#and everyone else i also want to please but i'm also sick of it and even tho they all mean well and they all just want things to go well

[steinbit]

people don't know The Struggle of being a #TrueWinterhead and also living på sunnmøre ☝️😭

[slightlytoastedbagel]

I still don't fucking understand ruikasa

[iam-anordinary-human-orami]

I really want a scene like this in tsc2 where Neil seems to call Jean more often to check up on him and the floozies are perplexed "Why is Josten calling you?" "You guys close or sth?" "You still haven't told us what happened when he whisked you away" "we are worried sick Jean, how can you keep us in the dark?" And then Cat will say sth like "are you not sharing what you're talking to Josten about cause you're embarrassed?" Jeremy being a worried mother hen "is he bothering you?" And Jean keeps shutting everything down telling them not to worry, and then Laila as a joke says "is he flirting with you?"

And Jean responds with "I hope not. I don't think his boyfriend would take it well"

Everyone immediately stops what they are doing. "Im sorry, his WHAT?"

All hell breaks lose. Cat is shaking Laila "Josten is FRUITY?!", Jeremy is like "He has a boyfriend?" Laila being like "in the year that he joined the foxes and almost died in the hands of his serial killer dad, he got a boyfriend??? How???" And then Cat and Laila start asking questions, Jeremy trying to calm them down but also being curious, Jean is like "Well he's not told me explicitly, but it's obvious."

Jeremy having an epiphany "oh my god. Is it Kevin?" Cat in the background "oh please let it be Kevin" Jean says no, "Kevin is too much of a coward", the floozies are looking at each other like "oh we are definitely unpacking THAT at some point". And then they're like okay, well maybe the boyfriend is not on the team. But Jean confirms, it's a fox, i can tell u who it is-' "NO! We need to figure this one out!" "Let our gaydar do the work Jean we got things to prove!" Jean tiredly: "to who?"

So they start guessing, oh Hemmick is undeniably fruity, Jean is like "I don't even know who that is. Oh, backliner? No, not him". "Maybe it's Boyd?!" Cat being like "Escandalo! Cause he's with the captain right? Wilds?" Laila commenting "He'd be out of his mind to pass on that, and this is the educated opinion of a lesbian", Jean is like "how come u guys know all their names?" Jeremy says "they are a small team and it's hard not to keep tabs on them when they are in the news cycle every week or so"

"Guys we're losing track, keep your heads locked in! Who could be Josten's boyfriend, that tonight's pressing question!" "But there's no one else... wait, is he with the other backliner? Short blonde?" "I'm gonna be honest, I don't get queer vibes from him" "Lol can u imagine it's actually the goalkeeper twin" "what the one that went to juvie and looks like hes one step away from biting our heads off on the court? Nahh". Jean looks at an invisible camera like he's in the office.

And then something happens and they forget about it, until like the winter banquet or some shit and Cat is intently looking at Neil trying to decipher who his boyfriend could be, maybe he is in a throuple with Wilds and Boyd? Jean is like "Why are you looking at the foxes' table so intently?" "It's investigative work, don't worry about it" and then Neil comes over and takes Jean away at the open bar to talk about sth, the floozies are pretending to not be looking at them. Neil notices and he's like "I see they taken claim already." Jean responds with "It's not what u think" and they talk, Andrew probably gets bored at some point and goes to Neil, puts a single hand on his lower back and Jean being able to hear commotion in the Trojans table turns to see them acting like "normal", except their poses look rehearsed, there's drinks that have been spilled on the table and Cat is drinking from an empty glass looking at the sky.

[madesofgold]

Don't you wanna live far away from your family and their expectations sometimes and just start a new life?

[jaewritesfic]

Melon!AU Part 3

The creature's surprise surprises everyone else.

“It understands English?” Dick asks with a thoughtful tone lacing his voice.

“Or recognizes the motion of the wave as something benign,” Damian proposes, tense as a live wire as he keeps eagle eyes on Cass below.

Cass raises her hands, and though she does so slowly no amount of surprise keeps the creature from restarting that odd, piercing warning sound.

“Don't be afraid,” she says slowly and clearly, her hands moving to sign the words as she speaks. “I'm a friend.”

Despite there being no iris or pupil to be found in those glowing eyes, the way they dart back and forth between her hands and her mask is clear to see.

It doesn't stop growling, but it does shift uneasily. 

Cass's hands move to sign without speaking.

Do you understand me?

Nothing, save for the flicking of bottomless eyes.

“Do you understand me?”

The creature twitches, like being asked such a thing is a surprise. It takes a long moment - as if the question must be some kind of trap - before its head jerks in a jittery, hesitant nod.

More than one person's breath catches audibly over comms.

The set of Cass's shoulders softens in a way that telegraphs a smile, one that can't be seen past her mask.

“Nice to meet you,” she says with her voice.

Knows English but not sign, she says with her hands.

Smart girl. With that knowledge she can sign to the Bats without the creature realizing her hands are saying anything different than her mouth.

As soon as nice to meet you spills into the open air, the creature stops growling. For something with such an inhuman, blank face it telegraphs shock and confusion loudly.

Actually, it…it's almost like Bruce can feel those things himself, like something brushing against the base of his brain. It's disturbing and fascinating all at once.

Perhaps the feelings of dread and disturbance being near it causes is more than just fear of the unknown.

If it can project its own feelings, can it also sense theirs? Bruce isn't sure how he feels about that idea.

“Are you hurt?”

Definitely guarding chest. Bleeding.

“Bleeding?” Tim asks. 

“Chest hurts?”

Bleeding green.

“It's bleeding the Lazarus water?” Tim hisses. 

“I'm sorry,” Jason's voice cuts in on comms. “Your creature is bleeding what now?”

“Unconfirmed, but the color is similar,” Bruce says.

Jason is on standby, gracious enough to be patrolling a little further than his usual to cover the gaps while they deal with whatever this is.

Gracious is actually a stretch considering the choice words he'd had about the request when asked. Still, the protests had been more routine than truly venomous.

Bruce suspects he's mostly displeased with not being on site if his siblings need him in the face of a total unknown.

“Do you need help?” Cass's voice rings out softly again.

Doesn't want to admit injury.

“A doctor?”

There are flinches all around as that finally gathers a marked reaction, and a negative one. The sound is like nails on a chalkboard, like a million light bulb filaments breaking and fizzling out. The cadence is odd, almost like the creature is trying to speak.

“No doctor! Okay, no doctor. It's okay.”

Afraid. Terrified.

The sound stutters out again, that odd feeling against the base of Bruce's skull and the wide eyes of the creature projecting confusion and disbelief over the easy acquiescence. 

This is not an entity that expects to have its desires or fears cared about. Bruce has a bad feeling it's an expectation borne from experience.

Once again, he thinks with a sick feeling about the fact that he hadn't stopped to consider the creature might be reasoned with until Cass stepped in.

“Can I come closer?”

The creature whines as if it's a frightened stray, not a shadowy nightmare. Its claws click against the pavement in a manner that feels distinctly nervous. 

“Please? I won't hurt you.”

Tired. Can't go for much longer and knows it.

They all watch closely as the creature's eyes flicker up and towards the line of police cruisers and officers at the very end of the alley, then back to Cass.

Its claws keep clicking. 

The pool of green below it might be bigger, or it might just be the new knowledge that the substance is like blood messing with Bruce's nerves.

“I'm coming over. Slow. I won't hurt you.”

Weighing their options. Either me or cops. Knows that too.

True to her word, Cass moves slowly.

The creature's tail lashes and it grumbles its unrest, but it doesn't snarl like before and it doesn't lash out even when she's certainly close enough for those long spindly arms to reach.

Cass sinks to her knees just feet from it, posture intentionally open. Carefully, she offers another wave and a pleased, “Hello. See? All okay.”

Bruce's heart seizes. For just a moment, the wide glowing eyes angled to look up at Cass read as painfully young. Like a frightened child.

“You need help,” Cass almost whispers, hands laying on her thighs in plain sight. “No doctors, I know. But maybe a safe place? Come with me?”

Surely the comms have never been so silent as they are while Cass turns her hands over and extends them, like she's inviting the creature to place its own in her palms.

“Keep you safe. I promise.”

For a long few moments, the creature is so silent and still it may well have frozen in time.

Then there's a mourning keen that nearly buckles Bruce at the knees and the creature is moving. 

Instead of taking her hands, it drags itself forward and grabs at her to a chorus of panicked shouts on the comms. So quickly nobody has time to react, it's dragged itself up to cling to her shoulders and bury its face in her neck.

The shadowy frame trembles when she holds it in return.

Masterpost

[mrs-weasley-reid]

JULY REC FICS

Hello, my sweets!! I wanted to try something out to provide my full and utter support to all the amazing writers I've come across in the form of monthly rec fics (starting this month). Join me in giving them love through comments and reblogs. It really is a joy to hear how you're doing as a writer. It makes up for all the angst we write lol

I will be going based on what I've read recently and not by the date the fic was posted. And the number of fics will depend on how much I've read the entire month. Also, please respect these writers. Some contents are 18+, so MINORS should not be interacting in any way, especially when the authors themselves specify it.

— ✿ — ✿ ✿ — ✿ ✿ ✿

Spencer Reid

✿ a question unasked by @easy-there-leftovers ↳ SOOOO ADORABLE. I'm a workaholic craze gal, so it speaks to me on a silly level.

✿ missing the happy hormone by @lavenderspence ↳ I'm a sucker for Spencer fluff this month, what can I say? This fic Tina made had my waterworks going on for about a minute because it's so sweet

✿ desk duty by @reiderwriter ↳ All you have to know is the amount of evil laugh I made while reading this

✿ the theory of love by @ophelia-is-complex ↳ Genuine intimacy is quite a challenge to write, but THIS ONE, this one had me in a sappy mood

✿ like nothing matters by @cerisereids ↳ gagged and had to pause the reading so many times because HELLO— had me spiraling at work

✿ the devils disguise by @qlossytbh ↳ I said I sobbed a little bit, but I actually cried so much I ended up taking a nap and felt better afterward. It's all fluff, though, don't get me wrong. I'm just very dramatic when the red devil's on the clock

✿ not so funny by @reidmania ↳ Angsty, that made me wanna start a fight with some random twiggy tall guy. Sooooo good!

✿ cloaked in passions touch by @raekensluver ↳ If you don't like Spencer's hands, you're fucking lying to yourself!!!!!

✿ language of devotion by @gghostwriter ↳ I'm in love with reid, and this fic just had me stumbling back onto his lap like a good gal

✿ this req response by @mandarinmoons ↳ Sorry, I'm not sure what the title is, but it's so adorable and got me to go to work, so kind of a lifesaver tbh

✿ hallucinate by @gghostwriter ↳ Oooo, this one was so cute, hehe. Honestly, I lean towards Spencer fluff lately just because I've been too overstimulated with work this past month, so READ THIS ONE ITS CUTE

✿ it's golden, like daylight by @dudeitiskarev ↳ I actually felt like I was reader the entire time I read this. It's well-written and so adorable and something that should be framed in a museum

✿ much ado about nothing series by @incognit0slut ↳ binged it all morning, and I was whipped !!! It's ongoing, so if I have to wait, so does everybody else

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

Aaron Hotchner

✦ choiceless hope series by @hotchfiles ↳ This series had me rolling over my bed on a Saturday. A lot of feelings getting played (mostly mine)

✦ beanstalk by @solardrop ↳ I kid you not; I was giggling like a weirdo when I read it. And that itself deserves the recommendation.

✦ too busy being yours by @hotchfiles ↳ Lari knows how to get a sick gal to giggle. I love bau!rossi!reader. I love Rossi as reader's dad, so I enjoyed it more than I thought I would

✦ ignorance by infatuation by @boneblushed ↳ Oh, this one was a nice snack while on my break at work. LOVED IT SO MUCH

✦ hungover by @basketonthedoorstepofthefbi ↳ Mmmm, such a good read! Plus Jemily is there sooooo

✦ from across the bar by @hotchscoffeecup ↳ Evil laugh ensues. A nice cuppa of some good ole kinky stuff

✦ doomed by @hotchfiles ↳ guys, I stopped my car in the middle of driving home just to read it, so it's THAT good. Honestly, I strongly encourage everyone to read all of Lari's works! She's my writer crush, if none of you realized it by now

✦ a bunch of cuties in love by @lavenderspence ↳ hehehehehehe this definitely did not remind me of that one older guy I used to flirt with who had an adorable younger brother that I babysat🤭

✦ schrodinger's cat by @none-of-your-bullshit ↳ angst on a Saturday morning is like taking a shot of soju before 11 am, and this one felt like it <3

how about you also comment your top 3 fave fics for this month to spread more love to our great writers?

[chaoticwriting]

Fenton Crime Family

-Wayne Manor, Gotham-

Stephanie: So no one is gonna ask why Cass has been out so much lately? Alone too.

Duke: Didn't she say she is going out to meet a friend?

Stephanie: Yeah, but no one knows where she goes. We don't know who she goes out with nor do we know where she goes.

Tim: Just say that you are jealous that Cass is going out without you. No will make fun of you.

Jason & Duke: That's a lie.

Tim: Yeah, that's a lie. I would totally make fun of you.

Stephanie: Shut up nerd. Don't pretend you are not jealous when Bernard or Conner says that they are hanging out with someone else.

Tim: Woah there. Jason is the nerd one. If you want to insult me, at least use the correct one.

Jason: I want to be mad but you're not wrong.

Damian: Tt, why should we bother who Cain goes out with? It is her choice who she wishes to be her companion.

Stephanie: But aren't you curious even a little bit? Who is the person? Where do they go? Are they friends or something more? There are so many questions and yet so little answer.

Bruce: We should give Cass some room for herself. Letting her form a relationship outside of this household is also good.

Everyone: *Stares at Bruce*

Jason: I think the old man is being mind controlled. Let me punch him to wake him up.

Dick: Are you sick, B? Do you want to go to Dr. Leslie? I can take over your patrol tonight if you are not feeling well.

