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neteyamsilly · 1 year

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i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 5

summary ;; What could Jake do? How was he supposed to fight when he had no concrete opponent? PART 4 | PART 6 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; jake is so depressing here. i also took liberty with his character and the reasonings for his decisions in atwow, sorry in case if thats not how you see him LMAO happy reading 💞 please excuse my mistakes if you see any! ‼ I DONT TAKE TAG REQUESTS ANYMORE ‼

“One chance, Jakesuli. You will only have one chance. Use it well. Our Great Mother favors you, that we know. But this favor hasn’t been granted to you. It has been granted to my granddaughter.”

“I won’t fail.” Not again.

“What does failing mean, I wonder. Would you fail if you take her soul back from her happiest? Or would you fail if you let her have the peace our Great Mother has laid her into?”

“I will get my daughter back. This isn’t her time. If Eywa has given me this chance, then she thinks the same as me.”

“You will take that honor from her, then?” Mo’at was being cryptic, but Jake saw through the exterior of the neutral Tsahik into an exhausted, mourning grandmother. “She was the daughter of Toruk Makto, and he was her last shadow.”

It came back to Jake in a gut-churning realization, it was his shadow that had fallen over you from the light of the torches on the walls as you’d given your last breath. It was his shadow. “No,” he refused, adamantly. “She will get to achieve greater honors of her own than that. I won’t be the one defining her ending.” The last bead of your songcord having his name, Toruk Makto’s name, was supremely wrong to him. He would not accept this fate for you.

“Very well, then.” Secretly, she was pleased with him. With his answer. “Get going. As I said. One chance.”

Jake would never be able to get used to the magnificence that was Vitraya Ramunong, or, the Tree of Souls. To him, Pandora itself was a marvel already too good to be true that he’d fallen in love with, and abandoned his own race for, there was no getting used to the beauty for a human like him who’d only found it once in neon lights, ever. He could reach the end of his natural lifespan in this body and still there would be much left to discover. That’s why Jake was more vulnerable to one of the beating hearts of Eywa in the shape of a giant, glowing willow tree.

No Na’vi was immune to the soul-purifying, all-consuming, yet being-dwarfing peace enveloping one’s very spirit, in a cradling hug as if they were nothing but a newborn in their mother’s arms. In here, only one fact mattered: they were childrens of Eywa, all of them dear, all of them seen, all of them safe and sound, including him, once alien to Eywa the way Earth was related to Pandora. Everything spoke to him here in a language he didn’t understand, but could respond to, again, in a language he didn’t understand, his soul doing the communicating.

Jake was also a child here, Eywa’s chosen child.

And he had come to her door for the most difficult request of his life, feeling like he was asking his mother for money right after he had crashed their car, unable to look her in the eye and expecting the biggest of scoldings for his shamelessness.

This was nothing like asking for her assistance against the sky people, back then, he had agency, power, the clans backing him up, Toruk. If Eywa didn’t hear him, he would fight until the last drop of blood in his body was spent anyway, he was ready.

Now, he had nothing.

Nothing to offer in return, not one concrete reason as to why he should have his daughter back other than being a desperate father with nowhere to return to other than the mercy of the Great Mother. He just wanted his child. Nothing mattered.

Not how and why Quaritch had spawned right under his nose with an avatar body, not how they could even slither in without detection, not the threat of what the sky people could bring upon their heads with that — nothing, not now. Nothing mattered until he saw this through.

Jake had found the will to quite literally tear himself from your side like nail from flesh only when you’d stabilized enough. Stabilized, as in, the faintest rise and fall of your ribcage Neteyam had to stare from where he was sitting like a sentinel for a full minute to spot, a tideless, still ocean only moving with whiffs of wind, his own breathing unnoticeable — to match yours, or to silence the sounds in his own body to hear better, Jake didn’t know.

No sky person was allowed to take over from Mo’at and Kiri. Norm had told Jake none of this made sense, if the bullet had nicked the bowels enough and the dirt leaked into the bloodstream, the possibility of sepsis was eventual, and if it didn’t, you had bled too much anyway, a blood transfusion was necessary, and the internal organs... — Christ, the amount of bad end scenarios Jake had been subjected to was as if they were telling him to open a grave for you anyway. Tsahik had scoffed into their faces. The way of healing was something none of them would see, she had scoffed. Now ally, or not. You can’t fill a cup that’s already full. Jake was in a hopeless need for water into wine kind of miracle, and honestly, he wasn’t complaining.

Leaving High Camp behind to set off on a journey calling for only him was one of the hardest things he’d done yet, the silhouette of you lying motionless, his family scattered around the tent, shadowed in their own mourning, folded into themselves was burned into his mind, glimpses of their pain visible from eclipses of light occasionally falling on their faces. A sight he never wanted to see again in his life if he could help it. It was a frosted, iron-thorned hand squishing his heart into ground meat.

Tuk, ever the stingy monopolizer, had brought her favorite toys to scatter around you because she thought they’d comfort you the way they comforted her, had tried snuggling with your unconscious body and was warned by Kiri only to hold your hand instead. She had taken to playing with your fingers, the depressive gloom of years beyond her age crooked on her. Jake couldn’t stand the sight of the little girl telling you bedtime stories he and Neytiri used to, for a moment only, he could pretend you were just going along with your sister’s whims and smiling with your eyes closed as you listened.

Kiri, buzzing around to change the bandage-leaves that soaked up some sort of sickly black colored puss every couple hours, had explained to him the salve they used on you was getting the infection and the splinters of the bullet they couldn’t get out of your body, which had turned the color of your blood into that — but the thing was, given the dwelling of the woodsprite in your mouth, they couldn’t feed you the porridge-like mix to speed up the process of blood production in the bone marrow, and she was exerting herself looking for some other way.

Before he’d left the tent for good, she had handed him the bullet— or, the biggest piece of it they’d taken out of your body, it was a mere pursed and shriveled, tiny metal. The exhausted girl had stammered when explaining that whatever they’d hit you with, had broken into shards inside you upon impact, creating severe lacerations and lethal hemorrhage that they’d worked tirelessly to pick out.

Jake had stared hollowly at it for the longest time. This small thing. It was such a small thing that took you from him.

The sentence that sent you away was also as small, and damning as this bullet. ‘Go.’

Kiri had seen it sink in his face, closing her five-fingered hand on his palm, on the bullet. “You should get going, dad,” she’d said. “We’re okay here.”

Jake had taken one last look. At Neytiri wiping your body to clean all the congealed blood. At Tuk holding your hand. At Kiri trying to fill in shoes bigger than her feet. At you lying down with trinkets surrounding you like funeral flowers. And forced his body to keep moving when all he wanted to do was stay.

He’d then heard Lo’ak complaining to his older brother outside the tent, “How can he be so cold?” The heaviness was getting to the boy, agitated and misapprehending. But he was always this way, if something was out of his control, the inability to act to change it manifested as frustration, blind anger. “Why is he so… unresponsive? Emotionless?”

Jake would have let it slide had it been about something else, but his children running their mouths not knowing he was a hair's breadth away from going clinically insane had gotten to him. He was burning alive.

“You think I don’t care, boy?” He emerged from the tent like some last boss, initially not caring he’d scared the brothers. “You think I don’t feel at all? My own child dying in the same arms I used to hold her as a baby — you think that doesn’t faze me?”

Neteyam, the mediator, or rather, the blame-taker, ran to his little brother’s rescue, the latter too flabbergasted to form any words yet. “Dad, he doesn’t mean—”

“I know exactly what he means.” When the anger subsided, Jake sighed with the weariness of an ancient man. The flames had died before they could climb, he was too exhausted for it. Honesty and trust, as Neytiri had said.

Having lost everything, having nothing to lose, and having a lot to lose were somehow simultaneously the same thing to Jake in the predicament he’d found himself in. “I know how you see me. You only know me as the person I want to show you.”

Lo’ak’s go-to answer was presented to Jake on a silver platter. “Sorry, sir.”

It wasn’t what he wanted to hear at all. Jake wasn’t trying to get Lo’ak to bow his head. “Don’t apologize—” He cut himself short, licking his chapped lips, and after rubbing his face, he’d put his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Lo’ak. Son. I feel this, alright? Of course I do. I’m your father.” He shook him gently, feeling the words weren’t reaching him, who was just staring at something on the ground off to the side. “There’s no greater pain a parent can go through in life than losing his child. You can’t understand what this means right now—what it’s doing to me. You will only know when you become a father yourself.” He gently tapped Lo’ak on the chin so he would raise his head and look at him in the eye already. And when he did, Jake said what he said slowly, hoarsely. “But know this. Know I will lose myself if I lose you, or any of your siblings.” He turned to Neteyam as well, who was watching in full alert mode. “I’m fighting not to lose my sanity as we speak.”

Lo’ak swallowed, unsure and weirded out to hear something like this for the first time in his life. Jake didn’t blame him. He was never emotionally upfront or honest before, not even used to it, more awkward with it than his boys were. But none of that mattered. Not anymore, after what happened to you because of his shortcomings. “You just look so composed—“

“I have to be.” Jake shook his head, eyelids hanging heavy, his whole head was heavy. “I just can’t crumble under it, do you understand? I have to be strong. I can’t lose myself in it. Your sister needs me. You need me. To be strong.” He took his hands off the boy’s shoulders, putting a palm on his cheek and patting a few, fatherly times before backing off altogether. “Never say that I don’t care. Never. I might not show it—and it’s a father’s duty not to show it, so my family will have a stable anchor. Get what I’m saying?”

Lo’ak looked reassured, lighter. So that’s what Neytiri had meant. “How… how can I help?”

His youngest son’s inclination to get to the root of the problem and pump out solutions was in consanguineous with his inability to stop and wait, uncomfortable in his skin when he couldn’t do anything to improve the situation and was confronted with the intimacy of having to feel, always wanting to act. Lo’ak was like Jake in that way. Awkward when it came to communication. Dishonest with themselves.

“Stay here.” Jake said, right from his heart. “Stay safe. I don’t wish for anything else in this world.”

Lo’ak’s eyes softened, and as the father, Jake felt the renewal of the bond between them, saw the understanding in his youngest son, saw something else than the guilt and regret over being caught after mischief, for once. “I’m sorry, dad.”

“Don’t apologize.” He shared a meaningful look with him, trying to convey, again, his apology wasn’t what he wanted. Yet, his sons were defaulted to saying sorry half the time they spoke to him nowadays. Jake was understanding the severity of it, too much too late. Lo’ak nodded, ears tipped down slightly.

Then he turned to the eldest. “Neteyam—”

But he opened his mouth before Jake could say anything else. Ready. Always on his feet. “Yes, I will—”

Jake clicked his tongue. “Rest.”

Neteyam was about to say yes to whatever he was told to do, as always, but stopped right in the middle of it, voice catching in his throat, eyes blinking in confusion. “What?”

“Rest.”

“But—”

“Rest, Neteyam, I won’t tell you again.”

God knows he needed it. Neteyam looked like he’d been having night terrors for days, accumulated anxiety making him jumpy. “Sorry, sir.”

“Stop—“ Jake caught himself before he could raise his voice. “Why are you apologizing?”

Neteyam didn’t talk for a while. But when he did, he was looking up at him underneath his lashes, unable to keep eye contact for more than two seconds. “It’s my fault.”

“Bro,” Lo’ak said, a pitiful objection.

Jake knew where this was going. “What is?”

“I should have been there.” He pressed his mouth into a thin line before furrowing his brow, closing his eyes. Jake knew what he was seeing, repeated over and over again in his mind. “I should have known right away when I couldn’t catch up to her. I could have prevented it. It’s my responsibility.” One tear slipped by as he hung his head. “My fault.”

There it is.

Jake had told him before. “You’re the older brother, you gotta act like it.” — even though you and him were more like affable twins than older brother and younger sister that he never had to explicitly be a guardian to you like he was to Lo’ak, he had to be thinking this was his biggest failure. Neteyam was just reflecting what he’d been taught, the standards his father was holding him up to. Of course the boy had been overthinking it to the point where he was the catalyst to the event by not predicting your fakeout.

“No,” Jake rasped, after a beat. “This is on me first, and the sky people who got to her second. And that’s the end of the story.”

Neteyam, up until this point, had to bear half the blame, if not the rest of it, for the consequences of his siblings’ actions. Upon receiving this kind of answer, he startled with an incredulous gasp and full stare at Jake. “But I—”

“It’s not about you, Neteyam,” Jake explained, although the words were harsh, he had done his best to soften the impact. “I did this. Blame me, okay?”

‘How could I?’ was written in neon letters over the boy’s head even if he didn’t say anything. Too good-natured. He idolized Jake a lot more than the man deserved. “Mother was… she was… She is grieving, she doesn’t mean it.”

“You gotta stop making excuses for people, boy. Especially when they’re in the right.” A smile pulled on his lips, but died as it was born. “I pushed and pushed until we reached the edge, thinking there was never an edge at all. I should have known better. I should have been better. This is between me and your sister, and that’s why it is me who has to go to the Tree of Souls.”

And he’d left, but not before pulling his boys into his chest, cradling the back of their heads against himself, the smell of home repulsing instead of comforting. Prickles on his skin was the comfort he got from being able to hug his children when you were absent. It didn’t feel right.

He missed you dearly, an aching, gaping hole in his very being that only grew larger as he saw what you left behind half-completed or messy like you’d stood up and gone off for a minute to come back to it later —

The unmade pallet from the night of your Iknimaya argument that Jake had shed tears on when he’d seen the state of it, having the signs of someone getting up from it like you would be returning to go back to sleep any second.

The unfinished bark plate you had set aside to eat later and fought Lo’ak not to touch it. a squabble Jake had to break before you started wasting food by throwing it at each other.

The stack of fruits you’d gathered that you never shared except for Neytiri sometimes.

The half-carved cup you were working on because the regular cups weren’t big enough for your water needs and you didn’t like to refill it about three times until you were satisfied.

The incomplete anklet you were making out of rainbow beads for Tuk that was confidential to everyone but Jake, who knew from observing you, of course — you were missing a couple colors that you just couldn’t seem to find, nagging his head off to just let you roam around farther and there was no danger as the sky people couldn’t get in the vortex.

The little animal doodles you scratched at your side of the tent when you couldn’t sleep at nights, waking Jake up in the process every single time to listen until your breathing evened out as sleep retook you in its arms again, because he was bodily programmed to startle awake at one single rustle in his living quarters from his Marine days and fell into old habits after the return of the sky people, he knew you had developed insomnia from being uncomfortable at High Camp, longing for your hammock cocooned in the safety and comfort of the forest.

