#should i just blame depression in everything | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tonycries · 1 year ago

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FIRST masterlist! This masterlist has all my writing from 06/02/24 up until 01/10/24 — for my recent works click on my SECOND MASTERLIST <3

Men In Uniform Do It Best!

Dirty Lil' Secrets

A Picture Lasts Long (But Not As Long As That D*ck)

I'm Addicted, I Admit It!

Give Me Tough Love

Never Ever Seen This Before!

We Don't Have No Babies!

Like A Fever

Bad Things (To You)

Prettier When Messy!

Care For You!

Green-eyed Monster

So Lonely In My Mansion!

Kiss Me More!

Girl, I Do This Often

Cause, I Love Freaks!

Sl*t Me Out!

Match My Freak!

WAP!

R U Mine?

Hot To Go!

Girl, You Earned It!

I'm A BIG Stepper!

BODY-ODY!

SOOO ANXIOUS

Long Overdue!

THIS P*SSY DEPRESSED!

The Family Matter?!

I-T G-I-R-L!

I Lasted Ten Rounds!

BRAT!

She's My Vitals!

Three's a Crowd (But Four...) — “So, are they like holograms? Or can you really touch them?” “Why? Trynna cop a feel, sweetheart?” In which you and your boyfriend find very unconventional uses for his powers.

Why Can't I Keep My Fingers Off You? [Part 1] [Part 2] — There were two things missing in the scene in front of you: 1. The aphrodisiac chocolate your friends had given as a gag gift last Christmas that had been hidden away in the back of your refrigerator. 2. Your dear fiancé.

Dream A Little Dream — For the strongest, it was a privilege to dream. Especially when his dream is you.

Initiation! — “Just a small initiation, nothing too serious.” Couldn’t be too hard, right? So why are you - the all-new frat sweetheart - being pinned to the bed and stuffed full from all ends by your frat brothers?

One More? Please? — A kiss always solves everything! But when a kiss turns into something more…well, it’s only a desperate attempt to unseal yourselves from this damned prison realm, right? Right?

Everybody Knows That I'm a Good Girl, Officers... — You don’t know what’s faster - how fast you were speeding down the highway, or how fast you’re on your knees for the hot officers that just so happen to pull you over.

Hope They Catch Us — When you’re on-screen, it’s always a rivalry to see who’s best - you just never thought that it would be the same struggle in bed.

Unmistakably Yours — In which the strongest bends space and time - literally - after coming back from deatḣ, to do what he’s always wanted to do - you.

Madam Gojo — Gojo Satoru, the strongest clan leader in all of Japan - and the most dangerous, too. You, rejected by the elders, and totally not his future bride, right? Right?

Can't Touch Me (Like Gojo) — In which intentionally making your fríend-with-benefíts jealous ends up with more benefits than you’d think.

The Heir — No, your clan leader husband won’t stop until he gives you an heir. No, you don’t think you’ll make it out alive.

The Call — After an explosive fight with your boyfriend, you really should feel sorry about being swept up by the blue-eyed stranger at the club - but it’s so hard when he kisses you like that.

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy — He knows that you would be one of his favorite stories from his travels. And you know that you want nothing more than to stay by his side. After meeting an alluring cowboy at Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon, both of you are sure of one thing - this must be fate.

Go For It, Gojo! [Part 1] [Part 2] — You wouldn’t fuck Gojo Satoru even if you were paid…is what you thought exactly five minutes before you were shoved against the wall of this cramped closet, his face stuffed in your soaked panties.

Unhoneymooners!? — The universe was surely playing a joke on you. Here you were, trapped on a luxury getaway with your - dangerously handsome, extremely obnoxious - ex. Either you were going to kill each other or end up pinned beneath him, split apart on his cóck. You just didn’t know what would come first.

AITA For F*cking My Sugar Daddy's Son?! — When your sugar daddy just isn’t paying attention to you, can you really be blamed for fúcking his son? Especially when his son is absolutely obsessed with you.

Bad Boys Bring Roses — You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?

The Way You Kiss Me — The four times Satoru tries really hard not to kiss you - his best friend’s pretty younger sister. And the one time he doesn’t.

Isn't That Sweet? (I Guess So) — Oh no! Why do your pantíes keep disappearing? Well, maybe your hot roommate knows the answer…

Haunting You — A bIoody trail of vampire attácks, a political marriage, and four suitors you’re forced to choose from - all haunting you. But none as much as the mysterious stranger that makes everything in you scream that you might just be fated for the very thing your kingdom is trying to escape from.

You'll Taste Me Too! — How do you last three days on a work trip with the man you hate the most in the office? You don’t - you end up pinned underneath him, instead.

We Neva Play! — Turns out, the “r” in rivals stands for “really good séx” when a mission becomes a little too hot to handle.

Something Stupid — Five times the strongest would rather díe than tell you he loves you, and the one time he almost does. Almost.

Like An Animal — Of course Toji doesn’t want any more kids. Of course he’s lying as he stuffs your pretty cúnt full of his cúm for the third time tonight.

Whiskey, Neat, With a Side of You — When your date stands you up, you’re lucky that the hot bartender is more than happy to keep you company!

F*ck You! (Literally) — Of course, you hated your ex-husband. Of course, you found yourself in bed with him on your wedding anniversary.

Government Hooker — With the fame and glory of being an international popstar comes the inevitable threat of an overzealous stalker. You just didn’t think that it would also come with a very sexy, buff bodyguard behind your every move.

Madam Zenin — There’s nothing that rouses Toji, the infamous head of the Zenin clan, nothing that will make him lose control - until they take what’s most important to him. You.

Brooklyn Baby — Everybody wanted to fuck Suguru Geto, lead bassist of Tokyo Special Grades. Said Suguru doesn’t want to fuck anyone else but you. He couldn’t give less of a fuck if anyone walked in right now. In fact, a small part of him wishes someone would.

Golden Boy — Falling right back in love with the cult leader you’re supposed to kíll? Happens more often than you’d think.

Welcome To The Itadori's! — Three times Choso really, really wanted to hold you without his family barging in, and the one time he actually does.

FIVE! — Five hours - it’s all it takes for Choso’s baby fever to take over. After all, you’d look so pretty with his kid - five of them, in fact.

Great With Kids? (You Can Have Mine) — When your younger brother gets a new babysitter, only two questions linger on your mind: 1. How come your parents didn’t trust you in charge? 2. How dare the sexy babysitter be so perfect - it made you want some attention too.

Freak On The Cam! — Choso always loved watching you - his pretty lil’ camgírl - from behind the screen. Who knew he’d love being on-screen with you even more?

A Million Dollar Baby! — Turns out, rent can be paid in much more than one way.

Can't Touch Me (Like Gojo) — In which intentionally making your fríend-with-benefíts jealous ends up with more benefits than you’d think.

Exes who...

Love Is Blind

“She My Best Friend, Yeah We Not a Couple.”

Wanna Do Bad Things To You

I Wanna Get Freaky On Camera

Lemme Ride, Baby!

Can I Fill You Up, Baby?

"Pull On It. Harder."

Little Heaven

#masterlist #tonynavi

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atlabeth · 5 months ago

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in over my head

masterlist

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: between all the arguments, you and spencer begin to understand each other a little bit more.

a/n: wauw.... out of nowhere i wrote 4k words and finished this chapter in one night... god bless spencer reid. i hope you all enjoy. r's cold heart is finally starting to defrost. title from the fray song

wc: 5k

warning(s): arguing, case discussions (stalking, murder, etc), talk of parental neglect, hurt w/o comfort then hurt/comfort. r lowkey freaking out this whole fic. the usual good time

You lean against the wall, trying to keep your breathing as quiet as possible.

You don’t really want Spencer to know you were eavesdropping on him the whole time. You don’t really want him to see the look on your face because he defended you to your dad.

He— he should expect it, shouldn’t he? He’s sitting out in the living room on the phone, and you’re you. It’s only natural you’d listen in on him.

Spencer defended you to your dad— mouthed off to him in very un-Spencer-like fashion.

Why?

From what you’d gathered, he practically worshipped the guy. Even if he didn’t, your dad was still his superior. It didn’t really seem like any kind of good idea to talk back to him.

But he did.

For you.

You thought Spencer merely tolerated you because he had to. You wouldn’t blame him, the way you treated him. So why would he do something like that for you?

You’re jarred out of your thoughts when you hear Spencer say your name. You blink back into yourself to see him standing in front of you, and you feel your face burn.

So much for not being obvious.

“I’m assuming you heard everything?” he asks.

You nod. You have the decency to not insult his intelligence, at least.

“That means we can go over everything,” Spencer says, already starting to walk away. “Come on.”

You frown. You expected him to be mad at you for eavesdropping, or use what he did for you as leverage for something, or— or do anything but act normal.

You shake yourself out of your thoughts once again as you follow him back to the living room. Spencer sits back down on the couch and you tentatively sit across from him.

“I don’t want what I said to scare you,” he says. “Hernandez may be our lead right now, but I doubt it’ll stay that way. Elle and Morgan are going to check him out, and I’ll get another call once they do.”

You blink. Of course he’d expect you to be focused on that part—your stalker, the threat against your life, the whole reason you’re in here. Not Spencer sticking up for you.

“Right,” you say. “Do you think it’s him?”

“Honestly? No.” Spencer sighs and shakes his head. “You heard what I said. He doesn’t fit the profile—he’s a man who made the worst choices of his life when he lost everything. If he’s been released, he might have actually changed. We’re only on him because he’s all we’ve got.”

“…Good,” you say. “Strangling wouldn’t be my top way to go.”

“You need to stop talking like that,” he says.

“I need to stop doing a lot of things,” you respond. “Any idea how much longer we’ll be in here?”

Spencer shakes his head. “We’re here until this case is solved or our cover is blown.”

You huff. “Like if this guy finds us again?”

He nods. “But that shouldn’t happen. Elle, Gideon, Hotch, and Strauss are the only ones who know about this place, and they’re obviously sworn to silence.”

“Strauss?”

“Erin Strauss,” he says. “The BAU’s section chief.”

“Ah.” You realize you’re still holding your mug, now empty, and you lean forward to set it on the table. “What happens if we’re made?”

“You’ve got to stop thinking about the worst case scenarios,” Spencer says. “Pessimism doesn’t just make anxiety, depression, and paranoia worse—it can raise your blood pressure, increase your chance of cardiovascular problems, and mess with your immune system. It’s literally bad for your health.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” you ask. “I’ve got a stalker and we didn’t realize until he’d been watching me for a month. Your team has only got one lead and you don’t even think it’s the right one. That sounds pretty negative to me.”

“We’re still at the beginning of this case,” Spencer says. “It usually takes a few bodies for us to figure out what’s really going on and find the unsub in our regular cases.”

You stare at him, and he seems to realize what he’s actually said.

“Of course, there won’t be any bodies in this case!” he rushes. “You— you’re going to be perfectly fine!”

“You’re really not great at reassurance,” you say wryly as you pick up your cup and stand up, “are you?”

“Homicides only occur in two percent of stalking cases!” Spencer continues, his voice rising as you go into the kitchen. “A- and you might not even be the primary target! If anything, he might be going after your dad!”

By now you’ve finished filling your mug again. You stop at the edge of the hallway when he finishes, leveling a tired look at him.

“Thanks, Spence. That really helps.”

You walk back to your room, and once again, you only close the door halfway to humor his concerns.

If you’d lingered a little longer, you would have been able to see his frown.

“Spence?” he murmurs in confusion.

The rest of the day goes by smoother than you thought it would, largely because Spencer keeps his distance and you don’t fight it.

You busy yourself with more cleaning—you never finished it after your last outburst—and when you finish that, you read. You find Pride and Prejudice in the box of books the BAU provided, and it’s a good distraction. You’d much rather worry about the problems of the Bennets rather than your own.

You end up cooking first, and you offer Spencer some of your pasta when you finish. He initially looks shocked at the olive branch, but you figure you owe him something for all he’s put up with.

You don’t tell him that, of course. You just tell him he has five seconds to make a decision before you finish the rest, and he snaps out of it pretty quickly.

(“I promise I’m capable of cooking,” he says as he spoons a helping into his bowl. “I— I just don’t have much time for it. We’re always out on cases so we go to a lot of restaurants, and I get take-out at home because I get home at ungodly hours.”

“Just shut up and eat your food,” you say. “I don’t need to hear your opening statement.”

“Actually, I wouldn’t call this an opening statement. It’s more of—”

“Oh my god.” You pick up your bowl and walk off. “Goodbye.”

“I think it’s more of a witness testimony!” he calls out.)

A similar thing happens with dinner, where you pull out the old reliable of chicken and rice. Dressed up a bit with some of the vegetables that are somehow already on the verge of going bad, but still the same thing you’ve eaten a million times throughout your life. You don’t really feel like cooking, but you also don’t feel like having to hear Spencer set the smoke alarm again, so you settle for this.

(“You know,” Spencer says as he cuts into a chicken thigh, “I should really be trying everything first. Just in case there’s poison or something.”

You stifle your incredulous laugh. “How would there be poison in anything? You all bought and brought this stuff in.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. But you can never be too careful.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say. “I— I think that is the most ridiculous thing you’ve said since I’ve met you.”

“I hope you’re not challenging me,” Spencer says. “Because I can beat it very easily.”)

Between that, he calls out on occasion to make sure you’re still alive. You think it’s stupid, but it seems to ease his mind, so you play along.

He gets a call from your dad late at night, which he then goes on to relay to you—Agents Greenaway and Morgan paid a visit to Adam Hernandez, and they weren’t able to find anything suspicious. Penelope Garcia is going to comb through everything she can find on what he’s done since his release before they officially abandon the lead, but Hernandez is on parole and hasn’t violated it once—he seems to be clean.

You don’t know whether you’re thankful for that or not. On one hand, you want this to be over. Getting lucky on the first suspect would be great. On the other hand, having a face to all of this scares you more than not knowing. You still have the chance to deny that all of this is real, really real—when they find their guy, you can’t do that anymore. There’s actually someone out there that wants to hurt you.

The thought crossed your mind more often than not.

Other than that, he doesn’t really bother you. Another thing where you don’t really know if you’re thankful or not.

It’s close to midnight, and though you haven’t been able to sleep, you’re ready to accept this as another, thankfully non eventful day.

But then there’s a huge flash of lightning, visible even through your closed blinds, followed closely by a deafening crack of thunder, and your whole body freezes up. Your hands stop on the page you were on, and a chill runs all the way through you despite the layers of covers you’re under.

Rain has been pittering against the house for half the night, and you can deal with rain. You can’t deal with thunderstorms.

You let out a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. The absolute last thing you need to do is work yourself into a panic attack and get Spencer involved. You don’t think you could take the embarrassment.

You attempt to go back to your book. You’d just arrived at Mr. Collins’ unsuccessful marriage proposal, but you can hardly focus. It doesn’t help when lightning illuminates your room once again, a clap of thunder sounding even quicker after, and your lamp flickers for a moment. This is actually the last thing you need—for the power to go out.

A knock on your door suddenly sounds, and you nearly jump out of your skin. You’re already on edge and the storm’s just barely started. You hear Spencer call your name and ask if you’re awake, and you clear your throat before you respond.

“What do you want?” You try to keep your voice as level as possible, but it wavers ever so slightly.

“Can I come in?”

You don’t want him to see you like this. “Is there something wrong?”

“It’s the storm,” he says, and he doesn’t wait for you to respond. “I’m coming in.”

You have all of two seconds to make sure you don’t look as pathetic as you feel before Spencer walks in.

He looks like he just got out of bed. He’s wearing a Caltech crewneck and sweatpants, and his glasses are about to fall off his face. His disheveled appearance is in stark contrast to his usual image, with dress pants and button-ups and sweater vests galore. One of his hands clenches around the doorframe, and he uses the other to haphazardly push his glasses up as he sets his eyes on you.

“You need to come back into the living room,” Spencer says.

“And good evening to you too.” You try not to look at him. You’ve learned that’s the best policy when it comes to him and those stupid glasses. “Why?”

“Because there’s a storm going on, and the power’s already flickered,” he says. “I don’t want to lose track of you if it does go out.”

“If the power goes out, we’re in the open out there,” you say. “If you’re so worried about it, you should stay in here.”

You expect a fight, but he just sighs and sits down in the chair across from your bed. “Fine.”

You frown. “That was easy.”

“I don’t feel like fighting with you over every little thing,” he says simply. “You might enjoy it, but I don’t. So I’m trying to take the path of least resistance.”

“That’s no fun,” you say.

“Well, you’re not very fun to be around,” Spencer says. He glances at you for a split second before his gaze goes back to the wall. “So.”

“Well, neither are you!” You don’t mean for your retort to come out so defensively, and you cringe as he looks back at you. It’s impossible to be around profilers without them knowing your every intent. You’d hate to know all the thoughts he’s had about you. “I might turn everything into a fight, but you turn everything into a drag.”

“You’re doing it again,” he says. You expect him to go on, but he leaves it that. You find your brows furrowing deeper.

“And?”

“Maybe if you recognize your patterns, you’ll stop,” he says. “Sometimes people don’t realize they're doing something until it’s pointed out to them.”

