#i love having to rely on my parents for a car so i can go to work and for a house so i have somewhere to live be ause i have no money

[the-kestrels-feather]

.

[faethfigueroth]

it's funny how angry my dad gets at the fact that there is nothing he can do anymore to scare me. like this guy wants so bad for me to be afraid of him but he could literally try to choke me out and i still wouldn't be afraid of that geriatric fuck

[livwritesstuff]

“Steve,” Eddie mutters, “Stop it, you’re staring.”

Steve is staring, eyes fixed on a family sitting in a cluster of seats two rows ahead of them on the commuter rail — a mom and dad with three kids, the oldest no older than ten, the youngest four or five. They’re not too much older than Steve and Eddie’s own kids (who are seven, five, and two), and by the looks of the princess dresses and mouse ears and branded souvenir bags they’re also on their way home from the afternoon Disney on Ice show at the TD Garden.

“That mom,” Steve says, addressing Eddie even though his gaze doesn’t shift away from the unsuspecting targets of his relentless judginess, “is upset because her kids are whining and misbehaving, but they asked for food and she said no, and they said they were bored and she ignored them.”

In Steve’s defense (not that Eddie would actually say any of this to him; he doesn’t need the egging on), his assessment isn’t exactly incorrect. All three of those kids are either colossally melting down or just on the verge of doing so, and both of their parents are mostly ignoring them.

“God, and they’re gonna grow up learning they can’t rely on their parents for help,” Steve continues, “I just...I just don’t get why we had to go through all those evals and interviews and home visits and shit before we were deemed suitable parents when any idiot straight couple can just have a kid with no regulation whatsoever.”

“Steve,” Eddie says through gritted teeth as he glances at their own daughters to make sure they aren’t eavesdropping (they’re not – Moe and Robbie are sitting by the window and playing with the toys they’d gotten to pick out during intermission, and Hazel is halfway to asleep in Steve’s lap), “My love — little pitchers.”

Steve only shrugs, but he does drop the subject for the rest of the train ride.

The universe must hate Eddie (or love Steve) because that family gets off at the same station as them. Hazel is completely sacked out by then, and Steve had taken her while Eddie manned the older two and they’re busy running ahead of him to the car so there’s literally nothing he can do when Steve detours away from them to follow a few yards behind the other family.

When he finally makes his way back over to them, it’s with a gleeful grin on his face.

“I knew it.” Steve says with a gleeful grin, “I knew they had to be shitty parents.”

Eddie eyebrows flew up, because – seriously, the fucking audacity on this guy.

“You know what I always say – you can either be a good parent or have a clean car, and that car was fucking spotless.”

“Steve Harrington.”

[muxshwriting]

devil town

Erik Lehnsherr x daughter!reader

summary: Erik didn't realise he was a father, but as soon as he did, he became the best one || warnings: nightmares, mentions of death || word count: 918 || masterlist

You hadn’t grown up knowing your father, the same way Erik had lived not knowing he had a daughter. But when you, a mutant with the bizarre ability to control metal, Professor Xavier called in a favour from an old friend.

You’re standing in front of the mansion when he arrives, shifting between your feet. "So you can control metal?"

The man, Erik, removed his sunglasses. "Well, aren’t you direct. I’m assuming you’re the girl Charles called me about."

"Yeah." You shrug. "You're supposed to help me master my gifts or however the Professor puts it."

Erik laugh, actually laughed. "He does have a rather bizarre way of saying things, doesn't he?"

"Yes! Finally someone agrees with me! I mean, he's great and all but he's so weird."

You and Erik got along like a house on fire from then on. He pushed you past your limits, proving time and time again that you could do what you didn’t think was even possible. Before either of you released, it had been three months and Erik was still living at the school, living the lifestyle he once condemned.

One day he comes down to the training room to find you fiddling with a coin between your fingers, a nervous tick you’d picked up from him. "What's wrong?"

"My Mom's coming to visit for parent weekend." You tell him.

"And you're upset about that?"

You shrug. "She's very protective and is gonna be on my ass all weekend. It’s all going to be about what I’ve learnt, what I’m going to do next. Or worse, she’ll grill be about the boys here and ask which one I like best." You shudder at the thought of your mother playing matchmaker again.

The weekend grew closer and closer and before you knew, your mom was climbing out of her car and enveloping you in a rib-crushing hug. The bombardment of questions began immediately. You don’t think your mom stopped asking questions the entire time you gave her a tour. It was never ending.

When you reached the front of the mansion once again, Erik was stood by the front doors. You sent him an expression, begging him to save you. He chuckled slightly as you approached him.

"Mom, I want you to meet Erik, he’s been helping me with my powers."

A look of recognition flashed across Erik’s face as he shook your mother’s hand. Your mother, however, was frozen in place, staring at him. "Honey, this is Erik." She said slowly.

"I know this is Erik, he's been here for the past three months."

"This is the Erik I met 17 years ago..." She widened her eyes. "The Erik from the night I…"

"What?" Your brain restarts. "You mean-" It was as if you only heard what you wanted to, struggling to comprehend what was actually happening. "I can't be his daughter."

Erik finally entered the conversation. "Do you not want to be my daughter?" He asked carefully. 

"I don't mean it like that. I would love to have a dad, someone to rely on. But it's just you- you-"

"I what?"

"You're busy." You reason. "You have more important things to worry about than dealing with me."

"You're my daughter. There's no dealing with you. I'll look after you as much as I can, but you've done a brilliant job so far." He replied honestly. "I'll be here when you need me."

"Really?"

"I’m not going to force myself into your life, it’s your life." Erik quietly said. "I’ll be wherever you need me."

★--~-~--★

You jolt awake, a sticky sheen of sweat covering your entire body. You could see your breath in front of you, the morning air cold stinging your skin. 

Erik! He had just... he was dead. He couldn't be dead right? You had to know. You rounded the corner and quietly knocked on the door. Your heartbeat was like thunder on a silent night and you could barely hear anything over the thrumming. There was no answer to your knock, despite the gentle glow of light under the door.

Without thinking, you push the door open slowly, hoping to see something that told you Erik was alive, that you weren’t crazy and that your dream wasn't real. No Erik. Not even a tussled bedsheet or a crinkled pillow.

"Erik?" Your voice was uncertain as you quietly spoke his name. "Dad?"

A flurry of movement in your peripheral vision had you turning to the other side of the room. Erik was sat at his desk, working over documents of some kind by lamp-light. He frowned as he caught sight of your panicked state.

"Y/N? Are you okay?"

You turned to him, a crazed look still in your eyes. You didn't want to think about what you looked like. Hair tangled, covered in sweat, still in your night clothes with a robe and your erratic breath still audible. 

Erik took one look at you and stepped closer, his eyes softening. "Are you okay?" He asked again, his tone softer as he tried to calm you.

"You-" You heaved a breath. "I watched you di-'' You couldn't finish the word but you didn’t have to. Erik knew exactly what you meant.

He reached forward and pulled you into him, holding you tight. "I'm alive. I'm okay." He whispered. "It wasn't real."

"It felt so real."

"I know. But you're safe now. It's over. I'm here." He paused slightly, glancing down at the vulnerable girl in his arms. "Dad's here."

[psychesalcove]

„ i took a little journey into the unknown, come back changed I can feel it in my bones

𝜗𝜚 luke castellan x gn reader

synopsis ; headcanons for going on a quest with our favorite hermes boy, luke castellan!! (not possessed by kronos au!!)

requested: yes, by anon !!

⚠️: not proofread AT ALL, being on a demigod quest, being injured, stealing cars, luke being a lil mean but then apologizing, mentions of eating, joking an British ppl (if you're sensitive to that sorta stuff ig)

💬: thanks for the request babe!! I hope you enjoy — I added a bit of writing at the end that isn't headcanons bc i felt like it so I hope that's okay!! Love you!

⚚ going on a quest with luke will for sure feel like a fever dream

⚚ he tries to act all tough and shit and then he'll randomly turn to you and be like: "I'm kinda scared just so you know"

⚚ he's such a dork omg 😭😭

⚚ BUT he's also really good at combat, so you don't have to worry as much about monsters getting to you when you're with him

⚚ he would probably hot wire a car so the 2 of you had a way of transportation besides walking

⚚ lukes also probably really good at talking with people and making them give him things (being a child of hermes and such)

⚚ he would also make sure beforehand that you had more than enough ambrosia and nectar,

⚚ "just to be safe" he says knowing dam (see what i did there) well he'll probably be the one getting hurt

⚚ also, if he didn't end up getting you guys a car, and you're on the side of the road, he will follow the sidewalk rule and make sure you're never by the road

⚚ I also feel like he would be really good at telling if people are monsters in disguise if he pays attention to them, so you can have a higher chance to avoid them

⚚ luke also def has moodswings of being extremely serious and making sure you are on track and being completely distracted by everything

⚚ if the two of you do come across a monster, he will not hesitate to kill it as long as your safe

⚚ and, if you do ever get hurt, either from a monster or something else, he'll turn into your parent 100%

⚚ "yknow how stupid that was of you to do? Did you like not think about what could happen to you or what could've happened? Do you just not think about that sort of stuff in your head?"

⚚ yeah my guy can be a bit rude

⚚ but lukes just expressing that he loves you and doesn't want anything to happen to you while you're out there

⚚ he would realize later that he was being a dick and would apologize: "I didn't mean what I said, just so yknow, I care about you. i don't want to see you do stupid things without thinking first."

⚚ if the two of you couldn't find a hotel or somewhere to sleep, he would happily give you his sleeping bag if you show any signs that you're cold -> and he would 100% give you his jacket if he noticed you were cold as well!!

⚚ it would probably just end up with the two of you cuddling though lmao

⚚ he's also probably really good at bandaging injuries because of all the times he's hurt himself while training

⚚ so when you do get hurt, he'll bandage it for you (not as good as a child of apollo, but it's the thought that counts)

⚚ I mentioned this in another post, but I feel like luke would absolutely suck at reading or trying to understand any type of map, so do not rely on him for that

⚚ he'll look at the map for a good 10 minutes and then point in a direction saying that's where you need to go and it's the way you just came

⚚ luke: "love, I think that I found the way to the nearest gas station" and you look and where he's saying and you're like: "hon, you know that way is just thick woods for miles, right?"

⚚ and then he'll roll his eyes and get all sassy that he was wrong about it

⚚ jokingly of course

⚚ let's say you hurt your arm or something like that,

⚚ luke will gladly tie your hair up (if it's long enough) or brush it for you if it makes it easier

⚚ like the gentleman he is

⚚ he would also make sure that you got enough food, and will even give you his food if he notices that you're still hungry

⚚ if you guys were far enough from any cities at night, you two will definitely stargaze

⚚ I feel like luke would secretly be such a nerd about space, so he'll start pointing out different constellations, stars, and planets you guys can see

⚚ he'll also be really smart with the money you guys have,and I feel like him being one of the older campers let's him have that maturity over the other campers

༉‧₊˚.

the dimly lit diner casted a yellow glow across both yours and lukes face as you took your seat at a booth. you and like had been on the quest for around a week now, and so far, nothing extreme had happened.

it was a simple quest after all, just retrieving an item that iris had lost. the quest had taken you to a more unpopulated town surrounded by woods. being in a less populated area had its drawbacks, but it also had good qualities.

monsters would be more common and would be able to find you and luke easier, but less mortals saw you two; which meant less police reports and not being a fugitive–which is something both of you were trying to avoid.

