#i just. want to be taken care of. just a bit.

[joelscruff]

imperfect for you (joel miller x f!reader)

masterlist | a/n written for @janaispunk's 1500 kisses challenge! i got joel + nose kisses with this lovely moodboard and actually managed to write something!!! believe it or not this started out as a drabble lmao. i hope you like it jana - sorry it's a bit late, and congrats again on your milestone 🤍 summary: you never thought joel miller would accidentally call you baby. warnings: age gap (joel is mid 40s, reader is 23), fluff, very brief instance of blood, tending to a wound, joel is eepy, soft kisses, cuddles word count: 5.5k ao3 dividers by @saradika-graphics

"When's the last time you slept?"

He doesn't bother to grace you with an answer, hands clenched on the steering wheel as you barrel down the vacant stretch of highway back to Lincoln. He's been ignoring you for the past fifteen minutes now, eyes straight ahead, brow furrowed, jaw clenched. But he looks pale, almost sickly, the whites of his knuckles stark against the sudden greenish hue of his skin. The last thing you need is for him to pass out and for the two of you to crash into a damn ditch.

"I'm just saying," you continue with an exasperated sigh, "I could drive the rest of the way, we're almost there."

No reply. You roll your eyes and cross your arms indignantly in the passenger seat, returning his icy demeanor. He's in one of his moods again, the ones only Tess really knows how to handle, but you'd volunteered to try your hand at a supply run in her stead which means she's not here to mediate. You should've known some issue would arise, stubborn Joel inventing problems in typical Joel fashion.

"You could've tried to last at least one more hour pretending to like me," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear. He doesn't say anything.

Almost a year of working with them now, and you still don't understand him. You're not sure you ever will. Tess, she's much easier to understand, much more open to being understood. She'd seen your potential and taken you under her wing, brought you in to help, taught you everything you needed to know about smuggling. And Joel... well, he's a different story.

"You know, Tess thinks I have promise," you continue anyway, expression crumpling into a scowl, "She thinks I can do this. I don't get why you don't."

No answer.

"And don't say it's 'cause I'm a kid, because I'm not. I'm twenty three now, I'm past the point of being called a fucking kid. The shit I've seen in that QZ-" you cut yourself off, shaking your head, "I'm not a kid."

His lack of response is beginning to hurt deeper than you'd really like to admit. You glance over at him again; he's still staring straight ahead, still ignoring your presence. It makes unwanted tears prick in your eyes, nose stinging a little as you peer down at your lap and fold your hands together.

You'd been excited for this supply run, probably against your better judgement. You'd wanted to show him how much you know and understand, how hard you've been working, how you're up to the task. Hoped maybe he'd give you a smile - rare, but not impossible - and tell you that you did good, that he sees potential in you too.

You care what he thinks, almost more than what Tess thinks. And you know why, can sense it deep in the pit of your stomach and in the way your heart stutters when he looks at you, but you're clearly living in a fantasy world if you think he's ever gonna get past whatever this stigma is that he has against your age. She's too young, Tess. She'll get hurt, Tess. She shouldn't be doin' this, Tess. You've heard it all, muffled through closed doors in a dark and damp hallway.

He doesn't want you, and you're not sure how much longer you can go on like this. If he's not willing to change his stance, view you as anything other than an inconvenience...maybe Tess will have to find somebody else to help out.

"I know what I'm doing," you mumble, a tear dribbling down your left cheek, "I just wanna help."

You spare him one more look, fruitlessly hoping that maybe he'll feel bad now that he's made you cry - a childish thought, considering you're trying to make a case for being mature, but you can't help it. You know he's capable of being gentle, of being kind. You've experienced it with him before, quiet moments between the two of you in his apartment while waiting for Tess to return, making small talk, him peering at you with a softness in those brown eyes that have since made frequent appearances in your dreams. Moments where you swear you felt wanted under that gaze, but it must've been in your head, because you certainly don't feel wanted right now.

He doesn't look well, you have to admit. His skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, getting paler by the second, turning an unnatural grey color akin to some of the hair on his head. His eyes are glassy, dark bags settled beneath them that you've noticed getting worse and worse over the past few weeks. You shoot a glance at his hands again and are surprised to see that he's loosened his grip, that his fingers seem to be trembling against the rubber.

"Joel," you say, raising your voice a bit, "Joel, are you okay?"

His lack of response no longer angers you - it worries you. Carefully, you reach over and slowly wrap your hand around his right wrist, eyes trained on his face. At your touch, he finally turns to look at you, almost like he's only just noticed you're even there.

"You say somethin'?" he asks, voice raspy, a bit slurred.

Your grip tightens on his wrist, "I think you should stop the car."

He looks at you curiously, dazedly. It's the expression of a man who's running on two, maybe three hours of sleep in the last few days. You choose your next words carefully, eyes flickering back and forth toward his face and the road that he's suddenly no longer watching.

"Let's slow down a bit," you murmur, thumb stroking gently along his skin - he's warm, warmer than normal - "I'm gonna drive the rest of the way, okay?"

You expect some pushback, an attempt at an argument, but the tiredness is setting in quickly. Without any hesitation he eases his foot off the gas and you hurriedly reach your own leg over into his space to push down on the brake. He doesn't seem to notice the way your bare leg brushes his jeans, the crease in your knee bending over the warmth of his thigh.

"There we go," you say softly, bringing the car to a slow stop. He's still looking at you, eyes unfocused as you carefully lean over a little more to unbuckle his seatbelt. You try to ignore how good he smells, how big he is compared to you, putting all your attention on getting him out of the front seat. You unlock his door and then unbuckle your own belt, hurrying out of the car to his side.

"M'okay," he mumbles as soon as you open his door. You start to help him out, and you think he's becoming a little more aware of the situation now, allowing you to pull him to his feet as you tug open the back door. "What's happenin'?"

"You're just tired," you tell him softly, "It's okay, you can sleep in the back, I'll drive."

"Bill n' Frank's," he says as you lead him the right way, pushing him a little and helping him place his knee down on the seat, "Y'know where it is? You remember?"

"I do," you tell him confidently, your hand coming down to press flat against his back - he's so solid, heat radiating against your palm, "Only twenty minutes away now, I got it. You just sleep."

He doesn't argue; in fact, he makes your job easier by crawling onto the seat and settling down with a low groan, rolling onto his back and breathing deeply. You can't help but let a small smile cross your features, watching as one of his hands comes up to rest atop his belly, the other dangling onto the floor. His eyelashes flutter a little, lips parting, and you're about to shut the door when he speaks again.

"I know you jus' wanna help, baby."

You stand there for a moment just staring at him, confusion racing through your thoughts. Goosebumps rise on your flesh as the last word repeats like a mantra in your head, steady and slow as Joel drifts off. It's only when the door is shut and you're in the front seat that you're able to put some meaning to the words, eyes wide as you stare at the faded lines on the road.

I know what I'm doing, you'd said, I just wanna help.

You leave him in the car when you get to Bill and Frank's, typing in the gate code with a backward glance at his loose form in the backseat. They must see him on one of the security monitors, because as soon as the doors open you spot them sprinting out of the house toward you, a scanner gripped in Bill's hand. Typical.

"He's okay," you tell them as soon as you're out of the car, instantly alleviating their stress, "He's just exhausted, I think he needs to sleep for a little while."

"Understatement of the century," Frank replies with a relieved laugh, eyeing the backseat, "Think we can get him in the house?"

"Just leave him in the car," Bill says with a wave of his hand, already turning to head back towards the house with the scanner hanging out of his pocket, "He'll be fine."

Your gaze meets Frank's and he rolls his eyes, "Come on, baby, let's get him upstairs." Your brows go up at the pet name, the same word that had fallen from Joel's lips only twenty minutes ago, but then Bill is shuffling back over with an annoyed look on his face and you quickly realize he's not talking to you.

Getting Joel out of the car proves to be a lot more difficult than getting him in. You try a gentle approach at first, brushing his arm and stroking his skin with your thumb again like you'd done earlier. You can feel Frank's eyes on you as you squeeze Joel's bicep, his wrist, his thigh, and you pretend you don't see the look that passes between him and Bill as you step out to let them take a turn.

Bill goes for a much more aggressive approach, shaking Joel's shoulders wildly and practically yanking him out of the car. Understandably, Joel wakes with a gasp and kicks his legs out, hand reaching for his pistol as he frantically tries to escape Bill's grasp. Before he can grab it though, he's suddenly falling forward, knees buckling as he faceplants onto the pavement beside the car.

Well, that certainly wakes him up. His hands press into the gravel and his head shoots up, blood trickling down his nose as he peers up at the three of you, stunned.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Bill," Frank groans.

"That was not my fault."

Ignoring them, you kneel down and gently touch Joel's shoulder, a concerned look on your face as you eye the splattered blood on the ground, "Fuck, are you okay?"

"What in the hell is goin' on?" he groans, turning to look at you, "Did Bill just break my fuckin' nose?"

"Don't be dramatic," Bill barks, spinning on the spot and heading into the house, "Shoulda just left you in the car."

Joel starts scrambling after him, rising up and standing on wobbly legs, hand reaching for his pistol once again. You and Frank grab him before he can do anything, both of you taking an arm and holding him back.

"Joel, you're exhausted," you tell him quickly, utilizing all your strength, "You just need to lay down. Please."

He turns his face to look at you and something flutters in your chest when you catch the way his eyes soften, the anger in his expression fading as he acknowledges your presence. You can vaguely make out Frank watching the two of you in your periphery, but you try your best to ignore it, instead opting to give Joel a reassuring smile.

"Let's just get you cleaned up, okay?"

You're grateful that Frank leaves you alone with Joel to tend to his nose. You've only met him a handful of times, but each time he'd somehow been able to clock the way you interact with Joel, the way you look at him. The last time you'd been here he'd subtly pulled you aside to give you a few words of wisdom.

"You do realize he's extremely unavailable, right?"

"I- I don't know what you're talking about."

He'd smiled, tapped his nose and given you a knowing look, "And I don't just mean because of Tess. That man is emotionally constipated, kiddo. He's an island." He'd laughed then at your confused expression, shaking his head, "Just be careful, s'all I'm saying."

You'd gone to walk away, forget the conversation even happened, when he'd softly called after you:

"And I'm pretty sure Tess would hang your head on her wall."

You think of those words now as you stand in front of Joel in the small bathroom off the landing, lip between your teeth as you eye the cut on his nose. It isn't broken, thank fuck, but you can see some dirt and gravel in there that you need to clean out.

"It's not broken," you tell him softly. He's sitting on the edge of the bath tub, peering up at you with a much more alert expression. The fall definitely woke him up, not to mention the choice words he and Bill had thrown at each other as you and Frank helped him up the stairs. He's still exhausted though, and he needs to rest.

"I know it's not," he grumbles, "Just wanted to give Bill a piece of my mind for once."

You laugh softly as you reach for the damp cloth beside you, bringing it up to carefully pat it against the gash on the bridge of his nose. You can feel his eyes on you, watching and assessing as you do your best to wipe the area clean.

"I can do that myself," he murmurs.

"I just wanna help," you say quietly, and your eyes fall to his in a knowing glance. He doesn't seem to remember though, just nods and lets you carry on.

It's rare for you to be this alone with him. And by that, you mean this far from Tess. You're painfully aware that it would be impossible for her to walk in at any moment, to see the way you're standing over him, touching him. Frank's words from last time echo in your head but you're not quite sure you believe them; would she really be that angry if she knew how you felt about Joel? It's not like he'd return it, right? The man is twenty years your senior and, as Frank said, extremely unavailable. Not to mention Tess and Joel's relationship has been a point of confusion to you for a year now, still unsure exactly what they are to each other - would she really care?

You reach for the antiseptic - one of the many perks of having an injury in a supply house - and carefully dab some onto the cloth. Your hand trembles a bit as you reach up to carefully hold Joel's chin, your thumb getting lost in his greying beard.

"You haven't shaved in a while," you breathe, your eyes meeting his, and you wonder if you've already crossed a line by even noticing.

He doesn't seem to mind though, sighing deeply, "I haven't slept in a while, so let's hurry this up," he eyes the cloth, "Don't gotta warn me, just do it."

His words bring you back to the present, and you slowly ease the cloth down onto his cut. He hisses a bit, a normal reaction, but it only takes a few seconds to clean and then you're already reaching for a bandage, reluctantly letting go of his chin.

"I was worried about you, before. In the car," you tell him softly, unpeeling the adhesive, "Why haven't you been sleeping?"

His eyes fall to the floor, "I just don't sleep good. Never have."

"Is there anything I can do?"

He shrugs, gives you a humorless laugh, "Handful o' pills and a couple sips o' whiskey usually does the trick."

It makes sense, then, why these past few weeks he's seemed worse. It's been longer than usual since your last supply run and the three of you had started running out of vital supplies over a week ago now, not only for buyers but for yourselves. Joel had written whiskey near the top of the latter list, along with hydromorphone which he'd underlined several times.

"You should've told me you weren't feeling well," you murmur, applying the bandage carefully, "I could've driven the whole way."

"Could've, should've," he dismisses you with a grunt, "Doesn't matter now, does it? We got here, that's what counts."

You linger a little longer than you should on the bandage, thumb falling to gently trace the crease of his nose as you assess your work. It might scar, but it feels pointless to voice this - he already has so many, scattered across his face and neck like confetti. It hurts a little, knowing he's been through so much, seeing the evidence written all over him.

"My mom had this superstition," you tell him softly, a smile playing at your lips as you trace one of the scars under his eye, soft and delicate, "Whenever I got hurt, skinned my knee or busted my elbow playing, she'd bandage me up and then kiss it. She said a kiss would seal her love in there, keep me safe and protected. And if it scarred, that meant it worked."

He blinks at you, expression faltering a bit, "That's...that's a nice thought."

You shake your head, "It's silly, and not true. But... but I still do it anyway, even though she's gone. Just in case," you bite your lip, "I mean, who doesn't wanna feel a little more safe? A little more protected?"

Your gazes lock, and neither of you seem to move, caught in the stillness of the moment and the way your thumb is still stroking his face. You know you have limited time, maybe a few seconds before he breaks it, so without much thought at all you lean down and lightly press your lips to the bandage, eyes closed.

He inhales sharply, a sound that triggers butterflies in your tummy as you hold your mouth against his nose, soft and sweet. It's the closest you've ever been to him, even if you're kissing gauze and not skin - you can still feel the warmth radiating from him, sense the way he freezes below you. A squeaking sound pierces the silence, his hand squeezing the edge of the bath tub tightly. It startles you, your eyes blinking open as you pull back to look at him.

His cheeks are tinged pink, eyelids heavy as he peers up at you with slow blinks.

"You're tired," you breathe, unable to stop your hand from flitting to his hair, pushing a little behind his ear, "Let's get you to bed."

The Joel Miller in Bill and Frank's guest room is not the Joel Miller you thought you knew.

This Joel is loose, pliant. He lets you lead him into the bedroom with a hand on his back, lets you carefully turn him on the spot to reach up and undo the buttons on his flannel. Frank had told you on your way up to make sure Joel didn't get blood on the sheets, so you're only following orders, only doing what you were told.

"Sorry," you murmur softly, fingers shaking every so often as they toy with the buttons, sticky with his blood. Joel doesn't seem to notice though, retreating more and more into the sleepy state he'd been in earlier.

Once his flannel is off you assess his t-shirt and jeans, and you're not sure how to feel about the fact that they didn't get dirty in the fall. On the other hand, though, you're not sure you'd have been brave enough to take them off. Instead you help him toward the bed, pull back the sheets and carefully push him ahead.

"There you go," you whisper, helping him under the covers and pulling the blankets back over him. The sun is streaming through the window, casting the golden light of early evening across the bed, and while it's quite beautiful you shut the curtains anyway, knowing he'll sleep better in darkness. When you turn back around, he's already fallen asleep, lips parted, face peaceful. A different man.

You don't linger, even though you want to.

It's around ten o'clock when you decide to check on him again. You'd watched a movie with Bill and Frank, feeling more than a little unwelcome as Bill tossed you a few dirty looks every so often, though Frank repeatedly told you to ignore him. Now they're in bed downstairs while you pad from your own room across the hall to Joel's, turning the knob carefully. The hinges squeak a little as you open it and you wince.

"Who's there?" you hear Joel grumble from the bed. So much for just taking a peek.

"Me, just me." You push the door wider and walk inside, eyebrows going up when Joel turns on the bedside lamp. He seems a little more rested, although you know he still needs a full night's sleep. "I sent a message to Tess through the radio to let her know we're not coming back tonight - well, Frank did. Picked a song called Tomorrow or something like that."

"Hope it was the Johnny Mathis version," he mumbles, and you watch as he brings his hands up to rub across his face. He accidentally dismantles the bandage and you step forward without really thinking, hurrying to his side and reaching down to fix it.

His hand comes up to grab yours and you freeze in place.

"I can do it," he says, giving you a curt look and then releasing your hand to adjust the gauze himself.

Well, you suppose lax and sleepy Joel couldn't stick around forever. You stand awkwardly by the side of the bed, toying with the edge of the blanket as he rubs his eyes and sits up a little, leaning back against the headboard. He looks so much older in this light; you can see the little flecks of grey in his beard and hair that have been starting to get more noticeable lately, the crows feet, the wrinkles.

He's so handsome.

He turns to look at you with a frown, as if he's only just realizing what you said, "We can go back tonight, I'm fine."

"You're not and you know it. Besides, it's already past ten and now I'm tired, I won't be able to drive."

"I can drive."

"Joel," you surprise yourself by sitting down on the edge of the bed, narrowing your brow as you give him a serious look, "You can't drive. You almost fucking killed us both."

"No I-"

"Yes you did," your tone is firm, suddenly angry - are you angry? - "If I hadn't been talking to you, if I hadn't noticed something was wrong, you would've driven us off the damn road."

He goes quiet at that, frown deepening, the lines on his face more prominent in the low lamplight. You sigh, eyes falling to rest on where your hand is settled on the bed, only inches from his. Part of you wants to reach out and touch, feel the warmth of his skin, the rough of his palm - the other part decides to do something even more stupid.

"You called me baby."

It's out of your mouth before you've even really acknowledged it, and once the words have tumbled out you know there's no taking them back. Your gaze snaps back up to his, slightly surprised to see that he doesn't seem very shocked by your admission.

He clears his throat a little, averting his gaze and shuffling a bit under the covers, "Did I?"

"...Yeah."

You think maybe he'll say something else - anything else - but he doesn't. God, it really is like pulling teeth with him; he's so fucking beautiful but so impossible, never being able to expand on something unless prompted, never being able to answer a single question without jerking you around first. How the fuck has Tess managed to deal with it for so long?

The thought of Tess sends a wave of guilt through your body, Frank's words echoing in your head, but you shove it down.

"What made you... I mean why..." your voice is soft, apprehensive and shy in the quiet of the bedroom, "why'd you call me baby?"

A beat of silence. Then-

"Don't ask me that."

The mood has shifted, your sudden anger ebbing and his annoyance fading into something else, something on the brink of being real. He's avoiding your eyes, peering at the window with the curtains drawn and tapping his fingers anxiously against the mattress, so close to your hand. He's nervous; you're making him nervous.

You stay silent, hoping he'll speak again, hoping maybe just this one time he'll tell you what he's thinking.

"I don't know why."

The words are barely a whisper, almost like he's telling you a secret, and he leaves them hanging in the air briefly before amending - "Well," he sighs and finally looks at you, an emotion you can't place crossing his features, "that's not true. But... I didn't mean - fuck, I was passin' out, for Christ's sake, I didn't realize-"

He cuts himself off again, raising his hand up to press his fingers to the bridge of his nose, briefly forgetting the bandage. He winces when he comes in contact with the gauze, "Can I take this off? It's drivin' me fuckin' crazy."

"Let me do it," you say quietly, inching forward on the bed and reaching for his face. He flinches when you go to touch him, and your hand freezes mid-air.

"Sorry," he mutters, shaking his head like he's shaking off a sensation, a chill, "Go ahead."

With careful - and slightly trembling - fingers, you remove the bandage from his nose. It looks much better than before, no fresh blood in sight, and you suppose it's okay for him to keep it uncovered for the night. Without really thinking about it you gently thumb the side of his nose just shy of the cut, the tips of your other fingers brushing against his cheek.

"It's not too bad," you murmur, and before you know it you're suddenly cupping his jaw, feeling the weight of it in your palm. Your gaze falls to his lips, your thoughts going a mile a minute.

You realize you're close enough that you could kiss him, if you really wanted to. If he really wanted to. All it would take is one small movement, one little push from the both of you, one leap of faith...

And then he whispers your name, almost a warning, and it's like his thoughts are mirroring yours - like he can see exactly what you're picturing, wishing for. Your eyes meet his and you feel a flutter in your stomach when you see the way he's looking at you, a quiet hunger hidden in the deep brown.

You decide to test the waters. You lean in and softly press another kiss to his nose, this time without the gauze in the way. Just like you'd thought, his skin is hot under your lips, soft but scarred, and his smell - god, he smells so masculine and safe, invading your senses as your lips trail downwards to press a small kiss to his cupid's bow, then another to the corner of his mouth. It's sharp, prickly from his scruff, but it doesn't bother you in the slightest - in fact, you kind of like the dull pain, the way it grounds you, keeps you in the moment.

"Baby," he whispers, and a soft little whine falls from your lips without meaning to as your lips move to ghost across his mouth, going for another kiss - a real kiss.

He pulls away before you get there, but then his hand comes up to touch your face, big and wide. He holds you like you're precious, small. His baby.

"S'not right," he whispers, though his thumb strokes your cheek soothingly, "S'not okay for me to want you like that."

You close your eyes at his touch, breathing deeply, "But you do."

"Yeah, I do," you hear him murmur, "You know I do."

"For how long?"

He doesn't respond right away, just continues to stroke your cheek, hold what feels like all of you in his warm palm. You tilt your head a bit to the side, eyes fluttering open to look at him again. You catch the way his lips turn up a little at the movement.

"Too damn long," he sighs, "But that don't... that's not..." he brings his other hand up to cup the other side of your face, holding you still as he peers at you in earnest, brow furrowed, "Point is, we shouldn't... you shouldn't be out here alone with me. Tess knows how I-" he cuts himself off again, and you can see now how difficult it is for him to communicate like this, to be open and honest, "I told her it wasn't a good idea."

"Why?"

He laughs lightly, thumbs circling the apples of your cheeks, "'Cause look where we ended up." He swallows, eyes falling to your lips, "Look where you are right now, baby. Look where my damn hands are for cryin' out loud."

"Keep calling me baby," you breathe, a desperation in your voice that betrays your emotions, tears pricking in your eyes as the weight of this conversation comes crashing down around you. He wants you - he's always wanted you. His words to Tess about not wanting to put you in danger, wanting you to stay away, those soft looks you've shared in his apartment, the small talk, all of it - it's because he wants you.

"We can't do this," he murmurs, leaning in to press his forehead to yours, eyes closing, "I can't do this, you're so- you're too-" he groans, fingers digging into your hair, "You're so young, baby."

"I don't care," you whine, butting your head forward to chase his lips, suddenly yearning to be kissed and held and protected by him, be wrapped in his embrace.

But he pulls away, removing his hands from your face and shuffling back a bit on the bed, away from you. Your hand drops but you reach out pathetically for him anyway, moving closer, attempting to pull the covers back. His hands capture yours and he squeezes them firmly, shaking his head.

"You need to go back to your room," he tells you, and his tone has changed from soft to serious, "It's late and I'm... well, you know I'm fuckin' exhausted. And you've had a long day." He looks at you with pleading eyes, like he's silently begging for you not to put him in this situation, "Let's just call it a night, okay?"

"But-" you start, tears shining in your eyes.

"Please," he breathes, "Please don't make this harder than it needs to be."