And the dumb romance novels you had taken from the humans that you, Kiri and Tuk giggled about at girl’s nights reading out loud, Spider invited as an honorary guest at times, just so you could tease Kiri about him and annoy your brothers that they weren’t allowed in, but the human boy was.

All of them had no owner now. Neither of your family members could look at them, your ghost would appear in precious memories beside your belongings if they looked too much. He didn't need to concentrate for a phantom of you to appear, you were everywhere he looked, and even now, as the gently pulsating lavender humming, a song from Eywa herself, right underneath the veinlike, labyrinthine roots was the cool summer rain on Jake’s sizzling skin, all he could see was your first communion with Eywa in his arms while Neytiri formed the tsaheylu, the clan spread all around them in celebration.

“You’ve called, and I’ve answered,” he greeted in positivity. “I think this is the most direct you’ve been with me in a long while.”

He didn’t know if it was Eywa or you he was saying this to. He genuinely didn’t know.

Kneeling, and putting his arms on the mossy, thick root, he looked up to see the woodsprites swaying and floating in the air. He reached for his braid, letting the squirming nerve-endings coil around the white-cored lavender thread closest to him, taking in the presence of Eywa, all around yet nowhere at all, but listening. No sign of you. Was he supposed to talk like this? Just like this? Was he not allowed to see you?

Jake had to admit he had been harboring the tiniest expectation of meeting you somehow, or hearing your voice through the connection like he did with a Tree of Voices when Mo’at had cryptically informed him of his chance. But this was it?

If he failed, this would be it.

“I guess this isn’t all that different,” he said out loud, instead of thinking inwards where the confusion flew. “It’s been like this for a while now, you and I. You talk, I don’t hear you. I talk, you don’t hear me. We throw the same ball at each other only for it to bounce back. Monologuing to a tree is the same thing, except it doesn’t talk back like you do.”

He looked up and around, there was nothing else to do. The air was the same as it always was in here. Always accommodating to what each Na’vi found comforting. “The last time I came here like this was to ask for Eywa’s help in the last stand against sky people. I told her I would fight either way, I knew that’s why she’d chosen me. All my life, all I’ve done was fight. Even when I wasn’t able to, I was fighting lesser battles with the excuse of not having anything to fight for. It’s all I’ve known. All I’ve ever done. It’s what I was best at.” His brow twitched, and Jake tried to keep his composure, not because he didn’t want anybody to see, no, it was to keep his shit together so he didn’t fuck this up. He had to be honest. His pride was the last thing he needed in his way at the moment.

“You were born to a different man. To a changed man. To a father who could let go because he thought his family was safe. You got to meet the man I used to be when my reason for fighting came back from my star. I know you don’t like that person — you can’t — couldn’t get used to him. I know.”

From the discomfort, his fingers dug into the moss first, and found the bark of the root, his fist curling on it next. “But I had to keep fighting.” He softly brought his fist back on the root. “The strong prey on the weak, that’s just how things are. That’s how I had it on my star. And my kids — you, you are weak, and it’s not an insult — it’s not me criticizing, Jesus, you are just children, and there’s a war on your damn heads. That’s what I mean. That’s what I’ve always meant. It’s natural that you are weak, Eywa was kind enough to let you be soft. Not Earth, though, never Earth.”

Jake had to clench his teeth and bite the anger into the inside of his mouth to not be boiled alive — not to let it reach to your side. He let out a soundless snarl. “You would never be ready for the cruelty of Earth, I would never wish that upon any of you. But it was brought to you. Right at your doorstep. I couldn’t protect you from it by hugs and kisses. You wouldn’t be safe from a gun extended to you by extending a branch in return. No.”

He reached and caressed the glowing thread, brows furrowed. “I did what I thought was right to prepare you. Every single one of you. I was making you tough. I had to. To protect you. And of course there would be clashing along the way, it’s what happens between parent and child. We fight. We fight like cats and dogs for dominance. You try me to show strength. I stand my ground to let you know you gotta do better.”

He had fired those sentences with incoherent speed, and when he got to the end of it, Jake got choked up. Stopped for a moment, took a breath. Blinking several times, his tone became vulnerable, he didn’t have anyone in front of him, but he tore away his gaze anyway. “Somewhere along the way, things just… Without me noticing, everything…” He sighed through his nose, his voice nothing but a whisper. “I fought more battles than I fought for my family. I thought I was doing my job as a father when I didn’t even know shit about being a father.”

A couple seconds floated by, and his gaze was stolen by a lone woodsprite descending down until it staggered on the fist he had against the root. The shine of it reflected from the mistiness of his eyes. His lower lip slightly trembled at the thought of it being you. This little woodsprite. You?

“The thing is, I’m lost, sweetheart,” he admitted quietly, small, shaky, not taking his eyes off the woodsprite. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I sit here, I look back, and think why I keep fighting. We could have migrated. Looked for a new Hometree. Another forest. Left the humans alone. Or made peace. A treaty. Something. None of your lives had to be sullied by war. Yet I chose this. I chose to fight, as I ‘ve always done, because now I had something to fight for. And the fighting wasn’t limited to them, I fought Neteyam, I fought Lo’ak, I fought you, my own kids, and I didn’t even know.”

He reached for it with his other hand, tentatively, scared that it would fly away with the slightest contact. But he was able to touch the top of the woodsprite ever so slightly, the little zap making all the hair on his body stand up. Jake swallowed thickly, his whole head on fire. “I don’t know what to do. I just miss you. I miss you so much, sweet girl. I wish you would scream at me. Say you hate me for all I care. Anything. Hate me until the day you die, but do it with all of your family surrounding you in old age, in peace. I would be content knowing you are under the same sky as me. But I’m forgetting your voice already, and I—” He held back a violent sob, hissed to not let it out, and groaned, getting angry at himself for the emotions. He shut his eyes tightly, willing away the tears. “I wish I could say these to your face. I wish I could see you one last time, smiling at me.”

Having everything to lose. Having lost everything. Having nothing to lose. Three different meanings had coiled around each other like snakes to become one singular outcome in linear relation of cause-and-effect through you. It wasn’t a cycle.

Having something to fight for. Having nothing left to fight for. Having nothing to fight for. You were everything. Everything. What could Jake do? How was he supposed to fight when he had no concrete opponent?

“I see you.”

The voice — your voice, albeit much, much younger, almost made him jump. When his eyes shot open, Jake was in a different location. He knew this place. The creek away from the village he and his family often frequented.

The twilight penumbra of the eclipse dimmed the shadows embracing the forest, but the ethereally glowing lights of all colors illuminated and got reflected from the water as if it was a mirror. Above and all around him were lazily dancing fireflies — or, rather, bioluminescent bugs he didn’t know the names of, tiny stars floating in the air like glitter. It was magical.

Jake realized with aching melancholy that this was the first time he’d taken you out on an eclipse to show you the beauty of the forest on a special father-daughter date. The exact memory.

The breath that left him was shaky as he felt the presence sitting right beside him, in the corner of his vision, he saw the ripples on the shining water made by swinging legs.

Jake froze for a second. Unmoving. Not looking at all — because if this was a dream, or a hallucination, he wouldn’t be able to bear it. His breathing got louder, more labored, the log underneath his hands was so realistically textured and damp. If he looked. If he looked, you would disappear. That’s how he felt.

He was supposed to talk. But now, his ribcage was holding the words hostage, burning with the strain of the pile-up.

“But I’m sad you don’t see me,” you said, and he was shaken by hearing your voice yet again, remembering the moment he found himself here, how he’d heard — ‘I see you’. “You don’t even want to look at me.”

So much hurt and vulnerability in that sentence that it left him breathless.

It all happened in a matter of seconds. Him launched into his own turmoil racking his brain about how Quaritch was back as an avatar, ignoring to look at you to protect his composure and just trying to think, think — think, of a plan, of a how, of what to do. You calling after him once Neytiri, you and he arrived at High Camp after dodging Quaritch’s men. Him purposefully walking away because he needed to cool off and not to explode on you right there and there.

That whole time, Jake hadn’t looked at you. If he did, he would have seen you needed help.

He shattered, all of his walls crumbling down, stripped down to bare despair.

“Oh sweetheart.” Before he knew it, he had wrapped his arms around you in a crushing hug, basically snatching you off from where you were sitting and on his lap, and your warmth, your pulse, your tangible existence wrenched a shiver out of him — and he buried his face to the little crook of your neck, taking your scent in, hiding his trembling face and the quiver of his arms by holding you tight. You were here. As your younger self, no older than eight, but he had you. Not bloody and battered in his arms, but alive, so alive. “Oh sweet girl, my sweet girl… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He kissed the side of your head, felt the real tickle of your hair against his face, blessed with the soothe of his child’s smell. “I see you. Of course I see you. I’ve always seen you.”

The snowflake-frail snivel followed by your sobbing sniffle broke his heart into pieces. “You’re a liar.” He shook his head, hugging you tighter. “You’re mean to me. You’re so mean to me.”

“I’m sorry.” That was all he could say. All he could do with his thrashing soul smoldering at the wetness of your tears on his shoulder. “I am mean. I’m sorry… You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“It hurt so much.” You wailed. “It hurt a lot.”

Jake began to caress your head with an awkward, clumsy, panicked hand, disturbed as to if you meant the moment of your death — at him pressing on the wound with all he had to stop the bleeding, or he and your strained relationship in general. “I know, sweetheart,” he said anyway, a stone clogging his throat. He didn’t try to explain, or tell you why, didn’t argue that it wasn’t what he meant to do. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. He had you in his arms. “I know. I know.”

You wouldn’t get to be younger than this. And maybe, he would never get to see you be older, either. The thought crumpled his face like some piece of paper. Jake just wanted to hold you. And when you wrapped your little arms around him too, freely crying in his arms, a couple tears escaped his eyes as well, he didn’t know what kind of face he was making, perhaps it was better that you didn’t see him crumble.

In the middle of it somewhere, he realized that you were younger because it was your inner child that needed this, she was more honest — more open with Jake. It caused him to sway with you back and forth, ribcage hurting with each breath. And you let it all out, clinging to him.

“I love you, always,” he whispered, watching the bioluminescent bugs, when you were calmer and had fallen silent on his chest, not wanting to let him go and just listening to his heartbeat. “Even if I don’t show it — especially when I don’t show it. You are loved, my sweet girl, more than you know. More than you’ll ever know. More than I can show.” He looked down at the top of your head, agonized. “But I want to try. I want to show you more, moving forward.”

Knowing what he was insinuating, “But it’s nice here,” you said, voice thick and coarse from crying. You still didn’t pull back to look at him. Both of you, from the start of this, never looked at one another. Not once. Embarrassed and shameful to be honest, Jake thought. That pride you two shared. “You’re not mean to me here.”

But he needed to see you. You needed to be seen. So, as gently as he could, he unwrapped your arms around him, and took your baby cheeks in his hands, and looked you in the eyes. Another tear slipped from him. “You been listenin’ to me, right sweetheart? From the start?” You nodded adorably. You wouldn’t have said oel ngati kameie and accepted to let him see you if you hadn’t felt his true intentions and heart through him pouring it all out at the Tree of Souls. “I’m hiding a lot of things. But I want to be open with you. You wanna know the secret why I’m… mean?” You nodded again, more reluctant this time. “It’s because I’m scared.”

You gasped, genuinely lost and shocked, and he tried not to smile at the purity, the innocence. “You? You’re scared?”

“All the damn time,” he whispered, landing a kiss on your temple, his opposite thumb tracing a loving line on your other temple. “Every day. Every night.”

“But you’re Toruk Makto. You’re never scared.”

“I’m also a dad,” he said sorrowfully, as if he was giving out a secret. “And it’s precisely why I’m scared. I’m scared for you. For your siblings. Of losing you. It turns into anger. Anger turns into irreparable damage. Things I can’t take back.”

In the blink of an eye, you were back to your real age. For some reason he couldn’t quite grasp, you had shed the exterior of your childhood. But he didn’t mind, didn’t let you off his lap.

“Don’t be scared, I’m here,” you said, putting your own small palm on his cheek, upset by the fact that he was feeling like that in the first place rather than whatever explanation he had. Your response was also childish, but he leaned into your touch anyway, comforted regardless, even if you were already gone — for this moment, he could ignore that no, you weren’t here at all. “If you told us, we would have been more careful not to make you sad.”

Ah, he was being lectured on communication by his kid. It had a certain flavor of humbleness to it. Jake adored it nonetheless. “I know,” he said, “I’m sorry. I won’t be mean anymore.”

“That’s a lie.”

Jake couldn’t stop the laugh, though it was tottering. “Yeah, it is. But I promise you that I’ll never hurt you again.”

“That’s a lie too. Wasn’t it you who said not to make promises you can’t keep?”

“Alright, smartypants, let me rephrase it then,” the little glimpses of your brash self made him happy. “I will never intentionally hurt you, and if I end up doing so, unknowingly, I will always make it up to you. No exceptions.”

You were acting uninterested, but stole intrigued glances at him. “How are you gonna make it up to me?”

“I’ll let you choose, how does that sound?” Jake tapped your nose. “In return, if I don’t know and haven’t taken the first step, you’ll have to tell me outright what I did.”

You deadpanned. “But I always do.”

“No, you don’t.” He raised one of his eyebrows. “You become passive-aggressive when you’re annoyed and pick fights with me.”

“That’s not—”

“Sweetheart.”

“Okay, fine.” You huffed. The normalcy had made him forget just what he was doing here. “But you get angry.”

“What I get angry at is—” He cut himself off with a tongue click. “Not important. I do get angry. But at sincere honesty, us just talking it out, I could never get angry at that. Is the difference clear?”

“I think it is.” You were apprehensive about something, your fingers on his neck flexing as if you wanted to pull them back and break the hug. “But you have to promise.”

“I promise.” And then, Jake remembered, a new fire hardening his face, not in anger, but determination. “And speaking of which. I would never. Ever. Not in a million years would get angry or blame you for getting hurt to that degree — for others, humans, avatars, whoever and whatever the hell they are, hurting you, I could never get mad at you for it. Do you understand me? Your safety is the most important to me. I could never hate you for it.” His voice dropped down to a softer, gentler tone just above a whisper. “There is nothing in this world that’ll make me hate you. Nothing. I will love you through the most heinous crimes and in inexcusable deeds, you will find forgiveness in me even if there’s nobody left, that’s a father’s heart. Forever and always, I am with you.” He touched his forehead, and then yours. “I see you.”

You avoided eye contact.

Ah, yes, the famous emotional awkwardness. He was sort of aware his feelings had reached you, you just didn’t know what to say. Jake hadn’t been like this with you for the longest time. So, he decided to make you more comfortable. “Yes I will get mad at you for breaking curfew, and yes, we might stop talking for a while and beef about the dumbest things if the fight is too intense — but always, always come to me when something is wrong. I will drop everything without hesitation.” He leaned in a bit to catch your wayward stare. “Got it?”

