#bpd reader

[callmezayka]

Simon Riley x BPD!Reader

Fighting in a relationship is always bad, but being who you are? Oh, it was hell.

Especially when you were the wrong one.

The stress from work had your mood swings to intensify, but getting oddly stable when it came to anger. You were constantly pissed for the past few days, and you didn’t even remember it, your brain working almost on autopilot for all these days.

But Simon remembered. Every. Little. Thing. And he had reached his limit.

You barely got time to ask him what was wrong before he started throwing everything you said right at your face, and the way his eyes glazed ever so slightly had you almost on your knees instantly, because you knew you were wrong. You had hurt him, and it broke you.

And you couldn’t even apologize, since he made it crystal clear that he didn’t want to hear your voice. He didn’t want to talk to you, so pissed he was. And you didn’t know what to do.

You couldn’t even cry, since he said with all the letters that you cried all the time, that it felt like you were using it to manipulate him. God, your heart was torn apart.

Hiding into your office, you waited for him to go to the bed so you could crash on the couch, not sure if he would want to sleep by your side or not, so you just took a spare pillow and laid on the couch, heart heavy and throat tight, spiraling into thoughts of self hatred and guilt, letting your demons eat you alive, reviving each one of his words again and again and again until you passed out from exhaustion.

You expected him to talk to you in the morning, to wake you up and tell you to go to bed before he got to work, but no. You woke up alone, with the sound of your alarm, the house completely silent.

He had left already, and still didn’t talk to you.

You tried following your day, putting on a composed face to the kids you take care of at the daycare you work on, but deep inside every second without a word from him felt like a piece of your soul was being ripped, a piece of you dying at each guilty thought.

You wanted to scream, brak something, drink until you passed out, hurt yourself… You had no healthy way to cope with it, to deal with how shitty you felt from hurting the man you loved so dearly. You just hoped he would speak to you when he got home.

He didn’t.

And you broke.

Shutting down completely, you made dinner but refused to eat. You sat by his side on the couch, with enough distance between the two of you, but you couldn’t focus on the tv. You were just there, staring at nothing. Spacing out. Dissociating from the cruel reality of what you’ve done. And you stayed like that for hours, without muttering a single word, without moving a muscle.

And he noticed.

Of course he did, Simon noticed everything.

And it tore at his soul. He hated seeing you like that, doesn’t matter how pissed he was, he just hated seeing you so desperate, so broke, And for something he had already forgiven you for, he just didn’t know how to start a conversation because communications wasn’t his biggest strength, but when he saw you like that, he decided it was enough. His birdie didn’t deserve it, he knew you never meant any of those awful words, right?

So when he was ready to go to bed, he kneeled in front of you, calling your name a few times until your gaze focused on him, tears already gleaming in your eyes.

–Let’s go to bed, baby, yeah?

He said softly, and it was enough to make you break down, hugging him like a lifeline as sobs ripped through your chests in a tidal wave of apologies. He held you tightly, reassuring you that it was okay, he knew you didn’t mean it, he still loved you and that he was fine.

That night, you two slept glued to each other, him fearing you to break down again, you fearing him to get mad at you again, but both just simply happy to be close to each other. To be together.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦. 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

A bit self inspired bc I'm bpd, fought with my bf bc my brain is fucked up and I'm currently wanting to di3? Yes. But at least writer's block is out!

[xbeezchaos]

BPD Howl Pendragon!

I knoooooowwww. I’ve literally been dead for months and apologies for this being something unrelated to the BPD Scara series I’ve been getting at but I��m currently fixated on Howl so I’ll be using him as my projector. I also highly believe this man has BPD and nobody can convince me otherwise

Btw. I don’t condone romanization of mental issues. I’m simply ✨projecting healthily✨

Jealousy flare ups and depressive episodes; what that looks like for Howl

He’s unsure why, but he has been struggling with jealousy in a much higher factor than what he’s typically used to. It may be due to your presence

Ever since you two have gained the new title of dating and made it public, he’s felt a sense of possessiveness over you in a way that felt consuming

He needed you in bed to sleep soundly at night, and if you weren’t there he’d have not a wink of sleep while he held one of your clothing items close, taking in your scent and crying to himself about why you weren’t here

He gets suspicious and jealous when you spend lots of time away from him and with other friends. He trusts you but he’s scared someone will take you away.

You try telling him these things you plan out, but sometimes he won’t listen after he’s become too worked up over the idea of you being away for so long

He spends hours in bed without water or food. No motivation to get up until he gets a message from you encouraging him

Sometimes you have to baby the tall man, wash his hair and brush it for him.

Getting him to eat is the worst, he blames his medication cause the side effects impact his appetite frequently but the benefits are “too good” to give it up for just that

When he does eat, he’s got a sweet tooth like no man’s business, you’d think he’d gone mad with the amount of sugary treats he’d consume. But at least he was eating now so you didn’t complain too much

If he’s not sleeping all day, he’s awake for days on end, unable to sleep and refuses to take his sleep aid pills because “they don’t work.”

He’s secretly really petty towards those around the two of you but tries his best to keep most of it to himself. Even if you know. He won’t tell you.

The sleep aid pills knock him flat on his ass and he hates it. Waking up to your giggles of how he fell asleep in your arms like a snoring baby would make his face flush in embarrassment

He dislikes a lot of people talking to him when he’s upset. He’ll start snapping and going silent. P

Sometimes despite how hard it is to get out of bed, when he does, he’ll try to do small things like clean, eat, and make you little gifts

He made you a phone charm and matching rings to wear, he’d spent all night on it, since he was in bed all day.

It’s hard when he’s having an episode due to his jealousy, if you or someone else doesn’t get to him in time he’ll start calling upon the shadows and it takes quite a while to get him to even process that anyone else besides him is within the vicinity, let alone fully calm down.

He gets very clingy when he’s depressed, he’ll carry around items of yours and calls them “support items”

He looks like a tall child with a blanket as he walks around the house doing his daily business. It’s the best you’ve seen him do in the last few weeks so you try to keep him with his support items often

“Coffee is not a meal, have you eaten anything today?”

“A cheese stick..” you hit him over the head with a rolled up newspaper after that and dragged him to go make food.

He’d done this for over a week now and despite the small efforts, a drink wasn’t enough for him to get through the day.

Extra sassy in his conversations with calcifer

Takes the longest showers ever and he’s always steaming like a boiled potato when he gets out

Becomes a tablet child to compete simple tasks

Irritable as hell when he’s around people he’s not fully comfortable with, like your friends he’s only met twice

He’d eventually try going off on his own and have a good time that way, then eventually end up having an anxiety attack when he starts getting into his own head again

It’s not that he’s not social, but when he feels ignored he gets quite irritable and especially quiet. Which is odd for him because he loves chatting with new people

[allaboutsaturn]

I hope when death finds me it feels like my father carrying me to bed from the car while I'm asleep.

[abbyfmc]

Yandere story idea #57

Yandere Psycho patient! X Depressed/Suicidal Patient! Reader:

A yandere killer is a patient in a mental hospital who, despite his calm appearance, was feared by everyone. The doctors believed he was beyond recovery until they saw him being completely calm around you (you being another patient) and chatting animatedly, like two perfectly normal people. The yandere patient felt very comfortable and happy with you, but when he was taken away from you or other patients hurt you… he lost control and became a murderous beast.

The doctors studied his case and found that around you the yandere patient felt calmer, calmer and more relaxed. He spoke openly about his life and never tried to hurt you, he even painted beautiful pictures for you and accepted your hugs; however… the last nurse who tried to take you away from him… he choked her to death and had to be tied up.

However, not everything is rosy, because like every deranged yandere, he has kidnapped you or locked you in his room/cell several times; he doesn't want to let you go at any time; he has bitten you and even licked the blood from your self-harm wounds several times.

Once you saw him hoarding your bandages dirty with your dried blood, which disgusted you. You yourself have seen the massacres he causes when you get away from him, and although he never dared to raise his hand to you, it is chilling to see him go from being a nice and civilized guy to beating a patient to death with a chair or another object… just because this person took you away from him.

If one day he finds out that you have left the hospital or that you committed suicide, he will lose control and kill whoever is in front of him in ways like I said before.

What do you think about this idea?

[robinvomit]

he found you curled against the far corner of the room, your back to the wall like it was the only thing that wouldn't give way. the words from earlier still hung in the air, sharp and cruel, the kind you didn't mean but said anyway because the world had spun too fast, too loud, and it felt safer to push than to fall.

damian stood in the doorway for a moment, silent. he didn’t look angry. he didn't look cold. just… steady. like he always did. he crossed the room without a word, lowering himself slowly until he was knelt down, settling on the floor beside you.

"i'm not going anywhere," he said. not tender, but sure. like a vow. "you could scream at me. tell me you hate me. burn everything we built to the ground.. and i would still stay until you felt safe again." he reached out, palm open, not touching you unless you gave permission. "you don't have to be soft for me. you don't have to be easy to love. you don't have to force yourself to be anything else. i chose you knowing exactly what storms live in you. and i'm not afraid of drowning."

you didn't speak at first but your hand found his, trembling, unsure if you were even allowed. damian's fingers closed gently around yours like he was holding something sacred. that's how he always held you. before and after a split. like he still saw the same person either way.

"the way your mind turns on you," he mumbled, "i've seen it. you tell yourself i'll leave. that i'll grow tired. that i'll use this moment to walk away. but i need you to hear me, beloved, i don't love you in pieces. i love you even when the pieces are sharp. even when they try to cut me. even then, i will never stop reaching for you. i will not step away over something you can not control."

he stayed there long into the night. holding your hand, forehead pressed gently to your temple, grounding you with the weight of his presence alone. not trying to fix it. not offering empty reassurances. just being there. letting you fall apart and still be loved. teaching you that falling apart didn't mean pushing him away.

that he could handle the screaming. the crying. the breaking. because he would still hold you, whisper to you.. he would still be there when the thoughts and aches subsided.

[cloudedcreams]

thinking of a mentally unstable! yandere who craves your affection.

he’s self destructive. he can’t help it, the feeling of validation he gets carving your name again and again into you skin. he wants you to be a part of him forever, and he craves your love more than anything the could imagine. he doesn’t care, so long as you love him.

it’s overwhelming, to say the least. you fear him, and yet he longs for your attention. there are times where you feel as though you really can’t help him, and the worst part about it is that he doesn’t even want to.

there are times he says he hates you as well. he scratches at his skin and screams at you, leaving you on your knees and clutching at your ears. those are the worst nights of all, seeing him become a victim to his own mood swings. sometimes he’s able to snap himself back, staring down at you and the mess he’s caused before sinking besides you, rocking you in his arms as he shakily promises that it’s going to be okay, that the two of you are fine.

[http-tempted]

big fan of anything that shuts my brain off for days

[soangelbaby]

when no one’s listening - rafe cameron

a៸n ˒ i’ve seen people write rafe like he’s just anger and arrogance. but i know what it’s like to split, to beg without asking. this isn’t for pity, this is for the ones who survive shit they don’t talk about. this is what his episodes look like — through the eyes of someone who lives them. it’s not romantic, it’s real. and sometimes real is ugly, but it still deserves to be seen. ik before i said i didn’t want to get personal on here, but i think rafe and i and all the others who suffer with bpd and see themselves in him deserve this in honor of mental health awareness month, remember to take care of yourselves & you’re not alone <3

cw: bpd, emotional dysregulation, rage episodes, overstimulation, emotional trauma, self-loathing, mental illness portrayal, survivor writing, non-glorified breakdowns, references to parental abuse, dissociation.

it starts small. minor. irritation, overstimulation, overwhelmed. maybe ward didn’t answer the phone when he needed, maybe sarah called him a name and it hit too personally… he tries to brush it off, he really does. but it builds, cuts deeper, and when you’ve been neglected your whole life, those small things? they start to feel like abandonment. his body reacts first — intense stares, eye rolls, twitchy fingers, shallow breathing. he’ll start pacing, chest heaving, sniffling and not always from drugs, sometimes just to ground himself.

his brain spirals fast. it doesn’t tell him ‘i’m upset, let’s take some time—’ no, it tells him ‘they hate me, i’m nothing, i have to do something now or i’ll lose everything.’ thoughts are static, mixed emotions of fear, shame, and the deep urge to act, just to make them feel even a bit of how deep his feelings go even if he doesn’t know what’s he’s doing. he explodes. violently, desperately. yelling, throwing things, threatening people, punching walls, and sometimes himself. it’s always fight or flight — but there’s no flight option. his body always choose violence because he was never taught to regulate, to regain control of himself through patience and respect.

and then he crashes. the realization of how far he’s gone — again.. how deep this is embedded into him, how he feels like he’ll never be normal or enough ever again. he cries, he begs, sobs of ‘fuckfuckfuck’ or ‘m’ sorry, m’ so fuckin’ sorry’ even though there’s no one there. he just talks to himself, trying to rationalize it, trying to make sense of what he is and how he feels. it’s all foggy and that just makes him wanna punish himself more. he pleads for forgiveness, for control, for someone to love him anyway despite his fuckups, his baggage, his damage..

and when ward shows up, gives him a nod and a pat on the back, tells him to pull it together and ‘be a man’ he feels okay again, even though he’s not. it’s like a hit of dopamine, like he finally did something right, like maybe he can handle it, like just maybe he isn’t too much….

but at the end of the day, it’s all the same, he’s set off and the cycle repeats. because no one ever came, no one ever comforted him, no one ever taught him how to stop, so he does it all again, sometimes mistakenly, sometimes self sabotaging deliberately… because even the pain is better than being invisible…

[fictoweirdoesten]

"You wish you had a skinnier partner, huh Caleb?"

