#and really bad parents but that's not new

[kathleenkatmary]

This is really is not by any means new. When I was a kid in the 1990s and early 2000s, I thought my family was middle class because my parents said we were. It wasn't until I was in my 20s that I realizes we were 'lower class' and always had been. And talking to my parents helped me realize that their thought process around the thing was a messy melange that even they didn't really seem to understand. When we talked about things like how they accept money from the nuns at the school my mom taught at to be able to afford Christmas gifts for my and my brother more than once and there were times when we were in real danger of losing the house, there did seem to be a very real awareness that, no, this was not the experience of a middle class family.

But when I asked them why they always said and acted like they were middle class, I got a mishmash of explanations. The financial situation of my dad's family was much worse when he was a kid, so he figured anything better than that was a class upgrade, and while my mom's family's situation when she was a child was better than ours, she didn't see our situation as that much worse, so she just kind of saw it as being on the same level. We always had food on the table and we never "worried" about stuff like that, even though sometimes it meant taking charity from the people my mom worked with, so it didn't seem right to them to act like we were in the "same situation" as people who did have to regularly worry about food. They bought a house, however falling apart it was, so how could they be lower class? And there was a lot more of that, that sort of "well, we still had these necessities, even if we had to struggle for them, so we can't really put ourselves on the same level as people who did" mindset.

And I noticed that even though they didn't explicitly say it, there seemed to be a lot of shame associated with the idea of being lower class. Which I don't think would come to a surprise to anyone, especially for people who was around in the 1980s and 1990s. As much as that sentiment that poverty is a personal failing is still alive and well today, it was so prevalent back then. That idea that if you were poor, if you were lower class, it was entirely because of the decisions you made, your own failings. Can't pay your rent or mortgage? Well, what did you do wrong to put yourself in that position? Can't afford to keep your kids fed? God, you're such a bad parent, why don't you make better choices that put your kids first?

And I don't think that lumping in better off middle class people in with the upper class is new either. Resentment toward people with more has always been a thing. And when you do have so little and you are seeing things through that resentment, it can be really easy to look at someone who has so much more than you and not really see the distinction between them and someone who is truly wealthy.

This loose grasp of class definitions, people assuming themselves to be middle class when they're not, and not being able to see the distinctions in wealth is by no means a new thing that's only just starting to happen with the younger generations. It's always been around, I just think that the shape it's taken has shifted with the way the culture has shifted. But that sort of "I have a roof over my head and I can feed myself so I must be middle class" mindset and the "those people have a lot more than I do so they're just as bad as the billionaires who are actively ruining our lives" ideas aren't new at all. It at least goes back to the baby boomers, and really, considering the stark class divides of the early 20th century, I'd wager that it probably goes back even before them.

And that makes sense, because it's clearly proven to be an effective method of the ruling class.

Ive noticed recently that my generation has... no concept of what the various economic classes actually are anymore. I talk to my friends and they genuinely say things like "at least i can afford a middle class lifestyle with this job because i dont need a roommate for my one bedroom apartment" and its like... oughh

You guys, middle class doesnt mean "a stable enough rented roof over your head," it means "a house you bought, a nice car or two, the ability to support a family, and take days off and vacations every year with income to spare for retirement savings and rainy days." If all you have is a rented apartment without a roommate and a used car, you're lower class. That's lower class.

And i cant help but wonder if this is why you get kids on tumblr lumping in doctors and actors into their "eat the rich" rhetoric: economic amnesia has blinded you to what the class divides actually are. The real middle class lifestyle has become so unattainable within a system that relies upon its existence that theyve convinced you that those who can still reach it are the elites while your extreme couponing to afford your groceries is the new normal.

[donovankinard]

thinking about engaged bucktommy again. thinking about them talking about the Name Situation. buck says he wants to take kinard as his name, wants to feel like he's tommy's; not in a possessive way, but in a familial way. in an i'm tommy kinard's husband way, the way that's so blatantly obvious, the way that people will know what they are to each other as soon as he's introduced. so he can brag and show off his beautiful, brilliant husband to everyone he meets. and tommy just tells him, really quietly; "being a kinard isn't something to be proud of. it sure as hell isn't something i'm proud of."

but buck takes the name anyway, signs the piece of paper and gets his new drivers license and even a new turnout. he introduces himself with his full name everywhere they go just to make his point. says hi, i'm evan kinard, but people call me buck just for the sake of it, just to prove to tommy that it's not a bad thing. just to prove that his history, his parents, don't define the person he is.

and you know what? eventually, tommy starts to love being a kinard. if only because it makes his evan so happy. if only because mr & mr kinard rings out so nicely, and because seeing those letters on evan's uniform is so pleasant, and because anyone saying it makes buck all giddy and happy and tommy loves both of those things. if only for evan, tommy learns to love his name.

[glitter-stained]

I always feel like a little sad seeing posts about how Jason's character is inherently tragic and that's what makes it good, how him being unloved, a tragic consequence of his own actions, is inevitable, and how that shouldn't change because any change on that regard is a fundamental misunderstanding of his character. Yes, Under the Hood is a tragedy. Yes, Jason survived and for a long time people have been pretty confused at what to do with the character that survives the tragic ending. That doesn't mean he should continue to be trapped in the tragedy, that there's only value in him as long as he's unloved. And maybe that's me preaching and being a party pooper again but the idea that the teenage-to-young adult character with a mental illness that has damaged all his relationships is doomed to be lonely and have bad/upended relationships forever, that he's only good as a character as long as he's hurting others and/or himself (and usually both) and isolated because of this... It's sad, at the very least. I refuse the presumption that tragedies are the only stories wise and worth telling.

Also I personally really dislike the idea that Jason isn't and shouldn't be anyone's favourite, because he made himself nobody's favourite on purpose. Did he make himself a villain on purpose? Fuck yeah. Does any of his early attempts at reaching out to people hurt them? Indubitably. I maintain that this is because he wants to be someone's favourite as he is, at his worst, with his hands covered in blood. And I think he should be. (Without contradicting or damaging, by comparison, the relationships between other characters, that's the tightrope we need to be weary of when making such things, of course.)

It's like this: love, in most relationships, is conditional: you don't owe your friend or your partner to continue to love them if the relationship changes, if you change, if you become violent etc. If my girlfriend started murdering puppies, I would stop loving her. Ideally, however a parent's love for their child is unconditional. That's very often unfortunately not the case, but ideally it'd be, it's really not great for a kid to have zero parents that love them unconditionally. And most importantly, it's not just about actual unconditional love, it's about it being perceived. So it doesn't matter in the debate if Bruce actually loves Jason in spite of the murder, it matters that Jason asks for confirmation of it at the end of UTH and receives a negative answer. (similar arguments to be made about Catherine loving Jason and dying of drug overdose and Willis going to jail and dying - it's the potential perceived abandonment of it that would matter, not their agency and actual love. And it's not a question of whether he would be angry at it so much as that he'd yearn and hurt for it. And of course Sheila didn't love him at all.) That's why he, upon learning about Mia and reaching previously unknown to man levels of projection*, tries to rally her with the hope that, because she's "so similar to him" she would understand him. That's why upon learning about Dick "killing" Blockbuster Jason, again projecting more violently than a bullet, Jason makes Dick into his new favourite person (god, the concept behind BiB has so much potential why did it have to suck so bad...) Anyway, Jason to me is a character with a very intense, very overwhelming conception of love both in who he loves and how, who struggles to understand that other people love and show it differently, and it makes so much sense for him to keep looking for a person who will love him unconditionally (something that's both very rare and not necessarily healthy since, again, most relationships aside from parent-child relationships do not and probably should not include unconditional love). This is particularly interesting in the context of him having bpd (again, using bpd because i'm focusing on the interpersonal dimension that's been mostly studied within that frame) because BPD often functions around a vicious circle of "is afraid of rejection/abandonment -> does maladaptive behaviour in attempt to prevent rejection/abandonment OR protect oneself by being the one to leave first" which is what leads to the instability in relationships. It's a doomed prophecy: i have maladaptive patterns that make me think my girlfriend is gonna leave me at any time, I keep demanding to see her phone, assuming she's cheating everytime she leaves and thus demonizing her even though I was glorifying her five minutes earlier" then she's going to leave me, which is gonna reinforce my thought pattern that everyone always leaves me. But that also means that in rare instances in which the other person in the interact, for whichever reason, sticks around through that, then these incorrect thought patterns begin to change through the sheet logic of extinction: if i think that people always leave me because of something fundamentally wrong with me and people don't leave then eventually the idea that people are doomed to abandon/reject me is going to lose its power. That's, btw, an important part of why therapy works.

(*that one's a joke, btw. He's not projecting onto mia and dick to levels impossible to mankind, just pretty intensely. Very human levels of projection, might I add'. Just to clarify.)

Now, be mindful: I'm not saying make Jason an abusive boyfriend. I'm not saying put him in a relationship where the other stays because they're afraid of him, that's not unconditional love or acceptance that's just fear. Of course, the ideal version of it would be Jason goes to therapy but because dc hates me specifically this is never gonna happen, but imagine him being in a relationship, romantic or otherwise, with someone who is as intense and "unwell" about him as he is about them. I'm not saying it would fix him (again, get him so goddamn therapy jfc) but it would change him. And just as it doesn't have to be healthy it doesn't have to be tragic.

I was asked a while ago my thoughts on Jason's current stagnancy as a character and if I thought he could become interesting again, and I said yes and talked about the directions I dream would be explored with his character and their potential. My answer hasn't changed, and it's completely compatible with this, but I will add: I think Jason as a character has largely and for long enough been defined through his yearning to be somebody's favourite, and that if you want his mode of interacting with others and dynamic with different characters to change then this is a very logical way to do it. And it would make a lot of sense for it to be the catalyst for other changes in his character (ie in his name or philosophy).

Get that boy into a super intense long-term codependent situationship, is what I'm saying. Please.

[4milly]

girl u are FREKAYYYYY. what's life like with bd!zilla? 🙄🙄🙄🙄

i really do imagine he's the type to be so nonchalant about shit tbh. like when you two decided to co-parent your 3 year old son, from that day forth zilla's always put on this act that he never cared about shit you did. you both were single.

nothing new. he did the in the relationship. act like nothing ever mattered. you'd do things to spite him to atleast see if he cared. like doing your hair a different way when you'd drop your son off, wearing a dress too short and posting it to the gram, even sending him thirst traps on "accident".

only to get a dry ass response. barely even that, sometimes he’d just heart the message and move on.

but nothing ever seemed to phase him. you'd catch glimpses sometimes - a fleeting look in his eyes when he thought you weren't paying attention, the way his jaw would tighten ever so slightly when another man's name came up. but he'd always brush it off, act like it was nothing.

one day, you decided to really push it. you showed up to drop off your son wearing that slinky red dress he always loved, the one that hugged every curve. you made sure your makeup was flawless, your hair perfectly curled. as you handed over your giggling toddler, you casually mentioned the date you had lined up for that night.

little did he know, you didn't even have one. you purposely did all this shit so his blood pressure would raise.

for a split second, you saw it - that flash of jealousy, that hint of possessiveness in his dark eyes. but just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual cool indifference. "have fun, babygirl," he said with a wink before focusing on your son

"mama, look pretty?" your son said gleaming towards you

"she does, buddy. so very pretty." he simply stated giving you a once over, stopping at your cleavage.

you felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, at the way his eyes lingered on your body. for a moment, you forgot to breathe. then you caught yourself, plastering on a coy smile. "thanks," you said breezily, "i'm sure my date will think so too."

as you turned to head back to your car , you could feel zilla's eyes on you, burning into your back. you put an extra sway in your hips, knowing exactly how that dress moved when you walked. you heard your son's laughter fade as the door closed behind you.

later that night, after your mediocre date with some guy whose name you could barely remember, you found yourself scrolling through your phone in the bathroom. your thumb hovered over zilla's contact. before you could stop yourself, you fired off a text: "date was a bust. heading home early."

you stared at your phone, waiting for his reply. the minutes that went by were agonizing. just as you were about to toss your phone in your purse, it buzzed.

u wanna come over, mama?

you knew this was a bad idea. you only wanted to spite him — show him you still had it and what he lost. but...damn, you'd be lying if you said you didn't crave to feel that long, girth, samoan dick working inside you, and those hands using your hips bouncing you like a bitch in heat, just like an addict craves their next fix. nonetheless, you responded anyways: be there in 15.

the ride to his place felt endless. second-guessing your decision with every passing streetlight. but when you knocked on the door and saw him standing in the doorway, all doubts vanished. He looked good - too good. his white tank top clung to his muscular frame, and his sweatpants hung low on his hips.

"hey, mama," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "come in."

you stepped inside, the familiar scent of his cologne washing over you. the living room was dimly lit. as you stepped inside, the familiar scent of his cologne washing over you, you felt a surge of electricity in the air. the living room was dimly lit, casting long shadows across the walls. soft music played in the background - was that the playlist you used to make love to? baby making music as they say.

zilla closed the door behind you, his presence looming large. you could feel the heat radiating off his body as he moved closer, his scent suffocating you. "you want sum' to drink?" he asked, his voice husky.

you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. as he walked to the kitchen, your eyes followed the broad expanse of his back, remembering how it felt to dig your nails into those muscles.

He returned with two glasses of red wine - your favorite. As he handed you yours, his fingers brushed against yours, lingering just a moment too long. you took a sip, the rich flavor exploding on your tongue.

you closed your eyes for a brief moment as you glanced over the room, "so where is our little guy?" desperate to break the silence.

zilla almost didn't hear the question, to occupied in looking at your ass in the dress.

"zilla?" you said more firmly to bring his attention back towards you

"my bad, mama. we watched that paw patrol shit he like and he crashed out not too long ago," he responded before taking a sip of his wine "you look good as fuck, y'know that?"

you felt a flush creep up your neck at his words. "thanks," you murmured, taking another sip of wine to steady your nerves.

zilla moved closer, his eyes roaming over you hungrily. "you r'member first time you wore it?" his voice was low, tinged with desire. "that night at the club, when I couldn't keep my hands off you. had to take yo ass home right then."

you nodded, memories flooding back. the way he'd pressed you against the wall as soon as you got through the door, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing the dress higher, pushing his hand into your panties.

before you could respond, zilla closed the distance between you, his large hand cupping your face. "lemme r'mind you," he growled, before crashing his lips against yours. the kiss was hungry, desperate, filled with years of pent-up longing.

in one fluid motion, he lifted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. he carried you to the wall, pressing you against it as his lips trailed hot kisses down your neck. your head fell back, a soft moans escaping your lips.

"god, you so fuckin' pretty," he murmured against your skin, his hands roaming your body, reacquainting themselves with every curve. he hitched your dress up higher, his fingers tracing the edge of your lace panties. "these in the way, mama."

with a swift movement, he pushed your panties to the side exposing your wet core, "shit, i missed this pussy. she missed daddy, baby?"

zilla's fingers were replaced by his hard length, rubbing against you. you didn't remember when he got the time to take his dick out his pants, but thank the stars above. you finally were about to get what you've nearly been wishing for and more, "fuck me, zilla. i missed you so much."

he slid into you, filling you up in one long stroke. your eyes rolled back as your body stretched to accommodate him. it had been too long since you'd felt him this way, inside you, claiming you as his own. the way his dick filled you perfectly made your mind go numb. you wrapped an arm around his neck bringing his lips to your owns. you let out a strangled whine as began to stroke, your pussy still getting used to the filling of being so full again.

he started moving slowly, dragging his hips back until you were nearly empty before filling you back up letting you adjust, and repeating the process until the coarse hair at the base of his cock tickled your clit.

"zilla!" you yelped as a particular thrust made him swipe over that special spot inside of you

"shh, shh don't wake him up, mama." he replied throwing a hand over your mouth to keep you moans at bay — careful not to wake your sleeping boy down the hall. "so fuckin' pretty just taking all this dick. I should nut all up in yo pretty ass.”

your moans and screams were muffled into zilla's hand. your eyes rolling towards the back of your head. you were in complete bliss right now. zilla's hips moved with a primal rhythm, each thrust driving you higher up the wall. your dress bunched around your waist, the silky fabric sliding against your skin with every movement. your panties, pushed hastily to the side, were soaked with your arousal — same as the floor beneath you. zilla's thickness stretched and filled you completely, your walls clenching around him, trying to draw him even deeper.

"that's it, mama," he panted, his hips pounding you against the wall. "take this dick. show me how much you missed it."

you arched your back, pressing your chest against his as you sought more friction. zilla's free hand slid down to grip your ass, kneading the flesh as he lifted you slightly, changing the angle. the new position had him hitting your g-spot with every stroke, and you saw stars behind your closed eyelids. you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back, urging him on. your nails raked down his muscular back, leaving small rips in his tank top. zilla dipped his head, trailing hot kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of your breasts.

your breath hitched as your belly started to tighten around his dick. zilla let out a quiet menacing chuckle into your ear, "wassup baby? you wanna cum? keep wettin' this dick up. make that shit spit fa me."

tears pricked your eyes as you shut them tightly. the pressure built up in your stomach and cum dripped down your legs — unable to store all of it in your pussy with his dick pummeling inside of you. zilla groaned, feeling your walls clench around him. "that's it, baby," he praised, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release. "fuck, I'm gonna cum. want me to fill you up, mama?"

your eyes were crossed and your head was spent, only focusing on the feeling of cumming all over him and the pleasure radiating through your body.

he let out a groan as he released every drop of his cum into you without thinking twice. his hips stuttering as he followed you over the edge. he gripped your ass, his hips bucking upwards, emptying ropes of his cum deep inside of you—filling you to the brim with his seed. some of it running down his dick, to his legs, and onto the floor. It felt too good to pull out and he wasn’t going to.

as you both came down from your high, zilla slowly removed his hand from your mouth, replacing it with a tender kiss on your bottom lip as you continued to shake and twitch in his arms. the feeling of his warm cum so deep inside you, triggering another mini orgasm. your body continued to convulse as every nerve ending in your body exploded, "yo ass happy you finally got some dick?"