Damian: I also agree with Todd. Father might be compromised right now. Let's take him down.

Tim: Wait wait. Do you have anything to say before we jump you Bruce?

Bruce: *Grunts* I went to meet the therapist that Jason recommended to me. Dr. Fenton says that I should give my children room to grow independently so that I can take the first step in treating my paranoia.

Jason: *Gasp* You actually went to meet the therapist. Fuck.

Stephanie: He he he, where is my 50 bucks? I told you he would go if you recommend it.

Jason: *Grumble while handing out 50 bucks*

Duke: So that's where you are going. I thought you were going on a date.

Bruce: I am too old for dating anymore.

Dick: Yeah, right. Tell that to me when you go meet Selina later tonight.

Bruce: *Grunts*

Alfred: *Walks in* I am here to inform that Miss Cassandra has returned.

Dick: She's not gonna eat lunch?

Alfred: Miss Cassandra has informed me that she has eaten outside with her friend.

Jason: Did you see who her friend is? Is it a boy or a girl? Please tell me it's a boy.

Alfred: I'm afraid I cannot tell you anything as per my agreement with Miss Cassandra. What I can tell you though is that she is very happy to meet her friend. I suggest all of you don't disturb her happiness.

Stephanie: What? Boooo. I want answers. Timothy I choose you. Go find the answer using your stalker skills.

Tim: I would rather not anger her after what she did last time. All of my coffee mugs are still stuck on the table.

Duke: *Scoffs* You would probably go behind her back to find this friend anyway. You're just saying it in case Cass heard us.

Tim: I shall not confirm nor deny the accusation.

-Upstairs-

Cass lays on her bed after changing her clothes. It's been so long since she saw Danny. If not for the coincidental encounter at the stores, she wouldn't have known that Danny is in Gotham. After the first encounter, they exchanged phone numbers and talks and even met up often. Today is their first official date as a girlfriend/boyfriend.

Cass takes her phone to text Danny that she has reached home safely when she suddenly remembers something. She opens her gallery and puts the photos of her and Danny in a secure secret folder so that no one can find it.

While doing that, a text comes through.

Danny 💕💓💕

Danny: Hey Cass, are you home yet?

Cass: Yes. I just got home.

Danny: Thanks for the date today

Cass: 💖💖

Cass: Are you home yet?

Danny: Almost

Danny: Sorry gotta go. My sister is calling.

Cass: Get home fast. Love you 😘

Danny: I love you too 💖

Cass puts the phone on the bed and closes her eyes. Soon, she falls asleep and dreams of living in a large house with a lot of children running around.

-The Bowery, Gotham-

A young skinny man with black hair and blue eyes is walking down the quite alley slowly. He looks around him as the people of the Bowery look almost respectful but certainly fearful to him.

He sighs and leaves the sprawled bodies on the ground. They wouldn't die. He makes sure of that. A huge man comes within his proximity when suddenly the man bows down to him.

????: We are sorry, sir. These people are a new gang in the rise from the east. We get the news too late to send people to dispose of them.

Danny: Chill out, Jeff. Just take them to Dani and let her handle it. Also, tell her to return before dinner or else Jazz will come for her.

Jeff: Yes, sir.

The man along with a few of his henchmen pick the bodies and move them to somewhere else. To be honest, Jazz and Danny still don't know how to feel that their little sister is officially a crime lord.

All of them moved last month since Jazz gets her job at Arkham Asylum and Danny gets his internship at Wayne Enterprise. Dani tags along since she has explored all the places she wants to visit and she doesn't know what else to do.

Well that also didn't last long, as the first day they arrived at Gotham, Dani goes to beat up all the gang and goons in The Bowery and round them up into one single group. It's certainly easier that all the rouges are in Arkham right now.

One time the Falcon crime family tried to threaten Dani by taking Danny and Jazz hostage. In the end, Falcon and other crime families agree to stay out of The Bowery after Danny freezes all of their building and Dani strikes them with lightning multiple times.

Danny arrives home and sits on the couch. He scrolls Twitter while waiting for his sisters to return when the news catches his eyes.

Breakout at Arkham Asylum

All the people of Gotham are suggested to stay inside tonight.

Danny looks at the news with concern. Usually a breakout at Arkham happens a lot later in the day. He stands up, picks a leather jacket and a mask and then transforms into Phantom. He wears the mask and the jacket and flies towards Arkham Asylum to check out what happened. Today is Saturday so Jazz isn't working so he doesn't worry that much about Jazz.

On his way to Arkham, he encounters some rouge like The Riddler and Scarecrow. He knocks them out and hangs them on a poll and continues flying towards it. He's not a hero anymore but if the rogues are to enter and cause havoc in The Bowery, neither him, Jazz nor Ellie will be happy.

Suddenly, he sees a clown car speeding through the road at a very fast speed. Danny looks at it and sees the Joker along with his few goons are making a getaway while being chased down by a few cop cars. Danny flies down towards the clown car, and slowly unscrews the tyres of the car.

Danny flies back a little bit to the back and the clown car starts to wiggle and waggle and suddenly all of the tyres come off the car. Danny can hear the clown cursing heavily until finally they crash into a poll.He flies back down and just to make sure he is permanently down or at least down for some time, snap his back bone to incapacitate him.

Danny, still invisible, flies back up and continues on his way to Arkham. He meets a few more escapees like Mr. Freeze, Firefly and Killer Croc. Except for Killer Croc, all the other rouges are beaten up and sent back to Arkham. Killer Croc or Waylon is not thinking of causing trouble. He just wants to return to the sewer cause it is his home. Danny plans to maybe offer Waylon employment in their gang if he feels like Waylon is stable enough to work. Meanwhile, he will go around the city and beat up rogues that he is pretty sure is not going out to have a tea party.

When Danny lands on the roof, he opens his phone to see Cass is warning him to stay at home and not go outside. He smiles wryly since he is already outside and is beating up the rouges. Danny replies with a thumbs up and is about to continue flying when a shadow jumps out from behind him.

Danny: Uh, hello? How are you?

???: *Stares*

Danny: I'm no trouble. Just on the lookout just in case there is a rouge nearby. I see some guy beat up Scarecrow and The Riddler on my way here. They are not so scary when they don't have anything to use you know.

???: Where?

Danny: Errr, I think it is right over there. I was coming from that direction so you would probably see them if you go this way.

???: Thank you.

The shadow then vanishes and Danny is left standing there. The shadow really reminded him of Cass for some reason. Looking up online, apparently that one is called Black Bat.

Danny: Huh, they are out early today then. I guess they can work during the day.

Danny then turns invisible and returns back to the Bowery because most of the notorious rogues have been captured and Danny isn't worried about the rest.

Part 2

[traegorn]

Girl you can rant and rave all day but we all know for a fact you can't vote your way out of this mess so your "genuinely, what else can we do?" sounds like pure cucked defeatism. This downward spiral of American fascism has proven stable, so no, voting isn't going to stop it. The democrats will never be pushed left - as proven by blatant history. I know this is your cue to list a bunch of social services or civil rights concessions a la #bidenwins but the drip violence of homophobia and abortion restrictions under republicans does not come close to the bipartisan armed tyranny that murders people in broad daylight.

Voting isn't going to solve any of this, and no voting isn't going to "clear the way" or make it easier to resist. Democrats have proven over and over and over again they will use the full force of violence to stop anything that truly threatens them and the ONLY WAY to stop American fascism is to threaten them, to threaten the very foundations of the system itself.

You exert all this effort, have all this pained frustration, over the weakest political action you can take. You are not challenging fascism or tyranny or helping any of the people harmed under bipartisan violence. You ignore these people and focus on "harm reduction" for the few who do benefit from the pitiful social safety nets democrats eke out only to be undermined in the next four or eight years as republicans INEVITABLY take back power. Such is the case of a two party system, as history proves. You're staving off the inevitable by exerting all this energy into electoralism, and the people you "save" by electing democrats are inevitably hurt anyways when republicans INEVITABLY take back power - because that's what the system guarantees.

You exist in a cycle of abuse with the American government, a punishment-reward system under the 2 parties that keeps you afraid of punishment and too desperate for reward that you ignore how the hand that feeds you is also putting kids in cages and blowing up babies overseas. You, and everyone who thinks like you, will never be the ones to save anybody.

Idk I was pissed and now got all sad again after writing this. Just so you know my being sad at the state of your ideology isn't a representation of my passivity that people like you like to construe - I am painfully politically active. But it's just...sick. You're stuck in an abusive cult and now I just feel bad for you

I'm usually a lot nicer when I reply to folks, but you brought a certain energy that deserves a different response. I want to be clear to any passersby who I'd normally be polite to in this kind of conversation: This energy is reserved only for chucklefucks who bring this kind of shit to me. Please do not take this as a reflection as to how I'd treat people willing to engage honestly and civilly with me. This anon came to me unprovoked, so they're getting a rather unique response.

So here we go.

Oi, shit head. This was the stupidest thing I've read all day.

Democrats 100% have moved left in the last 40 years. Are we still recovering from when they got dragged right by Reagan in the 80s? Yes. But we've made headway getting things back on track. You claim a lot of stuff here, but don't cite a single example. Likely because you just repeat what someone else told you on TikTok that one time. You couldn't find your way through actual theory if it smacked you in the face with its dick. But you don't want me to actually justify it.

Because your own words told me you'd dismiss any evidence I provided:

I know this is your cue to list a bunch of social services or civil rights concessions a la #bidenwins but the drip violence of homophobia and abortion restrictions under republicans does not come close to the bipartisan armed tyranny that murders people in broad daylight.

Bitch, this shit is a sliding scale. Trump authorized more drone strikes than Obama did in eight years. Are they bad? Yes. But if you're telling me you want more murders, Trump's your guy. Guess what, living in America means dealing with the fact that you've been complicit in genocide this whole time. Look at the land you stand on -- it is soaked in blood. Look at the smart phone you're reading this on, it literally came out of a genocide.

You bathe in blood every day, fucking figure it out.

We do our best to minimize harm. And if you'd ACTUALLY read or watched anything I've said, your two half dead braincells would have noticed the part where I constantly say "voting is not the end of your activism." It's the fucking start.

Either Harris or Trump will be the next President. Trump will be worse. If you aren't doing everything you can to stop him, you're not a leftist, you're a grandstanding piece of shit who doesn't care about anything other than the smell of your own farts.

You want to fuck up the two parties? Great. Put in the fucking work -- because the Presidential election ain't it, shithead. Build a real movement from the ground up. Build community, build a party system, run local candidates. When's the last time your ass went to a city council meeting or a school board meeting? Do you even know when they're held where you live?

But let's face it, you couldn't coalition build if you tried because you're so far up your own ass you kiss your small intestine goodnight.

Daddy Revolution ain't coming, shithead. There's work to do, so get your head out of your ass and do it.

You want Trump to win? Netanyahu would kiss you on the lips for it. Fuck off.

[messenger-of-babel]

Always Late

Summary: Batman was late when you needed him the most, but he refused to let it happen again. (Batfamily x sibling!reader)

Word Count: 4.5K (This was supposed to be a quick fic 💀)

Notes: BIG AUTHOR NOTE INCOMING Before anyone comes for me- I know this was supposed to be a day for Chris. I'm just feeling a touch sick but still want to get a fic out, and I'm currently not able to churn out and go through his, so I'll write some Chris later! Instead I wanted something else, consider it a change up to shake some life back into the theme. I also rambled hella long on this one, so strap in, it's long and the plot got lost in the maze of my mind. I had to shuffle things around and it just kept growing and growing, oh my god so I hope it makes sense to everyone still. Clark caemo, some (very??) OOC villain work cause I forgot some of my original plot and villains so begging on my knees for forgiveness fr. GRAPHIC VIOLENCE/ TORTURE DESCRPTION FOR SOME AREAS. I should have made this two parts but I messed up and made just one massive fic. Was supposed to be batfam x reader but it started feeling more like bruce x reader hahaha. RIP my sleep schedule please reap the benefits of my labour. 😭

Again I was originally here to be a resi blog but I can't help writing for DC after a day of reading comics. On that topic I actually finished collecting Tom Taylor's run at #118, my store held #119 for me so I get to read that as a reward after the hell that will be my Monday.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When you were taken, it caused a widespread panic among Gotham.

Tabloids across the city wrote about the latest missing person, this time none other than the latest member of billionaire Bruce Wayne's family. The Gotham Gazette had been running articles about you for months already, including the scandal that had come with it. Your dirty laundry and past had been aired for the entire city to read and speculate upon. Whether Bruce had just adopted you out of pity, sympathising with the way that you had lost your parents the same way he had. Gossip about it could all be a ploy for him to expand his influence in Gotham, after the riches and estate that your family had left you behind in their untimely death. The city was thrown into chaos from the death of your parents, both of them from founding Gotham families and well-established lawyers. It was shaken more once the Wayne had taken you into his household, and now it was all but alight as you vanished.

Fingers pointed in every which way, your disappearance marking the fourth among affluent families in Gotham. Accusations had even been hurled at Bruce, claiming that he had killed you in order to gain your assets and the other missing people were to establish an alibi. After all, Bruce Wayne had no alibi for the night that you went missing.

But he had an alibi.

Bruce reflected upon that fact for three days already, while he tore his hair out trying to find you. He had been out in the city, patrolling as usual. The disappearances were the latest case, and he was determined to stop them before they continued. He had been so involved in the case, standing so close to the evidence that he didn't even consider the option that he himself would be affected, or consider the perpetrator might targe the Waynes. he hadn't expected to get a call from Alfred a little past midnight, the butler wheezing painfully into the receiver.

Blood freezing in his veins he had come home to an empty house, windows on the third story smashed in. Alfred was slumped by the phone, its sleek body hanging off the hook. Bruce had pulled the cowl off without a second thought, cradling the older man's head in his lap with shaky hands. He had relaxed slightly when there was a steady pulse under his fingers, and the tension eased further when the older man had opened his eyes.