You do not want to get up from his bed. But you do.

You do not want to leave his room. But you do.

You do not want to lie awake in your own bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about how his hands felt on your face, the way his eyes searched yours, the way his skin felt under your lips.

But you do.

You lie there for hours, thumbs twiddling against your belly, tears trickling down your cheeks every so often. All you can hear in your mind over and over again is the word Baby, punctuated by that soft groan he'd made, the way his thumbs had stroked your cheeks, how large and warm and safe he'd seemed in that bed.

All you want to do is be in that bed with him.

So it's no surprise when, as the sun is beginning to rise and that warm golden light starts to stream through your window, you crawl out from under your blankets and cross the hall one more time.

"We shouldn't" he murmurs when you climb into bed with him, when you tuck yourself into his side and bury your face in his shoulder, but his hands are already in your hair, fingers stroking along the back of your head.

Your bodies mold together like they've always been meant to fit that way, your legs tangled with his, arms trapped under big biceps and hairy forearms, breasts flush with his suddenly bare chest.

"I wanna be your baby," you whisper.

The nose you'd kissed brushes slowly up and down the side of your face, and he doesn't hesitate this time. He reaches up to turn your head, presses his lips against yours and lets you melt into him. Lets you trail your hand downward to unbutton his jeans in the silence of the early morning.

"You already are."

[girlgenius1111]

give yourself a reason

engen!reader memories, and the present. changes. sol reflects on how different her life is now. good different. even if getting to the good was hard. here she is.

warnings: discussions of depression. sol gets into a fight. with people, and then a mug and a picture frame so, some blood.

------

It was a bit of a deja vu moment, honestly. You were sitting in the dean’s office once again, only a couple months after the last time. Then, you had been pretending you didn’t care. A lot had happened since, and a casualty of the progress you’d made was that you could no longer pretend not to care. You did care. You cared so much, you thought you might throw up. 

You’d begged them not to call Ingrid. Begged. They had anyway. You couldn’t help but worry about her reaction to this most recent fight, though it hadn’t been your fault. You hadn’t been in trouble since everything had happened, and you weren’t quite sure what to expect. Would everything change? Would Ingrid still want you? Every set back you had, every mistake you made, had you convinced that Ingrid was going to change her mind, and send you back to Norway. You were working on it, thinking of yourself as worthy of their love, but it wasn’t easy, and you felt your eyes stinging with tears that had nothing to do with the beating your face had taken. 

You weren’t sure you could go back to not feeling loved, not when you’d been experiencing something so different recently. The dean didn’t seem to care that your face was rapidly swelling, that you were crying, or that you hadn’t stopped bouncing your knee since you’d been brought into the office. He’d already let the boys go with a warning. He hadn’t even called their parents. You didn’t know what to do when Ingrid arrived, didn’t know whether to try to explain, or to stay quiet and just take your punishment. 

You felt so weak, suddenly. Crying, in front of this absolute asshole? Normally, you’d never let a person you didn’t know well see you this emotional, but your face really hurt, and honestly, you just wanted a hug. You were pretty terrified, though, that you wouldn’t get one. 

That you didn’t deserve one. 

The speaker in the office crackled to life, then, and the secretary’s voice rang out into the room. “Ms. Engen’s guardian is here.” 

The dean took a break from glaring at you to hit the button on the speaker. “Send her in.” 

You directed your gaze at the ground and tried to make yourself as small as possible, hearing the door open behind you.

“Mi sol, are you okay?” Mapi said instantly, moving quickly into the room and crouching down next to your chair. You refused to look at her, and she knew she had to be careful about this. Mapi showing up instead of Ingrid was a relief, but only for a moment. Then, you were just worried that she was too mad to come get you. 

“I was expecting the elder Ms. Engen,” the principal began, though he was quickly interrupted by your sister’s girlfriend. 

“Ingrid couldn’t get away from work, and I am a guardian too. Her face is bleeding, and her hands. Has she been seen by the nurse?” Mapi asked bitingly, scowling at the man on the other side of the desk. 

He looked a little put out. “Well, no, we were-” 

“Jesus, she could have a concussion.” Mapi snapped, her gentle hand on your back completely contradicting her sharp tone.   

“I don’t think-” 

Mapi ignored his response completely, slowly moving her hand up and down your back. You were shaking, and Mapi knew that if she wanted to avoid a panic attack, she had to do something, soon. 

“Mi sol?” she asked in a much softer tone, frowning when you shook your head. You knew if you looked at Mapi you’d burst into tears, and you absolutely did not want to do that in front of the dean. 

Mapi thought for a minute, before she turned back to the man. “Can we have a minute please.”

It wasn’t really posed as a question, and the man frowned at Mapi before nodding somewhat indignantly and walking out of the room. As soon as the door shut behind him, you looked up, breaking Mapi’s heart with the terrified look on your face, and the rough sob that fell from your lips.  

“Oh, nena,” Mapi sighed, seeing the extent of the damage to your face for the first time. It was mostly bruises and a very swollen lip. Your knuckles were swollen, too, but there were very few cuts on your face, and for that, she was glad. Mapi’s hands flitted over your face, her own scrunched with worry. “I’m so sorry this happened.” 

“Is Ingrid mad? Is that why she isn’t here?” You choked out.

Mapi shook her head, carefully wiping a tear off your face. “No, no, she couldn’t get away from training. She isn’t mad, I promise, she sent me to come bring you to her so she could see you were okay.” 

“Are you sure she’s not mad?” 

“I promise, cariño. She is not mad at you.” Mapi replied seriously. “Tell me what happened.” 

“They came at me, Mapi, I promise I didn’t start it.” You cried, almost pleading with her to believe you. 

“I believe you, I believe you.” The Spaniard soothed. “Where are they?” 

“He let them go with a warning.” You told her, watching as her face hardened. She seemed to think for a minute, before she stood, gesturing for you to do the same. 

“Fuck this. I’m taking you to your sister. Ingrid and I will come back later to speak to the dean and see the security footage. Venga.” 

“Mapi, I’m in trouble,” you tried to tell her, but she just shook her head. 

“Not with us. We’ll deal with it later, I promise. I want to get you taken care of and calmed down first, and I don’t think I can do that here.” Mapi told you gently, pulling you out of the room when you nodded hesitantly. You hadn’t realized you were shaking intensely until Mapi had mentioned getting you calmed down. You supposed you were getting close to a panic attack, and just hadn’t noticed. 

You continued to tune out as Mapi led you out of the office, standing in front of you protectively when she addressed the dean. 

“Ingrid and I will be back later to discuss the situation. We’re leaving now.” She told him. 

He looked at her with an incredulous expression on his face. “She can’t just leave, we have to discuss her punishment.” 

“We can discuss it later.” Mapi repeated, turning without another word towards the door, guiding you out of the school. 

Once you were out the door, Mapi wrapped an arm around your shoulders, steadying your shaky steps. “Alright, we’re almost to the car, just hang on, okay?” 

You could only nod in response, starting to lose yourself in your head, clinging tightly onto Mapi. Time seemed to speed up, or skip ahead entirely as suddenly you found yourself in the passenger seat of the car, your sister’s girlfriend buckling your seatbelt for you. 

“In and out, nena. Just breathe. Everything is okay. No one is upset with you.” Mapi was saying, waiting for you to give a faint nod before she made her way over to the driver's side door. It was quiet in the car save for the hum of the engine and the gasping inhales and exhales coming from you every few seconds. 

“Tell me what you’re worried about.” Mapi instructed, taking your hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

“Ingrid- Ingrid is gonna be mad and make me go back to Norway,” you breathed, shutting your eyes as another wave of panic washed over you.

“That is not going to happen.” Mapi said confidently, grabbing her phone and clicking Ingrid’s contact. Her girlfriend picked up astoundingly quickly considering she was supposed to be training, and her voice over the phone made you both terrified and reassured at the same time. 

“We’re in the car, she was too upset, we can come talk to the dean later.”

“What do you mean she’s too upset? Is she okay?” Ingrid asked worriedly. 

“Talk to her.” Mapi instructed, holding the phone out to you. You looked at her pleadingly, but she just nodded encouragingly, eyes fixed on the road in front of her. “It’s okay, nena, just tell Ingrid what you told me.” 

Ingrid could tell when you took the phone, as she could suddenly hear your rapid breaths as you gulped in air and tried to get the words out. “Hey, it’s just me. You can tell me.” Ingrid said softly. 

You closed your eyes, focusing on the feeling of Mapi’s thumb tracing over the back of your hand instead of the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. “M’ scared you’re mad and you’re going to send me back to Norway.” 

“I’m not mad. This wasn’t your fault, just like the last one wasn’t, and I am not angry with you. You are not going back to Norway. You are staying right here with me and Mapi. You’re okay, Solstråle, I promise.” 

“Okay.” You said, nodding your head as you replayed her words over and over in your head. “Okay.” 

“Okay, sweetheart. I have to go, but Mapi is bringing you over, okay? I’ll see you soon.” 

Mapi quickly bid her girlfriend a goodbye before hanging up, though her hand didn’t release yours for the rest of the car ride. 

Getting to the Barça grounds was somewhat of a blur, and before you knew it, Mapi was leading you to the pitch where Ingrid was running drills. When Ingrid spotted you, loitering on the sidelines, she spoke a few quick words to Jona before making her way over.. You were half hidden behind Mapi, which was no accident, but the concern on Ingrid’s face brought another round of tears to your eyes. You stepped forward anxiously, bottom lip beginning to wobble. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ingrid sighed, getting a quick look at the wounds on your face before you were barrelling into her and wrapping your arms tightly around your sister. “Hey, it’s okay.” She whispered, running her hand through your tangled hair in a soothing manner. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you blubbered. If you had been even a smidge calmer, you would have been embarrassed about sobbing into your sister’s training kit in front of most of the team. 

“Don’t apologize, Solstråle. Everything is okay.” She soothed, looking over your shoulder at Mapi, before pulling away from the hug to examine your face. She frowned deeply at the damage that had been inflicted, trying to shove her anger down. It would only scare you further, and you really didn’t need that right now. 

“It hurts,” you whimpered, flinching as Ingrid’s finger accidentally made contact with an already forming bruise. The way you were acting was so out of character for you, Ingrid felt her worry growing by the second. You were so upset, you were shaking and sobbing. It hadn’t really occurred to anyone how triggering this might be for you, what a reminder this fight would be. Not just of what had happened a few months ago, but of your time in Norway. There wasn’t a fight you’d gotten into that you didn’t have to take care of your own cuts and bruises. No one ever heard you out, no one was ever not mad at you. 

A fight had been the last straw before you were sent to Spain, and it was as if all the feelings you’d repressed during those occasions were flooding back through your body, until your nervous system was in overdrive. 

“Solstråle,” Ingrid said again, trying to get your attention back on her. You hummed in response, forcing your eyes to focus on your sister. “Two options, okay? We can have the physios patch your face up, or we can go see a doctor. What would you prefer?”

It was something Mapi had read in her definitely-not-a-parenting parenting book. Giving you options in a situation you were anxious about forced you to calm down a bit, and choose. It gave you a sense of control, while still ensuring that you did what had to be done. 

“Physios.” You told her, after just a minute of consideration. “Go back to training, Ingrid. I’ll be okay.” 

You were trying to be brave, Ingrid could tell. She allowed you this façade, and with both an encouraging smile and a promise that she’d come see you in a minute, she ran back to the pitch. Mapi led you inside, her arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders. 

The physios were a tolerable experience, completely allowing Mapi to direct them. They didn’t touch you unless you agreed, each time asking before they made sure your lip was okay, or inspected a forming bruise. You very rarely got to see intense Mapi off the pitch, and it was interesting to see it now. When she spoke to the physios, asking question after question about your injuries, she was dead serious. When she turned to you, though, to shoot you an encouraging smile or squeeze your hand, she was back to being the Mapi you knew. 

She took care of you like you were her own. 

------

Upon returning home, Ingrid refused to let you retreat to your room and hide yourself away. You’d spent too long alone, when you’d first arrived. She was going to support you, and she intended to prove that. 

So, you laid on the couch, your head in your sister’s lap, a Norwegian sitcom playing on the TV. Ingrid was holding ice to one of your eyes, glaring down at you anytime you tried to remove the other ice laid across your knuckles. Mapi was making pancakes in the kitchen, at your request. Scout was on the floor next to the couch, though he picked his head up to check on you every few minutes. 

You were home, and you couldn’t help but compare today to the last time.

Ingrid had come to the school, and been furious at you. Today, she was furious for you. 

They’d left you that night, to go off to some team dinner. Now, you weren’t quite sure that Ingrid was going to let you out of her sight for at least a few days. 

You’d been alone, then, and now you weren’t. 

And though today had been pretty horrific, it was another little reminder of how different everything was. You loved those reminders, and you got them often. You tried to remember each one, how good it felt. To be loved, to be seen. To be liked. To be cared for. It was new, and it always surprised you a little. Every time something happened, and you remembered what it had been like to be alone, Ingrid and Mapi were there to remind you that you weren’t anymore. 

-

-

-

It was just one of those days. 

You wanted to stay home, like you wanted to on that day. Before, when everything in the house had been tense and you’d barely spoken to your sister. School had been difficult back then, not that it wasn’t now, but more difficult. Ingrid knew how much you were struggling, but assumed it was a lack of effort on your part. And so, when you quietly asked her if you could stay home because you weren’t feeling the best, Ingrid hadn’t believed you. 

“Ingrid, please. I really don’t feel well.” You begged, fighting back the tears that were pricking at your eyes, even though you knew that they would probably help your case. 

“How? What doesn’t feel well?” Ingrid asked, trying to be patient. Your hatred of school was starting to bother her. She didn’t understand why you wouldn’t just try a little harder. At your work, and at making friends. 

You floundered for a minute, not sure how to describe what you were feeling. You supposed the word was depressed, but there was no way you’d admit to that. Ingrid didn’t need to worry about you like you knew she would if she understood what was really going on. At the same time, you wished desperately that she would see through your excuses. 

You’d been silent for too long, and Ingrid sighed, zipping up her bag for training and walking over to you. She didn’t look sympathetic, exactly, but she didn’t look as harsh as she normally did. 

“I know school is hard. But skipping isn’t going to make anything better, okay? You just need to try a little harder.” She said, resting her hands on your shoulders and looking intently at your face. As usual, your expression gave very little away. All you gave her was a small shrug, before you picked your bag up with a sigh and headed for the car. 

You were trying your best. How couldn’t she see that?

It hit you similarly today, as it had on that day.

 You wanted to lay in your bed and not move. Your body was heavier than normal. Breathing was hard, moving was harder. All you could do was think. And think, and think, and think. It wasn’t sadness that you felt, not necessarily. It was exhaustion, and an almost numb ache. 

You were pretty sure Ingrid wouldn’t make you go to school if you told her the truth, you just weren’t really sure what to say. It was nearing the time you were supposed to leave for school, though, and you still hadn’t gotten out of bed. It would only be a matter of time before Mapi came in to see why you hadn’t left your room yet. So, you dragged yourself out of bed, your whole body feeling too heavy, and you walked downstairs. 

Ingrid was in the kitchen, eating breakfast while Mapi made all three of your coffees. Your sister turned to look at you, her good morning dying on her lips when she saw the look on your face. It must have been pretty bad, if Ingrid’s reaction was any indication. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Ingrid asked, abandoning her breakfast to walk closer and place her hand on your forehead, checking for a fever. 

“No.” You said honestly, trying to breathe through the panic that always accompanied honesty. Mapi joined Ingrid in front of you, her brow creased in concern. She couldn’t figure out from looking at you what was going on, you just looked… wrong. Unlike yourself. 

“Are you sick?” 

“No. I just… I don’t feel right.” 

“What do you mean, Sol? What’s wrong?” Mapi asked, nudging Ingrid’s hand off your forehead to replace it with her own. 

“I don’t know how to explain it. I just want to go back to sleep.” You mumbled, a single tear falling down your face.

“Try to explain it to me?” Ingrid requested. You knew it was a request, though, and that made it easier to answer her. Her worry for you was coming off her in waves, and though you were pretty sure it was warranted, you didn’t want her to panic. 

“It’s just a bad day. I’ll be okay.”  

 Ingrid and Mapi exchanged glances, before your sister nodded slowly. You often described tough mental health days as simply  bad days. You didn’t like to be overly descriptive, or really admit what was going on, and that was the closest you’d get. 

“Okay, kjære. Go back up to bed.” 

“Thanks,” you muttered, moving to turn away. 

“Wait,” Mapi said, grabbing you by the arm and tugging you into a hug that was probably too tight, but felt nice all the same. Mapi’s hugs were always comforting, always made you feel safe. “You’ll be okay here by yourself?” 

You knew what she was asking, and you tried to speak clearly, even with your chin resting on the Spaniard’s shoulder. “I will, promise.” 

As soon as Mapi had released you, Ingrid was pressing a kiss to your forehead, a gesture that never really failed to make you emotional. You remember seeing your parents kiss her forehead when you were growing up. And while your parents never really did the same with you, Ingrid had. She was always willing to give you the love she was overflowing with, especially when you were sorely lacking it. 

“I love you, okay? Call me if you need me.” Ingrid said firmly, almost as if to reinforce how much she meant it. 

You agreed, promising yourself that you wouldn’t interrupt training. You knew they’d already be distracted by being worried about you, and you didn’t want to ruin their day anymore than you already were. 

The logical part of you knew this was ridiculous. It was getting easier and easier to identify unhealthy thoughts, but a part of you still believed them. Especially when you were already having a bad day. You didn’t want to be any more of a burden than you already were. 

You were the farthest thing from a burden for Ingrid and Mapi, but it was an almost insurmountable challenge to actually believe that. 

-------

You’d hoped, perhaps, that by resting right off the bat, you’d escape the worst of the depressive episode. This was a naive thought. Or maybe, you would have if you’d asked your sister to stay home with you. 

You really really didn’t want to be alone. It had been a while since you hadn’t felt safe around yourself, but here you were again. You thought you were done with this, over this. It was upsetting to realize that you weren’t, not completely. That this wasn’t something you could just… get over. It was a result of your brain chemistry as much as your lived experiences, and you could be smothered with all the love in the world. That wouldn’t fix the genuine problem inside your head. 

You were asleep when Ingrid got home. 

Her and Mapi weren’t expecting you to call them, even if you needed them, but they had texted you during a break and gotten no answer. Mapi tried not to speed home, but it was difficult when Ingrid was an anxious mess next to her in the passenger seat. 

Upon arriving home, Ingrid dumped her bag right in the entry hall, not bothering to put it away like she normally did, and went right up to your room, sighing in relief at the sight of you in front of her. Mapi was right behind her, melting a bit at the way Scout was perched on the end of your bed protectively, and Bagheera was curled up against your chest. Both of them were taking care of you, she was sure. Bagheera would get a treat and some extra pets, for sure. And Scout would too, but when no one was looking. She had a reputation to uphold, after all.

You awoke to the feeling of someone brushing their fingers through your hair. The reaction you had was different now than it had been a month ago, and Ingrid had done the same thing. Then, you’d startled awake, not used to the gentle touch. Now, you just shifted slightly, content to stay asleep as Ingrid settled on the bed next to you. 

You felt Scout get off the bed, and Mapi begrudgingly agree to take him on a walk. You knew she was faking her dislike of your dog at this point, but it was more fun to go along with it and catch her napping with Scout or giving him extra treats. 

It was only when the cat sneezed rather dramatically on your chest that you cracked an eye open, unimpressed with the lack of decorum from Bagheera. Ingrid was trying to stifle her laughter and you rolled your eyes, stretching and wiping the imaginary sneeze particles off your face. 

“Hi.” You murmured, voice rough with sleep… and with crying, but you were hoping to keep that to yourself. 

Ingrid smiled at you, eyes crinkling at the edges in the way they'd started to recently. It was something Mapi’s eyes did and while you weren’t sure how Ingrid had picked that up from her girlfriend, there was no question in your mind that she had. “Hi. How are you?” 

You shrugged, the momentary distractions from your feelings fading as everything came screeching back into focus. 

“Have you been crying?” Ingrid murmured, eyes stuck on the tear tracks staining your face. 

“A bit. I’m fine.” You replied, trying your best to shake off her concern. 

“You should have called me.” Your sister sighed. 

You shook your head, sitting up against the headboard. It was then that you noticed for the first time that your sister was still in her training kit, when normally she’d shower and change after a session. Her and Mapi must have rushed home. The thought sent a weird feeling through your body; not bad… just different. 

 “No, I was fine. You had training, you can’t miss that for no reason.” 

“There's not no reason. You were having a bad day, and you needed us. Why didn’t you call?”

You shrugged, but Ingrid continued to stare at you, awaiting an answer. “I didn’t want to make you choose between me and football.” you mumbled, picking at a hangnail and avoiding eye contact with your sister. She grabbed your hand though, and used her other hand to tilt your chin up until you were looking at her. 

“There is no choice, Solstråle. I will always come when you need me. It could be the middle of the champions league final, or the middle of training, and I would drop everything to get to you. So would María.” 

You grew teary, trying your best to not cry again. “Okay.” Your voice broke, and Ingrid felt like a piece of her heart went with it. 

“Sol, I mean it. You are more important than any football match or training could ever be. More important than anything else could ever be. You are the most important thing to me.” 

Your expression grew disbelieving, almost stunned. “I’m not worth all that,” 

Ingrid tried not to groan in frustration. It wouldn’t have been fair to make you think she was upset with you, when she was upset with your parents, and with herself. “You are! Solstråle, you are worth that and more.” 

You were getting better, definitely. But your self esteem was always something you struggled with, something you always probably would. No matter how convinced you were, now, that Ingrid and Mapi loved you and wanted you in Spain with them, you still couldn’t comprehend that you were important to them. 

“It just… it wasn’t like that before. I’m not used to this.”

Ingrid’s face fell. “I know. I know you aren’t. But I promise you, sweetheart, even before, even when we argued all the time and I was so hard on you. I cared then just as much as I do now. I just didn’t understand how to help you. But I do now, right? It’s better now?” 

A more confident nod from you. “A lot better.” 

Your sister smiled gently. “I know you’ve felt really alone these last few years. But you aren’t anymore, okay? I’m right here with you.” 

There was something behind her words that felt like a promise, but it wasn’t necessarily a promise you needed to hear. It was one Ingrid had already made through her actions. And through the flood of doubts and insecurities, you knew that she wouldn’t break that promise. 

In that moment, you hated how hard it was for you to be vulnerable. How difficult it was for you to put words to your feelings, and express your appreciation and love for your sister. All you could do was try, though, right?

“Ingrid?” You mumbled after a minute of silence. Ingrid hummed in acknowledgement, squeezing your hand. “You… everything you’ve done for me. You’re just… you���re my favorite person. And I love you.” 

Ingrid could have sobbed, truly. She, too, had struggled to share her feelings her whole life, as you had. She knew just how much it took for you to say something so sincere, and not even make a joke after it. The brunette pulled you in closer to her, leaving a kiss on the side of your head. 

“You know that, right?” You wondered, after Ingrid hadn’t responded right away. She was trying to keep the deep emotion out of her voice, not wanting to make this moment even more difficult for you than she knew it already was. When you turned to look at her, though, catching her just as a tear slid down your face, you understood. 

“I do know, Solstråle. And I love you, so much, min perfekte lillesøster.” 

It didn't really matter as much, that you didn’t think you were perfect. Because for as long as you could remember, Ingrid had been the perfect one. And now she thought you were, too, and that was enough. 