"so what do you think you'll get?" luke asked you, snapping you out of your thoughts. he had already looked through the worn down menu, you figured, looking at how it was neatly placed back down on the table and unopened.

"probably just some waffles and hot chocolate," you said, briefly scanning the menu in your hands seeing what was available. luke nodded. "how about you,?" you asked, putting down the menu.

"a burger and some hot tea," he said. you snorted at his response.

"you gonna start speaking in a english accent when you get that tea?" you said jokingly, smiling lightly when you saw him roll his eyes playfully at your statement.

"oh definitely, going to fully embrace that part of me with some tea," he said, continuing the joke. "but, on another note, how do you think we go about handling where to go next?" he asked, motioning his head twords your bag where the map was held: as luke wasn't trusted with it anymore.

"how about we talk about that when my stomach doesn't feel like it's going shrink and die," you said as a waiter; who was probably in her 80s, headed twords your booth.

𖹭 song from title: meet me in the woods – lord Huron 𖹭

[daddypriceugh]

Trouble

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Alright, so this is a little something I wrote some time ago.

I hope y'all like it :) i'll start writing more stuff soon as I have more free time now!!

Tw: some curse words but all in one nothing major

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"He's definitely your son"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think you know it"

The air in the car was thick and tense as you and your husband drove to your son's school. Reason for it was the phone call you got 30 minutes ago, stating that he got himself into trouble with a classmate.

You knew that your son was a bit different when it came to emotions. He was just like his father, quiet and reserved, but more repulsive. You of course denied that he got that from you.

The car came to a stop and Simon turned off the engine, body turning towards you. He had a neutral look on his face but you knew him better than that. When you told him about the call, he took it in better than you did. He seemed fine with it and that made you mad.

"You okay?" He asked, hand reaching for your cheek. You let him put it there.

"To be honest, i don't know. I just don't know how to react." He hummed in response, seeming to  understand your troubles.

"That's alright" he whispered "neither do I but we will know how to handle it" His palm was smoothing over your cheek, trying to give you any comfort. You smile at that.

"Yeah. Let's go then"

You were now sitting in the headmaster's office, desperately trying to not rip his head of. "And therefore I think that your son has some kind of mental problem"

Your body tensed at this sentence, anger spread through your body. How dare he say something like that? Your son is perfectly fine!

"Mr. Miller I think your overstepping a line right now." Simon's voice interrupted your thoughts. "Our son literally helped a friend that got bullied by that football idiot, how in hell does that have to do something with mental health?"

"Well, Mr. Riley from what I know you weren't exactly a steady father figure he could rely himself on. Whether it be your job-caused absence or your own mental state, your son had to deal with his emotions alone."

That's it. Know he reached your limit.

"And how the fuck do exactly know that huh?! Did one of the other parents tell you that? Well guess what, my son grows up in a loving family on which he can definitely rely on! I do not and will not take and crirism and insult from a man that clearly doesn't even know who the actual problem in this situation is. And spoiler, it's not my son but that bully that you just seem to fucking ignore!"

Mr. Miller's eyes widened at your outburst, clearly not expecting you to say someone like that. You felt Simon's hand reaching for your own under the table, giving it a quick squeeze.

"And if you ever tell my husband that he's not in a perfect mental state, than prepare for the worst! And now if you excuse us, we would like to take our son home with us now."

With that you stood up from the chair and made your way towards the door to open it, Simon quick to follow you.

You were greeted by your son standing in the hallway awkwardly with a black eye. He smiled at you and immediately engulfed you in a hug.

You pressed him closer to you, showing him that you care. You part after a minute. Your husband wrapped an arm around your shoulders and lead you towards the exit, your son not far in front of you.

Simon tilted his head to you ear, whispering.

"You do know that we will probably have to change school after that conversation"

A small laugh escaped your lips.

"Yeah maybe. But let that be a problem for tomorrow okay?"

"Of course, my love"

You two shared a small kiss and continued to walk to your car.

You are a happy family and that's all that matters.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Tips for improvements are welcome!!!

Please ignore grammar mistakes English isn't my first language ♧

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

[brucewaynehater101]

Hemlo! Here are some sparkles and hearts for all the delicious posts and answers!! ✨️💕❤️💖✨️✨️✨️💕❤️💖✨️✨️💕❤️💖✨️✨️💕❤️💖✨️✨️💕❤️💖✨️✨️💕❤️💖✨️✨️💕❤️💖✨️✨️💕❤️💖✨️ ✨️

I also have ✨️Questions✨️! In Tim being Bruce's Father Figure AU/headcanon, how do you think Tim's 16th birthday will play out? Will Bruce even plan it? And if he does, will this AU's Alfred go with it? How differently do you think Tim will go about tackling Bruce's lesson on paranoia? And how do you think he'll discipline Bruce after all is said and done? (I am sorry for the many questions 😅😅😅)

The sparkles are really cute. Also, don't know if it was on purpose, but urban dictionary says "hemlo" is how dog's pov says hi???

(Also, I love questions and asks so much. I sometimes take a bit to respond [cause I work nights, so my sleep schedule is whenever I can when I don't work], but I genuinely love all of them).

As far as Tim's 16th birthday, fuck. Alright. I guess this AU/hc can get some more angst. It's been too light and funny lately. Why not?