You huff. “How many times do I have to tell you not to psychoanalyze me?”

“I don’t choose to do it,” Spencer says. You don’t miss the slight bite behind his words, and it almost makes you smile. As much as he doesn’t want to give you a fight, he can’t really help himself. You tend to bring out the worst in people. “It just happens in my brain automatically.”

“Try to hold back,” you say. “It—”

Your words die in your throat with another crash of thunder, almost simultaneous with the lightning. It shakes the whole house, and you can’t help the full body flinch that wracks you, almost freezing completely. The power flickers again, and then it goes out altogether. You don’t even hold back your groan of annoyance.

“Of course,” you grit out. “Of fucking course.”

“Are you okay?” You look at him despite yourself, and even in the dark you can see the concern in his eyes. It makes your hands clench into fists beneath the sheets.

“Fine,” you mutter. “It doesn’t matter.”

Spencer frowns. “Of course it does.”

You scoff. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Why would it not matter?” he asks incredulously. “You— you’re clearly distressed, and holding it back isn’t helping anyone.”

“Maybe I just like silence.”

“Well, you clearly don’t like storms.”

“How’d you figure that one, genius?” you mutter. You wrap your arms around yourself and pull your knees up to your chest, trying to lessen the sudden chill you feel.

“...Normally, I would give you a real answer,” Spencer says. “But based on the lecture you just gave me—”

“You figured right,” you snap. It only takes a second—and those stupid, soft eyes of his to dart away again—for you to feel… bad.

He sighs and shakes his head as he stands up. “I’m going to get a candle. Stay put.”

You tense as he walks out. Your whole body does, actually. You don’t know what it is about him or those stupid eyes that always manage to skirt out sympathy from you.

You should feel gratified. At the start of this, you wanted to push Spencer to his limits—he’s too nice for his own good, and you wanted him to not only give you a more concrete reason to hate him, but get a reason to hate you back. Then you wouldn’t have to deal with this one-sided rivalry with the apparent saint of the BAU.

But you don’t. You feel bad, and you hate it. You hate it more than any reasonable person should, but then again—you’ve never been reasonable.

Spencer comes back in sooner rather than later, two lit candles in his hands. You can see the on-sale sticker plastered on the side of both, and you suppress a laugh. It’s something so small but so typical.

“One’s vanilla, and one is,” he squints as he shifts it in his hand to read, “beach escape. What does a beach escape even smell like?” He shakes his head, then looks at you. “Which one do you—”

“I’m sorry,” you interrupt. You blurt it out before you can even stop yourself.

This time, it’s Spencer’s turn to frown. His face is illuminated from beneath by the candlelight and it gives him an almost haunting beauty, highlighted with yellow and white along his jawline and cheekbones. The flames are mirrored in the lenses of his glasses. “For what?”

“For snapping.” You almost snap at him again out of instinct, and you let out a long, loose sigh in an effort to try and chill out for once. “Sorry. Again.”

“Oh.” He stands there for a moment holding the two candles, and it could be a laughable sight were you not near consumed with guilt. “Uh— it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Fine,” he says, “it’s not. Which candle do you want?”

“Which one do you want?”

“This isn’t where you have to start the ‘being nice to me’ thing,” Spencer says. “They’re kind of starting to burn my hands.”

“Beach escape,” you say. He nods and sets it on your bedside table, then sits back down in his chair after placing the vanilla one in the window sill.

“You… seem a little pent up,” Spencer says after letting the silence dwell for a beat. His shoulders have relaxed some, not hunched up almost to his ears. Small victories, at least.

“I don’t talk about my emotions much,” you respond in equal fashion. “It’s not really my thing.”

He shrugs. “Why not start now?”

You laugh. “Why would I ever start now?”

“You said it yourself,” he says. “I have a psychology degree. I’m a good listener.”

“You interrupt me all the time to say stuff.”

“You interrupt me all the time too, so I guess we’re even.” Spencer shifts in his chair. “Besides, I can listen when it’s important. And this is.”

You stare at him. He stares back.

He has beautiful eyes even in the dark, and you hate that you can’t deny it. Deep brown like the oaks surrounding this place, that shine like pools of honey in the firelight, that always seem to soften just so when he looks at you.

You break first. You have to look away. You always have to look away.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you manage. “I was a latchkey kid. Storms happened a lot when I was home alone and they scared me. I guess they still do. Happy?”

“Believe it or not, your pain doesn’t make me happy,” Spencer says.

“I didn’t think it did,” you say, trying your best to snap.

He nods. “So we’re in agreement?”

“I—” you pause, a slight frown creasing your brows. “I guess.”

Spencer nods again, and he leans forward a bit. “Wasn’t that a lot better than fighting with me, getting upset, and isolating yourself?”

You scowl. “Don’t you dare therapize me.”

“It’s hard not to,” Spencer says. “Especially when you seem determined to make our conversations one-sided.”

You scoff. “I do not.”

“You act like talking to me is a physical pain.” He crosses his arms. “You locked yourself in the bathroom last night to avoid talking to me.”

“I locked myself in the bathroom so I wouldn’t lose my mind in front of you,” you say. “Just because I know everything about you doesn’t mean I want you to know everything about me.”

Spencer scoffs. “You don’t know everything about me.”

“My dad talks about you more than you think,” you say. “About your whole team—but especially you.”

“Where am I from?” he asks.

“Vegas,” you say. “He mentions it every time you beat him at cards.”

“That— that doesn’t really matter,” he says. “I know you’re from Fairfax.”

“The worst place in the world,” you say emphatically. You can’t believe you’ve been stuck in NoVa your whole life. “Doesn’t count, though. You’re an FBI agent—you’re supposed to know things like this.”

“So it counts when you know it, but it doesn’t count when I do?” Spencer asks.

You nod. “I’ve heard about Penelope Garcia. I’m more surprised you don’t know everything about me by now.”

“Me too,” he says. “Garcia can find anything. Gideon really did a good j—”

He stops in the middle of his sentence, his eyes widening slightly as he clamps his mouth shut.

“What?” You lean forward, looking him in the eye. “He did a good job doing what?”

“I don’t want to start another argument,” he says.

“Oh, poor you.” You don’t think you could sound more sarcastic if you tried. “You don’t want to hear me talk about my absent father that didn’t have time for me because he was too busy with you.” You glance away. “You don’t know what it feels like.”

“There’s something you don’t know about me then,” Spencer says. “Because I do.”

“Unless your dad’s ignored you all his life in favor of his job and the stray genius he found there, you really don’t.”

“My dad left when I was a kid because he couldn’t deal with my mom’s schizophrenia,” Spencer retorts. His words get you to look right back at him—they’re not overly sharp or exceedingly soft, just matter-of-fact. “I haven’t seen him since. So you’re right—I don’t know exactly what it’s like, but I know a hell of a lot more than you think.”

Regret hits you immediately, sour and spiny as it settles in your chest. You’ve been an asshole to him this whole time, and all along he’s held this inside of him? All along, you’ve been accusing him of stealing your life from you when he’s lost more than you have.

For a moment, you can only stare at him, at a loss for words. He meets your eyes in equal measure. You might know a lot about Spencer Reid, but you’re quickly realizing you don’t know Spencer Reid.

“Guess we’re a lot more similar than you thought,” he says in your silence.

“I’m so sorry, Spencer,” you murmur, finally managing to muster up words. “That’s awful. You didn’t deserve that.”

“No one does,” he shrugs. This time, he’s the one to look away. “But it is what it is.”

“How can you just say that?” you ask. You lean forward, a frown creasing your brows. “How are you not just— just angry all the time? That your dad doesn’t give a fuck about you or your mom?”

“For a while, I was.” He chuckles, but there’s no heart in it. “I was angry at everyone. My dad, my mom, the adults around me— I hated myself most of all. It’s part of the reason I was so good in school. I didn’t want to think about it, I didn’t want to deal with it, so I studied as hard as I could, read as much as humanly possible.” He smiles thinly at nothing in particular. “Turns out I’m very good at avoiding things when I want to.”

You shake your head with a scoff. “You’re a better person than I am. I would have hunted him down by now and given him a piece of my mind.”

“It’s not worth it.” Spencer looks back at you. “He decided he didn’t want to be a part of my life. I’m not going to reward him by letting him ruin it when he’s not even here.”

Is that what you’re doing? Letting your dad ruin your life by letting him occupy every part of it even when he’s not there? He’s influenced every part of your life, every part of you, and he hasn’t been here for half of it. Sometimes you’re surprised he didn’t miss your birth.

Another flash of lightning, another crack of thunder. You tense every muscle in your body to stop yourself from flinching as hard in front of Spencer. You think he notices anyway.

“I’ve been angry at my dad since I was a kid,” you say once you’ve recovered. “He missed my dance recitals and my gymnastics meets and my soccer games, but he signed the checks for all of the payments. He told me to take honors and AP classes and missed the ceremonies for the awards. He was never there for anything that mattered, but—” you laugh again, and you blink back the tears— “but he waited until I was eighteen to get a divorce so I wouldn’t have to deal with a custody battle.”

You bite down hard on your lip to force them back even harder as you look at Spencer. “Isn’t that fucked up? Neither of them have been there for us, but they’ve still shaped every part of us with their absence. We can’t escape it even when they’re not here, because them not being here is what caused it.”

“I refuse to give him that much power,” Spencer says. “My dad left. He chose to leave. He doesn’t want anything to do with me, so I don’t want anything to do with him. I mean, I’m an FBI agent. I work with some of the best profilers in the world. I could find him if I wanted to, but I’m not going to waste my time chasing some pipe dream of a father that doesn’t exist.”

“Your situation is different, though.” Both his eyes and tone soften, and something inside you stirs. “The only break I know Gideon’s taken was that six month medical leave that was practically forced on him. I think it would take an actual, life-threatening injury to get him to take another one. It’s a lot different having someone around and just… being neglected.”

“I’ve just always felt like such an asshole for it,” you mutter. “You all save lives every day. You’ve taken down a thousand sick criminals.” You shake your head with another mirthless laugh. “My dad saves women like me every day, gives them the chance to see their fathers again, and I’m mad at him because— because he won’t meet me for brunch? Because he missed my school band concerts?”

“It’s not that simple,” Spencer says. “It’s never that simple. You don’t need to feel bad for hating him, but you also don’t need to feel bad for loving him, too.”

You scoff. “There you go again with the psychology degree.”

“It’s the truth,” he says. “Just because you feel rightfully angry doesn’t mean you don’t still love him. It’s part of the reason why you’re so conflicted about him.” He gave you a wry smile. “It makes everything a lot more complicated, doesn’t it?”

You shift in your bed. “Far cry from everything you told me before all this started.”

“We see completely different sides of Gideon,” Spencer says. “I’m just… ashamed that it took me so long to believe you about all of it.”

You huff a laugh. “I’m the one that should be ashamed. I thought you had this— this perfect life, with my dad loving you on top of it. That’s why I hated you so much.”

He perks up. “Hated? As in, past tense? As in, you don’t hate me anymore?”

You try to bite back your smile. You barely succeed. “Call it a truce.”

Spencer grins and nudges his glasses back into place once again. “This might be my favorite truce since 1914.”

“Christmas Truce,” you nod. “Good one.”

“You know it?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “I’m a teacher.”

Spencer blinks. “You— you are?”

“Why is that such a surprise?” you ask.

“You’re so…”

“Mean to you?” You chuckle. “Trust me, I’m not like this with my kids. My job is one of the parts of my life that I’m actually happy with.”

“...Huh.” Spencer smiles at you, and you find yourself smiling back, subconsciously. “You should tell me about it sometime.”

“Sure,” you nod. “Maybe you can tell me about everything you do sometime.”

“You’re sure you won’t get bored?” he asks. “You might not realize, but I have a tendency to rant.”

You laugh. “Part of our truce.”

This time, he nods. “Cool. That— that’s cool.”

You roll your eyes as you look away, but your smile betrays you once again. Your gaze snaps over to the lamp as it flickers back on, and you realize you haven’t heard any thunder in a while.

“Looks like the storm’s passed.” Spencer separates two of the window blinds with his fingers and peers through. You’ve never really focused on his hands like you do now—with the way you feel your face burn, it’s probably a good thing. You look away as soon as possible. “Just rain, now.”

“Good,” you say, and you let out a yawn. “All our talking tired me out.”

“Good,” he echoes as he picks his candle up from the window pane. “You should get eight hours of sleep a night, and I know for a fact you don’t.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever, professor.”

“You’re the teacher here,” he says. “I should be saying that to you.”

“And yet you’re so much more annoying than I could ever be,” you muse.

“Does our truce include this?”

“Naturally.”

Spencer chuckles and shakes his head. He starts walking to the doorway, but you speak up before he can leave.

“Night, Spencer.” You pause as you bite the inside of your lip, then continue before you can stop yourself. “I really enjoyed talking with you.”

He hesitates for a moment, his hand lingering on the doorframe. Then he bids you goodnight in the same fashion, actually saying your name. “I did too.”

It makes your heart skip a beat.

Spencer closes the door behind him, and you find yourself staring at the wood long after he’s gone. You jolt when you finally come back into yourself, and you shake your head to get out of the haze.

You glance at the clock on your bedside table, and blink when you realize it’s almost 1:30. You really do need to get to bed.

The smoke makes you cough as you blow your candle out, and you wave a hand around to dispel it before you turn the lamp off. You lay down and pull the sheets up around you. You end up having to switch positions at least five times before you start to get comfortable.

But the strangest thing is plaguing you despite your restlessness. You were freezing before the storm started, even when the electricity was working, but now there’s a strange warmth attempting to permeate within you. It almost helps you relax.

The room feels a lot smaller without him in it.

You exhale, long, slow, and deep as you close your eyes. The scent of vanilla lingers in the air.

You hope you don’t dream tonight.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #gideon!reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #x reader #sadie writes #anyone that knows anything about george mason knows how upsetting it is that she went there instead of columbia LMAO #literally the most soul sucking commuter school

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batsandbirdbrains · 2 months ago

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Can you imagine the absolute psychotic break Dick would have if he found out Deathstroke was his biological dad? So anyway on that note

The one where Dick is actually Deathstroke’s son

Dick legitimately has no clue in this AU that he’s not actually the son of John and Mary Grayson. Let’s go ahead and make this one also right after the end of young justice season 2 where everyone is pissy bc nightwing was “secretive” and “too much like Batman” bc he did the absolute correct thing in not telling the whole goddamn team abt Kaldur’s deep cover op. I’m still mad they gave him shit for that if u can’t tell like im sorry u all got ur feelings hurt but dick and Kaldur’s plan literally saved the world like hello ur welcome. Anyway.

Dick is utterly Depressed and he’s isolating himself in a Blüdhaven safe house, basically falling apart at the seams bc he’s terrible at taking care of himself when he spirals like this. Everyone’s mad at him and he’s blaming himself. He’s throwing himself into the Nightwing shit and running himself ragged beating up baddies, but he’s also just exhausted and not eating right or sleeping well and he has a shitty job at dive bar or a strip club as a busboy. Should we age him down to 17? Let’s make him 17, for the added angst of not even being a legal adult but having to take care of himself and make a fake ID so he can even get a job. Not that his boss even really looked at it or legally employs him, but still. If he’s 18+ let’s make him a stripper/dancer for the extra tips and to add to the whole desperate for cash thing. Plus he’d prob get a lot of intel for his night job, actually. Idk idk

So also, instead of Artemis going undercover to help out with Kaldur, she refused. She and Wally had no interest in returning. So Dick had to maintain both his role as Nightwing and go undercover as Renegade, Deathstroke’s apprentice.

Slade was surprisingly on board for going along with Dick’s charade, because there’s no keeping secrets like that from Deathstroke of course he knew it was all a ruse. Dick just had to promise to actually follow orders while out as Renegade and to actually put effort in when Slade trained him. Dick couldn’t figure out why it was so easy to get Deathstroke to agree, he knew it would eventually come back to bite him in the ass, but he was desperate and running out of options so he took it.

So one night when Dick comes home after getting the shit kicked out of him by some run of the mill baddies, he finds Slade Wilson sitting on at his wobbly kitchen table, drinking coffee out of Dick’s favorite mug and looking like he’s judging the state of cleanliness (or lack thereof) of Dick’s apartment/safe house. Dick is too tired to even question it and just falls face first on the couch, pressing his face into the cushion until he sees stars.

A muffled “What do you want” brings a short laugh from Slade, and it just makes Dick feel even more exhausted.

Slade basically talks shit about the so called heroes who threw Dick away when they didn’t like the way his plan worked, Dick starts tuning him out because of course he’s going on a monologue when all Dick wants to do is go rot in bed for the next 18 hours. But then he says something in such a casual tone that it takes a moment for Dick to register what the words mean, and he snaps his head up so fast it feels like he snaps a muscle in his neck like a broken rubber band.

“Shut the fuck up,” he chokes out. “There’s no way I heard that right.”

“Denial’s not a good look on you,” Slade snorts.

Because Slade had just said moments ago that Dick is his long lost son, he ran a DNA test and everything.

“Long lost son,” Dick mocks, “that’s bullshit. What is this, a soap opera?”

