#his mother being blamed for didn't keep her promise

[stxrsoldier]

aiden at secret invasion so far be like :

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 2

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦,"

summary: as time progressed, Joel notice something's wrong and then at one night, You stood at his door, looking disheveled and distressed, your face streaked with tears and your clothes rumpled. 

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, r4p3, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 2

masterlist of the series!

previous | chapter one

next | chapter three

Saturday arrived with a sense of dread you couldn’t shake. The dinner invitation at Tommy and Maria's hung over your head like a dark cloud. Joel had decided to come, partly due to Ellie and Tommy's insistence, and also because it was a chance to catch up with your family, the Gibsons.

The aftermath of last Sunday's beating from your father for abandoning your duty at church service had left you changed. The light in your eyes had dimmed, replaced by a quiet resilience. Your body was still sore, the bruises and scars not fully healed, making even the simplest movements painful.

You worried some of the wounds might be infected, as you had been running a high fever and coughing for days. Your mother was concerned but too scared to take you to the hospital. In this small town, everyone knew each other, and a trip to the doctor would raise questions. Your family's reputation, especially with your father being the town preacher, was paramount. So, your mother did her best to care for you at home, but it wasn't enough.

You still went to school, hiding your condition under oversized sweaters. You had no close friends, just a few acquaintances, but you were well-known as one of the prettiest girls and the preacher's daughter. Boys liked you, always trying to get close, but you kept your distance. One day at school, Ellie noticed you didn't look well and asked if you were sick. You lied, saying you were fine.

"You sure? You don't look so good," Ellie said, her eyes filled with concern.

"I'm fine, Ellie, really. Just tired from studying for finals," you replied, forcing a smile.

Ellie frowned, clearly unconvinced. "If you say so. Just... take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will," you promised, though you weren't sure if it was a promise you could keep.

As one of the smartest students, your teachers noticed your decline and sent you to the school's psychologist. The psychologist observed your physical and mental changes, but you lied again, blaming sleepless nights spent preparing for graduation.

As your family prepared to go to the Millers, you told your mother you might not be able to go because your body was still sore. The scars hadn't healed, and you worried about infection. You'd had a high fever for days.

"Mama, I don't think I can go tonight. My body still hurts so much," you said, your voice weak.

Your mother, worried but too afraid to confront your father, insisted you come. "You know your father will be angry if you don't come. It's better if you come, even if you're not feeling well," she said, her voice trembling.

Reluctantly, you agreed. For the first time in a while, you applied makeup to cover the bruises on your skin, arms, and the corners of your eyes and cheeks. Your father reminded you to behave, to maintain decorum as a preacher's daughter, and not to embarrass him.

"Remember, you represent this family. Behave yourself and don't cause any trouble," your father said sternly.

"Yes, Father," you replied, obedient as always, though the words felt heavy on your tongue. The weight of his expectations bore down on you, threatening to crush the fragile strength you had left.

At Tommy and Maria's house, Joel and Ellie were already there. Your family arrived at their front door, your mother's grip on the pasta dish tightening as if it were a lifeline.

Maria opened the door with a warm smile, her eyes lighting up at the sight of your family. "Oh, Evelyn! Father Gibson! It's so good to see you all. Come in, come in!"

Your mother returned the smile, albeit a bit strained. "Thank you, Maria. We brought some pasta for adding some to the dishes."

"Oh, Evelyn, this pasta looks amazing. Thank you so much," Maria said, taking the dish and placing a gentle hand on your mother's arm. "You didn't have to go through all this trouble."

"It's no trouble at all," your mother replied, her voice soft. "It's the least we could do."

Maria led you all inside, the house filled with the comforting aroma of home-cooked food. You stepped in and immediately met Ellie.

"Hey, how are you? You didn't look so good at school the other day," she said, her voice full of concern.

"I'm okay, just a bit under the weather," you lied, trying to sound convincing.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ellie asked again, her eyes narrowing with worry. "You really didn't look well. Are you getting enough rest?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," you insisted, forcing a smile. "Just tired from all the studying for finals."

Ellie wasn't convinced but nodded. "Alright, but if you need anything, just let me know, okay? We can study together if that helps."

"Thank you, Ellie. I appreciate it," you said, grateful for her concern but knowing you had to keep your secrets hidden.

Maria, finishing her conversation with your mother, turned her attention to you. "Sweetheart, you look a bit pale. Are you feeling alright?"

In front of your parents, you forced another smile. "I'm fine, really. Just a bit tired," you said, your voice steady but hollow.

Your mother quickly added to the lie, her voice filled with false cheerfulness. "Oh, you know Maria. She's almost graduate and been working so hard on her studies. It's just stress, really, right honey?" You nodded to your mother.

Your father, ever the manipulator, chimed in with a practiced smile. "She's fine, just been studying hard for her finals. Nothing to worry about."

Maria looked unconvinced but didn't press further. It was just another sad reminder of the facade your family maintained, the preacher's household hiding its cracks beneath a veneer of perfection.

You moved further into the house, your father's charm offensive continuing as he greeted Tommy. "Tommy, good to see you! How's everything going?"

"Going well, Tony. Just keeping busy with the business and this little guy," Tommy said, gesturing to his newborn son, Luke.

"He's adorable," you said, managing a genuine smile as you looked at the baby. For a moment, the weight on your shoulders lightened.

"Thank you," Tommy said proudly. "He's a handful, but we're loving every minute."

As you continued to mingle, you felt Joel's eyes on you. He was helping Tommy with the food, but his concern was palpable. He approached you, his expression serious.

You smiled at Joel, remembering the last time you interacted with him by the lake. That memory was a rare bright spot amidst the pain your father had caused after it.

"Hey, Joel. Good to see you here," you said, wondering why he decided to come. You tried to lighten the mood, despite the pain radiating through your body with every movement. The fabric of your clothes rubbed against your skin, irritating the unhealed scars, but you did your best to endure it.

"Ellie and Tommy wouldn't take no for an answer," Joel replied, his tone a mix of annoyance and warmth.

You chuckled softly, though the motion sent a sharp pain through your ribs. "They can be pretty persuasive."

Joel's eyes softened slightly, but his concern remained. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," you lied, forcing a smile. "Just tired from all the studying. It's near my graduation, and I have to prepare for the finals."

Joel's eyes lingered on you, taking in the pallor of your skin and the dark circles under your eyes. "You look sick. Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his concern. Joel was a man of few words, often letting his actions speak for him. His gruff exterior hid a deeply protective nature, one that he rarely showed to anyone. "I'm okay, really. Just a bit run down," you replied, trying to sound convincing.

Joel frowned, clearly not convinced, but he decided to lighten the mood. "So, how's school going? When are the big finals?"

You forced a smile, trying to ease the tension. "Yeah, finals are coming up. Lots of studying and late nights."

Joel nodded, his eyes never leaving your face. "I remember those days. Ellie gives me a hard time about studying too. But she's a smart kid, just like you."

"Thanks, Joel," you said softly, appreciating his attempt to comfort you. You cracked a small joke, trying to lighten the mood. "I just hope I don't end up like a zombie by the end of it."

Joel chuckled, though his eyes remained serious. He noticed how you occasionally winced and shifted your weight, clearly in pain. "You sure everything's okay at home?" he asked gently.

"Everything's great," you lied, remembering your father's stern warning. "Just the usual stress of school and stuff."

Joel's concern deepened, but he didn't push further. But before Joel could probe further, your father suddenly joined the conversation, his presence commanding attention.

"Joel, good to see you," he said with a broad smile that didn't reach his eyes. "What are you two talking about?"

Joel straightened, his demeanor shifting. "Just catching up, Reverend."

Your father chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. "Joel, we’re at dinner. Call me Tony. We’re friends, remember?"

"Sure, Tony," Joel said, though the familiarity felt forced.

"How's the construction business going, Joel?" your father asked, his tone amiable.

"Busy as always," Joel replied, his eyes drifting back to you occasionally. "But it's good. Keeps me occupied."

Your father nodded, pretending to be interested. "That's great to hear. We should get together sometime, reminisce about the old days."

Joel's gaze met yours briefly, and you felt a flutter of something in your chest. "Yeah, that sounds good," he said, his voice lacking enthusiasm but polite nonetheless.

As they continued to talk, you couldn't help but steal glances at Joel, feeling a strange sense of longing. His concern was genuine, unlike the superficial care your father displayed. It made you yearn for something more, something real.

Joel's eyes met yours again, and for a moment, it felt like he could see everything you were hiding. His concern was like a warm blanket on a cold night, a small comfort in the midst of your storm. You smiled at him, a silent thank you for his kindness, and he returned the gesture with a slight nod.

"You remember the time we went fishing at the lake, Joel?" your father said, trying to sound nostalgic. "We caught that huge bass, and you almost fell in trying to reel it in."

Joel smiled, though it was a shadow of his usual warmth. "Yeah, I remember. Good times."

You watched the exchange, feeling a pang of longing. Joel's presence was a reminder of what you were missing – genuine care and concern, something your father could never provide.

As dinner progressed, everyone was making conversations and catching up. You remained silent, but to avoid suspicion, you occasionally joined in, talking to Ellie and responding when someone addressed you. Joel observed quietly, speaking only when necessary or when someone engaged him directly. His occasional glances toward you felt like anchors, ensuring you didn’t drift too far into the depths of your own discomfort.

When it was time to sit down for the meal, you ended up seated across from Joel. Your father, ever the sociable one, continued to dominate the conversation, regaling everyone with stories and jokes. You picked at your food, the pain in your body making it hard to eat.

Joel noticed your discomfort, his eyes filled with quiet concern. He whispered after you shifted uncomfortably for the umpteenth time, "You sure you're okay?" this time in a whisper so your father wouldn’t hear.

You forced another smile. "I'm fine, Joel. Just tired."

He didn't look convinced, but he let it go, respecting your space. His presence, though, was a constant reminder that someone cared, even if you couldn't fully accept it.

The conversation flowed around you, snippets of dialogue filling the air.

"So, Ellie," your mother said, smiling warmly, "how's school treating you?"

"It's good, Mrs. Gibson. A lot of work, but I'm managing," Ellie replied, glancing at you with a reassuring smile.

Your father, ever the charming host, turned to Tommy. "And how's the construction business? Keeping you busy, I hope?"

Tommy laughed. "Busy doesn't even begin to cover it. We're swamped, but that's a good problem to have."

Joel's eyes flicked back to you as you winced slightly, shifting in your seat. He could see the struggle in your movements, the way you tried to hide your pain. His gaze softened, but he remained silent, respecting your space.

Tommy, clearly enjoying the topic, continued with enthusiasm. "We’re working on this big project downtown. It’s a major redevelopment of an old warehouse into luxury apartments. It's been a challenge, but it’s rewarding. We’re talking high-end finishes, state-of-the-art amenities. It’s a bit of a tightrope walk between maintaining the budget and meeting the client’s vision."

Your father, clearly interested, responded with a knowing nod. "Sounds like a big undertaking. How’s the team handling the pressure?"

Tommy grinned. "We’ve got a solid crew, but it’s been intense. Lots of late nights and early mornings. Joel’s seen the stress firsthand. He’s been around to lend a hand whenever things get tight."

Tommy’s gaze turned to Joel, as if inviting him to elaborate. "Right, Joel? You’ve had your fair share of those late nights, haven’t you?"

Joel nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, late nights and long days. It’s all part of the job. We keep pushing through because, in the end, it’s worth it."

Your father leaned in, his curiosity piqued. "You’ve been in the business a long time, Joel. What’s been the biggest challenge for you lately?"

Joel paused for a moment, thinking. "The biggest challenge is always adapting to new demands. Clients want more, and sometimes it feels like we’re racing against the clock. But we get it done."

Tommy, sensing an opportunity to keep the conversation lively, added, "Joel’s been great about handling the unexpected. I remember one time we had a major issue with a contractor, and Joel stepped in and saved the day."

Joel’s expression remained neutral, but there was a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes for Tommy’s support. "Just doing what needs to be done," he said.

Your mother’s voice was bright and enthusiastic as she shifted the topic. "Tommy, Maria, how’s little Luke doing? I can't believe how quickly he's growing."

Maria’s face lit up with pride. "He’s amazing. It’s been an adjustment, but we’re loving every moment of it. He’s starting to smile more, and it's just the sweetest thing."

Your mother nodded approvingly, her smile wide. "Oh, that’s wonderful! It’s such a joy to watch them grow. We’ve always said that parenting is the most rewarding experience."

The words felt like a raw wound being picked at, each one a reminder of the dissonance between their image of perfect parenting and your own reality. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the sharp pangs of pain that only seemed to intensify with every sugary comment.

Your father, ever the performer, joined in with his own brand of parental wisdom. "Yes, it’s true. Parenting brings out the best in you. It's about guiding them, teaching them right from wrong, and showing them how to navigate the world."

Tommy, clearly enjoying the turn of conversation, added, "Absolutely. We’ve had our challenges, but it’s worth it to see Luke grow and thrive. Every milestone is a victory."

Your mother leaned in with an air of authority. "And don’t forget the importance of structure and discipline. It’s all about finding that balance and being consistent. We always said that’s key to raising well-rounded children."

As the conversation continued, your parents spoke in glowing terms about their parenting philosophy, each statement reinforcing the image of perfection they projected. The more they spoke, the more you felt the weight of their insincerity.

The pain you were trying to suppress seemed to magnify with every word. You gripped your fork tighter, the effort making your knuckles white. You wanted to scream at the facade, the false sense of superiority they exuded while completely ignoring the reality of your struggles.

Joel’s eyes flicked back to you repeatedly, his concern growing more evident with each shift in your posture. He watched as you tried to mask your discomfort, his gaze softening as he saw the strain on your face.

Maria, ever perceptive, noticed the change in your demeanor as well. "Everything alright, sweetheart?" she asked gently, her voice filled with genuine concern.

You forced another smile, though it felt like a mask slipping off. "Just a bit tired, Maria. Nothing to worry about."

Maria didn’t press further but her gaze remained concerned. She glanced at Joel, who gave a subtle nod, acknowledging her unspoken question. Joel’s eyes continued to linger on you, the concern etched deeply into his expression.

As the conversation shifted to a more religious tone, your father, ever the preacher, began to elaborate on his views. His voice took on that familiar, reverent cadence. "Children are a gift from God," he said, his eyes sweeping over the table as if to bless it with his words. "They are entrusted to us to guide, nurture, and instill the values that will shape their futures. It's a sacred duty, one that brings us closer to our faith and to each other."

He continued, the fervor in his voice rising, "The Bible teaches us that we are stewards of these precious souls. Our responsibility is not just to provide for their physical needs, but to mold their character, teach them right from wrong, and guide them in the ways of the Lord."

The words, so full of sanctimonious zeal, felt like a punch to your gut. Each statement was a cruel reminder of the gap between his idealized view of parenting and the harsh reality of your own life. You could feel your discomfort intensify, a wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm you.

Joel’s gaze shifted between your father’s preachy sermon and your growing distress. His brow furrowed, sensing the tension in the room. He saw you clutching your stomach, your face growing pale. Maria’s concern mirrored his as she glanced at you, her eyes filled with empathy.

Feeling trapped, you struggled to maintain composure, but the discomfort was becoming unbearable. You gripped the edge of the table, your knuckles turning white. The facade of your father's perfect parenting began to feel like a cruel joke, and the more he spoke, the harder it became to stay seated.

Finally, unable to endure any more, you excused yourself. "Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom," you said, standing up quickly. Your voice was strained, but you tried to keep it steady.

Your father’s smile didn’t waver, but there was a coldness in his eyes that made you shiver. "Sit down, dear. It’s not polite to excuse yourself while others are speaking. We’re all here to enjoy each other’s company." The reprimand felt like a vise tightening around you.

You glanced around the table, feeling the pressure of everyone’s gaze. "I really need to go," you said, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to hold your ground.

Your father’s smile turned colder, and the sharpness in his tone cut through the tension. "If you must go," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly as if warning you not to embarrass him further. "But do you know where the bathroom is? Don't want to bother Tommy and Maria, they are still eating,"

Before you or Tommy an Maria could respond, Joel’s voice cut in, low and steady. "I can show her where it is. I’m finished eating, so I can walk her there."

Your father’s eyes flicked to Joel, his expression softening slightly in a forced show of graciousness. "Thank you, Joel."

You nodded gratefully, feeling a small measure of relief as you met Joel’s concerned gaze. He stood up, his movements deliberate and calm. Maria was occupied with Evelyn, and Ellie was still eating, leaving Joel as the most suitable candidate to help you.

Joel approached you quietly, his demeanor gentle as he offered a reassuring smile. "Come on, I'll show you the way."

You nodded, standing up with a sense of cautious relief. As you walked toward the hallway with Joel, you could feel the weight of the conversation still hanging over you. Joel’s presence was a quiet comfort, his concern a stark contrast to the harshness of your father’s demeanor.

As you made your way down the hall, Joel glanced at you, his eyes filled with genuine worry. "You feeling okay, kid?"

You managed a small, appreciative smile. "I'm good, thanks, Joel."

He gave a reassuring nod as you approached the bathroom door. "I’ll be right here if you need anything. Just take your time."

