Helena, 23 yrs old, mexican, INTJ-T 2w3, she/her. | I post about science, medicine, anime, videogames, music and mental health: not always tagged so if you need anything tagged feel free to tell me! | JJBA writing blog; dongiovannaswife.
be not afraid | knives takes care of you on your time of the month
wc: 1,132
cw: feminine/girl!reader, mentions of menstruation/periods, a little fluffy
notes: this is entirely based on this hilarious fanart of knives that my brain just cannot get over and i had to write him being a goof and taking care of you teehee ur welcome (also this is probably ooc so sorry in advance i'm being self-indulgent here let me live)
“knives,” you whine from the bed at the burly man seated across the room from you. you know it’s here; you can feel it from the fatigue trying to pull your eyelids back down and your brain back to sleep; the dull, scraping ache inside your body…but you’ve never had it happen while you’ve been seeing knives (to be more specific, having knives in your bedroom in person; you normally hovel away in your apartment while it runs its course). it’s normal, you know that; every month you have to deal with it, but it still pisses you off nonetheless.
at least now you have someone who can go do your errands for you instead of needing to pop a few painkillers and praying you don’t bleed out in a supermarket aisle.
you see knives’ head jerk up to meet your eyes, his face warping from mild annoyance to concern as he crosses the room. he really takes up half the room all on his own, from his massive frame and broad chest to the control of the atmosphere around him. although, you will admit that his cuddles are also legendary. who wouldn’t want a personal six-foot-five space heater in their bed at all times? especially since you tend to run colder than the average person.
“something wrong?” he asks. he can smell it in the air, you can see his nostrils dilate as he takes in that tough iron smell, and his face clears with understanding. “ahhhh,” he says, almost to himself as he kneels next to you, his huge hand reaching out to brush the hair from your forehead, placing a warm kiss on your skin. “need me to get you anything?” he questions gently, and you nod.
“yeah, probably another pack of pads and some snacks,” you respond weakly, and he nods, grabbing your water bottle and pushing it into your hands as he goes to stand again. he doesn’t forget to tuck you lightly under the covers as well, and you snuggle into them as he watches you with a sweet look on his face; he truly has nothing but admiration for you, especially during this time of the month. he knows how much it pains you, and he is in awe of how you still manage to function somewhat normally throughout it. “i’ll be right back,” he says, before shutting the door lightly behind him.
…
knives can practically see the looks burning into the back of his head as he peruses the “feminine hygiene” aisle, the array of pads and tampons and all sorts of other menstruation items scattered across the wall in front of him. why are there so many choices? which one is the best one? and why are they all so much more expensive than the condoms he picks up at the gas station when he’s in a rush? shaking his head, he fishes his phone out of his sweatpants and glances at the photo you sent him of the box of pads you currently are using. successfully finding the box, he throws a few into the basket that’s barely fit over his massive forearm as he wanders over to the snacks aisle.
he picks a few of your favorite salty snacks, along with some chocolates and sweet things, stocking up on painkillers as well before approaching the register. he definitely goes a little overkill, needing to grab two more baskets just to fit everything (and for some reason, this specific grocery store always fails to have enough carts for shoppers). the cashier looks up at him as he approaches, and then looks up at him, his face slowly draining of color. he stammers out a “oh, uh, hello, how are you,” and knives rumbles a simple “fine” as he empties his baskets and frees the plastic things from his forearms and grasp, placing them next to the bags. he can see the cashier shaking as he scans the items, and he looks like he’s mumbling “be not afraid” under his breath.
knives bites back a laugh. he knows he’s a little intimidating, what with his shocking white hair and undercut and piercing blue eyes, but jeez, this seemed a bit like overkill. luckily, the cashier seems to relax in the moments that knives stands next to the bags, silently, and after paying, he hands him the receipt with a smile that’s a little too wide, telling him to have a good day (without stumbling over his words this time).
…
you hear your apartment door open and sit up gently, wincing as the ache in your uterus twinges at the movement. your bedroom door then swings open, and knives strolls in, beaming. “you will never guess who i spooked today at the store,” he chuckles, before picking you up princess-style like you weighed nothing and walking out of the room. you yelp at the action, before looking up at him in confusion. “did you scare one of the cashiers again?” you prod as knives settles you on the couch, plenty of pillows to make sure you are as comfortable as possible, before he sits next to you, emptying the bags.