“You were kidnapped when you were two years old,” Slade says, his voice calm but serious. Not wavering. “I’d been on a job. Your mother was called away by her father. You were left with a nanny we thought we could trust. That was a mistake. And I’ve regretted leaving that morning every day of my life since.”

Dick can’t stop staring at Slade. This has gotta be a joke. He’s so full of shit, there’s no way.

But Slade isn’t wavering at all. He’s not smirking. He’s not smiling. He’s just watching Dick so intensely, and Dick feels like he’s under a microscope.

He shows Dick the documents. The proof Slade even has a third son at all. Pictures that look an awful lot like the toddler he’s seen in pictures from the boxes of old stuff from his parents’ circus trailer. A toddler playing with Slade’s two older sons, Grant and Joey, who Dick may or may not have briefly met while Renegade.

And then he drops another bomb on him.

“Your mother is Talia al Ghul.”

Dick feels like his lungs just popped like a balloon.

He doesn’t know what happens, but next thing he knows, Slade is sitting next to him on the floor, counting out breaths and talking him down from what was probably the worst panic attack Dick has had in at least a solid week.

“I hate you and you’re full of shit,” Dick gasps, his chest aching. Definitely only because he’d been kicked in the ribs earlier by a thug, no other reason.

Slade just laughs. Not like an asshole smug laugh Dick is used to hearing from him, but like he’s actually genuinely amused by Dick and his antics.

It’s only a little bit of a mind fuck.

Slade convinced Dick to come with him, at the very least just so Dick can use the equipment Slade has to run the DNA test himself and confirm whether Slade is telling the truth or not. And maybe to have a meal that isn’t instant ramen or cereal or a rotisserie chicken.

And Dick hates how comfortable he is with Slade, because he slips right back into the role of Renegade like he never left. And Slade actually treats him like a son, like he’s proud of him, like Dick isn’t just a weapon or a pawn to be used. Slade isn’t throwing him away as soon as he’s gotten all he can get out of him.

And if Slade is maybe putting some biased thoughts about how the Justice League and their junior team treated him into his head, Dick steadfastly ignored that fact. Because it’s true, they treated him like shit. Like he was expendable. They needed his plan to save the world from the reach, and then tossed him out on his ass and called him manipulative for it without so much as a “Thank you, Nightwing, for coming up with a plan that saved us from the alien overlords.”

And then he meets Grant and Joey. As himself, as Dick, not as Renegade. And they’re his big brothers, and they’re so excited to see him, they missed him so much, he was so little last they saw him. And it’s such a stark contrast from how Tim was so mad at him last they spoke, because Tim thought he should’ve been in the loop about the deep cover op, but Tim is still a newbie who almost tore his eyebrows off taking his domino mask off wrong not even a month before the invasion ended, how the hell was Dick supposed to involve him in such a terrifying mission?

And if Dick is out as Renegade with Deathstroke one night and runs into members of his old team, runs into a confused Kaldur who doesn’t understand why Dick is still going out as Renegade, well then maybe they should’ve worried about what Dick was up to before Deathstroke sunk his claws into him.

Because now Dick isn’t sure if he even wants to go back to them.

#dick Grayson #Slade Wilson #deathstroke #nightwing #young Justice #fic ideas #this one kinda got away from me i don’t rly know what i was doing with it tbh

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jellykyunnie · 1 month ago

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˗ˏˋ Entry : 066 - Sung Jinwoo x Fem! Reader: But He Never Looked Your Way ◛⑅·˚ ♡ ˎˊ˗

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ Part 1 || Part 2♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

[ Angst. Lol. Depression. Anxiety. Heartbreak. First Love with no reciprocation. Do prepare tissues, maybe. Hahah. ]

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Daydream ] ¡! ❞

What a radiant man.

How can one be so beautiful? It's like god himself played favourites on the world and blessed this specific boy to have the most ethereal face ever to be sculpted.

Straight eyebrows as if it was painted by a divine artist, lovely pink lips as precious and delicate like spring's fluttering blossoms, and eyes as calm and serene as the ocean glimmering underneath the waning moon.

It's unfair.

It's unfair how beautiful he is.

So you admire him from afar. You never dare to come close. If you do—

You'll burn.

Like the foolish Icarus who reached too close to the sun with an outstretched hand.

Has love always been this intense and painful? Has everyone who ever fell in love suffered this much devastation and hopelessness?

If so, is it possible to survive this? This ache in your chest that seems to suffocate you?

If this is love, then the story books really lied. Everyone grew up already, but you foolishly clung onto the sweet dream of believing that love is as beautiful as the books say they were.

Where once you fall in love— Everything would be beautiful.

That everything sounds like you are dancing hand in hand with your beloved on the shores, that the birds would sing choirs as if they are rehearsing for your marriage— that suddenly everything wrong in this world would disappear.

Yes.

You truly believed in those.

Like the blissful fool you are.

So what was it like when everything you believed was all nothing but sweet lies? What was it like when reality slapped you across your face, spat on you, and laughed at you for simply wishing to believe that love is beautiful?

Why must the world lie?

No. Maybe the only person you should blame is yourself.

By choosing to believe in those fairytales despite the signs you already saw before coming to this point— You have volunteered yourself to have a crushing reality check. The world was never kind, the adults just chose to lie.

Everyone lies.

And how you wish your heart would lie to you too.

That in truth, you do not love Jinwoo. It is simply admiration. It's shallow infatuation.

You hoped, you prayed, despite not believing in what they called god— You prayed to him that your heart is merely just deceiving you. That all these feelings drowning you like a tidal storm would pass and be gone like the fleeting breeze of the east wind carrying everyone's burdens.

But no, not it did not.

Instead of granting you mercy, instead of ridding you the pain of this anguish— It seems as though god sent an angel towards you to stab your already bleeding heart and twist the knife ever so slowly.

You falter and swear to yourself that you would no longer love him.

But oh how quickly you swallow your oath and turn back to gaze at that beautifully radiant smile of his no matter how meek and small.

How could you not adore him? How could you not relish,... Not to bask, in that warmth he exudes? He may be blinding like the burning sun, he may stand out in the sea of people like the moon sticking out like a sore thumb in the black sky— But to you?

He shines so delicately and sweetly like a twinkling star dancing across the endless night.

You wish to hold him in your heart, to bury him in there and to cherish him.

But you dare not. Because someone like you doesn't deserve to even be near him. Not even one footstep away.

For someone who loved him so dearly that you could die— You wanted to run away from him.

꒰ .... ꒱

"You're moving with grandmother next week." Your father said as you dined with him and the family.

Your fingers freeze as you hold your spoon and fork, sheepishly looking up at him to wish you misheard, "Sorry?"

"You're moving with Grandma", Your mother repeated, "Dad and I will be moving to the states with your siblings, we can't rope you in due to your age. Just wait here and we'll take you with us as soon as we have a green card there. Pack your things tonight, leave only what you will use for the next five days. Dad will drive you there on friday after school, he'll pick you up."

"...Sure" You merely nodded your head, not having the heart nor confidence to ask anything further.

You were always aware of them migrating, but not this soon.

School doesn't end until next month, why couldn't they wait until then? You couldn't bring yourself to entirely accept the situation so you got up to leave the dining table with the excuse of packing up since you have a lot to store.

Can you handle saying goodbye to him?

Can you look him straight in the eyes, directly at those grey orbs, and say farewell?

No, no... You can't.

As you mull over the idea while pacing in your room back and forth over and over— Another question hits you:

"Would it even matter even if you say goodbye?"

To him, what were you?

And all while you yearned and ached for him— What does Jinwoo think of you?

A friend? A classmate? A seatmate... A stranger?

What if, for all this time, he didn't really care about? That you are nothing but a passing face in crowd of people he comes by. Perhaps all along you are nothing but just a face with a forgettable name to him. Yes, perhaps that is the answer.

꒰ .... ꒱

Five days.

You have exactly five days left until it's farewell forever with him.

Day One.

Day Two.

Day Three.

Day Four.

And finally, the Fifth Day.

Countless times, you tried to reach out to him.

But why is it that everytime you stretch your hand towards him; your fingers would falter?

Behind that tall back you have always admired, behind the footsteps of the person you cherished so deeply— Even with a simple goodbye you falter.

Why can't you for once just reach out and call him by his name? Two syllables. A name with just two syllables.

Jinwoo.

And yet you cant even open your mouth by even a quarter just to utter that name you chant in your head like a prayer meant to save your blackened soul from sin.

But as he smiled towards someone else, as his precious eyes crinkle at the corners— You end up lowering your hand that almost reached his sleeve.

Ah, how beautiful he is.

How beautiful that man is that you beg to drown in, how beautiful that boy is truly.

A smile so gentle yet radiant.

You wished for him to utter your name, you wished that when he does— It would linger on his lips like a sweet aftertaste.

But all of that, is just a delusion made by your countless daydreams.

How could he not notice your pain? Is he that cold?

If he did notice your pain, will he mend your broken self?

No.

It doesn't matter anymore.

In this heavy darkness you are forever entwined in; you drown in the deep sorrow of a dearly beloved that is so near yet so far. Even when you stretch your hand towards him— He seems so far away.

Where your fingertips should meet his, there is only empty air with the faintest trace of his scent lingers.

The lump on your throat, the heavy weight on your shoulders, they continue to rain down on your already battered self.

Loving Jinwoo brings you nothing but sorrow. A deep black sea of sorrow that you voluntarily surrender yourself to be drowned in. Never moving an inch, only standing so still to accept your faith that this— This is your reality.

Not those bygone dreams of a happy ending where the princess and the prince charming meet their rightful 'The End.'

There is no happy ending for you no matter how much you wish to carve him into your soul. There is nothing to hold onto despite you not ever wanting to let him go.

In this blazing summer afternoon, past the end of these winding hallways, past the swaying trees and the pathways that always used to lead to him—

This moment will be buried in the blur of time.

This is final day you will watch his back.

After Today,

There would be no tomorrow with him in front of you anymore.

꒰ 🪼 A/N: I'm backk<33!! How are you guys heheh:DD? I finally finished hws and well... I'm back with a bang. Should I make a part two? Yes? No? Maybe so? H e h... How many tissues did you guys use up? I hope I communicated the pain well!!! ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

#‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆— kyunnie's writings #sung jinwoo #solo leveling #sung jin woo #only i level up #solo leveling headcanons #solo leveling x reader #sung jinwoo headcanons #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo fics #solo leveling fics

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egurt · 11 days ago

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"daddy's gonna buy you a mockingbird"

Trein,Crewel,Sam (separataly) x gn!reader

summary: reader is tired, they noticed. basically father figures headcanons¿

‼️ English isn't my first language (⁠・⁠–⁠・⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ strictly platonic!!!!reader is yuu. this is my old draft i hope it is as good as i remember

To be honest, all of this was starting to irritate you. Your friends' endless overblots, their indifference to your problems… Hell, they don't even ask how you're doing! None of them! And you're practically fainting from overwork and poor nutrition. Although it's not their fault that you have such a disgusting daily routine and lifestyle, right? But they could at least ask for the sake of decency.

The inaction of the Headmage was also getting on your nerves. This useless parody of a principal was diligently (no) trying to pretend that he was trying to find a way to get you home, but you seemed to have completely resigned yourself to the fact that this would never happen. And Crowley still had the courage to call you to his office every Friday, ask how your studies are going, knowing full well that everything is terrible, give you three and a half yen for living expenses and forcibly throw you out of his office! By the way, you haven't heard from him for a long time.. Is he on vacation again!? What a jerk-!

In general: You are tired. Very. Very much. It's like your friends don't care, you will never see your family again, and you have two hryvnias and one kopeck for living expenses.

Although, even if you think that no one notices your exhaustion, you are wrong.

Someone did notice.

Mozus Trein.

The old man has a nose for teenage problems, he is a real father, one of the few teachers, if not the only one, who has children

who had..

in general, he knows how depressed children behave. Experience!

"Perfect." - a male voice, this time imbued with a previously unfamiliar warmth, tears you out of your stream of thoughts. You raise your head only to see that you are left with your precious professor all alone in the classroom. It takes you a few seconds to realize that they are talking to you and that the room is empty.

The professor looks at you, the tense frown on his face softens when your eyes meet. - "It seems you spend too much time with Kingscholar, he is a bad influence on you, you are already starting to fall asleep during my lectures." - Trein shakes his head, but his tone is light, as if he is trying to joke.

"Ah…" - you straighten up, rubbing your eyes, trying to get rid of a horse dose of fatigue. - ".. I'm sorry, Professor, too much workload lately."

Trein puts his fingers on his chin and closes his eyes. - "Let me ask what kind of workload? I can't remember me burying you in too many assignments? Is Crewel being too harsh with you? Maybe I should figure it out-.."

"No, absolutely not!!" - you rush to interrupt him, waving your hands. - "Professor Crewel is not to blame for anything! It's Crowley who is piling a lot of work on me."

"Hm."

After that, you very clearly felt the difference between what kind of workload you had before and what you have now.

Unbeknownst to everyone, Trein was softer, more gentle and affectionate towards you: He praised you more often, called you to him after classes just to chat and relax, to talk about your problems.

It's so warm and cozy next to him, as if you were sitting by the fireplace under a fluffy knitted blanket, sipping ginger tea with milk.

He's your outlet, the one you can come to in any state and he will give you that parental love and care that you so lack.

Oh, how he misses his daughters.

10/10 ideal father figure.

Divus Crewel.

"Pup, come to me after class." - Crewel's voice, like a whip, cuts through the concentrated silence of the classroom. His tone sounds like a threat, a question rushes through your head: what have you done? Your classmates cast sympathetic glances at you, as if they have already sung the last verse for your soul.

But you silently fulfill the request, as always. When the classroom was empty at the end of the lesson,Crewel with some suspiciously serious and displeased look, which looked too much even for him, crossed his legs and looked at you so persistently and intensely that you could practically physically feel a hole being burned inside you.

"You… wanted something, Professor?" - you ask, awkwardly playing with the sleeves of your shirt, which is unforgivably big on you.

"I'd like to know what's going on with you." - Crewel begins. - "When you first came here, I could write off your shortcomings and mistakes to the fact that you're new to this world and just adapting, but now… You've been here for two years and you still make the stupidest mistakes in my lessons." - The professor leans back in his chair, twirling his pen between his fingers. - "But you're not stupid and I know it. So the only explanation for your sloppy approach is… fatigue." - The man concludes, looking at you with either condemnation or regret, it's hard to say.

You rush to come up with empty excuses, to tell the professor that everything is fine, that nothing bothers you, that it seems to him, but he covers you up faster, before you can utter a word: - "Let me guess, a ragged parrot is unable to take care of his most valuable student?" - He sees how you immediately quiet down, confirming his point.

"I see. So, listen to me, pup." - Crewel says,a little softer than his original commanding tone. - "If you need anything, then don't be shy, come to me."

He worries about you, sincerely worries. But what angers him most is the fact that Crowley is the reason for your fatigue.

Crewel almost killed Crowley after your conversation, he was ready to rip out all the feathers of this pigeon, for the way he behaves.

Why does Crowley avoid you when he sees you next to the professor?

He will not treat you in any special way in class, at least, he thinks so.

Crewel himself does not notice how he speaks to you much more tenderly and softly than to the others. The way he unconsciously ruffles your hair like you're some little animal, the way he turns a blind eye to some stupid mistake while checking your test, for which he would mercilessly take a couple of points off if it were another student.

You like chatting with him, especially gossiping. He turns out to be a very good friend, haha. But his advice, despite all his tenderness and warmth towards you, is quite harsh and firm.

"You need to be firmer." or "Don't let them treat you like that. You're not some kind of dirty mutt, right?"

8/10 great father figure, but maybe he shouldn't coddle you in front of everyone, it's not professional! Although, who cares? 10/10.

Sam. why doesn't he have a card yet(

You stood at the counter, looking as pathetic as you could, staring at your planned purchases - tuna for Grim and a couple of packs of instant noodles. You didn't have enough money. You really didn't.

Sam could have sworn he almost burst into tears right there on the spot along with you, just from looking at your saddened face. - "Hey, hey, wait-!" Sam reaches across the counter to grab your sleeve before you can leave without buying anything. - "I'll give it to you for free!"

You blink at him, not quite sure if he's serious or not, because well… it's Sam. But he's dead serious. - "Really..?"

The man exhales, completely taken aback by your innocent charm. - "Yeah, really." - And at that moment Sam was ready to give you all the treasures of his shop, just to see how a spark of joy flashes in your eyes, how a bright, sincere smile blossoms on your lips, and how you, infinitely grateful, shower him with gratitude.

He would like to see more often how your tired face lights up with a smile.

Sam knows firsthand about your money problems, the fucking bird does not give you enough!

He is ready to offer you a part-time job in his shop.

Believe me, he will pay you much more than Crowley.

He absolutely gives you generous discounts, and when he feels especially generous, he can even give the goods for free, if it is a food item. (Just don't tell the other students, otherwise they will get even more impudent!)

Sam thinks that he can do little to help, not imagining how happy you are that you can eat something other than miserable noodles.