As you stepped inside the bathroom, the coolness of the tile against your skin was a brief respite from the tension. You leaned against the sink, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. The solitude offered a momentary escape from the scrutiny and discomfort you’d felt at the table.

With trembling hands, you slowly opened your dress to check the scars, the ones that had been worsening over the past few days. The sight of them made your heart sink further. They were inflamed, bruised, and itching painfully. You traced the edges with your fingertips, and the pain was sharp and immediate. A stifled hiss escaped your lips as tears welled up in your eyes. The physical agony was overwhelming, but it was compounded by the emotional turmoil of the evening.

You tried to steady your breathing, but the pain made it difficult. Your fingers brushed the scars again, and a small, anguished cry escaped you. The pain was almost unbearable, and you felt the tears streaming down your face uncontrollably.

From outside the door, Joel’s voice cut through the quiet. "Kid, is everything alright in there?"

His voice, tinged with concern, snapped you back to reality. You quickly wiped your tears, trying to compose yourself. "I’m fine, Joel. Just... give me a minute."

There was a moment of silence before Joel spoke again, his voice gentle but firm. "If something’s wrong, you can tell me. I’m here to help."

You hesitated, the pain and fear making it hard to respond. "I... it’s just—it's nothing serious. I’ll be out in a second."

After a few deep breaths and a final check, you composed yourself as best as you could. You pulled your dress back into place, the physical discomfort still sharp but slightly more manageable. You wiped away the remaining tears, trying to regain your composure.

Opening the bathroom door, you found Joel still standing there, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of concern and patience. You offered him a shaky smile, hoping to convey that you were alright. "Thanks for waiting."

Joel’s gaze lingered on you, his concern deepening as he took in the faint tremble in your hands and the redness in your eyes. "You okay, kid?"

You nodded and smiled, trying to appear nonchalant. "Yeah, why wouldn't I?"

Joel didn't respond immediately, his eyes searching yours for the truth. “You sure? You look...like you're in pain."

Your smile faltered, and you looked down, unable to maintain the facade under his steady gaze. “It’s nothing,” you mumbled, trying to deflect. “Just...school stress."

Joel's eyes narrowed slightly, but he decided not to push further. "Alright, if you say so. Let’s get back to dinner.”

You both returned to the dining room, where the atmosphere had lightened considerably. The meal continued with lively conversation, the clinking of silverware, and the warm glow of shared company.

After dinner, your mom joined Maria in the kitchen to help with the dishes, their laughter and chatter floating through the house. Outside, your father, Tommy, and Joel settled on the backyard porch, their conversation punctuated by the occasional sound of a beer bottle opening or the murmur of crickets.

You found yourself in the living room with Ellie, who was scrolling through her phone while little Luke slept peacefully on the couch. You took a seat next to her, and she looked up, smiling.

"Hey," you said, leaning back into the cushions. "How's school been for you?"

Ellie shrugged, putting her phone down. "It's alright, I guess. Same old stuff. How about you? Finals must be tough, huh?"

"Yeah, they are," you admitted. "But it's almost over. Just a few more months, and then we're done."

Ellie grinned. "Bet you can't wait to get out of here."

You laughed softly. "Yeah, it's definitely time for a change. How about you? Any plans after high school?"

"Maybe college, if I can figure out what I want to do," Ellie replied. "So...Tell me, are there any boys at school you've got your eye on?" She tease giving you a smirk.

You blushed, shaking your head. "No, not really."

Ellie rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, come on. Everyone knows you're like the most popular girl in school. The boys are all over you."

You sighed, feeling a mix of amusement and exasperation. "I can't say I'm like that and it's not quite like that. They're just...curious, I guess."

"Curious about what?" Ellie asked, raising an eyebrow.

You hesitated, then shrugged. "I don't know, it seems like they're curious about me."

Ellie then brought up what she saw a week ago. "So...don't want to be nosy, but I saw you with Jamie the other day. Is he the one?" She gave you a smirk, clearly enjoying teasing you.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. "No, he's just a friend."

"Come on, you can tell me," Ellie insisted, nudging you playfully.

You blushed and tried to deflect, but Ellie wasn't letting up. "Stop, Ellie. It was nothing."

Ellie grinned, leaning in closer. "Okay, but don't tell anyone. Jamie's been trying to get close to me. It's been going on for two months now. We’ve gone out a few times. He’s kissed me, but it hasn’t gone beyond that."

Ellie raised an eyebrow, looking more serious. “And he’s asking for more, isn’t he?”

You nodded, feeling a knot of confusion and frustration in your chest. “Yeah. He keeps bringing up sex, but I’ve told him I’m not ready. He said he’d wait, but he keeps asking. I don’t know what to do.”

Ellie leaned back, her expression thoughtful. “Jamie’s the captain of the football team, right? Popular, blonde, not too smart?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” you confirmed, sighing. “He’s nice, but this pressure... I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

Ellie nodded understandingly. “You shouldn’t feel pressured to do anything you’re not ready for. If Jamie really cares about you, he’ll respect your boundaries. And if he doesn’t, then he’s not worth it.”

You sighed again, the weight of your father's teachings pressing down on you. "But... I’m afraid he’ll be disappointed if I don’t do what he wants. Jamie is nice and polite. His family has giving our church a lot...he also giving me a lot of nice stuff, like dress, necklace and all. My dad always said if someone’s nice to you, you should be nice back. And always obey men because they’re higher in status than women."

Ellie’s eyes widened in disbelief. "Who told you that?"

You shrugged, feeling a bit defensive. "My father."

Ellie shook her head, her expression turning serious. "That’s...kinda messed up. Just because someone’s nice doesn’t mean you owe them anything, especially not your body. And men aren’t superior to women. We’re all equal."

You bit your lip, considering her words. "But that’s how my daddy raised me, Ellie. He always says women should obey men."

Ellie leaned forward, her eyes filled with conviction. "Well, according on how Joel raise me. He taught me to stand up for myself and that I’m just as important as any man. It’s about respect, not obedience. You don’t owe Jamie anything just because he’s nice. If he can’t respect your boundaries, he’s not worth your time."

You felt a flicker of hope at her words. "I... I guess you’re right. It’s just hard to go against everything I’ve been taught."

Ellie reached out and squeezed your hand. "I know it’s hard, but you deserve to be with someone who respects you and your choices. Don’t let anyone, not even your father, make you feel less than you are."

When Ellie said that, it felt like a hit to the chest. "Don't let anyone, not even your father, make you feel less..." Her words echoed in your mind, resonating with a truth that was both comforting and terrifying. You wished you could believe it, wished you had the strength to stand up to your father. But the reality of your life loomed large and unyielding. Defiance meant danger. Defiance meant pain.

As Ellie's words replayed in your head, you felt a knot tightening in your stomach. You imagined standing up to your father, telling him that you were more than his expectations, more than his strict rules and harsh punishments. The thought made your heart race with a blend of hope and fear.

You glanced at Ellie, her eyes filled with a fierce, protective light. She believed in you, saw your worth even when you couldn't. It was a beacon in the darkness of your doubt, a small but vital spark of hope.

Yet, the idea of challenging your father felt insurmountable. His shadow stretched long over your life, dictating your every move, every thought. You had been molded by his will, taught to obey without question, to live in the confines of his rigid beliefs.

You had to pretend to be the perfect daughter, maintaining the facade that your father was the saintly preacher everyone believed him to be. The weight of this pretense was suffocating, but it was the only way you knew to survive.

Outside, the conversation between Tommy and your father continued, their voices a low hum against the backdrop of the evening. Joel, on the other hand, was mostly silent, nursing his beer as he leaned against the porch railing. His eyes flicked occasionally to the living room, where you and Ellie were talking.

Joel's expression was hard to read, but there was a tension in his jaw, a tightness in his grip on the beer bottle that hinted at his unease. He listened more to your conversation than to Tommy and your father's, though he tried to appear disinterested. Something about you drew him in, made him care more than he wanted to admit. He told himself it was none of his business, that he had no right to interfere in someone else’s family matters. But still, there was a nagging feeling in his gut, an instinct honed by years of protecting those he loved.

As Joel watched you, he saw the way your shoulders slumped slightly when you thought no one was looking, the way your eyes darted nervously to the doorway whenever a noise came from the kitchen. You were like a skittish animal, always on alert, always ready to flee or freeze. It reminded him too much of the broken children he'd seen in the aftermath of tragedy, children who had learned too young that the world was a dangerous place.

He took another sip of his beer, trying to push the thoughts away. He didn't need more complications in his life. He had enough to deal with, enough to protect. But damn it, there was something about you, something that called out to the part of him that had once been a father, that still is a father to Ellie. It was a part of him that couldn't ignore the signs of distress, the silent cries for help.

In the living room, Ellie continued to speak softly, her words a balm to your troubled heart. "You know," she said, squeezing your hand, "no matter what, you've got me. If you ever need to get away, to take a break, my door's always open."

You looked at her, the warmth in her eyes contrasting sharply with the cold dread that usually filled your days. "Thank you, Ellie," you whispered, your voice barely holding back the tears. "It means more than you know."

Joel caught that moment, saw the brief glimpse of vulnerability and the strength it took for you to accept Ellie’s offer of support. It stirred something deep within him, a protective instinct he hadn't felt in a long time.

He tried to shake it off, focusing back on the conversation outside. Tommy was laughing at something your father said, their voices blending into the background noise of the night. But even as he tried to tune them out, his mind kept drifting back to you. He didn't know what he could do, or if he should do anything at all.

As the evening wore on, Joel glanced back at you one last time, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to help, without overstepping the boundaries he was so careful to maintain.

***

The last few weeks had been a blur of routine and unspoken tension. Each day felt like a balancing act, with you trying to maintain the perfect image your father demanded while wrestling with your own growing doubts and fears. The only moments of relief came when you could steal a few minutes alone with Ellie, her unwavering support a lifeline in the storm.

One evening after school, you found yourself in your usual spot on the porch, the soft hum of cicadas filling the air. You hugged your knees to your chest, staring out at the darkening sky, your thoughts a tangled mess. You were wearing a nice white mini dress, modest yet elegant, with your hair braided into two sides and adorned with white ribbons.

You had managed to keep up appearances at church, attending every service, helping with every event, but the pressure was becoming unbearable. The weight of your father's expectations pressed down on you like a vise, and each day it grew tighter.

Suddenly, an unfamiliar truck parked in your driveway. You watched as a middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper beard and black hair stepped out. He had a ruggedly handsome look about him, and as he saw you, a charming smile spread across his face. He stood there for a moment, then walked towards you with an air of confidence.

“Evenin’,” he said, his voice a smooth drawl. “Is this Father Gibson’s house?”

You nodded, standing up and smoothing your dress. “Yes, it is. Can I help you with something?”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “Well, aren’t you a polite one? I’m lookin’ for the Reverend. Is he around?”

You nodded again, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. “He’s inside. I can get him for you.”

As you turned to go inside, he called after you, his voice teasing. “You know, you’ve got a real pretty smile. Brightens up the whole place.”

You felt your cheeks heat up and forced a polite smile. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be right back.”

Inside, you found your father in his study, poring over his notes for Sunday’s sermon. “Dad, there’s someone here to see you.”

Your father looked up, frowning slightly. “Who is it?”

“I don’t know his name, but he’s outside waiting,” you replied.

Your father nodded, rising from his chair and heading towards the door. You followed him, your curiosity piqued.

The man was waiting patiently on the porch, his hands in his pockets. As your father approached, he extended a hand with a broad smile. “Reverend Gibson, pleasure to meet you. I'm Naomi's cousin, I assume she already told you?"

Your father shook his hand, a wary look in his eyes. “Ah, yes. Nice to meet you, Mr. Smith."

The man leaned in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I was hopin’ we could have a little chat. Got some things I’d like to discuss."

Your father glanced at you, then back at him. “Of course. Let’s step inside.”

As they moved inside, the man glanced back at you, giving you a wink. You watched them disappear into the house, a strange mix of apprehension and curiosity swirling inside you.

Not long after, you heard the rumble of Jamie's truck pulling up. Your heart lightened, and you smiled, walking towards the driveway with an eagerness that belied the tension you had been feeling all day. You hung by the fences, your fingers curling around the cool metal as Jamie got out of his truck.

"Hi, Jamie," you said, your voice bright with excitement.

Jamie grinned, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. "Hey sweetpie, how are ya doing? looking beautiful as ever,"

Jamie’s compliment made your cheeks flush, and you smiled shyly. “Thanks, Jamie. I’m doing alright. How about you?”

Jamie’s grin widened. “Can’t complain. I was thinking maybe we could catch that new movie tonight. What do you say?”

The thought of escaping the confines of home and spending a carefree evening with Jamie was a welcome distraction. “That sounds great. But I need to ask my dad first.”

Jamie nodded, settling back into the truck as you approached the front door. The door swung open, and you saw your father still deep in conversation with the man you didn’t know, whose gaze was fixed intently on you.

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the unnerving feeling that his eyes were tracing every inch of you.

You spoke to your father, trying to keep your tone as casual as possible. “Father, Jamie asked if I could go to the cinema with him tonight. Is it okay?”

Your father glanced at you briefly, then at the man, whose expression was inscrutable but decidedly interested. “Jamie Lee?” your father asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” you replied.

Your father’s eyes flickered with annoyance at being interrupted but softened as he looked at you. “It’s not ideal to leave while we have a guest here, but alright, you can go. Be back by eight.”

You thanked him and turned to leave, but as you did, you couldn’t help but notice how the man’s gaze lingered on you. His eyes, though polite, seemed to hold a predatory glint, scanning you with an intensity that made you shiver slightly.

You gave a nervous smile as you rejoined Jamie at the truck, who was looking at you with a hopeful expression. “Dad said it’s fine. Let’s go.”

Jamie’s face lit up, and he slid into the driver’s seat with an easy grin. As he started the engine, he turned on some country music, the tunes filling the truck and momentarily lifting your spirits. The drive was smooth, and you found yourself relaxing, your earlier worries momentarily forgotten.

After the movie, Jamie suggested a detour. “How about we grab a drink? There’s a little bar outside of town where we can chill for a bit. What do you say?”

You hesitated, not entirely sure about the idea but wanting to enjoy the evening. “I don’t know… I’m not really into drinking.”

Jamie reassured you with a charming smile. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fun. Just one drink, I promise.”

When you arrived at the bar, a dimly lit place with a cozy, rustic feel, you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. Jamie led you inside, and you slid onto a barstool. Jamie ordered whiskey for himself and told you he’d get you something sweet.

The bartender handed you a glass, and you took a tentative sip, expecting a cherry cola. Instead, the liquid was warm and had a strong, unfamiliar bite. You grimaced, looking at Jamie with confusion. “This doesn’t taste like cherry cola. Are you sure this is what I ordered?”

Jamie leaned in, his voice low and soothing. “Nah, it’s whiskey, babe. I thought you might want to try something a bit more adventurous.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I can’t drink whiskey. I’ve never had it before, and my dad would be really angry if he found out.”

Jamie gave you a reassuring smile, placing a hand on your back. “Relax. It’s just a drink. No one’s gonna know. Besides, it’s just one drink. You’ll be fine.”

You hesitated, glancing around the bar. The atmosphere was relaxed, but you couldn’t shake the nervous feeling in your stomach. Jamie’s insistence and easy demeanor made it hard to say no. You took another small sip, trying to convince yourself it wasn’t a big deal.

Jamie’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he watched you. “Just have a little more. You might actually like it. It’s good for loosening up, you know?”

Reluctantly, you took another sip, feeling the warmth spread through you. The whiskey tasted harsh and made you cough slightly. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”

Jamie laughed, a bit too loudly, but with a genuine affection in his voice. “Don’t worry about it. Just relax and have fun. We’re here to enjoy ourselves.”

Despite the alcohol, you felt an uneasy flutter in your stomach, the drink making you feel lightheaded. Jamie encouraged you to drink more, and you found yourself gradually giving in, the whiskey dulling the edges of your anxiety.

As the evening wore on, you felt the effects of the alcohol more clearly. Your thoughts became hazy, and the room seemed to spin slightly. Jamie’s presence became more comforting, and his laughter more infectious. He kept encouraging you to drink, telling you it was all in good fun.

The bar buzzed with life around you, but the world felt distant, the sounds muffled by the warmth and haze of whiskey. Jamie’s arm around your shoulders was a constant presence, a mix of comfort and tension that made your skin tingle.

As he helped you into the truck, his touch was firm, and you leaned against him, inhaling the potent blend of whiskey and his cologne. The city lights outside blurred, a streak of neon against the dark sky, but Jamie abruptly pulled over to a quiet, secluded road.

“Jamie, where are we going?” you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Jamie’s gaze was intense, a smoldering look that seemed to pierce through the fog of your mind. “I just wanted to be alone with you,” he murmured, his voice low and slightly slurred. His fingers traced your jawline, his touch both tender and possessive.

The air in the truck was thick with anticipation, charged with an electric tension that you couldn’t ignore. Jamie leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “You’re so incredibly beautiful. I’ve been wanting you for so long.”

A shiver cascaded down your spine at his words, a confusing mix of desire and trepidation swirling within you. The whiskey had softened your inhibitions, making you feel exposed and vulnerable.