❦:

@caramelcleopatraa @harmshake @msbigredmachine @luvrsluxe @uceyliyahh @angiedawn02 @amandairene88 @cyberdejos2 @queeny23 @empressdede @trentybenty @heauxvibez @whatdoeseverybodywant @shes2real @romansthrone @acknowledge-reigns @southerngirl41 @prettyfilmz @jaza23

don’t forget to like and reblog! <3 drop a comment also! i love reading those. xoxo, cleo.

(think i might make this a series tbh.)

[kittyfrisk9]

The soup - Idea DpxDc

Note: I don't know English, please use Google Translate. Sorry for the bad translation.

Dead On Main - Danny having an eating disorder, and Jason being a cute boyfriend.

---

He's breathing deeply, trying to forget the fever that torments his body. Heat and discomfort do their thing, and Danny writhes on the couch that serves as his replacement for a bed. He has no energy to go to his room, nor does he want to move. His head pounds, each pain makes him dizzy, and the burning sensation on his skin doesn't stop. The fever consumes him, and with it, the helplessness of not being able to use his powers to relieve himself.

He grips the blanket tightly, that piece of cheap fabric he bought at a third-rate store, so thin that it barely keeps him warm. He curls up in it, but the warmth of the fabric doesn't manage to take away the pain that runs through his body, nor the emptiness that hurts in his stomach. Each shiver makes him feel weaker, more disconnected from himself. His gaze slides toward the kitchen, toward the plastic bag of instant food he bought a few hours ago.

“Maybe I should eat…” he thinks, but the thought disappears as quickly as it came. Just looking at that food disgusts him. At some point in his teenage years, food started to taste bad, like every bite turned into a tasteless mass that he couldn’t swallow. He suspects it’s some psychological shit, some trauma that his parents are responsible for, but he doesn’t want to think about it now. He doesn’t have the strength to face it.

With a sigh, he turns around, determined to at least get rid of that annoying headache. He reaches for the small table next to the couch, where he left the bottle of painkillers, but stops when he notices something strange. Why is he so light? He frowns, sure he bought it yesterday. He shakes his head, exhausted. It doesn’t matter, he just needs something to relieve himself.

Without thinking much, he takes a couple of pills and drinks from the bottle of water he left nearby. He barely feels the pills go down his throat, a disgusting taste filling his mouth, as bitter as the food he can no longer stomach. He grimaces in disgust, but then… something is wrong.

A stabbing pain shoots through his stomach, like an invisible blade is ripping him apart from the inside. He instinctively doubles over, his hands gripping his abdomen tightly as he feels the tremors. His stomach makes low but intense sounds. Panic mixes with discomfort, and when he feels the liquid rise up his throat, he knows it’s too late.

He leans forward, covering his mouth with one hand as the contents of his stomach rush out. It’s not much, just bile and water, but the burning in his throat and the smell make him shudder. The vomit hits the floor, a mess that only adds more weight to his exhaustion.

Danny stands there, panting, cold sweat sticking to his forehead. The nausea persists, but something else worries him. His eyes focus on the empty bottle that had at some point fallen to the floor.

"How many pills did I take?"

The realization hits him like a brick, followed by a deep sigh filled with frustration. Shit. He's going to have to clean this up. It's not like he has the energy, but there's no one else to do it.

Oh, he's crying, he wants Jason by his side

...

Something is wrong. Very wrong. Extremely wrong.

Jason couldn't ignore it, that nagging uneasiness that made his stomach turn. He'd had a rough few weeks, he knew. More work than usual, more chaos in his territory. The appearance of a new drug—powerful, dangerous, and all too easy to get—had forced him to be everywhere at once. His body was exhausted, and his mind, even more so.

But that wasn't what was keeping him on his toes. No, what really had him worried was Danny.

His boyfriend. That word always brought a small smile to his face, even now, when everything inside him told him something was wrong. He shook his head, trying to focus on something else, but worry was a tight knot in his chest.

He looks up at the sky as he walks across the rooftops. The night in Gotham is especially ugly: thick clouds cover the moon, and the lack of stars makes everything seem even more oppressive. A bad sign.

Yesterday, Danny had been mugged. He could still hear the casual tone Danny told him in, like it hadn't been a big deal. But to Jason, it was something. He'd dealt with the guy, sure, but now he wished he'd hit him harder. He should have been there sooner, should have protected him. And now, Danny hadn't gotten in touch all day. Not one call, not one text. That wasn't normal.

Jason clenches his fists, frustration and fear mixing like an explosive cocktail. He didn't have time for this, but he couldn't ignore it either. Something inside him told him he had to move, that he couldn't just stand there waiting for answers.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but instead he makes a decision. With a quick movement, he throws out his grappling hook and begins to jump from one roof to another, faster than usual.

"Patrol can wait." His voice, barely a whisper, is laden with determination. First, he had to make sure Danny was okay. Everything else could wait.

Before long, Jason was outside Danny's apartment. The building was quiet, and the apartment windows were dark, not a single light on. Danny might be sleeping, but Jason didn't trust it. He needed to see him, to make sure with his own eyes that everything was okay.

Without hesitation, he slipped through the window, moving with the ease and stealth that came with years of practice. But what he saw upon entering left him cold.

Danny was on the floor, kneeling, wiping something down with a rag. His body was shaking slightly, and Jason immediately noticed how pale he was. Too pale. The fever was evident on his face, in the sweat that glistened in the dim light coming in from outside. But what caught his attention the most was the smell.

Jason looked away, and what he found made his hands clench into fists automatically. There was vomit on the floor. The acrid smell hit him hard, but it was the sight of Danny, weak and barely able to stand as he tried to clean up, that really ignited his fury.

Why the hell didn’t you call me? he wanted to scream at him, but the words were caught in his throat, choked by a mix of worry and rage. The reminder that he was Red Hodd right now and not Jason Todd hit him hard.

Danny stopped suddenly, noticing the presence of someone else in the room. He slowly turned his head, and his bright eyes—probably from the fever—fixated on Jason. There was confusion on his face.

“Hood?” he murmured, his voice hoarse and weak.

“Hey,” Hood greeted as he approached him, his voice deep and distorted by the helmet.

Danny let out a small laugh, though it was weak, and turned his head toward him, noticing his presence at last. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his mind still clouded by fever and disorientation.

“I was just passing by and came to take a look,” Jason replied with a smile hidden beneath his mask. He crouched down beside him, effortlessly taking the rag from Danny’s hand. “Why are you doing this?”

Danny, with no strength to fight, simply shrugged, the dizziness almost impossible to ignore. “The smell is disgusting.”

Jason didn’t answer right away, but he watched as Danny offered no resistance, his condition evidently more serious than he was trying to let on.

“Thanks for yesterday, by the way… you saved me, haha,” Danny said, forcing a tired smile. Danny’s laughter, even though he could barely stand upright, gave Jason’s stomach an uncomfortable twist. Danny’s eyes, disoriented and slightly glassy, ​​didn’t help matters.

Jason frowned as he noticed a purplish bruise beneath his eye. The mark was horrible, much worse than Danny was trying to let on. Anger grew in his chest, even more so as he saw how his boyfriend looked so… fragile. Why the hell didn’t I protect him better? He thought, gritting his teeth. Anger burned within him. To hell with hitting the guy harder, he should have killed him.

“Go get some rest,” he said, his tone brooking no argument.

Danny laughed softly, but it was more of a tired exhale than anything else. “I have to clean up.”

“I’ll do it,” Jason replied firmly. Danny’s response was a low snort, a trace of humor that seemed to fade quickly.

“Will you?” Danny laughed again, though harder this time, exhaustion still fighting to dampen his mood. “If your rogues knew I had you cleaning up my vomit, you’d be the laughing stock of Gotham.”

Jason gave him a steady look, not losing his composure. “It’s a reasonable price to pay for your rest.”

“I’m flattered,” Danny replied with a tired smile, and walked over to the couch, slumping down onto the cushion as if his body was about to collapse. He closed his eyes, trying to rest, but the pain coursing through him wouldn’t let him find relief. Every muscle in his body seemed to protest, and every time he moved, the pain intensified.

He groaned silently, gritting his teeth.

Jason watched him from the corner of his eye, still crouched in front of him. The concern did not disappear from his face, and his gaze remained fixed on Danny. It was obvious that something was not right.

“Why are you like this?” he asked again, this time with a more serious tone.

Danny did not open his eyes immediately, but his lips formed a slight grimace. “What?” he said, barely able to comprehend the question.

“Don’t you have anyone to take care of you?” Jason continued, the question laden with a hint of frustration. “If you’re that bad, you should have called someone.” Me, for example.

He thought about the last part silently.

Danny blinked twice and, after a while, opened his eyes to look at him. The doubt was palpable in his expression, and Jason couldn’t help but notice how much that simple look hurt him.

“I don’t have anyone…” Danny muttered, and for a moment, the sadness in his voice was all too evident. Then, as if trying to make the matter less serious, he corrected himself, “Well, I have my boyfriend, but he’s really busy with his job lately. I don’t want to bother him.”

Guilt hit Jason. “If you think that, he seems like a bad boyfriend,” he said, ducking his head, Danny’s words really getting to him.

Danny, barely lifting his leg, gave it a light smack. “Don’t say that about my boyfriend,” he said, somewhat annoyed, but with a weak smile on his face. “He works really hard at… whatever it is he works at.” He muttered, as if trying to defend him, but then added, more to himself than to Jason: “Old guys, his boss must be exploiting him.”

Jason couldn’t help but smile guiltily. Even in this state, Danny was still defending him, no matter how bad he felt. It was a sweet gesture, but it also made his chest tight to know that Danny was going through this alone.

Without thinking, he stood up suddenly, and with a quick, fluid movement, he lifted Danny into his arms princess-style. Danny, obviously surprised, let out a small cry of surprise.

“Hey!” Danny whined, as if he was about to protest, but Red Hood already had him well in hand.

“I’m going to take you to your room. You need to rest,” Hood said, not hesitating for a second. When Danny tried to protest, a strange sound, a rumbling from his stomach, interrupted them. Jason heard it clearly, and his face softened in understanding. “I’ll make you something light first. And you better eat it.”

Danny looked at him, a little confused but resigned. “You’re not giving me a choice, are you?”

“Nope,” Red Hood replied firmly, his tone almost amused now, as if it were a matter of fact.

...

Having a crime lord as a personal servant was not something Danny had expected for that night, but if he was to be honest with himself, he had to admit that it made him feel better. In an awkward and embarrassing way, Red Hood helped him change his clothes, brought him his phone, and even gave him water. Danny was sure that if he hadn't stopped him, Hood would have insisted on giving him a bath and even changing the sheets on his bed.

All this time, Danny tried to find the right moment to tell him something important: he couldn't stand eating other people's food. However, he didn't find the opportunity, and now he found himself in an even more awkward situation.

Red Hood, of course, was in his kitchen, making soup. Danny watched from the doorway, frowning.

Ah, what a waste, he thought, watching Hood move confidently around the kitchen. No matter how much he wanted to avoid it, his usual little eating problem was still a pain in the neck.

And then he remembered the anti-hero's words: “You should have called someone.” Danny let out a small laugh, true enough. In retrospect, even if Jason was busy, he would have come running if Danny had asked him for help.

Because Jason loves him. Maybe it's because his ghost half makes him more sensitive, but Danny can really feel it. Not just in his words, but in every action, every gesture. He knows that Jason loves him in a way that is deep and sincere, and that's why he can only eat what he prepares for him. Because he trusts him, more than anyone, and he knows that Jason would never hurt him. Unlike his parents.

Lying on his bed, Danny let out a low laugh and reached for his phone. What a fool I am, he thought as he began to type.

Danny: Are you busy? Please come. I'm kind of sick here and I really will turn into a ghost.

Just as he pressed "send," he saw Red Hood walk in, holding a tray with what looked like a bowl of soup and a hot lemonade. Danny frowned, curious. Where had he found the ingredients to make all that?

A smile appeared on his face as he looked at the tray. He figured it was too late to say anything now. He might as well eat some, pretend to like it, and thank him.

"I didn't expect the great crime lord, Red Hood, to know how to cook," Danny commented, smiling as he sat on the bed, looking at the tray curiously.

"I have some hidden talents," Hood replied, placing the tray carefully on Danny's legs.

Danny couldn't help but laugh. "Like sneaking into other people's apartments and spying?"

"Aside from that," Red Hood said without losing his composure, as if the insinuation didn't affect him in the slightest. "I've been your Prince Charming twice, you should be grateful." He shook his head slightly, motioning for Danny to eat.

Danny looked at the plate, mentally prepared to pretend to like it. "Eh, I'm grateful, your majesty, but sadly this young lady already has a prince." He played along as he brought the spoon of soup to his mouth.

Red Hood laughed, raising his hands in surrender. "I understand, I guess this gentleman's heart has been broken," he said in a dramatic tone, feigning sadness. He expected Danny to continue playing along, but Danny stood completely still. "Danny?" He asked, now visibly worried.

Danny was in shock. This taste… He took another spoonful of soup, then another, and another. Without thinking, he grabbed the plate and drank it all, then did the same with the lemonade. This taste, this delicious taste. It couldn't be anyone else but…

"Dan—" But he was interrupted.

"Jason, when were you going to tell me you were Red Hood?" Danny looked straight at him, not angry, but shocked.

His eating problem, that little big problem he'd had since his teens, instantly recognized that this taste could only belong to Jason.

Jason, on the other hand, wondered how his boyfriend recognized him.

---

Note: I don't know English, please use Google Translate. Sorry for the bad translation.

They are two men in love, your honor.

[starlessea]

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙏𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙈𝙚𝙣𝙙 [𝘿𝙖𝙧𝙮𝙡 𝘿𝙞𝙭𝙤𝙣 𝙓 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧]

Chapter 2: Wide-Eyed

Series Masterlist: The Ties That Mend

Summary: Three-hundred-and-ninety-six days after the outbreak, you are discovered in an abandoned community college, covered in filth and barely able to speak a word. Despite the showers (multiple) and rehabilitation attempts (also multiple), it's apparent that your mind is elsewhere. Beyond saving.

This new world is chaos, but you're lucky to find good people in it. More so than any is a man named Daryl, patient enough to let you put yourself back together—one stitch at a time.

Daryl had seen eyes like that only a few times before.

The first, he’d been seven-years-old, roaming the streets of Northern Georgia with his no-good brother. Their parents never did care a rat’s ass about where they ended up, and this time, they’d found themselves in the bad part of town. The epicentre of trouble. 

Merle had been hanging around some older boys back then, the type who got off on taunting his kid brother. Sneak up on the local kook, they’d told him. It’d be funny; he’d be a chicken if he didn’t. So Daryl—filled with a newfound sense of bravado—agreed, and dumped his can of orange Crush over some man too cracked out to notice.

Until he did.

The way the guy’s eyes popped open—bloodshot, bulging—was burned into Daryl’s memory. Even now, thirty-some years later, he could recount them in astounding detail. They were the same shell-shocked eyes as those nasty bastards his daddy used to hang about. The ones hardened by their daddies and so on. 

They were eyes Daryl saw far more often these days. Came across them in the fleeting glances of their ragtag community—from the stragglers of Woodberry to the drifters that had no place else in the world. After a few weeks of decent meals, sleep, and a safe place to shit, most of them lost that look. Replaced it with all sorts of stuff he didn’t really care for.

But most recently, Daryl had found it again, stamped onto the face of Glenn’s newest rescue. Whilst he’d pitied you at first, shaking like a newborn gazelle on Carol’s arm, that pity quickly morphed into something colder.

Catching your eyes, Daryl suddenly felt seven-years-old again. It wasn’t a passing thing, that look, nor did it mask something deeper. It was simply a fixture of your face. The result of whatever shit storm you’d endured.

Even with all the time in the world, Daryl wasn’t sure you’d ever shake it.

“Man, I’m telling you. Shit felt like The Shining—” 

A voice drags Daryl back into the room. Around him, a group had gathered in their usual corner, chairs pulled together in a circle. Bob has the floor, soaking in the attention as he recounts an abridged version of the day’s events. 

He’s new, too, and Daryl hadn’t taken to him yet. 

“—Glenn will tell you. Suddenly, she’s staring at us with those big bug eyes,” Bob goes on, bringing his pointer fingers to his face. “Kept getting wider by the second.”

Across from him, Glenn shifts uncomfortably. “It wasn’t that bad,” he retorts. “She’s not deranged just because she doesn't blink much.”

Daryl feels himself scowl. He’s got his back against the stone, arms crossed as he watches the exchange. He doesn’t usually involve himself in these little powwows, but something about this one is wearing his patience thin.

“Fifteen times,” he gruffs. Eyes turn to him as he pushes off the wall. “Tha’s how much most folks blink in a minute—fifteen.” 

Daryl moves in closer, stopping just short of the circle before shaking his head. “She blinked once in three.”

The chatter is replaced by silence, thick and uneasy.

“I’ve seen people like that,” Bob says after a moment. His voice is more subdued now, like he's been grounded back to that floor and not the pedestal he'd been put on. “Usually, it’s on their way back from war.”

