#and this happened time and time again and when i tell my therapist shes always like

[lovsome]

big venting ahead :-{

[obsessedwrhys]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Seven x Deadpool!Reader

t/w: loooots of dark humour/jokes, reader is insensitive and an asshole since they're also a supe working at vought, your powers are the exact same as Deadpool (even the skin condition), mention about killing, death, gore, r-pe, n@zis?!?!, alcohol, some intimacy (?). Also reader is gn!!

ᯓ★ here's a version with the boys <3

HOMELANDER

This man hates you so fking much

Has tried to kill you multiple times, he tried lasering you, tearing you in half and even throwing you into the sky but you just always manage to come back like the damn plague

Eventually he gives up trying to kill you and just had to deal with the fact you'll be kept alive... just temporarily though... he's still looking for ways to kill you

However, your powers gave you dozens of advantages when around Homelander.

He can be having a meeting about something serious and everyone would be listening to him due to their fear towards him, then there's you who'd be doing your own thing and just shout out unrelated things like "Donald Trump just blocked me on Twitter!! HAH!! SUCK IT CORNFLACKS!!"

Everyone turning to you with startled expressions while Homelander simply rolls his eyes before continuing his presentation.

You are a complete nightmare to the PR team, that's why for interviews or any events, you'll always be paired up with Homelander so he can keep you under control and stop you from saying weird shit that could ruin the company's image.

"So Deadpool, how does it feel being in the Seven working alongside Homelander? You've been working together for almost 3 years now" A reporter would ask as you two are surrounded by screaming fans.

"Like I'm in the twilight series, not because of the fantasy but because I'm still waiting for the part where he impregnates me—"

"O-kay! That's enough, just silly ol' Deadpool with those inside jokes"

"You can tell in this eyes that he wants to fuck me right now. HE'S GONNA FUCK ME!!" You shouted as you're being dragged away by him.

Obviously when you had found out about his relationship with Stormfront, especially her background, you had to say some shit about it. Not giving the slightest care about the fact he could be grieving over her death.

He'll be in his room standing in front of the window and you'd just storm in, being as loud as possible.

"I can't believe you dated a N@zi!! Is it because I'm Jewish?!" Which may or may not be true, nobody knows your origin.

He may hate your guts but if he ever needs someone to help him do some dirty work, you're the person for the job, you never ask why or how, which could be the only thing he likes about you.

"Y'know, maybe if you didn't have such a big mouth, you'd be tolerable"

"All the people I've slept with have said otherwise"

Compatibility? 50%

STARLIGHT

Before she joined the Seven, she had an image of what kind of person you were, she just didn't know it was this worse.

When you found out she used to work at this Sunday School Church, you just haaaaad to say something about it.

"So like, you say that prayer always works, but every night I pray for my hair to grow and it never does. Do you think God has me blocked? How do I get unblock?"

"Uh..."

You two surprisingly get along without one wanting to slice the other's throat, except sometimes the things you say can really piss her off. Which is why when the company assigned her a new costume, she was trying her hardest to avoid you, but you found out anyways.

"Holy shit Starlight! Nice costume, is this your Miley Cyrus breakthrough? Girl power!"

Insert her groaning out of annoyance.

Again, the second you discovered she was dating a guy behind the death of Translucent, you were heartbroken :(

"Of course this happens right when my therapist gives up on me!"

Despite your behaviour, you pitied her when it was revealed that she was taken advantage of by The Deep, so like any good friend, you took revenge by cooking his friend octopus and eating it happily in front of him.

"Revenge does taste sweet" You'd say happily while Starlight just watches by the side, both grateful and horrified at your actions.

In my opinion, you would definitely be the person she goes to once she starts working with the boys, you'll always be providing whatever information that happens in the company for her to use.

It helps her worry less about getting anyone killed 'cause you literally can't die.

Compatibility? 60%

QUEEN MAEVE

You're half the reason why she rethinks about her life choices when she wakes up in the morning

Not because you're a handful (which you are) but because you're always paired together on missions

"Deadpool! The hostages!"

"OKAY! God... you act just like my drunk uncle"

Which is a joke/nickname you like to address her by because of her alcoholism (yikes)

Whenever the company needs you for something, half of the time she's the one assigned to search for you.

There was this one time she caught you trying to have Anika track down Kanye West's location, nobody knows what shenanigans you were up to.

Another thing to mention was that you two were chosen by the company to sing a Christmas song for the year's Christmas ceremony.

Just imagine during the bridge of the song, she's singing normally while you're completely going off, your high note so high you were sure you had Mariah Carey a run for her money.

Even though she finds you a lot to deal with, you're actually her buddy to train with.

Since you're very skilled with Katanas, she likes to practice her swordsmanship with you.

You like to tease or make fun of her everytime she fails to strike you which is good motivation for her to get better. Maybe you guys bring out the best of each other?

Last thing I'd like to add is when she was found out by the public that she was a lesbian (She's bi but you get the running joke), you had gifted her a t-shirt that says, 'Biggest Dick in Town'

Compatibility? 80%

THE DEEP

Your human punching bag

If Vought was a high school instead of a company, you'd be the bully and he'd be the nerd getting stuffed inside the locker room.

For example, Homelander could be confronting Starlight about her relationship with Hughie and everyone would just start raising their voices til you come in yelling "SHUT UP!" to the Deep who had not said a single thing during the entire time.

Just imagine him staring at you like 😐

To be honest you also ate his friend octopus so you guys are actually never getting the chance to make up.

"Look dude, I don't appreciate your tone"

"I don't appreciate your haircut either but we can't all get what we want"

You may be a crazy person but you weren't going to be okay with the fact he violates every woman he sees, so not only did you cook the octopus but you also called in a male stripper disguised as a woman just for him to celebrate on his birthday.

Just imagine him all happy when you tell him the news and later that night he'll run inside your room, completely pissed off at your act after finding out but you just laughed and said.

"Happy April Fools 😚!"

"That's next month dipshit!"

Also, you never understood his weird fantasies. He has a thing for sea animals??You've caught him multiple times either flirting or getting off to one. It was concerning even for you.

"From how many animals you've fucked, you might just turn from the ocean's 'Seaman' to 'Semen'." You joked which he did not find funny.

Maybe you messing with him could just be your way of getting along with him since you're the same with everybody else, it's just he has more flaws to poke fun of and he's sensitive about them.

Compatibility? 5%

A-Train

He thinks you're fucked up in the head.

Half of the shit that comes out of your mouth just has him reacting like in the GIF

Buuuuuut you're the one he always brings to the club because you always know ways to give the party life.

You've somehow even got on the wall of fame, a lovely portrait of you with your hands making out a heart.

Also, you know about his business with Compound V waaaaay before anyone else did. He's still grateful you didn't tell anyone.

Just like everyone else, you also enjoy messing with him except he's fast and constantly avoiding you.

"Hey A-Train, how much do you wanna bet that I can die faster than you?"

"Dude... seriously?"

You guys rarely get sent on missions together because you're always slowing him down, not basing off the fact he's fast but because you get easily sidetracked with other things.

"Alright, we're here now, how much C4 do we use?"

"Fuck math! Let's use all of 'em!"

You ended up detonating all of the C4 on you before he could object the idea, he was able to run out in time, your action nearly getting him killed while you ended up dead.

But it's fine you'll just grow back.

You know that race he has against Shockwave? You'd be at the VIP section standing near where Homelander and Queen Maeve is, waving your huge banner that has a picture of A-Train's face and yours pasted over a figure carrying the other in bridal style.

Compatibility? 55%

TRANSLUCENT

He makes people paranoid but you make him disgusted.

There was this one time he was bored so he snuck in your room to see what you were doing.

At first he was confused why you had so many cute plushies but then the more he explored your room, he realised your room is basically every collector's dream.

You even had a huge teddy bear in the corner of your dressing room.

The reason why he doesn't like to spy on you is because the last time he did, he saw you putting your hand in the blender, then proceeding to put your private part into it.

Never again, he thought, never again.

He doesn't need to witness you carry out your intrusive thoughts.

Surprising enough, you're close with his son, I'd like to think that after his death, you practically became the kid's godparent. Though you can be sort of a bad influence, leading up to how he is in Gen V.

You always tell him you hate kids but he thinks otherwise.

After all, he can read people well.

You guys like to pull pranks on each other since you guys like competing on who's more sneaky

There was this one time, you woke up to find your suit gone so you ended up walking around the building, completely naked and unfazed by people's stares.

It was when you walked around the corner that you found your suit worn by someone else, turns out it was Translucent under it.

"Why is it so fucking tight dude? How do you stay in this shit all day?"

"You get used to it"

Compatibility? 85%

BLACK NOIR

Lovers.

He doesn't mind your attitude because he actually can't say anything about it.

No seriously... he can't talk.

But hey he's got a good shoulder to cry on.

"I just... hffgh... I can't believe my album didn't surpass lady gaga's... She doesn't even know how to use Katanas like I do!" You'd let out a loud sob while he just stares at you for a while before placing a hand on your shoulder, patting you gently.

You know the scene where he's playing the piano for one of the company's party? You'll be laying down on top of it and singing in your usual overdramatic high pitched voice.

He finds your humour amusing so he always does this little head tilt like in the GIF when you say some weird shit while waiting for his response.

Since both of you are the only members of the Seven that wears a full body suit, obviously you had to try on his but since it was impossible to achieve that, you just had the company make a copy for you.

He'll be walking down the hallway doing his normal routine until he notises another person in his suit, the moment you speak and he realises its just you is when he let's his guard down.

"I just got some transplants done to my ass, that's why I look different"

You both are never sent on missions together 'cause you guys don't work well, pretty much nobody works well with him since he's the silent type.

Example, you two were hiding behind some crates ready to jump on the bad guys who were snucking in illegal drugs. He gestured for you to wait as he went to check again, only to turn back to see you gone.

"Marry Christmas motherfuckers!"

He heard your voice shout and he found you standing on top of the stacked crates, machine gun in hand and began shooting aimlessly.

He didn't even do anything but just watch until you ran out of bullets. However, multiple survived and began shooting at you so you ended running towards where he's hiding at.

"Yankee yankee!" You yelped.

You know the video of the two girls taking off their wigs to reveal that they're bald and they start bonding over it? I'd like to imagine that's you and Black Noir with the skin condition under the suits.

One more scenario I wanna add, you guys could be having a meeting but since you were bored and you always hated meetings, you'd draw a big heart on a piece of paper and show it to Black Noir from across the table. Surprisingly he'd draw a heart back to you.

You were overjoyed so you began to draw you and him doing it, doggy style. He stares at your doodle for a while before choosing to just focus on the meeting instead.

Compatibility? 90%

(This took a while cause I was on vacation)

[simpjaes]

✘ WIP DIARY ── LAST NIGHT, I READ YOUR DIARY. (p.sh) ✘

Sunghoon has been trying be everything you need since your mother passed. A father, a friend, a therapist. You never really understood what your mother saw in him in the first place, if you’re being honest. He’s awkward, quiet, and typically used to keep to himself up until now. You’re impressed with his efforts by the time you’re entering into your senior year of college, though his entire demeanor towards you seems to have changed.  or the one where your step-father grows obsessed with you minute by minute. 

── step-dad /weirdo park sunghoon x afab reader  

── minors dni

── tags: sunghoon is in his 30s, reader is in her 20s so, age gap, step-cest, heartbreak, obsession, manipulation, coercion, stockholm syndrome-ish, fluff if he manipulates you as a reader lmfao, angst, smut. don't read this if you are easily triggered. ── side characters: heeseung as reader's ex boyfriend, jay as reader's closest friend

── !WARNINGS!: this work contains non-con, dub-con, and stalking behavior. your mom isn’t alive in this fic. warnings will be updated as i write.

── a/n: this one is gonna be a wild ride, that's all i gotta say.

due to safety concerns regarding the nature of this fic, it will be posted on patreon, ao3, and wattpad (links on pinned). i'm not sure about posting it on tumblr because i do genuinely expect to be bullied off the platform.

LAST UPDATED: 2.1.25

⨯ est wordcount: 20k+ ⨯ current wordcount: 8k ⨯ est release date: tbd ⨯ taglist: my tag list is now closed due to the length.

playlist ⨯ recommended song: last night i read your diary - gürl She's got me down on my knees I beg, I beg, I, I beg, I beg, please! I want it more than I need And I need it like I need to breathe Like I'm losing my- Choke.

PREVIEW (3.1k):

no warnings apply to the preview, it's just the first couple of thousand words for this fic. aka, the intro and the set up for what will inevitably happen later:

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Your first heartbreak is meant to be painful, but this? This is more painful than you could have ever imagined. 

Heeseung was one of your only constants in life. From childhood to high school it’s like he was there more than your own mother was, and certainly more than your own father. Even when she passed, Heeseung was the one who held you through it, he’s the one who made you smile again, he’s the one who made you feel like it was okay to heal and keep going. 

It’s the fact that it was a mutual break up that hurts the most because deep down, you couldn’t see yourself without him. Yet, still, you willingly watched him hop on the plane with a short kiss and long goodbye. It felt so final to you. You could have handled a long distance relationship, truly. But Heeseung didn’t want that. He wanted to explore the world, he wanted to try new things, be with new people. 

Do things without you clinging to him all the time. 

In a way, you understand that. After all, you’re the only girl he had ever been with up until now. Senior year of college. You think you knew your relationship was coming to an end by the time he announced he was going to be studying abroad for his final year without ever once even telling you he was applying to do so. 

So, yeah, it was mutual solely because you want him to be happy and he’s made it clear that he believes that can only happen without you. Such is life. Painful, painful fucking life.  

Just last year when your mother passed, you nearly dropped out and Heeseung had been your rock to make it through class after class with a grade barely high enough to pass. You’re certain some of your professors took pity on you and raised your grade just enough to move forward. You’ll forever thank them for recognizing how hard you were trying. But now? Without your mother, without Heeseung, you’re at a loss.

And there’s a difference between loneliness and isolation, you think. Loneliness to you always hits hard during small spaces in your day, like when you’d get into Heeseung’s car and he would close your door for you. The silence always hurt your ears while he was still making his way around the car to the driver’s seat. A shallow loneliness that you could feel right at the top of your gut, like it was squeezing inside of you and making you lose your appetite. Solely because that silence reminded you of what you always had, a lack of loneliness because of him.

But then there’s isolation. Where it feels forced upon you by other people. Your mother fucking died, Heeseung fucking left, and now you’re just here expected to wake up like you always do, go to class, study hard, sleep well, when the reality of it is– you’re genuinely struggling just to look at yourself in the mirror. 

Then there’s Sunghoon. The only person close enough to you now that you can reach out to. The issue with that is– you’ve never actually been close. And that’s what sucks. The fact that he of all people is all you have now? May as well just assume you have nobody.

His regular calls mean close to nothing to you in the grand scheme of things. Despite him calling twice a week every week since your mother died, your step-father is just as distanced from you as you are him. You’re aware that it’s his obligation, not because he cares. And that hurts, because it’s all you have now. 

Now, you have to try and find meaning in those short calls. After all, Sunghoon fell apart when your mother passed all on his own and you had only called him out of obligation too. You were already in college and stressed, falling apart yourself with someone to love beside you helping you through it. Calling him when it all happened felt empty because you knew both of you were trying to hold it together and save face. 

It wasn’t like this before she died. In fact, he never called and you never cared for him to. You’d see each other when you were home, share awkward pleasantries, and that’s it. It’s hard to believe that now you feel like you need a father, after all those years of practically rejecting him as one. He seemed fine with that after you hit your teen years. He knew by then that he could never be the father you want, but at least he could be the husband your mother needed.

You have grief in common now though. Loneliness. Isolation.

You try not to think about how you were okay up until now though. Having Heeseung to fall back on to soften the blow of your loss, you guess Sunghoon didn’t have that. Maybe his monotone voice and empty words were his way of coping, his way of hearing a voice that wasn’t the one in his own head when he calls you. 

It’s just you and a man you never considered family past the titles and obligatory respects. Finding meaning in his short phone calls does nothing to help your growing isolation, but you cling to them now that Heeseung is gone. You wait for the calls, you ask him to check in with you every day now, to the point Sunghoon starts to notice the difference in you.

No longer rushing to get off the phone. Now, you’re dragging on meaningless conversations. Now, he hears cracks in your voice. 

“You feeling okay?” Sunghoon asks you, in a way that makes you wonder how he’s able to tell that you’re definitely not. The way his own voice has a bit of life to it when he asks it…strange too. Like he’s concerned. 

“No–” You trail off in your meek voice, staring at your ceiling and mind swirling with all of the work you need to get done for classes already. “I’ve only been in classes for a week and I already feel like I’m drowning.” 

Sunghoon sighs into the speaker, contemplating how to further the conversation with you in a way that isn’t too intrusive. After all, who is he to pry? Still, he never intended for you to feel neglected or like you couldn’t come to him. After all, you were too happy about his lack of parenting you throughout his presence in your life. 

He finds solace in the fact that you’ve been accepting him now, though he hasn’t the slightest idea as to why. He’s checked in with you since the passing, but lately it feels to him like something more is going on with you. He may be somewhat estranged, and he may have his own problems to deal with, but you’re still someone he needs to be here for.

Plus, it makes him feel needed again, which is nice considering the circumstances. After living in this bustling house with you and your mom for so long, to it just being him and your mom, to now just him…all that remains now is dread, dissociation, and unwashed dishes in the sink.

“Did something happen?” Sunghoon keeps his questions short, offering more silence if anything for you to use this call as a therapy session if you need. 

You pause for a long moment, realizing that you want to talk about your issues so badly but don’t quite feel the need to share it with him of all people. You’ve already ranted day after day to Jay. To the point you’re sure he’s about one rant away from blocking your number. 

Probably because you’re not that close to him either. Not these days, anyway.

You sigh instead. 

“No…” You trail off. “I think I just miss being home. My dorm mate is never here, class work is already piling up, and I can’t even find the energy to look at the assignments.” 

Sunghoon can tell you’re feeling much like he does and he can’t imagine the weight on your shoulders dealing with these feelings while also in college. But, you have Heeseung, do you not? You’ve been fine for the most part until now, and you haven’t even brought him up. Not once in the past few weeks has his name been uttered by you. Which is strange, after all, the two of you were practically attached at the hip growing up, to the point of choosing the same college, working the same jobs, and even keeping that middle-school puppy love in full swing throughout highschool and college. 