You murmured. “Okay.”

“Are we clear?”

You murmured once more. “Yeah.”

“Repeat it, then.”

There was something between cringing and unwillingness on your face, but at his pointed look, you sighed, giving in. “Always come to you if something’s wrong even if we’re fighting.”

“That’s right,” he affirmed, encouraging to let you know this wasn’t embarrassing. “What else?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Dad will always love you.” He nudged you, noting the flick of your ears in happiness when he’d said it. “Come on, say it.”

You didn’t look at him when you said it, but your voice was light. “Dad will always love me…”

“Dad will never hate you.”

Sheepishness took over, making Jake smile. “Dad will never hate me.”

“And. Come talk to me about it if I’ve ever hurt you without noticing so I can make it up to you.”

“Always go to you if I’m hurt and you’re unaware of it.”

“That’s right,” in this form as well, he gave your temple another kiss, heart soaring at your beautiful smile he had been dying to see. “Good girl.”

“You’re giving me a lot of power.”

“Nothing my mighty hunter can’t handle.”

The smile on your face died down. It came to Jake right away what had gone wrong. “Sweetheart—” “I didn’t mean that. You know—” But you didn’t know. Jake had to stop trying to make it easier on himself. “I’m proud of you. I’m so proud of you. About everything. About the ikran, I’m so goddamn proud. I said it, and I can’t take that back, I was angry and I was trying reverse psychology — you know what, it doesn’t matter. But you are my mighty hunter. Will always be.”

You got confident a bit, but were still testing the waters. “Well I proved I am.”

“Yes, you did,” he rejoiced, no rejection or doubt whatsoever. “Message received, Lima Charlie.”

You giggled freely, joyfully at the recognition, and Jake ached again remembering how much he’d missed that carefree, precious thing, he swore pixie dust was in it. You slipped from his lap to sit crossed-legged beside him, and he instantly missed being able to hold you close. “Wish you were there to see me.”

“Me too, sweet girl.” Your Iknimaya was a disaster. A long-passed, sacred tradition broken wasn’t as important to him as it was to Neytiri — but he knew she longed to see you complete it, by your side, as eagerly as he did. And you had been alone in your pride, when he knew from a very young age, you had been the most excited for it. Everything had been ruined and there was nothing he could do to undo it. “Will you tell me about it?”

The phantom of pensiveness on his face hadn’t quite registered with you yet, getting excited to tell him all about it like nothing had happened the moment you knew Jake wanted to know. As if you weren’t dead. As if nothing was wrong. “Well first of all, I broke Neteyam’s record.”

A mournful smile tugged on his lips. “Did you now?”

“Hell yeah!” You started gesturing with your arms. “It took, like, two minutes? One minute? Too easy.”

“You know easy means the ikran didn’t give you much of a fight, right?”

“Or, or.” One finger was raised up at him to raise another option. “I was too skilled.”

“The ikran might have been meh about you.” Jake teased. “You sure it chose you? Or did you just chase it down and it was stuck with you?”

“That’s so wrong!” He threw his head back to laugh at your outburst. “He was watching me get there the whole time! Like, from the start. His eye was on me, I just know it. You’re just jealous you didn’t get Bob like I got Jack. I was badass.”

That made him pause. “Jack?”

“Yeah, his name’s Jack.”

He couldn’t imagine Neytiri’s reaction to the blandest name imaginable, oh god. “Why?”

“Named him after you.” You tipped your head at him, raising your brows. “It’s healing, you know. He listens to me without questioning. He’s also very sweet. Unlike a certain someone.”

“Oh you little shit—”

“I didn’t say anything.” Raising your hands in defense first, you crossed your arms on your chest next. “Certain someone can mean anyone. It can mean Lo’jack—”

“Lo’jack, really? Really?” Jake half-snorted, half-scoffed. “This a new one after Lovak?”

“Jackiri—”

“Jackiri is pretty sweet, c’mon now,” he gave a blank stare. “Hope you’re not gonna say Jackeyam.”

“Jacktirey?” You asked, undecided. “She’s an anklebiter.”

“Oh, for sure.”

“Could be Jack the Ripper, Bojack Horseman, Jack-in-a-box. Jack-o-lantern.”

“All people, of course.”

“Yeah, all people.” You snapped your fingers in mock-remembrance. “Hit the road Jack.”

“Oh wow, even him?” Jake lowered his voice, leaning towards you, mocking astonishment. “Legendary figure, that guy.”

“Jack of All Trades.”

“Well, that ikran really seems to be one to me.”

“I know, right?” You stopped, and he saw that thought process, and before he could open his mouth, you blurted it out. “Unlike a certain someone I know.”

“You punk.” Jake pushed you lightly by your shoulder. “You’re pushin’ it.”

You smiled with all your teeth at him, with hands on your calves, leaning down to act cute, and Jake could pretend this was normal. That he’d fixed everything. And all was right in the world now that you were laughing with him — he’d made you smile. .

But suddenly you looked scared, looking at something over his shoulder, shrunken pupils focusing on him and whatever it was rapidly. It kicked him awake from his delusion. He tensed, tail jumping upwards, straight as a rod. “What is it, sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

Your breath hitched, and the next thing he knew, you had pushed him away, and he was falling towards the water. The last thing he saw was only a blur of you — the bioluminescent bugs became shooting stars with a thread of glow left behind them, the whole world tilted, but he didn’t hit the water, instead, he rolled down the small slope he had to climb to reach the tree.

Disoriented, he saw the root was almost split in half — bullet marks, a cloud of splinters and debris was flying around where he used to be sitting.

A lone avatar just ahead. Having made it all the way to the Tree of Souls. He didn’t know where this man had come from.

Heart picking up and roaring in his ears, all Jake could think about was, One chance.

He hadn’t even spoken to you properly yet, hadn’t said all the things he wanted to, hadn't even gotten your word, and this man — this son of a bitch — humans had taken you once again.

Once again.

You will only have one chance.

“Lucky asshole,” the man looked at him behind the barrel of the long assault rifle. “Gonna make you pay for what you pulled yesterday.”

Your ethereal smile going up in smokes at the back of his head, Jake saw red.

taglist: @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis@alohastitch0626 @jackiehollanderr @lucciera @qvrcll @iloveavatar @velvtcherie @ssc7514 @goldenmoonbeam @neteyamforlife @itsluludoll @jakesullys-bitch @blubrryy @sully-stick-together @arminsgfloll @alice121804 @noname2246 @justthingzsblog @eywamygoddess @m-1234 @ellabellabus07 @hellok1ttycake @dakotali @bluefire12348 @abbersreads @yellooaaa @aimsro @octavias-next-meat-bite @nikqdn @nao-cchi @spicycloudsalad @yeosxxx @heybiatchz @winxschester @elegantkidfansoul @eichenhouseproperty @kakimakiloh @dueiosy @liyahsocorro @dimplesxx @tigresslily@n8ivatar @strnqer @lillybbyy @jakesullyssluttt @r3dc4ndy @myheartfollower @gcldtom @bunnyrose01 @aceofheartzzz @ghoulbli @slasherfcker505 @ducks118 @megsthings @graykageyama @gwolf92

@thotd-f1 @httpjiikook @nipoxe @fussel9913 @gloryekaterina @nxptury @thesheelfsworld @heyyitsmaiaa @anyasullyyy @rey26 @in-luvais @em-100 @n7cje @kpopslur @holysaladapricothero @dedicateeverythingtomilkshake @maviee @grxcisxhy-wp @me-marilm @n39ro-chann

#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader

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flyingcakeee · 2 months

Text

Friendly little post of what to expect from the Chinese GP next week!

Our 1st of 6 sprint races this season:

Drivers will have 1 practice session to get acquainted to the track before the sprint shootout(quali). Next day, we start with the sprint race and then move onto the actual qualifying. Finally, race on Sunday as usual.

What does this mean?

If an accident or issue happens on track during the FP session, drivers will lose out on the only practice time they have. Drivers also must be careful not to damage their cars in practice or the sprint race lest they run the risk of not making either qualifyings. This will be extremely important for the three teams who don't possess a spare chassis.

Surface repavement!

The track surface has been repaved in order to prevent any unwanted bumps in the track from hurting these cars and provide a smoother ride.

What does this mean?

Any possibility of rain can make the track super dangerous, paired with the absolute lack of rubber on the track these cars provide. A repaved track can be your gateway into red flagged sessions over track issues or accidents if a driver pushes a bit too hard on a low rubbered area of track.

Note: the rubber that comes off the tyres are essential for grip, hence why you see faster times being posted later in sessions as more rubber is laid down and grip rises.

An interesting and for a few, new, layout!

China is a very interesting circuit with 2 long straights, two slow speed and tight first turns, and very few true high speed turns. On top, there is only 2 DRS zones placed back to back with the straights really close to each other. On top of this, 4 current drivers have not ever driven this track before (minus sim). Those drivers are Oscar Piastri, Logan Sargeant, Yuki Tsunoda, and Zhou Guanyu (not only his home race, but his home city race as he is from Shanghai!). No reserve driver besides Antonio Giovinazzi of Ferrari has driven this circuit either as Mick Schumacher just missed out due to covid.

What does this mean?

The teams that lack straight line speed may struggle significantly within the first few laps before the back essentially falls apart if they are not able to utilize the 16 turns as their aid. On the contrary, teams who may be stronger at straight line speed could see the turns really hurt them and they'd need to utilize these two straights to the best of their abilities.

However, the most important part about this track is the first and last turns. Usually you'll always see action within the first few turns of a track. At the Shanghai circuit, turns 1-3 is a very tight hairpin-esque turn which not only curls in on itself before turning to a tight turn the opposite direction, it will maybe be the first place we see any action or even none at all. However, our last 3 turns may also be of interest as well. Turn 14-15 is a combined turn like the first 3, however not as tight. This means that this is essentially the hairpin on the track and if a driver makes a move further down the long straight, their approach and exit out of this turn will cement their position, at least for the time being. Turn 16 is a somewhat sharp turn that will see any finishing or comeback moves for the hairpin, especially since the DRS detection point is right before the turn. At the end of this tiny straight, as well, is the pit entry where we could see drama arise with any miscommunication if there is any (it is the more extended out version of the Belgian/Spa pit entry).

Weather forecast?

Currently, it's too early to tell with conflicting reports of either up to 70% rain for the whole weekend, 55% for Friday and Saturday, and a dry weekend.

What does this mean?

Well, we have yet to see how any car performs in wet weather with comparisons to each other, especially because if a practice session is wet but a race isn't, you're less likely to see cars leave the garage. Unfortunately for the teams, this won't be possible in China due to the fact the surface is new and for 4 teams, the track is new to the driver as well.

Speaking of new surface, any rain could make the surface extra slippery than anticipated due to the fact standing water and a track not worn in yet would make it's appearance.

Keep an eye out on the weather as we get closer!

Extra info!

There haven't been any ground effect era cars to ever race this circuit meaning no driver knows exactly what to expect from their car's performance on this track.

Alexander Albon, Lando Norris, and George Russell have only driven on this track once meaning that McLaren and Williams are the least prepared driver wise as both Albon and Norris have teammates who've never driven the circuit before.

China has a lot of grandstands which they don't use for people and instead advertisement because they didn't have enough people attending. Look out for some interesting advertisement placement!

Zhou Guanyu will be the first Chinese driver to take on a Chinese circuit in F1! And not only was Zhou Guanyu born in China, he was born in Shanghai which is the very city this track is held in. This means him and Charles Leclerc are the only drivers to be able to race in the city they were born in. (Edit: Completely forgot that, yes, Oscar Piastri and Lance Stroll both have a home city race)

There is a lot of talk buzzing around in the paddocks surrounding seat changes and whatnot. There may be more news after the 2 Chinese races.

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tethered-heartstrings · 11 months

Text

will graham, the collector of strays with no home, no family. left out in the world to fend for themselves. giving them a place that is warm and welcome, someone to trust. loyalty and love. strays he would risk his life for. and then he meets hannibal. another stray without a pack, and then will becomes the first person hannibal is truly vulnerable and open with. the fact will tells hannibal he would miss his dogs but not him, directly comparing hannibal to his dogs, almost admitting they were comparable to him in some way. chiyoh telling hannibal some beasts should not be caged. hannibal seeing himself as better than people and will seeing dogs as better than people, preferring the company of his dogs and hannibal. hannibal having an extremely heightened sense of smell, able to detect disease and cancer. hannibal also asking will after three years apart if he "came to get the old scent back" like a dog trying to recognize and remember an old friend. "man's best friend" being a dog, and will is constantly trying to figure out where he and hannibal stand, eventually saying "he was my friend. I wanted to run away with him." dolarhyde killing the family dog first to eliminate the alarm system and shooting hannibal first. the fact will was told "I’ve muzzled the dog, now you need to put it down" when he was asked to kill hannibal. how desperately hannibal wanted a family, trying to curate a pack of his own to run away with him. the "prized meat" of wolves and dogs being the organs, eaten first and often leaving the lean muscle of the carcass behind. the fact dogs will hunt in packs and by the end of the show, will and hannibal finally kill together and that was all hannibal wanted for them. and while it isn't the true origin of the word, the word "cannibal" as we know it today was connected to the word "canis" aka dog by 16th century writers in reference to their shared voracity.....

#no wonder will liked him. dogcoded af #the last point is a HUGE stretch i am aware but i had to add it #will graham #hannibal lecter #hannibal #hannibal nbc #nbc hannibal #hannigram #murder husbands #hannibal meta #hannigram meta #the theoretical clown

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universallychaoticpan · 2 months

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Hiiiiiii can I request where Chuuya and Fyodor's s/o got captured by Dazai to be interrogate and torture for info but there's no need to do that because s/o just tells Dazai all the half-truths BUT IN RIDDLES and also s/o despite being put in an isolated glass room she is still very much in control of the situation and she can honestly get out of the room anytime she wants but not without spilling some blood ofcourse.

You really should get out more - that's what you were thinking anyway. Sure, getting kidnapped and interrogated by the ADA wasn't on your agenda for the day, but hey, plans change all the time. You smiled, flexing your wrists in the fragile cuffs keeping them behind your back.

The key was always remaining flexible.