The words hit hard. For once, Daryl finds himself agreeing. There was something about you, something off that made him feel like a kid again, standing in the shadow of a stranger’s unpredictability. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Wha’ever shit went down there,” he says, “ya can bet yer ass it weren’t pretty.”

“It wasn’t,” Glenn confirms.

His tone leaves no room for elaboration. 

At the other side of the room, Rick, who—like Daryl—had been doing his utmost to not get involved, straightens. “Glenn, brother,” he starts, “I know you mean well, but do you think she’s—” 

Rick doesn’t say it, but Daryl can hear it in the silence. They all can.

Beyond saving.

Carol clears her throat. “A bit of a feral cat,” she adds, after a beat. 

It’s a poor attempt to lighten the mood; no one laughs. Least amused is Glenn, who rakes a hand through his hair before letting out a hefty sigh. “What was I meant to do, just leave her there?” 

He doesn’t aim the question, but the lack of response only urges him on.

“You didn’t see it—that place was hell.” His voice tightens, the day’s frustrations bleeding through. “Not everyone’s lucky enough to have someone to pull them out of it. That could’ve been me, or you, or any one of us.”

The group slinks back as Glenn gestures around, trying not to let themselves land at the end of his pointer finger. 

Michonne—who’s been sitting quietly at the edge of the group until now—finally speaks. “Give her time,” she says simply. Her words are directed at no one in particular, but carry the kind of weight that can’t be disputed.

Daryl glances at her, and for a brief moment, their eyes meet. 

He’s come to appreciate Michonne; her short replies made life easier in the months they’d spent tracking the Governor. She never wasted breath on stuff that didn’t matter.

She has a point now, too. You hadn’t been here long—a couple hours at most. Hell, Daryl had taken longer naps. And it’s not like you were going anywhere. Not on those weak knees. 

For the time being, Cell Block D was the best place for you. It was the only one still needing repairs, a little dingy and a whole lot of space, which worked out fine. You likely wouldn’t cope well in the ones filled with people.

That’s why Daryl slept in Block D, too.

In the minutes that follow, an air of deliberation settles over the group. It’s an uncomfortable sort of quiet, with everyone seeming to retreat into their own thoughts. Daryl considers leaving; he’s got plenty to be getting on with. In truth, he’s not sure how he ended up here in the first place. But before he can make it across the room, he crosses paths with Maggie, coming in like a storm through the main entrance.

She looks dishevelled: her shoulders rounded and tiredness evident in the contours of her face. Sidestepping Daryl, she picks out Rick in the crowd. She shakes her head at him. “That pregnant lady in Block E is having trouble again,” she says, “My daddy’s gonna keep an eye on her tonight. Beth too.”

She takes a moment to flatten her hair, willing the stray strands into submission.

“They’ll come see the new girl in the morning,” she explains. Then, with a sidelong glance toward Glenn, asks, “What’d you call her again—loony bin?”

Glenn cringes. He reiterates your name, which he’d likely pried from you earlier in the truck. 

The sound of it takes Daryl by surprise. It’s a pretty name—one he’d never pin to you. He almost wonders if hearing it can give him a glimpse into your past, at the person you used to be. But then again, not everyone suits their name. Perhaps you never had.

“Well…” says Rick, more decisive now, “let’s get ‘er to eat in the meantime.” He stands to dust off his jeans. “Or clean up.”

There’s a collective murmur of agreement, and almost immediately, the group starts to disperse. Daryl’s first to move, but Carol catches his arm before he can make it out the door.

He throws an annoyed glance back at her.

There's an apron tied around her waist; Michonne had brought it back from some tacky gift shop they’d raided not long ago. The fabric was already stained—the pattern made dull from hard work. Carol was on cooking duty again; Daryl knew because he unintentionally looked forward to those days. 

“Any chance you could get something for her?” she asks, gesturing to the crossbow over his back. “Fresh?”

There’s hesitation in her voice, her lips pressed together like she’s bracing for something.

Daryl raises an eyebrow. “Sure. Ya want ribeye or sirloin?”

Carol bats him lightly across the shoulder. Then she offers him a small smile—one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. 

Daryl dislikes it.

“She’s just so skinny,” she eventually says. That teasing tone he’d grown to expect is gone now, replaced by something more serious. “I lifted her, and—well, it was like lifting Sophia.”

The name lands like a stone. Daryl stills, his jaw setting. 

“I’ll find something,” he mutters.

Carol nods, sending him off with a small ‘thank you’. 

Daryl readies his crossbow and hunting gear before heading out into the yard. It’s bustling, as it always is these days—children weaving around him, adults trying to strike up conversation. He shuts them down with a look that says he could care less for chit-chat right now. There’s too many of them for him to handle.

Already got another damn mouth to feed.

He has half a mind to turn around, but Carol’s words propel him forward, clinging to the back of his mind like burrs.

He'll find something.

—

The cropped-haired woman comes to collect you at dinner. 

She tells you her name is Carol, and that she has something special prepared for you. Her tone is light, airing on excitement as she helps you along the metal catwalk and down the stairs. It’s an easy, practiced motion—her arm brushing against yours. But with each stroke, you feel it: that itch in your chest. 

You’ve never been fond of surprises. In fact, you hated them. The uncertainty, the lack of control, the unfamiliarity of this place… Every step tightens the grip around your lungs.

Breathe, you remind yourself. In. Out.

Carol notices the shift in your demeanor, must feel it in the stiffness of your shoulders. So she opts for distraction. As the two of you walk arm-in-arm, she attempts to fill the space between you with reassurance—even if it doesn’t quite reach you. 

She details life at the prison—everything they’ve worked towards in the last few months—and the other refugees who now called this place home. There's a semblance of stability behind her eyes as she recounts it all. “We’ve come a long way,” she says. “It’s been hard, but we’re getting there. You’ll see.” 

You want to believe it; you almost do. But talk of warm-water showers, birthday celebrations, and even tending to livestock leaves you doubtful. It’s too reminiscent of life before everything fell apart. 

There had to be a catch. There’s always a catch. 

Whatever it is, Carol doesn’t let on. But you’re not convinced she believes the narrative she’s selling, either. She won’t say it, but you can hear it in the pauses. It’s something you’ll have to decipher for yourself.

When the two of you pass a mirror at the end of the hall, your step falters. 

Who is that?

You recognise Carol, of course. Her face is familiar enough, grey hair catching the light like silver, but the one beside her—you—is someone else entirely. Your throat tightens as you take in the face staring back at you. 

That’s not you; it can’t be.

When had you become this gaunt—this filthy? 

Your cheeks are hollowed out, their colour lost entirely. The lips below are dry and cracked. Whatever was on your head, you could no longer call it hair. It was a matted thing that trailed like rope to the backs of your knees. 

Staring into the mirror, you find nothing of yourself in that reflection. Everything you’d ever thought endearing, gone. Even your voice is not as it was. You doubt it could still carry a tune. 

It’s all too much. The sight of yourself—the thing claiming to be yourself—triggers emotions you hadn’t encountered in quite some time. Before you can stop it, your eyes are burning.

You fight the sensation. Squashing it down to the depths, you stamp it dead. You can’t afford to break now. Not here. Not in front of her.

��Come on,” Carol says gently, nudging you away from the mirror. 

Could she feel it? The way your heart jumped in your chest—how your legs threatened to give way? 

You try not to think on it. Instead, you nod.

Once you reach the communal area of the cell block, you’re escorted to the same dilapidated table you’d noted earlier. People are still gathered there—some you recognise, others not. They don’t stare outright, but you feel their eyes. You begin to tremble in response, as though your body is trying to shake them off. Wordlessly, you let Carol guide you to your spot.

A plate is already set in front of you. There’s meat on it; you're told it’s rabbit. One look, and you’re reminded of the bunny you raised as a kid—a fluffy white thing, pure as snow. It was decapitated by the neighborhood fox one evening. You never did find it's head. At the thought, nausea grows within you, but like everything else, you push it down. 

No one else is eating, you notice. You’re aware that you’re likely turning their stomachs just sitting here. The word ‘shower’ had been thrown in your direction more times than you could count, but nobody had followed through with the threat—yet. Instead, you are offered a bucket of water to rinse your hands. It turns brown from just a few passes.

“Thought you could use some meat on those bones,” Carol quips, the words blunt but not unkind. “Daryl caught it fresh.” She then gestures for you to take a bite, to eat rather than stare.

You nod. Stowing your hatchet safely on a nearby seat—you had refused to leave it in the cell—you reach for the cutlery laid out on the table. There’s a knife and an odd spork-like utensil. They seem intentionally blunt, and in your hands, too, they don’t properly fit. 

It’s been far too long. How did you use these, again?

With each stroke of the knife, your anxiety mounts. You can’t seem to get a clean cut. The meat is sinewy, too alive—nothing like the canned mush you’d survived on for the last year. It takes everything in you to keep the tremors from taking over, to keep your hands steady enough to continue.

As you poke about the rabbit on your plate, a woman who introduces herself as Maggie strikes up a conversation. “The old community college, huh?” she asks, in spite of cautionary glances. “My sister used to go some weekends. Probably finger paintin’ or singing kumbaya,” she adds. 

You catch the playful hint in her tone, and when she laughs, it’s a sound you’re not sure you remember how to respond to. It’s pretty—the kind that’s easy, like it hasn’t been twisted by everything bad. 

“Did you start there, or just end up there?” she asks, casually.

“St—started,” you manage. You’re not sure she hears you, but she leans in, trying to catch the words.

“Hmm?” 

“Started,” you repeat, louder, though it feels like a strain.

Beside Maggie, a darker, leaner woman shoots her a look. “Let the girl eat,” she says. There’s something practiced about the way she carries herself. You sense she’s the type not to pry, and you’re thankful for that. Her kind are few and far between. 

"You're right, Michonne," replies Maggie, and with her answer, you learn another name.

Despite the warning, a boy, not even in his teens, lingers near the table. You’d noticed him earlier, coated in a sort of pessimism unsuited to his age. “Were there a lotta walkers?” he blurts. He’s wearing a sheriff’s hat—one he hasn’t quite grown into—and is eyeing you from under its rim. “My dad said the worst place to be is somewhere like that. Bet there were a bunch of people during the outbreak.” 

The leader of the group, Rick, flicks his hat in warning. But it’s too late—the question’s out. Your stomach twists again as you focus on the meat, trying to chew through the knot forming in your throat.

Across from you, your eyes meet Glenn's. He’s the only one here who saw it: the halls rotting with bodies, the blood-soaked floors. Even then, he still doesn’t know the full extent. 

And what would he do if he did know? If he found out what happened there—what you did? Would he have brought you back?

Your mind starts to spiral. You shove a piece of the rabbit into your mouth, hoping to distract yourself. It goes down like tar. Your hands are shaking now, clattering the mismatched cutlery against your plate. No matter how hard you try,  you can’t prevent the shudder that rips through your body.

Carol, tempered by concern, leans in. “Did you get separated from your group?” she asks gently. “Is there anyone—”

Before she can finish, Daryl speaks up. “Would y’all quit it?” he says, his eyes flicking from Carol to the others. The gruffness of his voice stands in complete opposition to their concern. “Yer givin’ me indigestion and I ain’t even eatin’.”

For a moment, all attention is directed away from you and onto him. You’re grateful for the space it grants you—no matter how small. The next breath you take is intentionally drawn.

“I—” you lock eyes with Daryl, hoping to convey your gratitude. Instead, something else makes its way to the surface. “I’m going to be sick,” you announce.

There’s no time to stop it. The first to react, Michonne dumps the bucket of water out over the floor. You can’t hold it in anymore. Your head falls into it just in time to let the bile spill out. It’s a pitiful sort of retching. There’s no vomit; your stomach is too empty to give up anything more.

Behind you, someone rubs your back. You don't know who, but their cool hands are a welcomed reprieve to the clamminess of your skin. Your body betrays your mind as you instinctively arch into them. It’s only for a split second, before you pull away.

What have you done?

Head emerging from the bucket, you force yourself to look up. There are eyes on you again, more persistent than before. And in them, you see it, the swell of emotions:

Pity. Annoyance. Indifference. Disgust—

Your chair screeches against the floor as you dart out of it. You leave the table smelling even worse than before.

—

It’s mid-evening when Daryl catches sight of you again, scurrying along the catwalk to your cell. 

You’re still a mess, though slightly improved since dinner. He takes a passing look. You haven’t bathed yet—probably still shaken by that whole interrogation—but there’s something less rabid about you now. Your hair, still a matted mess, is pushed behind your ears, and you’re wearing an odd ensemble: jeans far too big for you and a shirt likely belonging to Glenn. They were clean, at least.

Daryl crosses you without a word. Tired eyes and heavy steps, he’s hell-bent on returning to his own cell for the night. He’s halfway down the catwalk, hand on the door, when he registers it. A voice, barely above a whisper:

“D—Daryl?” 

He stops upon hearing his name. Turning, he finds you right behind him—staring up with that wide-eyed expression.

He tries not to flinch. When the hell had you gotten there? You were just… 

Daryl’s gaze drops instinctively. Bare feet. That’s why you hadn’t made a sound. 

“—m sorry about the food.” 

He tunes in to your words. They’re coming out too haltingly, too polite for the situation. 

Daryl doesn’t know how to respond. Eat the food, don’t eat the food. Normally, he wouldn’t care. But something about the way you say it—so fragile, so damn apologetic—leaves him grasping at straws. He’s not good at this, never has been.

You keep going nonetheless. “It wouldn’t stay down... I’m sorry to w—waste it.”

A nervous stammer creeps into your words, and with it, fans Daryl’s agitation. He wants to bite back. To let you know he’s got better things to do than watch you throw up food he went out of his way to catch. But something inside of him chooses restraint.

You’re teetering on the edge; everyone within a five-foot radius can see it. And when he looks at you, for some reason, his mind deciphers it as fear. He’s just unsure whether it’s the fear of breaking you, or the fear of what you’ll do if broken. 

He shrugs his shoulders. “Mm,” he mutters. “Don’ matter. Can always get s’more.”

You don’t say anything after that. The silence hangs between you, heavy and awkward. Daryl shifts on his feet, mapping out the route back to his bed, and how quick he can get there.

“Jus’ eat the next one, a’right?” he says, with finality.

You nod, your gaze not lifting from the floor. “Goodnight.” 

“Night,” Daryl mutters back. Then he watches you disappear into the darkness of your cell, waiting for the clink as you lock it shut.

But it’s not a good night. 

It starts a few hours after they all turn in. Daryl bolts upright at the curdling scream ripping through the air. His heart slams against his chest, and instinct kicks in. He’s already got his crossbow in his hands before the panic can register.

Torchlight flickers along the catwalk as the others begin to scramble awake. There’s a cacophony of voices, footsteps on metal, guns cocking, and Rick barking orders as he joins Daryl to locate the source.

The sound echoes again. It’s coming from your cell, a god-awful shrieking that has him preparing for the worst. Rick’s master key turns in the lock, and the door swings open.

Daryl steps in behind him, crossbow aimed high as he searches for walkers—hell, for anything that could warrant those screams of utter terror. His heart pounds in his ears as he sweeps the room.

There’s nothing. No threat—no you. 

A flashlight shines over your cot, but it’s empty. Daryl follows the edges of the light,into the shadows and all four corners of the room. He finds you in one of them, curled up in a ball, rocking on the soles of your feet.

He gestures to Rick, who—spotting you there—lowers his gun. “Hey,” he says, with a tone like he’s negotiating you off a high-rise building. “Hey, it’s okay.” 

There’s no response. Your head is buried in your knees, arms wrapped around your legs as you sit twisted in blankets. The shrieking has stopped now, but your silence, Daryl finds, is far more unsettling.

Rick steps aside, exchanging a glance with Daryl. It’s a subtle signal for him to take the lead. He’d rather not, but it’s Rick, so he listens.

Lowering his crossbow, he edges forward. “C’mon, snap outta it,” he growls. The cut of his voice makes him cringe; he’s never been good with words.

When you don’t react, Daryl tries again—a little closer this time. His hand reaches for your shoulder despite his better judgement. 

A switch flips the second he touches you. Without warning, your arm shoots out, a blur of motion that sends your hatchet swinging wildly. The instinct to defend yourself—to fight—is so ingrained that it comes as natural as a breath. 

Daryl barely manages to dodge the assault. He pivots back, feeling the blade against strands of his hair. Then, as quick as it started, it's over.

You're looking at him now—not through him. Sweat is beading on your face, running down your cheeks like tears. Daryl knows better than to wipe it. As he stands out of his crouch, realisation flashes behind those massive eyes of yours. 

“God—I’m sorry,” you gasp, breath ragged. “I’m so sorry... I thought you were—” You don’t finish. You don’t have to. He knows. Everyone knows exactly what you thought you were seeing.

Rick let's out a sigh: half relief, half exhaustion. He throws a backwards glance at the gathering crowd, raising one hand in a calm gesture. “Go on,” he says to them, “back to bed.”

Daryl hears their protests. It's understandable; they'd raced from their rooms only to find the source of the threat was some raging loon having a nightmare—as harsh as it sounded.

“You gave us quite the fright there,” Rick continues, turning his attention back to you. At this moment, he's demonstrating more tact than he shows his own children. “Do you need someone to stay with you?”

You shake your head, barely lifting your eyes. “No.”

Rick shifts his weight, searching for something else to say. He doesn't believe you, Daryl can tell by his stance. But that's not his problem.

By now, Daryl had already retreated to the door, watching you from a safe distance in the dim light. He’s seen this in people before—the way the world cracks them open like an egg. It’s never pretty. And it would have been less pretty if he'd been standing just a half-step closer to you.