If anything, after your mother passed, Sunghoon felt okay knowing you had Heeseung there with you to help you through it. It meant he could focus on himself and getting through the day-to-day. He could barely handle his own mournful thoughts, let alone the daughter’s feelings of the woman he loved so dearly. He was forever grateful for Heeseung during this time. 

He has his suspicions now though, and his heart aches for the voice he hears from you these days. 

“Why don’t you come home for a while?” He lends a pause to see if you’ll jump for the opportunity before selling the idea to you. “I have the bills here covered and your campus is only a forty minute drive. I’m sure that’s inconvenient but you won’t have bills to worry about on top of everything else.” He doesn’t want to sound too desperate, of course. 

After all, the loneliness he’s feeling is also becoming unbearable. Even if the two of you never were able to see eye to eye, or to form a bond together, you’re all he has left of your mother. He, arguably, is nothing to you, but there’s no one else in this world he’d rather heal the loneliness with outside of you. Only because you knew your mother on a level deeper than he did, and to have someone to share those memories with, or even laugh with, would help him tremendously too.

“I think being at home may do you some good.” 

You think it over in your head, wondering if being home will help you at all. In reality, you know it may make you feel more trapped than you do now. All those memories with your mother, with Heeseung, with all of your friends that have since moved to different colleges. 

But…you wouldn’t be alone. You’d be with someone who knows how to give you space because he’s never even tried to shrink your existence to that of your bedroom and your bedroom alone. You wouldn’t have to worry about rent, food, or anything aside from studies, gas money, and trying to heal from your heartbreak. 

Your dorm is small, you note as you look around the room and wonder how long it would take you to pack your things up. Two hours, give or take. The longest part would be taking all of the little decorations off the wall, if you’re being honest. 

You find yourself nodding before answering, solidifying in your mind that– maybe you’re not the only one who needs company in your space. Not too close, but close enough to not be totally isolated. 

“Okay.” You mutter into the phone, for some reason feeling the tears well up behind your eyes. 

You’re just a bit overwhelmed, that’s all. Knowing you’re going home feels like a relief you didn’t know you needed. 

“Yeah?” Sunghoon confirms. “Just let me know when and I’ll drive up there to help get your stuff back home.” 

You agree, sighing into the phone with a shaking voice. Sunghoon takes note of it, always remembering and quite frankly missing how loud and obnoxious you used to be. Hearing you like this pains him. He wants to help. Now more than ever is his chance to be someone you need, and he hates knowing he feels happy about it. 

Getting to be your father now? It feels awkward, but at least it’s a feeling other than loss. 

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Sunghoon sighs at you through the speaker. “I know I’m not someone you like coming to but–well, I’d like for you to rely on me more, okay?” 

You find a lot of comfort in those words, despite hearing him say them time and time again. This is the first time he’s ever shown that he means it through the offer of bringing you home, rather than just saying it and accepting whatever you say back to him at face value. 

“I know…” You trail off. “I’m okay though, really.” 

Sunghoon hates himself for never forcing you to accept him. Sure, there may have been some teenage defiance towards him, but eventually the two of you could have seen eye to eye. He could have been someone you needed. You could have relied on him too, rather than just Heeseung. That’s all he can really think right now. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing else going on?” The man nearly pleads in his tone, desperate to have someone rely on him again. “I’ve never heard you sound so exhausted before, I can’t help but worry.”

You’d tell him, but honestly, what grown ass man wants to hear about a first heartbreak? It would just get awkward again, he’d just feel obligated to do something about it, and worse, he might end up feeling like he’s supposed to dislike Heeseung now. 

You choose to remain silent in the final straw that broke your back this semester. 

“Really, I’m just tired.” You nod to yourself as you hold your phone loosely against your ear. “I might not go to class tomorrow and just pack instead. I’ll just call you when I’m ready, is that okay?”

Sunghoon smiles to himself, wanting to mean something to you in a way that can hopefully help you out of this slump. Your mother would be throwing a fit if she heard how you’ve been sounding, he can’t help but take over that role and try to make damn sure you are okay. 

“That’s fine,” Sunghoon confirms. “I’ll call and let them know what’s going on so don’t worry about any of that. Just get yourself ready to come back home.” 

You find yourself smiling, relieved that you don’t have to be the one to contact your school and tell them that…well, you’re breaking your student-lease, dropping your food plan, and need to be reimbursed for partial tuition costs since Sunghoon insists every semester that you purchase tuition insurance. You should no longer be charged to live on campus, or for the facilities within the dorm. 

Knowing you’ll at least get back a couple thousand dollars is a nice change of pace, and already you’re feeling weirdly excited to go back to a space that will likely make you miss your mother more. It’ll hurt, but at least you won’t be alone anymore. 

The forty minute drive to campus feels less horrifying now, and maybe your friends will still come and hang out with you in your actual home rather than a tiny dorm. 

“Sounds good.” You say, as if to end the call before you mutter out again. “Thank you, by the way. Sunghoon, really.” 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Sunghoon knew he was spiraling further and further into his loneliness. He knew it wasn’t healthy either, but now. Oh, now he realizes just how bad it’s gotten as he demonizes himself upon picking you up. 

You haven’t come home since your mother’s funeral, and even on that day he barely remembers what you looked like. Eye contact was never a thing for him, but looking at you now, he sees how much you’ve matured since you went off to college. 

Your once bright, excited eyes have turned dull and empty. The bags under them are heavy from lack of sleep. Your lips appear to be in a permanent state of pouting, though he isn’t sure if you’ve noticed. You appear to have lost weight, which is concerning for him of course, but…there’s something else about you.

Something that sits in the pit of his stomach and rots.

“Uh–” You cough, noting the way Sunghoon looks at you as you try to hand him a large box. “Thank you for helping me move my stuff back…” 

Sunghoon snaps out of his thoughts, grabbing a heavy box and then waiting for you to stack another on top. 

“No big deal,” He mutters, feeling the weight in his hands double as he prepares to carefully carry your things out to his car. “You haven’t come home in over a year, but I’ve fixed up your room for you and went ahead and connected my gaming system in there.”

You nod quietly, feeling awkward for how fatherly he seems.

“Thanks…” You trail off, flopping a pile of your things into his trunk before stopping to look at him. “You look like shit.”

Sunghoon furrows his brows, noticing for a split second how that facial expression you made is very similar to one his wife used to throw at him when he’d have hair out of place, or a wardrobe malfunction. And then he smiles. 

“You’re not looking too good yourself.” He jokes back.

You smile back at him, feeling a bit of the awkward air fizzle away. 

“Well, I’m not doing well, so.” 

You were continuing the joke, but his face falls before yours does. 

“You can talk to me–” He starts.

“I know, I know.” You wave him off. “I’ll feel a lot better once we get back and I can settle in.

There’s a nod from him now, and then silence as the two of you continue to put the rest of your belongings into both his car and your own. 

“Well, I guess I’ll see you in a bit?” You say now, awkwardly.

Sunghoon nods, looking you over once again.

“See you in a bit.” 

   ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Shame.

Pure fucking shame. 

Sunghoon knew he needed another presence in this house but upon seeing you again, he knew it may have been a mistake. 

He likes to think of himself as level headed. He’s never gotten into any trouble, never had a stray thought, never cheated, lied, or stole anything. He can’t think of a single thing that he’s done in life to be considered taboo.  But looking at you feels…incorrect?

Indecent? 

You’re his step-daughter for fuck sake but it’s the fact that you don’t feel like you are. When he looks at you, he just sees another person. He did this to help you, he did this to feel needed, to be your fucking father. 

He did not do this to look at you this way or to feel his eye stray even without his intention.

Why do you look so much like her? Why do you do that thing with your pinky when you carry things like she did? You even have a similar smell, probably having picked up on your mother’s habits throughout childhood. 

You being here…It’s like she’s still here. Except it’s you, and he can’t be thinking this way. 

 ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

This fic will be dark, very taboo, morally bad. Not a grey area, it is blatantly bad. sunghoon will do bad things. Please be aware of your own triggers once it's completed and posted. remember that I write within my own triggers, not yours. That being said! Please do show lots of love if this is a fic you're interested in reading! If you want to be tagged, I have a permanent tag list, there are not any separate tag lists for individual fics so keep that in mind.  ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

due to safety concerns regarding the nature of this fic, it will be posted on patreon, ao3, and wattpad (links on pinned). i'm not sure about posting it on tumblr because i do genuinely expect to be bullied off the platform.

[p0orbaby]

Not All Heroes Wear Capes

summary: you and alexia attend marriage counselling

warnings: suggestive

a/n: i have no clue what this is but i like it and i hope you do too !

word count: 1.4k

-

You’re sitting on a lumpy beige sofa, the kind that looks like it’s been stolen from an old woman’s sitting room. The armrests have stains that could either be coffee or something much more sinister. You don’t want to think about it too much. You also don’t want to think about the fact that you’re sitting next to your wife, who might be one or two millimeters closer to you than she’s been in the past week, but you’re not counting.

Alexia looks at the therapist like she’s evaluating her for a spot on the team. This is her default face—cool, calm, like she’s about to suggest subbing you out. You’re not sure how you feel about that. You’re also not sure how you feel about the therapist, who introduces herself as Dr. Bristow but who you immediately decide looks like a "Betsy."

Dr. Bristow, née Betsy, gives you both a gentle smile, the kind of smile people give puppies before they realise they’re about to chew through their expensive shoes. “So, why don’t we start with what brings you both here today?”

“I don’t know,” you say, crossing your arms because you’ve seen people do that in movies when they’re trying to look defensive. “Why don’t you ask Alexia?”

Alexia doesn’t even glance at you. “We haven’t had sex in a month”

You choke on absolutely nothing. The last time you checked, your sex life was no one else’s business, but apparently, Alexia’s decided that it’s Betsy’s now. Wonderful.

Betsy’s eyes widen, but her tone remains professional. “That must be difficult for both of you. Would either of you like to share why?”

Alexia shrugs, her muscles rippling under her tight shirt. You try not to notice, but you’ve always had a thing for her biceps—who wouldn’t? But now isn’t the time. You tell yourself this even as your mind decides to replay the last time those biceps were wrapped around you, gripping you like you’ll blow away with the smallest gust of wind.

She’s talking, and you force yourself to focus. “We’ve just been… busy”

You almost snort. Busy. That’s one way to put it. Busy with training, busy with travel, busy with being one of the best footballers in the world while you’re busy just trying to keep up. It’s not that you don’t understand, it’s just—God, it’s frustrating.

“Busy,” Betsy repeats, nodding slowly, as if she’s letting the word marinate. “That can definitely take a toll on intimacy. Have you both discussed how you feel about this?”

Alexia turns to look at you, and you suddenly feel like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. You wonder if you look as guilty as you feel.

You clear your throat. “We’ve talked about it. Sort of”

Alexia’s eyebrows raise. “You mean I’ve tried to talk about it, and you’ve changed the subject”

There it is. That thing she does. You know she’s right, but the way she says it makes you want to argue just for the sake of it. Maybe that’s the problem. Or maybe the problem is that you’d rather wrestle a rabid dog than talk about feelings.

Betsy’s eyes flicker between the two of you, clearly sensing the tension. “It’s not uncommon for couples to struggle with communication. What happens when you do try to talk about it?”

You exhale slowly, trying to avoid looking at Alexia’s lips because that’s just distracting. “She’s always so… calm”

Betsy blinks. “And that’s… a problem?”

“Yeah,” you say, exasperated. “It’s like she’s a robot. No offense”

Alexia just shakes her head, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “None taken”

“I just want to see some emotion, you know?” you continue, warming up to the topic. “I’m over here, losing my mind, and she’s just… chilling. Like, I could tell her I’m moving to Antarctica to raise penguins, and she’d probably just ask if I packed a warm coat”

Alexia finally shifts her gaze to you again, her eyes softening, which is somehow worse because it makes your chest tighten. “You know I care. I just… I don’t always show it the way you want”

Betsy leans in, like she’s watching a particularly juicy soap opera. “And what about you, Alexia? How do you feel about the way your wife expresses her emotions?”

Alexia’s eyes meet yours, and there’s that spark again. You know the one. It’s the one that usually ends with you pinned against the wall or thrown onto the bed, Alexia’s mouth on yours, all lips and teeth and heat. The one that reminds you why you fell for her in the first place.

But then she says, “I love how passionate she is. But sometimes it feels like she’s on fire, and I’m just trying to keep from getting burned”

Ouch.

You narrow your eyes. “I’m not a fire hazard”

“No, but you’re combustible”

“That’s just because you’re too controlled!”

Alexia laughs, and it’s not the reaction you expect. She actually laughs, and you’re left wondering if you’re missing the joke. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? To figure out how to meet in the middle?”

Betsy nods sagely, like she’s the Buddha of bad relationships. “Finding balance is key in any marriage. Have you both considered how you might do that?”

You both sit there, silent for a moment, probably considering how much easier it would be to just skip to the make-up sex and forget the rest. The thought must cross Alexia’s mind too because she gives you that look—the one that says, Let’s just go home.

You’re about to suggest it, too, but then Betsy has to open her mouth again. “Sexual intimacy is often a reflection of emotional intimacy. If you’re not connecting emotionally, it’s likely to impact your physical connection as well”

You want to groan, but instead, you offer a tight smile. “Thanks for that, Betsy”

Alexia stifles a grin, and for a moment, you feel like you’re on the same team again. You used to have so much fun together—where did that go? It wasn’t always football and fights. There were nights when you’d stay up until dawn, just talking, laughing, and occasionally getting tangled in the sheets, not caring about anything but each other. Maybe that’s what you miss the most—how easy it was back then, how effortless it felt.

“Remember that time in Cartagena?” Alexia suddenly says, as if she’s reading your mind. “When we got locked out of the hotel room after that party?”

You can’t help but laugh. “You mean when you tried to break in using a hairpin and almost got us arrested?”

“Yeah,” she says, her eyes glinting with mischief. “But you tackled me before the security guard could, and we ended up in that broom cupboard”

You’re both grinning now, and it’s like a weight lifts off your shoulders. That night was a disaster, but it was your disaster, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything. You remember how you’d both been breathless with laughter, trying to keep quiet in that tiny cupboard, your bodies pressed together in the dark, and then… well, things got heated, and you’re pretty sure the broom cupboard got more action that night than most honeymoon suites.

Betsy’s watching this exchange with mild interest, but you’re too caught up in the memory to care. “Maybe that’s what we need,” you say, half-joking. “More broom cupboards”

Alexia leans back, her hand sliding casually onto your knee, and you almost jump at the contact. “Or less pressure”

“Or more spontaneity”

“Or,” Betsy interjects, her voice slightly louder, “a bit of both?”

You look at Alexia, and for the first time in weeks, you see the possibility of something other than just surviving this rut. Maybe you don’t need therapy. Maybe you just need a reminder of what made you fall for each other in the first place—a little more broom cupboard, a little less beige sofa.

Betsy’s droning on about communication exercises, and you’re nodding politely, but you’re already planning your escape. You catch Alexia’s eye, and you both know exactly where this is going.

You’re going to leave here, and you’re going to find the nearest cupboard, or alleyway, or even just the backseat of the car if it comes to that. Anywhere you can be alone together, no talking, no therapy, just you and her and that spark that never really went away.

As Betsy wraps up, you stand, practically dragging Alexia out of the office. You thank Betsy on the way out, but you’re already halfway out the door before the words even leave your mouth.

And as soon as you’re out of sight, you push Alexia against the wall, her mouth on yours before you can even think about it. Her hands are in your hair, on your waist, tugging you closer, and you realise that maybe you don’t need therapy, or a broom cupboard, or anything else.

Maybe all you need is her.

[inkskinned]

she says he won't let her get a dog, which is fine, because they're in an apartment, and that's the kind of thing people say about their partners. he won't let me get a dog. and you're at a dinner party and you tilt your head a little to the side just like that dog he won't let her get, because is this the thing that's going to upset you? you don't know every corner of their relationship, she could be joking, they could have had so many healthy conversations about the dog, right, and maybe she's not letting herself get the dog because of money and time and whatever. but, like, she did say let

and she wants to move away from his hometown and he wants to stay and then he tells you with a wink and a conspiratorial stage whisper don't worry i'll convince her and she laughs about it - so clearly this is something they laugh about. but you do just stand there and stare at him like what the fuck, man. you can't say what you want to say which is why do you get the final say on everything because they're both obviously aware of the other person's stance on this and have obviously had private conversations about it and what are you going to do about it except make a scene and then he'll be mad at you and call you one of those bitches behind your back and she'll cut you off, which is a loss that doesn't feel worth it just because he makes you a little skeeved out every 3rd comment

and they both agree he just isn't the type to get flowers which is fine because everyone shows love differently, and are you really gonna judge someone based on their sense of individual relationship responsibility? maybe he's constantly cleaning her car and writing her poems and making her furniture or something. maybe she doesn't even like flowers and this is perfect, actually. and no you couldn't date him, obviously, ew; but like, she tells you she's happy. you almost send her a tiktok that says don't be 25 and the cool girl that doesn't need anything, you'll hate not getting flowers at 30, but that's like, starting drama & you shouldn't start drama needlessly.

and you're a little older than her but not so much older you can pull the whole trust me on this one babe thing and besides that wouldn't have worked anyway (when does it ever) and besides you have trauma so you and your therapist both agree that you're always looking for a problem even when there isn't one. and you tell yourself that just because you see them for 15 minutes every month does not mean you can identify every single red flag based on a single shitty half-joking(?) comment

and besides, what are you going to do? she says i actually wanted another stand mixer but thankfully he stops me when i'm about to spend too much money and you're standing there like are you okay? is this normal? is this just something people say? and again - what are you going to do?

to your therapist you try to language it - it's not, like, any of my business. but sometimes, doesn't it feel like - you should do something. there's got to be something, right? you've tried dropping little hints but they sail right through and you've tried having a single serious conversation and she got upset because why does it matter to you, yes it's different but we're happy, it doesn't need to make sense to you and you're like. really unwilling to push a boundary about it anymore; because the truth is that you know logically it shouldn't matter to you, as long as both parties are happy.

and besides, you've been wrong before. it's just... like, every time you see them both, something else happens, some kind of shiver down your spine like do you even hear each other when you talk. it's their strange, bickering orbit. just the way he's on his phone through dinner or watching sports instead of helping in the kitchen or, fuck, another one of these little throwaway comments he makes about we'll see about that, babe. she laughs when he calls her passions stupid shit and meanwhile she gets him tickets to see the knicks and he tells you well at least she's smart about something and still! it's none of your business.

you say get the dog anyway and she laughs. like, this is is you being funny. and not you saying - no really. get the dog. get the dog and get out of here. pack up and start running.