He's too young to be a father! At least that's what he told you. But he's willing to put up with being an older brother or a cool uncle. So 7/10 father figure, 10/10 cool uncle

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animeyanderelover · 6 months ago

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Request: Can I request for Illumi, Pakunoda, Kurapika, Feitan, Pokkle from HXH and Aki and Makima from CSM with a tragic darling? Who was cursed to have a miserable and devastating existence? Who is forced to go through horrifying tragedies over and over again? And is destined to die a horrific and miserable death either by outside force, or the yandere themselves killing them and has no way to stop it?

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, overprotective behavior, paranoia, isolation, abduction, violence, mentions of darling's death, suicidal behavior

Tags: @jamayah @chxxz @leveyani @shenryu-sama @maggiequinn59 @hyakki-yosai

S/o is cursed with a miserable life

Kurapika Kurta

⛓️It is your curse that has bought you into the clutches of Kurapika but even as you are stuck with him, your life doesn't end up being safer or more peaceful. Tragedies and accidents haunt you no matter where you hide or run to and the curse bestowed upon your life pushes Kurapika's mind quickly over the edge. His own sanity deteriorates at a rate he would have never expected as he fails over and over again to protect you from the fate that is inevitable for you. He doesn't believe your words, doesn't believe that an early death is the only outcome for your life. His eyes glow a scarlet red whenever you even utter those words as he blames you for having given up far too easily. His hunt of the Phantom Troupe is joined by a desperate pursuit for an exorcise who can remove the curse that has been cast upon you yet he is plunged into dark despair whenever they fail to shatter the fate that gets closer every day. The paranoia festers into an untamable beast as his hold on you tightens, his fear growing that one day you will slip through his fingers and he will lose you forever. Hatred, desperation and fear burn his eyes red, a colour that will forever stay with them the moment your fate catches up with you.

Pokkle

🏹It is obsession that ties Pokkle forever to you yet he has been hurt more times than he has experienced the bliss that he once daydreamed about would come with a life with just the two of you. Your fate is one of suffering and heartbreak, your time on this earth limited. Pokkle has been witness to so many horrifying accidents and tragedies you have gone through and has never left any of them without bruises and scars all because he always shields you with his body to ensure that nothing happens to you. Mentally and physically he is shot. His hair is tousled, heavy eyebags rest under his eyes and he is constantly covered in bruises and wounds all because he is more than just desperate to protect you. At night he is too terrified to even sleep, dreads that you will pass away if he allows himself even a minute of rest. His emotions are all over the place, his sleep-deprived brain unable to function. In one moment he is sobbing in your arms that you can't leave him, in the next he's chaining you up with a hysterical look in his eyes. The moment everything happens as you have always known, he will fall into a deep depression where he will neglect himself until his weak body gives up on him.

Illumi Zoldyck

🤎Illumi is someone who believes himself to be in the right to own you and control you. It is the very curse of your existence that threatens this claim that he believes himself to have. You are kept separated from the rest of the clan much like Alluka as tragedies of yours should not befall the rest of the family. Only the butlers are there to protect you from yourself and only Illumi is the one who is allowed to converse with you at all. He denies you even the freedom of speaking that everything will be useless in the end as there is on force on earth that could save you, punishes you for speaking those words. He searches everywhere for an exorcist who will be able to release you of the curse you are in yet one after the other lets him down, their constant failures only being paid with their death in return as their existence is from that moment on of no worth for Illumi. Unable to control your life like he normally always does with his needles, Illumi finds himself filled with emotions that have his focus wavering, something that has never happened before. The moment you are no more he will move on with his life yet the memory of yours will be from that day on the curse haunting him.

Feitan Portor

☠️There nothing to be gained from keeping you yet it is your defeated mindset that agitates him more than anything. It is clear that you have already given up and resigned yourself to your fate yet for Feitan this won't do. You are not allowed to wallow in self-pity whilst putting him through so much trouble. He will make you suffer somehow and if it is the last thing that he will do. Feitan refuses to give you over to your cursed fate, rebells against it as he hunts down everyone who may be able to break you free from the life that you are otherwise doomed to live. His patience is of no saint though as all threads snap whenever a failure happens and he lets out his growing frustration on those who failed his expectations. You are his. You are not allowed to die an early death that he has no control over. You aren't supposed to die already. The agitation, the helplessness, that he is put through as he slowly has to understand that there is indeed seemingly nothing he can do is guaranteed to drive him mad. Perhaps ending your life through his own hands is the only way for him to exhibit a semblance of control over your existence. It will not bring him any joy though. Only a memory to forever torment him.

Pakunoda

💘Denial will not bring you very far nor will it bring Pakunoda very far. She is quick to understand that there is nothing she is able to do after trying and failing to figure out a way or to find a person who could ensure your survival. Even with all the connections and information that she has with her own Nen abilities as well as the Phantom Troupe there is nothing that she can do nor is there anyone else out there who could do anything to help you to lead a normal life. It is this knowledge that breaks her heart. The moment she accepts that though she decides that there is no reason for her to hold back with her own obsession. Time is ticking for you after all and it is ticking fast which leaves her with no time to take everything slow with you. Your own cursed fate leads Pakunoda to the decision to not hold anything back at all and to indulge in you as long as there is still time. She will not be denied the fleeting time that you have left on this earth. She herself comes to the conclusion that she will end your life at the end herself, giving you perhaps the most merciful death that you could have gotten. She will never be able to move on nor will she allow herself to do so though.

Hayakawa Aki

💙Perhaps it is his own cursed fate that has led him to find you and has also guided him to fall in love with you. Aki's own life is marked with nothing but tragedies and failure so your fading existence seems to be the cherry on top of everything. What was he thinking, believing that he could do something right with the only person he has ever loved as intensely? Your past, your present and your future all shatter him as the facade he tries to put on so desperately around you shatters. Deep down Aki is after all still a boy who has never gotten over the pain of losing his entire family in one flashing moment. No words could describe what he is feeling as he sheds tears of frustration and fear, unable to breathe properly as he clings to you. Is this really it? Is this how your life is going to end? Is this how his life is going to end? Without a single memory that can be just happy without the stain of death and sorrow? Aki comes to genuinely hate his existence and curse whatever gods exist up there for putting him through so much, for the fact that they will even take you from him. The only thing he can do though is focus on his revenge after you are gone until he too will die full of misery and regret.

Makima

⛓️What an anomaly you are. Makima is the Control Devil, the entire premise of her very existence is that she is the conductor who manipulates everyone. Yet she cannot control you. Your life is slipping right through her hands like sand as she can't hold on to it as you are cursed to die live and die in misery. In a way you are the very embodiment of everything she wants to get rid of as a world without pain, curses and death would be the ideal world for you. As of now she still hasn't achieved that goal of hers though and your time is ticking away. Still, she expresses no visible sorrow or grief even though she knows all about your fate. She doesn't know what it feels like after all, unable to react emotionally. Instead she searches for ways to keep you alive even if she has to use nonorthodox methods that might destroy the very core of your humanity. You will dangle within her chains one way or another and she doesn't care what methods and sorcery she has to resort to. She almost revels in the sensations she feels once you pass away though her goals aren still the same. She preserves your body, keeps it as she waits for a chance to bring you back. She will not tolerate her loss of control over you.

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rcvcgers · 4 months ago

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Hello, I wanted to tell you that I love your writing. Rotten Apples has been my favorite. I was wondering if you could write something with a super caring Caleb?

I had a rough night with lots of tears and self doubt, lots of feelings of self hate and a lot of ugly feeling I’ve targeted myself with and I wish I had Caleb to soothe me. My heart aches and I need a hug from him.

i'm so sorry you had a rough night darling :( i hope you were able to feel better! i wrote this for you as soon as i saw your request. i hope it helps you feel better <3

Here For You

pairing: caleb x reader

synopsis: you've isolated yourself from the world and your boyfriend comes to comfort you.

word count: 3.08k words

content warnings: self deprecation, self doubt, bad/negative thoughts

author's note: i hope this request can help whoever reads this feel better <3 just know that you are so, so, so loved and deserve all of the good things in the world!

For the past few days, you’ve unintentionally isolated yourself from from the world. The first day the negative thoughts entered your brain, you acted as if everything was okay, that you were on top of the world. But seeing everybody else’s smiles and hearing their joyous laughter began to weigh down on you.

You wanted to be supportive of your friends and celebrate their achievements, but it was so hard to put a fake smile on your face and pretend to be excited. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t help but feel so…dull. To feel so dead inside that at moments you doubted that your existence was real. You want to be so happy, to bask in the joy of positive emotions and affirmations, and yet whenever you try, your stupid mind had to drag you back into the darkness.

You used the excuse of being sick to get out of dinner parties and hanging out. You even used a few of your sick days to get off from work, leaving your team scrambling to fill the void of you being gone.

Had life always been so hard? Why couldn’t it give you a break? Even just for one day, you wish to have some kind of release from the depression that has sunk into your body.

It’s not your fault that life is so unforgiving. Things happen, many of which are out of your control, but why did it have to affect you so badly? Did it really need to cause such chaos that uplifts you from acting like a normal person? Fuck, you haven’t even managed to shed a single tear since the negative thoughts hit your mind.

You stare at your bedroom’s blank ceiling. The sun had disappeared from the sky, its once vibrant oranges and pinks decorated your walls and ceiling, but now you were left with a deep gray color with only moonlight illuminating your room.

This had been your routine for the past week. You’d rot in bed, staring out the window as life passed you by. You watched birds flying, their freedom making you even more depressed, and watched as the sun and moon played a game of cat and mouse with each other, chasing after the other as the sky changes colors. Was it a routine you have grown bored of? Yes. Of course. But you couldn’t bring yourself to change out of it.

You wished your boyfriend was here. Caleb always knew what to do and say to help you feel better. You can’t even put some of the blame on him for not being here. His job yanked him away for a last minute patrol in the Deepspace Tunnel.

According to Caleb, it was the Fleet’s first time exploring this part of the Tunnel. You were so proud of him! The Fleet finally recognized his amazing talent and put him as the new supervising Colonel of Deepspace Exploration. He deserved it! He’s worked so hard for an opportunity like this to show up.

Yes, you knew that it would take him away for weeks at a time. If not from the actual exploring itself, Caleb will be buried in paperwork, meetings, and flight schedules.

You should have taken him up on his offer to stay in his apartment in Skyhaven. Maybe then you would have been able to see him during your dark days and he can be the hand that pulls you into safety from the storm. Instead, you opted to stay behind in Linkon, claiming that your friends and work will keep you busy!

If only you knew that the day after he left things would go oh so wrong.

Linkon wasn’t so bad, though. The sunlight was good for your mood instead of the gloomy days that Skyhaven has. The sunlight helped motivate you to get out of bed to brush your teeth and shower, but that was about it.

A sigh leaves your lips. You roll onto your side, your gaze falling back outside the window. Planes fly by in the night sky, leaving off-white trails of exhaust behind them. A wave of sadness hits your stomach while you watch the planes.

A part of you wishes that Caleb is on one of those planes…that he’s coming home to see you.

No. Why would he? He has his new promotion with the Fleet. He can’t waste any time on trivial things…including you.

You flinch from the thought. Squeezing your eyes shut, you curl up into a ball, your knees pulling up to your chest. Why did these thoughts have to torment you? You know that Caleb would give up everything to come see you, so why do you always have to be so anxious that he’s going to leave you?

You know it’s the imposter syndrome talking, but you know that you’re counting the seconds until Caleb realizes that you aren’t worthy of his time, adoration, and love. You’re a semblance of a girlfriend, someone who snuck into such a prestigious position in his life. He deserves so much better than you. Hell, he deserves someone who is just as high of a rank he is! Another Colonel, maybe, or perhaps someone who he works with so he can see her everyday.

“Pipsqueak?” You freeze. The sweet nickname he has for you sends chills down your spine. The bedroom door creaks and the sound of faint footsteps draws near. You are quick to pull the bed’s sheets over your body and head, covering the sight of moonlight and the dark night sky.

The mattress dips and you feel a large hand rest on your side. It travels up and down, cascading the side of your covered body. You shudder from the touch, knowing that you’re unworthy of such affection.

“Baby? Are you okay?” Caleb asks. He reaches for the top of the sheets, drawing them away from your face. You feel the chilled air of the bedroom hit your face. You flinch and grab the sheets back from him, covering your face once again. “Hey…what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“I’m fine…I’m just really tired,” while it isn’t necessarily a lie, you know it’s simply an excuse that he’ll see right through as he usually does. You listen to his slow exhale,, heart pounding inside your chest.

This is it. This is the moment where he finally realizes how much of a loser your are. You can’t even bring yourself to fully greet him when he comes home from work, what kind of partner are you?

“I’m,” you fake a cough, “I’m sick.”

“You’re sick?” Caleb repeats. Your heart twists inside your chest. Your eyes sting from the turmoil that bubbles inside your stomach.

“Y-Yeah…you should go back to Skyhaven so you don’t catch anything.”

You hated how easy it is to lie to him. To push him away from you.

Caleb doesn’t respond. Goosebumps spread across your body, suddenly feeling cold as you sick and twisted imagination slowly turns into a reality.

Did he finally realize that you’re nothing more than a nuisance to him?

“Hey…look at me,” Caleb coos. Your grip weakens on the sheets. The fabric slips through your fingers, eyes watching as the moonlight returns to your gaze, your handsome boyfriend sitting beside you with a look of worry, brows knitted together, bottom lip slightly pouted out.

Your heart breaks. It shatters into a million little pieces. It’s because if you that he looks this way, that he’s probably worried over nothing. Tears brim your eyes. Caleb sighs and his shoulders relax, watching as you slowly sit up in bed.

You sniffle and wipe your nose with the back of your hand. Your bottom lip trembles. The man reaches out and cups your face.

His touch is so gentle against your skin. Warmth seeps into your skin but it only makes you feel worse. Your body begins to shake. Caleb’s violet eyes scan your body, gently wrapping his free arm around your back. He pulls you into his lap with such ease, guiding your legs to rest on his sides, placing your full weight onto him.

Your melt into his touch, arms wrapping around sides, fingers curling into his shirt, tugging on the material. You bury your face into his neck, the tears finally leaving your eyes.

“It’s okay…I’m here now, let it all out.”

And you do. Sobs escape your body. Your body shakes and you push into him, the man gently running his hand up and down your back, soothing you. He holds the back of your head, securing you to his body. Your tears stain his t-shirt, soaking it with your salty tears.

You shake your head, unable to control how tight you hold onto him. His scent is so comforting to you, your nose burying into the warm skin of his neck to get more of it. It calms your nerves alongside his light and comforting touch.

“I’m so sorry,” you choke the words out, “I don’t know why I’m like this.”

“Never apologize for how you feel, my love,” Caleb gives you a gentle and reassuring squeeze. You sigh and peel your face from his neck, finally getting a good look of him.

He wears the biggest frown on his face as he pushes stray hairs out of your face. Your cheeks are stained form your tears, eyes red and swollen form the onslaught of sibs that overtook your body. Caleb runs his fingers up and down your sides.

“Breathe with me, okay?” Caleb asks. You nod in sync with him. He places his hand over your chest, feeling your heart pounding from inside your ribcage.

The two of you inhale for a couple seconds then hold the breath, your lungs full of oxygen, then slowly exhale. Under Caleb’s touch, he can feel your heart come to a slow and steady beat. A small smile spreads across his face, his purple eyes meeting yours.

“I’m so proud of you,” Caleb whispers. He leans in and presses a light kiss to your forehead. You sigh and rest your hands on his chest, flattening out some of the wrinkles in the fabric. You stare at the wet spot on his clothes and frown, feeling absolutely horrible that you ruined his clothes. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Your gaze floats back to his, his hands firmly holding onto your waist. You sigh and look away, unable to weave words together to form a rational sentence that doesn’t make you look, well, crazy.

How can you explain to your boyfriend that your mind has caused so much chaos and turmoil? That it has you believing that you aren’t good enough for anyone in the world, especially him. That he deserves so much better than what you have to offer him.

“Hey,” Caleb’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. He cups your cheek and swipes away a single tear that rolls down your cheek. “Stop thinking. Clear your mind.”

You nod and slowly inhale, needing to calm down your fast beating heart. Your mind doesn’t clear, though, and only becomes more and more loud as the thoughts of self doubt and negativity scream at you.

“What are five things you see?” Caleb asks.

“What?” You’re taken aback by his question. He squeezes your hips.

“Tell me five things you see. Be descriptive.”

“Um…okay,” you breathe out. Your eyes leave his as you scan the room. You turn in his grip, looking out the window behind you. “I see the moon. It’s big and yellow tonight. Looks like cheese.”

“That’s one.” You feel Caleb press a gentle kiss to your shoulder. You turn back around, heart fluttering.

“I see my desk. It’s…really messy. I should clean it up.”

“That��s two…and I’ll clean it for you tomorrow. What else?”

“Through the bedroom door, I can see the kitchen light is still on. I see…I see bags on the counter, too.” You look at Caleb, his thumbs slowly rubbing small circles into your skin under your shirt. “I see the most beautiful purple eyes, too.”

“Oh?” Caleb raises his eyebrows, smiling at you. You nod. He kisses your cheek and you melt into him yet again. “Ready to tell me what’s wrong now?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong, Caleb,” you breathe out, slowly growing frustrated. You press your forehead against his and squeeze his shoulders. “My mind just…hates me. I don’t know what happened, but an overwhelming sense of dread came over me and…and I began to hate myself,” your voice cracks.