“Well, if ya do,” Daryl says, his voice still edged with sleep, “it ain’t gonna be me. I wanna keep my head.”

The words come out harsher than he intends, but he doesn’t care enough to fix them. He’s tired, irritable, and the way you can’t meet his eye right now is getting under his skin. So Daryl steps back into the corridor, leaving Rick alone to deal with you.

His cell isn't the same as it was a-half-hour ago. It looks the same, doesn't feel it. It's quiet, but in his mind, that scream still rings like an alarm he can't shut off. On his cot, too, he fights with the covers. They're everywhere—too hot, too stifling. Too reminiscent of your emaciated body, tangled in bedsheets as you looked to Daryl for answers.

And he'd just left you there: wide-eyed and afraid.

Daryl doesn’t sleep that night.

Neither do you.

A/N Merry Christmas and happy holidays, lovers! I hope you've had a good one. I have eaten such ungodly amounts of cheese. That said, enjoy this lil gift from me. I busted my balls to get it out today - alternating between stuffing me face and putting words on the page. So do let me know if you like it! I also hope the change in POV isn't too confusing. I want to tell this story from both of their perspectives, since reader is a little bit of an unreliable narrator haha. Enjoyyyy x

[psychemochanight]

Honestly, even if I love the new interpretation of Dick as the "angry Robin" that we have these days, sometimes it feels bad that you can't talk about a version of Dick as Robin that isn't like that without getting people saying things like "that's not Dick, he's the angry one, the bloodthirsty one" and... What?

It takes away a lot of depth from the character when people only think of that when talking about Robin!Dick, when, since always, Dick was, quite possibly, one of the best written characters, and one of those that has more nuances to make him a completely human character, not only in the sense of not having superpowers, but of being able to empathize with him.

There are many versions of the story, but the most widely accepted version is that Dick lost his parents at the age of eight, watching them fall because they sabotaged their act, an act Dick probably saw many times, one he knew for sure his parents would never fail... Until it failed, and through no fault of their own.

Dick was a little boy who grew up in a loving family (as far as we know, I still think they were strict, but not necessarily bad parents... We'll talk about the Court of Owls later), and from one second to the next, all of that ended. Even if Bruce was there for him, things obviously weren't the same anymore, they never would be again.

Although many have the idea that Dick escaped from youth center to kill Zucco, in the original stories Dick didn't even know yet about him, at least not that much to know what he really did; but he wanted to escape from juvenile so as not to lose his values, so as not to stop being who he is, who his parents taught him to be.

Even in the lines where he DOES say he wants to kill Zucco, in most cases, when push comes to shove, he wants to prevent Zucco's death. There are some moments where he even confesses that he didn't want Zucco to die, he just wanted justice for his parents.

People now see Dick as the Robin who only saw misfortune and was an absolute menace to society, and while, yes, Dick was an absolute menace, it was only to the villains, who heard a little boy laughing at them before beating the shit out of them. Plus, even as a child he was a master manipulator, both for enemies and allies.

But what about the rest? Robin was supposed to be the light where Batman was the darkness. He was the one who comforted scared civilians when Batman couldn't. He was the sensitivity that Batman cannot afford to show.

Dick Grayson was the one who saved Batman from losing himself in the same darkness that he himself was making his only way of life, and this is something that Alfred has pointed out before. It is thanks to Dick that Batman stopped being the ruthless "hero" he was becoming. Damn, he was the one who softened Alfred's heart in the first place too.

This was the Robin that Superman saw as worthy of carrying the mantle of Nightwing, whom he saw as someone who could represent hope itself.

Bruce didn't start smiling just because of the other Robins like many people now believe, no. Dick was the first to make him smile again, the one who opened the doors for the others.

Dick was always kind and tender-hearted, always joy where there was only devastation.

Even if he was the living nightmare of villains, he was still that cheerful child who wanted to avoid the pain of others. The boy who inspired other heroes, not only because of his skills, but because of his heart.

Dick is a character who, while he is now more recognized as Nightwing than as Robin (which doesn't bother me at all, because that was always his goal when he became an independent hero), he still has a history that people seem to increasingly forget about and pigeonhole his development into something... Flat.

Were there times when Dick had more anger and pain than any other feeling in him? Yes, absolutely YES. But this stage is mostly in his Discowing years, not of Robin as such (I'm not saying there weren't such moments, but there aren't as many as people describe now), or as some animated series showed (I love these series, even if they turned Dick into a feral child who is unable to smile, lol)

Again. I LOVE Dick's portrayal as a feral child and absolute menace to society (which he was), but I also LOVE when artists, writers, and the entire fandom itself appreciates the different nuances of his personality, from his ability to laugh despite the misfortunes in his life, to his sadness that never ceased to be a part of him, until the moments where he could only feel rage and pain and felt that the world was only darkness, unable to see the colors that emerged from the light he projected by himself.

Look at him, he's so cute <3

Does anyone care about this yap? No, but I wanted to let out what I've been repeating in my head for days because people on tiktok have me fed up HAHA

[urfavlarry]

—You’re the kind of person they write rock songs about

-modern!au Viktor x fem!reader warning. not proof read, swearing, might be OOC

part one || part two

‼️A/N. if anyone wants to be added to the taglist for this fic, let me know!! ‼️

'Taste me, you will see

'More is all you need..'

You were an art major with dreams of becoming a performer—a passion that stuck to you during your high school years. It wasn’t always a dream of yours; as a child, you’d imagined yourself as a ballerina or a doctor saving hundreds of lives but everything changed when the gates of high school and teenage drama opened up to you.

In your sophomore year, you and a few friends stumbled upon a shared love for music and decided to form a small rock band. Powder, your best friend, took the lead as the singer. Her stepsister, Isha, played the drums, while Ekko, Powder’s boyfriend, handled the bass. You took on guitar duties and backup vocals. The band quickly became a big part of your lives, and you weren’t half bad.

By the time you all made it to college—except Isha, who was in her senior year of high school—you were performing at local bars and small venues. The gigs didn’t pay much, but they weren’t a loss either, and your parents were proud of your dedication.

You got more of a recognition when the principal assigned you and the band to play some of your own songs or whatever covers you deemed fit for the occasion and even got an award which earned you the title of the ‘schools rock stars’ by most of the people who attended that day and it quickly spread and stuck until graduation.

The journey, however, wasn’t always just rainbows and sunshine. Learning guitar and perfecting your singing skills took patience, and there were moments of frustration.

Your forgetfulness and stupidity often kicked you right in the ass—or well, fingers— having to buy a new guitar pick every few days leaving your fingers bloody and sore. On a particular night performing at the Last Drop your guitar was left bloodied after you thought it would be an absolutely genius idea to play Metallicas ‘Master of Puppets’ which luckily went great! The crowd went wild however it did earn you quite a scolding from Vander as he carefully put band aids on each of your fingers. However he could tell by the proud look on your face that you thought it was worth it, people coming up to cogratulate you on your performance, suggesting songs or giving you sweets they bought as a sort of reward and all Vander could really do was laugh at his daughter’s best friends foolishness.

While you immersed yourself in music, Viktor—a double major in physics and engineering—navigated a completely different world. His close circle of friends—Vi, Powder’s older sister; Jayce, Mel and Caitlyn, Vi’s girlfriend—shared little in common with your bandmates, yet you crossed paths by chance from time to time. Viktor knew of you mostly through Vi and Jayce’s stories or from the few times he happened to see your band perform.

One such instance was prom, where he watched you take the stage with confidence. Another was a night at The Last Drop, where Viktor had ended up by chance when Vi dragged the group into the establishment for a few drinks.

Today the bar was as lively as ever. The dimly lit bar was packed, and the familiar hum of chatter and clinking glasses filled the air before the first note was played. “Are you ready?” You half screamed into the mic as a roar of cheers and claps bounced through the walls. You strummed your fingers along the strings of your guitar, gifted to you not long ago by your friends since your old one was pretty wrecked however it still had it’s place and on display in your bedroom as a symbol of where you first started while Isha got into the beat of ‘Can’t stop’ by the Red Hot Chilli Peppers.

You saw a few faces light up but most didn’t quiet recognize the song but still looked like they were enjoying themselves as the chatter slowly died down, all eyes and ears on your performance.

Viktor sat in the corner with Vi, Jayce, and Caitlyn, his attention flitting between their conversation and the band on stage. He wasn’t one for loud, crowded places, but something about your music intrigued him. He knew of the rock genre because of Jayce being quite a fan of System of a Down and many other bands he would need a whole notebook to name however Vi had a big part of the introduction herself but he adjusted to the change of genre he wasn’t quiet familiar with before he met his dear friends.

There was a passion in your performance that resonated with him, though he couldn’t quite explain why.

After the set, you stepped off the stage, sweaty and exhilarated. Powder gave you a playful nudge, her eyes twinkling with pride. “Killed it as always,” she said with a grin.

“Thanks, Pow,” you replied, wiping your brow. Your gaze swept across the room, catching sight of a group you vaguely recognized—Vi’s crew. As if on queue Vi averted her gaze from the group and caught your attention, waving you over, and though you hesitated for a moment before you all made your way to their table. “Hey, Rockstar!” Vi greeted, giving you a playful smirk. “Nice set tonight. You finally learned how to tune that thing, huh?”

You rolled your eyes at her teasing. “Thanks, Vi. You still can’t keep a beat, though, can you?”

The group laughed, and you found yourself pulled into their orbit. Introductions were made, though most were unnecessary—you already knew who they were. When it came to Viktor, however, there was an awkward pause.

“Viktor,” he said, offering a polite nod. You smiled and gave your name in response and decide to strike up a conversation with the man. “Thanks for sticking around! You don’t seem like the type for these kinds of outings.” You say truthfully and chuckle nervously.

“It was... impressive,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet but sincere. “You’d be correct on that last part. I don’t often attend these kinds of events, but your performance was captivating.” His accent was foreign to you yet it was a cute quality, making your stomach flutter with butterflies. The compliment however caught you off guard. You weren’t used to that kind of earnest praise, especially from someone who seemed like they’d be more of the jazz or pop type. “Thanks,” you said, a bit bashfully. “Glad you enjoyed it.”

The conversation shifted back to the group, but Viktor’s words lingered in your mind. Something about his quiet demeanor fascinated you, and you couldn’t help but want to know more about this mystery of a man.

That night when you all went your seperate ways once you got to the college dorms, Powder noticed how lost in thought you were; basically just lying on the bed and looking at nothing. “Okay, what’s with your teen spirit Cobain?” She chuckles at her own joke and you look at her with a ‘really?’ face, letting out a giggle of your own. “So many other jokes out there and that’s what you come up with?” You push her shoulder playfully and sit up from your bed, facing her. “Okay, okay.. enough shaming my stand up comedy, what’s wrong Y/N?”

“That Viktor guy from your sister’s group.. with the accent and shit?” You start as a smirk sneaked onto her lips, kicking her feet in the air as she lied on her stomach. “Yeaah?” “Well I don’t know, something about me just.. makes me want to get to know him you know?” You sigh, throwing yourself onto Powders bed, lying on her stomach. “He’s such a nerd though! From what Vi told me over the phone a few times he’s like a workaholic but ten times worse girl. And he looks like he has a couple conditions.. probably should get that checked.” She mumbled to herself, making you giggle. “Come on Pow that’s just straight up mean.”

“But look who’s giggling.” She flicks the side of your head and joins in on your laughter.

You remember the cane he had, the golden details and carvings and the way his under eyes were darker then the rest of his pale, almost sickly skin. His jawline was sharp with a straight nose and an almost unnoticeable underbite. He was pretty cute.. He was probably a cool person to be around so you wondered if you’d have the chance to maybe hang out with him.

“Do you think your sister would be up to hanging out? You know, our group and hers? We have that show next weekend we can invite them there and spend the rest of the night doing whatever!” You suggest and quickly get a nod of approval from your blue haired friend which only made your excitement rise.

Next weekend it is.. Maybe he’d be up to a one on one hangout once you have the chance to ask, maybe even over the phone if you’re lucky enough to get his number or socials. Until next weekend all you could do was practice and imagine every sort of scenario of how it would all go.

taglist: let me know if you want to be added

© URFAVLARRY

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE OR COPY ANY OF MY WRITING TO OTHER PLATFORMS

I DON’T CONSENT FOR MY WRITING TO BE USED TO TRAIN AI 🚫

[mammalsofaction]

since you've compiled moments where heinz is the possessive one... could we possibly get ones of perry being the jealous/possessive one? 👀

OH NONNIE I GIGGLED

Let's start with the basics 🙏🏼🙏🏼:

Their entire B-Plot in About Time:

Including their legendary first break up song where Perry started staring into puddles like a disney princess with a falshback montage:

(Here's an extended Alt):

Which led to Perry getting pissed off whenever Heinz is in Seattle without telling him (Meapless in Seattle):

And eventually Perry getting pissed off when Heinz got kidnapped by Peter's situationship and rushing to go save him in Seattle again. (Lost in Danville) (Yes, Perry is not the hugest fan of Seattle)

Heinz ended giving Mystery relationship advice and Peter got to meet Mystery's parents :)

Im running out of the picture limit. I can't find the one where Perry got upset when Heinz brought up the babe Inator, but here is Perry getting upset when Mono's speculating about Heinz's new date:

Perry being an overprotective asshole who won't let Heinz do missions during OWCA files:

Some fucking merch content of all things:

Perry being really sad and reaching for Heinz during their SECOND break up arc in Milo Murphy's Law:

Sending a card that was probably his equivalent to falling on knees grovelling:

Damn did I forget to tell you Perry takes pictures, edits, and keeps a whole stash of his photos with Doof in his wallet? Must've slipped my mind:

Anyway. The misunderstanding in MML was because Perry ends up being Time Industries' (Heinz future business endeavor as the Founder of Time Travelling) first and largest shareholder. He cashes in every penny made in overtime for Heinz to build his company back up.

Dan Povenmire stitched this chibi shorts episode as one SPECIFICALLY MADE FOR A "Specific subset of the Phineas and Ferb fandom" spoiler alert: apparently Perry's less upset about Heinz going around kissing people when it's Perry he's kissing.

Here's a short where Perry is apparently less cool about Heinz getting beat up when its someone else beating him up:

And here's a lil bonus Perry getting upset by a fake platypus Baljeet made when he went missing:

This is a very, VERY limited list, including moments of Perry being Fucking Whipped. I have carefully redacted moments of:

-Perry being sweet

-Perry being supportive

-Them being domestic

-Perry being so, so, so incredibly fond of Heinz

-Perry trusting Heinz with his life.

-Perry being sure Heinz doesn't have a life outside of him, anyway.

And in fact i am sure i have missed a lot more out of canon content. Perry being codependent, possessive, protective and jealous is common knowledge at this point. I've made a post before where Perry the Second Dimension proves that Perry has control Issues and an insecurity of being easily replaced by his loved ones, excaberted by Francis' frequent threats of relocating him at the drop of a hat.

Tldr: Perry suffers from down bad-ism and if you look at Heinz too long he is liable to commit violence ♥️♥️♥️

[bubbipond]

Fadel and Bison are definitively each other’s biggest support systems and protectors, while also being each other’s biggest downfalls and obstacles. See the thing is both have things they want to do in life, but they also both know that they can’t because of the other. The biggest issue that they both have is the lack of communication. They communicate perfectly when it comes to their job or when it comes to moving around. But when it comes to personal things, that’s where they fall flat. Which I would argue is far more important to communicate about than work because their lack of communication is why they are stuck in their current situation.

Fadel is stuck in a never-ending routine of having to restart because of Bison’s emotions. While Bison is consistently playing dumb and keeping them both safe even when Fadel can’t. But the thing is, both are doing it without the knowledge of the other and without really talking to the other. Fadel definitively believes Bison is incapable of making sound decisions. While Bison definitively believes that Fadel is an unmovable (physically and emotionally) obstacle for them both. But neither would ever leave the other and that is very important to the story. Fadel can’t just leave Bison because he does not see him as someone who can take care of himself. Bison can’t just leave Fadel because as we have seen, Fadel is easier to manipulate than Bison. Their need to keep each other safe and to make sure their last familiar bonds stay intact, make it impossible to move away from their current circumstance. I’m not saying this is a bad thing or that their relationship is toxic. But the problem with codependency is that when you get to a place where you want to break away, you almost always fall short. Whether it is through an outside source or through your feeling for the other person. Almost everything Fadel and Bison do is to protect the other. Fadel would absolutely die if it meant saving Bison and Bison would absolutely die if it meant saving Fadel. Even when it comes to Kant and Style we see that neither brother (no matter how much love they feel) will break from the other even if come next week, they have deferring feelings about this new information.

It’s also very important for “Mom’s” cause, them being so codependent. With that level of dependency, she only truly needs to manipulate one for the other to stay. They will absolutely never leave without each other. If Fadel needs to stay, Bison will stay too. If Bison needs to stay, Fadel will stay too. Even when they start to dream about a new life and a more normal life that life is still definitively just the two of them. Which obviously has a lot to do with their line of work, but, if their line of work changes and is no longer dangerous, they shouldn’t have to keep people out. The problem that stands with that is that they both dream of having other people and living normal lives but they don’t know what that means in terms of each other. Bison enlisted Kant to find someone for Fadel but he never intended to actually leave Fadel (and by leave I don’t mean never speak to again just not be so attached at the hip). While even in Fadel’s perfect scenario with Style, there was never a point where Bison was not also a major factor. Style and Kant are probably the first time in their lives since their parents died that they had something apart from the other. But even then, they are literally dating best friends. Until one or both of them realize that they can still be brothers and family without being detrimental to the other, they won’t be able to move on. Even when/if they get away from their current life.