So yes, you were quite relaxed. Your underground 'prison' was devoid of any distractions, but as always, you were never one to waste times when there were silver linings to be found. It allowed you time; time to think, to plot, to come up with a thousand escape plans, all involving varying degrees of blood and gore. Fyodor wouldn't come to your aid- you were sure of that much. Perhaps that would be insulting to others, but to you, the message was clear: he trusted you. He trusted that his little bird, his little love, his darling with the knife-tipped fingers and the bloody smile would find their way back to him no matter what. It would be child's play, getting out; another thing you knew for certain. Even with the ADA trapping you, you had deduced a few critical facts. One- they had hidden your current location from you, leaving you in the dark as to where you were. Two- the amounts of time between visitors averaged around an hour between each encounter. Three- They always came in alone, and there were only three suspects you'd come to expect. The conclusion you had come to made you smile even wider in your solitude: not only were they weakened significantly, their members were stretched far too thin to possibly stand a chance at containing you if it came down to it.

yes, you knew it sure as you knew your own name.

And it maddened the man sitting across the room from you despite his best attempts to hide it.

Osamu Dazai was quickly falling into a battle of wits with you, baited by your silence and your odd little smiles.

"You already know my question," he smiled, approaching you. "So I'll ask again for the last location of Fyodor's base of operations as you know it."

"And my answer has not changed, detective- you're an even bigger idiot than you look if you think I'm simply going to tell you." Instead of keeping your eyes lowered in some vain attempt to hide any 'tells,' you kept your eyes up. You stared him down, lips curling up into a pleasant smile. "You're welcome to leave and send in another one of your associates to try again."

He turns away, sneering as he striped off his coat, dropping it on the floor before revealing a wickedly pointed knife that reflected the slightly deranged gleam in his eyes. They chilled you, those eyes- how similar they were to Fyodor's, not in appearance maybe, but in their cool ruthlessness, in their kaleidoscopic depth that made you feel at once safe and critically endangered.

'I could hurt you, you know," he purred, slipping behind you, roughly pulling your head back by your hair and exposing the smooth column of your throat to him.

"You could," you agree, still smiling. "But what good will spilling my blood do you? Other than making me more inclined to lie in order to stop the pain...Really, what cards do you have to play? You have no way of proving what I say is true; anything I tell you is tantamount to sending you on a wild goose chase even if it is true. I suppose you could kill me, but then you've lost the closest chance you have at finding the man you seek." His eyes narrow as you chuckle. "And the longer you wait to decide what to do with me, the higher the risk grows that I will grow bored and simply walk away, leaving you lot empty handed." You swallow hard as the blade finds your jugular, a slip of a finger being the difference between life and death.

"And anyway, you've walked on the ground you seek already...it's not my fault you're too blind to see it. At this point your wasting my time, running in circles when you've found the answer. You dogs, detectives- you'd rather gnaw on the bone of a satisfying interrogation than tie up the loose ends you've already begun to unravel! The answer is so simple, you've never even thought to look- the easiest way to confuse smart people, I find, is to make the solutions to their problems the most obvious one."

You're close enough that you can register the look that crosses Dazai's face- the look of a man who's been given the all important device when it comes to solving any puzzle: a clue.

"Where?"

You let your head fall to the side, nicking your skin in the process. "Oh no, detective, I'm afraid that's all I'm inclined to offer.

Your intentions were clear - goading a man like Osamu Dazai was a dangerous game, and yet here you were. He spun the knife in his hands, until the point hovered directly above your heart. "Where?"

This time, you simply let your head fall back, smiling insipidly as you feel your ability floating at the edges of your consciousness, begging you to harness it.

"Really?" His voiced hissed in your ear, venomous and angry as he began to lose his patience. "You talk too much too often and choose now to be silent?"

"You talk too much detective-

next time, I would advise you to keep your eyes on the hands of your captives rather than their mouths."

In the time it takes to blink, you had him on the wall, as you used your hands to wrap the handcuffs around his throat and squeeze, his knife now tucked neatly against his pulse point.

"I warned you, detective- next time, I advise you to not let me get bored."

You smiled sweetly at him one last time, tightening the chain as you pecked his cheek.

"Do svidaniya!"

#bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd #bungo stray dogs #fyodor x reader #bsd fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader

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ponderingmoonlight · 10 months

Text

Touch her and you'll burn

Pairing: boyfriend!Gojo x fem!reader; Toji x reader (kinda?)

Word Count: 2,8k

Synopsis: When it comes to Satoru Gojo, you are his true weakness - after all, you've been his girlfriend for years. Toji doesn't miss that either and takes you prisoner without further ado in order to get at the white-haired man.

Warnings: violence, death, tortue, mentions of sa, hurt, language

„What a cute little thing you are. Too bad you chose the wrong guy as your fuck buddy. How did you two end up anyway? I bet it’s because he’s tall and his special appearance, you women all tick the same way. Whatever, let’s see how I will kill you today, sweetie. And maybe we can have some fun before, what do you think, huh?”

“Rot in hell, fucking asshole.”

You spit directly into the way too close face of none other than Toji Fushiguro. The man that broke into your apartment, drugged and hauled you into this dark and dirty room that is only lit by one small lightbulb. Your hands are chained to the ceiling, you’ve been kneeling on the floor for what feels like an eternity now. Not the best starting point to be honest.

“I love my women feisty, little bitch. Listen up.”

His rough hand yanks on your chin so harshly that you can’t help but stare straight into his cold eyes which are only inches away from yours. Sweat drips from your forehead against your already bleeding nose, your body slowly but surely begins to tremble from the cold and exhaustion.

“There are exactly two options for you. One: That fucker appears and you both die while trying to save your cute ass. Two: He’ll let you rot in here and I’ll kill you all alone. If I were you, I’d be nicer to the man who’s been taking such good care of me for the last hours and who’s responsible for my death.”

“My parents taught me not to talk to strangers, especially the stinky and homeless ones. Save your breath”, you hiss back.

His palm crushes against your soft cheek without any mercy. Dizziness consumes you instantly, your lifeless head falls to the side while blood squirts out of your nose again. Fuck, that hurt pretty bad. But still a quiet laughter escapes your lips. Does he really think he can crush your will with a few punches? Pathetic. You may not be a jujutsu sorcerer, but you’re damn though. It’s not the first time that you have to deal with assholes like him because of your precious boyfriend Satoru Gojo. He definitely owns you a shopping tour after that.

“What are you laughing about, brat?”

“Just thinking about how Satoru will kick your ass later”, you bark through gritted teeth.

“First he has to find me. I’m a non-jujutsu sorcerer, just like you. So he can’t detect me by my curse power either. Your mobile phone and your pathetic GPS necklace are in your apartment, Gojo didn’t protect you with his powers. Hurts huh? Apparently the other girl's more important to him. Treats you pretty badly, don’t you think?”

You don’t like to admit it, but his words make your heart ache for a brief moment. Deep down, you know that it was his job to protect her, that he cares about you the most even though you haven’t seen him in days now. Would he even risk her life to save yours? He told you over and over that you are his priority, his everything. But…you don’t know.

Will Satoru come at all?

You sink into your chains and stare at the man and his mischievous grin in front of you. It doesn’t matter if Satoru searches for you or finds you. But you won’t let Toji bring you to your knees so easily.

His gaze wanders through the room while he casually strides around. He needs to stay focused. Gojo is probably the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of his lifetime. Kidnapping his girlfriend to weaken him and divert his attention from Riko is a smart move, but risky if Toji isn’t careful. And then there’s the fact that (y/n) is a pain in the ass herself.

“Where ya lookin’? I’m the view, asshole.”

“No wonder a slut like you is the girlfriend of someone like that Gojo guy. I’ll shut up your pretty little mouth soon enough.”

“Did you just say I’m pretty?”

Your maniac grin and disrespect catches Toji off guard. Of course he knew you would be a handful, but he’s a well-known assassin. Damn, he could kill you in a heartbeat if he wanted to, are you too dumb to see that? Is your trust in your stupid boyfriend really this big? Maybe he should in fact kill you instantly.

“I’d love to wring your throat right away, but before that I’ll show you where your place is.”

All color drains from your face in an instant, cheeky grin gone in the wind. Fuck, this asshole is about to unbuckle his belt. Your throat is tight, it’s like you’ve forgotten how to breathe…Will he really? You shake your head in disbelief, limbs fighting desperately against the merciless force of the chains around your bloody wrists. No, you can’t let this happen. You would rather die than allow this man to touch you with his disgusting hands.

“Cat got your tongue, huh? What’s up, (y/n)? Don’t worry, I’ll show you what you’ve missed before you die.”

Toji wraps his arm around your waist and presses his muscular body against yours. The urge to puke into his face becomes unbearable as well as your impatience. Where the fuck is Satoru? You close your eyes in a desperate attempt to calm your thoughts and breathing. Even a man like him wouldn’t dare to assault you, not the girlfriend of Gojo Satoru. But since he’s not here at the moment, you’ll just have to take care of that situation yourself.

When you open your eyes again, there’s not a spark of humor left in them – pure determination and rage draw your face. With all the strength you are able to gather in your poor condition you put your head in your neck and yank it forward as hard as possible against his nose. You ignore the throbbing pain that seems to radiate from your forehead all over your body and the nausea that suddenly overcomes you. This is not over. Bracing your body against the chains, you push yourself off the ground and kick his chest hard with both legs. His huge frame stumbles backwards while his loud groan fills the room.

You breathe heavy, sight almost completely obscure by the waterfall of blood that streams down your head. With a satisfaction – filled grin you notice his bleeding nose. Serves him right, stupid asshole. He just shouldn’t have messed with you. After all, just because you are a non-jujutsu sorcerer doesn’t mean you’re not good at defending yourself. Who does this guy think he even is anyway?

Fuck, Toji rushes towards you with quick steps, the muscles under his tight shirt are dangerously tense. Not good. But even worse is that all you can do is stare at him through your tired lids and let him approach you. Damn, he is fucking furious.

“That blood really suits you, brings out your icy-murderer eyes, y’know. Man, you’d be so fucking hot if you weren’t a stone cold asshole. Could get yourself a nice girl.”

At this point, your words aren’t more than an uncovered fading whisper anymore. You are just so fucking tired of hanging in this room and fighting a hopeless battle. At least you die in style.

“Nice show, slut. But that’s it for you now. I hope you realize that I could have just dodged your pathetic punches. Just like that”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

With a swift motion of his arm, he grips your wrist and twists it. You see stars, bones audible shattering in your body. All color that is left in your face drains instantly, a cry filled with ache reverberates around the room and rings back in your ears. You feel like you’re going to lose consciousness at any moment. No, stay awake, bark back, show him that you don’t care.

But you can’t.

His right hand clenches into a fist. As if in slow motion, you watch it move towards your face. This is gonna hurt like hell, maybe you should close your eyes and pretend none of this is happening. You at the beach with Satoru, his delicious body exposed to the sun and your merciless eyes, dipping his face into the water over and over again until he begs you to stop. Yeah, that would be nice. Satoru…You love him so much that it hurts sometimes, some say you two are obsessed with each other. He wears you on his hands, you’re the only one who can match his sense of humor and has the ability to put up with his lifestyle. He would never allow that any harm touches your delicate skin, that you get involved into his work as a jujutsu sorcerer. But today it seems like he can’t save you. At least you can say you fought back as much as you could.

“Touch her and you’ll burn.”

Your eyes snap open immediately. There he stands, your boyfriend, your knight in shining armor with his sunglasses casually covering his bright blue orbs.

“What are you doing, (y/n)?”, he questions ironically while slowly approaching the both of you.

“I’m just out here being cute, y’know”, you mumble with a small smirk.

Satoru gives you a loving smile. At that moment you just know that everything is going to be okay, that he will kill Toji for tormenting you and that you’ll meet again in the sheets this evening.

“Took you quite a while to get here”, Toji comments dryly and turns away from you.

The moment his big frame moves away a wave of relief washes over you. If Satoru had come just a second later Toji might have filleted you and you are very aware of that. You are no longer interesting for Toji, after all you served your purpose as decoy.

With a swift motion, your boyfriend frees your hands from the chains that have already cut deep into your tender flesh. Your knees meet the hard concrete floor in an instant, your body is too weak to stand up on its own.

“Come on (y/n), get yourself together and walk out of that room. Suguru will meet up with you. This is about to get pretty ugly.”

The air is filled with thick tension as both men stand still and just look at each other. He’s right. You have to get up, get out of this fucking room, find Suguru. If you stay here you are only an obstacle to Satoru.

“Your girlfriend is quite a pain in the ass. Well, at least she’s hot, I see where you’re coming from.”

“Beat his ass a few times more for me”, you breathe out.

You can do this. With all the strength you have left in your body, you lift your aching limbs off the ground and stumble to the door. Satoru positions himself in front of you, alert in chase Toji wants to attack you.

“Hit me up later, sweetheart.”

“Thank you for saving me. Even if it’s technically your fault I was trapped here.”

“How rude!”

With one last glance at you, he closes the door by one rapid motion of his arm.

You can’t help but let out a sign of relief. Fuck, this was a very close call – too close for your liking. Again your body lets you down and sinks onto the dirty ground in an instant. Your limbs are trembling, your mind goes numb. If you stay awake a little longer, you are able to find Suguru and get out of here…

“(y/n)?”

You would recognize his voice everywhere. How much you’d like to call out his name now so that he can find you and get you away from here, but the corners of your saggy mouth don’t move an inch. The ability to speak seems to be failing you completely at this point.

“(y/n)!”

Are you dying? You’re not sure. But your thoughts completely drift away until they’re utterly still. Finally rest, finally no more pain, finally-

“There you are (y/n). Stay awake okay? Let’s meet up with Shoko.”

The fear in Sugurus voice is unmistakable. His arms gently wrap themselves around your knees and back before lifting you up with ease.

“I hope you drove him insane with your talking”, Suguru gently whispers while sprinting down dark hallways.

“You bet I did.” ______________________________________________________________

God, you feel terrible. The second your thoughts begin to race again your whole body seems to be on fire. Your opened eyes get greeted by harsh lights.

“Can someone turn this the fuck off”, you mumble.

“Oh, there you are (y/n). Took you quite a while to get back to us.”

You recognize this voice. It’s Shoko, you’re with Shoko. That can only mean that Suguru brought you here. You must have passed out shortly after he found you. Your mind is clouded by faded memories and pain. What happened last? You were kidnapped and tortured by Toji Fushiguro, Satoru…Satoru was there, he saved you. After that, Suguru got you to safety.

“Where are they?”

Shoko sits next to you, a cigarette hanging from her mouth.

“This thing has gotten pretty ugly, (y/n)…But you’d better rest a little. Your boyfriend should explain this to you himself.”

“Are they fine?”

Your eyes are widened in horror. That look of worry on Shoko’s face is so unfamiliar to you that it makes your guts twist in thick fear. If something happened to Suguru because of you…Could Satoru defeat Toji all by himself? He is the strongest, right? Surely he had no problem with killing a basic non jujutsu sorcerer.