[inafieldofstarflowers]

My ⋆｡*Jeremy Knox Evidence Board⋆｡°

aka: I scoured TSC for all the crumbs I could find about Jeremy Knox and the mystery of his tragic and/or questionable past and tried to sort the information into sections

1. Whatever happened has something to do with Exy

Jeremy mentions "the fall banquet that broke [the Knox] family in half" in his freshman year

Before this banquet, Jeremy's sister Annalise always went to his games, after it, she not only stopped attending but went "out of her way to forget everything she knew about Exy" and had "never forgiven [Jeremy] for sticking with it"

Annalise suggests that their step-grandpa will have an opinion on Jeremy recruiting Jean and states that this recruitment is "a new scandal" which will make Jeremy "End the way [he] started"

2. Jeremy Goes to Therapy

Cat says that this therapist was "legit life changing" for Jeremy

Jeremy's mom was the one to find him this therapist, and she's both very good & very expensive

The therapist has walked him through how to push back against his family (or, at least, Annalise's anger at him sticking with Exy), suggesting that she believes his decision to continue playing after whatever happened is legitimate

3. SOMETHING is up with the Knoxes

Jeremy acknowledges that his family has their issues, though he specifies that his mother never raised a hand to hurt them physically

Again, whatever happened at the banquet "destroyed the family"

There's specifically tension between Jeremy and his stepdad/step-grandpa

- Jeremy is "permanently on his stepfather's bad side"

- Their step-grandpa is a Congressman, and the Knoxes are a "picture perfect family" who are "duty bound to dress up and smile" to make him look good

- When Annalise brings up their step-grandpa it is apparently "obvious bait" which Jeremy rises to by saying that he "isn't their grandfather"

- Him saying this makes Annalise respond "don't destroy my future"

Jeremy's parents are presumably divorced rather than his dad being dead (Jeremy uses the present perfect tense when he tells Jean "Dad's been stationed [in Europe] a couple times"

There's weird energy between the Knox siblings

- Cat identifies three: two brothers and one sister. We know Annalise is the younger sister and Bryson is the older brother, but the third is an unknown. Also, Cat noticeably pauses before saying that Jeremy has three siblings, but Jean doesn't ask about it

- Annalise has a grudge against Jeremy, and he avoids Bryson, who is apparently a jerk

- Jeremy mentions that "most of his siblings" wanted to get out of LA when stating that he wanted to stay because of his love for USC

Jeremy's family is upset when he bleaches his hair (presumably because of how it affects the family's image)

- He's "uninvited from the family table for the state of his hair"

- When Laila asks what happened to frosted tips, Cat says it was "something about how going beachboy mode was more acceptable than looking like a one-hit wonder dropout" and Jeremy says he might do tips next year "after I've graduated and don't have to deal with the fallout"

Jeremy gets "tense and distant" when his mom texts him

- Also her text tone is an "awful noise" (which could mean nothing but also Jeremy has curated specific text tones for everyone so I do NOT believe this is a coincidence)

4. Jeremy's housing situation is weird

In his own words, Jeremy stays "[with Cat and Laila] from June until the start of the school year" and then once school begins, is "usually only over on the weekends" and lives at his house

- When Jeremy explains this, Jean notices "the way Jeremy's gaze slid past him to peer into the distance" and "the tight tug at the corner of Cat's mouth"

- As @drunkinourtears pointed out, “apparently only [Jeremy] (out of all his siblings) is required to live in their family house the whole year,” referencing the passage "Unlike Bryson, who always came home for the summer, [Annalise] insisted on keeping her own place on the other side of the city year-round." This emphasizes that “Jeremy is the only sibling to be put on a tight leash” regarding his living situation, as both his older brother and YOUNGER sister are allowed their own choices on where to live

Jeremy sneaks in and out of the house "to avoid conflict" and is aided and abetted in this venture by the family's butler

- He says that "the trick to starting Saturdays off on the right foot was to get out of the house as early as possible"

5. A deeply weird financial situation

The Knoxes have money (as evidenced by the butler & mentioned private chef), and Jeremy has access to it to some extent

Jeremy has to deal with his mother's bookkeeper regularly enough that he has the practiced thought that he gets a receipt "so he could file it later" with the thought that it is "always best to have a paper trail"

- He gets receipts three times: when he buys coffee & the gift card for the man in line behind him, when he keeps the receipt from Jean's shirt, and when he gets the receipt for his hair dye job (adding a note with the amount for the cash tip on the top of this one)

Jeremy gives Cat and Laila cash to help with groceries and rent, and Cat "knows how many hoops" he has to jump through to get the money as a result of being on his stepfather's bad side

- As a side note, it's interesting that Jeremy's finances seem to both require his stepfather's approval and are then confirmed by his mother's bookkeeper

- This also ties back into the weird living situation: Jeremy seems to have some financial freedom (he can get his hair done on the book, even though his family does not want him to), but he has to scramble to be able to give Cat and Laila money for the time he lives with them (possibly to disincentivize him from staying there?)

- Annalise, by contrast, has her own place in the city she can stay in year-round, which suggests that she has easier access to the family’s money, or at least more freedom to work with it in regards to her housing situation (shoutout @drunkinourtears for pointing this out!)

6. Jeremy's weird comment about cops

I will just quote this in full because: “There was little to no chance he’d know them, and no reason they’d recognize him, but Jeremy kept his gaze forward and his mouth shut until they were past.”

- This is never expanded on, and it's such an ambiguous passage in terms of what Jeremy means. First, why say there's "little to no chance" he'd know them and not just "no chance"–why would they know him? His politician step-grandpa? Something he did? It just reads less as a general discomfort with cops and more as an avoidance with a specific reason

- Second, "and no reason they'd recognize him" could just mean that they wouldn't know Jeremy Knox, but again, that would be such a weird thing to say. Would they know his name/know about something he did in the past, but just not know his face?

- All in all, this passage reads to me like there's something in Jeremy's past that has made him uncomfortable around cops, and while there's no reason these particular ones would recognize him from that or know about it, the very idea that they might puts him on edge (is there a potential tie between this discomfort and whatever happened in Jeremy's freshman year?)

There’s also Rhemann’s comment after Grayson’s attack: when he wants to bring the police in, he tries to reassure Jean by saying “I’ll send Jeremy away first,” Rhemann said, like that somehow would win Jean over.” It’s easy to read this as Rhemann thinking Jean wants privacy in this moment, but that doesn’t hold up as much considering the specificity of sending JEREMY away, suggesting he assumes Jean is concerned about Jeremy having to be around the cops

- As @drunkinourtears pointed out, his comment suggests that Rhemann knows about whatever Jeremy’s issues with the cops are, and him saying this in front of Lucas and to Jean “implies that Jeremy's situation with cops is common knowledge for the team and [Rhemann] assumes Jean also knows about it” (I 100% didn’t pick up on this until reading the comment about it and it is FASCINATING)

7. Cat and Laila know about whatever happened

Throughout the book, Cat and Laila either trade looks or make faces or almost slip out information about what happened when things come up about Jeremy's past

- They're solidly on his side about it whatever's up with his family, seeming to dislike them quite a bit

- Cat mentioning that therapy helped him out a lot does suggest that they didn't think he was in a good place before

- Cat knows even though she wouldn't have been at the freshman year banquet, only the fifth year seniors would have been (that suggests that the only people who DEFINITELY know would be Laila, Cody, Pat, Derek Thompson, and Shawn Anderson)

Addendum 1: Jeremy is particularly uncomfortable around discussion of suicide

Obviously, this is a very sensitive topic, and there’s every possibility that Jeremy is just uncomfortable because any conversation about suicide is going to be hard. However, as @welcome-to-the-end-of-eras and @catalailas pointed out in the notes, Jeremy’s reactions are generally heightened compared to those around him when suicide comes up

When Jeremy finds out about Wayne, Jean notes that: “In one heartbeat, Jeremy’s entire demeanor changed. Jean watched the blood drain from his face even as Jeremy hopped off his stool and turned away from them. The line of his shoulders was rigid as he listened to whatever Cody had to say.”

Additionally, when Jean suggests Grayson might kill himself like Wayne if he goes to therapy, it’s followed by “That isn’t a joke,” Jeremy said, with unexpected ferocity.”

- Again, these could just be a natural reaction from someone who’s removed from the mafia stuff in a way the other main characters aren’t, but the section about Grayson is also followed by the statement that “Cat winced, but kept her eyes on Jean,” which suggests it might be something more personal to Jeremy, & Cat knows what/why

If there are any other notes you have to add to the evidence board, let me know! Also, if you have any theories about how these things connect and what exactly is going on with our boy Jeremy, I would LOVE to hear them and I WILL add any substantial evidence I missed

[satellite-evans]

Unfaithful

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x reader

Summary: Going trough a breakup hits harder whe you realize only your hearts gets broken.

Word count: 1.6k+

Warnings: angst, no happy ending. mention of age gap.

A/N:

I wrote something similar for Chris Evans a couple of years ago and wanted to write it now with Lewis bc I liked the concept xxx

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

Love. It’s a difficult word to understand, even harder to feel. Everyone has felt it at least once, but in different amounts. That’s why people sometimes compare it to chemistry. If you pour in too much, if the balance is even slightly off, it can become dangerous. It can destroy you.

And that’s exactly what happened with you and Lewis. You loved him too much. At least, that’s what your friends told you. They spoke in hushed voices, their pitying eyes following you across rooms, as if love had left you fragile. As if you might shatter if someone breathed too hard in your direction. You’d hear what your therapist had to say about it next week, but you weren’t looking forward to it.

What was she going to tell you anyway? That you had issues to work on, that it wasn’t your fault, and that healing takes time? Nothing you didn’t already know. Nothing you hadn’t told yourself a hundred times over in the dead of night while lying awake, staring at the ceiling, willing yourself not to check your phone. Because you knew there would be nothing from him.

But that didn’t stop you from wanting.

It hurt, like all endings do, but this was different. It hurt that it ended for you, but it also hurt that it never truly started for him. That realization struck you in the middle of the night sometimes, jolting you awake with a sharp pain in your chest. You would reach out for him instinctively, fingers fumbling against empty sheets, the cold linen burning against your skin like ice. The loneliness of your bed mocked you, whispering the truth you had refused to see for so long.

“You should’ve seen this coming, Y/N.”

How could you? He acted, he talked, he listened, and he loved like he was yours. In the 29 years of your life, you had never felt more alive than when you were with him. He made you want to do more, to be more. You remembered the way he used to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, the way his voice softened when he said your name, the way his hands always found yours in crowded places. He was your best boyfriend.

Until he decided he wasn’t.

And looking back, you wondered if he ever really was. If it had all been an illusion, a cruel trick you had played on yourself. You combed through every moment, every smile, every touch, every whispered “I love you,” dissecting it all with a surgeon’s precision, trying to find the exact moment it all went wrong.

Was it the first time he hesitated before saying “I love you” back? The time he forgot your anniversary? The night he turned away when you reached for him? Or had he been leaving you long before that, piece by piece, while you remained blissfully unaware, drowning in a love that only you were truly feeling?

In all honesty, you never thought that someone you loved so much could become the person you hated most. But then again, you can’t hate someone you never truly loved, can you?

“There’s a thin line between love and hate,” someone once told you. “People cross that line all the time. Sometimes, just one word can make you fall in love, and just one word can make you despise someone.”

In your case, it was two.

“I cheated.”

You remembered the way he said it—calm, almost indifferent, like he was commenting on the weather. Like it didn’t matter. Like you didn’t matter.

The world had blurred around you in that moment. Your vision tunneled, sound faded, and for a few seconds, it was just you and those two words, echoing through your skull, carving themselves into your bones. You had expected guilt, regret, maybe even tears. But all you got was a hollow confession and a half-hearted apology that came too late to mean anything.

The worst part? You hadn’t even screamed. You hadn’t cried. You had just stood there, nodding, as if accepting the inevitable. As if you had known all along and had simply been waiting for confirmation.

But that was the thing about love—it made you blind. It made you believe in things that were never real.

And now, you were left with nothing but memories and an emptiness you didn’t know how to fill.

The words still echoed in your mind, playing on a cruel, endless loop. They replayed every time you closed your eyes, every time you saw a couple on the street, every time you passed a place where you had once been happy together. The thought of it made you want to pull your hair out. How had you been so blind? Had love really done this to you? Were you so deeply in love with him that you ignored all the red flags?

No. You weren’t doing this again. You weren’t blaming yourself for someone else’s choices. Lewis had painted all the red flags green with his charm and his words.

Until your tears washed the paint away and revealed the truth.

What hurt the most was that he didn’t care. He didn’t care that you stayed up talking to him for hours when you had early morning meetings. He didn’t care that you flew across the world just to surprise him at his race. He didn’t care that you were always the one encouraging him before every challenge. That realization cut the deepest. Not just that he had hurt you, but that he had never really cared if he did.

He. Simply. Didn’t. Care.

And now, you were left alone, with no one to talk to, no one to travel across time zones for, no one to encourage you.

“Why?”

It was just one word, but it held a thousand meanings.

Why did you cheat on me? Why did you make me believe I was yours? Why did you let me fall in love with you? Why me? Why did you hurt me?

It didn’t matter anymore. He wasn’t worth your tears. He wasn’t worth your anger, your heartbreak, your sleepless nights.

Lewis didn’t deserve your love. Just like he didn’t deserve your pain.

Alcohol. That was his excuse.

"I—I swear, Y/N. I didn't mean to. I had too many drinks, and when I woke up, she was just… there."

Of course, he would blame it on everything but himself. Why would he take responsibility? Lewis Hamilton, the man adored by millions, was a selfish coward when it came to love.

At least he wasn’t a good liar. His stuttering, his clenched jaw, his hands running through his curls—all signs of guilt. He was suffering in front of you, and you should have enjoyed it.

But you didn’t.

Even now, even after everything, you felt sorry for him. Maybe it was because of your mother, who had always told you to see the good in people, to have empathy.

You wished she hadn’t. Especially now.

Deep down, you had known. Lewis had changed, right in front of your eyes. He went from the man who would rather stay in with you, watching movies on a rare free night, to someone who partied and came home at 3 a.m. You blamed it on stress, on pressure, on everything except the truth.

The truth was that it was all him.

“Whatever. I’m done listening to your excuses, done pretending everything is okay. You can’t even lie to me properly, Lewis. And maybe I should’ve known. You never cared about my feelings anyway.”

His silence was louder than any words he could have spoken. But his eyes—they told a story of regret. And you knew, if you stared too long, you’d start believing him again.

So you looked away.

“Please, Y/N. I don’t want to lose you.”

The urge to slap him, to scream, to break something, surged through you. But you held it back. He didn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing he still had that power over you.

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to stand tall.

“And I don’t want to keep waiting, hoping that one day you’ll realize I’m what you want, Lewis. I’m done. I lost someone who never cared about me. But you? You lost someone who would’ve done anything for you.”

His eyes were glassy now, staring straight into yours.

“What are you saying?”

“I was the only one who actually fell in love. You just pretended.”

With that, you grabbed your keys and walked out of his apartment, slamming the door behind you—just like he had slammed shut the door to your heart.

Your first instinct was to drive away as far as possible and never look back. But for some reason, you couldn't. For some silly reason, you looked back to see that he would come after you, begging to stay, but he didn't. The street was empty and cold, just like him.

The moment your forehead touched the steering wheel, your eyes began to cry uncontrollably. Like a leaf in the cold night, your whole body started to shake, and the only thing you could do was cry even harder. It was a blessing you hadn't cried in front of him; you didn't want him to see you vulnerable and broken. Yet every fiber of your being had fought to hold those tears back, and now, they were no longer strong enough to keep them inside. In fact, you didn't want to be strong anymore. All you'd done in life was pretend everything was okay, acting as though words didn't hurt you. As though Lewis didn't hurt you.

You were done.

After drying your face with some tissues you found in your car, you took a deep breath, started the car and started driving.

You had no exact destination in where you wanted to go, you just kept driving. But one thing was clear:

You were never going back. Even if your heart ached, too.

[whateversawesome]

Spy x Family Ch. 108: Fear

Don't get me wrong, that panel with Twilight remembering his friends was beautiful. I think he feels nostalgic for that connection with other people. However, I think what really caught my attention in this chapter was Melinda.

Come on, look at this:

Look at this face of terror. And she was just remembering her husband's eyes!

A long time ago, when we just met Melinda, I wrote this theory about her being afraid of her husband. Today, it was finally confirmed.

I feel so sad for her. Melinda has probably been carrying this alone for a long time. I doubt she's shared her fears with any friends or family members because, who would believe the illustrious political leader could be an abusive man? This is especially true if there's no actual physical violence in the relationship. However, like I said before, violence is more than that.

Something tells me that the violence in their relationship is mostly psychological. Donovan Desmond uses his authority to tell Melinda what to do, to create fear, to keep her away from their children.

Melinda appears as such a composed woman who has her life together in front of others, and only someone as emotionally perceptive and caring as Yor would notice something is wrong. There's a shame component in abusive relationships: "How did this happen to me? I used to be so strong and brave," combined with disbelief: "Am I overreacting? Is he really that bad? Why am I afraid of him if he hasn't really done anything to me?"

Hopefully, in time, Melinda will realize that fear is not only her responsibility; even if her husband wasn't physically abusive, his behavior caused her fear.

Without a doubt is a complicated issue, which brings me to something that will probably complicate things even more:

Yup, Twilight.

I'll admit that this is the first time that I felt very uncomfortable with what Twilight is about to do, but that's exactly the point. Good fiction/literature is suppose to move something within us, even if at times, it makes us feel uncomfortable.

You probably imagine why: Melinda is a person in dire need of therapy. She deserves (and needs!) a true professional and instead, she getting someone who is only trying to gather information.

HOWEVER...

Time and again, Twilight has shown that despite his line of work, he'll always try to do the right thing and the least amount of harm. So, I'm hoping he will apply that in this specific situation. My guess is that it will start as a way to get information (his classic "for the mission") but then, as Melinda opens up, he will actually give her good advice and hopefully empower her, as a real therapist would do!