His words were like a seductive caress, stirring a deep, unsettling need. “Jamie, I can't,” you began to say, but his lips silenced you, capturing yours in a slow, deliberate kiss.

His lips were rough, demanding, and they moved with an intensity that set your senses alight. His hands roamed over your body, finding the buttons of your blouse with a hunger that made your heart race. he's messaging your boobs you slowly moan because it feels so good.

The kiss deepened, his tongue exploring your mouth with a passionate urgency. His hands were warm but rough, the contrast of his touch creating a mix of discomfort and electric thrill.

You felt a rising heat as he tugged at your blouse, the fabric yielding under his insistent fingers. “Just this once,” he murmured between kisses, his breath hot and ragged. “It’ll be everything you’ve ever wanted, I promise.”

A part of you wanted to resist, but the intoxicating mix of his touch and your own growing desire blurred your judgment. You felt a strange, almost reckless surrender, your boundaries melting away in the intensity of the moment.

"Stop, I-I can't," you said

"I promise, it will feel good, baby," he said

Jamie’s fingers moved with a deliberate skill, teasing and exploring your most sensitive spots. You gasped as his touch sent jolts of pleasure through your body, making your head swim with a mix of desire and confusion. The whiskey's lingering warmth mingled with the heat rising within you, clouding your ability to think clearly.

His other hand slid down your back, pulling you closer until you were almost on his lap. The friction between your bodies only intensified the sensations coursing through you. You could feel his arousal pressing against you, a hard, undeniable reminder of his desire.

“Jamie,” you breathed, your voice a mix of protest and longing. “I shouldn’t—”

But your words were cut off as his fingers found their mark, pressing and circling with just the right pressure. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of that delicious friction. A moan escaped your lips, unbidden and undeniable.

“Just let go,” he whispered, his voice husky with need. “I’ve got you.”

His mouth found yours again, the kiss deepening as he continued to work you with his fingers. Your body responded eagerly, every nerve ending on fire. You clung to him, your hands fisting in his shirt as you surrendered to the sensations overwhelming you.

With a deftness born of experience, he slipped your blouse off your shoulders, his lips trailing hot kisses down your neck and across your collarbone. Your skin tingled where he touched, each kiss sending a wave of heat through you.

His hands moved to your breasts, kneading and teasing, his mouth following close behind. The contrast of his rough fingers and the softness of his lips was intoxicating, making you arch into his touch. You could feel the last vestiges of your resistance crumbling, your body aching.

“Jamie,” you whispered, your voice a mix of wanting for more but you are scared, “Please, stop…”

His eyes darkened and he wasted no time in shedding his own clothes. The sight of him, bare and ready, sent a fresh wave of heat through you. He reached for you, pulling you close until you were both lying back on the seat, your bodies entwined.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Jamie, please,” you begged, a note of panic creeping into your voice as his grip tightened and his movements became rougher. The initial pleasure was swiftly giving way to pain, each thrust sending shockwaves of discomfort through your body.

“Stop, Jamie, it hurts,” you pleaded, trying to push him away. But he was too strong, his body a heavy weight pinning you down. His eyes, glazed over with alcohol and desire, didn’t seem to register your distress. Instead, his anger flared, his thrusts becoming more forceful and unrelenting.

Tears streamed down your face as you cried out in pain, your voice breaking with each sob. “Please, stop! Jamie, please stop!” you screamed, your hands frantically pushing against his chest, but it was no use. He was lost to his own needs, driven by the alcohol coursing through his veins.

You felt a deep, pervasive sense of violation, your body and spirit shattering with each brutal movement. Desperation clawed at your insides as you prayed for an end to the torment. “God, please make him stop,” you whispered through your tears, your voice a broken, helpless plea.

But Jamie didn’t stop. His grip on you tightened, his fingers digging painfully into your skin. The pain was overwhelming, each thrust tearing through you, leaving you feeling dirty and used. Your cries for mercy fell on deaf ears, drowned out by the sound of his ragged breathing and the cruel rhythm of his assault.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly, every second an eternity of agony and despair. You felt yourself slipping into a numb, distant place, a coping mechanism to survive the relentless onslaught. Your body became a vessel of pain, your mind retreating to a place where the hurt couldn’t reach you.

Finally, with a shuddering groan, Jamie reached his climax, his body stilling as he released himself inside you. The moment he pulled out and rolled away, you curled into a ball, your body shaking with sobs. The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional devastation, the sense of betrayal and violation that coursed through you.

Jamie lay beside you, panting and spent, seemingly oblivious to the trauma he had inflicted. His eyes slowly cleared as the effects of the alcohol began to wear off, but the damage was already done. You felt hollow, your trust shattered, your sense of self irreparably damaged.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Jamie mumbled, his voice thick with regret as he reached out to touch you. You flinched violently, recoiling from his touch as if it burned.

"Get away from me!" you screamed, your voice raw with pain and anger. You felt so dirty, so violated, your mind reeling from the horror of what had just happened. You wanted to disappear, to vanish from the world and escape the unbearable weight of your trauma.

Jamie pulled back, his eyes wide with shock and guilt. "I didn't mean to... I was drunk... I—" His words were a pathetic jumble of excuses, falling on deaf ears.

"Just shut up," you spat, your voice trembling with rage. "Just shut up and take me back to town. I can't be here with you. I can't even look at you."

He nodded mutely, too ashamed to argue. As he started the truck, you pulled your clothes back on with shaking hands, each movement a reminder of the violation you'd endured. The drive back was silent, the air thick with a tension that neither of you dared to break.

When the truck finally came to a stop near the outskirts of town, you didn't wait for it to fully halt before you opened the door and stumbled out. "I can walk from here," you said coldly, not looking back. "I don't want to see you ever again."

Jamie opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. He simply nodded, the look of regret and sorrow etched on his face as you slammed the door shut and started walking away.

As you walked, each step felt like an eternity, your mind a whirlwind of pain and confusion. You couldn’t go home, not like this. The thought of facing your family in your current state was unbearable. Instead, you turned your steps towards Ellie’s house. She was the only one who would understand, the only one you could trust to hold you through this nightmare.

You stumbled up the porch steps, your vision blurred by tears, your makeup smeared and your hair a tangled mess. Your dress was wrinkled and torn, a stark reminder of what had happened. You knocked on the door, hugging yourself tightly in a futile attempt to keep warm, to feel safe.

When the door opened, it wasn’t Ellie who stood there. It was Joel. You looked up at him, your eyes wide and filled with tears, your breath hitching in your chest.

Joel's eyes widened in shock and concern as he took in your disheveled appearance. "What happened?" he asked urgently, his voice trembling with worry. "What’s going on? Are you hurt?" Ellie wasn’t home; she was staying at a friend's house for the night.

The sight of him brought a fresh wave of tears, and you couldn't hold back the sobs any longer. You collapsed to the ground, your body shaking with the force of your cries. The world around you blurred into an indistinguishable mess of pain and despair.

Joel was beside you in an instant, his strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you close. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he whispered, his voice breaking as he held you. "You're safe now. I've got you."

As he held you, his heart raced, a sense of urgency fueling his every movement. He noticed the blood seeping through your legs, and panic gripped him. There was a raw, protective anger in his eyes, one that he usually kept buried deep beneath his calm exterior.

You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt. "Joel," you choked out, your voice barely more than a whisper. "He hurt me. He wouldn’t stop. I begged him, but he wouldn’t stop."

Joel’s body went rigid, his jaw clenching as he struggled to maintain his composure. "Who hurt you?" he demanded, his voice a mix of anger and sorrow.

"Jamie," you sobbed, the name tasting bitter on your tongue. "I told him to stop, but he wouldn't listen."

The silence that followed your confession was thick with tension. Joel’s face darkened, his eyes blazing with a fierce protectiveness that made you feel a flicker of safety amidst your despair. He took a deep breath, clearly fighting to keep his anger in check.

"Come on, let's get you inside," he said softly, helping you to your feet. His touch was gentle, but you could feel the barely restrained fury simmering beneath his calm exterior.

He led you into the living room, where the soft glow of the lamp cast a warm light on the room, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness you felt inside. Joel carefully sat you down on the couch. He needed to clean you up. The sight of your blood-soaked dress made his heart ache with a mix of sorrow and rage.

Joel disappeared for a moment, returning with a blanket and a cup of tea. He wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, his touch tender and reassuring, then handed you the tea.

"Here, drink this," he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "It’ll help."

You took the cup with trembling hands, the warmth seeping into your skin, offering a small measure of comfort. Joel sat beside you, his presence a solid anchor in the storm of your emotions.

"You don’t have to talk about it right now," he said quietly, his voice steady but filled with sorrow. "But I’m here to listen whenever you’re ready."

You looked at him, the tears still streaming down your face. "I feel so dirty," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I didn't want this. I didn’t want any of it."

Joel's face softened, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and fierce protectiveness. "You're not dirty," he said firmly, his voice filled with conviction. "Baby, it's not your fault."

The sincerity in his voice broke something loose inside you, and you sobbed harder, your body shaking with the force of your grief. Joel pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as you cried. “We’ll get through this,” he promised, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions. For the first time in a while, Joel opened his heart, letting his walls down to show you his unwavering support.

He held you for what felt like hours, his embrace a cocoon of safety and warmth. The tears seemed endless, each one carrying a fragment of your shattered soul. But Joel remained steadfast, his presence a constant reassurance that you were not alone in your suffering.

As he held you, Joel's thoughts churned with a mix of emotions. He was a man of few words, accustomed to keeping his feelings locked away, buried deep beneath a hardened exterior. But seeing you like this, broken and vulnerable, stirred something dark and primal within him.

It reminded him of his own past, the pain and loss that had shaped him into the man he was today. The memories of Sarah, his daughter, flashed through his mind – the way he had failed to protect her, the helplessness and rage that had consumed him. He had vowed never to let himself feel that kind of pain again, to never let anyone get close enough to hurt him.

Yet here he was, holding you, feeling an overwhelming need to protect you, to shield you from the world’s cruelty. The thought of Jamie, the man who had done this to you, ignited a fierce, burning anger within him. Joel's grip tightened around you, his jaw clenching as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

He would make Jamie pay for what he had done. There was a darkness inside Joel, a ruthless side that he rarely let see the light of day. But for you, he would unleash it. He would ensure that Jamie never hurt you – or anyone else – again. The thought of revenge, of justice, gave him a grim sense of purpose, a way to channel the turmoil inside him.

Joel's mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. He was deeply troubled by the sight of you in such pain, and his protective instincts surged to the forefront. He knew he had to keep himself under control, to focus on helping you heal. But the thought of Jamie’s actions ignited a cold, calculated fury within him.

[almostwisegalaxy]

I take care of you

Lee Eun-hyuk x f!reader

..................................................................................

In a completely destroyed city, Lee Eun-hyuk finds himself captivated by his former love. Wherever she goes, he discreetly follows, watching her every move with admiration. Y/n, unaware of her secret admirer, goes about her daily business while Lee Eun-hyuk stays close by.

As the days pass, Lee Eun-hyuk continues his silent shadow behind Y/n, lost in his thoughts and dreaming of one day having the courage to speak to him. One evening, as Y/n leaves the nearly collapsed green house, she feels a familiar presence and looks up to meet Lee Eun-hyuk's deep gaze. Their eyes meet, and in that fleeting moment, a special bond is created between them, uniting their souls in an inexplicable way. In a way that Y/n Emma can't understand, but she doesn't dwell on it too much and continues on her way.

Through chance encounters and exchanged glances, Y/n begins to feel a strange familiarity with Lee Eun-hyuk, as if her heart had always followed his in silence. Finally, one starry night, as Y/n wanders aimlessly around the building, she hears footsteps behind her. When she turns around, she sees Lee Eun-hyuk.

"Why are you always following me? "she says without any emotion in her voice.

Eun-hyuk just smiles at him. He can't blame her, after all, a neo-human isn't supposed to feel emotions. He approaches her, but keeps a distance between them so as not to scare her away.

"I'll take care of you," Eun-hyuk finally says.

Ever since Y/n woke up, he's always been close to her. When she came out of the cocoon, he dressed her and made her comfortable before she regained consciousness. Even in the cocoon she had felt his presence, and he had left her only when necessary.

She stared into his eyes, not really knowing what to think. Of course, she remembered their past together. How they'd confessed their feelings to each other that winter night. That night when Eun-hyuk had promised to find her and her sister Eun-yu with Hyun su safe and sound, but never returned. Her conscience told her to scream at him or just run into Eun-hyuk's arms and kiss him. But being reborn, she didn't feel the urge.

"Why would you do that?" Y/n said.

"Because I want to."

"Why?" To Eun-hyuk, she sounded like a child who always asks her mother why. It was cute.

"Why would you do such a thing. You're a neo-human like me, so why do you act so irrationally?"

"Because I wouldn't be Lee Eun-hyuk if I went home without you. Princess, my world is pretty empty when you're not here."

Y/n looks at her sheepishly.

"I care about you. And caring for you gives me a reason to hold on, a reason not to live without a purpose, because my purpose is you".

"But you gave up again..." she says, disappointment clearly in her voice. Regret paints Eun-hyuk's face. He approaches her, his arms slightly raised in a gesture of appeasement. "I made mistakes and failed to keep my promise."

"Forgive me," he asks without anger. He knows he can't erase what he's done with a few words, but he feels the need to apologize anyway.

I understand your reasons, but that doesn't erase the suffering we went through waiting for you. You didn't see your sister cry. You didn't feel the fear we feel every day in a hostile world.

Lee Eun-hyuk said nothing, but continued to walk toward her.

"You're telling me that taking care of me is your reason for living," Y/n murmured, her eyelids fluttering as if she had to absorb what he'd just said. She clenched her head slightly, frowning with a hint of confusion.

"I... I don't understand. How can I be your reason for living?"

Eun-hyuk smiled slightly, his gaze tender.

"It's simple," he replied, as if explaining something absurd. "My life is empty without you. When you're here, when I see you, when I know you're okay, everything seems to make more sense. It's like the world regains its color."

"I can't love you on the road. I don't... I don't know how to do it," she says.

"I will teach you," he says now in front of her. He tenderly strokes y/n's cheek. At first she flinches from his touch, then she comes back under his caresses. She looks at him sheepishly, not understanding why this gesture warms her body.

"Did I scare you?" She nods.

"Well...It would be a shame to scare the person I love " and he smiles.

Y/n looks at him fascinated.

"Will you teach me that too?" She refers to his smile.

"I'll teach you anything you want."

Then Eun-hyuk took him in her arms. The longer the moment lasts, the more Y/N feels that this is where she belongs. In Eun-hyuk's arms.

Every touch of skin resonates with infinite softness. Hands search for each other, find each other, squeeze each other with infinite delicacy, as if each caress whispers a silent "I love you". Hearts draw closer, synchronize, and in that intimate moment, the whole world fades away to make way for their vibrant, eternal love, sealing their bond in an embrace that transcends time and space.

..................................................................................

Bonus :

Y/n is sitting on the roof when Eun-hyuk comes to sit next to her

“do you have any plans for today?”

"yes, world domination"

"ok, that’s ambitious” a silence settles between them before y/n continues

“you are my world”

Lee Eun-hyuk took a while to understand "oh... OH"

She kisses him on the cheek, smiles at him before finally leaving him alone blushing

[artytaeh]

for those who read a little of my panicking about how huge the original lorenzo berkshire headcanons post was— here it is: random hcs + lorenzo as your boyfriend.

this man is so carmen - lana del rey coded. i can't say if i love lorenzo berkshire or not, help.

(l.b.) RANDOM HEADCANONS :

⭑ a big fan of herbology. to avoid some stupid comments, lorenzo insists that it's out of fascination for dangerous plants, like the devil's snare (enzo thinks that they're disgusting); in reality, lorenzo really likes to see different flora, being knowledgeable of the romantic language of flowers. one of his favorite plants are the ones meant to be pleasant and pretty.

⭑ so petty. if lorenzo has some nemesis or a rivalry, he would be try to mess up the guy's relationship, by convincing his girlfriend to cheat with enzo. prefers to punch someone emotionally rather than a physical scar.

⭑ if he has a rival that happens to be a girl, well, lorenzo finds it somewhat attractive to banter with someone. might be a one-sided rivalry, since the girl might genuinely mean those comments, while lorenzo is trying to flirt with her and get an angry make out session.

⭑ the biggest gossiper around school. as i've said before, lorenzo knows all versions of the story; might be the type of person who's a friend to all, friend to none (the slytherin boys are an exception). if you want to know something, you'll go to lorenzo berkshire. if he doesn't know, he'll know by the end of the afternoon.

⭑ became a prefect during his sixth year, because he hated umbridge with a burning passion— even though he put on a polite smile to keep himself away from umbridge's radar. even though he was offered the position of prefect at fifth year, and even had some slytherins trying to convince him to accept, lorenzo only took that place as soon as umbridge was gone.

⭑ the biggest fred and george weasley's fan. always had an eye out to testify their pranks, and gave side-eyes to draco whenever he was rude to the twins. their biggest defender, and a bit embarrassing whenever he tried to speak to those 'gryffindor legends', as he calls them.

