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one-green-frog · 3 months ago

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Hellooooo

Hope you're having a good day :)

Platonic yandere batfam x male/gn reader who's trying to hie their powers and/or scars?

Frostbitten

Yan!Batfam x m!reader with ice powers, because i love iceman (x-men)

You were always good at hiding things. Even before all the training you received from the world's best detective. You lived a life of secrets even before you met your family, every day spent living as if the next moment your secret would be spilled. You learned to hide the scars, hide the accidents, you needed to, especially living in Gotham, the city where Batman ruled and one thing that Batman hated was metas

It is common knowledge that Batman hates them, hates their powers and hates them especially when they can't be controlled. So you hid them, never trying to learn how to control, just how to hide. Maybe that was your biggest mistake, but who could fault you, you just wanted to live a simple live in this god awful city.

And then you got adopted by Bruce Wayne, a dream come true. Suddenly you were thrust in this new life, filled with joy and laughter and a very loving family, you cherished every moment with them. But even more surprising was when they revealed their secret vigilante life. In that moment you didn't know whether to feel excited or scared. Sure, you looked up to Gotham’s vigilantes, almost everyone did, but you had a secret to hide, you had to keep it locked away and your biggest enemy is a family filled with detectives and a father that hates metas.

If you could hide your powers, hide the scars, then maybe everything would just be alright. Maybe they'd just dissappear and everything could be normal for once, a normal life with an almost normal family. They could never find out.

Because Bruce didn’t want those powers in Gotham. He never said it outright, not to your face, but he didn’t have to. You heard the way he talked about metas. Heard the tension in his voice when a case came in involving superhumans. How he preferred things predictable. Grounded. Human. Easy to controll

So you made yourself human.

Your family never asked why you always write long sleeves, even in some. Sure, the occasional "Aren't you hot? " was asked, but simply denying it sobbed that problem. Honestly you never were, you naturally run cold, probably because of you powers. The scars on your hands were a bit more difficult to hide, running around in gloves was just too obvious so when asked you simply told them it made you uncomfortable to talk about. Your family, every supportive and loving, stopped asking, not wanting to make you uneasy though their worried gazes never left you.

In all honesty, life was great, especially after you joined them on patrol. The training was hard, but worth it if it meant you could accompany them during the night. Everything was great.

Until it all fell apart.

It had been instinct, really.

The building was collapsing, a hostage still trapped inside, and you didn’t have time to wait. You didn’t even think. Just felt the fear spike in your chest—and then you were moving.

And freezing.

Everything in front of you exploded in jagged ice—brilliant, unnatural, alive. It lanced out from your arms, blooming outward, catching the falling beams, holding the wreckage suspended mid-air. You grabbed the girl, carried her out, felt her tremble in your arms—not from the danger, but from the cold that clung to your skin like a curse. You didn't even have time to feel relieved after exiting the flaming building, not when you saw the shocked faced of you family. In you adrenaline high you didn't think that they were just shocked, no, to you their faces obviously showed detestation. Especially Batman, clearly the guy with the no-meta-rule would absolutely loath you no matter if you are his kid or not.

You didn’t go home after that.

You couldn’t.

Not when you could still feel the way they looked at you.

Not angry. Not yet. But surprised. Confused. Like they didn’t know you anymore.

And if they didn’t know you—if they saw what you really were—what was stopping them from pushing you away?

You practically ripped the comms from you ear and ran. They could find you if they really wanted to, but you were hoping—praying—they wouldn’t.

Not until you could breathe again.

Not until the ice stopped crawling up your spine.

Not until the scars stopped burning.

---

You ended up in the park.

It was late. Empty.

Perfect since you wanted bo one to bother you.

You sat under the trees, hands shoved deep in your jacket, hood pulled low, hands shaking. You kept your gloves on, even though they were already half-frozen. They didn't protect you from anything, it was a way to hide the ice, hide it away so you couldn't see it. But you could feel the ache in your skin—those little jagged lines across your arms and hands, like old lightning strikes. Nerve damage, probably. But it wasn’t the nerves that hurt.

It was the memory.

Of growing up cold.

Of hurting people by accident.

Of locking yourself in closets to cry because your body didn’t know what to do with heat, and every time your emotions spiked, you left frostbite behind.

You used to think you’d grow out of it.

That was the lie that kept you going.

A nightmare that would someday finally end.

But now you were older. And it was worse than ever.

And now Bruce knew.

Your family knew.

And everything was ruined.

They were looking for you.

You should’ve expected that.

Dick was the first one you spotted—high above, on the buildings, doing that graceful acrobat silhouette thing he always did when he thought no one was watching. You could tell he was worried. He kept checking corners like he thought you'd vanish into shadows.

You pulled your hood lower.

Then you heard Red Hood.

Jason was stomping through the park like he’d kill the trees if they got in his way. Angry. Shaking. He was yelling your name now and then, but it wasn’t rage in his voice—it was panic. You’d never heard that tone from him before. Not even on the worst nights.

You turned away. Curled tighter. Pulled your knees to your chest and tried to stop the cold from spreading.

It was Tim who found you.

Of course it was.

He wasn’t loud. He wasn’t dramatic.

He just sat down beside you without a word. Quiet. Calm. Familiar.

You didn’t look at him.

Didn’t say anything.

But you felt the warmth of his presence, and you hated yourself for shivering closer to it.

He wrapped his cape, it did little to fight the cold.

Then he finally spoke

“Why didn’t you tell us?” he asked finally. Not accusing. Just soft. Tired.

You couldn’t answer.

You were too scared your voice would crack.

Too scared to speak the truth into the world.

Jason showed up next. Then Dick. Damian, sulking behind them, wrapped in one of Alfred’s scarves. They didn’t drag you home. They didn’t guilt you. They just sat. All around you. On the frozen grass. Wherever they could.

And Bruce came last.

Of course he did.

Silent. Steady.

You almost wanted him to yell. To be angry. To say you betrayed them. To banish you from the city.

It would’ve been easier.

But instead, he crouched in front of you, face unreadable.

“Do you want to come home?” he asked quietly.

That question shattered you.

Because you did.

God, you did.

But you didn’t think you deserved it.

They got you back to the manor somehow. You barely remember it.

Everything felt distant. Fuzzy. Like a dream you weren’t allowed to wake up from.

You ended up in your room, wrapped in three blankets and a hoodie you forgot you owned. Tim was fiddling with the thermostat. Dick was in the hallway talking to Alfred about heat pads, while Damian gathered all his pets to join you in bed.

Jason was closest.

He sat beside your bed, glaring at your hands like he wanted to fight them.

You didn’t mean to, but you flinched.

“I’m not mad,” he said, voice lower than usual. “Just… you’ve been hurting. For a long time. And you didn’t tell

The next day they finally saw you hands

They didn’t ask. But they were there when you woke up from a nightmare and ripped your gloves off in a panic. They saw the spiderweb of pale, cracked skin down your arms. The frostbitten patches. The places where the cold had eaten away at you from the inside.

You waited for them to recoil.

They didn’t.

Dick sat beside you and ran warm fingers along the worst lines, like they were battle scars, not damage, not a curse. He pressed his forehead to yours and said nothing.

Jason kissed the top of your head and told you that scars didn’t make you ugly.

Damian brought a salve that smelled like mint and helped rub it into your palms.

Tim found you a compression shirt designed for cryogenic trauma. Quietly handed it to you like it wasn’t a big deal.

Bruce didn’t say much.

He just held your hand one night when you were shaking too hard to sleep.

And didn’t let go.

That night you cried yourself to sleep, either from exhaustion or because of all the emotions going through you. That night you also realized that your family truly loved you. Bruce explained that he never could hate you or any meta, he was simply scared of what could happen to them or the people around them.

They loved you.

Not despite the cold—but including it.

The way the frost followed your footsteps. The way your tears came out as vapor in the air. The way you always wore gloves, even when it wasn’t needed.

They learned to warm your sheets before bed. Left heating pads in your seat at dinner. Gave you permission to feel—even when it made the walls frost over.

You were scared for so long.

But they never were.

You weren’t the monster.

Just a boy with ice in his blood, and too much fear in his heart.

And a family who would walk through a blizzard to bring you home.

Thank you for requesting, i absolutely loved writing this, i hope this is similar to how you imagined it! And sorry it took so long!

Taglist: @lilyalone

#male reader #x male reader #dc x you #dc x male reader #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #batfamily x reader #dick grayson x male reader #tim drake x male reader #jason todd x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #bruce wayne x male reader #platonic yandere #fluff #batfamily

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lay-z · 5 months ago

Text

barbed-wire kisses | 1

Synopsis: Soap, the SAS and 141's most prized explosives detection hybrid and demolitions expert, gets a new handler.

Pairing: hybrid!John ‘Soap’ MacTavish x fem!handler!Reader Warnings/Info: 18+ | Soap is a purebred German Shepherd hybrid. Despite ears, tails, and their adopted nature/instincts/personalities, hybrids have human features. | enemies strangers to lovers; forbidden love; angst; hurt/comfort; heavy smut; eventual romance; canon-typical violence; military inaccuracies; dom/sub elements; forced submission; cussing; humour (Please mind the warnings for each chapter!)

Based on this idea 🩶

Big thanks to my bestie @bloodytalefeathers for helping me handling our boy Soap 🐶

It’s always a rather impersonal affair as a hybrid serving in the military–getting a new handler assigned and vice versa.

John sniffs you out, of course, before Captain Price even has the chance to properly introduce you. When the Sergeant is given your file along with the handlership documents on a random Wednesday in February–the ones you’ve already signed a few weeks prior–he gets one deep whiff of your musk still lingering on the paper and starts prowling the base on the lookout for his new target.

Despite the many familiar, surrounding scents among the different smells announcing the beginning of spring, it doesn’t take too long for a specimen like him to pick up on and find you on the large military base, letting the winds do most of the work for him.

He's just way too good at his job, and his little self-imposed challenge leaves his chest puffing with pride and the blood in his veins buzzing with an odd eagerness to meet you once he finally spots you among the large crowd of soldiers on the training grounds.

John decides to skip his lunchbreak and watch you instead. He takes a seat on a well-positioned bench with a good view of the field where you’re currently going through drills with a platoon that you’re serving as their temporary CO. His tail swishes lazily against the wooden planks of the bench, pushing off some dry leaves that gathered there.

He’s read about you, knows that you’ve just come back from a five-month overseas deployment in Al Mazrah–supporting their local forces with the training of the serving hybrids, among other duties.

John can see it in the tension you carry in your neck and shoulders, in the way you keep checking your surroundings while you give orders to your soldiers, and with the dark circles under your eyes–all of it speaks volumes of how well you’ve adjusted to living on base again so far, and, boy, does it look bad.

On top of that, you’ve just been transferred to Hereford from your previous base and task force–after getting your new orders while you were still deployed–so you must be twice as stressed and thrice as vexed about this whole new arrangement you’re finding yourself in right now, thanks to the brass. He also knows that you’ve already moved and settled into your new place close to the barracks. Close to where he lives, too.

Fucking brilliant, John thinks, and his large furry ears twitch as he grins wickedly. It’ll be more than easy to get rid of you if you’re already feeling this worn out; perhaps even easier than it went with the previous handlers he’s had since boot camp.

None of them ever made it past the six-month mark before they were transferred again due to their incompetence, though none of the higher-ups has ever admitted fault and called it what it is.

No, it’s always just been ‘Soap being a bloody handful’, slippery and clever as he simply happens to be, and yet the brass still keeps refusing him that exceptional permission which would finally grand him freedom–the freedom to operate without a handler on, and to a certain degree, off duty.

He is a canine hybrid, yes, and his nature might make him extraordinary, aye, but he’s not a fucking toddler in need of assistance and guidance 24/7. It’s bad enough that his rank as Sergeant can easily be outranked by a human subordinate simply because he happens to be a hybrid.

His thought process is disturbed by the crunching of boots on the gravelly road leading up to his makeshift recon spot, when a group of soldiers walks up the rolling hill to have a smoke break.

Scrunching up his sensitive nose at the stench of cigarettes despite being used to the smell, John gives up his seat for the group, straightening his shoulders with a curt nod at them before he makes his way back to HQ.

There’s a meeting he needs to prepare for after all.

A few hours later, the briefing room clears again when everyone claims to not have any questions left to simply get it over with.

“Right,” Price utters roughly. “I’ll leave you two to it then. Lieutenant,” he gives you a curt nod and John has to suppress a smirk when the Captain shoots him a glare as soon as his back is turned towards you. “Soap.” And John can hear the stern warning underlying Price’s voice before the latter leaves the briefing room and shuts the door behind him with finality and a raging ball of concern lodged in his guts.

And even though Price has left, and took his commanding aura right with him, the room feels even smaller and stuffy now with only you and John, standing across from each other like it’s a Mexican Standoff.

While John lets his eyes roam freely, assessing you thoroughly and searching for weaknesses, you simply keep your sharp eyes trained on his with a kind of effortlessness that is slowly making the fur on his tail bristle–up, up, up his spine until it tickles his neck and makes his ears twitch involuntarily.

Your hands are firmly clasped behind your back, your stance relaxed as your hip leans against the table behind you; keeping your whole front exposed and vulnerable while you’re oozing nonchalance and confidence with no trace left of all that tension and fatigue he’d noticed earlier when he was watching you train with your platoon.

