#HAPPY ANGST
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It took four calls before Lena answered. It crawled across her side table, vibrating angrily like some persnickety insect until she gave it the attention she wanted.
You could just turn it off.
âWhat do you want, Danvers?â
Alexâs voice was thick.
âWe canât find Kara.â
Lena let out a slow, long, theatrical sigh. âSo now youâre accusing me of crimes over the phone. At least your ex had the courtesy to cuff me in person.â
Alexâs patience was clearly short enough, and wearing thinner.
âIâm not calling you to accuse you. Iâm calling you to ask for help.â
âAnd why would I do that?â
âBecause sheâs burned out her powers and we canât find her, Luthor. Supergirl is missing and sheâs powerless.â
Lena licked her lips.
âIs this some kind of weird test to see if Iâll try to kill her? An entrapment scheme or something?â
âFirst of all,â said Alex, âfuck you.â
âMutual,â said Lena. âWhat was the second part?â
âThe second part is that I know you. I know youâre pissed off at her. I also know that you donât react the way youâve acted because your BFF lied to you, Lena. Just like I know that buying a $875 million company isnât what friends are fucking for.â
âIâm sure I have no idea what you mean,â Lena snapped.
âRight. Help us find her.â
âNo,â Lena said, coolly. âGoodnight, Director.â
Lena stabbed the end call key with her finger, resolving to herself that L-Corp was going to release a smart phone that made it more satisfying to hang up on people.
Then she very pointedly did not go out looking for Kara. Instead, she boiled water for tea, and spread open a technical journal on her lap.
After ten minutes, she had not drunk the tea, and her attention was sliding off the abstract like the wrong end of two magnets jammed together. Rubbing at her eyes, she decided sheâd had too long a day for even light reading, and decided to enjoy a news broadcast with her tea.
Of *course* the lead story was Supergirl. She tried putting on the Lakehawks game, but that had been preempted for Supergirl coverage.
She turned to the science channel. Oh, of course theyâd decided that tonight was the night to premier some ridiculous companion documentary for the World of Krypton exhibit running downtown at the convention center, and of course Lena works tune in right as Kara appeared on screen, grinning ear to ear as she charitably gave some literal kid reporter the interview of her lifetime, fielding softball questions about her dead planet.
âWhat do you miss most?â the kid asked.
Lena saw it, saw it the way only someone who knew Supergirl was just Kara Danvers, the nerdy, dorky, kinda basic goof in a pompous costume, could. The flash of real pain in the heroâs eyes, the softness in her voice, like she was apologizing for the honest of her answer.
âRed sunrises,â said Kara.
Lena threw the teacup across the room, and it shattered across the screen, leaving the dregs tricking down the surface. Lena wished the TV had been knocked out, but the screen was shielded by a transparent aluminum sheâd invented herself.
So she changed the channel, just in time to get a face full of The Princess Bride, just as Buttercup was shoving a then-disguised Westley down the hill as he shouted the line the revealed his identity.
âOh fuck you all,â Lena muttered, as she scooped her keys from the kitchen counter.
Lena decided it was a night for subtlety, so she took the BMW, driving with the top down and and her phone in her jacket pocket, so she could feel it if someone called.
Lena drove for the better part of an hour, reflecting on the absurdity of simply looking for Kara in a sprawling city; National City had about two thirds the population of Metropolis, but it covered nearly four times the land area and was surrounded by sprawling suburbs that extended the entire metro area to the size of a small state.
This was hopeless, unless Lena knew where to go.
You know what you have to do. You know what youâve always had to do.
Kara answered on the third ring.
âHi.â
Her voice was tiny and small, and Lena felt like she was clutching some small fragile thing to her cheek.
âHey,â she said, with all the softness she could muster with the top down. She pulled to a stop on the side of Ocean Avenue so she could soften it further. âI heard what happened.â
âI beat the monster.â
âI know,â said Lena. âYou always do. Where are you, Kara?â
There was a beat of silence.
âI donât know who out you up to this, but you donât have to do it, Lena. I know how you feel about me now.â
No, you fucking donât, Lena thought, before she could silence her own frantic mind. If you knew you wouldnât have lied to me.
âTell me where you are.â
âIâm where I belong,â Kara sighed, the hint of slurring in her words hinting that sheâd been drinking.
Then she hung up.
A wave of anger welled in Lenaâs chest, and she clenched her teeth, seizing the shift lever to throw the car in drive and head home; Kara and her sister could handle their own bullshit.
She didnât drive home.
Lena arrived at the convention center in a frantic five minutes, parking crazily in a towing zone. Finding a way in took another few minutes, and soon the flat soles of her tennis shoes were squeaking as they echoed across the polished granite floors of the lobby.
She found Kara in the exhibit, surrounded by quiet, dark displays as she stood in front of a bannered exhibit proclaiming âRAO, THE SUN OF KRYPTONâ.
Kara ignored Lena as she approached, tipping back a sloshing, mostly empty bottle of Jack Daniels to take a hearty gulp.
âKara?â said Lena.
Kara swayed slightly on her feet. Sheâd gotten a raincoat somewhere and put it on over her suit, cape and all, and even from a distance she stank of whiskey. She was staring at the display in front of her, an expansive orrery surrounding a lit model of Rao. Lena had never seen her so haggard, even her lustrous hair limp sallow.
âHi,â Kara said, taking another drink.
âWhat are you doing?â
âChasing a red sunrise.â
Lena approached slowly, until they stood side by side.
She stole a quick glance. Kara had a black eye and she was swaying slightly, and Lena wasnât sure if it was from the booze or the fight. She started to take another drink.
Grasping the bottle by the neck, Lena took it from her. Kara didnât resist as Lena tipped back a long pull on the bottle herself. It offended her palate in every possible way but one, but it was a good way to numb herself.
âAlex send you?â
âNo,â said Lena. âShe just had to tell me. She knew Iâd send myself.â
âWhy?â
âBecause sheâs a lot more observant than you are.â
Kara studied her for a moment, then reached for the bottle back.
Lena looked at it. âHow much of this have you had?â
âNot enough,â said Kara, taking another drink.â
âIf you insist on destroying your liver, at least let me give you something that actually tastes good.â
âIt all tastes like paint thinner,â said Kara.