"Alfred," Bruce had sighed out, moving the old man from his lap to against the wall, hand keeping him upright. "Are you okay-"

"They took them." came the old man's mumbled reply, and for a second Bruce's jaw just hung there.

"What do you mean?" he asked, heart thudding painfully against his ribs, panic rising once more.

"They came through the window, cut the lights. I pretended to be unconscious to use the phone line, but they came back. Cut it shortly after I rang you." the older man said, looking up with remorseful eyes. "I'm so, so sorry, Mr. Wayne." he said forlornly. "I couldn't stop them."

Bruce looked down; jaw tensed. "It wasn't your fault." he said firmly, trying to quell the despair radiating off the old man.

"They took them kicking and screaming. I could hear them the entire time, but I couldn't do anything I-"

"Alfred." Bruce said sternly. "Alfred it's okay. Let me handle it, you go make some tea." he said, helping the old man stand up.

"Tea, yes, yes that's right..." the butler murmured to himself, hand to his head. "It's been a while since you asked me for tea, sir."

"It's not for me." Bruce said, pulling the cowl back on. "It's for you. make yourself some tea and we'll patch you up. Take it easy tonight, wait for the shock to wear off."

Alfred looks at him, hesitating, but eventually nods. "We, sir?"

Bruce hums, fists at his side. "Yes. This case has escalated. It's time to request help."

He keeps his voice level as he walks away, but Alfred notes the way that he turns the corner, and the anger put into his stride.

When he gets to the cave he wastes no time, calling in everyone he can think of. His chest feels tight, breath short as his vision swims. Every signal he can send he does, the blurring in his eyes seeping into his mind too. He cradles his head in his hands, trying to calm it but to no avail. It's only when the ringing of the Batcomputer cuts through the fog that he is able to look up, shaking fingers hitting the accept call button.

"Batman?" comes the crackly voice of Nightwing, and the fog begins to clear slightly.

"Nightwing." he says back gruffly, voice hoarse.

"About time, you were making people pretty worried, you know." Dick chides, and there's the sound of yapping in the background. "What's the brief? What's happened?"

"Kidnapping." he says, voice thick. "Broke into the manor. Alfred is likely to be concussed, but it shouldn't be too serious. He's making tea, Robin is out on the other side of the city tonight. Red Robin is with you, isn't he?"

There's more shuffling on the other end before Dick responds. "Yeah, he's been helping in Bludhaven, he came last night."

"Bring him. Bring Oracle too. Everyone...come home." he murmurs, hands shaking as he tries to think clearly.

"Bruce, is everything okay with you?" Dick comes in, concern evident.

"Fine. I need people back immediately. Why?" he huffs back, rubbing the spots from his eyes with his fingers.

"Because we've all been trying to call you for the last few minutes. This is the first time you've picked up."

Bruce takes a deep breath, exhaling softly. He hadn’t realised how badly he had spaced out. "It's an emergency. They...they’re gone. They need to come home."

"The new kid?" Dick breathes. "Wait, you mean-"

Bruce nods even though he knows his eldest cannot see him. "Gone. Now come back and come back tonight." he ends the call before Dick can say anything else, and his tired eyes scan the monitor filled with a string of outgoing distress calls and an equally large number of missed ones. In his haze he had pressed every com line he had. He had pinged Jason, he had pinged Dick. Hell, he had even pinged the League and Clark, who hadn't even bothered to call for clarity, his response status just reading, 'On my way'.

He held his head in his hands, breaths laboured.

Bruce had held his own reservations when adopting you. He knew about the media uprising that it would cause, the rumours that were sure to fly. He had known what kind of mental state that would put you in, how it would angle you in a whole new world of cameras, but he couldn't help himself. He had seen you while in the suit, and maybe he had taken you in to make himself feel better. For not catching the person who had killed your parents, arriving too late. He had been training for this his entire life, it was his entire mission in Gotham, yet he couldn't stop the very crimes that had put him on this path.

If he had been faster maybe he could have saved your parents, disarming the man with the knife before it plunged into the chest of your father. Maybe he could have arrived faster so that he could have caught the offender that robbed your mother before giving her the same treatment and fleeing into the night. Instead, he was only there fast enough for him to hear you scream as your parents collapsed to the floor. He was there as you cried and shook them and tried to stop the blood spilling through your fingers, but you were unsure where to start. After all, how can someone make a decision between stopping the flow seeping from their father’s chest and the one from their mother’s throat?

He had been there to pull you away, was there to catch the last dying light of your father as he stroked your cheek before making eye contact with Bruce. "Look after my kid." he had whispered, something Bruce had nearly missed under all your screaming. Bruce pulled you away while he called for the GCPD, and from one father to another, he made sure to keep that promise.

Your relationship had been rough, clearly distraught at the way you lost your parents. You were older than he was when the same had happened, but you were still young. You had clung to Bruce the day he said he was going to take you in, and he had managed to soothe you with a soft hand up and down your back. Yet as the tabloids got worse and the gossip began to grow, you began pulling away from him and seeking the comfort of your room instead. He had done his best to protect you from the media, paying money to have articles removed and when that didn't work, he threatened to sue. It made the Gazette pull their head in a bit, but it still failed to be enough. Evidently, as there was now an empty bedroom on the third floor of the east wing.

All he could do was sigh and blink away the images of the children he had hurt, in the name of Robin or otherwise. He had to rub away the death of Jason that he reflected on in sombre moments when he thought no one was looking. He had gotten you into this mess, attached you with his name and all of its subsequent burdens. So, it was his duty to get you back and get you back safe.

Yet three days later, he had nothing.

The cave had been a buzz of activity for all three days, and Bruce, no, Batman, was acting close to a slave driver. Tim and Barbara hadn't left the caves computers in days, Damian and Steph constantly scouring the rooftops. Dick was concerned, hell, everyone was. Even the gruff Jason had been called in, and reluctantly he had answered.

"You find anything?" Dick asked, leaning against the wall with his younger brother. Jason was still suited up, coming back from the patrol around Bristol area. He removes the mask and shakes his hair free, sighing.

"Nothing. Areas come up empty. No sign of 'em."

Dick sighs, running a hand through his hair. "God, there's nothing on my end either. The Docks and all Southside of Gotham are clean, no traces. Any signs pointing to who it could be?"

Jason shrugs, helmet tucked under his arm. "No idea, as it stands, the kid's just gone missing. If Bruce isn't able to scrounge up a lead, I doubt I will. Not my forte. He should give Tim a break and send him out."

"Yeah, like he'll do that. He's got him tied to cave duty." Dick scoffs back. He feels bad, talking like your kidnapping was a causal affair. He didn't treat it like one, his heart stuttering when Bruce had called him in a haze and all shaken. It didn't a genius to see how attached Bruce had gotten to you in such a short amount of time, but sometimes Dick worried that Bruce was projecting his own trauma onto you. But still you were his younger sibling, a part of the family now. He had met you with a warm smile and a gentle hand the day that you moved in, coming in from Bludhaven to make the house a bit more lively while you got settled in. God, he knew what it was like moving in alone into that empty house, with only Bruce and Alfred to warm the halls. He had eaten dinner with you, took you out for walks in the garden when your grief allowed you move more than a few paces. He did his absolute best, and he knew that with time he could be a big brother to you.

Yet you hadn't been given the time, snatched away before Christmas even hit. He doubted you knew that Bruce was the Batman, or that the rest of the family had an interesting array of night lives.

Jason was the same in the way that he hadn't interacted with you much.

Honestly, he was awkward with kids, since the last kid of Bruce's he had met was the devil spawn who spat at him like an angry cat every chance he got. You were thankfully much older and easier to understand, but that still didn’t mean smooth sailing. Jason hated even coming back to the manor, and he and Bruce had been having one of their ongoing fights during the time he took you in, meaning he missed seeing you often. Yet he still talked to Dick (more so that Dick called him to make sure that he was okay) and the older man had seen you plenty. He felt like he knew you from Dick alone, but he wasn't oblivious to your story printed in the newspapers shoved under his apartment door. He pitied you, understood the grief that you must have been going through at the sudden violence that tossed your little world upside down. Sure, you had gone from luxury to luxury, but Gotham was unkind to everyone. it was the same violence that Jason strode to clean off the street, and his heart ached deep down that someone like you had managed to get caught in its claws.

"Do you think it could be the clown?" Dick asks quietly. "He'd do something as ballsy as this."

Jason tenses, thinking for a moment before shaking his head. "Not likely. That bastard likes to make a spectacle of things. No doubt he would have contacted the Bat the second he took the first victim or aired it like some twisted game show. It's not like him to lay quiet."

"So, it's someone else. It's unnatural for Gotham's villains to do something in the dark like this. I mean, it's been three days since they were abducted, and they're the fourth kidnap victim. There hasn't been a ransom note, a demand, a body. Not a peep for any of the captives. It's unnatural."

Jason hums in agreement, but they both jump as Bruce storms through grandfather clock entrance.

Everyone present turns, watching how Clark trails after him. Five sets of eyes watch the livid way the Bat cuts a path through the cave and gets into the batmobile, breaths too anxious to be released. Without a word the car screams out of the cave, and they all turn to Clark. Barbara casts a glance to Tim and then to Dick, who just shrugs, worry deepening on his face.

"What the hell's going on?" Jason growls, pushing off from the wall. Clark turns to face him, dressed in his Superman suit.

"We’ve found them." Clark says, face grim, and Dick shares a look with Jason. However, when Dick meets the eyes of Superman, he can see the flicker of worry in the Kryptonian. "Well let's get going then. Why did he leave alone?" Dick asked, slipping the domino mask back onto his face. Clark opens his mouth to speak but is cut off as Damian steps out behind his broad figure.

"Because it's the League." the younger boy says, green eyes boring in Dick's. "It's grandfather."

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Bruce drove like his life depended on it, which wasn't fair when it was yours on the line instead. He could see the dots on his monitor indicating that the others were following him, and he had assumed that Clark had proceeded to fill them in. He had asked his old friend to look after the city while he sped towards the outskirts, just in case the League decided to do something while he had his guard on the city lowered. His com crackled to life, radio filling the otherwise silent car.

"Oi." snapped the voice of Red Hood, modulated and grainy. "Don't leave without telling us what's going on. Aren't you the one always spewing that 'feel-no-emotion' bullshit? To not let it cloud your judgement? Cause from the way I see it, you're acting kinda hazy."

"I trusted Clark would fill you in." he says back, voice tense. Red Hood scoffs.

"Yeah, and he did. You called us. You tell us what the hell you want us to help with, otherwise don't bother calling at all. Don't drag us out, get us invested then not let us help when it comes to it. What was your plan, beat the shit out of Ras and taken them back by yourself?"

Bruce falls silent, and there's a slight huff from Jason on the other end.

"Honestly? not the worst plan you've had, and I respect the enthusiasm, but you still should have looped us in. I want to get a hit in too."

Bruce turns his head to the direction of the radio, snapped from his concentration on the road momentarily and it's like Jason can feel his confusion through the commlink.

"Don't give me that silence." he groans. "They're family, aren't they? I'm not opposed to a younger sibling, you know." he huffs irritably. "But do me a favour and control Nightwing, hey? He's looking as coiled as you. You might have to fight him for the first hit."

Bruce doesn’t say anything before the comm cuts off, leaving him in the silence once more and eyes going straight back onto the red dot mapped onto his GPS. You.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

When you awoke the first time, you couldn’t feel anything. Your hands were tied to your ankles behind you, black cloth wrapped around your eyes. what you did know was that you were lying somewhere concrete, face pressed into the dusty cement. You knew that on the day that you woke and they had brough you were, that there were other people thrown in the same cell as you. You also knew that those other people were dead.

You had heard them scream, heard the way that they begged for their lives when they were dragged from the pen you were in. One a day, until you were left alone with no one to talk to. They had all been kidnapped like you, affluent people that you recognised the names and voices of. You had heard some of them at events you parents had hosted and attended, and when you traded names, they had remembered you immediately. You weren't dumb, you knew that you had all been taken here because you were rich. That was the only thing that you had in common with the heiresses and finance brokers that had shared the cells with you, huddled up against the cool metal.

Now the only thing left was you and the stickiness that crept under the bars of your cage, grateful that the blindfold was on so you didn't have to see what it was. At first you thought that you were alone, that your captors had left, but you knew better. You could sense them all around you, quiet and watching. They were like an uncomfortable prickling on your neck, the ghost of fingertips across your skin. Yet the hours and minutes had bled into days, and now you didn’t care if they were there or not.

You knew that they wanted to kill you. They had killed the rest. You had been given small amounts of food and water the first day or two, but today there had been none. Your mouth was dry as you lay on your side, lips cracking with the desire to drink. Your throat felt like sandpaper when you swallowed, and the silence that you were met with when you called out only made your panic and helplessness rise. You had lost the ability to cry, body sluggish. It felt like everything was shutting down, the pain in your stomach unbearable and tongue heavy in your mouth. As the heat crept in and pulled sweat from your unwilling skin, you began wishing that they would kill you.

You supposed that your wish was answered when the creak of your cell signalled one of your silent observers had come for you, and the tug on the ropes binding your limbs together made you lurch forward. You kept your face pressed down, too weak to struggle against them as they dragged you out and gripped your hair, making you shift onto your knees at an awkward angle. For the first time in days, you heard someone speak.

" So, this is Bruce's new...child." Your captor hummed. You could hear the way that their boots scuffed as they walked, coming to stand in front of you. You could faintly feel the swish of fabric, long and tickling the floor. "I wonder if he was planning to hand the title of Robin over so soon.”

Your eyebrows furrow, but your barely functioning brain fails to process what he's saying.

"Are you aware of your family's lineage?" comes the voice from above you, commanding and deep with a hint of something malicious in the undertone, like a coiled snake waiting to strike. “Your real family, the ones who claimed to practice a just and fair law. Not Wayne.”

 You manage to shake your head weakly, grimacing as the image of your parents covered in blood flickered into your mind.