“Look who’s awake.”

Suguru’s figure is so tall that he dims the lights that irritated you before. He looks like he’s wearing a halo – how suiting.

“Suguru, you’re alright. Please tell me you’re okay”, you mumble, mouth still not able to process your battling thoughts.

“I’m fine again. Don’t worry.” There it is, his usual bright smile. But something’s different. You can tell that the corners of his mouth don’t pull up as far as usual, that he looks overall…defeated.

“What…What happened? Where is Satoru?”

You can hear your own voice trembling in anticipation. Fuck, he would have been by your side the whole time if everything was alright. Your last encounter plays like a movie in your head. Did Toji?...This can’t be. It’s simply not possible.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting!”

The sight next to Suguru makes you nauseous. Satoru’s uniform is completely torn and blood soaked, you can detect a small wound on his forehead, his white hair discolored in crimson. And god his eyes…He looks possessed. No, that can’t be your boyfriend. You hardly recognize him.

“Satoru, is that you?”

“The one and only! I did it (y/n). I killed that man!”

He roughly grabs your upper arms and leans over you. The weight of his huge frame against your throbbing skin takes your breath away. A whimper of agony escapes your lips while you squint and screw up your face.

“Back off, Satoru, you’re hurting her!”, Shoko yelps in an desperate attempt to free you from his grip.

“Look at me, (y/n)! I finally mastered reverse cursed technique and killed Toji for what he did to you. Anami was murdered as well as basically everyone else, but I did this for you! We both survived!”

The maniac look in his eyes sends shivers down your spine. What has gotten into him?

“Satoru, are you on drugs? Let go off me!”, you cry out.

“I think we should get going now. See you, (y/n)”, Suguru interrupts and yanks Satoru away from you.

“B-But…I need answers! Get your ass back here! What’s the matter with you two!?”

“Don’t ask questions I don’t have the answer to (y/n).”

With one last look both men leave you alone with Shoko. What just happened? The girl…she’s dead? So Toji killed her after all. And the bruises on Satoru…Fuck, maybe that man was stronger than you thought. But he’s also dead, right? Your head begins to spin with all the scenarios that cloud your mind. You need answers, you need to talk to Satoru, you need to-

“You need to rest, (y/n). This one will blow you away.”

Her fingers snap against the syringe in her hand. Your eyes widen in shock, heartbeat picking up in an instant. No, you can’t sleep now, you need to talk to Satoru, he needs to explain what happened to him, why he looks so torn, why Suguru’s eyes were so empty.

“Wait Shoko, I-I need to t-talk t-to…”

A sharp stab in your upper arm. Then darkness. Nothing but darkness.

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo saturo #satoru gojo #fushiguro toji #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

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oakendesk · 10 months

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Best True Fact Detective Jan 1952

Howell Dodd

#golden age art #pulp magazine art #pulp art #pulp art 1952 #Best True Fact Detective #Howell Dodd art #byronrimbaud

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desperatemeasures-if · 1 year

Text

✶ DEMO (TBA) ✶

It's always the picture-perfect days that end the shittiest...

You had finally been having a good day after a horrible week-- nice weather, good company, and you got your manager off your ass-- but you should have known that was only the calm before the storm. A storm that completely rips apart not only your life but that of your family-- not the ones related by blood, you had given up on them long ago, but the people that had taken you in and given you a home. The Vipers, the most reputable gang in the Northside of Riverwood, and the only family you had left.

The boss is dead... We have no leads.

A single message had completely turned your life on its head. The man that had singlehandedly saved you from yourself, from ending up face down in a gutter, was dead. You don't hesitate in volunteering to help hunt down his killer-- not if it meant protecting your family and avenging his death. Even if it means calling on your biggest rivals for help or getting assisted by an over-eager detective.

Desperate times called for desperate measures...

Desperate Measures is rated 18+ for explicit language, sexual themes, drug and alcohol use, violence, intense interrogations, blood, questionable behavior, and more.

✶ Features ✶ Character Intros (WIP) ✶

Customize your MC: appearance, parts of your personality, segments of your background, hobbies, vices, and more! Do you have what it takes to avenge the death of your mentor? Do you have a nickname that's specific to the Vipers?

While you're investigating make sure you maintain contact with your gang, and don't forget that you have a job. Even if it is just at a shitty cafe.

Romance is definitely something that is offered and will bring insightful moments to characters that may otherwise remain an enigma to you. Or, of course, you can strike up a friendship with them!

Find a killer and either take justice into your own hands, allow someone else to do it, or follow the law!

✶ The ROs ✶

Heather Grant ✶ She/Her ✶ 29 ✶

The Heiress of Riverwood Royalty, the Grant Family, and one of the only people that could offer assistance with the investigation-- with her limitless amount of resources and the fact that the Grant Family seemed to own all of Riverwood. The only problem? She absolutely hates the Vipers. Will you be able to come to some sort of middle ground?

Special Aspects: Enemies-to-Lovers, but will you be able even to blame her for her hatred in the end?

Damien Frost ✶ He/Him ✶ 29 ✶

A recently promoted detective within the RPD. A man that's been assigned the case, either out of pity or malevolence, you aren't quite sure, but Detective Frost isn't one to give up, even when all the odds seem to be stacked against him. In fact, he seems to have a penchant to appear wherever you are, and he doesn't seem to mind at all that he's working alongside criminals. He simply wants to get the crime solved. Is it only because he wishes to prove himself? Or is it something more?

Special Aspects: Law Enforcement Officer with a Gangster... Need I say more?

Stephen/Stephanie Matthews ✶ He/Him or She/Her ✶ 27 ✶

Stephen/Stephanie, or simply Stevie, is someone you know you can count on no matter what. They'd as easily offer you their last beer as they would knife someone in the gut to protect you. Your best friend since you joined the Vipers, being the one that had trained you after your initiation, it's no surprise that they join you on the hunt for the killer.

Special Aspects: Best Friends to Lovers

Gabriel/Gabriella DeLuca ✶ He/Him or She/Her ✶ 28 ✶

The other half of your motley crew within the Vipers. Gabby is known for a multitude of things within the Northside, being a jack of all trades when it comes to their skills, but their true trademark is the sea of broken hearts they've left in their wake. With a disarming smile and devil-may-care attitude, it isn't hard to understand how someone could be pulled into their axis. It's just escaping it unscathed that's the challenge.

Special Aspects: Have the option to be friends with benefits, or simply friends, and see how that could influence the possible romance to come.

Leon/Lena Prince ✶ He/Him or She/Her ✶ 28 ✶

The one person you wouldn't wish to run into within Riverwood-- having completely destroyed your relationship with them; possibly breaking their heart in the process. You haven't heard much about them since you left the Southside, but learning about them taking over the rival gang of the Vipers? Your week just couldn't get any better, could it?

Special Aspects: Exes-to-Rivals-to-Friends-to-Lovers (once more). Will you be able to build back the trust you lost?

#desperate measures #interactive fiction #interactive game #choice script #cog game #hosted game #dashingdon #if wip #no demo

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trippinsorrows · 8 days

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with me + part six

authors note: i'm very sorry in advance for how this ends, it was just getting wayyyy too long, and there was no good place to slice it in half, so i cut it before shit unfolds, so yes please don't hate me!!!

pairing: roman reigns x black!reader

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: fluff, language, suggestive dialogue, angst

song inspo: ‘with me’ by destiny’s child

words: 6.5k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

“Whoa.”

Mariah’s reaction is expected. Your living room, specifically the sofa, is occupied by several of Callie’s dolls. A tea party that you were so kindly invited to attend this morning.

“Girl, you should see her playroom. Pretty soon the floor is going to be non-visible.”

A small part of you regrets not trying to straighten up before Mariah came over, but this is also your literal best friend. You know she’s seen more than almost anyone else in your life, and she would never judge you, let alone over the state of your apartment when she has a child of her own.

Mariah looks over at you with a raised brow. “He did all this?” You nod. “Why?”

“Because she’s his little girl and of course he’s going to spoil her. A quote.” You chuckle as you and Mariah decide to just sit at the kitchen island. It’s probably best to leave the dolls untouched as Callie’s likely to wake up from her nap wanting to play again.

Mariah gives you a look. “You don’t find that weird?”

Confused, you ask, “what?”

Mariah shrugs and circles the top of her water bottle with her index finger. “I don’t know. He just found out about her, and now he’s buying her stuff? Seems like he’s trying to buy her love.”

“You don’t know Joe.” It’s an easy dismissal, because you do know him and know that’s the last thing on his mind. “That’s not him at all. He just wants to see her happy.”

Mariah looks unfazed and stands ten toes down, adding on, “then he should be here full time instead of randomly popping in.” You just look at her, slightly confused where this is coming from. “I mean, I’m happy she’s getting to know him, but this is all so messy, you know? He’s married. He has a wife, and he’s coming here seeing his secret child with his secret mistress.”

You can only look at her, stunned by her words, even if a small part of you knows there’s some element of truth. Joe swiftly dodged the only question you’ve asked about how and when he’s going to tell his wife about Callie. It was a valid question that deserved an answer. But the things Mariah is saying, you can’t tell if it angers you because it’s not true or hurts you because it is.

She seems to detect your conflicted emotions and reaches over with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be negative. I just remember how hard it was for you when you and Joe broke up the first time. I hated seeing you so hurt.”

“We’re not together, Mariah. We’re coparenting.” You hate how soft your voice is, giving away that her words now have your head spinning.

“So you honestly mean to tell me that you have no feelings for him? None whatsoever.” You can’t give her an answer, or either refuse to. It’s another valid question but the answer isn’t as simple for you to express. You know you feel something for Joe, but that could just be because of the fact that you two share a child together. There has to be some type of emotional connection between any two people who create life. “Exactly. Just be careful. He broke your heart once before. Don’t let him do it again.”

Your feelings are so mixed, agreeing with certain aspects of what’s being said and disagreeing with others. Mariah has triggered some big thoughts, ones that you probably should sort through at some point. You’re just not eager for right now to be that moment.

“Enough about me, what’s been going on with you?”

You pray she knows you well enough to know that you’re desperate to change the subject. “What do you mean?”

“I feel like we haven’t spoken much lately, and I know that’s partially on me. It’s just been a lot on my end, I’m sorry.”

She shrugs. “It’s cool.”

Something tells you that she’s just saying that, and there’s a level of bitterness towards you for the distance. But, you can’t allow yourself to be hurt by that, because it’s fair. Mariah has been too good of a friend to be ditched the minute your ex comes back around.

‘How are things with Caleb? Are you guys getting along any better?” Caleb and Mariah have only been married for two years but have already hit a rough patch, enough where he’s temporarily moved out of the house. Last you spoke with her, they were supposed to meet up to discuss what they were going to do, especially for the sake of Miach.

“Did you see him at my place last time you were there?” Her response is all you need to know that that is still a sensitive spot for her as well. Understandably so, but her shut down is so cold and unlike the sweet, gentle friend you’ve always known her to be. You were always known as the outspoken, brutal friend, though it seems that maybe as the years go by, the roles are reversing.

Unless there's something else at play.

—-------

Today is going to be a good day.

For Callie at least.

Your earlier conversation with Mariah, who seemed far too eager to leave when you mentioned Joe would be arriving in less than two hours, is still circulating in your head. You know she’s only trying to look out for you, and you’re very appreciative of that, but there was some undertone to the way she spoke to you that you can’t shake off. Like, it wasn’t coming just from a place of concern, but something else that didn’t seem as genuine.

“Mommy, why are we cleaning?”

Because mommy is too broke for a maid.

You instead settle on the answer, “because we want our home nice and clean, baby.”

“But, it is clean.” She’s not entirely wrong, it’s just every so often you like to deep clean, dusting, mopping, the extra shit that usually isn’t done with daily cleaning.

Taking a break from wiping down your kitchen counters with some overpriced cleaner you picked up from Target, you see Callie is ready to be done, the dust rag you’d given here now sitting on the coffee table.

With a heavy sigh, you ask, “you wanna play, don’t you?” Her eyes widen and her head nods enthusiastically. A quick glance at the clock indicates that Joe should be knocking at your door any minute, so you try to buy some more time. “Alright, let mommy finish here, and I’ll come play with you.”

“Yay!”

Chuckling, you listen to the sound of her run in the direction of her playroom while you finish scrubbing the counters, even if they’re as clean as they can get. It’s most likely a result of all the overthinking you’ve done the past few hours. The older you get, the more you realize you’ve become that ‘i’m anxious, so let’s clean until we’re physically exhausted’ mom. Which, technically, isn’t a horrible thing, but it’s also probably not the best way to deal with your emotions.

Not that you’ve always been the best with that either.

And that’s when you hear it, the solid two knocks you’ve been waiting for all morning.

Smiling, you call out for Callie who marches out seconds later with a doll in her hand. “You wanna see who’s at the door for mommy?” Callie looks rightfully confused. At the same time you taught her how to open, close, and lock the door because you never know what can happen, you stressed to her that she is to never open it without permission or unless during an emergency. So, you emphasize, “it’s okay.”

Shrugging, she skips, literally skips to the door. You chuckle. This kid has so much damn personality. Moving to the sink to rinse your hands, you move slowly, waiting for it.

A loud gasp. “Joe!”

You can mentally picture the absolute surprise and happiness splashed over her little face. Grabbing the towel to dry your hands, Joe walks in holding Callie who you haven’t seen look so happy since the last time Joe was in town.

“Mommy, Joe’s here!”

Kids announcing the most obvious things will always be hilarious. “He sure is.” Leaning against the counter, you focus on him. “Hey.” He looks good, but he always looks good. That was always the damn problem.

He takes in you for a second, eyes lingering longer than what’s probably necessary, “hey.” He easily returns his attention back to Callie who can’t seem to stop smiling, which makes you smile. You love seeing her so happy. "I missed you."

"I missed you too!" She glances over at you, partially contrite. “Mommy, I’m gonna play with Joe instead, okay?”

You pretend to be shocked, standing upright and crossing your arms and making a face before laughing, waving her off.

“That’s fine, baby, because I am going to take a nap.” It’s much needed. Your sleep has been kinda shitty lately, and you know yourself well enough to know that exhaustion makes you bitchy. And the last thing you want is to unintentionally take that bitchiness out on her. Even Joe. Walking up to them, you poke him in his stomach. Jesus, he’s ripped. “Help yourself to anything. Just make sure she doesn’t destroy my house, please. And make her clean.”

At that, her face sours, and Joe chuckles.

“You got it.”