You almost look… bored now that you’re finally alone with him, and John doesn’t quite know what to make of this reaction.

His thick brows furrow and he caves, despising the tense silence already. “Ye not gonna say nothin’, lass?”

Suddenly, your lips twitch into a humourless half-smile. “That’s still ‘Lieutenant’ to you, Sergeant,” you reply coolly. “We’re no friends yet.”

“Right,” he half-snorts, half-huffs in response. “Well, ‘am lookin’ forward ta workin’ with ye, ma’am.” If you’re just a wee bit clever, you could easily pick up on the sarcasm in his words, and judging by the way your eyebrow twitches, you can. His tail swishes proudly in response, and then John mirrors your stance; clasping his hands behind his back before rolling his broad shoulders and straightening up to his full height.

“Oh, are you now?” It’s a rhetorical question, and John finds the way you tilt your head to the side like a wee pup utterly adorable, along with the fact that he’s taller than you, forcing you to crane your neck if you want to maintain eye-contact with him despite the thick-soled combat boots you’re wearing.

“Well, in that case–” You bring your arms forward suddenly, clutching a black collar in your hand; brand new and personalized, the scent of its full-grain leather still fresh and thick in the air. His eyes zero in on your name and rank stitched into it, along with your emergency contact and military ID number. “May I?”

John’s tail stills, bright eyes widening imperceptibly as he stares at the collar and processes the implication behind your words. He doesn’t get collared like this, no; usually grabs the damn mandatory thing and puts it on himself to get it over with.

“Ye insistin’ to put it on me, la–Lieutenant?”

You simply stare up at him with those unimpressed, gorgeous eyes – eyes that have seen as much, perhaps even more, horrific crap he has in combat–and his heart starts jumping in his chest in return. “You tell me, Sergeant. You wanna be a difficult pup?”

He swallows hard, clenching his teeth and wrinkling his nose at the raw condescension in your voice. Aye, he wants to make this difficult, wants to get rid of you already and let everyone know that he doesn’t need a handler–doesn’t need you–and yet he can only shake his head slowly while you stand before him so confidently, triggering his natural urge to please, to submit to a leader.

None of your predecessors ever made him feel quite like–this–so effortlessly. They always tried to force it yet never succeeded.

Almost subconsciously, John steps forward, towering over you though you still don’t move a muscle before he leans down, bracing his palms on the table you’re leaning against, now practically bracketing you in. “Go ahead, then,” he hums roughly, lowering his gaze to hide the way his pupils are dilating while his skin begins to prickle at the sudden close proximity to you.

As you unclasp the collar to bring it up to his neck, he gets a real whiff of your scent and nearly groans; an all-natural concoction of female pheromones, sweat and skin hidden underneath a layer of artificial peach-scented body wash and deodorant. His mouth starts salivating and he gulps it down harshly, fingers twitching against the table as you fasten the collar around his neck.

“Atta boy,” you mutter and your warm breath puffs against his rapidly flushing skin, making his pulse jump in his neck. His dog ears twitch as he leans in closer until his nose nearly brushes against your shoulder and he exhales a shuddering breath as the collar finally wraps around his throat.

“Need it a wee bit tighter, ma’am,” he rumbles and his breath hitches as you oblige; he swallows thickly, barely able to, while the leather creaks and tightens, pressing against his Adam’s apple snugly. You fasten it with nimble fingers, leaving goosebumps in their wake and his pulse sky-rockets at once. “Aye… perfect,” he breathes, almost panting now, his voice strained while another tingle runs down his spine that has warmth pooling between his thighs, and his cock chuffing in his boxers with interest.

An unexpected chuckle makes his eyes flicker up to meet yours again. “I see how it is, Sergeant,” you muse, a hint of a smile playing on your lips that makes him smirk boyishly in return.

Then, your index finger hooks through the metal loop for his leash, and another gentle tug makes his heart flutter and his chest rumble with a playful growl.

“Well then, let’s get to fucking work, MacTavish.”

And it’s the firmness in your words or the pure determination twinkling in your eyes that leaves John’s tail wagging.

Perhaps both.

#barbed-wire kisses #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #call of duty #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #cod hybrid au #hybrid au #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x you #soap mactavish x you

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omgfangirlland · 5 months ago

Text

The Shadows That Nurture 13

I saw these suits and I had an epiphany while thinking about what the bat sis should wear: one and two

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 13 >>next

It always took a while for you to process something, especially this. You thought you’ll be fine- another shitty dad, nothing new, just keep yourself busy- work, college, train Mark, help around the house, repeat… You never realized how much you actually loved the man, how attached you grew to him despite how hard you tried to brush it off. You never realized until you crashed out after a mission while seeing a kid cry for their parents.

You moved behind some buildings, hiding between some industrial trash bins, curled into a ball, and just broke down. Bruce was whatever, he didn’t choose you like he chose the others, but Nolan did. The fucker went out of his way to take you- and yet… And yet neither Debbie, Mark nor you were enough to make him stay, to make him think of you lot as more than pets he can throw away. Those thoughts clouded your mind, and turned on you quickly, not even the shadows could soothe the pain.

The Immortal found you an hour later and gently picked you up. “It’s not your fault.” Was the only thing he said while he carried you home. After that Cecil insisted you take a break, which you found absurd, you were self-employed, worked under your own company, and the taxes you paid proved that, but you didn’t fight it. So, you’ve been rotting in your bed for a bit, simply not finding the energy to do anything but keep yourself clean and occasionally cook, just to help Debbie a bit.

The funeral of the Guardians went and passed, Mark had taken to moving into your room before he went to University, Eve, Amber, Samson, John, and your college friends occasionally visited. You haven’t seen Immortal since he got in a yelling match with Mark, calling you both as dangerous as Nolan. That had set your mental health back a few days.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

John didn’t go back to the Justice League space station, he hung around for a bit, letting you hang onto him for a while, until you fell asleep. He didn’t go even when you were deep into the dream world. Constantine still stayed around, mostly sitting on the edge of the couch you slept on, only moving when Debbie invited him to some wine. He left the next day after you woke up.

So, when the pull of an emergency teleportation triggered and made him almost kiss the ground he wasn’t surprised to see the mug of an angry Batman with photos of your civilian persona from the fight with your dad and a screenshot of your hero persona wearing the “I killed the joker” T-shirt next to a tourist on the big screens. “Explain.” Was the only thing that came out of Bruce.

Constantine just sighed from the depths of his soul while pulling a chair and lighting a cigarette, ignoring Superman and Wonder Woman. “Could explain a lot of stuff, Batsy, be specific.” John didn’t even flinch as Batman slammed his fist on the table. “She killed the Joker.”

“Doesn’t look like I need to explain anything then, mate.” John blows the smoke away from Batman, he wasn’t that ballsy. ”You already know she killed him, what more would you want?”

“We just want to know how you know her. How you know Omni-Man.” Superman was quick to play the good cop, but John just shrugged. Honestly, he had to deal with way too many shades because of the clown, good riddance. “She’s a friend, none of you could kill her. Slow her down? Mm, maybe. Eliminate her? Never.” He knew killing was never Batman’s plan A, but he wasn’t betting on it.

“As for her daddy…” He sighs again, rubbing his temple. “He’s a Viltrumite, they conquer words and ‘better’ them. Why care now? You never did before.” John was referring to both you and the Viltrumites. “She’s a dangerous unknown.” Ah, and this is why Bobo was named the greatest detective and not the Bat. “And if the Viltrumites are as dangerous as you’ve said-“

“You only want to do something about it now because it may affect you.” John got up slowly not looking away as Batman towered over him. “The Viltrumites don’t have a kryptonite, Bruce.” He growled at the man. “We either get another fifty Supermen to beat their heads in until they stop moving or we change their mind. And look how well that option went for The Sorceress and Invincible.” Batman’s frown only deepened.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Black Samson was beyond worried. The Immortal had been off the hinges for a long while, hot and cold, black and white, exploding at anything and everything, the kids were driving him insane, and you were still missing in action. So, he did what any reasonable man his age would do and snuck into a young woman’s room. Yours specifically.

“Alright, I’ve had enough! You’ve been rotting-“ He stopped as soon as he saw you in your hero gear eating a bowl of sliced fruit. “…I was just eating a snack before going out.” You said while munching away. “Oh… Are you-“

“No… But it’ll be quite hypocritical of me to be mopping around when I nagged you every other week to get back outside.” You shrug. “I’ll get better… eventually. But It’ll take time.” Samson seems to relax at that. “And I had a whole speech-“ You snicker at that. “Yeah- my speech.”

“It was a great speech.” He tried defending himself. “It got me outside and everything.” You smiled, unable to argue with such sound logic. “Thank you for checking up on me, Sam.”

“You’re welcome, kid.” The man smiled at you before turning back to the window. “Now if you excuse me, I’ll leave. I do not want to explain to your mom why I am here-“ The devilish amused cackle that left you only urged the man to hurry.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You did get better… kind of. But it was good enough to make you put up with Lex and his blasted party. Granted, seeing your mom, Mark, and your friends enjoying the party, and destroying the free buffet, made you happy. You were hiding out on the balcony anyway.

“If your mother knew you were drinking alcohol without supervision, she’d have my head. Nice suit.” You snorted at Luthor’s words as he joined you, leaning on the railing with you. “You’d make a nice taxidermy trophy. And thanks, wanted to be different from the other girls.” You joked, nudging the man.

You both took in Metropolis’ night sky, enjoying the silence for a few seconds. “Why is the Immortal looking at you with such sad puppy eyes?” You snort. “Why are Wayne and the Kents here?” Lex just gave a shrug and a shit-eating smirk. “You like the Kents, Bruce Wayne wants to meet The Sorceress on the bat’s behalf, and I forgot to send my secretary the list of guests that was custom-made for the occasion and didn’t have ninety percent of the people here.”

“I like Lois Lane, both Bruce and the Bat can die, and-“ You sigh, rubbing at your temple. “Somehow, I believe that last part. Why are you so attached to my hip, anyway?” Lex gives a sarcastic laugh. “Nice way to avoid my question, but to answer yours, maybe I just want to enjoy the company of my greatest little helper.”

The look that you gave him was a clear expression of how much you thought the man was high on alien weed. “If by helper you’re referring to me calling you stupid for forgetting to check PFAS and Asbestos levels while snapping pictures for the Pulitzer winner herself, Lois Lane- sure. I believe you.”

This is why Luthor enjoyed your madness. The sarcasm, the banter, the mocking with no hard feelings. It made him feel normal. He almost shivered at the thought, perishing it immediately. “There also, might be a mercenary who paid quite a lot to get a seat and have the chance to meet you.”

“Is he mad? Don’t answer that, I don’t think you’re a good judge of that.” You take a sip from your glass. “He’s quite reputable, Slade Willson. He’s-“ You immediately interrupt him. “I know who that is and what he does. Don’t you find it fishy how an apparent assassin with supposed morals just knew you’d host such a thing?”

“Don’t bother- I won’t believe a word that comes out of your smug ass face. I want half of what he gave you.” Lex Luthor just smiled brighter. “I’ll give you the full amount if you come back and tell me everything.” You laugh and accept the deal. You’d never pass on a good gossiping session.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Damn.” Lois said as Clark finished parroting back what he heard from the other side of the room. “I know that she doesn’t like you because she doesn’t know you-“ She said while looking at her husband before turning to Bruce. “But what did you do?”

Bruce’s scowl seemed permanent these past days, his blank look telling Lois that the man was beyond tired, and his silence told her that he didn’t know. “I don’t like how close she is to Luthor.” Clark whispers. “He’s not a good role model for anyone, let alone a young girl who just lost her father. And Slade…”

“She hangs with a lot of rich people and rogues, even talks to some from Gotham.” Bruce frowned at the information Lois provided. “She texts Red Hood and the Sirens quite a lot when she stays around me as I work.” Bruce stopped listening after as his eyes caught you and the bald eagle coming back inside, and he acted.

He quickly passed past the Kents, putting on his Brucie persona and grabbing a full glass of red wine, acting slightly drunk while walking right to the prize. He greeted business people and heroes, walking in a slight zig-zagged pattern to imitate dizziness and when he was close enough, he stumbled. The wine in his glass flew and hit its target.

“Oh, sweetheart, I am so sorry-“ His hand was slapped away as you shook with anger, your suit ruined by the wine, and your skin getting sticky. “Don’t you dare touch me-“ You hiss at the man, making his expression shake. “For fucks sake- you two-faced snake, are you just out to ruin everything I have?”

Something in you just snapped as you saw him act like a fool, knowing better than anyone it was all fake, so your hand just moved, grabbing a plate of mini cakes and smashing the sweets right in his face. “Why can’t you just leave me by, asshole?!” You spread the syrupy sweets on the front of his tux and let the plate fall on his feet, dirtying those too.

Lex wasn’t the only one enjoying the show. Slade immediately took the opportunity to join your other side as you tried to dry your neck and shirt. The mercenary politely greeted Luthor, ignored the still in shock Bruce, and introduced himself to you, offering to pay for the cleanup. “You’ll have to excuse Mr. Wayne he’s quite the imbecile.”