The voice above you tuts. "The sins of the father shall be bestowed upon the son," he recites softly. "And you are to pay the penance. Gotham will be purged, and the bloodlines of the corrupt shall be the first to burn, aware of their sins or not."

You don't even get a chance to ask what he's saying, the words sounding like biblical rambling. A scream is ripped through your throat instead as a sharp hot pain erupts through your shoulder, the sound of your own skin bubbling making you sick. You wail, body aching to thrash but the fatigue and weakness preventing you from doing such. The hands on your shoulders hold you still as the sensation is repeated across your body, stray tears leaking from your eyes despite your dehydrated state. It's only when you feel like you’re about to cross over, embrace the light spilling behind your eyes that you realise that the hands have left your body and that you're lying face down, discarded on the concrete floor.

You can feel the ache all over your body, a stinging and writhing pain that makes your whimper involuntarily. You can now make out that there is sound around you, echoing off the empty walls and causing your head to throb after days of silence.

For Bruce however, the world was silent despite being in the thick of the fight. They had pulled up the abandoned building on the edge of Gotham and Bludhaven, thankfully located by Clark and his x-ray vision after days of searching. He had stormed into the building with Dick, Jason, and Tim on his heels, his hands filled with a shake only the trained eye could determine as rage. The world had dripped into the pulsing cadence of his heartbeat as soon as he saw you, kneeling at Ra’s feet and being held by league assassins. He had hardly any time to process the way that you curled up and into yourself when you were dropped so carelessly, head thudding lifelessly against the floor. Forlorn, he eyed the way your body was covered with cuts and stabs, burns from the red-hot sword still held in the hands of a soldier. He hadn't known when the league had decided to dabble in torture, but Bruce felt like joining that night.

Jason and Tim were dealing with the assassins, the younger male finally freed from desk duty. He didn't know you as well as he would have liked considering that you lived under the same roof as him, but you had been warming up. He had really hoped that you could get along, but now he feared that this was going to push your back into the shell you had just started to crack, and that frustration was evident in the whistling of his bow staff as it cut through the air.

Dick had gone after Ra’s immediately while Batman raced for you, Dicks escrima sticks going for the head. Dick was fast and agile, muscles more tensed than usual as he sent well placed blow after blow. Yet Bruce wasn’t an idiot, he knew the limits of him and his team, and he knew the limits of Ra’s. That's why in what limited time that Dick bought for him he dropped to your side, slicing through your bonds with a batarang and letting your arms and legs fall free from their cramped position behind you. You groan lightly as he cradles you to his chest, weakly crying out as he justles the many wounds. He loosens the blindfold from your eyes, and your blink up at him a few seconds later, squinting against the light.

Your skin is sticky with blood both your own and not, flecked across the apple of your cheeks. He eyes the burns, the warped and rippled skin that blistered angrily and would surely get infected if not treated soon. He observes the many cages set up in the corner, the one he presumes was yours wide open and empty. He feels sick seeing the dead bodies in the other ones, imagining that it could have been you in there, dead like some caged animal for slaughter.

You make a weak whimper when he stands, and he has half a mind to join Nightwing in beating Ras so badly he'd need to use the pit again.

But he doesn’t.

He rises to his feet with you in his arms, and he calls for a retreat. You cry and moan as he hurries out, Jason and Tim covering your exit while Dick flips into the rafters and out of range of the Demon Head. He wants to fight; he wants to put them in their place for hurting his family. But the moment he had met your eyes again, it was like that day in the alleyway. You had seen him as Batman too that day, but as he laid you hurriedly in the back of the batmobile and patched Oracle in to prep the med bay, he knew that something was different from that night.

Because unlike the day you lost your parents, he had made it in time.

[spencewalterreid]

If "I Love You" Was A Promise

Summary: Your mind has been unkind to you as of late, and Spencer picks up on it. He comes over to try to get you to open up.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN reader

Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: very self-deprecating, physical abuse if you squint (reader shoves Spencer), mean!reader but they don't mean it, mental breakdown (like... total meltdown), yelling, no use of y/n, Spencer being a sweetie, I think that's it.

Word count: 3k

Author's Note: I truly do love me some angsty angst. I've been going through a gloomy patch recently and wanted to just write a super self-indulgent comfort fic. enjoy enjoy enjoy

You met Spencer a few months ago at a bookstore and you were quick friends. He’s brilliant, great to talk with, and you like a lot of the same media. However, he also happens to be an FBI profiler, which means he thinks he knows everything about everyone all of the time. You’re getting pretty fucking sick of it. He noticed oh-so-astutely that you were going through some shit, and asked under the cover of a movie night to accompany you to your house. Blindingly naive, you agreed. That’s how you ended up in front of him in a heated argument about your current state of mind.

"I don't know what you want from me, Reid! This isn't any of your goddamn business. Just because I've been distracted doesn't mean you need to give me a fucking house call!" you shout, your hands pulling at your hair to ground yourself. "This has nothing to do with you."

Spencer held up his hands in a placating gesture, his voice calm and measured as he responded. "Okay, let's take a deep breath. I'm not trying to overstep any boundaries here."

He studied your body language intently - the way your hands gripped your hair, the tension in your shoulders. The distraction, the frustration, it was all rooted in something deeper, something that had nothing to do with their current argument.

"Tell me this," Spencer said, his tone gentle yet firm, "is there a pattern to these distractions? Have they been getting worse over time?" He leaned in slightly, his gaze locked onto yours. "Sometimes, it helps to talk things out with someone else. And right now, I'm here to listen."

Spencer was acutely aware of the small, cluttered apartment around him – the scattered books and papers on the coffee table, the faint smell of coffee that lingered in the air. He used the familiarity of the space to center himself, to keep his focus on understanding the root of your distress.

"I'm not here to judge or criticize," he assured you, his voice low and soothing. "I just want to make sure you're okay."

In that moment, Spencer's mind raced with possibilities, trying to piece together what the hell your problem was. Was this distraction tied to a past trauma, a family issue, or something else entirely? As an FBI profiler, he knew that the key to understanding a person's behavior lay in their history, their experiences, their upbringing.

"Talk to me," Spencer encouraged gently, his tone warm yet authoritative. "I'm here to listen. Please?" He held out his hand, a silent offer, and waited for you to open up to him. Yeah, right.

"God, stop being so fucking you for a minute!" you stomp up to him, about 2 feet away, and shove at his chest. "Act like a goddamn human, for once in your life! Would it kill you? Huh?"

Spencer stumbled back from the sudden shove, caught off guard by the contact. His heart raced as he felt the warmth of your hands against his chest, the bloom of dull pain. He was shocked. No one had ever laid hands on him like that before, no one he cared about at least, and especially not you.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to process the surge of emotions that flooded through him. If the breath was meant to keep tears at bay too, then maybe you didn’t need to know that.

"I... I know I'm not always easy to understand," Spencer said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know your mind works differently than most people's. But I'm trying... I'm trying to be here for you, in whatever way I can."

"Stop it!" you shout. "Stop trying to be unaffected. Stop trying to act like my fucking therapist, because you aren't! You... Don't... Know.. Me." you pause between each word, your finger in his face. "Stop trying to fucking profile me. Act like you have any sort of goddamn emotion, for once in your life!"

Spencer flinched as if struck, your finger hovering inches from his face. The harsh words hung heavy in the air between you, a bitter sting he couldn't shrug off like he might an insult from a suspect.

For just a moment, he faltered. He knows he's insecure, it's one of his biggest flaws, but he thinks maybe right now he should be. Maybe he's stepped too far. Maybe this isn't his place.

He shrugs that off just as soon as it comes. This is more important than being polite.

He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of your frustration, your anger, your desperation. It was raw, visceral, a maelstrom of emotion he struggled to comprehend. Slowly, deliberately, he reached up and wrapped his hand around your wrist, gently lowering your finger from his face.

"You're right," he said, his voice low. "I'm not your therapist. I'm not perfect.”

He paused, words careful with his gaze locked onto yours. "But know this... I care about you. More than I can express. And I'm trying.”

Spencer's other hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over the heated skin. "I may not always show it in ways you expect... but I do have feelings. This isn’t fair, you have to know that.” His eyes brim with unshed tears, as if pleading with you to apologize. He sincerely doubted he'd get that, at least right now.

His voice dropped to a whisper. "Tell me what you need. Tell me how to do this, because I’m at a loss.”

"Stop it! Stop, stop, stop!" you scream, pounding at his chest once more before turning to dig your fingernails into your scalp. "God, you're such a fucking asshole! You don't have a goddamn clue what you're talking about. You've only known me for a couple of months! You couldn't possibly-" your voice catches in your throat, but you choke down a sob. You couldn't possibly love me. You firmly remind yourself he did not say that. Why would he?

Spencer stumbled back, his stomach and a twist and head spinning as he absorbed the brutal impact of your fists against his chest. He tries to keep in mind that you aren’t trying to hurt him, you’re just overwhelmed. He’s having a hard time believing it.

He reached out, trying to grab your wrists to still your frantic movements. But you wrenched away, pacing the small room like a caged animal. Spencer stood frozen, watching the scene in front of him, cinematic in its drama.

"Just because I haven't known you long doesn't mean I don't care about you," he interjects, voice tensely controlled. "You don't get to tell me what I feel or don't feel."

He took a step closer, then another, until he stood behind you. Gently, carefully, he placed his hands on your shoulders, warmth seeping into your tight muscles.

"I can't pretend to know everything you've been through. I can't claim to understand what you're going through, especially 'cuz you won't tell me anything," he sighs. "But I see you, or I'm at least trying to. I see the strength in you, the resilience, the courage.” His fingers tighten minimally in support, pausing a moment. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll be damned if I let you face this alone."

That did it.

One sentence, and the dam is breaking. Months of grief, loneliness, and a lifetime of being a last priority come crashing into you all at once. Your knees buckle at the weight of it as sobs wrench your body. "Get out," you demand, but your hands wrap firmly around his arms. "Get out. Please." You shake your head. "Please, Spencer, go home." You press back into him, curling into his warmth. "You're such a fucking dick."

Spencer held on tighter, holding you up with a grip around your waist.

"Okay," he murmured. "Okay, I'll go. If that's what you need."

But he didn't let go. He couldn't. Not yet. Not until he knew you were steady. Not until he knew, without a doubt, that you meant it.

"Tell me this first," he pleaded softly, his cheek pressed against the top of your head. "Tell me you know you're not alone. That you have someone in your corner, no matter what."

His arms tightened, a silent vow. "I know we're not close, I know I'm not always the easiest person to deal with. But I'm trying. I'm trying to be what you need me to be."

He stood there, holding you through your sobs. It impressed you, the resolve of him. It impressed you that he didn’t get pissed, as much as you wanted him to. You aren’t used to gentleness. You’d rather fight than stand in front of someone who’ll just let you cry.

The wails leaving your throat embarrass the living shit out of you, and you know tomorrow you'll hate yourself for it, but right now you’re grateful. "I'm sorry," you cry. "I'm so sorry. So sorry, Spencer." You empty your lungs completely with your sobs, then refill them just to empty them again. "I hate you. I hate you," you repeat, holding his arms with a bruising grip as he gently lowers you onto the floor despite his unrelenting germaphobia. He winces. "I hate you."

The mindfulness applied was the kind he usually reserved for crime scenes. He sat behind you, cradling your trembling body against his chest, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your back as the other held your hand.

"Shh, it's okay," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "You don't need to apologize. You don't need to hate anything right now except maybe the hand dealt to you."

He rocked you gently, matching the rhythm of your ragged breaths. "I know you're hurting. I know it’s confusing. But please, don't hate yourself for feeling. Don't hate yourself for needing someone to be here for you."

Spencer's hand slid up to cup your cheek, tilting your face towards his. He thumbed away the tears that fell in steady streams, his own eyes a pool of their own. "Hate me if you need to. I can take it. I can take anything, as long as you're not hating yourself. None of this is your fault."

He leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours. "You're allowed to feel. You're allowed to break. You're allowed to scream and cry and rage until you have nothing left. And I'll be right here, picking up the pieces, gluing you back together.” He pulled back just enough to watch you for a moment, your cheeks burning ever hotter. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

Your breath catches on a hiccup. "Don't say that," you beg. "Please," you sob. "Don't you say that to me. You don't know me, Reid." your voice is totally wrecked, you sound like a toddler throwing a tantrum. "You don't know what you're saying, you-" your breath catches, then another, then another, and then before you know it you’re hyperventilating.

What you didn’t say was, when you say it out loud, it becomes a promise. What you didn’t say was, I trust you. To say that is to make a promise you will not keep. To say that is to promise to break my trust. What you didn’t say was, To say that is to lie.

Spencer felt a surge of panic as your breathing grew rapid and shallow, your body shaking violently in his arms. He tightened his grip, a fierce, protective hold, as if he could physically keep you anchored. A folly effort, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

"Hey, hey, slow down," he urged, his voice calm and steady despite the fear gripping his heart. "You're okay, you're safe. I've got you."

He slid his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck, tilting your head down towards your knees. "That's it, just like that. Breathe with me. In and out. Slow and steady."

"Don't- don't- don't- d-" You tremble like a fucking leaf. Pathetic. You try to calm down enough to say this because you know it needs to be said: "Don't make- make- don't make pr- promi- promises you ca- can't- can't keep."

Spencer’s heart drops. What did he do wrong?

He didn’t quite know what to say, but he made an effort anyway. "You need to breathe, sweetheart. You need to breathe through this, one breath at a time.”

You lean down to softly press your lips against his hand, still shivering. Shaking. "I'm so sorry," you whisper. "I'm sorry. This is so pathetic."

"Hey, hey, none of that," Spencer soothed, turning your face towards his. He brushed away a lingering tear with his thumb, his gaze locked onto your red-rimmed eyes. "Being human isn't pathetic. Feeling, caring, needing... that's what makes you beautifully, perfectly human."

The smile on his face is sad, but genuine. He lays his hand on the side of your head, dragging a thumb across your temple. “I'm here because I want to be. Because I choose to be. Your strength and your vulnerability, they're a part of what draws me to you. Never apologize for being who you are."

