bc being able to admit that you feel insecure sometimes is a v brave thing to do!!

[moomoorare]

I'm so mentally drained dude I feel like a dry plant BURNED by sunlight

#fell asleep two hours tonight and im still tired #for my mental weelbeing im gonna actually go out to buy something good to eat some comfort foods or something ifk #*idk #and the stretch will maybe help its also sunny it cant hurt #i need all the comfort i can get #my head hurts so much too #i will try to take a nap after im back #i have a complicated relationship with food #i love food. and im not really picky. except. i eat only for the flavour #i need something to be flavorful otherwise if its bland my body will outright reject it #cannot physically bring myself to eat bland foods #and its not even like they have to be seasoned #i love eating fruit and veggies with no additions or salt jusy saright up carrots tomatos and cabbage #but also. for pasta for example. or meat. or anything really . #idk. #anyway i just need food. #because goddamn. ive been having one mesl per day too with how bad my sleeping schedule has been #rare rambling

[pastelsandpining]

Prompt time! 😎😎

Post-Calamity. Link has a pre-Calamity memory on a sunny day and confesses it to Zelda who had had no idea whatsoever. Apparently, there are still surprises to learn about her old Knight Attendant. 🤫 This can be humorous, scandalous, angsty etc… the choice is yours!

Rating totally your call. 😋

Have fun and LET’S GET YOU TO 300 PASTELS!♥️

I RISE

this is. it's a Fic alright! a little less of a memory and more of a present thing but!! it's fiiiiine

this idea definitely did not change mid writing,,,ahahaha,,,,,

memory

Masterlist | Small Drabbles

----------

“Link…?”

He was quiet. Eerily quiet. He was just across the table from her, his eyes fixed on a point above her head, but he wasn’t seeing. Not really. It had been three years since the defeat of the Calamity; three years since she’d been freed from that malice prison and reunited with the boy that had given his life for her. He wasn’t a boy anymore, though–and she wasn’t a girl. They’d grown up quickly in their days prior to the Calamity because they had to, but even without the weight of the world on their shoulders, there was no getting back what they had lost.

Three years of relearning each other. Three years of new companionship and new lives; three years into a fresh start for both of them. She’d learned what looks like that meant: far away gaze, stunned silence. It scared her at first, because when Hyrule’s Hero froze like he’d been possessed, well, it would unsettle anyone. He was remembering something, or so she was hoping, because the alternative was…worse. Much worse. 

A little self-consciously, Zelda raised a hand to press against her stomach. 

“Link?” she tried again, reaching across the table with her free hand to take and squeeze his. He moved, then, drawing his blue eyes back to her. 

“I’ve heard those words before,” he said, and though she figured it wasn’t at all in the way she was thinking, it still felt like a slap in the face. “My… my mother– I was young. Eight, maybe? She sat me down, just like this, and she…” His brows furrowed, the corner of his mouth twitching. “She told me I was going to be a brother. That I was going to have a sister.”

It wasn’t often that Link spoke of his family. A fractured memory meant it was a touchy subject; he didn’t remember as much of them as he should, and Zelda knew that thought tore him apart on a daily basis. He felt guilty over it, like he felt over plenty that he couldn’t control. She’d never met his family. She knew his father was some skilled knight in her father’s guard, but she’d never known his mother or his sister. She didn’t even know he had a sister. 

“Oh,” she breathed in response, offering his hand another squeeze. He was holding onto hers like it was a lifeline, and he was trembling. She could feel the sweat pooling against her palm–sweat that wasn’t hers. 

“I… I miss them,” he said, dropping his gaze to the wooden top of the table between them. 

“Tell me about them,” Zelda offered and leaned a bit forwards in her seat. How odd it felt to change the topic of conversation so abruptly, especially from something so serious, but he needed her right now. 

Link’s brows twitched, like he was searching that beautiful brain of his for any other memory he could dig up. She could not imagine how hard it must’ve been. 

“My father… He would always…bring home gifts for my mother, and he always made sure to play with us. We were happy, I think.” Happy. Happy before Link pulled the sword and disrupted their little family with the idea that he had to leave and become a knight; leave and prepare to face the one threat that wanted to rip the kingdom apart. He raked a hand through his hair and she wished she could offer more comfort to him than just a squeeze of the hand. She swallowed thickly, trying to suppress her own fears for the sake of his.

“They sound lovely,” she told him, giving a small, strained smile. 

“Watching them…my parents, how they always seemed so…” He paused, searching. “...in love. I used to want that too. I remember…”

His eyes met hers at last. She didn’t know how to read them. 