Bruce couldn’t even fight the allegation, it was well played by Willson, and acting like a drunk didn’t help his case. So, he just watched as the older man led her away. “Honestly, Brucie. What did you expect to happen? You’ve become too sloppy.” Lex mocked him, but his prideful smirk went away as soon as Mark and Immortal appeared in front of him, Invincible asked Bruce why he was here while the other man asked who he was.

Those two got distracted by each other, turning their anger on one another as they hissed insult after insult. “Oh, boy.” With Luthor’s mutter of disappointment, Bruce turned back, walking to the Kents. “It could have been worse. If it were me, I would have killed you for that, especially as the birthday girl.” Lois said while looking at Bruce. The man just grunts, neither noticing the way Clark tensed up at the information he heard by eavesdropping on Invincible and Immortal.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Bruce felt beyond exhausted while he dropped in his chair, blankly looking through the Batcomputer, trying to register everything that happened. “Master Bruce!” He didn’t get a moment of peace before Alfred burst through the door, stopping a few feet in front of him while clutching a picture frame.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou @asillysimp @aalunar @cxcilla

I said it once, I'll say it again, I always feel like I'm forgetting something.

#neglected reader #yandere x reader #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x neglected reader #yandere batfam x reader #yandere invincible #dc x invincible #dc crossover #invincible crossover #yandere batfamily #fem!reader #female!reader

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liviawildrose · 1 month ago

Text

𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦 𝟏𝟎𝟏

the cold truth: your brain is the boss of your reality

your brain is not just a squishy organ in your skull. it’s a pattern-detecting, future-projecting, meaning-assigning machine. and your nervous system? it’s the messenger. the mood conductor. the switchboard for every single emotional, physical, spiritual vibe you feel.

if your nervous system is dysregulated (and let’s be honest most of us walking around with trauma, burnout, bad parenting, too much social media, and zero rest it is), then your brain is operating in survival mode. not goddess mode.

you feel like shit because your nervous system is hijacked

this is not your personality. this is your programming.

are you always anxious, snappy, emotionally numb, overly sensitive, tired but wired, can’t focus, can’t sleep, stuck in loops of overthinking? or maybe you feel shut down, depressed, numb, foggy, dissociated, hopeless?

you might be in dorsal vagal shutdown. it’s the freeze state. it’s what your body does when the danger feels too big to fight or run from.

and if you’re just constantly overstimulating your brain with useless content, noise, stress, porn, gossip, sugar, or doomscrolling congrats. you’re in a state of what i like to call:

✨ neural masturbation ✨

aka: mental overstimulation with zero productive output. feels good short-term, wrecks your life long-term.

but wait, you can rewire all this.

1. nervous system regulation

this is the foundation. nothing in your life changes until your nervous system feels safe. period.

→ vagus nerve activation (the holy grail):

• cold showers / face in ice water

• deep belly breathing (inhale 4, exhale 8)

• humming / chanting / singing

• slow rhythmic movement (like walking, swimming, yoga)

• touch / pressure (weighted blanket, self hugs)

• grounding in nature (barefoot on grass, laying on the earth)

→ cut stimulation

• limit social media + screen time

• no phones in bed

• 1 hour in silence every day (no input = integration)

→ rest like it’s your job

• nap

• stare at the ceiling

• do nothing without guilt

• let your brain process and chill

now relax cause first i’m gonna tell y’all about

YOUR NERVOUS SYSTEM

the nervous system is your body’s electric language.

it’s what lets you feel, move, react, survive, and thrive.

if your brain is the CPU, then your nervous system is the WiFi. and let me tell you:

bad WiFi = glitchy reality

strong, stable WiFi = smooth, sexy manifestation pipeline

so when you’re stuck in fear, shame, doubt, overthinking, self-hate spirals —

it’s often your nervous system crying:

“yo… i’m overloaded. i need safety. i need co-regulation. i need a hug and some fkn magnesium.”

THE THREE NERVOUS SYSTEM MODES

1. SYMPATHETIC STATE – “FIGHT or FLIGHT”

• activated by threat, stress, trauma, survival

• you feel: anxious, restless, angry, hyper, can’t sit still, can’t stop thinking

• body: tense muscles, shallow breath, maybe stomach issues

• mind: “i have to do more or else i’ll fail”

and the way my biology teacher told us “when you have your cumulative test in a hour and you haven’t prepared for it”

this is your hustler mode but in survival. it’s useful in short bursts, but living here full-time burns you out.

2. DORSAL VAGAL – “FREEZE or FAWN”

• when you’re overwhelmed AF, so your system shuts down

• you feel: numb, hopeless, dissociated, heavy, tired all the time, unmotivated

• mind: “what’s the point… nothing matters. i’ll never succeed.”

• body: depression, chronic fatigue, no appetite or bingeing, low energy

most depressed people stay in this state, notice how nothing exite them anymore? yeah that’s the reason

this is the shutdown zone. not your fault. your system is protecting you from past danger.

3. VENTRAL VAGAL – “SAFE & SOCIAL”

• the state of calm, creativity, confidence, clarity

• you feel: grounded, happy, motivated, connected, flowy

• body: relaxed shoulders, steady breath, sparkle in the eyes

• mind: “i got this. life is working for me. i’m safe to be seen and succeed.”

THIS is where you create magic. THIS is where you’re magnetic. THIS is where you manifest with ease.

✨ HOW TO REGULATE YOUR NERVOUS SYSTEM AND BECOME GODMODE ✨

literally regulate your nervous system and you’ll watch your life snap into place. here’s the top practices to get you into your divine ventral state daily:

breath work

slow, deep breathing tells your brain: “you’re safe now”

• box breathing (4–4–4–4) = calms anxiety

• 4-7-8 breathing = activates parasympathetic calm response

• deep belly breaths = nervous system reset. not chest. not shallow. go deep.

cold showers and face dips

“wtf” i know — but science supports this

cold activates your vagus nerve = instant mental reset

you’re literally shocking your body out of panic

BILATERAL STIMULATION (aka EMDR-style techniques)

• tapping left/right sides of your body

• eye movement back and forth

• walking with intention

this helps you process trauma, rewire beliefs, and regulate emotions

it brings both brain hemispheres into sync = POWER MODE

LISTEN TO BINAURAL BEATS + SUBLIMINALS

• 528Hz = love, healing

• 963Hz = crown chakra, divine connection

• 432Hz = natural harmony

• subliminals + these = subconscious and nervous system healing

layer it up like your sonic skincare.

CO-REGULATION / TOUCH / SAFETY

you are not meant to heal alone.

being near people who feel calm + safe will literally regulate your system through mirror neurons.

hugs, holding hands, even voice notes from your bff = nervous system gold.

even petting a dog. even hugging a pillow with lavender oil.

your nervous system doesn’t care if it’s “real” or not. it just wants love.

btw, i’m always here to listen to ya so 💗

now we talk about brain

YOUR BRAIN IS A GODDAMN UNIVERSE. TREAT IT LIKE ONE.

so let’s get this straight:

you wanna be that global idol, soloist, actress, ceo, dancer, doctor, engineer, model, teacher, lawyer, the prettiest face of luxury brands, walk with your head high while everyone’s eyes are glued to you like you’re gravity itself?

then honey? you better be training your brain like it’s a fucking star, like the most important asset of your life.

let’s talk about RAS (reticular activating system) — the gateway to your dream reality

the RAS is a filter in your brainstem that decides what you notice in the world.

you ever learn a new word and suddenly hear it everywhere? or think about someone and they text you?

that’s RAS in action. it’s the brain’s “selective attention” system.

and here’s the wild part:

✨ it’s programmable. ✨

so if you wake up and feed it images of wealth, beauty, love, success, peace, power

the RAS will start scanning the environment for ways to make that real.

you’ll start seeing opportunities.

you’ll meet the right people.

you’ll “magically” land where you need to be.

it’s not coincidence. it’s science.

✧ start here: train your RAS everyday

1. create a vision board (digital, physical, mental doesn’t matter)

2. make a mind movie (a video of your dream life set to music that activates you)

3. record your affirmations in your own voice and listen to them while you get ready

4. journal like you’re already living your dream —“today i woke up in paris with flowers on my balcony…” (you can totally use chatgpt for this)

your subconscious doesn’t know the difference between real + imagined.

so imagine obsessively.

protect your cognitive real estate:

aka: no, you don’t need to be in every group chat. no, you don’t need to scroll till 3am.

attention is your most expensive currency.

every time you give it to something stupid, you’re telling your RAS: “this is what matters.”

→ unfollow people who drain you

→ clear your digital clutter

→ 1 hour a day = no screen, no noise, just you

→ read real books. journal like it’s a prayer. stare into space and let your brain breathe

your nervous system is a little animal you have to soothe it like one.

stop trying to “outthink” your trauma.

you have to out-feel it. (that’s what therapist are for)

you don’t need a new life.

you need a nervous system that can hold the life you already want.

nervous system magic:

• vagus nerve stim: humming, chanting, cold exposure, slow touch

• qigong, yoga, cat-cow movements

• barefoot on the earth

• safe connection: hug someone. or yourself. or a pillow. oxytocin heals.

• rest like a ritual: sleep in blackout, no screens 2 hours before bed, soft music, magnesium

build a focus temple in your life

focus is the biggest asset in today’s world

you can’t be god-level if you’re scattered.

ritualize your focus like monks light incense:

• pick one sacred hour of the day for deep work

• same playlist, same drink, same setup every time = anchors your brain

• eliminate all distractions. wear headphones. close tabs. put phone in another room.

• set timer. 25 mins on, 5 mins off. brain LOVES structure.

discipline is not punishment.

discipline is devotion to the future you.

final rituals: become a high-frequency brain baddie

• daily dopamine reset: no phone for first 30 mins. no junk food. movement > screen.

• write “evidence logs”: every time something good happens, write it down. builds trust.

• label your thoughts: not “i suck” → “this is a scarcity thought pattern. i choose abundance.”

• use scents to program memory — perfume, incense, oils = mood anchors

• mirror work: say it until your cells believe it

• microdoses of beauty: fresh flowers. sunlight. favorite song. brain food for the soul.

• romanticize boring shit: do dishes in your favourite pjs with some music. make your smoothie like it’s a spell. trick your brain into seeing the sacred in the mundane.

YOUR BODY IS YOUR TEMPLE, BUT YOUR BRAIN? IT’S THE ALTAR.

you wanna be a superstar? then you gotta treat your brain like a sacred device, a divine motherboard, a throne room where gods hold council.

no more trash inputs, okay?

• Omega-3s (salmon, walnuts, chia seeds): makes your brain juicy & sharp like a sword.

• Dark chocolate (real, not sugary junk): boosts serotonin and cognition.

• Avocados: healthy fats = smooth thinking.

• Blueberries: literal brain magic. anti-aging. memory-boosting. psychic fairy food.

• Green tea: focus, calm, clarity.

• Turmeric (with black pepper): anti-inflammatory. sharpens your third eye, no joke.

avoid: processed junk, white sugar, excess caffeine, soda these kill your neurons and steal your shine.

CRYSTALS FOR BRAINS THAT RULE REALITIES:

wanna think like a god? wear your altar. hold your ritual. program your crystals.

Fluorite

known as the “Genius Stone” clarity, order, concentration

Amethyst

balances moods, enhances spiritual downloads, calms anxiety

Clear Quartz

master healer amplifies any thought or intention

Labradorite

unlocks intuition, helps access creativity and divine inspiration

Lapis Lazuli

throat + third eye activation — confidence, insight, articulation

(there are more so please do your own research too)

SUBLIMINALS ARE PSYCHIC STEROIDS. USE THEM WISELY.

you wanna rewire your reality? go subliminal.

subliminals = messages that bypass your conscious filter and go straight into your subconscious (the part of your mind that rules 95% of your life).

use subliminals to:

• upgrade your looks (yes, facial structure and skin can shift)

• enhance intelligence, memory, learning speed

• remove limiting beliefs

• manifest luxury, fame, love, power, anything

• regulate emotions + trauma

listen while you sleep. stack affirmations. make your own. reprogram your thoughts like you’re rewriting code. (i personally don’t cause my head hurts but everyone on the internet seems to function fine after listening overnight so you do you, see what works for you)

“OUR EMOTIONS SHAPE OUR DESTINY.” – DR. LISA FELDMAN BARRETT

yes. that’s the queen.

Lisa Feldman Barrett – one of the most iconic modern psychologists.

she said: “Emotions are not just feelings. They are predictions your brain makes about the world.”

baby. this means your emotions aren’t just cute little inner weather reports

they’re codes. previews. they shape how you perceive the world and what you attract.

CONTROL EMOTIONS = CONTROL DESTINY

if you can master your emotional reactions, you can literally start sculpting your fate.

you’ll go from:

“omg why is this happening to me 🥺”

to:

“ah. this is a trigger. this is old wiring. time to reprogram it. thanks, universe.”

USE YOUR EMOTIONS AS FUEL:

• anger → power.

• sadness → transformation.

• jealousy → awareness of what you want.

• boredom → signal to evolve.

your emotions are tools. not curses. not weaknesses. tools.

REALITY IS THOUGHTS TURNED SOLID.

“Everything you see around you was once a thought. Literally.”

somebody thought about inventing the mug you’re sipping from.

somebody thought about the phone you’re scrolling this on.

somebody dreamed of stages and world tours and beauty empires and then built them from neurons.

so now let me ask you this, baby girl:

what are you thinking today?

what are you planting in the garden of your mind?