[mlbigbang2024]

ML Big Bang 2024 Fic Recs

Angst/Hurt/Comfort

This collection of fics were recommended by the contributors of the @mlbigbang2024 for their favourite fics of 2024 (posted in between Nov 2023 and Dec 2024)

Gen and Teen and above Fic

A Small But Stubborn Fire (Rated: T)

By @cardiac-agreste (KPG)

Main relationship: Sabine & Marinette

Tags: Angst, Mother-Daughter Relationship

Summary: What if you were the parent of a teenage superhero, but didn't know they were? All you know is the nightmares, the panic attacks, and the bruises. She's missing school, she's disappearing on you, and she's not telling you anything.

And what do you do when you realize you weren't thinking dark enough? Because your fourteen-year old daughter is the hero who flirts with death on the nightly news.

--

Come inside and read about one mother's struggles to raise her daughter in a dangerous world while avoiding the mistakes her own mother made with her.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: Such a lovely exploration of Sabine's character and the fascinating point-of-view that is being the parent of a superhero. Sabine's growth is awesome, and the passion and care of the author really shines through.

Holding onto the Memory of You (Rated: T)

By @fruitdragon1a

Main relationship: Juleka/Rose

Tags: Rose Lavillant has Cancer, Grieving Juleka Couffaine, Hurt No Comfort

Summary: Juleka and Rose are on the métro when something happens to Rose.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: It is gut-wrenching and so sad and I love it so much.  

Games of Destruction (Rated: T)

By DayRise1, ScribeOfRhapsody

Main Relationship: Gabriel/Nathalie, Adrien/Marinette

Tags: AU - Hunger Games, The Miraculous are Weapons in the Arena, Child Murder

Summary: Against all odds, Gabriel Agreste had won the Hunger Games at the mere age of fourteen. Now, years later, his worst nightmare has come to life in the form of his own son being selected for the Games.

Adrien didn't have a lot to worry about growing up as the son of a Victor. Until this year, that was. Now, he and the sweet baker girl from down the road have been chosen to represent their district in the 74th Hunger Games – a vicious battle to the death using magical artifacts where only one tribute may survive.

Marinette has spent a year comforting her best friend after her sister died in the Hunger Games, only for Alya to be reaped herself. Volunteering in her place, Marinette now finds herself alongside her crush and his father as she truly realizes the magnitude of what she's signed up for.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: It's a hunger games AU with Miraculous, and it is really well constructed. The way characters are portayed in this is great, and there is a lot of references to the Hunger games books. Also this universe plays with its own rules for the games added with the use of the Miraculous.  

All Wrapped up in a Bow (Rated: T)

By @trinketsinthesun

Main relationship: Adrien/Marinette

Tags: Oblivious Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Oblivious Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: Although Ladybug knew it was her imagination, the Christmas lights seemed to shine brighter in Paris after Monarch was defeated. Everyone was happier, and she couldn’t blame them. One huge Adrien-shaped detail aside, she was happy herself.

So why wasn’t Cat Noir?

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: The angst is so delicious!

You Matter to Me: A Miraculous/Waitress Story (Rated: T)

By writeanytime

Main relationship: Luka/Kagami

Tags: Inspired by Music, Unplanned Pregnancy, Bad Parent Tomoe Tsurugi

Summary: Kagami is content with her life. Sure, it's busy, predictable, and lonely, but she's fine! But when a one-night stand with Luka leads to an unplanned pregnancy, she is forced to rethink her entire life

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: Kagami grows out of her shell following an unexpected pregnancy and comes to terms with her damaged relationship with her controlling mother. 

The Beauty of Truth (Rated: T)

By @uptoolateart

Main relationship: Adrien & Emilie Agreste

Tags: Grief/Mourning, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Needs a Hug, John Keats

Summary: Cat Noir visits his mother's grave, in memory of a visit they once paid together to John Keats's grave in Rome.

Inspired by a line from The Cap and Bells by KPG: 'When he’d met Ladybug, all knots and tangles and grit, he thought he understood what Keats meant by a steadfast, bright star.'

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: It's UNREAL how well this one-shot is written. It’s so good. I love it because it made me ugly cry. I’m a sucker for Adrien & Emilie relationship. EGADS, READ THIS.

What Cuts Through the Silence (Rated: T)

By @coffeebanana

Main relationship: Adrien/Marinette

Tags: Post-Break Up, Phone Calls & Telephones, Depressed Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir

Summary: “Adrien? It’s late, are you okay?”

His stomach twists. Because it’s not late, not really. Not for Marinette, who he knows will be up until the wee hours of the morning, even if it’s one of those nights where she swears she’s going to bed early.

He knows her. And so he knows what she really means.

It’s too late for him to be calling her.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: Adrien and Marinette have broken up. Adrien still relies on her. It’s sad and poignant and will make you teary-eyed.

Mature and Explicit Fics

Requiem for a Dream (Rated: E)

By @akumatisedhamster

Main relationship: Luka x Adrien x Marinette

Tags: Polyamory, Single Mother, Teacher!Adrien

Summary: Six years ago, the Supreme was defeated with the help of Shadybug and Claw Noir. But not without its consequences. Trapped in a magical coma using the power of jubilation, they were slowly tortured, reliving nightmares of their own design.

In an act of desperation, Hesperia wiped the memories of Shadybug and Claw Noir so that they could live the rest of their lives as normal teenagers.

What he didn’t know was that Shadybug was pregnant at the time.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: I love the post-Supreme reverse world and the whole memory wipe element!

Bubblegum Soul (Rated: M)

By @wehadabondingmoment

Main relationship: Adrien/Marinette

Tags: Post-Defeat of Gabriel Agreste, Sentimonster Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Mind Control

Summary:

"The impulse to throw away his ring, to slam it on the ground and watch its metallic splinters chap away at his soul, got more tempting by the second. Maybe, for a moment, he would learn what it meant to be alive."

(Or: Hawk Moth has been defeated and Adrien is suffering more than ever. Armed with unhealthy coping mechanisms and the knowledge that he apparently isn't human, he embarks on a journey of self-discovery.)

(Except that his father isn't quite ready to give up just yet.)

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: A lovely exploration of Adrien's feelings about being a sentibeing and his relationship with his father. Some really gorgeous writing that comes from the heart.  Hawkmoth has lost, and Adrien knows he’s senti. He has to deal with that knowledge. There are passages in this story that will take your breath away with the author's creativity and ability to evoke profound emotions.

Those We Leave Behind (Rated: M)

By @raspberrycatapult

Main Relationship: Adrien/Marinette

Tags: Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Child Death, Crying

Summary: Marinette dies suddenly. There’s no time to prepare. No time to say goodbye. She’s just…gone.

But she hasn’t quite left this world. She still lingers as a spirit, a ghost.

And the only person who can see her is Adrien.

Follows Marinette as she tries to process her death, Adrien as he struggles with the loss of his friend and partner, and her friends and family as they grieve.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: Marinette DIES. Now she’s a ghost. Everyone is sad, nobody knows what happened to Ladybug, and it’s just SAD AND PAIN (and wonderful). RC is so good at making my withered old heart happy even when I'm reading something full of pain. Powerfully evocative.

Maybe This Life (Rated: E)

By @coffeebanana

Main Relationship: Adrien/Marinette

Tags: Suicide Attempt, Depression, Dissociation

Summary: "Adrien's in the hospital."

Woken in the dead of night by a series of frantic phone calls, Marinette finds herself boarding a bus from New York to Montreal instead of flying home for winter break. Not that she has a clue how she'll navigate living with Adrien—who definitely wants nothing to do with her since the break up—for the indefinite future.

Adrien just wants to find the energy to convince Marinette he's fine—that she can leave. Because having her here hurts too much, and he's better off alone. At least, that's what he tells himself.

They're an ocean away from home, stuck together in a one-bedroom apartment, in a city suffocated by snow. The distance between them has never felt so insurmountable.

But maybe there's hope after all.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: Adrien attempts suicide. His ex, Marinette, is the only one able to get to him in the hospital. It’s claustrophobic, angsty, and well-written.

[hypotheticalprose]

Dandadan Finale, or why cutting your season in half is fucking stupid

The end of Dandadan season 1 has rightfully frustrated or turned off some viewers, but I think the way that the story has been framed, especially by the abrupt ending mid-arc, has a lot to do with the reception. This is also a broader meditation on edgier scenes in storytelling and what, if anything, can justify their use.

Spoilers for Dandadan season two, so be warned I guess. Content warning for discussion of sexual assault.

Some people have pointed out that in the manga, Momo’s encounter at the bath is resolved in a single chapter as a point in favor of it being not a big deal. While that’s true, I don’t think that gets to the point of what turns people off from these kinds of things: the feeling of gratuity and lack of necessity. If something is included in a story for seemingly no reason, people are going to assume that the reason was self-indulgence. And it’s very, very reasonable to be creeped out by a story that seemingly self-indulges in that kind of thing.

The question that really matters is, what is the story trying to say with the inclusion of this scene? A clean-cut example of a challenging scene with a purpose is actually the first episode of Dandadan, where Momo’s fight with her shitty, abusive boyfriend is replicated shot-for-shot with her fight against the Serpo. In both cases, she is fighting back, but unlike the first time, when she only wins a moral victory by telling him to fuck off, in the second scene she demolishes the aliens, establishing that she is not a damsel in distress, but rather the protagonist of the story.

Let’s go back to the bathhouse scene and zoom outa a bit. In the manga, it’s established that the men who attack her in the bath are members of the Kito family, who also happen to be Jiji’s landlords and the main antagonists of the arc. At the same time that the men attack her, the Kito family woman barge into Jiji’s home, threaten him with a shotgun, and generally act similarly threatening. It’s also established that the Kito family see themselves as the guardians of their town, but the rest of the town seems to despise them; the men get chased out of the bath after Momo kicks their ass and are only saved by a corrupt cop in their payroll.

So, what is the story trying to say?

The Kito family are utterly entitled. Because they “keep the town safe,” they view any transgression as compensation for their sacrifice. The fact that they don’t actually sacrifice anything themselves is utterly irrelevant to them. Their matriarch even explicitly tells Momo that they “keep the hot springs safe” despite the fact that they do the exact opposite of that. The literal sacrifices that they commit is a mirror to this.

Another thing to consider: there’s a reason every member of the family is depicted as middle-aged or old. They’re a living embodiment of the entitlement of older generations; shitty parents, abusive landlords, creepy older men who twist social norms to their own benefit.

A secondary purpose of the bath scene is that it introduces Turbo-Granny’s luck-based powers that she gained from her new cat form, as well as demonstrating that despite her harsh words, she doesn’t tolerate the abuse of girls around her, including Momo. It’s a moment of camaraderie between the two of them that develops their bond.

So clearly, this is not an instance of gratuitous sexual abuse. It serves a purpose in the story. The problem is that it only serves that purpose as a small part of a longer arc. Making it a cliffhanger is an utterly incomprehensible choice, especially when the next episode doesn’t come out for six months. Holy shit, that’s such a bad idea! Removing the scene from its context makes it gratuitous! Frankly, it would be better not to have it at all if that’s your plan. It didn’t sit right with me, and I knew the context. For anime-only viewers, it feels like it utterly undermines the point made in the first episode. It makes Momo into a victim again instead of the hero. Ending the season like that is a betrayal of the story’s original message.

Science SARU remains one of my favorite animation studios of all time, but this was a missed input of gargantuan proportions. This is also why 12-episode seasons that are actually just half of a season are stupid as fuck.

One last point before I sign off on this: I think it’s very reasonable to not be interested in a story where sexual assault is played for laughs, drama, or horror. Even if it is technically proficient and serves a purpose, it isn’t for everyone. An example is Devilman Crybaby’s reboot, also by Science SARU, as well as Fire Punch and Chainsaw Man by Tatsuki Fujimoto. I wouldn’t just recommend those to anyone without warning them about the challenging elements. It’s no different from extreme non-sexual violence, or explicit consensual sex scenes, really. People have different comfort levels, and that’s totally fine. Lord knows I have my limits. I’ve been watching Ranma 1/2 lately, and I despise Happosai with every fiber of my being and skip every episode he shows up in. I’d kill him with a hammer if I could.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Against The Spiderverse - Miguel O'Hara X Female Reader

Title: Against The Spiderverse

Miguel O'Hara X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Lyla, other Spiderpeople (Mentioned), Peter Parker/Spider-Man (Mentioned), Sandman (Mentioned), and Venom (Mentioned)

WC: 6,692

Warnings: Spiderverse canon violence, very brief mention of injuries, italics, nicknames, some Spanish curse words, banter, teasing, hurt feelings, hurt/comfort, crying, yelling, death mentioned, grief, confessions, angst, and fluff

Brooklyn had always looked so amazing at night. The bright city lights seemed to sparkle, outshining the stars in the sky; like most cities. Something you loved and hated. You loved the city lights at night, but sometimes you just wished to stargaze. The city lights could never hold a candle to the stars burning up in the night sky.

You tried to spot them, staring up at the sky, squinting your eyes slightly to try and spot either Orion's belt or either Big or Little Dipper, but, it was difficult. The stars seemed so... Faint - dull. And at that very moment, you wished you were at your parent's house in the countryside. But, the cities of New York needed you. 

You were Spider-Woman. The friendly neighbor of Brooklyn, Queens, and any city or town in New York that needed you. Which was more often than not. You'd swing past large buildings - business, homes, apartments - stopping low-tier muggers and robbers, and occasionally a villain that threatened the peace, but nothing too insane or outlandish. There was no one you couldn't stop. But your heroism didn't just stop at fighting villains and whomever else decided that today was going to be a good day to rob someone, no, sometimes you were asked to save a cat from a tree or save a child from a burning building. 

It was tough and rough work - you couldn't count how many times you came home to your apartment with bruises and cuts - but this was your job. No matter how much you fell, you got back up again; no matter what or who you were dealing with, nothing was going to stop you from saving the good people of New York. 

You were Spider-Woman. That was just what you had to do. 

But this hero thing... You were never bitten by a radioactive spider, you didn't have the super strength, or the ‘climbing walls’ ability, you were just, well, you. Well, not really. You were Spider-Woman, stating the obvious here. You had made your own web-fluid and web wrist slingers. You made your own suit, with added padding and protection, even bullet-proof, while also keeping the suit flexible. You - before becoming the hero - had trained and went to the gym often - made an investment for a punching bag in your living room - you made sure you could fight too; you could throw a pretty good right hook when you needed to. And you may or may not have done Kung Fu as a kid. But the web-fluid, something that you made with the help of your science degree, helped with keeping the bad guys trapped and tied up until the police arrived. 

Now, you weren't your New York's only Spider-Woman, or Spider-person for that matter. There was a Spider-Man before you. He used to be the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, swinging past buildings and saving people from various villains that appeared. He did some much good for the world. He brought hope to those who didn't have much to really hope for. 

You had many run-ins with him in the past. But, not in any good way. No, you weren't some damsel in distress, he didn't swoop down and save you, nor did he help save your cat from a tree, no... Let's just say that three years ago, you weren't on the cops - or Spider-Man's - good side. 

You were just trying to make ends meet, okay? It was hard to live in New York, and you didn't have the money to move. You had friends there, your school, job, and you were not moving back in with your parents. You moved to the big city of Brooklyn to get away from the country. You wanted to live your life, spend time getting to know people, getting to know yourself. Becoming the person you wanted to be.

But then school started, college was becoming difficult, especially when projects started stacking up on your desk. On top of that, you lived in a pretty crappy apartment - with very thin walls - and you practically lived paycheck to paycheck. Not to mention, your boss was kind of mean, but you needed the job, and the last seven million jobs you applied for had shut you down or outright ignored you.

You had to do something, and you weren't going to burden your parents or friends for money. You'd admit that you were a bit stubborn and hated asking others for help. You - with most things in life - learned to deal with problems by yourself - you were pretty independant. And you were not going to ask anyone for help on this. You needed to do something. And you needed to figure it all out on your own. And that something was robbing people. Well, you weren't some mugger, going up and demanding they hand over their money or bag over. You just snuck into people's houses and apartments when they were out and stole their valuables. 

Was that so wrong? To steal from the rich? They could have anything they have ever wanted, who cares if a couple hundred dollars is stolen from their safe, or a couple pearl and diamond necklaces go missing? Who cares? People steal from big companies all the time. Last week, a few people stole from one of the Gucci stores in New York City; who cares if a couple bags or clothing items are taken? They were a billion-dollar company. It wouldn't hurt their pockets. This - for you - was technically 'steal from the rich and give to the poor,’ which was you, you were the poor. 

Well, Spider-Man didn't really see that. You understood, to him, you were just another criminal. He had told you, many times when he had caught you, that there were better ways of handling your money situation, but you tried. And, oh, how tired you were. You tried so many different solutions - second and third jobs, taking up tutoring positions, and more, but nothing helped or worked out for you; and you had no idea why. 

Your interventions with Spidey usually involved him asking you to stop stealing from people, to rethink your actions, or whatever. But, as time went on - months - after the both of you got to know each other somewhat; oddly enough, Spider-Man felt more like a concerned friend than some hero trying to stop you. The way he spoke to you changed. Concern was obvious in his voice. He didn't fight you with his fists or webs, and most nights just ended with the both of you sitting on the edge of a building, just talking...

You both talk about life, him and his heroic duties, how tired he was, and you with your jobs, school, and how tired you were. Now, he never told you his name, or anything personal. And you understood, even though you were in an odd friendship, he was keeping himself - and in turn, you - safe. Thinking back, you never told him your name either. You just called him Spidey, Webs, and so on. And he'd call you Jem. Fitting really, from all the jewelry you’ve stolen before. 