“Yes..?” she prompted, though part of her feared she didn’t want to hear the answer at all. 

“I wanted to be happy,” he told her, like it was nothing more than a simple matter-of-fact. It was something everyone wanted, but to hear it come from him–it hurt, because he hadn’t gotten that chance. Zelda swallowed again, and her voice was much smaller when she asked,

“Are you?”

It sounded easy enough. Yes or no. But Link’s mouth twitched again in a way that told her he knew the depth of what she was asking. Was he happy in Hateno with her? Was he happy to spend his days with her? Was he happy with the news that their relationship had gone past that point where they couldn’t return? Happy to know that…this time, he wasn’t going to be a brother–he was going to be a father?

It was her own fear that had her pulling her hand to herself and standing from the table when his silence bled into something that felt too long. Suffocating. She couldn’t breathe. She was going to cry. She needed to move, to get away–but he was always three steps behind her, wasn’t he? And his hand grabbed her wrist before she could open the door and slip out. 

“Zelda,” he said, his voice a whisper. She inhaled, her eyes fixed firmly on the door just before her. Logically, she knew Link wasn’t the type of man to abandon her. He’d faced the Calamity twice, when he could have very well woken from the Shrine and chosen a different path. Goddess forbid a baby be some sort of worser fate–but the thought that he would choose to stay for her when there was the possibility that he wasn’t happy…

“Link,” she begged. 

“I wanted to be happy,” he repeated, and for a brief moment, it felt almost like salt being rubbed into a gruesome, open wound, “and– and I wanted a family.”

The words made her freeze. She turned her head slowly, and the eyes of the man she loved were scared. Scared she was going to walk away and not come back? Scared because of the news she had given him? There were tears glistening just in the corners of his eyes, and that was what made her turn around.

“I never thought I would live long enough to have that,” he told her, his voice strained. He was trying not to cry. The realization struck her like an arrow. Zelda pulled her hand free and slipped her arms around him instead, drawing him close to her chest. Once upon a time, it wasn’t in the stars for him to have that. He’d been moments from death, and the feel of his shallow breathing against her arms was always going to haunt her. What might as well have been his dead weight… 

“But you have,” she whispered, pressing her lips to the shell of his ear. “You have. It- it’s yours, if you want it.” A laugh, watery and a little pathetic but one nonetheless, bubbled from his lips. She felt him clutch her a little tighter. 

“Of course I want it. It- It’s all I’ve ever wanted, before I- I gave up wanting it.” He never thought he would get it. He expected to die by the hands of the Calamity, and he’d faced it anyway. Oh, the sword had chosen well. 

“I love you,” Zelda told him, sinking one of her hands into his hair. It was as long as ever, but he’d stopped tying it back so much. “And I’m happy with you.” 

“Zel,” and he didn’t say anything else. He only drew back just enough to kiss her instead, cupping her face in a fit of desperation like he was still scared she was going to throw the door open and run. 

“You scared me,” she admitted when he broke the kiss, and maybe he knew that. Maybe he was trying to make up for it now with how he peppered kisses over her face, taking care of the tears she didn’t even know were there. “I- I thought maybe you weren’t happy, or-”

“I’m ecstatic,” he replied. She could hear it in his voice, the thickness mixed with that happy that he said he wanted. “I- Are you really…?”

“Purah made certain of it,” Zelda told him, as if she would ever lie about such a thing. Link made a face, something that said he didn’t want to know what she meant by that, and it was so human, so boyish that she couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I don’t even know how to be a dad,” he breathed, and when his hand pressed to her stomach, she felt like sobbing all over again. “I…I’m scared. Should I be scared?”

“Oh, Link,” Zelda said, laughing again. “You’ll be a wonderful dad.”

And so long as they kept breaking tradition, she was certain they would keep their happiness, too. A knight who no longer served, a princess who never became queen–and now, she was going to break another tradition: a name for their child. A name that wasn’t going to be Zelda. 

She would have to pry him for his sister’s name when they were finished crying.

#zelink #post calamity #hurt/comfort #at least i think this is hurt/comfort #there's definitely some angst in there #my bad #they are gonna be parents u guys #good for them #its what they deserve #requests #thank you for the req!!

[snekdood]

at some point in the future:

*non vegan reading about a new vegan leather*: psh. bet it has plastic in it tho.

*scrolls down and finds out theres 0 plastic. the non vegan gets angry since now theres finally a vegan leather they dont get to complain about*: psh, bet it doesnt feel like real leather tho.