Something else to keep in mind is that Melinda story of domestic violence could trigger Twilight himself in some way, given his own family history. We will have to wait to see how that goes.

Bonus

A final note on Melinda's beliefs in occultism: it makes sense.

I won't comment too much on the specific meaning of the cards because my knowledge is limited and I'm skeptical about that. But I will say that it makes sense that someone with so much fear and uncertainty in her life would believe in something that would bring her reassurance that everything will be okay or try to know the future in order to protect herself. (I really want to give Melinda a hug.)

On the other hand, you know who doesn't believe in that?:

Yup, our dear Becky, who is one of the most authentic character in sxf, who is protected and loved by her parents and Martha. That makes sense too.

[kjack89]

New year, same bullshit. I’m sorry I’ve been so MIA, friends, but I hope you accept this drabble as an explanation of sorts. Love you all ❤️

“Should I be worried?”

Grantaire’s eyes flicker up to Enjolras’s, his cereal spoon halfway to his mouth. “Do you mean, like, in general?” he asks. “Because I mean, like, it’s 2025. And we’re all fucked. So.”

He sticks his spoon in his mouth and shrugs. Enjolras doesn’t smile. “That’s on me for not being more specific, I guess,” he says, scrubbing a hand across his mouth before crossing his arms in front of his chest. “You’re not painting.”

Grantaire swallows. “Well, no,” he allows, “mainly because I’m eating breakfast at the moment.”

“Be serious.”

Grantaire’s lips twitch. “It’s somewhat less funny when you know it’s coming.”

Enjolras arches an eyebrow. “And yet that’s never stopped you before.”

“Fair.” Grantaire twirls his spoon between his fingers before pronouncing, like the well-worn, inside joke it had become, “I am wild.”

Almost certainly despite himself, Enjolras smiles, just slightly. “Yeah, you are,” he agrees. “But you’re also not painting.”

Grantaire’s answering smile fades. “Could be,” he says, a little sullenly. “It’s not like you’re around enough to know.”

It’s a low blow and he knows it, but Enjolras doesn’t flinch. “Maybe not but we live in a late capitalist surveillance state so I have my ways of finding out.”

“Well, well, well, typical white man, complaining about the system except for when it directly benefits you.”

“Yep,” Enjolras says. “Are you going to keep deflecting? Because I can do this all day.”

For a moment, Grantaire’s tempted to take him up on it, to see just how long he’ll actually allow this to drag on. It’d almost certainly be good fun, and it isn’t like Grantaire’s got anything better to do.

But he can also see that Enjolras is genuinely worried, can see it in the tightness of his shoulders and the lines at the corners of his eyes that he tries to claim aren’t crow’s feet because he’s not old enough to have crow’s feet. And considering Grantaire’s previous point about all of the other things that are almost certainly more worth Enjolras’s worry, he supposes he owes him at least a semblance of the truth.

“Yes, I haven’t been painting,” he says, dipping his spoon in his bowl of cereal and stirring it, mostly to give himself something to do with his hands. “No, you shouldn’t be worried.”

Enjolras nods like he didn’t really expect a different answer. “Are you depressed again?”

Enjolras’s bluntness, characteristic though it may be, still startles a laugh from Grantaire. He sighs and looks down at his cereal bowl. “There’s not really a way to say this that won’t worry you.”

When he sneaks a glance at him, Enjolras meets his eyes evenly. “Try me.”

Grantaire jerks a shrug. “I’ve never really not been depressed,” he admits, which isn’t really a dirty secret so he’s not entirely sure why he’s saying it like it is.

Maybe because he really doesn’t want Enjolras to worry. They don’t talk about this, really, other than for Enjolras to reiterate more times than Grantaire can count that he’s always there to listen if ever Grantaire wants or needs to talk.

He knows that Grantaire’s in therapy, and takes meds, and had some very low lows previously, but Grantaire’s never felt the need to fill him in on the specifics.

It was depressing enough living it the first time.

He made that joke, such as it was, to his therapist, who didn’t laugh. “Do you frequently feel like you’re a burden to your loved ones?” she asked in response.

Of course Grantaire does, but again, he won’t tell Enjolras that.

Enjolras taps his fingers on the table, the way he does when he’s deciding on the best plan of attack or how to most effectively dismantle whatever asinine argument Grantaire’s brought up. “I thought you were doing better,” he says hesitantly after a moment.

He doesn’t pitch it as a question but Grantaire still nods. “I was.”

“What happened?” Enjolras asks, before pausing and asking, “Did something happen?”

Grantaire sighs and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “It doesn’t always work that way,” he says. “It’s not always triggered by something happening.”

Enjolras’s brow furrows. “Right,” he says shortly, something like disappointment flitting across his expression.

It took Grantaire a very long time when they got together to realize that this kind of disappointment isn’t aimed at him, but at a problem Enjolras can’t fix, an enemy he can’t fight.

At least, not directly.

He clears his throat. “But in this case, I think probably everything over the past few months played at least a contributory role, shall we say.”

True though it is, he mostly says it for Enjolras’s sake. Enjolras just nods slowly. “Are you not painting because your depression is bad again?”

Grantaire exhales sharply. “I’ve painted a lot while depressed.”

Enjolras’s expression doesn’t shift. “Another excellent deflection.”

Grantaire barks a laugh and scrubs both hands across his face. “You know me too fucking well.”

“Or just well enough.”

Grantaire lowers his hands and sighs again. He doesn’t quite meet Enjolras’s eyes as he says, “Every time I go try to paint…it’s like I can’t see it anymore, you know?” Enjolras almost certainly doesn’t know, but he’s struggling to put it into words in a way he can understand. “Like I can’t picture it in my mind, how I want it to look, or how to get there. It’s– it’s like trying to paint in fog.”

It’s not an exact metaphor, but it’ll do.

Enjolras nods slowly. “But I don’t need to be worried.”

“No,” Grantaire says, before wrinkling his nose. “Yes? I never know what the correct response is.” Enjolras just gives him a look, and Grantaire tells him, “No, you don’t need to be worried.” He pauses, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth before telling Enjolras with an almost tired conviction, “It’ll come back. It always has.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Enjolras asks.

Grantaire cracks a smile. “Then you can worry.”

Enjolras takes a deep breath. “Ok,” he says simply.

Grantaire eyes him resignedly. “You’re going to worry anyway, aren’t you?”

A smile twitches at the corners of Enjolras’s mouth. “Newsflash, asshole, I’ve been worried this whole time,” he says dryly, and Grantaire’s smile widens at the quote.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Enjolras’s smile disappears.

“What? Why?”

Grantaire shakes his head, mostly because he knows Enjolras won’t like his explanation. “Because you shouldn’t have to—”

Sure enough, Enjolras cuts him off with a scowl, though his voice is gentle as he tells him, “That ship I’m pretty sure sailed when I fell in love with you. Or, frankly, probably a good deal sooner than that.”

There are so many things that Grantaire wants to say that, but he can’t bring himself to. Instead, he stretches his hand across the table and tells Enjolras, sincerely, “I love you.”

Enjolras takes his hand, lacing their fingers together. “I know,” he says softly. “I love you, too.” He squeezes Grantaire’s hand before adding, “I hope it comes back soon.”

“Yeah,” Grantaire agrees. “So do I.”

[antiquarianfics]

Taken pt. 11

If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would go back to that morning. He would hold you a little tighter in his arms, and he would kiss you a little deeper. He would pull your daughter in between the two of you, letting her giggle as loudly as she wants whilst her parents kiss her cheeks and tickle her belly. If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would have told you not to go to the park—to go anywhere else. But Bucky Barnes can’t time travel, and his wife and daughter are gone.

a/n: this is a direct result of the power of commenting/reblogging an author's work. someone said they were sad they didn't think i was going to finish this, and i realized i hadn't finished it, and i have some time for once, so i decided to be skibidi sigma. (gen alpha brainrot is starting to come out unironically. i work with middle schoolers. sorry.)

warnings: swearing, blackmail, mention of murder, themes of conspiracy, canon typical violence.

note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters. Any and all characters are a work of fiction and any likeness to real persons is wholly unintentional.

You do not have permission to copy, translate, or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

previous part | series masterlist | next part

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

When the judge tells you, “Mrs. Y/N L/N-Barnes, you’re a free woman,” you let out a sob and feel yourself yanked into a firm chest that you’d recognize anywhere: Bucky.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re coming home.”

—

You would think that months working for the enemy, followed by months locked up in a cell, followed by a month of trial, that finally ended in your freedom and return to your family would bring you peace.

It doesn't.

Sure, finally sleeping in your own bed again and cuddling up next to your husband was amazing, hugging your daughter again was amazing, having privacy again was amazing... but freedom and its perks don't erase trauma. You get to lie in your own bed again and cuddle up next to your husband, but you can't sleep lest the nightmares come. You get to hug your daughter again, but you're always looking over your shoulder, worried someone will snatch her away from you again. You get to have privacy, but you never trust that you're truly alone.

After everything that has happened, you realize, you will never be able to go back to how things were. You're a different person than you were before you and Becca were taken. You're a murderer now, not a hero. When you look at your hands, all you see is blood, and when you look in the mirror, all you see is a shell of the woman you once were.

—

The first week back home as a free woman is spent making amends, as per the recommendation of your court-mandated therapist.

"Steve, I am so sorry for trying to kill you. I... I don't even know what to say. If it weren't for Bec, I wouldn't've, but-" You say, throat dry, palms sweaty as you wipe them on your pants.

"Hey, it's okay. I understand. I forgive you. If anyone is going to understand turning on a friend to protect someone they care about, it's me." Steve gives you a comforting smile, his tone so earnest. "Just ask Tony and Bucky."

You crack a smile.

After Steve, came Fury and Coulson, the late presidents' family, the families of the many politicians you killed... the list felt unending as you worked your way through it.

It takes months to track down the loved ones of all the people you hurt while with HYDRA, and by the time you're finished with it, you're more exhausted than when you were literally locked up and starved while in HYDRA's custody.

With a huff and a frown, you flop onto the couch. You fall over the arm of the couch and land on your back. Bucky laughs a little as he watches your dramatic display, walking over and leaning over you, resting his arms on the back of the couch.

"Tired?" He asks.

"Yeah. This making amends stuff is exhausting. Don't know how you do it." You flop an arm over your eyes.

"Slowly but surely," he says. "And it helps that I have a super hot and supportive wife to encourage me when it feels like too much." He reaches over the couch and pokes your stomach. You giggle and squirm.

"I don't know that the 'hot' part helps the amends," you say pointedly.

"Maybe, but it doesn't hurt."

You smirk but say nothing. Bucky watches for a moment.

"Well?" He asks finally.

"Well what?"

"Are you going to say it back?"

"Say what back?"

"You know."

"I don't know."

"That having a super hot and supportive husband makes making amends easier," he says in a matter-of-fact tone. You lift your arm off your face to look at him; he's wearing a shit-eating grin.

"I guess it does help a little," you concede.

He jumps up, throwing his arms in the air in victory. It's a little out of character for him, but it makes you laugh. He's been going out of his way to make you laugh, even when it includes him doing things that feel unnatural to him. Bucky Barnes wants his wife back, yes, but he is also aware that after everything that you went through, you won't be the same. Things won't go back to normal: there will just be a new normal. In the meantime, he just wants you to laugh a little while you figure out what your new normal is.

—

At some point, you fall asleep on the couch. Bucky leaves you there, afraid to move you lest you wake up. Ever since your captivity with Frost and HYDRA, you've been having nightmares that Bucky worries rival his. Any nightmare-free sleep you get is rare and needed.

Bucky had lain a blanket over you before putting Becca to bed and heading to bed himself, and even though he'd deny it, he was exhausted, too. So when your nightmares start, he doesn't wake up.

The nightmare starts out slow, and you toss and turn in your sleep, pitiful whimpers leaving your lips. Though, it doesn't take long for the nightmares to progress. Soon, you've tossed the blanket onto the floor and your whimpers have turned into screams. Bucky doesn't hear, but Becca does.

The 4 year old walks through the apartment, leaving her room quietly in search of her screaming mother. She's scared; she's never heard you scream like this. While locked up, she heard you scream in anger—she still remembers how you screamed and pulled the chains out of the wall—but she has never heard you scream in fear. Until now. Her mommy has always been the bravest person she knows, and that's even braver than her daddy—he said so himself.

Clutching her stuffed rabbit in one hand, she slowly walks into the living room where she can see you flailing and screaming on the couch.

"Mommy?" Becca calls out softly, nervously. When you don't answer, she tries again, moving closer still. "Mommy, wake up."

Again, you don't answer. You're still deeply asleep. Becca walks up to the couch and stands right beside you. Tentatively, she places the hand not holding her rabbit against your shoulder and shakes.

"Mommy, wake up."

When you still don't wake up, she shakes your shoulder a little harder and speaks up a little louder.

"Mommy, wake up! Mommy, it's just a dream. Just a bad dream. Wake up!" She gives a good push to your shoulder with the last 'wake up' and you sit up quickly, swinging your arms in a punch. You hit Becca, and she stumbles back, loses her balance, and falls, hitting her head against the coffee table.

You start to fully come to. You're looking around the room frantically, breathing heavily, and, slowly, you realize you're in a familiar place. Slowly, you recognize your living room. Slowly, you realize your daughter is bleeding on the floor.

You do a double take. Becca is sat against the coffee table, her bunny abandoned at her side. She's holding her head, but blood is still dripping out from the sides of her small hand, and she's bawling.

"M-m-mommy, I'm s-s-sorry!" She cries.

"Becca! Oh, no, no, no!" You quickly stumble off the couch, sitting on your knees as you hover your hands next to Becca's head, trying to assess the damage.

"I'm so sorry, baby. Mama's so sorry. I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to."

The commotion is loud enough that it wakes Bucky up and he slides into the room, panic staining his face.

"Y/N, what's going on? Are you okay? Is Becca okay?" He says worriedly, rushing over to you and kneeling beside you.

Noticing that you're not actually touching Becca or trying to help, he pushes you out of the way, pulling Becca's hand away from her forehead. He grimaces as he gently swipes his thumb across the cut, wiping the blood away. He lets out a relieved breath.

"It's not that bad. It's okay. You're okay, sweetheart," he tells Becca, kissing her forehead.

Bucky turns to see that you've backed yourself into the corner of the room, as far away from him and Becca as you could possibly get. You're holding your head in your hands, crying, and muttering "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to," over and over.

"Doll, she's okay. It's just a small cut. You didn't do anything wrong," Bucky reassures you, scooping Becca in his arms as he speaks. He was piecing together that you'd hurt her in a post-nightmare haze (he was familiar with them).

You just shake your head frantically.

—

Bucky gets Becca cleaned up and put back to bed. When he returns to the living room, you're still huddled in the corner, but you've stopped crying. Instead, you're staring blankly at the wall. He walks over.

"Doll? Hey." He gently tilts your chin towards him. "Bec's okay. She's not mad—a little rattled—but mostly worried about her mama. You didn't do anything wrong. You know that, right?"

You shake your head and he sighs.

"She's asking for you."

You finally make eye contact.

"No. I don't want to see her; I can't see her. You have to keep Becca away from me, Bucky." Each word that leaves your mouth is deadly serious. Bucky's mouth is slightly agape as he takes in your words.

"Sweetheart, she's okay. You can see her," he tries.

"No, I can't. I'm a danger to her, Bucky. I hurt my baby." Your voice cracks, and the pain in your voice breaks Bucky's heart.

"Promise me you will keep her away from me," you beg.

He nods reluctantly. "Okay."

You nod and turn your gaze back to the wall. It's silent for a few minutes.

You stand abruptly and Bucky quickly mirrors the action.

"What is it?" Bucky asks.

"I'm going to kill Frost," you say at the same time.

A beat. Bucky stares at you.

"I'm going to hunt that son of a bitch down, and I am going to make him pay for everything he has done to this family." You make direct eye contact with your husband. "Everything."

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

@just-henny @jasminocano @browneyedgirl22-blog @barnesboo1967 @matchat3a @unkasworld @qwertyb2577 @raajali3 @yoruse @iilsenewman @alysianc @fairytalegirlofurdreams @marvelxlevram @casa-boiardi @buckybraneslover111 @hhiggs @smolracoon25 @questionableratatouille00 @heytheredemonsitsyourgirl @thearieunhinged @sebastianstansource @middaystarlight @talesofadragon @killerwendigo @ozwriterchick @kandis-mom @scatteredstardustt @babysbreathbabes @ordinarylokix @lilstarfish88 @ordelixx @shizukestar @filmsbyblair

[ilovefootballwrs]

waiting room

Reader x Leah Williamson

Warnings: Toxic relationship, homophobia, mommy issues

"I wanna make you drive all night just because I said, "Maybe you should come over" Wanna make you fall in love as hard as my poor parents' teenage daughter She'll be the best you ever had if you let her"

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

Present

"How do you know she was the one?"

How did I know she was the on? Maybe it was the way that she made me feel? When we were together it was a mess, we were a mess. But when we are apart? My heart and soul long for her. I could never let her go, it is never going to happen.

"I never said that." I answered to the question.

"I know, but you implied it." She took a long breath before continuing what she was going to say. "Listen Y/N, if this is going to help you need to work with me. I can only help you so much, the real work comes from your side."

"I do really want your help, I really do! I just don't know how."

"Okay, then let's start from the beginning, tell me about how you met."

. . .

April, 2022

"I don't know what you're getting so worked over Y/N."

"This is a big deal for me Abby! What if it goes really bad and I end up blowing it up?" I sigh before setting my coffee down.

"It won't blow up, trust me" Abby said with a reassuring nod.

"And..." She continued, "If you happened to meet a super hot lesbian footballer, give her my number!" She winked at me.

"Abigail, I won't do that!"

"Not even for Lucy Bronze?" She asked me with a pleading look.

"Not even for Lucy Bronze."

I checked my clock and saw that the training started soon.

"I have to go! Can't risk getting late for my first day." I said excitingly.

"Take some hot pics of Bronzy for me! And don't forget to send them to me, for you know a second opinion."

. . .

Present

"Did you ever feel safe talking to Abby about your feelings?" My therapist asked me.

"Abby is my best friend, and I do love her with all my heart, but I never felt comfortable talking about her about those feelings." I said with an emphasis on those.

"Can you try to explain why to me?"

"I never really understood why, I still don't, but I would guess it was because of how open she was about it and I wasn't."