"You prefer women with bigger breasts, right Caleb?"

"Men like ass don't they? I feel bad that you're dating me, Caleb, I've got nothing back there."

"I'm sorry I'm such a shut-in Caleb. I must be really boring to you."

"Sorry for being so unstable. You can break up with me if you want."

"I bet you-"

*Tackles and kisses all over your pretty face*

"Please don't talk about my favorite person like that, 'pip. I think they're absolutely stunning just the way they are, and I'll never let them go, no matter what."

Caleb wouldn't let you self-sabotage. He'd always reassure you that he'll never leave you, that he loves you, and that he'll always be there for you until you start to calm again 🖤

And no, it's not a burden for him, never is, never will be.

I wish men were real

[coffinflopssupercoolblog]

Anybody Else

one shot, short, yan story

Yandere Popular Girl! x Goth Girl Darling Reader!

TW: Stalking, Implied murder, Obsessive Behavior

Jennifer Pent was beyond rich, she was immensely popular, and she was obsessed with you. 

Your family barely scraped by, people hated you, and you were constantly bullied and harassed.

 She started off hating you just as much as any other in your school, making fun of you with her friends, calling you a freak, all unbeknownst to you of course. 

But one day, you bumped into her, she started off livid, turning around ready to curse you out, but then you apologized before she could get anything out, so damn scared, shy, adorable. 

It wasn’t fucking fair, the way you had made her feel, with just one fucking look. Her chest was tight, her knees got unbelievably weak. What the hell was going on. She acknowledged you shortly trying to hide how hard she was blushing. How could she have even considered cursing you out? 

After that day she started subtly following you, showing up at the same stores as you, her group sitting at a table closer to the corner you sat alone at. Even stealthily following you home after school. 

She had to figure out what the hell it was about you that was so different. Out of fascination only of course, there was no way she could be in love, she never had been and believed she never would, it was a waste of time after all.

But as she observed you, her obsession only grew. The way you treated everyone with such kindness, the way you worked extra jobs to support your family, and god damn that makeup was actually really fucking cute. Everything about you was intoxicating. And on the weekends, when all you’d do is sleep after so much hard work during the week, the way you slept so peacefully, adorable. She’d spend hours secretly staring at you through your window as you slept your weekends away.

And when just watching became too much to bear, she even began striking up conversations with you. For the first time it felt like you had a real friend in the school, even multiple, suddenly people were treating you well, and the people that didn’t disappeared soon after, she made sure of it. 

The bosses that payed you so little and treated you so poorly, all “mysteriously” brightened up significantly, each offering you large raises and far better hours until eventually you went from three jobs every week day, to 2 hours a week at one job for 4 times the pay. She was just so happy seeing the face you’d make each time they offered you better hours or more money. A face worth every cent she spent paying them off. 

When she asked about the bruise on your face you responded casually, it hadn’t been the first time someone had attacked you, and it wouldn’t be last, but she was livid. You could see her face burning with rage demanding the names of who had hurt you, who had hurt her y/n. 

The next couple of days you didn’t see her, it was disappointing as you had grown fairly attached to the seemingly constant affection she had been lapping on you since you had met her. Gifting you small oddities she thought you’d like, animal bones, horror vhs’s, tarot cards, paying for you whenever you decided to eat out for lunch, giving you rides wherever you asked and always letting you play whatever music you liked. 

Though despite her being gone, you never really felt that you were alone. The sense that someone was watching you followed wherever you went.

You originally worried that your attackers were planning their next move, but then they started to disappear entirely, Missing persons posters appearing around the school.

When she eventually reappeared, she was ecstatic to see you, practically charging into you as she pushed a gift box into your arms. Unwrapping it you found a smattering of beautiful rings,  necklaces, and bracelets, each one adorned with a blood red jewel. You were so happy you hardly noticed the connection between the number of attackers and the amount of jewelry along with the scratches on her arms and neck. (probably nothing)

As you put them on she looked at you expectantly. “I love em Jen, they’re gorgeous”. The words sent her mind careening, she had always hated that nickname, but from your lips, she could be called Jen for the rest of her life, and not only that, she made you happy, you were happy because of her. Your grateful smile only did more to intoxicate her, she loved your smile, it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. “You okay Jen?, you seem a bit… flushed” you said. She quickly regained her cool “yeah, just tired from the running”. “Well the sweaty look suits you. You should try it more often”, you responded. 

Fuck, she was so close to pulling it all off. It was always a challenge being normal around you, trying not to seem desperate for your attention and praise. But after such a sweet compliment, and one with such explicit possible interpretations. And after days of only watching you from afar, taking pictures of you when she could spare the time in between taking out her revenge on the people that had wronged you. With only a few words you had completely destroyed any semblance of composure she had left. 

Turning redder than you had previously believed possible she excused herself and sprinted to the bathroom, quickly locking herself in a stall.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. She couldn’t deny it anymore as she felt her heart beating out her chest, she wasn’t just curious about you, or interested, or even fascinated, she was completely obsessed, in love.

She was furious at herself, she had a reputation to uphold damn it. Why did you have to be so sweet, so kind, so damn perfect. Why did her knees have to get weak for hours after talking to you? Why did you have to be the only thing she ever wanted to think about?  

But god damn her reputation, when she wanted something, she took it, and she wanted you, so she would have you. 

From then on she was never without you, your schedules mysteriously got changed by a “glitch” in the school system so that all your classes were together and you were constantly being invited by her to a barrage of sleepovers, study sessions, and parties. All of which, she used as an excuse to talk to you exclusively, refusing to even acknowledge anyone else when you were around. 

 When you’d get tired of the constant social interaction, she’d drive you home, even walk you to your door. And every night she always spent at least an hour or two watching you sleep through your window. 

And even then, it wasn’t enough to satiate her obsession. She wanted to be yours and you to be hers. She needed to be close to you, to feel you.

She  began breaking into your room when you were asleep taking small items, surely you wouldn't miss them, and they just smelled so much like you, how could she be expected to resist? And when she felt particularly bold, she would hold your hand and play with your hair, you always seemed to have such terrible nightmares, she just couldn’t bear the idea of not comforting you through them. 

When you got sick with the stomach flu she could hardly breathe, all she wanted was to make everything perfect for you. Watching you in such pain, and with no one to take revenge on to make things better, destroyed her. 

30 seconds after you texted her back saying you were sick, you heard your doorbell ring (how did she get there so fast). When your parents let her into your room, her hands were filled to bursting with grocery bags containing your favorite snacks, pain killers, anti nausea medication, and plushies she had seen you eyeing. She was gonna make everything perfect, just for you. And goddamn if she didn’t enjoy how excited you looked looking through your gifts, fucking adorable.

Everytime you insisted that you were contagious she seemed to only coddle you more. Inching closer while insisting on watching your favorite movies with you, even though she was clearly far too much of a chicken for the horror movies. Completely worth it for an excuse to grab onto you while she was scared.

 Her heart broke every time you coughed and she was holding back tears when you threw up, all while she held your hair and softly stroked your back. 

It wasn’t fair, how the world was hurting you when you were so perfect. The world didn’t deserve you, every time someone so much as breathed the same air as you, she was enraged. How dare they take what could have been enjoyed by her darling. And now the world decided not just to deprive you, but to hurt you. It was all too much to handle.

Cleaning you up and seeing you so miserably in pain was what finally broke her. To your complete shock, she started  sobbing. She burrowed herself into your lap and wrapped her arms around you, falling into complete hysterics.

“I-i-i t’s n-not fair! Sob  You d-d-don’t sob sob deserve this! I’ll make it better, sob sob sob sob sob I p-p-p-promise!”

She was mortified with herself, this was it, she finally fucked up too bad to recover from. The jig was up, surely now you’d be horrified with her, ask her to leave you alone, abandon her. She couldn’t breathe, she was unbelievably nauseous (how fast did the stomach flu transmit anyways)

The thought of losing you was world ending, nothing could possibly hurt more. She couldn’t even summon the strength to look up from your lap to meet your undoubtedly horrified face. She had to fix things, no matter how desperate the measures necessary. Her world was ending, it was hail mary time. 

She steeled her strength, ready to face her doom and fight it with every atom of her being. But when she finally looked she found an expression she didn’t expect, concern. Not horror, or realization or disgust, but concern. Her whole body was melting. You cared. 

You moved closer and began wiping the tears from her face while asking simple questions to try and gauge what had happened. But as soon as you moved the tears,new ones took their place out of sheer joy. Not only did you care, but you were helping her. She practically melted at your touch paying no mind to what you were actually saying. 

As her smile grew you slowly pulled away realizing she was doing better and letting her cry as much as she needed unimpeded. 

You began apologizing, believing that something you did must have set her off, and trying to make it better. God you were fucking dense, adorable. Seeing you scramble over yourself was getting to be too much. You were too god damn cute. And fuck, she was in your room, on your bed, all with you letting it happen. What better time? It was now or never.

 She pulled you in for a kiss. 

God damn did she enjoy it, Soft, passionate, warm, perfect. Just like everything else you had blessed her with. When you finally pulled away, god knows she was never gonna be the one to break off a kiss, you were completely red.

“Wait, you’re into me?” was all you could get out. Of course she was, what the fuck do you mean. God fuck, it was all too cute. Your shock, how much you seemed to reciprocate, the sickly glow you had taken on. 

All she could do in response was wrap herself around you. As you put your arms around her in response she completely melted into you. This was everything she had been dreaming of since you had met, and god damn if it wasn’t living up past even her wildest expectations. Everything was just so perfect.

You leaned back, pulling her into a full hug, and planted a kiss on her forehead. By this point, hearts were practically etched into her eyes as she held you so tightly she risked breaking your back. She peppered your face with kisses in response, it just felt so good to be close to you.

This process continued for what felt like hours, exchanging various forms of affection, both too scared to say anything. Until eventually you had comfortably settled into spooning her while she played with your hair. Everything about you was electrifying, she couldn’t believe how lucky she was. You were amazing, perfect, and you were holding her.

When the silence finally got to be too much she decided she might as well state the obvious. “I love you y/n”

“I love you too Jen”

Jennifer Pent was never going to let you go.

[cliosunshine]

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

jason todd x gn!reader; alfred pennyworth

warnings: none

word count: 1.9k

author's note: I kinda hate this ngl, it's like I've lost all my (albeit very poor) preexistent writing abilities; enjoy!

"Alfred, could you please pass me the cocoa powder?"

The butler hummed, handing you the box as he looked over the batter you were mixing up, "Of course, Miss Y/N."

"Thanks."

The manor was eerily silent, except for the quiet exchanges between you and Alfred. Bruce was busy at some event overseas that required his presence as playboy billionaire, while Dick and Tim were both working. Damian, Steph and Cass were in school/uni and Jason was on a week-long mission with the Outlaws. Oh, and today was your day off.

"Miss Y/N, I think you should need to add the flour first."

Forgotten, half-empty teacups were placed on each opposite end of the kitchen island. You peered down at a safe distance at Alfred's old recipe notebook, worried about staining the pristine pages with your cocoa powder-stained fingers. Instead, you squinted your eyes to read the instructions better.

"Ah, yes, you're right. Thanks Albert."

"No worries."

You tried yout best not to mess up the measurements as you lightly swayed to the jazzy melodies playing from the living room's phonograph. You learned from your first visit at the manor that it had belonged to Bruce's grandfather and the records Alfred often played eased Jason's mind. You smiled at the thought of your boyfriend.

"Alfred, do you think Jay will like these?"

The butler, now seated, finished his sip of tea before speaking.

"I sure do, Miss Y/N," He reassured you, "Brownies were Master Jason's favourite dessert when he was younger, and he seemed to favour Mrs. Wayne's recipe very dearly."

You attached the handle of the stand mixer as you turned to smile at Alfred, forgetting to put the setting on low as a cloud of flour engulfed you.

You coughed up flour as you blindly reached for the power lever.

"Oh no, wait- How do I stop this?!"

You could've easily passed as Caspar's cousin by the way the flour managed to find its way in your hair, on your face and all over your apron. Lucky for you, Alfred managed to shut the machine off as he directed an amused smile your way.

"I reckon that it is time for me to step in, Miss Y/N."

You huffed as you dusted yourself off, a downturned smile betraying your disappointed expression, "It's supposed to be your day off, Alfred! I just wanted to make something nice for you and the others once they returned to the manor..."