Lena sighed. âGet in the car.â
Kara shrugged and followed Lena out, flopping extravagantly in the passengerâs seat. Lena drove in silence, using the excuse that the wind noise made it too hard to talk.
When they arrived at Lenaâs apartment, she practically shoved Kara inside, and poured the rest of the swill down the drain.
âHey,â Kara muttered.
âThereâs still some of your clothes in the guest bedroom. Take that damned suit off and put on something else.â
Kara complied, trudging into the bedroom. She emerged a moment later, looking small and sad with her hands tucked up inside an oversized hoodie, wobbling giving Lena a glassy look.
As she sat down, Lena handed her a glass of wine and perched on the edge of the couch cushion beside her, gently pressing an ice pack to her eye. Kara leaned into it and let out a soft, unsteady sigh.
âPain hurts,â she observed.
âItâll do that.â
Then she went quiet, sinking into Lenaâs couch with Lenaâs ice pack pressed to her face. Lena stepped into the kitchen and pulled out her phone. Alex answered immediately.
âI have her.â
âThank God. Iâll be over to get her in a few minutes.â
âNo you wonât,â Lena sighed.
Alex didnât answer her for a too-long pause.
âYeah. Call me in the morning.â
âWill do.â
Kara had found the wine bottle when Lena came back, and was taking a drink form it. Lena sat down next to her and took it, drawing on it hard before passing it back.â
âWhat now?â said Kara.
âIs the ice still cold?â
âYeah.â
Kara curled up next to Lena, bringing her legs up, her toes wiggling in empty air. Lena sighed and found her a blanket, spreading it over her too carefully.
As soon as Lena sat down, Kara spread the blanket over her, too, and Lena noticed that her absurd body heat hadnât abated from the loss of her powers.
âYou have tea on your TV,â Kara observed.
âYeah,â said Lena.
It took her a few minutes to find something on television that wasnât Supergirl or The Fox and the Hound.
(Fucking seriously?)
Nature documentaries were Karaâs kryptonite, to turn a phrase, and soon she was sleeping on Lenaâs shoulder, the ice bag fallen into her lap. Lena stared down at the soft features of the surpassingly lovely little goddess snoozing against her and couldnât help it anymore.
She started to weep softly, her shoulders hitching as she struggled to stop it, knowing the attempt was hopeless.
It got worse when Kara began to purr, a deep and soothing rumble in her chest that seemed to seep into Lenaâs bones. After a moment she realized that Kara was crying too; sheâd woken up.
âIâm sorry,â she whimpered. âIâm so fucking sorry, Lena. I canât⌠I canât breathe Iâm so sorry. I lost my red sunrise. I canât lose you too. Iâll do anything. Please let me make it up to you I promise I will, please.â
Lena shifted to a more comfortable position, known this was it for the night, that something had shifted. No, shattered. She was tired of being angry, of being afraid, if thinking of could-have-beens and come-what-mays. Yes, Kara had lied. Lena had lied. Theyâd kept secrets and been stupid and and theyâd hurt each other, but nothing in the world, no principles or closely held rules or petty anger would justify watching her suffer like this.
She was careful as she cupped Karaâs jaw, avoiding the injury, feeling a flash of rage at whoever had done this to her. (That his ass had been throughly kicked by an angry Kryptonian was irrelevant; her vengeance would not be forestalled.)
The kiss was quiet and gentle, at once too soft and quick, more request than declaration, and Kara swiftly answered with one so fierce and honest and hopeful that Lena didnât care that Karaâs mouth tasted like whiskey and wine.
When it was over, Lena found herself whispering, âAs you wish.â
#supercorp#supergirl fanfiction#supergirl#supercorp fanfic#lena luthor#kara danvers#kara x lena#karlena#supergirl fanfic#ficlet#literally made myself cry#angst#angst with a happy ending#happy angst#âhangst as it were#Kryptonians can purr#not canon compliant
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Quick Severus Snape Headcannon:
Despite what others believe, Severus Snape and Lily Evans passed notes to eachother in class (if they were done with their classwork) and sometimes in the library when they studied.
Severus kept all of the folded notes in a little wooden box and re-read them later on.
After a long, tiring day of teaching dunderhead students, Professor Snape goes into his office and opens up the locked desk drawer with the little wooden box in it. Once in a blue moon, the shadow of a smile crosses the grumpy professors face while he looks at the contents of the box.
(Check out my other posts if you like this Severus headcannon, I plan to add more headcannons)
#severus snape headcanon#severus snape#snape headcanon#young severus#pro severus#severus snape headcanons#snily#pro snilly#platonic snily#snape angst#happy angst
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@fluentineighties
Tubbs feels herself moving to Sonny's side, as if drawn by magnetic force. Her puzzled eyes flash over him with anxious apprehension. "What is that?"
With the pulse of her heartbeat palpable within her throat, she attempts to swallow down a sense of dread. It looks like a box of wires attached to something-- explosive. Knots immediately form in her stomach as she gesticulates for the other officers to get back. "Wh-where did you get it?" With a curse contained to the harsh exhale, she murmurs, "and don't you go saying Radio Shack--"
#while I work on your ask enjoy an unasked for starter#fluentineighties#Muse: Tubbs#Tubbs x Crockett#HAPPY ANGST
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What Sasuke learns from his trauma;
People who love you will still hurt you.
Don't trust anyone or anything.
You can only rely on yourself.
No one is coming to save you.
Being weak means getting hurt.
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you can pry happy endings from my cold-dead hands. It can be the most heart stopping, gut wrenching fic that has every existed and I will read every drop of it if I get my happy ending. I have had enough painful endings in real life, give me happy in my fantasy world. It can be at the last second, it can be a single sentence, even a single word. Give me all the angst and hurt in the world for 500,000 words, but please give me the comfort I need in the ending. please and thank you.
#do I love angst? yes. but also need to be happy in my delulu world for five seconds#sometimes you need domestic fluff to soothe the burn#fan fiction#ao3#hurt/comfort#steddie#stranger things#lumax#byler#ronance#steve harrington#Eddie Munson#archive of our own#wattpad#robin buckley#steve x eddie#happy endings
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Moonlight
If he ever manages to escape there will be nothing left for him to return to.
He is a dead man walking.