"Did you ever think about coming out to her?"

I took a deep breath and started getting ready to answer the question. I could feel my hands shaking and heart beating faster.

"I guess at one point I wanted to, but I would always get reminded of what happened with my mother." I took another deep breath before continuing, "I wanted to tell her about me and Leah so badly, I really did, but I just couldn't. It wasn't even like I was trying to suppress my feelings for Leah to myself, it was just to others I did that."

. . .

April, 2022

"I am so sorry about the camera, I really didn't mean for it to happen. I can pay you for the cost!" She said in a panic.

"Don't worry, it's not me you should be worrying about because this isn't my personal camera. I got it from the media team." I told her.

"Still, I am sorry!" She looked at me. God, she has the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen.

"It's okay, really." I reassured her, again.

"This is a really bad way of introducing myself." She laughed. "I'm Leah" She struck out her hand for me to shake. I took her hand and answered.

"I'm Y/N."

. . .

Present

"Leah would try to tell me that it was okay, but I never listened to her. I should've and we would've maybe still been together."

"Did you ever feel like Leah was pushing you?" My therapist looked me deep in the eyes.

"She never meant for-" I started before she interrupted me.

"Y/N, did you ever feel like Leah tried to force you to come out? It's a yes or no question and the only one that know that answer to that is you! I am not interested in what she meant or didn't mean, this is not about her it's about you!" She looked at me with a sharp glance.

"Yes, yes it did feel like that to times. It was the reason for most of our fights. She would ask me to stop hiding her and I would tell her that I never meant for that, I just wasn't ready." I sighed. "I understand how she would feel like that though. I wouldn't want that either, but it just didn't feel like she understood where it came from."

. . .

January, 2023

"I just don't understand Y/N! Why can't you just tell Abby at least? She would understand!" She yelled.

"I get that she would understand, Leah! But that isn't the point! I'm just not ready." I tried to explain.

"What are you waiting for Y/N? There's nothing stoping you from telling her, what's the big deal?" She said.

"What's the big deal? Leah, how coming out not a big deal?" I yelled at her, at this point I was furios.

"You've already come out to your mum, why can't you just come out to Abby?" She questioned.

"And how did that go Leah? She hasn't talked to me since!" I felt the tears in my eyes at this point. How could she not understand. "I thought that you of all people would understand Leah, but I guess you're just like everyone else."

"I tried not to be! But you never gave me any other choices. I want to be with someone who will drive the whole night just to be with me, but you can't even tell people about our love. Y/N, I'm not your waiting room, I can't be."

. . .

Present

"That's the last I've heard from her." At this point I was sobbing. "I tried texting her and calling her but she blocked me. She doesn't want anything to do with me." I tried to calm down, but it didn't help. "After this, I told Abby. I had to tell her. If I just told her sooner, maybe I still would've had Leah. But it's too late now."

. . .

The end.

[myeagleexpert]

Throw wood on the fire

Pairing: Tim Drake/Red Robin x YN AFAB Warning: yandere fic, toxic relationaship, he's possessive, you're stubborn, obsessive, emotional manipulation, nswf (pt 2) Summary: You  and Tim have always been soulmates, but it's so suffocating that you've reached your limit. It's time to break up with Tim. Note: Reader is described and represented as YN or as "You" because, grammarly, I'm trying to adapt the text so that it is more harmonious! Eng is not my mother language, so often the way I write does not relate to the translator and I have to translate most of my works manually. Therefore, thank you for understanding!

After a great night spent with your friends, having fun and bringing lightness to life, without even worrying about the time. But as the night is young, you have an annoying alarm telling you that it's time to go back to bed: Tim. You enter yours a luxurious apartment in the city center. Your shoulders immediately tensed when you heard his voice demanding answers.

"YN where were you??" He immediately grabs your arm and demands to know where you've been and why you were so late getting back

"Relax Tim, I just went out with my friends" you say taking off your red high heels, sighing heavily as you have this same conversation…for the fifth time.

Tim's expression remains stern as he crosses his arms across his chest. "I don't care if you were out with your friends," he retorts.

 "I told you to be back by 10 PM. It's midnight." mentally you ignore him as you take off your fancy suit and place your bag on a couch in the living room.

Tim follows after you, his annoyance growing with every step. "That's not an excuse," he snaps, his voice sharp. "You knew what time you were supposed to be home, and you didn't even try to keep track of the time."

He watches as you start walking to your room, and he grabs your hand to stop you. "We're not done talking about this." he says firmly. "You need to understand how worried I was about you being out so late."

"We just talked about it. I came back late by accident, it already happened there's no way back. I said I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Happy now?" Irritated, you release your hand from his grip and return to your route.

Tim's jaw clenches tightly as he listens to your response. He clearly isn’t satisfied with your dismissive attitude.

"No, I'm not happy," he replies with a mix of irritation and frustration in his voice. "You don't seem to understand how big of a deal this is for me. You're supposed to be mine, and I need to know where you are, what you're doing, who you're with. It's for your own safety."

"When did such a healthy relationship become so suffocating? Where is the Tim I knew? Why is it getting more and more tiring to continue this?" YN thinks, searching the timeline for where and when the red flags started to appear… and when she started ignoring them.

"I'm your girlfriend, I'm not an object to possess Tim." I look at him seriously "We've talked about this before, I'm going to sleep now. You can't control me 24 hours." Tim's expression hardens even more as you challenge him. He's not used to being contradicted or questioned, especially when it comes to you.

Your therapist said that in moments like this it was ideal to remain calm and that counting to 10 would help to calm down and not explode at others.

1....2....3.......

"You're my girlfriend, and that means you're mine," he insists firmly. "I'm not trying to control you, I'm trying to protect you. Can't you see that?"

He takes another step closer, closing the distance between you. "I care about you, more than anything else. I can't stand the thought of something happening to you. It drives me crazy when I can't keep an eye on you."

4......

You increase the distance and turn your back to Tim, ignoring his words while you change your clothes and put on satin pajamas. He looks at you irritated as you lie down on the big bed, covering me with the soft linen blankets. Tim’s eyes follow you as you changed into your pjamas and climbed into bed, his irritation growing with every movement you make. He stands there, his fingers clenched tightly into fists as he watches you get comfortable in bed.

“You’re seriously just going to go to sleep now?” He asks, his voice tight with frustration. “We’re not done talking about this.”

"I would love to talk about this with you, but as you can see, I'm already asleep. And good night dear, be careful the bogeyman doesn't get you" you say sarcastically as you cover your head with the sheets, mentally praying that Tim will give up any upset tonight, your patience has been...very little.Tim's jaw clenches even tighter as he listens to your sarcastic retort. He's clearly not amused by your dismissive attitude and attempts to end the discussion.

5....

He takes another step towards the bed, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "You're seriously being a brat right now? I'm trying to talk to you like an adult, but you're just acting like a child, YN."

He stops at the edge of the bed, looking down at you with a mixture of irritation and frustration in his eyes. "You can't just shut me out and expect this conversation to go away," he continues, his voice firm. "We need to talk about what happened tonight. You can't just pretend it didn't happen!"

"Tim." you look at him seriously "I don't want to talk about it now, I'm tired and sleepy. We'll talk about it tomorrow."Tim's expression softens slightly as he meets your gaze, but his stubbornness remains. He sighs heavily before replying.

"I don't want to wait until tomorrow," he says, his voice still firm but slightly calmer. "I need to know what happened tonight. Where were you? Who were you with? What were you doing?"

6.....

"If you keep insisting, I'm going to go out in my pajamas and sleep at a friend's house." You threaten him as you run your hand through your hair, for a moment, Tim's gaze turns dark, he knows you have the audacity to do this.

"You're really going to leave in the middle of the night and go sleep at one of your friends' houses? Over this?" he asks, his voice filled with a mix of irritation and disbelief.

7.....

"Goodnight darling." You get up irritated and give him a kiss as you get out of bed. Still in your pajamas, you take your car keys and I go out to the garage where my beloved car awaits me. Tim follows hot on your heels, his expression a mix of alarm and determination.

"Wait, what are you doing?" he calls out, his voice tinged with worry.

He can't believe you're actually leaving in the middle of the night. He catches up to you just as you're about to get in your car.

Tim grabs your arm, trying to stop you from getting into the car. "You can't just leave like this," he says urgently. "We need to talk about what happened tonight. I need to know that you're safe."

You take his hand off your arm and say dryly "I'm fine and safe as you can see, see you tomorrow. I'm not going to talk to you irritated!" YN say, getting into the car and turning on the ignition, pressing the control to open the gate.

8.....

Tim's expression turns to one of frustration and helplessness as he watches you get into the car. He knows he can't stop you from leaving, but it kills him to see you so upset and willing to walk out in the middle of the night.

"Damnit, don't do this," he says, his voice pleading. "Please don't drive off in anger. Just come back inside and we can talk about this like adults."

He takes a step closer to the car, leaning down to look at you through the open window. His expression is a mix of concern and desperation.

9....

"Please, just don't drive off like this. It's the middle of the night, and I'm worried about you being out alone. Just come back inside, and we can talk this out."

"I don't want to talk right now." you start the car and start walking when he stops irritated, and almost crying, in front of the car "Excuse me, I need to pass if you don't mind" you say disguising the anger and frustration, honking the horn calmly. Tim takes a step back, his arms falling to his sides in frustration. He watches with a mix of anger and helplessness as you start to drive away.

But just as you're about to pass him, he steps in front of the car, blocking your path.

“TIM!”

Fuck counting to 10...

"What the hell are you doing?" he blurts out, his voice tight with irritation and worry. "You're really going to drive off like this in the middle of the night? It's not safe!"

He stands in front of the car, his eyes locked on yours through the windshield. "God Damnit, just stop and talk to me," he pleads, his voice filled with a mix of frustration and desperation. "We can't just leave things this way. You can't just walk out and leave in the middle of the night without talking to me about what happened tonight."

"I'll text one of your robots to read." you respond sarcastically while rolling your eyes, but after taking a deep breath, you try to negotiate with him "If you stay quiet, I'll come back and sleep on the couch. If you keep insisting like this, I'll leave now and only come back in the morning" I turn on the car and make the engine make a loud noise.Tim listens to your response, his expression growing more frustrated by the second. He clenches his fists at his sides, clearly fighting the urge to argue further.

Tim considers your offer for a moment, his mind racing with frustration and worry. But he knows he doesn't really have a choice right now.

"Fine," he finally says, his voice tight. "But we are going to talk about this in the morning. And you better not try to sneak out again tonight."

He takes a step back, allowing you to drive off, but his expression is still filled with irritation and worry. He watches as you drive off, his mind racing with frustration and insecurity.

"Damnit," he mutters to himself as he watches you drive away. "Why does she always have to be so damn stubborn."

The powefull Red Robin, stands there for a moment, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. he's torn between the need to go after you and the knowledge that you won't listen right now.

His mind races with conflicting thoughts. he's worried about your safety, but he's also irritated by your stubbornness. He knows he should just let you go for the night, but the thought of not knowing where you are or what you're doing is driving him insane.Tim takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. he knows he can't just follow your car and chase you down. That would only make things worse. But the thought of you driving off in anger and irritation, alone in the middle of the night, is eating him alive.

At that point, it was like throwing wood on the fire, fueling anger and rebellion.

As time passed, YN saw the love she felt for Tim gradually turning into a prison. Like a perfect fairy tale it lost its color, slowly turning into a horror film where she would be the only victim.

“Baby, we need to talk…”

The constant need to be together and Tim's obsession with protecting her created a web of possession that left her increasingly suffocated. Constant calls, constant paranoia, constant accusations… it was all getting too much. As heiress to her father's company, YN always tried to be at the height of the company and it was very difficult with a boyfriend demanding to know who she was with all the time, why she cared about all that and why… that man was shaking her hand .

Each day was a desperate effort to maintain some of his autonomy, while Tim became more controlling and domineering. The feeling of being constantly surrounded by a hyperprotective guard was oppressive, depriving her of space to breathe.

“How will I know she’s really your friend? !What if she wants to poison your head about our relationship?!”

YN tried to rebel against the prison that had become her relationship, her stubbornness and her independence at stake. She began to become more indifferent towards Tim's possessive efforts, trying to create the distance needed to have more control over her life. Increasing and rebuilding the walls that were previously knocked down with sarcastic, poisonous comments, trying to get back to having a busy and festive life like before. However, each attempt to regain her autonomy was met with resistance from Tim, who desperately clung to the illusion of being her protector. With every step she took toward freedom, he strived to hold her back, increasing his possessiveness and desperation to keep her by her side.

“Why do you want to go to this event alone? We're a couple, aren't we? What are you going to do there that you won’t need me?”

Little by little, the web was made by Tim's efforts and undone by YN's stubbornness, it was a tiring, exhausting process and honestly YN was already at the limit of it all.

Like a butterfly that turns and convulses its way out of its web, so YN was determined to fly free again.

The plan to sleep over at a friend Daisy's house failed, leaving only one friend on the other side of the city. YN breathes a sigh of relief as she turn off location, cell phone, and any other service that has anything that connects to it. While at his house, you took advantage of the time away from Tim and focused on your training, finally a full workout without Tim hacking the gym. You posted some photos and videos on social media, recording your workout and the breakfast you were having with your friend you met the other day.

Meanwhile, Tim was anxious and worried, unable to focus on anything other than his absence. He became even angrier when he saw your posts on social media. He knew that you were making these posts on purpose to irritate him, which only increased his anger and frustration. he tried to control himself, but he couldn't help the feeling of helplessness and anxiety that overwhelmed him. He wanted to know where you were, what you were doing, who was with you.

It was noon when you called Tim, giving him the air of your presence "Tim, are you home now? Do you want me to bring you lunch?" YN say hoping he would forget the conversation as she gets into the car, reapplying lipstick and putting on sunglasses.

Tim answers the phone, trying to control the frustration and anxiety in his voice. He was in the apartment, busy with work, when you called.

"Yes, I'm home," he replies, trying to remain calm. "But there's no need to bring lunch, I'll order something." He tries to keep the conversation casual, but he can't forget the argument from the night before.

"I'll order… Your favorite" You say trying to lighten the mood, the calm before the storm. Tim hesitates for a moment, his frustration with the situation still present. But his favorite's offer makes him relent.

"Okay, fine," he says, trying not to show how much he was looking forward to your return. "But you'll be here soon, right?"

"If I say I'm going to help the chef, will you let me take my time?" I try to bargain with him. Tim is holding back.

Tim takes a deep breath, his possessive and controlling side taking over for a moment. He really wanted you home where he could keep an eye on you and make sure you were safe. But he also knew that you wouldn’t give in that easily. He tries to remain calm as he responds.

But he also knew that you wouldn’t give in that easily. He tries to remain calm as he responds.

"For how long?" he asks, irritated. "And why do you need to help the chef?"

"I'm going to make the special recipe with him" you say without even realizing it, a little evil in the intonation, but soon swallow it to be a decent person, , as if she hadn't thrown wood on the fire.

Tim raises his eyebrows when you mention "the special recipe." What the hell were you doing? The “Special Recipe” was a dish that only the two of you made. Period. It was a couple thing and not a delivery from a fancy restaurant. It wasn't a different seasoning or something exotic, the fun of the “special recipe” was making the YN and Tim recipe, a pasta where the two make romantically in the kitchen, an illusion of domesticity and togetherness.

"The special recipe?" he repeats, irritation and suspicion evident in his voice. "Why the special recipe? You didn't mention anything like that before."

"Isn't it your favorite, love? I'll be there in 20 minutes"

"Okay, cool," he replies, his voice tense. "I'll be waiting for you."

Tim notices the sarcastic tone in her voice, but he tries to ignore it, his irritation still present. He knows you're joking, but he can't help but wonder what's really going on. He was sitting in his office, trying to stay calm and work while he waited for you. But his irritation and frustration were quickly growing as the minutes passed.

YN arrived at the shared apartment within 40 minutes, ready to talk. "Good morning Einstein" she takes off her heels and goes to the living room, placing the delivery in the kitchen watching the fuming man leave the office

When you finally arrived, he quickly got up from the office and left to meet you in the living room. His look was serious and full of anger.

"Six hours" was the first word he spoke, without even greeting you. His tone was cold and controlled, but the irritation was evident in his expression and in every word he said.

"Six fucking hours," he repeated, "No news, no messages, nothing. I was on the verge of madness, not knowing if you were okay or not." He approached you, his eyes locked on yours. He wanted to hug you, pull you into his arms, but the feeling of irritation and frustration prevailed at the moment.

"Explain to me," he demanded, his voice firm. "Where were you? What were you doing? Who was with you?"

"I went to celebrate our company's profit with my friends from work" friends that he hated "Then I went to that restaurant that opened now, the Japanese one" That Tim hated "As it was early at night, I was invited to a party at the other city ​​with the girls." girls who hated Tim "As we had a disagreement yesterday, so I slept at Galileo's house" the guy who hit on you

With every word you spoke, Tim's expression changed. He felt his veins pulsing with anger and frustration as you mentioned your friends and the guy who hit on you while you explained in an indifferent way, as if you were talking about the weather and not turning on warning sirens in Tim's head.

He tried to contain his possessive and controlling side, but it was difficult to control his feelings. The thought of you spending the night at another man's house drove him completely insane.

"Did you sleep at another man's house?" he repeated, his anger evident in his voice. "Daisy wasn't home, my closest option was Galileo." "He's gay baby, relax" YN says

Tim snorts when you say Galileo is gay. Even though he knew he wasn't interested in women, the idea of ​​you spending the night at another man's house was irritating to him, especially because Tim saw him hitting on you and was paranoid since from the first time the two of you were introduced. He tries to calm down, but the anger still clings to him like a thorn.

"That doesn't change the fact that you slept at another man's house," he snaps. "Because my man wouldn't let me sleep in peace" I retort with the same intensity

Tim takes a deep breath, his hands clench into fists in anger. He knows you're right, but he doesn't want to admit it. He feels the guilt slowly creeping into him, but the anger still prevails.

"You ran away from me," he responds, his voice firm. "You just left our house without a word and i didn't hear from you for hours." The muscles in Tim's neck tighten as he speaks, anger and frustration mixing in his words.

"I was worried," he continues, "I was desperate not knowing where you were or if you were safe. I tried calling and texting you, but you left me hanging." His voice becomes lower and more intense as he continues to speak.