⭑ became more of a fanboy during his fifth year, and didn't shut up about the twins until the end of the year, praising them for the chaos they created before running away from hogwarts. lorenzo is telling this story to his kids, i promise you that.

⭑ would genuinely try to become friends with his friends' girlfriends— if theodore brought his girlfriend to hang out with their group, lorenzo (and blaise) would be the first one to welcome her into the group. he sympathizes that new groups can be scary.

⭑ attends to every party, nevermind the house hosting it; as a slytherin he'll always claim that the snakes throw the best ones, even though he really likes hufflepuff's ambience. lorenzo stopped going to gryffindor parties as soon as the weasley twins left hogwarts; lorenzo tolerates any kind of music, but fuck, gryffindor makes his ears bleed out.

⭑ isn't that competitive with quidditch matches; if anything, lorenzo is the wise voice that keeps mattheo from hitting his bat straight to another player's skull. instead of being furious that slytherin lost, lorenzo has the tendency to blame himself.

⭑ could and would enter a fight if necessary. one of lorenzo's reasons to swallow his temper (in front of everyone, at least) is to keep his reputation; the other one is to keep his handsome face intact of cuts and bruises.

⭑ frequently excuses his worst actions by convincing himself that he'll change for the better, as soon as he meets the one. lorenzo would never hurt someone that badly — (maybe he's just as selfish as his mother, bellatrix lestrange, inheriting her tendency to abandon everything to pursue her own happiness. as soon as they she feels fulfilled, who cares if others get hurt?) — right? all of his bad habits, all of the things he's done; it will all be gone as soon as he's with her.

and since we're mentioning the one, lorenzo grows anxious in relationships; he contemplates whether this girl is his true match, and becomes paranoid that he's wasting his time on her, instead of the girl meant for him. to decide, lorenzo usually does a list of pros and cons about this recent fling— he'll decide to give it a week or longer than that, after considering what he wrote.

⭑ criminally pretty. the slytherin boys made a scientific study about this infuriating talent of berkshire's heir: managing to look good in any. possible. photo. no matter if lorenzo tries to look silly— he ends up looking good. so unbothered if people take photos of him or keep silly ones; enzo knows that he looks good.

⭑ 'liquid smooth - mitski' vibes. lorenzo was born to be pretty— if he's no longer pretty, if he's not stunning, or not feeling like himself that day, he will have a breakdown and throw some things around the room. for all his masks, lorenzo wonders if the only genuinely good thing about him is his appearance— if he loses it too, what will be of him, with nothing else to love about lorenzo berkshire?

⭑ so unlucky with animals— care of magical creatures isn't the best subject for him, since they seem to smell lorenzo's bullshit miles away. there was this one ravenclaw's cat that almost clawed at his cheek, when he tried to kiss his owner... well. as much as lorenzo tries to win them over, cats give him a specially hard time.

⭑ that being said, lorenzo only has an owl as a pet, specifically to be able to send letters. even so, lorenzo makes sure that she (he named her artemis) is well groomed and taken care of. he always has treats for artemis back on his dorm room, to reward her hard work.

⭑ one of his hobbies is exploring muggle london, and other cities mainly occupied by muggles. lorenzo genuinely believes that the wizardy world is much more interesting, however, he likes to experience muggleborn's life as well— lorenzo is genuinely interested on their method of living.

⭑ his favorite places at hogsmeade are honeyduke's and zonko's; there is yet to be a hogsmeade trip where lorenzo doesn't bring some honeyduke's treats with him— he usually brings extra for his friends, if he notices that one of them is having a hard time.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

(n.) L. BERSKHIRE : as your boyfriend :

this man has experience and a big heart that wants to love, fueled by his (sometimes, extreme) expectations of falling in love.

gives gifts 'just because'; the berkshire family is wealthy, and lorenzo genuinely never had to look at a price tag before; he'll do it even less for the sake of your smile.

however, lorenzo finds more value in handmade gifts, perceiving them as having more emotional value and effort, than something bought at a store. in random days, he'll gift you something that reminded him of you— in special dates, like month anniversaries or your birthday, lorenzo will work on handmade gifts.

some examples are: love letters, bracelets that he got younger years teaching him how to make, photo albums of the two of you, etc.

would have matching plushies with you, though. lorenzo would try to find little outfits for them, specially wedding themed ones; if you happen to be upset with lorenzo, he'll take his plushie to your dorm, and put the two of them on top of your bed, ''kissing.''

not the type of guy that would yell and start a brawl, should someone flirt with you in front of him. lorenzo will open a smile, and say: 'i know, right? my girl is so attractive.' in a way that might leave the other guy embarrassed.

... the thing is, as soon as you're back to your dorm room, and lorenzo catches him alone— mysteriously, it seems like he was a bit unlucky. infirmary wing, unable to go to classes? lorenzo wonders what happened to him. specially because the guy wouldn't be an idiot to land lorenzo in detention, much less try his luck with you.

loud lover that feels no shame about his relationship with you. lorenzo is a romantic person, treating you how he seeks to receive the same treatment from you: he wants you to be a proud girlfriend, the same way he is, showing off his beloved, letting the whole school (and even scotland) know that you're his.

is very attentive about dates. lorenzo knows that life as student of hogwarts is never uneventful, and that your responsibilities grow with age. even so, lorenzo makes sure that you two have a full-on date, with dressing up + planned out activity, at least three times per month. it's a sacred rule to him, that allows your relationship to remain romantic and interesting for both of you.

some of the petnames that i see lorenzo using for his loved one are: sunshine, sweetheart, angel, pretty girl. only ever uses your name when it's a serious conversation or an argument.

heavy gossiper. so mean about it too— would laugh at other people's unfortunes then make a serious face and nod as soon as you reprimand him. he's still laughing inside. as soon as he gets new source of gossip, lorenzo is running to find you.

study dates don't work with the two of you. if he gets a glimpse of you, lorenzo gives up on reading whatever annotations to look at you with heart eyes.

if there's someone you don't like, lorenzo will probably find some bad stuff about that person— just in case, you know? if there's ever an argument between you and them, you already have ammunition to strike them with! lowkey loves badmouthing other people with you. it's his favorite thing to do.

has so many friends that are girls, however, doesn't give them any chance; lorenzo is aware of his reputation and that his many flings might leave you insecure. would genuinely distance himself from a girl for the sake of your relationship with him, or change his behavior near her.

gets nervous when you watch his quidditch practices; lorenzo finds it harder to focus on defending quaffles, knowing that you're there to watch him. will ask you what you thought about the practice— discreetly fishes for some praises here and there.

whenever there are slytherin matches that he plays as a keeper, lorenzo and you will match outfits; it doesn't matter if you're not a slytherin, you will wear slytherin's colors on that day, with lorenzo's jumper on your body and his surname, berkshire, written on your back.

speaking of matching outfits: loves to match with you, or at least wear the same palettes, at least whenever the two of you go for a date together. it's a simple yet cute way to show that hey! we're together! and a happy fashionable couple!

a really good person to go shopping with. not only does he cover any cost without looking at the price tag (lorenzo doesn't want you to spend your own money, since there's no reason to) but he's really good at giving opinions. as i said before, this man dresses so well, so he has a good sense of fashion and an instinct over what works, and doesn't work. what colors favor you, and others that don't you justice.

if you're cold, and it happens to be a chilly weather outside, instead of giving you his warm clothes for the rest of the date, lorenzo will temporarily give you his coat and seek for any clothing store to buy you something warm.

l : sunshine, are you cold? come on, let's buy you a pretty coat. warmer, preferably.

🗯️ : can i choose a scarf for you?

l : of course, sweetheart. let's see if we can find a scarf that matches this new coat of yours.

this becomes a fun game; if one of you buys something, then you'll get something matching for the other. not only does it had to your collection of couple-matching-clothes, but also feeds his large wardrobe. dating lorenzo berkshire comes with extra luggage to pack new clothes, i promise you.

so patient when you're getting ready. lorenzo doesn't mind waiting longer until you're satisfied with your outfit— he knows the struggle, believe me. will help you and give you some opinions (if, and only if you ask.), not wanting you to stress over not feeling pretty enough. even if you had specific hours to leave the castle, enzo knows that any reservation can be postponed, so there's no stress on his part.

passive-aggressive. you know the term, right? unfortunately this is how conflict starts on your relationship; something deeply bothers lorenzo, he gatekeeps it to had some bitterness to his heart, then verbalizes that something is wrong by an unrelated comment.

has a hard time understanding when he's in the wrong, even though he will gladly apologize first to be in good terms with you — even if lorenzo isn't truly apologetic. he priorizes a good ambience in your relationship, than having the world knowing that he won a stupid argument.

kisses you silly. this man is so affectionate; sometimes you're just talking about whatever, and lorenzo will dissociate as he looks at you, cupping your face before peppering many kisses to you cheeks, nose, jaw, chin, lips— anywhere.

lorenzo prefers slow kisses, enjoying the moment without a rush, teasing you by giving you some glances and breaking off the kiss to smile, before tempting your lower lip. couldn't care less if it's in the middle of a hallway, or behind a tree in the courtyard— let people see that you're two teenagers in love!

speaking of physical contact: lorenzo is a bit picky over who touches his hair (he spends a stupid amount of time to make sure that it looks pretty), but loves it when you fix his hair for him. doesn't mind it if you twirl his hair between your fingers, he thinks that's sweet.

loves to hold hands, yet you'll find him walking around with his arm around your shoulders more frequently. also likes to have you sat on his lap, rests his chin on your shoulder and will have you there, even when he's spending time / chatting with his slytherin friends.

if someone's hostile with you, you have five counted seconds to defend yourself before lorenzo jumps to your defense. did someone point out an insecurity of yours? lorenzo is making a nonstop list of things that that person should be insecure about. won't apologize either— they're the one who started!

loves cliches. if you don't know how to dance, lorenzo will teach you during some sleepover to his dorm; helps you learn the steps by having your feet on top of his own, arm around your waist, hand caressing yours as you two giggle and tease each other for your clumsy first try.

would be so pouty and even pushy, if you don't feel like going to parties with him. lorenzo adores going to those— genuinely because he has fun, nevermind how chaotic it can get. besides, he wants to brag about his girlfriend! :( might suggest that you're embarrassed of him, and that is the reason why you'd rather stay in your dorm. (dramatic much, berkshire?)

walks you to classes, only failing to do so if he has classes with professors like snape, on the other end of the castle. this man is punctual, leaving slytherin's dorms early to walk you to the great hall, having breakfast together without a hurry, then walking to class while holding hands. genuinely gets better scores in assignments of classes that you don't have together— he gets distracted if you're there!

now that we're mentioning cliches, there was this one time in october, that you decided to spend the afternoon in the library to study, since it was raining outside. lorenzo came to your side, closed your books and gently took them from your grasp— then, he tugged you to follow him, lifting you by the waist to get the two of you under the rain.

lorenzo spins you on his arms; now that both are soaked with the cold rain, he makes a curtsy, asking you to dance, 'would you conceed me the honor of dancing with you, my lady?' only to kiss your hand, before tugging you closer to him, being that sickeningly sweet couple that brings jealousy to others.

not to your surprise, some other pairs did join you in the courtyard, dancing and jumping over the wet floor.

to mcgonagall's disapproval, she had way too many students skipping next day's classes for being sick.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

౨ৎ the boys, the girls, they all like ▉, he laughs ♡ ͡

like god, his mind's like a diamond, he's still shining . . .

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— lorenzo berkshire is a topic that has been on my drafts during these last days. general headcanons of lorenzo were supposed to be posted first, but i'm still working on them </3 so i plan to post it tomorrow. 🗯️ tysm for reading. ♡

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

[seresinhangmanjake]

It's What You Make It

Dad!Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female reader

Summary: Jake hasn't been on the best of terms with his parents since they found out about you and his baby, and now his mother decides she wants to meet her granddaughter.

Warnings: cursing maybe? Protective Jake

Notes: Suggested by an anon / Part of the Oh, Baby Universe.

Words: 4200

-----

“Jake, dear, your mother would like to meet her granddaughter.”

It was cruel, really, to have such devastating words leave the lips of one of those he loved the most, but maybe that was why she of all people was tasked with it. He wasn't likely to listen to another on the matter. Hell, had anyone else but she called, he wouldn't have answered, and he struggled not to see it as a bit of a betrayal. A trick.

"Gram," he sighed into the phone, running a hand through his hair, "I'm not doing this with them. After everything we just faced with her mother, why should we put ourselves through dealing with mine?"

"You know she had nothing to do with that email."

"Yea and nothing to do with discouraging it, either."

The other end of the line went silent. Jake looked to his left where his daughter was being bounced on her mother's lap just out of earshot. You smiled at the girl, but the stone now sitting on Jake's heart kept it from swelling as it normally would at the sight of your brightened face. 

His perfect little family. Safe and sound in California. Far from Texas. Far from the people you'd yet to learn criticized you for your past choices. 

When you first asked about them, Jake couldn't hide the fact that his parents were displeased with the coming of his daughter. He'd blamed it on their lack of open-mindedness to the girl being brought into his life under ‘unique’ circumstances, and while that was in fact a part of it, the bulk of their problems they placed solely in you and not trusting why you bothered to return when you left him to begin with. They buried you under a mountain of their judgment and you were completely unaware. But that was how he wanted to keep it. He wanted you in the dark. Oddly enough, the darkness was where you were safest. And that plan had been working so well, too. You had a healthy understanding of the difficulty of parents, and after the way your mother treated him the month prior you hadn't pressured him for more information on his. 

I only care about the three of us, Jake. As long as we're together, nothing else matters—that's what you'd said. You sealed that promise with a kiss that led to hours in bed full of sex and naps and cuddles and what felt like hundreds of exchanges of 'I love yous'. 

The issue with his parents wasn't brought up again.

And now his grandmother was ruining it. 

"What do you expect of me, Gram?" he asked; the first of his rapid-fire questions. "To bring them there? To subject them to that? You really want me to hurt my girlfriend? My daughter? What even makes you think Mom cares to see Eve? There's no way she admitted—"

"Breathe, dear," she soothed. And Jake did as told, but it didn't make him feel the slightest bit better. "I saw it in her eyes."

He sighed, chest noticeably deflating. "Oh, come on. I love you, Gram, but seriously?"

"Jacob Seresin, you hush," she scolded, her voice raised and tinny through the speaker. "You asked me a question, so listen up."

Jake grumbled, defeated. The senior Eve had that power over him. She was the mother his mother should have been. She taught him plenty and raised him well. He knew how to respect his woman because of his Gram. He treated you the way you deserved because she made sure to instill in him the value of women where his own parents had failed to do. 

So he listened. 

"When I returned from my visit a couple of weeks ago, your mother snuck in the casual question or two whenever your father wasn't around," she explained. "And I told her. Anything she cared to know. That Eve is beautiful and her mother is a stunner." Jake's lips curved upward despite the anxiety building in his chest. "That your girls are perfect. That you are happier than I've ever seen you."

"...And?"

"And she nodded and got a little grin on her face."

Jake waited for more, but it didn't come. His hand rose and fell, smacking against the side of his thigh. "That's your only argument to encourage surrendering the happiness of my family to a couple of snakes?"

"Snakes?" He could practically see the roll of her eyes. "Really, dear?"

"I read you the email."

The email he'd received a few weeks after he got you back and learned of his daughter's existence. The one that spat aggressive levels of disappointment in him, and called you an abundance of names that nearly had him crushing his phone in his palm. The one that expressed very clearly his parents' refusal to acknowledge the woman he loved and his baby as their family.

"No," Jake said as he shook his head. "No, I'm not doing it."

"I'm not saying you have to, dear. I'm just telling you that there is someone else who might want to be a part of your daughter's life. That's more family for Eve to be surrounded by. Another person to love her."

—-

He’d promised her he’d think about it. And while he really wished he could forget her words, they were persistent, nagging, and unwilling to get out of his way; like a damn fly buzzing around his face during all hours of his days and nights. 

His grandmother was wise and she was clever to tap into one of his life’s motivations: to provide his daughter with as much love as possible. Though Eve did have love—from him, from you, his team, his grandmother—the potential for so much more was taken away from her. 

She didn’t see your family. They lived across the country and after the way your mother behaved, you’d pretty much cut her off for the time being. His sister’s husband was in the Air Force, stationed at Aviano in Italy with no set date of return. And his parents had made their opinions clear, so he felt it best to never let you or Eve around them. But doing what he believed was best didn’t stop the guilt of denying Eve her family, of not giving her enough. He thought about Christmas coming up and how she wouldn’t have her grandparents. He thought about the major events in her life to come; the birthdays and school plays, the graduations, and the, hopefully only, wedding. 

Wait, he stopped himself, scratch the wedding. No wedding. How could his daughter possibly have a wedding if she would never be dating to begin with? 

But there was still enough remaining to worry him. 

Jake didn’t want a day to come when Eve looked around the room and wondered why she didn’t have the people in her life that her friends at school did. She deserved everything he could possibly give her, and his grandmother calling to inform him he wasn’t providing that was a stab to the heart. 

“You’re lost.” 

The voice—your voice—was one of two powerful enough to crack the thick shell surrounding his thoughts. 