The butler cleaned the counter from and removed the handle attached to the stand mixer, taking a silicone spatula out of one of the drawers.

"Mixing the batter by hand will help," He commented as he began delicately incorporating the dry ingredients to the butter, chocolate and sugar concoction you were at least able to make.

It was your time to sit down with your cup of tea now. You admired the dexterity of the older man: every little movement was calculated, not a single step misplaced.

You had been coming to the manor for over two years now, and whilst the others were excited to welcome Littlewing's s/o to the family (Dick's words not yours), the one person you were the most nervous about meeting and desperately wanted to be liked by, was Alfred.

You had heard countless stories of the man from Jason, and it didn't take you very long to figure out he must've been and still was a very important role and a save haven for him.

You also had the privilege of trying some of Alfred's baking that Jason managed to sneak from the manor and well, it made you nostalgic for a childhood in where you'd probably never eaten white chocolate and macadamia nut cookies but god could you feel it in your soul.

And as far as you were concerned, anyone who could manage to speak to your soul with their cooking/baking deserved all your respect.

"Miss Y/N, could you hand me the chocolate bar?"

"Of course," you stood up and walked over to him, watching intently as he chopped the dark chocolate with fine precision, "Is that the same brand Mrs. Wayne used?"

"It is, yes. It must've been over half a century now, when she first showed me how to execute the recipe without any difficulties," he reminisced as the kept working the knife against the cutting board.

You could only nod as you kept your gaze on the wrapping by the bowl.

"You know, Miss Y/N," began Alfred, "you remind me an awful lot of her."

You froze mid-sway, devoid of words as you continued to look at the wrapping.

"What?"

Alfred's gaze met yours, and something hidden behind his blue eyes - affection, sadness - made you take a deep breath.

"How so?" You pried, now very curious at his statement.

He looked to his right, where there, on the wall by the kitchen's fireplace, a picture of Thomas and Martha Wayne was hung.

"The first time Jason brought you here," he began, "you carried yourself with the same modesty yet determination and strong will power. it had been a while since someone reminded me of her so strongly - master Bruce felt it, too, that day."

His eyes shined with unshed tears as he continued.

You looked at the frame on the wall.

"Nobody really knew that master Jason had a partner, not even master Timothy had been aware of the fact, so bringing you here after months of master Dick's pleading was bound to be a memorable event."

"Yeah," you chuckled, "it took Dick breaking into Jason's apartment in the middle of the night while I was staying over, for him to finally give in,"

The corners of Alfred's eyes crinkled.

"You're good for him, miss Y/N. Your calm presence grounds him immensely."

You felt you face heat up at the compliment. Clearing your throat, you nodded once bashfully.

"Did you preheat the oven?"

"I sure did. 180°C, right?"

"Correct."

Alfred handed you the pan and you slid it in the oven.

Now all you had to do was wait.

You checked the grandfather clock by the hallway. It was 5.30 p.m.

"Well," you clapped once, "time to clean up."

The butler dismissed you with his hand.

"It is alright, Miss Y/N," he stated, starting to put the sugar away, "I will take care of it."

You kept quiet and as his back was turned, you grabbed as many ingredients as you could muster and made your way to the pantry.

"Nonsense," you exclaimed as you returned and dusted off the scale, "I presented the idea in the first place, so it is my duty to clean everything up."

Alfred closed him eyes in mock frustration, making you chuckle.

"Are you planning to stay for dinner?"

"Oh no, don't worry about that, I'll be home in a jiffy. I don't want to intrude, especially on your day off from everybody, in fact I should go right now-"

"How long has he been away, Miss Y/N?"

Body stilling, you turned halway as your hands stopped untying the knot at the back of your apron.

"Uhm-...6 days,"

"Then I cannot allow you to spend another evening by yourself."

"No, Alfred, really, it's ok-"

"You should stay, sweetheart."

You whipped your head at the voice by the kitchen door, the movement nearly giving you whiplash.

Jason was leaning against the doorframe, both his arms and his legs crossed. His face held an expression you couldn't quite pin point - his eyes seemed to have been gazing longingly at you and Albert, as if remembering something.

"Jaybee!"

In a hurry of both excitement and stupor, you flung yourself at him, making him react quickly in order to catch you.

You pressed you face in the crook of his neck, breathing deeply. He smelled of soap and leather. He must've taken a shower before coming to the manor, as his civilian clothes also hinted.

Jason reciprocated the hug and lifted you up for a few seconds, nuzzling his nose in your hair. You felt him let a breath of relief as his shoulders sagged, finally relaxing after almost a week.

"You came early," you smiled.

"Mission went smoothly for once," he shrugged, clearly trying to hide his own happiness.

Your feet found the ground and you pecked him on the lips once, aware of Alfred's presence in the room.

The older man had a relaxed expression on his face.

"Welcome home, master Jason," he greeted him, "It's good to hear everything went well,"

Basking in the quiet and easy atmosphere created in the kitchen, Jason let a genuine smile leave his lips, one of those that reached his half-closed eyes and made his nose slighly wrinkle. You loved seeing him that at ease with someone other than yourself.

Pulling away from him, you went to check the brownies baking in the oven.

"What were you guys making?" Asked Jason, curious about the apron on you and Alfred and having half an idea thanks to the smell of chocolate engulfing the space.

"Miss Y/N was very enthusiastic on making you and others brownies." Explained Alfred, "Martha Wayne's recipe, to be precise."

Jason's eyes lit up at that. He let out a groan as he approached the oven, where you were squatting to get a better view of the pan.

"God, I love you"

You looked up as heat spread all over your face. Alfred cleared his throat and made him way out of the kitchen, giving the both of you a last, knowing smile.

You got up and followed his retreating figure with your eyes.

"You've been here all day?"

"Mh...since uh, 10 in the morning." You said softly, keeping your gaze on you boyfriend and checking for any visible injuries on his face. Not having found any, you sighed in relief.

"Alfred invited me. We made lunch together, and we also made blueberry cupcakes for Damian's class"

Jason leaned down and kissed your forehead in appreciation. He loved when his two favourite people spent time together.

He had to admit he was may more nervous than you at the thought of introducing you to Alfred, more than he was about Bruce, but after he saw the proud look the older man sent his way at the end of the first dinner you spent in the manor, he knew he had made the right choice.

The right choice in bringing you to the manor, the right choice in committing to you, the right choice in letting you see him, flaws and all.

"Stay with us for dinner, doll"

"Wait, what happened to big, scary Jason Todd who can't bear to stand anywhere near his siblings?"

Jason grinned misceviously.

"Nothing at all, princess. In fact, nobody could make it for dinner today,"

"What about Damian and Steph-" you couldn't finish the question that Jason shushed you, chuckling as you shot him a glare, knowing very well you hated to be interrupetd.

"Don't worry about it, Y/N. Now, why don't you get get cozied up by the fireplace and let me arrange a charcuterie for the three of us?"

"Ohh, fancy"

"-wait, where did you get the French wine?"

Now, brownies on the cooling rack, Bruce's French cheese and wine on the coffeetable by the main fireplace, you, Jason and Alfred had settled into a comfortable silence, the only source of sound coming from the phonograph by the patio doors. Jason visibly relaxed even further from its soothing melodies, Etta James' voice carrying throught the room and making him melt in the expensive leather couch, shoulders bumping with yours and head almost resting on top of yours.

Alfred looked at the two of you from his place in the armchair and couldn't help but feel his heart burst with love and happiness at seeing his boy, Jason, relaxed and completely at ease for the first time in a very, very long time.

[ryniswright]

ᯓ★ THE MOON BOYS AFTER AN ARGUMENT WITH THEIR PARTNER

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

(soft headcanons) (giving and receiving care)

| g!n reader | sfw | steven grant | marc spector | jake lockley |



STEVEN GRANT

✶⋆.˚ Steven isn’t the type to start arguments; he will almost always discuss things openly enough to avoid them. Although, when you do argue it’ll usually be from misinterpretations you’ll only laugh about together after. Like you doing something different that he takes as a sign of ill intent. Or him doing something that you feel is abandonment. None of the threats you’d perceive between each other would be true.

✶⋆.˚ Throughout the argument he would make sure to gently reassure you. He’d sprinkle in “I love you’s” and “we’re getting through this” to make sure you feel safe. He knows that you take things hard and wouldn’t want you to feel like he doesn’t love you. Even when he’s frustrated with you.

‎✶⋆.˚ He would definitely want to cuddle after an argument and he’d try to bury himself into you while you stroke his hair. You’d do a lot of reassuring him, making sure he knows that you don’t hate him just because you two had a disagreement. He is brave, but he trusts you enough to show this kind of vulnerability. “So you’re sure you don’t hate me?” He’d ask while practically sitting in your lap with your hands running through his hair.

✶⋆.˚ He never wants to see you upset. So knowing that he upset you, even when you upset him too, would be devastating. He’d do everything he can to make it up for you, then when you tell him he doesn’t have to he’d do things sneakily. You’d wake up to a clean kitchen and a packed lunch that he claims was a “spontaneous decision.”

MARC SPECTOR

✶⋆.˚ Marc suppresses a lot of emotions. He’s working on it, for you, but there would be points where things he failed to bring up boil over and cause him to start arguments. The ones he starts himself would typically be because he’s worried about you, jealous, or self destructing.

✶⋆.˚ You’d always know when he’s trying to self-destruct. You’d know he’s only attempting to hurt you because he feels that that’s who he is. It would often be in an effort to “show you his true colors” or “harm you before you can harm him.” You’d listen and gently reassure him the entire time he masks his fear with anger because you know his real true colors. On the inside he is a lover boy with a heart of gold.

✶⋆.˚ Arguments are very triggering for him because of his childhood. He wouldn’t say or show it to you, of course, but you’d see the way that he shakes a bit even when you’re having regular disagreements. He’d probably try to distance himself from you while arguing because he feels like he’s only harming you. You’d always find him and reassure him, even when he’s still pissed. “Marc I will always love you even when we’re frustrated with each other.”

✶⋆.˚ He’d eventually come back to you and silently initiate physical contact. He’d massage your hands and gently kiss them, like an apology from him and an acceptance of yours all in one. It’s hard for him not to distance himself, so this contact is a big deal for him and something he can only do with someone he truly trusts and loves. “I’m sorry” he’d eventually say verbally. “I’m sorry too.” and he’d take you into his arms.

damn i made him bpd coded

JAKE LOCKLEY

✶⋆.˚ Yes, Jake is an intense person, but he would never pick petty fights with someone he loves as much as you. Play fights are excluded from this of course, he’d love to tease you, but real fights would almost always be rooted in fear about your wellbeing. He wouldn’t be able to rest if he didn’t feel you were safe or taking proper care of yourself. So, he tends to get pushy with those things.

✶⋆.˚ The second you communicate an issue you’re having or a boundary you need he’d immediately apologize and fix it. He’d make sure that he’s respecting you and giving you all of the admiration that you deserve. Afterall, you are his love. You mean the world to him and slight changes are nothing if they make you more comfortable.

✶⋆.˚ After arguments he would go over the top with apologies. He’d constantly say things like “Lo siento, mi vida” and “let me make it up to you, mi querido.” (even after you’ve assured him a hundred times that he has nothing to make up to you). He’d massage you, bring you drinks, and dote on you for the rest of the day. He can’t bear to see the love of his life hurt and he loves doing acts of service for you. You’d tell him he doesn’t need to do all of this, but it would only strengthen his resolve.

✶⋆.˚ Just like when he’s excited, when he gets really angry he starts slipping into Spanish more and more. Even mid argument you love hearing him in his native language. You’d pick up on the broad strokes of what he’s saying from your studying- you’re learning for him, of course. It’s the least you can do for someone who means the world to you.

[voidpvllman]

beautiful nightmare | bob reynolds

[ and the void, and sentry] *part two of a very clear something

summary: a month after the events of the void, bob starts remembering everything. the others started treating him differently, avoiding him, treating him like a time bomb about to explode and destroy the world again. you were the only one who didn’t avoid him, refusing to push him away, not letting him push you away; still keeping him close to you.

content warnings: 18+: significant dark, heavy themes but no smut. slightly toxic relationship, angst, dark themes, mental health struggles, very heavy bpd representation, self harm mentions and implied, implied abuse, sexual themes, violence, ptsd, trauma, panic attacks, degrading (not in that way) reliving trauma, mention of death, panic attack, nightmares, choking (not in that way), void. (thats it, just void as a warning) ….fluff! (i promise)

**i apologize in advance: this is mostly not happy. this was supposed to be two parts but now it will be three because i still haven’t even gotten to the main prompt and plot i had for this…

bob was muttering slightly in his sleep, shifting around, thrashing around under the sheets. you yelped slightly as a foot kicked out, making contact with your calf, then again when his arm flailed, coughing as it slapped against your throat. bob jolted slightly as you made a choking sound. you rubbed your throat, sitting up slightly, trying to silently get air back into your lungs. bob jerked around, his breath inextricably becoming quick and shallow. you massaged your neck, tears blurring your eyes slightly, “bob-“ you coughed again, climbing back over to bob, shaking him gently. “bob–“ you shook him more frantically as he began hyperventilating. “bob! bob!” you were getting more i worried as he didn’t wake up. he was sometimes a deep sleeper, but you had to pull him out of his nightmare.