No wonder he was a hero. He was kind and caring. He truly cared about people's lives and well-being in general. No wonder some spider chose him to save his universe's New York.

You knew some radioactive spider would never choose you, yet, you continued helping the people of New York. You took up that mantel of Spider-Woman because you knew that there had to be someone to help those in need. Someone to bring people hope. Hope that there will be another day, hope that the darkness wouldn't last forever. That whatever danger people faced, that you would be there. You had to be that someone. And you knew that your Spider-Man would've been proud of you. You knew he had to have been. Honestly, you knew you weren't doing this for the betterment of yourself, you were doing this for New York, and for him. 

So, you redesigned your robbery attire into something more Spider-like. You kept to the original design of Spidey's suit, but you added your own little flare to it. As said previously, added protection - keeping the flexibility - and whatever else you felt should and could have been added, was added to the suit. It was quite obvious that you weren't Spider-Man, but you still tried to make sure you were your own thing, not just replacing him. You could never replace him.

Spider-Man was long gone. But never a distant memory. He was on billboards, posters, merchandise, and in the hearts of many. That's why it hit so hard when he died. You knew that the people of New York mourned, you could see it - the candlelight vigils, everything - but you couldn't imagine how his family and friends felt. That night, you learned his name. His true identity. And only then did it finally hit you that he was truly gone. You had hope - an almost idiotic, foolish hope - that he'd just swing in from out of nowhere, and everything would go back to the way it was... Maybe you were just in denial, but he never did... And you knew that he would never come back.

It was hard sometimes, fighting crime, and you wondered if this was the feeling Spidey spoke about to you when he was alive. You were so tired. It was just the same thing over and over, fighting this robber, or this villain left and right. No wonder you were so tired. Some days it felt like you were just swinging through life. But being tired, being lonely, never stopped other Spider-people from doing what was right. And you weren't going to be the first one. 

~~~

You found out about the Spider Society a year and a half into you being Spider-Woman. You had always wondered about alternate universes, but never thought it was really possible until you were fighting a Sandman that didn't really look like he belonged. You had fought a different Sandman, he was more sand than man, and nine or ten feet tall. The Sandman that you were fighting in some abandoned warehouse looked like a man, but with sand-like powers. Either way, you hated fighting him. You ended up with sand everywhere, and it took two or more showers and loads of laundry to really get all that sand out. 

Reasons you lived in the city, and not near the coast…

"Come on, Sandy, don't do this to me!" You exclaimed as you shot out a web, only for his body to warp, allowing the string of webs to pass through him, “Sandy, you’re gonna get sand in my boots!"

This Sandman never spoke back to you, only shooting blasts of heavy sand towards you, but you easily maneuvered away from his attacks. He also seemed to… Glitch. Weird.

You were majorly confused, but you continued to fight, only stopping briefly when you saw something in the corner of your vision. Turning, you had watched as a colorful portal-like thing appeared, but before you could see what was going to emerge from the portal, you were harshly struck by a bunch of sand that had been formed into a fist. 

You had been knocked to the ground, a bit out of breath, but when you went to stand, you found yourself staring at the figure fighting the Sandman. This figure was practically flying through the air, attacking Sandman with his sharp claws, his suit that familiar red and blue, and neon webs. To say you were awestruck was an understatement. You didn't know who this person was or where they came from, but he was not your Spider-Man, that was for sure. Before you knew it, you were standing, and this other Spider-person - you were hoping - had trapped Sandman in this odd rope.

You remembered when he first turned to you, his stance tall, and intimidating. You took the time to take him in, seeing the Spider-like symbol on the chest of his suit, somewhat menacing. You didn't fully trust this man, whomever he was, even if he did save you. Or maybe he didn’t mean to save you? Really, though, you didn't need saving - ever.

You continued to stare at him, keeping your mask on, - you hoped your mask expressed the confusion and distrust that you were feeling - and as you crossed your arms, you spoke, "Thanks, whoever you are, but I had that handled."

"It didn't look like it." He spoke, his voice deep, gruff; it surprised you. This Spider-person - you could only assume - then turned to Sandman. 

You watched him silently as he began to drag Sandman towards the open, colorful, swirling portal. And though you were still wary, curiosity was quickly taking control and you soon found yourself following him. But the man stopped suddenly, his head turning towards you. He said nothing, as if trying to intimidate you into going away or something, but that wasn't going to work on you.

You had so many questions, but you stuck to one for now, "Who are you?"

He didn't answer, instead ignoring you and dragging the struggling Sandman away; the portal closed not long after. 

You thought that would be your last encounter with him, but he always came back. You liked to think that he came back to see you, but with every misplaced, glitching villain you fought, he'd show up to finish the fight. 

You never thought that he'd become somewhat of a friend throughout his visits. He would talk to you, even after you caught the anomaly and you believed he would leave, he'd stay… Sometimes. Honestly, you did most of the talking, but the more you talked with him, the more he seemed to open up around you.

But, as time went on, you noticed that every time Miguel O'Hara returned to your universe, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation. You almost felt giddy. His arrival through that shimmering portal never failed to bring a smile to your face. Thinking of him - the way a growl would leave him as his mask would slip away, his tousled hair, piercing gaze, and the way his toned body moved beneath his suit as he made his way towards you - with such determination and purpose - was enough to melt you into a puddle of gooey spider mush.

The sudden realization that you were falling for Miguel hit you like a train, and you were not strong enough to catch this one.

As weeks turned into months, you began to wonder if perhaps Miguel felt something too. Despite his brooding demeanor and the occasional dismissive glance, there was a certain intensity in his gaze. And every now and then, you'd notice that same gaze lingering on you a little longer than usual. Though, it was quite possible you imagined it all, wishful thinking. 

There were times when Miguel's walls resurfaced, seemingly impenetrable; reverting to how he was when you first met him. And you had no idea if that was just how Miguel was with his friends; you never got to meet the other Spider-people he hung out with, and as a result, never heard about Miguel through their eyes and their interactions with him. But, just when you thought he was about to retreat entirely into his shell, a quick glance or even just a small conversation with him would reignite that hopeful spark within you.

~~~

You continued to stare up at the dark sky. The communicator on your wrist heavy, as you sighed. The communicator didn't do the same things Miguel's and the other Spider-people's did. It was just a communicator. You were happy to receive it, but still somewhat bummed. You wanted to join the Spider Society, help them catch and stop anomalies, be part of a community that understood you, but Miguel was adamant that you stay in your own universe. You didn't understand, and he never explained why he didn't want you to join. Either, he ignored you or he shut down the conversation. You thought that maybe he didn't think you were ready, so you tried your best to try to show him that you could help. Prove to him that you were worthy enough to join his team.

You had called Miguel not too long ago, having caught yet another anomaly. You wondered why so many were able to enter your universe. You didn't know who the anomaly was, either your universe didn't have them or you hadn't met your version of them yet, but it was obvious that they didn't belong in your universe. They were glitching every now and then, and muttering about Spider-Man. You didn't have to wait long though, your head turning at the sound of the portal opening. 

A grin quickly spread across your face - pulling your mask off - you jumped up onto your feet, precariously standing on the edge of the ledge that you had been sitting on. Miguel huffed as he spotted you, "Where is he?"

"What? No 'hello?' So buisnessy today." You teased, clasping your hands together behind your back as you jumped down from the ledge onto the pebbles that scattered the rooftop. But when Miguel continued to just stare at you, you sighed deeply, gesturing to behind you with a nod of your head, "He's on the side of that building," You answered, watching as he made his way over to your side, peering over at the anomaly that was stuck to the side of the building across the street with your webs. "You know," You began, looking up at him, "It was pretty difficult to catch this one..."

"Your point?" He asked as you rocked on the balls of your feet.

"I'd be a pretty good member of that Spider Society-"

"No, Y/N," He quickly shut you down, turning his head to stare at you - the eyes of his mask narrowing, as he pointed a finger at you. "The answer will always be 'no.' And that’s final."

You continued to smile, though disappointed, "You keep saying that…" You trailed off, only for him to sigh deeply, reaching up to pull his mask off.

You had only seen his face a couple of times, and every time his mask slipped off, you always found yourself admiring him. When he had first taken his mask off - when you assumed that he had deemed you trustworthy enough - you were a bit shocked. You remembered thinking about how gorgeous he was. That dark brown hair, dark eyes, tan skin, and even the slight point to his canines. He was definitely the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. It was like he was sculpted by the gods or something. And you couldn't help it, the attraction that you felt for that man; even when you were just friends.

Even now, as you looked up at him, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose while the other rested firmly on his hip, a sigh of frustration escaping his lips, he was still breathtaking. The glow of the city lights danced across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his high cheekbones and casting soft shadows that only seemed to deepen his striking features.

'So pretty,' You thought.

"That’s because it’s true. I won't change my mind. Ever, Y/N." He dropped his hand back down to his side, his dark eyes meeting yours in a somewhat harsh stare. "You are never joining."

You hummed, pursing your lips as you nodded, turning your eyes back to the city lights still glimmering beside you. "I have been doing my best in trying to prove to you that I can be a good member." You turned your gaze back up at him, "I'm serious about this, Miggy. I just want to help."

"I'm serious about this too, and I understand you want to help, I appreciate that, but I've made myself clear many times." He muttered, "And don't call me that."

You huffed in return, crossing your arms, "It's not all that clear to me." You began, "Why can't I join?"

Miguel narrowed his eyes, his jaw clenching, "I don't have to explain myself to you."

"No, I just want to know why, Miguel," You pressed, your voice edged with urgency. Your mind raced, before you continued, "I've been trying to prove to you for months, but nothing seems good enough for you," You argued stubbornly, your patience wearing thin. "And every single time I ask you to let me join, you always give me the same answer. But you never actually give me a reason as to why I can't join, and honestly, it's getting kind of annoying, I thought you trusted me-"

"Maldita sea, Y/N, it's because you are not like the others!" His voice cut through the air like a blade, interrupting you and your thoughts. "You weren't supposed to become your universe's Spider-Woman."

"What?" You breathed out, your heart pounding in confusion as you looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed, "I know I'm not supposed to be Spider-Woman, but what- what are you saying?"

"Your canon doesn't link with any of the others. You are the first of your universe…" Miguel ran a hand through his hair, agitation evident in every tense line of his body, "This universe's Peter Parker wasn't supposed to die. You were. But, you - somehow - you changed your fate. That is why you can’t join, I have no idea what would happen if you did. It could be dangerous for you and possibly anyone you come in contact with."

The weight of his words settled over you like a heavy shroud. A shiver ran down your spine. Miguel in the past had told you about the canons, but this wasn't just about the risks or the dangers of your unpredictable existence - it was about a twist of fate that had rewritten the rules of your universe, casting you into a role that wasn't meant for you. And, on top of that, Peter would have still been alive... If it weren't for you. 

Again, that survivor's guilt was eating away at you.

"I tried to warn him," You began, your voice trembling with emotion, tears threatening to spill from your eyes, your bottom lip quivered. "To get him to leave me there, but he wouldn't listen." You sniffled, looking away from Miguel, your eyes landing on the pebbles on the rooftop. You could still see him, your Spidey, laying limp in your arms… "He was Spider-Man, of course he wasn't going to let me die."

Miguel watched as the salty tears began to spill from your eyes, falling down your cheeks, his expression remaining stern, but his eyes betrayed him. He didn't mean to make you cry; that was not his intention. He hated seeing you like this, the pain etched on your face. He clenched his fists, struggling with the urge to reach out for you.

“Y/N-”

“No,” You whispered, shaking your head as you took a shaky step back, then another. “Maybe… Maybe you’re right,” You murmured, your voice barely audible. “I’ve already ruined enough in my world. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t ruin yours, too.” You wrapped your arms around yourself as you avoided his gaze, your voice breaking. “I don’t even know if being near me is putting you in danger, Miguel.”

Miguel’s eyes softened, his resolve wavering as he took a step toward you. He reached out, his fingers brushing the air between you, but you moved away, climbing up onto the ledge of the building.

“Y/N-” His voice was sharper now, but you shook your head, your back to him.

“I think it’s better if I just go home,” You said, your tone distant and resigned, the wind carrying your words away. Before he could stop you, you pushed off the ledge, stepping off into the open air.

Miguel surged forward. His heart thundered in his chest as he rushed to the edge, expecting to see you plummeting toward the streets below. But when he looked down, you were gone. He froze, his sharp gaze darting around, scanning every rooftop, every shadow. Nothing. You’d disappeared.

A deep, frustrated sigh escaped him, his hands gripping the ledge so tightly his knuckles turned white under his suit. His jaw clenched, and he shut his eyes for a moment, fighting the surge of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He hated that he’d upset you. But what gnawed at him even more was the realization that he cared far more than he’d ever intended. Before he could fully process the knot of emotions tightening in his chest, Lyla materialized beside him.

“Ooh, wrong move, boss man,” She winced, her tone dripping with mock sympathy as she adjusted her heart-shaped glasses.

Miguel's nostrils flared, and he huffed, already opening the controls on his watch. "Shut up, Lyla," He snapped, his voice rough as he navigated the interface. His fingers moved with precision, inputting commands to track your communicator.

Lyla floated closer, her arms crossed as she tilted her head in mock thought. “Wait, wait, wait. Are you tracking her now? After that mess? I mean, you did just emotionally steamroll her, so maybe chasing her down isn’t the brightest idea.” She raised an eyebrow. “Not exactly the best way to apologize.”

Miguel grumbled under his breath, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “Not. Now.” He growled, his eyes fixed on the screen as the device began to triangulate your location.

Lyla sighed dramatically, throwing her hands up. “Fine, but let the record show, I warned you. Big time.”