#i dont know what the hell im doing#digital art#sketch#art#roblox pressure#sebastian solace#pressure sebastian#pressure fanart#mel doodles#comic#angst#itâs never gonna be canon but a girl can dream đ#I just want him to be happy
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quick itfs sketch page
#my art#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#yuji itadori#megumi fushiguro#itafushi#fushiita#jjk fanart#jujutsu kaisen fanart#yuuji#megumi#fr some reason it's rare fr me to b happy with monochrome pieces so i am combatting tht general dislike by making it itfs#harder 2 dislike smth when it's a bunch of sketches of my ship kissing#oh ya threw in some good ol Corner Angst also bc i ended up not wanting 2 draw a third kiss dsfhjshdsdfjg#doing this got me thinking about tht one itfs piece i did back in april#captioned smth smth 'im on an itafushi kick'#n how that was like. the piece that opened the floodgates n made me realize how actually insane i am abt them#before it was just a casual Yeah This Ship Is Cute ill draw for it when the mood strikes#then after doing tht draws i ws like wait a minute whats happening to me#now here i am 5 months later completely emotionally dependent on these 2 traumatized 15 year olds#anyway this sheet is kind of an homage 2 the other one :'> how far ive come. how far theyve come. they make me ill every waking hour
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pots n picks week - day 7: free day
#potsnpicksweek2024#my art#dungeon meshi#chilchuck tims#senshi#chilshi#pots n picks#aaaand thats it folks!#never drawing angst! I love being happy!#this was super fun to do. My second time participating in a shipweek ^_^ shoutout to cab for organizing!!! i love you
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⥠I hope 2024 brings every fanfic writer lots of juicy, spicy, angsty, whumpy, crazy, delicious ideas and motivation. may words flow smoothly through your mind and may you find pure joy and satisfaction in your writing. you will do great. I am rooting for you.
#happy new year#2024#new year#writer#writing#ao3#archive of our own#whump#whumpblr#writing inspo#writeblr#writing inspiration#writing community#writers on ao3#writers on tumblr#writer on ao3#angst#fanfic#fanfiction#writer on tumblr#whump community#whump blog#writing challenge#fandom#fandoms
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What if Mike got the bad ending of the FNAF movie..
#myart#chloesimagination#comic#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#mike schmidt#abby schmidt#ella fnaf#fnaf chica#fnaf movie#fnaf fanart#okay time for yalls weekly angst#now and again I think about the scenario where Mike was too late to save Abby#maybe by minutes or seconds#just thinking how horrific that would of been#Mike losing both him siblings#and Abby staying with her friends forever..#ITS SO sad thatâs why I havenât drawn it sooner#Iâve had this idea since the movie dropped but didnât have the strength to draw it out đ#Iâm not joking if anything happens to Abby or Mike Iâll lose my mind#Iâm so invested in them I just want them to be happy#begging for the movies to never hurt them I canât take it
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After the fall....
đ¨DO NOT REPOSTđ¨
#my artwork#digital art#illustration#fan art#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fanart#hazbin hotel au#angst writing#hazbin hotel comic#hazbin art#hazbin hotel emily#hazbin emily#hazbin hotel sera#hazbin hotel angst#angst with a happy ending#angst comic#angst#hazbin#hazbin hotel art
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some more of my cadet batch au, ft. some clingy omega
#the bad batch#star wars#star wars the bad batch#cadet batch au#mod's cadet batch au#sw tbb#tbb season 3#tbb s3#the bad batch season 3#tbb omega#tbb wrecker#tbb hunter#sergeant hunter#clone force 99#mods art#mods draws#my art#they are my little goobers <3#i'm providing some happy stuff w this au before i dump all the angst lol
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"Do you regret it?"
"It's for the best."
"Do you miss them?"
"I'll never forget this ache for the rest of my life."
Part 4 [end] | Part 3 [prev]
#twst#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland fanart#yuu#twst yuu#epel felmier#ace trappola#deuce spade#jack howl#sebek zigvolt#ortho shroud#twst grim#ending the angstfest with more angst#theres hints of happy ending#thanks for following along this series#i know it seems short here but it has been on going for 1-2 months on my twt đ#they had to wait 1 month for part 4 đđ#this is what happens when school kicks me butt#mizudrew#mizuiscomical
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was i stupid to love you?
in which a lingering glance at Rossiâs wedding threatens your engagement.
content: angst, 4.8k, takes place right after truth or dare (14x15), a lot of dialogue, mention of prison arc, emotional distress, relationship conflict, not proofread a/n: when was the last time you saw me write angst? exactly. this is inspired by malcolm & marie bc i really like the idea of having an argument while moving around the house (also disclaimer i have nothing against JJ i just like being dramatic)
The lock clicks open. The door swings with a creak. Your heels tap against the hardwood in a hollow rhythm that feels almost too loud. Thereâs a tightness in your chest, that prickling behind your eyes, and a familiar ache pressing up from the pit of your stomach, churning into a faint nausea that you try to ignore. Youâre trying to hold it back.
Not here.
Not now.
Spencer doesnât even look up. The keys slip from his hand with a soft clink as they hit the side table, and he turns away with a quiet sigh that reverberates deep in your bones.
âAre you hungry?â he asks, tossing a glance toward the kitchen. âThink we could order something?â
You trail after him, the sharp click of your heels echoing as you step onto the kitchen tile. âWe just came back from a wedding.â
Heâs rifling through the cupboard, his fingers brushing over the mismatched mugs and neatly stacked plates before he pulls down two glasses. âI barely ate anything at the reception.â
You watch him, biting back a response as memories flicker to mind. The slice of cake heâd poked at absentmindedly, washing it down with sips of water instead of real food.
It wasnât hunger he seemed focused on tonight. No, it was his quiet glances across the room you keep on catching from the corner of your eye, and that conversation heâd had at the bar. The one where his posture softened, his gaze so intent youâd found yourself staring at the back of his head, trying not to read too much into itâand obviously failing.
âWhy didnât you eat?â
He shrugs, his back still to you as he fills the glasses with water. âI donât know,â he says, sounding almost absent, like itâs something he hasnât really thought about. âI didnât get around to it, I guess.â
The muscles in your jaw ticks as you bite the inside of your cheeks.
Spencer turns, offering you a glass. âI was thinking of Chinese, or maybe we can check if that Thai place you like is still open.â
You take the glass from him, barely sparing it a glance before setting it back down on the counter. âWhatever you want is fine.â
A subtle crease appears between his brows. âYou sure? You usually have some opinion when it comes to food.â
âIâm not hungry.â
âYou donât want to eat anything?â
You suppress a sigh. "No. I'm tired."