Tears return to your eyes and Caleb is quick to wipe them away. You manage to keep your breathing in check, making sure to not lose the sense of calm that soothes your aching body. Your glaze flickers back to Caleb’s and you sigh, gnawing at the inside of your cheek.

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” your voice is just above a whisper. “You don’t deserve to go through this…you deserve someone who’s normal and good enough.”

“No,” Caleb immediately shakes his head. His own eyes become glossy from your admission. “Don’t you ever say those words ever again, do you understand?”

Your brows furrow, meeting in the center. Your hands slip from his body but he takes them back, placing them back onto his chest. He moves his head to meet your fleeting gaze, capturing your attention. He places his finger under your chin, turning your face back forward.

“I love you…I love you so much more than you can ever imagine. If anyone here isn’t deserving, it’s me. I don’t deserve to be in a relationship with you because you, my love, are lightyears better than I will ever be.”

“Caleb…” you breathe his name out. You hang onto every word he says, heart swelling.

“You are the most beautiful woman to ever exist. I love your smile, your laugh, and the way you always make me happy. I also love you when you aren’t feeling good. I love you and your frown and the way you manage to look so beautiful while crying…you’re the one for me. Nobody else,” he pulls your hand over his heart. You can feel just how hard and fast it pumps inside his chest.

“You don’t mean that…”

“Of course I do. From the first moment I met you, I knew that you were the one for me. On that day, I swore to myself that I would do everything in my power to protect you, to keep you safe…it pains me to know that I couldn’t protect you from yourself. I’m so sorry,” his voice cracks.

His grip on you tightens. His touch and words are so reassuring that you manage to push away the dark thoughts that linger in your mind.

Caleb loves you. He loves you so much. It is evident in the way he holds you, the way he kisses your tears away. You can feel it in the warmth that radiates from his body. Caleb makes you feel so worthy of his love, his adoration.

“Everyone has bad days,” he tilts his head to the side, his gaze deepening, “and that’s okay. It’s normal to have a bad week. It’s normal to want to crawl away and disappear. It’s okay to cry and to ask for help when it feels like you’re drowning,” Caleb coos. “Please…please tell me when you need help. I will always be here to pick you up off your feet. I will always be here to carry the weight that forms on your shoulders. I will do anything for you if it means that I get to see you smile again…that I get to live under the sunlight of your beautiful soul. I love you.”

“I love you too, Caleb,” tears roll down your cheeks. They’re bittersweet, formed from both sadness and joy.

The darkness that settled in the back of your mind vanishes. You can feel the weight leave your chest, opening up your lungs for more air to get in, to nourish your body. Caleb pulls you close to him, burying his face into your neck. His lips scrape across your skin, leaving a trail of sweet and gentle kisses in his wake.

His fingers slip under your shirt. The sensation of his skin against yours leaves you feeling so fulfilled. You love the way he treats you, how he always makes for sure that you know just how loved you are. He takes care of you. It’s so much more than you could have ever asked for.

What did you do to deserve a man like Caleb?

“Have you eaten yet today?” Caleb asks. You shake your head no, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer into your embrace. “Come on, I stopped at the store on the way here. Let me make you some dinner.”

Caleb picks you up with ease. You gasp and cling to him, a quiet laugh escaping your lips. His head shoots out from your neck, eyes wide as a big smile flashes across his face.

“You laughed!” He swoons, leaning back in to attack your face in more kisses, leaving no part of your face untouched. You close your eyes and shriek, more and more giggles fleeing from your lips while he carries you to the kitchen. “My pip-squeak is laughing! She’s happy again! My babygirl has come back to me!”

“Stop being do dramatic, Caleb!” Your laughter melts away the sadness in your heart and mind. You feel light again, ready to take on the world with Caleb at your side.

“Okay! Okay!” He laughs and pulls his face out from your neck. Caleb beams at you, setting you down on the cold countertop. You gasp and he’s quick to pull you up, resting his hands underneath your legs to protect you from the icy counter.

“What?” You ask, waving your hand in front of his face. He shifts his weight between his feet and leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips. You lean into him and kiss him back, butterflies erupting your chest. He slightly pulls away, lips grazing over yours, foreheads pressed together.

“I love you, pip-squeak, but I am going to need my hands for cooking,” he chuckles.

“I love you too...can I be your sous chef?”

“Are you kidding? Of course you can be my sous chef! Who else would I want by my side?”

masterlist of works

#lads caleb #caleb x reader #caleb love and deepspace #lads #love and deepspace #rcvcgers requests #rcvcgers writings

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ohtobeleah · 6 months ago

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Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Epilogue: Part One [Boulevard of Broken Dreams]

Summary: You received a call you and Bradley Bradshaw have been waiting on for what felt like a decade. Jakes mother causes a scene as worry consumes you. And does Jake want the very thing that put him in the hospital in the first place?

Warnings: Jake Seresin Whump. Mentions of Religion. F!reader x Jake Seresin. Angst, Mother-in-law issues. F-18 crash. Bad Medical representation.

Word Count: 6.2k

Author Note: EEEPPPPP we're almost there. this is the chapter EVERYONE has been waiting for. Just what the hell is going on! Please don't forget to let me know what you think.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

December 23rd

Your genetic makeup, the genes that you inherit from your parents, determines who you are biologically. They’re your blueprint so to speak. Everything from your eye colour to your height to your laugh. Even some diseases like asthma, diabetes, and various cancers.

But who you are at the core of it all goes far beyond your genetic makeup. Who you really are is the result of many, many things: How you deal with fear. Who you surround yourself with. And how you show up when it matters most.

The sea breeze was a gentle reminder of how quickly life could change in the blink of an eye. As you walked along the sand with small, barely there waves lapping at your ankles, the sight of families running after beach umbrellas and holding down sandy towels after the sudden gust of wind came through and caused a disturbance, really made you smile. Smiles were a treasure that was few and far between. It had been for months.

The somewhat sunny day was shrouded in the unknown. Chronic winds continued to wreak havoc on unsuspecting families just trying to enjoy their weekend. A storm was brewing off the coast. But for you, something much more life-altering was wreaking havoc. Something all-encompassing and certifiably depressing was eating away at your soul.

Your boyfriend and the love of your life had been severely injured in a work accident just over two months ago. His mother is certifiably insane and clearly doesn’t like you even existing on the same planet as her son… and his best friend hasn’t left you alone in what felt like a century.

But who were you to compare tragedies on this fine, sunny day?

“There you are!” The second you heard that agitating, grading voice, you rolled your eyes so hard you could have fallen into the shallows. The flightless bird you knew as Bradley Bradshaw was racing after you, making his presence known along the shore as he ran to catch up. “God, you had me worried for a second there. I was talking to Sue for like five seconds and you were just gone.”

“Some bodyguard you are,” you huffed as Bradley finally caught up to you. It wasn’t that you didn't like Rooster, it was more about the fact he felt obligated to keep an eye on you given the circumstances. “How is Sue anyway?”

“Uh–” Bradley looked back over his shoulder hesitantly to see the woman he’d been dating for the last few weeks walking away. “I don’t think we'll be seeing Sue much anymore.” It was all the explanation you needed. And if you were to be completely honest you didn’t blame the women. Who wants to fight for attention with a man whose sole responsibility these days was to keep his best friend's unborn children safe?

“You should be paying more attention to the women you’re trying to sleep with you know,” you replied as you kept walking down the pristine beach. The place that had become a home away from home. “I’ve told you, I don’t need a babysitter. We’re good, I promise.”

It had been an unspoken understanding since meeting Jake’s wingman that Rooster would look after you if anything were ever to happen to Jake. It went both ways for the two aviators from hell. Although at times the pair couldn’t be in the same room as one another without starting World War Three, it was a given that they would always be there for the other’s loved ones. It was brotherhood in its finest and rawest form.

But it was driving you mad.

“Jake wouldn’t–” Bradley tried to explain, but you’d heard this explanation too many times by this point. So much so you could finish Rooster’s sentence for him.

“‘Jake wouldn’t forgive you if something were to happen to me’, I know I know,” you huffed again. Your right hand came down to rest across your growing bump. Two little souls were currently using your internal system as their personal development grove. Two little Seresin babies that were as unexpected as they were blessed— or at least, to you. “But you– for as much as I appreciate everything you have and will continue to do for us Rooster– are driving me insane.”

“Too bad,” couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled you into his side. His arm slung over your shoulders before you could even protest his actions. “You’re Jake’s girl and Jake’s not here so therefore I gotta do what I gotta do and that my dear Y/n–” Bradley paused for a second before he continued just like the small waves that lapped at your ankles. Fear threatened to overcome Rooster’s nervous system. Yet, fending off fight or flight mode, he continued. Playing the role you needed him to be: Caregiver brick wall extraordinaire. “---Is to be right here, by your side, until that idiot wakes up.”

They say time heals most wounds. And for the majority of people that saying is pretty spot on. But for Jake Seresin, that hadn’t been the case. Jake had been in an induced coma for weeks after his near-death accident. The experienced aviator was no match for the panic attack that took him hostage mid-training exercise. His body currently lay battered, burnt and bruised in the Miramar Base Hospital in the intensive care unit. His soul remained trapped inside the mind you sometimes hated to love and loved to hate.

And when Doctors tried to wake him from the state they’d put him into in order to heal…he didn’t wake up.

That was back in November…It was now approaching Christmas Day and still, there was no sign of Jake waking from his coma. He’d battled and fought what seemed like everything the world could throw at him: Broken bones. Third-degree burns. A swollen brain. Organ damage. Pneumonia. You name it and Jake had battled it.

He was a fighter. Someone who was going to fight until he had nothing left. Doctors assured you there was brain activity. A good indication of a recovery.

But when he would wake was entirely up to him…

“Some idiot huh?” you teased playfully at your boyfriend’s expense. But the reality of the situation was that with every passing day, with every complication or turn of events, you missed Jake more and more. “He’s coming out the other side of the phenomena though, which is a good sign.”

Bradley walked by your side as the two of you debriefed about what the day would bring. First, you needed to shower and change into something that wasn’t kissed by the salty air of the beach you liked to walk along every morning. It helped you clear your head from all the noise. Since Jake’s accident, your head hadn’t been quiet. Voices echoed all day long inside your mind about what you could be doing better, more of. What you could have done differently.

Sometimes those voices would grow louder and stronger the longer you tried to avoid them. However, averting your gaze and pretending the voices didn’t exist was a harder task than first thought…especially when the voices that escaped your mind were coming from Jake’s mother.

That self-proclaimed holier than thou mother fu—

Next, you needed to eat something. You hadn’t had much of an appetite your entire pregnancy. Bradley liked to think it was because of the additional stress Jake’s hospitalisation had caused. You knew he’d say something if you didn’t at least try to consume something of substance.

And finally, to you, the most important part of the list of to-do’s, was to get over to Miramar Base Hospital and see the man who’d captivated your entire heart. The goal every day besides growing two human lives was to be by Jake's side.

Even if at the end of the day the result of all this turmoil and trauma was a breakup you knew his mother was already actively praying for, you’d still be able to say you weren’t the one who walked away.

“Come on,” Bradley gently placed his arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get outta here. I’m sure Jake’s waiting for us.”

“His mother will be there,” you said without hesitation. There was a frustrated sadness in your voice. A longing for privacy. A declaration for peace. You knew Bradley was aware of the hostile relationship between the two of you, he'd been present for a few altercations. But you also knew he was right and Jake would want you there if you could be. And it was a could-be day. For both you and Rooster. “I was thinking maybe we could go a little later in the day, give her some time alone–”

“Y/n?”

Yeah?” You knew what was coming, it felt like the two of you had had this same exact conversation every day for the past four weeks.

“You’re the mother of Jake’s soon-to-be twins. He’d want you there more than Janise.”

“It’s Janeen, Roo,” you grinned to yourself as you looked down at your growing bump with a loving hand resting over your belly button. “And Hell would probably freeze over before she realises that.”

“I thought you weren’t a religious person?” Rooster frowned momentarily as he searched his brain for any conversational remarks he may have missed in passing that would have led him to forget your religious values. He wasn’t a God-loving man himself, but there had to be something out there, right?

“I’m not.” You had never followed a religion or its practices, but the longer the love of your life remained in a coma after sustaining life-threatening injuries, the more you were open to whatever religious being extended a helping hand first. Including but not limited to Satan. You’d sell your soul in a heartbreak to bring Jake back. “But a girl can dream, can’t she?”

Your non-religious self-awareness was the deciding factor when it came to Janeen not accepting you. Ever since Jake had brought you home to his parents one winter break back in your college days, you knew it was a battle not worth fighting.

You were the girl who got away. The rogue agent. The true crime writer with an appetite for knowledge and literature. Jake was the aspiring college football star turned Naval Aviator.

Jake broke it off in the spring before he went to basic. You wanted roots and stability he at the time couldn’t offer. He was off to see the world and the world would be his oyster. You couldn’t stand in the way of that no matter how much you believed Jake Seresin was the one for you.

You knew Janeen was over the moon with joy and delight that her precious boy had come home to his faith and exiled the woman who was leading him down a road of treacherous sin.

Get the fuck outta here.

It wasn’t until about a year or so ago that you and Jake reconnected after he’d come back from a mission that had him staring death right in the face and questioning what he had to look back on.

All he saw was you in that library at college smiling across at him while explaining that Christmas was fake. Something his mother would have burnt him at the stake for believing.

So, Jake called. And like a love-sick loser, you came running from across the country. Rhode Island was your home, but wherever Jake Seresin was in the world was where your heart would be.

“I bet she cries herself to sleep at night more over the fact you and Hangman are having children out of wedlock than she cries over the fact he nearly died,” Bradley growled.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” you replied as a gust of wind picked up a beach umbrella in the distance. “I’m something straight out of the book of the damned, Bradshaw. The idea of us having a child together, let alone twins, took twenty years off her life.”

“Jake would have loved to see her face when you told her,” Bradley chuckled. Then he cleared his throat and did his best to steer the conversation back on track. “We still have to go to the hospital.”

Reluctantly, you agreed. “Fine, but you’re taking me to get a muffin from Bells Bakery first,” you said all the while Rooster rolled his eyes. You knew he couldn’t say no. How do you say no to a pregnant lady who just wants a sweet little treat before spending hours in the same room as your comatose boyfriend and his overbearingly religious mother? You don’t. You don’t say no, you simply nod in agreement.

*************************

Every disease has its unique course it takes in the body when left untreated. The process begins with exposure to a root cause that sends a ripple effect throughout the body. The disease then progresses, ultimately resolving in one of three possible outcomes…

You get better, you stay chronically ill, or you die.

The weather had taken a drastic turn since you and Rooster left the beach earlier that morning. The slightly overcast and windy day brought in a nice north-easterly storm. Rain was the only thing that filled the silence as you sat waiting patiently. You caught yourself thinking of what you’d give to hear Jake’s voice before the new year.

The carefully cultivated interior design of Bradley’s Bronco was something straight out of every single bachelor’s wet dream. This car was what you expected the inside of his soul to look like. And if you were to ever become anything like Jake’s Mother, you’d think this car would be Bradley’s version of a perfect heaven.

Then, like a premonition, your phone rang, splitting the quiet like lightning through a dark sky.

"Hi, Y/n,” Doctor Hughes sounded rather cheerful as you sat in the passenger seat of Bradley’s Bronco.

“It appears that our dear friend is waking up," his voice was urgent but steady. For a moment, your mind stumbles, caught between disbelief and hope. Then you’re moving — grabbing keys, kicking on your sandals, heart pounding louder than an engine roaring to life.

“Rooster?” you whispered as you clambered out of the parked Bronco. The curb hated to see a Bradshaw coming. “I’ll be there as soon as I can!” You awkwardly spoke into your phone before hanging up without hesitation. There was no time to waste on small talk. Jake was waking up.

The world outside blurred into streaks of light and shadow as you walked as fast as you could, each passing second stretched thin by desperation. Memories flashed — hospital visits, whispered promises, tear-soaked prayers, or whatever bullshit Jake’s mother insisted on mumbling.

“Rooster!?” you yelled as panic, fear, and anxiety overcame your nervous system. “Bradshaw?” you yelled once more as you entered the small locally owned bakery..

“Hey, what’s wrong? I just ordered a coffee to go and your apple cinnamon muffin.,” Rooster could tell by the look on your face and how sickly you looked that something had happened. “Is the Bronco okay?”

The fact that was the first thing his mind jumped to angered you to no end. “Yes, the fucking Bronco is fine, you idiot,” you sighed as your belly felt heavy with two Seresin children, a nervous shit, and impending vomit. “Jake’s waking up.”

“No way, who called?” Bradley kicked into fifth gear before your eyes as he ushered you out of the cafe without his coffee or your muffin.

“Rooster, our order?” you protested as he barrelled out of the cafe with your shoulders in his hands. “Hold up!”

“We gotta go, you wanna be there when he wakes up, don’t you?” Rooster asked, thinking the answer you’d give him would be a straight-up “yes”. There shouldn’t have been any other answer. But the longer you stood still not answering, Bradley knew something was eating away at you. “Y/n, why are you being weird about this? He’s okay, everything’s gonna be alright.”