Miguel ignored her, his jaw clenched as he growled softly, waiting for the tracker to lock on. The tension in his posture was palpable, his mind racing. He didn’t care if it wasn’t a good idea. He needed to find you - and fix this.

~~~

The soft strains of Mozart, and the smell of your lavender candle, filled your apartment. You sat curled up in your small hammock, the intricate webbing swaying with each shift of your weight. A steaming cup of tea rested in your hands as you brought the rim to your lips, blowing gently before taking a sip.

You shut your eyes and let out a long sigh, allowing the calm to wash over you. Tonight had been too much - Miguel’s words, the weight of your guilt, the ever-looming question of your purpose… All of it. For now, you decided, you’d forget the night, for now. You would forget the ache in your heart. Just Mozart and your tea.

And then there was a knock at the door.

Your eyes snapped open, a flicker of annoyance crossing your features. “Really? Now?” You placed your tea on the small table beside you and stepped out of the hammock, your feet hitting the hardwood floor with a soft thud.

Padding toward the door, you hesitated, who was going to be behind your door? Hopefully not Miguel, you did not want to see him. For now, at least. Frowning, you peeked through the peephole.

Miguel.

He stood there, imposing as ever, his broad shoulders practically taking up the entire frame of your door. His face was unreadable, though his jaw was set.

You debated ignoring him, pretending you weren’t home. But you knew better. You knew that he knew that you were there.

How did he found out where you lived though..?

With a resigned sigh, you unlocked the door and opened it just enough to lean against the frame, crossing your arms as you looked up at him. “What do you want, Miguel?” You asked, your voice carrying the sharp edge of exhaustion and annoyance.

For a moment, he didn’t answer, his deep crimson eyes scanning your face as if searching for something. Then, in a voice quieter than you expected, he said, “I came to apologize.”

You stared at him, narrowing your eyes slightly as you searched his face. His red eyes uncharacteristically flickered from your gaze, dropping to the floor. You pursed your lips, before leaving, opening the door further for him to enter. 

You may regret this, but an apology sounded nice.

Miguel stood awkwardly in your doorway before he took a hesitant step inside. His eyes darted around, cataloging every detail of your small apartment. The warm glow of candles illuminated the space, casting soft shadows that danced across the walls; along with the two table lamps.

The potted plants along the wooden window bench caught his attention first - vibrant greens that seemed to thrive in your care. His gaze shifted to the hammock, the webbing unmistakably your handiwork, swaying gently in the faint draft from the open door; he moved to shut it.

As you moved to retrieve your tea, his eyes wandered to the framed photos on a nearby shelf almost filled with books. He paused when he saw the image of you and your family. Then, his gaze fell on the wall near the hammock, nearly covered in Polaroids. Most of them featured you with him. He remembered that night, after fighting a Venom anomaly, you had taken a bunch of polaroids of him and yourself. Most of the pictures that had him in them, featured his usual brooding expression.

And finally, his eyes settled on the framed photo that sat apart from the rest. You and your Spider-Man. Miguel’s jaw tightened ever so slightly. 

You returned with your tea, cradling the mug as you stood by the hammock. You followed his gaze, noticing the framed photo he lingered on. Your chest tightened slightly, but you pushed the feeling aside.

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” You said, breaking the silence.

Miguel turned his head toward you, his crimson eyes softening as they met yours. “It suits you,” He said simply.

You raised a brow, still suspicious of his intentions. “How did you even find me, Miguel? I don’t remember giving you my address.”

He cleared his throat, feeling incredibly awkward as you continued to stare at him. The tension between you both was unnerving. “You didn’t. I… May have tracked your communicator.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, and you shot him an incredulous look. “You tracked me? Are you serious?”

“I had to make sure you were safe,” He replied, his voice firm but not defensive. “You disappeared, and I-” He stopped himself, his brows knitting together as if he was carefully choosing his words. “I needed to fix things.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Miguel, you can’t just-”

“I know,” He interrupted, his tone gentler now. “It wasn’t right. But I wasn’t going to let you vanish without telling you that I am sorry.”

You stared at him for a long moment, his towering figure seeming less intimidating in the soft light of your apartment. The weight of his words hung in the air, and though you wanted to stay angry, there was a sincerity in his eyes that was hard to ignore.

Finally, you gestured to the couch. “Sit. If you’re going to apologize, you might as well do it properly.”

Miguel hesitated for a brief second before nodding. As he moved to the couch, he seemed almost out of place in your cozy living room, his broad shoulders and sheer size dwarfing the small piece of furniture. He lowered himself carefully onto the cushions, his knees nearly brushing the coffee table, and rested his forearms on his thighs.

You sat across from him, cradling your tea in your hands, your gaze steady but wary. “Alright,” You said quietly. “Start talking.”

Miguel’s jaw tightened, and he exhaled deeply before running a hand through his hair. “I’m not good at this…” He muttered, his voice low and gruff. He hesitated, frustration flickering in his eyes as he searched for the right words. “Carajo… I am not good at… Feelings.”

You let out a soft huff, rolling your eyes as you moved to lean against the wall. Taking a sip of your tea, you gave him a pointed look. “You don’t say,” you quipped dryly, your tone laced with a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“I know I’ve been… Harsh,” He admitted, his voice quieter now. “It’s just-” He paused, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before meeting yours again. “I don’t want to make mistakes that could cost everything. But in trying to protect you… I hurt you instead.” Your grip on the mug tightened slightly, and you let his words hang in the air, the sincerity in his tone catching you off guard. “What I’m trying to say is… Is that I… Care.”

Your eyes snapped to his, your surprise evident. Of all the things you expected, hearing Miguel O’Hara admit to caring was not one of them. “Did Lyla tell you to say all of this?” You asked, a mix of suspicion and disbelief coloring your tone.

Miguel let out a soft, humorless chuckle. “No. She told me not to come at all. Said it would only make things worse,” He said, his lips quirking in a faint, almost self-deprecating smile. “This is all me.”

You sighed, breaking eye contact and looking off to the side. The exhaustion from the night - and everything else - clung to you like a heavy fog.

Miguel’s gaze softened as he watched you. The warm glow of the candles flickered across your face, highlighting the soft curve of your features and the faint furrow in your brow. You were dressed in casual comfy clothes. Simple and comfortable, so different from the suit he was used to seeing you in. It was this side of you, so unguarded and real, that made his chest tighten painfully. You were breathtaking, and yet he hated himself for being the reason you seemed so worn down.

Inside, a tempest raged within him. Miguel had always kept his distance, convinced it was safer - for the both of you. Yet, from the moment he met you, you had stirred something deep within him, something he hadn’t felt in years. With every shared moment, that feeling had grown stronger, harder to suppress. Now, sitting here in the warmth of your space, the weight of his responsibilities, the risks, and the danger you both faced felt irrelevant. For once, the thought of denying how much he cared for you seemed utterly impossible.

It was hard to let himself open up, to love someone again…

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice low and tired. “Why do you care?” Miguel opened his mouth to answer, but you continued before he could. “I’ve known you for months,” You continued, “And one minute, you’re… Funny, kind, and almost easy to be around. Then the next, you shut down and act like I’m some nuisance you’re stuck dealing with. It’s confusing, Miguel. You’re confusing.” You shook your head, your fingers gripping the mug tightly. “What you said to me earlier - it hurt more than you realize. For years, I’ve been doing everything I can for this city, trying to make up for what I feel is my fault. I’ve been fighting to heal, to move forward, but it’s exhausting. And on top of that, I’m tired of trying to figure you out. I’m tired of never knowing where I stand with you.” You paused, swallowing thickly before you drew in a shaky breath. “But… Your apology is a good start,” You admitted, your voice softening slightly. You took another sip of your tea. You then glanced back at him, your eyes searching his face. “So, I’m asking again. Why do you care?”

Miguel exhaled sharply, his hand running through his hair, and for a moment, the silence stretched between you.

“I don’t know how to say this right,” he began, his voice low, almost hesitant. “But you’re not some nuisance. You’ve never been that. If anything, you’ve been… A distraction. Not in a bad way-” He stopped himself, shaking his head, his fingers flexing like he was trying to grasp the words. “You make me feel things I’ve tried to bury. Things I told myself I couldn’t afford to feel.” His crimson eyes lifted to meet yours. “I push you away because I don’t know how not to. I’ve seen what happens when I let people in, when I let myself care too much. I’ve lost too much, and I’m terrified of losing again.” He leaned back slightly, his hand scrubbing over his face before he continued, his tone softening. “But with you… It’s different.” He sat up straighter, his broad shoulders tense as he finished, “I care because I can’t not care. You’ve made it impossible for me to not care about you. Even if it scares the hell out of me.”

The words struck you like a tidal wave. For a moment, your mind went blank, the weight of his confession too overwhelming to process all at once. You stared at him, your hands trembling as you set the mug down on the table with a soft clink. He cared about you. Not just in a passing, obligatory way, but in a way that had kept him up at night, that had pulled him into the storm of vulnerability he had been so desperate to avoid.

The man who had spent months keeping you at arm’s length, who had built walls so high you thought you’d never get over them, was now sitting in your living room, confessing that he cared about you in a way that terrified him.

“I…” You started, your voice catching before you swallowed hard, trying again. “I didn’t expect that. Any of that.” You folded your hands in front of yourself to still their shaking, your breath unsteady. “Do you know how hard it’s been to figure you out? How exhausting it’s been to… To care about someone who feels so out of reach? And now you’re telling me this, and-” You stopped yourself, exhaling sharply, your emotions threatening to bubble over.

Miguel’s expression softened slightly, “I know I haven’t made it easy,” He admitted, his voice quieter now. “And I’m not asking you to forgive me overnight. I just… I needed you to know. You deserve to know.”

You met his gaze, the sincerity in his crimson eyes rooting you in place. For months, you’d wondered, doubted, questioned where you stood with him, and now… Now you finally had an answer. It didn’t erase the hurt, the confusion, but it was a step forward, a crack in the walls he’d built so high around himself.

“Okay,” You said finally, your voice steadying as you exhaled. “It’s a lot to take in, Miguel. But… I appreciate you telling me. I needed to hear it.” Setting your tea down on the small table, you crossed your arms and turned to face him fully. “But how do I know you’re not just going to go back to being…” You narrowed your eyes, gesturing vaguely in his direction with a wave of your hand. “Closed off and rude? I mean, you’ve done it before. You know you do it.” Your gaze held his, challenging. “How can I be sure this isn’t just going to be another time where you go all hot and cold again?” You recrossed your arms, your expression a mixture of skepticism and hurt. “Because I can’t keep doing that. My heart can’t take it. I need to know that you’re serious.”

The corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly, “I don’t expect you to believe me right away,” He began, “But I’ll prove it to you. No more pushing you away. No more excuses.” He leaned forward slightly, his gaze unwavering as it met yours. “You deserve better than that, and I’m going to make sure you know just how much you mean to me.”

You gave a small nod, the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at your lips despite the storm still swirling in your chest. “We’ll see then,” You said softly, your words carrying both caution and hope. For the first time in months, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you were starting to understand Miguel O’Hara.

~~~

Main Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

[witchygagirlwrites]

Broken Bonds-Part 15

Former(ish) Greg "Mouse" Gerwitz x Reader, BabyDaddy! Jay Halstead x Reader

While Jay is still out on vacation time after you gave birth your emotions and hormones are all over the place. You're trying to find a new normal, line up a daycare for Addy and get back into the gym all the while fighting what's growing in your own heart

Was it weird that you weren’t with the father of your child yet he hadn’t really left your side in months? You were fairly certain it was weird that even though you’d given birth to said child and circumstances could change you were terrified of not having his presence nearby because you’d grown so used to him being right there.

For the first week of Addy’s life you’d barely wanted to leave your apartment and hadn’t allowed anyone but Stella to cross the threshold outside of you and Jay. He’d stayed right there, only leaving when Stella was over and even then it was just long enough to do laundry at his place. You were beginning to worry about the price of his rent versus how much he was actually using his place.

The sudden rush of emotions and hormones after birth was killing you also. Dr Asher assured it was normal so once the first week passed you started easing your way back into the gym. Not only to relieve stress and work off some of that pent up energy but also to start getting back into shape for the job. You missed boxing. 

Jay always came with you, which proved to be more of a challenge than anything. It was distracting a bit when he was walking around the gym with Addy in a baby sling, talking quietly to her or feeding her. You told yourself he was being supportive and also acknowledging that you simply weren’t quite to the point of wanting her out of your eyesight which you weren’t.  It wasn’t his fault that your head was a jumbled mess.

You heard Stella come in the door and talk to Jay and Addy before heading your way where you were working at a heavy bag. “Baby girl. Are you supposed to be going that heavy this soon?” she asked and you looked over your shoulder at her “Doc said just listen to my body and I’ll be fine” she nodded “Ok then. I see my niece is doing amazing” you grinned, pushing hair that had fallen down out of your face “Of course. She has amazing parents”

“That is true. Are you two going to check out the daycare where Chloe works?” you and Jay had an appointment the following day to go and do a walk through and meet everyone but from running a background check on employees, owners and all other parents you had a fairly good feeling about it. You nodded “We’re going tomorrow” 

“Have you talked to him yet about the whole staying at your place thing?” she asked, cutting her eyes over at Jay. You followed her line of sight and smiled when you saw him and Kelly gushing over Addy “No” she looked back at you “Bad timing or simply because you don’t want to?” 

You opened your mouth to protest that of course it was just bad timing. You knew you had to talk to Jay. You both had to get used to being alone again, with and without Addy. He wasn’t your husband, hell he wasn’t your boyfriend. You were just his child’s mother and a friend. The two of you never should’ve been sharing a bed while you were pregnant and he shouldn’t have been sleeping on your couch for the last week but the idea of Jay not being there terrified you and the fact of it terrifying you terrified you. 

At the look on your face she grimaced “Do we need to talk later?” you sighed, looking at Jay again “Stel, I don’t know if you can get your hands on a ladder deep enough to get me out of this hole” she shook her head “Of course I can. If you need me, call me” then kissed your cheek and called across the gym “Get her home Halstead! She needs a shower and a nap”

“Which one?” Jay asked with a smirk and Stella laughed “Both of my girls”  Jay grinned “Yes ma’am”

You got out of the shower and could hear Jay’s voice over the baby monitor where he was talking to Addy. That wasn’t anything new. He’d been talking to her since she started moving in the womb. You walked out of the bathroom and heard him tell her “You’re the absolute best part of me” and felt a smile slip onto your face. 

You walked out of your room into the living room and saw him standing in her room, right over her crib. He was leaning down just enough he could trace patterns on her stomach like he used to do on yours while she was still in it. “She asleep?” you whispered and he nodded. You stepped back out of the room and he followed you, not quite closing the door behind himself.

You turned around to face him and hadn’t realized he was quite that close. Your hands flew up to brace yourself on his chest and his hands went to your waist to keep you from stumbling. “Thanks” you mumbled and he smirked “Anytime” his eyes flickered from yours down to your lips then back up before he let his hands drop from your waist and cleared his throat “How are you feeling now that you’re able to get back in the gym?”

You knew Jay was worrying about your mental health. He’d taken special care when researching postpartum depression to ensure he didn’t miss any warning signs. You nodded “I’m good. I am” he smiled “Ok, just know you can tell me if you aren’t” “I know I can Jay. By this point there isn’t a lot I feel like I couldn’t tell you” his smile deepend “Good”

Times like this it was hard reminding yourself he was just Adeline’s father. These emotions, these feelings. They were the love you had for him as your partner, friend and daughter’s father. No matter how fast your heart started beating lately when he kissed your temple or how it stopped you in your tracks some mornings if you came out looking for coffee to find him shirtless in your kitchen.

You knew you still loved Mouse, how you’d felt when he called four days after you had Addy to talk to you was proof of that. That love never wavered in your mind or heart which made these feelings that were starting to pop up towards Jay even more confusing. It was just the rush of everything after giving birth. It would even out as your body healed, right?

You hadn’t realized you’d gone silent until Jay bought one hand up to gently cup the side of your face, staring in your eyes as he did so. “Are you sure you’re ok?” you swallowed hard then nodded “I’m good, I’m um I’m gonna go to bed” he smiled and leaned forward to press a kiss to your head “Goodnight, see ya for midnight feedings” you laughed lightly “I’ll be the one with the baby on me” “The gorgeous one with the beautiful baby that looks like her? Yeah, don’t think I’d miss you two” he teased with a wink.

“Night Jay” you whispered then retreated to your room. You just needed to catch your breath. The last week or so had just been insane, birth was a lot on your body.  

You grabbed your phone and sent Stella a text: Got that ladder yet? She texted back Ready & waiting you laughed lightly Our meeting at the daycare is a 10. Can you do lunch? She quickly texted back You got it babe you let out a breath and tossed your phone onto the bed. Damn here you were missing your job. At least Voight was just a pain in the ass.

You were dressing Addy for the cold Chicago weather while Jay got the truck warmed up. She was wearing an adorable little long sleeved outfit Kevin had gotten her complete with a bow headband to match. She grabbed your pinkie and cooed which pulled a smile to your face. No matter the chaos, it was worth it. She was worth it. “What would I do without you love?” you whispered and she cooed a little louder about the time the door opened and you felt a rush of cool wind whip across the living room before Jay’s voice followed “Please tell me you and her are bundled up because it is cold”

You laughed lightly “Shoot Addy, guess the sundresses are a no?” he walked around the corner shaking his head “Funny, I’m just making sure you know how cold it is” you nodded “It’s the last part of February, first part of March in Chicago Jay. I’ve lived here my whole life. I know how the weather gets. Grab me the carrier cover so I can zip it over her”

He passed you the cover then eyed the coat you were wearing. “You need a thicker coat” you raised an eyebrow “This is plenty thick enough” “It's really cold” he argued and you laughed “This coat is fine Jay. Get your daughter ready and let's roll” 

________________

Jay parked his truck in the designated area for parents and cut his eyes at you “Do we really gotta do this?” you nodded “Considering you go back to work in a couple days and I go back in a few weeks, I’d say yes. It’s the top daycare around. Everyone has good background checks. Close enough to the precinct and fifty one it wouldn’t take us or Stella long to get to her plus Chloe Cruz works here as the supervisor”

He nodded slowly “I know, I know but baby..she’s so little” you laughed lightly “She won’t start until she’s six weeks old. That’s a normal start time for a child with two working parents”  “Ok” he finally agreed then killed the engine. He grabbed her carrier out then walked out to meet you by the passenger side door. He held her between the two of you, so you and her were closest to the building and he was closest to the road as you walked inside.

The receptionist was a twenty six year old woman named Marlene Jacobs who had a child in the daycare herself. Her husband Donald Jacobs was a marine that was currently deployed. They both had clean records and from what you could tell they had a fairly happy marriage,ok maybe Mouse had taught you a little too much.

She stood when she saw the two of you “Detective Kidd? Detective Halstead?” you nodded with a smile “Yes ma’am” she looked towards the carrier “And this must be Adeline” Jay smiled “Yes it is” she looked between the two of you “Well we’ll do the walk through. You’ll meet with the supervisor which I believe you know, Mrs Cruz?” You laughed “Yes, we know Chloe” Marlene laughed “Even better. If you choose to accept the spot, you’ll just need to fill out to paperwork and choose a start date”

You cut your eyes at Jay and he nodded “Lead the way” you told her with a smile. She offered to let you leave Addy’s carrier at her desk so Jay carried her in his arms and slipped his hand into yours as he followed Marlene through the hall to Chloe’s office. You felt him squeeze your hand gently so you whispered “She’ll be fine” a small smile slipped onto his face at your assurance.

______________

“So..let me hear it” you and Jay were back in his truck, Addy was in her carrier fast asleep and the two of you were headed to meet Kelly and Stella for lunch. Stella’s idea was to bring Kelly as a barrier for Jay so you and her could talk. He cut his eyes at you then looked back at the road, a smirk slipping onto his face “You were right” he all but mumbled. You held a hand to your ear and leaned across the console “What was that?” he laughed “You were right Y/N..like always. The daycare is a pretty good place and it’s gonna be good for Addy”

You grinned triumphantly “Just remember that so when she is a teenager and comes over to your house whining how mom is so mean you can remind her that I’m usually right” he shook his head “Yeah, I’ll remember that” 

You leaned back across the console and checked the text from Stella “Her and Kelly are gonna grab a booth” he nodded “Sounds good” you cut your eyes at him and not for the first time found yourself thinking just how good Jay looked as a dad. Even bundled up in winter clothes, you could see the chain of his st michael pendant and his eyes kept flicking up to the rearview mirror. You knew how women supposedly glowed when they became mothers, you didn’t see yourself as glowing but you’ll be damned if Jay wasn’t meant to be a dad.

One of those smiles you loved of his slipped onto his face “Ya know it’s kinda weird to stare at me while I’m driving. Turn your butt around and stare at our baby if you wanna stare at a face that looks like mine”  you shook your head “You are so full of yourself Halstead!” he cut his eyes at you and grinned “You’ve got to like me at least a little sweetheart. Adeline is proof of that” and you felt your face warm. “Damn you Jay” he laughed lightly “I’m sorry but it was too easy” you shook your head “I don’t know why I haven’t ever shot you” “Too late to consider it now” he teased.