"Can you stay?" you whisper feebly. "I mean, you don't-" you hiccup. "Don't feel pressured, of course. You know what?" You force a smile, which appears hopelessly pathetic considering the salt stains marring your cheeks. "I'm actually okay. I'm so okay. You can go home, Spencer. Go get some rest. Sorry." You move to get up, but his hold tightens. He mets your gaze, his voice low and firm. "No. I'm not going anywhere. I told you... I'm staying right here, with you."

He adjusted your position, lying down and gathering you fully into his arms, holding you close against his chest. "Rest now," he murmured, stroking your hair. "I'll be here when you wake up." Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your hair.

You chuckle without any meaning. "Spencer, no. Not on the hardwood floor," you say apologetically, sitting up. "You can take the bed. I'll sleep on the couch. C'mon, get up."

Spencer reinforced his embrace, not letting you pull away as he sat up slowly. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the last of their tears. "I'm not leaving you alone. End of discussion."

He stood, pulling you up with him, then guided you down the hallway, to your bedroom, then to sit on the edge of the bed beside him. Spencer's arm remained wrapped around your shoulders, a constant, comforting presence.

"I'll sleep here, with you. I won't leave your side." His voice softened, a gentle caress. "Please don't ask me to go, not now. I need to be here for you.”

"Spence-"

"No," he interjects. "No. Lay down. I'm gonna get you some water, I'll be right back."

He pats the bed behind you. Sluggish, you settle back into the plush mattress, encircling yourself in the comforter, dragging it right up to the bottom of your chin. You huff.

Spencer returned a moment later, a glass of water in hand. He set it on the bedside table and looked down at you, sympathy written all over him as he observed your closed eyes and the way you had curled in on yourself, still sniffling in the aftershocks.

Gently, he sat on the edge of the bed, his weight causing it to dip slightly. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingertips grazing your cheek. You felt warm, almost feverish.

"Hey, sweetheart..." Spencer's voice was soft, almost a whisper. He leaned in closer, his breath ruffling the hair he had just smoothed. "I know you're not asleep."

His hand slid down to your shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. "Talk to me. What's going on in that beautiful mind of yours?" Spencer's words were gentle, a nudging request. Not a demand. Never a demand. He wanted to know you were okay, but he wouldn't force it out of you. If you were going somewhere dark, he wanted to follow you with a flashlight in hand, but only if you'd let him.

"Go to bed, Spencer."

Spencer's brow furrowed, stubbornness hard-set on his face. He didn't move from his perch on the edge of the bed, his hand still resting firmly on your shoulder.

"No. You can’t go to bed feeling like this. It could cause nightmares, increased cortisol levels, and I know you’ll have a headache in the morning if you don’t drink water." He took a deep breath, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your shoulder. "Please, talk to me. Let me help carry this burden with you. I'm stronger than I look, I promise."

You smile, your eyes still closed. "You look plenty strong," you reply. "Please, go to sleep. I'm tired."

Spencer's eyes narrowed, not convinced. “Look at me. Please." When you didn't immediately comply, he gently squeezed your shoulder. “I know you're hurting, and I know you’re tired, but you can’t end the night like this.”

He paused, his posture wilting in his frustration.

You open your eyes and roll onto your back. "Drop it, Reid. It's late, I just cried my fucking eyes out, I want to go to bed. Now, either lay your pretty ass down, or go sleep on the couch."

Spencer studied your face, trying to settle the odds with himself. Accepting defeat, he finally relented with a soft sigh. "Fine.”

He slipped off his shoes and climbed into bed beside you, being mindful not to jostle you. Settling onto his back, he turned to face you, a gentle hand coming to rest on your waist. "Goodnight," he murmured, eyes already heavy with fatigue. "Sleep well."

"Can I-" You turn toward him, but shut your mouth before you ask. "Nevermind. Goodnight."

Spencer felt you shift, turning to face him. “No, what were you going to say?”

You hum, trying to decide how to phrase it. “It was nothing.”

“Here,” he offers, lifting the arm nearest you, inviting you to curl into him. He’s always so observant. Despite your thus-short friendship, he knew exactly what you wanted. You complied.

"Sleep well, sweetheart," he repeated, his hand on your waist giving a gentle, comforting squeeze. "I'll be right here when you wake."

[zayneslady]

hey!! loved that angst fic you wrote xx can i request the boys reaction to when the reader/mc and them are in an argument, and they accidentally said something extremely hurtful and it made reader cry. make the boys regret it so much pls hehe😼 thank you 💗

warnings: angst, open ending again hehe and again, reader is not MC

characters: Zayn, Xavier, Rafayel x reader (separately)

a/n: my first request *-* thank you so much! This exact trope is one of my favorites. I hope you enjoy it! Get your tissues ready! Also thank you to everyone's support in my first post! I'm so happy! ❤️

Classification: scenarios

ZAYNE ❄️

You didn't want to admit it, but you were sick. During the day you felt a little sore in your throat and your nose was stuffy. Arriving at Zayne's house after work, it was more than obvious that you had a fever. Your face was red and the chills running through your body made you shiver. 

There was nothing else to do, you would miss work tomorrow to fully recover. Furthermore, with the care of your loving doctor, you knew you'd be fine in no time. So you quickly took a shower and after drying your hair, you grabbed a blanket and curled up on the couch with a cold patch on your forehead, waiting for Zayne patiently. 

To your surprise, he arrived at a normal time and your heart vibrated with joy when you saw him enter. He had his head low as he stepped out of his shoes and closed the door behind him. 

"Zayne! Welcome back! How was your day?” You greeted him as he shrugged his coat off. “Guess what," you said, giggling softly because it was quite obvious by your funny voice that you were sick. "I got a little sick after yesterday's ra- 

You jumped a little when Zayne suddenly groaned, whipping his head up to look at you. “Oh my Lord,” he said, annoyed. “Can't you see I'm fucking tired? You do not know when you shut your damned mouth? I can't stand you! Why are you so clingy?” 

Your eyes widened and your face turned bright red. Your mind went blank and you didn't notice the tears streaming down your face until Zayne's face changed from complete anger to guilt. He looked at you from the door as if he didn't know what had happened just now. He didn't recognize himself. How did he dare to talk to you like that when you-

He gasped softly, “you're sick.”

You tried to clean your tears with your hands as you got up from the couch. Zayne made an attempt to come close to you, but you quickly ran to the bedroom only to come back after a couple of minutes with your shoes and coat on. 

“Excuse me,” you said, as you approached the door. 

“What? Where are you going like this? You need to rest.”

You nodded, trying to keep some distance from him. “I know. I'll rest back home. So please move.”

“Stay here. I'll take care of you,” he grabbed your hand and more tears fell down. How could he talk so sweetly right now after what he said. 

You shook your head, pulling your hand away and pushing him aside so you could open the door. “I don't need you, Zayne. Not when you can't stand me.”

“I was wrong, please.”

“I was wrong too. Goodbye, Zayne.”

XAVIER ⭐

“My poor Xavier,” you mumbled, gently cleaning a wound in Xavier's side. You winced when he did and your heart broke. You knew perfectly well that this could happen because of his line of work, but you felt terrible every time he came home hurt. “Oh, Xav, is it too painful?” You asked as you started to bandage him. 

He shook his head, breathing heavily and resting his head against the pillow on his bed. “It could be worse. Thank you for helping out.” 

“No need to thank me,” you said, smiling at him as you placed a tender and loving hand over his now bandaged wound. “I wish you didn't have to do this. It's so dangerous.” 

Your words had no poison. You clearly didn't want Xavier to suffer in any way. Why couldn't he have a regular, safe job? Maybe he's just strong because he has to protect everyone. You said those words from the bottom of your warm heart, so you were more than surprised to hear Xavier's response:

“What? Are you saying I'm weak?” He spat and you blinked. 

“N-No! I'm just saying that I wish you had another job because- 

“Is that so? So you rather have a bunch of wanderers attacking innocent people? Just because you don't want me to get hurt?” 

“It's- It's not like that! I never said that. I just get worried sick for you and-

“Maybe I should really stop, huh? Just turn a blind eye to everything that's happening like egoist people like you di.”

He just kept vomiting out words, one harsher than the last. Every time you tried to speak and fix this misunderstanding, his irrational words drowned out your voice and it made something heavy and nauseating settle in your stomach. This was not going to end well in any way. 

“Xavier, my love, please listen to me. I do not- 

“Maybe one day a wanderer will actually kill you. And believe me, I won't even bat an eye at you,” he said, crossing his arms and turning his head away from you. 

Your eyes had never filled with tears as quickly as that moment. Your body began to shake with suppressed sobs as you felt heat and disappointment throughout your body. Did Xavier just... wish for your death? And in the hands of a creature as horrible as a wanderer? 

“Oh no,” he suddenly said and you flinched when you felt his touch against your cheek. “I am so, so sorry.” You cried a little harder before getting up from his bed. “W-Wait, my star. Please, I'm sorry.”

No words came out. You simply grabbed your bag and left the room.

He called your name and then groaned in pain as he tried to move. “Pl-please, come back! Where-

You couldn't hear more of his words as you closed the door of his apartment. Did this mean the end? You truly thought so. 

Rafayel 🐠

"Ah, welcome back, Rafayel!" The amount of excitement that rushed through your body whenever your eyes landed on him was almost overwhelming. It wasn't that you hadn't seen him in a long time, but a second without him felt like a century. 

His eyes, usually warm and sparkling, looked cold and even angry at seeing you in his house. "Hello," he said dryly as he closed the door behind him. You frowned slightly. "What are you doing here?" 

"Hmm, nothing much. I just wanted to visit you. Is that alright?" 

He sighed, placing a paper bag on the table. "Yeah, sure. I gave you a key after all."

You cleared your throat, nodding awkwardly. "Did... you have a good day?" 

He sighed again and shook his head as he stepped out of his shoes. "I didn't. It was terrible for the very first moment I opened my eyes. You see," he started and you nodded, listening carefully. "I overslept so I lost precious time for my painting. Then I didn't have time to eat so I didn't eat anything but a piece of bread."

You immediately got up to make dinner for him, maybe after eating he'd feel better? 

"And the worst thing was," he said, collapsing onto his couch. "I couldn't find my emerald green paint so I had to go all the way to the art store and get a new one! Ugh!" 

You blinked, frowning a little. "Your emerald green?" 

"That's what I said."

"Hmm, I'm very sure I put it in all of your greens?" You left the ingredients aside as you walked to the paints. "Here it is." 

He got up and looked at you with an astonished expression. Confusion quickly turned into anger and he was yelling at you in a second. "Why didn't you tell me?!"

"You saw me last night!" You explained, carefully leaving the paint back in place. "You said you wanted your paints to be more organized and I asked you if I could help you out! You even told me you liked how I organized it by colors!" 

Rafayel let out a frustrated sigh as a hand carded through his hair. "I can't believe I just lost all of that precious time because of your stupid mistake!"

"Excuse me?"

"Every time you try to help, you just mess things up! Can't you keep your little hands to yourself for once? I was just stupid for letting you help me out! You are way too much, I can't stand you sometimes.”

You were stunned. He had never said anything like that about you, you couldn't even remember other times when you wanted to help him and you ruined it. Besides, it wasn't your fault. The green paint was there all along and he just hadn't taken the time to look for it properly.

You knew it wasn't your fault, but his harsh words and the anger and hatred in his eyes were too much. Tears quickly filled your eyes and began to fall down your reddened cheeks. 

Rafayel realized his mistake a bit too late. Letting out a gasp as he watched the first tear fall, he hurriedly approached you, but you backed away, putting space between the two of you. He couldn't say anything, too surprised by his own words.

What was just a moment seemed like minutes, endless hours with deafening silence. Only your sobs echoed around the entire house, until your voice, small and trembling, made him jump. 

“I won't touch your stuff again, Rafayel,” you said softly, avoiding his eyes. 

“N-No, I didn't mean-

You nod, “if you don't mind, I'll sleep in your guest room. Goodnight, Rafayel.”

Deep inside you so desperately wanted him to stop you, but he watched you disappear into the hall and never called you back.

You knew it was going to be a very cold night.

[grimdarling69]

Another deaged Dan and ellie or otherwise known as Crack.

Pt1 pt2 pt3. pt4

Jason was out patrolling Crime Alley when Clark called him freaking out.

Clark was currently in the doghouse with most of the bats and his sons. While most of it wasn't really his fault his family wasn't really the letting go type. He would know.

"What the hell do you want." He grimaced, that came out a lot rougher than he intended but sue him his brother had been missing for a week and they still were no were closer to finding him.

"Jason! How can you tell which rich men are predators?" What the hell.

"Get here now."

Which is how he came to be sitting across from a crisscross apple sauced Superman in his nearest safe house nursing a beer.

"I overheard something today at work." Kill him now. He was about to pull out a cyanide pill if this fucker didn't stop beating around the goddamn bush.

"What don't you overhear." He took another swing of his beer. He'd need plenty of it if Clark was gong to pester him for some fucking story while his brother was out there who knows where with God knows who, doing fucking anything. He could feel the green starting to rise and he did his best to push it back down but his vision was still tinged. It was happening a lot more often lately.

"Lex Luthor is apparently a sex trafficker." Atleast he was no longer beating around the bush but what the fuck? He knows the top suspect is Luthor and he's going to make a fucking joke about that. This was so not funny.

" I don't know what your playing at but you better explain yourself before I put a kryptonite bullet in your head." This fucker was going to singlehandedly destroy all his hardwork in therapy.

" One of my coworker's moms works at lexcorp, she called him today talking about the fact lex had two sick kids hanging around but disappeared and that a new one apparently showed up sick as well, last week." That got his attention.

"I also overheard her say he was experimenting on all of them and that the newest one spent time in Luthors own bedroom." He was going to cut Lexs dick off and shove it so far down his throat it was going to come out the other end. The green was suffocating.

"You think it's Damian."