Your fingers wove through his hair as he focused his vision on your face, letting the fog clear to make out the perfection he saw in each feature. You wiggled on the mattress, inching your body closer to his and he lifted his arm to drape over your waist. 

“What’s going on?” you asked. “You’ve been zoning out for three days.”

He wouldn’t lie to you—never could. And even if he tried, it would be a waste of breath with the way you managed to sniff out untruths like a damn bloodhound. The information he didn’t tell you he always preferred to label as ‘omissions.’ Those could just barely slip by your clever brain. And he’d only ever done it twice; when he’d neglected to spill his hidden love, and when he hadn’t provided you with all the details of his father’s email. Both seemed like good ideas at the time. Necessary. But now…

“According to Gram,” Jake sighed, “my mother wants to meet Eve.”

You tried to control your face, but the ceasing of your nails grazing across his scalp was enough to tell him you were plenty shocked. Likely plenty terrified, too, with the trauma of the last parental interaction.

“Oh.” You blinked once, twice, three times, as your lips parted and sealed and parted again. “So, that means…what? They're fine with everything now?"

"I doubt it, but…" Jake bit the inside of his cheek. Shook his head. “Honey, I’m really not sure.”

“You trust them?”

“No.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

He didn’t know, not even after three days of thought. He cared about protecting his family, but whether or not introducing his mother to you and his daughter would be a choice he'd come to regret was hard to say. “What do you think we should do?”

“Baby, your family, your decision.”

With a groan, Jake pulled you closer and turned onto his back, settling your body on top of his. 

“But you’re so much smarter than me,” he said, wrapping his arms snuggly around your waist and tilting his chin up for a kiss.

You let him kiss you, despite the weight of the conversation surely causing you as much unease as it was him. You let him kiss you for as long as he wanted. Like you knew just how badly he needed it in that moment. How badly he needed you. 

“You’re no idiot, Jake Seresin," you said when he decided it was fair to let you breathe. "I’ll do whatever you think is best.”

He hummed, pushing some of your hair back behind your shoulder. “Why do you have to be so damn supportive and reasonable?”

You smiled so sweetly. Leaned in closer. 

“Because I trust you," you whispered, letting your lips slowly travel around his face, pressing gentle kisses where you could. "And I believe in you."

You pulled back, locking your eyes with his, and as you stroked his cheek, you said, “Because you’re my teammate, Jake.” 

He let your words soak in—filling him, sating him—before taking a deep inhale through his nose. On the heavy exhale he released a breathy “Fuck.”

You chuckled. “What?”

“It’s just extremely hot when you say shit like that and I am trying to make a decision that really isn’t helped by my dick getting hard.”

He swelled larger in his underwear as he spoke and he could see the very second that mischievous glint took root in your eye.

“Aw," you pouted, slightly grinding your hips into his, making his breath hitch, "Does my man get turned on by commitment?"

His fingers dug into your waist to hold you still, and with a scowl, he said, "You already knew that so quit teasing me."

“Who's teasing?" You asked as you gave him a peck. "You've been distracted for three days, and I miss you. So let me take your mind off it. Then we can get some sleep and talk it over in the morning."

He loved you for that. That you knew him enough to refrain from pushing him in any direction. You knew enough to know when he needed a distraction from the things that most bothered him. 

"Deal," he whispered. Then his fingers tangled in your hair and he pulled your face closer to his. 

—-

It wasn't talked about in the morning. Not that one nor the weeks worth that followed. The distraction Jake had been so thankful for continued to find itself in the forms of wake-up sex, and invigorating work days, and evenings filled with dedicated family time—things he actually cared about. Thinking about what to do with his mother had been bothersome enough that at the first chance to brush it aside, it slipped from his mind without effort. And he didn’t care, just as he didn’t care how his life had completely split after his father sent that email. 

It was a clean severing, like a hot blade through butter, and the two new parts were far from equal. You and his daughter occupied one chunk of his divided world—the larger of the two—and the other chunk was where his parents remained, dwarfed under the shadow of its massive counterpart. It was too easy to let go of that extra bit that was hanging off the end of what was an otherwise perfect life, so he did. 

He didn’t follow up with his grandmother—

A mistake he discovered when his mother walked through the front door of the Hard Deck and disrupted the peace surrounding his little family.

His trio had decided to have lunch with Rooster at the bar well before opening hours, and it was the lack of overlapping voices, clinking glasses, and occasional drunken shouting which allowed for the clicking of heels across hardwood flooring to echo clearly throughout the room. 

Three voices went eerily silent, the only continuous sound being that of Eve shaking her rattle toy, lost in the sweet ignorance of childhood and completely oblivious to the thickness that had just swelled throughout the bar. 

Jake glared at his grandmother who was just off to the side of her daughter-in-law. She stared back, a look of complete innocence on her face until she grew bored with silent standoff and, with a roll of her eyes, made a beeline for you and Eve. She smiled wide, immediately popping the bubble that was holding everyone hostage, to give you a little hug around the shoulders before kissing the top of Eve’s head. 

“Oh, I missed you,” she said as huddled beside the small girl.

Jake stood from the rounded table and crossed his arms over his chest, the movement broadening his shoulders and thickening his muscles, like an animal determined to protect his mate and cub from any predator bold enough to test him. And as far as he was concerned, that was exactly what he was looking at. The woman standing still as a statue twenty feet from him was not someone he recognized anymore. He couldn’t guarantee that her next move would not be in the form of a threat, so he didn’t risk it. 

His mother raised her hand in a wave weakened by uncertainty. “Hi, sweetheart.”

Her voice was meeker than he expected, and she stood less confidently than he’d ever known in his thirty-four years. Her styled hair and perfectly painted nails and carefully applied makeup suddenly seemed unnatural on the woman before him, like an ill-fitting costume hanging off her body with an uneasy facial expression to match. 

“Gram,” Jake began, a deep grit to his tone. He didn’t tear his eyes away from his mother. “What did you do?”

Without glancing her way, Jake knew his grandmother had taken his seat at the table, holding his daughter and likely making silly faces at her as she inserted herself in what was his pleasant weekend.

“You two need to talk,” she said. There was a smile in her voice. A giggle from Eve. “You weren’t going to make the first move, and she was coming either way, so I figured it would be best if I tagged along.”

The crease in Jake’s brow deepened. That was not enough for him. “No warning?”

“Nope. You wouldn’t have agreed.”

He shook his head. His mother still hadn’t moved. 

"Is he here?" Jake finally asked her.

His mother startled at his directness, but she recovered after a moment’s passing and took a step closer that Jake immediately made up by taking a step back. She paused. "Jake—"

"Is he here?" he snapped.

The new silence in the aftermath of his sharp tone was loud, terribly loud, and long-lasting. Painfully so.

"Uh, family?" Rooster suddenly said from behind him. "Why don't we take a little walk on the beach."

Chairs scraped across the floor and Jake couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so thankful for his friend. Rooster was the only other person to know the full truth of what was said about Jake’s girlfriend and daughter, and he undoubtedly felt the storm brewing. A storm he knew Jake wouldn’t want his family to witness. 

No one argued, and as the others made their way outside, you appeared in front of him, breaking the tension of his steady stare. He looked at you, making sure to soften the hard edge in his eyes to soothe the worry in yours, but it didn’t work. His smile was tight-lipped and brief.

"Go with them, Honey," he whispered with a nod toward the door. He took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles before running his thumb over the top of them. "It's ok."

He tried that smile again, but the expression on your face made it known he was no more convincing than before.

With your free hand you cupped his cheek, then you stood up on your toes to press your lips to his—a little token of strength. When you stepped away from him, you snuck a quick look at his mother before you were on your way, following everyone else out the back door onto the beach. 

Only once you were out of his sight did Jake allow his eyes to land back on his mother.

She swallowed hard, her shaky hands clasped in front of her. "She's lovely," she said.

"She is," he replied, crossing his arms once again, stony glare back in place. "Where's Dad?"

Her nerves radiated through the room. He could practically see them—thin wiggly lines emanating from her form. 

"He's on a business trip. He doesn't even know I came. I just wanted to meet them. I'm only here for a couple of days and—"

"What happens when he finds out?” Jake interjected. “He'll lose his mind. He’ll show up here, and he won't walk away without making his point clear when it comes to my girlfriend and baby."

He could feel his voice raising as he continued to speak, but he couldn’t restrain himself. The pure rage he’d been trying to tamp down for months was yanked to the surface now that he was looking directly into the eyes of someone who had no issue insulting you, and therefore, hurting him. 

She said his name again, but the overwhelming combination of her gentle tone and the pain swirling in her irises had tears beginning to coat his own, a stinging at his nose. 

It pissed him off.

"He isn't coming anywhere near them,” Jake practically growled, that internal animal determined to protect his family slipping through the calm demeanor he’d been so close to regaining. “Do you understand me? After the things he said, the things he called her? It's not happening."

His mother nodded. "I understand."

"That little girl is mine. I'm not being tricked into raising someone else's kid!"

"I know, sweetheart,” she said as she attempted a step closer. He flinched but didn’t move away. She took another step. “Gram showed me a picture of her. She looks just like you." 

He frowned at her hint of a smile, at her hand extending his way like to earn the trust of an aggressive puppy. 

"Jake, I'm so sorry,” She near whispered. She was closer than he realized—he blamed it on his blurring vision—and her palm tentatively landed on his forearm. “This is not how I wanted things to be. You’re my son. The woman you love is outside that door and she birthed my granddaughter.” Her fingers lightly squeezed. “The last thing I want is to be alienated from the family you’ve made.”

For what felt like the hundredth time in the last week, Jake didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think right. He felt lost, and the only things capable of bringing him to safety were not within grabbing distance, separated from him by a door that might as well have been a mile away. 

Another palm met his other forearm and his arms were carefully untwined. One of his hands was sandwiched between two smaller ones. He couldn’t decide if it was comforting. 

He’d never been terribly close to her, less close to his father, but it didn’t change that she was, in fact, his mother. He’d always feel a bond, in some form. And knowing that her actions, her words, or lack thereof, were too often influenced by being under his father’s thumb stuck in the back of his mind. Rarely did she drift, knowing she’d have to face his frustration, but she had this time, for him, for his child, and it made things all the more difficult. Confusing. 

"I know what was said was…horrible. And—" Her eyelids briefly closed as she shook her head. She blew out a subtle breath before looking up at him. “I know I didn't do anything about it. I didn't call you and tell you I wasn't on his side in this. But that's what I'm doing now."

His lips parted but she continued.

“If it doesn’t work, if you don’t want me around them, then I’ll go. I’ll respect that, sweetheart, but I just wanted to try.”

The longer she stood there, the longer she had her hands around his, looking as desperate as she did, the harder it was for Jake to maintain the same depth of anger that he’d been so attached to. It seeped away with the nagging obligation to let her try to be a grandmother to his daughter. Not just for his mother, but for Eve. His baby girl, for whom he would willingly spend his entire life trying to provide everything she deserved and more. 

Jake sighed. 

“You can meet them,” he said, “But—”

She smiled. “That’s enough for now. I wouldn’t ask for more.”

Good. He wouldn’t give her more. Not now. Not until he saw for himself how she behaved around you and his baby. 

Nodding, he said, “Come on, then.”

He could feel her nerves again as they stepped out the back door of the bar, but the moment he saw your face, all of his attention went to you and what you were going to think about what he’d just agreed to. 

You only gave a brief look to his mother, a small smile with it, before your eyes were back on his. The question in them he responded to with a nod, then his mother stepped out from behind him. She hadn’t a chance to get a good look at Eve when she arrived, but now that the girl was right in front of her, snuggled in your arms, his mother couldn’t peel her eyes away. 

Her hand raised to cover her mouth and muffle the light sob that escaped as she stared in awe at the girl. She eased over to you.

"Could I—" She started but hesitated.

Jake understood her pause. His mother was asking another mother—a woman she didn’t truly know—if she could hold her baby. And what mother would hand her child over to a stranger? He respected her for recognizing that. For not assuming she had a claim on his child. 

A relationship with Eve would be a gift to her, but not one she could demand. It was a gift that must be granted. A decision; His and yours. And while he had decided he was ok with his mother being around Eve, you, too, would have to agree. 

“Would it be alright with you if I held her?” his mother finally asked. 

You looked at Jake again and he nodded again—extra reassurance that he trusted the intentions of the woman asking you to hand over your entire world. 

Smile spreading across your face, you said, “Of course,” and lifted Eve in his mother’s direction. 

"Oh…gosh,” she breathed, settling the girl on her hip. "You're so wonderful, aren't you." 

Her words were breaking as they left her lips, but she continued to murmur sweet praises as she hugged the baby girl close, and kissed the top of her blonde head, and ran her fingers over the much smaller ones. His mother looked at and held her son’s daughter as if she were unreal, delicate, breakable. And that’s exactly what she was. Eve was a miracle—one that brought her parents together again when it seemed so horribly unlikely, and she needed to be treated as such.

Jake’s heart squeezed so beautifully at the sight, and the tears he thought had come and gone threatened to reemerge. He felt full. Oddly complete in a way he didn’t anticipate. 

It was uncomfortable to realize how much he wanted that acceptance, for himself, for you, for his child, but he couldn’t deny the relief of seeing his mother care. Not judging but loving the way he chose to live his life despite it being so different than what was expected of him. 

A brush against his hand pulled him away from the scene. You tugged on his fingers and grinned when his eyes met yours. You pulled more, but Jake was already moving to sit beside you on the bench. 

“You ok?” you asked as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. You leaned into him. 

“I’m giving it a chance,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’ll see.”

----

A/N: this will have a 2nd part.

Turn on notifications for this blog or @seresinhangmanjake-library if you would like to keep up with my writing.

[glitter-stained]

Oh god

Oh god I just had a thought

So I said how in my "Robin lives" AU Jason wants a relationship with Sheila and doesn't understand why Bruce won't allow it, right?

Except in canon, Bruce doesn't know that Sheila was the one who did it; in this AU, he wouldn't know unless Jason told him. And why would Jason do so, if he wants to have a relationship with her (and he's so so ashamed and he doesn't want to think about it and wants to pretend that it never happened...)

So Jason does have a relationship with Sheila, he meets her regularly alone. Now, Sheila doesn't want to be a mother, but she wants a vengeful Batman to hunt her down even less, so she plays along, manipulates Jason into further isolating him (esp from Bruce), does some nice victim-blaming to make it clear that if Bruce found out how he disobeyed him to get into the warehouse he would be so disappointed (and Jason really really need further arguments for Bruce to take Robin away permanently), tells him it's better to let Jason think that the Joker was the one to kidnap him, that no one would believe him since he didn't say what happened anyway, and that she's sorry, and she loves him, and she knows she's hurt him but how many chances do we usually get to reunite with our lost family and she's his mother, does he really want to lose another mother? Doesn't he know what Bruce or Dick would give for a chance to be with their mother, how ungrateful they'd find Jason if they saw him flinch away from her hug?

And Jason keeps having traumatic flashbacks when he meets her (esp when she smokes in front of him) and she keeps scolding him for it, for being unreasonable, and also bringing up the fact that, by dragging him out of the door before the warehouse exploded, she saved him, and also playing on his relationship with Catherine...

Eventually after months of this Jason, who is more and more unsure about his place at the manor, with a self-esteem in the gutter and struggling to handle all those feelings of shame and guilt, talks to someone about it for advice on how to be a better son, maybe Roy, to have that "older hero who's cool but we're not close so their judgement wouldn't like, destroy me, and also he's Dick's friend and Dick trusts him" and tells them what actually happened. I can picture it too, like "I'm gonna tell you a secret but it's important you can't tell Bruce, okay? Please, he can't know, you have to promise me you won't tell Bruce."

(I'm unsure when exactly Roy gets Lian in the timeline but just imagine. He just got his precious baby girl and would kill anyone who laid a hand on her. And now he's best friend's little brother tells him that?)

[adventuringblind]

Hi this is my first time requesting anything but would you be able to do single mother!reader x the F1 grid. The love interest could be anyone you like xx

In Your Arms

2023 F1 Grid x Leclerc!reader, Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader

Genre: flangtsy (fluff and angst, get it? I'm a genius)

Request: yep :) Though I'm not sure if this is exactly what you wanted. Sorry if I didn't get it right 😥

Summary: Max Verstappen takes on the role of lover and father to the girl he’s seen go through hell

Warnings: mentions of r*pe and SA but no graphic depictions. Mentions of being drugged.

Notes: this feels heavy in the beginning. Written in second person

Masterlist

You didn’t know how it happened. It was supposed to be a safe place. Security is everywhere.

Though security probably didn’t have reason so suspect an engineer of doing something so awful. Defiling someone’s body without their consent.

You’d come to see Charles’ home race. Granted you live in Monaco and spend majority of your down time with drivers, their partners, and families. You’d grown up around them having gone with to see Charles race and then Arthur.

Your three older brothers had promised to keep you safe. Lorenzo felt that he had to fill your fathers shoes after his passing. Not that he saw you as helpless, but you’re always going to be his baby sister.

You wonder where they are now as you sit in Charles’ driver room. Your clothes crumpled around your body and hair tossed in every direction. You want nothing more then to peel away your own skin.

Something was in your water. She blamed it in chemicals or something, but the more you drank it the thirstier you became. Having downed the whole bottle in five minutes.