Okay.

~~~

Tim stares at the object that started it all. It's perched innocently on his desk, but the teen wants nothing more than to shatter it into dusty remains.

Bruce, his son that he willing took responsibility of, his son of three years, thought it was fit to cause Tim to have a mental breakdown. Bruce isn't aware of the true nature of their relationship. Bruce thought it was fit to cause rampant paranoia in a child.

Where had Tim gone wrong?

He thought Bruce was getting better.

Were the sticker charts, the car rides for sleep, the persistent checking for injuries, and the forced self care the wrong moves? Was Tim too harsh? Too soft? Where had Tim failed his son so that he thought this was an acceptable and appropriate set of actions? Why did Bruce do this to him?

He doesn't know.

And Alfred. He thought the two of them were on the same page when it came to parenting Bruce. Were the many discussions over tea, the late night baking, the aid around the house, and the chats during gardening for naught? They were supposed to rely on one another, inform the other when Bruce was going too far, and stop the man. Tim had so many fucking conversations with Alfred on permissive parenting and being a bystander. He thought they were in agreeance.

Not only did Alfred fall back to old and wrongful ways, but he was now an active participation in Bruce's emotional abuse and manipulation. Can Tim even trust Alfred to protect Bruce's kids from Bruce? Was Tim just special?

He doesn't know if it is worse for Alfred to target Tim specifically or for the older man to allow such actions against all of Bruce's children. Both thoughts are unbearable.

The man had the audacity to joke about Tim being of age after this clusterfuck, as if Tim hadn't been an adult in a child's body parenting an adult nearly three times his age. As if Tim hadn't aged a decade in the last three years. As if Tim hadn't done enough.

Gods, Tim is tired. He doesn't think reddit can help him out of this either.

Tim brushes a finger against the offending object as his face screws up in overwhelming grief, frustration, and betrayal. The smooth edges of the cube are cold, and his face feels hot.

He won't cry.

Bruce is a bastard, a man-child who criticized Tim for believing in time travel (as if they both hadn't seen it happen before).

It's infuriating and heartbreaking, but it's not the end. Tim can still fix this. He'll be more vigilant this time as he screws the errant pieces of Bruce's morality and judgment back together. He'll study more parenting books, attend more psychology online courses, and find a therapist he can ask parenting questions to anonymously. There's still more Tim can do.

He can still save his son from himself.

There's still time.

Tim pockets the reminder of his failures towards his son as he goes to Bruce.

He won't ask Bruce to apologize.

He can't.

It's Tim's fault, after all.

[reikunrei]

feeling incredibly averse to posting this but i'm just gonna drop my kofi link here in case anyone wants to help me get out of my increasingly shitty situation living with my parents

more info below ig

after having given my parents nearly $100k over the last four years, i'd love to be able to actually leave. my future job situation is still up in the air (i've submitted for about a dozen positions and the only one i've heard back from and interviewed for hasn't gotten back to me yet), and i haven't been able to build up any savings because, again, i was (and still am) helping my family afford rent and bills, and probably the taxes my parents are behind on, but if i think about that, i'll get too angry. no joke, i've given my family, at the bare minimum, 85% of my income over the last 4 years. the rest of it has gone toward medical stuff and, now, my car

at this point, with the combo of my mom refusing to lower her standards and my dad's seeming refusal to hunt for a new full time job, i don't see how they won't continue to bleed me dry. my dad even has a bad habit of taking money out of my old savings account that he's a joint owner on or whatever from when i got it set up when i was 16, even when i stopped actively putting money in it, so now any time it gets its automated $1 transfer from my checking account, he'll just take that $1 without consulting me. i'm not exaggerating, even if it has $1-2 in it, it'll be gone within a week

i've even put off starting on testosterone because of this. i wanted to start it like 3 years ago, but kept putting it off because of money issues and wanting to save as much as possible. i got really close to actually starting it this year, but because of how messy everything is, i put it off again bc having one more thing on my plate, especially when my parents are already weird about me being trans, was not something i wanted to deal with

not to mention, we're still currently not living under a lease in our house that we're, as far as i'm aware, still tens of thousands of dollars behind in rent on (again, my dad refuses to disclose our financial position honestly with any of us) and it's developed many, many issues bc the landlord, even before we were behind on rent, is shit and refuses to actually fix anything. and my dad loves to just ignore things unless we beg him to do something

i'd love to be on my own (in the, much more affordable, midwest) by the end of summer. i by no means want to rely on donations and i have other avenues i'm working with to make money (i still have my current full time job, but i'm going through my old belongings and selling a lot online), but i'll take any help i can get atp because i'm truly at my wits end. i'd start doing art commissions again if i could, but doing that from 2020-2022, partially on top of my full time job, absolutely wrecked my right hand and i'm still in enough pain that i can't make it a regular activity

idk how much else there is to say. there's more i could say but... i don't really wanna air all my dirty laundry here. i'm miserable in so many ways and it's just become increasingly clear that my dad expects me to constantly cover his ass. my younger brother gives money too, but he manages to go on big cross-country and overseas trips with friends, so i think i've been stuck with the burden of giving the most money. there's so many more things going on in the world rn and everyone is stretched thin so i don't expect much, or anything, but. idk. might as well throw it out there, right?

i’ve also since taken down the gfm i set up last year when we got our first eviction notice bc, while we still need the money, i don’t feel right keeping it up for multiple reasons, including “i don’t want to give any of that money to my family” and it feels too… serious to keep it up when i could just throw out my kofi instead

i just want to make sure i have some sort of safety net to catch me if i move before anything job-wise is finalized. i need to be able to afford a place to live for at least a month so i can job-search while physically being in the area i wanna move to, which would ultimately make it easier for me to find a job at all. i'm working on being more firm with giving less money so i can actually have the means to move and be safe and comfortable, but... that never lasts long in this house

anyway. that's it, i guess. thanks for reading

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Heeeeeeyyy. I don't know if your taking requests or not, so if not then just ignore this and I'm sorry. I recently got into your blog and I LOVE the way your write. I was wondering if you could 2003 Raph x mute reader who is the adopted niece of Mrs. Morrison (the blind woman Raph helps). Reader got in a car crash with some friends one night and her vocal cords got permanently damaged. Parents can't afford to house her due to medical bills and sent her to live with her aunt. Reader is really gentle and kind and just the picture of feminine grace and maturity. I imagine Raph would go visit Mrs. Morrison and she would want to introduce reader and reader and Raph would just look at eachother like 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️👁️👄👁️

Mrs. Morrison’s Niece (Angst/Fluff)

2003!Raphael x mute!reader

A/N: Thank you so much! I'm so happy that you like my writing❤️💕 But now about this one; the only way I know of where a blind person and a mute person can communicate is using tactile sign language. I do not know tactile sign language myself, and therefore I hope the communication shown between Mrs. Morrison and the reader can be considered somewhat accurate, given the amount of knowledge I have. Hope you enjoy❤️🐢

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

Warnings: Mentioning of a car crash, mentioning of damage to vocal cord, mentioning of poverty, a non tactile sign language user describing tactile sign language.

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

Mrs. Morrison was a nice old lady, and though she could be a little naive at times, Raphael quite liked her. She was sweet, soft spoken, and cared about every creature she came across. Even Raphael. That still surprised him from time to time how nice she could be, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

It wasn’t uncommon for Raphael to come and visit Mrs. Morrison for tea or even dinner. White visiting, he would help her clean and get the house in order. A task that sadly had gotten harder for the poor old woman as she grew older, causing her to rely more and more on the kindness of people like Raphael. Her blindness didn’t help much, causing her to stay at home most of the time, only venturing out to get groceries.

One evening during dinner, Mrs. Morrison told him about her family. Her beloved dead husband, who’s picture she kept framed both in her living room and by her bedside, and her extended family that lived out of state. Raphael listened closely, while keeping close attention to Lucy, the white cat that had decided to sleep on his foot. Mrs. Morrison had a little sister she sadly didn’t get to see very often, given the geographical distance between them. This sister had a husband and daughter who she loved dearly. Other than her late husband, they were the closest family she had. And this broke Raphael’s heart. The thought of this poor old lady living alone with her cat. Everytime Raph thought about him, it made him sad. That was one of the many reasons why he had given her his number, so she could call whenever she needed someone to talk to. And call she did.

Mrs. Morrison never called too often, and when she did call, it was mainly to hear how Raphael was doing and if he was eating enough, or invite him over for yet another meal. Sometimes he could hear Lucy meow in the background, causing Raph to jokingly say that the friendly cat was missing him. Mrs. Morrison found that highly amusing.

One day Mrs. Morrison called Raphael and invited him over for dinner that evening, just like she normally would when she invited him over. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that would let Raphael know that this day would be any different than the rest.

Just like Raphael always did, he knocked on Mrs. Morrison’s back alley door and patiently waited for her to open the door. She came to the door and opened it, letting Lucy make her way to Raphael, before rubbing her head against his ankle.

“Good evening, Mrs. Morrison”, Raphael said, smiling as he took Lucy up in his hands. He sometimes wondered if she could smell Klunk on him. Maybe he should bring him one day.

“Raphael!”, Mrs. Morrison smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so glad you could come! Come in! Come in!”

“Of course, Mrs. Morrison”, Raphael smiled, following the old lady into her apartment, letting Lucy run into the living room before he turned to close the door.

“(Y/N)! Sweetheart! Please come and help me get Raphael seated”, Mrs. Morrison said, as she made her way through the living room.

Raph turned from the closed door, staring after Mrs. Morrison in fear. There was someone else in her house? Oh no, that sweet old lady. She had no idea about Raphael’s true nature, so why would she see anything wrong in having other people in the house. Crud! This was surely going to end badly for Raph.

But as you walked out of the kitchen with a small smile on your face, washcloth still in your hand, ready to greet the guest at the door, all of Raphael’s fears washed away. His shoulders slumped as he took in your face, feeling his guts doing funny jumps and his knees going slightly weak.

You however jumped at the sight of the mutant turtle standing at the door. Unsure of what to do, you started fidgeting with the washcloth in your hand.

“(Y/N)”, Mrs. Morrison said, her hand finding your shoulder. “This is Raphael I told you about. Raphael, this is my niece, (Y/N)”.

You did not say a word. All you did was stare at Raphael. Starting was nothing knew for the red clad turtle, yet there was something about your gaze that made Raphael feel things he had never felt before.

“Uhm… Nice to meet ya, (Y/N)”, he managed to get out, stretching out a hand for you to shake. A little unsure you took his hand, giving it a small shake. But still no words. That confused Raphael a bit, yet he kept his mouth shut. He knew better than to start asking people why they wouldn’t talk to him.

You, Raphael and Mrs. Morrison moved into the kitchen, where Raphael and Mrs. Morrison took a seat at the table, while you continued your cooking. Raph couldn’t help but cast glances in your direction as he listened to whatever Mrs. Morrison was telling him about. But the moment your eyes met, Raphael almost jumped out of his shell before quickly avoiding your eyes, his cheeks burning hot. You too turned away, your face pink in a slight blush.

At one point you left the kitchen to go get something in a room on the other side of the living room. He watched you leave, before jumping at the sound of Mrs. Morrison’s voice.

“She’s nice, don’t you think, Raphael?”, Mrs. Morrison said, smiling in his direction as if she knew he had been looking after you.

“Uhm… yeah, she is”, Raph said, fidgeting with his fingers under the table. “If ya don’t mind me asking, Mrs. Morrison, but… is she okay?”

Mrs. Morrison sighed, her shoulders fell as an expression of sadness washed over her face. “Poor (Y/N), God bless her soul. The sweet thing was so unlucky to end up in a car crash with some of her friends, where her vocal cord sadly got permanently damaged”.

“I’m… really sorry to hear that”, Raphael said, his gaze turning towards the living room. He could hear you move around in the room on the opposite side.

“She has not had it easy afterward”, Mrs. Morrison sighed once more. “My sister and her husband sadly aren’t doing too great on the finances. I don’t blame them. These are hard times. But that sadly has to cost my sweet niece. The medical bills have been too much for them, and her parents don’t have the money to house them all, especially not now. Therefore we decided it would be best if she came and lived with me”.