The soft amber of his eyes dims slightly as he studies you. There's a flicker of uncertainty passing through them before he nods. âAlright,â he concedes. âWe donât have to order anything.â
A faint, humorless laugh escapes you before you can stop it. It tastes bitter, a little unfair, but it slips out before you can pull it back, âYou donât have to change your plans on my account, Spencer.â
âIâm not changing any plans,â he responds. âIâm just making sure you have something to eat in case youâre hungry.â
Your shoes dig uncomfortably into your feet. You shift your weight, starting to pace a few steps back and forth. "It's dinner, you don't have to check on me for every little thing. Do whatever you like."
He blinks, looking genuinely perplexed. "What are you saying? I was trying to be considerate."
"Right. Considerate.â
Thereâs an unmistakable bite in your tone.
âYes, because we like doing these things together," he observes, watching your uneasy pacing. "Am I missing something here?â
You shake your head. âNope.â
"Honey."
The term of endearment lands softly, slipping from his lips like he believes it has the power to melt whatever tension has suddenly crept between you. But it only tightens the knot building in your stomach. Itâs stirring the words youâre trying to hold back, tangling them somewhere between your chest and throat.
He calls your name this time, his eyes narrowing into sharp lines. âYouâve been awfully quiet on our way home, and now youâre⌠honestly, I donât know why you're acting this way.â His voice dips with a tinge of exasperation. "Whatâs this really about?"
The words youâve been biting back feel like a stack of stones in your throat, rising up, up, up, each one pressed tighter by the gnawing nausea in your stomach. You can feel them gathering, and before you know it, they tumble out messily.
âIâm just saying, donât let me hold you back from getting what you want. I wouldnât want to stop you from anythingâor, god forbid," you add, letting your gaze drift away as if a little distance might soften the blow, âanyone.â
The soft, almost stifled inhale he takes is audible. You donât even have to look up to see his expression shifting. Youâve known him long enough to recognize the way his shoulders tense, the way his breathing slows as he processes your words. You know his reaction by heart, yet right now, you wonder if saying this was a mistake, if this is the start of something neither of you can take back.
His fingers twitching at his side slip into your line of sight. He's angry.
Maybe this isnât the time to start a fight.
âWhat is that supposed to mean?â
Your heels click softly as you turn.
âForget it. I shouldn't have said anything,â you mutter, already moving toward the bedroom thatâs been yours, too, for the past year. Although it feels strange tonight, like a space that belongs to someone else. A life youâre not entirely sure you belong in.
âNo." His voice is somewhere behind you. âI think you should explain to me what you mean by that.â
You donât respond, choosing instead to sink onto the edge of the bed, hands fumbling as you try to undo the straps of your heels. You twist the stubborn leather with more force. His shadow fills the doorway.
âHoney.â
Not again.
You decide to ignore him.
âIs there something youâd like to say to me?â
You tug harder at the strap. âNo.â
He doesnât buy it. âYouâre clearly bothered by something.â
You shake your head, fingers still fumbling, the leather cutting against your ankle with each pull. âIâm just tired. Can we leave it at that?â
Thereâs a flicker of frustration in his gaze now, a crease forming between his brows as he studies you. He moves into the room. You barely have the chance to react before he lowers himself, bending one knee to the floor as he reaches toward the strap youâve been fighting with. âHere, let meââ
âDonât,â you interrupt, pulling your foot away. âI can do it myself.â
âI know you can. But let meââ
âI can do it myself!â
Your heartbeat thuds loud in your ears, each pulse feeding the frustration thatâs wound its way up from your chest. He rises slowly, not a word passing his lips, but the tension radiates off him like heat. Heâs close enough that his warmth presses against your skin, although itâs not the kind you usually find comforting. Itâs almost suffocating.
You turn your focus back to the stubborn strap, your fingers trembling slightly as you struggle to grip it. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him slipping off his shoes, one after the other, the soft thuds barely audible over the rush of your own heartbeat. He pulls off his suit jacket, carefully smoothing the crumpled fabric before hanging it in the closet. For a moment, it seems like heâs going to let it go⌠until his gaze drifts back to you.
You can tell his patience is fraying, and youâre proven right when he asks again, âWhat did you mean by that? When you said you wouldnât want to stop me from anyone⌠what was that supposed to mean?â
You finally manage to tug the strap loose. The heel drops to the floor with a muted thump. âIt was nothing.â
âI donât think youâd say something like that if it was nothing.â
Your focus shifts to the other shoe. âJust drop it, Spencer.â
"How am I supposed to drop it when you're implying... whatever it is you're implying?"
You keep your eyes down, wrestling with the strap in silence. He cuts through the quiet before it has a chance to grow.
âDonât do that,â he says. âDonât brush it off like itâs nothing when it clearly means something. I need to know why you said that.â
You kick off the other heel and meet his gaze for the first time since you walked into the room. âYou really want to know?â
He reaches for his bow tie, yanking it loose it with one hard pull. âDo I want to know why youâre giving me this attitude right now? Yes. Yes, I do.â
Oh. So this is going to be that kind of fight.
You hadnât expected it to go here. Fights with Spencer are very rare, usually more a clash of misunderstandings that you both laugh about with limbs tangled between sheets by the time youâve made peace. But seeing him standing there with the tie hanging loosely around his neck and his five oâclock shadow casting an even darker line along his jaw, it hits you differently.
This is real. And this time, you donât know if brushing it off will fix anything.
âFine, letâs talk about it then.â You rise from the bed, tension carrying you to your feet. âEmilyâs speech tonight.â
His brow furrows, not quite a scowl, more a cautious crease as he processes your tone. âEmilyâs speech? What about it?â
âWhat do you remember of it?â
Thereâs a slight pause, and you can tell he's clearly caught off guard by the question. âShe mentioned how Rossi and Krystal are twin flames."
âRight. Two souls that are always meant to be together.â
His face is still marked by confusion, but thereâs something else creeping in. A subtle tightening around his eyes tells you heâs starting to piece it together. âI donât understand what that has to do withââ
âYou looked at JJ the second Emily made that speech,â you cut him off. âSpencer, you didnât even spare a glance at your future wife because you were too busy making eyes at the woman whoâs apparently been in love with you all these years.â
There. You said it. The words that have twisted around your insides all evening are finally out. And maybe they taste a little bitter, but at least they're not choking you anymore.