The dizziness set in after that. Body now lax and head foggy.

Charles had picked up in your now rather sick complexion and suggested you watch from his room in the motor home. An offer you gratefully took.

Right before the race, someone came to the door and opened it without knocking. A stranger in red who’s face you can’t make out.

Your phone had been buzzing nonstop with texts from your family about her location. Texts you didn’t answer. Limbs to heavy to reach for the phone.

One thing stuck in your mind is what Max is going to think of you now. You’d only been dating for a year. Would he look at you with pity in his eyes? Wonder why you didn’t fight back?

It was funny how you and Max came to be. Much if it having to do with Charles being sick of you two making heart eyes at each other growing up. He’d went as far as to throwing you in Max’s driver room and telling the two of you to confess.

Needless to say it worked.

The hours seem to drag on. Your phone still buzzing. You want to answer but you can barely move. The vertigo no letting you move further then an inch at a time.

Charles is the first to find you. Though you don’t know it’s him. The voice at the door sounds like it’s underwater and your brain can’t make out his face. For a minute, you panic. Charles’ hands are on you, trying to get you off the floor but your wailing at him to stop. Slurred words that he can’t understand fall from your mouth.

Charles can barely get close to you. So he switches tactics. Your family meets him at the door and takes one look at you. Immediately, your moth has a sense she knows what happened.

She’s so gentle. Careful not to touch you and she examines your face. She knows she’s going to have to get you to a doctor. That’s a given. However, she doesn’t know how to do so when you keep flinching at all your brothers who are wearing Ferrari red.

For now, she tries to get water down your throat.

~

The Leclerc’s find themselves waiting at the hospital. The best news being that you weren’t overdosed, but definitely close to it.

Charles is pacing furiously. Angry that the security around the paddock didn’t see anything strange. Arthur is trying to piece together how it could have happened and Lorenzo has been stringing together angry sentences in French over the phone.

It all comes to a halt when Max comes barreling through the door. He looks scared. Charles had called him to tell them where they were but had given him no details.

“What happened?”

~

Everything feels wrong. Your throat is sore. Your head hurts. Your muscles ache. Thoughts seem to be stuck somewhere.

It all comes rushing back as you remember what happened earlier that day. The room is dark, so you assume she slept for a while, but you can’t get her heart to slow down.

Max is stroking your hand gently. His eyes are sad and you can tell he's been stressed. "Nobody is telling me what happened. They said it should be you."

Some part of you is relieved, and the other is wracked with guilt.

"We don't have to talk about it now if you don't want to." He's still running his fingers along her arms.

"He was wearing red." Your nails start clawing at your skin.

It clicks and he's angry.

~

It's been a month and a half.

It's a slow process of getting out again.

Max refuses to leave you alone because you've been sinking further into herself. Then you're always around people. Out in the open. Stuck to someone you trust.

This morning is spent at home in bed. Max's arm tucked gently around around your waist, pulling you further into him.

It's the overwhelming feeling of nausea that has you diving out of bed and into the bathroom. Her stomach contents now not wanting to be in her body.

Max feels her panic and runs after you, trying his best to shake the sleep from his eyes. As soon as he figures out what's happening, he's holding her hair back and rubbing comforting circles on her back.

~

You clutche the pregnancy test in your hands. It makes her sick again. Five positives and a single negative. Three different brands.

Just when you feel you're getting better, now you have to tell everyone you're pregnant, and it's not Max's. Sobs overcame you before you can get up from where you sunk down to the floor.

Max finds you hours later, still on the floor looking and the blue lines.

"I'm so sorry."

"Nothing to apolize for, lovely. Just know I'll support you on whatever decision you make."

~

It's not an easy decision to keep the baby, but she can't see herself parting with them.

The sucky part is knowing that the biological father is still in the Ferrari garage somewhere. Charles, despite his best efforts, could not catch him. He must be some really nice guy that everyone likes. It's always the to nice ones that end up being evil on the inside.

Max has decided he'll take the role of father if you let him. He's been attentive. Making sure your every need is taken care of.

He's also still looking for the man who decided to take something that wasn't his. He's in the Ferrari paddock or hanging around the garage with Charles to see if anyone even looks at you funny.

~

Eight months in, and you're exhausted. Your mom has been staying with you while Max is traveling for races. He calls every chance he gets to check in on you.

Carlos has been sending you videos of why he is going to be a better uncle than Lando. Then Lando goes and brings you food and baby things to prove him wrong.

It's night, and you're tucked into bed, wishing Max were here cuddle with you. Then, the sensation of water leaking down your legs makes you call for your mother.

You stay calm while she drives to the hospital. You were expected to carry to full term. Neither of you expected the baby to come a month early.

You're calling Max repeatedly. The time difference puts him at prime sleep time.

Eventually he answers.

He's on the next flight home.

~

You waited as long as possible. Max had gotten there in the nick of time. He held your hand the entire time.

You were in labor for over a day. The pain getting unbearable at times.

When you finished, you were holding a healthy baby girl.

~

Isabella is your everything. Practically attached to your hip. She took more of your traits than you were expecting. Something that you're grateful for.

Your brothers spoil her to peices. Charles rarely says no to her, Lorenzo loves to show her how to boss the other two around, and Arthur has expanded her vocabulary is ways that are less then ideal.

Oscar was probably the most reliable to leave her with if Max or your brother aren't available. Having sisters comes in handy when he's combing through her hair. She falls asleep in his lap during almost every race weekend at some point.

Her favorite place is either on top of Landos shoulders or in Max's arms.

Max treats her like his own. He's said she's his daughter on multiple occasions. It was nice like this. Creating your own little family.

~

It takes two years after she's born for someone at Ferrari to ask you about her. Personal questions that were starting to make you uncomfortable.

Memories you'd locked away quickly find themselves flooding into your brain. Why is he so familiar?

You're outside the paddock, thankfully. People are within view.

"I want my daughter." He rasps. He is very much in your face now and You can feel his breath sticking to your face.

Your brain and chest short circuit. You send a silent prayer to whoever is listening that someone comes to save you. Thankful at yourself for leaving Isabella with Lando and Oscar.

Max had managed to catch a break and was on his way to find you. A small hop in his step at the thought of finding you and the little girl.

He freezes as he comes around the corner. His legs are carrying him faster than his mind can think. Max's hand finds his shoulder, effectively shoving the man away from you.

It takes everything in you not to fall into him as he slides in front of you protectively.

Your quick to take the opportunity to text someone to come help. Your definitely not strong enough to break them up if this gets physical and you don’t want to risk Max getting in trouble.

It's not long until Charles is barreling around the corner. Lando and Oscar close on his heels.

"You're trying to take away something that's rightfully mine." His voice is scratchy and angry, dripping with venom.

"Just like you took someone's body? I'm pretty sure taking a child is kidnapping." Max is practically growling.

Lorenzo comes running around the corner, Isabella running around the corner away from him and straight to you.

She's too far gone to stop. You lean down and scoop her up in your arms. Holding her head into her shoulder.

Max is still in front of you and her protectively. "You messed up, and now you're missing out." He spits.

Security is able to pull the Ferrari man away. Much to your relief because Charles was getting ready to swing.

You break in Max's arms once he's gone. Isabella is confused at the sadness but is still trying to cheer you up.

Max just holds you. Both of you.

"It's okay now, I'll always keep you safe."

[scoobydoodean]

Could you elaborate on why you want season 8 Sam to die? It's been years since I watched that season ahah. I don't doubt that he deserves to, but I cannot remember why.

He saw Kevin be kidnapped and abandoned him to a life of torture without so much as telling his mother or another hunter or even the angels who would have had a stake in saving him.

His flashbacks are unbelievably awkward and boring. I'm supposed to care about the trash disposal he fixed while Dean is doing sexually charged battle scenes with Cas and Benny in Purgatory.

He gets together with a woman who accuses him of hitting a dog on purpose and implies that he's a white supremacist.

He tells Amelia he wants to fight for their relationship, but as soon as her ex husband suggests they should let her choose between them, he leaves her in the middle of the night, then after she's moved on, he comes back just to be a homewrecker.

He keeps saying he's going to leave the life as soon as the business with Kevin and the tablet is concluded and Dean needs to "let him go" (???) but also doesn't want Dean to have any friends besides him and demands Dean cut ties with Benny or else (while Dean is telling Sam to go back to Amelia if that's what he wants).

The entirety of "Citizen Fang", from sending a hunter he knows is mentally unstable to "keep an eye" on Benny to going along with Martin beating Dean over the head and chaining him to a radiator to keep him from interfering with the Benny witch hunt to pretending afterward like HE was the victim because Dean sent him a fake text from his ex to prevent Sam from MURDERING SOMEONE. To taking zero accountability for Martin or Elizabeth.

Dean tells Sam that he is suicidal and Sam insists on doing The Trials based on Dean's suicidality and says that he will survive The Trials and renew Dean's hope in living, then within two episodes he pretends that conversation never happened and basically tries to gaslight Dean for the rest of the season into thinking it didn't happen while also getting furious at Dean whenever he gets the slightest feeling that maybe Dean doesn't believe in him.

When Sam is sick, Dean takes care of him, bringing him food, getting his fever down, etc, and is treated like this makes him a piece of shit who doesn't "trust" Sam enough (????). Sam repeatedly projects feelings onto Dean that Dean doesn't even have and ridicules him for thought crimes.

While being furious that maybe Dean doesn't trust Sam more generally to have his back, Sam ignores that he has done everything possible to destroy Dean's trust, from abandoning him, Cas, and Kevin to die and presenting a deeply unfeeling exterior about it, to promising to survive The Trials then almost immediately telling Dean he's going to die and to get over it. He acts entitled to Dean's trust and on top of it, the expectations are one-sided. He is allowed to distrust Dean all day every day but Dean isn't allowed to distrust him ever.

All of this culminates in Sam "confronting" Dean for trusting other people besides Sam, having friends besides Sam who showed more loyalty and care to Dean than Sam has, and telling Dean he's jealous of his other relationships and all but flat out blaming him for the fact that Sam now wants to commit suicide.

In the aftermath he gets mad that Dean convinced him not to commit suicide by telling Sam that he loves him and it's all okay and he's there for him when Sam was literally blaming Dean for his impending suicide. He claims Dean "made him" make the wrong choice because he is incapable of ever taking accountability for anything.

Basically it's the worst things Sam's ever done dialed up to 11 and it doesn't stop the whole season and he is so thoroughly miserable to watch that he's almost unrecognizable to the point I joke about him being a podperson. Also see: #season 8 sam.

[11queensupreme11]

What would it be like if the Gods, adults not children, know all this about Percy being from another universe and everything he's going to have to go through and somehow they end up meeting a 12-year-old Percy? I'm talking about a Percy before the field trip to the museum with Mrs. Dotts, which is to say when he didn't know anything about the Gods.

this whole thing just reminds me of this final fantasy 7 ao3 fanfic where everyone got sent back to the past AND remembered what happened... EXCEPT CLOUD and they were all frantically planning on a way to train this poor kid on how to save the world in case sephiroth goes insane again while simultaneously not telling him cuz they didn't want him to remember all his trauma 😭😭😭

(also if anyone knows which fic this, PLEASE SEND ME THE LINK CUZ I FORGOT THE TITLE AND AUTHOR AND I WANNA READ IT AGAIN!!!!)

anyway, if they got isekai-ed to percy's universe in the past AND THEY KNOW what's gonna happen to her, they are absolutely gonna scramble for a way to get back to their universe with percy in order to prevent The Plot from happening 😭😭😭😭

like "hell fucking no my baby is NOT going through any of that!!!!" 😭😭😭😭

i can't even blame them cuz imagine finding this tiny lil 12 year old girl, the de-aged version of someone you love so very much, and KNOWING she's about to go through some traumatizing shit soon and you have the chance to save her from that? they're gonna do whatever it takes to save her from that awful fate!!

poseidon is straight up kidnapping her, getting a child leash, and tethering her to him while he frantically tries to find a way to access the bifrost and send them back home, meanwhile he's got a feral 12 year old trying to gnaw through the leash 💀

hades definitely feels bad for kidnapping her from her poor mother, BUT IT'S FOR PERCY'S OWN GOOD, HE SWEARS!!!! 🥺🥺🥺 he's absolutely not gonna go to any of the gods for help because he's seen their buffoonery and wants no part of it, so it's up to him to find a way back home!!

beelzebub's not gonna bother with a child leash, after he kidnaps her he's whipping out the cuffs again cuz those have a shorter chain AND she can't gnaw them off 💀 probably gives up on the handcuffs tho when she somehow manages to break them and ends up just lugging her around like this:

apollo's gonna be such a nervous wreck. he does NOT want to kidnap her, he would prefer it if she just comes with him willingly but it comes off SO sus like "hi there little girl! do you want some candy? i'm trying to save ur life pls trust me" and percy may be 12 but she's not STUPID, so she goes "stranger danger" and runs away and now he has no choice but to kidnap her while he tries to find a way back 😭

loki's more subtle at first. he'll kill of mrs. dodds, chiron, and grover and shapeshift to become percy's new math teacher to replace dodds. he knows he still has some time before The Plot hits, so he's not TOO panicked rn and when he's not pretending to be a math teacher, he spends his time snooping around asgard to try and figure out how their bifrost works to send them both home. killing those three ^ eliminates the whole field trip issue, but you know, Fates 💀 ofc they find a way to make The Plot keep going so yeah, loki snaps and kidnaps her to keep her safe

i promise you, ten minutes into anubis' arrival in the pjo verse, the news article "freakishly tall furry man kidnaps child from yancy academy -- local furry community claims no ties to the kidnapper" is gonna spread around like wildfire 💀 he is absolutely gonna kidnap her is probably gonna spend most of the time freaking the fuck out instead of actually trying to find a way back home

cú chulainn's got it a little harder. yes he can easily kidnap her, but he's not a god. he's been blessed with his adoptive father's abilities, but he can't like... teleport, be in multiple places at once, easily search the universe in case percy runs away, etc. so he tries to be more discreet about it like loki by killing off mrs dodds and any monsters that come percy's way. he'll try to find a way to the bifrost too, but it'll be more difficult for obvious reasons. it's once The Plot hits does he finally say fuck it and just joins her to keep her close while trying to find a way to access the norse pantheon

[devotekuna]

Dad!Geto headcanons/drabbles

♡˗Geto who has experience rasing kids as he adopted Mimiko and Nanako, but not having experience raising babies let alone with someone else, it was nice having someone else to rely on.

☆His daughter who's called Hana is a carbon copy of him, black long hair, curly at the start but it would soon turn into long lushus locs.

☆Hana was very clingy when she was a baby, always crying when she didn't sense her father's presence, it was always so draining when he went to his little cult meetings as nothing would soothe her, not even her favourite and only aunts, Nanako and Mimiko.

☆Whenever she sees him coming towards her, crys stopping at an instant, little hands reaching out for a hug, who could blame her? She adored him despite her only being a few months old.

☆Geto who always puts her to sleep, even if you said you could do it, partially be abuse he wanted you to rest but also because his daughter loved him too much, always rocking her to sleep as she slept on his shoulder or patting her back.

☆Adores Hana reaching for something on his head, either it be his nose, earrings or hair, somehow always getting to chew it, complaints coming from his mouth as soon as he feels her release his hair and the wet surface hitting his skin.

☆Hana most definitely likes butterflies, always picking up a purple one and bringing it to him, sometimes putting it in his hair then trying to braid it, despite her efforts it still ended up flying away and the hair a mess.

☆Sometimes she gets taken to his cult meetings to keep the members off guard as she stared at her only for suguru to deal with his business.

☆She definitely dressed up like him, trying to bribe him with her cuteness and admiration for him to bring her with him, he always rejects her as he doesn't want her to see what he does only to promise to buy her Ice-cream or something.

☆Whenever they go to the park which isn't very often, he always carries her on his shoulders if she's too tired, always stopping for her to pet the cats or to go on the swings.

☆Hana loves when he cooks for her, always trying to help him, either by cutting up vegetables or helping stir the pot. She'd find a way to be close to her favourite parent, it being clear that she's a daddy's girl.

☆Whenever he falls asleep somewhere where his daughter can reach him, she takes advantage and puts sticks and felt tips all over him, but if she's feeling tired she'll grab her toys, blanket and pillows, always prodding one under his head as she sleeps on him, blanket wrapped around both of them.

☆He has a special room dedicated to her shenanigans, hiring a babysitter to do whatever she likes only if she doesn't get hurt, threatening to kill them if they upset her.

☆He's the type to walk Hana to school on the first day, wishing her a good luck and giving her a kiss on the forehead even if he was late for a meeting saying that they weren't as important as her.

"Who's/Where's my little princess?" "Papa brought you back some souvenirs!" "I'll let you braid my hair whilst I work" "Ask your mother if she wants to watch a movie with us" "It's a daddy daughter date"

☆He'd most definitely sacrifice anything for her, even if it was his own life, which goes the same for you too.

☆He captures curses which would make his daughter happy, take a curse that looks alot like a unicorn for chance, he'd spawn that in for her to ride it.