“It must really be heard for her”, Raph said, more to himself than the old lady sitting at the table.

“It is”, Mrs. Morrison sighed. “I may not be able to see it, but even I know she’s sad. Who wouldn’t be after something like that?” Mrs. Morrison paused for a moment. “That’s why I called you, Raphael. You were so nice to help me out when I needed help, so maybe you can help (Y/N) a little? I’m not asking you to do much more than keep her company. I think she could really use someone other than her old aunt around her”.

Raphael jumped in his seat when you returned to the kitchen. He watched as you lightly poked Mrs. Morrison’s shoulder to catch her attention. You held out our hands for her to feel, as you moved them in signs. Mrs. Morrison nodded with a smile.

“In the cupboard on the left, sweetheart”, Mrs. Morrison said, smiling as you clapped on the shoulder as a thank you. Raphael felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of your smile. He couldn’t deny how beautiful your smile was.

During the dinner the chatting was light. At least from Raphael’s side. He sat quietly and listened at Mrs. Morrison’s words, all while throwing glances your way. You were smiling and nodding at your aunt's words, tapping on the table to let her know that you did so.

Raphael couldn’t help but feel fascinated by you. Sure, he had seen pretty women around New York City, but none of them ever struck him the way you did. You seemed so sweet and soft, yet your eyes shone with a maturity rarely seen before. Maybe it was because of the things you had been through. It had hardened you and matured you, yet you still seemed so friendly. Maturity wasn’t the only thing shining in your eyes. A shimmer. A light of sorts. Something Raphael couldn’t quite place, yet it drew him in- oh crud, you were looking at him. You had seen him stare at you. Oh crud! Shell fucking shell!

But before Raphael could let panic take him, you gave him a little smile. A little calm friendly smile. For a moment it felt like time stilled as you smiled at him, your expression telling him more than words ever had.

After dinner, Raphael helped you clean off the table. You gave him an appreciative smile as he started cleaning the plates in the sink. He said no words, finding that the communication with your eyes was enough, and somehow also strangely comforting.

After the two of you had cleaned the kitchen, it was time for Raph to go home. You and your aunt followed him to the door, where he told Mrs. Morrison goodnight as he moved from the apartment and out in the alley.

“Say hey to your brothers from me”, she said, smiling big. “They sound like some nice young men!”

“I will be sure to do so, Mrs. Morrison”, Raphael said, before she turned and went back into her apartment, leaving you and Raph alone in the open door.

Under normal circumstances, Raphael would have found the silence awkward, wrecking his mind to find something to talk about. But with you and your friendly smile, Raph did not feel the need to talk, finding your smile comforting enough.

Lucy was the one to break the silence, meowing as she wrapped herself around Raph’s leg. That was when Raph saw your shoulders shake and a bright smile on your lips, eyes closed. You were giggling, finding the interaction between the mutant and the white cat entertaining. Raphael bent down to pick up Lucy, letting her meow in his arms as he scratched her behind the ear.

“Before I leave”, Raph finally said. “I will just like to say, that it was nice meeting ya, (Y/N), and if ya won’t mind, I’ll very much like to see ya again”.

You smiled at him once more, before reaching your arms out to take Lucy from his arms. Raphael watched your movements, wondering what your next would be. As Lucy cuddled up against you, your hand went into your pocket, fishing out a small piece of folded paper you then gave to him with a sweet smile. Raphael unfolded the paper, and was surprised to find your number written down, along with a “text me when you get the chance;) - (Y/N)”.

Raphael smiled from the paper to you. “I will be sure to do so”, he said, watching as your smile got wider. “I’ll see you around, (Y/N)”. Those were his last words before he turned, jumped onto the fire escape and started crawling, all while you stood smiling in the doorway.

[acourtofkindness]

Thank you for sending in all the stories, here you can find the collection! Some of these are one-shots, some are longer stories, just click your way through them and also check out their other fics!

A Court of Vice and Victors

by @wishcamper Acosf rewrite where Nesta actually gets help and she and Cassian have a healthier dynamic, plus an Illyrian murder mystery

Pages Turned

by @climbthemountain2020 A character study on Nesta Archeron, the hardships she's faced through her life, and how they've shaped her as a person.

Could You Love Me While I Hate Myself

by @witch-and-her-witcher Humans have just been freed from servitude to the fae after years at war on Prythian and times are desperate for Nesta Archeron. With Feyre MIA and Elain a shell of herself, her options are becoming increasingly limited. When one of the young fae warriors, Cassian, who has carved a name for himself on the battlefield proposes to her after recognizing a mating bond between them, Nesta doesn't see any choice but to agree to take him as her husband and move herself and her sister to his home Court and the wilds of Illyria. War brings them together, a bond binds them - but is that enough for two broken people to find love with each other?

Firm and Fragrant Still the Brambleberries

by @foundress0fnothing When Nesta became a nurse at the start of the war, she could not have predicted a patient as challenging as Lieutenant Cassian Davies, nor he a nurse as captivating as her. As the same war that brought them together threatens to tear them apart, Nesta and Cassian must navigate the complexities of love and duty to find the way back to each other. A WWI historical AU.

Wreck My Plans, That's My Man

by @c-e-d-dreamer Drummer for the Bat Boys, Cassian has a large following, but sometimes Nesta doesn't appreciate fangirls calling themselves "Cassian's future wife."

It Looks As Though You're Letting Go

by @Darkcat18 (on ao3) Everyone is born with an arrow on the back of their hand which points to their soulmate at midnight on their eighteenth birthday. After her parents' disastrous marriage and her father's subsequent depression following the death of her mother, Nesta realized a soulmate is nothing more than guaranteed heartache and ruination. On the eve of her eighteenth birthday, she packs up her car and leaves her family and life behind forever. What she doesn't count on, however, is having a soulmate like Cassian, who may be the one to prove to her that a soulmate is what she needs.

I Guess It's Half Timing (And The Other Half's Luck)

by @moodymelanist Nesta and Cassian have a steamy one-night stand while out celebrating St. Patrick’s Day, but their lives are changed forever once Nesta realizes her period is late. Follow along as Nesta and Cassian navigate preparing to become parents, balancing their other life stresses, and figuring out their feelings for one another!

Amidst the Madness

by @This_Immortal_Hope (on ao3) Love and war have always followed the same rules: Quick to ignite, slow to extinguish. There aren't many things Cassian has dared to openly want in his 500 years of existence. Not even the position he currently occupies as Lord of Windahaven (far too lofty a spot for nothing more than a well-blodded bastard, if you ask the other Illyrian Lords), but from the second Nesta Archeron stepped foot in his camp, the entire world ebbed into a single truth. She is his. He is hers. Everything else - the war he is meant to lead, the people relying on him, the legacy he should be fighting to protect, cease to exist the second his eyes are caught in roiling silver flames. There is pain in this female, his female. And retribution will be exacted. Rhysand has his war, and now so does Cassian. Whether the two align ... only Nesta can give that order.

Sweetest Con

by @separatist-apologist Nesta Archeron has been trapped in witness protection for the past five years, hiding a secret no one can ever learn. All she has to do is wait out the criminals back home determined to punish her and her sisters for a lie they told years before. She can handle anything- even the new agent sent to keep her safe.

The Whole Truth

by @TheTeaQueen (on ao3) A beautifully heartbreaking story about what if Papa Archeron used/sold Nesta back in their village, and the IC learning this truth. It features Rhys and Nesta sibling bonding over their respective SA traumas. And Cassian helping Nesta to heal and feel comfortable with touch again

The Nesta Variation

by @persegrace (on ao3) A modern AU where Cassian is a military vet and Nesta is a former ballet dancer. They're both dealing with trauma, and meet in AA.

Ultima Ex Nobis

by @fieldofdaisiies Six years into a global pandemic which was caused by a mass fungal infection that turns hosts into zombie-like creatures and makes the whole of Prythian collapse, the former army general Cassian Cadell is tasked with one very special mission – escorting Nesta Archeron, one of the few immune survivors, across a post-apocalyptic Prythian to a group of people of the name L. Their identity is unknown but they can make an antidote.

you make my motor run

by @wilde-knight When Nesta and Cassian are set up on a blind date, neither of them can imagine their families feeling whole again. But with sparks flying between them, will they finally be able to imagine the road ahead?

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Congratulations on your milestone!

If it’s not too late, I’d like to request Spencer/Reader post prison with this lyric.

“You’re the cure, and your eyes have dug me out of my grave more times than I could ever count. You’ve always been the one to breathe me back to life - The Cure by The Movielife

Thank you.

Oh how I love post prison angst! And this was the perfect song for, thank you darling!

You’re the Cure

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Summary - you’ve always been the ray of light in Spencer Reid’s often dark life. But in the wake of his incarceration, can you be his cure?

CW - past drug addiction, past parental abandonment, mentions of Maeve arc, prison arc, emotionally distant Spencer, break ups, bad mental health, mentions of not eating and bathing, an almost relapse, heavy drinking, maybe one swear, tears, hopeful ending.

WC - 4.4k

Spencer Reid had never seen himself as someone who needed saving. Being forced to grow up at ten years old when his father abandoned him and his sick mother, had a way of instilling in him that when things went wrong, he could only rely on himself. 

His drug addiction only went to further perpetuate the notion that he was on his own. Even when his brain was muddled by the dilaudid he knew his team was aware of what was going on and not a single one of them ever said anything. 

So Spencer got used to fending for himself, keeping his emotional issues internalised. He loved his friends but he learnt not to count on them. As such he made a habit of keeping his cards close to his chest, never letting anyone in fully. 

Spencer Reid could only truly depend on one person and that was Spencer Reid. 

But then he met you. 

You admittedly joined the BAU at the worst possible time. Spencer was off work while he dealt with the grief of losing Maeve and he heard all about you through stories from Garcia and JJ. Both women described you as a bouncy, happy-go-lucky, ray of human sunshine. And to be perfectly honest, that filled Spencer with dread. 

It was one of the darker moments of his life and the idea of someone coming in and trying to force their light onto him was the last thing he needed. Spencer liked to deal with his trauma by wallowing in it on his own, he didn’t need other’s trying to cheer him up, to drag him out of the shadows. He wasn’t looking for someone to try and make it better, to take his pain away. 

And then you showed up and you breathed him back to life without even realising you were doing so.

From the moment he met you he had instinctively gravitated towards you, like you were magnets of opposing poles who were inherently drawn to one another. But his wounds caused by Maeve’s death were still so raw that he wasn’t in a position to open his heart up again. 

So the two of you fell into a wonderful friendship, probably the best one Spencer had ever had in his life. You were the light to his dark, the sunshine on his cloudy day. You were the first sip of coffee in the morning, the crisp pages of a new book. You were his favourite song. 

You were his cure. 

The whole team joked about the two of you, often referring to you as work husband and wife. Truthfully what you had was essentially a romantic relationship minus the intimacy. And at some point Spencer found the scars start to heal and his heart began to open up again without his realising. 

Almost two years after you joined the team, when Spencer kissed you for the first time, it was like the most natural thing in the world. 

You’d been leaving work together one night and you offered him a ride home like always but somedays Spencer enjoyed taking the metro to clear his head after particularly long days. 

He walked you to your car nonetheless and as you were saying goodbye he leant in and kissed the corner of your mouth as though it was something he did all the time. And then he kissed you again, this time directly on the lips and the strangest part of it was how it didn’t feel strange at all.

You never talked about what it meant but you didn’t need to. The next time the two of you went to the movies he slid his hands in yours as you walked towards the theatre. He spent the night with his arm protectively around your shoulders while you snuggled against him. 

And outside of your door after he walked you home, he kissed you again, this time much more passionately. You’d subsequently invited him in and the two of you finally took your relationship to a whole new level. 

You never defined your relationship per se. Somewhere over time Spencer started referring to you as his girlfriend and it was just so simple. 

Your relationship had grown and blossomed as though it was the easiest thing in the world, like you’d always meant to be together. Up until he’d met you, Spencer’s life had been full of complications but you were the least complicated thing in the world. 

You were the full stop to the end of all his paragraphs, you banished all the darkness from his life. You were the cure for everything that ailed him. 

But then he was arrested. 

Being locked in a cage for two and half months for a crime he didn’t commit brought all those demons out of the shadows that you had chased away with your light. He was sure even your sunny aura couldn’t bring him back from this. 

And after his release, he started shutting down. 