A second passes, then another, and by the time the fifth heartbeat ticks by, heâs standing there with his hand on his hip.
âThatâs not what happened."
âThen what was it?â you demand. "I sat beside you the whole day, you didn't even try to hide it."
âThatâs notâyouâre twisting things.â His hand moves through his hair, fingers digging in as his curls tumble forward onto his forehead. âAnd you know what happened that night wasnât real. It was a forced confession. She was under duress, we both were. JJ and I are just friends.â
You arch an eyebrow. âYou look at all your friends like that?â
His hand drops to his side. "I don't know what else you want me to say. JJ said what she did because she thought we might die. She has a family, and a husband who she loves. We already went through this, I don't understand why this is suddenly an issue again."
âMaybe I wouldnât be bringing this up if you didnât look at her tonight like you were ready to break up that marriage yourself.â
A flash of shock and anger crosses his features.
âThatâs not fair,â he snaps, his voice sharper than youâve heard in a while. âDo you really think Iâd disregard everything I have with you because of a look? Because of a history that has never gone anywhere?â
âI donât know what to think. It's not like it happened just once, I saw you looking at her the same way at the bar." You step forward, accidentally kicking your discarded heel as you move. "What were you two talking about, anyway?â
He lets out a tight breath. âShe was checking in on me. She⌠we havenât talked much since then.â
The corners of your mouth pull down. âMhm. Another round of truth or dare?â
âI canât believe youâre using that against me." His hair flops forward as he shakes his head, falling messily over his brow. "If there were anything unresolved with JJ, I wouldâve said something. But I didnât, because thereâs nothing there."
âAnd yet, sheâs always been an important part of your life, hasn't she?"
He tilts his head. "What are trying to say now?"
Your tongue darts out, briefly brushing your lips. You're not sure you should say it, but it feels like a door has swung openâa door to words that have been waiting for their moment.
You take a slow, deep breath, filling your lungs with as much air as you can.
âWhen you were in prison, you put her on your visiting list ahead of almost everyone else. Doesnât that say something about where she stands with you?â
He exhales sharply, dragging a hand over the back of his neck.
âSheâs part of the team,â he says, as if heâs trying to spell out something heâs already explained a dozen times. "There were strict rules, I already told you that only a handful of people were allowed to visit. It wasnât like I could just put anyone on the list.â
âBut you couldâve put me on there!â
The familiar burn of tears prickles at the edges of your eyes, but you blink them back, refusing to let them fall. An explanation or protest is poised on his lips, but youâre already moving, closing the distance with a single, decisive step. A finger lands on his chest.
âI was your girlfriend, Spencer. Were you that determined to keep me out? Was the thought of seeing me really so unbearable? Do you even understand how hard it was to sit at home, knowing you were locked up, feeling completely helpless? Do you have any idea how much I hated myself day after day because I couldnât do anything to help you?â
Your lips quiver. You feel like your heart is about to leap out of your throat.
âI was out here, just⌠waiting. Wondering if you were okay, if they were treating you alright, if you even had someone to talk to. And meanwhile, sheâs there, with you. Every single time, sheâs the one who gets to be by your side.â
Your nail digs into the fabric of his shirt.
âSo forgive me if I canât just let that go. Because when it mattered, it felt like you didnât want me to be there for you. And now⌠now I donât even know if you need me the way you seem to need her.â
Your breathing turns shallow, each inhale catching in your chest. The tears youâve been holding back are dangerously blurring your vision. You swallow the knot lodged in your throat.
âI need a minute.â
Without another word, you turn and walk out of the room, leaving him standing there in stunned silence. You slip back into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as you finally reach for the glass of water thatâs been sitting there untouched. You take a sip, barely feeling the cool water on your lips, when you hear his footsteps behind you.
âYou think I donât want you in my life?â he demands. âYou think I somehow need her more than I need you?â
You set the glass down. âWhat part of âI need a minuteâ do you not understand?â
âYou really expect me to wait quietly after you unloaded every doubt youâve ever had about us?â
You life your chin up. âYes, I do. I need space to think right now.â
âWhat more do you want to think about when youâve already convinced yourself that Iâm always going to fall short? Is it so hard to believe that youâre the one I want?â
âYou want to know why itâs so damn hard to believe?â You turn towards him. âBecause every time I try to let this go, thereâs always something. A confession. Thatâthat not-so-subtle look. And when those things happen, it reminds me that Iâm not as close to you as she is. Iâm fucking tired of feeling like Iâm fighting for space in your life.â
âDo you think I want you to feel like that? Do you think Iâd go through everything weâve been through if you didnât matter to me?â
âThen explain to me why I wasnât on that list!â you cry out. âExplain to me why, in one of the hardest times of your life, you couldnât make space for me?â
âBecause I was trying to protect you!â
A heavy, dreadful silence falls between you. He takes a step back, his eyelids fluttering shut briefly, and when he opens them again, thereâs a softness in his gaze that mirrors the gentleness now threading through his voice.
âI know it probably doesnât make sense to you, and maybe it never will, but I couldnât stand the idea of you seeing me like that. Living through it was hard enough, but having you there, seeing me so helpless⌠It would have crushed me. I didnât want that to be your memory of me.â
His Adamâs apple dips as he swallows, a quick, almost anxious movement youâve witnessed countless times.
âAnd when JJ came to see me,â he continues, âthe way the inmates looked at her, the things they said after she left⌠it was disgusting. I couldnâtâwouldnâtâlet that happen to you. I couldnât live with thought of you being subjected to that because of me.â
You lower your head with a sigh. âI donât care if they looked. I donât care what they wouldâve thought.â
âBut I care,â he fires back, taking a step forward. âBecause you mean more to me than anyone. All I wanted was to keep you safe, and maybe I didn't handle it right, maybe I made the wrong call... but it was only because Iâ" His voice drops into an even more gentle note. "Because I love you."
Your heart stumbles, an uneven beat that feels almost bruised, pounding hard against your ribs.
"I-I love you so much. More than I know how to put into words." The ache in your chest sharpens as his hands come up to cup your cheeks. "I don't like fighting with you. I hate it, actually. I hate seeing you look at me like this."