“What if he doesn’t want this?” your eyes welled with tears in the middle of the walkway. “What if he doesn’t want me? What if…what if he doesn’t want the ki–our kids?”

Surgical intervention doesn’t always work when it comes to disease. Sometimes, despite best efforts, the disease wins. It takes over our cells one-by-one…until the damage can no longer be reversed. When that happens, all you can do is take the loss and move on. But when you can change the course of someone’s disease, you can change the course of their life. It’s enough to make you want to come back for more.

“Oh, Y/n, no,” Bradley cooed as he drew you in for a much-needed hug. “Jake’s a lot of things, and he’s done a lot of stupid things, but giving you up all those years ago was his biggest mistake,” Rooster reminded you as the tears you cried stained his T-shirt. Your face was buried in his chest. A chest that had soaked up far too many of your tears these last few weeks. “I know there’s a lot of unknowns, but if there’s one thing I know for sure it’s that Jake’s never gonna let you guys go. I promise you.”

“He didn’t want the baby before he–” You couldn’t finish your sentence without breaking out into an all-out wail. Bradley held you tighter than he ever had before. He didn’t know what you hadn’t told him. And what you hadn’t told him was the whole truth…

The whole truth was that Jake’s accident had been your fault. Or so it felt like it.

“Hey, hey, you’re good,” Rooster tried his best to soothe your soul all the while the lady who’d taken his order before kindly brought it out. He was sure to thank her silently over your shoulder as she placed the muffin in its brown paper bag and his takeaway coffee on the bench. “Whatever happened before all this, I’m sure it’s gonna work out. Jake loves you so much,” Rooster beamed as he rubbed your back. “He’s not letting you or these kiddos go.”

**********************

As the Bronco sped down the rain-slick streets, tires hissing against the wet pavement, Bradley’s hands gripped the steering wheel as tight as possible. His knuckles were white with tension. You sat anxiously in the passenger seat, phone clenched tightly in your hands, replaying the call from Dr. Hughes in your mind over and over again like a broken Rolexes that held only one memory.

"It appears that our dear friend is waking up,” Jensen Hughes, Jake’s primary doctor who had been with him since the first day he was brought into the hospital, had said. The words echoed in your head, filling your mind, body, and soul with equal parts hope and fear.

"We’re almost there," Bradley muttered, more to himself than to you. His jaw was set, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. His best friend was waking up from a coma he never really thought he’d come out of. He’d been looking after you and his unborn children since the accident. Jake had missed so much and nothing all at the same time.

"He’s strong. He’s been fighting this whole time." You reached over, resting a hand on his arm. Bradley nodded in return but didn’t speak. The memories of countless nights spent at Jake’s bedside haunted you both. Each mile seemed endless, stretched by the weight of anticipation.

The hospital's glowing sign finally appeared through the rain-streaked windshield. Bradley exhaled sharply, parking the car with a jerky halt. Without another word, you both dashed toward the entrance, hearts pounding, ready to see Jake — ready to hope again.

**********************

The elevator doors opened with a subdued ding as you and Rooster stepped into the hushed hospital hallway. The dim overhead lights cast a pale glow, reflecting off the sterile white walls. Neither of you spoke as you walked toward Jake’s room. Both too anxious to say anything that could jeopardise this significant moment in Jake’s recovery.

As you approached the familiar door, you hesitated. Your breath hitched in your throat. Bradley gently squeezed your hand, grounding you in the moment. You felt like you were going to be sick. Your twins pressed on every vital organ they had shoved to whatever side they could to make room for themselves. Here you were, Jake Seresin’s pregnant girlfriend, about to see him awake for the first time in what felt like a decade. Rounding the final corner, you saw the familiar door, slightly ajar, light spilling into the hallway. For a moment, neither of you moved, overwhelmed by hope and fear intertwined.

"We’re here," Bradley whispered, his voice steady though his eyes betrayed the weight of his worry.

As you pushed the door open, you were met with the soft beeping of the heart monitor and the steady whoosh of the ventilator. Jake lay still, his face pale but peaceful, lost in the depths of his coma. His mind was a world away, carried off into the subconscious. His body was the only remaining evidence to suggest he was still with you.

Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill as you stepped closer. Why were you expecting him to be awake and alert? Wishing thinking once again overcomplicated your usually realistic outlook on how things worked in this world. Perhaps it had been the way Doctor Hughes spoke to you on the phone. Or maybe it was the pregnancy hormones that allowed for more hopeful endings. Either way, neither explanation added up to the expectation you had set.

"Hey, Jake... it’s us," you whispered, voice trembling. Bradley pulled a chair close and ushered you to sit beside the bed.

"We’re not going anywhere," he said firmly. "You hear me? We’re right here." Resting a hand on Jake’s forearm, Rooster was quick to let his wingman know he was there. The room remained silent except for the rhythmic beeping, but neither of you moved, holding onto hope with every passing second.

“We heard what you’ve been up to while we’ve been gone, baby,” you cooed softly as you stroked Jake’s cheek gently, taking in the sight of his peacefully unaware self. “And we don’t plan on going anywhere until we get to see those beautiful eyes of yours.”

“What’s going on here?” The familiar voice made your heart sink into your stomach as you tried to get as comfortable as you could in the world’s most uncomfortable hospital chair. Janeen stood in the doorway with a fresh coffee from the cafe downstairs in her aging hand. Her nails, manicured to perfection, clutched around the paper cup so much so that you swore the scolding hot liquid would burst through the weakened structure. “Did something happen? Why the urgency to not go anywhere?”

“Did–” you paused for a second as you allowed yourself to sink a little further into your chair with a protective hand strewn across your ever-growing baby bump. “Did anyone call you?”

“Why would anyone call me when I’m already here, silly girl.” Janeen scoffed as she walked further into Jake’s room. A room that had been his for weeks. A room that your mother had helped you decorate with Christmas lights and decorations as the season approached with every passing day. A bleak, barren hospital room was no place for a soul full of such joy and fun and high-octane energy. Jake deserved more than white walls and sterile floors.

“Right, my bad for asking,” you sighed as Rooster rolled his eyes discreetly and tried to hide his disdain for his best friend’s mother. A mother he knew Jake wasn’t so fond of either. Especially when it came to you.

“Jane!” Rooster beamed as he broke the tension. “Long time no see. How long has it been?” Bradley smiled as he shot you a cheeky look of mischief. This was who Rooster was at his very core. A shit-stirring moustache-having gold star kid. The best there was. He’d been a rock for you during this whole ordeal. There had never been a moment these past few months where you hadn’t been able to cry on Rooster’s shoulder or vent to him in full confidence that everything you said would stay with him and only him.

“I saw you yesterday, son,” Janeen replied sternly, not a single hint of amusement in her tone. Yet, Rooster continued with his antics. He knew well enough by now to know if he kept going, Janeen would cut you some slack. Rooster had been an on-and-off fixture in the Seresin household for years. Ever since Jake and Bradley met in the academy. And boy did Janeen Seresin have a soft spot for the man who grew up without parents or any sort of guiding light. She saw real potential in the Bradshaw kid. If he just applied himself to God, he could be one of his finest soldiers.

“Really? I’d never forget seeing you! Are you sure it was yesterday? I heard dementia is kinda contagious in these sorts of environments,” Bradley grinned as he pulled the shorter, aging woman with that signature older mother smell into him for a hug. He was sure to send you a wink over her head.

You had to stuff the boisterous laugh that threatened to spill from your mouth right back down into the depths of your stomach before World War Three could erupt right here in Jake’s hospital room. To be perfectly honest though, you wouldn’t be opposed to that diagnosis. Perhaps then you’d have somewhat of a chance at developing some sort of relationship with the grandmother of your children. Even if each and every day brought a new personality and memory bank. Oh, a girl could dream.

“Y/n, be a dear and get me a chair will you?” If you weren’t already sitting down, you would have fallen over with shock.

“Oh, I can do that,” Bradley quickly jumped into action, not wanting you to get up. “I’ll go get you one, I’ll be right back.” He grinned at Janeen before sending you a worrying look of concern. A look that didn’t necessarily look the best on him. “Don’t–just don’t kill each other while I’m gone, alright?”

“Scouts honour,” you held your hand up as if you were swearing on the bible. Something you’d never actually do. But as Janeen looked over at where you were sitting, she nodded in agreement.

“Right, I’ll be right back,” Bradley groaned hesitantly as he left the room. Leaving an unconscious and comatose Jake to fend for himself. “Sorry pal, she’s your mother,” he mumbled to himself as he shook his head and continued out of sight. The second Rooster was gone…it was on for young and old.

“I’ve organised a paternity test for when you have the babies–” Janeen informed you like it wasn’t the worst insult you’d ever heard.

“Excuse me?” you replied rather harshly as you sat up in your chair. In what world would these not be Jake’s children? How was this happening right now? How was she doing this when Jake was slowly waking up from his endless sleep?

“You heard me,” Jeneen smirked. “I need to protect my son,” For a woman who preached about being God’s seeing eye, she really was doing the devil’s work.

“Your son should have listened in sex-ed a little more.” You knew even the mention of sex would have Janeen’s skin crawling. Sex out of wedlock! How dare you, how would you ever be cleansed of your sins? “Are you being serious right now Janeen?”

“I almost lost him once!” Jake’s mother raised her voice as she stepped closer to his bedside, taking in the sight of her grown, adult child. “I’m not losing him again and certainly not to some wannabe writer who wants to live off my son’s achievements.”

“Almost doesn’t matter because almost never happened,” you made sure to say before you went on to unleash a declaration of war against your not-so-mother-in-law. “But I can guarantee if you try and destroy this family before it has a chance to grow, so help whatever God you believe in bitch…I’ll burn your entire life to the ground and smile when I watch the millions of dollars you put into that ranch burn too.”

“You vindictive girl.” Janeen had nothing else to say from the other side of Jake’s hospital bed.

“Don’t threaten my family and I won’t threaten yours.” It was the only warning you were ever going to give.

“He’s my son!” Janeen shouted as Bradley made his wake back down the hall with a chair in hand.

“And he’s my hu–”

You couldn’t finish your sentence. With so many hormones and emotions coursing through your veins, you slipped. Jake wasn’t your husband. He wasn’t your fiance. He was your boyfriend. And for as much as you wanted to marry the man lying in that hospital bed after nearly losing his life, you knew that question was far from being asked. If it were ever to be asked. Jake Seresin had grown up watching his parents hate each other…he’d made it clear marriage was something he wasn’t interested in. Why would he be when he spent his childhood listening to his mother beg his father to fix some stupid faucet that never did get fixed?

Why would Jake ever be interested in marriage when he could remember the intervention his grandfather gave his dad at their wedding, something about it wasn’t too late to back out. Hell, why would Jake be interested in marriage when he watched his father fall out of love so hard with his mother that she never really clued him in on her battle with breast cancer? Jake grew up under the guidance of God and his almighty word…

But the way his father had treated his mother throughout Jake’s life had truly left a sour taste in his mouth. And if Jake, through biological design, was anything like his dad…he was never going to put himself in a position where he could emulate any sort of resemblance to his father.

Trauma am I right? (He’d told you so much about his childhood.)

“Honey, you’re nothing more than an incubator,” Janeen hissed with a wicked smirk plastered across her face. “He’s my son, and my son knows better than to allow himself to stoop as low as ending up with someone like you.”

“I thought I told you two not to kill each other?” Rooster tried to intervene as he placed the chair down beside where Janeen stood. He’s never seen you look so worked up. So angry. So hurt.

“Janeen.” You took a deep breath in and closed your eyes. “When I have these children, Jake’s children, if I have it my way you will never see them. You will never get to know them do you hear me? No God or religion or wackadoodle fucking beliefs you have will ever help you have a relationship with my children because if you can’t look me in the fucking eye and see what your son sees in me then I’m not entertaining any sort of relationship with you.”

“If they’re really my grandbabies then you can’t keep them from seeing their family–”

“She’s their mother, Jane, I don’t think you have much say in the matter,” Rooster sided with you as politely as he could. He wasn’t going to be the one to point out that Jake's fingers were twitching either.

“Better start praying really hard Janeen,” you chuckled, knowing that although you didn’t win this battle, you’d win the war. “Maybe Rooster will bring back a pillow for your knees,” you teased, a little out of line but it was so worth the look of horror on her face. “You’ll be on them for a hell of a long time.”

**********************

The roar of twin afterburners pierced the sky as Jake pushed his F-18 Super Hornet through a steep climb. The clear blue expanse stretched endlessly above, the ground a distant memory. This was his element—a place where skill and instinct defined survival. Still, the only thing on his mind when he should have been focusing on controlling a multimillion-dollar piece of military equipment was you. You were pregnant. Jake was going to be a father.

He should have listened to you when you said the two of you could talk about it after he got home from work. He never should have pressed you for more information. But Jake had and the second the words came out of your mouth, he heard nothing else after the words “I’m pregnant Jake–we’re gonna have a baby.”

He wasn’t ready to be a dad. A father. Being a dad was the last thing Jake thought he should ever be. He wasn’t raised to procreate. He shouldn’t be responsible for another human being. If Jake was even an ounce like his own father, that kid, that poor fetus growing inside you as he raced through the sky, was about to have one hell of a childhood. It wasn’t even just having a baby that terrified him. How was Jake meant to teach this kid right from wrong when he was still learning that himself?

“What if I told you that I wasn’t sure if I wanted kids, but I want you?” Jake knew the second that the question left his lips…that it hadn’t come out the way it should have. But the reality was he had said it, and the look in your hopeful eyes quickly shattered and was replaced with a reluctance to continue with the conversation.

Self-doubt radiated off Jake like his life force was fading. Today's training was a high-intensity combat simulation over the rugged terrain of Redstone Valley. Jake and Rooster were executing advanced dogfighting maneuvers against an elite training squadron. Every turn, every roll, every burst of speed was a calculated dance of power and precision.

"Bandit on your six!" Bradshaw’s urgent voice crackled through Jake's headset.

His wingman had questioned him earlier in the day about what had him so uptight. Jake hadn’t been himself today, he knew that much for sure. But that was because he couldn’t stop thinking about you and the very fact you were pregnant with his child. A child created out of love and endless passion. But that wasn’t enough to make Jake want to be a father after being so sure for so many of his adult years that he wasn’t supposed to be a father. “Hangman! Get your arse into gear man!”

Jake yanked the stick hard left, pulling into a sharp barrel roll. The G-forces slammed him into his seat as he broke away, narrowly avoiding the pursuing jet's simulated missile lock. His pulse raced, his adrenaline surged as his heart beat against his cheat so hard he swore he was having a heart attack…

Suddenly, the cockpit warning system blared—a mechanical shriek of impending doom. "ENGINE FAILURE—LEFT ENGINE!" flashed across the Heads-Up Display.

"Mayday, mayday, this is Viper One, experiencing critical engine failure. Attempting emergency procedures," Jake radioed, his voice steady despite the rising tension. The heart attack he swore he was having was a full-blown panic attack. Jake couldn’t catch his breath long enough to maintain focus. “Fuck, Rooster! I’m going down! Mayday–mayday!” Children’s laughter filled the cockpit as Jake spiralled out of control.

“JAKE! EJECT EJECT EJECT!” Bradley shouted frantically through the coms. He watched on in pure horror as one of the best aviators he knew plummeted to earth without much control. “HANGMAN EJECT!”

“Tell Y/n I love her–” was the last communication that Bradley received before Jake frantically gave up his battle with the controls to pull his chute.

Much like Rooster’s late father, Jake’s emergency exit hadn’t gone according to plan. The roar of the F-18's engines screamed in Jake's ears as the warning lights flashed across the cockpit. Smoke billowed from the right engine, as his aircraft trembled violently.

As Jake pulled his emergency chute, he was propelled into the sky as his F-18 was engulfed in flames so hot the heat melted his uniform into his skin. If he’d waited even one second more he would have been a goner. The emergency exit did little to stop the dramatic fall from grace Jake was experiencing. He plummeted unconscious from the sky towards the burning pile of rubble that was, just a few seconds ago, his Super Hornet.

The ground felt like solid concrete as Jake slammed into the side of the valley, bones shattered on impact as Rooster watched on in utter agony. His helmet did little to cushion the impact, although that was its intended purpose. Emergency services had already been sent out to Jake’s last known location… but there was little that could be done for Jake as he lay in a twisted pile of his emergency parachute. Blood stained his flight suit as his body began to shut down.

He was dying, but the laughter of children filled the silence like sunlight filtering through leaves—light, spontaneous, and full of love.

**********************

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream

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@jessicab1991 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog

@a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30 @accioprocrastination

@the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @athenabarnes @eternallyvenus @emma8895eb @kmc1989 @avengersgirllorianna

#was it over? // jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #tw: cancer #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin whump #jake seresin #maverick top gun

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varyajc · 11 months ago

Text

UNHEALTHY BEHAVIORS(?) THE HASHIRA HAVE

Pillars x GN!Reader

a/n; Friendly reminder that this is how I view them. None of the things below are canon or hating on their character. I’d also like to add; I don’t know what to make the title, so I’m making it unhealthy behaviors. Some may be healthy, some may not, so ignore the title and enjoy these headcanons (?)

warnings; unintentional gaslight / intentional gaslighting, toxic behaviors / habits, angst(ish), toxic relationships(?)

bold words = unhealthy behaviors

GIYU TOMIOKA

~He has extreme depression episodes to the point he doesn’t want to see you, in order to prevent you from getting hurt.