“You’re my favorite person, too.” Ingrid added as an afterthought, pulling you into an even tighter hug. “Just don’t tell-”

“AHEM.” Mapi cleared her throat from the doorway. You whipped your head to look at her, both of you breaking into a fit of giggles at the sight of the very disgruntled defender standing in the doorway. “Well, your not favorite person just came up here to say that she was going to go get you both ice cream, but now…”

It was rather difficult to stop laughing, what with Mapi standing there with her arms crossed, a frown on her face, one foot stomp away from throwing a temper tantrum. You and Ingrid pulled yourselves together, forcing serious expressions onto your faces. 

“Mapi, I was just trying to make Ingrid feel better about herself. You are my favorite. Of course.” 

“Me too, mi amor. You are my favorite.” Ingrid grinned, before very obviously winking at you. 

With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, Mapi turned on her heel and headed downstairs. “I am going to poison your ice cream.” She shouted over her shoulder. 

Mapi was far from upset. It was enough for her that you seemed a bit better, and that her girlfriend’s anxiety had definitely lessened. Although, the day had clearly taken its toll on you and Ingrid, because when Mapi arrived home with the ice cream, she found you both passed out in your bed, your head resting on your sister’s shoulder. 

-

-

-

You swore as you slipped in the small puddle of water on the kitchen floor, almost instantly losing your balance and falling with a thud. The mug you’d been holding fell, too, shattering on impact with the floor. You heard Ingrid call your name, evidently startled by the sound, and moved to sit up on instinct. Instead of putting your hand down on the cold floor, though, you smashed it right down into a pile of mug shards. 

“Jævel!” You shouted, almost jumping at the burst of pain and bringing your hand to your chest. It was bleeding heavily, and you gasped, startled by the amount of blood flowing out of your hand. “Ow, ow, ow,” you winced, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. 

“Sol? You okay?” Ingrid shouted from the top of the stairs. 

You tried to reply, but Mapi beat you to it, appearing in front of  you out of nowhere. “No, she cut her hand. Ven aquí! And bring a clean towel!” The Spaniard shouted, grabbing the broom from the closet and hastily sweeping the shards away from you so she could safely get closer. 

“I’m sorry, Mapi, I’m so sorry,” you said shakily, sure that you were about to be in trouble for not being more careful. The water spill was your fault in the first place, and then it was what you slipped on. Now, you’d broken one of their favorite mugs, and you were getting blood all over the kitchen. 

Mapi only had time to look at you, confused, before Ingrid came running into the room holding a hand towel from upstairs. 

“Jesus, Sol,” Ingrid murmured, crouching down next to where you were and reaching for your hand. You mistook her statement as one of frustration, and not one of worry, and flinched away from her in a way you hadn’t in a very long time. 

“I’m sorry Ingrid, I broke the mug,” you cried. 

Ingrid exchanged a look with her girlfriend, before turning back to you. There was blood all over your shirt, dripping down where your good hand cradled the injured one. Your face was frighteningly pale, and you looked completely terrified. Ingrid paused, though all she wanted to do was get some pressure on your hand, forcing herself to calm down a bit. She wasn’t sure why you were reacting the way you were, but she knew by now to take it seriously. 

“Don’t worry about the mug.” Ingrid said gently, holding her hand out again. “Let me see, Sol.” 

With a pained whimper, you placed your hand in hers. Only then did you look at the wound, and both Mapi and Ingrid watched in alarm as the remaining color drained from your face. 

Ingrid knew what was coming a second before it happened, hastily trying to cover your hand with the towel as you started to sway where you were sitting. “Fuck, she’s gonna pass out,” she warned, unable to catch you as she pressed the towel into your hand, trying to get the bleeding to stop. 

Mapi dropped to her knees just as your eyes rolled back into your head, and you fell limp into her arms. “Ingrid,” she cried, overcome with panic. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, she’s just bad with blood.” Ingrid assured her. She pulled the towel away temporarily to look at your hand, and saw a long slice across your palm. It wasn’t deep, and though you might have nicked a vein, Ingrid was pretty sure you wouldn’t need stitches. Readjusting the towel over your hand, she tried to give her girlfriend a calming smile. “It’s really okay, María. I promise, she just really hates blood.” 

“She passed out!” Mapi yelped. “This does not feel okay!”

Ingrid bit back a laugh, knowing this wasn’t the time or the place. “She’ll wake up in a few minutes, just hold this towel while I get some water for her.” 

Mapi took over with the towel, allowing your head to drop into her lap as Ingrid walked across the kitchen. 

“Ingrid, do we have any smelling salts?” She wondered, poking your cheek a few times as your eyes remained firmly shut. 

“Why, yes, María, let me go check my potion making kit.” 

“I do not appreciate your sarcasm at the moment.” Mapi grumbled, again poking your face as your eyes started to scrunch together. You looked uncomfortable, and Mapi braced herself for you to wake back up and freak out again. Instead, you stayed unconscious for a few more seconds, unbeknownst to the Spaniard, reliving a memory you’d… kind of forgotten. 

When the picture frame shattered on the wood floor, all you felt was panic. It was panic that led you to lean down and try to collect the pieces of glass in your hands. A second, much quieter crash was heard as a piece of glass shifted in your hand, cutting your finger open. 

You’d never been good with blood, and you felt yourself getting lightheaded at just the sight of the small rivulets of blood forming across the cut. You shut your eyes tightly, all thoughts of being afraid of getting in trouble for breaking the picture frame flew out of your mind, and you were turning and shouting before you could stop yourself. 

“Mamma! Mamma!” You yelled, growing dizzier and dizzier. 

“Stop yelling, my goodness.” Mamma said, walking calmly into the room. She came to a sudden stop at the sight of the picture frame broken in front of you, before her face grew cold and mean. “What have you done!” 

“I-I- I bumped the table and it fell and I tried to clean it up, but my finger, Mamma,” you cried, missing the anger on your moms face and leaning towards her for comfort as she moved closer. 

“This is my favorite picture of your sister, couldn't you have been more careful! You are always breaking things, always making a mess. I am so tired of you and the stupid things you do when you don’t pay attention.” Mamma ranted, picking up the pieces of glass and making sure the picture was unharmed. “I should be the one crying, you broke my picture frame!” 

Your stomach twisted at her tone, and at the drops of blood that were hitting the floor at your feet. You tried to fight it, knowing it would only make her more upset, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Keeling over, you threw up on the ground, whimpering as your mother gasped in surprise. 

“What-”

“Mamma, my finger,” you sobbed, holding out the bloodied appendage towards your mother. 

Some of the confusion left your Mamma’s eyes, knowing just how poorly you handled any kind of injury, on anyone. 

“Oh, goodness. Come with me.” She said, not completely unkindly as she led you into the kitchen. There, she wrapped your finger up with a dish towel, holding pressure on it as you sniffled and hiccuped. She brushed a few flyaways out of your face, your hair always coming loose no matter how tight Ingrid braided it. 

At the kind gesture, you relaxed a bit. Maybe she wasn’t as mad anymore. Cautiously, you allowed yourself to step in closer to her. “Hurts, Mamma.” 

Some emotion, of what you weren’t sure, flashed across the older woman’s face and she sighed. “You’ll be fine. It is just a little cut. It is just a little blood, kjære. You are 8 years old. And 8 years old is too big to be getting this worked up over a small cut.” 

“Sorry, Mamma.” You mumbled, scrubbing at your eyes with your good hand. You took a few deep breaths, trying to stop crying even as pain burned through your finger, and all you wanted was a hug. 

“Alright, no more blood, see? Now go get a bandaid while I clean up your mess.” 

“Okay, Mamma.” 

She sent you off with a kiss on the top of your head, but as you climbed the stairs, you heard the garage door open. That meant Ingrid was home. You knew she’d had a long day, but you couldn’t help the way your body sagged in relief now that she was home. Now that you’d get a hug. 

That was, until you heard Mamma’s voice addressing your sister downstairs, as you rifled through the bandaid box, looking for a yellow one. 

“Look what your sister did.” Mamma sighed. She sounded so disappointed, and you promised yourself to do better. Next time, you wouldn’t throw up. And you would clean up the mess all by yourself. Then, Mamma would be proud of you. Then, maybe she’d give you a hug.

When you came to, Mapi’s face was hovering ridiculously close to yours, and you jolted away from her. 

“Sol! You’re awake!” 

You tried to sit up, just as Ingrid’s voice rang from across the room. “Do not let her sit up yet, she’ll only make herself more dizzy.” 

Mapi’s hands pushed your shoulders back to the ground and you frowned, seeing Ingrid appear above you holding the broom. 

“No, Ingrid, I’ll clean it up,” you said weakly, even as your stomach turned at the sight of a bloody rag in your sister’s hand. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Ingrid dismissed. “You stay right there until you feel better.” 

Ingrid cleaned up the ceramic shards, and you wondered just how upset she’d be that you’d broken the mug. It was her and Mapi’s favorite. They had made it together in some pottery class, and they often fought over who got to use it in the morning for coffee. And you’d gone and broken it. Ingrid didn’t seem mad yet, but she would be… right?

 After a few minutes of Mapi gently combing through your hair, she finally helped you sit up. Your sister appeared in front of you once again, first aid kit in hand, and sat down on the ground.  She moved slowly as she reached for your hand, trying not to startle you. You held it out to her, leaning against Mapi and inhaling shakily. 

“I looked when you were out, I don’t think you need stitches.” Your sister assured you, pausing when you only gave a short nod. “You okay? Do you feel sick?” 

You shook your head firmly, clenching your jaw shut tight. Ingrid still didn’t unwrap the towel from your palm, still focused on the uneven way you were breathing, and the slightly green tint to your face.  

Mapi rubbed her hand up and down your back comfortingly, exchanging a look with your sister. “It’s okay if you feel sick, Sol. Just tell me and we can get you a bag or something.”

“No. I’m fine. I don’t get sick when I see blood anymore.” You said, sounding almost angry. 

Since when? Ingrid thought. Still, she got to work disinfecting your hand and cleaning it up. Once she’d wrapped a large bandage around it, having tried her best to ignore the way your good hand was clenched into a fist so tight it looked painful. 

Once your sister was done, she helped you to your feet, holding her arms open for a hug. You looked between her and Mapi suspiciously, a frown set on your face. “You’re… not mad?” 

“Why would we be mad?” Ingrid wondered, leading you into the living room, having decided to make you rest on the sofa for a while until you looked less ill. 

You followed her lead, albeit still sounding very confused. “Because… I made a mess. And I didn’t clean it up. And I broke your favorite mug.” 

Ingrid couldn’t figure out what you were so worked up about. “It wasn’t on purpose, Sol. And you were hurt, why would you clean it up?” 

“I should have been more careful. And it was my mess. I should have… I should have cleaned it up.” 

It sounded like you were trying to convince yourself of something, a somewhat vacant expression on your face. Ingrid had the familiar sinking feeling in her stomach. It was the one that appeared whenever your sister discovered another piece of the puzzle; the puzzle of why you were the way you were, why you’d left Norway. Most of the time, the pieces were intrinsically linked to your mother. And Ingrid really hated that. 

So, she wasn’t quite sure what the specific issue in this situation was. But she knew you well enough to know what would make you feel better. Taking a seat on the couch next to you, your sister brought you into a tight hug, feeling the way you froze at first, before melting into her. 

“I don’t care about the mess.” She promised, before she leaned back, her expression contradicting her words slightly as she took in the blood on your shirt. 

You smiled weakly at her, not quite sure you believed her words. “I’ll go change-”

“No!” Ingrid interrupted. “I’ll go get you a new shirt, yeah? You just stay here.”  

With that, your sister took off up the stairs, and you were left in deep thought on the couch. Mapi took Ingrid’s spot pretty quickly, handing you a glass of water to sip from as she studied your expression. 

Mapi nudged you with her knee. “What are you thinking about?” 

“I broke a picture frame once. It was of Ingrid and Mamma, and the picture was completely fine but the glass broke and I cut my finger on it. But my mom was really mad about the mess. She said she was tired of me and the messes I made. I just… thought you’d be upset. It was your guys’ favorite mug. I thought you’d be mad.” 

Understanding dawned across Mapi’s face and she scooted closer, until her shoulder pressed to yours. “I don’t care about the mug. And neither does your sister. We’re both just glad you’re okay, that’s all we care about.” 

“Really?” You asked in a small voice. 

“Sol, you could break everything in this house, crash my motorbike, and ruin my favorite sweatshirt. And I’d still want you here. I’d still love you, nena.” Mapi assured you, not a single trace of doubt detectable in her voice. 

You looked away from her, the eye contact combined with her words proving to be too much. “I love you too.” You choked out, still looking away from Mapi, but leaning closer into her. She wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“How could you not? I am the best.” Mapi said seriously. 

And then the tears in your eyes were forgotten as you laughed, always shocked at Mapi’s ability to take your mind off something emotional. Always shocked, but always so grateful. 

When Ingrid reentered the room with one of her shirts in hand, it was to find you and María in absolute hysterics on the couch, your hand and whatever had upset you so greatly before completely forgotten. 

She’d thought she loved Mapi as much as a person could love another person, before you’d arrived in Spain. And then she’d picked you up from the airport, a shell of yourself, angry and hostile. And she’d watched Mapi chip away at all the anger and all the sadness. She’d watched as you became you again, with Mapi’s help.

Ingrid wasn’t stupid. She knew she’d helped you, too. But you were her sister. Mapi had no obligation to you, yet… here she was. 

And Ingrid realized that her love for María Pilar León Cebrián had grown exponentially in the past few months. Because she’d gotten to see Mapi grow to love you. Her favorite person in the world. It was so much love, she thought some days that her heart might burst.  

Ingrid hated the process of getting you here, and of everything that had happened for you that had been so incredibly difficult. But she couldn’t pretend she didn’t love the family she got as a result. 

------

hahahaHAHAHA IM FINE im FINE

i love sol.

ps. please tell me if you see any typos okay goodnight

[afterglowkatie]

no one but you | k.c.c.

kyra cooney-cross x reader | 4k | you and kyra finally confess your feelings for each other

ˏˋ°•*⁀ this is part of the pair of pests universe. you can thank my sudden lack of desire to sleep lately, definitely not posting this at almost 3am, and to focus solely on getting my energy out through writing to have this part now and for how long it is! please let me know what you think! hope you enjoy it! :)

Leah carefully slipped out from underneath you, careful not to wake you up just yet. She ended up staying the night, not feeling comfortable leaving you in the state that you had found yourself in. The mix of the alcohol and mental exhaustion had you passing out fairly quickly and easily once Leah had gotten you into comfy clothes and settled down into bed.

She had thought about sleeping on the couch but she knew that you needed more than just a presence in the house. You needed to feel safe and holding you while you slept seemed to ease her worries about you a little bit as well as make you more comfortable and content to ignore your thoughts and let yourself sleep.

Leah knew you were in no state last night to talk about anything but she knew she would have to bring it up today. You caught her off guard but she held nothing against you and your actions. The rare moment you let down your walls, Leah could see a world of pain hiding behind your eyes. 

All of the thoughts and feelings you had pushed away to deal with at a later time had caught up with you, not being able to hold it all in any longer. You were, in a way, glad that it happened with Leah of all people and not someone random and glad it didn’t happen with Kyra in that way. 

Leah opened your bedroom door, instantly being met with a smell coming from the kitchen that made her own stomach grumble. Steph had come home not that long after Leah had taken you back to the apartment. After you left, Kyra didn’t stick around and then the rest of the girls started to make their way back to their own homes. 

‘Oh, morning Leah,’ Steph eyed Leah quizzically, noticing that she was in the same clothes she had worn last night, ‘I didn’t know you stayed, there’s enough here for you as well,’ Steph got out another plate and sorted out breakfast for the three of you.

‘Yeah,’ Leah breathed out slightly while grabbing a cup to get some water for you knowing that you would definitely be needing it this morning. Leah didn’t want to tell Steph about the kiss last night, especially not without talking to you about it first, ‘Just wanted to make sure she was okay, put a movie on, it was late,’ Leah trailed off, mumbling an excuse so Steph didn’t get the wrong idea while not giving away what exactly happened.

‘Leah, chill,’ Steph laughed, amused at the rambling, ‘It’s obvious nothing happened, I’ve never seen you look at her that way. Even last night while dancing I noticed you still tried to keep a slight distance between you both,’ Leah let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, thankful she wasn’t on the end of a different kind of conversation, ‘Plus if anyone, even you, tried anything on her when she was that drunk would have a death wish by me,’

‘She’s in safe hands with me,’ Leah was genuine, she had known you for as long as she’d known Steph, you were a good friend to Leah.

‘I know,’ Steph smiled at Leah, ‘By the way, how is she?’ The one question Leah didn’t want to be asked right now. She really didn’t know how to answer. You weren’t okay, that much was clear, but she didn’t want to worry your sister just yet.

‘I’m going to talk to her,’ Leah half smiled and Steph nodded in understanding, not pushing anything further. Steph had planned on talking to you but she would leave it up to Leah, fully trusting her and trusting that if need be either you or Leah would go to Steph, ‘I’ll come grab the plates once she’s woken up,’ Steph put two of the plates in the oven to keep them warm.

Leah made her way back to your room, smiling when she saw Calvin sitting at your bedroom door softly whining wanting to be let in. You normally slept with your door slightly open so Calvin could come and go as he wanted. Apart from Kyra, Calvin was your favourite cuddle buddy, ‘She’s going to need all your love, you think you can do that?’ Leah ran her hand over the top of his head while Calvin looked up at her wagging his tail knowing she was going to open the door soon enough.

‘Mornin’ Calvy,’ You groaned, waking up to the weight of the dog jumping on top of you accompanied by the slobber he was leaving on your face. Though his presence made you smile and you gave him the biggest hug you could manage having still only just woken up.

Though your bubble that existed of just you and Calvin burst when you noticed Leah’s figure still standing in the doorway moving to close the door behind her. Your face heated up remembering about the kiss from last night. You hid your head under your pillow, groaning and wishing that you could suddenly disappear from the inevitable conversation you were about to have with Leah.

‘C’mon you don’t have to hide from me,’ Leah’s voice was softer than usual, setting the water down on the side table. Sitting down on the bed next to you, Leah gently lifted the pillow off your head, a small reassuring smile from Leah that contrasted the frown your own lips were making, ‘There you are,’ 

You rolled your eyes, moving your body to sit up against the headboard, hugging your pillow close while Calvin curled up at the end, laying on your feet. You sighed, putting your head into your hands, ‘I’m sorry, Leah,’ You mumbled into the pillow, Leah only just catching exactly what you had said.

‘You don’t have to apologise,’ Leah started off, her hand resting gently on your back, her touch grounding you from the thoughts that were starting to swirl around your head again, ‘Just talk to me, what’s going on up there?’

You sighed softly, moving so you were sitting cross legged and facing Leah. Nervously you were chewing on your bottom lip, not knowing where to start. Wondering if you should address the kiss or just blurt out your newly realised feelings for your best friend. You started fidgeting with your fingers, looking down before deciding on how you were going to approach or put into words how you were feeling.

‘I like Kyra,’ You mumbled. It felt different actually saying it from just thinking it. It both overwhelmed you and felt like a weight was being lifted from your shoulders. You could actually say it, but then when you said it that’s when it felt even more real. The realness of it all is what overwhelmed you. You still thought that Kyra liked someone that wasn’t you. Maybe if you talked about your feelings it’ll be easier for you to get over them and carry on as if you didn’t like your best friend.

‘Hate to break it to you but I’m not Kyra,’ Leah smirked, your face tinting a slight pink when you realised she was referring to the kiss last night. Not that you would tell Leah, but when you kissed her you were only thinking of Kyra. 

‘Oh shut up,’ You threw the pillow at Leah, smiling and laughing a little, ‘Just forget about it,’ You shook your head, hiding again back in the comfort of your hands.

‘Not a chance. I’ll keep it between us for now though,’ You didn’t expect Leah to go tell everyone about it but relief flooded your body at her words, instantly relaxing back into the bed, ‘You’ve got soft lips by the way, Kyra will be lucky when she gets the chance to feel them,’ 

‘God you’re so annoying,’ You rolled your eyes, pushing Leah’s arm slightly, ‘I think she likes someone else anyway,’ Leah watched you deflate, your smile dropping off your face, moving to pull you into her side, rubbing your side gently.

‘Are you serious?’ Leah’s eyebrows raised while she looked down at you. You returned her gaze but confusion was visible on your face, ‘Have you not seen the way Kyra looks at you? That girl really likes you, it’s so obvious,’ Leah’s words got into your head. You started thinking back through your previous recent interactions with Kyra. You didn’t want to overthink or read into things too much, but there could be a chance that everything wasn’t as friendly as you thought it to be.

You didn’t know what to think though. Everything was still so confusing for you and you felt your head start to spin again with all the what ifs. You didn’t want to ruin anything you had with Kyra, but you knew you couldn’t keep going on only just being her friend. Even if you could magically wake up one day and all your romantic feelings towards Kyra would be gone, there’s a part of you that wouldn’t even want that. You love and hate the way you feel for her. 

‘I don’t know, Le,’ You sighed, laying your head on Leah’s shoulder, running your hand over your face.

‘I think you just need to talk to her. I know it’s scary but it’s what’s best for the both of you. I’m not letting you run off and try to get a transfer just because you don’t want to face this,’ It was like Leah could read your mind. Not liking that she knows you well enough to know that you’d rather run from your problems than face them head on, ‘I’ll always support you. You have me, Steph and all your teammates both club and country to lean on. We’ve all got you, no matter what,’ 

Leah always had a way with her words, knowing what to say to make you feel better. You knew you had people who would listen and support you, but you hate leaning on others and feeling like you’re burdening them when they have their own life to deal with. But you know, in the back of your mind, that you need to learn to not try to deal with things on your own, it would make your life a lot easier to accept the support that’s given to you, ‘Thank you, Le,’ 

A few days had passed by and neither you or Kyra reached out to each other. Even though the both of you went to send a message or call the other, you both would delete the text or lock your phone and throw it away before actually doing it. You knew that you had to talk to her before the next training day or there would be more questions as to why you and Kyra weren’t glued to each other.

You were scared to have a serious conversation with her, one that you didn’t know how it would go. Not being able to control the situation made you nervous, so you held back on reaching out to Kyra until the very last possible day to do so. Kyra on the other hand still couldn’t figure out what she had done wrong. Still thinking about the other night and how you hadn’t even gone up to her. 

Granted you weren’t completely to blame, she knows she could’ve gone up to you. But it felt like you were purposely avoiding her and she didn’t like that. Those few days where Kyra didn’t hear a single thing from you or about you were the worst for her. She spent many hours each day picking up her phone, going in and out of your contact, drafting multiple messages just to delete them. Thinking that if you wanted to hear from her you would’ve reached out by now.

But the thing that worried Kyra was that there was no trace of you anywhere online, she checked your socials multiple times each day. You were normally quite active when you had time to yourself. If not posting anything, you would be stalking the fans and leaving comments here and there on your fans posts on tiktok and instagram. 

There was nothing though. Even the fans had started talking online, some thinking your silence was concerning and others thinking you were finally having some time to yourself and telling others to stop their theories and rumours.

There was training tomorrow and if Kyra didn’t hear from you today then she would wait to see you in person tomorrow. Though it was hard to be away from you. Kyra wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up in you watching movies and laughing just like it used to be. 

What Kyra didn’t expect that day was to hear knocking at her front door. She frowned, not expecting anyone and thinking it was one of her neighbours or some sort of emergency. Her eyes went wide and a small smile ghosted her lips when she saw you standing at her front door. She frowned a little seeing you had Calvin with you, knowing that you didn’t live that close to each other. Kyra knew something was wrong, you only ever walked for a long time if you needed to clear your mind.

‘Hi Ky,’ A small smile on your lips, your voice was soft. Kyra relaxed hearing your voice, it had been days since she heard it. Doing her best to not wrap her arms around you and pull you into a hug, she stayed fidgeting with the door handle, ‘Steph and Dean are out tonight. Did you want to come help me pet sit this little guy here? We can have a movie night?’ You leaned down, patting Calvin’s head, smiling down at him, your voice was still quite soft and there was a hint of hesitation in your voice. 