☆Hana definitely offers him some sweets or tea to make the taste of the cursed spirits go away as she hates seeing her father in discomfort. Always taking up on her offers.

☆He'd own a pond full of koi fish or a cat which he lets his daughter take care of, always loves coming home to the cat purring at his feet with his partner and daughter.

[lover-of-mine]

I know I wrote a whole essay on why Eddie fell first and how you can track down some level of awareness all the way back to the tsunami if you try and all that, but I'm having let's recontextualize season 3 and 4 thoughts so... Here's the thing, Eddie's relationship with Shannon was defined by Christopher (and hypothetical child #2), right? He proposed because she got pregnant, he wanted to propose again when he thought she was pregnant again, he brought her back into his life because Chris needed something from her even though they had been living in the same city for a while and he had never tried to contact her for himself, he uses bringing Shannon back into Chris' life as a statement about their marriage until Shannon pushed him into the corner again asking what they're doing. So the one relationship ever had at that point in his life was defined by Christopher. And the way we witness Eddie struggle to trust Shannon adds to things. They're married, she's Christopher's mother but he's not all the way in unless when he's pushed into the corner. So when you look at all that, and the choice Eddie makes of looking Buck in the eye and say "there's nobody in this world I trust with my son more than you" means a lot given the circumstances. Christopher almost died while on Buck's watch. No one in their right mind would blame Eddie for being cautious. But not trusting Buck doesn't occur to him. So he makes a very definitive statement about the space Buck has in his life using Christopher. I hate making the explicit comparison because a lot of the way Eddie doesn't trust Shannon comes from the fact she didn't choose to come back while Buck keeps barreling his way in, but he tells a Shannon begging for forgiveness that he's not sure he can trust her and then he turns around and pushes his way in to make sure Buck knows he still trusts him. Eddie might not understand all the implications of the way he still trusts Buck that much, but the implications are there. Then we have the lawsuit of it all. The lawsuit is categorically NOT about Eddie. But Eddie makes it about himself because he can't understand the way Buck wouldn't consider him while deciding he didn't have the 118 anymore when he thought he was being clear about what Buck means to him. Buck made it legally impossible for Eddie to talk to him and Eddie does not know what to do with not being able to talk to the one person he relies on even more with the way Chris is also struggling. So dude makes a statement about his relationship with Buck using Christopher yet again. "Do you have any idea how much Christopher misses you? How could you? You're not around." We don't know that for sure but I think it is safe to assume that Eddie did not find out about the lawsuit directly from Buck so all of a sudden, he was not allowed to talk to Buck and he took that very personally, but he uses Christopher as a shield for how the thing makes him feel, but he's still very much talking about himself because the second Buck offers a solution so he can see Chris, he turns around with "it prevents me from reaching out to you, I couldn't even call you to bail me out of jail," so even though Eddie is hiding behind Chris, everything is very obviously about their partnership. But it's Buck who forces him to talk about them. And Eddie let it go because he wanted Buck to consider him and Buck basically promises he will from then on and he keeps that. The thing is, Eddie is in therapy at this point and while Eddie is good at repression, it's not like the dude is unable to name the shit he's repressing. That man has to have thought about why Buck leaving him made him that angry. He has to have thought about why one of the fights he starts is with Buck. He might've not connected the dots, but he has to have realized there are dots to connect. Even more, considering the way Eddie shuts down Buck's attempt to get him to open up about why he was so angry. He's all things got out of hand, let's not think about it because he does not want to open that can of worms.

Then we have the Christmas and the way Buck adjacently fixes a problem by helping organize the party and making so Chris can be with Eddie and the skateboard incident where again, Buck is part of the solution. Those are situations that show that Buck and Eddie have similar parenting styles. And all of that leads us to the well. Eddie's I need to keep fighting montage is very interesting because of the amount of Buck in it, so Buck is in his mind. But also because the well prompts Eddie to change his will. Something became clearer while he was down there because it's not like Chris wouldn't be well taken care of by his parents and he has sisters, he has a lot of blood relatives who would make sure Chris was cared for. He's known Buck for what? A year and a half? And this is maybe 6 months after the lawsuit? And the guy is like "yeah, I'm gonna make this dude responsible for my kid and I am absolutely certain he'll do everything he can for me like I would" after almost dying. Mr defines relationships using his kid gives his kid to someone after the type of experience that makes a human take a deeper look into their lives and I need to believe Eddie doesn't know? He might've not named it in his head. He might've not looked at it head-on and accepted what it truly means. But he has to know something. There's no way that man thinks that what he has with Buck is just a regular friendship. Especially because he hides it. He could've asked Buck, taken Buck with him to talk with his attorney, Buck would've said yes. But he hid it because he didn't want to answer the "why me" question because even during the will reveal my man is in deflection mode and does not fully answer why he did it, he just answers the "why are you telling me" question. He needs Buck to understand he matters and he pulls the will out of his pocket. He goes "here's a reminder you're loved" with something that's one hell of a statement for Eddie. It's the thing Shannon asks for as a statement about their marriage that he couldn't give until he was pushed to it. The idea that he doesn't have some level of awareness he's in love with Buck is... He has to know and just have accepted he is gonna take that to the grave because Buck doesn't want him like that because the way he acts is very specific for me to believe it's fully unconscious. Dude repressed the shit out of it, but he knows what he's repressing, there's no way.

[yiiyiiwrites]

🍂 | Autumn Equinox | Cassian

Summary: Cassian trying to honour your equinox celebrations, not knowing that the holiday is something you don't quite understand. So you make new traditions with your mate. 2425words

Cassian x Autumn court reader

Also Have one for [Azriel] & [Eris] & Lucien coming soon

[Acotar masterlist]

The large bag strapped to your back, bit into your shoulders. Each time you stretched your arms and clutched the protruding rocks above your head, the weight nearly promised you a plummeting death.

You didn't know what possessed Cassian to drag your ass out in the bitter cold. It felt like you'd been chasing the setting sun, your mate's bouncing steps through the forest an hour ago didn't settle the knot in your stomach either or his words of surprise.

A gloved hand wrapped around your forearm, hoisting you up and over the jagged mountain side. You fell to your knees, peering over the edge and the sheer drop, the ground crumbled beneath your knee. Gravel and rocks tumbling over, Cassian grabbed the scruff of your collar hauling you back against his chest.

His heart drummed at your back, arms caging you against him as he controlled his breaths. You flinched as his wings curled around the two of you, instinct driving him to hold you closer.

What you didn't realise was he was trying to contain the flames licking at the palms of your hands and wrists. His wings containing your magic before it devoured everything in it's way.

Panic climbed up your throat, burning sensation in your mouth pulling your attention to the fire eating away Cassian's leather fighting gear. You clawed at his arms, but he clenched you tighter biting back the groan as the singed fabric gave way to his melting flesh.

"Please," you whispered, more pleading with yourself to stop the magic on their course of destruction than ask anything of your mate.

As if the gods willed it, the heat died from your hands and the cold rushed into bite your fingertips. You curled your fingers into the cuff of your jacket, cursing the ash that shook the frayed edges. Cassian's arms eased, his crushing vice no longer stealing your breath away.

Tiny glowing embers danced around the scales of Cassian's armour, your palm slapping against the patches to snuff them out. "Shit, shit. Sorry," you said each word following the pat of your hand against his arm.

"This is why you need to learn how to control your emotions," Cassian said grabbing your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, tilting your face to look up at him. "So that you don't have to apologise for something so natural like being scared of falling to your death."

He was right, you'd never learnt to control your magic or the tangled mess of emotions that led to your outbursts, which is why he always jumped in to contain you. Stating that he'd rather get burnt than have you beating yourself up for feeling something.

It was just you and your father growing up, your mother fled back to her home court not long after giving birth to you. Which made it difficult for your father to teach the fundamentals of your magic or spend time with you when he worked all the time. Not that you blamed him, the autumn court thrived on hierarchy and you well didn't like being told what to do.

"Where's Az when you need him eh," you said, shrugging off your backpack. The one and only time you'd accidentally burnt Azriel, his Shadows had smothered you until you'd passed out. He'd avoided you for months, still couldn't quite keep your gaze.

"Im still mad at him for that," Cassian grumbled, digging through his own pack before he gave up and emptied the contents on the ground.

"Fair game," you said, taking a corner of the blanket from his grasp and laying it out on the fallen leaves. Cassian stilled, thick brows furrowed as he snatched the thermos from rolling into the burrow of a trees roots and what ever else hid below it.

"He stole every ounce of oxygen from you and you nearly died."

You didn’t feel like digging up old arguments, the key thing being that you did not die. “Why are we trekking up the fucking Illyrian mountains?” You plopped down on the blanket, swiping the warm tea from Cassian’s grasp before he can take a sip. It sloshed over the cup and dripped down your hand.

The top of the mountain gave way to the sprawling forests, snow capped peaks of the winter court could be seen in the far distance. The sun had long set, glittering stars blinking in the inky sky.

A crackle murmured through the wind, an orange light zipping up into the sky, a bang exploding as light broke off into golden flecks, falling from the line that shot up previously.

“Happy autumn equinox,” Cassian whispered leaning into press his lips to your cheek. “I used to watch these from the camp growing up. Never knew what they were for till you mentioned the equinox last year.”

Ah yes, thankfully Cassian was working away during the first year. Where you’d locked yourself in your bedroom and refused to acknowledge what day it was. Cassian had tried to get some sort of information about the tradition then, but you didn’t give him much to go on saying that you normally watched the fire in the sky.

Your body trembled, fists clenching on your crossed legs as you tried not to cry. The blood pumping in your ear whirred, heart spinning like the next fireball launching off into the distance.

“I hate equinox,” you snarled, “I hate that court, those sodding…” you couldn’t finish the sentence, you’re on your feet toeing the twigs on the ground.

You felt like a small child, the loud bangs and the crowds of fae pushing you deeper into the packed bodies. Cassian’s fingers dug into the muscle between your shoulder blades and he traced circles, easing the tension from you.

“That’s why you hardly spoke to me whilst I was away last year?” His thumb pressed into your spine and you hummed in appreciation, his touch working the trauma you stored there. “Why didn’t you say?”

You dropped your head, “I was never allowed to celebrate it, didn’t see the point when I was older,” you mumbled into your chest, now feeling stupid for saying it out loud. You really did feel like a child.

And in that moment, you realised that Cassian hadn’t been given as much you as you had experienced and that made you feel the deep rooted shame settling in your stomach. How could you complain when you had a father and a warm bed? Yes he’d neglected your emotional needs by working, but your father had given you place to sleep and grow.

“It’s nothing, it doesn’t matter,” you shook his hand off of your back and wrapped your arms across your chest, fists twisting the fabric of your coat.

“Perhaps,” Cassian said, tucking the curtain of hair hiding your face behind your ear. “We could create our own traditions for today.” The pad of his thumb brushed against your cheek, your lips parting as dimples set in his cheeks.

He tugged you down to the blanket, leaning against a large boulder. His arm hooked over your shoulder as he tucked you into his side. You thought of little Cassian watching the fire in the sky, sparkling gaze wondering what they are. Not knowing that one day they would lead to you.

And you found yourself telling Cassian why you’d never celebrated the autumn equinox. How your father patrolled the event, leaving you to watch the skies through the window in the barracks.

Children were not allowed unattended, the equinox night attracting all kinds of spirits, that patrols were long and needed.

The exploding balls of fire shaking the thin cabin and rattling the glass window. You stayed up till the candle melted to nothing and the wick turned to ash, laid in your father’s lumpy cot. You still remember the scent of smoke that clung to your father’s uniform as he climbed into bed with you, too tired to change his clothes.

You glanced at Cassian, his glassy eyes on the sky but the twitch of his wings tell you he’s listening intently. The palm of his hand smoothing up and down the side of your leg and you leant into him offering warmth that came so easily for you.

"I think I like this tradition," you said resting your head on his chest.

“We’ll have to pick another spot next year,” he said, gaze falling from the sky to the army of trees below. “Anything could be tracking us here.” Ah yes, the ever observant warrior thinking ten steps ahead.

A shiver crept up your spine, you didn’t want to think about what prowled the Illyrian mountains or come across them either.

“Maybe we should start packing up? I’d rather not chase the rising sun,” you mumbled into his chest as he pulled you into a crushing hug.

Cassian chuckled, arms slipping away from you. Part of you not wanting to leave the safety of his wings around you, another not wanting to walk through the darkness now that he’d somewhat mentioned something in the forest.

“It’s okay baby, you’ve got me,” he said, large hand pawing the top of your head. That damned tether sending the little trickle of fear straight to him. He stuffed the rolled blanket and thermos back into his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” You said as he spun you around to face him. He guided your bag straps over your shoulders, clipping the clasp at your back so that the pack laid against your front.

His wings shot out, before angling down slightly and you stumbled back at the abrupt shift of wind he sent around both of your ankles.

“You want to walk?” He asked, wings twitching as they were the ones speaking to you.

“You mean to tell me, that you could have flown up here instead of traipsing through the sodding woods?” You couldn’t help the bite of your words. The mud caking your boots and shins did not help, it felt like lugging another weight along with you.

Warmth spread the curve of your palm, flames curling round your knuckles and stretching to your fingertips. You tried to breathe, count backwards as if it would help calm your racing heart.

A whip of wind lashed at you, flickering embers falling to ash. Your skin charred and black, the chalky residue leaving a stain as it brushed the side of your leg.

You glanced at the tiny spec of ash glowing, gaze flitting to Cassian whose smirk dropped and wings snapped, sending another whirl of wind towards you. Your boots dug into the earth and dragged back at the impact.

“Stop that,” you snarled, clenching your fists. The sliver of hold you had on your emotions wavered, the thoughts of the day washing over you and the memories bleeding you dry of any hope.

Cassian held your hands in his, if you were to give up you’d burn him and that was something you never wanted. It had happened so many times, Cassian using it to teach you how to control your emotions. Something you warned him not to do. His leather gloves were covered in molten patches, flesh a lighter shade, already healing and weaving itself back together.

“You can’t burn everything down when you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry.” You couldn’t look at him, convinced that even your eyes were full of fire. He knows you too well though.

“Then what are you? Tired because you walked or frustrated at something?” His head dipped trying to catch your gaze, but you looked away. Something, he chose his words carefully when you knew he wanted to say someone.

You rarely spoke of your father freely, only offering up random tales that fit the situation. And even then you didn’t go into detail. This whole day brought up everything you’d pushed down for centuries.

“I hate this day, it reminds me of him,” you mumbled, once again feeling like a small child. “But you’ve made it bearable.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it was such a hard day for you,” he mused, brushing the hair out of your face. “I just assumed you missed your father, you don’t speak of him much or of home. Thank you for sharing that part of yourself with me.”

Home, the word sliced into you. You hadn’t truly known the word home was actually a feeling. Sure living in the barracks with your father was home, but the warmth and love Cassian gave you taught you of home.

It was more than a four walls or a cabin, home was a person for you now.

“I actually hate walking,” you said, pausing as Cassian scooped you up into his arms. “My father used to drag me through the autumn forest at the crack of dawn. Telling me I needed to learn the land and stay fit.” You’d mentioned those walks with your father, but didn’t admit you never had a choice in the matter. Even if you were aching and tired he still pulled you out of bed to roam around the woods on his morning patrols.

The fog was thick, even from the many courts you could smell the smoke. You always liked flying, well Cassian flying. Everything looked small in comparison, reminding you to take a step back and enjoy the present. Wrapped in the tight embrace of your mate, clouds and stars skimming by.

You peered over Cassian’s bicep, trying to catch a flicker of movement to whatever laid below the canvas of trees.

“I recon you’d do just fine down there,” Cassian said, veering to the right as a whoosh of wind caught his wings. “Your father taught you how to hunt and fight, although there’s worse than foxes down there.” A wicked smirk tugged the corner of his lips, he loosened his grip and threw you up, scream tearing from your throat.

Cassian tucked his wings dropping lower, the breeze carrying his laugh to you.

“You bastard,” you yelled as he caught you again, your fist slamming into his chest. “Actually one of the cute older kids taught me how to fight. Now that I think of it maybe I do have a type. He had long hair too and he was oh…”

“Walking sounds good, right now," he mumbled, escaping the clouds and soaring down, his boots dragging along the top of the trees.

“I actually want to sleep tonight.” You couldn't help yourself, leaning over and peering through the gap of branches in hopes of finding whatever beasts Cassian refused to tell you about. Part of you glad he didn't, the stories you'd heard of the prisoners he fought, were enough to taint your dreams.

“Who said we’re getting any sleep tonight?”

Since its nearly autumn equinox I wanted to do some prompts for it :) there's other characters to come - Yiiyii

[local-lamppost]

Initial thoughts cause it's 4am

Spoilers

First off, wow... it's really good. I've been saying that if season 2 is as good as season 1 Arcane would be my new favorite show and we are on track. Anyway, just gonna list stuff until I can process/rewatch a billion times

Mel lived! I was so certain that they would just kill her off, make that Ambessa's motive (give Jayce a reason to keep fighting the Undercity) but it's much more interesting keeping her involved in the narrative. Love her trying to bother understand and undermine her mother. Those Black Rose guys best not have hurt a hair on her perfect head.