WHEN YOU FEEL STUCK, ASK:

• why am i resisting this task? (fear of failure? fear of success?)

• what would my highest self do right now?

• what does future me already know that i’m forgetting?

your brain is plastic. not like barbie plastic (although slay), i mean neuroplasticity —

it can change at any age. any moment. every time you choose a new thought, you’re choosing a new future.

what is neuroplasticity, actually?

in plain words?

neuroplasticity is your brain’s ability to change its structure, reorganize itself, rewire its own circuits, and literally form new connections depending on how you think, act, feel, and even imagine.

it’s the reason:

• you can learn to walk again after a stroke

• trauma can change your brain, but healing can rebuild it

• habits form. habits break. habits get replaced.

• you can literally manifest your desired personality, success, skills, vibe, life

the wiring in your brain is not fixed. you are not stuck. your thoughts? your behaviors? they’re rewiring you all day, every day.

you’re literally programming your brain just by being you.

spiritual + psychological fact:

whatever you consistently focus on

whatever emotion you regularly feel

whatever pattern you repeatedly fall into

that becomes your default neurocircuit.

but that also means:

if you build new ones intentionally you become a new you.

how to activate your neuroplasticity

1. Repetition + Intention = neural pathways

keep repeating what you want to believe/do/feel. over and over.

make it juicy. emotional. real. the brain learns through intensity and repetition.

“i am becoming a global icon. my voice moves millions. my presence reshapes reality.”

repeat that till your brain thinks it’s already true and soon, it will be.

2. Visualisation = neural rehearsal

your brain cannot tell the difference between what you vividly imagine and what’s actually happening.

this is why athletes, CEOs, artists they all visualize before they perform.

wanna become a pop icon?

close your eyes. picture the stage. feel the lights. the screams.

your brain begins to rewire as if you’re already that person.

this is called “functional neuroplasticity” — building new functions through mental rehearsal

3. Regulate your nervous system

your brain won’t rewire itself properly if you’re in fight or flight 24/7.

you have to feel safe enough to rewire.

do:

• breathwork (box breathing, alternate nostril)

• vagus nerve stimulation (gargling, cold plunges, humming)

• long nature walks

• grounding (barefoot on earth)

• magnesium-rich food + adaptogens

• meditate. but make it vibey.

4. Use tech to reprogram: SUBLIMINALS + AFFIRMATIONS

subliminals literally bypass your conscious brain and go straight to the subconscious.

pair them with:

• headphones (esp. binaural beats = brainwave entrainment)

• night time listening (again see what works for you and listen accordingly)

• theta wave frequencies (your subconscious is most open here)

your subconscious mind = the operating system.

subliminals = code updates. neuroplasticity = the install button.

APP RECCOMENDATION :- manifest

5. Journaling + affirmations = mirror neurons in action

when you write new beliefs (in present tense), your brain starts mirroring them.

especially if you do it in your own handwriting.

your brain’s like: “oh wait… we’re serious?? okay bet. rewiring now.”

6. Act like the version of you who has what you want

neuroplasticity loves behavior.

you don’t just think your way into new wiring, you act it.

so dress like her. walk like her. post like her. speak like her.

watch how the brain reconfigures itself into that version.

“act as if” is not delusion. it’s neuroscience.

also follow @emonthebrain on instagram she is a neuroscientist she makes reels on brain, neuroscience and how you can practically change your life by using neuroscience

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cnilocates · 10 months ago

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zuzu-tries-to-write · 3 months ago

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HI!! Hope your doing well whatever day you read this :] I was wondering if I could request a Bakugo headcanons or fic where reader sometimes gets really anxious due to their quirk when she's overwhelmed/stressed (The quirk being like a danger detector/radar n sometimes "malfunctions" when upset, Detecting non-threats as threats and being on a more high alert)

when she's anxious, she jumps when someone touches her unexpectedly(which can sometimes result in a self defense response) flinches if someone moves to fast or close to her, no matter who it is. The class usually doesn't help since Bakugo is always the first on scene, sometimes catching warning signs before the reader!!

No pressure or issue if you'd like to reject my request!! It was a bit complicated for me to even type this out so I completely understand if you do ^_^

Oh my gosh—first of all, HI!!

Second—You explained it perfectly, and honestly? This idea is so beautiful and unique. I’d be honored to write it. You’re absolutely getting your anxious!Reader x Protective!Bakugo fic, no rejections here.

⸻

Title: “You’re Safe, I Swear.”

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Protective!Bakugo

Summary: Your quirk keeps you safe—but when you’re overwhelmed, it turns everything into a threat. Loud noises. Fast movements. Even your friends. It’s hard to explain.

Except… Bakugo gets it. And somehow, he always knows when to show up.

⸻

It always starts with the static.

A quiet hum in the back of your head that buzzes louder and louder until you can’t breathe.

Your quirk—“Instinct”—was supposed to be helpful. A danger radar, an alert system. Something that flared when something bad was nearby.

But sometimes, your brain couldn’t tell the difference between an actual threat… and a thrown pencil. A loud laugh. A classmate getting too close, too fast.

You were stressed.

Exhausted.

And the noise in your head was screaming.

⸻

“Hey, are you okay?” Mina asked, crouching next to your desk. She reached out to touch your shoulder—

You flinched. Hard. Your chair screeched back as you nearly tumbled away from her.

Your heart pounded. You couldn’t breathe.

It wasn’t her fault.

You knew that.

But still—your body was already bracing for impact.

“Shit,” a voice barked from across the room. “Back off—she’s not good right now.”

Bakugo.

He was across the room a second ago. How did he even—?

Mina backed off, worried but understanding.

“Thanks,” you muttered, breath shaking.

Bakugo didn’t answer. He just dropped into the seat beside you, crossing his arms, glaring at anyone who even looked your way. His voice lowered, just for you.

“Your head buzzing again?”

You nodded, slow.

He stared at you, and something in his expression softened. “You feel like everything’s a threat?”

You hesitated. “…Yeah.”

He nodded once. “Then I’ll stay. You don’t gotta talk.”

You blinked, and that was when it hit you.

He got it.

Maybe not the whole thing—but enough.

⸻

This wasn’t the first time he’d been there.

He always knew when you were off. You didn’t know how.

Maybe it was the way your hands trembled when you thought no one was looking.

Or how your eyes darted to every sudden movement.

Or how you flinched when even a friend reached for you.

No one else really noticed.

Not like he did.

⸻

Later that night, you sat curled on the dorm rooftop, blanket wrapped around your shoulders, knees pulled up tight.

Bakugo dropped beside you without a word. His warmth was immediate, grounding.

He didn’t say anything for a while. Just sat with you under the stars.

“Your quirk’s not broken, y’know,” he said eventually.

You turned to him. “Feels like it is.”

He glanced at you. “It’s not. You’re not.”

Silence. Then—

“I hate that you feel like you have to apologize when you’re overwhelmed. Like it’s your fault.”

His voice was low, rough. “It’s not. Your brain’s just trying to protect you. That’s not something to feel bad about.”

You stared at him. “You’re… really good at this.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well. Don’t tell anyone. I got a rep to protect.”

You laughed softly—and his shoulders relaxed.

Then you felt his hand gently brush yours.

You tensed—out of habit—and he immediately pulled back.

But you looked at him. “It’s okay,” you whispered. “Try again?”

He blinked, surprised. Then nodded. Slower this time, his fingers slid between yours. No pressure. Just presence.

Warmth.

“Better?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah. You make it better.”

He didn’t smile—but the corners of his lips twitched up, just a little.

And then, even quieter:

“I got you, dumbass. Always.”

⸻

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kitkat13001 · 6 months ago

Text

♱ . ݁ ⛧ ₊ ⊹ 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗

we creep up on extinction, i pull your arms right in i weep and say “goodnight, love,” while my organs pack it in and here it is, our final night alive and as the earth burns to the ground, oh girl, it's you that i lie with as the atom bomb locks in oh, it's you i watch tv with as the world, as the world caves in

⤷ l lawliet x reader

⤷ soft angst, implied character death (takes place right before L dies), title and lyrics from matt maltese’s “as the world caves in”

those damn bells. he’s heard them all day long.

it started as distracting and has now escalated to pissing him off.

as if ryuzaki didn’t already have enough to deal with. he’s in his prime, at the peak of this case, so very close to solving it all.

and now this, these damn bells.

you’d noticed his increased irritability today. oh, how he’d felt like crying after he’d snapped at you earlier. all you had done was ask if he was feeling alright, offered to maybe bring him some cake, and he’d written you off with a snippy tone and a sarcastic comment.

guilt shriveled up his heart like a punch to the gut.

of course it’s not your fault. you’re not a detective, and you definitely didn’t hear the bells. even if you did, you’d have no idea what they meant in any case.

he wishes he could tell you. now that he knows what’s coming, what was inevitable in every universe, there is so much he wishes he could tell you. but he still can’t, there’s just not enough time. that’s always the problem, isn’t it?

he’s already made his final preparations. have watari arrange to delete the files, contact roger, alert the orphanage. it’s all in order.

he’s made his own arrangements, too. a letter with his final words to you, everything he’s always wanted to say and never could. you’ll find it tomorrow morning, probably.

there’s really nothing else to do now but wait.

you’re already asleep when he comes shuffling into the bedroom, the patter of water droplets following him in.

you stir as he pads toward you, as if you can sense him even in your dreams. you sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and call out to him in a soft voice. it’s a tone he only ever hears when you say his name.

“you’re soaking wet,” you murmur, cupping his face between your hands as you look him over. his eyes are fixed on the spot between your brows where a concerned crease is growing. “what on earth were you doing?”

“up on the roof,” he whispers back. “just thinking. no need to be so worried, love.”

“i always worry about you,” you remind him, thumbs stroking his cheeks as you give him a soft smile. “that’s my job. i think you’ve been overworking yourself lately. i know you can’t help it, but you ought to at least take decent care of yourself.”

he gives no response aside from a low hum. he’s quiet as you towel him dry with gentle hands, get him out of his sopping clothes and into comfortable pajamas.

you’re brushing his damp hair back with your fingers, tracing the lines of his face like you’re trying to memorize it with your touch, when he speaks in a quiet voice.

“i’m sorry i snapped at you earlier.”

you blink, surprised. you’d just about forgotten it already.

“is that what’s got you in this mood?” you muse, crawling into bed to sit beside him. not just that, he thinks as his hands find yours, resting in your lap. but that’s about the only thing i can apologize for right now. he can’t bring himself to meet your eyes.

“it’s okay, ryuzaki,” you tell him, and he feels the warmth and kindness in your voice.

no it’s not.

“i shouldn’t have spoken to you that way,” he insists quietly, staring down at your interlocked hands.

“really, ryuzaki, i’m not upset. you’ve been overworked and stressed and i should’ve let you be.”

“i love you,” he says, his black hole eyes staring right through your soul. it doesn’t scare you. it never has.

“i love you too, ryuzaki. let’s go to bed, okay? you’ll feel better tomorrow.”

he really wishes that were true, but he lets you pull him down to rest beside you anyway. he treasures the way your body curls against his, the warmth of you beside him.

he tries to internalize it all. the smell of your shampoo, the faint humming of his computer in the corner, the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe.

his fingers are ghostly gentle as they trace over the soft planes of your face. his heart tugs when your eyes crinkle with a little smile.

“what are you looking at me like that for?” you ask in a whisper.

it takes him a second to respond, lost in your eyes. “you’re…the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen.”

you stifle a little giggle into the pillow, basking in this rare affection. you have no idea what tomorrow holds—the agony the coming days, weeks, years will be for you.

what a small miracle the marginal odds of you two finding each other were. what a little tragedy it is that it was never something fated to last.

but fate has no place here tonight. in the safety of this bedroom, with the rain pouring heavy outside and the man you love—the intangible, elusive enigma that is L transformed into the quiet, thoughtful, lovely man that you know as ryuzaki—at your side, you are happy.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics — because i love angst apparently?? kitty drops two bangers in one day, what are the odds. if you’re looking for fluff to fix this please check out daydream or my retired detective!L headcanons (where he lives!!) much love and take care, - 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢 !

#kitty.writes!#l lawliet angst #l lawliet #l death note #l x reader #l lawliet x reader #l angst #l fluff #l lawliet fluff #death note x reader #death note angst #death note #l x reader fluff #l x reader angst #death note ryuuzaki #ryuuzaki x reader #ryuzaki x reader #ryuzaki #death note ryuzaki

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marvelfilth · 1 year ago

Text

Off the deep end 5 (18+)

Pairing: Ghostface!Sam Carpenter x f!reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, Sam going a little mad

Summary: Ethan is your close friend, and he might be the only one who still trusts you. You know it makes you even more suspicious in Sam's eyes, you know Mindy will take it as confirmation, but you simply don't care. You just want this to be over.

Masterlist

You sit in the trunk of Sam's car, furiously rubbing blood from your hands. Mindy cries in Chad's arms, Tara hovering over them both. Sam's beside you, a cigarette clutched between her fingertips. She hasn't said anything since she dragged you out, carefully sitting you down and wiping your face clean before you scooted away from her, accepting some wet wipes and dissociating at the sight of your blood stained hands.

Your head is a little clearer now and you don't flinch when she starts cleaning the wound on your shoulder, blowing gently when you wince from stinging pain.