It started in small ways, ones in which you didn’t even really notice at first. Conversations became more one sided, his casual touches were few and far between. Then he started leaving for work earlier and earlier and you started getting used to waking up alone in an empty bed. 

During his stints of mandatory leave from the BAU you barely saw him and you knew that was by design. It became apparent that he was avoiding you, pushing you away along with the rest of the team. 

But you weren't the rest of the team. You were his partner, you shared a home together; a life together. You were once able to pull him out of any hell he was going through without even really trying. But this time he seemed so lost you worried he’d never find his way back to you. 

Even when he was home, mentally he was elsewhere. Perhaps he was still stuck inside a prison cell at Milburn, or maybe he was trapped in a perpetual nightmare that revolved around Cat Adams. 

You tried to comfort him, to offer him a reprieve from his dark thoughts but after so many attempts you gave up trying. There was only so much you could do and to be perfectly honest, you didn’t think there was any way of freeing him from the clutches of his monsters. 

Seven months after his release from prison, the two of you called time on your relationship. 

You moved out of his apartment and in with Penelope as a temporary measure while you found your own place. You took an indefinite leave of absence from the BAU while you worked on piecing your life back together. 

You didn’t see or speak to Spencer for several months that followed the break up. You made Penelope promise you not to tell you anything pertaining to him, it wasn’t your job to worry about him anymore. And even thought it killed her to do so, Penelope agreed to do this one thing for you. 

Spencer had allowed himself to get swallowed up in the darkness and this time even your magnificent light wasn’t enough to cure him.

***

Three months after the break up you still felt just as fragile as you did the day you moved out of his apartment. Your heart had taken a beating, it was bruised and battered and it would take a long time for it to heal, you knew that. But after three months you thought you might have made some progress. Instead you were still stuck at square one.

You’d moved out of Penelope’s last month into a tiny little studio apartment not far from Dupont Circle. You hated it if you were honest, but it was better than continuing to put Garcia out by sleeping on her couch. 

You hadn't been back to the BAU since the break up and had recently started looking for other jobs. You’d interview at the DC Field Office and were hopeful to get an offer, but it would be bitter sweet. You loved the BAU, you didn’t want to leave, but you knew you couldn’t work with Spencer again. Not with the way your heart shattered everytime you simply thought his name. 

You were trying to move on, it was all you could do. But what you didn’t realise was Spencer living in a whole new level of hell. 

***

The final nail in Spencer Reid’s coffin was when you moved out of the apartment. And what made it a harder pill to swallow was the fact it was his own fault you’d done so. 

He’d thought he’d been protecting you by bottling up his emotions and not dragging you down into the pit created by his time in prison. He thought if he didn’t talk about it, it would go away. This was one thing you couldn’t shield him from, one thing he needed to work through on his own the way he’d grown so accustomed to doing before he met you. 

But he’d pushed you too far, right out the door. And from there his life simply spiralled out of control. 

He left the BAU, just up and quit one day without any warning. He knew it was terrible timing with you taking a leave of absence but he couldn’t stop himself. He woke up one day and decided he’d had enough. 

For the months that followed he didn’t leave his apartment much at all. He wasn’t eating properly, wasn’t showering as frequently as he should and barely sleeping more than a couple of fretful hours a night. 

To be alone with himself like this for eternity would be agony. Without you there to breathe him back to life his appetite for living died. 

On one of his rare trips outside of the four walls of his tiringly lonely apartment, he brought a vial of dilaudid. He kept it in the middle of his coffee table for weeks, unopened, just as a reminder that he could take it if he wanted to. 

But thankfully it never did come to that. Instead of getting high, a particular rabbit hole he may never find his way out of, he drank. 

In actuality, it wasn’t much better and he knew that. Just because he’d never had a dependency to alcohol before didn’t mean he couldn’t develop one, clearly he was susceptible to addiction. But drinking was the only thing that helped numb the pain, aided in distancing himself from his tormented thoughts. 

Without you the demons were able to sneak closer and he lived with them among the shadows. You were always the one to shoulder the brunt of his misery but now he had to face it alone because he’d pushed you away. The lightness in your heart that he had always envied was gone, casting him forever into blackness.

He needed you here, the cure when his thoughts turned to cyanide, when he was going out of his fucking mind. 

He’d been drunk for more days straight than he could count and with each passing day the dilaudid grew more tempting. He moved it from the coffee table more often, rolling the vial around his hand, tapping his nails against it; contemplating the sweet release that would come with just one hit. 

But it never would be just one hit. 

The things he’d seen and done in prison haunted his every waking breath and seeped over into the small window of sleep he managed. He was never going to be the same after that experience, it had hardened him in a way he never realised possible. 

It had created a shell around his heart, a solid armour snugly encasing the organ in order to protect himself from his own emotions. But ultimately it hadn’t just been himself his emotions had been locked away from. 

In the seven months you stayed by his side after his release he hadn’t once been able to tell you he loved you. It only occurred to him after you walked away that he hadn’t said that to you since the morning he’d left for Mexico. 

In seven months the most physical contact the two of you had was a few occasions when you’d dared to place a kiss on his cheek. You hadn’t kissed properly, hadn’t been intimate, hadn’t even so much as held hands since before he made the decision to go to Mexico. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t think about it. There were multiple times he’d almost initiated something, almost drawn you into his body when you were laying in bed side by side yet miles apart. But he always stopped himself.

The sad fact of the matter was: Spencer didn’t trust himself to be with you anymore. But in order to survive in prison he’d had to become someone he didn’t recognise and it wasn’t so easy for him to shed that new persona. And as if to really drive that point home, when he’d had Cat pinned against the wall with his hand around her throat, he knew he would never trust himself with you again. 

The darkness was inside of him now, leaching into every pore. If he was the kind of man who could have killed Cat, or Scratch, and slept well afterwards, who’s to say where he would draw that line? 

As much as he missed you with every strangled beat of his shattered heart, keeping you away from him kept you safe. And he only ever wanted you to be safe. 

But without you, he may well meet his demise at the bottom of a bottle, or the bottom of a vial.

You were the cure. Your eyes have dug him out of his grave more times than he could ever count. You’ve always been the one to breathe him back to life. 

And so maybe it was inevitable that he called you, perhaps it was a feat in itself that he’d managed months on his own. But when he found himself on his bathroom floor, half a bottle of whiskey clouding his brain and a needle full of dilaudid in his hand, the only thing that was going to stop his relapse was you.

He didn’t expect you to answer but he prayed you would. And maybe someone was looking out for him, maybe there was some kind of higher power smiling down on him because you answered after three rings. 

“Spencer…” your voice was barely above a whisper as you spoke his name. Just those two simple syllables from your lips wrapped him in a blanket of your warmth. 

“H-hi Y/N.” His own was hoarse, run down. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken out loud and it showed. 

Tears rolled down his cheeks, heavy and thick as the hand holding the needle trembled. 

“Did you…did you want something?” Your voice held the weight of the pain he’d cause you and made even more tears fall. 

“Uh…” he stared at the needle, brushing his thumb along the plastic tube. This was so unfair of him. He couldn’t do this to you, drag you back into his mess like this. He knew if he asked you would come running in a heartbeat. But it wasn’t fair of him to ask. “It’s nothing. Forget I called.” 

“Are you sure?” Your tone was riddled in concern. 

“Y-yeah. Sure. V-very sure.” He stuttered, choking a little on his own tears. 

Before you could reply he hung up the phone before he could change his mind and beg you to come and save him from himself. He tossed the device aside and focused on the needle. He leant back against the bathroom wall, pulling his knees up to meet his chest. 

The cool tile on his bare feet was a nice repreve, but the dilaudid would be better. 

His shirt sleeve was already pushed up to his elbow, the tie was already secured around his bicep. The needle was full, all he had to do was press it into his waiting vein and all of his problems would melt away. 

But this was one grave he may never be able to dig himself out of. Once he relapsed there would be no going back, no getting sober this time. But his sobriety didn’t mean as much to him as it once had, and perhaps it was worth succumbing to his demons for a chance at peace.

***

Despite how hard he tried to sound like himself, it was easy for you to see through Spencer’s thinly veiled lie. And as much as you didn’t want to involve yourself anymore, you couldn’t help yourself. 

Taking care of Spencer Reid came as naturally to you as breathing. You didn’t intend on doing it, and most of the time he didn’t need looking after. But you did it anyway in small, every day ways. 

You did it in the way you made him coffee every morning before work. You did it in the way you ran your fingers through his hair after a stressful day. You did it in the way you grasped his hand when he needed something to ground him, when you offered him a soft smile of encouragement when he needed it. 

He’d always called you his cure, as though you were the antidote to all the horrors in the world. He’d told you that your smile was the sweetest medicine, that your mere presence in his life was therapeutic. 

So if there was any way you could help him, even after he’d pushed you away and caused you to leave, you would find it and you would do it. Which was why after he hung up on you, you were quickly jumping in your car and driving across town to the apartment you used to reside in. 

The door wasn’t just unlocked but it was open a crack. Immediately your heart started to race and you were so glad you hadn’t officially quit the BAU yet and you were still in possession of your firearm. 

Your hand shook as you pulled the weapon from your holster, nudging the door further open with your shoulder. You made quick work of taking in the room. It looked to be ransacked, like someone had broken in and turned the place upside down in search of something. 

You held your breath as you silently started across the room, manoeuvring in and out of piles of debris left behind in someone's wake. You headed towards the closed bedroom door, gun pointing right ahead of you. You focused your hearing but thus far couldn’t make out any distinctive sounds. 

Pushing open the door, you found the bedroom in much the same state as the living room. You tried not to allow yourself to get sentimental as your eyes swept across the unmade bed and you thought back to late nights and early mornings snug beneath those sheets with Spencer. The bed that was so big but you’d never know it as he always kept you as close as humanly possible. 

The bathroom door, like the front door, was open a crack and a light pooled from inside. It was then you heard the sound of haggard breathing punctuated by loud sniffing, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to well and truly stand to attention. 

As you listened to the unmistakable sounds of a grown man sobbing, you lowered your gun and tucked it back in your holster. 

A deeply disturbed and troubled man had ravaged this apartment but it was not the work of some petty criminal. Spencer had turned his home into a reflection of his own tortured mind, you had no doubt. 

You were somehow more tentative after you knew someone hadn’t broken in. You had never seen Spencer cry before, he always liked to put up a tough exterior, probably something to do with him being the baby of the BAU for so many years. 

You’d seen him vulnerable, probably more than he’d ever let anyone else see him, but you’d never witnessed him with his walls stripped away completely. And honestly, the thought of it scared you a little. 

But no matter how scared you were, despite how much he had hurt you, you pressed on. 

You inched open the bathroom not wanting to startle him and found him on the floor, hugging his legs to his chest and sobbing into his knees. But the truly terrifying part was the vial and needle discarded at his side. A silk tie was fashioned into a tourniquet around his arm.

“S-Spencer?” You gasped, covering your gaping mouth with your hands. 

He stiffened and slowly lifted his head from where it had been buried in the fabric of his slacks. His eyes were red rimmed and tears silently streamed down his cheeks. His hair drooped lifelessly onto his forehead and his face clearly hadn’t seen a razor in months. 

He somehow looked even worse than when you visited him in prison. 

“Why are you here?” His voice cracked and his words were slightly slurred. 

“You didn’t sound like yourself on the phone. I needed to see you with my own eyes.” You heard the sadness in your own tone, unable to hide it. 

“I’m not myself.” He exhaled a breath that sounded like he had been holding it in for years. “I haven’t been since prison.” 

You swallowed, daring to take a few steps further into the bathroom. Spencer let his legs fall and stretch out in front of him on the linoleum and you slid down to sit next to him, the only thing separating you was the drug paraphernalia. As if reading your mind he exhaled again before he spoke.

“I didn’t take it.” He wouldn’t look at you, instead he looked down at his hands. “I wanted to, but I didn’t.” 

“Why are you slurring then?” You watched the side of his face. He clenched and unclenched his jaw several times. 