Speaking of. What in the Utena are these Black Rose magic people? I love the look of their magic. I wonder how they can corrupt people. Is it a spell? Do they slip them something?

Love how the divide of Jayce and Viktor was done. Jayce betrayed Viktor's wishes of destroying the Hexcore. Last season, Viktor wanted to forget about using the core to save himself after Sky and begged Jayce to destroy it when the core wouldn't allow Viktor himself to do it. In Jayce's mind though, the core is the solution to Viktor's problems. He didn't know it killed Sky or that it can influence Viktor, but all Viktor can comprehend is that Jayce didn't trust him. Didn't keep his promise. And this is fresh off of Jayce's season 1 antics against the Undercity, so Viktor's faith in his partner was already shaken. Viktor's also comfortable in his mortality/death, even though he wants to prolong it like every other human, but Jayce can't fathom loosing Viktor-the man who saved his life and made his dreams reality.

(Side note: Am I a JayVik shipper? I never considered myself one, but after writing this...)

JINX HAS A KID! I love this choice. Give Jinx a kid so she is able to learn what Silco and Vi had to go through with her, that no matter how big or dangerous a scheme to take this child into account. The confrontation in ep 3 really showed what Jinx will have to consider now that this kid's decided to adopt her as an older sister or something. Especially nice detail of how Vi-who has always had to consider the kids in her life-immediately stops fighting and starts looking for ways to keep the kid safe.

I was wondering how Jinx would loose a finger and Caitlyn shooting it off to save Vi is just- The fact that the only way these two can show they care about Vi when it comes to each other is by hurting the other.

Sevika's new arm is fantastic. It's a peace offering from Jinx, but also a way for Jinx to feel better (it was something she could fix). The mechanics of it are really fun. It reminds me of Kite's weapon from HxH with how it didn't always work/give her what she wanted in the fight. I especially love the victory rockets and built in theme song.

Ambessa is so interesting. Between her character song to the introduction of just what she is fighting against, I am very intrigued. She reminds me of Cersei Lannister, except she loves her kids as more than just extensions of herself (as of what we've seen, but I think that'll stick). Her using Salo to establish herself-which also keeps Mel safe by distancing her-but also dropping him in order to prop up Cait at her first opportunity is such a clever move. She truly is the fox and the wolf, but she is above all a mama bear.

Not much to say about Heimerdinger or Ekko yet, but I am definitely curious to see what they do about the wild runes with Jayce. The three of them have a fun dynamic, what with Heimerdinger still being peeved about magic/being ousted, Ekko hating topside and having a new reason to do so with them poisoning his tree, and Jayce being recently seperated and divorced from both his partners.

Vi is an enforcer. I didn't know how they were gonna handle this, but they did it so well. Of course she wants to fix things for the people her sister hurt. She feels responsible. She can say she doesn't blame herself, but how true is that? Why else would she be wearing a badge if not for her guilt? She is desperate to do something right and being an enforcer seemed to be a way to make Cait happy, get her gauntlets (what she believes is necessary to make any kind of change), and be first in line in the hunt for Jinx. She says that her sister is dead, that Jinx is a desecration to Powder's memory, that they are not sisters but isn't it supposed to be 'nothing is going to change that'? How much of all this is just something Vi is telling herself to keep going? Cait is her motive right now, but after ep 3 I definitely see why she starts spiraling.

(2 Side note: Her new best friend/drinking buddy is such a real one. They have a bender in the gutter together and now he's following her into and out of the enforcers. I wonder if he knew Vander? In any case, he is a delight.)

Cait and Vi kissed... CAIT AND VI KISSED! Then NOTHING HAPPENED AFTER! NOTHING! No immediate break up, nope.

So Cait. I love Cait and I am hyped for her arc this season. I am ready to fight tooth and nail for her. I am a Caitlyn defender. So what she's being manipulated into leading a military state due to her grief/unresolved anger/guilt/Ambessa being better at this than her, she looks amazing in her cape. It balances.

Seriously though, the writing for Cait especially is so solid. She is desperate to hold herself and her family together, to protect her city. She still wants to protect the innocent, to heal the Undercity, but her anger at a select few of those she wants to help is clouding the greater image for her. Vi seems to be acting as her better half, the side that cares for the innocent-the protector. Ambessa is the agressor, encouraging Cait to take drastic military action against the Undercity as a whole. Vi's disillusionment with Cait is due to the fact that Cait desire to heal, not harm, is what caused her to fall for Cait to begin with. To see more than some privileged topside enforcer, but a woman who genuinely cared and was willing to abandon her peaceful naivety to learn for the greater good of strangers.

I'll also point out that they separate when Cait starts blaming Vi for them loosing Jinx. Before, everyone but Cait put responsibility on Vi, she was supposed to be the one to help lighten the load and absolve some of the guilt. Now Cait is becoming another one of those who slam the blame on Vi. She changed. Why does everyone around VI change?

Can't wait for the next batch of episodes.

[chaifootsteps]

if that leak is accurate that Stella and/or Andrealphus are going to die in the s2 finale, it's going to make parts of the fandom dogpiling on Octavia look even more ridiculous

like she just lost her mother and possibly her uncle because her father's affair partner (as far as she knows) just murdered one or both of them and she maybe also had to get involved herself by making the incredibly traumatic choice of saving her father's life from her mother/uncle by potentially hurting and killing them both

and she just discovered she has incredible magic powers which her father has not prepared her to use or handle at all

and to top it all off as far as she knows her father broke his promise not to leave her for Blitzo. like even if Viv goes the route of 'Stolas is kicked out of the palace as consequences for lending out his book', Stolas still bears responsibility for that. He did break his promise to be there for Via when he decided to risk his nobility and titles on sexually extorting someone with his grimoire (a grimoire that's also her inheritance) - he keeps talking about breaking demon law so he knew the risks. that'd be the same if he'd made the more sympathetic choice of having a business arrangement with Blitzo to loan him the book instead of exorting him for sex. and he could have avoided all of this if he'd tried to get Blitzo a crystal in the first place, since he knew full well they existed

and when Via's understandably upset by all of this Stolas doesn't validate any of those feelings but just tells her she 'doesn't understand' and he didn't leave her (presumably Viv is going to pull a 'Stolas tried to call but couldn't get through bcus Stella' to get Stolas out of this, despite all the stuff I mentioned with the book above being entirely his fault).

He tells her she's the best thing in his life but doesn't address any of the ways he's completely failed her - didn't stop having a monthly fling when he knew how upsetting she found it, didn't teach her enough magic if any magic at all, didn't take her away from Stella even though the situation was miserable for everyone involved, didn't explain the arranged marriage situation when she got old enough, didn't bother telling her Stella tried to assassinate him, didn't bother to beef up security to protect her while he was busy negging Blitzo, presumably got distracted again when Blitzo finally folds and gives him the love he wants, etc.

like objectively he's a terrible father even if Stella is worse, but the fandom thinks Via should just be able to switch off caring about Stella at the drop of a hat for Stolas' benefit, even though it's Stolas' fault she'd be attached to her mother because he chose to try and play house for 17 yrs

like supposing Stolas was around Via's age when they first had Via it's understandable he wouldn't know the perfect thing to do. but he was definitely an adult when she was around 5-7 years old and was presumably well aware Stella had been a nightmare for most of that time, yet he insisted the family stay together

it's such a huge lack of empathy and understanding of how abuse works that even if Via had some awareness that Stella is the worst, she'd probably still have mixed feelings about losing her mother. most children struggle to break off attachments with abusive parents because of the good times and because they still love them and want them to be the person they hoped

and Via is facing that exact issue with both Stolas and Stella. it's unreasonable to expect her to immediately be on Stolas' side if the fandom is also arguing he managed to hide what Stella was really like from her for so long - and how would she even know he's telling the truth if he does finally tell her? he's lied to her and let her down before and it'd be very convenient for him to blame Stella for everything (including lending out the book, which was completely his choice) - it's not uncommon for divorcing parents to demand their child's allegiance by throwing the other parent under the bus, after all

Those are all excellent points, and if it does pan out according to the leak, it's not going to matter a particle to this fandom. They're going to rip into that broken, hurt, grieving child like a swarm of lampreys.

[pooks]

alright, thanks to some good One Piece fanfics, i got Ichiji brainrot and here's an AU i have in mind

never expected that to happen, so i blame the good OP fanfiction writers. you know who you are and keep up the good work

it basically begins like this...

Germa 66 (but before Sora dies)

Ichiji gets the first of his modification surgeries, which happens to be his eyes (it's meant to enhance his sight and develop further modifications). being temporarily blinded, Ichiji gets the wrong room and meets his mother in the medical ward.

here's the thing; Ichiji has emotions, but he can't express them and he got an excellent poker face so Judge never suspected anything. also, Ichiji is extremely mature so he knows that displaying emotions is a very Bad™ idea

anyhow, since he's blinded and can't train/study as he usually do, he's allowed to meet with Sora until his eyes has healed. Sora is overjoyed to spend time with another of her children (only Sanji comes to see her frequently).

during the time Ichiji learns to know his mother, he also starts to notice difference between right and wrong. it doesn't take him long to realize how absolutely toxic and fucked up this situation is. he knows that as the firstborn son, he's the next in line for the throne and will one day rule over Germa. he doesn't want to and he's jealous of Sanji who will never have that burden.

Sora becomes his safe zone, even if he can't see her. Ichiji also discovers that he loves knowledge, he enjoys listening/reading about everything. he notes that there is little to no archived recollections of Gold Roger's adventures on the Grand Line and Ichiji dreams of sailing to the Grand Line and write about all the adventures he'd experience.

Ichiji is also a realist and knows this dream is nothing else than a dream that'll never come true.

after his eyes are healed, Ichiji can't go to see Sora again and his training is intensified because he's "the heir". Ichiji still tries to see his mother in secret, during the middle of night when no one else is awake. meanwhile, he isn't exactly "cruelly bullying" Sanji, but his words are very harsh and cold. he does this because he wants Sanji to open his eyes and understand their duty. their lives are not "fun and games" and Sanji needs to grow up. (classic frustrated older brother attitude)

then Sora dies and everything goes to hell. the last words Ichiji exchanges with Sanji is his pentup frustration that Sanji still hasn't learnt his lesson; that he "needs to grow the hell up". Ichiji also says things he didn't intent to, such as Sanji is so lucky that he doesn't have to inherit the throne, being forced to be perfect and he has still the freedom to leave Germa as he pleases, unlike him.

then Sanji doesn't turn up for several days and the next thing Ichiji knows, his little brother is suddenly declared dead to the kingdom.

Ichiji, in a rare moment of impulsivity, waits until after the "funeral service" to demand answers from Judge and his mind snaps when he called Sanji a failure, a burden and especially the words "a stone around your neck". Ichiji attacks Judge without thinking and he's defeated within seconds. and his left eye got burnt by firepower

Ichiji is then subjected to a series of unethical medical experiments (he's too proud to ever admit this, but they were so horrofic and painful that Ichiji screamed for his mother). His eye is fine, still functional but the scar he got will remain for the rest of his life. Judge says it will remind him to never try to defy him.

Ichiji, being completely resigned to his fate, makes a deal with Judge (at this point, he has all but officially denied Judge as his father); he promises to endure the "Training of Hell" to become his perfect soldier project and when his genetic modifications is 100% complete and in return, Judge won't let Sanji become harmed or starve to death in his prison and when Ichiji becomes of age, Judge (who, of course, doesn't intend on honoring his promise) will release Sanji from his prison and let him go.

he endures daily experiments along with extreme training for six months.

Reiju, who has been on the sidelines and watched everything unravelling has conflicting thoughts about this development. she is happy that Ichiji has human emotions, but also saddened over how willing Ichiji is to suffer for Sanji's sake. she watched her first little brother endure a training that's worse than torture and she knows that Judge doesn't intend to keep his promise.

(fyi, Niji and Yonji are still the same. but they are confused why Ichiji is now seperated and isolated from them.)

when Germa 66 invades the island Cozia in the East Blue, Reiju frees Sanji, like in canon. while she tells Sanji to get the key to his iron mask, Reiju frees Ichiji from his confinement in his private quarters (the windows and the door are locked from the outside). Reiju tells Ichiji that if he wants to escape and become free, this is his only chance and he won't get another one.

they meet with Sanji outside and Reiju tells them to run away, to never look back. Ichiji takes Sanji's hand and runs towards a ship, the Orbit. he doesn't look back and he doesn't cry, unlike Sanji.

(end. part 1)

[thalialunacy]

[for the @calaisreno May Prompt-a-long, and based on a true story.]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) 9: intimidation (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31)

John jerks his head up from his laptop the second he realises something alarming:

The flat is quiet.

'Sherlock.'

'Hmm?' Sherlock doesn't look up from his experiment.

'Where's Rosie?'

Sherlock raises his hand to point. 'She's right--' He finally actually raises his head. 'Oh. Dear.'

'Hell,' John curses, ignoring a shot of pain as he stands too quickly.

Sherlock's Voice of Reason tendencies are very useful here. He puts himself in front of John and forces his gaze. 'Don't let's panic. She didn't grow wings, nor is it likely she suddenly gained the physical capacity to climb a baby gate. So she's just hidden herself somewhere. She probably thinks it's a game. You search the sitting room, I'll take the loo and then the kitchen. Alright?'

John nods, and promises himself he'll show Sherlock his appreciation later. Possibly with something beyond the snatched kisses they've managed so far. 'Alright.'

Three minutes later, he hears Sherlock's long sigh. 'John.' John strides over to where the detective is standing in front of his bedroom door. 'Apparently…'

'It locks?'

'It locks.'

'What about the second loo door?'

Sherlock grimaces. 'I always keep that one locked from the inside.'

'Alright, where's your key?'

'I don't have a key for either door. Never did do.'

John leans in towards the door. 'Rosie?' he calls, trying to keep his tone calm.

'Yeah, Daddy!'

The air escapes his lungs in a great dirty whoosh. 'Oh thank Christ,' he mutters. He raises his head and turns to Sherlock. 'Can you go see if--'

Sherlock's already halfway out the kitchen door, calling back, 'I'm sure she'll have one.'

But Mrs Hudson does not, in fact, have one, she tells John once she's come upstairs, wringing her hands as best she can with her wrist in a soft cast. 'I'm sorry! I'll call a locksmith straight away.'

'Nonsense,' Sherlock says over her. 'My lockpicks are, unhelpfully, behind the locked door, but I bet you could get me a hairpin and a nail file, please?'

John looks at Mrs Hudson and shrugs. 'Not things I keep on hand, I'm afraid.'

'Oh, pah, you boys. I'll be back in a tic.'

'Do you think you can actually pick it?' John asks quietly as soon as he can hear her feet on the stairs.

'Erm…possibly.'

'Possibly.'

'It's quite old and disused, John.'

'And?'

'And that means rust. Decay. Mechanisms that don't work anymore.'

'Christ,' John mutters. He puts his forehead to the door again. 'Sweetheart?' he calls.

'Daddy?'

'Will you open the door for me, Rosie?'

'Ermmm, no,' she says clearly.

'God grant me patience,' he says to himself, and jerks his head up when he hears Sherlock laugh.

'Sorry,' Sherlock says, clearly not sorry at all, 'but you sound like my mother.'

'Yes, I'd imagine she needed a deep well of patience to raise you.'

'Endless. Rosamund?' he says to the door. 'Do you want to unlock that door so you can help me with an experiment?'

John eyes him, but if it works, then--

'Nope,' she replies, popping her P like a certain someone.

'She's evil,' John mutters.

'She's stubborn.'

'She gets that from you.'

'I beg your pardon,' Sherlock says, quite offended. 'I am reasonable.'

'Sure. When you're not being stubborn.'

Sherlock pivots very unsubtly. 'Ms Watson, if you unlock that door, then Mrs Hudson will bake you some of those cakes you like.'

John pushes against his shoulder. 'Her wrist is broken!' he whispers incredulously.

'We can buy some at the bakery,' Sherlock whispers back. 'She'll never know.'

'You're evil.'

'Yes, well, you let me past the threshold, so you can really only blame yourself.'

'No, thank you!' Rosie calls back.

John rolls his eyes. 'Sure, she's polite for Mrs Hudson.'

'Clever.'

'Not helpful.'

'We could try intimidation.'

'Could we, though?' John asks, bemused.

'You can be very intimidating when you like, despite your stature.'

'Thanks,' he replies dryly.

But before they can debate the merits of trying to intimidate a toddler into doing anything, Mrs Hudson re-appears with the requested items. 'Oh, I do hope you can pick it, Sherlock. I will be very disappointed in your skills otherwise, you speak so highly of them.'

John coughs a laugh into his hand. 'Thanks, Mrs H.'

Twenty minutes later, though, John's growing desperate, texting everyone in his phone to see if they have any brilliant ideas. Wondering how much it would cost to just lift the door off it's hinges.

In the end, he should have known to just ring Molly first. 'Just put me on, okay?' she says quickly. John does as requested. 'Hi, Rosie!' she says cheerfully via speakerphone.

John and Sherlock exchange a look. 'Rosie,' John says, trying to keep his tone pleasantly neutral. 'If you come out, you can talk to Aunt Molly,'

They all hold their breath.

Then the lock turns.

[❤️]