“robert. hey. hey… bob… bob. baby… hey-“ he inhaled sharply, eyes snapping open, pupils blown wide. he was soaked in sweat, breaths rapid and uneven. he was looking around the room frantically, fists gripping the sheets tightly. “bob.” he was staring at the wall; same expression, same rapid breathing. you shifted again, climbing behind him. you wrapped your arms around him, squeezing tightly. he tensed when your fingers tucked under his shirt. his breath shook slightly, a sniffle, almost like he was crying. you buried your face into neck, ignoring the sweat on his skin and his sticky curls against your cheeks. bob relaxed finally, sinking into your touch. “hey,” his breathing calmed as you kept your arms around him, whispering in a soft voice against his skin. he hiccuped slightly. another sniffle. “baby.. are you…” he turned before you could finish the question, collapsing into your lap and hugging your waist. he buried his face against your stomach. he was shaking slightly, eyes squeezed shut tightly. “tell me about it..?” bob shook his head against you, taking deep breaths as he tried to ground himself. you started playing with his hair and he sank into you even more, “you know it helps to talk to me about it. you can’t keep it in…” the lights flickered above your head and you tensed slightly. “you…” bob’s voice shook. the lights flickered again, the nightstand vibrating beside you. “you died.” the voice was deeper, haunted, raspy…dark. you took in a sharp breath. bob was fighting for control. “bob, stay with me.” his breathing grew rapid again. “bob...” your voice was a warning; it shook slightly, failing to hide your fear. the lights flickered once more, then dimmed fully. “no.” the voice gave you chills. the room dropped several degrees. the only light was from the stars that blinked in from the window. and the glowing eyes that now stared at you, inches from your face.

“shit—“ it came out before you could stop it. you didn’t move, not wanting to let it know you were terrified. “you can’t hide your fear from me.” you sucked in a breath, heart racing. “i can sense your heart racing. i can… feel it.” his hand grabbed your shirt, fisting the fabric as he pulled you against him. “so….fragile. so…” he stroked your face, and a puddle of blood flashed in your mind. “no…” it came out as a whimper, not wanting to go back to that day again. “so broken.” you faught the tears filling your eyes; that was exactly what it wanted. “stop.” it hummed in disapproval, tilting his head slightly. “pathetic little speck, really. you think you can help him? you let your sister die.” “no… stop.” your voice had lost it’s fight; tears stinging as they ran down your cheeks. “you couldn’t save anyone. why do you think you can help him at all? you are just as useless and screwed up as he is.” “please stop…” you felt a tightness in your chest, your head throbbed as you forced yourself to keep resisting. “beg.” “i won’t.” another memory slammed into your mind. you were pinned to the ground. “stop-! stop…” you felt nausea rise in your stomach, twisting, blurring your vision.

“beg.”

“why are you doing this..?” you knew you couldn’t fight him much longer. you were crying, knees feeling weak as you trembled slightly, backed up against the headboard. “because he deserves it.” he. it was using you to hurt bob. “you’ll be relieved to know that instead of showing him real memories- and every shameful thing he’s done, i’m showing him many ways that you could die.” “no—“ it tilted it’s head again, “the nightmare i gave him was almost enough to break him. but not quite… i think soon, however, he’ll break completely and give me full control again.” full control… bob was still in there somewhere, maybe trying to fight back again. you felt your chest tighten, “let him go.” “i told you-“ it grabbed your throat, lifting you up, pinning you against the wall, “to beg.” you gasped, choking as you desperately tried to get air. “you’re doing this for fun–“ your vision swam, darkness edging around your eyes. it growled, a slight content hum as you figured him out. “endearing, really. how you’re willing to offer yourself instead of him.” you hadn’t even finished the thought. “take me instead. i’ll let you in. i’ll relive whatever… horror you find the most amusing.” another growl. you still had not given him what he wanted. you closed your eyes, fists clenched, taking in a deep breath. “please. take me instead. just leave him alone… i’m begging you. please just let him go.” it growled again; hungry, animalistic, satisfied.

the room fell silent. when you opened your eyes again, you weren’t alone. you had braced yourself for the red room. or the hotel. or your sister’s desecrated grave. or her lifeless, strangled body. it was bob. he was young- probably not even a teenager yet. he was crying, curled up tightly within himself. his face and arms was bloody and already bruising. you closed your eyes shut, turning your head away. “no… not this. please not this.” a hand grabbed your chin roughly, forcing you to look at the beaten and broken boy again. “i don’t— i can’t help him!“ you choked out a sob, gasping for a breath that wasn’t cut short. “i can’t help him…” “no one can. no one did.” he yanked your face up to look at him. you were back in a new place. a dirty hotel room. wrappers littered the floor, a few needles scattered on the table. “oh my god-“ you were shaking your head, tears falling more rapidly. you tried to look away, you tried fighting his grip on you. he just squeezed your jaw, snapping your head back to the unconscious form on the couch. you squeezed your eyes shut, feeling the burning in your throat as you swallowed the salty tears that had run down face. “open your eyes!” you did so, beginning to sob. “look at us! you can’t help him!” it had said us. “you promised to stop this. you— please stop hurting him. please just—“ you felt heavy, exhausted; almost completely broken… the scene changed again. empty plastic bags in a bathroom, blood pooling on the floor, a pale, skinny wrist lazily wrapped before he had passed out. you felt the ripping, searing pain, as you let out a scream you could hear. your vision went dark just as you felt arms wrapping around you, catching you. holding you tightly.

it was him… bob.

“no no no no no no- hey- hey—“

the room faded, the echo of your screams faded.

“look at me, baby. stay with me- stay with me, angel-“

everything faded into black.

you woke up in your bed with a start. you were shaking slightly, your head throbbing. there was a coldness settled around you, causing you to shiver. you pulled the blankets up to your chin, closing your eyes tightly. bucky was sat at the end of your bed, eyeing you darkly. his brows were furrowed, eyes wide in concern. “what happened?” you shook your head, tears threatening to spill out once again. “what happened?” he repeated it, more commanding. “where’s bob?” bucky narrowed his eyes slightly, “it was my turn to take wa— to look after you.” you opened your eyes, attention snapping to bucky. “where is bob?” “he’s… in his room.” the expression that passed over his face had you jumping to your feet. “don’t– maybe just stay away from for a while…” “that is the worst thing for him.” you nearly sprinted as you headed to his room. “bob.. are you okay?” the door was locked, silence on the other side of the door. “open the door.” silence. a sniffle. “robert renolds, open this door right now.” there was a slight gasp from the other side of the door, shuffling, the door unlocked. you pushed the door open before he could. his eyes were bloodshot. his shoulders relaxed when he saw you. “you weren’t there when i woke up. i was hoping that my favorite person would be there with me. instead, i woke up to a bucky interrogation.” bob just stared at the floor, chest rising and falling unevenly. you closed the door behind you and reached to pull bob into a hug. his eyes widened and he backed away from you, “don’t touch me!” you flinched, pulling your hand back in subconscious reaction. “don’t… don’t- stay away from me… i- i don’t want to hurt you.” your heart dropped, chest constricting. you took a step towards him, slowly, “bob…” he just shook his head, eyes filling with tears. “i hurt you… i- he hurt you.” his eyes flickered slightly, “he hurt you. and i couldn’t stop him. i couldn’t- i couldn’t do anything to help you. i- i could only watch. watch as he… showed you everything… and as he choked you and.. said- said those things-“ he squeezed his shut, tears running down his cheeks. “i’m so sorry, i-“ his eyes opened, widening, as your fingers stroked his cheek. he stumbled backwards, terrified. “bob stop. please stop.” he shook his head, “i saw… i- please just stay away from me. i can’t hurt you again. i can’t. i would rather die than hurt you, please i—“ “no. robert, no. stop talking like that right now. i will not hear you talk about— not after—“ you exhaled slightly, voice shaking as the tears threatened to spill. your fingers trailed up just behind his ears, “look at me.” he didn’t flinch at your touch this time, he didn’t pull away from you, but he didn’t look at you. “look at me, bob.”

bloodshot eyes met yours. he looked broken, shattered, completely unlike the bob that had first nestled himself into you, burying himself against your chest, managing to sink right into your heart. “i am not afraid of you. and i am not leaving you alone right now.” bob took a shaky breath. he had grabbed onto your waist, tightly, holding onto you like you were all that held him together. “i’m so sorry- i didn’t- i never wanted anyone to see that, i- i never wanted you to see that- any of that- i tried burying those memories, never letting them out- and- you of all people. i’m sorry. i never wanted you to- i’m a lot better now. i’m- i’m not that person, i- i’m better. i will be better… i- i won’t ever be him again.” you thought, at first that he meant the void. or maybe the drugs… but then you followed his eyes, to a bloodstained sleeve. your heart dropped, began racing. “what did you do….” it came out as a broken whisper. “you—“ you couldn’t breathe as you forced yourself to stay standing. he couldn’t look at you. he refused. eyes squeezed shut against the rushing tears. there was a blood stain on the bathroom floor that you needed to ignore. he stumbled behind you as you lead him in by the arm. bob was sobbing, no longer able to hold himself together. he kept his head down as you pulled his shirt off. he was ashamed. embarrassed. you wrapped a wet, hot towel around his wrist, holding it tightly. keeping pressure on it, but not wanting to hurt him more.

you couldn’t even speak to him. what would you say? that you were sorry? you hated that he blamed himself for the other one’s actions. that he couldn’t always beat his demons? that despite the powers and the physical embodiment of depression and dark thoughts, he was still human. that no matter how dark it got for him he would always have you; and that he should never assume that he wouldn’t. that you felt broken and helpless and useless to help him? that you were so angry at him for doing this to himself that you were shaking? “i love you.” was what eventually came out of your mouth. he looked up at you with wide eyes, expression softening slightly. you had finished cleaning him up and wrapped his wrist. “you shouldn’t.” his voice was barely loud enough to hear, shattered, just like him right now, “i don’t deserve it. i don’t deserve you…”

“i don’t care. i don’t care if you think you deserve this.” you motioned to the freshly wrapped gauze, “i don’t care if you think you deserve to die alone. or die young. i don’t care about any of it. i will never see you the way you see yourself. and i will never leave you alone with those thoughts.” bob finally let himself collapse into you. he let himself sob into your shoulder, loudly, ugly, raw. he knew you. he knew you always meant what you said and how you hated lying. and he knew you had meant that you loved him. “i’m sorry- i’m so sorry-“ you just held him tighter, letting your bodies sink to the floor. he cried into you until he ran out of tears. out of breath. you kissed his head, stroked his hair, lowered your head to whisper in his ear. “i love you so much. i love you so much…” you repeated it until it sunk in and bob let himself believe it. finally, he looked up at you, eyes puffy, bloodshot, exhausted. “it wasn’t your fault.” bob nodded once, but he still didn’t fully let himself believe it, “i love you.” you kissed him so gently that it pained physically hurt, “i love you so much. and i don’t think i deserve you but i promise you, i will do everything it takes, even if it lasts my entire life, to deserve you. and to feel like i finally do.”

well shit.

now you were crying again. “please don’t change yourself too much. i know exactly what i sighed up for, and i don’t plan on backing out.”

bob nestled himself against you again, pulling you closer until you were in his lap. he just clung to you. his breathing eased, his heart slowed. he pushed the hair from your face and you kissed his wrists. he tensed, eyes softening further. you placed light kisses up his bare arms, covering every single scar of his past with something gentle and full of love. bob had closed his eyes, relaxed, taking deep breaths, “please don’t go anywhere.” you weren’t sure if he met right now, tonight, or forever. either way… “i’m not.”

you woke tangled in sheets, bob’s arm draped around you, heavy and secure. safe. you rolled to face him. you opened your eyes and bit back a gasp. his eyes were open, glowing gold. “good morning, my beautiful girl.” sentry. “good morning…..” this was much preferable to the other one. he smiled softly as he pulled you against him with soft, passionate kisses. you preferred this greatly over the other one. and yet… “are you feeling okay?” he hummed against your lips, starting to trail down your neck. “i’m amazing, sweetheart.” “o-okayyyy- good.. that’s good…” somehow this felt wrong. it felt like taking advantage. “are you feeling alright?” you nodded slightly, shifting away from his lips just slightly, “i’m- i’m..yeah?” he stopped, shifting to look at you. “you’re worried about him. he’s fine. he’s…happy. he still has control.” you exhaled slightly in relief; you forgot he could read your thoughts. “he’s happy. with you. thinks he’ll never deserve you.” oh don’t even start. “and you?” “i think you should be lucky to have us.” you rolled your eyes slightly. bob could come back anytime, now… “but you’re good for him. he could do much worse.” oh. well good. thanks….. he smirked slightly, almost in amusement, “you’re welcome.”