“Whiskey. Not dilaudid. I swear.” 

“I’ve never known you to drink.” Of course it was a relief that he hadn’t taken the drugs, but hearing that he was drunk wasn’t a whole lot better. 

“I hadn’t had a drink in nearly ten years. I gave it up around the same time as I quit dilaudid, I guess I worried it would become one vice replacing another. But I needed something. And alcohol was the lesser of two evils.” He was still slurring but he was surprisingly coherent. 

It didn’t surprise you in the least that Spencer could still string a logical sentence together when he was inebriated. 

“Why did you call me, Spencer? Of all the people you could have called, why me?” You whispered as though you weren’t entirely sure you really wanted an answer to that. 

He finally looked at you, glancing to his side with his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip in contemplation for a moment or two as though formulating a carefully curated answer. But really, the answer was incredibly simple. 

“Because you’re my cure.” He shrugged, his tears had dried up but the stains on his cheeks remained. “And right now I am in desperate need of remedy.” 

“Spencer…” You sighed, your own eyes misting over with tears. “I was always here for you, you could have talked to me about anything but instead you shoved me aside and tried to deal with things on your own.”

“I’ve never been very good at asking for help. I’ve only ever been able to rely on myself. People leave. People aren’t reliable. But you…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “You brought the kind of sunshine into my life I could only dream of. You have saved me in more ways than you will ever know. Your mere existence in my life has been more help to me than I can explain to you. That’s why I call you my cure, because it's the best way I can think to describe what you are to me.” 

“I knew you would be different after prison, Spencer. No decent man can go through an experience like that and come out unchanged. But in your bones you are still the Spencer Reid I fell in love with.” You tried to tell him much like you had countless times in those torrid seven months. You hoped this time he might actually hear it. 

“I’m really not sure that I am, Y/N.” He raked his fingers through his tangled hair with a meek shake of his head. 

“I am.” You nodded. “I’m sure. Spencer, whatever you had to do inside was for your own protection. It was every man for himself and you did what you did to survive. And Cat…? After everything she’s done to you, I wanted to strangle the bitch too.” 

Spencer’s eyes widened, looking a little like deer caught in headlights. He was gnawing on his bottom lip haphazardly as he stared at you. 

“Really?” 

“Yes, Spencer.” 

“Do you really think I can come back from this?” 

“Yes, Spencer.” You repeated, defiance in your voice. “And I’m going to help you. Whether you want me to or not. Because my love for you is stronger than the pain you caused me. I will be by your side, showering you in light until there is not even a sliver of a shadow for your demons to hide in. Let me be your cure, Spence.” 

You reached out your hands towards him, palm upwards and fingers spread to create enough space for his own to slot between them. He glanced between your face and your hand a few times before his lip quipped up ever so slightly at the corner in a small smile. 

And then he reached for you, his fingers finding those spaces between your own that always seemed like they were made intentionally to fit his. It was as though someone had crafted you both perfectly for each other. 

Spencer had never been a believer in higher powers but it was the only reason he could fathom for how you had found him. 

In a world consisting of nearly eight billion people, what were the chances of the two of you meeting? What were the odds of two perfectly imperfect people finding each other and slotting together in such an inconceivably faultless way? 

As you sat there hand in hand, Spencer knew he would do anything to keep you by his side for as long as he lived. Even if it meant allowing you to see all his flaws, all his cracks. Because he was certain now you would love every one of his broken pieces. 

You were the light casting away his shadows. You were the air being breathed into his lungs. You were the thread holding him together. 

You were the cure. 

[petcr3]

something to rely on | chapter one

series masterlist (coming soon!)

summary: despite being separated, bob floyd is there to support his wife and their son after she sustains some injuries in a car accident.

word count: 4.1k

warnings: separation/divorce, reader is frequently referred to by she/her pronouns, is called bob's wife/ex-wife, mrs. floyd, etc. bob and reader have a son, but i have tried to be as inclusive as possible with regards to appearance and the type of family! (meaning, if i've done my job correctly, charlie can have been adopted, not necessarily carried by the reader, etc.) non-graphic reference to a car accident, non-graphic description of injuries. chapter one is set entirely in a hospital. readers parents are present in the story, still married, and have a good relationship with reader because this is fantasy lol

a/n: lads, it's here. some of you have been hearing me blather about this story for fucking ages and chapter one is finally done. i'm proud of it, i think, but if nothing else i simply cannot keep sitting on it, so here it is! very excited for this story's future <3 i hope you love charlie as much as i do lol

It’s a rare occasion that one hears Bob Floyd before seeing him, but you suppose your getting into a car accident is a special enough occasion. 

Things feel hazy–– with two broken wrists and a broken leg, you’ve been given quite the painkiller. You’re not sure how long you’ve been awake, exactly, but it can’t have been very long. There’s a digital clock on a small table next to your hospital bed, but your neck is too sore to turn far enough over to see it. A thick wooden door is shut against the buzz of the floor outside: the ringing of phones, the click of computer keys, and the clatter of patients being wheeled to and from scans and tests and specialists. 

Even amidst all that, the sound of Bob’s words cuts through. He’s raising his voice, you realize. That’s not like him.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the nurse says on the other side of the door, “but outside of visiting hours I can only admit family, and––”

“I am family,” he says, impatient. 

“I understand that, but when a patient is separated––”

“Separated,” Bob interrupts, “not divorced. That is my wife and the mother of my child, so will you please let me see her?” It sounds much more like a demand than a question. The nurse sighs, clearly frustrated. 

“Let me go speak to her.” She steps out from behind the counter and cuts Bob a severe look. “If she is awake, I’ll let her know you’re here. But given that rest is one of the most crucial things for her right now, I will not be waking her up. You can wait.”

“Thank you,” comes his clipped reply. The nurse approaches your room, only a few steps away from the front desk–– Bob would have just gone straight in, had he known— and when the door creaks open, he can be seen standing over her shoulder–– a respectful distance behind, at least.

“Ma’am, there’s someone here to see you,” she says. You can tell it’s taking everything Bob has not to run to you, but he’s smart enough to know that showing this nurse any more disrespect isn’t wise. “He says he’s your husband,” she continues, “but if you don’t want to see him, I can tell him to leave.”

“No, that’s okay,” you say, “he can come in.” She turns around only to discover Bob right behind her. He squeezes quickly past, murmuring a hurried thank you before practically flying to your bedside. All his frustration quickly dissipates as he leans over you, a deep furrow in his brow. Over his shoulder, you see the nurse shake her head, exasperated, and leave, shutting the door behind her.

“Hey honey,” Bob says, hand lifting to brush across your cheek, as if it’s two years ago and nothing has changed. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“I’m okay, Bobby,” you reply, tired. You surprise yourself, though, using his old nickname like that. Since you two broke up, you’ve only ever called him Bob. “Someone lost control of their car in the rain, apparently. You owe that nurse an apology.”

“And I’ll give her one later. First I need to know that you’re okay.”

“I just said that I’m okay,” you laugh softly. “Bob, I’m fine.” Reluctantly, he nods, leaning back to grab at a chair. He won’t even stand all the way up, refuses to take his eyes off you lest you run off somewhere else to nearly get yourself killed.

“How’s Charlie; is he with your parents?” You nod, heart clenching at the thought of your son, how distressed he must be right now.

“Yeah,” you say, voice getting a little watery. “Yeah, I got to talk to him a little while ago. He wants to come visit after my surgery tomorrow.” Bob’s brow furrows. 

“Surgery?”

“Just my left wrist. The right one and the leg only need braces, but,” you sigh, “yeah, the left one took the door pretty hard, so.” He nods.

“How about your head? All okay up there, no bleeding?”

“I have a concussion, but that’s all. They know what they’re doing here, Bob. Don’t worry. I’m gonna be just fine.” He studies you for a moment, then sighs, nodding his head again. “Not so fun being on the other side of it, huh?” you say without thinking. It isn’t meant to be cutting, but blue eyes snap up to your face, a faint expression of shock on Bob’s features. 

Still, you have a hard time feeling too guilty. How many times have the roles been reversed? How many times have you held your baby boy to your chest murmuring reassurances that you can’t promise are true? How many times has Bob been gone, unable to tell you he was okay or even alive? Or looked up at you under the harsh white light of a hospital room on base and told you there was nothing to worry about when you both knew that there was? 

Bob schools his expression into something a little softer and gives a curt nod. You can’t decide if that was over the line. But that had always been the problem, hadn’t it? 

Neither of you had known how easy it would be to push each other over their limits. You’d thought love and a thick skin would be enough to survive the looming fear of losing your husband. Bob had thought it would be easier to outrun the guilt he always felt leaving you behind, the way it weighed on his chest like an anvil. Eventually, your wounds were rubbed raw and his ribs began to crack beneath the pressure.

The times when he was home were supposed to be precious, but they had become tense, uncomfortable. It wasn’t good for either of you, and it certainly wasn’t good for three-year-old Charlie. Splitting up had been the best choice, even though it pained you both to admit it.

Bob had been adamant about a separation rather than a divorce. Ex-spouses of the military were still entitled to some benefits, but for Charlie’s sake and yours he wanted to remain legally married. You’d both agreed that if you met other people and got serious enough, a divorce would be back on the table. It hadn’t been the easiest decision, but now, laying in a hospital bed, you can’t help but feel grateful. And how many people can say their ex husband came rushing to their side in an emergency? 

Regret is already creeping up across your skin.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, reaching to touch the back of his hand. Your fingers brush awkwardly against his skin where they protrude from your brace, but you can see the gesture means something to him–– his eyes shine a little sadly when he looks at you. He gives a faint shake of his head. 

“S’okay. Me too.”

Despite your best efforts to persuade him otherwise, Bob stays the night in your room, sleeping with his legs slung across a second chair the nurses had been kind enough to provide for him. (He’d apologized to the nurse he spoke to when he arrived, and she’d taken it rather graciously, all things considered. In her place, you’re pretty sure you would have had him thrown out.) You fall asleep fairly easily, exhaustion having taken its toll, but you wake up in the wee hours needing the bathroom. You press the call button, hoping it won’t wake your sleeping companion, but Bob rouses when Jermaine, one of the nurses, comes in. The whole bathroom song and dance is a process you certainly don’t enjoy, but you’ve gotten used to it over the past several hours. 

“Can’t get enough of me, huh?” Jermaine quips, walking to your bedside.

“I keep guzzling water when he’s not looking,” you say, nodding towards a still groggy Bob. Jermaine only laughs and pulls back the covers.

“All right, ready?” 

“Yep.” You grimace as he braces his hands beneath your armpits to help lift you up enough to get into your wheelchair. You sigh as Jermaine rolls you to the bathroom and braces an arm around your waist to help you onto the toilet. The door stands open, but you’re too drained to care–– besides, this isn’t anyone’s first rodeo.

You don’t see the way Bob’s eyes widen with worry. How he watches each maneuver carefully, filing it away in the back of his mind. The decision had been made before he walked through the door, really, but seeing you struggle only cements it. He doesn’t say anything as Jermaine helps you back to bed–– only a quiet thank you as the nurse leaves the room. He can talk to you about his plan tomorrow.

A low murmur of voices filters into your consciousness as you wake that morning, your eyes flickering open to see Bob standing with Dr. Alvarado, who will be performing your surgery. She notices you shifting in your bed and comes to your side, Bob following suit on the opposite, returning to his seat.

“Good morning, Mrs. Floyd,” she says warmly, “how are we feeling?” Your mouth is dry and you swallow thickly before responding.

“I’ve been better,” you rasp, wincing at the scrape of your voice. Bob is holding out a cup of water before you even have a moment to think, and you start to reach for it before faltering. In the fog of waking up, you’d almost forgotten.

“I’ve got it,” he says quietly, bringing it to your lips. You drink, far too worn out to protest.

“Your procedure is scheduled for 12:30 this afternoon. It’s about 8:15 right now. That’ll give you some time to rest before pre-op. I’ve also been told you have a special visitor, if you feel up for it.” Your heart lifts, and you can’t help but look expectantly up at Bob. 

“Charlie?” 

The hopeful lilt of your voice splinters something in his heart. He smiles, tight-lipped but genuine all the same, and nods. 

“Uh-huh. I know you said the plan was post surgery, but your mom called saying they were up and ready to go. I figured you’d want to see him.”

“Yeah,” you say, voice high and thin, “yeah I’d like that.” Dr. Alvarado smiles. 