‘I would never say no to a night with you and little Calvy. My two favourites,’ You relaxed when Kyra agreed to come over. You knew she at least wasn’t that upset with you, even if you hadn’t talked to her in a few days and completely ignored her at the night out. 

‘I won’t tell Harper that we’re your favourites and not her,’ You joked, laughing  a little, causing Kyra to smile more. She missed you so much, not realising just how much until you were in front of her again. Your laugh sending a swarm of butterflies into her stomach, you noticed the way she was looking at you. You closed the gap and pulled her in, hugging her as best you could while still holding Calvin’s leash. 

Kyra melted into your embrace, not wanting to let you go. The two of you stood there, arms around each other, neither of you wanting to let go of the other. Only pulling apart when Calvin started to whine and pull on the leash to get your attention.

Kyra offered to drive you all back to Steph’s apartment, you were grateful since you had used all the energy you had left to walk to Kyra’s in the first place. The two of you settled into a routine as if you hadn’t been apart from each other, as if nothing from the previous week had happened. You were both awfully good at pretending and awfully good at secretly, not so secretly, pining for the other.

The night had been going just like it normally would when you and Kyra would hang out together. You’d put on a movie, ordered some takeout, and now you were cuddling together on the couch. Kyra’s arm wrapped around you keeping you nestled against her side, your legs were on top of hers and your head laid against her shoulder. 

The only difference was about halfway through the movie you started to fidget with your fingers. In the back of your mind you knew you had to talk to Kyra about how you felt. You wanted to push it back again, especially since you both seemed to be acting like normal again. 

Kyra was anything but normal when you were so close to her like this. Her heart was racing and if your head was pressed against her chest instead of her shoulder you definitely would’ve been able to hear it. Kyra noticed your fidgeting and gave you her hand so you could play with her fingers instead.

You weren’t paying any attention to the movie now. Instead focusing on how Kyra’s hand felt in yours, how her fingers were so soft and how you liked having her hand in yours. Things you wouldn’t have thought twice about, were all you could think about since you realised and accepted your feelings for Kyra.

‘Are you okay?’ Kyra’s voice was full of concern, whispering in your ear. Her breath on you made a slight shiver run down your spin and your breath hitch slightly. You took a moment before answering.

‘I’m sorry for the other night. I didn’t mean to act the way I did, I don’t even know why I did,’ A small lie but Kyra wouldn’t know that, you knew exactly why you acted the way you did but you didn’t want to lead straight into it, ‘I’m just sorry, you didn’t deserve that,’ You weren’t the best at apologising, never knowing exactly what to say but you looked up at Kyra and she could see in your eyes that you meant every word, even the ones you didn’t say but she could see.

‘It’s okay. I was really looking forward to spending that night with you. But it’s really okay, there’ll be other nights anyway,’ Kyra shrugged a little. You had hurt her with how you acted towards her, but she could’ve come to you earlier to sort things out. She had you back right now and she really just wanted to move on, ‘Plus I prefer this, getting to spend time with just you and no one else around,’ You looked down at your fingers entwined with hers not wanting Kyra to see how your face flushed a little at her words.

You sat up a little and turned more on your side so you were looking at her, ‘So, do you like her?’ Your face was full of questioning, your voice was quiet not wanting to be crushed by Kyra’s response. 

‘Who?’ Kyra looked at you, slight confusion on her face, wondering who you could be talking about. Apart from this week when you were both not talking to each other, she only ever spent time with you. Charli had been teasing Kyra lately for never spending time with anyone else but you.

‘Lia. The night we all went out, you guys seemed quite close,’ Kyra’s smile dropped a little and she looked down at the two of you. The way you were cuddling, thinking about how she’d follow you around wanting to be as close as possible to you, Kyra wanted to cry out in frustration how you couldn’t see that she liked you. Not understanding how you couldn’t see that but you could see and think she would like anyone else that wasn’t you.

‘No, we’re just friends. You know she’s been helping me a lot since I joined Arsenal,’ Kyra had paused the movie now, not wanting any other distractions right now, ‘If we’re talking about the other night, then what about you and Leah? All over her on the dance floor and I saw the two of you leave together,’ 

‘I just wanted to dance,’ You shrugged off Kyra’s comment and ignored the last part. Not wanting to bring up how you kissed Leah, that would definitely ruin you telling Kyra that you liked her. Not wanting to bring up how Leah helped you accept your feelings for Kyra and helped you believe that Kyra could like you back, not letting you run from your feelings.

‘You could’ve danced with me,’ Kyra was quick with her words, making you look back up at her, ‘I always love dancing with you,’ It was now Kyra’s turn to be the one fidgeting with your fingers. A small smile took over your lips, you missed the way Kyra glanced down at your lips before back up to your eyes. The best memories you had always involved you and Kyra dancing around together.

The times you’d dance around your bedroom, sometimes the only music would be whatever you decided to sing or noises you wanted to make and Kyra would go along with it. The times you’d be out and you’d end your nights dancing with each other, the music and Kyra being only things existing to you in those moments. The times you’d be cooking for the two of you and Kyra would put on a song and whisk you away to dance around the kitchen together, you’d burnt a lot of food being wrapped up in each other. 

You probably should’ve realised earlier how you felt for her, and realised how she felt for you. If anyone was to ever witness those moments where it was just you and Kyra alone together, they would’ve thought you were actually together and more than just best friends.

‘So you don’t like Lia and you don’t have a crush on anyone,’ Your voice trailed off towards the end. Hoping that Kyra would talk and prove your accusation wrong. Hoping that she would say she liked you before you admitted to liking her first.

‘Well, I never said that I didn’t have a crush on anyone,’ Kyra smirked, leaning further back into the couch. This caught your interest. Kyra didn’t seem to have any attention to continue on and give away just who her crush was. You knew if you had a chance to potentially get the information you wanted out of her, then you were going to have to prompt her.

‘What are they like? Is it another footballer?’ You twisted your body a bit more, you were practically half on top of Kyra at this point. Leaning a bit closer towards Kyra, you had your hopes up, but not too much just in case you were wrong about this and you still wanted to protect yourself from being crushed if you were wrong. 

‘Well, she’s just the sweetest person I’ve ever met. Her smile lights up the room and whenever I hear her name announced at matches and the way she interacts with fans, it makes me smile,’ Kyra sighed a little bit, her face heating up a little and heart racing a bit faster knowing that she was about to tell you in her own way that it was you, ‘She just understands me in a way that no one else does. She’s my best friend and I love spending so much time with her,’ 

Kyra was smiling softly at you, her hand had reached up now cupping your cheek, her thumb rubbing along your soft skin gently. In this moment, it was just you and her, nothing else mattered, ‘Ky,’ You breathed out shakily, smiling softly at Kyra. You leaned into her touch, your eyes drifting down towards her lips. 

The action didn’t go unnoticed by Kyra. Her hand on your cheek drifted down to your jaw, her touch more firm than before but still soft. Before either of you knew what was happening, you leaned in softly placing your lips on Kyra’s. Your breath hitched and you smiled into the kiss when you realised you had actually done it and not just in your mind.

You pressed your body against Kyra’s when you felt her kiss you back. Your lips against each other felt right, you longed for it and now you’ve had a taste you knew that you wouldn’t want to stop. After a few soft and slow kisses you reluctantly pulled away from Kyra, your face still just inches from hers. Her hand, now resting on the back of your neck, was playing with the little baby hairs at the base.

‘I really like you Kyra,’ You whispered, your breath hitting her lips with how close you were to each other still. You wanted to stay like this for as long as you could. Kyra made you feel safe, she felt like home.

‘I really like you too,’ You smiled wide, it felt like a dream that you were afraid to wake up from, ‘God, I really like you,’ Kyra held your head in her hands, emphasising her words by kissing you deeply.

[berberriescorner]

"Late Night Cravings"

Characters: Simon Riley x Black!Reader.

Summary: Missing your deployed husband, you get a late-night surprise that satisfies both your cravings and loneliness.

Warnings: Steaminess, a bit of angst, loneliness, fluff, mentions of phone sex with suggestive language and descriptions, mild swearing, and lighthearted humor. Oh, and if I hadn’t already made it clear at the top of my blog: minors DNI. My content is for the grown folks👏🏾.

Authors Note: Hello my lovelies🫶🏾! I've been toying with the idea of writing for the Simon Riley/Ghost fandom for a while now. Thanks to some awesome encouragement, I finally took the plunge! This story idea wouldn't leave me alone, so I decided to say, "What the hell," and give it a shot. I hope I captured Simon to the best of my ability. Please remember that this is my first attempt at a Ghost fic…and, well, “I’M JUST A GIRL!🥺🥹😩😆” Okay, a grown woman, but a girl nonetheless. I had a wonderful time writing this, and I hope you all enjoy reading it. Word Count: 1,700+.

Inspired By♥️🖤:

The clock ticked past midnight, the silence of the empty house amplifying the sound. In the dimly lit kitchen, the soft glow of the refrigerator illuminated your very pregnant features as you rested a hand on your swollen belly. You sighed, heart heavy with longing for the man you loved, miles away on some unknown continent, carrying out numerous dangerous missions.

You stood there, staring at the array of food in the fridge, a wave of emotions washing over you. Pregnancy hormones wreaked havoc on your mood, and tonight, you found yourself overwhelmed with sadness and longing for your husband, Simon.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you reached for the phone on the counter. Your fingers trembled with emotion. You needed him. His comforting presence, the sweet sound of his soothing voice to chase away the loneliness that threatened to consume you.

"Hey, love," Simon’s voice came through the phone, warm and comforting. His tone was deep and smooth like whiskey on a cold winter's night.

Your breath caught in your throat. Simon’s voice was a mixture of relief and longing washing over you. "Hi," you replied sheepishly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Everythin' alright, angel?" your husband asked, concern lacing his words.

You sniffled, wiping away a stray tear. "I... I just miss you, Si. And I'm so hungry, but nothing in the fridge sounds good."

Simon’s heart ached at the sound of your voice, at the thought of you being alone, in need of comfort. "I wish I could be there with you, angel. You know I miss you more than anythin’."

A sob escaped your lips, emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "I’m sorry, Si. This is probably the last thing you need to deal with right now. I just wish you were home... I need you here. I need you to hold me. To eat junk food with me in the middle of the night. It’s weird not having you with me throughout this pregnancy. I got so used to you being around the first time. It never mattered how late it was. Whatever I craved, you either got up to fetch or prepare it. I miss eating with you. For goodness' sake, I probably sound like a blubbering cow. God I know I sound selfish. I’m sorry, Si."

“That’ll be enough nonsense. No more name-callin’. Eat all you want, beautiful. Vent all you want. ‘S no bother, love. Truly it isn’t.”

A flicker of determination sparked in Simon’s eyes as he listened to your words. "I may not be able to be there in person, but I can still make sure you're taken care of. Give me about ten to twenty minutes, love. I need to sort something out."

You pouted and whispered your agreement as Simon rushed you off the phone, still unsure of how to satisfy your cravings. You plucked a bottled water from the fridge.  You waddled toward the living room. Your smile lit up the room as you noticed a pregnancy pillow on the couch. Simon had scattered them throughout the house before leaving. He wanted you to find comfort in any room while he was away.

Your fingers hovered over the remote, drawn instead to the flashing screen announcing Simon’s incoming call.“Babe, that was quick. I’m excited it’s a video call. I miss your f—” Your words came to a pause. He was no longer among his comrades. Your husband had whisked away to his sleeping quarters, all gear removed aside from his balaclava. Some would find it terrifying, but Simon knew that in the depths of your deviant little mind, you found it sexy, arousing even. The shirt and pants he wore underneath were deliciously form-fitting. He watched as your eyes roamed over his biceps. Though you couldn’t see, you were certain there was a sexy smirk underneath his balaclava.

“Eyes up here, angel,” he commanded, voice smoky and sensual.

“Damn it, Si. Now I’m craving both food and you. You cheeky bastard. Did I mention I miss your sexy ass,” you questioned in a teasing manner.

Simon leaned in closer to the screen, giving you a devilish wink. “Miss you more, angel. If you can stay up late for me tonight, I may have time to call you and render some special sleep aid,” he offered, voice smoldering with desire.

“Can’t we do that now?” you whined, mouth forming a slight pout.

“Not now, love. There are more important matters to handle first. I’m afraid my work isn’t done for the night. Can you be patient for me?”

“Yes, but—”

“Atta girl,” he husked, aware of what those two words would do to you. 

You tried making a convincing argument, but a knock at the front door interrupted the conversation.

Confusion clouded your thoughts as you heard the sound of the doorbell ringing in the background. Stunned, you made your way to the front door, heart racing with anticipation.

Who on earth could be at my door at this hour?

“Um, Si. Baby, there’s—”

“I know. ‘S alright, love. Answer it.”

As you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of a delivery bag from McDonald's sitting on the doorstep. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you realized what your husband had done.

"Si, you didn't have to..." you began, your voice filled with gratitude.

"Just open it, love," he interrupted, his voice warm and reassuring.

With watery eyes, you opened the bag to reveal an array of your favorite foods: chicken nuggets, a fish filet, fries, and a vanilla milkshake. Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized the lengths he had gone to make you feel loved and cared for, even from miles away. Simon understood that as a grown-ass woman. You could’ve ordered the food, but he knew it was more about the gesture and putting your mind at ease that mattered most.

"Thank you, baby," you whispered, love overflowing for the man who had stolen your heart many moons ago.

On the other end of the line, Simon smiled, his heart swelling with love for his wife. "Anything for you, angel. Now, let's eat together."

You giggled as his hand waved over an assortment of goodies you had sent in a care package.

“Baby, don’t you have any real food? Anything other than snacks?” you questioned, worried he wasn’t eating enough.

“Johnny’s on kitchen duty tonight. Not takin’ any chances. Eat up, love. Tell me about your day. Is the lil’ lad holdin’ down the fort? Papa left him in charge. And the littlest lad you’re growing? Is he still kickin’ you all night? He’ll be a ball of energy once he’s on the outside. You jus’ wait and see.”

As the two of you sat on the video call, sharing a meal, bonding over the love for your children. You felt closer than ever before. Distance may have kept you apart, but with a little FaceTime, all was right in the world.

After thirty minutes of conversation, the time came and Simon had to go. 

“Duty calls, angel,” he gruffed, slightly annoyed.

“Go fuck some shit up, baby.”

Though your words were encouraging and playful, Simon saw the worry in your eyes. He did his best to put you at ease. Your husband playfully tapped the skull emblem on his mask. “Always a step ahead. Consider it done, love.” You offered a weak smile and chewed your lip nervously. Almost scared to end the call. Underneath the balaclava, his smirk disappeared. Your reservations could be felt even through the screen. Simon’s eyes darted around for a second before lifting his mask briefly. Your eyes connected as the usually stoic man offered you his most sincere attempt to ease your worried mind. Ashamed of him picking up on your innermost thoughts of panic, you broke eye contact. “Look at me, angel.”  The beautiful shade of your orbs landed on his once more. “It’ll be alright, love. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be careful. Get some rest, and do your best to answer later tonight.”

“Jesus. You always know just what to say, and do you have to be so damn sexy when saying it? I just want to eat you.”

Simon dropped his mask back into place, voice lowered. With a hint of a growl, he responded, “Be sure to get that rest while I’m working, love. You’ll need the energy. I don’t care what time it is. When I get back. I want you pickin’ up on the first ring. Have that camera angle ready. ‘M going to watch you ride my pillow until you’re a shakin’, soppin’ wet, messy puddle. You’ll beg me to come. The filth that falls from my lips will be like music to your ears. I’m going to take you apart piece by piece with my words. Just to put you back together and do it all over again. You’ll be chanting the words ‘I can’t. No more, Si.’ How’s that sound, love?”

“Can you leave already? The quicker you depart, the faster you return,” you panted. “Fuck, Si. I’m so achy for you.”

“There will be no playing while I’m gone. Understood,” he asked, voice gravelly.

“Yes,” you purred.

“Yes, what,” he demanded.

“Yes, sir,” you moaned softly.

“Good girl. I have to go now, angel.”

“LT, wheels up in ten,” Johnny shouted from the doorway.”

“ I heard you the first time, MacTavish. Give me a fuckin’ minute.”

“Simon! Be nice,” you bristled.

Your husband turned back to the screen. He rolled his eyes as Johnny leaned in to meddle.

“Hello, dove. When are you going to leave this grumpy bastard for me,” Johnny questioned.

You started to reply with a teasing answer, but Simon cut you off with an irritated grunt.

“Gotta go, angel.”

“Okay, baby. You take care of my man, MacTavish.”

You giggled at Simon threatening Johnny while ending the call.

“MacTavish, flirt with the missus again.” Instead of ending his statement using words, Simon stared Soap down with a cold, emotionless gaze. His head tilted to the now black screen, and his hand moved to rest on one of his now re-holstered weapons. Johnny smirked, slapping a hand on Simon’s back. “That little lady’s got you head over heels LT.” Simon made no argument, just offered a grunt of agreement.

What did you think, my lovelies? Let me know in the comments! And if you enjoyed it, don't forget to reblog and share the love!

Divider: @firefly-graphics

Wasn’t sure who to tag😩…

Tagging a few of my love bugs💓:

@darqchilddaydreamz @thirtysomethinganduncensored @percosim @astoldbychae @theeblackmedusa @johnnyshoe @thabiddie23 @starrynite7114

…

Inner workings of my mind:

*thirty minutes after posting it-> “they hate it!”*

*takes deep breath. must fight the urge to delete it.*

😆😂🤣.

[minswriting]

please please please taking care of aaron after a hard day of work? i know that mf would be so stressed out and he just deserves the best soul sucking head. maybe cock-worship + some whimpers? ❤️

stopping all drafts to answer this because it’s an absolute fucking need

nsfw | mdni | aaron hotchner x reader | oral (m)

being head of the bau was not easy whatsoever for aaron and you knew that. so when he had gotten home from a week long case looking absolutely stressed out, you had taken it upon yourself to sit him down on the couch as you got onto your knees. “hi,” you murmured, looking up at aaron with gorgeous eyes.

“well hello,” he murmured back, giving you a tired smile. he brought a hand to your hair, tucking a piece behind your ear. “what’s this about?” he asked.

you smiled back, rubbing your hands on aaron thighs. “you look so stressed,” you replied. “it’s time for me to take care of you.”

that sentence alone led to you giving the best head of your life.

you began by teasing the tip of his cock, using your tongue to play with it. aaron let out a small moan, his hand instinctively intertwining with your hair. and after a few moments, your lips wrapped around his cock, slowly taking him into your mouth.

“you always look so beautiful taking my cock,” aaron exclaimed, licking his lips as he looked down at you with adoring and dark eyes. “you’re so good to me.”

you let out a small hum, sending vibration down aaron’s cock. he bucked his hips, unable to help himself. and you began moving your mouth up and down his length, hollowing your cheeks to add to the pleasure. each time you came up, you swirled your tongue around the tip.

aaron threw this head back in pleasure, closing his eyes. he gently tugged at your hair, letting out small whimpers. your mouth was so warm and wet on his length, he couldn’t help but gently thrust his hips with each of your movements.

“fuck,” he moaned. “feels so good, princess.”

you brought your hand to the base of his cock, jerking off the bit of his cock that you couldn’t fit into your mouth. aaron gasped, his eyes rolling back as he took in the pleasure.

“oh my god,” he groaned. he usually wasn’t so vocal, always wanting to maintain a calm and controlled facade. but after such a long week, he could hardly care about that. he just wanted to take what you gave him. and boy were you glad to give.

you bobbed your head up and down rhythmically, your hand following your movements. you could tell that aaron was close as his cock stiffened in your mouth. “oh fuck,” aaron moaned. “gonna cum, baby, gonna cum.”

and after a few more movements, aaron gripped your hair with both hands, holding you down onto his cock as he shot his load down the back of your throat with the most toe curling, eye rolling orgasm he had ever had. you took all of it like a champ, swallowing every last drop.

when aaron finished, he relaxed against the couch, looking down at you with heavy-lidded but loving eyes, pulling out of your mouth. you looked so beautiful, you always do to him though. your hair was all over the place, your lips were wet from saliva and traces of his cum, and your eyes were teary as they always were after giving head. and aaron couldn’t help but be absolutely enamored by you. “thank you,” he said softly, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip.

“you don’t need to thank me,” you whispered back. “i’ve missed you.”

“and i’ve missed you.”

[subtlelovers]

Choso Kamo headcanons

Creator: Yall reblogs, likes, comments and suggestions are GREATLY appreciated!!!! I never knoow who to write these about so I just chose Geto, the nsfw is marked in red mdni

He loves to be babied, considering he always puts up the tough big brother act it's nice to be the one taken care of too.

He will carry your bags for you.

Loves hugging you against his chest, or him hugging your chest.

When going to bed he will practically want to be almost inside of you while cuddling. (not literally though)

With the one above mentioned I totally think his love language is physical touch.

He loves when you two have taken a shower or bath together and afterwards you blow dry his hair while fixing it for him or just in general if you brush his hair after a shower chefs kiss

He loves giving you forehead kisses. Or just kisses in general anywhere on your face, nose, chin, cheeks, lips, jawline so on.

If he sees you talking to someone else that is flirting with you and just obviously wants you, he will shoot them a deadly glare but afterwards he will pout and whine about it like he didn't just scare the person off.

HE LETS YOU DO MAKEUP ON HIM 🙏

It doesen't stop just there, nono. He also lets you paint his nails and do skincare too, because of the babied thing as well as he just enjoys spending that time with you.

While physical touch is his love language I think he definetely is a sucker for quality time. Watching movies, picnic dates, making food together, anything he can do with you that brings a smile to your faces.

It's no suprise he loves his brothers, he always hangs out with them. At least often and if he likes you, which he does. He brings you along.

Whenever you two watch movies he will guess the plot and when you get mad at him for ruining the movie he will hug you and say sorry over and over again untill you forgive him, mostly sarcastically.

He comes off a bit guard dog-ish with the way he hovers over you. When you're in public you bet he has a hand on your lower back kind of steering you as you both walk, in a loving non controlling way

I am sorry but he is the type of guy to pull a push door, vise versa.

He gets annoyed at other people very easily but with you it's like he is immune.

NSFW MDNI

I think fanon Choso is wrong, I fully belive he is top. Maybe he isn't super dominant but I can't imagine him being submissive.

This guy is LOUD in bed, he's not proud of it and I assure you he tries to supress it but can't.

Always talks sweet to you, reassures you and also asks things like "This 0kay?" "You comfortable?"

This guy I feel like really enjoys handjobs idk why but he especially likes taking your hand in his and guiding you to it but eventually he lets go and lets you finish the job iykyk

He always need validation after. "Was it good?"

He is definetely not into the whole "master" or "daddy" thing i think but I feel like he enjoys more subtle or even wholesome names like "Darling" or "Love"

I feel like he would kind of soothe himself in you gently and then get rougher as time went on.

I don't think he manhandles you a lot but it definetely happens every now and then, somehow he would still make it loving and gentle if that's possible.

Again like most jjk men in my opinion he is an eater.

who do I do next? Make sure you check out my Gojo and Geto ones too on my profile!

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

hello hello can i ask for reader (either new transfer or someone they're just consulting with) hellbent on avoiding and not talking to spencer bcs he keeps rambling off about stuff everytime they're in his vicinity but they just have a really bad history of men mansplaining things to them so even tho spencer doesn't give off that vibe they just can't help but be sensitive to it 😔🤲🏻

tweaked jussst a bit gn!reader. i need to work on making my brain bigger so i can give more detail for spencer.

“well there many ways one can create their own bomb. they could use proper chemical equipment or just simple house hold items you can buy from anywhere.”