Satisfied, you walk back into your room, deciding to close the door. Callie will absolutely welcome herself in if need be. Plopping down on the mattress, you stare up at the ceiling, taking in a deep breath, momentarily stopping yourself from closing your eyes. For a second, you forget that Callie is not alone and unattended, thus preventing you from sleeping.

Call it being an anxious, overprotective parent, you’ve never allowed yourself to nap when it’s just the two of you. Even when she’s asleep, and when you do, you set an alarm to wake you up every ten minutes, just to make sure she’s still knocked out. It makes taking time to rest pretty difficult, if not impossible, but it’s what makes you comfortable.

It’s an easy sacrifice to make for your child.

So having another adult around, her dad, of all people, is a nice feeling. You know she’s safe and watched over. And it’s what allows you to actually fall into a peaceful slumber.

Just for a little bit.

—-------

It is, in fact, just for a little bit.

Because you’re awoken by your phone ringing, your mom on the other end wondering what time she can expect you and Callie to come over.

Shit.

You completely forget that you’d agreed to bring Callie to see her as it’d been “too long," according to her. You partially agreed, realizing you haven’t visited your mom since the day everything went down, what with you reaching out to Joe again and that whole fiasco.

And that’s another thing.

Your mother has no idea he’s back in the picture.

Walking out of the room, you find them in the living room, of course, watching Toy Story 2.

Callie’s eyes light up when she sees you, but that doesn’t pull her from her position, tucked right under Joe’s side on your sofa. If you had your phone, you’d try to snap a picture.

“That wasn’t long,” he snickers, and you glare, stopping yourself from flipping him off.

You move over to the sofa, sitting on the armrest. “That’s cause my mom called and woke me up.”

“Grandma?”

Nodding, you explain to both Callie and Joe. “I forgot we were supposed to go visit her today.”

She moves up on her knees, asking, “can we go?” She looks over at Joe. “Joe can come with us!”

You consider her suggestion. Your mom didn’t even find out about Joe until you told her you were pregnant. You kept that part of your life a secret from her for good reasons. This doesn’t seem like the best way for her to find out, to drop it on her yet again. However, one look at Callie’s desperate expression, and you already know your answer.

“Of course,” you then add on, “if he wants to.”

Callie, being Callie, answers for him. “He wants to!” She tugs on his sleeve, excitement bubbling. “You can meet my grandma!”

You glance over at him, “are you sure? I’m sorry, I know this was supposed to be one on one with her….”

He shakes his head, cutting you off. “If she wants to go, let’s go.”

You nod, praying this doesn’t end up being a bad idea.

—-------

“Mama!” You call out, watching Joe shut and lock the door behind him. Seeing that allows you to focus on where the hell your mother is. She usually meets you at the door when she knows you’re coming over. “Where is this woman?”

The car drive was pleasant enough, Callie talking almost the entire time, as expected. And Joe eating it up the whole time, also, as expected.

You can see now he’s definitely going to be that dad. The dad who finds anything and everything his kid does to be adorable. You can’t wait for him to be on the receiving end of one of Callie’s temper tantrums and see how he handles it.

“Grandma!” Callie suddenly calls, all the while keeping her hand in Joe’s. “I’m here!”

Finally, the sound of footsteps from upstairs as your mom comes down the stairs, home phone, yes, a home phone, held between her ear and shoulder. “I told her Bishop wasn’t gonna go for that, but you know how she is. Old fool.” It’s when she’s in the vicinity to see that it’s not just you and Callie, her eyes grow wide. “Cheryl, let me call you back.”

Damn.

You know that tone, that ‘let me talk to you’ tone.

Thankfully, you get a brief save. The sight of your mom makes Callie drop Joe’s hand to sprint off to meet her on the steps. “Grandma!”

She leans down to pick up Callie, smothering her with kisses. “My favorite little lady.”

Callie giggles as your mom descends from the steps, Callie on her hip, to approach you and Joe who’d, wisely, remained quiet up until this point.

You watch your mom’s eyes land on him, but before she can say anything, Callie jumps in.

“Grandma, this is Joe! He’s mommy’s friend and mine too!”

Fuck. Your mom’s eyes travel between him and Callie, once, twice, and on the third time, you know. You just know that she knows.

And that’s when you jump in, knowing you desperately need to speak with her. “Callie, why don’t you show Joe the play area?”

Her eyes blaze with enthusiasm as your mom places her back on the ground. Callie’s little feet carry her back over to Joe who seems to understand you need to talk with your mother.

“Come on!” Taking his hand, she begins to direct him to the back of the house and through the sliding door.

Your mom waits until she knows the two of you are alone to speak. “Girl, you done got my blood pressure all up.”

“Mama—”

“That’s Callie’s daddy, ain’t it?” She doesn’t even give you time to answer. “Don’t try to lie, either. She looks just like him.”

There’s no need in denying the obvious. “Yes.”

Her mouth drops open in rightful shock. “And just when did you plan to tell me he was back in the picture?” The questions keep coming, understandably so considering how you’ve just dropped this on her. “And why is she calling him by his first name?”

“Because she doesn't know,” you answer the second question, hating the disappointed look on her face. “We–he hasn’t told her yet.”

“It just keeps getting worse.” She’s rubbing her temple and you just know she’s gonna need to take an Excedrin before the night is over. “Tell me everything. Now.”

And so, you do, starting with Callie’s initial question about her dad, to your phone call with Joe, his visit where he confirmed he had a daughter, all of it. And when you’re done, your mom is visibly shaken.

“Lord, he found out about her through social media?” You still feel badly about that, about a lot of it. “Well….does his wife know?”

You shake your head. “I don’t think so. We haven’t really talked about that yet.” Before your mom can protest, you add, “we will. I’ll make sure of it. He just wants to get to know her first. For himself.”

Your mom chuckles, obviously having studied the close interaction between the two of them in the few minutes she’s been privy to see them engage with one another. “seems like that’s already a done deal.”

“Yeah,” you smile warmly. “He’s really good with her.”

And it’s the truth, Joe seems to be naturally good with a lot of things, but there’s something so impressive about his ability to interact and connect with Callie. It’s so natural.

“So, are you two…..”

“No,” you shut that down immediately. “We’re just trying to navigate coparenting.”

Your mom nods but doesn’t say anything, and you know her well enough to know it’s because she doesn’t entirely believe you. But, she won’t push.

“Well.” She claps her hands together, nodding to the backdoor. “Let me go properly introduce myself, since you got me out here looking rude. Probably got that boy thinking I don’t like him.”

“I promise, he’s not like that.” You two start walking toward the backyard where you’re certain Callie is talking a hole in his head, describing the play area your mom put together just for her when she spends the night.

She places her hand on the sliding door but pauses to look at you, “let me just say this though, that is one fine young man. I see now why you had a hard time letting him go. The devil sure knows how to tempt people.”

“Mama!” You try to suppress your laughter as the two of you walk out, sure enough to find Callie on the swing, Joe pushing her as they share their own conversation.

She walks up to him, wearing a warm smile, giving a wink to Callie. “I’m so sorry about that. My daughter just didn’t tell me you were gonna be here.”

Joe, forever respectful, starts to indirectly apologize. “I hope it's not a problem. If so, I can—”

She waves him off, “oh, hush.” She leans in to whisper, “you’re practically family.” He returns her smile as she introduces herself by name, he offers his, and your wonderful mother then informs, “well, this one is gonna help me tend to my garden, cause winter will be here before we know it.” She leans down and kisses the top of Callie’s head, as she’s stopped swinging and is instead sitting. Her eyes light up at the idea of gardening with your mom. The same way you used to garden with your grandma. A bit of a tradition being passed down. “And in the meantime, you two can go finish organizing the office.”

Your eyes widen. No wonder she didn’t hear you all coming in right away. That room, once your bedroom, became your mom’s storage area and over the years has accumulated stuff on top of stuff. Nowhere near a hoarding level, but just a lot of things that she doesn’t want to part with but needs to organize. “Mama, that's not—”

“I don't want to hear no complaining. You really want me up on that ladder?” You roll your eyes, realizing she’s referring to the top of your old closet where she keeps the storage bins of memorabilia, mostly photos. “I'm not getting any younger. What if I fall? Then you gon feel bad.”

“You're so dramatic.” Your mom acts like she's 75 and at death's door sometimes. The woman is 52 and teaches a Zumba class at the rec center every Saturday. She could fall and jump right back up like nothing happened.

She places her hand on Joe’s arm, smiling slyly. “You got this strong, handsome man to help you out.” One thing you’ve learned as you’ve gotten older is that your tendency to unintentionally flirt from time to time 100% came from your mother. Clearly. “Besides, if you do fall, you'll be fine. You got enough booty back there to cushion it.”

“Mama!” One glance at Joe, and you see him make a face that reads clearly 'she's not entirely wrong.’ At that, you shove him, not that it does anything. He's solid as a rock. “Fine, we'll organize your mess, but not for long. Joe is only in town until tomorrow night, and he did not come here to be a part of your cleaning crew.”

“I don’t mind,” Joe adds. Of course, he doesn't. He hasn’t seen it yet, and he’s a gentleman. “Whatever you need help with, I’ll do it.”

Your mom gives you another look and then looks at him. “I like you, Joseph.”

Callie lifts her head, adding, “I like him too!”

I like him too.

“Well, get to it. When we’re done, ya’ll can help me fix some dinner.” Her eyes then land on you. “Well, not you. You can make the lemonade or something.”

Joe coughs awkwardly, poorly hiding his laughter. “I’m getting really sick of ya’ll coming for me and my poor cooking skills.”'

Your mom directs Callie to grab her caddy with their needed gardening supplies. “Baby, you are a lot of things, but a cook ain’t one of them.” She points at Joe, sharing, “remind me to tell you the story about how she almost burned down my house.”

“Okay, we’re gonna go now.” You grab Joe’s hand and lead him back into the house toward the stairs, which he motions for you to go up first, realizing after the fact that he probably did so to stare at your ass.

This man….

Entering your former bedroom, you stretch your arm to show you just what you signed up for. He walks in, clearly surprised. “Okay.”

“Yup.” There’s items scattered all over, your mom clearly in the middle of trying to categorize the millions of family photos ya’ll have. “Still don’t mind?”

He shrugs forever unbothered. “There’s two of us. We’ll get it done.”

Sucking your teeth, you look around, trying to figure out where the hell to start. “Your optimism is annoying.”

Chuckling, his smartass remarks, “Glass half full, baby. Glass half full.”

“Yeah, yeah, well glass your ass over there and reach me the ladder. I need the box these pictures can go in from the top.”

He follows where you’re pointing but also gestures to the closet. “That one?” Joe makes a sound and instead of following your directions, casually walks over to said closet, reaches up and grabs the box with all the ease of someone who’s 6’3.

Smug expression on his face, he hands it to you as you glare. “Show off.”

Joe assesses you, eyes settling on your chest before redirecting them to your face. “Maybe I should have let you get up there. View and all.”

Holding back your smile is difficult, so you settle for biting on your bottom lip and bumping his side as you move past him. “Shut up.” You know his gaze is on you and that should bother you, his flirty comment should bother you, but it doesn’t.

It doesn’t at all.

—-------

“I still can’t believe you were a cheerleader.”

There’s probably been a decent combination of conversation and organization in your time working together to ‘unmess’ your mom’s mess. That’s not entirely surprising though. Joe has always been immensely easy to talk to, to be around. And you couldn’t deny that you missed this kind of interaction with him, the most and maybe first since he’s re-entered your life. You wholly understand why he spends and devotes most of his time with Callie, but there’s a small part of you that’s missed this.

Missed it being just the two of you.

Chuckling, you comment, “you’re not the first. I was….different in high school and college than I am now.”

He’s intrigued, asking, “how?”

“Well, for one, I don’t party damn near every night anymore.” One thing you could never deny about your early days was that you always liked to have a good time, liked to make your expected appearances at whatever party of the week, or day, was happening. “Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t drink or smoke. That was never my thing. I just….I liked to have fun, probably too much fun more often than not.” You chuckle to yourself, grabbing a stack of photos to put in the container. “Now, I like to be in bed by 9:30, 10 at the latest.”

He smiles and looks over at the wall that still has many of your cheer accolades proudly displayed. “Obviously, you were pretty damn good.”

Shrugging, you push some of your hair behind your ear. Not that it does much. Your curls have always been voluminous and wild. “I was, but….it came at a cost to some extent. Cheer is insanely competitive, and I didn’t always handle that the best.”

Competitiveness was something you deeply struggled with when you were younger. Feeling like you had to be the best, not even better than anyone else per se, but the best that you could be. Always trying to prove that you were good enough.

Looking back now, you have a solid guess of where that came from and what drove it.

Joe’s studying you, trying to gauge your comfort level with this conversation. “Did you like it?”

“I loved it,” you answer, honestly. “Until I didn’t. Shortly before college, I think, is when the love started to fade.”

“But you cheered in college too, didn’t you?”

You nod, explaining, “I got a scholarship for cheer, and I wasn’t about to put that stress on my mom to have her help me figure out how to pay for school when I had an easy ride.” Around that time is when your relationship with your mom started to strengthen, and the last thing you wanted to do was risk messing it back up by being selfish. You’d cheered damn near your whole life, what was another 4 years?

“I like your mom,” he announces, almost suddenly. It’s unsurprising. Most people do. But, there is something that pleases you about her tentative approval of him and now his of her.

“She’s really great. I don’t know what I would do without her, and Callie adores her.” You look over at him, playfully. “Not as much as she adores you, though.”

You can see the delight in his eyes. “Yeah?”

His disbelief surprises you. How can he not see how crazy Callie is over him? “Are you kidding me? That lil girl already doesn’t shut up, but she really doesn’t shut up about you. It’s Joe this, Joe that. The first thing she asks me when I pick her up from school is always if she can call you.” Deciding this is a perfect segue, you add on, carefully. “You know….you should tell her. I can promise you, she won’t be upset. She’s gonna be thrilled.”

She already loves you.

You don’t know if it’s too soon to say that, if it’s something you should even say vs let him hear from Callie herself. You just know that there’s probably very little he could do at this point to make Callie not love him. She’s hooked.

“Christmas,” he announces, adding, “I’ll tell her when I come back for Christmas.”

This surprises you, as he hasn’t discussed his next visit up until this point. You also don’t feel the need to comment or counter his plan and timeline to tell Callie. You can’t think of a better Christmas gift for her. “You got the time off?”

He nods, providing specifics. “I’ll be here the day before Christmas Eve. Gotta fly back out on the 26th though.”

“Stay with us.” Where this comes from, you’re not sure, but there’s not a lot of regret once it's released. “I know you hate that damn hotel, and Callie would be thrilled to have you around 24/7.” Getting up off the floor, you carry the now filled container and move up the ladder you’d used a couple times because he’d been preoccupied organizing other areas. Sliding it back in the same spot, you descend down the steps only to feel strong hands grip your waist.