Body bags are rolled on stretches one by one. You look down when you see detective Bailey break down in the middle of the street.

But you can't look away from Mindy stomping your way after she's been patched up by the medics, murder in her eyes. She halts to a stop before you, hand poised for a slap. Sam pushes her away before she can land it. "What the fuck, Mindy?"

"Yeah, what the fuck? You're defending her?!" She shouts, furiously wiping away her tears. "It's her, don't you see?"

Her raised voice attracts unwanted attention, people start looking at you with furrowed brows and you see a blonde woman take a few notes in her notepad.

"She made her go, Sam! If it wasn't for her Anika would be here," she breaks down in a sob, falling to her knees. Chad follows her, hugging her close to his chest, his eyes on you. You shudder at the rage shimmering in the dark pools.

"Mindy, she did her best," Tara whispers, clutching Sam's hand.

Your vision blurs with unshed tears, your fingers itching with need to do something, maybe go back to the elevator and keep trying to bring Anika back. Maybe you need to chase him and take his life.

You look away. "She's right, it's my fault."

"No, it's not." Sam reaches out to you, reassurances on her tongue, but Mindy pushes her back before she can voice them.

"She hid the knives," Mindy hisses with a cold look in her eyes.

"What?" Tara mumbles.

Your head suddenly feels too heavy for your neck as you try to understand what she is talking about. What knives?

"What a caring fucking girlfriend you are, huh? Let me get you a glass of water, Sam," she mocks. "You hid the knives right before we got attacked. And you got the call. You were at the fucking bodega. Did you kill that man in the alley too? Fuck, maybe you let that fucker in yourself, maybe you planned all of this. Maybe- Maybe you killed Anika in that elevator. You did, didn't you?!"

Her hands are on your shoulders, pushing hard enough to leave bruises. Your mouth falls open, but not a single word leaves your lips. You tremble violently, shaking your head, and see Tara takes a few careful steps back, her eyes glossed over. Mindy shakes you, screaming right in your face, and all you can do is crumble to the ground, choking on a sob.

Sam catches you before your knees hit the ground, pulling you into her chest and squeezing you tight.

"It's, okay," she whispers, "it's not your fault."

Sam's hands feel scalding hot on your body, but her words fall on deaf ears when the only thing your brain can register is Mindy's anguished cries.

It's your fault, it's your fault, it's your fau-

Loud shouts ring from the entrance, another stretcher rolled out. Mindy gasps, and in a flash she's gone, running after the group.

Anika.

You shoot up, ready to run after Mindy, but Chad stops you with a firm grip and a shake of his head, before turning around and following his sister.

You sag back into the truck, closing your eyes. When you open them, Tara is nowhere in sight, only Sam left standing by your side.

"Do you trust me?" You ask.

She freezes, her eyes widening a slightest bit at the abrupt question. "I do."

"Would you trust me with Tara?"

You can tell your question takes her by surprise. She's silent, tension taking root in her shoulders before it spreads over her whole body. She gulps, her eyes flickering around the street.

You nod, resigned. "I understand."

She turns to face you, her brows pulled tight, and takes her hand. "I trust you, I do. But Tara- Sometimes I don't even trust myself to protect her."

A dark chuckle escapes your lips. "That's not what I'm asking, Sam, and you know it. It's not about protection. Do you trust me not to hurt her? Not to kill her?"

She looks down, letting go of your hand, and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. She takes a drag, blowing smoke away from you, her hands tremble.

This is it, you think. No matter what she said about Anika, no matter what she said about trusting you, you know she doesn't. Not completely.

"I don't know."

You look away in an attempt to hide your tears and nod, drawing a sharp breath. "It's okay. I'll just- I'll go, wait it out. And if you still want me when it's all over, I'll be there."

Sam straightens like a rod, her hand around your waist in an instant. "No. I'm not letting you out of sight." She clings to you, cigarette thrown to the ground. You let yourself enjoy the warmth of her embrace for a few fleeting moments before you start pulling away, but she doesn't let you, forcing your head up to meet her pleading eyes. "Please, don't go. I can't let you go."

You swallow dryly, and wipe away another set of tears. "You'll have to. N-none of you trust me," you choke on a sob, pushing against your girlfriend when she only hugs you tighter, pressing fleeting kisses into your hair. "You- you'll keep looking behind your back to make sure I haven't fucking stabbed anyone. I'd rather wait it out than go through that."

Sam shakes her head, "I need you close, so I can protect you."

You scoff, and forcefully push her away. "I don't need your protection. You should go to them," your head jerks in the twins direction, "make sure they're safe."

"Stop it," she hisses, following you as you try to walk away, "what the fuck do you think will happen once you're alone?"

"Nothing."

You need to get away. You need to go back home, curl on your bed and cry until you physically can't anymore. You still see Anika's empty eyes staring back at you, still feel the stillness of her chest under your palms. Everything around you is blurry as you stumble through the mass of people - paramedics, police officers, reporters and…

"Ethan?" You blurt as he steadies you.

He pants loudly, his eyes wide and questioning. "What- what happened?" He asks, pointedly looking at the blood all over your front.

He's thrown against a nearby car before you can answer, Sam's fist raised for a punch. "Where were you?" She growls, her hand closing around his throat. He's almost crying, his eyes glistening with tears.

You can see yourself in his place. You fight the urge to throw up.

"Sam," you speak up, but she doesn't hear you, pushing him hard enough to leave a dent.

"I- Econ," he wheezes, "I had econ."

"Sam, stop."

She listens this time, her eyes not straying from the gasping boy as she takes a few steps back.

You shudder as her hand returns to yours. "I'll take him with me."

She stills and doesn't utter a single word for a long moment. Ethan watches you, confused, but hesitant to voice his concern, as you both wait for Sam to speak.

"What?" She asks, her voice gravely quiet. "What did you just say?"

You swallow. "He'll stay with me, that way I won't be alone. He's a big guy, he's more than capable of protecting me."

She tilts her head to the side, her eyes growing a shade darker. "You're not going anywhere, especially with him."

“Wha- what is that supposed to mean?” he splutters, visibly offended.

You shush him with a look, shaking your head.

It's not ideal, you know, but it'll have to do. Ethan is your close friend, and he might be the only one who still trusts you. You know it makes you even more suspicious in Sam's eyes, you know Mindy will take it as confirmation, but you simply don't care. You want to barricade yourself in your room, open a bottle of tequila and fall asleep in your warm bed. You just want this to be over.

Sam shakes you out of your thoughts, a question in her eyes.

“What?” You ask, suddenly too tired to look her in the eye. You focus on the spot over her shoulder, still feeling the burning intensity of her eyes.

“I don't trust him.”

“You don't trust me either.”

"I can't afford to, but I can't- I can't afford to lose you either," she confesses, her voice shaking ever so slightly.

You close your eyes, feeling her arms envelope you, the smell of her cologne tickling your nose.

“Sam?” Tara calls.

Sam doesn't allow you to leave the sanctuary of her warmth, pulling you closer when you try to step away. “No,” she whispers, her grip so tight you struggle to breathe, “you're staying with me.”

“Sam, Gale found something.” There's an edge to Tara's tone, and when you open your eyes to look at her she doesn't meet your gaze, pointedly looking away.

Sam nods, tugging you along to follow Tara.

“Actually,” the blonde you saw earlier steps closer, her hand hovering over her gun on her thigh, “I don't think she should go with us.” She pointedly looks at you, her brows furrowed.

“What?” Sam hisses, shooting daggers at the shorter woman, but she appears unfazed.

“From what I've gathered, she seems to be our prime suspect. It wouldn't be wise to take her with us.”

“We should hurry,” Tara says, pleading Sam with her eyes.

“No,” Sam growls.

“Sam,” you plead, tugging your hand out of her grasp. “Just let me go, please.”

You're so tired.

“Sam,” Tara pleads. “We can't take her with us.”

“Then we don't go.” Sam's words are final.

Tara’s eyes narrow, you close your eyes, anticipating the verbal fight.

“What?”

“You heard me. For all we know Kirby is the killer.”

The blonde woman, Kirby, snorts, shaking her head. “This isn't your first rodeo, Sam. Love interests are always top suspects, and, with all of the evidence Mindy presented me with, you should be grateful I'm not putting your girlfriend in a cell.”

Tara looks at you, really looks at you for the first time since Mindy's outburst, her eyes swimming with questions. You look away, unable to hold her gaze any longer without crumbling apart.

“Sam, I'm going.” Tara says quietly. “She'll be-” she stutters, glancing at Ethan, “she can take care of herself.”

You nod, peeling yourself from Sam. She holds your hand tight, staring at Tara. “You're making me choose?” She asks, trembling.

Tara gulps, her eyes wide as she looks at your joined hands. “Whatever Gale found, we need to check it out,” she says, trying to convince herself as much as Sam, “I- I'm going, Sam,” she stutters, arms tight around her stomach.

All you can see is a girl forced to go through another massacre, a girl who still hasn't moved on from her best friend's betrayal. You understand.

Still, it hurts like hell.

“Go,” you whisper, managing a tired smile, “I'll be okay.”

With the last push, you leave Sam staring at her sister, and follow Ethan in the direction of his car.

×××

A movie theater.

That's what Gale found.

Sam walks in, Tara in her wake, timid and hesitant. She can't even look at her little sister right now, instead she focuses on what's right in front of her - her fathers hooded robe.

“You think she's still alive?”

She clenches her teeth tight and glances behind her shoulder. Another hallucination, just what she needs.

“Fucked up, isn't it?” Her father taunts, walking around her in circles.

She closes her eyes, clenching her fists tight. “Get lost.”

His mocking laugh grates at her ears. “I think one of them is already dead.”

She grinds her jaw, closing her eyes. “I said get lost.”

She turns on her heel, leaving the open space. She walks aimlessly, disappearing behind one of the many doors and sliding to the floor with her back against the wall. “Fuck,” she whispers, blinking back tears, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The door creaks open.

“Sam?”

It's Kirby.

Sam's fists clench.

“What?” She hisses.

The blonde looks at her for a moment, her eyes holding an understanding that hits Sam like a hammer. “We have some good news.”

Sam nods, not really caring.

“The next time that asshole calls we'll know where he is.”

Sam nods again.

“Sam.”

She looks down, playing with a loose thread in her shirt. “Good.”

“You made the right decision.”

Sam scoffs, standing up in one swift motion, now looming over the shorter blonde. “The right decision? She's alone. With that fucking-”

“He's alone with her.”

“Kirby,” Sam growls, a clear warning in her tone.

“I know. I went through this too, remember?” The shorter woman holds her ground, not budging an inch. “You know we can't trust her. You know it was the right thing to do.”

Sam swallows down the urge to scream. Instead she leaves, her steps echoing around the empty room, contemplating just going back and making you stay by her side, even if she has to force you.

×××

Ethan has to pack a bag. That's what he tells you anyway.

You sit in the passenger seat of his car - you didn't even know he had one - and wait for him to come out of his dormitory. You don't even jump every time a random car driving by honks. You tense, looking around, but you don't jump. You count that as a win.

You miss the feeling of safety Sam always brings.

“All good,” Ethan smiles, getting back behind the wheel. You startle, looking to your left.

“You sure?” You mumble, eyeing the small duffle bag he throws on the back seat.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I don't need much anyway. I know Sam's gonna get that fucker soon.”

You smile, relaxing for the first time since you left your girlfriend's side. “She will.”

His driving is a little messy - he hits at least three potholes on the way to your apartment and texts someone twice - but you don't complain, you're a far worse driver.

“That's me,” you sigh, welcoming him inside your apartment.

He looks around, his eyes widening as he takes in the mess that is your living room. You didn't really have enough time to clean up after Sam's visit.

“Sorry about that.” You blush, making a beeline for the kitchen. “Want something to drink?”

×××

“Sam,” Tara pleads, tugging at her sister's arm.

“Not now,” Sam hisses, looking around the park.

Kirby's plan to simply sit and wait for a call didn't sit right with Sam, so now they're here, in the middle of a park, with Kirby and Bailey as back up, baiting one of those fuckers in broad daylight.

She prays it works.

“Sam, you know-”

“Not now,” she hisses. Tara jumps away. Her sister never used that tone with her.

“I'm sorry,” she whispers, blinking back tears. “Maybe we shouldn't have left her. Not like that.”

Sam's eyes narrow as she turns on her heel. “You say that now?”

Tara squares her shoulders, wiping her cheeks. “I thought-”

“It doesn't matter what you thought. You made me choose. I would've never done that to you.”

Her sister folds in on herself, hugging her stomach. Sam sighs, looking around. She knows she's being too hard on her sister, but she can't bring herself to care right now. Not when you're in danger.

Sam starts, “Look, I know you're scared-”

“Yes, for you!” Tara interrupts, shaking. “You remember Richie? Remember his plans for you? And this- Kirby was right about love interests. We both know it.” Sam opens her mouth to protest, but Tara doesn't let her speak. “Don't try to deny it! I care about you, Sam, and if it means I have to be the bad guy to keep you safe, I'll do it.”

Sam's mouth snaps shut. Tara's eyes glint with determination now, her face set. She nods, feeling some of her anger seep away. “Okay,” she sighs. “I'm sorry for snapping.”

“I'm sorry for making you leave her.”