You also hate the way heâs looking at you. Thereâs a depth to his annoyingly pretty eyes that makes it impossible to hold up your defenses without feeling them crumble. You let your eyes flutter closed.
âWhy donât we⌠call it a night?â He suggests. âLetâs lie down. We donât have to talk about this now.â
The blackness behind your eyelids does little to quiet your mind. Nor does his voice. Or his touch. Instead of offering peace, his presence throws every glance, every moment of tension from tonight into sharper relief.
You draw in a breath, trying to find some comfort in his palms against your cheeks. Yet, even this canât smooth away the doubt thatâs settled in. With a resigned sigh, you release the breath youâve been holding along with the words that have been pressing at the back of your throat.
âYou havenât explained it to me.â
The shadows in his gaze seem to deepen when you open your eyes.
âWhat do you mean?â
âWeâve been going in circles, but you havenât explained to me what happened tonight,â you say quietly. âWhy did you look at her, Spencer?â
His thumb absently strokes your cheek in a way that feels more hesitant than reassuring.
âBe honest with me,â you press. âWas there a part of you, even the tiniest part, that still wanted something with her? Some small part of you that⌠wondered what it might be like?â
The silence between you presses in from all sides, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant, muffled ticking of a clock on the wall. Itâs the kind of quiet that sharpens even the smallest sounds, yet his lack of response feels like the loudest thing of all.
You pull back from him with an incredulous laugh.
âUnbelievable.â The word barely makes it past your lips, then louder as you start to move, pacing the length of the apartment. âUnbelievable.â
âWait,â he says, trailing after you, âI didnât even say anything.â
You stop short by the couch and whip around to face him.
âYou didnât need to! Youâyou hesitated," you stammer, searching his face for any flicker of denial, but itâs there, plain as day, that split-second of doubt you caught. âThat was already an answer.â
He inches closer. A hand closes in on you. âPleaseââ
You flinch, pulling back, and every muscle in your body tightens. âDonât. Donât touch me right now.â
His hand falls to his side. âPlease⌠let me explain."
You watch his hand drop, fingers twitching like theyâre not sure if they should retreat or reach out again, but he keeps them there, hovering in some invisible line youâve drawn. He looks at you with those big, pleading eyes, and for a split second, you almost feel bad for him.
Almost.
A bitter sort of smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. "So now you want to explain?"
He takes that as permission, and his voice comes in low, almost cautious. "When I first started at the BAU, I had⌠maybe a crush. A passing thing, barely anything, really. But that was fourteen years ago.â His hand scrubs through his hair in a frustrated sweep. âFourteen years."
Your brows pull into a frown. âWhy am I only hearing about this now?â
âBecause it was nothing,â he says, almost too quickly. âI was young, it didnât matter. I didnât think it was worth bringing up.â
âOh, I get it now. All those old feelings came rushing back the night she confessed, didnât they?â
He mirrors your frown, a visible line of tension etching itself between his brows as he protests, âItâs nothing like that.â
âThen what is it?â you press. âBecause from where Iâm standing, it looks a whole lot like youâre caught between us because some part of you is still hung up on what mightâve been with her."
He shifts uncomfortably, and you notice the muscles in his jaw clenching the moment his gaze falters, dipping away for just a heartbeat before he looks back at you.
âItâs not that I donât know what I want,â he starts to explain. âI didnât expect her to say those things, and, yes, it threw me off for a moment. But that doesnât mean Iâm looking back, or that I want her. I want you.â
You shake your head, feeling a tired sort of frustration settle over you, and walk over to the couch. The soft cushions give slightly beneath you as you sink down.
âIf you really wanted me, this wouldnât be happening. You wouldnât have let her get into your head like that. And now, you expect to believe that none of it meant anything?â
Heâs quick to follow, closing the distance in a few tense steps. âItâs notââ His hands flex open and close at his sides. âYouâre acting like one single look tonight is enough to decide Iâm not committed to you. Do you really think Iâd let some confession I didnât even ask for get in the way of what we have?â
âItâs not just about that single look. Itâs the way she could say something and suddenly, youâre pulled back to something you swore youâd put behind you. How am I supposed to feel secure when she still has that power over you?â
âAnd what am I supposed to do, then? Apologize for things I donât even feel anymore?â
You flinch at the sharpness in his voice. A low, frustrated noise rumbles in his chest when you donât respond.
âYouâre always going to question me no matter what I say, arenât you?"
You glance over at him, catching the disheveled strands of hair falling over his forehead, and it pulls you back to that night he came home after that dreadful night. Heâd walked in looking worn in a way youâd never seen before, his whole posture weighted down as if he was carrying more than just the fear of being held hostage.
You remember sitting with him on this same couch, fingers brushing his, and asking what was bothering him.
JJ said she loved me.
Your heart lurched, a quick, quiet ache that you tried to swallow down. Really?
Donât worry. Itâs not true.
But with that same haunted look in his eyes right now, you canât help but wonder if it really was just a well-intentioned lie.
âOne glance and youâre accusing me of things that are never going to happen,â he starts again. âDo you really think so little of me? After everything weâve shared, you really think Iâd betray you like that?â
In true honesty, you donât believe he would ever cross that line. But the doubts still linger, fed by those small hesitations, the moments when his eyes seem somewhere else. Itâs not that you think heâd betray you. Itâs that a part of him might still be holding onto something he wonât let you see.
âItâs like you donât know me at all.â
Now those words you might actually believe.
âMaybe I donât,â you say quietly, eyes drifting to the ring on your finger. You twist it absently, remembering the night he proposed. How heâd stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing as he tried to make the moment perfect but ended up rambling in that endearing, nervous way of his. Youâd laughed, reassured him that it was exactly right, that you didnât need grand gestures. All you needed was him.
And yet, you donât think he needs you as much you need him.
A hollow ache settles around your hand as you slip the ring off.
âWhat are you doing?â
You stare down at the gold band in your palm, blinking back the sting of tears.
âTell me what youâre doing.â
Panic. Desperation. Thereâs a sudden rush of melancholy in his voice, a heaviness that wasnât there a moment ago.
You swallow the lump in your throat. âI donât know,â you whisper. âIâI donât know anything right now.â
His face crumples, and in a sudden, almost instinctive movement, he drops down to his knees.