"Who else? But the other kids I'm not sure." The other kids could have been surrogates for Damian but he was missing something. Kids because Lex has now kidnapped two other kids and experimented on them. And was probably hurting or experimenting on Damian in all kinds of ways he didn't even want to think about. The green spiking and flooding his senses, urging him to put down down anything that hurt his baby brother his...fraid? What the hell? He shook that thought off, that's never happened before. The green never allowed him to have such clear and borderline strange thoughts before.

"We need to go to the batcave." Shoving his helmet on, not even waiting for Clark's response, he'd beat him their anyway.

‐------------

Jon was sat perched on the rocks high in the cave, listening for even a hint of wherever Damian had gone. His dad who he was absolutely pissed at bad arrived and asked everyone to to 'please listen to whatever he and Jason have to say before you interupt'. Which led to a lot of shouting and arguing he was ignoring. He already knew what it was about he had been straining listening to every single person mentioning lex luthor.

He couldn't imagine Damian in that position. It wasn't that he didn't understand it could happen to anyone it was just disbelief that it could happen to... his best friend, who he's had a crush on for years. He obviously knew that no one was infallible, much less Damian, but he couldn't help think it. Damian always seemed untouchable.

Eventually, everybody quieted down again and went back to their own things. The quiet was unwelcome. He'd been having strange dreams since before he heard of Damian's disappearance.

They always started out normal enough. He was walking in a park that seemed familiar, but he knows for a fact he's never been to. After a while, he comes to a picnic table with various snacks and drinks thrown around in smaller piles like they were transfered from someone's arms to quickly care.

A boy with bright orange hair, covered in freckles everywhere, he can see wearing a basketball jersey attempting to twirl a ball on one finger, his hands are covered in colorful markers, both drawing snd wikd splotches. He instinctively recognizes him as 'Wes' even though he has no clue who he is. 'Wes' briefly tries to wave at him but loses his grip on his ball and has to chase it down the hill, cursing all the way. When he turned the back of his legs, have punctured, looking scars on them like something grabbed him and dragged him around, seering fangs into his flesh.

Another boy 'Tuck' is typing madly at what he can recognize as a PDA even though he's only seen them on old TV. He's placed in the center surrounded by tools most on his left and right side like he picked them up and threw them back down too quickly to care. His hands have several scars, but his left arm is the worst, 3rd degree burns healed, but still looked painful. His tongue is sticking out the side of his mouth, and he keeps pushing his dreads underneath a red beanie, but before his hands even touches his device, they've already slid back out.

There's two other girls side by side, one shooting airplanes and attempting to get the other to 'play with her'. One 'Val' his mind supplies somehow, has darker skin, and wears a typical y2k outfit complete with a flip-phone she secured on her body with a yellow ribbon. Her face has a huge jagged scar running from the side, almost touching her mouth as if her head slammed on something sharp, then dragged downward purposefully and other smaller scars on everywhere else. She looks straight out of one of his mom's old photo books rather than a 2000s fashion enthusiast. She smirks at him and waves her finger at him in a 'come hither' kinda way.

The other girl 'ellie', wear more baggy clothes, the knees are torn and darker from wear and tear rather than on purpose like what he himself has worn. From the little skin she shows he can see both bruising new and old with quite a few 'narley' looking scars. She sees him and waves, smiling brightly, she grabs one of the paper airplane and throws it into the sky. 'Ellie' then waves her hands around in a motion that looks like it was practiced for more effects than practical. Wind billows past her making the paper go soaring for a brief minute before it self-destructive under the stress of the wind. She pouts and stomps her foot before grabbing another one and trying again.

He continues past her and sits near 'val'. Val grabs his shoulders and snaps a phota on her phone. "Say cheese," she says through her teeth, smiling joyfully. For some reason, he obeys her command and smiles softly at the camera. He feels happy and peaceful. Val shoves the phone in his hand for him to inspect, but something is wrong.

He-she has dark black hair that seems to have a purple hue to it. Her makeup is dark and shadowed, and her clothes are shorter than he's ever worn before. They look sewn together cruedly but with an attention to detail he often lacks. She has quite a few scars ranging from scrapes to jagged cuts. Somehow, the girl holds a peace sign up, and he can see her claw like nails. The black paint was patchy in places, making him able to tell those were real nails, not just fake acrylics.

He looks down, and he sees her. Before he starts to spiral,'Danny' calls out. "Sam! There you are. I've been looking everywhere for you!" 'Danny' has even worse scarring than anyone else the way he leans over him he can see inside his shirt, a large autopsy scar is healed rough and jagged edges make it known he fought the whole time. He has litchenberg type figures from his right hands palm all the way up to his throat. Weren't they supposed to fade? He knows logically that he can't be Damian, but he also just feels like he is, like he's just like Jon's best friend, like he's known him forever and loves him. 'Danny' appearance then starts to shift from looking even more like Damian his eyes and face stay carefree, but his harsh scarring looks even more profound against his darker skin. 'Damian's' head comes to rest on his shoulder and he feels 'Sam' start to lean down and kiss him, but as soon as they lock eyes the dream is over leaving him in a panting mess, trying to catch his breath.

He's had that exact same dream for a week now with no change. All ending in the exact same spot. He wasn't sure who to talk to about it. It felt important, but what if it's just a dream?

"Jon? Hanging in there?" Kon floated up, he staying in the air probably in case he reacted negatively. He hates how they treat him like a ticking time boom, Damian never treats him like that. Come on, just say it. He's your brother.

"I just...miss him." he buried his head in his hands like the coward he was. Kon floated closer until he was landing right next him, bumping his shoulder.

"I know Jon, I get it." No you really don't. Cause i don't let you.

-----------

"So there is a boy you like?" Vlad pestered him rubbing his back.

"I never said it was a boy." He snarked before throwing up his entire stomach up in the toilet.

"Please Damian, I went to school with your father. Both of them now actually." He said matter a factually.

"Gay." He said in between hurling. Finally after not immediately throwing up as soon as he even moves slightly Vlad places a water bottle in his hands.

"Thank you." He mumbles, mind your manners young master.

Vlad was nice and all sometimes, but he missed his family. Pennyworths chiding, Richard's easy smiles and praises, Father's lessons. He missed it all.

Vlad really wasn't the best at emotions or parenting really. He... cared for him but he was more that fun uncle you realize was really just crazy. Not he'd ever tell Vlad that.

"Let's go back to work."

"Are you sure? We can take a longer break?"

"We both know we can't afford it."

Things weren't going all that well. They had realized fairly quickly that the incubation was going to follow a real pregnancy timeline if not a little shorter up to the birth where they will just faze out when their ready. Vlad theorized it was a protective measure his body was doing to make the pregnancy less ghostly. He couldn't handle even a half-ghostly anything. The flight to the island drained him of all of the ectoplasm he was able to accumulate over the years despite the corruption.

Due to the corruptedness of the pits he was basically severely ecto-deprived and any ecto he gains goes to the two extra cores or fixing the corruption. He can't even make any ectoplasm anymore because of the corruption stopping it. He needs to get to the Infinate Realms as soon as possible or else neither him or his kids will continue to exist. Vlad was also weaker using his own ectoplasm to power things because the purified ecto was so much weaker than just natural.

The ectopods give him a boost but he was getting worse. The ectopods had failed Dan and Ellie to.

Vlad was starting to get a little protective and by a little he means not wanting to let him out of sight at all. Barely for a bathroom break. Ancients forbid he takes more than five minutes and Vlad pulls a sledgehammer out.

He may or not be going a little stir crazy. It was agonizing he's not used to dealing with this much attention. His parents in his first life were mostly focused on the portal or their work in general until they suddenly realized they had kids then showered them with affection just to forget about them just as quickly. The league of assassins and his mother don't need any explanation really, between training there wasn't much time for affection his mother sometimes did but it was always behind closed doors when noone was watching at all and that didn't happen near as much as you would think. His father wasn't really affectionate on anything, the most he would get for a mission gone right was a pat on the back and a "good job chum" and it often felt more forced with him than the others. Richard was quite affectionate with both his words and his actions. Getting a passing grade or winning a fight or even losing a fight seemed to be a cause of celebration. He was physical with his affection, hugs and kisses on the forehead, but even the second he started feeling uncomfortable he would pull away. Sometimes it was nice sometime he just wished he would push just a little further.

Vlad didn't have any of that. He was all antagonistic words, he didn't even always seem to mean it, it just happened with him. His attention nice for a while but got tiring and he couldn't just ask him to leave him alone because Vlad would take it wrong. He also never knew when to leave him alone. Like he didn't need to sleep in his room just cause he was having headaches and occasional nosebleeds he had that plenty with concussions before and had been able to treat it since he was 4 years old. He thinks if Vlad says one word more on 'taking a break' or 'drinking some more water' he was going to punch him in the face.

"You dont need to push yourself! you'll only end up in more pain just take a five minute break? Please think of the kids I'm also there father to you know!" There it is.

Damian while around and punched him in the face. The force and the surprise knocking him onto the floor.

"Damian! What the hell is your problem, young man!" He attempted to get up but he didn't let him. He easily swept his feet from under him and pushed him back down.

"I'm sick and tired of you always thinking you know what's best for me! Well news flash. You don't." He punched him in the face, expertly evading Vlads dodging. Vlad was powerful with powers but without them he was much more skilled.

"Stop this right now!" He'd have to make him.

And make him he did. Shit. He overestimated just how much ecto Vlad had been giving him because he stopped holding back his strength and shoved him off.

Crack.

Shit Vlad definitely either broke or cracked one of his ribs. He must of really pissed him off because that didn't stop him. He ran at him and kicked him in the throat. He gasped for air.

"Are we done yet?" Fuck you. He grabbed his legs and pulled him down. Almost straddling him and started to beat his face in. Vlad spit out blood but started to heal quicker than he could hurt him. Switching their positions he stsrted to choke him out. He choked for air but remembering his training, he quickly administerd a move that would have taken down any regular human down.

Vlad quickly recovered even angrier and threw him roughly at the glass of the lab shattering it and landing in it. He could feel the glass prickling against his skin. Bloody streaks painting his hands, glass embedded. He tried getting up but heard a loud gasp.

Susan stood hand over her mouth. Her skin pale and her hand gripped her tablet so hard he could hear creaks. He laid his head back down. He suddenly didn't feel like fighting anymore.

"Take him to the physician." Vlad spoke, voice distant and echoey. He couldn't resist the pull of darkness and fell under.

--------

After Clark shared his findings with the cave a month ago, Tim and Barbara have been hard at work trying to track the call, but meeting dead ends all around. Lex's security to tight and better than ever before.

Until, a new call came through.

"David! Oh David it's horrible!" She cried, her sobbing evident even through the poor phone service. They quickly got to work, everyone joining in around them. It had a two months since the last time they saw their littlest bat. No way where they letting the opportunity slip through their hands again.

"That little boy! He threw him through a window! He's been in and out of emergency surgeries for a week. A week! He had a punctured lung, an almost crushed larynx, a broken collarbone, and five cracked or broken ribs. Not to mention, he's covered in bruises and srapes from the glass! It's terrible! That little boy, just laying on the operating table, his heart stopped twice. Twice! Oh, David! I don't know what to do." She was in hysterics. Oh god, that was his brother. His baby brother.

He ignored the broken sobs around him and pushed his down.

"I've got it." Barbara announced, hse didn't sound relieved in any way but he understood they still had to save him and from what they heard from her, he may never fully recover.

"Supers, fly ahead, scout out. This is Lex, he's bound to have plenty of kryptonite." The supers flew out without even acknowledgeing their orders.

He paused. Please don't say it. Please

"Evrybody else... to the batjet."

It didn't really matter what he said anyway everybody in the cave was ready to go war, with or without Bruce.

A/N if yall think for one second that a relationship built from the ashes of one of the most traumatic moments in their lives is going to be perfect, yall kidding yourselves. Vlad is never going to be perfect he and damian/Danny will always be archenemys who may or may not have some fluffy moments they'll still have met because he wat trying to kill his father so he could marry his mother. Vlad desperately wanting him to be son is so obsessive and insane he creates a clone of him to be his kid. They may care for each other, but vlad will never truly be a good choice for Danny in general.

[noxitsnox]

if we get too closе, would it be okay?

hyun-ju x gn!reader - highschool au

summery: hyun-ju came out to her- now ex- girlfriend who spread the rumor around the whole school.

tags: trans/homophobia (the word tr**ny is used one (1) time), bullying, hurt/comfort, lots of fluff i promise, let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: i am obsessed it's not fair. this is pre-t but i'm still going to use she/her pronouns for hyun-ju <3 also english is not my first language and this isn't proof read, so i apologize for any mistake. @exactlyinfp

hyun-ju didn't want to go to school that day. her girlfriend, ex girlfriend now, broke up with her just because she trusted her, because she didn't want to hide anymore and she believed that her girlfriend of almost two years would understand. but she didn't. she called her all kind of names and blocked her everywhere.

she hoped this was where it ended. that they could just ignore each other and keep living life as it is. it would have been so much easier that way. but the moment she entered the school hallway she knew something happened. the looks she was getting were strange, full of hate. definitely not the looks you receive when you just broke up. she tried to ignore it and walked to her class with her head down.

it was early. a lot of time passed before some of her classmates entered the room. maybe it was better if they stayed outside. their chatter died down as soon as they saw her. one of them, who was seated next to her, took his desk and dragged it as far away from her as possible. “you're sick”, he said under his breath. “stay away from me.”

she stayed silent as the realization hit her. if he knew, everyone else did too. fighting tears, she forced herself to keep cool.

slowly people filled the room. everyone ignored her, even her so called friends looked at her with disgust. only y/n seemed to be acting as if nothing happened. maybe they didn't know about it yet. they’ll turn their back to you like everyone else, she thought.

“oh hyun-ju, how are you?”

y/n waited for an answer that never arrived. so, with a sad smile, they spoke again. “it's fine. you don't have to talk with me. you have my number in case you change your mind.”