that damn mind reading…

bob did not returned all day. sentry had followed you around all day and made simple tasks impossible. if you weren’t giving him enough attention- or your full attention- he would pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, sure, then, you were paying attention. the others were tired of him long before you were. they couldn’t make jokes about you without earning a threat. they could barely have a full conversation with you before sentry was glaring at them, feeling jealous. for someone so powerful and full of himself, he sure didn’t act like it. you were trying to make lunch- for you and him- and he appeared at your side asking who the other sandwich was for. “you, obviously. can’t let my boyfriend starve…” he hummed slightly, kissing your shoulder, “i appreciate it.” sentry never fully said thank you, but he almost came close when it was directed at you.

sentry was…charming– in a twisted, egotistical way. he was dizzying, really. throwing you over his shoulder and picking you up as if you weighed nothing. the way he gently touched you as if he wasn’t capable of breaking the whole world. the way he would kiss you, lifting you both off the ground slightly, holding you like you might break apart if he didnt.

you were making dinner. john was helping, stirring the home made sauce you had made, while you sprinkled the freshly baked, freshly oiled bread with garlic and italian seasonings. “i used to always cook for my wife. every night.” you watched him, taking in his nostalgic expression, “that’s sweet…” “her favorite was my chicken parmesan. and saturday my morning waffles.” his smile slipped, a sadness reflecting behind his eyes. you didn’t know what to say to him. you had never lost anyone you loved like that– the person you intended to spend the rest of your life with. you couldn’t imagine it, really, losing bob because of your own actions. “well… if you want i can tell yelena and she’ll demand you make us waffles every saturday.” john laughed lightly at that, knowing yelena would likely force him. he shook his head, eyes returning to the pan, “some traditions, i think… are made to be broken.” you looked at him sadly, “i’m sorry.” you squeezed his hand gently, offering him a sad smile.

behind you, a glass shattered. john had stepped away from you, eyes widening. you didn’t need to turn around to know why. you closed your eyes, exhaled slowly, preparing yourself to deal with the egotistical superhuman standing directly behind you. “yes?” you turned around, eyebrows lifted slightly, trying very hard not to sound irritated. “i don’t want you talking to him.” behind you, john rolled his eyes. “oh? is that so?” your voice was sarcastic, “are you jealous, sentry?” he looked at you coolly, eyes flashing black for just a moment. you didn’t flinch, not wanting to tempt the other one out by showing fear. “i am not jealous.” you smirked slightly, “oh, yes, i believe you. it’s just that you’re acting like it, is all.” he eyed you in annoyance, crossing his arms. “i do not get jealous of insignificant humans.” “harsh…” john muttered, returning to the stove in silence. “no, i get that. it’s just you somehow made yourself about two inches taller, your fists are clenched so tightly that your knuckles are white and your jaw is so tight i’m surprised you haven’t broken any teeth.” “are you tired of me?” you huffed slightly, “no… i’m not. i just—“ could use a break from this particular side of your boyfriend. “are you…tense? or stressed?” he nestled into your neck, arms wrapping around you. “no! i’m not… i mean- i- yes, i am. but… not- not you… i- it’s- you aren’t-“ he yielded the kisses running up your neck. john was very interested in the garlic bread now, eyeing it as if it was about to tell him all the mysteries of the entire world. you would have laughed under any other circumstance.

“do i make you nervous?”

“slightly.”

“are you scared of me?”

“no…”

only of the other one.

sentry exhaled, turning you to face him. he tilted his head slightly, thinking, eyes darting slightly as he processed, “you miss him.” “yes.” you looked away from him. “it has only been twelve hours.” “then, i guess it takes less than that for me to miss him.”

sentry moved towards you and was suddenly pressed against your chest. your stomach flipped, your heart skipped a few beats and you hated yourself for it. another smirk, “don’t feel bad. it’s still…him.” you held your breath as he traced your jawline, leaning in. “i’m still him.”

“you aren’t him.” he still looked like bob, just a few inches taller. he still talked like bob and felt like bob. you felt your knees grow weak as he kissed his way up to your lips. you felt guilty. it was still dizzying, confusing. it was off… it felt wrong. he kissed like bob…almost. but sentry didn’t tangle his fingers in your hair, or tilt his head to the left- just slightly, the way bob always did. he didn’t kiss you desperately and messily, like you were the oxygen he lived on. you took a step back, gasping slightly. sentry almost looked hurt- or maybe it was bob. you nearly stumbled over as you turned away and briskly started walking.

sentry trailed behind you as you headed for your room, “why don’t you treat me like him?” you sighed as you pulled one of bob’s shirts out of the closet. he cleared his throat, “why do you treat us differently?” you pulled your shirt off, ignoring how he was watching your every move, “because you aren’t him.” “i�� i am part of him. the…opposite of the other one.” you felt dizzy. sentry was- technically- bob. but it felt wrong. you lifted your arms slightly, pulling bob’s shirt over your head. sentry grabbed your arms, hands sliding up to your wrists, pinning your wrists to the wall above your head. all the air left your lungs as your back hit the wall. “look at me…” his voice was gentle, “you know me.” you shook your head only slightly, holding your breath as he leaned in. his eyes were still gold, he still didn’t tilt his head when he kissed you. “why are you fighting this so hard?” “i— you…” “i still love you. just like he does.” you closed your eyes as he tantalizingly trailed kisses from your jaw to your collarbone. he pushed the shirt aside; it still hung uselessly around your neck, not getting the chance to put it on fully. “stop…” you don’t think you meant it. he smirked against your skin, “i’ll stop if you can say that and mean it.” you cursed quietly, “let him go… if he’s still in control, stop teasing me.” another smirk, burying his face in your neck. he exhaled just against your ear, “please… mean it.” “i… can’t.” maybe he was bob. a different version of him. but after last night you didn’t care. you had to make sure he was alright. you had to make sure this wasn’t a small part of him that wasn’t completely right in the head yet.

“the other two never say please, you know…” the voice was softer, slightly amused. your hands slid down the wall a few inches, fingers climbing down your arms, up your neck, tangling in your hair. his head tilted slightly to the left, before pulling you in by the back of your head. his lips found yours, crashing into you like a storm. “it’s you.” you exhaled, opening your eyes to meet the same blue ones you always got lost in. “it’s me.” bob kissed you again, fingers playing gloriously with your hair. he only pulled away when he was out of breath and breathing heavily. “sorry about him… he’s got a bit of an ego thing…” you laughed lightly, rolling your eyes, “please never leave me alone with him all day, ever again.” bob smirked, “never… i hate sharing you.”

bob sat on the bed, holding your pillow against his chest, watching as you finished pulling his shirt on and found a pair of his sweatpants. he was looking at you starry eyed, as if it was the first time seeing you undress before. “could we…maybe just eat in here?” he was still eyeing you, eyes hungry but smiling shyly. “i suppose that could be arranged…” you smiled playfully, climbing onto the bed behind him. you wrapped your arms around him and rested your head on his shoulder, “i missed you.” he took a deep breath, never getting used to the way you held him like he was the most important thing in the world. “i’m sorry… i don’t know what happened… i remember kissing you and…..” his eyes dropped to his wrist, “and then falling asleep…” you frowned, “are you okay? after….?” you didn’t even want to say it. he nodded once, stiffly, “i’m…” he stopped, shoulders tensing, taking a deep breath, “i’m…better.. i… i’m sorry for—“ “don’t.” you wrapped your arms around him tighter and rubbed his chest. you could feel his heart pounding under your palm. “we don’t have to talk about it.” you would rather not remembered it at all. “i’m sorry. i never wanted–“ you shook your head and shushed him gently, “stop, baby… it wasn’t your fault.” bob exhaled shakily and nodded once.

“do you want to eat? i made pasta. john helped…” he tilted his head to look at you, eyes looking hopeful, “mac and cheese?” you smiled to yourself, “i can make mac and cheese for you tomorrow? i didn’t think sentry deserved it. he probably wouldn’t have thought it was good enough for him.” bob laughed softly, “that’s guy’s a jerk. i kind of hate him…” you kissed his hair once before standing, “that guy is part of you. i could never hate him.” he looked at you shyly, “do you need help carrying anything?” you shrugged, “i’ll be okay. but the others might be glad to know you’re back. they were kind of scarce all day.” bob’s mouth twitched into a smile, “i should probably apologize to walker…” you held back a laugh, “one of the only times you stood up to him and it wasn’t even needed.”

bob grabbed the bottom of your shirt and trailed behind you, now feeling embarrassed at how the other part of him had acted. “do you think they’ll be mad?” “no, bob.. no one got hurt and they know you’re still learning to control..them.” he sighed, hiding behind you just slightly as you entered the kitchen. “we were beginning to wonder if the gold one had finally convinced you to–“ walker laughed as he looked up from his plate and noticed bob. “oh hey, bob, glad to have you back.” bob blushed slightly, “hey guys…” the table lit up almost instantly and you felt your heart swell. everyone here loved him and clearly missed his daily ramblings and random facts. bob smiled slightly, “do you still want to eat in our room?” he shook his head, taking the seat between you and yelena. bucky and walker served everyone, complimenting you multiple times on how good it was- and how great it smelled. you turned slightly red, not liking being the center of attention, “walker helped…” it came out quietly, trying to push the attention off you. “i stirred the sauce and put olive oil on the bread…” bob was looking over at you with pink cheeks and an adoring expression. he would never tell you, out of fear of being glared at, but you were utterly adorable when you were shy and embarrassed.

alexei had cleared his plate before bucky had even sat down. “more?” he looked up at bucky eagerly. bucky stared at him, blinking once, monotone expression. “dad…” yelena scolded, leaning across the table, “is something wrong with your legs? and your manners?” she lowered her voice slightly at this but you heard it. you bit back an amused smile, watching as alexei’s eyes widened slightly. he wiped the pasta sauce off his mouth- with his hand- and then- unnecessarily- bowed slightly to you. “apologies. it was very good.” ava coughed quietly, failing to hide her laughter. there were no leftovers, and this may have been the first family dinner that hadn’t involved something burning, a stupid argument, stupid dad jokes, or someone getting punched. finally, your dysfunctional group of housemates were beginning to act like a family. “this was so good,” yelena kissed your cheek lightly as she set her plate in the sink. she eyed you cautiously, searching your face, looking over you with a scrutinizing expression, “we are going for ice cream, does anyone want anything?” bob’s head snapped up, looking anxious at first. he really didn’t like not being with you. ever. but especially at night, especially if you were walking around in the city. “i- um… i’ll have… uh-“ he couldn’t remember what kind of ice cream was his favorite, “just- just surprise me…” he ducked his head, focused on the half eaten empty in front of him.

“are you going to finish that?” alexei pointed to his plate and bob slid it towards him with a shake of his head. alexei dove into it, yelling as he chewed, “blue moon for me!” yelena rolled her eyes, shaking her head slightly at his lack of manners and inside voice. bucky looked at you both, eyeing you suspiciously, “i’ll come with you.” he was the overprotective older brother, always. he didn’t trust the city at night and he certainly didn’t trust the people in it. “ava will come!” yelena gave him a reassuring smile, but bucky looked doubtful. he narrowed his eyes slightly, looking to you, the same expression yelena had given you.

you expected bucky to say something about how exhausted you looked, how you looked thinner and more pale. he was thinking all those things, but instead all he said was, “rocky road.” ava looked up from her phone like a startled deer, “i- i will?” yelena gave her a look and she jumped to her feet, “i will, yes. obviously… for- for ice cream.” walker looked at her with a concerned and confused expression, “can i have mint?”

“you don’t have to ask, john. you are full grown man, you’re allowed to have ice cream this late.” john looked awkward now, embarrassed, not quite meaning it like he was asking permission. you almost laughed until you saw your boyfriend’s sulking, defeated posture. “well, if ava doesn’t want to go—“ “no.” yelena cut you off as she stuffed a taser into her jacket pocket, “ava does.” ava really didn’t…

“bob?” you eyed him as ava went to grab a jacket and yelena waited by the elevator. “you okay?” bob nodded, trying to give you a reassuring smile, “i’m fine- i’ll be fine- i’ll do the dishes…” bucky eyed you carefully, turning his attention to bob, “i’ll watch him…” he said it quietly so only you heard it. bucky was familiar with bob’s up and downs. and he knew how dangerous they could be. you gave him a grateful smile and joined yelena and ava in the elevator. the elevator dinged and as soon as the door closed, yelena turned to you. she had grabbed a bag of chips since leaving the kitchen, “okay, talk to me.” “tal— i- what?” ava looked at her, crossing her arms, now understanding this was some sort of intervention. “don’t play dumb.” she stuck another chip in her mouth, “you look look like hell. have you been sleeping at all?” ouch. you couldn’t say she wasn’t honest. “i… i’ve been sleeping fine.” ava looked at you now, “no, she’s right. you look completely exhaused. have you lost weight?” you sighed, eyes on the closed elevator doors like it was their fault, “thank you for noticing.” you deadpanned it, not at all wanting to be talking about this.

yelena turned and punched the stop button on the elevator. you groaned as it jolted to a stop; she was giving you no choice. “did something happen? do you need help?” “i— no, yelena. i’m fine. i appreciate it, really, but i’ve got it…” ava scanned your face, eyes narrowing slightly. she knew you too well, as much as you hated to admit it, “is it bob?” you tensed as she said his name and cursed yourself for it. yelena’s eyes snapped up and she took a step towards you. “did something happen? did he do something? are you okay?” you exhaled deeply, wanting to cry. “he didn’t do anything… i just—“ yelena cut you off, “you spread yourself too thin.” you looked at her with blurred vision, “if you don’t put yourself first you will have absolutely nothing left.”