"And now, I find out that you spent the night at another man's house, the guy I detest, for God's sake."

He moves closer, invading your personal space, chest rising and falling with each hectic breath.

"How do you think I feel, huh?" he asks, his voice tense. "What do you think I was like, not hearing from you, not knowing where you were, what you were doing, who you were with?" He places his hands on both sides of her face, forcing Yn to look directly into his blue eyes. Mentally trying to connect his stormy eyes with your lovely ones. How cute, you might think….

A boyfriend desperate for his girlfriend's well-being, and everything for her protection, hmm?

Apart from the fact that they've had this conversation before.

How a prey follows the natural instincts that the predator will attack, turning on the fight or flight button…..

So YN remains firm and upright, she can notice the gentle changes in Tim's gaze, his worried speech, his dominant touch trying to make her “stay in her place”, but there is not a hint of guilt in her eyes.

YN had seen this film many, many times, the same script with the same characters. It's time to leave the cinema and live real life.

"Sorry, it won't happen again." you press your hand against his for a few seconds and then remove it from your face, looking at him seriously, your eyes as steady as a mountain weathering the storm. Tim's smile widened, but it closed realizing something was going to happen. Tim looks at you, his face showing a brief expression of relief and happiness as you rest your hand against his. But that feeling quickly fades when she realizes something isn't right.

He tries to stay calm, waiting for you to say something.

"What it was?" he asks, the anger and irritation still evident in her voice. "I know that expression. What are you going to do?"

The silence lasts for a few seconds as you remain quiet, your gaze serious and determined. Tim feels the atmosphere getting tense, he knows something is happening but he doesn't know what, and he hates every second of not knowing what goes on in Yn's head.

He crosses his arms, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for you to speak. His patience is starting to run out.

"Come on," he scolds, his voice brusque. "Speak quickly."

"I think we better break up." In the same way I speak abruptly, and I see his world turning upside down. Tim's expression changes immediately, as if he's been punched in the stomach. He stays frozen in place, his mind trying to process what you just said.

What? No… it can't be….. No…..it's not real. She must just be mad….

He babbles for a few seconds, unable to form words.

"I-I didn't hear you right," he finally says, his voice shaking slightly. "Repeat please."

"I think its better if we better break up, Tim. It's not working out, sorry." The words fall like a hammer on Tim's heart. He remains still, his mind trying desperately to find the words to argue, to change your mind.

He opens and closes his mouth several times, his hands shaking slightly. Finally, he manages to speak, his voice fragile and shaky.

"But…but why?" he asks, his words coming out almost like a whisper. ' "You know why."

Tim remains silent, his gaze fixed on his. He knows exactly what you're saying, but he still doesn't want to accept it. Millions of conversations about the relationship, the opinion of friends and family, the indirect ones, the distance… he knows he's being too much, that he's trying to imprison you, that he's pushing you away with all his obsession and paraoic… but he He can't stop, you're his drug. Slowly killing and addicting him until he can no longer live without you.

He runs a shaky hand through his black hair, trying to control himself but failing miserably.

"I…" he tries to say, but his voice trails off. He takes a deep breath, trying to muster the courage to speak. "I can change."

He won't change. Yn thinks, already knowing where this story would end.

"You don't need to change, Tim. I'm the problem here." I put my hand on his shoulder, "I'm sure someone out there will appreciate and value all your concern and your temper. But we've been hurting each other a lot lately."

Tim holds your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. He knows you're right, that things weren't working between you. But he can't accept it.

"I-i don't want it to end," he murmurs, his voice lowering. "I love you. I want to make it work."

“Listen Tim… I-” your sentence is cut off when Tim hugs you tightly, his head resting on your shoulder as he starts to cry. He tries to control himself, but emotion takes over him.

He squeezes you tighter, like he's desperately trying to keep you from leaving. Trying to bring you close, inhaling your scent, feeling your heat, trying to mold your body to his.

"Piplease," he whispers, voice shaking from crying. "Please don't leave. Please stay with me."

Tim continues to hold you, his body shaking with the emotions he's trying to keep under control. He doesn’t want to let you go, desperate to keep you by his side.

Anything other than us breaking up…

I don't accept it… I don't want it!

How will I exist without you by my side?

Why don't you want to try again?

He lifts his head, looking at you with red, teary eyes.

"I'll change," he promises, his voice husky. "I promise I'll change. Just don't leave. Please don't leave me."

He holds your face and looks at you, with hearts in his eyes, knowing that you won't give in anytime soon. He uses emotional blackmail to make Yn stay, after all, she always liked beautiful words, covered in honey.

Don't you love him anymore? Why do you want to hurt him so much?

Tim desperately tries to find a way to change your mind. He knows words aren't working, so he takes desperate action...

He holds your face tightly, looking directly and deeply into your eyes.

"If you leave…," he murmurs, voice shaking. "I won't be able to live. I'll go crazy without you. Please don't leave me. I won't survive."

"You're Red Robin, you've survived worse things." YN says trying to free herself from him which makes him increase the emotional blackmail, holding you against him, she tries to cut off his line of reasoning, the blackmail, the depraved words but it seems like it only makes everything increase more…. Tim remains holding you, his grip becoming firmer as YN tries to break free. He can see that you are not giving in easily and desperately grasps at any means possible to make you stay.

He presses his face against your neck, his voice shaky as he murmurs.

"It's not just a matter of physical survival," he says, voice muffled by the contact of his face against her skin. "I won't be able to live without you. You are my reason for living."

"I'm going to die without you…..I'll kill myself if I don't have you by my side…" He threatens, increasingly serious and desperate, for a moment, in the name of all the love in your relationship, you fear for his life.

Tim continues to murmur against your delicate neck, his embrace becoming almost painful. He seems desperate to keep you by his side, whatever the cost. He puts one hand on your back, the other wrapping around your waist. He pulls you against him, as if he's afraid he'll let you escape.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice rough with emotions. "I love you so much. Please don't leave. Please stay with me." Tim continues to beg the same words, his embrace becoming more and more desperate as he tries to stop you from leaving.

He looks completely vulnerable, as if his life depended on it. His voice is low and full of emotion as he repeats as a pray:

"I love you. I love you. I'll get better, I promise. Just don't leave me. Please don't leave me."

When he hears your silence, his voice rises as if to prove he is telling the truth, almost shouting in your ear as he shakes and sobs in fear. Tim raises his voice as he desperately tries to convince you to stay, his words increasing in intensity as he sobs and shakes in fear.

He clings to you as if you were his anchor, his body shaking with emotion.

"I'll do anything for our relationship," he repeats, his voice almost desperate. "I'll get better for you. I'll change. I'll do whatever it takes. Just… please… don't leave me."

Tim's sobs grow stronger as he tries to hold back the tears. He's clearly desperate, his hug growing tighter and tighter as he desperately tries to keep you by his side.

With pity, YN runs an involuntary hand through Tim's hair, making him hope. "Are you really going to change?" I know he won't change, but maybe I can push the breakup further, in a month or two when he gets used to the idea.

Yn makes a mental note of the idea, without knowing that Tim himself already had plans for the two of them stay toguether forever.

Tim seems to perk up slightly when he feels your hand running through his hair, feeling you give in a little. He lifts his head, looking at you with a hopeful look.

He nods, his eyes still red from tears, but a little calmer.

"I'll change," he promises, voice firmer. "I'll be better for you. Just…give me another chance. Please."

"Okay…. the last one" with that he kisses you and cries more, relieved that you changed your mind. Tim takes the opportunity to kiss you, his tongue penetrating your mouth in a desperate and needy way. He cries as he kisses you, the relief evident in his gesture.

You still haven't said you love him too….. You do not love me anymore?

However, he is not satisfied with just the kiss, the insecurities and the countless scenarios running wild in his mind. He uses everything he can, pressing your body against his as he murmurs low, desperate words.

Will you still leave me? No, please no! You still love me?

"I won't survive without you!" he whispers, arms squeezing you against him. "You are everything to me. Just give me one more chance, please."

Tim repeats the same words, his hands roaming her body as he presses YN against him. He's desperate to keep you close, his embrace becoming almost possessive. He brings his mouth to her neck, kissing and biting the skin gently.

"I'm a dead man without you," he whispers, voice hoarse with emotion. "I won't survive without you. Just give me one more chance, please. Just one more, Yn. I love you so much..."

"…..I love you, Tim. Let's get better okay?" I confirm it when I hug him back

Tim takes a moment to process the words, his hands shaking with relief and hope. He hugs you tighter, his facial expression softening slightly. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tries to contain the tangle of emotions inside him.

"I'll make you happy," he promises, voice hoarse. "I'm going to be the best man I can be. Just… have a little more patience with me."

Tim remains hugging you for a few minutes, trying to calm down as his mind seems to spin with all the emotions. He takes a deep breath, trying to control his heart that feels like it's about to come out of his chest and YN is the only thing keeping him sane, stable, preventing him from becoming another Gotham madman.

He lifts his head again, looking at you with an almost vulnerable look.

"I'll get better," he whispers, his voice firm but soft. "I'm going to do everything differently. Just… don't leave me. Please." He continued to hold your face in his shaking hands, trying to hold you against him. Trying to breathe your air. Trying to get into your heart.

YN kisses him on the mouth, catching him off guard "I know you're going to do it differently, my love. It's going to be okay."

YN feels so exhausted by this argument, fed up and patiently reaching the end, realizing that he won't let them end that easily. So, YN changes her mind, mentally changing her strategy before Tim arrests her and chains her in the apartment.

you tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. "Let's watch a movie, hmm?" She suggests he calm down, cutting off any obsessive or paranoid trains of thought with a gentle smile.

Tim seems almost surprised by the unexpected gesture of the kiss, but he quickly recovers. His hands lightly squeeze her waist as he returns the gesture.

He nodded, his voice a little calmer.

"Yes, a film." He responds, his facial expression less tense. "That sounds good. Like we did before."

Tim moves away from you a little, but he doesn't let go of you completely. As he takes you to the couch, he remains close, with one hand on your waist, melting into Yn's warmth, the familiar scent bringing him a sense of comfort and security that only she can bring.

It looks like the film will repeat itself again.

The beautiful butterfly is caught in the spider's suffocating webs.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Every like, repost and comment is very welcome and appreciated. ♥

[tabithatwo]

are we ready to talk about shauna's barely hidden but somehow very ignored psychosis and how it, like a ton of her other qualities, is brushed aside by both those around her and the audience? like, i think its clear that a central focus of the show is the way lottie is the only one who got stuck in a facility (and natalie in and out of rehab being the next closest to reckoning with her shit) when the rest of them are very clearly not okay. as a certified Crazy Girl, i've been weary of how they'll handle lottie's story line (blurring psychosis and the supernatural is a very delicate and tricky thing and thus far i've been sort of just waiting to see where it goes). our data on and understanding of mental health is incredibly limited for a lot of reasons (but that's a rant for another time) but there is a large mainstream misconception of when hallucinations and delusions can happen. psychosis isn't just something that happens in schizophrenia and its very complex, so if you want to learn more there's plenty of info out there i'm not going to get into it here, but it happens in a lot of other cases. psychosis is, most simply put, a loss of contact with external reality. ptsd can cause psychosis, especially auditory and visual hallucinations.

so shauna is shown to have these experiences and i didn't realize that they were being so heavily overlooked by a large amount of people until the reaction to the scene where she beats lottie nearly to death. shauna is introduced in s1 as having hallucinations of jackie 25 years later. she is shown to disassociate. in 207, she both holds the baby's body and believes the delusion that they ate the baby. the episode shows her fighting the delusion until she can't anymore. meanwhile, adult shauna tells lottie she keeps callie at arms length out of "fear that she would die...i guess? or maybe that she was never even...real to begin with." then she adds "i think something is broken, lottie." implied: she's broken. something is wrong with her. this is the is the most honest about her mental state we've ever seen shauna be.

why? because lottie has always been and likely will always be perceived as crazier. lottie is the one they pin it on, lottie is the cult leader both then and now, lottie is the scapegoat, lottie is the one who got sent to switzerland. i think there's something to be said for the effect lottie has on people (again, a whole other post) but honestly, that alone is enough. shauna is feeling vulnerable for a lot of reasons and she can tell lottie that she thinks she's crazy, that she's never quite sure her daughter exists, that she's constantly afraid she'll die to the degree that she doesn't let herself interact with her in a real, tangible way, because it's always safer to tell the crazy girl you're crazy, too.

and lottie knows. shauna knows that. lottie clocked her psychosis almost immediately, when she was in the meat shed for all hours. the other girls were shocked by the makeup, and their shock was so fucking strange to me when i watched it, but now on reflecting i'm realizing maybe its the lottie effect. like, have i done the shit shauna has? abso-fucking-lutely not lol. but does my mind work in a way where i immediately would assume shauna was doing something along the lines of the shit she was doing out there, because to me its like...what else would it be? yeah. like sees like, in a way. lottie knows what this looks like at baseline, even if its coming out way different in shauna. even if in shauna it looks like aggression and violence a lot of the time. lottie gets it.

jeff doesn't get it, he thinks strawberry lube is too wild. taissa gets it to a degree, and we see shauna be the second most open with her, but tai suppresses and hides it a degree that she wouldn't dare step foot in a therapist's office (this is yet another thing that makes me crazy but is a whole other post lol). shauna's main goal in this life she's created is pretending to be normal. and she's like, impressively bad at it. but people let her, because what else are they going to do? addressing the clear issues is taboo, because we categorize people so heavily. she masks better than lottie, but it's fucking wafer thin. you see this when she interacts with people who aren't her family or the other yjs. the way she speaks to the taylors? to adam? shauna is only sometimes masking passably when she's in her set world, where she has a routine, and is surrounded by people she only has to half-convince of her sanity.

if shauna is honest about the level of psychosis she experiences, she knows she'll end up like lottie. and i think there's an argument to be made that the people around her (which at this point in her life is pretty much just jeff because she's done another common thing and insulated herself from other people, re: the way she behaves being clockably off to others who won't overlook certain things or can't relate) understand that too. it can't be addressed, because then in their minds there must be action of some kind if it is. (taissa yelling you're acting crazy, shauna is one of the most purely terrified moments we see of her in relation to shauna, because she knows she's admitting something. jeff yelling something to the same effect after the carjacking, same thing.)

the person we see try to get shauna to open up about it is callie. her teenage daughter, who bares the brunt of her difficulty maintaining reality, (who knows that shauna has never accepted her fully as her child, and seems to actually sense that there is a deeper reason for that), asks her to open up. she tells her after the club scene that she knows something is wrong. she even mentions jackie directly. she spends all of s2 trying to relate to shauna, to get her to be open with her about everything. there's no way shauna's trauma and psychosis and general issues have gone unnoticed by callie. daughters always know. they see it in their mothers before they even have a concept of the world. so we're watching a 16 year old try to get her mom to open up, because she doesn't understand fully why that's so dangerous to shauna. to callie, it may even be a secret she thinks other people are in on that she's being left out of. i think maybe she's realizing that it isn't personal and that shauna is guarded like this in general, and we're watching that happen.

callie is learning to care for and relate to her mother and she doesn't see why shauna won't let her in, because to her it's an innate truth that she'll be by her side no matter what (if only she'd let her be). she has unconditional love for her mother and that is the scariest thing in the world to shauna, because the last person who had unconditional love for shauna died because shauna didn't know what to do with it. a baby she never got a chance to meet in reality could've replaced the love that jackie gave her, and shauna was maybe starting to look forward to that, but that ended before it began. so twice shauna has killed that figure in her life. the one who loves her wholly and for who she is, which is terrifying to shauna in it's own right (she tried to take that away from jackie in their last moments, maybe you never really knew me, because that would be easier. shauna can't handle someone really knowing her because she can't handle really knowing herself because, again, that means addressing things that go unaddressed). and she doesn't plan on killing that figure again.

(if callie's even real, because the baby wasn't real when she met him and jackie wasn't real every time she's talked to her in the last twenty-five years, so who the fuck is to say callie is real?)

[admirationandromantics]

Going overboard, Epilogue

(He looks so fine, I can't handle it. Can handle him though, just like you're about to do). Anyways, this is the final end of this story. This has been such a great experience, and I've loved writing it. I know many are waiting for the next one (which will be with Chris), but please give me some time to get started on that. Right now, I have a bunch of requests to take care of, which I will also be doing while posting the next story.

Again, thank you all for the encouragement and support throughout this, and don't worry. Josh is NOT gone, you can request as much as you want. Anyways, as always, my blog is 18+ and so is this post (hint hint) so just enjoy! <3

Luckily, I got to know that both Matt and Jessica survived. Mike was so happy when they told us. Jess looked like a wreak though, I’ve never seen her like that, physically or mentally. She told us that she didn’t think she’d survive if it weren’t for Matt. I’ve never seen gratitude like what I saw on Mike’s face that day. He went straight for Matt, pulling him into a hug, leaving him stunned. 

The police were quick to separate all of us, getting each one’s story. I told the truth, everything there was to say, but I don’t think they believed me. It hurt telling them about Josh. I feared that he’d serve time, that he would stay behind bars for a long time. They decided that there would be no trial, considering his mental state. I heard his laughter from the other room, crying by myself as I wondered what he would remember, and if the traumas we went through would be the drop that spilled the glass. They decided he was a danger to others and himself, and it didn’t take long to get him to a clinic and try some new medication. Again, after another traumatic trip to that damn mountain, I didn’t keep in touch with him. They didn’t let him use his phone, and the only people allowed to see him were his parents. After four months, they let Chris visit, but it had been a long time since I saw them, so I don’t think that letting me visit was even an option. 

The friend group split. I don’t know what happened with Emily and Matt, last I heard, they were still together, but that was a while ago. Jess and Mike broke up after a while. I heard it was bad, and Jessica was the one who made the cut. Sam still talked to him, so I got some info here and there, but he is not the sort of man I really wish to be in contact with. 

I still talk to Sam, and we continue our daily coffees, only now, we talk about the last events that happened on that cursed place. She seems like she’s falling down some rabbit hole about mythological creatures and folklore. I’ve told her that we should forget everything, that maybe talking to a therapist could be good for her. She doesn’t listen, and I’m just trying to keep her present, afraid that she’ll end up as Josh. Isolated, and supervised continuously. 