———

for the rest of the week she ignored everyone. she was barely alive.

every morning she entered school feeling like a criminal. her locker in the changing rooms was filled with insults. some guys even tried to push her on the ground. that was the only moment she reacted. she could ignore words, but physical aggression was were she drew the line.

every night she cried herself to sleep, wishing she had someone on her side, someone to talk to. her family didn't know about what was happening in school and she hoped for it to stay that way or she wouldn't even have a home anymore.

it was on saturday afternoon that she lost it. she was out, getting some groceries for her mother at the local market, and she saw her ex with her friends. she tried to hide before they could notice her, but she wasn't fast enough.

"oh god, isn't that that tranny you used to date?", one said pointing at her.

"don't say that out loud, please. what will people think of me?"

hyun-ju ran away without even taking food from the market stall. she kept running until their voice became indistinguishable echoes.

she sat on the side walk and took out her phone, looking for y/n contact. she started crying, the tears blurring her vision.

their words came back to her. you have my number in case you change your mind. were they serious? she hesitantly called them, hoping for the best.

y/n didn't take long to answer and for that she was grateful.

"hey, you called!"

"i- yes... listen can you, can you come here?"

"oh hyun-ju, you're crying? is everything okay?"

"i don't even know anymore. please, just come here." and with that she hung up the phone, quickly shared the position with them.

she hugged her knees as she waited.

———

y/n was happy that hyun-ju called, even if the situation wasn't ideal. even though they weren't intimate, they cared about her and it made them sad to see her suffer. especially if she was being ridiculed for something beyond her control.

y/n tried to get to her as fast as possible. they went out in their sweats without bothering to put on something nicer. they didn't like the idea of hyun-ju seeing them in that state, but they also realized that they had to put vanity aside at the moment.

as soon as she saw y/n she got up and hugged. they remained in that position for a while. hyun-ju cried and cried while y/n rubbed her back, doing what they could to comfort her.

"sorry... i don't know why i did that", she said as she let go of them.

"you don't have to apologize. do you feel better now?"

"i do, thanks."

an awkward silence fell until y/n suggested they start walking with a wave of their hand, "do you wanna talk about what's happening?"

"i just want to forget about it. can we talk about something else?"

"oh sure", y/n looked at her and smiled. "do you wanna hear about this manga i'm reading?"

a/n: i realize that for an xreader the reader is barely there 😬 sorry. let me now if you liked it!!

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Holding It Together

MAIN MASTERLIST / MARVEL MASTERLIST 

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1,065ish

Summary: It all becomes too much and Logan can tell.

Warning(s): some angst, mental breakdown

Notes: I wrote this because I'm really struggling right now and I wish I had someone to break down to. You can really imagine any type of Logan you want.

Everything had slowly piled on. From every direction. Work. Family life. Your insecurities. The political climate. Your health problems.

On the outside, you forced yourself to seem put together, positive, and okay. But on the inside, you were breaking faster than you could put yourself together. You didn’t want anyone to know how bad it was getting, but someone was slowly seeing the cracks you didn’t know were coming through your facade. 

Logan first noticed when you laughed at one of Scott’s lame jokes one breakfast. It wasn’t as loud as it usually was, more hollow. The next time, he found you zoned out in the library. He watched you curiously for a moment. And before he could go to you, Ororo pulled you out of your daze and dragged you a long to come help her.

Logan noticed that you were being pulled in too many directions. Everyone wanted your help all the time. To collaborate on lessons. To ask questions. To hang out. Or to run trainings and missions. Then there were the family events you were constantly going to when you had time. He couldn’t remember the last time you took a day off or insisted on staying in your room for the night. Logan was growing concerned that you weren’t going to be able to handle all of this much longer.

One night, on his way to bed, Logan saw you in the hall. You clearly didn’t notice him as a few tears slipped down your cheeks and you seemed to head to your room on autopilot.

“Y/N?” He called your name.

You froze and quickly wiped away your tears. “Hey, Logan,” you forced out a smile. 

“Y/N,” he repeated, his tone full of concern as he stepped closer to you. “Are you okay?”

You bit your lip and nodded. “I’m fine.”

His brow quirked. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

He didn’t believe you one bit. “I’ve noticed that you been non-stop lately.”

“It’s just life,” you shrugged.

Logan shook his head. “No, it’s not, sweetheart. This is much more than that.”

You sighed. “I’m okay, Logan.”