Bringing you to the ground, he carefully turns you around, but that’s not what you’re focused on. What you’re focused on is how close he is to you, your chests nearly touching, his eyes burning into you. Instantly, your stomach is knotting. You know that look, know it all too well.

“Joe….” Your voice is soft, much softer than it needs to be when trying to assert yourself. And you hate yourself for the tiny sigh that leaves your mouth when he brings his palm to your cheek. “We—we can’t—”

“I’m divorced.”

This man, so fine and kind, and damn near pressed against you is distracting, so much so that you’re briefly disconnected from what he’s just said. But, it’s forcing yourself to come back to reality that his words truly hit you. You’re not sure you could have ever guessed that statement would ever leave his mouth.

Slightly in shock, staring at him with bewilderment, you stammer, “w–what?”

“Two months ago, Jadah and I filed for divorce. It was uncontested, and the state of Florida is one of the quickest when it comes to processing these things.” His other hand moves to your hip, holding you still, as if he knows you want to move away from him. “I got notice it was finalized a few days ago.”

You’re listening, you really are, but hearing is another story. This has to be some type of sick joke, some type of cruel prank ripped directly out the pages of a journal kept and maintained so long ago. Cause you’d absolutely written about this at one point, written about what it would be like if he were to leave his wife.

You just never could have anticipated it would one day become a reality.

“I—I don’t understand.” Joe only found out about Callie less than a month ago, so there’s no way she was the reason for the split. Still, you have to ask. “Wh–why?”

Something flashes in his eyes. Hurt. “It was long overdue.” He doesn’t say anything beyond that, and while you expected more, you can also see there’s more to the story. More that he’s not saying, but it’s the brief glimpse of pain that prevents you from pushing. Whatever it is, it’s clearly difficult for him to discuss.

“Oh.” It’s a stupid thing to say, but you’re truly in a state of shock and don’t know what else to say.

The biggest and only issue that ever existed between yourself and Joe has always been his marriage, the fact that he was already taken. It was the only reason you ever broke it off with him, but now, he’s standing before you, telling you that this is no longer the case.

You’re all of the emotions: confused, nervous, happy, hopeful, and so many more that you can’t even label.

“I didn’t say anything at first, because meeting Callie was my priority. Establishing a relationship with her was a priority. And it still is, but…..” Your eyes shut as he drops his head in the crook of your neck. “I’ve missed you.” Your hands gradually lift to lay against his chest as he sighs into you, ‘I’ve missed everything about you.” Eyes remaining shut, your nails claw gently against him as he moves his mouth over your neck. “The way you smile, the way you laugh.” His hand on your back slowly inches downward. “The way you taste.” Your breath catches as his teeth graze your collarbone. “The way you feel when I’m inside you.”

“Joe,” you breathe, the air suddenly thick, your throat tight. Breathing is incredibly arduous in this moment. “I—”

“Mommy! Joe!”

Joe’s suddenly across the damn room, it seems like, as Callie enters at both the perfect and worst time with a smile, completely oblivious to what she’s just interrupted. “Grandma said come eat!”

Frowning, you glance at the clock and realize it’s most definitely dinner time and that your mom had most likely just had Callie help her prepare the meal instead of asking you two to help.

Huh.

She moves across the room, tackling Joe from the side and craning up her head as she excitedly asks, “Wanna see what I made? Grandma helped me!”

Leaning down to pick her up, he answers, “of course, I wanna see.” He begins to walk out the door as Callie calls out for you to follow behind.

And you will.

You just need a moment.

Because what the hell just happened?

—-------

I’m divorced.

It keeps playing in your head, on a vicious repeating cycle, like that annoying song the radio plays every 15 minutes, forcing it down your throat.

For almost the entire time you were together, you infrequently allowed yourself to dream about what your life would be like if the circumstances were different, if he wasn’t already taken. If he wasn’t already married. And each time only left you feeling worse than before, because it was stupid. You were three years deep into the situationship; if he hadn’t left his wife by then, he wasn’t leaving her period.

It was a harsh pill that took you forever to swallow.

And even then, you knew that you could never be happy. Not with the knowledge that he’d left his wife for you. It may be bliss initially, but the guilt would have eaten you up and ruined things regardless.

So accepting and telling yourself that it would never work out long-term was what kept your head above water, especially in the two months after you broke things off. And once you learned you were pregnant with Callie, there was a new kind of stress, a new kind of distraction.

Not that it made you forget about him. Hardly.

Every check up, every milestone, every kick, your mind would wander to him. Wander to a fantasy world where you imagined he was with you every step of the way, the two of you preparing together for the arrival of your first child.

Even as the years went on and Callie got older, you still would find yourself from time to time imagining how different things would be if he was around.

Well, now he is. He’s not only around, but he’s going to be actively involved in Callie’s life for the rest of her life.

And he’s now single.

All of this makes for one fucked up emotional rollercoaster ride.

Dinner is an experience, only for you, maybe Joe to some extent. He’s always had a tendency to compartmentalize emotions though, unlike yourself. Granted, if it was a struggle for him, he did a damn good job not showing it. It also probably helped a ton that Callie talked a hole in his and your mom’s head.

You knew your mom could see something was up with you but graciously opted to not ask you any questions. You wouldn’t have any answers to give her anyway.

And you indicated as much when you were back at your apartment, and Callie in her room gathering her favorite pajamas for bed.

“I just need time to think.”

It’s all you can offer him, because it’s the truth. There’s so much more to consider than you could have imagined, and it’s really hard to contemplate when you still have Mariah’s voice oscillating in the back of your mind, your insecurities, and even your mom.

So many differing perspectives, it’s hard to focus and hear your own.

Thankfully, he accepts that answer, and you accept that you’re running out of different ways to escape confronting your own emotions.

Maybe.

Because this day has already been exceedingly long, and you’re more emotionally exhausted than anything. So when Callie comes to you complaining of a tummy ache, you administer her Children’s Tylenol, lay with her until she falls asleep, and take advantage of this rare opportunity to turn your brain off and just rest.

The hard shit could wait.

—-------

“Mommy!”

There's a certain tone every person has that's reserved for emergencies, saved for moments when something is wrong. Very, very wrong.

This is one of those moments.

You nearly trip with how quickly you jump out the bed and sprint down the hall to Callie’s room. Hitting the light switch, your stomach drops when you see her.

On her side, in a fetal position, crying profusely.

Rushing over to her, you see too that she's pale and a hand to her forehead reveals she's burning up. Sheer panic climbs up your body, settling into your stomach and the back of your throat. Still, you do your best to not show her your fear.

“Baby, is it your tummy?” You take a hand to feel her stomach, but she screams out in pain, making you jump from her reaction.

“Mommy, it hurts,” she sobs, and you're instantly moving the blankets off her, already knowing what you need to do.

Hand on her forehead, you assure, “I’lll be right back, okay?”

You rush back into your room, sliding on the first pair of shoes that you come across. You grab your phone off the nightstand and throw it in your purse, all in under a minute, still too long. And as soon as you're back in her room, you waste no time in lifting her into your arms.

She winces, so you reassure, “come on, baby. It's okay, you're gonna be okay.”

It's what you're telling yourself, the only thing keeping you from panicking. Unsure and uncaring at this moment if you lock the front door behind you, you carry her down the steps and into the dark of night, carefully but quickly buckling her into her carseat.

Hating to see her continue to cry, to be in pain, you kiss her forehead, “I’m gonna get you some help, okay? We're going to the hospital.”

She can only nod, and your eyes water. Your forever talkative child is rendered speechless by her pain. It crushes you.

Hopping into the driver's seat, you grab your phone, trembling fingers locating the address of the hospital. You hit share and send it to Joe before pressing the call button and tossing your phone into the passenger seat to zoom out of the parking lot.

Your phone is connected to your vehicle, ringing three times before he picks up, voice heavy with sleep. “Hey.”

“I need you to meet me at the hospital. I already sent you the address.” You do your best to remain calm and collected, to not scare Callie more than she's already scared. Even if you’re fucking terrified. “Something is wrong with Calista.”

#roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #wwe #roman reigns x black!oc #arisnotebook

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kairiscorner · 9 months

Note

HIII!! :33 love ur writing sm btw always makes me giggle and kick my feet

could i request a ceo!miguel and a detective!reader who are childhood best friends - even better if hes protective of her although she can clearly handle herself

SORRY IF ITS TOO MUCH this is my first time requesting things on tumblr waaa (* ´Д ｀)

if its okay can i be 🌼 anon?? thank you so much!!

HELLO DEAR, YES OFC YOU CAN BE 🌼 ANON 💖💖 and sure thing :DDD when i read 'detective', my mind immediately went to ranpo edogawa from bsd (totally not gonna give y/n his energy) ANYWAY i hope you like this 🌼 anon (人*´∀｀)｡*ﾟ+

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

think you can do this on your own? – ceo!miguel o'hara x detective!reader

he stared at you from across the table, looking a little skeptical at you as you noisily slurped at your frappe that he got you, all smiles as you drank it up. he raised an eyebrow at you. "could you drink any louder?" he asked you in a sarcastic, low voice–as if he were a parent about to chide their child for their poor table manners. you looked at miguel with your wide, bright eyes and tilted your head to the side. "i could." you replied, slurping the drink even louder, much to miguel's dismay. he sighed to himself and shut his eyes, rubbing his temples with his hand on his face as his eyebrows came together in a furrow. you were always this cheeky and childish, though the problem was, you both were in your early 30's, and you were a well-known and highly-respected detective in all of nueva york–yet you couldn't even restrain yourself from preventing making a ruckus from how loud you were drinking your sugary concoction. "please." miguel muttered as you chuckled in response.

"please what, miggy? you don't just leave me hanging–i might be a detective, but i can't work with insufficient evidence. do you perhpas want me to drink louder? well, watch this." you quipped as miguel pushed his sunglasses back up on his face and leaned closer towards you slurping even louder as you drank away. "listen, you are a genius detective, alright–" "oh, tell me something i don't know, mig." you said with a giggle as you slurped your frappe again, much to miguel's dismay. he took in a deep breath and let out a long sigh. "you may be a genius, however... you're careless, childish to a fault." he muttered with a sigh as he covered his mouth with his hand, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as he narrowed his gaze at you still slurping at your frappe, gazing back at him with your widened gaze.

you sighed as you rested the cup you were clenching on the table, folded one leg over the other, rested your elbows back on either ends of the backrest of your chair and leaned your head back. "what? it's true, you haven't got as much responsibility and seriousness compared to the cases you've solved." miguel chided you as you groaned. "but, miggy... i get out of those cases scot-free! so what if i'm not as serious or boring as you, at least i've got a brain that can think and a soul that loves fun!" you whined as you lifted you head up and looked at miguel with a pleading face. miguel shook his head as he brought his mug up to his lips, taking in the bitter taste of his black coffee. "i still don't think you should be the one to take on the case, it's too risky." you furrowed your eyebrows as you heard him say that, folding your arms over your chest again. "and how so? i've solved kidnapping and thievery cases that the police were so sure that were going to end up as cold cases—i'm the detective you need, mig." you told him as you unfolded your legs and arms and leaned closer to him, piercing his gaze with your own intense, determined ones as you clasped your hands around his own once you grasped his hand.

"no. besides, this is an internal issue within alchemax, you shouldn't even be informed of what's going on, but because of... you know, the fact that you know how to pry—" "investigate." you corrected him with a look of disappointment in your eyes. miguel nodded and sighed. "...because of the fact you know how to investigate properly, you managed to figure out a whole shipment of rapture was stolen from us in a single night without me having to tell you. and i hope that you figure out that i will be hiring a different private investigator to deal with this for us." "what, why?! i'm only like, your best childhood friend for the past thirty years, i'm literally the only friend you have!" you exclaimed, hurt that miguel didn't trust you to investigate the stolen goods situation for alchemax. "you are not my only friend." "oh, really, then who else've you got?" you asked him with a raised eyebrow.

miguel opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off. "and don't say it's lyla, because you know for a fact you don't program friends." you quipped as lyla appeared from out of miguel's watch and folded her arms up at you with a little glare. "ugh, rude." she said to you as she stuck her tongue out at you, with miguel closing his mouth and shutting his eyes. "this is getting way off-topic, lemme just cut to the chase—i don't want you anywhere near alchemax until this whole situation blows over. i've... made a few enemies since we last spoke—" "gotta hand it to your wonderful people skills, i really do." you said as you slurped away at your frappe again as miguel's eyebrows crinkled together again. "anyway, there are dangerous people in neuva york right now, they could be in this very coffee shop we're at right now. the last thing i want is for you to be jeopardized... so please, keep a low profile, keep your head down, and stay far away from me." miguel warned you with a stern voice as you stared at him with an unfazed gaze, as if you've been warned by miguel time and time again never to do something, but of course... you'd always end up doing it, just because.

you set your frappe down again and sighed. "you're forgetting that i, hah, actually caught a cat burglar the other night. did i tell you about it?" "um, no?" miguel answered you with a raised eyebrow. you smirked at him and shook your head with that smirk on your face. "tsk, tsk, oh, miggy... i think i found your guy." you said as you pulled out your phone and showed him the selfie you had with the crook you captured. you were smiling and showing a peace sign in the photo while the crook was beaten up and bruised, you giggled as you showed miguel the photo as he stared at it with widened eyes. "you beat this guy up?" he asked you as he zoomed into the screen and you nodded. "you shouldn't be proud you resorted to violence, is this guy even actually—" "the thief? well... why don't you check with lyla right now on the status of your rapture shipments?" you asked him as you slurped again on your frappe as miguel inquired lyla on that very statement.

"oh, would ya look at that." lyla said aloud as she got an email from several of miguel's subordinates that the ravage shipments were returned safely at alchemax, untampered and alright. miguel looked at the emails and back at you in astonishment, or as much as he was going to allow. he cleared his throat and adjusted the sunglasses on his face, bringing the mug of black coffee back to his lips. you smiled devilishly at him and leaned your head into your palm, balancing it while you looked at miguel all cheekily. "you know that's got nothing left in it, right?" you asked him as miguel had only then realized he ran out of coffee.

he cleared his throat and nodded. "i... okay. but you could've told me that you, y'know..." he stammered, feeling ashamed of himself for not trusting you and having faith in your capabilities that made you the person you are today—he was just so concerned about you, worried about what might happen to you if he wasn't there to protect you, but you already deciphered that from how he presented himself and how he spoke around you, it warmed your heart but also annoyed you. you leaned back in your chair and smiled, proud of yourself at finally making miguel eat his words for the umpteenth time. "a 'thank you' would be nice, mig. c'mon, you can say it, i know you wanna." you teased him as miguel sighed and folded his arms over his chest. "...thank you." he whispered under his breath as you leaned closer to him, placing a hand to your ear to hear him better as your smile broadened. "can't hear ya, miggy, again please?" you asked him with a slight giggle as miguel grumbled.