The sisters share a look and, after Sam nods, Tara throws her hands around her older sisters shoulders.

And then her phone rings.

“You're gonna die, you know?” She answers, looking around.

“No, you're gonna die, Sam, but not before watching your little sister bleed out.”

Sam swallows. Tara squeezes her hand, grounding her sister.

“But don't worry,” the voice starts, taunting, “it’s not her time. Yet.”

Sam stares ahead, unseeing, as the phone clicks.

“Kirby, did you get it?” Tara says into her ear peace. “What?” she pales, looking at Sam with wide eyes. “Yes, I know the address…” she trails off, trembling “...it's Y/n’s”

"What?" Sam breathes out and freezes.

Tara, not wasting any time, grabs her sister and runs to Bailey's car, pushing her in before taking a seat behind the wheel. The sirens blare, gnawing on Sam's mind.

Ethan, she thinks, that motherfucker. She's going to kill him. She'll make sure he suffers.

"Sam." Tara glances at her sister, expertly waving through the traffic. "I know you care about her, but..."

"What?"

Sam nods, her palms bleeding from how hard she's dug her nails into them.

"It might be... not what we expect. At Y/n's place, I mean." Tara mutters, glancing at her sister warily. Sam closes her eyes, taking deep, even breaths as her sister speaks. "Be ready for anything, okay?"

She is more than ready to gut the boy.

“Faster,” her father hisses from the backseat and she doesn't spare the hallucination a glance. “Or you'll lose your precious girlfriend.”

She grits her teeth, nails digging into her palms, and focuses on the road ahead, willing him to go away. She can't afford a distraction, not now, not when you are in danger. Tara glances at her warily, before hesitantly placing her palm on her shoulder, squeezing.

The breaks screech and she's out before the car comes to a full stop. She forgoes the elevators, running up the stairs to your apartment and bursting through the unlocked door.

The first thing she sees is blood.

The first thing she hears is Ethan's sobs.

"S-sam," he whimpers, clutching his stabbed stomach. "Please…"

Tara bumps into her back, panting and coughing. Sam's hand shoots out, stopping her sister from getting closer to the boy.

"Where is she?" Sam asks, her voice gravely quiet. She scans the apartment with her eyes, seeing no signs of struggle.

Her father appears by her side, nodding at the knife lying by the boy's side. “She did him good,” he grins in appreciation.

"I'm sorry," he wails, tears streaming down his face, "I'm so sorry, Sam."

She hums and takes a step closer, her fists clenched tight. "Where. Is. She."

Ethan blanches, pressing himself flat against the wall. "We were talking and she- she told me how sorry she was about Anika, told me how hard it was seeing her die, and then… then I hugged her, because she was crying and shaking, and I couldn't just stand there." Sam nods, crouching, and urges him to go on, her fingers squeezing around his wrist. "And then I felt the pain. I- I pushed her away and she- she did it again, she stabbed me again. It hurts so bad, Sam… Please," he sobs, wheezing.

Sam hums, pulling his hand away from the wound and presses her palm against it, hard. "That's not what I asked you," she hisses, enjoying the way he starts to writhe, screaming in pain, and pushes harder. She leans down to whisper in his ear, "Where is she?"

Ethan looks at her with wide eyes, terrified.

"Sam," Tara warns, "stop."

Her father chuckles.

When Ethan doesn't answer, she pulls her hand away, only to punch him straight in the gut, earning a pathetic wheeze. "I won't ask again."

"You're m- mad," he chokes, looking at Tara for help.

"We all go a little mad sometimes," Sam hisses before punching him again and again.

In the corner, her father smiles proudly.

She needs to know where you are. She needs to know you didn't do this. She needs to know you're not one of them.

"Sam, that's enough." Her sister pulls her by the shoulders, forcing her to stop the assault on the poor boy. "You heard him.. You see him. It's her," she whispers, blinking back tears. Sam shakes her head, ready to resume the interrogation, but Tara stops her. "Sam. This is not you. Stop."

Sam blinks rapidly, only now seeing a twinge of fear in her sister's eyes. Fear of her. She stumbles back, choking on her breath and falls to her knees, numb.

She sees her father shaking his head, disappointed in his daughter for stopping so early, for trusting you. She feels her sister's warm embrace, and hears her soothing words. She clings to her, burying her face in the smaller girl's frame, only one thought on her mind.

It's you.

#sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x reader #ghostface!sam #melissa barrera x you #melissa barrera x reader #scream #otde

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crowsofdarkness · 6 months ago

Text

Arranged: Chapter Ten

*gif not mine. credit to owner*

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: language, 18+ smut(ch 12 & ch 17), angst, fluff, mentions of death and violence. I will update the warnings with each chapter.

Summary: Reader would do anything to make her parents happy and that included agreeing to an arranged marriage. She never expected it to be to one of New York's most feared Mob Boss: Bucky Barnes. He is anything but loving towards Reader however when her parents are mysteriously killed, Bucky makes it his mission to find out who were at fault. And in the process, ends up coming close to losing Reader.

Authors Note: If anyone who is interested wants to be tagged, let me know!

Tags: @sakuracyberhex

The sudden rush of wind blew the bottom of my dress but I paid no mind to it, the cold breeze having no effect on my already frozen stature. My broken eyes were glued to the large hole in the ground where a two person casket had just been lowered, now filling up with dirt. The men on both sides of me stood with their arms crossed at their hips, not bothering to utter a word. Even if the funeral had ended some time ago, they knew that it wasn’t the time to leave.

Bucky spared no expense, giving my parents the best funeral they could ever imagine. All of their friends and family came out, some shocked that I had gotten married, especially since it wasn’t known that I was even dating anyone. A quick lie of ‘we kept it quiet for so long, that's why’ seemed to suffice.

I don’t know how I would have made it without Bucky by my side. He was there for me this past week more than I could have ever thanked him for. He put the majority of his meetings on hold so he could be with me, giving me whatever I needed.

The night I received the news was the first night Bucky and I shared a bed. I was broken and Bucky was afraid to leave me so he stayed with me that night, holding me in his arms until I fell asleep. The next night I found myself crawling into his bed when the nightmares began, thinking of how my parents died, and Bucky quickly wrapped me up into his embrace.

That was the last night we slept separate, opting to fully move into Bucky’s room.

It had been a week with zero updates from the detectives. There was no fingerprints, DNA, or any sort of evidence left behind.

“Whoever this person was, they knew what they were doing.” Detective Roth’s words kept replaying in my head.

Up until now, I had been upset and broken about losing my parents, especially after the last conversation I had with them. But now I was pissed, angry, and ready to figure out things on my own. I thought about asking Bucky, him having connections that I would need, but I didn’t want him knowing what I was up to. If he did, he would force me to stop.

“Doll?”

I hummed, still not able to form words, but kept my eyes glued to the ground below. Bucky sighed and linked out fingers together, the vibranium of his wedding band pressed into my skin. He decided to wear it on his right hand, mentioning something about having enough vibranium on his left. Bucky made that joke a few days ago, in hopes of it cheering me up.

It didn't.

“Y/N,” he pressed again. “They’re done.”

I blinked, shifting back to reality, and looked up towards Bucky. He’s had the same look plastered over his face the last week; sorrow. I told him countless times to stop giving me that look, I didn’t need him to feel sorry for me anymore.

Which is exactly what I told him now.

“Stop giving me that look, Bucky. I’ve been getting it all day and I’m so fucking tired of seeing it,” I sighed.

Bucky nodded then wrapped an arm around me to pull me into his chest. “Sorry. Let’s get you back home then.”

With my own arms wrapped around Bucky’s back, I looked over towards the other man that stood next to me all day.

“Are you coming back with us, Steve?”

The blonde shook his head. “I’ve got some errands to run but I’ll be there tomorrow.”

Besides Bucky, Steve had been there in my mourning and grief stricken state, a shoulder to cry on when Bucky had to step out for some kind of business.

“I’m guessing it's back to business,” I looked up towards Bucky.

He answered my question with a soft kiss to my lips. “I’m sorry, doll.”

I shrugged, letting him know I didn’t mind. Only because I had been planning on running a couple errands myself and the only way I would be able to do that was if both Bucky and Steve were preoccupied.

Soft snores sounded behind me as I traced the gold bands of Bucky’s vibranium arm while he slept. His bare chest pressed against my back worked like a personal heater, warming me the second we laid down together. Our feet were intertwined together at the end of the bed and I knew when he began to twitch that I would be safe to sneak away.

Steve and him had been busy all day in the office with meetings working like a revolving door. I didn’t see who was coming or going because I had been in bed all day. Bucky thought I needed more alone time to mourn but I was doing the opposite.

I spent the majority of the day on my laptop and phone trying to chase down any leads I could in my parents murder; where they spent their last moments before coming home and who saw them that night.

It was all dead ends until I remembered someone who could help me in getting the answers I wanted. As much as I didn’t want to or the fact that Bucky told me to stay away, I needed his help. He had connections in law enforcement that I didn't.

It was almost midnight and he said that he would text me soon with an address of someone that remembers seeing my parents an hour before the murder.

Turning over in Bucky’s embrace, I watched him for a moment. His eyes moving underneath its lids, snores coming from his parted lips, and his messy hair falling into his face. Under the moonlight breaking in from the window, he looked so peaceful and divine.

I brushed the hair out of his face and laid a soft kiss on his cheek, the growing beard scratching my lips. His grip tightened while he buried his face deeper into my neck, leaving his own kiss. Guilt filled me knowing that I had gone against his word and was lying to him but I knew that this was what I had to do.

My phone buzzed on the table behind me and I did my best to reach for it in hopes of not waking Bucky.

21412 Longview Lane. 30 minutes-J.W.

“Who is it?” Bucky grumbled into the back of my neck.

Shit.

“Just another friend of my parents sending their condolence,” I lied while snuggling closer towards him.

“At midnight?” His half lidded eyes looked at the clock.

I smiled at his sleepy voice and nodded. “Late bird I guess.”

Bucky hummed before rolling towards the other side of the bed and when his back was turned, I placed a few kisses down his spine.

“I can’t sleep so I’m going to go downstairs and make some tea.”

With his grumble of words as a response, I knew this was the only chance I would get to sneak away for a bit.

I rubbed the red mark on my wrist with a grimace towards the guard who opened the metal door in front of me, a loud buzzer sounding throughout the building. As I walked through the long hallway, I tried to mentally prepare myself for the fight that was about to ensue the second we got into the car.

What I had just gone through the last two hours paled in comparison to the man that was waiting in the lobby. I wished they would have called anyone else but since he was my husband, they had to call Bucky.

My tired glance landed on Bucky who was leaning against the front desk, an angry scowl on his face. The cop next to him handed him all of my personal belongings and he took them without saying a word.

“Hi,” I muttered once I was in front of him.

Bucky kept his hardened face before linking our hands together and somewhat nicely dragged me to the car. The twenty minute drive home was complete silence, the only thing that could be heard in the small confinement was Bucky’s heavy breathing. He had been gripping the steering wheel so tight that his flesh knuckles had gone white.

The car eased up the drive and once he was parked in front of the house, I made a quick dash inside, hoping to avoid whatever conversation that was about to ensue.

“Arrested, Y/N? Are you fucking serious?!” Bucky’s voice boomed as he slammed the front door shut.

The sudden raise in his voice caused me to jump slightly and I turned on the staircase where I had only made it to the third step.

“It was stupid. The cop only arrested me because of who I was married to. He wanted to make a point,” I shrugged.

Bucky pinched his eyes in annoyance. “What the hell were you doing trespassing on someone's property across town in the middle of the night? Do you know how dangerous that was, especially because Steve or I weren’t with you.”

“I wasn’t alone,” I defended.

HIs shoulders went rigid. “John Walker? Really? Have you lost your fucking mind?”

I sliced him in half with my gaze. “I know what I’m doing, Bucky.”

“Did you forget what I told you about Walker?” He asked.

“I didn’t have a choice, Bucky. He’s the only one that can help me!” My voice was now raised, anger mixed with annoyance.

His brow raised in confusion. “With what? Breaking into someone's house?”

I hesitated, unsure if I should tell him the truth. He could see the way I resisted and I’m sure he could hear my heart hammered hard against my chest. Sweat began to form in my palms so I wiped them on my pants before taking a deep breath.

“I’ve, uh, been looking into my parents murder,'' I stuttered.

Bucky’s eyes softened. “Why, doll?”

“Because no one has had any answers! It’s been over a week and nothing!” I snapped. “If the cops won’t do anything then I will!”

“And you go to Walker for help?”

The hurt in Bucky’s voice didn’t go undetected and my heart dropped, realizing that maybe I should have gone to him in the first place; could have avoided an arrest charge.

“The John that I know is different from the one you do, Bucky. There was a point in my life where he would have done anything for me,” I defended my choice.

“You knew him, Y/N. He’s not the same anymore,” Bucky responded with a flat tone.

“How do you know?” I curled a brow. “Oh that’s right, you won’t tell me because it’s on the list of ‘secrets to keep from Y/N.”

I turned on my heels, ready to end this conversation, but Bucky followed close behind as I made my way to our room.

“You need to end this whole pretend cop nonsense.” Bucky said while shedding himself of his leather jacket, tossing it onto the couch in our room.

I chuckled dryly. “Haven’t you learned that you can’t tell me what to do?”