“well actually there’s only four ways to create one and most people go the homemade route. which is the most difficult to trace due to them being bought in plain sight.” a tall, skinny agent beside a man in the well pressed suit just reiterated what you said. you took an exhale through your nose to withhold an eye roll.

“yes, what i said. sulfuric acid is a common ingredient so i’d look into people’s recent purchases and cross reference that with their past criminal history.” you moved around lab as you shuffled and stacked papers, “if you need anymore help seems you already have someone with the answers. good luck.” leaving the two federal agents behind as you exited into the hallway with a tiny chip sitting on your shoulder.

what was the reason to seek you out if they already had someone who’d know their answers? probably once they saw who you were they wanted to intimidate you, that one guy wanted to show off that he knew the same information as you. no one ever gave you the respect in this department, many ‘colleagues’ have taken credit for work that you’ve done. they always talk over you or explain a concept that you already knew, seeing as you were in the same field as said mansplainer.

“someone looks to be in a mood.” oh great, if your hour couldn’t get worse. you didn’t bother looking at dr. fray, he was said mansplainer that always thought he was more inept when really you have a higher standing than him.

“since you left those agents on their own i stepped up to help them by giving further detail into their investigation. just helped save some lives, no big dealio.” your periphery saw how he walked with a certain air about him, one that many men carry without a care in the world.

you rolled your eyes as you kept walking to your office, “whatever. they already have someone who knows this information so we weren’t needed anyway.” you pulled your keys from your coat pocket, “well it was not fun walking with you. off you go, fray.” shielding yourself by throwing the door in his face.

you wanted to be away from any type of male for the rest of the day, not wanting to hear their unnecessary chatter, they just like the sound of their own voice. neatly arranging your files on your desk and placing your coat over the back of your chair you were ready to finish some documents when there was a gentle knocking to your door. you weren’t expecting anyone for a meeting so when you were faced with the lanky agent from earlier you couldn’t help as your face shifted into one of annoyance before shifting into neutral.

“was there something you needed, dr. reid?” arms crossed defensively over your chest. you internally hated how he seemed to know almost everything know to man and he seemed to be about your age. you wanted to rip your hair out halfway through your bachelors degree.

dr. reid’s mouth was pressed into a tight line, his fingers twiddling with this satchel strap over his chest. “i- uh i overheard a bit of your- your conversation and just wanted to… apologize?” he ended with a question.

your brows quirked, “apologize? for what?” confused on what was happening. men rarely apologized to you, you’ve been ran down on the street by guys who don’t care about anyone else on the street.

“i didn’t mean to overstep earlier. i understand to an extent what it feels like for people to talk over you or just ignore what you’ve said.” your anger melted just a bit at his words, “and i know for you it’s harder. there’s statistically less then 0.05% of non white males in many fields. i can tell you worked hard to be in this position, so i apologize for earlier.” his mouth probably ran just a tad faster than his brain.

you dropped your defensive stance, hands to link at the bottom of your stomach as you gave dr. reid a friendly smile, the first of the day. “thank you, dr. reid. i appreciate that you recognized your actions and acknowledged my feelings.”

he rocked on his feet, “you can call me spencer.” he said shyly, “also i’ve read a couple of your thesis. and if you have the time when this is over i’d- i’d love to discuss them with you.” you noted how his cheeks started to tint into hues of pink, it was cute.

“would be nice to talk with someone that has a fully functioning brain. you know where to find me, spencer.”

[drvirgus]

hi! Do you still take requests? If so, can I request a haerin oneshot where fem!reader is a famous basketball player at their school and is known as a cold hearted person but no one knew that she is only soft towards haerin their school’s stuco president so seeing yn being so soft towards haerin shocked the whole school.

idk how the soft works but like yn kinda ignore or wouldn’t care about her surroundings/rumors but becomes a different person when it involves haerin? They are dating btw but no one knew until that very moment.

hopefully you like it :)

.............................................................................................................................

The Basketball Game

Stuco! Haerin X Basketball player! Reader

wc: 1.3k

One shot

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Annoyed, I looked at the person in front of me, who was holding the basketball in both hands and smiling at me. My brow furrowed. "Give me the ball," I said, almost disgusted. The woman in front of me now looked at me with slightly larger eyes as I simply stretched out my hand. My eyes narrowed a bit as I looked at the somewhat shorter woman.

My jaw tightened as I saw the unfamiliar woman glance at the ground. "But... I want to tell you something," the smaller woman said sadly, which made me immediately roll my eyes. My hands were now on my hips as I shifted my weight onto my right leg. "So? Speak then," I demanded, now even more annoyed.

The woman turned the ball in her hands while visibly hesitating and taking several deep breaths. My eyes narrowed even more as I briefly glanced at the large clock in the gym and then back at the unfamiliar woman. "Well, I... I've always looked at you- I wa-", the smaller one said, but she stopped when I simply raised my hand to interrupt her.

"I'm not interested in dates, and even if I were, you wouldn't even be my fifth choice," I said, visibly annoyed. "Now give me the ball," I hissed as I extended my hand once more. The woman, now starting to sob and cry loudly, placed the basketball in my outstretched hand.

Without giving her another glance, I dribbled the ball to the middle of the court. "Sorry for the interruption," I said as I threw the ball to one of my teammates. My team looked at me in disbelief, even my coach stared at me with his mouth open.

"What?" I asked, shrugging my shoulders. A hand now rested on my shoulder. "That was cold. Apologize," my captain said, which made my brow furrow. I tilted my head questioningly as I briefly looked at the unfamiliar woman who was crying loudly (probably on purpose) as she ran out of the gym.

I quickly looked back at my captain. "Nope," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "She shouldn't interrupt me during practice," I replied nonchalantly, which immediately made my captain sigh and let go of my shoulder. I got the ball in my hand once more and focused solely on training.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

With my all-too-familiar annoyed expression, I headed to my locker. My hair was still slightly damp from the shower I had just taken. I opened my locker and, of course, noticed the love letters, flowers, and gifts falling to the floor, but I skillfully ignored them.

I grabbed my books for the next few hours and closed my locker again. I stuffed the books into my backpack and kicked one of the gifts that were in my way to continue on my path.

Of course, I could hear the whispers; some were probably annoyed, turned on, or jealous of me because of my behavior. None of that concerned me in the slightest. To be honest, it even got on my nerves.

Just because I was on the basketball team and seen as a star, am I expected to date one of the cheerleaders? I could probably only get away with my behavior because I was a star and gave the school a certain reputation. This whole system was just messed up...

As so often, my legs carried me to the well-known room of the student council president. A smile formed on my face as I knocked briefly, opened the door to the student council room, and stepped right in. Haerin, my girlfriend, looked up briefly from her mountain of work and let out a sigh.

I quickly went to her desk and put my backpack on one of the chairs before taking her chair and pulling her out from behind her desk. I immediately sat down on her lap, resting my forehead on her shoulder. Haerin’s hands immediately wrapped around my waist.

“What’s wrong?” she asked after a short silence as one of her hands stroked my entire back. “You smell good,” I heard the person my age say as she took a deep breath. Her eyes were now closed, which made me smile a bit. I didn’t answer at first and just leaned into her even more.

“Practice was exhausting,” I murmured quietly as I sighed a bit. My face now turned against her neck, which made Haerin giggle a bit. Her hands were still on my back as she just continued to stroke me. “Do you mind if I keep working? I have to finish the club budget planning today,” Haerin asked in a calm voice.

A hum escaped me as I reluctantly shook my head. “Work,” I murmured against my girlfriend’s neck, which seemed to tickle her as she squeezed my face with her head. I smiled immediately as I felt Haerin pull us closer to her desk and take a pen in her hand.

“Remember 379 for me, please,” Haerin said, to which I nodded in agreement. The room filled with silence as I felt myself relaxing more and more. Luckily, we were completely alone here. I loved being alone with her…

Here, there were no eyes judging me, undressing me, or expecting something from me. Here, there were only Haerin’s eyes looking at me with full love, no matter what I did…

My eyes closed as I relaxed even more on my girlfriend. “What was the number again?” Haerin asked quietly as she rubbed her cheek against mine. I immediately smiled. “379,” I said softly, almost sleepily. I immediately received a short kiss on my cheek from my president.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sweat dripped down my temple and onto the gym floor. My eyes narrowed, and my brow furrowed as I focused intently on the game. One of my teammates helped me to my feet after an opponent tackled me, earning us a free throw.

"You’re worthless. You’re nothing!" the opponent taunted as I stepped to the line, bouncing the ball a few times on the floor. "No one would love you! You’re trash," he spat venomously, trying to throw me off. A grin spread across my face as I glanced briefly at Haerin, who was watching the game intently. I grinned even wider as I looked back at my opponent and made the shot without even looking at the basket.

The net swished, and the cheering in the gym grew even louder. My teammates immediately started shoving me in celebration, as that shot won us the game. It was close, but we won.

"You stupid bitch," I heard one of my opponents shout, and I saw him throw a basketball at me. I quickly ducked and dodged the ball with ease. "No wonder you lost if you can’t aim," I replied, grinning as I laughed mockingly.

"Oh no," I heard the all-too-familiar voice say, and I spun around instantly. My smile vanished, and I pushed past all the basketball players, panicking as I rushed to my girlfriend.

"Are you okay?!" I asked frantically, taking Haerin’s arms in my hands, my eyes immediately scanning her entire body. I didn’t even notice the stares of all the people around me. I couldn’t care less.

"I’m fine. But he has a nosebleed," she said, visibly surprised by my reaction. Her mouth slightly open, she pointed with her finger to the guy next to her, who was crouched on the floor with a nosebleed. I glanced at him briefly and then back at Haerin. "But you’re okay?" I asked once more.

Relieved, I sighed and nodded. "Come on, let’s go," I said simply, but Haerin shook her head. My brow furrowed in confusion. "I’ll take him to the nurse," Haerin said, standing up from the bleachers and holding out her hand to help the injured boy.

A shiver ran through my entire body. "It’s just a nosebleed," I murmured as I grabbed the boy’s wrist and pulled him to his feet. "Fucking weakling," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

Haerin snorted, shaking her head in amused disbelief as she followed me.

I could feel the eyes of everyone around us on me and Haerin, but I skillfully ignored them.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[artdcnaldson]

Ok so I’m coming around with the cheating fantasy (sorry im on the vanilla side) I gotta ask, how do you think the trio would snake back reader to their quad? The scenario is that at stanford reader had a relationship with the trio, broke up after a couple of years due to possessiveness, jealousy and borderline toxic behavior from all 4 of them. I can def see reader, after some years removed from them, a new boo and a ring on their finger, fall victim to Patrick first, him convincing reader to at least hear the trio out, the trio causing some chaos to readers engagement, all trying to get reader back to their fucked up little quad

GODDDDD I love the toxicity so badly fuck!!! I need more of this so fuck it. give me an au name we’re running this bad boy into the dirt if we have to

You run into Patrick at your second bar of your bachelorette bar crawl— with a short white dress and a little cheap tiara and veil and a sash that says Bride to Be in silver sparkles.

You choke down your shot when you notice him, eyes wide as you get fucking yanked into flashbacks of Patrick and Tashi and Art and all the shit you got into at Stanford. Good… and very bad.

You try to ignore him, but he’s not going to let that slide. He sidles up beside you at the bar, smiling wolfishly, like he wants to just eat you up.

He’s standing too close, leaning in so you can hear him over the loud music of the bar— his breath is warm and tickles your cheek as he tells you how good you look, that he’s missed you. His hand settles on your arm and he’s so warm.

“When’s the wedding?” He asks.

“25 days,” you reply. “At the botanical garden near his hometown.”

He thinks you sound a little dreamy about it, like it’s a fairytale. So he picks at it, needs to make it unravel. “Have you fucked?”

Your eyes go wide, you frown in annoyance, maybe a little bit of amusement, he thinks. “Patrick—“

He shrugs. “Well, I just remember how particular you were in college. Just want to make sure you’re marrying someone who knows how to take care of you.” Your mind unconsciously feeds you the memories in tiny flashes— how nice it had been to be their plaything, to be taken care of. Falling apart as Patrick’s cock bullied into you, or as Art buried him head between your thighs, or around Tashi’s fingers or strap.

Pillow princess. You had always been taken care of, at least sexually. They liked keeping their sweet girl satisfied in that way, even if the other areas could fall flat.

“Particular,” you echo. “You know most people have very fulfilling sex lives with just one partner.“

He grins, shrugs. “Well, you’re not most people.”

It pisses you off. And you’re losing the nice buzz you’d gotten from that first bar. You grab a stupid glowing shot off of a girl carrying a tray, throw it back with a huff.

“You don’t know anything about me, Patrick.” You meet his gaze, raise a brow.

“We dated for— what?— four years? I know plenty.” He pauses, leans closer. Impossibly closer. “I know how you act when you love someone, when you really love them in your fucked up way you do and not the bullshit romcom act you’re putting on for him. I know the kind of sounds you only take when you’re taking two cocks at once. Does your…” he trails off, looks at the stupid shirts your bridesmaids are wearing further down the bar. “Ben. Does Ben know that?”

You scoff, brush past him with hot annoyance in your belly. This is your fucking night— for fun and getting shitfaced with your friends before you get married and Ben doesn’t let you go out as much anymore. Before you have to carry his kids and lose yourself to a newer, boring version of yourself everyone would just call mom.

Whatever. Ben makes you happy. You don’t want to reach 30 and still be clinging to a toxic four way relationship from college. That would be clinical. You had been happy for three years away from them— you weren’t their girl anymore.

So why are you relieved when Patrick follows you into the alleyway between this bar and the one next door. When he pins your wrists above your head against the scratchy brick wall and tells you to stop him if you don’t want it.

“I don’t want it.” You say, weakly, while your lips instinctively seek out his. “I don’t… I don’t want it.”

“Don’t want what?” Don’t want this? Don’t want Ben? His lips brush against yours, teasingly, almost like it hadn’t even happened and you sigh.

“I just… I don’t—“ and you’re kissing him, messy and hungry and so fucking perfect. You’ve missed Patrick’s kisses— the intensity and need. Ben doesn’t kiss like that. Actually you can’t stand the way Ben kisses sometimes— like you’re already an old maid with no sexuality at all. Like he’s already planning the affair he’d have with his secretary in a few years.

Patrick’s hand slips between your thighs and you nearly sob with relief. He knows your body so well, he knows you so well. He makes you cum with no effort at all, gushing onto his fingers.

He tidies your sash, straightens your veil hairclip. He sucks his fingers between his lips, cleans them off. “Your bridesmaids are going to miss you,” Patrick says plainly. Testing you.

“Do you? Miss me, I mean. And I mean me, not… not that you miss fucking me.”

“We all miss you, baby. You know how crazy seeing your engagement photos made us? Fucking crushed us.” He kisses your forehead, so tenderly that your heart starts to stutter. You want to say something, but you don’t know what there really is to say. But Patrick gets it. He always does. “I hope Ben makes you really, really happy. You deserve better than just settling.”

You nod, but it’s all so confusing. Ben makes you happy, doesn’t he? You weren’t settling, were you? He was a good guy, a sweet guy, and you loved his family.

But was he the one person you wanted to spend your life with? Could one person really be all you needed?

You walked back into the party and got another drink from the bar, almost waiting for Patrick to come back in and whisk you away.

He never did.

[theastrical]

your wedding with the genshin men

kaeya, diluc, childe x bride!reader

ps: i’m sorry it’s only three characters, i’ve been getting a burnt out these past few days, so the content might be kind of a flop hhh…:(

kaeya, our dream wedding

He had prepared since a very long time about this day; especially ever since you both have started to get serious about this relationship you have with him. He has been hinting it down, asking you questions that lead him to know your dream wedding. He doesn’t want anybody to know aside from his best man, which is diluc.

And finally when the time came for him to explain the wedding and how much have he taken care of the whole thing, you were amazed, in fact, you cried, because all have been taken care of and not by the preparation, not that it impresses you as much as how how much he knows you, how much he prioritise your dream in this wedding of yours instead of his. “I thought it’ll be nice to know my fiance’s dream…after all, your dream is mine as well.”

Weeks before the wedding, when you do your fitting and have prepared your own specials for the wedding, kaeya asked not to spoilt him any more of your preparation for him; so you did. You made your own vow, you prepared a flower…an eternal flower where it’s protected by glass and it can last forever, and your wedding dress-which has been designed to have kaeya’s favorite flower, the calla lily.

But there’s one more thing you have made a secret of, it’s a small gift from you that’s more to what he had imagined, you had asked an illustrator to come inside the wedding and draw crepus; his late father, to attend his wedding beside him and diluc as his best man in the final picture of the wedding. To commemorate what crepus can’t see; his two sons growing up.

The day you walked in the aisle, he can only open his mouth; spilling out the word “mine” quietly. He held your hand, like a guard trying to protect it, before he kisses your palm, and greet you in his thousand of smiles. He had made a vow, super simple and short but it makes you tear up, cause kaeya, never said words that impacted you more than today and so did you when you spilled out your vows to him.

The wedding ring was made to complete each other when it’s used, yours are the sun and his are the moon. The audience consist of people that are close to you, hence it wasn’t that awkward for both of you to even have the first kiss as a husband and wife, because…it felt too good to be true, to finally have him as the one for your entire life.

Although, kaeya finally broke down when..you asked the illustrator to show the painting to him. It felt like, crepus is there. His only father figure is there to be with him in his happiest moment. He cried like a baby, while seeking a comfort on you. He kisses your cheeks nose and everywhere, telling you in a whisper…”you don’t know how much all of these meant to me, i didn’t regret any of this at all…please never stray away from me.”

Diluc; royalty wedding

He had made it clear before that he will prepare a royal wedding, something that the royals can only partake. You were baffled obviously, you know how much it’ll cost and you can’t never contribute even a slightest bit cause hey, the thing he called wedding is basically the sentence of “how to spend all of your life savings in one night.”

So you talked it out with diluc, you have thought it’ll be okay if it’s going to be a simple wedding as long as the money is enough but diluc immediately banished that thought with a simple sentence of “you won’t put your money into it and that’s final. Just let me be the one to pay, you can prepare everything you want, as long as both of us can have our own time inside the wedding. After all my dear, what’s the use of these money if i can’t please you hmm?” the guilt is there inside you but you just nodded. After all, if he had put the mind inside it. You know there’s no way out.

So you did, you prepared your all time wishlist, ready to spend out his unlimited wallet like there’s no other day than your wedding. He chuckled when he saw the bill for your every needs, he thought it was funny that even after everything, you only waste what you thought were expensive for you instead for him. So he bought you the much more expensive food for the wedding to make your spending balance with his, because it’ll be unequal if both side don’t have the pleasure on preparing this wedding.

Yes diluc is showing his love thru his materialistic nature, but that’s just how he is, because he trust you enough to show what he have more than his demeanor that everybody judge to be cold and rude. Because you’ve seen his everything, his emotional side especially, and he wanted to pay you back for being his everything (his daily listener and his free pats and affection machine) by enjoying the perfect wedding and soon to be life he can afford with his money.

So when the day came, you were not just in shock, you were so baffled you continue to asked him “we’re not in the wrong place right?” Which he just answered with “how come we’re in the wrong place silly…there’s your name and mine in the sign hehe..” after all he has been keeping the location secret, he just wants you to come and be his forever at this point.

That same day is the only time you see him smile like a sun, he definitely should smile more and you hope that the sight of your dress can turn him into a sunshine. You were preparing your dress and makeup, your bridesmaid as well, all of you are having fun by yourself until it’s time.

you suddenly feel nervous, your heart felt like it just fell down…and the way your stomach churn just before you walk down the aisle, oh god, you wanted to puke-yet in the same time you step your heels onto the floor, diluc immediately look at you, his face is cold, it made you 100 more times groggy.

But as soon as you hold his hands and he held yours, he whispered to you…”don’t make me fall in love with you more now..” shit, diluc, don’t make me blush even more!!! He said his vows, which was helped by kaeya cause he wants to make it…more informal, to which it made you teared up because with the help of kaeya and his willingness, it feel like he finally talked his honest feelings…

and When it’s time for your first kiss as a wife and a husband, he held your waist, leaning your body down and kisses you passionately as he look at your eyes, what a love fool he is to even kiss you like there’s no other day. Oh and surprise surprise, after the whole wedding ended, he showed you his long time gift that he hasn’t been able to expose, a small house in the mountainside-an escapism for you both to have your best life together. “let’s use that tomorrow yea? i’ve packed your things and mine, let’s have a peaceful honeymoon where no one can’t disturb us~…”

Childe; the traditional wedding

You guys will have the wedding of the century in his hometown (presumably by childe’s family cause his hometown rarely have weddings and childe is known across the town). You didn’t deny that request though, after all you have visited childe’s hometown and it certainly is beautiful even when the place is extremely cold.

Because the wedding is far away from your family and friends, he decided to pay for their tickets, after all, marrying you means marrying your entire life, at least to a traditional man like him.

Months before the wedding, he had talked to you about the wedding and how he needed to at least have your approval in these certain things, cause he doesn’t want to disappoint his wife, the wedding is basically his test to become your perfect husband. The wedding he planned was a simple traditional wedding, speaking each vows and family gathering, that’s all. It’s not exactly what the modern “wedding of the century” is but to his family, seeing childe getting married is already a gem by itself.

You both have agreed to spoilt each other privately in the honeymoon instead, because the wedding will be filled with his huge family members and friends you barely know. so with a short and simple event to be held, you guys have decided to exchange each other’s precious item; and both of you have chosen the wedding ring. Instead of couple wedding ring, you guys chose each ring that represent both of you the best, so when it was exchanged, then you guys would have a part of each other in hand.

In the aisle where you walked, he just stared at you, mesmerized by you-his eyes slowly tearing up in response; because his heart was struck by a realization, to met someone like you, who understands him the most and make this wedding more than the word special to him…is enough. You’re beautiful, too beautiful in truth, especially for somebody like him.

When you were beside him, he chuckles and hide his tears, yet your hands immediately brush those tears with a comforting smile, he replies with a grunt of “thank you, wifey..” ,

you both exchange vows, he ended his vows with a quote from Shakespeare that he read about in his first library date with you..”life is too short to love you in one, i promise to look for you in the next life”. He hugged you instead of kissing you at first, because he was already too emotional when he said his vows.

Then afterwards you guys exchanged the ring, his was a blue sapphire, the same color as his eyes, yours were white, bland indeed, but white is a base-a color which everybody need, and you wanted him to know, that you’re always here for him. When you both exchanged the rings, he laughed, he was too happy to have a piece of you in him. He even make a play with his wingman by acting like they’re polishing it and make sure it’s all pretty. You were laughing your ass off because childe look so smitten by this point.

And when the priest say it was time to kiss each other as a wife and a husband. He immediately carry you in his arms and kisses your lips…before he slips to your cheeks and neck. He carries you to his arm and snuggles to your neck, walking thru the doors of the wedding venue to the private hall to continue the family gathering…which is basically him feeding you food and the guests intervening onto childe’s act of service by talking to you both almost every single second. “now just eat the food okay? I’ll handle those nosy guest..” he pats you before he feeds you again and again, as he giggles…for seeing how cute you are like this, teary eyed from the wedding ceremony and hungry.

[seoktized]

mdni.

a/n: this gyub rot is killing me PLS i need him so bad.. reblogs are very appreciated <3 thank u for reading :3

warnings: cursing, phone sex, gyuvin calls reader ‘bunny’ + other pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl, doll), toy usage.

»»————-　♡　————-««

imagine teasing gyuvin by sending him pics of you all dolled up in a pretty pink set, sending it with a message saying ‘miss you tons’

gyuvin was shocked, you knew he was filming for their new comeback. but he also knew you didn’t care. you just wanted a reaction out of him.

you smirked as texts from gyuvin began flooding in, but the last text was accompanied by a picture.

a picture of his hand resting over his bulge, his jeans down around his ankles. you assumed the photo was taken in the bathroom of the building they were filming in.