“I’ll let them know. They’re all very anxious to see you.” You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks. Ordinarily, you try not to let Charlie see you crying. With the separation, you’ve been doing everything you can to be his rock. You remember how scary it was when you were a child to see your parents upset, or worse, hurt. But today, you don’t know if you’ll quite be able to manage it. Gracelessly, you swipe at the tears on your cheeks, but before long, Bob is at the ready again, tissue box extended toward you. You nod your thanks and clasp one in between your fingers. Blotting is much easier. 

You’ve just about gotten it together when the door opens again. 

“Mommy?” Charlie calls, and you hate how you can hear the frightened tremble of his voice. He makes it a few steps over the door jamb when he sees Bob. 

“Daddy!” For a heartbreaking moment, wide eyes dart between the both of you, unsure of where to run. 

“Go say hi to Daddy, sweetheart,” you say, heart swelling to see the reunion. Charlie beams and runs directly into Bob’s arms.

“Hey, big man!” he says, scooping Charlie off the ground in a strong embrace. “I missed you so much, little bear.” He presses a big kiss to your son’s cheek and is rewarded with a delighted giggle that has you crying again. Hurriedly, you dab at your eyes once more.

Your parents enter the room behind Charlie, your mother’s smile wavering and your dad’s brow furrowed. The braces make hugs awkward, but your parents’ presence is an enormous comfort.

“Charlie’s been very brave,” your father informs you. “And we’re all very glad you’re okay.”

“Me too,” you say wetly, wishing you could hold their hands. “I love you guys.”

You cast a glance over to your left, where Bob and Charlie are engaged in conversation, faces close together and voices hushed. Watching Bob parent has always made your heart ache, even now when things have fallen apart. He was meant to be a father, plain and simple. People who don’t know him might expect a Navy man to be gruff, tough on a child, especially a son. But Bob is all gentleness when it comes to your Charlie. He is patient and invested and even though you two aren’t together, it’s difficult to imagine parenting Charlie with anyone else. 

You tear your gaze away to talk with your parents, explaining what happened and asking about how Charlie has been coping over the course of the last few hours.

A few feet away, Bob has his son cradled close in his arms. 

“I was really scared,” Charlie confides in him, “but I gotta be brave for Momma.” Bob’s heart breaks just a little, and he smooths a hand over Charlie’s hair. Perhaps this instinct to protect is just built into the little boy– knowing you and Bob, that’s a distinct possibility. But Bob can’t help but worry it’s a result of the split. 

“You don’t have to be brave for Momma, honey,” he says softly. “That’s our job. Parents get to be strong for their kids, not the other way around. It’s okay to be scared when someone is hurt. And it’s also okay to express that. Especially with me and Mommy. And being strong doesn’t mean you can’t feel your feelings. In fact, being able to feel your feelings is a part of what makes a person strong, because some feelings are really hard.” Charlie listens to his father with rapt attention–– he always has. “But it’s important not to ignore them. Does that make sense?” He nods sagely when Bob is done talking.

Bob can’t help but smile, heart swelling with affection. It’s moments like these when he thinks he could leave it all if it meant getting to spend every second of every day with his baby boy. 

“Should we go say hi?” he asks, bouncing Charlie gently against his hip. Charlie nods, his gaze flickering over to you. 

Though you’re talking with your parents, you can’t take your eyes off of your son. Call it selfish, but ever since you’d been able to think straight you’ve wanted nothing more than to see him. You’re reaching out for him the second Bob starts towards you, but he gives you a look.

“With your leg?” he asks quietly, even though Charlie is right there in his arms.

“I still got one good one,” you quip,” and I think a hug is gonna help me get better much quicker. Besides, all my problems are below the knee— I’ll be fine.”

Bob has always had trouble saying no to you. 

“Be gentle, okay bud?” Charlie nods.

Carefully, he sets Charlie down in your lap, positioning him mostly on your uninjured right leg. 

“Hi baby,” you beam, the pain you’re in practically forgotten. “I’m so happy to see you!” Charlie snuggles immediately into your chest, eyes impossibly big when they look up at you. Tucking him under your arm is awkward, but you do it anyway.

“Hi Mommy,” he says quietly, like he’s afraid talking too loudly will hurt you.

“Hi,” you say again, matching his hushed voice, smile wider than it’s been for the duration of your stay. Bob stands slightly off to the side, feeling a little bit like an intruder. Still, he can’t help but watch the way your eyes sparkle when you look at your son. He’s never seen anything like it. 

A gentle hand on his shoulder catches his attention, and he turns to see your mother, her expression warm. He counts himself incredibly lucky that your parents don’t hate him. Sometimes he hates himself for what happened, and yet they still treat him like one of their own. The three of them exchange hushed greetings, each thanking one another for taking care of the two of you.

Over in your hospital bed, you’re playing with the ends of Charlie’s hair. He’s been telling you about everything that happened between yesterday afternoon and now, cheerily informing you of how much he cried and how he got to choose what he and your parents had for dinner last night. You drink in every detail with enthusiasm, grateful as ever for his enormous heart and his resilience.

“I was really scared,” he says softly after a moment. You nod.

“I bet. I was scared too.”

“Daddy says it’s okay to be scared.”

“Daddy’s right, baby. It’s more than okay to be scared. It’s important— it’s how our brains keep us safe.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. You know how I’m scared of snakes?” Charlie nods. “Well, not every single snake is dangerous, right? But there are some that are. And because my brain remembers that some snakes are dangerous, I get a little scared when I see them. That fear is my brain telling me to be careful and stay safe.”

“So I was scared because it’d be dangerous if you got hurt?”

“Kind of! It can also be scary to not know what’s happening, right? Because if you don’t know what’s happening, it’s hard to get ready to deal with it. And it can be scary to know that something sad might happen, because it’s hard to feel sad.”

“I don’t like feeling sad,” Charlie says, nodding his understanding.

“Me neither, baby bear. But today I’m not even sad, because you’re here.” Your son’s cheeks turn pink and he hides your face in his chest. Heart swelling with fondness, you cross your arms over his back in an awkward embrace and press a kiss to the top of his head.

“Is it okay if I’m a little sad?” he asks, voice muffled by your hospital gown.

“Of course it is, sweetheart. You gotta feel your feelings. And feelings don’t last forever; they change all the time, right?”

“Right.”

Out of sight, Bob swipes a few tears from his eyes. He’s always proud of Charlie, but he’s proud of you, too–– with three limbs freshly out of working order, you would be well within your rights to be out of sorts, but there you sit, still parenting admirably. Beautifully, even. Your father squeezes Bob’s shoulder and he looks up, almost a little startled. Your father smiles and the two men exchange a nod. 

Your mother steps over to your bed and pets a hand over Charlie’s hair.

“I think me and Grandpa are gonna go home for a little while, honey,” she says to him before looking at you and resting a hand on your shoulder. “Someone gave us a good scare yesterday and I don’t think either of us slept very well. We’re both a little worn out.” Suddenly, she seems to catch herself. “Unless you want us to stick around and––”

You shake your head and reach out an appreciative hand to cover hers.

“Go get some rest, Ma.” She nods.

“We will. But we’ll be back when you come out of surgery. Bobby told us he’d keep us updated.” Too tired to even think that far ahead, you nod. 

“Thanks for looking after Charlie,” you say, tangling your fingertips with hers.

“Well, that’s my pleasure,” she says, pressing a loud kiss to her grandson’s cheek. “And we can figure out next steps, we’ll find someone—“

“Mom,” you say softly, “let's just— can we take things one step at a time for now?” She nods–– the anxiety of it all reads clear on your face.

“You know, you’re right. Let’s get you through surgery first.” You nod, grateful. “We’ll see you soon, then.” Your mother smiles and turns to get her bag. Charlie giggles as his grandfather comes over to playfully jostle his shoulders.

“Be good for your mom and dad, okay kiddo?” Charlie nods eagerly.

“That’s my guy,” your dad says fondly, giving your son a hug before turning his attention to you. “You give ‘em hell in there.”

“What,” you laugh, “in surgery? Dad, it’s just my wrist; I’m gonna be fine.�� He shrugs.

“Can’t hurt though, right?” he says lightly, but you can see a glimmer of anxiety in his eyes. He leans down to kiss your cheek and you return the gesture.

“Right,” you affirm, softening. “I love you, Dad. I’m gonna be okay.” Your dad gives a final nod and links arms with your mother as they leave the room. 

It’s so easy to forget that to him— to both your parents— you are still a child. Charlie is still so young, it feels impossible that he’ll ever be as old as you are now. Of course, you still marvel at the fact that he’s as big as he is; that he can walk and talk and do math equations and paint pictures. But it’s easier to manage how much he’s grown because you can still bundle him up in your arms and count on one hand how many birthdays he’s had. Maybe if you were having less of an emotional day, you’d be able to imagine what it’ll be like when he’s grown up, but you can feel tears welling up in your eyes again so you push the thought out of your mind.

“Mommy?” Charlie asks, bringing your attention back into the present.

“Mm?”

“Did Grandpa use a bad word because he’s very stressed?” Laughter sputters out of you before you can help it, and Bob raises an amused eyebrow.

“Yeah, baby,” you say, “I don’t think he was thinking very hard about which words he was choosing. He just meant that he wants my surgery to go well, that’s all.”

“It’s like telling someone to give it their all,” Bob explains, coming to sit down at your bedside again.

“It’s what Daddy does when he’s on a deployment,” you offer, curling your arm into something akin to a flexed muscle, “he gives ‘em heck.”

“And that’s what Momma’s body is gonna do when she’s in surgery. It’s gonna do everything it needs to do to keep her safe while she’s asleep.” Charlie looks between you two, worry creeping back into his features at the mention of the surgery.

“Hey,” you murmur, “I’m going to be okay, Charlie-bear. I promise. Sometimes things can go wrong during a surgery, but the likelihood of anything bad happening is very, very low.” Charlie nods, wide-eyed. “So there isn’t anything to worry about sweetheart. But it’s still okay to be scared, right?”

“Right,” comes his hushed reply. Your heart aches not to be able to soothe his anxiety, but you know there’s no sense in trying to talk him out of it–– especially in the wake of what you’ve been trying to teach him. Still, it seems to you that the rules shouldn’t apply to Charlie, with his delicate soul and enormous heart.

Bob lays a comforting hand on your son’s back and his little form immediately relaxes into the touch. The three of you sit in comfortable silence for a little while, but soon the door creaks open and Jermaine enters with a wheelchair.

“Is this Charlie?” he asks brightly. 

“It is!” you chirp. The boy in question looks up shyly. “Charlie, this is my friend Jermaine. He’s been helping me since I got to the hospital.”

“Your mom is a tough lady,” Jermaine says warmly, squatting to be closer to Charlie’s eye level. “I promise we’re gonna take very good care of her.” Charlie nods.

“Pinkie promise?” he asks, heartbreakingly earnest. Jermaine smiles.

“You got yourself a deal.” He locks his pinkie with Charlie’s and stands up. “I’ve gotta take Mom for a couple of tests before her procedure, and then we’re gonna take her off to surgery. But you’ll get to see her in a few hours when she wakes up, okay champ?” Charlie holds on to you a little tighter and peers up at his dad, who nods encouragingly.

“Okay.”

“Mom is very lucky to have people that care about her so much,” Jermaine says. “You should be proud.” A little divot of determination forms between Charlie’s brows and he nods. Bob starts to stand and Charlie clambers around to give you one last hug.

“I love you Mommy,” he says. You squeeze him as tightly as you can and press a big kiss to his cheek.

“I love you too, baby bear. I’m gonna see you so soon, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, a heartbreaking waver in his voice. You give him another kiss before Bob scoops him up again, and before you know it, Jermaine is wheeling you off into the hospital halls. 

Back in your room, Bob has Charlie wrapped up in a tight embrace.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, baby bear,” he coos, “everything’s gonna be okay.”

[ghostofhyuck]

Cause I don't know how it gets better than this

You take my hand and drag me head first

Fearless

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“You’re too excited.”

“Of course! It’s been so long!”

“It’s only been a year.”

“You’re ruining my moment Jisung,” you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at your boyfriend who seems to be unfazed with your attitude. Jisung continued driving until you saw the familiar road that leads to your home.

Finally, after a year of being out of the country, you’re finally home! You missed your family, your hometown, and of course, your boyfriend Jisung who had to endure a year of phone calls, messages, and video calls.

Jisung parked the car in front of your front yard and you immediately jumped out of the passenger seat so that you could knock on the gates to inform your family that you’re here.

The gates opened and you were welcomed by your bone-crushing hug from your family. Your siblings are eager to know what you’ve bought for them as souvenirs while your parents just wanted you to go inside and eat the meal that they prepared for you.

Jisung followed you quietly, helping you by carrying your luggages and bags back and forth from the trunk of his car.

“Jisung, stay here for a while okay? Join us for lunch would you?” your mother said, patting the taller guy’s back. Although you two have been childhood friends and lovers for years, he still gets shy around your family.

“It’s fine auntie, but my mom asked me to run some errands,” he apologised then he looked at you, smiling apologetically. “I’ll pick you up later okay? Go rest for a while.”

“It’s okay! I want to rest too, go now!”