*scrolls down to find out the creators of this leather spent a lot of time to make it more "like real leather*: psh, bet they exploit their workers tho

just say you want to use animal leather and you were never going to consider an alternative in the first place, bud

#bc ik for a damn fact plenty a yall are gonna do this. #excuses excuses #ooo but im sure all that leather you buy is totally not from exploited workers either #im sure you take Great Care making sure its not 😒 #and if you do. great for you! why do you think human lives and comfort is more important than animal lives and comfort btw? #you'll do anything to avoid hurting exploited workers yes? but having anything vegan now and then is just. off the table. am i right? #am i correct? have i read you for filth? #and then you'll tell me 'no ethical consumption under capitalism' yet you still try to avoid buying from exploited workers- #so seems like more or less you just say that to avoid feeling any guilt about eating or contributing to the harm of animals? #just say you value human lives more and move on. #'no ethical consumption' to some people means 'i get to say this to excuse any behaviors i do that exploit others and to justify #why im only considerate about 1 (one) thing when it comes to buying stuff' #but what if you could do more than that though- clearly you only buy from places that dont exploit their workers bc of your morals and #not bc you think it actually changes things if you believe in the 'no ethical consumption' argument #so why cant you ever acknowledge that you're harming animals or try to make excuses for why its fine? ik deep down it conflicts with #your moral outlook too. you're selective about what you think you can change because theres some stuff you're unwilling to change. #be real. its not because of capitalism. you think meat tastes good and you like how leather makes you feel Cool and Badass or whatever #you feel Punk and Rock And Roll for wearing dead animals. never mind that that fascination is hard to distinguish from southern right #wingers who love their snakeskin cowboy boots and hunt for sport. #they also feel Very Cool for wearing dead animals 😒 bb girl you're not as counter culture and punk as you think you're coming off as #at least native ppl dont generally do it to Feel Cool

[dandyshucks]

i think it is a little bit funny (not necessarily haha funny but like a "huh. thats something." sort of funny) that the two main F/Os of mine (Guz and Julian) both have abusive parents fnfkdl like ,,, idk i guess like attracts like but ough theres something about that that makes me feel a little bit "this probably says too much about me" dbdkdkl (also the mk system,, and one could make an argument for the celestial robots too tbh with how theyre treated at the company djdksl)

#its been a day fhdksl #my mother is getting into some stuff that rly fucks w my brain and easily sets off psychosis symptoms so im ... ack! #im trying very hard to keep those thinking patterns out of reach and keep myself tethered but hough its gonna be a bit interesting here #the difficult thing w this is that it is impossible to disprove a lot of the thoughts and beliefs that come into play with these topics #not that arguing with delusions does any good generally speaking (and only harms usually) but ... argh ! frustrating ! #and by beliefs i mean delusions here. i do not want to argue with spiritual/religious beliefs djdksl esp if theyre not hurting anyone #i want to argue with my shitty brain trying to convince me that [redacted] is true (not going to say just in case it sets other ppl off) #and then when u throw double bookkeeping into the mix... well. now ur well and truly fucked djdkdl #ANYWAYS. it is struggle momence over here now eeyikes! #the comforting thought ''my f/o would understand my situation and would have their own experiences to draw from to know how to comfort me'' #(and i could comfort them when they struggle w flashbacks or triggers or just plain and simple difficult days) #i would never want anyone to go thru this bc it is absolute hell and nobody should ever experience this. but... #there is comfort in knowing somebody else Understands bc they've been thru it too (or similar enough that they get it) #abuse tw #vent // #for the tags mostly djfkdl #dandy.cmd

[no-one-hears-me]

people overestimate their value in my life

#need to go to bed but I've been pondering today #i am ending a friendship #we've known each other for several years and became good friends last year #but he's suddenly started treating me badly and idk why. there's no cause #we were buddies and now he's acting up #and I've had some issues with him for awhile and have considered ending our friendship before #but ik I'll miss him and all the good memories we have together #but I'm also not gonna beg him to be nicer to me when he never had any reason not to be #and he thinks that he can do whatever he wants and I'll always be there for him. but that's not true anymore #i don't need him. I've only ever valued our nice conversations but I'm not getting that anymore #i mean more to him than he means to me. I've been a better friend to him #so realistically. this will hurt him more #but he chose to do certain things and that's not my problem #I'm not gonna allow anyone to treat me like that #i have in the past out of desperation to hold on to a friendship. but i don't need friendships #I'm a busy person. i don't have time for a lot of friends so I'm gonna save that time for good ones only #and he's gonna be sooooo sad and depressed bc yk who he always comes to when something bad happens? #or when he's feeling bad? or when he needs comfort? anything like that? ME :D #soooooo now his dear old friend is done with him forever do he's gonna be so sad. who's he gonna go to for support??? #idk. not my problem 🤷‍♀️ #this is his fault bc of his own actions and choices. I've tolerated a lot from him but idc anymore #goodbye #Sera

[mondscheinprinzessin]

*slithers into the room* May I ask what the dream fic would be about? 👀 No pressure of course, you don't have to answer if you don't want to! 💖 Also *hugs* /🐍

Okay let's see what I can recall.