‘call me.’

you sat up on the bed, propping your phone up before hitting the facetime button. excitement flowing through your veins as you waited for gyuvin to pick up.

when the call connected you were greeting with an annoyed gyuvin.

“you couldn’t wait until i got home? you’re that needy?” he questioned. you watched as his eyes darted around the screen, taking in your pretty form.

you nodded, “i’m sorry, gyuv.. i was layin’ here and i started thinkin’ about you. i wanted to surprise you.”

“well, bunny, your little surprise got me hard,” he chuckled before shuffling a bit, “now you’re gonna help me out cause i cant film like this.”

there was a pause before he flipped the camera around, revealing his hard cock. the tip red and leaking as he slowly stroked himself.

“c’mon, bun, don’t be shy.” he said lowly.

you moved back on the bed, spreading your legs for gyuvin. he watches as you teasingly pulled off your panties.

“fuck, you don’t think you’ve teased me enough? don’t wanna have to punish your more later.” he said through gritted teeth.

your eyes trailed over to your nightstand, remembering you had a dildo stashed in there for whenever gyuvin wasn’t around.

“wait a sec,” you squeaked before moving out of the camera to grab the toy.

gyuvin’s hand stopped at the base of his cock, waiting for you to come back into view. when he saw what was in your hand, he cursed under his breath.

you quickly adjusted yourself and spread your legs once again, this time reaching down to rub the toy up and down your slick. you moaned as it brushed against your clit.

“put it inside, bun,” he groaned, “i gotta go back soon.”

you nodded and pushed the dildo in slowly, the stretch making your head tilt back and your eyes flutter shut.

“mmm, fuck, gyuvin. wish it was you..” you moaned out.

gyuvin winced, tightening his grip on his cock, imagining it was your cunt wrapped around his length. you opened your eyes, titling your head back down to watch as gyuvin fucked his hand.

a whine escaped your lips as the tip of the dildo reached deep inside your pussy, almost feeling like gyuvin’s.

“that’s it, pretty girl. shit- you gonna cum for me? make a mess all on the bed?” gyuvin’s eyes were glued to the screen, watching as your cunt sucked in the toy.

you cried out, nodding profusely at gyuvin’s words. your free hand snaked down to your clit, drawing circles on the bundle of nerves.

“cum for me, bunny.” he groaned.

the stimulation to your clit and the rasp of gyuvin’s voice was all it took to send you over the edge. gyuvin came at the sight of your convulsing form, a stream of curses flowing from his mouth.

you whimpered as you slid the dildo out and you heard a sharp intake of air from gyuvin.

“ready for you to get home, gyu.” you said with a loopy grin on your face. you sat up to grab your phone then fell back onto the bed.

gyuvin had now turned the camera and you could see his flushed cheeks.

“you’re in for a long night, sweetheart.” his eyes narrowed before a loud knock echoed throughout the room.

“gyuvin? you okay in there? you’ve been gone for like 30 minutes.”

you couldn’t make out who the voice was, but gyuvin rolled his eyes, replying “yea, i’ll be out in a sec.” to the person outside.

“see you later, doll. no more pictures like that while i’m at work okay? can’t risk the boys seeing ‘em.” he said.

you nodded, “mhmm okay, gyuv. see you later, i love you.”

“i love you more,” gyuvin replied before he hung up, quickly scrambling to get out of the bathroom and finish filming so he could go home.

‘time to plan another surprise’ you thought to yourself.

[hoshinasblade]

second best |2| hoshina soshiro

Part 1 | Part 2 |

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader genre: slight angst, comfort, childhood friends to lovers, a bit of that miscommunication trope snippet: hoshina soshiro always ranks second at everything in his life. god forbid he falls behind in the bid for your heart too. word count: 2.5K trigger warnings: author's note: hello, reposting the part 2 because of hiccups from saturday when i posted it first (tumblr blocked my blog lol). likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated but please do not copy or steal my works. in celebration of this blog reaching 100 followers recently, i have written a bonus part 3 which will be posted within this week. my taglist form is here, and feel free to let me know your thoughts by sending me an ask through here. using my degree correctly by writing hoshina fanfics yes

you aren't sure when things changed between you and hoshina soshiro.

when you were young, you would have understood that he didn't have the attention span to deal with you. he wasn't exactly shy, but you wouldn't call him friendly too - unlike you, who has taken it upon herself to be friends with all the children in the small neighbourhood. unfortunately for you, only the hoshina brothers are at the same age as you are, and at that time you thought that was a sign that fate was giving - you ought to be close to them.

you won't deny that you were fonder of the hoshina brothers than anyone when you started school. if you are being honest, you like them more than any of your expensive dolls or toys. being an only child, you thought it was only natural to want someone to be with - to want someone to share things with.

the brothers would have their endless training sessions every day, and though you did not know how to swing a sword then, you insisted to your parents - and theirs - that you must join them. sometimes you would be sitting on the floor just watching them, and frequently you would be the one keeping count of the score between soshiro and soichiro when they spar.

soshiro has never won a single match against his brother when they were kids.

but you didn't mind. you still preferred him over soichiro.

in fifth grade, you bought him the biggest cake your meagre savings could buy. it wasn't much really, but you won't forget how wide his eyes went when you lighted the candles and sang him the happy birthday song albeit out of tune. the next year, you gifted him a small keychain - a teddy bear in a purple kimono. you never saw him use it.

it wasn't until years after that you worked out what your feelings for him were. the girls from your class would make small talk and ask if you have a boyfriend now and then. you would say no all the time. at sixteen, you felt like you didn't need to be in a relationship - because you have soshiro, you said to yourself - and that was when it hit you.

every time soshiro would talk to you after that, you would peek in your little compact mirror, worried he had miraculously discovered your secret, afraid that maybe your face had given it away. he caught you doing that once, and he accused you of attempting to be pretty for him.

"is it me ye're trying to be cute for?" he volunteered to carry your bag on your way home but you declined. you didn't want to start assuming things; you knew he was just being nice.

"ya wish," you deflected effectively.

"well, whoever it is for, they're in for some trouble", he commented, and you chose not to read too much in his words. you realized how the walk to your house always seemed to be shorter when you were with soshiro.

when you turned eighteen, you asked your mom what it meant to be in love. she was the last person you had wanted to ask - your parents had broken their perfect marriage not long ago, your father choosing to abandon your mother and you. soshiro taught you the basics of kendo during those hard months. "i'll even let ya beat me", he said to you.

"it's when you care for them so much that you will go as far as to let them go because you wanted them to be happy," your mother answered.

soshiro did not have the decency to say goodbye when he left himeji. you wanted to celebrate with him, and it wasn't like you weren't familiar with his plans to move after graduation. you used to stay up late with him, and inevitably the conversation would steer to his dream of getting out of your town. he would say that it's to expand his horizons - for his growth - but you like to give yourself some credit because you know him too well to simply believe that. you can tell that he needs a place to stretch his wings and be the best - somewhere he can be better than his brother.

and maybe you are really your mother's daughter - you let hoshina soshiro go because you thought it would make him happy.

"vice-captain, platoon leader said ye're needed at operations." you saluted and walked inside his office. "get yer ass in there, were the exact words actually," you added, intending it to be a joke.

soshiro didn't even look up from the file he had been staring at since you came in. he's been like this for days after you were sworn in the defense force. you would bump into him in the hallways of the training building or sit at the same table with him for lunch, and he wouldn't speak to you at all. if you didn't know better, you would think that finally, after all these years, he is now aware of your feelings. but that would be impossible, because not only the other recruits would not dare to rat you out, but also because soshiro would not be acting this way if he knew.

"v-vice captain?" you repeated.

soshiro hummed. "i heard ya the first time, officer," he said, his glance on you so cold you felt it from where you stood. it wiped off the smile you were wearing that morning.

"ya can go," he said once more after he noticed you didn't move. "or d'ya need anything else from me?"

"no, vice-captain." you were almost out of the door when you remembered something else. "one more thing, hoshina-san," you faced him again, the way you said his last name soft against your own lips. "soichiro-kun will be visiting again tomorrow so we can go to himeji together -"

"do ya belong to the sixth division?" soshiro cut you off. "i didn't know ya transferred."

"i - i'm not -" you were still trying to look for the appropriate response when he interrupted you again.

"then why are ya spending so much time with him? d'ya wanna move to his jurisdiction?" soshiro is standing now, whatever he was reading earlier long forgotten.

it was difficult to reconcile this distant man in front of you with the boy you used to chase after during your childhood days. the one who would bring you an extra boxed lunch because you told him before that his bento tastes so much better than yours. the boy you fell in love with. you had both grown up, and taken different paths at a time, yes, but you did not expect to struggle so badly to find common ground with him. "im sorry, vice-captain, i'll be off now." it felt like a huge chasm had opened in the middle of the room that determined to keep the two of you worlds apart. you turned to leave, and you heard him mutter something.

"if ya wanted to keep going on dates with my brother, ya shouldn't have gone here."

there is only one thing sharper than his katana and it is hoshina soshiro's mouth.

pain swirled inside you, threatening to spill over. when you couldn’t keep the turmoil in any longer, you snapped.

"what is yer problem?!" your pitch reached a high octave that soshiro was shocked at the outburst. "did i do anything? cause yer being mean, soshiro," you pressed on, stepping closer to him. it didn't escape him how you dropped the title off his name, and the honorifics, too. he was about to respond, but you didn't give him the chance. "look, i know yer not on good terms with soichiro-kun, but he’s my friend."

"like i needed to be reminded." sarcasm coated his retort. "ya know what? ya can marry the guy and i won't even care. do whatever ya want", he said, dismissing you in a harsher tone

your forehead scrunched and your eyebrows met in confusion. "what are ya talkin' about? no one is getting married -"

soshiro's laugh was bitter. you recoiled at the offensive sound. "i'm not the one going around telling everyone she's in love with soichiro-kun.”

there was a loud ringing in your ears; you couldn’t believe what you were hearing, and you were suddenly afraid that this conversation is unfolding into something else entirely. “i never said that,” you protested. “i never told anyone i was in love with him. i don’t know where you’re getting this from.”

soshiro’s expression remained stoic and unreadable. “i heard you say it at the izakaya”, he murmured.

breath was knocked out of your lungs and panic started to rise within you. “i never told anyone i was in love with him”, you repeated. you tried to rewind every second of what happened in the party thrown for the new officers nearly a month ago. everyone was drinking and having a good time after the sworn-in ceremony. commander ashiro and the vice-captain had to leave ahead. your fellow newbies grilling you on your history with hoshina soshiro.

“save it.” hurt was evident in soshiro’s voice; his eyes glimpsed at you briefly, and you saw an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher flicker. soshiro’s expressionless mask faltered for a moment, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability. although you don’t have a clue how he would have heard it when he went with commander ashiro that night, the desire to straighten things out overtook you.

for a split second, the burden of the truth hangs heavily on your tongue. you gave in to the desperation.

“i never told anyone i was in love with him”, you reiterated, hoping he would understand this time. “because it’s you i’m in love with.”

there were multiple occasions in the past where you almost admitted what he meant to you; you had pictured a thousand scenarios in your head where you declared your love, but all of them did not include the part where soshiro would respond.

you thought confessing would ease the ache in your heart, but it was the opposite. "i didn't know how to tell ya, and that's my fault. but how could i? ya didn't even bother to say goodbye to me when ya left home." it was taking everything of you to hold your tears back, and ignoring the obvious tremble in your voice, you continued. "did ya know i taught myself how to pray after ya were gone? i thought it was the only thing i could do for ya."

"i didn't know", was all soshiro could say. he looks in distress, still grappling with your bold confession.

a loud knock on the door broke the tension. “vice-captain, they made me fetch you,” okonogi said from the hall.

“well, now ya do.” you turned away just when soshiro strode towards your direction, running after you. you were faster than him, and despite the possibility that you would be seen coming from the vice-captain’s office crying, you twisted the doorknob and ran.

it is still hot when you sit down on a bench at the rooftop of the third division's training building.  you welcomed the cool breeze, however, and you noted that at this altitude, everything from far away looks considerably smaller.

you missed two important briefings this afternoon already, and your team is most certainly searching frantically for you everywhere. you are definitely going to be scolded by your superior. yet you couldn’t bring yourself to discard the little comfort being alone had given to you, especially after such an emotional confrontation. you sighed, exhaustion slowly crawling all over you. lost in your thoughts, you did not notice the soft footsteps approaching until a familiar voice tore through the silence. the cold breeze blew, making you shiver a bit.

“hey,” soshiro called out. you freaked out, immediately looking for a space to hide at. “i already saw ya,” he let you know.

he held out a keychain in front of your face, a tiny bear in a faded purple kimono with the string attached to its head dangling from his forefinger. you recognized it instantly - you got it for him when he turned 12 years old. he sat beside you, not concerning himself with asking for your permission.

“the first few days were the hardest”, he began, and you listened. “i was too used to seeing ya every day, but when we were apart, i convinced myself i would forget how ya look like. i didn’t.” he offered the keychain to you and you took it - the bear’s fur worn out and old to your touch. “i hold that thing whenever i start to miss ya.”

shock was etched on your face and your gaze darted to him. “is it too late now to say that i love ya?” he whispered, his face mirroring the sincerity of his tone. sunlight bathed the rooftop as soshiro’s words hung in the air, leaving you breathless and stunned. you gasped. “maybe i should have told ya sooner. but i have been in love with ya for a while now.”

you leaned into his shoulder, and you quietly cried.

“i don’t think i have been anybody’s first choice in anything, so it didn’t enter my mind that ya would probably feel the same.” his hand found yours and you relished on the warmth.

“your brother advised that i tell ya, ya know?” you said between sniffles.

he chuckled. “he didn’t do an excellent job at that, did he now?”

silence ensued; his thumb tracing patterns on the back of your hand, your head on his shoulder still - your breathing still a mess from everything that has been said. “i’m sorry i hurt ya. let me spend my whole life making it up to ya,” he proposed. the promise made your heart skip a beat.

for the first time in a long time, you gave him a smile - the one you have reserved just for him, the one you made sure to convey everything you wanted to tell him. there are a lot of other things you feel the need to ask him, but this will suffice for now. this is more than you ever had in your whole life.

“i can’t believe we wasted so much time dancing around our feelings. that one time i wanted to hit one of our classmates because he was being pushy with ya, d’ya remember that?” he reminisced. “anyone can have everything in the world, and the only time i would crack is if it is ya being taken away from me.”

all your dreams pale in comparison to your reality now.

out of the blue, you heard soshiro giggle. “does this mean ya were telling the newbies that night that it was me ye’re into?” he stared at you, and you can’t help but see him as the little boy you grew up with. this is the man i love, you said to yourself. you squeezed his hand.

you didn’t respond. all you know is the color of your cheeks surely rivals the pink of the skies as the both of you watch the sun sets.

[howlingday]

nother crack idea for jaune's exes: artoria pendragon has come to beacon to bring back her love to the safety of their little village! she knows jaune's dream is to be a hero but between his father giving him no training and him not getting into a combat school she worries about him, the only solution is to bring him back home for her to train in safety until he's ready! NO THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH HER WANTING TO EAT HIS COOKING! SHE'S DOING THIS FOR NOBLE REASONS!

"I SEEK THE HAND OF JAUNE ARC!"

The classroom had gone hush with the sudden announcement of the young, blonde woman in armor. The target of this stranger had a mixture of reactions, including the reddening of his cheeks and the swiftness of his hand to his face. The woman made her way down the steps to where Jaune was sitting.

"Jaune, I command you to return home at once!"

"Please, no..." Jaune groaned.

"Excuse me, young lady, but I'm afraid you'll have to wait until class is over to-"

"BE SEATED!" Professor Port responded to this decree by immediately sitting at his desk. "It is rude to interrupt the royal business of a king."

"Aren't you a girl, though?" Cardin asked, brow raised at the intruder.

"BE STILL!" A roar proclamation erupted, forcing Cardin to fall backwards, mouth held shut. "Jaune, I command-"

"I refuse." Jaune said, knocking the woman off-guard. "Also, I'm attending Beacon."

"Jaune, who is this?" Pyrrha asked, confused by the casual way Jaune spoke to the stranger after watching her emasculate both Professor Port and Cardin Winchester. As annoying as it was, both were two of the most masculine people in the room, yet the woman shut them both down, only thrown off her high horse by the response of her team leader. "Do you know her?"

"Yeah." Jaune nodded. "She's my ex." Gasps resounded throughout the classroom. "Why is everyone so surprised?"

"Because it's you?" Weiss answered.

"Because she's so scary!" Ruby replied, putting up her hands in and waving them in defense when the woman glared at her. "Uh, not scary in a bad way!"

"What other way is scary supposed to be taken?" Blake asked.

"Er, when- when you say ex, do you mean ex-friend, or ex-lab partner, or ex-"

"Girlfriend." The woman answered. "And I refuse your claim."

"You said you were fine when we broke up." Jaune clarified. "You even said that you were thinking about travelling around a bit, too."

"Yes, and I did travel around as we discussed." She held an armored hand to her heart. "I've seen many things on my journey, but all of them paled when compared to you." This brought about a coo from the classroom, taken in by the romantic statement. It seemed she genuinely cared about him.

"You got hungry for my cooking again, didn't you?" The classroom nearly fell on their face.

"N-No! Of course not!"

"Then why did you suddenly decide to come find me here at Beacon?" Jaune held up a finger. "A good king doesn't lie to their people."

"Ghk!" The woman flinched. "I... You are correct. I did feel hungry for your cooking again."

"Uh-huh, I thought so."

"But regardless of my reasoning, I still intend to complete my mission!"

"If you're hungry, then just wait until class is over. It's almost lunchtime."

"No, that's not why I'm here." She dropped to one knee. "Jaune Arc, will you do me the honor of becoming Mr. Artoria Pendragon?"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" The class was in shock. Partially from the proposal by Artoria, but also from the refusal of this act by not Jaune Arc, but his partner, Pyrrha Nikos. All eyes fell on her and felt the urge to shrink back from them, but when her green eyes fell to those of the woman holding Jaune's hand, such urges dispersed. "Jaune Arc is a student of Beacon Academy and the leader of Team JNPR. I refuse to allow you to strip him of him of both titles and responsibilities just so you can eat."

"And who are you to challenge the King of Knights?" Artoria asked, standing tall against her foe.

"My name is Pyrrha Nikos, the partner of Jaune Arc." Though the word held different meanings, in this instance Pyrrha's words held them in their most simplest form. Even if Pyrrha wished they meant something deeper. "And I refuse to allow you to take him away from me."

[the-ace-with-spades]

I'll never write it because it hits a bit too close home for me to write it without mental strain (I'd read it okay tho...) but I have a very specific scenario in my head so—

Bradley gets the same type of cancer his mom died from.

I imagine it's lung or pancreas cancer because I've seen those and they can be quite aggressive or progressive depending on type. In my head, Carole was in her late thirties/early forties at the latest when she got sick and I imagine it was unexpected and quick, as it often is with young cancer.

The thing is, people deal with cancer diagnosis differently in so many ways — some are in complete denial, some try to stay optimistic for their family, and some just... give up.

Bradley's seen enough cancer and death that he can't deny it but he also can't ever believe he has any luck left in life.

He's in his late 20s. He's just been proposed as his squad's candidate for Top Gun. The DADT just got removed. He has a long-term, serious partner (Jake) who he might not be completely open about everything yet but whom he loves and plans to marry and who loves him back. They're planning on buying a house, Jake talks about having kids. Bradley met Jake's family and his life didn't blow up and they even liked him. The years after he stopped talking to Mav were tough, but he's feeling as settled and as happy with his life as he can be at the time.

He goes to his routine physical as normal, maybe his spirometry comes up short or maybe his bloods are a bit off, or maybe he's just feeling more tired than normal and the doc has a feeling.

Doc informs him about the suspicions, he gets the tests done and it turns from suspicion to reality. At no point Bradley mentions it to Jake. He's taken off flying schedule, sure, but he doesn't tell anyone why, just making something up about his eyesight getting worse or maybe about a recurring ear or sinus infection.

Even if the diagnosis wasn't that bad and the oncologist was optimistic prognosis-wise, Bradley, who has already heard the exact same words about his mom's diagnosis, wouldn't believe it at all. Maybe he wouldn't believe it at all to the point that he'd refuse treatment and just let life run its course.

He'd start planning.

Get everything sorted out while he can. Make it as painless for everyone as much as he can.

And it starts small and escalates quickly. He updates his will, he has a med leave meeting with his superiors, advocates for a transfer to an office role.

He breaks up with Jake, still not telling him a thing. Just so he doesn't have to go through it with Bradley as well — because he knows he'd. And you bet he does the break up in a way that pisses Jake off to the point he doesn't realize how suspicious everything is — the timing, the medical leave, Bradley changing from 'let's buy a house together and have kids' to 'i don't think we can really work out together' on the span of weeks. He's brash in the worst way, and obviously, it also makes their friend group wary and isolates him — which was exactly his plan.

There's one person who he knows will be forever guilty if they don't talk. So, you know, he takes a trip down to China Lake and he and Mav talk. He says all the right things he knows Mav wants to hear — that he forgives him, that he's not mad anymore, that he understands, that he still considers Mav his sort of dad and that he was pissed but he's ready to move on. Maybe Mav does the unexpected and explains to Bradley why he pulled the papers and maybe Bradley actually forgives him.

So, you know, with that Bradley is all ready to take on everything alone, never have anyone find out and just start, well, dying on his own, medical partial leave, all of his stuff sold or written into the will, potential transfer to a paper-pushing position in Point Mugu, far away from everyone who could ever care about him, any people who could ever be affected at all by his illness in the blind.

He was not counting on one thing, though — that Mav, forgiven and missing over ten years of Bradley's life, will try to be part of his life again. Calls, visits — Bradley can't really keep it hidden that he's just rolled over his life in the span of weeks, even if he doesn't not why. Bradley was young when his mom got sick but not that young — he remembers how Mav took it, he's not going to retraumatize him.

But it's really hard not to let Mav know too much when he's asking about everything, and he mentions Jake once and Mav runs wild with the information. First starts to prod Bradley, then tries to do his own investigation and finds out that Jake was stationed at the same base and that they had been together before they broke up abruptly not long ago.

He thinks he's connected the dots — Bradley's weird behavior has to be due to heartbreak, y'know — and tries to play a bit of a wingman by approaching Hangman on his own.

The two people Bradley is trying to keep in the blind meet and realize something is fishy. Jake not only gets hit with the face with Bradley's estranged dad existing but also not being estranged anymore and with that Bradley is acting freaking weird. Mav gets hit in the face because it was Bradley who did the breaking up in the nastiest way possible (and he raised him better than that and also can still see he's got the sad lovesick puppy face whenever Mav tries to bring Jake up) but also with the realization that whatever Bradley is doing, he's got them fooled.

In the end, I think it'd be Ice who figures it out (whether or not he and Mav are together in this scenario). Hears all about it from Mav and Jake and has this moment when it all kind of spins in his head, his own experiences and feelings making a callback, and just tells them, it sounds like he's preparing for a goodbye.

Needless to say, Jake is pissed, Mav is pissed. They stage an intervention and you know that Bradley coughs up (probably in some dramatic way as well... like getting sick to the point they call an ambulance for him...). They definitely freak out when they find out he's been refusing treatment this whole time.

(I don't want to go into actual details of treatment but you can bet Mav and Jake are fucking glued to him from then on and they watch him like hawks. It's not all roses and I don't believe it'd be a quick treatment, probably running long, having better and worse days. Maybe he won't even be able to fly afterwards, once he's in remission. Maybe he never goes into remission. I don't know, I don't like thinking that far...)