âNo, no, you do know me. Iâm sorry⌠Iâm so sorry. Isnât thisââ he stops, then dips his head, trying to catch your gaze. âIsnât that what couples do? They argue, they mess things up⌠but they work through it, right? Right?â
You look down, feeling the cool weight of the ring pressing into your skin.
âSpencerâŚâ you begin. âI trust you. I do, and Iâm sorry if I made it seem like I didnât. But⌠I need to feel secure. I⌠I need to know that I donât have to wonder or worry about where I stand. I never thought youâd be the one to make me doubt that.â
Thereâs a sharp ache in your chest.
âI didnât think it could hurt this much. Not from you.â
Your pulse ring in your ear.
âI canâtââ The words catch in your throat, a stinging burn rising as you force them out. âI canât be your wife when Iâm constantly questioning if I have all of you. When I feel like⌠thereâs always a part of you that isnât mine.â
âIâm yours, honey. Iâm always yours.â
âI wish I could believe that.â
Thereâs a slight falter in his voice. âDonâtâplease donât do thisââ
âI canât keep pretending it doesnât hurt.â
He falls silent, and for a moment, the only sound is the rough, uneven rhythm of both your breaths filling the space between you. Then, like something inside him finally cracks open, he sinks down, pressing his forehead against your lap. The sudden weight of him forces a broken sob from your throat.
âPlease,â he begs, fingers clutching at your sides. His chin presses deep into your thigh. âTell me how to fix this. I canâtâ I canât lose you.â
âSpenceâŚâ
âI love you,â he blurts out, the words tumbling from him in a rush. âI love you.â
But what is love, really? Is it just a word people reach for when theyâve run out of things to say, a way to patch over bruised hearts and broken promises? Or should it feel like something more solid, something that doesnât leave you questioning or aching? You canât even tell anymore.
You wonder, too, if maybe youâve been wrong all along. If this feeling in your chest isnât love but something dressed up as it, something that fills the gaps while slowly hollowing you out. Because here you are, clinging to a love that somehow makes you feel like youâre both needed and unseen. Everything and nothing all at once.
You feel like a fool.
âI want to go to bed.â
His head lifts from your lap, a flash of surprise darting across his face, as though he hadnât expected you to say anything at all, let alone that. âYeah, okay, letâs go to bed. Weâll⌠weâll figure this out in the morning.â
âIâd rather be alone.â
The words hit him visibly. His mouth opens, an argument forming there, but he catches himself, letting the silence stretch before he nods slowly.
âThen⌠Iâll stay out here. On the couch,â he offers softly. âJust⌠in case you need anything.â
A pang cuts through you at the thought of him stretched out on the couch, his legs too long, his shoulders folded in to fit the cramped space. But the idea of sharing a bed right now feels impossible.
You reach down, holding out the ring towards him.
âNo,â he says firmly, gently pushing your hand away. âDonât do that. This⌠it doesnât mean weâre giving up. It just means we need time. Thatâs all.â
Youâre not sure if your mind will change in the morning. The ring presses into your skin, but finally, you close your hand around it, nodding faintly before you peel away from him.
The tears start the moment the bedroom door clicks shut behind you. It spills over in a jagged, helpless cry that sounds nothing like you imagined heartbreak might sound. Itâs messy, a kind of aching grief that feels too big for your chest, clawing its way out with no grace at all. You can practically hear how pathetic you sound, and yet you canât seem to stop.
Even when the hem of your dress trails across the floor. Even when you finally collapse onto his side of the bed. Thereâs no stopping you. With the ring sitting cold in your hand, your tears keep coming, soaking into the pillow as you cling to the last trace of him woven into the sheets.
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid angst#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x female reader#spencer reid fem!reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds x reader#angst#angst with no happy ending
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Hello Ethubs nation :]
no text version
#gremnda art#this is the silliest thing i've drawn in a while and i am so happy w it#i just read a heavy angst fic with etho and bdubs#this is my way of coping guys let me have this#ethubs#hermitshipping#trafficshipping#ethoslab#bdoubleo100#oo look at me go making ship art#guys im from dsmp fandom i feel like im committing an actual crime by drawing ship art#please be nice i will cry
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â accidents happen â || tokyo rev.
cont.
synopsis: in which they discover you had their child and kept it from them all these years later.
pairing: bonten x fem!reader [ mikey, ran, sanzu ]
warnings: mature content ahead. MDI. mature language, crude humor, angst (if you squint really hard), deadbeat!bonten (unintentionally), not proof-read so there may be errors lol and i think thatâs it :))
notes: i just want the drama >:) may make more parts, and even extend said headcannons into longer fics in the future, but wanted to post something quick for motherâs day. hope you enjoy!
When you disappeared off the face of the earth, MIKEY had never been the same. One fight. One argument that spiraled out of control, and you were just gone...
He had people looking for you for about a couple years, the trail ran cold after a while and he had half a mind to think you were dead. Up until he got intel of your whereabouts one morning during a meeting.
That man got up and left immediately.
He wasnât accompanied with any of his men, only because he didnât want to draw any unwanted attention in the broad daylight. Sure, him wearing a black hood, ball cap, and mask in a park didnât really help him look inconspicuous but it at least concealed his identity enough for him to blend in. Mikey sat on a bench for a good forty minutes, anxious, making anyone who passed him shiver from his intense aura alone; even birds walked around him. After almost an hour of waiting, he began to feel frustrated. Perhaps, the intel was false. Just as he went to stand, already conjuring up ways to have Sanzu execute the idiot who wasted his time, he heard it.
Your voice. Seizing him, like a sirenâs call.
His eyes were alert, darting around until they landed on your figure, spotlighted by the sun, like an angel descending from the heavens. You looked good, healthy. That was good. An array of emotions fought for their turn in Mikeyâs heartâRelief, distress, anger, nostalgia. He couldnât just pick one, especially when it came to you. As he watched from his spot, doing his best to not seem suspicious, he clocked the people you were approaching with excitement, your peppy stride as you waved at, what he presumed, to be mother and daughter.
However, his entire world turned upside down when the little girl extended out her arms towards you, and said âMama!â
âHello, my darling.~â You cooed, taking her into your awaiting arms from the woman, embracing the toddler tightly. âMama missed you so much.â
âMissed you, mama!â was the childâs reply, followed by her giggles.