I’m often invited over for gaming nights with Chris and Ashley. The games vary, but it doesn’t always feel as welcoming as thought. I often feel like an intruder, like they would feel bad by hanging out together without me. I tried to talk to Ashley about it, but she assured me that they love me, and us being together is a good way to deal with everything. I still feel like a third wheel, sitting in the corner while they have flirty interactions or Chris steals a kiss. Still, they both feel bad for me, that much I’m sure of. One of the good things that come out of it is that Chris tells me about his visits. In the start, Josh had been confused and scared, pleading with him to get him out of there. Now, six months later, he was better, the medicine finally working and pieces falling back into place. He’s bored out of his mind, joking that if they didn’t give him at least a console, he would kill himself. Chris laughed when he said that, but my breath hitched and I suddenly felt unsure. Ashley noticed, walking over to me and telling me that Josh joking like this just meant that he felt better. They’d gotten used to my cries. I was never this bad before, but even though I didn’t have a reason, it still came out. Every day, several times. I had to lock myself in the bathroom or my bedroom to relieve myself. 

***

I cut the tomato in thin slices, arranging them in fine lines on the buttered toast. A knock is heard on the door. “Just walk in Sam, it’s open” I shout, knowing when she usually comes over on her morning run. I hear the door open, footsteps out of the hallway. I grab the salt, carefully shaking it over the tomato to not get too much. Two hands make their way around my waist, pulling me into a tight body. I stop breathing as I know that this is not Sam, this is a man’s body. I look down, hands looking awfully familiar. 

“Hey” he whispers against my ear, and I feel tears coating my eyes. I turn around, looking at a smiling Josh. 

“Hey” I answer, not able to hide the surprise in my voice. My hands travel behind his neck, locking him in place. His dark circles aren’t as bad anymore, and he does look quite healthy. I still don’t know what to say, shocked by his sudden presence. He smirks, tilting his head and looking at me with sceptical eyes. 

“Well, isn’t this a first time for you not knowing what to say”

“I-I”

“We’re getting there…”

“Hey, you bombarded me wi-” I’m interrupted by a kiss, his head moving in sync with mine, hunger, lust and eight months without contact pooling out as a stress-relief. He grabs me harder, taking hold of my thighs and lifting me up on the counter. God, I’ve missed him. My legs cross behind him, pulling him deeper into me. His lips are soft and warm, connecting with mine as I open my mouth a bit, letting him in deeper. I whine, feeling the tears fall from the corners of my eyes. His hands move to cup my face, thumbs brushing away the wetness. 

“We should probably talk” I say between sobs. 

“That’s why I came over” he answers, pulling away a bit. I waste no time, taking his arm and forcing him back, his lips on mine while I sob. His sisters, the prank, the wendigos, everything poured into me slowly coming out. 

“Sorry” I whisper. “You’ve just come out, this isn’t what you need right now” I squeak, trying to compose myself. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here, and I’m not leaving again”

This makes me break down even harder, being reminded that every time we rekindle, something gets in the way. He lays my head on his flannel-coated shoulder, letting me cry till I can’t breathe anymore. He holds me up, making sure that I don’t fall off the counter while leaving sweet small kisses on my forehead. When the air is finally quiet, he pulls away, thumbs rubbing my cheeks. I feel the mascara being smudged, though that’s more my fault than his. 

“God, I’d already gotten ready today, and now I guess I have to do it again” I laugh, trying to look a little presentable. 

“You’re beautiful” he whispers, awe in his eyes. I stop the tears and kiss him yet again. 

After a while, we make our way to the sofa, determined to talk about this now, to get it over with. I walk to the bathroom to freshen up. 

“Are you sure you need that? What if you start crying again?” he shouts from the living room. 

“Haha, I’ve gotten everything out now” I laugh back. 

“You sure? It would be awfully inconvenient for you to spend half of the time in the bathroom… alone…” 

“Almost done Josh!”

I walk back out, and he’s still spread out on the sofa. I sit down on top of him, holding his shoulders as I lean down to kiss him. His hands wander, gripping my thighs and ass. 

“You said we should talk?” I tease, knowing he’s getting riled up. 

“No, no, no, no. Fuck talking, let’s do this instead” he urges, gripping me harder and pressing me down on him. I want him so bad, but we do indeed have to talk. 

“We have to” I whisper. 

“I know”

The hours go by as we talk about the incident. I get especially emotional when we talk about the prank, how he tricked me, several times. He wasn’t in his right mindset, but he would do everything in his power to get me to trust him again. He had talked to the others, but the other part of the group decided not to keep in contact. It was a toxic friend group anyway, I comment. He talked about his time in the facility, how it was scary in the beginning, cause he didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t. Luckily, Chris had told him about the wendigos, but he still had to pretend they didn’t exist and they were a figment of his imagination when they did his mental evaluation. He just wanted to put everything behind him, and move forward. After a while, the mood lightens, as we stop talking about the deep stuff. 

“You hit me!” he laughs, hitting me in the arm. 

“Well, I thought you were a fucking Psycho!” I defend myself. 

“That wasn’t the only time!”

“The way you were talking? You asked for it!” 

“You know, I should really come up with a revenge plan for you”

“Let’s not forget about what you did”

“Nah, that doesn’t count, I was insane”

“You can’t play the mentally ill-card on this”

“Yes I can”

I hit him again, and he grabs my arms, lifting them behind him, causing me to fall flat down on his stomach. 

“I think, maybe we’ll go to the bedroom, you get undressed, and I can start leaving some marks on you” he whispers, fingers still entwined with mine. 

“Really, what kind of marks are we talking about?” I skeptically ask, looking up at him. 

“Maybe a bit similar to the ones you left on me, just without the wood” 

“You’re sadistic”

“Some things can’t be cured”

I reach up to him, straddling his lap and kissing him. 

“Got something else planned?”

“Eight months gave me time to think”

“And what are your thoughts?”

“Something about you, tied up, blindfolded, begging me to touch you…” he starts, and I feel myself getting wetter. His breathing is hot, and he can’t stop staring at my lips. I smile, slowly grinding on him. Making him let out a groan. “Fuck, and then I’ll teach you a lesson” he says, hands moving to my thighs to help the movements. I bite my lip, eager to get into it, to let him get into me. 

“Fucking hell, you need to stop that” he whines. 

“You’re the one leading me” I tease, caressing his arms, making him aware of his grip on my thighs. I lean forward, kissing his neck, small pecks all over. He makes a small whimpering sound when I kiss him right below his ear, so I bite down. He jolts, giving out a loud moan. I kiss the pain away, lightly sucking. His hands wander under my shirt, grabbing my waist. In response, I grace his neck with my nails, feeling him shiver under my touch. 

He takes out his hands, placing them under my thighs. I pull away, wondering what he’s doing. 

“Jos- woah!” I yelp as he lifts me over his shoulder, holding onto my legs so I don’t fall down behind him. 

“Josh! What the hell are you doing?” I yell. He stands up, making the ground so far away that I don’t dare to scramble. He smacks my butt, making me gasp while walking over to the bedroom. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t like it. 

“You know, you’re gonna pay” he says, something sinister in his voice. 

“Oh, really?” I tease, earning myself another smack. 

“Don’t try to be a smartass, that’ll not get you anywhere” he says, caressing my legs, one of his hands moving up between my thighs. 

“Josh” I say, grabbing hold of his waist from upside down. 

“What can I do for you?”

“You can put me down”

“I thought you were into the whole Spiderman-thing” he asks, opening the bedroom door. 

“Well, that’s when we’re face to face” 

“I guess I’ll have you upside down some other time then” he says, bowing down, making me slam into the bed. I shriek, surprised by the action. He doesn’t waste time, leaning over me, capturing my lips in his. It starts hungry, but eventually finds a rhythm filled with passion and regret. I open up, letting him inside. Our breaths are heaving in sync, and I grab both sides of his face, eating him up. 

“Eager are we?” he teases, but I have no more room for jokes. 

“Eight months Josh…”

“Yeah, I know”

We continue the assault on each other, chests heaving and bodies grinding. With every passing second, my body grows hotter and wetter. I grab hold of the hem of his shirt, dragging it off him. I’m mesmerized. 

“Have you been working out?” 

“Wasn’t much to do there” 

“Fuck” I mumble as I feel him up, memorizing his lines. He eagerly drags my shirt off, shocked by the fact that I’m not wearing a bra. 

“And you were saving this sight only for me?” 

“Only you” I smile, loosening his belt. He grabs both my hands, holding them over my head. 

“Let’s not get right to the main course” he purrs in my ear. 

“Oh, please, I’ve waited long enough”

“Patience” he whispers, voice vibrating hot against my skin. He leaves a trail of kisses, starting on my lips, moving slowly down my neck. With his free hand, he grabs my breast, squeezing and fickling with my nipple. I moan from his touch, legs automatically pressing against each other, longing for some type of friction. My core aches for him, being turned on for so long that I feel like a primal animal. He notices, and places his knee in between, making me grind down on him. 

“You’re too eager”

“Fucking hell Washington, if you don’t do anything in the nex-”

“Oh my, of course. Whatever you say m’lady” he smiles, entertained by my longing for him. He strokes his fingers over my wetness, noticing that I’m drenched through. I ache for him, him and his touch. I have for eight fucking months. 

“God, you have been waiting for this” he calmly exclaims, hand unbuttoning my pants and sliding under. He goes into my panties, coming in contact with my folds immediately. I whine, feeling his faint touch. His thumb starts rubbing circles around my clit, and the longing pleasure I’ve been waiting for seeps through my body. I let out loud moans which are drowned by his kisses. 

“You’re doing so good for me” he whispers, inserting one of his fingers. He pushes in and out, continuing to put pressure on my clit. The knot in my stomach tenses abnormally quick, and I throw my head back as he starts kissing my collar. He chuckles against my skin, noticing how down bad I am for him. He doesn’t stop, working his fingers and toying with my breasts until I come all over him. 

“Good, good” he whispers as I breathe heavily. He makes his way down, taking hold of my pants and dragging them completely off. Before he goes down again, he takes off his own, leaving him in only his boxers. I see his hardness through the fabric, the size of it drenching my already soaked underwear. He lies on top of me, hand caressing my stomach and moving to my waist. He takes hold, spinning me around on my stomach. I give a yelp, but he quickly puts a bit of his weight on top, caging me under him, unable to move. 

“Don’t think you’re getting away that easy” he whispers as his hand moves down to my panties, dragging them off. 

“Fuck, Josh please” I plead, having been ready for him for a long time. I immediately hear a loud smack, before feeling stinging pain on my ass cheek. I cry out, and he moves his hand to rub the painful area. 

“Tell me exactly what you want” he purrs in my ear, hand not moving. 

“I want you Josh” I whine, feeling tears in the corners of my eyes. A loud smacking noise fills the room again, but this time I moan out his name. He smirks, hand rubbing soft circles, numbing the pain. 

“You need to go into more detail than that” 

My mind is fogged, the instincts being mere sexual as everything he does and says turns me on more. 

“You’re practically dripping, like getting manhandled that bad?” he comments, fingers gracing my warmth and making me give out a choked cry. 

“Just tell me what you want and I’ll get you right off” he coys, smirking as he kisses my neck. I try to steady my voice, but it still comes out in the most erotically desperate sounds ever made.

“Please Josh, I want you inside me, now, right now” 

“Oh really?”

“Yes please, please” 

“I love it when you beg for me” he whispers as he takes off his underwear. Finally. He takes hold of me, turning me back on my back so we’re facing each other. 

“I wanna see you” he says, leaning down and kissing me. His cock brushes up against my folds, coating itself and pressing. I gasp as he goes inside me, painfully slow. He grunts as he gets all the way in, grabbing my thigh hard, definitely leaving a mark. 

“God you’re beautiful” he whispers, hand coming to my face, thumb swiping away a tear. He leans even further down, making sure our chests are pressing up against each other, and my arms move under his, and hold onto his back. 

“Josh, I’ve missed you so much” I stammer, the ecstasy of everything blurring my mind and messing with my senses. All I feel is his eyes staring, his hot breath, and immense pleasure. He starts moving against me, pelvis grinding on my clit, with no need for extra factors. I take him in, soaking and moaning, wishing that we didn’t lose two years of this. His breaths quicken, moans passing through his lips. I clench around him as I come again, and he rides the orgasm out with me, capturing my lips once again in a sloppy and panting kiss. 

“I love you” he whispers, still moving and breathing heavily. My heart flutters as he says it, my legs pressing him deeper into me. 

“I love you too” I say back between gasps, taking hold of his neck and pulling him to my lips. He goes faster, and I feel the slight overstimulation as he continues, making me whine. He gets me to the edge again, using his hand to fondle my breasts and sucking my neck. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna-” he pants. 

“Yes, please do!” I urge, coming another time around his cock, tightening. This throws him over, and he buries himself deep inside as he comes as well. He collapses on top of me, the sudden weight knocking my breath out. It quickly comes back, and I fold my arms around him, hugging and kissing his hairline. 

“Don’t leave” I force out, breathless and weak. 

“Never” he answers, just as exhausted.

[writerofsorts]

Back to Rosewood

(image creds: to the owner)

pairing: jason dilaurentis x female reader.

summary: 2x02 "the goodbye look" episode imagine/rewrite.

warnings: mentions of murder.

*read previous part here!

—————

Night had fallen upon the town of Rosewood and [Y/N] found herself in the safety of her bedroom in her home. She was seated at her desk, trying to finish up her homework. However, the work laid open in front of her, unfinished as she found herself constantly getting distracted by the events of the past few months. 

She had never once imagined that Ian’s death would bring up so much trouble for her friends and herself. The entire town seemed to believe the girls were liars, not believing their words of Ian being Alison’s killer. On top of that, she and her friends were still dealing with A along with therapy. 

[Y/N] groaned and buried her face in her hands, thinking about the meeting with the therapist, Dr. Sullivan, earlier that day. She and the girls were close to telling the doctor about their cyber bully, and [Y/N] had to admit that it felt good. 

But, as always, A was one step ahead and was successful in keeping the girls quiet. [Y/N] knew Dr. Sullivan must think she and her friends were crazy indeed by the way they had acted. 

A knock on her door made her look up at the doorway and her parents along with her brother stood there with small smiles on their faces.

“You busy, kiddo?” her father, James, spoke first. 

“Uh, no, not really,” [Y/N] shook her head, closing her books and pushing them away. “Come on in.”

Her parents entered the room first and sat on her bed while she turned in her chair so that she sat facing them. Her brother, Sid, came to stand next to her and perched at the edge of her desk, playfully messing up her hair. She gave him a playful glare before laughing when he stuck his tongue out at her. 

The parents took a moment to admire their kids and the beautiful bond they shared. Reality hit them the next moment and they looked at each other sadly, knowing what they were about to ask next was going to take their daughter’s smile away, even if it would be temporary. 

“So, sweetheart,” Leslie began, clearing her throat. “Your father and I just got off the phone with your therapist a few minutes ago.”

Just as they had expected, the playfulness in [Y/N] faded as her expression turned serious.

“Oh,” she replied softly after a few moments. “Uh, yes, today was not a good day.” 

“She didn’t tell us exactly what happened,” James spoke next. “However, she did tell us that she doesn’t think it would be helpful to continue seeing you girls as a group.” 

“So, she wants us to come in for individual sessions?” asked [Y/N], thinking that shouldn’t be too terrible. 

“Well, yes,” her father continued after sharing a glance with her mother. “Also, based on your sessions, she’s making a recommendation.” 

“Which I’m not a fan of,” her brother added to the conversation for the first time. 

“W-what recommendation?” [Y/N] asked. Her worry grew with her brother’s words and she looked at him once before turning towards her parents again.

“Dr. Sullivan doesn’t think you girls are capable of maintaining a healthy friendship at the moment,” Leslie explained with sympathy lacing her voice. “So, she’s recommending that you girls spend some time apart.”

“Are you saying that I can’t see or talk to my friends?” [Y/N] asked in disbelief.

“This is not forever, honey,” James replied quickly. 

“I don’t understand what the shrink is trying to do here by splitting up [y/n/n] and the girls,” Sid commented. “They’ve been through so much. And, now with everything that’s happened with Ian, separating them is a terrible idea!” 

“I know, son,” sighed James. “The other parents and we talked. We all mutually agreed that Dr. Sullivan’s suggestion might be for the best.” 

“Unbelievable,” Sid muttered with a shake of his head. 

“[Y/N], sweetheart, say something,” Leslie said softly. 

“I- I don’t know what to say,” [Y/N] replied with a shrug. “It looks like you guys have already decided.” 

“It’s just temporary, we promise,” her mother answered apologetically. 

[Y/N] dropped her gaze to the floor. She wanted to be upset and throw a tantrum, but that was not her. At the same time, she knew without a doubt that she and her friends would not just stop hanging out.

Even with this new restriction from their parents, [Y/N] was sure that she and the girls would find a way to connect and deal with the fallout from Ian’s death as well as the threat of A. They had to. 

“I understand,” she said, looking back up at her parents with a light smile. 

Her parents gave her a hug and thanked her for being understanding before leaving her room. Her brother, however, hung back with a suspicious look in his eyes. 

“What?” [Y/N] asked, crossing her arms across her chest. 

Her brother didn’t reply and waited until he was sure their parents were downstairs and out of earshot. 

“You and your friends are not gonna listen, are you?” he asked quietly, his lips curled in a smirk, and [Y/N] sighed. 

“Look, I feel bad, but we can’t just not hang out,” she answered softly. “There’s a lot going on and we need each other.” 

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Sid's playfulness disappeared and he moved to hug her, not liking the fact that his little sister was under a lot of stress. “I’m on your side in all of this. If you need anything, I’m right here.” 

“I know,” she said, hugging him back. “Thank you.” 

“Just be smart in sneaking around, though,” he teased, pulling back from the hug and ruffling her hair. 

“For sure,” [Y/N] chuckled, nodding in agreement. 

…

Later that night, [Y/N] was woken up by the vibration of her cellphone on the nightstand. She grabbed the phone to see a text message from Spencer: ‘S.O.S.’ 

[Y/N] quietly made her way down the stairs to grab her coat and sneakers. Just as she finished wearing her coat, her phone vibrated yet again and she checked it to see a text from Hanna this time: ‘I’m waiting in your backyard.’ 

[Y/N] loved that she and Hanna were not only the best friends but neighbors as well. That was how they became close, anyway. Still when it came to sneaking out at night to meet up with her friends, she wasn’t a big fan as she didn’t like the dark. But with Hanna, it was easier and she didn’t feel as scared. 