Under the cut for tw rape/non con, alcohol abuse, general Joel self hatred found in my fics.

It starts with one of their friends in the crew quitting their job and they have to find a replacement for let’s say the light guy. Personnel management is Niko’s and Olli’s job and they quickly find someone they would trust with the job because he had graduated from their same school, so they know each other around some corner’s.

Joel meanwhile is shocked to see that guy and not prepared for what the new arrival will entail.

He had thought he had suppressed memories well enough and would never have to think about what happened again, buried underneath other problems, save to vanish among bigger things.

But Joel remembers, and he copes badly. Basically he doesn’t know how to cope at all, so he starts drinking more. And of course that doesn’t go by the others but when Joonas asks him he says it’s nothing, it’s fine, and they can just watch, not knowing how to help Joel who is unusually silent about his problems.

They’re more playing in his head, the pictures and memories, and Joel doesn’t know how to explain them to someone else, too many feelings attached to them that threaten to overwhelm him so he stays with drinking instead of talking, unable to move past this again with the guy around so often.

Past forward to a party at Joonas’ where Joel and that light guy somehow get into an argument. I forgot the dialogue I had in mind but it was about Joel’s string of hook-ups with a lot of women and something else.

And Joel starts laughing at first because this is so ridiculous. And then he gets so so angry. Because how dare he. And he snaps at the “piece of shit” and yells some more profanities until they’re seperated by Aleksi and Tommi, and Joonas moves Joel into his own flat and tells a confused Joel he’s crying, that’s why he’s getting him away from the party.

And there we have Joel’s breakdown with Joonas by his side who begs to understand what is going on with his best friend. And it’s only when Joel has cried everything out, that he’s so numb to everything now he can tell the story without the shame and self-hatred, and bitter nausea.

It was back in school when Joel didn’t have many friends but he did some school projects with that man who is now their light guy. Joel was supposed to sleep over at his after preparing a presentation together, and it was super fun at first, Joel thought he had finally found someone worth sticking too.

One of Joel’s recent insecurities was that he thought boys were as interesting as girls? And he needed to know what it was about. So he and guy tm(I need a name for him seriously) start to kiss, just exploring what it is like. And it’s nice honestly.

But guy tm (I’ll go with Leo now) doesn’t want to stop. And well, he doesn’t care that Joel does. And he coerses him into taking off his clothes, pushing him further and further till Joel really doesn’t want to do this anymore, but Leo doesn’t care.

He just has sex with him because he wants to, and just goes to sleep after while Joel lays on the mattress on the floor not knowing what to do or to think or to feel.

That’s what he finally tells Joonas in a slow whisper (and less words). They sleep cuddled together. Joonas goes over to his own flat the next morning, having an interesting conversation with Tommi (Tommi knows about Joonas’ feelings without having to be told about it), and it’s the start of Joel and Joonas basically living together.

There’s more of Joonas pushing Joel to tell his therapist about it (since Joel thought till this point it was irrelevant to bring up), another day of Joel admitting he would rather drink now but upon Joonas asking what the second best thing would be right now, he admits he just wants to cuddle.

(Also obviously Joonas gets Leo fired even without having to tell the others exactly what happened).

There’s a scene where Joonas asks Joel if he’s interested in men at all (because of a throwaway line of Joel’s “I never looked at men/boys again after that) and you know both of them realizing they have feelings for each other.

And they do finally get together. And of course the was an emotional sex scene at the end because hey, it’s me. With “Do you want to take your shirt off?”, “Can I touch your legs?”, “Does that feel good?”. To really bring home the difference and how much Joonas cares about him.

#answered #I could have written twice as much #and I know reading this in text form isn't nearly as good as me having the scenes in my head #but yeah that's the basic #it's a loooooot of hurt with finally some comfort in the end #yeah I'm gonna be dreaming about this tonight again #snake #fic idea