Tomioka loves you, he really does. However, in order to prevent him from hurting your feelings (or hurting you in general) he distances himself whenever things get slightly bad. He thinks he’s a disease and doesn’t want to affect you in away way, so he does it in the worst way possible; not talking with you.

~He ghosts you unintentionally

This is similar to the first one, however, he does it whenever he’s feeling better, but still feels guilty for not interacting with you. He doesn’t speak with you, avoids you like the plague, sometimes doesn’t attend Hashira meetings in order to avoid you. After a few months, he goes back to you like nothing had happened. This ended up the relationship forming between the two of you to die out.

SHINOBU KOCHO

~She’s really rude to you for no “apparent” reason.

When the two of you started your relationship, you knew she masks her hostility with a soft smile. She didn’t feel the need to mask her true self around you. However, she can be rude to you for no reason or that something is bothering her. Sure, she’s a mature person, but even mature people can be petty. She doesn’t tell you what’s wrong and even sometimes blames it on you.

~She doesn’t take your concerns seriously.

This applies to her consuming poison. You worry for her health, obviously voicing your concerns. However, she brushes it off like it’s nothing. You guys had numerous arguments because of this subject.

KYOJURO RENGOKU

~He’s too pushy

Whenever you need comfort, he tends to give advice that would more likely help his situation rather than your own. He doesn’t understand why you won’t take it, he tends to get upset because you don’t ’trust him.’

~Too positive

He always tries to find the bright-side of the situation. For example: whenever somebody you’re close with passes or gets severely injured, he always tries to find positive energy of the situation. Which, understandably, makes you upset. He doesn’t mean it, yet he can’t help it in a way?

TENGEN UZUI

~He gets upset when things don’t go his way

Now, I’m not saying this man is a child, but I do sometimes see him getting upset over things that aren’t important. Like, choosing where the five of you get to eat, who’s choosing the dress, etc. He just finds it somewhat degrading..in a way. Like, he’s the man, of course he should have the final say in everything. (Sarcasm)

~His mood determines everybody’s moods

Whenever he’s angry, everybody else’s mood is suddenly down. The air is extremely palpable.

MITSURI KANROJI

~Overthinks, a lot. This sweet angel, known as Mitsuri, tends to overthink a lot. She knows you’ll never cheat on her or betray her in anyway, but she still can’t help that you have eyes for somebody else or wants to pursue someone else. You have reassured her many times that your eyes are on her and her only, but she still has doubts and it just won’t go away. She wants it to go away, but it simply can’t. These doubts in her mind made her somewhat self-conscious.

~Unintentionally guilt-trips you.

Mitsuri tends not to watch her wording or how it’s phrased, so she’ll often say things like, “I’m sorry, I’m such a screw-up, I ruin everything.” However, I don’t think she’ll word it like that, but it’s something along those lines. She doesn’t mean too, but it just slips out, like word vomit.

OBANAI IGURO

~Is extremely controlling, jealous, and manipulative + it’s all intentional

This man right here, knows you better than anybody else, he KNOWS how to get into your head and make you rethink everything. “You’re crazy, I never said that!” Or something along those lines. He always twists things into thinking you did something wrong instead of him.

~He twists your words often

Despite Obanai’s tough demeanor, he actually takes everything bad you say about him to heart. He often uses it against you or make it sound worse than it already is.

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA

~Extremely possessive

Unlike Obanai, this man knows you can’t and won’t find somebody better than him. However, he still likes to claim his territory? I guess you can say. Whenever you’re out and about with friends, he’s calling you like something happened, and when you rush over to his side, he always repeats “Oh, I just wanted to spend some time with you, baby.”

~He can’t open up

Sanemi is NEVER willing to open up to you, no matter how much you try to persuade him. He pushes you away, and, sometimes, yells at you for trying to persuade him. He doesn’t mean it, I think, however, he finds it offensive that he needs to open up.

a/n; UGH. I didn’t do Muichiro + Gyomei because this an an 18+ reader and I dunno how to write for Gyomei..so. Yh! Anyways, I hope you enjoy.

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pedriache · 8 months ago

Note

this is gonna make me sob into my pillow but #2 angst thingy with pedri 😣😣😣😣😣😣😣😣

Peace — Pedri González.

Pairing: Pedri González x Fem!Reader

Summary: Breaking up after a a three year long relationship had hurt you tremendously, but when Pedri had texted you that he got injured and wanted you to come to the hospital… well you couldn’t say no.

Word count: 1.47k+

Disclaimer/s: Based off the prompt ‘Hold me, please?’ , angst to comfort / fluff.

A/N: hi im on an angst kick don’t expect much happiness coming out of bea’s blog.

You reread and reread Pedri’s text. Over and over and.. you get the gist. You couldn’t help the pity that built in your heart, but you also couldn’t help the anger that arose along with it.

It had only been a week, for God’s sake. You’d broken up a week ago and the wound was still fresh. Angry thoughts clouded your mind the whole drive to the hospital, all the way up the elevator, to the door, but the second it opened and your eyes landed on the man you had folded.

Every rage filled feeling disappeared, replaced by the overwhelming urge to comfort him. You hold back, cautiously poking your head through the door. “Uh, can I come in?”

At one side of the bed was Pedri’s mother, only furthering to the awkwardness of it all. Seeing your ex and his mother a week after you’d broken up was not something you imagined happening, yet, here you were.

María stood, her eyes darting between her son and the woman she’d grown to adore so dearly. She had to fight the smirk threatening her lips when she saw the tension in her son’s shoulders depleting.

“I’m going to the cafeteria to find your father.” She says, patting Pedri’s head, “it’s nice to see you again.” She offers you a kind smile before rushing out of the room.

“You too..” You begin, but she was already long gone. Left alone in the depressing hospital room, you find your gaze drifting to his leg. “Jesus..” You mumble.

Pedri doesn’t say anything, simply letting out a quiet hum of acknowledgment. He watches you carefully as you make your way to the side of his bed.

“I don’t.. I don’t really know what to, uhm—“ You were grasping at straws for something to say. Nothing came to mind, causing a flush to spread across your cheeks along with a nervous laugh.

The tan man couldn’t help the way his eyes softened and the small, barely noticeable smile of his lips. He’d missed you. Everything about you, he had missed. The breakup of course, was his fault. He been so stressed with football that he’d taken it out on you, saying things he didn’t mean but couldn’t take back.

“You don’t have to say anything.” He speaks, wearily. He wanted so badly for you to just look at him, he didn’t blame you for avoiding it, though.

“I feel like I probably should, I mean.. this is..” You were once again, at a loss for words. “I’m so sorry, this sucks.” Pathetic. That was pathetic.

Pedri was unfortunately, very injury prone. You’d been in this position many times, but this was different. You couldn’t rush to his side, you couldn’t shower him in apologetic kisses, you couldn’t do the things you used to. And those were the only ways you knew how to comfort him.

Your legs brushed against the hospital bedsheets, when you remember. “Oh! Shit, I almost forgot, I set them down outside the door because I wasn’t sure if they would be appropriate right now.. Wait, I’ll be right back.” And just like that, you were gone, leaving Pedri completely and utterly confused.

When you returned, you had a blanket and, what you’d called the ‘designated hospital hoodie’ in your hands. He recognized them instantly. Your favorite hoodie of his, and the blanket you’d used specifically on the nights he’d stay over and the two of you would fall asleep on the couch.

“I figured it would get cold in here, it always does.” You gingerly hand him the items, freezing when his fingers brushed against yours.

Pedri froze as well, his eyes snapping up to you. “Sorry, uhm, thank you. Seriously.”

“It’s no problem.” You cough, “so! How are you? How bad is it?”

Shaking his head with a tired sigh, Pedri winced as he scoots over on the bed, his jaw clenching as he does. “Joder. [fuck] ” He hisses in Spanish, taking a second to speak again, “you can.. sit down y’know?”

Hesitantly sitting onto the uncomfortable mattress, your eyebrows furrow, “you shouldn’t be moving so much.” You scold, easily slipping back into your old concerned girlfriend mode. “How many times do I have to remind you there are plenty of chairs I can sit on?”

“And how many times do I have to remind you, that I prefer you closer?” He rebutted, the both of you pausing when you realize you weren’t allowed to do this back and forth anything.

But, you shrug the feeling off. Despite how things had ended, you loved Pedri. You cared for him. He was hurting, and you were not about to make him hurt any more by opening up the wounds that were still fresh.

“Well, your comfort is a bit more important than your wants.” You crack a small grin, “how did surgery go?”

Pedri huffs through a painful exhale. “I don’t want to talk about medical shit anymore. I’ve had to deal with my families badgering all day…” He hesitates before continuing, “I know this is overstepping, but could you just.. lay down? You don’t have—“

“I’d lay down if you weren’t hogging all the pillows.” You tease, “move your big head.” Shifting around to a sitting position beside him, you wiggle around till the thin blankets were out from under you and on top of you.

He laughs, the sound sweet and welcoming to your ears. You turn your head to the side, meeting his eyes directly for the first time since you stepped into the room. “This is only mildly weird.”

“Yeah.” He agrees, taking the blanket you’d brought and spreading it out over the two of you. “Another boundary crossing question…?”

“I don’t see why not.” You swallow, not knowing what was about to come out of your ex’s mouth.

“Hold me?” He asks with the saddest eyes, “please?”

Listen, you were no fool. You knew your actions would have consequences. This simple act was going to either lead to your heart breaking even more, or potentially causing you to go against your morals and allow forgiveness.

You couldn’t get yourself to speak, instead, you lift your arm to wrap around the back of his neck and your hand came up to rest on his head. Pedri automatically relaxes against your shoulder, letting out a long breath of relief.

You stay like that for a while, your fingers threading through his soft hair while the other hand occupied on his cheek, it’s fingers rubbing smoothly back and forth along his cheekbone. It had always been the way you calmed him down when he was upset. The familiarity tugged at your heart strings and in that moment you didn’t care how badly this was going to hurt you, you only cared it would make him feel better.

Plus, he always told you how much peace he felt when he was in your arms, and thats all you wanted him to feel in the moment.

“Pedri?” You quietly beckon him to look at you, which he does. His eyes fluttered open and a small hum leaves his lips. “You know I can’t stay..”

He tries to hide his disappointment, but you knew him too well. “I understand. Sorry, I shouldn’t have even asked you to come, I know I hurt you.”

“Hurt is one way to put it.” You quirk an eyebrow, hiding the genuine words behind a teasing grin.

His eyes flicker around your face, noticing every crack in your expression. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean the things I said. I can do better, I will.”

“That’s not enough. The things you said.. Pedri, I can’t just forget them.” Exasperated and ready for the conversation to end, you tap his head. “Just lay back down.”

Pedri shakes his head, “no, we need to talk—I need to talk about this! I don’t want you to forget, just hold me accountable and give me another chance.” His tongue darts out, wetting his lips. “Please, cariño.”

That stupid, stupid, stupid pet name. The only one you ever really loved when it left his lips.

“Can we talk about this when you’re not suffering from an injury? Like, what, two months? When your head is clear, and i’ve had time to get over what you said.. you call me. Then, we can talk about it.” You push his head back onto your shoulder and rest yours against his hair.

“Okay. Two months?” Pedri’s hand that had wrapped around your waist, dips under your shirt, rubbing slow circles. “I can do that.”

Pressing a short kiss to his hair, you hum. “I’ll leave when your mom comes back. Don’t text me or contact me till those two months are up, got it?”

Pedri groaned, “nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any pedri posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @sakashq @hrts4havertz @joaoflms @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to !

#pedri gonzalez #pedri gonzalez x you #pedri gonzalez one shot #pedri gonzalez x reader #pedri gonzalez imagine #pedri imagine #pedri x y/n #pedri x you #blurb #football #angst #pedri gonzalez angst #fc barcelona

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ivvyela · 10 months ago

Text

imagine with me, if you will, a nwh potential fix-it involving none other than the multiverse saving duo deadpool and wolverine.

i know, i know - but please, let me cook.

wade and logan now jump across timelines to "fix" things aka travel the multiverse for funsies and deal with the consequences later and somehow end up in a universe where peter parker doesn't exist, but spider-man does. and wade, blessed with the power of "i know this for the plot", immediately knows that is bull. shit. and sure enough, they find one very depressed, very lonely, and very jaded peter parker.

after much annoyance, light stalking, and following spider-man while he's on patrol, they get peter to spill how he ended up in this situation. and after hearing everything, logan breaks the silence with a simple, yet effective: "shit, kid. that... shit."

"yeah, well... now you know, so you can, like, leave me alone."

"nope, not gonna happen." wade shakes his head and tactfully ignores logan's imploring look of what-the-fuck-are-you-getting-us-into-now "i take my job as marvel jesus very, very seriously, so frankly, this is my job to fix your sorry little life, buddy. and if flat-out telling them you exist didn't work, then - "

"oh, i actually... i never told them."

"...come again?"

"i tried to tell them, but i couldn't. so..."

"i'm sorry... your best friend and girlfriend were crying, telling you to come find them and remind them of you, and you chose not to?"

"they're happy and safe without me! i wasn't going to ruin - "

"oh my god. you sweet, self sacrificial, idiot spider-baby. okay! we can fix this! we're no tony stark, but consider us your pseudo daddies for the time being, kid. let's get you your life back."

which is how one very emotional and determined deadpool, followed by a stoic, nonchalant wolverine (who, in all honesty, probably should be completely against this, but once wade commits to something, he can't be talked out of it, and the sooner he gets his fix from this the sooner he can go home, so fuck it we ball), end up in a certain cafe, all up in a poor barista and her friend's face with a cut-out yearbook photo of some kid, yelling "LOOK AT HIM! LOOK AT THIS BOY! HE'S SO LONELY! LIKE A SMALL, FORLORN, VICTORIAN CHILD! REMEMBER HIM, GODDAMMIT!"

(their efforts result in two confused and scared teens, and getting kicked out of said cafe.)

peter practically begs them to just leave him alone, that this was his choice, and he's fine with it, but both wade and logan know a lie when they hear one. they both know what being alone can do to a person, and peter is just a kid who got dealt the shittiest cards in life and at this point, it just feels wrong to leave him here without trying to do something. and maybe they both have a small soft spot for the teen, so what?

and peter knows both men can see through his broody, teenage angst front he's been putting up since the spell, and he's tried so hard to hate the two of them, get them to hate him so they would leave, but they're not budging, so really, there's no point in trying to push them away, right?

and so, he lets them in. he learns that while logan is stoic and intense and kinda terrifying, he's also someone who just wants to do the right thing for the people he cares about. he's also lost people, and he blames himself, but he's come out on the other side. he would tell peter about his daughter, laura, who wouldn't let him wallow in self pity because she is good, better than he has ever been. he never saw himself as a father, but she's still around, so he must be doing alright.

and at first hearing it would result in a pang in his chest, memories of thai food after walking into a smoke-filled kitchen, assurances that things will work out when everything feels hopeless, a tombstone that can never convey everything she was, but now... it's nice to hear that logan still had someone after losing everyone.

so, peter listens to logan's stories. in return, peter tells logan all about his mom.

and wade was brash and loud and conceded and really, really annoying, but he's... no, that's it. he's all of those things, but in a weird way, it's like all those bad qualities merge together to make him a good guy. and yeah, he can walk away at any point, he has absolutely no obligation to help peter, but he does it anyway.

("nonono, don't you dare make me some selfless hero type, kid. i know for a fact that every deadpool has a peter. i'm doing this for the me in your world."

"you're... huh?"

"bottom line, i'm a selfish bastard. i'm doing this for me, 'kay?")

peter didn't fight it. he's had experience with seemingly self-absorbed, deflecting type heroes.

wade doesn't replace him, not even close, but... still.

maybe peter will never get back what he lost. but, for the first time, peter sees a light at the end of the tunnel. that, maybe, he can stop being just spider-man, and he can start being peter parker again, too.

(and if there's a barista talking to her friend about how it's weird that two guys would show up holding a photo of an odd customer from weeks ago, demanding they remember him, and despite not knowing him she felt something, and her friend couldn't help but agree, well... that's neither here nor there.)

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skay-ali · 6 months ago

Text

The Forgotten Daughter

well I finally did it.

first of all merry christmas and enjoy the chapter

Dear family

This may be sudden... I don't even know why I'm writing this letter anymore, it was supposed to be about the big decision I made that would change my life, but even so I don't know why I'm leaving explanations.

My plan was always to never see you again, each of you, I still feel very hurt by everything, although I know that these words will not make a big change in you.

But enough berating them, I'm not racking my brain to find the right words for a letter full of complaints.

I was always a girl who avoided problems or at least I like to think I was, Father, brothers and my dear confidant Alfred, despite getting into big trouble.