She hurriedly wore her shoes and slipped out of her house through the backdoor to see Hanna waving at her while her other hand was buried in her coat pocket. 

“Can’t believe Dr. Sullivan thought she could keep us apart from each other,” Hanna scoffed when [Y/N] reached her. “You can’t tell a lot about a person by their shoes, after all.” 

“We’ll talk about it later,” [Y/N] said, half amused as she dragged Hanna with her. “Now, let’s go.”

The night was dark and chilly as the two friends made their way towards the greenhouse where Spencer had told the girls that she would be waiting. 

When [Y/N] and Hanna reached the greenhouse, Aria and Emily were already there with Spencer. The five girls huddled closer together and Spencer began to explain about why she had messaged them all so late. 

“Anyone could’ve sent that, Spence,” Aria was the first to speak after Spencer showed the girls a text that Melissa had received from an unknown number. 

“Yeah, it could be some jerk trying to mess with Melissa,” Hanna added. 

“Maybe, but it doesn’t seem random,” Spencer sighed, looking down at the message again and reading it. “It’s not safe. I can’t tell you.” 

“I can’t tell you what?” Emily asked, her brows furrowed in thought. 

“Wherever he is,” Spencer said, sounding confident. 

“Spence, Ian is dead,” [Y/N] spoke, wrapping her arms around herself. The thought of Ian being alive made her feel uneasy. “I mean, we all saw him, didn’t we?” 

“True,” Hanna said, touching [Y/N]’s forearm over her coat. “But, there’s only one way to know if its Ian texting Melissa or not.” 

The other girls looked at Hanna curiously as she looked at Spencer with determined eyes. 

“Answer him, Spence. Ask him something that only Ian would know.” 

Spencer nodded before typing, ‘how do I know this is you?’ 

‘Ask me anything,’ came the reply almost immediately from the unknown number. 

“I know,” Spencer whispered to herself before her fingers flew over the phone’s keyboard. “What are we naming our baby?” 

“What’s the baby’s name?” [Y/N] asked once Spencer finished typing. 

“Taylor,” Spencer replied just as the phone in her hand buzzed. She took in a deep breath before looking at the phone only to gasp out loud the next second. With wide eyes, she showed the phone screen to her friends who all showed similar expressions. 

‘Taylor,’ the text read.

“It is him,” Hanna whispered in disbelief. 

“Oh my god,” Emily said just as [Y/N] spoke, “Ian is alive.” 

As if the girls weren’t already terrified, the wind outside suddenly picked up and the greenhouse’s doors started to slam over and over again. 

“Did things just get incredibly worse?” Aria asked, trying to speak louder over the sound of the wind. 

“I don’t believe this,” Emily said, shaking her head. “Ian’s dead.” 

“Zombies don’t text, Emily,” Hanna said sarcastically. “He is alive somewhere.” 

“Spence?” [Y/N] called when the girl in question remained silent for a long time. 

“I have to get this phone home before Melissa notices that it’s gone,” Spencer said, her lips almost trembling. 

“Okay and then what?” Hanna questioned as the wind continued to blow rather wildly outside. “What do we do about this information?” 

“Do we tell the cops?” Aria asked, shivering a little. 

“That’s not a good idea,” [Y/N] answered. “Telling the cops never works out well for us.” 

“True,” Emily sighed in defeat. 

“Why is Ian texting Melissa anyway?” Aria asked but before Spencer could answer, Hanna added, “And, why is Melissa answering him?” 

“Is she?” asked Emily, skeptic. “I mean, we don’t know how long this has been going on.”

“Spence, you’ve got to find out what Ian told Melissa,” Aria said to the stressed-out girl. “You are the only one who can find out what he wants.” 

“And, where he is,” Hanna commented. 

The slamming of the door got louder than before and suddenly rocks started to fall off the roof, causing the girls to panic further. 

“Let’s get out of here,” [Y/N] spoke, grabbing Hanna and Aria’s hands, who were standing next to her, and dragging them towards the exit. Emily and Spencer weren’t far behind. 

Once they got to a safe distance from the greenhouse, things were strangely quiet except for the soft chirping of crickets. They walked down to Spencer’s house which was closer. 

“Let’s just finish this at school,” Hanna spoke first. “I’m cold, damp, and scared. We could talk at school.” 

“We can’t talk at school, remember?” [Y/N] asked once they stopped near Spencer’s house.

“Yeah, the five of us are supposed to have separate time,” Aria said in disappointment. 

“Doctor’s orders,” Emily said with a roll of her eyes. 

“So, what are we supposed to do?” scoffed Hanna. “Not talk to each other when we’re all literally in the same classes?” 

“We just have to play it cool,” Spencer said calmly even though she was anything but after everything that happened. 

Before the girls could talk further, a loud noise interrupted them. They turned in the direction of the noise and were surprised to see a familiar face outside the DiLaurentis house. 

“It’s Jason,” Spencer whispered, surprised. 

[Y/N], meanwhile, froze in her spot. The last time she had seen Jason was several months ago when he visited her at the hospital after A hit her with their car. 

Even though it was dark, she could still make out his appearance and she was taken aback a little by what she saw. The last time he was in Rosewood, he seemed… put-together, for the lack of a better word. He wore suits and had his hair done nicely, not one strand out of place. 

Seeing him now, however, reminded her of the old Jason. His hair had grown a little and fell over his forehead as he bent down. He was wearing a fitted Henley shirt that hugged his muscles with denim jeans. He definitely looked good and she had to try her best to not blush at her own thoughts, especially in front of her friends. 

Hanna slowly slipped her arm around [Y/N]’s, pulling the latter out of her thoughts. 

‘Did you know he was back?’ Hanna mouthed and [Y/N] shook her head in denial. 

“Did he move back in?” Hanna asked, clearing her throat lightly. 

“Looks like it?” Aria said, sounding unsure just like the rest of them. 

“What is all that?” Spencer asked in confusion as she and her friends watched Jason throw away a bunch of things into the dumpster. 

“That looks like all the stuff people left on their curb when Ali went missing,” Aria said. 

“Maya said her family kept those things when they moved in,” Emily added. “They didn’t have the heart to throw them out.”

“Apparently, Jason’s moved on,” Spencer said with sarcasm and [Y/N] frowned at the brunette’s tone. 

“What is he doing in that house anyway?” asked Aria. 

“You know what? We’ve already got a lot on our plates,” Hanna said, trying to shift the conversation away from Jason. “Let’s just go home.” 

“Han’s right,” [Y/N] said, grateful for Hanna’s interference. “See you guys at school tomorrow.” 

The other girls agreed and said their goodbyes before splitting up. 

“[y/n/n], did you know Jason was coming back?” Hanna asked again when it was just herself and [Y/N]. 

“No, I didn’t,” [Y/N] replied. “The last time I saw him was at the hospital. I remember he said he would be coming back but he didn’t exactly keep me updated. I mean, he didn’t have to.” 

The girls soon reached [Y/N]’s backyard and paused in front of the door. 

“Do you think he’s moved back for good?” Hanna asked softly. 

“I don’t know,” [Y/N] shook her head. “But, why would he, though? It’s not like there’s anything here for him, is there?” 

“You never know,” Hanna replied softly. 

[Y/N] smiled a little at her best friend; the fact that Hanna was so hopeful regarding her and Jason touched her. 

“Go get some sleep, Han,” [Y/N] said, playfully pushing the blonde in the direction of her house. 

“You’re no fun,” Hanna pouted, walking backwards. 

“Good night, Hanna banana,” [Y/N] laughed, opening the backdoor quietly. 

“Good night, [y/n/n],” Hanna said back before the two girls entered their homes at the same time to get some sleep. 

…

“Wait, so Jason doesn’t believe that Ian killed Ali?” [Y/N] asked in a whisper, glancing at the closed door of her bedroom once. 

The next evening, [Y/N] was in her bedroom, scrolling through her twitter feed when she received a call from Spencer. The younger Hastings had gone to welcome Jason back to town – in other words, she had gone to spy on him – and it hadn’t gone so well. After returning home, [Y/N] was the first person Spencer had called to share how her conversation with Jason went. 

“I mean, I think so?” Spencer replied in a whisper as well and [Y/N] could feel the frustration in her friend’s voice. “He asked me if Ian said the words I killed Ali and I told him he didn’t, but that’s what it seemed like and he got all snippy about it!”

Spencer huffed out a breath and [Y/N] bit her lip in thought. 

“Do you think he’s in denial?” Spencer asked, continuing their chat quietly. “He and Ian were besties. He probably doesn’t want to accept that his best friend killed his little sister?” 

“I’m not sure, Spence,” replied [Y/N]. “Even if they were best friends, Jason can’t just look past the fact that Ian killed Ali.” 

“That’s what I’m saying!” Spencer agreed. “Hey, do you remember that one day Ali and Jason were fighting?” 

“You have to be a bit more specific because all they did was fight around us,” [Y/N] said, mild amusement lacing her voice and Spencer scoffed out a laugh. 

“I’m talking about the time Jason was mad at Ali for going to his room and messing with his stuff?” Spencer recalled and [Y/N] found herself nodding at the memory. 

“I do,” she said. “That’s when Ali made that comment about things being hidden until she wants them found, right?” 

“Yes!” Spencer exclaimed, trying her hardest to keep her voice quiet. 

“But, why are we suddenly talking about the past?” [Y/N] asked, confused. 

“I- I had a thought,” Spencer said, her words coming out slowly which worried [Y/N]. 

“What is it?” 

“Jason used to be so aggressive, [y/n/n]. Do you think he-” 

“Spence, don’t go there,” [Y/N] interrupted quickly. 

“You didn’t let me finish!” argued Spencer. 

“You were going to suggest Jason had something to do with Ali’s murder,” [Y/N] said, not liking the words that left her mouth. Spencer’s brief silence on the other end was all the answer [Y/N] needed to know that she was right. “Where’d you get the idea that Jason could be an accomplice in Ali’s murder?” 

“I don’t know what else to think,” Spencer admitted quietly. “He’s suddenly back in town and doesn’t believe Ian killed his sister.” 

“Don’t do this, Spence,” [Y/N] advised softly. “We’ve already got zombie Ian and A on our hands. Let’s not add Jason into the mix.” 

“I guess so,” sighed Spencer. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, don’t be,” [Y/N] replied. “I understand we’re all kind of on the edge right now. But, let’s not overthink. For now, at least.”

“I’ll try,” Spencer sighed again, dramatically this time, causing [Y/N] to chuckle. 

“Hey, I should go now,” said [Y/N]. “I’ve been in my room for a while now. I should make an attendance downstairs for dinner.”

“Yeah, of course,” Spencer laughed. “See you in school tomorrow?” 

“Definitely,” [Y/N] responded. “Good night, Spence.”

“Good night, [y/n/n],” Spencer replied before hanging up.

...

The girls were sneaking out yet again in the middle of the night. [Y/N] was starting to dislike Dr. Sullivan because she hated that greenhouse with a passion. It was creepy, to say the least, but she and her friends had no other choice. 

“It was in the pocket of her coat,” Spencer said, showing her friends pictures of Melissa’s ultrasound. “Her coat was wet and so were her boots.” 

“She lied to you about going out?” [Y/N] asked. 

“I don’t think she went far,” replied Spencer. “I checked the driveway and it was dry under her car so I don’t think she drove anywhere.” 

“Who would she want to show these to?” Aria asked, handing the ultrasound pictures back to Spencer. 

“I can only think of one person,” Hanna said with a roll of her eyes. 

“Ian,” Emily said, letting out a deep breath. “Spencer, if you’re saying she didn’t drive anywhere to see him, then that means he must be close.”

“Han, you were right,” Spencer said. “This is the worst time to be splitting up. We have to stick together.” 

“Exactly, no matter how much lying it takes,” Hanna nodded. 

“If only all of our parents were like my brother,” [Y/N] sighed. 

“Can we switch siblings?” Spencer pouted at [Y/N], who instantly shook her head. 

“Absolutely not,” [Y/N]’s instant reply was met with light laughter from her friends and they all cherished it. It had been a while since they’ve had the chance to be normal teenagers and to just have fun. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Aria said after a while and the girls agreed before walking out of the greenhouse. 

They were passing by the DiLaurentis house again when Emily suddenly stopped in her steps, causing the other girls to do the same.

“What is that?” she asked, looking at what appeared to be garden supplies laying on the front yard of the house. 

Before they could inspect further, a bright flashlight shone in their faces and they held their hands in front of their eyes. 

“Jason?” Spencer asked first, squinting at the taller man and he finally lowered the flashlight. 

“Oh, it’s you,” he said after he noticed the familiar girls in front of him. 

“Yeah, it’s only us,” Aria answered with an awkward smile. 

He turned off the flashlight and when he looked up, his gaze fell on [Y/N].

“Hey, are you better now?” he asked her, his voice softening. “I haven’t seen you since the accident.” 

“Oh, uh, yes, I’m better now. Thank you,” [Y/N] replied, smiling lightly at him. She felt nervous with his attention on her. It also didn’t help that she could feel the curious eyes of Aria, Emily, and Spencer on her as well. Except for Hanna, the other girls didn't know about Jason visiting her at the hospital. 

“So, what have you been up to?” Hanna asked Jason casually, shifting the attention away from [Y/N] for which the latter was grateful for. 

“I’ve been replanting all day,” Jason replied. “I’m putting up a fence as well.” 

“A fence? Why?” Spencer asked – her eyes and voice were obvious of her suspicion of Jason. 

“Privacy, security,” Jason answered, his voice turning a little rough. “There’s a lot of curious creeps in the world and one way or another, people are gonna mind their own business.”

The girls looked at each other subtly, feeling a little uneasy with Jason’s piercing eyes shifting between them. 

“You girls better go home,” he said before turning to walk back into his house. 

The girls walked a little further away and stopped by the side of the road again when they heard the sound of Jason shutting the door. 

“[y/n/n], you didn’t tell us Jason visited you,” Spencer shot instantly.

“I didn’t think it was important,” [Y/N] replied, shrugging a little. 

“But, why did he visit you?” Aria asked, frowning in confusion. 

“He was probably being nice, Aria,” Hanna answered before [Y/N] could. “And, yes, I know that he visited [y/n/n], because I ran into him there.” 

[Y/N] looked at Hanna at the blonde’s easy lie. Hanna didn’t meet Jason at the hospital; [Y/N] had told Hanna about Jason visiting her with some get well soon gifts. Since Hanna was already aware of her feelings towards Jason, she was the only person [Y/N] felt comfortable sharing about his unexpected visit with. 

“Look, he probably visited me, because he felt obligated to since he worked on Ali’s memorial with us,” [Y/N] said, hoping to move past this topic. 

“That makes sense,” Emily said calmly after a few moments, which caused Aria and Spencer to loosen up a little as well. “And, am I the only one thinking who is Jason trying to keep out with that fence?” 

“Keep out or keep in?” Spencer asked back, and [Y/N] could tell the former still believed that Jason was helping Ian hide and had some part in killing Ali. 

“Look, it’s too late to be doing this,” Hanna said. Similar to [Y/N], Hanna had an idea of where Spencer might be going with this and she was exhausted to be working on any more mysteries for the night. “Let’s just do this at school tomorrow or whatever.” 

[Y/N] internally sighed in relief when the other girls agreed with Hanna and parted ways, making their ways towards their houses. 

“Thanks for the rescue back there,” [Y/N] told Hanna once it was just the two of them. 

“Anytime, [y/n/n],” Hanna grinned, looping her arm around [Y/N]’s, making the latter chuckle. 

The two made their ways towards their homes in comfortable silence, hoping to get some rest before facing the stressful days ahead.

—————

[carionto]

What Humans call the "Thousand Yard Stare"

As more and more Humans interact with and integrate within Coalition stations, reports, closer to hushed whispers really, began to circulate of some Humans being... discomforting... to be around.

Initially we thought it was just rudeness or passive aggressive behavior or any number of subtle actions or choice of words, no matter how advanced or civilized there will always be some assholes.

However, when some of these "offenders" were presented to us peacekeepers, we found them to be perfectly polite and reasonable. As our conversation continued and shifted topics, whenever there was a lull or the focus was on another speaker for a longer time, the Human's gaze drifted somewhat.

Sometimes she would look to the side and it was harder to tell what her exact expression was, but every so often she would be looking at one of us, but... not. It was as if she was staring at something behind us, through us even. Beyond the walls of the station, it even felt as though beyond space and time itself.

It was one of the most unnerving and chitin-chilling feelings we've ever felt, but then the Human seemed to notice our change and became that friendly and cheerful person once again:

"Sorry, my mind drifted there for a bit. What were you saying?"

And the conversation continued as if nothing was out of the ordinary for the Human.

Upon our return to our office, one of the Human peacekeepers heard about our impromptu assignment and offered this explanation after we told him what happened:

"Oh yeah, I think that person was a retired firefighter or rescue worker of some kind. Professions like that can be dangerous and you'll eventually encounter something horrible at a disaster site or crime scene. Probably saw someone die, or a person they rescued later didn't make it, or it was a kid... It's the toughest when you're the last one a child sees before..."

There it is again. That look, but with a tinge of sadness this time. We didn't know he was carrying such memories. The untimely death of anyone is a difficult time for those that survive, especially when it is the young whose life was still just starting. It seems Humans with their heightened senses and sensitivity to the feelings of others these kind of experiences imprint a far stronger memory than for most.

"Anyway, we've got a bunch of names for such things, but typically we call it the thousand yard stare. It's an old measurement unit, don't worry about it. I think the meaning may have changed a bit over the years, but basically some people go through traumatic stuff and they decide, consciously or not, to sort of... detach themselves from reality. It's a coping mechanism.

A few people thrive on horrible things, but they're the exception. Most of us would go crazy or depressed or any other infinite bad possibilities our brains can go in if we don't find a way to separate ourselves from certain realities. It can get real bad otherwise. It's rare, but a few go truly nuts and try to inflict their pain unto others. Most end up suffering alone for a long time. And some can't take it anymore and decide to end it themselves.

Thankfully therapists and support options are widely available, so those kind of scenarios are really rare, like... suicide accounts for about three out of a hundred thousand deaths last time I saw those charts. Plus drones and automation take care of most of the dangerous tasks, leaving the vast majority of cases to be caused by interpersonal relations actually. A broken heart is one of those traumas we'll never get rid of it seems. That's just life, I guess."