Bucky stepped in front of me as I tried to slip away from him into the bathroom.

“This is serious shit, doll. You can end up hurt or worse.”

I raised a finger to him. “I won’t stop until my parents' murders are either caught or dead. If I get hurt in the process, who cares.”

Bucky’s face fell. “Don’t say that.”

I shrugged. “You mean to tell me that you would be hurt if something happened to me? Bucky, this marriage was built on an arrangement between you and my parents. They’re dead so you can consider yourself off the hook.”

“Y/N,” Bucky’s voice cracked.

I ran a hand through my hair. “Look, I'm exhausted and just want to go to sleep. We’ll figure everything out tomorrow morning.”

I didn’t bother giving him time to respond as I slipped into the bathroom and locked the door behind me.

#mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #mob!bucky barnes x yn #mob!bucky barnes and yn #mob!bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes and reader #sebastian stan

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chirrups · 6 months ago

Note

I feel like I have nothing to ask, I simply would love to hear more about them fucked up mermaid and murderer

And I would absolutely love to tell you about them, Tin.

This AU takes place somewhere vaguely in the Pacific Northwest (circa. 1970s-80s) in an isolated fishing town along a storm-wracked coast.

Fisheries in and around the bay have collapsed due to extreme winter weather patterns + overfishing + an oil spill from a tanker run aground down the coast, leaving most of the bay's inhabitants to live pretty much hand-to-mouth off contaminated fish in recent years.

get ready for LORE (and more drawings but mostly the LORE)

general warning: this is pretty long

The "story" as it were, kicks off when Gem finally gets fed up with another fisherman in the area, Grian, over continued conflict about ownership of fishing grounds in the mouth of the bay.

She orchestrates his death (with the eager assistance of Scott and Impulse) out at sea and passes it off as a tragic accident in the winter swells with her being the unfortunate finder of his remains.

And it works.

See the thing is: Gem has a history of causing disappearances. It started with some accidents with out-of-town poachers. She would chase these people off and one or two would just slip overboard and happen to drown. It wasn’t her fault and besides they deserve it. But things start to escalate from there. Poachers become outsiders become fellow townspeople. Grian is someone Gem’s known for years, whose friends are tangentially her friends or acquaintances. His death is a cold-blooded murder driven by hatred and frustration. This time something is different about what she's done and Gem knows it.

But Gem is a reputable and well-known person. Her prices are fair, she drives poachers out of the bay and maintains order around the pragmatic fishing ground policy that undoubtedly helps everyone to survive.

She is the type of person to look to for guidance when things get difficult because she can make those hard choices. So how on earth could it be her fault?

No one is wiser until Grian's funeral brings an old friend into town who is more than a little suspicious about the circumstances of his death.

Scar was one of Grian's crewmates when they did trawling much further south. They split when Scar took up (illegal) whaling and Grian moved into the bay.

As an outsider, Scar isn't so swayed by the goodwill the town has around Gem's name. He's no detective but for the sake of an old friend, he might as well try.

In this AU, mermaids are social mammals part of the Hominidae family that went back into the ocean similar to Cetaceans. They live in matrilineal family groups or in any other female-led organization of pods and have a very "survival-oriented" global culture (with regional variation).

Pearl is a lone mermaid whose pod lived in the bay until they were starved out by the collapsing fisheries. PNW mermaids are more territorial than other ecotypes and value strength over anything else. Pearl's inability (read: unwillingness) to oust other pods for better fishing grounds and the loss of one of her pod members summarily lead the other two to abandon her.

Without a pod to help her, hunting enough in her dwindling territory has been difficult and lonely, leading her to slowly starve just as the humans in the bay have begun to.

She took to trailing fishing boats to steal from their catch, which is how she met Gem who was mid-throwing some unfortunate soul overboard.

They have an interesting relationship.

Gem is enamored with Pearl at the halfway point between a person and a large apex predator. She loves the way Pearl needs her to live and the way Pearl, as a social creature with no pod, craves her attention. It's thrilling to have a predator at her beck and call like this and, in turn, to be so desperately needed. She also loves the way Pearl doesn't look at her like she's dangerous (the way Scott and Impulse have begun to when they think she doesn't see them). Her interest in Pearl seems to be leaching into something more than just wildlife admiration. She's begun to learn the mermaid language just to talk to her. For what? Who really knows. Meanwhile, Pearl is hungry enough to eat just about anything Gem throws her (including human bodies) and desperate enough that she lets Gem get much closer than many humans in this area have ever been to a mermaid. (They even touch, scandalous for mermaids.)

It's skewed for sure. From Gem's perspective, they've got something special going on. From Pearl's... not so much.

This being Secret-Life based, you can imagine how this story ends...

Bonus piece: Pearl and her old pod.

IN GENERAL, Biological females are generally larger with a set of rotated tusks protruding from their lower jaw for dominance displays. Biological males are commonly smaller and more agile, with more dexterous hands due to decreased adipose tissue distribution over their bodies. (They actually have 3 biological sexes and tons of social gender variation but that's a talk for another time). Pre-cultural awakening, these pods would form around a biological female and their harem for reproductive purposes. That female would then protect the harem from other females looking to "steal them" or their territories (like horses but reverse-style). In modern times, these pods are often composed of groups of friends/related family members as sort of "platonic life partners" and stealing other pod members is seen as a very archaic sort of thing. Territory stealing, however, is still up for grabs.

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halfmoonaria · 1 year ago

Text

reason

pairing: tara carpenter & female reader

summary: you didn't have a reason for it, except tara was the reason.

words: 2.3k

warnings: violence, ghostface, gore, language, sensitive topics.

Her heart was pounding, legs shaking, breath hitched and voice trembling.

Tara was frightened, terrified.

Everything had happened so fast.

First Quinn had died, shortly after Anika was gone. Then Ethan and Mindy got left behind, being forced to take another train.

Now it was just her, Sam, Chad, Kirby and you. And four people would've been enough to fight the killers, technically.

However, now both Chad and you were gone.

Tara didn't know where you were, and it was starting to worry her. What if you were dead?

Oh god, she wouldn't be able to live with herself if you were. Especially not since the last conversation she had with you ended so acrimoniously.

She knew why it did, and she knew it was entirely her fault. But she was going to make it okay again, she was going to be better. For you.

Although Tara also knew that there wasn't any ways to make it better. Not at all.

Tara felt totally unreasonable. Disgusted with herself.

She couldn't reverse the situation or turn back the clock on what had occurred. She couldn't change what happened. Not even the slightest.

She couldn't even change the thoughts of remorse and guilt that had been rotting in her head for days. What made her think she could change the situation?

Tara did cheat. And you saw it. She couldn't change that.

She couldn't change the way you ran out of the apartment before Tara had the chance to open her mouth. She couldn't change the fact that you hadn't spoken to her ever since she chased you down the street.

She couldn't change anything. And it was hurting her to bits.

"Kirby stop!" The fiddling with a gun brought Tara out of her own thoughts, "Get away from the girls."

Tara could feel her lips shaking out of fear. Legs almost too wobbly to stand. Her mind was too fuzzy she could barely focus on the conversation between Kirby and Bailey.

All she could find herself thinking about was you. The look on your face when you had seen Tara on top of Chad. The tears that were flushing down when she made eye contact with you.

The way you were probably dead right now.

It wasn't until Ghostface popped up behind Bailey that Tara finally got pulled into the moment, the thoughts about you being pushed aside as she heard the gunshots towards Kirby.

Bailey shot Kirby. In the shoulder. Twice. Making her fall to the ground in an instant.

Strangled gasps escaped from both of the sisters, their glances turning to Bailey and the masked killer next to him.

"Great job" Baileys raspy voice spoke proudly as he lowered the gun to his side. "Both of you" he finished as another Ghostface walked up behind him.

That was when it all clicked for Sam and Tara. There had been three of them? The entire time?

Tara's mouth couldn't help but move before she could think." You?" Her voice laced with nothing but disgust and betrayal.

Bailey grimaced, acting like this was some kind of fun, sick joke. "Yeah, Of course me."

Her mouth was left open out in aghast. Bailey would've been the absolute last person Tara would've excepted, and it seemed to be that way for Sam as well.

In fact, even Anika would've been a better suspect than him.

"Frankly, I expected more from the two of you after what you did to us."

And even though Tara felt so incredibly lost and confused at the moment, the sentence made it possible for her to become even more bewildered.

Sam didn't say a word, her figure just showed that she was breathing heavily in the corner of Tara's eye, either to calm herself down or because she was feeling suffocated by all the overwhelming emotions.

"What do you mean 'us'?"

At that, the person standing on the right side of the detective pulled of the hood, tugging off the mask shortly after with the gloved covered hand.

When the mask had arrived off, Ethan was revealed.

Ethan Landry.

The dorky guy that screamed like a girl whenever scary movies was shown, stumbled over his own feet while walking or always rambled about stuff nobody actually cared about.

Tara felt the need to laugh, she actually didn't think the boy could hurt a fly even if he had to. But her face remained frozen, it didn't dare to move.

Ethan had a proud, big smile on his face, like he had really accomplished something. Tara wanted to punch his face for looking so smug.

He had been anything but slick with it all. Technically everyone in the group had been suspecting him at least once, perhaps not Anika, but she hadn't blamed anyone.

"Mindy was right." He spoke as if it was funny. But in reality it was ridiculous. Mindy was never right about anything when it came to the killers, not a single right last time, which was precisely why nobody believed her now either.

Which was why the fact that Mindy was right made Ethan look nothing else but foolish.

"It was easy to juke the roommate lottery." He continued, probably expecting a response from any of the sisters. But Sam's mouth seemed to be just as unable to move as Tara's.

"I mean all I had to do to meet you? Was room with a conceited, condescending alpha, literally named Chad. Fuck, it felt good to kill him."

Tara felt her breath hitch for a second, swallowing hard enough to make head turns.

Chad was dead?

Although before Tara had the chance to speak or ask anything she was going to regret, Ethan spoke up again, this time with his Ghostface mask raised in his hand.

He spoke about how it was Sam's grandmothers, how it ran in the family; nothing Sam hadn't heard before. Tara either for that matter, and she couldn't care less. Sam wasn't a killer. Tara knew that.

"Talking of family." He voiced again, the smug smile never leaving his features.

"Wait for it!" Bailey interrupted milliseconds after.

The two of them were smiling like absolute maniacs, like they were waiting for a well known jump scare in a movie.

"My name's not Ethan Landry.. is it dad?"

"Dad?" Tara spoke up in utter disgust. Shame filling her veins for not noticing that sooner. But how could she? They looked nothing like.

It was impossible to try and find any similarities between them now, looking at them made Tara feel the need to throw up.

The way they were laughing and smiling big, the way Bailey was stroking Ethan's hair like he had a reason to be proud of him.

"Wait.. If its you two that just leaves.." Sam spoke for the first time since the reveal.

The third and final killer turned their masked face to Sam, curious to see who she'd guess. "Mindy?"

Tara felt goosebumps form on her whole body at the guess. Was it really?

Both Bailey and Ethan turned their head eagerly to watch the reveal, even though there was no doubt they already knew who it was.

Hood off.

Glove covered hand up. Grabbing the chin of the mask. Pulling it off.

There it was.

The hair and face Tara had seen a million times before, the features she admired so deeply. The eyes that met hers, that used to be filled with light. Now looked empty.

It was you.

Under the mask. It was you.

Tara felt like her heart stopped. But at the same time she could hear it beating like it was placed next to her eardrum.

You smirked as you could hear Tara let out a sob. Sam gulped heavily at the sight of you in the dark robe.

"Hello Tara." Your voice sounded sweet, like a whispering breeze. It made Tara want to crumble to her knees.

"Didn't see that one coming did you?"

Tara's lips were quivering too much for her to reply.

But of course she didn't see that coming. You were her girlfriend. Were.

Ringing covered her ears, blocking out everything else that left Bailey's mouth, making it all inaudible.

All she could do was follow your figure as you walked behind the glass boxes of souvenirs. Holding up the mask, your mouth moved. But Tara couldn't make out what.

All she could focus on was all the questions that were raised in her head. Why would you do this? How long had you been a part of this?

Tara's mind was shutting out all of the conversations that was held between Bailey and her sister, Ethan adding stuff in between.

She was watching you instead. How your eyes looked nothing like they once did. How your knife was directed towards her, almost ready to stab her whenever you got the chance.

Her mind was fuzzy, and she felt as if she couldn't focus on anything besides you.

You were walking closer. Too close for Tara's liking, but she couldn't find herself moving. Her legs straight up refused.

When the top of the knife was in faith contact with her chin, you stopped. Same as Ethan had done with Sam. Nothing Tara paid any attention to.

Instead she focused on clenching her jaw, trying to direct her head upwards. Although your voice startled her enough to stop.

"You look pretty with a knife like this." You spoke. "Maybe we should've done knife play more often." Your voice was hushed. As if nobody else was allowed to hear.

Normally it would've made Tara feel warm and comfortable. Now it made her eyes water even more.

"Although I guess you just would've used it for real huh?"

Tara gulped. She knew what you meant. She knew what you were referring to.

"You would've used it in the back right?" You spoke through gritted teeth. Making sure to remind Tara that the knife was still in your hand, pressed against her skin.

"Backstabbing cunt." You spit. Making Tara close her eyes, gulping yet again.