The lights were flashing brightly, the music at full volume filled the room, it was very hot due to the sweat that all the bodies were emanating, you watched all the visitors of the club go crazy with euphoria after a few drinks and continued with a long list of crazy things, you On the contrary, you decided that it was one of those depressive days, where you spent your time seeing the bad side of everything and being miserable.

You didn't follow your friends to any of their craziness; on the contrary, you stayed in a place at the bar away from everyone, along with a few glasses full of a low-grade cherry-flavored liquor.

You still taste the light cherry flavor on your palate. There were so many liquors on the shelf, many of different sizes, appearances, names, years and strengths, you wondered if anyone ever drank them all, if there was a person who in his miserable, boring, short life provokes every liquor on the restaurant's menu. bar.

You looked away when you heard the sound of a chair being moved, you saw a man taller than yours, with a somewhat abrupt but attractive appearance. You took another sip from your glass and returned to your thoughts as you watched the people on the dance floor doing stupid things.

Or so you tried, but by discreetly observing the actions of the man near your seat, it was enough to capture your full attention, to what that guy does in his notebook with his pencil.

“What an artist,” you addressed the subject sitting one seat away from you, “what are you doing in a place as crazy as this?” You turned your gaze to the man with blue-black hair, as you watched him take a sip of his drink and draw with his pencil.

Their eyes connected when the man decided to leave his world and pay attention to your beginning of interaction, he couldn't look away in time, although you didn't blame him, you did the same before because of the curiosity you felt when he saw him, you felt like everything was coming together.

He paused, just him and you, as if the two of you were the only ones in a large room of strangers.

A smile left your lips when you saw the man's dazed attitude, he was so lost in himself that it seems that he forgot about your beginning of conversation until a moment later.

Still, you were afraid that it wasn't nerves that the man was feeling but anger or annoyance at your interaction with him.

“Even if you don't believe it, inspiration can be found in unlikely places… Or even sometimes a muse” came those calm words from his thick but reassuring and animated voice.

You were relieved to hear him speak, but those words that had no sign of annoyance or complaints.

“uhh it's like that... I only saw this place as a garbage dump full of vices” you didn't know how you were still trying to maintain an interaction with that person, perhaps prolonging the feeling of company instead of the one of loneliness sounded more attractive.

“You should look at it from other perspectives, so you'll find things like this” you saw him tear a page out of his notebook without blinking and put it on your forehead.

You were surprised to see your drawing on the paper. Every feature of yours delicately captured with each stroke of the pencil on the paper.

“wow you left me speechless for a moment” you disconnected your gaze from the sheet you had in your hands.

“You are actually a great artist” the drawing was extremely beautiful, you never considered yourself a very beautiful woman, it was common for you to see all your flaws before your best qualities, seeing that paper where you felt that in that drawing you were perfect caused you a feeling emotion and a passing confidence.

However, you couldn't get it out of your head to see yourself drawn in other ways on paper, like a cartoon or Japanese version of yourself; before this moment, you never even had the chance to sit on a bench and wait for an artist to draw you. .

“What's wrong with that face, you look disappointed, maybe you're kidding me” you heard him joke.

“No no… no… on the contrary, I really like it” you quickly defended yourself, afraid of offending the man.

“It's just that..” you felt shy when explaining your reasons, especially when he had an attentive gaze on you.

You saw his eyes wait expectantly for your words.

“You know, the drawing is beautiful, but… even though it sounds silly, I wish I could see myself more in a cartoon or comic” you laughed nervously, after your babbling.

“ahh, are you a comic book lover or something?”

“Yes, well it's something like that” you liked to read some series in comic magazines from time to time, but you preferred mangas, you hid this preference, you weren't going to receive a few words of displeasure for that or start a debate about what genre it was.

Better, much less explain what they were if I didn't know what you were referring to.

“I think I can fix that,” the guy said with an animated and funny voice.

You watched him, fascinated, by how he held his book with enthusiasm, his hands moved quickly from one side to the other on the white sheet, the pencil was handled quickly, you could tell that he had a lot of experience with the ease with which he did it.

It was a long night, between different conversations and laughter with the new guy you met, the night became more tolerable with the man by your side.

Between drinks and meaningless talks, laughter on both sides, silly dances on the floor full of people, just two fools doing the most pathetic steps they had plus some little improvised old waltzes, it ended in a new day with two sleepless but falices talking in a viewpoint of a building that showed the entire city.

Oh, father, you don't know how enchanted I was with that man I met on one of my many outings to parties, I was stupid and childish, but I still allowed myself to dream and love.

You didn't expect to meet again with such a man with whom you managed to connect, but that's how it happened, destiny somehow led them to meet.

You liked having a new person in your circle, with whom you managed to get along so well.

From talking about his work as an artist, giving his opinion on different comics and mangas that they knew, talking about animation to becoming hoarse from speaking with so much emotion and passion with long monologues.

They visited many hidden places in the big city in their days of adventures, even if they were alleys that were not very crowded, now that you think about it, such a careless action was very crazy, but the beautiful places, with new views, like an alley full of colorful fabrics and with different designs that hung over the street, the walls of a neighborhood full of drawings with different artistic techniques, but with many bright colors, the tall buildings that showed views of the entire city.

The days of movies with crazy plots, but that had you glued to the screen to see what happened next.

The rare meals from the carts or street stalls, which they consumed without problems while they sat to observe the lights of the city or the dark sky, accompanied by silence, but the two of them together.

In that moment where the two were together and talking, you felt that they were exchanging many words of great importance to both of them, but seen from other perspectives they were nothing more than insignificant.

That's what love did, right?

And all for one crazy night where you hope to go crazy on alcohol, after sinking into a self-compose for your life.

You will never be able to forget when he gave you his name and you gave him yours... well, half of it, you admit to having lied to him, even if you regretted it, you already knew the problems they would bring you later.

Well at least that's what you thought, you had no idea of the true consequences.

You only thought about the fear of telling him your real last name, that he would look for you and know who you really were, you were afraid that he would see you differently, no longer a strange girl he met in a bar, but the daughter of a millionaire with a history. questionable life, the mere thought of him using you was too much.

So you avoided him by mentioning the amazing last name “Wayne” and mentioning a fake one.

More specifically, that of your false identification, something crazy that you did in your wild adolescence was left to be useful in your future, that false identification that you made with your friends from school to visit different clubs, you used it when you became independent, so that no one It will bother you in your new life.

“_____ , _____ Jones” unsurely you stated your name, you still remember when you made the false identifications with your friends and among all of them you were looking for a new name and surname for the others, you kept your name and they gave you the last name of the protagonist of the book of fashionable at the time because of the film that adapted the story.

A mental chuckle caused you to remember this along with the taunts they threw at you about where your diary was.

“Kayle, Kyle Rayner,” the boy smiled as he introduced himself.

You followed his smile, something in his ended up infecting you. Just two fools in a bar telling each other their names and being ignorantly happy.

It's a shame that that happiness ended some time later, when you never saw Kyle again. Even with a card for him to contact you, you never heard from him.

You woke up happy, in his apartment, the day after spending a night together, alone, without any sign that the man was home, without any note or notice, you waited excitedly for him to return, but he never did, even when you left a message. letter and ways for me to contact you again if the ones they already had didn't work, you never knew anything.

Maybe it was all an adventure and you got carried away... they never clarified what they were, hell maybe he didn't even consider you a friend.

But you and I know, father, that all the fairy tales one creates end quickly, most of the time in the worst ways.

I ended up with a broken heart, still, I kept good memories... and her.

I know it is late, very late, as it has been for many years, but I must confess it, because no parents and siblings would want to know it in the worst possible ways….

Alice Wayne, my dear baby….

You leaned back in your chair as you wrote the last sentence, you did it, you wrote what was overwhelming you so much, the beginning of the letter.

Your eyes burned, a few treacherous tears running down your face.

Your family, your passing love and your beloved daughter always made you sensitive.

It wasn't something you could avoid.

You leaned your head on the headboard of the chair, letting all the blood flow to your head, something strange you used to do to clear your head, you looked at the ceiling and the walls around you upside down.

You noticed the crib on the side of the room near your desk where you were writing.

You saw your baby sleeping calmly, a peaceful face with no signs of discomfort, he was an angel.

Your little angel, and your light... you knew you would do anything for her, like you did right now.

I think if we are similar in some way father.

I ended up having a daughter through carelessness like you did to me.

I need to ask you a big favor father and not only of you but also of the whole family, the biggest and most important one I will do in my life.

If something happens to me... if I end up in big trouble or I no longer exist, any situation that prevents me from taking care of my beloved daughter.

Please watch over her.

Make sure she has the best future, a happy life with everything she needs, that she can grow up as a girl full of light, that she is always kind, wise and with a loving family.

If that's not something they can give you, find someone who can give it to you.

Take care of my treasure, my only happiness, my only family... I know I left a long time ago without saying anything and returned in a hurry to their lives.

Maybe one day they will call me selfish knowing the path I took to leave little Alice to them, the decision I decided to make was not easy, but I did it because I want the best for my little light.

We are all selfish and mean, I was all my life, since I knew that my happiness only depended on me, that I was alone in this world, that only oneself can save oneself.

I think I still am by thinking that I can force them to do something about my problem, I can't force them to take care of someone or take responsibility for a short period of time, turning their lives upside down.

But maybe... with all the love and affection that you could ever see felt for me, I can make you consider helping me and fulfilling my difficult request.

Father, brothers and Alfred... I never said it because of all the anger I felt, because of everything that happened in the mansion, which devastated my thoughts with a lot of anger, forgetting everything I had and made me have a comfortable and pampered life.

Thank you.

Well, he's the father and maybe a future yandere, it's a possibility.

after an exhaustive investigation into possible characters to occupy this role in the series.

although there may be other possibilities with other characters....

Like I tried with the penguin's son, if ___ had decided to hang out more with villains and they adopted her or became her godparents.

Tag list: @kore-of-the-underworld @vanessa-boo @jsprien213 @delias-stuff @vanilliona @bat1212 @yanrandom @Quiarst @palabra de niño salvaje @el termino @leo227 @sirenethblog @ masa para galletas @blueberry19000 @con seguridad

#yandere dc #x reader #yandere batfam #yandere platonic #platonic batfam

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jenscx · 6 months ago

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[47] DAYLIGHT — REPORTED MISSING

jimin follows you blindly, forced to keep up with your pace like a lost puppy. she’s not sure whether to ask you any questions currently, seeing how you angrily (were you upset?) stalk to the nearest restaurant. the original arrangement had her heart racing in excitement but now? jimin can’t lie and say she’s not worried about the outcome.

in her head, she had a sure fire way for you to forgive her. but all her plans had been thrown away after the appearance of your ex. jimin had to clench her fists to control herself, not that she would dare to do anything… but it’s the thought that counts right?

weaving through the doors, a waiter comes up to guide you to an empty seat. you march to the restaurant’s corner and quickly sit down. jimin follows obediently. she resists checking her phone, knowing that the group chat was probably blowing up with questions. anyway she already replied to them, saying that she was perfectly fine and no, she had not been kidnapped.

“uhm, so…” jimin starts awkwardly, “should we order first?”

you shake your head, stating, “this won’t take long. let’s talk first.” jimin’s face falls slightly but she conceals it with a cough. but really, what was she expecting? you still haven’t answered her from before. what if you weren’t over your ex? was jimin a rebound? god, she really shouldn’t have said all that about you two not dating.

scrunching her nose, jimin forces herself to stare at the empty plate and utensils in front of her.

“what did she talk to you about?” tilting her head up, jimin asks. a small part of her stays curious but another part of her fears the answer she might receive.

“she wanted forgiveness.”

“oh. okay,” jimin swallows her saliva, “did you forgive her?”

you only offer a vague smile, “there’s nothing to forgive.”

an uneasy feeling takes over jimin. nothing to forgive? it doesn’t seem like nothing. the past few conversations that you had with her about hyewon seemed to bother you a lot. jimin had vowed not to do the same and to treat you with care but maybe you started to think otherwise?

“uhm… okay. how have you been…?”

“i’m okay. still the same.” your answer only fuels the anxiety within jimin. you were okay without her? witthout you, jimin felt depressed. well, an exaggeration but you can’t blame her!

“a-are you sure you don’t want to order?”

you sigh, exasperated but fond, “if you want.”

your reply eases some of jimin’s nerves as she lists down all her orders to the waiter. whilst waiting, jimin sparks a conversation by asking about your cat, who she misses dearly. sometimes you would send photos of bobo but now all she gets are the tweets she sometimes stalks.

“—his birthday’s coming up soon, i’m thinking about a little pet party with aeri’s dogs too but bobo doesn’t like hanging out with them much,” you say, showing jimin a few photos of your cat lying down. jimin’s smile dims again when you mention aeri. she had totally forgotten about that girl! and she was the reason why jimin felt insecure in the first place!

“oh… that’s… cool,” she replies eloquently. you raise an eyebrow but you don’t prod on her weird behaviour.

“what have you been up to?” you ask.

other than missing you? she can’t say that.

“y’know… just making content… filming stuff. i filmed a vlog with chaewon, maybe i’ll edit it when i go home.” safe. safe answer. jimin’s proud of herself for keeping it cool.

“that’s, that’s good.”

“uhm, yeah,” jimin winces at her own voice crack, “damn. i’m hungry.”

you smile but your tone turns firm, “maybe we should talk.” jimin stiffens up, a looming dread hanging over her head. despite the awkwardness, she was still happy to continue avoiding talking about everything. yet, at your solemn expression, jimin finds no way of backing out now.

“ah, right,” she says, scratching the back of her neck. you reach out to take a sip of water while jimin’s eyes lingers on the mark left on the glass by your lips.

clearing your throat, you look down, choosing to stare at your hand, twirling the fork around.

“i… i’m sorry,” you mumble. jimin’s chair screeches slightly as she shifts forward, shocked. “for what?”

“for just,” inhaling sharply, your voice comes out wobbly, “assuming things. i shouldn’t have assumed we were dating or anything.”

jimin’s eyes widen considerably. your admittance was completely unexpected. never in her wildest dreams had she anticipated your apology. she watches as you smile wearily, “i thought wrong. i shouldn’t have gotten upset when you thought i liked aeri.”

she wants to deny it, say that you weren’t in the wrong for holding this relationship so dear to your heart. jimin knows she does too. but the fear she felt when she found out you had history with another girl outweighs her empathy greatly. shit, it wasn’t even considered history. you were friends for god’s sake.

your mouth dries up at jimin’s silence. suddenly, all your previous confidence of talking things out disappears. an uncomfortable silence stretches on. did jimin… does she not want you anymore? your heart sinks, reaching the furthest depths of your stomach. maybe jimin realised that you were too much. you hadn’t spent too long with her but the teetering hope of having someone as sweet and silly as jimin attracts you like a magnet. there’s a nagging voice in the back of your head reminding you that going on one date doesn’t count as dating. calling someone at midnight doesn’t count as dating. your feelings don’t label anything. so what if you like her? that’s a crush. it feels so childish to say.

“say something?” you whisper, “please?” jimin looks completely out of it. swallowing back tears, you turn away from her, knowing she might crush your heart entirely with one single word.

“i— well, this is… i’m sorry,” you shut your eyes, preparing for the worst, “i’m sorry too! i mean. for being stupid and saying that you liked aeri. we didn’t have a label on this and it just made me insecure— not that you did anything to make me feel that way, it’s my own personal feelings! but uhm, where was i again? ah, whatever, but you’ve given me so many chances too even though i was being dumb, so i’m really sorry,” she rambles on. a weight gets lifted off your shoulders. you glance at jimin, watching a splash of maroon paint her cheeks.

“i liked that you thought we were dating!” jimin exclaims shyly, “it’s just, i’m not very good at this whole relationship thing and i suck at communication. we did start off not liking each other… i like you now, though! and uh, hopefully you like me too? still?”

you can’t resist the smile that overtakes your face. her sheepishness was definitely doing something to your heart. you don’t know what feeling it was, but it felt good. happiness blooms in your chest, like the first flowers of spring. damn, you really should have talked things out first.

“y-yeah, i do. i like you a lot,” you say, gazing adoringly, “you’re silly for asking if i’m over my ex, by the way.”

jimin huffs, a sight that you store mentally, “well! we weren’t really talking and i was worried! how was i meant to know… know that you…” she falls silent, unable to say the words out loud, “anyway! you call her unnie? you don’t even call me unnie.”

rolling your eyes, you sigh, “you act so childishly, how am i supposed to call such a childish person unnie?” unable to refute, jimin chooses to pout. laughter tumbles out of your mouth at her cuteness.

a beat passes. you look back at jimin, halfway deciding whether to coo or gag over the look on her face. like christmas had come early.

“what are you staring at?” you choose to ask, trying to regulate your racing heart. jimin shakes her head, “just thinking… if we should start over? like, go on proper dates. for real this time. we’re actually dating.”

you don’t even give it a second thought. yet, the hopeful puppy look on jimin’s face makes you want to tease her. pretending to ponder, you sigh, “should we?” jimin nods fervently, as if trying to convince you. perhaps if she truly were a puppy, you would spot the tail wagging behind her.

“only if you get to platinum in overwatch.”

“wha— hey!” jimin’s surprised voice is the last thing you hear before you both burst out in laughter.

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