“i’m fine.” you said it with a final emphasis, tone getting sharper and more insistent. “i know you love him, but-“ “no, ava… there’s no but.” she looked at you sadly, “i know you love him. but. you can’t take care of him if you completely run yourself to the ground. bob would hate himself if he knew what you were doing-“ ava held a finger up as you opened your mouth to argue, “i am not saying break up with him. i am not saying to push him away. i’m just saying..be cautious. you’re giving him everything but it’s costing you.” you couldn’t completely argue, but you also knew you couldn’t stop. “when was the last time you slept?” yelena let the elevator move again; now her tone was soft and full of concern. “i… i slept last night.” they both raised an eyebrow at you, “and you went to bed at a healthy time?” “you just asked if i slept.” yelena glared at you: it was a scolding expression that reminded you of your sister. “i…” they were both looking at you with concern, like they were worried about you, like they really cared.

you closed your eyes again tightly, “there was an incident.” yelena held her breath, eyes growing wider. “he…. kind of lost control. the..other one.. got out.” ava gasped slightly, trying to cover it with her hand, “are you okay?” “i’m- yes.. mostly. bob pulled himself out of it, but—“ “you saw your sister.” yelena sounded far away. she knew what it felt like, to lose your sister. she was thankful she hadn’t watched it happen. or caused it… “not exactly… i saw flashes, but-“ you fought the tears that were starting to fall, “they weren’t my memories.” ava paused, “what do you mean they weren’t your memories?” yelena leaned in, expression dark, eager, anxious. “they were his.” they both inhaled sharply, their anxious expression turned to sorrow. “they felt worse than mine. maybe because it was bob, but…” you shook your head, “the void used bob to get to me. he used me to punish himself…” “punish himself? i don’t see the void doing anything to-“ you shook your head, now failing completely to hold back the tears, “not the void. bob…”

the elevator doors opened but no one moved. “bob blamed himself… he blamed himself for hurting me and- showing me… he- he locked himself in our room, and… by the time i got him to open the door, he had—“ yelena pulled you into a hug, squeezing you tightly. you didn’t have to finish. “why didn’t you tell us?” ava squeezed your hand. “i didn’t- i don’t want you to treat him differently. it wasn’t his fault.” your voice was pleading, “he- he can’t always control it. he can’t always force them down… he didn’t mean to.” ava and yelena looked at each other, they were obviously worried but they also understood. “he needs me. i don’t care if it drains me completely. i don’t want to lose him… i can’t. he’s… he’s everything to me…” yelena sighed, “it wasn’t his fault. but he could still kill you. the other one…” you shook your head, “he wouldn’t. he’s never-“ you we’re going to say the other one had never put a hand on you, but it wasn’t true. “he wouldn’t. bob won’t ever lose control like that. not if it’s me…” he couldn’t. he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if…

they both put an arm around you as they helped you out of the elevator. you were shaking slightly now, trying to get force yourself to stop crying. “he’s not a monster.” you had almost whispered it, “he’s trying so hard. to be better… to…” you finally looked up, finally getting the tears to ease, “please don’t treat him differently. he didn’t want me to find out. he…” they both just nodded, eyeing you sadly.

the elevator dinged and bob looked up eagerly as the three of you stepped into the common room. each of you had your arms full of ice cream tubs. the others had expected individual cups or cones and looked at you in disbelief. “they had a sale.” she set the tubs down on the table, trying not to disrupt the very serious game of monopoly going on. “who is winning?” you plopped down on the couch beside bob and wrapped your arms around him. “not me.” bucky glared at the board, sulking slightly. “i think your boyfriend cheats.” walker pouted, digging into his tub of ice cream, clearly not carrying if anyone else wanted mint. you smirked slightly, looking down at bob proudly. he just shrugged, innocent smile on his lips. you kissed him quickly, smiling against his lips. yelena gave you both a sad glance, but neither of you noticed. “i got us strawberry. and cookie dough. it’s my favorite too…” bob smiled at you, not recalling a single time in his life when anyone had ever remembered any small, insignificant detail about him. but you had. you remembered his favorite ice cream flavors, even when he couldn’t. and you had brought him both of them, not just one. “i love you.” he whispered it against your ear as he buried himself against your neck. you kissed his head as he opened the cookie dough tub, smiling against his hair. earlier’s conversation had been forgotten. the horrors of the past few days shoved down deep to just enjoy this moment. a quiet moment with him, surrounded by the others, eating out of ice cream tubs by the spoonful, watching walker and bucky argue over monopoly. bob had completely forgotten about the game as he nestled himself against you. two spoons stuck out of the strawberry ice cream and everything was perfect.

*******

a/n: and yall thought i wouldnt let bob have a happy ending. i don’t think i could physically do that to him. this part 2 of a series, but you dont have to read the first one to understand what’s going on! (please read the first one im obsessed) there will be a part 3!

[abbyfmc]

Yandere story idea #41:

The yandere king of an enemy kingdom invades yours after you refused to marry him. He killed your king husband and hoped that you would surrender, but… how would the enemy yandere king react when he sees you fiercely leading your army and fighting hard for the stability of your kingdom?

I've never seen a story where a queen is like this in front of a yandere king, since most of them were set in medieval times, where women were expected to be docile and submissive (although there are strong female figures from that time who managed to stand out). The yandere king in most of these stories does what he wants with his queen or his love, and this one, although sometimes written as a queen who wants to protest, always ends up being controlled by the yandere. I've never seen a story of a yandere king where the queen is quite strong and difficult to defeat; but here the case is different. The enemy yandere king discovers that his love is even stronger than his enemy, and she will not give in.

[toudan]

The Hand That Feeds

“If being with me only brings you pain, then just put up with this for three more days.” Or, the stages you go through during those three days.

PAIRING.⠀Xia Yizhou | Caleb x Reader

CONTENT.⠀female reader | spoilers for Caleb's story | angst, brief manipulation, drugging is briefly mentioned, implied toxic behaviour (per canon), medical issues (source: i made it up), mental instability, mentions of blood and violence, mentions of suicide and self-sabotage, splitting (reader has BPD), unreliable narrator. | ~6,8k words

A/N.⠀sooooooooo I've been playing Love and Deepspace..... the brainrot got so bad I've written over five thousand words in two days. this is a bit more of an exploration on the emotional/psychological end, so I'm sorry about the lack of romance!

available on AO3 | reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

1. DENIAL

Caleb never breaks his promises.

It’s been that way since you were little kids. In thunderstorms, he promised to keep you safe, and he did. On gloomy days, he promised to be your light, and he did. In the rain, he promised to shield you, and he did. He never lies. He always picks up the phone. He never misses any important dates. He always catches you and never lets you fall. That was the Caleb you knew years ago.

Now, he’s much more different than the scrappy young boy with missing teeth and plasters on his skin that he used to be. This Caleb is tall, imposing, domineering. His uniform puts emphasis on his coldness. He is the embodiment of power, but just like he promised you when you were ten, he’d use his power to protect you. You’d trust him with your life, because deep down, you know that he won’t make you regret it.

You’re more than capable of protecting yourself. Years of training at the academy and another handful of years as a hunter has shaped you to be your own defence. Calluses and scars litter your skin, painting them with texture and molding you into a unique sculpture. With each year that passes, you grow out of the same scared little girl you used to be, but you can never get rid of fear completely. Loud noises still send you jumping out of your skin. You still fear death no matter how familiar it’s become. You worry about growing old and fading out of existence, leaving behind vulnerable people who’ll lose you for good.

The past years have not been kind. Fate has put you in all sorts of situations to test your might and willpower, forcing you to be the fearless woman you were meant to be. You’ve passed turbulent times, cried alone as your mind tells you you’re going insane. You’ve stayed at home for days, hiding away from the rest of the world as you contemplate your self-worth and utility. It drains you, bleeds you dry, but for you, there is no time to rest. Life goes on. You must always keep moving no matter how wounded you become.

With Caleb, it doesn’t feel like it has to be that way.

He’s always taken care of you very well, making sure you get enough rest and remember to eat no matter how stressed you become, but things aren’t the same. You’ve grown and so has he. And yet, he’s still the very same boy you grew up with—one who cares for you, one who loves you for you, and one who’ll always have your back. You’re not familiar with giving yourself a break, having been living in a routine of discipline for over a decade of your life, but you find that it’s a nice change. It’s the instrumental break of a song, it’s the beach on a sunny day. It’s gentle breezes caressing your skin and it’s layers of padlocks broken, letting you out of the cage you’ve built for yourself.

For once, you can let yourself relax and be taken care of the way you’ve always been. But as the storm rages on, it all comes crashing down, and you find yourself falling apart.

The anxiety that had come with your initial arrival at Skyhaven never left. It simmers at the pit of your stomach, creeps into your veins and wraps its tendrils around you, dragging you into a cold abyss of apprehension and fear. Being away from Linkon City isn’t doing you any favours. You don’t know anyone here aside from Caleb. There isn’t a place to go or people to talk to. The likelihood of you being in danger is low, but it’s not impossible, and the storm outside does nothing to help your current state. The power has gone out, leaving you in a wide, dark and empty complex where the only illumination comes from the lights on the skyline. 

The recent events are still heavy on your mind, too. Of him tending to the gash on your leg, of him restraining you with his Evol. You don’t think you’ve been that scared since that day in the interrogation room. You remember it vividly: the dimness of that room, the collar he’d placed upon your neck, or the tension in the air while you struggled to get yourself back to reality. It felt like you were in a dream. But then the lights came on and he spoke, and he was no longer the Farspace Fleet Colonel—he was your Caleb.

Your nails have become brittle from how much you’ve been biting on them. You’ve been pacing around the place, trying to call him time and time again only to get no response. With a frustrated sob, you toss your phone onto the sofa and collapse to your knees, tears streaming down your face in rivulets. As much as you’d like to believe that you aren’t afraid of thunder anymore, tonight proves it all wrong.

All you can hear is the downpour outside. It muffles the sound of the clock ticking, yet it doesn’t tune out the worried voices in your head. It’s nearing midnight—way past your bedtime—but you can’t sleep, not even with the potential ambience of the rain. Your thoughts are racing a mile a minute. Though Caleb usually comes home while you’re asleep, being wide awake now also means you’re too aware—aware that he isn’t home, aware that he’s in danger, aware that he might not ever come home at all. Your phone is nearly dead and the candles have long since gone out. You’re trembling both from fear and frost, his sweater loosely hanging on your frame.

The words ‘lockdown’ and ‘cleanup’ grow more and more distant as the irrational thoughts strengthen in numbers. They say he’s doing this on purpose, that he’s abandoning you for good because of you, that he’s keeping so many things hidden from you because he wants you out of his life. You want to believe they aren’t true, you really do, but your fragility makes you waver in every decision. The urge for violence grows but you do your best to keep yourself grounded, rocking yourself back and forth as your body is wracked by sobs. It’s easier said than done. You don’t know how you can stay afloat when you feel so alone.

Cruel. He’s cruel for leaving you alone for this long. He’s cruel for not responding to you. If he truly cared for you, he wouldn’t make you feel this way. Fear blends into anger as your hands twitch and quiver while you heavily breathe in and out as an attempt to calm down. He promised you this morning that he’ll come home. You just need to trust him. But you’re so scared of everything, feeling like the world is caving in around you as you fall deeper and deeper into the void. The dark makes you feel isolated, suffocated. Briefly, you think of how no one will hear you if you scream in this weather. Not even he can save you. Maybe that’ll be the first and last time he breaks his promise.

You shake your head. You know better than to trust your emotions when the sky gets dark. This will pass, it always does, and Caleb would want you to be strong. With newfound determination, you harshly wipe away your tears with the back of your hand and get up. Your legs slightly wobble from the ache in your knees, but you keep upright. As if sensing your predicament, the rain outside slows down and becomes quieter with each second. The thunder has stopped roaring and the downpour slows to a light shower, its droplets hitting the clear glass of the window panes.

Then, the front door opens. A scream threatens to escape your throat. The emergency lights in the hallway outside show a male silhouette at the door, and when you realise who it is, the grave weight on your shoulders is lifted. Relieved, you run into him, making him stumble for a moment before supporting you more steadily. You wrap your arms around his neck and cry, quiet whines leaving you. He pulls you close and rubs soothing circles on your back before murmuring a quiet I’m home into your ear.