“Bye, love you!” Jisung tells you one last time before bidding goodbye to your family.

“Ah, that little kid never changed,” your mother comments, making you smile.

“Why? Still the same Jisung who taught me how to ride a bike?” you joked.

“Yeah, still the same Jisung who was shy when he picked you up for prom,” your father teased.

“Oh my god, not that one!” you exclaimed, making your family burst into laughter.

You spent the remaining time of the day sharing stories about your out-of-the-country experiences with your family. Truth to be told, you couldn’t help but keep smiling the whole day because you’re back home. Everything feels so warm especially because the people you hold dearly are here.

Exhaustion didn’t hit you until you lay down on your bed. Your mother even changed the sheets just so you could sleep comfortably. They didn’t remove the posters on the wall, the designs and trinkets that you think will brighten up your room. Seeing that your childhood home hasn’t changed, you drift off to sleep.

You woke up and realised that it was already night, your room was dark and quiet, making you get up from your bed and open the lights of your room. You scratched your eyes due to the blinding lights, aimlessly walking around your room and trying to sink into you that you’re finally home.

Your eyes caught the polaroid of you and Jisung during your prom night. You laughed as you saw how ugly your prom dress was and how tacky Jisung looked at his oversized tuxedo, but it was cute and you two looked so young. It reminds you of how long you two have been together.

Speaking of Jisung, you fished out your phone to check if he has any messages to you and to your surprise, there’s none.

Perhaps he was too busy with their store. You know how much his family relies on him and him having the time to pick you up at the airport means that he managed to take time for you.

It’s not like you’re in a rush, you know that both of you have a lot of time in this world, so you decided that this day can be a time for your family. Dinner was great and you couldn’t help but cry in glee because it’s been so long ever since you ate your mother’s home-cooked meals.

Around eight in the evening, Jisung sends you a message.

“At this hour?” your father asked warily.

“Oh come on now, it’s not like you’re used to it,” your mother interferes, glancing at you and smiling. “Just make sure to get home by twelve.”

You only smiled at them and went out. You decided to wait for Jisung outside rather than inside, you hugged your body for warmth as you remember how chilly it can be in your hometown during night.

“Look at this idiot,” a jacket draped around you making you turn around.

“We could’ve just waited for tomorrow,” you told him, taking off the jacket and wearing it in a more comfortable manner.

“But I miss you,” Jisung confesses, and one thing about your boyfriend is that he seldom uses words. “And don’t you want a bit of reminiscing? Just like when we were young.”

“Well, I hope that the convenience store is still open at this hour,” you giggled.

“Of course it is! Shall we?” he holds out his hand and as you hold onto it, he kisses it first before tugging you away.

“Since when are you this bold?” you raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve always been like this,” he confidently said.

“No you’re not, you’re my shy boyfriend who’s too nervous to hold my hands during our first date,” you taunted.

“I was seventeen, give me a break,” Jisung laughs.

You only laughed as you two continued walking around. Jisung was right, it was the perfect time to reminisce. You couldn’t help but remember back when you two were younger, you two would sneak out late at night to buy food from the only open convenience store around your place.

Nothing has changed and yet as you look at Jisung, you see the small five year old Jisung who became your first friend in the neighbourhood. Now he's a brooding man who’s a foot taller than you, with his deep voice and good looks, you couldn’t help but to let out a laugh.

“What’s funny?” he asked, confused.

“Nothing,” you told him. “I’m just glad to be back.”

Jisung lets go of your hand and places his arms around you, pulling you closer to him and proceeding to kiss the top of your head.

“Me too, I’m glad that you’re here again.”

[dinas-a-bird]

A Rocky Start - 1

Pairing: Ellie Williams x fem!reader

Warnings: mean!Ellie (at the start), modern college AU, Ellie is handsome because I say so

Summary: You start college and meet your roommate, Ellie Williams.

Word Count: 957

two three four

A/N: Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes, I already have this entire fic written but I'm not going to post it all at the same time... sorry 😅

It is a hot August day as you step out of your parents' car and look up at the towering buildings of your new home for the next four years - college. You had dreamed of this moment for so long, imagining all the new experiences, new people, and the newfound freedom. As you hoist your backpack on your shoulder and make your way towards the dorms, you can’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves.

The campus is buzzing with activity as students and their families scurry around, hauling boxes, and saying goodbye to loved ones. You make your way to the check-in desk where you are greeted by a friendly-faced orientation leader who hands you your room key and a map of the campus.

You take in a deep breath and make your way to your new room, unlocking the door and stepping inside. It is small and sparse, but it will be home for the next few months. You start to unpack your belongings, feeling a little lonely and overwhelmed.

Suddenly, there is a loud knock at the door. You look up to see a girl with short auburn hair standing there, her arms crossed over her chest. "Hey, you're the new girl, right?" she says bluntly.

You nod, your mouth going dry. God she’s handsome. "Yeah, this is my first semester. My name's y/n."

She rolls her eyes. "I'm Ellie. Just so you know, I don't do the whole 'welcome wagon' thing. So don't expect any baked goods or any of that crap."

You raise your eyebrows. "Okay...I'll keep that in mind. You're my roommate then?"

Ellie nods, pushing past you and plopping down on her own bed, not bothering to introduce herself further. You don’t know what to make of her, but one thing was clear - she isn’t going to make your transition into college life easy.

You start to feel a knot forming in your stomach, wondering how you're going to survive the next few months with this girl as your roommate. You decide to try and break the tension by starting a conversation.

"So, what are you studying?" you ask, sitting down on your own bed.

Ellie gives you a look of annoyance. "Astronomy and Astrophysics. What about you?"

"I'm undeclared at the moment," you reply, feeling a little embarrassed.

Ellie scoffs. "Figures. Well, good luck with that. College is tough, and if you don't know what you want to do, you're screwed."

You start to feel even more intimidated by Ellie's blunt demeanor. "Is it okay if I put up some pictures on the wall?" you ask, trying to change the subject.

Ellie shrugs. "I don't care. Just don't make it look like a kindergarten classroom."

You try to ignore her attitude and start unpacking your pictures and posters. As you start to decorate your side of the room, you notice that Ellie is staring at you.

"What?" you ask, feeling self-conscious.

Ellie shrugs. "It's just weird seeing someone actually care about how their room looks. Most people just throw their crap around and call it a day."

You start to feel a glimmer of hope that maybe you and Ellie can find some common ground. "Yeah, I just want it to feel like home, you know?"

Ellie nods, her expression softening slightly. "I get that. Home is important."

You smile, feeling a little more at ease. "So, do you have any tips for surviving college?"

Ellie leans back on her bed, looking thoughtful. "Yeah, don't drink too much, don't procrastinate, and don't rely on anyone else to do your work for you."

You nod, taking in her advice. "Thanks, that's good to know. So, do you have any plans for the weekend?"

Ellie shrugs. "Not really. Maybe hit up a party or two. You?"

You shake your head. "I don't really know anyone yet."

Ellie raises an eyebrow. "Well, we can't have that, can we? Have to change that soon."

You can't help but feel a little surprised by her sudden change in attitude. "Yeah, that would be nice. How do you usually meet people?"

Ellie smirks. "Parties are always a good bet. But if that's not your scene, there are other ways. Join a club, volunteer, or just strike up a conversation with someone in class."

You nod, "Thanks, I appreciate it."

Ellie nods in response, her eyes scanning your side of the room. "So, what else do you like? Any hobbies, interests?"

You think for a moment before answering. "I like reading, listening to music, and watching movies. And I've always been interested in writing, but I'm not very good at it."

Ellie raises an eyebrow. "You should join the writing club on campus. I heard they're pretty good."

You feel a spark of excitement at the suggestion. "Really? That sounds cool. Do you think they would let me join even though I'm not majoring in English or anything?"

Ellie rolls her eyes. "Of course, they would. They're not that exclusive. Just go to one of their meetings and see if it's something you're interested in."

You nod, feeling a sense of motivation to try something new. "Thanks, Ellie. I think I'll do that."

Ellie nods in response before checking her phone. "Hey, I gotta run. I have a meeting with my advisor in ten minutes. Talk later?"

You smile and nod, feeling grateful for the unexpected conversation. "Sure, sounds good. Thanks again."

As Ellie exits the room, relief washes over you. Maybe you and your new roommate could find some common ground after all. You finish up decorating your side of the room and take a moment to sit back and take it all in. It's not much, but it's a start.

[veeluvss]

what’s going on?

jj x daughter!reader

fluff

700 words

i sighed, getting out of bed and going straight to the bathroom. i dropped by the side of the toilet but thankfully held back my sick this time. i felt awful, terrified. the only person who saw the horrors of that room was never here. when JJ adopted me, i thought i was going to get this luxury life with a mum who finally cared and put the attention in but recently, i'd felt completely forgotten about. after her maternity leave was over, will was looking after the two boys and he didn't have much time for me- thinking i could fend for myself. at 16 i pretty much could but i still needed my parents around, especially on nights like this.

the nightmares had been back for a while now, getting worse and worse. i wanted to go back to therapy but i couldn't speak to will about it. he didn't know what i went through. only jj. i got off the floor and headed downstairs quietly. i opened the back door and sat on the swing on the porch, letting the cold air calm me down and ground me.

i don't know how long i stayed out there fore but the sound of a car on the gravel drive woke me up. i didn't move though, it was probably a neighbour. JJ had only been gone for two days, she wouldn't be back yet. however, five minutes later, i heard the back door slide open.

"will is that you?" she said, looking over at the swing but i looked back at her.

"oh y/n it's you! what you doing out here so late hm?" she said gently. she looked tired, really tired.

"i couldn't sleep," i replied. she came to sit beside me and we looked out over the lake together.

"i don't think i will be able to tonight either," she sighed.

"do you want to talk about it?" i asked, being polite.

"no darling," she chuckled. "it's not for your little head to worry about." she leaned back in the swing and caressed my blonde hair.

"do you wanna talk about why you're up?" i stayed quiet for a few minutes. i suppose this was gonna be my only chance.

"the nightmares are back," i told her.

"about the farm?" she asked. i nodded.

"but, but you don't come anymore." i used to be able to train myself to stay in the dream and wait for jj and the team to come and rescue me but she hadn't been. the torture just excelled, i wasn't rescued or saved.

"how long has it been like that love?"

"since you went back to work." i sighed. i hate having to rely on her.

"why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"i didn't have a chance too," i shrugged, being honest. she nodded, understanding.

"have you spoken to will?" i shook my head. "he doesn't know you can't sleep most nights? why haven't you gotten in with him?"

"you're not there," i said simply. "jj, you rescued me. you got me out of that farm and you took me home. not will. i, i need you," i felt small and vulnerable. she sighed and moved over on the swing, pulling me into her arms.

"i'm here now love, i'm sorry." she held me and began to swing the swing. we swayed and i settled in her arms. it was like magic.

"can you sleep with me tonight?"

"i can baby, shall we go in?" she asked. i nodded and sat up, beginning to feel the cold.

half an hour later and you and jj were curled up in your bed. you had a big bed but it was nice to have her close. your saviour.

"do you want me to call your therapist in the morning?" she asked you, playing with your hair as you laid on her chest.

"yes please." she smiled and held you tightly. then, as she did with henry, she began to tell you a story.

"once upon a time, there was a castle, hidden way in a forest..."

you fell asleep to the sound of her voice, feeling her chest move up and down as she breathed and the heart beating too. you'd needed this.

[icyy-hoon]

Hi .. hope you are doing well with beloved 🌹

iam motaz a nurse from Gaza .. married to fedaa a pediatrician .. father of 3 lovely children ..

writing to you these words with tearing eye and a heavy heart ..

it is not easy for me to ask for help from other but being a father of these lovely kids makes me very responsible for their safety and protection so i have to do any thing to keep them safe ..

we lost every thing because of this violent war !

Life here became unaffordale and unsafe for any human ..

please please help me carry my children to safety ..

i wish my words could explain even little abit of what i am carring in my heart

Vetted by 90-ghost

Please donate if you can and share widely 🆘🆘 1100 SEK = 100 dollars each (55 sek =5$) will make a difference🙏🍉 be the one who saves us

PLEASE SPREAD !! PLEASE READ !!

hi and i'm really praying that someday, you and your families and beloved will gets their justice and happiness. I am truly sorry for not being able to donate anything for now, because i'm just a 14-year old schoolgirl that still relying on her parents. But trust me, that someday will yet to come. I'll spread this message to the world and hope, that people will help you go through this living nightmare. I am trul sorry for what you've been through, and for not being able to donate anything.