[toast-on-dandelioms]

🕷️Just Another Neglected Story 🕷️

[previous] - Part 4.2 - [next]

I will add here the rest of the tag list, sorry for having to divide it into two

Clark immediately grabbed the door and punched it right in the middle of it, making a hole to which he used to grab the door off its hinges and throw it away, not caring about anything but Spider's wellbeing. 

He was the first one to enter the room, looking around to see if Joker was still there so he could kill the bastard who dared to hurt his child. 

Bruce was the second to enter and immediately walked around to find the vigilante, stopping to stare in silence at the cold body of Joker stuck on the wall. 

He checked for a pulse, not too worried about the clown but needed to see if he was worth saving, letting out a small sigh when he felt no pulse. 

He sighed once again, mostly out of anger since he wanted to be the one to kill the man who dared to hurt his child (Spider), before starting to worry that if Spider knew that they killed a man, he didn't know how they would react to the news. 

He quickly looked away and went back to search for the teen, now even more worried about their wellbeing, especially when Clark told him that he could hear their heartbeat but it was incredibly slow, which meant that he couldn't find them immediately.

As he looked around the room, he kept on getting angrier as he saw drops of blood from fighting and some weapons and bullets that Joker probably used on Spider since they were all covered in blood. 

As he searched around he heard Superman call for him and quickly ran up to him, finding a gravely injured Spider with their mask ripped off and full of bruises on their face and body. 

Their body was also covered in bruises and wounds made from Joker, their ragged breath accentuating the severity of their injuries. 

He gently called them using their vigilante name since no one knew their real name, sighing in relief when Spider opened their eyes to look at him and hissed at him, not recognising him or Clark because of their injuries and how scared they were. 

They calmed down after Clark gently called out to them and got in their line of vision then started talking with a broken voice as their eyes filled with tears, the words having to be repeated because of how much Spider sobbed and gasped from the pain of their injuries. 

"h-he kept laughing and hitting me after a weird gas poured in the room, I d-didn't want to hurt him but I punched him out of desperation, h-he's been so silent and I-I don't know if he's even alive, I'm so sorry". 

He set a hand on their head after taking off the rest of their mask to help them see better and just told them, with a soft voice that even Clark was a bit taken aback, "you did good kid, I'm sorry you had to fight alone" as he knew what Joker was capable of and was glad Spider survived and was able to fight back. 

He instructed Superman to pick them up and fly back to the Manor, using his own cape to cover Spider's body to protect them from the harsh winds while Clark was flying, letting Conner follow him so he could call Tim and get Alfred to prepare the medbay. 

He then turned to Jason and Stephanie with an unnerving calm face and a smile that the two took a step back in fear of what he was planning since Batman was never calm, especially if someone he cares about gets hurt. And he was smiling, which meant it was bad news and to not try to stop him. 

He quickly walked towards the three heroes in front of him and put a hand on both Stephanie and Jason's shoulder and said in a weirdly cheerful voice "who wants to help Batman burn down the place and all the people who dared to hurt Spider?". 

Not that Bruce was asking for their help, he just wanted it to be done faster so he could go home to Spider. In a normal case he would make it slow for whoever tried to hurt his child but this time he couldn't stop to enjoy the pain of the leader that was still in the room. 

He gave both of his kids a set of bombs to put all around the bunker, telling them to not care about anyone and just place the bombs around while he took care of the leader. 

He grabbed the makeshift throne from the pedestal it was put on and dragged it in the center of the room, not even caring about the noise the chair was making. 

He then grabbed the passed out cultist and threw him on the throne, using some handcuffs to hold him there so he wouldn't escape if things got bloody. 

Not that he wouldn't mind if things got bloody, he needed to relieve some stress after what happened to Spider and fortunately for him, that cultist was there and he needed to ask some questions.

He stared at the still passed out cultist and grabbed some smelling salts from his utility belt before snapping them under the cultist nose, a smirk appearing on his face when the cultist woke up and was scared when he saw him. 

He wanted him to be scared, god just seeing how scared he was while trying to free himself from the cuffs on both arms and legs was incredibly satisfying, especially to what he wanted to do to him. 

He roughly grabbed the cultist’s face to make him look directly at him, wanting all of his attention to ask his questions and slowly leaned down to look him right in the eyes. 

“Now I am gonna ask you a few questions, if you tell me the truth I will let you walk out of this room alive but if you lie..”

He didn't finish the sentence and let the fear and the realization of what he meant wash over the cultist face, enjoying every second of it and he wanted him to be scared. 

He let go of his face after a bit, a small smirk on his face when he saw the imprints of his fingers by how hard he squeezed his face. 

“Why was Joker here? That clown never worked with cultists before” 

He stayed silent as he watched the man hang his head low, starting to get even more angry when he didn't immediately answer. 

He took a small step back in shock when he suddenly heard a laugh, very similar to the laugh Joker always had whenever he fought that clown. 

His face was in shock when the cultist raised his head and showed the same maniac smile the clown always had, making him think that the ghost of Joker possessed the man, especially since the man just kept on laughing. 

“Batman, the world's greatest detective, can't figure out something so simple! The trap wasn't for you, or even one of your many sidekicks!”

The man kept on laughing before suddenly stopping, his smile still on his face as he stared at Batman right in the eyes. 

“It was for your little metahuman that started to clean the streets, everything here was for that annoying vigilante and leaving a message for you” 

He laughed again when he saw the shock in Batman’s face, not even minding the handcuffs on both arms and legs as he moved them while laughing like a maniac. 

“Everyone noticed your obsession for them, how all of your sidekicks kept on following them and getting rejected or thrown off a roof. You're not so secretive Batman and we just used them to send you a message” 

Bruce just stared at the cultist laughing before grabbing a gun that Jason gave him and just shot the cultist in the face, using all the bullets inside the magazine. (The thing that holds bullets inside the gun if you don't know)

He stopped when the gun didn't shoot anymore and walked out the room, his eyes filled with fury at the thought that other rogues and villains in Gotham wanted to hurt Spider.

As he walked around the bunker to get to the exit, he killed anyone who tried to attack him or was in his way, not even caring about his no-kill rule or how the blood kept splattering on his suit. 

He finally got out of the bunker, noticing both Jason and Stephanie near Conner’s ship and just gave them a nod before getting in his own jet, waiting until the bunker exploded before taking off. 

He put the coordinates to the batcave and flew as fast as his jet could, wanting to get to the Batcave as fast as he could, his mind going over so many scenarios of Spider dying because of him whenever Alfred or anyone else in the cave didn't answer his calls that he was starting to get a panic attack at the thought of Spider dying because he was too late to save them. 

When he finally arrived at the cave he basically jumped out the jet as it was landing and ran to the medbay, taking off his mask in the meantime as he didn't need it and having it on was like a reminder of the hatred that Spider has for that symbol. 

As he ran, he ignored both of the Kryptonians still in the cave, not caring about their presence as he was more focused on making sure Spider was ok. 

He arrived just in time because he saw Alfred walk out the medbay while taking off the surgical gloves and robes covered in blood and was throwing them away in a nearby bin. 

He quickly walked up to the old man and started to ask a barrage of questions, ranging to what's the situation with Spider to how were they holding up and if they were alive and didn't have anything that would make them unable to move or do certain tasks. 

He stopped talking when Alfred raised a hand to signal silence and listened as he explained:

"Their condition is stable - for now. Their wounds were.. severe to put it bluntly, Master Bruce. They sustained a multitude of near-fatal injuries from Joker. Fixing 2 broken bones in both arms, a fractured rib and stitching  3 stab wounds that, luckily, didn't pierce any of their organs is no small feat, consider it a miracle they are even alive."

He paused for a brief moment, almost as if to re-evaluate in his head.

"If my assessment is correct, they should be up and running in 5 days thanks to their increased healing rate, 8, maybe 9 if they were to refuse any medication." 

Bruce nodded and turned to Dick and Duke who were near the room where Spider was resting at the moment.

He started to talk with Duke and Dick about the situation, sighing in relief when both Clark and Conner left because Tim managed to convince them that if they stayed it wouldn't really help since Spider was still unconscious and they could come visit after Spider wakes up. 

When both Jason and Stephanie arrived he started to explain, to who didn't know, the situation with Spider before getting interrupted by Dick yelling out. 

“I call dibs to share my room with them!” 

His chest heaved in a quick rhythm as he finished his sentence, the words still just teetering on the tip of his tongue from how rushed his speech was, a big smirk on his face as everyone else glared at him. 

Bruce sighed when he saw his kids were ready to fight to share a room with Spider, even though he also wanted to share his own room to make sure Spider was ok if they stayed next to him the whole time they were recovering. 

Unfortunately he needed to be the voice of reason at the moment and said.

“Spider won’t be sharing a room with anyone, they’re weak right now and waking up with one of us in a new place will overwhelm them too much. They’ll get their own room.”

He smiled when everyone grumbled but nodded, glad that no one was gonna contest him on this decision. 

But the moment of happiness didn't last long since after not even 2 minutes Damian raised his hand and yelled out. 

“I wish to call dibs to be the first one to meet Spider when they wake in a room in the mansion” 

After Damian yelled that out, everyone started to fight to be the second person to be with Spider when they wake up and to also choose which room Spider was gonna be the next to. 

Alfred stayed silent for a bit as he listened intently, forced to hear his son discuss about Spider staying in the Manor when they already live there.

He tried to stay calm as he listened, keep his composure and remain civil. But hearing both Bruce and the others call Spider by their vigilante name and not their real name, even after seeing their face, made his blood boil - he knew that he couldn't wait anymore. 

The things Spider had been subjected to and the injuries they suffered as a result, and how the Bats had reacted upon seeing their face- not understanding they were their sibling and child made him so unfathomably frustrated and enraged at the people he'd raised and cared for. Bruce was still discussing with Damian allowing Spider to sleep in the room next to his so he could show them all of his animals as Alfred silently walked over to him.

He decided to stop waiting for his kids to finally realize that Spider was, in fact, [Y/N]. 

His attempts thus far had proved unsuccessful, even after all the small things he put around the house for them to notice. He knew they were a lost cause if they didn't get the hint after all he did so he just walked up to Bruce who was busy trying to convince Damian to not let Titus or anyone else of his pets inside Spider’s room. 

He waited patiently for Bruce to stop talking, since it is impolite to interrupt someone while they're talking, and called out his name. 

"Master Bruce." 

Which got him a simple hand wave, signaling that he was busy. The dismissive action made him annoyed that he wouldn't listen, but he tried once more.

"Mast-”

But he was interrupted by Bruce's sharp hand wave and a scoff yet again, the man obviously frustrated by Damian and Jason, since the two were now arguing about who Spider was going to be placed next to in terms of rooms. 

He was fed up of being ignored and interrupted by everyone around him, raising his hands before clapping them together with an angry look on his face that garnered the attention of the entire room, the normally alive and bubbling room screeching to a halt in a wonderful blend of terror and surprise since Alfred was almost never mad. His glare danced around the room, shooting at each individual face before settling on Bruce's similarly surprised expression. 

Then he began his exasperated speech in an eerily calm voice.

"Honestly, Master Bruce, I can't believe I raised you to be like this. I gave you all enough many chances to make it right, let you take your time figuring it out, but it seems like you cannot even put enough thought into noticing the blatant hints and information I have given you, I could have written it in bold red ink on my forehead and you would still turn a blind eye. I am so far beyond disappointed in all of you that there is no word in the English dialect that could possibly encapsulate just how much you have let me down."

He raised a hand to stop Dick and Damian from talking and trying to defend themselves, or shifting the blame onto someone else in the group. 

"I have been patient and understanding with all of you and your behavior towards [Y/N], but after what happened today with Joker, I cannot sit idly by and continue to allow myself to pretend as if your disgraceful behavior is acceptable. You have run my tolerance and composure thin, so much so I cannot even fathom being quite so lenient anymore."

He stopped once again to level his glare at Bruce before shifting it briefly to Damian, knowing what the kid did to [Y/N] when they first arrived at the Manor.

"Spider's secret identity is [Y/N] Lawrence, also known as [Y/N] Wayne to me, and who is your child Master Bruce. Your child got bit by a mutated spider while working in a science lab, of which they had informed me, but your blatant ignorance is not even the worst part." 

As he walked up to Bruce and put a finger on his chest, his footsteps seemed so loud and deafening that some of the individuals in the room had to refrain from covering their ears. Alfred prodded Bruce's chest accusingly as if he was trying to physically reach his heart, despite his doubts that the man could even feel it. 

"The worst part is that you all ignored that poor child who lost their mother and came to us seeking help. They needed a family and stability after their supposed 'loved ones' shut the door in their face, and yet they couldn't even find that here. Your child could have lost their life today, they could have been taken to hospital only for us to be told they are unable to be saved, you could have been called to the morgue to confirm the body is theirs. And yet I don't think you would have been able to name their corpse."

He paused for a brief second to regain his composure ever so slightly, turning his attention to the others in the room.

"They learned gymnastics for you, Master Dick. Just so that you two could have something in common to talk about.  However, you always ditched them for Master Tim or Master Damian whenever they begged you to do something with them."

He glanced at Jason and the others who were standing there, wanting to make sure his kids knew how bad they messed up. He also ignored how destroyed Dick and Bruce looked when they realized and remembered what they said and did to [Y/N].

"They spent days in the library reading your favorite books Master Jason and even learned about guns and the maintenance for one whenever you visited to be close to you. They were the one who left candies out for you and always made a new pot of coffee for you whenever you drank it all master Tim.”

He then glared at Damian, knowing what the young boy did to the poor vigilante, now resting in the med bay. 

"After losing their mother, they were ecstatic about the idea of having a younger brother but you, Master Damian, thought they wanted to steal your place as Robin when they didn't even know your identity. But did you even stop to consider how horrifically you were treating a child that you were supposed to be protecting?"

Alfred paused his talking to lean down and look Damian in the eyes, making sure the boy's gaze wouldn't drift away. 

"No you didn't. You instead abused that child and made them so frightened and anxious about living near you that I had to move them to the other side of the Manor and serve them food in their room so they wouldn't starve to death. Despite your treatment of them, you didn't seem to care about the consequences of your actions, did you Master Damian?" 

He leaned back and stared at everyone, an exhausted yet somewhat pleased little smile appearing on his face when he saw the horrified moment-of-realization expressions on display as the weight of their treatment of [Y/N] came crashing down on their shoulders.

His gaze turned to Stephanie, Duke and Cassandra who were in the back of the group. Stephanie's voice was hoarse and trembling as her uneven sobbing filled the air, the realization as to why Spider always ignored and looked so annoyed when seeing her hitting her like a freight train. 

He stayed silent as he watched everyone realize what they’ve done before Duke, who was a bit busy trying to calm down Stephanie who was still crying, asked out loud. 

“Wait, then where is Spi- I mean, [Y/N]’s room?” 

To which Alfred sighed but led everyone, except Stephanie and Cassandra, who stayed behind to help Stephanie calm down and also make sure Spider would be ok in the medbay. 

As they all walked they noticed the way the corridor that led to [Y/N]’s room was very dark, like all the lightbulbs were taken off every chandelier to hide something. 

When they finally arrived the first thing that was noticed was the door almost completely covered in stickers and little kids drawing, along with an empty plate on a small table next to the door. 

Alfred stopped in front of the door before looking at everyone behind him, annoyed at their obvious hesitation at entering [Y/N]’s room but eventually grabbed the doorknob and twisted it, finally opening the room. 

The room is small.

As soon as they set foot inside, only two of them because not all of them fit, the feeling given by the room is almost claustrophobic. 

Being small by nature, the bed and objects make the room even more restricted, almost unbreathable. The mess does not fail to compensate for the effect; it is full of sheets of paper, fabric,  and metal constructions everywhere.

It is very admirable that [Y/N] managed to make gold out of every corner of the room, making it livable despite their spider "work". All the constructions and planning have even come to be hung from the ceiling.

Duke stayed a little to the side, but still took into account all the details of the room; like all the posters that cover the room. An almost spontaneous smile appeared on his face as soon as he realized that they are all about him as Signal, the thought of [Y/N] being a fan of his work made him happy and also proud of himself.

As everyone looked around, Dick raised his arm to grab the only sheet of paper that was hanging only on one side, being held by a web that basically crumbled when Dick tugged the paper off of it. But no matter how much he tries to decipher what is written, he really doesn't understand anything even though he knows many languages, dead and still used thanks to Bruce’s training.

Each paper everyone grabbed had a different topic written on it before being thrown around the room and attached to the wall or ceiling via webs. Some of those papers had methods to make the costume more comfortable to move, others tested various ways to make using the web shooters in a way that they could still work if they were underwater or electrocuted, while others depicted different versions of the costume, to make it easier for a child to see it and not scare them if they ever had to see it.

One of the main things that the two men that managed to be inside the room noticed is that they basically didn't know exactly what they're looking at. It's definitely one of the few times they set foot in [Y/N's] room, and the realization that they've neglected them so badly into allowing them to pull off a whole "hero" act without ever being aware of it hits them in the face like a violent slap.

As they looked around they all saw various photos in addition to the posters and papers pinned to the wall; in these photos there are various experiences where [Y/N] was depicted, but nothing is familiar to all of them, increasing their guilt. There were photos of them at a science fair, two or three at various dance recitals, but they noticed that the arrangement of the photos seemed purposely placed; every photo where [Y/N] was depicted, their smile seemed to become duller, forced as they grew older. Their eyes began to lose more and more of that spark of joy, becoming emptier, sadder.

Dick ran his eyes over all the trophies on the shelves, the badges from every competition he never attended. He doesn't remember them; hell, he never even saw them bring any  or badge home. For all the times [Y/N] has attended something, he has never been there. He should have thought twice before excluding them so much from his life. But there's no point in crying over spilled milk. 

Above all the badges and trophies there are only two photos; certainly spacing each other by 2-3 years. In the first photo, when [Y/N] was younger, they seemed genuinely happy to hold the trophy, smiling as if they wanted to dare the sun to shine like they did. But the second photo was completely different, it's almost agony for Dick to look at that fake smile imprinted on their face, like all their excitement and joy were sucked out of them but they still needed to smile. 

When Dick finally walked out the room to make way for Jason, his face was full of regret and guilt but the man ignored him to walk inside [Y/N]’s room. 

He ignored the papers all around the room and stayed a few seconds to look at the photos before looking at the small bookshelf he noticed in the corner. 

He slowly picked up one of the books sitting on the shelf and looked at the title, a bit surprised that it was Pride and Prejudice since every time he ever talks about it to someone, they never say that they liked it and just had to read it for school. 

But he saw that the book was incredibly used and full of small sticky notes all inside it. Whenever he opened a page following a sticky note sticking out the book he always found one of the passages filled with sticky notes or notes written on the page with a pencil, making him smile at the thought of [Y/N] loving the book so much that they wrote what they thought on the pages. 

As he flipped through the pages of all the books, he kept on noticing that on his favorite paragraphs there were small notes, like small instructions on how to add those paragraphs in a conversation with him, his heart breaking at the thought of [Y/N] working so hard to just incorporate something he liked so he could like them. 

He could feel the excitement in all the notes by the way they wrote them, like you couldn't wait to see him and talk to him about it. But he knew that you two never talked much, hell he can't even remember one single conversation he had with [Y/N], making him feel even worse than before. 

As Jason kept on reading all the books in the small bookshelf, Tim got to work on their laptop that he managed to find after searching all around the room. 

As he opened the case that had [Y/N]’s laptop inside, he could see some old stickers that depicted him during his time as Red Robin, along with some cute cat stickers that covered almost the entirety of the laptop's outside. The sight made him smile, endeared by the thought of [Y/N] still liking him enough that they actually had some of his stickers on their laptop. 

After opening it up, he powered it on and copied the password off of the little scribble next to the keypad. Going through the stuff inside the laptop, he noticed a folder full of photos of all of the bats, in either an embarrassing situation or funny moments when they were inside a dumpster after [Y/N] threw them inside of one. The thought made him laugh, especially whenever he found small notes written on that photo like what their crime was as to why they ended up in a dumpster. Though Duke, Cassandra and Bruce were missing from all the photos, as if they never existed to begin with.

As he kept going through [Y/N]’s laptop, he turned to place the heavy item onto the table since it was starting to get hot from being powered on. As he pushed some items out the way to make room, he accidentally pushed the laptop case off the desk, watching as a small usb  bounced out and fell onto the floor,  sparking Tim's curiosity. What could possibly be inside of that usb?

He grabbed it and plugged it in, initially waiting patiently for it to load. His irritation grew as he watched the loading animation loop over and over and over again, almost teasingly. He made a mental note to buy [Y/N] a better laptop. Perhaps even a whole pc setup so they could play together. 

When the laptop finally gave him access to the contents of the usb, he found a multitude of videos that dated back years before [Y/N] arrived at the Manor. 

He quickly went back to the newer video in the usb and clicked on it, curious as to what these videos had captured.

Tim curiously clicked the play button on the small screen, watching as it started playing. The scene displayed that of a small child, no older than five or six, who he quickly recognised as [Y/N]. They seemed to be in a living room of sorts, though he was just assuming that based on the blurry sofa and coffee table in the background. 

He stared in surprise at the screen as they put the phone on something, probably a shelf or table, to keep it still. Tim laughed a little whenever it kept sliding over, the child's tiny yet menacing voice threatening to throw the phone as they stomped closer to it to prop it back up. This happened several times before they got the right angle. When they finally managed to get the phone to cooperate, he watched as they took a few excited steps backwards, tripping once or twice, before they smiled brightly at the camera.

"So! I just got my first role in a BIG dance recital!! I'm gonna be the uh- uhm I think it's the swan in, uh.. Swan Lake? I think that was what it's called, but anyways I don't care! I'll be a pretty swan!" 

The child twirled around in sheer joy, showing off the sparkly white ballerina outfit, the pretty pearls shimmering in the little sunlight that poured in through a nearby window and the delicate lace shifting with the movement of the dress. The excited spinning halted as [Y/N] jumped a bit upon hearing a voice called their name. As he listened to the gentle lull of the voice, Tim realized it belonged to a woman, though it was unfamiliar to him. 

He laughed when the small child ran to grab the phone, noticing that they didn't stop the recording. Instead, they just ran to the kitchen where he could see a woman standing over the counter cutting some vegetables with her back to the camera, dressed in some simple pajamas that were decorated with stars. She was shorter than average, with long brown hair that lay on her shoulder.

The young dancing prodigy shakily pointed the phone towards the woman, before asking loudly, "So, Miss Mom, are you excited about [Y/N]'s first dance recital?" Their enthusiasm radiated from their voice, bleeding into their movement as the camera just barely captured the woman's face turning and laughing softly at the young child's determined expression. Now that he had a good look at her face, Tim presumed this woman was [Y/N]'s mother based on their similar facial features. 

"So serious! Though, this isn't your first dance recital my little star, you have done many before now." She exclaimed, her shoulders shaking as she smiled brightly at her child.

"Mooooom! This is my first REAL dance recital because I have a big role now!"

As the woman playfully shook her head with a stifled chuckle, smiling down at them, she turned her head to her right, encouraging [Y/N] to follow her line of sight.

"Boris! Tell her!!"

The camera panned over to a much bigger man hunched over a cooking pot, and as he turned his head to look at the woman with a knowing smile, Tim noticed a deep gash along his cheek. No, not a gash, a scar perhaps? This baffled Tim since he knew of the existence of [Y/N]'s mother, but had no recollection of a father in their life. 

"You guyssss, I'm a freaking swan! Do you know how cool swans are?!" 

Tim chuckled softly when he heard little [Y/N] say their version of a bad word, watching with a fond smile as the woman gasped dramatically with a shocked expression while the man turned his head away as if trying to hide his laughter. 

"Little star! Where did you hear such a bad word?”