How could you doubt him like that? Caleb is kind. He’s the best thing to ever happen to you. He never breaks his promises. Whatever anger you harboured for him earlier dissipates into the air just like fog. Still shaken from the blackout and his radio silence, you grab him tightly, the fabric of his coat bunching up in your unrelenting grip. You don’t know what’s wrong with you tonight. You were doing perfectly fine before the storm. You’re mentally berating yourself for letting him see you in such a pathetic state, but you’re too drained and it’s too late to try to hide.

(You’ve never been able to do that with him.)

“I thought you left me,” you whimper, “I—I don’t feel good. I don’t know. I was scared.”

You cling to him like a child. You feel like one, with how weak and emotional and volatile you feel. The sobs slow down into sniffles as he carries you over to your bedroom before taking a seat on the bed and placing you on his lap. His gloved hands comfortingly caress you wherever they can. Guilt sinks into his bones, pulling him deeper than his gravity ever could. The explosion had been out of his control, so had his death, but he can’t ever forgive himself for making you feel like you’d been left behind.

An ugly emotion rears its head, holds him in its jaws. He wraps his arms around you possessively, allowing you to calm down at your pace. You let out a heavy sigh and fall into him, feeling boneless after the meltdown you were in earlier. There are many things you want to say, but none ever slip your tongue. Instead, you let him hold you, let him press soft kisses to your hair, enveloping you in the warmth you had been craving.

“I told you I’d always be by your side,” he finally speaks up after a moment of silence, squeezing your flesh warmly. “I promised you that, remember?”

You don’t make a sound. You shift closer to him, desperate to be closer, close enough to feel like you’ve fused into one. He doesn’t force you to speak. You look up at him, tear-stained cheeks glimmering under the moonlight, helpless and afraid yet so loving and elated. He shushes you softly, lulling you into a relaxed state as he wipes away your tears with his thumbs before cupping the side of your face affectionately. 

I’ll always be by your side.

How silly and humiliating of you to have been vulnerable like that. Caleb would never lie to you. He’s right, he always is, and you need to learn to fully trust him again. He never breaks his promises. He won’t start now.

2. ANGER

It started with an excruciating pain in your heart.

Then, it continued with pins and needles striking your limbs, making them feel boneless. Your view blurred and darkened at the sides as static took over your vision, showing you mirrors and streaks of light. Your throat closed up and you clutched at it helplessly, jaw dropping open as you tried to breathe. The world spun and suddenly you collapsed on the ground, motionless and afraid. Waves of panic crashed into you, drenching you in trepidation while your thoughts ran rampant, stacking on top of each other like voices in a crowd.

You hardly registered the muffled shouts and your body being moved as you fell limp. Your head was spinning and you felt like you were falling into coldness—into death—but when you woke up, you found yourself in the medical bay of the Fleet’s aircraft. 

The pain in your heart had subsided enough. It still ached and burned, but clarity had returned to your eyes and your limbs no longer felt numb. Your eyelids fluttered open, revealing the fluorescent lights in the ceiling, and it was only then that you heard muted conversations, presumably from those who were taking care of you. You tried to push yourself up, only to be pulled back by something. When you looked down, you found all sorts of cables attached to you and an EKG monitor on your side. Your heart rate was fast and your blood pressure was high. Caleb had come into the medical bay not long after that.

After dismissing the nurses, he’d taken you to his home and decided he’d take care of you himself. Though you weren’t keen on essentially being on house arrest, there was no point in arguing with him. Even if you doubted him sometimes, you knew in your heart that he would never lead you astray. But the way he’s been treating you like a child irks and suffocates you, making you feel like you’re locked in a cramped room.

He talks to you softly and treats you like you’re fragile. You’re several years into your career as a hunter. You’re well in your twenties and more than capable of taking care of yourself or tending to your wounds. As much as you appreciate his concern, it’s starting to feel suffocating. Maybe years of depending on him have made him think you’re useless. He won’t trust you, but he still holds many secrets of his own.

The only conclusion you come to is that he’s hiding something from you, or he’s hiding you.

It doesn’t make sense. Nothing does. How can someone so familiar feel so distant at the same time? You can’t understand his logic or tell what he’s thinking. He always has an explanation for everything, and yet, they never satisfy you at all. The weariness in your system coupled with days of being under quarantine is taking a toll on you. He’d insisted persistently that you stay put while he takes care of everything. It’s not as if it’s his fault, either. No matter how much you want to get back to work—thinking about the backlog you’re going to have to catch up to puts insurmountable anxiety upon your shoulders—you can’t, because your body isn’t cooperating.

It’s not a fever. It’s not a cold. But somehow, you always feel so out of it. It doesn’t even feel like you’re piloting yourself anymore. Suspicion rises in the back of your mind as you think of the medication you’ve been taking every morning. He never told you what they are. What if he’s—

No. He wouldn’t. Caleb isn’t like that.

But what if? You don’t understand him. You don’t know him anymore. Why is he hellbent on keeping you locked up here when you’re already capable of handling things on your own? Burying your face in your hands, you let out a scream of exasperation, feeling as though you’re losing your mind. Why won’t he listen to you? Do you mean anything to him at all?

The door knob twists. You swiftly relax your furrowed brows and turn to him with a small smile as he enters your room. The sun is barely rising, but he already looks wide awake. You can’t help but narrow your eyes suspiciously at the small cup of pills that he’s holding.

The question slips past your tongue before you realise it. “What have you been giving me?”

Caleb stops in his tracks, brows raised in surprise. Something flickers in his eyes, but the calm expression remains on his features. He moves closer and places what he’s holding on the table, only to pause in his movements again.

“You didn’t finish dinner?”

“Caleb. What have you been giving me?” you ask again, your hands beginning to tremble. Your thoughts are running rapidly, alarms of urgency ringing in your head and adding on to your anxiety. You need answers. You need to know everything.

He takes a seat on the stool next to your bed with a sigh. “I’m hurt you don’t trust me, pipsqueak.”

“Then what’s wrong with me?” You clench your fists, knuckles turning white from the pressure you’re exerting. “Why won’t you let me go?”

“You had a protocore-induced heart attack. Your body is still recovering,” he replies easily. You can’t tell if he’s lying or telling the truth. “And Skyhaven’s still under lockdown. It’s not safe for you to be out.”

“Do you think of me that lowly?” Aggravation drips off of your tone as your voice starts to waver, a familiar sting spreading behind your nose and tears springing up to your eyes. “Do you think I’m still a little kid?”

“It’s not that. I’m just worried about you.”

Your voice rises in volume. It’s getting harder to keep your anger in control. 

“If Skyhaven’s so dangerous, why won’t you let me go back?”

“Because you can’t. No one goes in or goes out during this lockdown. I’m sorry,” he says. It’s quick and meant to shoot you down. You want to scream, to break something, anything, but you can’t. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. I’m protecting you.”

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, irritated at his responses. There’s no point in arguing with him, you realise. Caleb’s stubbornness knows no bounds at times. You take your hand back and look away with an indignant huff. You know you’re acting like a child. Grandma would be disappointed if she saw your state now. But you’re frustrated, you’re anxious, you’re alone and you just want to go home—

“Leave. I don’t wanna see you,” you spit, stubbornly staring at the window. Then, an unknown fear seeps into your veins, causing you to soften just the slightest. “I don’t want us to fight, Caleb.”

“We’re not fighting.” He crouches down in front of you and takes your hand into his before giving it a warm squeeze. “But you have to try and understand me.”

You don’t want to. You don’t want to see his face, don’t want to hear his voice, don’t want anything to do with him. Ignoring him, you get up the chair and return to your room, closing the door behind you with a loud slam. The sound makes you flinch. Unwanted memories slowly fade into the reel of your mind. Aggravated, you lock the door and sit down, pulling your knees close to your chest as your jaw clenches.

You don’t know what you want. A part of you wants him to come in and apologise, to let you do what you want. Another part of you wants him to just leave you alone. But when there’s only silence, you find yourself breaking into sobs again, feeling like you’ve been abandoned. He’s mad at you. He’s going to make you leave and say that he’s just giving you what you wanted. Guilt creeps into your heart as the realisation that you’re doubting him dawns on you. He’s been so kind to you since the little stunt you pulled to get yourself here. He’s letting you walk freely. He’s letting you stay in his home. 

But he’s not listening to you, he’s ignoring you, and it makes you feel as though you’re just a speck of dust in his eyes. Your emotions rage as a tempest in your mind that destroys everything in its wake. A scream of exasperation leaves your lips as you hold your head in your hands, trying to catch your breath. 

I’ll always be by your side.

What a liar. 

3. BARGAINING

It feels as though the sands of time are allowing the particles to fall one at a time into the bottom of the hourglass.

Time is moving slowly, almost as if it’s stuck in place, and hearing the sound of the clock ticking every time you’re ‘home’ is starting to drive you mad. It’s hard not to zero in on Caleb when he is all you have here. You’ve contemplated sending Tara and Zayne some messages to let them know that you’re fine, just staying with a friend. For some odd reason, the messages never get delivered. Assuming your phone’s just broken, you haven’t picked it up since. As a result, there’s not much to do in your free time outside of chores or breaking down, and it’s tearing you apart.

Maybe he’ll rethink his choices if you get hurt on purpose, you think with a bitter grimace. It’s hard to believe that his consideration for you, something you used to adore, now felt like chains holding you down. He might as well have left the collar on your neck. Anger, betrayal, guilt, and shame. Your mind has become a tempest of despondence and pessimism destroying every rational thought in its path. You want to scream and punch the wall. You want to hurt something. You need to destroy something. Your self-control is hanging by a thread and the stubbornness is beginning to feel childish, silly. 

Regrettably, Caleb is right. The Farspace Fleet is still working on cleanup amid this lockdown, not allowing anyone to go in or out. Leaving Skyhaven isn’t an option anymore. You don’t know what you feel anymore, either. You’re stuck here with a curfew whether you like it or not, and your unfamiliarity with the place leaves you at a severe disadvantage. Though you’re not exactly a drinker, your mind wanders to how you’d feel if you were too drunk to think of anything. You don’t care. You don’t know what you want anymore.

Some days, you feel angry at him and think he’s the devil. Some days, you appreciate him and think he’s a gift sent by the heavens. The lack of a middle ground constantly leaves you teetering on the verge of falling on either end. But now—now you feel nothing at all. You’re numb, indifferent, and it perplexes you because you still feel so bad. You think you’re a walking contradiction or a ticking time bomb ready to explode. Caleb has dealt with you for years without a single word of complaint. You’re taking him for granted, says the voice in your head. You need to keep him.

You harshly slap yourself on the face to snap out of it, bringing yourself back to the present.

The skyline glimmers in the distance. Red and white lights speed by on the road and the billboards are as lively as ever. Nightlife enjoyers are undoubtedly in good spirits as they travel from bar to bar. Tara must still be awake watching her favourite show, and Zayne is surely still working late at the hospital. You want to hear their voices and be in their presence even if it’s just for a few minutes. There’s a weight pulling at your heart as your mind wanders to Linkon City. To your real home.

The walls of what you thought was a gorgeous home is starting to remind you of the interrogation room you were in. It feels drab, lifeless. There isn’t much evidence within the home itself that there are people living here in the first place. The little OTTO robot he built for you stays in the corner, lifeless as well. You absentmindedly tap your fingers against the surface of the couch as you stare into the glow of the television. Even the commercials that are meant to be fun and exciting feel fake. The programme continues, returning to the scheduled film of the night. 

It’s late at night and you can’t sleep. You’re up later than you’d usually be. Caleb isn’t home yet, rendering you beyond aware of the fact that you’re home alone, and anxiety lurks around you at every corner. Your pistols rest on the spot beside you as a precaution. With what has been transpiring since you stepped foot in Skyhaven, anything is possible. It’s strange how paranoid you’ve become over the past couple of days. You should feel safe here, you should feel safe with him being the Colonel himself, but you don’t.

“—concerned about you. He said he thinks you might try to kill yourself.”

Your gaze drifts over to the pistols. An image of your blood pooling beneath your head as you lie limp on the ground flashes before your eyes. You imagine how he’d react to your death. Will he care? Will it devastate him? Will he regret how he’s been treating you? Strangely enough, the gruesome thought doesn’t bother you as much as it used to when you were younger. Violence comes with your job as a hunter, even if it’s not inflicted upon humans. Death is no stranger. It’s more familiar than you’d like it to be. You’ve been lured by it a couple of times in your childhood, seen mangled bodies and frozen corpses in your lifetime. 

You’ve gone from craving death to being afraid of it, and yet here you are, contemplating it just like you did when you were fifteen.

Tara used to tell you not to believe your thoughts when it’s dark. You desperately want to, but it feels as though your brain won’t allow it. You’re tired and lonely. You miss home. You grieve for a man that is still alive. A long time has passed—people are constantly changing. He’s not the same man you were eating dinner with at Gran’s house. This is a man who has been through death himself, weighed down by his never-ending burdens and responsibilities, and you sink deeper into your guilt as you realise how unreasonable you’ve been.