“Y/N—“

“I’m going to bed. Goodnight.” Then you disappeared into your room.

~~~

Logan kept his distance the next day but also made sure that you were in his line of sight most of the day. You were holding yourself like the weight of the world was on your shoulders and Logan hated to see you that way. He just wanted you to be happy and relax.

As they day went on, Logan watched you continually put others before yourself in unhealthy ways. You really had no boundaries. When Kitty asked for your help with prepping dinner, Logan stepped in. He had had enough.

“No, Y/N’s going to go rest,” Logan said, placing himself between you and Kitty.

“What?” You questioned. “Logan, I’m fine.”

He turned around to face you. “No, you’re not. Let’s go.” He gently turned you around and began guiding you to your room. 

“Logan—“

“Not hearing it, sweetheart.”

“Logan, please.” Tears collected in your eyes.

“I’m done watching you run on fumes. You’re going to rest and I’ll bring you whatever you need.”

“No.” You pulled yourself from Logan’s grip and spun around to face him. “I can’t, Logan. I need to keep going.”

“You’re going to get sick if you continue on like this.”

“I have to keep going. If I don’t… Just, please, Logan. I’m fine.”

He shook his head. “No. I’m not dropping this. You’re running yourself to the ground and I can’t stand by and watch it anymore.”

“There’s just so much,” you admitted quietly, allowing the tears to fall. “If I help everyone else, I don’t have to think about it.”

“Sweetheart…” He stepped closer and carefully cupped your face in his large, rough hands. “Ignoring the problems are just going to make it worse. Trust me, I’m the king of doing that.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just all too much, Logan… It’s all too much.” You broke down into sobs and Logan quickly pulled you into him, holding you close.

“I got you, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” 

Gently, Logan picked you up and carried you the rest of the way to your room. He tried to set you down on your bed but you gripped him tightly. He toed his boots off as he held you before moving to lay on the bed. 

“You can’t keep going like this, sweetheart,” he told you as you cried against him. “You’re wearing yourself down and it’s hurtin’ me to see.”

“I’m sorry,” you cried.

He shushed your apology. “Don’t do that.”

“Everything’s just so overwhelming… I’m so alone and I don’t know how to handle any of it.”

“I’m not goin’ to let you handle it alone anymore. I’m right here for you, sweetheart.”

You pushed yourself up to try to get off of Logan and shook your head. “No, I can’t put my burdens on you, Lo—“

“Stop that.” He pulled you back against him. “You can’t keep your burdens to yourself any longer. I’m here and willing.”

“Why?”

Logan looked at you and hesitated. How could he possibly tell you that he had a major crush on you when you were at such a low? He would have to wait and be okay with just being a friend for now.

“Because, sweetheart, I care about you,” he responded. “And I’m your friend. Let me help.”

You nodded. “And it all… won’t scare you away?”

“Never, darlin’. Nothing you could say would ever scare me away from you.”

Your breath caught at his words and the look in his eyes. You could see that he was serious and that there was something else behind it. You didn’t push though, not in the right mindset.

“I need you to stop holding it all in, sweetheart,” Logan continued. “I need you to be straight with me and allow me to help you.”

“I don’t know where to even start, Logan… Just the thought of any of it… I get emotional and I—“

“Calm down, darlin’. Breathe. We don’t have to talk about anything right now. Whenever you’re ready.” He kissed your head. “Right now, let me just hold you. Okay?”

You let yourself sink into him further, tears still slipping from your eyes. “What if I fall asleep?”

“Then I’ll hold you until you wake. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

[findmeinforks]

The Incident - Paul Lahote x Fem!Reader

A little one shot that I just couldn't stop writing. A good angst to fluff (btw my fics will never be all angst, im too soft). Also do not fear, Im working on a Sam fic and part 3 to not letting you go. But you let ME know what you think of this one ❤️ 2K words

"My SISTER, Paul. She's my fucking SISTER!" you yelled, voice hoarse as your throat cracked.

"I could give a SHIT LESS WHAT SHE IS. YOU'RE. NOT. GOING." He screamed, jaw taut as he tried his best to subside the tremors that were threatening to take over his body.

You ignored the teeth he bared, shaking your head and scoffing.

"Aren't you tired of this?! I'm going over there. I HAVE to know she's safe."

"YOU SERIOUSLY THINK I'LL JUST SIT BY AND WATCH MY IMPRINT GO TO A PLACE WHERE I CAN'T PROTECT HER? WHAT ABOUT ME KNOWING THAT YOU'RE SAFE?? HUH?? YOU'RE SICK IF YOU THINK I WOULD BE OKAY WITH THIS!"

"Sick?!? SICK?!? LETS TALK ABOUT HOW 'SICK' IT IS THAT YOU WOULD WANT TO KILL HER AND THE BABY. THATS MY FAMILY PAUL!"

"AND WERE NOT?"

It had been like this for a week straight. Ever since the pack stormed through the door announcing their mission to kill Bella and the unborn child within her.

You felt as though your two families had been pinned against each other. Head spinning at the idea of there being a 'choice' between your sister and imprint.

On one hand you were desperate to make sure she was alright, but also exhausted at the never ending battle with your boyfriend.

Sure you had talked to Bella over the phone, but you didn't buy into the lies like your father had. Even though you knew significantly more than he did, she still attempted to downplay the situation. She had done this numerous times since getting thrown into the vampire world, but she could only keep you in the dark for so long before you unraveled the truth.

You had to see her. Even if it was the last time. By fate, or at the hands of the pack. You had to be there for her, as she would you.

Leaving your imprint though? Was at task challenging at best. On at least four different occasions you fought with Paul for so long that Emily and Sam had to intervene, prying you two apart at the pleads of other pack members.

Emily would console you while you ranted and Sam would make Paul run off his anger in the woods. When you faced him again, it turned into a rerun of the same argument. Nobody in the house had gotten sleep, and the things were progressively getting worse.

Quil came through the door, widening his eyes.

"Just a heads up everyone, a little comedic relief does not go over well. I saw my life flash before Paul's eyes." He huffed before sitting down.

"When is this going to be overrrr?" Embry whined. He shoved his head in his hands on the kitchen table while you and Paul went at it in the front yard.

Emily sighed.

"Unfortunately sooner than you think....Y/N packed her suitcase this morning." She said quietly.

"You're not really going to let her go over there are you?!?" Kim stood up, looking at both Emily and Sam.

"If you would like to stop her, please, be my guest." Sam motioned his hand to outside, where you and Paul could be seen through the window. You were throwing your arms up and pointing fingers at him, while his voice boomed loudly, towering his large frame over yours.

Kim winced.

You had always been the calm to Paul's raging storm. 'Made him all soft' as the guys would tease. None of them had actually seen you two disagree with each other. In the mind link they saw glimpses of minor arguments, most of the time being reconciled in the sheets..

Paul eventually got an order by Sam to think about something else while on patrol. 'Literally, anything else'.

"She's not going anywhere. I can count on my hand how many times they've been apart since he imprinted. They'll work it out eventually." Jared said as he pulled Kim on his lap, taking a hunk out of his apple.

Kim didn't share a look that she believed him, worriedly looking out to where you stood.

A few moments passed when her body stiffened and she gasped, making Jared look where she was.

"SHIT! SHIT!" He said, throwing Kim off his lap.

Sam turned to look out the window in time to see Paul phase, his sharp claw making contact with your skin. Your blood curdling scream instantly had everyone else off their seats, nearly knocking each other over to race outside.

You laid on the ground as your body wracked with sobs, clutching your side. Blood gushed through your hand as you started to panic, scrambling to stand. The large silver wolf only stood for a few moments before Paul shifted back, completely horrified as he frantically tried to reach you.

He felt his heart nearly rip out of his chest as you backpedaled into Emily, who was helping to hold you upright.

"NO! NO! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME! IM DONE!" You cried.

Sam stood in the middle of the two of you.

Paul could feel his chest caving in, hand out, speaking more gently than he had at all in the past week.

"B-baby. Please. Please, I'm- I'm so sorry baby. Please let me just see-"

"NO! I'm done. I'm done. I'm leaving. I'm done." You repeated like a mantra, limping to the car.

"Y/N you cannot drive like this..." Emily attempted to say as she stepped in from behind you. She could see your anxiety was heightened, and afraid to set you off further.

"I have to go," you choked, on the verge of tears as you tried to open the drivers side. You had yet to even notice the gash in your side, adrenaline pumping wildly through your body.

Paul made his way around Sam, grabbing your other arm that was holding the door.

"You are crazy if you think I'm letting you leave like this. Please come-"

You yanked your arm from his grasp.

"Don't. Let me go!" You said coldly.

Paul froze. He couldn't move. You never spoke to him like this. Even in the numerous fights you two had this week.

Every single instinct in his body needed to help you. He knew you were downplaying your injuries. He knew he just royally fucked everything up. But the absolute last thing you could do was walk into a house full of vampires dripping in blood. Fucking doctor or not.

"Come inside and let me take a look at you, okay? Please." Emily said to coax you, frantically looking at your wound.

This made Sam follow her gaze, looking down to see the blood pouring from your side hadn't stopped, and you were growing paler by the minute.

"Y/N....you're going to stay here and I'll call Sue." He said in an authoritative voice, leaving no room to argue as he turned to start dialing the number.

You almost argued. You almost fought both of them on the subject. Your stubbornness almost won.

But you felt an immense pain. So strong you don't know how the hell you didn't notice it when you stood up.

That couldn't be good.

"....Y/N?" Paul said, barely above a whisper. Tears were now silently streaming down his face as he held both hands out slightly. Not close enough to touch you but to be prepared in case you fell.

You could feel yourself start to float in and out of consciousness. You tried to ground yourself by focusing on something. You looked at his hands that were outstretched.

Those hands that you held on your first date. The hands that hover your back anywhere you go. The hands that lift you up from the couch on movie nights to bring you to bed. The hands that move in just the right way when making love to you. The hands that were now shaking, not out of anger, but fear. You loved those hands.

"Y/N? Baby?" Paul said louder, more urgently as he could see you fading.

You watched him get blurry as the world started to spin.

"Paul," you murmured, before fading into darkness. The last thing you remember were the hands that caught you before you hit the ground.

"Y/N!!!" Paul screamed as he caught your body falling into him.

Sam ran back, telling him Sue was just up the street. He instructed Paul to carry you inside and onto the bed. The pack dispersed, each trying to find something to help you such as towels, an emergency kit and pillows.

Paul held you close as he lay you down, while repeatedly whispering in your ear.

"I'm so sorry baby. I'm so-so sorry. I cant lose you. Youre everything to me. I'll never yell at you again. I swear on my life. You can do whatever you want. I'll do whatever you want. Please, I love you." Paul pressed kisses to your hairline when Sue and her nurse friend entered.

Jared reluctantly came in behind them to lead Paul out of the room as they worked.

"Come on man, she'll wake up soon I promise."

After he was guided out, Paul slid down to sit on the other side of the door, refusing to move. Jared didn't push it, leaning down to sit next to him.

"Sue's seen this kind of stuff before. Just needs stitching up and stuff," Jared reassured as he put his hand on Paul's shoulder.

"It's not the injuries I'm worried about. So much as what she'll think of me when she wakes up. I....I fucked this one up, Jare."

"If Emily can forgive Sam, I think Y/N will forgive you. She's crazy about your ass."

Paul just nodded, praying he was right.

~

Your eyes fluttered open slowly as you woke. You looked around to see that you had been bandaged up along your left side, an IV attached to your arm sat close by. You attempted to sit up, whining when the pain wouldn't allow it. Within a few minutes Emily entered, her face showing relief.

"You're up! How are you feeling?" She checked the IV before sitting on the edge of the bed, careful of your body.

"Sore...where's, where's Paul?" Your heart ached as you started to replay what happened. There was no doubt in your mind what happened was an accident. You had seen the signs he always warned you about, and chose to ignore them in the heat of the argument. Not only that, but the look on his face when you had refused him was too much to bare.

Emily smiled, not expecting you to want to see him so soon.

"He's just outside the door. Hasn't moved. He didn't know if you'd want to see him..."

"I need to talk to him."

It hadn't even been a few seconds when Paul stood at the door. He looked more out of shape than you did. The disheveled hair and dark circles under his eyes told you he hadn't slept in days.

"I'll give you two some space. Just holler if you need anything," Emily spoke as she stood up, making her way around him and down the stairs.

Paul remained where he stood,

"If you don't want to be with me I understand. I have no words for my actions other than I am so...." he cleared his throat, trying not to cry. "So incredibly sorry I put you through this. I put you in danger when I was trying to keep you out of it. You don't have to stay I-"

"Paul please just kiss me." You interrupted, not wanting to hear the rest as you already made up your mind in forgiving him.

He stood for just a moment longer, trying to comprehend if he heard you correctly. It was when you weakly opened your arms for him that he wasted no time in rushing over to you, cupping your face and gently yet passionately kissed you with everything he had. Tears flowed his cheeks at the relief that you still wanted him. Even after everything he had put you through.

You two pulled back for air after a moment, and you ran your hand through his hair.

"I forgive you, okay? I can't imagine my life without you."

He let out a breath, smiling for the first time in weeks.

"It will never happen again. I swear on my fucking life baby." He caressed your hair, neck, landing his palm on your heart.

You two sat like that for awhile. Almost scared to leave each other's presence. You two talked for hours on the bed. Paul had confessed that the night before, while you were sleeping, the pack had fought with the Cullens. You learned that Paul refused to go, not wanting to leave your side. You were grateful to hear that Sam didn't push on him being there, knowing you were all that mattered to him, and he'd refuse him if he had too. Even if it went against his every instinct as a wolf. Turns out that Jacob had imprinted on your niece, and Bella had survived, now as a vampire.

You weren't particularly thrilled your sister was now a bloodsucker, but as long as she was alive, you were happy.

Paul eventually made his way to the other side of the bed, kissing every exposed inch of you, whispering all the things he loved about you in your ear until you fell asleep.

When your heartbeat slowed down and he was sure you were out, he reached down and felt the velvet box in his pocket. No doubt in his mind about the future you both held.

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Chapter 6, Fear and despair

Masterlist Word count: 2 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Author's note: Ya'll ready to cry?! Me neither... Also, for anyone wondering why I don't English so good sometimes. I am Dutch and nothing is proofread <3

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, alcohol, mentions of domestic abuse, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut. No graphic content. Mention of abuse.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊���

'You're not quite here with me.' You look up from the cup of tea you had been absentmindedly stirring since it was put in front of you. He's right. He's always right. Well... Most times. 

Your mind has been a mess. There's the whole Sylus thing, yes, that's something that takes up way too much space in your head. You keep thinking back to last Saturday, sitting on the couch with him watching the rise and fall of sexual tension. Seeing him try so hard to do small talk while pretending he wasn't looking at your lips and body like a man starved. He had kissed your forehead when he left and you leaned into it. Even thinking about it gives you butterflies. 

But there's another thing on your mind. A much more menial thing. Something much easier to discuss with Zayne. 

'How come I never heard you shower when you lived next door?' Zayne tilts his head, looking at you a little confused. 

'That's what you've been stuck on?' You reluctantly nod. It's stupid, so damn stupid, but Zayne still answers. 'When I moved out, Rafayel was talking about a new ventilation system. Maybe it connects to yours?' 

'That makes a lot of sense actually,' you groan, leaning back in your chair defeated. 'I can't believe I've been so busy thinking about that.' 

'You're an interior architect; shouldn't it be logical to you?' He's got a point and a very good one at that. You also could've just asked Rafayel, but no. You'd like to avoid that man as much as possible. He always tries to get you to do work for free, without even offering to lower you rent for a month or something. No way. 

You look around the coffee shop. This is you and Zayne's regular spot. The place is very big and open, but sound doesn't bounce around nor echo. There's tons of natural light and very kind yellow lights when the sun goes down. The furniture is a mix and match of secondhand stuff that's surprisingly pleasing to the eye and most chairs are comfortable. Then again, the chairs that aren't comfortable to you could be very comfortable to someone else. There are tons of plants scattered around, lots of cut vintage decor like old Matchbox cars and very old adverts on metal plates. On the floor are a few rugs that have almost worn into the floor and have major damage where people often walk. Almost looks like the rugs have crop circles. 

It might not be for everyone, even Zayne used to be a little uncomfortable here at first, but it's grown on both of you. The employees are kind and helpful, the music is always good and never too loud. It's a good atmosphere. 

'Anyway, how is the new neighbor?' Your cheek flush almost right away when you meet Zayne's eyes. 'What is it? Are you alright?' He leans over the table to touch your forehead, worried you might be sick. 

'I'm fine, I'm fine. His name is Sylus and he's hot- A LOT, he's a lot.' Zayne chuckles at your antics while you feel your ears burning. Not exactly the information you wanted to share with Zayne. Truly, it doesn't matter all that much in the end. He's like a brother to you and he knows nearly everything about your life. A fact that you wish was still true the other way around as well but he's been too busy to tell you everything. And now that you've dropped the "Sylus is hot" bomb, he's not letting it go until you tell him everything. 

For a professional, cold doctor he's surprisingly desperate for gossip. 

'I'm sure he's a lot,' he says with a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips, 'you were worried he might be loud. Is that the case?' 

'A bit. He's awake deep into the night, so sometimes I hear him moving around in his apartment or playing music late at night. It's nothing too bad though. Though Tara seems a bit cautious around him. Apparently, he's friends with her boyfriend.' A slight frown appears on Zayne's face. If you hadn't known him as long as you have, you wouldn't have noticed. But you do know him. 'What's that look for?' 

'Tara is dating that Kieran boy, right?' You nod and he tries to soften his face. 'Hm, I don't know them very well. It's probably not who I'm thinking of.' 

'Who are you thinking of?' And suddenly he looks real serious. The temperature inside is suddenly a few degrees lower and the bubble we were in feels like a soundproof chamber. 'Zayne, who are you think of?' 

'I wish I could tell you, but patient confidentiality forbids me.'  

“Patient confidentiality? What the hell? Is this even about Sylus?” 

Zayne reaches out for my hand on the table and gently takes it in his. 'Don't worry about it too much. I'm not even sure if it's the same guy.' 

'You're right,' you say, trying to smile as wide as you can while pushing the racing thoughts in your mind down. 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

"She has a boyfriend? Shit." Sylus tries to quicken his pace while he walks past the coffee shop before you see him, but he's too slow. You spot him and smile at him. A big smile, one that almost makes his cheeks hurt from looking at it. 

Wait... He's smiling back? 

No matter, he keeps walking. But then he catches the slightest glimpse of the man sitting with her and his blood runs cold. It's like a distant memory, or more like a distant nightmare. He can only hope and pray and doctor Zayne hasn't seen him. 

It's been years, but Sylus still fears the doctor might remember him. It wouldn't be too bad, the man saved his life, but he doesn't want you knowing. Not yet at least. What if he asked how his recovery is going? What if he asked if his scars healed okay? What if he asked if his situation has changed? How would he answer those questions and not revert back to that scared little boy she made him. 

Because all that still feels so raw, even though it's years ago. He should've been fine by now, at least that's what he thinks. Time heals all wounds, right? Three years should be enough. More than enough. 

That being said, his first doxing was her. She put his address out there as a last-ditch attempt to get him to "commit" to her. To make him obey like a fucking dog. 

He isn't even sure how all of it happened back then, but it did. Maybe it was just young love. Yeah, young love at 24. No, he was just naïve and stupid. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” 

What he does know is that he is nearly running home. He's stuck in his own head, tears prickling in his eyes. How does this keep happening at any mention, thought, or glimpse of her? It's not normal. He should be okay. 

It feels like he's picking up a fever as he unlocks the door to his apartment. He faintly hears the sound of his name but his chest is getting tight and he has to get inside. Why does this affect him so fucking much? 

And suddenly he recognizes what is going on. He's having a panic attack. 

He hasn't had a panic attack in the last two years. He's been fine, he should still be fine. Is it because he saw doctor Zayne again? Because he is with you? Because all he can think of when seeing doctor Zayne's face is how much pain he was in and how scared he was? 

“This is not fucking normal. Breathe Sylus, breathe. You know how to breathe. You've been doing it all your fucking life. Just stop panicking!” 

The voice in his head is no help. He slumps against the back of the couch in the middle of his living room, not able to make it to the bathroom to take a cold shower. Cold showers usually shock him out of it. His breathing stays rapid, his eyes looking for anything in reach that can help him but there are dark spots all over his vision. 

He closes his eyes for just a moment. Just a little bit. A second, no more. He wakes up with a few slaps to his cheek. His head feels cold against the wooden floor of his apartment. When did he fall over? 

'Sylus? Sylus? Look at me.' It's you. Your voice is desperate, scared, as you grab his shoulders and try to pull him upright again. He tries to help you, moving ever so slightly to a sitting position. Your hand raises up to his forehead, brushing the hair sticking to his sweaty skin away. 'Are you alright?' 

'Always with you around,' Sylus says, trying to look and sound like a womanizer, but failing miserably. To you, he just looks a bit loopy. His breathing is still ragged and strange. 

'Cute,' you note with a frown, 'now breathe with me.' You grab his hand and press it against your chest, just underneath your collarbone. 'Ready?' He nods. 'Breathe in.' He feels your chest rise slowly as you breathe in with him, your heard thumping under his hand in a steady, comforting rhythm.  

Slowly, the whole world disappears. His eyes are laser focused on yours, ears zeroed in on the sound of your voice and your breathing. To him, you look like an angel. His guardian angel. 

'Breathe out.' 

Your chest falls, he breathes out. It feels like seconds have passed but by the time you let go of his hand, the sun is setting. He last checked his phone around 16:30 before he saw you at the coffee shop, so that means it's close to six, it being wintertime. 

Finally lucid again, his heartbeat slowed, his breathing steady, he asks: 'Why did you follow me?' 

The coldness of his questions shocks you and you answer: 'I felt like you needed someone to be there for you.' 

He lets out a cold laugh, something that sounds close to disbelief but also much much closer to insecurity. A sound you hadn't expected coming from his mouth. He knows you think he's hot, he knows you are attracted to him, but he does not know you. He does not know about your youth, your struggle with panic attacks, your loneliness. But he doesn't need to know for you to be able to help him. 

If only he'd believe that you only want to help. 

'How do you know doctor Zayne?' There's something possessive in his tone, something you wouldn't have expected right now. 

'He used to live here before you. We're friends.' He stays quiet for a while, staring at you but not quite. More like he's looking through you, disassociating. 'I'm gonna get you a glass of water.' You move to your feet, but he grabs your wrist and holds you where you are. He's suddenly back, eyes watching you with immense focus. 

'Do you pity me?' The words sound like an accusation, like he's admitting he doesn't like what happened and that you "had" to see it. So much grief in those few words, a grief that goes much deeper than you can imagine. 

'Pity you?' 

He lets go of your wrist with an angry expression. He quickly gets up, refusing to look at you any longer. 'Never mind. I think it'd be better if you leave.' 

'What? Sylus-' You try to reach out for him, but when he looks back at you there's venom in his eyes. Your hand hangs in the air, halfway reaching towards his forearm. And then you drop it. 'Okay, if that's what you want.' 

He walks you to the door, his chest full of regret, embarrassment, shame. He was doing so damn well and now you've seen him like that. Like a shell, something defective, a bird with a broken wing. In the doorway you turn back to him so that he can't close the door on you. All he can see in your eyes in compassion, adoration and, strangely enough, love. 

'For what it's worth, I don't pity you. My opinions and feelings about you haven't changed,' you hesitate for a second and look down at the ground, 'and I hope you'll still ask me out. I do really want to get to know you. All of you.' 

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