To this, little [Y/N] paused for a good few seconds before their tiny hand appeared in the frame and gestured to the man, throwing him under the bus in order to avoid punishment. 

"Boris said it earlier when the TV wouldn't work."

Tim watched with a curious smile as  the woman turned her hardened glare to the man, who gave her a nervous look. "Look it was an accident Amelie, I didn't realize [Y/N] was in the room-" The man had a slight accent, possibly Russian.

Before he could finish his sentence, the video got cut off, leaving Tim in a thoughtful silence. So [Y/N]'s mother was called Amelie? How interesting. Still, who exactly was that man?

He quickly went to the web browser on the laptop and searched for [Y/N]’s mother, which wasn't hard since the first thing that popped up were articles of her death and photos of the incident. 

As he searched more articles about her, he noticed a few things: [Y/N] was never mentioned in any of the articles that talked about Amelie during her modeling career or about her having any types of relationships.

While he searched, he did find a few photos of Amelie with Boris, easily recognisable thanks to face scars, but as he could see by the many photos taken by paparazzi and fans, Boris was always by the side looking like a bodyguard. 

Another quick research, about the man this time, and he found out that Boris was with Amelie when she was driving and died on his way to the hospital. 

Tim quickly finished searching and turned off the laptop before grabbing it along the usb to watch more videos about [Y/N], especially since he saw a small folder full of other videos that mostly depicted [Y/N] as a teen, so he wanted to see them in his room and make copies of all the videos to show the others.  

When Tim finally walked out the room along with Duke, Damian finally walked inside the small room, grimacing at the sight of the mess that [Y/N] lives in.

He promptly ignored Jason, who was still reading the books and had tears in his eyes, to focus on more important things, like searching through [Y/N]’s desk drawers and in the closet. 

In the desk drawers he didn't find much, just a few folders containing useless information and school books that Damian ignored, angry that he couldn't find anything in the folders. 

But when he searched the closet, grimacing at the poor quality of the clothes [Y/N] dared to wear that he even made a mental note to buy decent clothing for them when they woke up, he saw a few boxes at the back. 

When he opened the first one he saw a small box full of vials, all labeled with ‘web fluid’, while next to the small box were a few web shooters, at least that's what the label on all of them said. 

He grabbed them all and noticed a folder at the bottom of the box, which contained informations on how to create the web shooters thanks to the grappling hook parts and what to improve in the next model, so Damian assumed those web shooters in the box were old version that [Y/N] didn't use anymore. 

He was impressed at how neat the information in the folder was, all in order and even highlighted when something was important or not, plus small notes added with pencil or post its. 

When he finished reading the information, he put everything back in the box and set it aside to grab another box that was in the back of the closet, finding almost three, maybe four, albums of photos. 

He slowly grabbed one, making sure to not damage anything in the album as he slowly looked through the pages, admiring the photos of a small [Y/N] along with their mother or an unknown man. 

The other two albums contained photos of a woman, he assumed it was [Y/N]’s mother during modeling gigs and from clippings taken on magazines, alongside photos of her with a man, again the same man he kept seeing with [Y/N]. 

He closed the album in frustration and put it back in the box before grabbing the last box in the closet, wanting to see what this had so he could either use it to bond with [Y/N] or to understand why they hate him. 

He understood that [Y/N] hated him, especially after Alfred pointed it out and made everyone see who Spider really was, but he also didn't understand why they hated him the most. 

Yes, he did hurt them pretty badly that they had to find a safe place in this small room but he didn't understand the hate. He did the same with Drake but he didn't hate him. 

As he opened the last box, which he immediately noted was full of dust which meant that [Y/N] didn't really open it much and just kept in the back of the closet to collect dust, he only saw a notebook. 

He slowly picked it up, patting it down a few times to get rid of the dust before opening it to the first page, which read ‘Diary of [Y/N]’. 

He closed it and debated if he should really open it or not before finally opening it, needing to know why they hated him and maybe the diary contained some information about it. 

He started to read the first entries before skipping pages until he came to an entry where his name was mentioned. 

20-03-XXXX 

Dear Diary

Hi, sorry for not writing to you for a few months but many things happened that you wouldn't believe! Well you don't really believe in anything, you’re an object. 

I moved out of my old house and went to live with my father, and yes I know it's weird since mom never mentioned him but I had to move in with him. 

You might be wondering why, well mom and Boris died. The policeman who took me to my father explained everything, they both died in a car crash, he even let me grab everything I needed. I managed to grab all the albums I made with mom and Boris and mom’s favorite jewelry but not much. 

I think auntie is gonna grab her clothes and other objects, I hope she won't sell them. 

Well no more sadness! My father is Bruce Wayne! The billionaire man who made so many things possible in Gotham! 

I am unsure if he knew that I existed, he looked so surprised when the policeman, I think his name was Gordon, explained what happened to mom and why I should stay with him. 

But I got a big ass room! It's even bigger than my old one! Oh I have to ask Alfred, my father's butler and yes, he really has a butler, if I can buy some night stars to put on the ceiling and some new clothes. 

I also have a younger brother! His name is Damian Wayne-Al Ghul! His surname sounds so cool compared to Lawrence! 

Plus he’s arabic! Alfred told me he was raised in a ‘traditional manner’ but I don't know what that means, maybe that means that he’s a prince? 

Oh my god, I have a prince as a brother! That would be so cool! I hope I can be friends with him and the others! I am so excited! 

I do miss mom and Boris but I can't stay sad forever, the consultant in school said so. Plus I adore everyone! They're so cool and fashionable! I want to be like Dick or Tim when I grow up! 

Oh yea I also have some many older brothers! Their names are: Richard but he prefers Dick, I don't understand why, Jason, Tim who is very cool like a Duke by how classy he is and Duke! 

I also have two older sisters, Stephanie and Cadsandra, even though they're not ‘really’ part of the family like Alfred said but I consider them my sisters! They look so cool and Cassandra is so cool, like an assassin or a ninja! 

Damian slowly closed the notebook, using a finger to not lose the page and just thought about what he just read. 

He knew [Y/N] came to the Manor when they were 12, maybe 11, so the entry was maybe a few months after their mom died in an accident with a man, possibly the man he kept seeing in the photos, named Boris. 

But what he read shocked him. They considered him cool and just wanted a friend. They didn't even know about the family's business and just thought everything was cool. 

He quickly shook his head and reopened the notebook to read more, needing to know more about what they thought of him and when it changed. 

15-04-XXXX 

Dear Diary 

You know Damian, the younger brother I told you about almost 5 months ago? About how he's so cool and everything and how I want to be friends with him? 

Well he's not so cool anymore, he keeps hurting me and calling me names, saying things like “you won't replace me, I will be the ultimate Robin”. 

I think I spent more time with Alfred stitching up cuts made by him than everyone else in this Manor. I hate Damian so much!  

Why would I even want to be Robin?! I don't even know who Robin is now since they keep changing hair colors! Why would I be a Robin?! Batman is too scary! 

I just wanted a younger brother, is that so bad to ask for? I understand that I came into their life without much notice but it's not my fault I came here! 

It's that drunk driver's fault! He’s the one who killed my mom and Boris! I don't even want to be here! I would prefer to be with my mom, watching her get ready to do a photoshoot while Boris tells me stories about his time in the secret agencies he was in. 

I hate this Manor, I hate Dick and his excuses for not hanging out with me, Bruce for telling me that I am just someone he’s forced to take care of and not his child and especially Damian! 

I miss mom, I want to hug her one more time and dance with her. 

Why did she go to the supermarket? She could've gone another day! It's all my fault, I should've never let her go with Boris, if I did she would still be here with me. 

Damian stopped reading after that because the writing was almost illegible and in a few parts the ink was smeared because of small droplets of water, most likely tears. 

He felt horrible, even more now that he read about himself in [Y/N]’s eyes and how quickly their feelings for him changed. 

Even now, as he read past passages about himself, he could see how much they adored him even after he hurt them and it felt like knives were being stabbed on his body. 

As he read, he started to feel something wet trailing down his face and when he went to touch his cheek, he didn't saw blood on his fingers like he thought 

He quickly got up and put the diary on the bed before running out of the room, too distraught to stay there as the words written by [Y/N] about him kept circling around his head, taunting him and telling him that it was all his fault. 

He’s the reason why [Y/N] hates everyone in the Manor, he’s the reason why they refused to be a part of the Batfam when they were Spider. He caused this. He made them move into a closet just because he was scared of losing the Robin mantle. 

He ruined everything because of his selfish behavior towards a stupid mantle that you didn't even know belonged to him, and he knew it. 

He collapsed in front of the medbay after finally getting back in the batcave, a bit glad when he saw that Stephanie and Cassandra weren't there to see him crying, and sobbed in front of the room, knowing that he didn't deserve to even enter the room after what he had done to [Y/N]. 

When Bruce saw Damian run out he tried to follow him but stopped, knowing the boy probably needed to be alone and would refuse his attention if he tried to help. 

He nodded when Jason walked out the room and stood in front of the door, wanting to enter but still felt like he didn't deserve to even enter one of the only safe spaces that [Y/N] had in the Manor. 

Bruce kept staring at the room, his thoughts running wild when he saw how small the room was compared to his or even Tim’s room. 

“Alfred, what was this room before [Y/N] moved in it?”

The tiny space looked more fit for a young child, with walls that seemed to curve inwards the longer you stood in there, of which you could only stand if you were under 6ft. 

Posters, pictures and multiple sheets of paper decorated any free space on the aged walls, the rest of the area covered by a wardrobe and a shelf that used to hold a few books that Jason took to his room. 

A large bed sat pressed against the corner of the room, creating a small area of safety with the various pillows and blankets piled up on top of the thin mattress. Clothing was scattered all across the room, alongside all the documents and papers that were scattered around the room, though mostly on and underneath the bed, having likely been kicked under there by [Y/N] after they tripped on it.

The whole room emanated with coziness yet was so small that anyone would feel claustrophobic even just looking in the room. 

And yet [Y/N] had called this room their home, settling in each night to the tiny bed after kicking their clothing somewhere random in the room and slowly slipping into the realm of sleep as they smiled fondly at the figures on their shelf.

"This used to be a storage room."

Alfred interrupted, capturing Bruce's attention and pulling him out of his trance-like state. "We used to put random items like cleaning products and laundry supplies in here, I remember there used to be a cabinet for the detergent over there." He said gently, smiling a little as he gestured to where the small bed now sat. "[Y/N] was delighted when they found this room, practically begging me to stay in here. They told me it seemed cozy, though I will admit I did find it a little odd they wanted such a small room." He told him, chuckling a little towards the end of his sentence. 

"The way their little face lit up in excitement once we got the bed in here, watching them run around the room playing with their figures and hanging up posters. The room was small, sure, but it was more than enough for them.”

Bruce stayed silent after Alfred said that and looked around the room before noticing a small book next to the bed. 

He slowly picked it up and sat on the bed, opening it to the first page and immediately reading ‘Diary of [Y/N]’ on it. He closed it and wondered if he should read it, mentally debating on whether or not he was allowed. 

He decided on reading it when he remembered that he didn't know anything, absolutely nothing about his kid and what happened to them and how they were before they got bit by a spider.  

Bruce knew it was wrong, it was another invasion of [Y/N]’s privacy but he didn't care. He wanted, no he needed to know about them. 

20-05-XXXX (you can change the date with your birthday) 

Dear Diary, this is my first entry in this book that is now called Diary. 

Mom says that I have to practice writing and that I also can use it to express feelings or tell stories that I don't want to tell anyone in this book, so I shall be doing that. 

As of today, my birthday, I am now 7 years old and I have celebrated another birthday with no father, just my mom and Boris. 

If you are wondering, even though you can't since you are an object, I do not know who my father is and Boris is not my dad. 

He told me that when I once called him dad, which made me sad since why do I have to hold this title for a person that has never showed up in my life when Boris is always there for me when I am either sad or feel like I can't do anything? 

This is not fair. I will mom who my dad is and pretend to know why he doesn't want me. I don't even know why he doesn't want me! And I’m 7! 

Well, I’ll tell you when I come back! 

Ok so, mom told me that my father is someone that can't be traced so he’s either a ghost or dead. Which is the same thing. 

Well I don't care, I’ll just tell Boris that he's my dad, even if he doesn't marry mom since she refuses to have other relationships and because Boris told me that he's attracted to other men and not women. 

I don't envy him, boys suck. Especially my ghost dad! He abandoned mom! 

As Bruce finished reading the first passage, he realized that their mother, Amelie, didn't try to paint him as someone evil just because he wasn't there. 

He was also amazed at how serious the first entry was, it was almost a work document but he didn't think too much about it. 

He felt horrible because he remembered all the time he talked bad about Amelie and how she couldn't just do one thing and keep [Y/N] away, not even caring if [Y/N] was in the room or around. 

He knew Amelie, she was one of the models who never tried to flirt with him and spent most of her time talking with her bodyguard, acting like he didn't exist. 

He also remembered that, after that night with her, she never called him until a week or two later to inform him that she was pregnant and how she just wanted child support if he didn't want to be in the child’s life. 

He was incredibly surprised when she called him and even more surprised when she sent him a very well made child support agreement where she just wanted a decent amount of money every month and she will never bother him, she’ll just add him to the birth certificate if something happened to her. 

He quickly shook his head to get rid of the thoughts about Amelie and skipped a few entries in the Diary before stopping at one where his name was mentioned in the first line. 

31-09-XXXX

Bruce Wayne is my father. 

I now know who my father is.. and yet I don't feel anything. 

At first I wondered- why am I not happy? My father is a billionaire and a very famous man in Gotham, shouldn't I be excited and happy to have such a new lavish lifestyle with a loving, caring father?

Then I thought about it and came to a conclusion..

I don't like Bruce Wayne.

My mother and Boris died in a car crash. They were gone and I believed I had just become an orphaned child with no parents or guardians to care for me. 

And then the police told me I had a father - Bruce Wayne. That man looked at me like I was some grotesque animal when the nice policeman told him about what happened and who I was.

I don't like Bruce. 

He looks scary and totally different from what I saw on the TV whenever he was in a program with one of his many children. 

He keeps saying things under his breath, like how my mom had one job and failed at it or how annoying I was because he didn't want me here since I was the reminder of my mom. 

I want to hit him.

It's not her fault. 

How dare he say things about mom! She wasn't perfect, I know that, but nobody is! Just because she didn't know how to cook meat and always had Boris cook anything that was fish or meat doesn't make his hatred for her okay! She was horrible at making drawings with me but she tried to, she put in effort to sit with me and draw anyway!

Why does he hate her so much?! 

Why does he hate me?! 

I don't even want to be here! 

I want my mom back! 

I want Boris back! 

I miss my house, I miss my room! 

I hate this.

I hate everything.

I hate him. 

I hate Bruce Wayne.

Bruce stopped reading after that and just stared at the opened closet, trying to wrap his head around what he read. 

He couldn't believe he did that. No he could believe that he said something like that, he was going through a rough patch with both kids, business and his vigilante job that when [Y/N] suddenly entered his life he didn't do anything to help them adjust or comfort them. 

He also remembered how Amelie was a nice woman when he woke up in her bed, that explained what happened thoroughly for him, how they were both drunk and thankfully Boris took them to her house, and even gave him her business card after she took his so she could contact him if she was ended up pregnant because she knew she wasn't on a safe day and he didn't use a condom. 

He actually admired how gentle she was and how, when she contacted him about her being pregnant and how she wondered if he wanted to be in his child’s life, accepted his refusal and the offer of child support, not even caring about how much money he was gonna give her every month. 

So he felt even more horrible and a downright scumbag when he realized that he insulted one of the many women he respected in front of her child and how he never apologized or tried to make amends. 

Not even the realization about his actions would excuse them, especially because he said those words to a child, a traumatized child who just lost everything and had to be thrown into a house where no one wanted them. 

He slowly flipped through the pages, stopping when he found one of the last entries, which were dated almost 2, maybe 3 years ago. 

08-07-XXXX

Dear Diary 

As stated before, I moved into Wayne Manor and now I am a Wayne. I refuse to take his surname though, I will never give up my mother's last name. 

This will probably be one of my last entries since I will switch to video diaries, mostly to just watch myself and actually explain while talking. 

I have been in this hell that I have to call house for almost 3 years and I hate it. I know that I say it many times but it's true. 

I hate Dick and how he acts like he's the golden child, so righteous and kind to Tim and Damian but when I ask to do anything with him, he just tells me that he's busy. 

Even though I know that those are excuses so he wouldn't have to hang out with me. 

I hate Jason and how he complains that Bruce doesn't love him, but I know that he does. That man loves Jason even if he kills people as Red Hood but doesn't do anything about it. 

I hate Tim. I don't know much about him but I hate him so much because he's so perfect, already a CEO and so good at everything that even if I manage to do something good, I will always be compared to him by Bruce. 

I hate Stephanie, Cassandra and Duke. They never hang out with me, telling me that they're busy when I see them play around together or with others. 

What did I even do to them?! 

I hate Damian and how he feels superior just because he's an Al Ghul and Robin. I hate it. He has everything, Bruce’s and everyone else's love and attention and yet, he still tormented me and scarred me just because I existed. 

I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW THAT BRUCE WAS BATMAN WHEN I FIRST CAME TO THE MANOR.

I hate Bruce Wayne. I hate his perfect TV smile and persona, I hate how he acts like he loves all of his children and yet he has never spent any time with me ever since I came to his Manor years ago. 

I hate how he told Dick about how annoying my voice was after I visited to ask him to sign something for school. How he described my voice as nails on a chalkboard for his ears and how he wished he never had to hear it again. 

But if he wants to, then I shall never talk again. Maybe this will make him happy. 

Bruce slowly looked up when he finished reading that entry, the diary slowly slipping out of his hands and falling onto the floor with a soft thud. 

He couldn't believe that he said something so horrible about a kid, someone he should be protecting, and made them, made his own child, hate their own voice. 

He slowly put his hands on his head and just cried silently, the realization that he was the reason as to why [Y/N] hated the Manor and their own blood, because he was a horrible father to a traumatized child that just wanted a family after losing their own so early.

The manor was quiet, eerily so. Usually it was bursting with life, sound practically reverberated off the walls. But today it was almost silent. Amidst this silence, a child finally wakes up from their slumber in a room in the Manor. 

You slowly opened your eyes, hissing when the blinding lights coming from the window immediately hit your face like a rocket, making you try to move your arm to cover your face. 

You slowly looked down to your arm when you noticed the difficulty at moving it and found it in a cast that almost enveloped all your right arm. 

You looked at the other arm and sighed in relief when you saw that it was just bandaged up and not in a cast. 

You did notice that you had an IV in your hand, making you sit up despite the pain you felt all over your body and managed to pull it out with the casted arm. 

After you pulled out the IV, you noticed that you were in a far bigger room compared to the small one you had before. You looked at the shelves and noticed that your worn out books were replaced with new ones while the photos and posters were in the same places but with more space. 

As you looked around, you could see that the furniture was the same, confirmed by the scratches on the closet, which was the closest to you, that you accidentally did while trying the first prototype of the web shooter in the room which resulted in you throwing the flaming machinery at the closet before destroying it as you tried to put out the fire before Alfred noticed. 

You laughed a little at the memory of your panicking before almost doubling over in a fit of cough, your throat burning when you finally calmed down. 

You slowly moved the blankets off of you after you calmed down enough to think rationally, understanding that you weren't in your room anymore but still in the Manor thanks to the walls and the colors in the room, which were totally different from the ones you had in your own room. 

You ignored how both of your legs were bandaged up and slowly got off the bed, using the IV stand to keep yourself standing as you wobbled to the desk, noticing almost all the papers you had around your room were now in neat piles, making you extremely angry since you immediately knew that Bruce and his kids entered your room, probably because of Alfred interference. 

You pulled away from the desk, still holding onto the IV stand and coughed a little, noticing that the shirt you were wearing was starting to get blood on it. 

You slowly raised the shirt and noticed that the bandages on your chest and sides were full of blood, but you ignored it and went for the door, needing to get out of here since you knew that if you were in a different room it meant that they all knew you were Spider. 

When you finally made it to the door, your vision was already starting to get blurry from all the blood you were losing. You finally opened it but fainted before you even managed to take a step out, the last thing you saw was the silhouette of a man running up to you, his face blurry and his voice muffled. 

Tag List

@mellowdragoncollective @mfnqueen1 @mindscape123 @missikkkj @missmannequin @mylittlediarys-stuff @montelna @mushroomstems @mottysith

@oneofakindkindalassposts @ohnoivefallen @nighwingsdiscordkitten @nightw-izhu @nebuluma @perfectparadisegardener @orderdchaosthings2

@rafes @r3va-dwme @proffesorbunny @plsfckmedxddy @pi1nklOver @ratchetprime211 @rainnyydaysworld

@roseyloveschocolate @rissareader @reaperxxxxzz @realifezompire @readeraona @sailortoast @sackofsadstuff @ruiroku @roseyloveschocolate @sharks-r-cool-l @samimargo

@sunshine-skz @speckle-meow-meow @sirenetheblogger @simpingfor-wakasa @shintax-error @madokamagicaa @umbros-world @tiredstarcerberuslamb @theitchbbbb

@that-bad-b1tch @wardencatseeyou @victoria1676 @unknownloner1345 @yandere-city2

@xenayami @www-c4sper @wtvbabes @duck-you @yasumin-suzuran

[deathbxnny]

hello, may I request jing yuan with a teen!reader who is jealous of yanqing? - they are around the same age as him, a new cloud knight who is an orphan, they try really hard to get the generals attention, even making him tea, buying presents etc. they want to be like yanqing, and are a bit jealous of the relationship with jy and yanqing, so they always try to prove themselves, even sacrificing food and sleep for their training, and are reckless during missions (bonus points if yanqing or jing yuan is present at the mission, they would literally fight until they pass out)

Oooh, I really love this request, Anon!! Thank you for the idea, and I hope you'll like this! (Also, I'm sorry this took so long... my final exams were out for blood, but I'm thankfully nearly done with them...)<33

Content: Reader is an Orphan, angst, hurt comfort, father figure Jing Yuan, mentions of near death of reader, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!!

((Not proofread))

You always compared yourself to Yanqing, wondering what the difference between you two was that made him the generals clear favorite. It infuriated and frustrated you to no end. It took up most of your thoughts and feelings. It eventually just consumed you as a whole once you realised that the clear difference must've been strength.

At first, you attempted to get the generals attention through more mundane things like bringing him tea, starting conversations, or giving him trinkets you made yourself. He appreciated them all with kind smiles, and it made you happy to be the recipient until his focus shifted back to the blonde boy rather quickly after. You'd stand there watching the two talk so naturally with eachother, eyes burning with misplaced anger and rage, which made you think of other ways to get the older man's interest in you.

You and Yanqing were the same age and had similar backgrounds, but his skills were always far more advanced than yours. He was powerful and a force to be reckoned with even when he was so young. That was a fact. And you... weren't exactly that. You were strong, yes, but you weren't good enough. So the only logical next step was training until you could be like him... no even better than him.

Your days, therefore, were only spent with training of all kinds that went on for hours. You began not caring about sleep, nor food, nor anything else. The goal was clear. But it was still not enough. You knew you had to do so much more and so much better. So excelling in your missions was a must.

You and Yanqing often went on missions together despite not necessarily getting along fully. He never understood your issue with him but didn't comment on it. So he was very much surprised, when you pushed him away during one mission and nearly killed yourself during a violent attack by a marastruck soldier. Your strength and speed saved his life. But yours was barely hanging on when you were quickly taken away by medics.

You were startled to see the general at your bedside, calmly patting your head to tell you that everything was fine and that you'd be on your feet again soon. He thanked you for saving Yanqing, and whilst you could feel the lecture on the tip of his tongue, he kept back for later. He was proud of you... just don't do that again.