A bucket of cold water wouldâve been better than this. Watching you converse with who he now assumes to be the babysitter, Mikey felt faint. Vision blurring, head pounding, heart clenching. YouâŚyouâŚno. Thereâs no way. You wouldnât have moved onâŚyou couldnât have, not like this, not from him. You loved him, didnât you? You still love him, didnât you?
How could youâŚhow could you?
Before he knew it, he started to follow you around. From the park, to the store, all the way back to your apartment. He already phoned some of the executives to start working in on the babysitter, and anyone else in your new found circle for information. He wanted answers. He needed them.
By the time you began fixing dinner, with your daughter laid down for a nap, you receive a knock at your door. Who could that be at this hour?
RAN was chilling outside the rendezvous spot for something the boss and a few other execs were participating in, having a smoke, minding his business, up until he sees a little girl with pigtails wearing a school uniform approaching, standing before him and justâŚstaring. She barely came up to his thighs, could've been no older than seven. She was practically staring into his soul with bright lavender eyes that scarily reminded him of Rinâs when he was that age.
He stared back, head tilted as he blew out the smoke from the corner of his mouth. The hell was a kid doing on this side of town?
Then, after an uncomfortable staring contest, the little girl points at his cigarette. âMy ma says those things are bad for you.â
Ran raised a brow, âDoes she now?â
âMmhm! She says it makes people unhappy.â
He offered a thoughtful nod, an amused grin spreading across his face. âMm. Do I look unhappy?â
The girl looked at Ran for a minute, eyes squinted. Eventually, she shook her head. âNo. But, ma also says people who are always unhappy get better at hiding it.â
Ranâs grin faltered. Her unwavering stare started to unnerve him, especially after hearing such a heavy statement come from such a small package.
After a brief moment of silence, he chuckled softly, taking one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it away. He exhaled. âSmart woman.â
The little girl beamed, âMmhm! My ma knows a lot of stuff.â
âTsk. But not âStranger Dangerâ, apparently.â
She tilted her head, curious. âHuh?â
âYou shouldnât be wandering around by yourself, let alone approaching someone you donât know. âs not safe. Especially for nosy little girls who stick their noses in other peopleâs business. Your ma never taught you that?â
The little girl rolled her eyes, hands on her hips. âDuh. Of course she did. Everyone knows that rule,â she exasperated. Ran snorted, but yielded when she squinted at him, pointing as she sassed. âAnd I do so know you, so youâre not a stranger.â
This time, Ran couldnât help the incredulous laugh. âOh, you know me, huh? Thatâs not good. âm supposed to keep a low profile. Say, you ainât a cop are you?â He teased, earning another eye roll.
âNo. Too small to be a cop, dummy.â
âOh, pardon me, I didnât notice. Where do you know me from, then?â
The little girl pointed over to the building..where the executives were having their meeting. She beamed, âMaâs works in there. On important people days she canât get me from school, so she tells me to come straight here, and to not talk to the purple man that stands near the building. She says youâre mean.â
Ran smirked, then gave a half-hearted shrug.
âShe also says youâre my pa. But, I never believed her. Youâre too old.â
Ranâs smirk dropped.
Whether more from the first comment or the last, you decide. But, one thing was for certain: he needed another cigarette.
SANZU cackled watching some guy struggle to round up a couple of rowdy twins at the convenience store. One was knocking shit off the shelves while the other ran circles around the guy. It was what he needed for his bitch of a hangover, a good laugh to distract from the ache in his skull.
However, he wasnât laughing for long when you came around the corner of the isle, holding a few items with a smile on your face that soon faded once you saw the scene unfolding before you; the pinkette thought he was still tripping balls. Blinking a few times to allow any after effects of the drugs to clear up, when you didnât disappear he used his long legs to swiftly yeet behind one of the shelves, peering around it like some paranoid stalker. The last time you had spoken, you had threatened to castrate him with your teeth if you ever saw him again.
And heâd be damned if he tried your bluff.
He watched in awe as you straightened those twins up quick. If he didnât know any better, he wouldâve thought they were trained to obey you, and only you. Any other authority be damned. While the guy was putting all the stuff back on the shelves, sweaty and out of breath, you gently reprimanded them for causing trouble. You still made that cute pouty face you always did whenever you were mad at himâŚ
âWhat did we talk about earlier? Hm? Mr. Satoru was very kind to help mama today, you know. You two promised me youâd be on your best behavior for him.â
Sanzu gagged. This was the rebound you let nut in you? This huffy moron who canât handle a couple of ankle biters, this was your king? He had half a mind to just gut the guy to put him out of his misery from that pathetic display from earlier, alone. He couldnât imagine how difficult it must be back home. He remembers when he was that ageâRowdy, reckless, the Antichrist. Adorable, but deadly. God bless that poor bastardâs soul.
WaitâŚMister? NotâŚdad?
The first twin whined, stomping their feet. âHeâs too boringggg!â
Come to think of itâŚif Sanzu squintedâŚthe longer he looked at the little familyâŚhe swore the more he saw the resemblance of himself in the tiny gremlins. From the hair, to the eyes, all the way down to the mannerismsâŚHang on. When had been the last time you two fucked? ThreeâŚno, was it four years ago?
The second twin huffed, pointing at the man. âYeah! And heâs jusâ being nice so that he can sleep in your bed, mama!â
You flushed, nervously chuckling as you looked around to make sure no one heard. Sanzu ducked behind a bag of chips, now nothing but eyes peeking through the gaps of food on the shelf.
SoâŚthat loserâs not the father? ThenâŚcould that mean..?
âHeâs mamaâs boyfriend, remember? Heâs allowed to do that. And heâll be around for a while, so I want you two to be nice, okay?â
ââŚokay, mama.â They grumbled.
Sanzu almost popped a blood vessel, fist clenched around a bag of Lays and nearly busting it. He chuckled darkly, âOh. Weâll see about that.â
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#đwasabi#happy mom day :] !!#tokyorev#tokyo revengers#tokyorev x reader#tokyo rev angst#tokyo rev fluff#tokyorev fluff#tokyo rev headcanons#tokyorev headcanons#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo rev#tokyo rev imagine#tokyo rev x reader#bonten x reader#bonten#mikey x reader#ran x reader#sanzu x reader
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