____________

When you got to the restaurant you slid into the booth putting yourself right next to Stella and Addy between you and Jay with Kelly on the other side of Stella. “How was the daycare?” she asked and you looked at Jay with a smile so he rolled his eyes “She was right, I was wrong”

“They normally are right and we normally are wrong” Kelly laughed, looking over the menu. The two of them struck up a conversation so Stella saw that as an opening “What is going on?” she whispered and you shook your head “I gotta use the bathroom. Kel, scoot” he didn’t ask and just stood up to let Stella then you out.

Jay watched you with a curious expression so you gave him a small smile “I’ll be right back” and told him what you wanted. Stella did the same to Kelly and grabbed your arm before the two of you headed for the bathroom.

You weaved your way through the crowd and spotted the bathroom and made a beeline for it. The door was luckily unlocked and it was one of those that was just one room so you could lock the door.She turned to you the moment it was locked “Speak” you let out a huff of air “I can’t talk to him about him needing to quit staying at my house. Every time I try, he looks at me and smiles or I walk into the room and he’s talking to Addy or taking care of her in some way and the words die on my lips. I know, I know he needs to start fully staying at his place. We both have got to learn to be on our own. With and without Addy but …” you scrubbed a hand down your face “I’ve gotten used to him being there and it’s so damn selfish Stel but I don’t want to lose how safe and secure I feel when Jay is there. I know Addy is safe, I know I’m safe. I know nothing will hurt either of us with him there but at the same time if Mouse calls and he’s there I’m locking myself in my room or Addy’s room so Mouse can’t hear him by accident”

She nodded slowly “Honey, is it just that you feel safe or are you starting to develop feelings for Jay?” you felt tears spring to your eyes “I don’t know..I know for a fact that I love Mouse.I am in love with him but the idea of losing Jay…the way it hurts..Stel I don’t know if that’s just the father of my child hurt and I don’t know what to do. There’s still months until Mouse will be stateside then that’s a visit and he’s off to Georgia for eighteen weeks. I don’t want to hurt him anymore, I don’t want to hurt Jay..maybe I should just ask Jay to stop staying with me and fully focus on Addy until I go back to work then go from there?”

She wrapped both arms around you and pulled you into her arms “Honeybee, you need to stop worrying about hurting them. You’re a good mom already, you are focusing on her by showing her to have care for other people.Maybe you could present it like that to Jay? You just want to make sure you’re both used to having her by yourselves? That way maybe he doesn’t feel like you’re freezing him out again?”

You sniffled against her chest “I don’t want his life to freeze for me because I’m confused…my hormones and emotions are so far off the chart..hell I miss Voight yelling at us over this”  she laughed lightly “It’s gonna be ok. Somehow it’s gonna be ok”

____________

You followed Stella back to the table and knew Jay would notice your face the moment he looked at you. He looked up when you two got closer and his eyes narrowed. When you slid in he leaned over Addy’s carrier “What’s wrong?” you shook your head “Hormones. I’m ok. I promise” he gently grabbed your chin with one hand, ignoring the fact that you were in public and in front of your sister and brother in law as he studied your face “Talk to me, please” 

You cut your eyes at Stella to see her and Kelly were looking at the menu, acting like they weren’t looking at the two of you so you smiled slightly “Later” he held your face for  a moment later then finally nodded “Later then” Addy started moving around so you scooted over to be able to get her out of the carrier and Stella squealed lighty “My niece is awake” 

Jay automatically moved to get her a bottle and a dry diaper. You leaned up to look at Kelly who was already standing up “Thanks Kel” Stella went to stand to walk with you but this time Jay stood up “I’ll walk her Stel” you shot her a look when she thanked him then fell in step with him to the bathroom,Addy making little noises the closer he got.

You expected him to wait outside the door considering the changing table was in the women’s bathroom but when you moved to push the door open he reached over your head to hold it open for you then stepped in after you. You cut your eyes at him while you cleaned the changing table with a wipe “I could’ve done this by myself Jay” “Yeah well I’d rather do it with you. Besides I want to know why you were crying” 

You laid Adeline down and started undoing her clothes to get access to her diaper. “I’m fine Jay. It’s just extra hormones and crap finding their way out. I needed to talk and there is still a thing or two I can’t talk to you about” you felt him step up behind you as you took the wet diaper off her, wiped her down and added powder before putting a new diaper on and started to redress her “Like what? What is bothering you to the point that you were teasing me on the way here then you end up crying in the bathroom? That pretty much tells me I did something”

You ran your hand over Addy’s curls and she made a little noise which made you and him both smile  “Jay I just have a lot going on in my head but I promise you from the bottom of my heart that you have done nothing wrong.You have been nothing but amazing to me, a lot more amazing then I probably deserve and you have been an absolute dream as a father to her. There’s nothing I love more than seeing you with her. I promise if it gets to where I think I need your help with it I will tag you in partner” he nodded and leaned down to press a kiss to your temple “Keep that promise. I’m not losing you and I damn sure am not letting her lose her mom” 

You picked her up and turned to transfer her to his arms “Well right now she probably needs a bottle and her aunt Stella is dying to talk to her” a smile slipped onto his face “Well let's get back” 

When all of you started to leave the restaurant Stella hugged you and whispered “If you need anything, moral support..me to come over while you talk to him..anything call me” you nodded “Love you Stella” she smiled “Love you too” she kissed your cheek then cut her eyes at Jay “And I guess I kinda like you since you treat my sister fairly and you’re a good dad to my niece”

Jay raised both eyebrows and Kelly laughed “Take it Jay. It’s as close to a compliment as it gets. Y/N couldn’t stand me the first few months me and Stel dated. Be glad Addy is the buffer” you acted like you were offended “It’s not that I couldn’t stand you Severide, I just didn’t want anyone screwing with my sister’s emotions and it would look really bad for a detective with the CPD to murder a lieutenant with the CFD” 

Both men looked between you and Stella then Jay raised Addy’s carrier to look at her “Sweetheart daddy loves you so much and I’m so glad you’re a daddy's girl because that means Aunt Stella may maim me but won’t actually ever kill me” she winked at him “I don’t care what Y/N says Halstead, you’re smarter than you look”

You shook your head “And on that lovely note, we need to get Addy home. I’ll see you two later. Stel I love you and Kelly you have finally won your way into my heart as well” Stella hugged you once more and Kelly kissed your cheek.

_______________________

You unlocked your apartment door then moved to the side to let Jay in first since he was carrying Addy. He walked in and sat her down on the couch then moved to get her out of it. She was already making little noises and you smiled seeing her reach her tiny hands towards his face. “How did I do all the work and yet she loves you that much?” he looked up from where he was sitting with her in his arms “Don’t act like she doesn’t love her mommy too sweetheart”

You grinned “Yeah but everyone normally loves me more than you, that’s what I’m used to” he shook his head “You’re unbelievable you know that?” you laughed “I’m sorry” and pulled your jacket off, He had already slipped his off too. He watched you walk around the apartment and you knew he was probably wanting to ask again about what all was going on in your head that had led you to crying in the bathroom but you couldn’t face that, not yet.

“Jay?” you turned around and he was already looking at you “Yeah?” you scrubbed a hand across your face “Can we talk? Um, about the whole staying arrangement?” his eyebrows scrunched together for a second like they did when he was trying to figure something out “What do you mean?” you waved a hand around “Jay, how much do you pay for rent versus how much have you stayed at your place since that case with Matthew Riley?” his eyes dropped down to Addy’s small form where she’d fallen back asleep, curled up to his chest “Oh, I-I didn’t realize I overstepped sweetheart” seeing his face fall made your heart crumble in your chest, especially mixed with the way he was holding Addy, looking at her.

“No Jay, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just…we have to get used to being parents without each other. What am I supposed to do if you have to work later over the next few weeks?” he cut his eyes up “I’ll come here as soon as I get off” you smiled slightly “and what about if you want to get Addy used to your place too? I mean you have a room for her there, don’t you want her to be able to use it one day?”

“You and her are welcome in my place any time you want to go there. I don’t even have to be home” you groaned lightly at him having a comeback for everything “And what if you want to date Jay? You’re a man after all. Men have needs and you haven’t had those needs met since we made her. I don’t want to stand in the way of that and it’s not like a woman is going to be ok with you staying with your child’s mother as often as you stay here” 

He shrugged “You’re permanently a part of my life. From the moment you decided you wanted to keep her that meant there was no time you wouldn’t be in my life. If someone can’t be ok with you being in my life, they’re basically saying they’re not ok with her and I’m not dealing with that” you wiped a hand over your face and walked into the kitchen “You are freaking impossible!”

You heard him move and knew he was putting Addy down in her bassinet that he’d pulled out into the living room before he walked over behind you “What is this really about?”  you turned around to face him and took a deep breath “It’s confusing Jay, to my head. We’re not together, I know I love Mouse but you’re here and you’re so good to her and you have been so good to me and there’s so much going on inside me and I don’t can’t separate what’s me and what’s the screwed up parts from giving birth that hasn’t had time to begin to go back to the levels they’re supposed to be at and-and I am so scared of saying or doing something that may cause you or him more pain or may inadvertently hurt Addy because I’m no longer making decisions that affect just me. They affect her too and-and” you hadn’t meant to start crying but the tears started to flow down your face and Jay pulled you to his chest, wrapping both arms around you.

“It’s ok sweetheart. No matter what screwed up thing is going on in your head you’re not gonna hurt me. I can handle it, for you and her..I can handle anything and Mouse has dealt with a lot, he loves you. We can handle it better than either of us can handle thinking you’re hurting yourself to keep from hurting us. As for you hurting Addy? Baby you could never and even if a decision you made did? Her hot headed daddy is right here waiting to help fix it and her equally hot headed aunt isn’t but a phone call away” he ran a hand down your back, swaying slightly like he did when he was trying to soothe Addy. You felt your muscles loosen against him “I’m just tired Jay. I’m constantly worried I’m gonna mess our daughter up because I can’t even make decisions for myself”

He pulled back to look down at you and you half expected to see maybe a teasing look in his eyes but no there was that same look he had when he looked at Addy. Like you were one of the most important things to him “Then let me help. If it’s too much for you, throw some weight on my shoulders. You just gave birth not quite two weeks ago, everything is gonna be a little sideways still. You’ll keep at it in the gym, boxing again will make you feel better. You can start back with Dr Charles, your sessions with him always helped. If you need a night out with Stella or-or Hailey? She’d be more than glad to take you out so she could tease me about the fact that you’ve dated her and not me for the next week. Hitting the firing range helps your stress and you gotta recert anyways, we can do that to give you something to focus on. If you think we need to talk to Dr Asher about anything going on, I’ll wait in the hallway if you want while you talk to her and just be there for moral support or I’ll hold your hand. If you want to tell me right now I won’t judge you on anything. If you want me to start staying at my place more so we can get used to actually co parenting apart that’s one thing but if you’re pushing me away because you’re trying to do that thing again where you think you have to handle everything on your own? I’m not leaving you to it”

More tears slipped free of your eyes and you pushed his chest playfully “Stop being so damn good to me!” he laughed lightly “No, I’m always gonna be good to you. Even when we argue and I know we will because we always do when we’re working and as parents we won’t always see eye to eye. I will always have your back at the end of the day. No matter what” One of his hands went to your face, holding your chin while the other was at your hip, holding you steady. He held your gaze as he repeated “No matter what. Mouse could come back tomorrow and you could be with him and call and say you need me and if he doesn’t like it he better be ready to fight because I’m coming to your side” 

Your eyes flickered from his down to his lips then back up to his eyes, cursing yourself for the fact that your heart was thudding wildly in your chest when memories of what his kiss felt like flashed through your head “Do you think you’d really have to fight him?” you asked quietly and he smiled “Probably not but just wanted to make a point” his hand moved from your chin to cup the side of your face instead “I’ll go through anyone or anything that you and our baby girl needs me to. If Mouse falls in line, great he’s welcome in. You know I love him, I really do but he better know that you’re my girl just as much as Addy is and I will protect you with everything I have” 

“You know you don’t have to be this good to me to be a good father” you laughed and he smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to your right temple “Yeah but you were my partner, friend and other half long before I got you pregnant. Why should I mess that up now?” you shook your head “I love you Jay” he smiled brightly “I love you too Y/N. Now stop worrying about me or Mouse. You and Adeline are what matters the most. Get changed into something comfortable lets watch a movie then if you want me to go home I will or we can figure out a schedule to start getting you and Addy used to me not being here then we can start getting used to her being at my place some”

You nodded slowly “Ok” “Ok” he replied and hesitantly moved his hands away from your hip and face “Whatever you need from me, I’m here” you smiled “I know Jay, I know” you just needed to get through this adjustment period and get back to work then maybe you would feel normal again or at least find a new normal? Or something close to it? Then of course by the time your emotions calmed down Mouse would be stateside and a whole new tidal wave would hit you. One storm at a time.

@desimarie12 @allisonargent144 @nevaehstreater18

Part 16

[l0v3r666]

Mc inserts x TWST characters pt.2

(non-yuu pairings that fit into the plot of twst, if you like this then you might want to look at the first part!)

Savanclaw!Mc x Cater Diamond

Enemies to lovers with your favourite diva!! The two of you compete constantly through magicam and spelldrive, getting progressively pettier until the only solution is to kiss it out.. You’re trying to keep an ear out for your junior, and it just so happens Cater’s sniffing out your plan to go for gold in this year’s tournament. You might as well take the chance to mess with him! It’s so easy to love the face he makes when you give him the slip, and you’re totally making it your wallpaper when this is all over.

“Yo, Babe! If you’re in the same dorm, then you know Ruggie, yeah? We need to have a chat”

“Ohmigod you totally think all beastmen know each other, don’t you?? cancled :)”

Shroud!Mc x Vil Schoenheit

Ids attached himself to engineering and gaming pretty early, but your passion is fully unattainable. You’d clung onto pop idols and the art of stage makeup from an early age. Your longest running interest by far is Vil Schoenheit,, He rescued you from destructive habits and encouraged you to value self improvement. You’ve probably invested millions into his career (every thaumark sent anonymously, you’d die if he started to recognize your attached messages). Supporting Ortho in his SDC audition is your official reason to talk with him, and all the teasing from Idia will be so worth it when your Schoenheit debut palette gets signed! You’ve kept it in mint condition behind glass for years admiring it- and waiting for THE day.

“Mr. Schoenheit? My younger brother performed for you today, and uh, your signature please?”

“Normally I’d send both of you home for this. I’m sure you’re well aware of my paparazzi policy, However, I haven’t seen this particular relic in years! Just what have you done to preserve the quality?”

Pomefiore!Mc x Ruggie Bucchi

You’re #1 in the business of pissing off your parents- shopping copious amounts and then going to school across the country satiated you for awhile, but they’ve done something particularly revenge worthy now. The best scandal you can think of is getting a trashy boytoy to bring home for the break, but you’re not really into idiots.. Ruggie can be a very good actor given the right motivations, and he might even fool you into a real relationship before next semester.

“C’mon it’s not like I’ll need a script, sugar. I’m a natural, scout’s honor!”

“Either way, it won’t hurt to rehearse for convenience :/ Kiss me now so we don’t look stupid later.”

Scarabia!Mc x Floyd leech

God you hate that fish faced idiot >:( It’s bad enough that the housewarden’s moodswings guaranteed your holiday plans were all shot, but now Jamil’s getting hounded by the mafia! It’s your responsibility to get them off his back, but it’s not like you’re enjoying it. Somehow it’s even worse to watch Floyd when he’s playing dumb, and his emotional roller coaster keeps you walking on eggshells. The show must go on though, and if you’ve gotta play “wrestle until the biting stops” then you’ll do it :/

“Floyd, it’s dinner time, and I will tear you a new one if it means you’ll get moving.”

“PLEASEEEE tiger sharky just one more round :( I’ll even give your pen back!!”

Octavinelle!Mc x Kalim Al-Asim

You’re probably one of the most talkative of octavinelle students, and definitely a solid salesman. Kalim’s a prime target for resales and marketing practice, so naturally you join the pop music club. A year of “playing nice for the jackpot” leads you to lie awake at night, terrified that he’ll see through your facade and ditch you- it would cut off your best friendship, you’d be forced to leave the club! At some point you realize you’d stopped selling him things months ago, and your worst nightmare happened right under your nose. You fell in love.

“Hey, that solo was so inspiring! You’re really making progress!”

“It still isn’t on par with yours, though. Are you available to keep practicing after school? I’m sure Jamil would appreciate the break, and I would enjoy the company..”

Staff!Mc x Lilia Vanrouge

Of course your first job would come with some pet bat, it was too good to be true :( Full time at a bits and bobs shop near one of the best schools in the country WITH flexible hours? You must’ve been desperate to accept without reading about your babysitting in the footnote. He comes in everyday during your shift (regardless of the hours you take, it’s like he has a sixth sense), and has the audacity to exist in your space! It’s not like he even does anything to get banned!! He just stands there. Menacingly. You’re waiting for the day where he leaves convincing evidence that he’s there to traffic you or something- because if you didn’t know better you’d think he has a big, fat crush on you.

“Darling, how is the shop? I’ve taken care of those juvenile delinquents for you!”

“Taken care of? Whatever. Get back to class, kid.”

[cozylittleartblog]

worst way to start my new year, thanks. i have a lot of things to say about these companies but i'm tired and just keeping it focused to the pin side of things for this one. do not ever buy pins from these companies, literally ALL of them are stolen from small artists like me. if you want to buy enamel pins, check out etsy, and artist's personal websites and shops! (though even Etsy has some bootleg pins that ship straight from china, so tread carefully…)

Every pin I've designed is, thus far, EXCLUSIVE to my etsy. if you find it anywhere else, it's been ripped off! and once these stupid bootlegs pop up, it's basically a never ending game of whack-a-mole trying to get them all taken down...