"i said..." he began as he leaned over closer to you, his breath hot against your ear, his lips brushing over your earlobe as he whispered, "thank you, you damned brat." you felt yourself get a little hot in the cheeks after you heard him whisper in that low, raspy voice of his that kind of made you feel a lot more than just cocky. you may have gotten a bit flustered by him, but you still have all the bragging rights in the world that you defied his assumptions and solved his problem for him before he could even ask anybody else for help. "am i your favorite detective now, then, miggy?" "you're my sole headache, you're far from my favorite." he responded flatly as you pouted up at him. "well you're my sole accident prone dorito, there." you quipped as miguel looked at you quizzically. "dorito?" you chuckled. "lyla would get it." you said as lyla appeared and gave you a thumbs up. "you run your mouth a lot, but you're right on one thing at least." the AI assistant said as you smiled wider, with miguel looking ever more confused.

"don't worry, miggy... i'm your problem solver. just make sure to tell me i'm the best, and i'll keep helping you." you said playfully as miguel sighed yet again. "...you are highly unprofessional and brash, but you've got a good brain in that pretty little kid-like, airhead of yours." he said as he got up and put his coat back on, getting ready to head to his office. your face beamed even brighter at miguel's praise. you got up and followed him, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and clung your legs around his waist, with miguel instinctively holding you up by holding on to your inner thighs. he grumbled under his breath, telling you this was embarrassing for the two of you.

"it's been so long since you held me! you owe me big time, miggy. now, to the ice cream shop!" you exclaimed as miguel walked out of the coffee shop with you clinging on to his chest, looking stoic and composed as he told you calmly, "you're way too spoiled." "and you love spoiling me with your seven-figure paycheck." you replied with a giggle as miguel's face got all sheepish and frustrated that, once again, you were right.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @luvstarrstruck @melovetitties @arachnoia @ophanimgold @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @simsrandomstuff @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0

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igotanidea · 8 months

Text

Taken: Dick Grayson x f!reader x Jason Todd (part 2)

part 1

***

No.

No. no. no. no.

This was not happening.

This must have been some kind of crazy dream and he was about to wake up from in a second and everything was going to be fine.

Yes.

Absolutely.

He was about to open his eyes in his own bed with Y/N by his side, sleeping softly on her belly with messy hair and slightly parted lips, looking all cute and innocent. And she would be all warm, soft, happy, protected and 100% safe in his embrace.

And he would hug her close to his chest making sure it will stay like this forever, kiss her and never let her go, regardless of her best effort to wriggle out of his embrace and start the day. She was always the responsible one…..

And she would smile at him with her pretty smile and look at him with her beautiful eyes giving him the loving gaze and…

“Dick?”

He raised his head abruptly, being thrown out of his reverie and forced to crash with reality. And the realization that this was all true and not a nightmare brought a few tears to his eyes.

It all came back.

Y/n.

His poor girl, his love, his light, his heart.

Neglected by him.

Broken and abandoned.

And the car accident that he heard happening through the phone.

And there was nothing he could have possibly done about it, forced to listen to the crashes and that deadly silence on the other side, desperately calling her name, hoping for a word of answer or even a single breath of a prove she was ok.

Honestly at this point Dick wasn’t sure which of those circumstances were worst.

He was currently sitting on the chair in the hospital, outside of the OR, Y/N was currently operated in. And everything was too much. The bright light, the whiteness of the walls, the sounds and that overwhelming feeling that all of it was in fact his fault.

“No…” he whispered with pale, numb limbs.

Honestly, it was a miracle he was able to sit at all. If it wasn’t for the fact that he’s been here for what seemed like hours now, he would probably be pacing nervously back and forth.

Right now he only felt like screaming at the world about the unfairness of everything.

“Dick….”

“What?!” he snapped standing up abruptly, running hands through his hair in the mix of panic, guilt and the sudden urge to punch something.

“Please calm down……”

He looks at Jason with fury in his eyes. How dare he? How dare he ask him to be calm when his girlfriend was fighting for her life in the operation room. How dare he be so calm sitting on the hospital chair?! How dare he after everything that happened?

Yeah, he knew.

Dick was always a good detective and the moment Jason fell to his knees after hearing Y/N’s car crash and started weeping Grayson connected the dots pretty quickly. At that moment it all made sense. Jason held much more than friendly feelings for Y/N. Much more.

And that brought a hurricane of emotions.

How? When? Why?

And most importantly – did she feel the same for Jason? Was she going to leave him?

“CALM DOWN?!” Dick yelled taking a few steps towards his brother, standing inches from him and eyeing him with a murderous gaze, but not doing anything. “DO YOU EVEN HEAR YOURSELF?!”

“you might want to step back…..” Jason hissed warningly

“Or what?” Dick narrowed his eyes

“Or you’ll be grateful you’re in a hospital.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I’m just saying…..” Jason smirked vindictively, almost baring his teeth.

“Well I think it would be better if you just shut up after everything you did to her.”

“I did to her? You were the one to brush her off! She needs love! She deserves love!”

“Oh so now you love her?!”

“I do!”

“Well too bad, cause she’s mine!”

“Not for long though…..”

The chances of them beating the shit out of each other on the hospital corridor were skyrocketing by a second and who knew what might have happened if it wasn’t for the clueless doctor coming out of the operation room.

It took the MD a second to figure out what was happening and his gaze turned from confused to stern immediately. He’s had enough experience with crazy, strange, straight-out-of-shitty-romance -novels incidents happening in his hospital and was not in the mood to deal with another one.

“Sit.” He hissed and it was hilarious how two grown up men complied with his order without a single word.

“Is she……?” Dick started, watching the doctor with wide eyes, begging for as little as a scrap of information.

“Can I…..?” Jason muttered at the same moment and when they spoke in unison their murderous gazes met again.

“Are you family?” the doctor asked and boys’ faces fell instantly.

“I’m her boyfriend ……” Dick stuttered and that word made Jason clench both his jaw and his fists.

“Not a family.” Doctor replied sternly

“But…..”

“No.”

“please?” Dick knew well enough he was making a fool out of himself in front of his younger brother (who apparently also happened to be his opponent for Y/N’s heart), but he couldn’t care less. He hadto know if she was alright. He just had to. And if it required stooping to begging he was going to do it. Anything for her.

“She’ll live…..” the doctor rolled his eyes in a bit of annoyance.

“Can you…..?” Dick tried to ask something more, but he didn’t even get to finish the sentence when Jason jumped to his feet, towering over the doctor backing him against the wall, grabbing the front of his lab coat.

“TALK!” Jason yelled. Just like Dick he was desperate to know anything about Y/N’s current state but unlike his brother he was not going to ask nicely. Yelling, punching and threatening was way more his modus operandi.

“Jason!”

“Fuck off Grayson! I care about her!”

“Are you suggesting that I don’t!?”

“You’re just going to take this doctor’s shit?!”

“Both of you calm down now.”

The calm deep voice coming from behind made everyone turn their heads towards the direction of the door.

“Mr. Wayne!”

“Bruce?!”

“Let the gentleman go, Jason.”

“I’m not taking orders from you.” Jason scoffed not letting go.

“From what I can tell I’m the only one entitled to Y/N’s medical information so I suppose you do take orders from me.”

“You’re fucking bluffing” Jason’s eyes narrowed, the vein on his forehead pulsing as he weighted the options. Not knowing about Y/N or surrendering to Bruce.

“Try me.” Bruce retorted, his face resembling an expressionless stone.

“Fuck!” Todd cried out, dropping the doctor to the ground, not caring about delicacy.

Bruce smirked.

“Now. Shall we doctor?”

And acting like he owned the place (which was not that far from the truth) Wayne started walking towards the office.

“Bruce…..” Dick whispers desperately, with a broken voice and equally broken expression.

“Don’t worry Dick. Everything’s going to be fine.” Bruce patted his shoulder reassuringly.

***

It took Bruce ten minutes to gather all the necessary information and enable Dick to get inside Y/N’s hospital room.

Obviously Jason was about to fight tooth and nail to get the same privilege as his brother but no one cared.

Why was he always the bad one…..?

He loved her too…… He deserved to be able to see her…..

Anything…… just to hear her breathing and see she was alive… anything to be close to her……

Instead he heard hard no.

Which was heartbreaking.

Soul shattering.

Simply unfair and punishing.

Making him feel like an outcast. Again. Over and over and over again.

Like he was just a piece of shit.

Of course he could have fought, but what was the point? It would end up with him being injected with a sedative and kicked out.

And just a thought of being tortured…again…… made him retreat into himself.

But it hurt like hell.

Only because he fell in love.

And he felt like crying at the simple thought it was Dick sitting beside her bed, holding her hand, brushing her hair and kissing her forehead.

Would she even want that?

He could remember how soft and sweet she was when he was the one kissing her. The way she touched him, hugged him….. how she melted into him… Not Dick… him.

Her lips, hands, skin, curves, her body and her taste.

So perfect…..

And then she run….

And he was hurt…. scared for her, for himself, for them….

Was there ever them…..?

Jason was conflicted, shuddering and not knowing if he ever stood any chance to be with her.

Could it be possible that she wanted him the same way he wanted her……?

Please…..

Please….

***

Meanwhile Dick was indeed sitting next to Y/N’s bed, rubbing her soft, pale, limb hand whispering soft words that made no sense but helped him keep himself together.

He almost expected Y/N to look pale, small and fragile in the hospital bed, surrounded by all that medical equipment and encompassing white. He didn’t have much experience with hospital, since all his life he’s been home-patched, but all the stories he heard always portrayed the casualty of the accident in such way.

But not Y/N.

She was as beautiful as always and even all the bandages and tubes and fuzzy colours of the surroundings could never change it. She was strong… she was a fighter…. She survived and now she was just resting after all that.

His pretty, brave girl.

His Y/N, who was going to open her shining e/c eyes soon and see him as the first person.

“I’m here baby….” he whispered, putting a strand of hair behind her ear “Not going anywhere. Ever. Please come back to me…. I need you…. I love you, baby…”

He brushed her cheek softly. He probably shouldn’t have, but at this point all his reason and logical thinking was out the window replaced by the sheer need to feel her soft skin. Honestly he didn’t care about any rules as long as it didn’t mean he was putting her life or health in danger.

They say people in coma can hear when you talk to them, when you call upon them, touch them.

Well, she was not in come, but regardless he wanted.. no, he needed her to feel he was here. She was safe now, he was going to make sure of it.

“I’m so sorry my love….” Dick whispered, rubbing her hand gently. She was so warm and soft and it brought him hope. He was given a second chance to care for her. To keep her safe and protected and he was not going to waste it. “I’m so sorry for everything… I promise I’ll be better. Just please… open your eyes…..”

Sure, life doesn’t work magically and he wasn’t really expecting his words to bring the effect, but miraculously Y/N stirred in the bed and he could feel her fingers squeezing his hand.

“Y/N? Baby? It’s me… It’s Dick…. Honey, can you hear you hear me?” he asked, putting enormous amount of energy to keep his voice calm and not scare her or to take her in his arms and hold to his chest.

That would be unwise, she still had to recover and get back to health

“Dick……?” she asks faintly, opening her eyes slowly.

Oh, screw that.

Without any thinking he wrapped his arms around the girl, rubbing her back, kissing the top of his head, letting the tears fall down, rocking back and forth with her bruised body so close to his.

“Y/N…..” he muttered repeatedly as if that word were the sweetest one in the whole wide world. “Y/N… Y/N…. Y/N…..”

“Hey…..” she smiled softly, getting lost in his embrace.

“I thought I Iost you, baby…..” he held her a bit tighter making her grunt a little. “sorry my love.” He pulled back slightly looking straight into those beautiful eyes, showing a bit of tiredness and weariness. What he saw, however, was the shining orbs, the view he would be happy to watch solely for the rest of his life is she only let him. “Y/N….” he pressed his forehead onto his, cupping her cheek and chuckling a bit nervously a bit hysterically. “You’re all good, baby…..” he couldn’t help his wandering hands that seemed to cup her cheeks almost out of their own volition.

“Dickie….”

He almost whimpered at the word. She was the only one to use the diminutive form of his nickname and the only one allowed to do so. And he could have never heard that coming out of her sweet mouth.

“I love you….” he blurted. “I love you… Oh, I love you…..”

“I love you too, Dickie boy….”

“Do you remember what happened?” he kissed her forehead “How do you feel? Is there anything I can get you?” Dick’s natural chattiness branched off into the series of question that she didn’t even have the chance to answer because of the speed.

Dick Grayson was babbling.

Because she came back to him. And only then he realised how stressed he was.

“Dickie…. I….”

“Shh…” he kissed her temple, holding her to his chest again “don’t worry about anything my love. We’ll get you discharged from this hospital immediately. I’ll take care of you. I swear. Not letting you out of my sight. I love you so much……”

“Oh, Dick….” She cooed touching his cheek and wiping those traitorous tears. “I;m so sorry….”

“Sorry?” he frowned a bit confused “for what? Listen to me, baby…” he softly put a hand under her chin making her look up at him. “None of this was your fault. You hear me? Nothing.”

“But … but Dick…. Dick I…… I did something….”

“I know.” Dick simply said, putting a finger on her lips and brushing her hair. “I know, you don’t have to say a thing….”

“No….no you don’t know…. I…. I kissed Jason and….”

“I know.”

“You…. Do?” she looked at him with shock written on her face.

“Yeah, baby, I do…..” he smiled “I’m not mad, I swear….”

“Is he here now?”

“He’s sitting outside.”

Outside.

Jason was sitting outside.

That thought made her heart drop a little.

Partially because he was here at all serving as a reminder of her mistake.

But the bigger part of her heart dropped because she wasn’t even sure if that was a mistake anymore. Maybe it was what she truly wanted.

Poor Y/N was so confused remembering everything that happened before her accident.

Jason’s lips on hers.

His calloused hands moving across her body.

His scars under her fingertips.

“Dick…..” she stutters

“Yes babygirl?”

“Please hold me……”

“Of course, anything for you….” He smiled moving to sit on her hospital bed, hugging her.

In any other circumstances it would be a sweet, loving scene.

But right there, right then… they were both terrified.

Unsure of what was coming for them.

Unsure of their own feelings.

......

@fullbelieverheart

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd angst #red hood angst #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #nightwing angst #dick grayson angst #dick grayson fluff #nightwing fluff

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