You try to separate every thought again. Caleb is protective of you because he’s known you for most of his life and you’re the closest person to him. He put you under strict supervision because he’s worried you’ll be in danger without him to protect you. He treated you like a child, making you feel as though he doesn’t trust you. Your outburst halted everything and is slowly destroying your relationship inside and out. It all feels so monumental, so much bigger than you can handle, and you can’t help but feel defeated.

You have two options: continue this game of who can make the silent treatment last longer, or apologise to him and gain his forgiveness. It eats away at you either way. With apologising, you don’t even know where to begin; he’s never been mad at you nor has he ever raised his voice at you. He always tells you that everything is going to be okay, even if it doesn’t feel like it.

It’ll pass, is what he would say to you. And I’ll be here with you.

But when you have already destroyed everything with your bare hands, who will be there to rebuild it with you?

You haven’t prayed to a god in years. Prayers and rituals don’t work on you, you think, and so it’s not worth the time or effort. But as your eyes slowly close, you pray to whatever celestial being listens to you—give him back. You’ll never do it again.

4. DEPRESSION

Another day of silence passes and plunges you further into the pool of fear and helplessness.

Caleb hasn’t spoken a word to you. Not once. He still prepares your meals, leaves you notes, but he doesn’t utter a single word. You grow more restless by the minute. He’s angry with you. He’s just too nice to tell you upfront. Anxiety makes you avoid him, afraid of what he’ll do or how he’ll react. He doesn’t stop you from going out anymore, either. You’ve been spending your time outside his home, distracting yourself with whatever activity you can find on the streets. For the first few hours, the newfound freedom made you feel on top of the world, but it didn’t last.

Him stepping back should make you feel happy and relieved. Instead, the claws of despair pull you in closer and closer to its maw. You return home after a day out to complete silence. The floorboards would creak beneath your feet, waiting for someone to break the stillness, only for there to be nothing. When you wake up in the morning, Caleb leaves behind nothing but the remnants of his cologne in the air, small proof that he was home. The smell used to comfort you. Now, it makes you feel lonelier, because it’s not enough.

It feels like you’re losing him in real time. You’ve retreated so far into the corner that you’re fading into the background as the world continues on without you. You see him walking farther and farther away from you, disappearing into the crowd as he leaves you standing in the midst of it all. The thought of him leaving your life gnaws at you, puts you into a spiral of loneliness. You wanted this, didn’t you? For him to leave you alone?

Then why do you feel like you’ve been abandoned?

The stark reminder of his absence claws at your heart. You barely see him at home and it feels like you’re lost at sea, drifting away from the shore with each wave that the ocean carries. Getting out of bed feels like a monumental task. Your limbs feel heavy as if you’re being held back by a ball and chain. And you’re exhausted, even with the hours upon hours of sleeping and locking yourself away in your room, too tired to live. A part of you tells you you’re overreacting. You don’t even remember what had upset you in the first place, but you know one thing—

You don’t want him to go.

Being an adult comes with doing things you don’t want to do or are too afraid to do. This is just one of them. You’ll apologise to him with low expectations so you don’t break your heart, but you’ll fall into euphoria if he forgives you. He’s looking out for you. It’s not his fault. 

It’s yours.

You remember times in your childhood when he’d come get you after school with your favourite popsicle split in half, one for you and one for him. He’d ask about your day and his eyes twinkled with genuine interest as he listened to you go on and on about every detail that happened. The walk back home was always filled with joy. He feels like a distant memory, an echo of the past, and you wonder if he’s the one who changed or if it’s you.

Whoever it is, what was an unbreakable bond had shattered to pieces, and it was all by your own hand.

Self-hatred burns through you. You wish you were different. You wish you weren’t the way you are, so flawed and broken beyond repair. You wish you were like other women, those who are always on top of their game and strong no matter what life throws at them. Without realising it, you’ve already given up on yourself. You’re no longer loved by him; you’re an enemy, a monster, and the thought plagues your being.

The feeling of unworthiness lingers in your chest, a constant ache that wears down the edges of every thought. You remember the person you used to be with him before the explosion. Optimistic, hard-working, hopeful. She feels like a stranger now, like someone you used to know who left your life without saying anything. The weight of it all—the distance, the guilt, the silence—is becoming unbearable. He is slipping out of your grasp, ready to leave you as a memory of the past, and you’re falling further back. He is swimming to the surface while you are sinking deeper into vast nothingness, surrounded by the unknown. 

You wonder what he feels when he looks back at you. Is it pity, or is it resentment?

Or does he hardly feel anything at all?

The door opens, stopping your train of thought. You stagger up to your feet, quietly making your way to the entrance with your hands folded in front of you. Caleb’s eyes meet yours and you falter for a moment, every word you’ve rehearsed in your head going forgotten as time seems to be at a standstill. You muster up a smile, doing a little wave at him.

“Welcome home,” you say, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

He returns with a smile of his own. “Thanks.”

You want to say something, anything, but no words come out; you don’t know where to begin with them. Instead, you stand there and smile awkwardly, completely lost and insecure. Your smile feels fake. You know he knows it is. It’s a façade you’re using to hide the turbulence within you. Caleb’s smile is polite and you want to run into his arms and tell him everything you’ve been feeling. Your heart drops when he looks away from you, ready to leave to attend to his own affairs.

“I’ll just, um, go,” you chuckle nervously. “Sorry, you must be busy. I’ll see you around.” 

Reluctantly, you withdraw and return to your room, shutting the door with a quiet click. Drained, you fall to the ground and bury your face in your hands, frustration oozing off of you in waves. Was that a good sign? Or was he faking his friendliness just to get you off his back? He doesn’t seem angry, but you’ve also never seen him angry. Anxiety harrows you as you stare at the ground, mind racing with what feels like thousands of possibilities. You wish he was easier to read. How can you know someone for so long but know nothing about them at all?

You ball your hands into fists and tremble, tears streaming down your cheeks before you can stop them. You’re falling behind. He’s already on the path to moving on but you’re still stuck in your spot, hopelessly wishing he’d turn back and ask if you want to try again. This fight—the one with him, the one with yourself—feels daunting. You’re but a frail little thing facing off with something grand and monumental. It towers over you, cloaks you in its shadow, emphasising the fact that you are nothing compared to it.

The world is quiet, and as you sit gazing upon your opponent, you start to wonder if this fight was even yours to win at all.

5. ACCEPTANCE

Before you know it, it’s the night before the promised third day.

You were lucky enough to be able to have breakfast with Caleb this morning. It felt tense and awkward, but he still maintained the conversation so effortlessly as if your outburst never happened at all. He left for work with a simple kind smile and told you to stay safe if you do go out. Even while you’re being unreasonable, he still has your best interests at heart, and the fact that your tantrum is lasting this long humiliates you to no end.

You spent the day out at the shopping district. The city was vibrant with the hustle and bustle in its streets and pedestrians. You heard laughter and chatter, joy that was spreading among people and their friends, and you’d never felt more alone. Even in a place swimming with people, you still felt so isolated like you were just a speck of dust. Eventually, your surroundings became white noise, and time went by like a blur. It felt as if someone else was taking control over your body. You numbly went through each stall searching for souvenirs to bring back to your loved ones back in Linkon City, spending away without hesitation. 

When the sun began its descent, you made your way back with several bags of new items in hand. You’d gone over budget, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. For a moment, you were completely fine, free from the crushing weight of the world on your shoulders. Returning to Caleb’s place took away the momentary lightheartedness and replaced it with something devastatingly hollow. You moved on autopilot, stepping into the shower and taking off your makeup, changing into more comfortable clothes. 

When you were done, you sat in the living room and watched whatever was playing on the television, its audio turning into background noise as you drifted away with your musings. Before you knew it, it was dark outside, and Caleb was back home. You parted your lips to say welcome back, but he had entered his room before you could call for him. Awkwardly, you returned to the television and fidgeted with your hands, nervousness entering your system the longer he was gone.

It seems to be a peaceful time for Skyhaven tonight. The media representative of the Farspace Fleet had come out to answer whatever rapid fire question the journalists had. Reassuring every citizen, he had said that the cleanup they’ve been doing is gradually wrapping up, and that the lockdown would be lifted soon. With nothing else to worry about for the time being, officers were allowed to return home early, including the Colonel himself. 

Caleb reappears in his loungewear and stops to look at you, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows. “I’ll make dinner.”

“Okay,” you reply awkwardly, unsure of what to say. It doesn’t take long before he returns to the living room again, heading for the other end of the couch. Not wanting to disturb him, you leave him to his devices and stare ahead into the television, holding yourself back from looking at him repeatedly. It’s unusual for him to be home early, so you’re equally lost, completely clueless on how to function.

You sneak a glance at him. He’s reading a book, his brows furrowed in concentration as he immerses himself in creativity. He looks peaceful, so undisturbed, and you’re still not sure what to do. Even when you’ve been a brat, he still has your best interests at heart, and the fact that your tantrum has lasted for days humiliates you to no end. His consideration of you nearly brings tears to your eyes but you keep yourself together, not wanting to worry him.

You part your lips to speak only to close them again, frantically trying to come up with a coherent sentence in your head. He looks relaxed, so the chances of him reacting aggressively are low. You know he’d never raise his voice at you, but the paranoia hasn’t left you yet; everything you do needs a safety plan. Biting down on your bottom lip, you stare down at your hands before standing up, nervously wringing your hands behind your back.

Mustering up all the courage you have, you speak up, meekly, “I’m sorry.”

He looks up from his book, brows raised as he watches you in what appears to be confusion. You want to run away and hide, but he deserves this. It’s the least you can do.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, eyes downcast. “I’m sorry for lashing out. For acting up. It’s just… I’m just…”

He smiles softly, getting up from the couch and walking towards you. Bringing you close for a hug, he presses a soft kiss to your temple and squeezes your frame reassuringly. You melt into his touch, a burning sensation spreading in the centre of your face as your bottom lip quivers. You whine and hide your face in his sweater, desperately holding on to him as if he could disappear at any moment. You’ve already lost him once. You won’t lose him again.

You can’t.

“Please don’t leave me.” Your voice trembles as you speak and sniffle in between words. You grab onto the fabric of his sweater tightly, trying to keep yourself grounded. “I didn’t mean it. I won’t do it again—”

He sighs, content, and pulls you closer to him, letting you cry in his arms. His hand rubs soothing circles on your back as he hums a comforting tune, the same one he used to when you had nightmares as a kid.

“Silly girl,” he says, rocking you side to side. “I’m not gonna leave you.”

No one else will ever do it like him. He’s kind. He cares for you. He stays with you even with your volatility and your flaws. The resentment you’d been harbouring towards him douses you in guilt as you latch on to him, basking in his comfort. He’s only doing this because he cares. The disaster in your mind slowly unwinds and the grating voices that had been plaguing you the past week quiets down. 

He gently pulls away and brings his hands up to your cheeks before brushing away your tears with his thumbs, lulling you into a calmer state.

“It’s okay,” he coos. “I promise.”

Finally, you trust him, because he never makes promises he can’t keep.

[valentinesworld4ever]

Can you please write some soft Ticci Toby??? Like the reader insists on taking care of him for once

Care for me!

A/n; anon omg I LOVVVVEEEE this pls, also sorry if this isn't what you wanted 😭

Summary; toby never had someone to care for him, so when you come along and decide to do just that? Well one things for sure, you're never gonna get rid of him

Warnings!; general fluff, mentions of abuse, killing and wounds, Toby's bpd acting up especially towards the end

Toby didn't have much experience, he had obviously dated clockwork for a year or so but again but they both had their own issues meaning the two of them never had the time to comfort each other, their lack of experience and the trauma in which broke them up, but when you came into his life that changed? How could it not. To set the scene imagine this, Toby had just finished up from a mission, the person he killed putting up a tough fight leaving him scratched, cut and generally emotionally hurt, it was never easy to kill someone, but when they're fighting so much harder to stay alive? It really took it out of him.

But you, oh you, you were so kind, the newest to the mansion at the time, your soft gaze widening when seeing the tears well in his eyes, your soft hands grabbing his and asking him what was wrong? He liked you instantly, you didn't care to judge him for crying, you never judged him for asking for help cleaning his wounds and for that he truly knew you were someone he wanted to be around.

Toby after that moment never wanted much more from this friendship, not until at the dinner table your fingers intertwined with his, almost as if you knew he was beginning to panic, he knew he was whipped, his brown eyes staring into yours, and for a second the world stopped.

And toby again didn't expect this to continue, who would want to be his friend, to look after him, so he tried to put an end to this and make you NOT like him, but when he came home one night after being gone all week only to be met with your crying face, asking him where he had been and how you thought he was dead, he knew he just had to kiss you, and that's what he did, kissing you between his apologies, telling you how he'd never leave you again, and for a moment just a moment the world stopped again