“yeah, and i’m pretty sure he kept mumbling ‘be not afraid’ under his breath,” knives chuckles again, handing you a bag of your favorite salty chips. you squeal with glee, grabbing them and ripping the bag open, shoving a few into your mouth and groaning at how good they taste. you know salty foods aren’t the best to eat during your period, but to hell with it. you just needed to eat, and frankly, nutrition doesn’t matter too much for you right now.
you both snuggle on the couch, knives’ body heat making you feel warm and soft as the afternoon drags into evening, giggling at the mental image of the poor cashier that knives had scared earlier. “you keep forgetting how big you are,” you remark, taking another bite of salty chip before opening the pack of Twix bars in the bag, patting his huge pectoral muscle. knives rolls his eyes. “i’m not that big,” he grumbles, shifting in place, “and besides, there’s guys my size and probably bigger than me who are going to the grocery store to take care of their girlfriends on their period. i can’t be the only one.”
“you’d be surprised,” you chirp, and knives look at you in real surprise now, eyebrows raised. “really? what the fuck?” he breathes, and you nod, shrugging your shoulders. “god, we really are a shitty species,” he groans, pulling you closely as you giggle, pushing your face into his chest.
you end up falling asleep like that, feeling the gentle bump of his heartbeat underneath your ear as you drift off, full of salty and sweet snacks and love.
Your traveling companion was.. a rather quirky man, to say the least.
He brandished a bright red coat, clunky, round glasses, and most importantly, a mask. All of which overshadowed the rest of his lanky form, an attempt to distract from his appearance under the mask. That of which, was never revealed to you. Your curiosity perpetually poked at you from time to time- what was he hiding?
Everyone had their own share of secrets, of things they’d rather keep to themselves, and the last thing you wanted to do was to pry.
Even when you both had gotten closer to one another, quite literally, as you were pressed in an alleyway awaiting for the coast to clear-
His mask never came off.
His torso pressed against yours, chest rising and falling rapidly. You could feel it from underneath your hands- he’d had to stabilize your stop earlier when you rushed into your hiding spot.
You didn’t have the guts to move. Not that you really wanted to. God, you longed for him, and the lack of room between you two was something you had to savor right now. His gaze darted away from you, your breath tickling his jaw. Apart of you truly hoped people would continue their chase in pursuit of you two- if only to remain this close to him.
“Uhm-“ you paused, lips brushing his jaw accidentally.
A shiver ransacked his entire being as his arms, which were propping himself up on the wall behind you, shook slightly.
“Ah, sorry-“
“Please.. quiet..” he pleaded, his mask shifting as his lips moved. You swore you could feel him biting his lip, fidgeting to the best of his ability.
You squirmed. A nervous habit.
“…mayfly…”
You tried to pull back, observing him. In the time you’ve known him, he’s relatively hard to read. Mask and all, obscuring the majority of his facial features (save for his eyes, hidden behind round orange lenses). The pinch of his brows gave way to his uneasiness.
“Did I make you uncomfortable?” You murmured, voice rumbling slightly.
He shook his head, eyes heady. His dark lashes fluttered oh so beautifully, mole peeking a bit past his mask. His reply was breathy. “You.. you can’t keep teasing me like this.”
You blink owlishly. Once. Twice. So you weren’t assuming things.
"Do you want me to stop..?" You drew your question out, heart thrumming in your chest. Zeroing in, awaiting his reply.
He gave a brief shake of his head, eyes wide. As if it would kill him, he clung to any crumb of affection you had to offer. You hoped it wasn't circumstantial, knowing full well that if he had asked the same of you that you would absolutely never refuse.
In a flashing moment of bravery, you pecked his cheek. The fabric of his mask felt smooth on your lips, a small kissing sound resonating in the tight space between you two. Then his lips moved from underneath the mask, upturning the corner of his eyes cheekily.
"Hah.. you uh.. you missed."
"Huh?"
You felt fabric against your lips once again, although you really wish you didn't. Curiosity pried at you, as feverish as the kiss. What was once a chaste meeting of lips separated by that godforsaken mask turned into him cupping your face, your back pressed to the wall amidst the barren alleyway. You felt his chest heaving against yours, the repetitive motion comforting, in a sense.
He felt.. so warm. So comforting. His palms to your cheeks, enveloping your face in its immeasurable value. Pure want coursed throughout you, appreciation seeping into the kiss. Perhaps one day, he'd be able to bare himself to you, to meet the plush of his lips, flesh to flesh as you breathed one another in. Perhaps one day, you'd be able to pepper kisses on his bare face the way you'd imagined every few times where you allowed your mind to wander. He was a beauty in your eyes, his lashes fluttering in a demure fashion whenever he pulled away, only to kiss you once more.
But for now? You were content with the press of your bodies, flush to one another as you felt the fabric of his mask dampen, the movement of what you knew to be his lips meeting yours.
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