However when she opened them again, her eyes met yours. And she was surprised when she only saw sorrow in them, not a single thing in there showed malevolence or anger.

Tara couldn't help but plead and beg for forgiveness. Your eyes had that impact on her.

"Y/N I'm so sorry..Please- I - We can fix this." She stuttered out, way too much for her own good. "It doesn't have to happen like this."

She was trying to fix it. She didn't want to get her sister killed by you because of a decision she had made herself. A mistake she had made.

But she knew it was too late to solve things. The way your mouth smirked showed it more than enough. And Tara only made it worse by letting her mouth get the best of her.

"It was a mistake."

You felt the need to laugh, and you did. A cold hearted laugh escaped your lips. Your laugh was normally something Tara could listen to like music, like angel soft music. But this sound scared her.

"It wasn't a mistake. You know well enough it wasn't." You pressed the knife harder to her skin, millimeters away from drawing blood. "You knew it the second you chose to take of your clothes. Well enough kiss him."

And Tara knew that. She was completely aware of that.

Everything else became a blur. Everything had gone steeper downhill so fast that Tara couldn't process anything.

Maybe it was her foggy mind that didn't allow her to think straight. Maybe that's why she had lost her steady grip on the railing.

Sam had taken Ethan, and Tara had been forced to take you. Against her will.

Her mind was too focused on saving her sister that she didn't realize at what cost that might've been. She didn't realize that stabbing you meant killing you. She didn't realize that until it was too late.

She realized it when she had harshly impaled the knife in your mouth, twisting it seconds later. When your wide, beautiful eyes had stared up at her in shock. When your blood had splashed in her face. Your blood.

When your limp body fell to the floor. When she shook your shoulders, begging for you to wake up. Begging for you to forgive her.

Sam told Tara that it was for the best. That it was either you getting killed, or Tara herself. Tara tried listening, telling herself that it was for the better.

But there was just something about the way you laid there. The way the blood on your body was once used to fill your veins. The blood who once existed for your heart to pump.

Your heart, the most benevolent and thoughtful heart to ever exist. A heart that wouldn't hurt anyone, even if it was forced.

You weren't a killer. You didn't have a reason to kill. Except you did. She was the reason. Tara was the reason.

She had made you into a murderer. Tara was the reason for it.

#jenna ortega x reader #mabel x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #vada cavell x reader #wednesday addams x reader #ask

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amorchai · 1 year ago

Text

𝐔𝐍𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐒.

pairing(s): jake peralta x female!detective!reader

summary: it's you and jake's first case together as a couple, only for the plan to go pear-shaped.

words: 953

warnings/tags: female!reader, kidnapping ( made it as minimal as possible ), established relationship, worry.

it was very rare for the squad to see jake peralta worried. very rare. only at times where his morning bagel fell onto the floor or the street dog wasn’t waiting outside after a long shift but apart from that everyone was used to seeing goofy-carefree jake.

so when jake had ran into the precinct, wide eyed and fast paced, not one limerick falling from his lips as he almost fell into the door leading to captain holt’s office – the squad knew something was wrong.

terry followed swiftly; half-eaten yoghurt left behind to listen to the information, it was clear jake was pleading to the captain, wondering why you weren’t by his side. rosa and boyle follow his frame curiously while amy tries to lipread the captain’s responses.

one of your first cases together as a couple had gone pear-shaped. you had insisted to go in as bait – talk to the drug-ringleader and try to sneak some case-altering information. jake had argued at first, not wanting you in that position but he also advocated as a major feminist so when you said you were just as strong as a man, he immediately agreed.

however, the plan you had set out didn’t work, jake sitting at the other side of the earpiece – in the dirty van parked up front. he was unaware of the gun held to your head while the criminal wordlessly gestured for you to take out the earpiece.

when the sound muffled into white noise, jake started tapping his earpiece, “y/n? y/n!” he kept saying but there was nothing but lousy feedback. jake immediately storms the building, gun in hand and bullet-proof vest into the lonely room filled with nothing but a smashed earpiece on the ground.

which led him to the captain’s room, alerting him on the situation. “you said this was supposed to be a low-contact stake-out, why did you deem it smart to send our detective in there, unarmed, and without a squad waiting?” holt was furious, terry raising his hand to try and calm down the situation.

“we can try to track security footage, find out where they took her, captain. we only need a few hours-” jake pulls a face, “nuh-uh, i’m not waiting three hours while my girlfriend’s stuck with him.”

“look, i get it but what else can we do, peralta?” asks terry. jake looks to holt who shrugs, a hint of pure fear and disbelief in his own eyes worrying your boyfriend more than he’s ever felt.

jake sighs, “what if we check out the other location he’s known to sell? it's an abandoned warehouse just outside the city – get a squad together, storm the place to see.”

holt nods, “yes. meanwhile we’ll have a couple of detectives head down to the last place, find some cctv footage just in case it’s a dead-end. let’s get a group together now.”

there was a very quick briefing, holt assigning people jobs in order to get their detective back safely and before jake knew it he was in the back of a cop van with the same bullet-proof vest on. his mind spinning with agitation.

“hey,” jake looks to his side where rosa’s voice cuts in, “she’s gonna be fine, man. she’s a great cop.” jake nods, “i know, she’s the best, but this is all my fault i shouldn’t have let her go in herself.”

the van stops, doors opening to lead everyone outside to the abandoned warehouse. “she’s gonna be fine,” rosa reassures once more, and jake hopes to god his friend is right, jumping out of the van and catching up to the group.

holt leads, glancing into one of the broken windows before gesturing jake, terry, and amy towards the front door while the rest go round the small back space. the walkie talky that sits on amy’s vest muffles quietly, “on three.”

the moment amy says three, jake kicks the bolted door and aims his gun, “hands in the air!” a mix of voices scream into the room. several men raise their hands, one with a gun in his hand jake recognises as the leader – but all he focuses on is you.

you’re sat on a chair, you look unharmed but shaken up and jake wants to immediately run over but is forced to wait as captain holt shouts to the criminals, “put your gun down and put your hands above your head.”

you’re watching jake and jake’s watching you, small steps forward before each men are being cuffed until he sprints over towards you – meeting you in a bone-crushing hug. “i was only gone four hours,” jake admires your way to chuckle in this moment and he nuzzles his nose into your neck, holding the back of your head.

“are you alright, babe?” jake asks, pulling back to look at you properly. “yeah. the only thing he did was push me into the car but apart from that i’m okay.”

your giggle is cut off with a long kiss, jake holding your face as he desperately moves his lips against yours, mumbling a low, “i’m sorry.” you pull back, eyebrows frowning and hands shaking against his chest, “why are you sorry?”

“it’s my fault, i should never have agreed for you to go in alone. next time we are going to play it safe and-” before he can continue, you’re kissing jake again, shakily but causing him to melt anyway. you hold his hand as you’re all guided out, “maybe if i wasn’t such a good feminist…” jake trails off, eyes gazing hopeful towards you but all you do is amusingly shake your head and nudge your boyfriend, kissing his cheek as your glad to be back beside him

amorchai masterlist . taglist

#જ⁀➴ 𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 #𝐛𝟗𝟗 ⁑ jake peralta #jake peralta #b99 #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #jake peralta x reader #jake peralta x you #jake peralta imagine

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holylulusworld · 7 months ago

Text

Gap Filler (2)

Summary: Lack of communication leads to fallout.

Pairing: Walter Marshall x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, Walter being a douche, break-up, mentions of break-ups, amends, angry reader, unplanned pregnancy

A/N: A short drabble to the miniseries.

Gap Filler (1)

Walter feels like he’s losing his mind. He’s pacing the room, driving the lab assistant crazy. She huffs and shakes her head. Not only does Walter ask for an unauthorized analysis, but he also gets on her nerves.

“Sir, the results won’t come faster if you keep on walking holes into the ground. It will take as long as it takes.”

“I’ll be back in half an hour and need the results by then,” he huffs and turns to leave. “I know you’re not happy that I called in a favor. This is an important, life-changing event. So please, hurry up. I need to be sure if I bring something for the baby too.”

She furrows her brows but says nothing. Three years ago, Walter did her a favor without asking questions. She will do the same for him to pay him back and to be even with the grumpy detective.

“Half an hour,” she nods. “Got it.”

“…and?” Walter expectantly looks at the lab assistant. He never felt so much pressure on him before. Not even while on the hunt for a killer. “Please tell me you have the result for me.”

“Here.” She hands Walter the results. “Now we are even. Never ask me to do something like this ever again. I could lose my job.”

“If you forget about the test and the results, we are even.” He looks at the results. His heart jumped for a second before he remembered what he said to you only a few days ago.

“Detective.” She nods and turns back toward her equipment. “You shouldn’t waste more time. She’s on the way to start a new life far away from you.”

Walter huffs. The last thing he needs is someone telling him that he fucked up big time. He already knows there’s no way you’ll forgive him.

“Can I help you, sir?” The clerk at the shop asks. She’s looking at Walter standing in front of a shelf. He looks left and right, unsure what to buy. “Sir?”

“Hmm…” Walter dips his head to look at her. He has his arms crossed over his chest as he tries to decide on a gift hamper. “I need a gift for…” He sniffs and looks back at the shelf. “…my pregnant girlfriend. It should say, I’m sorry and happy to become a dad at the same time.”

She frowns. “You want to apologize with a baby gift hamper? Sir, I don’t know your girlfriend well, but that’s not the best gift for an angry pregnant woman.”

“How do you wanna know?” He cocks his head to watch her look at the shelf herself. “I want her to know that I’m happy about the baby and that I’m sorry for saying all those stupid things.”

She huffs now. “You are always sorry, aren’t you? Men are all the same. Do you believe a half-hearted apology and a random gift will make things up to her? How dare you come back to her to do it all over again!”

“Whoa, I didn’t ask for your opinion or help. If you’d excuse me now,” Walter angrily says. He glares at the clerk, pissed at her cocky attitude. “Whatever crawled up your ass is not my fault or problem. Nice customer service.”

He’s too angry to focus on buying anything at the shop. Walter storms out of the shop, squaring his jaw. The young woman at the shop wasn’t wrong. Walter hurt you beyond repair, and this can’t be fixed with a fucking gift hamper.

“I’ll take two, no, three of these.” Walter points at the flower baskets. “No, this is stupid. Give me your prettiest bouquet of peonies. She loves them.”

He looks around the flower shop, frowning deeply. There’s a beautiful orchid and a large cactus next to it. Walter shakes his head and laughs. “An impossible match,” he murmurs before pointing at the plants. “I changed my mind. I’ll take these two.”

Packing up your things to move out of your home feels wrong. You learned to love your apartment and turned it into a cozy home for you.

Not so long ago, you had hoped Walter would move in with you one day.

All your hope got shattered the day he told you Rachel is back and that he wants to try again. Your heart broke, and you mourned the life you could’ve had if only Walter felt the same.

Now you’re going to raise the life growing inside of you alone, far away from the friends you made and your beloved home.

“Well, this can’t be helped,” you murmur while rubbing your belly. There’s no swelling yet, but soon enough people will know you’re expecting. “We are going to do this all on our own, bean. Don’t worry. Your mommy is going to give you all the love you’ll need.”

For a few moments, you allow yourself to be sad about the breakup. You cry, you scream, and then you get up to pack up a few more things.

Walter is a nervous wreck. He paces in front of your apartment, the cactus, orchid, and a baby gift hamper in his arms.

“Fuck,” he curses. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Walter curses himself for being a fool. If only he knew that you never wanted to leave him for a better position.

How could he be so blind? How could he not see that your feelings for him were true?

His instinct should’ve told him you are not going to leave him. Instead, he ignored his instinct and listened to the nagging voice in the back of his mind.

“FUCK!” One last time, he takes a deep breath before knocking at your door, using his right elbow.

“Hello, what can I—” You stiffen when your eyes meet Walter’s blue eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I should ask you the same!” He huffs. “I told you so often to not open the door before checking who’s on the other side.”

You huff. “This is how you want to start this conversation? Really, Walter?” He smirks when you put your hands on your hips to glare at him. “What brings you here? Do you want to make sure I’m leaving? Maybe Rachel needs a new apartment, and you want mine.”

“Baby,” he hesitantly says. “Rachel is not, and never will be, a part of my life. She wanted to return for a few months, but we didn’t stay in touch. I lied, believing you want to leave me too. I was hurt and believed hurting you would make me feel better.”

You narrow your eyes. “For a smart detective, you are dumb as a brick.” Slamming the door in his face, you huff. “FUCK YOU!”

“Baby? Uh—will you at least let me explain things? Please?” He knocks at your door again, using his foot this time. “Y/N, please open the door. The cactus is poking my chest, and the orchid looks like it's scared of me.”

You’re tempted to open the door, almost giving in as he keeps talking. “No.”

“Please, at least take the plants. You see, the pretty one is you, soft and sweet. The large, ugly beast is me, rough and grumpy. Even though they are so different, he loves the pretty orchid.” He sighs deeply. “And he hopes that the pretty flower loves him too…”

Walter listens closely. He sucks in a breath when you curse behind the door.

“Baby, I know about the baby,” Walter continues. “I know what I did and said was unforgivable, but please talk to me…”

#walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall x you #walter marshall x y/n #x reader #Gap Filler (2)

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